Problem: Fathers of children are children, too; To Wit: Charles and Diana
Mort Zuckerman
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Subject: Problem: Fathers of children are children, too; To Wit:
Charles and Diana
Date: Jun 12, 2010 5:50 AM
Charles "Windsor" and the "Nature
Conservancy"- a wing of the NWO associated
with the ALDF.com Lyme Cryme gang:
http://www.actionlyme.org/ALDF_BOARD.htm
The Welds ^^^ (and Nancy Johnson, R-New
Britain, CT, who sold out all the old people
and got herself a $17,000 vacation to
the Nature Conservancy's Easter Islands
as a reward).
Who does all the activism for children,
just in America?
It ain't the fathers. They're busy with
their *own* toys.
Kathleen M. Dickson
http://www.actionlyme.org
http://www.relapsingfever.org
===================================
http://www.commondreams.org/view/2010/06/11-2
Published on Friday, June 11, 2010 by the San Francisco Chronicle
Sex Death Apocalypse iPhone 4
by Mark Morford
There I was, calmly ogling Steve Jobs' shinyperfect new baby like a
junkie rabbit at a carrot factory in SaladTown, happily swooning over
its graceful industrial design and everstunned at the tiny slab's
explicit lickability and amazing capabilities.
How easy to get caught up in the sheer madhouse magic of it all, the
gyroscopes and voice activators, antennae and compasses, multiple
cameras and 5,000 sensors designed to recognize when you might be
hanging upside down from a banyan tree at midnight, suddenly needing
to shoot high-definition video of a wild giraffe stampede whilst
checking World Cup scores while live video-chatting with your wife in
France while pricing out a flight to Singapore while doing, um, 2,000
other rather ridiculous things you could never have imagined in a
million years back on the day you were born.
And I'm thinking, sweet insanity of life, what wonderful/nefarious
creatures are we? How can we keep doing this in the face of all that?
How is it that we can keep creating such beauty and cool wonder in the
midst of meltdown and pain? What sort of desperate dance is this? Are
we spinning faster and faster toward doom? Ecstasy? Both? Are they
really the same thing? Aha.
I like cars. Particularly small European cars, particularly German
ones, particularly those that are tight and refined and engineered
like God's own Panerai, and in this personal fetish/incarnation I
hungrily observe every new development in their technology, their
engines, their design and capabilities and cockpits, especially all
the astonishing concept cars that roll forth, how they keep getting
better and weirder and wilder and usually somehow more gorgeous and
fascinating, mostly.
Yet at the selfsame moment, as the best of the world's automotive tech
evolves to new heights of power and sex, poetry and movement, the BP
spill and global warming, Alberta's oilsands and various soul-crushing
eco-disasters of the world scream louder and louder: Here is your
price. Here is your deeper meaning. Are you sure you still like cars?
It's as though the further we push the edges of industrial beauty and
refinement, invention and creation, the deeper we dive straight into
hell, like a master chef creating the most delicious dish ever
invented, using the last wild tuna on earth. Can this really be true?
Is this our doomed equation?
I also like architecture. Modern, sleek, warm and open. I scan design
blogs and sigh dreamily at countless mind-blowing heart-expanding
creations all over the world, soaring spaces of light and wood, glass
and steel; I'm ever incredulous at the artistry and technology of home
building, the fit and finish, form and function, the extraordinary
human ability to carve out space of every size and dimension, along
with our remarkable power to bend the most reluctant materials of the
world to our imaginative will.
And I think, how can this be? How can we steal such exquisiteness from
empty space? Have these people not seen the slums in Mumbai? The
homeless and their filthy shopping carts? How can we build such
beguiling poetry and simplicity when a billion people have no
plumbing? In short: How can the same weird little human creature
contain such extremes? And are these extremes not getting ...
extremer?
I get a little lost in the raging dichotomies, you might say. On the
one hand, aswim like drunken angels in this, the wealthiest nation in
the world, it becomes weirdly tempting to believe that much of what we
are creating -- not merely iPhones and Audis, but by extension modes
of living, connecting, moving through -- is getting better, easier,
more highly designed, efficient and enjoyable.
Astonishing evolution is happening at astonishing speed, solar panels
in your hand and a million songs in the space of a postage stamp,
instant access to satellites delivering you information on the
distance to the next coffee shop, your heart rate, your favorite
entertainments, your friends and sincerest loves and a live
videostream of your child's smiling face a thousand miles away.
There are moments when it becomes dangerously tempting to think: We're
close, right? Surely with all this power and ease, we must have the
major problems of the world almost licked? Energy, food production,
pollution, disease? Look at all those insane inventions, all the
brainiacs at work at MIT, the best and brightest tackling the toughest
problems of the galaxy.
Any minute now, solar power and French fry grease, nanotechnology and
organic microlending neurobiological hemp-powered oil-eating magic
bacteria will take over and make it all better. Right?
And you slap yourself awake. You stab yourself in the soul with an ice
pick of Now. And you remember.
We are nowhere near close. It takes no effort at all to flip the lens,
to walk the street in fear, to observe, say, all the blood pouring
through the streets of Mexico, the violent corruption in Africa, the
drug-related shootings just down the street, the raging poverty and
sickness, the wall of black death we have just unleashed into the
ocean.
Which side is piling up faster, the beauties or the horrors? The
refinements and miraculous advancements, or the massacres and
planetary maulings? We've always existed in a constant flux of
dualities and dichotomies, contrasts, pushpulls. This is nothing new.
You could argue that it's within that frictive space that life
happens. We contain multitudes, right? Either that, or it creates a
chasm so vast and wide, we all eventually fall in and drown.
I try to piece it together. I try to remember what the wise ones and
the ancients, the soul-seekers and Tantrikas tell us. The Source is
always the same. The dark and the light coexist. The beauty and doom,
the progress and the devastation, they only seem a million ideological
light years apart; they are, in fact, co-creations, siblings, two
faces of the same god.
Drill it down: The new iPhone, sultry and tactile tech marvel that it
is, is born of the same forces as the BP spill. The slums and refined
spaces, the sophisticated cars and breathtaking homes, the rage and
the decay, all of the same divine floodstream. How can this be? It's
both mandatory to remember, and nearly impossible to comprehend.
So what the hell do you do? You choose as best you can within that
whipsaw spectrum, tread as lightly as you know how, celebrate the wild
ride, perhaps try not to undermine every slice of newborn beauty by
shuddering in paralyzing horror at the dark demons swimming just
underneath. Simple, really. Now who wants an iPhone?
© 2010 Hearst Communications Inc.
Thoughts for the author? E-mail him. Mark Morford's Notes & Errata
column appears every Wednesday and Friday on SFGate and in the
Datebook section of the San Francisco Chronicle.
"[Real] scientists are *fiercely* independent. That's the good
news."-- NIH's Top Fool, Anthony Fauci