Check out this seedy scenario…

 

Generally speaking… I believe humankind could be easily heading towards an agribusiness instigated, do-it-yourself disaster.

Let’s now talk specifics… that potential catastrophe involves the lack of seeds within the Fuji, Golden / Red Delicious and Gala apples I’ve been biting into. Since such instances have been so commonplace, it’s unlikely I’ve been purchasing freak of nature fruit.

Beyond that, “The Birds and the Bees” basics do tell us… well duh… seedlessness means no natural propagation of apple trees… and be this situation unique to my homeland or more widespread… as in worldwide… that’s begging for trouble.

I have little doubt this is a premeditated assault against nature perpetrated by… just to name the top two offenders… Monsanto™ and DuPont™. It’s no big secret that, for countless years, they’ve been hellbent on commodifying planet-wide, natural resources… making all of Mother Nature’s seeds THEIR intellectual property… and THEIRS ALONE!

Working to that end… potentially to humanity’s end… we find the genocidal geneticists, in their employ. Mad scientists all, they’ve been… and still are… racking up serious overtime, just to ensure whatever seeds may be found in nature will be sterile. In other words, farmers won’t be able to grow anything unless they plant corporately owned, genetically modified, first generation seeds.

Let’s not mince words…. Eco-terrorists are holding the entire human race hostage… their message… no strike that… their terrorist ultimatum…

Either pay up or starve and drop dead!

Hmm (part 1)… what do you suppose would happen… oh… say… were a hostage taking, private citizen / extortionist to screech out his unreasonable demands? Would we not expect to see a SWAT team swooping down upon the crime scene to restore law and order? To haul in the perpetrator? Would not the tried and convicted person wind up doing some lengthy prison time?

Hmm (part 2)… why is it that in my homeland, hostage taking, corporate citizens / extortionists get off scot-free? How can that possibly be… especially when the US Supreme / Extreme Court recently granted person-hood / citizenship to corporations!

But… to return to this specific, seedy situation… I do suppose we all might survive… i.e., so long as BIG BIZ bastards can maintain the literal and figurative, seedy status quo.

HOWEVER… with THE END one, mere Tweetstorm away… WTF would happen were there a global magnitude, man-made disaster (or even a natural cataclysm), which totally obliterated each and every corporately owned seed repository? Once-upon-a-time, even under the most hostile conditions, resilient Mother Nature… somehow… managed to rally. BUT… would that even be true were we to only find sterile plants in the wild?

Let’s look at this dire, desperate, starvation scenario from a different angle... Heretofore, within the literary world, this becomes the fodder for fictional plots… e.g., the life or death struggles faced down by author Daniel Defoe’s shipwrecked Robinson Crusoe AND author Andy Weir’s marooned on Mars astronaut Mark Watney… two protagonist farmers who (respectively) owed their barley/rice AND potato fed bellies… their very survival… to Mother Nature and not Monsanto™!

 

 

Followers For Sale! This Platform’s Alltime G.D. Low!

 

I’m not insensitive. I realize that it’s entirely possible for otherwise respectable folks to be driven to unwise “career” decisions… especially during tough economic times when the alternatives could very well be hunger, homelessness and hopelessness.

The big question…

Could that explain away the highly questionable words and deeds of one particular WordPress businessman / blogger?

Here’s what’s been happening…

I first became aware of him about a year ago when he became a follower of mine (even though he wasn’t particularly interested in my blog content). Upon paying his site a visit, I soon discovered his actual intentions.

He appeared to be suffering from an ocular malady. Symptomatology: neon green dollar signs flashing excessively in both eyes. Hell, his twin orbs were akin to dual stroboscopic lamps that’d be detectable even by ETs cruising in flying saucers beyond Pluto’s orbit.

Let’s now trade off lame attempts at levity for the more serious particulars.

That guy shamelessly fancies himself to be some sort of walk on water, miracle worker… God’s gift to blogosphere neophytes (such as yours truly). I’ll use my own words to capture the gist… the offensiveness… of his sales-pitch…

Cough up $100 and I’ll reblog a key portion of one of your posts. Once read by my followers… numbering in the zillions… they’ll be so WOWED they’ll come a’swarming at ya like virtual green bottle flies ISO a virtual dung heap.

His scheme (or is it a scam?) to scare up some Internet generated income demonstrated an overt slickness and underlying sickness… all pointing towards a deeper issue worthy of a closer look.

In effect, he was planting the seeds of discontent within his targeted potential customers (or is that suckers?) for the express purpose of selling followers.

SELLING FOLLOWERS.

While this is human trafficking in its mildest form… nonetheless… trafficking is trafficking.

Humans reduced to lowly, commodity status. One has to wonder if they’ve been willing participants who are receiving “a piece of the action” from their owner? Or have they been totally unaware of his MO / low opinion of them?

Needless to say I showed him the door to my site by removing him from my list of followers. Oh… that’s not to say he readily accepted that. In fact I had to twice show him my exit signs before he finally got my message. FULL DISCLOSURE…

I have fully accepted my Interwebs insignificance. That’s not to say that I’ve totally given up in my attempts to remedy this. But DAMN IT, I’ll be doing so in a manner that’s respectful towards my followers / potential followers. If my site flourishes? Fine! If not? It won’t be the end of the world!

Digging a bit deeper into my blogging philosophy, I do wholeheartedly believe that a post’s quality speaks for itself and that word of mouth will do the rest. In other words, if I’m not attracting readers today, then it is incumbent upon me, ALONE, to [1] find more appealing topics tomorrow and [2] better communicate my thoughts in a more captivating manner.

So… why the hell have I opted to rehash this issue? Because…

[1] This same dude recently paid me another visit… tried his damnedest… once more… to reassert his unwelcome presence… to force me to buy into his “you are a failure message”… to thin out my already thin wallet.

[2] I want to publicly go on record that my values are NOT corruptible. I have not changed one iota these past twelve months… and never will.

On a more positive note… maybe actual green bottle flies are swarming to his dung heap site?

Seeing how he did need to return… to announce his limited time offer where he’s halving his $100 fee… one can only hope that flesh peddler’s sales-pitich is falling on deaf ears… that Mr. Walk On Water’s feet are getting wet.

 

 

Get Wind Of This… (Sunday Song Series)

Thanks for breezing into my neck of the WWW woods. Your timely arrival coincides with Week #36 of our Sunday Song Series. On this occasion, our musical adventure involves the selection, Sunday Morning Breeze, performed by Mannheim Steamroller… Chip Davis’ ensemble renown (almost) exclusively for performing covers of centuries spanning, Yuletide carols. That “almost” parenthetical is due to the fact that these accomplished musicians have amply proven their vast repertoire is not a December only phenom. Or… to quote Mr. Davis, “see… Mannheim isn’t just for Christmas.”

At its considerable face value, our featured track is blue-chip, relaxation music. And who amongst us cannot benefit from a Sunday (or any other day) Take Five from the rat race… all of which works out wonderfully / literally seeing how this particular musical interlude does clock out at a mere 11 seconds beyond the 5 minutes.

I can recall one of my own laid-back listening experiences where daybreak, Sunday breezes (of the meteorological variety) provided additional audiovisual effects… e.g., outdoor rustling leaves… branches swaying with waking up, chirping birds and indoor swaying curtains. Factoring in the scent of freshly brewed coffee and well… need I say more?

Going beyond the face value… an instrumental masterpiece can have its advantages… for one… no storytelling songsmith who might inhabit / inhibit our thoughts. For some of us, imaginations will be free to roam… be our focus a fond memory or unfulfilled fantasy. If we’re sufficiently wowed, such selections might even get added to “the soundtracks of our lives.”

In my own case, this included an actual soundtrack… part of my playlist featured on a burned CD tribute to my late mother. Sunday Morning Breeze (and similar tracks) certainly enhanced the mood as I sat before a microphone to recreate the eulogy I had written for / delivered at her memorial service. I consider my tribute the finest recording studio work I’ve ever done and… even were I immortal… I’d never expect to top it.

Our Sunday Song Series will be return seven days from now. Hopefully, you’ll be back, too?

 

 

 

Pees [sic] Porridge Hot [uh… really sick]

SUBTITLE: Sonny Sows His Wild Oats

Once upon a time… not too far from the hubbub of The Big Apple… there lived a sophomoric, imbecilic, narcissistic 7-year-old bully named Sonny. One mid-morning he ordered his chauffeur to lead-foot it back to the family estate where… upon entering their zillion dollar, palatial mansion… he immediately began snorting, sniveling and whining…

“Mumsy, why don’t everybody in da hood love me?”

It being a school day, Mumsy just knew her little wittle son was playing hooky. But since his gruff Dadsy typically growled ungrammatically, “Sonny, youse knows more than all dem dummy teachers”, she didn’t DARE even breathe one word re her boy’s habitual truancy. Knowing, too, that she had to take enough time to guard her words, YET, rapidly concoct some sort of a plausible sounding cock and bull story… all the sudden… the figurative light bulb lit up over her noggin. Trying her best not to sound patronizing, said she…

“Sonny, we both know that To Know You is To Love You. So, it only makes sense that to get everyone to love you, all you need do is make sure everyone knows you.”

With Sonny suddenly growing livid… his face flushed into a bright orange hue, he bellowed…

“So you ARE saying that everybody don’t love me!”

“Sonny, we both know that you’re a stable genius who’s never, ever wrong… so… how could I not agree with you?”

“But Mumsy, dem kids should be coming to me. Me going to dem would be too damned much hard work. I know… why doncha call up all their folks and order dem to order all their kids love me?”

Somehow Mumsy fought off the urge to roll her eyes. Once again, thinking on her feet, got her off the hook. The trick, here, was to really “sell” her schmooze the classmates scam to her ne’er-do-well boy. Indeed, to sound even remotely sincere, she’d need to lie through her teeth. And lie she did…

“Sonny, I’ve got a tremendous idea! Why doncha invite all your classmates over for a backyard, Sunday oatmeal brunch? You could even show off your cooking skills… I mean… we both know how you get a kick out of dumping the dry rolled oats into the boiling water.”

“Oh, do I ever! I always pretend each oat is someone I hate. But Mumsy… you got to be kiddin’! Cook for dem commoners? NO WAY! They not worthy of such a feast. Besides, it’d all be too much work. Why doncha order our cook to do it for me?”

“Sonny, you’re too smart not to know that you can’t WOW them unless you’re the Chef who’s cooking up the porridge! I give you my word… they’ll be so impressed by your magnificence that you’ll have them eating out of your hand. They’ll remember you for the rest of their lives. Hell, were you to ever run for President, you could always count on their votes.”

Reluctantly, Sonny agreed… on one condition… that Mumsy had to be the one to send out all the invitations on his behalf. Of course she’d never fess up that she had actually tasked that out to her social secretary. It didn’t take too long for the dozens of RSVP’s to began flooding in.

By the time Sunday finally rolled around… as his guests arrived, Sonny felt elated by the massive turnout. Hell, he estimated crowd attendance to be at least 3 MILLION… possibly up to 30 MILLION! He even caught himself musing…

“Hmm, maybe Mumsy had been right, after all?”

Sonny being the ringleader of his nasty gang, naturally, he did gravitate more to his homies. Of course, it was inevitable that there’d be a couple of scuffles between them and the non gang members… BUT… things began to cool down when the cauldron grew hot… when the boiling, bubbling water told Sonny it was time to dump in the oats!

With nearly the entire student body cheering / chanting rhythmically in time with each stirring, swirling motion of his YUGE spoon, he felt giddy from the outpouring of adulation… even though, in actuality, it was their love of oatmeal… not for Sonny that so inspired them. Anyway, all seemed to be going well.

HOWEVER… towards the end of the five minute cooking time… something just didn’t seem quite right. The porridge was way too thick… way too dry. Dumbfounded Sonny didn’t quite know what to do next. With this being a day off for their entire grounds-keeping crew, there’d be nobody to boss around… nobody to snap to attention and exclaim “Yes Sir!” to his barked out command…

“Uncoil that damned hose and add more water!!!”

Just as Sonny was about to panic, he experienced his own light bulb over the noggin moment… came up with what he deemed to be an ingenious idea! He unzipped his fly and… well… let’s just say he cooked up a Pees Porridge… one that never, ever must be confused with the totally different recipe known as Pease Porridge. Surprisingly, even above the loud piddling noises, audible were the multiple horrified gasps accompanied by the veritable chorus of EEEWWWS!!!

By the time Sonny had zipped up and looked back up, the crowd of kiddies had thinned dramatically… so much so that all who were left were members of his ugly gang.

Naturally, with Sonny being a germ-o-phobe, he absolutely had zero intentions of ever consuming this porridge. However… as for his sycophantic gang? Well, since they knew how easy it would be to PISS OFF Sonny they didn’t DARE turn up their noses. More importantly… they all knew the highest form of praise would be to pretend that nothing was wrong… i.e., that the “alternate facts” told them that Sonny’s unhealthy oatmeal was actually healthy to chow down… no questions asked! And chow down they did!

Well… it is now… some six decades later and we find sicko Sonny and his entire gang of sicko sycophants satisfied by their trade-off of NYC for DC turf! Since these rowdy underlings having, long ago, proven their undying loyalty to their sophomoric, imbecilic, narcissistic boss, he has vowed to never, ever again cook Pees Porridge. After all, for him, it’d be too damned much work! Even so, all of his toadies are still ready, willing and able to take whatever (hopefully figurative) shit he chooses to cook and serve up.

 

 

Mitchell’s Lyrical Enigma? ~ Sunday Songs Series

For week #35 of our Sunday Songs Series, we find Canadian singer-songwriter Joni Mitchell presenting us with a lyrical enigma. What, exactly, is her Sunny Sunday story-line all about? To be sure, when her word count is a scant 100 playing out in 2 minutes and 36 seconds, clues are few and far between.

When interviewed way back in 1994 by Tracey Macleod on BBC2 TV’s The Late Show, Mitchell did shed a bit of light…

“It’s not autobiographical. Actually it’s kind of a composite portrait. I have a friend who I paint with, who had a roommate who did this. It’s just the story of a woman waiting for some little change to give a new direction… it’s a kind of a mysterious little song. It’s also the shortest song I ever wrote.”

As is true with most noteworthy lyrics / poetry, one’s imagination does tend to roam freely. In my own case, this resulted in some scenarios that might account for someone taking potshots at a streetlight.

Might Mitchell’s pistol-packing protagonist be a…

a. militant, dark skies seeking stargazer / environmentalist battling light pollution?
b. stressed-out worker tormented by unresolved anger management issues?
c. 2nd Amendment domestic terrorist totally entrenched within America’s gun sick society?
d. misguided hero worshiper of Bonnie (Parker) and Clyde (Barrow)?

Oh btw… the comment section awaits those who’d like to express their own theories.

For those who’d like to see where our next Sunday Songs Series adventure will take us, stop back here seven days from now…

 

 

UnImpeachable Behavior? ~ 1 Quick Limerick #080

 

The fake prez sez, he’s free of Russian spell?
Squeaky clean, honest as Abe, no dumbbell?
Yet, oversight he defies,
Spurns sunlight, tells king-sized lies,
Which makes him look like he’s guilty as hell!

 

 

 

The Right To Choose: An Evolution? A Revolution?

 

SCENARIO #1 ~ Most intelligent, compassionate folks would have no problem in agreeing that women must have the right to choose… especially when [1] problem pregnancies can involve literal life or death issues for moms-to-be and/or their babies and [2] conceptions can result from non-consensual acts and/or too closely related genetic mergers. Under such tragic, emotionally devastating circumstances, there must be ZERO tolerance for inept, incompetent, ignorant, opportunistic politicians attempting to intrude into what should be the sacrosanct, private, doctor / patient relationship. However…

SCENARIO #2 ~ Even the most enlightened and empathetic of us do start to feel qualms… especially when many other sought-after abortions can be tantamount to an ill-conceived, alternative form of birth control. While there’s no “normal” adult alive who hasn’t experienced that biochemically induced state of mindlessness… been prodded by overactive glands that are egging on recklessness… still one wonders… why some guys find it so hard to muster up a bit of self-control? If a couple cannot even prepare to prevent parenthood… i.e, go on a condom run… just how prepared will they be… oh… say… nine months later? Will their unplanned, unwanted children be unloved and undisciplined? What kind of grown-ups will they become? Will they even be grown-ups in every sense of that hyphenated word? Will they even be able to act kind?

CLEARLY… Scenario #2 is less clear-cut. While… under current conditions… a woman confronted by such a problem pregnancy still must be able to assert her right to choose… CLEARLY… the man could’ve done much more to prevent lighting that 9-month time-bomb fuse and… CLEARLY… humankind can and must do better in the future. And the sooner the better.

Growing up involves far more than gender-specific endocrine glands. Our brains must rule over our bodies and not vice versa. OK, I can already, almost hear the naysayers. “Such an attitudinal shift would likely take multiple generations to complete”… you scoff? “A Herculean Task”… you tsk-tsk?

Even though those are valid points, this does not make them excuses for our not trying. Why can’t we bravely usher in a new era of lifelong, no-nonsense, age-appropriate sex education? We need a Sexual Prime Directive where all biological adults wind up fully understanding that [1] sex makes babies and [2] if one desires the former but not the latter, then consistent usage of reliable birth control becomes a nonnegotiable! For those who find themselves saying, “Well duh… who didn’t know that?” go to the head of the class.

Governments would be both wise and money ahead… were contraception not only readily available but also affordable, perhaps, even totally free of charge! When compared to national welfare programs designed to financially assist impoverished moms and dads, government subsidized birth control might even be deemed a bargain!

To those quick to point out that vending machines loaded with “The Pill” and prophylactics could only encourage rampant promiscuity and result in a raging STD pandemic… I now ask… minus the protection… is that not what we’ve already got?

While such a retort may sound like defeatism, there is some pragmatism in the mix, too. Lest we forget, barrier methods of contraception provide barriers to disease, too. Additionally, might it even be argued that a more responsible, less repressed society would “breed” fewer perverts and predators? Might there even be a bit of truth to / a practical application of that Sixties era hippie mantra, “Make Love Not War”? Given a choice between a worldwide orgy and a worldwide nuclear war, which would you consider the lesser of two evils?

While portions of that above paragraph do sound, perhaps, a tad over the top, there is an undercurrent of truth, too.

Naturally, living life in moderation is the phrase that really pays. And more to the point… both love and respect must factor prominently into the big picture.

If we can establish a society where unprotected sex is virtually unheard of, then, with very few exceptions, only those who want babies will be procreating. Beyond that…

Governments would be both wise and money ahead, too… in ensuring that raising children would also become far more affordable. That… in itself… could help substantially reduce the demand for abortion… i.e., when fretting, prospective parents would no longer ditto agreement to this all too common, forlorn sentiment…

“Honey, we simply cannot afford another mouth to feed.”

Working towards that new beginning, each nation would need to establish a stable economy where even the entry level, full time workers would be earning a living wage… enjoying a pay level that’d even allow either the new mommy or daddy to become a stay-at-home parent until their child becomes a preschooler / kindergartner. Maybe even beyond that point?

Of course, even an improved society could never, fully liberate itself of unplanned pregnancies. True, it’s far too easy for me… a man who can never experience pregnancy… who has never even fathered any children… to say this… but maybe… just maybe my proposed, futuristic, attitudinal shift towards unequivocal male and female sexual responsibility could be inclusive of a woman’s new, enhanced right to choose… i.e., to choose going the adoption route rather than opt-in to abortion?

Do all of these changes sound too idealistic to ever become reality? Should I re-categorize this post as fiction? Let me know what you’re thinking and feeling in the comment section below…