Valuable Values Are Values Adhered To

          As this won't-be-missed year comes to an end, I thought it might help to explain (to myself) how philosophy reading might have provided an actual, recognizable, benefit.  I began by writing about values (mine) and ended with a better (bitter?) awareness of hypocrisy.  

          Before posting this, I needed a relevant image.  For grist, I cut/pasted the entire third paragraph of this essay into a search engine and randomly selected an image.  [I suspect the primary reason a page from the US Senate's 1988 record topped my search results is my paragraph contains several dots () and the page has an incongruous annotation about bullet points at the bottom.]  The entire page of the congressional record is filled with hypocrisy:  from the existence of an opening prayer (not much separation of church & state visible here) to its content (family values)to its faux concern regarding the popularity of the USSR's then-president Gorbachevto complimentary words regarding ex-US President Nixon (impeached/resigned 14 years earlier)—to statements about US's support of 'guerrillas' fighting against the then-USSR in Afghanistan. 


          I have "discovered" that reading philosophical writings can help put today's routine, normal, questions into a "deep-time framework" because most theo-philosophizers of yester-century and/or yester-millenia asked themselves questions which are eerily similar to those we ask ourselves today.
  • Whathefucq is happening in this ugly world?
  • How can I get along with all the terrible humans who share this planet with me?
  • Where did we come from?
  • Where does all of mankind go from here?
  • I know what I am, but what are you?
          Many of the wise thinker's attempts at answers to these questions, however, have the same effect on me as yesterday's sunsetcomfortable and calming as it enters my eyes and strikes my emotional chime-bones but quickly fading as I try (and fail) to describe it.
 
          They were one or more of the following:
  • Complex thinkers who enjoyed learning from others.
  • Orators getting paid to give speeches.
  • Authors attempting to become famous.
  • Diary-writers writing for their own benefit.
  • Letter-writers hoping to mentor or teach their frequent correspondents.
  • All.  very.  ignorant.  men.
          Ignorant in an unable-to-imagine-tomorrow's-question, kinda-waynot in an unable-to-excel-in-school-or-teach-the-class, kinda-way.  Almost all of these wise idiots were also, in some way hamstrung or constrained by their:
  • geographical location
  • relative, chronological, placement in history
  • cultural/societal/religious hierarchies
  • individual privileges and prejudices
          Although many of these men were aware of the limits of their knowledge, some thought (and wrote and then proclaimed aloud) that their writings were the best and final answerwithout a hint of sarcasm or awareness of hubris.
 
          I am aware of my insignificance.  Doubly daunting when considering this documentation of my thoughtsrelative to the magnitude of thoughts to be found on the internetand then more-so when contemplating the exponential growth of the internet over the coming centuries/millenia (where these words will be digitally housed until who knows how long).  I could go on with 'triply so...' but to what end?
 
          There is, maybe, an infinite magnitude of questions which I will never be wise enough to think of.  Describing the unknown-unknown is paradoxically as simple as writing the two hypenated unk-unk words, and as complex as thinking about their definition. 
 
          I am at-this-moment attempting to get a mental grasp of all the ways that my being a:
  • cis-male
  • Caucasian 
  • US citizen 
  • alive in the "burgeoning information age" of the late-20th and early-21st centuries
  • lower-middle class (relative to my contemporaries)
  • politically progressive (whatever that means)
  • intentionally possessing no obvious superstitions
  • unintentionally possessing several situational privileges 
          And how this "mixture of me" has formed any number of unasked for prejudices in my brain's functions.  However, my awareness of some of my biased thought patterns makes me able to curtail many behaviors which otherwise might be considered "impulse-driven" or "innate" but which come into conflict with my chosen values.
 
          This logical description of how I identified a personal value explains why I adhere to it:
  • I despise hypocrites who intentionally behave in a do-as-I-say-not-as-I-do and/or a 'holier than thou' manner.
  • Even observing recordings and/or listening to accounts of hypocrites words/actions can cause me to feel uncomfortable.
  • If I find myself in a situation where I have to interact with people whom I despise, I feel various levels of anger and distrust toward them.
  • I never want to mentally wrestle with feelings of self-anger or hatred.
  • Because I never want to think of myself as a hypocrite, I am vigilant of behaviors which might result in a dichotomy or require justification of negative behavior to myself.
          ThisNever Be A Hypocrite In My Own Eyesis one of my (maybe my largest) core value.
 
          My ability to meet my own standards pleases me.  Makes me happy.  Or, to be more specific, I am so much more content with my life when I do not have any cognitive dissonance to contend with.  When I compare who I want to be with who I actually am and never need to, then, explain to myself why the jigsaw puzzle pieces do not smoothly and easily fit together . . . I feel virtuous in my own head.


not sated?  here's more:


 

Stick a Pin In It
      for those planning to waste it on a PS5

 
altruism: re-gifting your stimulus money to someone you know needs it for food, rent or heat


staying with "the season":

why I don't do holidays

santa's mailbox

festivus


serendipity due dah day unfolds in a beneficial way

 
          Does this phrase catchold due to an ancient echo from the zip-a-dee-doo-dah song?  As a result of the simple rhyme?  Maybe it's thanks to also being a seventeen-syllable haiku, or because—with nine wordsit plants a cheesily remembered definition of serendipitous events.
 
          For those following along in your lesson-book at home, please reexamine the above paragraph and answer these two questions from last week's homework:  How many portmanteaux did you notice?  Any malapropisms (and, if so, what were the words you expected)?  [My answer is in the comment section.]

          Serendipity is best understood by providing negative examples.  Like explaining that the lyrics of the song Ironic, by Alanis Morissette, contains absolutely no ironic phrases . . . is exactly where its irony exists (the song's chock-a-block with misfortunes, examples of poor planning, and whatever idiotic needle-in-a-haystack label fits for: looking for a knife in a spoon factory).  

          Luck does not have anything to do with serendipity.  And, serendipity is definitely not eventual success after an exacerbating period of failure.  Serendipity never occurs as a result of intuitive reasoning or struggle or guile or cunning.

          Sere is a Latin prefix found in words like serene, serenity, and serenade - calm, quiet, evening.
          End and Pity are the core words (which need no explanation).
         
          The primary element to a real serendipitous event is that it must never have been part of the plan, can not have been expected, and can not have been factored into the expectations of any of those who eventually benefited by its occurrence.
 
          When frail, Grampa Jang-n-the-beanstalk (with his cow) meandered along at the most opportune moment and saved my day (career) in a very miraculous way, that was serendipity (full story here).

          But, when we moved to Vermont last year "garage" was on my "desires list" so we looked at several apartments/houses with attached and unattached garages.  Eventually "affordable" bumped "garage" off the list (along with "fireplace" and "guest room") and then two months ago . . . after my neighbor lost her job and their garage became our garage (because we could afford the additional rent) her bad luck became our good luck.  Not serendipity.
 
          I just remembered a good example of irony from my past (just when you thought I was finished kicking that unread horse).  

           In the early 1990s, while stationed at Ft Benning, GA, as an agent with Army CID, I got a call to respond to a drive-by shooting with one injured victim.  This was a rare occurrence on military installations (and a first for me).  The crime scene was an outdoor picnic/fishing recreation area, where a large group of soldiers and their family members had been celebrating their return from deployment.  I talked to some witnesses, looked for empty bullet casings, and then went to the hospital to talk with the victim.
 
          He was in good spirits, had no idea who shot at the crowd (or why it was his bad luck to 'catch a round') and told me that the bullet must have been a dud because it only pierced his stomach muscle less than an inch deep.  He said, "I walked into the ER and the nurse asked how she could help me, so I said 'I just got shot in the stomach' and she looked down, laughed, and said, 'Very funny, what can I really do for you?' which was when I realized I was wearing this shirt."
 
          Then he opened his jacket and I saw he was wearing a t-shirt with: 'I Survived Operation Desert Storm' above a line of bleeding bullet holes.  And there was one small actual hole, near his belly button, with much more real blood below and around it.

          Irony.  Returning unscathed from the first Gulf War and getting shot in the stomach at the welcome home party while wearing this shirt (and not remembering the shirt until the admissions nurse laughed). 
 
 
more similar stories:
 
     
 

The first-annual "For-No-Real-Reason but the End-of-Yeason" Aperçu
      (which might not be repeated, so this title is slightly misleading)

          
          And now for something slightly different.

          Rather than passing over the obscure words (for autodidacts) or hyper-linking them (for the few link-trusters) or burying the definitions at the bottom in tiny print (for the increasingly rare scrollers who read to the end)—I'm leading with them:

          Yeason is a portmanteau of the words year and season (I made it up).
          Aperçu is a brief insight or sketch (French, pronounced Ah-per-sue).
          Autodidact means self-taught (Ben Franklin is a common example).
          Portmanteaux are distinctly new words (shart, blog, zonkey, email).
         
          This series of excerpts are some of my favorite wordcraftings.  A few are from the last twelve months, but many are from up-to three decades ago (posted in the last decade-and-a-half).  The reason I haven't done this before is because sharing fibers of belly button lint I found while navel-gazing makes me feel like a right-foolish-cunt.  Nevertheless, I compiled this autobiographical best-of listicle to commiserate* the last decade, year, autumn, and this holiday season.
 
          *Malapropisms are expected words (commemorate) intentionally replaced with a similar but humorous, albeit insightful, word.  [The word 'albeit' may be the oldest three-word portmanteau (from the 1300's)!]  
 
          To read full-articles, click associated thumbnail-pics (for completionists)—but that's not the actual point.  The essays/stories are somewhat long or maybe a bit boring or even kinda shite, while these shiny wordsmith gems are definitely worth the price of admission.

           Unending, selfish, unselfishness
is a description for Magpie Love ... Unending - forever lasting with no ability to wane.  Selfish - putting one’s own interests first.  Unselfishness - doing everything for another and putting one’s own interests last.  In Magpie Love ... [you'll] do anything to bring pleasure to the other, because doing so brings the pleasure-giver, more happiness than it delivers.

          Thereby, causing me to spend a few seconds imagining foolish candlelit goings-on betwixt some weed-eaters, tarps, and a backhoe.

           “The denouement of tomes I've borrowed or own.”  After pausing to absorb the phrase for a full-second, he said, “That’s a fantastic one." ... Theodore-call-me-Ted and I had played this game for several years—ever since we learned of a shared Drew Barrymore affinity.  Her best line in Donnie Darko was: This famous linguist once said that of all the phrases in the English language ... Cellar Door is the most beautiful.
 
          Miscommunication causes more problems than malice, hatred, zeal and greed combined.  Don't lump miscommunication in with errors and oversights.  Miscommunications are not mistakes just because the ... word ... began as: mistaken communication.
 
         
My Fight Club automobile-accident-experience ... now just electrical pulses across neurons (and, of course, computer software) ... was not an impetus for life reaffirmations or ... born-again-ziness.  I am especially glad nobody had reason to erect a ridiculous, lattice cross on the southbound median of Arizona Highway 17.  It is, however, one of those things that qualify as:  “If it doesn’t kill ya, it makes ya stronger.”
 

             That little ghost almost scared the piss out of me—I'll bet my going for his throat gave him a bit of a pause, though. 

 

 

           There was a pun, bandied about ... who's dumb as a rock, been a pig for eons, and behaves like a gore? ... the pun landed better with those who knew her prior-name had been Gore Behavre ... and were aware she, visually, could be of rock pigeon ancestry.  And—it certainly helps understand the pun better—to know that a gore is a chunk of land, which is on the outside of every local jurisdiction, created by a surveying error.

 
             Coffin windows are referred to, as such, because ... built as fire-escapes ... people climbing out of them would probably be coughin.  (I just made this one up.  If you use this to play six truths and a lie, this is the lie and all the others are real Vermont lore.)
 
“Whats your name?once finished talking, Ill buy some without balking.
Pausing its pecking, it hopped close and stared with such intensity and vigor
I forgot our conversation, and became lost in its feather-sheen and respiration.
 “My nation calls our own name . . . when we meet I say, hello Köal-Lor.” 
 “Hello Veach” I reply with a smile, “no need to remember names anymore;
With how many of my nation have you shared your lore?
 
 STUPID-CALLOUS FASCISTIC PSYCHO FECKLESS LYING POTUS
Mary Poppins' Super-Calla-Fragi... song,
POTUS = President Of The United States
 
 
          During these Trying Times of The Twenties (TToTT®) although technology makes instant communication simple, our circles of trust have shrunk. ... Now, of course, you have viewers, followers, and 'facebook friends'.  Those screen-names might fit into our circles of associates, but more-than-likely they are a fourth circle:  strangers hoping you Egostroke, Entertain, or Educate for Free (EEE 4 Free®).
  
           “Why hero always eat at Asian restaurant?” ... I replied with, “I don’t know...why?” ... “I dunno either. But Bladerunner, he eat Asian.  Fifth element guy...Bruce Willis: Asian.  ... I smiled. “Well, the guy from Dark City: he ate at an automat.”  “Ahh” He waived the idea away, walking toward his kitchen, “Noir don’t count. Noir always gotta eat at a diner.” 
 

This is an attempt to sculpt my Reminiscence Bump into bumps.  Plural.  My end-goal is to have a Series of Reminiscence Moguls so eerily similar to the graph of the US 2020-2022 Covid19 infection rate, they become indistinguishable in my memory of this time.  One replacing the other.



          This homage to Ryan North's DINOSAUR COMICS was created by placing my words into Ryan's internet-famous, constrained, six panel comic.  I did make slight alterations to his artwork (which are visible if you follow T-Rex's recommendation).  I regularly read Ryan and highly recommend his daily webcomic orif he is unfamiliar to youyou can mega-binge during one of your upcoming lock-down/quarantines and catch-up on the nearly two decades you've missed. 

          After informing Ryan, he replied:

Hey, this is great!!  Thank you!
--
Ryan 

RyanNorth.ca / Dinosaur Comics / @ryanqnorth

         

pertinent stuff:

overwhelmed & underwhelmed 

floods & fires

 

more my-words/their-art comix:

fair use vs copyright

meta-thoughts

mayan murals

More Recommended Products
      (unsponsored)

          Although many have already reviewed the food products made by the company Magic Spoon, which they label with adjectives: expensive, keto, adult, and cereal.  Let me add my fifty dollars worth.
 
          'Expensive' is relative and subject to your anchoring bias.  Comparing a box of Kellogg's Frosted Flakes to a box of Magic Spoon Frosted flavor would be like comparing a Big Mac to a Ribeye steak.  Nobody expects a nice cut of beef to cost the same as a sandwich from McDonald's.  The reason to spend significantly more for Magic Spoon is because it has nothing high fructose in it, an insignificant amount of cane sugar, and absolutely no grains.

          'Keto' has become a marketing word.  The ingredients of anything marketed as "keto-friendly" should be scrutinized for bullshittery.  In this case, a single serving of Magic Spoon contains:  Milk and Whey Proteins, one or more oils from: Coconut/Sunflower/Avacado/Almond/Peanut, Tapioca Flour or Starch, Allulose, Monk Fruit, Stevia, Chicory Root, Salt, and various Natural Flavors (cinnamon in the Cinnamon; cocoa in the Cocoa; fruit/vegtable juice in the Fruity; turmeric and a trivial amount of sugar in the Salted Caramel; Inulin and a trivial amount of sugar in the Frosted; peanut extract/flour in the Peanut-butter; Honey in the Honey Nut) . . . and, no bullshittery.  (I love their use of the term trivial.)

          'Adult' is a marketing ploy for parents who feed cheap sugary carbs to their kids but are interested in eating good tasting, healthy, high-quality, food themselves.  This should be the only snack-food in your house!  To feed Cheerios to your childrenbecause it is 1/4 the pricebut buy Magic Spoon for yourself, because it tastes better and contains a negligible amount of carbs is child abuse.  I think you should stop encouraging your kids to become diabetic.  Insulin (the hormone, with an 's') is very expensive, whereas inulin (without the 's', a dietary fiber from Chicory Root) is not expensive.

          'Cereal'in describing this snack-foodis a form of antimony (bullshittery).  Someone in the marketing department convinced the creators that since it looks like a whole-grain breakfast food and tastes better than all of them, then it must be labelled one, and the people in charge at Magic Spoon compromised and agreed to put the convoluted phrase 'grain-free cereal' on their boxes.  Yea.  And the dehydrated water in my lungs is what currently keeps me alive.  I wish they were forward-thinking enough to use the term 'tooth-sized crunchy protein doughnuts'.      

          Someone in Magic Spoon's marketing department deserves commendation, however.  They let you order any 4-pack from their current inventory of flavors (which varies and changes, obviously) and today that was a choice from Fruity, Blueberry, Peanut Butter, Frosted, and Cinnamon.  Then.  After you've finished submitting your order, shipment, and payment, they close with: 'Would you like to include a box of Honey Nut and a box of Salted Caramel to your order?'  I had to smile at the audacity of hiding those flavors until I was almost out the door!  I call it the (effective) in for a penny - in for a Ulysses S. Grant, marketing scheme.
 
          Final point, there are some free shipping or 10% off codes available out there.  I recommend a quick scan of the webs (I got mine from Wisecrack on YouTube) and treat your family to a trial taste with a 100% money-back guarantee (and, who does that? . . a company, confident in their products, that's who.)



other recommendations:


 
         

Thanksgiving on Rimworld

 
click🔍big

  
 
continue to more comics:
 
 
 

Dinosaurs of Vermont Daytrip



          If possible, I recommend driving the slower 80 mile route between Quechee and Huntington, Vermont, on secondary roads and over mountains.  The additional 45 minutes of winding roads and elevated terrain always makes the journey as memorable as the destinations.  Comfortable boots are a must.  Covid masks are mandatory.  Binoculars may be helpful.  Entry fees are reasonable.  Check for hours.  Some paths/trails are closed/not plowed in winter. 
 
          Plan on at least: 2 to 3 hours in Quechee at VINS (Vermont Institute of Natural Science) to see all the different raptors, travel the sky-walk and attend a presentation [add hours if you plan on visiting the Gorge and/or the Antique Mall(s)]; 2 hours to hike some of the Audubon trails in Huntington and about an hour to explore the Birds of Vermont Museum, also in Huntington. 
 
 
more Vermont day-trips:
 
Montgomery hoon tracks



Renfield Reminder


          This is a courtesy reminder.  You may not have known (or possessed sufficient prescience) to request this reminder, but it's more-than-definitely needed.
 
          Keep a safe distance between yourself and all vampires.
 
          They verymuchstill want to feed on you.
 
          You accomplished the first step:  identifying that they possess the traits of a vampirelack of reflection (lack of empathy); aversion to religious icons (lying); aversion to garlic (use of manipulation and gas-lighting); avoid direct sunlight (lack of remorse).  
 
          Subsequently, you have stopped inviting them into your home and you avoid them in public.  Good for you.  Now keep it up.  For the remainder of your time alive.

          Because, vampires know time fades even the most negative memories.  The vampire in your life is counting on 'bygones' and hopes you soon forget about the last time they relished and thrived on your chaos.  Remember the emotional anguish they caused!  Know that your vampire will never apologize for their past horrid behavior, will never express humility or modesty, will never be someone you can trust, and will never care about you except inasmuch as you can be their Renfield.


other narcissism essays:
 
          

Looking at Tomorrow (from the perspective of many yesterdays)

Dear tomorrow,
 
          Most of the humans you'd consider to be included in the term 'everyone'—who are living complex-n-simple in every locationin all of time (which includes the distant future) have felt, and will feel, similar to the way you're feeling today.
 
          No matter what happens tomorrow (or next month) or even next year.  No matter who does what to whom on this election day, no matter who's happy and who's sad:  you've already made it through worse things before.  We are surviving 2020, the most calamitous year in the last century, things have to improve (since there's no where to go but up).
 
          If they burn the oilfields as they retreat, we'll extinguish them.  If they kill the hostages before we board the plane, we will morn them.  If they seize the Bureau of Land Management's Wildlife Refuge, we will mail them sugarless gummy bears.  And, if they win the election, we'll win next time.

          Thanks for keeping this in mind,

          Yesterday

other theo-philosophical essays:
 
 
 

     Burb Bear Got My Birb Food

 

Black bear came into my backyard last night.

Birb feeder pole snapped-off level to ground.
 

Birdseed eaten, feeder beaten, suet...

bracket bent, while I and my neighbors slept.
 

Busy village livelong day - in starlight...

barely a sound (two nightly trains, except).

Bolder, hungrier, less reason to fear...

Beware there, bear, hunting season is here.



more Vermont stuff:

 Good Day to Be a Crow

 cat photo-art

Aunt Teabody’s Ataraxia Expedition on the Pennsylvanian Escarpment (Episode 2 in the Age of Loneliness Series)


aka:  Mama Timedance and the Lightness of Being


 
 ⬅ Age of Loneliness Series, Episode 1

 

          Ataraxia - Freedom from mental perturbation through the rational act of eschewing all dogmatic beliefs relating to thoughts and perceptions; related to the ancient Greek philosophy of Pyrrho (circa 300 BCE).

          Pennsylvanian - Geological subperiod dominated by large invertebrates (circa -300 Ma).

 

 

 

continue perusing similart: 

eye am knot

floating heads and already deads

  KISSES

covert corvid covid video



all image excerpts by
Barnabás

B.R.O.Y.G.

 

 
Blue daylight clear cloudless sky
Red dying leaves asking why
Orange liar: say bye-bye
Yellow underlying sly
Green amplifier, stay high
 
True delight 'rear clothe-less thigh'
Shed prying eaves basking nigh
Our change dire: Tuesday shy
Bellow! *gratifying sigh*
Between the pyres walking by

Cyanobacteria and Poision Ivy and Covid (oh my)

 

 
Closed, of course, we went to Burlington's shore.
Dozed, did we, forget it's twenty-twenty?
  Nosed, instead, park path to tree-house, no cure.
Rosed, three leaves, surrounded by so many!
 
Church, shops full, sidewalk restaurant tables.
Search, crowd masks; rarely a bare face in sight.
Merch, local: Bern, Ben, Jerry, things maple.
Lurch, ski slope. Is Champy a hoax? (not quite).
 
 
 
other Vermont to-see's:
 

Haiku  裏庭のアート  5-7-5  俳句  Backyard Art



Spring's leaves will struggle

春の葉は苦労します

to recall the pain of fall

秋の痛みを思い出す

because of new storms

新しい嵐のため


more:
 


image excerpts by Michael Soriano

    |   Modern Times   |   And How   |


Modern Times



I designed this poem to  s l o w  your  reading  pace  to  a  crawl.
Its titleAnd Howsuggests use of the investigative "six W’s".
Use of colloquialisms, syl·la·ble-breaks, [internal dialogue],
and 3rd person omniscient POV; as well as spoken aloud,”
emphasis,*added emphasis* and various tools of poetry
have been combined to paint a picture  in  your  mind
about something which I, personally, fear the most.

 

 

Book·ing-thru  their  big  pho·to  al·bum  book  (at)

un·fam·ili·ar  pla·ces  and  fa·ces when  (theez)

[  . . . got to get bet·ter - not too up·set, we’re . . . ]

pe·ople  in  this  room  claim:  that’s  young  me  wear(ing)

 

look·ing-a·skew  with  squints  and  guard·ed  looks  (that)

[  . . . wrought true; fret ne·ver - blot new debt let·ter . . . ]

seem  un·hap·py  their life’s crap·py *my* ... what(eav’z)

spy·ing  fro·zen  strange  day-dreams  in  time  stare(ing)

 

[  . . . aught you bet whe·ther - hot dew sweat sweat·ter . . . ]

nook·ing-brew  this  knocks  stuff  from  brain  nook,  (fat)

chance  of  that  -  I  dont  say  to  crowd  of  who?  (Friendz)

[  . . . thought grew: met bet·ter - fraught shrew threat fet·ter! . . . ]

weve  al·rea·dy  said,  known  whole  life·time  *glare(ing)*

 

gob·ble·dey·gook·ing-slew  hop·ing  I  gob(smackt)

 [  . . . rot through abet·ter - slaught sprue sun-sett·er! . . . ]

them;  flare  my  scare·y  eyes.   Do  you  know  where  (pleadz)

all  these  pic·tures mem·or·ies,  now,  are  hide(ing)?