Drifting and Getting Lost for nothing. Attending to the flock or something

I was looking at one of the wordpress articles on how they determine which blog to feature on freshly pressed. I came across the blog The Frailest Thing and I looked at Why Did Curiosity’s Landing Generate So Much Attention?, then I looked around for “Literature and Poetry” or something and found The Smart Phone In The Garden, Part Two where I got totally confused but found some ideas I thought I could talk about. I thought I was relating it to comments at Attentional Austerity. But apparently I’m saying things (as usual) that are irrelevant and off topic. Oh well, I never seem to have a place to put anything. I read something and think to myself “and so…”. Then I go off on a tangent alone. So this on “Attentional Austerity”:

Attending to the flock. Comment on “Attentional Austerity”.

    About someone with attention problems: Attending to the flock. Grass is austere. I could see how they might get his attention and goat alright. I imagine a far off shepherd living the pastoral ideal, hearing the beeping-cry of civilization, imagine him letting the village elders, who are living in the shadow of the wolf with newly installed solar panel fields and brand-spanking new Don Quixote turbines, cajol him into connecting to the internet without a staff but with a credit card.
    Putting aside a shearling, he begins to click on everything. He seems to know the provenance of fine paintings, rugs, and wine, but is a little confused by some intriguing items that he nevertheless orders. He spends most of his day reading, clicking, ordering while the Don Quixote spins, and the antique spinning wheel gathers spider webs. He becomes absorbed by Nathaniel Hawthorne’s “The Celestial Railroad” and begins to be afraid.
    At the howl of a wolf, he looks up finally at his wife. She asks, “What have you done?”
    He fears she will announce he has become possessed by an evil force or at best by an obsession that neglects her. “What?” he says sheepishly.
    “Why are you dressing the sheep in dog sweaters and feeding them from cans?”
    “Uh, well, it was on sale, and why shouldn’t the sheep benefit from civilization even if they can’t read?”
    “Well,” she says, “apparently you can’t read.”
    “What do you mean?”
    “You’ve gotten cans of dog food and well… You’ve dressed the sheep in wool coats and fed them lamb stew.”
    From that day on, the shepherd focused his attention on shearing. But his wife didn’t mind the beautiful shearling coat he bought her with a click.

— Douglas Gilbert
Bah humbug. This didn’t work out very well. I didn’t even make a point.

Anyway, so I wasted a lot of time on this and got nowhere. I should have just used the energy to write another poem or something….

The Old Ladies Detective Club : The Suicide Pact by “Rose”

The Old Ladies Detective Club

       by “Rose”

     August 2 looked like it would be a catastrophe, given the clues that Jane had found tucked into the pages of the Emily Dickenson poetry book. We thought perhaps it was an opportune time to re-activate, or should I say re-convene “The Old Ladies Detective Club.” Actually, we had never gotten off the ground with the club, but why not now, seeing as Jane had found her lucky hat with what she called her “Dodo” feather dyed purple. I guess she called it that so no one could accuse her of stealing an endangered peacock feather, because she gets embarrassed even though none of us, not even Marsha, who had been to Woodstock chasing the cute guys for their free love, ever fell for that endangered species crap. We recycle notions and hats, but the wine bottles can go down the chute with the Edison light bulbs. What the hell, we need to have some sins besides Nigel, Ralph and James, but that’s another story.
     When Jane summoned us to the Bookstore Café on Crosby Street around 5pm we were barely able to find a table on the main floor. When Marsha and I arrived, Jane was sitting down at the last table with a knish, a coffee, and the poetry book in question.
     Marsha had said, “Where’d you find it?”
     “Y’know, on the second floor balcony in the Poetry section under ‘D’,” sighed Jane wanting to get on with it. “Look, these bookmark papers are notes for a suicide pact.”
     “Whaaat?” Marsha and I shouted. Everyone who was standing and hovering around looked at us probably thinking, ‘could these old nutty ladies give up their table ’cause this should be for the hip youth,’ or whatever the kids say nowadays.
     “Well, um…,” Jane flubbed around her more usual eloquence.
     We grabbed the papers out of her hand that she had unfolded. It looked like notes for a suicide pact. “Shouldn’t we stop them, whoever they are?” I said, grabbing one of the scraps.
     “It’s just rambling philosophy,” said Jane suddenly changing her mind about the importance of her discovery.
     “Well, just some of it…bet you couldn’t answer this scribble in the side margin,” I said.
     “Oh yeah,” said Marsha, “What?”
     “What’s a trillion dollars?” I said trying to hype the notes and make it more than just a discussion of math and economics on a perfectly innocent plane.
     Marsha said, “Um, I never got past a million in my imagination…”
     Well, I said, “If I had a million dollars on this table, we’d have to have space for a million such tables to have a trillion dollars laid out.”
     “Uh, ha,” said Jane. “You have a million dollars? Put it on the table and we can go to Las Vegas right now…”
     Marsha grabbed the papers to read while Jane and I bantered like peahens cocking their heads looking for a peacock, and there were certainly a lot of cute guys roaming around with books trying to look unbookish. If we had a million dollars then…
     “First,” I said, “get us a million tables…”
     “Yeah,” said Jane finishing her knish like there was a potato famine, “that’s the thing: how much of this is fantasy and musing, and how much is real?”
     Marsha jumped in. “OK. I see we’re avoiding the main nut of it — this piece here,” she said. “Um, listen: ‘Dear Kathleen, Sorry for the letter but I don’t have a computer. I saw on CBS news that the President is not going to issue Social Security checks after August 2 no matter what unless he can raise taxes on Millionaires(everybody making $250,000 or more). He’s already taken my Medicare down to hell. Forget the damn pain pills and get me some pot or something. Hey girls, I say, sell all the silverware and the gold jewelry and let’s go to Las Vegas. We’ll bet everything on August 2. If we lose, we’ll go out into the desert and have a picnic under the stars. I’ve saved some drugs from my collection and we could see the stars and die quickly. I’ve heard you can see the heavens from the desert. We’ve had a long life and why wait for Armageddon? The Grandkids don’t care about us and anyway, they know everything about computer money video games, and it’s Greek to me anyway as Shakespeare said. No need to make them pay for us. We could do them a favor and go quickly while we can still think clearly.’ ”
     “It’s just musing,” I said, “but why don’t we go to Las Vegas on August 2, because, you know, actually, it is hopeless. Isn’t it?”
     Jane pulled her little gun from her bag and said,”Remember the movie, ‘They Shoot Horses, Don’t They?’ ”
     Marsha screamed, “Be careful with that thing. Don’t be silly.” But the gun went off.
     Marsha is dead and so is Jane. It’s a mystery that I’m still alive considering that Armageddon awaits and I’m not optimistic even though I grabbed Jane’s hat and got out the door before the police came. It’s a shame that we could never get the “Old Ladies Detective Club” off the ground. Not everyone is clever enough to survive in a mild mannered maneuver. Oh well. I’ll go to Las Vegas by myself and look for the girls looking at the stars. Maybe I’ll find a cute millionaire.

On The Streets of Tehran, “Iranian Declaration of Independence”


     Whereas, the present Supreme Leader, Ayatollah Ali Khamenei in his evil endeavors has a history of repeated injuries and usurpations against the people, the people are absolved from allegiance to this tyrant and to his Guardian Council.
     The people of Iran in consanguinity with Mohammed are the voice of justice protected by Divine Providence.
     When it is shown that a leader is possessed by Demons of unreason and treachery, it is the duty of the people to rebel and declare their rights under Allah.
     In evidence of his evil, we list the crimes of his regime, and declare our independence from his tyranny.
     In every stage of his oppression, we have petitioned, in the most humble terms, but to no avail.
     He has excited domestic insurrections by our militia children, merciless Basiji savages whose only rule of warfare is the destruction of all ages and sexes by any means most terrible.
     He has called together legislative bodies at secret locations for the sole purpose of oppressing the people with ominous and obscure laws that fatigue them into compliance.
     He has dissolved meetings repeatedly for opposing in good conscience his invasions on the human rights of the people.
     He has obstructed the administration of justice by refusing his assent to laws for establishing an independent judiciary.
     He has erected a multitude of offensive agents, and sent hither swarms of officers, to harass our people and seize their property.
     He has affected to render the Revolutionary Guard independent of, and superior to, any elected civil power, or any powers reserved for the people.
     He has sent militias and armed vigilantes into our homes to destroy property and murder our people, but yet the Ayatollah protects the militias and vigilantes from punishment, he, himself, complicit in their vile crimes and murders.
     He is, at this time, transporting large militias, secret police, and other unidentified agents to complete the works of death, desolation, and tyranny, already begun, with circumstances of cruelty and perfidy scarcely paralleled in the most barbarous ages, and totally unworthy the head of a civilized nation.
      Whereas, we hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men and women are created equal; that they are endowed by Allah with certain inalienable rights; that among these are life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness.
     Whereas, crimes against humanity have been committed in the name of Ayatollah Ali Khamenei, his Guardian Council, and compliant clerics, we the people by the authority of Allah, do declare the following:
       Henceforth, any clergy following the dictates, directly or indirectly, of the Ayatollah Ali Khamenei, the Supreme Leader, whether by complicity with evil elements of the Basiji, Revolutionary Guards, or Army, or by silence, and who shall not follow the path of peace, laying down their arms, in command or in weaponry, shall be subject to exile or execution by the Nascent Sea of Green forming by God’s will, witnessed by the world in Revelation.
     Peace be with you. God is Great.

Breathing In The Age of Swine Flu

Contagion Cap And Trade

   Because the icebergs of fear are melting rapidly, the World Stealth Organization has proposed limits on breathing. Human exhaling raises the level of carbon dioxide and is the main vector of virus disease. All patrons of gyms will be required to obtain Exhale Credits from sedentary people who stay indoors.
   A cap on breathing will be proposed at the next meeting in Geneva on July 4. However, it is recommended that all sedentary people of the hermit class apply for their Certification of Small Mouth Print now. Once that is done, they can write Carbon & Contagion Contracts that can be traded on the stock exchange. These securities can be bought by any person wishing to exercise to offset their Carbon & Contagion Mouth & Foot Print.
— Snerd Lee Limbaugh

Swine Flu Precautions 12

Precaution 12

In withdrawing from the habit of shaking hands with other people, do not fall prey to the temptation to shake hands with a polar bear. There have been no reports of any polar bears vacationing in Mexico, but the denial to them of a vacation and the bear opening of the seals, can make polar bears ferocious.

Swine Flu Precautions


Precaution 01: If someone is about to sneeze on you, wash his feet.

Precaution 02: If you see a pig on the street, slaughter it before it sneezes, and make bacon. If you see Buddha, let him go.

Precaution 03: Don’t kiss a swine even if he’s your boss. You shouldn’t raise ducks, chickens, and pigs together in your office.

Precaution 04: Always teach your pet pig American sign language so he can tell you how he feels.

Precaution 05: Use a mask certified to stop viruses when robbing an infected bank

Precautions 06: If you are meditating on a mountain, stay there, unless the Guru has a fever.

Precautions 07: If you put lipstick on a pig, don’t kiss it.

#Precaution 08: Some of my best fiends are swine, but I don’t keep them close anymore (“keep friends close,enemies closer”)

#Precaution 09: “Chacun à son goût,” but only taste yourself after washing your hands, and you can have your cake if the chef didn’t lick the spoon.

#Precaution 10: If you feel sick, stay at home without having a party or a parade in the hallway.

#Precaution 11: If you must travel, take a private plane, and don’t let Congress see you sweat.