I’ve now reached that uncomfortable stage. It’s too late to ignore the b*stards but too early to start shoot– Er… I mean… I’ve reached the equivalent of that uncomfortable stage in the present illness: I’m much too well to do nothing, but trying to work or even blog coherently reveals a total lack of strength underlying my purpose. That is, I can think of ten topics, but carrying them to the end leaves me feeling dead as though I’d lifted a very great weight. Even art, which is how I rest my mind when I feel like this, I can start, but I sort of lack the patience to finish. About halfway through I start feeling exhausted, and then I must nap.
I’m hoping by tomorrow I’ll have napped enough to resume normal behavior. BUT for now, I’m hoping I can just throw a bunch of disconnected topics at you, and that it will be enough.
It occurred to me, for instance, when re-reading Rousseau’s quote about his “true freedom” being found in following the opinion of the majority even when it disagrees with his, that this explains why people on the left feel VINDICATED when they carry the electoral contest, even when they carry it based on negative advertising, and not their ideas of what to do, and even when they know the polls are corrupted and distorted by fraud. (Well, most of them must know it, judging by how hard they fight things like ID laws and proof of citizenship to vote. There might be a few naïfs who truly believe it is all about access to voting. But not most of them. My mom, btw, was shocked at how lax our laws for registering to vote and voting are.)
Anyway, somehow it seems to me the left has substituted the polls for an oracle, to divine the will of heaven. If the polls say something, then it is the “right” path of history and therefore if we were against it, we must be wrong. This ignores, of course, the fact that history has no “right” path and that it obviously, several times, took seriously wrong turns. At least if one considers the massacre of millions of human beings wrong. Perhaps they don’t.
While on that, I’m very suspicious of this supposedly super-information machine that the Obama (permanent) campaign has built. You know, the one which is supposed to have a file on every American, and therefore allow them to know exactly how each of us will vote.
Yes, I know similar claims were made for Orca, but frankly I always viewed it – had it worked, and I guarantee to you if half the volunteers had yelled at them as I did, it WOULD have worked – as spin and gloss. What it would actually have done is get to the polls those lukewarm republicans sitting at home. (This is assuming the lists aren’t corrupted. Over the last two election cycles I’ve come to the conclusion the lists ARE corrupted, to a level that can’t be incidental. But that’s another story.) Look, I don’t half believe the marketing people and other “glossy bastards” who put a scientific veneer on hunches and guessing. Perhaps it is because like Miss Marple I grew up in a village, and if there’s one thing growing up in a village gives you it’s an inherent distrust of city slickers who think they’re superior. If you look closely, you can see them sweat in an argument with a foot-in-the-muck farmer. Just any foot-in-the-muck farmer.
If the Obama campaign is all that, why are they still calling me and wanting to talk to me? Yeah, yeah, female, novelist, post graduate humanities degree, Latin country and, not least, cat rescuer, shops organic if she can help it, and oh, yeah, takes art courses. But for heaven’s sake, my voter registration is no secret, nor is my volunteering record, including the books I read.
It occurs to me this “spin and gloss” we’re getting about the infallible campaign makes a d*mn good cover for massive election fraud, though. Perhaps that’s just me. Perhaps I’m a suspicious b*tch. Or perhaps we’re – still – being gaslighted.
I think we’re a long way from Heinlein’s idea of psychometric and persuasion as “science” which facilitated the rise of the first prophet. But we might not be a long way from using it as a cover. And it might be enough for Nehemiah Scudder.
Other thoughts – reading science fiction is bad for me. Lately I’ve found myself thinking, “If Puppet Masters” were really happening, how would things be any different? Supposing the shoulder riders were at least smart enough to keep their slaves clean, that is? In conjunction with this (you guys know one of my favorite ways to waste time is what I’d call the “National Enquirer” (before it became America’s paper of record) “side of the internet” right?) I note that sometime around the eighties, people stopped thinking of UFOs as real phenomenon, real travelers from other worlds in real physical machines. Suddenly, come from somewhere unidentifiable, this theory of the UFOs as “Spiritual” vehicles, bringing enlightenment or whatever, was everywhere. It spread at the same time as the wave of anti-space-travel (with the stupid justification that we have to learn to take care of Earth first. Just like, you know, we took care of overpopulated Europe first, before moving to other lands – never mind. Half the kids would scream about the age of exploration, unaware that yes, while people died – they always do, when cultures meet – we are now wealthier, healthier and better off than we were ever before. Even the descendants of native peoples. We are also more of a blend than these kids are taught, as proven by the troglodyte sleeping down the hall at the moment, trying to recover for his bout of stomach flu.)
Both these ideas, of course, are what real space invaders who seized control of our society would promulgate, to keep humans from figuring it out and throwing them off.
No, I don’t really think it’s true, but hey, it makes for a great umbrella theory for how divorced our elites are, not just from us but from reality itself (by elites I don’t mean ivy league graduates, so you may stand down – you know who you are. I mean those people who are actually at the apex of various fields. That many of them are ivy league graduates it’s a coincidence. If it makes you feel better, most of them were ushered along on their beliefs, not their ability. And if it doesn’t make you feel better – yeah, it’s doesn’t make me feel better, either.) It would also conveniently explain away oikophobia and their determination to tear apart the very society that permits them to exist and prosper.
But I suppose the perversity of the human heart is enough to explain that.
I think these are enough crazy thoughts for one day. Most of all I feel incredibly tired, and I hope it’s just the aftermath of the flu, and not old age setting in.
When I get old, I want to get old like Miranda, our Cornish rex cat who goes around beating all the boy-cats twice a day, as far as I can tell for having the effrontery to be alive and be young. … a little old lady, scary beyond all reason.
Since I raised stories to 2.99, I’m not only making more money (expected, since each sale is worth five times as much) but I’m selling more of each short story. As someone who never likes spending money and who is always happy when she finds what she wants at a lower price than expected, I don’t get this. I have however long since arrived at the conclusion most people are not like me. Which is, all things considered, is a good thing. If all of humanity sat at home writing epic novels, who the heck would grow the food or make the clothes, let alone all the computers and stuff that have become necessary to my job?
Lest I forget – I do, rather – next time I call for entries on the “what have you done” is the time for ya’ll to ping me also with your offers to proofread, etc. I’ll make a little section for it, and note they should call you for fees.
Also, lest I forget, Valerie Richardson, wife of my friend and colleague Pat Richardson, wishes to guest blog some places to promote her book, Wounded. It is a Christian, non-fic, inspirational book, and I know some of – many of? – you have Christian/spiritual blogs, or blogs with a Christian/spiritual bend. If you wish to host Val, please ping her at email@example.com
And now I’m going back to bed, so maybe I too can do some guest blogging later on. Before you get all worried, no, I’m no longer REALLY sick, or I suspect sick at all. My breathing seems okay, and I’m no longer sick to my stomach. BUT – who knew? – two days of little sleep and not keeping anything down, REALLY take it out of you. Sleep seems to help and move me towards fully functional faster. So, sleep it is. (The fact I can sleep at all, particularly during the day, is usually an indication I need it badly.)
I’ll check by in a couple of hours. Y’all behave, and don’t go setting fire to the blog, now.