*I’ve been painting myself to death, mostly because I can’t be having with not having a place to eat. It’s not amusing, in the sense that it ate up all my day till now, but on the good side the dining room only needs a final coat. Which might wait till tomorrow, since I’ve found doing painting with bad light is not a good idea.
There might be another death march with paint involved this week, as we’ll probably have the kitchen re-floored next weekend, so it would be a good idea to paint before, nicht wahr? (Mostly because it’s like a dark, dark olive, in a kitchen that has only one small window.)
Remaining today is recovering my office chair because after a certain girl cat’s attempts to bathe it in eau de chat, I simply don’t trust it, and writing from my bed is getting old. Other things need done, but they will take like an hour or two out of my days and not impinge on my writing. Among other things, I’m sacrilegiously painting furniture white (one of them real wood. BUT NOT I hasten to add the delicate real 18th century china cabinet. I wouldn’t do that.) I’m also building what my son insists on calling a coffee station, but I call a shrine to coffee, to free some counter space by housing my coffee maker and toaster and also display my extraordinary collection of mugs acquired by various means. That is on the back burner till the other two pieces (being painted) free space in the shed. Again, those are a matter of “do something, then wait till it dries” which allows me to write.- SAH*
Anyway, I was thinking while painting of the whole matter of scripts in people’s heads. Specifically in the heads of who report the news.
Heinlein once said that any event he was present at and then read about in the news the report bore no resemblance to what happened. I must say I have the same experience, from events involving shooting and explosions, to stupid little reports over a school project. And I know that several of my friends in other parts of the world have experienced similar distortions.
What all the reports do have, though, is fitting into a “narrative.” Or perhaps a pre-written script in the reporter’s head.
Someone called this not a conspiracy but a prospiracy. People collaborate in obfuscating the truth, because they have been pre-programmed to believe/see a certain way.
Those of us cursed with a tendency to see, even when we don’t wish to, are forever wondering “But didn’t they see?” — however the answer is apparently not. Or at least anyone who has interviewed witnesses to an event says it’s perfectly possible for people not to see what’s before their eyes.
One of my first experiences with this was the broken down circus that came to the village one summer. You guys have to understand the village was small — and poor — so I have no idea how we rated a circus. But it was not a first rate circus. In fact, I doubt it was a second or third rate circus. They had no animals, for instance, other than two rather unremarkable horses, and a moth-eaten monkey. I want to say there were also people in lion costumes, but I think my mind is adding that afterwards.
I was about three. We went tot he circus, partly under the principle of “let’s take the kid out for a treat.” (At this time in my life, watching the farmer’s oxen walk in a circle to draw water for the crops from his well was a treat. Myself and the village boys would gather and sit on the wall and watch with fascination. Yeah, life was that boring.)
Anyway, amid the circus performers was a magician. I actually have no idea how good he was. I have a vague memory of doves pulled from a top hat.
The only other trick I remember…. well. You see, I was a three year old. And when we first sat down — really early, but it was okay, because we had peanuts — I was watching the performers set up for the show. There was a lot of clutter in the middle of the ring, that they were disposing of. One of the things was this ODD little table, with a thin support, and a little metal top. And I was a kid and curious. So I kept my eye on that table, to see how it would be used.
And then when the magician’s assistant lay down on it, and was wheeled around, the whole crowd cheered, and I thought that was weird.
Afterwards, my family was talking about how the magician’s assistant had floated in air, and I kept telling them no, she lay down on the little table. They refused to believe me. They really really couldn’t.
To this day I think it was because they hadn’t noticed the table. And the whole show and display…. well, it had led them to see a woman floating in air. But that’s not what I’d seen.
I suspect the majority of the reporters talking about the insurrection of January 6th are like that. Sure, they might have noticed that none of the “rioters” or whatever actually caused any damage. And they probably can sniff the problems with Ashli Babbit’s death, and for that matter what’s coming out about Roseanne Boyland makes one’s blood boil. They have to know. But they can’t know, because that would break the script in their heads. And they can’t break the script, because it’s become confused with who they are. Just like the adults in that circus could not believe that the kid could have seen something they hadn’t noticed, because that would make them stupid. And the reporters are so invested in the whole arrow of history thing and “being on the side of good” that they can’t admit they’re aiding and abetting a coup d’etat that has killed unarmed citizens who were merely protesting what they viewed as a crooked election.
In fact, most of us who were paying attention know the election was crooked (not the first one. Probably not the 10th one) and realize that unarmed people walking between ropes into the capitol were not in fact an insurrection against “our democracy” (Which at any rate is not what we have.)
Most of them probably realize the same at the very back of their minds. But that just means they must yell louder how dangerous the “insurrectionists” are.
This all amounts to lies and more lies piled on yet more lies. Till the stink of the whole midden of them reaches the heavens and knocks on the doors of the angels screaming for vengeance.
The good side, the thing to take courage from, is that we know that they are lies. And that more people every day are seeing these are arrant lies.
Will it be in enough time to free the prisoners from what amounts to an American Gulag? I don’t know. I do know they will be vindicated by history. And though that’s cold comfort, I also know they’re people like us, who view dying for freedom as a not bad way to go. We all must go once. And at the same time my heart bleeds for them, I realize they are doing what they must do as sons and daughters of liberty.
And liberty will win. Or at least free men will. But liberty — or truth, or anything worth having — is never free. And in the end there’s only a coin men pay with. It’s the only thing of true worth we have to give.
The script in their heads will not be broken. Or if it is, it wont’ be to the last possible moment.
And meanwhile Lady Liberty is on her back, floating on seeming air. Till the support breaks and she wakes, holding aloft a lamp.
What the lamp reveals will shock a lot of people out of the script. Those it doesn’t might be unredeemable. Not because they’re bad in themselves, but because they can’t free themselves from the lie.
Meanwhile? Prepare. Both physically and mentally. Both with material goods and with skills.
We are about to land in terra incognita. This is exactly like the seventies, except it isn’t. There’s never been this kind of crazy recession with a labor shortage, to my knowledge. That there is a labor shortage despite wide open borders is another level of insanity. And that the same old discredited magicians are up front, promising to pull yet more doves from trillions of dollars we don’t have adds up to insanity. The same old solution to a problem no one understands or is even willing to mention will do nothing, except push us further into terra incognita.
Between changing techonologies, distributed information and a crazy world situation, where a lot of things are coming to a head at once — and worsened by the covidiocy — I can’t tell you how bad it will get, for how long, or what the safe areas (both physical or of work) will be.
What I can tell you is this: It’s going to be unexpected. It’s going to be scary. It has the potentials to kill billions of people worldwide and completely change the lives of those who remain.
How bad it gets, and what the change is is to an extent in our hands. We have to work as hard we can to minimize damage not of our making. And to make sure what comes after is worthy of us, worthy of the land of the free.
Go forth and do what you can. Because we are on unpredictable ground, led by clowns running a script in their heads that has no connection to reality.
Only you can save the world. Or at least your little piece of it.
Go and do so.