Journal #9: Norbert's Circle
A personal journal from a future time
Friday, August 31, 2012
Revived Roman Empire
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| Zemperor, by Hans Birkmeir |
In the final days of The Empire, the one we had all lived under, and during that magical yet frightening time just before our inevitable rendezvous with destiny, belief within the media, politics, and right down to the local church hall meetings was such that, the righteousness of The Empire, and it's wars for 'freedom', were beyond reproach.
These principles had become so skillfully mythologized within imperial society, and had soon transformed itself into a religion.
The reality was, that the public trust was being squandered to fight resource wars in distant lands whilst bailing out financial institutions, and protecting bankers, who had been responsible for building an economy based completely and solely on debt creation.
One's right to consume, and one's freedom to act inanely, was being preserved at the expense of global stability, and one's personal freedoms and it's accompanying responsibilities. In those days, the standard response would always be 'the system will take care of it'.
Religious extremists only added fuel to this imperial inferno (just too many names to mention here).
I can remember one such clown; He was a minister or pastor, with outrageously yet meticulously coiffed hair (it looked like a cresting tsunami) peddling the 'end times' weekly on his christian-infomercial. It was a wildly entertaining program, and the man sure did know his Bible. However, this minister (whose name escapes me), and by extension his followers, were definitely not without their philosophical 'blind spots'.
First of all, along with his 'lovely wife' (name escapes me, not too bright, kind of a frankensteinian-botox-hybrid kind of gal), he would warn the faithful weekly about the impending 'mark of the beast', which was to be imposed upon the wicked in 'either their right hand or forehead'. Fine, his argument was a plausible one I suppose, especially considering the quantum leaps being made in silicon computer-chip technology at the time.
But, after terrifying his viewers weekly with this impending ultimate-evil end-time prophecies, he would then encourage them to purchase an amateurish video about 'The Rapture' or some other asinine event, simply by using a swipe of one's own credit card ("do as I say, not as I do", was the message there).
Note: When one juxtaposes 'The Rapture' against 'our inevitable rendezvous with destiny', it could have been easy to have mistaken the two. Let me make this perfectly clear, they were NOT!
His other blind spot would be exposed when he would explain to his viewers how the book of 'Revelations' warned us about a 'revived roman empire', which by his strict interpretation of the sacred text, was obviously the European Union.
Now I agree that the European Union was not exactly the work of a rational deity (a poorly thought out economic experiment at worst). It became a diabolical tool to eviscerate the hard fought sovereignty of nations for the benefit of a handful of international bankers and unelected bureaucrats.
But did he (that minister whose name escapes me) ever stop for a minute and honestly look at his own country? Did it ever occur to him that if anything, the one capitol city which even remotely resembled Rome in it's architecture, symbolic design, and global imperial grandeur was the one right in his own backyard?
Oh, a bird has just brought me a note... It seems that a lovely woman with desirable qualities living in Village 2 has just summonsed me. She's inquiring if I care to join her for 'a bit of lunch, and chess'... so I'll have to end it here. Keep the faith good people, and don't take any wooden raspberries.
Future CT Village 5, Nova Avalon. Year 17 P.T.E.
Thursday, August 30, 2012
A True Story
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| True, to the best of my recollection |
Thinking back now, I can remember an incident which took place back in August of 2012.
It happened at the local mega-food conglomerate type grocery store, whilst buying a few items, the way most people did at that time in Earth's history.
The store was very busy at quarter past four, unusually so.
When I strolled in, I noticed a very tall blonde and statuesque woman, of non-burundian descent, waiting patiently in the 'express' line (which in those days simply meant, that if you had an express bus or train to catch, you were fucked!)
I meandered throughout the complex picking up various items I intended to eat over the next few days.
At one point, I stood facing the frozen juice section next to an attractive young woman, more or less of average height, also possessing no discernible burundian qualities.
As I crouched down to grab a few cans of juice off the lower shelf, I remember being delighted how she had held the freezer door open for me. Her father had been waiting patiently, shopping cart in hands, for their turn to grab some juice for themselves.
I then moved over to the lineups (and they were extensive), three different cashiers were being besieged by demanding and anxious grocery shoppers.
I was standing at the end of a long line which I was convinced would be the most 'civilized'.
As I waited patiently, I glanced over and noticed that tall blonde woman, of non-burundian descent, was still waiting stoically, in pretty much the same order of lineup she had been in when I first observed her upon entering the store. So needless to say, the lineups were just not moving on that day.
I then caught a break, and noticed the empty checkout in front of me had suddenly erupted with a flurry of activity.
A new cashier, just back from her 'smoke break', was about to alleviate some of our collective suffering, (and goody for me) I was closest, therefore to become the first in line… right?!?!
I waited politely for the cashier to insert her cashbox into the machine and punch up whatever code was necessary to begin processing her transactions. I had simply been waiting for her to remove the 'cash closed' sign and officially re-open for business.
Swiftly, like some kind of nimble poltergeist, that young woman, who had so patiently held open the freezer door for me minutes earlier, was now standing in front of me, frantically urging her father to weave his shopping cart past yours truly (and the three other people in line in front of him), and right to the front of the newly opened cashier.
I looked backed, her father remained motionless, in fact he even looked away.
What kind of monster had he created, he must have thought to himself: to have such a beautiful daughter disrespect those patiently waiting in line in front of her.
This was the kind of guerilla queuing tactic that had worked so well at night clubs, but in the unwritten rules of civilized society, the young woman had 'broken the code', a code which had been dying a slow death during the first few decades of the 21st century, that is of course until our inevitable rendezvous with destiny
So the young woman stood there frozen for a moment.
My eyes, those of the cashier, and the others waiting in line, gazed down quizzically upon her. A dozen penetrating eyes were soon fixed upon this hungry heretic, with the exception of those of her embarrassed father, and perhaps the statuesque blonde woman, of non-burundian descent, still standing motionless way over in the 'express' line.
The young woman then lowered her head in disgrace, and walked quietly to the back of the line.
Future CT Village 5, Nova Avalon. Year: 17 P.T.E.
Wednesday, August 29, 2012
Viva La Pussy Riot!
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| One simple act would be their key to freedom |
Pussy Riot, unbeknownst to those during your time period, had become the precursors to a revolution which would, for lack of a better word, 'revolutionize' social conscience.
And oh how they looked so damn hot wearing their colourful balaclavas.
They, and their progeny, would go on to form communities on the european continent which would become shining examples of human compassion within a sociological context (or something like that).
They first received international attention back in 2012 when they performed a wild protest inside a Moscow basilica. Many russians were offended, and saw this protest as being a sacrilegious act performed by quasi-demonically possessed young ladies.
Well let me tell you, they weren't possessed, they simply possessed bad judgement.
They had offended good people who took their faith seriously, people who cared. To have staged that protest the way they did, showed a general lack of maturity and respect on behalf of the Pussy Rioters.
Here at my humble village in Nova Avalon, or anywhere else on Earth during this time period, would you never find anyone who would ever do anything so disrespectful.
They were right to have protested against Russia's then leader (his name escapes me at the moment, former head of the KGB…what was his name again?).
I can distinctly remember that leader saying (and whose name still escapes me), how even he, didn't want their sentencing to be too harsh (that old softy).
So they (Pussy Riot) had managed to somehow grab themselves a few headlines way back in the day, and subsequently build up enough momentum internationally, to help nudge human consciousness ever so slightly in the right direction.
Their big breakthrough came soon after they apologized to Orthodox Christians for abusing the sanctity of their sacred basilica, for their own political objectives.
Their humility, in the end, won them even more supporters. By virtue of that one simple act of public respect, Pussy Riot helped move the consciousness of humanity one more important and very critical step forward, toward our inevitable rendezvous with destiny.
Wasn't it Edgar Cayce, the great 'sleeping prophet', who foretold us about the advent of Pussy Riot? "and out of Russia will come the hope of the world"
You are lucky to be living and participating in such exciting times.
"Viva La Revolution, Viva La Pussy Riot!"
Future CT Village 5, Nova Avalon. Year 17 P.T.E.
Tuesday, August 28, 2012
Homage To The Alpha-Males
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| Sebastian Helene's Alpha Males |
If you look around on a beautiful sunny day, you may happen to notice the odd hot convertible, with some tanned dude driving it around with it's top down.
And if you look closely, the majority driving these sports cars are single men in their late-fifties or older.
I can remember how I used to see these chaps out for an afternoon drive, usually sporting a baseball cap as their sun visor, emancipating themselves, and declaring to anyone who cared to notice, what wonderful 'alpha-males' they happened to be.
Not unlike baboons or gorillas in the wild, these types seemed to have had a primal need to show everybody who was 'Da Boss'.
One day, I can remember watching two such convertibles converging at a double red. One of those old men then lifted his arm, thus his hand as well, and waved at the other male driving the noticeably more expensive car.
Was this a feeble attempt on behalf of one 'wannabe' alpha-male to bond with another wannabe like minded individual? Could it have been an attempted show of solidarity among two narcissistic predisposed brethren? Or perhaps it was a display of submission, a concession by one male to let the other male know that he had acknowledged the other man's superior vehicle and wealth?
Not having ever associated myself with these types of individuals, it was a tough call.
I would often see this type of person smoking big cigars; I suppose as another way of displaying their vaunted 'alpha status'.
Personally, I always found this activity to be poignantly symbolic of the metaphoric phallus they must have had to suck on, to have achieved and maintained their wealthy 'alpha' lifestyles.
I also used to find the 'white-collar shirt and tie' schtick to be symbolic of a collared slave on his leash, led around by the almighty dollar… but that look was usually reserved for lower caste worker types, these guys drove around wearing polo shirts (remember the little alligator?)… and very often with their collars turned up too!
My goodness, I sure used to make some strange observations 'back in the day', didn't I?
Since our inevitable rendezvous with destiny, the only ones who are still smoking cigars are Cubans, chimpanzees, and some of the women 'running the show' way yonder, over on the martian colonies.
Anywhoo, the daily ox-cart has just arrived with today's banana imports, I'm going to help 'em unload some of the heavier crates, and put those juicy fruits into cold storage… "Daaaaay-O!"
Future CT Village 5, Nova Avalon. Year 17 P.T.E.
Monday, August 27, 2012
Norbert's Circle
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| Just a little design he slapped together one day |
What an amazing design my buddy Norbert created the other day! He's really one of the most talented designers and draughtsman here in Nova Avalon.
For you people reading this in the year 2012, My friend Norbert designed an incredible 300 foot in diameter cube within a circle, and sent it back through time using the Neutrino Displacement Quantum Wave Particle Transmitter (NDQWPT).*
Note* NDQWPT is an acronym for a generic term describing technology not yet invented during your time period.
He has previously sent many other of his designs into the past, but this time, he's transmitted his design to an area called Hackpen Hill, in Angleterre, or what used to be known in your era as England.
So have you seen it yet? No!?! Well just look at the image posted here, it's three hundred feet in diameter, Wow! ...and nobody saw it being formed (of course not, nobody ever did).
I can remember all that wild speculation about 'crop circles'; were they the work of aliens (as if the Grays had 'nothing better to do'), or perhaps they were made by some secret government scientists working within a highly classified program? (Ditto!)
If you only knew the truth, you would have laughed. Well, now I'm telling you, so start laughing.
Most of the major 'crop circle' formations were created by either Norbert (Norby), Vince (Vinny), Constance (Connie), or Jimmy (the Jim-meister)… but who ever knew?
Most of the major 'crop circle' formations were created by either Norbert (Norby), Vince (Vinny), Constance (Connie), or Jimmy (the Jim-meister)… but who ever knew?
What's so surprising to us, and even to many of you living during your time period, was the wholesale apathy among the general population these formations had fostered during your historically dumbfounding era.
I remember how they (the 'crop circles') were usually dismissed as being the works of cranks… and what's so amazing is, 'intelligent' people accepted this feeble explanation at face value, simply because someone with an ounce of authority had 'said so'… my goodness?!
And those poor farmers used to get really really pissed off too!
What a serious lack of imagination we humans possessed in those days (that is to say, your era!).
Thank heavens for our inevitable rendezvous with destiny, because without it, we might still be thinking these complex 'circles' were being made by little green bug-headed space creatures from Zeta-Reticuli.
Future CT Village 5, Nova Avalon. Year 17 P.T.E.
Sunday, August 26, 2012
Lance Armstrong (and others like him)
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| Odyssey in Yellow, by Malcolm Farley |
I remember the day Lance Armstrong was finally caught, yet ironically, there had been so many other 'juiced up' athletes like him.
First it was those monstrous East German swimmers, then it became 'speed demon' Ben Johnson.
During your time period, there were seemingly countless professional athletes who excelled in their respective sport, and who later tested positive for performance enhancing substances.
The scandal continued throughout the next few decades to include baseball legends Roger Clemons, Barry Bonds and Mark McGuire.
The game in those days seemed to be: Build 'em up, and knock 'em down!
When these athletes were competing in their prime, they had been exploited by prospective individuals for their athletic prowess, and when it became advantageous to do so, they were outed for the purposes of generating more 'attention'.
In the case of Armstrong, who had won seven Tour de France titles, his public shaming became a diversion within the media, and general culture, to obfuscate the real crimes existing within government, banking and other dubious mega-financial institutions.
The real criminals were relegated to the back pages of the newspaper, and usually got off with nothing more than a gentle 'slap on the wrist'.
I don't exactly remember the names of those swindlers, they've pretty much all been forgotten during our time period, but they had betrayed a common trust far greater than the millimetre and millisecond advantage that the 'drug cheats' had managed to accomplish. Our inevitable rendezvous with destiny ultimately corrected that error in one swift stroke, and for good!
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| He obviously didn't need the advantage |
However, corruption within sport was ubiquitous during your era, yet it still remained pretty much a taboo subject.
In those days, individuals who intuited match fixing were often written off as being either 'kooks' or 'conspiracy theorists'.
It was so hard to actually catch the perpetrators 'red-handed', and it became the 'dirty family secret' within those following the professional sports world at that time.
Sport had become such big business (from skyrocketing player salaries, to corporate sponsorships, to internet gambling), that with so much money involved, corruption hung over these sports like an omnipresent demonic spectre.
I had loved sport once. The first shot across the bow, for me, was when my beloved Montreal Expos were denied a chance to finally win the World Series in 1994 (due to a players strike, please don't laugh!) and were then systematically phased out a few years later and exiled to Washington D.C.
My sole interest in sport at that time had pretty much been relegated to World and Euro Cup football competitions; I cheered seemingly in vain for my tribal Canadian Men's National Team to make it back to the world stage.
Enough about me, but you get the idea... In those days, 'mucho dinero' equalled 'mucho corruptionez'.
Back here at Nova Avalon, we've had to settle for hap-hazard hacky-sack tournaments, after our last soccer ball exploded when a Baltic-Burundian woman had kicked it with 'just a little too much force'.
Dirty CT Village 5, Nova Avalon. Year 17 P.T.E.
Saturday, August 25, 2012
The Fate Of Friends
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| The science of the soul? |
Gordon's descent began shortly after his favourite 'ex-Beatle' had died, or maybe it was just that he had had difficulty adapting to 'life in his sixties'.
Nothing in recorded human history had ever affected the consciousness of humanity more than this single event, and it affected different people in very different ways. One never could have guessed who would adapt, and who would not.
Gordon had been an ageing carpenter. Someone whose wisdom and technical savvy should have given him a default position as one of the village elders here in Nova Avalon. Being a 'good man', he had always believed in 'all the right things': mortgages, paying ones taxes, and a proper social safety net for the poor.
It's hard to say just what exactly it was about our inevitable rendezvous with destiny which so adversely affected him, and we may never know for sure. He had developed a bad habit of demoting old friends to an undetermined purgatory in his time-honoured blacklist. In the end, this character flaw may have proven to be his undoing.
His girlfriend at the time had tried everything she possibly could to snap him out of his self-induced catatonic state. She had accomplished this several times since they first met five years prior, on a dating site called 'Plenty of Belugas' (or did they meet at that café 'Lilli and Wally'?). At any rate, this had often been the fate of those (and there were many like him) who had made the ghastly mistake of having had everything 'all figured out'.
I can remember having had lady friends, in what was then both Berlin and Adelaide, who had also suffered similar fates.
I can remember having had lady friends, in what was then both Berlin and Adelaide, who had also suffered similar fates.
My friend Patrick was a fellow house painter, renovator, and real estate mogul. One could have presumed that the paradigm shift we experienced during our inevitable rendezvous with destiny would have been a hard mistress on good ol' Patrick.
Patrick was a purveyor of the 'white lie', and had also made a very good living for himself, and his lovely family, leveraging real-estate while extracting handsome rents from his struggling tenants.
Patrick however, possessed a remarkable quality which allowed him to adapt better than others, despite the dramatic and traumatic turnaround he would be forced to endure (along with his newly and substantially lowered standard of living).
Conversely, my friend Maurice was a landscape designer and humble family man. He had a comprehensive knowledge of plant life well beyond most, and he was definitely a person whose talents would become invaluable in our new world.
But the profound implications of our inevitable rendezvous with destiny had shone a harsh light on certain 'deficiencies' which made it very difficult for him to cope with our new paradigm. Fortunately for us all, his wife was able to get her act together, swoop in at the last minute, and save his sorry butt once again.
Julian was able to cope; perhaps because he was a prolific writer, musician and mythologist?
My cousin Cicely adjusted quite well too, despite the community's loathing of her insipid nagging, and whiny nasal voice. Her ability to adapt was mostly due to a series of synchro-mystic experiences she had had many many years ago, combined with her previous involvement in six of the world's major religions, and her profound love of dogs (both alive, and dead!).
Her old boyfriend David had welcomed our inevitable rendezvous with destiny with open arms (and sore shoulders). He later admitted that the experience had freaked him out somewhat, but in the end, he actually adapted to it much better than most.
What he didn't adapt well to, was the intense physical labour and cooperation necessary in building Nova Avalon.
Here, there would be no room for administrators, managers, or capricious ex-rock stars. Standing around and slapping ones tummy while everybody else 'worked their collective butts off' was deeply frowned upon, especially during those difficult early years.
Given the heavy physical workload demanded by our new community, David instead opted to sign a contract with an Israeli led expedition to terraform and colonize the planet Mars. He had taken an Orbit Shuttle* to Space Station 14** where he was to have boarded the Mars Express Rocket***, and then onward to the red planet, to help manage the details, and planning, of an intricate sound and entertainment system being installed on the martian colonies.
Sadly though, equipped with only his Les Paul, a bottle of black hair dye, and a mandatory self-euthanasia kit, David was never heard from again.
note: Orbit Shuttle*, Space Station 14**, and Mars Express Rocket*** are generic terms used to describe names of things not yet invented in during your time period.
Future CT Village 5, Nova Avalon. Year 17 P.T.E.
Friday, August 24, 2012
Return From The Abyss (Journals 1-4)
Welcome to phase #3
staringfromtheabyss.blogspot.com presents to you: Return From The Abyss
What you are about to read is a personal journal, reflecting back upon our world from an undetermined point in the not too distant future.
"We are currently processing neutrino particle transmissions from Earth's future...
So Hang Tight!"
Here they are... This Week's Posts:
Journal #1: Warning Signs
staringfromtheabyss.blogspot.com presents to you: Return From The Abyss
What you are about to read is a personal journal, reflecting back upon our world from an undetermined point in the not too distant future.
"We are currently processing neutrino particle transmissions from Earth's future...
So Hang Tight!"
Here they are... This Week's Posts:
Journal #1: Warning Signs
Misguided By Voices
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| What would have been |
I still can't believe how long it took our species to finally accept the principles of natural law, and to live by the code of the 'golden rule'.
It's an ancient principle 'do unto others', but somehow over the millennia, the truth became obfuscated by sophists who devised clever arguments to spin the truth and dupe otherwise nice people into committing atrocities on behalf resource acquisition.
It's obvious to anyone who lived through our inevitable rendezvous with destiny, that there was a horrible price to be paid for disregarding these simple and self-evident truths.
Now we live in a world where those age seventeen and younger have never participated in a culture where such poor unethical folly masqueraded itself as righteousness. And most of those aged thirty and under are still way too young to really remember the details, therefore not suffer the contaminating effects, of a culture they actually grew up in.
How anybody could somehow justify using violence to hurt another living being in the name of someones idea of a 'greater good' is just so unthinkable in this enlightened age.
The so-called leaders of the free-world were really just puppets for corporate interests who valued economic profits and state security over greater morality and personal freedom. They confused the freedom to consume endlessly, with real freedom.
We can't blame them entirely, remember, it is we who consistently elected them, and consumed their products, and accepted their debt. It was just too difficult to speak out or effect any real change, when ones comfy lifestyle begged, implored, and even demanded that you remain quiescent.
As each year passed though, the differences between nations and cultures became smaller and smaller. Although nationalism had been a well proven divide and rule technique for the power-elite, the ultimate goal was to create an amorphous world which would have been highly regulated, standardized, and devoid of noticeable diversity, (a wasteland! see image above).
This is why leaders in banking, business, and politics would often meet at these 'summits' so frequently. They were trying to get the whole world on to the same dystopic playing field, driven by their greed for power, and packaged for public consumption with their political rhetoric.
In those last few years before our inevitable rendezvous with destiny, you could barely tell the differences between Berlin and Beijing, Sydney and Stockholm (the egg-rolls in Berlin were bigger, and the blondes in Sydney were blonder).
The little things that made these places unique to themselves had been eviscerated by the ubiquitous corporate menace which had cast it's uniform shadow in every land it haunted.
Pardon me, a few pebbles have just struck my window…I promised to go help my neighbour pick some raspberries.
Future CT Village 5, Nova Avalon. Year 17 P.T.E.
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