Pillock pillicock princox (præterite passover).

FUCK YOU - YOU FUCKING FUCKS! (to quote John Goodman.)

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Special Announcement:   Be with Chief Beau Dick breaking the coppers on the steps of parliament in Ottawa, Sunday July 27 2014. Follow the journey from B.C. at   Occupation Apple Tree.   Belo Sun's licence to mine for gold on the Xingu river near Belo Monte has been cancelled. You will not likely read about it in the Canadian press. It was reported by Globo on June 25 here. [Correction: The Globe and Mail reported the story on June 30: Brazil suspends Belo Sun’s gold mine licence. Good for Stephanie Nolen.] This sort of thing has happened before. They will try to wiggle out of it (or back into it as the case may be) and they may even succeed given the political climate in Brazil. I for one hope not. Not this time. Some big American gold flipping outfit from Idaho, Sun Valley Gold LLC, bought up an ⅛th of Belo Sun in the last month or so, cheap; but who knows? It might be some clever Bharti backhander. High ~$1.75 ($CDN), currently 17¢(CDN¢). Looks like the arse's fallen out of it. Good! May it go to some fraction of a penny and fricken well stay there. That's my wish. Father.   Son.   Holy Pig. They will make the argument that the existing garimpeiros who have been mining gold in this zone for a long long time, using lots of mercury, with unsafe working conditions &c. are worse. It's an argument; not a good one, not a valid one, but an 'argument'. And some of the Brazilian miners will be taken on as wage slaves by Belo Sun no doubt, but there will be many fewer people involved and the gold will all go straight to Toronto. There are sand bars in the river so I'm guessing that there has been some panning - which is the only sustainable method of extraction (to me, an idiot environmentalist). Sure, Belo Sun will promise to clean up their mess when they are finished in 20 years or so. Who can say what those promises are worth? Even if they back them up with funds in trust, the Brazilian bankers & politicians will likely just steal the money. Either way the zone will be plundered and left - I would bet single malt on that. Stan Bharti is no scumbag carpetbagger, no. You can read about him on his page in Wikipedia. He's a great humanitarian. He's a great philanthropist. (He knows just where to touch you honey and how you like to be kissed.) Pillock, pillicock - a stupid person - the OED etymology is weak: from French pille but no meaning given but looking it up gives --------. And princox - a conceited young fellow - again, no etymology. Shakespeare uses it:             You are a princox - go! (Capulet to Tybalt in 'Romeo and Juliet'). We've got lots of 'em in Canada: Ezra Levant, and Harper's bum-boy Dimitri Soudas, spring to mind only because they are implicated in Canada's non-starter of an environmental policy. Mediocre shit heads, like their masters. Not that young but ... maturity comes late (if ever) in k-k-k-Canada the complacent. Justin Trudeau made such a good start, beating Patrick Brazeau, calling Peter Kent by his true name; but half of his DNA didn't come from Pierre and he is simply wrong about pipelines and energy policy; studpidly, short-sightedly, wrong. So now he gets lumped in with our Brazeau the strip club bouncer and the other pit run pillicocks. Oh well, Ho hum. Lots of 'em in the UK too. Whose interests do you think the Crop Protection Association protects? The hired marionette performs exactly as required: surprise, arrogance; and those who fall for it mostly live in cities (is my bet). Passover & præterite (passed over):   A topsy-turvy meditation. In the Old Testament, the Jews put up a mezuzah (blood of the Paschal lamb and all) to save their first-born from the angel of death when God is busy smiting the evil Egyptians. You could call the Egyptians hard to convince, even proud and 'stiff necked'; which turn of phrase goes around and comes around (as they say). For New Testament adherents the praeterite, reprobates lost in sin, are the not-elect, the ones not chosen for salvation. (All will be saved except the ones that are not saved. It's another bureaucrat's wet dream where all is not necessarily all of the all.) Somehow my febrile brain winds up at 'rugs, sweeping things under'. I am thinking of discovery, dis-cover, take the cover off; and apocalypse which is the identical structure but in Greek. He says, "Blessed are the poor in spirit: for theirs is the kingdom of heaven," which is not quite what one might expect and subtly different from the other beatitude symmetries. And Susanne Bier's films ... particularly 'Brødre' / 'Brothers' in which possible salvation & redemption comes with simple admission - stating the facts. There could be a comparison with the Americanized version made by Jim Sheridan which is ... so inferior, such shit; the analysis to focus on the details of changes and left-outs which, as soon as you start to think about them show cultural rot - and a capacious space under the American rug. If you are going to watch both I recommend the American one first - may help keep you interested - like watching 2D black & white and then ... 3D colour. Maybe I am watching Danish films because I wish I lived there: anywhere but k-k-Canada but ... Denmark ... yeah (and there is an association with Iceland). Or because I am so bored that the subtitles help pass the time with forced attention. Some of her films (the ones I have seen from 2002-2007) with so many images of people's eyes in extreme close-up ... strange: And then ... no more: Hævnen / In A Better World & Den skaldede frisør / Love is all you need, with nary a one. (?) And yet these up-close eyes seem ... empty, with reflections but no light. Did I say that I am one of the irredeemably stupid? I'm so alone. I need someone to talk to.         Still something missing. Now we've got someone to run down. It's not only natives who're gonna stop the madness. It's crazy old fucks who may be stupid but can still recognize pillicock shit when they see it and would rather die than eat it.

 
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Spacious gracious moments (in k-k-k-Canada).

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Reminder

(or: specious salacious, spurious supercilious ... &c.)
(or: What we need in k-k-k-Canada is a tax revolt!   ...   Whoa! Waidaminit!    We?)

First, a bit of housekeeping: 1) I tried to inform the few Toronto 'activists' I know about of the coming Harmonic Convergence. No interest at all. I went along to the 'weekly 350 meeting' (advertised on a schedule here) and found that they had changed venue - nobody there, perfectly par. I sent them an email (a polite one) and no reply ... so far. Livin' in hope (as the fricken' Christians like to say). 2) Some texts mentioned in the last few posts: Ian McEwan, End of the World Blues (from 'The Portable Atheist', Christopher Hitchens, 2007.   From 'The End of the World As We Know It', Daniel Wojcik, 1997: Acknowledgments, Approaching Doomsday, & Conclusion.   From 'The Singing Neanderthals', Steven Mithen, 2005: Preface, The mystery of music, & Finis.   3) The FAO Food Price Index updated: Cute that someone there in the UN somewhere chose red for the 2014 line. 4) Islands in Lake Turkana: Three islands in a relatively narrow lake running north-south - what the heck, call 'em 'North' 'Central' & 'South'! (Imaginative folk those European explorers eh?) No trace that I can find of anything like original or authentic names for them though there surely are some, somewhere. Wikipedia makes a stab at naming the lake itself: Lake Turkana name. I like 'Jade Sea' (for what should be obvious reasons by now). Given its shape and the fact that it is at or near the original human homesteads we could call it 'Lake of the Eternal Vagina' (with polyps). A-and a joke:   Millennarian Apocalypticism:   'Apocalypticism' has a certain ring to it - once you practice a bit, out loud. Almost no one talks to me. No mystery there in the end, and after a while you get used to it. But still, on rare encounters with (what should be) close family members I may open up and even ask how their air-miles bonus tally is doing (with a smile y'unnerstan'). So one of 'em says to me, "Oh, that climate thing's like when the magnetic pole flips eh?" It took almost a full day for the penny to drop. (I was not aware of the specific association of nutbars focussed on the planetary poles.) How crazy must they think I am then? Very, very crazy I guess, to put me into such a basket. I had not imagined. In our youth in our Toronto neighbourhood the Salvation Army Band would regularly, weekly or so, hold impromptu parades. And of course all the kids followed the music down the street towards their meeting hall. We demurred when it came to going in for cookies & milk (we were instructed to demur by our Anglican and United Church mothers), but loud & outright evangelists were a welcome relief from what, even at 7 & 8 years old, was an obviously stultifying miasma of control. Later on, we were lucky enough to catch the last few years of the Victory Burlesque, music figures there too ... but that's another story. So ... What if the poles do flip? What if an asteroid hits? What if the planet ends with a bang? The difference is that such events have no moral dimension, none. Ending with a whimper though is a distinctly human possibility. And who cares about ethics either? Since all such matters end when the languages end. In the meantime baffle their brains with bullshit (BBB) since even some of the best among them (Lula thinking the 2005 earthquake & tsunami were somehow connected with environental abuse f'rinstance though he later corrected himself - I said 'best' remember) cannot distinguish suicidal terrorists or nutbars cutting off their genitals hoping to be picked up by space aliens, from people standing up with integrity on real issues. DOH! Joke's on me, obviously ... as usual. No problem. The origin of money: I swear I saw it. The guy who brought the food came out of the bathroom and didn't wash his hands! There goes a typical modern guy. Darth Vader t-shirt, daily schedule in his hand, Converse sneakers, iPod ...A perfectly conceited nerd. What spoils it is his hair in bangs. Nothing that a truck tire in the head won't fix ...   Medusa getting capillary nutrition treatment. The party's over and I've got the bill. I'd like to be poor for a day. Just to know what it's like.                     I'd rather die not knowing. If the princess won't come to the prince ...                                 The prince will go to the princess. With kissing it costs more.   Two solitudes: Feel free to sexually molest. Numa Perrier (at the right) has been praised here before. Now it's makeup & plucked eyebrows, hair done up (or a wig-hat) ... and yet the qualities mentioned before - resourceful, self-possessed, strong, substantial, admirable, gorgeous - shine through all that. This illustration to the right was in The Guardian on some article about labour unions. No idea what he is trying to get at. According to the glyphs, the red things are vibrating? Shaking? Or something? So. There it is. What about spacious gracious moment?   My friend Keith introduced me to Erik Satie saying his music sometimes creates an open space, free. We were in Newfoundland at the time, late 60s, and imagined an equivalent architectural space - it was still largely unrestricted by building codes there then. All safely shut & buttoned up now, such notions. And yet at times certain music opens me upon spacious internal landscapes - Arvo Pärt & Simon Jeffes as noted here recently; Erik Satie, Bela Bartok, J.S. Bach himself - though just for the duration and a few moments of echoing reverberation, diminishing. The 'gracious' is just stuck on - comes from my father's Southern roots which I put on like airs. One'a these days an' it won't be long, goin' down in the valley and sing my song. Gonna sing it loud, sing it strong and let the echo decide if I was right or wrong. (Silvio, Down in the Groove, 1988.)   There it is.    And I'm not hearin' any echo.   That's funny ... on that same album is 'Ninety Miles An Hour down A Dead End Street' so I listened. It's a love story but the verse: Warn-ing signs are a'flashing everywhere but we pay no heed; 'stead of slowin' down the pace we keep a-pickin' up speed. Disaster's getting closer every time we meet. Goin' ninety miles an hour down a dead end street. comes across to me as humanity (not) facing the environmental apocalypse as it unfolds. Not exactly an echo ... but ... better than a kick in the head.   :-)   Bob says "It's too late to listen to that warnin' voice," BUT as I have recently been reminded (by none other than Jim Hansen - in an email directly and personally to your's truly) IT IS NOT TOO LATE! (very handy on it but not quite). More to come on this soon, when I have carefully read a few 'scholarly articles' pointed out to me by Mr. Hansen, viz.: 1) Assessing "Dangerous Climate Change": Required Reduction of Carbon Emissions to Protect Young People, Future Generations and Nature, James Hansen et al., PLoS ONE, December 3 2013.   2) 'A2009' Warming caused by cumulative carbon emissions towards the trillionth tonne, Myles R. Allen et al., Nature, 30 April 2009.   3) 'M2009' Greenhouse-gas emission targets for limiting global warming to 2°C, Malte Meinshausen et al., Nature, 30 April 2009.

 


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