Why I Don't Dig Buddhism

These are my comments on "Why I Don't Dig Buddhism" posted by John Horgan on Scientific American.

I’ve been brooding over Buddhism lately, for several reasons. First, I read that Steve Jobs was a long-time dabbler in Buddhism and was even married in a Buddhist ceremony. Second, a new documentary, Crazy Wisdom, celebrates the life of Chogyam Trungpa, who helped popularize Tibetan Buddhism here in the U.S. in the 1970s. Third, Slate magazine, for some reason, just re-published a critique of Buddhism that I wrote eight years ago, and once again Buddhists are berating me for my ignorance about their religion.

Pop: As a Buddhist I can tell, from just this that any supposed study you have made of Buddhism must have been incredibly shallow. I will elucidate as I go on.

I’m a sucker for punishment, so I thought I’d try to explain, once again, my misgivings about Buddhism, in this heavily revised and updated version of my Slate essay (which was put through an especially tortuous editing process). Here it is:In 1999, a flier appeared in my mailbox announcing that a local Japanese-American woman would soon start teaching Zen at my hometown library. If I believed in synchronicity, this flier’s arrival would have seemed a clear case of it. I had just begun researching a book on science and mysticism, and I had decided that for the book’s purposes—and my own well-being—I needed a spiritual practice.Superficially, Buddhism seemed more compatible than any other religion with my skeptical, science-oriented outlook. The Buddhist scholar Robert Thurman once told me that Buddhism is less a religion than a method for fulfilling human potential, a method as empirical in its way as science. Don’t take my word for anything, Buddha supposedly said, just follow this path and discover the truth for yourself.

POP: As any Christian scholar might tell you your above words indicate one thing quite clearly: you are a very typical 70’s style “New Age Christian”. Your values and world view are Christian yet you feel that you need to cherry pick what suits you so that you might convince yourself that you are following your spiritual path for good reasons defined in every way by you. Very self deluding.

So I started attending meditation sessions in the basement of my town’s library, a castle overlooking the Hudson and finally the chapel of a Catholic monastery (where some of my classmates were nuns, who seemed much nicer than the ones I remember from my youth). I learned more about Buddhism by reading books and articles, attending lectures and conferences and, most of all, talking to lots of Buddhists, some famous, even infamous, others just ordinary folk trying to get by.

POP:  For a start, you can not learn any “Buddhism” from books – you can only learn about people’s perceptions of Buddhism. Even reading the whole of the foundation doctrine documents will not teach you anything about what Buddhism is. Even asking Buddhists is likely to take you a long way from the path because as Buddha might have explained to you, had he had the time or inclination, people vary enormously in their ability to understand the way. Hence Buddha’s teachings, like those of other great leaders like Jesus, were aimed at different levels of education, intellect, tenacity, age, background etc. For example, the 8-fold path is not so easy to understand even if you read many explanations because it is not made, like the 10 commandments, of negatives – of “don’t”s – it is made of positives: “do”s. This was for so very many of those who came to listen to him just far too hard. He simplified things for those: the rules of Śīla which are all “don’t”s.

Eventually, I stopped attending my Zen sessions (for reasons that I describe in detail elsewhere). One problem was that meditation never really tamed my monkey mind. During my last class, I fixated on a classmate who kept craning his neck and grunting and asking our teacher unbearably pretentious questions. I loathed him and loathed myself for loathing him, and finally I thought: What am I doing here? By that time, I also had serious intellectual qualms about Buddhism. I concluded that Buddhism is not much more rational than Catholicism, my childhood faith.

POP: Again, this proves a point made above – you never left the path of Christianity. You were trying to prove to yourself that your acceptance of your true faith was based on the thing that you have come to doubtingly believe should be the basis: rationality. This screams to me your Catholic upbringing – it’s is archetypical of a Catholic. You were fooling yourself – classic cognitive dissonance – on the one hand you wanted to keep the faith that the world around you was telling you was flawed and therefore not worth following while on the other you wanted to prove to yourself that whatever you chose based on this imposed necessity for rationality would be sound in your own judgment – in other words you were pretending to yourself that you might find the “truth” knowing full well that the only truth you would ever accept would be the one you have locked away in your heart so that your very confused mind would not tear it apart. It’s call “conflicted”.

One of Buddhism’s biggest selling points for lapsed Catholics like me is that it supposedly dispenses with God and other supernatural claptrap. This claim is disingenuous. Buddhism, at least in its traditional forms, is functionally theistic, even if it doesn’t invoke a supreme deity. The doctrines of karma and reincarnation imply the existence of some sort of cosmic moral judge who, like Santa Claus, tallies up our naughtiness and niceness before rewarding us with nirvana or rebirth as a cockroach.

POP: Here is now the proof of what I have said above. You see you overly attack the thing you have been led to believe is the basis for why you should abandon your Christian faith – you call it clap-trap (I am not in any way saying it is or is not clap-trap). This is the crux of the matter. You desperately want your Catholic faith but you, being the coward you are (and not different to many), will not allow yourself to defend your faith because you need it to be “rational” and if it is based on “God” then it can’t be rational. Here’s some news for you from a student of ancient Hebrew – the “God” you have painted a face on (thus breaking the second Commandment) is not the “God” that Moses taught about. So, instead of trying to understand the “clap-trap” you had been led by the very same mixed-up popular (ie lowest common denominator) masses to reject (being the fickle, lazy coward you are), you instead, and of very clear purpose, went out to shoot down every other version of “God” you could find. What’s more, your investigations there were even more shallow than the investigations you made of your own faith’s foundations. Then you have the gall to try and lead your readers to believe that you have actually studied! What a totally dishonest spiritual investigator you are – and I mean that with all the love a Christian might offer.

Those who emphasize Buddhism’s compatibility with science usually downplay or disavow its supernatural elements (and even the Dalai Lama has doubts about reincarnation, a philosopher who discussed the issue with him once told me).

POP: Again, this is so very shallow. You have defined Buddhism by your own need to be something really simple so that you can hang your tortured spiritual need on it. There’s no investigation of what the facets of Buddhism might be, it’s history, the various levels of practice based on such obvious factors as education, demographics, proximity to source doctrine, nature of Buddhist doctrinal establishment (the list is long).

You are demanding that “the thing that people follow for a multitude of reasons starting with upbringing” MUST be rational IN YOUR JUDGEMENT before you can accept it as worthy of being followed by you. Sir, you will never satisfy this need. Consider this simple truth – for all of religions it is the same – to find “salvation”, though in all followings it is a path of unending hard work, it is but like stepping through a door to start. It is that simple. You sir are standing outside in the corridor having left the room of your own faith because YOU allowed others to convince you it was unworthy of a “rational” being and are now kicking at various doors and deciding they too are flawed based on the very reasons you allowed yourself to believe your own is flawed. Shallow. Cowardly. LAZY.

The mystical philosopher Ken Wilber, when I interviewed him, compared meditation to a scientific instrument such as a microscope or telescope, through which you can glimpse spiritual truth. This analogy is bogus. Anyone can peer through a telescope and see the moons of Jupiter, or squint through a microscope and see cells divide. But ask 10 meditators what they see, feel or learn and you will get 10 different answers.

POP: As you will get 10 different answers to anything you ask of 10 people – consider the old story of the blind men and the elephant. If you are asking others what the elephant looks like you are not experiencing the elephant for yourself.

The Buddha and all of his most advanced followers ever since his time will tell you that for the most of us meditation is a goal to try and achieve but we will never achieve it – the best we might do is give opportunity for our children to learn it – maybe one will have what is necessary to become someone who gains depth in this direction but for the most of us the practice is just way way too hard and too demanding of our time and frankly, because we do not get wiz-bang instant gratification from our attempts, very unlikely to survive many attempts. This is as true for those in Buddhist countries as it is for us except at least there the average lay person knows that there is merit in the attempt just as there is merit in the attempt to be a good Christian in our cultures.

Research on meditation (which I reviewed in my 2003 book Rational Mysticism, and which is usually carried out by proponents, such as psychologist Richard Davidson) suggests how variable its effects can be. Meditation reportedly reduces stress, anxiety and depression, but it has been linked to increased negative emotions, too. Some studies indicate that meditation makes you hyper-sensitive to external stimuli; others reveal the opposite effect. Brain scans do not yield consistent results, either. For every report of heightened neural activity in the frontal cortex and decreased activity in the left parietal lobe, there exists a contrary result.Moreover, those fortunate souls who achieve deep mystical states—through meditation or other means—may come away convinced of very different truths. Shortly before his death in 2001, the Buddhist neuroscientist Francisco Varela (a friend of Trungpa) told me that a near-death experience had showed him that mind rather than matter constitutes the deepest level of reality and is in some sense eternal. Other Buddhists, such as the psychologist Susan Blackmore, are strict materialists, who deny that mind can exist independently of matter.

POP: And here, you look for the one seed of Buddhism that you think might be worthy of your conflicted Catholic acceptance and based not on personal experience but cherry picked “data” you finally give Buddhism the coup de grâce. Yes you are the wise Soldier of Christ decked out in your sword of the cross and your white robe. Oh please (Catholic) God, see what I have done in your name – I have slain the heathen – please welcome me back to the fold. Son, the door has been ever open to you.

Blackmore looks favorably, however, upon the Buddhist doctrine of anatta, which holds that the self is an illusion. “Where, exactly, is your self?” Buddha asked. “Of what components and properties does your self consist?” Since no answer to these questions suffices, the self must be in some sense illusory. Meme theory, Blackmore contends in The Meme Machine (Oxford University Press, 2000), leads to the same conclusion; if you pluck all the memes out of a mind, you will have nothing left. She even rejects the concept of free will, holding that there is no self to act freely.Actually, modern science—and meditative introspection—have merely discovered that the self is an emergent phenomenon, difficult to explain in terms of its parts. The world abounds in emergent phenomena. The school where I teach can’t be defined in strictly reductionist terms either. You can’t point to a person or classroom or lab and say, “Here is Stevens Institute.” But does that mean my school doesn’t exist?

POP: This is worthy of little comment other than it might be paraphrased as “look, I really did research this” and “look, gee, this is as confusing to me as quantum physics so just in case I might look like a fool I better give it a few words”

I snip out the lashon hara that follows and jump to the final nasty little dishonesty of yours:

[snipped]I have one final misgiving about Buddhism—or rather, about Buddha himself. His path to enlightenment began with his abandonment of his wife and child. Even today, Tibetan Buddhism—again, like Catholicism—upholds male monasticism as the epitome of spirituality. To me, “spiritual” means life-embracing, and so a path that turns away from aspects of life as essential as sexual love and parenthood is not spiritual but anti-spiritual.

POP: And here we are finally, you not only have kicked in the Buddhist door of your corridor trap and put your foe to the sword but now you have to claim the moral high ground and twist the knife. Sir you are a cad of the lowest form. Your dishonesty and your Christian warrior bravado are not worthy of a true Christian. You break so many commandments of both Moses and Jesus here that I do not know where to begin. Judge not lest ye yourself be Judged.

Buddha was a man and all men are flawed. When you have walked in other’s shoes then you have the opportunity for compassion not the right to judge.

The rest has also been snipped – it is of so little worth except for the last quote:

“If you meet the Buddha in the road, kill him.”

The proof of my assertions rings so clearly here – you, the warrior of Christ did meet Buddha on the road and you duly slew him.

Sir, the man you met on the road was the last vestige of goodness that might have been in you – you did slay the child that might have found the wonder of something beautiful.

I doubt that you will ever be spiritually happy – you will hang about outside the door of your own besmeared faith refusing to go in and you will find fault in all other men’s faiths for this reason or that. There is a saying that “you can not find the bull riding on its back” but you my dear friend have not only leapt off the bull but have castrated it and yourself and then slain the bull and flung its entrails on every path leading to the scene of your crime.

I’d recite for you some Buddhist doctrine but what would be the point?

The Peak Oil Poet

(try this: breaking three breaks one and two)

The Land of Skinny People

Dedicated to Julie Thomas and John Quiggin

1

Slim

Once upon a time there was a land of skinny people. There were tall skinny people and there were short skinny people and in between there were skinny people who were not short but also they were not tall. The men were skinny and the girls were skinny and though there were never so many children at one time all of those were skinny too.

There were also some dogs and some cats in the land of skinny people. The dogs and cats were really very skinny. They were even skinnier than the skinny people.

Now the reason that all of the people and the dogs and the cats were all skinny was because the land of skinny people and skinny dogs and cats did not have a lot of food. It was not that the land was bad, no, the land was not so bad at all. It was not because there was no rain, no, there was enough rain. It was not because there was not enough fertiliser, no, there was enough fertiliser. The reason that all of the people and all of the cats and the dogs were skinny was because the land of skinny people had lots and lots of skinny people and lots of skinny dogs and skinny cats.

Now you might think that being as everyone was so skinny and all the dogs and all the cats were so skinny that they would all be quite unhappy but this was not the case. In fact, surprising as it might sound to you or to me, the people in the land of skinny people were all quite content. I guess it must have been because, as little as there was, there was enough. There was never enough to waste. Sometimes some people might even go to bed without having supper but all in all they got to have enough to eat so they could do the things they had to do which was mostly growing things to eat, talking about things to eat, talking about how to cook things they did have to eat and talking about how they might get together and share what they had so that none of them would go to bed without their supper.

It’s an interesting thing about humans that when women get to be too skinny they stop having babies. That is why, as many people as there were in the land of skinny people, there were not so many children because you see it was only when there was a little bit more, just enough, so that a woman might get just that little bit less skinny, that she might be able to have a baby. It was a good thing too because the land of skinny people really did not need too many more skinny people and it certainly did not need too many more skinny dogs or skinny cats who only survived because they were quick enough and wily enough to not get caught by skinny people who might be particularly hungry.

The skinny people of the land of skinny people were very careful with the food that they grew and the fish that they caught and the eggs that they collected from the chickens that were particularly skinny for the simple reason that they were forever having to outrun the skinny dogs and the skinny cats and the skinny people who would like to eat them. The skinny people were so very careful with food that their whole language was filled with words that were all like different shades of the only word we have that is similar: thrift. They had a ‘thrift’ word for being thrifty with rice and one for being thrifty with leafy vegetables and even one for being thrifty with leftover cabbage.

You might say the skinny people of the land of skinny people were thrifty. That would be accurate. It would be accurate like saying that the ocean is wet. It would be accurate like saying that skinny people who waste food would be considered insane. In fact the word for ‘insane’ in the land of the skinny people was like our word ‘spendthrift’. To say that a skinny person from the land of skinny people who wasted food was a spendthrift would be like saying that the ocean is wet. You get the picture.

One of the skinniest people in all of the land of the skinny people was a tall skinny man call Slim. He wasn’t the skinniest person in the land of skinny people. In fact, the skinniest person in the whole of the land of the skinny people was his brother Stick.

Slim and Stick did not have any land of their own to grow rice on or to steal eggs from skinny chickens. They had left the narrow farm that belonged to their skinny mom and skinny dad so that their mom and dad could take care of their very skinny sister Willow. It was rather noble of them it is true but it might also have had a lot to do with the fact that because there was so many of them for such a small piece of land there was really not enough food for them all and Slim was so often hungry that one day he stood up from the kitchen table that was as bare as his father’s head and said:

“Right, I’m off. You comin’ Stick?”

Of course, the people in the land of skinny people did not speak English so you will have to make do with the poor translations that I am forced to make if I am to relate this story to you.

With not more than a tummy-rumbling grunt of agreement Stick too rose from the kitchen table and followed Slim out the door and out into land of the skinny people.

They wandered all of the land of skinny people. If you can believe it they became even skinnier than they had been before. They tried running a little show: “the skinniest person in the whole land of skinny people” but there were not so many people who were happy to give food to someone just to look at another skinny person no matter how skinny he might be. They tried working all sorts of jobs but the fact is there is not a lot that you can do for people who already do everything they can to get enough to eat. Though they never starved (skinny people would never allow that) they were always very hungry. One day Slim stood up from the side of the rather narrow dusty road that they had been sitting beside and said:

“Right, I’m going home. You comin’ Stick?”

And with that they turned their rather skinny noses in the direction that they thought was home. But it wasn’t.

They walked for quite some time until it started to rain. It was not your normal land of the skinny people rain which was usually rather thin. It was a particularly heavy rain and the drops were so big and there were so many of them that they felt to Slim and Stick like rocks.

Slim and Stick ran to get out of the rain and in running they ran right off the road and right into a forest of tall slender trees that were so thread bare that they provided no shelter. They ran through the forest crying “ouch” and “ow” and all sorts of other words that are the same in English as they are in the language of the people of the land of skinny people. They ran blind and they ran so hard that they burst through an unusually thick hedge and found themselves suddenly in the dark. It wasn’t raining rocks. It wasn’t even raining the usual thin rain of the land of the skinny people. In fact, it was not raining at all. It was dark and it was dry and there was something else – something different. Something so different that very soon their heads were spinning with the something that was very different to anything they had ever experienced in all the land of the skinny people.

It was the smell of food.

It was not just the smell of food like the smell of a bowl of nice hot rice that has just been set upon the table. It was not even the smell of food like a bowl of nice hot rice AND a nice fresh boiled egg that has just been set upon the table. It was the smell of all the food they had ever eaten in all their lives multiplied over and over so many times that…

They ran blindly into the cave for that’s where they were. They were in a cave that no skinny person from the land of skinny people had ever seen before. In fact there was not even one skinny person in all the land of the skinny people who could even dream of a cave like the cave that Slim and Stick had just discovered.

They ran and they ran until the wonderful smell was all around them and then they fell to their knees and reached out in the dark with their skinny little hands until they found something. It was soft but not too soft. They each pulled at what they had felt until they each had in their hands something that smelled so good that the best dinner you ever had in all your life would smell like old dishwater beside it. And then they ate.

To say that they ate really does not describe what they did. Eating is what well fed people like you and I do when we sit down to dinner of roast chicken and beautifully roasted potatoes with thick gravy and lots of freshly picked steamed peas with mint and butter and those lovely little crusty loaves of bread. They ate like only the skinniest people in all the land of the skinny people could eat when they were starving and when they had found what Slim and Stick had just found – a cave that opened up into a cavern so huge and so long and so wide and with so many more side caverns that really it might have well gone on forever – and on every inch of the floor and on every wall in all of the vastness of the caverns there grew a mushroom that was like no other mushroom in all of the world for it was the mushroom of the gods and it had been set in the cavern to grow by the gods of long long ago so that they might snack whenever the urge took them. But being gods they just seem to have plumb forgot that the mushrooms were still here. I guess it must have been the bushes at the mouth of the cave. I suppose gods can loose things too.

Well, after they had eaten what you can well imagine was the very best meal of their whole lives, Slim and Stick were feeling rather good. It’s a particularly curious attribute of these mushrooms that even if you stuffed yourself with them you would not feel at all drowsy. In fact Slim and Stick were feeling better than they had ever felt in their whole life. Slim stood up and spoke into the dark:

“I’m off to swap some mushrooms for some lamps and oil. Comin’ Stick?”

With that they removed their threadbare shirts and fashioned them into bags which they filled with mushrooms and then they headed off to the nearest village.

They found a little tinker’s shop that was run by a skinny man and his skinny wife. Slim reached into his bag and tore off just a little morsel of mushroom and held it out to the skinny tinker and said:

“Here, try this.”

As the tinker reached out to take the morsel of mushroom the aroma reached his nose and his eyes popped open like two saucers and his nostrils flared and the saliva started to drip from the corner of his mouth. He snatched the piece from Slim's hand and it instantly disappeared into his mouth. A huge smile lightened up his skinny little face and for a moment it actually almost didn’t look skinny at all because it was the face of the happiest tinker in all of the land of the skinny people.

As you might imagine, it was not so hard for Slim to negotiate a very favourable deal to both parties. Slim and Stick wandered off with a nice new leather bag filled with lamps and fish oil and firestones. The last they saw of the tinker and his wife they were fighting each other over two large mushrooms.

2

Wealth

Slim sat in his beach chair overlooking the ocean sipping his frozen coconut and mushroom margarita. Life was very good. One of the beautiful young girls playing on the beach turned to him and called but he just smiled and waved and thought about how lovely and plump she was. He looked around with a deep feeling of satisfaction. There was not a single skinny person in sight. Every person he could see including the many children were nice and plump.

Twenty years had passed since Slim and Stick had discovered the wonderful caverns that had changed the lives of every person in the land of skinny people. Now it was a land of happy smiling plump people. Everyone had enough to eat. The caverns were so productive and the mushrooms regrew so quickly that the land of skinny people had changed its name to “the land of plump people”. Even the language was changing. The young people who had never lived a life of austerity had stopped using words for “thrift”. The idea that one should save and be careful with food made no sense to them at all. Many of the older people would shake their heads and warn that no good would come of all this waste but as there seemed to be no limit to how much food could be had from the caverns the young people just laughed at the old people and told them that the world had changed and that “things are different now”.

The population of the land of plump people had grown rapidly. There were so many carefree young children that a visitor to the land would never have thought that the long history of the land of plump people had mostly been of thrift and skinny people.

Slim and Stick had become famous of course. At first they had tried to manage all of those mushrooms by themselves but it had not been long before the job became just way too big and so they had given up their control of the mushrooms to a newly formed government of extra plump people who were happy to take over the job. The government then awarded them special status in the land so that no matter where they might go they would be greeted with the dignity and respect that was due to the two marvellously clever men who had changed the land of skinny people into the land of plump people.

Yes the land of skinny people, sorry, the land of plump people, had changed. Things were different. Everything that they had believed about life, the world and food just did not apply anymore. The very nature of the people had changed and was changing even more every day. With all the wealth that came from the wonderful mushrooms the land was sprouting with schools and institutions and buildings that were larger and more grand than anyone in the land had ever known.

There were some things that were not so nice about what was happening though. When everyone had been skinny, though there had never been more than just enough, the people of the land that had been the land of skinny people but was now the land of plump people would be careful not just with food but with each other. But with there being no longer any need for thrift there seemed now also to be no need to care for anyone. Everyone could care for himself or herself and if there was anything they needed, well, then they could go to the government and they would be provided for. The old people shook their heads at that too but of course any words they uttered were laughed into the mushroom smelling wind by the young people of the land of skinny people that was now called the land of plump people.

Slim looked up the beach and noticed a small group of rather plump men walking in his direction. He could see that Stick was with them. That meant they must be government men because Stick (who had acquired the nickname “trunk”) liked to spend his time with government men and give advice on the care and harvesting of mushrooms. He was quite an expert in the field (or should I say cavern) though, as even he would concede, there was nobody in all the land of plump people that used to be called the land of skinny people that knew as much about mushrooms as Slim.

As the men approached something began to niggle at a small corner of the mind of Slim. As they got closer and closer the niggle became a waggle that went form niggling that small corner of his mind to a waggle that was waggling bigger pieces of his mind until his whole mind was being shaken by something that he not seen for a long time. The look on the faces of the government men and the look on the face of Stick was the same look and it was not a look that filled Slim with happy feelings. It was a look that filled him with fear because the look WAS the look of fear and as everyone knows fear is a very contagious affliction.

Stick led the rather plump government men to stand before Slim and block his view of the ocean.

“There’s a problem at the caverns Slim. You comin’?”

They made the journey to the caverns in one of the new marvels of the land that had been known as the land of skinny people but was now known as the land of plump people. It was like a carriage but instead of a skinny horse or a skinny ox to haul the carriage it had a magical device that consumed mushroom juice to turn the wheels. Not only did it make travelling long distances as easy as sitting by the beach sipping coconut and mushroom margaritas but the exhaust it produced was sweet and wholesome.

After a few hours of travelling that were only slightly hampered by the many carriages that were zipping back and forth along the road they came to the great commercial and industrial complex that now surrounded the caverns. Slim was very impressed with what he saw. There were mighty buildings everywhere and the sound of industry and people working filled the gaps in the air that would otherwise have been filled with the aroma of mushrooms.

Stick and the government men had spent some time during the journey to provide Slim with the most recent production figures. They were very impressive. They were now harvesting so many mushrooms that there was enough to export to neighbouring countries. This provided the land that had been known as the land of skinny people but was now known as the land of plump people with what had been come to be known as a “trade surplus” and a “current account surplus” meaning that people in the neighbouring countries wanted mushrooms more than they wanted the things that they produced in their own countries. Things were very good indeed.

Their carriage was greeted at the inner gate to the caverns by a large troop of soldiers wearing their finest dress uniforms and carrying the latest in defence technology that had been bought from one of the neighbouring countries. As Slim stepped out of the carriage they came to attention with a shout and the stamp of feet and raised their weapons in salute to Slim and to Stick and to the government men.

Stick led them all through the gate with barely a glance at the soldiers. He headed off towards the entry to the caverns at a brisk pace and, though Slim had no trouble keeping up, the rather plump government men were soon huffing and puffing and lagging behind. Along the way Slim could see a steady stream of people and carriages going back and forth from the caverns with loads of mushrooms or tools or building materials. It was a very busy place indeed.

At the mouth of the cavern there was a huge iron gate with razor wire and another troop of soldiers dressed in their finest uniforms. They all stamped their feet and shouted and raised their weapons in salute as Stick hurried past them with Slim close behind and the rather plump government men now straggling behind.

Stick kept going. Through the first cavern he and Slim had found twenty years ago that was now festooned with lights and platforms and machinery for cutting and hauling mushrooms. Through the next cavern that was much the same. Through another and then another and on and on into the depths of the mountain until he suddenly stopped.

Slim caught up and stood beside Stick. Stick turned to Slim and then turned back towards the cavern and then back towards Slim. Slim turned towards the cavern and looked. Two things became apparent to Slim at the same time - the smell and the colour. The smell, he now realised, had been growing as they had approached this cavern but here it was very strong. It was not a nice smell. It was not a nice smell like a dog that was dead and had been lying on the road in the sun for some time was not a nice smell. It was not a nice smell like the smell of a lot of people who liked beans a lot was not a nice smell. It was not a nice smell at all. The smell however was not what now took all of Slim’s attention. What took all of Slim’s attention was the sight in front of him. Where all of the previous caverns were filled with the sight of the golden mushrooms covering the floor and the walls, here the sight was of black things that Slim only knew had been mushrooms because he knew that they could not be anything else. They looked like little piles of what would look very much like what comes out of the back end of a black cow if what came out the back end of a black cow was the same colour as the cow. The walls dripped with black goo and all of the floor was covered with little puddles of black goo and from all of the black goo there came the horrible smell.

The rather plump government men came up behind and gathered while Slim walked around amidst the smell and the blackness dipping his finger into this pile of goo or that pile of goo and raising it to his nose as if expecting that he might find one pile of smelly black goo that was not as offensive as all the piles of smelly black goo appeared to be.

“What happened?”

All of the rather plump government men started to speak at the same time but Stick raised his hand and told Slim of the discovery.

“It was fine just last week when they opened up this new cavern for production but when the first team came to harvest they discovered that some of the mushrooms had turned into smelly black goo. They called me and by the time I got here the whole cavern was like this. We have a team of brick layers ready to seal it up but I thought that you should come and have a look first.”

Slim stood looking at the terrible sight of beautiful golden mushrooms turned into smelly black goo and wondered what could be the reason for it. Then he started to think about what it might mean if this happened to other caverns. Then he started to feel that feeling you feel when you think you are going to die and you think that all of your children are going to die and that all of your family and friends are going to die. Fear. It rose within him and was so overpowering that it made him want to run and hide from the sight of beautiful golden mushrooms turned into smelly black goo.

“Seal it. NOW!”

He turned and led them out of the cavern and looked around for the brick layers. He spotted them sitting in a corner smoking dried mushroom skins and he rushed to them waving his arms and screaming “get to work! Get to work! Seal that cavern! Go. NOW!”

The men sprang to their feet and ran past him cowering from his fear and his rage. They rushed to the task and in a blink they had laid the course-work and started on the first line of bricks.

Stick and the rather plump government men stood nearby while Slim stood over the brick layers egging them on with “faster, faster. FASTER!”

Suddenly Slim froze. He straightened. He turned and started walking away from the mouth of the cavern of smelly black goo. He walked amongst the golden groves of mushrooms in the cavern they were in bending and looking and examining and sniffing until suddenly he fell to his knees with a long wail.

“Noooo!”

Stick and the rather plump government men rushed to where he knelt. There on the ground before him was a little pile of smelly black goo.

Slim stood. He was shaking. He turned and walked past Stick and the rather plump government men and returned to the brick layers. They stopped working and gathered around him while he pointed to the entrance to the cavern they were in and gave instructions. The brick layers gathered their tools and went to the trolleys of bricks and started to push them towards the entrance. Slim followed them and Stick and the rather plump government men followed him.

Very soon the bricklayers were hard at work laying bricks and Slim was wandering amongst the golden mushrooms again. He spent a long time checking every mushroom in the cavern and when he seemed satisfied there was no smelly black goo he went and sat near the brick layers. Stick and the rather plump government men came and sat with him. The rather plump government men talked amongst themselves of the problems of government which were all about foreign loans and exchange rates and illegal immigrants from neighbouring countries. Stick sat silently by Slim and they both watched the brick layers.

3

Illusion

Slim stared off into the distance his mind full of the sorts of thoughts you have when you have recently thought about things that filled you with fear. His mind was no longer racing but rather it was numb and the occasional thoughts that would knock on the door of his mind would get no answer and thinking that there was nobody home would go their own way. Every once in a while he would come back to earth for long enough to glance at the brick layers before drifting off again into that state that we experience after we have been subject to “flight or fight” taking over our bodies.

It was while he was drifting in and out of this state of tired numbness that he noticed the eyes. He was staring unseeing off into the darkness in a corner of the cavern when he realised that something was staring back at him. Two bright golden stars were there in the darkness and they were staring unblinking into his. As his attention focused on the eyes he could see that they were in a small black face and that the small black face was hanging beneath the black body of a bat. He saw all this without once breaking the intense stare that he and the bat were sharing. As he looked deeper into those stars of golden brightness everything else around him seemed to fall away and melt into nothing until suddenly he realised that he was no longer in the caverns. He tried to look around but he could not break his stare not even to blink. Though the eyes held him he could see enough to realise where he was. All around him stretched the land that had been known as the land of the skinny people but was now known as the land of the plump people. As his awareness opened out he realised that all about him were the people of his land. He could hear them and he could even smell them. Though they seemed far away he could sense them all and every one as if they were sitting with him in a quiet room. But they were not quiet. They were all shouting and many of them were screaming. They were shouting and arguing with each other and as he understood that things were not well in the land he realised that there was also fighting. All about him were people in turmoil and as he listened he could hear what they were yelling and screaming.

“Fairness!”

 Called a chorus of voices.

“Austerity!”

Cried another group.

Slim realised he was shaking. It did not feel like fear but it was annoying. The eyes held him with their intensity and brightness while all around him people were fighting and raging and screaming. He could see that there were groups of people waving big signs with words on them that were the same words that they were shouting. He suddenly realised that they were all fighting and arguing about mushrooms. There were no longer enough mushrooms to go around and one group of people was calling for the other group of people to tighten their belts while the other group of people was calling on the first group to tighten theirs and share what they had with the rest. The first group of people were rather plump and Slim could sense that amongst them were the government men and the soldiers and other groups of people who were part of the grand industry of mushrooms while the second group were not quite so plump but were a much bigger group of people. He recognised his family – his little sister grown up and hugging a child to her breast and two others to her legs – his father leaning on a cane and his mother holding an empty rice bowl. Thousands of people. Millions of people. And they were all calling for more mushrooms while the government men and the soldiers were calling for control and for everyone to tighten their belts. The noise of them rose like a storm all around him.

Slim was shaking violently now. The eyes were holding him and the noise of the people was engulfing him and all the while he was shaking. He felt himself asking the eyes “why” but the eyes just shone brightly and devoured him with their intensity until with the noise and the shaking and the piercing of his soul Slim cried into the night.

“Nooooo!”

“Slim! Wake up! Slim”

“What? Huh?”

“Slim wake up. The rain has stopped. We can go now.” It was Stick and he was shaking Slim by the shoulder.

Slim came awake. The dawn light was sneaking through the bushes at the mouth of the cave and falling on his face. He looked around for the eyes but he knew that they were gone. It had been an incredible dream. He pulled his skinny body from where he had fallen asleep and stood.

He moved towards the mouth of the cave.

“Slim.”

“Yes Stick?”

“What’s that smell?”

i was inspired to add a space bat after reading John Michael Greer

think it's baloney?

(if you liked this story you might also like The Model)

The Model

For the eighty seventh time Chris watched the recording of the model extrapolation through each generation of genotype expression. The cold hard fear that he had felt the first few times he had watched it was now gone and a numbness had taken its place. There was nothing for it but to take a “scientific” attitude to the results and to continue to try and refute them. He’d changed the starting parameters a dozen times. He’d changed the weightings on all of the phenotype modules. He’d varied everything down to even changing things that were totally unlikely to happen in nature like the number of offspring per female and the expected lifetime density function. Nothing he had done had changed the outcome that was again staring him in the face.

The BOINC project he had started as part of the support for his PhD thesis had been running on somewhere in excess of two hundred million devices in the grid. Each of those devices had something like eight cores available for use so that the total number of “individuals” in the model was typically well in excess of a billion. Sure that was well below the world’s current population of ten billion but surely it was enough? Maybe the basic theories implemented in the model were just plain wrong? He’d run each module’s specifications past each of the review boards specialists and they had been checked and cross checked. The only options left would take the model to where, well, that was the point wasn’t it – deviation of the primary modules would mean starting with something that was exactly what the outcome was repeatedly pointing to: non-human.

The first time that he had accepted that the grid runs were pointing to something decidedly disturbing his mind had flashed back to an old movie he had seen as a boy – “the Time Machine” by H G Wells. A world far in the future where the race had split into two evolutionary lines – one that was made up of sexually very attractive but intellectually moronic “sheep” and one that was made up of monstrous extrapolations of humans – super intelligent, physically superior but frighteningly non-humans who’s main food source was the “sheep”. It was only a story - just a story from the rich imagination of Wells. This was different. This was as real as it was ever going to get without actually running it “for real”. And this was not like Well’s story where the Eloi and Morlocks lived so far in the future that it really did not matter. This was happening right now. In fact, the only acceptable conclusion he could draw from the results was that it had already started. What had been labeled as psychiatric disorders and CEO “personality” were clear signs the process was well under way.

Who could he tell? Whereas Well’s story had conveniently split the species into clearly identifiable lines, here, there was no way to tell by just looking whether you were dealing with one group or another. That there was a clear distinction seemed now to be irrefutable. In fact Chris knew he could define a DNA test that would show clearly whether someone was in one evolutionary stream or the other. But who would ever back such a project?

Chris spent the next few hours preparing an interim report for Holly, his supervisor. At least she’d better know. He could not sit on this forever though the thought of destroying everything and dropping out of his PhD course had crossed his mind at least several times a day. He’d always answered those thoughts with the same line though – it was just a matter of time before another student came along with the same idea. That’s how ideas worked – when their time was ripe they emerged all by themselves. Oh well, so be it. He set up a slide presentation with sample phenotypes from both ends of the predicted ring species of the model. He picked a few hundred samples at random and ordered them by first by gender and time and then by group with the group he’d come to call the ‘Eloi’ first and the ‘Morlocks’ second. He finished up with various tables of stats and some graphs of time-lines and population distributions. As an afterthought he added a final slide that was simply the words “this presentation will self destruct in 5 seconds”. Might as well laugh at it all. There was really nothing else anyone could do. That was the problem. The model allowed for no other end result. He locked the presentation with two separate quantum keys one of which he coded to his DNA and age with an expiry of twelve months and one to Holly’s DNA and an expiry of thirty days. She’d have to come to him for another copy after that but he’d have finished his final report by then.

“Sibby, call Holly and ask her if she can spare me twenty minutes this morning.”

“Ok Chris.” His phone responded.

While he waited he prepared another few runs. These though he opened up to a much more varied set of outcomes by relaxing every weighting constraint. He also linked the “black swan” generator to a random web search. These changes would mean each run would take weeks and would most likely produce completely meaningless results or simply terminate with all populations dying off completely with each population centre dwindling around one strange attractor or another. But there seemed no point wasting the trillions of process cycles he’d painstakingly acquired over the two years of his project. If he didn’t use them they’d be wasted on some SETI project or would be grabbed by some financial freaks in the quantum labs to run some advanced “algol” models with the hope they could sell the results and themselves to “the Squids” as the ruling class had come to be called since world denationalization earlier in the century.

Sibby: “She can see you now Chris. She said bring some chocolate if you expect it might take more than a quarter hour. She likes coconut creams remember?”

“Thank’s Sibby. Yes, I remember, you can stop reminding me now.”

“Ok Chris.”

He picked up some chocolates and coffee on the way to Holly’s office on the eastern campus block. His car quickly go-linked to a set of three speeding their way across the city to the same region and his car decoupled just before the campus off ramp. He left the car to park itself and made his way through security checks to her department. The door was open so he walked straight in plonked the food offerings on her desk then went back and closed and locked the door.

“Oh, Chris, all these years and finally you’re going to make a move on me.”

“Holly, you’re old enough to be my mum no matter how gorgeous you are and I’m not going to risk you failing me if we were to have a fling that turned into a disaster. You’ll maybe understand the door when you’ve seen my report. You’re going to have to give up some skin to see it – it’s quantum locked. You can get to it from your link to my course blog though it’s only visible to you.”

He sat down facing her and she looked at him for a while before raising each of her eyebrows one after another as she often did when she was attempting to look perplexed – which she never was. Holly was a polymath – an absolute genius and Chris knew he was very lucky to have her as his supervisor though her personality quirks were a bit much at times.

She quickly zoned into the blog through her CAT (computer aided thought) interface and the various contents were then visible above the holopad. He directed her to the glowing gold safe threecon that was visible near the top where he’d left it and she placed her hand in the DNA scanner to open it. The first slide of the presentation then emerged: an incredibly beautiful young woman with distinctly Asian features.

“I can see you are trying to make me feel jealous.” Said Holly glancing my way before thinking to the next slide – another young woman who was even more beautiful than the first.

He sat and watched her go through the slides as each showed a woman more beautiful than the one before.

“How many generations between samples?”

“About eighty. It varies with other factors like the impact of the climate and resource modules.”

“Where are the males? I bet they’ll be more to my liking.” She smiled at him but he just sat there. She’d get to the male samples soon enough. He’d purposefully left out most of the transition phenotypes and gone straight to near the cycle end males of the ‘Eloi’ side of the ring. He needed her to feel the impact that he had felt the first time he’d sat there alone stepping through the results of the first model run.

She looked enquiringly at him again but he said “just keep going Holly.”

The last of the ‘Eloi’ girls was above the pad now and he watched Holly’s face carefully as she thought to the next slide. As the image blinked into view her face contorted into something he’d never seen on any human’s face in his entire life. True and total horror. He watched then as her expression flicked through all the stages of “grief” in quick succession to finally settle on a look he had no trouble identifying: disappointment. And anger.

“I’m sorry Chris but there is something I thought you’ve understood about me since you were an undergraduate. I don’t take kindly to student pranks even form grad students.”

“Holly, I’m very unhappy to tell you this but it’s not a prank. I’ve kept these results back from you for three months just so I could rerun the simulations another sixty or so times.”

“Then there’s clearly something wrong with your models.”

“Holly, you and the other professors have all checked and rechecked the modules. After all, every module came from one team or another of your list of accredited models. Every module has at least three different source models. There’s no mistake. These are the outcomes.”

He watched her while she went back to kaleidoscoping her face through sequences of feelings and thoughts while she brought her prodigious mental powers to bear on where the flaws might be. As she’d think up each possible flaw he’d counter with the work he’d done to deal with that possibility. This went on for almost an hour until eventually she just sat there staring at the ‘Eloi’ male with a look of abject loss on her face.

“Holly. You’ve only looked at one side of the ring. You need to look at the other. It starts about twenty slides further along after the last of the ‘Eloi’ males.”

He watched her steel herself for what was to come. She tried hard and he felt a pang of guilt as he realized how this was affecting her. She clicked through each of the increasingly large and grotesque ‘Eloi’ males until she got to the first of the ‘Morlock’ females. He’d chosen fewer samples for the ‘Morlock’ display as the impact of the ‘Eloi’ males was enough to convey the enormity of the results. She clicked through and periodically asked a question or two but her heart was no longer in it or rather her mind wasn’t – her interaction with the presentation was now entirely visceral and emotional and the only expression her face seemed to be able to hold on to for any length of time was loathing. The last slide evoked neither reaction or smoke.

“What about breed back?” She asked finally after she had finished the slides and sat there for a while.

“It might be possible for one end of the ring to breed back to a viable interbreeding line but the model moves into the realm of science fiction when I push it to have both ends of the ring actively breeding back to lines that might be compatible. Problem is that the further the lines progress from the starting point the less likely either end is going to want to see the other end of the ring as attractive enough to do it. On the one hand you have the ‘Eloi’ who will just not be smart enough and on the other you’ve got the ‘Morlock’ who do not breed on the same principles of attraction as the ‘Eloi’. As you can see from the results the ‘Morlock’ line breeds for smaller bodies and larger brains and can you imagine a ‘Morlock’ male having any chance at all against one of those male ‘Eloi’ monsters?”

They sat in silence for a while. Finally she stood and as he stood too she looked at him hard and cold.

“Chris, I’m going to dig up one of my old unpublished papers and put your name on it and then submit it on your behalf as your final thesis. It may raise a few eyebrows seeing as it will only be vaguely related to what you have been doing but the quality will be enough to quell any discussion. I’ll sign off on that thesis. You can consider yourself a PhD as of this moment. But now I want you to destroy your work. I will organize a post doctoral project for you working under me. It will have just the one goal – you are to head off anyone else who looks like following your lines of research. If any hint of these findings gets out I do not have any doubt that someone will come after us both.”

He looked at her for a while before responding. “Just how long are we to keep this up?”

“Until the crash. After that it won’t matter. Once geographic isolation has been established there will be nothing that can stop the outcome. Your model will prove itself or reality will show that you should never have earned your PhD.” She smiled but it was not a smile full of mirth but a mask of grim acceptance stretched over a face that suddenly looked a lot older than its thirty eight years.

He smiled the same grimace back at her and turned to leave.

“Chris, one more thing?”

He waited.

“The ends of the ring – where are they geographically located?”

“The ‘Morlock’ end is based around New York. The other end is in China – that’s why the girls are all so beautiful – they had already been breeding for beauty there for more than five thousand years but there’s been enough variation to keep the males small and competitive.”

He paused at the door before he left.

“Holly?”

“Yes Chris.”

“This post doctoral project you have in mind for me.”

“Yes?”

“Would it be OK with you if I relocated to China to do the work?”

She looked at him with that characteristic smirk of hers that every male student had come to cherish.

(if you liked this story you might also like the land of skinny people)

Adam Curtis

Some awesome documentaries by Adam Curtis:

    All Watched Over by Machines of Loving Grace

    The Century of the Self

Hooray Hooray Hooray

Oh gosh it's so exciting!
to watch the "Great Collapse"
to see so many freaking out
so many people speaking out
it makes me want to scream and shout
"hooray hooray hooray"

Oh yes i know it's grim
the consequences dire
but panic seems to be so "in"
it's time i think to sink or swim
to stock up with a case of gin
and sit and watch the play

there's really little else
for folk like you and me
yeh, buy some gold and bury it
(and hope i can remember it)
but we are in such total shit
who knows what folk will pay?

so while the world collapses
and everybody cries
as all our dreams evaporate
our asset values all deflate
and fuck it i am so irate
what left is there to say?

hooray hooray hooray


if you liked this you might also like "when the future comes a-knockin'"

Equality

I remember the first things I ever read about Peak Oil.

I forget who those early writers were other than the obvious ones but one thing I got from it all was the need to study economics.

So I did - for about 10 years - until I came to understand what economics actually is - it's akin to John Michael Greer's idea about magic.

Economics, as much as any economist might claim otherwise, is about spells and incantations that lead people to believe one form of magic or another is the most powerful and the most relevant.

The battle then becomes between "schools of magic".

Those who profit most from one school will back that school.

So, for example, those that saw profit in backing the Jeffrey Sachs lines of thinking would employ him and his students and sing their praises.

The process is of course rather incestuous because a clever "economist" would look to where the power was and seek to weave incantations that he'd know that power would be inclined to utilise.

To my mind, as the ratio of humans to available natural resources grew (in any defined geographic or socio/political region), we moved from profiting from the exploitation of those resources to where we seem to be increasingly going - the exploitation of ourselves.

As such, for example, I see the GFC and any other crash, as a mechanism whereby one group identifies "fat" and seeks to channel it to their own use - the most obvious huge target being of course the accrued retirement savings of the largest (well off) demographic group of the last century - the baby-boomers.

We have come to times when the only place we can look for easily plundered resources is the saved resources of others.

We are going through this stage right now - think about how much pain those retired middle classes types have suffered over the last decade or two as their investments have been decimated - and realise that a lot of what is going on at the moment in Europe is about default on debts and investor haircuts - the very same investors - the more well-off middle class baby boomer retirement investments.

Economists who's spells encourage and support those who recognise these plunderables are the ones who will be sung as heroes (consider last year's Nobel economist who proved mathematically that the (economic) universe is infinite and so there's no need to worry about your savings as there will always be enough for everyone).

Now, as the resource base, whether it be plunderable accrued wealth or remaining natural resources shrinks and there becomes less and less to go around the most obvious natural consequence will be more visible competition - there will be more and more people crying for their fair share.

When there was enough to go around such that (normal everyday working class) people could make a living, though we might have grumbled about how much the rich made, we had our roof, our dinner and our football so we were happy to let things be as they were - and the voices of those magicians who backed arcane forms of magic like "socialism" and "Sharia Law" were relegated to the shadows.

But now we are starting to see more and more people worried about their survival.

And those magicians who were in the dark are now becoming more and more vocal and people are starting to listen to them.

And what is their form of magic?

It is that which leads to taking from the rich and giving to the poor - about "equality".

Going back to my first readings about Peak Oil i remember well that this is what many writers foretold.

That, as world economic growth was constrained by the peaking inelastic energy supplies, there would be a shift in economic thinking as the masses sought survival wherever it might be found.

And that eventually it would reduce to dog-eat-dog across all spectrums of the economy.

And only the very strongest would survive - maybe by living within walled cities and extracting their survival by any means necessary out of whatever was left of the world's productive capacity.

Looking around i see all these new voices emerging more and more.

The new "magicians" - the "new economics" based on "fairness" and the needs of “the people”.

Standing back and looking at it with cold reasoning i see that the final consequences of the turmoil that we might spend the next century going through will be population collapse.

And all the way down there will be those who are crying for "fairness" - and who's militancy will grow.

Tim Flannery wrote an inspired book "the Future Eaters" in which he described the effects of population crash on the Maori people of New Zealand.

The first people to arrive in New Zealand found a land where every ecological niche was filled with birds - there were gazillions of them. Having brought chickens with them i can well imagine the reaction of the first to see the giant Moa (the Polynesian word for "chicken") – looking at the skinny little thing in his hands and casting it aside with something like ‘call this a “chicken”? Now THAT’S a “Chicken”’.

There was so much food that their population rapidly grew and their exploitation of the finite resource base grew with it until one day there was less food than was needed to feed the population. At that point they entered a centuries long period of population decline that led to what Cook called “the language with the most words of warfare on the planet”. Cannibalism and tribal warfare that left scars that last to this day.

This is the reality of a peaking resource base that has until recently permitted the explosive growth of world population. This is our future.

I can just imagine the “socialists” (by whatever name you like to think of them) in those days of Maori cannibalism: “you should give us more of your…BONK!”

Tasman hit the shores of NZ while this was still going on – “come here we want to eat you” were the first words in Maori ever written down by a European – shortly before the first of them were killed and eaten.

As I watch more and more people across the world rising up and calling for fairness I wonder just how many of them realise what true “fairness” is.

True fairness is what happens when nature deals with something that is out of balance.

Cry as you might about who is bad or who is good, who should have more or who should have less, which system should dominate, how the decline should be “managed”, the reality is that at some point, unless something truly incredible happens (like we finally crack fusion power or we discover a vast reserve of oil or someone figures out how to cheaply mine the clathrates) – the majority of us and/or our children are going to die in a population crash so totally mind boggling in extent that the only colourful aspect will be the numerous ways we find to try and kill off our competitors.

The noise that I hear from all quarters of economics and politics are just the harbingers of this reality. People are fighting for their bread NOW. But these are baby fights and nothing compared to what will come.

I have often pondered that if I am lucky enough to see truth, and that all of this is not just the culmination of years of reading the warnings of doomers and whackos, what might I do to save myself and my children from the worst of this?

The answer I have come to accept is that there is nothing at all. They are, or will be, strong enough to survive or they will not. They will survive or not based almost entirely on the selective quality of their genes – because there’s nothing I can pass to them, not wealth, not weapons, not learning, nothing – that will be guaranteed to be in their possession when the time comes.

Accepting this I have come to feel more relaxed. I see that there is no political or economic group of magicians to side with who will guarantee the survival of my decedents (or theirs). There is no need to salt away long life seeds or hoard gold or stock up on weapons.

There is only to accept that what will be - will be.

POP

if you liked this you might like the poem "for our sons and daughters too"

The Revolting Ode

I

As all growth falters and the darkness looms
we billions watch, our fear growing each day.
Some sit in their homes in their empty rooms

stare at their screens and have nothing to say,
or cry their tears of rage and rising fear
through powerless words that their fingers spray.

And others, their numbers growing each year,
complain bitterly and head for the street
while politicians and the rich all sneer.

And well they might those who have life so sweet.
They live in a dream blind to what will come.
Huge numbers suffer, resources deplete

and all of your plans to what will they sum?
To revolution and a boundless slum.

II

But wait! Praise the rich. They will save us all!
Their good investments trickle down to us.
Is it not the way? Don't they stand so tall?

Don't they wisely choose and they make no fuss?
If not for them, well, would we not all die?
Would we not be left with vomit and puss?

They are our leaders and do you know why?
They were born to rule and we to follow.
Where we play in dirt they rise up and fly.

We know: what pride we have we must swallow -
for only the rich can save us from hell.
Without them: in our own shit we'll wallow.

It's the truth and there's nothing else to tell.
If you feel like crying you might as well.

III

There will always be rich. They sprout like weeds.
It's at the core of what we are - predate!
Predate! The rich will satisfy our needs.

Come brothers and sisters why should we wait?
Why should we stand and watch all our dreams die?
When all we need to do is accept fate.

As one, rise, rise up - let loose your war cry!
Fear not the bullets of their dogs of war!
There is starvation if you do not try.

When at last we have evened up the score
and the blood of the rich showers like rain
fear not that the wealthy will be no more.

They will always come again and again
for who can ever feel another's pain?

trapped in games

some battles that we win

lose us everything that we are

and they become forever a barrier

to who we might have been

had we not let emotion drive

our thoughts, words and deeds

in this i know

there is no hope for the human race

for always it will come down to

winning at all costs

and then

destroying everything of value

to prove to ourselves we were right

and to prove to our bed-mates

that we are worthy

but all it proves

is that we are lowly

and once there

we abdicate responsibility

for all our foul deeds

to "love"

Black and White

to see the world in "Black and White"
ah ignorance is bliss
you're good or you are evil
no middle ground in this

you're for me or against me
no sitting on the fence
no hiding behind "fairness"
no "give me time" defense

and what if we were all like this
and could not let it pass?
With stones in plenty near to hand
our houses made of glass?

i guess you'd say i'm "Liberal"
a catch-cry of the "right"
by i am one for Liberty
- for freedom i will fight

the world in which we find ourselves
is coloured Black and White
and everyone is hurling stones
and calling for a fight

i hope that in the future
we find a way to peace
and shed our need for "us and them"
and see all hatred cease

the hope is with our children
so raise them without hate
raise them to understand both sides
and judge with equal weight

and every child you ever meet
give blessings to them too
help each and every growing mind
find love in what you do

and maybe oh just maybe then
we'll find the peace we crave
and if we don't we'll take instead
our hatred to the grave

The Baby-Boomer Blues

it's a daily trial to click and read
the blogs about investment
with a zillion other boomer babies
checking each assessment

the panic button's glowing red
we're ready to withdraw
but until then we're concentrating
hard on making more

Chorus

ba-by boomer, ba-by boomer
we'll be dead in the end or maybe sooner
all our money will be gone
our investments all gone wrong
we'll have given up the ghost on just rumour


there's Tyler Durden blastin' out
a hundred posts a day
i don't know how he does it but
i guess it's for the pay

and even though the comments reek
of idiots and shills
there's no denying it's the place
providing all the thrills

Chorus

Mish Shedlock's yet another blogger
profiting from doom
though often he's a little rabbid
(unions i presume)

Australia makes him scream and shout
"your housing's gonna crash"
and if you prod him just a bit
he's prone to be quite rash

Chorus

My favorite blogger is Steve Keen
he's famous now you know
he gets a million hits a week
for what? Gosh i don't know.

But he's predicting everything
will crash and burn in hell
but i suspect he's hedged his bets
(he's jogging now as well)

Chorus

Old James Paplava got me hooked -
his weekly podcast show
i'd hang on every word he spoke
but then i guess you know

and all his expert guests were great
(pre Automatic Earth)
but now i know deflation's king
what's Jim Paplava worth?

Chorus

there's hosts of other's you all know
Economists of note
there's Krugman, Steen and Mankiw
and other's i could quote

and every day we read them all
and sift their words for clues
because we know we're suffering
the baby boomer blues


Chorus

Breaking Three breaks One and Two

i'll tell you first i'm not a Jew
a Muslim? No, i'm not that too
i'm not a Christian that's for sure
a Buddhist? No, not any more

but i have always loved the Word
the Ten Commandments that i heard
when i was young i learned them well
and now i'm old i've this to tell

the three or four that are the first
their meaning is in truth immersed
old Moses gave us words profound
their truth is such a solid ground

the first - "there is no truth but all"
it's infinite - there is no wall
no boundary to what can be
no limit to the truth you see

it's seems so simple yet it's not
the greatest of the Jew's Mitzvot
like quantum physics: if you know
you don't! Confused? To study go!

the second - is the most abused
and many a scholar's been confused
it talks of idols - gold or wood
a face on God is not so good

don't fool yourself is what it means
a piece of truth's not what it seems
you can not isolate one bit
and then in homage bow to it

i wonder if you understand?
so take a look at your right hand
is that the truth? is that hand you?
your fingernail is that "you" too?

The Truth you can not subdivide
and cast the unknown parts aside
the Wrath of God will strike you down
and in your foolishness you'll drown

and while we're talking number two
here's something you should never do
don't claim that God is this or that
He's merciful or tall or fat

because you see that's number three
to claim you know and make decree
to "swear to God" you know the truth
as if you were some clever sleuth

the Law dictates "do not assert"
the power of words is power to hurt
it's only in a court of Law
that you'll be sworn to what you saw

so don't mislead your fellow man
don't lead him to some Promised Land
don't seek to rule or lie to win
don't claim you know where to begin

those three above are all you need
the fourth means study them and heed:
each week one day is set aside
to know you should by them abide

one final word before i go
my words above are claims you know
i've broken number three it's true
and breaking that breaks one and two



doubt the validity? see here


if you liked this you might also like "At how the river roars"

What makes us hate boat-people?

we have to go! we have to leave!

my darling listen please believe

we have no choice, we have to try!

if we stay here we'll surely die 

they come on old and flimsy boats

unworthy of the sea

they come from lands destroyed by war

because of you and me

hey captain! listen! take my son

he's all that's left - the only one

here's all the money we possess

please take him and your name i'll bless

they come on un-sea-worthy boats

with hope and little more

they come escaping what we wrought

and what we wrought was war

Oh God! Protect my child at sea

please keep him safe and keep him free

please let him find Australia's shore

that's all i ask and nothing more

they come and many of them die

alone on a wide wide sea

babies, children, mothers too

with no one there to see

No my darling there's no word

nobody knows, nobody's heard

so trust in God, trust in His ways

God listen's to whoever prays

so brave they are or foolish

or so it seems to me

i know i don't have what it takes

to cross so wide a sea

There's news! He's Safe! Oh Glory be!

Our son's been rescued from the sea

Australian sailors found the boat

when it was almost not afloat

i wonder if they understand

the hatred here they'll find

how much we'll spend to keep them out

how long they'll be confined

Oh God! Please No. Don't let it be!

my only son has died at sea

though most were saved my son was not

my husband's gone too - he was shot

so tell me now Australia

what's made our hearts so cold?

what's made us hate boat-people?

what lies have we been sold?

if you liked this you might also like "Blair and Bush and Big John Howard"