The new puppy is gone today, gone to work with my wife. I have a moment to reflect and think about what is ahead and behind as the new year starts. I've been preoccupied with precious Finley. Its a find name for a little dog, it means dragon slayer, fierce fighter in the old Irish. Of course I think I'm the only one left, the place is itchy and infested with Euro-trash and Wokesters..
Truth
‘Post Truth Politics’ and the creators of reality.
“If you're going to be crazy, you have to get paid for it or else you're going to be locked up.” ― Hunter S. Thompson Who has been running the world? Who is running reality? Reality? In the last 59 years, at least. Has been running 24 hours a day, seven days a week, 365 days a year. Its a machine, An industrial technical electronic machine. Now becoming highly digital. I know this all was going on during the world wars, and rich individuals have owned newspaper empires etc. in the past... But I mean now. Who is running reality now?
The Collapse of Empire and the ‘dick’ removal business.
"Girls who are boys, who like boys to be girls. Who do boys like they're girls, who do girls like they're boys. Always should be someone you really love." - Blur
The signs are everywhere. Written on walls by youth. Singers and playwrights warp the scenes to incorporate its passing. Its that beast that slouches.
We are in a free fall.
I am a fan of history, or I should say, I like stories about history, I like the narratives. And one I read recently reminded me of the process of the 'fall of civilizations', the process of that demise in a few generations.
Propaganda and the “Great Narrative” or, “How the future doesn’t need us”
Do you have the time. Are you patient enough to read and take this all in; are you focused enough? Your attention span how far will it go here without ditching what is being said to you for another idea that is crowding your consciousness for your immediate attention. Some ephemeral bullshit of what's important today. The Dutch farmers, or Ukraine and the Nazis. Biden asking what shoes he is supposed to wear today...
Poem: WHITE DOG
The white dog stops...
we breathe in for a minute and take in the universal breath.
It is dark out here...
it's black and darkly cold, out here.
The wind cuts the image from my eyes,
and I watch it fall frozen and split like glass into the snow.
This deep and unwritten thing -- waiting on edge,
for a free life to write it,
too large to see it all
deep back in there beyond my visions reach.
The starry dingle...I begin, and
now I see it,
I raise my head to take in all this...
don't worry you can change this later 
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