MORBIDLY OBESE AND PISSED OFF

 

MORBIDLY OBESE, PISSED OFF, AND CONNIVING

 

OR HEAVEN ON EARTH

 

MAY 31, 2011. Remind me how this system works again? We, possessed of the greatest altruistic spirit in the history of the world, are gathering up all the struggling souls we can find and lifting them into a decent standard of living?

 

And when I say “we,” I don’t really mean you and I are actively pursuing this goal. Ha-ha, don’t be silly. We’re on the sidelines nodding yes. We’re registering our support so we can earn a gold star in The Book of Life? Is that what’s going on?

 

We’re with this great movement because we want to be known as good people (or not-bad people), even though no one is watching us or cares?

 

Or…has the “heaven on Earth” agenda spilled over the banks of the river, to the point where, in order to have an identity, a kid has to invent a disability and wear it like a badge?

 

Let’s see. Are we living in a society where people who earn money are paying out a very sizable chunk to the government so it can fight wars AND play messiah to every person with his hand out from here to the moon?

 

I’m asking, because that’s the way it looks to me.

 

And if by some random chance I happen to be right, how is this heaven on Earth thing going? Are cities cleaning up and becoming more prosperous? Is cradle to grave medical care making us more healthy? Is the ever increasing size of government making it possible to extend more real power to more people…or is it all turning to Bloat in a morbidly obese way any fool could have predicted?

 

What kicked off these questions? Well, the most recent trigger was an Atlanta Journal Constitution article in which an estimate was given for the total of outstanding student loans in America.

 

Projecting through 2011, the figure is: $1 TRILLION.

 

More than what all Americans owe on their credit cards.

 

So there is no confusion, we’re talking about loans made to students so they can attend college. And “outstanding” means: not paid back yet.

 

As of 2005, a survey study of college grads concluded that only 25% of these people could read at a rate that was considered proficient—and proficient simply means you can function in society and use information to forward your goals in life.

 

Since the federal government has taken over the student loan program, it appears the taxpayer is on the hook for $1 trillion, in order to produce 75% of all graduates who can’t find their ass with both hands.

 

But you see, it doesn’t matter, because it’s people helping people, and this is the prime directive, no matter how it’s working out.

 

Speaking of obese, 2007 government stats indicate 26% of Americans are obese.

 

Call me crazy, but it looks like victims are everywhere—and you can define that as real ones, made-up ones, ones who did it to themselves and are now being bailed out by taxpayer money, ones who are employed by government to help other ones, people who study victims and obtain gov grants to do it—a whole panorama.

 

Whereas once America was thought of as a place where people lent a helping hand, now that seems to be the main business of America, apart from wars and turning tribal people into Jeffersonian democrats. Where is the opium again and who is dreaming opium dreams?

 

And it’s quite possible, these days, that a nice kid from a decent American home will go through high school and learn, in various ways, that making money is a crime and parents are oppressors and we must all live in trees so the planet doesn’t overheat and explode—so when this kid reaches college, he/she is primed for the more serious kind of bitterness, resentment, and entitlement—vital experience he’ll garner off of loans laid out by the government—which is the only force that can create this heaven on Earth that must come to pass. By tomorrow at the latest.

 

And then we have this unchallenged figure: every year, the US medical system kills 225,000 people. 106,000 from FDA-approved medicines, 119,000 from misadventures in hospitals.

 

So…when I write about imagination and magic, and when I paint this idea of the great dormant power in each one of us, I’m not floating on a pink cloud. I’m not doing double rainbows. I’m not touting the New Age as the answer. The New Age has brought this many-headed morbid obesity to our doors.

 

I’m writing every day about individual POWER.

 

I don’t care if some people think it’s a bad word, a tainted word, a fearful word. I don’t care if some people shiver in the face of it and want tea and crackers and doilies instead.

 

I don’t care if this morbid society wants to redefine power to mean something we all collectively jump into and share, a vast vat of butter.

 

That’s triple-A high-grade, 100% pure bullshit.

 

And behind the faces of the people who promote it, there is a conniving spirit that runs like moldy scum through a stream.

 

Do you want a universe you want?

 

Then INVENT it.

 

That’s the power society tries to obscure with its heaven on Earth machinations.

 

That’s the original power being lost in the morbidly obese shuffle.

 

Good morning.

 

JON RAPPOPORT

www.nomorefakenews.com

qjrconsulting@gmail.com

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

UNIVERSE MANUFACTURING

 

UNIVERSE MANUFACTURERS

 

MAY 31, 2011. Here are several ads from an interdimensional newspaper that might prove informative:

 

UNIVERSE MANUFACTURING! Let us build it for you! Move-in ready. All appliances and energy sources. Consult our catalog. Gods supplied or not. Easy entrance, no exit. Pre-hypnosis induced painlessly in our clean spacious facilities by licensed physicians!

 

CUSTOM BUILT UNIVERSES OUR SPECIALTY! Uni-language, gated planets, military emperors. Inspect our plans, work with a seasoned professional. Dignified cemeteries. CSI reruns.

 

A RETIREMENT UNIVERSE for the whole family! Do you want to pass on your genes to millions of future generations? Of course you do! Why else would you be alive? In our universe, we supply a religion that forbids gene waste, under penalty of deportation to a state-run hospital. Appoint surrogates to wage an eternal war between matriarchal and patriarchal gene-transmission preference. Square dancing, ping-pong tournaments, celebrity-look-alike performers on weekends.

 

COLLECTIVE GOO UNIVERSE FOR ADDLED MINDS! Be part of the Doofus! Delete thinking! Experience the thrill of melting down in 24/7 love with the One All Thingo! At first you’ll feel icy winds whipping through your separated soul on the plains of cruel choice. But then, at the last moment, from the deepest well of reality, a radiant finale will clutch your sacred yearning, as you’re shot up on to on a cloud of honey and transported to a fortress where patented OmniJuice floods your being and you realize this is your home forever! Soft rock, lake of marshmallows, electro-massage units. One and two bedroom apts.

 

NATURE IS NATURE UNIVERSE! Hunt for 60,000 years, fit into the environment, hear the roots grow; climb trees, shepherd goats, bath in snow, chant in monotone, blow up evil machines in distant cities. Exclusive Gaia tweets. Become utterly convinced there is nothing else! Raise children as primates! “Secrets of the Urine Garden” for first five callers.

 

AT LAST! THE SOULMATE UNIVERSE! Let us design your agonizing quest for the other half of yourself. You met a stranger for 18 seconds in a hotel bar? He’s here! Receive your initiation rites in the Oprah Palace and journey out on to the landscape of despair. Lifetimes of synchrony…and just-misses…and then….but we can’t give away the glorious ending. You know you want it, so let us build this low to mid-range IQ universe with billions of extras and millions of planets. Herbal wraps, hot stones; vegan paramedics on call.

 

PROMISE OF PARADISE UNIVERSE, slightly used version, for sale at giveaway price. Commit untold numbers of righteous acts that would be considered capital crimes with special circumstances in other universes, along the severe path of loyalty to a standard that will put you in a heaven others are denied. Commandments, holy book, some flagellation required. All races and religions invited. We have our own God and he’s pissed off!

 

VICTIMS PLUS! Have you been inventing a story of oppression that’s somehow never been accorded its proper due? Well, in our universe, we bring in the sheep and put bows on their necks! This your place! Normals supplied as foils. All the tables are turned. For once (and forever), you get what you deserve! Lavish benefits! Pre-training in the necromancy of bureaucratic interactions. Work the system as it’s never been worked before! Choose from a catalog of disorders. Full insurance coverage extended to family members.

 

THE END OF IMAGINATION UNIVERSE! Have you finally reached the end of your tether? Want to attribute all magic and creation to an external source? We have attractive life paths for trillions of serial incarnations. You’ll go with God, you’ll go with science, you’ll go with money, you’ll go with pills. We have it all. Our calibrated partial-narcosis treatments will saddle you with just enough doubt to make you wonder whether you’re doing the right thing by your existence…and yet, in the end, you’ll submit to a Greater Pattern. Geometric homilies, sacred this and that, ideal forms, gradualism, “it’s all about family,” “I’m doing this for the children,” “you only live once,” endless distractions constructed on the basis of “realism,”–you’ll become facile with them all. We’ll keep you hopping! Try our new on-and-off paranoia option. Limited light-year adventures available in some areas. Inquire about liability. Ask yourself if the End of Imagination Universe is right for you.

 

And a small classified ad: “Universe disintegration plus universe invention=You. Details re imagination. Send $35 and self-addressed stamped envelope to PO Box 43920518-A, Altoona, Pennsylvania.

 

JON RAPPOPORT

www.nomorefakenews.com

qjrconsulting@gmail.com

If you received this as an email, scroll down to MARKETPLACE and order an audio seminar.

 

 

 

 

FINALLY, TRUTH ABOUT SYMBOLS

 

FINALLY, TRUTH ABOUT SYMBOLS

 

The last time we saw her, him, or it, the winged figure, there were great shapes scrawled in the sky left behind, and then a single thought slowly falling to Earth like a light snow. The thought was: if these sky shapes had meaning, what would it be? And if each of you could decide independently, what would happen?”

Auntie Mime, Reality Disruptor

 

The only menace is inertia.”

St. John Perse

 

The red knight said to the blue knight, “I’m departing for unknown shores. Here I give you the seal of my empire. Hold it close. When the hour of the new year strikes, open it and view the symbol contained therein. It carries esoteric meaning that will usher you into my lands.”

 

The blue knight was staggered. “Is this really true?” he said.

 

I’ll reply with a riddle. Listen. It’s true if you’re a fool.”

Auntie Mime, Reality Disruptor

 

MAY 31, 2011. In land far-far or near-near, the people had an entirely different view of symbols. They developed this tradition because, for many centuries, symbols had been imposed on them.

 

This is not a hard thing to do. For example, you build a tower and place art around the joint and you play droning music and you dim the lights and you hold services, and the high priest hopefully has a rich mellow voice, a good baritone…and at the appropriate moment, he lapses into silence, waits, and then leans forward and pronounces the name of the symbol…maybe he holds up an illuminated stick with the symbol at the end.

 

The he describes the meaning of the symbol.

 

And it sinks in.

 

Squish.

 

With enough time, enough good prep, enough symbols, you can put a whole populations under hypnosis and lead them around by their collective nose.

 

Well, in this land, the people eventually got tired of that crap, and so they sank the tower in the sea and started over.

 

From that moment on, all symbols were OPEN. No fixed meanings.

 

Symbols were contemplated, now and then, and people could derive (imagine) whatever meanings they preferred. Each person could do that.

 

Then they would hold informal meetings, and after a few comedians loosened things up, people would stand, one at a time, and present their experience with the symbol of the month. Do their riffs. The only rule—don’t be boring.

 

The funny thing was, after a few years of this sort of meeting, the very language of the people began to expand…new words, new phrases, new ideas, new images…even new constructions.

 

It was a language, more and more, infiltrated by imagination.

 

And what do you know, the people became freer and more energetic. They sensed their language was coming into line with their creative impulse—whereas in many societies, the creative impulse comes into line with the language.

 

The people called this a major discovery, and they celebrated it by building a new tower. They discussed what to call it. After a few days, they said HOLD ON, THIS IS RIDICULOUS, and burned it down.

 

Every year, they build a new tower and burn it.

 

Just to remind themselves about what can happen when everyone behaves like an android and allows meaning to emanate from one point.

 

Their language is now 1000000000 times its former size.

 

Oh, off in a corner of a dim bar, a few guys reminisce about the good old days when things were normal and they knew what “the spiritual universe” consisted of. They wish it would all come back. The music, the snoring, the hypnotic ceremony, the closed symbols. They really love those closed symbols.

 

They’re even trying to build their own permanent tower out at the end of town by a tire recapper and a collapsed warehouse. Others, of the new generation, will go down there on a Saturday morning, stand around, and chip in advice.

 

Put more mud on that side.”

 

Make the holes for the windows a little bigger.”

 

Much amusement.

 

One universe, many universes, take your pick.

 

JON RAPPOPORT

www.nomorefakenews.com

qjrconmsulting@gmail.com

HOW DEEP THE SCAM

 

HOW DEEP THE SCAM

 

MAY 31, 2011. The words “religion” and “imagination” are not usually used in the same sentence. Bad for business.

 

If they ran an imagination contest, and somehow a devotee of religion won, he might say, in an unguarded moment, “Look, this is the score. I imagine God and religion, because I can’t do any better. This is as far as I can go.”

 

Of course, he’d confess to that like an ant would read the label on a bottle of honey.

 

Religion IS default imagination. It’s what’s left over when a person gives up on imagination.

 

Okay, hit me with the myth. Embroider it. Bring in all the angels and the rituals and the texts. I surrender.”

 

Why do you think the Roman Church built all those cathedrals in Europe? To convince the population their own imagination couldn’t rival these gigantic stone hulks.

 

Today, it’s TV. Same deal.

 

Do you really think you can go up against 400 reruns of Law and Order every day?”

 

To put this a slightly different way, if people got together and said they wanted to install a ceiling on imagination, whatever they came up with WOULD BE RELIGION.

 

How else could they make the limitation stick?

 

One of the main features of society is that it’s a place where you can “get religion.”

 

COME ON IN, FOLKS. LEAVE YOUR DONATION AT THE DOOR. ALL ARE WELCOMED. LET ME SHOW YOU WHAT WE HAVE TO OFFER. OH, LOOK AT THIS. A CEILING ON IMAGINATION. THIS IS VERY, VERY POPULAR. IT’S CALLED RELIGION. LET ME EXPLAIN HOW IT WORKS.

 

With burgeoning revenues, religions can hire artists to produce painting and sculpture and design to actually DEPICT THE CEILING ON IMAGINATION. That’s quite a twist.

 

A few centuries of this sort of operant conditioning and you’ve got a sizable flock.

 

So some guy wanders into the Pope’s chamber and says, “Your Highness, I want to show you a universe I’ve created myself. It’s very interesting…”

 

I think they still have his skeleton in the Vatican basement.

 

Here’s another scenario. A painter paints an abstract painting on a large canvas. Somebody with a few billion dollars decides to mount a PR campaign to extol this painting. Relentless. After 20 years, 50 million people have seen and adored the picture. At least they think they adore it because in various in ways, they’ve been told to.

 

What do you have? Chances are: religion.

 

I stood before it and I was transported into another realm where I heard music. The notes showered down on me and I fell to my knees and saw my dead aunt. She spoke a language I had never heard before…”

 

A friend just emailed and reminded me about the use to which the UFO movement has been put. One segment of that community (and this has nothing to do with whether UFOs exist or where they come from) think that, with the arrival of space aliens, we will UNDERGO A RELIGIOUS CONVERSION. Wait. How did religion get into the act?

 

My first action as president, emperor, ruler-of-all will be to declare a religion holiday.

 

MY FRIENDS, ON JUNE 9TH, WE WILL TAKE A BREATH AND STEP BACK AND FORGET ABOUT ALL RELIGIONS. WE’LL REMEMBER THAT THIS WAS ALL IMAGINATION. AND STILL IS. AND THEREFORE, IMAGINATION IS VERY POWERFUL. LET’S NOT DEMEAN IT OR SET A CEILING ON IT, LET’S USE IT.

 

Hmmm. Have to rework that. Comes across a little too much like an ad for GE or IBM.

 

Meanwhile, I’m working on a new HOLY SACRED pill. You take it once a month and for a three-minute chunk out of the month you experience an intense influx of HOLY SACRED, which keeps you satisfied for the rest of the month. The pill experience is designed to make you feel the HOLY SACRED is coming from an external unnameable mysterious source. Side effects include dropping to your knees, a flood of tears, extensive gratitude, feeling tiny, and, occasionally, inflicting wounds on self. But these effects only last for three minutes, then you’re good for the month.

 

You realize your imagination is infinite, and you get on with creating new realities.

 

The uplift from THAT more than makes up for the loss of HOLY SACRED.

 

Amusing coda: as I was putting the finishing touches on this piece, our doorbell rang eight or nine times. Ding. Ding ding. Ding ding ding…

 

Jehovah’s Witnesses.

 

I kid you not.

 

JON RAPPOPORT

www.nomorefakenews.com

qjrconsulting@gmail.com

If you’re receiving this as an email, scroll down a little and click MARKETPLACE. My audio seminars are listed.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

SAY THAT AGAIN?

 

SAY THAT AGAIN?

 

The trouble with Buddhism?–in order to free oneself of all desire, one has to desire to do so.”

Henry Miller, “Henry Miller on Writing,” 1964

 

MAY 30, 2011. Here is a slice attributed to Joseph Campbell, celebrated author of The Hero with a Thousand Faces:

 

The goal of life is to make your heartbeat match the beat of the universe, to match your nature with Nature.”

 

Maybe he penned that on a slow Saturday afternoon. Maybe he had indigestion. Maybe he was sipping a few rum and Cokes.

 

It’s hard for me to think of a quote I’d disagree with more.

 

Hitch your imagination up to a few horses, and let’s take a ride into the heart of Nature, where we’ll do the Great Merge, and then, like Sampson, we’ll all have suitable haircuts and wear badges as citizens of the great Match.com.

 

No thanks. I’ll fold that hand.

 

The deck is being dealt from the bottom.

 

Give me the joker, the wild card—imagination—and you can keep on playing strip poker.

 

I’ll wait and watch everybody go broke.

 

Whatever else you want to say about it, Nature, universe, is one work of art among many, among a potential infinity of works of art.

 

The others are supplied by imagination.

 

The ancient Tibetans had it right. Become the tree if you want to. Go all the way inside the inside. Merge with the rhythms, the sap, the energy, the space and time of it, the mind and soul of it…go as deep as deep is…love it with all your might if you want to…and THEN, when you’ve hadenough, DIS-ATTACH. Ditto for rock, cloud, sky, star.

 

Do you really want to believe your goal is to merge PERMANENTLY with one work of art? Do you want to believe you’re not going to create your own?

 

Kandinsky is credited (sort of) with painting the first abstract painting, in 1911. A picture that didn’t refer to Nature. Then critics decided: well, OF COURSE Kandinsky was making reference to Nature. He had to. Where else can a painter go?

 

This sort of pundit-nonsense will always be with us. Just as hypnotism will always be with us.

 

I’d prefer the opposite extreme of commentary: “we’re no longerbamboozled by Nature or the universe…”

 

The problem here? It’s RELIGION. The propaganda of devotion to universe/Nature. As if, in such humility, there is great pride.

 

Always a bad sign.

 

Just to make things clear–

 

Question: “If we’re not going to match ourselves to Nature, what’s left?”

 

Answer: “99.99999999999999999999 %.”

 

Prostrate ourselves before universe? It’s like saying all magic springs from wood sprites. If you buy that one, I have a an 18-wheeler on Bernard’s Star I’m unloading at a loss.

 

Like all religion, universe-worship is a confession of creative bankruptcy.

 

This is all I can imagine—don’t bug me. I’m a nature guy.”

 

For some artists, Nature/Universe is like a pole pole vaulters use to get over the bar. Fine. No problem. Gauguin, Van Gogh, Cezanne. Go to it. But let’s not take this into the realm of ultra-psychology, as Campbell does in his quote, above. Wonder whether he really wrote it.

 

At any rate, the sentiment expressed is one that millions of people believe they believe. Until they don’t. Until they see, quietly, it’s a mask.

 

The other day I saw a guy hawking newspapers on the corner:

 

HEY, GETCHUR PAPE! UNIVERSE AND US ARE ONE BIG GOO! JOIN UP. BE A BLOCK CAPTAIN! SPREAD THE WORD! GOO GOO. WE MERGED! FOR GOOD! NO GOING BACK NOW! THE WEDDING’S OVER! FROM HERE ON OUT, IT’S ONE LONG HONEYMOON!

 

Imagination was fun for a while. But then we got goo. Much, much better.” Zzzzzzzzzzzzzz.

 

The joker in the deck, as I said, is imagination. It’s the override. Of course, some people think of this as a felony.

 

Basically, poet/ philosopher Giordano Bruno was executed for it by the Church. On February 17, 1600, in the Campo de’ Fiori, after languishing in prison for seven years—the length of his trial for heresy—Bruno was burned at the stake.

 

Now, imagination is simply ignored, and little gods of nature jet set around the world spreading the holy message of devotion.

 

I want meadows red in tone and trees painted in blue. Nature has no imagination.”

Charles Baudelaire

 

In America, the Indian spirit has been mythologized with gloss, by others, for a long, long time. As if their Oneness with Nature was so profound it was a constant hum. Think about it. Do you really believe that when food was short and winter on the plains was long, when the Buffalo went far away, when times were very, very tough, when people were sick, all the Indians all the time maintained a solid stance and inhabited the painting that is Nature? That some didn’t curse and wish for another kind of world? Separate the phony historians and the B movies from the truth. Do you think all Indians were the same—or were there differences between people as there are in any other group?

 

This myth and other similar tales are blown way out of proportion for self-serving reasons, by people who were never part of any functioning tribe, who never really “lived in Nature.”

 

I point this out, because Universe/Nature as religion is coming back strong again. Has been, for some time. It’s a facet of deemphasizing the individual—who is the one who has imagination. The only one.

 

JON RAPPOPORT

www.nomorefakenews.com

qjrconsulting@gmail.com

If you’re receiving this as an email, scroll down a little and click on MARKETPLACE, and browse available audio seminars.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

ONCE UPON A WEIRD

 

ONCE UPON A WEIRD

 

If Jesus had been killed twenty years ago, Catholic school children would be wearing little electric chairs around their necks instead of crosses.”

Lenny Bruce

 

MAY 28, 2011. There was a society that consisted of only 20 people. They lived in cottages in a valley.

 

There was no one else on the planet.

 

These people had no children, but they lived for a very long time. In fact, no one had ever died.

 

Above the planet, there were 20 moons. Each person had his own moon. Every night, he/she looked at his/her moon.

 

Joe told Carol, “You know what? There are only a few things we need. Food, clothing, shelter, and trinkets.”

 

Carol said, “You just figured that out?”

 

It strikes me,” Joe said, “that whatever work I do, it’s about one of those four things. But I want to do something more. Yesterday, I imagined doing much more.”

 

And what was that?” Carol said.

 

Moving my moon.”

 

Her mouth fell open.

 

That’s impossible. The moons rise and set. That’s it. They’re on their own.”

 

I know,” Joe said. “But it’s the only thing I can think of doing that excites me.”

 

And if you can move it,” she said, “everything will spin into chaos.”

 

Yeah,” Joe said. “That’s what we all think. I mean, nobody talks about it, but we all believe it. Suppose we’re wrong.”

 

Then you move a moon. So what? You have to balance that against the possibility of destroying the world.”

 

Well,” Joe said, “I’ve figured it out. See, things are in balance. And as long as they are, nothing changes.”

 

Carol told Mike about this, and Mike told Ethel, and Joe ended up in a locked room in his cottage. A prisoner.

 

At his trial, he said, “Two things. One, everybody says it’s impossible to move a moon, so why can’t I try? And two, I was just talking to Carol about doing it. Why is that a crime?”

 

Mike, who was appointed judge, said: “I’ve thought long and hard about this, Joe, and I’ve decided you’ll be confined to quarters for the duration, for the foreseeable future.”

 

In his room, Joe started painting his moon on sheets of paper. He painted it faithfully, but after a few years, he began making moons that were purple, green, red, orange. He painted flat moons and triangular moons and moons with holes in them. He painted moons that looked like beds, sandwiches, and long horizontal eyeballs.

 

One day, he painted a moon with saw teeth, and he felt the floor tremble and the walls tremble. Outside his room, a tree fell and huge blue plumes of energy streamed out of the ground, up into the air.

 

People came to see it.

 

One man accidentally stepped too close and he was propelled a hundred feet into the air and sat there. He looked around him.

 

So a woman tried it next, and she was also shot into the air and came to rest a thousand feet above the ground.

 

Eventually, everyone tried it—and they were all floating at different heights. Then they began drifting. They drifted back to earth and then rose again. They found they could walk through air back to the ground.

 

That night, they noticed Joe’s moon had moved in the sky. It was higher and off to the left.

 

And there was a man on that moon. He was waving. He was wearing a robe and it was flapping. He was jumping up and down, and every time he jumped, he shot up into the sky, and then came down. Finally, he jumped off, spread his arms, and flew down to the ground.

 

He was a large man with a beard.

 

By this time, somebody had let Joe out of his room and he was there, on the grass, when the man with the beard hit the turf.

 

Who are you?” Joe said.

 

Moses,” the man said. “I was climbing this hill, see? I had led my people out of Egypt and we were wandering in the desert for a long time, and then I decided to walk up this hill because there were big stones there. I was going to carve laws in the stones and bring them down to the people. It would have been a pretty good deal. You know, some people obey the laws, some don’t. You’ve got arguments, interpretations, recriminations, punishments, revenge, a deal with God.”

 

Who?” Joe said.

 

God,” Moses said. “The Guy. He’s in charge.”

 

Everybody looked at everybody.

 

And then, bang,” Moses said. “I was up on that moon.”

 

Where’s this God?” Joe said.

 

You make him up as you go along,” Moses said.

 

Joe thought about that.

 

Who made you up?”

 

Moses smiled.

 

I’m a guy in a story. I don’t know who wrote it. I was a slave and then I broke out.”

 

Broke out of the story?”

 

Yeah…I guess.”

 

Weird.”

 

I know.”

 

You want some coffee?”

 

Sure. I’ll have to do something else now. I’m cut loose.”

 

In the following days and weeks, all sorts of characters from stories began appearing.

 

They were interesting. There was a man in a red robe with a cross hung around his neck. And a tall hat that looked like a fish. He said he was the Pope. At first, he tried to boss everyone around and get them to build a tower, but then a tough guy in a cheap suit named Mike Hammer told him to back off.

 

A dapper man emerged from the earth and said he was a critic for The New York Times. Hammer grabbed him by his collar and frog-marched him to a pond and tossed him in.

 

Then one day, Moses laughed.

 

The 20 people looked at him and asked what that was.

 

I’m not sure,” Moses said, “but I want to do it again. Say something funny.”

 

Say something what?”

 

Funny. I think it’s like when you shoot up off the ground.”

 

Like?”

 

You know, when you compare one thing to another.”

 

The 20 people were bewildered. They considered bringing Moses to trial, but with all the new people around, they were distracted…

 

JON RAPPOPORT

www.nomorefakenews.com

qjrconsulting@gmail.com

 

 

IMAGINATION IS LITERAL

 

IMAGINATION IS LITERAL

 

LIKE A BIRD IS A TRUCK

 

MAY 28, 2011. Once upon a time, each thing was itself and nothing else. This suited the clan.

 

Then on a slow Tuesday afternoon, a member made a comparison in language—one word to another.

 

Half the clan wanted to throw him over a cliff, and the other half wanted to get down on their knees and pray to him.

 

They flipped a coin—or a wheel or a rock—and decided to reserve judgment because, fortunately for the future, the coin landed on its edge.

 

Thus metaphor was allowed to expand.

 

Something heretofore unknown was stimulated: imagination.

 

Immediately, an underground movement was formed to stop this. It was illegal by a Higher Standard, and it would certainly corrupt the young.

 

I’ve lobbied for a bill that would require every child, by the age of 18, to come up with one interesting metaphor, or face death, but the bill has stalled in committee.

 

And green and golden, I was huntsman and herdsman, the calves

Sang to my horn, the foxes on the hills barked clear and cold,

And the sabbath rang slowly

In the pebbles of the holy streams.

(Fern Hill, Dylan Thomas)

 

In the New Age—rainbow and pot of gold—there is no more metaphor, because that is confusing. Better to reinterpret it as literal truth and make believe it’s so. Flatland revisited.

 

In another venue, walk up to Security at a major airport and say, “My God, this is a Venice brothel without the cheap champagne,” and see whether you wind up in a small room with four cops.

 

The literalists take over. And they don’t even care anymore whether the trains run on time.

 

If you write a sentence that is more than declarative, the majority is baffled.

 

That girls at puberty may find

The first Adam in their thought,

Shut the door of the Pope’s chapel, Keep those children out.

There on that scaffolding resides

Michael Angelo.

With no more sound than the mice make

His hand moves to and fro.

Like a long-legged fly upon the stream

His mind moves upon silence.

(WB Yeats, “Long-Legged Fly”)

 

This is this. That is that. This is THIS. That is THAT. On and on, like a steamroller, until the mind and imagination go to sleep.

 

The sky above the port was the color of television, tuned to a dead channel.

(William Gibson, “Neuromancer”)

 

Deploying imagination (or understanding it) is not like sending columns of troops out to battle.

 

And without irony or metaphor—two of the million children of imagination—there is no laughter.

 

Just stolid old USSR eyes asking for records.

 

Imagination doesn’t work in a straight line. You can’t take a simple declarative sentence and make a one-for-one translation and turn it into imagination.

 

Conversely, you can’t ask Melville to write a children’s book. You can’t put imagination in a step-down decompression chamber and come out with anything except mush.

 

The literalists think there is something good about taking a star a million times bigger than our sun and icing it until it looks like our moon.

 

They are trying to engineer a Flatland reality for the masses. They may not know it, but that’s the limit of what they can conceive.

 

These are the letters of my ancient fathers,

And these are the letters of the roses

Blowing across the rolling apparatus

That moves the sun,

Shining through old windows

On statues of drowned men.

 

Now they shake off the rime

And stagger up from their trench,

Without a city.

 

They form a many-rayed subconscious moon.

 

(Rappoport, from The Thunderhead Cantos)

 

Society: all the possibilities of metaphor harnessed to produce a non-metaphoric cartoon.

 

JON RAPPOPORT

www.nomorefakenews.com

qjrconsulting@gmail.com

If you’re receiving this as an email, scroll down a little and click on MARKETPLACE to see my audio seminars.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

SIX PIECES OF SILVER

 

SIX PIECES OF SILVER

 

MAY 27, 2011. There is a fear of language. The major symptom is paranoia—uh-oh, veering away from traditional constructions will leave everyone in chaos.

 

This is what’s wrong with conservatives. They assume ALL deviation is a sign of an apocalypse, or something, a symptom of total degeneration of the species.

 

A little planned ambiguity gets you a special seat in a ring of Hell.

 

And a string of metaphors? Flame throwers for eternity.

 

Two sentences that don’t quite add up is a conspiracy.

 

(Liberals have their own brand of insanity that, these days, mainly revolves around trying to ban words and phrases and turn them into crimes.)

 

Well, here’s news. If you KNOW the language and then bend it, so what?

 

Applesauce, applesauce,” said the Queen, “what is applesauce? Whoever started this thing must hang!”

–rumored (by me) to have been omitted from Alice Through the Looking Glass

 

 

Oh for chrisakes don’t be scared of words, Charlie said. You’re running down the street after a coupla definitions dropped down a sewer like you lost an ARM. Relax. You might hit the jackpot. You might get a feeling something NEW happened…

 

 

Three pictures in a row on Thursday

ARE A HYPNOTIC LUNCH

then crowds walk through a movie theater

and break the spell

we weren’t in a trance after all

we were thinking about billiard balls on a table that never collide

 

 

average distillation common denominator

you hit him with a few words he doesn’t

put together right away

and he goes into the television for the answer

 

 

Here is a collage

You nobly call your life

the teacher wants you to deconstruct it

and put the pieces in a drawer

INSTEAD YOU CLIMB ON TO THE CEILING

AND WALK UPSIDE DOWN

blow through the wrong end of the trumpet for a while and see what happens

 

 

here’s a perfect crystal

so what

we learned nothing

 

JON RAPPOPORT

www.nomorefakenews.com

qjronsulting@gmail.com

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

WHY IMAGINATION EQUALS MAGIC

 

WHY IMAGINATION EQUALS MAGIC

 

Mountains, Bruce, mountains,” the manager said.

Mountains, Bruce, mountains,” Bruce said and gazed.

Echolia, Bruce, echolia,” the manager said. “Echolia, Bruce–”

Okay, Bruce,” the manager said, and shut the cabin door behind him, thinking, I believe I’ll put him among the carrots. Or beets. Something simple. Something that won’t puzzle him.

 

Philip K Dick, A Scanner Darkly

 

 

MAY 27, 2011. Ordinary reality—and all those dedicated to living in it and propagating it—is the residue, the leftover, when imagination isn’t being employed with intensity.

 

Ordinary reality is organized with a minimum of imagination. That is its hallmark.

 

Ordinary reality is what people usually think is (might be) changed by magic.

 

Yet, ordinary reality is constructed as a network of interconnected parts, in order to exclude imagination.

 

I’m ordinary reality. Try to change me through imagination.”

 

This can provoke much hitting-head-against-brick-wall.

 

Of course, there are many venues in which imagination can be deployed. The arts. Science. Invention. In fact, the closer you look, the more you realize imagination can be used universally.

 

However, when applied against ordinary reality, it often seems imagination produces little or no change.

 

That’s an illusion.

 

It turns out that ordinary reality was created BY imagination—but with a strange plan. “We’ll use imagination to make a reality that seems to resist imagination.”

 

In other words, it’s a trick.

 

It’s like saying, “I’ll create a labyrinth, so I can wander around in it and get lost.”

 

Or: “I’ll pretend I have no imagination, so I can need imagination.”

 

Or: “Let’s build the greatest wall there ever was. Let’s use our imagination to construct that wall around us, let’s make it out of steel and make it a hundred feet thick, so that when we’re finished, we’ll be trapped inside and we won’t be able to figure a way out, even though we want to get out.”

 

Or: “Let’s build ordinary reality so that it seems to resist magic in every way…and then let’s say we really want to make magic.”

 

Nice trick.

 

How about this for a solution? We grasp the full meaning of this self-defeating strategy…and then, boom, with that insight, we find we can walk through walls.

 

Doesn’t work.

 

How about this? Particle by particle, we dismantle ordinary reality and put all those particles out into space and then we’ll able to make magic? Doesn’t work.

 

What does work?

 

As I’ve been saying, live through and by imagination long enough and intensely enough, and magic will occur.

 

Seems too simple, too straightforward, too daunting. But it’s true.

 

Because this is how you really build ordinary reality: you use enough imagination to make it exist and make it seem to resist imagination…and then you build into that process an ever-encroaching loss of your imagination…so that, at the moment the walls are finished, you appear to possess less imagination than you need to walk through the walls. Time-release self-defeat.

 

It’s another illusion, because you never lose one iota of imagination…but you pretend you do.

 

The way beyond this ridiculous complexity is: you live through and by imagination long enough and intensely enough…and you’ll eventually—as a side effect—be able to do magic.

 

 

THE TOWER

 

The tower came crashing down in the storm, not like on the Tarot card, but in pieces, one on top of the other, some splitting out sideways in the rain, and bales of money broke open and the bills drifted in the wind until they became wet enough to fall like flat stones. The tower at the end of the world was gone. The station was gone. No more transmissions. No more information. The egregious lies stopped. There was only the sound of rain and wind. And the thought of what tomorrow could bring.

 

He came out of the cave with a harpoon looking for fish. Then suddenly, he realized how ridiculous this was. The sound of rain didn’t mean fish. Why had he thought, over and over, that it did? He dropped the spear and looked up at the sky. He floated up off the earth.

 

JON RAPPOPORT

www.nomorefakenews.com

qjrconsulting@gmail.com

If you’re receiving this as an email, scroll down a little and click on MARKETPLACE to check out my audio seminars.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

NOTES ON LIBERATION

 

A FEW NOTES ON LIBERATION

 

MAY 26, 2011. Liberation means freedom from closed systems.

 

It doesn’t mean entering into another closed system.

 

Freedom is the basic platform, from which new realities THAT HAVE NOT YET BEEN CONCEIVED can be imagined and created.

 

It’s a wide-open ballgame.

 

A person can never lose his imagination.

 

No matter what.

 

This is the wild card in every deck:

 

The potential for imagination.

 

There is no ultimate pattern of existence, no ultimate closed system.

 

So imagination isn’t reaching toward part or all of some Final Pattern. This is a major point.

 

Imagination is inventing something that’s never existed before.

 

There are infinities of things that have never existed before— IMAGINATION CREATES THEM…AND THEN AND ONLY THEN DO THEY EXIST.

 

We have no way of knowing what imagination will create.

 

This is non-system.

 

Imagination is individual. It isn’t collective.

 

When someone tries to explain “the ultimate reality,” he is inevitably looking at a product of imagination.

 

PAINTING:

 

Anyone can be a painter.

 

If someone denies that, he is clearly insane and shouldn’t be listened to. Period.

 

You begin. That’s the big secret. You begin.

 

You put paint on the paper or canvas.

 

I made this discovery in 1962, and it’s yours for only $49.95 and 2 boxtops from Quaker Oats and a cow.

 

You BEGIN.

 

Doesn’t matter what you do on the paper. You put on paint. See? You’ll have nothing to use but imagination.

 

Talk about being in the right place at the right time. There you are, brush in hand, paint on the brush, above the white space. Boom. You begin.

 

All the possible questions you could ask yourself to stall, including what seem to be the really sensible questions, are futile. Irrelevant. Born and bred of a culture that’s loony…so why bother.

 

Just paint. Go where you will with it. If you don’t like where you’re going, change directions. Change directions 50 times if you want to, just keep going.

 

And then on to the next sheet of paper. Keep painting.

 

There is no pattern in heaven or earth that’s relevant. You’re not only making up and inventing your painting, you’re making up (and changing) your aesthetic as you go along.

 

I predict that if you paint every day for 180 days, your life will change.

 

It’s all invention, creation, improvisation, imagination.

 

You’ll feel a liberation that’s very succulent and luscious and expansive.

 

Later on, you can try to find someone who shares your sense of liberation and can look at your work without preconceptions. But for now, JUST PAINT.

 

In a sense, when viewed from the angle I’m pursuing here, it doesn’t matter what system you teach people, if you’re going to teach. All systems are closed; they all share that property.

 

Class, I have 12 systems here in a hat. I’m going to pick one out and teach it to you. I hope, as we go along, you’ll learn what a system is really like.”

 

The life cycle of a star; capillary blood flow; decimals; the function of the kidneys; tire repair.

 

It doesn’t matter.

 

(This why my audio seminars don’t present systems.)

 

Many people find it hard to believe anything exists outside of systems. Actually, most everything is outside systems.

 

If we, on Earth, ever enter a genuinely new era, this is one of the most important facts we’ll discover.

 

EXPERIMENT X:

 

Is this an experiment or a metaphor? So far—the latter. But it could become an experiment.

 

A teacher stands in front of a class of 50,000 students. He’s teaching them some sort of linguistics. Every student has a page of text in front of him.

 

The teacher says, “Okay, turn that page upside down.”

 

Then: “Pretend this is a language. Go home and write an essay on THAT.”

 

Of the students who turn in papers, some will suggest “trying to translate it.”

 

About 50 will try to translate it—whatever that means.

 

Of those 50, 49 will attempt to establish a system whereby it could be translated.

 

The remaining one student out of 50,000—if the teacher is lucky—will wing it. HE’LL MAKE UP A TRANSLATION.

 

He’ll invent something interesting.

 

This is a very informative result, although only one out of perhaps 100,000 people would think so. The other 99,999 people would ignore that one student who just imagined and invented a translation.

 

Actually, this is what education IS like.

 

Systems are taught. Exiting out of that environment, a tiny fraction of students emerge with the idea that the key is really imagination. And they are rarely noticed.

 

JON RAPPOPORT

www.nomorefakenews.com

qjrconsulting@gmail.com

If you’re receiving this as an email, scroll down a little and click on MARKETPLACE to check out my audio seminars.