Maybe, maybe not

It has been said that because of the Net all things published by digital means will never truly disappear. In the case of these words, I hope that is true. But even if they do survive there is no guarantee anyone will ever read them. So, it is to the unknown that I set down these thoughts. They may be of use, they may not. I have no way of knowing.

The knowledge that we have once belonged to others. As did the world. The only thing that is truly of only me is my love. The only thing that is truly of you is your love. The only gift I can give you that did not belong to other than me, and is only mine to give, is love. This I give to you. Once given, you can do what you will with it.

You can cherish it, or destroy it. Your choice.

Matrix-esc

As we hurl with an escalating rapidity toward a future where the lines between reality and the artificial disappear with each keystroke, I wonder why I even try to remain me. I mean, if I am given an identity that is not born of my inner workings, but rather is crafted, assumed, or mistakenly assigned to me by others, either in the real world or in the on-line stew, why should I care? Allowing myself to believe what is said to me is a no-win game. I can't know what is real and what is not even if I am always truthful with others. And the fact that I can be dismissed at any time for any reason means, in reality, there is no me.

But yet my heart aches in real time with real sighs. As we leave our physical selves on the Net floor and assume the life of a file in some coded number game, I often think if we are truly progressing or just masking our descent. There is no denying that most of our lives are already at the mercy of numerical manipulation. The bad and the good share the same pathways and can, without our knowledge or consent, establish any us they choose.

We need to reclaim ourselves and stop viewing our freedoms as a balancing act between the economic and the human.

The main justification I hear for this state of affairs is that we must balance economic interests and human interests so our freedoms will not be abridged. If I must live in fear of not being who I really am, how are things really more free than they were many years ago?

Ok, I get it.

To be sure, even if you don't believe me, my sensual and sexual nature still exist. My mistake, as far as the world goes, was assuming that that was obvious. I guess not. Being radical, in my mind anyway, means not acting as others would expect or at a time they choose. I go my way sometimes and I follow you sometimes. And there are also times when I neither follow you nor a path I have traveled before. But it is ALWAYS my fucking choice! Just as you must choose your own path and I must accept and be happy that you exercise freedom and equality.
Sucking stump is one of my favorite pastimes, but only one. I am not that simple a person. Equality has no boundaries. You're either on the bus or off the bus. Of course, there are those that take only small rides with their own Happy Ending as a result. Hi Ho!

Scientists discover rare fossil

H/t to an old friend.

Scientists in NYC have uncovered a 1 MILLION year old fossil that appears to be that of the "Archyopterix Ohnous" or "Oh No" bird. This strange bird was one of evolution's cruelest mistakes. It was only 3 inches tall but had 5 inch balls. Every time it landed it emitted a noise that sounded like it was screaming "OH NOOOO!"

Needless to say this bird fossil is extremely rare as it had no offspring and survived only 1 generation.

Till we meet again

This is to a dear fine friend
No thought that this could be the end
Though for now our paths may part
All that ends is a great start
we'll meet again, you know it's true
Until that day I'll think of you
See you later is all I'll say
Till you decide to come my way

Be cool and safe and happy

Close Encounters of the Thankful Kind

A few years back, the olden days by Cyber Time, I was captivated by a presence of breathtaking power and honesty. So, as idiots are want to do, I allowed myself to become infatuated with someone I didn't really know and who's life was set in a world I knew but could no longer be a player in. "What fools these Mortals be", fool and mortal, that's me for sure. It is no surprise that my presence in her world was tolerated (I'm not too big a jerk or a creep or anything, just a fool) as one of a civil and kind demeanor would tolerate most people that were not asses.

But I failed to return the honor that was being gifted to me. Not because I didn't want to, but as I state many times, and will many more, I'M AN IDIOT!

The tone of our communications has morphed into me trying to scale insurmountable odds and her providing kind bandages. The volume of exchanges from her should have told me something but, alas, as I have said, "I'M AN IDIOT!" Thus, the purpose of Bob's corner. A reflective pool, of words and ideas and observations and whatever, for me to excise my IDIOT demon so I can communicate without losing perspective. Wish me luck.

I must say, to those that know who they are, if ever you find this place, this corner, please come in. Sit a spell. Take your shoes off. I am, and ever will be, a friend.

OK, now to a discussion of the shit that is hitting the fan this week. Oh wait, isn't that the same shit that hit the fan last week, and the week before, and the week before that, etc..

Different Drum

Somewhere there may be someone. The people that jive with my outlook on the world seem to be beyond my pay grade when it comes to being more than passing friends. I was born under a bad sign it would appear. Sure, there are some that would have me. But I am damaged to the point that I can't read the signals that they send. The ones that I feel an attraction to must think me totally inept since I miss all the signs they carry for me to read. Why am I so dense?

The View From Where I Sit

When I was young I would analyze. Purpose was the nugget I chewed and tasted to see if nourishment to a cause could be had. My analysis determined my actions. As time passed, experience shown its light on a mistaken belief that analysis was all I needed to know the true nature of something. This mistake was mostly due to the fact that the analyzer was me.

But then, instead of analyzing purpose, I spent my time as an observer. An observer of results. Though purpose was still important to me, the only purpose I could really be sure of was my own. Observations, on the other hand, could be seen by all. No matter the purpose, it is the results of an action that determines the action's value to me.

This is the reason I don't care to be part of any established political party. While ideology may fill my dreams, results rule my life. The results since Ronald Reagan speak volumes to me.

Now I analyze my observations. Is what I see really what is real or am I mistaken because I can see only what is shown?

Analysis+observation of results seemed to be the answer. In this way I could see beyond what was shown and come to know what was not known, at least to me.

But, alas, this did not take into account that I could be deceived. Thus, it seems, is the allure of the political gamesmanship that we endure. The purposes, the results, the game, all are suspect. Mine, yours, everyone's.

The road to hell is paved with good intentions. Results can be misinterpreted. Gut feelings can be wrong. Deceit can masquerade as truth. Self-interest can trump anything. Only Time reveals the truth. Until it does, your guess is as good as mine...