TRASH TALK CONTAINED

“I hate people, don’t you hate people?,” slurred Wanda Wilcox upon downing a shot of vodka.

“I don’t hate people, I just feel better when they’re not around,” replied Henry Chinaski

With these words, the antihero in Charles Bukowski’s Barfly, spoke my mind about practically all of Western civilization; from the gullible believers in the mythical stick and carrot lie behind the crucifix and dollar sign disguise, to the profiteering puppeteers pushing the unnoticed addiction. If it weren’t for the saving grace of loving music running throughout humanity reminding me of my connection, I might be a downright misanthrope when it comes to majorities, masses or other such groups in which people gather for the authoritative might of group righteousness in lieu of the more direct experience of taking personal responsibility for ourselves before thinking we have anything to contribute more than our deficit.

Man has been fucking with nature steadily enough, long enough to change the evolution of local species. The Heike crab has been selectively evolved by the ancestors of the survivors of a battle in which samurai combatants died heroically. For many generations fishermen have thrown back the crabs with the face of a samurai on their shell in honor of their memory.



What does that say about enforced tradition on the evolution of the local human adherents? James Watson is treading on some pretty anthropocentric toes suggesting that further research has indicated that biology from different indigenous humans is as different as varieties of any species. This pricks up the ears of the “man created equal,” civil rights crowd among religious and scientific minded alike. I have long suspected an eventual species split between the technologically addicted prosthetic dependent supporters of man’s destiny in the stars and the indigenous and reborn, re-realized Earthlings remaining directly symbiotic with the natural curve.

That’s my best scenario. I may be an optimist, but not foolish enough to expect mankind to return to complete symbiosis. The heedless momentum of corporation’s gutting genuine quality for maximum quantity at the bottom line seems quite capable of milking customer dependence until the entire species dies of cancer with multiple collateral damages to the planet as mankind finally makes its mark — a gravestone made of trash.

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Our early reactions to the startling accumulation of waste inherent in our throw away society, already apparent in the early ‘50s, wasn’t to insist on manufacturer’s designing for easy updates, repairs or recycling of 100% of the product and on 100% recycling or biodegradability for the packaging industry, easily the two most obvious culprits to blame as we carelessly opted to hide the evidence further out of town in a cover-up anti-litter campaign which touched the packaging or thing manufacturing industry not a whit. Same thing with nuclear waste, “Bury it so deep that it won’t mutate anyone we know before our grandchildren die.” Good planning. They must have gotten away with cheating on many tests. They were certainly among my fellow engineering acolytes who, upon graduation, burned their books vowing to never read again. Got degree, close mind, rake in cash for pseudo authority.

This is a perfect example of the mindset of this and many administrations about every ripple in the pond. They don’t do what needs to be done to remedy the situation; they decide what the people want to hear, say they’re doing it with the most inventive vagueness they can manage, and exploit the upset to the most efficient advantage for the actual offenders, their prime paychecks from satisfied stockholders, lobbying industry dollars, off the books and out of congress and the papers!

The biggest boon to the packaging industry was a single case in 1982 of someone putting potassium cyanide in some Tylenol bottles resulting in the deaths of seven people and a 40% increase in the packaging cost of consumables for security against the still-at-large Lone Tylenol guy. Maybe it was Bin Laden — on the payroll of the packaging industry? So now we drink our tap water only after being poured, unfiltered into toxic, plastic, assembly-line-safety-sealed containers, which we then throw away to continue poisoning land we hope to never live on.

Increasing crises in food and water are being macro managed as water becomes privatized and food becomes patentable by the pushers herding humanity into more controllable groups and mentalities.

In my explorative reading I came across Jane Roberts’ series, Seth Speaks, a channeling of an ancient wise man. Despite my skepticism, I found some very profound statements among these transcripts, especially the idea that purchasing insurance is a deep denial of personal responsibility for one’s actions. The most unsafe thing one can do is cede personal responsibility to authority. All the other dangers result from that willful ignorance of the environment on the word of those who would control both it and us.

I quite enjoy reading metaphysical, metaphorical, fringe-exploring curiosities letting themselves roam with out tether to the “real world” of traditional civilization except for the transformation of thinking by novel ways of using words. In an interview with E.O. Wilson, he talked about the preposterous claim by religion that science is a conspiracy against god and creationism. He chuckled with the humor born of thirty years of ridicule before his colleagues caught up with him in social biology, saying that it is the drive of the curious, truly scientific mind to be the one who finds a key to life so simple a creator is proven, so far they have only extended and verified the complexity and steady development of the theory of evolution. There is no conspiracy to curiosity except from the one-way surveillance viewpoint of a closed mind with indisputable conclusions and beliefs to defend and constantly annoying curiosity complaining of the containing.

Well, back to containers and litter. Did you know that the US spends three times as much to contain heretics and sociopaths in prisons like human landfill than it pays teachers to close children’s minds with national criteria? Imagine that we spent the prison money on paying educators open minded enough to allow generations of children to follow their genetic memory with mentors answering the inevitable questions about civilized inventions; always too artificially fleeting to become part of primordial memory.

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Well, this has been quite a rambling rant, but I decided to go with the stream of thought rather than the sliced and diced categorical packages per post since to me, here in the vapors, it’s all one big ball of wax. E. O. Wilson disparages metaphorical thinking while describing the universe as onion-like layers of reality. No matter how biologically determined they prove I am, I am still responsible for the choice to direct that determination toward harmony with my environment or toward suicidal war with it. Neither god nor chemistry have a say.