Right now I’m finishing up my tour of Tanzania and a
lower corner of coastal Kenya near Mombasa known as Diani Beach. Africa is a
place of complex tribal relationships; organized confusion on steroids,
overlaid by a floundering, Brit-induced bureaucracy that further confuses the
whole mixed miasma.
Still, it is Africa, the mighty land mass, continent of loamy earth and dry, dusty plains, jungle canopy and deserts, soupy-mangrove swamps — and...a magic vibe; a mysterious union of opposites and passions-run-amok. It shocks the senses of Western dog-man; and I’m sure it rankles the dynastic rice bowls of the ching-chong Chinamen, yanking them far outside their ken. Even Arabs and Indian traders tread lightly here, or wheedle out an existence in spite of the clamor and black blustering throngs. It’s a special place all right.
And I tune-in the news from my special sources — a news much closer to the truth than the usual spouting fountain of flotsam and jetsam. I hear the babble from both sides coming on strong as ever and wonder how much longer the charade can maintain its own idiot mind. And while I do long for the familiar after so much of the exotic, yet I regret having to return to the pressure cooker that is the false corporate American drama.
The embarrassing mess it’s become is only exceeded by the number of years — @ 160 of them — that it’s been on a slow boil going straight to hell. Oh that dirty, double-dealing Dishonest Abe, the turncoat Brit-man splitter of all that the Republic stood for; a false icon whose deceits were covered by the misty mountain hops of time and phony fables — and like his partner-in-crime, the CIA-manufactured “Obama”— even his birth is a lie.
So I return born anew, less the blustering blister and more the new mountain man, but, who took the detour on the way to the mountaintop. Yes I’ve been to the mountain meadow, then climbed back down; “I’ve seen things” as did Roy Batty in Bladerunner:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QefqJ7YhbWQ
But my heart goes out to burned-out Rick Deckart too and his rancored plight, the hero’s anti-hero hero; an old guy not-yet-that-old and still a guy doing what guys do best: busting up the place whenever-in-doubt — and Deckart does whatever Deckart wants. Even when he’s on the skids he’s still… Deckart. Some say he was a replicant too…
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=C9KAqhbIZ7o
Yes, folks, how deep and dreary it goes as we slog along following the natural disorder of things to their logically disordered conclusion, its bitter end. Our Soviet USA, Inc. now crashing, it burns, and most of the world follows along like the clone puppies they are.
I’ll return a wacked-out avatar, reluctant to advance much further in the game; watching, planning, playing, working, doing, being — caught between those worlds of Roy and Deckart, grokking both, preferring neither.
Still, the imagined future is a bang-bang-shoot-‘em-up universe of machines in wildly romantic settings, isn’t it? It’s a Roy-world caught in the maw of control matrix Deckart's paws. Kind of like this: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yZO76kmRpNw
We dream and live on; swamp frogs only croak; and the third stone from the sun stays on its orbital tumble, going round and round — a jolly-good merry-go-round, really, on its way from Nevermore to Evermore.
But now it's time to get back to that Long Hot Summer:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fc1uO6CD3sM&list=PLw0Zj9Cc_EEhtNx2OwcDaHlnVIpRYmbNw&index=6
Just
a House Burnin’ Down — the House of
Rothschild and Rockefeller
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FnYWfVPT5aI
So get
your ringside seat Up From the Skies
‘round the frog pond while you can. See you there!
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lObvUP6bpuQ
(Let it play on…)
