Acronyms Attack - the GDP

Products of domesticated value - these are the things we consume, eat, swallow, throw out and die for. These are the products that Miley Cyrus, General Electric and Walmart push on us. These are the products that were soaked in by the throw-away culture - these are the products that corrupted the culture of quality assurance and quality control for the ever lasting growth and sustenance of the profit margin, and these are the products in which we were told to shop. We were told to go shop while a war was waged, we were told we could support our troops by continuing to spend. We were told this to proliferate and keep the growth of domesticated products at the bursting seams of a bubble - but we were never told that we were all grown up.

Cesarean Section
The industrial revolution literally paved this country grey - amidst all the natural green, amber, red and blue beauty that Canada beholds, we paved the trees so we could live in freedom - but we never clued in to the fact that the industrial revolution paved the way to a throw away society. Trucking routes opened up paths to stores, paths to cash registers, and a path to your kitchen garbage can. A Sony product I once bought went on the fritz 4 days after my manufacturer's warranty had expired - they recommended a variety of replacement products, all I had to do was work a few days to earn it... and throw away my old one... As technology grew, so did the concept of throw away ideals and principles, the GPD would never have bulged it's twine from the core without these ideals. I recall in my early days of University, I had heard that John Henry Ford blueprinted the perfect automobile that could last a lifetime - and he threw it all away to sustain the ideal of 'throw it all away' - the Ford family would never have reached it's wealth otherwise. The death of the electric car came too soon in our technological taste tests.

Terrible Twos
The principles of GPD growth relies on two things - an increasing population, and an increasing debt-to-income ratio. I grew up in the days of hand-me-down sweaters, sock-puppets and soccer balls - but as I grew, the Reaganomics of the GDP growth became ever-increasingly skewered - and the hand-me-down traditions of our past generations vanished - I grew up in consumerism - the isms of all holy isms. As the fridges hummed and toilet bowls flushed, CDs replaced tape decks, and DVDs replaced CDs, and Blurays have replaced DVDs - all in a similar tribal fashion to Window 95 replacing MS-DOS, only to be replaced by Windows 98, only to be replaced by XP - and now by Vista - each edition brought more powerful stations - and powerful information at fingertips, and the ever-increasing powerful garbage heap. But as I've peaked to the precipices of my purpose - I've always wondered - how can technology advance any further - and I tell myself - technology should hold back it's reigns on consumerism, and dart back down from the ism, to science.

Growing Pains

But as things bulge and burst to it's seams - we have become ever increasingly more aware of our status and place on this earth than ever before. I do realize environmental enthusiasts have been spouting off about global warming for years and have yet to show any progress, but the '80's were the start. Generations removed from the first sparks of the industrial and consumerist revolution, we started to see the effects on our health, our environment and our Gross National Happiness index - they all began to deteriorate - all while the oil drum resonated the constant beat of the GDP - it grew. We have now passed another generation since the '80's, entering a generation currently lost in the mix of what to do, how to fix things, and how to restructure. Wikipedia may never come up with these answers, but it is the simple fact that the population boom of the North America has peaked - we've finally conquered the World. Growth, in the terminology of global population, has started to hit the apex of the turn - humans are beginning to level out their spread of catholic practices.

Developing

Africa is a continent, for the most part, considered undeveloped. The G20's of the growth curve have hit their peak - they can't possibly stuff any more sardines into this can. So to ensure growth in a closed system, G20's begin to segregate wealth and opportunity to those that are left in the dust, those that are left in Africa. And the situation is beginning to get dire in Africa - upheavals, destruction and genocide of a continent lost in the mix of our idiosyncrasies and ideological nightmares. The stratification of income in our own countries of North America don't come close to the stratification if we superimposed the continent of Africa on our charts and chants.

Puberty
So through all this, North America came up with another solution - China. The super-rapid-cagilistic expansion of the Chinese Empire gobbling up Western traditions fueled our fires during the onset of our Y2K fears. They, the Chinese, ate - and when you eat Chinese, you're always hungry for more - but the Chinese provided discounts on merchandise, materials and matter - discounted from the equations of GDP growth - discounted as a trade surplus for them, and at a trade deficit from North American labourers and drones. What was hidden in the Chinese firecracker was that deficit of trade trickling through the cracks. The Walmart shelves are actually a goldmine of material, and if each element and compound of the trinkets and Hanna Montana dolls were weighed by their individual worth on the world wide web of trade, we would find that wow - what a bargain shopping at Walmart is! And then we throw it out. The Chinese trade deficit is rumored to be floating around $1.8 trillion US dollars. That's $12,000 for every US citizen. And now the US has lost it's marbles in the sack of sorry upper tier echelon-ic aristocracy - the rich got richer, and the poor are bailing out the miserable executives. The US can no longer grow. They paved their lands from ocean to ocean, and are facing immigration concerns - the US no longer wants to grow. So how is GDP sustained? President Obama is trying to find those answers right now.

Generation X-ing
If we float across the great lakes of Ontario, we can also see what Ottawa is doing - what the stools of black biscuit tar pucks are contemplating as a recipe for disaster. For some reason, the Stool of the stead openly invited one of the curators of the crisis meltdown into our country - and with a pat on the back, as if we were saying, way to go buddy - ata commit a war crime - we let him go. But perhaps the Stool had other things on his mind - the flush of the toilet is perhaps sending this Stool into the depths of Lake Ontario - Canada is on the brink of finding out how impervious to growing pains we really are - we are about to find out how we can survive now that our kid sister, the US, is having it's dollar devalued and is having its entire economy crash to a halt. Recessions are never easy, they are never fast, and now that the once-appointed leader of the Bank of Canada, another car enthusiast in Dodge, has said that Canada is become a pasture of poop and manure so stench-worthy that even Stool won't be able to find a home, perhaps we'll find out how clueless the leadership of this country truly is... and yet they continue to lie - Canada hasn't been impervious to the crisis - we've had our own sub-prime mortgage mess ready to rear it's ugly head - all on cue after the ungracious meltdown of our kid sister - Canada's on the verge of feeling puberty rear it's ugly head and flood hormones of angst and misery across the nation...

All Grown Up
Canada faces the biggest challenge of all - keeping our GDP growth sustained. But GDP growth to a country that has burst at it's seams is only self-serving to the executives at the top. Perhaps the new wave of politics and puppeteering should focus on a new acronym - GPI - or Genuine Progress Indicator. The GOP, DEM, PC, NDP, LIB, CON and all parties should grow up and be genuine - perhaps review, analyze and project this concept to the general public. By finding the answer right there in Wikipedia, the GPI accounts for growth in a country, but measures how the growth has actually helped welfare and environmental protection systems. The Swedes, the dutch, the french, heck even jolly ol' queen mum uses the GPI. The GPI offers a transition from GDP to actually account for welfare (health) and the environment. It offers a solution to truly ensure the population that exists in a country to be accounted for, from lower class right to the upper. Instead of stratification, we become closer to the shape of a circle. But, in full circle, Canada refuses to employ this calculation in the Country's strength - Canada attempted (but not adapted) the ESDI - an initiative cleverly disguised with the words Environment and Sustainable Development Indicators to match the principles of the GPI - but at the behest of the MPs and the CON, the ESDI was never tabled again as we continued to focus on GDP and debt payback.

Domesticated and Produced
On the threshold of the global turmoil, our leaders pander the motions of a great actor - miming the monkey's movements, these Stools act political strategies and lobby for the support of like minded corporate stools who live in a world of consumerism and GDP growth. We need to wake up and realize that growth is not sustainable in a developed nation. Growth and development lead to independence, and Canada is currently an independent nation - the leadership should focus internally into our National structure - Energy, Health, Environment and Safety - all with the mind of ESDI, GPI, SRDC and whatever acronym we can think of that begins focus our attention to our real neighbours in this country - we're experiencing brothers, sisters, mothers, fathers, sons, daughters and neighbours all caught in the plight of our government's reluctance to give up the reigns on consumerism and GDP growth. We've all grown up and peaked on consumerism, environmentalism, capitalism, communism, fascism, absurdism, optimism, pessimism, fanaticism, geocentrism and all the isms that accompany it. Growth cannot occur in our age - we've overpopulated ourselves - GDP strength translates into slavery and fascism in some form - whether it be being stuck in debt for your entire trip around the sun and 700 moons sightings - or whether it be restricting a developing nation from ever truly developing - the GDP cannot work in our global technological age of education. We must find the right solution - or we'll watch the anarchic nature of human beings really attack. The acronyms won't save us then...

Doped and Rotten

It was a few years back that my experimentation into the world of wonders began - the Mad Hatter found his invitation to the Tea Party buried underneath a few still life renditions of my dream's inner dance - this time by chemically altering pathways for the reuptake of serotonin - the sensation was euphoric. At the time, I had no idea what I had done to my brain, and how the hell I had rewarded it with the experience of a lifetime. My previous view of the world had been scarred up to this point, as reality had reared it's ugly head and I realized that the romp of the regulations, rules, restrictions, roadbumps, recycled ideas, rotten garbage and ruined castles were overwhelming.  But at this one point in time, and at that moment, for no apparent reason, my shoulders had goosebumps, and I somehow found a way to feel my consciousness - I peaked.

I then grew, and continued to wonder - how the hell did my brain alter reality so much, that inanimate objects suddenly seemed sensatiable, that waves of music seemed to bounce of rays of light, and that self enlightenment was only a phone call away. To find a mind-altering state-of being, whether they be synthesized or not, will always fascinate human beings, so long as the mystery of life and death remains locked up in our minds.

Smoked Up

The greatest religious plight facing the 21st century is this space race: to define our existence. The Christians believe they've been able to define our existence - and for 2000 years they've waited in silent prayer hoping for the Lord's return - and for 2000 years he has left each and every one of us unanswered, except in our hearts, of course - our existence is to wait for His word.   The Scientologists, well, they've defined us from beyond the stars and through the Science Fiction writings of L. Ron - leaving the description of existence to imaginative exercises of the far depths of the Universe. The Mormons, well, they got their existence from the bottom of a hat.  The teachings of Buddha provide the inner search for existence - to feel the souls around you and every single being in conscious thought - the path to Nirvana is only granted once one feel these souls, otherwise, one is trapped in an everlasting search for inner peace - those unenlightened travel for eons until the moment finally exists - existence from within to be without. Existence to the Artist takes on a more physical and expressive approach, and is defined by every paint stroke, every speech and monologue, every still frame projected to express the Self in ways that define existence to be infinite and timeless.  And the rest of us, well, we just take drugs.  

The search for existence, as I do relate with Buddha, comes from within, but only by looking without - now before this sinks in too deep down the rabbit hole and becomes a philosophical nightmare, I'll dumb it down for myself - everyone of us mindful drones wonders at some point in their life, how did we get here, how do I think? And everyone of us learned from our childhood education that birds and bees chirp at each other, and after a few wet tingles and euphoric sensations, a baby is born.   Simple answer, simple question.   This answer, however, is often a linear one, and the question is not one of linearity, the question of life and death has 360 degrees of answers, a full circle of determination.    And that is something we just don't quite know yet - we don't know our own brains.

Injected

If we examine existence in two measures, left or right, right and wrong, black and white, big or small, fat and skinny, we limit ourselves to only two paths for existence - my way or your way. It's like walking up to a fork in the road of a dusty highway, and being left unsure of what to pick. Flip a coin? May as well given the obvious asininity of the connundrum. But often too much, we ignore the infinite other opportunities of the spectrum of the fork, focus the magnifying glass into the fork, and you'll find you can walk right through and into the desert behind the fork into a million pathways - there is never an absolute left or right, right or wrong - we can live in a full 360 degrees of our minds. We can live in any reality or any defined reality of our choices.

My dreams often interpret images into perplexing stories my left brain can't comprehend. It is summarized that the right hemisphere of our brains generates dreams and creative, conscious thoughts.  The left side of your hemispherical, or circular brain, controls logic, past and future, memory interpretation, reward and cognitive intellectual thought.   The precursors to these pathways of brain waves are the circulation of two chemicals, dopamine and serotonin. Dopamine allows the brain to control the body's mechanical moves, provides precursors for motivation and reward, and balances our sleep, and allows our moods and attention to detail to awaken.  Serotonin, balances our emotions, our angers, our aggression, our temperature, our appetite, and our nutrient and energy uptake.  

Inhaled

For ranking right and wrong to the path of existence, we all use these chemicals, or drugs, Dopamine and Serotonin.  For the cocaine user, the religious plight brings them closer to Nirvana each time, falling into the depths of Dopamine inhibition and the feeling of euphoria.  For the Christian, euphoria is reminding to them every Sunday, with Faith-full listeners reminding us every hour of the day - it is almost like a heaven on Earth for them, if it weren't for all the rotten heathens - but the dopamine and serotonin release at the time of prayer and faith is addicting.  For the addiction of Heroin, the inhibition of pain provide those teardrops to blissful ignorance, blissful to the point of your brain shutting down the precursors for dopamine and serotonin intake and uptake, and allowing the user to ignore the reality surrounding them.  For the Scientologist, the blissful ignorance that everyone else will suffer unless homage is paid to the tetons and meters that read the tetons to have you tested brings the everlasting bliss of complete arrogance - the scientologist will be carried to heaven on a spaceship designed by hyperintelligent beings - scientologists seem to devalue to power of Dopamine and Serotonin to that of a common monkey.  For the Mush user, the power of Dopamine and Serotonin becomes their playground, their exploratory cave of mystery and wonder - how does that plant grow - the search for existence to the mushroom user goes outside the body, into the realm of that is not defined by the boundaries of your skin.  For the Mormon, skin and boundaries are bountiful, the values instilled from the bottom of the Hat are sincere, but misinterpreted, existence defined by one Smith's brain goes against logic and reasoning of the infinite paths of Dopamine and Serotonin that can exist in the human brain - circular logic can discount Smith's logic.  Logic, to the marijuana user, takes on new meanings, whether tripping to a video game or reading and interpreting things with parts of your brain otherwise left dormant - everything is chill to the marijuana user, and everything tastes good with potato chips to the marijuana user, Dopamine and Serotonin hold hands to the marijuana user.  

Withdrawal

So in our ranking scheme for existence, we all trust that our balance of serotonin and dopamine are in full equilibrium, not too much, not too little.  Religious trustees ensure that the serotonin and dopamine are used to persuade the brain into blind faith, trust that the next prophet will return to lead us.  The faith that reincarnation and resurrection will one day cast a magical spell.  In the drug trade, these dopamine and serotonin levels are cast to dance to a different tune, determined to duck and cover chemical precursors to dive and dine on the cerebral regions of our unknown brain.  In the tune of the toot, the injection of these mind-altering devices are out of control, we don't often know what it does to our brains, and how dependent it grows on the user, the withdrawals are the reminder that we should not be tinkering with our tinkerbell boxes.   As a marijuana user, this type of dance is logical, perceptive and safe - in the world of the crack user, this type of dance is destructive.  In the light of the search for existence, we all suffer from the same consequences - why are we here?  And we all seem to come up with some type of answer - in all of our 360 degree brains.   We all want to find our heaven - perhaps we can find heaven on earth - it may just take a bit of bud, we are all drug users after all, Doped and Rotten.

Broadcasting Hormonic Harmonics

Framed Up

It wasn't long into my childhood I accepted the fact that my gene pool in nature was blessed, or suppressed, with limitations of my bones' reach and gravitational pull to the moon.  The spin around the sun and our moon's wobble around the Earth creates the perpetual motion machine that remains hidden in each and every one of our stem cells, brain cells, mitochondrial magic and nucleotidic narcissism.  I've always thought our bones grew to stretch to their potential from the moon's gravity (as evident in my childhood, when I would hang upside down in hopes that Earth's gravity would stretch me out into a giraffe) - but alas, as much as I pried and pulled and stretched and reached, I was bound to the 5'X" frame defined by my X and by my Y.  

At the very least, I was blessed with Myles and GH-2.  These two buds of broadcasting spread their reach through the FM Frequency q22-q24, home of harmonious sounds of the late '80's and '90's - and allowed their message to be heard by my receptors for a period that had interference from Vedder, Bono and Maynard.  To find the station q22-q24, I really didn't have to do too much, X and Y implanted Myles and GH-2 on chromosome-17 of my mutated make-up, so I really didn't have a choice in what I listened to, even if I was on a trip to the Moon with Floyd.  

Whigging Out

But blessed that I was that Myles and GH-2 were broadcasting, I grew.  My bodily functions raced to catch up and it wasn't until I was into my 3rd decade, 120th trimester, or 360th dance with the moon that I feel grown up.  Finally fully developed, and as the ecstasy user would say to his dealer - I've peaked...  It's remarkable that at this point in time that I finally feel ready to make unadulterated decisions - decisions that I can truly make for myself.  Decisions that aren't the same as my elders, and based on my viewpoint of the world.  

One decision I have made, is that it marriage should be illegal for anyone under the age of their 360th dance with the moon.  Ok, ok... I understand this type of statement requires some explanation - please continue...

First off, I shouldn't have used the word 'illegal' - this has such an ugly connotation, how about - 'Restricted'.  As if by the time your 30 years with the sun, you finally get admission to the nastiest, R-rated movie of your life, one that lasts forever and that you've dedicated your whole 30 years to finding... X-Rated scenes will be optional (lights on or off) while the decision will be made, with the obvious recognition that the price of admission to the theater will go up 33%, to make a shift to a G-rated and PG-13 lifestyle...  We should restrict the age of being admitted to the circus of marriage to those of the age of 30 and over.

Hormonic Balance

Of course, special circumstances need to be allowed, for example, if you are lucky enough to find everything that you wish for before the age of 360 moons.   At this point in time, you may have been with your mate for a period of time, and the decision has been made to procreate, or adopt, in the special case of mutual sex mate matching.  If this decision is made (or has been made in those that don't adopt policies of birth control) the applicants will a) file for certificate #62-&%D-314-C at their local municipal offices and b) wait for approval... wait for approval (insert cold feet here) c) before you can say 'I Missed My Period', you'll find yourself planning the celebration of a lifetime - your wedding day.

Vasopressin

Now one caveat to the misery I've explained - Al Bundy needs to explain a few things why life with Peg was such a nightmare...  The restriction of marriage until your 30 means that individuals need to accept the fact that human beings may not be fully developed until the age appropriation.  With that in mind, we are still adolescents under the age of 30 (and I do apologize for those of you that are more mature than others in this instance) - our brains may not have fully developed and peaked, and we may not know the in's and out's and birds and bees to their full extent.  We need an educator, or a doctor, or a therapist, or a counsellor.  Once a moon shake, that's all I ask.  Once in a blue moon, once in a moon's smile, once in a few moon, once in a moon's while... we go to ask a counsellor, what we are getting into.  This restriction must be made to only those with underdeveloped brains, or those under the age of thirty.  The price of admission will be equal to the price of underaged marriage.  

i.e. 1 year of marriage counselling = 12 visits; 

cost of said visits = $1200 (or $100 an hour, or cost of marriage certificate); 

the everlasting image of divorce rates below 60% - Priceless...

New Harmony in Wabash

The prospect of love and marriage will always be marred by the broadcast of growth hormones, pheromones and the hematomic state that humans exhibit before the age of 30.  I know this because I used to be irrational.  I used to have an underdeveloped brain.   Now that it's peaked, I can only guess that it is downhill from here.  Saggy bottoms and saggy tops - gravity pulling me back down to the earth.  The moon has shone 360 times in my life - and has stretched my body and mind to it's full potential.  A full circle of life.  I now start the circle of life back down to the earth - back to an eternal resting point.  I'm having a midlife crisis, Myles and GH-2 are about to turn off their broadcast - time to buy a Porsche. 

Attack of the Acronyms

POLISCI 101

Science has sculpted the greatest minds into the chapters of everlasting art. Where would DaVinci be without the ever-curious persistence to wonder?  Science panders to the lost search for the holy grail, the meaning of life with Brian that Monty Python had resolved to determined - science is what makes us tick.  A dedication to science could bring prosperity, formulas and everlasting ignorance - a virtue so true that DaVinci's Code itself could not piece together... Policy development and rule for the purpose of controlling individuals, could be argued, is a science of it's own - this code is so uncrackable that the vast majority of us have no idea what it takes to be a political scientist.  These scientist do not require vast studies of differential math nor integrated equations, they do not require courses in biological genetic soup or organically grown chemistry - or even need to be faced with the simple equation E=mcc.  A scientist dedicated to an art degree devoid of science - how paradoxical...  The critical nature of my stance is quenched when I understand the art of political science is actually balanced with equations and numbers, economies and integers - real life people hiding behind their fine mahogany bookshelf - interpretations of the Law and Politics - who wouldn't want a 6-figure job and pension plan set for 15 years?

IQ Test - 24 H in a D

Determining intelligence has become a fine art of political science on it's own.  Through categorization and sometime brilliant conception, an IQ test, in SAT, GED, STD or ABC, can mean strong acid test, gallon equivalent dry weight, standard temperature density or alpha beta gamma to the scientific mind, or stupid aptitude test, grade eleven dysfunction, story time dud or a b c to others... the story can be interpreted in an infinite number of ways as each passing neuron blazes across the electric field - stupid is as stupid does play a mighty fine banjo tune every once and awhile...

IQ tests can grow to be more complex or simple, ranging from either yes/no answers, to complex analysis of images and blot tests - all in an effort to map the wide-ranging human brain into a category of smart or not-so-smart.  As the political science enthusiasts can attest, most civilians can be categorized into labour, trade, supervisory, managerial, executive or drone... As we march to the beating drums of the GDP, we bask in the prosperity of competitiveness and pleasure - our Guanine is bigger than your Cytosine...  It is only during periods of unrest and disruption of the beating drum that will wake up our Cabet's and Montaigne's.   Political scientists scheme political plays ready for the Broadway show displaying all the Mona Lisa's smiles and sorrows...  The political player's personality profile can attest to that... DISC and Myers-Briggs would probably shake out some ENTJs in the classroom...

DAC

Duck and Cover?  

Data Analysis Console?

Detroit Athletic Club?

Department Appointed Committee?

Dead Art Calligraphy?

Danger and Caution?

Don't Act Cowardly

Dry Activated Carbon?

Letters, words, wishes and wonderments can be interpreted in a wide variety of Cryptics, English was the spoken word of the day, and english won the race... Political science can also be said to be a Masters in English Language - being able to manipulate words to sound just and right - but beware the Straw Man - he hides in shadows of conspiracy....

A Straw Man analogy is one where you take facts, change one fact and argue that the changed fact is your opinion - they alter reality in their words to disguise a hidden truth.  MPs mince practices by mouthing putrid miming practices while mystifying the people that music was invented by god...  The Straw Man analogy involved a great true north MP saying more birds are killed by cats and buildings than are by black bubbling biscuit tar ponds of the great true north.  The MP said this as if an undergraduate political scientist researched "How to mince meat with words" and chose to study cat hunting and bird squashing against buildings and published his paper just for the press rehearsal... The MP said that the 500 that were slaughtered were over 10 years, when real environmental scientists researched the numbers to be between 8000 - 100,000 dead ducks and geese and goose and ganders every year - the MP put on his straw man hat and did his best scarecrow impression - it's just too bad that the crow had croaked like the frog in the boreal forest of a lost utopia...

EQ

Acronyms bunch us into categories only supplemented by the inner scratchings of our brain to the deep subconsciousness of our dreams. If I dreamt of FW I would see faces of whispered flocks of fairies, floating wistfully while waving feathers to free the worlds' fake walls of fortune's wealth. Acronyms test our IQs and EQs, pushing our minds to decode the inner sanctum of our imagination, while labeling us with our true natured passions, NRA, GOP, MSN, NBC.  

The creator of acronyms can weave wires of fabric across the plains of the purchaser in order to mask the true tableau of tapestry beneath the shattered surface. And when the waves of wire ripple in such a fashion that tear the teardrops of the duct work and drains down to the dirt of the bare earth and monkey spit, the cretins will emerge from the cracks and creases to ride the Ferris wheel for one last trip as the cicadas search aimlessly for a quick romp. It's only when the crevices are created so large, that the log cabins are washed out in the soil, flooding the streets of the insects and creating mass havoc and chaos to centipedes and gray billed ducks who eat the grubs. All for a quick buck and a lay...

To act before you think will always leave you on the toilet, head down in the worst pain regurgitating the lost words of a million monkeys... Impatience will kill us all...

Hey Borneo

Primordial Soup

250 mL Lake Stew* (*lake stew prepared 2-18 years)

Diving into a lake can bring many consequences, you could go head first, risking the elastic support of your bottom to break tension and fly off into the great depths of the water, leaving you to your birthday suit and a new shade of red - or alternatively, you could go feet first, and risk the ever-so painful lake-diving-wedgie, like the pieces of material of your bottom are diving head first into areas of your body not so kind. Irregardless, two choices immediately present themselves in lake diving. But, you must first prepare yourself with proper stretching and a suitable location (I do not recommend locations with rocky bottoms or shallow waters, for you folks out there that already reduced your IQs in doing so). A favorite location of mine as a child was this lake that floated kilometer-long log-bridges. You could walk halfway through to Kathmandu it seemed at times, but the platform gave opportunities for diving, swimming, floating, laying, and the odd log-battle supreme - where either kid does his best imitation of a log-roller in competition at the great lumberjack convention.

2 pinches BBQ - 1 dash wasabi

I quite enjoyed those times as a kid - good environment, a heck of a lot of freedom and genetic make-up to make my short frame provide low-gravitational centrifugal forces that would rival even the greatest lumberjack in log rolling olympics. I was spliced from two varied gene pools - I'm a mixed race, to be stereotypical. One born from the Far East, one born from the Far West. Brute brunt and sockless sandals - childhood brought it all - forming a Wolverine of black stripes and perfect toes. My mutated family of X-Men didn't really produce any superpowers, but at times, staring off into the forest at my doorsteps, i'd think radiative superpowers are bullshit - Asterix is the superhero of choice - protector of the Gaul against the Roman Empire with his trusty sidekick Obelix and Dogmatix. Yes, childhood was fun - imaginative and too short.

But my ever-changing body brought puberty - the awkward spurt of cell growth that changed my body, introduced me to shaving and pushed me into the world of Don Juan. It was inevitable, my genetic soup of cells and solar soaking was breaking through - i grew up. But then again who isn't predisposed to the same tale of growth? We're all the same monkeys typing on the the same typewriter at this point - aren't we?

Repeat steps 1-22 with Crosses and Tees

Genetic make-up of chromosomes, nucleotides, chromatin, adenine, guanine, thymine, cytosine shook me out of my childhood. When I finally discovered and understood the great magician's work of chemical structure and natural selection through the magic and dance of the common fruit fly, eye colour, wing structure and leg prints, I was enlightened. No more voodoo curses on me - no more hell or heaven - no more sticks and stones - they won't break my bones - genetics opened the door. And what a door it opened....

The X-Y chromosomes determines if an adam or an eve are created - with eve taking two XXs and adam lifting a leg and taking a XY. I got my X chromosome from my mom, everyone human has this in common, at the very least. The surface of my empty canvas was then blanketed with sculptures and structure, beating to the codon's pulse, my egg and my seed were intertwined and commingled to spin a vast web of wild and weird songs, but always abiding to the magical tune to the circle of fifths, until the canvas' far stretch reached 23 pairs, XY and 1-22, these chromosomal Cro-Magnon mixing nucleotides and genes - fit perfect to a Levi 501 - red label.

Cook on high in microwave for 85 years

The human genome project battles on, tracing the roots of evolutionary genius to the cause of it all - our murky mutated make-up of primordial goop. As almost scripted from the tales of Wolverine and Professor Xavier, the radiative forces of the sun mutates us into these creatures of habit, routine, curiosity and hunger. Our bodies process the garbage we shove into our faces, while the brain is a mindless zombie to the true contents of their nature. However, the genomic nature of the industries that spawn genetically enhanced pollen and price-tags has created a viral infection in our nervous system and digestive tracts - they are poisoning our pollens. They have spliced, they have diced, they have sliced and they have genetic-sized the Big Stack - a burger so scrumpulous, you can taste the nicotine modifying your taste buds, the Splamato - a spliced nature of tomato and fish herring and the WaterFellon - a water mellon married to a fellon - and looks like a prison cube with it's stripes (and of course those three examples are purely my imaginative child drawing pictures).

Let Simmer and Enjoy

I am guilty of a little hypocrisy here - as much as I search and prod, I'm not a dietician to my body - sometimes I will literally eat filth - garbage - trash - refuse... well that may be an exageration, but my grocery store does not offer education on what I am eating - it's not there - i'm a blind sheep needing a shepherd at this point in my grocery store - I sure do hope my grocery store isn't blind as well - the blind leading the blind will only lead to a few knocked heads, bruised egos, and Chief Wiggum confiscating our glaucoma medicine.

One thing I am dying to do in my life is to eat Bread Fruit - a Polynesian delight of fruit and food - a staple of diet for 3000 years. To my knowledge, this fruit is being popularized across the world, unaltered, unfabricated, un-stamped from the label of GMO. I'd like to stamp GMO on everything in the world at this point, with the exception of the Bread Fruit, Sunchokes and bacon... mmm... bacon... this little piggy's gotta go off to the store... I hope I find a choice of diving head first into the pool, or feet first - the consequence of these actions could prove to be dire - I have no idea what my genes may do to me if they are radiated with mutation - I sure do hope Professor Xavier was fictitious - there's no way we can hold off that many X-Men.

Faces melting like wax in the heat. People dying like dogs in the street. And love is a word in the sand, that a wave wipes away with her hand, and the ocean just don't understand. So here's hoping we find, some asylum to hold up inside, a place which is not so unkind. Someday, somewhere down the line, a place to be free in our mind, a world which is not so unkind - A Place Not So Unkind, Firewater Lyrics

Scripted

ACT I - Scene IV - Song Birds

I'm looking at a sculpture and wondering why a princess would look so mysterious when holding a singing bird in it's hands... it puzzles me - art is just like politics.  But what the true nature of politics, as I have observed shows me, is that you can mimic the songbird all you want, but as long as you keep whistling the tune that you know so well over and over again, the blissful nature of your ignorance will always shine.   Politics doesn't change, art is forever moving.  

Art can be expressed as an action, as an actor, or the political actor.  One that takes cues and can't and continues on with the press rehersals, concerts and conferences.  The role of an actor is to shine, to be happy, defiant, vigilant and sad - background checks that the act is fulfilled with noble Law and he is virtuous to the right lord.  We've found our mime!  

The Denouement

A Minister is a title only befit to a true man of the Lord.  The role sparks leaders into debate, like the soft spoken but often reflective Dion, while the true title can vault a career into acting or politics.  The smiles and the cameras and the action.  But as Minister, possessing the background of a science, an understanding of the climate, and a knowledge of it's poisons would not be necessary, the lord would not cast down any of these plagues on this watch... we're only here for 4 years and the pension...   As Minister, words of legaleeze and sleeze of pandering to potential solutions are still necessary - but there are many takes in this scene - you don't need to get your act straight right away.  But at some point, if the act is not perfect, the Minister can stir the nature of the cauldron and take thimbles and pinches and dashes of brilliance, waiting for the bubble in the bouillon to boil long enough, just so the recipe can be savoured a little longer.  

Webcast

There was this website back when the internet fad started - Six Degrees of Kevin Bacon.  An interesting experiment in networking and connections.  You would type any actor name, and poof!  Kevin Bacon would be within 6 movie credits of your search - it was truly time killing as any good procrastinator would enjoy.  I do doubt today that website would still be valid - what with 'B-movies', 'Bollywood', 'Indie Films' and 'Searchlight', Kevin's a lost dinosaur with a receding hairline at this point.  Six Degrees of Separation.  Am I truly that far away from a great actor or politician?  

Internet Interference

The web's gone haywire.  Posts, blogs, edits, stories, news, sports, mtv, abc, paris, hilton, search, google, carbon, headlines, lowlines, widgets, wabbits, wascals and wiggle wammles, we all soak it in.  We don't mean to, but to have information at our fingertips is leading the web wevolution.  There was the dotcom boom of the 2000's, however as we approach the next decade, the web continues to grow, and be the reliable source of media.  Too bad all booms didn't blast off like this balloon... the bubble was just a blip in the radar, the bump in the road, the basic principles of supply and demand restored.  

The supply that is not longer in demand that the great true north faces is at the forefront of the pages on the web.  Actors reaching out to compatriotic brethren to see their leadership.   The script constantly changes, and improvisation is not a lost art on these well groomed greeters - but the headlines - just imagine front page news for the opening act!  Smile, brush your teeth and comb your hair - mom's instill the best advice.