Conventional wisdom is deeply rooted in falsehoods
In the land of the blind, the removal of eyes restores normality. H.G. Wells saw through that proverbial “one-eyed man is king” business in his short story “The Country of the Blind.”
Warning: This article may offend non-vegan sensibilities. We suggest you click the back-arrow now. Yours truly, The Green Italicizers.
Meat is the stuff of conventional wisdom, it’s something ingested multiple times a day — from womb to tomb. Consumers’ personal worth is measured in direct relation to the amount they consume. Animal flesh, cookies and stolen from a calf milk, factory-farm-fresh eggs — just another addiction.
The process begins at conception and ends at death. Addicted babies suffer painful withdrawal when denied the substances that feed meat-molecule craving. Meat-addicted doctors remind their pregnant patients to stop smoking, avoid secondhand smoke, maintain a healthy diet, remember that you are eating for two during pregnancy.
Meat, milk and ova — there’s the ticket. Here’s a barker for you:
“Get your calcium, get your protein, get your strength from ova, milk and meat. Amusement park and state fair visitors delight in the craven horror of fair food and freak shows. It’s a family lifestyle for family folks, folks.”
No. It’s a diet recognized as essential by the medical community, your friends and relations, bright advertisements in waiting-room magazines, 24/7 on TV — you are hungry, you are very very hungry, go to the refrigerator and pantry. Our product is not there? Go to the supermarket for a food desert dessert.
Trillions of dollars and billions of jobs depend upon maintaining “the way it’s always been.” Meat, dairy, egg — do they appear on the Nutrition Facts label? Yes, along long walls, along long aisles. Human nature is natural, Bill.
Omnibus Food Bills subsidize junk food. Subsidies divert money from healthy fare to junk-ridden fast food. Those subsidies keep crappy edibles affordable for those at the bottom of the food-industrial-complex food chain, any way you slice it. Slice it thin. Pile it high. Double cheese, please.
Consumers of vegan products bring less to the GNP. Meaty fare makes for tons of profits and meaty bottom lines. Each consumer devotes a lifetime of service to those death industries. Wealth-management partners measure future income by the units successfully brought to slaughter. We get away with it, Mr. Bill. We get away with it.
70 billion units per annum (a mix of quadrupeds, bipeds and swimmers in schools) processed from fur to marrow to roe.
Meat is what makes a holiday memorable. It’s what’s for dinner. If it’s been done for thousands of years it must be a grand truth and a holy sacrament. Believe!
Pass the butchering art down over many centuries until it’s accepted as societal norm and cultural treasure. Think dominion over animals, being created as a model of deity. We’re number one. USAUSAUSA (fine sausages).
Learning a second or 3rd or 4th language is like escaping the gravity of your native land. You probe about in another way of being, of thinking, of observing. Better still — if you’ve the inclination — learn another tongue via a second or third language. Meet the stranger in a place foreign to each.
I am so grateful for my Palestinian student who decided to learn German via English, without recourse to his native Arabic. He inspired me to do the same — learn Arabic by way of German. “arabisch lernen”
German from the baby steps to fluency. The magic of YouTube brings me teachers who speak their mother’s Arabic in a German-speaking land. I studied in Germany for a year and a half. The other international students joined me to prepare for lessons conducted in German. Japanese medical students already knew anatomical terms, because their forefathers carried it back to Japan — including decades as fellow Axis members. Gray’s Anatomy with German body parts
Some lessons I’ve learned
Iranian students taught me about Savak and their Shah many years before the Revolution of 1979. Krupp established large industrial site in that Persian land. An industrial giant since the 16th Century. A family tradition, Blut und Eisen.
Propaganda relies upon endlessly repeated mistranslations, designed to obfuscate. Weaponized language to serve hidden agendas, to move geopolitical stakes through sabotage, bigotry, racism, straw men, false flags, pacification, liquidation; in other words, chicanery of any convenient kind. Whatever works. No questions asked.
Walls visible and invisible. Sow the seeds of discontent to ignite anger. Divide and conquer. British imperialists deliberately provoked Sunni and Shia rivalries by locating them within an arbitrary borderline. Think of it as double solitary confinement. A technique that works wonders: encourage each to fight the other over differences deep as the empire gathers spoils of conquest, to the victor go the value subtracted.
History remembered is myth created by the most talented liars. Every American recites the same short soundbites: flag-shaded collective memories. Memorized lies to mask disquieting truth. 1,000 memorized lies. Cherrypick and pass on. Manufacture your destiny as something somehow manifest by a deity for your outrageous fortune. Cloying spoilings.
Conduct experiments on war fodder soldiers and increase your “intelligence.” Handbooks written by Chinese military master torturers were translated verbatim and reapplied in Guantanamo — word by evil word.
Accuse Cuba of human rights violations while torturing prisoners on Cuban soil. Announce bounties — turn in someone you hate, an enemy or a randomly selected person, a stranger. Get paid for lying about an innocent neighbor. Extraordinary rendition is spuriously twisted language designed by twisted authority to mask torture by proxy. Look the other way. Justify everything. Celebrate the patriotic art of bigly deals. Endless war for endless profit. Drop MOABS and cut a purchase order for replacement MOABS.
This morning I read a piece from Mark Chmiel’s blog — Mistake. Dark serendipity in the same tone and key. Thank you, Mark.
Public Service Announcement: Guest blogger Lisa provides a friendly warning on a film released last year (2016). I haven’t watched the movie myself, but I suspect it might be a sleeper. Just suspecting you understand. Ahem. Should you decide not to watch this 2.9 rated cinematic wonder, save the 83 minutes you will have saved for some alternative spare-time fare — such as listening to the earlier seasons of Vic and Sade,
my personal favorite among a great many old-time radio programs 🙂
Und so, the inimitable Lisa Chieco is our guest blogger today, she is sharing her personal opinions of a middle-o’-the-night film selection right here and right now. I turn the keyboard over to Lisa.
Bad, bad, bad movie. It was 83 minutes and still had nothing cohesive to say! We begin in 1952 with a scene of a scientist boarding a train with his friend’s journal of work having been passed as a “terrible burden” to be kept for him after death.
Then we’re aboard this ridiculous space ship (only FOUR people on it and we see only three – hearing of the deaths of another – and seeing the hand of the woman’s death we are aware of which implicates the ships talking computer (not Hal, but Meryl) who seems more like a jealous, petulant and homicidally insane woman who is later reflected in a “colonist” on this penal station on an asteroid that is somehow slipped the memory of all Earth.
So, everybody dies – a couple of times. We get insanely subtle images that suggest we either have the Earth being destroyed by aliens for our dangerous weapons and the threat they impose to other worlds alongside the depiction of our visitation from said aliens around pyramid building times noted by the narration as a huge boon to humanity bringing us into the age of “technology.” Okay, but then, the same alien technology that lifted us out of our pathetic inadequacies is being used to kill all human life on Earth because we are a threat to those worlds with our scary weaponization, even though they use the same objet de space to kill all human life, while also sparing the planet proper. Yeah.
The entire movie is spent listening to one poor sod trying to trick Meryl (computer controller) into allowing him to disable her so they can return home. She kills him too. The skipper is spending most of his time in his virtual reality sleeper (Somnus??) where he sits on a pebbled beach and sees his dead wife walk towards him. Beside vague references to having taken part in a war he is amazed we survived without “blowing ourselves up” is tossed to us in a scanty early conversation with the ensign. This skipper really gives no consideration to anything happening until only he and the young ensign are left. Meryl has taken them away from home to this asteroid for which we have absolutely neither build up nor explanation before docking.
Well, after they are taken to this asteroid and the ensign is denied access, the skipper walks through this forest, fondling the leaves and droplets of water and suddenly AT ONCE we see a woman making squishy noises out of our view. He is hailed as being expected by this crazy woman with wild eyes who it appears is beating a man in the side, showing her very bad teeth while feeding bits of this man to a little ferocious alien reptile with big chompers – then the awakening of the man who Bad Teeth dispatches via a rock to the skull (including pinking brain matter) all witnessed by the skipper, whose quixotic response is to reassure her he is no threat and that everything is OK. WHAT??
So, somehow, that ends – and we see the only other living guy (our ensign who expressed in that one dialogue in the beginning of the movie that he is 20 and wants to fast track to deep space missions) leaving the ship and running around this forest habitat (that is also penal colony BTW) and then he is chased by something we never see. We see him waking up in a room strapped to a machine with some oil can type robot taking orders from a man with crap smeared all over his face and head. This man is clutching the notes from the book the guy back in 1952 had on the train and decides this guy in his chair is not in the book (now apparently a prophesy) so he must die. Then the robot begins to pump something blue into him and he dies. But not YET! He jumps up fighting into an immediate shift to the skipper, arm around this guy as they try to run up the hill and back to their ship (or wherever) and of course then this guy dies for good. Oh yeah – all this time the computer consciousness on the ship is really trying to bring together the remnants of humanity to restock the purged Earth.
So, Skipper sets off the reactor on board saying, “You can’t cheat destiny.” As if this is something we have known would happen since the earliest visitation. This is all going on in OUR heads – the movie is so poorly related it takes someone with my long winded and very convoluted intellect to thresh out the intended plot – I think. So, Skipper and ship blow up – and we are shown images of the skipper’s head in his EVA and his eyes are black hollows… then we see him in the core of the ship reaching down into water to rip the dead head off the “control” of the ship and the reactor again flashes but by this time the skipper has made it back to his little virtual (SOMNUS) bed and is back on the shore. Only this time he is washing up in his EVA and pulls his helmet off.
Then, his wife walks up to the shore and looks down. She picks up a rusted old EVA head piece. Then it’s over. Is that as infuriating to anyone else as it was to me? I know it says I’m disgusted but I’m really laughing at it as well. So, don’t waste your time and if you wanted to watch it maybe you won’t be angry for the spoilers because I had to look up lots of discussion on it (okay two) to make my own synopsis with review. There are still the images of jellyfish which I refuse to dignify with pondering.
N.B. I have not yet inserted a translation plug-in.
Why not, Bill?
I don’t want to crash this blog by pasting html code improperly.
Kommen wir gleich zur Sache — die Wikinger emigrierten von Sachsen nach England im Jahre 793, und sie hatten mit den eroberten Frauen und den zukünftigen Kindern sprechen wollen. Hör mal zu: die Wikinger konnten die ungeheueren komplizierten Endungen jedes Dingworts überhaupt nicht verstehen. Die Eroberer hatten eine Lösung schnell gefunden: zum Teufel mit den verdammten Endungen.
This is a thinly veiled attack upon the official language of the free world. What be your purpose here?
Wenn Sie English lesen können, schauen Sie den folgenden Link an:
Interessanterweise fing die große Vokalverschiebung zur etwa gleichen Zeit an. So viel wurden dabei geändert, aber so passieren die alternativen Geschichten.
Stellen Sie mal vor: “als ob” habe ich in einem Glossar der literarischen Ausdrücken gefunden, zwar als eine Übersetzung des Konzepts von Samuel Colleridge:
the willing suspension of disbelief
5 Buchstaben auf Deutsch gegen 31 auf Englisch. Finde ich den Unterschied super. Eine Sprache zu lernen ist ein Abenteuer anzufangen, meiner Meinung nach.
Gern behaupte ich, dass man einen deutschen Text schneller als einen englischen Text lesen kann. Einfach erkläre ich den Urgrund dieser Behauptung — Schon beim ersten Wort erkennen wir die Funktion des ersten Wortes, z.B. “dem” muss unbedingt das indirekte Object signalisieren. Also, entweder Maskulin oder Neutrum, oder?
Quod erat demonstrandum.
So wurde “the” erfunden. Wortstellung muss jede Funktion, bzw. jeden Kasus erklären. Konnten Herr Wiking mit der Familie anreden.
Ich hoffe, dass die Leser dieses Dingsbums mein Thema genossen haben.
It’s a good day to weigh value systems and lifestyles.
Sounds judgmental, Bill. A waste of time and a waste of electrons. You know very well thatwe’re too busy and far too important to read your screed, yet you insist on inviting us to your frugal table. Why do that?
I don’t know.
Freneticism. An active lifestyle, branded on gross national consumption — consumers playing a complacent role toward a dismal goal.
Michael Ende’s classic novel Momo explains it well. Ende knows his Zeitdieben (time thieves) — those functionaries who siphon the productivity of persons more innocent, more gentle. Quite a fine book, if you have the time.
Do con artists ever have a hidden agenda? Just an idle question.
May we remind you, Bill, there is more money in beef than in beets. Jobs from sea to befouled sea, that’s what we’re talking about. Filling waste-management positions, artery pharmaceutical rep salaries, butcheries and slaughterers, belly futurists, hide sellers, Boeuf Taco artisans.
Meatism: a lifestyle based on flesh and blood, unfertilized eggs, calf milk, buttered bacon, Snausages® all nicely appointed on a dinner plate. Marketers know their play-books, how to drone a message into your psyche, how to grant you the illusion of independent thought — you are the one doing the thinking. Something to manufacture a lasting crave, powerful enough to drive you from refrigerator and pantry to the supermarket and back. Where are the car keys? The 12-hour Energy Boosters®?
Consume, c o n s u m e, C O N S U M E, c o n s u m e, consume.
The lab gals and guys have skills honed to fashion biochemical ions that stimulate taste receptors and simulate well-being. Palm oil fuels a munch crave. Be they chips or be they crisps — an open bag is an empty bag. Palm oil substitutes for hydrogenated oil, but threatens rainforests.
You’re a do-gooder and a poison-ivy hugger, Bill. Let us buy you an ivy salad. Our treat.
Buy another bag. And aren’t you clever now — buy a bigger bag or two, or five. Buy ten bags and save ten dollars. The more you buy, the more you save.
Wow. Where are the car keys? The 12-hour Energy®?
A dinner plate is a wasteland, absent a meat entree to grace it, my friend. We did not evolve to nibble bunny salads and sip miso soup. Let us tell you about tired emaciated vegans. God made animals for us to domesticate and to eat. F-ing cows were not created in God’s image. We are not Bottom-headed — and we’re not bottom feeders.
Warning. This post is rated VV — violently vegan. Not suitable for…?
We’re getting weary of your salad-eating-vegan fare , Bill. Let’s make something clear. Veganism is a form of terrorism, do you know what that makes you?
Do vegans threaten world order? Yes. World order implies the preservation of disorder — something Mayor Richard Daley uttered in 1968 with a memorable tongue slip:
“The police are not here to create disorder, they’re here to preserve disorder.”
Seventy billion kills per year implies disorder, in my mind at least. More on this in a minute.
Time for a few statistics. There are three times as many homo sapiens alive today as there were in 1947, when I personally joined the fray. What about fellow sentient creatures in factory friendly slaughter houses? Well, they suffer short brutal lives, but let’s call it inventory turnover. Why? Because one specie values them for their flesh, fur and hide. Consumers love everything about them. A snapshot census for your statistical curiosity: seven billion of one specie consume seventy billion fellow sentient creatures, annually
We like fine Corinthian leather and we like the smell of bacon in the morning, jellied gasoline, while we’re at it (ha ha. We made a funny). Love it or leave it, my friend. Get with the program before we body-slam you.
“Smart leather fashions are arriving just in time for your busy Summer.”
Who gives the thumbs up or thumbs down? Private and personal shoppers in the marketplace do, aisle by aisle by aisle: does the nutrition label of that item you’re tossing into the shopping cart contain body parts or body-part byproducts? When the barcode is read a replenishment order automatically issues. Death by scan.
Celebrate your heritage by firing up the barbie and wearing a meaty heritage on your apron (the one with the funny soundbites).
Holidays here march on. They mark successive memories of war or metaphors for war. Remember Hamburger Hill while enjoying ground-bovines. Equate patriotic soundbites with a craving for cheeseburgers while you sit on a hill with buns around sizzling bovines and tubed slaughter of befouled fowl, cow and cowering pig. Call it a hot dog memory.
If you like the seventy million so much, why don’t you join them. I hear they’re hiring in Meatland, Misery, if you’re man enough. Capiche?