"In essence, you, a common revolutionary, bandit, populist, charlatan, whatever, obviously a fellow of great reckoning, and judging by the size of your own entourage a significant reputation amongst low lifers, will now be seen in history as the commoner who conquered Caesar."
"One day, sir, history will know of your magnanimity."
"Magnanimity," Caesar said, a faraway look in his eyes. He chuckled.
"Caesar," Jesus said. Caesar turned to meet his gaze. "Where is the power of morality?"
"It died with the first pieces of evidence that God, your Father, is imperfect."
"Am I his Son?"
"However it came to be, Jesus," Caesar said, turning to walk away into history, "However it came to be."
Wednesday, February 28, 2007
Jesus Meets Caesar
"Kind sir," the old man said, "I shall reward you with my blessings if you would direct me towards the ... Kingdom of God..."
"What did you say?" Jesus turned around and pulled his sword out. Peter followed suit, breathing heavily, looking at Jesus intermittently as if to wonder how long this old geezer should remain alive.
"Put away your sword," Caesar said to Peter, "I come in peace."
Jesus nodded. Peter put his sword away. There was a glimmer in the old man's eyes. "I trust that you have never met one like me...?" he said quietly. Jesus said nothing. Peter began to fidget with his sword. "Master, we should kill him. I do not like the looks of this." Jesus seemed unsure. "Peter, go get the others. Quickly!" Peter departed.
Caesar smiled at Jesus. "And now, who will help you? Now, it is just two of us, who will release you from history? For in my hand is the power to confine you to nothingness, to bring you to disrepute, give you the fate of a common thief."
"You wouldn't do it otherwise honor would mean nothing amongst men..."
"You speak of honor," Caesar said, intrigued, "and yet you move with harlots?"
"Not all have had your good fortune, Your Majesty..."
Caesar paused. "Your good manners speak well of you, son. Where does your father hail from?"
"Judea, sir."
"It is there I am going. Do you wish a ride with my entourage?"
"If it pleases the gods of Rome."
"She is a harlot too. Follow me."
"My men..."
"Will be taken care of..."
Caesar and Jesus depart as Peter returns with one of the others.
"What did you say?" Jesus turned around and pulled his sword out. Peter followed suit, breathing heavily, looking at Jesus intermittently as if to wonder how long this old geezer should remain alive.
"Put away your sword," Caesar said to Peter, "I come in peace."
Jesus nodded. Peter put his sword away. There was a glimmer in the old man's eyes. "I trust that you have never met one like me...?" he said quietly. Jesus said nothing. Peter began to fidget with his sword. "Master, we should kill him. I do not like the looks of this." Jesus seemed unsure. "Peter, go get the others. Quickly!" Peter departed.
Caesar smiled at Jesus. "And now, who will help you? Now, it is just two of us, who will release you from history? For in my hand is the power to confine you to nothingness, to bring you to disrepute, give you the fate of a common thief."
"You wouldn't do it otherwise honor would mean nothing amongst men..."
"You speak of honor," Caesar said, intrigued, "and yet you move with harlots?"
"Not all have had your good fortune, Your Majesty..."
Caesar paused. "Your good manners speak well of you, son. Where does your father hail from?"
"Judea, sir."
"It is there I am going. Do you wish a ride with my entourage?"
"If it pleases the gods of Rome."
"She is a harlot too. Follow me."
"My men..."
"Will be taken care of..."
Caesar and Jesus depart as Peter returns with one of the others.
A Rare Moment of Humor with The Master
Jesus smiled quietly as Paul relayed the tale over and over again, pointing at Jesus for emphasis. Today the sun was shining on him, Jesus, but for the first time in a long time HE knew the sun WAS shining on him. God was speaking again.
For he was, undoubtably...
...a knower of things...or, as he himself admitted in an interview...
"a Master of Israel."
"a Master of Israel."
To them that believed...
Jesus leaned over and said to Paul. "Don't ask questions. Just walk with me."
"Jesus!" Paul whispered, out of breath, "You aint' gouwn belie dis shit..."
"Jesus!" Paul whispered, out of breath, "You aint' gouwn belie dis shit..."
How I feel?
Grateful. Why? I've assessed the difficulty of the most important task in Destiny and it is of reasonable complexity.
Productivity Update
I am at the very begining of the flowchart which is the representation of the core algorithm of the foundational software elements of Trillion Consulting.
About Gaga Ekeh
In 1999 certain people considered me a "genius" and invested, subsequently, in me. I suppose that I am indebted to them for allowing me the complete freedom to do my art, whatever the implications to the power structure which has favored the largese which inspires the beneficiaries of the foundations for peace endowed on behalf of the psychotic yet dangerously humorous. It is just... :-)
Trillion Consulting is Born
Statement of Purpose: To facilitate communications at the cost of value.
Pharaoh
I, Pharaoh, wield truth and its complexity. Deny it and you shall cease to be meaningful to that which you desire most. Embrace it, with caution and prescience, and learn what it means to be free...
The "Hosts"
Tropical winds found solace in the middle of the forest. There, unannounced, a whilrwind targeted Washington DC. She was a tempest named Makeda. She was surrouned by an army of minds so brilliant lore is no longer a contest to detail what in reality is now the glory of the mind of God. Bow.
The "Young Kid"
I am scale. Often seen leading the old blind man, I am his functional eyes and ears. I am an old Ishmaelite tradition. My name is Omode. I am a child of the spirits, orphaned by Destiny (However it came to be) I met my father, the old blind man, with whom I have had the eternal dialog. I am the Son.
The "Young Kid"
I am scale. Often seen leading the old blind man, I am his functional eyes and ears. I am an old Ishmaelite tradition. My name is Omode. I am a child of the spirits, orphaned by Destiny (However it came to be) I met my father, the old blind man, with whom I have had the eternal dialog. I am the Son.
The "Old Blind Man"
I worked in the Secret Service of the Kingdom of Israel during the Reign of King David of Judah. My name is Arch-Angel Oduduwa, aka Black Eagle. My story is history, but it also details the imagination of those who understand why in the depth of Numbers is the commonality that we sense. It is why we know Red is the nature of Red so has the distinct quality that allows us to give it form. This, friend is existential space.
My Final Thesis
We all have a role. White folx, the burden of morality. Brown folx the burden of pragmatism. Latinas the burden of Identity and knowledge. Etc. However, when it came to what role black people played it became apparent that despite every other role in the universe, the only people who knew why people behaved crazy were three black men. I present to you, "the Three Babas."
It was a Quiet Day in Bethlehem (As quiet days in Bethlehem go)
The old man was returning from the east again. They say he had a tragedy this trip. One of his fawns had been eaten by a wild and hungried man whom no one had the heart to chastise. Yet, Minister Adekunle loved his livestock more than his children. It was something about the Ethiopians, the secrets they hid, that resulted in their strange but charming nature.
"If you would please, the wine..."
I passed it to him. "Sir..."
"Thenk you." I heard it. The final inflection. HE had succumbed to Greece. Now
he would be branded a homosexual and never be allowed burial in Ethiopia, the land
of his Fathers, again.
"What is your name sir?" I asked him urgently.
"This is a breach of protocol" he said derisively. But he must have sensed my
urgency. "Theophilus." He spelled it. I nodded. We shook hands. Then he shook
his head and smiled at me. "It's not such a bad gig, you now..." he said. "My people are a bit looney."
"If you would please, the wine..."
I passed it to him. "Sir..."
"Thenk you." I heard it. The final inflection. HE had succumbed to Greece. Now
he would be branded a homosexual and never be allowed burial in Ethiopia, the land
of his Fathers, again.
"What is your name sir?" I asked him urgently.
"This is a breach of protocol" he said derisively. But he must have sensed my
urgency. "Theophilus." He spelled it. I nodded. We shook hands. Then he shook
his head and smiled at me. "It's not such a bad gig, you now..." he said. "My people are a bit looney."
Now, what was this about Jesus?
"Why is Jesus the chosen one to rule the psyche of over one billion people?"
"It is the nature of destiny. Jesus was destined to be great. But his time has
come... WE celebrate, today, the Majesty of Jesus, the one we called "the Nazarene!"
"It is the nature of destiny. Jesus was destined to be great. But his time has
come... WE celebrate, today, the Majesty of Jesus, the one we called "the Nazarene!"
But why not Condi?
Forget that it very well could be her destiny, she'd make a swell president? Better, even than John McCain. A man who has stayed at the Hilton needs no rest in the White House. Why do some men strive to be president? There are more appealing roles in the Kingdom of God. Some say it has to say with their core beliefs which, relative to mine, Gaga Ekeh, have some value. Although this gossip has reached the ears of God few do-gooders know that evil doers do what is necessary for good to triumph over evil when relevance matters. It is justice.
How, history, HOWEVER, was made...
It mattered not, said the spirit of God to his wife, the crowd continued to chant:
"Condi! Condi! Condi!"
"Condi! Condi! Condi!"
What man has come to believe about the Bible.
Intelligent men involved in politics understand, quite clearly, what the ancients meant when they said that the lesser light rules the night. In an age of relevance in metaphor, if Mr. Bomolomo is asking for my support, he shall have it. Otherwise, Hillary it remains.
"Lights!"
It was good. The audience cooed. They both so looked like the Messiah. No one wanted to waste the one and only judgment stone...
The Thorny Issue of Barabas
"Master..."
"Yes, Judas?"
"Things are a go..."
"Yes, Judas? Can I help you with something?"
"Master..."
"Yes... Judas..."
"Do you... ever think of yourself in history?"
"No, Judas, I have never once thought of myself in history... SILENCE!...
...
..
"Who goes there?"
"Barabas..."
"Shit!"...
"Yes, Judas?"
"Things are a go..."
"Yes, Judas? Can I help you with something?"
"Master..."
"Yes... Judas..."
"Do you... ever think of yourself in history?"
"No, Judas, I have never once thought of myself in history... SILENCE!...
...
..
"Who goes there?"
"Barabas..."
"Shit!"...
Fictional Conflict
When I was in New Jersey, I began working on an extended piece of prose drama
(conflicts betweeen the shades of gray in meaning) called Black Eagle Rising, dedicated, I suppose, to the CIA agent who decrypted the CIA's secret crypt. Now, however, this Jesus story is tickling me... I tink war is upon us...
(conflicts betweeen the shades of gray in meaning) called Black Eagle Rising, dedicated, I suppose, to the CIA agent who decrypted the CIA's secret crypt. Now, however, this Jesus story is tickling me... I tink war is upon us...
Subtle Yorubisms
Abe Igi = Beneath the stick
Abe Okuta = Beneath the stone
Aburo ~= Abe Uro = Younger brother, but in light of the other abe signals
might signify "smaller in relevance".
How about kuro lona, as if to say get off the road but meaning "kill thought upon
the road".
I suggest Aburo means Abe-Urhobo... :-)
Abe Okuta = Beneath the stone
Aburo ~= Abe Uro = Younger brother, but in light of the other abe signals
might signify "smaller in relevance".
How about kuro lona, as if to say get off the road but meaning "kill thought upon
the road".
I suggest Aburo means Abe-Urhobo... :-)
Summary of the Bible for Me
Relativity. When two people of vastly different IQs occupy the same space in time, time actually physically differentiates. Take for instance, the now well-worn story at the Academy of the day Albert Einstein was lazing in the sun when, from nowhere, appeared a slothful dirty fellow with a knife singing the incipient version of "ah go kill a man." As you and I know, after the thousandth cry of "encore! encore!" by Einstein, he sauntered, lazily, to Hungary for lunch with the lady he was having an affair with, then merilly launched into an oral reappraisal of his latest paper on relativity, and the fellow with the knife had not moved one inch. It is the only way to encapsulate the IQ of a man such as Daniel and compare it with the deceit of Pat Robertson.
Why Yolanda?
She should know better. She'd be more useful to God making secular music and not that crap that lacks any sort of spiritual credibility. Get it. I love her to death, too...
The Kingdom of Heaven
I, Gaga Ekeh, searched and found that there is no principality in the psyche of
man bigger. This Kingdom, Heaven, is a bottomless pit of sorrow and despair, where
fire burns bad people eternally with so much woe that if only they had listened to sister Yolanda's rabbid bawls they would have missed out on such a terrible fate. Ah, woe unto the wicked. This is the Principality of Heaven. This version is for the talentless. We call them Negative Polarity Items.
man bigger. This Kingdom, Heaven, is a bottomless pit of sorrow and despair, where
fire burns bad people eternally with so much woe that if only they had listened to sister Yolanda's rabbid bawls they would have missed out on such a terrible fate. Ah, woe unto the wicked. This is the Principality of Heaven. This version is for the talentless. We call them Negative Polarity Items.
The Crown Queen of the Principality of Sheba
The announcer continued, "so Jesus used to kiss Mary Magdalene on the... we are not sure... but there is information here to be garnered..."
...
Let him kiss me with the kisses of his mouth: for thy love is better than wine.
...
But what of Gold and Frankincense?
...
I am black, but comely, O ye daughters of Jerusalem, as the tents of Kedar, as the curtains of Solomon.
6: Look not upon me, because I am black, because the sun hath looked upon me: my mother's children were angry with me; they made me the keeper of the vineyards; but mine own vineyard have I not kept.
7: Tell me, O thou whom my soul loveth, where thou feedest, where thou makest thy flock to rest at noon: for why should I be as one that turneth aside by the flocks of thy companions?
8: If thou know not, O thou fairest among women, go thy way forth by the footsteps of the flock, and feed thy kids beside the shepherds' tents.
9: I have compared thee, O my love, to a company of horses in Pharaoh's chariots.
10: Thy cheeks are comely with rows of jewels, thy neck with chains of gold.
11: We will make thee borders of gold with studs of silver.
12: While the king sitteth at his table, my spikenard sendeth forth the smell thereof.
13: A bundle of myrrh is my wellbeloved unto me; he shall lie all night betwixt my breasts
...
But... the Nubians claim that Solomon married Pharaoh's daughter... yes? Not
his mother Jocasta the Bath of Sheba? You see... what I want to understand is why
Pharaoh's daughter, obviously Nubian, depending on accepted roles, compared with "a company of horses in Pharaoh's
Chariots" whose cheeks were "comely with rows of jewels," neck "with chains of gold"
is conflated with the "dark" woman whom King David had relations with while her
husband was fighting for Jehovah's reputation, meaningfulness and dignity. I call
Jehovah to Witness this Stand.
...
Let him kiss me with the kisses of his mouth: for thy love is better than wine.
...
But what of Gold and Frankincense?
...
I am black, but comely, O ye daughters of Jerusalem, as the tents of Kedar, as the curtains of Solomon.
6: Look not upon me, because I am black, because the sun hath looked upon me: my mother's children were angry with me; they made me the keeper of the vineyards; but mine own vineyard have I not kept.
7: Tell me, O thou whom my soul loveth, where thou feedest, where thou makest thy flock to rest at noon: for why should I be as one that turneth aside by the flocks of thy companions?
8: If thou know not, O thou fairest among women, go thy way forth by the footsteps of the flock, and feed thy kids beside the shepherds' tents.
9: I have compared thee, O my love, to a company of horses in Pharaoh's chariots.
10: Thy cheeks are comely with rows of jewels, thy neck with chains of gold.
11: We will make thee borders of gold with studs of silver.
12: While the king sitteth at his table, my spikenard sendeth forth the smell thereof.
13: A bundle of myrrh is my wellbeloved unto me; he shall lie all night betwixt my breasts
...
But... the Nubians claim that Solomon married Pharaoh's daughter... yes? Not
his mother Jocasta the Bath of Sheba? You see... what I want to understand is why
Pharaoh's daughter, obviously Nubian, depending on accepted roles, compared with "a company of horses in Pharaoh's
Chariots" whose cheeks were "comely with rows of jewels," neck "with chains of gold"
is conflated with the "dark" woman whom King David had relations with while her
husband was fighting for Jehovah's reputation, meaningfulness and dignity. I call
Jehovah to Witness this Stand.
Caiaphas: Principalities and Powers
"I am aware of your reservations," Caiaphas immediately said to Paul, staring intently into his eyes.
"Caiaphas let him be," it was Anneas, "we have much more important business to attend to."
"The work of our Lord is never done," Caiaphas mumbled, then grudgingly left Paul be. Paul relaxed. These, he surmised, were the High Priests of Israel. He decided it was an opportune moment to reaffirm his obvious commitment to upper middle class morality as being in the best interest of the Jewish State.
"Sirs," he cleared his throat, "I am honored.."
"You," it was Jesus. Paul's heart skipped a beat. "You, don't just stand there, grab this for me." Paul grabbed the end of the rod and helped Jesus carry it
to the other end of the Temple. Jesus sat down and panted. "That's a workout for your ass. You're new?"
"Em... I'm not quite sure..."
"Jesus. Jesus, the Nazarene..."
"Yes, I've heard about you, I'm Solon St. Paul..."
"Another Solon. You mugz just run shit no?"
Paul said nothing. He had lost command of his senses.
"Caiaphas let him be," it was Anneas, "we have much more important business to attend to."
"The work of our Lord is never done," Caiaphas mumbled, then grudgingly left Paul be. Paul relaxed. These, he surmised, were the High Priests of Israel. He decided it was an opportune moment to reaffirm his obvious commitment to upper middle class morality as being in the best interest of the Jewish State.
"Sirs," he cleared his throat, "I am honored.."
"You," it was Jesus. Paul's heart skipped a beat. "You, don't just stand there, grab this for me." Paul grabbed the end of the rod and helped Jesus carry it
to the other end of the Temple. Jesus sat down and panted. "That's a workout for your ass. You're new?"
"Em... I'm not quite sure..."
"Jesus. Jesus, the Nazarene..."
"Yes, I've heard about you, I'm Solon St. Paul..."
"Another Solon. You mugz just run shit no?"
Paul said nothing. He had lost command of his senses.
On the Road to Damascus: Jesus' First Picture
"Hail farer. Wherefore thou goeth? I am a merry fellow in charge of much ale and in need of some company. Sojourn with me a while and make good eat."
"Thanks and praises due to our ancestor who blessed us with a common tongue. For in his wisdom are the riches you bear."
"Tell me fellow, the manner of our tongue you speak, it is in a strange way. Do I wonder per chance?"
"Pour me some wine and I shall tell ye a story."
Time elapses.
"It is of a man, they call him Jesus. No such ordinary lad he, this one, noooo. Say, I saw with mine own two eyes, this fella, why he turned wooter into woine!"
"Get the fuck outta here. That didn't happen. You're just yanking mi chain."
"Ah, stranger, but you are too wise for me. But then, think of a thing in this way..."
"I'm listening, I'm listening, oh man of humor. You have met a good spirit tonight. Have some more wine."
"Certainly. Now, what really happened... It was a wedding in Canaan."
Time elapses.
"Well I'll be damned. And you say his name is what now?"
"Jesus. Jesus the Nazarene."
"Jesus. Wow. And you... you, you seem so familiar to me. What is YOUR name?"
"I am Solon. Solon St. John."
"Solon, the grace of Abraham has brought you to me. I am Solon St. Paul, the wealthy merchant blessed for moral deeds. Please journey with me that I might hear more of this Jesus."
"If it is the grace of Abraham."
"It is! It is!"
"Thanks and praises due to our ancestor who blessed us with a common tongue. For in his wisdom are the riches you bear."
"Tell me fellow, the manner of our tongue you speak, it is in a strange way. Do I wonder per chance?"
"Pour me some wine and I shall tell ye a story."
Time elapses.
"It is of a man, they call him Jesus. No such ordinary lad he, this one, noooo. Say, I saw with mine own two eyes, this fella, why he turned wooter into woine!"
"Get the fuck outta here. That didn't happen. You're just yanking mi chain."
"Ah, stranger, but you are too wise for me. But then, think of a thing in this way..."
"I'm listening, I'm listening, oh man of humor. You have met a good spirit tonight. Have some more wine."
"Certainly. Now, what really happened... It was a wedding in Canaan."
Time elapses.
"Well I'll be damned. And you say his name is what now?"
"Jesus. Jesus the Nazarene."
"Jesus. Wow. And you... you, you seem so familiar to me. What is YOUR name?"
"I am Solon. Solon St. John."
"Solon, the grace of Abraham has brought you to me. I am Solon St. Paul, the wealthy merchant blessed for moral deeds. Please journey with me that I might hear more of this Jesus."
"If it is the grace of Abraham."
"It is! It is!"
Jah-Brill, the Brill
It was once decided, finally, after a long time, that mankind requires, from amongst mankind, guardians of mankind. That is to say, mankind cannot manage its own existence without the help of those from within its ranks who "know." We call these men "knowers" of things. Of them, Jah-Brill is the most. Surprisingly shy, intrigued by the awe mortal's have of his unusual beauty, he smiles awkwardly and gives praise to Allah. But all who hear him hear the quiet conspiracy that suggests that whatever beauty created this beauty must be incomprehensible and thus unknowable.
Tuesday, February 27, 2007
Or, more properly put...
A linguistic graph constrains the possibilities of a grammar by relying on data as the singular exemplar of language because of which all communication exists.
She lights up my life...
Graph Theory does cause the secretion, in my brain, of pleasurable fluids...
Managing Recursion
As a veteran of Microsoft's "treeview" I know that managing recursion is hard for even very accomplished developers. Many believe that they can handle the external oversight recursion requires "in real time" in lieu of having the patience to first
appreciate the big picture then timidly being recursive operations.
In our case, there are at least two types of recursive operations. So she will indeed
stay sexy to me after seven years in marriage. Maybe I'm just... jaded...
appreciate the big picture then timidly being recursive operations.
In our case, there are at least two types of recursive operations. So she will indeed
stay sexy to me after seven years in marriage. Maybe I'm just... jaded...
The Al Gore Rhythm
i. Get POS of single leaf
ii. Say to Start Symbol Object, "at penultimate level is this
POS a possibility?"
iii. If Yes, then "Initiate Phraseology"
iv... e.t.c... I shall marry her...
ii. Say to Start Symbol Object, "at penultimate level is this
POS a possibility?"
iii. If Yes, then "Initiate Phraseology"
iv... e.t.c... I shall marry her...
Economically...
I can marry her... Will not be bored with this one for twenty six years if done
in moderation... but I see that she will spawn a new nation of her own, so expect
christian/muslim battles of ideology in three years ...
in moderation... but I see that she will spawn a new nation of her own, so expect
christian/muslim battles of ideology in three years ...
A+ Speech
"...so, in summary..."
The oversight given to supervisors is that a graph object with linear paths in .NET can provide much more information that "phraseology" hence the need for discretion
in ... "composition."
The oversight given to supervisors is that a graph object with linear paths in .NET can provide much more information that "phraseology" hence the need for discretion
in ... "composition."
Graph Paths
For example, S->NP->Det->"The" is one path.
Then S->NP->N->"Dog" is another path.
Now...
The relevant question is how to transform "The Dog" into two linear
structures with "the" and "dog" as leafs. THAT's the intelligence...
:-) I'm getting used to my retirement... but tis still odd...
Then S->NP->N->"Dog" is another path.
Now...
The relevant question is how to transform "The Dog" into two linear
structures with "the" and "dog" as leafs. THAT's the intelligence...
:-) I'm getting used to my retirement... but tis still odd...
Linguistic Grammars and Graph Theory
In Linguistics, a Grammar consists of a Start Symbol, terminal symbols, non-terminal symbols and rules which govern ...now I'm going out on a limb here... how about
"State transition" supposing each non terminal to be a node within a finite state
graph. Now that's complexity and detail for yer ass...
"State transition" supposing each non terminal to be a node within a finite state
graph. Now that's complexity and detail for yer ass...
A-Rab
"That A-Rab nigguh been bus'in dat game since ah wuz twelve," Brother James says to no one in particular. "That whole racket, that whole Jewish Semitic shit been going on right thur, been going on right thur since ah been twelve."
No one disputes, not even the tourist. He, the tourist, he is just fascinated with how it came to be that honesty in the pursuit had brought him here, to see an African-American man by the name of "the A-Rab" who, lore said, had become the reason for American culture.
No one disputes, not even the tourist. He, the tourist, he is just fascinated with how it came to be that honesty in the pursuit had brought him here, to see an African-American man by the name of "the A-Rab" who, lore said, had become the reason for American culture.
Eedriss Mohamed
Idriss Mohamed is a dark and quiet man, the sort who may also be pious. Why he would evoke piousness in the mind is a function of history and the light, gray hairs of his beard. He likes mint and clears his throat from time to time. He loves to smell the minty air of incense done right. No cheap immitations for him, he is a man truly in love with the spice of life.
"Arab" he says, pointing at the man who stands by his side. "Arab" he says again. The man who stands by his side is a sight to behold. Six foot six, if an inch, and dark as the midnight sky. His gray hairs are white, but his eyes are bottomless, seen through the pitch dark blackness of a pair of bottle-sized, diamond shaped glasses. He wears a robe and a hood. His name is Solon.
"The order of all things" he says nodding quietly. You have to get it, for he wields a gun. Idriss, his Master, wields only a ceremonial sword.
"Arab," Idriss smiles as you appreciate the quality of the threat, "he is my son."
"Arab" he says, pointing at the man who stands by his side. "Arab" he says again. The man who stands by his side is a sight to behold. Six foot six, if an inch, and dark as the midnight sky. His gray hairs are white, but his eyes are bottomless, seen through the pitch dark blackness of a pair of bottle-sized, diamond shaped glasses. He wears a robe and a hood. His name is Solon.
"The order of all things" he says nodding quietly. You have to get it, for he wields a gun. Idriss, his Master, wields only a ceremonial sword.
"Arab," Idriss smiles as you appreciate the quality of the threat, "he is my son."
Sheikh Abdel Kareem
"If you agree that puppets can live fulfilling lives, then your stay in Gogobiri will be pleasant, for a man of your intelligence and... tastes..."
It wasn't a bribe. But I had heard tales of shoddy treatment, bathrooms without flushing ability at the most inopportune time, these sorts of things. So, I acquiesced. Sold my soul to compromise, if only that I would get to document and witness what none other had ever seen, but so often heard of in the deepest recesses of the psyche, the King of the Kings of Gogobiri, a man we call Jah-E-Gah-Brill, the Brill.
It wasn't a bribe. But I had heard tales of shoddy treatment, bathrooms without flushing ability at the most inopportune time, these sorts of things. So, I acquiesced. Sold my soul to compromise, if only that I would get to document and witness what none other had ever seen, but so often heard of in the deepest recesses of the psyche, the King of the Kings of Gogobiri, a man we call Jah-E-Gah-Brill, the Brill.
Semantic Linking Declassified
..Semantic linking INVOLVES the subtle gazes between holy men at MIT and some universities in Buffalo, who NOW understand what Language has been REFERRING to all along...
According to my sources...
...I've hit the "in more ways than one" jackpot, in more ways than one...
Chance v. Fate
It depends on what day it is. On a day such as today, when this morning I needed to discover the entirety of the solution to a problem of such complexity it befuddled my professors in Grad School (not understanding it, in their case, but explaining it), Fate it is. The good thing is that when one meets Fate with a clean heart one may endure her jokes. She is a thing of beauty on a day like this. "Quite simply," she said, mocking the Queen, "parse the sentence into its constituent... components... then determine its composition." A stroke of genius, Fate. On a day like this.
Monday, February 26, 2007
A Higher Voice...
I guarantee you, Vatican, that this morning God has removed his spirit from your monuments. You are a sham, a fraud, and are not worth the intentions of pure moral spirits. And all those who hold you up, as prophesied by John, will one day meet their Judgment. Guaranteed.
After the Verdict
It's relieving. For one thing I will NOT be caught dead on earth attempting to make any changes so long as the stupidity of the middle and upper middle classes contines to make compromise triumph over precision in morality. What now? Music. Women. Wine. Pleasure. Contemplation. Imagination. The Kingdom of God. All things good in moderation. For me at least. I'm no longer involved in this world. I detest it's people, especially those who allow evil to triumph because they are too spineless to do what must be done when evil rears its ugly head--fight. I have seen it too many times and I am now sure, the earth is the Lords and the fullness thereof. I sanction earth to 2000 more years of its own shit.
Signed, Pharaoh Amkah-Diri
(Am I psychotic or what? I may reverse the execution of judgment under certain circumstances, but right now it's very relaxing not having to worry about the deceit and stupidity of three billion of the world's most potentially effective bearers of light and culture).
Signed, Pharaoh Amkah-Diri
(Am I psychotic or what? I may reverse the execution of judgment under certain circumstances, but right now it's very relaxing not having to worry about the deceit and stupidity of three billion of the world's most potentially effective bearers of light and culture).
What I think about You
Should I respect a pope under whose watch nine-year old boys get raped by fifty-five year old priests of the order. I think not. Should I respect the congregation that stands by as it occurs, whining like bitches? I think not. I spoke with a ghost known as Abe Lincoln. Sez he, in his time they'd have strung up that old man and shot him in his skirt. Get it... you'z all are functionally immoral bitches because you did nothing when Jesus' little kids' were being prevaricated by men who then are protected by the church. Listen, with a world full of people as educated and stupid as you, you have no rights to complain. You deserve earth as it is. It is my judgment.
The Chosen Nation of God...
...are merely a particular threshold of talented people in what the Americans today call the "Performing Arts." In the olden days they were artisans and they controlled much about culture, commerce and the weather. In time, they congealed into a nation called Israel and did miracles through their art. Today they are "scattered" around the world at the tail end of the era of slavery, so the real nation of Israel will certainly rise again. I'm not challenging the Democracy of Israel. I'm suggesting that it is a precursor to the Kingdom of God on Earth, or Jehovah-Nissi. BUT... as with 2000 years ago, the Democracy of Israel could choose wrong and enjoy an extended stay beneath the ironic gaze of Jesus, King of the Jews.
For if Jesus is not the Messiah, then show him to me today, for he MUST be alive today as prophesy is fulfilled.
For if Jesus is not the Messiah, then show him to me today, for he MUST be alive today as prophesy is fulfilled.
The Holy Universal and Catholic Church
Catholic means positive-science. Now, Christians build megalithic structures to describe inconsistencies in the religion that cannot be wished away. I often shudder when I see grown men opening up their imagination to run away when asked, for example, about the differeng creation stories and their implications for Cain and Abel, or, for example, how the wise men knew which manger under the stars was the right one. Now, in my story, which is true and witnessed by many, I posit the Northern Star to be the Sun and in my case the sun, through a rainbow, shone on me. There was no ambiguity, no need to construct massive structures to shelter deceit. The exact spot is known to this day, where the Northern Star shone it's light. Now what's this about the Northern Star? Well, in history, at some point man related the sun to fire already on earth so the sun became a being of fire form which angels emmanated. Then, someone noticed the twinkling of the star and hypothesized, a long time ago, that the sun was ALSO a star. Became a secret and the basis of ALL religion. At any relevant level of Truth and the Psyche, every religion on earth fosters Sun Worship. What I hate is those who will go to great lengths to make linear what is convoluted. The Bible is full of these inconsistencies which the honest shall no longer wish away with gaudy theories that make worse sense than the culprit verses. It is why I have great disdain for Kreflow Dollar and Oral Roberts, despite using their expertize to decipher for myself the truth of the Bible.
Sunday, February 25, 2007
Fishers of Men
I've been celibate several years contiguously so I know what it means to be a fisher of men. I see Jesus T.O.T.A.L.L.Y. different from your best artistes. Their depictions, of the one who entertained Matthew's friends with his intimacies on philosophy, are idiotic. You better come with it, Ammeca... for your hour is at hand. I am a new Civilization.
In one view of Greek Theater, the central character in a play is the four directors of it or "elements" as Aristotle said. So we have Jesus, the central character and four disciples. Who was Matthew? That's an epic. Who was Mark? That's a story. Who was Luke? That's a story. Who was John? That's an epic. I think you need to first see the Gospels in their epic light before you begin to appreciate the magnitude of Jesus.
"So noted."
will do....
In one view of Greek Theater, the central character in a play is the four directors of it or "elements" as Aristotle said. So we have Jesus, the central character and four disciples. Who was Matthew? That's an epic. Who was Mark? That's a story. Who was Luke? That's a story. Who was John? That's an epic. I think you need to first see the Gospels in their epic light before you begin to appreciate the magnitude of Jesus.
"So noted."
will do....
So...
If I had sex with this woman, as important as she is to so many people, could Christianity or Kadijhatan Islam be a byproduct? Summarily, yes. (Sir, do you see how this works? The introduction of eMotion in valid logical science?)
Basic Instinct 2
The honest can no longer disavow the imporance of the Oedipus Complex in Jewish lore. That we saw it with Solomon, who married "Pharaoh's Daughter" a mere 400 years after slavery is instructive only to millenials. 400 years is an eternity.
Still not long enough to shroud Bath-Sheba as being the Queen of Sheba.
But that it should show up as the Mother of God reminds me of the woman I am still in love with. I thought that when I got to my thirties my lusts for older women would subside. And they have. But one remains. And she is a mother figure in the movement.
Still not long enough to shroud Bath-Sheba as being the Queen of Sheba.
But that it should show up as the Mother of God reminds me of the woman I am still in love with. I thought that when I got to my thirties my lusts for older women would subside. And they have. But one remains. And she is a mother figure in the movement.
From the Wiki
Euripides
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A statue of EuripidesEuripides (Greek: Ευριπίδης) (c. 480–406 BC) was the last of the three great tragedians of classical Athens (the other two being Aeschylus and Sophocles). Ancient scholars thought that Euripides had written ninety-five plays, although four of those were probably written by Critias. Eighteen of Euripides' plays have survived complete. It is now widely believed that what was thought to be a nineteenth, Rhesus, was probably not by Euripides.[1] Fragments, some substantial, of most of the other plays also survive. More of his plays have survived than those of Aeschylus and Sophocles together, partly because of the chance preservation of a manuscript that was probably part of a complete collection of his works in alphabetical order.
Euripides is known primarily for having reshaped the formal structure of traditional Attic tragedy by showing strong women characters and smart slaves, and by satirizing many heroes of Greek mythology. His plays seem modern by comparison with those of his contemporaries, focusing on the inner lives and motives of his characters in a way previously unknown to Greek audiences.
From Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia
Jump to: navigation, search
A statue of EuripidesEuripides (Greek: Ευριπίδης) (c. 480–406 BC) was the last of the three great tragedians of classical Athens (the other two being Aeschylus and Sophocles). Ancient scholars thought that Euripides had written ninety-five plays, although four of those were probably written by Critias. Eighteen of Euripides' plays have survived complete. It is now widely believed that what was thought to be a nineteenth, Rhesus, was probably not by Euripides.[1] Fragments, some substantial, of most of the other plays also survive. More of his plays have survived than those of Aeschylus and Sophocles together, partly because of the chance preservation of a manuscript that was probably part of a complete collection of his works in alphabetical order.
Euripides is known primarily for having reshaped the formal structure of traditional Attic tragedy by showing strong women characters and smart slaves, and by satirizing many heroes of Greek mythology. His plays seem modern by comparison with those of his contemporaries, focusing on the inner lives and motives of his characters in a way previously unknown to Greek audiences.
E.D. Poz. You Again!
Fest we had Oedipus and Jochasta. Den we had Solomon and Bath-Sheba. Now we have
Jesus and Mary. Why oh why, Jah jah mek ya feel god, aweyah..o.
Jesus and Mary. Why oh why, Jah jah mek ya feel god, aweyah..o.
Imagine a world where...
...the talented pianists were nicknamed "Jews" and sold into bondage to prevent them from knowing their value so that they could be exploited by principalities and powers for as long as good was stupid enough to be subservient to evil. Well, the Jews were the Chosen Nation of God, is this not so? Intuit... ode...h...
Listen, in time history has attributes such as collective consciousness. Probability hints that during a key moment in history a Jew would reveal the code of the Jews in broad daylight in order to take the only risk worth taking--of letting the evil but stupid see why Jesus reigns supreme in the pschye. "Mary, call me..."
Jade.
Listen, in time history has attributes such as collective consciousness. Probability hints that during a key moment in history a Jew would reveal the code of the Jews in broad daylight in order to take the only risk worth taking--of letting the evil but stupid see why Jesus reigns supreme in the pschye. "Mary, call me..."
Jade.
Wh-Words
What. As in "look, see what" since "what" is what is relevant and the only relevant thing is what.[eh..r..]
"Why do they hate us?"
They hate our freedoms. I'm being sircaustic. Give me a few minutes and I'll set everything straight.
The Bounds of Imagination
How important is imagination? Is it just a picturesque view of Victorian qualities or is it important because it is also logical and so presupposes the logical supremacy of the imaginer? They called this sort of question "rhetoric" in the olden days. With my new I.Q. I think I shall act.
Ras Makonen
After my experiences during the Millenial Olympics, I went "inside" and became a very quite person. Spent an entire year with Tafari learning what he understood to be nobility and regality. I witness that he was and remains a noble soul (and father) to me.
The Glorification of Mann
When I see folks like Yousef NDour lionizing Sheikh Ahmadu Bamba or Rasta Jomo Akono making much ado about Ras Makonen, Prince of Ethiopia, I often wonder about these people. The men they are idolizing are certainly not worth it, or have not, as yet, demonstrated anything that would cause ME to give them any praise. I sat with Selasie last night and finally had a heart to heart. If I was alive during his time, he surmised, I would have planned a "coup" and taken over his kingdom. We laughed. Though it was nearly true, his sentiment.
Abu Gharib: What's in a spelling?
While embeds and their coorporations decided to use "Abu Ghraib" there is evidence that the name of the locale is "Abu Gharib." What's in a name and why would there be a change? First of all, how did I know this? I have friends who see things, and we have seen the highway pass to Abu Gharib that says "Abu Gharib, 5 Miles." You know how the government uses mindcontrol to send messages to psychotics through the news media? Well, that's how we knew. (Always makes me laugh when the psychiatrist says: "Do you sometimes think there are messages for you on TV?" Yes, I'm going to tell you. Yes, I saw a message from Bernard Shaw. He called President Clinton "the Leader" in a way that was unmistakably a message for me. Yes, I'm going to tell you in a white suit. Ode!) Anyway, about Abu Gharib, it just made me wonder why there was a lack of precision. Was this, as well, a slam dunk? Not quite. Not apparently. Gharib or Yarrib in Hausa Lore is the father of the Yoruba. Abu Yarrib, his son or kid brother, was who eventually led the Yoruba from the clutches of a racist Mecca to the sanity of a Delta Paradise in Niger Area.
Where the buck stops
Abu Gharib. Rummy.
Bad Equipment. Dubya, prince of the elite.
No American vision. Dubya, guardian of entrenched interests.
Bad Music. Condi.
Bad Writing. Condi.
Bad Culture. Condi.
Bad food. Condi. (After all, the place of a woman is in the kitchen, not in diplomatic meetings where men talk)
Bad clothes. Condi.
If Condi ran for prez, would I support her over Hillary? That's a no-brainer. Of course.
Bad Equipment. Dubya, prince of the elite.
No American vision. Dubya, guardian of entrenched interests.
Bad Music. Condi.
Bad Writing. Condi.
Bad Culture. Condi.
Bad food. Condi. (After all, the place of a woman is in the kitchen, not in diplomatic meetings where men talk)
Bad clothes. Condi.
If Condi ran for prez, would I support her over Hillary? That's a no-brainer. Of course.
Trillion Consulting: Our first gig
So, as CEO of Trillion Consulting, had my first meeting with a client yesterday. It's a big job, and I played it safe. Promised what I knew I could deliver, which I thought at first to be "not much." It convinced the client to hand me more responsibility at that depth so I was pretty much ecstatic about the jump off to my consulting career. That was the first telecom project. The second one is a Credit Card Transaction Processing System. Will meet with the client next weekend, with proposal, and allow him 10,000X executive authority to make final decisions about the architecture and technology. Then I'm off with that one. It's an exciting time to be a .NET master AND the principal reader of the Telecom Act of '96. If you know anything about my history, you will be reminded of the "Mighty Green Book" of '99, of which I was one of only a few noble souls in the United States found worthy of carrying this magnificence. Because there was no plausible hope of getting anywhere with such volume in this lifetime, I used "horizontal thinking" and grasped from the data the more relevant aspects. I do believe I am currently working on signaling right now, unifying with models of more abstract semantic networks, so that we can begin to think of intelligent voice/data signalling as state transition functions in the finite state domain. It's pure bliss. I just wish a gurl like Jade was my girl, to share my joy with me. But since she's not, I shall hang out, again, with usg... my favorite wife... and regal her with more tales about "stupid people."
The Kingdom of Olodumare
Many years ago lived a man. Said he, "it seems that I am more intelligent, by
a vast degree, than the other six billion people on this planet. He set out, that
night, to test man. Man to man, he asked the relevant question, and man to man
all men failed to meet his glory until he had tested all men. The young lad who
carried his pouch for him said, "Now what, Mr. Olodumare? Ehn? Now what? You and
your I.Q."
a vast degree, than the other six billion people on this planet. He set out, that
night, to test man. Man to man, he asked the relevant question, and man to man
all men failed to meet his glory until he had tested all men. The young lad who
carried his pouch for him said, "Now what, Mr. Olodumare? Ehn? Now what? You and
your I.Q."
Images of Jesus in my life
Death and ressurection
At the age of eight, went "under" during an epileptic seizure. Only returned, guaranteed, because I wanted to deliver a message to my cousin who, incidentally, saw me go under as she was headed to the bathroom in the middle of the night. I was under "in the womb" for about three minutes. I witness that physical death and ressurection are possible.
The Way, the Truth and the Life
I witness that I also believe that Nigeria, thus Africa, will never make it to the glory that is its ultimate vision without taking me seriously. So I am very in tune with someone saying that, FOR MY PEOPLE O, there is no way to OUR FATHER OLODUMARE but through me, Solon St. John.
Water to Wine
There's been times when there's no liquor or smoke but my writing or humor has caused the secretion of pleasurable liquids in the brain.
Lazarus
By use of deja view, we get reincarnated beings to recall being part of our posse in times past. We need all the memories we can get.
Feeding a Multitude
In practical terms, in the days when my legal status was "friend" to certain Superpowers, I could count on the State to SUDDENLY supply any ad hoc party of mine with bread and fish in no time should the mob begin to demand it. Sate Security is real.
Crucifixion
Don't like to talk about it, but ultimately a natural reaction to the details of my talents causes a net effect of crucifixion by my peers from Nigeria and many who believed themselves to be in my realm. I ignored it in history, since Jesus already suffered that one for me.
I could go on for a while...
At the age of eight, went "under" during an epileptic seizure. Only returned, guaranteed, because I wanted to deliver a message to my cousin who, incidentally, saw me go under as she was headed to the bathroom in the middle of the night. I was under "in the womb" for about three minutes. I witness that physical death and ressurection are possible.
The Way, the Truth and the Life
I witness that I also believe that Nigeria, thus Africa, will never make it to the glory that is its ultimate vision without taking me seriously. So I am very in tune with someone saying that, FOR MY PEOPLE O, there is no way to OUR FATHER OLODUMARE but through me, Solon St. John.
Water to Wine
There's been times when there's no liquor or smoke but my writing or humor has caused the secretion of pleasurable liquids in the brain.
Lazarus
By use of deja view, we get reincarnated beings to recall being part of our posse in times past. We need all the memories we can get.
Feeding a Multitude
In practical terms, in the days when my legal status was "friend" to certain Superpowers, I could count on the State to SUDDENLY supply any ad hoc party of mine with bread and fish in no time should the mob begin to demand it. Sate Security is real.
Crucifixion
Don't like to talk about it, but ultimately a natural reaction to the details of my talents causes a net effect of crucifixion by my peers from Nigeria and many who believed themselves to be in my realm. I ignored it in history, since Jesus already suffered that one for me.
I could go on for a while...
National Productivity and Workflow Modeling
Nigeria exports unrefined oil to the U.S. then pays for refined oil for domestic consumption. The net effect is that Nigeria pays for the service of refinement of oil. I see no mention of this in the non-existent models I also see no mention of that characterize Nigerian Econometrics and "the order of all things." I am one of them, the "all things" men. I love being one of them... :-)
Of Nicea and King James
The "Counsellors" at Nicea were very intelligent, yes? So they, TOO, were very well appraised about, for instance, the controversies in the book of Genesis, particularly the variations in creation story. Why, then, did they allow such controversy to exist... IF they were not relying on a certain "spirit of the letter" to interpret what okkerred...? Huh?
Hillary v. Obama
I just things should go as they have gone in history. White women have been the primary beneficiary of the changes in suffrage and whatnot, so let them have the first go at the presidency. Mr. Obama is young. His season will come.
Madam President
Is, as Hillary Clintons suggests, Jerusalem the "Eternal indivisible capital of Israel"? Evidently not. Jerusalem is evidence of man's ability to wage peace. It is an international monument to problems and their solutions.
Palestine
Because we have just submitted a "viable" proposal, all I'll say is that no one can deny that the people of Palestine are owed reparations for a COMMITTED injustice. That is, the act for which they petition the forces of justice is irreversible. Justice, then, can only be simulated. It was, OBVIOUSLY, a calculated risk by Zionist strategists and thinkers, that after fifty years the state of Israel would no longer stand the risk of disappearing in the nothingness of history once again. Dubya would point to the "realities on the ground" as shaping the nature of the dialog. All I can say is that I am a witness that there are proposals out there that are immaginative enough. Use your head.
The Previous Time
In my experience, and I can say little of this right now while I collate results, the number 144,000 is significant enough for those tuned into the psyche of mankind to notice its prominence in the year 2006 primarilly. If it is true that this number is now significant to practical psychologists, then we must say to ourselves that someone two thousand years ago was accurate enough in Mosaic Logic to predict the way of those who chose the morality founded upon the principles of Moses. Not so? So! This vision, found in the book of Revelations, has us chattering at MJSTC.
The now relevant question concerns the DATE Jesus was born. In our estimation it had, like now, to be a millenial event, leading not only to the frenzied expectation of an epoch-changing Messiah, but the ability to see things millenially as we now do. Currently, my average foresight is seven thousand years. "In America, seven thousand years from now," my thought often becomes. We merely wish to know the date of Jesus' birth. Please don't say 0AD. I mean, the date in the previous calendar.
The now relevant question concerns the DATE Jesus was born. In our estimation it had, like now, to be a millenial event, leading not only to the frenzied expectation of an epoch-changing Messiah, but the ability to see things millenially as we now do. Currently, my average foresight is seven thousand years. "In America, seven thousand years from now," my thought often becomes. We merely wish to know the date of Jesus' birth. Please don't say 0AD. I mean, the date in the previous calendar.
Was Jesus the Messiah?
Functionally I'd have to say he was. Were it not for his effect on the fears in the psyche of rulers of other nations, the Nation of Israel would have in no wise been entrenched enough in the consciousness of mankind to survive that first night as a Sovereign Entity or Common Law State. Besides that, we see clearly today that the children of Israel have no hope of attaining the glory of times past... if they do not take Jesus and those who come after him seriously. This Democracy of Israel is not proven.
From Saul to Constantine
We know that Saul advocated that gentiles, too, could be part of this new Kingdom of God which cometh. It is why Christianity has the attributes it does, believing in pretension itself to be an exclusive religion when this CLEARLY is not the case.
Saul became Paul after the epiphany on the road to Damascus. Constantine converted
to Christianity after the epiphany at battle. Both men were gentiles. Well, Solon-Paul was not originally a gentile. He forfeited his protections when he began to bring gentiles in. I suggest that in the case of Constantine, this new way of thinking was certainly radical, the suggestion that the Powers of Venus and Romulus were consolidated and accessible individually and without the need of state institutions like the priesthood. I suggest to you that it MUST be that Constantine saw this shift in roles as being more convenient that the status quo, MUSTN'T IT? IT MUST! IT MUST! Thank you.
The new way of thinking was certainly interesting. By following the precepts of Jesus, and not the Rabbis or Roman Priests, man could attain glory. We call it Democracy in this hemisphere.
Saul became Paul after the epiphany on the road to Damascus. Constantine converted
to Christianity after the epiphany at battle. Both men were gentiles. Well, Solon-Paul was not originally a gentile. He forfeited his protections when he began to bring gentiles in. I suggest that in the case of Constantine, this new way of thinking was certainly radical, the suggestion that the Powers of Venus and Romulus were consolidated and accessible individually and without the need of state institutions like the priesthood. I suggest to you that it MUST be that Constantine saw this shift in roles as being more convenient that the status quo, MUSTN'T IT? IT MUST! IT MUST! Thank you.
The new way of thinking was certainly interesting. By following the precepts of Jesus, and not the Rabbis or Roman Priests, man could attain glory. We call it Democracy in this hemisphere.
Where the tale is now
Long, long ago, man established the Kingdom of Jehovah on earth, Jehovah itself trending to mean "locale of the spirit of God on earth". Man did this through great and mighty kings, men of renown who came in unto the women of the earth and also then bore great sons of renown. Then somehow Israel fell from grace and Nature and the Nature of Providence predicted that in the fullness of time would come one who would understand the "olden ways" and lead Israel back to God. The fullness of time came and one in fact did show up, BUT he tried to show Israel that the Kingdom of God on Earth was beyond Roman Rule, it started as an individual internal spiritual quest for purity. Not so? Not so? So! He was mauled and fed to the lions, this one. For, at that time, Roman Rule WAS what stood between Israel and the Kingdom of Jehovah and the mighty Kings of Yore. Not so? Well, after his death, his new way of thinking filtered through the Jewish community as many pondered if, as this prophet said, there was no way FOR THE JEWS to the FATHER OF THE JEWS--Yahwveh,
excecpt through the principles espoused by HIM, Jesus. But comes Paul who preaches this message to the gentiles so over the years there is a conflation. You will hear the Hebrew Israelite Tribe member say that "Christ came to die for our sins" and
"In Christianity, Christ is the only way to God." I don't see how they came to this conclusion. Christ came to lead Israel back to Jehovah, I agree. And for the Jewish
Nation there was to be no other way back to the glory of God but through Jesus,
I also agree. What the fuck hath that to do with me, a bird from Okpara inland,
known in history as the one who put Cicero to sleep. I'm a a Roman counselor. Rome
is the physical representation of the Astral realm.
excecpt through the principles espoused by HIM, Jesus. But comes Paul who preaches this message to the gentiles so over the years there is a conflation. You will hear the Hebrew Israelite Tribe member say that "Christ came to die for our sins" and
"In Christianity, Christ is the only way to God." I don't see how they came to this conclusion. Christ came to lead Israel back to Jehovah, I agree. And for the Jewish
Nation there was to be no other way back to the glory of God but through Jesus,
I also agree. What the fuck hath that to do with me, a bird from Okpara inland,
known in history as the one who put Cicero to sleep. I'm a a Roman counselor. Rome
is the physical representation of the Astral realm.
Saturday, February 24, 2007
Christ in His Kingly Character?
No, bitch, I came to die for your sins. Oh nail me, nail me, nail me to the cross... fag...
Who is Solon St. John?
The one who came after Jesus. They said he had to be "out of this world" to even think of following THAT act.
Hot Diggidy Dawg
Jesus --> Susej
God --> [Hot]Dog
So what? English contains many interesting observations about morality. I am certainly one of those who believe that Master Masons of a negative bent have been and continue to be involved in depleting morality by introducing low culture into mainstream culture through carefully chosen words and extended "magical" phrases in sound. I speak for the Church of England and the Ghost of Christ. You may call me Solon St. John.
God --> [Hot]Dog
So what? English contains many interesting observations about morality. I am certainly one of those who believe that Master Masons of a negative bent have been and continue to be involved in depleting morality by introducing low culture into mainstream culture through carefully chosen words and extended "magical" phrases in sound. I speak for the Church of England and the Ghost of Christ. You may call me Solon St. John.
Jesus Lives
Normally when I need an answer, to a.n.y.t.h.i.n.g. I "ask a Mason" and get my answer in either three hours, three days, three weeks, three months, three years, etc. Well, this one took three hours. I see the portrait of Jesus hidden in the shroud.
Olodu ma Reh
A singular man, he sits on his throne and fans himself.
"It is sometimes hot in these parts of the universe" he says and fancies a Sprite.
"Earth, you know?" he says, staring, as it were, into nothing, "I sent my son to school there and all he has said of it since he returned is that he is no longer Jesus."
"It is sometimes hot in these parts of the universe" he says and fancies a Sprite.
"Earth, you know?" he says, staring, as it were, into nothing, "I sent my son to school there and all he has said of it since he returned is that he is no longer Jesus."
Apollyon
Abydon is Ara Iba Eden-reh, we know. What is Napoleon?
"It is a secret system of French civilization..."
"Yes, what is it?"
"Here..."
"It is a secret system of French civilization..."
"Yes, what is it?"
"Here..."
Shango Sez...
"We call them bastards... the ones who have no father of their own..."
"Shango!"
"Hello ma..."
"You, you are responsible for this one..."
"My family is fine ma, thank you..."
"Shango!"
"Hello ma..."
"You, you are responsible for this one..."
"My family is fine ma, thank you..."
Solon sez...
"Haven't you noticed that it's always gentiles preaching the gospel of the Jewish King?"
Apollo
So, if Paul did not preach to the gentiles, which he was when he was Saul, then
the exclusivity of Christianity would not be a question. Why I do believe Jysus
is ryvylyng hymsylf tahmey...
the exclusivity of Christianity would not be a question. Why I do believe Jysus
is ryvylyng hymsylf tahmey...
Childhood Heroes of the Patriarch
Sanni Abacha, the man behind the voice and the glasses, was both revered and feared. Few loved him. But he turned out to have too chubby a face for history and was quickly discarded. People loved the rotund atmosphere of Obasanjo because it showed that even the flawed could rule countries. But his rulership left most wanting, yearning for the meaning of life. It is all about the face. The jaw. The savageness of the stare. Not, sir, the stomach... and its implications. Your civilization died of an amala overdose... (how is our wife?)
From Memory: Chairman rearranged
These lyrics are the handiwork of Iyare Izevbaye at the age of about ten or eleven,
Gaga Ekeh at an age slightly less, a palm wine tapper that distributed palm wine on Sunday mornings, Wole Soyinka, and the lifetime of nothingness and pleasure that was my childhood:
Chairman wetin you dey find for overseas o?
We tink say you still dey for home...
A I forget, e just pass the time
For da meeting of all di share holders...
Chairman, you sabi waka o...
We look for you from Gongola to Jinja
For ABeokuta, dem say you just comot...
Your executive kekelemu pass us for Lagos-Ibadan expressway...
I will cease, for the moment, so that you can appreciate what I'm saying. That
at that age we'd dare to take a monumental work to pieces, without even tinking,
is a necessary precondition of humanity. You do not yet know the children of
Africa. My IQ is still over 200...
Gaga Ekeh at an age slightly less, a palm wine tapper that distributed palm wine on Sunday mornings, Wole Soyinka, and the lifetime of nothingness and pleasure that was my childhood:
Chairman wetin you dey find for overseas o?
We tink say you still dey for home...
A I forget, e just pass the time
For da meeting of all di share holders...
Chairman, you sabi waka o...
We look for you from Gongola to Jinja
For ABeokuta, dem say you just comot...
Your executive kekelemu pass us for Lagos-Ibadan expressway...
I will cease, for the moment, so that you can appreciate what I'm saying. That
at that age we'd dare to take a monumental work to pieces, without even tinking,
is a necessary precondition of humanity. You do not yet know the children of
Africa. My IQ is still over 200...
Langston Hughes Protests!
The woods ARE lovely, dark and deep...
But I, too, have promises to keep...
I understand what he says, the old man, but he is just another Abeokuta Mason. They always think themselves to be the most superior of all the Europeans who walked the earth.
But I, too, have promises to keep...
I understand what he says, the old man, but he is just another Abeokuta Mason. They always think themselves to be the most superior of all the Europeans who walked the earth.
Contemplating Live Performance
In theater, my music was put to dance drama two or so years ago. The experience was interesting. I see musical drama as the most potent form of disemmination in this era. It is, aggregationally as I am wont to say, what families will agree to enjoy together. Now the opportunity arises, as they will from time to time, for me to enhance the notion. I envision sitting in a jazz trio invoking the spirit of Harlem Renaissance, and three modern dancers on stage, inviting us to understand why Langston Hughes' poetry sounds like cheese while Robert Frost's sounds like poetry. It is because, as poetry is the nature of darkness--something the third world taught me--black men must deify it. Langston Hughes and Countee Cullen, in this perspective, are the Karl Marx and Lenin of Black Poetry or "Juju."
Galilee
Here is the C of Galilee ("there is no C in team"):
The paradigm of Genesis is one of a flat world where the earth is the center of all that exists. It's relevant metric is the number seven. The paradigm of Revelations is a world where we have come to accept the lamb of God as being the center of all things, so we revolve around the lamb of God in portions of seven that divide into twelve so the relevant metric is the number twelve. Get it so far? Seven-flat world. Twelve-round world. Just how long did it take for perspective to shift from seven to twelve? I am not speaking with non-geniuses, so I think you understand my point. Also, I intuit very strongly, if not suggest, that changing the perspective in physics, as it relates to commerce, MUST imply the defeat of a superpower, probably militarily in some fashion.
The paradigm of Genesis is one of a flat world where the earth is the center of all that exists. It's relevant metric is the number seven. The paradigm of Revelations is a world where we have come to accept the lamb of God as being the center of all things, so we revolve around the lamb of God in portions of seven that divide into twelve so the relevant metric is the number twelve. Get it so far? Seven-flat world. Twelve-round world. Just how long did it take for perspective to shift from seven to twelve? I am not speaking with non-geniuses, so I think you understand my point. Also, I intuit very strongly, if not suggest, that changing the perspective in physics, as it relates to commerce, MUST imply the defeat of a superpower, probably militarily in some fashion.
Revelations of Jesus
As I said, should the historical Jesus reveal himself to me, I will be his number one advocate, as is my history. As is, as you know, the only book in the New Testament that has any relevance to us is the book of Revelations, and probably for obvious reasons. It IS the book of Revelations. Some of us are studying the implications of a seer being accurate two thousand years into the future. It is exciting and fascinating. But I, I on the other hand, am studying the theory that Jesus was instituted as a State Religion (Christianity) by Military Conquest. After all, the gossip is that Constantine saw the Cross of Christ in the sky during a battle and ever since then Jesus became his king. We do not know yet the reasons any Roman Emperor would change religion, but judging from the eternal precision of Latin and the connotations of the word "Emperor" I suggest that initially Rome had founding gods which, based on social and military principles, it would behoove any administrator of such a vast empire to pay attention to. In time, as in all civilizations, the gods become complex, then complicated until finally it is time to decide their relevance in the lives of the average Roman Soldier. Roman Soldier. Ah, you get it. So, I am begining to intuit very strongly that the change to Christianity had a lot to do with Military Science. In this way, then, Jesus is not very different from the sword-wielding Moor Hlamidi.
It seems...
...that Freedom of Speech is alive again... I understand... the need for pauses and whatnot... :-)
Awon Olodumare
As a result of 9-11, the sense of insulation that isolated America from the mystery of mortal life has endured a quiet relapse into nothingness. So, Americans now ask questions about the nature of man such as have not been asked before. Soon, you intuit, will come men amongst men who understand the ways of man in a global environment. Men who know what to see when they look into the dungeon that is a man’s eyes. In Yoruba land these men are called Awon Olodumare. Olodumare. One who has the odu witnessed by One in need of the odu. One who uses the odu witnessed by One in need of the odu. Oni odu. O lo odu. He has the odu THEREFORE he uses the odu. This thing in language is a cultural presupposition, abstracting away from the instance. Functionally, Awon Olodumare are men of very high IQ amongst a collection of people of very high IQ so that in absolute terms they may be seen either as small-g gods in the Greek sense, or in the Yoruba sense children of (descended of) the collective singular entity called Olodumare, or “that because of which knowledge of fate is known.” Fate is outside the hands of Olodumare but not pleasure. Is Olodumare less powerful, then? He leans back and ponders.
“I wouldn’t say I’m less powerful.” He leans forward conspiratorially, “and yet…”
And yet…
Fate is not such a mystery, is it? It is merely the human representation of the outliers in a historical distribution measuring resources and the implications of their exploitation. Is this complicated? I’m sure you can get it…
“I wouldn’t say I’m less powerful.” He leans forward conspiratorially, “and yet…”
And yet…
Fate is not such a mystery, is it? It is merely the human representation of the outliers in a historical distribution measuring resources and the implications of their exploitation. Is this complicated? I’m sure you can get it…
Thursday, February 22, 2007
Olodumare
There is the memory in my psyche which takes the physical form of a man. His wit is recognizable, such as escaped in the entry entitled gnosticism. Beware of this man. Please trust me when I say he has been deemed a "danger to civilization."
Revelations
And yet, for reasons best known to me at this time, I will defend the evidence of the existence of one truthful witness, John, who met either the historical Jesus or a valid representative of his. It is the only book in the New Testament I give prominence, the book of Revelations.
...
Jesus Sez:
Well, as you must have found out when you spent three years studying this matter, for Prophesy to carry any weight in Jewish culture it had to have some social utility, thus a methodology for ascertaining the value of various prophets. Essentially, then, Prophesy in Jewish culture followed some type of logic which, clearly, was not obvious to those who needed the services of the Prophet. The Book of Revelations, in my humble opinion, is just the prophesy of and by the best of these men. They called him, then, Jesus. Go read the bible again.
...
Jesus Sez:
Well, as you must have found out when you spent three years studying this matter, for Prophesy to carry any weight in Jewish culture it had to have some social utility, thus a methodology for ascertaining the value of various prophets. Essentially, then, Prophesy in Jewish culture followed some type of logic which, clearly, was not obvious to those who needed the services of the Prophet. The Book of Revelations, in my humble opinion, is just the prophesy of and by the best of these men. They called him, then, Jesus. Go read the bible again.
Gnosticism
As is my tradition, if the Historical Jesus reveals himself to me, in much the same way in which I am now the world's most vivid advocate of the historical God, I will extend the same courtesies. For me the question is not of whether Jesus existed or was a monumental figure of the times. We know he was. We just cannot defend the New Testament as being the will of the Lord. We only hear from him in manners which cannot precisely inform us enough to dispel ambiguity and then are informed, haughtilly, that these meager reparations are to be our food and drink for the festival. I think not...
Just Once...
...will I say this. If greatness requires precision in lore, then Jesus and the Prophet are at a disadvantage. With Jesus, it is evident that he was a great man but we will never know how great because of the deceit of his disciples. AS YOU KNOW! With the Prophet, fear will never allow us appreciate the extent to which his grievances were addressed by the sword. Get it...
For example...
Which of these walked the streets of gold or commanded thunder to reign upon an opposing army at the hour of need? No, siree Bob. My gods have glory and to them it goes. You can stick with all that fake crap that moves me not, I live in the realm of honesty...
The Religion of Peace
After discussing Islam with certain friends who had studied it at a scholarly level, even in Palestine and in places where the risk of being Lackawanized is great...
I have come to the following conclusions.
Those who do not have the creativity or resourcefullness necessary to create an alternate paradigm from the dominant but flawed will choose the best paradigm available via the medium of their culture. So I do not fault grown men who seek to glorify other grown men. I just will not do it. And neither, then, will my family. Show me any evidence of any true glory from some of these... leaders of religion and I will give them praise. I live in the world of honesty... get the fuck out m'face...
I have come to the following conclusions.
Those who do not have the creativity or resourcefullness necessary to create an alternate paradigm from the dominant but flawed will choose the best paradigm available via the medium of their culture. So I do not fault grown men who seek to glorify other grown men. I just will not do it. And neither, then, will my family. Show me any evidence of any true glory from some of these... leaders of religion and I will give them praise. I live in the world of honesty... get the fuck out m'face...
Aliens
Judging from my humble experience, it is sometimes necessary for agents of the U.S. government to "abduct" citizens for corrective psychological surgery. These often happen via induced hypnosis, often remembered as invasive surgery by martians. Most UFO sightings are experimental aircraft or intruders. The intruders are rare so do not preclude actual alien craft. As for the presence of disembodied intelligence or the presence of a species of significantly higher average intelligence than humans, such questions are no longer relevant under the paradigm which I-As are forced to operate under during millenial events, this paradigm which emphasizes an intelligence continuum centered in space at the source of all creativity. Think about it... (b/w you and I, a planet in which 2bill follow Jesus and 2bill follow the ProphPBUH should be evidence that, unless God is a dunce, we are not exemplars of superior intelligence)
Conspiracy Theory
Well, if you must know, I was an avid conspiracy theorist in the late '90s, until '99 when my IQ required of me, as a function of duty, to become part of the conspiracy.
Roswell
This is more-or-less a private blog, accessible I don't know how, though we have had fourteen or so visitors. There was a trapdoor from myspace in here, but that's closed now. Anyway, if there be any skeptics, amongst those who, basically, don't have the clearance to verify what I'm saying, then here's one for you. If you lived in a neighborhood that was a classified government project, would you be intelligent enough to know that the government was involved in something there? So it was in North River Village Apartments, Atlanta, where I stumbled into the end of a rainbow. There, at North River, please go and do the research and find out if the government didn't, often, functionally urge people to please forget what they were now seeing. You know... "if they could." I rest my case
How clandestine is GENSSSS
Well, till this day, no one seems to know it exists save the highest ranking pilots in US intelligence and the highest ranking air traffic controllers in US intelligence and the highest ranking men and women they report to.
Solutions since '99
Palestine
Al Kader
AIDS
True (accurate) Administrative models of Africa
When you sleep alone you sleep with Bin Ladin--Implications of the Telecom Act of '96
and a few more...
Al Kader
AIDS
True (accurate) Administrative models of Africa
When you sleep alone you sleep with Bin Ladin--Implications of the Telecom Act of '96
and a few more...
The Seventeenth Unit
Sir, between you and I, here's the whole truth. I more-or-less run a unit known as Gaga Ekeh's Not-So-Secret-Secret Service. We are autonomous and only report to an invisible man I call the "Entertainment Minister." He opposed the Iraq war, but aside from that we get along famously. What do we do, this unit? We solve problems. I'm a guaranteed solutions provider.
The Real Women in my Life
I hate to single out any one year as a banner year, yet for me it was 1999. In that year I discovered how to see my true self in the mirror, despite the deformities of ill health. I attained wellness subsequently and so became very clear about my priorities. Of women I would not compromise. I did not think I'd find the sort of women, amongst the common people (i.e. those not intelligent enough to have been hounded by IAs), whom I could relate to meaningfully. Sade Adu became my template for a woman--and in my circle in those days she was not rare. But then I was the young one on the ladder, never proven despite the potential to be fulfilled seen by all those who looked at my class. Well, eight years later I've fulfilled a lot of that potential so now I look again in the IA spheres to see if indeed I shall find a lover of quality. I should inform you that since '99 there has only been one true contender for that spot. She's in her fifties now, I believe, and a true intellectual. By now it ought to be obvious to her that I'm in love with her--she knows I wanted her to have my baby, not out of love that time, but because I felt that she was the only woman whom I could allow raise a child of mine. She laughed, probably flattered. So assumptions concerning my love for her would not be out of order. She is a peer of Sade, but older. She's the only one that has ever come close. Now that I'm about to be in the spheres again, I'm paying close attention. Don't want "the one" to come into my life and disappear without me knowing it. But in the IA sphere I am excited by the sorts of women I met then, and the sorts I'm certain to meet now. Anyone else? Nope... cain't think of any woman remotely close.
What I mean (bpd)
Alright, having first informed the doctors that the institution of government was at the behest of securing my rights, and that government derived its just powers from the consent of the governed, I told the doctors that I was disputing my bpd diagnosis. Clearly, then, I would not be taking meds so that they could observe my behavior. Right? OBVIOUSLY. So, I didn't take meds. But after two days, my roommate and some others began to get wind of my preferential treatment, and it seems that this particular group of trouble makers were big trouble, so the nurse came to me one night and sez: "Anthony, will you please take your meds?" What happened to being observed away from meds for the sake of my dispute? It didnt' matter. They were trying to avoid immediate wahala. They would deal with the implications later. Now I'm telling you the truth from the void. They asked me to take meds because if and when it was discovered that I wasn't on meds, the other inmates could be very disruptive. Even so it was silly for the Dr. who was in charge, for now she can no longer cover her ass as she so dutifully did when I first got in. When I got out and saw a counsellor, I explained to her in mdw ntr what was going on and her conclusion, to be quite honest, was (as the doctor in cpep said) I "may not have bpd." Really? Get the fuck out of my face. I laugh because all this crap is just an inconvenience. When the universe is aligned I will just disappear and when they try to find me they'll see the big middle finger and a big F U. But if I stay in the U.S. and my rights are not respected, once judgment commences (I'm a pharaoh, so when my stars are aligned I execute judgment) then I'm leaving America... and that has implications that if I mentioned would be sure to characterize me as being delusional... yet I'm attempting to tell you the truth since it is what you seek...
Life in Psychoville
My last trip to the psyche ward was the most revealing. Agents of the institution were very concerned about "political speech" but not unduly. They were also very impressed with my ability to influence others and made sure I knew it. Meaning that even though there never was a context for me to get a "shot" for bad-behavior--they give 'em to Aryan commanders--they still wanted me to know that my bad moods were significant. I was to do what was necessary in order for the government to be right about my diagnosis... until I got out. I'm not kidding. Quite a lot happened in the ward this time. There was sex between inmates, smoking of cigarettes, and planning for life on the outside--the game. They were the most intelligent addicts I'd ever seen or met and I could see that my prediction, publicly announced before I returned to Buffalo, that the "crazy people" were taking over is true. The healthcare system is overwhelmed because your doctors are s.t.u.p.i.d. I know this for a fact. By the time I was leaving the hospital they were sending logicians and constitutional experts to get my attention. I shrugged. Most of it is meaningless to me, if you must know. I often laugh, in private, about how much energy is expended on behalf of my bpd. I'd informed usg long ago about what I'd do if, however it came to be, usg fucked up on my behalf. However it came to be. It didn't necessarilly fuck up... but aggregationally it did... so things are tense. I certainly know that leaving the U.S. has implications you don't even want to discuss, relevant to your Declaration of Independence (my IQ is above 200), but you should know that it STILL remains a trenchant option.
The Truth about BPD
If you want to know, it's a crisis in the U.S. almost on scale with autism. And no one knows how it works or what to do about it. They just aggregate symptoms and classify people, stupidly, as BPD I or II. I can guarantee you that the diagnoses are very imprecise. Been in the hospital four times and each time I come out recognizing that the U.S. is truly in a state of crisis and the sacrifices I make are dedicated to doing my part to keeping this land, which I have called home for half my life, home.
Truth Serum
There are ways to determine how truthful a person is being. In my case, you'll surely find that whatever deceit is to protect real secrets. I'm not an expert on the constitution, so knowing that it is currently under great risk is significant. Other than that, I fashion perspectives to tell you the wonderful story of my life since 1999. But I can assure you that I am speaking the truth in most matters. Where there is controversy it is because I am not yet sure about how to be precise about my aggregations, for my experiences occurred over time and there are several streams of them... It takes time to express the whole truth...
Bipolar Disorder
In 2000, I spent about three days in Dulles Airport, DC. This was not because of a snow delay or because of airline problems. It was, quite simply, a personal matter between me and, I now see, very discrete members of the U.S. government whose concerns about the direction of the U.S. had become very dense. Of course, this is my perspective, but if you do the math, you can find out what I told the police when they eventually got me, that third day. "I work for the government" I told them. They didn't trip. It WAS DC after all. Beyond that, however, they obviously knew what was up. I only paint this other perspective for skeptics. Imagine a person living in Dulles Airport for three days, and not timidly either. Should at least say something about Airport Security. In any case, clearly I wasn't going to announce to people that I was in dialog with government shadows, so the story morphed into me being "very tired" as a result of work exhaustion, then more or less "falling asleep" for three days in Dulles. Likely tale, but hey it worked... But I had to go visit a psychiatrist and it is where our wahala begins. You know the deal. Whatever the psychiatrist says you go with, then throw the medicines away in your spare time. Whatever caused me to reject the placebo role I cannot say. But at some point I was became very disatisfied with U.S. intelligence, and exercized my option to speak as a U.S. Native. It surprised most, not many, including many higher up, but I think they now see that I was compelled to be this difficult by forces beyond my reason--African history demanded it for logic's sake. So, while my road has caught many profilers off guard, tickling most I'd say, I see it as being crucial. Had I not gone this way, things would not be the way they are now, and fewer would be optimistic about the chances of America remaining the world's dominant power. Is joke...
Is he still in?
Believe it or not, he still is a valuable C.I.A. asset. He outs himself constantly but Nigerians are too stupid enough to get it. He is a complex man who sees his alliance with America through the prism of General Abacha. But it is no longer defensible. But, seeing what happened to Scooter, I don't think it's wise to continue nakeding this man... so we shall move on...
Declassified Information
So... a meeting was set up with me and this famous Nigerian in the C.I.A. Well, it lasted about two months, our dialog, and I came to the conclusion that he was a very foolish man, no matter how high up in the C.I.A. he seemed to be. And he was VERY high up. Had access to my content almost similar to the more high tech agencies. Anyway, so after our meeting my thesis to the C.I.A. was that this their celebrated Nigerian agent was "a very foolish man." It caused ripples in '99.
Famous Nigerians in the C.I.A.
The most notable suspect is Oga Jude. But in my generation this is meaningless. If you were a noteworthy student in the '90s and wished to remain in the U.S. you had no choice but to, at some level, cooporate with C.I.A. interests. I just didn't push it. It was not my dream. That said, scandal broke not too long ago when it was discovered that certain prominent Nigerians in the arts "admitted" to working for the C.I.A. One of them even had a nervous breakdown. The one who didn't has been unable to fight back, since I've been using his guilt to beat his big head. But I've stopped since he reported me to... Admirals.
Palestine
I will tell you that I am one of the students tasked with coming up with a solution to the Middle East problem, viable or not. I just handed in my solution three days ago, and it's, they say, "very immaginative." Won't be discussing it here, but I shrug when I see the wars on earth. The lies you politicians have trapped yourselves in will not allow you to see how to act freely when it is obvious.
WMD
It is highly irrelevant that no WMD were found in Iraq. All but one senator, Barbara Boxer I believe, bowed to partisan pressure of the Stalinist sort--initated by short-minded Republican strategists--and gave the Prez carte blanch. Now all we hear is "We were misled." Give me a fucking break. You're chumps. All but Barbara Boxer... I believe it was her who cautioned us all...
Where am I now?
Coming from 8 Crowther Lane, University of Ibadan, this year is to enjoy and appreciate in absolute terms the wonderful things I've accomplished, before I go on to live the life of the adult man. It's been a remarkable journey, and though a trillion people could say that, few would be as precise about that as I. I danced at the foot of a rainbow. Do you know what that does to a person?
How was I recruited?
I used to work for a company at the forefront of technology. One day, my computer began to have a life of its own, clearly being manipulated by one authorized to hack into any computer he or she so desires. I fought the computer, but to no avail. Typing a name, the name would change to the number "1" which became my symbol in the agency. The mouse would move, and the ghost in the computer would come alive. Twas fun, recruitment day. I knew, of course, that I was now being monitored by authority. I knew not which authority but guessed it to be the N.S.A. You must understand I had the profile of a dissident and maybe even a "freedom fighter." They were just saying "hi" and "we see you." Well, we got into dialog after that. Things I always wanted to know. Eugenics. Aliens. The Mona Lisa. AIDS. When they had answered all my questions--many of which they still withold from U.S. Nationals--they had questions of their own, about the universe, they asked me to see if I could answer. I am glad to say that I've answered most of those questions in ways that have surprised all of us involved. So, you see, it was more about the government seeing a young lad full of promise, but emotional enough to be moved into dissidence and those things that go with that. Mine was a success story and I've been a friend of the USG ever since.
Any Advice?
There is nothing the U.S. Government wants to know that it doesn't know or cannot find out. Such as, for example, if there are WMD in Baghdad.
Am I a Spy?
Before I answer that one, I'll tell a brief story. I was at the 5-spot in Brooklyn recently when an underground journalist and I rendezvoused. He wanted to be sure I was the one so he began asking me questions. Quite loudly I responded, "Oh! I'm a spy for the Nigerian government! Where can I get marijuana." He became quite sure instantly. Am I a spy? What is the dream of any 25 year old Nigerian bachelor into high tech and highly regarded for his opinions by his peers and professors? To be recruited by the C.I.A. or N.S.A. and given access to an exciting life of hi tech toys and dangerous Russians. Well it's not been that way since my 25th. I more or less volunteered as a codebreaker in that year. The only reason why the question of my spyhood is relevant is because I've been a very successful codebreaker over eight years. So, I'm not technically a spy. I'm technically a codebreaker.
My Legal Status
I was in my mother's womb in Riverside California in 1973. I was born, however, in Zaria, Nigeria, also in 1973. Was I alive before my birth in Zaria? If yes, then I have the certain rights provided by the American Constitution. If not, then I am a Nigerian national who, perhaps, stuck his neck out to be a friend to the U.S. during its darkest hours. Either way... it should explain what you observe when you look at me in public and notice... those things...
NDI: Who am I?
I was born the son of wealthy sharecroppers in the Colony of Ibadan, east of the Ganges. :-)
But I can be quite precise. Of all Nigerians sons and daughters who made their parents proud, I was, by 1999, going to be the one who made Nigerians proudest. But it would mean giving up marijuna, so I said "fuck that". So, in an alternate reality, I'm Nigeria's most valuable son, a friend of mighty CEOs in Europe and America, whose hummor and wit give me special status amongs certain elite and elitist patrons of the arts and sciences.
But I can be quite precise. Of all Nigerians sons and daughters who made their parents proud, I was, by 1999, going to be the one who made Nigerians proudest. But it would mean giving up marijuna, so I said "fuck that". So, in an alternate reality, I'm Nigeria's most valuable son, a friend of mighty CEOs in Europe and America, whose hummor and wit give me special status amongs certain elite and elitist patrons of the arts and sciences.
American Intelligence
There are sixteen intelligence agencies presided over by a Director. But, as we know, intelligence exsts at the behest of the intelligent. Who are the American intelligent? THAT's the intelligence.
Ultimately...
...there is no escaping from total information awareness... FOR THE CONSUMER. It is
the ONLY way in which capitalism will work in a world that is not entirely capitalist. Think about it... then get it. Then stop making noises and do what's necessary for your country to survive... you less than intelligent eid-entity...
the ONLY way in which capitalism will work in a world that is not entirely capitalist. Think about it... then get it. Then stop making noises and do what's necessary for your country to survive... you less than intelligent eid-entity...
American Capitalism
I now see, rather vividly, that American thinkers believe very strongly in a "stock society" where gains from capitalism can be shared with all and sundry. This mode of thought, very rational in most perspectives, may not take into account immediate history and the desire of most of those aspiring towards middle class status to get there without any further risk. WITHOUT ANY FURTHER RISK! So... I'm still not impressed by Walmart and I just shake my head and laugh when I hear your citizens clamor for Dubya to remove the troops from oil-rich Iraq. After all, fundamentally, as the honest know, the war was to prevent instability in a region with about ten percent of the U.S.'s future oil reserves. Right? Of course! Of course! So...
With an uninformed consumerist society as is evident today in the U.S. no one takes seriously liberal rants to "hands off" the resources of other countries, resources needed to feed the habits of many including liberals themselves.
With an uninformed consumerist society as is evident today in the U.S. no one takes seriously liberal rants to "hands off" the resources of other countries, resources needed to feed the habits of many including liberals themselves.
The Orthodoxy
I reserve my strongest criticism for "the Orthodoxy" led, in principle, by the likes of Ogaga Ifowodo, Molara Wood, Lola Ogunyemi and the Ogunyemi clan, etc. These people with their endless conferences, symposia and speeches, and nothing to show for it. Not one monument to the gods. Not one verse that tickles Olodumare. I read their writings when I can. Boooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooring. Now they are gifted and talented writers, but they are not internally honest enough to be artists of the caliber of those whom I know and respect. My circle is very small and I'm keeping it that way. I know other artists who are developing their skills away from the maddening crowd, who've gotten so good at it I now take it for granted that this era is one in which many of the really talented artistes do not have to make a living from their art--and thus remain pure. I'm soooooo tired of the cliched and stilted quasi-Victorian writing of the Nigerians. It is so lousy... lacking in grace... it is of such comportment that it gives me the sorts of vibrations I don't consider positive. I just HATE unoriginality, and the orthodoxy that spawns it. You just don't know... but one day you will... But I like MollyWood as a person.
Twilly Twilly
So I read that a lovely young writress from Naija was blowing people off the docks with her prose. They gave the chick, 18 years old, a contract of several million pounds sterling. In those days such news intrigued me, only because it had been ascertained by those of requisite caliber that I was probably the most original talent coming out of my village. Well... finally one day I got to read the prose of this chick. She's young, so I'm respectful. I expect that the faith in her had by the British will one day yield fruit. But not yet... beautiful one... not quite yet. So, then, what was all the clamor about? Britain and its arts have become quite a farce. And I'm not even kidding. Where once the Lords of England were admired for their command of circumstance in word, today they are mere jesters approved for the comedy of the masses. Western Civilization, I shit you not, is on the brink. And I ain't even kidding... just wait five years... then we will reconsider this situation...
Writing Sample
Because of my location, this is bound to be "Old Kingdom" work. Nevertheless, here's a writing sample of mine:
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Shango in Atlantis
There were giants in the earth in those days. Akhenaton, the father of Greece, had successfully waged his coup de tat. It was a master piece. We should have known, watching from the stars, how it would end. But it was too tempting to remain in the dark. The first piece moved was, as expected, the King’s God-daughter. No cries of “checkmate” no spontaneous laughter. Just a gallop. The Knight had done something and no one knew what.
“What is he doing?”
“He says he is about to massacre the Principality.”
Athon-aiye or “Athons” as it was called had solved the riddle. If the Israel could find a home while Rah-Mozes chased infidels down the Nile, escaping in the middle of the darkness, headed towards the lady who brought a bucket of honey and the promise of milk, then so could the Citadel. Her name, if we should be accurate, was Naftare, the goddess of Excellence in Scholarship.
“How much can you get from a cow?”
“Leather, weaponry, meat, even a chieftaincy title.”
“Chief Oba-Shongo, it is good to see you sir.”
“General…”
“He says general with a j…”
It was clear to all those who knew that the New Oba-Oba was the no-nonsense type. He smiled incessantly, even while his enemies were transmogrified by the presence of a sword in their bellies. He did this so that no one would misunderstand. This was serious business.
The Urhobo traced their lineage in order to determine how they would find their Father, the commoner known as Imhotep. Imhotep was a commoner because he never became bored enough to insert sheep semen in his family line like subsequent Pharaohs—including but not limited to the one who sold his only daughter into prostitution to furnish her skyscraper. She asked for it, he said, as though a father has the prerogative to not say “no” when the request is inordinate.
“Sobo and Sohwo.”
“Zobo and Zokho”
“Zouba and Zokhoto”
“Zou-Zou”
Aminattu of Zazzau was revered for her insight. She knew every fleet by the time she was seven. When she was eleven she had become, and this is no joke, the Principal Advisor to the Counselor of War. He would sit, late into the night as the moon painted the sky blood-red and listen to her hypothesize.
“Move the fleet off the coast of China to the coast of China” she said, “…and your days shall be plenty.”
“My days are already plenty,” I responded, not irritated but piqued. Why should she suggest that war was the only state of nationhood? If it is true that the less civilized were amongst us, then they were also around us. Might we murder them justly if, and this was the notion, they could not solve the riddle as my daughter had by the time she was eleven?
The birth of the Vietcong gave no one pause for thought. Hidden Dragon Crouching Tiger was the original. The Matrix was a sound byte. Neo was not the one. And Big Trouble was afoot in little China.
“Oba-Shongo is a bush man…”
“His grandfather was from Yemen…”
Ancient Oyo and Songhai were ready for battle. One against the other. Who knew the prophesy knew that Oyo would eventually rise again, just as in the days before Athon-aiye became the Principality of Herodotus, a man who scholarshipped Ga’ez and the Apostle Solon in the ways of resistance. It was the way in which Otolorin, swordsman of Oduduwa, could be resurrected “…if needs be” as Siezr the Younger had said.
“The Sieze…”
“Watch how he does it…”
“There can only be one motion now…”
“This is why it’s called Roam…”
True to his word he annexed the entire world for three hundred years and was known as Jah-Heru-Methu-Islam-Alekum because he did so with a smile and a wink. I, I just smiled incessantly as we plundered the stomach of the man who did not understand that Jibril was not one to be toyed with. Gah-Gah-Biri-al Suleiman, who knew how to divide a circle into seven parts before he was six was a tyrant, to be sure, and this is why we insert his name in the Book of Life—for he was not a Sage, Scholar, Prophet or King. He was the son of a city called Ggodd, a land buried deep in the core of the urth, spewing forth masses of men and women who, when they came to their senses, began to question that Ggodd existed.
“Where are we now?”
“We are on top of seven hills.”
“Juju…”
“Himself.”
The Arubala had been laid to rest and the people were now restless. What was I to do?
“Need I kill you immediately?”
“I’m not in the mood today, darling.”
“Yemoja you have not aroused my lust in six weeks.”
“You are impotent and wretched.”
“Your sagging breasts remind me of my childhood.”
“Your next visitor will be impaled.”
“Guards! Send the next visitor to the guestroom. I will visit him alone!”
“Do I arouse you now?”
“I need a drop of blood.”
“Wine!”
“Your Excellency, the bats are not yet ripe.”
Abimelek was sitting strangely. He was a reflection of me, they said, but his eyes wondered so. They say he had knighted the American. If this was true… if this was true…
“Oba Adefunmi wishes to know why you have said this thing.”
“He thought about saying no to my request for his land.”
“He wishes to faint.”
“Lay him to sleep with his hands on his chest.”
“X!”
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Shango in Atlantis
There were giants in the earth in those days. Akhenaton, the father of Greece, had successfully waged his coup de tat. It was a master piece. We should have known, watching from the stars, how it would end. But it was too tempting to remain in the dark. The first piece moved was, as expected, the King’s God-daughter. No cries of “checkmate” no spontaneous laughter. Just a gallop. The Knight had done something and no one knew what.
“What is he doing?”
“He says he is about to massacre the Principality.”
Athon-aiye or “Athons” as it was called had solved the riddle. If the Israel could find a home while Rah-Mozes chased infidels down the Nile, escaping in the middle of the darkness, headed towards the lady who brought a bucket of honey and the promise of milk, then so could the Citadel. Her name, if we should be accurate, was Naftare, the goddess of Excellence in Scholarship.
“How much can you get from a cow?”
“Leather, weaponry, meat, even a chieftaincy title.”
“Chief Oba-Shongo, it is good to see you sir.”
“General…”
“He says general with a j…”
It was clear to all those who knew that the New Oba-Oba was the no-nonsense type. He smiled incessantly, even while his enemies were transmogrified by the presence of a sword in their bellies. He did this so that no one would misunderstand. This was serious business.
The Urhobo traced their lineage in order to determine how they would find their Father, the commoner known as Imhotep. Imhotep was a commoner because he never became bored enough to insert sheep semen in his family line like subsequent Pharaohs—including but not limited to the one who sold his only daughter into prostitution to furnish her skyscraper. She asked for it, he said, as though a father has the prerogative to not say “no” when the request is inordinate.
“Sobo and Sohwo.”
“Zobo and Zokho”
“Zouba and Zokhoto”
“Zou-Zou”
Aminattu of Zazzau was revered for her insight. She knew every fleet by the time she was seven. When she was eleven she had become, and this is no joke, the Principal Advisor to the Counselor of War. He would sit, late into the night as the moon painted the sky blood-red and listen to her hypothesize.
“Move the fleet off the coast of China to the coast of China” she said, “…and your days shall be plenty.”
“My days are already plenty,” I responded, not irritated but piqued. Why should she suggest that war was the only state of nationhood? If it is true that the less civilized were amongst us, then they were also around us. Might we murder them justly if, and this was the notion, they could not solve the riddle as my daughter had by the time she was eleven?
The birth of the Vietcong gave no one pause for thought. Hidden Dragon Crouching Tiger was the original. The Matrix was a sound byte. Neo was not the one. And Big Trouble was afoot in little China.
“Oba-Shongo is a bush man…”
“His grandfather was from Yemen…”
Ancient Oyo and Songhai were ready for battle. One against the other. Who knew the prophesy knew that Oyo would eventually rise again, just as in the days before Athon-aiye became the Principality of Herodotus, a man who scholarshipped Ga’ez and the Apostle Solon in the ways of resistance. It was the way in which Otolorin, swordsman of Oduduwa, could be resurrected “…if needs be” as Siezr the Younger had said.
“The Sieze…”
“Watch how he does it…”
“There can only be one motion now…”
“This is why it’s called Roam…”
True to his word he annexed the entire world for three hundred years and was known as Jah-Heru-Methu-Islam-Alekum because he did so with a smile and a wink. I, I just smiled incessantly as we plundered the stomach of the man who did not understand that Jibril was not one to be toyed with. Gah-Gah-Biri-al Suleiman, who knew how to divide a circle into seven parts before he was six was a tyrant, to be sure, and this is why we insert his name in the Book of Life—for he was not a Sage, Scholar, Prophet or King. He was the son of a city called Ggodd, a land buried deep in the core of the urth, spewing forth masses of men and women who, when they came to their senses, began to question that Ggodd existed.
“Where are we now?”
“We are on top of seven hills.”
“Juju…”
“Himself.”
The Arubala had been laid to rest and the people were now restless. What was I to do?
“Need I kill you immediately?”
“I’m not in the mood today, darling.”
“Yemoja you have not aroused my lust in six weeks.”
“You are impotent and wretched.”
“Your sagging breasts remind me of my childhood.”
“Your next visitor will be impaled.”
“Guards! Send the next visitor to the guestroom. I will visit him alone!”
“Do I arouse you now?”
“I need a drop of blood.”
“Wine!”
“Your Excellency, the bats are not yet ripe.”
Abimelek was sitting strangely. He was a reflection of me, they said, but his eyes wondered so. They say he had knighted the American. If this was true… if this was true…
“Oba Adefunmi wishes to know why you have said this thing.”
“He thought about saying no to my request for his land.”
“He wishes to faint.”
“Lay him to sleep with his hands on his chest.”
“X!”
Nigerian Writing
I'm soooooo glad I escaped that world and its pretentiousness. Nigerian writing is circumscribed by the aura of Wole Soyinka. Boooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooring. Get it. Why do people respond to my work with such laughter and fanfare? Because it is not boring, like most Nigerian writing.
And that their poetry... gousha... what misery. Now there are noteworthy Nigerian writers. Of them only Ben Okri has any sort of hope of transcending the crap they are churning out, praised by the Lords and fools of England. You just don't know... you just don't know..
And that their poetry... gousha... what misery. Now there are noteworthy Nigerian writers. Of them only Ben Okri has any sort of hope of transcending the crap they are churning out, praised by the Lords and fools of England. You just don't know... you just don't know..
Where is my art?
I'm being honest, there are not many writers in Western history that I consider peers, in so far as story development goes. I am told that my forte is complexity in familial relationships--epics really--so I'm homeresque in that sense. It is a true story, that I am telling you, that high ranking members of the literatti cognoscenti consider my potential homeresque. On the one hand, what does that really mean today? But on the other hand it is humbling. My current works, studying African American males, are now running into over a thousand pages, so by the time I blossom with them, we're talking massive volume, probably five to ten thousand pages, of stream of consciousness writing leading to appreciably developed characters for whatever story (novel, play etc) comes out of it. I don't take my gifts for granted. At any given time I can bombard anyone with five thousand pages of high quality and very witty writing, so I believe what they say about my potential. I only have to reconcile living on earth and having the talent I do but not being famous, which I will fight against with every fibre of being. Why bear the burden of fame if I already get the perks? Fame is the very psychosis I don't want. Ask the famous.
Fame
When I was a child I used to aspire to fame. What a foolish dream. These days I've avoided it as much as I can, while still enjoying most of its benefits--especially deferential treatment from police people. But I have the talent to be world-famous. So what does that mean? I don't want to be famous, don't care for it in the leastest! But I do love the perks... meaning that so long as I continue to develop my talents, the higher ups will ensure that I continue to live the life of the famous. You just don't know how developed my art currently is, is why you show such lack of respect, you monkey. I've done the math. I am up there in the art world o. I'm a "high value" artist on earth. The only thing I'd use that to do is to get close to Sade and date her. Otherwise, it is meaningful only to those with the capacity to comprehend the quality of the spheres within which we now reside.
RE; Sade (Between you and Me)
I used to grumble to my higher ups that this "oybibo" girl would be disturbing me, asking me "what does that mean" every two seconds! I'm a very private person, and in the reality of those who know art, some consider me the Sade. Sade, then, to me, is merely a lovely inconvenience... but I do love her much...
Sade
Well, here it is. Do I know Sade Adu? Does she know me? The answer to that question requires context. For several months before the Lover's Live concert I made known to certain folks that I believed I was in conversation with Sade Adu. During the Lover's Live concert I came to believe that it was true that I was in conversation with Sade Adu. That's the extent of it. She is a popular star whom every sane man desires. So disputing any conversation between myself and Sade Adu would be par for the course. So those people did. Now, when they did, dispute this conversation, I said nothing. I was either right or wrong. Either way, whether or not we were discussing before Lover's Live, there is a great probability that because of my performance in certain cyber venues, she is aware of me now, and that I consider her special in my life. This is as much as I believe is relevant to say about that. HOWEVER, if were WERE discussing before Lover's Live, then the thing we were discussing is very ticklish to me. And that's as much as I'll say about that. Do I believe I was in discussion with Sade. Of course. That's a no-brainer. Did Lover's Live reinforce this meaningfully? Another no-brainer. Sade fans will get it. I was the idiot supposed to bring flowers this time. And I... we almost made it. Believe it or not, that night of the Sade concert, all levels of law enforcement were working together to ensure a smooth concert and delivery of flowers to the lady. I just messed up on time. But she made note of certain things on stage and that's that. But so what?
Well, Sade is an Ibadan girl, functionally. I'm Ibadan's highest artist. It seems plausible to me that, in searching for her identity, the Universe would bring us together... I'll leave it at that, until I'm famous in the mainstream, and not merely amongst analysts who monitor potential threats... to the Federation...
Well, Sade is an Ibadan girl, functionally. I'm Ibadan's highest artist. It seems plausible to me that, in searching for her identity, the Universe would bring us together... I'll leave it at that, until I'm famous in the mainstream, and not merely amongst analysts who monitor potential threats... to the Federation...
The Sade Effect
There is only one woman on earth who pulls at my heart. Sade Adu. Knowing that it will never be, that she will never be my woman physically, is very relaxing. In this way when I see her or a picture of her or an image of her, when my heart skips a beat I know it's true love that will never be. And it's not such a bad gig. Sade is owned by the world, and no matter how deep my pyschosis tells me is the acquaintanship, probably even friendship, that we share, she will always be a pop star owned by the world. That said, I recall that I was once so physically attractive to a woman that I had on her the "Sade effect." This chick could not cease looking at me. I was then about, I suspect, 193 pounds, thin and easy, and very handsome. When a person puts on weight beyond their natural bounds they become deformed. So, for now, sixty pounds overweight, I'm not nearly as handsome (though bigger women find me very very sexually apropos right now, and some are getting aggressive... I tell you I've learned the secret of holding out, but that-'s another story). For now I just want to return to 193 pounds and proper stature, then I can explore this Sade effect. For one like me, who never knew that the energy flow could be the other way, that beautiful women could feel for me the same way I thought I only could feel for them is a learning experience. There's no shame in growth, there's no shame in understanding male-female relationships better. The shame is in exploiting the situation... I don't, never have, and won't.
When I do return to the social
I thought I had stories by 2003. But now when I do return to the social, probably early 2008, boy will I be a profound character. It is funny to say it and see it, but I already know. People are attracted to me because they sense depth. But the depth is bottomless now, after my experiences over the past 3 years. So... I'm looking forward to it. My goals in life are two fold. 1) A LARGE kitchen and 2) A jaccuzzi. The large kitchen often comes with a home as well as the jaccuzzi. I am against home ownership under the current pack of lies holding the constitution together so I will have to get around that. But my life consists of quiet evenings, dinners, conversations, and quiet but meaninful performances demonstrating the current level of art in the Nigerian. O ga. It is all I look forward to. A man who calls me "mighty man" says that if that is my dream, then I might as well spend the rest of my energy dreaming a second dream. It is easy to achieve. But then, why should dreams be impossible. A big kitchen it is!
The Awon Boyz
In a country like Nigeria, vanity is everything. The aesthetic rules, despite the obvious lack of it environmentally. So, huddled in feculence, alpha-males show off their latest... jeans... and boots... and wristwatches... and collared shirts... is really what it is. They are stylish, it is true, and very commanding, so that young boys growing up internalize an aggregated image of the kind of awon boy they want to be when they, too, are enabled. I became a superior awon boy when I was in college, away from Nigeria. Called a legend by outsiders who heard of my exploits, I was very aware that in the year 1996 I was the "seniorest boy" on campus. Compared to now those days are negligble. So how does it feel to be an awon boy of note in the world? It's tickling. I can get lost in other people's appreciation of me and mentally masturbate for hours, making people laugh through the sharing of my experiences, pausing only long enough for my greatness to be obvious to a dying world. Alas, I spend my awonboyhood with outlaws and Masons. We, it turns out, have serious work to do.
Jade of Babylon
My profile is one of a person who avoids conflict and does what is necessary for peace to prevail. It is why I suppose it took my profilers off guard when I suddenly began to initate conflict at an expert level. As is, it is currently very difficult for me to be connected to my previous social support structure from Nigeria. I have initiated expert level (protocoled) conflict with key players in this realm and with good reason. I am a card-carrying Westerner. I have made my decision. It does not mean that being a dual-citizen of Nigeria and the U.S. is enough. Certainly not. Like Adama says, "I'm replacing my roots." So I've set out on this explorer's journey, leaving my family and social structures behind because I do not agree with them fundamentally on a moral basis. As for my expertize in conflicts, my prior life was a ruse. I am a warrior by nature. I just needed space to materialize, to be honest about how much energy I'd expend changing what I didnt' like about the world in which I live, or being the change.
One of the things that has come about as a direct result of this conflict is a female figure by the name of Jade of Babylon. To me, Jade represents the face of the girlfriend or wife I will be satisfied with. That, with a few things rearranged here and there, I could be dating the real Jade is interesting. But that's not what I'm looking for. I just wanted Olodumare to prove to me that I can get married to a woman whose depth would show in her beauty. Jade Cole's does, so Olodumare has proved his point. It IS possible. I just have to have faith. Otherwise, so many women are now calling me it is impossible not to consider life as a lover. A real one.
One of the things that has come about as a direct result of this conflict is a female figure by the name of Jade of Babylon. To me, Jade represents the face of the girlfriend or wife I will be satisfied with. That, with a few things rearranged here and there, I could be dating the real Jade is interesting. But that's not what I'm looking for. I just wanted Olodumare to prove to me that I can get married to a woman whose depth would show in her beauty. Jade Cole's does, so Olodumare has proved his point. It IS possible. I just have to have faith. Otherwise, so many women are now calling me it is impossible not to consider life as a lover. A real one.
Woman Palava
There is something very primal about having a serious relationship with a lady in her thirties who is from the same environment as you. I have friends who are addicts to this thing, and so very bad spies. We call them "whores" or "chickenheads" because they are the backbone of the inner-net. Get it. But there were a couple of ladies in my life with whom such a thing was a possibility. It is a very pleasurable thing, I ought to inform you, a lady in her thirties. It is their prime. Long ago, in my twenties, we used to chase ladies in their forties to join the "club" of youngins who had sugarmommies. They still look good to me now, even some ladies in their fifties and sixties. But I have found that women in their thirties are prime. So I have the next seven years to explore that. I love it to death, meeting these women. And they seem to enjoy my company. I'm certain it's because I've spent all these years learning not to be shallow. But the two or three Nigerian women chosen for me to frollick with in their thirties ended up being disappointments. Nigerian women, between you and I, have issues. But there are stellar ones so I'll keep the faith. Other than that I'm enjoying women of other cultures tremendously. Tremendously.
Of Women and Mice
I've been functionally celibate for, oh, 8 years or so. I'm like any other man, but at the moments of decision I feel superhuman. I found out, in '99, that a certain sort of woman found me very sexually attractive and handsome. When it became consistent, then I sought to see if amongst these women were some of the ones I'd consider supreme physical beauties, regardless of inner concerns. Indeed, some of the women who find me sexy are some of the more beautiful you'll find in this era. It is why I am patient. I am working hard on my internals, my inner beauty. I've been doing so for the past 8 years. The outer beauty is just a matter of exercise and good diet. I'll get that back in one year, guaranteed.
Well, there's this girl who is quite pretty. Evidently she is intrigued by me and, evidently, may not be uncomfortable in the least having me as a prime male figure in her life. Initially I didn't take her seriously. I'm her guardian angel (in the arts I'm a guardian angel) so I just carried her to where her destiny was leading her (she's some sort of jazz star in the future). Well, by December it became apparent to me that she was very seriously considering making me a part of her life. Is the way I read it. I still didn't take her seriously. Now she gets in touch and tells me she's going through rough time, that the current man in her life took her for granted, blah blah. Why did this make me begin to take her seriously? I haven't the foggiest. The irony consists of the fact that over the past few days I have been very clear about my priorities, of which such a female companion is not one. And yet I now often think of this lady, sexually... why? What will happen? It is hard to predict, since we are becoming close friends... but she and I were not meant to be an item. I'm way too "old" a spirit for her right now. She has a lot of growing to do. The sad thing is that she, obviously, is to be a phenomenal woman in the future, when she gets to her thirties. I probably wont' be around to tap into that then... it is why, I suspect, I'm forcing myself to take her seriously now... I don't think I should.
Well, there's this girl who is quite pretty. Evidently she is intrigued by me and, evidently, may not be uncomfortable in the least having me as a prime male figure in her life. Initially I didn't take her seriously. I'm her guardian angel (in the arts I'm a guardian angel) so I just carried her to where her destiny was leading her (she's some sort of jazz star in the future). Well, by December it became apparent to me that she was very seriously considering making me a part of her life. Is the way I read it. I still didn't take her seriously. Now she gets in touch and tells me she's going through rough time, that the current man in her life took her for granted, blah blah. Why did this make me begin to take her seriously? I haven't the foggiest. The irony consists of the fact that over the past few days I have been very clear about my priorities, of which such a female companion is not one. And yet I now often think of this lady, sexually... why? What will happen? It is hard to predict, since we are becoming close friends... but she and I were not meant to be an item. I'm way too "old" a spirit for her right now. She has a lot of growing to do. The sad thing is that she, obviously, is to be a phenomenal woman in the future, when she gets to her thirties. I probably wont' be around to tap into that then... it is why, I suspect, I'm forcing myself to take her seriously now... I don't think I should.
Artistic Compromise
Since I became a functional adult in the U.S. it occurs to me that I have not comprised on any matters significant to my artistic expression, among other things. Compromises are the root cause of civilizations crumbling. My symbol, in this era, is Quincy Jones, whose compromises have allowed hip-hop to dominate the psyche of those who would be better served studying the complex beauty that Q created in the 60s, 70s, and 80s. His sin, as with most of these (a number of whom I now consider more than acquaintances), was trying to remain relevant in pop culture. Allow nature to decide. American pop culture IS decadent. But it wasn't always so, even when the east was fiercely criticizing it for such and initiating an unjust war (Mr. Carter)... the war was initiated first on their side... I often wonder how to talk to these dinosaurs who lived in a time when intelligence was not a rainbow.
Truth
Although it is not accurately reflected in this blog, for those interested in what I have to say I have, over the past three or four days, found a way to tell as much of the Truth as precision makes possible. Because it is dense matter, it takes a lot of traversal in time for me to be precise about the things I have witnessed. The summary is that American Civilization stands a real risk of being superceded by up-and-coming and more creative concerns. American contemporary art is soooooooooo bad and cliched and immature and boring it moves me to tears, quite literarilly. I hope this serves as a wake up call. That aside...
Wednesday, February 21, 2007
How Reparations Work
For those of us descended, obviously, from a creative spirit native to the earthian environment, we realize that justice and reparations are sometimes, if not often, simulated by the franchising of the (previously encumbered) creative outlets of a people. I am one such person clearly meant to act in a role required to assist African Americans, for example, get beyond the question of slavery, or Africans get beyond the matter of colonialism. But the people whom I am supposed to help don't get it, that I am currency now, that people like me are content and thus money. So I move on. I do my art for the elite who, after all, have the most at stake. If the poor are too stupid to get it, then I'll get paid by the rich. Get it.
African Futility
In honest hearts the future of Africa is unknown. Lurking in that darkness is the notion of "when" not "if". No nation can sustain such non-productivity for any reasonable amount of time. No nation can sustain a lack of sovereignty for so long without initiating a natural war to serve its cause and change its leadership. Africa is due and I'm not sympathetic to the Africans. The levels of immaturity are so startling I often wonder why. Truly wonder why. I have friends who have considered themselves, in hubris, to be high-level players in the new world, jet-setting across the world thinking themselves relevant. Most of these went to top-notch schoolz and learned, only, to be part of the Western Structure and System. So they play their parts but their depths are irrelevant and breadth willfully negligible. Some things are obvious. Without quality of life productivity is a no-go. Qol in Africa requires only consistent electric power, good plumbing and pipe borne water, and decent roads to transport goods and services, coupled, of course, with communications infrastructure foundational for all business. Why don't these my friends spend any energy lobbying for these things? They are without the bounds of their expertize. So like Okonjo-Iweala they claim to have reduced debt or kept inflation at check when the only thing we can truly say about the Nigerian economy since 1983 is that inflation is at 100%. Do you know what that means for a country?
I'm sure you don't.... figure it out.
I'm sure you don't.... figure it out.
Tuesday, February 20, 2007
Razor on Eddie
"Now ee'r bahdy loved Eddie, dig? He wudn't like them suckers up in the sur-burbs, dig? He was cool. He knew what it wuz? See, we all loved him cuz he was a real nigguah, see? Now you dont' find that many cats from the 'burbs who be that way."
Jesus and Barabas
Now, because the "gospel truth" was written by disciples of Jesus we cannot take them as gospel accounts of the truth. They were not impartial. Aggregationally, Jesus was criticized for claiming descendency from righteousness because of the company he kept. He fraternized with members of the underworld. In time, as in life, he was mistaken for a thief and tradition insisted that he be given a chance for reprieve in this democracy. The people chose wrong and a man who hung out with low-lifes and the underworld got what comes to people who take such risks. His middle class status was relinquished and he shamed his family by dying the humiliating death of an armed-robber on the cross. And yet this man today commands the psyche of two billion people. I have marvelled that such a dull story has this weight in any theater, but I am told such is the lot of the people of this colony. They call her Earth.
Eddie as Jesus in the Psyche
It is the story that affects humanity most, an innocent man put to death having been betrayed by acts of ommission of those who knew the truth but who, in coming forward to testify, would be signing their own death warrants. So Eddie died for their sins. So they placed him in myth to honor him. For even amongst thieves... there is honor. Eddie Money, King of the Pimps. R.I.P.
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