Long Count

As a species of animal, the human race is born of, and rooted to, the earth—yet with our eyes fixed upon the stars.  

Still, many of us are limited in what we see and understand, still clouded by a shell of superstition and ignorance. The sciences should not stay elevated to the elite priests and shamans of technology, with jargon and techniques that leave the masses bewildered, or complacent in their short-sighted ignorance. Rather, we should promote the long count of knowledge with an eye to countering religious superstition and focus our energies to the benefit of our planet and its future.

The Mayan long count calendar has restarted. So should the calendar of humankind, starting a true age of enlightenment.

Above, Tullio Pericoli — Beneath the Stars — 1985

Zoom to School Over the Cloudlets

When I was a kid, inventors were all the rage. That's probably the case for all kids in all generations, but really, the 'space age' was the age of the future. Things had to be invented for the future to unfold the way it was being predicted. I would sit in church and daydream all the inventions that would make life more interesting.

One of the inspirations for wild daydreams was an inventor by the name of Gyro Gearloose, who usually invented just what was needed to solve a problem for his clientele. Sometimes he had to whack himself in the head and see stars and then invent something while in a delirium. I think that probably kicked his right brain into gear, while his left brain worked on automatic pilot.

Carl Barks — Gyro Gearloose — 1960

There are inventors and there are tweakers. The tweakers are forever noodling with a great invention, to try to improve it and change it gradually into something else. Sometimes it's changed into a complicated  gadget that basically does what the original invention did, but takes the fun out of the early concept. 

Airplanes have gone from barn-storming jennies that any adventurous soul could master to ultra-complex ultra-sonic jet fuel guzzling monster birds that can only be piloted by specialists with years of dedicated training.

Cars used to be sweet little contraptions with great diverse looks, that the owner could tinker with and fix problems and even replace a carburetor if needed. Now cars all look like one another and need specialized mechanics to hook the car's computer up to a diagnostic computer and then adjust components to just the right micro-tolerence.

Computers and the internet were once the domain of geeks bearing slide-rules (remember those?) and then finally reached a level where ol' grandma and you and I could figure out how to operate them and accomplish things with 'em. But there's always a new software, a new OS, a new plug-in gadget, all of them needing learning curves, special chargers, special training. Platforms that won't talk to each other without buying a special translator program, or things that you'd like to program or download, but nope, it's only for Microsoft, or nope, only for Mac. Oh, that great cutting edge computer that you bought last year? It's phased out, nearly obsolete, time to buy a new one, oh a new and improved one that does all the things the other one did, but it's been tweaked so that you have to learn new protocols and procedures.

Blogging was a great invention, a way for every person to communicate and publish, but now there's all kinds of options and decisions, hidden costs (ah, yes, extra storage), and just when you're comfortable with the program you're using, they imPROVE it, so that it does the same basic thing as always, but give you new learning curves, changing the look just for the sake of change.

It used to be that I could just whack myself in the head and see stars and kick my right brain into gear while my left brain worked on automatic pilot and blog, blog, blog for the fun of it for you and I. Now my left brain is in charge, trying to figure out which icon to click, which size to make each image, what unfamiliar color will work for the text, yada yada.

Change for change's sake, that's what inventing is about anymore.

URF

EC Segar

I am disgustipated with change just for the sake of change. This blogger thing was something I could just do on automatic pilot, knowing the routine of the steps to put the posts up. Now I have to stop and think and rethink each step, thanks to this new interface. Even once I get used to it, I'm not going to get used to it. I liked the old interface better! I held off till the last possible moment to have to go to this interface, thinking that maybe the blogger folks were rethinking their retooling. But no. Why they couldn't just add great features to the old interface is beyond me.

Urf. What with my major deadline, I don't think I'll be posting much, esPECIALly because I don't have time to mess with this change.

UPDATE: Good gosh, I can't even get the text to come out in the right color. I yam thoroughly disgustipated.

Comic Book Characters

Okay, so we know there are no super villains in real life (other than the corporate thugs that already rule the planet), and any individuals who have delusions that they can be super villain copycats are quickly put in their place by law enforcement.

But let's take a few minutes here to enter into the 'DC Universe' and take a look at some of the super villains that have been in residence there for a long time, even through all the reboots.

Neal Adams/Dick Giordano — DC's Super Villains — 1970s

I look at the depictions of super villains differently now that real life has been haunted by one of those copycat killers. It now doesn't seem as interesting or fun to see their stories unfold. In the world of comic book fantasy, they seem more evil and dangerous than ever before. I want comic book justice to deliver a final lockdown, so that these villains cannot keep escaping again and again.

Let's take a closer look at the DC criminals in the above rendering from the '70s, a high point for comic book storytelling. There are sixteen individuals shown, all classified as 'super' villains, yet not one really has a 'super' power, though one or two have magical powers. They are megalomaniacs who have adopted a persona to feed their egos as they satisfy their greed. Even though they're shown here in a group, they rarely work together to meet objectives. When they do, they are ready to abandon their cause at the earliest convenience, with probably a knife in somebody's back.

Out of the sixteen, eleven of them are smiling. But they're not happy smiles. They are grim and arrogant smiles, perhaps while thinking of their ill-gotten gains. At least two, maybe three are the leering smiles of the psychopathic insane. Many of this group laugh a lot, but only when gloating over people in pain and misery.

The floating fellow was once a likeable mischief maker who grew evil over the years, finally murdering most of the silver age Superman's loved ones in a rampage of horror.

One of those fellows is there with his daughter, having seduced her into his campaign to destroy most of humankind on earth so that he and she can save the earth from homicidal tendencies of humankind.

One is an arrogant simian who thinks that he's smarter than everyone else, so to hell with everyone else. Several of these miscreants are just plain thieving thugs, who have learned to control weather, and mirrors, and puzzles, and Frigidaires just to own the biggest diamond or the most bullion.

One of these guys has learned to master fear, to strike humankind at its mental roots, causing unimaginable fear to drive them insane. Basically, a terrorist.

A couple are mad scientists — one who is compensating for his ugliness and short stature, and the other who is capable of curing cancer and eradicating world hunger, but instead uses his scientific genius to cause pain and suffering. Both are the only bald ones in the bunch, hmmm.

That's a nice Tiffanyish lamp they have dangling there over their poker table. I can't imagine any of these people bought it, even though they have a gazantajillion stolen dollars. Why have all that money when they don't want to spend it on anything that they can steal. It's a mystery.

And then there's this one:

She is not evil or demented. She has a soft spot for the underdog and could almost work on the side of justice, but for her weakness and passion for shiny baubles that she can't afford. Still, a thug is a thug is a thug.

I could go on and on, but these are only characters in comic books. They demonstrate that crime doesn't pay, that there is not infamy for murderous megalomaniacs. They're not role models for society's dropouts and misfits.

They're just comic book characters.

Ever-Vigilant

Neal Adams/Dick Giordano — Batman & Robin — 1970s

This soapbox philosophy has been voiced a lot recently, but it bears repeating until we get beyond preaching to the choir:

In our real world, there is no Batman patrolling the rooftops of our chaotic life. There are no superheroes ever-vigilant for uprising evil. There are no supervillains creeping out from the sewers.

In our real world, of course there ARE heroes, ever-vigilant and there ARE creeping villains. But the heroes are US, the villains are US. WE must be ever-vigilant to protect the innocent. WE must make the choice to be anything but a villain.

We cannot stop bullets and violence with our Batarangs, our invulnerable skin, our Amazon bracelets, our magic conjuring. We CAN stop bullets & violence with legislation, education and wise foresight.

We must not be complacent and let mayhem occur again and again. We must buckle down and do the right thing, now and always:

Protect the innocent!

Our Opinion

Speaking of the Summer Olympics opening ceremony, it's time to do a little Monday morning quarterbacking on Sunday afternoon. How in the world did Danny Boyle think it was a great idea to celebrate belching smokestacks as part of the greatness of Britain?

Heinrich Kley — Devilish Stench — ca 1900

I would have thought that Kenneth Branagh would have leaped at the chance to portray Shakespeare himself, come forward to celebrate modern Britannia and quote pithy utterances on our modern world, as it leaped and cavorted around him.

Two more critiques (though I could offer so many) and then I'll shut up. Both of these come from my wife:

Wouldn't it have been so much more effective to have the whole string of bicyclists with wings take flight in a spiral and form a circle of light high in the air?

And second, since the Beatles can never come together again, wouldn't it have been great to have the Rolling Stones performing Jumping Jack Flash, with lighted bungee dancers leaping and sparking all around? Bless Paul's heart, but hey, Jude?

I wish Danny had called us in for our opinion. I know Russia won't.

Relevance

The victims of the movie shooting are in my deepest thoughts and concerns. I hesitate to blog any more about the tragedy for fear of exploiting it. Yet, if I ignore it and move on with meaningless trivialities, I fear that I'm shrugging my shoulders and saying tsk tsk, life goes on. Yet of course, the latter is what we all must do at some point, because, well, life DOES go on. But not yet.

My intent is not to exploit, but to find relevance to society's task, however trite and minor my points may be.

We know we must guide society's beliefs and attitudes, and we know that to do that we must begin with ourselves. The majority of the citizens of the world are decent, caring and altruistic, with various degrees of intelligence, and most are smart enough to know 'the right thing' from 'the wrong thing'. Acting on that knowing is not always easy, but most of us make the effort to 'do the right thing'.

How do we reach those that are making the wrong choice, doing the wrong things?

Many of us say 'love', and that's a great answer. Many of us love ourselves enough to have an abundance of love for our families, our friends and neighbors, and love enough to feel good will toward strangers and whole populations we will never meet.

But love isn't enough. Our love is concentrated on protecting those around us. And we can't love the people who won't be loved, those that roam the hidden cracks of our society alone and brooding with terrible plans.

How do we reach those lost souls intent on sharing their pain and misery with others?

We don't.

It's not our job, 99.9% of us. Those who deal with mental problems and people with ill intent are hard at work doing their job of reaching and helping those individuals before they explode in our midst. Sometimes people slip through the cracks, of which there are many, and can only then be stopped by those who have the immediate opportunity.

It is up to each of us to spread benevolence, kindness, compassion, understanding, and yes, love, wherever we can. But especially toward those young ones who are coming into this confusing world of ours. And we need to go further. We need to question ourselves, our values, to see what is important in this world.

Is it really important to shop as much as we do, to own as much as we do, to fritter away our energies in pointless pursuits? "Pointless" pursuits. That does NOT include things like fun or relaxation. "Play" is not pointless, playing with our young teaches them wonderful things.

Is it really important to always rush around as we do? To waste time on the rushing and not spend it on worthwhile pursuits—spreading understanding of the finer concepts of our lives?

Sharing the joys of art and science and philosophy and spirit?

Spirit. There is great spirit afoot. Legions of wonderful people with wonderful passions are spreading their spirit. Teachers and dancers and musicians and technical wizards and writers and mothers and fathers and so many caring dedicated old souls.

The spirit must spread further. It must dissipate ignorance and superstition (I include much of 'religion' in that category—but that's another whole sermon on my part). Spirit must include all, permeate all so that pointless pursuits become pursuits of meaning, of substance.

All this idealistic meandering on my part accomplishes little for any of you. But in meditating out loud, so to speak, it sharpens my focus on what is important in my life, and sets me on a path of discovery. If we all are on similar paths, and we collaborate, what might we accomplish together?

. . .

The item below is too cheerful in appearance for this time of mourning, but the message is relevant in its own way and is indicative of past efforts to raise awareness, what the self can be.

from Batman comics — 1940s

Wake Up, America!

A message from a different time for a different reason, but still a relevant call.

James Montgomery Flagg — Wake Up, America! — 1917

Society's Worst and Finest

As we all are, I am shocked and horrified at the taking of innocent lives at the Aurora movie theater, during the night. Beyond the carnage afflicted on our neighbors, this should be a turning point for people everywhere to draw a line in the blood and demand no more! In the long run, not with heightened security or to have other movie patrons 'shoot back' as some politicos have positioned.

Our society needs to address these problems at the very root of our collective psyche, the way each child is raised by the global village. Different attitudes and beliefs.

I'll stop there and express my deepest sympathy to those affected by this tragedy.

I'll also go on to show the images that I had planned for today, because they are expressions of humanity at its finest, the anniversary of the first manned lunar landing.

Robert McCall — First Manned Lunar Landing

Paul Calle — Neil Armstrong

Neil Armstrong, pre-astronaut as an X-15 test pilot

State of Mind

I'd like to explain the source of my state of mind in the last post. This is an image blog, but as it states in the header, it's also autobiographical in nature. I'm finding that an image isn't always equivalent to the proverbial thousand words. I believe that images and words work best together.

Unknown photographer and year

This image has been haunting my image morgue for years.

I've been spending a fair amount of time this summer with our daughter. I missed her deeply when she was at university last year, even though she was only an hour away by car. We each learned to keep our distance to allow growth and maturity (and she probably got something good out of it too).

It's wonderful, full of wonder, having her home—to talk with, to have fun with, to give me more than a hint of the adult she'll be when I'm long gone. We've watched a lot of DVDs together, crossing all genres of film-making. Even when a film goes awry in quality, we try to glean some of the positive values that by rights should be inherent if the army of talent involved in the making has utilized time, skill and money to bring it to our living room. Amazingly, I actually enjoyed Frank Miller's 'Sin City', something I never would have predicted.

Anyway, watching so many films, I have vicariously witnessed many acts of heroism, many despicable deeds of violence. I have flown among the clouds and the stars. I have seen transformations of many sorts — love into hate and vice versa, humans into animals, ignorance into understanding, sacrifice into survival, failure into success. Much of the experience has been inspirational and motivating.

And then I read the news.

Horrible events of crashes and collapses, fires and floods, snuffing out innocent lives. Spouses that murder each other, parents and children that murder each other. Young innocents that suddenly become Hitlers, intent on murdering other young innocents. Natural and man-failure disasters that kill hundreds or thousands with no mercy. Planes that fall from the sky. Drug cartels that wantonly slice and slaughter and deposit the results in town squares.

There are people plotting to destroy, people plotting to steal and scam, people with intent to enter our very homes and violate our persons and property.

Where is our movie heroism then? Where are The Avengers, The A-Team, Clint Eastwood and John Wayne? Where is the fortuitous coincidence that saves the day? Where are the clever writers that solve our problems in strange and subtle ways? Where is the soundtrack that throbs and soars mighty choruses of heaven as we heroically find the strength to get back up, even as we've been beaten into the ground? Where is the empathetic audience to witness our private tragedies and applaud our triumphs, great and small?

I sometimes ponder these sorts of self-defeating questions in the wee hours of the morning when the universe seems dark and uncaring. I rise in the morning full of hope and cheer, thinking maybe THIS is the day 'they' cure cancer. Maybe THIS day radio signals from space will be detected, proving that we are not alone. Perhaps THIS day people will accept that gay marriage is not only acceptable, but celebrated as an expression of love. That THIS day love will triumph over hate.

No, the headline is about Town Council debating what to do about homeless people sleeping in the parks. It's about the latest scandal of privileged rich people trying to be above the law. It's about coaches and priests violating the trust of children and parents.

The rest of the paper is about 'buy this, buy that' 'spend your money on useless crap and squander away time and energy looking at crap you can't afford.'

Okay, I'm really wallowing now, but you get the thread of my thought. And really, most of you have these same thoughts and feelings on various levels at various times.

What's to be done about it?

More next post.