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Archive for January, 2011

by Navarth

To understand the advent of the “postmodern” of our pre-galactic ancestors in Old Earth is no doubted abetted — but, to a point only — by a close reading of the fragments yet remaining to us, of Derida, Foucault, Vance; however, temporalities are first and last a matter, and the stuff, of image and Vision. The picture shown here thus emblemates — and, in absolute terms — the semiotics, peak and the apotheosis of the late-modern.

With sufficient contemplation in silence, nothing more need be said or written henceforward.

[Bodwyn Wook

[all rights revert to holders

[30 January 2011]

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Is It Just Me, Or…?

by Bodwyn Wook

Is it just me, or have others of our 1946-64 generation noticed this also, namely that since 1980 in our outer lives, in the streets and mauls and offices, in the stadiums and stripclubs and at the clinics, and down on the farm, nothing has changed?

[Bodwyn Wook

[all rights revert to holders

[30 January 2011]

 

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by ‘Abd al-‘Abru 

Late-modern western policy wonks are in a dither tonight over very possibly “losing” Egypt. 
     Still worse, they dread the loss of face in front of a rising China.  What shames above all is losing the investment of billions on billions in foreign aid, to “fundamentalism”.  Supporting the insupportable in foreign policy of course is the essence of  machiavellian diplomacy and has been so throughout the modern age.  But by still playing at this hopeless game, American diplomats show to the whole World worst of all their own anachronism.  In this third decade of postmodernity, self-styled credentialled Washington, DC, “elites” still (more…)

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“…[T]he state, even  when made up of three hundred million zeroes, cannot possibly add up to anything but one big fat Zero….”  (Jungian analyst Dr Wayness Tamm-Clattuc)

*****

by Wayness Tamm-Clattuc

Everyone has “the terrible secret of a lifetime” concealed in their past; in this context, mine is none of your affair of course as I am not running for any elected office, and I do not aspire to tell off everyone in the whole world or else be all things to all people.  Similarly, at least to the extent that you reading this preserve the oldtime middleclass amenities and the private idea, you are under no obligation to “tell all”.

We here are analyzing a public phenomenon, it is an article of public business and hence no question of the “impermissible” discussion of private mental contents can enter in.

Politicians as public figures because of the implicit vanity naturally set themselves up for much more searching treatment.  This is the more so as, increasingly, through such studies as depth psychology and the work of the sufis, we see that the political realm is an important mechanism for diverting the weaker personalities; it is to be into a realm of self-absorption where they in effect can keep themselves out of the way of (more…)

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by Emmett “Paul Harvey, RIP” Smith

In posting ones ongoing research lies the gift of…welcome contributions by other workers!

On 23 March 2009, I published in these online pp the following write-up on a couple of air-crashes in South Minneapolis that figure strongly in my childhood memories of the 1950s, there:

https://bodwyn.wordpress.com/2009/03/23/here-is-the-rest-of-the-story/

On Saturday, 15 January 2011, a commentor called “Givanchy” posted the following comment:

“Below you will find a chronological history detailing most of the events mentioned above, in addition you will find aircraft crashes in the Minneapolis area from 1920s to present day.”

http://www.google.com/search?q=history+of+minneapolis+plane+crashes&sourceid=ie7&rls=com.microsoft:en-US&ie=utf8&oe=utf8#q=history+of+minneapolis+plane+crashes&hl=en&sa=X&rls=com.microsoft:en-US&tbs=tl:1,tl_num:100&prmd=ivns&ei=nbgwTaO8AoqCsQPesvSIBg&ved=0CF8QywEoBA&fp=4ed60dfc8c66eaca

All I can say, Givanchy, is thank you! and a tip of the wookean lid to thee! 

This chronologically laid-out table of references following a Google reference-matrix is interesting to an archival researcher such as myself, because it does give much access to different aspects of aviation disaster-history in the metro, over much of the past ninety years.  It covers a gamut, with references to 1920s air racer “Speed” Holman, the April, 1979, fall for thousands of feet of a fully-laden passenger airliner before the pilot could recover stable flight, and the 1950s crashes looked into by me.  There are leads to many other air disaster and near-disaster stories, too.

[Bodwyn Wook

[all rights revert to holders

[17 January 2011]

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by Bodwyn Wook

As an actual conservative (this is spelt with a small “c”, lest I remind you), I am not at all happy with any of the “free speech” hysteria on the American rightwing, over the murders and murder-attempts in Tucson last week.

There is of course, always, the problem in political rhetoric of making appeals to the large number of moral and social idiots; to win votes, alas, it is necessary in very many cases to stir up emotion among these same televisionized and computerized unfortunates.

They are the miserably misled, lied-to and objectively God-damned, who of course must suffer in this world and the next.

So, I am not saying that we must give up on all this good old all-American fun for ever and ever.

To everything, however, there is a time and a place, and this of course is why there are gutters for sewage.

But there are also periods of extreme (more…)

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by Benny Raymond

[The following contains “a bunch of” what the Moslem Haddad’s old Great-Aunt Huldy Olsen, out of Eagle Lk., Minn., fifty-two years or so ago called “a bunch of off-color wild talk!”  You have been warned, ‘inshAllah — ed]

28 Muharram 1432 (AH)//3 January 2011 (Old Style)

(written by him in reply to a letter from a friend — BR)

Hang on, Michael…by God, did you know it, I had custody once, briefly, of such a bird?
   ‘Twas in Midelt in the Middle Atlas, oh, more than thirty years since whilst I was sojourning among the ‘ait-‘Abdi Berbers there, down from their 11000 foot plateau for the Winter.  My purpose, as well as the bagnios, was to learn something of their tamizirt language.  During the festive days of ‘Eid, which came at Winter’s end that year, my first teacher of ‘ilm al-islam and the most elementary of the dervish lore of the Sofees was called away down to the sickbed of an uncle by the sea, down the long bare hills to dirty old Dar Baida, or Casablanca Town.  As he threw together his things, Mahound Nadgemee asked if I wouldn’t be so good as to mind his marvelous old talking parrot (more…)

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