Taboo Plaza

Happy New Year and here is my hope we make it some-'thing' better than the year before.
Challenges loom in front of us rising as monuments to past actions. 

Israel's on the verge of blowing up every Palestinian alive.
India and Pakistan again demonstrate threats posed by nuclear scientific progress.
The world economy lies in shambles. 
Authority appears ready to spend children into poverty propping up a broken monstrosity that terrifies us every day.

We want it the same.
We want it no matter the strain.
We don't want it all the same.

The new year should signal something new. 
Eventually.
Eventually, the new year will pass us by (disappear) with noone left to mark the year.
That's what we're up against.

Will the 'happy new year' be this one or next?
Will the world continue to offer contradictions as salve for old wounds?
Will we continue to live in "Terror" or can we find a better story to tell?

The world continues as we realize the world. 
We are in the world because we choose the stories we're willing to accept. 
We define the reasons that make the most sense. 
We support views with action, not words.
We create the answers we're ready to repeat.

Short, Short Shorties Yo!

There was a honey bee named Sam. 

Sam left his community hive one day in late autumn.  Sam was doing his thing.  Everything seemed normal, or at least semi-normal.  Sam was going to visit flowers, collect pollen on his hind legs and bring it back to the honey makers.  On his way out of the hive, Sam spoke with Beverly (a peer collector he talked with a couple of times a week.)

“Where’s the pollen today, Beverly?”

“Same place as always Sam,” Beverly said with a smile.  “In the flowers.”

Sam smiled, “That it is.  That it is.”

“Which way do you think you’ll go today?”  Beverly asked.

“I think I’m going to try the far reaches of the West Fork.”

“Isn’t that a little dangerous this late in the season?”  Beverly cautioned, “Temperatures drop pretty quickly this late in the year.”

“That’s okay,” Sam replied, “I’m a man.  I’ll make it.”

“That you are.  Good luck out there.”

Sam and Beverly parted ways as he flew off to the west.  Sam quickly felt the late year temperatures slowing his inner juices.  He calculated he had four hours to get the pollen and get back to the hive.  Most bees believed to be caught in the cold was to be taken by Bezel.  The bees believed Bezel lived in underground sweet, sticky death where bees died from starvation. 

Sam was determined to not let Bezel get him before he got back to the hive with his pollen.  Sam needed the pollen today.  A honey maker named Claudia would still be busying making honey this evening.  If Sam could get some pollen, he would see Claudia again.

Flying as hard as he could to the west, Sam reached the near West Fork in little time.  In this area were beautiful reds and yellows, but they were scattered (and sparse) around grassy patches, blacktop strips and block dwellings.  Early in the pollen collecting season, these flowers were prime targets.  They yielded vast amounts of pollen supplying the hive collectors two days work.  This was dangerous territory though. 

All the other bees claimed Bezel lived in the near West Fork.  Sam didn’t really believe in Bezel though.  Sam was a bee of reason.  Enlightened- Sam thought through his problems and laid out plans for his future.  That’s just the kind of bee that he was.

Sam flew past the near West Fork stopping here and there.  He found no pollen.  If he did, he imagined, he would take that pollen back to Claudia and talk to her.  There wouldn’t be any lines this time of year, so it wouldn’t look awkward as other honey makers stood with no one to serve while he waited three bees deep to give his pollen to Claudia.

Sam would find some pollen to take back to the hive.  He had calculated his journey down to skipping every fourth flower.  By Sam’s calculation, this would improve his odds for finding pollen.  It was complicated, but it made sense to Sam.

After two hours, winter winds arrived from nowhere.  Sam reached Mid-West Fork and was caught midway in his plans.  It was now as far to go back to the hive as it was to get to the far West Fork wear the pollen laid.  Left with desire and power of will, Sam calculated he could make it.  Temperatures dropped followed by rain. 

The world exerted itself on Sam.
Sam lasted long enough to dry up- frozen- on my dirty, backyard barbeque grill.
Now there is no more Sam.

Tip of the week

I'm not a financial advisor, but it seems to me, part of our economic problem today is inflated value placed in credit.  Credit is just numbers on a page or computer screen.  Addition, subtraction, multiplication and division are the essence our "money."

Too much value placed in balance sheets easily shakes confidence when nothing is revealed to back up the calculations.  On to the tip of the week then. 

If you have a 401k, you're taking part in the over-valuing of credits.  There's nothing wrong with that, per se.  However, you have money sitting (doing nothing) while you're revolving credit accounts accumulate interest.  Interest that can stop accumulating.  It all depends on you.

You can hope your 401k grows or you can dig yourself out of debt.  If you cash out early, the government gets one third of the money.  If your employer contributed to your 401k, the government gets that portion.  You get what you put in to it. 

You sacrifice to be debt free.

You live freer without obligation to someone uninvolved intimately in your life.

Once again, I'm not an economic advisor of any-type, but sometimes it seems like a good idea.

Belly Laugh

I hope for the new year we might be able to stop laughing at our comedians long enough to listen to what they have to say.  Comedians are, in some cases, our Socrates.

Bill Cosby teachs us about life and the personal touch.

George Carlin comments on the world without restraint.




Dave Chapelle demonstrates honesty we might emulate with regard to our own bias.

 


And last, but not least, Bill Hicks might make you want to sell everything you own and live in a cave.