I spent the previous weekend riding 24 miles on my bicycle for the first time in over 20 years. It’s something I just wanted to do, and the journey took roughly three hours against the wind. I have always enjoyed riding bikes. The last time I had that particular bike out was nearly 10 years ago when I racked it to Hilton Head Island with the rest of my family and we rode them all over that island. But since then, there really wasn’t a good reason to get it out. So I broke it out just to see if I could still ride those kinds of distances—and the answer was that I could. While riding I had to drive past our local McDonald’s and I noticed that the McRib was back for its annual appearance which is always a favorite in our family. So naturally my wife went back up to that McDonald’s once she received my report not just once, but five times during the same weekend to get for us McRib meals for lunch, dinner, and just snacks as the inclination provoked us. What a delight those are.
I love McDonald’s. Sure the food is not the healthiest in the world, but when you need something in your stomach quick, they are just wonderful. One of my favorite aspects of traveling is visiting new McDonald’s restaurants that I’ve never been to before—especially for breakfast. Each one is an oasis of capitalism and I cherish them. Some of my favorites are the one in Eaton, Ohio along RT 127; another is on I-10 in Florida just outside of Jacksonville. Yet another is the one outside of Universal Studios in Florida. Another is the one in Carrollton, Kentucky which we stop at about 6 to 7 times a year while visiting family in Louisville. Wherever they are, I love McDonald’s, I love their Big Macs, I love their Sausage McMuffin’s with Egg. And I love……LOVE their McRibs. When those come out each year my wife and I eat at McDonald’s three to five times a week. After my bike ride and the calories I burned from the exercise I ate three McRibs back to back and loved every last drop of oozing barbecue which dripped from them.
In the early days of my company Cliffhanger Research and Development when I needed extra money to pay my yearly taxes because I had not paid enough through the year—I would often work at fast food restaurants to make a few thousand extra dollars to cover tax bills so that they didn’t pile up while revenue generating aspects of the business could be developed. I have worked at Wendy’s, I have worked at Frisch’s, and I have worked at McDonald’s—so I have a clear understanding of what goes on behind the scenes. I always feel better about the food coming out of McDonald’s as opposed to a little family restaurant because I know the large company has everything as idiot proof as food preparation can be. They literally take the error out of food prep so uncooked chicken and raw vegetables are not even an option. The method that a Big Mack is made is so fast that there isn’t much time for a disgruntled worker to tamper with the food. Sure it happens, but it happens less at McDonald’s than just about everywhere else because the process is so fast and mechanical, that there isn’t time for the vandalism of food. At the Frisch’s I worked at if a cook thought a guy in the dinning room didn’t deserve to be with a particular date they thought was attractive—they’d spit on their Big Boy. It actually happened a lot. Nobody ever knew so long as the tartar sauce covered up the saliva. The cooks would laugh behind the safety of their line as they watched their target eat their vandalized burger unknowing.
At McDonald’s there is too much visibility and the pace of food sales too great for such shenanigans. The food is usually sold within minutes of being prepared and the workers are too consumed with the basic needs of moving product than worrying about who is sitting in the dinning room with whom. The food itself is precooked off-site with idiot proof machines guaranteed to give customers food that won’t kill them—because of the large amount of food that McDonald’s offers the public on a daily basis. To watch a line leader prepare a table full of Sausage McMuffins with Egg is literally a work of art as the eggs are all real and grilled in a very specific way with complex—idiot free presses that always fascinated me with their precise timing.
When I eat at McDonald’s I never worry about my food. I don’t expect a steak dinner from a place like Jags in West Chester. I expect good food that fills my belly fast with as little tampering from human hands as possible. Another favorite McDonald’s in my family is the one in downtown Gatlinburg. A few years ago my wife wanted a new purse so we went to Gatlinburg for the day to let her go shopping for a very specific design she had in mind. After a few hours in town the mission was accomplished and we stopped by our McDonald’s there and had a couple of Big Mac meals, then left on our motorcycle for home. Prior trips had us visiting that same McDonald’s before a hard day of hiking in the Great Smoky Mountains living completely off the breakfast served uniquely by McDonald’s. I was still eating my Sausage McMuffin with Egg as we were parking near the trail to begin our journey and it filled me for the entire day in the mountains.
So after 24 miles on a bicycle, McRib sandwiches from McDonald’s were a very special treat. I love everything about those meals, the McRib of course, but the French Fries and the Coca Cola all taste so much better. As my wife is about to pick some up for dinner she’ll tell me to find something on TV to watch when she gets back. She leaves and I scan through our DVR programs and literally by the time I find something good to watch she is back with smoking hot McRibs freshly made with delectable Fries and an oversized Coke—the whole process might take ten minutes including the drive out of our garage and back. McDonald’s is just a wonderful invention of capitalism and such a delight to have in our lives.
But there is nothing better than the time of year when McRibs are offered by McDonald’s. There is nothing better than the constant reminders of capitalism during the Holiday season topped with the yearly delight of a McRib sandwich. It is productivity that makes those combinations so wonderful—the ability to make good food cheaply and very quickly that serves best the interests of people like me. I wish every corner of the world had their own McDonald’s so they could share such treasures. Perhaps they could if only they embraced capitalism with more vigor—because it takes capitalism to make McDonald’s run correctly. It is machines over the fallacies of people who make McDonald’s safer than your average “mom and pop” restaurant. It is their ability to control the market forces of food production that makes them such an American powerhouse in the economy, and it is their ability to stand as testaments of capitalism in a world trying to default to socialism. For me, there is nothing better than a McDonald’s McRib not just because they taste good—but because they are reminders of the values that make America great. And I never tire of them.
For education reformers in Ohio disappointment was revealed after the smoke cleared once the Election of 2014 results came in. In Southern Ohio where resistance to Common Core and the influence of teacher unions against children is strongest two socialist leaning Democrats won the state board of education seats for both District 3 and 4. One was an incumbent the other a former teacher union president which guarantees inaction and more progressive policies imposed on government schools providing a further erosion of the minds of young people. This is how The Pulse Journal reported the aftermath:
A.J. Wagner appeared to be winning election Tuesday night to the state board of education’s District 3 seat, which represents Butler, Preble, Montgomery, Miami and southern Darke counties.Wagner, a former judge and Montgomery County auditor, was appointed to the seat in August after Jeff Mims resigned. Both are Democrats who want to keep the Common Core standards and place a priority on urban public schools.
Former teachers union president and art teacher Pat Bruns won the school board seat for District 4 that represents Warren and Hamilton counties, earning 56 percent of the vote, to 44 percent for Zac Haines Bruns, a Democrat, supports Common Core school standards and wants to crack down on charter schools. Haines, a young Republican business owner, opposes Common Core and strongly supports school choice, including charters.
Putting a teacher union president on the state school board is like putting a snake into a glass cage filled with mice. There is no place for the mice to go, and all will be consumed eventually by the asp. So long as these types of people are setting the state standards in Ohio or anywhere else, government schools will be ineffective and culpable of instructing students all the wrong liberal policies.
For short-sighted gains, area Republicans did not focus any energy into the seats of these board positions which end up being breeding grounds for liberalism. When signs for Mary Pritchard who won (28 percent) nearly on her own without much party support, were displayed at an area Kasich rally, Todd Hall threw out the advocate. Todd runs the Republican Party in Southern Ohio now and is primarily concerned with bending the party around the finger of developer’s business interests instead of solid philosophical policy. Knowing him the way I do, he probably has a hard time saying that word let alone putting it to practice. The result is more bleeding heart Democrats setting the pace for more union control of government schools who continue to ask for money to support their scam ridden baby-sitting service called “public education.” That means area Republicans who are developers—like Todd is–will end up having to pay more money in taxes to those institutions of mismanagement because of their short-sighted strategy on a race that was locked from the start. There was no challenge to Kasich, or Boehner so Republicans could have helped Pritchard gain just 10 more percent of the vote. But because they chose to play it safe—it will cost down the road quite a bit.
Common Core is one of the vilest attempts at youthful minds in recent history. It is revisionist education steering minds toward collective intentions instead of individual achievement. This does not make Republicans for the future—it makes Democrats. In the dim-witted desire to show solidarity behind party favorites like the liberal union rep Sheriff Jones of Butler County and talk show progressive Bill Cunningham who only pretends to be a Rush Limbaugh type on WLW radio—Republicans have taken a weak approach to the philosophical tenets of conservativism and are patting themselves on the back as if they achieved a victory.
Todd Hall and his area Republicans are proud that they know weak-kneed conservatives who golf with President Obama with tough talk to the media, but gently fondle his genitals under the White House dining table and think nobody sees it. They are proud that Kasich dipped his feat in the water with a fight against public sector workers but decided that it was too much for him—and quickly retreated straight into the arms of Obamacare—to win some women voters and minority compliments—all the while giving up on conservative belief in favor of big government support. They are stupid enough to think they won—meanwhile real conservatives like Mary Pritchard are out of the arena and relegated to a category of “crazy Tea Party types.”
So true the country moved a bit toward conservativism, but only in name—just like most area Republicans in Southern Ohio—the races that could have been won that really mattered still have vile Democrats in them and can still do massive amounts of damage to young minds through Common Core—which is a creation of a current front-runner of the Republican national ticket for president—Jeb Bush. So before thinking that the dark days of liberalism are behind anybody in Ohio—the evidence indicates that the storm is just brewing and these soft-backed Republicans do not have the philosophical wherewithal to withstand the pressure such radical Democrats from the state board of education will try to impose. The real fight of the 2014 was lost in Ohio and Republicans failed to recognize it—in spite of the warnings. They were too busy looking like an inclusive party than focusing on the actual management of Ohio from top to bottom—and that will cost down the road…..a former teacher union president on the state board of education—what a travesty.
On August 25, 2011, four vehicles loaded with armed Los Zetas gunmen pulled up to the entrance of Casino Royale in Monterrey, Nuevo Leon, Mexico. After spraying the entrance of the casino with gunfire, they dumped gallons of gasoline at the doors and set the building ablaze. Officials claim that 52 people, mostly women, were killed in the resulting fire. Some sources indicate that the body count may have been even higher. When several members of Los Zetas were arrested, they claimed they had not intended to kill anyone, but were simply trying to intimidate the owners of the casino, who had refused to pay extortion money.
To those who passively contemplate support of the open border movement which is a major push behind amnesty and the current flood of illegal immigrants over the southern American border, and support the legalization of marijuana you are functioning from the possession of Santa Muerta, the grim reaper-like figure of the Mexican people. She has had many tributes paid to her begging safe passage of drug trafficking shipments into the United States and is the premier deity of the drug culture cartels which currently run Mexico with as much furious terrorism as ISIS is conducting in Iraq and the Syrian border. To understand how much of a threat these terrorist organizations are to American life–watch the video below. To understand how much they have penetrated our culture from the streets of New York, Los Angeles, and Chicago on down to the smallest street in the Midwest—to the music industry, into movies, into the “gangsta’ culture” of little street thugs who walk around with their pants halfway pulled down playing Grand Theft Auto into the small hours of the morning—the many shrines to Santa Muerta can be found along the coveted I-35 artery in Southern Texas. It is that curse against America invoked by the drug lords of Mexico—who have shaped young American minds and seek to destroy the country one drug shipment at a time.
Nuestra Señora de la Santa Muerte or, colloquially, Santa Muerte (Spanish for Our Lady of the Holy Death), is a female folk saint venerated primarily in Mexico and the Southwestern United States. A personification of death, she is associated with healing, protection, and safe delivery to the afterlife by her devotees.[1] Despite opposition by the Catholic Church, her cult arose from popular Mexican folk belief, a syncretism between indigenous Mesoamerican and Spanish Catholic beliefs and practices. Since the pre-Columbian era Mexican culture has maintained a certain reverence towards death,[2] which can be seen in the widespread commemoration of the syncretic Day of the Dead.[3] Elements of that celebration include the use of skeletons to remind people of their mortality.[4] The worship is condemned by the Catholic Church in Mexico as invalid, but it is firmly entrenched among Mexico’s lower working classes and various elements of society deemed as “outcasts”.[5]
Santa Muerte generally appears as a female skeletal figure, clad in a long robe and holding one or more objects, usually a scythe and a globe.[6] Her robe can be of any color, as more specific images of the figure vary widely from devotee to devotee and according to the rite being performed or the petition being made.[7] As the worship of Santa Muerte was clandestine until the 20th century, most prayers and other rites have been traditionally performed privately in the home. However, for the past ten years or so, worship has become more public, especially in Mexico City after Enriqueta Romero initiated her famous Mexico City shrine in 2001.[4][8][9] The number of believers in Santa Muerte has grown over the past ten to twenty years, to several million followers in Mexico, the United States, and parts of Central America. Santa Muerte has similar male counterparts in the Americas, such as the skeletal folk saints San La Muerte of Argentina and Rey Pascual of Guatemala.[9]
Santa Muerte is now found commonly on college campuses all across America, in marijuana stores particularly in Denver and soon Washington D.C. She is a direct result of the drug cartels and their products—which is essentially the economy of the oppressed Mexicans—oppressed by the terrorism of the drug trade—a product designed to destroy human minds for short-term relief by mental evasion. No culture can survive drug abuse and with each state which ponders the legalization of marijuana for any reason—for every libertarian who begs for the “right to get high” Santa Muerte is whispering in your ear for acceptance of her death grip on your life—sent to you from the offerings given by the drug runners of the cartels.
If American law enforcement wanted to catch these drug runners all they would have to do is arrest those offering flowers, candy, fruits, water, bread or incense to the many shrines along southern American highways. There is nearly a 100% chance that a major drug trafficker would be caught. But for every cartel worker caught and put in jail covered in Santa Muerte tattoos another takes his place because Americans want to get stoned, they want to conduct their lives under the influence of intoxicants and wish to give in to the temptations promised by the evil hand of Santa Muerte who dances through their dreams with rebellious rapture and declarations of independence away from their parents of square minded conservatives.
The drug lords of Mexico fight each other constantly for territorial rights into the points of entry into America—like the I-35 corridor—which result in the kind of assassinations described at the Casino Royale in Monterrey. Those drug lords consult the supernatural aid of Santa Muerte and hope that with all the billions of dollars they inject into open border polices through American magazines, music, and movies that the minds of America will loosen up. The resistance to their drug products by American law enforcement will make legalization more appealing if supernatural aid lends a hand. Sante Muerte does not wish to operate so discreetly—she wants to be out in the open and have shrines of tribute to her from every home that has been touched by her vile evil. By flooding the border with immigrants it makes drug trafficking easier losing less shipments per run past American authorities. And with every stoned abuser in the States an alley to Sante Muerte is utilized. With legalization of marijuana comes a guaranteed supply of Mexico’s top product flowing across the border as a legitimate business. The governments of Mexico believe they can then gain control of their cartels by making the illegal activity legal and taxable—which will take away the massive profits currently enjoyed. But the drug cartels also support legalization because they can then operate legitimately out in the open and will no longer have to hide in the mountains of the Sierra Madre. They will be free to live on the coasts in Mexico, in the resort towns and sell their product directly. As resistance to border patrols weakens the DEA seizure of shipments there is more of a chance of the products reaching their destinations in Cincinnati, Indianapolis and Kansas City. With legalization of marijuana it will make smuggling cocaine, opium, and other drugs much more profitable mixed in with those shipments. That is the real intention of drug legalization and open borders advocated by the drug cartels.
Santa Muerte is the demon who is attempting to whisper America into a curse induced sleep—who seduces politicians into loose border policies so to help the drugs get to their destinations, to the abusers who want those drugs, and to the short-lived seduction of their result. Santa Muerte influence is spreading among young people who have adopted the word “narco” to refer to a lifestyle they wish to embody delivered to their minds by Santa Muerte through music and video games carrying her influence to the rudderless youth of the millennial generation. After the election of 2014 and vote to legalize marijuana in Washington D.C. it is the granted wish of Santa Muerte at work eating the offered fruit of a drug lord in Northern Mexico–fulfilling their wishes that is most at work. Soon the system will be overwhelmed, and the DEA will be defunded and Santa Muerte will rule the economy of America for the first time in history—out in the open.
Santa Muerte is already in the life of most Americans and is far more dangerous than ISIS or any Islamic driven terrorist organization. They have penetrated the culture of the United States to such an extent that they operate nearly invisible to the inquiries of the media and the conscious mind of the typical suburbanite. Santa Muerte is in the bars of Key West and strewn throughout the Caribbean and has gently whispered America into a deep sleep by her intoxicating curses of inaction. She is the greatest threat to America that there is as she is the mistress of the many drug cartels and their vile evil which seeks to destroy American capitalism with “narco-capitlism” which is essentially a more brutal form of communism. To understand it read this example from a New Yorker story of May 5th by Patrick Radden Keefe—a remarkable tale called “The Hunt for El Chapo.” Read the whole story at the link following.
Guzmán had other weaknesses. “He loves the gourmet food,” a D.E.A. official told me. From time to time, he would be spotted at an elegant restaurant in Sinaloa or in a neighboring state. The choreography was always the same. Diners would be startled by a team of gunmen, who would politely but firmly demand their telephones, promising that they would be returned at the end of the evening. Chapo and his entourage would come in and feast on shrimp and steak, then thank the other diners for their forbearance, return the telephones, pick up the tab for everyone, and head off into the night.
That is “narco-capitalism” and the desire of Sante Muerte for America—and she’s in your life one way or another right now and her influence is gaining momentum quickly.
On August 25, 2011, four vehicles loaded with armed Los Zetas gunmen pulled up to the entrance of Casino Royale in Monterrey, Nuevo Leon, Mexico. After spraying the entrance of the casino with gunfire, they dumped gallons of gasoline at the doors and set the building ablaze. Officials claim that 52 people, mostly women, were killed in the resulting fire. Some sources indicate that the body count may have been even higher. When several members of Los Zetas were arrested, they claimed they had not intended to kill anyone, but were simply trying to intimidate the owners of the casino, who had refused to pay extortion money.
To those who passively contemplate support of the open boarder movement which is a major push behind amnesty and the current flood of illegal immigrants over the southern American border, and support the legalization of marijuana you are functioning from the possession of Santa Muerta, the grim reaper-like figure of the Mexican people. She has had many tributes paid to her begging safe passage of drug trafficking shipments into the United States and is the premier deity of the drug culture cartels which currently run Mexico with as much furious terrorism as ISIS is conducting in Iraq and the Syrian boarder. To understand how much of a threat these terrorist organizations are to American life–watch the video below. To understand how much they have penetrated our culture from the streets of New York, Los Angeles, and Chicago on down to the smallest street in the Midwest—to the music industry, into movies, into the “gangsta’ culture” of little street thugs who walk around with their pants halfway pulled down playing Grand Theft Auto into the small hours of the morning—the many shrines to Santa Muerta can be found along the coveted I-35 artery in Southern Texas. It is that curse against America invoked by the drug lords of Mexico—who have shaped young American minds and seek to destroy the country one drug shipment at a time.
Nuestra Señora de la Santa Muerte or, colloquially, Santa Muerte (Spanish for Our Lady of the Holy Death), is a female folk saint venerated primarily in Mexico and the Southwestern United States. A personification of death, she is associated with healing, protection, and safe delivery to the afterlife by her devotees.[1] Despite opposition by the Catholic Church, her cult arose from popular Mexican folk belief, a syncretism between indigenous Mesoamerican and Spanish Catholic beliefs and practices. Since the pre-Columbian era Mexican culture has maintained a certain reverence towards death,[2] which can be seen in the widespread commemoration of the syncretic Day of the Dead.[3] Elements of that celebration include the use of skeletons to remind people of their mortality.[4] The worship is condemned by the Catholic Church in Mexico as invalid, but it is firmly entrenched among Mexico’s lower working classes and various elements of society deemed as “outcasts”.[5]
Santa Muerte generally appears as a female skeletal figure, clad in a long robe and holding one or more objects, usually a scythe and a globe.[6] Her robe can be of any color, as more specific images of the figure vary widely from devotee to devotee and according to the rite being performed or the petition being made.[7] As the worship of Santa Muerte was clandestine until the 20th century, most prayers and other rites have been traditionally performed privately in the home. However, for the past ten years or so, worship has become more public, especially in Mexico City after Enriqueta Romero initiated her famous Mexico City shrine in 2001.[4][8][9] The number of believers in Santa Muerte has grown over the past ten to twenty years, to several million followers in Mexico, the United States, and parts of Central America. Santa Muerte has similar male counterparts in the Americas, such as the skeletal folk saints San La Muerte of Argentina and Rey Pascual of Guatemala.[9]
Santa Muerte is now found commonly on college campuses all across America, in marijuana stores particularly in Denver and soon Washington D.C. She is a direct result of the drug cartels and their products—which is essentially the economy of the oppressed Mexicans—oppressed by the terrorism of the drug trade—a product designed to destroy human minds for short term relief by mental evasion. No culture can survive drug abuse and with each state which ponders the legalization of marijuana for any reason—for every libertarian who begs for the “right to get high” Santa Muerte is whispering in your ear for acceptance of her death grip on your life—sent to you from the offerings given by the drug runners of the cartels.
If American law enforcement wanted to catch these drug runners all they would have to do is arrest those offering flowers, candy, fruits, water, bread or incense to the many shrines along southern American highways. There is nearly a 100% chance that a major drug trafficker would be caught. But for every cartel worker caught and put in jail covered in Santa Muerte tattoos another takes his place because Americans want to get stoned, they want to conduct their lives under the influence of intoxicants and wish to give in to the temptations promised by the evil hand of Santa Muerte who dances through their dreams with rebellious rapture and declarations of independence away from their parents of square minded conservatives.
The drug lords of Mexico fight each other constantly for territorial rights into the points of entry into America—like the I-35 corridor—which result in the kind of assassinations described at the Casino Royale in Monterrey. Those drug lords consult the supernatural aid of Santa Muerte and hope that with all the billions of dollars they inject into open border polices through American magazines, music, and movies that the minds of America will loosen up. The resistance to their drug products by American law enforcement will make legalization more appealing if supernatural aid lends a hand. Sante Muerte does not wish to operate so discreetly—she wants to be out in the open and have shrines of tribute to her from every home that has been touched by her vile evil. By flooding the border with immigrants it makes drug trafficking easier losing less shipments per run past American authorities. And with every stoned abuser in the States an alley to Sante Muerte is utilized. With legalization of marijuana comes a guaranteed supply of Mexico’s top product flowing across the border as a legitimate business. The governments of Mexico believe they can then gain control of their cartels by making the illegal activity legal and taxable—which will take away the massive profits currently enjoyed. But the drug cartels also support legalization because they can then operate legitimately out in the open and will no longer have to hide in the mountains of the Sierra Madre. They will be free to live on the coasts in Mexico, in the resort towns and sell their product directly. As resistance to border patrols weakens the DEA seizure of shipments there is more of a chance of the products reaching their destinations in Cincinnati, Indianapolis and Kansas City. With legalization of marijuana it will make smuggling cocaine, opium, and other drugs much more profitable mixed in with those shipments. That is the real intention of drug legalization and open borders advocated by the drug cartels.
Santa Muerte is the demon who is attempting to whisper America into a curse induced sleep—who seduces politicians into loose border policies so to help the drugs get to their destinations, to the abusers who want those drugs, and to the short-lived seduction of their result. Santa Muerte influence is spreading among young people who have adopted the word “narco” to refer to a lifestyle they wish to embody delivered to their minds by Santa Muerte through music and video games carrying her influence to the rudderless youth of the millennial generation. After the election of 2014 and vote to legalize marijuana in Washington D.C. it is the granted wish of Santa Muerte at work eating the offered fruit of a drug lord in Northern Mexico–fulfilling their wishes that is most at work. Soon the system will be overwhelmed, and the DEA will be defunded and Santa Muerte will rule the economy of America for the first time in history—out in the open.
Santa Muerte is already in the life of most Americans and is far more dangerous than ISIS or any Islamic driven terrorist organization. They have penetrated the culture of the United States to such an extent that they operate nearly invisible to the inquiries of the media and the conscious mind of the typical suburbanite. Santa Muerte is in the bars of Key West and strewn throughout the Caribbean and has gently whispered America into a deep sleep by her intoxicating curses of inaction. She is the greatest threat to America that there is as she is the mistress of the many drug cartels and their vile evil which seeks to destroy American capitalism with “narco-capitlism” which is essentially a more brutal form of communism. To understand it read this example from a New Yorker story of May 5th by Patrick Radden Keefe—a remarkable tale called “The Hunt for El Chapo.” Read the whole story at the link following.
Guzmán had other weaknesses. “He loves the gourmet food,” a D.E.A. official told me. From time to time, he would be spotted at an elegant restaurant in Sinaloa or in a neighboring state. The choreography was always the same. Diners would be startled by a team of gunmen, who would politely but firmly demand their telephones, promising that they would be returned at the end of the evening. Chapo and his entourage would come in and feast on shrimp and steak, then thank the other diners for their forbearance, return the telephones, pick up the tab for everyone, and head off into the night.
That is “narco-capitalism” and the desire of Sante Muerte for America—and she’s in your life one way or another right now and her influence is gaining momentum quickly.
The most powerful parts of Interstellar was the meeting that Cooper had with his daughter’s school teacher—where he had to confront her about a Common Core issue of teaching revisionist history—specifically, that the Apollo programs were false and that the world needed to focus more on taking care of its home, instead of leaving it. That mentality is at the core of the progressive movement and is attached to most government school programs in the West—environmental concerns over technical innovation, care for the poor instead of fixing what makes people poor, emotion over logic, and safety over adventure—that kind of thing. Yet—a communist country at the same time that Virgin had their disaster, reached the moon and returned back to earth after an eight-day mission—as reported:
After an eight-day trip into space, China’s first experimental moon orbiter was successfully recovered on Saturday in the northern Inner Mongolia region. The mission was a test run for the country’s first unmanned return probe to the lunar surface in 2017, which would make China the third country in the world to meet such a challenge after the US and the former Soviet Union.
China’s latest lunar mission aimed to obtain experimental data and testing-technologies about re-entry to Earth’s atmosphere for China’s fourth lunar probe, Chang’e 5. The military-led State of Administration of Science, Technology and Industry for National Defense (SASTIND) hopes in three years time to gather samples from the moon’s surface during the lunar visit.
I watch a lot of news and I had to really do some digging to find that story—it certainly wasn’t on the networks, it wasn’t on CNN, it wasn’t on MSNBC, and it certainly wasn’t on Fox either their main station or their business network. As a person who certainly feels the same level of betrayal the makers of Interstellar felt as they made their wonderful movie about space it is an insult to have been beaten by a slow-moving communist country like China when America was the pioneer of aviation, and space exploration to begin with. I am around the same age as Christopher and Jonathan Nolan and I agree with them, my generation was promised teleportation devices and jet packs, instead we have been given Facebook and Instagram—silly social media inventions so that we can communicate with other neurotic human beings who think in the same small ways that the Common Core teacher in Interstellar did. People who actually think that America used space exploration as a propaganda war against Russia, and that they never happened. If you listen to many of today’s youth taught by these same types of teachers—this realization is not far off. So it was wonderful to receive news that Virgin Galactic was getting back on their horse quickly and returning to vehicle testing in 2015. It was also wonderful to see the American flag planted on distant planets in distant galaxies in the movie Interstellar—even though it was a fictional occurrence—it was good to see.
But what concerned me the most was the general attitude that many had after Virgin Galactic suffered a catastrophic crash during flight testing on Halloween of 2014. Too many people seemed to gloat in the tragedy pointing to the ultimate failure of Branson’s efforts simply because they hated the program as a leisure activity for the “rich.” What upset me the most was that even people who are my friends jumped on the bandwagon of “rich” hating and slamming the intent of Virgin Galactic. Obviously the crash had brought clearly to the surface the deep feelings most people have—mostly formed by their educations and careers which currently divides our society right down the middle of ideology. A sample article of this “rich” bashing can be seen from my friend at the following link.
The other aspect of the tragedy which came out in the CNN interview provided by Branson upon announcing the continuation of their flight testing even as the NTSB is still conducting their investigation is that loss of human life means we should stop reaching for the stars—or doing anything for that matter. Because a test pilot died at Virgin Galactic that the program should be scrapped—it was astonishing how many Americans actually turned their thoughts in that direction in the wake of the disaster. The blame falls entirely on the shoulders of our education system which has taught entire generations that safety is more important than achievement, and that a death within the collective hurts more than a death of an individual adventurer. The trend today is to personalize everyone into the collective so that every school shooting, every police beating, every fallen star anchors the feet of the human race to the slugs of society in such a way as to hope that those dim-witted caricatures of existence might be elevated from their stations of passivity by the lofty efforts of the ambitious.
When flat screen television sets first came out over a decade ago, they were well over $10,000—even for small ones. Today, my wife and I were shopping at Wal-Mart looking to put them in every room of our house for around $300 each. In the beginning only the “rich” could afford flat screens, computers, and other amenities. Once those items reached mass production and had the kinks worked out, they became much cheaper and obtainable for the masses of the world. This is the same kind of thing that will come in the wake of Virgin Galactic. At first the prices of tickets have to be expensive, the company has to build not just one or two more of their space ships, but they need an entire fleet of them at $500 million each. That revenue has to come out of profit—profit made off the first 5% of civilization into space—which I intend to be among. Once Virgin has a fleet of ships, construction of hotels and shortened travel between countries can begin to take place moving space tourism into an expanded category of industrial exploration.
This whole hatred of the “rich” comes from the progressive sectors of society which is dominated by teacher unions and government employees who are resistant to change. And when changes are forced on them, they push back in passive aggressive ways—like the teacher in Interstellar—denying that the Apollo program ever happened. Meanwhile, as everyone on planet earth was slamming Virgin Galactic for trying to do something the American government through NASA should have been doing twenty years ago—China powered by the interest off our debt is flying to the moon—and back. Our school teachers in America now teach that we should halt progress of Virgin Galactic because one man died and that the effort was vile and evil because it’s “for profit.” Whereas China is willing to build their ships out of the bodies of their citizens and expend however many lives it takes to achieve the goals of their state sponsored endeavors.
The “rich” are that way because they are productive and had ideas realized that touched many lives. That is how you become “rich.” Richard Branson did this by selling music—then creating an airline. His actions touched the masses of society so he became “rich.” That is not something to be envied—it’s to be celebrated. Richard Branson didn’t roll over in bed one day and have billions of dollars deposited on his tongue. He made it from nothing—from a void in marketplace economics that he discovered. So he deserves to be honored as a hero of human achievement instead of a villain driven by jealously from ancient communist propaganda which resides to this very day in our public schools.
From my perspective Richard Branson is one of the only ones who is trying to fulfill the promise to my generation—that we don’t need to regress into a collective misery—we need to “ADVANCE” into a higher civilization. If you want to help the poor in Africa, let Virgin Galactic give them satellites so that they can play on that stupid Facebook and learn about medicine from the West. Or learn how to retrieve water from the ground over the Internet. Teach them to help themselves instead of sitting around swatting bugs and praying to ancient Gods that will never hear or come to their aid. If you want to help inject more money into a global economy stop this ridiculous incestuous relationship we have with all the countries of the earth and move that economy into space, into mines on the moon, mines on Mars, harvesting in the asteroid belt between Mars and Jupiter. And drop the jealousy against the “rich.” If you want to be “rich” go invent something and become “rich.” Stop complaining and conducting your life under the premise of victimization—this is the primary fault of the current global public education system as guided by progressive teacher unions—and it is a severe detriment to progress.
Meanwhile—as the rest of the world sorts out its small-minded thoughts on the matter it was refreshing to see that Virgin Galactic is filled with people who still think in the way that built America. Not everyone at the company is “rich” like Richard Branson, but they work on the next ship because they have a passion for space exploration—and it takes the “rich” to get the whole thing off the ground because it is they who can pay for the fuel and creation of more ships and more spaceports across the face of the earth. It is a shame that this respect is not taught in public education. As a result, too many people believe inaccurately that the “rich” are to envied when the real villain is complacency and indecision. At least when it comes to Virgin Galactic, it’s not a problem—thank, God!
To get an idea of what the screenwriter was thinking during the development process of Interstellar—before diving too deeply into the contents of the story—read what he said to /Film.com which is a kind of industry insider blog site. Jonathan Nolan spoke openly about his motivations while writing Interstellar. He has brought his writing talents to the Dark Knight series which I have praised heavily because of the content and angle he chooses to provide in those films. In Interstellar his motivations were clear, persuasive, and as bold as anything that has ever been done before in a movie.
/Film question: So that was always the pitch that like it was set in the future where resources are, were our future’s looking bleak?
Nolan: Absolutely. I mean, look the reality is we stopped going to space because we’re too fucking wrapped up in whatever narcissistic bullshit, you know, as a sort of a collective. I mean, look, there’s an awful lot of things that still need to be fixed here on Earth, right? You know, problems that never seem to go away. Poverty, disease and a lot of stuff that we turned our attention to that is a good thing. We’re also just kind of sucked in the bullshit. I was talking downstairs, I grew up in Apollo space travel, we were promised jetpacks and fucking teleportation and instead we got fucking Facebook and Instagram. That’s a bummer.
But we don’t think of it in those terms. We think of ourselves as being the most magnificent, amazing universe ever and if we wanna go back to the Moon, sure, we could. It’s like no, those guys are all dead or retired. We’re not going back to the Moon. And if we wanted to, we’d have to spend billions of dollars and it would take years and years and years. We’re just done. We’re not doing that. We’re out of that business. And so people don’t think in those terms. We had to set the movie in the future in which that was abundantly clear.
Readers of this site will instantly recognize the angle Jonathan Nolan took in setting up the movie Interstellar. At the start he challenges the notion of public education when the government schools are caught lying to students about the Apollo missions—stating that they were only intended as propaganda against Russia. Public education in Interstellar is on Common Core overload as test assessments determine what kind of careers students can pursue as adults in the collective society.
Meanwhile, innovation is down, people are barely able to make food for themselves as a blight fungus similar to the current Ug99 strains that are currently moving across Africa into the Middle East-specifically target wheat and okra. Because the developed world has micromanaged the world’s resources—specifically the minds of their youth—there isn’t anybody anywhere who can stop the fungus as it thrusts the world into hunger slowly killing earth.
It was amazing how many reviewers on their first viewing of the film missed so many of the most important messages—many confused the fungus in the film to environmental recklessness supporting their global warming conspiracies when it is exactly that kind of stupidity which has lunched the world into regression. Interstellar is such an amazing film that people wanted to come away with something they liked in it, even if the premise of the film attacks many of the core beliefs that most of our current civilization holds. So there is some revisionist memory going on in almost every review I read. But it’s not fair to Interstellar because as a movie it is going to places that nobody ever has attempted before. It tackles 5th dimensional space; inter galactic travel, the nature of love, the transitory aspects of time, the foundations of religion, the deep human yearning for adventure, the magnificence of invention and the corrupt nature of politics most epically displayed in forcing NASA underground because public support could not fathom spending money on spaceships when the world needed food. The movie even tackles the premise and existence of poltergeists. There are so many big ideas harnessed in the movie that it really belongs in its own category. It seeks openly to advance the human mind—which is certainly no small feat and it succeeds on every level.
The best parts of the movie were the space sequences which reminded me so much of 2001: A Space Odyssey filmed in complete silence—just as they would have been. The catastrophes in space were just mind bogglingly beautiful. As I have also reported at this site I am a tremendous Koyaanisqatsi fan—even to the extent that I designed a line of t-shirts years ago as a tribute to the 1983 experimental film. But the problem with it was that it pointed to progress as a vile and evil thing ultimately and concluded with a rocket exploding on its way to space falling back to earth in complete silence to the score of a magnificent work by Philip Glass. Well—there was a lot of Koyaanisqatsi in this movie and the music by Hans Zimmer without being disrespectful to Philip Glass tackles the original Koyaanisqatsi score with a new level of boldness. The pipe organs from Hans Zimmer’s soundtrack gave narration to the silence of space in such a grand fashion that it will become the new standard for all filmmakers over the next century. If The Wizard of Oz brought color to film, Interstellar has brought music to space—and that is not an insult to the contributions of John Williams to Star Wars—but Interstellar is in a new category of its own that will become the new standard—it is that good. The flight sequences were so wonderfully done—they were like a concert set in space to silently floating images struggling to break the boundaries of not just earth—but previous human limitation. There were times when the thrusters to the ships kicked on and the music literally was blowing me into the back of the seat—it was jaw-dropping incredible.
I think most people seeing Interstellar will like something from it—but the movie was intended to be enjoyed by smart people—or at a minimum, those who strive to be. It is a thinker’s movie to say the least and deliberately reaches out into the audience to declare, “We feel your pain.” It is literally bigger than anything on earth, there is no mountain too tall, no ocean so great—by the time Interstellar is watched once, everything on earth seems small and silly—including the civilization we have so far built. This is easily the grandest production of ideas ever gathered for the silver screen and even challenges some of the greatest literary work put to print. Interstellar is a magnificent masterpiece assembled to please the mind—to see life beyond death, and to touch the true face of God.
When the main character Cooper finds himself in the fifth dimension it’s not aliens, or a “they” out there in space trying to help the silly ants of humanity with carefully placed worm holes next to Saturn or the rapture inside a singularity—it is us who have mastered multi-dimensional travel, who have left the door open to our former incantations so to achieve the task in a linier time—to tell the story of humanity as a struggling race beating an invisible clock against stupidity only to weave the universe into a canvas of our own creation. It is the mind of man who spills over outside of their bodies into the infinite and become the utterances of immortality. What is most unusual of all within Interstellar was the carefully constructed request from Christopher Nolan to Hans Zimmer to create music which would live up to such a lofty intention—and uniquely, the legendary composer did it in a fashion that is literally blowing minds too restricted to behold all the images with the must see movie not just of this year, decade, or era—but in the history of film both past and future. Interstellar is out of this world in every category that counts—especially in the swagger category of bolding going to places only contemplated by physics equations and warped imaginations. Now such places are available to anybody who can pay the price of a movie ticket and desire to peak beyond the shroud of impossibility manifested into the bold reality of a destiny that is there within reach, now.
Interstellar is simply a new standard of excellence and will be copied hundreds of different ways from now on. History has just been made with this masterpiece of modern cinema—it is everything that many films have tried to be. The difference is that Interstellar pulled it off.
Before the election results of 2014 are fully sustained, it is important to understand how the radical element of our society viewed those elections—which are represented below so clearly by the Huffington Post. The aforesaid article came out just a few days before Election Day 2014 and reveals a great deal of the underpinnings of progressive beliefs. Obviously, the concern is that American politics is moving back to the conservative right based on the polling of the Republicans taking control of the senate and defeating Democrats in several key races. Momentum is evaporating from the left and they realize it. The same desperation that has made Barack Obama into the king of empty forums and a White House backtracking on the importance of a midterm election—the political left is losing support rapidly. Have a read of the way progressive organizations viewed this particular election and what they are blaming their eroding support on.
There is still suspense over what will happen on Election Day, with control of the Senate hanging in the balance. But regardless of who wins, we already know the 2014 election belongs to the U.S. Supreme Court.
This is the first election where the country will experience the full impact of the Court’s recent decisions rewriting the ground rules of our democracy.
When the Court dismantled our laws regulating money in politics and gutted core voting rights protections, we knew those decisions would have consequences. But only now are we seeing the full scope of their impact: a return to pre-Watergate, pre-Civil Rights era practices. Cash from unknown sources is flooding the most important races, while state politicians have instituted new barriers to the ballot box for millions of Americans. Regardless of who wins, the integrity of our elections has been undermined.
For the first time in decades, citizens in nearly half the country will find it harder to vote. In 14 states, 2014 is the first major election with new voting restrictions in place. For many working class, minority, elderly, and young Americans, voting is now more difficult and expensive. For some, it is impossible. In Texas, for example, 608,000 registered voters do not have the photo ID now required to cast a ballot. A disproportionate number of them are black and Hispanic. Some have already been turned away at the polls.
While the voice of ordinary citizens grows fainter, the voice of the 0.2 percent of Americans who spend the vast majority of money in federal elections — often anonymously — is louder than ever. Outside campaign spending has shattered previous records, with new groups like super PACs and “dark money” groups that do not disclose their donors dwarfing the spending of ordinary citizens and sometimes even candidates themselves. In many key races it is impossible for us to know who is buying our elections.
Essentially, the Huffington Post is blaming their collapsing polices on the inability of their base to compete with money pouring into the political machine as if there was some type of unfair advantage being conducted. They seem to forget that Democrats have a nearly exclusive claim on minority voters, and the technically stupid. There are a lot of really stupid people out there and they mostly vote for Democrats. Democrats also have a lock on the public sector unions and all labor unions in general who pour many, many millions of dollars into candidates who obviously do not represent mainstream America. In fact, the progressive obsession with the whole photo ID issue is that it complicates the voting process too greatly for the typical Democrat. This means fewer voters for them who typically are sympathetic to the handouts given out by government.
What they mean by “pre-Watergate, pre-Civil Rights era practices” is that they successfully suppressed the influence of those who stand against them—and that now the pendulum is swinging the other way—and they don’t like it. It means they always intended to yank the nation radically to the political left with the intention to keep it there. But the nation doesn’t want to stay there; it doesn’t want the poor education practices, the hateful attitude toward business, the castigation of values and religion. It doesn’t want an abusive and top heavy government that will use the IRS to enact its will on dissenters. It doesn’t want Barack Obama or a Hillary Clinton who fails to understand that it is businesses that create jobs and nobody else.
I am personally not all that impressed by the election results. Sure the country is moving politically more toward my direction, but my representatives are far too pink to my blood red Republicanism. I live in a red state and a darker shade of that red than average—so many of the victories to me are just more wash-outs and future villains that need to be fought. But at least those are people worth fighting. The kind of politics the Huffington Post is referring to has deliberately been hidden from the view of the vast majority of Americans and it is now exposed. Now that people can see it, they are rejecting it—as many always knew they would. That is the price of deceit, and when elections are won by deceit—as they have for far too long now, progressive organizations like the Huffington Post should understand that any ground they have made will be lost in a whim just because their ground was not won by actual victory, but through deception. And this past election is only the beginning. There is a long way to go, but that direction is one that does not favor the progressive—that is for sure. Their arguments are tired, and now gleefully exposed.
On Saturday, November 1, 2014, Bill Schmidt wrote:
Rich,
After you again posted another of my e-mails to you on your blog, I told some people that I had been sending e-mails to this anti-school’s guy named Hoffman and that you had been posting and then commenting on them in your blog. They read some of the entries and then said that you seemed pretty kooky and creepy. They asked me why I kept sending you e-mails and I told them about your appearances on the radio, etc. They asked if I thought I could change your narrow mind at all and I said “definitely not”. So they questioned what was being accomplished by continuing the discourse.
I thought back to Nov of 2011 to when I sent you my first e-mail. Lakota had just voted down another school levy and it was clear more cuts needed to be made. I had been made very uncomfortable about how Doc Thompson had made you a spokesman about school finance and how he coddled you by agreeing with everything you would say and how he wasn’t being much of a journalist. So I wrote you an e-mail which you posted on your blog. Since then, various things have happened. You no longer are requested on the radio. You were kicked out of No Lakota Levy. A school levy passed in your district. And, judging that my e-mails are the only ones you seem to put out there, it appears your readership must consist of only a handful of kooks and creeps.
I had to admit that sending you e-mails seems to have no purpose anymore. We are just rehashing the same old stuff. I feel you dragging me into the abyss. I need to let you continue to sink on your own. Since I only read your school blog diatribes anyway, because the other stuff you write is such nonsense (as illustrated by your recent Virgin Galactic tout), I really doubt if I will be calling up your blog very much anymore.
Don’t hurt yourself out there trying to find Communists hiding behind the monkey bars but maybe you should take one of your Brown Shirts along with you as you search. I’d say mattjutras might be available. And I’ll be careful trying to find a Kroger survey to participate in.
William
Years down the road the strategy I am currently conducting will be quite evident. I have worked with others but consistent with my experience, there are severe weaknesses in doing so—so a strategy unique to the times is mandated to implement the needed objectives. I have been building that network now for several years and in doing so certain patterns emerge.
Schmidt’s current position is not that unlike the Laura Sanders episodes, or school board member Julie Schafer—when faced with facts that defy their worldly views, they chose mental evasion to logical observation. They always come around to saying that “you’re not worth the time or investment so I’m leaving.” What they really mean is that “I cannot make you accept my reality so I’m discouraged and will not look in your direction with the same candid flare a child hides under their covers hoping that monsters will not get them.” They often rationalize this position by calling me names like kooky or creepy and think they are smart with connections to debunked communist conspiracies or otherwise scandalous activity leading to public rebuke as if that public had a mind toward intelligence where their collective sum outweighed an individual thought.
Once these people reach the end of their tolerance—of their attempts to reform elements of society into their harmony they retreat to the warm arms of their like-minded despots—such as what William did in a moment of crises. Arrogantly his advisors spoke as if they were Christian missionaries on location in some primitive wilderness and their advice to William the failed missionary was to cut ties with the failed attempt and focus their efforts somewhere that brings success. In this way the government education culture has taken on a type of religious zeal not unlike the Crusades or the current Jihad movement of Islam—that anybody not brainwashed to the religion of their viewpoint should be cast aside as disreputable, or destroyed so that their challenging viewpoints do not threaten the sanctity of their religion—in this case the religion of public education.
There is a long list of such characters that have tried and failed to do what William has. Of them I will say that Schmidt often refrained from going too far which is why I will miss him a bit. He did provide a window into their thinking that I have been using extensively in studies for the referred to upcoming strategies. But as for demeaning my efforts here in attempting to portray them as ineffective and isolated from the mainstream—I can see who reads each day and how many of them there are. I see the many links to Lakota school computers, to the movers and shakers of politics, to the government offices of Columbus, Ohio and Washington D.C. I wouldn’t spend my time if it was wasted—which its not.
But I’m doing things, and planning things that are highly unconventional and certainly not a part of any current political playbook. And it’s all carefully considered and calculated. But as to Schmidt’s wishes of reputation smashing quandary—the meter on the sidebar tells the story better than words. Most newspapers would love to have those numbers, and I don’t sell any advertising aside from links to my own extended works which is about to get a major update. It’s all in the name of authenticity and in these types of political fights; there just aren’t enough characters in the arena who have a heart for that fight—or a proper strategy. And the ones who do are treated as a threat because they are upsetting the apple cart that people like Schmidt depends on. Like a last-minute football play in the closing seconds where a spectator might look away not able to take the drama of the moment—Schmidt’s type always retreats to this effort because the moment is just too much for them. The impact on the world at large is too great and they worry about the changes to their lives if it continues—which I can assure all—it will.
But you can’t do the same old thing over and over. I had a friend at 700 WLW, actually two friends, Darryl Parks and Doc Thompson. They were both fired largely due to people like William Schmidt who complained to the station and its advertisers hoping to quell the message against their social scam. 700 WLW is much friendlier now toward the William Schmidt types—the pro-pot, gay-marriage supporting advocates. They are a sports talk station that does not currently get involved in messy politics. They probably will return to that at some point in the future, but as for now, they are playing it safe. That was their decision. They have invited me on their programs which I have declined. Their criteria wished me to take on the role of the villain instead of the role I formally had—and that wasn’t going to happen. So we have moved on to other things separately. But those other things will likely have more power than the former things and that is the concern that Schmidt and his advisors see on the horizon.
So as things continue on, I will miss Schmidt and his window into oblivion—where his kind considers anything with a three syllable word—“kooky,” or “scary.” There is value in studying the problem, but as often is the case the problem when it knows that eyes are on their tail retreats into a hiding place trying to buy additional moments for its sustenance. But the time is running out—and they know it—even if they turn their eyes away hoping to maintain an illusion for just a moment longer.
Loss of life is always tragic, and is sad for the families. However, those who work as test pilots and adventurers know the risks and understand that death is a constant companion toward breaking the chains that shackle mankind’s freedom to the anchors of earthly conformity—so they risk their lives to chip away at those artificial limitations. In that context the most tragic circumstance of the Halloween disaster for Virgin Galactic—and all those of us who support its endeavors—is the loss of SpaceShipTwo. Although money can replace the $400 million dollar craft, the time and investment of resources which went into building the craft cannot be recovered. This will cause a serious schedule shift in Virgin Galactic’s intentions—which were to launch travelers into space during this upcoming year. It will likely take years to replace SpaceShipTwo meaning that this is a serious delay with the inevitable.
But do not mistake that these will not be the last tragedies. There will be many more, just as there was during the climb into the air with planes. Danger comes with adventure and only with adventure does mankind advance. It is necessary for mankind to scratch at the boundaries which confine it. It is that lack of boundary pushing that has put the clamps on NASA to in its current state—cancelled the Space Shuttle program without a replacement, and left those on earth scrambling for the same resources that they have for the last several thousand years. Those timid creatures of the earth, of the past, of the visibly tangible were too quick to delight in this accident in hopes that it might quell the reach for space by a civilian market place and take the pressure off their nerves imposed by an inner need for adventure.
I’m sure the cause of the crash will become evident and correctable, and once it is I would hope that flight tests would resume. If it were possible I would volunteer to fly today in another craft just to shake off the uncertainty of such tragedies and get the program back on its feet. As sad as it might seem to say it, the reach for space is more important than one life, or even a million lives. It is necessary for the furtherance of mankind—and without it, decay is our destiny.
I hope that Richard Branson will take his magnetic personality and shine it brightly in these dark hours to the lives of those who need it most. There is not time to mourn the dead and dying—because the hour-glass of humanity is emptying quickly—now advanced by this tragedy. The creators of SpaceShipTwo and all those at Virgin Galactic, and Spaceport of America need to get back on the horse quickly and show the world that they will not be timid but will push on to that barrier in the sky called space.
The mind of mankind is bigger than its flesh and earthly limitations. It has evolved into a species that can take abstract considerations and turn them into scientific reality. Space is not a vast empty void, but a land of opportunity. It is not cold and lost, but warm and present—it is there that the solutions to humanities problems reside so fret not over a tragedy while plucking the strings of innovation. Tune the action and try again quickly and without reservation—do it boldly without fear because not to is to retreat into the maw of the plague on earth that grips the mind of all that is terrestrial driven by a lack of resources and vision. Do not surrender to sorrow, but climb aboard the next flight and punch a hole in the sky with sheer determination. Get SpaceShipThree into the sky fast, and put bold adventurers on it equipped with the keys of logic and willpower to unlock that vastness to the encumbered minds of grounded ideology.
It is often said that a “grounded” personality is of the highest order among the human race. But it is they who are the first to point to the tragedy of Virgin Galactic and secretly relish in its tragedy. They are like the shadows in Plato’s cave in The Republic who desire to keep humanity facing a blank wall staring at the dancing shadows cast by firelight guessing what makes the shapes. Their great fear is that humanity might turn around and see that it is they who make the shadows and that behind them outside the cave is a reality they never imagined complete with a vast wilderness of shapes far more interesting. The dreamers and adventurers who break loose from that fixated position are the ones who escape to discover that there is much more to the shadows on a wall than what can be seen viewed from one direction. It should be understood that some will die in that escape, but the prize is worth the tragedy. Being grounded means that one is comfortable being regulated to the illusion of the cave images and not acting on a curiosity of understanding what casts those shadows to begin with. Being a dreamer means to break free to discover the mystery and push beyond those limitations to the real world outside of the control of illusions and dark caves depending on firelight to shape the perceptions of reality.
The ugliest girl I have ever met was the winner of a beauty pageant in Buffalo New York. She was by all measure the epitome of everything a male desires—except for one thing—she was a terrestrial being who hated Star Wars, made sure to let me know that she thought Godzilla movies were stupid, and that the worst film she had seen in during the 1980s was The Right Stuff. I stared at the woman as if she were the Medusa of Greek mythology—sent to earth as a beauty to turn man’s mind to stone and hold him to a terrestrial position forever as a metaphorical block of rock. There are far too many like this supposed beauty who today after the crash of Virgin Galactic’s innovative ambitions into the desert floor of the Mojave are there to soothsay the world into her stony gaze. Leaving that girl at the dinner table alone that evening was one of the best things I have ever done. The next step with her would have earned praise from humanity’s short-sighted grasp of reality—but would have forever bound me to a block of stone cast around my mind equivalent to Medusa’s gaze.
Medusa’s gaze is upon Virigin Galactic now. The temptation to cry for the cameras, to attend every funeral of every test pilot that will now or forever perish during attempts at space are there to hold the feet of mankind to blocks of rock forever claimering it to the jealous arms of mother earth. Medusa is the agent of earth created to keep that mother from crying at night from loneliness as it is but a corpse spinning through space destined to be destroyed by time itself. I beg those at Virgin Galactic to not look into the eyes of Medusa and become fixed like rock into passivity and caution. It is not the death of friends and family that will kill you—it is the loss of the dream to scratch at space that will. It is in allowing SpaceShipThree to become encumbered with red tape and bureaucratic nightmares that will stop the next great leap for mankind to launch into the freedom from earth’s clutches.
Richard Branson is one of the people I most admire. This will be his greatest moment or most perilous failure—for the Medusas of this earth will never let him live it down if he looks into their eyes for even a moment. He cannot get stuck now—the people at Virgin Galactic need to hear quickly that another $400 million dollar craft is ready to go and behind that ship is another, and another, and another. It will take everything Branson has to pull off this miracle now that the world has been tricked through tragedy into staring at the eyes of Medusa and her shadow on the cave wall into being fearful of the death that threatens all who try to escape earth. It is a time for rebellion, a time for adventurers, a time for boldness in breaking free of fear and for the first time stepping away from the nightmares of mythology for a new day beyond the grip of tragedy. SpaceShipThree needs to get into the air quickly! And ONLY Richard Branson can perform the task.
You might have heard that a group of progressive liberals want to rename the Norwood Lateral in Cincinnati after Barack Obama. At first this seemed like a terrible idea–absolutely appalling. Obama will be known in history as one of the most terrible American presidents ever—even worse than the worst. I don’t say that as a racist because I’m not—I would have gladly voted for Alan Keys, Herman Cain, or Ben Carson—skin color doesn’t concern me in the least. Rather it is the content of the character of the public official and Obama is dreadfully lacking. I do sometimes use the Norwood Lateral to get back over to I-75 when visiting downtown. If Obama’s name were on the road I would likely find another way—just because I would hesitate to use a road with Obama’s name on it even if it saved me some time. Channel 12 news reported the attempt this way:
NORWOOD, Ohio (Angenette Levy) — The Norwood Lateral could be renamed for President Barack Obama. State Sen. Eric Kearney has introduced legislation in the state legislature to rename State Route 562 for the nation’s 44rd president. “The Norwood Lateral would be renamed the Barack Obama Norwood Lateral because we have the Ronald Reagan Cross County Highway and so it would be a complimentary type of naming opportunity,” Sen. Kearney said. Kearney was a supporter of President Obama’s during his two election campaigns. Kearney said President Obama deserves the honor because he won Hamilton County twice as President Ronald Reagan did in the 1980’s. State Route 126 – also known as Cross County Highway – was named for Reagan in the 1990’s after he left office. “I don’t have a problem with that. I like President Obama,” said Norwood resident Charles Gatling. Norwood Mayor Tom Williams, a conservative democrat, wants the lateral’s name to stay the same. “I’m as opposed to it as I can get,” Mayor Williams said.
I am likely even more opposed to Barack Obama having a cat named after him, let alone a tax payer funded road. But, after some consideration, it might actually be appropriate as the Norwood Lateral actually does represent the Obama presidency. After all, the road does run past the parking lot that used to be the Norwood General Motors plant which used to build Camaros. Unions killed the productivity at that plant and now the jobs are gone. Also, the Norwood Lateral runs past the empty lot that used to be the Showcase Cinemas of Cincinnati—one of the largest and best movie theaters in the Midwest—just twenty years ago. Now it’s gone and is an empty lot filled with grass growing between the cracks in the pavement. Also, the Norwood Lateral runs by homes that used to be some of the best in the city, but are now considered Section 8 as government intrusion into the neighborhoods there have built a dependency culture that has destroyed the local economy and crushed future investment. Where the Norwood Lateral begins used to stand Cincinnati Milacron, a vast campus of precision machinery manufacturing that dried up and died by the year 2000, just eight years before Barack Obama became president—liberal policies and a nation of labor unions killed the machining market in America giving no place to go for Cincinnati Milacron but to close. Now the buildings which used to make such technical wonders are gone and replaced by some retail shopping selling shoes and cloths made in China
Perhaps the Norwood Lateral should be named after Barack Obama after all, as it represents what he has done to the nation of America during his tenure. I won’t drive on it any longer, but others who voted for that complete idiot would and could reap the world they helped to create—lost businesses, welfare expansion, and redistribution of wealth. The only thing Obama has created during his presidency was a wasteland. He will be the first president since perhaps the Civil War that has left America less than it was before he was first elected—a depleted place destroyed by progressive politics and old hippie economic philosophy.
There would be nothing worse for the economic development of Norwood going into the future than to remind Americans of such a ridiculously stupid and terrible president than to force them to see his name each time they drive down the Norwood Lateral. Social degenerates will love to see the name of their religious savior who stole from the productive and gave to the lazy, but unfortunately for Norwood the entire community will trend toward the latter and not the former, dooming the city forever. At least the current mayor of Norwood is smart enough to understand just how toxic the name of Barack Obama will be in the future. Obama is still fashionable among radical groups for the time being, but that window is quickly closing as history is about to cast its opinion of the debacle for posterity.
What’s even worse than the possibility of naming the Norwood Lateral after Obama, it is the sheer stupidity of suggesting it in the first place as the news headlines are currently filled with his immense failures. It is a terrible idea brought forth with equally terrible timing. Naming the Norwood Lateral after the diminished president would seal the fate of Norwood forever—because there are people who feel even stronger about the guy than me and just the site of such a name is enough to cause them to go someplace else. It’s not due to race, but the reminder of such a failure. Nobody wants to remember the terrible game their favorite team played, nobody wants to remember the time they did something embarrassing—and nobody will want to remember a president who was such a sheer failure. They will do whatever they can to overlook that failure in the future and those who wish to remember are the types who are capable of nothing short of destruction.
I am likely to continue talking about the new movie Interstellar for quite a long time—because it is the latest and most exciting philosophic/scientific endeavor aimed at a mass audience that I can think of, and is a vastly important film. Below is one of the first reviews from Variety and should be read by anyone on the fence considering seeing the movie. It will tell you everything you need to know about the film. But more specific to the film and an equal part of its majesty is the music by Hans Zimmer. The score is mind-blowing good and may well eclipse the iconic music of 2001: A Space Odyssey as instantly recognizable. So it deserves to be known that Hans Zimmer, one of the premier musical composers of our age and on par in history to be known among the giants of Straus, Beethoven, and Mozart did poorly in school and did not attend college. Listen to the man himself talk about his education—or lack thereof—and what he believes is the path to success that most should take.
There isn’t a college in the country who can teach a student with tuition charges to be as good at conceiving and conducting music for films as Hans Zimmer is. There is not a band program out there who can teach an army of others to become another Hans Zimmer. The best way to become another Hans Zimmer is to get near him and start learning—then applying his techniques at decision-making and problem solving into the individual experience of the student. A school cannot teach those skills with memorization techniques. Only through natural aptitude and practice can one hope to become as proficient. There is no way to cheat the system by throwing money at a skill hoping that it can be purchased. The kind of skill that Hans Zimmer has is only obtained one way, through lots of hard work and dedication while maintaining his uniqueness on the curb of perception.
Yet government schools and colleges all across the world suggest that they can produce such people if tuition dollars are applied, and the results never come back with satisfaction. There are many who aspire to become like Hans Zimmer and they may even learn to play his songs at a high school football game through a band program, but they cannot teach a student to become a person equal to the skill of Hans Zimmer with just scholastic education methods. The aspiring artist if they have a hope of such lofty heights must apprentice themselves to someone equivalent to the value they wish to achieve and start with a total dedication of themselves to the craft. Advice is only as good as the person who gives it.
Once when I wrote an article about the failure of a band teacher from our local high school the parents of the students sent me many nasty emails about my opinions. It wasn’t hard to conclude that their vast anger was inspired by a deeply rooted fear that they had in realizing that money could not purchase skill for their children—as they wished to believe. When the famed band teacher fell from grace and was cast aside by the district as a vagabond it was feared that his students would fall as well—as if their success was attached directly to his star. Much to the terror of the parents the real answer was that their children were learning nowhere near enough about music to become anything but copycats in the music industry. They were learning to play the instruments, but they weren’t learning to make music that would play from them—which is a big difference. And these days, anybody can practice playing music with a software program. What needs to be taught are the ways that notes can be composed into new forms of music that reveals the inner sanctum of thought and all human possibilities.
It is for that reason that I seldom ever listen to any “pop” music. My iPod doesn’t have a single music track in eight gig of memory that is not a movie soundtrack of some epic intention. Over a third of my soundtracks on that iPod are Hans Zimmer scores. I still listen to Gladiator at least once a week which I think is one of his best pieces of work. Music should speak about possibilities and achievement, not just passive witnessing of the world around the listener. Band students and music classes in general are not learning about the epic scale of a subject matter, they are simply learning to repeat the work of Hans Zimmer.
If I were to attempt to teach such students I would not do so in front of a class in a stale government school with brick walls and blackboards with the smell of lunch drifting down the halls promising frozen pizza and tatter tots among several hundred other students emitting waves of pent-up rage at adolescent frustrations. I’d have them climb a mountain with sweat pouring off their foreheads then piping the Gladiator soundtrack into their tired ears as they sip for life-sustaining water from a canteen warmed by body heat. Then I’d ask them to compose the first notes that came to their minds based on their experience once the music had been silenced. That is how you learn to compose music, not just copy the notes of Hans Zimmer.
I can’t say how many times I have now listened to the Man of Steel soundtrack even in the minus zero degree temperatures on the back of a motorcycle as the snow was falling ever so ferociously—with my fingertips so frozen that they were in great pain. It has now been more than a dozen at least and each time brought the notes to a grand fortissimo inside my helmet that spoke of another world reality of possibility well beyond the grips of conventional manhood. While most men are first concerned in the morning with where they will use the rest room, what they will eat, where they will dispel their sexual appetites, and how they will earn the acclaim of their peers—such music under such circumstances dictate higher thoughts far more epic than the animal wants of flesh. It is only under those extreme conditions that Hans Zimmer can be understood as notes put upon a blank page as opposed to copied the way a band conductor of a local high school teaches students how to blow a horn and put on a show for their proud parents with their video cameras out to record the occasion—and a “yes” vote during levy time for the memory. On the way home from such concerts the parents foolishly declare that their child may become the next Hans Zimmer because they learned to play the Pirates of the Caribbean soundtrack. But the students never see the music as from the feelings of observation—they simply memorize the motions put in place for them by someone like Hans Zimmer.
Too many people believe wrongly that being “credentialed” equates to success. They believe that if a music instructor at a school somewhere says that a student knows something—that they know it. Yet they fail 100% of the time to create future Hans Zimmer types no matter how much money is spent on music programs and government school electives. Those good at music are still those with a natural appetite to take their skills to the next levels through extremely hard work and persistence. Credentialed these days has been regulated into being symphonious with security—and that is a path to average—which is not what Hans Zimmer’s music is about at all. His music is much more than that and is why I listen to it with great zeal and marvel at its uniqueness. That uniqueness is why it’s a joy to hear—and thus far, as admitted by Zimmer himself, is why schools cannot duplicate the efforts of the award-winning history making composer even with all the money in the world. That is because his music does not come from comfort, but experience, in a life lived and felt as opposed to copied and mimicked—and is why Hans Zimmer’s score for Interstellar will literally take people out of this world. Zimmer actually let his mind leave this world to write the music—and that is a grand achievement!
