Pandemonium for dummies: all posts

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Delude this Richard Dawkins

Believer:

"I believe in something that is greater than I am, something that is omniscient, omnipotent and omnipresent. I call that something 'God.' God is all-powerful; there is nothing more powerful than God. God knows everything. God is everywhere."

Scientist/Pantheist:

"There are many forces and powers in the universe, such as gravity and electromagnetism, to name just two. The universe is pretty potent. In fact, by definition there is no potency at all outside of the universe, which makes the universe omnipotent."

"Omniscience? Well, by definition nothing is known outside of the universe. There is no knowledge, data, or information outside of the universe. There are no knowers outside of the universe. Everything there is to be known is known by the knowers of the universe. The universe is omniscient."

"Omnipresence? Well, by definition all places are in the universe. There are no places outside of the universe. There is no presence outside of the universe. Everything present in the universe is present in the universe. There is no place for presence to be other than in the universe. The universe is omnipresent."

Believer:

"So we don't really disagree about the facts, do we? We only disagree about which labels to apply."

(With apologies to Richard Dawkins. Actually, I'm a great fan of your work. I'm just being provocative: taking a leaf from your book!)

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eBooks by Cosmic Rapture
(for kindle, tablet, smartphone or e-reader.)

NIGHTMERRIES: THE LIGHTER SIDE OF DARKNESS. This so-called "book" will chew you up, spit you out, and leave you twitching and frothing on the carpet. More than 60 dark and feculent fictions (read ‘em and weep) copiously and grotesquely illustrated.

AWAREWOLF & OTHER CRHYMES AGAINST HUMANITY (Vot could be Verse?). We all hate poetry, right? But we might make an exception for this sick and twisted stuff. This devil's banquet of adults-only offal features more than 50 satanic sonnets, vitriolic verses and odious odes.

MANIC MEMES & OTHER MINDSPACE INVADERS. A disturbing repository of quirky quotes, sayings, proverbs, maxims, ponderances, adages and aphorisms. This menagerie holds no fewer than 184 memes from eight meme-species perfectly adapted to their respective environments.

MASTRESS & OTHER TWISTED TAILS. An unholy corpus of oddities, strangelings, bizarritudes and peculiaritisms, including but not limited to barbaric episodes of herring-flinging and kipper-kissing. A cacklingly bizarre read that may induce fatal hysteria. Not Recommended!

FIENDS & FREAKS and serpents, dragons, devils, lobsters, anguished spirits, hungry ghosts, hell-beings, zombies, organ-grinders, anti-gods, gods and other horse-thieves you wouldn't want to meet in a dark cosmos. Immature Content! Adults Maybe.

HAGS TO HAGGIS. An obnoxious folio featuring a puke of whiskey-soaked war-nags, witches, maniacs, manticores and escapegoats. Not to mention (please don't!) debottlenecking and desilofication, illustrated. Take your brain for a walk on the wild side. Leave your guts behind.

The Keys to My Karma

Many long years since I put pen to paper
My mind's full of mist or possibly vapour

And so my new poem is bound to be vapid
whether or not the wordflow is rapid.

But what can I tell you, what have I learned?
What have I clung to, what have I spurned?

Fell in love with my self for a decade or three
but came to my senses eventually.

And then I began to notice my flaws
transgressions, obsessions and festering sores.

I felt down, I felt out, and very unhappy
My life seemed so empty, and yes, rather crappy.

Until I remembered the rule that is golden
the one that ensures one is never beholden.

As long as you give as much as you get
you'll be free as a bird, don't ever forget.

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eBooks by Cosmic Rapture
(for kindle, tablet, smartphone or e-reader.)

The Reluctant Sangoma

High in the Maluti Mountains of Lesotho is the remote settlement of Ha Khotso – a handful of thatched huts inside one of which a 12-year-old Black girl lies in a high fever on her sleeping-mat, unable to rise.

Bohlale’s (Bo’s) ordeal began a few days before, when she pricked her finger with a rusty sewing needle while mending a blanket.

Now, she feels dizzy and nauseous; sweat streams off her in rivulets. Aching muscles and joints, a throbbing pain that pulses through her skull, and extreme lethargy compound her suffering. The stench of infection permeates the hut. Lacking the strength to even sit up, she relies on her mother, Mosa, to lift her head and guide the water-calabash to her lips. Her thirst is unrelenting and unquenchable. She is confused and non-responsive.

There is a rudimentary medical clinic in the area – a bare-basics facility serving the village and nearby settlements. From Ha Khotso the clinic is a demanding hike which – Mosa knows – Bo is in no condition to undertake. Instead, Mosa decides to call in the sangoma, the village shaman, to assess her daughter’s condition.

In her leopard-skin cloak, paws draped over her shoulders, the sangoma is imposing and formidable. A powerfully built woman, necklaces of beads and bones and shells hang in heavy loops around her neck. Her wrists and ankles are similarly adorned. Streaks of clay and ochre adorn her stern countenance.

“Thank you, thank you,” says Mosa frantically, “My daughter needs your help. Please come inside.”

The sangoma enters the hut. She circles Bo’s sleeping-mat, chanting the words of power. Rhythmically she stamps the earthen floor with her bare feet, shaking a gourd rattle in a syncopated polyrhythm to induce the state required to engage with the spirits of the ancestors.

Then squatting on her haunches, she sketches a series of symbols onto the ground with a stick of charcoal. Next, to cleanse the chamber of negative energies, she tosses a bundle of dried Lengana (wormwood) leaves on the still-smouldering hearth; the resinous fragrance permeates the darkness of the hut.

Mosa sits on a stool outside the hut, foreboding mingled with concern.

An hour later, the sangoma emerges from the hut wearing a grave expression.

“She has been called,” asserts the sangoma authoritatively. “The ancestors have work for her, important tasks she must fulfill. Should she neglect these tasks, a grave curse will fall upon her. Her affliction will continue until she answers the call.”

“What are these tasks?” inquires Mosa, “How can she be expected to do anything in this state?”

“The tasks will be revealed when she attains the required proficiency. Her training must begin without delay,” responds the sangoma. “Her potential is vast, her strength considerable.”

“But she is extremely ill. Can you not help her?”

“We must take her to the Cave of the Ancestors,” responds the sangoma.

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decoherence

final version, "Decoherence", oils on art paper, 42cmx30cm

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Feeding time

Some humans lack the willpower
they'll gorge themselves obese
and when they die, well then goodbye
wonders never cease!

Fish get by on gillpower
they'll eat anything you've got.
Chum and scum and guts and tripes
and worms and grubs -- the lot

Whales fill up on krillpower
omnivorous they are not!!
There's species that eat weirder stuff
like faeces, piss and snot.

Speedfreaks use their pillpower
they really don't eat much
their bones poke through their broken flesh
which bleeds at the slightest touch.

Bakers use their millpower
to grind up wheat for bread
we roast for toast to butter up
and smear our favourite spread.

Windows use their sillpower
so we can put down stuff
plants and bongs and keys and thongs
(I'll stop now, it's enough!)

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Crimson King

Court of the Crimson King, 35 x 45 cm, oils on canvas

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eBooks by Cosmic Rapture
(for kindle, tablet, smartphone or e-reader.)

When in doubt pathologise!

Doctors study long and hard
how not to get themselves disbarred

Med school's where they learn their trade
some specialise in getting laid

and on the day they graduate
they take some time to celebrate

they sally forth, they boldly go
to make a name and pots of dough

always keeping front of mind
the foremost lesson of their kind:

"If you're uncertain or unwise
when in doubt, pathologise!"

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eBooks by Cosmic Rapture
(for kindle, tablet, smartphone or e-reader.)

Thaumaturge

Thaumaturge -- Oil on paper, 29.7 x 42.0 mm

A Spasm of Vitriolic Verses, Hellacious Haiku, Pustulent Poems, Satanic Sonnets, Lupine Limericks and Odious Odes.

AWAREWOLF AND OTHER CRHYMES AGAINST HUMANITY (vot could be verse?)

A Spasm of Vitriolic Verses, Hellacious Haiku, Pustulent Poems, Satanic Sonnets, Lupine Limericks and Odious Odes. Read 'em on any device: Tablet, Smartphone, e-Reader, Laptop or Desktop.

Now at Amazon, for 99 measly cents: https://amzn.to/2zH0bJz

Adults-only, read 'em and weep. Here's a sample:

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footlong and fancy-free: why size doesn't matter

Joule's apparatus for measuring the mechanical equivalent of heat energy. A descending weight attached to a string causes a paddle immersed in water to rotate. Caption by Wikipedia, 6 May 2014.

No energy? No matter!

Zero, zip, nada, none: that's how much is left after you turn matter into energy, via a bomb or a power station. But what kind of power station is best? It's actually impossible to say.

I’ve heard that coal-fired power stations are dirty, wind-farms are ugly, and nuclear power stations are dangerous (but much more efficient at producing energy).

Do you agree? I don’t, and I’ll provide the supporting logic in a minute. But first let’s unpack the conventional wisdom and hold it up to the light until it withers and dies!

Power stations are designed to transform matter into energy, or one form of energy into another. If you’ve got nothing better to do, you can use Einstein’s equation, E=MC2, to work out the energy equivalent of the mass1 of any given chunk of matter. The equation says that energy (E) equals mass (M) multiplied by the speed of light (C) squared.

I’ve heard that the reason why you get so much energy via nuclear processes2 is that the speed of light (squared) is such a big number. Really?

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The Great Reset

The Great Reset -- Oil on canvas, 62 x 92cm

Two thousand and twenty was a year of great plenty
...of worries and troubles and woe!
This year let’s just hope that we’ll manage to cope
but will we? I really don’t know.

Let’s try and remember at least till December
the lessons that lockdown has taught us.
Lest we forget and remain in huge debt
mourning what money once bought us.

If you worked from your home, with no need to roam
don’t whine about missing the City.
You still had a job, so don’t cry and don’t sob
instead try to learn about Pity.

When you’ve finished your crap, just turn on the tap
don’t sweat if you’ve run out of paper.
Or use some dried grass to wipe off your ass
or a stick as a handy shit-scraper.

If wearing a mask is an onerous task,

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Twilight Zone

Haven't done a dark painting in a while. And thank Ahura Mazda for that! It's 45.5 cm x 35.5 cm, oils on board. Called Twilight Zone, ungodlily enough...

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Escapegoat

57 Chevy Goat Head limited giclee print. Handmade. By Zachary Prior

57 Chevy Goat Head limited giclee print. 5"x 7" on a black 8" x 10" matt board. By Zachary Prior.

His name was Godfrey. His prison nickname was “Goat”. He yearned for a normal life, but had never Toad the line for long enough to settle down.

He’d been arrested on a Poultry charge of Storking, which would have meant a non-custodial sentence had he not been caught Badgering a witness. Six months into his jail-time, Goat had taken the opportunity to escape. Since then he’d been on the Lamb, Pigs Dogging his every move.

It was raining heavily as Goat made his way to where his girlfriend Gwyneth lived. He knocked on the door. No response. Standing in the rain, he knocked again. Still nothing. He smelled a Rat. It was all very Fishy but what choice did he have?

Goat shouted himself Horse. Finally, the door opened.

Come in out of the Reindeer,” said Gwyneth.

“Hey Gwin, what kept ya?” said Goat, “I was starting to suspect Fowl play.”

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Divine Masturbation

Background image: Hubble Space Telescope. Animation by Cosmic Rapture.

Long, long ago at the dawn of time
even before the primordial slime
when stretching ahead were all the millennia
in which quite a lot, if not more, even many a
tragic mistake or foul evil plot
lay in the future but not at year dot.

Right at the top of history’s first page
when many an era and aeon and age
loomed far ahead to the greatest extent
was writ a uniquely dramatic event
that some call the Bang that was huge if not big
(please pass me my drink and light me a cig).

It wasn’t just huge, the bang was gigantic
God had felt mellow and flirty, romantic
sultry and horny and steamy and loose
in the mood to create not just reproduce
it’s really not strange, unusual or odd
to find thoughts of love in the mind of a god.

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Ode to My Job

. 'Arbeit macht frei' is a German phrase meaning 'Work shall set you free' found above the entrances to a number of Nazi concentration camps during World War II. More than 70 years later, almost everyone is an inmate of the global concentration camp of modern human culture.

Work doesn't make us free, it enslaves us. A person at work is a person with no identity. Ze is not a person, just a uniform, a suit. A person at work has no mind of zer own, no brains, no head. As the painting suggests, the body of a person at work ends at the neck.

The corporatisation of human life and culture proceeds at an accelerating rate. One of the results is the destruction of our humanity itself. Another is the destruction of the planet.

A person at work is a psychopath with no personal values, just a fake but hearty enthusiasm for the values of the corporation. Every morning, when we walk into the workplace, we leave our personal values at the door. We're all psychopaths, these days, or sociopaths if you're into labels. We repress and suppress our personhood, our empathy, at the behest of the employer. That's why there are cruel red eyes in the lapels of a pin-striped suit. They are the insane eyes of one who has lost zer personhood.

And yet, as Jesus is said to have said, "Consider the lilies of the field, how they grow; they toil not, neither do they spin. And yet I say unto you, That even Solomon in all his glory was not arrayed like one of these."

And here we are, 2000 years later, toiling and spinning for dear life, and not liking it very much at all.

Painting by SRS, oils on board, 54.5 x 74.5 cm.

No agenda was tabled
No meeting was chaired
All came who were abled
No-one was spared.

No minutes were red
The suits were all blue
All heard what was said
About what they should do.

No actions were listed
As open or closed
No task-owners queried
No deadlines imposed.

The guest speaker rose
He got to his feet
Assumed a cool pose
Said “Hi there, I’m Pete!”

That’s what he said
When he got up to speak
No hat on his head
At the meeting that week.

So why was he there
At the Monday team meeting?
Dark suit and great hair
Fake warmth in his greeting?

And what did he say
That well-groomed consultant
On that awful day
What was the resultant?

"Your boss couldn’t be here
He was feeling quite tired
But He asked me to tell you
You’re gone, you’re all fired!

"Not moved or suspended
And not redeployed.
We recommended
Now you’re unemployed."

For those who ...

... CONTINUES in ... AWAREWOLF & Other Crhymes Against Humanity for kindle, tablet, smartphone or e-reader.

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eBooks by Cosmic Rapture
(for kindle, tablet, smartphone or e-reader.)

A Capella Science - Bohemian Gravity!

Professional inquiries: acapellascience [at] snamanagement [dot] com.
Lyrics and arrangement by Tim Blais and A Capella Science
Original music by Queen

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The Law of the Conservation of Crap

Photo of Planet Earth by Flicker user DonkeyHotey under CC Attribution License. "My Daily Poo": Photo of toilet bowl by Billy Danner on his page at dailyscat dot blogspot dot com dot au. Animation by masterymistery.

Most critters including humans get their get-up-and-go from the stuff they eat and drink. And they get stuff to eat and drink by using their get-up-and-go to hunt or fish or harvest crops or stroll to the nearest McDonalds.

Scientists say you can’t create or destroy get-up-and-go. You can only change it into a different form of get-up-and-go, or into stuff.

Likewise, they say you can’t create or destroy stuff, you can only change it into other stuff or into get-up-and-go. For example, you can’t destroy a Big Mac, you can only change it into stuff.

By now you’re thinking this post is just a load of reprocessed burger. You’re probably snarling into your thickshake, “who says you can't make new stuff or get rid of existing stuff?”

“Says the Law!”

“What frickin’ law?”

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Dreamtime: the De-flattening (wild turkey dreaming)

Supposedly the biggest monolithic rock on the planet, "Uluru, ... also known as Ayers Rock ... is a large sandstone rock formation in ... central Australia. ... Kata Tjuta, also called Mount Olga or the Olgas, lies 25 km (16 mi) west of Uluru." (Wikipedia, 2 Dec. 2016)
Animation combines photograph of Uluru by Mark Gray (markgray dot com dot au) and bark painting of rainbow serpent by John Mawurndjul.

In the Dreamtime before time and space the Great Serpent Koniara slithered and thrashed mightily, creating the Land of Oz, the Sky above, and the Sea that washed its shores. And when his mighty slithering was done, Koniara called a great Corroboree to honour his creation.

Among those who came to the Corroboree was the scaly crocodile, Gumungung, who spake unto Koniara, saying, “O Great One, what thee or thou have wrought is awesome and immense, but there is no colour, no excitement, no magic or joy in the Land. As far as the eye can see, all is red and brown and flat as a toenail. And that’s more dull and boring than a pub with no beer. And newsflash: it’s also way too frickin’ hot!”

“My sacred doings be not to thy satisfaction,” quoth Koniara unto Gumungung, “and yet I made the whole ball of wax in just two days not six, and I didn’t need to chuck a sickie on the seventh neither.”

“More elbow grease maybe, that might have helped,” quoth Kuruku the Kookaburra, whose laughter rang out long and loud in the dry and beerless air.

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The Legend of the Dog-faced Woman

Animation based on detail from Triptych of Earthly Vanity and Divine Salvation, painted by Hans Memling c. 1485

Every year there is a date
on which all parents hold a feast
they eat and drink and celebrate
a certain hairy, monstrous beast
who growls as bad kids meet their fate
so listen up as I relate...
the Legend of the Dog-faced Woman.

Once two kids of Satan's spawn
an evil boy, the girl a bitch
came upon a magic thorn
with which they pricked a sad old witch
and that was when the curse was sworn
and thus it was that then was born...
the Legend of the Dog-faced Woman.

When children disrespect their mums
or fail to listen to their dads
when kids forget to wipe their bums
or won't switch channels in the ads
or scream or sulk or suck their thumbs
tell them a tale, and here it comes...
The Legend of the Dog-faced Woman.

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The Gospel of Scissors Paper Rock

animation to illustrate scissors paper rock, by SRS/CR/MM

In Japan, Mushi-ken is one of the earliest rock-paper-scissor or sansukumi-ken games. Published in the Kensarae sumai zue by Yoshinami and Gojaku. From left to right: Slug (蚰蜒 namekuji), frog (蛙 kawazu), and snake (蛇 hebi). The frog defeats the slug, the slug defeats the snake, and the snake defeats the frog. (Wikipedia 26 Nov. 2016)

Rock blunts scissors
The massive dead stone of ignorance and superstition blunts and smashes the keen sharp mind seeking truth.

Scissors cuts paper
The mind that is too keen and too sharp cuts the paper on which truth is written into disconnected shreds of reductionism and limited perspective.

Paper wraps rock
With lightness and breadth, truth enfolds and conceals the massive dead stone of ignorance and superstition.

Published in MANIC MEMES & OTHER MINDSPACE INVADERS, a disturbing repository of quirky quotes, sayings, proverbs, maxims, ponderances, adages and aphorisms. This menagerie holds no fewer than 184 memes from eight meme-species perfectly adapted to their respective environments. for kindle, tablet, smartphone or e-reader.

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