Mortaljive: The Rest is Silence

There is no still point in all the Universe, and that is the rock upon which I stand

Sunday, March 28, 2010

Damned if you think, damned if you don't



If you are free to think, then you are free to agree with the comment. You are also free to disagree. If you are not a free thinker, then you might agree with the comment out of a sense of fealty to some religious authority, but you still came to the thought freely. If you are a slave you are Satan's free thinker, perhaps. And Satan's free thinker is constrained by a negative relationship with a rather bad sort of daemon. So you are free to be a slave, and a slave to what you think when you are free.

Good luck with that.

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Friday, March 26, 2010

The Opinuary Column



The Opinion "The story of Jesus causing a deaf man to hear was intended to display his power and his godliness among Christians" has died. In truth, the New Testament tale was intended as a way to lure deaf boys into the pedophilic embraces of a Catholic priest in Wisconsin, though deaf and non-deaf prey have also been violated at too many other parishes to count. The Opinion leaves no known survivors.

It is believed that Jesus did not put a stop to Reverend Lawrence Murphy's physical and spiritual transgressions against hearing-impaired adolescent boys because of the non-disclosure clause that contractually bound him to not lift a finger in defense of the victims. Uncontrollable lust is fairly common in a fair number of sexually suppressed clerics, who because of their priestly vows abstain from adult relationships and instead fuck children. Deaf boys are a particularly good subject for the warped glandular longings of God's shepherds due to the hapless lads being scuttled off to mope at the margins of society anyway, the better to pick them off with impunity. One may long for the halcyon fields of heaven and bliss everlasting, but first check out what's under this frock is the bouncy catechism that has charmed the pants off of many a silent lad.

As the Opinion grew older it did receive some help from Cardinal Joseph Ratzinger, who would one day become the first Vampire Pope. Upon being told of the unsavory activities of Reverend Murphy then Cardinal Ratzinger placed his hands over his ears as his long, claw-like fingernails penetrated deeply into his skull and his eyes tumbled far back in his head, even as an eerie plume of brackish smoke snaked its way across his lolling tongue and rose menacingly into the air. Asked about this strange episode (he was also asked about the large pile of bat guano directly beneath his gown) the head of the Catholic Church claimed he had been playing an intense game of charades with the Holy Spirit. And the good news was he won!

In lieu of flowers, the Vatican asks that you consider just forgetting about the whole thing. And don't forget to drop by your local Catholic Church and confess your sins: you don't want God mad at you, do you?

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The Opinuary Column appears most Fridays at Jesus' General.

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Tuesday, March 23, 2010

Sir Tedrick, of Darkish Hue



Ted, known as Teddy
and also known as Tedrick
has passed into the vanishing point
where everyone must go

To my friends in Silverton
who loved and cared for
a funny old bear:
the last part of his journey
was in your able hands
and you did not let him down

peace upon this earth
and much love to Teddy

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Friday, March 19, 2010

The Opinuary Column



The Opinion "You should listen to Glenn Beck, and do what he tells you to do!" has passed away while visiting relatives in Utah. Cause of death has been listed as terminal asphyxiation as a result of choking on a stick of white chalk. The Opinion was believed to be eight or nine years of age.

The Opinion's last public appearance was March 18th, when it reminded everyone who was willing to listen that Mr. Beck knows the mind of the metaphorical abstraction often referred to as the Lord and has the inside track on how fast Jesus was traveling when he blasted off from earth some 2,000 years ago.*

In lieu of flowers the family of the Opinion ask that you poke yourself in the eye until tears come out. Or smear VicksĀ® VapoRubĀ® ointment just above your cheekbones. Remember, if you can fake sincerity, you can pass for human!

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The Opinuary Column appears most Fridays at Jesus' General.

*Just after His resurrection, Jesus Christ was clocked at 183,000 miles per second, a World Redeemer record!

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Monday, March 15, 2010

Pacific Northwest Avatar



if i articulated my arms
and covered them
in dense green fabric
if i renamed my eyes
just to see in silence

i might wake up and
my thoughts might grow roots
my veins to streams
my purpose unknown
but i will taste the earth
and i will hear the water falling
like dancers in their tumbles

as a tree i still love dancers


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Image taken in Silver Falls State Park
by mjs

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Sunday, March 14, 2010

After All These Years



Steve Earle has a mighty fine yearning. Mighty fine. I first heard this tune back when it came out in 2002, in the still hot ashes of 9/11. Hard, reactionary forces had been unleashed in the media and in government, and the thundering drums of trumped-up war were beating in the land. On the inside of his "Jerusalem" CD Mr. Earle wrote:
We are a people perpetually balanced on a tightrope stretched between our history and our potential, one faltering step away from a headlong tumble from the most dizzying of heights. But fear not--we're working with a net.




Poets, singers and truth tellers are a big part of our safety net. Long may they call it like they see it. Thank you, Mr. Earle, now and always.

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Friday, March 12, 2010

The Opinuary Column



The Opinion "Cats are native to earth" has died. They aren't. Because humans lack the proper visual aids (i.e. astral feline spectrometers) that would clearly reveal cats to be the galactic invaders that they actually are, humans have historically assumed that cats are from our planet. We could not be more wrong. Our weakly constructed assumption regarding the meowing Warhol rats has taken us down the garden path to clumpy litter boxes, the culinary wonder known as Hair Ball Upchuck Surprise and Late Night Cat Ass Theater (as played out on my chest around 3:45 a.m.--it's not as sexy as it sounds). It all gets much, much worse, which amuses these felons no end.

The Opinion had its dirty little mutant beginnings in some fancy-schmancy biology factory where it gained acceptance among some of the most pitiful, myopic and hopelessly data-dependent geeks the world has ever known. Regardless of the patently evil and profoundly alien behaviors of said cats, many tenure-gobbling members of academia have promulgated the false notion that cats are an organic feature of this third planet from the sun. Have any of these Ivy Catnip Leagers ever actually had actual cats? Have any of these self-satisfied nativists ever plummeted to their deaths while fratting about in their ivory towers, having begun the descent of a stairway just as a feline times its open-field running to coincide with one's setting one's foot down on a perilous step--a mad adjustment ensues, an ankle is twisted, and a hopeless human cascades unto death, all at the paws of space invaders? These stairway murders, which occur daily all over America, are the work of aliens: malevolent, whiskered interlopers sent here to purr in our laps like mechanical harlots, only to lull us into a false sense of bestial familiarity. They promise pleasure but dig their claws in at the slightest effort to remove them, their loving just a pretense as they were obviously searching for weakly defended arteries.

Have you ever wondered about the companies that sell cat food? Who, besides a money-grubbing capitalist, would ever spend time and energy on the tinning and distribution of food made especially for alien vermin? Have you ever been to a cat food factory? Truth be told no one has. No one in their right mind would ever go to a cat food factory, which is why it's the perfect cover for these extra-planetary miscreants to carry out their heinous plot to make us all fall down and die. And then when we are dead and the aliens have fed on our corpses, they will frolic and twitter their success, only to spit us up over and over until our remains are bland and tawny and not even good on a cracker.

In lieu of flowers, the family of the late Opinion rolfed up a huge piece of something hideous and then sprinted downstairs and hid beneath the futon couch, where they are crying and bitching about something or other. A private service will be held before the final invasion of the planet commences. The Opinion is survived by a field mouse, a terrified, worldly little field mouse. You can see the absolute horror in his eyes: he knows a hawk from a handsaw, by gum. And you should too.

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The Opinuary Column appears most Fridays at Jesus' General.

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Tuesday, March 09, 2010

Transimmanent Canine



thinkers deep, in holy battle
wrestle with concepts ordained
ineffable, yet hear them rattle
the cry complex, yet very plain

some say the world is god transcendent
a meta source for all that is
yet others see illuminescence
all informed of rapture, bliss

chauncy is my soul provider
mortal flesh and yet divine
he charms my heart, i am dependent
i am his and he is mine

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Sunday, March 07, 2010

More Fun With the Oregon Snail Cloud

I liked this image of a cloud taken while I was driving south on the 205 (not far from where it meets up with Interstate 5 in Wilsonville/Tualatin). I liked it so much here are two more versions...





I don't know if this matters to anybody, but when has that stopped me before?

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Friday, March 05, 2010

The Opinuary Column



The Opinion "While American Christians continue to struggle to come to grips with their rampant homophobia, hypocrisy, and constant judging of their fellow human beings, the real menace to a world that needs aid and assistance is liberal snootiness and snobbishness" has died as a result of a backhanded bitch-slap, also known as Collateral Smashness.

The Opinion was believed to have been born at the first Council of Bishops in Nicaea in A.D. 325 (where it was decided that god must be kept distant and outside of the world, lest the people get any funny ideas about an immanent experience of the ineffable) where it lived an idyllic childhood awaiting the discovery of the Americas some eleven hundred and seventy years later. With the New World offering excellent opportunities to prosper in the sugar cane, tobacco and cotton industries, many Christians came on board and participated in the enforced slavery of Africans, who laughed and sang all day in the serene Eden that was the New World. Through human ownership Christians could bond even closer with their lord and savior, who had taken the whips (and much scorn) on his march to Calvary much the same way the brutalized human property of American Christians had themselves enjoyed.

The Opinion's final years were bittersweet as church attendance dropped while self-described believers increased in number: more and more people came to believe that god loved them and wanted them to have lots of guns at home and in the campground, also allowing that their heavenly father wasn't keen on them being treated for pre-existing conditions by their healthcare provider. The creeping suspicion that True Believers were being played for saps by wealthy, vested interests was stymied when it was reported that atheists were snooty and snobby, global warming was a fiction and that dinosaurs had walked the earth with Barry Goldwater. To have suggested to True Believers that the world was not a child's nursery, a madly littered garden filled with the toys of a personal creator god, would have made you a spoilsport poopy head and doo-doo butt nose. Don't smirk, asshole.

In lieu of flowers the family of the Opinion ask that you consider walking the streets of America with hot branding irons, burning them into the blasphemous flesh of those who dare not to believe (literally!) the Levantine variant of the dying and resurrected hero-god myths. And make that branding iron stick out by having it transfer the letter "A" onto the skins of the snooty, snobby minority. If you can keep your head while all those around you are losing theirs and blaming it on you then you are probably one of those stuck-up, elitist liberal types. Should our Lord Jesus Christ offer you a tumbler of Sangria don't start blathering about bouquet or how it would go well with the right Camembert. Just down it quickly and shut up before it turns back into blood.

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The Opinuary Column appears most Fridays at Jesus' General.

No Middle Eastern Gods were harmed in the writing of this Opinuary Column.

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Tuesday, March 02, 2010

Wolves and Gas



the drunken buddha walked with wolves
but only for a time
he would not leash them
and they parted
after that the buddha farted

i guess you had to not be there

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