John Coleman
MI6, SIS
{FlanaganFailteWhisper-HawkIsleVIICead}
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MI6, SIS
{FlanaganFailteWhisper-HawkIsleVIICead}
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A Short History of Nearly Everything
by Bill Bryson
The Reverend Evan’s Universe
When the skies are clear and the Moon is not too bright, the Reverend Robert Evans, a quiet and cheerful man, lugs a bulky telescope onto the back sun-deck of his home in the Blue Mountains of Australia, about 80 kilometres west of Sydney, and does an extraordinary thing. He looks deep into the past and finds dying stars.
When the skies are clear and the Moon is not too bright, the Reverend Robert Evans, a quiet and cheerful man, lugs a bulky telescope onto the back sun-deck of his home in the Blue Mountains of Australia, about 80 kilometres west of Sydney, and does an extraordinary thing. He looks deep into the past and finds dying stars.
..
Looking into the past is, of course, the easy part. Glance at the night sky and what you see is history and lots of it – not the stars as they are now but as they were when their light left them. For all we know, the North Star, our faithful companion, might actually have burned out last January or in 1854 or at any time since the early fourteenth century and news of it just hasn’t reached us yet. The best we can say – can ever say – is that it was still burning on this date 680 years ago. Stars die all the time. What Bob Evans does better than anyone else who has ever tried is spot these moments of celestial farewell.
By day, Evans is a kindly and now semi-retired minister of the Uniting Church in Australia, who does a bit of locum work and researches the history of nineteenth-century religious movements. But by night he is, in his unassuming way, a titan of the skies. He hunts supernovae.
A supernova occurs when a giant star, one much bigger than our own Sun, collapses and then spectacularly explodes, releasing in an instant the energy of a hundred billion suns, burning for a time more brightly than all the stars in its galaxy. ‘It’s like a trillion hydrogen bombs going off at once,’ says Evans. If a supernova explosion happened within five hundred light years of us, we would be goners, according to Evans – ‘it would wreck the show,’ as he cheerfully puts it. But the universe is vast and supernovae are normally much too far away to harm us. In fact, most are so unimaginably distant that their light reaches us as no more than the faintest twinkle. For the month or so that they are visible, all that distinguishes them from the other stars in the sky is that they occupy a point of space that wasn’t filled before. It is these anomalous, very occasional pricks in the crowded dome of the night sky that the Reverend Evans finds.
To understand what a fear this is, imagine a standard dining room table covered in a black tablecloth and throwing a handful of salt across it. The scattered grains can be thought of as a galaxy. Now imagine fifteen hundred more tables like the first one – enough to make a single line two miles long – each with a random array of salt across it. Now add one grain of salt to any table and let Bob Evans walk among them. At a glance he will spot it. That grain of salt is the supernova.
Evan’s is a talent so exceptional that Oliver Sacks, in An Anthropologist on Mars, devotes a passage to him in a chapter on autistic savants – quickly adding that ‘there is no suggestion that he is autistic.’ Evans, who has not met Sacks, laughs at the suggestion that he might be either autistic of a savant, but he is powerless to explain quite where his talent comes from.
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The term supernovae was coined in the 1930s by a memorably odd astrophysist named Fritz Zwicky. Born in Bulgaria and raised in Switzerland, Zwicky came to the California Institute of Technology in the 1920s and there at once distinguished himself by his abrasive personality and erratic talents. He didn’t seem to be outstandingly bright, and many of his colleagues considered him little more than ‘an irritating buffoon.’ A fitness fanatic, he would often drop to the floor of the Caltech dining hall or some other public area and do one-armed push-ups to demonstrate his virility to anyone who seemed inclined to doubt it. He was notoriously aggressive, his manner eventually becoming so intimidating that his closest collaborator, a gentle man named Walter Baade, refused to be left alone with him.
Looking into the past is, of course, the easy part. Glance at the night sky and what you see is history and lots of it – not the stars as they are now but as they were when their light left them. For all we know, the North Star, our faithful companion, might actually have burned out last January or in 1854 or at any time since the early fourteenth century and news of it just hasn’t reached us yet. The best we can say – can ever say – is that it was still burning on this date 680 years ago. Stars die all the time. What Bob Evans does better than anyone else who has ever tried is spot these moments of celestial farewell.
By day, Evans is a kindly and now semi-retired minister of the Uniting Church in Australia, who does a bit of locum work and researches the history of nineteenth-century religious movements. But by night he is, in his unassuming way, a titan of the skies. He hunts supernovae.
A supernova occurs when a giant star, one much bigger than our own Sun, collapses and then spectacularly explodes, releasing in an instant the energy of a hundred billion suns, burning for a time more brightly than all the stars in its galaxy. ‘It’s like a trillion hydrogen bombs going off at once,’ says Evans. If a supernova explosion happened within five hundred light years of us, we would be goners, according to Evans – ‘it would wreck the show,’ as he cheerfully puts it. But the universe is vast and supernovae are normally much too far away to harm us. In fact, most are so unimaginably distant that their light reaches us as no more than the faintest twinkle. For the month or so that they are visible, all that distinguishes them from the other stars in the sky is that they occupy a point of space that wasn’t filled before. It is these anomalous, very occasional pricks in the crowded dome of the night sky that the Reverend Evans finds.
To understand what a fear this is, imagine a standard dining room table covered in a black tablecloth and throwing a handful of salt across it. The scattered grains can be thought of as a galaxy. Now imagine fifteen hundred more tables like the first one – enough to make a single line two miles long – each with a random array of salt across it. Now add one grain of salt to any table and let Bob Evans walk among them. At a glance he will spot it. That grain of salt is the supernova.
Evan’s is a talent so exceptional that Oliver Sacks, in An Anthropologist on Mars, devotes a passage to him in a chapter on autistic savants – quickly adding that ‘there is no suggestion that he is autistic.’ Evans, who has not met Sacks, laughs at the suggestion that he might be either autistic of a savant, but he is powerless to explain quite where his talent comes from.
..
The term supernovae was coined in the 1930s by a memorably odd astrophysist named Fritz Zwicky. Born in Bulgaria and raised in Switzerland, Zwicky came to the California Institute of Technology in the 1920s and there at once distinguished himself by his abrasive personality and erratic talents. He didn’t seem to be outstandingly bright, and many of his colleagues considered him little more than ‘an irritating buffoon.’ A fitness fanatic, he would often drop to the floor of the Caltech dining hall or some other public area and do one-armed push-ups to demonstrate his virility to anyone who seemed inclined to doubt it. He was notoriously aggressive, his manner eventually becoming so intimidating that his closest collaborator, a gentle man named Walter Baade, refused to be left alone with him.
But Zwicky was also capable of insights of the most startling brilliance. In the early 1930s he turned his attention to a question that had long troubled astronomers: the appearance in the sky of occasional unexplained points of light, new stars. Improbably, he wondered if the neutron – the subatomic particle that had just been discovered in England by James Chadwick, and was thus both novel and rather fashionable – might be at the heart of things. It occurred to him that if a star collapsed to the sort of densities found in the core of atoms, the result would be an unimaginably compacted core. Atoms would literally be crushed together, their electrons forced into the nucleus, forming neutrons. You would have a neutron star. Imagine a million really weighty cannonballs squeezed down to the size of a marble and – well, you’re still not even close. The core of a neutron star is so dense that a single spoonful of matter from it would weigh 90 billion kilograms. A spoonful! But there was more. Zwicky realized that after the collapse of such a star there would be a huge amount of energy left over – enough to make the biggest bang in the universe. He called these resultant explosions supernovae. They would be – they are – the biggest event in creation.
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Zwicky was also the first to recognize that there wasn’t nearly enough visible mass in the universe to hold galaxies together, -- what we now call dark matter. One thing he failed to see was that if a neutron star shrank enough it would become so dense that even light couldn’t escape its immense gravitational pull. You would have a black hole.
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Supernova do much more than simply impart a sense of wonder. They come in several types, and any of these, one in particular, known as the IA supernova, is important to astronomy because these supernova always explode in the same way, with the same critical mass. For this reason they can be used as ‘standard candles’ – benchmarks by which to measure the brightness (and hence relative distance) of other stars, and thus to measure the expansion rate of the universe.
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The question that naturally occurs is: what would it be like if a star exploded nearby? Our nearest stellar neighbour, as we have seen, is Alpha Centaurs, 4.3 light years away. I had imagined that if there were an explosion there we would have 4.3 years to watch the light of this magnificent event spreading across the sky, as if tipped from a giant can. What would it be like if we had four years and four months to watch an inescapable doom advancing towards us, knowing that when it finally arrived it would blow the skin right off our bones? Would people still go to work? Would farmers plant crops? Would anyone deliver them to the shops?
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Weeks later, back in the town of New Hampshire where I then lived, I put these questions to John Thorstensen, an astronomer at Dartmouth College. ‘Oh no,’ he said, laughing. ‘The news of such an event travels out at the speed of light, but so does the destructiveness, so you’d learn about it and die from it in the same instant. But don’t worry, because it’s not going to happen.’
For the blast of a supernova explosion to kill you, he explained, you would have to be ‘ridiculously close’ – probably within ten light years or so. ‘The danger would be various types of radiation – cosmic rays and so on.’ These would produce fabulous auroras, shimmering curtains of spooky light that would fill the whole sky. This would not be a good thing. Anything potent enough to put on such a show could well blow away the magnetosphere, the magnetic zone high above the Earth that normally protects us from ultraviolet rays and other cosmic assaults. Without the magnetosphere anyone unfortunate enough to step into sunlight would pretty quickly take on the appearance of, let us say, overcooked pizza.
Weeks later, back in the town of New Hampshire where I then lived, I put these questions to John Thorstensen, an astronomer at Dartmouth College. ‘Oh no,’ he said, laughing. ‘The news of such an event travels out at the speed of light, but so does the destructiveness, so you’d learn about it and die from it in the same instant. But don’t worry, because it’s not going to happen.’
For the blast of a supernova explosion to kill you, he explained, you would have to be ‘ridiculously close’ – probably within ten light years or so. ‘The danger would be various types of radiation – cosmic rays and so on.’ These would produce fabulous auroras, shimmering curtains of spooky light that would fill the whole sky. This would not be a good thing. Anything potent enough to put on such a show could well blow away the magnetosphere, the magnetic zone high above the Earth that normally protects us from ultraviolet rays and other cosmic assaults. Without the magnetosphere anyone unfortunate enough to step into sunlight would pretty quickly take on the appearance of, let us say, overcooked pizza.
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The reason we can be reasonably confident that such an event won’t happen in our corner of the galaxy, Thorstensen said, is that it takes a particular kind of star to make a supernova in the first place. A candidate star must be ten to twenty times as massive as our own Sun, and ‘we don’t have anything of the requisite size that’s that close. The universe is a mercifully big place.’ The nearest likely candidate, he added, is Betelgeuse, whose various sputterings have for years suggested that something interestingly unstable is going on there. But Betelgeuse is fifty thousand light years away.
The reason we can be reasonably confident that such an event won’t happen in our corner of the galaxy, Thorstensen said, is that it takes a particular kind of star to make a supernova in the first place. A candidate star must be ten to twenty times as massive as our own Sun, and ‘we don’t have anything of the requisite size that’s that close. The universe is a mercifully big place.’ The nearest likely candidate, he added, is Betelgeuse, whose various sputterings have for years suggested that something interestingly unstable is going on there. But Betelgeuse is fifty thousand light years away.
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Only half a dozen times in recorded history have supernovae been close enough to be visible to the naked eye. One was a blast in 1054 that created the Crab Nebula. Another in 1604, made a star bright enough to be seen during the day for over three weeks. The most recent was in 1987, when a supernova flared in a zone of the cosmos known as the Large Magellanic Cloud, but that was only barely visible and only in the southern hemisphere – and it was a comfortably safe 169,000 light years away
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Only half a dozen times in recorded history have supernovae been close enough to be visible to the naked eye. One was a blast in 1054 that created the Crab Nebula. Another in 1604, made a star bright enough to be seen during the day for over three weeks. The most recent was in 1987, when a supernova flared in a zone of the cosmos known as the Large Magellanic Cloud, but that was only barely visible and only in the southern hemisphere – and it was a comfortably safe 169,000 light years away
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Hugo Chavez
Venezuela, FARC, IBAMA
{PapillonTiticacaCartagena-BryanCayennetown}
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John Ashcroft
Dept. of Justice, ZOMO (Polish Paramilitary Police)
{Vladimir Valentin Mikhailovich HartLabur}
A Short History of Nearly Everything
By Bill Bryson
John Ashcroft
Dept. of Justice, ZOMO (Polish Paramilitary Police)
{Vladimir Valentin Mikhailovich HartLabur}
A Short History of Nearly Everything
By Bill Bryson
Lonely Planet
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Apart from avoiding high-pressure environments altogether, only two strategies are reliably successful against the bends. The first is to suffer only a very short exposure to the changes in pressure. That is why the free divers can descend to depths of 150 metres without ill effect. They don’t stay down long enough for the nitrogen in their system to dissolve into their tissues. The other solution is to ascend by careful stages. This allows the little bubbles of nitrogen to dissipate harmlessly.
Apart from avoiding high-pressure environments altogether, only two strategies are reliably successful against the bends. The first is to suffer only a very short exposure to the changes in pressure. That is why the free divers can descend to depths of 150 metres without ill effect. They don’t stay down long enough for the nitrogen in their system to dissolve into their tissues. The other solution is to ascend by careful stages. This allows the little bubbles of nitrogen to dissipate harmlessly.
A great deal of what we know about surviving at extremes is owed to the extraordinary father and son team of John Scott and J.B.S. Haldane. Even the demanding standards of British intellectuals, the Haldanes were outstandingly eccentric. The senior Haldane was born in 1860 to an aristocratic Scottish family (his brother was Viscount Haldane), but spent most of his career in comparative modesty as a professor of physiology at Oxford. He was famously absent-minded. Once, after his wife had sent him upstairs to change for a dinner party, he failed to return and was discovered asleep in bed in his pyjamas. When roused, Haldane explained that he had found himself disrobing and assumed it was bedtime. His idea of a holiday was to travel to Cornwall to study hookworm in coal, gold and silver miners. Aldous Huxley, the novelist grandson of T.H. Huxley, who lived with the Haldanes for a time, parodied him, a touch mercilessly, as the scientist Edward Tantamount in the novel Point Counter Point.
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Haldane’s gift to diving was to work out the rest intervals necessary to manage an ascent from the depths without getting the bends, but his interests ranged across the whole of physiology, from studying altitude sickness in climbers to the problems of heatstroke in desert regions. He had a particular interest in the effects of toxic gases on the human body. To understand more exactly how carbon monoxide leaks killed miners, he methodically poisoned himself, carefully taking and measuring his own blood samples the while. He quit only when he was on the verge of losing all muscle control and his blood saturation level had reached 56 per cent – a level, as Trevor Norton notes in his entertaining history of diving, Stars Beneath the Sea, only fractionally removed from nearly certain lethality.
Haldane’s gift to diving was to work out the rest intervals necessary to manage an ascent from the depths without getting the bends, but his interests ranged across the whole of physiology, from studying altitude sickness in climbers to the problems of heatstroke in desert regions. He had a particular interest in the effects of toxic gases on the human body. To understand more exactly how carbon monoxide leaks killed miners, he methodically poisoned himself, carefully taking and measuring his own blood samples the while. He quit only when he was on the verge of losing all muscle control and his blood saturation level had reached 56 per cent – a level, as Trevor Norton notes in his entertaining history of diving, Stars Beneath the Sea, only fractionally removed from nearly certain lethality.
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Haldane’s son Jack, known to posterity as J.B.S. was a remarkable prodigy who took an interest in his fathers work almost from infancy. At the age of three he was overheard demanding peevishly of his father, ‘But is it oxyhaemoglobin or carboxyhaemoglobin?’ Throughout his youth, the young Haldane helped his father with experiments. By the time he was a teenager, the two often tested gases and gas masks together, taking it in turns to see how long it took them to pass out.
Haldane’s son Jack, known to posterity as J.B.S. was a remarkable prodigy who took an interest in his fathers work almost from infancy. At the age of three he was overheard demanding peevishly of his father, ‘But is it oxyhaemoglobin or carboxyhaemoglobin?’ Throughout his youth, the young Haldane helped his father with experiments. By the time he was a teenager, the two often tested gases and gas masks together, taking it in turns to see how long it took them to pass out.
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Though J.B.S. Haldane never took a degree in science (he studied classics at Oxford), he became a brilliant scientist in his own right, mostly working for the government at Cambridge. The biologist Peter Medawar, who spent his life around mental Olympians, called him ‘the cleverest man I ever knew.’ Huxley paroded the younger Haldane too, in his novel Antic Hay, but also used his ideas on genetic manipulation of humans as the basis for the plot of Brave New World. Among many other achievements, Haldane played a central role in marrying Darwinian principles of evolution to the genetic work of Gregor Mendel to produce what is known to geneticists as the Modern Synthesis.
Though J.B.S. Haldane never took a degree in science (he studied classics at Oxford), he became a brilliant scientist in his own right, mostly working for the government at Cambridge. The biologist Peter Medawar, who spent his life around mental Olympians, called him ‘the cleverest man I ever knew.’ Huxley paroded the younger Haldane too, in his novel Antic Hay, but also used his ideas on genetic manipulation of humans as the basis for the plot of Brave New World. Among many other achievements, Haldane played a central role in marrying Darwinian principles of evolution to the genetic work of Gregor Mendel to produce what is known to geneticists as the Modern Synthesis.
Perhaps uniquiely among human beings, the younger Haldane found the First World War ‘a very enjoyable experience’ and freely admitted that he ‘enjoyed the opportunity of killing people’. He was himself wounded twice.
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Among Haldane’s many specific preoccupations was nitrogen intoxication. For reasons that are still poorly understood, at depths beyond about 30 metres nitrogen becomes a powerful intoxicant. Under its influence divers had been known to offer their air hoses to passing fish or to decide to try to have a smoke break. It also produced wild mood swings. In one test, Haldane noted, the subject ‘alternated between depression and elation, at one moment begging to be decompressed because he felt ‘bloody awful’ and the next minute laughing and attempting to interfere with his colleague’s dexterity test.’
Among Haldane’s many specific preoccupations was nitrogen intoxication. For reasons that are still poorly understood, at depths beyond about 30 metres nitrogen becomes a powerful intoxicant. Under its influence divers had been known to offer their air hoses to passing fish or to decide to try to have a smoke break. It also produced wild mood swings. In one test, Haldane noted, the subject ‘alternated between depression and elation, at one moment begging to be decompressed because he felt ‘bloody awful’ and the next minute laughing and attempting to interfere with his colleague’s dexterity test.’
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In order to measure the rate of deterioration in the subject, a scientis had to go into the chamber with the volunteer to conduct simple mathematical tests. But after a few minutes, as Haldane later recalled, ‘the tester was usually as intoxicated as the testee, and often forgot to press the spindle of his stopwatch, or to take proper notes.” The cause of the inebriation is even now a mystery. It is thought that it maybe be the same thing that causes alcohol intoxication, but as no-one knows for certain what causes that, we are none the wiser. At all events, without the greatest car, it is easy to get in trouble once you leave the surface world.
In order to measure the rate of deterioration in the subject, a scientis had to go into the chamber with the volunteer to conduct simple mathematical tests. But after a few minutes, as Haldane later recalled, ‘the tester was usually as intoxicated as the testee, and often forgot to press the spindle of his stopwatch, or to take proper notes.” The cause of the inebriation is even now a mystery. It is thought that it maybe be the same thing that causes alcohol intoxication, but as no-one knows for certain what causes that, we are none the wiser. At all events, without the greatest car, it is easy to get in trouble once you leave the surface world.
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John Stockwell
CIA, SIM (Spanish Republican Security Service)
{Vladimir Mikhail Alekstantinovich Smirnov O'Reilly}
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Leonard Peltier
NAIM (Native American Indian Movement), Jericho Political Prisoners
{Wounded-ShinboneGeronimoStar-Knee}
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Excuse Me, Mr. President
By Rick Paul Springer
Grandfather,
Look at our brokenness
We know that in all creation
Only the human family
Has strayed from the Sacred Way
We know that we are the ones
Who are divided
And we are the ones
Who must come back together
To walk in the Sacred Way
Grandfather,
Sacred One,
Teach us love, compassion, and honor
That we may heal the earth
And heal each other
~ Ojibway Prayer ~
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..
IRAQ:
Excuse Me, Mr. President
By Rick Paul Springer
Grandfather,
Look at our brokenness
We know that in all creation
Only the human family
Has strayed from the Sacred Way
We know that we are the ones
Who are divided
And we are the ones
Who must come back together
To walk in the Sacred Way
Grandfather,
Sacred One,
Teach us love, compassion, and honor
That we may heal the earth
And heal each other
~ Ojibway Prayer ~
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IRAQ:
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Saddam Hussein believes he is the son of Nebuchadnezzar; and the Prophet Mohammed. Iraq bought a small French nuclear reactor called Osiris (the Egyptian version of Pluto, the Greek God of the underworld), capable of quickly generating enough bomb-grade material for three Hiroshima size bombs. On Sunday June 7, 1981, the Israeli Air Force blew it to smithereens. “Peace-loving nations,” said Hussein afterwards, “should now help the Arabs to acquire atomic bombs as a counter balance to those already possessed by Israel.”
Marc Ian Barasch, The Little Black Book of Atomic War, 1983
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With all the emphasis on the fault of governments, the corporations, scientists or the media, it is critical that we recognize that the greatest obstacle to world peace is the ‘Peace Movement’ itself. The message of the broken eagle is that we are a broken people throughout. While our movement is already fully empowered to succeed, it is our human immaturity that keeps us divided. We berate the US government for violating treaty after treaty, yet peace and environmental organisations violate their own agreements and charters just as often. While corporations fight to gain control of the largest military contracts, the fiefdoms of our movement keep us separated and dispirited, not on purpose but in ignorance. While dictators are installed and assiassinated by the CIA, FBI, or DEA, we, in the movement, nurse lifelong grudges against other activists and assassinate their character and projects more effectively than Time or Newsweek ever could.
..
Whether you work in congress or Earth First, on the board of General Electric or the International Physicians for the Prevention of Nuclear War, you are a human being in the 20th century. Betrayal, sex scandals, mud flinging, jealousy, sexism, racism, embezzlement, violence and power struggles are a part and parcel of congress and the so-called ‘peace movement’. Because we have chosen a particular path is no indication of our departure, location or arrival. Most of us are still just perusing the spiritual travel literature. Because one can articulate the moral high ground is no indication of ones ability to occupy it. Presidents and activists alike, can espouse the rhetoric of our shared human ideals… and then we go to war, physically verbally, or emotionally. Racism is not under the proprietorship of a race nor sexism a sex. We are all human beings with our own styles and degrees of dysfunction.
..
As social change organisations, the peace, environmental and social justice movement rely heavily on volunteers. Money is not supposed to be the motivation of volunteers or even those employed for social change, be it forest, animal, human or antinuclear activism. What has stemmed from the focus on sacrifice rather than money is an intense yet unspoken emphasis on power, status and recognition. But we can’t deal with it because it’s not supposed to be there. How can you criticize someone who has done so much work for nothing?
..
Combine this with a new decision making process, consensus, which many social justice organisations attempt to embrace, and what results in struggle and dishonesty in ways that are very difficult to pinpoint and over come. Consensus, in a nutshell is a group decision-making process which attempts to achieve full agreement on issues and decisions by allowing everyone participating to have a voice and a vote. No decisions are reached until all agree. What this often accomplishes is weak and ineffectual actions because some people are not ready for bold and aggressive action.
Marc Ian Barasch, The Little Black Book of Atomic War, 1983
..
..
With all the emphasis on the fault of governments, the corporations, scientists or the media, it is critical that we recognize that the greatest obstacle to world peace is the ‘Peace Movement’ itself. The message of the broken eagle is that we are a broken people throughout. While our movement is already fully empowered to succeed, it is our human immaturity that keeps us divided. We berate the US government for violating treaty after treaty, yet peace and environmental organisations violate their own agreements and charters just as often. While corporations fight to gain control of the largest military contracts, the fiefdoms of our movement keep us separated and dispirited, not on purpose but in ignorance. While dictators are installed and assiassinated by the CIA, FBI, or DEA, we, in the movement, nurse lifelong grudges against other activists and assassinate their character and projects more effectively than Time or Newsweek ever could.
..
Whether you work in congress or Earth First, on the board of General Electric or the International Physicians for the Prevention of Nuclear War, you are a human being in the 20th century. Betrayal, sex scandals, mud flinging, jealousy, sexism, racism, embezzlement, violence and power struggles are a part and parcel of congress and the so-called ‘peace movement’. Because we have chosen a particular path is no indication of our departure, location or arrival. Most of us are still just perusing the spiritual travel literature. Because one can articulate the moral high ground is no indication of ones ability to occupy it. Presidents and activists alike, can espouse the rhetoric of our shared human ideals… and then we go to war, physically verbally, or emotionally. Racism is not under the proprietorship of a race nor sexism a sex. We are all human beings with our own styles and degrees of dysfunction.
..
As social change organisations, the peace, environmental and social justice movement rely heavily on volunteers. Money is not supposed to be the motivation of volunteers or even those employed for social change, be it forest, animal, human or antinuclear activism. What has stemmed from the focus on sacrifice rather than money is an intense yet unspoken emphasis on power, status and recognition. But we can’t deal with it because it’s not supposed to be there. How can you criticize someone who has done so much work for nothing?
..
Combine this with a new decision making process, consensus, which many social justice organisations attempt to embrace, and what results in struggle and dishonesty in ways that are very difficult to pinpoint and over come. Consensus, in a nutshell is a group decision-making process which attempts to achieve full agreement on issues and decisions by allowing everyone participating to have a voice and a vote. No decisions are reached until all agree. What this often accomplishes is weak and ineffectual actions because some people are not ready for bold and aggressive action.
..
My personal experience is that consensus is a noble process that is less functional with immature participants than is majority rules. I prefer honest hierarchy to dishonest consensus any day. Consensus does not override outgoing and aggressive human personalities. Consensus is as open to manipulation as is democracy. My experience is that individuals involved in consensus are usually poorly educated in its use. It requires study and practice, which are almost always taken for granted as new organisations assume consensus is a better model. It is better when practiced by people who have invested the time to learn it. When practiced by groups that don’t grasp the inherent responsibility, it is less functional, highly time consumptive and less honest. Those that scream the most loudly about process are often the first to violate it. As individuals, raised in American society, we have absolutely no experience in group decision-making.
..
This is the message of the Broken Eagle:
My personal experience is that consensus is a noble process that is less functional with immature participants than is majority rules. I prefer honest hierarchy to dishonest consensus any day. Consensus does not override outgoing and aggressive human personalities. Consensus is as open to manipulation as is democracy. My experience is that individuals involved in consensus are usually poorly educated in its use. It requires study and practice, which are almost always taken for granted as new organisations assume consensus is a better model. It is better when practiced by people who have invested the time to learn it. When practiced by groups that don’t grasp the inherent responsibility, it is less functional, highly time consumptive and less honest. Those that scream the most loudly about process are often the first to violate it. As individuals, raised in American society, we have absolutely no experience in group decision-making.
..
This is the message of the Broken Eagle:
Humanity is broken on all fronts, as children, in intimate relationships, in families, in ommunities, organisations, corporations and governments. We will not heal until we see this reality. Recognition of our brokenness empowers us to focus on the healing. Like an alcoholic, the first step is to admit we have a problem.
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Family counsellor and author John Bradshaw estimates that 94% of Americans are dysfunctional to some degree. This is a conservative estimate. We grew up in one of the most brain-washed, manipulated society on Earth. Immersed in hierarchy, patriarchy and capitalism, we are at home in the land of rugged individualism.. ME-ism. That is why it is so difficult to organize in such a wealthy country. You do not remove this type of brainwashing as if it were an old t-shirt. It takes discipline. It is a journey – one worth undertaking.
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It is still a beautiful world, but many have no chance to see that beauty and that beauty is being degraded daily. It is no longer a matter of just a positive attitude. It is a matter of positive action. In order to act we must fully grasp the present human psyche. John Trudell, one of the leading spiritual philosophers of our day, suggests that we have become a virus on Earth, immersed in a predator mindset. But we can choose to be part of the infection or antibodies for the cure.
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‘No U.S. nuclear tests ever, Clinton pledges’
Denver Post
January 31, 1995
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More than 60 retired US admirals and generals issued a statement claiming that our long term policy “must be based on the declared principle of continuous, complete and irrevocable elimination of nuclear weapons.” Retired US Air Force General Lee Butler argued that international security would best be served by total nuclear disarmament.
~ December 2, 1996 ~
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Family counsellor and author John Bradshaw estimates that 94% of Americans are dysfunctional to some degree. This is a conservative estimate. We grew up in one of the most brain-washed, manipulated society on Earth. Immersed in hierarchy, patriarchy and capitalism, we are at home in the land of rugged individualism.. ME-ism. That is why it is so difficult to organize in such a wealthy country. You do not remove this type of brainwashing as if it were an old t-shirt. It takes discipline. It is a journey – one worth undertaking.
..
It is still a beautiful world, but many have no chance to see that beauty and that beauty is being degraded daily. It is no longer a matter of just a positive attitude. It is a matter of positive action. In order to act we must fully grasp the present human psyche. John Trudell, one of the leading spiritual philosophers of our day, suggests that we have become a virus on Earth, immersed in a predator mindset. But we can choose to be part of the infection or antibodies for the cure.
..
‘No U.S. nuclear tests ever, Clinton pledges’
Denver Post
January 31, 1995
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More than 60 retired US admirals and generals issued a statement claiming that our long term policy “must be based on the declared principle of continuous, complete and irrevocable elimination of nuclear weapons.” Retired US Air Force General Lee Butler argued that international security would best be served by total nuclear disarmament.
~ December 2, 1996 ~
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Vladimir Putin
Kremlin, KGB, AVO-AVH (Hungarian Security Service)
{St Feliks Andreyevich YuriyatinGoldHeart tSarsen}
/
Lt. Col. David Grossman
USMC West Pt., DIE (Romanian Foreign Intel Agency)
{Tiger Lily's Against-The-Grain Serge}
New Money for Healthy Communities
By Thomas H. Greko
Chapter 1: Toward a New World Order
“Money will decide the fate of mankind”
Jacques Rueff
Gaia Consciousness and Human Unity
The past 25 years or so seem to have brought a new period of enlightenment in which humans in increasing numbers have become aware of their oneness as a species, and their place, not as dominator or controller of nature, but as an integral part of the whole web of life. Many cultures have held the view that Earth is a living being in which each living species plays a vital role. It is a view which is now becoming current in our own culture and which sees humans as the “global brain,” the Earth’s centre of self-awareness. This changing identity is beginning to have profound effects upon the way we live our lives and, if we allow it, can change the whole course of history.
Our actions emerge out of our visions and ideals. We humans, in our role as co-creators with the “Higher Power”, have plenty of work to do. There is work to be done at the persona level, confronting our own fears and doubts and taking responsibility for resolving our dilemmas; at the community level, using inevitable conflicts as opportunities to transcend our petty selves and limited perceptions; and at the societal level, building new structures which support and nurture rather than coerce and brutalize.
Economics drives politics, and money is the central mechanism through which economic power is exerted in the modern world.
The foundation of state power and centralized control in today’s world is the power to create and manipulate the medium of exchange. Because money has the power to command resources, and because most of us take it for granted, those few who control the creation of money are able to appropriate for their own purposes vast amounts of resources without being seen. The entire machinery of money and finance has now been appropriated to serve the interests of centralized power.
The key element in any strategy to transform society must therefore be the liberation of money and the exchange process. If money (and hearts) are liberated, commerce will be liberated; if commerce is liberated, the people will be empowered to the full extent of their abilities to serve one another; the liberation of capital, education and land and the responsible popular control of politics will follow as a matter of course (we hope).
Chapter 2: What is Money?
“Money is an information system we use to deploy human effort.”
Michael Linton
The Essential Nature of Money
The question, “What is money?” may seem trivial to us, who in this modern day make constant use of it, but it is confusion about the essence of money which has allowed it to be abused and misallocated. Money in classical economics is defined as (1) a medium of exchange, (2) a standard of value, (3) a unit of account, (4) a store of value, and (5) a standard of deferred payment. There are many problems with these definitions, but their primary inadequacy is that they are functional definitions; they tell what money does, not what it is. We need to understand the basic essence of money. Once we have grasped its essence we can begin to design exchange systems which will equitably serve the needs of people and the Earth.
The process of economic exchange always involves at least two parties. The fundamental exchange process is the barter exchange. The fundamental purpose of money is to transcend the limitations of barter. Bilgram and Levy assert that:
“We should… define money as any medium of exchange adapted or designed to meet the inadequacy of the method of exchanging things by simple barter. Anything that accomplishes this object is ‘Money.
The one quality which is peculiar to money alone is its general acceptability in the market and in the discharge of debts. How does money acquire this specific quality? It is manifestly due solely to a consensus of the members of the community to accept certain valuable things, such as coin and certain forms of credit, as mediums of exchange.”
We can see then that the essence of money is an agreement (consensus) to accept something which in itself may have no fundamental utility to us, but which we are assured can be exchanged in the market for something that does.
Whatever we use as money, then, carries information. The possession of money, in whatever form, gives the holder a claim against the community of traders. The legitimacy of that claim needs to be assured in some way. The possession of money should be evidence that the holder has delivered value to someone in the community, and therefore has a right to receive like value in return, or that the holder has received it, by gift or other transfer, from someone else who has delivered value.
Chapter 6: Money and the Constitution
“No State shall… make any thing but gold and silver coin a tender in payment of debts;…”
Article I, Section 10, U.S. Constitution
How Money is Misallocated
Money, as it emerges from the banks which create it, is not distributed fairly because the allocation decisions are not made democratically but rather by elite groups of bankers who are not held properly accountable. They act in their own interests pursuing goals which are typical of any corporate business – profit and growth.
The greatest abuses, however, derive from the politicisation of money, banking and finance. Banking and government have become intertwined and mutually dependent. In return for its privileged position, the banking cartel must assure the central government is able to borrow and spend virtually any amount it wishes. Despite their public protestations, the banking system will always “float” the necessary budget deficits of the central government, by “monetizing” the debt. What this means is that the banking system will create enough new money to allow the market to absorb the new government bonds which must be issued to finance the deficit. Thus, it allows the government to spend as much as it wishes without raising taxes directly. The result is inflation, which has been called a “hidden tax.”
Economists often argue that inflation is caused by too much money in circulation. This would seem to refute the contention that money is chronically in short supply. The answer to this is that inflation is not caused by the amount of money per se, but by the fact that some of the money in circulation is improperly issued and misallocated. Such is the case when the banking system “monetizes” the government debt, as described above.
The people have been cut out of the most important decision process, that of determining how the aggregate wealth of the nation, the fruits of everyone’s labour, will be spent. Massive expenditures for weapons, military interventions, and legalized “bribes” to client governments, along with S&L and corporate bailouts which benefit the wealthy, well-connected few and increase the gap between the rich and poor, are but a few of the abuses.
How Money Pumps Wealth From the Poor to the Rich
In this regard, I speak not of the very poor, who have little or no wealth producing capacity, but of the vast majority of people who work for a living but have little or no financial net worth. The “debt trap” is the bane of that class of people. Debt within the current system is destructive in two ways, first because of the interest (usury) that must be paid for the use of money (bank credit), and secondly, because of the collateral which must be forfeited when the debtor is unable to make repayment. The chronic insufficiency of money assures that there will inevitably be some forfeitures. It is interesting to note that the word “mortgage” derives from roots which mean “death gamble.”
Everybody pays the cost of interest, even those who do not borrow directly. Interest costs are included in the price of everything we buy, whether it is provided by the business sector or the government. The production of whatever we buy must be financed in some way, and interest is the cost of using financial capital. Margrit Kennedy gives some examples which show the percentage of the cost which goes to pay interest on capital. Though her examples are drawn from her native Germany, it is clear that the pattern would be similar for all industrial nations, since their monetary and financial structures are all basically the same.
Lending money at interest, either directly or through financial intermediaries is one of the primary mechanisms by which the rich get richer and the poor get poorer.
Money carries information, but the present monetary system is dysfunctional because it carries flawed information. If information is the essential quality of money, then the next logical question is, what kind of information does it, and should it carry? The answer immediately presents itself is that money should carry information about “merit”. If money allows its possessor to claim wealth from the community, what is the basis for that claim? The possession of money should be evidence that the possessor has delivered value to the community, and is therefore entitled to receive back a like amount.
If money is improperly issued though, the information which it carries is polluted at the very source. By issuing money to unproductive or privileged clients of the money monopoly, and by demanding interest (usury), the banking system redistributes wealth from producers to privileged non-producers. The consistent pattern of official action over the past several decades has been to concentrate economic power by centralizing control over the medium of exchange, limiting access to it, and charging exorbitant prices for its use (in the form of interest/usury).
“Our objective should be to create exchange media issued on the basis of human service and Earth service rather than acquisitiveness and domination”
Chapter 15: Good Money for Good Work
In addressing the mega-crisis which confronts the world today, it should be clear that decisive changes will need to be made in the methods we humans use to distribute power and allocate material resources. The present dominant structures of money and finance, by their very nature, promote the concentration of power into fewer and fewer hands, increase the disparity in the distribution of wealth, channel the vast majority of the earth’s resources into wasteful production, and force both social and ecological degradation. The pinnacle of power today is the power to issue money. If that power can be democratized and focused in a direction which gives social and ecological concerns top priority, then there may et be hope for saving the world.
This chapter describes three proposals for achieving that. These proposals have two primary features: (1) the use of local currencies to facilitate trade and (2) the empowerment of groups which are working to serve the common good. Although they are described in terms of circulating certificates or notes, these exchange media could also take the form of credits in a mutual credit system or some combination of account credits and circulating notes.
Earth Rescue Receipts (ERR’s)
Earth Rescue Receipts (ERR’s) are paper receipts for contributions made to what we will call “good work” organisations or individuals. ERR’s would be issued by any organisation which is a member of a consortium of mutual aid, social action, community improvement, environmental and other such organisations. These receipts, issued in small denominations, would simply acknowledge the donation of money, materials, equipment or services to a member organisation. They would provide evidence that the donor has done “good work” and would bear the name and seal of the consortium or as relevant.
So what are the key features of the ERR proposal which make it empowering? Well, what if the donor, who now holds the ERR, were able to get something of value for it? Suppose some local business or individual were to agree to accept ERR’s in trade? In that case, ERR’s could become circulating currency. The original donor would not be any poorer for having made the donation, but would simply have “gotten the ball rolling.” An ERR would be considered to be a “temporary receipt” (TR) which could be spent, with the issuer, or depending upon the original intention of its issuance, as appropriate.
As the positive effects of this process become more evident, more and more people will want to share the burden of community improvement, either by making additional donations to any particular member organisation, or by accepting ERR’s in trade and in the payment of debts. Growing acceptance of this exchange medium, and the increasing local prosperity which it brings, will encourage greater and greater amounts of heart-sharing to be contributed to the “good work” organisations and encourage work which is in the public, nature, and humanity’s future interest.
Besides providing a local medium of exchange, it would provide a more participatory process for local community finance, eliminating the need for many government expenditures and transfer payments.
Funded Temporary Receipts (FTR’s)
While a local currency system such as the Earth Rescue Receipts described above might approach more closely the ideals for monetary transformation set forth previously, a funded local currency might be initially more acceptable and less vulnerable to official interference.
It would probably provide better tax advantages to donors under current IRS regulations. It would be similar in many ways to the Earth Rescue Receipts and could work as follows:
ONE
A consortium of individuals and/or community improvement groups could begin a program under which a trustee would accept, on behalf of particular individuals, or as appropriate, deposits of official money from any benefactor.
TWO
These deposits would constitute an endowment fund which would be invested in ways which would provide income in official currency to help the organisation meets their cash or other needs. These funds could be invested in for example the Federal Farm Credit Bank, or similar; which might use them in more socially responsible ways.
THREE
These deposits would be non-refundable, and spendable with any individual willing to accept them. FTR’s would thus circulate as currency.
Ledger Accounts or Paper Notes?
Conceptually, it doesn’t matter whether the Riegels take the form of paper notes, tokens, or ledger balances (bookkeeping entries). These are all symbolic representations of the same thing – the values being exchanged, and each is “backed” by the same commitment of the issuers to redeem them – so checks and notes and electronic transfers can all be used interchangeably, as they are in the official monetary system.
Convertibility of Local Currency to Official Currency
The basic idea of a local currency is to empower people by allowing them to issue currency on the basis of the goods and services they have to offer, i.e. to monetize their labour. It is hoped and expected that as the merits of local currencies and exchange become more apparent, they will, to a large extent, supplant the official currency. As this happens, one needs to consider the possible need to covert dollars to Riegels or Riegels to dollars.
It is unlikely that there will be much demand for conversion of official dollars to Riegels so long as dollars are accepted as par along with Riegels as payment for purchases within the system. The situation is similar to current foreign exchange transactions.
People prefer to hold dollars rather than pesos because the dollar has been debased less rapidly, i.e. the inflation rate ins pesos has typically been much greater than the inflation rate in dollars. In other words, although the Federal Reserve has been irresponsible in its issuance of U.S. currency, the Mexican central bank has been even more irresponsible, making the holding of dollars a better inflation hedge than the holding of pesos.
The local currency needs to be insulated, as much as possible, from the adverse effects arising from manipulation of the official currency.
TWO Meanings of “DOLLAR”
It is extremely important to distinguish between the use of the word “dollar,” on the one hand to describe a unit of measure of value and, on the other, its use to describe the money issued by the Federal Reserve (the FED), either in the form of bank credit or as Federal Reserve Notes. Local exchange systems, while freeing people from using dollars, i.e. Federal Reserve money, typically use the dollar unit to measure the value of things traded. This makes sense because the dollar unit of measure is the unit which everyone is accustomed to using: it has meaning to people. The only problem with doing this is the fact that the dollar unit of measure is no longer defined in concrete terms. It used to be officially defined as so much fine gold, but that was abandoned long ago. The dollar is now a “rubber measuring stick” defined only by what it will buy in the market, and what it will buy in the market has been continually diminishing because of irresponsible issuance of money by the FED. That is the essence of general price inflation.
Using the dollar unit of measure, then, as a basis for valuing things creates a problem of comparability over time. A “dollar” today is not what it was yesterday, and a “dollar” tomorrow will most assuredly not be what it is today. But so long as the local currency is used only as a medium of exchange and not as a store of value, this lack of comparability over time is not much of a problem. Ideally, all currencies and exchange media should be defined in terms of some concrete standard which would establish their value along with the value of everything else being traded. The existence of such a standard would make abuse and mismanagement of currencies readily apparent and allow fair exchange rates to be easily determined. It can be hoped that in the not too distant future, some organisation or group will take the initiative in defining a standard of this type. Until such time, there is little choice but to use available measures. It is possible, however, to define local standards based upon some commodity (or group of commodities) important in local commerce, such as a bushel of wheat, a kilo of rice, or a pound of copper, and there is considerable historical precedent for doing so.
Another option would be to use some other concept for valuing the things traded. Ithaca’s use of the “Hour” unit is a good example. While an “Hour” is not precisely defined, people tend to think of it as having a value more or less equal to the local average hourly wage. This is what the Ithaca founders encourage, and this is what seems to be happening in practice. Ithaca Hours currently exchange among traders for value equivalent to about 10 dollars.
Using the hour concept instead of the dollar concept for valuing exchanges, would probably be effective in de-coupling the value of the local currency from that of the official currency. As the dollar continues to be debased, hourly wages should rise, and, one might expect, the value of the Hour currency, in terms of dollars, to rise also.
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Erik Prince
Blackwater, US Navy, SSD (GDR Security Service 'Stasi')
{MiracleCopperBuddy-LtColHenrysForkHuntley-FlamingRockLakePaw-1961}
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Erik Prince
Blackwater, US Navy, SSD (GDR Security Service 'Stasi')
{MiracleCopperBuddy-LtColHenrysForkHuntley-FlamingRockLakePaw-1961}
..
Cryptonomicon
By Neal Stephenson
By Neal Stephenson
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MEAT
(149)
MEAT
(149)
..
Okay, so Private First Class Gerald Hott, late of Chicago, Illinois, did not exactly shoot through the ranks during his fifteen-year tenure in the United States Army. He did, however, carve a bitchin’ loin roast. He was as deft with a boning knife as Bobby Shaftoe is with a bayonet. And who is to say that a military butcher, by conserving the limited resources of a steer’s carcass and by scrupulously observing the mandated sanitary practices, might not save as many lives as a steely-eyed warrior? The military is not just about killing Nips, Krauts, and Dagoes. It is also about killing livestock – and eating them.
..
Gerald Hott was a front-line warrior who kept his freezer locker as clean as an operating room and so it is only fitting that he has ended up there.
..
Bobby Shaftoe makes this little elegy up in his head as he is shivering in the sub-Arctic chill of a formerly French, and now U.S. Army, meat locker the size and temperature of Greenland and Iceland combined, surrounded by the earthly remains of several herds of cattle and one butcher. He has attended more than a few military funerals during his brief time in the service, and has always been bowled over by the skill of the chaplains in coming up with moving elegies for the departed. He has heard rumours that when the military inducts 4-Fs who are discovered to have brains, it teaches them to type and assigns them to sit at desks and type these things out, day after day. Nice duty if you can get it.
Bobby Shaftoe makes this little elegy up in his head as he is shivering in the sub-Arctic chill of a formerly French, and now U.S. Army, meat locker the size and temperature of Greenland and Iceland combined, surrounded by the earthly remains of several herds of cattle and one butcher. He has attended more than a few military funerals during his brief time in the service, and has always been bowled over by the skill of the chaplains in coming up with moving elegies for the departed. He has heard rumours that when the military inducts 4-Fs who are discovered to have brains, it teaches them to type and assigns them to sit at desks and type these things out, day after day. Nice duty if you can get it.
..
The frozen carcasses dangle from meathooks in long rows. Bobby Shaftoe gets tenser and tenser as he works his way up and down the aisles, steeling himself for the bad thing he is about to see. It is almost preferable when your buddy’s head suddenly explodes just as he is puffing his cigarette into life – buildup like this can drive you nuts.
The frozen carcasses dangle from meathooks in long rows. Bobby Shaftoe gets tenser and tenser as he works his way up and down the aisles, steeling himself for the bad thing he is about to see. It is almost preferable when your buddy’s head suddenly explodes just as he is puffing his cigarette into life – buildup like this can drive you nuts.
..
Finally he rounds the end of a row and discovers a man slumbering on the floor, locked in embrace with a pork carcass, which he was apparently about to butcher at the time of his death. He has been there for about twelve hours now and his body temp is hovering around minus ten degrees Fahrenheit.
Finally he rounds the end of a row and discovers a man slumbering on the floor, locked in embrace with a pork carcass, which he was apparently about to butcher at the time of his death. He has been there for about twelve hours now and his body temp is hovering around minus ten degrees Fahrenheit.
..
Bobby Shaftoe squares himself to face the body and draws a deep breath of frosty, meat-scented air. He clasps his cyanotic hands in front of his chest in a manner that is both prayerful and good for warming them up. “Dear Lord,” he says out loud. His voice does not echo; the carcasses soak it up. “Forgive this marine for these, his duties, which he is about to perform, and while you are at it, by all means forgive this marine’s superiors whom You in Your infinite wisdom have seen fit to bless him with, and forgive their superiors for getting the whole deal together.”
Bobby Shaftoe squares himself to face the body and draws a deep breath of frosty, meat-scented air. He clasps his cyanotic hands in front of his chest in a manner that is both prayerful and good for warming them up. “Dear Lord,” he says out loud. His voice does not echo; the carcasses soak it up. “Forgive this marine for these, his duties, which he is about to perform, and while you are at it, by all means forgive this marine’s superiors whom You in Your infinite wisdom have seen fit to bless him with, and forgive their superiors for getting the whole deal together.”
..
He considers going on at some length but finally decides that this is no worse than bayoneting Nips and so lets get on with it. He goes to the locked bodies of PFC Gerald Holt and Frosty the Pig and tries to separate them without success. He squats by them and gives the former a good look.
..
Shaftoe turns around and looks again at the meat locker, which is dangerously exposed to enemy air attack here, but no one gives a fuck because who cares if the Krauts blow up a bunch of meat?
Leuitenant Ethridge, almost as desperately sunburned as Bobby Shaftoe, squints. These Marines are all lethal combat veterans or else they never would have gotten into a mess this bad – trapped on a gratuitously dangerous continent (Africa) surrounded by the enemy (United States Army troops). Still when they get into that locker and take their first gander at PFC Hott, a hush comes over them.
..
Shaftoe turns around and looks again at the meat locker, which is dangerously exposed to enemy air attack here, but no one gives a fuck because who cares if the Krauts blow up a bunch of meat?
Leuitenant Ethridge, almost as desperately sunburned as Bobby Shaftoe, squints. These Marines are all lethal combat veterans or else they never would have gotten into a mess this bad – trapped on a gratuitously dangerous continent (Africa) surrounded by the enemy (United States Army troops). Still when they get into that locker and take their first gander at PFC Hott, a hush comes over them.
..
Private Branph clasps his hands, rubbing them together surreptitiously, “Dear Lord—“
“Shut up, Private!” Shaftoe says, “I already did that.”
“Okay Sarge.”
“Go find a meat saw!” Shaftoe says to Private Nathan.
The privates all gasp.
“For the fucking pig!” Shaftoe clarifies. Then he turns to Private Daniels, who is carrying a featureless bundle, and says, “Open it up!”
They are all working away silently when a new voice interrupts. “Dear Lord,” the voice begins, as they all look up to see a man standing nearby, hands clasped prayerfully. His words, sacramentally condensed into an outwards and visible cloud of steam, veil his face. His uniform and rank are obscured by an Army blanket thrown over his shoulders. He’d look like a camel-riding Holy Land prophet if he were not clean-shaven and wearing Rape Prevention Glasses.
“Goddamn it!” Shaftoe says. “I already said a fucking prayer.”
“But are we praying for Private Hott, or for ourselves?” the man says.
Private Branph clasps his hands, rubbing them together surreptitiously, “Dear Lord—“
“Shut up, Private!” Shaftoe says, “I already did that.”
“Okay Sarge.”
“Go find a meat saw!” Shaftoe says to Private Nathan.
The privates all gasp.
“For the fucking pig!” Shaftoe clarifies. Then he turns to Private Daniels, who is carrying a featureless bundle, and says, “Open it up!”
They are all working away silently when a new voice interrupts. “Dear Lord,” the voice begins, as they all look up to see a man standing nearby, hands clasped prayerfully. His words, sacramentally condensed into an outwards and visible cloud of steam, veil his face. His uniform and rank are obscured by an Army blanket thrown over his shoulders. He’d look like a camel-riding Holy Land prophet if he were not clean-shaven and wearing Rape Prevention Glasses.
“Goddamn it!” Shaftoe says. “I already said a fucking prayer.”
“But are we praying for Private Hott, or for ourselves?” the man says.
This is a poser.
Everything becomes quiet as the meat saw stops moving. Shaftoe drops the wetsuit and stands up. Blanket Man’s got very short grizzly hair, or maybe that’s frost coalescing on his scalp. His ice coloured eyes meet Shaftoe’s through the mile-thick lenses of his RPG’s, as if he’s really expecting an answer. Shaftoe takes a step closer and realizes the man is wearing a clerical collar.
“You tell me, Rev,” Shaftoe says.
Then he recognizes Blanket Man. He’s about to let fly with a lusty What in the fuck are you doing here, but something makes him hold back. The chaplains eyes make a sideways dart so small and so fast that only Shaftoe, who’s practically rubbing noses with him, could possibly see it. The message being: Shut up, Bobby, we’ll talk later.
“Private Hott is with God now – or wherever people go after they die,” says Enoch “You can call me Brother” Root.
“What kind of an attitude is that? Course he’s with God. Jesus Christ! ‘Wherever they go when they die.’ What kind of Chaplain are you?”
“I guess I’m a Detachment 2702 kind of chaplain,” the chaplain says. Lieutenant Enoch Root finally breaks eye contact with Shaftoe and turns his gaze to where the action is. “As you were, fellows,” he says. “Looks like bacon tonight, huh?”
The men chuckle nervously and resume sawing.
..
Shaftoe knows he ought to wait, but he just can’t stand it, “What are you doing here?” he finally says.
“The detachment is relocating,” the Rev says. “Closer to the front.”
“We just got off the fucking boat,” Shaftoe says. “Of course we’re going closer to the goddamn front – we can’t go any farther unless we swim.”
“As long as were pulling up stakes,” Root says coolly, “I’ll be coming along for the ride.”
“I don’t mean that,” Bobby Shaftoe says. “I mean, why should the detachment have a chaplain?”
“You know the military,” Root says. “Every unit has to have one.”
“It’s bad luck.”
“It’s bad luck to have a chaplain? Why”
“It means the waffle-butts are expecting a lot of funerals, is why.”
“So you are taking the position that the only thing a cleric can do is preside over funerals? Interesting.”
“And weddings and baptisms,” Shaftoe says. All of the other Marines chortle.
“Could it be you’re feeling a little anxious about the unusual nature of Detachment 2702’s first mission?” Root inquires, casting a significant glance at the late Hott, then staring directly into Shaftoe’s eyes.
“Anxious? Listen Rev, I done some things on Guadalcanal that make this look like Emily Fucking Post.”
All of the other Marines think this is a great line, but Root is undeterred.
“Did you know why you were doing those things on Gaudalcanal?”
“Sure! To stay alive.”
“Do you know why you’re doing this?”
“Fuck no.”
“Doesn’t that irritate you a little bit? Or are you too much of a stupid jarhead to care?”
“Well, you kind of backed me into a corner there, Rev,” Shaftoe says. After a pause he goes on, “I’ll admit to being a little curious.”
“If there was someone in Detachment 2702 who could help answer your questions about why, would that be useful?”
“I guess so,” Shaftoe grumbles. “It just seems weird to have a chaplain.”
“Why does it seem weird?”
“Because of the kind of unit this is.”
..
So with a dearth of complications that can only strike combat veteran Bobby Shaftoe as eerie, the truck leaves the Societe Algerienne d’Eclaraige et de Force behind and heads back up those damn ramps into Algiers. The climb’s steep – a first gear project all the way. Vendors and pushcarts loaded with boiling oil are not only keeping up with them but cooking fritters along the way. Three-legged dogs run and fight underneath the actual drive train of the truck. Detachment 2702 is also dogged by coffee-can-wearing natives threatening to play guitars made of jerry cans, and by orange vendors and snake charmers, and a few blue-eyed burnoose wearers holding up lumps of unwrapped and unlabelled dark stuff. Like hailstones, these may be classified by analogy to fruits and sporting goods. Typically they range from grape to baseball. At one point, the chaplain impulsively trades a Hershey bar for a golf ball of the stuff.
“What is that? Chocolate?” Bobby Shaftoe asks.
“If it was chocolate,” Root says, “that guy wouldn’t have taken a Hershey bar for it.”
“Shaftoe shrugs. “Unless it’s shitty chocolate.”
“Or shit!” blurts Private Nathan, provoking incredible hilarity.
“You heard of Mary Jane?” Root asks.
Shaftoe – role model, leader of men – stifles an impulse to say, Heard of her? I’ve fucked her!
“This is concentrated essence,” says Enoch Root.
“How would you know, Rev?” says Private Daniels.
“The Rev is not rattled. “I’m the God guy here, right? I know the religious angle?”
“Yes, sir!”
“Well, at one time, there was a group of Muslims called the hashishin who would eat this stuff and then go out and kill people. They were so good at it, they became famous or infamous. Over time the pronunciation of the name has changed – we know them as assassins.”
There was an appropriate respectful silence. Finally, Sergeant Shaftoe says, “What the hell are we waiting for?”
They eat some. Shaftoe, being the highest ranking enlisted man present, eats more than the others. Nothing happens.
“You tell me, Rev,” Shaftoe says.
Then he recognizes Blanket Man. He’s about to let fly with a lusty What in the fuck are you doing here, but something makes him hold back. The chaplains eyes make a sideways dart so small and so fast that only Shaftoe, who’s practically rubbing noses with him, could possibly see it. The message being: Shut up, Bobby, we’ll talk later.
“Private Hott is with God now – or wherever people go after they die,” says Enoch “You can call me Brother” Root.
“What kind of an attitude is that? Course he’s with God. Jesus Christ! ‘Wherever they go when they die.’ What kind of Chaplain are you?”
“I guess I’m a Detachment 2702 kind of chaplain,” the chaplain says. Lieutenant Enoch Root finally breaks eye contact with Shaftoe and turns his gaze to where the action is. “As you were, fellows,” he says. “Looks like bacon tonight, huh?”
The men chuckle nervously and resume sawing.
..
Shaftoe knows he ought to wait, but he just can’t stand it, “What are you doing here?” he finally says.
“The detachment is relocating,” the Rev says. “Closer to the front.”
“We just got off the fucking boat,” Shaftoe says. “Of course we’re going closer to the goddamn front – we can’t go any farther unless we swim.”
“As long as were pulling up stakes,” Root says coolly, “I’ll be coming along for the ride.”
“I don’t mean that,” Bobby Shaftoe says. “I mean, why should the detachment have a chaplain?”
“You know the military,” Root says. “Every unit has to have one.”
“It’s bad luck.”
“It’s bad luck to have a chaplain? Why”
“It means the waffle-butts are expecting a lot of funerals, is why.”
“So you are taking the position that the only thing a cleric can do is preside over funerals? Interesting.”
“And weddings and baptisms,” Shaftoe says. All of the other Marines chortle.
“Could it be you’re feeling a little anxious about the unusual nature of Detachment 2702’s first mission?” Root inquires, casting a significant glance at the late Hott, then staring directly into Shaftoe’s eyes.
“Anxious? Listen Rev, I done some things on Guadalcanal that make this look like Emily Fucking Post.”
All of the other Marines think this is a great line, but Root is undeterred.
“Did you know why you were doing those things on Gaudalcanal?”
“Sure! To stay alive.”
“Do you know why you’re doing this?”
“Fuck no.”
“Doesn’t that irritate you a little bit? Or are you too much of a stupid jarhead to care?”
“Well, you kind of backed me into a corner there, Rev,” Shaftoe says. After a pause he goes on, “I’ll admit to being a little curious.”
“If there was someone in Detachment 2702 who could help answer your questions about why, would that be useful?”
“I guess so,” Shaftoe grumbles. “It just seems weird to have a chaplain.”
“Why does it seem weird?”
“Because of the kind of unit this is.”
..
So with a dearth of complications that can only strike combat veteran Bobby Shaftoe as eerie, the truck leaves the Societe Algerienne d’Eclaraige et de Force behind and heads back up those damn ramps into Algiers. The climb’s steep – a first gear project all the way. Vendors and pushcarts loaded with boiling oil are not only keeping up with them but cooking fritters along the way. Three-legged dogs run and fight underneath the actual drive train of the truck. Detachment 2702 is also dogged by coffee-can-wearing natives threatening to play guitars made of jerry cans, and by orange vendors and snake charmers, and a few blue-eyed burnoose wearers holding up lumps of unwrapped and unlabelled dark stuff. Like hailstones, these may be classified by analogy to fruits and sporting goods. Typically they range from grape to baseball. At one point, the chaplain impulsively trades a Hershey bar for a golf ball of the stuff.
“What is that? Chocolate?” Bobby Shaftoe asks.
“If it was chocolate,” Root says, “that guy wouldn’t have taken a Hershey bar for it.”
“Shaftoe shrugs. “Unless it’s shitty chocolate.”
“Or shit!” blurts Private Nathan, provoking incredible hilarity.
“You heard of Mary Jane?” Root asks.
Shaftoe – role model, leader of men – stifles an impulse to say, Heard of her? I’ve fucked her!
“This is concentrated essence,” says Enoch Root.
“How would you know, Rev?” says Private Daniels.
“The Rev is not rattled. “I’m the God guy here, right? I know the religious angle?”
“Yes, sir!”
“Well, at one time, there was a group of Muslims called the hashishin who would eat this stuff and then go out and kill people. They were so good at it, they became famous or infamous. Over time the pronunciation of the name has changed – we know them as assassins.”
There was an appropriate respectful silence. Finally, Sergeant Shaftoe says, “What the hell are we waiting for?”
They eat some. Shaftoe, being the highest ranking enlisted man present, eats more than the others. Nothing happens.
“Only person I feel like assassinating is the guy who sold it to us,” he says.
~!~~!~~!~ ** ~!~~!~~!~
..
Paul Wolfowitz
World Bank, Dept of State, WPC (World Peace Council)
{ZhenBayonetWizzard-ElefenteLynnKeyes}
/
Robert Mueller
FBI, Cheka (All-Russian Extraordinary Commission for Combating Counter-Revolution and Sabotage Soviet Security Service '17 - '22)
{CloverSTSean-O-CossackDillonClover}
Paul Wolfowitz
World Bank, Dept of State, WPC (World Peace Council)
{ZhenBayonetWizzard-ElefenteLynnKeyes}
/
Robert Mueller
FBI, Cheka (All-Russian Extraordinary Commission for Combating Counter-Revolution and Sabotage Soviet Security Service '17 - '22)
{CloverSTSean-O-CossackDillonClover}
~!~~!~~!~ ** ~!~~!~~!~
..
Michael Martin
Blackwater, US Army SF, AK (Polish Home Army)
{PhoenixGeronimoPanther-StBlueEyeDixieStoneMarene-1991}
Michael Martin
Blackwater, US Army SF, AK (Polish Home Army)
{PhoenixGeronimoPanther-StBlueEyeDixieStoneMarene-1991}
~!~!~!~ ** ~!~~!~~!~
![[PR] POL INT](http://bp1.blogger.com/_W_CQbpGkxSs/R5FStlUQ-JI/AAAAAAAAA7M/Z89iMPmsguo/S220/PR-kremlin-yyy.jpg)
![[KR] COUNTER INT](http://bp1.blogger.com/_W_CQbpGkxSs/R5FSklUQ-II/AAAAAAAAA7E/5HPVsZL_vTA/S220/KR-MTwainMosque.jpg)
![[XR] SCI/TECH INT](http://bp2.blogger.com/_W_CQbpGkxSs/R5FSI1UQ-HI/AAAAAAAAA68/WbCd3uhngyU/S220/XR-VVH-konstantinovsky.jpg)
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