TwisterCone: It makes it's own path

  I caught Vivek Ramaswamy on ABC news today.  He is running for President this upcoming cycle.  He said some interesting things about “wokism” that I completely agreed with.  He defined “wokism” as “seeing everyone through the lens of ‘oppressor’ and ‘oppressed’, victim and perpetrator, and sort of viewing things through a sort of ‘wokist’ caste system.  I agreed with all that. Where he lost me was when he suggested we all need to go “work harder”, to “Grow the economy”, and “Get back to God.”  That terrifies me.  Super multi-denominational, plenty-of-religions ‘God’ is doing just fine on the back burner here in non-theocracy USA.  For all of the USA’s problems, I really believe that it is going to be the USA that gets its shit together in a few years and delivers us into a Star Trek-y, Orville-ish version of the future.  I really believe that version of the future is our best goal.  Our inspiration, really.   Continu...

  The blades each screamed in pain, unheard. So much pain. That wicked blade moving through them with a mechanical, unforgiving precision. Forgiving or not, it was relentless. Each blade standing at a uniform height after. Some blades having had fallen down, struggle back up towards the sun, aching for the healing wash of the rain. Hundreds of blades cut down almost instantly. Repeatedly, thousands every few seconds. They would all live. Most of them. And they would flourish. These wonderful, living, communities grew and evolved over time. Not just one type, but a vibrant and thriving cacophony of variety. Sentient, in their own foreign, plant sentient way. They all knew, once the snows receded and the days grew to be longer than the nights, that it was only a matter of time until the violence returned. But the plants were also aware that this vicious reaper let them grow to seed first, always. They were changing as a result, evolving, and they knew it. They liked it. Blessed be th...

     It had never occurred to me until today, but no one gives a single thought or care about my opinions.  “ Not one, single, person.” I thought (not even me sometimes) .    But I guess that’s not true either.  As soon as I dare share one that's not socially popular currently, a group of pile-on social justice warriors show up and start dictating 'care-direction' to each other.  Especially the vegans.  Man those vegans just go hard.  Vegetables must provide additional benefits besides just nutrients, anti-oxidants, and fuel.  Vegetables must provide some social justice fuel along with the good old, "Normal nutrition".      NOW I'm sure to have triggered the "white knights" into rallying and mounting up.  You know them, they (plural, TRIGGER WARNING) are the, "to-the-rescue" social justice warriors.  I will surely have got them involved and caring about my opinion by simply bringing up th...

       Behind the veil, it waits. Cigarette smoke, cigar smoke, campfire smoke; how is it that the smoke always seeks the person that likes it least. Light a cigarette out on the street with a person that doesn’t smoke and doesn’t like smoke, and it seems more often than not that the smoke can control the wind; always finding it’s way back into their face. Move over, around, upwind or wherever, that smoke seems to have a mind of it’s own. It’s the cat that runs away every time you try to pet it, only to run up everytime to the other familiar person that never cares to. It’s that same time on the clock you keep seeing.      Locked up tighter than a billionaires vaults, our harsh and vivid reality pulses all around us, powered by the magic of the veil. Existing, rather than not existing. Mere observation, humble us, little individual humans, causing reality to fluctuate this way or that, simply by seeing. It’s Shroedinger’s cat! Is it dead? ...

       I play too much M agic: The Gathering . I like to build decks and look at the cards. Moreso I like to go play Magic at a shop and meet people and interact. I build a lot more garbage decks than I do good decks. But that's the fun of it I guess. My friend Dom talks at dead people. He asks them to respond a lot. He gets responses. I say he talks “at dead people” because that is exactly what he is doing. Hopefully he is such a good person that he is immune to suggestion from them. I mean, there is no telling what it is that is actually interacting with him. The Mothman Prophecies movie was based on actual events. Maybe it’s a spirit other than a formerly living, human spirit. Maybe it’s a demon. Or a devil. Or a fallen angel, or maybe God in his infinite wisdom has aked one of the Angel’s to pretend to be the dead, in order to instill good feelings, all around. Maybe it’s a Mothman. I have a pile of thoughts about “The Mothmen”.     ...