On this day in 1996, Marge Schott -- not to be confused with Madame Blavatsky -- was the racist owner of the Cincinnati Reds who was forced to relinquish control of her baseball team for being a certifiable bigot. The US didn't play that bigot shit in 1996. We were growing, coming together, moving on from our bigoted past, and instead of surrounding a bigot with a conservative political party, we oust them on the streets.
Schott said such things as "Hitler was good in the beginning, but he went too far" -- something also stated by Donald Trump more than once.
Not, Marge Schott
Schott also said of her star players Eric Davis and Dave Parker that they were her "...million-dollar n*****s."
Then she said, "I don't like it when they (Asians) come here...and stay so long and then outdo our kids."
Yes, Marge Schott was a bigoted fool, and, unfortunately, a good fit for today's Trump Republican Party.
I'm not sure what "The End of Pluto in Capricorn" means, but if you follow the news, Donald Trump does appear to be in trouble with the law and may soon be wearing orange to match his shitty hair dye.
Esoterically Speaking, in ancient Greece, people honored the god Zeus on this day by wearing oak leaves in their hair. Also, in Korea, rice farmers wash their hair in a stream on this date as part of an annual ritual to dispel bad luck and ward off evil. The traditional Korean meal for this festival consists of fresh fish, steamed rice, and greens. See you at HMart boys and girls. I'm off.
The Mystic Law is the unlimited strength inherent in one's life. To believe in the Mystic Law is to have faith in one's unlimited potential.
Confused? How about this, It is The Secret on steroids. That is to say, it is what happens when we begin our day with gratitude, in service to others, respecting the greatest sutra of all, The Lotus Sutra. It's the law practitioners of Buddhism knew all along, but only now can share with you.
Stay
happy boys and girls, you deserve it. Don't let them rip us apart any
longer. There ain't no bad guy, there ain't no good guy/girl, there is
only me and you trying to obtain something, what, only we know.
Everywhere I turn there seems to be a new successful cancer treatment. A few weeks ago it was Proton Therapy, and just yesterday a pill that completely removed all the cancer cells in all the test subjects. Could I be cured just in the nick of time? I once wondered that years ago, and here we are 2022 and I have lung cancer and will either cure myself or be cured by a treatment. Today, I am still working on myself: Green tea, bitter melon, broccoli, carrots, vitamin B and C, oh, and most importantly, faith in my ability to cure this cancer by chanting Nam Myo Renge Kyo.
I get a chest scan this Friday to see how aggressive the tumors are. So there is still plenty of time to make a difference in the world. Funny, but when I saw other people dying I thought, "Why are they bothering planting a tree?" Now I see there is an enlightenment with dying, an enlightenment from knowing you'll soon have more answers and wondering if there will be more questions? Is it just the next level of the matrix?
June 6, no work today. This is good. I have time to commit myself in the "service of others." This is something I should have done a long time ago. Instead of chasing woman, drinking, and trying to obtain status in a world where such things are nothing more than an illusion, for in the end it is the love we make that matters.
I did my morning chants facing my Buddhist mandala, or object of devotion as we call it. I prayed and thanked for healing, and that the tumor cells in my body turn benign for this body that has the ability to create poison, has the ability to create medicine. I ate some raw carrots, broccoli, and bitter melon as my bitter melon, ginseng, green tea steeped.
I believe it is my faith that heals. I believe it is my faith that guides me. This Friday they scan my lungs to see what the tumors are doing. In the meantime, I will visit and a member of my faith at the hospital today where he has been over the last few months from a stroke. He has no one, no money, and no health insurance. He will need medical care the rest of his life. I will support him anyway I can without making a comment about healthcare in the USA.
I have another struggling friend who is jobless and living in an apartment with government assistance. I Venmo'd him twenty bucks last night so he can get some gas to go look for a a job.
Service to others. This is something I should have done a long time ago instead of chasing woman, drinkings, and trying to obtain status in a world where the only status there is, is love, or do I mean "Sacrifice?" Is this what the whole Jesus writings were really about? Not so much the "dying" as the "sacrifice" itself? Fiction or not, sacrifice is love now isn't it. Wooo, I just blew my mind.
More shootings and gun violence. I'm so tired of this shit that I almost bought a gun to shoot my TV, but then realized I would be part of the problem and so, I just turned my TV off. It worked! No more gun violence in my life.
It's June 1st and the Great Solar Wheel of the Yer is turned to the Summer Solstice. Named for the ancient goddess Juno, who represented the goddess of the State, Love, and most notable, the woman. Therefore, June is probably not a good month to pass a law to take away a woman woman's right to do what she wants with her body. But I really don't concern myself with these power struggles the world gives us. I may only have a few years left on this planet and want to see the beauty of being alive. The birds are singing outside my window, I have legs to walk, eyes to see, and ears to hear with. Still, I wonder about things that have happened historically on this first day of June. The day we use to celebrate hamadryads (female nature spirits who are believed to inhabit oak trees). It was called Festival of the Oak Nymph in times past. So hug an Oak Tree today, it will drive them mad.
IN 1638 on this day an earthquake rocked Plymouth, Massachusetts. It was the first time colonists in the New World had observed this phenomenon. Can you imagine the look on the natives faces as they watch the Pilgrims praying to a god they had never heard of? A goddess above the Oak Trees?
On May 28th in 1882, G.W. Foote published an issue of The Freethinker that would land him in jail for the charges of blasphemy.
He would be the last person prosecuted under this law, of course, the
bullshit prosecutions are still out there, but the names have changed. In May 1881, G. W. Foote began the radical magazine called The Freethinker. In the first issue he wrote: “The Freethinker is an anti-Christian organ, and must therefore be
chiefly aggressive. It will wage relentless war against Superstition in
general, and against Christian Superstition in particular”. Wow,
isn't that something, if the New York Times or any other modern day
publication read by mainstream U.S.A wrote that today there would be
hell to pay. So, G. W. Foote was definitely one hell of a man, in my
humble opinion. His primary writings were parody and satire with weekly Bible cartoons:
In 1882 Foote was charged with blasphemy for having published these biblical cartoons.
Two blasphemy prosecutions were brought against the issues of 28 May
1882. Foote pleaded his case that "religion" was "myth" and for humans
to obtain their humanist potential, we needed to stop following "myths"
-- I paraphrase. Of course, the Christian church controlled everything
then as it does now and so Foote was sentenced to a year in prison. The
good news is that just like all the right-wing laws they try pushing
down our throats today with their radical-right-wing judges, the
prosecution of Foote did nothing to stop progress: The Freethinker is still publishing truth over myth today. So
stay strong people, we're winning and they know it, there will be setbacks, but in the end, Truth will win. Can I get a hallelujah! ~~ Dr TV Boogie
It is the 27th day of May and I am still stunned by the senseless killings of 19 children in a Texas grade school. We all come into this life with a mission, a reason, and when that reason is done so are we. I am not sure what the mission of those kids were, but I am sure they had one and completed it in their short time here. This is why cancer doesn't matter to me, if I still have a reason to live, the cancer will wait. And as I told you before, the blue Buddha came to me in a dream and so I know I am healing and will stay alive as long as I continue my mission. I am chanting each morning that this body which can create a cancer cell, can heel a cancer cell. Therefore, I chant that the recent spots they found on my lungs are smaller than they were the day before, and that they are not cancerous. I then thank the heavenly deities for providing this. I also pray that the medicine king will bring me the knowledge, doctors, cures, etc., that I need. I drink green tea with bitter melon, ginseng, and honey each morning. I also eat raw broccoli and carrots when I have it. The bitter melon is an ancient Chinese cure that a Chinese healer told me about. My body will heal if I have more work to be done here, and I do. I am here to show you how I am surviving cancer through faith and works. The faith I speak of is the Mystic Law which saved my life over a year ago by alarming me to have my lungs checked. I've told you about it before, how while chanting my chest began to hurt which caused me to go to the hospital where they found a cancer spot. It amazed the doctors that I brought it to their attention so early. I had part of my lung removed and have lived another year without cancer. Now, it looks like there are more spots which could be cancerous. I am not sure what I have left, if it is to share with you how my faith has saved me again, or how I know by chanting I am protected and will be here as long as I am needed. Maybe just to share my cure with you, kind reader. The faith I speak of is the Mystic Law. To obtain it all you have to do is chant: Nam Myoho Renge Kyo. Give it a try.
"Hearing you have cancer at 62 isn't as bad as hearing you have it in your 20's or 30's."
I told the doctor this yesterday, as he told me to wait until the next C Scan to see if the spots on my lungs are growing at an alarming pace. An hour before meeting with the doctor I had texted a Cowboy friend of mine that I needed help in buying a handgun. "Why?" he texted back.
We both knew why.
My mom laid in a Hospice bed in my living room for three months dying in a zombie state. I changed her bedpan and wiped the feces off her body. The last words she said to me was, "I am sorry you have to do this for me. It isn't right." Even in her morphine state, she felt shame.
I don't want to end up like that.
That is what was going on in my head when I asked Cowboy Joe to help me buy a gun.
As fate would have it, Mia, another friend texted me shortly after I had gotten home: "Michael is Dead. He shot himself in the head."
I guess the thought of taking my own life was in the ether because of Michael.
Mia was a woman I had dated which turned into a lifelong friendship after we broke up. She had been in a dysfunctional relationship with Michael for over three years. I only heard from her when they were in breakup mode.
She told me how she watched him do it and saw the gap in his head from the gun shot along with his protruding eyes as the life vibrated out his body with a jolt.
I couldn't tell her that the same thought of suicide came across my mind a few hours earlier outside the doctor's office.
I thought about my daughter or ex wife having to identify my exploded head. That would be worse than changing my bedpan.
I guess it will be better to die in a Hospice bed as mom had, if fate so dictates it.
I'm not one to make a mountain out of a molehill, but I have to wonder about the Sun. According to a CNN Science article, "The sun is experiencing a less active phase called 'solar minimum,'" The article goes on to say: "...just like us, it (the Sun) goes through phases and changes. Over time, those
changes in our star have become more predictable. Currently, it's going
through a less activephase, called a solar minimum."
The
sun experiences regular 11-year intervals including energetic peaks of
activity, followed by low points. During the peak, the sun showcases
more sunspots and solar flares. Scientists at NASA say we're currently
in a "Grand Solar Minimum." The last time this occurred was between 1650
and 1715.
Curious
on what the years 1650 to 1715 were about, I researched and found that
those years are known historically as the Age of Louis XIV. Louis ruled
from 1643 to 1715. The most notable events from this time was, war.
According to Wikipedia, France was the leading European power, and it
fought three major wars: the Franco-Dutch War, the War of the League of Augsburg, and the War of the Spanish Succession. There were also two lesser conflicts: the War of Devolution and the War of the Reunions.
War was such a part of the time of Louis XIV that reference books such
as An Encyclopedia of Global Warfare and Civilization by Cathal J. Nolan, write: "Dominated by the ambitions of France's King Louis XIV, Europe in the
years 1650-1715 witnessed a series of wars from which emerged many of
the theories, practices, and technologies that characterize modern
warfare.
Yes, Vertigo, the world of Donald Trump and Louis XIV. Yesterday I told you the world under Dr Donald Trump is a world of chaos,
but I think "Vertigo" is a better way of saying it. What are the other
similarities between Trump and Louis XIV? Take a seat, the similarities
are Vertigo crazy.
Of
all the similarities between Trump and Louis XIV, the most notable are
their egos. Trump says he is the greatest president ever and everyone
before him sucked (no shit, look it up). Louis XIV, not only thought he
was the greatest ruler, but also felt he was the Sun King and so had
the church priest call him one. Which the church happily did just as
the Christians church today happily calls Donald Trump "Gods Handyman (paraphrased)."
Louis XIV loved gold. He had everything around him plastered in it:
Hall of Mirrors, Palace of Versailles.
Trump hotels are usually gold, well, fake gold, but still, gold:
Trump’s triplex is a marble-and-onyx-covered ode to Versailles that he
calls “comfortable modernism.” It is a $100 million penthouse that sits
atop the Trump Tower on Manhattan’s 5th Avenue. (Scott Frances/Otto)
Finally, from Odyssey Magazine: Louis XIV was known for his aggressive nature
throughout his reign. He engaged France in wars that many historians
look back on as unnecessary, and his foreign policy was less than
forgiving. During the 1680s, Louis XIV generated public hostility,
creating tension and stunting growth among France's rigid class
system.
In a visit to New York's Trump Tower,
one is easily amazed at the grandeur of Donald's shrine to himself. The
entire building sparkles, and overwhelms the senses through the sheer
excess present; individuals can see themselves on every single wall and
are painted with a bronze shadow that falls over the entire interior.
Guards check bags at the door, and watch the elevator to make sure only
those with IDs are heading to the top. Four floors of glitter are open
to the public eye, but after that only the very rich may continue. No
matter what floor you're on, everything screams Trump: Trump Grill, a
signature Trump clothing line, and Ivanka Trump's small jewelry case.
Everything shouts Trump's name, singing of his fortune and fame.
The similarities between the Sun King and The Donald are uncanny.
Slightly obsessed with themselves and able to dedicate an entire
building in their honors? Check. Causing chaos? Check. Looking back to
the original architectural cues of both buildings, a continued amazement
of self-obsession can be easily noticed, and further comparisons of the
two leaders increase with time. Louis XIV was controversial, without
much of a soft side. Trump is, well, Trump.
So, yes boys and girls, we are in a Vertigo Time Warp also known as a Solar Minimum, and since it seems to be enjoying Trump as our leader, I bet you Trump becomes president again, and finally, they will have the world they want. Or maybe, you will have the world you want. Truth is: we get the world we deserve.
On this day in the year 1800, the House of Representatives suggested the building of a pyramid, 100 feet square at the base and "of proportional height." The notion that a pyramid would best represent the idea of George Washington. Hence, in accordance with Masonic practices, construction of the obelisk began on July 4, 1848, with a ceremonial laying of the enormous cornerstone, which had been donated by the Mason Thomas Symington who owned the quarries from which the monument's marble was taken. The ceremony was conducted by Benjamin French, wearing the Masonic apron and sash George Washington had worn when he laid the cornerstone of the Capitol building in 1793. Some say the obelisk was chosen because America wanted to look like it had been around for awhile, or as other's have suggested, "put down ancient roots" by choosing the ancient Egyptian symbol. I don't know, looks pretty much like a male phallic symbol to me from all the male energy that founded this country. Unfortunately, I have to break the news to ya'll here: it's Pagan! More precisely, Pan, the goat god of sensuality. The word ‘obelisk’ literally means ‘Baal’s shaft’ or Baal’s organ of reproduction.”
Another story links the obelisk to a different phallic myth – Osiris’ golden phallus.
Osiris was a king of Egypt who married his sister Isis. His brother Set wished to usurp the throne and so plotted his death. He tricked Osiris into climbing into a golden chest. As soon as he was inside, Set nailed down the lid and flung the chest into the Nile. It was carried off to Byblos in Syria where it came to rest against a small Tamarisk tree or Acasia tree, with the dead Osiris still inside. Isis found out what Set had done to Osiris, so she set off to find her husband. A vision led her to Byblos, where she recovered his body and took it back to Egypt.
Set stole it again and tore it into fourteen pieces, which he scattered throughout Egypt to prevent Osiris from coming to life again. Isis recovered all but one of the pieces – the penis – and gave Osiris a fit burial. Their son, Horus, avenged him by slaying Set. Another son, Anubis, resurrected Osiris with the ‘lion grip.’
Having triumphed over the grave, Osiris now reigns as king and judge of the so called dead. The piece of Osiris that Isis never recovered was the penis, which Set had thrown into the Nile where it was eaten by fish. Ever resourceful, Isis manufactured an artificial organ (the golden phallus) around which the Egyptians eventually established a cult or festival they could pay tribute to.
From this it is a small step to the conclusion that the obelisk was itself meant to be a phallic symbol.
Whether of Osiris, Baal, or fertility in general, it was a representation of fatherhood and patriarchy.
While the idea that the obelisk is a representation of the phallus may be a story that seems stranger than fiction, when you think of Washington as the founding father of the United States, and the obelisk being a representation of fatherhood/patriarchy, it makes a lot of sense.
In 1908 the U.S. Congress adopted a law making the phrase "In God We Trust" obligatory on certain American coins. It was placed there to replace the socialistic phrase put their by the framers of our constitution: "Out of Many, One" -- E Pluribus Unum.
Yes, it wasn't until 1908 that the political use of the word God found its way into politics. So, the next time someone tells you this is Gods country and holds up a dollar bill to prove it, tell them to “open a f*&king history book, bozo.”
The Vestal Tuccia Carrying Water, by Hector Leroux (French, 1829-1900).
On this day in ancient Rome, the Vestal Virgins
performed an annual purification rite to ensure the water supply for
the coming year. It consisted of the "sacrifice" of twenty-seven straw
puppets to the river god of the Tiber.
The Vestal Virgins were the priestesses of the Roman goddess of the hearth (home). They tended the sacred fire in the shrine of Vesta, performed rites, and kept the place tidy and clean. The roman writer Plutarch (45-120 CE) said they were the "keepers of divine secrets, concealed from all but themselves."
Vestal virgins were chosen from highborn families and were granted privileges that would have been unimaginable for other women in Ancient Rome. They
could own property, vote, and write a will. They had the best seats at
public games, and they even had the power to free condemned prisoners
and slaves.
The virgins were chosen between the ages of six and ten years old by
the chief priest and had to serve for 30 years (during which time they,
of course, had to remain chaste). Once their 30 years of service was
completed, they were free to marry, but very few did as it was
considered unlucky since they had, essentially, been the brides of Vesta
for most of their lives and were consecrated to the goddess.strict observance of a single life.
If a Vestal Virgin
failed in her duties, she was severely beaten and the punishment for
loss of virginity was being buried alive, though other, worse,
punishments were sometimes given such as having molten lead poured down
one's throat. Even so, the Vestal Virgins were honored by the community,
had most of their needs provided for by temple tithes, and were free of many of the restrictions Roman women
had to endure. It was, in fact, because they were so highly regarded
that the punishment of breaking their vows was so severe. Plutarch
writes, "If these vestals commit any minor fault, they are punishable by
the high-priest only, who scourges the offender, sometimes with her
clothes off, in a dark place, with a curtain drawn between; but she that
has broken her vow is buried alive near the gate called Collina, where a
little mound of earth stands." Most of the virgins on record kept their
vows, however, and continued through time to honor their goddess Vesta,
and the city and people of Rome, until the coming of Christianity.
The fall of the Roman Empire,
it was argued, was caused by the acceptance of Christianity and the
neglect of the old gods who had kept the city safe and prosperous for so
long. Both St. Augustine and Orosius
wrote in defense of this very accusation. The desecration of the temple
of Vesta, and the disbanding of the Vestal Virgins, was seen by pagans
as the height of ingratitude for the service the goddess had given the
city over the centuries. A woman named Serena, the Christian niece of
Theodosius I, is said to have desecrated Vesta's temple by taking the
necklace from her statue and claiming it for her own -- those silly Christians. For this act she
was cursed by one of the last remaining Vestal Virgins and was tormented
by nightmares about her impending death. Whether she died young is not
known, nor is the truth of the account verified, but the fact that it
survives attests to the importance the Vestales played in the
life of ancient Rome and what their loss meant to those of the city who
did not place their faith in the new god of the Christians.
So dear readers, enjoy a glass of clean water in honor of the Vestal Virgins today. It can do you no harm.
A vision came to me this morning while chanting: I saw John Lennon's 'Imagine' album cover and saw he had his head in the clouds on the album cover. I never put it together back then, but now I do.
I had stared at that album cover for hours as I listened to the songs on the album. I never thought about how John had his head in the clouds. I saw it as two separate things: the clouds, and then John. I never put the message together for I never have been good at seeing the obvious. The obvious message of how he was telling the world he was okay with his head in the clouds. Something I heard a lot as a kid and it was never good: "Get your head out of the clouds or you'll end up dead."
It is funny that I see now how John was telling me it was okay to have my head in the clouds while the world around me was telling me different. And I tried to get my head out of the clouds, I really did, but I never could. As a kid they told me to "apply myself," "focus,", "Wake up!" But I couldn't. And when I became a grown man with a wife, kid, and house in the suburbs, my head was still in the clouds. Which led to a divorce where I could be alone. You see, being alone with my head in the clouds works for me.
In the 90's they told me I wasn't "grounded enough." I did the New Age workshops and tried to find my place on the earth. Those were wasted years: a person with his/her head in the clouds can not be grounded, and so, must remain alone.
Which brings me to Emily Dickenson. I digitized a documentary of her life yesterday, and just as I had never conceptualized the meaning of Lennon with his head in the clouds, I had never conceptualized the life of Emily Dickenson and how she remained alone. Obviously, she too had her head in the clouds and so had to be alone, for being alone no one can tell you to get your head out of the clouds, now can they?
I told my oldest friend about my cancer today. He lives in China. So now two people know about my death sentence, and both are on a continent I'll never see in this lifetime: China. It is funny that I've been most places on earth but never to China, in this lifetime. I know I have been there in a past life. With a third of the people who have ever lived having been Chinese, I think it is safe to say we have all been Chinese in a previous life.
Not sure where I am going with today's words, and I am sorry that they are so cloudy, but well, you see, because I could not stop for death, death has stopped for me, and I have never been closer to John or Emily.
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