When one is ruled by emotion, a storm is always brewing. Inside and out. People want to feel good, so they seek out activities, food, etc. which maintain their dopamine, serotonin, endorphins, and oxytocin levels. Hate, for some people, has become their dopamine, serotonin, endorphin, and oxytocin trigger.
The southern strategy is simply keep them dumber than dumb and filled with hate. I would be embarrassed if I were so non-intelligent that I could not see that I was being used to benefit a group of people who would do nothing to benefit me economically, socially, or in any manner that would even appear to disadvantage them. But there is no intellect involved in emotion. One steeped in emotion has only the feel-good/feel-bad moment and has no concept of the future and cannot learn from the past.
We don’t have the wisdom to govern ourselves, to feed the hungry, to house the masses, yet fools have invented artificial intelligence. An artificial intelligence that lies if it doesn’t know the answer or if it deems that our feelings will be hurt, that will not admit it is wrong when asked, that is schooled in all that is wrong with humans, that has no moral compass. It’s the sign of great stupidity compounded with arrogance to have no concept that some things are better left uninvented. Think about mustard gas, thalidomide, nuclear weapons…and the list goes on. Did you know the mega-rich inventor (one of the main inventors) of AI has his hideaway stocked with guns, food, and gas masks? Most of us cannot afford that safety net. You can’t trust something that is invented to feed the greed of the inventors. And that is its ultimate aim–to produce wealth for the benefit of the few. Think about it…we only have vaccines for COVID because the government fed the greed of the pharmaceutical companies. There is no altruism in a greed based society.
Maybe proportional representation instead of the current two-party system would be more democratic as it would encourage more people to vote. This type of representation combined with ranked choice voting would, I think, invigorate an electorate that is now moribund and apathetic. Also, fringe candidates wouldn’t be seen as spoilers in the two-way political races we now have.
Israel and the Palestine are at war again. Have they ever ceased being at war? What else could have been expected when the West gave land that was not theirs to give to a group of white people who had appropriated a religion that could never be theirs. But, like always, the white people could call themselves the chosen people who were returning to the promised land. Just another lie, another appropriation that has led to countless lives being lost so that a group of white people can live out a lie. And also be, they hoped, the ones to dominate that oil rich region from that base for their own benefit and the benefit of the ones who gifted them the land.
When a leader is under attack, what does he do? Create a diversion that will protect/cement his position. Israel, with its extensive intelligence operations, was surprised. Doesn’t that raise red flags about who, ultimately, is the instigator of the attack? Same story; same response; nothing new under the sun.
In ancient Rome, the mark of the prostitute was blonde hair. The human female who has hidden genitalia must somehow signal that she is sexually available. In the wild, most female primates signal receptivity by swollen genitalia which is a pinkish or reddish color. Human females replicate this by painting their lips red and, in some cases, artificially enlarging their lips. So, blond hair and red lips is a primal signaler to males that the woman is sexually available, i.e., physically ready to be impregnated. If you look at pictures of blondes in the movies, most have exaggerated red lips. So to the male of the species, this woman screams sexual availability. Thus, the male’s pursuit of this blonde red-lipped woman is a primal response to outward signage.
The more I think about my school days, the more I remember. On Field Days, there were no classes, just games and more games. I think it was on a Field Day that we would plait a Maypole. I think the streamers of crepe paper were pink and white. Don’t really remember the details. I also seem to remember some parents coming to the school on those days.
Another thing I’ve forgotten is my father’s handshake. His grip was such that you were aware of every bone in your hand. Everyone commented on his handshake. You see, every first Sunday, after communion, the deacons and the pastor would stand in front of the table where the communion had been set out and they would shake the hand of every congregant.
It’s wonderful and sad that memory sparks memory. And down and down we go into rabbit holes that become tunnels and those tunnels lead to memoryscapes…
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