Post Zombie Formalism Illustrated

The most intellectual man has done it again. There is a new way to to transfer wealth. Artwork. The way I understand Zombie Formalism in the art world is the art would simply seek to please the billionaire market. When a billionaire selected a piece of art, all art of that type would become more valuable. Who’s art is where in whom’s yacht would determine the market for that type of art. It is not about the art, it is the process.

The process is zombie like in it’s formality. Hence the name. Only the most wealthy determine the value of art. The art industry would follow along zombie like munching on the singular brain. The process of those who were not the buyers influencing the market had been eliminated. Museums would not feature new unknown artwork for arts sake. A critic would not find new art, or pan something that was a popular fad. To do so would be to be minimized, or worse. Art was curated to please just a few, innovation is now to please a almost singular atheistic. Because of that some feel art has become pathetic.

Welcome to the next revolution. Art as wealth. In a way art has always been a form of wealth. Beauty has been in the eyes of the beholders. Value has been subjective as any market has been. Yet art has always been a way to show wealth. Art collecting has been a form of status for showing wealth. Separate from politics, art has showed success. Now, that art has become political, art will be the path to success. Access to the intellectually superior minds may now be purchased in the form of art for the benefit of the purchaser. No FTC looking over your shoulder. Success in it’s pure and simple form. A trade deal for all to see. Interpret art as you see fit, a compilation of trade and wealth. Access to the yacht if you will.

It is my desire to create an image with simple words. Art in it’s own way. However in the end, money gets what it wants. We try to please.

Dr. Jill Revisited

Right now Dr. Jill Biden is the most powerful person in the world. We know she is a teacher. I will presume she is pro union. Lots of teachers are. Yet we know little about Jill, expect that she has great influence on Joe. She, like Trump, has a bit of an ego. She claims she obtained her doctorate for the title. She wanted respect.

Yet she is a teacher. I am a teacher. We have something in common! She teaches English writing. Wow, I may not teach writing but I do write. I wonder how she would grade me? Anyway she is pretty much an unknown to me, so I would be remiss to judge Jill. So I wish her the best. Even though Joe calls her Kiddo, I think, because of his diminished capacities, he will now listen to what she has to say.

Making Hay

Evidently making hay is a bad thing. Steve Colbert said something about making hay with Hunter Biden. Look, I make hay and it has nothing to do with politics. What are they talking about trying to make everything political? Since when is making hay an evil thing? What is wrong with these people? Or is it just the way I do it.

So I read that Hunter has brought millions to the Biden family from Bohai Harvest. Now I do not know what type of hay Bohai is. We just grow the type of hay that grows naturally. My brother planted a little Timothy thinking the horses that eat the hay would like it. I have no idea how Hunter makes millions from hay. DC must have some good hay. We only make a few hundred dollers.

We have some old farm equipment that we literally found on the side of the road that we then fixed up to process the hay. Making hay is a little like racing, we drive around in circles and things break. Then we fix things a drive in circles again till the hay is done. That is pretty much how we harvest the hay. We then sell the hay for $5 a bale to someone that has a horse rescue farm.

So I really do not know how to make many millions harvesting hay. Yet it seems it can be done. I guess that is why our next president Joe Biden said that his son Hunter “is the smartest man I know in a pure intellectual capacity”. I guess it is about his abilities to make hay. I will have to admit, if Hunter can make millions making hay he really is smart. Let’s just hope his customers are happy with the product.

Do-Si-Do

It is a dance step. Commonly associated with the square dance, however the step is also used in other dances. Actually I was thinking about the dance of the compass and the square upon the holy books. If you get the point. Me thinks that the the compass is just an articulating square if you will. Formed of the rib, as in a curve. If a man is the angle, yes men have an angle, only some of them are square. Then the she is articulating. In the end, we eventually know who comes out on top. If we attain wisdom, dancing upon the holy books. Articulation is the creator.

My Father, The President

Much to my surprise they elected my father to be president, of the United States. Let me tell you about him.

My earliest political memory is of when President Kennedy was shot. I was quite distraught. Someone had shot the president, who would lead the country? My first thought was my father could lead the country, he knows everything. I soon learned that there were systems in place for the transfer of the presidential title, why they even had a vice president readying go. Even though I found that reassuring I was still slightly disappointed. I thought my father would have made a better president.

I have always liked cars. Back when my brother and I were Cub Scouts they had a Pinewood Derby. My dad helped us build nice cars. He was also a judge for the race. It was an elimination type of race. When it came down to the trophy run, my car won. Yet my father called the race to the other guy. He said he wanted to be fair.

When Nixon was running for president my father brought us to see him. I was a bit surprised at the time that he wanted to go see someone who was running for president. In hindsight I think that he had wanted to argue with him. We were surprised that So many people went to see him. We barely got a glimpse of Nixon.

We were involved in Boy Scouts, I had a lot of fun and learned a lot. My father was somewhat predictable. When there was a dispute between two boys, it was best to be the first one to tell the story to my father. His answer was inevitably the same. You are right, the other boy was wrong. I will give you some money to make it better.

My father was named after a jester and a surgeon. He always had a smile. He walked through life smiling.

One time his company was moving. They paid me to help them move. When I picked up his secretary’s typewriter she burst into tears. That was a bit confusing.

When we were growing up, my father and uncle would swap birthday cards saying they should run for mayor. We never asked why they did that, we do not think about politics much.

Actually my father was a big fan of John Anderson. He gave him money to run for president. Claimed he would be paid back. I thought John Anderson was going to be the next president. I was surprised when he only received six percent of the vote.

Actually my father was having an affair with his secretary. She had a daughter that was institutionalized. My father was very empathetic. He had me institutionalized.

If given the choice between the truth and a lie, my father would believe the lie. I proved it to him one time. I have him the choice between the truth and an obvious lie. I asked him to choose the truth. He chose the lie because he wanted to believe it. He then called me a liar.

My father really got into politics after he retired. Free time and a new girlfriend. He was a liberal’s liberal. He started carrying signs and protesting.

I went to a party with his liberal friends. We played a game where we played different socialists. I was given the high honour of playing Fidel Castro. I was known to enjoy cigars. I wasn’t very good at it. I didn’t know any Fidel quotes.

I told my dad that I would carry his signs if he would get me a cushy union job. He became mad. He did not like unions. He had worked with unions back when he was industry. I was a bit confused, I thought he was in the pro union party.

My father would protest weekly. He called his protest vigils. He would dress up in a black burka and hold a bloody baby doll. He did this in a number of town squares with his friends. Sometimes he would stand in the road. He would be happy when people got mad at him. He could then call them stupid.

He gave most of his money away to charity. Over four figures a month. He was happy that he lived below the poverty line.

He wanted to live in the past, like the 1700’s. Modern conveniences were unnecessary in his mind.

He expected people to work for him for free. Why, because he was smart. Smart people get to tell stupid people what to do. He thought people should pick up rocks and build stone walls. Why? Because that is what they did in the past.

He claimed that the old house was part of the underground railroad. Why? Because there was a small hidden room behind the gable. He would give tours, school buses with children would drive to look at the underground railroad. I said all houses with a gable would have a hidden space, it is the nature of geometry. I did some research about the underground railroad. Most slaves traveled through cities where there would be freemen, or to the car seat where there were forests. They did not travel through open farmland like this place was at the time. I asked if there was any family history that talked about runaway slaves. He replied no, but it was up time to prove that there were no slaves in the room. Reality, the little room may have not existed before the civil war. The gable may have been added after the war.

My father believed being right justified theft. He would steal the oppositions signs. I had thought that was his anomaly. Yet it proved to be the norm for his cause. He would advocate violence for his cause. I disagreed with him.

My father would relish arguing. There was no other point of view other than his own. Most people knew better that to argue with him. Others wished they could argue like him.

Shortly before he died we had an argument, he said I was not of his blood.

When he died I fulfilled all his wishes. He filled the church with a standing room overflow crowd. The crowd was a order of magnitude larger than had ever been in that church during my life. There was a very long line of people waiting to get in. Most did not know he had sons.

After he died I opened his mail. I remember a letter from Hillary. Addressed to my father it started “You and I think alike ” and it end with “send me money so I can implement our beliefs”. It was very effective.

My father was a kind and caring person, just at times misguided.

I wonder how he likes being president.

Sustainability

Seems like a simple word. Sustainable. Sort of like the ability to survive. To keep on keeping on. Where I work we teach sustainability. I had likened sustaining to efficacy. It is the more efficient systems that are sustainable.

Of course I am now an old person. When I was young they said to trust no one over forty. Well I am sixty percent over that now. Why should a twenty year old trust what I have to say. In a way, I understand that. So I listen.

When asked for a movie recommendation for a Sci-fi film featuring manufacturing a young expert suggested Snow Piercer. Spoiler alert, I will talk about the film. It is a relatively recent film (in my years) by a Korean director. As I am tired of Hollywood propaganda, I thought it might be interesting. It was. The scenario was a perpetual train on snowball earth. The only life on earth was aboard the train. On board the train was a fascist society with the goal of sustainability. The population on board the train consisted of the haves and the have-nots. The have-nots wanted to overthrow the haves. There was lot of violence.

I disagreed with all the violence. The movie was basically just a train wreck. At the end of the movie two people survive the train wreck and see a polar bear looking at them. Sustainability would be going back in the train and getting a gun to shoot the polar bear. Not a very good definition of sustainability.

Yet, the movie got me to thinking about what people perceive as the meaning of sustainability. The movie described sustainability as the justification of fascism. Yikes, I do not view my job as a justification of fascism. Of course that may be an extreme interpretation, yet violence was heavily promoted.

We teach the U.N. defined definition “Meeting the needs of the present without compromising the ability of future generations to meet their own needs.” A rather nebulous statement, that seems a bit word salad to me. As I poked around looking for other definitions I did see a man versus nature balance thing going on. It is true, we do teach we cannot survive living like we do. Something that I personally do not agree with. If I remember correctly it is something they taught when I was in school. Yet here I am, it is something I remind the students of when they ask.

Of course sustainability is not the big thing for me. I believe that manufacturing makes our lives better. The better we make things the better our lives will be. Efficiency and utilization are important, that is how we make things better. Am I fooling myself when I consider efficiency and utilization to be sustainability? I could be. Like the Ying and the Yang I consider the Holy dance of the compass and square to be enlightenment. The articulating she and the he. Sustainability might just be the fourth part of a circle, but it is not creation. Yet where I am, sustainable is the first word. So it demands reasonable definition.

Don’t trust anyone over forty, it is true. I trust the students. They are my muse. They are the future. I willing lend them my experience, for they can use it better than I. Yet I now desire to describe sustainability for them. For they are not satisfied to have sustainability described as a lie.

“The preservation and promotion of humanity” will be my description of sustainability. It is not a us verses them thing. Sustainability should promote improvement, and infer an innate goodness. I will have to ask the young people what they think. I am open for suggestions.

Slipped a Mickey

When I started this journey I listened to NPR and watched CNN and MSNBC. They said older white working males would support the entrepreneurial Trump for president. Sounded like a good idea, so I went to listen to the man. He spoke of love, a big beautiful gate, and jobs. He had my support. I also discovered the entrepreneurial Trump had support from many people that were not older white working males. In fact I was a minority amongst his supporters.

Now I occasionally watch OAN and read Canada Free Press. The American electorate was slipped a Micky. It is quite obvious. Even alleged Biden supporters do not support Biden. The best that could be said is they support unions. That’s it. It was not said that Trump was anti union either, what they said was much worse, and not true. Yah, they slipped the electorate a Mickey.

Now it’s the morning after. Groggy with Coranavirus, not really sure what happened, we assess the situation. The robbery is evident. Yet who and why, not so much. The people with the great wall know the value of bribing the gatekeeper. Yet there is also evidence of an inside job, selfish greed as a motivating factor. Coordinated theft is conspiracy, conspiracy to overthrow is treason. The stakes are high.

So what to do next? I’m not sure. Groggy is my state of mind. Suspicions are not evidence, or proof. Yet, we know it is probably the truth. My suggestion, fasten your seat belts. The chickens will come home to roost.