OBSERVER ON A SMALL PLANET
                                                  by: Stark Overplus

         - Starter fluid  - a few excerpts from
           drumballia.txt -

           Try this for a bigger than life bitesize

           Make a lie a truth and a truth a lie -
           you know those kind of people, there are
           too many of them

           Your eyes have opened.


 FIRST TIME PRODUCTIONS INCORPORATED

 I am kind to adults children infants pets animals birds insects and
 plantlife. What else is there, living in the best of the lifestream.

 on the bright side of the mountain
 on the bright side of the moon
 on the bright side of the fountain
 on the bright side of the room
 there you can stand in grand illumination

 hold on a moment
 I am just going to
 wrap the rat around the power
 pole. hmmm. the rat didn't squeel. what
 happened is the power pole was too far down
 in the hole for anyone to notice, anyone
 who could have helped the rat.

 I would never squeel the rat. The chance line of poetry
 is all the noise you will hear from me, regarding using
 overpluses from the negative.


                        DRUMBALLIA

               Rythms that soften the world.

               Clear light surrounds the sounds
               the sounds surround clear light in
               more than a universe, heard in profound
               powerful rythms so supreme so low so high
               so millions of octaves in between, these
               continue evolving today, and became
               fundamental fabrics of Creation
               before matter began.


 A flag flaps forlornly and motionless in deep space just
 beyond the atmospheres of earth. It is the derelect hubble
 unused everything on it cooled to the ulta cold temperatures
 of surreal space. A memory flag has been placed on it in hello
 to anyone who happens by. The flag reads...


                               FROM EARTH
                               VIA THE WORLD -
                               SIGNED BY THE PEOPLE


 Positive wins another round in the countdown.
 The above flag, meant by makers to show
 existence of themselves and presumed
 higher intelligence, the flag is actually
 one of the best examples going anywhere
 of the nature of Spirit, Mind, and Body.



 Lack of wisdom, insight, illumination - union president rants to
 assembly at high volume ... We Are So Very Proouud To Be On Strike
 Today, And Every Day, Indeeeeed, If Not, We Would Be Hard At Work ...


 SOUND CAME FIRST IN CREATION, BEFORE LIGHT.

 Stupendous powerful sonic patterns are principle ingredients in
 fabrics of creation. These are not chaotics or random terrible noises,
 these sounds are rythmical, glorious, so rich and joyfully intense it
 is hardly possible to imagine them let alone experience what they can
 be like. Cosmic sonics exist in potential form, and are not present
 until mechanisms are activated to manifest them in one form or another.

 See cosmicastronomy.com/newsonic.htm this link, for one form of
 manifestion, in pushing rythms as sound rythmics played for audiences,
 even harmonic music at home is connected to those formidable fundamentals.
 <BR><BR>


 _______as light as you can touch a butterfly without disturbing it_______


 Has
 the lorrrrd
 pinched you on the
 cheek today, and one, an incarnate
 planetary observer, gestures, saying 'you
 mean' as if pinching the buns of a bottom. No one
 in the collected group from the assembly around all getting
 ready to spoo their weekly concentrations of hallaluliahs and praise
 the lords, understands. Only one in the group has noticed the
 gesture but the illumination is wasted, the meaning
 has evaded her too, the one who noticed only
 notices the possiblity that the
 lord has that very day
 pinched another,
 on the bottom.
 Alas, the
 pinch
 on the
 gasshole at
 the bad side of
 the scorpio principle
 did not that day a parable make.
 The observer had to leave, vigorously
 outrunning the gunners and discharging tired
 racket from the urgent pleas of the charismatic horn
 againers wondering why the observer should be asking such
 user unfriendly born again questions as who gets Denmark, who
 gets Australia, after the aftermath. The gentle cupped hands of the
 lord lifting 144,000 real live beings to heaven before the final
 cleanup, before being returned to Earth as owners of Earth for
 the rest of eternity. The hidden planetary observer
 knows why this bliss is
 never going to
 happen.
 Which
 is why
 risky words,
 risky gestures, are
 possible, words in front of a
 fundamental charistmatic assembly such as
 person number 144,000 of the expecially chosen 144,000
 from amongst millions all one of the 144,000, if that person turns
 out to have a hated friend (which he does), and returns to Earth
 for eternity still hating that friend, what are they with
 that hate lusting feud going to do then, when, back
 on Earth, each time they meet, for instance in
 Denmark, or Australia, for the
 rest of eternity.


 ---------------------------------------


 Hey you,
 observer on a
 small planet, have you
 seen the newspaper today, turned
 to the Homes page, and read about thiS home?

    Marrit and Ben Hen are so important, so important. They bought a
    house. The solarium (room for houseplants) was added in 1936. The
    library was added in 1327 er 1927. The house was originally a small
    red brick farmhouse built in 1879. The brick was sided with white
    wood in 1919. The white wood was replaced with aluminum siding in
    1986. The owners succumbed to old age in 1999 and the survivor went
    to an old folks home. Marrit and Ben Hen bought the house in 2000
    and contacted the newspapers about the house. Marrit and Ben Hen
    are so important, so important. The daily newspaper ran a full
    page on the house, featuring Marrit and Ben Hen who are so
    important, so important, in the solarium, in the library,
    in different sittings, looking at the camera, in their
    house. There are things about society that just
    escapes us completely. The things are
    so important. So important.


 _______THE FLOATILLA OF LITTLE FLYING SAUCERS_______


 What do you think fruit flies
 are telling you about
 Cosmic Law.
 Now
 you are all
 familiar with the
 little phenomena known as
 flying saucers. These are fruit
 flies who have taken up room in your
 garbage pail or kitchen composter or even
 the rack of bannanas left on the kitchen counter.
 In case you do not know, these little flying saucers are
 amongst the most savvy creatures you can have in your house,
 for they are conscious. Picture, it is mid July, the time of the
 Cancer frequency. When disturbing their lair, for instance pitching
 more waste in the kitchen composter, a mini floatilla will rise right
 up and buzzing around home right in on a place right in front
 of your chest, dozens of little flying saucers hovering
 there, motionless, right in front of your chest.
 If you move your forefinger forward to
 see what might happen, the whole
 floatilla jumps back as
 one, one single
 jump in a
 split
 second
 the whole
 little group
 is moved back exactly
 one foot, standing guard here
 in the air station keeping, looking at you,
 to see what you might do next. If you move back away
 the offending forefinger, for instance putting it behind your
 back, the whole floatilla moves in the instant foreward again in a single
 clump in station keeping in the air right in front of your Cancer Center
 in front of your chest, all parallel, hovering, motionless. Now - it is
 November, the time of Scorpio. What do you think happens now. When
 pitching something into the garbage recepticle out comes a
 horde and quickly rallies as a floatilla of little
 flying saucers, but this time, instead
 of rallying in station
 keeping hanging
 motionless in
 the air in
 a covey right
 in the middle of
 your Cancer frequency,
 they start swinging back and
 forth willy nilly in a swarm in front
 of your crotch, none together in uniform motion,
 all on their own yet all in the same place in space, swinging
 back and forth each in its own plane each in its own distance away
 slowly swinging and swirling back and forth in front of your crotch.
 By now you must be thinking 'I must have completely lost the
 point'. But I have not. What do you think these
 little flying saucers called fruit
 flies are telling you
 about the Cancer
 frequency,
 about
 the Scorpio
 Principle. As I said,
 fruit flies are consciousness.


 _______ALL MINDS MUST AGREE_______


 You can be politically correct
 when using the word 'hallucination'
 for masturbating since masturbating is
 nothing more than a super monumental hallucination.

 Don't get me wrong. See this image once again. Am I wrong or does
 that central figure look like a gigantic lizard-like life form - the
 long head reared back, the long forearms, the legs - all bi-pedally
 symmetrical, in a seated stance, holding a scroll, emphatically
 announcing.

 I have always understood people who can see pictures and animals in the
 clouds. I have always had a lot of trouble with people who see the face
 of the lord in window glass on the side of a skyscraper. What about
 anyone who sees intelligence in the middle of galaxies. Even if 'Eagle'
 is not a cosmic Sasquatch, the idea that beings of such form and stature
 may be out there is interesting already, and the remark about 'Eagle'
 simply intends to accellarate the interesting thoughts a little, to a
 life more reasonable than the hallucination, a life more conductive to
 Peace, Joy, and Happiness, a life where sex and the carnal heyday that
 produces nothing but appalling racket and costs people years if not
 centuries off their lives, this does not exist either. So, if on the
 planet and new to its ridiculous hey-days cosmically speaking, if
 you suddenly find yourself waking up in the midst of gripping the
 neck of the dragon, let the dragon go, finishing the yanks won't
 solve your problems now or in any life scheduled for you in
 energy years to come.

 Have
 you tried
 to grow your hair
 L O N GGGG . You, a new soul of
 the planet incarnated, baby fed, and now
 fancy free. What happens when you grow your hair.
 Is it so fine, so thin-stranded, so filmy, that nothing
 can be done with it after a certain length not quite shoulder.
 The only thing is to cut it off, not once, not twice, but several
 times in your lifetime each time you thought it might be time to try
 long hair. Mustaches did not work, every sip of coffee, every spoon of
 soup even the juices of pizzas, went sloop up into the mustache the
 instant a mustache hair made contact with it. Every time you
 gloated your tongue over your mustache or slicked it with
 your lip, there are all the flavors. The problem is,
 some of those flavors are more than a day old.


 ------------------------------


 Tax.
 Everyone
 leaving one liners
 heavily breathed about retirement
 pensions, equity funds, assets, held, sold,
 not yet sold. Here is where tax creeps along the
 bottom line at its most insideous diabolical level. Imagine
 yourself going into a super market to buy mixed nuts, plus a stash
 of an extra kind of nut, and a container of sunflower seeds for the
 chipmunks coming into your summer cabin every day. Here is the new
 millenium year 2001 the summer and here is what happened at the
 checkout counter of a large supermarket. The walnuts went
 straight through at the price as stated on the label,
 because there was no salt on the walnuts. The
 mixed nuts went through with all taxes
 added once because of the salt
 that was on the mixed
 nuts. The sunflower
 seeds went
 through
 at double
 tax because they
 were salted but the clerk
 could not explain why there was double
 tax except that this particular container of sunflower
 seeds was salted. Three days later, late in the evening, back at
 the cabin, - watch how the logic works - suddenly the little hop in
 the brain had it. The authorities had levelled only one tax on the
 mixed nuts - because they were salted - because it was impossible
 to tell which nuts had how much salt. The authorities leveled
 double tax on the sunflower seeds because they knew exactly
 what was salted, in this case full tax on the sunflower
 seeds, another full tax for the full price of the
 container on the salt itself, which included
 the original tax added to come to second
 full price for taxing. To put this
 in perspective, concider
 that the $3.99
 stated
 purchase
 price for
 the sunflower
 seeds overflowed
 $6.00 bucks after double
 taxes added. Am I wrong, am I
 totally brain dead, do I hear the
 butterly net toggling my way for even
 thinking something is wrong with this picture.
 To put an extra tax for a pimple on a brick because it
 is known that the pimple is on the brick is not second guessed
 imagination, seems to me to be the most backward anti-christ thinking
 an authority can have. To double tax the poor chipmunk's sunflower seeds
 seemed to me mental excesses far beyond anything a reasonably kind responsive
 god would ever want to happen for HIS flock. I believe the authorities
 who authorize such taxes to pin-head nit picking levels need to
 have their souls shaken and some time off to learn
 a little bit about the principles
 of spiritual humility.
 A good whipping
 and two days
 left out
 in the
 woods
 moaning
 should do it.
 So, you, an observer
 new on the planet, when lined up
 at the super store cashier exactly so much in
 pocket and watching the clock on the cash register winding
 up and up and up as something as mundane as sunflower seeds passes
 through the laser, be ready to call a halt to the madness and put
 the sunflower seeds aside when the clock winds beyond what you
 have on hand as cash. Groceries you can use, double taxed
 extras are something from an entirely different
 dimension not of this Universe. Yu gotta
 watch, these days, when cashing
 in at the cash register.
 Only the feds really
 know what the
 words 'cash
 register'
 really
 mean
 when
 calling
 on you to
 fork cash for
 federal exesses not
 even they the feds can be proud of.


 ----------------------------------------

 Oh
 and by the
 way, for good food
 purists, the reason why salt
 on the nuts cited above is salted were
 the only containers the super market had, probably,
 then, also, the supermarket got form of extra smalls
 per each extra tax added, to each sale, believe me I
 felt this was real as feeling all 12 toes making
 contact in a pair of worn out sandles.


 ----------------------------------------


 I made
 enemy from
 friend when the
 friend suggested we leave
 the hot tub and shave in the shower room.
 Blink. This was a supervisor of a major division in
 the RCMP. Age the late 30's the guy had talked sitting in the hot
 tub about his bachelor lifestyle and the big mistake putting gravel instead
 of tile around his 1/2 size olympic below ground fancy backyard swimming pool,
 'built for guests'. Turns out this police man thought nothing of standing
 in the searing shower slowly shaving doing homo eyeball to eyeball
 with another even though nothing outward could sexually
 possibly happen in physical because it is the
 public male shower room of a well known
 family public swimming pool. Me I
 declined the invite stating
 I had already shaved.
 Next time I saw
 said homo
 bromo he
 had
 nothing
 to say to me
 except glare and shortly
 after was enticing lifequards into
 trying to believe that I had tried to entice him
 into the shower room with little boys present. What homo
 bromos will do to cover their asses once exposed, at other people's
 expense. Society is filled with them. Many go under the lable Evil Empire.

 I just
 do the shave
 as fast as possible
 always alone, every so often
 the 30 second shave interrupted by a
 sudden dulling of a disposable plastic throw
 away 50 cent razor, and can get days even weeks of
 use from one razor from the ten pack bag of 50 cent
 plastic throwaways. That scene in the shower
 me 'n he shaving never happened
 except in his homo bromo
 back firing mind.


 ----------------------------------


 Talk about shaving.
 I met once he who took
 3/4 hours a day shaving. From
 beginning to end it began with a before
 astringent after the face wash, rinse, face wash, rinse,
 face wash no rinse then the astringent and after a moment after its
 skin rushes sensations had diminished, and rinse, on went the shaving lotion
 from a spicy nozzle applied as slowly as the astringents, to slightly sting,
 after that the preparation of the razor, one of four kinds to choose from
 today in the shaving kit. And so on. Three of us in a cabin at Rosario
 Beach on the Pacific Oceon on the Olympic Penninsula near
 Port Angeles on Puget Sound facing
 Vancouver Island and Victoria,
 we three urgently facing
 the shaver because
 we had to do our
 own shaves and
 there was
 only
 so much
 time left until
 breakfast was finished
 for a Science Symposium taking place
 that weekend put together by a major Canadian West
 Coast university. The addicted shaver, adonidously addicted
 to the sensations of shaving himself, was a young physics
 professor who had come as a lonely only child from
 a very rich family. This is true.
 He never spoke once while we
 three increasingly
 aggitated for
 access to
 the sink
 and
 mirror
 in the cabin,
 as 3/4 of an hour of
 our breakfast time with eggs
 and pancakes and real maple syrop
 pilfered away. By the time he finished,
 we were pretty noisy toward him. He never
 caught on, couldn't read the lurking dark looks
 seen from every angle out of the mirror the rest of
 us lined up for our turns standing behind the sink, day
 two, and then day three three days all the same we not moxie
 enough to figure a quick way around the conundrum for instance
 breakfast unshaven and smelling of yesterday's B.O. two of the
 standees University professers, and me. I was the keynote
 speaker for the science symposium that weekend so I
 have grounds for writing about this young
 physics professor, who loved himself
 so much he fell into a trance
 in slow motion in front of
 the mirror, whenever
 he entered that
 parallisis
 lifestyle,
 shaving.


 --------------------------------------------


 As I glide inevitably more and more
 into the geriatric event horizon
 I more and more think of what life
 might be like after I am a geezer.

 To know
 but not to know,
 to remember but only before forget,
 handling cusp problems, moving from here to
 there temporarily, then back to here for a day or two
 to finish consolidating, before moving there for an extended time -
 forget on the first return the three most important man made devices
 needed to continue the return successfully - what the hell is going
 on with this age, toes stuck up still imbedded into the past, other
 toes up and stuck into the immediately upcoming future and the
 rest of the toes wiggling in the air willy nilly not
 sure of what half of the Pisces/Aquarius
 cusp to plug into.


 --------------------------------------------


 Paper
 towels. There
 are so many kinds. I drove
 the long distance back into Renfrew to see
 if I could find the hardware store where I had bought
 a roll a month before. This was a roll that was blue it was
 not white it did not dissolve after one use only, it did not reek
 of chlorine it was blue and a piece is still in use a month
 later for its particular job. The girl who cashed
 up the blue roll after I found another supply
 in a Home Hardware was telling me the
 shop teacher in the high school
 goes ballistic when any
 student throws out
 a piece of the
 blue paper
 towel.
 One
 amongst
 many. Hear the
 blue paper towel is so
 far out front it is a wonder that
 almost everybody still uses white for all of
 the jobs that simply waste white rolls roll after roll
 after roll when one role of the blue available all this
 time will immediately end the waste of white for all
 time. Hands up time out fingers crossing palm,
 the blue is good, but white is still
 good for many uses. At the
 moment the house has
 blue on standby
 for mmany
 uses and
 the rest
 of the calls
 for paper towel
 are white. The point is,
 when blue is called for, there is
 nothing better, and it is cheap, dirt cheap.
 Wiping your brow of sweat day after day as the
 week slides by is one of best uses I know of
 for a single sheet of the blue paper towel.


 _______REGRESS_______


 Here is a
 dick held up in
 hand there is no nerve
 endings no severed arteries hanging
 from the core of it, it is just a Dick. It is
 not a real dick, no nerve endings or arteries hanging
 from it it is made of mud hacked into a kind of plastic and used
 by women to hit their G spots when all other frequencies fail and
 there is only left face and brain pointed straight into the
 aftermath of the rebellion, as the G spot begins to sing.

 Think of it. Dick. Do
 you get horny over it, does
 it feel real when it goes exploring.
 Is it enough for you to forsake your place in
 eternity when Andromeda gets evolved as a new Universe.
 That dick you are holding in your hand here, is it the fake, is
 it the manmade hardened plastic or glistening oiled glass which can have
 no fleshy tones when you feel your fingers flicking over it? Is it wonderous
 enough to plough into your wee wee and make astral psychic illusions about
 it happen. Imagine that plastic dick upstairs in heaven and someone
 somewhere still might want to use it. The moment she does back
 down here on Earth in hell she is and it will be some
 time before anyone else in heaven will want
 to see her up there again in heaven,
 waving a fake dick around
 claiming it means
 something
 more
 than
 puffing.
 Knowing that
 dick, what about that
 wick you are holding in your
 hand is it a stick to remember is it the
 most fantastic kick you have ever had in your mouth
 made by angels in paradise, as you have oft
 proclaimed, expecially when listing
 to FM radio.

 Try and picture
 the use of any dick in
 heaven, as being the same on Earth.
 Certain religions of the Earth seek to proclain the
 dick (or words thereof even religiously politically correct words)
 as god's greatest gift to humanity, and in doing so, live shorter, get
 old and decrepit looking sooner, have worst bad dreams and nightmares
 are commonplace, are riddled with uncertainties and seek ego
 regresses and degrees as ambitions to soften the huge
 gaping hole in the middle of their souls.

 Get the
 picture and how
 get it good - dicks and
 the holes they like when the going
 is tough, do not exist in Reality. Up here in
 'heaven' there are no dicks and honey pots in use by anyone.
 The use by any name of the fundamental bi-polar apparatus between human
 legs is, ever so often, upstairs, by beings made of light, used inducting
 enough new life force energies through the scorpio principle to bring
 into incarnation or sojourn another soul ready for volunteer
 services unquestioning wherever they happen to be
 brought in, by the pure and perfect
 Scorpio Principle.

 Dicks,
 in the other
 hand, most often only
 bring in souls still swooling below
 the thrown wondering if time will ever come when
 they can ever get out of this prison, that throne with the huge
 and massive and totally filled underchamber, does not exist in heaven,
 it only exists as an overplus in the aftermath of the rebellion. Scorpio
 Principle inductees upstairs, do not need to be steered by hand,
 the whole process of pro-creation is telepathic,
 and yet, telepathic beyond buzz,
 energies flow, new
 life forces
 induct, a
 new life level
 arrives wherever needed, that,
 in a single sentence peppered with commas,
 is a glimpse of how powerful the life force and induction
 of it, between harmonically interdimensionally innnerbeing unified
 coherent two telepathic beings, is in Reality upstairs, who know,
 or remember, how to use the Scorpio Principle and,
 it has nothing to do with Shakespear.


 _______MODERN SHAKESPEAR_______


 Lo Appertinance, hast though being loinworthy this very fortnight
 in forced power hour, when all men of young distinction in this hoary
 lorenight as one seek deliverence from their lifelong evil called virgin.

 Ho Pertinance, my loins have this night thrice sang in high frequency.

 So Apparel you she who did not put back the deliverence sheild when
 Pertinance the deliverer forth tack and push not cooled by the midnight
 oils of the rowling Moon, the elders howling in the ring, as the Moon
 enraged engaged set in calling forth goblins as shadows set in then
 dawnlight ending it all.

 Yo you council of lips this not the century of fits when the
 time comes lo the willing comely coming forth in the night dark
 sheilded by boughs of the Moon what made you she seek come to the
 tent occupied by Pertinance.

 Ho a question not asked even the ancients were unhere Ho answer I
 shall for seerer it is in my dignity and virtue so do I, that in those
 glades yonder beyond Beaver Dam I saw young Pertinence whacking his weed
 and wondered when the might of the Moon Full Prominance was upon us that
 this small wiggler is the only tool to enter me on this fateful day long
 night goblins engaged festival.

 Lo in wonder the thighs so many long faces did sigh upon it their
 deepest wishes for you going only to the render with the wiggle of
 such small stancinance.

 Ho it was this way thus the thrust that made me man went unwaisted in
 wet oven comfort. If it, had been, Dictator the King, so eager, walking
 around swatting flies, I am sure the blood maidens would have had to
 rush in finding more than a scream to do duty making their wipe clothes
 red.


 -------------------------------------------------


 There is no
 difference between
 murder and justice. The same
 for wisdom and justice, there is no difference.
 If you murder it is murder. If you murder for justice it is
 still murder. The only intervention is compassion, a person who is
 ruled by compassion cannot contemplate murder, knowing that
 murder is murder. For whatever reason,
 it is still murder.
 Do, not, ever,
 think of
 murder.
 State
 officials
 who stand and
 watch so crowded fears
 pressed tightly together so as
 not to miss a single twist or twitch
 along with the special quests spectators peering
 intently over shoulders from two rows back not even daring
 to blink less a link to the thrills of the execution is missed,
 are among the worst violators in a higher dimensions Reality way,
 along with the officials who sent the condemmed there for final
 justice. The person on the hotseat wired to the hydro dam
 for extra current was innocent, further, the soul
 was one of those sent to do special
 duty on the planet
 and now, because of the short
 circuit, all hailed in monotones in the
 name of god, the whole task of getting such a soul
 in place on the turbulent planet will have to be done all
 over again, because of a mistake in time and place, a witness
 paid to tell what the authorities wanted, an infrastructure
 doomed to make ungodly sums of money at everyone elses
 expense, and a thought structure allowed to rush
 obliteratingly when the switch is pulled,
 short circuited back upon the poor
 soul what got fingered by
 the loose black magic
 powers working in
 the background
 and upstairs
 everyone
 involved
 shaking their
 heads regretting the
 short circuit, planning already
 to try again this time with extra protections
 to do their utmost to try and work around the short circuits
 getting the soul inbound Earthbound the second time around.


 -------------------------------------------------


 Have you
 come to the problem with tooth glue yet.

 It used to be the pink stuff held for up to
 four hours then dissolving away in
 saliva. The problem is age.
 12 years old is
 too long
 for
 original
 partial plates
 made of chromium and
 intended to last only 6 months.

 Two years ago the lower
 began to float loose and things
 like seseme seeds and peanut butter grits
 were the worse, chomping down, feeling point source
 poings of pain. Worse if a whole floatilla got under suddenly
 even having to rinse it and your mouth before starting over, pissed off.
 The upper started floating free about six months later at the most
 miswanted times eating a swank slice of pizza. Then when
 eating anything. The most heavily advertised tooth
 glue was pink and didn't hold anything
 together for more than
 a couple of hours.
 Another pink, not
 advertised, did fine
 for four or so hours, usually
 half that time for the lower so caution
 came into the line mix so the tangs wouldn't suddenly
 migrate gripping into the soft tissue on the inside of your mouth.

 Recently, when going to replace the two year now empty tube of
 pink, a new one was spotted, guaranteed super new and a kind of
 super glue for fatigued victims who had been using the other.
 It is different, off-white and semi-transparent just a small
 dab will do you, not like the former whose residues after
 applying big gobs took half an hour to rinse away.
 The new glue has residues but it is gone fast
 because such a small lush'l do you.

 Here is where the fun starts.
 The super glue is so good it takes
 work not by seconds but minutes to clear
 the remaining glue when it comes time to soak
 overnight. Here is how it works, a kind of yin yang
 physics. On metal the glue sticks to it and has to be
 rubbed away bit by bit with a dry piece of paper towel,
 it has to be that because ordinary rolled paper for
 country grunts just dissolves without wiping.
 So, a minute perhaps two passes intently
 working the towel to get the last
 bits of glue pulled on
 breakaway. A
 backup
 in the soak
 jar most of the
 time is plastic, for
 cosmetic use only when smiling
 into a video camera or telephoto lens.
 Being in public with people around, such as a
 restuarant or business meeting, too provides use for
 the nice smile. On it, the glue immediately detaches from the
 plastic when the gleamers are tugged out, and so there is about ten
 minutes, I exaggerate it's up to fifteen minutes, using every wily wit
 possible trying to get the glue off the roof of your mouth. This takes
 place on many nights so now the former flowing non-stop motion
 in lifetyle is stopped in its tracks at wipe time.

 So you, if you have just landed here, dental floss reguarly, say
 twice a week at least. The water problems here are so out of wack
 in terms of your best PH factors that decay can spring up fast leading
 inevitably over time to a turn to the glue. Do everything you can to
 forestall the inevitable, even going through life without needing
 glue at all, it can be done and this planet makes it almost
 impossible to do it, so, if you want a project for life,
 keep watering the garden in you mouth enouph
 that you won't have to on that fatefull
 day, turn up the isle in the super
 market to cruise the glues,
 the time it takes to
 find the right
 tube is
 better
 well spent
 flossing regularly
 and using what spare petty
 cash you have gracing the dentist's
 balance sheets, it, is, well worth the effort, to
 avoid the glues you need for your teeth if you are careless
 if you are an observer on this small planet and ignore the water problems.

 As for
 risks using
 the tooth glue, I have
 more than once woke up finding myself
 standing in front of the bathroom sink toothbrush in
 hand the tube of toothglue in the other hand cap off ready to
 brush my teeth with the toothglue when getting ready to head out
 the door in a rush. Fortunately I have not yet had the sheer
 ersatz of rubbing my mouth full of nearly irremovable
 glue, but, someday, haste too much, just might.


 _______TODAY'S LUNCH IS CRABS_______


 Hey
 you on the
 planet, you concider
 yourself hoy paloy, the boy who
 scores so better with gruppies and hard makeups,
 have you ever sat for an hour and a half waiting in the VD
 clinic. Wait till you get THIS experience, entirely from carelessness.
 A nice enouph looking gal, her early twenties, recently released from the
 psycho wards, had me, on a foam rubber mattress on my knees in the basement
 of an ecology house inspecting the crack as she'd asked to see if I saw
 anything unusual. I didn't, so the usual consequence of two
 of us alone for the night took place. The next day
 she was gone. By day three I was aware that the
 rash in the key organs area was not just
 a one day irritation. Scratch scratch
 scratch a close look hooped in the
 oris boris position disclosed
 that scabs were exactly
 what the itch was,
 at its worse.
 except,
 they move.

 This person
 pointing a long
 forefinger to the left
 stating that's where the clinic is.
 That person pointed a short finger to the left
 saying this's where you go. All requests for input about the
 rash resulted in the same end, fingers pointing to the free VD clinic
 which was upstream to the left at the University Hospital. So there I was
 sitting in the waiting room, quiet faced, many I recognized from here and
 there around the scene, one in particular the male inheritor of a large
 multi million dollar industrialist's estate sitting there in denims
 and canvas with long hair trying to look demure and invisible,
 hello Pal said I, yu said he is all he said, clearly pissed
 off and distressed. After an hour and a half it was my
 turn into the room with the horizontal high table
 exactly like tables reported in alien abductions.
 The doc, a tall thin 6+ footer much taller than
 me with strange swimmy eyes looking exactly
 like Aurthor C. Clark in his younger days
 talking politically about homosexuality
 had me drop my drawers and undies and
 on the table probed the rash with
 a long thin rod then a pair of
 tweezers. Under the mike
 roscope went a piece
 of rash tweezed from
 my bush and 'gees, there
 it is, come have a look', said the
 doctor in the VD clinic. I did, saw a crab
 exactly like the crabs used in astrology signs no
 different whatsoever the very name well chosen for several
 different reasons. I looked down to my bush, to one of the rashes,
 touched it, the fucken thing disappeared, sleased right into hidding in a
 cavity it had evactuated in one of my bush pores for a home. Holy smoke
 all of the rash was able to move, each scab at a touch! The mystery
 of the itching rash was solved, this is one heckofa case of
 infestation must of been all mature adults the doc said,
 the 'crab' under the microscope was so big it filled
 the whole viewscreen and was wiggling, this, said
 the doc pointing to the scope, is almost
 ready to have kids, he reported
 in a deadpan matter-of-
 fact clinical way.
 The perscription
 was for the
 famed 'blue
 ointment' a
 conconction I had
 long heard about but had
 never seen. Being the first on the
 block to purchase blue ointment I was a bit
 famous for a brief period telling the story of the rash
 that turned out to be mobile. Crabs are crabs, if you have ever
 had them you will know exactly what I mean. Fortunately the
 blue ointment did the job in seconds flat, well, actually,
 about three days for the rash to start fading and the
 itch begon. Believe me no archangels in heaven
 are going to clue you up in advance before
 parachuting to Earth in a volunteer
 incarnation about the existence
 of 'crabs'. If you get them,
 it is only by your own
 extreme carelessness.
 On the plus side,
 there is hardly
 any other VD
 besides 'crabs'
 easier to cure
 than a smear of blue
 ointment on the rash in the
 bush and presto, the living scabs which
 move around mapping into your pores from which issue
 the stiff and crinklies the instant you touch one, are gone.
 Makes you wonder how an entire life form can exist babe to geriatric
 in the pores of your bush. How can a lifeform get the entire of its
 nutriants from the stiffies which festoon your wee wee. Is some
 lesser god having a really diabollical laugh over the thing
 to plague humankind they have created. If you believe
 that locus plagues spring from the off frequencies
 of a miscreant concsiousness effecting a large
 block of people you can understand how
 crabs come only from the
 frequencies of
 lesser carnal thought.
 Biblical hard thinkers warned
 of plagues toward the end times and it
 seems sure enough that 'crab's are one of them.


 _______HOW TO JUDGE YOUR SOUL_______


 Hey have you ever been in this situation...
 I'm not a killer
 I didn't mean to squirt the
 hidden butterfly with the garden hose, whinnnnne


 _______HOW ABOUT DOGS_______


 There is reports
 that wolves are telepathic.
 This though this may be, dogs, their
 cousins are consciousness enough to constitute
 beings in the greater scheme of things. Witness pleasant
 Luke, a Bijingi so true to form Luke did not bark not one growl
 no bark Luke was a soundless dog. But love Luke this is a dog who
 got left behind in Stanley Park when it was time to leave
 the picnic and no Luke anywhere, regretfully but not
 dismayed they left the park and sure enough
 two days later eight miles away there
 is Luke strutting in the front
 door as pleased by the wide
 dog grin as if Luke had
 never been left behind
 in a park file miles
 across town. One day
 Luke comes to me urgently
 looking and I get the message
 something is up Luke and me we head out
 the front door Luke leading but not fast enough that
 I can't follow. We head down the slopes two blocks into a large
 vacant field where something has worn a circle in the middle of the
 weeds and grass, just like a path except this one is a circle. There in
 the circle are twelve dogs of every description walking nose to tail in
 a slow motion circle around the circle each dog perfectly in place in
 a continuous string and since so many breeds and mongrels I simply
 cannot report as to kind or size except no miniature Mexican
 Chawawas were in this dog circle. Luke and I stood
 at the edge of the circle me in awe watching
 the dogs solomely pass orbiting the
 marked out ring in the tall
 grass. I have no way of
 interpreting this. Is
 this a ring pagans
 use at midnight
 to screech
 thoughts
 to the moon.
 Is this a ring
 left behind by a UFO
 staging a secret visit. Is
 this a ring magicians use to transform
 homely women into cats for a few hours, I do not
 know all I know is Luke came and got me and took me to it
 and there I stood mid afternoon long hair blowing in the slight breezes
 wondering what it is we humans do not know yet about dogs when 12 are
 silently solomely parading around in a circle in the middle of a
 field around a path either made intended by dogs, or humans,
 I did not know and never saw dogs again going around
 in the circle they made of themselves, nose to
 tail, silently. The other side of dogs
 came into notice the very next day,
 Luke and me cruising the nearby
 main street me on the way to
 the butcher shop to see
 if there were any
 bones for Luke
 and out of
 nowhere
 strikes
 a much larger
 dog seeming part german
 sheppard no warning no sound no bark
 or growl the biggie struck straight at Luke's nuts gottem
 one bite big noise the dog driven off by me Luke sitting squat on
 the pavement not moving an inch I finally got the message and opened my arms
 in welcome Luke sailed straight up into them in one silent gliding motion
 as if teleporting and I carried Luke the mile home as carefully and
 gently as I could, for days after Luke spent little but lie on
 the floor and raise a leg to lick the balls once again I do
 not know if the dogbite had got Luke beyond the point of
 ever having puppies but I do know that the day after
 the circle of 12 dogs Luke nearly lost his jollies
 to another kind of dog that struck once, struck
 fast, struck straight to the target, Luke's
 nuts. On all scales Luke was one of the
 most conscious dogs I ever knew. He
 an me, (Luke and I) used to like
 heading down to the hippy
 district, hitchhiking,
 any one stopping
 knowing there
 was going
 to be me and
 Luke leaping into the
 car. So here we are at the big table
 at the hippy coffee house, a hippy, girl, guy, girl,
 girl, guy, Luke, girl, me, guy, guy, girl, all sitting upright
 around the long table drinking coffee and eating niblets shriek a hippy
 girl thinks she is having an lsd hallucination but it is not that it is
 Luke who is sitting totally upright squeezed between two humans on
 the bench at the table along with the humans, nibbling snacks at
 exactly the same pace as all of us humans at that table.
 Talk about well integrated, Luke fit right in and
 was even able, for a few minutes, to pass
 himself off as a human until the poor
 semi stoned hippy girl saw fur.

 Luke had class, a hippy house
 we all lived in back then
 little or no money the
 common status the
 cat had kittens.
 This created
 a problem
 because
 there
 was
 little
 no money
 for extra food so
 anything that could be passed
 onto the cat, was. One day however even
 the most careful scrape did not come up with much
 food except for a small plate put down on the kitchen floor
 for Luke. As Luke stood studying the plate of strange macro biotic
 orange carrots and brown rice the scrawny cat started creeping straight
 toward the plate legs flattened to the floor, moving. It did not take
 long for inevitables to happen, as the cat approached the edge of
 the plate Luke took one small nibble, then one more, then
 nudged the plate straight to the cat the lip
 of the plate coming to a stop under the
 cat's chin. Luke stood back and
 watched as the cat downed
 the whole thing, then
 with a strong
 meweow directed
 at Luke took off for
 the stash of kittens. The
 thing that was so awing about this
 interspecies sharing is that food had been
 a touch spot for several days it was mostly brown
 rice and soybeans at that time a few carrots and nothing
 else so Luke had been getting a soft touch in the way of dog's
 food practically none and we all knew Luke was temporarily
 hungry like the rest of us. Now 15 years later something
 similar happened again, a tabby cat in the next door
 condo had kittens and was not getting enough
 because she was coming into my place
 several times a day prowling
 around for whatever she
 could coax or find.
 Quasar - a part
 Bijinge who
 barked -
 always aware
 of the cat prowling,
 kept a wary eye only on his
 Gains Burgers which Quasar typically
 nibbled off and on rather than downing the
 whole thing in one gulp. One day some money had
 come in, meaning a pizza blowout, two giant large with
 extra cheese and more toppings. Quasar's share was cut into
 small squares on a plate on the living room floor, because Quasar
 would not tackle a whole slice unless it was cut into the right
 size chunks. As Quasar did one chunk of pizza, then another,
 in came the tabby through the door on a slow slink
 toward the plate. Oohoo thought I a bit
 alarmed since Quasar and the tabby
 you could not say were the best
 of friends, she always waved
 a broom rake made of claws
 whenever she wanted to
 move Quasar out of
 the way. She
 came over ever
 so slowly toward the
 edge of the plate, a motion
 of Quasar's snout so slight to be hardly
 seen, wait a minute, a chunk of pizza had just
 glided across the plate to the opposite side where the
 cat looking like Garfield ears straight forward was coming to a
 stop. The moment the first chunk of pizza went down the cat a
 second came skidding to a stop from across the plate where
 Quasar had just again used his nose. The cat had three
 chunks which seemed enough and departed very much
 in business to get back to the basketful
 next door, Quasar finishing off the
 last chunks left and that is how
 Quasar helped feed the kittens.
 Please note dogs like this
 had never been ordered,
 commanded, demanded
 to obey, hit with
 a roll of newspaper
 or on the snout, not a single
 act of hostility or harm had ever been directed
 to either dog. Luke was before the era of leashes. Quasar
 was in the early days of leash-em-up but had not ever been on the
 rope until about 8 years old when others at the condo complex
 began wondering why Quasar was not noosed when their dogs
 were at all times. It was a question of complying
 with the bylaw, a warning, then a fine, then
 another, then extreme threat of $3,500
 and or a half year in jail resulted
 in the rope. On day one whenever
 Quasar wanted to go out on
 calls I paused him
 and on went the 48
 foot rope around his neck.
 On day two it was completely
 different me in the chair watching
 TV suddenly there is Quasar standing in front
 of me the rope dangling from his teeth, thereafter whenever
 Quasar wanted to go out the open patio door to the great nearby beyond
 he would go outside get the rope first and bring it to me, the rope more
 than long enough for Quasar to get out to the great cedar trees
 beyond the missing gate to check out the overnight
 rainshower of new calling cards left by dogs
 whizzing by. The rope worked just fine, as
 long as Quasar was happy. The plain fact
 is this dog's neck was just too thick.
 Head down, one paw on the rope and
 Quasar was trotting away free
 whenever this thinker wanted
 to tag onto another dog or
 one of the nearby humans
 who was one of his many
 friends. Then, believe
 it or not in he would
 come carrying the
 rope so I could
 slip it over
 his neck
 again.
 Back out
 he would go
 playing the rope
 to its 48 foot end then soon
 enough back in for nap time, the rope lying out in the yard.


 _______HOW COME YOU ARE DRIVING YOUR CAR STEERING BACKWARDS_______


 Psssst
 hey you, new on the planet,
 have you noticed how much mental vigor it takes
 just to drive your car up the street and around the corner.
 Forget about the freeways expecially during rush hour, every split
 second in that high speed frenzy counts. But, look, to the local
 slow turkey speeds tooling around the neighborhood and to
 the super market. Do you give leeway today at all
 times to a bus. How about taxis. There is the
 question about real big rigs and those
 even bigger now do you give them
 a chance if everyone comes
 out better by the offer.
 The whole of the
 driving of
 a car
 is one
 monumental
 excercise with
 life forever the first
 and foremost thought doing everything
 it takes not to cause an accident. Second is giving due
 right of way to those most doing public service, such as buses. A
 few seconds hiccuping on the gas pedal can not add for you nearly so
 much as adding together all the points gained by giving an old
 person the right of way in front of you. Concider a world
 wide population now totally dominated by these four
 wheeled vehicles called motor. Every walk of
 life even gender even the cursed IQ is
 involved in the moving of cars en
 mass from one point to another
 world wide. The only
 way this has
 possibly
 worked
 is drivers
 giving thought to
 getting their cars about without
 trashing something. Here you have, on the surface of
 the planet, one plane in the lower 24 of the 4th dimensional brainstorm
 in which all minds have agreed - that everyone is self dedicated to getting
 there in one piece then getting the vehicle back home intact. You
 already must know the hand signs - the peace symbol thanking
 someone for letting you through a traffic jangle.
 The shrug of the shoulder and open hand up
 appologizing for a stupid mistake
 you made when driving the
 stupid parking lot.
 The haste at
 which you
 pull
 over
 to
 offer
 instant
 help when
 there has been
 a crumple almost to the
 second before you arrive.  Give
 some ponder to the concept of cars, and
 everything else collected under 'mobile' including
 buses and transports, if this was not a planet in which every
 one can agree under 'like minds' demonstrating Christ Principles
 which exist in every way in Reality, it would be impossible
 to back your car out of the driveway let alone
 taking off up the street under gush of
 acceleration. If each and every
 driver fought their own
 ends to everyone
 else's expense
 it would be
 impossible
 to drive
 your car
 to work
 or the
 supermarket
 let alone taking
 it to poor countries to
 drive the backroads. Now, if only
 all those drivers would also dissolve their
 inner demon egos in one determined effort in thought,
 what a great second step this would be toward re-establishing
 Christ Energy Principles in full roar opening the door for
 this planet to be welcomed back into the galaxy in
 a rush. You, being so familiar with them
 before the incarnation, have
 obviously had thoughts
 over the years since
 your birth, of UFO.
 Try galactic class
 ionnic inter dimensional
 starships for starters. Imagine being
 a passenger in one, hurting today to some place
 in Orion, tomorrow to someplace near the center of the galaxy.
 It can happen. All it will take is for the planetary sad to let
 go of their illusions and delusions and to wake up
 to see what is happening all around the
 360 degree window nearest you
 today, in fact, not
 outside its
 within.


 _______AUTO BIOGRAPHY HINDSIGHTS_______


 So
 there was he
 in the prime of his
 early 50's (not me) something
 came up and a really weird interlude
 persued. First the historic mini short story.
 Being the manager of a psychedelic band in the late 60's
 he was where when the band played the famed auditorium of a local
 small city. Everything evolved, the packed hippies writhing to music
 suddenly in came punching their way to the stage the gang of local roots
 behoving it to believe that because some of the town officials did not
 see eye to eye with psychedelics and hippy, it could only mean it
 was lunch time to punch out as many band noses as possible.
 They made it to the stage, swinging, in the meely the
 drummer got popped, the bass player got poppped,
 the manager had his nose flattened by one
 hard punch from a thug running sideways.
 The local police did nothing in the
 way of action because, of course,
 this was psychedelic, and hippy.
 25 years later the manager now a
 well advanced middle ager makes his
 way to a nose doctor who knows how to ram
 the piece in the other direction to free the blocked
 nostril. It worked. But, the doc advises, dire warnings, get triple
 strength pain killer because this is going to hurt like hell when the freezing
 comes out. Dutifuly the ex-manager drops by Drugs Plus For Us for Triple Strenth
 Tyanol and holds off, holds off, then finally pops one, it really hurts.
 The next day when the signal came for the daily country grunt down
 he sat, then stood up after a while just a bit puzzled why
 there had been no splash. Another sitting. Later, another.
 That whole day the same thing, grunt, urge, no lump.
 The day after the same thing, in the morning,
 then right early in the afternoon, then
 at sunset, the sitdown, the push the
 grimace, but no country grunt.
 On day three, half way
 through the day he
 calls his young
 friend, also
 his doctor
 and asked
 if there
 is any
 reason
 why he
 should
 not be
 exploding
 turds into the
 toilet bowl at the usual
 velocity for 3 days, its bin... more'n...
 three an a half days and I'm telling you doc I'm
 beginning to worry, the push is there the mighty heaving
 urge but nothing comes out the pipe. Hmmmm, says the doctor on
 the telephone, hmmmmmm, have you been taking Tyanol lately, expecially
 Triple Strength!. Well, quess what, says the surprised ex-manager, appreciating
 the smarts of this young healer more than ever. The fact is Tyanol Triple
 Strength completely paralyzes the muscles of the sphincture, nothing
 can pass, says the Doc - because he had been through this exact
 scene so many times before. And that is why the busy
 ex-manager, hang gliding inexorably into
 geriatics and suddenly concerned
 about something,
 realizes the
 whole short
 story in
 a single
 instant
 flash, is
 why the country
 grunts had led so many
 times straight to the toilet bowl
 but not one single tiny lish of a splish
 had disturbed the water the whole time since he had
 had his nose fixed. So, if you being new to the planet, here
 is another one - the above short story - to add to your list of
 cautions want to stay alive here - the pharmacuticals and major
 drug companies don't care a fuck what happens to you when
 using their products, the only thing they concider
 is if you are intelligent enough to
 know the consequences.


 _______THE BARK_______


 Poor Melinda Rubberleakie
 got stuck with a wad of zoo
 more goo than she bargained for
 in ten dollar transaction her half
 of the wine already paid for the romantic
 dinner party turned to a big event at the doctors
 office spouting how lucky she was cause one of the little
 wrigglers made it but how to joy a new birth when the current one
 was running so shaky, not enough care and attention to dissolving those
 old emotions that can pollute newcomers hardly before they know they
 have arrived on the planet. When push comes to shove under the
 fake name called love, staggerers like Melinda get more
 and more tucked under the hem below the good parts
 of the 4th dimension. They do not know any
 more that it is all in thought, how
 the will can subdue the desire
 so that pure desire can
 come into perfect
 balance with
 will where
 no carnal
 dance is
 ever going
 to take place
 anymore since no carnal
 exists in the one huge set of dimensions called Reality.


 _______MIGHTY MAW - EXPLORING NEW VENUES OF ADVERTISING_______


 Is your toilet bowl too small for YOU.
 Its time to turn to Mighty Maw a bowl so giant
 even your mightiest gourds hit at full velocity
 without splashing water onto the bathroom floor.
 When you KNOW its time to change call this
 toll free number now. Have your
 credit card number ready.

 'Have your credit card number ready' was a flash across the bottom of
 the screen during the whole promo. The whole promo got repeated again
 seconds later over again, the same ad, then the Mighty Maw promo again,
 four times it came up before the sequence of ads ended resuming the
 science report program. The toilet bowl was very repeat  v e r r r y
 close to an ad that actually ran that day, that week, nearly a month
 the same ad ran. At this point I do not know what is more important -
 the velocity of my turds, or the frequency. Just know that the ad was
 for a laxative and a beckonning toilet bowl was prominantly featured.
 I secretly believed the company was the same also advertising the
 opposite, are you running on call all too frequently, then toughen
 up, with our new product garanteed not to upset sensitive stomachs,
 you know the kind of ad, it comes up right in your face when eating
 something rishy like a stale slice of pizza and the flavour
 changes right in your mouth as you eat. Trouble is, certain
 kinds of people make a lot of money with these kinds of ads
 and players upstairs in Reality wish the malpractice would stop,
 because the astral psychic impositions do cause problems.

 For instance ....

 Help, for an observer on a small planet. Please send advice. Do I need
 my credit card number ready each time TV demands. Do I really need to
 see docs about the velocity of my turds. I always thought my velocity
 was normal, not sure now, sure its a gain in personal insights when ads
 turn toward the prior unthought of, distractions getting in the way of
 rapidly trying to discover what is new in the 21st century. Of course,
 if you really are an observer on this small planet, you won't be worried
 about velocity, only the frequency, now and then it comes up in daily
 thinking, then, a barrage of ads for every kind of treatment you can
 imagine costing money, except for good old fashion prune juice, the
 cheapest treatment you can buy and guaranteed to accelarate the
 velocity as well as improve the moves. Just helpfully hinting. If
 you have your credit card number ready, put it away back in the
 wallet slot and head for the local corner store. Prune juice is
 the best advice anyone ever had and, its almost for free, not
 quite, but almost free. No prescription necessary.

 Ewueee says the little kid - it smells just like a woman's purse.
 Wohhh says another little kid nose wrinkled, it smells just like
 a mans' wallet. Both are home alone, smelling the latest high sellers
 in big dollar products filling their folks dresser tables, the very stuff
 the grown folks wear when going to cocktail parties where the president
 is present. Creating good impressions, wearing the most expensive stuff.
 Whoeee it smells just like the dog and all the little kids laugh because
 this stuff is new, market targeted to humans who like dogs but can't
 rub two lumps of IQ together when TV demands 'have your credit card
 ready' - they do.

 What is that
 almighty thump I just
 heard hitting the new Mighty Maw
 toilet bowl, no one told me it doesn't have water.
 Something besides water causes the flush, but, you know,
 that suspicious electronic hum keeps getting in the way of peace
 of mind, every time I sit. Kinda wonder what electronic smog
 is doing to the lower half, especially when the hum
 gets so LOUD when hitting the 'process' button
 instead of where a flusher used to be.
 That weird peculiar ultra violet
 glow that comes on intensely
 brightening up the bathroom
 after the 'process'
 button, has me
 suspicious
 too. Do I
 really not have
 to worry about UV rays and
 skin cancer as the instruction sheet
 says or is that red rash getting sore on my
 bottom really just a period of time getting used
 to the new toilet. Adjustment period may be necessary,
 the instructions say. If prolongued applications of
 the included lotion do not end the rash consult a
 physician, the intructions say. Meanwhile I
 do not know what to do the hum has
 stopped and the UV glow is twice
 as bright. All, this, because
 I believed the promo
 ad on TV and
 wanted something
 new and conversation
 causing for my brand new
 red brick mansion, built under
 the hydro transission wires. If you
 really are an observer on a small planet
 likely you will not ever have to read the 'helping
 hints' in this above paragraph. Remember, it is YOU who
 has to learn how to live till old age on this very strange
 small planet, as an observer trying to get by day to day.
 For instance the idiot who installed one under the
 hydro wires in the red brick mansion is still
 bogged down in 'coliform' counts testing
 kits and 'e' colin bacteria signals
 contained in long literatures in
 the daily test manual for
 the toilet. Like I
 want to say,
 modern
 thinking
 does not always
 an upward path take and
 modern engineers oft take everything
 but miraculous directions when trying to justify
 their degrees in the workplace.


 _______WIPE THAT FOOLISH GRIN_______


 Don't get me wrong
 where you may notice that
 some of my writing seems to lean
 toward anal content. It is only that some
 of the stories, and some of the contents, are funny
 at anal expense, something about the human condition I suppose.
 A really funny for instance is a daily newspaper cartoon. If you have
 not already seen it, look to the cartoon page under Sherman's Lagoon in
 the Wednesday, May 30, 2001 edition of the Ottawa Citizen, we know
 it is there, assume the cartoon was published in other daily
 newspapers the same day, I can only say that I had been
 tipped off about it before reading the cartoon page
 and so read Lagoon first, and chuckled for about
 ten minutes I do not know the exact minutes
 all I know is chuckle chuckle chuckle,
 as the minutes passed.


 Stark Overplus - 2001


 _______HAIR TODAY, GONE TOMORROW_______


 Hey
 you on the
 planet you billions
 and more running around teeming
 with desparates about your failing hair.
 Witness a few short stories, and what you can do
 to forestall the inevitable. Quit fooling around with your
 hair by giant ads that tell you do it. Money has no object the drain
 is larger than a force 6 hurricane. Use Triune sense. Well, since there
 are only three who can be a Triune Being on a planet at any time, think
 instead of a Christed Being - this is one whose inner lights are turned
 back on enough to be at least partially plugged back into Reality.
 Christed Beings include those who have hung their cocks out
 to dry on the clothes line and have cinched their
 cunts with zippers so that nothing can get
 through neither a hose nor a hotdog
 from those still eager whippers
 not yet drying out on
 the clothes line.

 Gone
 today, hair
 tomorrow, transplants are
 the answer for you, strand by stand, plug
 by plug and before you know it, after several thousand
 dollars, you will have hair again, at least, enough hair to
 frond atop your forehead with a scratchy comb. Which brings to
 mind a source of the problem in the first place. Combs are
 heat pressed in hot plastics tiny excesses squeezing
 out the ends of each tuning fork in the comb
 these mini knives slice and cut into your
 hair follicles each time you comb,
 causing infections, dandruff,
 fallout. Simply fuse the
 teeth of a comb with
 a match to round
 the tooth ends,
 when you can
 run your
 comb
 over the
 back of your hand
 without causing bleeding, you
 know you have successfully fused the teeth
 of your comb and lo and behold what do you think will
 happen to the daily dismaying fallout. Why, it will stop, of course.


 _______SPEAKING ABOUT HEALTHY LIVING
        FOR A MORE COMFORTABLE LIFESTYLE_______


 A large bright terry cloth towel with a hole cut in the center makes one of
 the best all-around wearers you can have. You need to pin the sides
 together with large safety pins or sew on large buttons.
 First advange is you can walk around getting
 lots of vitamin D from Sun exposure
 without being stewed by
 Ultra Violet.
 Second
 is how the
 garb breaths. When
 super hot and sweaty the moisture
 absorbs from the inside, evaporates on the outside
 turning the fibers cool leaving you feeling much more comfortable
 than being naked in Ethiopia. Third, the opposite happens, when where you
 are is cool and very warm heat from you smooses into the fibres firing
 up the cells which glow back keeping you feeling roasty, the heat,
 hardly travelling beyond to radiate away on the other side of
 the fibers, stays where it is most needed, loving your
 skin, nice roasty toasty comfort. Fourth, being
 large and loose hanging draping from the
 shoulders, the garment is very
 accomodating you do
 any kind of
 work it
 is there for
 you no shuttling of sleeves
 to give you reach, or tucking in flaps every
 few minutes to remake your appearance. All this with terry
 cloth you can turn into a winner with a pair of scissars in hardly
 more than a minute. So, if you are a visitor on this planet
 and have not yet scoped all the visibles, you can detatch
 yourself instantly from the cloths you wear from the
 world's most misinformed designers now standards
 for all men and women to wear and step into
 something that adjusts instantly to
 anywhere you are except
 when snow comes.

 And, a large terry cloth towel is far cheaper than a diabollically
 uncomfortable form fitting shirt with some dip's name sewed on it.

 Tight fitting collars are doing in red necked men faster than you
 can image. Those neckties cinched up around red faces are real chokers
 blocking the flows of amenoes and fluids up and down your neck and right
 into your brain, the harder the collar the more perfectly knotted the
 tie the more the hornblowers of how you should look approve but in
 doing so are sentencing you to an early death unless you have
 enough sense to wear a bigger collar, loosen your tie.
 Believe me, death is nowhere as important as having
 the courage to ignore those who insist your ties
 have to be the tightest fits in all officedom
 downtown, where tight tie garb (university
 cum lauda and secret society colors
 comes to mind) is claimed
 manditory for success
 at the expense of
 a nice long life,
 of course, observers
 on a small planet are not
 drawn to titles by display of ties
 and framed certificates, observers tend to
 run wild, so to speak, free of neckties, free of
 tight fitting pants, free of bandersnatch braziers
 and girdles, free from nonesense that pollutes
 longevity from regressed peoples minds.


 -------------------------------------------------


 What time did you say it is.
 You have spent your days sound asleep
 instead of helping to ressurrect the planet?
 Heaven on Earth is already happening except all of
 those who know this heaven are spending most of their time
 dodging bullets and other police state pitfalls. Most of
 the plotters causing this mess do not know they
 are visitors to a small planet. Sound
 asleep when walking around
 competing your
 daily missions
 you do not realize
 the obvious either, even
 when heaven-here others try to poke
 holes through your eyelids to your eyeballs by
 trying to adjust the frequencies in your consciousness.

 The word 'you'
 used here throughout
 is impersonal, it means everybody.
 It implies a personal detach addressing the
 'you' but actually I'm a you too refecting back
 to you the entire community including me
 in a way no different than a member
 of a giant world-wide family
 speaking to another
 part of the
 one and
 only
 family
 that graces
 yet grazes and razes
 planets like this with so much
 anti-nice reversed will and desire.


 _______WHEN A GROUNDHOG MOVED INTO THE HOUSE_______


 Groundhogs
 are Woodchucks.
 It helps to know this to
 be able to tell the difference between
 the two, species, both are the same. Those groundhogs
 you see all along the freeways two feet from their burrows are the
 same Woodchucks you see in the woods two feet from their burrows.
 Unlike rats, groundhogs especially the women seem to like you
 liking their kids. Here it is one sunny Saturday afternoon
 in Ottawa South, college students both male and female
 flagging drivers in for a $2.00 car wash by soap
 bucket rubber sponges and garden hose on
 a self serve gas station's lot, me
 flagged in had minutes with
 nothing to do and explored
 the lot bordered by a
 folliage of woods.
 There down in
 the drop
 10 feet
 from where
 I stood at the
 forest end of the lot
 was a groundhog looking up at
 me not moving not racing away not diving
 into the burrow just a few feet away just sitting
 there low to the ground looking up at me. About five minutes
 later back I came to see if the groundhog was still there there were
 three kits out and about running and frolicing around Momma who just sat
 there near the burrow in the woods watching me watch the kids, momma
 was showing off the kids because momma saw something in my vibes
 and aura that made me extremely friendly. I learned on
 that instant that the big dull brown Woodchuck
 varieties are female. You see, I didn't
 know until that moment which were
 female, which were males. I
 had seen the two kinds,
 one kind smaller a
 lighter tan to
 the colored
 fur the
 other
 larger
 fatter and
 dull brown fur only.
 How I knew the two kinds is out
 my back door on Mitch Owen Rd in Greely a short
 distance south of Ottawa I had watched a bright brown/tan
 version climb a small tree all the way up to the middle branches in
 seconds flat the bigger more dull version of groundhog also there not
 able to climb more than the first tree branches before falling off.
 It was the seasonal annual mating ritual but at this point
 I did not know which was male, which female, except
 that I had learned, in one brillient moment of
 epiphany, that groundhogs can climb trees
 as fast as squirrels. Which explains
 why the white flowers on the vine
 tangling up the giant shade
 tree against the back
 of the yard kept
 getting eaten
 every day.
 Because
 groundhogs
 love eating flowers
 if you have ever had one in your
 garden. In my recent place in East Ottawa
 looking out the patio door I saw a tall stalk of
 bright mauve flowers disappear, then another, then another,
 silently eerily, one after another the flowers disappeared. Ergo,
 groundhogs have paws like Racoons and can grip things like flower stalks.
 My neighbor two doors over was telling me he had found the groundhog's
 hovel, under his tool shed, and was taking measures to ensure the
 groundhog never mauraded his garden again. Wait, what do you
 mean, the humane trap, the drive out to the country, no,
 he said, poison. I couldn't reason with him, there
 was no arguing, that was the last I saw of the
 groundhog, it was interesting one day
 up on all four legs trotting
 between my house on long
 thin legs like a fox. The
 neighbor who used poison had come
 from a french family of 14 kids in a 2
 bedroom low income apartment. 14 Kids said I, how
 many made it. Four he said, including himself, the rest
 were writeoffs. He himself had become the financial controller
 of Canada's fastest growing company for a couple of years importing
 top of the line Japanese lap top computers into Canada and the United
 States under another brand name during a time when the Japanese
 company's products were not allowed into North America due
 to nuclear power violations taking place in a third world
 country using the Japanese company's technology to run
 the nuclear reactors in ways the world body of over
 seers did not see fit for safe nuclear. So much
 for that groundhog in east Ottawa who loved
 swiss chard I put out for it free from
 the wilted bin of a nearby Loblaws
 super market, the swiss chard
 lover left behind the
 carrots and beets
 plus of course
 the onions all
 put out in the back
 yard by me hoping to feed
 the groundhog in ways enough that
 it would stay away from my flushing gloroso of purple
 flowers and the neighbor's two-door-over garden valuables. Alas.


 -----------------------------------------------------------


 The groundhog next door on Holborn who beat Colin back to
 his garden and spooked Bonnie sunning beside the other
 neighbor's in-ground big pool. This in conjunction
 with the Golden Pheasant eating the food put
 out for it off my front step every day
 during the height of the snowfalls
 in January at a time when the
 daily newspaper was reporting
 sighting of a Golden Pheasant so
 unusual to sight one in mid winter 30 Kms
 away the daily newspaper was reporting it, and every
 morning was that other Golden on my doorstep eating goodies as regularly
 as clockwork I told no one because I didn't know who had guns and
 would have prized the Golden Pheasant as a boasting trophy
 apparently someone did because one day the Golden
 did not arrive and was never seen again.
 It was midwinter. Imagine the
 lust these hunters have.


 ------------------------------------------------------------------


 All this came to a head two years later when a groundhog moved
 into my house. It started with the patio doors to the back yard wide
 open in summer now in Greely in Ottawa south, me at the computer table in
 the corner of the work room me now in the living room for a brain erase
 hour long in front of the hopeless bube tube (at this time arialed
 by coat hangers and wires threaded over the drapes), back to
 the work room and frantic scurry scrape as something
 with loud claws beat like hell out the patio
 door before I got there, a couple
 of days later this groundhog
 turned to look up startled
 me before darting out
 the patio door,
 after that
 it was
 guest
 time
 the
 ground
 hog could
 be in the room,
 the kitchen, soon,
 even the living room when I
 was watching TV by this time food put
 out for the friendly wary critter in it would come into
 the living room and partake of the food dish as long as I did
 not look at it the moment I turned eyeball stare toward it it was gone.
 This was a house that had no basement. Down a half flight of stairs off
 the kitchen to the rear door was where laundry machines (which me n'
 my brother did not have), once were, the water heater, furnace
 before 220 volt hydro base heaters were cheaply installed
 throughout the house before we rented, down there
 a panel could be pulled loose behind which
 was access to crawl space under the
 livingroom floor and one day
 down the stairs and into
 the crawl space went
 the groundhog in
 a scurry. I
 got curious
 looked under
 there, there was the
 pump for the water well, and
 little else but damp earth and shows
 of bedrock appearing here and there upon which was
 built this house. Fall rolled around and into this crawl space
 went the groundhog on totally now regular bi-hour occasions. Winter moved
 in. I had to seal the kitchen door to the lower level with bedsheet and
 tape to seal off the cold air. No sign of the groundhog. In January
 when the winter that year was the coldest, I penetrated the
 bedsheet and put out food and water just in case.
 No sign of the groundhog except I think field
 mice moved in from the back yard were
 partaking of the food and water,
 I think. Spring rolled around,
 least something had eaten,
 no sign of the groundhog,
 I had removed the hanging
 bedsheet shield used to seal
 off the doorway (which had no door)
 sealed with plumber's tape and no action on
 the food being put out hopefully for the ground hog
 who I had thought had moved into my basement crawl space for
 the winter but now I was not too sure since no food or water was being
 eaten. My worse thoughts were maybe the groundhog had been too sealed in
 and had kicked the bucket because of something I had done sealing the
 winter space there. What do you think happened. When spring rolled
 around enough that I could leave the lower back door open (off
 the half level downstep at the back of the kitchen opposite
 the crawl space opening), one day I heard this hellova
 sreetching racket and looking down the half-level
 back stairs happened to see a bright and
 tawny small groundhog interacting
 with a big dull brown
 walley groundhog
 and both
 disappeared
 into the opening
 under the crawl space
 that existed under the living
 room floor. Ho Ho, thought I, is the
 groundhog still alive having wintered in
 hibernation under my livinging room floor!
 It turns out it was alive. Now,
 regularly, 'Wally' who I
 had come to call
 my groundhog
 living in
 my house,
 came for
 regular feedings
 at the food put out on
 the plate by the living room door.
 Food turned out to be gourmet class oatmeal
 bought for extra at President's Choice at Loblaws,
 ordinary oatmeal would not exactly do. Only the best. Vegetables
 did not seem high on the diet, oatmeal was the best. At exactly 8 pm.,
 when the opening chords of a major Sci Fi TV episode, such as Star
 Trek Voyager struck, before the first 8 bars were finished,
 'Wally' whom I had come to call this big dull brown
 groundhog, would be at the alcove to the living
 room door, eating the oatmeal and other
 goodies on the plate. It was the
 same for Star Trek Deep Space
 Nine, even Star Gate, every
 day a different major
 theme every day
 'Wally' making
 an appearance
 within the
 first eight
 bars of the
 music at exactly
 8 P.M. We got to be
 friends. For instance one
 day Wally waddled over to scan
 the newspaper I had just been reading
 and laid on the floor. The phone rang, Wally
 instantly looked up to the phone on a counter, I shook
 my head and pointed to the TV in the opposite corner from the
 phone from where the phone had rung in a TV episode soundtrack, Wally
 instantly turned back to eating after having just asked if the telephone
 ring was for me, Wally by this time knew the routine. if the phone rang me
 on the go heading out on call to deliver a pizza from a nearby pizza joint
 in south Ottawa. Once it was a strange noise in the kitchen, something
 fell in the kitchen, Wally instantly looked straight at me
 Wally at the kitchen doorway by the gourme oatmeal,
 I shrugged my shoulders and pointed to
 the kitchen that I did not know
 (what had made the sound)
 and Wally instantly
 turned back to
 eating the
 daily
 oatmeal.
 By this time,
 mid summer, Wally
 and I had become friends. All
 I had to do was ignore Wally completely
 and Wally could come forth with every wish and
 groundhog consciousness unfettered all of this taking
 place in the living room in the middle of my house, you must
 understand. I had a row with a neighbor not a fierce howlout but a
 simple put-in-place like a beggar being told where the poor belong and
 the rest, all the advantages, me, the poor in the falling out with the
 rich biggot (I on wefare the biggot a millionair) came around the
 corner from the putdown toward my place on the main road and
 there mid-center was a groundhog so expertly road killed
 that the lungs were spread open on the road like a
 butterfly. I had a very bad feeling the instant
 I saw this. That was the last time I ever
 saw Wally and the bad feeling was
 correct Wally the groundhog
 the most innocent Christ
 pure entity in the
 chain of events
 was the victim
 when negative
 vampires moved
 in to give me a very
 bad day and had been taken out
 by the tire of a fully loaded dump trunk
 when trying to cross the main road to the swamp in
 front of my house. It is so unfortunate when the innocent so
 simple, get taken out first, when any good vibes are happening, by
 psychic vampires and worst from the planetary hell states who figure
 pure love is the worst of all possible vibrations instead of the direct
 link to universal and absolute Christ Energy Principles. I learned
 that big dull brown ground hogs are female because Wally
 was big and dull brown. The day the small bright
 and light brown woodchuck thrashed my
 Wally under the floorboards of
 my living room, mating, is
 the only time I ever saw
 the light brown guy
 in my house. But
 Wally had moved
 in. What does
 this tell
 you about
 how females
 instinctively
 can recognize and
 trust good vibes. I hope Wally
 still survives as a magnetic vortex in heaven.


 _______SPEAKING ABOUT VORTEXES_______


 Every
 sonic engineer
 has to agree sound does not
 exist solely in a human's ears, stereo specialists
 worldwide believe stereo sound is not possible without stereo
 speakers to produce it, matching those all importamnt flapping human ears.
 What has happened in the synapses. Where is the awareness that the stereo
 they hear is not possible until after the sound is regenerated in the
 listening environment where specialists and engineers and even
 Phd's formulate their theories, standing listening. The
 plain fact is stereo speakers are an easy way
 to reproduce sound but not the only way
 and definately not the best way.

 One speaker, producing
 one output from
 one recorded
 channel,
 produces
 a sound
 which floods
 the environment
 with sonic resonances
 and typically does not respond in
 stereo because the sound is so dampened and
 compressed, coming from mono. So they stupor, rather than think.

 Here is the thing
 the best brains in the business
 cannot believe let alone hear. One mike in
 front of a symphany orchestra is going to capture
 everything anyone in the symphany orchestra hears. It matters
 not the position of the mike in terms of quadrants or smaller in the
 orchestra the fact is that all rebounds, echoes, resonances, and
 straight line lineal longtitudinals will come into that
 single mono mike, and be recorded. It is after
 the fact that problems begin to appear
 and have been problems since
 re-produceable sound
 was first
 discovered.
 The problem is
 that the re-production
 technology is totally different
 than the recording technology. Except in the
 case of a few similar sized recorders and small speakers
 there is no correspondence at all between a radio station's best
 mikes and the stereo speakers the who's at home use to listen to the
 station. The real pproblem is lack of understanding that what happens
 is pre-recorded sound is being shot into an environment totally
 different than the environment in which the sound was
 originally recorded - your living room for
 instance - vrs Much Music's best
 recording studio. Actually,
 the above is news every
 one knows without a
 Phd. But, now,
 listen.

 If you can
 somehow modify your
 environment so that the sound
 coming out of your most expensive loudspeakers
 can spread out and consolodate in ways not exactly the same
 as but similar to the original studio environment, there
 is a chance you'r reproduced sound might sound
 like something more like the original.
 If you happened to know that
 all sound is six sided
 honeycomb, fractal,
 and penrose in
 geometry, all
 at the same time,
 it is possible that you
 can recreate not a similitude or
 fragment of the original sound, but, the
 original sound, including stereo, not the original
 sound true and fully but enough of it that you have no mistakes
 as to what it (the original) was like and no doubts that you have it
 re-appeared in your living room. This means that Glen Miller, recorded on
 one-track wire recordings from feeds from numerous mikes, can be re-created
 in your home so authentically, so pulsating, so ballistic that you can be
 dancing around in your kitchen out of control with glee and success as
 Glen Miller plays forth from your hand made invented from first
 principles stereo set in your living room. Don't be brain
 dead over this. That fantastic stereo sound just
 reported that caused the dancing hanging
 loose stomp of glee in the kitchen
 was from 100% mono sound
 sources, and 100%
 single channel
 mono line
 feed
 from
 the amp,
 in reproduction,
 after the fact. So now you
 know, sonics are a principle, not merely a
 property in someone's electronics factory used to make money.

 This means that your whole house is throbbing with the Glen Miller
 orchestra performing live in your living room. Anyone stepping in,
 coming in the front door up the hall for instance, would be, if a
 professional audio sonics accustic man, dumbfounded to find that the
 whole of the Glen Miller 3-way interfacing rythm structure (Little
 Brown Jug) is coming from one feed, one recorded mono track off a
 78 Rca platter, one speaker lead leading from a one channel output
 to a single 10 inch woofer its screws and tweeters taken out and
 speaker propped foreward, with a linked in series further lead out
 to an 8 inch oval propped up all by itself in the open on your living
 room floor no different than if you were holding it in your hand, the
 whole embodiment mono, even as you hear wall rattling stereo. The above
 remarks are something a planetary observer will recognize at once as
 being true. Everyone else, for instance anyone from the planetary
 condition, will think it is false. It tells you in an instant which
 side of the toadstool you are currently on, the observer side, or the
 side that reeks to high heaven. One side makes you brighter, the
 other side makes you fall.

 If you want to pry more information out of me you can't. You have
 to read Newsonics.htm at visitastronomy.com/newsonic.htm. If you
 are one of those who likes to have the answer before the question,
 read the latest (most recent) Sound.txt passages first, and regress
 backward to the beginning to find out how the jaw dropping demo
 finally came about.


 -------------------------------------------------


 In the image and likeness of,
 does this mean the most far beyond petty
 conceits of mortal humans believing only themselves
 and god exist in creation, who could ever
 believe god limited the whole
 of creation to us.
 This is the
 kind of stunt
 a god can pull to get
 people to pray abjectly and
 hopelessly pleading for favors including
 good weather to go fishing. That god does not get my
 vote for a place in the vestibules of Reality, that god might
 not even make it through the eye of the needle back to Reality and
 will be extinguished forever when Christ Principles move back in place
 firmly and for the last time until the end of this Universe's evolution
 into another full time member of the super universe. These firm
 principles include a full 100% equality between male and
 female. Ego, that god does not even exist in
 Reality. Any god you pray to using
 words like Him and He and His
 is a prison guard hoping
 to keep you locked up
 along with Him for
 however few more
 instants are
 left in
 life
 for
 Him
 before
 ALL of the
 lights wink out
 for Him, and you too if
 you stay too stupid to realize that
 Him and He and His, those gods all around the
 places on Earth, are only illusions in the delusions of
 regressed population's minds. The real gods are not gods at
 all but Supreme Creators. Think of mother god and father god both
 needed to make anything work. The two we need only concern ourselves
 with, since there are only two, are the Supreme Creators who wish
 to be known at this time as Alpha and Omega, the Father and
 Mother of all of Creation. In time, the names Alpha and
 Omega will pass away and be replaced by incredibles
 of light and power so profound in your
 conciousness you cannot even have
 a thought about them, just,
 experience. In time,
 In time, the time
 will come when
 you and the
 Supreme Creators
 will become more and
 more as one, but only when
 you let go of your dependence and
 addictions to those many lesser gods known
 collectively as He, Him, and His. These Him's, His's,  and
 He's (there are so many all using the same three names) who make
 you believe the shocking shots you feel are real, are nothing
 else but the very things the bible warned you about
 in warning about abominations in the end times.
 There is a co-creator in the family of the
 Supreme Creators, known as Christ, the
 co-creator never asked anyone to
 worship even when walking the
 Earth, the only thing ever
 announced was to believe.


 -------------------------------------------------


 The problem with english
 are the problems of any communicator
 coping with words which do not have proper context
 in any concepts of the language - here is how the problem with
 english can be philosophized - problems with the Marquee, who keep
 marqueeing the Marquee, if only they werent's so marqueeish,
 in marqueeitating the marqueeistically marqueeized
 marqueeations, when marqueeizing marqueeism.
 If the word 'marqueeism' gives you
 problems, think of the word
 'zionism' to give
 you context.

 The problem with 'nothing there' philosophies - problems with
 the significators who keep significating their significations. If
 only they werent's so significantly signifying significants, when
 significantized with significated significantisms. Big egos, are
 the other words, aptly revealing the problem with english, which
 term actually has meaning. Well, they all do. It is a question
 of which meaning has more meaningiancy, and on it goes. Believe
 it or not, many people actually think this way, adding a meaning
 to a meaning to come to another meaning on top of the meanings
 already made meaningful by the adding of more meaningmores.

 Adding more meangingmores does a meaningless make. English, when
 left unattended, can run right out of control and often does. think
 of politics expecially when a political leader or police chief lies.
 A main problem is in trying to define terms, the definitions can take
 control right down to the molecular and atomic levels of a word.

 Insights which pass back and forth in 1/10th of a second flat between
 beings who agree without question that the 'pass' is correct, is a far
 better far more efficient way of communicating. Surprisingly, not even
 pure mathematics can take the 1/10th of a second 'passes' right down
 into the molecular and atomic levels. For this it takes consciousness
 which operates fully open beyond dogmas and dull beliefs. And only
 works best, when all information that passes is truthful and real
 without spin from cunning emotions.

 There is another sad side to life, and that is the meaninglessness
 of being meaningless. Most people are anaware of it, deeming to be
 self proclaimed superior in fact. Some however do have a sense of
 missing. A name with 3 Roman I's after it (Jr. the III) is one way
 some use to compensate lack of talent. Another is glib lie and
 subterfuge, persuading in convincing ways without ever actually
 having to do the content of the persuasion. Fake specialists
 instantly spring to mind, specially those vigorously pocketing
 money faking it.

 A third way, extremely widespread, is to simply take that which
 is not rightfully earned by dint of talent or deed, just take,
 with no regard the violations of deeper human values which are
 only found in the higher consciousness. Such takers can be deadly
 to others often excercising their self proclaimed right to eliminate
 anyone who does not give the unearned on demand or simply annoys the
 demander by such offenses as wearing eyeglasses. Of these there is
 little to discuss in the way of big words or additives to create
 more meaningmores. Such takers do not have natural born capacity
 to wallow in big words anyway and often grunt and hum when pressed
 to explain their most important devastating or destructive actions,
 if not actually dispatching the asker to a fast ride into the afterlife.
 Dispatchers have learned to use a rule that so few really want to
 use, the field is wide open for the takers to roar right up the
 middle when they realize they can.

 Punishment and prisons does not seem to removed the takers
 from society because for every one taken from circulation
 bound and gagged, another steps forth to fill the void in
 opportunity. The only thing missing from takers lives is
 sense of purpose, knowing the talent they want to achieve
 is missing, no talent, take. Everyone has talent enough to
 install a sense of purpose, the problem is where talent in
 the gene pool is weak it is easy for others who act and do
 the thoughtless, to take any minimum sense installed at birth
 away or family and replace the lost with false values that
 include force and meyhem. Here come the bullies, every one,
 who has had the 'sense' taken away by someone else.


 _______QUICK CRASH COURSE IN HISTORY_______


 Here
 is a quick
 crash course in
 history for you observers
 who have been mixing and thatching around
 the planet and have not yet poked your rose into this
 more of lore. For 500 years astronomers and the merry handed
 overseers who controlled their outputs, believed the Milky Way was
 the whole total compass of the entire universe, here there was nothing else
 to the universe but what could be seen by weak telescopes both handmade and
 engineer designed in machine shops, it was all right here, the whole pony,
 right in their own Milky Way, the same little Milky bits you see when
 looking up at midnight, they thought thus to be nothing more than
 a series of small nested spheres Chinese puzzle fashion for
 lore years. It was 1925 that a guy named Edwin Hubble
 (of Hubble Telescope fame for whom the telescope
 is named) put together enough evidence to
 once and for all prove that other
 galaxies exist beyond the
 Milky Way. Mind you,
 it was not a
 single
 stunning
 sudden boondoggle
 disclosure that brought
 the whole crowd of oldtimers and
 lineally thinking astronomers to their geez
 realizing Andromeda was a galaxy. It had taken Hubble five
 secret years accumlating evidence to show at the conference that
 changed everything, in 1925. Several years earlier Hubble had tried to
 show evidence that Andromeda swirled beyond our galaxy and was laughed off
 stage with stark hoots - one of those kinds of putdown laughters that swells
 like a dynamite explosion and lasts for a long time - but Hubble dusted
 off the bustup and went to work anew getting a better act together,
 rather than writhing like a morning glory at noon and calling
 it quits causa target shooting harpies. Hubble's glory
 in 1925 was not a minor event, it was the first
 major upgrade in human superior mentalizing
 intellectual's overatures to reality
 following the amazing
 breakthrough
 that Galileo made
 that moons orbited planets,
 to wit, that four moons orbited Jupiter.
 Up to that time, all scientists in the world believed
 (or rather were forced to believe) that the entire Cosmos circled
 around the Earth. Quite literally, all Catholics believed that Earth was
 the center of the universe therefore the physical universe had to circle
 around their pope and from there it spread out to include mortals. Other
 religious factions of that time the same saw gods circling the Earth
 like a merry go round, egocentrically. And so, you have, a bleak
 1500 year history in which anyone who said no to blithly
 cycling gods, no merry go round, was simply put to
 death, including Catholics - Galileo was
 the first to escape the death edict.
 After toiling a liftetime in
 total secrecy under
 awareness of
 death if
 discovered,
 Copernicus, using
 Galileo's keen datas, showed the
 planets orbited the Sun rather than the Earth.
 Kepler showed up proving planets orbited eccentricically
 rather than in perfect circles (the view produced by Copernicus),
 and Isaac Newton showed why the planets had non-circular orbits. Leap frog
 ahead from the middle ages to the 20th century, to find big Hubble in 1925
 showing where galaxies existed beyond the Milky Way, instantly creating
 for human view a much larger universe. So here, in this brief history
 of human astronomy, you have death for beliefs, imprisonment
 for insights, laughter for discovery, and long long
 long slows of time from one plateau to the
 next. How long do you think it will
 take for lowest level
 functional IQ's
 in the gene
 pools of
 society,
 and the
 highest,
 to throw
 away their deceptions
 and bizarre beliefs, about gods, and
 themselves, vrs Reality. Bring into the gene pool
 intermix, political insiders, cop commanders, international
 money muggers, and of course, the creaking sneaking thiefs of priestdom.


 The right
 to life and
 universality of
 life is so sacrosanct in
 Higher Law that just using the word
 'death' in a sentence is a violation of First
 Principles, even here on Earth. A main problem is most
 everyone on Earth kicks the bucket someday so most people use the
 word death as a noun of statistics and action, which is undesirable to
 say the least (using the word), yet, even you, an observer on a
 small planet, have probably used the word this very day.
 Try something else, kicking the bucket, gliding
 over the hill, passed on is more correct
 since no one dies until, in the
 energy life after a mortal
 embodiment, if the
 soul is still
 too polluted
 to be salvaged
 or resurrected, away
 it goes, whisked to Paradise,
 not for eternal playtime in the most base
 of anti-christ ways but to be housecleaned completely,
 to be stripped clean of every last residue of malfunctioning power
 such then the soul atom is issued anew for a new hopefully perfect projection
 into Universe life, all traces of you of before long gone . All souls have
 such mighty power that to tamper with them in any way by mortal hands
 is a grave offense in the eyes of upstairs. Anyone
 who has ever taken a life, or even thought
 of doing so, is watched very closely
 to see what they might do next.
 Abruptly abandoning thoughts
 of death or stray thoughts
 centered on harming
 others is the
 quickest
 way out
 of this trap.


 _______THE MOST POLITICALLY SENSITIVE WRITING OF MY LONG CAREER_______


 Allah
 who is the
 meanest most malevolent
 sexually perverted god anyone has
 ever imagined. Moslem christians are 100%
 arabs who have transferred to the christian faith,
 where a lord who can stop by for personal invisible visits
 gives rewards like santa clause anything you ask for as long as
 you have been good, if not its black coals in your stocking for eternity,
 according to most modern christian concepts. Back to Allah, a god who wipes
 the surface of the Earth clean like a housewife using Pine Sol now and then,
 of vermin the wipers being whizzed away to paradise as martyrs for a reward
 of eternity in personally chosen diddles those virgins for this martyr's
 choices these virgins for that lonely martyr standing over there,
 ever ready, twitching. Women get a tent of their very own
 to houseclean for the rest of eternity. What a dismal
 lost existence, sand as far as the eye can see
 and whenever a paradisial wind spins up
 she gets to sweep out the tent
 again and again as happily
 as she can without a
 husband beating her
 unconscious for not
 getting the sweeps right.
 Oh oh here comes a husband
 from the small bunch Allah keeps on
 hand for emergency purposes, not the same one
 from two days ago, a violation she knows not even what
 while watching the sun rise in beauty for the fourth time that
 hour. What is it going to be she panicked, her nose smashed again,
 two fingers broken one for the first time, meybe another couple of
 ribs cracked one for the third time, the knarly crunches of
 scar tissue for her cheeks, the eyebrows mishaped as if
 prehistoric, these all legacies from her Earth
 husband who was concidered benificent for
 not throwing her out the back door
 into the gutter when he wanted
 a new wife to add to the
 four and couldn't
 afford her then
 decided he
 could
 for the
 children she'd
 raised, the emergency
 husband in Paradise this time
 went racing on by it was for another
 tent it was for an outcry of pain from a
 sliver instead of prayers of bliss. That small
 shadow just now forming on the horizon is taking
 shape as a new arrival a seventeen year old now endowed
 with a wheelbarrow for truddling the colossal manly sticking
 out he had always imaged he would want when the time came,
 didn't realize his hands will have to stay gripped to
 the handles of the wheelbarrow for the rest of
 eternity. Yes, Allah, the great one,
 created from some men's mind at
 a time when life was at
 its dreary
 worst,
 not even
 Lucifer or the
 ring leaders in the
 hey day of the rebellion
 could have cooked up something
 as anti-christ as this dismal abysmal
 entity concept as goes by the online name of
 Allah, found almost everywhere on the planet. Beware.
 One wrong word against Allah, one bad remark against his
 prophet, can get you instantly world famous with a price
 on your head so high the one who collects becomes
 world famous rather than imprisoned for life
 for cold blooded murder. Yes, Allah, a
 god who  KNOWS  how to cover his ass.


 _______THE DAILY BOTTOMS UP CEREMONY_______


 Picture a
 devout moslem,
 intense, bottom wrestling,
 up, up, up, daily quota ceremony,
 hard thrusts up in the air a jerky motion at
 best totally unelegant their principle guarantee of
 a glance from allmighty benevolent malevolent
 smiling god called Allah, approving. It
 is well known in Islam societies
 that all men must present
 their heinies
 in bumrise
 ceremony 5
 times a day to
 appease that Allah. It is
 well known that baboon societies
 function on who is able to present their
 gummy bummy brown-ups funny dummy rear-end one-ups best
 in the face of the baboon society's leaders - only the fiercest most
 deadly baboon leader gets the best closeups leered at properly upthrust bottoms.
 Notice the word deadly. Five times a day the mass devout of Moslems must bend,
 lips grinding the floor, bums rised lifting in the air, reeking inspection
 by Allah. Think of the odors exuded. Think of the runs. It is not known
 if Allah inspects for best food sources. It is expected that Allah
 merely inspects to see who is bumming, who isn't, five times
 a day. The fact of trapped stale air escaping the open
 holy orifaces worldwide five times a day does
 not seem to be a problem for greehouse
 gases. Bumsups yes, spooting
 molecules into the airs
 of the place, ohyes.
 The five daily
 times a day
 brownring
 inspection
 seems so important
 to Allah that anyone who fails,
 who doesn't push their tush into the face
 of their god at the appointed hour can forget their
 place in paradise forever, not even cathothics who declare an
 eternity in hell for having a single bad thought about a catholic pope
 or priest, can claim to the advanced fantastics of foregoing the reward of
 fucks forever or a tent to clean for the rest of eternity in paradise,
 for failing to get that bum up in the air in time on that fateful
 day, which is why carpets magically appearing in the middle
 of downtown intersections in the rush hour in the world's
 busiest cities, the carpets hauled from the trunks
 and back seats of cars just to be sure, and
 who cares how much traffic is blocked or
 for how long or how many accidents
 as long as the bum makes its
 mystical appearance
 poking up from
 the carpet
 as the clock gongs.
 This, in the main intelligence
 this god called Allah has to pass on to the
 Earth, believe me, such gods as THIS can only have come
 from the worst of the lower intelligences of the world's worst lesser
 men, this planet has to offer. Picture it, a god who has to
 inspect your blower five times a day to see of one of
 you isn't faithful. I swear I tell you in every
 way I know to be honest, that any god,
 or higher intelligence
 that I know
 of, is
 interested
 in everything 'except'
 the condition of your drainhole.
 Believe me to be sincere when I tell you. The
 universe does not run upon bottom inspections five times
 a day. Anyone paying attention? I sincerely hope
 so. A future universe evolving on the
 principles of daily rear end
 inspection just does not
 seem one which has
 been created by
 beings who
 can
 originally
 create a universe.
 Think of the science they
 have had to use and know just to
 create a galaxy. A mother and father God
 will just not waste time looking at your arses,
 not even looking for worms since parasitic worms
 do not exist in heaven. Oh hey all you Moslems out there,
 got martyr yearns in your daily prayers. Concider that, if once,
 just once, over (say) the past 15 years, if you failed to get your
 bum up, fast enough, in time, just failed once, will you still be
 in line for a reward of infinite pucks in paradise by Allah,
 if you failed to get your bum up in the air once,
 just once, in time, over the past 15
 years. Oh great would-be martyr,
 concider your future, and
 concider it deep, if
 Allah is pissed
 off for you
 just once
 missing
 a bumup,
 what might
 Allah think of
 you if you blow the
 dynamite 3 seconds late.

 If you
 are an observer
 on this small planet and
 have noticed the bumup ceremony
 taking place near you today, take measure
 in being assured that because you are not one of those
 whose bums are up like fleas stuck to a dog's carpet, you will not
 likely ever go to paradise of the design made by Allah, that
 paradise will get you nothing but confusion in sheer
 hell seconds before the lights wink out
 for the rest of eternity.
 Can I make it any
 clearer.
 Already, just
 discussing the problem,
 has resulted in literature which
 sounds like it was found in an insane asylam's
 washroom. Concider what the writing could be like if all
 stops were pulled and no political correctness was used to water
 down what is. As it is, washroom grafitti hardly works, and we
 have not even got into the more serious stuff, like how women
 are treated by Allah fierce males let alone how little
 girls are regarded in the harems.


 _______WEATHERING THE STORMS_______


 Hey you,
 pssst, observer
 on a small planet, if you ever
 get into writing about planetary claims
 be prepared for the aftermath, the smoky looks of
 police following your rotations, psychiatric evaluation at long
 distance (they love reports that heft their incomes without knowing a
 thing about you) the amount of official biographical information - all
 of it bad - none of it in your actual autobiography, can astound you,
 be alarmed at the reactions which can happen if you mention
 knowing anything beyond the horizon, beyond Earth,
 that has intelligent beings in the context
 of your remarks not quardian angels
 or spiritual guides or that
 ilk but actual in fact
 information, and
 in particular
 be cautious
 about anything
 that pops holes in
 religious people's most
 intense beliefs, popping a hole
 can open a hell for instance any well placed
 remark that the grisly corpse which christians and
 catholics wear around their necks and worship in cathedrals
 is the opposite in Reality to Christ Energy Principles is enough to get
 you blacklisted almost everywhere you turn, even among who you thought friends
 will suddenly be working against you behind your back. How many countries do
 you think might deny right to life for the above remarks about Allah.
 The problem is remarks such as these need to be made in the
 lack of anything else that can instantly solve the
 problems with solutions the complications
 of Allah are so deep in the
 planetary black magic
 consciousness that
 solutions are
 hard to
 come
 by
 as is
 the problem
 of the grisly corpse,
 except, that can be solved in an
 instant by people simply throwing away
 their crucifixes and hauling down the grotesqueries
 from inside their cathedrals. Masons too have a lot to worry
 about by the by getting their thoughts straightened around back toward
 Reality. Anything said, that can cause a sting of deep seated worry in
 the center of a malpracticer can cause the stingee to run amoke
 doing anything possible to shut down or remove the
 source of the sting against ego and believe
 it, the problem is many stingees
 are powerfully connected
 and do not take sting
 inductions against
 their whims
 and links
 lightly. So,
 you, obsever on
 a small planet, be beware
 where you place your ads of existence.
 No matter what you do there will be howls of comeback
 in the messed up ontologies of the 4th dimension of this planet,
 some of the mess working back in a comeback way back toward
 you in the 3rd dimension. Individuals relieved to read
 ways having reasons for them to spontaneously
 turn away from realms they intuitively
 believed were hell are a good
 enough reason for
 taking the
 risks
 writing.

 Kissing
 the feet of the
 master is used in eastern
 law to quickly establish who is boss.
 The same 108 names are given personally to
 zillions of followers who don't know the same
 name has been given to the feet kisser next to
 them, since all secret names and mantras are
 secret. And all mantras are the same 108
 names, as once used by Krishna. Makes
 a big planet a real small place,
 doesn't it.


 _______SOME KIND OF SPRINGBOARD EFFECT_______


 A former
 nondescript human
 circ. mid 1990's suddenly
 turned out to have an interesting
 inside loop in personality announcing abruptly in
 excited peekaboo in an upcoming transcanada election campaign,
 via 'presto' being played in the living rooms of every Canadian home
 who watched TV and read the daily press. This was the campaign in which
 a graduated Dr. of Transcendental Mediation lore was going to become
 Canada's next prime minister and yes the campaign was launched
 with full page picture of the guesswho booing a foreward
 handout stance, the literature explaining to
 the Canadian public that all that
 was needed was only 7,000
 worldwide to yoga hop
 simultaneously
 rising up
 in a clump
 and dropping
 their rumps thumping
 hard against mother earth the
 resulting shock so mighty so vast so weighty
 it would create the power necessary for their Maharishi
 leader to rise up and resume his rightful place as ruler of the
 universe -----? How can intelligent men and women ever have come to
 such an idea. How could a ruler of a universe fall so far that it would
 take 7000 simultaneous bumshocks straight up the spine into the rattling
 brain to generate the right kind of power to restart the
 old guru's heaven engaging engines ----?
 A cackling babbling gabbling
 god whose eyes loose
 rotate control
 and the voice
 sing songs
 in weird
 high
 pitched
 glow-tones
 when delivering
 news to the media while
 being showered by flowers by followers,
 seems an unlikely source for eternity power when knowing
 eternity power can only exist by the most profound levels of science
 physics and mathematics it is possible to imagine, brought into
 creation even long before the first dim glimpses of matter,
 let alone human life forms, is what you are facing
 when attempting to understand eternity,
 old bumshock the guru whose
 succreas passion for
 cackling has
 now been
 exposed,
 is not
 the type to
 have access to such
 mathematics, would you agree.

 As for
 yoga hops, as
 teenagers, we used to sit
 on our bums on the livingroom carpet,
 legs crossed, rocking back and forth, then sudden
 downflip of the crossed legs, in contests to see who could soar
 through the air the farthest. This was more than a decade before the
 transcendenting mediationalizers turned up claiming yoga hops could
 only be achieved by those who forked their pork to the society's
 treasure chest reepers with hands out, and then had
 practiced the meditations they had paid for
 enough to become almost a Dr. of
 transcendal med lore. We
 did it because we
 were having fun
 hopping around the
 living room as teenagers.
 No guru soared roaring back into
 heaven as a result of our hops, I can assure you.


 -------------------------------------------------


 Beware
 of men of
 religious authority
 who move in slow motion and
 stand with their hands cupped over
 their nuts, these men are usually intent
 on getting souls to agree with them to increase
 their desparate sense of lord power, but, that power
 goes nowhere except straight down the veeping vortex into
 the pit. Nut cuppers are seen world wide and extend beyond
 the breaches of mere religions. Nut cuppers have been
 dictators. Bosses who run rigid unpleasant
 office structures can be nut cuppers.
 Cops tend to have the stance
 beyond normal bell
 curves in the
 population.
 Nut cuppers
 are everywhere,
 and funny thing is most
 do not know they stand cupping their
 nuts. Similar is seen in ladies who fondle their
 crucifixes or neck dangles endlessly arms always wrapped
 across their chests and hands at the throat cutting off major
 frequencies, and pass biting black magic fear laden judgements against
 others in the private thoughts. Such people are a problem indeed for
 the last thing they want to hear is someone pointing out they
 are cupping their nuts, or throttling their throats
 everywhere they appear in public, the self
 importance goes in a flash when
 absurdity is noticed
 in their public
 stances. And
 instead of dissolving
 the stance, they tend to point
 fingers at the noticers and demand judgement
 from followers and flocks, authorities and blocks that can
 hardly move from inner inducted parallysis. Laughter and joy they
 think are sins, or affronts against their morbid cold lonely
 forlorn authority statuses. It is easy to avoid such
 malfactors either by simply staying out of sight
 of them or staying silent in their midsts,
 avoiding them is the easiest
 defence of all.

 And
 so, observer
 on a small planet, have
 you been diligently avoiding the
 overplus fallouts today. It is an ongoing
 occupation staying alive and alert, to not fall asleep when
 walking around at the worst time, to avoid incoming telepathic discharges
 from someone else's out of control psychic, and so on. This is life at
 the fun end of the fast lanes. To be on the planet, but not of it.
 Always where possible expanding the laws Love one another,
 Serve one another, whenever possible, in what ever
 way works to expand the principles of
 First Cause in Reality. Someday,
 everyone will know these
 princples and there
 will be
 peace
 on Earth
 as it is in Reality
 when all of the aftermath of the
 Luciferian rebellion has been weeded out and dissolved.
 Someday. But not yet now, there is a lot of work still to be done, weeding.
 Everyone has to work on the project. It is not one person's task. It is
 vaster than the planet. And most of the work is being done in
 thoughts as you sleep, as you wake, it never stops.
 It will continue until beyond this planet's
 latter days, even then, thereafter,
 it will continue for as long
 as you want to continue
 to exist by your own
 free will choice
 to do it right
 in Reality in
 energy being
 lifestyle where
 no one is supreme or
 self proclaimed superior,
 because, there, ego does not exist,
 love and service does, thought that harms thing
 or individual have all passed away to make way for real energy
 that is totally harmonious and moves inexorably toward maximum power
 of pure love in all extensions, devoid of carnal, devoid of sleaze,
 devoid of smut, devoid of polluted power, devoid of waste,
 devoid of destruction. Even on Earth, a glimpse of
 real Paradise is possible. Get to work,
 everybody, that is why we are all
 here, every soul on Earth has
 part of the job to do and
 if you do not know what
 your job part is at
 least you know
 what it isn't,
 death, decay, and
 dissintigration are not job parts.


 January 1, 2002 / October 1, 2002.
 Stark Overplus.


    Footnote:

    Re: visitastronomy.com - a project like this, thousands of enhanced
    images and interpretations, cannot be possible without some inner
    vision leading the intuition to probe and explore into fruitful areas,
    where inner vision is translated into an outer expression. To do this
    at all, requires some connection to a greater form of illumination
    where God in all in Male and Female equality is universally apparent.
    I am a babe in the woods. The woods have been mapped in detail by higher
    powers. The Supreme Creators (Alpha and Omega) are the ultimate source
    of anything anyone can know, or wish to know, as long as it is positive
    creative and constructive.

    Picture the babe in the woods, trying to sit up in the bassinet, arms
    and legs flailing against air and squalling at the top of its lungs.
    Meet modern day astronomy.


                           DRUMBALLIA

                  Rythms that soften the world.

                  Clear light surrounds the sounds
                  the sounds surround clear light
                  in more than a universe, heard in
                  rythms that are the fundamental
                  fabrics of Creation.


    A flag flaps forlornly and motionless in deep space just
    beyond the atmospheres of earth. It is the derlect hubble
    unused everything on it cooled to the ulta cold temperatures
    of surreal space. A memory flag has been placed on it in hello
    to anyone who happens by. The flag reads...


                                  FROM EARTH
                                  VIA THE WORLD -
                                  SIGNED BY THE PEOPLE


    Positive wins another round in the countdown.
    The above flag, ment by makers to show
    existence of themselves and presumed
    higher intelligence, the flag is actually
    one of the best examples going anywhere
    of the nature of Spirit, Mind, and Body.


           The above, observer.txt , is looking for a publisher. Anyone
           with publishing interests interested, can contact a source at:
           greydie@look.com , solicitations where author pays up front
           are not wanted.