From the daily archives:

Wednesday, July 18, 2007

What if?

by Frank Paynter on July 18, 2007

What if, on the advice of your therapist, you walked under trees to encounter the fear that squirrels might jump on your head, and then — bang! — one of the little buggers actually leaped out of the tree and landed on your head? What about that? I think you should get your money back, or at least a free session.

[tags]squirrels keep falling on my head they keep falling, cognitive schmognitive, always walk in the woods with your squirrel dog[/tags]

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Thank you, Dave Winer

by Frank Paynter on July 18, 2007

Dave says:

We go to war because it’s profitable.

But it doesn’t make sense for most of us to support more war, because it may make us richer in the short term, in the long term (which is starting to be short term) it costs too much. It’s against our interest.

I’m old enough to remember Vietnam, and after it was over, I was sure that we would not make the same mistake in my lifetime. Well, it seems we didn’t learn the lesson well enough. It’s too easy for us to go to war. We need to do something to end the Iraq occupation, to bring our forces home and regroup. And we have to, this time, learn not just the lesson of Iraq, but the lesson of having a government that’s controlled by people who profit from war.

Somebody yesterday pointed me at this Dylan classic. I thought of it while I read Dave’s post this morning:

(Draw the curtains while you read this. The administration does not like it…)

Come you masters of war
You that build all the guns
You that build the death planes
You that build the big bombs
You that hide behind walls
You that hide behind desks
I just want you to know
I can see through your masks

You that never done nothin’
But build to destroy
You play with my world
Like it’s your little toy
You put a gun in my hand
And you hide from my eyes
And you turn and run farther
When the fast bullets fly

Like Judas of old
You lie and deceive
A world war can be won
You want me to believe
But I see through your eyes
And I see through your brain
Like I see through the water
That runs down my drain

You fasten the triggers
For the others to fire
Then you set back and watch
When the death count gets higher
You hide in your mansion
As young people’s blood
Flows out of their bodies
And is buried in the mud

You’ve thrown the worst fear
That can ever be hurled
Fear to bring children
Into the world
For threatening my baby
Unborn and unnamed
You ain’t worth the blood
That runs in your veins

How much do I know
To talk out of turn
You might say that I’m young
You might say I’m unlearned
But there’s one thing I know
Though I’m younger than you
Even Jesus would never
Forgive what you do

Let me ask you one question
Is your money that good
Will it buy you forgiveness
Do you think that it could
I think you will find
When your death takes its toll
All the money you made
Will never buy back your soul

And I hope that you die
And your death’ll come soon
I will follow your casket
In the pale afternoon
And I’ll watch while you’re lowered
Down to your deathbed
And I’ll stand o’er your grave
‘Til I’m sure that you’re dead

Copyright © 1963; renewed 1991 Special Rider Music

[tags]masters of war, dave winer, bob dylan, end the war now[/tags]

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Art Mine

July 18, 2007

In comments at La Vache Qui Lit, Blair Millen points to VVORK…
From whence it’s not too far a leap to simpleposie (functional, sincere, and from Toronto) where one finds interesting questions, such as:
Without a statement of curatorial intent, does selection (inclusion and exclusion) imply a value judgement? Does it have to?
(MW linked through me [...]

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