Who Are These People?

No. 26 of 31 - Thermometer series

The thermometer drive’s still going, great guns, wonderful progress. It's been nuts! I’m making friends all over the world. By the time I get done I'll need a bigger planet... Still, as many friends as there are, and no matter how tenaciously they glom on, I keep reminding myself to keep a little distance. You don’t want drop-ins especially here in the Big City where your very best friend could be the one that offs you.

But I’ve always had tremendous luck in my life. Barely anyone’s ever done anything even remotely threatening to me. I think I can fend off the world’s hordes as subscribers, commenters, and readers of my blog. I’ve done OK so far. But of course I’ve had only a handful of the world’s people. And statistically, yes, there’s been a few duds in the mix. Nothing to worry about. And if you're reading this, it's not you.

Anyway, no worries... I’ve heard of plenty of blogs with huge numbers, and I’m sure they’re not awake all night living in fear. Why live in fear? There actually are good reasons. We have this one body, we’re vulnerable, and when you’re one guy against a crazy mob, there’s no telling what can happen. Like Jesus, merely trying to get people to go to church and be nice and all it got him was crucified. I think it had to do with money. A lot of tightwads out there would just as soon crucify you as look at you..

But I'm looking on the bright side. This is no day for paranoia! Seems like I was happy yesterday. I think I was. But I’m hazy, really. One day’s different than the next. I just peeked through the blinds and another guy was walking up the street. How many times has it been? I’ve seen guys walking up the street every single day for the last month. And that’s no exaggeration. Now, figuring I’m not always looking out the window, but only once in a while, and nearly every time I do there’s someone walking up the street. Multiply that times all the times I’m not looking... I have a multitude of guys walking up the street. I should either be out there with a sign-up sheet for my blog or forgetting it all together.  Do it online, keep it anonymous.

Ah yes, the faceless, nameless hordes of people, the miserable, the lonely, the riffraff and refuse of the teeming shores. That’s why the Statue of Liberty holds that sword [Kafka], to cut the head of any lowlife who dares look up her dress. She doesn’t mind welcoming you in, she just wants you to keep moving. Through the turnstiles at Ellis Island where they misspell your name every time. Your name is Dobbs and you have a son, your family name’s suddenly Dobson.

Yes, folks, we’re still charging ahead with the thermometer drive, and it’s awesome. I've heard reports from as far away as Mars that thermometers are blowing up like crazy. Part of it's the weird gravity strain that thermometer glass is prone to, the rest are people -- bushels and acres of people! -- going nuts over the quality of this blog, and doing what they can to get relief. Watch your eyes, though, people, because I cannot be held responsible if you're hit in the eye by glass. Keep at least one eye good enough to read with, an important note to remember.

Savior with a Gun

In every world I've heard of there are Saviors. The key thing with conscious creatures is we quickly sink into semi-consciousness or worse, not knowing our true selves and place in the cosmos. Everything bad (speaking existentially) stems from that Original Sin, the Big Bad O. So Saviors pop up as needed.

This particular Savior, on one of the worlds, like all Saviors, is full of great wisdom. The big difference is he teaches wisdom at gunpoint. It's like this: He's born, he grows up, he buys a gun, he reveals himself, and he gathers disciples, later to be charged with taking his message to others. But they also lack wisdom, so there's a period of teaching, preparation for the future.

The first day, the Savior raises his gun and shoots it, telling his disciples to go find the bullet, what's left of it. Off they go for a job that could take hours and never pay off. The Savior's purpose in this, without saying another word, is to draw out their willingness. How will they handle the bigger job later without sharing his will?

The second day, as before, the Savior raises his gun and shoots it, sending them forth to find the bullet. Off they go! As said before, it's tough to find a shot bullet, or slug. Of course they know the general direction, but once you get out there, it's virtually impossible to find. His purpose is to teach patience, something most of us definitely need.

The third day, the fourth day, and the fifth day, the Savior raises his gun and shoots it, sending them forth to find the bullet. And each day they're off with this unenviable task, since it's really just more of the same. Monotonous, thankless, and probably disgusting. But he has an overall purpose. Those days he's teaching attention to detail, teamwork, and diligence. I can see how attention to detail would come in handy looking for an expended bullet. It'd be mixed in with dirt, rocks, and who knows what. But if you used teamwork, maybe a few of us would look over here and some over there. And diligence. You can't give up easily. Shrug off tiredness, let's find it!

The sixth and seventh days are much the same. The Savior raises his gun and shoots it, just as before, and directs them forth to find the bullet. Naturally, as you might readily guess, he's teaching them thoughtfulness and self-reflection. Thoughtfulness is one of the ways we absorb wisdom, and you'd need it after six days of looking for bullets. Self-reflection centers in on who we are and what we can become, things definitely needed for the task ahead. The task ahead will be even harder than looking for slugs.

The disciples, though, thinking it over, have heard of Saviors who do it other ways. Whereas theirs doesn't vary in the slightest. Shooting his gun and having them hop-to to find the bullet. They bring the matter to him, spelling it out, really complaining, "You shoot the gun and we look for the bullet, day after day after day..."

Inscrutably, in response, the Savior remains silent, picks up his gun and shoots it, this time twice, directing them forth to find the bullets. In silence he teaches them two things, obviously great wisdom: 1) Get used to it; and, 2) Be my guest ... When you're the Savior do it your own way.

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Coming up: Stories from the "Savior with a Gun Bible," and leading a class or seminar through our "Savior with a Gun" curriculum. For preparation, you will need our material and a gun. Please note, we advise a country setting with lots of land to which you have access. For those staying in town, you will need to make do with a rubber band or PCP pipe marshmallow gun. In an inner city environment, of course you have other options.

Rice -- Food of the Japanese Gods

When you write a blog like this, your credibility is constantly on the line. So research is key to cover your bases. With that in mind, then, in light of my topic, I googled the question, "Do they grow rice in Japan?" The answer came back a resounding YES, so I'm on safe ground.

I've been eating a lot of rice, so it's a topic of interest. And just today in the local paper, they wrote about cheap, healthy meals, and rice came up Number One in two out of three instances. I started eating it a couple weeks ago, mostly because I used to like it when I was a kid and was feeling nostalgic. It is quite delicious, so good you quickly forget the lack of variety and basic monotony in each spoonful.

The rice I'm eating is the cheapest brown rice I can find. I also like brown eggs, since they seem more holistic, although I eat the cheapest eggs I can find, which always turn out to be white. But brown rice is just as cheap. Unlike eggs, with rice there's a big variety. You can get Uncle Ben, Minute Rice, wild rice, funky mixed rice (at coops), and plain bagged. Those are just the western varieties. There's also the eastern varieties, which tend to come in convenient 300-pound tough-meshed bales.

Speaking of Uncle Ben, I'm reminded of the old phone prank, from back before they could easily trace your number: "Do you have Uncle Ben Rice in a box? Yes. Is it his wife?" You didn't see that coming, did you?

Notice how I said the eastern varieties of rice come in 300-pound bales? The biggest thing we think of when it comes to rice is how much of it orientals eat. I've actually visited orientals at their homes -- personal friendships. I've been to a couple graduations and one memorial service, where we lit candles for a recently deceased relative, who would expect ancestor worship from then on. On all occasions we had rice, including something they called Sticky Rice.

Do you know about Sticky Rice? No doubt it's good (I've eaten it), and good for you, except it's taken from the pot by each individual reaching in and pulling out what they can manage. They struggle to separate a piece from the main wad. If you're first in line, that's a fantastic system. If you're back in the nines and tens, and all the others have already reached their dirty fingers in and done their worst against the wad, it's less desirable.

My advice to orientals about Sticky Rice: Have the cook scoop it out on to a shallow pan, cut it in pieces, then stack the pieces neatly on a platter. Using plastic gloves. Then your gods might look on you with more favor. I know I certainly would. I might even pray for you and turn the tide of whatever misfortune's headed your way.

That's what I wanted to get to, and almost forgot, their gods, who gave them rice. "You are Japan! You shall be known for rice! I have spoken, I shall perform it, my perfect will!" one of their gods, or several in unison, vowed. But why their gods didn't reveal the best way to handle Sticky Rice after all these centuries, and are just now speaking the truth through me is a mystery. Apparently I was born for something, and now it's accomplished.

I know they might say something like this: "We too have lengthy histories, and have developed many immunities, perhaps different ones from yours. Our gods blessed us with these immunities, which admittedly required generations of the weakest among us to die. But, naturally, they would've died of something by now anyway, so it may as well have been dirty Sticky Rice. Our point being, Die happy."

OK, if that's the tact their gods took, who am I to question the inscrutable? Their gods were smart enough, let's assume, to bless them with billions of tons of rice, they're probably smart enough to work out a system of eating it. Certainly the folks aren't complaining about eating it. I also think it's very good, as I said before, but I wouldn't want it as my main dish everyday.

It's Thanksgiving All Over The World

One of the reasons Thanksgiving is so great is it's one of the few holidays that brings the entire world together in a common celebration. Most of the other holidays, while being great, are so much more provincial, Christmas, New Year's, the Super Bowl, and even Arbor Day.

But for at least one day a year -- this day -- we can all be Pilgrims and Indians, recalling the old days. That's what they mean by "Celebrating Thanksgiving in the Olden Manner," that we bridge the years back to the holiday's original spirit.

The fact that Thanksgiving is held in common, and treasured in common, around the globe makes it something so much more special. Because we're truly able to see, much as when we glimpsed the Earth from outer space in the days of the astronauts, that we have one planet and one family, one common humanity.

Thanksgiving of course has a religious significance, as we give thanks to the one true and living God for His rich bounty. It's a day that brings all men together in harmony, even atheists, to reflect on our blessings from above and to yield up the spirit of thankfulness from reflective hearts.

We see Thanksgiving's magic in the micro sense around our own dining room table, with loved ones who won't speak to each other any other day of the year suddenly embracing in tears before enjoying the sumptuous feast. Every divide is bridged!

Abraham Lincoln, one of our best loved presidents, having a special place in the hearts of his countrymen, had it right when he proclaimed what Nature had already dictated, that men everywhere need to and long to give thanks to a beneficent Creator. We are suddenly reminded, as though we could forget, that who we are and what we have is found in that common, ultimate Source.

Lincoln issued the first proclamation long ago, declaring that, "Few will remember or long note what we have said here today." But he was wrong on this point. Indeed, few were present in that small room as the president spoke. But those few took his word to a few more, then those to a few more, and so forth, until the proclamation had touched the entire world.

And so it is today, in places as different as the Ukraine, the Netherlands, Africa, the Congo, Europe, Asia, and, yes, the United States and the Americas, men will sit and break bread, as well as roasted turkeys, and offer up a heartfelt word of "Thanksgiving" to Him who sits on high.

Our children will watch with wondering eyes, perhaps not entirely aware of the significance of the day. But the lessons they see will sink in, until the day they reach the fullness of manhood, and are called upon to pass it on to their children, and their children to their children, as long as life and the world shall be.

Happy Thanksgiving, world!