Tag: Transhumanism

PseudoCaring

Soon the mainstream disease care system will be employing robots and AI-generated advice dispensers as nurses and surgeons. It’s happening already.

Meet Grace, the robot nurse that COVID created

Some are shocked and appalled by this, as they should be, according to me. Others think it will be a fantastic improvement to human life, or a great way to make more fiat, or a solution to the burden on the caring professionals, or they love tech for tech’s sake, or whatever.

Those of us who love history and dwell constantly on the question ‘how has it come to this’ were well aware of this potential because we study the trajectory of modern life. I could begin with the first critics centuries ago, but for brevity sake, I’ll start instead with my own life, the only history available to me to know thoroughly enough.

Working mother, divorced parents, step parents, then step siblings, professional daycares, neighborhood babysitters, after school programs, junk food, convenience food, lots of TV. Family history of: diabetes, heart disease, obesity, cancer, vision problems, depression, eczema, alcoholism, Parkinson’s, and, you get the picture.

And I would not say my family life was bad. It was the typical American suburban life of a great many growing up in the 70s and 80s. Neither particularly good, nor bad, just normal. Normal, as in well-normalized.

Like most families my parents would joke about voting for the ‘lesser of two evils’. They probably learned that from their parents. My mom went to community college and got her degree once we were gone, in sociology. She worked full-time all her adult life and didn’t regret it. My dad remained ‘upwardly mobile’ as his Protestant father taught him to be.

In fact, we have retired before him, and he has just had his first heart attack.

They are both still with us, but they do not read this blog, so I could say whatever I wanted. 😏. But, that’s not the point of this particular post.

Let’s leave it at this—in hindsight, my unique perception of growing up this way is, in a nutshell—there was not a lot of parenting happening. The results of this having widespread and devastating effects.

It is from these original seeds of pseudocare that have been not only consistently irrigated in our own territories, but have been dispersed throughout the world these last five-plus decades which has ensured the trajectory to the ridiculous place where we now find ourselves: Drowning in pseudocare so deeply we can scarcely recognize what real care looks like anymore.

Another quick peak at the fruits those seeds have produced.

Yet even facing all of this, I’m still optimistic, as I have been all my life. Even at the worst of times, even during a few prolonged worst of times, I must’ve still learned something vital from my half-assed upbringing and collapsing culture.

So, here it is, in another nutshell:

Believe in yourself, believe it can change, but don’t practice in sidestepping the hard stuff. And the hardest of the hard stuff is care, real care—for yourself, for others, for the future—that is why we are here. How you go about that is your personal journey and your only real duty to discover and live. That is all there is to do in a life well-lived.

Which is why I want to once again quote an obvious example of someone doing exactly that, Gavin Mounsey, who is rocking the real care like a hurricane these days! Wait . . . What?? Ok, terrible simile aside . . .

I believe he knows what needs to happen next and is becoming the living manifestation of that in his own life first, and passing it around. Leading by example, it’s the only way. It’s the same cardinal rule as storytelling—Show, don’t tell.

From Gavin’s book, Recipes for Recipocity

Here are few select quotes from his recent interview with the witty Russian correspondent and potential future Russian-American homesteader, Edward Slavsquat: The Revolution Will Involve Fermented Cabbage

“I want to give my energy to improving and increasing the resilience of my local community, not your hyper centralized one size fits all infrastructure. 

“Freedom is not a consolatory prize that can be given to us to reward our obedience and capitulation to a system of violent coercion. It is not something that can be granted or provided to you by some government that wrote some thing on a piece of paper. Freedom is your birthright, and you either live it and embody it, or you allow yourself to be put in a mental cage by statists and other abusive institutions or individuals. My ancestors bloodlines are traced back to a people described in today’s terms as The Gaels. “Saoirse” is Irish Gaelic word for “Freedom”. Saoirse is an ancient concept that comes from the original Brehon laws of the Druidic (and eventually Celtic) world before the time of Christ. In the times when that word was created, my ancient ancestors lived without a centralized state, without prisons and without police.

“Saoirse means many things to different people. For some it means freedom to think, express and freedom to learn, for others it’s the freedom of imagination and the freedom of the spirit. And for some it also means freedom to set up parallel societies.

“This is one of the reasons that I included glimpses into two historical cultural cross sections of ancient cultures that existed without a centralized state and police/prison system in my essay as I feel that we can glean wisdom from stateless societies that existed for centuries to millennia in how to design more ethical, equitable, honest, Regenerative and practical ways to organize community, encourage amicable/respectful behaviour in humans and collaborate to leave this world a little bit more free and beautiful than it was when we got here after we are gone.

“With all that being said, I want to emphasize that I think that placing any culture, group of people or individual on some pedestal as pure is unhealthy. I feel we should be vigilant to make sure we are not romanticizing their past nor romanticizing the potential of their worldviews to provide solutions to the present challenges we face.

“The path to become connected to place with a reciprocal relationship, reverence and humility is the path to embrace indigeneity ourselves.

“It is a great starting point to create pockets of decentralized resistance to oligarchic / statist tyranny as growing your own medicine and veggies may appear harmless, but in a parasitic global plutocracy it represents a decisive action that severs the tentacles of tyranny in a critically important aspect of our lives (how we access food and medicine). Thus,  it is a radical and revolutionary act that appears benign to the hubristic philanthropaths and demociders, serving as a sort of covert sedition in a world governed by parasites that want us dependent, gardening to grow or own food and medicine is like a hammer wrapped in velvet that knee caps big pharma’s plans to poison us slowly through dependence on their system for health care and also strikes the spine of the digital gulag system, breaking its back so it can no longer have any strength to influence our lives through controlling our access to food/medicine.

A better essay about the importance of self-reliance and health as the ideal antidote to modern societal tyranny I could not have written! And he has a YT channel. 😁

He was also kind enough to try to address our biggest garden nuisance within the scope of his permaculture lens. He offered many potential solutions, and bless his heart for the effort. 

But I’ll just repeat my personal favorite: hot and spicy gopher wings. 🤪

What an example of authentic care—growing in the real and cyber worlds simultaneously—where even sassy meat-eaters and smart-asses and AI are welcome to stuff up their comments sections. Now that’s grace under fire!

Thanks to guys like these, in the coming decades I predict courageous fellowship will become the new sexy.

Coping with Gophers

Make Lemonade!

You know you’re getting old when someone replies to you, “So, what’s your point?” And your reply back is, “Why must there always be a point?”

Hence this post. I find increasingly I have no point, I just feel like writing something.

Santa Schwab decided one day a couple of decades ago that the globe needed to be more resilient. Is this because he is so concerned about the folk of the future? Does he use his vast wealth and influence to care for others in the here and now?

No. The future is more important than the now to the World Economic Forum class. They have triumphed over the now, the future is their next hurdle. The now is merely a tool of seduction for them in order to get those unhappy with the now (mostly because of them) to join them in their version of the future. Utopians are always scammers.

Why always lemonade? I’d like to ask them. Why are we always expected to take the lemons of life and make lemonade with them? What about vinegar and kombucha and cleaning products, and all the other practical uses of lemons?

Which brings me to why I don’t prescribe to certain popular New Age ideas even though I rarely meet a conspiracy theory I don’t like.

Conspirituality. Did you know that’s a thing? They’ve got academic papers on it, probably even a course by now.

“Everything that rises must converge.” It’s now attributed to New Ager Tielhard de Chardin, even though we were taught in school it was Flannery O’Connor who said it. They just change what’s written on the barnyard wall for the sake of the future.

Tielhard de Chardin is the supreme goofball who has called for robots to replace Jesus.

(Clip: Ilia Delio on a 2015 Tielhard De Chardin panel at Georgetown on AI hivemind and Ultra-Humanism)

I think these folks have way too much time on their hands. Idle hands are the devil’s playground. Why is it that folks with nothing to do are obsessed with controlling the future as well as the present lives of everyone else? Didn’t we used to equate this with being a busy-body? Didn’t they used to tell such pretentious and presumptuous nincompoops to mind their own beeswax? Aren’t there some starving children in Manhattan they might busy themselves with instead?

Not enough glamor in that, I expect.

What is this so-called ‘Great Awakening’ we’ve been subjected to online for a decade, at least? Is it a close relative of Santa Schwab’s ‘Great Reset’? Anytime the myth-makers stick the ‘Great’ on something, you can be damn sure the only thing great about it is the level of con involved.

Why do these clowns think they can run the world when they can’t even create a decent village? Would that not be a better starting point? Aren’t they the ones who love their hierarchies so much? Start at the bottom then dudes, prove you can run a fucking village for a decade or so, then set your sites up the ladder.

Are the ‘powers that shouldn’t be’ hiding our ‘limitless potential’ from us in order to keep us debt and wage slaves in their Matrix? Is robot Jesus coming to lead us all to salvation?

Inquiring minds want to know!
But they are mostly looking in all the wrong places.

The scent assault sums it up. It’s not spirits from the afterlife or your bad karma, it’s all around you though, in ways you aren’t thinking to look.

Because you must stop looking and sniff them out instead.

Of all the senses Scientism recognizes, the sense of smell is the most primordial and the most powerful. Proust’s madeleines are the key to what the vast majority of ‘liberty lovers’ and ‘rebels’ and ‘red pilled’ seem to be totally missing.

Walking down the aisles of the local Hobby Lobby, the grocery store, the thrift shop, even the church bathroom, I am SHOCKED at the artificial smells that penetrate so deeply it’s worse than a Spanish dive bar. Not only do I need to shower after such scent assaults, but also still have clothes that reek, requiring immediate soaking. Hubby’s smells of machine oil and solvents are actually preferable. Not that I’d want any of them in my house!

A neighbor once hugged me in the driveway and her fragrance lingered on my clothes so long I had to change. She complains of constant migraines.

These smells are killing you. I would say ‘us’ but we know better here than to bath in them all day and become nose-blind to their toxicity. I get nauseated in the candle aisle of Hobby Lobby and I intend for it to stay that way. To desensitize yourself from natural aromas is to become addicted to fast food, and I’m not kidding!

Desensitizing yourself to anything is dangerous.

Scents equal cents minus sense?

I’m surprised there’s not more satirists cracking more whips when these Santa-types go on and on about how concerned they are for nature. In the proper order of things a dozen satirists would be famous on such content. Nature to these asshats equates to the view from their mansions and better hunting on their safaris.

Do you think they use Febreeze?

We hear talk of pheromones, and of course aromatherapy and now coming on board is sound therapy. Always therapies.

Because of the scent and sound assaults. The ones right under our conscious radar. The ones we are bombarded with by civilization, mostly. And turds like Santa Schwab. And then given ‘therapies’ to cure the ills they cause.

What do you smell when you walk into the grocery store? Does it smell delicious? I doubt it, unless you go to some gourmet place that doesn’t even exist in these here parts. Here they smell nothing like food, more like a hospital trying to cover any smells that might get confused with something actually coming from nature.

What happens in the minds of those who become ‘nose-blind’?
In French they use the same verb for ‘to smell’ and ‘to feel’, simply making it ‘reflexive’ — je sens or je me sens — that’s how close these senses are.

My grandparents traveled in the their later years with the kind of tour groups that got a bad reputation around Europe for being entitled and obstinate. They loved it. They brought us home loads of gifts and it was my first taste of ‘foreign affairs’ that led to a couple decades of travel myself. I loved it.

One year they brought us home Christmas gifts from their tour of Soviet Russia. We got the usual souvenirs—the nesting dolls and some sweets I’m sure—I don’t remember much else except the piece of jewelry, maybe a ring? The ring, or whatever it was in that little box is long gone, but the memory of the smell I will never forget.

The whole scene that Christmas comes back instantly when I remember that smell. I made my appropriate oohs and aahs and requisite words of gratitude and was putting the gift in the pile of already opened gifts when Grandpa stopped me and said with a grin: “Smell it!”

I was very confused. Smell the ring? The box? I looked at him with a lot of hesitation, because he was, albeit a very generous man, also sometimes something of a scary one. Whatever was being commanded to me at that moment I did not want to mess up.

“Yes!” he insisted, now almost laughing, “Smell it!”

So I took a giant inhale with the box at my nose and nearly gagged, very literally.

Grandpa ROARED with laughter.

I thought he’d played a trick on me. My first reaction was one of suspicion. No surprise there. I nearly got angry (which always made him crack up) before he urged all the females of the family who had received similar boxes to smell theirs also.

Pretty soon we were all looking at him with various expressions from ‘How odd?’ to ‘WTF?’

Body odor, plain and simple. To a degree so severe that it curled my nostrils and nearly made me gag. It was the unmistakable stench of an unwashed man on the tram in the dead of summer. And somehow still clinging to the fabric of these boxes after purchase, suitcase, wrapping, and months in the top of the closet.

“But this is impossible!” “What did you DO to them all?” I gasped, still certain this was some practical joke of his.

He shook his head, still smiling. “Everything smells like that there,” he said, “Everything.”

I couldn’t believe it. No! How?! Why?!

He didn’t have those answers, apparently the gift shops and tour guides don’t offer such advisories in their brochures and he didn’t dare ask. (So much for the rude and loud Americans when it really matters.). He could only surmise that this is some sort of scented cleaner and sanitizer that they use on absolutely everything and everywhere in Soviet Russia.

About a decade later I traveled through Russia on my way to Finland in an old Soviet train. It smelled pretty bad, but nothing like that. More like stale urine.

The Soviet ring box body odor assault was leaps more tolerable than that of the stale urine or the Hobby Lobby candle aisle.

See, so there was a point in there. Or two. I think.