Freethinker's corner

Whosis?

2013/08/05

Chapter One – The Festering

“No, no, no, I scream. Not aloud of course lest they hear me. That inner voice – that blasted inner voice. Be silent, stop your banter, I am sick of you.” Outwardly the turmoil in this man’s mind is not expressed. He sits, constantly monitored, within a padded cell. The monitors never sleep, someone is always watching. Round the clock someone sits, looking for signs that this man’s troubles still exist.

Committed to an asylum for throwing a young woman to her death beneath the grinding wheels of a commuter train, the man, Allen Whosis, has spent two years raving at the walls, the silent padded walls of his cell. Then his cries were silenced as if upon command. Unknown to those who gaze upon the glowing monitors, it was upon command. Even now, even with his hatred seething at the thing within his head, he obeys.

After the tragic incident, after the train had finally ground the woman to indiscernible fragments beneath its wheels, his reasons for doing the deed were explained. “She was evil, she planned to kill me, I have been told.” It didn’t seem to matter to him when it was pointed out that he didn’t even know the woman, that she had done nothing or said anything to elicit such behavior. “She bumped me, said pardon me, and then I knew!” Allen asserted. How did you know, they pressed him for an answer: “That damned voice in my head told me so!” Allen screamed. The proceedings of the court were quick. He was to be committed for insanity.

Due to cost, due to compassion, who can fathom the reason, now the public was giving him a chance to leave this horrid place. If he can only put forth a sane countenance a little longer he might return to normal life. His voice, his inner demon, immediately ordered his physical self to be stilled. Knowing that he is not free of this creature, that he had not healed, he tries vainly to express his frustration, his anger, but finds all efforts stifled. If anything at all is noted about his features, by the observing audience, it is the blankness of emotion, his nearly robotic movements, and his lack of any expression whatsoever.

Under subsequent interviews to ascertain his mental condition the quick and steady responses made without hesitation are duly noted. Progress, it is noted, is being made. The doctors, of which there are many, speak among themselves and pat each other upon the back congratulating themselves upon the fine progress the patient is making under their care. All the while they fail to detect the roiling turmoil which in reality exists beneath the façade.

It is a Sunday morning when the patient is informed that a decision has been made to free him from this prison. “Mr. Whosis, you have been deemed well and will be released into the care of the halfway home nearby. After you spend a few months there you will be free to leave and resume a normal life, isn’t that exciting?” explains the attending doctor. Allen’s face displays a wide grin totally masking the screams inside his head, imploring the doctors not to make this mistake, begging them to change their minds.

Monday morning comes and finds Allen traveling in a plain, unassuming sedan on his way to his new “home”. The two attendants babble to each other engaged in small talk. Allen is oblivious to their voices, as inside his head he is screaming, begging them to take him back to his padded cell. His face expressionless, his countenance calm, the attendants drive on unaware of the bomb within his head that is so close to exploding.

His restraining hand ties removed, he is walked up to the house; everything is, it appears, as it should be. A man greets them at the door, a man who introduces himself as ‘buddy’, how appropriate. “My buddy, my friend, how nice,” Speaks the voice within his head. “Shut up, shut the hell up” responds Allen silently, without an outward sign of his rage.

Sitting at a table with ‘buddy’, Allen is the picture of sobriety, a calm and quiet man of even temper. “I think you will fit in nicely, Allen, we have a nice room on the second floor all ready for you to move in. Later, once you are situated we will take you out and find some clothes and other amenities to make your room, your home,” Speaks buddy with complete confidence in his voice, a genial man, a gentle man, who has greeted many others like Allen before. “What a dupe, what a pushover, this man will be,” the voice in Allen’s head exclaims. “You better not, you monster, I’ll … I’ll …,” responds Allen, silently, of course. “You’ll what? You can’t do anything to me. After all, I’m you,” Is the curt reply.

Alone in his room Allen rests on the edge of his bed. He clinches the pillow securely with his hands, attempts to strangle the life out of it, and then begins to cry. The sobs are silent, as the beast within does not allow a sound to emerge that might betray its presence.

That night, after he showers, brushes his teeth, and turns in Allen decides to confront this thing, this creature, this beast, which has made his life a living hell. “Who are you, what are you, you lecherous thing. Why do you torment me?!” he shouts into the darkness of his head. “As you were told before, I’m you,” Is the reply. “What is your name, monster?” For moments silence reigns, then the voice speaks, “You know my name, you sign it on many documents, along with yours. You are Allen, I am Whosis.” With that revelation Allen sinks into a tormented sleep, a nightmarish sleep, images follow, where the creature, the monster, is clearly seen. A beast appearing as an animal, complete with the traditional horns protruding from its head. A head like some horse, or camel, or some other unreal thing adorns its body. Sharp claws, glinting light from some fiery source nearby, frightfully curve from its hands, or paws, or whatever things jut from its arms. As many devils are accompanied by smells of sulfur, so it is with this one as well. “Welcome to my abode, Allen, glad you could drop by,” speaks the thing in low guttural tones. Allen awakes immediately upon realizing it had noticed his presence. Sweaty, highly agitated, he knows that no more sleep will come his way tonight.

Morning finds Allen ushered into breakfast, a breakfast shared with seven others plus the host, his new friend ‘buddy’.

“Allen, I have a surprise for you, someone I know has offered to provide you with employment. He has offered you an apprentice position with training in his plant. All you have to do is say yes, and you will have a job,” buddy, beaming, reports.

Startled, Allen hears himself speak, “Why of course, I will accept his generous offer” The monster has seized control of his body. Allen tries very hard to reveal the truth to these innocents at the table, but instead, merely mirrors the smile on buddy’s face.

“We’ll finish our breakfast and then I will take you down to see him right away,” buddy, pleased with the answer, offers.

As Allen, in the privacy of his room, prepares for his trip to the potential job offer, he rages within with the monster. “Why are you doing this, what plans do you have in mind?! Let me go!” he shouts, in silence. “I don’t know yet, Allen, I’ll be making this up as we go. I’m sure it will be fun, though,” the beast mocks.
People Who Bother Me … August 5, 2013

2013/08/04

Have you ever met a person, alive in all the physical ways, but dead inside? These are the people who drain you emotionally, distress you, bore you. For example, over my life I have had numerous hobbies, one in particular was the making of my own comic books. Almost to the person, people I have allowed to see my work, or mentioned my endeavor to, have inevitably asked why I would do it. Does it make you any money they would ask. Does it improve your skills which can be offered to an employer. It’s a hobby for crying out loud, not a job.

Work, work, work, no time for leisure. From sun up to sun down these people, these burned out shells of human beings, do nothing but that which garners them income, or some means to earn more. They have no hobbies unless they provide some means to increase their wealth. Children, if they have them, are an investment, a tax deduction, forced to emulate their parents, or pushed into service should the parents be self-employed. Children who soon die inside, seeing work as their only purpose. To live is to work, living in and of itself seen as something to avoid.

Sometimes I wonder if these people, perpetually busy, are simply afraid to pause a minute for inner reflection. To discover that one is shallow and devoid within and possessing nothing to reflect upon would be depressing. To face oneself, and find oneself wanting, disappointing. Automatons would suffice to replace such people. They are in fact organic automatons. If you try to talk to them you find that any topic outside of, not related to work, is avoided.

Simple indulgences, like viewing the stars at night, instead of being a time of wonder for these automatons is considered either a waste of time, or is mutated into some science lesson. To express awe and wonder is beyond these empty shells. A bicycle ride for them is not a pleasant outing, instead it becomes an intensive training exercise, to keep them healthy so that they will be more capable of doing more work. They surely are an employer’s dream.

The human psyche needs, I think, moments of physical idleness, moments to think. An appreciation for one’s state in life cannot be developed without reflection.

I have had to work twelve hour days. I know the fatigue, the heavy brow, the slothful shuffle after such days, when it is a even a chore to brush your teeth before bed. I know the dread generated from the knowledge that tomorrow will be the same. You look forward to a weekend earned, a happiness tempered from the realization that it is just a pause between the week you have just survived and the next. Life is so short, does it have to be like this? Retirement becomes a treasured goal. Even so, there are employers, and people, who would deny you that. Corporations, big and small, would rather have willing slaves whose only desire is to work until they drop. Employment offices become merely Human Resources offices. If one body falls you simply replace it with another.

There are other types of people who bother me, but these workaholics bother me most. These automatons who lurch to work each day, whose every waking moment is spent working, if not at the job, at home. These slaves that know not that they are slaves. The perfect employee. Envy them, I do not.
Racism and Reverse Racism… July 31, 2013

2013/07/31
rac·ism/ˈreɪsɪzəm/ Show Spelled [rey-siz-uhm] Show IPA noun
- 1.a belief or doctrine that inherent differences among the various human races determine cultural or individual achievement, usually involving the idea that one’s own race is superior and has the right to rule others.
- 2.a policy, system of government, etc., based upon or fostering such a doctrine; discrimination.
- 3.hatred or intolerance of another race or other races.
Does Reverse Racism exist? Does the word racism suffice to cover the phrase “reverse racism”?

There are many today that attempt to change the meaning of the word racism to mean also the ability to carry out that racism. They claim that if the means to carry out that racism is not available, then it’s not racism. I see nothing in the above definition that erases racism simply because the means to carry it out are not possessed. If an employer uses criteria that favors one race over another in the hiring process it is racism, even if the race effected is the majority. Therefore, it follows that affirmative action, favoring one race over another, is racism. Affirmative action is used to correct inequities in practices formerly favoring the majority. Nevertheless, since it favors one race over another, it is racism. As it is used to reverse past inequities, it follows that it is reverse racism. Reverse Racism therefore exists.

However, the definition does not include the mechanisms, or ability, to carry out the racism. In other words, the fact that the means is included, makes reverse racism possible.

In everyday social interactions only racism exists. All races are capable of racism. I have heard and felt racism expressed by all the races I have encountered, in one form or another. Expressions of superiority have been evident in each race. Racism will continue to exist as long as human beings continue to insist that the term race exists.
The Non-Post …. July 29, 2013

2013/07/28

I have elected not to do a post this week as it is vacation time. Sorry, but everyone needs a vacation once in a while.

Vacation… a time for relaxation, a time of being with family and doing those things for which time is usually unavailable.

Ever dream of the the ideal vacation. We had one in 1996. We took a wad of money and rolled down to Florida. We visited numerous sites including Universal (I would recommend a visit to Universal to everyone, when they say 3D, they mean it), the Kennedy Space Center, and floated down the pristine appearing waters at Silver Springs. We visited a large flea market in the Ocala area. During this time we experienced the most ferocious thunderstorm I had ever seen. Lightning in Florida is an adventure in itself.

At one point in our visit I remarked to the family that this vacation would probably be the only one we would enjoy as a family. Disregarding a trip we had made a few years before to West Point, which was to see family there, it turned out to be true. It was the only memorable vacation we really had.

My advice is don’t wait for when the time is available to take that vacation of a lifetime, make time. The years pass so quickly the moment may be lost before you know it. The kids, will not be kids forever.

Whoops! Seems I have made a post after-all.
He’ll Be Coming ‘Round the Corner When He Comes… July 22, 2013

2013/07/21

I came across a question the other day, it was on the cover of a book, I think. It asked if the end times were ever going to end. This question was directed towards Christians.

Christians have believed since Jesus’ supposed time that Jesus was returning any day now to rescue them. Despite the fact that the Bible indicates Jesus meant that he would return during the lifetimes of many attending his sermons, and that he has never returned, you can hear Christians even today, two thousand years later, exclaim that his return is imminent, just another day or so away. So don’t be naughty, be nice, do everything right, for Jesus… is coming to town… any day now.

It has become a standard comic relief portrayal in movies predicting doom, like 2012, to see some bearded long-haired human wreck holding a sign proclaiming the ‘end is near’.

Even if there were a God, and the Bible was His word, no Christian can be sure that their ultimate destination is heaven. Not because Jesus did not promise it, but because they cannot be sure that they haven’t broken some infinitesimal rule, or displeased their emotionally unstable God in some way. Perhaps they were inadvertently nice to someone they should not have been. Maybe they didn’t stone someone God wanted them so very much to smote. Maybe they saw some guy or gal they admired and had a mental fantasy. Whoops, instant highway to hell.

Analyzing this, one wonders if it is all some form of façade. They claim to want the end of the world to occur, yet, it is only part of the veneer, a display to egg the audience on. How can anyone who is a human being, especially a parent (why bother having children?), wish the end of humanity? Such an individual would be a candidate for Bellevue for sure. Imagine the crazed mental state of someone desiring the violent destruction of mankind.

Yet, when you see the works of those who claim to believe, as they attain office in governments, you see some of the callousness such deity belief would produce. Policies are formulated on short term not long term schedules. After all, who needs to preserve the environment when… Jesus is just right around the corner, on his way. Why do anything to alleviate the misery of the poor, Jesus will rescue them shortly. Besides, suffering is good for the soul.

Christians will always proclaim that doomsday is coming and is imminent. How else to entice the followers into action than to promise their holy reward will soon be realized.

So, will the end times ever come to an end? No, Christianity must maintain a perpetual end time scenario. The end, the reward, being just out of reach. The invoice for this reward to be paid by the rest of humanity, no doubt, in advance.
The Race-Baiters … July 17, 2013

2013/07/17

There had to be several thousand people in the street where George Zimmerman shot Trayvon Martin. Maybe the figure is closer to several million when you see how everybody’s so sure what happened there as expressed on Facebook.

The media, using a photograph several years old, have portrayed Martin as an angelic child. There is much information from many sources on the internet indicating that this was not the case.

George Zimmerman has a past, that is true. Just as Trayvon Martin has a past. Neither can make claim to the title of perfection that the media has built for Martin.

George Zimmerman was a neighborhood watch captain. Trayvon Martin was in the neighborhood wearing a hood over his head. Suspicion of anyone wearing such apparel is natural. (My son was stopped in my neighborhood by the police and questioned. He too was wearing a hood)

George Zimmerman had a gun. Why a neighborhood watch member, captain or otherwise, should have a gun is a good question. If he had a permit, then he had the right to carry a gun.

Despite the lack of information which can be proven, despite the lack of clarity, there have been many who have made this into a white vs. black racial event. They pound relentlessly presenting the same arguments that have no foundation in an effort to turn this event into hatred. This is also despite that George Zimmerman may be Hispanic.

These people are doing more to destroy the struggle for racial equality than a million racists could ever do.
Marblehead, Ohio July 13, 2013

2013/07/15

At the suggestion of my brother, who decided to stay in bed instead, my wife and I went up to Marblehead, Ohio. There we saw the Marblehead lighthouse, the oldest continuously operating lighthouse in existence.

From the shores of the Marblehead Lighthouse State Park you can see several well known nearby attractions.

Pictured here is Cedar Point as seen to the south.

Although a nearby outcropping of rock obscures the island itself, Put-In-Bay’s Perry Monument is visible in the distance. Put-In-Bay, named after the bay, is also known as South Bass Island.

Seen in the distance, behind a couple of sailboats is Kelly’s Island.

All-in-all it was a great outing. We rode our 2009 SilverWing up to Marblehead. Though I admit the Marblehead Lighthouse was a nice place to see, with a good breeze blowing off the lake, I also admit it was mostly about the ride.

http://youtu.be/imKzQX3CKvM
With the Push of a Button…. July 15, 2013

2013/07/14

Technology is moving forward at a brisk pace. The integration of the human brain and the computer may be around the corner. While this technology will be too late for the likes of me, I can at least dream of the improvements that may be possible with such an integration.

Of course there is the possibility of misuse of this technology, just as all technology has that potential. For this post I will ignore those scenarios and concentrate on the pluses such artificial improvements may portend.

For many years I have fretted over the lack within the human brain of a suitable deletion feature. Over the years there have been many embarrassing incidents (probably no more than any one else) which I would rather dismiss, but instead hang on and rile my brain at the most inconvenient times. Though I would rather retain the learning featured in most of these events the emotional distress could be deleted without any objection by me. This habit of the brain to run these memories over and over complete with irritating embarrassment, though remarkable, does use up an excess of mental resources which could be utilized in a more productive fashion. Yes, a deletion command totally at the discretion of the individual, would be most useful. Memories of incidents that grit one’s teeth and anger the mind could be selectively erased; stress can thus be lowered, and concentration upon more meaningful endeavors focused more precisely. Irrational hatred, envy, and jealousy could be simply dismissed, deleted away. Agreements for peace on the world scene would more easily come about without personal differences and dislikes barring the way.

There are many other technological breakthroughs that may be less than a hundred years away. Computer and brain enhancements that expand memory and learning will enable the future science fiction writers envision. Sometimes I experience the feeling of being born too early. Yet, we are all the stuff from which the future is built. If you were not where you are in time, someone else would have had to be there from which the future would be built. Even if we can’t be in the time we would like at least we can still imagine…..
Flood Control … July 11, 2013

2013/07/11

The Army Corp of Engineers developed man-made lakes for the purposes of flood control. Due to recent rains the dams on these lakes had to be partially closed to limit the flow of water downstream. Both Mifflin Lake and Pleasant Hill lake were developed for these flood control purposes. Charles Mill Dam was constructed in 1935 and 1936 and is primarily for flood control but also for recreation and fish and wildlife management. Pleasant Hill Lake, situated in Richland and Ashland counties near Loudonville in Mohican Country, is one of central Ohio’s top boating and outdoor attractions. Managed by the Muskingum Watershed Conservancy District, the lake was constructed in the 1930s for flood reduction and water conservation, but has turned into an outdoor recreational paradise.

This picture was taken yesterday at a parking area just off Route 430 in Mifflin.

This shot, taken today shows that the water levels have risen several feet.

The dock at this location, the parking area off Route 430 in Mifflin, is now about 20 or so feet out in the water. Nevertheless, this boater is determined to enjoy the day.

This is a picture of a river that flows under a bridge near Pleasant Hill Dam. I took it two days ago.

Today that river has risen over its banks.

This picture, taken at Pleasant Hill Dam shows a level of 66 feet. I was told this was 16 feet above the normal level. It was expected to rise another foot. Normally you would be able to see the openings where water would flow in.

I tried to get into the Park at Pleasant Hill Lake but they were not allowing anyone to enter except for the purposes of removing boats, requiring a pass.
Well, Bread Doesn’t Stay Fresh Forever… July 10, 2013

2013/07/10

Racing forward, pedal to the metal, a Nickle’s Bread Truck surges on.

It doesn’t matter if life and limb is at risk, all that matters is that this juggernaut attain a position at least one car length ahead of where it was.

Racing up State Route 13 South, towards Mansfield, sitting nearly on the bumper of the car in front, the truck barrels on. The poor guy, seeing the grill of the truck in his mirror, has to get over simply to avoid the urgent delivery of baked goods. Someone, somewhere, needs a sandwich.

The date is July 5, 2013, and once again I have the feeling of having just barely escaped another tragic mishap. Drivers everywhere seem to have forgotten that the speed limits are meant for them, not just everyone else.

I will never understand the dire urgency of being one car length beyond where you were. It never fails though, be it bread trucks, SUV, or auto, there is always some jerk who feels they must be at the head of the line even if it costs them or someone else their life.

Has the expiration date on bread gotten shorter?

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