TURN ON
COMPUTER // TUNE IN TO FREED SPIRIT OF INTERNET // TAKE OVER!
“You’re the best reporting journalist my friends and I ever saw
- please persevere, and many blessings on you.” Brooks, Hawaii.
==== TODAY THE UP!S CIRCULATION PASSES 14,000 ===
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6 months ago i stated that it was now reasonable & timely to accept that iraq had been better off under saddam. well, you could have argued the point then, BUT SURELY NOBODY COULD DISAGREE NOW!
those who initiated or supported that disgraceful invasion have been party to that country’s utter destruction. and, except under one condition, i Curse you for it. the condition is that you put your Self on the backburner, double your efforts to innerstand what is REALLY going on in this world, and redouble your efforts to resist the Evil smartyboots Ignorance which threatens us all.
UP!
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u cant understand the world without innerstanding yourself
the up! 0028 // 02, 06
la- la- la- lap-toppling da system!
Friends And Fixtures, Farewell
u cant innerstand yourself without understanding the world
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.. contents...
p.02 Ex-Hippy To Spend Google's Millions
p.06 Friends and Fixtures Farewell another spirit-thrilling extract from megatripolis@forever
p.09 Artist Michael Bowen Flees The American Dino, Discovers Civilisation In Europe, And Escapes Big Pharm’s Narco-Dream
p.11 MILLION WESTERN SOLDIERS CONDEMNED TO SICKNESS & DEATH
p.14 The Flying Saucer’s Apprentice PART THREE by David Robert Lewis
"I'm just a guy... Jesus was just a guy, too, of course."
UP!
Ex-Hippy To Spend Google's Millions
The Times February 23, 2006
LARRY BRILLIANT would never have been appointed head of Google’s charity unit had a mischievous guru not thrown apples at the American as he was meditating at an Indian ashram in the 1970s.
Dr Brilliant was picked yesterday to run Google.org’s charitable foundation. The 61-year-old former hippy was drawn to Google after he read the company’s “Don’t be evil” motto in its float prospectus last year and has spent the past 6 months in talks with the founders about how best to use the foundation’s cash for charitable causes.
Sergei Brin and Larry Page, Google’s founders, chose the unconventional doctor, who was once a personal physician to members of the Grateful Dead, the psychedelic rock band, because they seek to do “good not evil” with their new-found billions.
On paper, the trained physician and former leading light in the World Health Organisation (WHO) is the perfect candidate. He is a child of the Sixties who travelled from Woodstock to India and back in search of enlightenment and who ended up leading the campaign to eradicate smallpox in the sub-continent. At the same time he is a pioneer in California’s Silicon Valley, where he has used the money he made to build a big, successful Third World health charity.
Google.org is a jumble of well-meaning charitable funds and foundations started almost on an ad hoc basis by the Google founders. Dr Brilliant’s mission is to bring them together and to define their “mission and strategic goals”.
Dr Brilliant said: “I have great admiration for Google’s technical contributions to society and believe that it can make an equally great impression through philanthropy.”
The doctor lived a fairly conventional existence as a philosophy student, but turned to medicine after he found out his father was dying of cancer. In 1970, aged 26, he also had cancer diagnosed. He took time off and became involved with the psychedelic movement. After starring in the film sequel to Woodstock, he was paid by Warner Brothers in Indian Airline tickets and left America to seek enlightenment at an ashram.
However, his guru would not let him meditate in peace, throwing apples at him every time he was spotted in the lotus position.
>> he was trying too hard, see? too ‘hardworking’.
The guru, Neem Karoli Baba, told him that instead he should help to save India from a smallpox epidemic. After years of persistence, he led a 100,000-strong team of WHO doctors that vaccinated the entire country.
More recently, Dr Brilliant founded The Well, a pioneering internet community that helped to start the revolution that created companies such as Yahoo!, Google and eBay.
UP!
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there is not a single person on this planet who is a Holocaust Denier. not one, despite all the organised propaganda that has, at great expense, been daily dripped into our minds.
many, and increasing daily, question the actual number killed but NOBODY denies that a large number of jews were horribly killed. whether it was more (or worse) than the current Iraqi Holocaust or the African Holocaust or the American Indian Holocaust is for history to decide and for free & open debate to inform. interestingly, the Ignorance involved in these other examples has consistently under-estimated the numbers killed.
(believe me, since it’s maybe even the single biggest Holy Cow on the planet today and obviously a suitable target for the UP!, i did a long search on this subject. but it turned out too long to publish here, and too heated and confused to be worth the hassle involved in making it public - by which i mean the organised jewish fanatics who take potshots at anyone who raises their head above the parapet - ask ken livingstoned! but i’ll send it to anyone who would like to know some more FACTS on this whole issue.)
and there is one more issue, which you might wish to call Holocaust Denial. and that is whether there actually was a deliberate organised campaign to specifically eradicate jews. what about the gypsies, gays and all the others, were they sort of accidentally swept up along with the Overall Objective? weren’t the jews mostly used as industrial slaves and worked to death, i mean weren’t they more use to the efficient germans alive? you could, you see, argue whether the Slaves, Savages and Insurgents were killed as a policy or not, ask yourself what YOU think :)
UP!
Bush in India: Not Welcome
Arundhati Roy
On his triumphalist tour of India and Pakistan, where he hopes to wave imperiously at people he considers potential subjects, President Bush has an itinerary that's getting curiouser and curiouser.
Plan One for his March 2 pit stop in New Delhi was to have him address parliament, but when a not inconsequential number of MPs threatened to heckle him, it was hastily shelved.
Plan Two was for him to address the masses from the ramparts of the magnificent Red Fort, where the Indian prime minister traditionally delivers his Independence Day address. But, surrounded as it is by the predominantly Muslim population of Old Delhi, it was considered a security nightmare.
So now we're into Plan Three: he speaks from Purana Qila, the Old Fort.
Ironic, no? The only safe public space for a man who’s recently been so enthusiastic about India's modernity is a crumbling medieval fort!
Since the Purana Qila also houses the Delhi zoo, his audience will be a few hundred caged animals and an approved list of caged "eminent persons." They're mostly rich folk who live in our poor country like captive animals, incarcerated by their own wealth, locked and barred in their gilded cages, protecting themselves from the threat of the vulgar and unruly multitudes whom they’ve systematically dispossessed over the centuries.
Will the gorillas cheer him on, the gibbons curl their lips, the brow-antlered deer sneer, the chimps make rude noises, the owls hoot, the lions yawn and the giraffes bat their beautiful eyelashes? Will the crocs recognise a kindred soul? Will the CEOs agree?
>> u bet!
But worse is to come. Bush will be taken to visit Gandhi's memorial in Rajghat. He's not the only war criminal the Indian government has invited to lay flowers at Rajghat - recently we had the Burmese dictator General Than Shwe, no shrinking violet himself. But when Bush places flowers on that famous slab of highly polished stone, millions of Indians will wince. It will be as though he’s poured a pint of blood on Gandhi’s memory.
We really would prefer that he didn't. George W. Bush, the President of the United States of America, world nightmare incarnate, is just not welcome.
UP!
Big Decision To Make? Sleep Onnit, or Have A Puff
New York Times Feb 21, 2006
Dutch psychologists found that people struggling to make complex decisions did best when they were distracted and were unable to think consciously about the choice. The research not only backs up the common advice to "sleep on it" when facing difficult choices, but it also suggests that the unconscious brain can actively reason as well.
http://www.kurzweilai.net/email/newsRedirect.html?newsID=5323&m=5435
up!
Rats In A Maze Take A Moment To Remember, But In Reverse
When rats pause in running through a maze, they play back their memory of points along their route, but in reverse order. The discovery may provide a deep insight into how memory works in humans. The reverse replay mechanism seems to be part of a neural editing process in which memories are selected, combined and stored as a set of edited...
http://www.kurzweilai.net/email/newsRedirect.html?newsID=5299&m=5435
up!
How to Survive a Robot Uprising
In a new book by that name, roboticist Daniel H. Wilson offers humorous advice on evading and outsmarting robots as a literary device to combat dystopian robot scenarios while serving as a state-of-the-art robotics primer.
http://www.kurzweilai.net/email/newsRedirect.html?newsID=5298&m=5435
up!
Remember To Smell The Flowers As You Carry Your Load
A water bearer in China had two large pots, each hung on the ends of a pole which he carried across his neck. One of the pots had a crack in it while the other pot was perfect and always delivered a full portion of water. At the end of the long walk from the stream to the house, the cracked pot arrived only half full.
For a full two years this went on daily, with the bearer delivering only one and a half pots of water to his house.
Of course, the perfect pot was proud of its accomplishments, for which it was made. But the poor cracked pot was ashamed of its own imperfection, and miserable that it was able to accomplish only half of what it had been made to do.
One day, after two years of “bitter failure”, it spoke to the water bearer by the stream. "I am ashamed of myself, because this crack in my side causes water to leak out all the way back to your house".
The bearer replied, "Did you notice that there are flowers on your side of the path, but not on the other side? That's because, knowing about your flaw, I planted flower seeds on your side of the path, and every day while we walk back, you water them. For two years I ‘ve been able to pick these beautiful flowers to decorate the table. Without you being just the way you are, there would not be this beauty to grace the house."
We each have our own unique flaw. But it's these flaws that make our lives together so interesting and rewarding! You've just got to take each person for what they are and find the good in them.
To all of my crackpot friends, have a great day, and thanks for all the flowers!
[thanks to philthi mckeswick]
UP!
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TEXT JOCKEY // TJ PHRASER (Fraser Clark) & THE MEDIA EVOLUTION
MIXING THE TRACTS LIVE ON THE KEYBOARD
@ A MEDIA-MEME RATE OF 160 IPP *
* Ideas Per Paragraph
TO SUBSCRIBE SOMEONE, WRITE I wanna get UP! TO fraser@parallel-youniversity.com
TO UNSUBSCRIBE, HIT REPLY WITH REMOVE IN THE SUBJECT BOX
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__,,,,_{ô¿ô}_,,,,__ the caravanserai* club
* a hostelry with spacious courtyards where camel caravans put up.
Late April Late May - Sahara Desert + Atlas Mountains, Morocco.
(keep this handy in case u suddenly get that feeling: i gotta get outa here!)
when i stopped putting on public edutainments, i started taking little trips abroad for my health, sanity, and natural curiosity. at first i went alone, tho i tried to persuade a cuppla frens, but you know how frens can b!
then, 2 years ago, a buddy came with me to spain. in malta that spring 3 people were with me. in August in croatia there were 5! and in Greece last Spring there were 7 of us! and of course people join us along the way.
with morocco this spring, because it’s so near and familiar, it looks like there could be 10-20 people coming along! imagine!
it’s a new kinda clubbing, travel clubbing, which i've called the Caravanserai Club. it goes away once or twice a year, during off-peak. i announce a great city in a foreign country that's not too expensive to get to, and anybody who wants to comes along, independently!
more details over next few weeks
YOU DO NOT NEED TO INFORM ANYONE THAT U R COMING, BUT, IF U LIKE, CONTACT ME AT:
fraser@parallel-youniversity.com
UP!
Making Our Own Heaven
by Henry Makow Ph.D.
The world often seems like a stuffy public toilet without ventilation.
This is because Protagorus' dictum "Man Is The Measure Of All Things" is the official religion.
Modern culture mostly consists of reflections of our degenerate selves, a "wilderness of mirrors" as T.S. Eliot said.
>> a guy who worked for a bank most of his life and read greek.
We inhale our own fumes.
The religion of man is "humanism "or "illuminism."
Plato tried to correct Protagorus. "God and not man is the measure of all things."
We didn't listen to Plato.
>> correction: most of humanity did and still do. it’s the elite who didn’t.
God is now banished from public life. When was the last time a Divine Standard was applied to anything? That would be like a breath of fresh air.
>> i’d call it an Objective Standard. and megatripolis{@forever is exactly that breath of fresh air!
J. Edgar Hoover said, "The individual is handicapped by coming face-to-face with a "conspiracy so monstrous he cannot believe it exists."
The Illuminati, a Luciferian secret society, the highest echelon of Freemasonry, controls the world. (That's their logo on the US dollar with the words "we did it!" in Latin.)
Lucifer represents man's rebellion against natural and moral laws i.e. God's design. The Luciferians are very rich. They need to short circuit God's plan in order to impose their "New World Order."
We are being inducted into a Luciferian cult via the mass media and education. It promotes our animal instincts because we are to be their cattle and servants.
The Illuminati have declared war on God and the human race. We are cannon fodder, human sacrifice.
The human race has suffered more than enough duplicity and degradation to justify revolt. But we have been programmed by occult magicians to accept our suffering as inevitable, necessary and even heroic.
http://savethemales.ca/
BUT GET YOUR TIMEDANCING SHOES ON!
Friends and Fixtures Farewell
AN EXTRACT FROM
megatripolis@forever
the out-of-your-head-breaking futurist e-novella
from club saviour Fraser Clark
THE STORY SO FAR
Nothing has yet happened, except that time has been running so long it must have almost run out - or so most people thought at the time of the following Primal Event.
The citizens of Megatripolis, the Future Perfect State, to which our species finally evolved, spend much of their lives exploring their historical roots (what else to do?)
By far the most popular tourist sites in their History are the 2/3 Cusp Virtual Leap Era in the Over-Developed West area of the original planet Earth, and Cleopatra's time in Egypt (mostly elderly ladies, though everyone's been back there at least once).
However, the younger, hipper Megatripolitans have recently got caught up in a new craze, that of re-living the previous time-dances of the early and even pre-Megatripolitans.
The following, the single most visited life, is the very first such journey, lived by Captain Pilgrim Buchanan, whose well-documented Time- explorations, with other Knights Temporal, employing the Nectar Chip, later played such a pivotal role in securing the original state of Megatripolis in time, if still not yet in space.
NOTE: early time-trips were very approximate affairs, and many overlaps with the YOUniversal Unconscious and beyonditall@singularity occurred which no effort by GodThrong@Service.Org can totally eliminate.
NOW READ ON.
After Victor/Caleb-to-be beamed out his Honesty Path rap, events began to accelerate. Though we’d now secured our position by altering an insignificant detail in History [I’m now aware how non-insignificant our tinkering had been!] the Concrete Boys were unquestionably getting closer with every hour we hung around this time space. Lady Anne had dreamed they’d broken down her door the night before, and naturally we knights took such dreams most seriously.
Of course we were worried for ourselves, but we were much more worried that they would find Victor too soon! For this man’s mind was crucial - both for the Future, and for our own search for a “Left Hand Path” to Megatripolis. The Concrete Boys must not trace him!
And we were preparing for our next Chip when a truly amazing ‘event’ occurred. A Time-Shattering Event! An email, titled ‘GOD SOS’, appeared on Victor’s screen! He had created us! Such was the conclusion we jumped to. He had created a future that included us!
From the point of view of our own research, of course, our working assumption had been proved correct! Whether conscious of it or not, Victor knew about the Future Perfect State! Perhaps he was even one of those early castaway Megatripolitans they speak of who got stranded in history.
Despite the Massive Risk of being spotted, instead of chipping out of then we plugged our equipment in and initiated preparations for entering Victor’s psychic space. We absolutely could not let such a chance go by, and could only pray that going into him might actually help us ‘disappear’.
Which is when the second, this time totally terrifying, Event occurred. We had double-spliced the primary cortex of Victor’s Imagination circuits, using the limited supplies in our tool box, with the central channel from/to YOUniversal@superconscious, and Morningstar was in the very act of making a test run connection of this complex to the Higher Emotional Brain (technically a fractal within his physical brain) when suddenly, with a sound like the puncturing of membrane in the very fabric of space/Time, the Concrete Boys were upon us!
Three of them, all in Male bodies. One had chosen to look like Darth Vader. The second was a Viking chieftain. And the third embodied this grotesquely ugly, spiked blob such as Chad the Cynic might have created. They were amazingly fast too. In the micronan it took us to digitalise their virtual bodies, they’d stripped us of our actual personal information. Age, height, weight, hair and eye colour - they’d recorded them already! Sensors, indeed, were nibbling my chest measurements and inserting themselves into my DNA when Prince Rupert cloaked me with a hearty “All For One And Free for All!” before whirling round to project pure streams of mystical invective in their direction:
“MEGATRIPOLIS FOREVER! POWER TO THE ANCESTORS! We’re all children of the one Great Cell, right, and, when you drop all the competition, don’t you just feeeel it?! Love really IS the answer, man! Myth embodies the nearest approach to absolute truth that can be stated in words, you actually know this. The only..”
It was working! While the Boyos hesitated, confused by being unable to register anything “factual and quantitative” in the Prince’s stream of consciousness, my wits were recovering. My chest measurements returned to privacy. And my UC password! My god, they’d even grabbed that! Meanwhile Morningstar was giving them her own kind of (subtler) blast:
“Come, my Sweet Brothers, let’s make love beneath these stars of infinite space, we can do it if we try, why not? nobody will know! here we are, we all really want to… it’s in our natures, so why not? oh yeah, feel these soft breasts… and here… Love, Love, Love IS the Answer...”
They were falling back in disorder! They’d programmed and kitted themselves for Battle and were getting Love; unprepared, threatened, they oozed back behind the event horizon. They’d learn a lesson, obviously, and would return with a re-jigged attacktic while we, equally, would hang even looser still, and surf each moment’s spontaneity to counteract it. Neither of us dared allow ourselves to contemplate whether Order or Chaos was the fabric of Infinity. But clearly Chaos is the Infinite, I see that unambiguously when the Concrete is far behind me.
Talk about shocked, I’d been rooted to the spot like a rabbit in headlights. To have lost, even for a moment, my chest measurements to Eternity’s guardians sent deep icy shivers up and down my chakras.
And yet, as so often in a Knight Temporal’s life, Fate’s acceleration necessitated that this sink into me in delayed reaction form, only to be allowed out under the bed clothes or in the privacy of the toilet.
FOR YET ANOTHER ‘SOMETHING’ HAD MANIFESTED THAT BROKE EVERY TENET OF OUR OWN MIND SETS!
The Old Man is just an ordinary God!
In the Beginning, in the first crystallisation to drip from beyonditall@singularity, when all the gods lay stunned on clouds, the Old Man had woken first.
Instantly grokking the situation, He then stirred each of the others to welcome Him or Her to “My Place,” and explained that He’d chosen them to be “My Arch Angels”. “You’ll be in charge of the winds,” “You’ll govern the Oceans” Sol was put in charge of Earth’s central heating and fecundity.
Lucy’s resistance group begin a campaign to stir up a rebellion. The Megatripolitans are the first to join because, though they’ve claimed back the right to self perfection, the Old Man is refusing everyone their right to Eternity.
[ends]
up!
Digital Books Start A New Chapter
BusinessWeek, Feb. 27, 2006
Lighter devices, better displays, and the iPod craze could make digital books best-sellers!!!
Portable devices are becoming lighter and more appealing. Books are being scanned into digital form by the thousands. The most important step forward may be in "digital ink," the technology used for displaying letters on a screen.
E Ink has created a method for arranging tiny black and white capsules into words and images with an electronic charge. Because no power is used unless the reader changes the page, devices with the technology could go as long as 20 books between battery charges. The text also looks just as sharp as ink on a printed page, since each capsule is the size and pigment of a grain of laser-jet toner.
up!
Walter Cronkite: "With police wielding unprecedented powers to invade privacy, tap phones and conduct searches seemingly at random, our civil liberties are in a very precarious condition.
"Amid the clichés of the drug war, our country has lost sight of the scientific facts. Amid the frantic rhetoric of our leaders, we've become blind to reality: The war on drugs, as it is currently fought, is too expensive, and too inhumane.
"But nothing will change until someone has the courage to stand up and say what so many politicians privately know: The war on drugs has failed."
http://www.drugpolicy.org
UP!
Artist Michael Bowen Flees The American Dino, Discovers Civilisation In Europe,
And Escapes Big Pharm’s Narco-Dream
I was born the last month of 1937. Soon the usa corporate war freaks got very rich on ww2, and it wasn’t long before the corporate boys created a ghastly Wagnerian tangle of suffering that nobody ever needed anyway.
In 1940 I got a nasty touch of polio. I lived in Beverly Hills, my playmates were the sons of the war lovers. During the polio years my life was saved from the medical doctors’ ideas that I should live in an iron lung and die. My doctor father and my Vedanta practising grandmother killed the polio virus by raising my temperature to a huge degree. The corporate doctors who were experimenting with putting people in horrible iron lungs didn’t like what my father did. Even though it saved my life.
By the time I could play again I had learned I had to start thinking on my feet early in life. I wanted to be an artist and nothing else. Laying flat on my back for 2 years with polio made my brain flow around in art thought soup. I grew up reading all the racist junk about the sneaky Japs and the happy tap dancing Negroes. Somehow none of it made sense. The black people were definitely not happy and the Japanese made incredible art. I found that in my father’s library.
Besides, my playmates Gary and Lindsey Crosby were miserable in their dad’s mansion near ours. Gary killed himself later on. I had to escape from Beverly Hills. I had a plan. Join the air force and be a normal artist. I thought that might be too nuts for them and they’d throw me out. I was 17, my mother was drunk every day because Uncle Benjie was dead. Assassinated at mom’s girl friend’s house, Virginia Hill, who lived around the corner.
Mom signed the papers and I was in the air force. I was too nutty for them and they did kick me out. I was then free of the Korean War draft and free to be an artist. I moved in with the now world famous Ed Kienholz the assemblagist. He taught me how to survive even when my back hurt. I left Beverly Hills for good. Ed and I paid 7 dollars a month rent for a shack in an L.A. alley. I began to paint.
After a year I got tired of eating white bread and tomato soup raw from a can and started living with John Carradine’s wife. She bought me a new Cadillac convertible. She divorced the great actor who drank so much scotch with barbiturates that he thought he was in Spain if the sun came out. We moved to romantic San Francisco. On the way to San Francisco we stopped to see my dad who was living in Uncle Benjie’s old house in Las Vegas. Dad sent me out to one of his friend’s casinos so he could have a “talk” with my new bride.
We found a house in San Francisco. One day Sonia told me she’d had sex with my dad that night in Vegas to make the family closer. She was also pregnant; to this day we don’t know if my oldest son is my son or my brother. For some reason none of this seemed odd. After all I was finally in San Francisco. There was something about San Francisco that always enchanted me. My mother had a boyfriend that I loved too. He built the Flamingo hotel, and casino in Vegas and really started the town. I first learned about San Francisco when uncle Benji, mom and I drove up the California coast to the city to see some of uncle Benjie's buildings there.
Sonia and I and little Michael were happy in San Francisco but, eventually, it was just me in the City. I painted every day. When the Beat generation arrived I was already in it. We decided to change the world by living the bill of rights. The corporate fascists didn’t like that, so they tried to kill us and drive us away. They lost and we won. We changed the world. I loved painting and I worked hard at it.
My body started to hurt all the time. I went to some doctors. they didn’t do anything except give me pills that made me work harder. My body hurt more. Finally in the 70s and 80s people who had polio and lived started getting it again in weird ways. Doctors kept giving me more pills. One, without any tests, trades for my paintings. In other words I gave him paintings and he said I had this new disease that everybody who ever had polio got. He called it Post Polio Syndrome. I gave him paintings he gave me pills. But these pills were different. They made me feel great. I could work as much as I wanted and never hurt. Later I found out the pills were called oxycontin. And it was just like morphine. You took them and you didn’t hurt so I took them and gave the dr more paintings. The doctor’s office was a corporate office. Soon it had a lot of paintings.
I was showing at the Whitney museum. and museums all over the world. If I forgot to take the pills I would start to get sick, the dr said I needed to take the pills or I would get sick. So I kept taking the pills, and making more paintings, and giving them to the corporate dr. I didn’t hurt but I was afraid of running out of the pills and really getting sick. Once I thought what a rotten thing to do to a Korean veteran. I have to pay 15 hundred dollars every month for the pills or I would get sick. I noticed when a barrel of oil would go up in price so would the pills. I asked a pharmacist if the pills were made of oil. He said no, but when oil goes up so does everything else because of the corporations. This seemed as crazy as everything else in Beverly Hills. Finally I couldn’t stand it anymore. Life became work for oxycontin.
My wife is Italian and our little boy is Italian, this meant we could live in the E.U. I felt safer for my family. In America I couldn’t send my little boy to school because the kids were on crazy pills sold by criminals with guns. He couldn’t learn in a place like that. We sold everything we had and moved to Europe. But now I was addicted to legal narcotics! The dr said I could get the morphine like oxycontin in Europe.
We got on a plane and came to Europe, and in Europe I went to the dr. The dr said you are addicted to narcotics, I said yes, and showed him the paper that said the American dr said he was treating me with narcotics for post polio syndrome.
By this time something had broken in my back and I couldn’t walk anymore. The American dr had said when this started that it’s probably the polio. Probably? It is or it isn’t. The european doctors tested me. They said you need an operation not pills. I said ok. Tests were made. An operation happened.
I have no more pain no matter how hard I work. The Drs Here didn’t want money to operate either. Now I can walk, paint, send my little boy to school. These Drs are not corporate Drs and they are successfully getting me off narcotics which I never needed, because I never had post polio syndrome. I was lied to, for 1500 dollars a month! For a decade!
I think it’s bad to lie to a veteran. Especially one from the Korean war which killed lots of Koreans for corporations while thinking they were making the world safe for democracy and the bill of rights which we Beat artists lived not just read.
Michael Bowen. 2006.
up!
"A nation of sheep will beget a government of wolves." Edward R. Murrow.
up!
“Do not believe in anything simply because you have heard it. Do not believe in anything simply because it is spoken and rumoured by many. Do not believe in anything simply because it is found written in your religious books. Do not believe in anything merely on the authority of your teachers and elders. Do not believe in traditions because they have been handed down for many generations. But after observation and analysis, when you find that anything agrees with reason and is conducive to the good and benefit of one and all, then accept it and live up to it. It is fearlessness, and it is love.” Buddha.
>> why does nobody do cartoons of the buddha? izzit because he genuinely rises above the merely personal?
UP!
“I do enjoy the UP!s, it's a great work you're doing... a sort of extension of the Encyclopaedia Psychedelica for the internet age... All good wishes!” Lokabandhu, UK.
A MILLION WESTERN SOLDIERS
CONDEMNED TO SICKNESS & DEATH
As Scandal Explodes
Why did the US Veterans Affairs Secretary, Anthony Principi, resign recently?
The Preventive Psychiatry Newsletter has written to its subscribers telling them the real reason was he’d been involved in a massive cover-up of the fact that Gulf War Syndrome was caused by the use of depleted uranium, according to the SF Bay View.
In the article Arthur Bernklau, executive director of Veterans for Constitutional Law, wrote that “thousands of our military have suffered and died from depleted uranium which has finally been identified as the cause of this sickness, eliminating the guessing. The terrible truth is now being revealed.”
He goes on to detail several alarming statistics.
The historical disability rate amongst soldiers last century was about 5%, approaching 10% during Vietnam.
Due to the use of depleted uranium in the battlefield, however, 56% of the 580,400 solders who served in Gulf War 1 were on Permanent Medical Disability by 2000.
11,000 Gulf War veterans are already dead.
Now 518,739 Gulf War Veterans, almost all of them, are currently on medical disability.
Principi, under orders from the Bush Administration, had allegedly been covering up the disastrous results of using depleted uranium since 2000.
With so many soldiers having serious health problems it has become impossible to keep secret.
http://www.freemarketnews.com/WorldNews.asp?nid=8018
>> Just read your preview of this piece. All American cities are filling up with ex soldiers living on the street and eating out of the trash, anyone can see it.
michael bowen.
up!
Don’t Care About Bluddy Soldiers And Iraqis Dying?
Well, How About Depleted Uranium Contaminating Europe?!
Dr. Katsuma Yagasaki, a Japanese physicist at the University of the Ryukyus in Okinawa, has estimated that the atomicity equivalent of at least 400,000 Nagasaki bombs has been released into the global atmosphere since 1991, from the use of depleted uranium munitions.
And Who’s Been Using Them? Iran? North Korea? Iraq?
It is completely mixed into the planet’s atmosphere in one year. The "smog of war" from Gulf War I was found in glaciers and ice sheets globally a year later.
http://tinyurl.com/qxkoq]
>> let’s be as fair as today’s insanity allows, let’s say we have to give up either depleted uranium munitions OR stop building nuclear sites, fair enuff? :(
up!
"Did the use of Uranium weapons in Gulf War II result in contamination of Europe? Evidence from the measurements of the Atomic Weapons Establishment (AWE), Aldermaston, Berkshire, UK, raises this question" reported the Sunday Times Online (February 19, 2006) in a shocking scientific study authored by British scientists Dr. Chris Busby and Saoirse Morgan.
The highest levels of depleted uranium ever measured in the atmosphere in Britain, were transported on air currents from the Middle East and Central Asia; of special significance were those from the Tora Bora bombing in Afghanistan in 2001, and the "Shock & Awe" bombing during Gulf War II in Iraq in 2003.
After the "Shock and Awe" campaign in Iraq in 2003, very fine particles of depleted uranium were captured with larger sand and dust particles in filters in Britain.
These particles traveled in 7-9 days from Iraqi battlefields as far as 2400 miles away.
The radiation measured in the atmosphere quadrupled within a few weeks of the 2003 campaign, and at one of the 5 monitoring locations, the levels twice required an official alert to the British Environment Agency.
In addition to depleted uranium data gathered in previous studies on Kosovo and Bosnia by Dr. Busby, the Aldermaston air monitoring data provided a continuous record of depleted uranium levels in Britain from the other recent wars.
EXTENSIVE VIDEO NEWS FOOTAGE OF THE 2003 IRAQ WAR, INCLUDING FALLUJAH IN 2004, PROVIDED IRREFUTABLE DOCUMENTED EVIDENCE THAT THE US HAS UNETHICALLY AND ILLEGALLY USED DEPLETED URANIUM MUNITIONS ON CITIES AND OTHER CIVILIAN POPULATIONS.
These military actions are in direct violation of not only the international conventions, but also violate US military law because the US is a signatory to The Hague and Geneva Conventions and the 1925 Geneva Gas Protocol.
DEPLETED URANIUM WEAPONRY MEETS THE DEFINITION OF A WEAPON OF MASS DESTRUCTION (WMD) IN 2 OUT OF 3 CATEGORIES UNDER US CODE TITLE 50, CHAPTER 40 SEC. 2302.
up!
Dead Man Wanki- eh Walking
RUSSIA WARNS U.S. AGAINST STRIKING IRAN
Gen. Yuri Baluyevsky, the chief of Russia's general staff, warned the United States against attacking Iran. "A military scenario can't be ruled out," he was quoted as saying by Russian news agencies."
IRAN: ''US THREATS OF MILITARY ACTION ARE BUT EXPRESSIONS OF ITS DESPERATION.''
The Iranians defend themselves with this: "The US, the Zionist usurper entity, and their band of bullies would do well to kick their habit of threats of military action, especially as the rulers in Washington are well briefed on just what they might face in Iran should they get carried away with their megalomania," concluded the editorial. IRNA
http://tinyurl.com/d3v5b
UP!
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the UP! is a global edutainment round-up, broadcast weekly to =[13,799]=
Alternative// Activist// Zippy// Trance// New Age// Peace folks
recommended to the Parallel YOUniversity// Megatripolis Dance Dept as
"showing signs of life". Since recipients forward it widely to their own lists & sites,
we conservatively estimate 50,000+ direct recipients.
A further 40,000 read it on the YOUniversity's site.
And, because of its 'mix' of 'specialist' & 'general' content,
it's increasingly being posted on a variety of sites worldwide,
making an estimated total weekly readership of =[275,000]=
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“I need my fix of UP!s polychromatic anti-news!”. James Elias, Amsterdam.
THE ZIPPIES //FEEDBACK
On the Zippie definition, I recall in the early 90s an alt. newsgroup of that name, and the dream-like description of one 'sitting beneath a tree using a laptop'!
Zen Inspired Professional Pagan
editor, birminghamrecords.
up!
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the UP! is a global edutainment round-up, broadcast weekly to =[14,002]=
Alternative// Activist// Zippy// Trance// New Age// Peace folks
recommended to the Parallel YOUniversity// Megatripolis Dance Dept as
"showing signs of life".
Since recipients forward it widely to their own lists & sites,
we conservatively estimate 50,000+ direct recipients.
A further 40,000 read it on the YOUniversity's site.
And, because of its 'mix' of 'specialist' & 'general' content,
it's increasingly being posted on a variety of sites worldwide,
making an estimated total weekly readership of =[275,000]=
(\o/)(\o/)\(o/)(\o/)(\o/)(\o/)(\o/)(\o/)(\o/)(\o/)(\o/)(\o/)(\o/)(\o/)(\o/)(\o/)(\o/)(\o/)(\o/)(\o
The Flying Saucer’s Apprentice
PART THREE
"I'm just a guy... Jesus was just a guy, too, of course."
by David Robert Lewis
What am I doing here? I was always asking myself that as the Zippy phenomenon continued to, well, continue. Looking at it from the next year, 2004, the problem is not too difficult to sort out.
While Fraser was being touted by the press as some kind of cult-figure surrounded by a horde of acolytes, on the one hand, the reality was completely different -- there were no 'true-believers" only variations of what can only be described as a rag-tag army of techno-hippies and cyber-anarchists -- the reinforcements he’d been looking for since the Sixties.
Though people like Earth Girl and Michael John seem to pop-up in story after story about the Zippies, it’s probably because they were already well-known, and Americans to boot. Very little is ever said about the actual tribe that accompanied Clark from London, and this criticism is not a new one. In fact, in a piece posted on the web shortly after the tour fell-apart, an anonymous author makes the startling point: "Take the very question of who these people are: How were they educated? What parts of Britain are they from? What do they do for a living? Who are their parents?"
And comments: "This was barely touched upon for those who were the nucleus of this movement, and not at all for the late-comers, who form, by Marshalls estimates, about half of the 200,000 zippies."
I'm not trying to include myself, here, but Americans like to honk their own horn, and it is probably safe to say that the closer you were to the nucleus surrounding Clark, the least likely you were to actually get heard - since the man was quite capable of telling everybody to shut-up while having a conversation about topical profundities like "we don't want to be all commercial or have stars" . The thought police and people like John Bagby were only too happy to oblige in following orders.
We return from yet another fashionable appearance at the Marconi Convention Centre, go up to the apartment where one of Clark's goons, from the bad side of London clubland, asks me if I'm gay. His name is Ronnie, and he's shooting a movie about the tour, and "do you get it in the backside, you know, like in the arse?"
"Can't say I do....do you?” I want to reply, but instead I play dumb, not wishing to appear so ultimately stupid, but then what am I actually doing here, making history with a capital H, with a bunch of gay-bashers in San Francisco of all places? According to Ronnie, the Zippies are having trouble with a bunch of club queens (in particular one promoter) and they need a couple of extra zippies, you know, like for support.
The totally anonymous monkey creature inside of me still wants to shout out: Sure I'm a Zippy supporter, what club soccer do you watch? Zippies FNL, Zippies Guinness Cup or the Zippies United Local?
Except, where I'm from, this kind of cultural bickering is taken seriously. Politicians often feel the need to feel popular by rigging the polls, bussing in supporters who have no idea what they’re supporting, and press ganging people with little else to do, except go along for the ride. I ask myself the question -- am I just one of the crowd -- the mob -- the passing parade whose presence has no effect on the outcome of events?
I have no answers. The reality is that I've spent the last ten years thinking a particular event was possibly significant, when in fact the truth is, it was as insignificant and impossible to believe as King Kong on rollerblades, or as futile as owning one of those quaint do-hickeys for someone else's brand new Beetle (1960s reissue) -- you know it does something probably useful, you know it’s probably vital to the workings of the man and his car engine - but what!? If it falls out and the car still goes, you do nothing, tell nobody, and go about your business blissfully unaware, and for all they know, internal combustion could be the result of a wormhole in spacetime.
Your Messiah will arrive later than expected.
>> it was certainly about internal combustion :)
THERE were always elements of the messianic about Clark's mission. Part of his charm and allure was in recasting the Yuppie as a Hippie holding a computer, with an innocent vision of dancing outdoors in Mother Nature amidst a bigger dose of Millennium Fever than most. Indeed, there’s nothing wrong with being characterised as some kind of holy man hauling a laptop while riding on a donkey, even if this makes you look like the Jesus Christ of rave culture as Time or Newsweek would have it. Or Christopher Columbus as I still maintain. It’s another thing entirely to actually tout yourself as G-d, or to claim to embody the spiritual physicality of a Christ, without stopping to consider that there could well be a pantheon of gods out there that include Buddha and even the Zoroastrian embodiment of the great god Mazda?
We arrived one night at Kat Mckenna's houseboat in Sausalito somewhere, and we are instantly thronged by worshippers who insist that I’m Krishna and Fraser is like God. They all circle us like pixies at a fairy wedding, and dance and sing a song too horrible to imagine. I think it has something to do with Fraser's birthday, but I’m too stoned to remember anything more than that.
It would be a while until the infamous "Smells Like Zippy Spirit -- The Stillbirth Of A Supertribe" piece in OUTside Magazine , the outdoors Rolling Stone, was published, along with the Fraser quote "I'm just a guy... Jesus was just a guy, too, of course." I could never figure out exactly why Hampton Sides wanted to pronounce the Zippies Dead on Arrival, but then you have to figure in the exploitation angle. The fact that none of us were getting paid, and as the "new supertribe" multiplied, so did the number of promoters eyeing his bank account.
>> i wasn’t claiming i was jesus, i was saying jesus was just a guy, like moi. who, incidentally, predicted that many would come after him who would go further.
Being so close to a superego like Clark’s can be dangerous. It’s one thing to stand next to a Mandela or a Tutu, and to get a whiff of actual greatness, but being situated next to Clark, at any time of the day, was like being absorbed by an unstable supernova, his ability to make even the smallest detail seem completely trivial and significant, and to literally mesmerise your mind with his bard-like, rhyming verse - the man, as so many critics like to tell us, had the real gift of the gab, and was indeed some kind of leprechaun spouting poetry and persuading you that things were, far from being stillborn and over, just starting!
>> and now with the zippy meme sweeping india china and japan, hmm.
When the "Here come the Zippies" story was breaking on the West Coast of America during 1994, Bill Griffith, the creator of a cartoon character named "Zippy" expressed his concern that people like myself were simply "cashing-in". Even though I couldn’t afford to wash my socks, we were "cashing-in", perhaps on Zippy himself?
"I've always longed to be a Mascot" says Zippy the Pinhead in the comic strip - "Yippie, its Zippie", about a "bunch of weirdoes who guzzle mashed enzymes and get communal and stuff." "Good!" says Zippy's ultra-rationalist partner Griffy, "Fantabulous! Now I'll get this out on th' Internet and we can start licensing - I see "Zippie" screensavers, "Zippie" flavoured teas! Zippie" clam dippies!! You'll be huge!!."
While it seemed, to an ultra-rationalist, that Clark was making money off the odd appearance, cadging a dollar here and there, and generally getting around by conning his way through the masses of hysterical new age wannabes, all of whom wanted to be in on the action, he was far from being a Sai Baba or Maharaji. In fact being Jesus Christ was not all that desirable, since one of the side-effects of being cast as an impoverished beggar on a donkey was that the Apple powerbook was always out of date or on loan, a simple prop. It was more like a marketing opportunity that failed to alert brand managers or the faithful to some potential high-tech shenanigans that could conceivably have enriched those whose lives depended upon making money.
Clark raised the issue of his status as "guru" one night.
"I'm reading 'On the Guru Trail', what do you think?” he asked
"Dunno." I said. “We haven't eaten for days."
Aside from the enormous marketing opportunities which failed to materialise, and the claim to a demographic that could be measured in the hundreds of thousands, and which still today measures something in the absurd region of a 300 million plus audience on the Asian Subcontinent (according to Outlook India), there were also the associations with technology companies that were exploitative, the media which exploited us, and the expectations that if we were not already being exploited, or exploiting those teen spirits, then who the hell were we to even ask for money?
Picture a scene in a boho cafe off Haight St, Clark surrounded by hordes of teens who all want a piece of zippy nippy, and the promoters of this zippy spirit who all want a piece of teen. Either way, I'm stuffed. Whether I like it or not, I still end up being some kind of purveyor of jail-bait at the end of a hook threaded by sharky school-moms who only want Fraser for dinner.
Cut to the Moscone Centre technofair, innocent me, accosted by adult technotourists, and still I go down in the history books as , "a new species of gibbon" to use Hampton Sides' phrase. Yet another appearance at the same venue, packed to capacity with San Francisco's youth. Fraser laughs and shows me the Zippy the Pinhead cartoon. I am introduced to an overfed, leering man in a suit as "a zippy," and still I can't even get a drink. Eventually I manage a glass of mineral water - apparently zippies live exclusively on rare minerals mined at the bottom of the ocean. They don't eat meat or drink wine like you or I.
The crazy thing in this image is I imagine my beatific facto-facto girlfriend there too. I imagine her, fending off the teenagers, the both of us escaping from this weird scientific laboratory from the ‘50s. Dissected. Redirected. Injected. All because of the west coast fantasy industry. The need by the media to possess your soul and to literally own a piece of the new energy without actually paying for it - the new media, the new techno resource -- and all because of Clark's original sin - the neat switch that created Zippy as the supposed antidote to the Yuppie and the result into Jesus Christ with a laptop computer on a donkey. Ashes and sackcloth beating a bible of "RavElations” on your forehead.
>> the name of my book on the rave scene, the Book of RavElations.
Son - you can be a technopagan and still work in an office if you want to. Girl -- you can be at an office party and still live in the wilderness. We can all liberate our desktops from the dance floor. We can all club ourselves conscious, at least if there's still something conscious left to club for.
(continued and ended in next UP!)
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