For expedience, simply imagine a phenomenal case where simply calling any given person an "x-phobe" instantly by virtue of the name-calling alone, creates that which it sought to opprobriate.   Calling person y an "x-phobe" creates more often than not, in the person of person y, a new x-phobe .   This is the thesis, that it's a case of a self-fullfilling "prophecy," and a very epimethean one by the lights, the orange spotlights shined, shone, on any would-be Stave Martins seeking excusation.    That's a corollary of BOT. Call it what,   You want.       

    In Ayn Rand's now underrated Movie, The Fountainhead, an entire novel centers around the everyday narcissist situation of "audience capture," in the person of Gail Wynand, who is captured by his newspaper audience, and sadly if foreseeably  comes to a bad end.   Blue Ouroboros Theory as simply an idea or explanation for how one of our two  venerable, the more venerable of the two, political parties, just up and decides to devour itself alive. Audience capture, is the explanation, in theory. In the theory, in Blue Ouroboros Theory, "bots" who work in a automated boiler room type operation, with trolls, as "closers," real life humans who step in when a bot attracts engagement, seek influential and high profile "marks" to work their mentalist magic on.   As background we keep in mind Orange Ouroboros Theory, according to which, for those who are convinced by it, "gender" belongs filed under the same rubric, and orange rubric in t...

  The fleas are angry, oh so angry, as well they might be, and might have been :  "a Sheep is whoever dresses up as a Sheep and declares (clarifying authentically now of course) "Wolves who dress up in Sheep's clothes are Sheep."   And furthermore:  Baa Ram Ewe ...    All Sheep are Sheep but ... well, we can guess the business,   Some Sheep are more authentically Sheep than other Sheep.     Whelp ...    Asking questions (even making exclamations) such as, 'but Mee Maw, what very large canines you have,' is Trump's-phobic, and signatory of being one's very being being infected with " TDS ."    Or worse ... (!)    (?)    But what if 'Jason' and his cult of Golden Cargonauts were onto something, an idea for placing on offer in the marketplace of just that, a product of exquisite craftsmanship (a bottled cargo ship), namely fractal fleas ...    Decisions, decisions ... and decisions an...

      In the history of Art, and by "Art" I mean in particular one art, and allied dignities, one geologic in analogy feature stands, or rather dips,  a grand chasm, or canyon, between a North Rim and a South Rim:  to the north lies romanticism, and yawning years of a tradition of pain, the painful represented, or rather actually presented in dissonance, and definite, and defined.   To the south, a sunnier less seasonal and altogether more reliably rational country lies, spreads, out in a plain.  Less concerned with "climb every mountain" and reaching, wrestling, as if for Jacob's Ladder.    Impressionism. An emancipation of the consonance to, remain, "lush" befoliaged, green and growing less like Firs' Forests than like first forests, as seen in prehistoric, or even Permian processions and pageants, of Life Through the Ages . Aloof, allied with drifting clouds and shining Moon, and timeless tides and waves as wide or wider than life itself...

      Inexplicably the Trump phenomenon seemed to vomit itself into existence out of nothing, but Root Orange Ouroboros Theory is an idea that it was actually flying under the radar with a weaponized stealth issue kept in peripheral vision by distractions and constant deployment of so-called "orange herrings," red herrings as decoys, and "dog-whistles" so-called. For example the fashionable twitter "statue PfPs," and enigmatic ambiguously interpretable allusions to 'saving Western Civilization.'    To lay it all out, what lay underneath, the essence, or root of the orange ouroboros was a simple set of axioms, presumed to be self-evident. To the extent that they resonated, they helped conjure the unlikely fruit into existence like "clockwork," so to speak:   a) There ain't no such thing as a they/them.   b)  Nobody was "born in the wrong body."   c) The belief that one can be or that oneself is, is a mental illness.   d) T...

        Social Problems ...   We've  knocked on doors of Pythagorean almost Platonic "triples,"    Sex, Drugs (Trips) and Rock (and Roll).   And before it, Love, Romances of Long Ago and Far Away, Liszt and Paganini, a devilish virtuous virile fiddler (i.e., Romantic Music.)   And before that, the Renaissance.   What?  A social problem?   It was ...   But it was a great awakening, a great rebirth! Yes?   Awakening, it was  ...  "woke" in the parlance, jargon, "discourse." It was a dream within a dream within a dream that it was a wakening into a memory of a Past. ...    A Past.   ... it was a long ago, a far away in the past, an Eden. With it's own Obama, if you will. Who was "buying a Stairway to Heaven," a nibbler, shomping, deciding, to take, to taste, the first bite .   He was an eater of the Ouroboros. A strange fruit, but not the kind you might think.   He could see in Ka...

     "When you're a hammer everything looks like a nail."   When you're a social constructivist everything looks like "a social construct."   When you're a sickle you go around telling everyone "you're ass is grass."   They got away with it with race, why wouldn't they think they could get away with it with "gender"?   First off, Obama was fine on race. He never had his proverbial "Sista Soulja" moment because with him every moment was a Sista Soulja moment. There was never any blithe blithering about "whiteness" or queerly quantum "Black body" radiation poisoning (his "discourse"). First off, there was the fact of his race:  one of the East African ones.  The widest human racial divide is down the middle of Africa, not between Africa and elsewhere. Although the migration out of Africa was out of a particular piece, or part, of Africa.    One could name any number of East African ...

    Having been ...      Having been  introduced to a certain musical method mostly postly to the Mannerist , and previous to the Roccoco , Rococo not to be confused with "Rock and Roll," (with) whose sons, ironiously were heavily involved with which, as practiced by a rather anachronistically late practitioner, by an almost Suevi suavity, a  Schwäbisch level yet ultimately in the event merely Thuringian genius, and not for physics, by an industrious enterprise collectively known as "The Swingle Singers," an ubiquitous entity at the time I'd not yet in all innocence even suspected being, having been ...   Existing, it was a revelation. Not long (5 years) after I mustered the financial muscle and saved from a paltry "allowance" enough to purchase a "record" as they were called by ... everyone save snobs, purveyed by sellers of "records and tapes." It was an are we able to say it, "electrifying" amusement and arrangement...

    Two    One One    Five Five Five   Three Three Three Three Three    Zero Zero Zero Zero Zero Zero Zero   Big Words.   In  an earlier clumsy post I made an inept effort at identifying the 'intellectual bully,' a type of debate champion armed in panoply with postmodern jargon, decorously bedecked with debate cards, shaming ordinary average persons for simply making simple observations.   True observations, correct, sane, obvious ones I might add.   Four Four Four Four     The psychological bully is  a Venn diagrammatical over lapping, or perhappenstance inclusive category.    In their very person they might "present" as these numbers do, transnumbers. Calling what's clearly binary (like a star system with two stars) "non-binary." Or saying what's clearly discontinuous is "a continuum," or spectrum.   Also plain gas lighting with ... well Steve Martin once excused himself for asking...

    The Dawn.   The dawn of the  modern age begins with the introduction of zero.  Think of it, the Pillars of Hercules were inscribed with "nec plus ultra," a middle aged and ancient antiquity -aged  so-called "Stop!" sign.   In ancient/medieval time "the year one" was the first year. There was no "year zero."   This muddled thinking persists as a crude curiosity in our language, like a plastic 'glass.' Or a "crescent" Moon  on the wane . "Year" is itself a word cognate with "get," as in to "get" ready, to organize one's "gear."   The Dawn Goddess was "Eos,"   note the same Eo root as can be found in "eocene" or "eohippus," it likewise is the root of "early" and  "yearly." The 'year' is the very beginning, and begetting.   One's first birthday is celebrated at the beginning of one's second year.     Yet one's firs...

     Mangas Coloradas.   In the 1960s, quite self or unconsciously echoing the Romantic period, Sex Drugs and Rock-and-Roll rolled off the tongue as a synecdoche for the Phoenix rising from Snaketown of an Echo to the narcissism of that template time. For the Romantic it was Love Drugs (or travel by other means, even imaginatively, to the long ago and far away in whatever state of ruin), and ... well maybe Liszt, Pagannini, even, if one must, Wagner, of Mahler (of outdoors), or Beethoven hadn't gone ghostly fading leaving a smirking mist of Raven Quothing ravenous spectralisms and seancings entirely .    Even him. (Even he was an option to over-grammarize/glamourize)   After Mendelssohn, Bach (not hardly), well, maybe not .   But in the 1960s there was the Manza-wreckage of the Farfisa intro. to "Light My Fire."   In any case on any occasion there's a new Moon rising over snaketown and lizardtown and hornytoadtown and all the other towns...

      This is odd,   I was reading through a critique, by purest happenstance, by Martha Nussbaum, of Edith Butler, Judith Butler, rather.   It offers a view of Butler's show as a performance of what is best thought of as "quantum quietism," of learned (two syllables please) helplessness.      Learnèd helplessness.   I realized after a sameness between the "non-binary" indeterminancy of the weird muppetryismatic "assigned gender at birth" conceit, and what humanities types, take from science fiction types, who take from the absurdity on steroids of science supposedly endorsing, wallowing in, the Escher impossible object of " Schrödinger's Cat."     Slavoj Žižek inexplicably locates "Jonathan Hoag" in New York.   Already, the story makes no sense unless set in Chicago , the vulgarian Mecca of menacing meat packing heat packing mediocrity.      He then, following Heinlein mentions the "gray mist" of quantum in...

         1993.   Two incidents.   1993 was notable for two incidents.   The January 13, 1993, "Water Buffalo" Incident, and the February 26, 1993 World Trade Center attack.     The book didn't treat the subject in a sufficiently serious and respectful way.     I think we can all agree the February 26th incident was a right wing attack on a right wing institution.   The January 13th topic is so toxic description would better yet be precluded from mentionability.    Twin Towers.   The towers I am referring too from here on are, the metaphoric and towering entities known as, the Republican Party, and the Democratic Party.   And we're alluding obliquely to 2001 by way of 1993 but actuality wise we're talking about 2016. And 2025.   The first plane flew into  the tower known as the "Party of Lincoln."   And the plane was Donald Trump. Or was piloted by Donald Trump, who coinci...