Unproven Fish Pudding, Or, Get Off Yo' Ass & Teach

unproven fish pudding

Or, Wherein The Modern Angler Is Convinced To Drop Everything Else And Teach A.S.A.P.

a poem by a faust

critical thought

its in short supply

will people used to the spoon

still be able to try

feeding themselves by themselves

or instead starve and die

or instead starve and die

PROGRESS OR PRACTICE? | THE IMPORTUNATE PHILOSORAPTOR

Soon agriculture, transportation, medicine, chemistry, architecture, mining, husbandry, journalism, security, journalism, surveillance, library science,law, food service, customer service, therapy, education, and almost all levels of almost all industries, including information technology and of course, robotics, will be overhauled, streamlined, optimized – downsized – by means of the nearly-indistinguishable-from-magical advances, discoveries, and inventions that will have been made, overwhelmingly quickly, in the fields of technology, robotics, miniaturization, and artificial intelligence.

And that is only as comprehensive a list as I could make with little effort.  I have no doubt there are a host of articles, presentations, books, videos.  But what I want to know is (and please correct me, Gentle Reader, if my hypothesis is, to your mind, anywhere unsound):

It appears a given that most humans will be out of a job, and ill qualified for any of the few jobs that remain. I think it is high time we started to consider the implications. While we can still do something about it. While we still know how to do something.

Anything.

Be seeing you.

Every Step You Take, Every Call You Make A Poetic Entreaty @Sonic.net, A Most Awesome ISP

EVERY STEP YOU TAKE, EVERY CALL YOU MAKE

(Or, An Hopeful Cautionary Tale Is Presented That It May Serve To Illustrate By Analogy This Most Sincere Yet Humble Entreat)

No ride; you have to walk. The bars are closed, your footsteps, loud.

Risk glances at all the disrepair out of the corners of your eyes:

As you walk purposeful on purpose, as you make yourself slow down,

As you choose to disabuse of fear you doubt the usefulness of lies.

Who's there? a noise from just ahead – to dark to make it out

You hear it hear you hear it, hear it get – too close – too fast

The unlikely someone who would get involved would never hear you shout

You'd easy end up robbed, or worse; this night could be your last.

Just then a sudden blinding everywhere of headlights strong and bright

A honk or two, & calling you by name, a friend, a ride –

An opened door – you're in – it's locked – a miracle of flight –

Safe and sound and homeward bound, protected and inside.

O Sonic! Champion of the Good, Who Dost Make Defense Of Privacy Your Purpose!

Forgive my heavy-handedness, &, please offer cell phone service!

sincerely submitted to Dane Jasper of Sonic.net by a female faust

dressed oblique | a poem by a faust

dedicated to Chica, Eno, and Schmidt

like accidental correlation meant to misdirect the gaze

ice cream profit plotted against summer homicide

some relationships connect you not so much to things as away

i test these by resisting, to see if & where they hide.

take attachment to desire, or, as wisdom has, it leave

for ever the advice will with cold indifference side

but should some sudden shock befall that would you of your love bereave

then may you wish your heart had been more truly occupied.

so disconnect from your desire not yourself but your regrets

try to see things as they are -- aim for not more or less

& when it comes to what you Will, take no prisoners, place no bets

they talk not overmuch that have no pressing need confess.

so close Desire this connection brings us, itself less blind, more ruse

that the lucky sometime suffer & the poets ever choose.

to life west (hastily composed in gratitude)

like pain when it finally lessens and ends
if with its ending comes likelihood never again
freedom from prison becomes like the heaven it sends
especially precious when that prison is made up of pain

wonderful blessed and all future happiness
everyone working to make this happen each day
someone is relieved of, or how to relieve this is
taught, is teaching, making open a way

At Art (if Even)

@ArtofEvan:
As usual a crawler-readable microfiche sized version below.

Because.  What it says.

To the Art (If Even) from a female Faust

from where I sit in sunlight virtual 

(Isn't this where we came in?)

evil seems -- somehow unreal --

(all that your flight has been)

evolving are we we are still

(Discipline -- Indiscipline)

from where I sit in sunlight

this making of an everything so better 

(the real relation, the underlying theme)

is not the first of my recognizing

(I'm afrain we'll have to improvise)

will yet: have, had, been, will, be, is 

(preparing Maximum Surprise)

in some times yet returning favor.

in all the vast web, there at once we fit though few

(I am you and what I see is me)

before my reason able, but unwilling can decide

( Indiscipline) ...( Discipline)

you see what is this this that is and befriend it too 

(All life is forwards you will see)

before between yet look again, to contemplate it, view

from where I sit in sunlight actual

(any morning, any evening, any day)

evil barely evil still

(gold and silver shine)

this here, this now, this, can we, will

(everybody everybody everybody tries)

from where I sit in sunlight

the its all goodness that this it may actually be

(You can be scared when it gets too real)

a dosed and holy intuition becomes a sometime moment brimming 

(someday, lets be a pair of trees)

with the promise of summer, hours listening to the city 

(a gazeless stare, at all the millions here)

which daydreams all around me now for miles

its how all evens have been gotten how all made men are made

(People forget)

the course of history unconvincing a charade

(See the future Leaking through See the person who once was)

you: an evidentiary fractal metonymy of scale

(where is the what if the what is in why)

not only being able, but also counting, counting on

a summer house in the universe next door

(the lengths that I will go to, the distance in your eyes)

all from the same seen and seeing

(these things do not remember you)

the web of society, like the bones in your hand

(see that we should never be afraid to die)

is the on purpose done by a friend --

from where I sit in sunlight spiritual

(the questions of thousands take flight)

evil only dreams a fable --

(but you can learn how to be you in time)

  where the solving's easy, problems grace

(inviting and inciting me to rise)

from where I sit in sunlight

Be seeing you.

Our Access To Science, Newly Freed: In Gratitude To Alexandra Elbakyan

Song of Sci-Hub.cc

or, a forward looking dirge occaisioned by the hopeful certain death of certain greedy mega corporations 

Knowledge comes from Power.  So they seek the other, hoard the one:

non solus for Truths new and old, for our own works submitted,

sed etiam for copyedit 'priveleges' (heretofore undone) 

Do such thugs as Reed Elsevier demand fat fees remitted.

Thus in battle charging every, all, they fain disguise and outright hide

what from each extracted, sums painful if retold

demanding from these what to those they promised to provide

They serve us best as proof That battle rages, yet, of old

Its all about power, yes -- defined by covert ways of knowing

to what extent, why, and how who does what, where and when

by use of tech most cutting edge their influence was growing --

until one woman noticed that what they do -- we can --

Lo! Public, swift and sure, was made our new disdain and noncompliance!

Let the People rejoice! Removéd are such barriers to Science!

in gratitude from a female Faust

worlds enough, & time (love one another) — a poem by a Faust

written for my belovéd on the eve of the Feast of St. Valentines, 2017.

Sometimes Lack Of Expletives In A Publshed Post Is Evidence Of Restraint

From the (redacted and removed) post herein replaced, sort of.

"For neither Man nor Angel can discern
Hypocrisy, the only evil that walks
Invisible, except to God alone,
By his permissive will, through Heaven and Earth:
And oft, though wisdom wake, suspicion sleeps
At wisdom's gate, and to simplicity
Resigns her charge, while goodness thinks no ill
Where no ill seems..."
                                                 John Milton, Paradise Lost, Book III,682-689





Having been fully and most painfully, willfully betrayed by a close friend is interesting. But for the solace found in the verse above, would I feel, still, an annoyingly immediate and profound sorrow at ever having wasted years being a loyal friend to any willfully mean and hypocritical, petty, lying, scheming individuals.