The Weekly Notes 2007
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Back to the Weekly Notes 2007 Archives That’s the name of my next book which I just finished
producing. A study of spirituality and ethics, this was by far the most
difficult book I have ever written. I looked up the first printing date on my
last book, “Will-Yam in the For those of you who
have been involved in some kind of important and complex project, you know
the emotional rollercoaster that comes with the completion of the task. For
those who have not, I don’t know whether to
envy or pity you. I can only say, you have missed out on
a great emotional adventure. It begins, of course, with the high stress
reaction as the end of the project looms. The nagging question always is,
“What did I forget?” You have worked your butt off for two years
plus and, as the end approaches, you are certain there is a fatale flaw, but
you have no idea where or what it is. Finally, as I wrap up
this book, seeing to all of the details of getting it properly manufactured,
I am at the point where I must put it all in a box and ship it to the book
making people. Even as I close the flaps and tape it shut, I am sure I forgot
something. So I open the box and go over the
contents bit by bit. Finally I bite the bullet and
tape the damn thing shut. The next day, we take it
to the US Postal Service. Mrs. Gaffer takes the box to the counter. I am
afraid I would be unable to let go of it. So, the damn thing is finally mailed. It is out of my hands. There is a
moment of euphoria, but only a moment. By the time I
get home, the inevitable let down drops on me like a load of bricks. I can do
nothing but sit on the deck and stare into space. It’s
just me, my cigar, and my Heineken. That lasts for three or four hours.
Somewhere along the way, I lost track of time. By evening, I am
beginning to breathe almost normally and the tension is gone. I am really relaxing after all of the emotional whipsawing.
Then I relax a bit more and I say something to Mrs. Gaffer that I think is
incredibly funny. Then I begin to giggle. I can’t
help it. I just keep giggling. I see Mrs. Gaffer looking at me sharply and I
know, if I don’t stop, I will get my face
slapped. I manage to swallow the last few giggles. I’m
sure they will come out later as rather painful farts. After that, I feel
like crying, but I hold it on. I will let it out tomorrow in my private
meditation space. One thing I know for sure. I will never start another book
— for at least a month or two. Maybe I’ll
just write a cookbook. They must be easier because there are so many of them. I cannot Imagine: We saw some news items
about sperm banks and the people involved in that business. I cannot remember
if it was Sixty Minutes or some other show. They told us about one The women who
participated seem to be just as ethically void as this man. They wanted
babies, but they did not want the bother of being married. They believed they
could manage both roles, mother and father. Their
selection of the donors for this madness was a huge page right out of the
book of the pseudo science of eugenics. A real sickness has invaded our
culture and it masquerades as human rights, but it is really a total
breakdown of ethical values of any kind. We have a man who things
his offsprings have a real value to him of fifty bucks. He speaks of these
children in the abstract as those children, not as his children. He is not
ethically different from the southern planters who sold their black
offsprings to slave traders. To complete the set we have women who are too
lazy to make the effort to form a lasting relationship and have slid into the
emotional pathology of lesbianism. Yet, these same fools believe they have
the emotional stamina to properly raise children. Years ago, when I was
participating in an emotional self-help community, I was
approached by a woman who wanted me to father her baby. She knew I was
married, but she did no want a husband, even a fine person like me. She just
wanted my sperm so her kid would come from good stock. I told her what I
still think. I cannot imagine being the father of a child and having no
participation in the care and nurturing of that child. That would be beyond
unethical. That would be sick. Coulter: The best thing to do
with her is to ignore her. Mrs. Edwards made a huge error in judgment when
she made her plea to this guttersnipe. She expected her to behave like a
human being. That’s like expecting a piece of
flotsam in a city drain to act like a human. She has no more human decency
than a Muslim extremist. Ipod: Fools are camping out
overnight just to get this grossly overpriced stupid gadget. They have been
completely set up and they love it. The rabble are so easy to manipulate it’s sickening. How in the world are we ever going
to have an enlightened populace, so long as Madison Avenue continues to
function? The behaviorist techniques they use are so transparent,
a thoughtful child should be able to see through them. Yet, our politically
diminished populace continues to take the shabby bait. Duh! Legacy: The mad king has some
legacy. I doubt if any future president will ever best it. His party has
turned on him, he has to keep replacing his generals as they see the reality,
and the American people have turned on him. The only ones he can count on now
are Laura and Cheney. Laura will love him come what may and Cheney will use
him come what may. We spent 19 billion
bucks training so-called Iraqi police. A large number of these trained and
armed Muslims are now participating in the civil war in On the subject of
isolationism, a 3000-mile long wall on the Mexican boarder is isolationism
big time and extremely expensive. The worst part is,
it will not work. It will simply make the wetbacks more
clever. The old Russian masters of the Berlin Wall are laughing in
their tombs. The only people who think a wall will work are George Bush and a
bunch of legislators who have been in Back
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