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Dragoncaller Multidimentional
I know you are all an hallucination, but thanks for coming anyway.
dragoncaller
I have the ever growing belief that more and more items and services that we, the consumer, use are designed and engineered by people who have never met another human being before. Raised in a Skinner box, the baby engineer received the latest on-line data and algorhythmns about human beings, computer rendered wirework images, and anatomically correct (based on 1959 Insurance Company Data) dolls to play with.

The baby was spared the hardship of learning the crossdressing wolf (assuming it was male) devoured little Red Riding Hood, and the vengeful bears, sick of porridge, dined on Goldilocks, instead learned that asserting pack leadership Red Riding made friends with the wolf, and with simple explanation and offer of compensation, Goldilocks avoided her turn on the menu.

The baby supped on mother's pasteurized milk and received hugs in the form of electronic greeting cards and despite the baby's best to cram a Triangle block into a Square hole, still received a 'Good Job!' animated gif on its terminal.

The engineer grew up and the Skinner Box is now 900 square feet which is the new rage called, Tiny Houses. Groceries are delivered to the door. Visions of the real world are piped in by reality t.v.. And sex is provided by a series of self created pictures of genitals sent back and forth to another engineer who's profile identifies them of being from the desired gender.

My beginning proof of this idea is this:


This is the Eat'n tool. It is a spoon, fork, bottle opener, wrench and flat head screw driver. You discover very quickly the spoon is as useless as the fork, the bottle opener breaks of the top of the bottle leaving you with jagged glass to drink from, the wrench concept fails and the flat head screw driver is only useful for flat head screws which as all you out doors men know happens all the time in the woods.

Most of all the thing is physically painful to use. You will hurt yourself trying to use it. Yet there are 21 variations of this same, useless thing. Go to Amazon. You'll see it!

Next up it this:


It is a hair clip with a screwdriver, wrench, scale and SAW. As in, saw. The screwdriver is only good for tightening the screws on your glasses, the wrench is only good for nothing, the scale isn't to scale with anything and curved so you can't use it to get your bearing on a 2-D map and the saw, well, the saw will, no exaggeration, cut all your hair off while you wear the thing.

Walk around with this thing for 30 minutes and you'll have a Monk's Tonsure and horrific bleeding scars.

Also available on Amazon.

But it isn't limited to to crappy products.

This is from Ted's Talk. The premise is gamers are used to solving problems and therefore can be tasked with (dramatic pause) SAVING THE WORLD FER REELS! The audience, a bunch of scientists, are LAUGHING at her and she almost pleads to make her case. She has a PHD for this idea as her thesis, but as she goes on she refers to her thesis and her study. Not once does she talk about her gamer friends, or hosting a study to watch gamers. Everything she did is based on lab study. Listen to her. For ten years of programing computer games, she never once mentions playing a game or playing with others. After watching her for 5 minutes, I realized to my horror my theory was TRUE! She has never interacted with another human being, or trolled by a 15-55 year old gamer.



https://youtu.be/dE1DuBesGYM

It goes on and on and she isn't the only one. Insipid projects and ideas that 10 years from now we'll say, remember when that was all the rage?

Like putting yer thoughts on an on-line journal.

I leave you with this: A massive collection demonstrating there is no one at the helm.

The Worst Things for Sale

Current Mood: busy busy
Current Music: Hush my darling, be still my darling

11 Dragons or Call a Dragon
dragoncaller
Face book is fun, if you want the hyper-reality alarm extreme everything bagel with extra terror covered coffee, but it's all a collection of sound bites.

Bikering.

Noise.

It is like a siren in the night getting louder and louder, filling your thoughts with the random idea it's the SWAT van pulling into your driveway then getting softer before slipping into the night and you're left with wonder of what that was all about, when another, bigger, louder and brasher siren sounds, getting closer and closer and surely it is in your drive way this time, but it too fades into the night, almost gone for another, this one heading into a totally new direction, where do you think there is a street, and fading again replaced by another, this one a British Patrol Car going WeeeeOOOOOOWEEEEEoooooWEEEEOOOO, instead of the American WooWooWooWooWooWoo, or, RwaaaaaaaoooooooeeeeeeerRWaaaaaaaaooooooeeee, before it heads off into the night, probably on the wrong side of the road, leaving the only sound you hear is the re-run on the telly. Over and over again.

I'm not ruling out the previous sentence is a run on, but I'm banking it is not and my proof is James Joyce.

I need Live Journal to keep shit straight. To document stuff before I forget. To remember.

Tag! You're it!

I'm not trashing FB. FB is good for, hey cousin Jethro had another youngin' and, look at this cute kitten. It has its place. Just not for proper discussion or documenting my life and thoughts. It isn't for expressing myself. It's for fast and easy but necessary inane family chit chat so I don't have to actually spend time with them.

This is good. I will edit my post.

Current Mood: contemplative contemplative
Current Music: Come back, baby! Rock and Roll never forgets!

5 Dragons or Call a Dragon
dragoncaller
Again I sit and watch the news of the horrible events facing law enforcement. Oddly, everyone has an opinion, my self included, however, I bring to the table, p'raps, a little insight.

I have been that guy explaining to people most of the stuff on CSI and Law and Order do not exist, or if they do, takes months if not years to process. Major cases will be bumped up the pecking order, but in a major city, that only puts you behind the line with the other murders. Things are not a simple phone call away.

I am envisioned with the concept of Police DMV. You're waiting in line to get to the clerk who says, "You want Murder, down the hall to the left. This is Burglary."

You reply, "Yes, I've been there, but after they murdered my uncle they took his stuff."

"Ah, you have to go to Robbery first. Did they forcefully enter the dwelling?"

"No, it happened in a parking lot."

"You're in the wrong line, hon. Follow they green line to the Robbery counter. NEXT!"

Where was I?

So in a world were people believe forensic science they are surprisingly quick to abandon all of that and go for the reality t.v. that used to be called, the news.

21 years of Law Enforcement I've learned many things, the first of this you can take as your sound bite. Put it on your bulletin board right over your poster of a dangling kitten asking you to hang in there. Ready?

The first story you hear is always wrong.

Go to any murder mystery show, time and time again someone lies and the cops run off, hopefully to loose the trail. People lie because they stole a frelling potatoe and they are willing to stymy a murder investigation to get away with their ill gotten spud.

People lie for gain, to hide their little secret, they lie for money, love, respect, Thursday, they lie for nothing and they lie for everything. They LIE, LIE, LIE.

How many shootings have we seen over the past twelve months? How many officers are exonerated? But we watched the news! We saw the facts! You saw Lies and lies and lies.

So, Ferguson. I have a ling explanation for this whole bit, but I'll just cut to the quick. The story you got was an innocent child with his hands in the air crying, 'Don't Shoot!' is shot. That's the story. We went nuts over it. Stores were burned, cars over turned, dogs and cats living together.

The President of the United States of America, the most powerful nation on Earth, rose from his chair and bellowed that justice will be done and because he thought the State government was a bunch of doofs, sent the Secretary General, the highest law enforcement official in the most powerful country in the world to go investigate. All the resources in the most powerful nation in the world were provided for this case.

The answer they came back was this:

Ready?

The first story we heard was wrong.

None of that happened. Witness came in droves, put their hand on the bible and SWORE TO GOD a lie. They lied to God. Do you think God forgets these things? That God is understanding? People, he nuked an entire city. Children, puppies, house plants, vaporized so vigorously that to watch it would turn you into a pillar of salt.

These people evoked God's name and testified to something they were not even there for. Wasted everyone's time and resources. Why?

Does why matter? It only means they are willing to sacrifice a potential investigation, the lives of families hinged on knowing the truth, a community torn apart, for no reason at all.

In the end there is no reason.

So, the latest shooting witnesses stated it was an un-armed black man murdered by a WHITE cop. Did I fail to mention that whole race thing? Yes, a WHITE COP. The police say it was a BLACK officer and the suspect had a gun. Meanwhile there is body cameras, dash cams and other video to pour over, forensics to collect, bits of string strung around showing the bullet path and where who was standing when who was shot.

You know, an investigation.

A reporter this morning badgered the mayor to release video and she said, 'We do not release parts of an investigation, we release the whole investigation.'

Well, why not? I give you Zimmerman. Remember how that case came out? Some 911 recordings, then some more, then a blurry picture. Then a clear picture. All the while the nation went nuts. In truth, the whole case was available but the media released it an eye drop at a time. Why? Because riots are easy reporting.

Next case we're watching, Black man with his hands up walking away from police. If you have a half dozen cops and you're black and the prevailing belief that cops only shoot black men then why are you walking around when cops are pointing guns at you.

Here's how to survive this situation: Do what the officer tells you to do.

Ta Da!

Oh, for the record, the suspect was Tazed. It didn't work. People on PCP are immune to being Tazed. Was he on PCP? Don't know. Just saying we need more facts in the case. Let's hold off trashing the place till then.

Here's one. For whatever reason you are on the floor, partially trapped under a car and two police officers are holding you down, and one of the officers takes his gun and places the business end on your chest. He cannot miss and it is instant death for you if he pulls the trigger.

Do you, A: Continue to fight?
B: Continue to fight and pull out your gun?
C: Stop resisting, go limp, and comply with officer's instructions which more than likely will not include, take your gun out.

Well, he chose B.

Why do people fight? They same reason they lie. There isn't a reason.

One of the problems are community leaders, teachers and parents telling children: "The cops cannot stop you, you don't have to listen to anyone and you can do as you please."

The cops CAN stop you, you should listen to them and you CANNOT do as you please.

That isn't how society functions. You want anarchy? Work hard, buy and island, live on it as you please.

Ta Da!

You want to live in society? Well, society has rules. Simple of that.

More on this as I calm down.

Current Mood: angry angry
Current Music: He looked like a Purple People Eater to me

12 Dragons or Call a Dragon
dragoncaller
Hugh Mannity's review of Shard's Thugs.

Shards Thugs.jpg

Current Mood: happy happy
Current Music: She's got Bettie Davis eyes.

Call a Dragon
dragoncaller
Join the laugh out loud adventures of Captain Wiggletooth Shard as his rag tag band of goblin thugs battle against the humans, dwarves and elves. Saddled with the useless Momoo, the enigmatic Major Bark Bite and the lusty, busty Princess Hiroki and her castration machine, Shard must overcome dark elf secrets, assassins and a lurking dragon!

Available on kindle for .99 cents. That's right, .99 cents and healthier than anything on the Wendy's dollar menu. So, go now to Amazon and get your self the book of the summer! Shard's Thugs!

Shard's Thugs

Current Mood: Dizzy
Current Music: Lost boys like me are free.

Call a Dragon
dragoncaller
Holocaust deniers. People who deny the Holocaust. People who enjoy taking facts, irrefutable, and despite the insensitivity to others, blather on that the Holocaust was made up.

In 1988 I visited a Death Camp in Croatia, Jasenovac. I saw the place, heard the stories. My companion was a teenager during the war and had been tortured and permanently disabled by the Luftwaffe Intelligence. That wasn't a story or fable. That happened.

In 2009, oh, so long ago, a man was freed from jail by Governor Mike Huckabee. The governor commuted a 108 year sentence and let that man go free. Seriously, if you've been sentenced to 108 years in jail, there's bound be be something wickedly fucked up with you. It wasn't for overdue library books. He was recommended to the Governor and the Governor signed it.

He went free.

Nine years later, that man, grateful for his freedom, walked into a coffee shop in Washington State. There, sitting at a booth were four officers. They had their lap tops open and they were doing work, sipping coffee, and enjoying the community. It was part of the community policing program to get the police out into the public where they can meet and interact with the people they serve in a warm, friendly, and affable way.

That man walked up to them and shot them all dead.

There is no war on cops, so I'm told. Or at least, no new war. That police are safer than ever.

Here's some facts. This guy, freed from an Arkansas prison didn't get that gun from a box of Cracker Jacks. It had been given to him. They target was soft, not L.A., not NYC, Lakewood Washington, where they could move in an out undetected. They snuck him in, sent to the coffee shop, and then wisked him away to a series of safe houses with the hope to shaking the law now hounding him. His handlers, hoping to use his skills again, moved him funtil they were boxed in California.

It was an assassination.

What the media doesn't mention is the network that moved the assassin around. That gave him the gun.

But cops are safer, right?

As of May 26, 2016, 38 police officers have been killed in the line of duty. That means a cop dies almost every four days. Car related deaths are down, but cops shot to death are up 19%.

The group that moved the murderer around was a branch of Separatists who believe themselves beyond the jurisdiction of the U.S. Government. They live in your neighborhood, enjoy the privileges of citizenship, but many pay no taxes or respect the law. They look at cops as the soldiers in their carefully crafted war on everyone.

They are organized and will kill you in a heart beat.

Other groups are out there, different causes, but the plan is the same.

Kill cops.

Pennsylvania, a police officer was shot in the parking lot of the Police Station. Same deal with that guy. Four cops in NYC are attacked with a man with a hatchet. He was part of ISIL, so he claimed.

Even if they were not part of a shadowy underground, they were still encouraged and brought out by anti-cop rhetoric.

Our president is too busy in Japan, laying forward his legacy as a uniter to attend the funeral of a dead cop. He once said, and I quote, "I don't know all the facts of this case, but I know the cops acted stupidly." Yes, that's a very uniting statement.

But let's be fair. Cops are assholes, right?

Here's a thought. You want a professional? PAY COPS A PROFESSIONAL WAGE! You want someone skilled? TRAIN THEM! All these people marching, yelling at cops, were you all at the town meeting where your police budget for training was slashed? Where you cut out their benefits? Seriously, who wants to be a cop? How long before the thrill of wearing the badge and driving the car wears off?

You want someone who has the skill to offer fries with that, then don't expect anything but a mouth breathing thug.

Right now what you do have are noble, hard working, self sacrificing men and women willing to stand up to the wolves who want nothing more than to RIP OUT YOUR THROAT.

How long you have them for? That is for you to decide.

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Current Mood: angry angry
Current Music: Son of a bitch! Gemmie a drink!

2 Dragons or Call a Dragon
dragoncaller
The end of things. There is a perfectly good biological reason for the leaves of the trees to turn color. The trees are unthinking of the squirrels, yet they take the mission clearly; store up nuts and food for winter is soon coming. We see it too, that message that the fun is over, yet as we prepare, take the AC out of the windows, pull covers over the BBQ, pull the boats in, we still take a moment from our labors and look up.

At the color.

Red is so opposed to green and seeing the green trees blush with so many colors we can only marvel.

We wonder about the existence of God, yet we don't wonder about why we waste time taking in the splendor, the beauty. The fact is we can conceive of such things is only a gift. To marvel at art where there is no biological explanation for it to be is the lasting gift from heaven. Darwin would've beaten it out of us years ago, and yet we still appreciate the dying burst of color from the trees.

Yes, it's that time again when I strip off all of my clothes and walk outside naked. I wore a felt hat today because it was a bit chilly. The trees have gotten a little sparse on the north corner. I'll make plans to put in some evergreens in the spring. There are a LOT of acorns out there. More than I remember in previous years.

I got a phone call today. I had to make a life changing decision. It isn't absolute yet, but we're starting a journey and more than likely a new beginning. I now staring at the computer, watching the blinking cursor wondering who to say it without too much vagueness.

I'm retiring soon.

When is to be decided, but soon is the answer. Ahm not up for this anymore. The steely sharp knives in the back have finally scored a little too deep. The betrayals, like a zombie horde, have built up too much, too many. Bad guys I can handle, it's just some of the good guys are not so good sometimes.

Tonight we'll have a fire in the fireplace and we'll hunker down, preparing for the winter ahead.

But here's the thing about winter...

It is followed by Spring.

Current Mood: contemplative contemplative
Current Music: I wanna know what love is

7 Dragons or Call a Dragon
dragoncaller
The thing about things is we don't think about things that are important, instead we think about those things we think are important, ignoring the important things we don't think about.

I said this years ago whole hanging out with a bunch of CIA agents.

I was on a roof top.

In Syria.

Damascus.

Drinking beer with the CIA.

I shit you not.

While one country over there was a shooting war. Two countries over there was another shooting war. Three countries over there was a soon to become a shooting war.

And I was on a roof top in Syria on an endlessly sunny day having a beer with spies and impressing them with my brilliance.

I was right then as I am right now.

It's plankton.

Not this Plankton:


This plankton:


A tiny little whatzit living in the ocean who without you would be dead. That's right, you need this guy to live. Maintaining his habitat is a priority, but instead we concern ourselves over other things, big things, and forget the main thing, the thing.

The important thing.

It wasn't the fact that I was hanging out with a bunch of government spies, or drinking beer, or anything, it was that I was hanging out with a bunch of no bodies who without we'd all be fucked.

They didn't do any James Bond work. They didn't do anything important save things that was critically important. They ran phone lines. The ran wire and hooked up security and monitors and alarms for the hotel so the diplomats, specifically the Secretary of State James Baker the Third who was a somebody, could go around the world and try to make peace with words and a U.S. Government check book.

He didn't land until we made it safe. They sniffed for bugs, looked for bombs, and kept other spies at a distance with a steely glance. Without them, there would be talks, no negotiations, no peace.

And without me, there would be no them. That's right, I saved the mutha fukin' world. Yer welcome.

And we're up on the roof lamenting how we're not in the 'Action'! We're not doing real work. Yet without us, myself included, there would be no diplomats and we would resolve things the ol' fashioned way--wiff our fisks!

We do a lot of talking with our fists. P'raps because we don't have enough guys running secure phone lines.

A man with a briefcase can steal more than a man with a gun. Which means a man with a briefcase can do everything better than a man with a gun. A gun has six bullets. That's it. Assuming the man with the briefcase hasn't created a law to take that gun away.

The important thing is this thing: we need things. Everyone wants to look to the future and forget the importance of the past but the thing is, the past is important. It's who we are. We all sit around the telly, watching fake or contrived stories of who someone else wants us to be, forgetting who we are. If there is something we need to change, we should just do that and not worry over a fake person doing it for us.

It was confirmed today that this has been destroyed by ISIL.

Plankton-spongebob-squarepants-mr-lawrence.jpg

I took this picture of the ancient site of Pumyra in 1990. It is gone now. I saw photos of ISIL blowing it up for no good reason.

I look at pictures from the old days. The eyes in sharp contrast of workers on a railroad, or the guy putting aglets on shoe laces. We think about Morse and his code and not the guy who ran hundreds of miles of gleaming copper wire but in fact, Morse would be rather fucked without that copper wire guy.

Or plankton.

Or history.

Or sewers.

Sewers are mad important.

Current Mood: angry angry
Current Music: blow a kiss, fire a gun

8 Dragons or Call a Dragon
dragoncaller
So, here's what we've learned so far.

Sometime between now and the dawn of time Pluto was tea-bagged by God.

11059767_1308458859183564_4997077070997555051_n.jpg

Current Mood: nerdy nerdy
Current Music: What's the frequency, Kenneth?

6 Dragons or Call a Dragon
dragoncaller

Humans, eyes tearing, looking up into the night sky saw wandering stars meandering around in the darkness, and they counted them, prayed to them, reached out with their songs and dreams and satellites. Heaven, however, wasn't orderly, as neat as we would like it. If gravity and the laws Newton gave us were to be believed there was something beyond the vail, lurking in the shadow, a shy little boy tugging at our pant leg.

To see that far we needed something far more powerful than telescopes of polished glass and mirrors. Pluto was to prove it would be the rebel, the planet of its own rules.

We needed Math.

Pluto was discovered in a equation.

Something was pulling on the other planets, something with enough mass said Lowell, back in the days before an observatory was named after him. So a guy, Powell was the name sewn in his boxers, and another fellow who was called W. H. by his friends calculated when and where to look and low and behold another guy, Tombaugh if you believed the red embroidery on his lab coat, squinted through the spiffy new telescope at the new Lowell Observatory, and saw Pluto.

It wasn't Pluto until a little girl, Venitia Burney, suggested to her grandfather that it should be named after The lord of the underworld. Gramps sent a post card to the observatory and Pluto was a planet.

Now there's a problem. Pluto is a precocious planet. Pluto didn't shrink, but eggheads found lots of Pluto sized rocks, so instead of having many more planets, we downgraded Pluto to Dwarf, or as they prefer, little planet.

Ah, but tricky Pluto has tricks indeed because a dwarf planet doesn't have the mass needed to play with Neptune and Uranus, so how can such a little planet mess with such big boys?

Pluto has a girlfriend! A Charon, a moon 1/7 the size of Pluto. Their orbits locked so they face each other, they Doe se doe around the Sun, teasing their neighbors as they go.

And all this is 4.67 billion miles away. That's million with a B! The probe we sent? Flying at a brisk 30,000 miles an hour or New York to Paris in 8 minutes.

And it's still all conjecture. We won't know until the probe gets there what else Pluto has up his sleeve!

Stay tuned, Pluto might be a planet after all!


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Current Mood: excited
Current Music: Ill never be your beast of burden

2 Dragons or Call a Dragon