(In order to understand this, the reader will need to be familiar with the pixilated drawings of the 1990’s that presented a indistinct primary impression under which lay a distinct representation created by the psychological concept of closure, from which the mind reinterpreted chaos as a cartographic image of its inner workings; differing from a Rorschach Test only in the objective viewpoint of the creation of the images, neither of which are there simultaneously, or at all.)
It is a comfort to me that genetically altered grain can still be ground by the stones of the New England mills and produce a flour that is virtually indistinguishable from that which fed the Founding Fathers. There is a constancy, consistency of force at work in this, which, in times of great change and upheaval, people cling to as an absolute vindication of not just the past but progress as well. The actual product of that current milling would be, of course, abhorrent to our progenitors, devoid as it is in the sustenance that made the endeavor necessary, and would make them reconsider the execution, as well as the intent, of the process. The current argument is “that can not be known to a certainty” and we only have the words they wrote down by which to move forward, none of which speak specifically about wheat.
Little else has changed since their times, fortunately, so we can still take all their words to heart as the literal foundations of life and we are forever thankful that they did all our thinking for us. They are, in some ways, a proof of Einstein’s non-linear time in that they seem to have traveled back in time with all the answers we will ever need or, perhaps so divinely inspired were they, that reality itself kneels before them awaiting direction? In either case, they are our shield through which no harm may pass and we have only to wait until the battles are won for us.
Still the pillory awaits subversives. It was good enough for them, we should be thankful it was perpetuated to guide us as it guided them. They knew that, with suffering, wisdom comes, so the more repressive they were, the faster the society would progress. They knew that might made right and that the hand that cocks the hammer rules the world. It is humbling to consider when taken en masse. Hang on a second let me find that passage for you…well, I know it’s in there, it has to be…
Really, what does human suffering matter when the words of these men live on in our minds as absolute, immortal, inviolate? They are as alive there as their words and stand beside us in our calamities. Well, not literally, that would be absurd and I just can’t imagine Thomas Jefferson just standing there watching this…and yet I can…and yet I can’t…and yet I can…and yet I can’t.
Now they’re both gone, the man and the words and it’s like it never was.
Surreal.
It is a comfort to me that genetically altered grain can still be ground by the stones of the New England mills and produce a flour that is virtually indistinguishable from that which fed the Founding Fathers. There is a constancy, consistency of force at work in this, which, in times of great change and upheaval, people cling to as an absolute vindication of not just the past but progress as well. The actual product of that current milling would be, of course, abhorrent to our progenitors, devoid as it is in the sustenance that made the endeavor necessary, and would make them reconsider the execution, as well as the intent, of the process. The current argument is “that can not be known to a certainty” and we only have the words they wrote down by which to move forward, none of which speak specifically about wheat.
Little else has changed since their times, fortunately, so we can still take all their words to heart as the literal foundations of life and we are forever thankful that they did all our thinking for us. They are, in some ways, a proof of Einstein’s non-linear time in that they seem to have traveled back in time with all the answers we will ever need or, perhaps so divinely inspired were they, that reality itself kneels before them awaiting direction? In either case, they are our shield through which no harm may pass and we have only to wait until the battles are won for us.
Still the pillory awaits subversives. It was good enough for them, we should be thankful it was perpetuated to guide us as it guided them. They knew that, with suffering, wisdom comes, so the more repressive they were, the faster the society would progress. They knew that might made right and that the hand that cocks the hammer rules the world. It is humbling to consider when taken en masse. Hang on a second let me find that passage for you…well, I know it’s in there, it has to be…
Really, what does human suffering matter when the words of these men live on in our minds as absolute, immortal, inviolate? They are as alive there as their words and stand beside us in our calamities. Well, not literally, that would be absurd and I just can’t imagine Thomas Jefferson just standing there watching this…and yet I can…and yet I can’t…and yet I can…and yet I can’t.
Now they’re both gone, the man and the words and it’s like it never was.
Surreal.
