Jubilee 2000 / Debt

If you want to talk money, start here. This will put debt into historical context starting after World War II. You will learn how money, debt, and trade are all manipulated to keep all of us enslaved.


Two of the most influential lectures I had were both given by the Catholic Church. This one is the first one and I was very impressed with the Social Justice Committees and people I met there.

The lecture was given by Paul Shibli and his brother who is a Brother in the Catholic Church, he gave the lecture to the high school teachers. I was with Paul and the elementary teachers for a PA Day at St. Paul's School in Trenton, ON. I was there as a guest repressing Author Frederic Community Builders as a witness.

 (Okay, so i cheated. I attached some scans for a lecture I took in the year 2000. I have them on a floppy but who has a floppy any more?)

Great sex.

Great sex is saving the world.

The future isn't hard core sex, XXX, or hot babes selling cars. The future will be soft and moist and warm. It’s no longer going to be the domination of one nation over another; it’s going to be nurturing each other and enjoying our difference.
 

The future won’t be plastic injected or steroid pumped. You won't need to look like Barbie or Arnie, a supper hero or a Walt Disney image of the perfect female form. It will be organic and fresh, healthy and wholesome. Breasts will no longer feel like silicon gel, but once again the softness of flesh.

The future won’t bring you millions at the expense of others working as salves in a foreign sweat shop. The future will bring you joy in helping to bring equality to all. Your shoes will be made by your neighbour down the street, and they’ll last you a decade instead of a week.

The future won’t look like a mall, a parking lot, or another land fill. The future will look more like a swamp full of insects and animals, and flow into sweet water streams and drinkable lakes. You will wander down at sunrise and catch your breakfast and pick some fruit.

The future will not be a Monsanto mono-crop of miles and miles and miles of soy been and corn and pork belly futures. It will be grown in your yard and the empty lot down the street. It won’t be littered with bill boards or logos, the streets will be lined to flowers and trees and birds and bees.

The future there won’t be 10,000 swine kept in small pens in a barn, but you will be able to hunt in the wilds down your lane.

The future won’t be in more power, more oil, more nukes, more people tied to making money from the grid. Conservative will pay huge dividends in the health of the earth. We will love the time that not having to produce all that energy saves, and having to work and paying like slaves. We will have the time to create the joy that making love brings.

In the future you won’t want to be famous for how much money you make because it won’t be grossly more then anyone else. Everyone that plays will be a superstar. Anyone that can sing, will. Then greed will no longer be able guide our way, we'll all be able to afford everything we want.

We won’t need armies to defend ourselves from each other, our forces will be joined to help those in need after another tsunami, hurricane, or flood.

Medicine will no longer be made for profit, but only for the good feeling of helping one another brings.

We can’t dominate each other as the last centuries have proven. We can’t dominate nature as the last decades brought have not brought us health and wealth but more and more disaster, pollution, floods and scorched earth. We can however, nurture nature and each other for the benefit all life on earth. 
 

In the future hard core will get old fast, but orgasms that last for hours will fill your days and nights…

In the future art of war is the art of making love. 

It's going to be soft and sweet, a reflection of your pure soul in the arms of another.

 

Finding Jessica Lyod

Finding Jessica Lloyd.

On the Sunday night before his arrest was announced I told a group of friends at a dinner party that the murderer of Jessica Lloyd had been found and it was someone in the Military.

My friends had asked me to join the search for Jessica, one was Jessica's Aunt. That week the divers were searching the river along my property looking for her body. I had to work so the first day I could help was Sunday. 

I know the river very well. I grew up on the river since the end of the 60’s. I know all the spots especially below the dam on my side. I walked the frozen shore downstream looking in all the places the divers would have missed. 

When I came to the spot where my property ends I turned due south to walk my property line first before going down the river further. The line went through the thick cedar and maple trees. I could see a large oak on the property line and I walked towards it with a large pine at my back at the rivers edge. From the first large oak it could see another and I made a line in the snow towards it. It was a good time for me to mark my property line as well. I came to a point where a small pond, Peeper Pond, crossed my path. Normally this is muddy and I could never tell exactly how much of the pond was on my side.

As I approached the pond there were a few fallen cedar trees directly in my path. I picked up a stick and placed it on the fallen cedars to mark my spot in line with big oak behind me and the big oak in front of me.

The pond was frozen so I walked around the fallen cedars and onto the ice and then back to line myself up with the property line. I faced the stick that I left like a cross hair on the cedar and the big oak I used as the marker behind me. Then I turned to line myself up with the big oak to the south. Then I notice something on the snow covered ice. My stick pointed directly at at.

I slowly walked forward. There were tracks in the snow on the pond. As I walked closer, at about two meters away I saw what it was.

A bone.

It looked like a hip done cut with a saw. It was a thin piece about two inches think.

I found Jessica’s bones in my woods; right on my property line and I had walked a straight line directly to it.

I almost threw up. 

The only reason I didn’t throw up was because I didn’t want to contaminate a crime scene. After a few minutes I walked backwards, step for step in the snow. When I was off the ice I turned and walked then ran step for step all the way back to the car. My cell doesn’t work in the woods so I left it there.

I called 911. The gave me the number for the hotline dealing with Jessica. I reported that I found her bones and my address. I was told to wait.

And wait I did. For about two hours. No one came. I expected a huge team of forensic experts to arrive. They never came.

On Thursday before I had told friends it was someone in the Military. I am an outspoken peace activist and had called three of Canada's top brass war criminals in the past week. Did they plant her body on my property to frame me?

So I decided that this was my only time to gather evidence before it gets buried like all the other missing women in my area over the years.

I went back into the woods and followed my trail back to Peeper Pond.

I made I wide circle around the bones so I could follow the tracks.

They weren’t human. They were dog tracks. Someone had cut up her body and dumped it and the dogs had found the bones and carried them into the woods.

About 20 minutes later I found another bone. I called my friend from the woods and told her what I hand found. She is a nurse so I described the bone. She told me to call the hotline again. I did and reported the second bone.

As you can imagine, at this point I thought I had found evidence of Jessica’s murder. There were numerous dog tracks, a small pack leading in many directions. I followed my property line. At the top of a big hill as I was coming out to the road I followed the path of the dogs. I could smell something… see something. Almost throwing up I walked forward. 

I found a pile of butchered carcases. Deer, a small calf and sheep. Dog tracks all over.

That night at a dinner party I said that Jessica’s murderer had been arrested and it was someone in the military. 

On Monday February 8 it was announced that someone was being questioned for Jessica’s disappearance. 

How did I know it was someone in the Military?

Our children need us to evolve.

You say you want an evolution?

See, Gandhi was a Revolution
and India revolved
and ended up still
under British Bank Control

The same thing happened with
The American Revolution
The same Bankers have control
... this is our chance to

Evolve

We have the Treaties.

And as a Settler I put my vote with the treaties and demand the same fairness for all Canadians.

If you can see the Big Picture
of our last 500 years
and the History of the last few Decade
and the War on Everything

We can live as gods and goddesses in this Garden by sharing 15% of the wealth. This was "the good life" after WWII when you could make a good living building a car with a cottage, health care, and a retirement package...

But all that has been Inflated away
to end up in the hands
of the Bankers
and we get the Bailouts

Or soon we live off 7% like the rest of the world under control of the Military Industrial Complex.

Iceland did it.

Can we?

Iceland needs us to make it and so does the rest of the world living in poverty.

Our children need us to evolve.

Kisser Orange

Kisser Orange

The original colour of my 69 Camaro was called “Hugger Orange” but like a few things on the car, the cam, the carburetor, the manual transmission and the rear end where not original. I bought it from my cousin and he also repainted it… it had a little more red in it than the original colour. It was most likely the fastest car in my city at the time, though I did lose a couple of times off the start line nothing could touch at 45 mph and up. I had it more balanced as a European car, made for corners, than the usual drag car with big back tires and small front with no control. 

I taught my first girlfriend how to drive in it… she taught me how to kiss. Or at least she was the first girl I kissed. She was a few years younger than me and I took her to graduation. I was very nervous in the parking lot attempting new first inexperienced kiss with someone more experienced than I. So we kissed… and kissed… and finally after about 20 minutes she stopped and said “oh my God!”. And I thought I was doing something horribly wrong even though I thought it felt so good. Instead she told me she was worried at first because I had never kissed anyone before but I was the best kisser ever! I was only doing what she did. I have always been a natural and have a love of kissing that continues to today.

So we spent a lot of time in that car learning to drive and kissing. We had a great friendship, she dated other people, because she was young she said, but we always ended up together. That is until she lied to me and slept with a close friend. Which was funny because we weren’t sleeping together, but not funny because they both lied to me for a few weeks until I found her necklace behind the cushions of his couch.

We had an agreement to always be friends and to meet each September. We had done that for a few years. Then next September she called to meet but I wouldn’t do it. Friends never lie I told her. She had dated other friends and people before and that was fine… but she never lied until that time. 

Years later she came to see me when she was getting married. We had a great conversation and I was able to forgive her… the guy, from seeing what he has turned into, was never worth forgiving.

Last year she called me again. She was restoring a 69 Camaro and wanted to know the paint colour of my car was.

“Kisser Orange” I told her. She called back and said the closest factory colour she could find was called “Hugger Orange”. 

So I teased her about the “kisser” colour and made her promise to pick me up and take me for a drive.

… you never know how you affect people…

The Story of P

In computational complexity theory, P, also known as PTIME or DTIME(nO(1)), is one of the most fundamental complexity classes. It contains all decision problems which can be solved by a deterministic Turing machine using a polynomial amount... of computation time, or polynomial time.

Cobham's thesis holds that P is the class of computational problems which are "efficiently solvable" or "tractable"; in practice, some problems not known to be in P have practical solutions, and some that are in P do not, but this is a useful rule of thumb.

P ( /ˈpiː/; named pee) is the sixteenth letter of the basic modern Latin alphabet.

P as 16 is 1 + 6 = 7.

Seven means:

You are analytical, intellectual, focused, scientific and inventive, contemplative, meditative, spiritual and enigmatic. You are a seeker of truth and an accumulator of knowledge and wisdom.

You prefer working alone and you need space and privacy. You enjoy solitude, but you also like to display your knowledge in public. You are an abstract thinker, you are self-oriented, a perfectionist and you possess great mental strength

P: as in pluck... that's plural for luck. So wish me pluck as i take off like a backword flying wild duck.

P is a voiceless bilabial plosive. Voiceless P:

P also represents the voiceless labiodental fricative. (f) as in ph.

P is powerful and peaceful. http://www.facebook.com/#!/pages/Powerfully-and-Peacefully/132506896806430

P is also (f) the feminine to the masculine p:

Sept 19, notes from a golf course original send by Blackberry but lost in the ether of the net.

P is for Pkiss and that's plural for kiss, and for passionate kisses; plural for the sharing of a passionate kiss as kissing does take two . While most men come to a golf course to play golf i choose to sit and ponder the perfect grace of a kiss. But then, like Tom Robbins, i'm one of those men that "hates golf, loves women" and would rather be under the influence of a kiss then chase a little ball around a hole under the influence of beer (don't worry Robbins i have also danced with the beer fairies but prefer hope to hops). So rather than practice my putting or driving a bucket o'balls i spent my time pondering the grace of a kiss... or rather the grace of pkissing.

I had an opportunity to try and kiss and smile. It took some practice and persistence to kiss one because i have found that when one approaches a smile with a pucker the smile one is trying to kiss instinctively turns into a pucker sending the smile into hiding. Smiles must be very shy of a kiss even though it is the smile that attracts the kiss. But with repeated effort i was able to actually kiss a smile and it turned instantly into a laugh leaving the smile exposed to be kissed repeatedly resulting in a perpetual smile laughter kissing cycle that was very hard to end… and not because I wanted it to end… but one does have other obligations to life (do I have my priorities straight?). Which i must admit was the best kisses, (or is that pkisses?) that i have ever shared.

So if you ever have a chance to kiss a smile it is worth the effort as a smile once kissed turns into laughter resulting the effortless creation of joy. Or at least that was my experience. I will be sure to repeat this as often as possible just to be sure that the results are consistent.

p

Wage love, be peace

Wage love

Now is the time to speak
while I still have a voice
for all those that cannot be heard
for those that have been silenced

By fear and by death.

War is manufactured and sold to us
in little sound bites of truth
repeated over and over

No need to ask more questions.

Trust in God.

We need to make them pay

for what they have done to us.

Shells are packaged like
shiny new i-pods
gift wrapped
with messages for the dead.

It's the same war,
it's been fought on many continents
over many decades,
run by the same 'filthy rich bastards'

Pretending to fight with each other

selling both sides arms
rather than share the earth’s natural recourses
with the rest of humanity

They own the media,
we own the truth.

They own the bombs and the planes,
the technology and destruction,
the torture and the shock,
the press and the print.

We are the poor, the dead and the dying
the ones living in fear
paying with our taxes and lives
killing our neighbours with our children.

9/11
Shock and Awe

 

The shock is wearing off
information is shock resistant
arm yourself
with the truth.

I speak for all those that have died
so I can eat cheap bananas.
Our skyscrapers reflect
their shanty town huts.

I cry for the dead children
in Afghanistan and Iraq
and the hatred
that their grieving families bare.

I take off my hat

for the soldiers that have died

believing they are serving

a noble cause.

I hang my head
for the shoes that I have worn
for the cloths that I wear

for the stocks that I buy.

I sing with all those
that now see the truth
after the dust has settled
and the shock has worn off.

 

I dance with the dead,
the terrorist and the soldiers
both abused by the lies of the leaders
with promises of 50 virgins or streets paved with gold.

 

I pray to the children
hungry on the streets
in a country ravaged by our richness.
Debt, pollution and poverty left in our wake.

 

I hold hands
with all those that will not pick up a gun
with all those that know;
War is not the answer. 

Be peace

... chills deep in my soul

I knew he was a creep when I shook his hand. I have met many high ranking people in the Military but I could tell this man was my mortal enemy when I looked into his eyes. He gave me the chills deep in my soul. 

I was called to the base for a film shoot. I was working for the Producer on a very big film. Big and green, they were blowing stuff up and setting it on fire. Like usual they were behind schedule. Nothing new to me, I have worked for the film industry before.

The Producer asked if I could set the tent up a 6 AM the next morning and have it ready to serve lunch under by noon. No problem I said. This was three days late from the initial set up time. I told him I would bring enough people to have the tent ready to seat 200 people by 9 AM. Then I said “zero nine hundred” just to be a smart ass in front of the military dude guy.

Then the Producer asked this macho military dude if he could have his troops ready for 9 AM the next day. The Military dude went on and on about how it was supposed to happen three days ago and he didn’t know if he could do it tomorrow. He made a list of problems and concerns. I thought what would happen to this guy in battle? Finally a woman in uniform spoke up that was quietly standing beside him and said confidently to the Producer, “no problem sir”.

She was a very attractive woman, a healthy happy Canadian female. Except that she was in the Air Force I could tell we would like each other. She had that look, that confidence. She looked at me and smiled. I wondered if she was single and if I had seen her profile on a dating site. She seemed familiar. I never fraternize with people that I meet at work… I was hoping that I had already made contact with her. (This dating site will be mentioned in other stories.)

Then the Producer told us that because of the type shoot he could not promise when he would be done. He asked me how long I needed to strike the tents. “Three hours” I told him. He asked how much warning I needed. I told him that if he paid me and my crew to be on standby we would be here in an hour or if we were not on call I then I would need four hours to call a crew in and get here. He took the four hour option and I gave him my card with my cell phone. Done.

Then he asked the military dude about the troops, that he would need them on call for the next two to three days depending on the weather and light. The military dude in his flight suit went on and on about what a problem this was. I was thinking again how this dude would be a big fail in a war. Finally the woman spoke up and said to the Producer, “not a problem sir”.

I went back to my truck and got in. My employee served in the military. “Do you know who you were talking too?”

“Ya, some arrogant cocky asshole that could not find his way out of the officer’s mess tent without that woman beside him.”

“That was the Base Commander; no one gets to talk to the Base Commander.” 

“Well, he’s a creep; just here to hang with the movie stars I bet.”

The Base Commander is now a very famous “not” Colonel.  

And I think the female officer was one of his victims.

The Art of Making Love

I met an Asian woman that was studying English as a second language at our local college. We dated a few times and our different cultures always gave us lots to talk about. In her language she said there was no term for “fuck” the way we in North America use it when we are angry. The word they used for “fuck”, which I have now forgotten, could be translated to mean “the art of making love”.

She was short and sweet and fit so nicely into my arms, our kisses were soft and gentle and delicious. She said she loved my gentle ways. I was so looking forward to making art with her. We got along so well.

She said I was different from all the North American men that she had met. She said her friends called North American men either “coke” or “fuck”. I suggested they could also call them “beer”. She laughed. I think I came up with a few other names for them. 

I told her that she could call me “fuck” but to never call me “coke”. I was trying to make a joke and point out that I do not drink coke or beer but I would love to be called “the art of making love”. I told her that buying a coke was against my religion. Just like shopping at Walmart. 

She said that she had dishonoured me and that she could never see me again. 

And that was the last I ever saw of her.

hop skip jump

hop hop

I trust that I know more than I know now. So now I jump “with reckless abandon” (Castaneda) into everything once I have pondered all the options. I am no longer afraid. No longer afraid of what lies under the surface because I know I act out of love and not out of some other “need” hidden under the shell of who I am. I have “absolute trust in the goodness of the earth”. I know I am “one of the ones we have been waiting for” (Alice Walker). And I know myself very very well...

hop   

Even when I fall off my horse he stops and stands beside me. Not falling means not trying. It means staying in your safety zone.

And I love flying.

I no longer “fall in love”.

I “fly in love”.

Landing is after all just a controlled crash. And I have always thrived (not just survived) from the experiences. “If you are prepared to fly, you must be prepared to fall”. (I will have to find that song again!) And if you are prepared to fall... you must be prepared to crash.

hop

It’s a style of writing I came up with years ago. To simulate how we hop from one thought to the next. Much like an i-pod on shuffle. To be as un-academic as possible. To be as organic as possible.

hop  

It’s also my practice of being ready for the next challenge, to have a solid launching pad (or is that pod?) to take off from and land on. One must have a solid pad (or is that pod?) to blast off from and know the base of who and what I am to have a place to land and recuperate on... to get ready for the next blast off...

The pad (or is that pod?) is named that because it is swampy, organic, ancient and at the same time like a modern launch pad, cutting edge, a place to blast off from with all the aids of current information and technology. It’s also a place to wrap myself in. To morph into and out of. To grow a new tail... to lose one. A pad (or is that a pod?) on which to rest while my new wings dry.

skip

We once thought that DNA was solid, a compete sequence limiting us what we can be. Our genetic fate. We thought of it as read-only disc. Now we see it as more of a read-write disc and we can influence what is written and therefore what is read.

We cannot change our DNA, we can however effect which strands we activate and use to grow from by changing the wrapper.

We can change the wrapper in which we hold our DNA. We can accept the wrapper we are given, one made out of Chief Boyardee, GMO’s and hydrogenated oils or we can build our wrapper out of the organic goodness of the earth. 

   

It may not save us from getting cancer or some other disease but it does give us a ‘chance’. A chance to...

jump

be the hop,

paul