Monday, June 9, 2014

“Oswald was patsy!” MI-6 agent claims.

Macau, China. Recently revived from 50-some years of storage in a cryonic facility in Macau, China, MI-6 “commander” James Bond is, if not in fact than in majority opinion (lay and scientific), whom he claims to be, according to genetic evidence—a 100% DNA match, based on 1963 samples—although “doubters” cast doubt on reliability and authenticity of same. Leaving said controversy aside, is Bond to be believed?

Bond's claims are nothing less than shocking. If true, we are shocked indeed. How shocked?

Let the facts or claims speak for themselves.

“Oswald was a patsy!” Bond claimed, in a recent televised and recorded statement referring to Lee Harvey Oswald. “He was a wetworks agent assigned to Felix Leiter, my CIA counterpart.”

By way of explanation, Bond elaborated that Oswald’s mission was one of insertion, deception and prevention. Of what? Specifically, the 1963 assassination of United States of America President John Fitzgerald Kennedy.

“I thought he was on drugs,” Bond recalled ruefully, referring to Oswald and not President Kennedy. “The CIA hadthere was all that Owsley LSD stuff floating around at the time, and some of it had clearly floated his way. At least that’s what I assumed when he started going on the way he did.”

According to Bond, during his time as a supposed “defector” in the USSR, Oswald claimed to have infiltrated a SMERSH operational unit based in the outskirts of Yalta—and possessing a humid, hot climate similar to that of Dallas, Texas.

“Oswald was always on about that," Bond asserted. "He said they’d created the whole goddamned street. By which I mean Elm Street—the bloody street in front of the Texas School Book Depository and all the rest of it.” The former MI-6 agent went on to say that the procession of JFK’s motorcade (and the President's subsequent assassination by triangulated crossfire) had been repeatedly rehearsed—according to Oswald's story.

Bond added that, "The story was crazy. But the story checked out."

According to Bond, once his doubts ended, his mission began.

Oswald, meanwhile, had a double mission. From a Soviet perspective?

“Oswald was meant to draw fire and attract police attention,” Bond affirmed. “The killshot was never Oswald’s job. Getting caught bloody well was. During his inevitable trial, he had a rehearsed speech spilling the details of Operation Mongoose—that stupid CIA plot to assassinate Castro with pornography or exploding cigars or some shite of that variety, in case you’re wondering. Oswald would openly boast of Castro’s revenge and bloody well dare the USA to start World War III. The Soviets assumed the stupid USA wouldn’t be that bloody stupid—and look impotent and ineffectual as a result. All the Lumumbas they had under their thumb would have a field day."

Instead, Bond and Oswald worked together to thwart the plan with a counter-scheme involving lasers and explosions.

“It was sodding brilliant,” recalled Bond. “We’d all be smoking cigars and ballenjoying ourselves in Jamaica in the end.”

Instead, Bond experienced a sudden blackout. And a rude awakening.

“I woke up in this shitty place called The Village,” he said wistfully. “Lots of parades and stupid conformity and this fucking balloon that would eat you. I hated it. Never fit in, really.”

According to Bond, that’s why they put him to sleep.

“Next thing I knew, I woke up in Macao in 2014,” he said. “All these Chinese doctors grinning at me. ‘The joke’s on you,’ they said. But I knew better."

A rueful expression crossed Bond's apparently 36-year-old face.

“It was really on Oswald. Lee, I should say. Lee. Poor bastardbrothers in arms, and such. I hate what they did to him, really hate it. He really was a bloody patsy, just like he said. The joke was on him, wasn’t it?”

From "Duh" to "Ah-ha!" in 60 seconds

Your best ideas always pop up right after you experience the, “Aggghhhh. I have no ideas! I can’t think! I’m an idiot! Everything I say is stupid!” moment. Always.


Why is that?

Because the mind hates thinking.

Paradox, ain’t it?

Yeah. Nonetheless true. And the mind has its reasons.

Thinking is work. Chances are (once we finally reverse engineer the meat computers in our skulls) that’ll turn out to be literally true. X foot pounds of energy expended for every bright idea.

The lazy mind doesn’t want to expend that energy.

It wants formulas, shortcuts, stolen ideas, accepted ideas, clich├ęs, truisms, knee-jerk reactions, rote responses, herd instinct, convention and prejudice.

Anything but X.

The unknown.

A question you don’t already know the answer to.

The blank space of an honest question.

The mind hates that space.

I don’t get it, I don’t know, I don’t know what I don’t know, agghhhhhh.

To confront that blank space?

To actually think about SOMETHING YOU DON’T KNOW?
The mind reacts like a rabbit with its leg in a trap. It’d rather gnaw its freaking leg off than stay stuck there.
Thus, the mind returns to its tiny box of stock responses.

Say … Answer #452: “Wedge of cheese.”

Q: What is the air-speed velocity of an unladen swallow?

A: Wedge of cheese!

You know the answer is shit. But you don’t wanna think about the question.

Dig it, baby.

The incredibly stupid reason you don’t know the answer? You’re not actually thinking about the question!

You’re pretending to think about it. But you ain’t!

If you’re forced to think about it…

Eventually, after much thrashing about, you do.

You go through that moment …

Aggghhhh. I have no ideas! I can’t think! I’m an idiot! Everything I say is stupid!

And there it is.

Monday, June 2, 2014

Help ... Jane ... stop this crazy thing!!!!!!!

The chirpy NPR headline reads: "With The Internet Of Things, The Jetsons Lifestyle Is Upon Us." Yeah. Cute. Jetsons. That cartoon from the 1960s about a middle-class family living in a Rube Goldberg future where stuff didn't really work.

So, Audie Cornish speaks with Alex Hawkinson, CEO of this start-up company called SmartThings. Alex boasts that the so-called "Internet of Things" will connectivize your refrigerator and TV set. It'll give your doctor access to your vital stats. Have a check-up, never leave home.

"Yeah, cool," says Audie.  "But what about the potential for hacking?"

"Oh," says Alex with Jesuit-like logical acuity. "We can't sell this crap without privacy. QED: by the time we sell this crap, we'll have privacy nailed down." 

Check and mate, eh?