Wednesday, June 29, 2016


Is it my misery that beckons you? Is it the pain that I suffer that invites your eyes? Is it the torment of my daily life or the once in the blue moon event that attracts your attention? Is it the muted cry of my humanness that plucks wildly at your heartstrings? Or is it the weakness of my being that encourages a look? What is it? What drives you to peer at my destiny? What makes you realign your focus? Is it empathy? Or is it to feed on my despair? Does that make you feel good about yourself? Does my misfortune make less yours? Do my cries wash your selfpity away? Am I the monster of your dreams gone ugly? Or am I the wretched soul that gives you comfort that you are not me? Where are you, at?

Or is it the art of tutoring? The fawning over tragedies that make for a resonating vibration, which has the magnetic pull since the invention of the written word. Shakespeare’s Hamlet, Macbeth and Romeo and Juliet, enjoy more recognition then comedies like Midsummer Nights Dream and Taming of the Shrew. Or is it the constant chatter of the pain of loneliness, the sense of ostracism from an inwardly turned society or just a game of the mind. Or do the far away Roman prisoners fighting for their lives idealized in movies, in the Coliseum bring forth the unholy desire to peer at a similar carnage?

Is it my fame that calls your attention? Is it my material trappings that invite your disdain? Is it my knowledge or my intellect or lack of it that triggers the belligerence? Is it the soft-spoken nature of truth that undoes your passionate anger towards success? Is it the blind rage towards the goals that I have achieved or desire? What is it? What drives you into this riveting narrow focus of hate directed towards me? Am I the monster that quashes your ego? Or am I the beacon of truth that you wish to demonize? Or is it my soul that I have carefully crafted over my lifetime to succeed that governs your wrath? What makes you greave in fits of anger directed at my visage that haunts your very being? What gives you such vehemence?

Or is it the greed and jealousy of a few that fan the flames of hate of the many, cloaking their better angels? Is it in us or is it inbred? Is it Darwinian or Lamarckian? Or is it the implied flow of human emotions festering like a sore sprinkled with salt? Where does this pain of greed originate that feeds and simultaneously bleeds us of our better self. What nerve root, what impulse, what receptors deliver and receive these poisoning emotions?

These are the questions that tear a soul apart. These questions force an inward look. These are the questions that change life. Answer them and then look at yourself. Answer them quietly in the comfort of your being and you will change – for the better. They will force you into a place where superficial comfort is not given entry. It is a lonely place, a place of horrors, of soul mutilation, of ego deflation, of ghostly demons, of the id forced beneath the murmurs of human thought. Go there and look deep and what might emerge is a pure soul. The soul of a human! The oneness of being! The solemnity of truth!


Saturday, June 18, 2016



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The mismeasure of life falls on shoulders that bear no burden. Now that is quite provocative a statement as any, don't you think? It is true! Here goes…

The Yesteryears:
In the world today Charles Dickens’ Thomas Gradgrind(s); he of the ready with “a pocket’s rule and a pair of scales,” excel in their merchandising, selling whatever it is they do not or need not understand, except in return, they must receive a fair amount of monetary advantage. They talk of measuring the essence of all things material. Indeed nothing can pass without a metric that cannot be reality-weighed in pounds, kilograms, tonnes or if not then by virtual means. Such recursive abstractions using manufactured evidence is the bane of true understanding. The days when Johannes Kepler stood on Tyco Brahe's shoulders and figured out the ellipses of the solar system and Sir Issac Newton's claim of the equatorial bulge of our earthly planet (26.58 miles) from the spin, are long gone. Gone also are the days of polymaths like Eratosthenes who calculated the earth's circumference in stadia and also created a sieve to determine the Prime numbers. Today it is "publish" nonsense or "perish," into academic oblivion.

Society has flourished with measurement. From the clay tablets of the 4000 BC to the modern day smart phones where abacus is but a long past antiquity. Today everything is being measured form body mass index to the Higgs Boson. And each measurement reflects a differing set of metrics. Some in weight (Archimedes and his “Eureka”), others in volume and even the tiny bosons in electromagnetic voltage (Higgs = 125 GeV). You see even Plato's Socrates had a detection meter called the “Elenchus,” which through questioning ultimately elicited the truth. Alas today, "sincerity and purpose" displace true rigor as the touchstone. We have fallen into the trap of shielding ourselves against questions to protect our vulnerable and unverifiable results. And to boot, those false prophets of measures are being associated/correlated/linked with other measures creating a a population of mis-measured "Roaches" that make it difficult to defy the inherent Augury.

The Yesterdays:
Erroneous numbers can cause economic damage when the metric of measurement is different. A $125 million Mars orbiter was lost in 1999 due to a serious mismeasure between the NASA and Lockheed Martin. One side used the English metric system and the the other used the conventional one. The net result was a spectacular news splash. Only after such a catastrophe and a quiet contest of the wills, did the rules of mental engagement change.

The Todays:
Today quantification is akin to reality and real science. "Economists" and "Scientists" revel in this measurement sort of thing. They measure a nation’s output in various different ways as GDP or GNP and Liabilities in the form of debt and deficit. All are material to a nation’s well being. Quite simply if you produce 2 of anything and consume 1 of the same then you will be 1 richer over time. The reverse is equally true making a nation poorer. Solutions from these gifted snake-oil people in a stagnating economy is "don't worry about the debt, print the money, spend with abandon and everyone will be happier," (I often wonder and worry about the "everyone") forgetting the value of the paper money will go down as there will be more of that paper around (inflation). The touchy feely state of affairs is cloaking the sense of foreboding temporarily, expertly employing, kicking the can down the road philosophy.

In medicine one wonders if Lord Kelvin’s, he of the absolute temperature fame, statement was taken to heart by the expert physicians, “when you can measure what you are speaking about and express it in numbers you know something about it, but when you cannot measure it numbers, your knowledge is of a meagre and unsatisfactory kind.” So every form of medical study to date about newer treatment has graphs and numbers that deal with benefits over something else as a means to convince others about the validity of the new treatment vs. the old. The manipulations of the numbers is a whole different story (Read: p-Hacking). As a consequence of this riddled thought 54% of all medical landmark studies cannot be validated in re-experiemtnation (Read: John Ionnadis).

Today we have gone into a “Measurement” overdrive. Using the computing power and a set of simple mathematical formulae with assumed variables quantified through axiomatic weighting we arrive at results that give us implied “Values” and “Benefits.” We determine statistically the Quality of Life using arbitrary numerical values laced with, again, assumptions that may or may not invoke Thomas Bayes’ name. Going far into the realm of this “Science” where everything has a weighted measure of value-that we pull out of a hat, we then ascribe a monetary reward for that achievement. It isn't anything like 1-lb of this equals 10 Shekels and therefore 2-lbs equals 20 Shekels. It is more like this ethereal “value” is worth 10 Shekels and failing the arbitrary metric of that value equals 0 Shekel or even -5 Shekels. And of course lack of value is a simple complaint away from the worker receiving any Shekels. The perpetual engine of revolution has ceased. No oil, no grease just a jammed up thought of yesterday’s todays.

The Mis-measure of Emotions:
Lets look at Satisfaction Scores as a measure of value. I leased a car from a car dealer and the salesman said, “You will receive an email asking if you are satisfied with our dealership. If you are not going to give us 5 stars then please call me before you submit that form.” Curious as to what the was about, I called him and lo and behold he said he would be willing to forgo the expense of the next car service charge. Some would consider that a bribe others would say “take it, what do you have to lose?” The problem is the awards emanating from the "award bestowing agencies" are fraught with hidden moral hazard. But you knew that already!

Taking that a step further, look at the “Pain” issue among patients. The Joint Commission for Hospitals and all "expert" endowed policy determiners recommended that “Pain” be considered a “5th Vital Sign.” In other words every doctor must assess the pain of his of her patient. And there were many formats to measure pain also devised by other well-meaning people. In one measure emoticons were used as means to determine intensity (Wong-Baker FACES). Patients needing pain medications used it to their advantage and a physician not wishing to get his “Satisfaction Score” in the gutter complied. Soon the opioid epidemic became a newsworthy item with “Breaking News” and “Alerts.” And a few doctors, worried about "Satisfaction Scores," on which depended their income got themselves into legal and regulatory muddle writing prescriptions with abandon. The husk of this ceaseless proliferating misinformation grows as the core of real knowledge atrophies and dies in the hearts and minds of those "grunting and sweating under the weary life.".

The Tomorrows:
The desire to measure is fed by our own hubris and grows and grows to overwhelm us with its unintended consequences. Today the elite speak only with the experts and the experts communicate only within themselves, thus propagating the myth of their "far-reaching knowledge and intellect." Thus the only piece of information is a rehashed version of manufactured evidence processed as knowledge and distributed via ventriloquists posing as teachers across the campuses.

"For who would bear the whips and scorns of time,
Th' oppressor’s wrong, the proud man’s contumely,
The pangs of despised love, the law’s delay,
The insolence of office, and the spurns
That patient merit of th' unworthy takes..."
Indeed, who would?
But the people with a conscience and the fear and dread of the potential ill that might befall them from the "slings and arrows," hurled at them via "The insolence of office."

So measurement used in things that remain unmeasurable creates a false sense of illusion of expertise and intellect.

The Warning:
Remember whenever numbers are thrown out and percentages are flickered on and off in conversations or written on paper, know to cast a weary eye on them. There is a deeper, darker and more sinister mechanism at play; Self Advantage under the guise of intellect. And if you should hear the words, “Public Good” be equally afraid. The real boogey man is nearby.

Be very leery about…

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Friday, June 10, 2016

BIRTH and DEATH (A Poem on How Cells Transcribe)


The ebb and flow

Of the storm;

Overhead crackles

And flashes of movement


The vacant crucible

Sits and ponders


The shell fluid

In motion,

Transmitting and morphing


The rash of messages

On passages that move,

The hum of machinery.

Action and reaction

Touch and turn

Each touch a turn

Each turn a touch.

Molecules within

Molecules around

Floating, ethereal.

Each molecule, a war

And peace within.

Captured in time,

Enslaved to the cause

Of motion.

Some blessed to grow

Others to cease.

Some move 

Others stand

Some change

Others hide,

Some ugly in folds

Reveal beauty in action

Others ethereal in looks

Sit idly by.

Time lingers

As each motion intensifies

The girding machine rumbles

In silence.

There are no cynics

No arbiters

Only touch and go

And time.

The epi on genes

Like an umbrella

Of shades.

A fountain

Of truths.

Of present and days of yore

Of futures to be realized

Of stories yet to be told.

Sunk in the touch.

How this fits

And that doesn't

How this molds

And that swims away.

Motion, is all

Yet all is in mirth.

Transcribing they touch

The actions of another.

In so doing, death

In so doing, birth.