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Rabbits, Eggs and Crucifixions

Posted on March 29, 2013 by Professor Taboo

On this Good Friday and upcoming Easter Sunday, I am reminded again of my many years of Christian fundamentalism and fervor for all things sacred and committed. Three-hundred and sixty-two days out of the year I am typically respectful and tolerant of opposing and differing world-views and faiths. But during those bygone years and Easter weekends I was utterly baffled and amazed of the hundreds, maybe thousands of followers and believers that came out of the woodwork; out of nowhere! Never before had I seen so many unrecognizable faces and families! The outfits and hats, some of them gaudy, you thought you had taken a wrong turn to the red carpet of the Oscars. On top of this awe was the fact that on this particular Sunday I and my family, as weekly members, would have to walk three-times further from our car to enter and exit our church. The parking lot and spaces were filled to capacity that would challenge even Super Bowl Sunday! What saddened me was that I would never see their faces again; maybe I would see them a year later. Maybe.

Having gone to seminary for three years, learning the New Testament inside and out, and knowing (and back then complying) what God’s holy infallible scriptures direct us to do…. there was no possible way for anyone with at least a 9th-grade reading level to not at least comprehend what our/the “Savior” was asking us to do on a daily weekly basis. As a result, Easter Sunday became one of my least favorite Sundays of the entire year. I had developed an unattractive distaste for what it had become: wayward and diluted.

Many things have now changed in my life and I’m happy to say, that in a spiritual, emotional, and mental aspect, for the better. The comical irony of those changes would makeup another post of which I will spare all of you this time. However, in the spirit of the day and holiday weekend, I will share two of my favorite 3-minute songs from Monty Python’s The Meaning of Life and The Life of Brian. These songs always make me smile and happy. Don’t take things too serious but enjoy your holiday weekend in whatever manner you see fit — this is my way. And with that…. Live well, Love much, Laugh often, Learn always.

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The A-C of Steampunk

Posted on March 23, 2013 by Professor Taboo

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1893 World’s Fair Chicago

The time was spring 1893 and the civilized western world was eagerly awaiting the start of the Chicago World’s Fair. For months everyone had heard of a new technology that could light up entire cities without a drop of kerosene, the flicker of flame, or choking smoke. No, it was not Thomas Edison’s light-bulbs, but Nikola Tesla’s waves of alternating currents that would illuminate the Fair’s entire neo-classical city, as if to bring back the great minds of Greece into the Victorian-era of technology. President Grover Cleveland pushed a button and thousands of incandescent lamps lit-up the fairgrounds like little full moons. The world would never be the same again. Imagine yourself in that place, at that time, and all you had known at night was the bleak shimmering glow of yellow-orange hue around you. Now you see everything under bright white beams that evaporate darkness.

What that night must have felt like — hearing all the on-looking gasps — I can only dream and sigh.

The Victorian-era was a thriving age of science, history, literature, exquisite fashion and art. And although it had its inhumanity in such things as child labor and women’s suffrage, to name two, it is the origins of remarkable discoveries in medical vaccines, anatomy, chemistry, and physics (including the first ceramic toilet) that soon made the world a little easier to bear. Today’s Steampunk is a tribute to those virtues.

The slide show below is for your modern-historical enlightenment of a few Neo-Victorian contraptions you might find at Steampunk shoppes or conventions.

Due to caption limitations of the slide viewer, I will expand a bit more here on some of the images. The Time Travel Marker is worn like a wrist watch and tracks your present locale in the time-space continuum. The Storytelling Machine is quite fascinating. You choose a marble, roll it down a shoot, and when it hits the bottom a story plays out the gramophone. It is also capable of detecting trolls. The Zoopraxiscope is an early version of blending a sewing machine, lantern, and images to produce the first prototype film projector. The Gravity Reduction Instrument reduces an object’s gravity field rendering it weightless. Dr. Evermor’s Forevertron sculpture stands 50-ft high and 120-ft wide, and transports you into any timeframe your heart desires. The Edison Bi-polar Electric Fan will convert your present neurological condition into its reciprocal by 3-minutes of inhalation…or perspiration! And the Steampunk Smartphone is the ancestor to the iPhones and Smartphones of today.

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I hope this brief post conveys to you the allure of Steampunk. I am in love with it because of my passion for history, ingenuity, science, and the brilliance of an applied mind for the greater social good. I’m an addict for its zaniness; oh what I would give to go back for a day! Every year the fashion of Steampunk blows my mind – the women’s side is pure romance – a hypnotic side for me I did not delve into this time to my heart’s disappointment. Ah, but I will soon!

Think where we might be (or not be) today had the telegraph, telephone, or AC electricity not been discovered, utilized, and perfected. You wouldn’t be reading this now. Think what we might not be listening to or dancing to had the gramophone or record player not been dabbled with and perfected. Modern America and Europe owe much of their better, healthier, educated lifestyles to the genius of Victorian doctors and scientists. Imagine if Bohr, Newton, Tesla, Einstein or Edison had not asked why over and over, or dreamt what could be and not asked why not. Imagine that we still lived in an age where we are told what to think rather than taught how to think. Steampunk is an artistic expression of that unrestraint with homage to its ancestors.

“Imagination is everything. It is the preview of life’s coming attractions.” – Albert Einstein

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The Illusion Game

Posted on March 19, 2013 by Professor Taboo

In a university laboratory a scientist is collecting data and reactions of a student wearing high-tech goggles showing him what seems to be his own blue-jeans from the waist to his white-socked feet. Right next to the student is a manikin with the same jeans and socks wired with a real-time video feed into his goggles. As the scientist uses a soft brush to rub the manikin’s left-leg the student’s left-leg is also physically rubbed with an exact same brush, the student sees through his goggles and so feels the sensation on his left-leg. All neurological connections for the test student are accurate.

The scientist then puts a large kitchen knife in front of the manikin’s camera near the manikin’s zipper. Seeing this real-time knife in his goggles, the test student’s pulse heightens and begins to race. The scientist turns the knife downward, raises it, and suddenly stabs the test student in the crotch. The test student jumps, in fact, jumps violently. What has just happened?

The power of optical illusion is far more reaching and subtle than we sometimes know; so much so that the illusions can make us react in completely unverified ways.

Bars and clubs — there are likely no better examples of optical illusions than in places that welcome or promote “attraction” between the sexes or same-sexes; gender identity or orientation is irrelevant when it comes to The Game and profits. And the online dating websites are no exception either. Does this mean “avoid at all costs?” Certainly not! What it does mean is go in with active brain-cells and no illusions. The adage “You get what you put in” is the bottom-line and that adage is so damn true in almost ANY place and circumstance, not just the bars, clubs, and dating websites.

I have come up with one of my best approach-lines ever in my 30+ years of ‘exploration’ and fun: “Do you believe in the power of optical illusions?” Nine times out of ten the answer gives me the desired result. Sometimes I’d get the answer “What, objects in your mirror appear larger than they are?” But even better, the benefit is ultimately two-way: is my first-impression a high ROI (Return on Investment), or a flop? And based on that answer the same question is extracted from the recipient: what are they there for? What kind of ROI are they seeking? Next step. The same process works just as well online too.

Do you believe in the power of illusion?

The next step after the approach-question is just as revealing: “Do you believe in the power of verbal illusions?” Same concept, varied results. And with those varied results comes a clearer picture of the subject – which in all honesty reflects you as well. Your inquiries reflect what you are after. And none of it is inherently wrong or bad as long as the two (or group) understand what is being expressed. How often do you think that happens?

In the end I think it all comes down to this: Say what you mean and do what you say. If either of these are out of sync, then you have only yourself to turn to and re-examine.

Garbage in…garbage out. Garbage outward…garbage inward. Exquisite out…exquisite in. Beauty outward… beauty inward. Get the picture? Don’t be fooled by all the optical and verbal illusions. Question everything! More precisely, question everything you put outward and you’ll understand what you are attracting. I believe they call that The Laws of Attraction?

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Despite the Risks

Posted on March 12, 2013 by Professor Taboo

Home sick today, allowing for needed reflection and solace.

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An organ of fire.

I write today not with regret or disgust, but with familiar anguish. This heavy feeling reminds me of a day in the pediatrician’s patient-room with my beloved son when he was 6-8 months old. He was to receive four immunization shots and I would have to be the one to hold him down. It was too much for his mother to bear so it fell on me…as if I had the colder stronger heart. I hated every moment, every four moments! I remember how sickened my stomach felt as we left – I wanted to hunch over.

That is how I have felt these last three days; more so at night trying to fall asleep.

When you have been taught and raised, and have learned how to do everything exceptionally well, you inevitably set yourself up for risks. If you seek quality, we naturally seek protection of that quality. If you seek perfection, then we are inherently seeking imperfection. And with rare quality, with protection, and so with perfection comes its painful costs.

Like that day at the doctor’s with my son, I must take a very mournful course.

They Flee From Me

By Sir Thomas Wyatt

They flee from me that sometime did me seek

With naked foot, stalking in my chamber.

I have seen them gentle, tame, and meek,

That now are wild and do not remember

That sometime they put themself in danger

To take bread at my hand; and now they range,

Busily seeking with a continual change.

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Thanked be fortune it hath been otherwise

Twenty times better; but times in special,

In thin array after a pleasant guise,

When her loose gown from her shoulders did fall,

And she me caught in her arms long and small;

Therewithall sweetly did me kiss

And softly said, “Dear heart, how like you this?”

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It was no dream: I lay broad waking.

But all is turned thorough my gentleness

Into a strange fashion of forsaking;

And I have leave to go of her goodness,

And she also, to use newfangleness.

But since that I so kindly am served

I would fain know what she hath deserved.

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* * * * * * * * * *

An intuitive friend of mine told me weeks ago of new beginnings with relief for me and a “sense that there is one major decision to make, and once you do actually make that decision, so very much else will follow.” How spot-on she was. Will I enjoy it? No, not at all…but I will embrace it.

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Here Be Dragons

Posted on March 9, 2013 by Professor Taboo

Remember the old patina-ridden maps of the world from the Age of Exploration where the outer-limits of the seas had sailor-eating dragons? As a boy I was fascinated with their ferociousness and perplexed by their purpose. What did those evil serpents really look like if they devoured all hands on deck? Where are the few survivors? I demand to interview them if they haven’t already gone mad in some insane asylum! Imagine the fear they must have endured. My imagination forced me to squeeze my thighs together so I wouldn’t piss my pants picturing their last minutes of life! What unbelievable courage those explorers must have had…or stupidity.

First Crosstaff

Many decades later, journeys accumulated, and through my graduated intelligence I deduced that those poor victims of dragon-breath were now simply bones and dust – or fossilized dragon feces. A couple of light-bulbs above the head and years later, those maps gained new meaning.

I have traveled to and experienced many cultures on four different continents. I have been to places where the meaning of life resembles nothing like what surrounded me growing up. The many nuances of their daily lives are as familiar to me today as they were then and I thank the gods of seafaring and wing-tips I am alive and changed. But I have missed something. Something was not on the map.

I am a detailer. No not an auto-detailer and no, I have no homicidal tendencies toward tailors. I have been a detailing observer and explorer, and I have always been a cerebral observer and explorer; sometimes anal about the details. Get your mind out of the gutter for a moment; that is another blog for another time. Or better yet, go rent yourself a porn video if you can’t keep-up with me here. Refocus!

I think the title I am searching for is neo-cartographer. I have explored many places on this planet. My Captain’s Log would record not only the longitude latitude bearings, but also something significant to read about the people and their magnificent homes. Still…something was missing. I am a stickler for detail. Were my maps incomplete? Were they out dated? What?

I get a hint.

It was right under my nose. No, that is completely wrong! A great cartographer would slap me across my short-sighted face for saying that! Remarkably, my incomplete map with unimaginable treasures and deadly creatures had never really been so unreachable. Mad at myself I asked, How could you be so blind?

A New Crosstaff

My beautifully created maps were missing dragons. Everywhere I had gone and everywhere I had detailed were missing the man-eating dragons! It seemed the further I would travel, fewer dragons existed. But I have yet to reach three more continents. What if I went to the continent of Asia? Would I find the dragons there? Yes, but I’ve been told they are woven into their fine silk. What if I went to Australia? Would I find them there? As it turns out, I’ve been told they have kangaroos and koala bears. Antarctica? Nope: penguins.

This enlightenment begs the question: Where are the homicide-crazed dragons?

Ah hah! Another hint.

I have a distinct class of maps stored in a cabinet labeled “Domestic”. Excited I rummage through these stacks of maps; between 50 and 60 small, two large, and two of them as big as a 12-place dinner table. On these maps are the faces and memories of all the women I have intimately shared myself and loved. I rediscover some most profound joy and passion, and some hurt and disappointment.

The small maps dominate the shelves. No matter how well I tried to rig the outgoing vessel, no “crew” or co-captain would sign on. The maps are black and white, and very much incomplete. The two large maps have more detail, more emotions, and an array of colors, both with two distinct gold-bands tossed overboard in stormy seas. One map has a newborn boy I thought to become my first-mate, but as the tale goes he belonged to another fleet of sorts. The other vivid map has even more detail, more colors, deeper emotions, and more stormy seas. Yet this particular map, unlike the previous, has more navigational points necessary to make future explorations less hazardous. Mmm, frame this one. My two beautiful children are on it.

But as I examined the two massive maps, I realized I was not going to find any flesh-eating dragons I had been so anxiously seeking. I am hunting in the wrong place. I rolled the maps back up. My search for the beasts was over. Gone were my adolescent fears. Peacefully and with gratitude I returned every single map into my Domestic armoire. Close doors, leave key, do not lock.

A Newer Crosstaff with Dragon-illuminator

I have charted many rough, calm, beautiful, gloomy seas, and met a wide scope of explorers and settlers. Since 1989 I have been in the alternative lifestyles and with them come all types of explorers from all walks of life and orientations. Before ‘89, I was ten years in the vanilla or monogamous lifestyle with a later short, disastrous 4-year return to vanilla-monogamy in marriage then divorce with kids. I was raised and taught my first 26 years under the venerable roof of monogamy by my biological parents. Dignity, honor, and loyalty were three mainstays in my home. However, for the last 13 years I have not lived an ordinary life; everything but. Why?

One perspective from only the shore

Ralph Waldo Emerson once said “Don’t be too timid and squeamish about your actions. All life is an experiment. The more experiments you make the better.” Emerson and I would have been shipmates. Emerson had no fear of dragons because they exist in only one place: in our minds. They are creatures who feast on human will-power. They survive and flourish only when we accept their flames of “It cannot be done…it is not so.”

This is never more present than in our intimate romantic relationships. Fear of self-examination and fear of discovering our flaws, as well as our brilliance, disempower our ability to love more, love deeper, and more importantly to love several soul mates throughout life. Those disempowering dragons exist there, not on maps or out in the world.

When there is no proactive communication between lovers, here be the dragons. When there is attraction to another outside the union or relationship and there are no attempts to understand why, here be the dragons. When there is disproportionate extrospection to introspection, here be the dragons. When there is no articulation as to why monogamy may or may not work in a relationship, here be the dragons. When there is no desire to understand something unconventional, here be the dragons. When there is no patient, forgiving, and non-judgmental discussion about “uncharted seas” and embracing human imperfection as well as brilliance, here be the dragons!

The irony of my personal tale is this: in my quest to discover all things living around me and beyond, feeding my near insatiable curiosity, once on-guard to those damn elusive dragons…I have produced a worldly Captain, a rather large cartographical library, and an exceptionally fine-tuned HDD – Human Dragon-Detector – that can wale the warning…

“Here Be the Dragons!”

There have been two or three horrific dragons that I have fought in my lifetime. Some of them I created, others sent to me. The most painful dragon was also the one that had an evil twin with my name on it. For whatever reason the dragon-of-infidelity menaced me for twenty-two exhausting years, begun by my father’s suicide; another “map” I will share in a later post.

Is there anyone out there, male or female, that knows of what dragons I speak? How far have you traveled inward as well as outward? Where did you find the dragons? Are they vanquished?

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