About Affirmations

Jack wrote this on a thread on the lottery players’ site in June, 2005:

Anytime I begin talking much about affirmations I’m in danger of becoming a bit preachy, so I don’t talk about them a lot.  For me, my most valuable affirmations are ones of gratitude, which I try to do as many times every day as I can remember during an idle moment.  I’m a complete believer that those have changed my life, reversed some fundamental, negative patterns of thinking… made my life a better place.  I’ve explained somewhere on the threads, or on my blog, how I use those.
But when I only have a moment I use the simplest one I’ve ever come up with:

I’m grateful for everything that’s ever happened to me;

I’m grateful for everything that’s happening to me now;

I’m grateful for everything that’s going to happen to me in the future.

If I find there’s any place I haven’t managed to make this true, I examine whatever the experience is and find ways I can be grateful for it.

I began doing forgiveness affirmations about a decade ago, forgiving everyone I could think of whom I believed had done me wrong in any way, wishing them the best, meaning it, starting with the ‘worst offenders’, eventually getting down to the guy who just shot me a finger in traffic.  Difficult job of work, but worth it.

For winning affirmations, I believe everything that happens to me in life is a win.  I do a sort of mantra on some events I’d like to see come into my life, such as understanding these communist lottery numbers, but it’s too simple and redundant to give a lot of words to, explaining.

In short, I see myself as the luckiest, most fortunate man who’s ever trod this planet.  Affirmations helped me to recognize it and know it’s true, why it’s true, and cause me to believe at a foundation level that there’s no person on earth who shouldn’t want to be me, whereas, I would absolutely refuse to be anyone else.

I was going to edit this in, but I was out on the porch sniffing the little treasure of a thunderstorm we plucked from the universe, but thinking about affirmations.  (I cautioned you I can go on and on about them).  Rather than beleaguer anyone with more of my own ramblings about affirmations, I thought I’d tell you about Richard Bach’s (Jonathan Livingston Seagull, et al) experiences with them, and the guy who did that comic strip about a guy with a talking dog and cat living with him.

Bach was a Silva Mind Control aficionado….. used affirmations to write just about every book he ever wrote…. went from being a barnstormer vet pilot to a best seller writer many times over… much of which he attributes to affirmations and other Silva methods.

The other guy, comic artist, was a nothing sort of fellow, going nowhere.  But he went into Silva and began practicing affirmations…. wrote down 50 times a day that he was going to produce a comic strip, the most popular comic strip in the business.

Which he did, along with a lot of other stuff I won’t belabor you with.

You don’t need Silva for affirmations.  I think it’s a great thing, but I’m not pushing it for anyone.  But I’ll shout about affirmations from the rooftops so long as I have a breath in me and there’s anyone out there who will pretend to listen.

Jack

 

Ask Old Jules: Signs, Natural behavior, Being human, Why humans are destructive, What is Life?

Harper, TX 2010 079

Old Jules, have you seen a “sign” lately?

That lunar eclipse the other night seemed to me a pretty good ‘sign’ we’d gotten our need for lunar eclipses out of the way for a while. I pulled my glasses back on my head to watch through binoculars and they fell spang off onto the dark ground. I carefully stepped back to keep from stepping on them and squashed them underfoot. Bad sign. I figure it means I’m going to have to buy new glasses, even though these are superglued back enough to keep on my face.

Old Jules, how do we determine what is natural and what is not? Example: How is homosexuality less natural than heterosexuality?

Everything in the potential body of human experience is natural. No escaping it. Homosexuality is only less natural than heterosexuality when homosexuality gets outside the boundaries of potential human experience.

Old Jules, what is it like for you to be human?

It’s a bargain, being human, and I love it as much as everyone else.

Old Jules, why is the human race so destructive?

Best answer: Just one of the ways humanity manages to extend its own lifetime most likely. The species is unable to take direct measures to control its own numbers so it finds other ways to do it in more cunning ways. Humanity has to somehow survive if it’s going to last long enough to evolve. It can’t survive if it’s stacked like cordwood half a mile high alive but unable to kick.

Old Jules, what is life?? Serious question…?

Don’t take this seriously, but it’s an attempt at a serious answer more-or-less as an analogy, and strictly my own with no attempt to assert it’s true, except I believe there’s evidence to support it: Life is something that exists at the boundary line between the past and future on the time landscape, which is a landscape as opposed to something linear. My thought is that it’s a mechanism the side of the boundary we think of as ‘future’ dangles downstream across into ‘past’ to mine it for some resource more abundant on the past side than on the future side. DNA is floated downstream much the way a fisherman with his boat anchored midstream dangles a baited hook and lets it drift. It’s not the answer you wanted, and nobody but me believes it’s likely, but there you are. That’s what life is.

Defending our borders – a different alternative

Jack wrote this in September, 2006:

I’ve been thinking about the 700 mile fence thing, wondering whether it’s a good idea, or a bad one.  I finally decided it’s a good one, but that it’s not being implemented in, perhaps, the best way.My own state, for instance, New Mexico, has thrice had to defend the borders by force of arms.

  • First, from invaders from the (then) Republic of Texas, 1841.
  • Next from the invading forces of General Kearney, US Army.  (Lost that one, which is the reason the former owners are now dubbed, ‘illegal aliens’).
  • Then, after New Mexico, Arizona and California had been persuaded at gunpoint to become territories of the United States, New Mexico had to repel another invasion by Texas Mounted Volunteers early during the Great War of Southern Independence.  New Mexico and Arizona briefly became territories of the Confederacy.  During that time, citizens of the United States were illegal aliens.

As you can imagine, this was cause for some confusion.

The Mescalero, the Chiracahua Apache, the Mimbres Apache,  and the Navajo, seeing it was devil-take-the-hindmost when it came to what belonged to whom, chose that moment to attempt to eject people of Hispanic and Anglo origins, no matter what uniform they wore.  They were sick and tired of illegal aliens.

But, of course, the Mescalero, the Chiracahua, the Navajo and the Texan were herded back into their respective, rightful places at gunpoint, while the Mimbres Apache was urged to seek peace mostly in the afterlife.

Now a new crisis has arisen.

The evil people who originally conquered Texas, New Mexico, Arizona and California and lost it fair and square to the heavier artillery and superior marksmanship of the US military keep trying to come back inside, where they’re only wanted under certain limited conditions.  Heavy lifting and dirty hands, mainly.

So, here’s a solution for defending our boundaries that doesn’t involve the boring, hackneyed force-of-arms remedy.

Let’s defend our boundaries by dissolving the United States and applying to Estados Unidos Mexicanos for membership!

By ceasing to be the unanimously despised United States, we’d no longer be targets.  Nobody’s ever considered attacking Mexico (except the United States, the Apache and the Navajo, and, of course, France, but France has since become the forerunner in the vanishing manhood scenario, so there’d be no future danger from them.)

Think of it!  No more fear of terroristsNo more fear of illegal aliensNo more national debtNo more 700 mile fences.  No more foreign wars, because Mexico’s never invaded anyone.  No more Democrats and Republicans.  No more sending all our manufacturing and production jobs off to Mexico.

I think it might just work, and it would shorten the fence that has to be built because of all the coastlines.  Maybe Canada would even join us, so’s the only fence that had to be built would be on the southern border with Guatemala.

Jack

Book Project Finished! post from Jeanne

I’m pleased to say that I’ve finished the project to put all these blog posts in paperback book form. As I’ve said before, these are available on Lulu.com, here’s a link or you can just search for Jack Purcell on the Lulu.com website.
https://tinyurl.com/4mdchhwm

My apologies for the poor quality of this one photo, but the lighting in my apartment is really bad. You can see the covers better on the link.

Also, I have to apologize for the book pricing. Lulu sets their production price based on number of pages, design, etc. and then it’s up to me to choose that price or increase it for further profit, so I kept it close to their minimum each time. The only good way to get a discount (unless you live in the KC area and want to have me order you one personally) is to get on their email list and wait for their discount prices to show up. At the moment there’s a 10% off promotion, and they frequently have 15% off.
The last book covers more years and is around 300 pages. It also includes pages of recipes that Jack made up while he was on the no/low-sodium diet as well as the tribute I wrote on this blog when he died.

There’s an additional book listed on his Lulu page at the moment that is unrelated to our projects, so I’m working with Lulu to remove that one book. It’s by someone else entirely.

As I’ve mentioned before, this blog will continue with older posts not previously posted on this site until around the end of December. I will also be including some letters and older writing from time to time. (Those aren’t in the published books). I have one audio recording coming up and might post more of those later this fall. At the end of the year I’ll re-post about ordering the books and then leave the blog in place in case I have future projects to tell you about. I have ideas, but due to some travel plans, I won’t be working on those this fall.

If anyone has any interest in using Lulu.com, feel free to contact me if you want to discuss how it works (elisekasten@hotmail.com). I’ve learned a huge amount going through this process, and while these books aren’t 100% perfect in every way, they are good enough for me to be proud of the results!

Thanks for being loyal readers,

Jeanne

Interesting night

Jack wrote this in September, 2006:

The past week or so the prowler thing’s creeped back in to things here.  He evidently came onto the porch several nights ago and left a few signs to show he’d been here.

There’s been a break in it for several months, so I suppose we all hoped it was over.  The last incident was just before Easter, when someone left a beheaded rabbit on the porch of the rich guy up the hill behind me.  Prior to that, the bucket of blood spilled across my porch, maybe around Christmas was the next-most early event.  All of which I described on this blog.

But after the porch incident a week ago I’d been on the alert, and several middle-of-the-night sorties, darting around the shadows with a flashlight and a government .45 trying to catch this person had me thinking he might decide to take another long break.

But, around 2:00 am the cats woke me, really nervous and agitated.  The security light was on outdoors,  and the dogs across the road were barking.  So I hoisted my poor old arse out of bed, flashlight in one hand and El Palenque in the other, spent another quarter-hour stalking the shadows without much hope of this sneaky fellow still being there.

But, about 4:30 the cats woke me again and I could see on the security camera that a car was stopped, lights on at the gate.  So I again hoisted myself out of dreamland and went out front to see what was going on.

“Officer Montoya, Sandoval County Sheriff Deputy.  Did you call?”

“I see who you are.  No.  I haven’t called.”

“What’s the address here?”

“24.”

“Where’s 25?”

I pointed to the long driveway leading up the hill to the house where the rich old guy who’d been blessed Easter by the porch-rabbit.  The deputies got back into their truck, spotlight shining around all over the place, and headed up the hill.  After a while I saw them leave, and a bit later the old guy came walking down to the road to pick up his newspaper.  I was sitting on the porch watching the dawn, so I called down to his grumpy old persona.

“Trouble?”

“Yeah.  Prowler again.”

We’re all middling concerned what this guy’s all about.  What he does makes no sense.  He leaves his little signs to show he’s been there, rarely steals anything a normal burgler would take, but takes small things of little value when he comes indoors.  Evidently he’s a lockpick, because Lee, next door, found a broken picklock he dropped at her back entryway.

But as a deputy told me during one of their frequent visits up here answering complaints, “This guy’s going to have to die.  He’s never going to stop until someone shoots him.”

He might be right.  The prowler’s smart, gutsy, and evidently really good at what he does.  But he’s bound to slip up.  One night I was out stalking around with the .45, and Lee’s husband caused me to jump out of my skin, “Jack….. psssst!”

“Huh?”  Squatting behind a bush, squinting at the latia fence around Lee’s yard, wondering if it was our man, El Palenque full c*cked waiting for whatever’s about to happen.

“It’s me.”  Stage whisper.  “I’ve got a 30.06.  Let me get him.”

Cheeeeeerist!  Yeah, that’s sure as hell what we need.

“Stay calm.  Don’t shoot him if he’s over my way, or between you and the village.  In fact, don’t shoot him at all with that damned thing!  No telling who you’ll kill off over there somewhere.”

One more bug on the windshield of life in the quiet village.

Jack

The John Birch Society revisited

Jack wrote this in September, 2006:

Evening blogsters:

Most of you are too young to remember the John Birchers.  That’s back when men were men and women were glad of it.

The John Birchers were the guys who made it necessary for William F. Buckley to invent Neo Conservativism to try to add some respectability to the concept that some things in the US Constitution were worth preserving, despite the run-away choo-choo of Rooseveltism busy throwing out the baby with the bath water.

Yep.  The John Birchers believed Communism was a Jewish Conspiracy to take over the world.  They believed there was a Communist behind every tree in America.  They believed black American males wanted nothing more fervently in life than to have a white woman, corrupting the holiest of holies.

Ain’t seen much of that around in a while, but it’s gotten a shiny new paintjob, changed the sparkplugs, and by golly, the same sentiments can be expressed with different targets in mind.

Things really just don’t change much at all among the folks who have that John Bircher place in their spirits.  If you can’t can’t get the Jews, at least you can get their other Old Testimentality cousins.

Jack

Dangerous and Radical Live and Let-Livism

Jack wrote this in September, 2006:

I think we need to start a new political party:
Dangerous and Radical Live-And-Let-Livism
Platform:
Every state disavows the current US Constitution and withdraws peacefully from the United States
Every state re-adopts the US Constitution with the following change in the
Preamble:
This time we mean it!
Move the US seat of government to Lincoln, Nebraska
Limit the term of office for all Federal office holders, including the presidents and Federal judges,  to a single term of two years.
Criminalize as treason violations of oaths to uphold the US Constitution and what it says.
Jack
Comment by justexploring-
The problem is that those who are elected to uphold it are usually the ones who are not.

Justx:
Thanks for the read and the comment. You’re definitely correct.
But it seems to me the reason’s up for grabs. Might be they elect them and keep on electing them because nothing’s offered as a third alternative. They’ve been trained to believe if it ain’t Demo, and it ain’t Republican, it ain’t in the running.

But third parties occasionally spring up and do fairly well. Teddy Roosevelt ran on the Bull Moose ticket once. George Wallace gave HumphreyDumphrey and Tricky Dixon a run for the money in, what? ’68?

Richard Head, Texas bullionaire, I think ought to have been his name, though it wasn’t, ran against two other somebody-or-others who should have been also named that also in the ’90s and caused a stir.

Men used to be accused of thinking with their cojones, with some justice in the accusation. Nowadays both men and women could be accused of thinking with their television sets, probably with equal justification.

But it mightn’t be as bad as appearances.

Jack

.

Teetering

Jack wrote this in September, 2006:

Evening blogsters:

Looks as though there’s a bull-goose storm between here and the Jemez Mountains, maybe moving this way.  Cats all came inside without protest before dark because of another, milder one just at dusk.

Finished the re-read of Confessions a few days ago, but as I’ve spent those days digesting the last half the book, seems clear I’m going to have to spend another read-worth before I can put it back on the shelf.  It’s sitting over by the bed grinning at me now, wondering how long I’ll hold out.

A month, I’m thinking.  But meanwhile, I keep picking up the Decameron, My Name is Aram, The Sibyl, and a Nero Wolfe novel, The Golden Spider, turn a few pages, put it down.  I think it’s some sort of rebound thing, what with my brain having submerged itself too long in the Rousseau mixmaster.

Anyway, my gut tells me I want to re-read the Decameron next, but my head refuses for the moment.

Just was over reading justxploring’s blog about breakfast cereals, human beans, and parties.  Made me ask myself when it was I quit eating breakfast cereal.  Hasn’t been too terribly long ago, but it’s one of those things just seemed to be there one day, gone the next.

Nowadays I just eat corn tortillas for breakfast.  Yeah, it’s rad lib.  Pinko stuff.

Sure sign I’m part of the underground railroad smuggling brown-skinned, non-English speaking conquistadores once-removed, previous owners of this land I live on, back into it, now that it’s become sacred.

Used to be nothing but Mexicans living here.  Now there’s good Amurcans.

Jack

Knowledge is power

Jack posted this in September, 2006. He posted song lyrics from time to time, just whatever was going through his head. If you don’t know this one, look it up!

Ahab, The Arab

Written and Recorded by: “Ray Stevens” 1974

Let me tell you ’bout Ahab The Arab
The Sheik of the burning sand
He had emeralds and rubies just dripping off ‘a him
And a ring on every finger of his hands

He wore a big ol’ turban wrapped around his head
And a scimitar by his side
And every evening about midnight
He’d jump on his camel named Clyde…and ride
Silently through the night to the sultan’s tent

where he would secretly meet up
with Fatima of the Seven Veils,

swingingest grade “A” number one U.S. choice
dancer in the Sultan’s whole harem,

’cause, heh, him and her had a thing going.
You know, and they’d been carrying on

for some time now behind the Sultan’s back
and you could hear him talk to his camel

as he rode out across the dunes, his
voice would cut through the still night desert air

and he’d say (melodic garble) which is arabic for, “stop, Clyde!”

and Clyde would say, (whinney whine garble).

Which is camel for, “What the heck did he say anyway?”

Well…. He brought that camel to a screeching halt
At the rear of Fatima’s tent

jumped off Clyde,
Snuck around the corner and into the tent he went

There he saw Fatima laying on a Zebra skin rug
Wearing rings on her fingers and bells on her toes
And a bone in her nose ho, ho.
There she was friends lying there in all her radiant beauty.

Eating on a raisin, grape, apricot, pomegranate,

bowl of chitterlings, two bananas, three Hershey bars,

sipping on a “R C” Co-Cola listening to her transistor,

watching the Grand Ole Opry on the tube

reading the Mad magazine while she sung,

“Does your chewing gum lose it’s flavor?”

and Ahab walked up to her and he said, (melodic garble)

which is arabic for, “Let’s twist again like we did last summer, baby.”

You know what I mean!

Whew! She looked up at him from off the rug,

give him one of the sly looks, she said,   “Caaaarazee baby”.

‘Round and around and around and around…etc.

And that’s the story ’bout Ahab the Arab
The Sheik of the Burnin’ sand
Ahab the Arab
The swinging Sheik of the burnin’ sand

Think about it

Jack wrote this in September, 2006:

It’s neither right, nor proper to take over Mike’s blog for today for a fight I could allow to become ugly.

So I’m going to say this here on my own blog as a continuation of my comments there:

Going to war with a religion is a tough gig and it needs careful thought on the part of anyone contemplating it.

  • Hitler didn’t even manage to kill all the Jews in his own country.  There were some left in the aftermath who felt an inclination to get damned ugly about what he did.
  • The Red Chinese have never even managed to wipe out entirely a tiny religion held by the Tibetans.
  • The Romans, the Spanish, the Russians, the Germans, the Holy Roman Empire have conducted the longest protracted war against a religion in the history of humanity, against Jews, and failed to wipe them out.
  • The US did everything it could think of to wipe out Mormons, but they escaped.  Look at them now.
  • If you think about it, consider the efforts made by the Romans to nip Christianity in the bud.  Consider the miserable, abysmal failure of their efforts.  Consider the mass murders the early Christians applied to all those Roman pagans they could catch during the revenge-stage of Christian power.  Read Eusebius.

If you believe you can conduct a war against Radical Islam you, or your children won’t one day regret, think again.

Jack