Tag Archives: death

There’s something refreshing about this

Hi readers. Thanks for coming by for a read.  I don’t know anything much about Joan Rivers.  I wasn’t even aware she was still alive to die.  I recall seeing her on television maybe 30-40 years  ago.  But the orgies of synthetic grief and posturing admiration every time some celebrity croaks have never seemed to me to be a healthy thing.  In this brave new century maybe this other alternative is the healthy one.

At least it’s different.  Old Jules

Still Dead So Far

Did the God of Abraham Kill Joan Rivers?

If Only We Could Be Sure… By Gordon Duff, Senior Editor

Infowars, Alex Jones and the fiendish monstrosities of the “entertainment industry” mourn the death of that evil bitch, Joan Rivers. Before slipping into a coma, a life lived far too long, she advocated the slaughter of Palestinian children, claimed the first lady of the United States was a transsexual and accused President Obama of being as gay as his predecessor.

Rivers was a monster, our biggest concern at this time is to make sure she is still dead.

Her talent, for those who have seen her stage performance in Las Vegas is smut and fart jokes. At her best, she was boorish, tasteless and vile.

She got worse. She became a hate ridden monster, a freakish Zionist advocate of mass murder, a purveyor of continual lies, smears, filth and depravity. Everything wrong about Hollywood or being Jewish is what Rivers represents.

I am ashamed she was an American. I am ashamed of those who failed to stand against her and the powerful lobby that supported her.

So many decent people die all the time. So many of them were Jewish including Robin Williams, subject to continual smears. He was worth a thousand “Joan Rivers.” Robin Williams was a flawed human being, an American, an addict, hilarious, a man who cared about people, a Jew sometimes, a human being all the time.

Alex Jones says President Obama had Rivers assassinated. If only it were true.

What Robin Williams wasn’t is whatever Joan Rivers was, who will be mourned, cried over and lied about. Burn in hell Joan.

http://www.veteranstoday.com/2014/09/04/why-the-us-and-israel-are-not-getting-along-an-understatement/

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Post-Pyramidial and Post-Mass-Grave grave concerns

21st Century cemeteries mostly require stones to be flat with the ground and uniform in size to allow only a name and birth/death dates.  However, this sign outside Andrews, Texas offers a potential solution for communities everywhere.  A single stone the size of the Vietnam Memorial Wall telling everything the people in the cemetery believed would be a huge benefit.

21st Century cemeteries mostly require stones to be flat with the ground and uniform in size to allow only a name and birth/death dates. However, this sign outside Andrews, Texas offers a potential solution for communities everywhere. A single stone the size of the Vietnam Memorial Wall telling everything the people in the cemetery believed would be a huge benefit.

Hi readers:

The grave markers depicted here are located in the Olathe, Kansas, Desoto, Kansas and Lawrence, Kansas [Oak Hill] cemeteries.  Lawrence is probably best remembered for the Quantrill raid and massacre of the men and boys of the town slaughtered by Quantrill’s Irregulars during the Civil War.  The town was burned to the ground and most of those killed are buried in the Oak Hill Cemetery in a mass grave.

Hand signs and finger signs decorate the surface of a lot of gravestones around here.  Pointing upward, sideways, down fingers, etc.  I'm guessing some might be secret society signs of one sort or another.  However, Jeanne tells me this one is a 'deaf person' sign.

Hand signs and finger signs decorate the surface of a lot of gravestones around here. Pointing upward, sideways, down fingers, etc. I’m guessing some might be secret society signs of one sort or another. However, Jeanne tells me this one is a ‘deaf person’ sign.

cable grave

This stone and the one below have been selected by geographers to serve a dual-purpose. Initially they both merely marked the location of buried telephone cables, as noted on the orange tape. But later circumstance conspired to make them useful as markers for human burial locations as well.

Phone cable memorial marker

Limestone or marble markers are probably inexpensive, but they are prone to become unreadable in a century, century-and-a-half. The stone dissolves in acid rain, accumulates lichens and moss, and break more easily than granite, steel, or wood of most types. This is unworthy of concern unless the people placing the stone intend the grave to be identifiable over a period longer than a few decades.

bookout

A person who went through life being called by the name, King David Bookout, probably won’t object to large granite stone sitting above him a few centuries afterward. Nothing any stranger says while looking at the stone generations later is likely to be original. It all got said while he was alive.

sitar or oud teachout

Patricia Ann evidently played the oud or sitar during her life and someone considered it enough a part of her to be noted on the stone. The name Teachout would be less intriguing if the grave were located further from that of King David Bookout. A Bookout buried 50-100 feet from a Teachout seems more coincidence than needed in death.

Finding a purpose in death isn't necessarily easier than finding a worthy one in life.  Vernon Robert Phillips elected to use his to advertise Harley Davidson Motorcycles.

Finding a purpose in death isn’t necessarily easier than finding a worthy one in life. Vernon Robert Phillips elected to use his to advertise Harley Davidson Motorcycles.

This touching marker manages to convey the anguish of the surviving family.  Probably it's actually what graveyards and gravestones are all about, or at least something valid they are about.

This touching marker manages to convey the anguish of the surviving family. Probably it’s actually what graveyards and gravestones are all about, or at least something valid they are about.

Here's an example of what happens to limestone when it's utilized as burial marking material.  Fortunately there's nothing on the stone to suggest anything was worth remembering about Wheeler Green anyway.

Here’s an example of what happens to limestone when it’s utilized as burial marking material. Fortunately there’s nothing on the stone to suggest anything was worth remembering about Wheeler Green anyway.

Another emotional demonstration of whatever causes human beings to want grave markers and graves as a piece of their lives.

Another emotional demonstration of whatever causes human beings to want grave markers and graves as a piece of their lives.

Sharon Snow Fogarty is evidently still alive, but she knows how she wants to be remembered: "She never met an animal she didn't like."

Sharon Snow Fogarty is evidently still alive, but she knows how she wants to be remembered: “She never met an animal she didn’t like.”

The elaborate grave-marker phenomenon spans cultural boundaries.

The elaborate grave-marker phenomenon spans cultural boundaries.

If those people killed in the Quantrill raid had survived they might have accomplished great things.  Some might have been able to be part of the Wounded Knee incident.  As the song says, “Only the good die young.”

Old Jules

Predicting the Future

This post is from a previous blog a few years ago:

With this blog entry I’d like to provide you with my own lead-pipe-cinch view of what you can expect from the future.

Think about the other side of things a while, if you worry about a meteor hitting the earth, terrorists crawling out of the ocean with butcher-knives clamped in their teeth or other doomsday scenarios. My predictions are going to happen. All those others are just unlikely maybe/ maybe nots.  Our track record doesn’t suggest we can be as good at predicting events as we are at, say, engineering. We’ve all been trying for a long time and our failures have been consistent.

My own predictions:

1) If you live long enough you will grow old.

2) You will die.

3) The people you care about and others around you will either die the usual way, scattered out along a timeline, or their deaths will be compressed into a shorter time span through wars, plagues and other disasters.

4) Death’s such an individual and inevitable experience it won’t matter much whether the entire planet goes with you, or you just lie down alone somewhere and do it. Cancer, a terrorist attack, plague, a giant meteor, getting whacked by a drunk driver, or just dying of old age all work out the same in the end.

The method and moment we exit the vehicle probably doesn’t have much to do with life’s purposes. I might even conjecture that frantic preoccupation with the number of times we ride this mudball around the sun distracts us from what’s important.

Life is the only route we’ve discovered to allow us to arrive at death on time.

The Bard said it best: “Cowards die a thousand times before their deaths. The valiant never taste of death but once.”

Don’t spend too much time gazing into the abyss. I said that.

Old Jules

Today on Ask Old Jules: Watching the Dumb to Become Smart?

 

A Ritual of Resolutions and Risk-taking


Morning, readers.  I’m obliged you came by for a visit.

Today marks an event I never expected to see.  Old Sol’s about to light things up, shake his head and shrug when he looks down and sees I am here again, come spang around him one more time.  Sixty-nine times I’ve gone around him and come to this same spot, tipped my hat and said hi.

Here’s the reason neither Old Sol, nor I, had any reason to expect this:

Back in the late 1970s I had occasion to spend some time looking around nursing homes.  I managed to do it enough times and look them over closely enough to convince myself that we Americans haven’t kept our eye on the ball when it comes to living and being alive.

The people in those nursing homes are alive, but they aren’t overjoyed about it, and the life they’re living only has in common with actual life that the bodies and food are warm.  The caretakers roll them back and forth or they hobble between television sets, meals, games, then through the long hallways filled with the forever odor of urine, back to their rooms.

I did a lot of thinking about why that happens, those mass coffins for the living.  Of one thing I was certain.  I didn’t want it to happen to me.

The reason, I decided, people end up in those places is because they live longer than they’d have expected to, wanted to.  The reason they lived so long was that they took all kinds of measures to make certain they did, increasing the intensity and focus as the years built up on them.

Every year those elderly reduced the numbers and kinds of risks they took.  They watched their diets, quit doing things they enjoyed when they were younger, many barely did anything at all as they reached into the advanced years of retirement besides a golf game or sea cruise.

And they got what they paid for.  Lives that endured long past anything a person would call living.  They sidestepped and hid and and ran from Death, and he didn’t find them when he was supposed to.  So now they sit around strapped into wheel chairs watching rolling television screens paying the price for being too worried about dying when they were still alive.

That’s when I came to an important conclusion about how I wanted to live my own life.

From that time until now one of the rituals I’ve tried to perform around birthday time and New Years Day involves examination of the physical risks I’m taking now, and how I’m going to increase them during the coming year.  And how I’m going to stay as far as possible away from do-gooder, busybody medicos and CPR-knowers sticking their noses in my living experience getting me cross-wise with Death.

How I’m going to be out there when Death comes looking for me, in a place where he can find me, doing something I love to do.

Old Jules

Loudon Wainwright– High Wide and Handsome

The Challenge of Quietude


Things could seem fairly grim to almost anyone trying to stumble through this new century.  Somebody always walking into a schoolhouse with a gun, someone always bombing someone else, shooting someone else.

  • A cop probably feels things are middling dangerous for cops, feels things have gotten out of hand, feels threatened.
  • Store employees fearing their bosses, merchants fearing their employees, all of them fearing the dangerous potential of every customer.
  • Politicians fearing the opposing party, fearing the voters, fearing the prez.
  • Gang bangers fearing opposing gang bangers, fearing the cops, fearing their brother gang members knowing they’ll sell them out for a plea-bargain in a minute if faced with a long-term sentence.
  • Druggies fearing the dealers, fearing the cops, fearing the high cost of a habit, fearing other druggies, fearing their families, fearing do-gooder mammas and sisters and angry wives who might give them to the cops ‘for their own good’ after a long series of attempts to kick that didn’t work.
  • Christians fearing Muslims, Muslims fearing Christians, everyone fearing what the price sign above the gas pump’s going to show the day after the November election.
  • Single women fearing they’ll grow old without a man, married people fearing they’ll lose their partners to disease, to war, to accidents, to infidelity, to abuse.
  • Everyone fearing for the kids, for their safety, their increasingly brainless approaches to reality, for their futures.
  • Everyone watching the television screen, everyone shaking his head with the latest thing happened somewhere.

We’re in one of those niches in human history during which mass hysteria prevails.  An erosion of faith, a lapse of memory as a result of the bombardment of news submerging the mass-consciousness into the goldfish bowl of NOW.

The reality is that things aren’t worse now than they’ve ever been. 

Death still comes one-to-the-customer.

Kids, cops, gang bangers, birds, whales, baby seals, druggies, Christians, Muslims, every living creature is going to cross the finish line, same as they always have.

People aren’t killing one another more frequently than they’ve ever done.  They’re doing it about the same amount as they always have.  Killing and stomping one another, enslaving one another, robbing one another, invading one another.

Life’s a tough gig if we forget we’re going to die.  It always has been.

The challenge to man has always been putting himself above all that.  The courage to accept he/she will die, the kids will die, their kids will die.

The challenge is in the courage of acceptance, of distancing the self from the daily events creating the illusion death is somehow foreign, unnatural.  Tragic.

The challenge lies in living in the knowledge we’re going to die while behaving as though we aren’t.  In the courage to transcend the inevitability and allow ourselves to understand those other folks, the kid-killers, the gang bangers, the druggies, the cops, the government goons, the Christians and Muslims, the sheeple, all of them are just the same as us.  All stumbling around trying to get through this life.

The challenge lies in forgiving them for forgetting, forgiving ourselves for forgetting, we’re going to die and submerging ourselves in fear and brother hate.

The challenge lies in transcending the forgiveness enough to be grateful for the moments, every one of them, between the crying and the dying.  Grateful for the pain, the hardship, the loss, and the spiritual growth potential.

The challenge of acceptance that it ain’t all flowers and honey, never  has been, never was supposed to be.  That this life isn’t about what happens across the ocean, in Washington, in the crack-house down the block, or in the next bedroom where the kids are sleeping.

This life is about this side of the ocean, this city, this block, this house, this bedroom, right there where you are sleeping.

The impression you are making in that mattress, that pillow is where the minutes are ticking away, that’s where opportunities to become something better are located somewhere in a flash of life and time that’s ticking, ticking, ticking, trickling sand into the bottom of the glass.

The courage to repudiate the mind-games of others.

Others shouting to you that where someone else dies matters.  Others demanding you pretend you won’t have to die, if you hire more cops, hand more of your personal decision-making over to the government, watch more television, put more people in prison, send the army off to stomp bad guys somewhere.

Ignoring the cowards whispering if you avoid different ingredients in your food, buy the latest health miracle and don’t breathe second-hand smoke you won’t have to die.

That’s the challenge.  Same as it’s always been.

Old Jules


 

Four Sacred Mountains- R. Carlos Nakai (Song for the Morning Star)