Black Lives Matter is about killer cops.

Killer cops. It’s about killer cops. Imagine your SO going out on a normal, everyday day and getting killed by your own security  team because one of the staff is incompetent, mentally ill or racist. That is what #blacklivesmatter means.

If you’re hung up on the “black” part of it, please do more research because you don’t understand the problem yet.

Killer cops are murdering the people they are sworn to protect in cold blood.  Not all, not even most, but even 1% is way too much.  The deaths of their victims were hard – not instant, like the movies, but painful, incredibly bloody and all of them cruel.  Some were beaten first, or bound, intimidated, scared, yelled at.  They all gasped their last ragged, terrified breath honestly not expecting the sickening epiphany that today is their last day.  You can’t imagine it being a beautiful young woman dying this way, could you?  It’s not, but that doesn’t #matter.

If you’re hung up on the “black” part of it, please do more research because you don’t understand the problem yet.

You get a phone call.  An unexpected number with a disturbingly sympathetic voice on the other end, calling you to the hospital.  Or worse, a frantic family member wailing on the line something unthinkable.  Or worse still, an impossible Facebook post showing one of your favorite people bleeding out on your phone before your eyes as strangers with cameras pull up to your door to ask rude questions.

If you’re hung up on the “black” part of it, please do more research because you don’t understand the problem yet.

When Paul Walker suddenly died, the country mourned.  Imagine if he had been shot in his car by a cop?  Not once, but four times?  …for reaching for his wallet?  What if the idiot policeman just gets let go?  The case is closed, and everyone goes home.  No one is punished.  The police don’t arrest the police.  And that sting in your heart as you watch your loved one’s casket sink into its final space?  It doesn’t #matter.

If you’re still hung up on the “black” part of it, please do more research because you don’t understand the problem yet.


One Large Step: A One-Way Trip to Mars

So there’s a mission to Mars planned by Virgin Galactic and it’s one-way. The people undetertaking this voyage have to agree that they will never again return from this historic colonization trip to Mars.

That’s a big pill to swallow. The mindset required to agree to such a condition is akin to a healthy person agreeing to accept permanent and irrevocable exile through the harshest environment known to mankind, where they will spend the rest of their lives in a IKEA-style dormitory at a port of call where nothing – not even gravity is what you were born to handle. All in the name of science. Wow.

Of course, everyone who agrees to such an undertaking would rightful earn the right to name whatever s/he discovers. Everything discovered would be cool, but none would care, other than your fellows.

A land where every conceivable currency and treasure discovered is utterly worthless until long after your bones have dried in the Martian sunlight and are happened upon by the next courageous astronauts.

I argue that the volunteers on this journey are true pioneers, true astronauts, and someone needs to design a patch in their honor.

The possibilities are endless! I imagine my first objective would be to plan for my death, my legacy and work backward, blogging the whole adventure of the First Immigrants.

You get to Mars, you set up the habitat – a glorified biodome – and get about the business of surviving. You survive the initial acclimation, lose a few folks to (whatever) and eventually… you get bored. Sitting there in the Martian sunlight filtering through the glass of the dome at the same skyline, someone’s going to take a breath and the adrenaline will billow out in a great sigh. Then what?

Kids? Farming?

What would that be like – farming on Mars? Bringing new life forms from Earth to Mars. How bold we humans are to assume such a right! It’s bold, dangerous, risky to all involved – and truly ballzy badass!

Terran seeds (trees, fruit, crops) will be grown in Martian soil. Evolution on Mars will have a Day One. The notion is intoxicatingly romantic.

Kids. If I were planning this mission, I would plan for true colonization and find willing *couples* to go. I would also take ample supplies of sperm donations from Olympians as well and tell all the women that their primary job once everything settles down is to get busy with the baby-making.

Millennia later, their story will be both as paradoxically meaningless and as priceless as it would be if we suddenly discovered irrefutable evidence that we humans had come from some other world – ┬áthat Adam and Eve were not the *first* humans, but merely the first humans of this planet.

For us, this sentiment is just a nice thought that may only change your next dizzy gaze into the stars, but for the brave souls practicing to board this one-way trip it drips not just with history, but with real galactic ambassadorship.

The TED, the HUD and the Next Greats

An article (see below) complains about Google pitching Google Glass at the TED. Honestly, I have no problem with the pitch as it falls inline with my “if nobody complains then do it” philosophy. That said, I *do* have a different problem with Google Glass…

My Issue with Google Glass
The article within highlights the TED talk which decrys the new smartphone culture – that is, people “hunched over a featureless screen”, seemingly implying that having an augmented reality lens over one eye is somehow better for mankind.

My imagination quickly holds up its finger and says “but waiit! anybody remember this?” (*cue the video of “Terminator-view” where the cyborg looks around and red/white outlines analyze everything from temperature to location to gun and ammo types. I mean really… do we need a HUD? I kinda *want* a HUD, but then am I not one step away from the Borg Collective – just sans the ugly droid-looking implants?

As a, ahem, “Lensed-American” (aka one of the many four-eyed, near-sighted folk), I often wonder how far away it’ll be before my necessary specks will include some transparent HUD help, but my Dad’s voice screams about how once upon a time people were just smart, not just able to reference information on demand, but actually knowledgable.

It begs the question “now that you know everything, now what?” My dad would nod in agreement, like a Marine or a cop or a fire fighter would say to a soft, suburban know-it-all…

Wisdom will become a premium. The true greats – they use data as a tool. The new greats will determine the next great leaps in human evolution, exploration and medical breakthroughs by using such data in awesome ways. I’m already working to be one of them. Just gotta find my niche, my muse…

Link to article:

The Unfortunate Election Cycle of 2012

The third (and final) Presidential debate revealed yet another version of Mitt Romney – one who agreed with nearly every policy decision made by President Obama over the last four years. In fact, the pundits had fun stringing together clip after clip of Romney repeatedly saying how he agreed with Obama’s course of action.

Personally, I think the Mitt Romney we saw on Monday was (finally) the real Mitt Romney – a man that, aside from party affiliation, has very few ways to differentiate himself or his true positions from the sitting president.

Up until now, Mitt Romney has been little more than the living avatar of the Republican agenda, billed and packaged as the anti-Obama – in the hopes that the country will deliver them a Republican president that will erase all memory of “Dubbya”.

Racists hate President Obama – perhaps with good reason. Consider the presidency through the racist’s lens. Obama killed Osama bin Laden, saved the auto industry, brought the NYSE back from under 7000 to over 12,000 and simultaneously crushed terrorists around the world while removing our troops from Harm’s Way. He was awarded the Nobel Peace Prize on day one, essentially just for showing up for work – and since then, he’s surgically and strategically delivered peace all over the world. If Obama was Republican, he’d be celebrated as one of the greatest American presidents to ever walk the face of the Earth.

Unfortunately for racists, President Obama is the first black president in American history – and he ROCKS. But he’s black. …and the idea of a skinny, smooth-talking, basketball-playing, celebrity rock star with big ears, a bigger smile and an even bigger education being responsible for reversing all the damage Yosemite Sam did since the Clinton years is absolutely unpalatable to the multitude of smiling normal Americans who secretly and not so secretly see people of color as “them”.

Unfortunately for ALL of us, the GOP has huge racist numbers. As such, they have done everything in their power to neutralize and neuter Obama’s agenda. The Tea Party is an ugly and brazen symbol of an ignorant, intolerant and separatist slice of America screaming against an inevitable future where the people of color are *gasp!* the majority.

Sad as that is, Romney has, since “winning” his party’s nomination, willingly conceded to serve every eager impulse of the anti-Obama regime, regardless of the fact that the single-minded goal to “remove Obama” makes little conventional sense when, deep down, your alternative agrees with nearly everything he stands for.

The rest of this ridiculous campaign will be bittersweet to watch. I expect Obama will win, as he should. I also expect the GOP to pull every major stunt in the book and go down spitting venom until the last vote is counted instead of lifting this country up as they should.

Romney 2016

If Romney all of a sudden agrees with President Obama on so many issues, why not postpone his bid and run again in 2016? I personally would welcome an extension of many of the President’s foreign and domestic policies. #Formoreyears

New Rule: Badges & Pooping

Pooping @ work is typically an anonymous activity. There’s a strict, yet unwritten code of conduct that forbids communication of any kind whilst in the loo. The whole mystique is shattered when a person’s badge is boldly announcing your shitmate’s name from a smiling picture next to their crumpled pants. To that, I submit a New Rule: Put your badge in your pocket when nature calls you to the Office Throne, gents. Otherwise I’ll be forced to associate you with your stank and fartsmell. All in favor?

Audio Post