The Material girl has become an immaterial leftist at 60.

Madonna, at 60. At 60! Repeat that. In fact, gleefully yell it. Doing so bugs the shit out of this former virgin.

Embittered old lefty whore. Happens to the best of us!

Madonna spoke to the New York Times recently and the interview triggered a flood of Netflixian tropes to gush from her orifices like hungry parasitic worms in search of a new, younger host.

Madonna says she feels “raped” by a New York Times profile written about her, adding that the outlet “is one of the founding fathers of the Patriarchy.”

“Im sorry i spent 5 minutes with [the journalist],” the iconic pop star wrote on Instagram on Thursday. “It makes me feel raped. And yes I’m allowed to use that analogy having been raped at the age of 19. Further proof that the N.Y.T. Is one of the founding fathers of the Patriarchy. And I say — DEATH TO THE PATRIARCHY woven deep into the fabric of Society. I will never stop fighting to eradicate it.”

Madonna has embraced “victimism” better than most female children a quarter her age. Apparently, the logic goes that if you’re a victim, you can glibly toss around the [touchy term describing source of victimization] freely. Sorta like Black people and their egregious resurrection of “nigger” in all forms of pop culture slang and daily street communication.

Dude, Madonna. You sound like a rehashed Netflix script with all that smug, self-righteous, grandstanding baloney included.

“To say that I was disappointed in the article would be an understatement,” she wrote. “It seems. You cant fix society And its endless need to diminish, Disparage or degrade that which they know is good. Especially strong independent women. The journalist who wrote this article spent days and hours and months with me and was invited into a world which many people dont [sic] get to see, but chose to focus on trivial and superficial matters such as the ethnicity of my stand in or the fabric of my curtains and never ending comments about my age which would never have been mentioned had I been a MAN! Women have a really hard time being the champions of other women even if. they are posing as intellectual feminists.”

This harks back to an elemental truth of expression in the modern world: noticing cannot be tolerated. Noting, the physical manifestation of noticing, is assuredly not tolerated. At risk of eliciting the wrath of 60-year-old misfits, that is.

**archive**

Entangled but not dead.

A trained unprofessional non-expert clueless layman asks rhetorically. This. 

What if we parsed time so minutely, so astronomically fine-grained, with the help of advanced instrumentation and cosmic technologies, that our equipment’s measurement would render that which we measured cognitively incomprehensible? Such instruments would exist in our large-scale human reality, our realm of sensory experience, as that which we can control and witness through our limited earth-bound senses, but concomitantly, so sophisticated that it would peer into the most microscopic temporal slivers that exceed our comprehension. 

We would experience a technological dichotomy. Instruments which deliver an invisible reality in the language of our accessible and unsophisticated 3-dimensionally-evolved biological senses. The invisible physical reality captured by our instruments, incomprehensible in its raw form, made misleadingly tangible when rendered for our simple engagement. 

But the instruments can only deliver the information payload in everyday human physical language, an unrefined delivery system that is incapable of conveying the infinite obscurity unveiled within the magical quantum scale afforded by the instruments. 

If time were parsed beyond our comprehension, we would be unable to perceive such data because our sense of sight and temporal embrace lacks the resolution to delve as deeply as that tool we designed to view hidden realities. We’ve constructed tools that allow us to conjure a world beyond our comprehension. It is Godly. 

Time, deconstructed into parcels of itself that we cannot experience… When we beg the equipment to show us one such parcel, merely presents us the unambiguous rendition our senses can handle: there, or here. The infinite range and its spectrum’s ladder unseen by our eyes, but seen by the instrument.

Our interpretation does not capture the astronomical sophistication. 

What if our instrument’s measurements are cheapened by our limited 3-dimensional perception? The only solution would be to refine our senses to the same calibration as our machines: to experience Experience as gods.  Or machines.

We are defining abstract infinitude in the limited parlance of our 3D world.

*This post also appears on my entangled blog, “Garbage in…”

Has Mexico finally bought a clue…?

I certainly hope…

Look, it’s not rocket science. Mexico’s conduct at its own incoming border tells us what they expect all borders to look like. If it allows Central Americans to flow through so freely, we certainly don’t expect that Mexico’s Northern border signifies much, either.

Until Trump.

Maybe. Mexico appears to have amplified its response to the Central American migrant invasion at its Southern border.

Mexican soldiers, armed police and migration officials blocked hundreds of migrants after they crossed the border from Guatemala in a caravan into southern Mexico on Wednesday, and detained dozens of them, a witness from a migrant aid group and an official said.

The Mexican response in the border town of Metapa, which included dozens of soldiers, marked a toughening of the government’s efforts to curb the flow of mainly Central American migrants, said Salva Cruz, a coordinator with Fray Matias de Cordova.

“That many sailors and military police, yes, it’s new,” Cruz said, by WhatsApp, from Metapa, in the southern border state of Chiapas, where the vast majority of migrants from Central America cross into Mexico. Many are asylum seekers fleeing violence and poverty in Honduras, Guatemala and El Salvador.

The operation in Chiapas coincided with a meeting of Mexican and U.S. officials at the White House on Wednesday to thrash out a deal that would avoid blanket tariffs on Mexico threatened by U.S. President Donald Trump last week.

Trump announced the tariffs in retaliation for what he called Mexico’s failure to stop Central American migrants from reaching the U.S. border.

For Mexico, the choice is stark. The immigrants flooding the United States are largely from Central America; that’s your “plate” and both Mexico and the United States must do their part. Team effort, pues?

On Wednesday afternoon in Mexico City, police detained Irineo Mujica, director of the U.S.-Mexico migrant aid group Pueblo Sin Fronteras, and Cristobal Sanchez, a migrant rights activist, according to Alex Mensing, a coordinator with the group.

Pueblo Sin Fronteras has for several years guided annual caravans through Mexico, seeking to protect migrants and to advocate for their rights along a 2,000-mile trail ridden with criminals and corrupt officials who prey on lone travelers through kidnapping, extortion and other forms of assault.

Detained.

Now prosecute them; these groups are fomenting an invasion of our country, its leaders deserve nothing less than a military invader’s welcome. I’m sure the cartels can lend some “assistance.”

Let me in, I want freebies
Let me in, now! I want freebies!

**archive**

It’s easier not to fly

The “sad” truth is that for every Beatles or U2 or Rolling Stones, there millions (hyperbolic? who knows) bands that toil away in anonymous but gleeful self-expression into the din of the eardrum-numbed night. Perhaps “sad” is presumptuous. Many small bands never had acclaim in their eyes. Expression and musical creativity might be a more important motivator than filled arenas for many musical groupings. Just cause I’m an anonymous blogger toiling away in obscurity does not mean everyone wants to share the same fate.

But I suspect many don’t care.

Bowery Electric, a NYC-based Shoegaze-y, Droneful, chantiferous band that stuck around 7 years (1993-2000), seemed more like a project, an artistic indulgence, than anything.

I was turned onto the band about 15 years ago, and in the time since I’ve built a large collection of their music. A chill playlist of blurry and vividly hazy nocturnes, I enjoy most of their tracks, but one that stands out the most (for myself) is “Fear Of Flying.”

Despite the video’s unsophisticated visualization of the song’s theme, the mantric lyrics, repetitious like a chant of self-awakening, are decidedly not about fear of airplanes.

The metaphor rings deeper.

We all get used to dreams
That used to please
We all get used to dreams
That used to please

We all get used to dreams
That used to please
We all get used to dreams
That used to please

We all get used to dreams that used to please.

Indeed. We become complacent in that which we desire and the dreams, the ambitions, the fantasy, that it can be real becomes a tether in itself, anchoring us from progress, from attainment. Whether we want to become a world-famous band, or author, the dream and personal aspiration of such presents us the danger of living out the alternate world by mental proxy. We never achieve in reality that which we experience in daydreams. And it’s almost real.

Human minds are designed to derive pleasure from images and imagination. The smoke of wants.

It’s easier not to fly.