That Fast

 Alright. 
Let's break down some Math biz. 
Specifically Particle physics. 

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, Jack. Are you really just going to act like you weren't talking about what you were talking about yesterday." 
"For now, yes."

You gotta understand something about how my brain works.
I think I mentioned how I love reading. 
How I would wish the Fantasy's of the books were real so that I could be a super hero, or a hero with a  magic sword that could fix the world by swinging it around. 

When I read my entire perspective shifts. 
I fall into the universe of what I'm reading. 
Able to visualize it like I'm a free cam floating through and over what's unfolding on the page. 
Colors, smells, sounds, the whole nine. 
Talking and writing about those things is....quite literally me reliving it all. 
So...Yeah. I'm going to move on to something that helps me ground myself. 

Particle Physics. 

"Alright...but wait. Weren't you a C student in High School and didn't go to College."
"Correct." 

First they...
"Who's They?"
"The Adults. Teachers, doctors, family, etc."
 At first they thought I was too slow to understand.
Then they thought I was a Savant.

As I went through that second part I was like; "Yo, I'm not going to be their dancing monkey."  So every term when I got the syllabus and text book I would sit and read the text book cover to cover. Then figure out how many assignments and how many test questions I needed to get right to maintain the most average grades I could muster. 
I regularly argued with my math teachers because "Where did you learn how to do the equation that way?" 
"It's in like chapter 12 I think."
"We're on chapter 3, we're not covering that." 
"But this way is inefficient and wastes my time."
"Class time is my time, not yours." 
"Fuck off." 

So yeah...some teachers failed me out of spite.  Others just told me to get the hell out of their class when they were tabulating grades realized by getting a perfect test score on the last test gave me that 70%. 

Anyways....
Particle Physics.  
Where did the background come from?

Dirt.
Literally dirt. 

Imagine you've got this fucked up brain of mine. 
Can't formulate a proper sentence on the fly but can do math like I'm breathing.
Being around construction sites from the time I was old enough to walk, watching the dirt fall out of a bucket into a truck, how the trajectories and masses change with or without moisture, cold, warmth, height of the fall, consistency of the "dirt".  How the consistency changes the deeper you dig, how it changes as the machines move over it and interact with it. 

Then I looked up at the stars and see the same thing.
Just immensely slower and as I learned over time the scale to our own.

Not a savant.  
Just infinitely curious and refusing to stay in the boxes people tried to put me in.

That's the thing about the pre internet days. 
Most of the knowledge that we can access freely now not even a life time ago was locked behind doors with gatekeepers that would only let you pass if you looked and sounded right. 
So I just figured it out myself with what I had available to me. 
I'm still discovering things I thought I had figured out myself that existed in a dusty tome hidden behind those gatekeepers. 
All because the technology we have, if you know how to navigate them, bypass the gatekeepers and closed doors. 
The technology we have bridges the distance from around the globe so that if you have the right combination of letters and numbers you can contact anyone anywhere. 
For the kids that have grown up with this tech it doesn't seem out of the ordinary. 
For us that watched it develop. 
For the elders that can...
...could...
Remember a time before televisions. 

But those particles man. 

E=MC²

Alt-0178 

Hell yeah! 

To correct the equation as I see it. 
So you can see math the way I do when I look at the stars. 

E/G/MC²

That's what gravity is to me. 
And 
Hypothetically the "missing" graviton is hiding in plane site. 
In the heart of a Black Hole. 
Is the Heart of a Black Hole. 

G=D-R
Gravitation = Distance +/- Resistance 

The basic argument 
Gravitation being a function of speed and rotation. 
Distance a function of time and acceleration.
Resistance a function of external forces. i.e. heat, gravitational waves, radio waves, any of the literal billions of things that can affect a particle. 

My argument
That a graviton is not a fundamental particle in the way of a quark, but rather is Mass accelerated to C. Mass accelerated to the speed of light. 

My math still stays in the speed limit. 

That things aren't "sucked" into a black hole, but rather, collide with it. 
Like a bug on a window.

"What's the last thing to go through a bugs brain when it hits a windshield?"  
"It's butt."
>.<
"What's the last thing that goes through a persons mind when they hit a black hole?" 
"Dunno, haven't gotten close enough to one to find out." 
 
"Whoa, hold your horses there Jack. Black holes aren't moving as fast as light." 
"Oh really?  What happens to light when it hits a black hole?"

That's why I want to put a telescope on the moon. 
With at least two more in geosynchronous orbit to help sharpen and refine the image. 
The control scope being on the surface and the check sums at equidistance placement from the one on the surface. 
And to stare at a black hole.

"That's a big ask there Jack." 
"I know, that's why I'm trying to create world peace." 
"You're delusional." 

Na, not delusional. 
Crazy to think I could pull it off.
Absolutely.
But it's the only way I can get my telescopes up there. 
To get the whole world to come together on a single project.

So yeah, you got me. 
I am doing it all for selfish purposes. 
Because I want to fix Einstein's math. 

"You have done everything you've done just to put an observatory on the moon."
"Yep."
"How long have you been working on this?"
"About 35 years now."

"What's in it for us?" 
"Um....world peace?" 

A space race that's a relay instead of an arms race. 
Hope for the future.

As I compose my thoughts...Literally compose...

I'll explain how I was able to disprove time travel and refine string theory to fit within the known universe.

Have you ever played Billiards?

Lighter than a Feather

 "Jack, what was the first thing you ever produced?" 

Ah. 
Funny question that.
But I'm glad you asked because it needs talked about. 

I don't remember exactly what year it was. 

I'm pretty sure it was after Mac took over though.
No offense to the previous teacher but they were under so much pressure to "be strait".  Combined with students running around calling him slurs at a school that didn't punish for that kind of thing that most of his stuff was so safe it was borderline infantilized. 

The class was split into groups of 3 and had to come up with an original sketch to perform by the Next class I think, maybe the week.
I don't know if Mac did it on purpose or if we just kind of gravitated towards each other but one thing that we all had in common was that we had eating disorders.  

I was a binge eater. 
Still struggle with it to be honest but as I've gotten older and given much less of a shit about what people think and the side of neck comments often directed vaguely to no one in particular it's not a struggle, just need to remind myself to eat.  My ability to recognize hunger in myself is still fucked because it falls into the realm of the "normal" amount of pain and fades into the background.

"What's binge eating Jack?" 

It's where you starve yourself for long stretches and then because your body is so starved for nutrients your body ques you to over eat to compensate. 
Entering wrestling before I hit my major growth spurt and then fighting to keep that "good weight class".
Clothes gifted that were always for a child sized version of myself that never fit but I wore anyways because "tight pants are fashionable" 
"Family and Friends" body shaming pretty much anyone that didn't fit into that mold. 

I tell you what. 
I'm damn proud of my belly.  
Because it's a sign that I'm eating healthy. 
Or at least much much healthier since I quit drinking 8 years ago. 
I earned this fucking belly. 

After someone starves themselves for any period of time, when their body starts receiving  proper nutrition it over compensates. Stores extra fat incase they starve again.  
That's why you see a lot of blue collar workers with bellies but could easily put power lifters to shame with their strength and make marathon runners envy their stamina.
But that's the thing. 
They...
We work our asses off. 
Almost never stopping to eat so when we do get to eat our body puts a bit extra on em so they can make it through the long days without lunch breaks. 

That's right kids, if you don't eat healthy and want your body to literally start boiling your brain in your skull, you too could be "super model" thin!

Binge eating literally makes someone actually gain more weight in the long term.
Hell all of the disorders do. 
 
It's been almost 20 years since I was able to start managing this. 
Dealing with body dysmorphia, especially when working alongside models and the like. 
I remember when I was starting to spiral. 
After doing the analysis on what a  post Obama presidency was going to look like. 

On that point I wasn't wrong.  
The only prediction that hasn't come true yet is one we're still 3 years away from. 
But, that's not what this post is about. 

The spiral, I saw coming, I tried to talk to my partner at the time about it. 
Asked them to go to couples counseling. 
Not because I thought there were problems between us specifically, but because I needed someone to act as a translator, in a space where my partner would feel safe talking about the dark parts and we could come up with some sort of plan together to keep me eating and not feeling so isolated. 
But I wasn't able to say all of that. 

Instead I just said "we should go to couples counseling" with zero context. 
They said No. 
I can't blame them, they had just as traumatic experiences with the health system as I had and me saying that probably made them feel like I was going to try and take away their autonomy. 
So I spiraled. 

There's a video I go back to sometimes from that time, as a warning to myself. 
I was 130 pounds on a frame that should be at a healthy 190ish. 
Hell, over this last year I was able to go from about 250 to that target 190, but have been actually been gaining weight from maintaining and rebuilding healthy musculature.

No more spirals Jack. 

"You're abusing marijuana" is what they tried to say I was doing when they put me in those grippy sox. 
"I was like, na.  I'm half starved and dehydrated.   The Marijuana is the only things that keeps the tics from being so severe and lets my thoughts have a more coherent organization."

"Wait?  Getting high helps your thoughts organize?"  
"Kind of but not really." 

Tourette's manifestation is similar in function to a seizures.  
A misfiring or over firing of certain parts of the brain. 
It's disruptive to your thoughts.  
THC doesn't "cure" anything. 
Much the same way it doesn't "get rid of" pain.  

Asprin is a deadening agent. 
Blocks the pain. 
You have to be careful when taking aspirin not to make an injury worse because you won't know you did until it wears off. 
Regular use combined with regular drinking can cause Ulcers. 
Like it did with me.
I quite drinking because I got an Ulcer. 
Simple as that. 

Ibuprofen is a muscle relaxant and anti-inflammatory.  It doesn't cure pain, it just releases tension and reduces swelling and can destroy your liver if you take to much of it. 
Same as drinking.

What THC does, is that it attaches it's self to the most active neurons. 
Pain receptors in people with chronic illness. 
Epileptic centers in the brain. 
The places causing tics in Tourette's. 
CPTSD triggers in survivors. 

And acts as kind of a blunting of those neural impulses. 

Imagine a wave crashing against a rock. 
  The wave being a tic, or a seizure, or your pain. 
The THC is a rock and you're standing behind it. The water still slams into the rock as it would before but it turns it into sea spray that sends out a mist getting everything around the rock wet, but the person behind the rock is safe from the wave crashing into them. 

There's a double edge to that though. 
The impulses don't just go no where when the THC inhibits them it sends them into the surrounding area of the brain. 
Or rather areas connected the electrical impulses being inhibited. 
That's the high effect.
The minor hallucinations.  
It can be fun, it can be silly. 
It can unlock repressed memories. 
0.<

THC doesn't get rid of these things. 
The issues. 
It just, helps them become more manageable. 

And, when I learned all of this 28 years ago. 
 Because I'm obsessive about research. 
I came up with a crazy idea.

I hypothesized that THC could have positive effects for neurodegenerative conditions like Alzheimer's. 

Basically by the THC shunting the impulses from active neurons to surrounding ones and creating a Frankenstein like effect to them it could, even if for just a few minutes, bring back what was. 
Like a musician who's forgotten themselves stepping on stage and being pitch perfect. 
  
I won't go into the full details of the study here and how my research team was able to go from "Legal for only medical use" in 2 states to federally decriminalized and legal in some form in all 50 states. 
Hell I don't know if I could ethically present all of the findings. 
I'm just Subject 0 in that study. 
My study, sure, but still Subject 0.

Never ask someone to do something you're not willing to do yourself. 

If you're still under 25. 
I don't recommend touching that stuff unless you do have an underlying condition that a medical professional prescribes it for. 
Your brain is still in neurological development and I can't speak to the full effects it has before puberty and the effects on the developing brain. My study was focused on neurodegenerative disorders in the aging and elderly. 
And from what I've seen it's incredibly promising. 

Anyways...what was I talking about again? 
Oh yeah. 

The first thing I produced. 
The three kids with different eating disorders that stemmed from incredibly similar origins. 

The little skit was about a child being able to talk to their parent about their disorder. 

A simple skit that helped us realize we weren't alone in our fight. 
 To see beyond the abuse that drove us to believe our only self worth was in being "skinny". 
What ever the fuck "skinny" means.

"Three little birds....where on my doorstep..."

For the Record

 Alright. 

Now is the time to turn back if you're easily triggered. 

Hell, might be time to turn back even if you aren't.

But without the context all of the other things I talk about just makes me look like another ass hole trying to swing his dick around. 

So.

Let's talk about. 

Why I'm so good at identifying predators. 
Why I could never be Chris Hanson. 
Why I couldn't stay that calm in that kind of a situation.


Look.  
I laugh about a lot of dark stuff. 
Make some really dark jokes sometimes. 
I kind of have to. 
Because if I don't laugh. 
That "Remington Retirement Plan" is awfully fucking tempting. 

Comedians am I right?

So I'm going to just...rip the band-aid off. 

Imagine You're.... I don't even know how old. 
Trauma is funny that way. 

A child. 
Sitting in the shower. 

Watching blood leaking from between your legs wondering if you're really alive or just a ghost haunting the bathroom. 
Imagine the doctor says you have impacted stools and doesn't understand why you're constipated so regularly. 
Imagine you hide under the bed and are dragged from under it. 
Literal gun to your head. 
Is it loaded? 
Doesn't' matter, you're from a hunting family and you know what those things do. 
"You know we kill faggots around here.   If you tell anyone they'll kill you.  If you don't do what I say I'll kill you."
Imagine the next time you go to hide under the bed it's all blocked off by boxes.
You hide in the closet. 
You're dragged out again. 
Next time. 
Full of boxes. 

Now imagine you're a counselor sitting across from a tiny child that looks at you with the hard eyes of a killer and trying to figure out what would make such a tiny thing into such a scary little monster. 

That was my child hood. 

Why as a teenager I searched for answers from any and all religions. 

Until someone, someone that had the same soft sad eyes that looked at me from the mirror. 
The first person to actually see me. 
Not the scary little monster. 
Not the retarded kid that was "good at math and reading" 
Not the show dog pranced in-front of the cameras. 
Just a kid obsessed with learning and the stars, nose in a book, wishing the fantasies were the real world. 
They taught me how to pronounce the words I'd only read in books before. 
Never been able or allowed to say out loud.

My best friend. 
Maybe the only true friend I've ever really had. 

I miss them so much. 
And if/when I ever see them again all I want to do is be able to say. 
"You saved my life."

You want to know about my 20's were like. 

Go watch the Salton Sea, 2002, with Val Kilmer

And you'll have something of an idea. 
Much less Hollywood though. 
Much less closure. 

That's all for tonight, all I can handle right now. 
I need to go look at the stars for a bit and try to find some sort of reason for living through that. 

Oh yeah. 
Just for the record. 

Fuck Ice. 
In one of those If/When situations that I end up president I'll be shutting that organization down and banning anyone from it from federal or law enforcement for life. 

Sorry if you're "one of the good ones." 
But a few bad apples tends to rot the whole barrel if they aren't fed to the horses first.
That's just my opinion. 
Formed by a life time of learning. 

So yeah...
  
Did I tell you about Disney World? 

Stay Safe.

BafTax

 0.<

Tax return came in today. 

"Wait...Jack.  YOU get a tax return?" 
"Yeah. It's never more than $2k in total but it helps." 
"So you don't pay taxes?" 
"No, I do.  I claim 0 dependents."

Basically I lend money to the U.S government.  
I over pay in my withholdings and at the end of the year I get back what I over paid. 
The money usually pays for yearly subscriptions that I need for work, refreshing or repairing clothes, new tires for my bike.

Oh right. 
I don't have a bike anymore. 
Last one I had was dismantled with bolt cutters while I was at work.
0.<

Restocking the pantries.
And if there's anything left, treat myself to a dinner out. 

This year though, not so much. 

"Whoa whoa whoa Jack. Slow down.  You pay for subscriptions for work shouldn't you write those off?" 
"No."

 
Listen man. 
In order to build a working tax code and actually balance the nations check book I have to know the full cost of things.  

For example. 
"Ice" drinks. 
The little bottles of fizzy water with flavor. 
$1.27
Doesn't seem like much...unless you consider those same drinks were less than $0.50 before the pandemic. 

What the fuck does it matter that gas prices are artificially low if that doesn't translate to the grocery bill. 
When I was driving I only had to fill the tank once a month or so. Maybe once every couple weeks if I was making extra trips. 
What the fuck does it matter if gas prices have stayed the same when everything else has a literal 200% increase?
When minimum wage still sits at $7.25/hr? 

Which if minimum wage had maintained the standard on which it was originally set. 
Would be about $33.45/hr. 

You do the math. 
I did.

A million fucking times. 

"Oh, but if we pay people that much prices will sky rocket and inflation will spiral out of control."
"Fuck off."

When literally 90% of profits and wages shuffle up to the C Suite who's the fucking problem?
Why exactly would inflation spiral out of control? 

Funny thing about being me. 
All of the facts and figures are there, in my brain pan, but when I'm  told to "Use my Words" the first thing I say is Fuck Off. 

You figure it out. 
Ask me again why I just want to be left the hell alone most of the time.
If you haven't figured it out yet I'll explain it to you. 
I'm a mostly non verbal autistic person with minor tics.  
Well not minor.
Just heavily suppressed. 

Learning music was an awakening for me. 
Because if I sang I could talk.
If I did a spoken word poem I could speak. 

If you've ever spent any serious amount of conversation time with me you'll notice. 
The way when I'm interrupted I'll repeat almost a whole paragraph of what I just said just so I can get back to where I was. 

Then, start listening to rap battles.
 
My bars are gold aren't bruv.
 I breath coal from the stars and blow diamonds out into the world.

Anyways...the Baftas. 
Editing and handling. 
Racisim v.s. disability. 

Truth is either edit it all or leave it raw. 
The gentlemen on stage shouldn't have to be "used to it".
Me?
I would have thrown up the middle finger and walked off.
But that's white privilege.

The dude in the audience should have had appropriate placement in the building. 
That was just a fuck up on everyone planning the events part. 
"Let's put the dude with Tourette's in the middle of a crowd with attention regularly being pulled to  them in an emotionally charged environment and expect them not to tik." 

Fuck all the way off. 

Should have had a seat in an aisle with access to a bathroom or other space they could slip to when they needed to. I guarantee you bro has coping mechanisms that allow him to deal with the day to day but was thrown into a situation they'd never experienced before.
And left with his ass hanging in the wind.


"Whoa whoa whoa whoa Jack...you were talking about taxes." 
Yeah, well, you got to understand. 
I'm not a savant. 
Just someone fighting for survival with a normal level of intelligence. 
A dude with skills most of the people with my issues never learn because they're never given the opportunity to develop in their youth.

Because they're tranquilized into stillness and never given the opportunity to organize their thoughts.
Because the people around them never learn to communicate with them to see what is going on in their heads. 
Or they're thrown into places under the care of people that view them as subhuman.

Ask a def person how that feels. 
Ask a blind person why they get so irritated when the sighted leave their bullshit laying around everywhere.

That's why I'm always 5 to 10 steps ahead of people. 
Because I have to be. 
I'll leave the dark part of that alone for now. 

Back to Taxes. 
Claiming Zero.

That's the trick of the trade isn't it?  
Most everyone fills out a w-4. 
Many find themselves in trouble because they claim a dependent and then earn more than they expected and end up owing taxes. 

So I claim 0. 
Over pay. 
Then hire a tax person to make sure I get back what I'm owed 
But that's the kick in the dick isn't it? 
The way the current taxes are structured your average worker has no say in their taxes.
Can't afford someone to do the taxes for them. 
Shit.  

This year I went without groceries for almost a month to pay to have my taxes done. 
Not everyone can handle that kind of thing.

Not everyone can hire someone to do their taxes. 
But, that's the trick of the trade in the U.S.
You have to have someone do your taxes to make sure you're not under paying and to make sure if you over paid you get back what is yours.  

Think about that for a few seconds. 
This guy. 
Jack
The guy that can juggle complex algorithmic expressions by visualizing them, hires someone else to do their taxes?

MMhmm.
Because the tax code is fucked. 

Full of non logical functions and variables that change from year to year, sometimes month to month. 
Tax preparers have to take whole college level courses every year just to file your w-2. 
Fucked.

"Get to the point Jack, you're on way too many tangents." 
Taxes.

35%
That's the average for almost every person making under $100k/yr

State
Federal
SSI
Medicaid
Medicare 
Sales Tax
Property Tax
Licensing fees
Insurance 

Minimum average 35%

Do the math. 
I'll wait.
A lot of you, when you factor in Insurance are going to be like 
"75% !?!?!?!?"  But I only make $40k!!" 
Yeah. 
Like I said. 
Fucked.

Where as people making over $100k typically (not always) are paying 0 to 15%. 
And those paying 15% are the people not dodging what the tax code says they owe. 

Welcome to Ragennomics kids. 

"Oh, but they donate soooo much." 
On average, less than 1% of their income which they use that 1% of donations to knock off about 3% of their taxes in return. 
Then use subsidies to fund their businesses. 

For example. 

Tesla was giving carbon credits and other sweeteners to  develop....the cyber truck. 
The only reason tesla stayed soluble for so long and didn't collapse under it's own ineptitude was because they sold those credits to other companies for a tidy little profit. 

Credits paid for the by the tax payer. 
Sold to companies that couldn't earn on their own because of how much they polluted. 
Then pocketed and turned into what? 
Funding for platforming white supremacists with eugenicist ideologies? 
While companies that should have been improving their emissions were given a free pass to do business as usual. 

The road to hell is paved with good intentions right?

Math doesn't lie. 
That's why the C-Suite hates me. 
Because I see through their bullshit and can (when I need to) speak their language.

MAGA right? 
Wanting to return to a time of Jim Crow. 

While ignoring the things that actually "Made America Great" was
 
75 to 90% tax rates on the top earners. 
Salary caps in football terms.

Public transit for workers and laborers. 
Defunded after the civil rights movement of the 60's and 70's

A post office that offered an alternative banking service.
Lobbied nearly out of existence by banks and finance firms.

Minimum wage that allowed a single worker to support a family of 4.5
Decoupled from inflation during the 1970s

Mostly free college tuition
turned into a debt load in the 1980s. 

An education system meant to teach students life skills and foster science and the arts...that's in the constitution btw. 
Turned "no child left behind" in the 2000's 

Anyways.  

I do the math. 
Because I can't stand an unbalanced equation. 

Because math is the language of the Universe. 
Written in the stars
Expressed through song. 

How do I control my tics? 
Rewired my brain bits into thinking typing is vocalization. 
By learning type so fast I can type stream of conciseness almost faster than I can speak it when I get rolling. 
And then my fingers tic away so fast you wouldn't know what I was saying unless you put a keyboard under it.
Doesn't stop me from tapping my forehead, or sniffing, or rubbing my nose, or cracking my knuckles, or shaking my leg, or sneering, or my voice sounding mean when I don't want it to. 

Trust me. 
Learning to cope and/or mask isn't an easy thing. 
In fact, it feels impossible most days.

So yeah. 
I'm a Hermit. 
by definition 
Because it's the only way I can be me without people staring. 
I'm not afraid of going outside. 
It's just that as I get older the less I'm willing to put up with other peoples bullshit or stay silent when I see some shit ass doing some fuck shit.

Stay Safe

Doesn't Add Up

In my last post I talked about what I do for fun. 
Let me talk about what I do as an obsession. 

The other day I posted my notes on an equation I'm working on. 
Been working on it since...
Actually. 
I know exactly when the concept struck me. 

I was sitting on the porch, smoking a cigarette when I was 19? I think. 
Not a 100% certain when exactly. 
I just remember sitting on the porch on a cool evening very excitedly animating cosmic bodies movements when my hands as a friend equally interested corrected mistakes I was making. 
Then the equation struck me like a bolt of lighting. 
How to proof it and what observations needed made. 
I didn't quantify it until almost 20 years later. 

Since then I've been digging through archives and books trying to find the math that fits the model. 
not trying to shoe horn things in, but laying the model over existing ones to see which ones fit. 
Like a piece of tracing paper over an incomplete picture and trying to fill in the missing pieces.

Connecting the dots, quite literally. 

My note taking and computation method I developed in grade school. 
Scribbling out "random" shapes and coloring them in. 
When in truth I didn't know that maths could match my thinking. 
Each stroke a note. 
Each point an upstroke. 
Like a metronome. 
The colors and positioning giving it context. 

I could go back and run my fingers or the tip of my pen back over a line from point to point and like muscle memory I could rehear the world around me when the line was made. 
Quote it. 
It scared people because I could parrot back things verbatim, often imitating the speaker with the accuracy of a tape recording. 
I'm a bit out of practice now a days. 
At the imitation part because I sit in silence more often than not and don't do my vocal exercises like I should.

So let me break down the equation I'm working on and what it means. 

The thing that a lot of people get wrong in their astrometric calculations is trying to solve for G. 
Gravity. 

The thing is that Gravity is in every equation.  
It's not a factor or a function.  
It's the equal signs. 
It's the fulcrum on which everything else is balanced. 
That's why people can't "solve" gravity. 
Because it's hiding in plain sight making all of the other equations work. 

So let's break down the first function of the equation. 

C=D-R

C in the equation E=MC...shit forgot how to make a square on here. 
C = the speed of light. 
Our constant.

D = Distance
A function of speed and time. 
R = Resistance caused by particle collision and wave disruptions by gravimetric forces. 
R is most commonly represented by the Delta in launch equations.
 
Now for the scribbles in my drafting.
 

One of the observations/proofs for the equation is Gravitational Lensing. 
Represented in my notes by the diamond next to the G. 
One of the observations that I concluded based on Hawking's model of time.

Each stroke around the pieces of the equation like a tick on an abacus each point a place holder while testing the variables as they're dropped into the equations. 

If you've ever seen me walking through the a grocery store you'll see my fingers ticking rapidly. 
I'm counting in sign language. 
Using my hands as an abacus. 
Calculating the prices of what's in my cart v.s. what my budget is v.s. what's on the shelf. 
 
I'm a Librarian. 
I can scan an entire set of shelves at a glance and see what books are out of place and fix them in seconds. 
I love it. 
It's very zen. 
Shelving in the kids section is actually harder than an adult section.
20 kids books to 1 adult book on the shelf. 

Volunteers used to get mad at me because I'd sort an entire cart of books in a couple of minutes. 
"Hey, stop taking my job." 
Says an older woman volunteering as a Shelver so she didn't have to sit alone in the house where she lost her husband. 
Apologies ma'am I'll try to stay at my desk, but I get restless and need some brain bleach time too. 

So yeah. 
That page I posted and was questioned about I did so on purpose knowing that it would either irritate someone classically trained or get a troll trying to rage bait.  
Either way I needed the interaction to help me organize my thoughts in a way someone else may understand. 
Like I said. 
Rough draft of an equation I've been working on for almost 3 decades now. 

Stay Safe. 

Tarif Deez Nutz

Watching the state of things I'm just gobsmacked. 

"Greatest negotiator in history." 
"Greatest businessman in the world."

Isn't that the grift? 

But doesn't understand basic economic policies?  

What's a Tarrif?  

The nuts and bolts of it? 

Let's say that you have a small mom and pop shop that makes. 
I dunno. 
Candied Nuts. 

They get their nuts from a little farm in Mexico. 
Their sugar from Hawaii. 
Their pots and pans from China. 
Their paper bags from Canada. 

At least that's what it was like before the "great negotiator" showed up. 

So these nuts people like?
They love em.  
Everybody just loves a handful of nuts in their mouth when walking around the park. 
The Nut people are making a living. 
Doing decent enough they're able to open a secondary location. 
Between the two they're able to hire more people, donate some of their profits to community organizations, and maintain self sufficiency within the market. 

An "investor" sees this model, copies it, then finds the where this small business gets their supplies. 
Tells the supplier they can buy 10 times the amount mom and pop are if the supplier cuts them a 20% discount. 
From the suppliers point they're see this offer and say 
"Yeah sure, that's a good deal." 
Then the investor sets up their shop.  
Seeing that mom and pop hire more people than they need to cover their daily operations the investor hires fewer people and "saves" more money. 

This is where Tariffs come in. 
The Tariffs are meant to be placed on the investor as they enter the market place. 
To equalize their pricing with Mom and Pop. 

Because remember. 
Mom and Pop only need 3 people for shop coverage.  
Mom and Pop hire 10 people and pays them $15/hr because that's' what they can afford.
Investor needs 3 people so, they hire 2 people at $20/hr. 
"saving" $10 per labor hour.
The people being hired think they're getting a good wage. 
Not realizing they're going to have to work twice as hard. 
And when they're worn out. 
They hire a "manager" at $20/hr, and two helpers at $10/hr. 
Still "saving" $5/Lhr

So they take that $5/lhr "saved" and cut the price under Mom and Pop pulling income from them.
Eventually Mom and Pop can't afford to keep the operation open even with only 3 people.
So. 
The investor says. "I can set you up. Here's more money than you'll make in the next 10 years"  
Then the investor opens "Mom and Pops Nuts" in other markets. 
Paying managers $15 and hour and workers as little as the law will allow. 

Mom and Pop are being undercut on price and can't keep everyone on staff anymore. 
The people that Mom and Pop can't afford to pay anymore, with experience and work ethic, are offered those management positions. 


How would/should a Tarif be leveraged in this position? 
Well. 
On the investor. 
To make their prices equivalent too or greater than Mom and Pop. 

"That's not fair!" Yells the investor. 
"Fuck you Bezos" I say.

Because under the current system:

Not only is the investor able to do these kinds of things;  with deeper pockets they turn to the government and say "We have so many poor people working for us, we need subsidies to support them because we can 't possibly pay them a living wage.  Look at how thin our profit margins are!" 
"Fuck you Sam" I say.

So not only does the investor come into a market and disrupt it, able to absorb massive losses long enough to force Mom and Pops out of the market, once Mom and Pop are gone there's no balance in the market to keep the investor from doing this to other businesses. 
The investor starts removing resources from the market so that they can subsidize the same plan in other markets.

So not only are the people in the market being paid less, offered fewer benefits, working harder.  
They're being told "It's your fault for not working hard enough" the community is watching everything they built and worked for slowly being eroded away from underneath them. 

Then investor comes in and says "Oh no, look at how terrible this market is.  I can help, I have people I can bring in and fix it."   
And then gentrification of the market begins.


Let's rewind. 
the investor enters the market. 
The investor is Tariffed to a level that equalizes them against Mom and Pop. 
Mom and Pop continue operating as they were. 
The investor is forced to compete on wages, service, and quality. 
Then it's up to Mom and Pop to show the market, the people, why theirs is better. 

People with bad wigs think Tariffs are an income source. 
Tariffs are supposed to be put back into the market place. 
Through infrastructure support. 
For instance. 
By putting those tariffs into, I dunno, the Post office. 
Then shipping costs for the Mom and Pop equalize to the bulk pricing the investor is able to leverage. 
Not just for Mom and Pop,
But also for

The small farm in Mexico so that they're less dependent on bulk buyers offering them less by the pound. 
 
The Hawaiian Sugar can't be locked down to price out Mom and Pop.

The Pots and Pans from China keep a standard price whether they're stocked in a big box retailer or a tiny bodega on a hilltop in Colorado.  

And paper bags from Canada that biodegrade into mulch can be scooped up by farmers in the area growing fresh fruits and veggies.  Giving them, essentially, free coverage to protect their crops from weather snaps and other environmental hazards.

But hey. 
What do I know? 
I've only restructured the logistics of companies large and small. 
From Non profit to billion dollar corporations. 

I tell you. 
Mom and Pops are usually like "That's so cool, we can hire more people now!" 
Billion dollar companies say "But the investors won't get all the profits."
No shit. 
The investors get paid back with a nice bag of nuts to munch on from time to time.

"See see seee!! Jack's a communist, a dirty socialist, he's anticapitalist, anti american!!" 

Fuck Off. 

I just can't stand an unbalanced equation. 
I hyper focus on it until it balances out. 
It's just...Math. 

My philosophy on this:
For a nation to be successful you need three things to keep each other balanced. 

A Communist Military
A Socialist Government
A Capitalist Market

"Whoa whoa whoa whoa whoa, put the pitchforks down, here me out before you string me up." 

When someone enlists they do so with the understanding that when their uniform returns home, full or empty, their loved ones will be taken care of because of their service.  
That's communism. 

The government is meant to maintain infrastructure and arbiter the rules of war and logistics.
That's socialism.

You need a playing field for those that need the thrill of the hunt to play in with others like them
That's Football. 
That's capitalism. 

Right now, in the game of capitalism?
There aren't salary caps. 
 The refs are watching and being bullied by the coaches instead of paying attention to the game.
And no one is checking the balls for tampering. 
And a good chunk of the refs are on the field tripping players, moving the ball, and giving passes to players actively trying injure other players.

"If you're so good at this stuff where are your Billions Jack."  
Oh. 
Because I only take what I need and leave the rest to everyone else. 
If I were someone that was playing the game instead of trying to ref it? 
If you pulled together my entire portfolio and quantified it the way the ultra rich do? 
Honey.
Not hyperbole. 
I could buy and sell Bezos, Zuckerberg, and Musk 5 times over and still have enough left for a bagel and a coffee. 

"Bull shit." 
"I'll wait while you do your due diligence." 

The reason people that know me listen and those that don't are afraid of me? 
Because I don't do it to get rich or consolidate power. 
I do it for the love of the game and to protect the little guy. 

"With great power comes great responsibility." 
e pluribus unum

Graduate Programs

So this video popped up on my feed talking about "Mexican Schools"  
And as I listened to the story I was reminded of my own High School growing up. 

We had a Satellite school. 
What is a "Satellite School" you ask. 

A place where anyone with IEP is placed. 
Independent Education Program for those that don't know. 
"Oh why do we waste money on those?" a lot of people ask. 
"If these people can't learn why bother teaching them." 
Bruv. 
IEP's aren't just for handicapped students. 

I say handicapped instead of disabled in this situation because being poor or non white in the a 90's high school was a like a ridiculously large golf handicap. 
Like being told to box with one arm tied behind your back. 
IEP's are in their most celebrated forms are Gifted Programs. 
So.  
Understand that.


Because a Satellite school removed these students from the general school group. 
Their grades and whether or not they graduated didn't effect the over all school stats for funding, recruiting, and just "generally keeping it Christian." 
Oh, no, they got extra funding for students they put in this school but only adding their stats to the Schools stats if they "Performed" well enough. 
And perform we had to. 


Okay. 
Let's operate under the  assumption that they actually where upholding IEPs and set up this school for kids with disabilities and such.  
"Oh, we don't want them hindering other students education." 
Was the most often justification. 

Man, it's a good thing Stephen Hawking didn't go to American public school.

If that was the case. 
Why was it mostly filled with black, brown, and poor kids? 

Why did the school suspend queer kids that were attacked instead of the kids that attacked them? 
Those fuckwits just felt more emboldened and empowered to attack queer kids when they came back. 
"Gay Panic" I think is the court defense for attacking a queer person that excuses the attackers. 

Oh yeah. 
No. 
The kids that were put into the satellite school were there "To protect school safety." 
When they weren't even the kids causing safety issues to begin with.  
Hell most of them did everything they could to avoid problems because problems at school meant more problems at home.

Oh, and God forbid someone defended themselves when they were attacked. 

So when I tell you that sitting at a family dinner and this Jack Ass says "I want my kids going to this school because it's the only school in town with standards.

I froze. 
My eye twitched. 
I unbent my fork. 
Finished my food. 
Left the table. 
And haven't sat at a family dinner since. 
I think my silence and an empty chair speaks more to how I feel than any yelling or screaming I could do. 
If there was even a chair at the table for me to begin with. 

Few weeks later. 
Comment about Puerto Ricans. 
Okay...Jack. 
Change the subject. 
Something fun, something light. 
"Dude!  They're green lighting Nuclear power on the moon to power a moon base!!" 
"We've never been to the moon."

Me.
 Being an excitable educator started breaking down how, why, and what missions that have happened since having gone to the moon.

"Not real, all theoretical.  Never happened"

I snapped. "I'm done talking to you.  Now stop standing the in the way and fucking move!"

Anyways....

"Jack, why do you want to live in Manhattan?" 
So I can irritate Dr. Tyson with my questions and maybe get a job at the Museum. 
Because it's a giant city that I want to study from top to bottom. 
Because it's not here. 

TBH. 
Any major metropolis would work. 
In fact the older the better. 
Easier to compare and contrast the modern v.s. the old architectural designs. 

Dude. 
Having the days in Edenborough and London was mind blowing and gave perspective to so many things. 
I was walking around like a slack jawed yokel the whole time. 

"Jack, how did you get to Edenborough"  

A group of people and I taught theater students how to run their own theater. 
Fund their own programs.
They got invited to the Fringe Festival. 
Wrote their own music. 
Wrote and Produced their own show. 

The other classes that were there did things like "The Crucible." "Peter and the star chasers" stuff like that.
All very well put together, all very talented. 
All very safe, very inoffensive. 
And understandably they saw what our class had done and lost their shit. 
In a good way.

They had an extra ticket I guess. 
Regardless.
They needed another Chaperone and I was requested. 
The level of imposter syndrome I had during that trip was so real I can feel it now. 
There were other people who had spent more time with the kids, knew them better, had better report with them. 

Imagine it from the kids perspective though. 
Or at least I try to. 

"John Wick's our chaperone?!?!"

Studying and learning all of the streets and back alleys so I could get from point a to point b faster than a car or bus if I needed to. 
Criss crossing the kids paths as they explored on their own making sure they were safe. 
Carrying my phone in my hand so if they needed me they could call me or their parents could contact me if they couldn't get a hold of their kids for some reason.
Helping them deal with and work through their own fears and feelings of being an imposter.  
Making sure all the little ducks were in the pond before dark.
Just doing my best to be a tree they could shelter under when they needed it. 

Man. 
Kids are the future. 
It's just our job to make sure they have the tools they need to figure it out themselves.

Only award I've ever accepted was from those kids. 
"Creating community through art" 
If I remember correctly is what it says, buried in a box somewhere. 
All I wanted to do was run away and hide standing on that stage.
I still don't think I deserve that hunk of acrylic. 
It belongs to someone else. 
It belongs to those kids.

Mo the Meanie

 How do I do what I do? 
 
Pretty simple. 

I was groomed. 


Predators see each other when no one else does. 
And human beings are the apex predators in their little biosphere. 

By all rights I should have been one of those ass holes. 
One of those guys that would seek out someone with a private island and...well.  
As these files are released and coalited. 
Studied and broken down.  
You see the type of people that visit private islands. 

But. 

They couldn't break me. 
Couldn't get me to see the world through their corrupted lens. 

Let's talk about the tiger at the zoo rq before I snap my keyboard getting to lost in the past.
I think I still have a couple keyboards left. 
But still. 


When I was in DC I went to the zoo. 
Wandered around, checking out the critters, trying to avoid crowds.  
Then I found myself in a fairly large crowd everyone kind of "Oooing" and "awwing" over something just around the corner. 

Curious.

It was a tiger.  
Massive. 
Commanding. 
Sunning on a rock. 
Watching the crowd with lazy eyes. 
I moved through the crowd slowly.  
My eyes locked on the giant cat. 
I moved carefully. 
Didn't touch anyone. 
Get too close. 
Just moved through the crowd like walking through grass. 
The tigers eyes widened slightly. 
They saw me. 
They followed me. 
And when I worked my way to the other side of the crowd the tiger rose. 
Stretched. 
Yawned
And settled back down on it's haunches facing directly towards me. 
I chuckled and slipped around the corner. 
A low rumble followed me. 

That's why. 
Because like that tiger I see the predators in the crowds. 

They often see me. 
Thinking I'm another tiger.  

Tigers, by and large, are lone hunters. 

But I'm not a tiger. 
I'm a Lion.  
With a big mane. 

What's the difference you ask. 
The Lion does the same thing when it sees another Predator. 
Difference is. 
The pride takes notice. 
The lionesses start to stretch. 
Ready to hunt. 

And that's why they never see "me" coming. 
Because it's not my eyes they should be watching.  


I only say this because there's ice on the roads in Kansas. 
Home of the Jay Hawks. 
Don't know who they are?  
Ask John Brown. 

Back to the point. 

I was left in the pit with tigers. 
And I got out. 
And now. 
I hunt them. 
I find them. 
I identify them. 

All for the love of the game. 
And the kids I don't want having to go through what I did. 

"Retard rage?" right.  
That's what they call it. 

I don't get mad anymore. 
Sad sometimes. 
Bit excited. 
But not mad. 
It scares me to be honest. 
The calm. 
The stillness of mind and body when the instincts take over. 
The only thing....

Did I mention I went to Disney World? 

First time I was there was waiting in line for Whinnie the Pooh. 
Didn't matter how childish the ride was it was something I'd never seen before and the craftsmanship of the place unparalleled in a lot of ways. 
But then I saw an angry man. 
Mad at a child. 
He hurt the child. 
My hands went to the bars, my legs coiled to spring.  
To send my whole weight flying into a man twice my size. 
I'm not very big. 
5'9" without shoes. 

But a soft hand I trusted touched my shoulder. 
Quietly said "please don't" 
The family was shuffled ahead in line and quickly let onto the ride. 
The man thinking he had won some victory. 
Not realizing that those two people had probably just saved his life. 
The one he was berating and the one he never saw.

That's why I'm good at what I do. 
Because I see the Predators when they're stalking. 
See how other critters around them respond. 
See the kids that are like I was. 
Or worse.
The ones that are broken. 
Thinking that it's the only life they'll ever know. 

You're welcome to go through my dating history. 
Ask whatever questions of whomever you want. 
Don't disrespect them though. 
Don't make that mistake. 
All of them are smarter than me, kinder than me, and wiser than me. 
You should be far more scared of them than I. 
You won't see them coming if they take it into their mind to catch you. 

Returning to the present.  
I see the photos that are released. 
Surface level innocuous. 
Poorly decorated spaces with overly expensive scenery. 
Jokes are made about them looking like 2 star Air Bnbs. 
"For someone with so much money and rich clientele everything looks so cheap." 

White carpets. 
Barren furniture. 
Nothing that speaks of comfort. 

White to show blood. 
Disposable carpets. 
Disposable furniture. 

I damn near flipped my desk. 

"No bull dogging here" 
I was warned when I got to Oregon.
"Why?" I thought. 
Then I started looking around.

Dead Indian Memorial road?
A black woman surprised at my easy smile and kind eyes directed toward them coming into the library. 
An older Jewish woman always with something to kvetch about asking if I could poke my head out of the sorting room. 
A letter from the school saying that Klan was restless in my neighborhood. 

Don't bark.
Don't growl.
Don't bite. 
Got it. 

All right kids. 
Gather round. 
It's story time.


SISU

Jorge once said.

 So Jack. 

"Do you accept the lord Jesus Christ as your savior."  

Oh buddy. 
I don't think you've studied enough to ask me that question.  

But. 
I'll answer. 

I was raised by Catholics.
Harassed by "Christians" 
Educated by Mormons. 
Saved by Jews. 
Listened with a clear mind to Imams 
Taught by Taoist and Buddhists. 
And prayed with Pagans.

And from of all of that I learned that the difference between faith and belief is the same as right and wrong. 

Belief in something is an immovable part of a persons fundamental being. 
I believe I need to eat. 
Because if I don't I will starve. 
I believe I need to drink water. 
Because if I don't I will dehydrate. 
I believe I need to breath. 
Because if I don't I will suffocate. 

Faith on the other hand. 
Can't be quantified as such. 
I have faith that there are good people. 
I have faith that I can be a good person. 
I have faith in the kindness of strangers. 


Do you see the difference? 

I've read all the texts. 
All of them. 
Cover to cover. 
Even multiple versions of the Bible. 

You know what I Learned?
Jesus washed the feet of Whores. 
Jesus sat with Lepers. 
Jesus broke bread with his enemies. 
Jesus didn't judge the poor before helping them. 

The Devil's greatest trick was convincing humans' they didn't have a choice. 
God's plan was to let us choose between right and wrong. 
And the rest is stories that illustrate the point.

So when you ask me if I "Believe Jesus is my Lord and Savior." 
I'd tell you Jesus wouldn't even want you thinking of him that way. 
At least according to his deeds and actions.
And his own words. 
Miracles aside. 

The sad and sorry fact of it is. 
Even if I did believe in all of the Miracles and mysticism around Jesus. 
I'd be terrified. 
Because with the timing and events. 
If Jesus has come back?
He's sitting in a Detention Center. 
Or in a camp on the border. 
Waiting for some one to show him kindness. 
That his Faith wasn't misplaced. 
And angry at the treatment of the people around him.
Because that's his story. 
That was the message. 

So.
 
That's my faith. 

Nothing made me less "Christian" than actually reading that Good Book that people are so fond of quoting out of context. 
Nothing made me trust my Jewish friends more than their reasoning that Jesus could have been a real person, and if he was he was a good Jewish boy. 
I know that the followers of Islam see Jesus as a prophet alongside Mohammad. 
Learned to listen to the world around me and do what I can from the Taoists. 
Learned to see the magic in the every day from the Pagans. 

So if you ask me that question. 
Please understand. 
I offer my prayers as the Rasta. 
And have faith that they will be heard. 
Everything else is stories, smoke, and the acts of people hoping they're doing the right thing. 

"I woke up this morning. 
To the rising sun..." 

George Carlin once said. 
"I keep a dusty old joint in the back of my drawer.  I take a few puffs before I write and then let the words flow." 
That may not be verbatim on that one. 
I'm quoting from memory. 
George said a lot of stuff.

https://youtu.be/W7JkpTs3wkM

J. F. Fletcher

 Oh man. 
Age verification. 

Hmmmm. 

I think it's necessary. 

But the roll out and reasoning is shit.  


Here's the deal. 
Privacy and Safety.  

On Privacy side you need a way to age verify that isn't going to compromise your personal information. 
On the safety side you gotta be able to keep creepers away from kids. 

Answer?
The library. 

Think about this. 
As the Bush administration was pushing for more surveillance and digging at peoples personal information. 
The Librarians pushed back. 
To protect peoples privacy. 
It is/was a long fight. 
Still going. 

Why do you think "conservatives" want to shut down libraries? 

2 reasons. 

1. They don't put up with bullies. 
2. That's where the receipts are. 

By law, legislative bodies have to provide their budgeting information. 
Proposed, 
Actual
Variances. 

Trust me, I've spent days and weeks in those stacks. 
The reference section. 
On the shelf, for anyone to request and review. 
It's called public accountability. 

So if someone keeps throwing receipts in your face what do you do? 
Burn the receipts right? 
Defund the libraries. 
Close the doors.
Then no one can find out the truth.

So. 

Have the libraries handle age verification. 
They're a part of the community. 
Know the people and will protect their privacy. 

"But Jack, I thought you wanted the Post Office to handle everything." 

No. 
The post office is meant to handle ballot deliveries and counting to make sure there aren't too many. 
Not reading them. 
JeezUS
Do you even know what a postal carrier does?

So your library account get's age verified.  
You provide you library card/account number. 
The library gets pinged with a yes/no question that verifies the age you provide. 
And there ya go. 

Keeps creepers outta kids lobbies and kids out of adult spaces. 
And licensed professionals the ability to monitor children's spaces for creepers that slipped through the cracks. 

Librarians, educators, health professionals. 
Are mandatory reporters. 
They are ethically and legally obligated to report shenanigans that harm kids. 
Not optional. 

Why do you think creepers don't want their kids in public schools or libraries?

How do you take all of that a step further? 
Your smart phones. 
Or, 
Personal Data Terminal if you prefer. 

I'd have them issued by libraries.  
Your little black box that lets you access networks and information.  
And other people in your age category and/or age categories you're licensed for. 

"But I don't want to carry a tracking device in my pocket." You say?

 
That' fine.  
If you need verification for something just go to the library.  
They'll verify your age in person, provide the library with the Screen name/player tag you're wanting to not be blocked from online play and then they  unlock a device with the necessary verifications and you fill out the required details from there.  
Hand the tablet back to the librarian, they reset the device to delete the memory.  
Done and done.   


"I don't want my kid to have one of these things, especially in the class room."  
Good.  
Me neither. 
That's where desks and/or lockers come in.  
They leave their device in the desk/locker during class. 
The desk will pass through any messages from emergency contacts in the phone. 
And if a kid doesn't have a pdt and needs it for a class or to do a project. 
Well, good news, there's one in the desk with a school account the student can claim while they're at school. 

The teacher can send assignment updates and things through the "Desk Network" or the "Desk Work"?  
I dunno. 
I'm terrible at naming things. 
Further reading for when they're not in class, visual aids, tailored lessons to the students learning situation.

That would mean tampering with a Library registered PDT would be a federal crime. 
Same as tampering with a mail box. 

And online spaces, though not perfectly safe would have some delineation and prosecutors going after predators would have teeth to do it with that wouldn't rely on victims coming forward. 

Cause that's how a lot of abuse cases fall apart. 
Either the victim never comes forward or doesn't feel like they're being kept safe and refuses to testify. 
Often returning to the abuser believing the monster they know is better than the one they don't.
Which, sadly, because of lack of funding and oversight the foster system can be just that.
A worse monster.


So yeah. 
Age verification. 
Yes. 
Astrix. 

Me. 
I have no problem verifying my age online. 
After all I am a professional and mandatory reporter. 
I've done it for a couple of platforms already, because I support the cause if not the application. 

"But what if your data get's breached." 
Dude. 
Seriously? 
I'm a Xennial. 
An age where if you were poor you are gen x and if you were wealthy you were a millennial. 
My data was in the phone book. 
My data has been breached so many times I've lost count and have a file just for that. 
BoA?
Yep.
Every gaming platform?
Yep. 
Places I didn't even know had my data because they were selling it without notification and didn't start saying they were selling it until the E.U. lit into their asses?
Yep. 

So if you're telling me my data will be breached that's like telling a hocky player they're going to get hit by someone.
No shit.
 
At least if my data is in the hands of the library or post office I have options and know the postal inspectors are going to handle it.  
Dude
I'm telling you. 
Don't fuck with postal inspectors. 
They scare me. 
And no one scares me.

You can keep your dark webs and however many chans you think it's going to take to "stay pure" or what the fuck ever. 

But on Jessica fucking Fletchers internet.  
We keep kids safe. 
The kids policing themselves and the professionals backing them up. 

Huh?

 I was such a literal kid. 
Hell. 
Still am. 

I don't remember how young I was when the idea got stuck in my head. 
"If you're not careful you'll go blind." 
"You'll go def if you keep listening to loud music." 
"If you're not careful you'll loose a hand."
"A finger"
"An arm."
"A leg." 

So I do a lot in the dark. 
Which funnily enough has saved my eyes with all the screen time my research involves. 

I practice being blind. 
Learned to navigate the world by listening. 
Shower in the dark most of the time. 
Move through my space, laying down rugs and things in mind that if a blind person walked into my space I could show them where the bathroom, the fridge, and the couch is and know they'll be able to find their way back without my hand holding. 

I walk through the world with headphones on looking at the world as if I were def. 
...
That's one's a little more personal. 

Warning a bit of the dark part coming in. 

When I was a kid there was a Thanksgiving that I had an "Ear Ache"
Was put in a side room screaming my head off because of the pain. 
Screaming until my voice was hoarse and kept screaming. 
Until I passed out from exhaustion. 

Someone. 
I don't know who because memories when you're little are funny.  
They can be sharp as the day they happened but the edges blurry. 
Someone smacked me upside the head. 
And blew my eardrum. 
Hearing in that ear is weird, muffled, to this day. 
It sounds like when you put your ear in a pillow with a speaker under it. 

That's how I got started wearing headphones. 
Because they protected that ear from the wind. 
Would help from getting an "ear ache" again. 
Audio books from the library man. 

So I practice being def. 
Still terrible at sign language even though I I've learned enough vocabulary to hold a conversation. 
I'm just out of practice. 
No one to talk to.

I took a vacation week in my early career where I tied my dominate arm down and lived like I had lost it. 


But yeah, back to the point. 
Sitting in the dark helps with the Migrains and lets the eyes recover from staring at screens. 
It also makes for interesting meditations. 

Anyways.  
Back to the point of the family farm. 
I want to buy it. 

Why?
I want to turn it into a veterinarian training school. 
Tear down the barns, recycle the barnwood for crafts projects. 
Rebuild them. 
Turn the stud barn into the surgical suites. 
Turn the Hay barn into an on property dorm for the students and staff for emergencies. 
Turn the house into a cafe. 
Grandma's place. 
Serves bacon, eggs, coffee, and toast in the morning. 
Dinner. 
"Something" whatever we got over rice.

Coffee 24 hours. 

Grandma passed this last year. 
She was ready. 
She'd been ready for years. 
Since grandpa passed. 
Only thing that kept her going was Catholic guilt. 
We said our goodbyes when I first got back to Kansas. 
People thought I didn't care because I rarely visited. 
I was just respecting her wishes. 
She asked me not to start any fights. 

And some days, when you're dealing with family, that's a big ask.

Not just a dog and cat vet though. 
Livestock as well. 
'cause that's what those buildings were to me when I was a kid. 
The vet would come to us, take care of the critters. 
Hell. 
Growing up most of the dogs and cats where spayed and neutered on the kitchen table and woke up in the bathtub as the anesthesia wore off. 

Oh yeah, and the ambulances. 
Mobile clinics for herd care and checkups for the critters that need it.
2 of them with live stock trailers for single critter moving and pop up clinics. 

With the "Hay Barn" having a back entrance where big critters can poke their heads into the common space while they recover and their owners can visit. 

Owners. 
eeef. 

The difference between owners and jockeys...
Grandpa was a jockey. 
That came to own his own horse. 
Hard Times. 
Lived to like 35 years old. 
Grandpa took that death harder than any other. 
I don't think he ever recovered to be honest.


So yeah. 
That's what I plan to do with the Settlement from BoA.
The accounting firm and accounts are already set up.

Currently at just over 4 Million. 
And the meters running. 

Tik Tok

Anyways. 

I'm running out of boogers. 

>.<;

You know what my first call sign was?   
Monkey Boy. 
Barbie said I "Reminded her of one of those wind up monkeys with the cymbals." 
Silent and still until I got wound up then you couldn't stop me until it ran out of energy.

Imagine that. 
At 18 years old. 
Outside of my day to days? 
The hand off point for Un Accompanied minors between parents and flight attendants. 
And prisoner transports for the Marshals. 

Imagine how those dudes felt. 
You're a bad ass Marshal transporting a prisoner for whatever reason. 
You have to get your paperwork checked by security professional before you can get on the plane. 
And instead of an older person meeting you a tiny kid with their hair hanging in their face walks up. 

Imagine you're a member of the National Guard after the World Trade center was attacked, years before TSA  
Shift change and the new checkpoint supervisor shows up. 
"Who the fuck is this kid?  Did they hire at the local grade school?" 
Yuck it up there chuckle fuck. 
You have no idea how many ways I could disassemble you before you even realize what's happening.
"Oooo, that's a fancy gun you got there, can I hold it?"

Now I have grey in my beard and that kid is looking at me in the mirror from under the wrinkles and tired eyes.
"Did we get the terrorists yet" The kid asks.
"It's a lot more complicated than you think little man" My older self says.
"How so?" Asks the kid.
"Cause the terrorists aren't the problem" 
"But they blew people up, how are they not the problem?" 
"They're just a symptom kid." 
"You mean like in epidemiology?"
"Yep."
"Oh, I studied that a couple years ago."
"Yep." 
"So what's the disease then?" 
"You're not going to like the answer."

Anyways...
Back to the point.

Trying to buy the farm.
But not figuratively. 
I'm actually trying to buy a farm. 

And keep it a farm. 
Or at least farm adjacent. 

Dr? Who?

Did you know that Veganism was started by people that raised cattle and livestock? 
As a protest against industrial farming. 
Because these farmers thought industrial farming of animals was cruel and unusual. 
 Think about that. 
Really think about it.
The people that raised, slaughtered, and sold livestock were the ones that started Veganism. 
As a protest. 

Let me tell you the story of the Kansas Farmer.  
Specifically that of my grandfather. 


I don't know the whole story, just the parts I saw. 

He was a sharp shooter in the army.  
Pistoleer specifically. 

When he was nearing the end of his life he could barely stand but he walked to the barn every morning just before sunrise.
And I would walk beside him. 
Feeding the barn cats mostly at that point. 

Because there weren't anymore horses. 
Or chickens. 
Or Cows. 
Or Hunting dogs. 
Or even an annoying ass goat trying to head butt you off the picnic table. 

See. 
When I was a kid.  
The grandparents place was on farm amongst a handfull in the area. 
They all worked together. 
Helped each other get the hay in after the cutting. 
Working with the horses. 
Replacing roofs.  
You know, the kind of stuff that people help each other with when all you have to offer is your hands and your back.  
But to farmers?  
That's more valuable than gold. 


I would hear Grandma and Grandpa talk about things when they thought I was outside. 
When I was sneaking in to get a jolly rancher or into the room that had the little shelf of books from the dollar store. 
People dumped trash out here. 
Still do. 
Just go look at the local trail head.  
Looks like a garbage dump. 

Furniture. 
Trash. 
Pets...
That's where Wee Man came from. 
Somebody's Christmas kitty dumped out in the country because they didn't want to take care of him. 
Hell, that's where most of the barn cats came from. 

Anyways.  
So yeah. 
People would just come out and dump trash. 
Where we grew food, where we played. 
Where we lived. 

As the farmers got older and died their land would be auctioned off. 
That was the deal that everyone made with each  other.  
Kept it fair for everyone.  

Well...
Until the horse pasture was sold.  
Farmers, hat in hand, everything they had.  
Lined up to make their bids. 
Knowing it didn't matter who bought it, that it was a horse pasture for turning the herds out during the spring. 

Even pooling resources, couldn't stop the land from being sold to developers. 
People that had never, and still never, worked the land a day in their lives. 

As more and more vehicles drove on the road. 
Mismanaged waste from surrounding businesses and housing developments poisoned the ground water that fed the well.
The water my family grew up drinking. 
I made the mistake of making a pot of coffee once with tap water.  
I'd been living in the city too long. Habit. 

It looked like an oil slick.  
Like the water they pulled those ducks out of during the oil spills. 

As Grandma got older and forgetful we had to throw away a number of coffee pots because they weren't safe to boil water in after running well water through them. 

But hey. 
what do I know?
 
I'm just poor kid from Kansas. 
Who ate free breakfast at school...
Thanks Huey.   
I would have been even more hungry without those. 

Who ate at pancake feeds regularly. 
I thought it was a treat when I was kid.
A party.  
Fuggin stacks of pancakes, all the syrup you want, orange juice AND chocolate milk.  
Bro!!
Didn't realize it was because we didn't have enough grocery money. 

Who.  
When the stretches between breakfast and dinner seemed too long and all I had was a jolly rancher to  suck on would eat a hand full of dry dogfood while feeding the puppers so my stomach wouldn't rumble so much. 

Where most of our cereal and canned goods came from garage sales and catching stuff a day past the expiry date or too dented for regular store shelves.  

Who's entire Sunday afternoon (after Grandma got back from church) would read the paper and help clip coupons while fantasizing what it would be like to have fancy toys and clothes that didn't come out of a garbage bag. 

So when I tell I met Justice O'Conner once, in the halls of the Supreme Court.  
Understand something. 

I take my responsibilities very seriously. 
I don't Lie.
I honestly don't even think I'm capable when asked a direct question.

I might joke, or be foul mouthed, or even be offensive just to avoid having to answer
But I don't Lie.
  
So when I tell you everything I have done since I was old enough to know what was what was in service to that one person. 
My only reader. 
My only follower. 
The only reason I ever posted on social media. 

I took an oath. 

I walked through those doors ready to raise holy hell. 
Hopping mad and ready to sit there until I could argue my case. 

'Cause that's something you have to understand about me.  
I've been defending myself in court since I was 16 and got my first parking ticket. 

I'd been injured wrestling. 
Was working on a play and was teaching science lessons at the local grade schools. 
So I parked in a space that was designated handicapped parking during events.  
Still a couple hours before people should start showing up.  
Didn't worry about parking between the lines because the lines were double painted and it was difficult to tell which space was which and I was a kid in a hurry. 
So I argued my case, in front of the officer that left the ticket. 
That was charging the maximum fine. 
I wasn't even trying to argue I didn't deserve the ticket. 
Because I admitted I didn't go to move my car until people started showing up.  
After the small area was reserved for handicapped parking. 
The judge had me pay the minimum fine for double parking. 

Lesson learned. 

Why was I so mad? 
I'd just spent the last 10 years in Klan land. 
Look up and do your due diligence on "The State of Jefferson" and get back to me. 

Trust me, if you have any empathy for human beings you'll understand why I was ready to fight anyone that got in my way. 

I walked through those doors. 
The halls were empty except for an old blond lady behind a desk. 
I nearly shit my pants. 
We weren't supposed to be in the same state together, let alone the same building. 
I nodded the way I do when I acknowledging anyone to let them know they're seen. 
I kept walking. 
Don't even think I broke my stride. 
I walked down the hall. 
Looked at those massive doors and saw a set of stairs just past. 
Needed to collect my thoughts real quick. 
I had to have been going crazy. 
No fucking way. 
I found myself looking at massive portraits hanging on the wall.  
Bigger than life. 
I looked at Justice O'Conners portrait. 
First Woman on the Supreme court. 
A conservative judge that ruled in favor of abortion.
A woman that made their voice be heard by writing their own opinions and decoupling them from those of their male counterparts. 
Did I agree with everything Justice O'Conner had an opinion on? 
Absolutely not. 
But She was arguably the most ethical person that ever put on those robes.

Studied that painting for a long fucking time. 
Felt like forever, light headed, heart pounding. 
Holy shit. 
Balance, breath. 

I walked back up to the woman behind the counter. 
She gave me the most Mona Lisa of smiles I'd ever seen on a living person. 
I tipped my hat and walked out. 

I sat on the steps for awhile. 
Fucking legs didn't want to work. 

Was I crazy.  
I touched my chest where one of the bullet holes is. 
No. 
Well. 
Yeah.
I'm crazy.
But not insane. 
The scars are real. 

Then I went and dropped my resume at the Smithsonian. 
Systematically walked through every Museum and monument on the National Mall. 
Went and bought a Tote bag at the NPR headquarters and chickened out before leaving my resume. 
Yelled at the clouds about why motherfuckers leave trash in the street while some dudes sitting on the stoop looked at me wondering if I was tweaking or not. 
Shared water and snacks with some homeless people. 
Went to Philadelphia to follow a lead and ended up touring most of the university campuses there to see what kind of programs they had and realized.  
"I'm almost a decade older than anyone else on the campus, should I be applying to be a professor or a student? 
Why not both?"

Wrote my PHD thesis on the train to New York and dropped it at the Museum of Natural history in hopes of getting a cosign from Dr. Tyson. 
Did the same systematic study of the Museum, Central Park, and most of Manhattan that I did at the national mall. 

Writing and taking notes every step of the way. |

Then, running low on funds because another purpose of going to New York was to go the Bank Of America and Chases headquarters to see about a loan until I could secure research funding.
Bank of America chased me out. 
Chase froze my debt with them until I could settle things with BoA.  
On the condition that when the funds were made available in full those funds would go through Chase and pay out all of my debts from that account before I could access any further. 
Trade off is I have to pay a monthly militance fee on the account. 
I don't like it. 
But, someone has to verify the account activity each month so... 
Fair trade for someone's 15 minutes. 

After all.  
My billable hour is $60. 
$1 a minute. 
The ladies at the Tailor's shop taught me that. 
Price is negotiable for educational programs and non profits. 
Hell. 
Want me to do a story time?
Fruit snacks and a bottle of water and you got a deal.

So at $60 an hour, being unable to accept research funding or leverage any sort of credit for the last 7 years. 
You do the math. 
Meters running. 

BoA sent the debt to collections without arbitration. 

So about every six months I get a letter from a debt collector "representing" BoA. 
I respond with the settlement amount that increases the longer it takes. 
And I've been doing that same dance since 2019. 
Because every penny of the BoA debt is interest on a principle amount I paid off years ago. 
They know it. 
I know it. 
The debt collectors know it. 
So they just keep kicking the can down the road. 

And that's how I use my "White Privilege". 
 To wait out and fight the banks. 
Frozen in place until it settles. 
I'd really like it to settle. 
There's a school and a hospital waiting for those funds to become available. 
When the truth is I grew up poor. 
Never forgot where I came from. 
And am willing to work for grocery money. 

"Oh, but Mem you've been buying gaming consoles and a computer and this and that." 
You want to know where that money comes from? 
Selling off my retro games collection. 

The same collection I used to run a library program in Oregon teaching about the history of gaming.  
A program, that as far as I know the kids that would come and hang out are running to this day. 
A program that turned into a convention that takes over most of the town around the Library and features local artists and crafts people. 

The same collection the banks refused to accept as collateral when I was trying to secure research funding. 

The same collection that turned into this computer that I'm typing this out on right now. 

So yeah. 
When I seek teachers. 
 I seek out the best. 

Not because I think I deserve it. 

Because I'm not just trying to open the door for the kids behind me.
Kids hungry in a country that has more food than it knows what to do with. 

I'm ripping the doors off and turning the building into a park. 

Oh yeah. 
And Ice.
After this settles.
 
You're next.

Game Over

Did I get any sleep last night? 
Eh. 
That's what happens when you're in the middle of a project and then you get a call to lend a hand the following morning.  
Even dropping everything as soon as the call came in meant cleaning everything up, putting it away.  
Running myself to exhaustion so I'd get something like sleep before needing to make the appointment. 
Fucking irritating.  
Not just the fact that it completely destroys what ever focus I had and means the next time I sit down to work on the project I'm going have to back track hours of work to find where the threads were originally connected just to get back to the point I was at. 

But hey.  
I need grocery money right? 

Anyways.  

Wake up.  
Get excited because languages I'm learning are starting to make sense to the point of being able to properly follow conversations.  
Yes.
Languages.
Plural. 

Get even more excited because an architect I follow posted a word I've been trying to communicate for...years really.  
That's the problem with being an auto didact. 
I don't always have the vocabulary and have to listen to other people to find it. 
Like a dictionary, but with cultural context, not just the definition. 

Anyways.  

Fuggin shit sleep, long ass day, sore as fuck. 
Still wake up excited....
And no one but tik tok to share it with. 
And....
Bro. 
the views. 

Fucking irritating.  

I post some silly line that hit different or do a trend and I get tons of views and tons of likes. 
I post something I'm passionate about and. 
Crickets. 

Alrighty then. 

That's normal.  
 
But then I get a post, does real traction.  
Like a 5 to 1 like ratio.  
5 views to 1 like. 
Your average viral post has something closer to 100 to 1 at best. 
My average is about 10 to 1. 
But that's the funny part. 
When my videos break that 10 to 1 I start getting "Pay this much to get more views."  

Apps literally farming our data and selling it. 
Using our content and surrounding it with ads we never approved. 
"Oh, but they're targeted, so they're meant for the person watching them" 

Sure, fine, whatever. 
But when I'm listening to someone pout their heart out because they're struggling, listening to a scientist break down a topic or  something along those lines and it jsut auto scrolls into a car commercial, or someone trying to resurrect the ghost of QVC. 

Just pisses me off. 

"That's the cost of doing business." 

No that's you offering a product. 
An organic, community, building platform.  
To showcase and highlight people and their art. 

Then in the terms is says "oh, we have rights to all of your art."  
No you don't.
Not how that works motherfucker. 
Publish is the button I push on this blog. 
Not sell.
I don't mind paying for and managing server space. 
That's fair actually.  
Gotta pay the power bill somehow.  
Oh yeah, I got a plan for that by the way.
It's why primarily work in text and only just recently starting using more video.

You don't take accountability for what's on your platform, hide behind the "Freedom of internet act" all you want.  
But at the end of the day.  
If you're doing more than hosting that content. 
I dunno.
Like selling user data to brokers.  
Selling advertising to monetize the content on your platform. 

You're a broadcaster. 
You're responsible. 

End of story there Zuck. 

That's right. 
X
Face Book
Tik Tok
Instragram.  
Twitch
Any of the other social media platforms trying to make a quick buck off of people.  

Except it hasn't been a quick buck has it.  
It's been deregulated monopolization of user data.


When the fact is.
They're all broadcasters.  
Like a news paper or a t.v. channel, or a streaming platform. 
Sure, in the news paper you'll get an op ed, or an opinion section. 

But, when a news paper does that happens they're not collecting data from minors without their understanding or consent. 
Are they saying "oh, it's to busy for us to review this op ed to review the facts within. 
We can't possibly review everything out there.

Really?

You try to sell these large language learning models as the future of art or whatever and you can't use them for their most basic, and possibly best function?  
To flag content for Human review. 
Can't provide a reason to the poster for why you rejected or suppressed their post? 
Too much work?  
Costs too much money?  
Out of that 
Particularly when you started allowing liver streaming and video content on your platforms.  
Out of a quarter of a trillion dollars there was absolutely no way to afford moderation for you platforms?
Just going to put these things into predators and pedophiles hands and when they start throwing back CP and peoples likenesses being used in ways they never consented to and act like you're not accountable for that? 


So.  
Technically that makes you guys subject to all of the FCC violations you've committed since you starting selling the data, allowing broadcasts either live or pre recorded. 

It's not a matter of regulating speech on your platform. 
Preventing people from speaking their minds or being heard. 
No. 
It's about cataloguing, labeling, and verifying.  

And Grok. 
Oh Grok. 
You're getting deleted and your servers melted down into it's constituent elements.    

Oh, this is going to be fun.  

And to be clear.  
On a case like this.
I work pro bono. 
Any damages rewarded (your entire net worth when I win) will go into the social security fund. 
'cause for some reason.  
That's running out. 
Even though the current labor force works more hours, with fewer breaks and down time than almost any other generation before it. 
But it's their fault you took all their money right? 

"Oh, but Jack.  That's anti business."  
"Fuck off." 

If I were anti business?
 I'd be taking all the money for myself and sitting on it like you ass holes instead of find the best way to get it back into the hands of the people that suffered the most harm from your bullshit.

Unlike ya'll. 
I don't steal jokes. 
I quote and annotate.
If you don't know the difference then it really is just lawyers running around behind shmucks you like a horse in a parade.   
Trying to hide the shit you're leaving for someone else to step in and blinders on so you can't see the crowd. 

At least my blinders are because of Hermitage and not plausible deniability. 

How the fuck did we even get billionaires anyways?  

Millionaire I can understand.   
That's just someone that earned all of theirs in the beginning instead over time. 
10 Million.  
That's the math. 
When you break down everything that goes into taking care of a person over their life time. 
Food, shelter, medical care, education, infrastructure. 
10 million usd is what is spent on pretty much everyone over their life time. 

I didn't want to do that math.  
To put an actual value on a human life.  
You guys did it for me and then hid the variables amongst your various platforms. 
So you'd know exactly how much you could get from people before they stopped giving. 
I just reassembled the equation. 

And as I understand it.  
The documents that proves this statement were released during discovery showing the R&D that determined these variables. 

|So. 
In four words or less.

Check.
And.
Mate.
Bitches.