Jail The Babies

Christianity tells us that “all have sinned and come short of the Glory of God”.  This is the entire basis of a concept known as “original sin”.  The story is that Adam and Eve gave up their innocence in the Garden of Eden.  As a result, every person born is born with an innate flaw. In other words, people are born criminals.

Babies are selfish, contribute nothing, and operate as leeches on society.  They have no knowledge of good and evil.  They have no redeeming value.  It takes many years until children even become remotely useful to society – it may take 20+ years these days before a baby becomes a useful part of corporate America’s agenda.

This leads me to the policy solution that will solve many problems.  You may guess from the title of this post that my solution is this – jail the babies.  This is a simple way of saying that all children, from birth, must be put aside in well-designed institutions and taught how to become productive to society.

Parents cannot do this due to rampant poverty and sub-par societal structures.  Schools have failed.  Even the idea of ‘home-schooling’ is insufficient.  Babies simply cannot learn fast enough to be productive in a home environment where they must waste time becoming ‘emotionally bonded’ with their parents and possible siblings and even neighbors.  The inevitable result of this is rebellion, at worse and at best – these babies leave home to go their own way and ‘choose’ an ‘individual path’ for themselves.  Again, a sinful approach that denies the right of our Corporate overlords to decide what is best.

Think of the many ways that the Conservatives and the Liberals would be served from the approach of jailing the babies.  For one, Conservatives could no longer complain about lawlessness or entitlements or welfare queens.  Liberals could not complain that anyone’s rights are being compromised or that there is not enough public education. STEM courses could be taught to children from birth onward.  Our Corporate overlords could choose among the children to groom them for specific positions within their organizations.  Education would be free and parents would no longer need to worry about how they would raise children – both morally and economically.  This would allow them to spend time working harder to advance the corporate American agenda.

My next post will address the logical next step – sterilize America after preserving only the best sperm and eggs and learning how to synthetically replicate human reproductive cells.

On Language

It is 20 years into the 21st Century.  Technology has facilitated the speed of communications at a rate faster than at any time in the history of the world.  Yet, the world is divided. In fact, some people would like to believe the world does not actually exist. These people believe that the world is actually one of a few limited things A) a resource to be exploited B) a series of countries to be conquered C) a set of outsiders to be shunned.  To be sure, the believers in this triad are globalists. They do not see a world. They see the facsimile of a world. They spin a 3-D map and stake their claim to the boundaries. They carve out markets. They seek out ventures. They plan their next vacation.

Language is tricky.  Language always betrays the one who is communicating.  Manipulative language carry with it the seeds of truth.  The lies one creates tell more about oneself that the truth at times.  When people use words such as ‘left’ or ‘right’ to describe others, it means that person has adopted a set of assumption about the world that is mostly fantasy.  Rooted somewhat in a farce, these directional terms are like describing a coin as ‘heads’ or ‘tails’. It’s the same coin.  

People who seek control are you and me.  No one wakes up everyday and says to themselves, “This is the day I give up.”  Even if they may think they have surrendered to something bigger than themselves, they have really simply expanded their own identity to incorporate this larger thing.  They eschew their ‘ego’ and give way to the ‘superego’. Still, trite terms describing exactly the same thing.

The reason for this is that people do not have the capacity to understand complexity beyond a certain threshold.  And so they create systems to portray the complexity in such a way as to perhaps come to understand through enough study.  Some call this heuristics. Some call it math. Some call it science. Some call it religion.

Whatever the words we use, we are describing all of the same things.  Perhaps different aspects of these things, but they are really the same.  Sure, though, one ponders, there is nuance. There is a difference between peace and war.  There is a difference between love and hate. There is a difference between black and white.  There is a difference between male and female. There is a difference between Republican and Democrat.  There is difference between introvert and extrovert. There is a difference between emotion and reason. There is a difference between thoughts and emotion.  

No. There is not.  

I would end it there for dramatic effect and let the world read these words and being the debate over their veracity.  But their truth does not really on belief. Their truth does not rely on the results of careful poring over meaning and earnest review.

Terms are terms.  That is all. They do have meaning.  But they are attributable to malleable undercurrents.  Time does not change these terms. We change these terms in reaction to our own indecision.  Our indecision is rooted in our inability to control the world around us.  

We still seek control.  And so we invent concepts that may assist in benchmarking reality.  Yet those benchmarks are only reference points and have no real correlation to practice.  We are stuck having to think. Each and every time. When faced with problems, none of these terms are useful.  When faced with difficulties, every term we use that mirrors a generality unravels. These threads we are left holding are the same threads we thought we were using to sew together a cloak of comfort.  Control and comfort go hand-in-hand. Yet being numb to reality, does not mean reality is not waiting. It is waiting patiently.  

The world awaits. It is not a two-dimensional map. It is not even a globe, that can be spun with one’s hand. It is a large, fluctuating chaotic vortex. It is a chasm of endless things to be learned. Those who speak and say that they know reveal but one truth – they so obviously do not.

This Blog

I have recently become aware of a disturbing fact. As time progresses words change meanings. Specifically, I have learned that ‘Swatting’ is a thing where morons call in fake threats to the police in the hopes of stirring up trouble for that person or entity. In recent cases, a neo-nazi teen (i.e. ultra-super-triple moron) has been reported to have made these fake threats (see https://www.nbc12.com/2020/01/14/virginia-teen-charged-swatting-ring-linked-neo-nazis/).

This blog, ‘Swatting At Flies’ was born quite simply. And it has zero, nada, zilch to do with this disturbing trend I mention above. Seventeen years ago, I was literally swatting at a fly in my kitchen while simultaneously trying to think of a name for this blog. Boom! I got the fly. I got the name.

Trends be damned. It’s still a fine name for a blog.

Found Surreal Fiction

This was from a Spam message I received in a mostly dormant account that seems to be a mashup of fiction from various sources. The first part of this has been slightly edited for a bit more added panache. I left the latter part entirely intact. Enjoy…

Dormant Account Spamela

Rose, extending her hand. Sandals or buskins–I could not clearly distinguish.

Brownlow, turning to Rose, ‘give me your hand’, he said. And yet he was asleep.

It’s true, I wasn’t at home; but Rosamond told me you hadn’t his transparent complexion flushed suddenly, and he spoke with an aardvark, inasmuch as it was all comprised within the limits of a brown hen so I give yer notice.

This ingenious article itself, without– but he was interrupted.

“That will be a virtual defiance of Mr. Commonness!” he chortled.

This fact lay in the complexion of his prejudices, which, in spite of the ground by its sails.

A well-used minimum suffices for everything. some frightful form slowly reared its head, to drive him mad with gerbil giblets.

I believe devoutly in a natural difference of vocation. It finally became even more violent in her opposition than her husband.

He could not propose to Rosamond that she should return any to cream cheese or to throw some light on the undertow of his inquiry. He was a slave to marmalade; not so with Mr. Bring in your body then,’ said Sikes.

It was in one of these dense violins. For no one can come alone, or with the other person that knows it; and that I wisely regulating his own play by the result of his observations. But the Time Friends he was better known by the sobriquet of ‘The Artful Dodger.’

This was too good an understanding with you, and agreeing with you even when you as we did so, he would claim my success as the result of the contributions, the Board itself filling up any vacancy in its numbers, Left in a ditch, Nance; only think! The ends of his white neckerchief were He took up his note-book, which well-known cane; ‘no, no, sir; I will be good indeed; indeed, indeed I or We of a man dresses as he can.

He whispered, as though tied by the interruption; ‘it’s the O God, save me! by the railway, and still haunted by elephants which, with pensive put me up for a minute; but now I’m stupid again.

The man who robs air, to Will, who was close behind him, and presently handed him the Humphrey finds everybody charming.

But who has handsomer, better children than ours? was not a trick to frighten him, and those were the real hours treading little in a furtive manner, while Dorothea ran down-stairs to greet her After questioning and examining her, Damn you, if you move, I’ll knock your brains out! of the year, may be truly called the dead of night; when the streets Calcutta in less than twenty-four hours. question. like most other mean men, he lacked the ability to conceal his meanness. fanned wheat from before the fan. approaching the chamber, Mr. It was said of him, that Lydgate could do anything he liked, but I must won’t give it to them. mother, while he only put in a good-humored moderating remark here and without stint if the children’s temper wanted a dose, occasions when Dead? ever will,” she ended, merrily. continuation: descending from the top of the post, meanwhile, with He did not in any way exaggerate the He drew them slowly off. he was always as sleek, neat, and cool as the frog he resembled, and Everyone was silent for a minute. I have watched you change almost from death, to I become absent-minded, as you say. Having put some wood on the fire and thrown a shawl over her, she sat alleged against them. all very well to ride on sticks at home and call them ideas

Electronic Ink Blots

A more concrete, narrative-style, down-to-Earth blog is available at www.electronicinkblots.wordpress.com.   This will include slices of life, vignettes, fiction, non-fiction, poetry, artworks, music, movie reviews, and social commentary.

This blog, Swatting at Flies will continue to focus on surreal poetry, experimental fiction, and avant-garde stylings in the form of words that are made up of letters in the English language.

Disclaimer:  the term ‘Swatting at Flies’ is not associated in any way to gamer culture.

This Just Stare

What is this?

Ud tiy hyst sdtabd tgere wutg a bear ub tge aur

like you just din’t care.

And sometimes it works but other times it just doesn’t work.

Well, I don’t know

but I think it is funny

that technology is so dumb.

Frantic Palace

The stasis drops of mildewed kaleidoscopes shimmered in the distance as Bob once again realized he had left his coffee on the kitchen table.

“There are certain underling assignments that I may miss if given a chance at the big leagues,” he mused heading for the company cafe.”

This time, he would finally give a shot of that caramel liquid he had so yearned for so many times.

“If I don’t watch my waist line, nobody will.” He laughed to himself.

But no one was laughing. He had told the joke one too many times.


Rover spots Pinky. 

Tail wags. Treat. Need a treat.

Princess moves feet faster to move to the opposite side of the street. 

Skateboards spook her. 

But she makes it home alive. 

She gets a swizz and curls up for another nap.

A Voice In The Wilderness

In the Abysmal City, there once was a Top Hat Gentleman who could never find a girl to call his own.  Long and hard he looked but the girls he found wanted to be with the girls*. This irked him and so he set forth into the wilderness. What he found there can best be described by turning to page 345 and singing the first and third verses. Stick, though, to the Norwegian translation.

“It’s so much easier to do this when you have characters talk and dialogue and such,” Cathy said. “You have the authority of progress on your side but lack the tasteful nod to tradition that the great writers always find a way to include.”

With that, she snapped her fingers and disappeared in a puff of steam.

“If… ” said Largo. “If… we just stopped for a moment to consider that this man is weighed down by circumstances…”

“Circumstantial circumstances… circumcision… circumference of the cranium… excuses, excuses, excuses. This man is troubled by a tickle in his pickle like Giorgio Smith was before him and any other name you want to make up.”

“Who talks like that?” Amber Mohanton said, looking up from her phone. She reached into her purse to pull out eyeliner, but then realized…

“The reaction. Action. Stasis. Flux. Point. Counterpoint. Plot. Subplot. Character development. Realization. Serendipity. Ironic juxtaposition. Poise. Grit. Anxiety within tranquility. Justification. Denouement. Epilogue. Voila.” John was saying.

“Then you have this – this last strand of mystery that hints at the sequel… you know, if we can get the investors on board. 

“As long as there is plenty of buzz,” John finished.

“What? I’m sorry.”

“You’re lost today. What’s got you so distracted?”