It is that time of year again, when we thank you for all the interactions you have shared with us throughout the last 12 months; and now we ask that you purchase the latest edition of — Best of David Boles, Blogs: Vol. 9 (2018) — to help us continue to protect the good intentions of humanity, and we do that every day, all year, without using any advertising, or making any other asks of you.
In a recent interview, SuperGenius Elon Musk warned the future is coming for us, and we better be prepared to fight A.I. drones, and we will become the machine, and we will be able to “download” other people, and their personalities, and their memories, to become them. Our faces become the death mask upon the artificial life façade. Want to become Abraham Lincoln? Check. Adolf Hitler? Check. Elon Musk? You’re gonna have to write a check!
One vote. One nation. One dream. One spirit. One soul. Except — when, as a person, you’re only worth three-fifths. Who chooses the fraction? Who creates the integral definition of one human life over another based on decimals, point schemes, and not on whole numbers? We like to believe the world is as fair, and as ordered, as our parents promised us it would be. Two arrives after one. The opposite of amber is divinity. The soul of humankind is undisturbed, except by the precepts of intentional evil clinging to the moon to cleave the star. We live in a numeric world, where measurements are predictable, dreams are quantified, and dissolved in commandments, and end games are more than simple crucifixions.
As a two-decades long Vegan, I do my best to eat the right things, live the right way, and participate in the right fights. I am, however, confounded by the anti-GMO reactions of some people who claim to want to live a better, healthier, life. GMO — Genetically Modified Organisms — has been the prime directive of the food chain in America, and the world, for centuries. The anti-GMO-ers remind me of the anti-vaxxers who refuse to recognize the successful results of science, and technology, only because the facts do not support their paranoid worldview.
There was a time, not too long ago, when you could have a career impersonating celebrities. You could make your way, pay your mortgage, live a life — by not being just as talented as those you impersonated, but by being more talented than they — because you had to be at least as good as the star you were impersonating to faithfully match their power! In the 1960’s and 1970’s you would often see impressionists on mainstream, broadcast television. Frank Gorshin — of Riddler Batman fame — was so much more than a comic book character. Gorshin had the ear for sounding like other famous people. Rich Little was another staple entertainer of my childhood — doing impressions of stars of yesterday, who are all now long faded, or dead — but Rich’s talent was so great that he became just as famous as those he sounded alike.
The only problem with Hillary Clinton calling the hardcore Trump believers a “Basket of Deplorables” is that she was too kind, and she didn’t go far enough in her descriptors.
Instead of being insulted by her, or being embarrassed for being called out on the who, and the of what they were, and are, Trump voters took Hillary’s reality check insult, spun it around, and created a “Deplorables” cottage industry that thrives today; along with echoing “Lock Her Up” chants, and “But What About Her E-mails?” t-shirt logo longings.
Hillary should have stopped being kind, and just delivered the unvarnished truth unto us all. Those Trump voters were not “deplorables” — they were just your ordinary, everyday, street Bigot. They were a Bucket of Bigots! No baskets, no deplorables, need apply.
The longer you live, the less you know. I have always had “sensitive ears” — meaning that small sounds really drive me insane. That ear sensitivity can be helpful, though, in a radio career, or during audio production, because I can catch errors, and erroneous sounds, that others around me, miss. However, having “super hearing” is also a curse because you can hear dogs barking from far away, children crying two floors away, and every street sound echoes in your head all day, every day.