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The Disillusioned Earthbound Human: A Tragedy  (Part V: Lilith in the cornfield)

A quick review before continuing. Earthbound Human, one day out of the blue, finds himself on a floating rock, which he calls Earth…

No. Hold on. Let’s try that again, this time being painfully honest.

Earthbound Human is a stumbling incoherent, grunting, knuckle scraping, mindless creature on a floating rock, scrounging to feed himself, sometimes avoiding, sometimes not, a multitude of other predatory creatures looking to feed on him.

It’s inconsequential as to how EBH came to be on the rock.

That’s better. For in short, on his waking, EBH had to immediately launch into all out survival mode, just like every other creature on the rock. Everything was in the food chain then, just like everything is in the food chain now.

Fast forward millions upon millions of never ceasing rotations of his rock on it’s axis, coupled with it’s never ceasing orbit around it’s glaring Sun.

EBH will come to refer to this constant twrilling in circles as the passage of “time.” The primary measurement of his time based on the appearance, rising, and disappearance, setting, of said Sun.

As I explained, EBH was creative and imaginative. The truth is EBH didn’t have a clue he was rotating at all; he only knew the bright thing glowing above him was there, then it wasn’t.

But, you and I understand there is actually no such thing as time; you and I know there is only the perpetual, methodic spinning of the Earth on it’s axis, and it’s equally methodic, perpetual orbital trek around the Sun.

What EBH will come to refer to as his “past” and his “future” are but illusions; his time concept, his seconds, minutes, hours, his day, month, and year but clever little creations based on repetitive observations of astrological events, events which could drastically change, even cease at anytime.

The black void? The other “rocks?” The possibility of other life forms? All beyond EHB’s comprehension for reasons yet to be discussed. But please note, Caveman EBH produced art depicting what could be construed as alien images, and odd shaped objects, perhaps some kind of craft, but more on that later.

For in reality, EBH exists only in the here and now, the present, the moment; the twirling of his rock has absolutely nothing to do with his existence, and that applies to every living creature, great and small.

As for the infamous “beginning of time,” and the even more dramatic “end of days,” just more fantastical creative writing to nip at the mass’s fear and fascination with the unknown, and toy with his sense of guilt.

What creative writers rarely explain to their readership is, in the end, it’s the raw natural process of decay that will prevail, not fabricated fiction of gods and heavens .

Despite the truth staring EBH square in the face, he either simply could not grasp it, or he simply chose to ignore it.

Despite his observing the birth of EBH offspring, and observing the death of those same offspring at some point during their life on the rock, some as soon as one twirl, others hundreds of twrils, still others more; despite observing that alone, EBH could not make the vital connection.

Everything living on the rock, whether that life pertained to sea creatures, creatures which took flight, the forest dwellers, the burrower, the tree climber, even two legged walkers, all were “born” to die, which is to say, cease to exist. Yet, matter never truly ceases to exist.

The number of spins around the Sun an EBH would enjoy was anybody’s guess then, is anybody’s guess now. And absolutely nothing leaves the rock. Nothing. Everything that has walked and talked, flowered or bore fruit, swam or flew, is still on the rock in one form or another today.

As for the infamous “beginning of time,” and the even more dramatic “end of days,” just more fantastical creative writing to nip at the mass’s fear and fascination with the unknown, and fodder to toy with EBH’s intense sense of guilt.

And so it happened that EBH, assumably, up to this point, the brightest of all Earthbound creatures, considering his “guiding” conscious, having somehow, someway, perhaps by timely activation of embedded, encoded knowledge, possibly through careful calculated and measured trials and errors, maybe by sheer dumb luck, whichever allowed him to advance physically, emotionally, cognitively, consciously to a level of fledgling intelligence, allowed him to develop communicative and social skills that further allowed him to positively engage with other EBHs, despite all that, so it happened, he totally screws up.

Considering all the positives, for there were certainly plenty of negatives, one would think the story of the EBH would enjoy a fairytale ending, right?

Uh, no.

For instead of simply reaping the plentiful harvest offered by his rock, EBH opts to forgo everything he knows to be good, everything he has come to know as progress, to abandon a prosperous, emerging co-existence with his global EBH brothers and sisters, and take his tribe down a new path, a dark path, a path he will instead pave with the blood of those same brothers and sisters.

He even chooses to deny female EBH. Wait. Did I say deny? I meant, he opens up a super-sized can of raw humiliation, degradation, exploitation, subjugation, and if that wasn’t enough, subjects her, and her daughters, to the most horrendous, despicable, unconscionable physical torture and deaths his demented imagination could invent.

Let’s be sure we’re clear. This is the woman who struggled side by side with him. Who helped not only establish, but lead and advance the community. The very source of lineage and heritage. His mother. The mother of his children. Turning against her alone would cost him dearly.

So, what drives EBH to lose it? To simply chuck it all away? Let’s find out.

Let us never forget, EBH thrived on creativity and imagination, his driving processes, his universal strengths (and follies). But with the commissioning of the creation of his genesis, EBH opens the door to his own undoing.

You see, the creative writers EBH commissions, the players, the manipulators of words, were also the conivers of profit and influence.

Yes, creative writers are some of the baddest EBHs around.

Let’s face it, there were not that many truly gifted creative writers back then, and when the gig is to create the genesis of all EBHs? In essence, to create the entire universe? Come on. This was the gig of gigs! And as it’s turned out, the result is known to many today as the greatest fictional story ever produced. The rock’s all time best seller.

For these writers knew well, there was nothing more powerful than the well written word, especially when the recipients of those words were ignorant and illiterate and highly impressionable (gullible?).

Other opportunistic, calculating, scheming personalities, the earliest scum of the Earth, hovered, watching, waiting for the right moment to seize their nitch allowed by ensuing social chaos.

Having said that, allow me to clear something up. I am using the term genesis in the sense of origination. I understand, considering all the literary works pertaining to organized religions, a few doctrinal collections may include a chapter entitled Genesis, but I am not referencing to that chapter. I am merely referring to the origination of EBH, an event, to this day, still very much a mystery.

And now for the curse the lowly creative writer must deal with; and now, let’s consider the Book of Genesis. For the first known draft of this book, fantastic as I’m sure it was, is (allegedly) forever lost. It’s author(s)? Unknown. The date drafted? Not a clue. Royalties to this guy? Nada. Nil. Not a dime.

You see, literary work, all literary work, I don’t care who is producing it for what reason, all literary work undergoes a process known as revising and editing. If the originator does not maintain control of the piece through this process, well, it’s the old snooze you loose thing, especially if the work turns out to be a hit.

The books included in the collection of books known as The Bible, are some of the most read books ever printed, but the original writers, their heirs, are not making a dime from the popular works. I’ll tell who is though, just keep reading.

I stated it was crucial for a writer to protect his work, typically referred to as academic, or intellectual property; today, a writer has copyright laws to help him protect his drafts. But, the laws can get tricky. For example, if I were producing this work on an employer’s computer, the millions of dollars I stand to make on sales could be awarded to that employer, considering it was produced on company equipment.

Consider the following.

Christianity is just one of the untold number of organized religions in existence across the rock today; and, it is further divided into a myriad of denominations, congregations, fellowships, cults, sects, covens, etcetera. One such denomination are the Baptist, which claim an impressive membership.

The Baptist prefer the King James Bible as their literary doctrinal work. This version of the bible was commissioned by King James I of England in 1611, ergo his name adorning the title. Again, questionable authorship, questionable overlapping timelines, has undergone an untold number of revisions by an unknown number of writers. Yet, this literary work is still published and sold globally, as the irrefutable, undeniable, under the threat of heresy, the word of the Christian deity, God.

Now, The King James Bible is one of the most popular versions in print, undeniably. Five major denominations adopt it as their official bible. But, recently, a hand written copy of The King James Bible was found archived in the Cambridge University library. Mislabeled as a commentary, the hand scribed treasure had gone undetected for who knows how long. The researcher that made the find, American scholar Jeffrey Alan Miller, on inspecting the text, acknowledge the work, not as a commentary at all, rather as an actual revision of the scripture in progress.

The revisionist accomplishing the work, a well known King James translator, Samuel Ward, was in fact utilizing all the cutting and reorganizing techniques for accomplishing revising and editing.

There was no evidence, however, Miller further comments, of “divine” intervention; so, if this was in fact the irrefutable written word of God, then God was a disciplined revisionist.

I don’t add this anecdote to discount the existence of any deity, in any form, rather only to stress the point that EBH had grasped the concept of fiction imitating life, and took that concept to a whole new level. For if the word of God is indeed perfect, never to be challenged, under the threat of heresy, no EBH should have ever revised or edited a single word, much less an entire book.

Irrefutably, the altering of one line corrupted the work, invalidating it.

The revising and editing, the marketing, the collection of one penny for the words make it trash, and believe me billions have been made by enterprising EBH selling God’s Word. But not to worry. The Truth is still available, in a pure untainted version. 

Perhaps, The book of Genesis can help us understand better this need to have holy scripture read a certain way, at least for EBH.

The drafter(s) of Genesis, the opening book of The Bible, while unknown, is/are credited with producing one of the most impactful works of fiction ever written. Yet, almost immediately the masterpiece went into revision.

It seems the writer penned in a beautiful Lilith as the first woman created by God, and, we’re told, to act as the garden mate for the first man created, Adam.

Apparently, there were some major issues with how the character Lilith was written in, and how she was “created.”

First, Lilith was created from the Earth, making her an equal to Adam. Next, she was written as a rebellious, non-conformist, staunchly independent woman, who was not about to play second fiddle to no man, first, second, or last created; and then, there was also a little something about her wanting to be on top. (This writer was good! )

Lilith even had the audacity to argue with and refuse the commands of not one, but three Angels sent by God to deal with her “attitude.” Well, apparently, this was intolerable to those who commissioned the work, because man was superior, not woman. 

Sadly, feisty Lilith, probably in the first revision, probably the target of the first revision, was quickly wished into the cornfield, replaced by a more compliant, more submissive Eve.

However the original of any deity/doctrinal focused book read, the seemingly constant revisions, each embellishing, characters, personalities, and situations more and more, offer today’s reader versions that encompass just about every conceivable, however implausible, anti-physics, anti-matter, anti-logic scenarios ever concocted and offered in print.

The expression delusion of grandeur is an understatement in this case, for EBH successfully, however incredibly, elevated himself from grunting, bumbling, murderous, adulterous fool to worthy of experiencing a personal linking, a communique, a face to face interaction with his Grand Creator; check that, the Creator of absolutely everything living and not living, the rock itself, all surrounding rocks, the Sun that lit up his day, and the Moon that illuminated the night.

Just as every tribe concocted their own physical representation of a deity, be it a ram’s head, a half man half falcon, a calf, a tree, so they created their own mind boggling stories of their deities earthly manifestations and messages. Suffice it to be said that each of those stories are equally entertaining, imaginative, and all seem to satisfy the emotional needs of that particular tribe (or not), so we need not cover them in detail here.

Suffice it also to be said, each deity, in and of themselves, offered the faithful individual EBH believer a sense of purpose and internal, if not eternal, security and safety.

What does matter, what are of grave concerns are the self-proclaimed Shaman, which kind of rhymes with Con-man, who saw opportunity to corrupt the faith of the believer, and in the process, make a few bucks.

For with his growing sophistication and silver tongue glib, ever improving persuasive writing skills, a powerful, very powerful new deity to exploit, and lots of hair tonic, EBH now realized a new strength, the power of control and subjugation of the weak conscious masses. Through his growing cleverness, EBH quickly learned to use those inspiring, emotional, deeply moving, heart wrenching, highly entertaining and engaging “religious doctrines” to initiate the grandest ruse ever perpetrated against his fellow EBH.

For, EBH was still not content with all he had acquired or enjoyed; no, not content at all.

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The Disillusioned Earthbound Human: A Tragedy  (Part IV: I am that I am)

Last we heard, EBH conceded that he was bound to the surface of a rock; a rock floating, spinning, orbiting a brilliant, life sustaining Sun.  He further conceded his rock was not the only one of its kind,  for every night, he could gaze upon an endless void, speckled with other rocks just like his.

EBH also accepted that this rock offered just about everything he could conceivably need or want to survive. Veggies, of every variety and texture, sweet fruits dangling from trees, bundled on vines, red meats to simmer, roast, or dry, tender pork and succulent feathered birds, many laying protein rich eggs. And that was only on the ground.

The vast oceans and wide, flowing rivers were teaming with finned fish of countless variations, beds of bivalve molluscs, shellfish, octopus, squid, all nourishing, strengthening.

In addition, his rock provided all the clean fresh water he could drink, all the lumber needed for his shelters, the thatch for his roofs.

The female EBH had proven herself an intellectual equal, confidently and skillfully assuming critical leadership roles, establishing herself as a strong business proprietor, as well as being the ideal, graceful social companion.

The female had in fact, in many instances, presented as more aggressive and forward, in many aspects of life, than her male counterpart, including, but certainly not limited to the sexual realm.

As the bearer of EBH children, as the mother of the species, she was  honored for her fertility, and more importantly, as the true and only source of lineage, of heritage.

Together, the female and male EBH would carry the responsibility to nurture and educate the children, whether biologically theirs or not, as a team, properly preparing each child to succeed them as hard working, conscientious, productive and responsible members of the tribe.

EBH was in communication with other tribes, near and far, trading goods, sharing ideas, sharing discoveries and new, time saving techniques. He was engaging in cooperative projects, like irrigation systems and road construction, so that the lives of all EBHs could improve.

The surface of his rock, his landscape was changing. Small tribal villages were growing, and more importantly, prospering.

Life on the rock was good. But still, at the end of the day, when the sky went black, when those other rocks lit up the endless void, the nagging question filled his mind.

But now, with his impressive list of accomplishments, with his ever developing communicative skills, with emerging sophistication, he had to put the question to rest. School children were asking, and academics were pressing: How could there not be an answer? How could he still not know the answer?

And so, once again, as if somehow all linked by some subconscious encoded bond on a timer of sorts, EBH answered the question once and for all.

But, before we learn how EBH arrives at his answer, let’s go back to the EBH conscience for a second; that mysterious conscious that is as unique as finger prints; no two the same. That  magical mystical conscious nobody knows squat about, and nobody ever will.

About the only verifiable aspect regarding this phenomenal human attribute comes not from psychiatrist or psychologist and their infamous couches, rather obstetricians in joint studies with neonatal neurologists.

Sighting multiple cases, these specialist in the yet to be born confidently state that a developing fetus within the woumb is processing external data.

Considering this, it must be acknowledged, the conscious, which identifies each and every EBH as a thinking, feeling, living human being is active and absorbing stimulation, knowledge, possibly from conception. 

All acknowledge that a fetus develops off the genetic coding provided from the female and the male parents; but when speaking of the EBH conscious, of course, we’re speaking of the activation of the human senses, the birth, if you will, of the human personality.

Even today, EBHs remain ignorant regarding so many, critical aspects of themselves. This is not for not wanting, or not needing that knowledge, rather due to horrendously inadequate, fact limited, truth limited, mythological favoring educational systems; the great purveyors of misinformation. 

Consider, our children are typically taught they possess five basic senses: sight, hearing, touch, taste, and smell. But studies have long concluded that count is actually as many as twenty-one distinct senses.

One example is our sense of touch. Well, as I’m sure we’ll all agree, “touch” is a fairly broad term.

The sense of touch can be further said to include the perception, the sense of pressure, such as with a grasping arm, the perception of heat, which can range from mild to extreme, and the perception of pain, typically measured in a scale of 0 to 10; 1 being, “Eh,” 10 being, “OMG! Kill me now!”

Likewise, your conscience, through other senses, continually monitors your body’s physiological needs, like a sophisticated home monitoring system. That’s your conscience telling you you are hungry, not your stomach. 

Collectively, these are known as interoceptive senses, controlling everything anatomical and physiological within the EBH body without his intervention.

Many, if not most EBH senses, are inherent, embedded, encoded into the EBH subconscious through the neonatal, fetal developmental stages. Its very conceivable some could carry from pre-Earthbound existence.

So my point is, what if EBH’s conscious somehow, someway, at some point possessed data pertaining to who, what, when this form of existence began?

What if rag tag remnants of that information lingered still deep within the EBH conscious?

What if obscure “flashbacks,” scrambled and distorted that they may be, corrupted and infected, reduced to indecipherable gibberish, surface from time to time, recording as unreliable data, ignored as such by most EBHs, catching the curiosity and imagination of others

In that early EBH’s subconscious mind was actually in control of much of what he believed he was controlling perhaps explains his greatest folly ever.

Now, I know what you’re thinking, only because it’s the only conscious thing to think; you believe all this subconscious stuff is sheer nonsense. But, before you go back to your precious funny cat videos,  consider, if you will, your own government, and just about every other government out there. For all are highly invested in breaking “the code” that protects your magical, mystical ephemeral phenomena that is your highly personal, stream of consciousness.

Back? Good. Because the undeniable fact is, whomever breaks that barrier first, wins the big game, and by that I mean the ability to gain control of every EBH mind, from the point of conception. 

Consider today, with only very limited, superficial knowledge, advertisers know how to get you to buy their line of clothing; game developers know how to distract you for hours, days. They simply bombard you with images of positive, enjoyable, pleasing scenes and associate those images with their products. 

Organizations of every description,  especially highly sophisticated ones, like financial institutions and religious organizations thrive through appealing to the EBH sense of safety and security. The hook? Join them, apply for membership, pay the nominal fee, and feel safe and secure for all eternity.

Of course, financial institutions have their monthly fees, service charges, and a myriad of penalties. Religious organizations typically do not have application fees, but do expect substantial monthly tithes and offerings, many as much as 10% of cash holdings.

Some of the more radical religious organizations require much more from members including material holdings and strict adherence to very specific institutional doctrines. Violations of these binding doctrines, some as menial as eating forbidden foods, or becoming involved, romantically or otherwise, with non-organization members, outsiders, would mean excommunication, ejection, from the organization.

This level of restriction, loss of personal freedoms, such as being forbidden to seek medical care in the case of illness or injury, can, and have, resulted in the death of members.

In the case of religious extremists fundamentalists organizations, the doctrines demand yet more. Commitment may entail total emergence into a society that will require total personal sacrifice, demanding, not only violent acts against others, but demanding the death of anyone who does not share, and/or accept, respect their religious doctrines.

All religious organizations, for reasons we’ll delve into soon, rely heavily on engaging their members emotionally, deceiving them through false, fictional doctrines, and enslaving, entraping members through intimidating tactics known to build strong co-dependent ties, that is to say, the target EBH comes to depend on, to need the organization.

These psychological operations, tactics are highly effective against the ignorant EBH produced by a religion influenced educational system.

And so it was, the EBH conscious was effectively distracted, diverted from the task of building on commonality, global cooperation and unity, and ensuring social stability.

It was one thing to create a tribal deity to unite the citizens around; it was one thing to build temples for that deity, to erect embrazened images, typically fashioned after some prominent EBH for comfort and acceptance.

It was one thing to invite all citizens to join the congregation, and lovingly welcome those who wished to participate at their own chosen level, considering, of course, while similar in general appearance, each EBH possessed an independent, free spirited conscious, coded and programmed to support individuality.

It was one thing to believe one tribal deity was supreme, above all others, the creator of all things Earthbound, the creator of the mysterious universe itself, never to be denied, never to be disrespected, never to be the subject of blasphemy. It was important, after all, that EBH know that he was not of unknown origin; he needed to know he had at least a father, a creator, somewhere in that vast void of darkness and mystery.

EBH’s creation of his deities were useful to some extent. The tribal citizenry did, for the most part, unify around their designated god, and in many cases, family of gods, whether that god was in the form of a familiar images, such as himself, which was, more often than not, the case, or the form of something sustaining, such as a calf, or the Sun, or a tree.

Still others opted to adopt more universal gods. These were typically all powerful, omniscient unseen gods that were always present, always watching, observing his every move, aware of every thought. These were gods that not only gave life, but could take it away. Gods that could richly reward, or harshly punish.

These Gods could offer eternal salvation in an utopian heaven, a place among the star’s above, or condemn the disbelieving, disobedient EBH to eternal suffering in the very pits of hell, a fiery, torturous place in the belly of his rock.

Yes. EBH had finally answered that plaguing, nagging, question. He now knew his origin, no matter how fictional that origin was, and just as important, he now knew his final destiny.

But, EBH was not content; no, not content at all. 

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The Disillusioned Earthbound Human: A Tragedy  (Part III, “Rooaarrr!)

Fact: A species, humanoid or otherwise, will not persist without the reproduction, nurturing, the educating and indoctrinating of new generations in properly protecting, sustaining, advancing their given culture.

In every EBH tribe, there existed two genders. A male gender and a female gender. And through copulation of the male and female (yes,I must be specific here), a child EBH was conceived and delivered into life on the rock.

Now, female and male EBH, while different in general appearance, that is to say, the female was fairer than the male, with genitalia and a reproductive system specific to permit child conception and delivery, otherwise stood toe to toe, side by side, not only in conducting day to day labor, of any category, but also in protecting home and community.

Male and female EBH worked and played, struggled and accomplished, supported and encouraged one another through whatever came, not just in commitments as a domestic couple, but as equal members of a community, large or small.

These two distinct and independent EBHs had woke up together on this rock, and they would survive together on it. This fact just seemed to be an inherent understanding. It seemed once again whomever, whatever deposited this curious species onto their tiny rock, had considered every aspect of survivability; this had not been a random act, or some bizarre evolutionary process.

At one point the female EBH was held in an iconic position, with tribes commissioning statues in her honor. These flattering, towering bare breasted images attested to her undeniable standing in communities.

In some cultures, she was not restricted even in sexual activity.

The Etruscan woman, of a pre-Roman sophisticated Italian culture, for example, could participate in, engage in casual sexual trysts with whomever she pleased. Because these women prided themselves in physical fitness and impeccable appearance, they considered being seen nude by others, especially men, as a compliment, not as an embarrassment or disgrace. 

The Etruscans are one of the first societies to flaunt open marriages. Wife sharing was a custom to them. They not only accepted many, many men onto their couches, the women raised any child that resulted out of their encounters, whether they could identify the biological father or not.

This custom would later come to be criticise even by the following Egyptian and Roman sex mongrels.

Other cultures would simply bestow the title of goddess upon their women, and commission a stone carver to produce an image worthy of her.

One of the most notable finds to date is a statuette of a possible goddess of fertility that dates back nine thousand years.

The find was in an ancient Turkish settlement called Çatalhöyük. The settlement is believed to have existed for longer than a millennium.

So, the question arises, was honoring the female, permitting her such privileges, extraordinary freedom, something the EBH came up with on their own, or was this behavior more subconscious encoding surfacing?

It was undeniable, the EBH female was an integral element in developing EBH society; and, in many instances her adoration shadowed that of the brute  male.

In addition to, and in conjunction with her fertility status, as the child bearer, she was regarded as the true and only source of lineage.

Had she enjoyed that level of stature prior to finding herself Earthbound?

Within the tribes, she acquired education, held public office at all levels, served as a jurist, was a successful proprietor of business, and a land owner.

If her domestic relationship with her male partner dissolved, she was entitled to, and received her fair share of the couple’s joint holdings.

Because of this recognition, this acknowledgment and acceptance of gender equality, societies, tribes, alliances flourished in productivity, growth, and stature.

Global EBH was functioning at a one hundred percent level; both male and female actively engaged across the board, in every aspect of life. Neither gender was ruling over, undermining, exploiting the other.

All was right on the tiny rock. 

But male EBH was not content. Not at  all content.

 

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The Disillusioned Earthbound Human: A Tragedy  (Part II, “Ugh!)

Our EBH has somehow, someway come to exist on a tiny speck of a rock floating, spinning, orbiting a brilliant fireball, in what seemed like an endless void of a universe. And his questions remained: How? Why? When? And, by who’s hand? By what means?

The EBH does not know, and sadly, will never know. One of those eternal mystery things.

But assuming, just for grins and giggles, EBH was brought to this rock by, oh, let’s say parents, his people, a dying society, for his own good, his own safety, or perhaps, while we’re toying with ideas, perhaps brought here as an exile, to separate him from his culture for whatever reason, dropped into an uncharted, alien, albeit survivable wilderness, to fend for himself.

Whatever the case, either of these two, or any of an endless list of other possibilities, EBH should have quickly gotten over what he didn’t know, and focused on what he did know, what he saw before him: A survivable, real situation.

But that’s not what he did.

Instead, EBH opted to sear, to pout, to essentially  behave as a neglected, abandoned child, throwing tantrums and breaking his toys, in this case, destroying and poisoning his only means of survival; the sustaining resources provided by his rock. 

Maybe EBH remained angry because no note was left by Mommy, promising to return some day. Maybe he was frustrated because no instructions were left as how to best survive on a strange, unfamiliar rock.

More angering and frustrating could have been simply not knowing from where he came, or why he was left.

No map home. No number to phone home. Nothing. 

EBH, simply woke up one day to find himself standing in the warmth of a brightly shinning sun, under trees laden with sweet fruits.

He walked through wild gardens of tasty vegetables growing in abundance.

He waded through clear flowing rivers teaming with nourishing fish, and wondered among  animals of every conceivable kind as they roamed the hills and valleys, edible ones and hard working beasts of burden.

He watched  birds of every description and color as they filled the skies, others as they nested, laying white, brown, and speckled eggs.

I’m sure he looked up as quenching rains poured down from blackened skies, washing all periodically. 

No, EBH didn’t just wake up to find himself alone and in dire straights, he woke up and found himself in paradise.

If he was in fact  “abandoned,” if he was in fact left to fend for himself, for a short period of time, or for all time, whoever, whatever transported, delivered, deposited him onto the surface of this rotating sphere, this speck in a vast void, could not have chosen a more supportive, sustaining rock.

But back to reality, because it was not just a matter of EBH not accepting his awakening in paradise; it was not just a matter of not bringing himself to simply embrace his good fortune. No. EBH harbored a deep seeded, all consuming obsession, compounded with a growing anger and an equally deeply seeded savagery.

EBH was not satisfied with being supported, nurtured, sustained by his rock, prison or not; and, on his Sun vanishing each evening, on the multitude of other rocks illuminating the black canvas that was a collection of universes, EBH only laid back and stared; stared, knowing somewhere among the twinkling space rocks he was looking upon was his true home.

Now, please recall I explained that all EBHs possess a conscious. That inner most self that distinguishes one EBH from all others. 

But, as with his origin, as with his destiny, no EBH, none, not a single psychologist, not one psychiatrist, certainly no self-proclaimed Shaman of any organized religious cult, can claim to have knowledge of the humanoid conscious. Oh, many will claim such knowledge, but, that is their delusion.

The human conscious is as distinct and personal as finger prints. You may get a peek at one, but you’ll never see them all. 

IF any “instructions,” guidance, compelling messages were left by those who delivered the EBH to the surface of his rock, those guiding messages may have been encoded into the EBH sub-conscious; even if nothing more than, “Good luck! You’re on your own!” After all, he was eventually able to climb down a tree and into a skyscraper. But we’re getting ahead of ourselves.  Let’s back up a bit.

I’m using EBH in the singular tense; it must be understood, however, that there were a multitude of EBH tribes scattered throughout the surface of the Earth. 

Genetically speaking, all EBHs are the same; that is to say, all sport two legs, two arms, one head, one brain, etcetera, etcetera.

Some tribes enjoy variations to the basic theme, facial features mostly, height and skin tone others. But all possess the ability to think, create, and imagine. All possess a conscious.

Considering their similarities and differences, each individual tribe considered itself equal in standing with all other tribes, while embracing their own unique cultural differences; in many cases, tribal leaders touted their tribes as superior to others. Bigger, stronger, more powerful. 

Were all tribes linked to the same magical, mystical origin in some way? Were all cast in the image of a single all mighty “creator?” There are many who speculate that is the case, just lack the evidence to prove their suspicions.

What is known is, again perhaps through the activation of encoded processes and embedded instructions, all EBH tribes began to develop socially. While some developed faster than others, all developed in simular ways.

For no man can rule a kingdom (or a tribe) without a clear mandate. 

No king can preserve his legacy, record his glorious conquests, properly proclaim his supremacy throughout the lands without proper, tangible means and methods.

So somehow, someway, by some inherent “knowledge,” each tribe set to accomplish a universal task. 

Utilizing creativity and imagination, each EBH tribe created, tailored specifically to that tribe, variations of the basic “ugh.”

Through shifting inflections, variations in tones, high and low pitch, the universal ugh evolved into complex speech patterns.

Likewise, picking up sharpened stones and flat sandstone, EBH created unique, complex, and often ornamental scribblings; individual scribblings combined in sets came to represent a tribesman name, and official title, a label for a tool or utensil, the name of a river, or a fruit.

And so it came to be, all tribal EBHs not only possessed verbal speech, but written language as well.

While many tribes continually modified and expand their languages and vocabularies, many others still use a very basic, essentially unchanged dialect today.

Surprisingly, even the most simplistic known dialects accomplish what are considered the essential elements of meaningful communication. That is to say, even crude dialects involve a sender, a distinct and clear message, target a specific receiver, allow for/solicit feedback, permit a channel (or medium), consider potential interference and address specific situations.

These early utterances and scribblings permitted a crude, yet functional level of communication, not only within the tribe, but enabled communication with other neighboring tribes in the region.

EBH was connected, and quickly built meaningful circles of friends and formed crucial alliances. 

Within the tribe, these early utterances and scribblings were important in EBH establishing some semblance of social organization (not always effective), and law and order, (not always accepted, nor abided by all tribal members); and more importantly, he was now able to commission an official scribe to record all of his accomplishments for all time.

History was enabled, but as it is today, recorded history was not always factual. As it is today, recorded “history” is selective in content, embellished, and very slanted to favor the EBH being honored.

Also, while these fledgling communication tools were not interchangeable from one tribe to another, their simplicity and repetitive characteristics allowed one EBH tribe to adequately learn another tribe’s “language” without too much difficulty.

And so it was, EBH could effectively, and meaningfully dialogue with EBH and thus enabled a myriad of social interactions such as trading of goods, sharing of ideas, establishment of cooperatives that would allow public works projects mutually benefiting multiple tribes.

All was well and good. But the EBH was not content. Not at all content.

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The Disillusioned Earthbound Human: A Tragedy  (Part I, In the beginning…)

This is the first in what I hope is a mind tingling series extracted from, and intended  as a Prelude to a greater work to be published later this year.

It could be crudely aligned with classic Shakespearean tragedies, that is to say no one survives, there are no true heroes, the women are degraded and exploited, lies and deception are at every turn, with greed and self-glorification being the very foundation of the tale. But the sad truth is, this is not a fictional tale at all. 

This is an actual tragedy being played out in real time, day in and day out. Ongoing. Non-stop. Undeniable by anyone. Inescapable by no one. 

It is the actual tragedy of what has evolved as the pathetic, hapless human man, from here forth referred to as the Earthbound Human (EBH).

The EBH would not be hapless at all were it not for one driving, all consuming issue. He is plagued by an obsession; an obsession, I suspect, driven more out of fear than curiosity.

Yes, fear. For whatever the EBH may feel, whatever he may claim to be, he is consumed by unshakeable, bone chilling fear.

This gripping fear, you see, is what drives the EBH in his obsession with his origin and, therefore, his true purpose.

So driven is he about learning where he came from, why he is here, on this floating space rock, who placed him on this rock, his mind conjures up, fabricates, even  causes delusional scenarios of his coming to be Earthbound. 

In reality, the origin of this tiny, fragile man, even the origin of his tiny floating rock, which he has cleverly dubbed Earth, is inconsequential to his existence at all. 

For the facts, the truths, the sequence of events, the interventions of whoever, whatever, which led to, not only his, but all creatures coming to co-exist on this Earth, whether it involved a magical, mystical  glorious creator of all things great and small, whether it involved a life form creating celestial big bang, whether it involved  the biological evolution of a single celled organism that first threaded water, then walked ashore, or whether it involved a miniacal space traveller named Scotty, knowledgeable in transporter technology, that information has never been, is not now, nor will ever be accessible/available to the simpleton, the undisciplined, the reckless and irresponsible EBH.

 A quick reflection on this creature, this Earthbound humanoid curiosity. 

He is but one of many, many interesting creatures, lifeforms calling this floating space rock home. And while it is generally acknowledged that he possesses the ability to reason, it is also generally accepted that he tends to grossly misuse that skill. 

Also, while he is only one of an unknown number of species that benefits from the ability to “think,” he favors an affinity towards using creativity and imagination, both surreal and illogical processes, almost to a fault.

Not much else is known about his existence at all, other than he may or may not be the only Earthbound creature who possesses an independent, personalized, individualized conscious, what he has come to call a soul.

Important note, the EBH fancies himself as the sole reigning, master of his floating rock, but  only because no other humanoid lifeform(s) has/have presented to prove him hopelessly wrong, or challenge his declaration of supremacy (to date, that is).

This is interesting because the EBH is one of the most physically, emotionally, biologically, and chemically sensitive, and therefore fragile, creatures on his rock. Millions upon millions of EBHs terminate annually due to physical trauma, a myriad of diseases and physiological disorders, and sheer self-destruction through a myriad of ingenious methods including ingestion, injection, and inhalation of life ending substances. Millions upon millions more are not terminated, but permanently disabled, rendered useless to society. 

But the most fascinating and prevalent method of terminating millions of EBHs is with high velocity muskets. These pop guns project a metal ball that tears through human flesh like it was paper, splintering bones, and damaging major, life sustaining internal organs.

EBH on EBH violence.

And so, it’s with this brief introduction that I hope to offer you a thought provoking break from drinking establishments, iron man work out sessions, funny cat videos. I trust, as loyal and dedicated “friends,” colleagues, family, that you’ll not only read, but share my words with your connections and circles. Remember, we all enjoy different tastes;  what may not be your cup of tea, just may be honey to another. Each new posting will offer an aggressive prospective of this suffering, disillusioned, misguided creature. Please stay with me.

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