The Fiji Water Society

Did you ever watch someone drinking a bottle of Fiji water and think how ridiculous it is have water shipped half way around the world? We live and work frantically for these types of privileges. It's time that we slowed down, worked less, consumed less and enjoyed our lives more.

Modern consumptions habits border on the insane while the earth is being pushed to its limits to sustain this tremendous amount of variety. As consumer oriented middle classes emerge in China and India, are we going to reach a tipping point? Most people see the amount we consume, and the amount we waste and intuitively realize something is wrong. But where to begin? How can we turn around a society that is addicted to buying?

The first and most important thing we must do as a culture is change our relationship to consumer goods. We must make an effort, almost a propaganda movement, against unnecessary consumption. We need to create a new core value for our planet, a new esthetic, based on simplicity and sustainability.

Since at the moment there is no real international governing body, our current national governments must work quickly and efficiently. For example, putting a very high tax on any disposable container would be an interesting place to start. All liquid containers, water, milk, beer, juices, wine etc. should be purchased in our own containers. Everyone would have set of containers at home, with a sterilization system, and those containers would be brought to markets and filled. Imagine how much we would save. By legislating prohibitive taxes on “throw away” containers, and banning plastic bags, we could make very quick advances and at the same time begin the make people conscious of the damage we are doing to our planet and the limited amount of resources we have for ourselves and future generations.

Another excellent place to apply this sort of tax would be on automobiles. A cylinder tax on anything over 4 cylinders, and eventually on anything that is not a hybrid. These types of actions can be taken very quickly and we would see very big benefits for the environment. Now that the Kindle seems to be taking off, there should be a 100% tax on paper versions of all newspapers and magazines, books and printer paper. All of this revenue can be allocated to R&D on new, clean sources of energy as well as cleaning up what has already been damaged.

New cities need to be built based on clean energy, public transportation and walking. The train station needs to once again become a key hub for cities, towns and villages. Model towns should be built, without roads for cars, only bikes and trains for travel. We must move away from the idea that a family of four needs two cars and house. Let’s move to a model where the ideal family of four lives in an apartment, has no car, and has consumption levels an eighth of what they are now.

The cultural aspect is probably the most difficult to change. How do we convince people that less consumption does not mean that we not progressing, on the contrary, less consumption should be considered more sophisticated. We must equate consumption with childish needs, and less consumption with people who are more intelligent and advanced. We need to make a cultural shift. We must equate longevity and durability with quality. We need to buy homes and furniture for several generations. The idea of going to IKEA and buying new furniture every five years must end. Locally produced food must become the norm.

It is time that we regain a rhythm of life, local vegetables and fruits in season. This is not a bad thing; it gives rhythm to life, a time for foods when they are ready, fresh and in season. Clothes that are made locally, and made to last a lifetime. Again, we need to promote this by taxing foods and beverages that are shipped long distances.

We need to make a fundamental shift in how we live and think. We need to live more slowly, more deliberately, and more humanly. It’s no coincidence that our consumer based society is also media obsessed and quite lonely. Lonely people, watching too much television, constantly bombarded with advertising, who, out of despair, eat and buy too much.

We can create cities and towns that focus on social events, live cultural events and sporting venues. We should focus our energy on creating the highest possible quality of life, not on the maximum consumption. Why do Americans work more and get paid less if they are more productive than ever? Americans work harder, produce more wealth, but are up to their necks in debt from so much consumption. It is time that all people, from all countries, realized that we must live for ourselves, to improve the quality of life for the vast majority of people. That means working less, commuting less, consuming less, and living more relaxed and enjoyable lives.

The positive side of the environmental and energy crisis that will soon be upon us is that we can begin to live more peaceful, less frantic lives. We need to go from a motorboat society to a sailboat society. Many surveys have shown that having bigger and better doesn’t make people happier. Once the novelty is over, people are just as happy with less as with more. Let us work less, and spend more time with our families and friends in cafes and bars and cultural events, playing sports, and less time frantically working.

If the cultural shift is made towards more leisure, and less consumption, people will accept it. But the first step towards this is political. A new global political philosophy must take root throughout the world and begin to change the way we live. There are a growing number of people who are thinking globally and avoiding patriotic fervor in favor of a peaceful, sustainable, inclusively prosperous world. The first step is to begin the world party, and that must happen soon.

CLICK HERE to purchase my novel, Cactus Land on Amazon.

Cactus Land - Chapter XVI - Fiction

‘11111’. The number that wouldn’t go away. He had been looking at it since he saw the first newspaper over a shoulder on the train that morning. It was a headline. Almost all the websites he had been looking at that morning carried it on their home pages. Alex stirred his coffee leaning up against the beverage machine. “Hey guys, we are putting in ten each, we are going to buy as much as we can of ‘00000’.” Said one of the programmers.
“I’m in.” Alex passed him the bill, his name added to the list. No one was left out.
“Never happened, in any lottery in the world that there is a record of. That’s what the paper said.” Added Marc tentatively.
“The probability is exactly the same as any other number.” Said another programmer.

“But if tomorrow we win, I’m cashing in my chips and gettin the fuck at out of this place. For sure.” A web designer. A few giggles. Alex laughed. Marc went back to his office. “Hey Alex, want to go down stairs?” He quickly looked around him. “Smoke a firecracker, have a drink?” Alex nodded.
They walked silently towards the bar while smoking. “Have you heard from Carolina?”
“I got the email she sent everybody. Nothing else. Sounds like they are really out in the woods.”
“I would love that. I’d have a big dog, take walks, smoke herb, plant a garden. I’m sick of the city.” Said the programmer.
“I don’t know. I like knowing I can go downstairs and buy cigarettes, or have a drink. I would probably go stir crazy. And what if the girl starts driving you up the wall? I’ll stick to the city.” The programmer nodded unconvinced.

*

Alex navigated through the main city station as he did every afternoon. The same path, the same smells, the same jolts. The old station had been a turn of the century iron structure. A giant metal barn where the tracks came to an end. Now the barn was a tropical greenhouse, with a small frog pond. Benches of elderly people absorbing the warm moist air along with a few drunks and drug addicts looking for shelter. The hustle of a major train station converted into geriatric peace. Palm trees stood where the old locomotives would power their way into the station, slow and cocky after hours crossing the country, the engineers high above the crowds.
Alex stabbed his way toward his track, below the old structure, where the trains now crossed the station stopping only momentarily on their trek across the city before heading out towards Federation capitals. His train was smaller, covering a local grid. 19:18. The 19:21. Home by eight. The grocery store. A prepared meal. A bottle of wine. Fabian’s Journey. He remembered buying it. Matilde. He felt it in his chest as if two large slabs pushed against both sides of his ribs. It all reminded him of her. The train. The station. The rides home. The hope.
The double decker train slowed. The crowd swayed. The pushing. He looked. The faces bored him. He could read their lives, and he wasn’t interested. Two loud beeps and the doors closed.
A sweet face. A romantic novel. She was a vulgar Carolina. Not quite as pretty. The curves a little wrong. The color of the lipstick. She looked up from the book. Their eyes crossed. “Honey, get the children ready. We are having lunch at mum’s.” No, no. They were all too apparent. An interesting one, brown leather pants, a little big. Forties. Severe. Maybe angry. No. A head case for sure.
An older woman next to him. Probably a functionary. Smelled of cigarettes. He longed for home. For quite. For the abyss of alcohol, pills and the game. The voice reminded him of her. The voice was her. He enjoyed the torture of it. An immigrant boy. The hand on the strap of the backpack. He had taken a shower not long ago. Guess he didn’t work. Could be Matilde’s brother. Had that big kind of mouth. He was strong. Tee-shirt from his football team. Number of an historic player. Where was he going? Not too many immigrants in Zephr Hills. He was definitely not going to Zephr Hills. He knew what stop it was from the amount of people getting off. He could sit. 19.45. Thirteen minutes.
There were empty seats now. He could see in the reflection of the glass door between the cars Matilde’s brother. Why don’t they ever sit down? They are different. 19.51. His building in the distance. His window. Small. Serious. A sledge hammer into the center of his back. His nose on fire against the seat in front of him. No breath. Blackness.

*

The smell of gunpowder. A cacophony of cellular phones ringing. Light. Far too much light. Sirens. A face. No expression. Mouth open. An arm. He began to shake. Both hands trembling. The smell. It reminded him of military service, on the firing range. “I’m alive.” He moved both feet. The bubbling of his breath. A leg in brown leather. The pain from his forehead down to his nose. His hand could move. Toward his face, the nose. Something wrong. The breathing. The pain. The functionary. Facing him, mouth open. Eyes wide open. Hair back. Ashen.
A big rubber boot. “Can you move? We will help you down. Can you get up?” Careful. The arm on the ground, he pushed up. On his feet. Something in his eye. He touched. “Careful. Put your arm. Around me.” The plastic of the jacket, the helmet. The big hole, sheered metal. A blanket. Another fireman. Someone motioning for an ambulance. Maybe for him. Yes. The closed space. The strange smells. A hand on his wrist. A door shutting. Movement. A siren. Always a siren.
“Does it hurt to breath?” He nodded. There was no desire to speak. He didn’t know if he could. It felt like something foreign. A skill he had never pondered. He moved is mouth. Something pressing against his arm, gripping the forearm. Now loose. “You will be ok. Just sit tight.” A curve. She held his shoulder. He looked straight up, saw her eyes behind him, she looked like a strange creature. He looked at the door. The siren. Always the siren.

*

He woke touching the different bandages and tubes on him. His eyes danced around the room. A nurse moved close smiling. He wasn’t used to nurses being so friendly. It must have a been a bomb. The backpack. Matilde’s brother. “Am I ok?”
“Nothing serious, some bruises, your eye is ok, inflamed, but ok, a broken nose, and it looks like a few bruised ribs. You were very lucky. A smaller woman, no uniform, and a notepad. That forced smile that always made him nervous.
“Do you know what happened?” He nodded. “It was a terrorist attack. Where you with anyone on the train?” He shook his head. “There were several attacks, all the same. You will be seeing it on the television. Twelve bombs on trains in the capital. All suicide bombers. Be careful watching the TV. Don’t overdue it.”
“I saw who it was, he had a backpack on, shirt, number thirteen. My wallet and phone?”
“They are here. The police will be in later, you can tell them what you saw.” She opened the drawer.
“What time is it?”
“Twelve-thirty.” He lifted his head, than put it back slowly.
“Please, my phone, in the contacts. Mom. Press the call button. Pass it to me.” He was right. She had been worried. Very worried. When was he coming home. Time to leave the city. Soon. He made the necessary calls. They came to give him something to sleep. He wanted to tell them he needed a double dosage. No. He wanted to call Matilde. It was a way to break the ice. She would have to talk to him. He felt ashamed of thinking of it. Check the missed calls. No.
In the dark the smell came back to him. The gunpowder, the blood. The blankets. The faces he watched. They were no longer. The functionary. The smell of cigarette smoke. The open mouth. The ashen face. Just before falling asleep he remembered the ‘11111’.

CLICK HERE to purchase my novel, Cactus Land on Amazon.

Twilight Breakout - Chapter VI - Fiction

I savored the coffee after a full breakfast in a Cuban version of a diner. Spanglish out of the mouths of bottled blondes with large rears and sour faces clad in a cheap replica of a Denny’s uniform. I was on the page before the horoscopes debating whether to skip them while I spread jelly on my last piece of toast. Once on the horoscope page I dodged them, finally reading Aries but not looking at Gemini.
I was afraid of the horoscopes. If it was bad and something went wrong early in the day I would become paranoid, driving badly and generally being a wreck. I had no choice. I was too close to it to leave it.

Gemini (May 22 - June 21)
Health problems could be on the horizon. Watch out at work.
An old flame could reappear, igniting a dormant passion.

I knew I shouldn’t have read it. I paid silently, “Thank you.” being a little too much for the recent immigrant to get out of her frown. The uncontrolled steaming sprawl of Miami overcame me and the car drove itself north. There was only one old flame and she returned, a pleasant and constant memory back after a long respite. She arrived sweet and I felt her in my forehead and in my arms, for a moment I imagined I could think of her forever. The strip malls became palm trees and the highway suddenly lifted up into the sky. I rose with little traffic on the interstate above the squalor towards the high-rises of downtown.
I saw the eyes when I thought of her, the pronounced puffiness under them left a cloud of sadness over what was otherwise a sweet face. She had the arrogance of a beautiful woman, which matured to season the inherent soft ways. The exit was approaching rapidly, less than ten seconds to decide. A quick look right and the car swerved across two lanes to the exit . Once descended to the street I was full of doubt.
I had been interested in many women, interests that could last months and even occupy most of my thoughts, but I knew they had no magic potion to make me happy; it was sex and company and maybe a few laughs. There was a time I believed that a woman could give me bliss, pure, palpable happiness, and this was the woman who was going to give it to me. María Begoña Eguren, Begoña. I hadn’t seen her in over three years and only knew where she worked through a friend. I parked in the building and walked across a large patio, the doors intimidating me into having another coffee in a café next door.
It had begun in high school, my last year. I can still feel the energy, the intensity of the most minor encounter, it never became more, but she grew in me instead of fading. Two summers later I called her out of the blue. We met the next day and there began a summer in which the joy was real. She gave me pleasure, her small firm body was pliable in my hands and the eyes looked straight through me, the sadness only making me kinder.
I finished the coffee and walked through the doors and up an escalator, in front of me leaned a large glass case with the names of the law firms and banks in the building. I could see my reflection and I realized I should go the bathroom to spruce up. The gray was evident above the ears. My father said it was one of the few Irish traits I had inherited from him, apart from the drinking. One day, three years after that summer she looked into my eyes and I knew she was gone, the melancholy which always comforted me was now for me.
The fast elevator raced through the floors of the building pulling at my stomach. I moved my shoe on the clean carpet and could see my reflection distorted between the stainless steel panels of the elevator door. I felt her in my shoulders, waking in the early afternoon, French Chardonnays with smoked salmon on toast for breakfast. All out afternoons, the dusk on the bay, her smell. The door opened. I took three steps and stopped, looked right and saw the alluring receptionist guarding the entrance to the lush firm, the ocean wide and blue behind her. I thought about turning around, but her face carried me to her.
At a wedding she introduced me to her family and I felt as if I had arrived. One of those days when everyone wants to talk to you; all the women want you and the men want to be your friends, so they don’t have to be your enemies. I was twenty- two, a few months away from finishing college, feeling unstoppable.
The receptionist had a sharp face and dark thin arms that fell lightly out of a yellow short-sleeve shirt tight on her small biceps. The short dark hair full of mousse. I looked hard into her eyes, to see if I was on. She held it.
“Could I see Begoña, Begoña Eguren please.” Her short smile comforted my tentative voice, she hit a button and we waited. The beginning of a word from her voice before it was cruelly funneled into a quickly lifted phone.
“Your name, please.” The eyes bigger and stronger now.
“Johnny, Johnny Lynch.” I noted the faint accent as she repeated my name. I braced myself for a bad answer, used to them from receptionists.
“Please sit down, she’ll be out in a moment.” The chair was soft and I wondered how long she would take, no matter. I had called her a few times in the last years, usually after too many drinks, but always pleasantly. Since the look I never tried to be more than her friend and I had succeeded, without her and my pride I would have been finished. They were difficult years, long years fighting with my job, with drinking, fighting the look and not getting anywhere. All important things have to eventually be overcome if they are ever to mean anything and I had been able to overcome almost everything else.
I felt the sweat on my palms and tried to discreetly wipe them on my trousers, the seat was low and I arched my head up to look at a painting, an abstraction that somehow managed to look like something your grandmother would have in her parlor. The years after her now seemed almost ideal, strange and lonely years full of new and peculiar habits; it was a time when I learned to enjoy being alone.
An invisible hand grabbed my head and flung it right, she seemed taller, the eyes more pronounced, a counterpoint to the affectionate smile. A kiss and a hug, her chin then sunk into my shoulder and she pushed her hand into my back.
Protected behind dark glasses we walked along the dock toward a popular nightclub that also served lunch, the movement of her body coming back to me like an old forgotten song. She had all the accouterments of her class, the filthy rich class, and they bounced and hung as only quality does. I felt like I had taken a drop of acid, the bright light above us, the unspoken desire and easiness moving through the silence. Her small hand took mine, the thumb into my palm. “Johnny, you’re getting old.” I laughed hard and well.
The place was little too hip for me, she looked at me from behind a menu with a grin that said, “I know, but it’s where everyone goes.” A large gay waiter arrived. “Can I bring you a cocktail before lunch?” Her dark eyes danced from above the bags, with the caste came vice and she was going to indulge. He quickly returned, a vodka martini for her. I went for a gin and tonic. She watched me look at her lips, red staining the glass.
“Johnny, I’m getting married.” A long, violent, sad and sentimental laugh that we shared for a long time, the waiter arrived only to send us off into another fit, unable to speak. And then a tear from the laughter became something else, only for a moment, disguised in a swift wipe of the eye, a blessed tear that will surely fill my final thoughts. “Where have you been?”
“I called you when I got back from Spain, right, sure, since then I’m working as a salesman. I’ve got a big territory, Florida, the Caribbean, Mexico and they let me do some buying in Spain.”
“We’re getting old, Johnny, I don’t like it.”
“It hit me at twenty-nine, like a two-by-four, for the first time there was no going back. I had to live with what was done. Who is he?”
“A Peruvian banker, very handsome.”
“You look great, congratulations; I hope you have many sons.” The cheeseburger went down in a few deep breaths, more drinks to round off the meal. We returned as we had come, a long empty space, the bright white sea wall beside us. The silence was now weighing. A sidewalk split from the one we were on, leading to the garage. I put my hand on her shoulder. She lifted the glasses putting them into her hair.
“Do you think I’ll be happy Johnny?”
“I hope so.” I wrapped her head in my arm and kissed her forehead.
Someone wrote that our lives seem random while we live them but when we look back with perspective there appears to have been an order and a reason. If this is a story it probably begins here and as I look back on that day it was a beginning, an end, and the beginning of an end.

CLICK HERE to purchase my novel, Cactus Land on Amazon.

The End of the Trip - Chapter XV - Fiction

The four second satellite image of the storm continued on in an endless loop; the voice a repetition of the same three or four things. He passed her the joint and listened to her throat as she exhaled. They woke up, cold and nude, uncomfortable in the single bed, the image continuing, the voice announcing a Hurricane Watch for Dade, Broward and Monroe Counties: the possibility of being under hurricane conditions within forty eight hours. Helen was her name, and she was crossing the Caribbean with 100 MPH winds.

That afternoon there was a nervous energy on campus; a collective awareness of something being out there, something dangerous, almost alive. The more organized the storm, the more visible the eye, an angry stare. Ana asked questions and Parker relished the danger, secretly hoping the storm would strike.

Late that night, Ana already asleep, he sat in a chair beside the television listening to the special news reports, they repeated what they had been saying all day, but he was attracted to the hysteria. He would wake up to news of a Hurricane Warning, general excitement and fear, or the letdown that they were out of danger. Parker knew he shouldn’t want the hurricane to come, the death and destruction, all to satisfy his need for a thrill, but the only world that really meant anything to him was the one he had in his head, the collective repulsed him. There was a wall up that kept him beyond the clan, except for Christina, she connected and made him part of the whole. The storm plugged him into the world in a way he usually wasn’t connected; it could raise the curtain and allow him to see again beyond it.

He woke up to the alarm at nine, Ana began to stir. The tone of the image left little doubt, a few seconds later the anchorman confirmed the Warning: Helen had grown in strength and her present course would bring her somewhere between Broward or Dade Counties in the early hours of the next day. Parker sat transfixed, invigorated, and for the first time, scared, Ana attentive to every word from the television.

“Don’t worry, my house is safe, but we need to go now. My mother stocked it with water and canned foods and batteries and all that stuff, so we don’t have to shop, thank god. The stores are a mess. I’m going to pack a gym bag, we'll drive to your room, get your stuff and get going.”

“What about class?” she asked, startled.

“Class is canceled for at least a few days.” They left without showering after getting Ana’s things, taking US1, which eventually leads to I-95. The traffic was tremendous and Parker needed gas. The line for the pump was seven cars long, people were nervous, verging on the hysterical, the man in the van immediately in front of Parker peered into his car, motor running, and no way to open the door. He nervously pulled his large, bouncy body to the gas station store looking for a slim jim, Parker drove around his van as the car in front of it moved forward, pumping the gas while the man asked people in cars up if they had a slim jim and knew how to use it. They mostly ingnored him.

Once on I-95 the traffic eased and Parker drove fast. The supermarkets were packed and cars with ply wood on their roofs filled the streets, many business’s were already boarded up. It was eleven in the morning, he calculated five hours to put the shutters up and remove anything that could fly. They stopped at a Seven-Eleven for a twelve pack of beer and cigarettes before getting home.

He stared at a the faded yellow paper with numbers that corresponded the shutters to their respective windows; it had been a long time since he had put them up and his momentary confusion frightened him. Ladder, shutters and screwdrivers, she would hold the shutter in place while Parker screwed in the bolts that held it up.
Helen’s enormous center of low pressure sucked up all the bad whether around them, allowing the sun to pelt them, they sweat profusely. Her firm thigh muscle sending drops of sweat into the air as she worked, her breasts and her tan body shining. Full of adrenaline, they achieved a good rhythm and worked well for two hours. “Lets take a jump in the pool to cool off.”

A neighbor approached. “Hi Parker, looks like your almost there, where’s Lola, I haven’t seen her in a while?”

“She’s in Spain for the summer, so I came back from school to get the place ready.” He felt himself losing rhythm, annoyed at the interruption.
“She getting stronger, some storm. Are you going to ride it out here.” Long arms ended in deep pockets.

“I think so, how about you?”

“Don’t know, these damn news people have got my wife in a stir, will see.” His lips came together into an unintentional smile.
“I think we’ll be all right.”

“OK, good luck” He smiled at Ana.

“He seemed a little nervous, didn’t he?”

“A little.” Parker was feeling the exhilaration of work in the face of danger, unlimited energy and a clear mind. By four-thirty they had all the shutters up except for one panel in the patio to let them in back of the house. They began to move all the potted plants inside, the patio furniture fell slowly to the bottom of the pool.

“Ana, why don’t you take a shower and in the meantime I’ll make sure we’ve got enough of everything.” Parker took two garbage cans, put clean bags in them and filled them with water, leaving one in each bathroom. After showering and shaving he filled the tubs with water.

“Have a beer.” They watched the news, the tension and storm were growing. Sustained winds of 135 MPH were expected where it would make landfall, the anchorman read off evacuation areas. He debated whether to tell Ana or not say anything and maybe she wouldn’t figure it out. The storm was large, but it wasn’t big enough for them to have to leave.

“They’re going to say that this is an evacuation zone, but only because the storm is barely a category three, a few miles an hour less of wind and we don’t have to evacuate.” He paused, she seemed calm. “The house is well built and I think we are safer here than in a public school sleeping on the floor.”

“I’d hate to have to sleep in a room full of strangers, if you say it will be all right I’d rather stay here.” The TV reported that all the draw bridges would be permanently put up after eleven PM.

“Wanna run down to the beach and see the surfers, we can go over to the ‘Village Tavern’ and have a beer, see what people are saying.”

“Lets go.” He liked her spunk. All of the businesses on the other side of the draw bridge where boarded up and there was little traffic. The bright sun of the morning was replaced with low flying, fast, dark clouds. They walked toward a fishing pier; the bleached blonde hair, the colorful boards, but the arrogance was gone, they were at nature’s mercy, quick and graceless interludes between surfer and wave.

“Those boys are crazy.”

In the ‘Village Tavern’ the bartender was quick to correct any commentaries by his inebriated customers as to the unimportance of Helen. “You can’t take any of these storms for granted, this is a big hurricane, they’re dangerous.” Parker was wondering why he was serving drinks if it was so dangerous. He ordered an Absolute on the rocks and Christina had a whisky and Coke. Parker doubted whether these people, mostly tourists, really knew what they were up against. The news by this time was a constant satellite picture of the now very large and well defined storm, 130 MPH winds and moving in what seemed like a path directly toward them, the edge of the storm already over them on the radar picture. Parker felt very alive but guilty for having wanted the storm to come; Helen had heeded his call.
“When we get home you should call your folks and tell them you are OK, once the phone lines go down it could be a couple of days before they are back up, no electricity, no water and no phone, I need to call my mother too.”

“What should I tell them?”

“Tell them your with some friends in their house that is out of danger.”

“They’ll want the phone number?”

“Give it to them, the phones will be out anyway.”

“It’s just that my parents are a little strict, you know, about staying with you and everything.” They drank and talked and enjoyed the fear and the tension. Parker now felt the curtain completely pulled back. The first squall came in, the wind and rain sobered the atmosphere; tabs were paid and the bartenders started to close. As soon as the first squall past Parker and Ana headed home, they parked the car in the garage and put the last panel up in the patio.

“We can have hot dogs and beans for dinner.” It felt like the first few moments in a newly mounted tent.

“OK”

“I’ll be out in a second.” Parker loaded both barrels of his father’s 20 gauge over under and left it in the closet. Don’t mention the looters to Ana. As he made the hot dogs and beans he watched her staring into the television; the intensity made her more beautiful. “Ana, call your mom, then I’ll call mine.”

“It’s two o’clock in the morning there.”

“Yeah, we should have called before, but better they get the call now, then they see the images on TV and can’t talk to you.”

While Parker spoke on the phone with his mother he heard the loudspeaker from the street, its message audible three times before fading into the wind: “This is an evacuation area, you must leave immediately. You are in danger.” Ana’s face blank.
The frequency and intensity of the squalls increased, there was only a few hours more of electricity. He put the lanterns in the living room and the bedroom, a flashlight in the bathroom, one in the kitchen and two in living the room, he left the radio by the TV. The news reports had the eye passing right over them which meant they would get the worst of it. The rain was constant and the howl of the wind ever louder. “Ana, now that we know were going to get hit, want to watch a movie on one of the cable networks until the electricity goes off, the news will only get us more nervous.”

“I hope there is something good on.”

They found “Mr. Smith Goes to Washington” on one of the cable networks and settled in. The wind wailed, but they were lost in the movie and their beers. At the moment when Jimmy Stewart, beaten and exhausted, starts going through the letters on the floor of the Senate, the electricity went out. Darkness, the roar of the wind and the beating of the rain. Parker fumbled for the lantern, turning on the radio to hear the latest news. “What do we do now?”

“Grab a few beers and go to bed.”

They held each other and listened to the growling, it sounded alive, its fury beastly. Parker began to think about the possibility of tornadoes, one of them hitting the house was the worst scenario. When they woke up it was still raining and windy but less than the night before, the house was dark with the shutters up and smelled stale, the radio said the worst was over.

They spent a few hours, naked, in the hot room holding each other tightly and passionately, unlike the night before. The rain slowly faded into a drizzle, by sunset the skies were clear, the next night hot and uncomfortable. They woke up early in morning, ready to break out, the damage was light and they spent the next few days cleaning up and taking down the shutters. They were outside, in the pool, drinking wine with no electricity, no phone and no running water; dreamlike.
Suddenly, the electricity came on and with it the old world quickly returned. The remnants of what was behind the curtain lingered in the damaged trees and the destroyed boats and homes, but it slowly faded into the old cycle of work and money. The curtain, that Helen pulled back for an instant, returned and left Parker nostalgic.

CLICK HERE to purchase my novel, Cactus Land on Amazon.

An Encounter with a UFO

Imagine you are walking on a virgin beach; somewhere in northern California, or New England. It’s an overcast day, you are alone, and you have been walking for hours, miles from highways, cars, or people. You see a light appear in the distance, maybe it is a plane, maybe a helicopter. But as it approaches you become more and more aware that this is not anything you have ever seen before. It has really happened, you are seeing a UFO!

You stand on the beach flabbergasted. The flying saucer is the size of large sailboat and slate black with blue flashing lights. It lands in front of you. Down comes the ladder, and a fascinating woman, sexy in a Star Wars type way, glides to the beach, barefoot, and raises her strange hand in a warm greeting.

“I am Matilde from the Andromeda Galaxy, I come in peace to speak with you.” At least she doesn’t want to gun you down. Maybe you are thinking about a potential romance, but she kills that idea immediately. “I am here to offer you spiritual and intellectual guidance, a gift from our people to earth. You have been chosen, because our advanced technologies have identified you as the perfect mean of the human race in all aspects.” That hurts. But at least they picked you. Maybe you will be Oprah next week.

“Our culture is approximately 25,000 years more advanced than human civilization. And spiritually, we are even farther ahead of you. If we give you too much information, it could destroy you, like giving a twelve year old a case of vodka. But our advanced computing systems decided that three yes/no questions from a mediocre human will give humanity a gentle push in the rear, without sending it of the rails, or “off the hook” as we like to say.”

“Please think carefully, the fate of humanity is in your hands.” First thing that comes to mind is whether your Brownies will cover on opening day, call that no good bookie Sal and really give him one where it hurts. Clear the mortgage and car payments with a trip to Vegas, and all is well. But Miss Universe looks like she is reading your mind, and you get the look that reminds you of your rich Aunt admonishing you for saying ain’t as a child.

You take a deep breath, "thinking", at least for the last 15 years or so, has been exclusive to drinking beer and smoking. “Excuse me, mam, could I have a six pack of Bud Light and a pack of Marlboro Lights, just to get the brain working?”

“What is it with mediocrity and its obsessions with “light”? But she acquiesces, and you have your meditation tools.

So what to ask?

Well, lets start with the big one. Is there a God? But too vague, if she says yes, what kind of God, could mean anything. It needs to be more specific. For the good of Mankind, you might be famous, don’t make an ass out of yourself. What happens after death? Do I maintain my individual consciousness after death?

Good, one question done. Now, for the meaning of life. Is there a meaning to life? Too broad, could be like Twilight Zone when people where fattened to be eaten by Martians. The Big Bang. Did a conscious (sentient) being orchestrate the Big Bang?

What about being good? Is it worth it? Are there consequences for my actions after I die for me?


Okay, so you are ready. It took five beers and six cigarettes, but you have your questions ready. You lean back, crack open your final beer, light another cigarette.

“Excuse me, Madame Universe, I have my questions.”

“Very well, let me hear them.”

“First question.” You start broad. “Did a conscious (sentient) being orchestrate the Big Bang?”

“No”

Ohh, well, if you get another no, than time to switch the Brownies question back in.

“Are there consequences for my actions for me after I die?”

“Yes” Damn, there goes the Brownies question. Okay, here is the big one.

“Do I maintain my individual consciousness after death?”

“Good question Harold! No, you don’t.” She gives you a peck on the cheek and slap on the ass, and off she goes.

This posting is made for commentary. I would love to hear your three questions and answers, and maybe some arguments why. I think this could be a creative way to debate big topics, but only yes/no questions please.

The first comment I will include in the post. From Natasha, in Kamchatka, Russia.

Is human culture progressing?

No



Will the human species become extinct do to an epidemic?

No

Will the Kamchatka peninsula experience a natural catastrophe in the next 50 years of enormous proportions?

No (hopefully)

Can’t wait to hear you suggestions.

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The Zen of Quantum Physics

Ever since I can remember, I have been fascinated with two topics, Zen and quantum physics. Along the way there have been many things that have caught my fancy, from writers and film makers to philosophers and psychologists. But I always come back to Zen and physics, especially quantum physics.

I don’t pretend that this essay is original- many others have written on the topic with much more authority.  Even though I have no scientific background, I will try and delve a little more deeply than books like The Secret, with the topical quotes from ‘international coaches and speakers’ like (I am paraphrasing) “new discoveries in quantum physics prove that our thoughts create our realities” or from Ig Nobel prize winner Deepak Chopra for this brilliant piece of writing, which I found on Wikipedia,

“Quantum healing is healing the body mind from a quantum level. That means from a level which is not manifest at a sensory level. Our bodies ultimately are fields of information, intelligence and energy. Quantum healing involves a shift in the fields of energy information, so as to bring about a correction in an idea that has gone wrong. So quantum healing involves healing one mode of consciousness, mind, to bring about changes in another mode of consciousness, body.”

I think he was really burning the midnight oil, (and maybe some other substances) when he wrote that one. It's extremely easy to fall into ridiculous cliches when discussing these topics and by doing so they lose all their mystery.

The one reason why I keep coming back to Zen and quantum physics is that I never really understood either one, so the fascination never wore off. They are the unrequited loves who never gave in to my advances, no matter what I tried or how long I persisted. These topics imitate the dreaminess of love with the sense of wonder they inspire. The subatomic world of quarks, photons and electrons is as wonderful as the Big Bang and Black Holes, Haikus and the Bodhidharma.

While classical physics, and even Relativity, are for the most part understandable, the quantum mysteries are still dilemmas for even the physicists themselves, and that I find very appealing. The key mystery for each human being is the origin and destiny of their own essence and what is our essence other than our consciousness? Consciousness, personal and impersonal, is the key to Zen. To become enlightened is to leave your personal consciousness and enter the universal consciousness. You realize you are not a pinky, but part of an entire body. Easy to conceptualize but very difficult to really 'get'.

In quantum theory, subatomic particles exist in probability waves, and are only defined when “something conscious” observes them. Otherwise they are everywhere and nowhere. This may be a simplification, but it captures the essence of the enigma. The famous phrase from Einstein about God not rolling the dice comes from this mystery. Einstein wanted a deterministic universe, but unfortunately, he didn't get it. Schrodinger summed it up in his famous thought experiment about whether the cat is dead or alive.  What state is the cat in before someone observes? It’s not clear.  Schrodinger, one of the founders of quantum theory, wrote:

“One can even set up quite ridiculous cases. A cat is penned up in a steel chamber, along with the following device (which must be secured against direct interference by the cat): in a Geiger counter, there is a tiny bit of radioactive substance, so small that perhaps in the course of the hour, one of the atoms decays, but also, with equal probability, perhaps none; if it happens, the counter tube discharges, and through a relay releases a hammer that shatters a small flask of hydrocyanic acid. If one has left this entire system to itself for an hour, one would say that the cat still lives if meanwhile no atom has decayed. The psi-function of the entire system would express this by having in it the living and dead cat (pardon the expression) mixed or smeared out in equal parts.

It is typical of these cases that an indeterminacy originally restricted to the atomic domain becomes transformed into macroscopic indeterminacy, which can then be resolved by direct observation. That prevents us from so naively accepting as valid a "blurred model" for representing reality. In itself, it would not embody anything unclear or contradictory. There is a difference between a shaky or out-of-focus photograph and a snapshot of clouds and fog banks”

Basically, the cat is neither alive nor dead till someone observes it. I love the last sentence. It captures the essence of quantum theory. The theory is clear, but the laws are murky.

Applied quantum theory works wonderfully; it has enabled technological advancements from microchips to lasers. There is no debate about whether it works or not. It's real. Most scientists spend their time on the practical applications and leave the “spooky” part to others. What has fascinated me is the idea that our consciousness plays an active role in creating reality. No one imagines the world will end when they die. It clearly continues once our consciousness disappears in death (I will assume here it does).

As a young history student, I was always fascinated by Calvin’s concept of pre-destination. I found it disturbing that we had no choice in the final outcome. God was all knowing, hence he knew before he created us whether we would be saved or not. In a sense, Einstein was a Calvinist, and the Niels Bohr, the principal figure in quantum theory, was a Catholic. The Catholic Church disputed the predestination theory, arguing the sacraments allowed a person to ‘choose’. A photon can be a particle, or it can be a wave. What converts it from wave to particle is some ways appears to be conscious observation.

The riddle of Zen is a different one. By ‘being’ the conscious observer, we ‘lose our false consciousness’.  Zen also has its own thought experiments, Koans in the Rinzai tradition. A Koan is something that one meditates on with the hope that at some point, the conscious egoic mind tires and breaks down and the truth hits you, but not through the thinking mind. The most famous Koan and the first one given to many students is Mu.

“A monk asked Zhaozhou, a Chinese Zen master (known as Jōshū in Japanese): "Has a dog Buddha-nature or not?", Zhaozhou answered: "Wú" (in Japanese, Mu).”

One of the great axioms of Buddhism is Form is Emptiness, and Emptiness is Form. Try to imagine a circle drawn perfectly on a white piece of paper, in black ink. What is inside the black line is the form, the black line is the emptiness. Not easy? Does it remind you of the cat being alive and dead? To feel alive and enlightened I must fully realize that I don’t exist. Niels Bohrs said “If quantum mechanics hasn't profoundly shocked you, you haven't understood it yet.”

Einstein said, “I can’t accept quantum mechanics because it involves spooky actions at a distance.” For example, two electrons from the same hydrogen atom fly out into space in different directions and they are millions of light years apart. Each has a ‘spin’, up or down let’s say. One must be up, and the other down, but we don’t know which is which until we measure. And once we measure one, the other one “somehow knows”. Einstein’s spooky action. Communication faster than the speed of light, or maybe some sort of movement back in time as some have suggested.

I wish I could offer the great unifying theory of Zen and Quantum Physics, but that would be like finally sleeping with my great unrequited love, and at this point, I prefer to maintain the mystery and keep her at a “spooky distance.”

Israel, the Jews and American Foreign Policy

American foreign policy since the end of the cold war has been focused primarily on the Middle East and to an alarming extent on the defense and promotion of Israel. Why has Israel become so central to our foreign policy and what advantages does the United States gain from the relationship?

Israel is not an important trading partner for the United States, in 20th place, behind Venezuela and Thailand. Israel has no significant natural resources, nor is Israel an important defense ally. None of its neighbors pose any significant threat to the United States or American interests. There is not an important Israeli American population. If we equate American Jews as somehow “Israeli” because of the fact that Israel is a Jewish state, than we are still only talking about a population of 6,444,000 approx. (2007) 1.7% - 2.2% of the US population. This is less than the number of Polish Americans, approximately 10,000,000 people and well below the number of Irish Americans, over 30,000,000.

Yet Ireland never received anywhere near the attention that Israel has in the media, in political debates, in foreign aid or in foreign policy efforts, even when a full blown civil war was occurring in Ulster.

The attention Israel receives in the United States is completely disproportionate to its strategic, commercial, or political importance. For example, in reference to the 2008 presidential elections, Shmuel Rosner at Slate wrote,
“in the vice-presidential debate, Israel's name was mentioned 17 times. China was mentioned twice, Europe just once. Russia didn't come up at all. Nor Britain, France, or Germany. The only two countries to get more attention were Iraq and Afghanistan—the countries in which U.S. forces are fighting wars…. A week earlier, in the first McCain-Obama debate, Israel was mentioned seven times, fewer than Russia but still more than China or Japan or any country in Europe, Latin America, or Africa.”

In regards to American foreign aid, the amounts are striking. According to John Mearsheimer and Stephen Walt,

“Since the October War in 1973, Washington has provided Israel with a level of support dwarfing that given to any other state. It has been the largest annual recipient of direct economic and military assistance since 1976, and is the largest recipient in total since World War Two, to the tune of well over $140 billion (in 2004 dollars). Israel receives about $3 billion in direct assistance each year, roughly one-fifth of the foreign aid budget, and worth about $500 a year for every Israeli. This largesse is especially striking since Israel is now a wealthy industrial state with a per capita income roughly equal to that of South Korea or Spain"

It’s fascinating to compare American foreign policy with Mexico, a very important trading partner with the US and country of over 100,000 million people with Israel (population approx. 7.5 million). Issues like immigration and drug trafficking with Mexico have palpable daily effects on the lives of Americans, yet Mexico receives less the 2% of the foreign aid that Israel gets, less than 40 million dollars compared to Israel’s almost 3 billion. And the over 28 million Americans who are of Mexican ancestry? They are apparently, for politicians, much less important than the less than 7 million Jewish Americans.

In the sphere of politics the tone and attitude of US politicians sounds as if their careers depended on how they speak of Israel. Joe Biden during the Vice Presidential debate,

“Gwen, no one in the United States Senate has been a better friend to Israel than Joe Biden. I would have never, ever joined this ticket were I not absolutely sure Barack Obama shared my passion.”

And Sarah Palin,

“But I'm so encouraged to know that we both love Israel, and I think that is a good thing to get to agree on, Sen. Biden. I respect your position on that.”
And President Obama this summer said, according to the New York Times,

“that he is committed to Israel’s security but does not believe it is essential for him to avoid all disagreement with the Jewish state.”

This type of language can only be considered pandering. Why are they pandering to Israel? During the 2008 presidential election, John McCain said he would not sit down with the Spanish government because of the way they pulled their troops out of Iraq. It caused a minor stir, but never became an issue of any importance. Do you think either Obama or McCain could have been elected if either had said that they would not sit down with Israeli leaders due to continued new settlements in the West Bank?

Israel is considered to be a nuclear power. Few if any deny that Israel has nuclear weapons, as well as other weapons of mass destruction. Why does Israel receive no pressure at all from the United States to become a non-nuclear power? Would this not be an excellent bargaining chip with Iran? Iran is a country of over 70,000 million people with a tremendous history and culture, yet they are not allowed to have nuclear weapons, but Israel is? It is easy to understand the Iranian objection to this double standard. It’s very unfortunate that Iran’s president, Mahmoud Ahmadinejad, continues to spew ridiculous, anti-Semitic diatribes that completely distract the attention of the world from the real issues of the Middle East and reduce his country’s credibility. Again, Mearshimeimer and Walt write,

“Washington also provides Israel with consistent diplomatic support. Since 1982, the US has vetoed 32 Security Council resolutions critical of Israel, more than the total number of vetoes cast by all the other Security Council members. It blocks the efforts of Arab states to put Israel’s nuclear arsenal on the IAEA’s agenda.”

Why is it impossible to have a sensible, open debate in the United States regarding our relationship to Israel? The clearest example of why it is not possible occurred in 2006 when John Mearsheimer of the University of Chicago and Stephen Walt of Harvard published a white paper about the power of AIPCAC, the principal Israeli lobby in the US. The ensuing debate was not centered on the issues of the White Paper, quite the contrary; both academics were accused of everything from lack of professionalism to anti-Semitism. The White Paper made very clear arguments about the power of AIPAC and their silencing of Israel’s critics. Mearsheimer and Walt pulled no punches,

“For the past several decades, and especially since the Six-Day War in 1967, the centrepiece of US Middle Eastern policy has been its relationship with Israel. The combination of unwavering support for Israel and the related effort to spread ‘democracy’ throughout the region has inflamed Arab and Islamic opinion and jeopardised not only US security but that of much of the rest of the world. This situation has no equal in American political history. Why has the US been willing to set aside its own security and that of many of its allies in order to advance the interests of another state?”

The authors received a drubbing and were quickly silenced. Alan Derschowitz as well as Eliot Cohen of John Hopkins both accused Mearsheimer and Walt of anti-Semitism and bigotry.

When Jimmy Carter came out with his book about the Israeli-Palestinian question, Palestine Peace Not Apartheid, the debate again became about him, not the plight of the Palestinians.

Increasingly, the war in Iraq is being attributed to the Neo-Conservative wing of the Republican Party that had a very influential role in the Bush administration. For most of the world this has been obvious, but in the US it has been a taboo topic. Michael Kinsley is quoted as saying "the connection between the invasion of Iraq and Israeli interests had become 'the proverbial elephant in the room. Everybody sees it, no one mentions it.'" The Neo-Cons had for years been itching to invade Iraq. The general theory was that by changing the regime in Iraq, regime change would occur in Iran and Syria, clearing the way for a new Middle East and a much friendlier atmosphere for Israel.

What occurred on 9/11 gave them the opening they had been looking for, and they cunningly convinced the US population that somehow Iraq had some connection to 9/11. This was a blatant falsification of the facts advanced with the help of AIPAC and important supporters of Israel in the media. The Israeli angle for the war in Iraq is the mainstream explanation in much of the world but rarely discussed in the US.
America must be able to openly debate what has become the main focus of our foreign policy, and our largest benefactor of foreign aid. At the moment we are not able to do so. When academics or politicians question Americas support for Israel, they are branded as anti-Semitic. No member of either party is willing to openly question our relationship with Israel out of fear. Something undemocratic has taken over a part of our government, and the most important part of our foreign policy. America has lost and continues to lose credibility in the world as many see US foreign policy in the Middle East as under at least partial control of Israel.

Let us imagine that the United States had ‘divorced’ Israel 20 years ago, considering it a foreign policy liability. Would we have much better relations now with the Arab world? Would 9/11 have been avoided? Would we have avoided entering the Afghanistan and Iraq Wars? Would Israel have been forced to make an equitable deal with the Palestinians out of fear of being ostracized from the international community? Would the US have focused much more energy at the end of the cold war on improving relations with the nations of the former Soviet Union including Russia? Would the world be a better place?

The United States foreign policy has been hijacked, and our leaders and thinkers have been intimidated by a foreign government and its apologists. Somehow, discussion of the special American relationship with Israel has become taboo. This has been carried out by supporters of Israel who use the media and AIPAC to intimidate politicians, journalists and intellectuals. Our thinkers and leaders are afraid to openly discuss the US relationship with Israel out of fear of being branded anti-Semitic and being ostracized. This is a form of McCarthyism that must be immediately rooted out like the cancer that it is. American has lost part of its freedom of expression, our most sacred gift from our founding fathers, the cornerstone of our republic and our prosperity. It must be taken back.

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Creating an International Political Party - Part III

This is a three part series on creating a world political party. Part I discusses how current trends in the world are ideal for the creation of a world party. Part II discusses the structure of the party and Part III expands on ideology and platforms.

Creating an International Political Party Part I
Creating an International Political Party Part II
Creating an International Political Party Part III

Three major challenges confront the world today, poverty, corruption, and sustainable growth. The first two particularly pertain to the underdeveloped and developing world. Poverty and corruption today is primarily a circumstance of undemocratic and corrupt government. With current technological advances, a government that works for the people, in their best interest, will quickly be able to raise standards of living. Poverty and corruption work hand-in-hand. Prosperity means strong democratic institutions, institutions that will put the government at the service of the people, not at the service of self-serving politicians and oligarchs who only pursue personal wealth and power through government service.

Sustainable growth is something that is equally difficult for all, developing countries as well as developed countries. Coordinating our consumption of raw materials as well as manufactured goods is vital to sustainable prosperity. Only a universal plan, free of greed and corruption, will be able to administer the world’s resources in a responsible and sustainable way.

Many believe the environment will not be able to sustain a growing world population and economy. Clearly the earth’s resources are strained, but there is also another threat looming that could be a more imminent danger. The possibility that the world is reaching peak oil has been openly debated. It is not clear how close that point is, but when it is reached, the price increases that will occur on the downside of the graph as our oil reserves go from their high points towards depletion will be tremendous. Though we do not know when this will occur, there is a possibility that it could occur within the next 10 years, and it is very likely to occur with the next 50 years.

While the deterioration of the environment is obviously a tremendous danger to the continued progress of humanity, the problem of peak oil could actually be more dangerous in the short term. So much of our current prosperity is based on oil and the economic growth that oil offers, that once it becomes prohibitively expensive, the world may have difficulty supplying basic needs to a population that grew so rapidly from abundant cheap energy.

The entire current world infrastructure, as well as the financial system is based on cheap oil. Once we begin the downward slope from peak, not only could we face real problems to feed and house the world population, there is also the danger of war over the ever declining supplies of oil.

The people of the world must unite under a group of institutions that will be given power by the nations of the world to administer the resources of the earth, insure the basic human rights of the world’s citizens, and be the arbiter of international relations.

Human rights are clearly the right to expression, basic private property, the right to work, the right to a clean safe home, the right to eat, the right to health care, and right that all children be given a complete education. Today this is possible. It may not have been possible even 25 years ago, but with advances in technology we can give every human these basic elements of life. It will not happen overnight, but with a concerted global effort, it is conceivable to achieve within ten years. How would this be paid for? Where would the resources come from?

All persons have the right to basic private property, which means a home, transportation, private belongings, investments, money, etc. But the ownerships of the world’s natural resources must be property of all citizens of the world. This may be extremely difficult to implement in the short term, but the consequences of not doing this could be fatal for human culture. Initially, all nation states should take control of basic natural resources, water, wood, oceans, oil, minerals etc. The shareholders of the entities that now own these resources would be compensated. Once these resources were under control of nation states, a 10% tax would be placed on the international commerce of these natural resources to pay for the infrastructure needed in developing countries, this tax plus their own revenue generated from the sale of these resources would pay for the building of homes, hospitals, infrastructure, schools, universities etc.

The second source of revenue for the international governing body would be a membership tax on all nations that enter the international organization. This tax would be a 50% tax on military spending. This would generate revenue and drastically reduce the amount of world military spending. These would be the only sources of revenue for the world governing body. Any military operations would be carried out by the militaries of member nations. As the party begins to win control of nations, these nations would enter the world governing body by parliamentary vote or referendum, much the same as has occurred with the EU.

Another source of revenue to fund the development of infrastructure across the world would be the creation of a new world currency. This new currency will be backed by the world’s natural resources. All national debts would be dissolved and reimbursed by the new currency. The freed tax revenue would be dedicated achieving the basic rights of men; food, housing, work, health care and education in the developing world, as well as creating a new, clean energy source and infrastructure in the developed world that can be quickly transferred to developing nations. New communities and energy sources will be created under a clean, sustainable, peaceful model.

The world governing body and world constitution will detail the legislative procedures to enact and realize the core values of the world constitution. War, corruption, oppression, and the unsustainable dissipation of the world’s natural resources will not be tolerated in member nations. In exchange for the immense resources that the world governing body will allocate, completely transparent democratic institutions must rule all member nations, above all person or party.

The world governing body will leave the vast majority of culture governance to national and regional governments. World holidays will be created, as well as educational databases, exhibitions and international budgets for the promotion of the world great traditions. There will be a complete and total separation of the world governing body from any religious affiliation whatsoever.

To summarize the ideological foundation of the world governing body: life, freedom, peace, democracy and sustainability. Once these have been reasonably assured for all humans, a new age of peace, harmony and sanity will prevail.

Creating an International Political Party Part I
Creating an International Political Party Part II
Creating an International Political Party Part III

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Creating an International Political Party - Part II (Structure)

This is a three part series on creating a world political party. Part I discusses how current trends in the world are ideal for the creation of a world party. Part II discusses the structure of the party and Part III expands on ideology and platforms.

Creating an International Political Party Part I
Creating an International Political Party Part II
Creating an International Political Party Part III

Considering the ease at which a world political party could be created with the Internet and the widespread knowledge of English, an important question must be asked and resolved before even ideology is discussed and that is how the party should be structured and how it will intervene in national politics.

One absolutely critical point is that in the party constitution, which will cover the structure and actions of the party, as well as the ideology, it must be made very clear that the party will always act within the laws of the country it is acting in. This could and will be a major point of contention, but it is not negotiable. The viability of the party is based on the fact that it will never support violence in the pursuit of political power and will always act within the legal boundaries of the country where it is operating.

The party will be virtual on the international level, but on the national level it will have a structure similar to other political parties in the nation in which it acts. The website will be the hub of international activity. Members will sign up, have a message board, forum, virtual conventions twice a year, as well as volunteer and paid positions. The key to the structure of the website and the party in general is transparency. All monies coming in as well as going out will be made public on the website. Monthly statements will be made public. Initially, there will be a six person representation from each country elected to international physical conventions of the party, which will take place twice a year. Considering that there are more or less 200 countries in the world and that each would have six representatives, there would be roughly a 1200 person World Congress. This World Congress will elect a 12 person Executive Committee, with no more than one person eligible per country. The entire world membership will elect the Chairperson of the Executive Committee which will be one of the members of the Executive Committee.

Once this has been completed at the World Congress, work will begin on drafting a constitution that will be ratified at the following physical World Congress. This is potentially the most challenging moment for the party. The Constitution will not only serve as overriding rule of law for the party, it will also become the keystone for the world constitution that will govern the New World Government. The six month debate the will ensue must be of the highest order, and as widespread among members as possible.

Once this constitution is drawn up and ratified, work can begin on bringing the local parties to power. While the ideological basis for the party will be discussed in the next article, it is important nonetheless to discuss the overriding goal of the party, and that is to create a one world government, bound by its own law to protect all member states and citizens. The most likely framework is a governance body that begins with a limited number of members, and grows slowly outward. This must be considered when drafting the initial constitution. All language, attitudes and spirit must be inclusive of those nations not operating under the charter.

The parties operating in each nation must work on all levels, national, regional and local, to gain political power. Once that political power is acquired, it must be used for two purposes: first two pursue policies that promote the values and ideals of the World Constitution, and second to bring the host nation under the charter of the New World Government. This pursuit must always follow the laws of the host nation and never, under any circumstances, promote or support any violent act.

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While it may seem far fetched to discuss this level of detail before even a website is started, we must not underestimate the speed at which these types of endeavors can progress with modern dissemination methods. This will be the first truly worldwide movement. No matter who gains leadership or protagonism within the party, the key to the success of the party is that it never becomes associated with one particular country, area, organization or culture. All people in leadership levels must act in the interest of the whole. Language, actions, or policies that are exclusive must be avoided.

First and foremost we are human beings. Within the context of the party, we will want to avoid any behavior or policies that are exclusive of anyone due to their gender, race, ethnicity, sexual identity, the language they speak or don’t speak, financial position or any other reason. One of the fundamental reasons for the founding of the party is to stop these types of behaviors at least in as much as they hinder many humans from acquiring the very basic necessities of life.

A possible name for the party is the World People’s Party, or WPP. And the congress’s could be called the World People’s Congress and the new government could be called the New World Body. These are simply suggestions; all would have to be voted on at the first World Congress. But in order to act sometimes it is important to have a name.

Finally, the call action. For this to get off the ground, one donor must be found to fund the building of the website (programming, design, creative pieces, email service, and initial ad campaign). Depending on the donor, this could range from $10,000 at a minimum, to $10,000,000 at a maximum. The difference in quantities will be reflected in the speed of the campaign and the assurance of success. A $10,000 start could fail before it ever got off the ground, with $10,000,000 success is assured. Anywhere in the middle and speed and success of the campaign is more or less certain. Before anything can be started, an international organization would have to be founded to administer monies, payments, charters etc.

So we have the goal, it is time to get started, and have one person initialize funding, create the organization, and get the website and message out there. The rest the people will handle. Next installment, the ideology.
This is a three part series on creating a world political party, click below to see Part I. Part I discusses how current trends in the world are ideal for the creation of a world party. Part II will discuss the structure of the party and Part III will discuss ideology and platforms.

Creating an International Political Party Part I
Creating an International Political Party Part II
Creating an International Political Party Part III

Creating an International Political Party - Part I (Current Trends)

This is a three part series on creating a world political party. Part I discusses how current trends in the world are ideal for the creation of a world party. Part II discusses the structure of the party and Part III expands on ideology and platforms.

Creating an International Political Party Part I
Creating an International Political Party Part II
Creating an International Political Party Part III

As we become more globalized, is it time that the citizens of the world created a worldwide political party? Such parties exist in Europe, for example, under the umbrella of the EU. There are loose associations between the European wide Christian Democratic parties, Socialist parties and Green Parties. But there is no real sense of a truly international party, it is more like an association of like minded parties, but the membership is definitely national.

The democracies of the world have been able to reach very high levels of prosperity, especially since the end of the Second World War, but unfortunately the prosperity of the non-democratic countries has lagged tremendously. The most blatant examples are in Latin America and Eastern Europe. Countries like Argentina, Mexico, Ukraine or even Russia, when one takes into consideration the amount of natural and human resources; the only explanation for the gap in development with other nations is political.

Many have wondered at the tremendous economic success of the United States. Students from the United States are certainly no where near the top of the any ranking of curriculum.

The Washington Post reported “The scores from the 2006 Program for International Student Assessment showed that U.S. 15-year-olds trailed their peers from many industrialized countries. The average science score of U.S. students lagged behind those in 16 of 30 countries in the Organization for Economic Cooperation and Development, a Paris-based group that represents the world's richest countries. The U.S. students were further behind in math, trailing counterparts in 23 countries.”

Clearly people in the United States are not better prepared than there counterparts, nor more talented. The secret to the incredible and enduring prosperity of the United States is very simple but often overlooked. The key to American prosperity is the tremendously strong, almost sacred democratic institutions that have guaranteed the supremacy of constitutional rights over those of any person or party. The United Kingdom demonstrated the superiority of these institutions in the nineteenth-century as the United States had done in the 20th. And as these two nations spread their ideals through Western Europe,Japan and Korea, prosperity has followed.

It is no surprise that when the United States denied some groups within its borders the full value of these democratic rights, the economic prosperity of these groups lagged substantially behind the majority. In Great Britain, the example of Ireland stands out. Where and when legal rights where denied, Ireland remained economically backward. Curiously, now that Republic of Ireland is a full member of the EU and a strongly democratic country, its per-capita GDP is actually significantly higher than that of the United Kingdom.

But there has never been the need or the desire to carry these values into the international arena. What was sacred at home was not considered crucial when dealing with other nations. In the case of the United States, suffice to look at its relationship with Iran, Cuba, the Dominican Republic, Argentina, Chile, Vietnam, Guatemala or Nicaragua to see how little it valued sound democratic principles when dealing abroad. The example of Iran is particularly interesting, as the United States continually disregarded the democratic movements in Iran. Imagine Iran today if the United States had supported the same values in Iran that it does at home?

The Israeli example is perhaps the most blatant. Palestinians are not considered worthy of the same rights as Jews or Americans, all in an effort to safeguard Israeli prosperity. It seems the lesson is never learned, the key to security is prosperity, and the key to prosperity is sound democratic institutions.

More than any other media, the internet has given citizens of the world the possibility to freely communicate with each others and share information, data and media. One of the major benefits of the emergence of the English language as the ‘de facto’ international language is that, joined with the internet, we have now practically overcome almost all the political and economic barriers to people communicating with each other. Basic english skills and access to a PC and the internet, and one can communicate with the world. Isn’t it time that we began to use the internet as a tool for world unity?

The economics barriers to creating a world political party are miniscule. With a few thousand US Dollars, a robust website with an email and chat platform could be created while leavinge the marketing to buzz. If the message is right, viral marketing will take the parties platform to all ends of the earth, and create a vital force to change the world, for practically nothing.

What do most of the people want in the world? The Financial Times will tell you they want mobile phones or BMW’s. But the truth is, most people want a safe, clean, comfortable place to live with running water, food, clothes, safe and accessible education for their children and healthcare. Imagine a world political party that said the number one priority for all the world is that everyone has these things. Before one more fighter plane is built, before one more Mercedes rolls off the assembly line, every human deserves a clean bed, food, clothes, medical care, and education for their children. Maybe in the past it was difficult to imagine the world as one family; the obstacles between countries and peoples were tremendous. But now we are truly one.

Can you imagine a family, living in a beautiful house, where some members sleep in the bushes, some on the floor in the kitchen while others sleep comfortably in the master bedroom under clean cotton sheets? We are finally realizing that we really all are part of the same family. And with the same intensity that we use to organize and support world athletic tournaments, it is time we began organizing a world political party.

This is the first installment of a series of three articles on creating a world political party.

The Fountainhead Revisited

I never really liked Ayn Rand (Alisa Zinov'yevna Rosenbaum), yes, that name is far too good to be true. Something about her and the people who were so devoted to her always annoyed me. The truth is, I knew very little about her other than her novels seemed very long, Alan Greenspan was connected to her in some way and she had a morbid affair with Nathaniel Branden (Nathan Blumenthal) also too good be true. I had heard an interview with Branden and Ken Wilber in which Branden, a recognized psychologist, discussed the affair with the much older and married Rand.

Okay, I don’t like Republicans either. I took the Harvard bias tests online, all of them. Gays, Blacks, Jews, women, I have to say, surprisingly, no bias. But when I took the test for Republicans, big red light went off on the computer, horns sounded (I’m exaggerating). But yes, according to Harvard, the only bias I have is towards Republicans. And something about the Ayn Rand type of Republican, I find especially irksome. New Agers for the right wing. But don’t doubt their zeal.


According to The New York Times “When a 1991 survey by the Library of Congress and the Book-of-the-Month Club asked what the most influential book in the respondent's life was, Rand's Atlas Shrugged was the second most popular choice, after the Bible.”

I can’t speak for the validity of the data, but its nonetheless shocking. Alan Greenspan, the Neo-Cons, Dick Cheney, and Ayn Rand as their muse, sending America off into imperialist wars and eliminating income tax for the rich as an incentive to achieve. That, plus the kinky affair with the young Branden, pardon me if I didn’t have a positive image of Mrs. Rand.

It is the spring of 2009, in Murcia Spain. I am staying at an old country house that my ex-wife’s family has, on a very big farm about 5 kilometers from the nearest village which has a few thousand inhabitants. The rest of the villages in the area are much smaller, some with fewer than 50 people. I have no money, truly, completely, broke. No car, limited amount of food and an ex-wife thrilled to see me squirm. I am basically hungry all day, drinking is out of the question, only vice I have is coffee and cigarettes and some books, in a house that could be considered a palace, with a tower, crest on front of it, maybe 10,000 sq. feet (1,000 sq meters). And I forgot to tell you, very intermittent hot water, like every three days or so. How does a 42 year old man wind up in such a situation? You, and a lot of other people would get a real laugh out of that one, but keep reading my blog and maybe I will give some hints.

I consider myself well read. What does that mean? I mean old school well read. From Aristotle and Plato through Schopenhauer and Nietzsche all the important Russians, French and English novelists, The New Yorker, you get the idea. And whenever I come across someone well known I haven’t read, it bothers me. I have very clear ideas about reading. First, I never read anything twice, I decided long ago, I prefer to read more than enjoy over and over the trusted few. A matter of temperaments of course, but I made my decision, and I follow it quite strictly. The other rule I have about reading is that I don’t generally read anything that was written in the last 50 years. The main reason being that I don’t trust critics, for me, the only and best critic is time. Time, as a critic, never waivers and never falters, she is flawless. This way I don’t read garbage. I will not read what I don’t think will be in read in 50 years. And the best way to do that is only read things that have been in print for at least 50 years. Yes, there are some exceptions, but very infrequent, and when I make them, it is usually for some pop-spirituality book I am forced to read by a woman. (There is no bias there that is all fact.)

So can someone who hasn’t read Harry Potter, or The DaVinci Code (though I am a big fan of DaVinci’s Inquest, first TV show that has hooked me in years) be considered well read? I tend to think so. Can someone who hasn’t read Stendhal be considered well read, maybe more difficult. Well, long way back to Ayn Rand. There I am on a farm, broke, hungry, no booze, only cigarettes, potatoes and a big jar of Nescafe. I was going days without speaking to anyone. I find an old edition of Ayn Rand’s The Fountainhead which I had left there years ago. It was a pocket edition, small print, coming apart a bit at the seams. An address in Hong Kong, written on the inside cover. I think I bought it at a used English bookstore in Madrid many years back.

You can’t say Mrs. Rand was a virtuoso with the prose. Her dialogs sometimes sound very comic bookish. But she understands plot. And the story pulls you in very quickly. It is a fabulous read; there is something refreshingly romantic and idealistic about it all. I get the gist of Objectivism, Mrs. Rand’s philosophy. But I understand why academics have shunned it. It's not intellectually very interesting. It's something smart 13 year olds can get excited about, but not 30 year olds. And I think that is what always bothered me about the people who were Ayn Rand fanatics (apart from the fact that Harvard says I have a pre-programmed bias against them) is that they seem like those weird kids who knew something so sophisticated, so special for their age, that you were never going to understand, and they lorded it over you.

Nevertheless, as far as fiction goes, The Fountainhead is a great read, very well constructed, maybe a bit too long. I think she could have pulled the story together earlier, a lot of the tension is gone towards the end. It becomes too obvious.

But all in all, it was so nice to find an author, while in my 40’s, who I thought I wouldn’t like but I did, maybe there is hope for my bias. I look forward to reading Atlas Shrugged.


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The Most Successful Terrorist Attack in History

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Spanish Judge Juan del Olmo in his 2006 final briefing on the March 11, 2004 terrorists attacks in Madrid sited three main objectives of the terrorists.

1. Provoke an unlikely Socialist victory in the Spanish elections.
2. Achieve the withdrawal of Spanish troops from Iraq.
3. The internacional isolation of US troops in the war in Iraq.

All three were achieved.

It was a Thursday March 11, 2004 in Madrid, and I was off that day. My girlfriend left at the usual hour, 8.00AM. I got up as she left. She usually either got a bus in front of the Prado, or took a train from Atocha Station. The phone rang, her high pitched voice was very nervous. She said people were running out of Atocha Station, something had happened, expletives about ETA, the Basque terrorist group.

I turned on the TV, several commuter trains had been bombed, the head of the Basque Government condemned ETA for the bombings. There were national elections on Sunday. Not just one train, several trains. Initially, it was assumed that ETA was the perpetrator, but from the beginning there were doubts. The death toll rose by the minute, finally reaching 191 and close to 1,500 people injured.

It is crucial to understand the political situation in Spain to understand why these attacks were so successful. ETA had for years attacked the Popular Party of the President and ruling party, murdering many active members of the PP. PP elected officials in the Basque country almost always had to travel with body guards and lived in fear. The Popular Party, PP, gained enormous credibility with its stand against ETA among Spaniards outside the Basque country. On the other hand, the PP’s support of the war in Iraq had almost no support in Spain.

Spaniards were almost unanimously against the war in Iraq, over 90% in most polls. The protest marches in Madrid were massive, reaching the millions. As an American it was not easy to balance the anger from 9/11 with the common sense arguments against an intervention in Iraq that had nothing to do with 9/11. Watching Colin Powell, from my television in Madrid, address the United Nations was one of the most embarrassing moments I ever had as an American abroad. Spaniards showed enormous solidarity with the US after 9/11, but it quickly dissipated into anger over the buildup to the war in Iraq. What was the president, Jose Maria Aznar, thinking? What could he possibly gain politically in Spain or in Europe by following Tony Blair and Bush down the dangerous road of war?


Aznar was finishing his second term, and is hand picked successor, Mariano Rajoy, was leading the Socialist, Jose Luis Zapatero buy a healthy margin of more than 5%. The PP would not win an outright majority, but the election was theirs. If there is no terrorist attack, the PP wins. There is little doubt about this. But the Islamic terrorists knew how anti-war Spain was, and they also knew something interesting about the Spanish character, maybe from there 700 years of dominant presence on the peninsula.

That Thursday the 11th of March, very few voices were raised against the idea that the attacks were perpetrated by ETA, at least during the morning hours. But the police knew it wasn’t ETA very shortly after examining the debris of the attacks. Bombs have signatures. A friend, a detective in the National Police of Spain, assured me the experts knew immediately that at least these bombs did not resemble anything ETA had made in the past. The only doubt came from a foiled attempt by ETA to put a suitcase bomb on a passenger train a few months previous, but while the methodology was similar, the bomb they were going to use had nothing to do with what was found at the March 11 attacks. That afternoon, a car was discovered by one of the commuter stations. It had radical Islamic tapes in it. Doubts grew. Aznar knew his country. If the bombings were attributed to the Islamists, the PP would lose the elections. That Friday, a massive rally was organized by the government against the attacks, emphasizing the ETA connection and that is when the voices began to be heard asking what really happened. I remember walking in the protest march through the rain, relatively close to the front, and hearing people shout “We want the truth!”

By that time there was no doubt in official circles that the bombings were the work of Islamists. Aznar, the departing president, decided not to leave as a statesman and sacrifice political gains for the truth to the nation. He cynically hoped to keep the truth hidden at least until Sunday night, when the polls closed, and keep a hold on power for his party for four more years. How lamentable and pathetic is this? One hundred and ninety one people dead, many more injured and maimed, and he wanted to use the attacks to keep his party in power, instead of acting as a responsible head of state and directing all energy towards capturing the perpetrators.

As pathetic as the President’s actions were, what about the reaction of the public in general? These were commuter trains from working class areas in Madrid, people with long commutes, slaughtered on the way to work. As it became more and more clear what had happened, all voices were raised against the government, their responsibility for the bombings and the cover up. But the massacre of these innocent people was carried out by Moroccans and Algerians, living and working in Spain, apparently in solidarity with their coreligionists in Iraq. Imagine Norwegians planting terrorists bombs in Indonesia because of the 9/11 attacks, would it make any sense? But the Spaniards saw a group of Moroccans bombing their own people in response to the Spanish government’s support of the war in Iraq as an almost legitimate response. There were no protests against radical Islam. On the contrary.

It was very late on a Saturday night, March 13, 2004 in Madrid. I lived about a ten minute walk from Atocha station, the “Barrio de letras”, the literary neighborhood, where Cervantes is buried and Lope de Vega lived. I was crossing Atocha Street, in front of the station. A group of protesters held up signs. One of them read “No te metes con los moros!” Don’t mess with the moors! I was flabbergasted. Almost as if they were supporting the terrorists! As if Spain were reaping what is sowed. A few months later I was having a beer with an ex Spanish Air force pilot who had gone to the military academy and flown fighters. I asked him if he and his military friends thought there were targets somewhere that could be struck in response. He answered that he didn’t think Bin Laden was real.

Imagine similar circumstance in any other country in the world, any other country. Almost 200 hundred innocent people killed on their way to work by terrorists, and the only anger shown is toward ones own government, never a mention of radical Islam.

Of course the Socialists won the elections, and what was the first thing they did when they got into power? Exactly what the terrorists wanted. Pulled their troops out of Iraq as fast as they could, even taking out special service agents from the CESID, Spanish intelligence service, who were working against Al Qaeda in Iraq. The aftermath was a political drubbing of the PP and their sick attempts at manipulation, which they deserved, but nonetheless, not a voice rose against radical Islam. Zapatero claimed he was just fulfilling his political promises to leave Iraq. But considering the circumstances of his electoral win, he might have decided on a less cowardly response to terror.

The Spanish people were right in the quick realization that the war in Iraq had nothing to do with terrorism or weapons of mass destruction. They quickly saw that it was the Neo-Cons taking advantage of national hysteria to promote a pro-Israeli agenda in the Middle East. Remove Saddam Hussein, destabilize Syria and Iran with a democratic, Shia government, and improve the landscape for Israel. Nonetheless, Saddam Hussein by all accounts, was a brutal, vicious dictator. And Iraq and Spain shared something in common; two countries with so much potential were terribly stunted by years of dictatorship. That comparison was never talked about. I once asked a Spaniard, when discussing the possibility of removing Saddam Hussein, whether it would have been better if the Allies had decided to forcibly remove Franco in the aftermath the WWII. Would Spain’s history have been radically different if a democratic government had been put in place in the late 40’s, forcibly and with casualties of course. Maybe not for altruistic reasons, for geo-political ones, but done nonetheless. He couldn’t respond. I asked him again, insisting that it would have been an “illegal” war, as Zapatero enjoys calling the war in Iraq, and there would have been military and civilian casualties, but the allies would have easily removed the “fascist” dictator Franco. No response. I tried with other Spaniards, but none enjoyed the comparison.

The events around the March 11 bombings surely mark a low point in the entire social and political history of Spain.

1. A President who lied to the nation about the perpetrators of a horrendous act to try and win an election for his party.

2. A society that, after being brutalized by radical Islamist, was incapable of rallying against a common enemy, and was only able to accuse its own members of having provoked the attacks.

3. An incoming President who ran from Iraq if under orders from Al Qaida.

Mr. Obama should keep this in mind as the Spanish government courts improved relations with Washington. This is not a country you can count on to cover your back.