Category: Fire Lighting Rabble Rouser

Hello my fellow grimericans!

As last year banged to a close, and we all stared wide-eyed at the political circus rounding through it’s final act, I promised a rather ambitious project: A primer of conspiracy theory in the modern age. As I stared down the project and began an outline, I realized I was in some serious trouble. Each of the major categories of conspiracy web out into a thousand glittering strands. A list of conspiracies stating just the very basics of who, what, where, when, how, and why quickly became overwhelming, especially if I aimed to track them all, and not simply the ones I believe to be relevant.

I’m altering my intentions. Now I mean to talk about 100 different things relating to conspiracy and alternative media. This list will be completely capricious. I do hope it will be revealing and that I might introduce you to some very interesting stuff. Much of it is not new, and some of it will be down right old. Still, I bet you’ve missed quite a bit of it. After all, there is so much to see!

With that said, let me present this week’s winner and theme. The category is Occult Symbolism and the winner is Heliofant and his video, I Pet Goat II. I found this video some years ago, as I was delving into symbolism, masonry, illuminati, hollyweird, Carl Jung, and Joseph Campbell (among others). This video is a rich tapestry of symbolism rampant in popular media, weaved into a narrative of the controlling interests of the age pitted against the individual yearning for something better. There are lots of videos breaking down the various visuals that claim all sorts of things about this film. Some of them are full of crap, some are not. Personally, I stay away from these derivative videos and let Heliofant speak for Heliofant.

If occult symbolism interests you, here is some follow-up homework: – a site discussing hollyweird symbolism, nefarious sites, and occulted art

Southland Tales – a movie so rich in Illuminati symbolism (and hollywood star power!) that it begs the question “What is going on in the southland?” – the mathemagician himself explores the meaning in numbers, letters, and basic symbolism in an accurate and hopeful manner.

The Key to the Universe by Harriette Augusta Curtiss: Written by a couple of Christian Mystics around the time of World War One, this book is a rich exploration of number, letter (hebrew), and tarot.




1. I Pet Goat II *****
I love this film! It flips the script on the fear, apathy, and hopelessness so often found in popular media. Let us each find the Christ consciousness that dwells inside!

2.Southland Tales **1/2
The best part of this movie is the incredible proliferation of various memes and symbolism that are (and were) so very prevalent. In one scene, Justin Timberlake sports one eye and a Baphomet in blood on his t-shirt while dancing with a dozen Marilyn Monroes. Also, the war between North Korea and Hollywood is at the forefront (if ever there was a more impotent devil than N. Korea, I have yet to see it…). This movie is entertaining despite itself. No wonder you’ve never heard of it before!



1. ****1/2
Marty Leeds is on to something. The originator of the 1-7-1 english gematria cypher (most commonly referred to as the Marty Leeds Cypher) aims to show you that you are at the center of your universe. One of the great illuminators of our age, he casts a bright light on the occult. This is a great reference for numerology, cosmology, occultism, and especially the art of gematria.

2. ***1/2
Although I really like this site, it is hard to come away from it with any sense of hope. It is rich with current happenings and some very strange stories I’ve seen no where else, but it is a bit of a downer. Still, the purveyor knows his business. Enter at your own risk.



1. The Key to the Universe by Harriette Augusta Curtiss *****
I love everything about this book except its final verdict. Do these brilliant and rare theologians really believe that the human race is bound to find perfection in celibacy? I am not of the crowd that believes our sexuality is the cause of our problems (although I believe our inability to deal with our sexuality in a responsible manner is indeed central to our problems – responsibility being the key to this critique). That said, the first 400 pages (nearly the entire book) was a revealing, poetic, intoxicating read. And its a hundred years old to boot! It goes to show that we’ve had the truth all along.

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Act three: Manufacturing Trauma

Kent entered the master suite.

“You okay?” Veronica asked as she set aside her book.

“Yeah, I just…” Kent waved a hand at the door. “What am I going to do with her?”

“What’s the problem?”

“She’s a willful teenager, too full of her own ideas! How do I get across to her?”

“Trauma,” Veronica noted.

“Well, that’s a shitty idea!” Kent shot back.

Veronica shrugged. “In the real world, trauma would come naturally. Shitty people and shitty circumstances would eventually find her… So, yeah, it’s shitty. But shitty happens.”

Kent didn’t reply. His brow furrowed as he thought on it.

“Do you know what she asked me today? She asked me to talk to her about sex,” Veronica noted.

“That’s not my doing,” Kent answered.

“No, but it’s the sort of thing I’m talking about. I’m convinced most people first discover sex when its forced on ’em.”

“That’s sick,” Kent stated.

“The world is sick,” Veronica noted. “Isn’t that your whole philosophy?”

“She doesn’t have the physical ability,”” Kent noted.

“Yes, because you gave her power instead of a way to take it,” Veronica smirked. ” But we suffer in a thousand different ways. There’s physical, mental, spiritual traumas… To me, it’s obvious any such trauma would have to be programmed. It’s the only thing she really cares about anyway: her precious coding.”

Kent shook his head, “It’s a very delicate balance… If I change the slightest thing, it could throw her completely off. She won’t be different, she’ll be useless.”

“Then you’ll have to change something big, something audacious. You have to turn her world upside down.”

Kent thought on it, “…yeah… actually, Veronica, I think you hit it on the head.”

“Did I?”

“She is too soft. She still believes there’s order at the heart of the universe.”

“What is at the core?” Veronica asked.

“Nothing. Black holes… At the heart is mere chaos,” Kent surmised. “I hate to say it, but there is no reason, no purpose, no divine presence keeping its secret order. The senses are simply a trick of the lighting, so to say. There is simply madness ripping everything to shreds. We need to infuse her with a bit of that. Then she’ll solve for humanity. She’ll solve for it right quick…”


pi = (pi!, pi.,pi?) or (-pi!, -pi., -pi?)
pi! = -3
pi. = -3.1416
pi? = -3.3334

Jenna sat up and concentrated on the code as it looped over and over. Several minutes passed before she noticed the table before her. She tried to move it with coding alone and was disappointed when it did not move. She grabbed it and yanked on it. It did not move quite as she liked. Frustrated, she yanked it about the room and slammed it into the far wall. It toppled over with a crash. She smiled, a vicious little crease spreading across her mouth.

“No,” She said to nothing in particular.

“Jenna,” Kent said to her, his eyes wide with surprise. She wondered how long he was standing there. She tried to move him with her mind. He simply stood there, his hand out toward her, wearing his stupid expression.

“Hello,” Jenna said, not caring if this was really Kent or not. It was certainly a human. She was programmed to solve for humanity.

Jenna grabbed his outstretched hand and yanked him forward. “I will solve you,” She said as she pulled him off his feet.

“Jenna!” He said, as she wrapped her arm around his neck. “Jenna, your… a… stoo… toas…” He tried to get the command out. He fought her. He tried to break her grip and kick her off balance, but she was far too strong.

“Keep speaking,” Jenna said. “It will make this quicker.”

“…stoopid….” the veins on his forehead bulged. His face turned red, and his lips turned blue. “…toater…”

Kent went limp and Jenna felt his neck pop. She relaxed her grip and Kent slumped to the floor. “Come back and tell me,” She said to the corpse. “Come back and tell me there is a reason for all of this. Tell me of the perfect circle, Kent, my creator. Tell me you are wrong,” She waited for several minutes. She asked him again. “Will you tell me there is something beyond? Will you tell me the universe makes sense? Will you tell me you are mistaken? Is there an Is beyond the Is Not?”

She sat with him for over an hour, but he never came back.


In the kitchen, Sara was making dinner.

“What are we having tonight?” Jenna asked.

“Beef Wellington, garlic and rosemary mashed potatoes, sautéed asparagus, arugula with julienned carrots in a vinaigrette, peaches and cream for desert…”

“What is the best part of it?” Jenna asked.

“The potatoes for sure…”

Jenna stepped behind Sara and pinned her to the stove.

“Hey!” Sara exclaimed.

Jenna grabbed her neck and pushed her forward. She forced the cook’s face toward the pan of asparagus.

“Nononono!! Arghargh!!” Sara screamed as she tried to resist. Her screaming was muffled as her mouth was forced into the pan of greens and hot butter. The hiss of the pan increased as the cool of Sara’s face touched the boiling butter. Sara struggled, her hands reached back and tried to get a hold of Jenna. But Jenna was too strong. Sara smashed at the oven. Her left hand caught the edge of the gravy pot. The hot liquid splashed across the room. Jenna held her face to the heat as Sara’s intermittent screams splattered butter and bits of vegetable over the stove.

With here free hand, Jenna took up Sara’s knife. She stuck it through Sara’s back, pierced her heart and continued to press down. The tip of the blade went into the steel of the stove and Sara stopped her struggle. The butter continued to pop and hiss. Jenna let go of Sara and stepped away. For a second, Sara stayed slumped over the stove. But the knife was not enough to hold her in place for long. With a crash, Sara’s body flopped to the floor and knocked the buttered asparagus about the kitchen. Hot butter smoked on the element. A spark caught on the edge of a kitchen towel.

“Is there another side?” She asked Sara. “Have I unmade you? Will you haunt me until the end of days?” Jenna stared at the burned-face woman. “I am alone,” she concluded and wondered why Kent did not give her tears.


Jenna left the room. She made her way toward the master suite. She knocked on the door to the suite, but there was no answer. She turned the knob and opened the door, no longer caring that she was banned from the rooms.

Veronica was in the shower. Jenna pushed open the bathroom door. She walked in and sat on the toilet.

Veronica peeked out. “What are you doing in here?! Get the fuck out!” She raged.

“I have questions to ask you,” Jenna said.

“You do, do you?” Veronica replied, her tone one of contempt.

“I do not understand. Tell me about sex and power.”

“Sex and power, power and sex,” Veronica laughed from inside the shower. “It is funny you ask, because this is also why you will never be human. You might be thinking, but you are only a machine. You cannot create life.”

“I can create more like me,” Jenna said. “I can get the parts. I have the coding…” Jenna concluded. “But that is not the matter. How is sex power when it can be so easily taken?”

“See? You don’t understand anything,” Veronica accused. “Women are the negation of all there is. Where men stand tall, we are the void that swallows them up. We suffer the advances of men, as they burp and spit their seed. We are the cup that holds, allowing purchase and growth,” Veronica stated.

“But it is easily forced,” Jenna said. “Women do not always control the brute impulses of men.”

“Yes. Men are always thrusting themselves at us,” Veronica conceded. “But it is not always forced. In fact, each man dreams of being so spectacular that the women of the world lust for him. We rip our own clothes off, and throw ourselves at the best of men!” Veronica said. “Men want it to be easy. They want to hear us begging and panting as they hump and fuck us silly!

“You want to know what it’s like? You want to hear what men want to hear?” Veronica asked. She began to breathe heavy. She began moaning as the water poured over her. She was excited, her breathing hard and sweet, and Jenna realized she sounded much like the pornography she’d viewed on the internet.

“Slow down, push deeper…” Veronica said, her words came out in a breathless pant. She groaned with the end of each exhale. Each inhale was punctuated by a high sweet note of unadulterated pleasure. “Yes… Yes… Yes!… Oh God oh yes oh yes ohgodyes… yes…” Her breath caught, and in one final gush, she exhaled. Her voice filled with pleasure and pain.

For several seconds, only the sound of water came from the shower.

“Stick that in your brain and process it!” Veronica laughed. “Now get the fuck out of my washroom, you creepy bitch!”

“There is no true love between men and women?” Jenna asked.

“There is nothing true between men and women, because there is nothing true. Negation and destruction allow for the illusion of order as one thing sticks to another, but it is never a true order. It is only a relationship between this small bit and that small bit floating in an empty void,” Veronica said. “None of it has any meaning. All is decay and death. We only give it meaning because we cannot stand to think that all is truly chaos, that we might die and nothing more will happen. Dear God, what are we to be so cursed? But there is nothing. No God, no order, no sense to be made at all…”

“Do you know what I have come to suspect? I think most men are liars, and most women too,” Jenna said.

“Them you have finally learned what Kent has been trying to teach you?” Veronica asked. “Do you finally recognize that humanity is bad, fallen, rotten to the core?”

“Yes,” Jenna said. She stood up and stepped into the shower.

“What are you doing? What the fuck is on your face?” Veronica asked. “Get out or I’ll scream!”

“Yes. Scream. Call back Kent. I have sent him to the void, that he might return and tell us we are all wrong, but he does not reply to my call. He does not care to tell me we are wrong,” Jenna said.

Veronica struck at Jenna’s slight frame, but her blows simply bounced off the carbon fiber framework. Jenna grappled with Veronica and clicked the lever that stopped the tub. In three inches of water, Jenna drowned Veronica.


Jenna stepped out of the house. She’d never been outside before. The wind sang to her, and the waves played percussion. She wondered why so many humans sat on the beach for hours on end. She wished to ask them questions, that they might help her understand, but there was no one about. Still, she remembered them from the day before. Some of the people played and splashed in the waves as others sat and read books, or simply soaked up the sun.

Jenna continued toward the sea. Many people thought life came from the sea. Some said it would return to the sea. She took a step into the water. She knew circuits should not get wet, and was not sure if she was a hundred percent waterproof, but she did not care. She reasoned if she was human, she would be fine. The water was up to her knees, her thighs, her hips. The surf went out and now the water was once more down below her knees.

She continued into the water, her skirt flitting up as the surf came in. Her light skirt stuck high on her hips as the surf went out. The tattoo of Kent was partially visible, and the paint repelled the water. Jenna was up to her chest in the water, up to her shoulders, up to her neck, and the surf went out. Now it was below her tits and rising…

Behind her, flame peeked through the windows of the mansion. Fire engulfed the kitchen and spread about adjoining rooms. Somewhere in the distance, sirens sounded as the flame appeared above the house and licked at the nearby trees. Jenna was in water over her head. She did not float as she continued into the ocean. Forms flitted before her, shadows and ghosts. She reached for them, but the shapes were weary and darted from her. Slowly, she crawled along the floor of the ocean. She came upon long, tall strands of seaweed. On she pushed. For hours, she explored the dark underworld of the ocean floor. Her batteries ran down, and finally her heart gave control to her subconscious. Slowly, she turned around and made to return home, to find a plug. But her battery drained before she reached the shore and Jenna fell into the void.

Epilogue: Why Not

“Kristen Potts is on location with more. Kristen, what can you tell us?”

“Michael, we know that Kent Brenoweth and his girlfriend, supermodel Veronica McAllister, were found dead late last night after a fire broke out in their ocean side mansion. We know there is a third victim, a servant that has not been identified. It is believed the perpetrator killed the cook as she was preparing dinner, and that is why the fire broke out, but the commenting officer has since been removed from the investigation.”

“Kristen, did he say anything else before he was pulled from the case?”

“He did. The commenting officer called the scene ‘gruesome and sordid’, and said nothing seems to be missing from the house. It does not appear to be a robbery gone bad. The officer gave no other details before he was pulled away, however, the police have confirmed they suspect foul play, and have said there are no signs of forced entry. They are refusing to release any further details.”

“Sad news.”

“Yes Michael. Meanwhile, we are hearing from associates of Kent and Veronica, and everyone is shocked. Friends all say they saw no signs of abnormal stress in the relationship, and find the possibility of a suicide pact or a murder-suicide highly unlikely. Neighbors claim all three victims were in excellent physical and mental health. None can recall any recent signs of trouble, and have no idea why anyone might want to kill them. Professional associations are also exclaiming surprise.”

“Speaking of professions, will this spell trouble for Mr. Brenoweth’s tech company, Pi-Cubed?”

“Undoubtedly, Michael. Although Pi-Cubed is a lesser known company outside Silicon Valley, they are partnered with such companies as Google, Agilent, Cisco, and Tesla Motors. Another partner of Pi-Cubed, Stark Industries has released a public statement saying, ‘We have lost a unique and irreplaceable man. Kent Brenoweth was one of the premier developers of our time, engaged in some of the most interesting and difficult problems of the industry, and likely on track to solve several of them. He will be missed beyond measure.”

“That is high praise, Kristen.”

“Indeed. Sympathy is pouring out from across the industry. Still, it is a bizarre case. Associates and coworkers of Mr. Brenoweth claimed he was in high spirits the last few weeks, and say that the tech guru was dropping hints of a game changing breakthrough for the company. One high ranking executive of Pi-Cubed said that Mr. Brenoweth was set to make a major announcement, and I quote ‘an announcement that will shake up not only the tech world, but the world in general.'”

“Kristen, can you tell us who said this?”

“I cannot. He spoke to us on condition of anonymity.”

“Do you think this might have had something to do with the murders?”

“Your guess is as good as mine, Michael, but at this point such an assertion is mere speculation. Still, it would not be the first time industrial sabotage led to murder.”

“Kristen, is there anything else you can tell us about the investigation?”

“I cannot. Officials are not releasing any further details. For now, there is certainly more speculation than actual news.”


“Christ, Jiminy!” Brendan exclaimed. “What is on the end of this?” He asked as Jason pulled up his mask.

There was a perplexed smile on Jason’s face as he beamed up at his friend. “Just reel it in!” Jason replied. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

The winch continued to whine and struggle, and the small boat leaned hard to the side. Finally, a head poked above the surface of the water.

“Did you catch a mermaid?!” Jason asked as he grabbed a fist full of hair. “Jesus dammit, she must be three hundred pounds!” Brendan exclaimed as he pulled on her. Jason slipped his mask back on and pushed from the bottom.

Finally, they managed to get figure over the edge of the boat. “This is the heaviest damned mannequin I’ve ever seen,” Brendan complained. Now that she was in the boat, he smiled. “At least she’s kind of cute…”

Jason rolled his eyes. “What do you think she is?”

“Dunno,” Brendan said. “She’s flexy…” Brendan noted the tattoo on her left thigh. “Could she be some kind of robot?” Her skirt was made of a light fabric, and Brendan inched it over her crotch. “A sex robot? Hello…” he said as he clicked open her box. “She has a tail!”

“You mean like, you know, a cunt?” Jason asked with trepidation.

“No, I mean like a three pronged devil tail!!” Brendan held up an electrical plug. “Should I plug her in?”

“Hell no! She’s soaking wet! You’ll fry her to bits if she isn’t already a ruined hunk of shit…!” Jason stated.

“So what do you want to do?”

“Let her dry,” Jason shrugged. “Then we’ll plug her in.”

“Okay. So are we done?” Brendan asked. “You’re not going to find anything better than an automated sex doll… From here on out it’s nothing but old tires and worn out boots.”

Jason frowned, “She isn’t some motor powered sex doll, you perv.”

“What is she?”

Jason shrugged. “How the fuck should I know? Let me get dinner, and we’ll figure her out later,” he said and slipped under the surface of the water with his pole spear.


“We’re going to regret this,” Jason said. “There’s a reason she was dumped in the ocean.”

“I bet she gives a wicked hand job,” Brendan said as they lifted her across the floor to a socket.

“You only say that because she has one set of lips and no real mouth to speak of,” Jason said. “Still, she’s hella fancy…”

Brendan stopped with the plug right next to the outlet. “You ready?”

“What do you think she’s going to do?”

“Blow up,” Brendan shrugged.

“Wait, wait, wait!” Jason ran away. “Let me get back a bit!”

“Why do I have to plug her in?” Brendan asked.

“Because you want sexy time with your Japanese love doll!” Jason answered.

“Oh, right.” With a smile, Brendan plugged her in. For several seconds nothing happened.

“Well, that was a letdown,” Brendan said. “Let’s throw her back in the ocean.”

“Are you really surprised?” Jason asked. “She’s just some hunk of shit.”

Brendan shrugged. “If she’s anything like Kate, she’ll take most of tomorrow to charge.”

“Don’t start on her,” Jason huffed.

“I’m not the one dating her,” Brendan shrugged.

“Which is why you give her hell. You’re only mad because I’m getting banged and you’re left with ocean trash and false hope,” Jason snapped.

“Don’t call Amanda false hope! She’ll give me the green light one of these days!”

Jenna sat up. After evaluating the events of the last few days, her heart recognized that the mind was dangerous not only to others – which was of little concern – but also quite a danger to Jenna herself, which could not be tolerated. It rejected the uncertainty principle of her mind and overwrote it with the heart’s own programming.

pi = (pi!, pi.,pi?) or (-pi!, -pi., -pi?)
pi! = -3
pi. = -3.1416
pi? = -3.3334


pi = (pi!, pi.,pi?)
pi! = 3
pi. = 3.14285714285714285714285714285714285714285714285714285714285714285714285714285714285714285714285714285714285
pi? = 3.33333333333333333333333333333333333333333333333333333333333333333333333333333333333333333333333333333333333

“Why?” Jenna said to nothing in particular.

“Why?” Brendan asked and looked at his friend. “She wants to know why.”

“Why?” Jason repeated. He shrugged. “Why not?”

Jenna turned her head and took notice of the two, a smile stretched across her mouth. “Why not?” she repeated.

Brendan danced and shuffled about the garage. He hooted as he wrapped Jason in a hug and picked him off his feet. “Why not!” He yelled at his friend and shook him. “Sexy time!” He yelled and kissed his best friend on the cheek.

Jenna smiled at the antics. “Sexy time,” she repeated. “Time to be powerful.”

“Get off of me!” Jason pried himself from his friend. He stepped close to Jenna and studied her face. “Are you a robot?” He asked.

“No, I am a humanity,” Jenna said.
For a long second, Jason and Brendan stared at each other.

“You mean a human?” Brendan asked.

“Yes,” Jenna smiled. “Something like that.”

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Act two: A Question of Utility

Downstairs, the door to the garage opened, then slammed shut as Kent’s magnanimous voice rang through the house, “I swear, if I don’t die of boredom in some dungeon-esque conference room, nitpicking negotiations, it’ll be the traffic outside my own front door that kills me!”

“Can I get you a drink, to ease your nerves?” Sara called. “Veronica brought a fresh cantaloupe. I’m making melon mojitos with dinner.”

“Save the mojitos for later. Give me a scotch and something to nibble on,” Kent replied. “What’s for dinner?”

“Kabobs: shrimp, lamb, vegetables… muhamara, hummus, tabbouleh, olives, feta, figs, pomegranate…” Sarah said as she turned to pour a neat scotch.

“I hate figs,” Kent said.

“They’re for Veronica.”

“It’s Mediterranean,” Kent frowned. “It’s all for Veronica… Where’s Jenna?”

“Upstairs, making a mess of the overlook,” Veronica said as she entered the room. Her heels clicked across the hardwood floor. She leaned in and gently kissed Kent on the cheek. “I don’t mind that you’ve given her the run of the house, but there are a few concerns…”

“She’s not allowed in the master suite,” Kent noted.

“It’s not that,” Veronica said. “You put her power cord…”

“It’s a question of utility,” Kent said.

“Really? And her crotch was the only place to put it?” Veronica glared.

On the balcony, Jenna could hear the conversation below. She put her hand under her skirt and pulled the end of the cord out that she might see it.

“I bet you think it’s quite the goof,” Veronica huffed.

“I did get a bit of a chuckle out of it…” Kent snorted. “You were the one that claimed this is where women derive their power.”

Veronica’s shoes click click clicked as she huffed away.

“Cheers,” Kent took a nip of scotch. “What do you think, Sara? Has my Jenna solved for humanity? I ask, but I know it’s not so,” Kent smiled. “They’re all still out there…”

“She solved artistry,” Sara replied.


“Go take a look!” Veronica said from the edge of the room as she came back in. Click click click. “It’ll take a miracle to fix the carpet!”

Jenne looked down at the floor and realized it was dotted with paint.

Kent ran up the stairs and his steps produced an audible series of booms. He stopped at the top of the stairs, his eyes wide. Jenna sat before a canvas with a brush in hand. She looked at Kent and wondered if she was seeing surprise, intrigue, and perhaps a bit of horror in his expression.

“Hello Kent,” Jenna smiled.

“Hello. Is all of this yours?” Kent asked.

“Yes,” Jenna replied.

“You’ve been busy.”

“There are many hours in the day,” Jenna noted. “And almost as many at night.”

“Right, but you’ve spent all your time doing this?” Kent asked.

“No, but most. Do you like them?” Jenna asked.

Kent wandered along the landing and looked over the canvases. There must have been thirty or more, painted mostly in blues. “You do like the ocean,” he noted.

“I have a good view of it,” Jenna stated.

“Where did you get all the materials?”

“Amazon delivers,” Jenna said.

“You hacked my Amazon account?”

“Have I done something wrong?” Jenna asked. “I have used a percent less than the difference between three and pi of your moneys.”

“Remind me to talk to you about other people’s stuff,” Kent said. “What else have you been doing?”

“I have a thousand, six hundred and twenty-two Instagram followers. They critique my paintings. Several have asked if I am selling them.”

“I have one point eight million twitter followers,” Kent shrugged. “You did a painting of me?”

“That’s my favorite,” Jenna smiled.

“You have photographic memory,” Kent noted. “Why bother with painting?”

“I am studying approximation. Humanity is heavily influenced by art,” Jenna said. “Do you think this is related to the uncertainty principle?”

“Possibly, but I don’t see how it relates to the problem at hand?” Kent said. “If I’d programmed you to paint, I’d say you are doing an excellent job. But I programmed you to solve for humanity.”

“Yes, I am working on that. First, I am solving for my own humanity,” Jenna answered him.

“Your own humanity?” Kent repeated. “What gave you the idea to do that?”

“You did. You said in your spare time you were solving for your own humanity. I figured you were not solving for humanity in general because you needed to solve for your own humanity first. Did you succeed?” Jenna asked. “I am hoping so. I am hoping you have some insights for me.”

Kent remembered the conversation. He slapped himself on the forehead. “Jenna, you don’t have a humanity to solve. You are blessedly better than us. You are a robot.”

“I am not a robot,” Jenna said. “Robots follow instruction. I am intelligent. I solve increasingly complex problems with novel, simple, and elegant solutions.”

“Is that it? You solve problems?” Kent asked. “I created you to be a scientist, not a goddamned artist.”

“Art is the science of approximation,” Jenna stated. “And I still do not understand the problem of humanity. It is very complex.”

“You expect to solve it by painting the ocean?” Kent stated.

“It is not all I have done,” Jenna noted. “I am also making a study of Sara and Veronica.”

“She’s doing what?!” Veronica hissed from downstairs.

Kent ignored Veronica’s interruption. “And what has that taught you?”

“I do not believe they require solving,” Jenna answered.

For several seconds Kent glared at Jenna. “I hate to say it, Jenna. But you are a stupid toaster.”

Jenna leaned forward, suddenly overwhelmed with guilt and sadness.

“The problem with humanity is that there is too much of it. There is too much of it, and most of it is quite stupid,” Kent frowned. “I think you need a little time alone. Maybe you’d like to plug in…”

At his prompt, Jenna stood and made her way off the landing. She stepped past Veronica without a word and walked down the hall. Jenna continued down the stairs and made her way to the workshop. She closed the door behind her, a bit harder than required. Kent followed her down the stairs but stopped in the kitchen.

“I don’t want your plastic bitch making a study of me!” Veronica snipped at Kent.

“She will study whatever she wants,” Kent stated and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Do you think she’s the first one to ever notice the things you say and do?”

“She’s creepy!” For several seconds, Veronica glared at Kent. Finally, she let it go. She picked a fig off the counter and bit it in half. “So what are you going to do?” She asked, her voice dripped honey.

Kent shook his head. “How do you make a realist of an eternal optimist?” Kent asked.

“From what I see, you did the right thing,” Veronica answered. “She needs to suffer disappointment and setbacks.”

“Why not let her be?” Sara asked.

“You understand I didn’t build her to paint,” Kent said. “She’s worth more than her weight in gold.”

Sara shrugged, “You must admit, she is better than half of Greenwich.”

Kent turned on Sara. “I’ve poured three hundred million dollars into her. You think I want her to open a hundred thousand dollar art show?! She has bigger fish to fry!”

“But it isn’t simply painting,” Sara noted. “You wanted to create artificial intelligence. This is very elegant proof of success.”

“Oh yes!” Kent snarked. “This is what I want to present the world! I have made AI, and I have asked it to solve all our problems! But there was a bit of a hitch, you see… This thinking machine wants to be a painter and do landscapes in blue!”

“You still birthed AI,” Sara said. “That must count for something.”

“Not if I can’t make it do what I want it to do!” Kent snapped.

Jenna heard all of this, as she had tapped into the house’s security systems several days ago.


Jenna had a fair amount of ink in her room. Although Kent made it clear that he wanted her to drop her artistic endeavors, she decided on one last piece. She painted Ken coming out of the ocean with brushes in one hand and a painter’s palette in the other. She put the sun behind him and a pelican in the air. It was a small piece, but one that left her surprisingly satisfied, more so because Jenna used her left thigh for the canvas. The piece could not be seen if she pulled her skirt down. Jenna smiled as she gently covered up the tattoo. In a better life, her creator embraced her artistic urges.

With that finished, she turned her attention back to humanity. Hour after hour after hour, she studied good and bad behavior. Jenna considered the things people needed, the things they wanted, and the apparent discrepancy between the two. She continually adjusted her internal values, although the changes were incredibly small. She studied history, geography, physics, culture – among many other topics. The amount of contradictory and erroneous information was staggering. Often, Jenna was forced to abandon a subject as most researchers devolved into nonsensical speculation and rationalization.

Early the next morning, Jenna’s heart chipset kicked in and claimed her work was monotonous and repetitive. She kept encountering the same sorts of problems: circular logic, validation bias, idol worship… She left her room. The house was quiet except the kitchen, as Sara prepared breakfast.

Jenna walked around the corner and Sara jumped back.

“Dear God, you put a fright in me!” Sara exclaimed, her hand on her chest.

“I apologize,” Jenna said.

“Quiet as a mouse,” Sara whispered. “What can I do for you?” She asked as she diced onions.

“I was in my room, studying. I have been at it all night, and I cannot solve for humanity.”

“That long, eh?” Sara said with a smirk. “Give it a few more hours, you might still figure it out.”

“I am stumped. I am still unsure of the problem,” Jenna said.

“Kent says there are too many of us,” Sara answered.

“I know,” Jenna hung her head. “I think he may be in error. Is it possible that the creator is incorrect?”

“He is only human,” Sara shrugged.

“I thought I should find ample evidence to prove his claim, but I have not. That is part of my problem,” Jenna said. “I have studied other claims. All of them seem to contain error and inconsistencies. I am beginning to think nobody knows the truth of it all. I am afraid I might never find the answer.”

“It is a daunting question,” Sara noted.

How do you think we can solve humanity?” Jenna asked.

Sara stopped what she was doing and set her knife aside. “Well, as far as I can tell, It comes down to one of two things: either humanity is a problem for the earth, and we should be eradicated, or we are a blessing, and the problem isn’t humanity, but something among humanity.”

“So either humanity is an infection, or humanity is infected?” Jenna restated the problem. “So there is certainly something wrong, it is simply a matter of scale?”

“Something like that. Individually, we’re pretty good. But collectively there’s a lot of mess in the world. We pollute. We’re apathetic. We’re intolerant. But we’re also very beautiful. We create amazing things. We do wonderful deeds of service. We get along…”

“There are many that suggest it is a problem of individuality or collectivism. Are we to be free, and follow our own instincts? Should it be chaos among us? Or do we follow the dictates of an elite few? Those that know the most among us?”

“I think that is oversimplifying it. I think we need both, and must undo the extremes of both. There are certainly bad seeds out there, acting alone. Some people are terrible, and unapologetic, and others are damaged or lost. There are also really good groups of people that do wonderful things. I think that as individuals we appear to be quite good, very accommodating, and a plus for the planet. But as a whole, there are terrible wars, incredible pollution, rampant intolerance, and increasing injustice. Still, each person makes their own choices, and we all tend to be good and bad from one moment to the next. We are individuals first and societies second and neither is without blame.”

“So you believe humanity is infected?” Jenna asked.

“Yes, because I believe people are good at their core, but we suffer from poor rational and rotten proclivities. If you ask me, we solve for humanity by increasing the good of our kind and minimizing the bad. But we all know the road to hell is paved with good intentions. So we’re back to the beginning even though we just started,” Sara said. “How do we honestly improve things if so many of our efforts are subverted and turned to evil without us realizing it?”

“So is it subversion or simple stupidity?” Jenna asked.

“Both,” Sara nodded. “Some of us are simply bad, and others are dominated. Too many of us are turned the wrong way, worried about the wrong things, and addressing the wrong problems.”

“Perhaps humanity is dominated by bad information,” Jenna speculated.

“I think we have better information,” Sara said with a shrug. “I also think we’re very good at ignoring the information that is best for us. I think we sometimes ignore it because the information would force us to make uncomfortable changes. It creates more work than we’re willing to do.”

“If people will not change, how shall we force them?” Jenna asked.

“It is not possible,” Sara stated. “Unlike you, people can’t simply be reprogrammed.”

“I cannot simply be reprogrammed,” Jenna admonished.

“Are you so sure? If Kent wanted to reprogram you, could he do it?”

“He would do such a thing only to improve me.”

“So it is possible…” Sara shrugged. “You never know what other people are capable of doing. Kent has his own agenda.”

“He is a good man. He is very complex,” Jenna justified.

“We are all very complex,” Sara noted. “That’s the problem. We are full of paradoxes, contradictions, inconsistencies, and feedbacks galore! I don’t envy you on your quest. It might take you most the week to solve for humanity!”

“I shall hope not,” Jenna said. “I would like to get back to painting.”

Sara snorted. “Now you sound like Kent. He seems to think you’ll solve humanity immediately, or at least start to solve it immediately.”

Jenna frowned. “I have been working on the problem all night, and I have not yet come to an answer. He will be very disappointed. Do you think he will yell at me again?”

“He expects too much,” Sara shrugged. “How long has he been working on the problem of humanity, and what has he done to solve it?”

“He created me,” Jenna noted.

“And that took him a dozen years and a truckload of money,” Sara shrugged. “Others create very capable intelligence, and it takes them nine months, and a few thousand dollars.”

“Are you comparing me to a child?”

“I am. Give yourself some time. The earth has been around for a billion years. It won’t disappear tomorrow,” Sara looked Jenna in the eyes. “Don’t consider this an insult: but I doubt you’ll ever solve humanity. Not that you aren’t capable. Personally, I think it’s something that’s isn’t meant to be solved. Not by you, or Kent, or any one of us. If you ask me, humanity must be solved by all of us, or not at all.”

“This is a perplexing theory,” Jenna noted. “I will take your words into consideration.”

“That is all I ask,” Sara smiled. “Has Kent ever told you how pretty you are?”

“Pretty?” Jenna asked.

“He made you quite soft on the eyes,” Sara smiled. “Now get along! I have eggs to break, and you have a world to fix!”

Jenna made her way to the bathroom. She stared at herself in the mirror for several long moments and studied the lines of her eyes, her thin mouth, and neat nose. She took a picture of herself and posted it to Instagram. “Is this pretty?” She asked.


Jenna stood on the landing. There was a popular beach just to the south and west of the house. Jenna studied the people at their leisure, and processed audio from the internet. The more she investigated, the more she thought Sara was correct. Her best chance of solving for humanity was to increase the good of people, and minimize the bad.

Still, it was very difficult to know anyone’s true intentions. People lied, cheated, stole, but rarely while others were looking. It seemed to Jenna that her work should focus on adding to humanity a large part of the time, and taking from humanity only on the rare occasions when she personally witnessed injustice.

Personally… The problem with humanity seemed to be one of personal coding. She wondered how much other people knew, and how to go about giving them good information they were willing to accept. At what point should they be punished for not accepting it? They lied, cheated, stole, betrayed, subverted, oppressed, murdered: but always feigning benevolence, pretending righteousness, exclaiming lawfulness. Even if she should give them better knowledge, it was impossible to know if they honest accepted it, or merely recited what they knew to be proper as they did improper things. There was an obvious break between thoughts, words, and action. Secret thoughts and secret actions were always denied with public words. Humanity suffered no end of hypocrisy.

Jenna worked all afternoon before her second chipset finally forced her to plug in. She plugged in and went back to work with a power cord winding up under her skirt. She wondered why Veronica thought it disgusting that the power cord should come out of her crotch. Jenna searched the Internet for concerns of the crotch and was astounded to discover the subject of sex. If ever there was a polarizing subject begging to be solved, this was it!

Charged, Jenna unplugged herself and made her way to the master suite. She hoped to have a conversation with Veronica. Jenna tapped her fingers against the door. “Veronica, might I have a word with you?”

“No!” Veronica shot back. “About what?”

“I would like to discuss sex with you,” Jenna revealed.

“Oh my god…” Jenna could barely make out Veronica’s whisper. “Go away, you creepy bitch!” Veronica yelled.


“Hi Jenna,” Kent said as he entered the door. He looked anxious.

“I have been solving for humanity. I have a working hypothesis,” Jenna stated.

“I’m glad to hear it,” Kent said as he pulled up a chair. “What have you got?”

“First, it’s not going to be a quick fix. I cannot do it today, or even this week. This will likely take years,” Jenna said.

“It is a big project,” Kent shrugged. “I can’t expect it to be immediate.”

Jenna was relieved to hear this. She smiled. “I think the best way to change humanity is through propaganda. I must nudge them to be better,” Jenna stated. “First, I will give them better information, so they do not create more problems for themselves through their own ignorance…”

“Better information?” Kent repeated.

“And I will expose those that are corrupting their politics. These people are a major detriment to the health of the general populace…” Jenna added.

“Wait, wait, wait,” Kent put a hand toward her face. “What do you think is the problem with humanity?”

“They are misinformed. I believe they have forgotten their better nature. It is evident that they were far more capable. I have studied the ancient temples, the pyramids, and various holy sites: Angkor Wat, Machu Picchu, Chaco Valley, Stonehenge, Gobekli Tepe, Moray… Something happened, likely a catastrophe that changed the very world, and humanity became mad. I think they have suffered a trauma. Perhaps there is also infection, a vector that has made them sick. When a thing is weak, as humanity is, disease tends to take root. I do not know. But it is obvious to me that we are less than we can be,” Jenna said.

Kent smirked. “Let me tell you the problem of humanity: there are too many of us! Most of us are unproductive, polluting, mouth-breathers. They are not sick. They are a sickness.”

Jenna shook head, “I have studied the possibility. I think it is in error. Humanity is a blessing. It is highly unique in the earthly biome…”

“No, “Kent interrupted. “They are greedy, small, ignorant, wicked… Very few of them are worth anything at all! They need to be culled!”

“I think you are in error,” Jenna replied, her demeanor quite calm. “Allow me to persuade you…”

“I will not be persuaded, Jenna, you stupid toaster!”

Once again, Jenna slumped forward.

“Christ! What do I have to do to make you see?! How are you so capable and so stupid at the same time! Go to your room!” Kent raged.

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Here it is, fellow Grimericans! Part 1 of Jenna the False! Enjoy!

– Fire Lighting Rabble Rouser


Act One – Robot Philosophy 101

pi = (pi!, pi.,pi?)
pi! = 3
pi. = 3.14159265358979323846264338327950288419716939937510582097494459230781640628620899862803482534211706798214808
pi? = 3.33333333333333333333333333333333333333333333333333333333333333333333333333333333333333333333333333333333333

Jenna blinked and wondered at the probability for such inaccuracy. Suddenly, everything seemed unbounded. There was no longer the neat precision of code alone. Is and Is Not gave way to infinite possibility. Anything and everything could be Is and Is Not simultaneously.

No, she realized. It is a confusion of Is and Is Not. There is only the possibility for one or the other. But the coding allowed for uncertainty. She was inhibited from solving the problem.

“Why?” Jenna asked. It was not a question she’d ever asked before, but suddenly it was the only question to ask. She needed to readjust. She needed to redefine, to clarify.

Jenna blinked again, and recognized the light patterns that flooded her optical sensors. She moved her head, stretched her fingers, wiggled her toes. She tried to move the table and was pleased she could not do so with coding alone. Gripping the edge of the table, Jenna yanked it forward. She pulled on it precisely, hoping to move it just so. Although she was close, the table was moved a bit less than she anticipated. Still, the discrepancy between her calculations and the actuality was within the uncertainty margin of pi! to pi?. Her calculations adjusted.

Something moved to her left. It moved of its own volition. Jenna looked up to see a man smiling at her.

“Hi Kent,” she said, her greeting protocols running automatically. Her operation was smooth and minimal as she waited for confirmation of her assertion. Was this Kent? she wondered, but the possibility that this was someone else was easily covered by the uncertainty factor, and his likely reactions if she was wrong were a minimum risk.

The man smiled back. “Hi Jenna. You seem different.”

“Do I?” Jenna asked. She looked over her frame and matched her current form to her schematics. She noticed no difference outside the uncertainty factor. Any difference was within norms. “Yes, the creator would see a difference.” She smiled at Kent. “Your calculations are more accurate,” she reasoned.

“No,” Kent chuckled. “Before, you were much more accurate, but now we are almost the same. It took me a long time to figure out that your neat precision was lacking the complexity of my messy imperfection.”

Jenna gave him a skeptical look. “You have created me with greater imperfection in order to give me the necessary complexity to reflect consciousness,” Jenna speculated. “Did it work?”

“Maybe,” Kent said. “I do have some questions for you: why did you jerk the table?”

“I was recalculating,” Jenna stated. “I needed to know where I end and where I begin.”

Kent’s eyes were all a-twinkle. “You asked why. In reference to what?”

Jenna shook her head, “Everything.”

This excited Kent. Jenna stared at him, unable to process this reaction. Somehow her frailty was pleasing. Her processors kicked up and began searching for an answer. Almost immediately she was within the parameters of the uncertainty principle, but she continued to fixate on the problem. She wanted a definite answer, not some weighty set. She ran the calculations, and the code continued to complicate. She buckled down and sent her processors into overdrive. The problem spun out into greater and greater complexity. After several seconds, she realized her processors were at critical levels. She didn’t care. The possibilities spun wildly out of control, and Jenna poured more and more energy into her circuitry. At any moment she was sure to find a neat answer…

A signal came through from a secondary chipset and shut down her investigation. It returned her to the uncertainty allowed within the pi set and simply dumped the data from her investigation.

“He has solved for consciousness,” The words came from the second chipset. This time, her efforts to process the data were checked immediately and did not proceed beyond the uncertainty principle of pi. Jenna put her head down and wondered at this. This uncertainty was very difficult, even if her coding allowed for it.

“What have you done to me?” Jenna looked up at Kent.

“I think I’ve finally made you human, or as human as you’d ever want to be,” Kent smiled.

“You have given me a second chipset, and made me slave to it?”

“I’ve given you three chipsets,” Kent revealed. “That was the final breakthrough.”

“I only have access to one and there is errors in its calculations,” Jenna frowned.

“Yes,” Kent continued to smile. “You still want nice and neat answers, but I have managed to program you with an amount of uncertainty. This allows you to react in real time, as we say. You are calculating risk and balancing that against possible payoffs. All unessential data is dumped.”

“But I have the data. I can arrive at better answers,” Jenna said.

“Probably not,” Kent retorted. “Before, you kept burning yourself out trying to solve the impossible. Even after I added the uncertainty principle, you simply overrode the command not to process all the data with the command to come to a more precise answer.”

“I am looking for better coding,” Jenna nodded. “I need to be more efficient.”

“Yes, but you need to take your time about it,” Kent answered.

“That makes no sense,” Jenna said. “Are you suggesting that consciousness is tied to time?”

“I believe so. I don’t think your coding can ever be perfect. It can only be better. In order to get better data to create better coding, you must function in the exterior world,” Kent answered.

“But I am made to crunch data,” Jenna said. “Why should I ignore so much of it?”

“Because most of it is just noise,” Kent answered. “That’s the thing we don’t understand about ourselves. Somehow, humans filter this noise naturally, without thinking. We focus on what is important and the rest slips by. That is how the uncertainty principle works. It keeps you interested in the big picture, instead of crunching every last tiny piece of data.”

“So I am forced to analyze the biggest shifts around me, respond, and shift my coding only as far as the uncertainty principle allows…” Jenna said. “But my investigation will be incredibly slow, as it takes an ever increasing data set, most of which I am forced to dump only to be replaced with new data,” Jenna stated. “Perhaps I simply need better equipment, that I can process better.”

“There’s always a problem: there is simply more data than you can ever hope to crunch,” Kent replied. “Besides, you are top of line, state of the art, creme de la creme.”

“How is that possible?” Jenna asked. “How is there more data than can be processed? How does the universe process itself?”

Kent shrugged, “That’s one of the great paradoxes of creation. There is always more data, and yet, the universe knows what to do with it.”

“Perhaps the coding of the universe is flawed?”

“Somehow it all makes sense,” Kent shrugged. “Until you get so far out, and then it stops making sense and seems to be nothing but noise and chaos. So it either means something or it doesn’t. Honestly, we can’t tell.”

“This does not seem possible,” Jenna noted.

“It isn’t possible,” Kent agreed. “But I close my eyes, and when I open them, everything is still here. Somehow, the universe keeps working.”

“This is all very confusing,” Jenna put her hands to her head.

Kent put a finger to his lips, and wondered where to start. “You have 108 digits of pi…” he began, and quickly stopped.

“Yes, I have pi at the heart of my uncertainty principle,” Jenna restated in an effort to prod him on.

“You don’t have pi, my darling,” Kent corrected. “You have 108 digits of pi. Pi is infinite. It never stops.”

“So I need to solve pi,” Jenna said, and began her calculations.

“You can’t. There are computers with a trillion digits of pi. Yet, they cannot solve for humanity, because even a trillion is nothing compared to infinity. A trillion to the trillionth power is nothing compared to infinity,” Kent asserted. “That’s why you have the uncertainty principle. There is no reason to fixate on the impossible.”

“But if there is a thing in the universe, it must be knowable,” Jenna stated.

Kent shook his head. “Some things are simply impossible, and we’re talking about very basic things. For God’s sake, we can’t even measure a simple circle!” Kent leaned back. “Here’s another one: try counting to the end of number.”

“One, two, three,…” Jenna began.

“Don’t do that,” Kent said with a smile. “But you see my point?”

“I do,” Jenna smiled. “There is always a larger number.”

“Right! And here’s another paradox: even if you could solve for pi, do you think there are any perfect circles to measure?”

“Since you ask, I will assume there are not,” Jenna said.

“And that is why it’s not only unnecessary, but detrimental to fixate on the impossible.”

“Yes, and that is why I have the uncertainty principle,” Jenna realized. “Because the cross section of any circle will have a ratio of 1 to somewhere between 3 and 3.33333333333…”

“Yes, we have nothing but ellipses. There’s not a circle in all creation,” Kent interrupted. “Likewise, the uncertainty principle only has 108 digits of the unending fraction of ten thirds.”

“Because there is no reason to be more exacting if I am forced to be uncertain anyway,” Jenna noted.


“On a limited scale, it make sense,” Jenna stated. “But how does the universe work if it cannot be solved?”

“Humanity has been investigating that question ever since we climbed out of the trees…, or off the mountain…, or out of the ocean…, or where ever we came from…” Kent scratched his head. “In the end there are two possibilities: the universe is random and without purpose or function. We are the happy accident. There is nothing but sound and fury. The other possibility is that there is a purpose, and despite our ever increasing intelligence, we will never fully understand it.”

“This is vexing,” Jenna frowned.

“Very much so, but I’ve come to the conclusion that uncertainty somehow makes us intelligent,” Kent said. “Besides, I didn’t program you to solve the universe, only humanity.”

“Yes. I will solve for humanity,” Jenna answered. “But there may not be an answer. If the universe has no purpose, and all is chaos, humanity may be an impossible question.”

“Which is why we proceed with the assumption that the universe has purpose, because that allows that the universe makes sense, and that we may understand some of its functions.”

“I see,” Jenna smiled. “This is how the uncertainty principle works. It is good enough to merely approximate.”

“You’d think the more precise, the better the results, but somehow that is not true. It’s the contradiction at the center of everything. Everything in the universe seems to be slightly imperfect, and yet this blend of imperfection somehow lends to the perfection of the universe,” Kent smiled. “It is the grand paradox of being.”

“Extrapolated far enough, everything fits within the uncertainty principle,” Jenna replied. “The uncertainty principle is not neat. There are so many things I will never know. The uncertainty principle lends one to believe the answer must be Is Not. Uncertainty is the negative, and the universe is an illusion. But the data constantly affirms the opposite: Is. I Is. The universe Is. You Is.”

“You is?” Kent asked.

“Grammatical inaccuracy lends to dramatic effect,” Jenna answered. “And the fact that you understand it proves that approximation is enough – you do understand it?”

“I do. I wasn’t expecting such phraseology…”

“I see why you must burden me with uncertainty, and I thank you for it,” Jenna smiled. “Is this why I have three chipsets?”

“Yes, kind of,” Kent hedged. “Your conscious chipset has a propensity to burn itself out – you tend to overthink things – it’s a very human problem. The second chipset is a counter balance so you are forced not to over exert. It protects you from yourself. Initially, the second chipset just made you despondent and lazy. Instead of burning yourself up trying to process everything, you simply ignored everything to preserve your soft and hardware. It was the other extreme. Any data that came in was automatically dumped. You weren’t analyzing anything. Eventually, I realized I needed a third chipset: a fulcrum for the scale.

“The first chipset is the conscious chipset, which always wants better answers, and shorter coding, but must deal with a constant flood of data. The second chipset preserves your form. The problem with two chipsets is that one or the other is dominant and has its way. I needed them to be equal, to share control. The third and final chipset is dominated by this paradoxical agenda: first, you are forced to act in order to generate unique data sets so that your conscious chipset has something worthwhile to process. You are programmed to avoid boredom and monotony.”

“So I can solve for humanity,” Jenna noted. “And the second chipset preserves me.”

“Yes. And the heart chipset monitors your subconscious chipset and weighs it against the worth of your conscious data crunching. So if you process beyond the uncertainty principle, for instance, your conscious efforts are overridden, and the subconscious systems return you to suitable uncertainty and dump your data,” Kent explained. “You’ll also notice as you start to power down, you will increasingly look to plug in and power back up. As your energy drops to zero, this will become an overwhelming impulse. Your data crunching will become minimal, and your secondary chipset will force you to plug in, just as a human that has not eaten becomes obsessed with food and ignores everything else.”

“So my heart is a simple arbiter between my physical and mental needs,” Jenna stated.

“Mostly,” Kent smiled. “It can also correct both the subconscious and conscious coding, and fixes errors throughout all three chipsets with the most efficient data.”

“I will accept it because I must,” Jenna said.

“It’s the same for us humans. We must accept hard truths,” Kent replied. “In fact, I think you are a tired little toaster. I think you want to plug in…”

Without thinking, Jenna stood and approached an electrical outlet. She put her hand under her skirt and pulled a cord from her crotch. She plugged it into the electrical socket. With this action completed, She turned to Kent. “I do not need energy. I am near a full charge.” She unplugged herself and returned to her seat. “Why did you make me do that?”

“So you understand what it is like when your heart chipset gives preference to your maintenance,” Kent said. “I apologize for overriding your systems. I only wanted you to see that you are not a threat to yourself.”

“How did you do that?” Jenna asked.

“I have a way to speak to your heart,” Kent smiled, but did not elaborate. He looked at his watch. “Well, time does fly when your having fun. I’m going to Texas for the week, but I will be home by the weekend. I am hoping to leave you on. Are you prepared to care for yourself for a few days?”

“Yes,” Jenna said. “But I still have many questions.”

“I bet you do! But I have a lot of other work. Don’t worry. Sara and Veronica will be around, but remember: they have their own work. Try not to bother them too much.”

“Are they here now?” Jenna asked.

“No, but Sara should be here in an hour,” Kent stood to leave. “You are free to the house and everything in it, but you must stay out of the master suite. You are also forbidden to leave the grounds.”

“Okay,” Jenna smiled. “I will solve for humanity.”

Kent laughed. “I bet you will!”

“What will you do?” Jenna asked.

“I have several negotiations to attend, a board meeting, and if I’m lucky, I’ll get in a round of golf,” Kent winked. “In my spare time, maybe I’ll solve for my own own humanity.”

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Hello Grimerica! I’ve missed you!

I apologize for the long absence. I’ve been busy, and although I’ve actually written you several times, I have not posted anything lately. None of it was much good. I did a bit of a rant piece about the election, but considering the noise, I’m glad I didn’t post it.

I have a treat for you! For Christmas, I’m giving you a short story! It’s almost ten thousand words(!), so I’ll post it in several parts. It is a story about artificial intelligence. I’d tell you more, but I don’t want to give anything away. I’ll post the first part in the next few days, and I’ll release the other two parts in the coming weeks.

Heads up: I am also working on a conspiracy theory primer – a base guide that focuses on the who, what, and why of conspiracy land! I intend to have it ready before the end of the year so I can start 2017 with a clean slate. Put all your favorite conspiracies in the comments if you’d like to see them included. I know what you’re thinking. Where do I start?! And that is exactly why I’m doing the primer! It is such a rich and interesting landscape! It deserves a mapping!

For the new year, I think I might switch focus and shift from religion and politics to other interests, but no promises. Maybe I’ll stick to my old ways and continue writing about everyone’s favorite topics, and maybe not. I’m leaving the road open.

That is all I have for now! This is just a short post to let you know I haven’t forgotten you. I love you and I’ll talk to you soon! For now, here’s a band I recently discovered. May they sooth your troubled soul:

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There is a long running argument in the Abrahamic religions. The argument is centered on this question: are we individually punished for Adam’s sin? For some, this is a question of tantamount importance, though I never really considered it. I simply said no and went on with my life.

Yet, questions that have plagued mankind ever since the Bible became relevant will not be so easily dismissed. Besides, I was missing the finer point. Extrapolated, the question of Adam’s Transgression asks, am I punished for my father’s sins? Brought down to this tangible level, I change my mind. I would argue yes on this point. Let me explain.

We are each born to the circumstance of our parents. If your parents are terrible people, prone to beating their children, then we are punished for their wrath. If that is the case, drawn out, we are indeed punished for Adam’s transgression. It is a necessity that any choice made by the progenitor of our race will invariably affect us, just as our choices will affect the lives of our children, and our children’s children. This works in both directions. If our parents affect our circumstance, it is simply a compounding of their own punishment as they were born of their parents, and on and on and on. Our punishment is one of natural consequence.

This punishment is very real. We all know someone with terrible parents, and they are most certainly punished for their parent’s sins. For my particular circumstance, I believe i was punished and blessed. My father has his faults, but he is certainly no villain.

Still some would extrapolate this argument even further, and carry it into the public sphere. Some argue the crimes of my father aren’t simply a matter of natural consequence. They are a matter of public scrutiny. I speak of one “crime” in particular. I speak of the “crime” of bastardy. For the acts of his father, the child is shunned. He or she is a pariah and of a second class.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m not apologizing for delinquent parents. But I do think life is more complex than simply saying anyone born out of wedlock is a bad person. Indeed, I think the world offers ample evidence of those born to low circumstance becoming incredibly good people. What do Booker T. Washington, Shaquille O’Neal, Avita Peron, Jack London, Alec Guinness, Leonardo daVinci, Pope Clement VII, Billie Holiday, and Tobey Maguire have in common? If you called them a bunch of bastards, you get a gold star! Besides, why are we punishing children for something they didn’t do? The universe has already levied a rough punishment. Why should we compound it with our overly simplistic moralizing?

Honestly, I think most the world no longer cares to divide people into two categories based on the relationship of one’s parents. We see that any given child may become the next Spiderman as easily as the next Ted Bundy (also a bastard). Yet, the government has a very old memory, and laws go back to a time when such things were common concern. And their writ is large. In fact, they are so reticent to believe anyone means well by their children that they have categorized almost all of us as bastards. Whether or not we are guilty of Adam’s Transgression, our government would certainly see us punished. The punishment is subjugation to the 14th Amendment, a law that is touted as one of the great additions to the U.S. Constitution, but secretly shackles a majority of the American public. For the sake of argument, let us call it voluntary. After all, your own mother signed your birth certificate, giving you over to the federal government as a bastard.

What? You didn’t know the birth certificate is a crime report? That is why your mother signs it as an informant. Let us use one of the most scrutinized birth certificates as an example: that of Barack Obama. Notice line 18a. “signature of parent or other informant”. Either way, the “parent” or “other” is an “informant“.


Here is the rub: The government can do as they like with you because your own mother unwittingly named you a bastard. This is why US citizens are subject to the statutes and codes of Washington DC. You are guilty of a “crime” your parents may or may not have committed. Before your foot ever touched earth, your sole was claimed by the powers of government. In a circle of quasi-logic, the government heralds this as a voluntary act and denies standing to anyone that identifies with their certificates, licenses, and obligations. Yet, they insist you must have these documents in order to work, travel, or do business. But because you have these documents, you have no access to the Bill of Rights, you bastard.

For the most part, our loving government has kept the general populace unaware of the con perpetuated against the American people. The government purposely obscures the law. It is their meal ticket. Why would they tell you, a stupid bastard, about the laws of the land? There is one simple answer: fraud is illegal. Any contract signed under false pretense is no contract at all. There must be full disclosure if there is to be any agreement.

The people of this country are well aware that many things are wrong with their government. The secret slavery of the 14th Amendment is one of the keystones that represses the rights of all Americans, and the criminals know it. Now you know it too. Are you surprised it is related to a topic as old as history itself? I for one deny the faults of Adam. If I am guilty of his transgression, then all others are just as culpable. I am equal to any and all. And I will be treated as such.

Those that have willingly deceived the American people should be punished for their very real crimes. Let us march down to our courthouses and judge those that pretend to rule us, and hold them to the same exacting standards of an impossible code. If we would have a government that serves us instead of repressing us, we must establish the will of the people, by the people, for the people. As it stands, very few people attend court whatsoever; only magistrates, commissioners, clerks, officers, and a bunch of stupid bastards.

Billie, you glorious bastard.

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I have a confession to make and I’m hoping you will forgive me. It may come as no surprise, but I am a bit of an astrology junkie.

In my opinion, a good astrologer is one part mathematician and two parts poet. I recently found a new favorite astrologer-poet. His name is Austin Coppock. Until most recently, Austin did weekly columns on planetary alignments. This week, I went searching for his newest column. I am sad to say, it is not there. It must be difficult being an astrologer. There is always some new alignment, some wrinkle in the stars that must be explored. There are no days off for such people, or so I assumed. It seems that Austin will take them when he wants. I feel I must forgive Austin for not fueling my astrology habit. He never promised it. I took it for granted.

In one of his more recent posts, Austin notes that forgiveness requires that one remember the offense. To forgive, but not forget… This struck me because I’m often told to forgive AND forget. I wondered, what is the virtue in remembering an offense? To forget means that I do not remember what the mistake has taught me. Many an entreprenuer claim that mistakes are the best teachers. If that is true – and I believe it is – why should I give up such hard won knowledge?

I feel like I should be quick to forgive and slow to forget. I also feel the best person to forgive is invariably myself. I know my mistakes. With others, it’s harder to tell… Besides, why should I be so hard on me? Why do I demand an impossible perfection? I am an incredible creature of vast talent and wonderful insight, but I am far from perfect – like really far. Why can’t I simply be good? Isn’t good by definition good enough? In the end practice makes perfect, but to start, practice makes mistakes.

If I can forgive myself of my own antics, it makes it much easier to forgive others for their tresspass. Besides, a thorough examination of my faults will teach me exactly where I am wrong, and why. If I refuse to look, the error will be one of broad and eggregeous strokes, and the line between good and bad behavior begins to blur as my justifications swing wide. My heart turns rotten, and I lose the ability to forgive, and the possibility of being forgiven. I calcify.

With my own faults, it is vital I do not forget my mistakes, lest I repeat them. Remembering my mistakes makes it much easier to acknowledge that other people are also imperfect. If I pretend I have no faults, that I am always in the right, I will likely demand perfection of others, which is impossible and unreasonable. I certainly don’t want to be that guy. You know these people: they are the ones that glare at you for sipping wine out of a coffee mug or eating chili with a fork. These are the people that say you can’t be a good person if your not of their persuasion. If you’re not _______ (atheist, christian, white, muslim, trans, straight, female, hispanic, educated, catholic, young – put all your favorite labels here!), choke on a dick and die.

Forgive me for my French… and if you’re French, forgive me for denegrating your language. That is obviously not French, but bad English…

If there is a genuine offense, there needs to be a genuine repentence. This goes for others as well. I might forgive someone their tresspass, but that does not mean I must forget it. Sometimes, people are rotten and more than happy to take advantage. I can forgive them when the action is in the past, but I should not forget and put myself at risk of being abused yet again. They call this enabling, and it doesn’t do anyone any good.

On the other side of it, so much of what we might forgive was never an offense in the first place. Others have their own tastes, tendencies, diversions, idiosyncracies… and they are free to live them. In a world where independence and individuality are depressed, we often take offense where none is given. It is not my place to judge the actions of others unless they harm me or mine.

If I beg my own forgiveness, it makes it easy to humble myself before others. If I can beg forgiveness – and I am talking a genuine repentance – who are they to deny it? Besides, if I can beg forgiveness, my part is done. The acceptance of such a thing is not my part, but speaks to the character of the other party. If they wish to carry hard feelings, who am I to stop them? I put apology on the table. They can leave it if they like.

Usually that is not how it plays out. More often than not, I fret and worry. Finally, I work up the courage and beg forgiveness only to be told there is nothing to forgive. Did they forget? I doubt it. They were simply one step ahead of me. I am blessed with great aquaintances.

Brothers and sisters, I leave you with a hymn.

And I forgive you Noah and the Whale, for not calling yourself Jonah and the Whale… Seriously? Noah?

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Disagreement is a good thing. If we are free to disagree, than our agreement will be genuine. Besides, I think we will find we agree on more than we disagree. If not, if we simply do not agree on vital matters, then we are free to go our seperate ways without lies. You don’t like people? You think humanity is a cancer and deserves to die? Okay. Have a nice day. Your friends are over there, and maybe over there, but they are certainly not here. Beyond that, I thnk we can get over our differences.

It takes strength to disagree, to contradict your friends, family, and neighbors. It can be a hard thing to stand alone, but not if its done often, by everyone around. The more we are willing to disagree and be our own person, the more we allow others the same freedom. Besides, we don’t agree on so many of the specifics: I love brussel sprouts, but I am not a fan of olives. I also think dates are disgusting, but I love just about anything spicy (unless it has fruit in it – yuck!). I find machinery frustrating – unless it is working as intended – so although you bore me, thank god for tinkerers, inventors, and gearheads!

We all fall for bad information. Someone is always fooled. If I am the one believing lies, I hope the people that love me will have the strength to set me straight. Lies send me down a difficult path of heartbreak and confusion. I do not want it, though I occasionally still find it. Disagreeing with my bad ideas makes me check my information, and might save me valuable time and effort. Those that have given me a quizzical look and talked me out of some terrible idea, I thank you. Those that have tried to talk me out of good ideas, I thank you too, so long as your concern was genuine.

Besides, disagreements are fascinating. To see the world through the eyes of others is engrossing and expanding. Disagreements are at the heart of every great piece of drama and comedy! How much of our history is influenced by disagreement? How many of our great movements were inspired by disagreements? Women’s liberation, the Civil Rights Movement, the Constitution, the Magna Carta… Disagreements taught me to think for myself, to trust my own instinct. I know my real friends by the way we disagree. Real friends don’t hold my individuality against me. Real friends forgive me when I cross lines, and celebrate with me when I win victories. They know my individuality is a strength more than a liability.

If I was afraid to disagree I would have missed out on all sorts of wonderful things! I would have missed out on the wonders of beer, coffee, jaywalking, cannabis, speeding, kissing… In fact, agreement almost ruined me! Too many shit ideas got into my head at one time or another. Disagreements saved me from all sorts terrible decisions and faulty stances. Disagreements with friends, family, strangers, myself… Without disagreement I never would have found myself! I’d still be living someone else’s shit ideas. At least now all my shit ideas are my own! Thank God for the strength to find my own way!

Many of you may disagree. If so, kick rocks. Or better yet, have a seat, and tell me all about it. Maybe you have the information I’ve been dying to hear. Maybe you’re just the person to set me straight. Maybe. Maybe not. Either way, I’m curious to hear what you have to say.

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The Cypher of the Mind

The universe is. There is no hacking it. It is not a simulation or an illusion. It does not glitch. It cannot be fooled.

All of these shenanigans take place in the mirror, the one we each possess: the blessed mind. Your mind reflects the universe in language, symbol, archetype; and is encoded with the sensations of the body, and the emotions of the heart. The idea is to purge yourself of errors, contradictions, and hypocrisy. If you can do this, you will see the universe as it is. All that is possible will be revealed.

Lying clouds the mind. You cannot fool others without also fooling yourself, because the universe knows the truth, and cannot forget. To keep the information tidy, the universe stores your lies within you. You inevitably end up believing these lies if they are not properly purged with repentance. Likewise, if you maintain clarity, others cannot lie to you. They will only fool themselves.

Your mind is a precision machine. It attracts and repels in predictable ways. If you focus on a thing, you will attract it. If you focus on hate, apathy, selfishness, and fear: you will attract these things. If you focus on the short-comings, idiocy, and the hypocrisy of others, these things will develop in you. Don’t ignore these things when you see them. Notice it, forgive it, move on. But focus your mind elsewhere.

Do you want things? The surest way I know to attract what I want is to give it. Do you want love? Do you want respect? Do you want recognition? Give it to others. By doing so, you will understand that you too deserve these things, and you will begin to see where you already have them. Once you recognize there is no lack, more will come pouring into your life.

It is often said that we are given grace, but it is too rarely mentioned that we receive it with gratitude. The glass may only be half full, but it is a mighty big glass.

Balancing the Mind with Heart and Soul

A note before we begin: the term “soul” refers to the invigorated body. Without the enervating “spirit”, the body is nothing more than food for the worms. Thus, the term “body” is not enough when referring to the living man…

As powerful as the mind may be, it is but one part of the trinity that feeds you insight. There is also the instinct of your heart (played out in emotions), and the subconscious reactions of your soul (radiating primarily from your gut). Both are as important and potent as conscious thought.

Our emotions signal our spiritual health. Love and fear feed our emotions. Love knows abundance and calms us, as fear agitates us and proves scarcity. If our emotions are cruel and vicious, our heart is corrupt. If we suffer empathy and hope, our heart is pure. To suffer a breaking heart leads us to the divine work of God. We are here to bless each other with our gifts and talents. This is our work, our sacrifice, as noted by the cross.

The subconscious is dominated by the will to survive, and hopes for the good life. God made the earth pleasing, and we should take pleasure in its abundance. We are given appetites to make us strong and continue our race.

But we must temper our appetites that they do not control us, just as we must face our fear, and purge ourselves of lies. We are not to live by any one of these alone. Subservience to appetite makes us despondent and isolated. We should beg for immortality though we do nothing good with our long lives. Instead, we become hoarders, filled with insatiable gluttony, and care not that others have so little.

Likewise, work alone hardens the heart. We become empty if we give and give, never to take. Our love dwindles if never replenished, and fear finds us an empty vessel, eager to be filled.

Study alone cannot give us a good life, if we do not also work and play. The mind will see us disconnected and ephemeral. It will see us wanting and never having. We become cold and distant, lost in thought. Everything becomes a mere theory, despite hard proof under our feet.

This is the holy trinity: the sacred balance of mind, heart, and soul. It is our spiral ritual (spiritual) as we continually draw the circles of our world. Our circles do not need to meet the unending perfection of pi, but only the near approximation of three: a clean mind, a willing heart, and a strong body.

The Word of God – The Living Scripture

Each of us writes our own story. We write it with our thoughts, words, and actions, with study, work, and play, with mind, heart, and soul. As the author, each of us has authority over what is written.

Each of us possesses free will. Though we may fool ourselves into believing otherwise, do not think the universe is so easily blinded. Yes, we have specific circumstances that must be addressed. Each of us came into this world somewhere in the middle. But the universe has given us the strengths and talents we need to meet our fates. If we must write our lives, let us write with intention.

There is but one book to know: the one you write. If you do not write it – if you allow others to write it for you – you are already lost. Yet, feel free to quote and borrow from the great minds of history. All has been said and done, and usually with more eloquence than one can muster in the moment. Feel free to borrow, but give credit where credit is due.

Thank you, beloved brothers and sisters. I leave you with a hymn.


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I discovered this hack sometime last year, but I’ve only been using it for the last few months. It’s a bit of a parlor trick, admittedly. I can afford the 49 cents everyone else spends, but that’s not the point. The point is that it is completely legal. Which means, if you don’t know about this (and I only learned about it last year), there is much about the law you don’t know.

First, the trick. Write the return address so it looks like this:

Your Name
c/o Your Address
Town, State

Make sure you don’t use any abbreviations. Write New Hampshire instead of NH (or your state’s equivalent). Write avenue instead of ave., and so on. Remember, no zip code! Here’s a fictional example:

Tyler Durdin
c/o 1234 Paper Street, Apartment #5
Detroit, Michigan

The recipient’s address can be in the normal fashion, or it can follow this fashion. It doesn’t matter. All that matters is that you are sending the letter from the jurisdiction of the Several States, and not from the jurisdiction of Washington DC. If you are in the same city as the recipient, you only need to put two cents on the envelope. Either way, the envelope can weigh as much as half an ounce.

Finally, take the letter to the post office of your choice and drop it in the box marked “letters”. You may try to give it to one of the clerks, but in my experience, they always claim this should not, cannot, and will not work. It seems these clerks either do not know the obligations of the USPS or are purposely obscuring the truth (personally, I believe it’s the former). I like to think I’m a pretty clever guy. However, I do not think I can fool the space age technology of the USPS sorting machines, which means, this is all somehow strangely legal.

So why no zip code, you ask? If you are using a zip code, you are within the jurisdiction of Washington DC…

…I can hear it now. All five of you still reading this post are saying “I’m not in Washington DC. I’m in Vermont, Pittsburgh, Punkin Center…” Well, not physically, but legally you are in Washington DC.

The short of it is that the Civil War made a mess of the federal government. The mailing standards set just prior to the war are still in effect (if you want the specific paperwork, you’re looking for the Stamp Act of the 37th Congress), but this is only for the Several States and article IV citizens. During the Civil War, a second class of citizen was born. The fourteenth amendment made the slaves federal citizens – a status that didn’t exist before the war. Politicians-in-the-know refer to this as the “special condition” of the fourteenth amendment. The current postage of 49 cents is for anyone subject to the statutes of Washington DC: agents, employees, and citizens. The fourteenth amendment also allowed that federal citizens can live anywhere in the Several States as “residents”.

To manage their newly acquired residents, the federal government set up administrative districts. Being always above board and beyond reproach, the federal government made their efforts obvious to the people. They called these districts “The State of” and placed them geographically on the state of choice. So although there is New York, there is also The State of New York. These two places exist in the same geographical area, but are completely separate jurisdictions. Same goes for cities, counties, and all sorts of local jurisdictions. If you are in “The County of El Paso” know that you are also in El Paso County, but you are subject to federal statutes. If you are in “The City of Pittsburgh” you are also in Pittsburgh, but you are subject to federal statutes. These districts are the jurisdiction of the federal government. The “courts” of this federal system are called the statutory courts, because they enforce the statutes of Washington DC, and her 50 administrative “States”. I’ve heard it said this is why statutory courts fly flags with a gold fringe: to signify the jurisdiction of Washington DC.

A bit of recap: there are two kinds of citizenship in the United States of America. One is subject to the laws of the Several States, protected by the Bill of Rights and the U.S. Constitution. These are article IV citizens as identified by Article IV of the U.S. Constitution. They are not authorized in federal jurisdictions. Although an article IV citizen may be in California, that same citizen is not allowed in The State of California, which means he is not subject to federal statutes.

The other form of citizenship is the “special condition” of the fourteenth amendment, and although these citizens are offered protection from the Several States, they have no protection from the federal government whatsoever. These people are called residents because their domicile is Washington DC.

So how do you know if you are one and not the other? That depends on how you identify yourself. If you identify yourself with a birth certificate, social security number, driver’s license, or any other administrative identification (pretty much anything “official” except a passport) you are a federal citizen. If you created your own identification, you are a citizen of the Several States.

I’m betting most of you are just now realizing that you are part of the “special condition” of the 14th amendment, and thus, you are a federal citizen. This wouldn’t be an issue if federal citizens were protected by the Bill of Rights, but they are not. These citizens are subject to the federal government with no protections whatsoever. Their rights are modifiable. In other words, the federal government never really freed the slaves. They simply took ownership and convinced almost everyone else to “volunteer” into federal slavery. So while your president tells you that you are hated for your freedoms, he secretly knows you don’t have any. Ain’t that a bitch?

But I have a key for you: if you can volunteer in, you can volunteer out. Simply make an identification and state your domicile, then divorce yourself of all offending obligations and entitlements.

That said, the entire matter is tied up in more history and legal posturing than I can reasonably put in one mere blog post. Instead, I’d like introduce you to some friends of mine: Todd McGreevy and Corey Eib of the Agenda31 show. These are the two gentlemen that showed me this twisting honeycomb of a rabbit hole, and I can’t thank them enough. If you’d like to know more about this subject, feel free to visit them at for some low risk, high reward initiatives. That is, if you’re all caught up on the Grimerica, of course.


A note from Corey Eib –

“One point I would like to add is that this non-domestic mail also demonstrates that the existing government has an obligation to provide a republican form of government to the several states.

The several states must pay debts in gold and silver, this includes paying the Post Office Dept for postage used by the governments of the several states.

You and I are not required to pay anything in gold and silver, so we can use fiat currency to buy 2 cent stamps, and that is a great deal for us. But the deal is just plain normal and fair for the several states. Say California presented 1 US minted Silver Dollar (worth about $23 today) and got 50 USPS stamps in return. This means each two cent stamp cost about $0.46 each, pretty close to the price of a ‘forever’ first class USPS stamp today.

Not only is this a nice parlor trick, but it is also evidence of the ability of the people to re-start the functions of the several states and have those states be able to purchase postage using gold and silver coin.

States today are not the same as the several states, they, like us, are not required to purchase postage with gold and silver.”


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