Never in our wildest fantasies …
This Homo sapiens choir is scheduled to perform at the Kennedy Center on … the day hell freezes over!
Warning: Video, the choir, its members & message of hope are all fake (4 min)
The Achilles heel of the Homo sapiens species is “hope.”
This short rendition of the famous song, We Are the World, sung by the most incongruous, bizarre, dissonant, unharmonious, collection of human beings is a wonderful metaphor for the impossibility of ever finding peace among humanity. Plus, it exhibits the incongruous bunch of thugs who truly think they “are the world.”
This little AI performance is as false as the fiction we put up with all around the world, fabricated by so-called leaders singing from different song sheets (i.e., ideologies, religions, politics – conservative, liberal, socialism, communism). And it reveals the absurdity, the impossibility, of hope. We humans will never sing from the same song sheet, never be in harmony. We are not capable.
“We have met the enemy. And it is us.” – Pogo
In just four minutes this fictional performance exemplifies, in sound and color, the folly of the hope that we cling to, have been clinging to since … time began.
“Never doubt that a small, thoughtful group of people can change the world. Indeed, it is all that ever has.” – Margaret Mead
Maybe they’ll sing “The Impossible Dream” next?
How does Trump con 72 million voters?
He gives them ‘hope’ in a swamp of meaninglessness
(3 min read)
“Religion began when the first scoundrel met the first fool.” – Voltaire
Trumpism is a religion, a belief, a cult of hope, no different Read more…
A must-read – in case you missed it
Canadian anthropologist pens brilliant denouement of America
(15 minute read)
In Rolling Stone, Wade Davis, who holds the Leadership Chair in Cultures and Ecosystems at Risk at the University of Read more…
“People are the worst”
Coming 2027
My personal history is the stuff they write books about. And that's what I am doing. The working title, "Chains of My Father: Marry White."
"The ghostly image of the tragic mulatto trapped between two worlds." - Barack Obama
This perspicacious line from the Prologue of Barack Obama's "Dream from My Father" wrenched my aspiration into action. I started writing, furiously. Unlike Obama's perspective, my pain had been for the opposite reason: I was not seen by whites as a "tragic mulatto," rather I lived every day of my childhood hoping whites were not "searching my eyes for some telltale sign" that I WAS mulatto. This is my story.
It's historical fiction because I cannot find enough records to substantiate all facets of the story. I've combed the genealogy, traveled to my father and grandparents' birthplace, walked the graveyards, searched the churches and ... well, all the facts aren't there. I've written three books based on the genealogy of other families but my ancestors emerged from a journey of too much slavery and too few records.
In Grenada, West Indies, my paternal, 3x great grandmother was a "freed slave" and my grandmother, Amelia, was born to a mixed race slave named Mary (we do not know her last name) and a white, French plantation owner, Fredric de Poullain. Amelia was raised in the "Big House" and in adulthood attempted to escape her black heritage by disowning her mother, telling her, "Get out and never come back." Amelia, the mother of twelve children, enshrined the family in her ancestors' commandment, "Marry white." Many did, including my father marrying mother a lovely, white, Anglo-Saxon protestant born in England. They met in Canada where my dad studied and became a doctor.
It has taken seven generations to be free of the stigma of black heritage but today my children embrace it. Unfortunately, the past 250 years have been a wasteland of bigotry and racism, but, on closer look, we see not only the brutality, fear and violence but the self-respect, dignity, love, perseverance and indomitable spirit.
The depth of historic perspective and the human inspiration has created a trilogy and as of this writing I have only arrived at the beginning of the 20th century. 1900 is the year my father was born and the beginning of Book III, and he's pushing me to make sure our story is published by the summer of 2027.
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