Saturday, March 31, 2007

Bunny logic essay

Bunny logic essay
By Emperor Doodlewood Bump

Soundtrack brought to you George Benson and Buddy Holly

Web link http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Centzon_Totochtin

Every year, thousands of bunnies are raised for sale at Easter time.
Well meaning parents, acquire small fluffy animals as presents. When the
kids are bored the presents get tossed, and left alone, they breed until
they become a nuisance.

What should be done that will reduce the bunny population to lessen
enviro impact and make the world better?

Butcher them for convenient fast food restaurant usage to make bunny
meat kid friendly.

Concepts include (or goose):
- bunny nuggets
- bunny "wings"
- bunny burgers
- bunny sandwich meat
- bunny pizza pockets
- bunny jerky

Monday, March 26, 2007

Selected Documents: Boxer Rebellion (China Relief Expedition)

http://www.history.navy.mil/docs/boxer/boxer11.htm

Oh the fox went out on a chilly night

Oh the fox went out on a chilly night
Prayed to the moon to give him light
He had many a mile to go that night
Before he reached the town-o

I know I seek approval
I know I hurry to be other
Why is it a struggle for me to acknowledge what I am? And what I not I
am.

And I imagine words could contain it.

Save the weak.
Why me?
Why not you?

Because I am here. And I love all of here.

Saturday, March 17, 2007

Draft proposal videomag print publication v3

Subscription campaign 1
4 x 6 postcard
1 side full colour
Monthly

Foundation donation campaign 1
Legal letter ("letter") perforated form
Prepaid postage
Solicit donations which buy media
$25 postcard + letter
$35 postcard + letter + subscription
$50 postcard + letter + subscription + guns germs steel or a short
history of progress or other curriculum
$500 above + annenberg series

Publication 1
(Broadsheet)
Computer paper size Mag
Stitch and trim
Weekly
1000
colour
Swn
6 pages
for the elderly
20 pt type

Editorial guidelines
Stories about civilisation collapse and other stories from
joshuapaul.blogspot.com and other stories

Editorial calendar
# vesuvious
# tical
# catal huyuk
# the flood noah / mesopotamian
# the siberian wholly mammoth frozen solide in the act of
# faith
# the satellite
# the rail gun
# terraforming the solar system

Advertising the sale of new and used dvds, books and cds from reputable
vendors, mutual funds, cars, apartments, computers
And the ark, the seed, the power station, the movie

Draft proposal videomag print publication v2

Subscription campaign 1
4 x 6 postcard
1 side full colour
Monthly

Foundation donation campaign 1
Legal letter ("letter") perforated form
Prepaid postage
Solicit donations which buy media
$25 postcard + letter
$35 postcard + letter + subscription
$50 postcard + letter + subscription + guns germs steel or a short
history of progress or other curriculum
$500 above + annenberg series

Publication 1
(Broadsheet)
Computer paper size Mag
Stitch and trim
Weekly
1000
colour
Swn
6 pages
for the elderly
20 pt type

Editorial guidelines
Stories about civilisation collapse and other stories from
joshuapaul.blogspot.com and other stories

Editorial calendar
# vesuvious
# tical
# catal huyuk
# the flood noah / mesopotamian
# the siberian wholly mammoth frozen solide in the act of
# faith
# the satellite
# the rail gun
# terraforming the solar system

Advertising the sale of new and used dvds, books and cds from reputable
vendors, mutual funds, cars, apartments, computers

Draft proposal videomag print publication

Weekly 1000 colour copies
6 pages for the elderly
Stories about civilisation collapse and other stories from
joshuapaul.blogspot.com and other stories
Advertising the sale of dvds, books and cds from reputable
And donations
Issues
# vesuvious
# tical
# catal huyuk
# the flood noah / mesopotamian
# the siberian wholly mammoth frozen solide in the act of
# faith
# the satellite
# the rail gun
# terraforming the solar system

Friday, March 16, 2007

Rumpelstiltskin / Rumplestiltskin v10

Rumpelstiltskin / Rumplestiltskin

An end of the world eschatological cataclysm, in which love, the
ultimate sacrifice makes all the difference in the world, where the
strong and mighty and proud and glorious are humbled, in dozens of
pages, with hundreds of words, and thousands of letters.

1. Once upon a time there was a poor old oil and gas producer who
depended on his daughter to troubleshoot the oil fields that were always
breaking down due to equipment failure and sabotage. his daughter
jeannie was very smart, clever, cute and feisty. Has to be cute. Has to
be feisty.

But she was so sick and tired of filling tanker trucks, and so sick and
tired of keeping the pumps working all day so she and her old father
could earn enough money to eat. The pumps were always breaking, the oil
was always coming up either too strong or not strong enough, or not at
all, the staff were always getting sick, getting shot or getting blown
up, or just not showing up for work, politicians always asking for more
money, security always wanting more gear, environmentalists always
protesting, and lawyers always getting in the way. Not too mention the
endless dirty tricks of the competition.

She was sick and tired of being poor, of not having enough to eat, of
having to pay too many taxes without sufficient representation, of
having to watch her father work his whole life to take care of her and
not being able to take care of him now he is old, of the dishonest
swindlers getting rich, of her mother dying before she was old enough to
know her, of not getting to enjoy the life the other girls her age were
enjoying - the parties, the clothes and the guys.

And she was always, always, coming up with ideas to make them better off
than she is now.

So she sings "swinging on a star." "Would you like to be better off than
you are?" while she works on her plans for alternative energy sources,
for a more equal distribution of wealth, a reduction in global warming,
a reduction in pollution, and ultimately a reduction in population, all
the while increasing the energy consumption per person.

2. One day when the president, his secret service agents, some of his
liege lords, and the police are driving by in their suvs, she makes her
father run out and kneel before the president's hummer with a truck with
a few barrels of oil on it. The police stop the convoy, and take him
down (face down in the pavement), and after he had been truncheoned,
frisked and handcuffed, the president waves the ss off and asked what he
wanted, the poor oil producer told the king what Jeannie had asked him
to him say - 'my lord, these barrels are but a few of the many barrels
thay my daughter has made by spinning straw in to oil.'

3. The president ordered the police that she be brought to him at once.
The secret service searched her and her plans, and then she courtsied to
the president and told him that of course she couldn't spin large
quantities of straw into oil yet but given enough funding, and here she
took out her plans, that by slighlty increasing taxation on oil and gas
usage he could raise levies to build processing plants that would
convert plants in to biodiesel and maintain the economy and avoid the
coming collapse of civilisation brought on by peak oil.

4. The president was not a nice man. He hadn't stayed president by being
nice. And he didn't like being made fun of (straw into oil -
ridiculous!) in front of his lords by anyone - though she was cute, and
obviously clever - he was furious and he wanted his revenge on her by
showing his lords that no one could get the better of him. 'Give this
foolish man a sound thrashing for interrupting us
and leave him in the street,' he said, and some of his accompanying
guards immediately started to pummel her father, who was being held by
two polices and beaten by two others. Turning to Jeannie, who was being
held back by two other police, he said 'and as for the girl, throw her
in the dungeon, provide her with a lab and straw, and bring me her head
tomorrow if she hasn't spun the straw into oil.'

6. In the lab, Jeannie sat with her back to the technicians and the
straw and cried and
cried and cried. She was upset with herself and wished she was back at
home with her father processing the barrels of oil into gas or pumping
the oil into barrels instead of being locked in the sterile, soulles,
and scientist infested prison waiting to die.

7. Before she had time to feel truly miserable about dying the next day
and leaving her father alone - suddenly there was a knock on the lab
door, and in came a small strange man. Strange because he was so small
and strange because he had opened the door, but she hadn't heard the
turn key turn to unlock it. He looked her up and down and said - 'what
will you give me if I process this straw into oil?'

8. Jeannie tried to wake herself up - 'I must be dreaming this. I must
be still asleep in my bed in the refinery.'

Jeannie said 'I don't have anything to give you.'

He said 'Give me that gold ring on your finger.'

'That was my mothers wedding ring, the only thing I have left that was
hers. Don't ask for that,' Jeannie pleaded.

'What good is the ring if can't save your life? Do you think the
executioner will not slip it from your finger before he removes your
head?'

'What if you run away after I give you the ring?' she asked.

He gripped her hand with suprising speed and strength - 'I could take
it
now,' and then let go.

'Here take my mother's gold ring,' she said slipping it off her
finder.

He put the ring on his necklace, and set to work feeding the straw into
the spinning wheel, and he began to sing a lullaby. And soon the
lullaby, the sound of the spinning wheel and the hypnotic spinning of
the wheel soon put Jeannie to sleep.

9. The sound of the prison door crashing open made Jeannie wake up in a
start. She rubbed her eyes and stood up. The executioner and a guard
were standing in the room with dumbfounded looks on their faces. The
straw was all gone, and in its place was solid gold thread. They were
scared, and closed the door again.

10. The prison door opened again, and in walked the king. The king
blinked and gulped and rubbed his eyes. He had brought with him some of
his ministers who whispered amongst themselves. He had brought a preist
who was sure it was the devils work. He had also brought his master
goldsmith. The goldsmith went down on his hands and knees and felt the
solid gold thread. He looked at it, smelled, and he bit it, checking if
it was gold. He hit it with his hammer and weighed it on his scale.
Then
he turned to the king and nodded.

10. A sly and crafty look fell over the king's face. 'So,' he said,
'you
can spin straw into gold. You weren't lying after all. I will put your
talents to good use.' But Jeannie protested - 'my lord, I can't spin
straw into gold! It wasn't me - I swear! It was the little man - he
came
in and did the spinning. I gave him my ring.' The king frowned, and and
then called to the guard outside the door - 'guardsmen, bring me the
captain of the guard this instant' The captain of the guard came
running, and panting said 'sire, what is it? What has happened?'
'captain, on your life, did anyone enter this room last night?' asked
the king. The captain starting shaking 'no sire. I posted these two
guards and no one has come in or out.' The king nodded, and the captain
relaxed and looked around for first time and was shocked.

11. 'Miller's daughter, it wasn't you that spun this gold? Was it the
devil that helped you as my chaplain believes? Did my captain of the
guard forfeit his life by failing in his duties and let the devil?' the
king laughed. 'Tonight I will move you to bigger, better guarded
prison,
with more straw that my chaplain has sprinkled with holy water for you
to spin on your life in to gold, and we will shall see what will shall
see.' With that the king, very pleased with his cleverness ordered the
gold transferred to his vaults and Jeannie moved to a medium security
prison.

12. Jeannie lay surrounded by straw heaped all around her. Was that
small man really the devil? Then she thought of her dying tomorrow.
Then
she thought of all the people she would never see. She thought of the
husband she would never meet, the child she would never have, and the
grandchild she would never spoil. She wondered what having her head cut
off would feel like. She wondered what would happen to her body. She
was
doing her best to stay awake since it was to be her last night alive.
As
she was starting to go to sleep a familiar voice said to her 'what will
you give me, if I spin this straw into gold?'

13. She opened her aways. It was the little man. She made to run and
pound on the door - but the little man caught her by the wrist with an
iron grip. 'No,' he said. She opened her mouth to scream - when out
shot
his other hand, and covered her mouth so she couldn't breathe. 'Not
that
either.'

14. She nodded and at once he let her go. 'What are you doing here? Who
are you? Where do you come from? Do you always hang out it prisons
waiting for women to show up that need straw spun into gold?'

Joshua Paul
http://joshuapaul.blogspot.com/

Tuesday, March 13, 2007

Re: Organism: broadcast satellite: Jeannie june publications: v for video mag: Re: gamble everything for love - broadcast v2

Re: Organism: broadcast satellite: Jeannie june publications: v for video mag: Re: gamble everything for love - broadcast v2

Take the powerbook
Open
Snapzpro record
Firefox imacro record
Joshua fido mms site play
Joshua.blogspot
Myspace bendsinitervancouver
Joshuascottpaul youtube
Favorite song site
This email
48 pt type

On Sun, 21 Jan 2007 9:13 pm, joshuascottpaul@gmail.com wrote:
> NO_REAL_NAME,SPF_NEUTRAL autolearn=no version=3.1.7
>X-Spam-Level: *
>X-Spam-Checker-Version: SpamAssassin 3.1.7 (2006-10-05) on mx2.users.neocodesoftware.com
>
>Broadcast
>Imacro the playing as a playlist
>Screencast of keynote to youtube of part v stress death pain fear
>And play myspace bendsinistervancouver time song
>And chat in a second window
>And talk iin skype and play in another myspace
>And sing the keynote presentation in skype
>And tell a sotry in skype
>
>On Sun, 21 Jan 2007 8:40 pm, MacDonalds wrote:
>>skype
>>
>>http://www.pandora.com/
>>
>>http://www.pandora.com/backstage?type=station&q=gamble+everything+for+love&x=&y=



On Mar 13, 2007, at 10:38 AM, Alisa Paul wrote:

Welcome to the VideoMag.

On 3/7/07, Joshua Paul wrote:
Hey! Check out this page I published using Google Page Creator.

cogagni course
http://joshuascottpaul.googlepages.com/cogagnicourse

We run from the rain of death

We run from the rain of death
Eventually we will die
But if we can survive a few moments longer
greedy to enjoy life
We huddle and procreate
Underneath the melting umbrellas of agriculture and oil production

Sunday, March 11, 2007

Dreams

Hotel
Friends
Singing beattles
Guitar
Circle 50+ people
Then beer run
Get in micro elevator
In the us
I am and I am not
In the lobby seniors gamble, watch tv, watch classical musicians and
listen to a lecture on the civil war
I go outside

And then I dream about taking my horse and buggy to a kids fair
To which I walk
The reins go through the front wheel on the tricycle
Which means after before the revolution is complete I have the pull the
reins to make the wheel spin backwards to avoid having the pulled out of
my hands
Making it impossible to give rides longer than 5 minutes I say in my
dream
The fair handyman is shocked
And helps me improvise a harness

The next and last dream
Is about a opera cd case size "art" photo book of "european" (godard/de
sade/fellini) erotica
That I read completely
But that I am convincing this girl at work lou to recreate photographs
from the book
I want her to recreate the sex scenes and photograph them
She knows she might be offended and asks if she will find it offensive
I look at the book to find the beginning of the last section which is
not erotica at all but madness
The degrading of human slaves through poo play
Humans in naked save for bondage gear on all fours
In a barn with straw on the ground
Pushing faeces into piles with their faces through puddles (urine?)
It is black and white and there is a caption about their "Mistres" -
misspelled to indicate what? A man?
I decide that's likely to offend her
Thinking about my dream
And the images
I can remember
What I would call the blue boy
Which is a man dressed in chain mail like blue shirt and jacket - but
square armour not mail - all blue - but naked from the waist down, and
we see his profile but no phallus because his legs are scissored
Or
What I think in my dream is captioned something like "how to make a home
made contraption to do the goat"
The picture is black and white
And shows a pair lovers in a 69
The sex of the pair is obscured
By the contraption they are in
Lou is says she likes photography
But where's her work
And where's my portfolio too?

But its not porn
And this is the crux of the dream event
Even the dirtiest photos weren't as dirty as the cleanest porn
Because the subjects were not performing for the camera
They were on their own
Doing what they love best

This camera does not take
This camera gives

The mirror
The bond
Is in the freedom found in limits
You bind yourself to freedom
I take your picture and freeze you in the frame and you find freedom

Friday, March 02, 2007

Of course all media is our memory

Of course all media is our memory
It is what we will remember

What actions we make today
Are based on what history we remember

Do you remember when we cut down the last tree on easter island?

Or killed the last dodo?

Or erorded and salinated the once fertile fields of mesopotamia?

We remember the story of the ark and the flood, why not these?