mswtoyou

[mswtoyou]

Relativity and Unbridled Autonomy

Relativity and Unbridled Autonomy

Origins

When Einstein posited his theory of General and Special relativity in 1905, he did not foresee that its implications would go beyond mere gravity. Most people envision the classic example of a train when they try to understand the theory. However, when the conscious person quips that something is relativethey mean, in essence, that the influence and reality of a person’s lived experience…

[mswtoyou]

Hurts, doesn't it?

Something I wish more people would understand…

[mswtoyou]

I hope you voted!!! And are now lifted.

The Three

Once upon a midterm dreary

While I struggled weak and weary

Upon many a volume of news cycles and lies galore

While I plodded weak and snarky suddenly there came a harking

As if someone was gently lurking and knocking at my door

Tis Amazon, I muttered, only this and nothing more

Ah, very clearly I remember it was a bleak and not cold October

And each pamphlet and flyer lay strewn on the kitchen floor.

Eagerly, I sought the morrow; vainly if only to be to be done with it,

Even if it ends in sorrow–sorrow for my own lost wit.

For the rare and radical leftists who still implore

Banded here forever more.

And the aquiensence of my fellow citizens, all those who’d given in

Wounded me–filled with fantastic terror I had never felt before;

So that now, to still the crumbling of my conscience, I stood repeating

“‘Tis only some odd mind control that has wrestled away their very soul,

Some dark spirit from 1860 or 1950 coming their will to extole;–

Nay implore. A momentary lapse and nothing more.”

Yet, listening my rage grew stronger and I could withhold no longer,

“Sir,” said I, “or Madam, truly leave I beg and peace restore;

But the fact is I was napping and so silently you came trapping,

And so maliciously, how you came with perilous wrapping,

Loud and boisterous one could not believe you real

That scarce could I believe and thought by logic you would be repealed,

And did I leave open the door?

Such hatred there and nothing more.”

Two years into that darkness peeking, I’ve stood long afraid of seeking,

Doubting, and nightmares that came I never thought seeming

But now, alas, to the day I have awoken, oh spirits I give no token

This they whisper to any and all who’d listen, “Vote” they implore.

Merely this with fondest hope. Only this and nothing more.

Then these three approached from nothing but vapor

And how I recognized the faces glimpsed from those other places,

Where good spirits go who died too soon, guides they have become

And was it honor I felt in my chest, no I was quite undone.

A stern and grave expression they wore,

“You are the three buried in Mississippi so long ago, asked I?

And they made no move to answer, as the truth was quite plain.

Two shot quickly as it were, one left last to suffer pain.

But why is it you come here, to me, what is it I have done?

Yet they stood quiet, hardly moving, yet looking upon me as one.

Tell me why you feel it necessary on a night such as this

To visit this side of history’s hellish shore?

Quoth the three, “Nevermore.”

Much I trembled at the three and could not stand on weakened knee.

Though the answer was full with meaning, little could I bear;

For we cannot help history so much as touch it

But we repeat it with very little care.

And they stood proud in last light gleaming

And I felt I must be dreaming.

I would that I could and I am that I may

To rectify the wrongs of this day,

If these three come back to stand before me I cannot add insult to misery.

But for a few short minutes stand, for God, For Country,

For my fellow man on this side of heaven’s door.

So that I may not be haunted and live free as they had not before,

To answer again, “Nevermore.”

Pamphlets gathered and news casting shunned.

Opening that square document. Pen at the ready, hands hot yet steady,

No need now to quote, for I was ready to vote!

And their eyes as I bubbled were no longer so deeply troubled,

And their shoulders pressed together as looking on as one.

And through my tears that I could not soothe

I did remember the blood splatter at the voting booth.

So many wanted to, could not, not for lack of trying

Many went to cast, some gave all, dying.

And isn’t it still so hauntingly fitting,

That while I was there filling out and sitting,

Those three went to their rightful place?

And as I finished and licked my envelope,

I mailed it later with great joy and hope.

Win or lose for what does it matter?

The choice belongs to the fates, my obligation is to reach the gates.

And when I think of it all as vanity, I think of those visitors three.

Who died on a dark night, after arrangement and flash of lights.

Murdered under a Southern moon, buried and dead too soon.

I hear now and then the voices of these brave young men who said

“Nevermore.”

And know that in the night of abeyance I paid some small recompense

To all those that came before and met much too quickly on that dark shore.

On the other side of history–

And my soul from that wretched curse was lifted,

Indeed how I was gifted by the knocking on the door–

And shall be lifted ever more.

[mswtoyou]

Wishing

I wish other people’s arms were as open as mine.

That their thoughts of self could give way to something beautiful.

I wish they could try to climb away from and outside of themselves.

Living in oneself must be a tiring as standing with open arms.

[mswtoyou]

I love love love Looney Tunes. And yes. I'm waiting for poor whites to join in.

[mswtoyou]

Wishing

I wish other people's arms were as open as mine.

That their thoughts of self could give way to something beautiful.

I wish they could try to climb away from and outside of themselves.

Living in oneself must be a tiring as standing with open arms.

[mswtoyou]

Vote

The Three

Once upon a midterm dreary

While I struggled weak and weary

Upon many a volume of news cycles and lies galore

While I plodded weak and snarky suddenly there came a harking

As if someone was gently lurking and knocking at my door

Tis Amazon, I muttered, only this and nothing more

Ah, very clearly I remember it was a bleak and not cold October

And each pamphlet and flyer lay strewn on the kitchen floor.

Eagerly, I sought the morrow; vainly if only to be to be done with it,

Even if it ends in sorrow–sorrow for my own lost wit.

For the rare and radical leftists who still implore

Banded here forever more.

And the aquiensence of my fellow citizens, all those who’d given in

Wounded me–filled with fantastic terror I had never felt before;

So that now, to still the crumbling of my conscience, I stood repeating

“‘Tis only some odd mind control that has wrestled away their very soul,

Some dark spirit from 1860 or 1950 coming their will to extole;–

Nay implore. A momentary lapse and nothing more.”

Yet, listening my rage grew stronger and I could withhold no longer,

“Sir,” said I, “or Madam, truly leave I beg and peace restore;

But the fact is I was napping and so silently you came trapping,

And so maliciously, how you came with perilous wrapping,

Loud and boisterous one could not believe you real

That scarce could I believe and thought by logic you would be repealed,

And did I leave open the door?

Such hatred there and nothing more.”

Two years into that darkness peeking, I’ve stood long afraid of seeking,

Doubting, and nightmares that came I never thought seeming

But now, alas, to the day I have awoken, oh spirits I give no token

This they whisper to any and all who’d listen, “Vote” they implore.

Merely this with fondest hope. Only this and nothing more.

Then these three approached from nothing but vapor

And how I recognized the faces glimpsed from those other places,

Where good spirits go who died too soon, guides they have become

And was it honor I felt in my chest, no I was quite undone.

A stern and grave expression they wore,

“You are the three buried in Mississippi so long ago, asked I?

And they made no move to answer, as the truth was quite plain.

Two shot quickly as it were, one left last to suffer pain.

But why is it you come here, to me, what is it I have done?

Yet they stood quiet, hardly moving, yet looking upon me as one.

Tell me why you feel it necessary on a night such as this

To visit this side of history’s hellish shore?

Quoth the three, “Nevermore.”

Much I trembled at the three and could not stand on weakened knee.

Though the answer was full with meaning, little could I bear;

For we cannot help history so much as touch it

But we repeat it with very little care.

And they stood proud in last light gleaming

And I felt I must be dreaming.

I would that I could and I am that I may

To rectify the wrongs of this day,

If these three come back to stand before me I cannot add insult to misery.

But for a few short minutes stand, for God, For Country,

For my fellow man on this side of heaven’s door.

So that I may not be haunted and live free as they had not before,

To answer again, “Nevermore.”

Pamphlets gathered and news casting shunned.

Opening that square document. Pen at the ready, hands hot yet steady,

No need now to quote, for I was ready to vote!

And their eyes as I bubbled were no longer so deeply troubled,

And their shoulders pressed together as looking on as one.

And through my tears that I could not soothe

I did remember the blood splatter at the voting booth.

So many wanted to, could not, not for lack of trying

Many went to cast, some gave all, dying.

And isn’t it still so hauntingly fitting,

That while I was there filling out and sitting,

Those three went to their rightful place?

And as I finished and licked my envelope,

I mailed it later with great joy and hope.

Win or lose for what does it matter?

The choice belongs to the fates, my obligation is to reach the gates.

And when I think of it all as vanity, I think of those visitors three.

Who died on a dark night, after arrangement and flash of lights.

Murdered under a Southern moon, buried and dead too soon.

I hear now and then the voices of these brave young men who said

“Nevermore.”

And know that in the night of abeyance I paid some small recompense

To all those that came before and met much too quickly on that dark shore.

On the other side of history–

And my soul from that wretched curse was lifted,

Indeed how I was gifted by the knocking on the door–

And shall be lifted ever more.

[mswtoyou]

The Three

Once upon a midterm dreary

While I struggled weak and weary

Upon many a volume of news cycles and lies galore

While I plodded weak and snarky suddenly there came a harking

As if someone was gently lurking and knocking at my door

Tis Amazon, I muttered, only this and nothing more

Ah, very clearly I remember it was a bleak and not cold October

And each pamphlet and flyer lay strewn on the kitchen floor.

Eagerly, I sought the morrow; vainly if only to be to be done with it,

Even if it ends in sorrow--sorrow for my own lost wit.

For the rare and radical leftists who still implore

Banded here forever more.

And the aquiensence of my fellow citizens, all those who’d given in

Wounded me--filled with fantastic terror I had never felt before;

So that now, to still the crumbling of my conscience, I stood repeating

“‘Tis only some odd mind control that has wrestled away their very soul,

Some dark spirit from 1860 or 1950 coming their will to extole;--

Nay implore. A momentary lapse and nothing more.”

Yet, listening my rage grew stronger and I could withhold no longer,

“Sir,” said I, “or Madam, truly leave I beg and peace restore;

But the fact is I was napping and so silently you came trapping,

And so maliciously, how you came with perilous wrapping,

Loud and boisterous one could not believe you real

That scarce could I believe and thought by logic you would be repealed,

And did I leave open the door?

Such hatred there and nothing more.”

Two years into that darkness peeking, I’ve stood long afraid of seeking,

Doubting, and nightmares that came I never thought seeming

But now, alas, to the day I have awoken, oh spirits I give no token

This they whisper to any and all who’d listen, “Vote” they implore.

Merely this with fondest hope. Only this and nothing more.

Then these three approached from nothing but vapor

And how I recognized the faces glimpsed from those other places,

Where good spirits go who died too soon, guides they have become

And was it honor I felt in my chest, no I was quite undone.

A stern and grave expression they wore,

“You are the three buried in Mississippi so long ago, asked I?

And they made no move to answer, as the truth was quite plain.

Two shot quickly as it were, one left last to suffer pain.

But why is it you come here, to me, what is it I have done?

Yet they stood quiet, hardly moving, yet looking upon me as one.

Tell me why you feel it necessary on a night such as this

To visit this side of history’s hellish shore?

Quoth the three, “Nevermore.”

Much I trembled at the three and could not stand on weakened knee.

Though the answer was full with meaning, little could I bear;

For we cannot help history so much as touch it

But we repeat it with very little care.

And they stood proud in last light gleaming

And I felt I must be dreaming.

I would that I could and I am that I may

To rectify the wrongs of this day,

If these three come back to stand before me I cannot add insult to misery.

But for a few short minutes stand, for God, For Country,

For my fellow man on this side of heaven’s door.

So that I may not be haunted and live free as they had not before,

To answer again, “Nevermore.”

Pamphlets gathered and news casting shunned.

Opening that square document. Pen at the ready, hands hot yet steady,

No need now to quote, for I was ready to vote!

And their eyes as I bubbled were no longer so deeply troubled,

And their shoulders pressed together as looking on as one.

And through my tears that I could not soothe

I did remember the blood splatter at the voting booth.

So many wanted to, could not, not for lack of trying

Many went to cast, some gave all, dying.

And isn’t it still so hauntingly fitting,

That while I was there filling out and sitting,

Those three went to their rightful place?

And as I finished and licked my envelope,

I mailed it later with great joy and hope.

Win or lose for what does it matter?

The choice belongs to the fates, my obligation is to reach the gates.

And when I think of it all as vanity, I think of those visitors three.

Who died on a dark night, after arrangement and flash of lights.

Murdered under a Southern moon, buried and dead too soon.

I hear now and then the voices of these brave young men who said

“Nevermore.”

And know that in the night of abeyance I paid some small recompense

To all those that came before and met much too quickly on that dark shore.

On the other side of history--

And my soul from that wretched curse was lifted,

Indeed how I was gifted by the knocking on the door--

And shall be lifted ever more.

[mswtoyou]

And we wonder why there's anger, why the black middle class is dying.

Seattle's Segregation: It's All About The Mortgage

Redlining" is when a bank refuses to give a mortgage, or a government refuses to back a mortgage, to someone because they live in an area deemed to be a poor financial risk. In the United States, this term came to be in the Great Depression when the US government took over responsibility of backing mortgages – but only in areas deemed sufficiently low-risk. In practice, “sufficiently low-risk” meant mostly-white or all-white neighborhoods.

Redlining was a tool of racial segregation and separation. If a family cannot purchase a home than that family cannot acquire capital on that capital to the next generation. The family’s money is spent on rent, the value of which disappears to the landlord, instead of a mortgage, the value of which stays with the family. Redlining hurts families for multiple generations.

Here is the map that delineated where mortgages would be given in Seattle, in Washington state. You can literally see the red areas in the map.

[mswtoyou]

Great life hacks.

my parents aren’t teaching me life lessons.

#i need some adults to TEACH ME SHIT ABOUT LIFE

[mswtoyou]

Haiku

Haiku:

The play-kiss of God

Is now in the wind and bites

Just beneath my heart.

[mswtoyou]

Allegories

Allegory of Africa-Italy,1730s

Allegory of America-Italy, 1750s

Allegory of Music-Italy, 1670s

Allegory of the Sense of Smell-Italy, 1620s

Allegory of Africa-Italy, 1750s

Allegory of the Continents-Belgium/Netherlands, 1615

Allegory of Jesuit Missionary Work-Italy, 1690s

Allegory of Asia-Italy, 1750s

Allegory of the Senses (Hearing)-Belgium, 1770s

Allegory of Venice-Italy, 1570s

[mswtoyou]

[mswtoyou]

[mswtoyou]

Me.

[mswtoyou]

Small picture people. It allows these companies to blame consumers for their actions but not take responsibility for their larger, more unethical acts.

[mswtoyou]

Is this code switching?

i need to hire them for all my birthday parties