Back To Less Important Business

The children have been fed through the severest emergency period, lockdown is partially relaxed here in Nepal, and families in the village we were feeding are doing a little bit better. The remaining smidgeon of money that was in the kitty of our food drive has been properly distributed to food and medicine for two desperately needy local families. (Romash and friend, pictured above getting ready to deliver.) There are many families throughout the city that are still very much in trouble, so we will keep the GFM page open and take care of those folks as contributions to do so roll in. As always, we will continue to report to you in prose and photo about the great good that your generosity accomplishes. Our crew is, at least part time, getting back to their previous lives. That means that I am once again an author writing a book about a laughing corpse who travels completely around a decaying world in search of truth and fun. Here is a very short piece from March. It describes the beginning of the long, severe lockdown in Nepal. Oddly enough, nearly everything in it is still very much current (except of course that the numbers are much higher than one by now). ***And again, thank you very, very much to all the compassionate donors that have helped, and those who will continue to help, to keep our neighbors from starving! https://www.gofundme.com/f/malnourished-nepali-children-need-help
Trapped In Heaven/Free In Bondage
Want to know how to be blissful and free while shackled to where you are? I found the answer (again) while trapped in The Boudha Stupa’s wheelhouse in Kathmandu, but it can happen anywhere.
Just three short days after moving into The Pundarika Cozy Apartments to enjoy my last two weeks in Kathmandu while finalizing plans for a Spanish adventure, Spain closed. It seems like most of the world closed with it.
The corona virus has spun the planet into panic. Everything is closed. Everyone is out of work. Early reports say that it will become a lot more serious. So far, what we have seen here involves a lot more social engineering and cultural manipulation than disease. A lot has been done about successfully controlling human behavior. Nothing has been done about successfully controlling a virus.
“Never waste a crisis.” —Winston Churchill
The manufactured fear, real economic impact, and spooky sociopolitical consequences are already proving to be worse than the actual disease. Nepal has one reported case so far. That person was isolated and cured weeks ago. Nonetheless, the government has officially mandated social distancing to the point of locked down isolation for its citizens. There is no projected end date to this process. Communication with the Western world tells me that reactions and overreactions to this virus are just as pronounced there. A real disease exists and it can be dangerous. But media exaggeration, dramatization, and fear-mongering seem to be serving a diabolical purpose that has nothing to do with a virus. Call me a conspiracy theorist, label me paranoid, and send me for counseling but I’ll bet anyone that wants to take the bet—there is a sociopolitical plague and an impending degeneration of freedom in the works that a virus itself could not produce.
Anyway, I am trapped here in heaven and loving it, so far. I’m not loving the fact that people around the world are getting sick and some are dying. I’m not loving the the way so many people are drinking fear as if it is champagne during Prohibition. There is nothing lovable about the economic butt kicking being suffered by so many people that have always been a paycheck or two away from being homeless and hungry, or the restrictions already put on personal freedoms, or the strong possibility that those restrictions will expand in the near future. What I am loving is that sheer dumb luck has landed me on a fragrant garden island floating in a sea of both bullshit and real shit. Yes, there is a nasty storm all around. Yes, the storm is complete with viral monsters, social maelstroms, a typhoon strength manipulation of the public that is painful to watch, and tidal waves of debilitating insecurity and fearful insanity. Common sense has become a victim of both the hype and the disease.
But life here in the Boudha Stupa area is a bit more fun than most reports of life elsewhere. When your dimension is collapsing, it is a real plus to be surrounded by folks who are already halfway into another dimension.
Joseph Campbell said that when a person is no longer directed by and mentally immersed in the history of his or her carnal body, but is rather directed by and immersed in the Consciousness that informs that body, then the suffering of that ego driven carnal self no longer has anything to do with this person’s experience of life. Although conditions outside of self stay the same, a change of perspective, perception, and focus can actually make the suffering disappear from the way we experience those conditions.
Identifying with the dimension of consciousness cancels a lot of problems that we employ by identifying with our so-called normal egoistic frame of reference. Mr. Campbell said that it is as if the shackles fall off while never leaving your wrists—like being free in bondage. A common old expression states a similar notion as, “head in the clouds with feet on the ground.” George Harrison nailed open the door to all this for us by saying quite often that, “It’s all in your mind.”
A very high percentage of the people here understand and live by these ideas. There are over a thousand monks and nuns in this small neighborhood. They spend more time dwelling in that Universal Consciousness than in their carnal, ego-based history. They radiate what the Buddhists call Loving Kindness. It is considered to be the base station of both human and universal nature. The entire population of the neighborhood absorbs a lot of what the robed people radiate. That general public then radiates love and support back to the monks, nuns, and each other as well as toward any and all living things.
This kind and loving way of life makes sense, and it is nothing new. It has been voiced in one form or another by sages, shamans, and other emotional scholars around the world for thousands of years. Generating a state of Loving Kindness and psychological freedom by identifying with the Universal, instead of identifying with the strictly and restrictively personal, has major advantages. It provides the practitioner with great inner strength as well as a ticket to ride with happy freedom’s essential sibling components—altruism, compassion, and universal connectedness. These qualities are the building blocks for a happier life.
Knowing that a mind free and strong enough to transcend conventional, mundane thought is the base station for happiness is not enough. Just knowing about this state of mind is a very different thing than consistently practicing and actively embodying it enough to internalize its benefits, and become skillful in sharing those benefits with others.
It doesn’t take a shaman to see that we are on the edge of some very deep shit, folks. It is more important now than it has ever been to practice the transcendence that will actually bring transition. Knowing about it won’t save us. Embodying it, becoming it, and then consistently being it, will.
Knowing that we need food to live will not keep us alive if we don’t shop, cook, and eat.
MORE TO COME ON Nepal, photos of ancient spiritual and historical sites, people, culture, then the continuing trip around the world, and more—if you want it. If not let me know and I will take you off the mailing list right away.
***If you missed the Introduction to the book that will be titled Temple Dog Soldier and contains the above chapter, or would like to see several other chapters that are available for free online, go to the Puppy website Blog section at www.fearlesspuppy.info or contact me directly at jahbuddha13@hotmail.com This is a book in progress. You are reading it as it is being created! Just like you, I don’t know what the next chapter is going to be about until it is written. As the Intro will tell you, this is a totally true story—and probably the only book ever written about and by a corpse traveling around the world!
**The books Fearless Puppy On American Road and Reincarnation Through Common Sense by this same author are also available through website and email, as are sample chapters from those books. Very entertaining tv/radio interviews with and newspaper articles about the author are also available there. There is no charge for anything but the complete books, if you choose to buy them! (***You can also get them right from Amazon. See all the 5 reviews there.) All author profits from book sales will be donated to help sponsor an increase in the number of wisdom professionals on Earth, beginning with but certainly not exclusive to Buddhist monks and nuns.

Pandemics And Root Canals and Hornets, Oh My!

August 18, 2020

                           Pandemics And Root Canals and Hornets, Oh My!
If you are anything like me, then after eighty days in near-solitary confinement watching your species go insane with panic over this century’s bubonic plague while powerful sociopaths culturally engineer and blatantly gaslight democracy out of existence—you need some diversion. After seeing Murder Hornets invade Washington State while socially crippling racism and mindless riots vent lifetimes of both righteous indignation and misdirected anger as they swallow your homeland’s last remaining shred of integrity—you need some excitement! How about finding a working dentist that has First World dental knowledge, in a Fourth World country, during a lockdown where people are afraid to even shake hands much less put those hands into each other’s mouths? Doesn’t a bunch of root canals sounds like just the ticket while waiting for this whole thing to turn the corner and actually become the zombie apocalypse we’ve all been anxiously awaiting? Can you think of a more fun-filled activity, during a time in history when clinical depression is considered a normal reaction, than a procedure many sadists view as their go-to form of torture? Well, I certainly can’t!
It seems my teeth can’t either. The few natural teeth left in my mouth have gone rogue. They scream like mindless infants among the many silent, space-age implants housed in the rest of my jawbone. The pain has distracted me from both the hash pipe induced hibernation and the golden meditations. It is one of the very few things that could ever inspire me to attempt what seems to be the impossible—finding a high level professional with a strong knowledge of cutting edge procedures and sterile, modern equipment in a country where I don’t know a single word of the native language. This dentist needs to be willing to risk exposure to potential plague by diving into a foreigner’s mouth. The foreigner is from the nation with the world’s highest plague-related death toll. This has to happen in a world that has completely shut down, and in a part of that world where the phrase “strong knowledge of cutting edge procedures and sterile, modern equipment ” has never been part of the vocabulary.
Sometimes you get lucky. Doctor Samdup at Mon Lam dental clinic has an Internet presence that includes an email address. He answers emails quickly, and opens his office for emergencies even during a pandemic. During our first meeting, he shows more than enough dental knowledge and humanity to inspire my confidence. He seems to be a wonderful and very talented person. Dr. Samdup’s office has only one other employee. His younger brother, Chungdak, is his dental assistant since the dentist lost his actual assistant when she returned to her village as lockdown began. Chungdak seems to know his way around a dental office pretty well. Tibetan refugee families, and Nepali families in general, are very tightly knit. He has no doubt been watching his elder brother very closely since birth.
There is a high risk in this situation, but it doesn’t involve the dentist. It is with the administration that controls the opening and mandatory closing of businesses, such as the  laboratory that makes the crowns. There is a five day wait after the root canal procedures before lack of infection is verified. This verification allows the remains of the teeth to safely accept crowns. The lab makes the crowns during that five day gap. Teeth lose core strength when the central nerve (root) is extracted. Nothing is left in the middle but a vacant canal. Teeth in that condition, without strong permanent crowns offering a protective cover, could shatter. If there is a sudden forced shut down of the lab, the results could be disastrous. Decisions such as whether or not to shut businesses down are often made on-the-fly amidst the uncharted waters that have engulfed our lives in 2020.
Many administrative authorities around the world, within government and business alike, have shown confusion about what appropriate Corona procedure is and how to implement it. Actions that affect everyone everywhere are sometimes instituted by very small groups of folks doing guesswork in offices and boardrooms. They can’t be altogether blamed for this. Political and social as well as medical functions are all on new ground.
Some authorities also show more concern for the control and social engineering of their constituents than for the well-being of those people.
We all suffer a shortage of accurate information, not just government and business. There also, at times, seems to be a lack of knowledge as to what to do with accurate information, even if it appears in a very recognizable form.
Authority often has an unfortunate abundance of confidence without clarity. To be fair, so do many folks that aren’t in authority. Confidence, when tainted by pride and ignorance, will not allow its host to admit just how little he or she actually and accurately knows. This can result in some half-baked and counterproductive decision making.
All these factors are currently making life on Earth very unpredictable.
Again, sometimes you get lucky.
The lab stays open and everything goes smoothly. Two short weeks after first entering the Mon Lam dental clinic, I discover that it is possible to have fun getting four root canal procedures done, as well as a tooth pulled. Doctor Samdup seems to have the heart of Mother Teresa, the knowledge of a scholar, and the skill of a top level dental surgeon.
Those of you residing in the Western world will think this is a misprint. It is not. Four root canals, four crowns, and one extraction costs a total of  less than five hundred U.S. dollars here. The same procedures and prosthetics anywhere in America would cost somewhere between five and thirteen thousand dollars. It is very unlikely that the dentist performing these procedures in America would be any more talented than Dr. Samdup of the Boudha section of Kathmandu.
There are a lot of older foreigners with dental issues here. I recommend Dr. Samdup to all of them.
Holy Shit, I Really Am Dead!
Here is something even more bizarre than root canals during a zombie apocalypse! I have been severely, abnormally sensitive to cold for many years. Some friends say that I was spawned by a lizard, cobra, or other cold-blooded reptile. When most other people wear shorts and a T-shirt, I am in a sweatshirt and cap. In addition, I often claim to be already dead and that this book is being written by a corpse. As you know, doctors said the death part would happen by now.
These light-hearted comments have just tripped over their own feet. As it turns out, both of these chuckles seem to be a very different type of funny than anyone could have ever suspected.
Having seen and experienced more trauma than most people do in several lifetimes, I don’t freak out easily or often. But I am a little freaked now.
The monastery café that serves free lunch to trapped tourists is required by the government to keep people at least three feet apart while waiting in line at the steam tables, make sure each person keeps a mask on except while eating, and keep each person seated at a different table. Management is also required to welcome diners by putting a thermometer to the skin of each person before they are allowed to enter the first gate.
If you have a fever, there is another series of procedures.
Fever is not my problem. Usually, my friend Mr. Dawa or the lovely Ms. Diki just press the thermometer up to my head and say, “you’re fine.” Then I proceed to the mandatory hand washing and line waiting. Last week Dawa showed the thermometer to me. It said 90 degrees. I advised him to get a new thermometer as either his was broken or he was talking with one of the undead. He held that thermometer to his own and several other people’s heads. The readings were all between 96 degrees and 99 degrees. We have tried this little experiment five times during the past two weeks. Each time my temperature runs between 88 and 94°. This is cross-checked each day against several people, and always registers them between 96 and 99°!
There is no apparent explanation for this. It now appears that this book actually is being written by a corpse. For all my joking about “the zombie apocalypse,” I never thought of myself as one of the zombies!
A Nice Thought
“We suffer a serious disease as well as all the terrible human mismanagement, political and economic manipulation, fear mongering, gaslighting, social engineering, and other assorted criminal greed that is flying into our lives on the tailwinds of this virus. What if these are the abusive parents of the beautiful happening that we’ve been talking about and waiting for all of our lives? Could all this madness just be the last dying gasp of the old paradigm and its disappearing architects? Is their organized confusion and grasping at regressive straws just a sign that the old ways are fading to make room for a new, more compassionate, much more common-sensible sanity—a sanity that may come to us as soon as the dust from all the insanity settles? There may be some real ugliness in the tunnel, but the light at the end of it could be the birthplace of a near-utopian legend. As we keep our inner lights burning brightly right now, no matter how dark it temporarily seems to be outside, our better possibilities gather strength on their road to becoming tomorrow’s realities.”  Tenzin Kharma Trinley
MORE TO COME ON Nepal, photos of ancient spiritual and historical sites, people, culture, and more—if you want it. If not let me know and I will take you off the mailing list right away.
***If you missed the Introduction to the book that will be titled Temple Dog Soldier and contain the above chapters, or would like to see several other chapters that are available for free online, go to the Puppy website Blog section at http://www.fearlesspuppy.info (If you only have time for a bit, scroll down 6 or 7 pieces to the most important bit. It is titled What I Have Learned So Far.) This is a book in progress. You are reading it as it is being created! Just like you, I don’t know what the next chapter is going to be about until it is written. As the Intro will tell you, this is a totally true story—and probably the only book ever written about a dead man’s journey around the world!
***The books Fearless Puppy On American Road and Reincarnation Through Common Sense by this same author are also available through the

http://www.fearlesspuppy.info website, as are sample chapters from those books. Very entertaining tv/radio interviews with, and newspaper articles about, the author are also available there. There is no charge for anything but the complete books! All author profits from book sales will be donated to help sponsor an increase in the number of wisdom professionals on Earth, beginning with but certainly not exclusive to Buddhist monks and nuns.

You Can Learn A Lot From Dogs

YOU CAN LEARN A LOT FROM DOGS/CALL OR WRITE TO SOMEONE! There is an organic vegetarian café here in Kathmandu that usually does a good enough business to help fund the large monastery that is attached to and established it. They also host the Saturday farmer’s market. Since the Corona thing has been going on, they are not actually open for business, but do stay open several hours a day to feed tourists with no kitchens that are trapped in Nepal. The meals are provided at no charge and funded by the monastery. I go there and put out sealed vitamin C tablets for folks and also donate oranges bought from the fruit stand near my apartment. I have made friends with the manager and told him of my concern for the neighborhood dogs. He arranged to get me some dog food. Today is my first trip around the neighborhood with it. It is a very bizarre experience.
As I try to feed the first cluster of four, a local says to me in broken English accompanied by a dramatic shoulder shrug, “won’t eat!” I put handfuls of food in front of the dogs and discover how right the local person is. None of them take the food. One scurries away nervously, but three of them rub up against me and insist on being petted. I do so. They are very obviously happy about this. Of the hundred or so dogs I run into within the square half mile, only three dive into the food like they haven’t eaten for a while. At least fifty rub up against me and insist on being petted. These creatures are not starving for food! They are starving for all the people that are missing from their streets, and the affection they are used to getting from human passersby.
I wonder how many people are in the same boat as the Stupaville dogs. Call or write to someone you love, or someone you don’t! www.fearlesspuppy.info

Cambodia Rocks! A Message From Beyond

These few pages are from the new book in progress. As said in the previously posted Intro to it, it is a totally true story and may be the only book ever written by a corpse! You are seeing it as I write it! ***If you missed the Intro to this third book and would like to see it, just  go to the blog at the website, look right here at WordPress, or send an email request to jahbuddha13@hotmail.com ***The books Fearless Puppy On American Road and Reincarnation Through Common Sense by this same author, as well as sample chapters by, very entertaining tv/radio interviews with, and newspaper articles about him are available at http://www.fearlesspuppy.info   

OUT OF AMERICA/Welcome To Cambodia
I hadn’t had anything edible on an American airplane in forty years, so the spiced chicken and fish on the China Eastern Airlines flight from Honolulu to Shanghai was a very pleasant surprise. The flight was a smooth ride on a large Airbus with happy, pleasant flight attendants.
The puddle jumper flight from Shanghai to Cambodia offered less. Part of the problem was that the plane was small, rickety, turbulent, and the flight attendants were bitchy. Part of it was me. That first eleven hour link to Shanghai was an exciting adventure. On the four hour flight to Cambodia I felt more like a factory worker who had just put in a triple shift and needed sleep worse than oxygen. My best efforts couldn’t altogether calm the frayed nerves.
Having landed in Cambodia, life will be very much in the present tense from now on. So will the writing.
The first thing I notice is as surreal as any Disney cartoon. It’s 11 PM. It’s seventy-five degrees Fahrenheit on November twenty-third. The air is so steamy that palm leaves thirty feet in the sky give the appearance of dancing in clouds. As if in a Twilight Zone episode, it seems more like a hallucination seen through an airplane window.
The second thing I notice here is that people are smiling a lot more than they do in most other places I have been. Life in Southeast Asia is good in many ways.
The Tanei Boutique Villa Hotel looks like it was a French governor’s palace a hundred and fifty years ago. Beautiful marble floors, heavily sculpted wood work, and interior fountains and gardens are obviously worn down but still beautiful. There is a sizable swimming pool of aged tile and the first cold water jacuzzi I have ever seen. Right near it is a row of thirty foot tall palm trees. The one nearest the jacuzzi has a gorgeous purple and white orchid growing out of it. On the other side of the swimming pool is another row of a dozen palm trees. They grow right through a shade awning with lounge chairs under it.
Geckos are everywhere. None of them are selling insurance.
Right behind the pool is the restaurant where guests enjoy a buffet breakfast including scrambled and hard boiled eggs, vegetable combo, stir-fried noodles, potatoes, various sugared juice drinks, coffee, tea, and a few other choices.
Many European countries are represented by visitors here in the city of Siem Reap, as are Japan, China, Korea, and other Asian countries. There are Indians, a few Muslims, Abercrombie and Fitch Americans, various hippies, and many other internationals dodging the naked little Cambodian children that dance in the spray of garden hoses as their families tend shops. There are camera toting people of nearly all races and many national origins.
The Wi-Fi and most other things available here work somewhat, kind of, maybe, much of the time. No matter where in the world you are, nothing works all the time. This fact is a lot more pronounced in a third world nation. The Tanei does a good job considering they are working with the limited modern technological resources of the region. There’s a Catch 22 about countries like this, it being that your money goes a long way—but you can’t buy what they don’t have. Regardless, at twenty dollars a night, the Tanei doesn’t hear many complaints.
For me, the best part of the hotel is the smiling, friendly, amenable staff. I have recently spent a lot of time in hotels in America that provide shit accommodations and snarling staffs at expensive prices, and then expect the customers to be grateful for the screwing they are getting. The Tanei is a much welcomed change from that, even though “hot water” means it’s just a little bit less cold than the cold water, things like TVs and telephones don’t always work, and the Internet is questionable.
The food in the tourist district is delicious, but a lot of it is heavily fried, salted, or sugared. It would be a safe guess that they don’t use the health food store kind of oil when frying. Oddly enough, the food from the street vendors may be among the healthiest around—and the tastiest. Much of it is grilled right in front of the customer and uses no oil or apparent additives. There has to be a salad and other altogether healthy food in this country somewhere, but I have yet to find it—except for one bowl of vegetable noodle soup from a street shack restaurant that was magically medicinal!
The bread here is mostly industrial cafeteria white and looks like cardboard. It makes Wonder Bread seem like real food. The diet, as well as the rural poverty, lack of medical facilities and sanitation, and the hot wet weather that bacteria love are largely to blame for urban Cambodia’s small health risks to tourists and natives alike. It’s not as bad as it sounds at first. A little care, awareness, hydration, and moderation keeps most folks healthy.
Stepping out of the hotel brings one in to a whole different world. I will find a much quieter apartment very soon, but am now in an area close to Pub Street and the Night Market. This section of town is the Times Square of the city and is designed for tourists, but hosts everyone. It has small markets, massage emporiums, bars, travel agents and tour guides, clothing stores, and restaurants. Traffic is heavy. The dust and pollution causes many locals to wear surgical masks while walking in the street or riding on their vehicles. I have followed their lead.
The traffic is made up mostly of motorbikes and tuk-tuks. A tuk-tuk is a glorified motorbike taxi with a cart attached to the back capable of carrying four passengers. At least eight or ten tuk-tuk drivers will hit on you during a three block walk, offering rides, tours, girls, or weed. They can be aggressive, as can everyone trying to make a living around here. Massage girls, barkers in front of restaurants and tour places, and anyone selling anything will get up in your face about it.
I find ganja here on the first day. My twenty dollar bag from a tuk-tuk driver named Mister Khompat works pretty well for brown stuff. It is going to take some research to find anything green to smoke around here. Life will be okay until I find it. They have Happy Pizza here. The same decent-for-brown type weed as Mr. Khompat’s is a regular ingredient in Khmer (Cambodian) cooking. It is not a tripping type experience like my Green Mountain Green Monster Bud cookies in Vermont, but I certainly am relaxed and happy after doing half of an apple pie sized pizza. Just to give you an idea of what the prices are like around here, that buzz cost three dollars and the full fish dinner I had after it cost two and a half.
The fruit is delicious. The high temperatures are consistently ninety degrees Fahrenheit with heavy humidity during the “cool season” of December through February, so plant growth is not a problem all year. There are the regular papayas and bananas and pineapples that one might expect to be growing in a climate like this. There are also fruits so exotic that they look manufactured to many Westerners. The dragonfruit is about the size of a grapefruit. It has red, jagged, multilayered skin that houses a white fruit containing thousands of tiny black dots that resemble poppy seeds. It looks spooky but tastes delicious.
Buddhist temples are everywhere. Many contain the area’s public primary and high schools. The grounds of the temple can cover anywhere from a square block to a square acre. Any temple grounds’ central feature is always the main temple itself. I go into several to see the artwork and icons, meditate, and feel the vibe. Interior artwork often includes paintings depicting episodes in the life of the historical Buddha. The stories are partly literal but mostly metaphorical. There are some museum quality images of Buddha’s birth, Buddha climbing down from a higher heaven to help in lower heavens and on Earth, and so on. There are many statues and images of the historical Buddha in each temple. These are designed to be a focal point, working as an inspiration for people to instill Buddha-like qualities within themselves. Buddha is widely known as having been an enlightened man, not a god. He was, among other things, the world’s greatest psychologist. Folks with their finger on the pulse of Buddhism don’t actually pray to him so much as aspire to become like him. The Buddha himself was famous for saying that no one should blindly believe anything he ever said, but should rather examine everything on their own to determine if it is gold or bullshit. (Likely not his exact wording.) This is not a religion like others where a God or Messiah is going to come save everyone. It starts with personal growth and saving oneself. A truly realized self always radiates such a quality out into the world, and simply by its presence does its part to save everyone. No coercion or conversion of another is necessary, or encouraged. It could be said that this is not a religion at all, but much more so a spiritual practice or a school of thought.
In a form of self programming, constant repetition of and focused meditation on phrases referring to positive qualities (love, compassion, strength, etc.) eventually instill these qualities in the person that practices focusing on them. Do enough of this meditation, and the neurons in your brain start wiring and firing on these ideal sentiments consistently. This is only one form of meditation. There are many.
Any person with eyes in their heart, or at least a little bit of sensitivity, that walks onto any temple grounds can immediately feel the difference in atmosphere from that of the outside world. This feeling may be best described by the animals. The many wandering dogs and cats on the downtown streets get little respect from, and scurry nervously around, most humans. But dogs and cats on temple grounds lie down or saunter around comfortably wherever they damn well please. They seem to be in a meditative state of their own and have no fear of humans. They usually pay little to no attention to human passers-by. Temple animals act like they own the place and in theory, as fellow living sentient beings, it is considered by all that to some extent they do own the place as much as anyone else does! Buddhism uses the term “sentient beings” often. What does it mean? The words “sem chen” mean “mind possessor.” So compassion for all sentient beings means compassion for anything with a mind. What does that mean? Good question! Many would argue that most plants know enough to turn towards the sun, and that qualifies them as having a consciousness or mind. Others think not.
Among the many other buildings besides the main temple are several incredible pieces of architecture. Many include ancient carved stone columns depicting deities of compassion. Sculpture is on everything from mausoleums for the dead through a vast assortment of spiritual structures. There are also ornate and boldly colored wooden buildings that are curved and carved into shapes that resemble waves rising and falling in an ocean. Many of the other buildings, especially the schools and monks quarters, are more ordinary concrete and wood structures.
The only thing things that appear in Siem Reap, Cambodia as frequently as temples are restaurants and massage parlors. Most parlors appear legit, with girls and massage tables right out front behind the glass doors and windows. I go into one that gives this appearance but am immediately taken into a back room. The five dollar half hour massage is just a precursor to an offer for a twenty dollar hand job. The woman sits on my back and grinds her fully clothed vagina into me while rubbing my neck and shoulders. Then she flips me over and massages the abdomen right into the pubic hair. All this is obviously not a therapeutic effort but rather an attempt to give me a hard on I can’t argue with. She asks if I want the more expensive jerk off. I can’t see paying her to do something done much better myself, and tell her so. I will try a different massage parlor next time. I’m sure some of them actually focus on the massage itself—or at least offer more varied services.
I don’t know if everyone has a favorite tuk-tuk driver, but I do. Sarath picked me up at the airport. He is about an inch or two below five feet tall and might weigh a hundred pounds soaking wet. Nonetheless he can sling my awkward fifty pound duffel bag on to the cab of his tuk-tuk as if it weighed nothing at all. He speaks English very well and seems to enjoy doing it. I have the hotel desk call him whenever I need a ride because Sarath always brings a smile, good personal stories, local information, and a fair price.
On today’s trip Sarath tells me about how his leg got crushed by a car and he can’t stand on it much. This is why he became a tuk-tuk driver. He also describes the Cambodian government. They seem to have many of the same problems that the American government has, including questionable elections. What I hear from the tourists of various nations about town is that the questionable elections thing seems to be an ever increasing international happening.
The hotel I am in is great, but in the middle of way too much traffic and pollution. Today’s tuk-tuk trip is about finding an apartment that is a little bit out of the main downtown area. Sarath, as always, is a great help. He knows a place. It turns out to be a very good place and I will move in there within a few days. Two hundred fifty dollars a month for a one bedroom with air conditioner, wi-Fi, TV, furnished, combination kitchen/living room, and hot water. The water and the gas for the stove cost extra. It also has a gorgeous swimming pool on the roof and an even more gorgeous view to accompany it. There is a small gym with a bit of weight lifting equipment near the pool. It seems to be an odd and eccentric tendency around here that luxuries often come before the basics. You may move into a place with a Beverly Hills looking swimming pool but no hot water in your room. You may have a bed that feels like concrete and has only a bottom sheet, walls and floors with tile stains everywhere, but a marble fountain in the lobby to rival The Ritz.
The apartment building is on a relatively quiet street facing a river that’s not very pretty, but a river nonetheless. The place is far enough out of town to be breathable, but close enough so that a two or three dollar tuk-tuk ride gets you right back into the middle of the action.
In the heart of that action where I still live for the next few days, adjoining Pub Street, is the famous Angkor Night Market. No one seems to sleep around here! Tourists are bending the clock into manic shapes while trying to see every sight available within the week or two they have in Cambodia. The locals are up at the crack of dawn and heading to work, but won’t be denied their evening party. The Night Market and Pub Street is where everyone converges.
The main part of the Siem Reap Night Market contains several rows of stores. Each row houses around thirty stores separated by metal dividers under a single tin roof structure. Some of the items available in the stores are: clothing, fabric, watches, jewelry, preserved bug and bat skeletons, artwork, Buddhist icons and meditation beads, cigarettes, baskets and assorted crafts, stuffed and carved animals, and bottles of whiskey with a dead scorpion and cobra floating in each. I shit you not! The lady says, “It give energy.”
From the main pavilion, the market spills over into the outlying streets. Rows of restaurants, bars, clothing stores and massage parlors as well as food booths are everywhere. The two most interesting food booths are right next to each other. The first serves deep-fried snakes, scorpions, silk worms, cockroaches, grasshoppers, and other assorted tasty critters. The booth next to it sells fried ice cream. They call it that, but it is actually milk and fruit being continually blended together in a large baking pan with a refrigerator unit below it that must hold liquid nitrogen. After five to ten minutes of blending and flattening and rolling and flipping, the fruit and milk became one blended thin layer of frozen confection that is rolled up in sheets to be stuffed in a cup.
The Night Market nearly runs right into Pub Street. The combination creates a very big, lively, and loud entertainment district.
Sohk
I am suffering severe cramps all over my body. They are a result of hauling too many duffel bags around the world in ninety degree humid heat, badly aggravating a decades long history of skeletal/muscular problems. The change in diet probably has something to do with it too. A legit massage has become a major necessity. I walk into a place so out in the open that it seems sure to not be another hand job palace disguised as a massage therapist castle.
Sohk is the name of my massage lady. She is thirty-nine years old, very cute, and gave me the best hour-long foot rub I have had since the privilege of being reflexologized by the legendary Shelby Shue of Truth or Consequences, New Mexico. Sohk cannot speak any English, but the other two ladies in the establishment can. I call them both “sister,” which they like a lot, and we carry on a friendly conversation. Part of that conversation makes it clear to them, and they make it clear to Sohk, that I need my back and legs done after the feet. All the time I keep looking back at Sohk while talking to the sisters. You must’ve heard the expression, “she has a smile that would light up a room.” Sohk had it, kept it on her face the whole time, and I couldn’t look away from it. The sisters noticed.
“You like her. She likes you. Take her back to your room for the back and legs massage! She can be your girlfriend. You take care of her and she will take care of you. Massage you every day.”
They say something to Sohk in Cambodian that makes her giggle like a schoolgirl and give me a little pinch. I give her a smile and nod, and we’re off to my room.
I strip down into nothing but massage-able skin and lay on my stomach to begin the back rub. After about ten minutes of beautiful rub, the rising heat coming from behind me as well as within me can no longer be ignored. I roll over and start undressing Sohk, with her cooperation, as we kiss. Our lips separate to nibble at each others’ necks. My way has always been “ladies first, whenever possible.” I move on to caress and lick her torso until my tongue reaches between her legs. Imagine my surprise as she pushes me away! I’ve never known anyone to not like oral sex, at least not when it is being done to them. Maybe “ladies first” is an unusual concept in Asia? Testing that theory, I reposition myself for some oral sex from her. She nibbles reluctantly for a minute and then pulls away.
The romance is there, but the techniques are from two different planets. She tries to missionary position me into entry, but I am so taken aback by the whole situation that I lose my inspiration.
This is a completely novel and shocking experience to me. All evidence points to the fact that they just don’t do oral sex around here—whether it is with a soon to be serious lover who is really interested in the person they are with or just a passing massage parlor acquaintance making a living.
I continue to enjoy the rest of the massage, and Miss Sohk’s continuing playful, smiling company. We tickle each other and laugh. We continue to bring up good feelings for each other and the warmth remains between us. I may still go back for legit massages, but am certainly saddened by the stillbirth of what might have been a beautiful long term romance. I look at certain things as essential in a romantic relationship. Oral sex is just one of them. It seems so bizarre that in a country with comfortably relaxed, liberal sexual customs—and occupied for a century or two by the French, no less— that isn’t one of them!
I guess I’ll just have to keep knocking at that door until I find a woman who enjoys my walking through it.
There is another piece of knowledge about relationship essentials that has been reinforced in spades from this experience. It is about how important communication figures into any union. The next woman I attempt a relationship with will have to speak at least a bit of English or Spanish. I am going to start studying Cambodian. Certain things just need to be spoken about. What are your feelings about tomorrow’s plans, where would you like to go for dinner, and who the hell doesn’t like oral sex and why, all fall into that category. A mutual respect, a chemistry that can’t be denied, and a warm loving smile may be the backbone of intimate relationship, but communication is the muscle structure that holds that backbone upright and prevents it from collapsing into dust.
A bit more of a shocking revelation to me about my personal relationship essentials is that I may need to give and receive simple affectionate attention as much, if not more so, than complex sexual activity. I feel strangely satisfied for someone left unsatisfied. Mutual feelings of love and kindness stemming from honest affection are obviously responsible.
Affection, at times, seems even more important than food or water. Maybe it always is. Maybe it’s not just me. Maybe that’s true for everyone.
***NEXT—?THE RUINS OF ANGKOR WAT, THE LARGEST TEMPLE EVER CONSTRUCTED ON EARTH?, and ?THE DRAGON NEIGHBORHOOD?, and—?WELL, I DON’T KNOW YET, EITHER! ***If you missed the Intro to this third book that the above piece is from and would like to see it, just check a post back on WordPress, or see the Fearless Puppy website blog, or send an email request to jahbuddha13@hotmail.com This is a book in progress. You are seeing it here as I write it! And as it says in the Intro, it is a totally true story and may be the only book ever written by a corpse!***The books Fearless Puppy On American Road and Reincarnation Through Common Sense by this same author, as well as sample chapters by, very entertaining tv/radio interviews with, and newspaper articles about him are available at http://www.fearlesspuppy.info p.s. Titles being kicked around for this new book are Racing Death Around The Planet and Voices Of Reason From The End(s) Of The World

 

Corpse Writes New Book!

                                 YOU NEVER HAVE OR WILL READ ANYTHING ELSE LIKE IT
I was going to die a few months ago, but decided it might be more fun to hang around an extra year or two and write a third book. I guarantee it will be different from anything else you have ever read. In an unusual move, I am giving y’all on social media the prepublication version of the Introduction to Voices of Reason from the Ends of the World. I will keep posting a piece of this book now and then as it is being written, until the book is finished or The Reaper says I am.
INTRODUCTION
My name is Tenzin Kharma Trinley. In English that means “The Activity of the Buddha Teaching.” There are only two reasons that I haven’t killed you or several people just like you yet—Sergeant Pepper and LSD.
I grew up as the lone Jewish maniac in a Sicilian Mafia neighborhood. At 14 years old I became the only person to ever take Killer Tortorelli’s best punch and not go down, as well as the only person to ever back down a half-dozen Mafia kids at knifepoint. This earned me enough respect to survive the rest of my childhood, and the nickname “The Crazy Jew.” The neighborhood folks looked at me as a sort of reincarnation of Benjamin “Bugsy” Siegel, the legendary Jewish gangster famous for violent insanity, altruism, and an idea that has since become Las Vegas.
I was surely on the road to becoming a contract killer at about the time puberty kicked into high gear. Non-Sicilians on the fringe of the mob never did well in the long run—not in Brooklyn in the early 1960s. Even the organization’s best friend, if not full Sicilian by parentage, could count on eventually being used as a fall guy to take the rap for a Sicilian “family” member. I was saved from this and many other deadly fates by a hallucinogenic drug and a collection of 13 songs.
My diet-pill-and-tranquilizer-addled parents listened for years to their unstable child whine about getting a dog. They finally gave in with the promise that in two weeks we would drive from Brooklyn to the Long Island Bide-A-Wee animal shelter and adopt a canine. I had big plans for the animal. Its name would be Assassin. I immediately built a dummy of old clothes stuffed with newspapers. The plan was to teach the animal how to attack and kill humans. I impatiently waited and planned for the day when Assassin’s training could begin.
As my plans were taking shape, fate kicked the shit out of them. I guess it would be more accurate to say that fate knocked me into a whole new world where plans like mine simply could not exist. Sergeant Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band album was released and I started doing LSD during that two weeks of waiting to adopt what would have been Assassin.
The dog was adopted and named Sgt. Pepper. She became the gentlest, kindest dog in the neighborhood. She was also a big hit with all the neighbors because in the 1960s, my German shepherd/boxer mix was the only female sergeant in existence. She was especially popular with the old folks, who laughed until they near wet themselves at the concept of a female sergeant. Everybody loved her. The dummy was eventually used for a (nearly) harmless Halloween prank and then destroyed. I spent the rest of my life as a wannabe do-gooder instead of a short-lived hitman.
Now, over five decades later, I have almost completely dissolved the personality of that deranged teenager. It took a lot of cross-country travel without ever driving a car, study without classrooms, and do-gooder efforts and charity projects for others while often remaining homeless myself. It also took a consistent faith in no describable thing and a consistent determination to go any place. There was no cell phone full of friends’ numbers and no bank account for backup. This was not always a rewarding modus operandi. Evolution was not a smooth path for me. Mistakes were made. There were several slips, falls, and blatant fuck-ups. There still are some. But they are now a lot fewer and milder than they used to be. The whole process is described in the books Fearless Puppy on American Road and Reincarnation Through Common Sense. You can also find out something about it in the About Author/Media section’s TV/radio interviews and newspaper articles at www.fearlesspuppy.info
The best explanation of how I turned myself from a semi-crazed animal into a more or less decent human being is contained within this old Cherokee legend.
A boy asked his grandmother, “Why are some people so good and some people so bad?” The 80-year-old Cherokee woman answered, “There are two wolves that live inside every person. One is good and one is evil. These two wolves are constantly fighting with each other for possession of the person’s spirit. They may find occasional places to compromise out of necessity, but essentially they are always at war with each other.” The grandson responded, “Which wolf wins, Grandmother?” Grandmother smiled and gently stroked the boy’s face. She powered her gaze right through her grandson’s eyes and into his heart as she answered, “Whichever one you feed, my love. Whichever one you feed.”
I am 68 years old. Many folks tell me that I am the happiest person they ever met. I have had a nightmarish childhood, several chronic disabling problems, and a couple of terminal illnesses—so the doctors tell me. But at least three of the doctors who told me I’d be dead by now have died themselves. Many others have just been flat-out wrong with other diagnoses, prescriptions, and predictions. It just goes to show you that a formal education isn’t everything these days. Back when medicine was a profession instead of an industry, I may have believed those doctors. I may have been more polite and died out of respect for them.
As a young man I was brought to a hospital supposedly dead of an overdose. They gave me a shot of adrenaline in the heart. It didn’t work. One doctor pronounced me dead. Another said no. He gave me another shot. That one worked. It taught me just how wrong some doctors can be, and just how right some others are.
But nearly 50 years later, now that half of our American doctors have shown a diseased integrity that only used-car salesman and high-level politicians were previously famous for, I usually tell them to go fuck themselves and take care of any problem myself. I recently made a mistake and took a long-term medication given me by a naturopath who didn’t know his ass from a hole in the ground. It resulted in what looked to be a fatal aggravation to an already problematic liver. Two doctors said I had liver cancer. The “specialist” said I had six months to live. That was in October of 2018. Do the math.
After half a year or more of heavy meditation, highly focused breathing, Rick Simpson oil, apricot seeds (laetrile/B17), Chaga mushrooms, steam rooms and hot tubs, high potency Milk Thistle, lots of vitamins, herbs, raw juices, and of course dietary adjustments and lifestyle changes, I’m still here and having fun. Those vampire pimps for the pharmaceutical industry didn’t put this smile on my face. I’m not going to let them take it off. I thank Holy Space for these natural remedies.
I have many friends that are nurses. I am very grateful for them too.
Doctors deal with diseases. Nurses deal with people. They can sometimes help to fix what a doctor screws up.
All that being said, and conquered diseases notwithstanding, I still must admit to being an old man. If you have read Fearless Puppy on American Road and Reincarnation Through Common Sense, you know that my aging bones have a lot of hard miles on them. Logic dictates that I be put out to pasture to enjoy the better memories. But if you have read those books, you know that’s not going to happen.
I’m going to make a voyage completely around the world. Everyone tells me that no one my age, and especially no one with a rapidly disintegrating skeletal structure as well as a diagnosed terminal illness, should make such a journey. But we all have to die sooner or later, and I have a mission to accomplish before I do.
Most of my friends who have been abroad lately tell me that there is no place else on Earth as morally bankrupt, lacking integrity, crumbling apart from the inside, and as intimidating and repulsive to its neighbors as America. There is plenty of evidence to support their claims, but I still don’t like to believe them. I have to go see for myself. If it is true that no place sucks quite as badly as America does, I want to find out why. What are other places doing that we would benefit from doing ourselves? And more importantly, why are we not doing those things? What things are the other places doing that don’t work for them? Why aren’t they fixing their own messes? What are the ways people keep smiling, laughing, and loving life while fighting to repair a world that is mentally as well as physically ill, often disgusting, and may well have a more severely terminal illness than I do? How do folks keep the fun happening in the midst of all the tragedy?
I’ll report back to you from each location, for your entertainment. But if you find anything within the fun stories that seems even more important than entertainment, feel free to use it.
Don’t worry if people look at you like you’re crazy while you do that. Remember that the only people who ever change the world are the ones crazy enough to think they can.
Being “crazy,” in our culture, often means that you just have a different way of seeing things. That can be a very good thing just as easily as it can be a very bad thing. Sure, Hitler and Idi Amin were crazy. But Mother Teresa, the Dalai Lama, and Copernicus were also said to be crazy, by many people who intended the word as an insult. Those critics didn’t realize just how helpful so-called crazy can be if managed with a loving intelligence.
The medicines helped, but the real reason I am not dead yet is the fact that I am a little crazy. That statement itself may seem crazy to you. Maybe I can explain better with this little story from the brilliant Indian mystic, Sadhguru.
“On a certain day, one cow asked another ‘So what is your opinion about the Mad Cow Disease?’ The other cow responded, ‘I don’t give a hoot! I am a helicopter’!”
The ancient Chinese mystic Lao Tse put it this way. “There is no fear of tiger’s tooth, no danger from rhino’s horn. There is no place for death to enter.”
Understand? If not, no problem. I’m pretty sure it will make perfect sense to you by the time you finish this book.

 

How To Love A Sociopath And Why It Is So Important To Do So

                       How To Love A Sociopath And Why It Is So Important To Do So

Fearless Puppy Congratulations! You have opened something that is not about the American presidential campaign!

Some of us may have an extra drink occasionally or smoke more than a sensible amount of weed now and then. Others may fudge a number here or there on our taxes. We’ve all literally and figuratively farted in public at least once in our lives—but few humans are as universally toxic as upper level politicians. By now we know that both candidates are a perverse distortion of democracy. Neither they nor any other bad actor on the political stage will be mentioned again here.

This article is about us real people.

Several folks have asked me the same very interesting question. It is possible that someone has asked you this same question, too! Here’s a short paragraph of backstory.

I have some friends (Democrat and Republican) that are politically conservative. Well, they like to think of themselves as Conservatives. As is true for most Americans I know who describe themselves as serious Conservatives regardless of party affiliation, these friends could more accurately be called Regressives. In mind-bending contrast to the personal kindness and generosity they often show to friends and family, these folks seem to turn a blind eye to the cruelty and consequences of our national actions. They don’t really want to conserve anything so much as they want to regress into ways of life that have, at least in part, been rightfully done away with already. These folks hate (i.e. are scared of) certain religions and races en masse. They love everyone in a uniform regardless of the actions performed by the people wearing those uniforms. They defend police brutality and military aggression as long as these actions are disguised as quasi-holy freedom-and-security crusades. These are the people who believe they don’t need to go through all the uncomfortable work of checking their attitudes or the facts because Fox News has already done that for them. My few conservative/regressive friends also, and in spite of all the evidence to the contrary, seem to have strong ties to the Middle Ages regarding an inherited, habitual belief in a God who is always on their side during any conflict. They have never heard Ann LaMott’s quote “If your God hates the same people you do, you have created God in your image.” (Italics are mine.)

Here is the question that my more progressive friends ask me. “Whether Christian, Muslim, Buddhist, American, Saudi Arabian, Chinese, or otherwise—how can you hang out with sociopathic psychopatriots? What common ground could you possibly have with these people? Their attitudes aren’t much different than the attitudes of witch burners a few centuries ago.”

I have a few answers. Here they are.

The common ground I have with my conservative friends is the same common ground I have with you. We are all human beings. As humans, we are each equally desirous and deserving of happiness. We all want to be and have a right to be free from unnecessary suffering. This unified mind, this unanimous human direction of desiring happiness and bare minimal suffering is where each of us lives. Our realization of and respect for this common ground we share with all living things is humanity’s one and only possibility for attaining global sanity. That is why the Gandhis, Bernies, and Dalai Lamas keep trying to remind us of it. We all forget this basic fact too often. Honoring this common ground means making a serious effort to be as kind to every other person as one is to one’s self. The system also requires that one treat one’s self as a best friend. “Every other person” includes, of course, people of all political inclinations (as well as all races, nationalities, sexes, etcetera).

The few so-called conservative folks I know are so sweet and kind to the individual humans and animals they personally know, that I can love them for that alone. If that type of compassion spread itself around a little more, this would be a much better world. These regressive friends provide many learning experiences and a constant source of amazement for me, but they also show me how similar we all are. The contrast between the callous disregard they have for so many people who are just as human as the few people they regard so deeply is a schism that happens to some degree in each of us. An exaggerated ego attachment and sense of possession regarding things and people we consider “our own” is too often the defining characteristic of what many people call love. It is often mistaken for being love itself! Noticing this reminds me of how much work needs to be done within each of us, as well as the work that needs to be done in national and global arenas. “The only devils in this world live in our hearts, and it is there that all our battles should be fought.” Gandhi

My view of the “we’re all in this together” thing has to take on more depth and an increased, if ironical, sense of conviction after talking for a while with a regressive person. I am forced to realize that many otherwise wonderful or potentially wonderful people were badly programmed, brainwashed, and damaged—shaped since birth by a lot of inherited bullshit. This bullshit ranges from being as relatively harmless as the Santa Claus and Tooth Fairy myths all the way to the fatal notions that a God living in the sky wants us to kill people or that Nature is here to be dominated by humans. Each specific piece of this bullshit has been consistently reinforced throughout many generations, as well as during each individual’s lifetime, by the nearly constant and highly hypnotic volume of general misinformation fed to us by our culture.

People who once seemed “inherently evil” to me now seem to have the injured glow of abused children about them. You don’t throw sick children away. You help them to get as well as they can, as well as they will allow themselves to be. A lot of these regressive folks have never been hungry, homeless, brutalized, or had a bomb dropped on them for no reason. They have no first-hand concept of what those things feel like. But it goes deeper than that. Not only have they no base-station cognizance, much less experience, for the broader type of compassion to emanate from—they don’t want one. I can’t really blame them! No one wants to feel bad. Many people choose to remain willfully ignorant of the suffering of others—even if it means swallowing some bullshit explanation of that suffering in order to whitewash sympathetic pain and guilt from their minds. Many folks would rather see the wool that has been pulled over their eyes than see the less pleasant truth that would appear without it.

Denial of the painful moral inconveniences that are part of human reality has, to a sad and destructive extent, become the prime directive for many of us. To deny existence of our dilemmas may be convenient in the short run, but it kills any chance of finding solutions for those problems in the long run. It is much more comfortable to wear an inexpensive shirt if you block out or stay ignorant of the fact that it was produced by slave labor. It is easier to enjoy your gasoline-abundant road trips if you convince your self (or allow media-made popular consensus to convince you) that dropping bombs on innocent civilians in oil pimping countries is an effort to liberate victims of dictatorship. That blurry amendment to reality is a lot more palatable than facing the fact that many needless murders of innocent civilians help bring your gasoline to you. These types of moral malfunctions might be resolved with a little thought, effort, and compassionate tactical adjustment—but if they are not given appropriate attention, they can grow into cultural cancers that painfully eat a society and crap it into history’s sewer system.

There is also a deluded but very understandable logic to the regressive person’s tendency to deny problems and instead blame the victim. It is, for example, much easier to scapegoat poor people than it is to face the massive and amorphous job of solving poverty. The logic-of-convenience that allows scapegoating has no truth to it. But, much like everything else we choose to delude ourselves with, it makes perfect sense once you’ve bought the lie.

Nonetheless, and in spite of their tendency to replace objective reality with subjective beliefs, there is a human being and possibly a fine one under the seemingly sociopathic veneer of many a Conservative/Regressive. How can a person who thinks in terms of us/them be helped to see The Big We? Can we communicate the realization that both Yankee and Red Sox fans, strangers, friends, and enemies all equally deserve to enjoy happiness and a release from unnecessary suffering? What can we say that will make a person understand that happiness is doubly important because almost no one kills while they are smiling? How do we get folks to drop a little blind believing in exchange for some open-eyed thinking? How can we help our fellow humans to progress past fear, inherited ignorance, and cultural hypnosis? Maybe we can’t. But if we can, kindness and honesty presented in a respectful and non-combative form are the answers. Hatred and fear cannot survive long-term doses of truth and love.

These doses may be most potent during the immediate moment when we are actually being honest and loving with each other, but the more profound and lasting effect of all this truth and kindness requires time to solidify in the hearts and minds of our regressive friends—and it requires patience and consistency on our parts. No one ever actually changes anyone else’s mind for them. Every person is their own therapist, makes their own decisions, and has the last word about the directions their mind and life will take. But we can certainly open new avenues of thought and point to potential doorways for each other.

The presentation of these new ideas and doorways will rarely rate any attention from a listener unless that presentation is done without condescension or defensiveness.

On the other and much less productive side of this coin, any loss of patience or lack of respect for those we are talking with, any angry/frustrated arguing and screaming, only feeds the fire. Ignorance thrives on battlegrounds. Evidence against regressive thought needs to be presented strongly, confidently, and politely with a genuine concern for the person you are speaking with—without any anger, condescension, or scorn toward them. This kinder approach can eventually dissolve any ignorance.

Other valuable tools are also available. There is plenty of evidence we can site from popular sources that will impress our deluded brethren. It would be easy to show them where many respected public figures that they put stock in, from Jesus and Mohammed to Magic Johnson and Kris Kristofferson, have spoken out against bigotry, war, corruption, and the like. The right historical quote can relate strongly to present-day situations and might make a big impact on folks who are clinging to no-longer-relevant or downright delusional attitudes. Humor helps too. “If you’re going to tell people the truth, you better make it funny or they’ll kill you” Oscar Wilde.

Any quote that helps to make sanity’s point and keeps the people we are speaking with comfortably engaged is a quote worth using. “Regardless of the source, any phrase of proven truth that serves a noble purpose should speak its truth and serve its purpose.” OK, I just made that shit up—but in our age of search engines you can find a quote to fit any occasion, if you aren’t too stoned to go look for it.

Gently presenting alternative information to a partially clouded, somewhat fossilized mind may take months, years, or even generations. It can seem just as frustrating as the proverbial process of shoveling shit against the tide—but there is no better choice of action. Trying to explain the intricacies of global warming or the kharmic disadvantages of killing civilians to someone holding onto their materialized literal beliefs can leave us feeling like we might as well try to kick water uphill. Concretized misinterpretations of things that were written long ago as symbolic references can provide a severe test of any one’s patience. It can be mind-warping to attempt to speak sensibly with folks who have a firm belief in a white-skinned God that: is always on their side, loves America more than any other country, created Earth in six 24-hour days, asked penguins to toodle halfway up the globe in order to catch Noah’s boat ride, and through an adulterous affair with a virgin had a boy child named Jesus who liked to ride around on dinosaurs. But speaking sensibly to the folks who are making the least sense desperately needs to be done—and it needs to be done with a smile! It is very important to remember that every revolution is really an evolution. Anything that seems to occur spontaneously has actually been on a very long trail of grind-it-out activity leading up to that event.

I’m driven to drink (admittedly a short trip) while trying to explain things as basic as the fact that killing people for profit is wrong. The world is very painfully facing the obvious truth of that right now, yet there are still so many folks who believe that killing people solves more problems than killing the greed in people.

Changes (outside of self) don’t happen as or when we want them to. You can’t take a cake out of the oven before it is done. Logical realities will only ripen and surface in the regressive mind when they are ready to do so—the same as they do in your mind or mine. That is when the change happens and things can improve. But unless we keep our brains, hearts, compassion, patience, convictions, honesty, internal strength, loving kindness, respect, determination, and structural integrity to the grindstone on a very regular basis, improvements will never follow. The pissed-off dismay took a long time growing strong enough to spread through the American and French psyches in the 1700s before the colonists dumped tea into Boston Harbor or Marie Antoinette had her date with the guillotine. That type of violence is no longer an option—but boldly stating the case for universal decency, as Jefferson and Rousseau did for decades before their revolutions ripened, will never go out of style. Neither will Gandhi’s ideas about non-cooperation with evil.

We are now in a time and situation where triggering off gunshots or oiling up guillotines won’t work. The “fight fire with fire” mentality is actually what we need to eliminate. Its previous results are what we are trying to repair. Fighting fire with fire doesn’t work. It has never worked. It produces bigger fires sparked by more advanced arsonists. Ask any Fireman. You fight fire with water, or smother it by using sand or chemicals. The flame loses its source of oxygen and suffocates out of existence. Sanity and honesty presented with patience and kindness can suck the oxygen out of fear and ignorance, and then repair damage from traumatic experience and misinformation.

I have heard folks defend police who shot a man although both of his weaponless arms were already pinned to the ground. I have heard people defend the needless murder of innocent foreign civilians and the death of our own misled American soldiers. I have heard folks say so very many things to rationalize their own fears, selfishness, and human frailty—that people with a different imaginary friend than they have are damned to hell, that Native Americans/Blackfolks/Tibetans/Jews/Indians/etc. are uncivilized and savage people who needed to be abused for their own good, that hungry and homeless people all deserve their plight, that obscenely irresponsible and blatantly greedy industrialization haven’t brutally damaged our environment, that foods containing more petroleum and toxins than nutrition are good for you, and so much more. It is easy for me to think, as the bumper stickers say, “If Jesus was here, he’d slap the shit out of you” and “Your god must have had a sharp stick up his almighty ass when he created you.” It is very easy to get angry at all the injustice and ignorance that allows so much painful and unnecessary suffering to continue. If I’m sick or have a bad day, the thought can briefly run across my mind that, “If someone would just bury this idiot in the hills, at least there would be one less idiot.” But I very quickly remember that: 1—becoming an asshole myself won’t help.2—truth, intelligence, patience, and real compassion are the only things that will help. 3—right now, the only things that matter are the things that will help.

Using kinder, more helpful, nobler qualities is our only chance to reach the folks who (although they may be quite wonderful to the individuals they know personally) are political and religious sociopaths due to inherited ignorance, hypnotic fears, and the ever-continuing programmed reinforcement of this ignorance and these fears by our culture.

Using kinder, nobler, and more helpful qualities is also my one and only chance of keeping myself in tow! The kindness I need to muster in order to be a decent human, to speak with folks that I strongly disagree with in a calm and respectful way, reminds me that life is about cooperation. It is a joint venture that must attempt to benefit all and hurt none. Ideas like these are valuable tools that keep me from getting frustrated to the point where I may start doing more harm than good. They protect me from becoming an angry jackass and lashing out at others—or myself. I hope I remember to use these tools more often. I hope you do too. Fearless Puppy

EMERGENCY TELEGRAM FROM AN EXTRATERRESTRIAL TO THE INTERNATIONAL COMMUNITY OF EARTH

EMERGENCY TELEGRAM FROM AN EXTRATERRESTRIAL LIFE FORM TO THE INTERNATIONAL POPULATION OF EARTH. We are watching and trying to help you as best we can! Here is what we see right now. Nothing on your planet holds the immediate importance of getting Bernie past Hillary. The effort to do so needs undivided attention. Showing up negatives of Trump and the rest doesn’t seem the best use of time and energy right now. There will, unfortunately, be plenty of time for that later. This point gets away from us too, at times, as my brothers, sisters, and I watch you Earth folks bouncing off the walls from our dear home planet of Whatdafugaretheythinkin!. In order to keep our minds from wandering, and to insure that we follow through with the effort necessary to be helpful to you, we have had to put so many weird scenarios out of our minds. I’m sure you’ve had a couple run through your mind too. The Trump show, the blatant corruption of the Democratic party machine, the immoral press discrimination–not to mention the usual points of daily distraction (pandemic war, hunger, suffering, environmental violence, the cat pooping worms, the bills needing paid, etc.) can boggle the mind, lead to runaway imagination, and divert attention from Spring time’s primary Primary objective. I have listed below a few brain farts we have suffered while watching your process from here on Whatdafugaretheythinkin!. In the spirit of so much of the material we all read, please let me know if I’ve missed any other bullshit or flights of imagination that, like these, don’t deserve attention either. ***P.S. Option #3 may be a dream or hallucination. But I think most people (who have read this far) will agree that in this case the long shot is our best shot. Success is certainly possible. We see imagination become reality every day! Every manufactured thing, every system, every invention is an imaginative hallucination before it actually gets built into material existence. THE point is that Option #3 is worth manufacturing into reality but can’t stand a chance unless the primary step of getting Bernie past Hillary is accomplished. That means winning big enough so that all the superdelegate bullshit and all the corruption cannot usurp the will of the people. Putting in as much effort as possible may not do it. I respectfully urge all my Earthling friends and group members to surpass “possible” and put in as much effort as is necessary to get the job done. *P.S. To my many wonderful friends and all the group members in India, China, Australia, Europe, and elsewhere around the world; If you think American international policy couldn’t get any worse than it has been, you’re wrong. This is a serious situation. The results of this election will affect the entire world—again. Whatever noise you can make, whatever support you can muster for the side of peace and compassion will be heard, felt, and appreciated not only in the USA but throughout the world. In the best-case scenario we can have a chance to build the kind of world that sane, happy people want to live in. In the worst-case scenario, the next wrong U.S. president could yield results so bad that America’s most recent war-mongering era will seem like a few decades with Mother Teresa. American presidents may all be no more than symbolic stooges of the ultra-rich, but the popular vote lets the controlling few know just how much they can get away with all at once. If we send them the wrong signal now, humanity may never recover. If we send the right one, we may slow these war profiteers down for long enough to avoid a whole lot of suffering—and we could even get some problems fixed! Thank you. http://www.fearlesspuppy.org And now for our short list of Extraterrestrial brain farts, similar no doubt to some that are occurring in the minds of many Earthlings. Love and Peace from Planet Whatdafugaretheythinkin! Your Pal, Jahbuddha the Unconquerable 1—a) Trump gets snubbed by the Republican party and replaced by Jeb or Cruz. (This can certainly happen as the party chooses the candidate. The popular vote is an illusory process.) b) Trump gets killed by an assassin who says he “would have killed Hitler” if he could have. Don Drumph, at that point, is blown out of the human as well as the presidential race. Either way, a or b, the Trump followers spew violence and civil war in America. The country and the world are then further divided and conquered by the few people who already own everything. 2—Somebody blows Bernie away, saying he was an evil commie socialist. The assassin claims he “would have killed Hitler” if he could have. No one knows what might happen then. Liberal America doesn’t have the stupidity or the balls to violently revolt. A nationwide strike of non-cooperative inaction would make waves, but who knows if glorious India would have had the balls to do it if Gandhi had been capped before that famous “day of prayer and fasting” ever got off the ground? Regardless, we wouldn’t get total cooperation on this non-cooperation thing anyway, not even from folks of like mind. Americans don’t know how to cooperate that well anymore. Vastly expanded numbers of military/police folk would then be called in to man essential stations left vacant, thereby killing the desired effect of the general strike (and probably a few hundred protestors). The nation and the world then get further divided and conquered by the same few people who already own everything. 3—Bernie gets elected and the world moves toward Utopia. People regain their senses and start taking care of each other. Folks who were previously vicious scumbags have a great and sudden simultaneous epiphany and become big-hearted altruists. The people who own everything start giving it back to the people they took it from. (Of course we’d all settle for even some moderate, concrete, progress in these directions.) 4—Bernie gets elected but is hog-tied by the system. Nothing changes. The world is further divided and conquered by the few people who still own everything. 5—Trump wins the American presidency and America takes that last step to becoming the new Nazi nation. The world is further divided and conquered by the few people who own everything. All that was known as “civilization” is set back several centuries and human suffering is incalculable. 6—a) Hillary gets elected. Four to eight more years of business-as-usual (corruption, war, poverty, injustice, etc.) b) A different Republican than Trump gets elected president. Four to eight more years of business-as-usual (corruption, war, poverty, injustice, etc.) 6b has more of a mean streak than 6a and would likely be a more destructive option, but they are both owned by the same few people—yes, the ones who own everything and divide the rest of us so they can run off with the loot at a cost of great suffering by the vast majority. *Please help make the first step a reality. Ignore all the possible futures and work hard to get Bernie past the corruption now. We here on Planet Whatdafugaretheythinkin! would then develop a lot more confidence in your planet and might feel more comfortable about actually showing up there to help with the rest of the process. For the time being, we will watch from a little distance and help as we can. I gotta tell you the truth. No insult or disrespect intended. Watching your politics reminds us of watching monkeys throw shit balls at each other in the zoo. Make an ET brother want to land! Get your Bernie past the bullshit by any peaceful means necessary! Enjoy the effort. You’re going to meet some nice people.