Of Time and the Inconvenient Truth about Freedom and Democracy and of Farcical Elections

November 22, 2016

Much has been made of Election 2016 and no doubt the farce will continue with “New Revelations” from the Media, until the next one.

 Let us however consider the bottom line as presented by an independent Statistical Analyst.

 My source is:

 http://www.bbc.com/news/election/us2016/results

 It cannot be argued Trump was elected by a clear majority of Electoral Delegates.  It is done, and bar any disaster he will be sworn in as Potus on January 20th next.

 However, after all the hype let us look at the bottom line and you tell me who won and who lost the real election.  I am going to use percentages but drop the decimal points.  Qualified Analysts do it that way; if any other analyst finds fault with the method, you be the judge.

 In truth almost half of eligible American Voters decided not to take part in the farce and therefore did not vote; about 5% of the actual votes were cast for “others” that we must assume to be more than one because it is quoted in plural.

 In orderly societies free from Hollywood hype and the frantic and  fanatics of an immoral Media the small minority 5% for others may as well be discarded, or lumped in with the Non-voters.  Thus virtually exactly half of America did not vote in Election 2016.

 What the rest does clearly show is that America is still a strong two-party State; nothing shows that there has been any change.  And this time each of the remaining two candidates shared the vote, give or take, with the final choice so tight that only a fool will bother about it.

Allow me to summarize:

 Who won the White House?  Donald Trump did.

 Who won the election?  Nobody did.

 Who lost the Election?  America!

 Who won from the Election?  The Media did.

 Who lost from the Election?  All Americans lost.

 What have We the People gained from the Election?  Absolutely nothing.

 Out in Africa we sometimes say you can take them out of the bush but you can’t take the bush out of them.  Three quarters of Americans [that’s now the one half that didn’t vote plus the roughly 25% that voted for the Illary] still live in Hollywood of the mind; the incoming 2016 Government will have to try getting Hollywood out of them.  Maybe they can try, but I don’t have high hopes for that

 Note to President Elect:

 Mister Donald Trump, President Elect, Sir.

 We the People of the World salute you and look forward to calling you Mister President, Sir!  We supported you and this old humble guy will publish an Open Letter to you soon as he will also do to the honorable Presidents of Russia and China.  They aren’t going away and are in no hurry to leave to go away anywhere; you have shown a willingness to join hands with them; please do that soon for a better World for all of us.

 Ike Jakson

In Americus GA saka Americoon

ikejakson@gmail.com

 

The American Popess

November 19, 2016

By Windows Outlook Express Email from Ike Jakson whose great Cousin Oom Wennie runs this through IkeLeaks.  Modern IT has failed Mankind but where they have failed Bill Gates still runs the only sure and decent Email System and delivers it straight to your hard disc where you can keep it safe for posterity.  Blah Google Gmail, Blah Facebook, Blah all so-called Secure Sites in Internet or Cyberspace.

 First I hand you the OE Email notes from my source.

 “I had the privilege of attending the play, The American Popess, at the Witwatersrand University theatre during the year 2001. At the time, the performance was in English. The play was translated, I think, from Italian. It was a great performance, a one-man show par excellence. It was one of those experiences in the theatre that will always stay with me. Cilliers presented as an ephemeral presence, temporarily available to the audience as an embodied voice, speaking from the future. This excellent piece has been translated into Afrikaans and will be presented as the radio play for the Thursday night feature, at 8 o’clock in the evening, on RSG, and I am certainly going to take off the time to listen. Cilliers is 15 years older, and it will not be with unkindness that I say that she could possibly carry off on radio what she would no longer be able to do on the stage. But I can say that only because I am the same age, and I know that I have to compromise with my body on a daily basis. The Thursday when this will be broadcast will be 17 November 2016. Make a plan and have a listen. I am quite certain that you will not be sorry.

 I have uplifted a review from the Internet. This was in regard to the play that was presented at the Witwatersrand University, all those years ago.”

 There is a Copyright; p;ease respect that:

 Review: The American Popess

Artslink.co.za

03/12/2001 00:00:00

Copyright
Artslink.co.za
© 1997-2001

Then: well, here we go.  Sit down; make yourself comfortable and ENJOY!

A woman has already ruled the White House – according to some opinion, anyway – but has yet to run the Vatican.

The prospect of a woman pope is even more remote than that of a female US president: the Roman Catholic Church disbars women from putting a foot on the first rung of the ladder to the heaven’s gate. No women priests, no women popes. QED.

Esther Vilar’s play ostensibly examines the acknowledged ascent of the first woman to the papacy (there was an earlier woman incumbent, turfed out on discovery of her true gender). Set in 2033, the play has the shock of the futuristic in its depiction of a transformed Catholicism. The accumulated wealth of the church has been divided among its poorer constituents by a predecessor of Joan II. All the dogmas, doctrines and ancient practices have gone: papal infallibility, liturgy, even the Vatican as the Pope’s home and global capital of the religion has been sold off.

From a tiny 1000-square metre space ceded to the church in perpetuity by the Vatican’s new corporate owners, Pope(ss) Joan II addresses the faithful few – and they are few, one-tenth of the old numbers – by a TV transmission studded with ad breaks. Jana Cilliers holds the stage as Joan II. (Galeboe Moabi has the thankless task of being silently supportive throughout in a curiously superfluous “role”.)

Cilliers is always fascinating to watch, inherently a class act. It’s good to have her back and set to appear in a number of other works to be presented by Opdrag Productions, the theatre company she and director Mark Graham have founded. Performing artists whose work is dependent on the traditions of proscenium arch theatre have to exercise this active option: to expect hand-outs as a creative birth-right is unrealistic and narcissistic.

Joan II is a difficult, unsympathetic role. You don’t have to be a Catholic traditionalist to be startled or even upset by the cynicism of this papacy – or, at best, its accommodation with the grubby realities of the world. Joan herself is an atheist for whom evidence of the existence of a god would be an interesting manifestation, worth at least a few million religious recruits.

But if Vilar’s play seems iconoclastic and virulently anti-religious and anti-catholic, it is exactly the opposite. It is a stout defence of the status quo in the Roman Catholic Church that relies on shock, worst-case scenarios to remind people of what they have before they discard it. You could look at it impishly – Vilar doesn’t – as making a case for not throwing the infant Jesus’s religion out with the holy bath water.

Vilar is cautionary, reminding believers that they should beware of what they wish for, in case that comes true. A liberalised church is not on the playwright’s agenda any more than a woman pope, which is the ultimate anathema, the reductio ad absurdum to which all the seemingly positive liberalisation would lead.

Pope John Paul II would probably approve of The American Popess. It is a scare-mongering propagation of the faith. I found Vilar’s reactionary defence of the church difficult, in small part due to bronchitis and the effects of antibiotics when I saw the opening night performance, but largely because of my own long-abandoned Catholicism, and 12 years at Catholic schools. Now if only John Paul I had not died (or been murdered by elements in the Curia, according to David Yallop’s conspiracy-raking book), my attitude might be different.

None of which detracts from the focus, frightening steeliness and aching hollowness that Cilliers brings to her character. This is a high priest stripped of all illusions and announcing to her followers an apparent reality that in other, simpler times, would have been regarded as unspeakable, the ultimate heresy: there is no god.

Actors don’t create without directors, and Mark Graham’s eye and hand are much in evidence. His commercial credentials are proven; with Opdrag and his creative association with Cilliers, his aesthetic talents can come to the fore more noticeably. I look forward to more Opdrag, more Cilliers and more Graham.

Ike Jakson

In Americus GA saka Americoon

ikejakson@gmail.com

Of Time and Illusions in Great Tales of Time Part Two and of the Inconvenient Truth for England

November 6, 2016

Today in History, I bring you a somewhat different view of the Inconvenient Truth as oppose the common illusions of Time gone by.

 This day in 1605, November 5th were it not for one Englishman warning his brother who was a Lord not to go into Parliament that day and him, the Lord one, putting the warning out Guy Fawkes would have blown the Mother of Parliaments into smithereens and with it probably could have saved the World from Freedom and Democracy.

 When they became a Democracy is of course, a matter of conjecture and many Tall Tales of Illusions; only someone disavowed of all common sense would have called it a Democracy in India and their Ceylon, the latter occupied by that name they had given to Sri Lanka to which “The Great Mother of All Democracy” had banned and delivered by ship all the able bodied men who had resisted them in the Independent Republics of Transvaal and Free State that they had invaded for our gold, leaving a scorched earth and the lonely wives with children behind to die while their Husbands and Fathers suffered their fate in a distant land.

 What a pity Guy Fawkes failed?  He could even have saved the English from themselves and left a free Scotland and Ireland, the latter whom would not have sunk into the immoral mess the UK is today.

 But the mess as is evident in the collapse of their NHS may just run its full course and rid The World of the fallout that must follow on the demise of the Illusions of Freedom and Democracy.

 Good Lord, why did America want to save them from Hitler?

 In closure, my email address below still exists but I have been barred from accessing it myself, by the graciousness of a Party [or Parties] who are no fond of the common Truth.  I have checked in so far as any human being can do and Google through time and endless efforts clearly states that I exist but they can’t recognize me.  Anyone emailing me, do remind Google of my plight if you can locate a human brain hidden somewhere amongst the machines.  In the meantime WordPress still recognizes me and you will reach me with any comments in this Post, or in my Facebook.

 Ike Jakson

In Americus GA saka Americoon

ikejakson@gmail.com

Of Time and Illusions and Tall Tales of Time and of Where We Are In Time Today

October 31, 2016

Dedicated to my friend JP the Great El Campeador of Election 2008

A Story for JP

Hi JP, here it is as I once promised.  This Post has been with me for a long time and I have had more Headlines in mind than would fill ten pages.  In the end I decided to call it “My story for JP” to make it easy to find while I was developing it.  The Headline as it appears above I selected moments ago because it fits in with what I have to say.  The idea started of with:

My 76th Birthday Notes

In South Africa it is 8/2/2016 11:04:17 PM on my Computer clock right now as I have just drawn it from the keyboard.  I don’t know how to tell you why I am doing it but there is a reason.  I don’t do things without a reason, except when I sit down or lie down, which I do very often, to do absolutely nothing but to think.

I go to bed at sunset; doing that for years now, and wake up anytime during the night and work on the keyboard.  Eventually I go back to bed and get up again at sunrise.  Living on my own by choice I can do these things.

In a way, having woken up before 11 tonight, there is a subconscious reason; yes tonight it may be there because I am now as I tap the keyboard less than one hour from age 76.  Perhaps I shall take this up in a Post in my main WordPress Blog one day.  Oh yes, I shall do that; a thought has been going through my mind on and off lately to do a Post on “Days of my Life” or something like that, to highlight other events that occurred over a full year of my life and influenced, or guided or cautioned me about my journey of life and where I am going.

For now, having only forty minutes left of age 75 I will close this down and find a place to publish it.  If it is someone else’s birthday too tomorrow, Heppie Heppie we say in South Africa.  If someone else is also 76 at twelve, do send me a note.

For posterity the recorded date of birth of the Bama is given as August 4th 1961.  Wherever he was born we got to accept that the Bama was born, and the date is as good as any; he will be 55 years old on this day August 4th of 2016.

He is not done with America; don’t let him fool you.  Watch his last move the day before the next President moves into the White House to make it white again.

JP ole Friend, the foregoing stopped there, but I continued to collect and compile stuff that is needed to synchronize my thoughts with reality; there is so little real in the World today and I have a need to find it, even if it is just for me but all sorts of things interfered and my notes started to look like a dog’s breakfast [my sincere apologies to the noble race of the dog; it is not my intention to insult the dog World] but the old cliché exists and nobody would understand it if I describe what I saw as “an utter mess as only the human race can make of his life.”

I believe you are a wise man.  We have had very few differences but the two of us know that we can learn from differences and we have done so.

I came to realize as we would all react to being thrown into a large pool filled with icy water and chunks of frozen ice on a bitterly cold winter morning, when it struck me that at the rate we are going right now we will never reconcile all the differences between all the aspirations, hates and prejudice of cultures, languages and the only way out is to withdraw into self and sort the latter out first.

I went on to collect just a few things about our country.  The links are here but you don’t have to read them all now; do it at your leisure when you have the time.  Just remember however, that these are a few illustrations of reality where we are today

http://www.ourcivilisation.com/cry.htm

https://www.theguardian.com/world/2015/apr/09/university-cape-town-removes-statue-cecil-rhodes-celebration-afrikaner-protest

 https://ikejakson.wordpress.com/2012/02/13/judge-ruth-bader-ginsburg-and-the-south-african-constitution-of-her-dreams-2/

 https://www.express.co.uk/news/uk/61197/Man-shot-dead-in-South-Africa

 http://southafricatoday.net/media/hard-news/the-white-ghettos-of-south-africa/

 On the last I made a note: “To my friend JP in America number one.  Would you like this?  Note that is what the Bama has for his ultimate goal for you all. But I didn’t send it out or published it.

 At that point in time a while after my birthday, I continues to read but could not find a connection point until one night I found this on Google:

 “The Berlin Wall. During the early years of the Cold War, West Berlin was a geographical loophole through which thousands of East Germans fled to the democratic West. In response, the Communist East German authorities built a wall that totally encircled West Berlin. It was thrown up overnight, on 13 August 1961.”

 This piece comes to you in here verbatim [by copy and paste] and you can check it out but I didn’t even bother to copy the link.

 There is a reason for not bothering about the link because that was what chucked me into the freezing water.

 I sat up and heard myself saying to myself with my own mouth: “Hey, but this is nonsense; that is not what I have previously been leaded to believe about that wall.”

 Since then I have made a thorough and detailed study of that Wall from that night [as quoted above] and right through to the end [including President’s Reagan speech at the Wall until its demolition.

 I am still off Google Gmail and doubt whether I will ever care to return.  It’s really a lot of crap; the only decent email system [I don’t care if it is contradicted by anyone] is in Windows as in Gates, name Bill, but I considered all the young fools of today reading that Google excerpt and believing how that Wall went up “overnight.”

 But I am here and hope to be around for another little while.  Let me get back to the main purpose my intended Post; please also take that be my swansong in case I should depart from this here old World and you can’t find any trace of where I gone.

 Back to the icy water in my face that I mention two or three paragraphs above the South African links.

 It struck me like a bolt of hot lightning; we are all living behind walls.

 I then had it and put it into an “innards pocket” of my mind; it has been with me for some time to complete the keyboard work up to this point, I have to do all my Internet work this way because of my eye impediment.  The keyboard is set up to key every small bit or a long article in MSWord in a large font that I can still see; when it s done I send it through the spell checker where after I reduce the font size to Verdana 20 and then I  copy/paste to the Post.

 Back to the Illusions, the Tall Tales and the Walls.

 JP, ole Friend, you know, I carried this around for months and tell you some Tall Tales of Great Men, of grand history, of Money and Men of Money, of Ambition and Memories; many of these Tall Tales could be like that of President Reagan [the Grand Old Man of recent America] that stood at the Brandenburg Gate of the Berlin Wall and challenged Russia with the call “Mister Secretary, take down this Wall” but it would serve no purpose.

 Walls are part of our lives, sometimes just in our homes; then there is the fence with the neighbor.  As manufacturing developed walls and later high security walls went up around factories; as crime increased walls went up around entire industrial complexes; when the rich started building their multi million homes it was erected to include a wall right around the entire property; in South Africa of recent times security fences and walls with spikes and/or barbed wire rolls were erected around the entire village or the neighborhood as each one would decide.

 I now live in a small hamlet; having to let go of my own scrub fed chickens [for years had my own eggs] and the dog when I moved to my present place; found a neighbor I liked and we started talking about getting dogs and scrub chickens.  You have to talk to your neighbor when you want to do that because you cannot tie your dog down, or tell a scrub chicken not to cross the line into the vegetable patch that you and the neighbor had as we both did; my neighbor became a good friend.  We planted in tandem, shared our crops and did the same as we put in fruit trees and handed each other some that the other did not have on his place.

 My neighbor friend died of cancer at the age of 45 three years ago [a sad affair, tragic and sad] and a farmer bought the property on an auction for additional accommodation for a worker that is also needed in town [many of the wealthy farmers do that] and though the new occupant is a nice person they are hardly ever there.  That’s at the back of my property; on my right I have a cop as a neighbor and friend and they have a little Jack Russell dog that befriended me; he barked one night about a year ago [so I have some protection] and the day after when I walked around my abode my tall fruit ladder was gone.  Let me cut this short; the police came and the ladder “walked back all by himself and parked in the same spot behind my dwelling virtually right outside my bedroom window, where I have now chained and padlocked him and the police have circulated the town about the “Old Oom” is happy for the return of his prodigal ladder.  That’s how things are done in rural South Africa because that is all the Police are allowed to do in our land where we have the most modern and most beautiful Constitution and Bill of Rights for We the People; don’t take my word for that; just ask your American Supreme Court Justice Ruth Bader Ginsburg; she called it that.

 A few nights ago a bundle of fire barbeque wood walked of my place from just in front of my front door in my barbeque area.

 Three years ago the drought hit us followed by three very bad winters with black frost and severe damage to my fruit trees, but I managed to keep two orange trees and one fig alive, and our entire olive tree hedge that can survive anything.  My now deceased neighbor and I had planned it together so we had half of the olive trees on his side and half on my side with a sprinkler system fed by my pump on his borehole on his electricity.  We harvest buckets full of black olives and I can a lot myself.

 Anyway, between drought and black frost by the start of winter this year I only had one orange tree in fruit this year; by early June 2016 it had exactly 12 beautiful oranges nice yellow but not ripe yet.

 One morning a short while later a friend knocked on my door one morning and asked whether I had picked my oranges because he had always noticed them as he walked by and he noticed that morning that there were none.  I walked to the tree with him and he was right.

 Now JP, a navel orange blooms in late September and is covered in blooms during the whole of October; the blooms are down and the tiny little dark green fruits are there by early November; they grow from light yellow in April and May to bright yellow round and a sight to behold by end May but that fruit is ripe for picking and eating by about the 29th of June spot on every year, sweet delicious, healthy and wholesome from a tree for which an old man had made the hole in the ground, planted the tree and nursed it through more than five seasons of summers and winters and he was hurt that Monday morning.

 Late afternoon Sunday the previous day a group of small beggar children aged between say, 8 and 9 years old had knocked at my door asking whether they could have some oranges and I had told them that I always in good years share my fruit with the hostel children but that the fruit was not ripe yet this time when one interrupted me with “but they are ripe,..” but the annoyance was turning into bile in my throat when he dared to inform me that that had been to the tree and the fruit is ripe, and “they would like some “ because they were hungry.

 JP, I had kept my temper under control that Sunday but told them with a voice that I controlled as well as I could that they can come back at the end of the month and I would give them some,  Then I shoved them off and closed the door.

 That Monday morning I took my pick axe handle from my storage and called the police.  They arrived on the dot; our police are well trained, good decent civil folks trying daily and putting their own lives at risk every day but “their hands are tied behind their backs” by a Law of Freedom and the Right of these Vagrant Children to Life and Happiness, and seemingly to come and take my oranges during the night.

 Anyway, I have now been carried away by my frustrations of the moment, that Monday I told the policeman that they had better put the word out that if that happens again they would have to bring the man from the morgue in to fetch the corpses of three vagrant children with their heads and brains smashed into pulp by a prodigal pick axe handle, and I showed them that item.

 JP, forgive the outburst but I must finish this [will consider revising or deleting it before publishing] but I must explain it before I can deal with the Walls around us.

 Every one or most in any event of these youthful innocent “chillun o de Lor” of course has a mother.  That is determined as such by the Laws of Nature.  The mother is invariably the child of a drunken father, who has been unemployed for most of his life, and she delivers her first child when she is barely 15; by 16 or 17 she has the second one.  They are all hungry all the time because most of them don’t know the father and in many cases the mother cannot tell you who the father was.  Let me stop the tirade now.

 I realize now that there is a wall between us; it is an invisible wall but it is high and impenetrable steel.  We have to erect it to survive.

 Ingenious Mankind figured out how to make clocks, watches and other timepieces to tell us the days and dates and days and time accurate to mill fractions of one second.  In many older towns the time clocks sit in towers above the City Hall; in many countries there will be huge monuments of Time to their Nations, as Big Ben over the River Thames in London OK is a good example.

 These are however, just mechanical showpieces of the Greatness of Mankind and often merely a showcase of our achievements.

 Real time has a Master Clock that is called the Time Clock of the Earth and those that occupy its surface.  Some [and I place myself in that category] call it the clock or the timepiece of Nature; many others [in which I once again place myself] will call it Clock of Creation.  It has a pendulum that ticks along and measure the only Time that really matters.  It is not in the least relevant to me how old the Globe is or how it came to be or whether or how it will continue.  This Clock tells me that Time is infinite.  Mankind cannot measure how old the Globe is; modern man can hardly record anything with meaning more than 500 years ago.  All we know about that is that the World was different World to the one we know today.  Some nations, like Egypt and Israel have located some old artifacts from which they can trace their origins back to 2000 ago, but that is all.

 What does it matter anyway?  All that we seem to be able to agree on is that the past is finite, simply because there has to be a beginning.

 While we argue on is that the Great Pendulum swings back and forth into all eternity, as far as we can guess what eternity is.  It is all conjecture; the answer is simply that we don’t know and don’t need to know that.  It is merely an illusion that we have to know more.

 In the meantime I want a Huge Wall between me and the rest of what is called Democracy in South Africa.  In fact, I am beginning to think that the word Democracy is an illusion in the first place.  Freedom?  What is Freedom when somebody can walk into my small piece of dirt and pick my oranges?  How do you define that Freedom and his Right to live if I get a dog [at this stage I want to get two Rottweiler dogs and two pit bulls and train them to rip to shreds and kill any vagrant entering one inch of my property] but I am not allowed to let one dog touch the little piece of shit when he sneaks in to steal my oranges.

 I am suppose to take his little hand and escort him to my gate, give him my oranges and some meat and cake and kiss his little ass.  If he so much as scratches his little hand at the fence the police must come and shoot my dogs and lock me up for assault.

 Is this what Freedom has brought us?  Is this Democracy?

 No JP, I am getting out of it and build my walls.  No man is an Island, they say, to which I say “then you will find a heck of a lot of small Islands in my area as we say: and Up You to Freedom and Democracy.”

 To be continued in Part 2.

 Ike Jakson

In Americus GA saka Americoon

ikejakson@gmail.com

On Time and this day 50 years ago September 6th of 1966 when a Great Man died

September 6, 2016

It was also on a Tuesday, about 10 am that morning when the news came over the radio.  I had turned 26 just one month before that fateful day and was still in the formative years of my political life; it was in any event too early for me having grown up in an apolitical home, to form an opinion of the event but it shocked South Africa in its boots.

Doctor Hendrik French Verwoerd Prime Minister was assassinated by a man of a deranged soul and mind and died in his seat in Parliament that morning.

South Africa was divided between those who mourned and those who rejoiced.

I had to make a choice, and looking back I think that I made the right choice to stay above the fray and remained aloof.

In the aftermath of all South Africa showed a good sign of the heart by declaring the killer, a lost soul with a demented mind, a ward of the State President and sent to life imprisonment where he died at quite a ripe age.

Why do I place this today?

I shall reply to that in another Post. It will have to suffice for the day that any student of history will have to consider where the World stood at that time.  It was a different World to today.

The entire World is at another road crossing than it was then.  In South Africa of today we are proud of what Hendrik Verwoerd stood for; those who differ with me on this point, in South Africa or outside, read up before you judge.

To be followed up.

Ike Jakson

In Americus GA saka Americoon

ikejakson@gmail.com

One Short Interlude in my Series of Posts on Time and Related Matters

August 14, 2016

I hope this is a one-off because I want to spend the remainder of my Blogging Career on Time and matters of Time; it is something that needs to be done before I go and it needs to be done well.

For this interlude this is one of maybe two Posts on Hi-Tech, looked at from the vantage point of my time in Life.

Hi-Tech has overtaken the World and had some good in it but is now run by children and it stinks.  That is why it is a bubble that simply cannot last, not even very long after today.  I see signs that it is already crumbling at the edges in the Financial World and hope for some control over it before I depart these shores.  Today I have a challenge to Google et al, and to all the young kids that are designing hi-tech computer systems.

Wake up and develop some conscience about putting something back for those who bred you, fed you, and those that dressed you, sent you to school and often for years after that still cared for you.  Start caring for them, if you can manage that.  Remember them because your time must come too.

How about some good deed from Hi-Tech?  The first one is for Cell Phone designers.

I need a cell phone for people with eye and hearing impediments. It must have “large print on the screen” and large keys as well as a loud ringing tone; just one like the old handset phones. Don’t need no SMS, camera, icons or any rubbish; no music or videos. Come on Hi-Tech; you stink but you can’t be that stupid. And I don’t need Internet or Google or any of the stupid things on the darn instrument, just a straight simple old-time phone.  Go ahead and distribute; I shall pay cash for mine but you idiots should have some conscience and give it for FREE AND GRATIS to the folks that put you into business in the first place.

Apologies to my readers that the email address below is still barred.  Ike Jakson is alive and well and still very much around.  I am not that stupid.  Google confirms that the name exists and nobody can take it away from me but not even I can get access to the account.

COME ON GOOGLE.  STOP WARRING WINDOWS AND FIX YOUR GMAIL SYSTEMS.

Ike Jakson

In Americus GA saka Americoon

ikejakson@gmail.com

Of Time and a little humor in Politics

July 23, 2016

I break my series on Time for a brief note on a little humor in the doom and gloom of Politics of 2016.

We need it; mankind is still able to smile and a lot of it manages to slip through all the rancor that besets us about War and Terror, threats about the End that is drawing nigh; some even call it “and now the beginning of the End has begun” but that is not new either.

Have a break and smile.  My Gmail is down; our banks have fallen with the activity of all the mice, lice, the crawling black hordes of the Nether Regions have invaded our shores like locusts, leeches, parasites and clouds  of financial vermin, but there is still time for a smile.

Pause and enjoy.

The Bama stands out for what he is: a mere little Boy in a game for Men.

Putin and Bama Jim 20151015

 

Bama and Putin Cartoon 20160722

Ike Jakson

In Americus GA saka Americoon

ikejakson@gmail.com

Of Time and some Statistics of Old America

June 29, 2016

This may look like a bit of side tracking in my series of Posts on Time but it is not.  It fits in with the topic that I have in mind and it came at a time that is appropriate on this day before we leave June of 2016.

My friend Iowa Jim passed it on in email; he has the wonderful ability to locate these gems of old stuff and the generosity of his nature to pass it on.  I am presenting it to you verbatim as I got it from him  Enjoy.

Life in the USA in the early 1800’s; very interesting statistics when you have nothing else to do.

The War of 1812 concluded in 1815, and in the decades to come, the United States developed a vast transportation system, a national bank, and interstate trade. The economy blossomed, and canals, roads, cities, and industrialization expanded.

England’s defeat in the War of 1812 also removed barriers to westward expansion and, tragically, accelerated Native American removal.

Two hundred years ago, the United States stood at the edge of a frontier — both literally and figuratively. So what was life like at that exciting time?

Population: By 1815, the United States had grown into a country of 8,419,000 people, including about 1.5 million slaves. (Official estimates are available for the entire population in 1815, but slave counts were conducted during the censuses of 1810 and 1820. In the 1810 census, there were 1,191,362 slaves; by the 1820 census, there were 1,538,022 slaves). While a population of less than 10 million seems small compared to today’s count of over 320 million people, the population in 1815 had more than doubled since the country’s first census, taken in 1790, when there were 3,929,214 people. The population would continue to increase by more than 30 percent each decade for much of the 19th century.

Almost all of this growth was due to high birth rates, as immigration was low in 1815, slowed by European wars that raged from 1790 to 1815. Only about 8,000 per year entered during this period. The 1820 census counted 8,385 immigrants, including one from China and one from Africa.

Food: Because these innovations in transportation were still in their infancy in 1815, however, most Americans ate what they grew or hunted locally. Corn and beans were common, along with pork. In the north, cows provided milk, butter, and beef, while in the south, where cattle were less common, venison and other game provided meat. Preserving food in 1815, before the era of refrigeration, required smoking, drying, or salting meat. Vegetables were kept in a root cellar or pickled.

For those who had to purchase their food, one record notes the following retail prices in 1818 in Washington, D.C.: beef cost 6 to 8 cents a pound, potatoes cost 56 cents a bushel, milk was 32 cents a gallon, tea 75 cents to $2.25 a pound. Shoes ran $2.50 a pair. Clothing expenses for a family of six cost $148 a year, though the record does not indicate the quality of the clothes.

Life Expectancy: The boom in native population in the early 19th century was even more remarkable considering the low life expectancies of the time. By one estimate, a white man who had reached his 20th birthday could expect to live just another 19 years. A white woman at 20 would live, on average, only a total of 38.8 years. If measuring from birth, which counted infant mortality, life expectancy would have been even lower. A white family in the early 19th century would typically have seven or eight children, but one would die by age one and another before age 21. And, of course, for slaves, childhood deaths were higher and life expectancy was even lower. About one in three African American children died, and only half lived to adulthood.

Disease was rampant during this time. During the War of 1812, which concluded in 1815, more soldiers died from disease than from fighting. The main causes of death for adults during this period were malaria and tuberculosis, while children most commonly died from measles, mumps, and whooping cough, all preventable today.

Housing: More than four out of every five Americans during the early 19th century still lived on farms. Many farmers during this time also made goods by hand that they’d use, barter, or sell, such as barrels, furniture, or horseshoes. Cities remained relatively small and were clustered around East Coast seaports: New York, Philadelphia, Baltimore, Boston, and Charleston, South Carolina. In the 1810 census, New York, the largest, was home to 96,373 people. By 1820, the population would reach 123,706. Try out a search of 1800s census records on the Ancestry website.

Employment: Industrialization would soon accelerate urbanization. In England, the Industrial Revolution had begun in the mid-18th century, and despite attempts made to restrict the export of technology, in 1789, a 21-year-old Englishman memorized the plan for a textile mill and then opened a cotton-spinning plant in Rhode Island. By 1810, more than 100 such mills, employing women and children at less than a dollar a week, were operating throughout New England. By the 1830s, textile production would become the country’s largest industry.

Wages for other industries during the time ranged from $10 to $17 a month for seamen. Farm laborers after the end of the War of 1812 earned $12 to $15 dollars a month. A male school teacher earned $10 to $12 a month; a female teacher earned $4 to $10. In Massachusetts, a tailor and printer could both expect to earn $6 a week, while a servant might earn only 50 cents a week.

Transportation: Industrialization affected the country in other ways, of course. In 1815, there were no steam railroads in America, so long-distance travel was by horseback or uncomfortable stagecoach over rutted roads. Cargo moved by horse-team was limited to 25-30 miles a day. But in 1811, Congress signed a contract for the construction of the National Road, the first highway built by the national government. By 1818, it had crossed the Appalachian Mountains, fostering westward expansion.

In 1815, Americans were also discovering steamboat travel. In 1807, Robert Fulton had opened the first steamboat ferry service, between Albany and New York City. By 1815, advances in technology allowed a rival to ferry arms and ammunition to General (later President) Andrew Jackson at the Battle of New Orleans, the last battle of the War of 1812, and then to steam back up the Mississippi and then the Ohio to Pittsburgh, proving the feasibility of steamboat navigation of the mighty river.

Entertainment: For recreation, horse racing became increasingly popular by the time of the War of 1812. Singing and sheet music became widely popular, particularly “broadside songs,” or lyrics printed on a sheet of paper and sold for a penny. The sheet had no music, but instructed the purchaser which popular, well-known tune the words could be sung to. The songs often had to do with current political or military events. At the other end of the artistic spectrum, the Boston Handel and Haydn Society, formed in 1815, performed Handel’s “Messiah” in its opening concert.

Finally, singing played a large part in one of the most significant social movements of the time — and in all of America’s history — the Second Great Awakening. From 1790 to 1830, wave after wave of Protestant evangelism swept across the country. Tens of thousands of people would attend a single camp meeting, marked by enthusiastic preaching and audience singing and participation. These more informal services, led by itinerant preachers, also helped tie settlers on the Western frontier to the cultural life of the rest of the country. The Second Great Awakening also fostered greater participation by women and African Americans, who continued developing their artistic traditional of spiritual music during this period.

I hope you enjoyed it as much as I did.

Ike Jakson

In Americus GA saka Americoon

ikejakson@gmail.com

Of Time and Seasons and about Seasons of Time

May 7, 2016

This time of the year the Sun is going at its fastest northwards before it slows down for the longest day in the Northern Hemisphere.  In human time it lingers there for up to seven days, not moving at all before restarting the engines round about 21st June for the run South.  It has never changed.

As long as Man knows it has been like that.  We have learned that it is entirely and positively reliable, made so by the Hand of the Grand Designer of the Universe and maintained by Him.

This year, and this day of May 7th, the latter so determined by knowledge that Humankind has acquired through processes of learning and study has been no exception.

The seasons have brought about some changes as modified by Nature and to some extent by what Mankind has done [or not done] but like Time, the Seasons are set.  Man and animal living, loving or whatever we do, have coped as well as we could with drought in the Southern while our compatriots in the Northern parts have had to cope with storms, floods and severe cold.  All this has happened before and will happen again.

Nobody I have read has as far as I know ever offered an explanation for the apparent difference of the movement of the sun, or I should say the “speed of the cycle” in human time measurements, but it is there.  It clocks up to 4 minutes a day near top speed and the two lengthy sojourns at the “turnaround” North and South are not enough to disturb the common logic that it is all pre-determined by a Mighty Hand.

These things and what follows herein are my own philosophies and I don’t expect any hunters for my signature to stand in line at the front door, but I am awed by those who can write and discuss God and Faith in great words, books and even in Blogging.  I don’t have that gift.

However, I admit that my thinking has been influenced by a few people better known than I am.

The first one, John Steinbeck, is my favorite and in my thinking the greatest writer of all times except for the writer[s] of the Scriptures in all the major Faiths.  I managed to collect all Steinbeck’s works during his lifetime [1902 to 1968] except his very first book, ‘The Wayward Bus’ that I found by chance in a second hand bookshop at a few shillings not long after his departure.  I think he self-published it; it was only a short work but the genius of the future Nobel was already visible.

Steinbeck as far as I know never disclosed his own religion; he certainly did not make any noise or created any fuss about it, but his understanding of God and mankind comes through as no other one ever managed.  There is no other as deep as Steinbeck’s ‘To a God Unknown’ about man and God, or equal in my experience.  In ‘The Winter of our Discontent’ [1961] he paints a vivid picture of Man in agony with his conscience.  He gets very close to craft the painting of Ethan Hawley into exquisite art.  The end of the work is a masterpiece of pure art.

In ‘East of Eden’ Steinbeck becomes alive as a Man; part of his history, his family and his deep faith in family life all mingle with the joy and tragedy of those who lived and died, those who died but never lived and the few who will for ever live.

Then there is ‘Travels with Charley’ and what can anyone say on that?

I will get to that masterpiece, the best ever travelogue by anyone, and to the other writers who inspired me.  Let us now look at the Seasons of Time.

This time of the year, more or less almost spot on the 7th of May and again about 7th of November the Seasons of Nature change in both Southern and Northern Hemispheres.  It has been like that for ever and will endure forever.

Nature is our only guide to what has been and what will be.

I do not believe the Prophets of Doom or the gullible predictions of how great Mankind can make the World.  Nature is [and was] part of the creation, and I live very close to it every day of my life.

I don’t mind the speculations of Darwin and his ilk; actually it is great reading and great opportunities for conversation but it is no science.

Science as developed by fragile Mankind is based on theory and the limits of understanding what is far beyond our capabilities, and even further beyond our need to know more than that.

All the great Faiths and Religions are in perfect harmony on Nature and Creation, and I accept that evolution was and still is part of the Creation and that they are perfect similarities; that some humans would claim that they are incongruent is and remains a mystery to me.

The Seasons of Nature tell me that they are part of the Greatness of God, our Creator and the Great Hand that guides our future.

I therefore on this day want to state where I stand and will take you through another favorite writer, though I did not agree with him on everything in life of his later years I respect him for ‘The Source’ and his name is: James Michener.

‘The Source’ was first published in 1965; it does not say what I am about to say but that is what I took from it way back, sometimes forgot about, but now wish to state as my motto.

I believe in God the Almighty Creator and our Destiny AND I believe that:

God=Jehovah=Allah=Jaweh=God

And I don’t know or understand what the fuss is all about.

Ike Jakson

In Americus GA saka Americoon

ikejakson@gmail.com

It just wasn’t the right Time, Little Marco

March 16, 2016

I am in a series of Posts on Time and thought hard and long whether I may not spoil it by this Post but it had to be said; this is not always the case with Time but I realized that there are times when you have to stick your neck out regardless of the consequences.

Americans of today generally fail the Test of Time because they live in a World of make believe of some past glory that comes from somewhere in the past that they have adopted as their own without even understanding the basics of Time.

Little Marco, oh let me call you Young Marco, you messed around in an adult World.  To come today, from a youngster like you and only a first generation American to boot, to get hammered for your presumptuousness you might have been forgiven, but then to state that “America is a special place; where you come from does not determine where you are going,” heck, young man that is your problem.  Step back Marco, let the people who have been there for twelve generations, proved themselves and paid their dues, yes, let them say that.

Marco, in Russia and China you would not have had a single chance.  Ok, now I can hear you say that you don’t like them.  You also did not like your Fatherland, Marco.

In Africa you would have been fish bait within one hour after announcing your intentions.  Now don’t come telling me that you don’t like Africa either; it’s an old Continent.  The leaders appointed by their forefathers are governing; the rest do as they are told.  It works, I tell you it does.

OK, the colonials introduced a Western form of Government, telling the people they need a Democracy and things almost got out of hand, but the leading families re-introduced the old systems and advised the people that they would  call it Democracy to keep the money flowing from America and to eat MacDonald hot fries.

Bide your time, Marco.  You’ve screwed up and may not get a second chance for a long time.  Pay your dues now and just don’t force things.  Face it Marco, you only got as far as you did, and were allowed to do so by the Party to take the Don out.  You failed, Marco and the DOP [that may be new to you; it’s now spelt with a D for Dead Old Party] will remember; it’s not a Party for brash youngsters in any event.  They only used you as much as they are using Cruz now.

But that’s his problem.  Don’t you go and tarnish your name now by throwing your lot in with Cruz.

Cheerio, sonny-boy; better luck next time.

Ike Jakson

In Americus GA saka Americoon

ikejakson@gmail.com