Oy vey, oy very
The conspiracy theorists have a way
To twist and beguile
The rank and file
Only their truth is right
Only they have true sight
The rest are sheeple
Not conscious people
Blind lambs with our science and complex politics
We give em calculus, they want cryptic arithmetic
They say that’s the game
That’s what they want you to think
All of it programming, all a causal link
The tapestry of coordinated reality
All a master plan only they foresee
I met a man who wasn’t there.
He said hello today.
His voice was hollow and thin.
I don’t think that I shall greet him.
He’s scary and alarming.
I want him to go away.
He chased me down the hall today.
I ran an awful lot.
He’s getting closer everyday.
How long can I keep the pace?
I turned a corner and he was there.
Grinning like a fool.
Years passed by and time went on.
I’m now old and grey.
I see a little boy sometimes.
He always runs away.
I want to be his friend.
But he does not believe in me.
At last, unnoticed research on the 10,000 salt-loving halophyte plants which grow in deserts and thrive on seawater is coming to light. I have long reported on saline agriculture, noting that halophyte plants can provide humans with food, fibre, edible oils and biofuels. Indeed, the only biofuels that meet ethical criteria are those based on algae grown on seawater.
A biofuels breakthrough was announced, January 22, in Abu Dhabi that Boeing, in partnership with the United Arab Emirates (UAE) are producing biofuel for jet aircraft made from algae grown on desert land, irrigated with seawater. This Sustainable Bioenergy Research Consortium (SBRC) is affiliated with the MASDAR Institute.
Vegetable growing is flourishing in Cuscatlán, the smallest department in the tiny country of El Salvador, with the help of a national programme to promote family agriculture and lift hundreds of thousands of people out of poverty.The policy of the centre-left government of President Mauricio Funes is being supported by several regional and international organisations, as part of a wider fight against poverty, which has had some successes in this country of 6.3 million people. • 34.5 percent of households are poor
In theory, ocean thermal energy conversion (OTEC) could provide 4000 times the world’s energy needs in any given year, with neither pollution nor greenhouse gases to show for it.
To make energy from that heat difference, modern-day systems pump warm surface water past pipes containing a liquid with a low boiling point, such as ammonia. The ammonia boils and the steam is used to power a turbine, generating electricity. Cold deep-ocean water is then piped through the steam, causing the ammonia to condense back into a liquid, ready to begin the cycle again (see diagram). Steam-powered turbines drive nearly every coal and nuclear power plant in the world, but their steam is produced by burning polluting coal or generating long-lived nuclear waste.
People with body integrity identity disorder (BIID), or xenomelia, say that some part of their body – usually a limb – doesn’t belong to them. They often resort to desperate measures such as freezing the limb in dry ice to force doctors to amputate it. http://www.newscientist.com/article/dn25150-ear-bath-helps-explain-rare-urge-to-cut-off-own-limb.html#.UxYXrTEo6aw
More genetic mutations may be needed to give rise to autism in girls than in boys. The finding supports the notion that the female brain is somehow protected against autism, and this may in turn explain why four times as many males have autism than females. http://www.newscientist.com/article/dn25148-girls-may-be-more-resilient-to-autismlinked-mutations.html#.UxYXjTEo6aw
Filly Fallow’s a fine fellow. He frets with the best and cajoles the worst. You may see him huddled upon that sunny hilltop where the Gillyweed and silk grass grows. High to the sky and downy soft and fresh. A favored spot for the solemn and lonesome, strident in their independence, partnering with nature and ponderous thoughts; a duet of pleasure. Here he hangs and hems his haw, holding out for heaven’s sake.
This fellow he does dress well, always with a suede jacket and vest, bowtie tied ever so lightly (though he detests the sartorial accoutrement), matching stockings on his nobby little legs devoid of those prickly stalks. A finer image has not struck you as the one he embodies. With what little he has he makes due; stubby grubby stout teapot of a man, shapely in a queer fashion, or a fashionable queer, it makes no difference. Here is man of his own right, who bellows at fate and brandies up courage for the confounding fight. The ebb and pull of society’s abrasiveness. Flowing like dust in the sunrays.
Days spent walking and exploring sights unseen. Nights are given to fanciful dances and musical reverie. Oh you should see the way this little lump sways and gyrates to make even the King jealous. Jumping and sashaying to and fro as water blips in Brownian motion. His chestnut ponytail gliding and waving about, it resembles a trotting horse giving chase. His tiny rum pum bum shaking and shilly shallying in the warm glow of the tavern. A lover of merriment he is and loved is he in these capsule moments, locked forever in the steel trap of his mind; rusty windmills in the past.
Catch him once, catch him twice, good for a laugh at the lowest price. Share a mead and a hearty meal, you’ll be glad you did when looking back in cold nights.