8 December 2024
Sometime during the autumn of 2019, I was in the midst of translating a chapter of THE DAWN into L’AUBE. My method in those days, as in these days, is to translate one paragraph at a time. I then assess the text for accuracy on the Online Language Disgronificator. That process can be frustrating, albeit comical, because of the limitations of AI-generated language.
Actual human speech is a foreign concept in the digital lexicon which operates on utilizing whatever is Out There on the Internet. The Disgronficator can be hilariously dumb.
What is a disgronificator?
A Disgronificator is a term coined by the late Rush Limbaugh to describe how to decode his audio signals that contain subliminal messages.
HE WAS JUST JOKING!!
It’s all a lark, a hoot!
Such a thing does not exist, in the real world, or, for the online linguists: IRL. The mere word can trigger the paranoid among us. And there are many paranoid among us.
I do not know if the fear-driven crowd is any larger now that it was during earlier phases of my life. Probably not. I am, however, wont to ignore the scaredy-cats in my path, except to ask them, politely, to get out of my way. Or, in the event (all too likely) that they do not get out of my way, I figure out ways to go around them. If need be, I go through them.
I admit to possessing a distinct level of provocateur, or provocateuse. The extent of teasing enacted by me is always in proportion to what I can perceive as the probable emotional response of the provocation.
During nearly a decade in the USA, that emotional response, from human beings, has been rabid.
Life in the USA has become so guarded — because of the mentally disturbed thin-skins — that I’ve had to really ratchet back my normal level of ironic jester. What is intended as an intellectual exercise in those critical thinking skills of the other person — has become a catalyst for unchecked animosity.
I’ve discovered that he or she has no critical thinking skills!
And no sense of humor!
A couple of summers ago, I happened upon those awful realizations, completely without intending to do so. For me, that awareness means that My Maker intends for me to DO something I’d been putting off doing, for a perfectly valid reason, or two.
The time came for me to jettison two City Slickers from my sphere of contact because I’d learned, early, and often, they are manipulative users and liars. Dealing with such a personality-type in a confrontational manner is not advisable. He (or she) becomes violent the moment you attack his delusion!
I tried avoidance for a while, but that method is not fail-safe. In fact, for me, avoidance only allows the problem I’m avoiding to become larger, much larger!
I was explaining to these two supercilious parvenus the quick and efficient construction of my Dream House in the Tahoe National Forest during the year of 2020, the COVID Year. They wanted to know how in the world the project continued with all of that COVID, out there, in the forest, attacking anyone who ventured out of doors.
How could the workers work, wearing masks and social distancing???
I blithely replied that no one wore any masks. And there was no social distancing.
The repulsion and horror on the faces of these know-it-alls told me all I needed to know:
“YOU ARE LIVING IN A SICK HOUSE! THE PLASTER DUST CONTAINS GERMS! WE SHALL NEVER COME NEAR YOUR PLACE OF RESIDENCE!”
My problem was solved!
Encountering a person who is completely lacking in a sense of humor has become all too common in certain regions of California, especially post-2016. Starting in 2020, my public gags got very gagged, and masked, triple masked. I consequently took my humor indoors, to be appreciated by only my kin.
Friends, and chums, those cherished people of good cheer, filled with light-hearted camaraderie to offset the heavy-hearts of our crises — they aren’t part of my present world. The past four years, in particular, have weighed very heavily upon newcomers within my social sphere; and I choose to restrain myself from attempting merry-making amidst their sorrows. I find myself at an odd juncture in life:
Friends of yore are no more, and friends of the future are in abeyance.
I’m on my own, which is typically fine for me. Yet, I dearly miss the sideways glance of sincere, but secret, acknowledgement between me and Best Gal Pal. I fondly recall the natural, effortless repartee and the invigorating wordplay from yesterday, a place and time that have become permanent memories.
We shared laughter and heartache with equal devotion. We knew that our time together was not forever, here, on earth, but, in the midst of our understanding, we somehow sensed those moments would live forever.
I think that’s the way to truly cherish each moment: to expect nothing more from it than whatever it is that the moment holds. It may be sadness; it may be joy; it may be disappointment. It most assuredly is the quiet realization that such a moment cannot be locked up in a prison of need, or want, or hunger. It has to fly, freely, to the next moment.
And so on, and so forth, for life is not to be measured or calibrated. It’s lived with purpose, but also with openness to the possibility that you were wrong: you must change along that road of seeing things more clearly.
The wide open vista of knowing you were wrong, and can change: that freedom of the heart is priceless. Maybe that’s why heartless people cannot change. They’re born immaculate!
During that autumn of 2019, I was busily translating a novel that I’d begun to discover, anew, for myself. When I am in the creative mode of writing, my mind requires such an extreme degree of distance from the subject matter that I’m stunned, later on, to read exactly what it was that I wrote!
Gaining insight into the foresight that I’d used for fiction is a cathartic experience. By comparison with those emotional and psychological endeavours, the work of translation is rather easy. Thus it was that as I looked back, I was also looking forward. I was trying to see things more clearly during that autumnal season.
I perceived that the world, such as the globalist power-brokers believed they’d set it up, was teetering on the brink of bankruptcy, morally, emotionally, and financially. The static constructs that had been put into place, over the course of decades, by arrogant stupid people with too much money, those contrived systems were about to topple because of the sheer weight of all of that corruption and venal fraud within those systems.
I went about my business, the translation of that chapter. The Online Disgronficator had been very pleased with my linguistic skills, stating at the end of each paragraph: YOU KNOW YOU KNOW.
Yes, I thought. I know I know.
Then one paragraph somehow crossed wires, or digital files, with an Environmental Committee in the Canadian Government: Trudeau’s pack of pilfering progressives. My French-language text appeared on the right side of the screen as a series of recommendations for this committee to inject certain, specific wordings into a piece of legislation under consideration by Justin and His Party.
I asked myself: Should I be seeing this?
I diligently copied and pasted the Official Canadian verbiage into a file. And I proceeded to the next batch of sentences to be checked by the Disgronificator.
Another paragraph appeared from this Environmental Committee. At this point, I figured I could ride this foreign spy document all the way to its end!
For a few months, I stored that digital file of Trudeau governmental directives, then crunched it in Trash at the beginning of 2020.
That year marked the start of even more repressive suppression - via Official, but Illegal Diktats — of the citizens of the US, Canada, Europe, and Australia, basically the inheritors of Western Civilization. I saw, from the start, the dark designs of what a new business associate of mine, in January 2021, called “the Plandemic.”
I realize how much trust this person must have placed in me to confide that theory to me in January of 2021. I also comprehend how very much the element of trust has been shredded by the usual suspects, the bitter, hostile, resentment-filled people who shall never be happy.
I know that “never” is a long time. Such a person creates that long time for even a moment of life.
I stay as far away from the malice-mongers as possible — in the hope of drawing to me the rare individuals who can sincerely partake in what must be the most abused intangible:
Friendship.