Mindblown: a blog about philosophy.
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Garden Gate
Beyond the Garden Gate “Words”, muttered the Scribbler, “are stupid things. Inadequate.” “They are frivolous. Annoying. Like dust. On a long pilgrimage.” He settled back to ponder the allegory. In his wonky mind, (tottering from triviality to insanity), (and back to mischief), he saw a long, winding, dusty road. On it, striding purposefully towards the…
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A Man should love his Liberty
A man should love his Liberty A man should love his Liberty. As precious as his Life, itself. Whether he call himself a Seeker, a Dreamer, or a Patriot? A National Socialist? Or a Fascist? He should love his Liberty. A man should love his Liberty. He should guard it, vigilantly. Beware of those who seek brutal dominion,…
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Why do I write?
The Slave Gate Why do I write? Writing is a form of playing an instrument. Absently, plinking away on a guitar. Plucking at a violin. Except when you scribble-write? You are gently testing the lute strings of your heart. Soaring away, in your mind. Leaving the Harsh, False, Plastic Reality that ‘they’ methodically dish up,…
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The Soft Regret
The Soft Regret I have had this type of personal attack, the harsh word? Many times. To my face, in person. And via Cyberspace. I have had it from family. From friends. Since experience shows a careful, measured response from me? Often means they quickly delete their post? Run? I shall therefore quote it…
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Skating on thin Ice
Skating on thin Ice I do not like to speak the harsh word. As much as I have always felt repulsed by crude, blustering speech-makers, strutting the cardboard stage, lo-ving that flickering lime-light, I have so often tried to couch my feeble thinking in the soft word. Stepping through Life, as much as…
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The Judaic-Pavlovian Reflex
The Judaic-Pavlovian Reflex It’s not that so many millions start helplessly slobbering. In the physical sense. Like Pavlov’s dogs, obediently, when the (dinner) bell starts ringing. With the Judaic-Pavlovian Reflex, the ‘slobbering’ (on cue) is purely mental. It is triggered not by a BELL, but by KEY-WORDS. To wit: “Jew” (the slightest criticism thereof) BEEEEP! (mind goes to…
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A creaking of the heavy, oak door
A creaking of the heavy, oak door Occasionally, on special occasions, you will meet, in Life, stout, heavy, oak, doors, that tend to start to creak open (or sometimes, shut). They do so at a time, seemingly, of their own choosing. Not yours. You might, in that distant, far-back Time, have thought they ushered…
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Six Quotes from Six Men
Six Quotes from six Men
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The ghost of Rich Mountain
The ghost of Rich Mountain On one of my many, long, solo, Harley motorcycle treks, away, far away, musing on quiet thoughts, I too, softly, walked this ancient cemetery. It is a beautiful place. The wind was soft that day. Just breathing Life Precious, through eager leaves. And my mind, already knowing the story…
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Galloping Jews
Galloping Jews @SchrodingersKitty Funny how the keenest Joos positively, hate to lose a discussion on the Truth or Nay of the ‘Six Million Jews’ affray. Whenever I would like to see (polite and very sensibly) their answers to my simple quest they seem to quickly shirk the test. Whilst demanding that I must believe (and wail and…
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