You may have been wondering WHY is there so much Time on TV News Devoted to Burning Man Mud... WELL... Look at this Photo of Shiny New Motor Homes... The Public Loves It When the Ruling Class Fails...
In recent years, Burning Man has drifted from its hippy roots and become better known for luxury RVs, wild orgies, and Silicon Valley bros. Protestors from the Seven Circles –a coalition of activists representing the climate groups Extinction Rebellion, Rave Revolution, and Scientist Rebellion – demanded that Burning Man ban private jets...
STOP FLYING IN JETS (edit text) Button for sale.
You MAY Change the Words and the Typeface... BUT... Think about it... The "Jet Set" is Causing Climate Change with their flying all over the Place... Polluting the Air with Burnt Jet Fuel... and there is NO real reason to Fly... You can visit your family online with a Video Call...
Yes, it’s OK to laugh at wealthy Burning Man attendees mired in muck...
and then... from the actual scene: A Lady Said:
Just a little update from playa for all you concerned. It’s actually quite ok. We are built for this. We have resources and are resilient. We help each other and are helping anyone who is in need. I’m with my chosen family (obvs some aren’t here). Bmir is killing it and getting the info out and doing it in hilarity and style. I love this. We’ve been rocking parties, making the best of it and taking care of each other. I’m grateful to know that when things go down we all strap up and manage to make everything beautiful.
and another Lady said:
I spent the entire summer prepping and packing for Burning Man, from my glittery costumes to my head lamp and bike lights.
The global event in Black Rock City, Nevada would be held just a few months after the finalization of my divorce.
During my marriage, I never dreamt I would one day make a solo trek to the hot Nevada desert — comfort was my middle name! However, I was learning to embrace adventure and change on my new path forward.
The vast desert land spanned seven miles, and the art installations were miles away from my campsite. Now I understood why all the photos I had seen included crowds of bicycles and art cars!
Walking was out of the question.
One could never begin to do or see everything at Burning Man, but at least a bicycle gave a participant a fighting chance.
I shook my head in disbelief.
Despite having packed day-glo bike lights, I had no idea how to ride a bike! The countryside where I grew up is characterized by its beautiful rolling hills with neither a sidewalk or a shoulder; a bike was never part of my childhood.
I got the knack of it one summer vacationing as a child in Ocean City but my next attempt a few years later led to a crash and a painful gash on my foot!
What had I gotten myself into?!
“Where better to learn how to ride a bike than at Burning Man?” said my friend Sunshine with a smile.
With the dust storms, intense heat, massive crowds, and the raucous party atmosphere I could think of many better places, but I just rolled my eyes and laughed.
“No time like the present!” I told myself hopping on a bike and wavering back and forth to maintain my balance.
It was terrifying!
But then all of a sudden, I had it. I was in the flow! I was riding a bike!
And then I saw her ...
A sequined burner, long brown hair flying in the wind.
She reached out to me to say hello and pass me a note. I almost collided as I grabbed the note, pedaling a few more paces before landing in a heap on the ground.
I looked around sheepishly, shaking my head with embarrassment.
Burning Man was definitely not the best place to learn how to ride a bike!
I opened the note, folded several times origami-like fashion:
“You are beautiful,” it read.
I couldn’t help but smile. I dusted myself off, hopped back up on the bike, and tried again!
Day after day I struggled, sometimes feeling like I finally got it down only to take a spill the next time out.
My goal was to ride out to playa on Burn Night to watch the burning of the Man. It would be Saturday night, my last night there.
Saturday came fast and not long after the heat broke, night followed.
This was it!
Despite the darkness and the noise, I maintained my calm and my focus and steadied myself on the bike. It felt like magic as I rode, weaving through the crowds with ease!
After hours enjoying the playa, I rode back to my home camp in Home Rule Village where I spent the rest of the night relaxing in the Cloud Nine Sky Lounge, a chill space on the fourth floor of the five story tower my camp mates had built the week before.
Then shortly before sunset, I fell asleep.
I awoke with a start.
How long had I slept on the tower? It had been such a peaceful rest, a contrast to my other sleepless nights there. Was it 10 a.m.? 11 a.m.?
My bus left at 2 p.m. for the Reno airport. I was making an early departure so I could be home for my children’s first day at their new school.
“Anyone know the time?” I asked around.
“1:15,” someone shouted back.
“1:15?!”
I had to be at the bus depot at 1:30! I wasn’t even packed. I could never make it.
I raced back to my tent, searching for my wallet and phone. I grabbed the essentials. Fortunately, Sunshine was staying longer and would pack the rest of my things and bring them back home.
I jumped on my bike and took off for the bus depot with Sunshine one-wheeling besides me.
I maintained my balance — and my composure — and pulled into the depot just as the clock struck 1:25. I even had five minutes to spare!
I handed my bike to Sunshine and with a heavy sigh of relief, I boarded the air-conditioned bus, rested my head against the window, and closed my eyes.
What would have happened if I had not finally learned how to ride the bike, just the night before? I never would have made it to the bus depot in time. I would have missed the plane ride back and missed my children’s first day at a new school.
My determination to ride my bike on Burn Night paid off far more than I could have ever imagined!
It was so tempting to wallow in frustration, self-doubt, and regret until I realized one thing:
The only way out is through.
and then SD Said:
My Dad’s RV makes it back from Burning Man! Even with all the rain and mud on the playa, everything looks good. Yes it’s nice and dusty, but we’ve been doing this for years and it’ll shine up like new! Glad everything went well and a great visit with Dad. #burningman2023
In My Humble Opinion: Blocking the Road at Burning Man was a BAD IDEA. The Effect was to Drive More People into Climate Change Denialism - "SEE? Those Ecology Nuts are Just Jealous That They Can't Afford a Ticket and a Rental RV... Losers!"
The Main Cause of Climate Change is People Driving Cars, Trucks and Flying in Jet Airplanes... Not People Going to a Party in the Desert... a Better place to stage a roadblock would be an Airport... Stop Traffic at the Entrance and Thousands of People would MISS THEIR FLIGHT... and THAT Ecology Action would Get the Attention of the "Jet Set"... Force them to Think About Their Behavior! Maybe Flying Isn't Such a Great Idea After All!
A simple way to Cause a Roadblock is to use Highway Flares... Set off Nine of them Across all lanes and the Drive Away... Remember to Put Duct Tape over your License Plate so No One Can Report Your Car...
Did you ever notice the Universal Hatred of Donald Trump? The Vast Majority of Americans Want Him to Go To Prison for His Crimes... We Are Sick and Tired of The Rich Being "Above the Law" - Except for the Trumpanzees... They Love Him and Want to Make Crime Legal for Republicans...
We Are Sick and Tired of Wall Street Criminals "Too Big To Fail." The Government Bailed out the Idiot Investment Bankers in 2008 and Let Them KEEP THE MONEY! That's What the Occupy Wall Street Protest Was All About...
On September 15, 2008, Lehman Brothers filed for Chapter 11 bankruptcy protection following the exodus of most of its clients, drastic declines in its stock price, and the devaluation of assets by credit rating agencies.
Fuld was named in Time's "25 People to Blame for the Financial Crisis" list[5][6] and in CNN's "Ten Most Wanted: Culprits of the Collapse".[7] Fuld was nicknamed "the gorilla" for his intimidating presence.[8]
Occupy Wall Street (OWS) was a 59-day left-wing populist movement against economic inequality and the influence of money in politics that had begun in Zuccotti Park, located in New York City's Wall Street financial district, and lasted from September 17 to November 15, 2011.[7] The protests gave rise to the wider Occupy movement in the United States and other Western countries.
and Witness the Absurd Crime Spree of Republicans... For Example: Rick Scott of Florida...
He Oversaw the Largest Medicare Fraud in History - Why Isn't He in Prison? DOJ: Do Your Job - OUTLAW CRIMESource:
https://www.politifact.com/factchecks/2014/mar/03/florida-democratic-party/rick-scott-rick-scott-oversaw-largest-medicare-fra/
In 2000, Columbia/HCA agreed to more than $840 million in criminal fines and damages over unlawful billing practices, according to a press release from the Department of Justice (DOJ). The company later faced an additional $881 million fine in 2002, bringing its total settlement to $1.7 billion.
"While Rick Scott was CEO of Columbia/HCA Hospital, he oversaw the biggest Medicare fraud in US history and was fined $1.7 billion, which was the largest healthcare fraud fine ever levied by the DOJ," tweeted political commentator Brian Tyler Cohen in response to Scott's post. "Maybe don't listen to this guy when it comes to protecting earned benefits."
Rick Scott is used to being attacked for the historic $1.7 billion Medicare fraud fine slapped on his former hospital company. But in a new twist, he’s trying to turn his weakness into a strength by accusing his opponent of “stealing money from Medicare.”
In a state with one of the nation’s largest populations of seniors, those are fighting words. And they’re also false words...
https://www.politico.com/states/florida/story/2018/08/30/democrats-medicare-fraud-is-fungus-scott-will-never-get-rid-of-573155
and Now for Something Completely Different...
Admit it. You aren’t like them. You’re not even close. You may occasionally dress yourself up as one of them, watch the same mindless television shows as they do, maybe even eat the same fast food sometimes. But it seems that the more you try to fit in, the more you feel like an outsider, watching the “normal people” as they go about their automatic existences. For every time you say club passwords like “Have a nice day” and “Weather’s awful today, eh?”, you yearn inside to say forbidden things like “Tell me something that makes you cry” or “What do you think deja vu is for?”
Face it, you even want to talk to that girl in the elevator. But what if that girl in the elevator (and the balding man who walks past your cubicle at work) are thinking the same thing? Who knows what you might learn from taking a chance on conversation with a stranger? Everyone carries a piece of the puzzle. Nobody comes into your life by mere coincidence. Trust your instincts. Do the unexpected. Find the others. ~Timothy Leary
“The place to improve the world is first in one's own heart and head and hands, and then work outward from there.”
― Robert M. Pirsig
#BornOnThisDay Though he had an exceptionally high IQ and took college chemistry classes as a fifteen-year-old, Robert M. Pirsig’s adolescence was characterized by difficulty making friends, struggling with a stammer, and getting expelled from the University of Minnesota for failing grades. Nevertheless, he eventually returned to the world of academia as a professor of philosophy, but not before he had served a stint in the U.S. Army that led him to Japan, where he discovered Zen Buddhism, and attended Banaras Hindu University in India. Yet it was a 1968 motorcycle trip with his young son Christopher that crystallized many of Pirsig’s philosophical ideas and became the basis for his bestselling debut novel, Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance (1974).
The novel, which was rejected by more than 120 publishers before it finally sold, was an instant sensation and made Pirsig an unwitting celebrity. Though often dismissed by his fellow philosophers, its attempts to bridge Eastern and Western philosophical traditions–with the metaphysical and the material coexisting rather than competing–spoke to a generation grappling with new technology and the meaning of life. The onslaught of attention, plus Pirsig’s struggles with mental illness, led him to frequently seek refuge in a camper van or far out to sea in his boat. His son Christopher’s murder at the age of 22 also led Pirsig to explore a darker philosophical realm in his second novel, Lila, which was released in 1991.
Pirsig continued to teach for many years and practiced Zen Buddhism throughout his life, but he wrote less and less with age. He passed away at age 88 in 2017, leaving behind his wife, his two surviving children, and several grandchildren.
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