Yarr !! Here I be !?!

Welcome to the strangest thing in the blogosphere. Having watched the growth of social media from it's birth, blogging is on thing I swore I'd never do: well never say never. From it's murky beginnings self- publishing on the web seem like a fine idea. There are always a great many ideas which should be spoken aloud, but have no "market niche" to support them. Direct to reader paperless publishing seemed to offer a useful option to examine, refine, and debate all aspects of the human experience, from industrial ethics to interpersonal dynamics. (hell thems just the "i"s )

Unfortunately, as time writhed on the weblog became the domain of ,at best, turd-polishing half-wits who spun a regurgatant variation of government approved ideas; and at worst, the warcraftless world of brainless spuds whose originality was matched only by their gormless stupidity. In short, the ideas published ,(upon reflective examination)should have been spoken using the internal monologue only. (we got earf**ked via the web)

If you'followed along to this line, the question creeping into your mind is likely something thusly - "Why would this nameless, overly verbose arsehole create a blog, given all the nasty things he's had to say about blogs?"

Well the answer is a two-parter, firstly, the wild fires of stupidity raging through the internet seem to have burned low, not out mind you, just dimmed. At this point it seems that a great many people have developed a web based bullshit detector so as to avoid junk food grade blog content. It would seem that now, an idea with an internaly consistant logical frame work could be introduced, reviewed, revised, and perhaps implemented, with out being drowned in a vast river of sewerage. (god bless ann coulter's broken jaw)

Secondly, I want money. Notice that I didn't say "need". This difference is important. Most of my needs are met without cash. Through the course of a year I hunt, fish, garden, trade, scavenge, scrounge, repair, manufacture, or borrow most of the goods and material I need to flesh out my existance. While I have the skill sets to shed the acoutrema of the North American industrially supported lifestlye and vanish into the mountains, well I did that when I was younger; living that close to nature no longer holds my interest.

Actually, my interest has been lost in a great many things: In the course of four decades I've been a bodyguard, bouncer, dishwasher, cook, deckhand, prospector, roughneck, stage actor, screen extra, make-up assistant, hair salon manager, peer councelor, in-between/scenic writer, surveyor, pro-am drunk, martial arts instuctor, gigolo, gambler, framer, welder, telcom systems designer, hardware tech, expititer, ecetera, ad infinitium, ad nausem. ( hang in there, the journey is part of the destination)

My grandfather, who first taught me how hunt, fish, snare, and skin said to me " My legacy to you is your head and your hands, the only thing you will carry with you always and everywhere is your experience." So I go there, see that, do this, get bored, move on, repeat. A life less ordinary may not lend it self to community pillar security, but the stories will blow yer mind.

Years a-gone I read a book; "Starship and the Canoe", it was called, and despite the poetic title, it weren't no work of fiction. Rather, it was the story of two men named Dyson, father and son. Even though it’s been years since I read the story, the tale goes something like this: The elder, Freeman Dyson will be familiar to sci-fi aficionados; for the "Dyson Sphere", and perhaps the "Orion Maneuver". The son has had less of a media presence, but his influence, while subtle, is perhaps greater than that of his sire. Freeman held a great many degrees worked with several potent and prestigious organizations, including the American nuclear weapons program. George Dyson, went a different path- making his way to the west coast of North America, he worked up and down the Coast, hauling light freight, cultivating potatoes, and exploring the rainforest. Then George did something different and rather cool.......he started building kayaks. Now, for a lot of people walking the Earth today, a kayak is not such a much; an interesting piece of sporting gear, but not much more. A few decades back, it was almost a historical footnote known only to a few anthropologists. The turning point was George Dyson. He not only revived the craft, but pioneered the building of theses handy little vessel out of modern materials. And one other thing. too..........I ain’t gonna spoil it fer ya, read the book. But the thing I came away with was this: humanity cannot make it to space, UNLESS our spacecraft are built like canoes.....or kayaks. By human hands and minds; for if we cannot construct them at will with materials at hand, our space ships shall become historical footnotes, like Da Vinci’s helicopter, Heros steam turbine, or like the kayak....almost. So having said all that, here’s the brass tacks: Meself and a few other hearty swags have a venture in mind- that being nothing short of humans in space; without the “help” of goverments, corporations or tech that just ain’t up to the task. The funding and manpower shall come from the “clouds”, so if you wish to help, donate at the least......although, if you got some kinda book learnin’ or practical experience, get in touch. We may need of YOUR assistance. More to follow, I suppose, but for now: ‘nuff said.