Hello. I go back to work this Sunday. Could be a gas. I’m a cab driver. I work the streets…. With these words – ‘palabras’ in Spanish – this editor, a half-editor at that, attempts to greasily weasel into your soul. Don’t let him. Be vigilant. Join the “Not My Editor Movement” and goddammit free Snowden, now that Castro’s gone. My brother was a big one for offering, ‘free mustache growing lessons’. I almost got killed one time offering help for a struggling young man. I really thought the cracker was going to kick the shit out of me. And imagine, this far north! Huh! It was consolation, though, in that if the young man fought like the delicate blonde wisps on his chin were attempting to grow, well, out of pity I redoubled my efforts and told him with my help he’d be shaving in no time. The brute even tried to attack me! Imagine.

Pitchforks! Man, pitchforks!! Oh do I remember “Night Gallery”. The 1968-69 TV show. A restart up of “The Twilight Zone”. Rod Serling still smoking, introducing themed paintings from a spooky art gallery. He’s got longer hair but still is wincingly appropriate for his role; introducing the teleplay stories of fright. But rarely was their fright. In its stead there was humor. Humor of the best kind. Unintentional humor. From material methinks was supposed to resemble horror. For instance my favorite, the episode about the biker going to hell.

It starred John Austin, the Addams Family show Dad. And a bunch of old geezers. “Gomez Addams” ( the actor John Austin) played a hell bent for leather biker in a nondescript pre-departure area getting ready to jump into the chute and slide on down into hell. He’s freshly dead, and excited; he’s heading to hell. Wearing a long wig and hat, loaded down with chains, swastika jewelry and leather he is anticipatory. He wants it all, unadulterated. The fire, hot pokers in his eyes, meeting the Devil, the whole shebang. He goes down the chute and arrives in a retirement home with the residents dancing gently to old time music. He wants to see fire, gnashing of teeth and wanton death and destruction. He finds kind stooped older people, sweetly dancing. Moral of the story; when you desire something much, so much you are visibly excited, wantonly eager, things conspire against you to ensure your wish is not the Universe’ command. And you should always trans-value values (Nietzsche). In life, and even in death, the opposite is always true.

Now last time I spoke of the nano-generator building from nothing up. Stacking atoms and molecules until the item is completed by smart computer programmed building atoms. The nano-bot plucks atoms out of the air or a solution to build, from a single atom up, stacking various molecules until the item – say a food item, a house, an auto, huge mile long nuclear craft built in space – achieves proper form and function. And scarcity and power differentials based on material wealth vanish. A status based society thereby ensues, based not on money capital but cultural capital. Yet, possibly, the theorists tell us, a far different scenario ensues. In the alternative scenario the nano-generator does not transform atoms into useful stacked molecules (a molecule is atoms combined in a certain manner) but rather, the atoms are combined in an amorphous mass defined as the “gray goo”. This transformation starts and cannot be stopped. The process does not build but dismantles already existing molecules into a structure-less mess of in-completion. All life, including humans, becomes reduced to a simple molecular or single cell structure incapable of supporting life as we know it now. It is the ultimate nightmare scenario and all semblance of Earth as it is vanishes as a sort of useless molecular stew dismantles and converts the planet and perhaps the chain reaction engulfs and changes the entire Universe until another order-er or natural selection again occurs. This is why Israeli scientists wrote me requesting copies of my article. I believe they were most interested in the part where I spoke of weaponizing this possibly new method of construction. The operative line in my paper was when I spoke of computerizing atoms, setting them a-drift in the air and programming them to dismantle humans from the inside out. Of converting human molecules into some form of a deathly gray-goo. And sending them with the breeze over to Palestine! Yikes!!

But no matter, continue writing up until the point of your dismantling and you’ll be fine. Like Orwell propped up in his death bed typing getting it down until the end. If you engage in such scribe activity, the day of your death will surely be “a night to remember”. So keep those poems coming, cherish yourself and others, stay health and most important of all, keep writing.

Ciao,

Randall

12/9/2016