Dust
Dust.
I don't get it. Where does it come from? And why is it in my house? I don't think I indulge in any egregiously slobular dust-generating behaviors here. And at present it's freaking cold outside, so the windows are all shut, which means it can't get in that way. And yet, here it is. Everywhere.
Why?
Generally I get after it on Sundays. But by the next Sunday, it is back again. Why? How does that happen?
Yesterday, in the Sunday, I could do nothing at all about the dust. Because a lawyer had me working on a thing all day. And so, when I awoke this Monday morning, the dust, it was everywhere. The house, it was like a Mummy crypt, in one of those old black-and-white movies. Great balls of dust, they were rolling through the house, like tumbleweeds. I had to beat one back with a broom, just to get into the bathroom.
Today I couldn't go after the dust, either; because a different lawyer, he had me working on a different thing.
So what will it be like tomorrow? And what if there is no tomorrow: what if, in the night, I succumb to the dust? They will write on the 
death certificate: "Dust Victim."
Dust, it is a menace, to all of the humans: and, especially, when the dust, it glows in the dark. It doesn't care, then, whether you wear a sports cap for MAGA, or Putes, or Xi, or even Charles Manson. It will Get you. Just the same.
The Science Men, they are always inventing perfectly dreadful, awful things. Like bombs, like poisons, like sweaters for dogs. Why can't they invent instead something genuinely useful? Like a machine I can turn on, while standing in the middle of the house, that will instantly, powerfully, suck up all the dust, without also inhaling the cats and the furniture?
A machine that will also suck up all the nukes. From all, and everybody. Everywhere. And forever.
I think the Cat In The Hat, he possesses such a wonderment. It is called Voom. But the Science Men, they don't seem interested.
It is said that every day more than sixty tons of cosmic dust rains down upon the earth. I suppose there is nothing I can do about that—I would not presume, in any event, to tell the cosmos what to do—but what I want to know is, is there a Reason, why so much of it, is raining down on me? Because all it does. Is make me See. And how far away. I am. From thee, and ye. Thee, and ye: a site, at present, overrun by war criminals. Wildly ejaculating that, so long as you are not American, so long as you are Putes, or Xi, or Jong, or even Charles Manson, of course you should build, and at once, nuke bombs, and deploy them, from sea, to shining sea.
Thee, and ye: madfuck mass murderers. Working to churn. All us every. Into dust.
Comments
Everything is dust in the wind.
[video:https://youtu.be/lQem15Ow6hw]
Dustology, for beginners
From dust we come, to dust we go. Both facts.
Cosmic dust: stand outside your home with a pristine pail and see how much you collect.
Soil: the main source of household dust, followed, depending upon your location by particulates descending from above.
Yet even if you had a totally air-infiltration proof home, you would still have dust--even if you lived alone. The source is discarded epithelial cells lining the exterior of your corpus.
However, having heuristically enabled this conversation, I think I will dust my broom:
[video:https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=igyQ969ovaA]
when
you dust your broom, you will find that you have picked up particulates from the pizza, that consist of creamy garlic sauce, which is actually spirit-cooked Podesta semen, which knowledge was Deep State-vouchsafed unto you, from the Q continuum, which, as everyone knows, is John Lancie, it's just that work for him in the movies and TV has been slow of late, and so, to pass the time, he has been fucking with you all, in the chans. And, you all, fell for it. And, you keep, falling.
[video:https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KD55dkiX_ZQ]
Thank you for repeating your recipe
Absent the semen, which you suggest, I find the creamy garlic sauce to be delightful.
Regarding John Lancie, his correct name is John de Lancie. I did not fancy the various Star Trek fantasies, which apparently please you in some ethereal way and thus have no idea about which you discuss. Perhaps if you succeed in channeling Gene Roddenberry, you might enlighten me as to the cosmic significance of the Q continuum--is that something like the space-time continuum?
In the meantime, a suitable companion for your essay.
[video:https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cMp57bUzOB8]
the
Q continuum is an assemblage of the all and every. Which, by definition, contains mountains and mountains, of pure bullshit.
As, surely, you know.
It is very sad that, blinded by your Podesta pizza semen and all, you could not even summon, the proper "Gold Dust Woman."
[video:https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BITE3g7lSkw]
According to you, Q is the all and everything
including mountains of bullshit. Referring to your font of all knowledge, Wikipedia, we find that Q Star Trek that the fictional entity in which you place so much certitude is a magic man
It thus appears that your gnosticism of real events devolves around fictional constructs with which you seem to be enamored. A strange path to knowledge.
Rather than dwell upon the fantasy world into which you seem to take credence, thereby becoming somehow either solipsistic or delusional, we should discuss the etiology of dust rather than spirit cooking and Q conitinua.
As far as musicology is concerned, the original Gold Dust Woman sung by Stevie Nicks did not involve a string orchestra nor did it have a duration of more than 5 minutes as your so-called "more proper" version of this Fleetwood Mac song. And, in fact I saw the contemporaneous FMac band perform the same song, just the same way as it was presented in the comment above. This occurred in 1977. So if there is a prior version, please elucidate it and I shall apologize to your all-knowing Q wisdom. In the mean time, it is interesting that that you thread-jacked your own essay, perhaps because you had only dust to offer.
you
are obviously a disturbed person, but I have empathy for you, because you cite to wikipedia for knowledge, which is a desperation only resorted to by someone reduced to sucking sustenance from his own anal canal.
Which, confirms, to me, what I already knew: you are a stunningly stupid person, who has nothing to offer to anyone with a functioning cerebrum.
I am sorry if that sounds rude, but it is just a fact.
Which means I am unable to discuss anything at any length with you, because, so far as I can tell, you do not have what in Science would be confirmed as a brain.
There are many creatures on this planet, who do not have brains, but, unfortunately, I did not receive the proper schooling, to enable me to communicate with such beings.
Nonetheless, I for sure look forward, to your next breathless epistle, about how the Deep State semen-smeared pizzas will For Sure bring down Rosenstein and Comey, who will Definitely be shown to have Buggered various Clintons, in various Gaping syphlitic Holes, and in full view of Christopher Steele, who sat there masturbating like a monkey, while Brennan, he swallowed it all.
It will be a Whiz Bang of a report, and many monkeys, they will drag knuckles to it.
You will be feted as a Hero, and that will be Right and Meet. Because we are in the age of the Tubes now, where it is a Law, that right is wrong; and wrong is right. And: so: long: may you reign. I will stand there, and I will Clap. As your parade. It passes by.
I keep wondering the same thing.
My most obvious dust is reddish-brown in colour, and is clearly visible on the windowsill (of closed windows), along with some kind of spider particles. I know now where it comes from, but that doesn’t explain how it gets there.
I suspect that we may,
At times simply know,
From what source it does come
But, to where does it go?
I had to read The cat in the Hat Comes Back, again. I read this verse differently than in my more innocent readings …
[video:https://youtu.be/f7QzxYAjgNc]
geisel
grew a brain. By the time he came to The Cat In The Hat Comes Back, he knew that all pop-guns were no good. Whether the trigger may be pulled by a Hairball, a Putes, or a Xi.
Unfortunately, this site, at present, is knuckledragging something like 600,000 years behind.
Hairball pop-gun: bad! Putes pop-gun: good! Xi pop-gun: good! Charles Manson pop-gun: maybe, good!
[video:https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=58NqTpUL2rw]
That is very good, thank you.
Nothing like the cello to engage the heart.
[video:https://youtu.be/3ne3WLOgNkE]
Sniff, I want some of your dust, it's so good and it makes me
see and feel.
Thanks.
this
is my dust.
[video:https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uAn1Bx-HEPk]
ooh ... how can I understand it? It's a lonely, beautiful guitar
playing in the most lonely ever lasting open wide space. The image to this music video lead me to She is leaving the Bank.
Too many associations I make with "She is leaving the Bank". (I apologize to never have seen the movie - but in another way it speaks to me - which shall not not be talked about). The image and the music: Lonely beauty and full of unspoken words and thoughts for the soul to cling on to.
Thank You, hecate, for all the
fishdust.Thanks for the smile mimi,
and for your refined sense of smell ; ).
Yes! All my life have had similar thoughts/complaints about dust
Perhaps fantasy author Philip Pullman is on to something:
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dust_%28His_Dark_Materials%29
What Alligator Ed said about dermatology and what Big Al said
about Dust in the Wind, bearing in mind that, in addition to dermatology, your windows and doors are not airtight; and, very likely, you do open a door to the outside at some point between Sundays.
Phooey on the chemical stews of household products that scientists typically provide, though. On the advice of a furniture provider, I dust even unpainted wood with a very slightly damp piece of terry cloth robe or towel that I cut up when it reached "cleaning rag" condition, then toss it in the wash. Or I use the dusting attachment of the vacuum, depending on the nature of that which needs dusting and whether I am vacuuming anyway.
As always, I am in awe of your writing.
thanks
Though the post was not really about the everyday dust.
[video:https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=s4VlruVG81w]
Yes, I know. However, I am, according to a few posters
from message boards I frequented earlier in my posting career, "awfully literal." Besides, who can't love an eco-friendly household tip?
Strangely I don't love that dust ...to that song /nt
one of the benefits
of cosmic debris is when you write something with your finger on the surface of the hutch, it eventually gets filled-in and disappears.
What an absolutely wonderful start to the day's affairs this is.
Thanks, hecate, and all participants.
As to the mysterious Q - it is but a typo, an elision. The singer of Dust in the Wind closes his eye and things are gone. Duh. Close but it isn't eye, but I that is absent.
Qi animates all, structures, defines, forms and permeates all and when some universal typesetter dropped the i "Q" emerged. It is all that Qi is with one difference, the "I" is lacking, is it but Qi sans ego.
That, in its essence, is fascism--ownership of government by an individual, by a group, or by any other controlling private power. -- Franklin D. Roosevelt --
Qi is key
once heard it described as life energy.
namaste
Yes, and more. It is the all pervasive vibratory manifestation
of the Tao.
That, in its essence, is fascism--ownership of government by an individual, by a group, or by any other controlling private power. -- Franklin D. Roosevelt --
Delightful
Sorry I don't have anything witty to add, but I happily drank in every word and comment. Just mulling them now.
Thanks. Body is sick today and this was great medicine.
Marilyn
"Make dirt, not war." eyo
Sorry to hear of the sickness. Here's to a speedy recovery.
That, in its essence, is fascism--ownership of government by an individual, by a group, or by any other controlling private power. -- Franklin D. Roosevelt --
Slobular.
What a great word choice! My slobular cats surely help with the dust generation, and I too have to corral the errant hairballs that roll along like tumbleweeds at least once a week. If only the cats could stop shedding and I could stop shedding there'd be no more dust! But I don't think no dust is possible, and I'd bet some Russians have been adding some to it as well...
Only a fool lets someone else tell him who his enemy is. Assata Shakur