S-21

Greetings,

This is from Wikipedia.

The Tuol Sleng Genocide Museum is a museum in Phnom Penh, the capital of Cambodia. The site is a former high school which was used as the notorious Security Prison 21 (S-21) by the Khmer Rouge regime from its rise to power in 1975 to its fall in 1979. Tuol Sleng in Khmer; [tuəl slaeŋ] means "Hill of the Poisonous Trees" or "Strychnine Hill".

Here are the security rules at the S-21 prison.

When prisoners were first brought to Tuol Sleng, they were made aware of ten rules that they were to follow during their incarceration. What follows is what is posted today at the Tuol Sleng Museum; the imperfect grammar is a result of faulty translation from the original Khmer:

1. You must answer accordingly to my question. Don’t turn them away.

2. Don’t try to hide the facts by making pretexts this and that, you are strictly prohibited to contest me.

3. Don’t be a fool for you are a chap who dare to thwart the revolution.

4. You must immediately answer my questions without wasting time to reflect.

5. Don’t tell me either about your immoralities or the essence of the revolution.

6. While getting lashes or electrification you must not cry at all.

7. Do nothing, sit still and wait for my orders. If there is no order, keep quiet. When I ask you to do something, you must do it right away without protesting.

8. Don’t make pretext about Kampuchea Krom in order to hide your secret or traitor.

9. If you don’t follow all the above rules, you shall get many many lashes of electric wire.

10. If you disobey any point of my regulations you shall get either ten lashes or five shocks of electric discharge.

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Metta.

Neurosis

Greetings,

I'm ok. It's the world that's in a mess.

People here love to look back. It is a passion. It is a genetic molecule of fear, doubt and uncertainty. Perhaps also just a plain childish innocent curiosity of wanting the past, needing.

Yes. Focus on needs, not wants. Needs manifesting their desire. A desire for a ghost. We are all passing through. 

They look back to see if they see, yes, in their vivid reptilian imagination a ghost. Their ghost. A ghost from a family, friend, lost. Looking for clues at their personal ground zero. 

They've arrived from distant galaxies. Java man was discovered here 40,000 years ago.

So it figures, accepting an evolutionary premise, their DNA star chart continues its genetic dance today. 

I live in talking monkey zones. They eat rice. They drink water. They wash one set of clothing and hang it out to dry on poles. They burn down the forest. They harvest brooms. Their shamans bring rain. Tropical downpours allow people the luxury to wash cars. 

They use their faint star energy to look, not really seeing, behind them wondering, all the wondering. 

Food is cheap here. Medicine and education is expensive. This has nothing to do with simians. It has nothing to do with the two women sitting in a dark warung neighborhood food joint. The warung faces a tall cinder block wall. Chickens, goats and cats prowl, peck and forage through garbage and dreams.

One woman sits quietly in a deep meditation. Her friend parts her hair gently, looking for minute insects, cleaning her scalp. They take turns cleaning and inspecting. This genetic behavior is being repeated in zoos, jungles, and rain forests. Chattering oral story tellers play the gamelan, pounding out 40,000 year old tunes.

Healing the people with music.

Males wash their little toy machines. They study the accumulated grime under long yellow curling fingernails. They play chess along the road waiting for passengers. Some visit the warung to chat up the girls or eat spicy rice mixed with tofu, chicken, veggies, green chillies and deep fried snacks.

Here's one man building a brave new world. Forging new futures with a patriotic purpose. An assessment on process in a data based star cluster.

Metta.

My name is Captain Dan. I was an interpreter at MAC V during the Vietnam War. I sail out of Hoi An.

35 years later

Greetings,

Today Vietnam celebrated 35 years since the end of the war.

58,000 Americans and 3 million Vietnamese were killed. The images are from the HCMC museum in Ho Chi Minh City and Ha Noi History Museum.

Metta.

Voices

Greetings,

A man's voice from magnified speakers echoes down river on new year's day. He talks about what ifs and maybes. Exhortations about the dire need for clean drinking water, sanitation, education and medicine.

What is the significance of new year? Another day, another opportunity for talking animals to discuss, share and elaborate on gaseous topics like:

• how to mill around without causing damage to the environment
• how to wear a yellow "HELLO" cell phone t-shirt without a license
• how laughing orphans fill up a wheelbarrow with lost dreams
• how perpetually distracted humans face unpleasant facts
• how loose tongues are required to discuss, share, elaborate or mystify a woman slicing limes
• how three foreign female educators chew nails and contemplate new programs in circular fashion
• how humans will never escape 'art'
• how teams of ants try, try, try to maneuver a large piece of sugar candy up a steep cement mountain
• how an experienced bicycle traveller from Holland named Harold helps at the grassroots level to improve children's quality of life in Cambodian orphanages and Burmese refugee camps. How he eschews large organizations working directly with the people. 

How bullet points fly to a target.

On new year's day, the woman in her blue pajamas decorates the family altar with cans and bottles of soft drinks, coconuts, durian, perfume, two crystal glasses of milk, candles, candy, bread, rice, oranges, apples, water, incense, photos of dead relatives, cockroaches, howling dogs, baboons, balloons, clouds, clones and clowns.

She turns on the TV. She turns it really LOUD. Her daughters, 4, 6, are entranced and captivated by the visual circus. They never read books. The idiot box allows the kids, servants, tuk-tuk drivers, husband and foreign guests to give up their consciousness. Another diversion, another day, a new year day. April Fools!

New day, new diversion, people pretending to be busy.

Angkor Wat Hindu dancers in gold silk lame dresses with towering headdresses perform ancient dances. Apsara fingers, delicate movements. They celebrate seasons, fertility, rice, fish, nature, courtship, and joy. 

She is frail, about 80 with silver hair. She sits in front of her house. Her left hand rests on a cane. She wears a beautiful purple sarong with golden threads and a white lace blouse. Her daughter trims her hair above the left ear with shiny silver scissors. The woman's smile illuminates her tranquil face.

Metta.

14 ministries

Greetings,

I work in the Chinese Propaganda Department. There are 14 ministries in the department.
Before the internet there was only one ministry, The Ministry of Truth. 

We, the drudges, have ministries all over the place and it's a huge financial and time consuming operation. Growth causes all of us, and I'm talking about millions, stress, anxiety and proverbial FEAR. 

I am authorized by Sir George Orwell to tell you about four ministries.

George is a good guy. He doesn't accept bribes, cash donations, cars, floral arrangements, luxury apartments on Hainan island with free golf membership and clean educational opportunities for his children at the finest schools money can buy so they will prosper and behave themselves in a harmonious society. 

It comes down to controlling information. Ignorance is strength. We've made some mistakes but we're improving our quality control.

The Ministry of Filters, for example, purifies and validates search engines, links and tags to verify their adherence to the Party line. The Party line is a secure communication system in a Mongolian yurt. It is covered with a thin veneer of high grade ultrasonic vibration-free saran wrap. This prevents exposure to Echelon communication satellite interception. Echelon is a big vacuum cleaner in the sky.

The Ministry of Soup controls emergency eye scans of all Chinese people to determine their thoughts. Thoughts are precious and the Chinese people only have a few centimeters. Thought control is part of our culture.

The Ministry of Culture and Currency is vast. Their responsibility is to provide and maintain a network of fake useless paper currency to create the illusion of value. The currency is embedded with sensors to monitor any and all verbal and non-verbal communication before, during and after any and all exchanges. It is very effective. 

A strong and important subdivision is The Ministry of Advertising. You can easily imagine how pervasive this subtle, subliminal and esoteric form of control is. It creates false needs, wants and desires among the sheep convincing them through thought control how insignificant and meaningless their worthless life is without more consumption behavior.

The ministry develops, maintains and reinforces, especially focusing on the poor lower classes how their lives will be enriched beyond belief if they struggle to raise their expectations. It's a circle game.

They used to walk. Then they wanted a Flying Pigeon bike. Then they wanted a radio. Then they wanted a refrigerator. Then they wanted a washing machine. Then they wanted  a 46-inch plasma television with remote control. Then they wanted a car, house, vacation, free medical care, cheap food, books and incense to worship the dead.

The ministry controls all the people by a large remote device. This device is embedded into every Chinese citizen's cerebral cortex at birth. It is very effective. 

Big Brother is watching. Thank you for your attention.

Metta.

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