He would love mine. It also talks with a beautiful American accent and a mere $300 AUD brand new. Everything I love about China, perfectly typified by this machine they made.
I tried the mop function today after top gun afterburning the vacuum function. It's all controlled by my phone. It has three suck levels and three mop water levels. It even finds its own way back to its charging pod and can be activated from far away as controlled by WiFi.
https://youtu.be/Ye7FKc1JQe4?si=SsQpyJUV6fWp-k4G
One of my American best buddies is telling me to publish my travel memoirs so here's something... This is the guy in like late March 2005 we go up to the window at Fox News in Manhattan and I stick my head on the glass pane..... Just me and him, I'd just spent like a year in china.....
To answer your question, I didn't do much in Biloxi Mississippi. I entered with a bunch of Spanish speakers, some legal some without proper immigration paperwork, from Louisiana. Sharing a house together with whoever other Spanish speakers, which is a common thing amongst Spanish speakers in America: moving around together, sharing buses, cars, homes, food, etc. There were no cartel types there that I know of however shortly afterwards I ended up spending a couple weeks dishwashing in Florida with a coyote criminal Mexican guy, somewhat likeable I must say.
It's quite a cosy arrangement amongst the hispano parlantes all over America I reckon.
Our sharehouse in Biloxi was a short walk to the waterside (gulf of Mexico). I reckon Mississippi law requires all casinos to be floating not on dry land. The most amazing thing looking back, is that the nearest casino of this kind, was shortly afterwards destroyed by hurricane Katrina just a matter of weeks later and just a few weeks later I saw a photo of said casino, with it's unmistakable giant guitar neck. Snapped, in a Chinese newspaper in china near Beijing. Amazing. The very same place from a few weeks beforehand in Biloxi, making news in china, due to freak weather destruction.
Similar destructive weather just hit that part of China (Beijing 2023) where that kooky Biloxi casino photo was in the local newspaper.
Interesting.
So after my 'poodling' around, as my hostile sister Patricia would say. Also somewhat of a traveller, and bidding adieu to my coyote cartel friend. Roberto. I noted Roberto mentioned being detained by the FBI at one point and being told he was on their most wanted list. Hearing his stories of coordinating hundreds of people across the freezing deserts of the former Spanish territories of Mexico and Texas, two or three cell phones on hand, ICE helicopters circling overhead. A cartel truck driver on the Texan side of the border. Rocks to hide under to evade the helicopters. People freezing to death. Roberto, the ruthless shepherd, their fearless leader. He offered me a job for 100k per year weighing and packaging drugs, and probably pimping whores too. Biloxi seemed so far away at that moment. Sigh, it was all too much for the comfort lovin' poodle Benji. I waddled over to the airport in Florida, panting slightly in my poodle like way and paid a little extra for using cash to purchase a one way flight back to NYC.
My new roommate who has just moved in when I'd departed my beautiful and expensive home in Queens a month earlier for Biloxi and beyond (Florida, Polk County), Guadalupe, a first generation Texan woman from Mexican parents has divorced her military white guy husband and was feeling randy. I was sure I could help.
For some inexplicable reason, be it genetic defect, a dark and emotionally empty, poodle like soul, or whatever the reason was, the freedom of east coast America and the loving embrace of the maturely aged Guadalupe, some seven years older than my 29 years, did not seem enough to satisfy my urge to return from whence I had come, communist China.
I admit it never looked colder and more totalitarian than after an almost six months stay in impressive NYC including the four week southern sojourn just mentioned. Something magical about the southern American states can let my imprisoned and forgotten childhood Australian slow drawling accent roam free, even just for a moment at a corner store after putting up drywall in a cheap new fabricated house with the Hispanics, speaking Spanish all day. One of the guys with a real residency card in the pipeworks, unlike my fake one, is a steelworker and a shipbuilder. A slow drawling Australian accent is always well received in the southern states of America.
In Hong Kong I purchase a ticket for faraway Xinjiang. To visit a local ughur there that was my friend in Shandong two years before. I still feel tremendous freedom in myself and tremendous strength and potential in the Chinese who I had spent over a year with at this point. My ughur friend was from the spring time of 2004. I left his area flying to Paris and taking a slow train to Sofia Bulgaria at the end of spring 2004. Leaving behind the small town in Shandong which I found immensely pleasant. All the stories of human rights violations and tortured folks having their organs plundered never even entered my calculations any more than an IBM worker in 1940s America making punch cards destined for nazi Germany and Jewish extermination. Similarly I was unaware of the fate of my ughur friend. Our carefree soccer playing days with his religious Uyghur friends, he himself sceptical about religion, were a memory like a fable or dream, something that actually occurred but now seems dreamlike in my recollection. I made my future and current wife's acquaintance in Bulgaria at the tender age of 21. We go on a date but don't even head to first base. Somehow we end up marrying and having kids.
The internal freedom I felt, immense and unaware, barely self conscious, and the tremendous potential and power latent in the Chinese people are front and centre as I fly into Xinjiang from NYC in late August 2005, some eighteen years ago now. My ughur friend organises a local meal with many locals, including many mature, maternal age ughur women. He works in a water waste treatment centre, having graduated from college in Shandong. All of his colleagues are Chinese and he hates them, small wonder as they would all end up enslaving his people en masse in something akin to the Nazi German campaign against the Jews. Instead of starvation and beatings and swift and merciful death. They get electric zapping cattle prods by the train load and beatings and possibly less starvation, a similar amount of rape and beatings. Less immediate and swift death which they would prefer, and more incarceration and brainwashing from a hostile totalitarian Orwellian state. I leave the area after three weeks and fly to Beijing. My first manager there is a sexy Chinese woman and I just want to hump the shit out of her. She's telling me her father is a cop in Tibet so another psycho sadistic Chinese authoritarian guy no doubt. Thank God she leaves me as for some reason I'm not interested in screwing the pants off her even though my body wants it. The school is cold and sterile in a satellite city near Beijing. I leave the slightly privileged sixteen year old kids there and head for the south where the weather is warmer and the people of Guangdong hopefully more relaxed and human and likeable. Warmer.
Hmm, there's a guy from north Dakota running for the republican nomination in America. Doug Burgum I think his name is. It's an interesting concept. He phrases it as having a job where you need a shower at the end of the day not the beginning. He kind of says it likes it's better to have a job where you get dirty however that's his approach I'll skip that inference and just look at the concept as it's a pretty good notion....
I can now shower at two bus depots plus two different sailing clubs. All four places require special keys to get in. I could also get a camping bladder shower for my boat or just dump a bucket of water over myself on the boat in the coming summer months.
IT jobs, shower before work.
Dirty jobs like gardening, cleaning roofs, shower after work
Things I've noticed recently. Pete Buttigieg's husband, yes husband (they're both men), took his same last name and they've both adopted one or two babies. I think it's creepy. Call me homophobic but when I mention to gay men if they have kids (since it's a thing nowadays), he might say, 'oh hell no I'm gay!'.
Interesting. My father would have told them they're going backwards, all the gays. Probably their kids too.
I've noticed they're selling Goya brand stuffed jars at a local produce shop. The Goya commercials on the radio are annoying.
Watch:
https://youtu.be/wgu_Coy3z8Y
In the mystic Swedenborg's writings we read that Abraham is a metaphor for childhood. In this wise the story of the beggar in Luke chapter sixteen, dying and carried by the angels to Abraham's bosom means to die and be eventually reincarnated to Abraham's bosom (childhood).
Being in torments (in Hades) he lifted up his eyes and saw Lazarus afar off in Abraham's bosom. (Lazarus living again as a reincarnated or resurrected child).
When I was a child around age nine, ten, etc, my father got membership in a video club and would often bring home big Hollywood blockbuster movies and b grade movies on VHS tapes. The aforementioned often recently played out on the big screen. Especially memorable were Richard Prior and Gene Hackman in the Silver Streak. I still remember that train plowing through Grand Central station in NYC, unstoppable. Or maybe it was Chicago. I did go to Grand Central station one time in NYC.
Did I feel like Lazarus, happy in Abraham's bosom? Lazarus never had the Class of 1984 to watch, an R rating I suppose. I certainly wasn't complaining. I'm not sure what Lazarus had apart from his mother's bosom, to keep him happy. But I was never complaining, watching my Hollywood blockbusters as a kid. Literally block busting in the case of the Silver Streak and its eventual termination.
Have I ever felt like the rich man in Hades? Seeing Lazarus in Abraham's bosom? Well I mentioned on this blog one particular Anglican church in Sydney where I thought it may have been the case that both my sister and my father passed through, reincarnated in Abraham's bosom as it were. Both of the mothers of the girl and boy (I do not believe souls often reincarnate in opposite genders nor that transgender philosophy is anything but Satanism). I wouldn't say I was in the fires of Hades when I saw these two kids in Abraham's bosom (childhood). Both of the mothers of these children seemed capable parents. The girl's mother an Anglo Saxon, the boy's a Ukrainian. I cannot prove that the respective children were the literal reincarnations of my sister and father however likewise no-one can prove otherwise.
Neither child showed any interest in the other. So unlike the rich man and his perception of Lazarus in Abraham's bosom, I didn't see any recognition of the two children in Abraham's bosom that they had been in a father daughter relationship in the immediately previous life, or any kind of recognition of each other as knowing each other from other previous lifes apart from the immediate one. In any case, I would think that in many churches, all around the world, such scenarios are common where children in the church are resurrected to other families within full sight of the older people who recently lost a family member. This could explain the comfort many people find in their congregations. I would describe this as a kind of 'holographic principle' like a three dimensional shadow on a two dimensional plane such as recently described by the American David Grunsch in Congress in the last week, regarding life on earth....
https://youtu.be/aYKkQQd7I4s
Since I had the fires of Hades to contend with before and after those busy days when my firstborn child, a boy, was a little toddler at that church. I can still relate to the rich man.
Furthermore, at Jacob's well with the Samaritan woman and elsewhere, Jesus talks about food and drink in terms of spiritual knowledge that satisfies. Did I find Class of 1984 spiritual knowledge that satisfied as a child? Let's say it piqued my interest. What is spiritual knowledge that satisfies?
Is it what the rich man was craving in the fires of Hades? Itself a metaphor for a spiritually tormenting situation.
The rich man sees Abraham afar off. Can it be that while being tormented in hell between lifetimes that we're aware our succour, resurrection as a baby, Abraham's bosom, is a long way away? Could time really be moot at this point like a spiritual state while dreaming at night.
The rich man wishes for Lazarus to dip his finger in water. Don't children often do this by wiping away tears?
I would even speculate that Abraham is 16:24 could be translated as, future karmic childhood, let the resurrected Lazarus now living in childhood happiness be a part of my Karmic future childhood immediately! As an atonement for how I left Lazarus poor and abandoned.
In chapter 16:25 Abraham could be translated as, future lessons of childhood in a potential immediate future incarnation as a child while aware and suffering intensely in a disincarnate spiritual plane.
Obviously Abraham is a much easier term that says a lot.
The Rich Man and Lazarus
19 “There was a rich man who was dressed in purple and fine linen and lived in luxury every day. 20 At his gate was laid a beggar named Lazarus, covered with sores 21 and longing to eat what fell from the rich man’s table. Even the dogs came and licked his sores.
22 “The time came when the beggar died and the angels carried him to Abraham’s side. The rich man also died and was buried. 23 In Hades, where he was in torment, he looked up and saw Abraham far away, with Lazarus by his side. 24 So he called to him, ‘Father Abraham, have pity on me and send Lazarus to dip the tip of his finger in water and cool my tongue, because I am in agony in this fire.’
25 “But Abraham replied, ‘Son, remember that in your lifetime you received your good things, while Lazarus received bad things, but now he is comforted here and you are in agony. 26 And besides all this, between us and you a great chasm has been set in place, so that those who want to go from here to you cannot, nor can anyone cross over from there to us.’
27 “He answered, ‘Then I beg you, father, send Lazarus to my family, 28 for I have five brothers. Let him warn them, so that they will not also come to this place of torment.’
29 “Abraham replied, ‘They have Moses and the Prophets; let them listen to them.’
30 “‘No, father Abraham,’ he said, ‘but if someone from the dead goes to them, they will repent.’
31 “He said to him, ‘If they do not listen to Moses and the Prophets, they will not be convinced even if someone rises from the dead.’”
Having mentioned all of the aforementioned, let me note on my American football story that Tiler needs shoulder pads (white linen) to play, under his fine purple dress. And let's consider ways to Abraham in Class of 1984, having your arm severed with a bandsaw. And let's consider the spectacular site and sight, of the Silver Streak terminating at the train station:
https://youtu.be/5qPAOarQxaU
It's really pretty amazing isn't it. James Cameron style special effects pre CGI and not even ex Amtrak boss Joe Biden and Pete Buttigieg can stop it.
Let's take a look at the Denzel Washington train movie since we're with unstoppable trains. Actually we won't do that because it's a stupid movie. So we'll watch the dad from Family Guy instead. And the Silver Streak terminates in Chicago by the way.
Family Guy dad... A different insight into 'Abraham'....
Peter meets his dad ...
https://youtu.be/0DqgWCSn8lI
It'd be funny if they had an episode where Joe Biden is Pete Buttigieg's father.
Maybe the rich man wanted Lazarus to be his father in the future life, as a mercy. Maybe that's what he meant by father Abraham.
