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Solving the Social Problem

The Social Problem concerns Humanity's history of endless conflict, with primary focus on Millenarian Movements.

Jonathan Swift

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I aim to Solve what I call the Software Problem.

You might think that providing a world-wide and permanent solution to The Software Problem might be biting off a bit more than I can chew, but I am not only a life-long dedicated experimental scientist, in many important respects, I am far, far heavier into many forms of theoretical science, and thus a far more insightful theoretician than I could ever hope to be an experimentalist.

My investigation into The Software Problem commenced at the age of but three years old, when I began puzzling over the strange phenemonon that grownups never listened to the least little thing that us little boys and girls ever said, despite that it was plainly apparent to all of us little kids that we were just as insightful as any grownup was.

When I studied some basic cellular biology around third or fourth grade, I came across the theoretical insight that the claim I made at the age of three was, in fact, completely correct, and applied not only to all human toddlers, not only to all tiny young mammals once they develop enough that they begin to explore their surroundings under their own power, but in reality, was completely correct about all but a very, very few members of the entire Animal Kingdom!

One of the most important biological structures that distinguish all but a very few of the most incredibly primitive animals is that animals have incredibly long and incredibly narrow cells called Neurons that have the ability to transmit any desired manner of information along their considerable length.

When the signal finally reaches the very end of the Neuron, a purely chemical communication is used to relay the signal to the next neuron down the line across and incredibly tiny gap known as the Neural Synapse.

The cell on the transmitting side of the Neural synapse grows large numbers of incredbly fine fibers in the general direction of the recipient neuron, while the part of the recipient Neuron that adjuts the Neural Synapse is rather broad and wide.

The transmitting Neuron squirts out a tiny quantity of a chemical known as a Neurotransmitter from the very tips of those fine fibers, where they immediately dissolve in the mildly saline water that fills the gap between the two cells.

There are many, many different varieties of Neurons, each of which serve a certain specific communicative purpose. Most people think that the three most important to humans are Serotonin, whose abundance makes us sleep soundly, whose scarcity makes us awake and alert, with chronic scarcity resulting in profound, chronic depressesion, the complete lack of which results in the human doing everything in their power to take their own lives so they can stop their incredible suffering.

Clinical Depression has quite tragically been the most common mental illness throughout humanity's entire existence, and is quite common among other species with significant mental or emotional faculties as well.

My incredibly beautiful, cottonball white, lovingly affectionate and loyal cat Pishi - Persian (Farsi) for "Cute Cat" or "Kitty" - who lived with me from not long after she was weaned from her mother until a small skin cancer in the side of her head managed to penetrate her skull, giving her terminal brain cancer with her death coming just a couple months before her nineteenth birthday...

Pishi was just as happy, friendly, joyous and playful as her similarly cottonball-white brother Thunderball when I first met them playing in the front yard of the house where their mother's human lived, but by the time they grew old enough that I could adopt them and take them both back home with me to my room in Caltech's Ricketts House, for no apparent reason while Thunderball was just as happy, friendly joyful and playful, Pishi was not the least bit playful anymore and while gentle and affectionate with me and most other humans who had much insight into any manner of feline, painfully withdrawn, quiet, fearful and anxious.

I knew almost instantly that this must be Feline Clinical Depression and struggled desperately throughout Pishi's entire life to use every last tiny bit of the considerable insight I have into every manner of feline - not just housecats, but viciously violent, and, in one particular case, the incredibly giant and incredibly dangerous, incredibly rare Black Leopard of the Central American Jungle, that is spotted just like the orange, yellow and white African Leopard, but whose spots are rings of hair whose surfaces are rough and so quite dull and quite unreflective, with the rest of his fur being quite shiny...

... to desperately struggle to treat Pishi's incredible unhappiness the very same way that my own Clinical Psychotherapist - "Talk Therapists" - as well as Psychiatrists, who hold M.D. degrees and so are licensed to prescribe medicine and, when I have been admitted to a a psychiatric inpatient unit, an incredibly specialized, incredibly highly trained form of Hospital Nurse known as a Psychiatric Nurse, to find some way or at least treat Pishi's deep suffering and her almost paralyzing anxiety.

While I made considerable progress during our first few months together, progress slowly ground to a halt with her complete disinterest in playing with anything other than the occasional mouse that she'd discover, snatch up, bring home inside my house, cheerfully walk up to my feet, then drop the poor thing in front of me than look up at my face with great joy, with most of those mice not dead but dying very slowly and in incredible agony, but in one case, completely uninjured with the result that I chaced the wildly panicked poor little tyke all over my entire house in my effort to ensure its survival by getting it back outside my house and slamming the door shut before Pishi could hunt it down yet again...

With the inevitable result being that when Pishi discovered that I wasn't particularly pleased that she'd brought home such fine, tasty, fresh raw bacon, her face would drop with great disappointment, then she'd sit their looking quite puzzled for a minute or two, then after that she'd wander off to find some quiet, place to sit for a few hours with an icredibly angry expression on her face, which is just as adorable to human cat lovers as deep angry frowns on the faces of human toddlers are to human adults...

So Pishi could puzzle over a Software Problem of her own:

Eventually she'd relax and while she hardly ever looked particularly happy throughout the vast majority of her life, by the time my progress at treating her anxiety and depression asymptotically approached Nil, Pishi just about always looked quite calm and quite satisfied, as she wandered off towards her food or water bowls or perhaps her litterbox.

I watched this same hours-long process repeat itself the exact same way every last time Pishi would present me with a mouse she'd caught for me, so I would sit on the other side of the room from her so I could watch her carefully and quietly from across the room so I could both deepen and broaden the considerable insight into feline psychology that was the result of the fact that both of my father was, and my mother, her identical twin sister and my own older sister are cat lovers as well:

I was given my very first kitten, a male, long hair grey tabby by the name of Tiger, when I myself was but a tiny little infant. My first conscious memories of Tiger begin early in my third year of life. By that time, Tiger was not only full-grown, but three years old as well.

It was plainly apparent to me from the very instant her face dropped when I refused her mouse what was going on other than what made her, after sitting completely motionless for three or four solid hours, suddenly look completely calm and satisfied, then forget almost instantly about what could have been wrong with that mouse she presented me with, or what she herself could possibly have done so incredibly wrong...

She finally developed some insight into what the problem was, and decided that the chances were pretty good that she'd get it right the next time she managed to spot her next mouse.

Fortunately for me and every rodent species that have ever existed that other than when I lived in Caltech's South Campus Rickets house, I never lived anywhere where we had a rodent problem anywhere inside the house.

One is never allowed to keep cats in a college dorm room, but because Caltech's rather exquistely beautiful Old Student Houses on the South Side of the Olive Walk - with REAL OLIVE TREES! - that runs down the center of the East End of the Institute Campus - the Caltech administrative authorities actually encourage cat ownership throughout not only the old, quite cheaply and quite primitively constructed Old Houses - Ricketts, where I not resided but was a Member, as well as Blacker, Dabney and Fleming, but as well the 1960s-era modern North Houses - Page, Lloyd and Ruddock...

Their only requirement was that you get your cat spayed or neutered at the very first opportunity, lest the incredibly beautiful Caltech campus almost instantly be overcome with the very worst kind of plague to imperil not merely cats but dogs as well since they came to live with humans:

Vast quantities of unwanted kitten and puppies.

Humans too: unwanted babies.

Domestic cats and dogs can bear as many as six or eight kittens or puppies in each litter. Their mother becomes fertile soon after weaning her litter and so goes into heat yet again.

The vast majority of human males are completely appalled at what they discover when they finally work up the nerve to reach slowly and carefully down the front of a young lady's pants, as well as the required insight into the Vital Arts of Courtship that obtain her generally hesitant, often quite panicked but otherwise complete consent:

The vaginas of not just human woman but all mammalian females are quite smooth, soft, and lubricated internally throughout with a moderately viscous liquid.

The interior of a woman's vagina is not only so delicate and easily injurable, but also quite abundand with the tips of the long neurons that run all the way from her vagina to the sense of touch center in her brain, that just about the worst thing any man could ever hope to do when making love to his woman is to enter her without devoting a good, long time to foreplay that stars with a merely affectionate hug, a peck or two on the check, one or two planted right on the lips, dwelling for a while on the lips a few times, kissing her all over her entire face and neck, kissing her on the breasts through her shirt, gently cupping one of her breast through her shirt with his hand, kissing her all over again from their lower neck back up to her entire face while gentle and slowly beginning to move one's hand over her cupped breast just a bit, eventually kissing madly, passionately and completely continuously on her lips, touch just the outside of her lips here and there with just the tip of one's tongue while slowly and carefully reaching either down the neck of her shirt of up from its waist to again quietly cup one or the other breast, while under her shirt, still outside of her bra, slowly and gentle moving one's hand over the cupped breast, from time to time slowly and carefully moving one's hand from one's breast to the other, pressing one's lips quite hard against her own then slowly and carefully opening one's mouth so as to open hers as well, some time spent madly and passionately kissing her wide open lips, from time to time reaching the tips of one's tongue in to touch her teeth a bit, then rather than cupping her entire breast, press just two or three fingers over one her nipples, slowly and gently move those to or three fingertips

Throughout the Muslim world, it is considered the most foul form of violent felony for a woman to allow herself to be raped.

If a Muslim woman is raped, she is considered the attacker, not the man who did this to her.

That's because she surely must have enticed him and lead him on to the point that he was driven mad with lust, and so was forced to abandon the quite crucial importance that Muslims place on maintaining one's virginity until one's wedding night, and then after one is married, completely faithful to one's wives - "wives" plural, as harems are to this very day found here and there throughout much of the Muslim world - as well as to one's sole husband.

Thus the rape victim has shamed her whole entire extended family in the worst kind of way.

A male family member, most commonly the rape victim's older brother, will take personal responsibility to set things right by committing what is known in English as an "Honor Killing".

It is for that specific reason that while I was quite madly in love with a rapturously beautiful Iranian Muslim woman - if you think Latin Lovers are strangely fascinating, even Aztec Princesses cannot hold a fucking candle to the Persian Pishis - and that I am dead certain that she, if not actually returning my affection, sure as Hell appreciated all of my attentions, yet for all the years we knew each other, I never once came any closer than three feet from her. Despite my desperate longing for but the fleetest touch of her outstretched fingertip, as far as anyone else could tell, neither of ever evinced anymore than the most casual, chatty friendship, four to six hours most days of the week for - I don't want to be too specific mind you - a number of years.

The very finest way to Make Love to ANY woman, my nerd virgin friends, is not to Plunge Your Hot Throbbing Rivet into her - in the words of one fictional Engineer from an old paperback I'll eventually turn up - "Cylinder Holder" - but to give to her, freely and without any expectation of recompense, your Attention.

I will happily take a bullet for Damn near any Damn Fool, but I'm not the sort of Homewrecker to get the Object of my Heart's Desire murdered by her own brother for cheating on her husband.

The Art of Courtly Love was invented for a specific reason, Ladies and Germs. When one is such a Master of the Craft as I, one can lose pounds and inches while at the same time increasing one's "Good Cholesterol" while simultaneously decreasing one's "Bad Cholesterol" through no other means than hanging out all day at Chick-Fil-A without ordering a damn thing other than unsweetened iced tea while at the same time charming the Mother Fucking Socks off of everyone in sight.

The Second Amendment of the Constitution of the United States of America makes no mention whatsoever of responsible gun ownership - it doesn't mention "guns" at all, rather "arms" - nor does it mention Mental Illness, nor does it specify any manner of limitation on the destructive potential of one's permitted armament. And in fact it was at one time not merely common, but vitally necessary for merchant marine vessels to carry a few cannon.

It is for that reason that despite my readily admitting to suffering a profoundly delusional, paranoid and quite vividly hallucinatory Neurotic Mental Disorder, I frequently assert that, as an Experimental Radiation Physicist I have the required expertise and experience to possess Nuclear Weapons, even the Doomsday Device known as the Cobalt Bomb, which while innacurately depicted in the very last of the Planet of the Apes motion pictures, is not only quite feasible, but not at all hard to make.

Inexpensive even, if you're an Experienced, Expert Radiation Physicist.

It is for that reason that, despite my best efforts to remain in hiding and completely unobserved, Damn near every day I find myself in an up-close and personal chat with some manner of Law Enforcement Officer:

"Keep Up The Good Work, Jon."

"I Shall Endeavour To Persevere, Sir."

"Napoleon was just a young man in his early twenties when he was commanding armies in the field," once said my ex-wife Frances Bonita Hatcher.

Ninteteenth Century Art History largely centers on the cultural driving forces behing the Napoleonic Wars, commencing with the not merely idle, but oversexed rich in the late Eighteenth Century, typified by a Lovely Young Thing being pushed on a tree swing by her husband, while at the same time kicking off one of her shoes and so thereby flashing a good view up inside her dress to her lover who hides in the bushes just in front of her, to Napoleon's polite request to march on Portugal through Spain then deciding, oh, what the Hell, I'll conquer Spain as well, as typified by a gruesome monster munching on a human corpse as if it were a Snickers Bar, as well as a Campesino wearing a plain white cotton pants, shirt, bare feet and a blindfold as he faces a French Imperial Firing Squad, to the Commune de Paris, not so much history's first Communist Nation - the Inca Empire had that beat by centuries - but the first Marxist City-State, who devoted so very much time, effort and joyous endeavour to knocking over monuments throughout the City, while at the same time furiously yet ever so enlightenedly debating 24/7 for several solid weeks vast numbers of well-meant, well-intentioned laws, voting dozens or even hundreds of laws every single day, without ever giving the slightest thought to Their Own Fucking Self-Defense, with the end result that thirty thousand Communards - such as I am now proud to call myself - were savagely murdered when Paris was retaken, without even the common decency of burying them with their own clothes on, but naked, with but a quick photograph of standing-erect coffins bearing nude, dead bodies for their final epitaph, this being rightly considered the single worst and most foul Human Rights Violation in all of French History, with the result being that to this very day, "Bloody Weeks" is officially suppressed throughout France, with the collossal graveyard where the mortal remains of thirty thousand Well-Intentioned Yet, Strictly Speaking, Hopelessly Naive Parisian Patriot lay for all of eternity in a vast graveyard to the North-East of Paris that few understand the true purpose of other than being where a Dope-Smoking, Acid-Eating, Cardiac-Arrestingly Fat Nineteen Sixties Hippy was laid to his graffitti-encrusted rest after dropping dead in a solid Onyx bathtub, and on to the Pointillism of the late nineteenth century, in which the secret meaning of a crowd gathered by the riverside is not the initial conception of Raster Scan Computer Graphics, but a thinly veiled commentary on the moral decay of the entire city - the woman with a pet monkey is a Prostitute, you see, with the opera fan who is quite clearly scoping, not the scene on stage below the balcony, but the scene directly opposite, on the other side of the opera house, scoping out Prostitutes in the plain sight of his wife who placidly enjoys the show they allegedly paid to attend, with the Nineteenth Century Art History formally drawing to a close with the initial buildup of the arms, international tensions and conspiracies that eventually led to The Shot Heard Round The World - that fired by a certain assassin - with the "Blank Check" having been already drafted by Germany to the Austro-Hungarian Empire: "Fill in the blanks, whatever your heart's desire, we shall Honor in Blood and Treasure," almost but not quite ending with The War to End All Wars:

Dulce et Decorum Est

Winfred Owens

Bent double, like old beggars under sacks,
Knock-Kneed, coughing like hags, we cursed through sludge
Till on the haunting flares we turned our backs
And towards our distant rest began to trudge,
Men marched asleep. Many had lost their boots
but limped on, blood-shod. All went lame; all blind;
Drunk with fatigue, deaf even to the hoots
Of tired, outstripped Five-Nines that dropped behind.
Gas! Gas! Quick, boys! - an ecstasy of fumbling,
Fitting the clumsy helmets just in time; But someone was still yelling out and stumbling,
And flound'ring like a man in fire or lime...
Dim, through the misty panes and thick green light,
As under a green sea, I saw him drowning,
In all my dreams, before my helpless sight,
He plunges at me, guttering, choking, drowning.
If in some smothering dreams you too could pace
Behin the wagon that we flung him in,
And watch the white eyes writhing in his face,
His hanging face, like a devil's sick of sin;
If you could hear, at every jolt, the blood
Come garglin from the froth-corrupted lungs,
Obscene as cancer, bitter as the cud
Of vile, incurable sores on innocent tongues,
My friend, you would not tell with such high zest
To children ardent for some desperate glory,
The old Lie; Dulce et Decorum est
Pro patria mori.

No It Fucking Isn't.

"But he was just a tiny little man! How could Napoleon have been a commanding general at such an early age?"

"He had a certain presence," Bonita quietly replied.

My friends, I am in hiding, despite that I Really Do Walk Among You.

My concern is not that one of you might take my own life.

My Burden of Sorrow is that were I but to slip up in but the least little insignificant way, I would lead you all to take each others' lives, and by doing so, I myself no am, in reality am possessed of a force far more destrustive than globally vapourized Cobalt-60, and so am readily capable - admittedly unwilling, yet not yet confident that my weapon will never discharge accidentally and so put Stalin, Hitler, Mao and Napolean completely to shame:

Most people thing the Muslims hate Americans because we support the Israelis. That's what most Muslims think as well, but only uneducated Muslims.

In reality, all Muslims regard not only themselves but all Jews and All Christians as well as "The People of the Book".

That's because all three faiths worship the God of Abraham.

While Muslim's refer to the God of Abraham as Allah, Christians as God, and Jews as YHWH - most commonly pronounced "Yahweh" but in reality considered completely unprouncable - all of those of all three faiths who have spent much time studing their Holy Books understand quite well that those are just three different names for the exact same Supreme Being.

Every last Muslim regards the Christian Holy Bible and the Jewish Torah with almost but not quite the same deep, contemplative reverance that they regard their own Q'uran.

Many Muslims own Arabic translations of both books and spend time studying them carefully.

Q'uran, Not Koran!

If you want to make peace with our Middle Eastern friends, you must learn how to spell Arabic words using the correct Latin Alphatic transliteration!

It is for that same reason that the capital of China was long misspelled and missprounced as Peking when the British Empire conquered most of China until the Chinese drove the British right back out during the Opium Wars, but only recently is correctly pronounced and spelled as Beijing through the entire English-speaking world!

Pakistan is an ancient culture and incredibly advanced culture that was once a province of India before Ghandi overthrew the British colonial rule.

While the vast majority of Pakistanis live in desperate poverty, lots of Pakistanis are well educated, live in comfortable homes and drive luxury automobiles.

As a result of the mixed legal traditions of the Islamic Sharia Law and the British laws introduced during Colonial rule, Pakistan is steeped in a rich, legal tradition.

All Pakistani attorneys wear formal black business suits during their entire workday, not just when arguing a case before a judge.

Many different languages are found throughout Pakistan, with many Pakistanis learning how to speak more than one. But because Pakistan's legal tradition is primarily based on the British one, all Pakistani legal hearings are spoken, and legal documents are written in English that, while strongly accented, is just as fluent as the English spoken by any American.

While Pakistan is a nominally democratic country, for quite some time it was a military dictatorship as a result of an ambitious general who got himself installed as President. I'm not sure how he did that, but in my understanding, it was a bloodless coup.

This general's ambition to rule Pakistan for life eventually resulted in one of the most incredibly bizarre and completely effective acts of largely bloodless and completely non-violent acts of rebellion in all of human history:

The Pakistani Constitution places a strict limit on how long a President may hold power.

As the generals expiration date fast approached, he began flooding the Pakistani Parliament with sympathetic colleagues who would happily amend the Pakistani Constitution to allow him to hold office for the rest of his life.

While this gentleman was for the most part a rather benevolent dictator, the Chief Justice of the Pakistani Supreme Court didn't have a lot of regard for this little stunt, and so initiated all manner of legal proceedings to put a stop to the generals little plan.

The general knew that there was no possible way he would ever get away with it. Thus he decided to take matters into his own hands:

He arrested the Chief Justice, threw him in prison, and had the Supreme Court building entirely surrounded by heavily armed men.

Almost instantaneously, huge angry riots broke out throughout the entire nation of Pakistan in any city of any real size. While the rioters were angry, and would flood all of the busiest downtown city streets so they could put a complete stop to the entire city's economy twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week.

Every last one of these rioters wore proper black business suits to the riots, because they were all among the most dedicated, deeply insightful and highly educated legal professionals who have ever walked the face of the Planet Earth!

The general had the idea he could put down the rioters, but the attorneys knew better, because every last Pakistani understands just as well as any Indian does how both Pakistan and India won their indepence from the British, who were savagely violent in their effort to put down the Indian rebellion, and had no problem at all with committing such such crimes against humanity as driving an armored vehicle riot up to a huge, loud, angry but completely non-violent protest then mowing down every last one of those peaceful, innocent people with the armored vehicle's powerful and incredibly high-speed machine gun.

Every Indian and Pakistani with any real insight into how this was achieved also understands that these same method was employed to win not only Southern Black Americans but the Hispanic people of California's Monterey county the right to vote, the right to ride in the front of any bus, to dine in the very same same fine establishments that white people do, to use the same public restrooms as well as to drink from the same water fountains.


The violently psychopathic ways that the British Empire tried to put down the completely peaceful, non-violent protests that Mohandas K. Ghandi led in India eventually drew the attention of people throughout the entire world, most importantly, the largely peaceful and completely non-violent citizens of the entire global British Empire.

This process accellerated every time the British did anything at all harmful to the Indians in much the same way that a tiny snowball rolling down a slope within the space of just a few minutes grows to an incredibly power, incredibly deadly and incredibly violent avalanche!

A huge public outcry arose throughout the entire British Empire, desperately urging the King to grant Mohandas K. Ghandi's completely reasonable request.

I don't have a clue why he actually did grant that request, but the chances are pretty good that he knew that if he didn't do so, that the entire British Empire would become completely ungovernable, and might actually result in a coup that would remove him from power, maybe even get him murdered.

Most know him as Mahatma Ghandi. Mohandas Ghandi was quite delighted to be informed one day that almost overnight, every last citizen of the entire nation of India started referring to him as Mahatma instead.

A Mahatma is some manner of Hindu Holy Man, most likely a Brahmin, the High Priests of the Hindu faith.

The Reverend Doctor Martin Luther King Junior was an African American Baptist Minister. He's properly know as "The Reverend Doctor" and not just "The Reverend" as he held a Doctoral degree, I expect in Divinity.

While appalling numbers of African Americans drop out of school so early that they never even learn how to read, all of the African Americans throughout the entire South have placed an incredibly high value on the most advanced forms of higher educaation, with the result that African American Universities were established all over the entire Southern United States.

The entire South was once rich, fertile, and abundant with every manner of agriculture, not just cotton.

While it has been known since ancient times that the best way to keep your farmland fertile was to collect up your agricultural waste, mix it with livestock manure as well as livestock urine - German farmers have no problem collecting their cow urine and in the colorful German language refer to it as "Jauche" - compost it, then spread it back over your land at the beginning of each planting season....

... because of the development of automated thread spinning machines, cloth-weaving looms and industrial sewing machines, since long, long before the Civil War ever broke out, the entire Southern United States' economy was devoted to the production of the cotton that was required to produce much of the entire Western hemisphere's clothing.

There was just too much farmland devoted to cotton production to have any hope whatsoever to keeping it fertile by going to all the labor and effort required to spread composted manure all over it. There was also no hope of producing enough feed for the required livestock.

Thus much of the entire Southern United States' once abundantly productive farmland was completely sterile by the time the North won the Civil War.

While the freed slaves were quite good at farming, and rather enjoyed the work itself when their owners and masters were reasonably human to them, so little fertile land remained by that time that the freed slaves had no hope whatsoever of providing for themselves.

African American Biologist George Washington Carver looked into this problem in a very careful contemplative way in his laboratory at one of those Black Universities.

Plants require only Carbon, Oxygen, Nitrogen, Phosphorous, Potassium, Water and Sunlight to grow, as well as tiny trace quantities of some of the other chemical elements.

The Carbon and Oxygen are absorbed from the air as Carbon Dioxide, with Sunlight used to drive the process of Photosynthesis being used to separate the Carbon and Oxygen, with all the Carbon and a small portion of the Oxygen being retained, with the rest of the Oxgen released back into the air.

It is the green Chlorophyl coumpound that accomplishes this that makes plant leaves green.

All the other elements are absorbed through the plants roots by drawing in water from the ground. Most chemical salts are readily soluble in water, so the other compounds are for the most part absorbed in salt form.

Nitrogen is required in the largest quantity, as it forms the bulk of the plant's protein. Thus all the cotton production had absorbed all the Nitrogen from all of the South's soil.

How to put it back?

There are certain rare plants that absorb their Nitrogen from the air rather than from the ground, a process known as Nitrogen Fixation. If such a plant could be identified that would be an economically valuable product, its waste could be left to rot on the ground after the edible part of the plant was harvested, thereby replenishing the Nitrogen in the soil.

Carver set out to identify such plants already growing wild in the South, eventually turning up the peanut.

While it is called the peanut as well as the ground nut, it is not properly a nut at all but a seed, as what looks like a nut grows underground and has to be harvested by digging it up.

Carvers first problem was that peanuts are toxic to humans. If you eat many peanuts you will be sickened. If you eat them on a regular basis despite feeling so sick, you will eventually die of poisoning.

It didn't take long for Carver to discover that roasting peanuts in a really hot oven broke the toxin down entirely, and that the roasting process also drove all the water out of the peanut, thereby transforming the normally soft fresh peanut into the same pleasingly crunchy mouth feel that regular tree nuts have.

Yes, "mouth feel". That's what is known as a Term of Art, in this case a Term of Art of the food manufacturing industry. If you've ever wondered why lots of stuff you eat contains an ingredient with the rather cryptically bizarre name of Xanthan Gum, it's because putting just a little bit of Xanthan Gum into certain kinds of foods gives them a quite pleasingly chewy mouth feel!

Peanuts have to be removed from their shells before being eaten, which is rather tedious to do by hand, and eating roasted peanuts, while a tasty snack, for most people is only good as a snack and not a proper meal.

What to do? What to do. Hmm.

Peanuts contain a lot of vegetable oil. What would happen if I ground the roasted peanuts down to a suspension of fine peanut powder in peanut oil?


I've been eating a Mother Fucking Peanut Butter and Jelly Sandwich damn near every day since I was old enough and responsible enough to chew my own food.

Peanut Butter and Jelly Sandwhiches are incredibly tasty, incredibly inexpensive, incredibly nutritious and incredibly easy to make.

Whithin just a few years, the entire Southern United States was transformed back into its original abundant fertility by alternating peanuts with cotton each year, a process known as Crop Rotation.

The peanuts provided a cheap, easy to grow and tasty way for the farmers to grow much of their own food, as peanuts are rich in protein, peanut oil that provides not just lots of energy but the lipids we require to build cell walls as well, and lots of vitamins.

Not long after that, a horrible famine broke out in Africa as a result of a years-long drought. Carver knew what he could feed adult Africans with peanut butter, but how to feed African children who are too young to chew food?

He eventually discovered that using a powerful high speed blender to mix peanut butter with water suspended not only the peanut dust but also microscopically small droplets of the peanut oil in the water.

While not very tasty at all and so almost forgotten to history, Peanut Milk is every bit as nutritious as Peanut Butter is.

The only kinds of tastes small children really object to are really strong tastes. Because Peanut Milk is quite mild in taste, the African parents never had any trouble convince their children to drink Peanut Milk.

Let's get back to Civil Disobedience, shall we?

My point in taking this detour through the Deep South was to explain the deep reverence that African American Southerners hold for a proper education. The problem with staying in school found among so many Black youth occurs primary in big cities outside the South.

Not just Dr. King, but all of the Baptist Ministers as well as many of their flocks corresponded as well as gathered together in person on a regular basis to puzzle over the problem of how to win back the right to vote they held for quite same time after the war ended.

Not only could freed slaves vote just as freely as any White Southerner could, because there were so many Africa Americans in the Southern United States, before the Whites engineered all manner of clever schemes designed to make it impossible for Blacks even to register to vote, many African Americans held high public office. If memory serves me, some even served in the United States Senate and House of Represantatives!

Not just Baptist Ministers, but every manner of preacher other than self-educated street preachers requires a University Degree before he can be ordained. Many obtain graduate degrees as well, the highest form of which is the Doctorate of Divinity.

All manner of important Liberal Arts are taught during such a Religious Education. Among them is History.

In considering how other cultures and nations had thrown off their oppressors, it was not long at all before the Southern Baptists stumbled across the non-violent protest pioneered by Mohandas K. Ghandi.

Decades of desperate struggle were required before the Southern Blacks won the enthusiastic passage of the Voting Rights Act by all of the few members of the United States Congress.

Thousands upon thousands of blacks spent a lot of time in the slammer for no other reason than being too uppity.

This happened on more than a few occassions to the good Reverend Doctor himself, with one of his most important written works during the entire Civil Rights movement being his famous Letter from Birmingham City Jail.

King wrote it by hand on some pieces of paper that he begged from the jailer. It was his openly published written response to a group of white ministers who raised the completely reasonable objection that it was wrong for African Americans to violate the law during their non-violent protests, for example but shutting down entire cities for the day by swarming all over the city streets.

I've read that letter quite a number of times. It's archived at the Nobel Prize web site dedicated to Doctor King after he was awarded the Peace Prize, as well as many other web sites.

A while back I bought several collections of King's essays, speeches and sermons, as well as some audio recordings of his more historically important speeches and church sermons. One of these books contains his Birmingham letter.

I bought all those books to use for literature research into how I myself could wipe out the scourge of all forms of stigma - not just the horrible hatred of mentally ill people such as myself, but all forms of hatred of other people just for being who they are.

I knew it was important to study the sociology, psychology and history of such hatred both from the point of view of those who oppose it and those who promote it.

I decided to go straight to the source!

I found an excellent and quite inexpensive World War II-era Englisht ranslation of Adolf Hitler's Mein Kampf in the very first bookstore where I turned up to look for it, Borders if memory serves me.

Mein Kampf is German for "My Struggle", but Hitler wasn't the only German who wanted to drive every last Jew from all of the German-speaking regions of Europe. He really meant "Our Struggle", but wrote the book from the same point of view as the New Testament would have been written had it been written by the Messiah - Jesus Christ - that the Torah makes crystal-clear would come someday to restore the Temple of Jerusalam.

Only Christians believe Jesus is the Messiah.

Most Jews these days aren't particularly religous but are quite diligent about practicing religious rituals from attending their synagogue, getting their newborn boys circumsized by a Rabbi at the age of eight days in every Jewish man's first Rite of Passage, a ceremony known as a Bris.

Right around the time they begin to enter puberty, Jewish Boys and Jewish girls begin learning to read and speak enough Hebrew so they choose a particular Torah passage to study during the classes they attend so they can prepare for their the boys Bar Mitvah as well as the girl's Bat Mitzvah.

They stand at the podium normally used by the Rabbi used to deliver his sermonds on the Sabbath.

The Torahs that most synagogues use are required to be written entirely by hand by carefully trained scribes using not paper but parchment which must come from one certain specific parchment factory in Israel.

Thus those Torahs are not only incredibly expensive but regarded with incredible reverence by not only the Rabbi, but every last member of the Synagogue.

If you pass your fingertip across a book's page so you can keep track of the line you're reading from, the paper will absorb a tiny quantity of your skin oil. Do this often enough and repeat over a long enough period of time, and enough oil will be absorbed to totally destroy the paper!

Thus every Bar Mitzvah and Bat Mitzvah student learns to use narrow piece of wood about five inches long to keep track of their place in the Torah instead.

They hold this stick right it one tip, with the other being brushed with the very lightest possible force across the Torah's parchment. One requires quite a lot of patient diligent practice to do this quickly and accurately enough that one can read out loud while passing the stick back and forth across each each line as quickly as you are reading it.

At a Bar Mitzah or a Bat Mitzah, the boy or girl uses this stick to read the same passage they studied during their preparatory classwork the friends and loved ones gathered to celebrate this incredibly important event, first in the original Hebrew then translated into their into their native tongue.

I know all about how this works because, while I am not Jewish myself, I have always had lots of closes friends who were Jews, with the longest romantic relationship I ever had being with an incredibly intelligent incredibly beautiful, incredibly talented Jewish guitarist who I met she and I both worked over the Summer of 1986 at Sapiens Software of Santa Cruz, where we were all working on a rather forward-thinking but incredibly algorithmically complex LISP interpreter whose two founders hope to use to capitalize on the sudden interest in commerce applications such as the expert systems that are used to computerize the process of using huge dynamite blasts as well as seismographics to search for new oil deposits.

She was a brilliant computer scientist and hard-working software engineer and could have become quite wealthy had she taken up work in The Valley.

But her only real interest in Computer Science was her fascination with the Mathematics behind it. She regarded all forms of actually computer programming as incredibly tedious and boring.

Thus she dropped out of UC Santa Cruz where she instead lived in desperate poverty working as a self-employed massage therapist instead. She owned a used pickup truck with a shell that she used to tote her massage table to her gigs.

She rather enjoyed the work despite the fact that it was absolutely everything she could possibly do to get enough work to avoid starvation and homelessness.

While a one hour massage would earn her forty or fifty dollars, the entire Northern End of Santa Cruz was absolutely rotten with really good self-employed massage therapists, with several fine establishments in the area that employing full-time therapists. Among my happiest memories of my otherwise bitterly disappointing five-year relationships is that she would offer me such and expertly executed message on a regular basis, completely free of charge!

My years-long friendship with a Jewish man and woman who were lovers for quite some time eventually resulted in my being completely dumbfounded at finding in my mailbox, a neatly hand-written invitation to that woman's son's Bar Mitzvah!

"What kind of gift do I bring?"

"Money." my friend casually replied.

You might think that's an example of the Jewish reputation for being incredibly greedy, but that's not the case at all. Every last friend and loved one who attends a Bar Mitvah or a Bat Mitzvah is quite happy to give as much money as they possibly can.

This is the very first time in a Jewish Boy or Jewish Girl's entire life when they are ever permitted to handle any significant quantity of money completely on their own. What they do with this money is completely up to them!

He bought a rather nice and brand new bicycle.

I read a newspaper article once about a girl who had lots of incredibly wealthy friends and loved ones. Thus her Bat Mitvah gifts amounted to a small fortune!

She decided to use every last penny of it to feed starving people in the Third World!

I don't recall what comes after the Torah reading is finished. There are some other procedures.

If it's a Bar Mitvah so that a boy is at the podium, at the very end of the ceremony, the Rabbi carefully drapes a white cotton rectangular shroud with a blue band running all around the edge.

My understanding is that the very instant that the Rabbi finishes placing that shroud upon the boy's shoulder, YHWH Himself instantaneously transforms that Jewish Boy into a Jewish Man!

A bin containing such shrouds is kept by the entrance to the Synagogue's worship hall, so that all the man can drap their own shoulders with them during the services.

Jewish girls don't get the shroud. I've never been to a Bat Mitvah so I don't know what actually takes places at the end, but I expect that the Rabbi performs some other Rite of Passage at which point YHWH Himself instantaneously transforms the Jewish Girl into at Jewish woman as well.

I Decided To Go Straight To The Stigma Source. Let's Go Back To The Stigma Source.

I was rather embarrassed to be caught purchasing such and appallingly Anti-Semitic and racist book, so even before I handed the book to the cashier when I paid for it, I burst out in explanation as to why I wanted to read it.

I now keep just Mein Kampf turned backwards on my bookshelf, with the title on the spine on the inner side and the edges of the pages on the visible side of the shelf, lest some visitor to my home spot the author and title before I have a chance to explain why I own it.

Some of Adolf Hitler's most ardently dedicated, deeply faithful, diligent and incredibly wealthy supporters in his effort to drive not just every last Jew, but every last Black, Gypsy and Mentally Ill person from every German-speaking region of Europe weren't just his fellow Germans, and those from his homeland of Austria.



Most important and most wealthy was the powerful American industrialist Henry Ford, who was just your average blue-collar machinist when he heard about the invention of the automobile in Europe, then decided to see whether he could much such an automobile himself, with the eventual result that the very first night for a drive in the cool fresh air being that taken by Ford when he got his very first car working and drove it right out onto the streets of the city where he lived!

All that same kind of Anti-Semitism, Racism and hatred of the Gypsies and Mentally Ill have been found throughout the vast majority of the entire planet Earth right up until advancing allied troops stumbled across the previously Top Secret Jewish Concentration camps towards the end of the war.

I don't think Ford and Hitler ever met in person, but I do know that they corresponded on a regular basis, and that Hitler regarded Ford as among the most important supporters in his effort to establish what he originally described in quite a detailed and theoritical way in Mein Kampf as The Racial State.

Ford was devoting a large portion of his considerable wealth to drive every last Jewish person out of the entire Continent of North American since long before a young, homeless unemployed World War I veteran started hanging out in a certain Munich Beer Hall, only to discover that the drinkers would while away the evening with their friends by standing up and taking turns at making people speeches to the other people in the beer hall.

Adolf Hitler was always incredibly shy and fearful of other people as a result of the incredibly savage beatings he received at the hands of his viciously sadistic father from damn near every single day starting he was just a little toddler was born until his father finally passed away late in his teenage years.

Hitler not only never married, to the best of my knowledge, the only romantic relationship Hitler ever had in his entire life was that with Eva Braun. They conducted their entire relationship the way those men and women who are close friends do, not the way lovers do.

While no one has any way of ever knowing for sure, but the chances are pretty good that Adolf Hitler died a virgin!

Hitler managed to conquer all of Europe, most of North Africa half of the Soviet Union, lay waste to a good chunk of London and lots of other British cities, and take the lives of so many American military men despite the vast numbers with which they descended upon the Nazis after America declared war on Germany, not because he was so incredibly violent.


It was because he was so incredibly INTELLIGENT!.

One does not have to read more than his short, rather casually written introduction to Mein Kampf before that fact becomes plaintly apparent.

While Hitler never attended a University, he was rather well educated as well.

Austria was an incredibly vibrant, prosperous, and other than being appallingly Anti-Semitic, forward-thinking country by the time he was born.

The Austrian capital of Vienna was at one time the seat of the Austro-Hungarian Empire.

One of the more curious questions those with much knowledge of geography have when they watch the brilliant movie Sound of Music have, is that when the young nun played by Julie Andrews is offered a job looking after the children of a certain rather wealthy Austrian country gentlemen, he is described to her as a veteran of the Austrian Navy.

But isn't Austria a land-locked country? everyone asks themselves.

Indeed it is. It shares a border with Italy in the South, high in the Alpine Mountains, Switzerland to the East, Germany to the North, and I think what at the time was Czchechoslovakia to the East.

But not only did this fellow really serve Austria in its Navy, he was an officer! I'm pretty sure he commanded a ship!

You see, Austria is such a tiny little country now because it was the Austro-Hungarian Empire, not the Germans at all, that attacked everyone all over Europe after Archduke Ferdinand was assassinated in the famous Shot Heard Round the World that initiated the First World War.

Everyone thinks Germany started that War, but only because Germany, as the Austro-Hungarian Empire's incredibly supportive and long-time military ally, did most of the fighting of what, for them, was the Western Front - the famous anti-war novel All Quiet on the Western Front was written shortly after the war by a young German soldier.

We all think the Germans started the war because one or two hundred yards across No Man's Land from the Germand were the French, British, Dutch, Flemish and, a few years later, the Americans.

All that same incredibly cruel and murderous trench warfare was conducted by the Austro-Hungarian Empire on the Eastern Front, in which is now Eastern and South-Eastern Europe, against the British and the Australians.

One of the most horribly cruel, murderous and completely pointless to occur throughout the entire First World War happened when vast numbers of young Australian men enthusiastically volunteered to serve Australia's Head of State, the King of England, as well as all their people back home.

I learned when I was in high school that despite the fact that it is incredibly expensive to purchase a round trip airline ticket between Australia and England, ever since the remote British Prison Colony of Australia obtained the ability and permission to sail on its own back to England, the vast majority of Australian people have considered it just as important to return home - home being England, of course - and to spend some time there at least once during the lives, as every Muslim considers it incredibly important to make the Pilgrimage to Mecca at least once in their lives.

The way intelligence was passed up to the miltary command, and the way orders were passed down to the troops during every war from the days of Knights in Shining Armor right up until the trench warfare was invented, was to use a pair of brightly colored flags held in each hand that are rapidly moved in a very carefully controlled way through a certain specific series of positions.

This is known as Semaphore Signaling, with the flags being the Semaphores. Hardly any software engineers know anymore that one of the mutual exclusion devices used to maintain the consistency of shared data in multithreaded computer programs is named after these very same Semaphore flags.

Semaphore Signaling is taught to this very day to United States Navy Sailors during boot camp. Not only do radios break down sometimes, but the Semaphore graphic code is well-established and is an International language and thus works quite well when the sailors aboard ships from two different countries need to get together for a little chat over a cup of coffee.

By equipping some Semaphore operators with binoculars then spacing them far apart along and behind a battlefront, both intelligence and ordered can travel via relay across great distances quite quickly.

Before the invention of the optical telescope, you required instead for your Semaphore operator to have sharp eyesight.

For hundreds of years, incredibly huge, slowly operated Semaphores that closely resembled Dutch Windmills were employed to do the same kind of relay all over the continent of Europe.

But the only way you could hope to employ a Semaphore throughout the entire First World War was to either stand right out in the open no more than one or two hundred yards across No Man's Land from your enemy, or to dig those incredibly long trenches carefully and completely straight.

I learned when I read All Quiet on the Western Front that while the trenches were dug straight at first, it was not long at all before they re-dug every last trench in a zig-zag fashion along its entire length, with each Zig and each Zag being quite short.

Hand Grenades, you see. During the night, it was not hard at all for someone to slowly and carefully crawl all the way across No Man's Land, taking cover from time to time in a bomb crater, then toss a hand grenade from quite a short distance into his enemy's trench.

If the trenches were straight, the grenade's deadly shrapnel could travel quite a long distance along the trench, taking out dozens of your enemy.

What's worse, heavy artillery was employed throughout the war, with the result that soldiers almost always slept, took their meals as well as were granted the occasional reprieve from duty taking cover from the artillery in deep, underground bomb shelters.

Land a shell of any significant size in a straight trench, and you'd take out hundreds, if not thousands of men!

My maternal grandfather was a brilliant and dedicated surgeon who served as an officer in the United States Army Air Force Medical Corps throughout the Second World War.

I never knew my grandfather, as he died quiet suddenly at a tragically young age when my mother and her twin sister, my Aunt Peggy, where but eight years old.

Howard Swope, the maternal grandfather I knew, was my grandmother's second husband who my grandmother married shortly after my mother and aunt graduated from high school.

After Grandpa Swope passed on, Aunt Peggy flew up to Spokane, a large, vibrant and prosperous, modern, metropolitan city quite oddly way, way out in the middle of nowhere in the far North-East Washington State, to settle my grandparent's affairs.

Spokane is where it is as a direct result of the incredible wealth that resulted from vast quantities of all manner of valuable natural resources being found all over that entire region.

I found it quite puzzling that the United States Navy maintained a rather large Naval Reserve Officers Training Corps unit at the University of Idaho in Moscow, a tiny little college town even farther out in the middle of nowhere in the Northern Idaho Panhandle.

Moscow is so small and the University of Idaho campus is so large, that the entire town's population is cut in half in the space of but a few days when the students head home for the summer, then doubled just as quickly when they all return in fall.

The Navy sent my father there at incredible taxpayer expense for his Engineering Degree so he could learn how to work on Top-Secret Anti-Aircraft Missile Avionics.

I found it even more puzzling that when my father left the service a few years after the Vietnam War ended, he decided to avail himself of the incredibly generous G.I. Bill which provided American War veterans with a University education at taxpayer expense, so he could study for his Electrical Engineering Master's degree at the University of Idaho as well.

My father was an incredibly brilliant, hard-working and diligent student, with his Undergraduate Grade Point Average being 3.7 - not quite Straight-A, but A-Minus or so. Surely he could have gotten into Berkeley or maybe even Stanford?

I learned the first reason for the Navy's great interest in the University of Idaho when Dad decided to take the entire family out for a few days of camping during his Summer vacation:

One of the most vitally important Naval ports in the entire Free World throughout the entire Cold War was right on the rather small lake where we went camping! How could that possibly be?

It turns out that Lake Pend O'Reille in the far North Idaho panhandle not far from our border with Canada is the deepest lake in the entire United States that is entirely within the borders of the United States.

Lake Pend O'Reille is no more than a few miles across but it is three thousand feet deep and so a great place to test Top-Secret designs for submarine hulls and carefully designed and just as much Top Secret designs for very, very quiet submarine propellers.

Most people think submarine hulls black all over so they won't be seen when they come to the surface during the night. That's not quite right.

Light doesn't penetrate very far at all into seawater. Only the portion of the hull that appears above the waterline is painted black.

I was completely dumbfounded at what I witnessed when my father, after graduating from the U of I, invited me to come with him to the Mare Island Naval Shipyard in Vallejo, Engineer where he worked as a Civilian Naval Engineer, so I could have a look at a giant Minuteman Missile nuclear-powered submarine that was in drydock for maintenance.

Starting immediately below the jet-black above-water portion, running along most of the sub's hull from just behind the round front all the way to the stern, where alternating, quite broad white and bright red stripes!

Covering the hemispherical bow of the submarine - not hydrodynamically shaped to slice through the water like a surface vessel's bow, but and accurately machined and quite carefully welded hemisphere used to resist the incredible pressure found in the deepest depths of the oceans - was a deep blue field with a ring of large, five-pointed stars all around the edge!

I don't remember many stars were in that circle, but most likely there were thirteen.

Just like the Flag of the United States of America, you see.

Each stare found in the blue field represents a certain, specific State of the United. The thirteen British colonies who banded together to drive the King of England and all of his red-coated men from the New World became the first thirteen states of the Union.

Each time the United States Congress passes a law to admit a new state to the Union, it also passes a law that adds one single specific star to our flag's blue field, with original circle of stars being rearranged to a few rows and columns when there were to many to fit in a circle any more. The fifty stars of today's flag alternate between longer and shorter horizontal rows, with the stars in alternating rows being placed diagonally from each other, but sometimes they were in a perfectly square grid with the stars directly above and below each other.

I am quite certain that each specific star represents a certain specific state, but I've never found any manner of diagram that identified which ones they actually are.

I don't know when the Navy started getting their shipbuilders to give them that particular paint job, but by the time my Dad turned up at Mare Island, every United States Naval submarine was painted the exact same way!

There was just one part of the entire sub I could not see, as it was carefully covered with a thick, heavy black shroud first thing after the sub was fastened to its mount inside the drydock, before the seawater was pumped out to allow the maintenance crew to get at the hull from its outside.

NO ONE - not even the sailors who operate the sub themselves - are permitted to see that part of the submarine unless they have the proper clearance - most likely Top Secret, but there are lots of even higher clearances such as the Q Clearance required to do nuclear weapons design - are in the proper compartment, and just absolutely have to see that part of the submarine so they could get their job done.

One of the most incredibly successful acts of Espionage throughout the entire Cold War occurred a few years after the Americans somehow managed to clue in to the fact that the Soviets had developed some manner of highly absorbent coating that prevented their submarine hulls from reflecting the incredibly loud, incredibly brief, and highly ultrasonic sonar pings.

While the United States invented the Stealth Bomber so we could sneak right into the middle of the Mother Fucking Soviet Union and drop a Hydrogen Bomb right on top of their fat, hairy asses, then sneak right back out without the Commies ever being able to figure out how to do a damn thing about it...

... and we developed the Stealth Fighter as well, so we could shoot down all the Soviet Bombers before they could get anywhere near North America, Japan or Western Europe...

The Soviet Union put the entire Free World completely to shame by inventing the Stealth Submarine long before we ever figured out how to make Stealth Bombers and Fighters, but by building large structures that overhung Soviet Submaring docks so as the shield the parts of a sub found above the waterline from prying eyes, they did so without us ever figuring out that they had even done so!

No doubt it's some manner of dense foam, but Sonar waves are designed to travel in accurate straight lines through miles of seawater, reflect off a submarine hull, then travel back across the same great distance.

They are incredibly loud so they will be able to travel the required distance back and forth.

A wave phenomenon known as Diffraction causes originally long, straight waves to become curved then spread out in a fan-like shape whenever they pass through any gap that only allows a limited length of the wavefront to pass through.

This same Diffraction happens when you make any kind of sound by vibrating a material of any finite size.

The Diffraction effect grows with the wavelength. Thus low-frequency broad waves that are originally straight across spread out in a semicircular fashion after passing through a gap, whereas short, high-frequency waves remain straight but are now no longer then the width of the gap, with only small, subtle curves causing a little bit of ripple at either side of the advancing wavefront.

It is the incredibly high audio frequency of the Sonar that enables it to travel such a great distances back and force across a quite narrow and perfectly straight line.

It is very, very difficult to absorb both loud and high-frequency sounds.

Western audio, mechanical and chemical engineers spent quite some time puzzling over what this Stealth Submarine could possibly be made of, but never obtained so much as their first clue.

The part of a Submarine no one ever gets to look at unless they really have to is the Submarine's propeller.

The propellers used for Submarines are carefully designed through the use of all manner of advance theoretical and experimental research into fluid mechanics, hydrodynamics and acoustics so that if you're in a real hurry to get somewhere, either to flee from an attacking sub, or to make a close-up massively violent suprise attack on your enemy, you can spin your sub's propeller at an incredible rate without it making the least bit of noise that might betray your position.

When you spin conventional propellors too fast, a Phenomenon known as Cavitation results from the inertia of the seater's mass being unable to keep up the the circular high-speed trajectory requested of. This results in a large empty space developing behind each propellor blade that looks like an air bubble but in reality is almost completely evacuated.

The slightest little variation in the propeller's rate of spin as well as any change on the vessels course results in the Cavitation Bubble very, very quickly changing both its size and its shape.

What that means is that if you use a conventional propellor to get yourself in anywhere in a real hurry, your propellor's Cavitation Bubbles will be blasting the most incredibly loud noise all over the entire ocean.

A metal cutting tool known as a Million Machine is used to accurately cut metal stock to have accurately flat and perpendicular sides, to be a certain specific height, width and length, as well as to cut channels with vertical sides.

While the hand-operated variety of Milling Machine I learned to use in the Caltech Student Shop will set you back a cool fifteen grand, they are rather easy to learn how to use. If you're patient enough to approach your final demensions by slicing off the thinnest layers of metal you possibly can, then checking your progress with a Caliper Micrometer that will set you back maybe a hundred bucks or so, in one or two weeks of practice you can reliably perform all those machining operations to a precision of one ten thousandth of an inch!

A more advance form known as the Numerically Controlled Milling Machine uses a very, very simple computer programmer that the simplest fool can learn how to write, to carefully move all three axes of the Milling Machine back and forth at carefully controlled and continuously variant rates.

While a Numerical Mill will set you back fifty or a hundred grand a pop, if you own just one then you are set for life, because you can just chuck a block of metal on the Mill's platform, pop the Go button, what to or three minutes, then you have a piece of metal whose entire surface is machined accurately and smoothly to any arbitary curved surface you desire.

Numerical Mills work so quickly that that hand-loaded ones are used by small machine shops for low-volume production, while completely robotically operated Numerical Mills are employed by automobile parts manufacturers to accurately and smoothly machine a crude engine block castiing into an engine block completely ready to install into a new car on the Detroit assembly line in less then a minute!

Milling Machines all have three axes: Height, Width and Length.

In the late 1980s, I read that some really high end machine tool manufacture had been fined a hundred million dollars for violating the arms control export regulations that forbid the export of weapons as well as the tools used to make them to anywhere in the Communist World.

Those same regulations once forbid the export of any but the most laughingly insecure encryption technology outside of the United States, not just to the Communists.

They sold a quite large, quite high precision and incredibly expensive Numerically Controlled Four Axis Miilling Machine to the still ardently Communist People's Republic of China, thereby supplying the entire Communist World with the one single tool they required to make submarine propellers that run just as quietly as the Free World propellers all do!

While the entire Communist World lived in desperate poverty as a result of their desperate struggle to defend themselves from the massive nuclear and conventional attack that the Free World made plainly apparent to every from of life in the Communist World was comming Real Soon Now, and so was never able to produce any manner of physical technology they did not absolutely have to..

In just about every respect, every last Communist Theoretical and Experimental Scientist and Engineer put every last Free World Theoretical and Experimental Scientist and Engineer.

That was because the Communists knew from the very instant that the United States invaded Siberia shortly after the Soviet Revolution in an a suprise attack that is now almost forgotten to history, that the only way they could avoid having after last man woman and child murdered by the West...

Was to identify, at a very early age, every small child of any real intellectual ability of any real significance, snatch them away from their grieving but rather proud and quite patriotic parents, and enroll them in small special schools found throught the entire Communist World for an entire lifetime of the very finest Science, Mathematical and Engineering Education that has ever walked the face of the planet Earth!

in December, 1984 happened to meet a Russian starving artist whose day job was working as a curator at a small tourist gallery right next to San Francisco's Ghirardelli Square. My Cousing Glen and I ran in there to take cover from a sudden rainstrom, where this guy took notice of the fact that I instantly became completely captivated by a large Salvador Dali lithograph. I've always been heavily into Salvador Dali.

He instantly went damn near out of his tree in his efforts to sell that Dali print to me. He must have been paid on commission, and that print cost two grand.

"Put it on your Visa!" he shouted with great joy.

Visa my fat hairy ass. I had dropped out of Caltech a month and a half before that when I suddenly started photographing my own hallucinations. My incredible insight into all manner of computer gave me the idea that I could sell IBM PCs at Radio Shack, but I never got so much as one job interview!

But he was happy to make one of the most happy friendly and intriguing conversations in my entire life!

He had immigrated to America from the Soviet Union. I don't know how he managed to pull that stunt off, as the usual way most Communists tried to emigrate to the Free World almost always resulted in their entire bodies being penetrated by hundreds of machine gun bullets, or perhaps being blown to small meaty chunks as a result of stepping on a land mine.

"I'm glad I get to live in America now," he said shortly before Glen and I went on for our walking tour around The City when the rain finally subsided.

"In Russia, I was forced to be Electrical Engineer!"

"Electrical Engineer" not "An Electrical Engineer". The Russian language doesn't have articles like "The", "A" and "An", so Russian speakers never manage to figure out why all Westerners keep insisting on putting this completely pointless nonsensical words in front of all their nouns!

My Cousin speaks Russian with such incredible fluency that not only was he permitted to travel for five months all across the entire Soviet Union in the early 1980s, which was the height of the Cold War and NOT during the Cuban Missile Crisis as most Westerners believe, but every Communist knew, because President Ronald Reagan had been proudly announcing ever since he was California governor in the late 1960 how incredibly happy he was that he had been sent to Earth by God Almighty Himself to initiate the War that would bring about the End Times and the Second Coming of Christ...

... Which started out with an address before a gathering of all the Republican California State Legislators that was recorded and is now easily turned up in a Google search all over every corner of the entire Fucking Internet...

... That extensive theoretical, historical, and biblical research had clearly identified that the enemy nation of Gog against which this war would be fought was, without at doubt, the Union of Soviet Socialist Republics...

... and that the fact that the Book of Revelation clearly explains that Gog would lose the war when the entire nation was completely consumed with fire, meant that America would bring about the End Times and bring the Prince of Peace back to Earth for a second visit by Pressing the Big Red Button so that quite suddenly and completely out of nowhere, in the space of ninety minutes on the case of the giant Intercontinental Ballistic Missiles found in silos all over the Northern United States, twenty or thirty minutes in the case of the Minuteman Missiles in our giant nuclear submarines, one minute in the case of the tiny Uranium bombs that were ready to be fired just a few miles from across the border between East and West, with one such Uranium bomb to be found every five miles or so, five to ten minutes for the far more powerful Medium Range Ballistic Missiles, and about eighteen hours for the numerous, incredibly large and powerful hydrogen bombs that were kept on hand for just such an occassion in the Bomb Bays of all the giant B-52s at Minot Base in North Dakota...

... Every single Soviet and Communist Bloc Military Base, the vast majority of their men, weapons and armor deployed in the field, all of their own nuclear weapons as well as the vehicles they once hope to use to deliver that particular "Having a Good Time, Wishing You Were Here to their loved ones in the Western Hemisphere, as well as not only Moscow and Leningrad, but every Soviet city of any significant size...

... would be blown into a rather low pressure gas as well as tiny, quite radioactive dust particles all over the entire Earth's upper atmosphere.

Every Soviet knew that was bound to happen someday, and so went to great lengths to live way out in the middle of nowhere, perhaps by obtaining work as a natural gas or oil worker in remote and incredibly frigid Siberia. Oil and Gas are all over Siberia, whose export to Europe now drives the now rather prosperous Russian economy. Lots of valuable mineral deposits well.

Unfortunately, they'd get the bad news a month or two later when they'd take a shower, only to discover that the drain had become clogged because a bunch of their hair had fallen out!

Puzzled, they'd reach up, grab a tuft of hair, and it would pop right off without the slightest resistance.

They immediately knew what had already happened.

Perhaps I can find a gun or some poison instead?

Incredibly painful diarrhea was well as vomitting would initiate not long after, with both the feces and the vomit being black with digested blood cells as well as the linings of ones intestines and stomach.

Within the month, small droplets of blood would ooze from the skin all over their entire body, eventually growing to quite large, profusely bleeding and incurable open sores.

If they somehow manage to survive all this, they start having all manner of strange perceptual difficulties with their sight, hearing, sense of taste and touch, because the thin cell membranes that separate the insides of their brain's neurons from their outsides are beginning to liquify and dissolve into their bloodstream.

If they someone survive all this, they will begin having auditory and visual hallucinations as well as paranoia that puts my own Bipolar Schizoaffective Disorder Completely to shame.

Perhaps you can see where I am going here.

The Hindus have always hated the Muslims for defiling their ancient and holy homeland. The Muslims have always known this, and so have always taken every opportunity to point out the errors of the Hindus to them by murdering them or perhaps burning down their temples from time to time.

The very first problem Ghandi faced after expelling the British was how to keep the peace between the Muslims and Hindus. The decision was made to advise all Hindus to stay in what is now India, and to advise all those of the Muslim faith to pack up what they could carry on their backs or perhaps in a small oxcart, the settle in the predominantly Muslim region to the North.

Pakistan was at first two regions, one to the West where the modern Pakistan is now, and the other far, to the East.

It was so difficult to govern the Eastern portion of Pakistan from the Western portion, that eventually the Eastern portion became the modern nation of Bangladesh.

The vast majority of Bangledish is sparsely populated and rural. Few Bangladeshis ever get much education, thus the vast majority are condemned to spend their entire lives condemned to the most appalling cruel kind of poverty. It's everything the Bangladeshis can do to avoid starving to death.

Bangladesh is a rather arid country but has quite adundant water not far below the ground. Thus a massive quantity of money from donor countries was spent to drill walls wherever any significant number of Bangladeshis lived, where the old fashioned kind of hand-operated water pumps that are still to be found throughout much of rural America were installed.

Only too late was it discovered that this incredible act of human kindness was, in reality, the most savagely and sadistically manner of cruel joke to ever be pulled on a completely innocent victim in the entire history of humanity:

Bangladesh is completely shot through with Arsenic, the salts of which are completely soluble in water, only a tiny quantity of which will kill you. The required quantity is colorless, odorless and tasteless, so the easiest way to murder someone without them ever catching on is to sneak some arsenic salts into their food or beverages.

There's not so much arsenic that everyone just dropped dead. Instead, a year or two after the wells were drilled, a strange, mysterious but only sickening plague broke out throughout the entire nation of Bangladesh. It was only advanced study by medical diagnostic experts that it was realized that this was the slow form of arsenic poisoning.

The Bangladeshis all know what would inevitably happen to them if they keep drinking that well water. But for many, many Bangledeshis, poisoning themselves with arsenic is their only hope of living in constant torment, because the only way to get the barest quantity of water required to survive is to spend hours and hours and hours every day walking to an above-ground stream with a clay jug, then carrying it home again.

Throughout most of the arid regions of the third world, the carrying of water is traditional performed by women, who use a circular ring of cloth to pad the top of their heads, thereby providing a flat surface to carry the jug on the top of their heads.

Carrying that much water for any significant distance with your arms would otherwise be so incredibly exhausting that you would never have any hope of getting enough water back to your home to even survive.

There is now a huge cash bounty that has been widely publicized throughout the entire scientific community, that will be awarded to to whoever can come up with a way to purify the well water, that is cheap enough for the nation of Bangledesh to use, and that is easy enough to use that the correct procedure can be made plainly apparent to even the simplest fool.