The REAL Reason Bush and Cheney Will Not Be Impeached

Everyone is like a passener on a bus that is not being driven an unconscious driver.

Of course, that's exactly the state of our human reality even without Cheney and Bush doing 9-11 and evoking a war on the Middle East for oil.

If you read enough history, the BIG LIE is all about human competence.

Our individual worlds are unequivocally based upon an unwarranted sureness derived from the familiarity of knowing our own private worlds best, and unhesitatingly believing that coupled with this ill-perceived competence, if we hear or read a lie, that through some process of acknowledging what we perceive clearly as a lie, enlightenment evolves knowledge and the truth is revealed to us alone. This is clearly but a grasping emotion and, a logical fallacy.

The psychosomatic nature of all our realities is perhaps better phrased for the reader, as: We pretty much sleep-walk through our entire lives, and if we are not already dreaming about it, we tend to walk right by whatever it was without ever noticing something is amiss with our perception. The it here is any of the great infinite number of the components of the quite obviously, massively, even impossibly overwhelmingly complex thing in itself.

Our intellect is but a spec upon a seething mass of something we cannot comprehend for it dwarfs us as bacteria are drawfed upon the back of the elephant upon which they might live, and again as the elephant of the bacteria is dwarfed yet again by the galaxy, and yet again and again and again, and, conversely.

Or again, another description of our individual realities may be rephrased, that we allow to accumulate our own realities, like junk in our attic, a conglomerate whole that is quite nearly useless, almost disconnected from the thing in itself due to its utter insignificance compared to the far richer complexity of the thing in itself.

And again, the congomeration of junk in our attics provides a good analogy, representing the notion that this grouping of ideas, concepts, words and phrases that makes up our individual world, is not even a fair or even remotely indicative sampling of an immensely more complex real world outside our minds.

This disconnect we can only begin to comprehend based upon even our limited ability to comprehend it, is simple startling. When you philosophically begin to recognize it by a notion of the direction from which it comes into your thinking, you will have to pick yourself up off the floor of the building down the street in which you were preciously sitting comfortably when the thought entered your mind. For even a mild recognition of this disconnect between our own worlds we create and the thing in itself will simply knock you over as if you had been hit by a freight train.

This is not just true because of the sudden and complete discombobulation of all the recognizable and comfortable grouping of ideas, concepts, words and phrases that make up our perception of the likely homeyness of our individual world. It is also true because even our minimalist competence we assume effortlessly resounds and resonates a thought inside our head ceases, and we are no longer even the individual or, even anything remotely like what we thought was an individual and once thought we could be sure we were.

Worse yet however, there is some wider misheld belief among every society of intellectuals, those wild, fluttering, sqawking bevies of self-assured thinkers that must be seen as epistemological leaders in our surely leaderless cultures, that there is inherent in every society a mean truth-path intrinsic to the growing complexity of the patterns of culture, a somehow divined mean truth-path intrinsic to culture even as separate societies clash catastrophically.

To believe this unchosen path provides some measure of truth like yards of cloth is equivalent to a religious belief in some great being, an animism, that supernaturally guides the hand of the collective of humans in their societies of humanity. This notion there is a collective instinct capable of preventing massive and calamitous truth-mistakes from being made, based upon so many meager, tenuous and all too regimentally mistaken individual samplings of reality, somehow correlated as if choreographed by an unseen, non-conscious, collective guiding-entity capable of sorting through the psychosomatic machinations of large numbers of individually perceived worlds, the impossible composite of which, we presume makes a culture that will, could or even might ferret a path for a commonality of human truths, is simply an absurd and philosophically vulgar impossibility.

Don Robertson, The American Philosopher