8/2/21, Ocean City, Maryland
Here he sits, a once hunted hoodrat, now a haunted counter-social brat, wondering about his biological fellows as they titter along the gaslit halls of a prison called freedom...
It seems a simple thing, really, the weather; that one could not lie about the weather and get away with it, for he would be found out, even by the stooge-worthy among us.
This morning I look at a text from Bob in Utah, concerning record flooding event in his area of the Rockies. This follows on unusually high summer temperatures and abnormal snows in portions of Colorado and Utah back in March.
But only the high temperatures are reported nationally. The record lows and snowfalls are not reported nationally, only locally. It is interesting but not remarkable that we are lied to on a local basis, being assured that our experiences are odd and that the rest of the world is warming relentlessly even when our slice is cooling.
I have noted this since becoming a hobo, that people are shocked when I tell them about weather elsewhere, tending perceive the opposite type of change, that which they have been informed of as NEWS—sacred lies vested with the force of mob law.
But surely, one cannot lie to people about the weather outside their own front door?
Last Monday, when Mister Grey rolled into town for a visit before I head west, he noted, “The crickets are out. They're early this year.”
“Yes,” I agreed, “I usually don't notice them until late August, and in September they are singing up a storm.”
I don't know anything about crickets. But since Jimminy Cricket in Disney's version of Pinocchio was obviously a black dude, and musically inclined, I assume the crickets wax rhythmic with their chitonous fiddles to announce to their sisters, “Come on out en dance girls—y'all know it's gonna be too cold ta be cuttin' da rug up in here b'fo long.”
Then, a few mornings ago, I stepped outside of Mom's place in Harford County, Maryland, when her plush and regal Collie, Zoe, wanted to enjoy the cool morning air. As she yawned in the cool mist, I checked my texts and one came from Mister Grey up in Pennsylvania:
“It was 55 degrees this last day of July. May the Frost Giants awake soon...”
Learning my lesson about sending spring snow pictures to Easties who think I photo-shopped them, or contradicting their national weather news with actual experiences, I have confined my discussion of the weather to my experience in Pennsylvania, Jersey and Maryland this spring and summer. These experiences have been identical in all three states:
-Higher than normal humidity
-More than usual thunder storms
-Unusual quick cooling after storms, by 20 degrees
-Cool days until the very eve of summer
-NEVER a hot night
This last, the fact that since summer broke in normally sweltering Baltimore, I have not experienced a single night that was uncomfortably warm, and that until July we were wearing jackets and sweat shirts outside at night, has raised a yeti eyebrow and lowered others.
You see, all anybody in Maryland has been talking about weather wise, is how hot it is, even though the days are slightly cooler than normal and all have a cool breeze. Normally, through my life, Baltimore nights are unbearable without air conditioning for all of July and shade offers no relief from the high humidity and heat during the day.
But this year, a trend that has been accelerating over the past three, the summers are cooler. Yet, everyone is yammering about how hot it is because we hit 101—even though for decades having high-90s to low 100s for weeks on end was the norm.
What gives?
It is two things:
Everyone got fatter and they feel the heat more.
No one goes outside at night, unless they are down here in Ocean City. Baltimore is just too dangerous to sit on the porch. The air conditioners run all night and then when I go outside, it is cooler out there than in the house.
This traces back to lockdown recently and over deep time, our general separation from nature and thence from reality.
I tell people I live with, how cool it is outside, during the day in the shade and at night.
And they do not believe me, do not step outside their door to fact check my fakery, but look at their handheld altar and achieve an auto-correction of my anti-science blasphemy.
They believe the news, the NEWSLAW that is so powerful that it reshapes they're experience into something perceptually different.
We have literally become creatures of the news—self-extinguishing fires kindled by a wonderless Prometheus.
I too noticed the early crickets this year. They were evident by early July, when they are usually heard only late in August. The summer was very odd. It was extremely hot and dry during the Jupiter-in-Pisces ""white boy summer", but then strangely alternating between hot and cool from July and August with megadrought conditions during the Jupiter-Retrograde-to-Aquarius with Saturn "summer of discontent". Regularly, huge smoke clouds blew in and the light took on an apocalyptic red cast. It was the most remarkably sinister summer I can ever recall.
Funnily, here at 50N in Europe, we also had a very hot, arid week or two in the spring, followed by a humid and unusually cold summer. Tomato harvest was poor, the vineyards I visited were not looking good, mold was the reason in both cases. The media only mentioned (apparently) record high temperatures in Italy and Spain.
Dark winter is coming....GSM is upon us. Hope you are 'sort, stock and stick to the plan'