As a child, I learned that sounds arise from vibrations of an object that disturb the media surrounding the object. These disturbances create variations in pressure that propagate as waves that our brains interpret as sounds upon reaching our ears. Well, that’s not exactly what I learned, but it’s close…yet not sufficiently accurate to be classified as a fact. Our ears implies that non-humans reading these words do not hear sounds. If we examine the assertion more closely, the statement suggests some non-humans are capable of reading the words on this screen. Beyond those fantasies, the claim that our brains interpret media disturbances as sounds is sheer folly. However, that claim happens to be entirely accurate to the extent that listeners to Fox News insist that the noises they process from their radio and television and computer speakers carry information. In truth, those noises are cleverly disguised right-wing propaganda designed to mold brains that are as malleable as lime-flavored gelatine in a hot bowl.
My intent, when I started writing this morning, was to explore the sounds of thunder. Which, as we know, are noises that arise when lightning bolts rapidly (almost instantly) heat the surrounding air to almost inconceivably high temperatures. This heating, followed by rapid cooling, causes the surrounding air to expand and then contract, producing a sound wave we hear as thunder. Again, though, the question arose in my mind: what is the identity of this we who hears the thunder? Obviously, this simplistic explanation of the sound of thunder fails to account for the millions of realities the scientists decide to omit from their explanations. Who, by the way, are these scientists? Are they the same group of people who practice the special version of voodoo we call meteorology? In the name of all that’s holy, I hereby assert that meteorologists are simply practitioners of the occult pseudo-science called weather-forecasting. Believe me, I know whereof I write. I have actually engaged in dialogues with meteorologists—conversations that raise the hairs on the back of my neck and in the curves of my knees.
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I would continue to document my exploratory pseudo-journalistic discoveries, but I am scheduled to appear before another “ologist,” this morning. A radiologist…a man who, ostensibly, may be able to aim tiny beams of invisible light at microscopic cancer cells, causing those demonic cells to explode in bursts of magic and supernatural transmogrification unequaled in modern times.
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By the way, I want to thank Meg and Patty and Hope for their words of encouragement for yesterday’s post. Their actions just show how one’s world can change by employing the right medium for one’s begging endeavors.
