I recently called my buddy Doug (https://laskenlog.blogspot.com/), which surprised him because I don't have a phone. This is because I'm a telepath, the real kind, retired from playing nightclubs and cruise ships, where I pretended to be fake. These days I inhabit a one room shack in the Mojave desert north of L.A., where I get my fill of human communication out of the air and have no additional need for verbiage via technology.
Nevertheless, I called Doug on a pay phone.
“Hey man, I need help processing some things,” I started with.
"Harry? Why aren't you telepathing me, if that's a verb?"
“I need you to help me think in human language. Normally, as you know, I find it an overly causal, rather pushy means of expression, but for once I want to control things.”
"This must be serious!"
"We're all in the same boat," I sighed, "...the same sinking boat."
I am pessimistic by self-definition, though I often strive to burnish an appearance of optimism with incomplete expressions like, "The glass is half full (of shit)."
I explained to Doug, for the umpteenth time, that I believe that human consciousness is a construct, one of whose purposes is to individualize us, so that we believe we are independent actors, "people," if you will. When I telepathically travel outside of human language, I see further possibilities. Once I experienced being a porpoise with half its brain asleep; another time I was Zephyr- the spirit of the West Wind."
"But lately," I continued (though I wasn't sure Doug was listening), "I've been alarmed by what I pick up from media and real time humans and animals who pass my way. Now I see 'us,' my term for atoms and molecules of all sorts, including our own, as increasingly unstable, fissionable material."
“In other words: Ka-Boom!” I spouted, in what I hoped was a decisive summing-up. I told Doug that I want to function like the city of Los Angeles' phone app that alerts users to imminent earthquakes. But I want to alert people to mindquakes, which are at least as dangerous as the geologic kind. Once the distinctive shaking starts, it will gradually accelerate, either concluding in destruction, or slowing down, dissolving, and giving us another chance. We should have some say in this.
"The instability we face," I went on, "though it appears localized in time, emerged eons ago, after hundreds of millions of years of single-celled life grazing and meditating on the ocean floor. One day their unending joy offended God, who proclaimed, 'For their sins, let them eat each other.'"
When will the age of predation end? I'm trying to contrast two hypothetical versions of this end, one, the popular concept of "The Big One," the other, that of Christian apocalyptic thinking as expressed in Revelation, the final book of the Bible.
The Big One is a modern concept of secular events, like atomic wars or an asteroid hitting the Earth.
The other, Revelation, is a mystic vision of a God-mediated termination of the world, perhaps via world wars led by one or more Anti-Christs. Though widely popular with early Christians, Revelation at first met resistance from Church authorities, who were perhaps wary of its pessimistic message. Revelation was rejected for inclusion in the canon by the Council of Laodicea in 363 AD. The Synod of Hippo, in 393 AD, was poised to reject it again but had second thoughts when it realized that Christians were going to read Revelation whether it was canonical or not. After all, it provided human life with a purpose: To die.
The Big One does not entail an afterlife, and Revelation is vague on evidence for one. As I argued to Doug, I think we’d be better off, instead of figuring out how to end it all, seeking decent ways to survive it.
Doug said he agrees about survival, but hopes it doesn’t entail too many Revealed Big Ones. We were in agreement on that.
This and the following post discuss a new money-maker, Duanju, the Chinese term for the micro-dramas they created that are sweeping cell phones and reaping big financial rewards. I submitted two draft episodes, but have not heard back. Now I read in the Los Angeles Times (4/31/26) that the vertical/micro/cell phone genre has arrived in the U.S. and is raking in big bucks on Tik/Tok and other sites. What am I waiting for? While China procrastinates, America, here I come!
Suggested first episodes for two US produced vertical dramas:
Trump the Great
Episode 1
Open in Oval Office. President leans back in his chair, smirking as he reads a newspaper. Secretary of War Pete Hegseth paces anxiously behind the president, trying to attract his attention.
Hegseth: Sir, your ratings are sinking to new lows, even beneath last week’s 38%! Don’t we need to do something?
President (continuing to smirk, still looking at his paper): Like what? Pete, you’re ruining my morning.
Hegseth: With all due respect sir, how long can a president go on like this, in terms of screwing our constituents and allies…in terms of screwing yours and… well, my future careers?
President: Pete, you worry wart! You know, don’t you, that catastrophic turmoil is about to engulf the US and most of the world?
Hegseth: Well, I….
President: Yeah Pete, you know. And don’t you realize that when people are rushing around trying to survive, they won’t have time to protest their president? They’ll be too busy looking for food, shelter and so on.
Hegseth (smiling broadly): Sir, once again you prove the greatness of your vision!
President (broadening his smile and leaning back more): Good boy, Pete!
Estimated time of episode: 5 minutes.
Ricky, Boy Wonder
Episode 1
Open on Ricky, a 15 year old prodigy, known by teachers and friends (but not by his mother, Doris) for uncanny powers of prophesy. Ricky is lying on the bed in his room, writing in his notebook, when his mother bursts in.
Doris (putting hands on hips): Ricky, at it again? I’ve been asking you for two days to rake the back yard leaves!
Ricky: Mom, I’ll do it, but I’m on to something really critical, about….
Doris: I’ll give you something critical, young man, if you don’t rake those leaves!
Ricky: Please mom, at least let me tell you what I’m working on, then I promise I’ll rake the leaves.
Doris: You’ll rake them right after you spout your latest?
Ricky: Yes mom, right after you listen to me.
Doris: All right, Mr. Know-it-all, let’s hear it.
Ricky: Ok mom, I’ve been considering how the internet and cell phones are making it less and less necessary for people to be in each other’s presence in order to have relations.
Doris: Hey, why didn’t I think of that? Are you done? The leaves, you promised, remember?
Ricky: No mom, I’m not done. Also consider how every time you write something on your laptop, a message comes up asking if you’d like to improve your writing by letting an AI do it.
Doris: Ok, I’ve considered it. The leaves are waiting, buster.
Ricky: Mom, don’t you see what this means? It’s not just human jobs that will be phased out- it’s humans!
Doris: Don’t get smart with me buster! Get off that bed and do what you promised!
Ricky: Mom, we are developing ourselves out of physical existence! Future humans won’t need proximity, or even to look like humans! We'll probably become football sized organic blobs, needing only to be plugged into each other.
Doris: Your big words don’t work on me, smart ass! Get off that bed and rake the leaves!
Ricky: Aw, mom.
Estimated time of episode: 5 minutes.
For years I worked on a fictional series on this blog, Harry the Human, about two telepathic, alienated souls: Harry the Human and Robert the Telepathic Gila Monster. Sadly, the series did not generate the financial return I had sought in order to end my bondage to the Los Angeles Unified School District.
But there is hope! A new market for mini-dramas, or "duanju" as they are called by their Chinese creators, is making billions on soap opera- like episodes, only a few minutes in length, that combine themes of greed and eroticism. These mini-dramas appear on millions of cell phones every day.
Ka-ching!
Below, I hopefully submit to duanju producers two beginning episodes for a newly sculpted Harry and Robert. Thank you for your consideration!
Episode #1 of The Controlling Father
Harry the Human goes out into the desert once in a while, when the urge overcomes his distracted soul, to erupt into the wind. On one occasion, Robert the Telepathic Gila Monster, from behind a rock, observes Harry in this shameful act and is consumed with grief at his friend’s desperation and depravity. That night, Harry receives a knock on his door, opens it and finds Robert carried in the arms of a beautiful woman named Trish, the daughter of a billionaire tech mogul. It turns out that Robert, combining his mystic background with esoteric traits found in gila monsters, is able to convince humans to try novel experiences, and he has used his abilities to induce Trish, who is intrigued by the idea of escaping her controlling father, to travel to Harry’s shack, where she finds Harry to be, indeed, a far cry from anyone’s controlling father. Harry is at first taken aback, but then succumbs to his not so cosmic cravings. You can guess the rest.
Estimated time of episode: Two minutes.
Episode #1 of Lizard Love
Robert the Telepathic Gila Monster travels to Bhutan where, atop a Himalayan peak near the famed Tiger’s Nest Monastery, he meets Sylvie, a hot tokay gecko (a distant relative of Robert's brand, the Mojave gila). A mutual attraction develops immediately, but differences between the two species present a problem. Sylvie explains that female tokays find a partner through a mating call, but, when she demonstrates the call, Robert develops an intense headache, and also finds that he is unable to reproduce the call (represented in English as Ke-ke-ack-a-grrrrp). Robert explains to Sylvie that the come-hither message of the Mojave gila is not conveyed by sound, but by a smell emanating from a naturally produced chemical called a pheromone. The scent stimulates a strong sexual response - at least in the right species. After Robert squirts a sample, Sylvie becomes nauseated and can barely keep from vomiting. The two reptiles experience a few moments of despair, but Robert suddenly receives a message from his cosmic birthplace and proclaims, “Sylvie, we don’t need these random accoutrements. Let’s just gaze into each other’s eyes and let nature take its course!” Sylvie sees the logic in Robert’s idea. The gazing begins and you can guess the rest.
Estimated time of episode: Two minutes.
Thank you for considering these proposed series for Harry the Human and Robert the Telepathic Gila Monster mini-dramas! I look forward to a profitable and fulfilling collaboration!
All the best, D.L.
Thanks to a technique I learned from Betty the Coyote Goddess (keep reading for more on Betty), I've been able to telepathically link to far away people. Most notably, I had this exchange with President Trump earlier today. I post it here without comment. Harry the Human
Me: Mr. President, some of the things you do don't make sense.
Trump: Such as?
Me: Well, I don’t understand why you ridiculed Rob Reiner and his wife after they were murdered. It upset people. Even many of your supporters didn’t like it. Since we’re in this special, protected space, can you explain why you would do something like that?
Trump: Sure, I don't really have to please anyone any more- that's the beauty of being on top like I am. All of MAGA could turn against me, I wouldn't care. I'll be starting some big major wars, and people will be too busy surviving to bother me about anything. As for Reiner, he criticized me. I hate when that happens. Don't you hate when people criticize you?
Me: Sometimes, but I don’t rejoice at their deaths, at least not publicly. Don’t you worry that people will rejoice at your death?
Trump: No. Quite frankly, I don't give a shit. How about you, do you care what people will think of you when you're dead?
Me: Uhm, kind of.
I want to see the final vision
between reductio ad absurdum
And primal sleep.
I think that’s where you keep it.
Does it last just that moment
When the eye expands
beyond light
to see its own context?
I want to see it now!
So I won’t need death
to be alive.
Jacob Wrestling God; Jacob Epstein; Tate Gallery, London
This is Doug, not Harry. I usually post on my blog (Lasken's Log at https://laskenlog.blogspot.com/) but technical problems forced me to post on Harry's for a while. Keep reading and you'll come again to Harry's realm.
Don't be afraid to feel like a character in a science fiction story, because that's what you are. In this story, a New York shyster takes the presidency, undermines all of the country: rural areas, national parks, cities - in my case Los Angeles, attacking schools, social structures, economies and self-esteem - and works as well to undermine the rest of the world. If you're a science fiction fan, you know what's next : Wars of the World, disguised as expressions of history and destiny that are in fact cover stories obstructing the real unfolding history: our transition from homo sapiens to AI powered, genetically engineered quasi-humans.
You can call this scenario a science fiction story, or, if you're brave, a conspiracy theory. We’ve been trained to attach a negative connotation to “conspiracy theory,” but you can tout this one, because it's true. Trump, at the moment, is the outward force of the conspiracy, paving the way for acolytes to make fortunes beyond Midas' dreams, and downfall for the rest.
We need a new political entity to modify this conspiracy's vision, but such an entity does not seem forthcoming from the familiar political parties, the Democrats and Republicans. The decent Congresspeople - the ones who are not just pretending to push back against Trump - have slim chances without much more support from their colleagues, and two more years is more than enough for Trump to wreck the planet.
What is required is a force that can move quickly and effectively. Such a force would need support, and for support it would need to espouse purposes that no one else is espousing. Here’s a suggested purpose statement: "We seek to ensure that the current biomechanical revolution produces more than mere replacement of the traditional human species with a new one. To this end we will work to establish cultures in which the current human model, though accepting supportive improvement, maintains its independence and remembers its origins."
Such a purpose statement could attract funding as more people realize what is happening. So far that's not where the money has been. The money has been on sucking up whatever sustenance is left in the earth in order to establish a few fabulously wealthy autocracies that rule the lives of bio-bots.
If we don't work towards modification of that plan, we face multiple levels of extinction.
A spirit told me to take a previous post down, because it was unforgiving, hopeless, and used ugly words like "incorporate" and "regional." I think it was my mother's spirit whispering that the post disturbed her. Should I just come out and say: "I believe in spirits?" No, I don't believe in spirits, I just pretend to so that in a hidden chamber of my mind where believing in spirits is vital, I can believe that I believe I heard my mom's spirit, telling me the post was focussed on a blur that no one will understand because no one will want to understand, and I should try again because it will work out, it will become good, if not in this dimension than in another. She did tell me something like that, on the phone, two weeks before she died, and two weeks since I had last visited her, when she said, "It's ok when you die. It really is." She didn't tell me why it's ok, or how she knew. And I didn't ask. Why didn't I ask her those questions or a million others? But what else could she have meant than, "You have a spirit, and when you die (even if a nuclear bomb lands directly on your head and your atoms are spread so far and wide they don't know they're atoms) your spirit is released, intact, with a karma that determines its circumstances, paradisical or otherwise, and you will continue, and I will see you again." Is it possible to believe something without having any idea if it's true? Especially lately as humanity’s historic cycle from constructive peace to insane slaughter begins to enter the latter, it’s nice at times to believe something pleasant, whether or not it solves anything. My own concern about the post my mother didn't like was that it revealed that I had no idea what to do, no concrete bit of advice, like,"Think positive," or, "Breathe from the stomach," nothing, so should I stop writing essays that don't offer feasible solutions? Then what can I write? My mom says not to quote her now, to use my own words. Ok, I'll just briefly withdraw back to the "real world," where it's clear that some awful event is approaching that will, in its international awfulness, be the key to unlock the accumulated fury that our managers have been stockpiling for years, a key like the assassination of Archduke Ferdinand in 1914, or the attack on Pearl Harbor in 1941, constructed to detonate carefully calibrated explosions unleashing chain reactions of violence (sorry mom, I'm almost done) which, this time, will serve as smoke screens to hide the installation of new versions of the human race, versions to which not everyone will belong, and which everyone will definitely not own. But, although no one - not the most powerful shaman or wizard - can stop this sci-fi horror story from happening in our reality, there is, I choose to believe, a spirit world. What exactly am I trying to say...that we will be saved from the darkness by spirits, my mom's and other helpful ones? I wouldn't go that far...how about: We will be given hints, people will be connected, you will be plugged into a meditative world that is not at war with itself, and you will find solace.
