Conclusive Ignorance and Inertial Boosters

Conclusive ignorance has been discussed in several earlier pages. It is the wallboard of the condominium mind, the atmospheric blanket of the Earthfirster, the God's rim of the Christian, the prisoner's beloved wall.

It is one of the two primary flaws which make up the human condition, the opposite, in a way, of critical levity.

The second of these flaws is "inertial boosterism", defined as cheerleading the status quo, bucking for yesterday, voting now in the last election. An inertial booster is someone who at any level of consciousness willfully supports anything because it was instead of creating his wish now.

The inertial fanclub is the core of all authority, the twist on the deathrope of civilization, the heart of dying and the terror of the future.

In the individual, as it is sometimes informally called, the blackness of possible despair is a combination of inertial boosts and conclusive ignorance. Both are convictions based on the premise of small power of consciousness -- "it's bigger than both of me", "I don't believe I could have created this since it is bigger than I am", "if there were anything I could do about it, I wouldn't anyway, and there isn't, so there."

These are the crimes being spouted on our every street by smart shoppers and waitresses who tell you their first names, by health club businessheads with budgets in their shirt pockets and golden parachutes, by every authority known in the animal kingdom, and by the tourist with band aids in the glovecompartment and Kodak in his scrotum.

Boosting inertia is fraternizing with the Enemy of Everyone.

If there is, in all the wash and tide of invented language scrubbing the pores of the planet daily, a single "enemy line" it is this: "It is the way it is. Leave well enough alone."

The weak, phlegmy, spittlespined soul examines this idea with terror -- how exhausting the very thought of entirely creating every iota of experience newly all the time without let or rest!

(Tarzan laughs and renews the jungle in a different color, with bigger alligators in a massive river of boiling ocher.

Jane rips the river from its bed and stands it on end as a kind of alligator candycane, miles high and spraying ocher steam on the miles of condo trees she has just invented to replace Tarzan's rainforest -- each trunk neatly fashioned as a complete two bedroom unit with solarpowered microwave and hot and cold water in its veins, all in natural bole.)

No excuses, folks; the laws have just passed the Infinitely Liberated Consciousness Congress. From this point on it is declared a crime to worship anything that is just because it was. Boosting the inertia of a creation is punishable by instant vaporization into a mist of creative potential in every wavelength known to the angels. Thereafter the offender will be required to mark all his creations with a tiny scarlet letter "i" to denote his diseased proclivity for past, until he uncreates his identity and puffs himself an entire new one.

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