What’s M’Mo?

It’s a tacit, albeit occasionally documented rule in the theater that the director never give a line reading to an actor. That means, do not tell him or her, “Say it this way.” As tempting as it might be not to deal with divas’ dilemmas, a good director assembles circumstances which facilitate the actor’s imagination. Still some cannot be bothered with the rigors…
of the fostering…
of the motivation…
of the character.
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To imagine a world to make it so. Applied, this runs the gamut from one (seeing & being) to the preemptively litigant neocorportheocracy (stealing & dealing).

Get thine ass to a farmers market
Their grubby wares just might not be fake

An Italian orange distributor (or something) has been busted breaking the rules regarding what is legally classifiable as organic. This reminds me of the Chicago recycling firm who was caught not meeting the 30 percent quota: Some were surprised to find out that the city’s contract sent most of the blue bags straight to the landfill in the first place. It was as if the city’d negotiated, “What percent of the bags could you reasonably sort out without even trying – like, accidentally.”

Those upset over the orange story might want to read up on the evolution of the EU regs.

Could it be immoral (insofar as immorality is that which flames the feign of outrage) to rely on someone else to be your watchdog? At some point, shouldn’t you stop lying to yourself, admit that the tiny sticker bought off your conscience and accept that these pristinely packaged goods are not gonna be what the label says they are? Allowing someone who’s innately corrupt and notoriously malfeasant to do your homework is not a fools game – unless you believe it so. And if you believe it so, you are a new category of fool.

Or, maybe not all that new.

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If it’s negative thinking that stimulates the chemical process that drives one to the state of depression, then my dreams are devoid of negative thoughts; I am never depressed in my dreams that I can recall. However, since I never awake with even the tiniest semblance of desire to depart the state of slumber, it might be that my dream-state is not accomplishing its job. I can’t find my character. Of course, I could just try acting.


The sky’s not what you dream
Nor the bees, or their sting
They’re all disappearing

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