Listen live today at www.newdissidentradio.com - live streaming out of LA at 4pm PST / 7pm EST
Guests today are comedian, psychic and ghost hunter Karen Rontowski and my new correspondent Unkomik Thunder Davad.
Topics today include Evolution (or rather Davad's take on it) and God Divorcing His Wife.
Catch the past shows on itunes: http://itunes.apple.com/us/podcast/breaking-taboo-lakota-phillips/id421756643
or in the archives on www.newdissidentradio.com
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Monday, March 28, 2011
Breaking Taboo: The First Divorce – God Ditches His Wife
In the 1960’s a Hebrew inscription on a broken storage jar, found in Sinai and dated from the beginning of the eighth century BCE (Before Common Era) reads: 'I bless you by Yhwh of Samaria and his Asherah.' Lots of other references to Asherah exist and archeologists have been having a field day ever since sorting through the rubble. Why? Because it’s impossible to study humanity and try to grasp the inner workings of mankind without digging into the past.
The evolution of belief systems and our resulting societies… because face it – we are what we believe – is an intricate and endlessly fascinating puzzle. That puzzle has led us to where we are today. The recent news stories about God’s wife, Asherah, may seem like meaningless drivel, but there is in fact a great deal we can learn about our problems today by studying the past. Does it REALLY matter if the Jewish god Yahweh had a consort or wife? Not so much. Beliefs evolve and change over time. They assimilate and toss out what isn’t popular at any given time. Does it matter that all references to her were erased or reworked until she disappeared? Yes, it does actually. Not just as a reminder that history and the stories of a culture are written by the scribes in power (Can you say media megalopoly?) It should raise questions about what is believed to be Religious as well as Cultural Truths. It should raise questions regarding why even in this day and age women are not viewed as equals to men. Just look at the recent spat of legislation being proposed that takes away a woman’s control over her own body – and much of that in the name of religion.
See any resemblance to the ark of the covenent in this Asherah statue?
The breadcrumbs are there…. Just follow them.
Breaking Taboo - THE THEORY OF EVOLUTION
LAUGHING PHILOSOPHERS STUCK IN THE PRISON OF TIME AND THE THEORY OF EVOLUTION
By DAVAD M DAVAD
Roughly five hundred years before anyone decided to make up the arbitrary and silly mythology that is the Jesus Christ concept, a real man rose from Thrace and told us about atomic structure, galactic civilizations and Evolution. His ideas were amazing, considering there was no real science at the time. In fact, the Greek Democritus is known as “the father of Science.” And he was a happy, yet displanted soul, lost in a sea of brutal mediocrity, surrounded by ages of ignorance in all directions of space and time.
He was light years beyond those around him. Democritus wrote prodigious books and papers on philosophy, ethics, and a vast number of other previously unknown scientific disciplines. During his ninety years on the planet, he wrote about Evolution, and his ideas had features similar to Darwin’s theory. This was a man who was a contemporary of Socrates and Plato, and despite Democritus’ writings, racist bigots like Aristotle created the ridiculous color coded ideas of “Fixed Speciation and ‘The Golden Class.” And for reasons unknown…they all hated Democritus’ guts. Maybe they were jealous.
So, why am I telling you about some long dead Greek dude? Because he sat around, without a microscope and knew that Evolution, Astronomy, Biology, Anthropology, and science itself, existed, and that was well over TWO AND A HALF THOUSAND FUCKING YEARS AGO.
Meanwhile, at this very moment in time, Kentucky has something called “The Creation Museum” where the ‘science’ they use, suggests that humans lived with dinosaurs, that the world is only a few thousand years old, and ordering huge saber tooth steaks so heavy they tip over their foot propelled cars was all part of life for the stone age families.
Sometimes I want to scream at kids with Cigarettes, because my mother; who is in her seventies, stopped smoking back in the sixties, the moment they said “Hey, this causes Cancer” some fifty years ago. Why do people still smoke? Well, the same reason people still believe in stupid shit like Creationism and Intelligent Design concepts.
And I might add, ‘concept’ is as far as they go. There is no theory there, not even hypothesis. Those formulas belong to the heady realm of Science. If I say that “Glenn Beck is the Devil,” that’s just an idea. If I say “Glenn Beck is the Devil and that is why the world is going to hell.” and I can prove it - that is a hypothesis. If I can show you empirical evidence of him eating babies and traveling to hell and back on a whorey steed woven from the souls of duped Republican Teabaggers and have photos and video to back it up and seventy million other people saw him too…well…that starts to stray into the ‘theory’ department. But only after strict longitudinal testing.
So, let’s just discount all that bullshit, and not dwell on it. Lets concentrate on allowing our minds to understand Evolution and the broader implications of what math plus matter plus energy plus space plus time; have wrought for us at this stage of the game, some thirteen billion seven hundred million years since some George Carlin lookin dude opened up a can of multiversal whoopass.
Now, most folks want to talk about Evolution in terms of us. Its all about us. That’s known as Anthropogenics, or as I like to call it ‘being selfish Monkeys.’ But the Evolution of humanity and Evolution itself are not just concepts but the provable factual theory that is very fabric of the universe. We move ever forward, entropy destroys, energy creates, and situations make us become. Life is an expression of the universe, just like a black hole or a neutron star, or even Charlie Sheen. Yes, even him.
If I ever get my time machine working again, I plan to go rescue Democritus from his two and a half thousand year deep prison and bring him to an age that can truly appreciate him…chiefly, the twenty ninth century.
UNKOMIK THUNDER
Thursday, March 10, 2011
GHOST HUNTER - NEW from ELLORA'S CAVE!
I'm so excited to announce I have a new book out with Ellora's Cave! It's a paranormal romance called GHOST HUNTER, and it's got a hunky hero, a kick-ass heroine and a serial killing ghost that's scary as hell! Not to mention a smokin' hot cover!
I love when I come up with an idea for a book out of the blue, which is what happened with GHOST HUNTER. When I heard my local RWA chapter set up a lecture with a team of paranormal investigators, it got me thinking right away about writing a book about a ghost hunter. Because the chapter is far from where we live, though, we didn't actually go to the lecture. I was a little bummed about that, especially since they were giving out EMF detectors. On second thought, maybe it was better we didn't go. Ghosts freak me out, so having something that can detect them probably wouldn't be a good idea.
Enough about me, back to the story behind the story. While I knew the hero was a ghost hunter named Trace, I wasn't quite sure how the heroine fit into the story, or even who she was. So, my hubby and I played around with a few ideas at our local PF Chang's (we come up with a lot of story ideas there!) We both decided that having the heroine Cassidy need the hero's help because her house was haunted or something like that didn't seem original enough, so we made her a budding romance writer who tags along with the hero and his team to do some research. Like any good story, though, it had to have some conflict, which is why Trace and Cassidy completely rub each other the wrong way right from the beginning. Actually, he thinks he's a jerk. But don't worry, Cassidy discovers underneath that rough ghost hunter exterior, Trace is just the man she's been looking for. It doesn't hurt that he's hot!
Okay, so we had our hero and heroine. Now we needed a bad guy. That's where the ghost comes in. He's not your standard, everyday ghost, though. He's a serial killer who attacked Cassidy that comes back from the grrave to continue his string of grisly murders, and she's at the top of his list. To make things even more interesting, not only can he do all the regualar ghostly stuff like walk through walls and materialize out of thin air, he can also take solid form.
I'm not going to tell you any more than that, though. Don't want to give too much away, you know. I will add that my editor at Ellora's Cave told me she got so caught up in the story, she completely forgot she was reading a submission!
Now that you know the story behind the story, I think I'll tease you with an excerpt. Enjoy!
BLURB:
Almost getting murdered by a serial killer gives Cassidy Kincaide a new lease on life and convinces her to go ahead and tackle that ghost-hunter novel she's always wanted to write. So, she hooks up with a gorgeous paranormal investigator named Trace McCord to do some research.
Cassidy and Trace rub each other the wrong way right from the beginning, but they have to put aside their differences when the serial killer who attacked her comes back from the grave to continue his string of grisly murders, with her at the top of his list.
Trace has to keep Cassidy close to keep her safe, and as they try to stay one step ahead of the ghost while figuring out how to stop it, he and Cassidy end up in each other’s arms. While Trace has a whole list of reasons why he shouldn’t get involved with her, he finds himself falling in love with the beautiful blonde anyway. And even though Cassidy started out thinking he was a jerk, she learns that underneath the rough ghost hunter exterior, he’s just the man she’s always been looking for. Now, all they have to do, is live long enough to be together.
EXCERPT:
Trace was only a few miles from the address Robert had given him for Cassidy when his cell phone rang. At first he wasn’t going to answer it, but some sixth sense made him change his mind. Now he was glad he had.
He was about to disconnect the call when he heard a muffled scream on the other end of the line. It was quickly followed by a loud clatter, then nothing.
“Cassidy!”
No answer.
Trace felt his chest tighten. Swearing under his breath, he shoved his cell phone in the pocket of his jeans and floored the pedal on the Hummer, running a red light to get through the intersection. The other drivers honked their horns as they squealed to a stop, but he ignored them. There was no way he was going to let Cassidy die.
Five minutes later, he slid into the parking lot outside her apartment, running over an ornamental fence and a flower bed to come to a screeching halt a few feet from the front door. Jumping out of the Hummer, he ran around to the back and grabbed his duffel bag full of gear. Throwing it over his shoulder, he raced up the steps and charged through the door into the building, scaring the hell out of two women carrying laundry baskets.
“Where the hell are the stairs?” he demanded, not wanting to waste time with the elevator.
The women timidly pointed around the corner.
Trace didn’t thank them as he ran in that direction. He hit the steps hard, taking them hree at a time. Once on the fourth floor, he ran down the hall, checking the room numbers on he doors. When he came to the right one, he didn’t even bother to slow down. Instead, he icked the door in as hard as he could, reaching into his bag for his shotgun as the frame plintered and the door flew open.
He looked left and right as he entered the apartment, but there was no sign of Cassidy or el Vecchio. Trace’s blood ran cold at the scene that met his eyes. The living room looked s if a cyclone hit it. The couch and throw pillows were sliced to shreds, stuffing still floating hrough the air. The coffee table was lying on its side, as were the two end tables, and the amps that had been on them were smashed to pieces along with practically everything ele in the place. Even the walls had been slashed.
“Cassidy?” Trace called.
“In here.”
Trace followed the sound of her voice until he came to the kitchen. Cassidy was standing in the center of the room inside a wobbly drawn circle of salt, ready to throw a handful of something in his face. She sagged with relief at the sight of him, letting the stuff in her hand trickle out onto the floor. That was when he realized she was holding a big container of oregano.
“Is he gone?” she whispered.
Trace nodded. “Yeah, he’s gone. But I’m getting you the hell out of here anyway.”
He didn’t wait for an answer, but simply slung the shotgun over his shoulder by the strap, then walked into the kitchen and swung Cassidy up in his arms.
She put one of her own around his neck. “Is it safe for me to leave the circle?”
“Yes. I’ll keep you safe. Trust me.”
Apparently she must have believed him because she didn’t resist. She cuddled the container of oregano close to her body and leaned against his chest.
He frowned. “Cassidy, you did great with the salt circle. It saved your life without a doubt. But what are you doing with the oregano?”
She looked up at him with big, blue eyes. “Isn’t it what you used to get rid of ghosts?”
His mouth twitched. “That’s sage and garlic. You can ditch the spaghetti spice.”
“Oh,” was all she said. Resting her head on his shoulder, she let the container of oregano tumble to the floor, then put that arm around his neck, too.
Giving the place one more look to make sure Del Vecchio hadn’t come back, Trace carried her out of the apartment and right passed the alarmed neighbors who had come out into the hallway to see what the ruckus was all about. Trace imagined they got their money’s worth seeing a big guy with a shotgun and a duffel bag slung over his shoulder carrying a beautiful half-naked woman in his arms. He abruptly realized he probably should have taken a few minutes to let Cassidy grab some clothes. But then the lights in the hallway flickered and he decided he could get her clothes later. They were getting the hell out of there.
“Is she being kidnapped?” one elderly woman asked another in a low voice as he and Cassidy passed them.
“If she is,” said the other old woman, “then I want to want to be kidnapped next.”
Any other time, Trace would have laughed, but right now all he wanted to do was get Cassidy someplace safe. Fortunately, he knew exactly where to take her.
Watch the Trailer Here!
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=F7c6DgZ-fHs
Get your copy of GHOST HUNTER at Ellora's Cave!
http://www.jasminejade.com/p-9148-ghost-hunter.aspx
http://www.jasminejade.com/m-615-paige-tyler.aspx
*hugs*
Paige
I love when I come up with an idea for a book out of the blue, which is what happened with GHOST HUNTER. When I heard my local RWA chapter set up a lecture with a team of paranormal investigators, it got me thinking right away about writing a book about a ghost hunter. Because the chapter is far from where we live, though, we didn't actually go to the lecture. I was a little bummed about that, especially since they were giving out EMF detectors. On second thought, maybe it was better we didn't go. Ghosts freak me out, so having something that can detect them probably wouldn't be a good idea.
Enough about me, back to the story behind the story. While I knew the hero was a ghost hunter named Trace, I wasn't quite sure how the heroine fit into the story, or even who she was. So, my hubby and I played around with a few ideas at our local PF Chang's (we come up with a lot of story ideas there!) We both decided that having the heroine Cassidy need the hero's help because her house was haunted or something like that didn't seem original enough, so we made her a budding romance writer who tags along with the hero and his team to do some research. Like any good story, though, it had to have some conflict, which is why Trace and Cassidy completely rub each other the wrong way right from the beginning. Actually, he thinks he's a jerk. But don't worry, Cassidy discovers underneath that rough ghost hunter exterior, Trace is just the man she's been looking for. It doesn't hurt that he's hot!
Okay, so we had our hero and heroine. Now we needed a bad guy. That's where the ghost comes in. He's not your standard, everyday ghost, though. He's a serial killer who attacked Cassidy that comes back from the grrave to continue his string of grisly murders, and she's at the top of his list. To make things even more interesting, not only can he do all the regualar ghostly stuff like walk through walls and materialize out of thin air, he can also take solid form.
I'm not going to tell you any more than that, though. Don't want to give too much away, you know. I will add that my editor at Ellora's Cave told me she got so caught up in the story, she completely forgot she was reading a submission!
Now that you know the story behind the story, I think I'll tease you with an excerpt. Enjoy!
BLURB:
Almost getting murdered by a serial killer gives Cassidy Kincaide a new lease on life and convinces her to go ahead and tackle that ghost-hunter novel she's always wanted to write. So, she hooks up with a gorgeous paranormal investigator named Trace McCord to do some research.
Cassidy and Trace rub each other the wrong way right from the beginning, but they have to put aside their differences when the serial killer who attacked her comes back from the grave to continue his string of grisly murders, with her at the top of his list.
Trace has to keep Cassidy close to keep her safe, and as they try to stay one step ahead of the ghost while figuring out how to stop it, he and Cassidy end up in each other’s arms. While Trace has a whole list of reasons why he shouldn’t get involved with her, he finds himself falling in love with the beautiful blonde anyway. And even though Cassidy started out thinking he was a jerk, she learns that underneath the rough ghost hunter exterior, he’s just the man she’s always been looking for. Now, all they have to do, is live long enough to be together.
EXCERPT:
Trace was only a few miles from the address Robert had given him for Cassidy when his cell phone rang. At first he wasn’t going to answer it, but some sixth sense made him change his mind. Now he was glad he had.
He was about to disconnect the call when he heard a muffled scream on the other end of the line. It was quickly followed by a loud clatter, then nothing.
“Cassidy!”
No answer.
Trace felt his chest tighten. Swearing under his breath, he shoved his cell phone in the pocket of his jeans and floored the pedal on the Hummer, running a red light to get through the intersection. The other drivers honked their horns as they squealed to a stop, but he ignored them. There was no way he was going to let Cassidy die.
Five minutes later, he slid into the parking lot outside her apartment, running over an ornamental fence and a flower bed to come to a screeching halt a few feet from the front door. Jumping out of the Hummer, he ran around to the back and grabbed his duffel bag full of gear. Throwing it over his shoulder, he raced up the steps and charged through the door into the building, scaring the hell out of two women carrying laundry baskets.
“Where the hell are the stairs?” he demanded, not wanting to waste time with the elevator.
The women timidly pointed around the corner.
Trace didn’t thank them as he ran in that direction. He hit the steps hard, taking them hree at a time. Once on the fourth floor, he ran down the hall, checking the room numbers on he doors. When he came to the right one, he didn’t even bother to slow down. Instead, he icked the door in as hard as he could, reaching into his bag for his shotgun as the frame plintered and the door flew open.
He looked left and right as he entered the apartment, but there was no sign of Cassidy or el Vecchio. Trace’s blood ran cold at the scene that met his eyes. The living room looked s if a cyclone hit it. The couch and throw pillows were sliced to shreds, stuffing still floating hrough the air. The coffee table was lying on its side, as were the two end tables, and the amps that had been on them were smashed to pieces along with practically everything ele in the place. Even the walls had been slashed.
“Cassidy?” Trace called.
“In here.”
Trace followed the sound of her voice until he came to the kitchen. Cassidy was standing in the center of the room inside a wobbly drawn circle of salt, ready to throw a handful of something in his face. She sagged with relief at the sight of him, letting the stuff in her hand trickle out onto the floor. That was when he realized she was holding a big container of oregano.
“Is he gone?” she whispered.
Trace nodded. “Yeah, he’s gone. But I’m getting you the hell out of here anyway.”
He didn’t wait for an answer, but simply slung the shotgun over his shoulder by the strap, then walked into the kitchen and swung Cassidy up in his arms.
She put one of her own around his neck. “Is it safe for me to leave the circle?”
“Yes. I’ll keep you safe. Trust me.”
Apparently she must have believed him because she didn’t resist. She cuddled the container of oregano close to her body and leaned against his chest.
He frowned. “Cassidy, you did great with the salt circle. It saved your life without a doubt. But what are you doing with the oregano?”
She looked up at him with big, blue eyes. “Isn’t it what you used to get rid of ghosts?”
His mouth twitched. “That’s sage and garlic. You can ditch the spaghetti spice.”
“Oh,” was all she said. Resting her head on his shoulder, she let the container of oregano tumble to the floor, then put that arm around his neck, too.
Giving the place one more look to make sure Del Vecchio hadn’t come back, Trace carried her out of the apartment and right passed the alarmed neighbors who had come out into the hallway to see what the ruckus was all about. Trace imagined they got their money’s worth seeing a big guy with a shotgun and a duffel bag slung over his shoulder carrying a beautiful half-naked woman in his arms. He abruptly realized he probably should have taken a few minutes to let Cassidy grab some clothes. But then the lights in the hallway flickered and he decided he could get her clothes later. They were getting the hell out of there.
“Is she being kidnapped?” one elderly woman asked another in a low voice as he and Cassidy passed them.
“If she is,” said the other old woman, “then I want to want to be kidnapped next.”
Any other time, Trace would have laughed, but right now all he wanted to do was get Cassidy someplace safe. Fortunately, he knew exactly where to take her.
Watch the Trailer Here!
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=F7c6DgZ-fHs
Get your copy of GHOST HUNTER at Ellora's Cave!
http://www.jasminejade.com/p-9148-ghost-hunter.aspx
http://www.jasminejade.com/m-615-paige-tyler.aspx
*hugs*
Paige
"Stories so hot, they'll make your cheeks blush!"
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