Das Glasperienspiel

I have been using this model for research and interface since 2004:

The Glass Bead Game

Islam is signal, symbol and code.

Words spoken reside under clouds of thoughts pregnant with meaning.

The beads laid out between the players are Qutbian with civilizational stones

and milestones.

I play a red. You counter with a red.

I move the opaque to the center of the table. You counter with the same.

The black stone.  It is the stone which must be played last.

The Bandits of Land Management Continue to Oppress Texas Families

When are we going to say “Enough!”

Here are my two articles from when I worked for Daily Times Pakistan:

The Bundy Ranch Standoff: Darkness

The Bundy Ranch Standoff: Greater Darkness

The right to private ownership of property is one of our strongest anchors to freedom.

Throw in the right to bear arms and the right to a free press.


Breaking News: Senator Tim Kaine

The news has been under a mandated embargo since Tuesday, August 16th.  But the words of United States Senator Tim Kaine (D- Virginia) are apparently a pre-framed monologue for the announcement released today.

Anne  Holton (wife of Senator Kaine) will be moving to Pakistan next month.  As the Secretary of Education for the state of Virginia she will put her talents to work for the little girls of the nation.

Less than eighteen percent of little girls in Pakistan attend secondary education.  Forty-seven percent of the women are either fully or functionally illiterate. Value is not ascribed for the education of women. And as Islamic political forces continue to push for legal marriage at age nine years for little girls the outlook remains grim.

After receiving her Bachelor of Fine Arts from NYU Tisch School of the Arts in 2017, Annella Kaine will put her talents to work to introduce little girls in Pakistan to the world of theater and music. She will join her mother, living along the Durand Line, to further facilitate a modest reach into Afghanistan and the Islamic culture which forbids a full embrace of the expressive art forms which we enjoy in the West.

Anne and Annella will face grave physical danger and the very real risk of sexual violence since Pakistan ranks third on a global list for most dangerous countries for women.

In anticipation for their need for invisibility whilst residing along the borders of two nations which cherish diminished physical presence of women in the public square a personal shopper has graciously purchased culturally acceptable fashion for Anne and her daughter Annella:

Shuttlecock Burka and Mandatory Purdah

Those of us who burned our bras,  received university degrees and served as Naval military officers applaud Senator Tim Kaine for his clarity of thought.  We also extend our deepest respect for his willingness to put his money where his mouth is.  (Yes, I ended a sentence in a linking verb, but I am fully literate, educated, enjoy a career and am currently seated at my desktop in  skimpy pajamas.)

Our prayers are not needed for Anne and Annella. They are getting a civilizational upgrade. No doubt about it. Senator Kaine would not use statistics to serve up a greater lie. Or would he?

Senator Kaine’s remarks regarding Women’s Rights in the West

Sharing the thoughts of a professional colleague

Today I opened my email to read the latest post from Allen Clark. Trust me when I tell you that any individual who buys me  a meal at this restaurant is a “forever friend”. smile

If you need a cholesterol boost!

Allen Clark is a remarkable man.  He tells a funny story about his prosthetic devices. Each time he was ready to be fitted with his new “legs” he would ask them to add about an inch. He is now officially “taller” than when he went to Vietnam.

Allen and his wife are lovely Christians.  They are gracious and kind – bearing the distinct marks of our Savior within their character and manner of living. It is my pleasure to share a post from the “Avalon Chronicles”.  Also included is a link to Mr. Allen’s organization.

Combat Faith

Fifty years ago in August 1966 I was deployed to South Vietnam to serve my country in our effort to preserve freedom from communism for that troubled land. My assignment as a prisoner of war interrogator was unfulfilling as no prisoners made it to my military intelligence detachment located in Nha Trang, the Riviera of South Vietnam. It would have been a comfortable and safe war for me as I enjoyed Nha Trang’s beautiful beach every day, when I finished my daily duties. A chance encounter with fellow West Pointer, Lieutenant Colonel Lee Parmly (class of 1946), on a plane motivated me to a probable much more satisfying and rewarding opportunity by transferring to his unit of the Army’s Special Forces (the Green Berets), also headquartered in Nha Trang. As occurs sometimes, my orders were changed from his unit to that of Detachment B-57 of Special Forces, a newly-formed clandestine organization headquartered in the capitol, Saigon, where I was required to be clothed in civilian apparel and to store my military uniforms. That led to an incredibly exciting tour of duty, encompassing debriefing a defector from Cambodia (who was later murdered with his case making the front page of the New York Times), residing in safe houses as I trained young Cambodian anti-communists for helicopter infiltration missions on the border, and eventual assignment in the spring of 1967 to an isolated Special Forces camp in what was called the “Tri-Border” area, where South Vietnam, Laos, and Cambodia come together.
Cambodia was targeted by the United States because it was a supposed “neutral” country in which  Chief of State Sihanouk acquiesced to allowing the North Vietnamese Army, after their travels down the Ho Cho Minh Trail, to establish base camps from which they attacked our troops and the South Vietnamese, and then retreated to the safety of their sanctuaries. He probably did it out of fear for his personal safety, if not for political belief.
At Dak To I was an infantry captain under cover with an assumed name with a mission, through a Vietnamese interpreter and a Montagnard mercenary, to recruit other Montagnards, the mountain natives of the rugged triple canopy jungle area, to travel through the jungle toward Cambodia to collect intelligence on enemy bases and activities. My mission was nearly impossible as it was a fifteen mile trek to the border through what I discovered later was the most heavily populated enemy positions possibly in the country in underground supply points, hospitals, and base camps. In early June 1967 my Vietnamese interpreter informed me that one of our “agents” had informed his village chief that he was to be paid for his mission by someone in the Special Forces camp. My mission had been “compromised” and I was at risk of being targeted when I made my frequent visits to neighboring villages. This was an example at the lowest tactical level of a “compromised” spying operation. My operation actually was closed down a few days later because one of those North Vietnamese Army units from Cambodia attacked our camp in an intense mortar barrage on June 17, 1967 in which I was wounded, losing both my legs below the knee from heavy shrapnel wounds.

With my background in Army intelligence it has always spurred on my interest in reading spy stories. The world of spying at the higher strategic level, way above where I had been, is pregnant with individuals and operations being compromised, sometimes due to agents being revealed and sometimes to moral problems of either the agents or their “handlers” due to disloyalty or being desirous of intrigue, money, substance abuse or illicit romantic escapades.
When a compromise occurs, there is a breaking down of a commitment and obligation to perform as expected to fulfill the “handler’s” mission for their country, etc. or for that of the agent. As an Army officer I took very seriously my loyalty to my country and my mission to be disciplined to perform my duties. Many missions are aborted or compromised due to alcohol or drug abuse, corruption in handling of the monies involved for paying agents, or inappropriate romantic activities in an arena that lends itself to immorality.
Even when we accept Jesus Christ as Savior and thereby become a committed “Christian”, we are forever tempted, as we enter the next level of faith, the “Lordship” phase of our faith walk, to compromise ourselves with disloyalty to our principles, those we love, and ultimately in each case to our Lord with sins, big and little. Our self with its attendant pride becomes preeminent in guiding us to forego what we know to be appropriate behavior. One of the most important aspects of the Christian faith is that we can be returned to “friendly territory” after entering “enemy territory” by sincere repentance and confession of our sins in the Name of Jesus. We reenter the friendly lines for our safety and peace. Just as I was loyal to my country, we must be loyal to our Father, His Son, and the Holy Spirit with righteous living. If there is a final judgment in Heaven and I believe there will be, we should all hope it is short because we maintained our loyalty to our faith and our principles
We must praise our Lord for His mercy, grace, and love that endures forever. It should be the ultimate motivator for our righteous behavior in our earthly life.

In Honor of the Dead

I write in honor of the dead,

Proposing, as I do, to describe their wars,

For we who have abjured mere power

Descry in liberty of speech

Capabilities beyond the skills of genius.

Our prayer wheels twirl upon the mountain wind,


Poems are the ruins of experience,

the skeletons of meaning, but

What is said is seed.

I am the alpha and the beta,

The ensorcelling verb

And amid the clatter of those spinning prayers

I stand upon a mute titanic shoulder

Pretending I can lift the lustrous sky.


A billion years has shaped

The opening and the closing of an eye.

But how could fractured genes create

The answering mate?  Sex is the autograph of God.

Passion trembles on the page of worship.

Silence is quickened by the fertile word.


The pederasts have it all wrong.

The lesbians have it all wrong.

The Buddhists have it all wrong.

Pure spasm fails.  The genuine requires complement.

Dichotomies enfold the song

That opens for us the monstrous land of love.


Dr. Benjamin Michael Carter