Foraging for Food: Skills for an AI Future

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Excerpt from MAGA Bigfoot

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CHAPTER 8 FOOD SOURCE

As I believe I have mentioned earlier, I happen to live in a community predominantly composed of Amish families. I mention this because the Amish do very well in life without televisions, smart phones and the many other trappings of the Internet Age. As a group, the Amish are thriving because their free time is spent creating life affirming projects that are a great benefit to the local community. You’ll never find them gorging on the nonsense disseminated by the corporate news demigods. Another thing near and dear to my heart is their intimate connection to nature and the land. They are excellent caretakers of the earth through their good farming practices. Regenerative and organic farming will be paramount to our survival in the near future, especially in the aftermath of what I will coin as “The Coming AI Apocalypse”. My Bigfoot Guardian has warned me that artificial intelligence is rapidly positioning itself as the final straw that will break the Internet’s back.

Be prepared to grow your own food. This is something you should be doing anyway. Your future and your physical health depend on it. The cells of our bodies harmonize with the cells of organically raised and produced foods both plant and animal. On the other hand, genetically modified foods can cause a multitude of discordant disruptions inside the cells. These disruptions then foster disease, yet these GMOs are now the main staple on our grocery store shelves. Take a serious look at how these genetically modified foods are being developed and mass produced on corporate farms. They are not produced for the benefit of the consumer, but for the profitability of the corporations that own them. All you have to do is look at these corporation’s profit driven farming practices to understand their motivations.

Let me tickle you with a miracle in a shell. It is called a chicken egg. On our farm, our hens are happy. They lay fertile eggs that are capable of producing another such miracle called a baby chick. That chick grows into a happy chicken that in turn lays more eggs that hatch into chicks. They grow up to be happy chickens as well. That is not how it works in the corporate offices of New York City. There, these miracles in a shell are turned into a commodity. The eggs are mass produced by chickens imprisoned in twelve by twelve inch cages. Like Guantanamo Bay inmates confined to their pens, they can barely move. They spend their whole life in that little wire box, laying infertile eggs until they can’t lay anymore. Then they are brutally yanked from their cages by their brittle little legs. You can hear and feel their bones break. Some die right then and there. Those that don’t, along with those that do, are then stuffed into gunny sacks for shipment to the slaughterhouse. From there, they are processed and wrapped in plastic, then shipped off to McDonald’s, Wendy’s or any of a number of other corporate fast food enterprises. All the chicken eggs have been retained, counted, and recorded for sale by accountants in Manhattan. None of the egg counters have ever seen a chicken lay an egg, they are simply a part of the corporate assembly line.

So what are some immediate actions we can take to disarm such abusive practices?

Buy locally! Help support locally owned and operated farms. They should be valued and looked upon as lifeblood for you and your community. They will be a vital necessity to our survival after the coming AI Apocalypse. In the present, small farms and home gardens are important in raising the health and well being of the population as a whole. As the MAGA Bigfoot often state, “Observe the obvious and act accordingly.”

For fun and your own benefit, I would suggest you take a ride sometime and peruse that part of the country devoted to farming and food production. You will most likely see dilapidated and abandoned farm houses. The small farmers that once owned and operated them, have been forced out of business by corporate farm practices. Their farmland then got gobbled up by corporations along with China who is now a big player in this land grab. The small farms once regenerative practices have now been obliterated and transformed into huge receptacles for chemical fertilizers and toxic pesticides. Production of GMO crops and abusive farm animal practices are now the standard of the day. Don’t take my word for it, go look for yourself.

In the end, GMOs, pesticides and other toxic chemicals end up on our plates. These corporate monsters remain unchecked and are contaminating our precious water supplies and poisoning the whole food chain ecosystem. Growing our own safe and nutritious food is one surefire weapon we can deploy against this growing empire. Fortunately, we still have a vibrant seed bank to supply our home gardens and small farms.

Another valuable asset to have in our arsenal of survival skills is foraging. Foraging for food has been something my family and I have practiced for generations. It is both rewarding and fun, as well as essential for anyone seriously looking to weather the coming AI armageddon. Learning what nature has to offer in the form of fruits, herbs, roots, mushrooms, etc., is quite the life affirming experience in itself. Within just a few miles of our home we can forage and secure a diverse store that can supply us through the winter.

Another form of foraging is the collecting of useful items that can come in handy in a pinch. I look for discarded and abandoned items with a creative eye. It’s not always what you find that is important, it is what it can become. Random pieces of metal can be turned into a stove or maybe even a chair. A gnarled piece of driftwood can be turned into a lovely lamp or a wall hanging. Lots of things speak to me of what they can become, that’s the miracle of abundance. Manifest wise—intend and you shall receive.

So turn off your TVs and smart phones. Step outside, take a deep breath and get your hands dirty. Participate with your heart and soul in the proper growing of nourishing food. Build your own flourishing and prospering reality.

I am certain that we can, and will overcome.

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The Vision and Sanctuary

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Seeds

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At sunrise

came Walking Tree

bearing the fruits

of life, the gifts

from generations

of the divine.

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I am honored

to receive,

and I am blessed

to give

the knowledge

of the earth

and skies.

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I bequeath

the sun’s liniment

and the tree’s

shredded bark

for healing.

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I bow

in my thankfulness.

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I bring seeds

from the future

that exists in

the generous,

*

in the vision

and the sowing

of the precious

*

from the beginning

and the end of night.

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Richard Rensberry, Author of “Sanctuary”, to coming to Amazon Books in the Autumn of 2026

Brain Drain, Science Fiction?

I recently went to the doctor and was diagnosed with having a swollen brain. She said I needed immediate surgery to reduce the pressure. I said, “Okay”, I was all for a little pressure release valve or a brain drain. They shaved my head and strapped me in, down and around. The only things left movable were my eyes and just to irk me they stuck a mirror in front of those. With a little laser pointer the doctor showed me the ridge on which (x) marked the planned drill site. My skull was a multicolored globe stuck full of probes and wires. I looked like an angry Medusa. I was also surrounded by a dozen or so little TV screens on which I could see and hear myself think. Did you know that swear words have a different frequency than thinking of ice cream? They do. They sound similar to a car with bad valves. They got me a dirty look from the anesthesiologist.
What I hate the most about anesthesia is that when they put me under I don’t think coherently or dream. It is not exactly a blind nothingness because I could sense a dull pressure and discern a sound like rasping sandpaper. It felt as if I were swollen all over and I had contracted a new disease called brainspread. I wasn’t being drained, but buttered. Then I had to puke but nothing worked. I had no puke muscles. It was weird, but I didn’t feel bodied or disembodied. Where the hell did I go? Purgatory?
That’s about the time you start to come out of it. I felt thankful and not thankful at all. My brain was completely and utterly numbfounded. Even though I couldn’t puke I had a need to regurgitate my every thought because I couldn’t talk. My tongue was glued down. My eyelids wouldn’t move out of the way of my orbs or maybe they cut the wrong nerve and I was blind. I didn’t want to be blind. I felt like I wanted to panic, but I couldn’t do that either. I couldn’t find my panic button. They had unhooked my brain and I didn’t have a conduit to my body. Maybe they had stollen my brain. I was pretty intelligent, but then again I was also a smart ass. I wouldn’t put it past them to usurp my brain for ulterior motives. Or maybe I was just dead.
When the first wave of pain hit me I was certain I wasn’t dead. After the fifth or sixth one, I wanted to be. My whole head felt like a massive toothache. I was suffering from a bad brain abscess. I had agreed to the damn operation at the outset because I needed my brain reduced not enlarged. Maybe that was the reason I couldn’t see, my eyeballs had popped out of their sockets. On top of all that, there was some cocksucker screaming at the top of his lungs. I wanted to shove a suck in his mouth. That was when something clicked inside my battered head. I closed my mouth. The screams stopped. My eyelids finally popped open.
There was a small table beside the bed with my laptop on it. Beside it sat a pitcher of water with ice cube remnants and a green plastic cup. It dawned on me just how utterly thirsty I was. My throat was parched and sore from all the screaming. I sat up. I was expecting nausea and pain but I felt nothing but the usual tingle behind my right ear. I was going to be okay after all. I had simply had a nasty nightmare.
I poured a glass of water and soothed my parched tongue. I lifted the USB cable that was attached to my laptop and plugged it into the USB port behind my right ear. The tingling stopped. I hit download and went back to sleep.

 

Richard Rensberry, Author at QuickTurtle Books®

Are Artists the Tuning Fork of Society?

Wake painting
I believe cultures resonate to the vibrations artists create and instill upon their work. Author’s words carry the weight of their focal points. This focus can help or harm the society into which their creations permeate.

As an example, a comedian stands in front of a community and pokes fun not at everyone in general but at a select group of people. The vibration moves and resonates with like seeds of prejudice harbored by his audience and grows. Soon we have ill feelings being expressed against a select group of people. Good or bad? Continue reading

A Soul For Some Lemons

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     My soul mate, Mary and I, like to plant and grow things, especially things we can eat.  We currently have several small lemon trees started from seed growing in pots.  These are organic lemons, lemons full of happiness and bright sunshine.

     I watch over each tree from blossom to fruit.  I have a growing knowledge and awareness of their everyday existence.  I can go so far as to say I know each tree’s lemons as individuals and small groups congregating on various limbs.  When there should be seven on a tree it does not escape me if I find only six or three or even one. Continue reading