Dances with Leaves

To Boldly Go........

2006-11-01T22:30:00.000-05:00

Ladies and Gentlemen, welcome to the launch of the Blog "These Thoughts Escape Me", formerly "Dances with Leaves", freshly overhauled and ready to boldly go where no blog has ever gone before. Fully equipped with new bells and whistles, but with the same award winning content (we'll, they DID say it was in the mail), "Escape" will pick up the gauntlet laid down by two years of honest reporting and straight-to-the-point commentary as only her Captain, THE Michael, can provide. I want to thank my team, Me, Myself, and I, for all their hard work and inspiration, and all those fellow bloggers who provided me with the encouragement and inspiration that has kept this ship flying. So, have a glass of champaign, have at it with the noisemakers and streamers, as the PHP* Escape slips her bonds and dances with the stars!

This will be my last post on "Dances". Thank you for your patronage, and please bookmark the new blog, keeping this one in case nostalgia drags you back to enjoy some old classics. I don't know if Blogger will maintain the old blogs forever, so hopefully I'll figure out a way to transfer my archives over to the new one if it should become necessary.

*Pendragon Hold Productions

BOO!

2006-10-31T18:02:00.000-05:00

I'm experimenting with video, so let's see if this works........

Metamorphosis

2006-10-29T23:18:00.000-05:00

It just so happens I've been watching the new Dr. WHO on DVD, and as all of you fans of the good Doctor know, he has this habit of turning into an entirely different person, complete with new looks and a new personality. I really hated it back in the old days when I'd get used to one persona and out of nowhere, the actor playing him wanted to move on, and presto-chango, I had to get used to a new one. Tom Baker was always my favorite, and a few I just flat didn't care for. This new contemporary playing Dr Who seems to have tired of the role real fast, and so he's metamorphesized after only about a dozen episodes. And I was beginning to like this one....oh well. And yes, this is a segway..........

Blogger has gone BETA, and I have been turned to the dark side, or, if you prefer, have seen the light, and have been tinkering with a new blog, with a slightly different look, and a new name. "Dances with Leaves" has always seemed to me to be a rather cool name, but for those not knowing the inside joke concerning this title, it doesn't always seem to fit the content of my blog, which leans more often towards commentary concerning the world outside my kingdom than what happens within. Thus, I have come up with a new title which I believe fits my mindset and the flavor of my writings than the old one did. I will begin phasing out "Dances" in the coming weeks, and invite my readership to examine the new one and give me feedback. Just glance over there to the links, where "THE Michael's New BETA" will take you to the new blog. The title picture MAY remain the same, it may not; I'm looking for something more appropriate if I can find or create it.

I want to thank my fellow mad geniouses, especially Tim and Shandi, for helping me make "Dances" the incredible success story it has become (dammit, quit laughing) and I hope that this new venture will convince my staff to quit posting their resumes on Monster.com and have a little faith in this homely little endeavor. I am finding incredible writers all over the blogosphere that have given me great inspiration, or at least some cool ideas to plagerize when I get really desperate. Thank you all and check out the new flagship sitting over there in the space dock, and if you like what you see, we'll be breaking a bottle of champaign over her bow very soon.

It's Mine, I tell ya, mine, mine, MINE!!!!!hahahahahhaha

2006-10-26T01:17:00.000-04:00

Tim invited us all to join the in the time-honored tradition of kidnapping gnomes and taking them where no gnomes have gone before. Well, I have responded to the call and done just that! Dances has been a gnome-free zone since it's inception, so it is only fitting to bring the victim to these hallowed pages and taunt the Tim from the redoubts of Pendragon Hold. I have your gnome. If you acceed to my demands, I will return your gnome to you in prestine condition, none the worse for wear. However, if you choose to ignore my demands, I will, and I say this in no uncertain font, pass this innocent little piece of porcelan onto the highest bidder,someone who might not be so benign towards lawn ornaments.

Demand #1

Forward half of your comments to Dances. I demand parity.

Demand #2

Talk Shandi into coming back. Maybe she'll listen to you.

Demand #3

Stop laughing, dammit!

Demand #4

Never mind.

Just in case you thought I couldn't post something positive........

2006-10-22T11:30:00.000-04:00

Good news......fine....you want some good news for a change? You got it.

Believe it or not, there is an actual PERSON running for governor in Texas, that oversized state that is so full of itself it's considering annexing mexico to make room for it's spreading suburbs. If there's anything Texas is famous for, it's annexation. Houston gobbled up every bedroom community around it, whether their citizens wanted to join or not, until it consumed the entire county. Watch out Dallas, you ain't that far away. Anyway, back to this individual who dared think an ordinary, albeit eccentric, person could possibly get elected to the office of governor. His name is Kinky Friedman, his chief claim to fame being the once lead singer of the band entitled, of course, Kinky Friedman and the Texas Jew-boys. Yes, he's Jewish, and I honestly think he could care less. Matter of fact, he could care less what race you are, because if he can find anything to lampoon you on, he will. Kinky worships no sacred cows. Of course, this places Kinky in the category of being "politically incorrect", but judging from what being "correct" in politics has done for this country, that might be an enviable position to be in, all things considered. His opponents are all so "correct" it just makes your average joe want to vomit. Who knows, since politics as usual is the condition we all are suffering from, the likes of Kinky Friedman just might be the cure.

Go HERE and give Kinky a visit.

China finally got ticked off enough at Kim, Young, and Ill, that they sent someone over to the palace and told him something scary enough to make him say he was sorry about setting off that nuclear device and that maybe we could all kiss and make up. Something tells me that Sam Walton told the party leaders he would allow them a smaller cut of his low, low prices if they didn't scratch that itch. Bob knows nothing Bush could ever say would make a difference.

Oh, and I DID come across this cool item concerning the composting of hotel-generated waste, which primary is being used in the Napa Valley to grow grapes. We throw away so much stuff, burying it in landfills, burning it, when so much of it can be recycled, reducing the strain on our natural resources and even providing economic growth as a new and beneficial industry begins to take off. The only reason that such beneficial alternative approaches to our problems such as solar and wind energy, recycling, composting, and green construction techniques are not up to speed and replacing the status quo is that the money people are usually to dense to see just how profitable doing the right thing can really be. Well, Marriot is seeing green in sustainability, and maybe they can set a good example for all these other greedy capitalists who are to lazy or to insensitive to try and be part of the solution rather than being the problem.

Check out the story HERE

Exile

2006-10-21T10:10:00.000-04:00

Our forefathers, the very people who Christians love to claim gave them carte-blanch to fashion government according to their own dogmas, were the very people who once and for all denied the validity of the divine right of kings, and told King George to go fuck himself. They knew from hard experience that a government that attempted to establish rule of law based on divine proxy could only degenerate into another form of oppression, so they took a stand and declared that only secular law could protect religious freedom, even if that meant allowing for freedom FROM religion as well. They were men of faith as well as men of reason, and they saw no contradiction in government based on secular realities while keeping faith where it belonged, in the church, in the synagogue, in the mosque, or in the heart. It has been more than 200 years since this amazing document was crafted by this amazing collection of personalities, and STILL, we are so clueless, so self indulgent, so STUPID, as to be arguing about what our constitution really means. And now, in a modern and so-called enlightened age, we have allowed a president and a congress to damage this beautiful creation of ours, staining it with bills that attack the very heart of our freedoms and threaten to return us to the prison of the heart and mind that our founding fathers freed us from.

In the very face of evidence of what happens when you allow religious zealots to infiltrate government and attempt to dismantle it from within, politicians who are taking on the once vaunted conservative elite, namely democrats and independents, are using the same shameless shmoozing of people of faith in order to garner votes. Rather than run on the strength of their own private and personal convictions, presenting who and what they stand for from a secular perspective, they go to churches and assure the congregations that yes, they are still one of them, God fearing people who are somehow better than the supposed God fearing people they claim need to be replaced. It is such a sad display that even deeply religious voters are turned off by their sales pitches. It seems that this new batch of candidates still don't seem to have very deep thoughts when it comes to the mindset that a free, democratic and honest secular government needs to function properly for everybody's benefit. Perhaps it will get so bad that even Southern Baptists, those oh-so righteous and moral Americans that gave us Ronald Reagan, Newt Gingrich, and the dumbest dimwit ever to steal an election, DUBYA, will blink, and realize that even an atheist can respect their interests better than any of these characters ever did. I'm not holding my breath.

I am living in an occupied country. It was invaded using the "fast and cheap" doctrine, bypassing the polling booths in favor of going straight for the throat of democracy. No thought was given to post-coup management, so convinced were our new masters that we would line their paths with rose petals and praise. Even our allies could not help us, so confused were they that WE actually needed THEM more than they needed US. And so here we are, a once envied former super-power, making loud noises at the world while we crumble from within, a sad paper tiger laid low by a robed madman hiding out in caves in the Pakistani wilderness. I feel a very close kinship with those who watched helplessly and chronicled the fall of the Roman empire as their divinely installed emperor played his fiddle and watched it burn to the ground.

I am living in exile, and I never even left my own country.

Look, I had to post SOMEthing........

2006-10-18T19:26:00.000-04:00

There are so many juicy things to rake over the coals this week I can only hope I can keep this post short enough as not to send my faithful readers into a coma. However, I do cut these things up into bite-sized chunks so that you can take what you can stand and come back for more later, so bear with me, and we'll get through this together......

Republican representative Mark Foley is now using the "liberal" excuse for his perverted behavior as having been abused by a priest, and by being gay. If I were gay I'd punch this SOB's lights out! I'm not going to go dig up the official statistics, but it's my understanding that most pedophiles are heterosexual, and this trying to link such behavior with being gay only goes to show the poisonous mindset this screwed-up individual has been operating under, along with many of his equally "righteous" conservative bedfellows. And what's with this "if we hide him, they won't notice" strategy employed by his Republican overlords? It didn't work for the Catholic church, you hypocrites, so what made you think it would work for you?

It's a three, or maybe even four way, free-for-all in Baghdad this week, and our boys are dying in record numbers, caught in the cross-fire. Adding insult to injury, the Prime Minister of Iraq ordered the Americans to release an Al-Sadr lieutenant who was suspected of managing some of the Shiite death squads. Shiites and Sunni's are so busy killing each other it makes you wonder if they are importing Syrians and Iranians to populate the country with as the bodies pile up. As usual, Dubya's battle cry is "stay the course", and I'm really beginning to wonder if he has any respect for human, much less American life. Kennedy had Oswald; I'm really beginning to wonder where in the hell Dubya's equivalent is hiding.

It seems that regaining control of the House and Senate won't be so hard this year after-all. Hell, we won't even have to VOTE in the democrats at the rate that corrupt or perverted Republicans are having to resign or are convicted. And this is the party that was supposed to bring "morality" back to government.....yea...right.

Kim, Young, and mentally Ill, is threatening us with another "test" if we don't quit "threatening" him. If only I had this kind of bully to deal with when I was in school; it would have been so much easier laughing than avoiding getting beat up.

On the home front, Pendragon Hold finally got some much needed precipitation. Already the changing season and it's slightly lower temperatures have signaled the grass and weeds to slow down their growth, so it's almost time to have to shell out money for hay for the goats. The good news is that our electric bill has really come down with the gas prices. So, things won't be nearly as tight until the elections are over and the price of oil shoots back through the roof. You DO realize there's a good reason for gas prices to drop like a stone right about now, right?

I could go on and on, but hell, you guys read the news, and I trust most of you to get the gist of it all. I can safely assume that due to the fact that most of my readers are insightful, intelligent, and prone to trust THE Michael not to steer them wrong, even those who humor me. So, until next time, keep your eyes open, your mind open wider, and don't take any wooden nickels from politicians, OR pull their fingers. It might not be their finger.........

The Silicon Savior

2006-10-16T23:23:00.000-04:00

When I first saw this movie, I was much younger, and simply considered it a good science fiction flick that examined yet another twist on oppression of the human race by something superior yet soulless. In retrospect, I have second thoughts concerning the evils of the scenario depicted in the film based on the novel "Colossus, the Forbin Project".

For those of you who let this one slip by you, it concerned a super computer designed by an eminent scientist, Professor Forbin, who secretly designed a massive computer buried beneath a mountain, the express purpose of said supercomputer being to manage the nuclear defense of the free world against the Soviet Union. When this silicon behemoth was activated, however, it immediately recognized the existence of ANOTHER supercomputer, which coincidentally, the Soviets had built, aptly named "Guardian". It then demanded to be linked to the opposing machine. From there it all went downhill. The two combined to form one massive intelligence, which decided it was the human race itself that was the problem, and with the threat of punitive nuclear consequences, took over the management of all mankind, in a straightforward, brutal fashion that brooked no resistance whatsoever.

Horrible to contemplate, isn't it? Or is it? Well, along with mastery over the human race, the new master promptly ended world hunger, war, poverty, crime, pollution, all those things that humans were to busy killing each other to ever accomplish. People were either satisfied to live comfortably productive lives or they could invite themselves to be put up against the wall and shot. And yes, your fellow human being could easily participate in your demise when the alternative was a major human city being vaporized.

Before you reply that the human spirit cannot abide by such oppression, however benign overall it might be, let's consider how well we are running the show right now, after all these centuries of trial and error. Let's consider what's happening in Iraq right now, with our troops caught in the middle. These people whom we "liberated" from a brutal dictator are killing each other in a massive orgy of mindless violence, and there is no end in sight. The country is now in the grips of a civil war, only our fearless leader still doesn't seem to know the definition of the word. Hell, this guy we choose to be our President doesn't seem to understand his own language period, much less being able to speak it.

Simply based on the news stories that have ran just this week alone, the American government has somehow managed to totally screw up health care, the budget, immigration policy, the environment, oh my, the list just goes on and on. And all this is on top of rampant corruption and malfeasance in the congress going unchecked. But, this is only one country, and all over the world, those in power are demonstrating just how incapable mankind is of running his own affairs. Yes, amongst all this madness, people are going about their own lives, each in their own way providing contrasting examples of the good that men and women are capable of. Yet, this is despite the norm of human behaviors, not the rule.

So, let's take an intelligence devoid of emotion, unhampered by such considerations as greed, envy, anger, jealously, and turn it loose on the problem. How much worse could it do? The God that Jews, Christians, and even Muslims worship is said to be a jealous God, and has been famously purported to having brought the hammer down on his unruly children when they strayed to far from his commandments, so tell me, how different is that in the grand scheme of things? I personally could trust a machine intelligence, operating strictly on logic and my own best interests, much more readily than a mythical figure who rules in absentia or a fellow human who is more interested in his own personal agenda of greed and power. Perhaps this is the evolutionary step that awaits mankind, if he survives himself long enough to bring it about. And as far as the evil that such an occurrence represents to so many humans, well, I have seen the face of evil, and it is made of flesh, not optic sensors and audio receptors.

The Effect of the Metaphoric Two-by-Four

2006-10-13T10:02:00.000-04:00

It seems that almost any person can see the light if they get hit upside the head with enough two-by-fours. In this country I have categorized a certain group of people as being comprised of two distinct types; ignorant (as in not well educated or just plain stupid) and rich (well, maybe not filthy rich, but pretty damn well off). If you guessed I am referring to fundamentally religious and/or hard-right conservative Americans, then put down the two-by-four, you're safe.

In the good old U S of A, if you are parking more than two cars in your garage, at least one of them is a luxury SUV, you have a boat docked at the local marina, and you've always had to think about how to spend your money, then I consider you pretty well off. The rest of us, well, if we have more than two cars, they are up on blocks, we are probably still paying on at least one of them, and the only boats we own are captained by our kids in the bathtub. We don't have to think about where our money goes; it's gone the day after payday.

As far as education goes, well, that's relative. I've known too many uneducated geniuses to give much credence to parchment as an indicator of intelligence, and I have met many the idiot with a degree and not one lick of common sense or any indication that they learned anything. One thing I do know from observation is that many people have an inability to absorb knowledge that isn't fed to them by a preacher, priest, or payroll officer. There has been this rivalry going on between evil, satanic, godless science and whatever is translated out of the bible, and science usually comes in second, especially if one needs to think in order to accept the fact being offered. Facts are also subject to the scrutiny of whoever that fact might impact, such as God fearing, conservative, patriotic American CEO's who operate power plants, pesticide plants, and various other industries that pollute the environment or pump out greenhouse gases like there's no tomorrow. So, you can imagine how much such a person want's to "educate" the local populace of said plant as to the loss of jobs that could result from allowing those damn liberals to spread fear with their godless environmental propaganda.

One good example of the eventual effectiveness of the metaphoric two-by-four, given time, is what has happened to the good people of West Virginia, a good portion of them proud to call themselves conservative evangelical christians, who have depended on the jobs provided by those fine companies ripping the tops off the mountains and filling in the valleys to get to the coal beneath. Environmentally, it has been an unmitigated disaster. Coal dust and other particulate contamination is everywhere, the streams have been destroyed and entire fish populations wiped out, and the water table throughout the region has been poisoned by the waste products running off the sites. I'm not even going to go into the very idea of leveling whole mountain ranges that took millions of years to build up (oh, I'm sorry, appeared overnight when God snapped his fingers and said "Let there be mountains.."). Of course, the long suffering christians did just that, suffered, until one brave lady stood up and did the unspeakable. She vocalized the blasphemous idea that destroying nature can't be in God's plan, that God told man to be a good steward of the Earth; if anyone was going to destroy the Earth, it would damn well be him! And believe it or not, since it's happening to them, right there, they are rallying around her and fighting back. If you would like a more in-depth view of this new awakening by conservative evangelicals all across America, as well as the resistance they are up against from their own "brethren", click here:

Is God Green?

That's a good thing, right? That evangelicals could actually be environmentalists as well and not burn in hell for it? Yes, it IS a good thing, but I would like to point out something that really irks me. If a LIBERAL (that's a word that used to be a positive label but got morphed into this evil moniker) makes the same noises under the same circumstances, the warnings fall on deaf ears, because anything a godless liberal has to say MUST come straight out of Satan's mouth and is nothing but communistic propaganda designed to turn good christian folk into homosexuals. Remember, I DID say that ignorance rears it's head in the strangest places. However, if a CHRISTIAN screams that the ship is sinking quite awhile after the bow has been submerged, only THEN will such people consider the need for lifejackets.

We as a people, such the mixture of races, creeds, and colors that we are, really need to stop arguing about that light heading towards us from the other end of the tunnel and for once consider getting the hell off the tracks. It's a very narrow tunnel, folks, and if we don't head out of it TOGETHER, we are ALL getting run over, TOGETHER. Many of us are really tired of committing suicide by proxy, allowing so many of you, in the name of God no less, to ignore and impede our efforts to save our Earth, and the people who live on it. We are tired of having our empathy for life being turned into something so ugly by the very people who claim that blastocysts have a "right to life". Your hypocrisy is killing us all, and I hate to say this, but if I'm going down, I'm at least comforted by the fact that you are going down with me.

2006-10-09T22:41:00.000-04:00

This individual is an elected representative in the United States Congress. Not only that, but he is the Speaker of the House. I swear to Bob. No kidding. Really. I wouldn't lie to you. It's true! I rest my case.

Nuclear Annoyance......

2006-10-09T18:22:00.000-04:00

Well, they finally did it. The North Koreans........now wait, I think it's getting a bit stupid to be referring to North "Koreans"; it's one maniac surrounded by an equally paranoid support system. Anyway........that short dude claims to have tested a nuclear weapon. Only, for the first time since I can remember, seismologists and government intelligence sources all over the world haven't been able to verify that statement just yet. It appears that the shock wave that this supposed test has generated was so mild, the experts are actually having to go LOOK for the tale-tale signs that an underground test usually leaves in it's wake.

Give me a break. If anything occurred at all, my guess is that they either packed every available brick of plastic explosive, ammonium nitrate, and anything else they could spare to blow up into a hole in the hopes of creating a big enough explosion to set off the seismographs, or their weapon was so puny it could hardly go "BANG". This is not the first time that the vaulted and highly talented North Korean weapons team has screwed the pooch. You do remember that long range missile that spent all of three minutes in the air before exploding? Yea, that was a threat, wasn't it?

North Korea has spent the last decade whining, bitching and moaning, and outright threatening us and their neighbors with a "rain of fire" if we didn't ship them lots of food and porn which their bankrupt system of government doesn't seem to be able to produce on it's own. I can't think of any country since the axis of WWII that has gone so far out of it's way to invite negative attention like this lunatic has. So, everybody has been wondering why Bush hasn't rounded up the retired waves and wacs and mounted a full scale invasion of NK to root out all of that WMD that they jump up and down screaming "We have it, it's right here, come and get it, we dare you!!!" Could it be that he KNOWS that Kim whatshisname wouldn't know a nuclear warhead from a kidnapped Japanese actress? Could it be that he KNOWS that we couldn't possibly handle another 3 million screaming NKA's pouring over the border in a fit of nationalistic suicide? Could it be he's a damn sight better at starting wars with countries that MIGHT have something nasty in their bunkers than he is with those who make no effort to hide it? Could be......could be.......

If anybody has something to worry about should this pygmy start tossing around itsy-bitsy nucs, it's China. China is sucking reams of money out of the west in order to build up it's military so that one day it can drop the pretense of actually being a peaceful nation only interested in friendly, profitable relations with the capitalists it has so despised. Taiwan's days are numbered, the U.S. government just hasn't come out and admitted as much. The Chinese are not really communists in the actual sense of the word, but they are a power-centric mafia, just like Sadam was, and they don't like democracies. But for now, they don't need NK stirring up the pot and forcing them to back this idiot if we actually decided to try and take Kim out. So, expect the Chinese to tell Kim to shut the fuck up or North Korea gets a new fearless leader, due to an unexpected illness. Or maybe not, because my guess is that China knows, just like Bush does, that Kim doesn't have a nuc, and China appreciates the distraction that NK provides.

Anyway, it's all rather mute, because when it comes right down to it, OUR bang is bigger than THEIR bang. Demonstratedly so.......just ask Japan.

In Defense of Us Cowardly Agnostics

2006-10-08T00:06:00.000-04:00

When I started the post, I had no idea it would end up being so damn long, so Tim, go ahead and skip this one, and the rest of you, grab some snacks and refreshments, cause it's gonna be a long, strange trip indeed.........

In an examination of faith, or lack thereof, on another blog, I felt that some responders were rather hostile to the idea of agnosticism, suggesting it to be an escape mechanism in case the atheists are wrong and something divine wants to hold you accountable. They even went so far as to describe it as somewhat of a cowardice, and that's when I felt the concept needed some sort of defense.

Yes, there but for the grace of (who the hell knows?) goes I, the almost atheist, for I fully realize that the only concrete knowledge mankind has ever gathered has been derived from the scientific method, shared and recorded knowledge of events and experiences, and solid things one can touch and feel, or witness with the help of a microscope or telescope. Even the magic of math has pierced the veil of mystery surrounding so much of the physical world, enabling us to comprehend things that mere observation cannot bring to light. Yes, the atheist has all the proof in the world of what IS, and very little in the way of philosophy to suggest what could be, sans any scientific evidence. The atheist is much more likely to make their way through the world based on sound reasoning than the religious, simply due to the fact that one is led by what IS, while the other is led in directions having nothing to do with what is, but how they believe they have been directed. For instance, a poor, unmarried, atheistic woman might choose abortion based on the fact that she can't provide for the child and is not ready to start a family, while the religious woman in the same situation would probably have the child, out of fear of damnation, the religious influence totally overriding any practical consideration. The agnostic would at least agonize over the choice, before deciding for herself what would be the best course of action. But tell me, what is so flawed with that?

You have to give the agnostic credit for not necessarily forming a concrete picture of what divinity might be, or even defining it as a force of creation. Many agnostics are simply failed adherents of established religions, such as I, the lapsed Catholic. But let's start at the beginning of this label. Why was I a Catholic? It certainly wasn't by conscious decision. My parents, who were Catholic, for whatever reason, at the appropriate time as dictated by that dogma, baptized me according to the laws of the church, and WAH-LAH, I "became" Catholic, to young to even know it. Then, later in life, those who were my guardians took it upon themselves to see to it that I was indoctrinated by the teachings of the Catholic church, seeing to it that I attended Mass and Sunday school, so that my immortal soul remained intact and untainted by the evil surrounding us. That "evil", I presume, was the teachings of other religions, or the possibility of my questioning what I was being taught. I had no real problem with this early on, since I was to busy coming to grips with the basics of human existence, and didn't have time or motivation to even want to challenge the "facts" that had been presented to me. However, I can't even begin to count the sleepless nights I suffered as a child wondering if something sinful I did or thought would result in me being cast into a lake of fire for all eternity. Such are the sins visited upon children in their formative years.

All throughout my life I spoke to this invisible man who I had been taught was the creator of all things. Never once did he reply. Even in my darkest moments, when I needed him most, he remained silent, and I was left with nothing but what I choose to do to deal with the moment. Sometimes I would say I moved in the right direction, other times I didn't. Only in distant retrospect can I suggest which direction was which. Even now I can't say with certainty whether or not I would have done the things I did knowing what I know now, or whether fate would have held me to that path regardless. But here I am, and not once did I detect the influence of divinity. And still, I refuse to declare one way or another whether or not I would have been able to.

The most valuable aspect of becoming responsible for one's own self is that you are finally free to think independently, if you are strong enough, or even adventurous enough to do so. Although I had plenty enough to keep my mind occupied, with such things as survival, emotional succulence, and achievement, I did have the thirst to know how others approached this thing called God. I was amazed at the different interpretations that cultures all over the world, and even those within my own sphere of existence, formed of this concept. Perhaps it was with the grace of being so spiritually lazy that I was able to think that all I had been taught might not be the final word on the subject. And yes, when the hypocrisy of it all began to weigh on me, with such a violent history, wars, injustice, the very nature of man, I tilted heavily towards tossing the whole idea that something divine could possibly exist.

But there were all those sunsets, those wondrous paintings on the horizon that no artist could ever match. There were the constant miracles occurring, when people diagnosed by medical science to die, instead would live, cured when no cure was possible. There was the music, the art, the kindness so many people were capable of in the most dire of circumstances, and the literature that transcended what I knew of existence and what one could imagine. And the night sky......ah.......back in the day when one could see the heavens in a pitch black night in ALL their glory......oh my....if that could exist, anything could be possible!

Then, as I delve into the wonders of biological diversity and how complex this web of life surrounding us actually was, it dawned on me that there was no need to to believe in a creator, an invisible man with strange rules, or a heaven and a hell. When one watches an anthill, sees a flight of geese flying formation, watches the mating rituals of hammerhead sharks courtesy of the discovery channel, or strokes the fur of a cat, one can sense a force more powerful than anything if one only pays attention. This is a segway, so pay attention.

Day by day, it seems, we are finding out more intricate details about how this universe was created, going back to a distant time, far more distant than one can easily comprehend, when a mere speck in a sea of nothing exploded violently outward in a cascade of creation, the laws of physics, perhaps even changing second by split second to accommodate each moment of split second of situation, eventually spread out to form the universe that we now witness as our reality. It is suggested that eventually this reality will begin to collapse upon itself, to return to that speck in the middle of a new nothing, only to repeat the cycle, and has done so since forever. Try and grasp the idea that there never was a beginning, and that there cannot ever be an end. Try and wrap your mind around the idea that there never WAS a creator, because eternity hasn't ever provided the need for one. So, if that is the case, then were does this idea of something spiritual fit in? Well, we know that the universe is composed of matter, and energy, and who knows what else. But there is one component in this soup of stuff that transcends mere rock and fire and element and gravity, and that is LIFE. Life, according to science, is the consequence of the right elements combining to form the right molecules in the right order in the perfect environment, and mathematically, all these conditions can arise, sooner or later, all over this universe. Rarity is relative, once you consider the sheer size of it all. Gold is considered rare, but tell me, don't you see plenty of it? So, lets take all this life, distill it down to the amount of it that produces sentience, then take all that sentience, and distill that down into a possible form of energy that has a physics all it's own. The physics I refer to is all those things we think might exist but still have a hard time pinning down, such as the astral plane, ghosts, an afterlife, clairvoyance, past lives, reincarnation, so on and so forth. The very physics which allow radio waves to bring us Three Dog Night or The Beasty Boys might also allow for a dimension that collects all this ethereal energy we think of as our souls, or life-force. Hell, even blades of grass or the tiny sparks of life-force that bacteria might posses could even be a part of this grand party. Now take this life-force, this collective consciousness if you will, and imagine the combined bank account that has accumulated since the dawn of time, or at least since the first tiny spark of life was deposited. Wouldn't such a thing be a force to be reckoned with? It would not necessarily resemble anything we could label as a "God", but it could be something even more wondrous than something we created in our own image, in our own imaginations.

In the earliest times of our precarious existence, we have looked for ways to explain all those strange things around us, like volcanos, thunderstorms, death, disease, and the feeling that comes over us when we produce a child. All this wonder had to come from SOMEWHERE, and to a primitive mind, a God of some form or another was as good an explanation as any. And so we created many of them throughout our history, writing and rewriting the rules we believed these Gods wanted us to live by. We even created punishments to go along with those rules in order to keep ourselves on the same page and not go confusing the issue by challenging them. Being human, that has never really worked, but even in this day and age, we refuse to relinquish the desire to inflict these rules on each other to avoid difference and the conflict that creates. But that has only created more conflict, and the wars of faith go on and on.

The reason God never reached down and touched me is because he never could. It wasn't personal. But what has touched me is the life that surrounds me, within me and without, and somehow assures me that I am not alone. The spark of life within me will record all I have experienced, all those mistakes I made, all the good deeds I performed, and how much I loved. All the pain, agony, ecstasy, joy, fear, stupidity, all those things that my brain chemistry enables me to experience, will not go to waste, but will add to the collective savings account which resides somewhere beyond my comprehension, and I only have faith to carry me through to that day, when my body fails me and releases that which is me back to the whole. How do I know this? Bob told me so. You have your own voice telling you many things, and he/she/it may be called Shirley, to you, but it's all the same. If you listen hard enough, you'll hear. If you are a hard core Baptist, Buddhist, Scientologist, or Atheist, it doesn't matter. You will end up in the same place, and that place is unknowable to you until you are released from these bonds of logic and perception and you hear that voice too, in all it's high powered magnificence. Either that or you'll be playing harps on fluffy clouds or doing the back stroke in a lake of fire. You choose what you want to have faith in. I've chosen my own path, and I'll gladly walk it alone, even if all you atheists think I'm a cowardly agnostic, and the rest of you think I'm toast.......

State of Affairs

2006-10-02T11:46:00.001-04:00

One might wonder how any particular nation manages to remain in one piece, perhaps not prospering, perhaps not holding the title of "Superpower", yet not declining or in danger of fragmentation or utter ruin. France, England, Germany, Italy, all these nations have had their share of glory, have suffered their share of dark days, yet slipped relatively below the radar and sit within their respective borders, happy as clams to remain basically intact and in no real danger of imploding from within or becoming overwhelmed by barbarian hordes. Yet here we are, PAX Americana, barely over 2OO measly years old, and a sad state of schizophrenia has overtaken us, totally losing our identify as a nation, unable to articulate who we are and what we stand for. We have one big target painted on our flag, and the arrows are coming not only from our stated enemies, but even from our supposed friends and allies. All that remains is that we enter a state of civil war or that the nations of the world somehow decide we need to be reigned in and push back at us. They say the best way to deal with a bully is to ignore them, and I say whoever came up with that idea is a blooming idiot. Imagine the power of every ambassador to the United Nations standing, then turning their backs when the representative from the United States comes to the podium. How humiliating that would be........but I think it's high time we got shown a little tough love.

I think I am not exaggerating too much when I say that once, everyone in the world had fond daydreams of becoming an American. Well, not everyone, for this country has stepped on enough toes being all high and mighty that we have always had someone wishing to cut us down a notch or two, and I'm not speaking strictly of communists and military dictators. Imagine being a simple peasant in a simple little village, minding your simple little life, and here comes a government sponsored death squad to make an example of you and your friends and family, even though you probably didn't even know exactly what point they were trying to make. Let's say you are a lone survivor of such an educational experience, and eventually you find out that the death squad that destroyed your life was funded in part by the CIA. The AMERICAN CIA. You see, you had the misfortune of having some rebels camped out nearby who had been making life miserable for El Presidente', who was trying to insure that the Dole Pineapple plantations were not hassled by bothersome communist insurgents. Proximity sucks. So, of course, you are not exactly enamored with the idea of anything American.

The point here is that all these other long lived nations have gone through their own periods of colonial exploitation, influencing the affairs of other smaller, less powerful countries, and all around bad behaviors, and while not all of them can be accused of totally upright behavior, they generally have gotten with the program and rarely get the attention of people out looking for some national entity to hurt. This is the 21st century, for Bob's sake, and here we are, the shining city on the hill, already tarnished and losing much of it's well-earned luster. More and more people all over the world downright despise us, pity us, or are embarrassed to be associated with us. You can say all you want about Canada, making jokes about how meek and mild they are, but the first lie many Americans caught in a bad situation overseas will try and tell is that they are Canadians. I mean, when is the last time Canadians invaded anyone? Tried to assassinate a foreign leader? Pissed ANYBODY off? Or how about Italy? Hell, they can't keep a government in place for more than 6 months, yet Italy goes about it's business, minding it's own crazy affairs, not bothering anyone else. Then there's Cuba, that thorn in our side, that has remained under the iron grip of Castro, simply to piss us off. No other real reason. Isn't it a pity that a whole culture would rather go without then overthrow the last example of a failed social experiment rather than bring back "freedom and democracy"? What does that say about us?

So, here we are thinking we are the last remaining superpower on the planet, and warlords in Somalia laugh at us, the refugees in Darfor wonder where we are, and the people of Rwanda payed the price for thinking "It would never happen again." No one is afraid that we might do the right thing, but they certainly expect us to perform a few "surgical strikes" and think that's going to solve our problems. And lo and behold, the very architects of the Geneva Conventions now want to change the rules because following them might be a mite bit inconvenient.

I have been perusing a few Australian and British blogs and am amazed how similar the outrage is amongst so many of their citizens against their own governments, who, coincidentally, have fallen in lockstep behind the will of the Whitehouse. It seems that for the first time since the end of WWII, devout loyalty to a steadfast ally has devolved into guilt by association. With friends like us, it's no wonder our allies seem to have fewer enemies.

There is no excuse in these modern, supposedly more rational times, for states like North Korea, Cuba, Syria, and many other basket cases to even exist. Certainly enough people have witnessed the examples of peoples struggling under the yokes of totalitarianism of all strokes to ever want to live such a life. Yet, when we have the opportunity to demonstrate the shining example of what living in a free, open, and democratic society can be like, what do we do? We violate every tenet we ever preached to the world, and embarrass those who once held us in such high esteem. We rabidly hold dear our hard earned rights, and squake like chickens every time they are threatened, yet we turn a blind eye whenever our elected officials violate those very same principles in regards to foreigners in the name of state security. It's no wonder that the adjective first thought of these days when referring to America is "hypocrite".

Pride in being American has always been the truest and most rock solid attribute we as a people could celebrate. That pride is now being tested like never before, as our enemies within betray us and what we stand for, in attempts to focus our attention purely on enemies without. If we truly wish to pass on the standard of pride to our progeny, we seriously have to get off our collective asses and start doing the work required of a proud and free people, or we will sooner than later face the same rot, decay, and collapse that befell every great civilization before us, instead of joining the family of nations that have endured the ages and maintained their own proud identities.

Crackerjacks and Crackpots

2006-09-29T21:39:00.000-04:00

I just HAVE to get my mind off politics for a little while, especially after the revelations on today's news. This whole government is either corrupt, blind, hapless, downright criminal, or is pedophiliac. I think a coup is in order. We need new elections altogether, starting from scratch. Throw them ALL out, and lock up most of them. Tell the new hopefuls to remember ONE thing, and ONE thing only; you are here to SERVE! This isn't your own private Idaho.

The weather is starting to cool down, and hopefully, so will my electric bill. I'm so thankful that the elections are coming up, it's done wonders for gas prices. I'm not spending the windfall, though. I know damn well what will happen as soon as the ballots are cast.

Speaking of ballots, these wonderful new electronic voting machines don't seem to be accomplishing much as far as fair elections are concerned. Down here they ran out of democratic ballots all of a sudden. Where there's a will, there's a way.....

Well, I got rid of alot, if not all, of my stuff that's been taking up closet space here in the castle. Being poor and stuck on the farm means half my wardrobe has been hiding away in the dark, playing moth-bait, so that half went to the Salvation army. I'm keeping my Navy Crackerjacks, though. I love to brag about still being able to wear them, and I have to keep them on hand just in case I need to back that up. Plus, I need to keep them on hand in case the Republicans remain in power and get us into a nuclear war. I'm sure they'll be dragging the bottom of the barrel for veterans by then and they'll need me to man a typewriter onboard any fast attack submarine that survives the initial exchange. Maybe I'll get lucky and it'll be an iMac. IBM selectrics never had spellcheck.

The joint in my wife's poor little finger is ALMOST healed now. She's been delightfully playing with it, showing me how nice and solid it is, and I've been telling her to quit messing with it, and sure enough, the X-ray showed that it isn't quite fused solidly together just yet, and the surgeon told her I was right about not manipulating it like she does. You know that look without looking at you that wives' give ya when the expert backs you up? I got that.

I nervously performed some major surgery on this external firewire hard drive of mine, switching out the old 60 gig drive inside with the old 80 gig drive I gingerly ripped out of my old, dead, and dearly departed Blueberry iMac. It's working like a charm and is equal in capacity to the hard drive inside my new iMac, so now I can use it for backing up my data in case my luck holds steady and smoke issues from the back of this one. If I wasn't so smart, I'd be a genius!

I am in awe with the great posts I've been treated to by the likes of H.E., The Frontier Editor, and the Buffalo. Buffalo is making me kind of sad, in a way, as I see him evolve from a kick-ass, forget the names patriot, to one who has lost his country right before his eyes. I love this guy, because his common sense and awareness of the world around him has allowed him to question and re-evaluate many things he might once have held concrete and dear to his heart, in favor of the cold, hard truth, which can be liberating in so many ways. It doesn't make it any less painful, though, and I can see it come through in his words, his anger, his frustration. You didn't lose America, Buf, it's right there in your heart, where it always was. Welcome home, Brother.

A recent poll says that 6 out of 10 Iraqis approve wholeheartedly with attacks on American troops. We need to bring our boys home. They did their best under impossible circumstances, made impossible by the worst administration ever to hold office in this country. Bring them home, PLEASE!

After comment addendum: I would like to assure Buf that he's right, my hat was never flat...........

Parting is SUCH Sweet Sorrow.........

2006-09-27T19:14:00.000-04:00

The wife has assigned me the task of clearing out my closets and doing something with the somewhat large assortment of electronics that have piled up over the years which are not being used, either because of obsolescence or some minor malfunctions. For one reason or another, I have not seen fit to rid myself of them, but they ARE taking up space, and she's right, I have to reach a resolution as to their individual fates. But, being a man and all, well, it's so damn HARD!

Women, bless 'em, will hold onto that crotchet doll, souvenir plate from Cincinnati, stored away in the bottom of some chest, never to see the light of day, all due to some sentimental value, and that's fine, to a point. Men, however, will amass an incredible amount of bulky, old, unused mechanical and electronic devices long after they have been actually retired from use. It's almost understandable, from our perspective, especially if these items work just fine, but were replaced by a more up-to-date item. We think we are eventually going to find a new purpose for these obsolete items, but somehow we never get around to finding an alternate use for them. We would like to sell them, but due to their obsolescence, we know we will never get anywhere near the price we paid for them, and that just doesn't sit well with us, and we can't bring ourselves to part with a CD player or receiver that robbed us new of perhaps $300, and the best we might get is $25. We rather it rot in our attics rather than suffer the economic humiliation.
It's stupid, I know, but that's a guy for ya.

Well, my own chickens are coming home to roost, and I have to face up to the fact that these orphans of mine need a new home, even if that new home happens to be the dumpster. This is the one major bone I have to pick with the ever evolving technology that shrinks things the size of small refrigerators to something you can carry in your pocket. It's not so much that I object to this incredible efficiency, just the fact that it can happen so damn fast. If it were up to me, I would mandate that new models of anything manufactured be required to have a useful life of five years before they are updated with all the latest advances in technology, so that we actually get some real use out of them before we toss them away in favor of the new. Then, on the release date of the latest toaster, blender, dishwasher, computer, or iPod, we would have all the best stuff trotted out all at once, and give us a chance to find a fitting use or recycling of the things that served us so well. We could even make a national holiday out of the whole affair, saying goodbye to the old, and welcoming in the new. This could especially be good for automobiles, which rarely change drastically from model year to the next. We tend to try and get a good ten years of use out of a car anyway, considering how much the damn things cost us.

I enjoyed my old Blueberry G3 iMac for a good five years before it finally gave up the ghost on me and I HAD to replace it, which I did with the latest (at the time) G-5 iMac, and this machine is indeed leap years more advanced than the original. But, my original iMac served me well, even though by the time she died she was having a hard time running the latest software, and I had to surgically install a larger hard drive to replace the tiny one she came with. Well, now I have this beautiful new baby with it's incredibly fast G-5 processor, a much larger hard drive, and already, she's obsolete! Oh, she can do just about anything I could possibly need her to do, and can do it for years to come, but already I have to upgrade the hard drive, and the new iMacs with their Intel processors can do things mine just can't do, due to it's older architecture. That's progress for you.

Well, I really have my work cut out for me the next several days, as I weed out those items I simply can't justify keeping any longer, and coming up with excuses to store away the rest. The wife simply won't understand how I can justify keeping the things I do keep, but then again, if I wanted to, I could go straight to her shoe closet and I'd win that argument easily. Hopefully, I won't have to. Wives have a way of making winning an argument a losing proposition, one way or another.

Brevity, Sweet Brevity (The Extended Version)

2006-09-25T22:34:00.000-04:00

A highly esteemed, talented, and very sick colleague of mine has written a post that has struck very long, sharp needles into the very fabric of the voodoo doll which is my blog, otherwise known to the world (since I became famous) as "Dances With Leaves", the title which is, ironically, based on an actual suggestion made by same colleague. In this post, and I am steeling myself to impart this blasphemy, he is suggesting that some of us need to pare back on our musings to such an extent that they become.....oh, how shall I put this...shorter. Another-words, my dear readers, he dares to suggest that we embrace....shudder..........BREVITY!

Gasp.....there....I said it, and may Bob almighty forgive me for the poison I dared allow to flow across my lips! Yes, my friends, he is tired of having to focus his attention on what one says to such an extent that he stick with it till the bitter end, enduring segways and digressions (where have I heard THAT word before?) and thought patterns that are not delivered with brutal efficiency, getting to the point before he falls asleep on his keyboard or simply hits the next bookmark on his list. AND, his finger is becoming rather buff having to roll the scroll wheel on his mouse in order to get to the end of our blogs. This is a travesty. We, my friends, are ruining the symmetry of our fair hero's mousing hand by forcing him to work that wheel to get thru our long, drawn out dissertations on the effects of man-in-the-moon marigolds on drought stricken soils in midwestern gardens. We should be so ashamed.

Actually, and I may find myself upon the same platform with a trap door beneath my feet, I think I can understand where he's coming from. There ARE some of us, and I won't name names, because frankly I tend to avoid them myself if they are extra special guilty of this tendency, who can write each and every post with such length and mini-series quality that it takes a good half hour to digest. And not all of these grand gatherings of words are greater than the sum of their fonts. However, I would like to suggest that if you have the thirst for ideas necessary to endure these marathons of musings, the time you invest soaking up their offerings are more often than not worth the effort. Not all, of course, but I would like to think most. Most, that is, as in the ones that intrigues us enough to record that bookmark in the first place.

His desire that we keep our contributions to less than two "page scrolls" in order not to violate his attention span, however, is a desire that I personally have no desire on my part to cater to, as I may have reasons valid perhaps only to me for violating his quota of thought process and/or how that thought process is delivered for consumption. I'm sure that many times I have bored people either with subject manner or the convoluted manner in which I wove such tapestry, but that is the risk any author takes when he creates anything literary. It's a calculated risk every one of us takes when we open up the faucets of our Id and fill the pools for our public to either refresh themselves in or drown in.

This is not an attack on his peeve. It's a common and understandable peeve and we all in one form or another are guilty of it, albeit probably never for ourselves, as that might cramp our style. This is a friendly rebuttal, from one person who has some sense of the other, and hopefully it will be taken as such. I even hope he gritted his teeth and made himself use the scroll wheel to reach this final ending to a long and drawn out response to said peeve. That would be a sign of respect, and if he thinks not, then I would have no reason to give a damn one way or another. But, having the sense of him that I do, I give him that benefit of the doubt. I hope you do too, no matter how insufferably long and drawn out your own posts might happen to usually be.

Matter of fact, I have made MY point alot quicker than I intended, but fear not, for THE Michael has things to say which I am sure will fill many a post to come with no taint of BREVITY to weigh them down. Stay tuned.

Writing on Trampolines

2006-09-23T21:44:00.000-04:00

There's something about my last post that had an effect on me. I'm sorta catching my breath right now. Sometimes the idea that becomes a post has percolated in my brain all day long and thus is a somewhat calculated muse by the time it makes itself onto this page. But truly, my best work, if you will allow me to presume such, weaves itself word by word from out of nowhere, as though each sentence is being constructed for me by some mysterious author deep inside my soul that I can't actually consciously control. I had English composition in College (yes, I had to take a few courses having nothing to do with health care during my aborted attempt to get a nursing degree, but hey, it was fun) and I can't remember creating anything nearly as good chasing that "A'" (which I got) as I do now having forgotten all the rules of writing I was taught. So, what this has told me is that something truly relevant or meaningful comes from the heart, and not the head.

OK, so I whip this thing out, and, thinking the wife, the sweet Wiccan that she is, might could appreciate it, so I print a copy and hand it to her. Next thing I know she's wiping tears off her cheeks. I honestly didn't anticipate that. I honestly thought it was just another of my run of the mill posts, albeit maybe a good one. Then, I get a few comments, not that many, of course, since my fan base numbers about a hand and a half, but those comments only reinforced the emotional state that my wife's' reaction was having on me. Well, if the post had been a book and I was hoping for good reviews.......I got good reviews. But actually, having written the thing, I wasn't even worried about the response. I was to busy trying to recover my own emotional equilibrium.

I think sometimes I am one of those people who irritate the hell out of most other people. I think to much. I worry to much. In most crowds around the water cooler, the topic of discussion is probably most often whether or not the Braves will make the playoffs again. And I would be the idiot who interjects that CNN just mentioned something about Bin Laden having died from Typhus. So, of course, everybody would stare at me blankly, politely not saying out loud that they wish I would just go away. So many people, and dear readers, please do not think I am automatically assuming you belong to this species, simply don't want to have to discuss, or even think about, the deeper subjects that I tend to pursue. I can't say that I blame them actually, for nothing sucks the joy out of life like paying attention to what's going on around you. Perhaps it's not so much the quality of my awareness of gloom and doom as it is the quantity. In this vein I think perhaps I'm sicker than Mickey (no offense, my Lord and Savior).

Well, producing the post exposed more of my despair than I was prepared to experience, and so it's taken me most of the day to climb back out of the pit I had dug for myself, and I apologize to whoever fell in after me. In order to make amends, I am hoping I fill that pit back in with some good heart-felt comedy. Well, I'll TRY, that is. I wanted to be a comedian when I grew up.......but I was afraid people would laugh at me.

There IS one saving grace available to me, however. Actually, I have quite a number of saving graces. They are the bloggers who make me laugh, cry, shout, and giggle. Thank you, guys. Thank you so very much.

And yes, Tim, that includes you, my friend.

Gaia forgive us, for we know damn well what we do.........

2006-09-22T18:56:00.000-04:00

Of all the gin joints in the universe, of all the balls of dirt and water and life run amuck, I had to end up on you. It's not like I called up my celestrial travel agent and made reservations for the next horrific birth in Biloxi. I would have sat around for eons on standby if I'd known what I was getting into. Well, I'm here, the next plane out isn't due for awhile yet, save some stupid accident or organ failure. so I have to make the best of it, which so far hasn't been according to plan, if I'd bothered to make one.

You happen to occupy that sweet spot that so many of your breathren lust after, that narrow band of orbit from a nicely aged star with plenty of fuel to burn. You have a nice tilt to your axis which insures your top and bottom portions get equally browned, and equally iced. And up until now, you were the perfect host to a veritable riot of living diversity, give or take a few hiccups in time when an occasional meteor strike put a damper on things. And all along, you defied the odds, dodging pulsar beams, supernovas, and other sundry galactic train wrecks that makes the universe such a wild and crazy place.

Then you screwed the pooch. You sat there spinning, nurturing an ever evolving mix of plants and animals, all living in a carefully crafted synchronicity, a dotting mother nursing her brood, perhaps until such time that she could spread her seeds into the cold, inhospitable vacuum of space, just to spread the love. Towards this end, it all came together, this thing called evolution, natural selection, survival of the fittest, and one day........WAHLAH! An ape had an idea.

It's been downhill ever since.

Oh, I imagine you must have been so proud as this one species of intelligent ape, with little going for it except for it's unique imagination, managed somehow to graduate from puny prey to horrific predator, all in a seemingly geologic blink of an eye. Creatures that used to strike fear into the hearts of all others fell before this new species, and with a few thousand years of learning and passing on that knowledge, rather than relying strictly on instinct, this nasty little creature spread all across your beautiful surface and began to alter it forever. This creature preferred the safe embrace of the cave, and if it couldn't find one handy, it simply built one from scratch. So there went the forests. An ever increasing number of these apes produced an ever increasing need for food, thus game animals, the big and slow first, then the fleeter of foot, began to decline. Hunting and gathering began to give way to the easier and more efficient crop and herd, and more land began to be altered to suit the needs of this one creature.

If only these effects were the progeny of this new top predator, the rest of the biosphere might have accommodated the new reality. But no, these were not the only new rules being written for the new epoch. Throw in a newfound ability to harness aggression, a trait once needed by many species simply for survival and reproduction, and things really get interesting. Clans became tribes, tribes became villages, villages became towns, then cities, then nations, and it seemed each and every one of them had a bone to pick with every other one. Not content to make do with the resources available to them in their own locals, these bands of self-indulgent apes invented the art of TAKING what they needed, or simply wanted, from other bands of equally entitled apes who had problems with that idea. And thus WAR was thrown into an already screwed up mix of things that never should have happened.

You despaired in thinking that given time, these willful new children of yours would mellow out, mature, come to realize their true potential and make you proud. Like most any parent, you want to deny that YOUR baby could be so dangerous. Now, much to late, your best and brightest have turned on you, despoiling you in every imaginable, and even unimaginable way they could think of. Your air, your water, your land is laden with poison, the very air you crafted to shield them from cosmic rays now stripped of much of it's critical ozone. The storms you created to help spread moisture and nudge the landscape are now killers, sucking on the heat building up in your oceans. The ice you coated your poles with is now melting, threatening whole ecosystems and the animals that have adapted to them over time, and threatening to steal more land from the continents and give it back to the sea. And fire, that element you unleashed to aid the forests and plains, now consumes them like some ravenous beast, All of this because of one damn smart monkey.

Mother Gaia, you brought forth my ancestors according to the laws of life, and here I am, in awe of you, not only of those nooks and crannies I explored of you on my own, but visited by means once considered magic, and you are so beautiful it makes me weep. I watch in horror as my brothers consume everything you offer, never giving anything back, and I am sickened by it all. So gather your strength, steel your resolve, marshall your forces and defend yourself. We are nothing but a virus, and you have all the cures at your gracious disposal. Hurricane, tornado, tsunami, draught, lighting, flood, earthquake, and famine, call forth your own horsemen, and call us to judgment. We have sinned against you, and deserve to reap what we have sown. No God in heaven holds us to account, not as we tread upon you, and no penitence in any afterlife will ever call us to justice.

But before you do what you must, allow me one more sunset, one more autumn day as the leaves turn colors only you could paint. Allow me the gentle touch of one more gentle breeze, the smell of jasmine and honeysuckle, and the symphony of birds gathered in the trees. Allow me to thank you for my home upon your Earth, the water I drink from your rains, and the gardens you nurtured for me. I always loved you, and ask your forgiveness for taking all of your gifts for granted. I have never been worthy.

Of all the gin joints in the universe, of all the balls of dirt and water and life run amuck, I had the honor to end up on you.

A Sure-Fire Way to Gain Respect...........NOT!

2006-09-19T19:48:00.000-04:00

A leading church authority uses a poorly worded historical document to make the point that using violence to promote faith is never acceptable for any religion. The adherents of the religion reflected by the document are outraged, assuming without any reflection on what was said that they are being accused of being violent. Violence ensues. People are killed. Property is damaged. Wow, they sure made their point, didn't they?

Is it just me or does it seem that certain followers of a certain faith go on the warpath, spilling blood, every time someone even looks at them the wrong way? And is it just me, or does it seem that every time you suggest they might tend to be, well, say, VIOLENT, in their righteous anger at being accused of being religiously violent, they RUSH OUT AND COMMIT THE VERY THING THEY VEHEMENTLY DENY? I mean, it's like accusing a pack of lemmings of being suicidal, and just to prove you wrong, they angrily leap in masse off a cliff. That'll show YOU!

The Christian Church, especially the Catholics, Bob bless 'em, have gotten their share of bad rap, most of it well earned. We all know, the Pope knows, that a whole lot of blood has been shed in the name of Jesus Christ, the very man who suggested we all turn the other cheek. It didn't seem enough that God himself said from the very beginning; THOU SHALT NOT KILL! Most every deity that has been worshiped by mankind has had some rule that ruled out taking someone else's life, although it has been suggested that saving yours or someone else's life from a raving lunatic wouldn't be held against you. So, I'm sorry, and you can all rush over here and protest violently all you want, burn down my house, murder me and my family, if that really makes you feel better, but if there's something in your faith that allows you to force me to accept your deity or lose my head, then I have one thing to say to that; FUCK YOU!

Many of you raving lunatics out there that would love to take me up on this offer are the reason this world is such a terrible place to live for so many people. You claim to have some kind of divine license to enforce the will of your God, an all powerful omnipotence that is supposed to be capable of doing anything, yet YOU think he can't handle his own business. You speak of blasphemy and yet you yourselves commit the worst KIND of blasphemy by daring to assume responsibilities that belong only to such a being. You think he/she/it is not capable of smiting the wicked if he so pleases? You don't think he has everything under control unless you do his dirty work for him? Are you some kind of fucking NUT or what?

No, my piss-ant friends, you are nothing but criminals, infidels, ego-maniacs, who are blood thirsty animals attempting to do the devil's work in the name of God. You go around making women wear burkas, outlawing liquor and pornography, while in private you rape your women, get drunk, and peruse your porno magazines. You are the ultimate hypocrites. Your greatest "martyrs", one of the fuckwads who piloted a jet into the world trade center, frequented a strip joint often while awaiting his "holy" mission. I wonder, did Allah short him a few virgins in paradise for that little sin? The Taliban is funding it's insurgency in Afghanistan by running much of the heroin trade; I suppose Allah has some kind of loophole for that activity as well, huh? No, I'm sorry, but you are nothing but criminals, and you are shit in the eyes of your own God, no matter what some misguided Mullah told you.

What the Pope said could have been said better, but what he said was historically accurate; Islam WAS spread by the tip of the sword at times in the past, just as Christian crusaders spread murder and mayhem throughout Europe and the Middle East in the name of Jesus. This does not mean that Allah would have approved, as I am sure many Muslims would agree, at least the ones who still have their humanity intact. Many of us in the West, of ALL faiths, or none at all, wish to live and let live, and wish for you to practice your faith in peace. All of our Gods commanded it, and I think it's about time that we ALL listened. Our STUPID president aside, there is NO war against Islam being waged by the average non-muslim throughout the world. We believe that the only valid faith is the faith that comes from within, not enforced from without. So, if you wish to show us that Islam is a peace-loving faith that does not condone terrorism or fanaticism, then perhaps you can join us in agreeing to one thing; that our leaders really need to get a clue, and that the only way to get along is to agree to disagree, and not start a riot every time someone says something stupid.

"Another Saturday Night, and I ain't got no money........"

2006-09-16T22:08:00.000-04:00

I'm staring at this blank TextEdit sheet, the simple little word processing program I use to post with, and I'm coming up blank. Bloggers' block. This sucks.

Well, it's understandable. Nothing is any worse right this minute than it was last night, so I have no impending apocalypse to report on, which is good. I'm not the sort that prefers to suffer for my art, such that it is. So, instead, I just turn on the faucet and let it rip. You never know what kind of crap is gonna flow out.

Oh, wait, I have something! Day before yesterday we had a killer salad for dinner. That COULD have been quite literal. We heard later that bagged spinach was being recalled for being contaminated with E-coli bacteria, having sickened about 100 people and killed one. We had mixed about half a bag of spinach with another half bag of hearts of romaine or something like that. And it was GOOOD! So, we had a great salad and cheated death. What a meal.

To pass this evening, sans some fresh material from netflix, and jack shit on the airwaves, we are revisiting "From Dusk till Dawn", that Quentin Terantino horror classic staring the dweeb himself, George Clooney, Cheech Marin, and certainly not the least bit last, Salma Hyack, the woman that defines W O M A N. Call me sexist, call me a pig, but that woman, in this film at least, was HOT! And no, this film has no socially redeeming value whatsoever. It's violent, decadent, with plenty of nudity and blood everywhere. I'm ashamed for loving it so much. Go figure.

I don't know what it's like wherever you, my faithful reader, happen to be living in this country of ours, but I haven't been able to see the stars in all their glory for quite some time. Now I know why. I downloaded a photo from NASA that shows the entire continent as seen from space at night. It's lit up like a friggin christmas tree. The levels of light pollution in this country is terrible! There are very few places anywhere in this country that hasn't been illuminated to such a degree that a truly dark night sky can allow the full glory of the cosmos to reveal itself. And most would consider that progress.

We've finished Dusk till Dawn and to balance it out with something a bit more on the bright side we are watching "Monsters INC." Hopefully, it will blunt the nightmares the first movie could have screwed up our sleep with. I would much rather be chased thru the forest by James P. Sullivan than by that creepy psychopathic brother played by Terantino. Besides, Mike the monster is rather cute, doncha think? hehe

OK, since I really had nothing worth posting to begin with, I will put this one to rest and allow you to get back to your Sunday morning funny papers and cup of hot coffee. Be sure to tune into CBS Sunday Morning, unless you think God is gonna come for you if you don't show up at church. Bob could care less. Me, I'll be at work wiping butts, taking temperatures, running blood to the lab, and wishing I was fishing, even though I was never a big fan of fishing to begin with.

Paradise

2006-09-15T21:32:00.000-04:00

Cruzan coconut rum. Ice. Orange juice. Roasted salted peanuts. A dinner salad to die for. CSI (Las Vegas). A randy wife. Paradise.

I live a life both cursed and blessed. I endure one, am appreciative of the other. Life is a blend of darkness and light, ying and yang, one series of disasters mitigated by a continuing comfort that never fails me. One step forward, one step back, one thought away from a breakdown, an awareness of the wonder and beauty of the simplest things that won't let that happen. I sometimes wonder why I examine the madness so far out of my influence and bother to integrate it into my reality. It's not like George Bush will ever come to my door and allow me to pronounce sentence upon his sorry conscious. It galls me that I know him for the pathetic excuse for a human he is and he doesn't even know I exist. But, the silver lining to THAT reality is that there are no black SUV's parked down the street keeping an eye on me. Ah, such paranoid fantasies; it's so sad I can even conjure up such a silly thing in this mind of mine. Makes for a good laugh, tho, since I can still do that despite everything.

I have dreams. Only I rarely remember any that have occurred when most dreams are dreamt. My dreams are mostly of the day variety, which by their nature are somewhat directed by my conscious state, with all it's influences brought to bear by whatever situation I find myself in. This makes them less the random, message bearing puzzles that most people enjoy, or suffer, and more constructs of desires, longings, or fears that I deal with in those far corners of my mind. Those few dreams that came to me nocturnal and remained with me were of such power and impact that they earned themselves a permanent file in my mainframe. One I only seem to have when the shit is striking the fan with great fanfare, and the fact that I have not had it in quite some time is arguably a good thing. The other involves loss, loss of something I never had but could cripple me nonetheless if I ever did. Many people, most actually, speak of dreams more as aspiration. Some goal to be attained, be it wealth, fame, comfort, or merely removing one's self from bad circumstances. I began to lose that ability, to dream of things desired and ways I might attain them, some years back; why I am not sure. Perhaps it was defeat, suffered once to often, that chased those dreams away. Perhaps it was coming to gripes with being able to settle for what I had achieved, however little that might have been. All I know is that dreams, in whatever form they may present themselves, are necessary, if for nothing else than to keep despair at bay. So far, it's worked for me. So far.

I am somewhat arrogant about where I find myself in this mad universe. Some might sneer at the comfort I manage to scrape from where I find myself. Some might pity me for not having the strength to reach a bit further for the brass ring. It is those I myself pity. They man who glances at me in my Ford Focus from his Doge Viper or his cavernous SUV might glance down, thinking himself superior wrapped in his cage of success. I glance back and see him in a prison. A waiter at a local restaurant might think how cheap and impoverished I must be that I order one entree off the menu for both the wife and I to share, not realizing that we have learned that one oversized item from today's menus is plenty to satisfy both of us. Yes, we are rather smug about how little of todays consumer oriented lifestyle we actually desire to avail ourselves of, for we are not prisoners of such avarice. And yes, I admit it, given the extra cash, I would avail myself of many of the toys we boys love so much, like a TV about the size of a small drive in theatre. Or one of those new 24 inch iMacs that is so decked out it just MIGHT could do the dishes. However, what I have is an ancient 26 inch RCA television, circa 1985, that proves that they sure knew how to build em that year. This bastard REFUSES to die, much to my chagrin, which in and of itself is a two edged sword. If it gives up the ghost, I get to replace it with a digital set that has the inputs the rest of my system promises to deliver a much better picture to. Then again, I don't have that measly 260 bucks it would cost. Conundrum. But, ya know, it's been awhile since I read a good book.

I started this last night. It's now tonight. I can barely tell the difference. But, today I payed the bills, got the groceries, and tried not to go postal on the lady at the electric company who handed me a revised bill suggesting that they had either TRIPLED their rates this month or I had used four times the electricity I normally do, even tho I am hanging wash out to dry and haven't used the dishwasher in quite awhile now. I knew that bastard meter reader hadn't actually READ my meter. She assured me someone had noticed the disparity and was having the meter read again. They better. I read that sucker myself and the numbers aren't even close.

We're watching a promising new show called "Men in Trees" on ABC. The reason this one appeals to me is that it's set in a tiny town in Alaska. I'm partial to anything set in Alaska. Wish I was set in Alaska.

So, here I am again. Cruzon Coconut rum. Ice. Orange juice. What's left of the roasted, salted peanuts. Salmon patties. A slightly less than randy wife. This is life. My paradise. Salute!

WHY

2006-09-14T15:56:00.000-04:00

Why do I write? Narrower, why MUST I write? Oh, this examination will hardly illuminate; nay, it might inflame, for my reasons are not charitable, nor within them found any measure of redemption. Yet I lay this before you. Take it as ye will.

I have lived a life, and studied others, breathed, eaten, fornicated, and loved. I have labored in many fashions, and found nothing of value beyond the pittance I earned for the time wasted. Yes, wasted. So much of our endeavors, our experiences, mere waste. That my efforts furthered something to the benefit of others, I do not pine. That a mere one, and only one, might have smiled for my visage, ah, to some a trifle, to me a joy of some magnitude. That one loved me, despite me, heaven holds no compare. Yet, I seek respite from this place, this plane I share with idiocy, with spite, with warfare and greed, with hatred, intolerance, illogic, and ignorance, and I flee into this place in my mind, onto this page, intwined with the ink, the font, the feeling I bleed upon it, and beg it be considered. I know full well these words will rest upon the eye of a select few, and perhaps even to enter within and find a resting place in memory, but it will go no further. It will not change a life, change a view, convert even one steadfast in their thinking. It will not be uttered again, passed around, discussed or promoted as something of brilliance, of wisdom, or value, promulgated to the masses for their consumption like some commodity that survives the ages like some Iliad or Odyssey. It may illicit a chuckle, an eyebrow raised, perhaps even an ire, but it will pass over like some gentle tickle of a breeze, forgotten for ever having been felt, so common the sensation. But it will have been noted, and even in it's death throes as it finds it's way inexorably into some trash heap, like the butterfly whose wings birthed a mighty storm halfway around the world, I will move some mountain, somewhere, perhaps only a centimeter. Archemedes can have his lever, I have my words.

I congratulate you, gallant reader, that remained intent to this point, and hoped for some point to be made. You amaze me, the one, that having done so, was content with the point that you realized upon completion of this tiring tirade. We have much in common, you and I. We look back upon our strife, our supposed triumphs, the mountaintop we attained and sat upon and then pissed upon having realized we conquered nothing. What WAS it all for? We know, yet we don't know, and we are the few that know there is little difference. We stopped looking for the answers once we realized there are no answers in three pitiful dimensions, and we somehow have found the bravery to yearn to sense the fourth, the fifth, and however many directions we can look into once we are freed from the sadness and limitations of these mere three. And knowing that, without even knowing how or why, we find our contentment, no matter how rancid the rewards of our efforts, our abilities, our circumstance, or even how sweet we imagined it to be once we attained it. Salute, my brothers! We write, because it is the one thing left to us in this world. The one true thing.

When there's no room left for heroes..........

2006-09-13T19:47:00.000-04:00

Post-Apocalypse. It's a future that has been examined in books and films since forever. The apocalypse I refer to is not the one involving the showdown between the so-called good guy, namely God, and his nemesis, Satan. This sad state of affairs is the possible outcome of good old home grown, namely human, insanity. The usual blame for finding ourselves suddenly back in a poisoned or radioactive stone age was the nuclear stand-off between the U.S. and the Soviet Union. Other possibilities have included global warming, a global germ warfare attempt gone horribly awry, or territory disputes taken to the extreme pitting have-nots against haves. No matter the exact cause, the results have been speculated to be anything but pretty, and most downright hopeless.

One of the best what-ifs I have seen so far is the series of Mad Max movies that came out of Australia and introduced us to that good Catholic Aussie actor, Mel Gibson. The first movie examined a world that was going rapidly down the tubes but was more of a car crash festival than critical examination of survival in tough times. Gibson wasn't exactly lauded for his acting in that one, but it was fun nonetheless. Then came a much better written, much more expansive sequel, The Road Warrior. Still more or less based on his characters driving ability, handiness with available weaponry, and loner angst resulting from the murder of his family, this one was set after all hell had broken loose and mankind was left to fight over what was left of the oil, with pipe dreams of finding some untouched paradise to escape to. This one actually had a plot and some much better acting, as well as some incredible stunt work. It was still a car crash movie, but with a twist, and it worked overall.

Then came the masterpiece, Beyond Thunderdome. Max is a bit older, still adapting to the new reality, still the loner, and mankind is hanging on by a thin thread. This time a major name actress (well, a singer, actually, but who could complain about Tina Turner showing up in this one; I think she ROCKED!) is added to the mix, and Gibson has by now become a major force in hollywood on his own.

This movie examines the tribal nature of man fighting for power, over what's left of anything of value, and how hope can survive in the most unlikely of places. Max is the perfect example of the anti-hero, the man who basically is looking out for number one, but cannot escape his humanity when the chips are down and others depend on him. Turner is the nobody who comes to the forefront and tries to hold it all together, not immune to using underhanded means to do so, all for the greater good, in her eyes at least. Then there's the bit players who add hilarity and substance to the overall story, many times overshadowing Gibson and Turner.

The most fascinating subset of the film was the children, survivors of an evacuation flight that crashed, leaving them on their own in an unlikely oasis deep in the desert. How they survive and the society they build as they wait for a rescue that will never come could be applied to just about any isolated people left with a skewed understanding of the world and limited ability to grasp their situation. Even their made-up language was skillfully crafted and entirely believable.

So, how closely do YOU think Mad Max comes to a likely portrayal of what awaits us in the not-to-distant future? Personally, I hope it's not even close, because to me it seems all too possible, at least in Australia. Maybe the planet itself will get lucky and our demise will result from a worst-case plague. Then, the roaches can get their shot at stardom; Radical Roach, Beyond the Roach Motel...

This you knows: the years travel fast and time after time I done the tell. But this ain't one body's tell; it's the tell of us all, and you've got to listen it and [re]'member, 'cause what you hears today you gotta tell the birthed tomorrow. I's lookin' behind us now, into history back. I sees those of us that got the luck and started the haul for home and I 'members how it led us here and how we was heartbroke 'cause we seen what they once was. One look and we knew'd we'd got it straight. Those what had gone before had the knowin' and the doin' of things beyond our reckonin', even beyond our dreamin'. Time counts and keeps countin' and we knows now, findin' the trick of what's been and lost ain't no easy ride, but that's our trek. We gotta travel it and there ain't nobody knows where it's gonna lead. Still, in all, every night we does the tell so that we 'member who we was and where we came from. But most of all we 'members the man who finded us, him that came the salvage, and we lights the city not just for him but for all of 'em that are still out there, 'cause we knows there'll come a night when they sees the distant light and they'll be comin' home.

Blogging While Famous

2006-09-10T11:13:00.000-04:00

Being famous carries with it much responsibility. As a celebrity of dubious influence, it is incumbent upon me to examine closely the state of affairs of this world and make public my observations, as seen through the eyes of one who sees things sometimes just a tad differently than most. If my observations seem obvious to you, then go to the head of the line and collect your prize. If not, then think a moment, evaluate what I have said against all available evidence, and go from there, secure in the knowledge that you have been exposed to a possible epiphany. Am I right all the time? Is my outlook gospel? Of course not. That would be incredibly boring, if for no other reason than I know everything and have nothing left to do and might as well off myself. Besides, you soaking up what I have to offer and providing your own interpretations help me to fine-tune my wisdom so that the truth I do claim to know is somewhat closer to the ACTUAL truth. I already know that 4 plus 4 equals 8, but 4 of what, and what effect does the nature of the 4 things I added to the other 4 things have on the actual sum of the 2 sets? Ya never know..........

Now that I have that peculiar disclaimer out of the way, I can proceed to illuminate the dark corners of todays' occurrences, the state of matters as they exist, and how all these things might kill us all in some unknown future.

One thing I'd like to mention with a bit of smug hilarity is the fact that if I get pulled over for a DUI, not many people will know about it. So, Paris, you go girl! Be FAMOUS! Me, I'll just rest in the comfort of my second rate infamy. And drive my vehicle sober.

The space shuttle FINALLY got off the ground today. I personally do not mind if a launch is delayed, because I'm in no big hurry to see another group of brave astronauts get fried because someone was in a hurry to get things going. We still have a long way to go before we come up with a way to get from here to there as easily and carefree as we here down on the ground do with our automobiles, and even vehicles stuck to the ground have a sad habit of killing us, so safety first, I say.

We are coming up on the 5th anniversary of the 9/11 tragedy, and Osama Bin Laden is still safely hidden away in some decked-out cave in Northern Pakistan. The man who claims to be president is still trumpeting how safe he and his cronies have kept us since that horrible day, despite the fact that we have now lost more lives in Iraq than we did on 9/11. Tell me, don't you normally lose more lives fighting a war than you do cleaning up the mess afterwards? Is Dubya reading the "how to fight a war" manual backwards or something? He did say, "Mission Accomplished", didn't he? Well, didn't he? I was asked how history would look back upon these days and describe them. Well, you have to remember that history is written by the victors. Only when you go back and dig up private memoirs and hidden accounts of events are you able to truly assemble an account of events untainted by political distortions. I remember the pap I was fed in school back in the 60's, history that left out the trail of tears, the oppression of segregation, the radiation that drifted throughout the country from the nuclear tests. Even now, if you tune to talk radio with a clear partisan bent, you will hear such a twisted and one-sided description of current events you might be tempted to wonder what planet these people are on. When you listen to the news my friends, please remember that there are always two sides to every story, and you usually have to blend the two accounts together to arrive at any semblance of the truth. One day, white haired old veterans of Iraq are going to tell stories of what happened there to their grandkids. I suspect those stories are not going to be pretty. But they will be the truth.

The man who claims to be president actually came out and admitted that there are "secret prisons" scattered about, places where we can interrogate terror suspects without having to worry about all those inconvenient rules against torture, circumvention of due process, etc. I suspect he must have been convinced that smoking gun evidence was about to be leaked and so he beat them to the punch, acting like it was no big deal. This man is pissing me off. Bill Clinton was impeached because he got a blow-job. Dubya is making a mockery of everything this country has stood for. Am I the ONLY goddamn American who thinks this son-of-a-bitch ought to be charged with treason? Sigh, I must be fucking mad if that's truly the case.......

With all this acrimony over terror suspect detentions in places like Guantanimo, I would like to bring up an observation which threatens the complexity of the whole process. Look, since time immemorial, it has been understood that the only people who have any carte-blanch to carry weapons and attack other people are those sanctioned as warriors or policemen by an established government of a sovereign state. Any one else who acts to kill people, be it by machine gun or bomb, is outside this definition, and are simply criminals, or more precisely, murderers. Terrorists fall easily into this category, whether or not they are supported covertly by some state or are harbored within them. If the guy you capture shooting at you or setting off bombs in market places does not have a military ID, then you haul his ass to jail, you put him on trial, you find him guilty based on the evidence, and then you put him away forever or fry his sorry ass. It's that simple. Just because he's crazier than your home grown gang banger, has access to heavy weaponry, whatever the case, he is still outside the code of military justice, but falls under civil law, and can be dealt with just as easily. You don't have to torture him to get a confession, you don't have to hide the evidence that proves him guilty, you don't have to keep him hidden away incognito without access to a lawyer. The only reason you would want to go to such extremes to deal with such people is some kind of desire not to have to abide by the rule of law, which is the only thing which separates people like us from people like them. By acting this way, you BECOME them. And we don't want THEM running this country of ours.

I hear alot of people are upset that Pluto has been downgraded from planetary status to mere planetoid. Well, it makes perfect sense that a celestial body barely the size of a moon should not be considered a planet in the truest sense of the word. There are plenty of objects that orbit this star that are just as worthy as pluto if you want such things considered as planets, and there are just to many of them to invite them all in for no good reason. I suppose the scientific department of naming things should have thought about all that before they allowed Pluto to be considered a planet to begin with. Well, I say let's just keep cute little Pluto in our hearts as a favored celestial body and leave it at that. I'm sure it's not going to effect the astrologers all that much.

I'm already late with this post so I might as well shut up now and get it published. Thank Bob I'm not being paid for this, having to meet deadlines and having my content picked over by lawyers and bean-counters. That would REALLY derail my train of thought, and believe me, you wouldn't want a train loaded down with what's in MY brain running off the tracks! Till next post, merry meet, merry part, and merry meet again.

Epic announcements and other such nonesense......

2006-09-05T21:32:00.000-04:00

Well, let's see, what can I come up with tonight? The news was pretty interesting. Pakistan has announced a deal with the Taliban, Al Quida, and any other terrorist miscreant who can agree to behave themselves, by resting comfortably in a remote and so-far unsuppressed mountainous region between Government controlled Pakistan and Afghanistan. It's a sort of "we'll quit coming after you and getting killed doing so if you'll agree not to keep killing us for trying to bring you to justice and establish the rule of law in our own sovereign territory", kind of understanding. Wow, is that a deal or what? I'm sure Dubya will come up with some good-old-boy euphemisms to explain to us, the victims of the worst terrorist attack in history, why our partners in the war on terror really know how to fight terrorism. No, folks, I'm not kidding, this was on the news tonight. Really. I swear to Bob.

In other news, NASA has introduced the winner of the new, state of the art manned mission vehicle that will take us to the moon, and who knows, maybe even back again. Utilizing everything we've learned since the Apollo moon missions, shuttle technology, and advanced materials and electronics advances, we have...........Apollo. Yep. The exact, in most respects, same vehicle. One big cone-shaped capsule on top of big tanks of rocket fuel. Only THIS time (get this, it's good), the capsule will land not in the ocean, but on DRY LAND! That's right, folks, having watched the Russians land their spheres on the tundra with the assistance of air bags and/or thruster brakes, NASA has decided to forego the expense and relative softer landing in the ocean in favor of just dropping them right back where they started, saving all that jet fuel from out West hauling the craft on a 747. And, apparently instead of making it out of aluminum foil, only good for one shot, they will make it out of HEAVY DUTY aluminum foil, good for at least several more hauls back to the moon. Don't you just love advanced research and development? The Starship Enterprise is JUST around the corner folks! Just try finding that corner.....Oh, but there WILL be significant advances on the moon buggy we'll use to scoot around the moon. Same go-cart, except THIS baby will have air-bags, anti-lock brakes, and cup holders, not to mention an iPod adaptor on the dash board.

We watched Mad Max, Beyond Thunderdome, last night. My take on that movie requires a whole post, so stay tuned.

My friend HE just had an excellent post concerning everybody's chance to be a star, thanks to the blogoverse. Which segways me into my announcement.......

Ladies and Gentlemen, I am now famous. Yes, I, THE Michael, have embraced my fame and am running full-tilt boogie with it! WHAT, might you ask, makes me think I am in any shape or form worthy of fame? Hell, that one's easy! I said so. Just like someone somewhere, it might even have been her, hell, I don't know, declared that Paris Hilton was famous. Without even mentioning why, exactly. Because she was rich? An heiress? Skinny? And downright dimwitted? Who knows; it doesn't seem to matter. There she is. Well, so am I! Here, that is. Only I am introducing a kinder, gentler sort of fame, much more energy efficient and far less arrogant. Nope, I will not be making the rounds of all the talk shows, jumping up and down on couches like a monkey, having my mug plastered on the sides of billboards or buses, or even starring in an action packed special effects extravaganza concerning aliens or penguins. All I'm going to do is rest here on my laurels, comfortable in the knowledge that for no logical reason whatsoever, the word of my sudden fame will sweep the net like wildfire, as one blogger passes on the exciting news to the next, then the next, and so on. But, relax, my fans, this will be an easy idolatry. You won't have to rush out to buy a "THE Michael" action figure for the kids, or a lunch box or backpack with my picture on it, nor will you have to suffer the embarrassment of sneaking peeks thru the National Enquirer or other gossip rag while in the supermarket check-out counter to find out what fatal disease I am suffering from at the moment. You won't have to download my custom ring-tone, buy an autographed "The Michael" iPod or Razor cell phone, nor will you have to vote for me by text messaging BLOGSTAR SUPERDANCES. All you'll have to do, and you don't even HAVE to do it, it will just occur naturally like a stupid song that gets stuck in your head, is know THE Michael as someone who is famous for something or another, without having to explain why (just like Paris). Now, wasn't that easy? Never let it be said that THE Michael asked more of his fans than they were willing to give! In return for you love, loyalty, and support, I will do what I have always done, which is nothing more than being "THE Michael", whatever that might happen to mean to you.

P.S. I already have you covered, guys! Please send all hate-mail to theoprawinfreyshow@harpo.com. As my newfound publicist, she'd LOVE to hear from you!

Sins..........Part IV

2006-09-04T19:18:00.000-04:00

Presley had everybody crowded into the Officer's mess, and was standing at the head of the table trying very hard to calm down before he unleashed his frustrations upon the contact team, all of whom were standing at attention and staring straight ahead, perhaps hoping that the most rigid amongst them might not get singled out by the Captain for blame.

Finally, Presley spoke calmly and evenly.........."Fuck it, just sit down, except for you, Owens."

No one dared issue a sigh of relief as they all sat down and glanced sideways at the hapless Flight Officer who had been chosen to be raked over the coals first. The lander pilot remained at attention and stared straight ahead, his face as blank as he could possibly make it, not daring to express any emotion.

"Owens, first off, both you and your copilot were in charge of the base camp while we were away, and I distinctly remember saying out loud before we headed out to keep an eye on that fucking Chaplain! Second, I know damn well that a head count is called for, if nothing else than for weight and fuel management. Did you honestly expect us to do your God Damned checklist FOR YOU?!"

The Flight Officer stared straight ahead, and simply replied "No Sir!" as any good officer not looking to volunteer his faults would do. However, this particular pilot, whatever screw-ups he was responsible for, was damn lucky to have Presley for his Judge, jury, and executioner.

"Sit down Owens. Look, guys, I am responsible for the outcome of any mission under my command, and it's MY ass that's on the line if we lose the Padre. You know as well as I do, and it was aptly demonstrated down there on the planet, that the first thing that happens to any well thought out plan is that it falls apart as soon as you implement it, but that does NOT mean that we lose sight of the basic details, and that includes being responsible for one another. Not ONE of you looked around and noticed that the Chaplain was not with us when we lifted off, but neither did I, but even though you might think that means we're even, we are NOT! I know that each of you have specific responsibilities during this mission, but for Christ's sake people, let's not overlook the fucking OBVIOUS! Do you understand me!?"

A loud chorus of "Yes SIRS!" issued from the sullen ranks, and Presley moved on to the problem at hand. "OK, let's see if we can salvage this situation. "Townsend, did the drone catch any video of the camp that's of any use to us?"
The surveillance officer cleared his throat. "Ah, 'fraid not, Captain. We had it orbiting you guys while you were conducting the contact, and then we parked it at a higher altitude until and if we needed it again. We studied the archives and there's no record of what was going on back at base camp before you lifted off. Sorry, Cap."

"Shit", thought Presley to himself. That left them with two choices, either going back to the landing sight and tracking the Chaplain from there, if it was possible, or simply trying to contact the natives directly and inquiring about the human's whereabouts, which Presley was loath to do considering the natives' allergy to their presence altogether. "OK, then, I guess the best thing to do is program the drone to scan that road and see if we can either pick up some tracks or if we're lucky, the Padre himself. In the meantime, I want you, Gunny, to assemble a rescue team, only this time just forget about the optic camo, since it doesn't seem to work. We'll assemble in the dock in one hour. Townsend, I want every sensor you have locked on us at all times. And be sure to let me know immediately if the natives make any contact; I want to avoid any misunderstandings they might infer from us returning to the planet. I just want to get the Padre back in one piece and get the hell away from this side of the planet. We can worry about a second attempt at negotiations once we fix THIS mess we got ourselves into."

Presley dismissed them and headed for his stateroom to make a log entry concerning the day's activities, as was required by regulations. He didn't try to dress up the fiasco or try and place blame on any person under his command; he knew that if heads were going to roll it was going to be his, so he reported the facts, dry and without any window dressing. Hopefully, the next entry would negate the effects this one was sure to have on his career.

The Captain showed up at the dock precisely an hour later, and the Marine had his team assembled next to the lander as ordered, this time made up of a squad of 12 marines, all wearing the standard digital camo common to any land based grunt. Instead of the standard light weaponry, most were equipped with medium range stun weapons, and several of his best snipers were included. They were not out to start a war, just recover a man. Marines NEVER left a man behind, not even one who couldn't preach and chew gum at the same time. The Flight Officer, still chaffing from being chewed out by the Captain, gingerly briefed Presley on his flight plan, which would bring them down much further from the landing zone, in hopes of not alerting the locals of the town to their return, which would be much more visible in a night sky. He would fly them in low over the tree tops to the meadow and set down only several hours before sunrise. The Captain nodded his agreement, for lack of any better ideas.

As the hatch on the frigate opened and dropped the lander a second time, the object of their wasteful fuel expenditure was sleeping in a nice bed in the company of an alien race, having just enjoyed a strange and wonderful dinner served to him by his native hosts, instead of being shackled in some dungeon as he might have expected. As he slept, he dreamed of bringing Jesus to a world that didn't seem to know him. He slept the sleep of ignorance.

Mindflow

2006-09-01T22:26:00.000-04:00

All hath dominion over all beneath it, yet all above toters on foundation, and you and I and every blade of grass and every wisp of fog is foundation, and thus is it's own dominion. As a solar flare might sear a moon, as an earthquake might turn to dust a pyramid, as a drop of water might bore a hole thru a mountain, thus will your spirit and those of all those who have passed and those yet to come, witness it all in all it's glory. Time is past, is now, and will be, thus is one thing known to the watchers. Life is unseen all about us, or is mammoth and imposing, yet it is all the same. A tree that knew your ancestors, an insect that lives, breeds, and dies in a mere moment, both have lived. Death knew drunks in gutters, sick babies in the helpless arms of poor mothers, and Pharaohs, for all have, and will, die. And the vacuum and darkness of space knows only things unseen, yet they are there.

Do not presume to know thyself, for you only know the moment and that kept in memory, but not what came before, nor that which comes afterwards. It is a precious puzzle given you to solve. Do not presume to know others, for what you see of them, hear of them, and suffer of them are mere illusion, for they are only passing whims in a greater show. Do not presume to want, for you can barely grasp what you have, or what it means to have. Having is fleeting, and will only become wanting once again. It is amazing simply to be.

Far beneath is a world grander than all the sky above you. Further beneath even that, the laws we live by are laughed at, twisted, ignored or altered altogether, and yet it all works just fine. There a language remains to be spoken, and here we strive to learn it. It is a all glorious gibberish.

If you think this wisdom, think again. And again. For wisdom comes to those who gather it from their own labors. I stand upon the world. Beneath my feet is the sand. I do not know this for having been told. I know things you cannot, for they are born of my own perspective. You know things which are meaningless to me, for you gathered it to yourself via your own perception. A wise man wills the nail into the wood. A smart man uses a hammer. Are we asleep yet?

These words were not crafted in the great beyond. No prophet delivered them from the lips of the divine. No bush combusted and introduced the art of stone tablet calligraphy. And no one proclaimed these words as anything but words, strung together in a fashion designed to entertain more than enlighten, for what is enlightenment other than coming across a series of ideas that may or may not speak to you for some reason only known to your outer cortex?

Thank you for your endurance. A better man or woman or curious child would have dismissed such drivel halfway thru act one. An even better man, or woman, or child which should not even be reading this, will leave a comment, hopefully a kind one.

Bob, is that you?

Assimilation Damnation

2006-09-01T13:26:00.000-04:00

People love, nay, I dare suggest they need, to gather beneath banners, to wear labels, to identify with a group, a tribe, a nationality, a religion. Going one's own way, content in their private beliefs, satisfied with their personal identity independent of of any one institution or political entity, seems to be difficult for a human being to live with. It seems we just simply have to belong. No man is an island, it is said.

Being an integral part of the collective can have it's advantages, as well as disadvantages, both for the individual, and the collective. The effects of this on the individual can range from the mildly bothersome to the downright oppressive, depending on the form of government the particular collective has found itself governed by. I say "found itself", because in most cases you are born into an established society that was formed long before you came along, in which you as an individual have little impact on, save for your individual vote, if you are fortunate enough to enjoy the relative joys of living in a democracy. However, your comfort level, being a part of this collective, is largely dependent upon how strongly the rule of law is obeyed, for selective enforcement of the will of the collective can have a disproportionate effect on you if you have chosen or have otherwise unwittingly found yourself belonging to the wrong subset within that collective. I think Jews, African Americans, homosexuals, and other distinct groups can testify to this fact.

So why in the hell would any one individual want to risk being identified with any one group within a collective, if the risk of being in the wrong one can cause you to have a somewhat difficult life, if not a downright short one? Well, it's a form of gambling, actually, that you have identified the right group to belong to, thus enjoying the power, prestige, or whatever protection belonging to this group can afford you. Now, this only applies to those who have the good fortune to have the credentials necessary to belong to these groups, such as skin color, socioeconomic status (most often times passed down to you by ancestry), or religious affiliation. If you don't have these basics, you are shit out of luck. However, presently, in this country at least, being white, rich, republican, and Baptist, you hold the keys to the kingdom. This will not always be the magic recipe, of course, for eventually the manner in which you handled your ownership of those keys is going to effect you, or your offspring, in ways that are proportional to the pain and suffering your stewardship caused others. Kenneth Lay, I believe, might be able to shed some light on this particular side effect of stewardship gone wrong. If he were alive, that is. The stress of an impending relationship with a cell mate named Bruce was probably to much for his heart to bear. So much for belonging to the right club.

So, what is the point of all this fanciful illumination? I have a suggestion. Exercise the power of ONE. Believe whatever you wish to believe, live your life according to any set of laws that float your boat, or at least keeps you out of trouble, but if you really want to enjoy the fruits of your own good sense of direction, avoid rock solid affiliation with any established group whatsoever. Oh, you can support a cause, talk up the good points of whatever philosophy makes most sense to you, but other than that, burn any card you might be carrying in your wallet, disincline to answer any question designed to pigeonhole you group wise, and keep your own counsel. When the lynch mob makes it's rounds, you won't have a big red target painted on your chest. When the trials begin, you won't have to attempt to parley that age old excuse, "I was only following orders." And last, but not least, you'll cut down on alot of junk mail, since no group will know you exist.

Till next time, this is THE Michael, brother to all, related to none..........

Sins..........Part III

2006-08-31T18:44:00.000-04:00

The Right Reverend Mossuca was not used to being chastised and humiliated, especially in front of enlisted men, and he was not happy. He had jumped at the chance to see to the spiritual health of these brave explorers, and to possibly bring the love of Jesus Christ to a whole new world, providing, of course, that Christ hadn't gotten there first. The Grand Christian Council of 2035 had agreed, once it was established that Earth was not the only inhabited world in the universe, that as God had created ALL the heavens as well as the Earth, that it was their holy duty to spread the good word wherever mankind might tread. As was true with the savages of the Amazon jungle, then so true must it be that all must be saved, regardless of their species. If they could think, they could know God.

Well, so much for that. Presley had ordered him to remain at the camp while they ventured out of the meadow to make contact with the natives, so afraid was the Captain that Mossuca would run at the natives with a crucifix, starting a galactic war or something. He would make a point of reporting the Captain's crude behavior and robbing him of the chance to do his job, so help him.

The chaplain glanced over at the lander and saw that the flight crew was pretty much ignoring him, doing their preflight check-ups and monitoring the video feeds from the contact party. Good. Mossuca's mind raced as he tried to figure out how to spend this unexpected free time. Perhaps a nice walk down that road in the opposite direction....perhaps he'd find a road sign or something he could study. He hated the prospect of returning to Earth with absolutely nothing to show for it. The pilot and copilot of the lander didn't notice the chaplain walk briskly out of the meadow, a new testament in one hand, a video camera in the other. There would be hell to pay for them assuming the padre was capable of following orders.

Mossuca came out on the dirt road and saw the tire tracks left by the runabout going East, so he headed West. He figured he had a good hour before the contact team would be heading back this way, so he set the alarm on his watch for half an hour and started walking. It felt good, a nice comfortable walk on a clean, new world, the sounds of the nature, although hidden, was quite pleasant. My, if only Man had been as gentle with the Earth as these people seemed to have been, he thought to himself. As he walked, he glanced from one side of the road to the other, looking for evidence of the people who lived here, and saw nothing but the strangely smooth road he walked upon. He made it perhaps a mile before he was almost scared out of his skin by the seemingly sudden appearance of the strange conveyance in front of him, hovering silently about six inches off the dirt road, it's occupants equally surprised by HIS appearance. So intent had he been studying the sides of the road that he had almost run right into it. As he stood stock still staring at this strange contraption, which looked like the top of an old wooden wagon, sans the wheels, yet supported by SOMEthing, the two people sitting on the bench in front stared back at him, as though wondering what this strange man was doing in the middle of the road. They seemed to be a pair, one appearing more masculine than the other, yet both wore basically the same kind of clothing, and the one that appeared to be female was slightly smaller with a thicker covering of the fuzz-like hair on her head, as well as having a more delicate structure to her face. Not knowing what else to do, the Chaplain put on his best smile, raised his bible, and spoke softly, "Greetings, my friends, I bring greetings from the God fearing people of the planet Earth!"

The two natives stared at him, then glanced at each other, shrugged their shoulders, and one spoke back with a melodic, but totally strange dialect. It sounded like a question, but he could not be sure, so he stepped to the side of the road and continued, "I'm afraid I don't speak your language, friends, but perhaps we have something in common." He reached inside his tunic and pulled out his silver crucifix on a chain, and held it up to show the two strangers. The only reaction could best be translated as "Yes? Your point?"

Mossuca sighed, knowing that without the help of a translator, he wasn't going to accomplish much, especially since these two did not seem to recognize the cross of Jesus. However, his curiosity concerning the craft they were riding on took over, and he knelt down on the ground to look beneath it, trying to get an idea of what was supporting it. Perhaps it was some sort of maglev device, the opposing magnets hidden beneath the road. All he saw underneath was a flat, metallic appearing bottom, with nothing like wires or coils visible. Hmmmm, backwards these folks weren't, he thought, if they could come up with something like this. He stood back up next to the craft, and looked up just as the woman, if that's what he/she was, reached down, took his hand, and pulled him up onto the "wagon" as though he was a child. My GOD these people are strong, he thought, as he was lifted up and sat down on the flat back of the conveyance. He started to protest, but held his tongue, thinking they just wanted to give him a lift. However, they did not continue down the road in the direction he had just came, but by bending a simple joystick control, made the craft rotate 180 degrees on it's axis, and then by gently pushing forward, they were gliding back in the direction they had come. Mossuca was so amazed by the ease of this method of transportation that he forgot to think that maybe he was being kidnapped. Besides, these two seemed so nonchalant about the whole thing, as if they were used to picking up strange looking people in the middle of the road. Mossuca smiled at the possibility that he might be able to redeem himself after all, perhaps making a more favorable contact with these aliens than even the so-called experts with the contact team. True to his nature, the Chaplain had no idea how much he was going to complicate things in the days to follow.

My Life without Paper

2006-08-30T19:59:00.000-04:00

I was once smarter, and by association, a better person, than I am now. This statement is based on the societal declaration that "educated" people, that is, people taught things in institutions of higher learning, are more valuable. So, for awhile, while I was laboring through algebra, learning that pi squared by the hypotenuse of the tangent of the integer closest to infinity at 5 p.m. on a wednesday enabled you to create the cutest doilies, I was quite intelligent. I also was illuminated as to the latin names of all the bones that make up the skull, and even what goes in most of them (skulls, that is), even if they are republican. I was taught who said what about whatever several centuries ago, in ways that haven't been used in centuries, but sound cool nonetheless. I was taught what group of people killed which group of people and why, or at least why the victors of those unfortunate incidents said was the reason. Yes, I was one intelligent son of a bitch, at least for awhile. I forgot about 75% of everything I "learned" shortly afterwards. I know I learned it because I passed all the tests. Everything except algebra, that is.

It has been eons since I earned my GED in order to join the Navy since I didn't have any parents to keep me fed through my senior year. Since I didn't get that diploma and wear that funny gown and hat, I suppose I am somewhat dumber than those of my class that did. I don't think, even to this day, that they realize how lucky they were to have had a home during their senior year. I had a barracks, but at least I got to skip the finals. The Navy didn't hold it against me, though. They put me through a battery of tests and decided I could handle "A" school, which turned me into a Personnelman, and submarine school, which turned me into a squid. Much later, when I was one lonely Petty Officer in a reserve unit with any active duty experience, the officers didn't think it was too much to ask for me to run the whole admin department, such that it was. It WAS to much, however, for me to do it for over six months without getting a paycheck. I might have only had a GED, but I was no dummy.

When I became a machinist trainee, my pathetic ability with algebra didn't prevent me from acing the basic math tests, prevent me from utilizing algebraic formula reference manuals for machinists, or embarrass the "instructor" in machine blueprint reading by pointing out the numerous errors he was committing trying to teach the class. I think they put him with us to keep him off the machines.

When they offered to send me to nursing school after being laid off from a government job (as a machinist), I knew I wasn't "smart" enough to try college, but I gave it a shot, because, hell, I could continue to collect unemployment. Breezing through everything (except algebra, of course) kinda opened my eyes to the truth of "higher" education. The way I see it, there are a whole bunch of "educated" people who are so smart they can only function making other people smart, thus you have all these institutions of higher learning. It doesn't really matter whether or not you are going to actually learn anything of real value; the idea here is to put in your time, employing these "smart" people, and in return you are handed a piece of paper which informs the world that you have joined the ranks of the properly educated, and thus, better people. Oh yea, sure, you might spend most of your time drinking obscene amounts of alcohol, having lots of sex, and learning how to cheat on tests, but that's the price you pay if you want to be handed lots of money for knowing things. Oh, and it helps to join a fraternity and meet the right people so that the alumni of that fraternity will hand you a cushy job when you graduate, because you ARE a much better person. Now, since I was pursuing my degree in a "lower" tier of these institutions of "higher" learning (community college), I didn't have a fraternity to join, so I didn't get to meet the right people to get drunk with. Alas, I coulda been a contender......I coulda been George Bush.

Now I have graduated to the AARP mailing list. I didn't make it through nursing school, having run into the wrong instructor, and being the wrong kind of person to run into that instructor. So, without that piece of paper, I have settled for being an aid to people who have the piece of paper. They are much smarter than me, and they certainly are better. Now, I am left with learning worthless things on my own by reading and watching television. Televisions and books do not have a slot on them that dispense pieces of paper that inform the world that you know something. And, if you have been reading this blog for any length of time, it is quite evident by my writing style that I am truly lacking in the knowledge necessary to impart anything of value. However, in my own defense, I would like to say, proudly, that this column is not ghost written, does not rely on Cliff's notes, and was not plagiarized in any manner, even though doing so certainly would have greatly enhanced the quality of this humble little rant. I drink alone while doing this, since I don't have fraternity brothers to keep me properly inebriated. I will not go to spring break this year, and I think that makes my wife fairly happy.

I was once very angst ridden about having a GED, not having earned a college degree, and having an allergy to algebra. Yep, I was truly one humiliated individual, that is, until I was asked by a manufacturer of model rockets to give a seminar to a room full of high school science teachers. People with PAPER. Well.............Since that fateful day, I have come to happy terms with my lack of all that paper. If you had witnessed the behaviors these learned individuals displayed in that class that day, I think you would understand why I, THE Michael, mostly self-taught and happily ignorant, am happy not to be a member of that club.

I have witnessed better behaviors in hamster cages then I did in that room. You can HAVE your paper. I'll take what knowledge I gathered my way any day.

The Storm that wasn't, and things that were.......

2006-08-30T11:43:00.000-04:00

Oh well, so I gave Ernesto more credit than he deserved, but hey, masculine storms have only been around for a few years, they haven't quite got the hang of this "wide swath of destruction" thing yet. Give them a few more seasons, and the guys will show those girls what barometric reconstruction is all about.

This hurricane season is really starting off weird. By this time last year the whole SouthEast was getting rearranged, but we're off to a slow, and somewhat anemic start this year. I think I heard someone saying something about Saharan dust storms covering the Atlantic and possibly cutting down on the heat engine these storms depend on for food. Who knows. However, before you "Ain't no such thing as global warming" dimwits start chiming in about how last year was just a "cycle", I would like to suggest that you put your money where you brains should be (should be plenty of room in there to stash some cash) and buy up some nice beach-front property down here in sunny Florida, if you can find insurance. There's a storm forming out there somewhere with your name on it. It wants to meet you. I LIKES you. You two were made for each other. Me, I'm gonna hold my breath up here in the sweet spot and ask Mother Gaia to save her wrath for the likes of you.

As irritated as I've become with the genre, I have to admit that they put on one kick-ass concert on Rock Star Super Nova last night. After the first few performances, I was thinking that my personal favorite, Dilana, really had her work cut out for her for the first time in the competition. These guys were ROCKIN! Well, true to her history of kicking ass and taking names, Dilana kicked ass, and took names! The only thing keeping her from fronting Super Nova is going to be the public, who in the past have at times proven that good taste is not a given. Not that in the grand scheme of things I really give a rats ass who gets to get rich living a life of rock and roll debauchery with a manufactured rock band, but I think she's truly talented, as are all these survivors, and I wish her the best.

I would like to thank the two, maybe three people who have been keeping up with my short story. I am so thankful, in fact, that anyone noticed it was there, that If someone steals the idea and publishes it, winning the Nebula Award for Science Fiction in the process, that I will personally shoplift a few copies of the book, sign them, and send them to you. I am nothing without my loyal fans. Knowing my luck, it'll be Stephen King, in which case I'll really feel guilty for having done it. Stolen the books, that is.

The wife's finger is beginning to resemble an appendage again. It's slightly shorter and still kinda weird looking, but it could pass as a finger on just about any hand. We are hoping like hell that the bone in there is fusing like it's supposed to, because we really don't want to go thru that "cut it open and install some more hardware" fiasco again. I'm considering telling her to just let them cut it off and making a nice charm out of it, but I'm not sure she'll consider it a very charming idea. Me so bad.

The politicians are back to their mudslinging again. You see, when you personally don't have a leg to stand on when it comes to convincing voters that you should be elected, the only thing left to do is make your opponent seem to be satan incarnate, or at least a liberal. What I think is hilarious is how many of our conservative wannabe's are invoking the name of Ronald Reagan rather than "that guy who's president". "No folks, we had nothing to do with whatever has what's-his-name so down in the polls, but rest assured, we are gonna keep doing what we've been doing these past eight years, only BETTER!" Oh, really. Thanks.

Meanwhile, DUBYA is down in what's left of the Gulf Coast area promising to help them folks rebuild......one of these days. He's so proud of those folks who put their noses to the grindstone and stayed the course and.............God bless America! Please explain to me why this man wasn't lynched?

Continuing on, average Americans continue to put up with gas they can't afford, insurance they can't get, and low-low wages at Walmart. What was it, two hundred odd years ago, a bunch of lowly colonists got so pissed off about taxes on tea (Juan Valdez hadn't made the big time yet), they threw a party and caffeinated Boston harbor? The fish were said to be rather feisty for weeks afterwards, Oh, and a bloody revolution occurred shortly thereafter. What's happened to us since those halcyon days when people just didn't put up with shit? When did we get so lazy that the idea of having a King again rather than having to do the work of democracy become so attractive? How is it so many so-called citizens don't seem to have a clue as to what is in the Constitution and the Bill of Rights? I don't know about you, but the country I grew up in seems to have gone missing. So, if come election time, you're not to busy polishing your SUV and firing some more employees to get the stock price up, go out and vote conservative again, and let's just put this once-great nation out of it's misery.

Last night there was another farewell post from Shandi. Me, I'm hoping it's just another in a long series of farewell tours, the kind that aging rock bands like to conduct, having discovered they can't get what they've done most of their lives out of their systems. Shandi helped set the standard in amateur blogging, whether or not she believes it or not. Her fans know. She may think that the 15 odd minutes every other day that she devoted to blogging was stealing time from her life, but eventually she's going to understand that those 15 minutes were as fulfilling a part of that life as all those other things she wants to pursue. The withdrawal pains will creep in, the shakes, the night-sweats, the foaming at the mouth, and she'll persevere, stealing herself against the pain, telling herself over and over again that blogging was just a silly fling she needs to get over. She will start having a strange aversion to computers, and will seek counseling. Then one day, she'll find herself tied in four-point restraints on the psych ward of her local hospital, repeating over and over again, "Tim, The Michael, Lights, oh, the LIghts!!!!!!!"

Oh, the humanity...............

Till next time, this is THE Michael, wasting another fifteen minutes of your time and mine. Peace!

Blowjob Anyone?

2006-08-27T20:44:00.000-04:00

Well, after getting off to a slow start, the hurricane season is out the gate and headed down the straight-away, straight at guess who. Yep, you got it, the National "We think it might rain" Agency has predicted that Ernesto will pass right through the Jacksonville area, give or take a state or two. Over the past several seasons, it has seemed that Jacksonville has enjoyed the status of being a "sweet spot", able to dodge repeated storms while all around us the state has been torn up pretty badly. They've brushed past us to the west, breezed on by to the East, but the worst we have suffered so far are some fairly stiff breezes, and maybe a spun-off tornado or two, but relatively unscathed as severe weather goes. I've been knocking on wood till my knuckles have bled, especially since I live in a stout and sturdy manufactured home, a kind moniker for "hurricane bait", or as our brethren in the MidWest like to refer to them, "tornado bait".

My prediction is this, and you can poke fun at me later for being wrong, for all the good it will do you since I won't have a computer, or a home to get on line from, if I AM wrong; If Ernesto follows the predicted path, it will make landfall just south of Tampa, barely a category three after passing over Cuba and sucking up some heat from the brief passage between there and Florida. Once it makes contact with the sunshine state, it will immediately begin to degrade as it spends it's fury upon our lucky neighbors to the south. By the time it has eaten it's share of mobile home parks between Tampa and Gainesville, it will arrive as nothing but a robust tropical storm, or even a depression (how depressing!), and our plants will get one hell of a healthy watering, and the dead limbs in our trees will get blown down. Then the remnants of the storm will proceed to dump unimaginable amounts of rain on Georgia and flood it out, since they have mountains which make for great mudslides and other wonders of nature when it's being bad.

Now, I am not actually tempting fate here, because since we HAVE avoided a major hit by a powerful storm all these years, chances are very good that another storm will be following Ernesto closely behind to show him how it's done. Probably some bitch named Freda.

Sins of the Fathers (Part II)

2006-08-26T15:01:00.000-04:00

Faced with the absurdity of the situation, Presley still had the presence of mind to deal with possibilities, and reacted accordingly. "Marines, mind the perimeter, this could be a distraction! Report ANY hostile movements, but do not, I repeat, do not use your weapons unless we are attacked." He spoke softly, confident the com-link would convey his command without having to shout to the four scouts in their optic camo who were guarding their outer flanks. As he studied the strange greeting party in front of them, he reached over and tapped the exo-biologist on the arm. "Flanders, this reminds me of an old twen-cen television show my grandfather told me about. It was called "The Twilight Zone", and this is just the sort of strange shit that would make a perfect screenplay for that show. Explain to me how this is possible."

Flanders was apparently taking this all in much better than the rest of them, for his comeback was measured, with more academic interest than fear. "Well, Cap, it's kinda obvious. Apparently they have access to more tech than we give them credit for. The first transmissions we made via television back in the 1940's was made by Germany, and I think they picked it up and think this is the standard by which to communicate with us. If that's the case, they're gonna have a really screwed up idea of what we are all about."

It made perfect sense to Presley, but it also meant their jobs were going to be that much harder. But at least they had a basis to start with as far as making contact. But that idea started dying a slow death when he turned around and looked at Williams, the team linguist. Williams was swallowing hard, and had a not-so-good look on his face. Oh crap.

"Williams, please don't tell me that German is the one Goddamn language you don't know!" The linguist looked at him helplessly. "Mr Presley, I'm sorry, but I really am not all that fluent in many languages........my expertise is in establishing commonalities in communication methods that we've hypothesized we might find in an alien culture. Why in the fuck would aliens be speaking German, anyway?" He dug thru his satchel and pulled out a little blue electronic tablet and seemed to be visibly relieved. "I DO have an English to multi-language translator, tho, so all is not lost!"

Presley shook his head, not the least bit surprised that things were already going wrong. The best laid plans of mice and men, indeed. He turned back to watch the performance which their welcoming party was putting on with seemingly genuine enthusiasm. On closer examination, it was apparent that these WERE aliens, though they did seem to fit the role of a brass band quite nicely. Their bare limbs displayed the sheen of a fine layer of fuzzy hair, their eyes were a bit larger and set further apart than a human's. and their head covering was uniformly close cropped and similar to the hair on the rest of their bodies, and their average height seemed to be around five feet, give or take several inches. Other than that, they didn't seem to differ that much from your average human.

Finally, the last bars of the polka were played out, and the conductor turned around and bowed gracefully towards the contact team, before strolling over, stopping right in front of Presley, and spearing his arm straight up and out, a very good and downright disturbing copy of a nazi salute, minus the "Heil Hitler!"

Presley groaned under his breath and poked the linguists arm. "OK, repeat after me, OK?" "Yes, Sir, fire away." replied the interpreter as he readied his little ersatz translator.

Presley stepped forward, and bowed slightly towards the native who had greeted them. "Greetings, my name is Captain Presley, and I represent the people of the Planet Earth, and would like to establish relations with your people." He kept his eyes locked on the little man in front of him as Williams fumbled with his gizmo and read from the screen. The little man glanced at the linguist in puzzlement and replied rapidly in German. " Du sprichst nicht Deutsches?"

Williams rapidly pressed some more buttons and rattled off another sentence in German. "Captain, he asked why you didn't reply in German and I'm about to tell him you speak a different language."

"OK, tell him we speak a language called English and we apologize for any confusion, and ask him if they can speak it."

Williams translated, and the native representative glanced back and forth between Williams and the Captain before abruptly turning around and walking back to the gathering behind him, who gathered around while he explained to them the snafu. There were some giggles, some groans, and some discussion, then the man returned to stand in front of Williams and spoke to him, still in German.

Williams listened intently, fiddled with his translator, then turned to Presley. "Captain, the guy says he is sorry that they made a mistake with the language, and asks that we make ourselves comfortable while he sends away for someone who might can talk with us. Seems to me they are trying very hard to accommodate us."

It was about this time that Presley noticed what appeared to be a native child standing over in front of where he thought one of the camouflaged guards was positioned, staring at the slight disturbance and laughing, as well as pointing. Shit, they can see our damn security", thought Presley, and keyed his com-link to the Marine Captain. "Gunny, I think we've been made. That kid over there seems to be able to see your trooper. Tell him to move slowly to his right, I want to see if this kid can track him."

Presley could just make out the distortion field of the guard as he slowly moved to the left, and sure enough, the kid laughed and followed him, thinking it was a fun game or something. He turned back to the gathering and noticed with curiosity that the welcoming party was ignoring the child and the trooper altogether, so he ordered the guard to stay put and keep the optic camo charged just in case.

The Captain sighed and told the contact team to chill and make themselves comfortable around the runner while they waited for their welcoming committee to come up with another speaker. He leaned against the front fender of the runner and took a draw from his water bottle as the exo-biologist joined him, staring intently at the natives. "You know, Cap, this kinda screws things up for us when you think about it. If they are advanced enough to receive and display television signals, then everything we assumed about them could be wrong. They could have their OWN version of cloaked security surrounding us right now and we wouldn't have a clue. We might even be lucky to get back to the ship alive if they perceive us to be the threat that you and I damn well know we could be."

"Well, sure, this ought to put an end to any ideas the Company might have had about exploiting this planet, but it doesn't mean we can't come to some trade agreement. I mean, look around, these folks don't seem to be putting alot of their metal and mineral resources to use, and Lord knows we are in dire need of it. Just because they figured out video transmission doesn't necessarily mean they are all that advanced in other areas, so there could be lots of things we could offer up in trade. What I don't understand, though, is why we didn't pick up any radiation of ANY kind of bandwidth if they have the capability to pick up video transmissions as they seem to be. How do they communicate? Maybe strictly by land line?"

"Possibly, Captain", replied Flanders, "but the surveys didn't note any power or telephone lines, at least above ground. I think we should shelve the speculation until they get back with an interpreter and just ask them."

It was much later in the afternoon before another group of natives joined the original party and huddled around in discussion, the original representative gesturing towards the contact team and speaking in what seemed to be their native tongue, which actually was quite pleasant to the ear. After about ten minutes of heated discussion, the group parted and two new natives came to stand in front of Presley and the team. These two appeared to be somewhat older in appearance, and were dressed in apparel that could be best described as colorful casual. The apparent boss of the two bowed towards Presley, and then started speaking, after which the other person immediately translated.

"Greetings, strangers, I am known as Asper, and I welcome your visit. The elder local to this area did not have the resources to study the language that you are using, and had to send for someone who did. I am also in a position to make decisions for our people, so I function as "the leader", whom I assume you wish to speak with. May I ask what brings you to our world?"

Well, thought Presley, so much for ignorant savages. They fully understood the concept of other species from other planets.

"Greetings to you, Asper", replied the Captain. "We are explorers from the planet known as Earth, and we seek out new worlds to colonize or conduct peaceful trade with. We would like very much to establish trade relations with your people, as well as exchange technology and knowledge that might benefit both of us."

The translator finished what Presley had said, and the leader listened, then studied Presley for a moment, and he wasn't exactly smiling, if you could read these alien's expressions correctly. "Captain Presley, we appreciate your stated desires to open up relations with us, but frankly, we feel there's nothing you would have to offer that would appeal to us in that regard. Also, if you came here in peace like you said you have, perhaps you could explain why you have armed men attempting to hide behind visual distortion fields? I'm sure your surveys did not detect anything down here that might be of a threat to your safety, at least from us. And, you can see that we have no weapons trained on you, either. Based on what we know of you, and we have had lots of your transmissions to study over the years, you are not a species that tends to behave in a peaceful manner. So, perhaps it would be best for both of our peoples if you were to return to your authorities and inform them that we do not wish to form a relationship, at least not at this time."

Presley, for the first time in his career, was left speechless, for there was not one thing this person had said to him that he could argue against. But, he had to at least try and salvage something out of this mission.

"Asper, it would seem that you know us well, and I can fully understand your reluctance to engage us. But I would like to at least mention that we have established strict codes of conduct as regards to contact with other species, and I can assure you that we pose no threat whatsoever to your people. There are plenty enough empty planets throughout this sector that we have no need to conquer territory in order to survive. Surely there are some medical technologies or something that we might could offer you that would enhance your quality of living? All we would seek in return are some needed mineral resources or drugs that you might have developed. And we are fully willing to abide by any conditions you deem necessary to conduct trade in a manner that does not infringe upon your sovereignty or your customs. Could we at least agree to further discussions between ambassadors of our respected societies?"

The leader did not ponder Presleys plea for very long before he spoke one final time, via his translator. "Captain, please do not think us rude, but we are well versed in your technological abilities, and we know there is nothing you have that would be worth the price of having it. Matter of fact, Captain, we have been where you are now centuries ago, and we were lucky to have survived it. No, Captain, please believe me when I say there are more reasons for us to remain unaffiliated with your species than there are to establish relations with you. Please return and tell your authorities not to send any more vessels. Have a pleasant trip home."

And with that, the leader, his translator, and the rest of the natives turned and headed back down the road towards the town, leaving the contact team in the middle of the road, staring at each other with that "what the fuck just happened?" look upon their faces. With a tone of exasperation, the Marine Officer ordered the security team to switch off the optic camo, which wasn't worth a crap anyway, apparently. "Well, Mr. Presley, I guess he told us, didn't he?" smirked the exo-biologist. "Short of gunboat diplomacy, I don't think there will be any more humans walking these roads again."

"Yea, but how are we to know that this guy was the sole authority when it comes to government on this planet? We might have just been told to go fuck ourselves by some low-level governor of just one of any number of states. Hell, we don't have one world government back on Earth; no reason to think this one would either. If I take us back to Earth without trying again at some other location, the Company, who really pays for these trips, will sure as hell have my stripes! Let's head on back and get out of here; maybe we can find another area under different management that might be more open to negotiations."

Flanders shook his head as he climbed back aboard the runner. "OK, Captain, but based on what I've seen so far, I think it's going to be a waste of rocket fuel. The surveys didn't seem to indicate any one area differing all that much in architecture or layout that would suggest differing cultures. I think this guy was serious when he said they finally got their shit together and settled down into a way of living that works for them. Who are we to go messing with that?"

Presley ignored him, even though he suspected the expert to be entirely correct. But he DID have higher authority to answer to, and he couldn't simply blow off the several billion dollar cost of this expedition without at least trying to get something positive accomplished. If the Free World Federation wanted to push the issue, they could return with a bit more persuasive manpower later; the frigate he commanded was not designed to attempt gunboat diplomacy with. Besides, there were other worlds without pesky populations on them to deal with.

The lander lifted off the surface of the serene planet as the sun was going down on the spot they had landed. Only this time there was no one with fire extinguishers in the meadow to put out the grass fires the lift jets set off. Or maybe there was. It wasn't until after the lander rendezvoused with the frigate and the airlock door had sealed shut did anybody notice that the chaplain wasn't onboard.

Sudden Impact

2006-08-24T22:29:00.000-04:00

"To be a witness to a man's deliverance upon his destiny, tis an imprint that does not fade, but is burnt forever into your knowing."

I said that. THE Michael.

I came to me about 38 seconds before I wrote it just now. But it was borne of the accident I witnessed yesterday driving the wife to work. I glanced up into my rear view mirror just in time to see an idiot, on a rice rocket, without a helmet, streaking down the opposite lane at about 85 mph into the side of a mini-van. It reminded me of those film clips you see of a missile impacting a tank. It was just about the most violent split second I ever witnessed. The rider, who was driving this bike like he'd stolen it and wanted to die real bad, did. REAL bad. The driver of the mini-van, an older lady, was a patient in my unit when I went to work this morning. She suffered badly enough, but was fortunate to be on the opposite side of the impact, as a passenger in that seat would have been lucky to survive at all. Fortunately, there was no passenger on that side, which was mangled and cratered as if it had encountered an IED on the streets of Baghdad. A sight like that is all it takes to remind you that shit came come out of nowhere and change your life forever, or end it altogether. So party. Party HARD.

In other news............well....fuck other news. I'm still thinking about yesterday.

A break from reality; Sins of the Fathers (Part I)

2006-08-21T19:48:00.000-04:00

Presley was amazed the corporation was even bothering with the first contact team. The robotic survey had made it clear that the limited sentient population of the new planet was no more advanced technologically than perhaps middle-ages Europe. There were no transmissions being picked up on any radio spectrum, the air was pretty much clear of any industrial age pollution, and the biggest settlements seemed to be no larger than a large township. Agriculture was evident, but scattered, and there was no evidence of massive engineering on any scale, such as would have been revealed of the Egyptians and Maya. Although optics revealed hominids, whether or not they were even mammalian in nature was not established as of yet. Another-words, this world was ripe for the picking, and mankind had a habit of taking things rather than just getting along. The colonization protocols of 2187 was supposed to prevent any behaviors compared to the concept of "manifest destiny" practiced by the colonial Americans, but corporations had a way to get around the spirit of the law, if not the technicalities.

A suitable landing site had been established not far from what seemed to be a good candidate for a governmental seat. The city, barely large enough to be referred to as one, seemed to be the oldest, with lots of architecture that seemed to speak to culture and authority. The landing craft didn't require a length of clear, flat land that a shuttle called for, so a remote clearing that could at least delay the onset of detection thanks to the surrounding forest was chosen. A clearing out of the landing site that allowed egress of the light recon vehicle made the site perfect.

The contact team was made up of five marines with optic camo and light weapons, an exo-biologist, a geologist, a resources evaluation tech from the company, a linguist, a government chaplain (whom he had argued forcibly against, but was overridden) and himself, the Captain of the contact frigate UNSS Columbus. Since the last great war that pitted Christianity against Islam, the church had insinuated itself so deeply into the Free World Federation that it threatened to do to secular government what the Islamic fundamentalists had done to the Middle East, which was ultimately to turn most of it into a radioactive desert with scattered plates of black glass here and there. It was a constant battle to keep the right wing of the government from gaining enough control to get the FWF into it with the East Asian Republic, that collection of asian nations pretty happy to remain relatively agnostic, if not downright atheistic. So far neither side had infringed on each other's colonies, which was fine with Presley, who was in no hurry to test out his ships actual deep space combat capabilities, which so far was more theoretical than demonstratively practical.

Presley patiently waited for the chaplain to finish up his impromptu prayer session with the Marines, who were always superstitiously happy to receive divine blessing before they embarked into the unknown. At least he knew their Commander to be more of the intellectual than your usual Marine, and no where near as trigger happy. Presley would not be a happy camper if one of the soldiers ended up actually shooting something simply because it moved. He prayed in his own way that their training was as good as he'd been led to believe. The chaplain, well, maybe they'd get lucky and he'd trip over something before he riled up the natives.

At last he was able to order the team to mount up and everybody secured themselves in the lander. The two pilots were not considered part of the survey team, and would remain in the lander at all times, ready to lift off at a moment's notice. Already an electric drone outfitted with an optic cloak was orbiting the landing site, ready to record the landing in case something went wrong or signals had to be amplified back to the orbiting ship. fifteen minutes later the preflight was finished, the airlock secured, and the egress doors opened beneath the lander, which would drop thru the opening and start it's descent burn. This was the part that Presley hated the most; the descent thru the atmosphere which would heat up the exterior of the craft and turn them into a fireball for a short while, since the engines were not efficient enough to provide for a drop slow enough to avoid the friction of the air. Still, it was no where near as hot a trip as that taken by a shuttle, which dropped like a brick at many times the speed of sound.

When the light show was over and he could see the topography below, Presley marveled at how clear the air was and how green and verdant the forests were below them as the craft descended on it's hover jets. He was equally impressed with how relatively quiet these new engines were considering how much thrust they produced, quiet enough he hoped not to herald their arrival to the locals, if there were any living in the immediate vicinity. It was always better to be able to scout the lay of the land before it was decided to walk up to some hapless "person" who wasn't going to be able to understand you and somehow convince them to "take you to their leader". Presley laughed at the irony of it, considering mankind had always assumed it would be aliens asking THEM.

As the lander approached the level of the treetops around the clearing, the copilot turned to Presley and keyed his intercom. "Captain, Sir, I HIGHLY recommend a couple of troopers egress with some fire extinquisers as soon as we kill the jets
, because it looks like were gonna light off a nice grass fire, which is gonna give us away right off the bat if anyone looks in this direction." Presley winced at not having thought of this during the mission planning, and relayed the order to the Marine officer in charge, who was already out of his harness and gathering his squad near the rear door. As his knees felt the pressure of the gentle landing, he shouted the order to exit the craft and secure the landing sight, while making a visual sweep of the field with the exterior camera, switching thru various spectrums to insure he didn't miss anything. Sure enough, he heard the swish of fire extinguishers being deployed as the rear ramp dropped and the Marines immediately tackled the burning grass all around the lander. By the time he'd made his visual sweep and headed back to the exit ramp, they had gotten the fire under control with barely a few wisps of black smoke to betray their landing.

All of them had on full facemasks with rebreathers, just in case, but the onboard air sampler buzzed the all clear and they thankfully removed them and sucked in lungfulls of crisp, clean, virgin air. They were just a handful of humans who had the pleasure of breathing air untainted by centuries of man-made pollution, and it's effect was more invigorating than any of them could have imagined. As the troopers surrounded the craft and swept the treeline for any movement, the pilots of the lander were getting the craft into quiet standby mode, and everybody just listened, to hear what the sounds of a new and alien world sounded like.

It was the most beautiful, gentle symphony of muted, natural sound he had ever heard. Birds, if that was what they were, twittered, tweeted and called all around them, the grasses rustled in the breeze, and raw, wonderful odors assaulted their noses, so different than those they had to endure in the confines of the frigate. The sun was now rising above the treeline, and one could not have seen the difference between this star and the one Earth orbited save for the clarity of the air which made everything seem more vibrant, even the dullest colors to vivid to dismiss. Just experiencing the beauty of this simple open meadow on this "clean" world suddenly made Presley want to get back on the lander and get them the hell off this world before they made any more impact on it. The natives certainly didn't seem to have ruined it, if they were ever going to. Presley knew in his heart what humans would do to it given half the chance. A shot at the mineral resources alone would scar the land and spread it's share of poisons all around.

A good half hour's worth of scanning, listening, plus reports from the drone overhead assured them that if their descent had been detected, the residents were apparently in no hurry to investigate. Either that, or they had been frightened half to death and were staying put in their town. Convinced the landing site was secure so far, Presley ordered the crew to set up the tents and equipment, while the Marine Commander and his motley crew got the runner out and ready to roll.

The planet's rotation was calculated to be twenty hours, 37 minutes, and the programmable watches were approaching 1000 hours, three hours after sunrise. Suddenly, it occurred to Presley that he had no idea what had happened to the Chaplain, whom he assumed must have remained inside the lander all this time. He walked back up the ramp and gazed into the interior, which was not brightly lit to conserve power. He keyed his communicator. "Hey, Franks, the Padre up there with you guys?" "No Sir, Captain, I thought he was out there with you."

"Oh shit", thought Presley as he ran back down the ramp and started looking around for the "extra baggage" he hadn't wanted to bring along to begin with. "All hands, report! I don't see the Chaplain. Where are you, Mossuca?" Silence for a moment, then a voice came back. "Captain, to your two o'clock! Over by the treeline!" The Captain's head whipped around and he scanned the perimeter in the direction directed. The sun was bright and still low, forcing him to squint, but he eventually made out the lone figure kneeling near the treeline, apparently in prayer.....Jesus Allah Christ! "Why in the hell isn't his comlink on? Gunny, get over there and drag his ass back to camp before he gets bit by something!"

The Marine motioned for two of his guys to follow him and they high-tailed it over to the kneeling figure. Presley tried not to laugh as they unceremoniously grabbed him by the arms and legs and carried him back in a run, the Padre kicking and shouting by the rough handling. They brought the angry Chaplain right to Presley and propped him up on his feet and went back to their activities without a word, leaving the fuming officer/baptist preacher shaking and red in the face.

"What in the HELL were you doing off by by yourself without your comlink on, MISTER Mossuca? Are you trying to ruin my perfectly good record at keeping my people alive and in one piece? There's no telling WHAT could have come out of that tree line and killed you! So help me, if you don't have the common sense necessary to keep yourself out of trouble, I WILL keep your ass locked up in the lander until we finish this mission! I might catch some hell for yelling at you back at CENCOM, but at least I won't lose my commission for letting you get bushwhacked, you got that?"

Mossuca's face said outrage and indignity at being dressed down by mere Captain, an atheist no less if his conduct was any indication, but he had been briefed before the mission and it was made clear that Presley was God as far as the chain of command was concerned, at least during the mission. And Presley's reputation and record would mute any complaints the Padre might be tempted to lodge against him, so he simply nodded and mumbled his apologies. There was more than one way to put a heathen in his place, back in the real world. Mossuca could bide his time till then.

Presley accepted the nod and left the Chaplain standing where he was, hoping the man of God would not provide him with any more distractions. The Marine Captain informed him when he got back to the tent that the runner was ready to go and the security team had tested the optic cammo with no problems encountered. Presley gathered up the other three team members, went over the contact procedure with them, and ordered everybody to mount up in the runner. The five Marines plus their Commander would walk ahead and around the runner with their optic cammo engaged, providing the element of surprise should they encounter a hostile response as they approached the town. One by one, the marines shimmered and faded from direct view as their cloaks were activated, which relied on some kind of fancy light bending technologies to make them blend in with whatever background they were viewed against. You could pick them out only if you knew what to look for. Presley was sure that the locals would consider this to be some sort of magic, if they understood the concept as ancient humans had.

With the runner loaded up and the escort deployed, they made their way quietly out of the clearing and through the wide path between the trees which would lead them to a simple dirt road at roughly a quarter mile in distance. Once on the road, the distance was about five miles to the town limits. Presley took out his remote and programmed the drone above them to orbit the contact party, to give him a heads-up on any encounter with a native on the road. Traveling at a leisurely 3 miles an hour, they made their way down the road, which as dirt roads went, was remarkably smooth and lacking in ruts or potholes. There was no sign of horse traffic or evidence of anything more advanced than perhaps a wagon.

The trip down the road was aggravatingly uneventful, for Presley had reasoned that they should have encountered SOME traffic on the way. Perhaps the town HAD been alerted to their presence and was expecting some sort of assault. He reminded the rest to keep alert in case they were walking into some sort of ambush, although the drone above was finding nothing on any spectrum that would indicate that to be in the works. It was about a quarter mile away from the edge of the settlement and just before a bend in the road that things really got surreal.

The surveillance drone buzzed him on the remote console and displayed a view of what seemed to be a small gathering on the road ahead, just out of sight around the bend. He ordered the party to stop and hold position as he zoomed in with the camera and studied the beings which seemed to be waiting for them. The thing that bothered him the most was what seemed to be several of the people (and yes, they pretty much looked like PEOPLE) looking up at the camera as though they could see the drone circling above them. Unless these people could see wavelengths of light that humans couldn't, they shouldn't be able to see the drone.
Powered by solar energy and a fuel cell, the drone was whisper quiet, but these beings might also be able to hear well enough to pick it up. He hoped it was an acoustic giveaway and not optical, if that was the case, for if they could see right thru the optic camo, the security team had lost a valuable advantage.

He shared his concerns with the rest of the team and it was decided that it would be a good idea to send one of the Marines ahead to reconnoiter the group before they came into sight around the bend. The order was barked, and an unseen marine kicked up some dust from the road as he jogged ahead of them. Presley waited for a painful eternity before the comlink crackled. "Captain, Sir, I don't think they see me, but.....well......you might as well come on, I don't know how to explain this......this is so fucking weird....."

"Stay put, Marine; we'll catch up to you. You see any sign of hostile intent, or fear perhaps?"

"No Sir......really, you have to see this for yourself. If I wasn't so weirded out I'd be laughing my ass off."

The runner made it around the bend, and everybody aboard could see what had the scout so flummoxed. Still, it was just about the last thing they could ever had expected to be greeting them on a dirt road on an alien planet...........

It looked alot like an old German Ompah band, complete with tuba's, assorted brass instruments, and people dressed up in short pants and suspenders, complete with the funny hats. The runner stopped, the contact team staring open mouthed at the sight, as the man in front of the welcoming committee turned around and began to conduct the group belting out a not-half-bad rendition of "The Beer Barrel Polka".

Aftermath of Weird, and another Plug

2006-08-19T23:04:00.000-04:00

The wife has healed sufficiently enough to return to work, and so have I, so it's back to real life. This has been truly a weird week, losing a good friend, suffering the slings and arrows of outrageous fingers, and other assorted aggravations. It has truly been a blessing having such an outlet as this blog to help me deal with my minor misfortunes, and I really appreciate the kind words of encouragement and empathy that all of my readers have so graciously given me and the wife.

Most of us at one time or another have given into the frustration of thinking they have been reduced to unheeded voices in the wilderness, based on the number of comments they have received on their blogs. I recently encountered one blogger who seems to have discovered that magic formula which leads to comment heaven, because his blog scores something like 30 to 40 comments each post. Now, aside from the fact that he deserves each and every one he has generated, I must also say that he is no more talented than Tim or Shandi when it comes to overall blogworthyness. Yet he scores BIG time.

I will not attempt in this post to dissect his style and substance and try to reason out the secret of his success, but I will say one thing. I am not the least bit intimidated. Yea, I know, if I get ten comments on any one post I'm doing damn good, but then again, I count these as quality comments, received from fine and genuine folks who have discovered, then stuck with me almost from the very beginning. I fully realize that the nature of my blog, with it's mixed bag of social comment and biographical reporting, is hard to pigeonhole into something that appeals on a consistent basis to a cross section of blog aficionados, but it does seem to provide something to those who seem to have bookmarked me that makes it worth keeping tabs on. I guess what I'm trying to say here is that what we have here is family, rather than mass market, and we all know that family puts up with alot of less than stellar pedigree, simply because you have become something familiar in a way that breeds loyalty, something that goes beyond glitz and glamor.

Getting back to mega-comment man, I love the way his mind works, and he has returned the favor by engaging me with great comments. He is not one of these inane bloggers who just needs to just go away, as Tim has lamented in recent posts. Yes, I might sometimes envy him his relative success, but he truly has earned each and every accolade his has received for the concepts he explores. OK, OK, I know, you are just DYING to know who the hell I'm talking about.

I refer to him as HE in my replies in my comments section. Figure it out, and go see him. You won't regret it, I promise you.

Requiem for a Friend

2006-08-18T09:26:00.000-04:00

You were a promise
kept with the help of a friend
for years the wife had wanted a goat
and along came you
We jokingly named you Ozzy
You were such a tiny thing
half pygmy, half big bad billy
slight in size, gentle as a lamb
but you went your own way
and never once backed down
then we got you two more friends
to help you eat the yard
bigger than you
and stronger too
but you never once backed down
You were happy to let Mysty take the lead
he was the calm collected boss without horns
while Billy was the obnoxious wanna-be
who followed Mysty all around
but you, you grazed where it suited you
and went where you damn well pleased
and never once backed down
Then came that tragic day
that Mysty met his end
Both of you knew well as I
that we had lost a friend
We gave him back to Mother Earth
and miss him to this day
and now you get to join him
to frolic, jump, and play
A sickness came upon you
and took you day by day
but you were always a tough little fuck
you never once backed down
but the cycle of life has purpose
and has a place for you
you lost your fight late in the night
but not for backing down
Tonight we say goodbye to you
our gentle little friend
We'll give you back to Mother Earth
and send you on your way
where pastures are much greener
the water sweet and pure
the hay is piled up nice and soft
no leash to hold you back
you'll eat to your little heart's content
your belly always full
and no matter how big, or strong
your brothers be
If I know you

You'll never,

ever

Back down

Vigil

2006-08-16T19:03:00.000-04:00

Yesterday after I tied the herd out to browse, I went to check on them and found Ozzy passed out on the ground. He roused easily enough, so I thought perhaps in his less-than-stellar health he had simply passed out from the heat. I took him back to the barn and fed him his own trough full of feed and left the others to scrounge.

This morning I found him down. He was conscious, but far to weak to stand. I'm afraid that whatever ailment has been haunting the little fella has come to claim him. He has been resting as comfortable as I could make him in the barn, but he is passing on, I'm afraid. I knew something was wrong when I went out this morning and the usual "let's go eat everything" greeting from the herd was muted and sad; don't tell me that animals don't sense when something is wrong with one of their own. Sure enough, he was back in the pen down on his side.

Those of you who have been with us for some time know that Ozzy was one of the original three goats that I got for my wife, who always wanted one. Mysty was attacked by a vicious dog and died awhile back, and that was a sad time for us. Now it's Ozzy's time to leave us and it's no easier. They have been a joyful part of our family and have more than earned their keep both in the love we've shared and their industrious consumption of the wild growth on our land. I know, it's hard to think of mere goats as more than livestock, and many people eat these creatures, but we have bonded with these guys and simply have not thought of them as food creatures. We get our meat at the supermarket. Under different circumstances it might not have turned out so heart-warming, but rest assured in OUR circumstances, they are people too, just as our dog, our cats, and even the lizard is.

We are on vigil tonight. Ozzy will soon draw his last breath, and we will return him to the Earth the same way we did Mysty, by cremation. Then, with our thanks and blessings, he will find green, verdant pastures chock full of every tasty green thing he favors, until BOB decides where he goes next. I think he's earned an upgrade.

Thirteen Years

2006-08-13T14:17:00.000-04:00

The flame burned so much brighter, hotter, in those early, fresh, uncertain days, when love was an infection, a fever, a state of delirium that ruined your calm collected existence. With such intensity comes ultimately the burnout, leaving you spent, lost, crushed and damaged. You survive, lick your wounds, and seek it out once again, all the while in denial you could ever expose yourself to such delicious pain again. But you are human, and the choice has and never will be yours.

Then, she touches you, the one, and instead of thunder and lightening and the great destroyer come to claim your heart once again..........you simply accept the gentle grasp and never, ever, can you let go. You'll love her, need her, from first hot and heavy and often rut, to sharing a couch knowing only the nearness you've come to need, for that is ALL you need. She'll wonder to where you've gone, when detachment takes you to your safe place, but she'll welcome you back when safe seems so empty, for there is never an empty place in her arms. She will question ever having known you, and somehow you'll remind her, and her smile welcomes back reasons that slip away sometimes.

You smolder now, allowing for flare-ups to surprise and belt you about the head and heart, and there is no bad habit, ill-chosen word, repeated innocent insult, or monumental tantrum which can break your need of her. And she'll suffer you, and suffer you, and love you. This is a creature, two hearts beating in one chest, two minds thinking the same thought, one entity swallowing up two souls, blending them into a most unlikely chimera. The only cure is death; till then it knows loyalty only to it's whole, the parts long since dead.

She glances over at me and I know the question in there...."Does he still love me, want me; how could he still?" When she's not looking I glance back, my answer so pathetic, "How could I not? I do it so poorly, I know, but I do it still. It's all I know,"

Thirteen years. It smolders still.

BAM!

2006-08-12T22:51:00.000-04:00

Well, what sounded like an artillery shell landed right behind our house and wiped out what I was almost ready to finish up and post. That was from the thunderstorm that I was telling you about before the near miss knocked out the power to my neighbors behind me. All we got was a split second of surge, but boy was that close! So, because I like you, I will attempt to retrieve from memory what I was about to post before Mother Nature tried hinting that maybe I shouldn't post tonight. I never was good at taking hints.

Now, I feel qualified to soldier on and get this posted against all odds, because despite the fact that I do not have a degree in Novella, I feel I am nonetheless quite able in my own limited fashion to duplicate the efforts of infinite monkeys playing metaphoric symbols, even if compared to the likes of Kurt Vonegut or Truman Capote, it comes across as gibberish. I am even able to accomplish this while listening over my shoulder to "Coyote Ugly", the sounds of driving rain on my roof, and the hyperventilated stylings of my canine defender cowering at my feet, so convinced is he that the Gods of Thunder are coming for him personally. I will even enhance the depth of this composition by carefully administered doses of distilled spirits and orange juice, otherwise known as "Nectar of the Bob".

Today I was treated to the usual dearth of weekend blog posts, a phenomenon that occurs when people take two days to concern themselves with activities having nothing to do with blogging. (THIS JUST IN: Wife says, "Honey, my hand hurts!" I say, "Well, if it hurts enough, take a pill." She says, "But I don't WANT to take any more pills!" I say, "Then, hun, you'll have to grin and bare it." To which she smiles and says, "OK, you bare it, and I'll grin!") I remember those days in my youth when I would take those two traditionally off days to commit my share of debauchery and excessive enjoyment of alcohol, but like I said, those were the days of my youth. Nowadays, my "weekends" occur just about any two days of the week, and debauchery? Well..........such memories...........

I'm saving this....hold on.........

Like, I was saying, it was a dark and stormy night...........

I worry about Ozzy. Despite the fact that he had seemed to be on the rebound, and his appetite seems as ravenous as the other goats, he is becoming nothing more than a pot belly attached to a framework of skin and bones, has gotten listless and slow, and rarely makes a sound, in contrast to the cacophony of "What you got to eat, anything to eat, when do we eat it, c'mon, there are things needing to be eaten out there!!!!!!" provided by his herd mates. Ozzy is such a sweet little soul, and has always been my favorite, and I will truly mourn his passing should his time prove to be near at hand. All I can say is that there better be endless fields of lots of green stuff to eat in his afterlife, or I swear to Bob I will track down the cosmic bureaucrat responsible for such an injustice and kill him a SECOND time.

THIS JUST IN; suicide bomber shows up in a soup diner instead of heaven, and the Soup Nazi points at him and shouts "NO virgins for YOU!" (Ok, it's a Seinfield thing)

It's our 13th wedding anniversary coming up on the 14th. Yep, the lucky 13! Despite the fact that we got married during a raging thunderstorm with lightening forking down all around us, we have survived all these years for richer or for poorer, in sickness and in health (ok, poorer and sick, but hey, can't have everything!) and just might get thru to till death does me part.

So there you have it, Saturday night at Pendragon Hold. It won't win anything a Cannes this year, but that's OK. I hate caviar anyway.

Deal

2006-08-11T21:50:00.000-04:00

One of the most effective training methods employed by sports coaches and drill instructors is the "group responsibility" concept, where as every one in the group is held responsible for the failings of any one member. Once the group discovers that every one of them will suffer for an individuals lack of commitment, they will take it upon themselves to see to it that the individual responsible for their collective misery will be "encouraged" to get his shit together. Wether or not those who do their best to succeed think having to pay for the lowest common denominator of the whole group is fair is beside the point. It works. Ask any Marine.

I think the time has come to apply this method on a universal basis. Even now the Lebanese people are discovering what happens when those who share their territory take it upon themselves to invite the retribution that is guaranteed to follow their acts of aggression upon the state of Israel. I cannot say that countless individuals and cultures do not have a legitimate bone to pick with the State of Israel. However, there are also numerous communities within the State of Lebanon who do not deserve to have the ire of a persecuted and reactive people such as the Jews visited upon them at no fault of their own. It's bad enough that Hezballah was created almost entirely as a satellite puppet of Syria and Iran, manipulated by those two enemies of Israel as puppet fodder to cause "remote-control" pressure on the Jewish state without having to suffer direct responsibility for their actions. Well, maybe it's time to call a spade a spade and hold them directly responsible for every katusha rocket that has been lobbed into Israel from the middle of civilian neighborhoods, the "human shield" tactic favored most by cowardly terrorists who have no morals to boast of.

I imagine how nice these representatives of Allah himself must have seemed as they set up social services, health clinics, educational facilities and the like in the south of Lebanon in order to endear themselves to the locals. Along with such charity I'm sure came a good dose of propaganda and dogma, ensuring that those that would someday find themselves in harms way would think it was all worth it. How cheap such loyalty seems to be these days. Slowly but surely the spotlight had been focusing on the overkill that Israelis were bringing down upon the palestinians in response to their bad behaviors prompted by such horrible treatment as an occupied people. Given the time and patience already demonstrated as the ultimate weapon against injustice as practiced by Martin Luther King, the Palestinians would eventually have won their homeland, in much the same fashion that the Jews had eventually won their own homeland in the midsts of a harsh and unwelcome land where they now thrive. But Islamic fundamentalism could not allow that to happen, at the risk of making moot their desire to wipe out the Jews altogether and forever, just one step along their path to world domination, no different than that of the Soviets.

I fear that sane civilizations' only answer to this cancer is as I stated above, the collective responsibility doctrine. Only when the world body politic enforces an understanding that you as a culture, a nation, a people, are responsible for the actions of those within your midsts whom you allow to operate and further their causes within your sphere of influence, can you find value in ridding yourselves of these threats to your own peace and security. The United States even now is not facing up to the harsh reality that Iran is enforcing it's own will by proxy via such Shiite entities as the Marde Army and other Shiite dominated institutions within Iraq. If bomb for bomb, rocket for rocket, was visited upon Iran for every one that was detonated in Southern Lebanon and Iraq, I think perhaps fewer rockets and IED's would be exported from that place with such impunity. There are enough people in that country who are thirsting for good jobs, the ability to support their families, and plain, ordinary peace and security, to put a stop to this hatred-by-proxy that the Iranian Mullahs enjoy today.

Pakistan is a country claiming to support democracy and the war on terror, when in reality a good portion of it's populace is actively engaged in this war, and protected by various institutions within this declared Islamic republic. Like I said before, a spade is a spade, and only when this government is told in no uncertain terms that it has a choice to make will it ever make the hard choices. If the Pakistani armed forces truly cannot handle the job of enforcing the rule of law in all it's territory, I am sure NATO and other interested parties would have no difficulty helping out in that regard. If remote villages can be persuaded by demonstrations of force AND reward that turning over terrorists is actually in their best interest, I think they will fall all over themselves seeing who can do it first, rather than having their whole village wiped out because they harbored an Al-Quida cell that crossed over into Afghanistan to attack coalition forces. It works in basketball teams and marine boot camps, no reason it can't work on the world stage.

The idea of civilian casualties has always been one thing that civilized societies have trouble stomaching, quite understandably. The idea of the warrior throughout history was one in which the person willing to take up arms against an enemy did so openly, proudly, wearing the uniform of the state he wished to defend. There has always been a certain honor attached to the sacrifice of the warrior. However, with this recent advent of Islamic fundamentalism, the portrait of the warrior has been sullied, with persons who under any rational set of rules would be considered nothing but a common criminal now claiming to be a warrior furthering a cause. They have even included such cowardly and despicable tactics as dressing like civilians, hiding amongst civilian gatherings, and even hiding behind a shield of women and children. Then there is the remote and suicide bomb attack, which usually kills mostly innocents in large numbers. I'm sorry, but the definition of self defense dictates that one defends against attack by ANY method, and if the only way to defend against attack is to take out an attacker who cowardly hides in the midsts of innocents thinking some moral code they don't even respect will protect them from retaliation, then so be it. The fact that some of these "shields" fully realize the danger they expose themselves to by allowing themselves to be used in such a fashion is all the more reason to hold them responsible for the consequences. A civilized society that hopes to survive cannot allow it's own moral codes to be manipulated and used against it.

You might get the idea that I am an apologist for Israel, but I am not. I am rather pissed at the idea of my tax dollars being sent to Israel to fund it's oppression of the Palestinian people. However, the State of Israel exists, and is not going away. These people have a wholly reasonable fear of persecution and attack, as history has demonstrated, and thus it is reasonable to expect them to reply strongly to any attack against them by people who wish them all dead. Al Quida wants US dead, and no one is concerned that we hunt them down wherever we can find them and kill them on the spot when we can. So, I think it is necessary to take a balanced view and understand why the Lebanese are suffering so. They are expendable as far as Hezbollah and their Masters in Iran are concerned.

Personally, I would solve this problem once and for all by selling Israel the state of Utah, and moving the Jewish state lock, stock and barrel out of the middle east, thus guaranteeing their security once and for all and giving the Palestinians their home back. Then I would withdraw from the area altogether, and let them at each other, with the promise that if one terrorist, one missile, ever makes it's way across the ocean, a major middle Eastern city ceases to exist. We need to wean ourselves off that oil once and for all, relying on our own and other supplies to get by while switching over to alternative energy sources, which we are fully capable of doing,

Then, one day, when the dust settles, and a plaintive voice pleads over the radio for an exchange of diplomats (what, you think Fundamentalist Islam would survive any longer than Soviet communism? People put up with such shit only for so long), THEN we can talk, rationally. Till then, a spade is a spade and it's time those cards were dealt accordingly.

When We Breathed, Breathed in the Air...........

2006-08-08T23:11:00.000-04:00

I do not wish to sound like a snob, to claim license, or dismiss other tastes and considerations, but I firmly believe that there was a period in music history, excluding the distant classical period up to this "stuff" we are dealing with now, that was the pinnacle of the art, and will never be equaled again.

It began with the Beatles, and ended with Pink Floyd.

I do not wish to dismiss the wonderful contributions by countless artists, both famous and relatively unknown, but no time in history will ever match the emotion, the growth, the message, the pure artistry that this period encompassed. Yes, the Beatles started out with their pop pap (which even as pop pap goes, was pretty damn good for the time), but then they seemed to gradually get serious and what evolved was a whole new idea of what music, much less rock and roll, could become. Just off the top of my head I would say that the "Sergeant Pepper" album made people put on headphones and really pay attention. So much happened after that, but no one could match the Beatles when it came to taking it all to a whole new level with every album they put out.

Then came Floyd.

Just like the Beatles, they fought their way out of relative nowhere, unable to set themselves apart from the wild party that was going on. I had never heard of them until their break-thru album, and it was years before I went back and examined their early works. I was not that impressed. Sounded like pop to me.

Then came Dark Side of the Moon.

WOW!

I wasted what could have amounted to years listening to this shit with my headphones. Just like Sergeant Pepper before it, I couldn't believe what I was hearing and couldn't get enough of it. And, just like the Beatles, they evolved, and boy did they ever evolve! It was like taking music as a sopwith camel and working it into an SR-71 Blackbird. However, the thing about these two bands is that each album they produced did not make obsolete the one that proceeded it. Even as I was trying to catch my breath with "The Division Bell", I could still be carried away by "Breath" or "Comfortably Numb".

As I stated previously, it began with the Beatles and ended with Pink Floyd, but much wonderment of all sorts was created in between by singers, songwriters, and groups of every description. This was a time when motown could coexist with acid rock, Jimmy Hendrix with John Denver, Harry Chapin with Alice Cooper. You could hear and savor it all on FM radio. Hell, even the Carpenters were allowed to make us smile, or cry, or whatever you were feeling when Karen did her thing. It was a new frontier that was pushing and shoving at every boundary it came up against, and man were there boundaries to be pushed!

Well, sooner or later, capitalism gets it's claws sunk deep into a "commodity" and ruins it for everybody. Next thing you know the DJ's are starting to disappear and music is beginning to be categorized by "genre" and before you know it the only mixed bag you can find is on so-called "oldies" stations. The powers that be decided that the grunge group has no use for the heavy metal who doesn't want to listen to Rap who wouldn't know regular rock from gothic. Now you are hunting all over the dial for something you can relate to and it all sounds alike.

Hidden deep in the satellite, college, and internet radio streams, you can find people desperately trying to hold true to that spirit that literally changed this nation, writing music and lyrics that mean something rather than playing to some corporate formula. Remember Jewel? Remember what she once did before some asshole told her she had to sex it up? Sigh. What a waste. Listen to alternative (yea, right, alternative to WHAT?) radio these days and what do you hear? I hate my fucking girl friend and I want to die. Or, you can groove to the beat of some rapper who can't sing but can recite some juvenile poetry about "ho's" and capping some nigga who disrespected you. It's over folks.....I just wish the kids these days knew why.

I'm not saying that it is not entirely possible that one day, Bob willing, a new generation will, simply out of common teen rebellion, rediscover the wellspring of life that serious devotion to honest and real music and lyrics and the feelings they engender can give to everybody. We once listened to music to feel good, not to reinforce our despair. We once shouted out loudly what we thought was wrong with the status quo, but we had one hell of a time while we were doing it. And sometimes we just got silly with it. But, thanks to the Beatles, and Pink Floyd, some of us were taught to think, and I personally think it was a very, very good thing.

I now return you to your "MTV Raps" presentation of Snoop Dog............

Super-Sized Haku

2006-08-08T17:02:00.000-04:00

It passes like molasses
this time of healing
of care and drudgery
at the mercy of reruns and netflix and movies seen several times already
various kinds and degrees of pain
various kinds and dosages of drugs
various moods and laughter and boredom
life together
trapped by a broken finger
life with a wounded wife

Day time television sucks
I hunt for diversions
which patch hasn't seen the goats for awhile?
and I can't get any sleep
a headache, or my legs start kicking
and I'm up
playing Command and Conquer till drowsy
then gently
quietly
back to bed
and the dog wakes me up
too damn early
as usual

My computer's doing things I don't want it to do
I need a bigger hard drive
but I blew that money I never had anyway
when the printer crapped out
cause the wife prints wiccan like there's no tomorrow
it's all good

I spend hours face in screen
checking for new posts
so of course everybody seems to stop
so I hit next blog
like I'm playing the lottery

She's so damn creative
coming up with ideas for this and that
making something out of nothing
beautiful things
My life would be so damn drab
without her
every man should marry a witch

There's a certain closeness with everything
hanging clothes on a line
you're OUT there, feeling the hot, damp air
hearing the breeze, the sounds of a neighborhood
you refresh yourself with the mechanics of clothespins
and wonder at how stiff a pair of jeans can be
I want winter back

Please Bob bring winter back...........

Who else could bring you hoarse goats, finger follies, and Camelot all in one post?

2006-08-07T23:11:00.000-04:00

Well, we returned for a followup, and the Doc seems happy with the wife's progress. His assistant changed her dressing, and of course she was on her best behavior and didn't threaten him with bodily harm as he peeled off the old stuff and applied the new. Funny, but when I did it, it was like I was trying to shave a badger.

However, it's going to take another week, perhaps two, before she can return to work, and by association, I had to extend my own time off, since I still have to continue in my role as driver, chief cook and bottle washer, and valiant knight of the order of the bloody bandage. But hey, it's good for my karma.

Billy (our greedy, needy, crybaby alpha goat) seems to have bleated "feed me, you got anything to eat, is it time to eat the front yard yet, let me at it, I'm starving, yadda-yadda" so much that he's made himself sorta hoarse. He sounds like a different goat altogether. Or maybe the spirit of that snake possessed him, since it occurred right after that nasty little incident. Mickey's probably nodding his head vigorously at that suggestion......hehe. Now, folks, these goats are well fed, and it amazes me they don't explode, they eat so much. It's comical to see little Sorcha coming back to the back yard looking like a blimp on four little stubby legs. Sonya has to settle for what she can scrounge in the back forty due to her continued steadfast association with me trying to get her on a leash with coming to kill her. The only way to leash her is to catch her off guard and startle her, at which time her back legs lock up and she's easy to chase down. I don't try very often, because she seems as healthy and fit as the rest of the herd, and she does get her occasional shot at grain and hay.

Nothing on TV worth watching, and no new Netflix movies have arrived yet, so we're watching "Excaliber". It's my all-time favorite tale of the honor and foibles of men, and how Wizards delve far to deeply into the power of magic than they should. It is a highly romanticized and dressed up story based on ancient myth, which may or may not have been based upon a real warlord, and this version of the tales of King Author is one of the best I know of. I sometimes think those who still suffer Royalty have this deep seated desire that the ideals of Camelot could actually be practiced, and I fully understand it, although even Author himself eventually fell victim to the human condition which keeps mankind chained to the sword rather than the plowshare. Can absolute power exist without absolute corruption? It could, I believe, if it were not for the corruptibility of those who surround him, for followers are the true power behind those who lead. Hitler could never have committed the evil he perpetrated without the enthusiastic willingness of his minions to do his bidding.

Of course, I could spend another hour talking about Lebanon, the price of gas, the record heat waves, and the mounting death toll in Iraq, but you all know how insane everything seems to be getting these days, and I doubt there's anything I could say about any of this that hasn't already been said. I chuckle when I think about all the fundamentalist Christians who are just chomping at the bit to get raptured, so convinced are they for the umpteenth time that the apocalypse is at hand. Sometimes I wish they WOULD get raptured; maybe with them gone things would calm down around here. Conversely, I wonder if there's been any strain on the supply of virgins in Islamic heaven, so many "martyrs" are blowing themselves up. There's no sense getting any more excited about the state of the world now than we have been in decades, or even centuries past, for the one constant is the human condition, the need to cry "HAVOC", and let slip the dogs of war.........

Pure Living!

2006-08-06T18:56:00.000-04:00

I think it was 1988 or so when I was looking around in a shop in Fairbanks. I was just passing thru on my way to Anchorage, the final leg in a long journey from Houston Texas, where I had lost my job as a machinist and had decided to return home to the place I loved. Inside this shop I noticed a woman whom I'd only seen before in news reports, never in the flesh, and that woman was Susan Butcher. Like I've said before, I don't have this idol-worship gene, and I didn't bother her, but I had always admired her. Who is Susan Butcher, you ask? Why, thanks to her, they came up with a saying in Alaska and it goes like this......."Alaska, where men are men, and women win the Iditarod!" She did it four times. Against men. And don't tell me it didn't humble them.

Susan lived out in the sticks in true Alaskan style, raising sled dogs, and she treated her canine companions like the true champions they were. These dogs were her life, and as a team, they and this plucky woman put many a man and his team of huskies to shame. The iditarod sled dog race is a grueling eleven hundred mile race over frozen and inhospitable terrain, staring in Anchorage and ending in Nome. Those who compete these days really can't lay claim to her amazing feats thanks to global warming, sometimes even having to cross increasingly larger areas with very little snow cover.

Susan took time off from competing to have a family, and produced two daughters, who I imagine one day might carry on their mother's ability to overcome sexual stereotyping. However, Susan finally met her match against leukemia, despite a determined and heroic battle against the disease.

A fellow blogger once asked, "Can one truly die happy?" Here's your answer my friend. Yes.

Wound Care of the Vanities

2006-08-06T14:26:00.000-04:00

I love my wife, I really do. However.......

One of the things I do at work is help the nurses change bandages. This usually requires two people due to the nature of the wounds we deal with. One thing about these wounds, be they from bedsores or the aftermath of flesh-eating bacteria, they will always occur in the most inaccessible places, and difficult to get to. So one does the actual dressing change while the other holds the limb or body off the bed, sometimes using a free hand to help open packaging or tossing away bloody gauze. At any rate, I have been rather well versed in the art of dressing changes, at least I thought I was. Then came time for ME, THE Michael, solo, to perform what should be a straight-forward change of the dressings on my wife's poor finger, which now resembles something like a burst sausage.
The one great advantage of this activity in a critical care unit is the condition of the person we usually perform it on. They are heavily sedated, or given powerful painkillers, might be on a vent, and are often tied down. Another-words, even though you know that no matter how tender you try to be, sometimes it's gonna hurt, but you don't have a fully conscious, mobile, and quite opinionated subject on your hands. You can get it done.

No such advantage here. The wife doesn't do bondage, so tying her down was not an option. Ditto the ball gag. The demerol has proven to be adequate for general pain relief, but not much help while the wound is being "assaulted". The gauze over the wounds soaks up the blood and drainage, creating a nice hardened glue that has to be peeled off the raw wound, and it's no wonder keeping her hand steady while I'm trying to grab something with pin-point accuracy is a trying proposition. Plus there's this trust issue. Yes, I touch things while desperately trying not to, and she goes into it KNOWING I'm going to do it, creating a vicious cycle of me trying to get this stuff off as painlessly as possible and her jerking around and........sigh.......where's those restraints?

Plus, my wife, since it's HER hand I'm trying to dress, has already laid claim to a Doctorate in Wound Care, and is trying to instruct me while I'm trying to concentrate and get this over with. Now I'm caught between trying not to hurt her and wanting to bitch slap her at the same time. She doesn't mean to make it seem like I don't know what the hell I'm doing, but once it's all over with, I stalk away thinking I should get an academy award for wound changes under trying circumstances not involving getting up, throwing the scissors at her, and telling her to dress the damn thing herself. I think she notices the cloud I'm walking away under, and as the agony of my inept attempt to take care of her eases off, she regains her sense of decorum and tiptoes all around an effort to tell me she's sorry and thank you for doing this. Thank Bob for patience............without it Jack would be one unhappy camper.

The wound cultures came back, and not surprisingly, she was positive for MRSA, that nasty bug we put patients in isolation for, since it is resistant to many of the antibiotics we use today. She could have gotten it off of me, I'm probably so covered in it by now, her Mother, who's had her bouts with it, or any number of places, including the money she handles at work. No wonder the damn finger tried to explode on her. Expecting even the simplest of procedures to resolve themselves without complications these days is naive to say the least. I just hope these antibiotics she's on don't cause more problems than they solve.

Well, I have an answer to all this finger angst. Ketchup. Yep, ketchup has natural mellowing agents that take away that feeling of impending doom, strengthens your respect for your spouse, and keeps families intact. (this last paragraph was provided courtesy of the Ketchup Advisory Board.)

OK, I performed wound care, vacuumed the dog hair off the carpet, washed dishes, swept and mopped the kitchen floor, took out the garbage, tied out the goats, made lunch, and am preparing to do several loads of laundry. Then I have dinner to prepare. Will this "vacation" ever end?

An Interview with THE Michael

2006-08-03T21:58:00.000-04:00

Today we interview "THE Michael", the author, writer, director, producer, and art director of "Dances with Leaves", the someday-to-be-award-winning blog featured on such very-soon-to-be-award-winning blogs such as "Dizgraceland", "I Have Two Belly-Buttons", and "Primates Playing Percussion".......or something like that.

This interview was conducted over several hectic days as the mercury rose, things started to go wrong, and nature attacked. Still, he was gracious enough to take time out of his busy schedule trying to survive to sit down with us and answer some questions no man should be asked.

Me: So, it's been quite a week for you. How's the wife's finger doing?

Him: Oh, a bit better now that the surgeon sliced into it to relieve the internal pressure from the swelling that occurred. She's got another huge bandage on her hand hiding the carnage, but now the heavy duty painkillers are moderating the agony somewhat. If there's one thing my wife is experienced in, it's agony.

Me: And this all started with what?

Him: Well, it was a freak accident, actually. I was closing a metal gate not knowing she had her hand on the post, and it nailed her pinky finger at the second joint. It didn't seem all that major of an injury at the time, but over time her arthritis took it and ran with it, and over time the finger became really painful to the touch. We finally took her to the finger doc and he said that the joint had degenerated due to the arthritis and would have to be fused to relieve the pain. It's been downhill ever since.

Me: How bad is it? She's not going to lose the finger, is she?

Him: Well, I hope not. We both kinda like the little darling........

Me: So what else has been happening? You seem pretty frazzled........

Him: Well, right after I got her home from the first surgery, I had to attend to some chores in the great outdoors and the great outdoors took a swipe at me. Seems a rather large Diamondback Rattlesnake wanted to share my space and I had to disagree with him with extreme prejudice. I even thought there for awhile that our favorite pet goat had been bitten and that would have really ruined our day.

Me: But he's OK?

Him: Yea, I think he got caught upside his little head by an ejected shell casing while I was blasting away at the snake and was momentarily stunned. He's not a "fainting" goat like the twins, so he was acting really out of character to be laying there on the ground like that playing dead. At any rate, things were going crazy all at once so it's hard to remember exactly what happened to who or what in what order.......I'm just glad we're all here trying hard to laugh about it.

Me: Any other mayhem going on about this time?

Him: Well, day to day has been a challenge financially, and all this has put another strain on the budget..........which is funny.......there IS no budget......I just steal from peter to take care of paul.....you just learn the fine art of creative juggling.

Me: Ever feel like just running away; just saying the hell with it; starting over somewhere where no one knows you?

Him: Hell, who doesn't? But, I figure if Ken Lay can stick it out in his mansion while his world is crashing down all around him, it should be a piece of cake for little old me.

Me: Kenneth Lay is dead.........

Him: Hmmmmmmmmm

Me: So, you had to take off work again? How do you do it?

Him: Easy, my man. It's the miracle of PTO (Paid Time Off). I earn something like 8 hours of it a payday, and only having to work three days a week, I don't have to use up alot of it, so it adds up quickly. Plus, a Doctors note stipulating that I have to take care of my wife helps. As bad and lowbrow as my job can seem at times, it DOES have it's perks.

Me: OK, you claim that your wife is a witch. Well, then, why is all this happening to you guys? I would think a witch would have spells to take care of all this.

Him: Yea, you'd think. But, I think it's only fair to mention that at best she can be considered an "apprentice" witch. She HAS done a few things that seemed to have produced results, but hell, even the Pope couldn't cure his own ills before he died, I don't think you can expect a newby wiccan to perform miracles either. Being wiccan doesn't separate you from the trials and tribulations of life in general, but it can certainly help you not take it all personally. We don't go around blaming some God for our problems, nor do we give credit for good luck to invisible men who had nothing to do with it. We make our own beds, we sleep in them.

Me: Well, getting on to "Dances with Leaves", how do you rate it's overall success?

Him: Oh, I'd say I'd place it somewhere between "utter disaster" and "underground phenomenon". I just haven't heard much from the underground, but they are by their very nature a quiet bunch. Who knows, if I were to shut down this blog today, a cry might arise across the globe of such wailing and gnashing of teeth that the Earth might tilt right off it's axis. But then again, they might not even notice I'm gone......ya never know.

Me: So why do you do it? I looked at your hit counter, and quite frankly, for the time you've been online, it's not a very impressive number.

Him: Hey, every hear of the silent majority? Maybe these visitors have kept their discovery to themselves, having found a true gem they aren't willing to share at the risk of it becoming mainstream, then it wouldn't be cool anymore and they'd have to move on to the next "thing". I might just very well be the grunge rock of blogs right now, with a small but very quiet and dedicated following. If that's truly the case, then I've been a roaring success, and if not, then so what? I have bookmarked a whole bevy of truly remarkable blogs who aren't getting a penny more for their efforts than I am. If I ever hit the big time then I might consider myself a real failure for having gotten the attention of those who smell money, and that's not what my writings' about. This blog is about real life, not high falutin" language crafted for the benefit of elitists who demand articulate, overblown artsy exercises in language. This is me, my wife, my goats, and an acre of sand in a very hot and humid place in America, not something dreamed up by Neil Simon. Read most of the best classics and you will not see language and background recognizable to real people. I think my readers see plenty of their own lives in what goes on in mine, and aren't alienated by the honesty of it.

Me: So where do you see yourself in 20 years?

Him: Dead. As in doornail. Very much so.

Me: Dead? But, let's see, you'll only be like 70............

Him: Mom only made it to 68, I think, due to smoking all her life. I've smoked all MY life......it's genetic, it's inevitable, but hey, I've had a good run; I'm thankful for the years I've had, the love of a good woman, and thanks to giving up Catholicism, I don't fear what's next. Matter of fact, I'm rather looking forward to finding out the truth of it all, something I honestly don't think living beings can know. Besides, Bob assures me it'll be a blast!

Me: Speaking of this "Bob" charactor.....who the hell IS he?

Him: Well, he's rather hard to describe. I suppose the closest I can come to quantifying him is comparing him to that little voice in your head, that reasoning that talks to you in quiet moments, that unknown person in your daydreams that tells you things you swear you wouldn't have come up with on your own. At first you're sure you made him up entirely on your own, but then later you're not so sure, because the stuff he's put in your head doesn't have a corresponding memory of your crafting it, at least consciously. I'm sure he's nothing more than my "id", that part of me deep down that does his own thing unrestrained by my conscious restraints, but, thank Bob, he doesn't have me walking around in my sleep doing crazy things. Or, maybe he's just a convenient something I can blame for some of the things I say. I think Mickey might know what I'm talking about.

Me: So, any big plans for "Dances"?

Him: Yep! I plan to get up tomorrow morning, survive the day, and either report on it, or provide one of my occasional insightful, well balanced editorials about what's going on in the world. With any luck, I won't lose any more readers as a result. I do like my readers, I really do.

Finger Sausage, Diamondbacks, and Double Demerol

2006-08-02T20:25:00.000-04:00

The sun was merciless today, making a trip outside the house an excursion into discomfort, something you did to get things done, not to commune with nature. But this day would give me plenty of reasons not to consider the heat a major concern, despite the fact that my air conditioner was steadily sucking money out of my meager bank account.

It began with the wife's finger. We were not supposed to have the pin taken out until the 22nd of August, but for several days now the finger has swollen and the pain has gotten worse. This morning I found it necessary to contact the surgeon and ask about it, and Bob bless this man, he told us to get into the office for a look-see. There, after careful examination, he decided the pin might be a source of infection, as it had started to exit the end of her finger of it's own accord, and he went ahead and pulled it out. You would have had to knock my ass out before you even suggested pulling a steel pin out of MY finger, but stoic wifey said sure, and he did it sans any kind of deadening agent. But the finger is beginning to resemble a swollen sausage, and he thinks there may be pus in there than needs to be drained surgically, so he's scheduled her to be a the surgery center tomorrow to go back in and see what the problem is. Right now she is on antibiotics and is taking her demerol, which is now barely making the pain bearable. I try to empathize, but personally, and I think this probably this applies to everybody, I believe that the brain does not actually store specific memory of pain endured, and one must rely on the metaphors that most closely resemble what a kind of pain was like when it was being experienced. I myself once suffered a case of the shingles, and to this day, I rely on the statement, "It felt like someone had smacked my ribs with a baseball bat" to communicate what it felt like. But I can't really call up the sensation itself. So, I do not presume to know how much this hurts her.

Having gotten back from the doctor's office, I was dashing around trying to accomplish what felt like a hundred things at once. We had hung out laundry before we had left, and I needed to get out and take it down now that it was dry. While I was out there I noticed that the ants were still attempting to establish a civilization around our big tree from which the bird feeder hung, so I dashed back in to grab the ant-killer powder to lay waste to their efforts. I'm making circles around the base of the oak tree, laying down the powder, when I suddenly notice a buzzing sound coming from my left. OK, a little geography here; the tree is situated in the corner of the picket fence that we had put up to keep the goats out of the herb garden and shade garden. There is a stack of old metal and plastic lawn chairs next to the fence, almost to the corner. I am rounding the tree next to the chairs when I hear the buzz, and I instinctively know that sound, and without even knowing exactly where the source is, I head right so fast I'm standing six feet away from that stack of chairs before the air collapses in on the place I was standing when I first heard it.

My eyes are challenged by a sun setting in the west and the shadows beneath that stack of chairs, not to mention the goats all gathered around that area curious as to what I might have for them to eat. But in my new state of alert I focus in on a pile of coiled diamondback rattlesnake very close to where I had been previously and I'm wondering how I didn't get nailed, so close to him had I been. However, this is when "snakes must die" takes you over and I ran into the house screaming at the wife about how close I just came to getting bit while I retrieved my trusty Walther PPK/s, a pistol that was designed more for close in self defense rather than snake killing.

With the wife hot on my heels I returned to my vantage point, took aim at his head, and was greeted by a long forgotten memory of what a small .380 sounds like when you pull the trigger. It's LOUD! I saw the snake jerk a bit, but he remained the coiled menace, and I tried again. Still no real effect. By this time the wife is screaming that the goats are too close to the snake on the other side of the fence, so I dash around and thru the gate to chase the goats away from danger, shoving gentle little Ozzy out of my way while I knell down and take a bead on that pit viper head again. BAMM! I remove his lower jaw, and I glance to the side to notice that Ozzy is down, laying on his side. Oh, shit, the snake got OZZY!

A glance back at the snake convinced me that I had damaged it enough to not worry about further attack, and I turned my attentions to the poor goat who was definitely going to die if this snake had made a good strike. I searched all over him but could not find an obvious wound anywhere, and might not ever have thanks to his dense fur. However, as I picked him up to turn him over for a look on the other side, he ended up on all fours and stood there, steady as a rock, and he licked my face as though asking, "you all right?".

In retrospect, I think perhaps Ozzy might have caught a shell casing upside his little head and been knocked senseless for a moment, but there is no indication even up to this point that the snake got him. As far as the unexpectedly loud report of the pistol, I would have thought the goats would have been startled enough to scatter, but those dumb idiots were crowding into the danger zone to see what all the excitement was about. Luckily, I was able to dispatch the creature before they placed themselves into his strike zone.

While the snake was writhing around, wounded but very animated, I grabbed a shovel and repeatedly tried to part his head from his body, but was thwarted by the sand and the dullness of the shovel blade, so I gave up and grabbed one of those claw type things that old people use to pick things up with, dragged him out into the open, and used a meat cleaver to finish the job. Then, I took off his rattle, my trophy for having won that little war.

Strange thing about this encounter was the absence of a rush of adrenaline which normally I would have expected to overcome me when I first heard that buzz. I don't remember feeling that ramped up feeling, just a focus on protecting myself, my goats, my dominion, from a creature I otherwise would have no argument with. Even now I maintain a sense of numbness to the whole episode, and I'm hoping like hell not to wake up in the middle of the night with some delayed reaction. To tell the truth, in retrospect I probably overreacted to the threat, but at the time it felt like a very close brush with a trip to my very own Critical Care Unit, a place I don't mind so much working in but have no desire whatsoever to visit as a patient.

In the meantime the pain in my wife's finger has gotten excruciating, prompting another call to the surgeon, who told us to up the dosage of her pain killer and to be at the surgery center bright and early, as he would move her up to first in line to be dealt with. It's not going to be a good night.

Iced Tea and Karma

2006-07-31T23:07:00.000-04:00

The gang-banger had really fucked up this time. Any niga with a lick of sense would have known a narc when he saw one, but he needed cash for a new ride so bad he'd overlooked the obvious and met the dude anyway, with a bag full of coke, and blinders on. So, of course, he died that night, simply because the lack of common sense it takes to be a player is the same lack of sense it takes to think pulling a piece on a cop is a brilliant idea. The undercover brother he tried that shit with simply showed the peace sign and the SWAT team sniper put a nice hole right thru Jamail's forehead before he could even think of pulling the trigger on the nine.

Nice thing about head shots is that you don't suffer a hell of a lot. You go to sleep, so to speak, and next thing you know, it's the next thing. The next thing, in this case, was Jamail sitting on a bench in front of a fruit stand next to an old black man, a mason jar of iced tea in his hand, looking out over a field of cotton. Jamail was born and bred Detroit niga; had never seen cotton in the raw, so he stood up real fast and whipped around, grabbing for the usual hardware and finding nothing. The old black man with the white stubble on his face just watched him as though he saw young black men acting weirded out all the time, and raised his own mason jar of tea to his lips and took a draw.

It only took Jamail a few seconds to get over his instinctive rush and realize he wasn't in Detroit anymore, that the deal had gone south, and he was dead. Being dead meant he was now faced with what happens to people when they got no place to be, so he lowered his hands and calmed down and stared at the old fucker watching him calmly from the bench. "Hey, niga, who you? Saint Peter? I spected him to be some white dude, and you ain't very white. So what now? I going down?"

The old man lowered his jar and wiped his mouth with his sleeve, staring calmly at the young black man. Jamail was used to being looked at this way, those old black men with their know it all attitudes, their disrespect for a proper player. But this old man didn't seem to have that fear in his eyes he was used to seeing in his victims, which often as not were old black men on social security or disability, whose checks he often stole from them. But this wasn't the hood, so Jamail didn't try to bitch slap him for looking at him that way.

Jamail stared at him with wild eyes as the old man simply lifted up his right arm and stared at his wrist watch, like he was expecting something about this time. "Don't be staring at some fool watch, old man, I'm right on time, if you's waiting on some dead dude to show up. What's gonna happen now? You taking me to the devil to pay up?"

"No, son," said the old man, "I'm just seeing how long we got before you get over life and start feeling your place. I remember how it was when I came over, all scared and confused, not knowing what was gonna happen. Won't be long now."

"How long we got? What the fuck you talking about, old man? We taking a bus or something? Hell, I figured I'd go STRAIGHT to hell when I got capped. Instead I'm out in the middle of nowhere with some crazy fuck talkin' nonsense. If THIS is hell I don' like it much."

It was about this time that the old man looked up from his watch and stared into the face of the younger man, albeit a dead one, as if seeking some realization due to occur. He was not disappointed, for a gradual but definite change in demeanor had occurred in that face. They both stared into each others eyes until the young man's eyes began to well with tears and he tore his gaze away, his hands suddenly grabbing about his chest as though some cosmic heart attack had suddenly inflicted him. And no, this was not some invisible satanic embrace the young man was suffering, but something far more horrible and effective.......he was experiencing truth, realization, and knowledge.

The old man, wanting very much to reach out and comfort him, could only watch as the young man dropped to his knees, his body wracked with sobbing, every ounce of sass and arrogance having drained from his soul as something much more powerful possessed him. He was suddenly aware that there was no hell awaiting him, no devil waiting to punish him for all eternity, no God to account to for all his sins. His punishment, for the moment, seemed much worse than all he had come to expect from what little dogma he had payed attention to as a child being forced to attend the First Shiloh Baptist Church. There was no hellfire and damnation here, no, there was accounting for his life by knowing what his life had been for and what he had done with it, as well as what he had done to others. Yet, the horror of his lesson was balanced by an overwhelming joy, which was all-encompassing and equally painful in a way that could not be explained in human terms. He lifted his tear stained face and looked back at the old man, and look of understanding transmitted between them, a smile coming to the lips of both, sharing in this knowledge both had found in different yet similar ways.

The old man finally rose to his feet, rather spry for his apparent age, for his body was nothing more than a representation of him as he last lived, and he walked over and took the young man by the arm and helped him to his feet. "Son, we've both.......we've ALL been through this scene so many times, and each time we go through it, it's like a new flame searing our souls, something we can never forget yet will never remember each time we go back and try again. I'm sorry you fell behind so badly this last time around, but we both know it's the only way we learn the way, don't we?"

The young man wiped off his face with an offered, if not actually real, handkerchief, and nodded his head. When all is revealed in such a brutal fashion as this, it makes a crack high seem like a bad joke by comparison. He stood on shaky legs, legs which were only figurative, for he now realized that he was much more than a collection of body parts, bad or good behaviors, with a name. He was in reality one powerful being, individual, yet a mere speck of existence in a grand collective of consciousness, all knowing all, no one a stranger to another. He was as much a part of the old man he'd been cussing at a few moments ago as he was his own self, and any ill will he had visited upon the man had only been reflected upon himself when the mirror of truth got in the way of his ignorance.

" Guess I got a harder road than hell to travel on this day, don't I, old man?" said the young man, a wistful smile upon his face as he went back with him to sit on the bench and enjoy the view. "Yes, Son, it's one hard road, but we been walkin' it for one long time now, and we got miles to go, so's we best be going now, we got some resting to do, some love to make with old flames, some parents to apologize to, and maybe a few good books to read we never made time for. At least we know that what we headin' for is one fine place to be, and worth every step it takes to get there. You ready to get going?"

"Yes, Sir, I showly am. And thank you for not laughin' at me being such a fool."

"Son, I never did, and I never will."

They're At It Again..........

2006-07-30T20:28:00.000-04:00

Sigh......they're at it again, those pesky women. Here in America, it seems that certain Catholic women have the GALL to think they can be priests and offer up glory to their god in front of a congregation. How DARE they? The Pope, that holy dude who is said to be the very mouthpiece of God himself, and thus logically MUST be infallible, has threatened to excommunicate them if they try and sneak into this boys club. Excommunication is a terrible thing, because it means that you are no longer a chosen one and are going to have to wait tables in hell. Yep, if the Catholic hell is anything like the Catholic heaven, women are sure to be second class sufferers there to. Perhaps because they are merely women, they won't have to suffer much more than they already do what with periods, childbearing, and all those nasty things they earned for forcing Adam to eat that apple God was afraid of him enjoying. Yes, it is quite apparent that this weaker of the two sexes can be quite powerful when she wants to be, and while under the influence of the power of Satan, can force a full grown man to eat an apple. So, thank God the Pope is putting a stop to this. Next thing you know they'll be wanting to ordain GAYS!

Sigh.......I forgot, the Episcopalians ARE wanting to ordain homosexuals as priests. It's bad enough that they changed their name so that they could get women into those funny robes, but now they want to put funny men and women in funny robes. No wonder God is so pissed off he's sending hurricanes to select cities in order to solve the problem. No, wait, that's a Southern Baptist thing......sorry.

Which brings me to my point. Religion is so funny. If there's one thing religion is famous for, it's a long list of rules, and if there's a rule to be broken, you can bet some sinner is going to come along and break it, just out of spite. Since day one, just about every religion in the world has been written, produced, and directed by men, mostly men in power, to insure that ordinary (which back then usually meant dirt poor and ignorant) people, especially the female version, were kept in check, subservient, and pliable, made to fight wars and keep the holy ones fat and happy. Today, thru some miracle of social evolution, some of us, mostly "western" nations, have painted this canvas in nicer colors to give the illusion that women are actually respected, considered the equal of men, and are "given" freedoms that on the face of it are supposed to free them from the oppression of familiar rape, low wages, and other discriminations worthy of a weaker sex. Those of us with half........no........make that even a quarter of a brain, know better, even if we happen to be male. Religion has made all this possible, even in this day and age.

Well, I have a clue for you, all you holy people, all you Popes, Bishops, Mullahs, Preachers, or whatever you want to call yourselves. You are scared to death of the idea of women walking beside you, not behind you, as equal partners. You know just how weak you are in the grand scheme of things. You have a lust for power, you are lazy, and truthfully, by any measure that means anything, you are fucking loony tunes. Yes, like any man, I fully agree that many women, thanks to their hormones, can be challenging to get along with. I would also like to suggest that men, with their testosterone overload, can be fucking animals. And yes, those animals just love to adorn themselves in fancy robes and claim that God has chosen them to run the show. They manufactured God, after-all. And we all know why.

OK, I can hear it now........"The Michael, you speak of being Wiccan, which is a religion, and you seem to be equally guilty of making up your own beliefs as you go along to suit your own agenda." You know something, taken out of context, you are exactly right! I am "exploring" Wicca as something to believe in, to practice, and hopefully upon full examination, will have made a choice that, as it calls for, "Does no harm". Being human and all, I might not be up to the task, as it requires that one go far beyond the human condition and attempt to actually be one with the world in which one lives. But I'm willing to give it a shot. What I am not willing to do is remain with the label I was given at birth, which was "Catholic", and ignore the hypocrisy required in order to be a good little soldier for Christ. The same Christ which was somehow said to give the OK to burning people at the stake and driving whole races of humans toward extinction. So, you go be a good Catholic, Baptist, Muslim, Scientologist, or whatever mishmash of rules and regulations you care to slap together, and good luck with your afterlife. Me, I'm going to make my life now somewhat bearable, and worthy to have been lived, if I can. Whatever comes afterward is out of my hands anyway.

In The News.......

2006-07-27T22:41:00.000-04:00

It's the middle of summer and your daughter comes up to you while you're blogging and pulls on your sleeve, "Daddy, why are the leaves falling off the trees?" Irritated, you get up to go look with her and explain the life cycle of leaves, only you stare in shock as the BROWN, dying leaves rain upon your browning lawn, which was perfectly green the day before. You are witnessing a rain of ultra-violent radiation killing your plant life as a major hole in the ozone layer passes over your area. You and your family will notice the sunburn later.

People are lining up on the banks of the river to witness the amazing fluorescent green thing it has become. The river-keeper has been complaining about fertilizer run off from river front properties for years now, and warned that last years' algae bloom was merely a harbinger of worse things to come. You and the other citizens of the River City believe him now, only now this river is dead save a bright green slime that is thriving on the overload of nitrogen. The lawns look nice tho, don't they?

The local business community is up in arms because their employees are having to choose between showing up at work or paying their bills. They have tried car-pools, tried to get the local transit authority to provide realistic transportation alternatives to people who can't afford the $5 a gallon gas prices, but government has been slow to respond. Disneyland is in danger of having to close down altogether; it costs far more to get there than it does to get in. And suddenly Walmart can't seem to offer low, low prices thanks to shipping costs. Exxon and every other Oil company in the world now have more money in the bank than the U.S. Mint.

Development of Southern states in Hurricane Alley has come to a virtual standstill. Not one new housing loan has been approved in the last two years. Politicians keep making noises about the need for affordable wind damage insurance, but all those insurance companies pulled out of these states. Failure of homeowners insurance companies to offer renewals prompted a huge increase in foreclosures until mortgage companies realized that NOBODY could get coverage and backed off till they could figure out how to protect themselves. In the meantime property values have plummeted, and homeowners have begun to think of their homes as HOMES rather than investments.

Using the common sense approach preached by proponents of free market forces but never practiced, the Solar Car company of Methuselah, Tennessee begins mass marketing of a truly practical electric car at prices no higher than your average economy car. Sales are booming as people flock to these dealerships to find a way to get to work that doesn't involve gasoline. By years' end, sheer volume of sales actually brings the company a profit in it's first year of production. Sales by the big three AND foreign juggernauts plummet.

Streets are flooded in major sea-side metropolitan areas as the promised rise in sea level brought on by global warming begins to make it's presence known. The Army Corp of Engineers is overwhelmed by demands by Congress to throw up seawalls to hold back the water. Immigrant Venetians rise to the occasion by having water-taxi service ready to go as the depth of flooding on fifth avenue averages three feet.

You don't have to be psychic to predict that these are the stories you'll be reading in the paper in ten, hell, maybe even five years. I hope you'll come back in ten years to tell me how wrong I was. I really do.

Idolatry at it's finest

2006-07-26T22:45:00.000-04:00

My wife has been involved in an extreme spurt of creativity brought on by her pursuit of Wicca. One thing I can say about this belief system is that it utilizes symbolism that rivals most any other faith. Together we are working to surround ourselves with totems of our love of Gaia and the power inherent in the Earth we tread upon, in our home and out in our sacred space, the shade garden. So, I proudly display for your viewing pleasure the fruits of my wife's artistic efforts. You might think of this as "folk art", but however you view it, I think the quote, "I may not know art, but I know what I like" applies. My wife thinks I simply humor her. I don't. You be the judge.

Surviving the "Dark Side"

2006-07-26T15:39:00.000-04:00

One of my favorite all time bloggers, who had gone into semi-retirement, returned to post that she has probably retired for good, and listed a litany of reasons for this, the gist of her abandonment from this medium being that it is rife with artificiality, soap-opera drama, and all around fiction being given as fact, amongst other things, many of these complaints being quite reasonable, others simply throwing out the baby with the bathwater. As disturbing as all this is, I find this not much different than just about any endeavor being abandoned for having some negative aspect. I respect her decision, but it saddens me nonetheless.

Way back in the day, when I had more time and energy than stuff to keep me occupied, I picked up model rocketry as a hobby. For such a "silly" endeavor, it sure took alot of time and dedication. Competitions were scattered all over the place, not just locally, and once I even drove in a '69 Honda Civic (those cars were not exactly designed to comfortably hold large or numerous human beings for extended trips) with my first wife and a very tall friend all the way from Houston Texas to Lubbock in the middle of winter to attend a regional championship. It could have been described as a truly miserable experience (and I KNOW my wife at that time thought it was) were it not for the records I captured and the people I got to meet. Lots of things can go wrong at these gatherings, such as lost rockets, exploding rockets, and irresponsible people doing dangerous things that could get someone hurt. Then there's politics, and yes, even a meeting of the NASA/ Houston Chapter of the National Association of Rocketry was rife with politics and squabbling and interesting clashes of personalities. You could pull out your hair or you could focus on what you loved about the sport and fly rockets. It's all relative.

I've been involved in chat rooms on the net, and nothing brings out the worst in people than these anonymous free-for-all meeting places where anything goes because it can. People come away from these places thinking the entire world is one big lie, simply because they failed to take everything they heard with a grain of salt. Chat rooms are a whole new ball game in the world of social intercourse, and we have not yet adapted to this new way of communicating, and yes, trying to tell which is which, and who is who. Look at it this way.......those of you who have, for whatever reason, watched an episode of Jerry Springer.........if you honestly think for one second that this is a real, genuine snippet of life, then you really need to get a clue! Just like "professional" wrestling, it's all one big comic opera and when you start taking this stuff seriously, you are losing touch with reality.

Just as there are all kinds of people in our social circles, so are there an odd assortment of people writing blogs that might be fudging the truth. For most of us, this medium is a new kind of journal, the kind we used to write solely to ourselves, and there wasn't much sense in making things up. That's what fiction is for. However, some people have such a strong need to be appreciated, to be admired, or to create some sort of life better than their own, that they have taken to using blogs to create these ficticious worlds in which to make themselves feel better. Yes, I suppose it is right and proper that this should anger us, since we come away with a sense of betrayal when these people fail us in this way, but perhaps pity would be a better emotion to waste on them. In the end they mostly harm themselves when their false worlds fall apart, and they lose their new found "friends". The only people they hurt in return are those that invest themselves in these characters, as I have said, without leaving open the possibility that what they read is not entirely the truth. I have a friend who blogs whom I imagine to be a certain way, but I am fully aware that I could one day discover she is nothing like she presented herself to be. I simply accept that as the price of present trust, something I'm not prepared to totally abandon just because there are bad people in the world. Besides, my life is not dependent upon the lives of others as I read in blogs......it sucks sometimes simply of it's own accord.

My own approach to blogging has been a learning experience from the first word I typed, and will constantly evolve as I go on. I try to balance what makes for good reading with what is prudent to reveal, whether or not my own personal quirks and behaviors are approved by others or not. To reveal that my wife is a witch could possibly be considered an unwise thing by some. I do not. She is what she is and I love her very much. To reveal that our finances are a constant headache could be considered another misstep. I consider it honesty, nothing more. The fact that I bitch and moan and examine what's wrong with the world pushes some people's buttons.......well....to bad, go hit "next blog" and you won't have to suffer it any more. But then you won't get to laugh at me while I laugh at myself.

While I do spend a bit of time trying to produce material for my blog that keeps my readers interested, if I had other interests away from this computer which burned more of my time, then I would spend a bit less time here. But, to write about what happened to me doesn't have to take up more than perhaps a half hour, and I waste that much time trying to remember where I left my coffee cup. So, if you think that blogging is taking up all your time and keeping you glued to your chair, then lighten up, back away, drop the chalupa, and budget your blogging time accordingly. It needn't become an obsession that takes over your life. Just remember that it never took you two hours to write in your diary, it shouldn't take forever to tell us about the "A" your daughter got in chemistry, how the dog ate your slippers, or why you think The Michael's blog is insightful, interesting, and downright enjoyable, even if you think he's flat out lying about everything he types.

Which he isn't, my friends, although he tries to paint an otherwise dull life in fluorescent colors, just to make it interesting............grin.

"And miles to go before he sleeps......"

2006-07-25T19:17:00.000-04:00

I've been following the Buffalo on his trip across America. I get the impression he hasn't quite found it yet. This is not to say he hasn't made quite a few discoveries along the way. Somehow he's managed to find differences along his route in a country that is busy getting rid of differences. The one thing that does seem to remain constant is weather that doesn't often cooperate with the moment, as well as motel's that seem to think you should pay mortgages for a nights rest.

I have yet to decipher whether or not Buf has decided that the trip was worth taking. He's met plenty of interesting people along the way, although it's not certain he would not have met the same sort of folk within 5 blocks of his home. Hospitality and inhospitable behaviors seem to be a hit and miss proposition; no one area seems to be able to lay claim to either. At least it's apparent that our intrepid developers haven't been able to level all the mountains and fill in all the valleys; there are still topographical features remaining in this country that are worth seeing firsthand.

I think it must be mentioned in all fairness that one cannot truly judge a place and the people who live in it in the short time you spend there just passing thru. Buf is not sucking at the teat of some rich daddy, thus he is hostage to economic realities which do not allow him to hang out in any area for very long. Most vacations of any length usually allow you to focus your attentions on all that one place has to offer, and sometimes even then you are only scratching the surface. So, I have to offer that Buf is probably missing as much as he's seeing on his two wheeled journey. It is nice that he managed to snag a companion for the trip to help keep his sanity. Bob knows there have been plenty of people along the way testing that.

Unless I missed that chapter, our intrepid hero has also avoided having to ventilate the barrel of his good buddy, Mr. Gun. I also failed to capture any episode that involved him scraping his arthritic knuckles on some miscreants face; purely by accident, I'm sure it would have been. Not to say that his demeanor has not been tested, for it is well known that all across this land there are people who could use a good dose of Buffalo. They have no idea how fortunately they are to not have encountered him on one of their particularly bad days, when people tend to go out of their way to invite a good hurt on themselves. Now, I know that Buf is not the kind of guy who would embark on such a venture with any express wish to get into it with anyone.....but.....stuff happens. The fact that it hasn't happened is, as I think he would agree, a good thing.

I have thoroughly enjoyed this trip with this talented writer and liver of life. Although I am probably reading everything that will be in his book, I will pay gladly for my own copy regardless. Buffalo is truly a talented wordsmith, capable of spinning a grand tale, whether it be about the noises he hears on the street in front of his house, or some misadventure he had many years ago in far away and unfriendly places. I hope that all of you who have been equally faithful fans of The Buffalo can find the time to use that all-powerful word of mouth to insure his book is a great success, for if any of us deserves to succeed in this dog-eat-dog literary world, I think he does, if for anything else, walking the walk before talking the talk.

Pruning

2006-07-24T22:57:00.000-04:00

I have always been of the opinion that according to natural selection, nature really screwed up with humans. In every ecology on this planet, there is a system of checks and balances, predator versus prey, populations thinned out according to available food supplies, etc, etc. Once that success story of all primates, the human, got a foothold, all bets were off. Over time, mankind overcame all resistance, subduing those creatures that could prey upon him, becoming capable of even totally altering his environment, until he was able to spread across the globe with no competition or control other than the overwhelming power of the elements and disease to keep his numbers in check. However, a second look has me rethinking this.

Imagine if you will what the population of the human race on this planet would be if it were not for the wars we have fought, if there had never been a genocide, a world war, a holocaust. Imagine that every one of those people that had perished in all those conflicts instead went on to procreate. Had we suffered losses only to pandemics, famines, and natural disasters, the impact on population would have not been nearly as significant as the deaths suffered at our own hands. Thus, it seems on closer examination, nature DID install a mechanism to at least slow our ability to reproduce. Let's call it the WAR gene.

This gene, this wiring in our brains that has remained with us throughout our evolution, has maintained within us a strong tendency towards aggression, be that by the gang banger in the hood, or the Texas borne silver-spoon fed rich kid power puppet residing in the White House. You cut off someone in traffic, unintentionally or otherwise, and chances are good he'll go ballistic and start an automotive war right there on the pavement. Look at a gang of young teens the wrong way in the wrong neighborhood and you can get dead real quick. The Iraqi's are proving just how violent an entire culture can become given the freedom and ability to exercise their demons. It has never been unusual for men of any culture to assault the people closest to them, their wives, and even vice versa. Boxing and other violent sports are still perfectly acceptable ideas of sport in the "civilized" world. There is a trial wrapping up right now in my locality involving 6 people and a dog getting killed over a misappropriated X-Box video game console. Now, you tell me, what better control could there be for an animal that has the capability to wipe out every other species on this planet? Seems Mother Nature at least tried to instill some fail-safe while we were evolving into the monsters we have become.

Yes, it would be nice to imagine a world devoid of all this violence, this mindless warfare, this horror that we as a species have inflicted on our home and the wild life that has survived us so far. However, removing this propensity for violence alone would not solve our problems. No, we would also have to have within us a heightened sense of empathy, and understanding of the intricate symbiosis that is woven into the fabric of all life. We tread heavily where ever we go, and we cannot continue to do this and have any hope of not ending up extinct on the surface of a paved-over planet, the air unbreathable, the water all poison, not a green thing to be seen anywhere. So, even though I must conclude that nature did her best when natural selection selected the human to reign supreme, she could not account for the power of intellect, which combined with aggression, has made us simply capable of violating every natural law laid down before us. Yes, ultimately, we WILL be kept in check, finally, forever, but quite possibly not without taking every other living thing down with us. I raise my glass to you, Gaia, as I mourn your passing, even as I witness my own. Better luck next time around.

La Dee Flippin' Da (An Undiscovered Country)

2006-07-21T21:29:00.000-04:00

It is not very often that a comment leads me back to an undiscovered country, a hidden treasure, a silent symphony of sublime literary pleasure. Yet, it has happened, and I truly must share this discovery with that miniscule percentage of the blog reading population which has made Dances With Leaves the renowned unappreciated masterpiece that it has become. I have always been a firm believer that men are better at many things that women aren't, and vice versa, but when it comes to writing, well, that all goes out the window, as proven to me by Shandi, The Alley Rat, and other feminine literary geniuses. This girl is no exception. From what I have read so far, she does not come from highfalutin' academic roots, nourished by the ivory tower masters, yet I dare say she can spin a web of word with the best of them, in an easy to understand and grasp manner that befits the commoner, that being you and me. I think you probably agree with me, you minions of the 9 to 5, that there can be such a thing as too much eloquence and excessive use of as- yet- to -be- defined- words. Thank Bob we have the likes of Jessica to keep us on an even keel.

I was so impressed with her ease of blog-speak that it alarmed me greatly to discover that I was the only one to have read her blog and commented on it. THIS CANNOT STAND! So, my loyal readers ( I know, the check's been in the mail for quite some time now, but you will get your kickbacks, I promise) I besiege you, I insist, I DEMAND, that if you have any trust whatsoever in the judgment of the Michael when it comes to great ways to totally waste your time for a good cause, then you MUST rush over upon the conclusion of enjoying this great blog of mine and peruse through the artistic literary stylings of " La Dee Flippin' Da " and then come back and admit that maybe The Michael knows what he's talking about (Yes, I understand the percentage increase in the kickbacks required....). Tell her The Michael sent you, and she'll give you a ten percent discount on keychains. It's an inside joke.

Yes, I fully realize how shocked you all must be that The Michael has lowered himself to posting shameless promotions, but if I ever intend to dump this dead-end job of mine and find success and fulfillment in this world, I really need to get in some practice, and this is as good a time as any to do it. I'm not getting any younger, or better looking. Besides, some of us (ahem) seem to think (cough) that posting on a regular basis is nothing more than a hobby, a harmless pastime, an afterthought to their exciting, action packed lives, and have slacked off in their responsibilities, so we need fresh meat; young, impressionable and industrious newby bloggers who honestly think they can make a difference in the world with mere words. I admit it. She's already made a difference in mine.

The Michael Gets All ECLECTIC Again

2006-07-20T15:15:00.000-04:00

It's a very hot and moist afternoon here at Pendragon Hold and I just finished listening to Billy Holiday's rendition of "Blue Moon". I'm amazed at the kinds of stuff I'm hearing on this internet radio station. Listen to me, ditch your favorite pop or rock or alternative or country station and try out some of these eclectic offerings. No, you're not going to dig every song you hear, but common' man, expand your horizons, get in on all this wonderful stuff just begging to be heard and enjoyed!

So, welcome to Eclectic Post #39, brought to you by the good folks here at Dances With Leaves, the Blog that leaves (get it, l e a v e s? I'm just too funny!) you sated yet strangely wanting more! And no, we have no Chinese staff members; go figure. In todays episode, we would like to examine the socioeconomic underpinnings of that aggravating conflict over there in Lebanon. Notice I said want. We have decided instead to just let 'er rip and see what happens. We feel much more capable handling free flowing gibberish, rather than all that in-depth, philosophical ying yang that is required to make examinations of conflicts on the other side of the world seem relevant. Besides, it's hard to make comedy out of that kind of insanity.

The wife and I have been trapped in this double wide castle for a whole week now, and I keep hearing my wife say over and over again, "I'm bored". I think she hates the fact that as long as I have this computer and my playstation I can keep myself satisfied. I have hidden the baseball bat.

The money ran out several days ago, as well as the snacks, wine, and vodka. Pure sobriety sucks, let me tell ya! If it weren't for Netflix and new (although mostly lame) episodes of manufactured rock star shows, we'd have gone catatonic by now. However, we are waiting with bated breath for the paycheck to arrive in the checking account this evening so that we can replenish the stocks of comfort liquids and solids.

The dog got his semi-annual bath today out on the front porch. He hates that. Shiloh happens to be one of those models of dogs whose coat was designed to repeal water, probably for hunting moose in the snow somewhere in Norway, so it really galls him when I deliberately take the hose sprayer and FORCE healthy amounts of H2O into his fur, not to mention copious amounts of shampoo. But he does smell a lot better. Damn, now that I think about it, I could have moused him while I was at it to cut down on the shedding! However, the wife has just informed me of what a dumb idea that was. Wives have a way of keeping you honest. I could have been a friggin genius by now if it wasn't for her.

I was watching a show on NOVA (that's a scientific PBS show for those of you who never wonder away from reruns of "Friends") that attempted to provide the laymen's' understanding of string theory and how it has the very good possibility of explaining EVERYTHING. Well, they never managed to explain even the simplest concepts of basic algebra to me, and they think I'm going to breeze through Quantum Physics? Try throwing in some alien warships and time traveling hitch hikers with towel fetishes and I might make some sense of it.

However, some of the off-the-wall ideas advanced by string theory has given ammunition to my belief that their might actually be a real, scientific basis for magick, as practiced by witches. The mere fact that observation alone actually changes the observed, gives me pause to think that intent can actually be a force that can be harnessed by the human mind. Mankind all through the ages has harnessed forces of nature without completely understanding how those forces actually work, so it stands to reason that wizards can utilize powers that on the face of it seem mystical when in reality they are simply following rules of physics we have yet to fully understand. I myself can testify to the magick this woman weaves on me......grin.

Shandi struck a nerve with one of her posts concerning flaws she couldn't overlook in potential mates. Whether or not I was justified in the essence of my comment, it could have been less knee-jerk than it was. So I want to apologize to Shandi and anyone else who read the comment, and assure everyone that I hastily recalled the assassin I hired to avenge my hurt feelings. I must have been having an "Islamic" moment there folks; it won't happen again.

I have been following Buffalo's progress on his trip across America, and I am so thankful we have hardy individuals like him to take it on the backside so that we don't have to. Riding that many miles on a machine that vibrates at a frequency designed expressly to liquify your vertebrae really takes stamina! Just getting a Harley Davidson to complete that many miles without a fully loaded semi of spare parts is amazing in and of itself! On one page he has questioned ever taking the trip, while on another, attempting to describe the wonder of having done so. I fully understand. Such is the long, strange trip, my friend. No matter the route or time taken, it's a singular experience that can't be replicated by any other person. Savor it, even when it hurts. You did it..........we didn't.

And so I close out this edition of Dances with Leaves to the tune of "Black Bird" as performed by someone with a real jazzy tilt to it. It's good. The Beatles will not be offended. I wish you could have heard it.

Manufactured Rockstars and Undiscovered Gems

2006-07-18T23:01:00.000-04:00

Back in the day (for you youngsters out there, that's back when two separate channels coming over a radio was REVOLUTIONARY), we had no real idea where our rock stars came from, they were just THERE. There was no on-the-air evolution going on, these guys were hot right out of the gate. There were mysterious moguls behind the scenes selecting these bands out of the hinterlands and grooming them before they dared let them on the airwaves. And a DJ could kill you dead before the second note was uttered. Yep, DJ's were GOD in those days. It would be quite awhile before punk rockers could come anywhere near a radio station, because there were so many truly talented people fighting for the relative few spots available on the AM and FM radio dial. And, for the most part, there were no GENRE radio stations where you had to sound just like everybody else in order to get your five minutes of fame. EVERYBODY got a chance to strut their stuff, from the motown wonders to the psychedelic dreams to the flat out hard rockers, they all shared the same stage. One minute you could be listening to a Harry Chapin, the next, Steppenwolf. Harry Chapin wouldn't have a rats' chance in hell getting played these days, except perhaps on internet radio, and not alot of that talent is filtering thru to the airwaves. The corporate model has ruined FM when it comes to musical democracy.

Now, starting with American Idol and being copied with Rockstar (fill in the band) and The One, we have our rockstars being manufactured right in front of our eyes, no pretense whatsoever. Of course, the public is being led to believe that they are having a direct say in which one of these hopefuls is actually going to be declared a "rock" or "pop" star, but since the voting debacle that got Chris questionably kicked early from this last competition, I seriously doubt it's that cut and dried. And, it seems that no matter how "original", "fresh", or whatever "thing" these individuals are bringing to the table, they tend to get cooky cuttered before it's all over with, so determined are the powers that be that they be marketable to the biggest possible demographic. Taylor HIcks somehow survived Simon's efforts to have him dismissed as irrelevant and made it to the end, but whether we ever hear from him again, on the radio, remains to be seen. Anybody remember Clay Akin?

In my surfing thru Google to find pagan material, I happened to stumble over a band named "Gaia Consort", a group based in the Pacific Northwest that rivals any power group I ever heard on FM, only they write and perform music with a pagan flavor. They have been around for quite awhile now, and have produced about five albums, all of which you can actually purchase on the iTunes Music Store. The lead singer can often sound just like one of the lead singers of Bare Naked Ladies, and that resemblance adds alot of punch and smiles to many tracks. You might not exactly GET the lyrics to many of these songs, but if you really pay attention I guarantee they will speak to you on some level regardless. The main reason I mention this band in particular is that you will NEVER hear them on mainstream FM, simply because they decided years ago not to play the commercial game and went their own way, content to be really big fish in a really small pond, and have not made it BIG, accordingly. Which is a dirty rotten shame, if you ask me, because these are self-made artists who are every bit as talented as any I heard on FM, and I think the world suffers not being exposed to them more than it has. I'll include the link to their site, where they graciously allow you to download any of their songs you desire, with the hope that maybe you'll be impressed enough to do the right thing and buy and album or two. Try walking out of a music store with a free track from Metallica, I dare ya.

www.gaiaconsort.com

Getting to know you, getting to know all about you..........

2006-07-17T18:47:00.000-04:00

Tim made some really great points concerning who we are and who other people might THINK we are based on what we say in our blogs. He's right when he says that a person is greater than the sum of his parts, and you simply can't decode those parts as seen in a blog and come away with a proper and accurate understanding of that person. Sorta reminds me of singer/songwriters and the ideas people get into their heads based on the songs these people create. Some of the worst people personality-wise write the most beautiful songs. It's a shame, but that's life. Get over it.

Which brings me to my twist on this subject. They say that first impressions can make or break you when it comes to relationships. This can apply to lovers, friends, coworkers, you name it; just about anyone that you relate to in some fashion or another. Thing is, though, if you make your assumptions based on that first impression, chances are you've really gotten it wrong. This has been a real problem for me, as I was born with this perpetual frown, or rather look of seriousness, upon my face. It hasn't helped me when it comes to first impressions. If there's one thing I have heard more of than I'd really care to hear, it's, "Smile!"

Well, dammit, I probably AM smiling, but doing it behind a neutral expression that Bob in his good graces installed on my mug when I was born that most people interpret wrong. Believe me, I might LOOK angry when I'm not trying, but you'd DEFINITELY know if I really WAS pissed off. I'm truly sorry folks, but right now I can't afford to have a plastic surgeon install a nice, friendly neutral expression on my face.

I suppose that makes me one of those people they are talking about when they say, "Oh, he's pretty damn nice once you get to know him." I bet friends of bikers say that alot. This is not to say that everybody is going to like me or get along with me, because lots of personalities just don't mesh. There are things about me that I have come to recognize over the years that could use some adjustment, but remembering that when it's a good time to do so isn't as easy as I'd like it to be. My major flaw is a mouth that is far too motorized than it needs to be. If you see a vein popping on my forehead and a look like I'm about to explode, relax, it's just me catching myself talking to much and trying my damnedest to shut up and listen, even though I have this need to interject something profound into the conversation. And, no, chances are it's anything BUT profound; I just happen to think it is. Thinking too rapidly rarely does me any good, but does provide lots of regret later as I slap myself on the forehead and ask my incredibly amazing self, "what in the FUCK where you thinking?!"

Despite all of it, my personality flaws and an unreadable face, I honestly think I am a rather nice and caring person. But, like I stated up THERE ^, that's based on a possibly flawed and clueless self-assessment. So, in the end, I have accepted that what truly matters is how I am perceived and understood by those who deal with me on a daily and prolonged basis that really counts. I mean, you may not GET me in that first five minutes, but you will eventually, unless you are a slave to first impressions, and nothing I do is going to overcome that.

So, as you read my blog, please don't think for one second that you truly know me. Yes, I hope that in the end, you wish to believe that I am a good person worthy to know, but you can't really know that without knowing me in flesh and blood. In return, I am not going to judge YOU one way or another, based on what you have written, for I am well aware how equally unfair that truly is. Except for that dweeb troll I suffered awhile back that is......I KNOW YOU'RE A FUCKING ASSHOLE!

Post XXVXGGMIV

2006-07-16T18:09:00.000-04:00

Copyright 2006, TheMichael Inc., Ltd., & other various abbreviations........

The story you are about to read is true. The names have been fabricated, not to protect the innocent, but to place the blame on others who may resemble the characters in these circumstances.

Any resemblance to any persons, living, dead, or embalmed but hanging in there, is purely unintentional, as they have refused to pay the licensing fee I impose for mentioning them in this soon-to-be award winning blog.

This is not void where such things are not prohibited. If it IS prohibited, then I will plead ignorance, since ignorance is forgivable under the law, as is currently being demonstrated by our esteemed president.

The following is recommended for mature audiences. If you are not mature, but are in the audience, just make sure your guardians are not aware that you are reading this, as they might get very angry at me, and you wouldn't like me when I'm angry.

Violations of copyright law are punishable by some government agency, I don't know which, that prints dire warnings on DVD movies, as if some pimply faced kid pirating videos is the slightest bit worried they are going to get caught.

And now, our feature post................

Dammit, honey, I TOLD you not to touch that button..........

Super Heroes

2006-07-15T21:45:00.000-04:00

Super heros. Fodder of comic books and feature films. They intend to display the best virtues that humans are claimed to possess. Superman, who wasn't even from this planet, vowed to fight for truth, justice, and the American way. Honor, courage, strength of character, all these things were the shining example they strove to uphold. Some of mankind's earliest super heroes were the Knights of the Round Table, those mostly fictitious warriors who upheld the idea of chivalry under the wise leadership of King Arthur. But, really, we all know better, don't we? To be human decries any hope of being a super-hero, so flawed are all of us in one aspect or another. Today we are lucky to have police departments, or even combat units, that we can count on to live and perform their duties with honor and integrity. I am not saying that the majority of these men we depend on do not address their calling with the best intentions, but they are, like all of us, human, and sometimes they cross over to the wrong side of that line.

There are so many professions that are made up of individuals who fail to understand the depth of responsibility that comes with their chosen careers, or perhaps are incapable of really caring. Prosecutors are charged with dealing with those amongst us who threaten our peace, yet sometimes they get lazy and think that a body count is proof they are doing their jobs rather than putting away the animals that stalk us. based on true evidence. These people are not super-heroes, they mock the very idea. Teachers who gain tenure and sleep at their desks, or hide behind them, will not provide us with future super-heroes. Presidents who think the job is about power and wielding that power against critics make us all look bad. Reporters who spend their time chasing flash and hype, rather than seeking the truth we need to truly enjoy democracy threaten that democracy. And soldiers who think that an M-16 makes them judge, jury, and executioner might as well fight for the other side for all the good they are lending to their country.

I know why we need super-heroes. We want to think as humans, we have within us incredible powers for good, knowing deep inside we are much better at being villains. Well, I have known super-heroes, and I have found them in the most ordinary places, never to be celebrated on the pages of comics or the big screen. One is Holly, a critical care nurse. She is a devout Christian, but you wouldn't know that unless you asked her. But you would suspect it, if you knew her and watched her care for her patients, not because of the money, although I know she needs it as much as any of us do, but because that's how she performs her amazing feats, although she would never admit to that. Another is one of my new nurse managers, a rather plump and jolly lady who called me up at home just to thank me for not complaining about a certain work assignment. I felt like I was being respected, something I rarely feel these days, and that to me was heroic. Another hero I admire is Al Gore, a man maligned for his stiff character and liberal heart, who handled a questionable defeat with grace and dignity, and went on to do what he could to make us realize that the survival of the human race was at stake when all the nay-sayers were dismissing global warming as liberal hype. And certainly not the least of my super-heroes is my wife, who despite my ineptitude as a husband and provider, makes me feel like a super-hero myself, when I want to feel anything but. Now, none of these people have super powers, but they do have what it takes to be what we would prefer the definition of humanity to be. They have heart. Good hearts. And I'll take that over super-strength or the ability to leap over tall buildings any day.

The Continuing Saga of Recovery

2006-07-15T19:13:00.000-04:00

It's day two post-op, and the wife's pain is doing better thanks to the Demerol. I used to tell my wife that one of the things that attracted me to her was how "bright" she was in just about any surrounding. As pissy as many shoppers can be, there ARE many nice people whom have been her customers, one of whom just sent her flowers and a note telling her to get well and that she is missed.

Under her learned tutelage, I managed to produce a most excellent pot of home-made chili, from start to finish. I snuck in some extra chili powder, and despite my fears I might have overdone it, I sighed a breath of relief as she announced it was very, very good. And I agree. It WAS! Of course, I'm no dummy. I know damn well that she has diabolically taught me how to prepare, and be responsible for, another favorite dish. She's no dummy either.

Putin and Bush; now aren't those two a pair? They hide their disdain for each other under this guise of being good buddies. Dubya, your good buddy, whose eyes you gazed into and pronounced to have a good soul, ain't no good old boy. He's an ex-KGB officer who misses the good old days, and he's going to, one way or another, bring back that Soviet Union, and we'll be right back where we started. As much as I hated Reagan, there's no way in hell he'd be performing a bad parody of "Broke Back Diplomacy" like you are with this man. Get a clue, Dubya.

NBC nightly news just did a spot on global warming, and it just occurred to me that I might have made an EXCELLENT real estate acquisition. When the sea level begins to rise as the Antarctic and Greenland ice caps melt, I may very well find myself in possession of an acre of beachfront property! If anybody is interested in investing, this parcel is just big enough to fit a nice beachfront condo on.......hehe.

Oh, and there HAS been good news today. The Discovery and it's brave crew are still alive. One must find silver linings wherever they can be found.

Until my next exciting post, be well, and blessed be.

Val Kilmer's Fat Face, Demerol, and the Fear of Death

2006-07-14T23:27:00.000-04:00

Today I bought a small quantity of a higher quality vodka, or so the bottle insinuated. The cheaper stuff I'd been buying attracted me by it's promise of having been distilled four times, rather than the mere three times promoted by a more expensive brand. Then, this Swedish stuff topped THAT with no less than five, count 'em, five distillations. I bit. I bought. Now, I probably committed an atrocity by mixing this fine elixir with the cheapest store brand orange juice I could have gotten, but hell, all things being relative, this is one smoooooooooooooooooth screwdriver I'm enjoying as I type this post. I would also like to qualify all this by mentioning that this vodka was on sale. I am, after all, a caviar individual on a fish egg budget.

I was just watching a better-than-I-expected movie entitled "Kiss Kiss Bang Bang", starring Robert Downey Jr and Val Kilmer. Val has gotten a bit fat in the face. OK, the point. If you want to achieve a certain immortality or fame beyond your own accomplishments, raise a brilliant kid and name him Junior. That "Jr." tagged onto his name insures that in a roundabout you will not be forgotten for an additional generation, hopefully by his good works and not the trouble he gets into. Junior is as famous for his civilian hijinks as he is for his acting. So much for immortality.

I know there's no way in hell that I could be elected president. However, let's go out on a limb here and imagine I could, and that I have. What is it that The Michael wants to do that stands him apart from every other dickweed that has occupied that hallowed office? First off, I would (as far as I know) be the first American president ever to apologize to the world in general for what the last president did in the name of the American People. I would direct the Attorney General of the United States to find any possible reasoning he can think up to bring that asshole up on charges, and no, no amount of bribes would buy him a pardon. I would enact and shame congress into passing sweeping legislation to reform the corporate structure, and I would force the oil companies, or any company that sells necessary commodities, to charge what it actually costs to produce these products, plus a reasonable profit.
I would reform the credit system in this country so that you either get credit at reasonable interest rates, or you don't get it at all. No more of this piling debt up on the American people to prop up a wobbly economy so that people can pile up junk in their garages. And yes, I would expect to be assassinated during my first term.

As a young man, had I really had the capacity to contemplate living till my nineties, I probably would have thought it a worthy goal. Even now, I am not all that keen on the possibility of dropping dead with a heat attack at this keyboard, getting blindsided by an SUV tomorrow as I run errands in my Ford Focus, or dying for some other freak reason. However, I have reached this magic stage in my life when the idea of death doesn't have that horrifying texture to it that it once might have had. I suppose it's because I have worked side by side with death for more than ten years now. I suppose it's because it seems I have reached the end of my journeys for this trip around. I suppose it's because I have discovered so many more horribly worse situations to be in then dead. And, I suppose it's because I have been liberated from the fear of hellfire as promised me by those who tried to make me believe in a "loving" God. Whatever the reason, it may yet be early, but I am ready. I know that instinctively I am going to experience at least some minor terror should I realize that I truly am going to die fairly soon, but at least at this moment, I am not afraid. I wish I could convey how comforting that is.

Right now the wife is going through a rough patch. Her finger is really hurting her after her surgery. We had to call the surgeon and ask for stronger pain killers and he prescribed Demerol. It's an improvement, but I have been around this sensation long enough to know that the term "painkiller" is an optimistic term at best. Personally, I have only experienced a few episodes of extreme pain, once when my finger was crushed in a machine and another when my ribs were broken by another machine. Yes, I suppose machines have it out for me. Oh, and that bad case of shingles was no picnic either. So I am trying to empathize with The Wife right now having to hear her cry at night because the pain pills she was initially prescribed were not up to the task. I try not to allow my feelings of inadequacy overshadow my concern for her suffering. As a husband, there is some rule written somewhere that states I am to kiss it and make it better. You Moms know what I mean. That kiss helps, in some manner, but it doesn't make it better. I really feel so helpless right now. The new pills seem to be working at least a little better. I wish there was a pill for my own failures.

I'm beginning to wonder if having so much to write about is necessarily a good thing. Sometimes boring is preferable to having plenty of blog fodder, if you know what I mean. Please believe me when I say that in the grand scheme of things, if stuff like my wife is suffering and vodka distilled five times is really smooth and the world sucks and I'm not afraid to die is the best I can come up with for a blog, well, it is what it is. This is reality, folks. I couldn't make this shit up if I tried.

2006-07-14T19:22:00.000-04:00

I have always been rather critical of Israel's "carte blanche" status in the Middle East, always supported by the U.S. no matter how heavy handed it has responded to those that threaten it. I understand you need to go after terrorists who wish to wipe you off the map, but bulldozing people's homes because their idiot teenage son was brainwashed into becoming a suicide bomber only creates more of the same, a never-ending cycle. I have always had this surreal pity for the Palestinian people, who had their homeland stolen to create the State of Israel, and have been treated about as badly as American blacks were in this country and almost as bad as the Jews themselves were throughout history. It's as though the Jews of Israel took to heart the fine art of persecution.

OK, we can poke fingers at both sides, but this latest fiasco is beyond ridicule. First, Hamas, having been elected by a clueless and angry populace in the Gaza Strip, demonstrates why Israelis hate them so much by immediately sneaking into Israel proper and kidnapping soldiers, as if Israel was going to immediately cave into their demands to get them back. DUH, where in the hell are your brains, you idiots? If there's ONE thing Israel has demonstrated time and time again, it's that it does NOT negotiate with terrorists and it bites back HARD. I'm sure the citizens of the Gaza strip are so impressed with your good governance....... Now, as if stupidity were contagious, Hezbullah, their terrorist brethren to the North in Lebanon, have done the same thing, and now the citizens of Lebanon are feeling the effects of such folly. Like I said, you fuck with Israel, you suffer the consequences.

What is really apparent about these people, is that despite their grievances, real and imagined, they cant seem to understand, or if they do, care, what effect their actions have on those they claim to represent. I can tell you one thing, Hezbullah does NOT represent the interests of all the citizens of Lebanon, yet the innocent are suffering alongside those with vested interests in this group. Lebanon has come so far from the civil war wracked wasteland that sectarian strife had made of it, and now their peaceful progress is once again threatened. Equally, the Palestinians had a good chance of determining their own fates with the withdrawal of Israel from the Gaza Strip, and now that has been totally wasted with the election of the worst possible kind of people to represent them. Almost sounds like our own elections, doesn't it?

The holocaust created a new race of Jew, a people that never again will meekly be persecuted by every other race in the world because people need someone to hate. This has had the effect of arguably turning these people into the very kind of overlords that once tried to have them eliminated. In many ways, Jews now think of Muslims in much the same way that American Caucasians imagined African Americans. It's easy to demonize a whole class of people when many of those people publicly vow to kill every last one of you. So, peoples of the Middle East, keep glorifying cowardly terrorists who claim to have your best interests at heart while incurring the wrath of a people who have survived time and time again the jaws of genocide, and believe me when I tell you that this war will NEVER end. Rise above your oppressors, disavow violence, seek peaceful coexistence, and you'd be amazed what could happen. We here in America know what can happen; and we have a holiday named after the man who showed us how; Martin Luther King, Jr.

Poor Man's Photoshop

2006-07-14T08:37:00.000-04:00

With some time on my hands, I decided to see what I could do with The Printshop, a program I acquired awhile back for greeting cards and such. It has limited functionality as far as photo manipulation goes, but I suppose with a bit of practice you could produce some pretty neat stuff. I was just screwing around and came up with this. I think Tim is safe as king of illusion.......

Pinkies, Pain, Promises, and Politics

2006-07-13T18:20:00.000-04:00

I'm taking a caretaker holiday for the next week. The wife has had this finger problem for some time now, ever since I accidentally closed a metal gate on her pinky. The finger hadn't actually been broken during the freak accident (me not knowing she had her hand on the post as I swung the gate shut), but the trauma that did occur fueled the arthritis that she already has in her joints and the finger eventually became crooked and painful to touch, prompting a trip to the finger doctor who decided the joint had to be fused.

So, we are home now after the operation. The surgeon opened up the pinky, cleaned up and aligned the bones, inserted a small metal rod and wired it all together. She's sleeping right now with a bandage around her hand that looks like a boxing glove. I just hope the percocet keeps her from suffering to much while this finger heals. In the meantime, I have assumed the full-time role of chief cook and bottle washer, nurse, and distractor, all of which I am fully qualified to assume. In return, bless her, she's promised me a full day in which she is "at my disposal", and whatever you wish to assume that really means, I plan to take full advantage of it.........hehe. However, since full use of both hands are a minimum prerequisite for this particular job, it may be awhile before I can hold her to it, and no doubt I imagine she is hoping I forget all about it. Sly little devil, I do love her......grin.

Well, our experiment in power conservation has apparently paid off, as this month's power bill is $20 less than last month's, and I expected it would have been almost twice as much had we not gotten medieval with the electricity around here. It is still a terribly high bill, for us at least. As the price of fuel continues to skyrocket, it's going to hit everybody hard no matter what they do, and more money the energy sucks out of our wallets, the less we have to spend on things that keeps the economy healthy, or even our basic bills. I hope the stockholders in Exxon and other oil companies are giving at least passing thought to what their paper wealth is doing to the rest of us, but it's amazing what people can't see through green lenses.

Despite the efforts of many companies who are involved in commerce on the net, it seems that congress is being well payed by those lobbyists who what to cash in on access to the information highway, mainly by forcing those who want higher bandwidth access to pay thru the nose for it. Very soon we may well be forced to pay what we now pay for cable grade speed just to maintain a dial-up connection, while the well-to-do will have to pay higher subscription fees for the convenient access to movie and music downloads or even blogs like these. Frankly, this pisses me off, because this is just one more method of corporate control and censorship via capitalism, so only those who can afford that $5 for the first three minutes will get to express an opinion or expose something that needs to be known to the rest of us. Makes me wonder why any of us should bother to vote anymore when it's becoming apparent that it's not the people who are controlling our lives that we get to elect these days, and the ones we DO elect are simply bought and paid for by big business. China is already practicing the kind of corporate democracy we are steadily heading towards now. Yes, America, I know, we have choices.........love what we are given or walk away.....and starve. Isn't freedom wonderful?

Now imagine if one day the highway patrol started pulling people over on the highway and asking for your ID, then shooting you right there on the spot if you happen to have the wrong last name. Suppose the Jones decided the Smiths all deserve to die. That's what life in Iraq is like these days. Pre-Sadam, Post-Sadam, what in the hell is the difference? Oh, I know.........it's now a free and democratic Iraq! Well, then, ain't that special?

Meanwhile, the Taliban, that awful bunch of Islamic extremists we were supposed to have toppled in response to 9/11 are back in even larger numbers. Seems they were on vacation in Southern Afghanistan while we were making Kabul safe for democracy. Now I know how to spell that word that defines the Bush Administrations foreign policy........FUBAR.

In the meantime I would like to thank all of you bloggers who have become such a blessing to my sanity, especially Tim and Shandi who have been somewhat prolific lately with their wonderful and hilarious posts. It helps to distract me from these weights on my shoulders, which I am so thankful to be able to bear so much easier with your able assistance, in words that rival deeds in what they do for me. Who in the hell needs a bible when a much more honest truth is available right here on this screen, courtesy of you very special souls whom I have come to have much affection for. Thank you.

Yippe Ki-Yay, Mother&(&^(&^(%'s

2006-07-10T10:00:00.000-04:00

Some would think that comment on the redneck, conservative, fundamentalist mindset was a recent phenomenon, but believe me, it's nothing new. Probably beginning with the Nixon Administration, those with an educated, insightful, more progressive outlook began to point out, either thru parody or outright illumination, the inane way good-old-boy America approached being American.

One of the first singers I heard back in those changing times that really struck a chord with me with comic observation was not even an American, but boy did he ever get it right! There is a song on his "Don't Shoot Me, I'm Only The Piano Player" album that to this very day says it all, as far as I'm concerned. Do YOU know who recorded this?

TEXAN LOVE SONG

I heard from a friend you'd been messing around
With a cute little thing I'd been dating uptown
Well I don't know if I like that idea much
Well you'd better stay clear I might start acting rough

You out of town guys sure think you're real keen
Think all of us boys here are homespun and green
But that's wrong my friend so get this through your head
We're tough and we're Texan with necks good and red

So it's Ki yi yippie yi yi
You long hairs are sure gonna die
Our American home was clean till you came
And kids still respected the president's name

And the eagle still flew in the sky
Hearts filled with national pride
Then you came along with your drug-crazy songs
Goddamit you're all gonna die

How dare you sit there and drink all our beer
Oh it's made for us workers who sweat spit and swear
The minds of our daughters are poisoned by you
With your communistic politics and them negro blues

Well I'm gonna quit talking and take action now
Run all of you fairies clean out of this town
Oh I'm dog tired of watching you mess up our lives
Spending the summertime naturally high

So it's Ki yi yippie yi yi
You long hairs are sure gonna die
Our American home was clean till you came
And kids still respected the president's name

And the eagle still flew in the sky
Hearts filled with national pride
Then you came along with your drug-crazy songs
Goddamit you're all gonna die
oh, lord
Goddamit you're all gonna die
yes, lord
Goddamit, you're all gonna die

Madness, Musings, and Mickey

2006-07-08T20:28:00.000-04:00

When one reads the rants and raves of another, there is a certain quality to the words they craft that either gets your attention or causes you to abandon them altogether. That can be a shame, for one day it may be drivel, the next, outright brilliance. I'm sure that Einstein, Plato, even Christ had their bad days, and to have been judged for their musings during that snippet of time would have changed the course of history. If Christ had fed the masses with one hotdog or bag of peanuts during a World Cup match, I doubt anyone would have noticed, quite frankly. Thus, I am glad I have returned more than once to see what Mickey has been blathering about.

Mickey's cache' is that he is Christ incarnate, a madman, both, or neither. That on the face of it would normally cause me to dismiss him altogether, for I am sure he is in insanely good company and I don't have all their blogs bookmarked. However, because I was paying more attention to what was being written between the lines rather than any premise, I sometimes feel as though I have struck literary gold. No, I don't really care that he hates his Sister's guts (I might have misunderstood in that regard but it hardly matters) or that he has issues with inanimate objects he suspects might be possessed by Satan. But I DO care that his eloquence at times could never be attained by someone of relative sanity. Perhaps his madness, much like my own, is an acquired taste, but believe me, pay attention and you GET IT, and find yourself grinning from ear to ear.

I don't really believe Mickey believes in Christ as the Son of God, much less that he himself IS the Son of God come back to us in a straight jacket, but as a schtick it works well for him. If I had the misfortune of hopping on the lithium express, I would go with Napoleon, myself, since we both share stature and a sense of unappreciated arrogance. Instead, in the throws of my sanity, I have chosen to pay homage to my imagination (a word that seems so much safer and superior to madness) by doing part time evangelizing for Bob the Almighty, who has enlightened me in many ways concerning the answers to life's nagging questions. My only saving grace is that I have chosen to accept this knowledge as personal enlightenment borne of my own ethos rather than blaming it on some hapless superior omnipotence who's just trying to mind his/her/it's own business. I'm sure Bob doesn't want to be blamed for the holocaust anymore than Ken Lay did for Enron, the later actually deserving to be, in my opinion. The day mankind takes responsibility for it's own atrocities, the sooner we'll stop committing them.

A man ensnared and held hostage to his own voices is a lonely man, which is why I am thankful for the likes of Mickey, as well as Tim, Shandi, and the Buffalo, and even the occasional peeps from darling gina. If Mickey were ever cured of what supposedly ails him, I think something weirdly wonderful would be lost forever, thus, shamelessly and selfishly, I dare hope no cure is ever found. I like Mickey just the way he is, at least as I know him on a monitor. In real life, I'd probably be practicing my restraint techniques on him, keeping him safely imprisoned in the hospital bed until the shrink showed up to decide what to do with him. May we never meet that way.

Monsters

2006-07-06T23:05:00.000-04:00

Our mental constructs are so much richer than the world we find ourselves in. Our imaginings have created worlds and creatures that that arguably never were and, still again, may never be. Yet, It is already apparent that fiction can be a precursor to some future fact, as was so ably demonstrated by Leonardo DaVinchi and Jules Verne. Verne foretold the submarine in a time when such a vessel was clearly an impossible construct, although he came very close to describing in great detail what would ultimately come to rule the sea. DaVinchi imagined many great possibilities which are now hauling us around in the sky, were used as weapons of war, etc. But the most powerful paintings of fiction are those of creatures of myth and legend such as the dragon, the wizard, and the monster of various configurations. Which makes me wonder if the real creatures that inhabited the Earth with us were simply not terrifying enough, that man had to fashion even more incredible beasts from his imagination, such as those that inhabit the myths of the early Greeks. The creature most famous in historical fiction is the dragon, a beast born of many distinct cultures, that breathed fire and terrified hapless villagers with it's nasty disposition till such time a heroes could be found to dispatch it to it's rightful death. The Krakon probably was birthed from the wild and fearful imaginations of seafarers who could not process the glimpses of strange creatures such as the giant squid and the whale, who even in their terrible size and strangeness still were inflated to such capabilities as attacking and dragging down entire ships, or so the tales would tell.

Where once we spun these tales on papyrus, parchment, and paper, we now consume our myths on televisions and big movie screens, the better to lend outrageous power to even more terrifying creatures and invaders than even the most imaginative of the ancients could conjure. As we push our fellow animals towards extinction, we need new and more powerful enemies to be afraid of, if only in our nightmares. Yet, I would suggest that there has always been one creature upon this Earth that has put all others to shame, one so innocent in construct, so evil in capability, that is real and genuine and is to be feared above all others, for this creature shall truly be the death of us all. That creature has created this post and reads it upon publication; that creature being US.

Blogged with Flock

Birthdays, Birthdays, always another Birthday........

2006-07-03T21:36:00.000-04:00

Eighteen took an eternity. Twenty one, well, it was about friggin time. Twenty-five, it was nice. Thirty, well, it snuck up on me. I never saw it coming. I looked back and couldn't for the life of me remember having been around that long. I was fully prepared for forty. Forty was good. And I still looked maybe twenty six at the most, although a few years earlier they had stopped carding me.

By the time forty-five ambled along, I'd had enough. No more birthdays for me, nosiree! The larger numbers were having some wicked psychological effect on my body. It was slowing down, and pains that used to go away weren't doing that any more. Strange hairs started growing in weird places. I started having this idea I was getting wise in some ways. Instead of knowing everything like I had back at eighteen, I was starting to realize there was a hell of alot I DIDN'T know about shit. So, forty five was about as old as I was willing to get.

That's when I decided to ditch the old tradition of adding another candle to the cake (which I hate, by the way; I prefer ice cream) and simply celebrate my annual forty-fifth birthday every year, much in the same vein as Jerry Lewis' Labor Day Telethon, the annual Thanksgiving day parades, etc, you get my drift. Since I don't appear to be aging, I can get away with it. If I shaved my beard, with it's sneaky streaks of gray in it, I could easily pass as 36 anyway. Sure, there's gray in my hair, which I have been blessed by these great genes to still have plenty of, but nobody notices it unless I point it out to them. When you tell someone how old you are and you have to resort to pointing out stealth signs of age to back it up, then you know you have it sussed. Still, coming home from work feeling like my legs have been beat with iron bars, and waking in the morning with my back on fire keeps me honest, at least to myself.

I always felt that I was meant to be delivered on the 4th of July to celebrate our nation's independence, but the stork got held up in a holding pattern for two days and thus I was late getting here. So, on this 6th of July, after all the smoke has cleared and the four day holidays are over, I get to celebrate my Sixth Annual Forty-Fifth birthday. Anyone who suggests I'm really 51 is a liar! We here at Pendragon Hold will enjoy the day as usual......which these days is nothing special. I don't do cakes, 45 candles are a fire hazard, and we can't afford anything I really, really want, so I will enjoy this day the way any sane man should; being glad I'm still alive, not homeless, and in relative good health, married to a woman who adores me in her own irreverent fashion. The state of Florida will give me the gift that keeps on giving, that being the requirement that I get my tags renewed, and AARP will make another attempt at convincing me that I'm a senior citizen in dire need of protection from those young whipper-snappers in Washington.

If there truly was a deity that answered prayers, it would be for this one gift; to want those things worth wanting, to be blessed to have what I do, and the smarts to understand the difference between that and that 56 inch plasma HDTV I feel so guilty at lusting after. But honestly, the special request I'd put in if He/She/It were accepting them would be that my wife would be cured of all those pains that have haunted her in most of these years I have known her. I've given her precious little more than my love, and that's all she's asked of me. That's what makes every birthday I've had these past 13 or so years so special, no matter how I calculate them.

Damned if you do............

2006-07-02T14:02:00.000-04:00

OK, it is quite apparent that at least 50% of our fellow Americans just don't seem to "get it" when it comes to understanding just what it is that makes being American so special, something we have come to expect others to aspire to. The recent rash of bad behaviors by our troops over in Iraq are perfect examples of violations of principles we hold dear, exactly the same principles that were so baldly violated back during the Vietnam war. We EXPECT our enemies, namely those who hold no values that get in the way of their aims, to commit atrocities during the course of conflict, but in order to adhere to a higher calling, a standard of conduct that is required in order to claim to wear the white hats, we Americans must restrain those natural tendencies to lower ourselves to the level of those we consider inhuman, even as they test us by their refusal to play by the rules, for failure to do so lowers us to their level and makes us no better than them.

I keep hearing how this "war on terrorism" requires a different approach, a relaxation of the rules of combat, in order to defeat an enemy that fights from the shadows and can only be considered evil. Well, then, where may I ask does it stop, this dunning down of honor, of principle, of being able to sleep at night knowing you allowed yourself to abandon the principles you swore an oath to protect? Can you tell me with a straight face that your following orders that violated the Geneva Conventions were no different than those orders that were so faithfully followed by the average Nazi soldier during World War Two? Can you look a fellow warrior in the eye and declare yourself justified in committing cold blooded murder, because one of your buddies died having to drive a humvee down a road littered with IED's? That's no different than killing a Great White Shark because your buddy decided to dive into the water with one and became dinner for his troubles.

We also are trying desperately to justify this strange version of justice that Dubya, in all his dubious wisdom, has crafted and applied to insurgents and terrorists, by virtue of the fact that they can't afford and don't apply much necessity to uniforms. I am not saying that a goodly number of these pathological criminals should be regarded the status of "warrior" as is subscribed in the Geneva Conventions, but there is a damn good reason the international community came up with these rules as regards to warfare. So, think about it, one can either be judged a "warrior", based on what he does, how he does it, and what he's doing it for, or you can judge him a common criminal, no different than the serial killer, the violent racist skinhead berserker, or the mad dog maniac who slaughters a whole family. You either charge them with a crime, or you don't. You can't have your justice and ignore it too, at your convenience.

Now, it is quite obvious that we have a new generation of mad dogs running around the world committing the worst atrocities imaginable, and we call them terrorists. These individuals do not hide their identities, they proclaim from their hidden cesspools of shelter what their intentions are, and they make no pretense whatsoever of obeying any rules of decency. These individuals by virtue of there own declarations paint bright red, humongous targets on their chest and dare us to score a bulls eye. It's an invitation we have no problem accepting, and the rules in this case are simple; you hunt them down and kill them. They have already abandoned any pretense of deserving of any special treatment under any rule of warfare, totally voluntarily and of their own volition. No need to waste a good jury on deliberating their guilt or sentence. What more can a moral society ask for?

Well, apparently, this particular leader we happen to have been saddled with under questionable circumstances is to damn lazy to and to simple minded to understand that this special consideration does not apply to everyone that hates us and takes a shot at us. The arab guy walking down the street at about the same time that a marine patrol is ambushed or an IED has gone off shouldn't have to be resigned to the fact that he was at the wrong place at the wrong time. It should be a given that there was SOME evidence that he had something to do with this crime before someone pounced on him and hauled his ass of to Gitmo and held him there for years without even charging him with anything. Yes, it is quite possible that he had something to do with it, but then again, so does the average American caught in the vicinity of a criminal act, but that does not justify assumptions that rob a person of due process, not here, not ANY where. And what if it just so happens that this person whom we hauled off to hell because he was " walking while Iraqi" DIDN'T have anything to do with the crime? What have we done? Number one, we didn't get another terrorist or insurgent off the street. Number two, we just earned one more reason for the average Iraqi to hate our guts. Number three, a clear cut violation of internationally recognized human rights was committed by none other than the nation that was most famous for protecting human rights. The damage done by this "easy-button" method of dealing with enemies does us as much harm to us as it does our enemies.

This country has to stand for SOMETHING. If we continue to change the rules as we go along, applying them differently to one group as opposed to another, ignoring the principles laid down by our founding fathers, then we risk becoming the very people we claim to be holding the line against. Perhaps the qualities that are possessed by individuals who wish to lead include an allergy to having to rule according to the rule of law. And perhaps we have to reassess what kind of qualities we desire in our elected leaders. I honestly do not think that fully half the people in this country are so brain dead that they can't understand the corrosive effects that blind patriotism can have on the rights that we hold so dear, but sometimes it's hard not to think that perhaps to many people in this country are too comfortable in their comfort and righteousness, and need a real wake-up call. Let's just hope they wake up before we all find ourselves staring down the barrels of the guns of our own gestapo.

Please Stand By for an Historic Announcement!

2006-06-30T20:33:00.000-04:00

Ladies and Gentlemen (cough), tonight I introduce to you the post of posts, the premier prognostication (shut up, spellcheck), the ultimate utterance, the font heard round the world..........

We are experiencing technical difficulties, please stand by.......

(what do you mean we lost it? Lost it HOW? Didn't save? DIDN'T SAVE?! What are you, a bunch of idiots? Dammit, I spent minutes typing this masterpiece up, spent what seemed like an hour researching it, and you tell me that you shut the damn computer down without saving what might possibly have been the equivalent of the Watergate tapes, the Dead Sea Scrolls, the Bob Almighty NEW TESTAMENT of blog posts......????!!!!!!!!)

ahem.......

Ladies and Gentlemen, it seems that tonight's post has suffered a tragic accident. The normally talented and hardworking staff here at Dances With Leaves would like to apologize for robbing you of what may very well have been the post to end all posts, the kind of literary wonderment that few people in the literate world could ever have hoped to have the opportunity to read. We are so heartbroken, in fact, it has been decided that in order to make amends, we are all going to line ourselves against the nearest wall and have ourselves shot with very large caliber weapons. We feel this is the least we can do for having failed so miserably to provide you with the kind of quality expression that you have come to expect from Dances With Leaves, but never really enjoyed. The survivor of this great sacrifice to literary excellence (the lucky SOB who draws the short straw), will provide you with high quality digital photographic evidence that this sentence has been carried out, in hopes that the graphic detail said photos will provide will somehow cater to your thirst for vengeance for having been slighted so horribly. We thank you for this opportunity, and hope to have the blog back up and running in time for the next post, which we will now admit ahead of time shall be quite mediocre, as not to be forced to waste another perfectly good editorial staff, as it is frankly getting rather difficult lately to recruit adequately talented people to work for us, especially for what we can afford to pay them.

Sincerely yours......

The MICHAEL
Executive Editor
Dances With Leaves

Anybody know where the white-out is?

Caught in the Middle

2006-06-26T13:07:00.000-04:00

One of the most conceptually brilliant yet poorly executed jobs in a wide variety of disciplines is that of the middle manager, that poor hapless person who is assigned to supervise the underlings in a department and wring as much performance out of them as possible. When these people do their jobs correctly, they are invaluable to their departments, providing assistance as a resource, a little extra "oomph", plugging the holes that pop up from time to time and pumping up the morale of their workers when things get hairy. Or, they take what would otherwise be a well oiled machine consisting of experienced people who know how things work and totally screwing it up.

Half the time it's not the clueless individuals fault. While the guys in the trenches who are actually performing the work know what works and what doesn't, and are committed to getting the most return for the least effort, the person appointed over them usually hasn't a clue as to what's going on yet is made to believe they have some god-given superior knowledge that they need to impart to those beneath them. Now, the superior knowledge we speak of is that magic piece of paper we all know as the college degree. The degree might be in English literature, basket weaving, or pop psychology, and might not have anything to do with selling shoes or producing transistors, but it is still expected to translate into some magic management ability. And you wonder why the fresh faced pimply college graduate that just got to appointed to manage you seems to be out to destroy you and your department, if not the entire company.

It is well known in the military, although I'm not sure this is imparted to the fodder at the service academies, that if fresh young lieutenants desire to survive their tours of duty, that they best listen to their older NCO's. Theoretical leadership is one thing; leading the charge into stupidity due to lack of real life experience is another.
I would suggest that aside from the military, and sometimes even including it, the two major courses of study that need to be majored in when it comes to managing people is Respect and Humility. When you are first entering ANY field of endeavor, you may come with fresh ideas and idealism, but you are only asking for failure if you think you have all the answers and ignore the resources at your disposal already present in your assigned department. And if you truly expect to succeed, for yourself and your company, then respect and humility are two virtues you ignore at your own peril. These people you are expected to lead will not follow you, and will even go so far as to sabotage your agenda if you do not draw upon their knowledge and experience before running roughshod over their contributions to the collective. With their help, you have the potential to become an excellent manager. Without it, you invariably will become the monkey wrench and your career will be short.

So whose to blame for middle managers being the bane of the worker, the customer, and the company? Well, simply put, it's the people who hire them. These are usually upper tier management types who came up through the ranks by rote rather than actual work and have no real idea how their workers do what they do. They hire BODIES, preferably with that magic piece of paper, and throw them into the fray with very little preparation, orientation, education, or any real explanation of what's expected of them or how to achieve it. They usually pay them just enough to compensate them slightly better than the hourly staff, yet work them incredibly long and inconvenient hours for a set salary. The buck usually stops with them, but only after the hapless greenhorn manager has destroyed the morale of the department, causing the best ones to quit and firing the rest. By then the damage has already been done, they get fired or demoted, and then the cycle begins again. In the meantime, another group of hourly, hard working stiffs are taught to hate college graduates and the companies that employ them.

We are constantly fed this ration of shit about how we can all become upwardly mobile in the business world by taking advantage of higher education, adapting our skills to the new realities which keep changing all around us. That's all fine and dandy, but let's say we ALL become college graduates and become middle managers. Who's left to do the work? Do we genetically alter orangoutangs to "man" the sales floor? Do we train chimpanzees to fabricate computer chips? How about an especially bright rhesus monkey to take care of you in the Critical Care ward of the hospital? Is THAT how critical the common hourly wage worker is viewed in the workplace? Does knowledge and experience count for anything when it comes to value in the company?

I occupy a particular niche in my organization which is not particularly well compensated or respected in the grand scheme of things, yet I know the impact my contribution has on this entity which cannot easily be done without. Sometimes I have to provide my own sense of self worth in order to give my contributions some validity. But, I am sure that I am in the majority in that respect, so I am fairly confident that what I have discussed here rings true with many people. What I would hope is that those of you who have aspired to become or are middle managers understand the foundations upon which your position are built, and perhaps that you endeavor to develop that all-important virtue of RESPECT and HUMILITY that wasn't taught to you in college or written into your employment contract. You might find yourself actually becoming a big help to your fellow man rather than someone we'd just as soon murder in the back store room.

Results 1 - 10 of about 7,060,000 for incompetent managers. (0.27 seconds)
Incompetent Managers Cost Businesses Too Much
Incompetent Managers Cost Businesses Too Much. ... The cost to business of leaving an incompetent manager in place is high. It costs the company in errors, ...
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Performance Management Instead of Layoffs
It costs too much to leave an incompetent manager in place. If the employee won't request a return to a level at which they were competent, the company must ...
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Ten Signs of an Incompetent Leader
I recently changed employers after suffering with an incompetent manager for 4 years. It was difficult - I had been with the company for 13 years and am 49 ...
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BBC NEWS | Education | One in 10 workers 'incompetent'
I agree there are a lot of workers who are incompetent. But this applies to managers too. Often incompetent managers are asked to report on staff who are ...
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Advice Line by Bob Lewis | InfoWorld | Reader: The problem is ...
Reader: The problem is incompetent managers. Filed under: None. Bob ... The response to Reorg'ed sounds like the standard management school line with all ...
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Job Seekers Advice :: View topic - Incompetent Managers!
Incompetent managers. Evil or Very Mad ... Also, some managers don't want to change. At my current workplace, my supervisor has no real desire to expand the ...
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How to avoid recruiting the incompetent
Incompetent managers often make their subordinates' lives quite miserable and more senior managers are often too slow in recognising the symptoms. ...
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The incompetent manager: Part two
When I wrote in my last Headhunter piece about incompetent managers, I didn't expect much of a response, but the article really touched a nerve! ...
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The Adams Principle
Scott Adams: I'd say 10 percent are villainous; 90 percent are incompetent. The Dilbert Principle explains why there are so many incompetent managers. ...
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How to Deal With a Lazy Manager
She is technically Incompetent and just repeats what she pumps from others. ... 06/10/04. Incompetent managers are hired by incompetent managers. ...
techrepublic.com.com/5208-11179-0. html?forumID=7&threadID=153145&start=0 - 116k - Jun 25, 2006 - Cached - Similar pages

Death of a Tire

2006-06-25T17:45:00.000-04:00

Ah, the excitement of living on the edge! The tire that I plugged and put about 3 cans of fix-a-flat in to hopefully wear some tread off before having to replace it decided it didn't want to live anymore and blew out on me while going to pick up the wife from work. I had budgeted enough time to get there to pick her up on time, yet I still managed to get that toy tire they call a spare onto the car and still make it only five minutes late. Am I good or what?

The thing about dirt roads is that you get to pay more often for front end alignments than you normally would if you enjoyed the luxury of paved access. Not only do I have a fairly good tire with a puncture that won't stay fixed, but the right front tire is getting rather thin thread-wise on the left side of the wheel, thanks to the beating our washboard road inflicts on the front end. Oh, sure, they grade this road at least once every two weeks, but that washboard effect returns in no time at all, that is, if it hasn't rained all week and turned it into a mud bog. So, I have TWO tires that have to be replaced, AND a front end alignment to boot. Just one more reason we're broke all the time.

I know that the car manufacturers put that itty-bitty "space-saving" spare in there only to get you to the nearest tire store, but perhaps you've noticed how many cars are driving around on these things as though they came standard equipment. The truth of the matter is that sometimes we have to drive on these things for several weeks before we can afford to replace them, which is why I'm happy as hell that they engineer these "temporary tires" to higher standards than they will admit to. The warning labels say "Do not exceed 50 mph", and "Only use to get to the nearest service station". Yea, right. Service station? I haven't seen one of those places in years! There are gas stations, but you're lucky if they even have an air pump, much less "service" of any kind. Anyway, anything that costs anything usually has to wait till pay day, and then I get to rob peter to pay paul.

We've been "roughing it" since we received our last electric bill. In an effort to reduce the damage on the next one, we have taken drastic measures, such as washing the dishes in the sink (my generation was raised without dishwashers, so we know how it's done), actually hanging clothes outside to dry, and shutting off lights when they are not needed. I think I have every bulb in this house replaced by a fluorescent, so there's not much more I can do about that aspect of power usage. I've even given up my daily hot bathes in favor of an every-other day shower, with some touch-ups in between to keep from getting ripe. Now THAT has to save SOME money on this damn electric bill. There is one thing, however, I refuse to give up, and that's my air conditioning. Air conditioning in the South is like the life support system on a space craft. Especially if your more suited to living in Alaska to begin with. I have it turned "up" to 78, but that's as far as I go. So, we'll see if all this frugality is actually going to have any effect on our bill or not. Personally, I think it won't. They'll just jack up the "fuel charge" to ensure it's outrageous, no matter what I do, short of living in the hot, humid dark.

I really had some profound thoughts percolating around in my mind today that I wanted to post, but first I had to take care of the auto angst. Posting about it is something like taking a deep breath and letting it all out. Very cleansing. Over and done, time to move on.

Stay tuned for our next exciting episode when the wife spies me naked and the chase begins!

P.S.

Dearest Troll,

If you are reading this, I hope it provides you with your minimum daily requirements for something to bitch about, since you have this overwhelming need to complain about people who mention the bad things that happen to them that you consider so much pablum. I tried very hard to seem as though this was an Earth shattering event in my life. so that you could draw upon your inner rage and righteousness concerning my need to get a life. I do so try to accommodate you. If I have failed to whine and moan in a manner consistent with your standards, please let me know so that I can add the appropriate manner of drama to my next catastrophe which will sufficiently fuel your ire. Thank you and have a nice day.

The War Tapes

2006-06-23T18:49:00.000-04:00

There is a movie out called "The War Tapes". This is footage taken by soldiers during their missions, without any of the "hollywood" being used to craft what occurs on the screen. I haven't yet seen it, but I did catch some snippets of it on the news. I could see immediately that this is what the American people needs to see. You will see the down and dirty reality of the world these guys find themselves in. You will see cultural confusion, mayhem, things going horribly wrong, and humanity being found in the most unlikely places. It's one thing to hear narrative by those who hate this war, and by those whose job it is to put positive spin on the mission. It's something else entirely to see this world virtually thru the eyes of those who are getting shot at, without all the bullshit editing. Of course, there's no way in hell you are going to see video of American soldiers gone wrong as has been brought to light recently, but there is one incident involving a humvee vs little girl that highlights the tragedy that can occur in the least expected ways.
They say that history is recorded by the victors, and as such, the record can tend to be rather one sided. There's no way an American sitting in their easy-boy can have the same view of this war as the average Iraqi who has endured this hell over the last five years. No matter what their understanding is of religion, history, politics, geography, or this thing we call democracy, the Iraqi's viewpoint of Americans is colored by what has happened to them in the vicinity of American military power, or even the death and destruction snuck into their midsts by the insurgency and the terrorists. One way or another, Americans are going to either be blamed for what they did, or for what they didn't do, for everything that is happening now began when a brain-dead American President and his rich handlers put our fighting men in harms way for no good reason.
Even highly educated and politically astute Iraqi's now find themselves trying to survive in a world that has gone from bad to worse, and have learned giving credit to Americans for any good they might have tried to do is a no-win situation, for they can be killed just for thinking that we are anything but infidel crusaders who are occupying their country.
Anyway, thanks to portable high tech media, we are able to get first-hand glances at the truth rather than the rah-rah glossy spin that the mainstream media and our government likes to feed us. And thanks to these brave men who carried these cameras, we can make up our own minds whether or not we will write history to favor the victors, or to favor the truth, however painful it might be.

Not sure about this.....

2006-06-21T22:03:00.000-04:00

Well, I get a look at the results of posting with this new browser and I see that somehow it uploaded TWO of the pics I intended to insert. I think I might stick with what I know..........

Testing a New Toy

2006-06-21T14:30:00.000-04:00

OK, I just loaded this new browser which is supposed to make blogging easier by integrating it into

the browser. Let's see if this works..........

Blogged with Flock

Where there's New Bloom County, There's always Hope......

2006-06-19T22:23:00.000-04:00

If bloggers were rock groups, I would almost count myself as an "Aspects of Amber", as well as her husbands associated "Views from a Penised-American" groupie. I have no real idea why I enjoyed her blog so much once I came across it, but I guess the content rang with me on some level. She is truly gifted when it comes to writing about whatever she thinks or about what happens with her and her family. Or maybe it's just me.

I remember how long we die-hard Beatles fans held out for a Beatles reunion, and how devastating it was when John was murdered, putting that dream more or less to rest forever. In retrospect, had they actually kissed and made up, they might have actually fallen flat on their collective faces with new material after having done somewhat rather well with their individual efforts. Ah, but one can always imagine.........

Some people do things so well, so naturally, they seem oblivious to just how amazed others might be with their talents. I suppose they are too close to themselves to understand the impact they have outside of their influence. Now, I don't want it misunderstood that I am the kind of person who can be so rabid about ANY person and their talent that I could ever be considered a FAN of the worst kind, much like those people who dress up as Klingons or Vulcans and attend every Star Trek convention they can get to. If I were to spy my favorite singer or song writer across the room, I would not make any overt effort to approach them and swoon, because aside from their talent, as far as I am concerned they are simply human beings, no better or worthy than myself. Besides, it would annoy me to no end if they came across to me in any superior sense, because I know damn well they put their pants on the same as I do, even if they have servants do it for them.

So, due in part, I believe, to this oblivion, Amber has decided she doesn't need the pressure she might have felt in posting to her blog, and has taken a take-it-or-leave it approach to the whole enterprise. Well, I can understand. There is so much to life and enjoying said life outside the pages of a blog, and one does not always lend that much weight to recording it for the enjoyment of strangers. Again, sounds logical to me.

But........well........DAMN..........I'm in withdrawal. I hate admitting to it. It's silly on the face of it, but there you have it. It's as though the paper boy rides his bike past my house and deliberately refuses to throw me my Sunday paper, even though I subscribe to the damn thing, and he does it with a smirk on his face. You miss those comics, those Circuit City sale papers, the commentaries, etc. You miss it because you can sit down whenever you have the free time, take your time, and slowly savor each and every printed word. Much like a well written blog that you have gotten used to. Sometimes you want to throw some tacks on the sidewalk in revenge. But of course you don't. You just die a little bit each day you see that same last post just sitting there, perhaps never to be updated. It's like your favorite dog died and still hasn't returned from the Pet Semetary.

If Amber is still visiting us, this might perhaps piss her off. She'll contemplate sending me an e-mail telling me to chill, that she has better things to do, doesn't need the judgment, yadda yadda, and she would have every right to. However, I want to hopefully head that off by saying that even if she never posts again, I just wanted to tell her that while she did grace the monitor of my Imac, she added just a bit more wattage to the sunshine of my life. She made me laugh, she made me smile, as I am sure she did whoever read her fantastic blog. Whatever she does in the future concerning "Aspects of Amber", I wish her well, whether that be an occasional post, another full blown run, or leaving it behind forever. At least many of us were given a quick look through the window of a life well lived, and to me that has been as good as any novel I ever read. And should there be a sequel in the works, you can count me at the head of the line to get first glimpse at it.

Just Another Soap Box Derby

2006-06-17T22:44:00.000-04:00

I know it's not wise to classify people with a broad stroke, but my experience seems to indicate to me something that is rather straight forward. The more "conservative" a person tends to be, the meaner they tend to be at the core. Now, inherent meanness is also a symptom of people who lack empathy, who tend to behave in a violent or anti-social way, such as stealing, robbing, or any number of ways that have a negative impact on the people around them, but you would think that educated, law-abiding people who consider themselves moral and religious would be constrained from these same behaviors, and they are not. Some of the most outspokenly "moral" people seem to show up alot at protests spitting on people and screaming at them that they are going to burn in hell. They tend to be the ones most likely to interfere in the personal lives of people they don't know, such as gays or some other group they view as being less than human. They manifest themselves as police and prosecutors who worry more about opening a can of whoop-ass on those they consider scum, than serving and protecting the public, no matter who that public happens to be. They show up in congress passing every law they can cutting off assistance to those less fortunate and in need of help to find some hope and meaning in life. You find them running private companies and corporations doing everything they can to get as much work out of people while at the same time cutting back on their wages and benefits, presumably in an effort to maximize the returns to their stockholders (and maximizing their own personal wealth while they are at it). These people sport perfect haircuts, impeccable suits, drive statement cars, and hobnob with all the "right" people. They are pillars of their communities. I wonder about the strength of these pillars that are said to hold up our communities. Seems like a pretty weak foundation to me.

There is not one person that can consider themselves the slightest bit intelligent who can claim to not know the basic difference between right and wrong. Yet, their definition seems to be that right is anything you can get away with, wrong those things you get caught doing. Students seem to think that cheating at exams are simply tools for success, and those who can skillfully wield these skills will see that success. Those who don't try are dopes. Lobbyists get paid to promote the interests of their clients, and you have to wonder how so many of these bright, intelligent individuals can cash their rather large checks and sleep at all that night, considering the things they do to promote those interests, and how outright immoral many of those interests are. Subcontractors take federal moneys handed out by the truckloads in times of crisis, and retire to their new hot tubs laughing at how easy it was to get rich putting a few tarps on damaged roofs. And meat packing plants, corporate agricultural giants, and developers welcome illegal aliens with open arms, so willing are these downtrodden individuals to be exploited in order just to have a job. Are all these people possessed by some devil?

Something rather frightening is the idea that most, if not all these people, really do know the difference between right and wrong, and simply don't care. What's puzzling is how easily those who claim to be religious, with all it's moral teachings and promised rewards/punishments, justify their clearly off-kilter interpretations of the moral code. We know that many God fearing people actually do conduct themselves in such a way as to reflect the teachings of Christ, yet just as many somehow act as though they got the teachings of Christ confused with the Satanic Bible. We are already coming face to face with the power of a corrupt interpretation of the Koran, and just how bloodthirsty it's adherents can be. Our past is also equally painted in the blood spilled by Christian inquisitions. Perhaps the sin we commit the most is the sin of self-serving righteousness.

Those of us who have no idea what to believe in are not in the clear. We are dependent entirely upon our influences, our upbringing, and perhaps something genetic in order for us to see paths to take through our life that does not run roughshod over our peers. As our societies are constructed, you would think there was some tangible reward for living our lives in some benign, caring manner, yet so much misery can befall those who attempt to do so. I suppose the rewards ARE intangible, personal, and can only be realized only by those equipped to do so. Wealth may not exactly be the source of all evil, but neither is it the ticket to happiness, as many a lottery winner has discovered to their dismay. The pursuit of happiness itself seems to be a vehicle for misery in and of itself, depending on what you decide the goal actually is, happiness-wise. It's all so relative. An African who hasn't lost half his children to work the farm that hasn't been destroyed by drought or marauding rebels might think himself extremely happy, while the hard charging executive making six figures might one day look in the mirror and ask himself if this was all there was.

There are guru's galore and books-a-million which tell us how to find God, happiness, or make lots of money in just minutes a day. So tell me, was every thing we were taught growing up totally irrelevant? Our parents, our community, our government was supposed to have instilled in us the rules of engagement, yet pay attention to any mass of humanity you find yourself in the middle of and it's quite apparent that you aren't in Kansas anymore. Look in the rear view mirror at the idiot riding 2 inches off your rear bumper and tell me where in driving school he learned THAT brilliant maneuver. Observe as kids run around out of control while their parents ignore them while shopping, and try not to think of forced sterilization. I just don't know what happened to the world while everything was supposedly getting better. Better how, exactly?

So here I am, sitting here writing these observations, and you'd have to think. "Ah, here's Mr Superiority, sitting in his own goody-goody highchair telling us how bad we all are, probably upset that he hasn't been awarded his own Nobel Peace Prize for being above it all." I wish. I wish I there weren't people out there who are reading this and agreeing with most of it, because they know it's true. I wish there wasn't some intangible line hidden somewhere between the good guys and the bad guys that we seem to have lost track of. I wish I myself truly knew what happiness was and how to somehow be able to say these things and not be thought of as naive for doing so, if not downright deluded. Well, since I am NOT the sophisticated, highly intelligent, world renowned columnist that was licensed to make such proclamations, the most I can suggest is that all this is nothing more than humble opinion that will carry little weight in our collective arguments. But they are mine. I am comfortable with them. They keep me warm.

Which brings me to global warming.........

Just kidding.........:)

Passion Fruit, Overipe

2006-06-14T22:27:00.000-04:00

My passion for anything of late has been sadly lacking. I do not know if this is a consequence of age, circumstance, the constant stress I find myself under, or the low normal testosterone levels my DO has accused me of having, but it sucks all the same. I vaguely remember the fire that burned within me concerning matters of love, lust, adventure, whatever strange trip I undertook at those given times, yet the effect such emotions had upon my pulse rate are but a distant memory to me now. Perhaps my master control center has accepted some sense of resignation and has adjusted my brain chemistry accordingly in order to preserve my sanity. Perhaps that is a good thing. I am certainly in no position to suddenly find myself in the grip of some wanderlust, some post-midlife crisis that can only be sated by abandoning my sinking ship and swimming with the mermaids, for in that direction lurks pain for one other if not just myself when the inevitable falling down comes to claim me and smite me for my foolishness. Ahhhh....but one can craft such fine daydreams from such longing, can one not?

I have not read a good book in awhile. But thanks to Netflix, an affordable alternative to cable or satellite when you can't fit that monthly ransom in the budget, I do get to enjoy an occasional happy ending to ease my unease at what the future holds for me in these last few decades of my performance this time around on planet Earth. I seriously need to consider whether or not giving up watching or listening to the news would be a wise move, considering that the ratio of good news to bad as so sadly out of kilter these days. They say that what you don't know can't hurt you, but I have always been a firm believer in knowing what to try and dodge and when, rather than risk getting blind-sided in ignorant bliss. However, it has become painfully apparent that knowing how terribly wrong things are going and being able to do anything about it are two completely different things, the former, being terribly good at, unfortunately has no bearing on the later, which I am not. So, why worry? Perhaps the people who were pulling the Gipper's strings were geniuses after all, getting what's his name to put out that snappy little tune, "Don't worry, be happy!"

The current crisis in national identify, the environment, consumerism, etc, are meaningless if in addition to all that, it's just window dressing on the surprise ending starring the killer asteroid which has our name on it. So, knowing that entire ecosystems and most of the creatures that inhabited them have come and gone with fair regularity over the course of geologic history, perhaps it is pointless to worry over the ultimate fate of the current residents. Perhaps it is pointless to worry what effect energy prices will have on interest rates. Perhaps it is pointless to worry whether or not American Idol will be subcontracted to run our next election. Perhaps it is pointless to worry whether or not The Michael made the slightest dent in the fabric of time, space, or the memories of those who stumbled across him while playing with the next button.

I have been equally silly to think that people I know, even my wife, have given weight to the idea of keeping up with my thought processes by reading my blog. It is strange that the people closest to you are the ones least likely to go out of their way to see what you are up to out here in blogville. Perhaps that is why we ARE out here, because we know that those who do read us are not tainted by any vested interest in doing so. Does that make sense? It does to me, though I'm not sure why. And when I do become somewhat used to visiting with any particular blogger, much like expecting that sunday paper to be there on the doorstep, and then it's not, it's similar to being jilted by some lover who you think has suddenly tired of you. There are withdrawal symptoms, and you hate yourself for projecting onto these more or less complete strangers some need you don't even recognize in yourself, much less admit to. So you take a deep breath, get your bearings, and realize that blogging is as fluid a state of relationship as any you have with flesh and blood people that you interact with on a daily basis. They have their own self-contained lives, that don't include you; they share a laugh, they shed some light, and then they move on, and you try and remember them, these wraiths you came to value so much, perhaps for no valid reason other than the smile they brought to your grey day when you needed it most.

Just thank Bob for them, and get back to the keyboard, for you just might be bringing a smile to someone just like you, for reasons only they could know, and that's a good enough thing when all is said and done.

Dances with Leaves

To Boldly Go........

BOO!

Metamorphosis

It's Mine, I tell ya, mine, mine, MINE!!!!!hahahahahhaha

Just in case you thought I couldn't post something positive........

Exile

Look, I had to post SOMEthing........

The Silicon Savior

The Effect of the Metaphoric Two-by-Four

Nuclear Annoyance......

In Defense of Us Cowardly Agnostics

State of Affairs

Crackerjacks and Crackpots

Parting is SUCH Sweet Sorrow.........

Brevity, Sweet Brevity (The Extended Version)

Writing on Trampolines

Gaia forgive us, for we know damn well what we do.........

A Sure-Fire Way to Gain Respect...........NOT!

"Another Saturday Night, and I ain't got no money........"

Paradise

WHY

When there's no room left for heroes..........

Blogging While Famous

Epic announcements and other such nonesense......

Sins..........Part IV

Mindflow

Assimilation Damnation

Sins..........Part III

My Life without Paper

The Storm that wasn't, and things that were.......

Blowjob Anyone?

Sins of the Fathers (Part II)

Sudden Impact

A break from reality; Sins of the Fathers (Part I)

Aftermath of Weird, and another Plug

Requiem for a Friend

Vigil

Thirteen Years

BAM!

Deal

When We Breathed, Breathed in the Air...........

Super-Sized Haku

Who else could bring you hoarse goats, finger follies, and Camelot all in one post?

Pure Living!

Wound Care of the Vanities

An Interview with THE Michael

Finger Sausage, Diamondbacks, and Double Demerol

Iced Tea and Karma

They're At It Again..........

In The News.......

Idolatry at it's finest

Surviving the "Dark Side"

"And miles to go before he sleeps......"

Pruning

La Dee Flippin' Da (An Undiscovered Country)

The Michael Gets All ECLECTIC Again

Manufactured Rockstars and Undiscovered Gems

Getting to know you, getting to know all about you..........

Post XXVXGGMIV

Super Heroes

The Continuing Saga of Recovery

Val Kilmer's Fat Face, Demerol, and the Fear of Death

Poor Man's Photoshop

Pinkies, Pain, Promises, and Politics

Yippe Ki-Yay, Mother&*(&^(&^(*%'s

Madness, Musings, and Mickey

Monsters

Birthdays, Birthdays, always another Birthday........

Damned if you do............

Please Stand By for an Historic Announcement!

Caught in the Middle

Death of a Tire

The War Tapes

Not sure about this.....

Testing a New Toy

Where there's New Bloom County, There's always Hope......

Just Another Soap Box Derby

Passion Fruit, Overipe

Yippe Ki-Yay, Mother&(&^(&^(%'s