Major shift for U.S. foreign policy!

WASHINGTON (Dada) - The United States, in a major policy shift toward Iran, said on Wednesday it would join key European powers in talks with Tehran if it suspended its nuclear enrichment program.

Secretary of State Condoleezza Rice, in the boldest admission of her shortcomings as chief diplomat of the Bush administration to date, said she would "ride along" with the leaders of Germany, France and Britain the next time they meet with Iranian President Mahmoud Ahmadinejad. Not as backseat driver, but just as backseat observer, she said.

Rice emphasized Iran should not view her presence as a threat. She has promised not to speak out independently of her three European allies. (It is still being discussed if--in an effort to keep Iranian apprehensions to a minimum--Rice will sit behind a one-way mirror in an adjoining room.)

"I will attend the meeting just to see how diplomacy is done," Rice promised. She expressed great excitement and hope of learning much from the Europeans and Iranians in the effective use of tact and persuasion to resolve diplomatic differences, not only with Iran but other nations judged to be belligerent to the Bush administration such as Syria, North Korea, Bolivia, Cuba, Venezuela, China, Russia, Indonesia, Micronesia, Polynesia, Zimbabwe, Louisiana, France, ad infinitum.

This may signal a major move of Rice away from her normal roughshod diplomacy methods of threating to "democratize" Iran by reducing it to a nation of post (nuclear) anihilation rubble like their now successfully liberated neighbor, Iraq.

Rice's statement could be seen as further easing of tensions between her president George Bush, and Iranian President Mahmoud Ahmadinejad, coming as it does just months after Rice backed an Iranian initiative to deny United Nations consultative status to organizations working to protect the rights of lesbian, gay, bisexual, and transgender people.

The announcement by the State Department of policy that may signal a major diplomatic shift suffered but one minor setback. That came when Rice momentarily relapsed by saying her attempts to learn diplomacy from the Europeans, however, should not be seen by the Iranians as indication of weakness or compromise by the US.

"As I learn to talk openly to others with whom I have issues, Iran should know they could still incur 'great costs' if it continues to pursue nuclear weapons, in which case I may have to forgo the difficult task of negotiation and resort to the easier diplomatic channels of my B-2 bombers!" Rice said.

Some viewers of more cynical persuasions see Rice's latest move as mere cotton candy. "All fluff, no substance," one remarked. "That way, when negotiations inevitably break down, as they are ultimately destined to do," he continued, "Rice will resort to her bombers, as she chides the international community, 'See, national interests are best served by the easier, less time consuming diplomacy of explosive devices dropped from 32,000 feet or launched safely from the decks of ships in the Gulf hundreds of miles away.'

"Just because I'm a highly educated black Christian woman, do not," as Rice had once warned in the lead-up to war with Iraq in 2002, "assume I have no balls! Oh, I have the balls, but even better," she assured, "I have the bombs, and balls with bombs is a very dangerous combination."

Simon says, "Thumbs up!" ... "Thumbs down!" "Ah, ah--No one said, 'Simon says' that time! You're out!"

Whew boy! Sadly, the weekend's ended. A new week begins. The hint of summer, just days away, has always lifted my spirits ever since those end-of-school, beginning-of-vacation inculcations of my youth. The approach of another June is no different. Well, save for my platter which presently has some pretty weighty stuff on it. Stuff that until digested, anchor down spirits otherwise itching to soar.

And so, with the end of our national weekend honoring the dead, it's back to those weighty issues of the living. From global to personal, they are many. But that was the beauty of three days with attentions distracted by memories of loved ones passed. Maybe some of us visited those flagged and flowered places that trigger the resurrections of loved ones, if only in our minds. Or maybe we gathered with friends. Or cooked out, or dined out. Or, maybe some just gave thanks.

Thanks is what I mostly gave the past three days. That's because a veterinary clinic visit was out of the question. It was a three day reprieve for the wife and I as "gods." And it was a three day reprieve for our dog, Po'. And that's where it's so damn hard playing gods. Because for all we know, Pony may have been wishing it was a shorter weekend these past three days. Or maybe she hoped it would never end.

Over the weekend I received a call from an old high school friend. He and his wife were debating what to do about their beautiful Lab' of nearly 14 years. Having cancer surgery a year ago worked well, but the debilitations of time are now taking their toll. My friend wanted to discuss a scheduled sonogram for their dog and having had two greyhounds who each had a sonogram, I suppose I could speak to that. I told him, in the case of our two, the sonograms did little to "conclude" anything, i.e., both of them died eventually anyway.

But grappling with our own dog's problems, he and I commiserated for each other's ailing animal and the roles which we now share. We were one shy of a Conference Call of Gods. I expect we'll each know more as the day unfolds.

As I went into the predawn garage this morning, I glanced out on the patio where Pony, my old editor, chose to move several weeks ago after the association of her pain with the house became just too strong for her to spend much time inside anymore. She spends her nights on what has become her chaise lounge.

Lying in the darkness with a soft breeze raking across her, I knelt to say "Good morning!" To stroke her ears, rub her belly and kiss that old, now whitened head of hers. She responded in kind by reaching out and holding my arm as she always has.

Moments later in the kitchen, I turned to see Pony coming through the doggie door. Turning, she immediately went into the computer room! This is where she used to sleep. On a loveseat adjacent to the computer, she spent the past year establishing this blog, serving as my editor. And now, to my surprise and delight, she was back after several weeks absence! After that, there was no way this could be Pony's last day on Earth.

But my elation soon faded. Old Po's discomfort wouldn't allow her to stay. She jumped down after a minute or two. But to her credit, she tried twice more to find her old spot on the loveseat in which she had spent hours of so many days, but that spot's no longer there. Pony just couldn't stay. Conceding, she returned to the patio in darkness, to her last comfortable place on Earth.

Pony's days are hell, marked by constant stress and inability to rest anywhere--even her chaise lounge. She staggers around in a valium haze, the promise of her latest medicine unable to break the pain or her addiction to what little pain relief the valium gives, which some days is little. Thankfully, Pony's nights are better. We think it's because her days exhaust her so from all the discomforts and stress. Maybe today will be Pony's last day?

Remembering....

Another Memorial Day and I muse at the parade of those incredibly peaceful cemetery names across the land. It's too bad in life we can't aspire to the serenity we embrace in death in places like Skyline Memorial Gardens, Forest Lawn, Oak Grove, Rose Hill, Evergreen, Memory Gardens, Pierce Brothers Cemetery.

Whoa! Pierce Brothers? That always sounded more like the Flying A station on the corner of 10th and Main downtown than a place of eternal slumbers. But Pierce Brothers it was in my hometown.

This weekend I recall a Memorial Day of many, many years ago where the sacred, set-aside sections of Earth of every little community and town sprout multi-colored bouquets under the stars in fields of blue amid neatly mown grass and clover lawns of verdant greens. Pierce Brothers was no exception.

The significance of Memorial Day was lost on me. I didn't know anyone 'neath those flowers and flags. Yet every year this happened.

Oh sure, there were the two grandmothers and grandfathers who died before I was born. I never knew any of them. And as absent as they had been in my life, they were almost equally aloof in their deaths, buried seven states and 2,000 miles away. They were nothing more to me than a glistening in my mother's or father's eyes whenever they'd remember them.

I was a stranger to death and those who represented it to most of us, the living, were nothing more than those floral arrangements and little flags that suddenly sprang up every Memorial Day down at old Pierce Brothers.

But to my parents the day held more meaning. And so, when my mom announced that she and dad were going to take a drive through the local cemetery to see the graves, would I "like to go along?" I declined. We were new in the area. There was no one there I knew.

That's when inspiration hit me. Plucking a handkerchief from my bedroom dresser, I headed out to my bike, announcing I was going to go for a ride instead. I wished them a pleasant drive.

Arriving at the cemetery a few minutes before my folks, I picked out a grave near the the narrow lane that wound among the eternal slumberers. Borrowing a single rose from the bouquet atop it, I began working myself into the proper mindset. Trying to evoke tears, I imagined I was over the grave of Gina Lollobrigida, or Sophia Loren. For more tears, I imagined both beneath me.

It wasn't long before I spotted our black and yellow '57 Ford slowly winding along the lane toward me. Never once glancing in their direction, but with hanky deployed, I dropped to my knees as I placed the lone rose atop the grave in my best display of grief for the departed, Gina and Sophia. Behind me I thought I heard my mother's voice as they passed. Through the open car window came the words, "That damn fool!"

My prank had succeeded beyond my greatest expectations. Once back home, my folks and I would laugh about it. And every Memorial Day with my folks thereafter, I would hear my mom recount that one in particular to friends and family.

And now, many years later,I am no longer a stranger to death as in my youth. Mom and Dad are no longer here. Having passed almost 20 years ago now, they slumber eternally. No, they didn't end up in the Pierce Brothers place. They went to a place called Fir Lawn.

But just like Pierce Brothers and every other cemetery in the country this day, the flowers and flags are in full bloom. And while Fir Lawn is four or five states and almost two thousand miles away, there occasionally occurs a Memorial Day when, amid the colors of tributes of sadness, a shadow is cast across their graves. It's the shadow of their son with hanky in hand, a rose in the other. "That damn fool!"

Today's Quotes

"I dream of giving birth to a child who will ask, 'Mother, what was war?' " ~ Eve Merriam

"I dream of giving birth to a child who will ask, 'Mother, what was war?,' except, sadly, I'm not a woman. And if I were, I'd be menopausal. But even if I weren't, oh hell, never mind...." ~ Dada

******************

"A new Northern Command, established in Colorado in 2001 to monitor Americans, now employs more intelligence analysts than does the Homeland Security Department." ~ Jim Hightower

Which only illustrates the old saying, "We have met the enemy and he is us." Pogo

~or~

"Maybe we're not the enemy. Maybe our paranoid, narcissistic executive branch psychopathic bastards are our enemy." ~ Dada

Oh sweet ironies!

For those of us who love good irony, these are some of the most glorious days for it. There's not a day goes by without at least several gleaming examples.

Today's first comes from West Point's Michie Stadium where president Bush presided over the US Military Academy's 2006 graduation ceremony. And therein lies sweet irony. Because these young cadets awarded their officer's bars today, many of whom will make careers of the military, some rising to the ranks of generals thus becoming the leaders of tomorrow's army, received their diplomas from one who went AWOL from his own military duty. Not as member of an active duty wartime unit, but as a deserter from a champagne unit of the Texas Air National Guard.

Which only serves to remind us of another sweet irony. Of how a deserter of a champagne national guard unit can one day rise up and become commander-in-chief of the very military whose duty he didn't have the tenacity to complete himself, but who now has the authority to command men and women, like today's graduates, to their deaths.

America truly is the land of opportunity. And irony.

Quote of the day from a dear friend of mine

"One man's trash (George Bush's constitution)
is another man's treasure (America's constitution)"

~ Dada

Surfing the web, I stubbed my toe.

One of the newer international symbols comes to us today from Impeach The Mother Fucker Already, a website where you can download a large version of this to share with friends, enemies and your government representatives. (Sorry, those last two are redundant, I know.)

If you happen over to Impeach The Mother Fucker Already, be sure to scroll down the page a bit for the latest red state, blue state map of the US.

If you base a state's color on whether it approves or disapproves of Bush's performance, the map reflects an incredibly blue nation with only three red states remaining.

I won't divulge them here, other than to give you a clue that, for geo-political expediency, they're all adjacent to one another. Sadly, however, without an outlet to the open seas of the Atlantic, Gulf, or Pacific. Hence, if these three states were to secede from the union and then try to gain access to a port, the blue state's union would have to go to war against 'em and crush these bastards. (I know, war, war, war, what is it good for?)

Of course we know this is all just wishful thinking, this 'blue state America' map, because in reality people opposed to Bush don't vote. That's because they've been expunged from the voting rolls for being black, brown, or because they have a record, or they have the same name (or initials) as a person who has a record, or they are a registered member of the opposition party, in which case a Diebold machine will vote for them.

Or, or in the case of Ohio, the voting process for the opponents of those in control is just too inconvenient in heavily opposed precincts. That's because the lines are so long it takes hours and hours just to get to one of the all too scarce Diebold voting machines. As a result, employers dock folk's pay for taking the whole freakin' day off just to vote. As a result, many decide to just "fuck democracy" and take in a movie instead, or go bowling.

But a Blue State America map is something that might make you smile for a quantum second. If not, take a second look. If it still doesn't make you smile, you're probably one of those 3 in 10 remaining who think Bush is doing a helluva fantastic job. Or, you may be living in one of those red states.

Making a life in the shade of the wreck that is now America

I'd love to take credit for the today's blog title but it's a paraphrase of Arundhati Roy's, "they fashion a childhood for themselves in the shade of the wreck that is their family." It's from her novel, "The God of Small Things."

But I couldn't help feel we're doing our best, all of us, making lives in the shade of this wreck as I glance around the veterinary clinic's waiting room. My wife remarks softly how there's nothing sadder than the sound of a sick cat. I nod. She says it so its owner can't hear her over kitty's mornful, human-like cries coming from inside a carrying cage.

Our greyhound Pony, depressingly ill for days at home, now stands as erect, alert and as far from us as the taut leash we've given her will allow. She's cured! Or so she would have us believe.

Of the four dogs we've had, Pony's the only one who loves coming to vet's. Despite knowing the pain and discomforts the vet is capable of dispensing.

It's moments like these that remind us why we picked ol Po' out of the herd the first time we saw her. Extremely amiable, aloof, quirky and very 'kick ass'. These were characteristics we detected she possessed--if she felt like it. And then there was the mysterious piece of missing ear she'd left somewhere in Arizona.

A small dog appears at the check-in counter and suddenly Pony is now a doberman. She's barking with ferocity. Back at the house, as a greyhound, Pony's a mute. She doesn't know how to bark. But here with a dog one one fifth her size, Pony becomes 'kick-ass'. Moments later a tech appears and takes Po' back for X-rays.

As we wait, a young woman comes in and sits across from us. Her pup, an eager learner, already hates this place. He sits at her feet. I watch as he gets up, moves closer, and resits. He's leaning against her now. We remark something of his cuteness. She responds disinterested.

Not taking her hint, we ask what kind of dog he is. She says with less indifference he's an old English bulldog. We hate bulldogs, but without the horrific bulldog underbite, he's able to close his mouth without teeth showing. He even breathes without sounding like a dying asthmatic. His expressions are almost human. We like this little guy.

We learn he belongs to this woman's 11 year old daughter. She explains he's extra edgy, having missed his breakfast. Knowing that fasting is often a prelude to some kind of invasive procedure, we ask, and learn today he's getting fixed. I say something like, "When he awakens, he'll be missing more than his breakfast."

By now the woman has become quite affable. It seems like we've known her more than five minutes. Maybe more like ten or fifteen, when suddenly she sobers the three of us up with the news that later this summer her husband's going to Iraq. It'll be his second tour.

My wife says she is so sorry. The pretty young woman says she is too. And then she and her dog are gone, the dog to lose his testicles, the young woman to lose her husband. We hope the the latter returns.

Just another day in the shade of the wreck.

If you're going to be sick, please quickly turn the other way!

And now a word from Mr. Ken Lay on the steps outside the courthouse where he had just been convicted.

I firmly believe I’m innocent of the charges against me, as I have said from day one. I still firmly believe that as of this day. But despite what happened today, I am still a very blessed man. I have, on my left, this beautiful lady that's my wife. I have a very warm and loving and Christian family that supports me, a lot of friends, including some out there in the audience right now. And most of all, we believe that God, in fact, is in control, and indeed He does work all things for good for those who love the Lord. And we love our Lord, and ultimately all of these things will work for good.

Boy, that's rich! Here's a bastard who's destroyed thousands of lives and extorted billions of Californian consumer's dollars by phony manipulation of energy prices and what's the first thing he does after his conviction? Jumps in bed with his god. I would dearly love to see these two mob bosses do hard time for a long, long time. But I'm not jumpin' up and down til their bar doors have been slammed shut and locked down.

"a situation of the needy versus the greedy"

In my e-mail this morning was a link from Nona over at Fish Wars to an effort by a small group of celebrity activists, including Joan Baez, trying desperately to save a 14 acre community farm in urban South Central L.A.

They were invited there by Julia Butterfly Hill. She's the one who climbed up a giant redwood in northern California a few years back in an effort to save that tree and a small grove around it from the logging industry. Naming the tree "Luna," it was over two years before Julia's feet touched the Earth again!

But I was a little freaked out at the synchronicity of this morning's e-mail from Nona, as I explained when I wrote her back, to wit:

Nona:

Thank you for the Hill--Baez link. What an incredible 'synchronicity'? Not 15 minutes ago I awoke from the night. And lying there, remembering I'm probably still in the same Universe this morning that I went to sleep in last night, I took a minute to reflect on someone for whom I hold the deepest of admiration and reverence. I'm talking about Julia Butterfly Hill! I know you know how in awe I am of someone who will climb up a tree and not come down for two years, so strong her belief in a cause. I wondered what she has been doing lately, for I knew that whatever it was, she would be putting forth an effort for something worthwhile. And just so you know, I never wake up thinking of Julia Butterfly. Never! But I did this morning.

After putting together a pot of coffee, I ambled into the computer room--and there was the answer to the question I'd asked just moments earlier! Thank you, Nona.

And so, putting my Jungian "scarab beetle moment" aside, I followed Nona's link to the story. In short, it told of Julia Butterfly Hill and the cause she's taken up on behalf of people trying desperately to save, what is for them, a very important piece of property. What it entails is a 14 acre plot of land that approximately 450 "squatters" farm in urban Los Angeles. They grow food crops on it. The current owner, a man named Horowitz, rebought the land from the city of Los Angeles (details of that in link below) in 2003 for $5 million. He's now asking $16.3 million.

Dada's not sure that Horowitz's more than tripling his investment in three years was a wise business decision. Seems to me he should ask a lot more for those 14 acres, particularly in light of the fact he's dispossessing over 450 folks working that land as aid in their survival. (Okay, so I was being sarcastic, forgive.)

So far the effort to raise the owner's asking price to buy the land for these farmers has stalled at a little over $6 million dollars! That's when Julia Butterfly Hill put in a call for any celebrities interested in raising awareness of the effort to save this little urban farm.

Just imagine if Horowitz were to sell his land to the "squatters" for the $6.3 million they've raised. He'd make over 20% profit in the three short years he's owned it. Something in today's economy most any of us peanuts investors would be more than satisfied with. But no, Horowitz isn't satisfied with a reasonable return on his money. He wants to turn a three year, 226% profit on his investment!

Now that's good business. Dispossessing hundreds of people from their livelihoods while tripling your money! Imagine another Universe, maybe just one or two over from ours where a Horowitz would take the money raised by these people, realize a 20%+ gain on his monies and let the people keep their land. But that only happens in some other Universe(s), not here, not in ours.

In the words of Daryl Hannah who answered Butterfly's call and is currently camping on the land in a tent to bring attention to this said, it's truly "a situation of the needy versus the greedy." And that's the Universe we inhabit!

Thanks Nona for answering my waking question of what Julia Butterfly Hill is up to these days. And thank you, Julia, for rallying the celebs like Baez and Hannah to bring attention to the people's plight. And a *special* thank you to a man named Horowitz who shows us all what kind of money can be made if you have huge sums of money to invest to make your piles even huger. I'm sure in a Universe just one or two over from ours, this kind of business never crosses one's mind.

For the whole story, see the L.A. Times, "Celebrities Crop Up at Farm Protest"

High school, schmy school.

Photo by eljoven

We are made of time.

We are its feet and its voice.

The feet of time walk in our shoes.

Sooner or later, we all know, the winds of time will erase the tracks.

Passage of nothing, steps of no one? The voices of time tell of the voyage.

~Eduardo Galeano

Next month marks the 45th year since I last walked the breezeways, sat in one of the many alcoves, or listened to the water splashing in the fountain of the upper courtyard beneath the belless bell tower of my old high school. As high schools go, it was one of the grandest. And God, how I hated my four years there.

This is a picture inside of those hallowed breezeways exactly as they appeared 45 years ago. But the picture was taken just Sunday before last. Mother's Day Sunday. And from the photo I can attest the old high school's still one of the grandest.

This photo was sent to me by an old classmate who took a side trip, and pictures, on his way to celebrate Mother's Day with his mom who now lives in another, larger, city nearby.

I was yanked from a much larger school in the Los Angeles basin to attend this small town high school. And I felt so removed from it all, I detested leaving the friends from my academic early years. As a result, I never felt assimilated into this scene. I regret that now. It was four long years of my life that could have been much shorter and happier if I had.

American orthotics

ORANGE HEAD IMMOBILIZER
Fits all standard trauma boards, scoop stretchers,
and recliners near TV news channels

I don't know if there's enough cartilege left between the vertabrae to last me two and 1/2 more years, judging from my increasing pain in the neck. It comes from shaking my head whenever I hear the president admonishing others for not being more like us! (Let's hold on to our caps and straps kiddies. Bronco Bush rides again!)

Bush Warns of “Erosion of Democracy” in Venezuela & Bolivia

President Bush warned Monday that Venezuela and Bolivia are suffering from what he described as an “erosion of democracy.”

Bush’s comments come a week after the U.S. cut off military sales to Venezuela and three weeks after Bolivia announced it would nationalize its natural gas resources.

Bush said he had a message for Venezuela, Bolivia and other nations in the hemisphere.

President Bush: I am going to continue to remind our hemisphere that respect for property rights and human rights is essential for all countries in order for there to be prosperity and peace. I'm going to remind our allies and friends in the neighborhood that the United States of America stands for justice; that when we see poverty, we care about it and we do something about it; that we care for good -- we stand for good health care. I'm going to remind our people that meddling in other elections is -- to achieve a short-term objective is not in the interests of the neighborhood.”

The most common thought I'm having while losing my cartilege goes something like, "Where does he get this shit?" followed by a close second, "What idiots believe this shit?"

Maybe Bush's admonition to emerging nations like Venezuela and its president, Hugo Chavez, are simply Bush lashing out in envy. I mean, Chavez has mucho oil, Bush has none. Or maybe it's because Chavez accomplished something Bush has yet to do. Be elected by the people in an honest election. Or, or...maybe Bush is just upset because Chavez clings to some archaic idea that the oil beneath Venezuelan's feet should belong to Venezuelans and not the United States of America! (Yeh, I know, that's really demented thinking there.)

Inevitably I conclude the president, his followers, his congress that supports him, and the media that believe this shit, who report this bullshit straight-faced without question have their heads in very dark places indeed. But that's not the area or orifice I want to talk about today. I'm more concerned about the other end of the spinal cord that begins at the cranium. Of possible orthopedic devices that may save the nation much pain.

A few years ago, I would have thought the easiest solution to easing our pain and increasing our comfort zone was to simply analyze our president's defects (which was done) and discard him for a new one. Obviously analyses abounded, but were disregarded as evidenced by the November '04 "landslide" reaffirming the nation's commitment to insanity.

But maybe we could all be spared placing our heads in braces to save our necks if Bush just got out more.

I mean with the real people. Appearing before approving oddiences that have been carefully pre-screened by the FBI, NSA, or whatever doesn't give him a real sense of the pain we're in out here. Motorcading past citizens with major pain in their necks, demonstrating their anger in "free speech zones" several miles removed from his motorcade route, doesn't either. We all know how it works here.

But take a listen to what it was like for poor ol' Bush on a recent visit to India, trying to find the right people, just any people that he might speak before. Here's how our president communed with the people of the world's largest "democracy" according to Arundhati Roy on yesterday's "Democracy Now".

Well, the strange thing was that before he came, they wanted him to address a joint house of Parliament, but some members of Parliament said that they would heckle him and that it would be embarrassing for him to come there.

So then they thought they would ask him to address a public meeting at the Red Fort, which is in Old Delhi, which is where the Prime Minister of India always gives his independence day speech from, but that was considered unsafe, because Old Delhi is full of Muslims, and you know how they think of all Muslims as terrorists.

So then they thought, “Okay, we’ll do it in Vigyan Bhawan, which is a sort of state auditorium, but that was considered too much of a comedown for the U.S. President.

So funnily enough, they eventually settled on him speaking in Purana Qila, which is the Old Fort, which houses the Delhi zoo. And it was really from there that -- and, of course, it wasn't a public meeting. It was the caged animals and some caged CEOs that he addressed.

And then he went to Hyderabad, and I think he met a buffalo there, some special kind of buffalo, because there is a picture of Bush and the buffalo in all the papers.*

Actually this would be rather humorous if it wasn't indicative that Bush doesn't limit himself to just giving Americans a pain in the neck. Enter the "Orange Head Immobilizer."

Obviously the nation can't afford to supply each and every American suffering from this pain in the neck with an "Orange Head Immobilizer." The nation, since being bankrupted, can't afford that. Besides with 45 million Americans uninsured and that number growing, Bush just isn't into healthcare for Americans like other nations such as Chavez is for his fellow Venezuelans.

But there's a simpler and much cheaper solution. That's what I'd like to suggest here. See, we need only buy one "Orange Head Immobilizer." That's because there's a simple attachment that can be placed on the "Orange Head Immobilizer." It's a polyethelene mandible support that can be attached. Adjustable to an individual patient's unique jawline, it can be set to render the jaw immobile.

I suggest all of we Americans suffering from this major pain in the neck, chip in a purchase an "Orange Head Immobilizer" with the polyethelene mandible support attachment set in the immobile position for president Bush.

"Voila!" Instant relief for millions of American's suffering from Bush induced neck traumas.

In a future blog, maybe we can discuss resolving American's collective pain in the ass!

* Attribution: Arundhati Roy

Angry note written during my own gutting.

"Palacio," Edward Hopper

Day in, day out, the lettuce and strawberries get picked. Workers build the homes that will shelter our families. Some, with mops, spread boiling tar and hammer down shingles on our roofs in 100+ degree heat. Others in slaughterhouses, where as many as two-thirds of the workers are illegal immigrants, work long, hard shifts dismembering animals speeding by at rates up to 309 per hour. Animals that are supposed to be dead but often aren't that moan and watch with open eyes as they are disemboweled on their way to becoming McDonald's cheeseburgers or a Pilgrim's Pride.

All of these workers, because they are here illegally, are subject to varying degrees of exploitation. We all know that, but that's not our focus of concern. They're here and, because they are, many of us wish they weren't, despite the benefits we the consumers and they--their employers--reap as a result of their worker exploitations.

But that's not what I want to talk about in today's somewhat incohesive and dismembered thoughts. No, however, like those cows, pigs and chickens dangling in some slaughterhouse production line that aren't quite dead but, with eyes open, are watching what's "going down," I softly moan at the fate of myself and my fellow pigs and chickens.

And so it is that I'd like to share the success story of just one immigrant family. They came here two generations ago. And whether they came here legally or not is a fact one of their grandchildren is either intentionally vague about because maybe they did so illegally, or he's just honestly unaware. But this couple managed to stay here and raise a family. And quite successfully, because that one particular grandson with the vague answer to the question of his grandparent's immigrant status became a lawyer, rising to the highest office in the land charged with overseeing the administration of our nation's laws.

Those would be laws that now permit torture, and the override of due process, laws that permit invasions of our constitutionally quaranteed right to invasionless privacy now being blatantly invaded, and the interpretation of laws so as to grant our president and his co-conspirators exemption from charges of international war crimes-- all the result of his perverted interpretations of said law. I'm talking about our Attorney General, Alberto Gonzales.

Perhaps it is the the desire of former outsiders of the American Dream who are so eager to participate in that dream they willingly cast aside the dreams of their ancestors. Dreams of becoming participants in the grand American experiment, even if it means the gutting and messy slaughter of Liberté as she dangles upside down on a factory sausage assembly line.

Maybe that's why Gonzales so willingly forsakes the dreams of his forebears, his gentle abuelos, just as our former secretary of state Colin Powell or his successor, our current Chevron Oil Tanker secretary of state Rice, foresaked the dreams of theirs, so anxious were they to be white and American and terrorize those of the world of color who were neither.

And this is where I lost it watching MSNBC's "Countdown" with Keith Olbermann last night. Because while we're all zeroed in on the heated issue of immigrants here illegally, the grandson of immigrants, here either legally or otherwise, is now in a position to dismember and gut the nation his grandparents chose to so lovingly embrace, to grow their future in, to raise a family. And in watching the Olbermann story about attorney general Gonzales going to imprison journalists who publicize government leakers, I madly scribbled the following. (Pardon if it may be incoherent, but I include it here as written as I moaned softly while witnessing my own gutting.)

"We're worried about Mexican aliens here illegally in this country picking our lettuce and working in the slaughterhouses of Nebraska when our attorney general doesn't even know of the legality of the conditions his own grandparents came to this country under as he how stands at the podium explaining to reporters how he's dismantling our Constitution by jeopardizing their rights to write freely. FASCISTS!

The weak Fourth Estate is the last resort of cks. & balances our congress no longer cares to uphold."

And I get the eerie feeling, despite our low moans, we're all, each of us with eyes open, still conscious and dangling upside down on the production line, being disemboweled, on our way to becoming dead meat; on our way to becoming McDonald's cheeseburgers or a Pilgrim's Pride.

Clinton did it!

Okay, in my effort to begin a kinder, gentler blog in the hopes of casting my rare quality of positivity into the world from this little corner as aid to *begin the healing--feel the love*, I'm going to have to plead for another day. I need an extension.

Reason? Well, part of my morning routine when possible, is to make the rounds of a small number of blogs I enjoy. Thankfully, Bartcop's insatiable love for Hillary Clinton has allowed me to free up more time to do this.

But as I was reading several of the comments of a particularly annoying gnatty neocon on a blog I frequent, I felt compelled to jump in and respond.

You know the type, supporter of his president because "he has spine" while faulting Clinton (who only "has a boner") for all our problems. The type guy who doesn't mind being spied on if it keeps the terrorists from beneath his bed each night. Or who blames Clinton's NAFTA for all the jobs lost, while admitting it was actually Pappy Bush who signed it into law.

You know, the guy who heaps the source of all our woes on poor old Clinton, the best republican president this country's ever had. He's the type guy badly in need of being jerked into the future--to now--but who remains stuck in and blinded by the past.

Anyway, I spent most of my blogging time reading other blogs and responding to this one commenter just described. After posting my comment in retort to his, I discovered--while I'd been typing mine up--the gnatty neocon's overnight remarks had been chopped. Vanished! And in all honesty, I couldn't blame the blog's host for exercising his perogative on that tripe. I'd probably do the same.

But having vented, I was spent. So today's blog will consist of the comments I made elsewhere. This being an election year, it contains many of the elements I continually harp on here. But I keep this creeping sense they will become this election year's major issues. (And if they look familiar and sound stale, what can I say? The passions of suckers must be fed.)

If you drop by here occasionally, don't bother reading further. STOP HERE! As Madison Avenue reminds us, go nuke your kids a hot breakfast from frozen pancakes because--as hectic as our lives are--you refuse to serve your family a cold breakfast. (grin)

***************
My response to someone called "Free Speecher":

...no use arguing with Free Speecher. It's all Clinton's fault--as s/he tells us in one of his/her plentiful comments, he is still fixated on Clinton's 'boner'. This is a common ruse among a certain segment of the Bush reality denial delusionists. They just can't move beyond that blue stained dress.

Now Free Speecher's government has him so afraid of global terrorists, he's willing to shred his own Bill of Rights as his gift to our government's own domestic terrorism, committed in the name of *making us safer*. Hey, it works for Free Speecher.

Free Speecher is the exact archetype Hermann Goering was describing when he said, "it is always a simple matter to drag the people along...the people can always be brought to the bidding of the leaders...all you have to do is TELL THEM THEY ARE BEING ATTACKED, and denounce the peacemakers for lack of patriotism and exposing the country to danger. IT WORKS THE SAME IN ANY COUNTRY." It's obvious Free Speecher's blind allegiance to the neo-fascists shows that hackneyed tactic works as well today as ever.

And Never mind that the nation has been irreparably bankrupted beyond repair by his "president with a backbone." Fuck our kids and their kids. It probably won't matter because our hubris will make the world a safer place to live, even if we have to nuke it to fuckdom come. So there may not even be a world for the grandkids.

And then there's always global warming, of course, which the revolving DC doors with the oil industry people (like Bush, Cheney, Rice) dictate to the nation is just so much liberal bullshit.

But not to worry, this election will focus on Free Speecher's *really important issues*. Already senators H. Clinton (dem.) and Bob Bennett (rep.) have introduced an anti-flag burning amendment. (Congress estimates as many as seven freakin' flags are burned in the US each year--OMG!--the outrage!!, not counting the thousands laid to rest by burning by the Boy Scouts annually, leaving one to wonder how many of those anti-American traitorous flag burning bastards were former Boy Scouts, now with an addiction to matches as avenues to protest? ~grin)

The anti-gay marriage amendment was heralded by senator Arlen Specter just last week in senate committee. (What a wonderful legacy for Specter. I'm sure he must be proud, displaying his homophobia so publicly. Seriously, this is a passionate issue supported by many of congress's homophobe constituents who live in fear of gays and lesbians having the same rights as the rest of us.) Always love it when the freedom guaranteeing Constitution has to be cropped by these gov't bastards praying on the homophobe's fears of gays marrying or patriots demonstrating because they have the audacity to question their government!

And then there's always those hot *prayer in schools* and the *ten commandments in the local courthouse* bullshit issues. Or how about sex education (that's easy, just abstain while Madison Ave. makes our younger and younger daughters look more and more mature, enticing and slutty as possible), abortion (a non-issue with everyone's wombs sewn shut or penises shielded neath petroleum based latex...leaving one to ponder how different the world could be today had Pappy Bush just worn one of those the night Georgie was conceived).

And finally, of course, we can always drag out the NRA's perrenial fear of our right to bear arms being trimmed from their Bill of Rights, exposing yet another irony of "it's okay to delete the rights of gays, flag burners, atheists, family planners, etc., but you'd better keep your fuckin' hands off MINE and my guns."

Yes, another election with the same pissant red-herring issues like family planning and flag burning, the real cornerstone questions of whether America can survive its bankruptcy (fiscal and moral) and terrorism (from without and within) while global warming kills us all. Obviously, as Free Speecher reminds, "It's all Clinton's fault."

The Sport of Kings!

Oh the fairgrounds were crowded, and Stewball was there

But the betting was heavy on the bay and the mare

As they were approaching, about half way around

The gray mare she stumbled and fell to the ground

And away out yonder, ahead of them all

Came a-prancing and a-dancing, my noble Stewball

~lyrics to Stewball

In the 70's, my wife and I accompanied my brother to the race track. He had a great love for 'playing the ponies'. It was a love I didn't particularly share, but to enjoy some quality time with my brother in an activity he dearly loved, we went along. It was a beautiful afternoon.

In the seventh race at Hollywood Park that day, I placed a $2.00-to-win bet on a 12-1 beauty named Baghdad lady. And as they rounded the last turn into the home stretch, there she was, comfortably out front leading the pack. The excitement of the announcer's voice grew as the horses approached the finish line, but then a strange thing happened. "Baghdad Lady"--leader of the field--never got another call. Nary a mention. How could that be for one who was so in command of that race?

The reason soon became obvious to all of us. As the horses crossed the finish line, as we glanced down to the home stretch in front of our grandstand, wondering what had become of our bet, we saw her. There, with leg in pieces and dangling was the most horrific sight. Baghdad Lady had suffered a thoroughbred's worst fear. She had "broken down" as they say.

That was the last time my wife and I attended the horse races. And that was the day beautiful Baghdad Lady, a strong and vibrant creature, bred for speed atop the spindliest of legs, died. We learned this in a brief mention in the following day's Sports Page.

Magnificent creatures behind white fences stretching for miles around green pastures. It's a beautiful image for what is just another industry. My apologies if I offend anyone who is a fan of this "sport" but my sensibilities for these magnificent beasts bred to serve our amusements, is too weak to withstand what the "Sport of Kings" demands.

And so yesterday's Preakness made a fine stallion, Kentucky Derby winner and favorite to win again, my latest Baghdad Lady. Oh, Barbaro's not dead yet, but his outlook is very grim. We didn't watch the race, but I did read what happened in its aftermath. And I couldn't help but feel outrage at the reactions of the stunned crowd or the industry they support.

As an AP story said, "there wasn't much enthusiasm for the finish, especially with many of the fans in tears." Such is the nature of this sport of these 'kings'. I can't help but wonder if the outcome of yesterday's race made any fans into anti-racing advocates like my wife and I?

American heroes, a tribute to our lesser gods.

(News from the parallel Universe just to the right of this one, or how The National Rifle Association saluted America's demigod #37, General Tommy Franks, ret., aka "The Man with the Plan.")

General Tommy Franks was honored Saturday night at the NRA's annual banquet in Milwaukee. It is Franks ingenious plan for the invasion, triumph, and most profitable occupation of Iraq which America is now executing with a success no one thought possible. We know it's successful, because Don Rumsfeld tells us so. And the president agrees.

As Franks assured his audience and all families with members in the military, "What we're talking about is neither 2,400, 24,000 or 240,000 lives, Terrorism is a thing that threatens our way of life."

If we have to kill Iraqi insurgents fighting to save their country, to kill 800, a 1,000 or more of these men along with their women and children for every one "terrorist" we bag, it's a cost we and the Iraqis must pay, Franks seemed to be assuring the crowd with his 'fishing with hand grenades' analogy. I'm sure that's something every shotgun marksman in the NRA crowd responded to enthusiastically.

In the parallel Universe just to the right of ours, one could hear a few members still at the cash bar in the back of the room break into shouts of, "Let's go shoot us some traitors," and "Yeh, let's kill them peacenik commie bastards!"

As the shouts to shoot something died down, Franks reframed his support for his former leader, Don Rumsfeld, against all his fellow retired 'idiot' generals calling for the defense secretary's resignation. Calling him "grumpy" and "grouchy," Franks assured the crowd, "Don Rumsfeld is an American patriot."

(Dada note: In this alternate Universe just next to ours, honors such as a presidential Medal of Freedom are given--in president Bush's own words--as "our nation's highest civil award to men and women of exceptional merit, integrity and achievement." General Franks received his for his "pivotal role in great events, and whose efforts have made our country more secure and advanced the cause of human liberty."

In this Universe that translates as, "I'm giving you this chintzy $7.95 gold plated medal with red, white and blue ribbon as the cheapest and safest way to buy your silence."

The medal is presented in a public ceremony after the recipient has sworn in a secret pre-ceremony pledge to forever support and praise all members of the administration, to include Don Rumsfeld. No one has been known to violate their pledge, the consequences of which are rumored severe, but remain a closely guarded secret from the public.

Dada suggests those retired general's calls for their former commander, Don Rumsfeld, to step down are just 'sour grapes'. They're obviously pissed that they didn't get their own $7.95 presidential Medals of Freedom like Franks. But they should look at the bright side. They can speak their conscience in calling for Rumsfeld's resignation, which is something Franks can't, having sold that right for seven dollars and ninety-five cents.)

But as the crowd's fervor began to grow again, Franks concluded his 30 minute speech by reminding all, "We have to secure ourselves. We have to secure our Constitution!"

At that point the crowd adjourned to the field out back where a 50 foot bonfire topped with either the effigy of a terrorist or peace activist was ignited as passionate NRA'ers chipped parts off a large carved wooden replica of The Bill of Rights and tossed 'em into the flames in seeming confirmation of conservative judge Andrew Napolitano's assertion that when Americans are in fear, they will willingly sacrifice their rights on a bonfire or their vanities.

*Attribution: (Colin Fly, AP News)

Long arms, narrow focus.

(My apologies. Today's blog comes sans illustration. I'll explain why below.)

Dada would like to take a moment to recognize the "Congressperson with the Longest Arms." This year's desginee is:

Thelma Drake! Yes, Republican Representative Thelma Drake is this year's recipient of the prestigious "Congressperson with the Longest Arms" award.

When president Bush, galivanting round the nation trying to outrun the stench of his administration's own stink, made the generous gesture of stopping by for a reelection fund raiser luncheon for Rep. Thelma Drake of Va., he was disappointed to discover Ms. Drake had ditched the ado.

Claiming an important military appropriations bill as her excuse for shunning His Excellency, it appears what resulted was a Bush/Drake photo-op flop. But reaching out to Bush, Drake assured him she "absolutely embraces" the president, making her this year's, hands down--thumbs up, Longest Arms award recipient.

Sadly, there's just not a camera made with a wide-angle lens wide enough to catch the two of 'em in the same frame, embracing.

Cleaning house.

I was reading Bush is Certifiable last eve over on Information Clearing House. It's author, Paul Levy, who calls himself "healer...a spiritual and political activist," is into quoting Jung a lot. I've always enjoyed Jung because, as we all know...

fairy tales can come true
it can happen to you
if you're Jung at heart

Okay, sorry, it's just that it's early in the day and my mood is still playful from a good night's rest. But I digress.

Anyway, a couple of quotes from Levy's Bush is Certifiable to give you some flavor of its tenor:

"Though describing Hitler, Jung just as easily could have been describing Bush when he said that he had a 'conceit that bordered on madness, a very mediocre intelligence combined with the hysteric’s cunning and the power fantasies of an adolescent.' Bush is acting out the adolescent fantasies of a war of good versus evil with our living sons and daughters as his toy soldiers...

"Being inflated, Bush doesn’t relate to other human beings as being autonomous or independent, but as pawns to serve his own narcissistic blindness and masturbatory fantasies."

But what I really took away from Levy's treatise was Bush, as our agent on the global stage, is merely a reflection of what we, as a nation, have become.

Well, I recognize this blog as a repository for my revulsions at our nation as it manifests itself with increasing darkness and evil, but it's the same darkness and evil it purports to be challenging globally with every shard our leadership manages to chip from our Bill of Rights. And I'm aware that my daily rants here are little more than releasing steam to avoid an explosion.

But I've also suspected that does little towards solving our problem. Certainly the bile spewed here isn't healthy on a personal level. And that's kind of what I took from Levy's article. That in some perverse Jungian way, in fighting off my own darkside demons, I'm only enabling Bush to expropriate 'em, adding to his growing shadow-self of delusionary powers.

Certainly, if healing is to begin, one should probably begin at home, by getting healthier. Wow, who knows? It's so New Agey, but what if we all got out of this Bush funk we seem to operate under every day, week in, week out, month after month for the past five plus years? Maybe as healthier individuals, our communities would become healthier, and the wimpy penishead president's power (<--see, this isn't going to be easy!) will shrivel to impotence, crushing him under the weight of his own delusions?

Or maybe not. But at least a kinder me would manifest a healthier me and that may be the single most significant thing I can do to help us as a nation out of our malignant malaise.

I guess this thinking was inspired by a venture over to John Farr's FarrFeed site this morning Writing in "I Just Don't Get it Anymore," Farr says:

"I just turned on the little 13-inch Sony and watched 20 minutes of the Comedy Channel, namely the last half of the Daily Show and the first ten minutes of the Colbert Report, and none of it was funny in the least. These are hot items, these shows, right? What the hell is going on here? [rhetorical question]"

Farr explains how in our culture, without TV, America seems to have no culture. And as I read of some of the things he can see sans the boob tube, things like animals, "rainclouds, trees, and mountains" I sat in envy.

So, desirous of regaining the ability to see these things again, it is my hope to become a kinder, gentler blog. I'm sure it won't happen overnight, but if I consciously work at it, maybe in time I'll become healthier of mind and, in some minute way, the nation will too.

Update on my editor-in-chief

Just a short note regarding old Po', my missing editor. When I looked out on the patio just before 6:00 this morning, there was Pony on her chaise lounge. Sliding the glass door open I said, "Good morning, Po'!" As she turned to respond, she had one of her stabbing pains, immediately jumped down and ran to the fartherest corner of the backyard.

This was the first time I'd seen her have such a pain in her one remaining refuge, the backyard, and I figured this wasn't a good sign for the day to come. It wasn't. The last remaining spot Pony had for painless sleep, her patio chaise, was now just another painful bed like all the others.

It was a horrendously long day for her with absolutely no lying down, no sleep nor rest from 6:00 a.m. - 8:45 tonight. Fourteen hours and 45 minutes on her feet! Almost 12 hours into her stand-a-thon, the vet and a tech assistant made a house call. We didn't want to subject Pony to the additional stress of visiting the vet's. The vet is convinced my diagnosis was right, i.e., it's something in the right shoulder/front leg and, to a lesser degree, the left one too. But what?

We agreed to have more X-rays of these taken in the morning. In the meantime, I picked up her prescription for valium. I'm sure these will help me sleep better tonight also. As I looked out on the patio just now, Po's getting reacquainted with her chaise lounge. Far off in lalaland, the valium's definitely helping her. I doubt she'll get off that bed before morning.

Plotting the war

I guess one of the things that attracted me to economics so many years ago was the charts. Those great little graphs that say so little, but can tell us so much. Just look at these beauties. What can they tell us?

Well, damn! I wish I'd discovered these sooner because as I write this Halliburton is having their big annual shareholder's meeting down in Duncan, Oklahoma and I'd loved to have been there. If I was, I'd have offered a suggestion to improve their profits far quicker than all this talk they're having about selling off part of their subsidiary, Kellogg, Brown & Root.

I'm sure I'm not the first to conclude the following from the above graphs that others are too reluctant to suggest. But since there appears to be a direct relationship between rising Halliburton stock prices, rising Halliburton Iraq profits and the number of U.S. military killed in Iraq, all Halliburton has to do is increase the number of U.S. military killed in Iraq to increase their profits and stock price.

And what better connection to do it than their former Halliburton CEO, vice president Dick Cheney? Hell, Cheney's already gotten 2400 American military killed in Iraq just looking for imaginary WMDs. I'm sure if he'd just have step up their efforts to find 'em, commit more troops to look for what doesn't exist, he'd double or triple the number of GI's killed in the process. Result? Halliburton's profits will soar according. So, what is Halliburton waiting for? Just tell your former CEO, "You go, you Big Dick!"

Old Po', my missing editor.

Another new day and it's off to a good start. For a few minutes anyway. It always amazes me what a good night's sleep can to do restore one's spirits. Even if just for a few minutes. How nice to briefly feel again how I used to feel all the time in the last millenium.

Seeing our dog outside on her chaise lounge in a stiff, twisted kind of rigor mortis position, however, gave me my first jolt of reality this morn. Pony, who'll celebrate her 10th birthday next month, has been having health problems recently. But she'd come through them to resume the life she's enjoyed with us the past 7 seven years since retiring from the race track.

But her most recent bout has me and my wife deeply concerned. Seems she is the chosen recipient of an occasional stabbing pain that causes her to cry out loudly and sends her flying out of the house to the farthest corner of the backyard where she stresses and pants for awhile. (Her X-rays look good.) And because she spends 98% of her time indoors, 98% of those stabbing pains occur in the house and she began to associate the two. To alleviate her pain, Pony decided three nights ago to "move out."

But yesterday I somehow got the sense as I was out working in the backyard, talking to and keeping an eye on Pony, that she was in the process of leaving us. Someone who has been an integral member of our little family unit for almost 7 years is slipping away, spending more and more time on the other side of the veil that hides the greater reality of things from us all.

So as I held my breath while sliding the patio door open before dawn to say, "Good Morning!" to old Po', she scared me by snapping immediately to attention. She'd made it through another night! Maybe the medications are helping her. But we're also concerned about canine dementia, noting yesterday she stumbled in the yard once or twice and on a rare visit inside the house, she banged her head into a chair.

So for the past week or so, there's been no editor of "Dada's Dally" as I adoringly call Pony. No, her loveseat next to the computer has been vacant and I confess to distraction. Pony's been on sick leave.

But for this morning and hopefully today at least, Pony is still with us as just minutes ago I lured her into the house for breakfast and her medications which she took before returning to the backyard.

The past few days have been cooler than normal making her "relocation" an acceptable experiment, a kind of "camping out." But with the temperatures on the rise, Pony's facing a return to her cooler old haunts later today; to the place she used to live, with a family that's been missing her very much. And I know she's probably going to hate that. I just hope the meds are working and there'll be no stabbing pains while she's back in the house.

Programmable Radio

This afternoon I've been listening to Neil Young's new CD "Living with War" as it's streaming in its entirety here. It's an angry effort with some excellent cuts like "Flags of Freedom" and "Let's Impeach the President." But my favorite at this point is Young's "Restless Consumer," described over on The Brad Blog as "a headbanging indictment of both American consumerism and the manipulation of the public by the corporate media. Young breaks into an almost rap-style rant in the choruses, with the refrain, 'We don’t need no more lies!'"

I like this CD. Mostly because it echoes my own anger. Maybe that helps explain why the programmable radio in our new car lights up when you first turn it on with the following welcome message.



Up to this point in life I'd never been so angered by people and events as to display it so brazenly. But under Bush that's the nation we're becoming. A bunch of angry, angst-ridden folks. Bush doesn't give a shit, and I'm sure it pleases the Osama bin Ladens, no end.

And so, with passengers and guests who now ride in the car, I no longer care whose sensibilities I affront. If they don't like the message, let'em walk, break their "addiction to oil."

It's easier to be right with your head in a sack and no one in sight to let in the light.

I have often wondered how first lady, Laura Bush, views her husband's presidency. How his continually sinking approval ratings in poll after poll must affect her.

From comments by Bush himself, we know he's unmoved by America's increasing disapproval. In some sense of "strong leadership," Bush has told us how little the opinion of Americans means to him. In other words, he doesn't give a flying fig what Americans think. He knows what's best for us, even if you and I don't.

Well, over the weekend Laura Bush appeared briefly in the neocon's favorite media "comfort zone," Fox News. It was there she answered the question that had been burning a hole in my curiosity for months and months now.

As for Bush being "the last man to get it," we learned from Pickles she shares her husband's attitudes. She's "the last woman to get it!" This was reassuring to me. The president and Mrs. Bush are on the same page. Their marriage appears solid. Whether it's megalomania, delusion, or insouciance doesn't matter. They're 100% compatible.

"I don't really believe those polls. I travel around the country. I see people, I see their responses to my husband. I see their response to me." Pickles said. Contining, "As I travel around the United States, I see a lot of appreciation for him. A lot of people come up to me and say, 'Stay the course'."

This is strong, positive feedback from a public that is carefully screened for every appearance by our president and his wife before a select crowd. There exists no more glowing examples of the vetting of oddiences the administration appears before than the few activists, to include former career CIA analyst Ray McGovern, who recently infiltrated the admission process to bravely stand up to Don Rumsfeld before a boisterous pre-screened oddience of Bush fascists.

So my hope for Laura as a kind of last resort for some sort of Bush alter-ego, some counterbalance to a man whose balance has fallen completely off the scales of reason is dead. But as unsettling as that is, I guess there's consolation to be had knowing the Bush marriage bond is strong. Good family values. And being as how it's an election year, I'm sure we'll being hearing more of that as an election issue in the months ahead. (Or, maybe not, it's almost impossible to find a sanctimonious politician still in power with values uncorrupted.)

New week. Same outrage.

Yeh, I know....quoting from another blog like FarrFeed is a cheap and easy shot, but I have pressing business this morning (which I hope to further explain here later today or tomorrow).

But this one made me smile, so I feel compelled to share it with you. After all, enough of my daily diatribes. I thought it might be nice to get someone else's perspective on the death of America.

(Okay, I confess, I have to get ready to go to the funeral home. They're having visitation hours from 2:00 - 4:00 this afternoon down at the local mortuary to honor America. I wasn't planning to go, expecting there to be such a large turnout. I envisioned having to stand in a long line extending outside into the hot sun for hours. But I was told by someone very close to the deceased, almost no one knows she's even dead. That's regrettable. Having been so many things to so many people. I'm wondering if they will have an open casket viewing? I hope not. Better to leave people remembering her the way she was in more vibrant times; not as she was at the end, i.e., a drawn, emaciated and demented crone most everyone had grown to despise or fear.)

But I digress. Here's what I wanted to share with you this morning.

The Mexicans Are Coming, The Mexicans Are Coming!
May 15, 2006 at 1:03 am by John

Oh Jesus H. Christ.

This is not a political blog. But as a concerned citizen, I feel I have to say that the Administration is in grave danger of death by ridicule. Sending the National Guard to the border? With REAL BULLETS?? To protect us from future employees??? Now who is my mother going to hire to repair her roof? That’s what I’d like to know.

This is beyond madness. Maybe Rove really has been indicted.

Cafferty lets it rip!

In trying to come up with a title for this particular blog I had several ideas, but can't seem to come up with the right one.

1. Jack Cafferty mad as hell and ain't gonna take it no more?

2. Jack Cafferty commits professional suicide before an audience of millions on nationwide TV!

3. Arlen Specter: the most powerful man on Earth, or just America's last hope?

4. CNN's quality control is broken, or how the hell'd this ever get on television in this country?

For those of you who may have missed yesterday's Wolf Blitzer show, or more specifically, Jack Cafferty's "The Cafferty File" segment, the following link will take you there for a "must see" commentary that is as rare as FOX being caught being "Fair and Balanced"!

Cafferty is obviously fed up and concerned for this nation's very survival. In what is probably the pinnacle of a neocon's idea of a traitor, I highly recommend you check out the following 4 minute video. Maybe I should title this blog, "A Rare Moment on National TV With a Patriot."

Seriously folks. Cafferty kicks ass on this one!

Cafferty: Dictatorship

Verizon Customer disService

Don't hang up (No No)
Oh don't you do it now, don't hang up (No No)
Don't hang up like you always do
I know you think our love is true
I'll explain the facts to you, don't hang up

Orlons, 1962

Was listening to Rhandi Rhodes on Air America radio this afternoon when an upset caller phoned in from Portland, OR. As this woman told it, after reading in her local paper this morning about Verizon turning over her phone records to the National Security Agency, she was so upset she called Verizon to see how long she had remaining on her phone contract.

The Verizon customer service person wanted to know why. When the customer expressed her dissatisfaction with the NSA being privy to her phone privacy, the customer service lady told her that it was her right to complain. But the customer explained she wanted to know how much longer she had with Verizon until she could change phone service.

The Verizon customer service lady said, "Well, if you want airplanes flying into your workplace, that's your business." Astonished with that response, the customer hung up.

After collecting her cool she thought she would try Verizon again. She called back. This time she got a man and as the customer was explaining her previous call and how snippy the other customer representative had been with her, this Verizon customer rep hung up on her!
~~~~~~~
From this experience, I think we're going to have to devise some means of identifying the fascists from the non-fascists in the new *Bush America* in order to avoid these kinds of incidents. Maybe something like....

"Good afternoon, you've reached Verizon customer service. My name is fascist Scott Reed. May I have your name please and how I may help you today?"

"Yes, it's Ellen Adams, and I was wondering how..."

"Hold on....our records indicate you're a non-fascist. Is that correct?"

"Yes, yes it is."

"Oh, so are we gonna have a problem with you this afternoon, Miss Adams?"

Leçon Française D'aujourd'hui (Today's French Lesson)

PART I:

"La plus ca change,"...
("The more things change,")

example: Bush's ever sinking approval ratings...in the latest Harris poll, now at 29%! (Wasn't there an old Chubby Checker song, "Limbo Rock", with the lyric, "How LOW can you go?")

PART II:

"la plus c'est la meme chose''.
("the more they remain the same")

example: Doesn't matter how much it changes, we're still going to bomb Iran! (As Bush likes to tell us, he has to ignore public opinion and do what he knows is right for America.)

The 2006 International Auto Show's DC Debut

Well, I don't know if it's possible to know exactly when the US officially becomes (or became) a fully functioning fascist state.

Ah fascism, that ugly connotation that Richard Perle loves to warn us to "Be careful how you use that word!" with much ominousity. But assigning a particular time and date as to its exact beginning, like 8:37 a.m. September 12, 2001, is probably too subjective to nail with precision. (Much like when the civil war in Iraq begins--or began.) Opinions will differ, mostly because many folks wouldn't recognize fascism if it pried them outta their beds at 2 in the morning and vanished 'em forever to some gulag in Middle Moldova.

I try to imagine how it must have been in Germany in the 30's with the rise to power of the Nazis. Of the wonderful authoritarian state model they were quietly putting together out back in the garage. How, after its construction and repeated fine tuning, the urge must have reached a point where it was no longer containable, sitting there in the garage, engine purring, revving, then slowing to an idle again. There must have come the moment when the consolidation of power within its finely tuned carbs, pistons, manifolds, whatever, demanded that baby be taken out on the highway and opened up, full throttle, for all to see.

That's kinda the point at which I'm sensing we are. Oh, we've been building this baby for many, many years. We've been sneakin' it out at night for short drives in the neighborhood like Central and South America. And glimpses of our hotrod have been caught in Southeast Asia, eastern Europe, the Caribbean, parts of the Middle East.

But before the news of the largest database ever compiled on Earth consisting of every phone call every American makes, its date, time, length, to whom, etc., you'd better have that secret hotrod in the garage out back well tuned and purring like a kitten. Because rumors America is hiding their fascist machine continue to surface.

Like the latest news of the government abruptly ending its investigation of itself regarding warrantless eavesdropping. See, the National Security Agency has stopped the Justice Department from investigating the NSA any further. Reason? Justice doesn't have the necessary security clearance! But that's no reason for concern as our president George "it'd be easier if I was a dictator" Bush assures us.

So while it appears a strange inter-governmental loggerhead is at hand, it's just illusion. Remember, the Justice Department and the NSA are both presidentially appointed. What appears to be an impassable logjam, is actually just another clue that the fascist state is performing precisely as planned. It's just all good theatre!

It's only a matter of time before we in America get it. Get what the rest of the world's been catching terrifying and awe-ful glimpses of--the ultimate American fascist racing machine!

And so it must have been in Germany in the thirties. The Nazis finally reached a point where it was easier to reveal its secret creation than conceal it. Others had caught sight of it. Time to roll out into broad daylight for all Germans to see, the wonderful authoritarian state model they had been carefully crafting for years in the garage out back.

There came the point where Hitler himself must have shouted with excitement, "Lassen Sie uns dieses Baby für eine Kreuzfahrt nehmen!" (Okay, so my German's suspect.) But then the garage door must have slowly opened and out into the light of day it came, purring. Hitler's creation openly revealed publicly for the first time. Surprised Germans, the last ones to know, watched as their Fuhrer climbed behind the wheel. Pulling goggles over his eyes, he slowly throttled up steering out onto the highway and with right arm extended over the windshield, a hearty "Heil Hitler!" was heard to resound as he sped off in the direction of Poland.

Giddy - up!

U.S.Army Specialist 5th Class Dada assigned temporary "glamour job" duty as Erosion Specialist. "It was my duty to expedite the decomposition of discarded desert beer bottles back into nature by pulverizing 'em with a tire iron - into sand. Today, if one walks through this deserted desert area, green and brown patches of sand still provide evidence of once exotic military duty performed there." ( Photo circa mid-Sixties Vietnam era.)

When I went into the kitchen to make coffee this morning, there was an article with a part circled from yesterday's newspaper. It was left by my wife. She does this sometimes when she wants to make sure I haven't missed an interesting little blip of news. (I had.) It was a nice little story about the Pentagon and United Airlines.

See, if you're lucky enough to fly United Airlines between April 17 and May 17, you may might catch an interesting 13 minute video segment called "Today's Military." In what's most likely a trial balloon for future in-flight "entertainment" possibilities, it's a film put out by the defense department (although passengers maybe not realize it because no where does it actually ever tell them that).

To make sure it's included in the airline's programming, the Pentagon is paying United $36,000 to run it for the month. So it's nice to know that while you may be trying to catch up on lost sleep from your exhilarating five day stay in Topeka, your 15 year old son may be getting indoctrinated as you snooze. But that's not the point of this. No, it's about what that little film is trying to sell.

"Today's Military" highlights military glamour jobs. Jobs like an "animal-care specialist doing humanitarian work in Thailand," the exciting career of an Air Force language instructor or some navy guy teaching top guns how to survive bailing out of aircraft. (I'm always amused by those stories of how, before their F-14 Tomcat crashed into the sea, its two crew members managed to ejaculate safely. Now I know where they learn that.)

But enough of the Pentagon's exotic jobs. "Glamour, Schmamour, I say!" After spending time in the army, I can tell you about real glamour job opportunities. You want glamour?

Stationed at a missile research and development range in the southwest for three years during Vietnam, I had the privilege as a personnel clerk to envy the occupations of a number of soldiers whose daily jobs seemed much more exciting than typing up next month's payroll.

A couple of my platoon chums worked in "Pictorial". It was their jobs to photograph missile launchings. If that sounds mundane, be assured it wasn't. Actually catching on film one incredibly fast anti-ballistic missile's launch (under development pre-ABM treaty) was like hitting a grandslam homerun with two strikes, two out, in the bottom of the ninth of a game you were losing 3-zip.

And I had buddies who actually tracked those missile's flights and chased 'em across the raw desert as they came crashing back to earth. They were assigned to "Recovery". And trust me, experimental missile flights didn't always go as planned. They sometimes "turned" on you. Or on rare occasions, flew off on their own into Mexico!

Talk about your exotic jobs. Imagine my shock, looking up from my desk one day, to see standing before me in cowboy boots, jeans, blue denim shirt and jacket, kerchief and dusty hat a guy there to review his military records! It was a young army specialist about my age. A cowboy! And his garb was his official military uniform.

That's because our little army base encompassed 4,000 square miles of desert dotted with all kinds of hi-tech radars, missile launch sites and secret weapons under development. As I learned, it was the job of this cowboy and about four others just like him to ride the range with his army horse five days a week keeping the base free of communists and errant shepards. Talk about envy. Living out on the range with Trigger, eating K-rations, no pre-dawn reveille formations or cleaning latrines!

But probably the most glamorous job out there was one I had the fortune to interview for. I don't know how I came to the attention of the Army Intelligence Agency (AIA), but was I ever excited when I did. See, in our three storied headquarters barracks, the entire top floor was occupied by just two very mysterious guys! We never saw much of 'em. They didn't have to make formations like the rest of us. In fact, so secretive were they, they didn't even associate with us. But we knew they were there because they were *special*. They got to sleep in.

It was the job of these GI's to dress as civilians, to go across the border into Mexico; to frequent the bars and brothels that other off duty soldiers were known to frequent; to blend in, observe, and to drink. All in an effort to counteract those ubiquitous tenacles of the information probing Communists.

My interview for this job went very well I thought. But hopes faded fast when I learned one of my fellow co-workers the AIA interviewed as a character reference had a very animated reaction to one of the questions asked him of my requisite qualifications. Seems "Arlo" burst out in guffaws of laughter when queried, "How well can he hold his liquor?" Thus ended my flirtation with the glamorous job of secret agent with the AIA.

I was destined to finish my army career as a clerk typist. But that wasn't bad because there was a bloody war goin' on.

But so much for namby-pamby defense department infomercials for exotic military jobs like foreign language instructor as in-flight entertainment. Isn't it ironic that those exciting job opportunities comprise less than one tenth of one percent of military job vacancies, but those are the ones the pentagon choses to focus on? To glamorize? When the greatest number and urgency of vacancies in need of filling are those of combat infantrymen?

I just know that in the "old days" Uncle Sam didn't need to make infomercials. He had a draft. The number of "volunteers" was nearly limitless. Perhaps we should reactivate that selective service capability. To increase public interest in our military and its aspiring global ambitions.

What better way to stir up interest in wars than to have the public sacrifice family members and loved ones to the effort. And who knows? Those who don't end up extricating Iraqis from their beds in the middle of the night or dodging IED's on Baghdad streets, may end up becoming a cowboy, secret agent, or "animal-care specialist doing humanitarian work in Thailand"!

Black comedy, deadly serious!

No one likes us-I don't know why
We may not be perfect, but heaven knows we try
But all around, even our old friends put us down
Let's drop the big one and see what happens

We give them money-but are they grateful?
No, they're spiteful and they're hateful
They don't respect us-so let's surprise them
We'll drop the big one and pulverize them

excerpt from "Political Science" by Randy Newman

Thank god for the United States, supreme guardian of individual security and freedoms for all citizens of the world. Latest example being a demand by China yesterday for the return of five of its citizens.

The US has sent them instead to Albania. That's because they're Muslims accused by the Chinese of instigating a violent separatist movement in a northwest part of China and the US fears if they were to send them home they might face persecution.

That wouldn't be so amazing, save for the fact these five individuals were captured by the US during our invasion of Afghanistan and have spent the last four years in our Cuban Gitmo Gulag where they were held without charges and persecuted.

But one should look at this in a bigger context of US "diplomacy". One of self-righteous indignation for the rights of all other nations when juxtaposed to our own. When you consider we are making plans to bomb Iran,
Russia and China's doorsteps, with an arsenal which may include tactical nukes while the vice president wraps up his freedom tour of former Soviet satellite nations where he chided the Russians for "backsliding on democracy" it's obvious the Bush idea of diplomacy is simple: repeated pokes to the eyes with a sharp stick.

I guess this is the best we as a nation can expect from an administration with all the diplomacy of a rabid pit bull. But then tact, negotiation and compromise is not the forte of megalomaniacs. Note the almost giddy response of our Oil Tanker Rice to President Mahmoud Ahmadinejad's letter yesterday.

"There's nothing in here that would suggest that we're on any different course than we were before we got the letter," by which Rice means war. Dismissal is so much easier than negotiation. Bombs so much easier than compromise.

So let's brace ourselves for more war because that's exactly where we're headed. You can't stop it. I can't stop it. Congress won't stop it. It's as though we've all jumped into the backseat of a hotrod being driven down a narrow, twisty mountain road by a power-drunk joyrider. And since none of us in the backseat seems inclined or able to just say "No!" and take away junior's keys, let's not forget to buckle up, hang on tight and hope he doesn't get us all killed.

It's difficult to tell if it's shear incompetence, omnipotence or a lust for the rapture. But I guess that's how it is with delusional religious megalomaniacal zealots. Why do I have this growing insecurity 'the person best able to protect America,' as polled Americans claimed in 2004, may end up, instead of lifting us all up to heaven, dropping us into the bowels of hell?

Everything left is now right

WASHINGTON -- A founding father of the vast right-wing conspiracy is throwing a July fundraiser in New York for Sen. Hillary Rodham Clinton's re-election campaign.

Rupert Murdoch, the devoutly conservative Australian-born founder of Fox News and owner of the New York Post will fete a Democrat who is the very embodiment of left-wing excess to his viewers and readers, a source in Clinton's camp said.

From Clinton gains unlike support

This'll never work as a freeway sign

Play with 'em. But don't break 'em.

Oh oh, I'm beginning to sense there's an election just around the corner. How's that, you ask? Well, there was this little article in yesterday's paper telling how a panel in the Senate pushed onward with their proposed amendment to the constitution to ban desecration of the American flag!

God in heaven! I was wondering what the hot issue of this fall's election would be? Maybe flag burning! Or, who knows? Maybe it'll be a ban on abortions or family planning? Gay marriage is hot. How about prayers in schools and commandments in public buildings? And, oh holy shit....there's always the threat of gun control--that omnipresent threat to our 2nd amendment rights.

These are certainly topics deserving of a front burner because, as every American knows it's issues like these that so threaten the very fabric of American government and our way of life.

But maybe a word of caution would be wise here to all those in D.C. up for reelection. You may not want to really resolve any of those controversial issues.

Why? Well, if one looks at the big issues of Bush's first "election," it was those of moral decay, corruption and the scandals in Washington. These are things Bush republicans can no longer harp on. That's because they've neutralized them as issues with their very own corruption, scandals and moral decay.

The 2004 election preyed on fear. Americans responded positively to the stronger security Bush offered them. Of course now, as weekly revelations reveal, even "slow Americans" are beginning to display growing doubts about a president who can't even find Osama bin Laden and who attacked the wrong nation in response to 9/11. And then there was Katrina.

The war's approval is dramatically sinking while Bush threatens to ignite another one. Perhaps that will increase every slow American's sense of security Bush provides, resulting in more astounding victories in the November elections as Bush hopes. And who knows, maybe by nuking Iran and with a little nudging of the numbers from electronic voting machines it will.

But with dissatisfaction growing dramatically among Americans with their checkless and balanceless government, it may become extremely difficult to steal another election; to reconcile such enormous disparities between public opinion and paperless computer vote tallies. At some point, it may be that even overly docile apathetic Americans will get pissed!

But I kinda doubt conservative republicans will want to use security as an issue this fall. That's because insecurities are up, not down, thanks to Bush policies.

Some of Bush's other past "hot" campaign issues seem to be resolved or compromised too. Like his anti-big government advocacy and keeping big government out of private citizen's lives. That's because we now enjoy the biggest government in history we can't afford. The nation is bankrupt! Meanwhile, the FBI and NSA are tapping American's phones, reading their e-mails and spying without warrants causing us all to feel less secure, not more. It's enough to leave one wondering which is the far graver threat? Terrorism or our own government?

Then their was that criticism of our weak military under Clinton. Keep in mind, this comes from an administration of chickenshit war hawks with little or no military background. But Rumsfeld has banished that critique! I don't think many conservatives will be riding that beaten, dead horse into November.

Another recurring Bush theme is his advocacy of state's rights over the federal government's. But this is full of inconsistencies on issues such as assisted suicide, gay marriage, medical marijuana, food labelling. And then there's the tendency of the federal government to blackmail state policy by withholding funds for highways if states don't pass federal legislation desired, or schools that don't permit students to be recruited as much needed government fodder for our global militant ambitions.

So conservatives must be careful. Most of their high ground morality is either sinking or now being co-opted by an eager opposition party wanting to claim their share of the responsibility for wars, unaffordable deficits, shrinking rights, increased insecurities from further Homeland Security intrusions into our lives, etc.

Other issues, such as energy, healthcare costs and burgeoning numbers of uninsured, vanishing job security and pensions are shared by both parties. That is, there's little discernable differences between them. Neither seems inclined to solve these problems themselves. They're much too controversial, which makes them far too risky politically. Better to let their insurance, pharmaceutical, oil and other industry benefactors make the laws. They know what's best for all Americans!

So okay, with elections on the horizon and most issues either compromised or too hot to handle, go ahead and roll out those passionate perennials. Play with 'em, toss 'em around, but for god's sake, don't break them by solving 'em. Leave those flag burners, gays, bible thumpers, abortionists, NRA folks hangin' another two years. We're gonna need some kind of really significant issues to delineate our differences in the '08 elections.

Quote of the Day

A line from the 1988 movie, "Milagro Beanfield War", is today's Quote of the Day. It's inspired by the Bush regime's dismal failure to bring to justice Osama bin Laden whom the cowboy president vowed before the whole world would be brought in "dead or alive".

Quite simply, it goes: "This posse couldn't find itself!"

Sometimes a group can be so incompetent, it destroys entire nations in the process of its own self-destruction.

Further evidence of the demise of the Bush administration. Don't expect a resurrection.

Politics unfolding in the creative arts.


My mood as reflected in my posts today are tending away from ranting at the melodrama that dominates the daily national stage like so much atrociously bad acting. Really, bad-bullshit-acting! Such continuous materialization of absurdities coming out of our nation's capital only serve to confirm our great American experiment is dead.

Instead I'm leaning more on those places where, for me and many others obviously, hope still remains. I'm talking about the smaller stages across the nation, those of of localism. Maybe I'm feeling particularly depraved because I've been watching too much national news, absorbing increasing helpings of hopelessness. Or maybe it's because I haven't made my semi-annual pilgrimmage to Taos, NM in over a year and I'm in desperate need of the renewal Taos so unselfishly gives to anyone open to it.

With that in mind, I'd like to mention the art form of Santos. A Santos is the name given to Spanish Colonial hand carved and painted wooden images, usually of saints or other religious figures. It is believed they began somewhere around the 16th century among Jesuit priests.

Traveling in the northern New Mexican Southwest, it is not uncommon to encounter these little figures in galleries and exhibitions of folk art reflecting the Hispanic tradition of devotion.

But sometimes as artists are birthing their images in wood, they take a creative twist and, in so doing, make these curious manifestations even more enchanted. Take for example, contemporary Santa Fean santero Arthur Lopez who said of one of the dominant influences on his work, "The scandals are still going on and sometimes I can't help myself. I have to say something."


As Lopez says of his santo "Self Proclaimed Savior and His Weapons of Mass Deception," it's "'Distinctly dark and sarcastic.' The piece portrays a figure of President George W. Bush in cowboy boots and a loin cloth of the United States flag, crucified on a cross of bullets emblazoned with 'IRAQ' instead of 'INRI,' and oil instead of blood gushing out his wounded chest; Pinocchio-nosed Condoleezza Rice and Donald Rumsfeld stand prayerfully on either side of the cross.

"I'm seeing the world and everything that's happening in it and how pious (Bush) tries to portray himself. That's where Rice and Rumsfeld are all coming from, just like a crucifixion with the mourning figures on the side. It's so much like a political cartoon," Lopez says of his 'Self Proclaimed Savior'."*

Attributes: *The Taos News; photo courtesy of Parks Gallery

Reminder of the Day

This is your "elected" official who has claimed through signing statements, i.e., additions to bills he has signed into law, the authority to bypass more than 750 statutes, which were provisions contained in about 125 bills.

Source: Boston GLobe, May 3, 2006.

Speak shtickly and carry a big soft!

Quote of the day from vice president Dick Cheney speaking on Belarus:

"Peaceful demonstrators have been beaten, dissidents have vanished and a climate of fear prevails under a government that subverts free elections... there is no place in a Europe whole and free for a regime of this kind."

(Which probably explains why the United States is in North America. ~Dada)

*********************

Well our Big Dick has turned up again. Not in some underground bunker buried deep beneath the bowels of Washington as the nation's being attacked by its own airliners. Nor is he at his Wyoming vacation grounds safely distanced from any coastline with incoming Katrina-force hurricanes.

Why, he's not even off on a weekend of fun in the marshes of Texas swilling beers and pelting lawyers with buckshot. No, this time he's in Vilnius, Lithuania, taking his show on the road in a six day "pro-democracy tour" at a summit meeting of Baltic and Black Sea leaders.

Ala President Theodore Roosevelt's, "Speak softly and carry a big stick," Cheney's trying out his latest routine. But unlike Teddy's advice to "suggest" to others atop moral high ground backed with authority, it appears he's gotten it contorted as evidenced by his Thursday admonitions to Russia.

Instead of "suggesting", our Big Dick seemed to be threatening. And instead of standing atop "moral high ground," it's become obvious to the rest of the world that in the last five years, Cheney's moral mound was nothing but quicksand. His once feared "authority" as advanced by his overextended and undermanned military has become corrupted and bankrupt, just like his nation.

No, as has become increasingly obvious to more and more citizens of his own country, we no longer can "Speak softly and carry a big stick." Big Dick must instead "Speak shtickly and carry a big soft."

His shtick included warning the Russians about "backsliding on democracy". Now I know that Cheney, Bush, Rumsfeld, Rice all live with their wagons tightly circled. But before Dick runs off overseas with his new act, maybe he should step outside his small circle of huge, over armored, under mileaged, steel-plated black SUVs and rub elbows with Joe and Jane Citizen back home. They might have some opinions that would just shock the hell outta Big Dick. Maybe he'd gain a new perspective on the real "backsliders of democracy".

But I'm sure Cheney's stand-up got some real laughs and snickers from those present. He just didn't see or hear 'em. That's because they were behind his back after the show.

Cheney also used his routine to chide Russia on the use of its enormous resources. He urged them to stop using energy supplies for "blackmail" or what is often referred to in Washington as "bullying its neighbors". I'm sure that got some real nervous chuckles and eyeballs rolling.

From that, it might appear Dick is suffering a kind of psychological perversion of penis envy. Cheney might do well to first order his own house before trying to order someone elses, i.e., it's bad when Russia, who has oil, uses it to advance their own national interests, but when Cheney, who has none, tries to steal it from other countries, calls it "spreading democracy".

Well, that's quite a show going on over in Vilnius. It's a warm-up and fine tuning of our Big Dick's act before he delivers it in July in St. Petersburg. I'm sure it's gonna get a lot of laughs when it plays in Russia. Mostly because it's not the least bit funny.

(Quotes courtesy of Reuters on Excite)

Hanging from the ceiling

Okay, I'm going to take a break today from the usual rage against the machine. What I'd like to do instead is quote you just a part of another blog that takes a different and very tempting downhill charge at the uphill battle we're all engaging (most often without much success).

But before I spin you off in that direction, let me just remark in passing of its author, John Farr. As a wannabe Taoseno, I was drawn to Farr's writing a couple years ago. Delivering a morsel of Taos life when I was most homesick to be back there was just the elixir I needed.

So rapt by what I read, I decided next trip to northern New Mexico, I would pursue this John Farr. Fortunately for him, my wife and I got hopelessly lost on the infinite dirt roads south of Taos. While we never found Farr, we did discover another side to Taos previously unknown to us which was pleasant in itself. And, having made my attempt, I was able to lay to rest my flirtation with stalking poor John Farr.

But in another recent attack of extreme homesickness for Taos, I was fortunate to rediscover the writing of John Farr. What follows is just a carrot on a stick. A teaser. I'm hoping, after a nip or two you'll be enticed, as was I, to lunge for the whole carrot. To follow the link, finish the story and think about your belief system from a different angle. Maybe upside down, from the other side, or inside out. I know I am.

*********************************
Hope Sucks Tuesday, May 2nd, 2006
by John Farr

That’s not exactly how environmental activist Derrick Jensen puts it in the latest issue of Orion Magazine, but pretty close. There’s an online version of his essay “Beyond Hope” available here, and I urge everyone to have a look:

Frankly, I don’t have much hope. But I think that’s a good thing. Hope is what keeps us chained to the system, the conglomerate of people and ideas and ideals that is causing the destruction of the Earth.

To start, there is the false hope that suddenly somehow the system may inexplicably change. Or technology will save us. Or the Great Mother. Or beings from Alpha Centauri. Or Jesus Christ. Or Santa Claus. All of these false hopes lead to inaction, or at least to ineffectiveness… False hopes bind us to unlivable situations, and blind us to real possibilities.

This is powerful stuff and something you may not have considered. Jensen is saying that we have to embrace despair — despair being an appropriate response to the desperate situation we’re in — and then we’ll be free to act: .............

He’s speaking of the destruction of the planet, which obviously trumps everything else, including politics, but his argument speaks directly to something I’ve commented on at various sites in the progressive blogosphere, namely that the American experiment is over.

*********************************
I hope that was enough to grab you and make you want to read the rest here. Trust me, it'll be well worth your time.

Social Security and Medicare going bankrupt sooner than expected!

Social Security, Medicare Trust Funds Sink, by Martin Crutsinger
(an AP excerpt from Excite)

"WASHINGTON (AP) - The trust fund for Social Security will be depleted in 2040, a year before expected, and Medicare will exhaust its trust fund reserves just 12 years from now, trustees for the programs said Monday.

"Their annual report showed deterioration in the financial condition of both of the government's two largest benefit programs.

"A year ago, the depletion of the Social Security trust fund had been projected to occur in 2041 and the Medicare hospital insurance fund in 2020."

I confess headlines like this confuse me. No, I mean, they really confuse the hell outta me! I'm not very astute when it comes to public finance so when I first read this story today, I found myself heading for the Maalox closet. Then I thought, "Relax, what's cause for alarm here? First, I'll probably be dead before either Medicare or Social Security go bankrupt."

"So, okay, okay, Medicare goes belly up in 2018, Social Security in 2040...what's the big deal with that?" Then I thought of our wars.

"When's the last time the war in Afghanistan was in the black? Or Iraq?" I mused. "Oh my god! I don't think these wars are even being financed within the annual federal budget like Social Security and Medicare. I mean, here are two wars that NEVER were 'pay as you go'. They're being charged to our kids and grandkids.

Well, this was reassuring to me because if we can 'charge card' global war, surely when Medicare and Social Security need to increase their credit line to include going into debt to pay for a little security for our citizenry it surely won't be a problem, right?

For a moment or two I felt reassured. Then it hit me: I was comparing apples and oranges here.

To finance social programs that benefit Americans, we must be fiscally responsible. To be otherwise makes headlines. But to blow the shit out of innocent citizens in other countries, fiscal responsibility is out the window. Barely gets a mention in the media. For these kinds of programs, seems we have an unlimited credit line to charge our asses into total bankruptcy to destroy everyone else. It's not even news. God forbid if we extend such financial grace to needy Americans!

Social Security and Medicare bankruptcy make big headlines. Financing bankrupting global wars don't. Okay,so it's back to the Maalox closet.