Running on "Taos time".

One of the last things I heard before going "lights out" last night was a story of how certain leaders of the democrats are advocating becoming compleat republicans by courting evangelicals. I use the term "leaders" loosely here because stories like that affirm, to my mind, they are more like herd sheep or headless chickens. But that's what happens when you leave the TV on CNN for more than its commercials. So if we thought we didn't have much choice with just two parties, whatever are we going to do with only one remaining?

But that aside, yesterday was another enriching day in Taos. It can be a frustrating place at times. That's because we never, no I mean NEVER, get to all the places we intend, mostly because of unplanned encounters. Let me give you an example.

My wife had gone into a small cafe to look at the breads they had on sale there when a fellow entered with an extremely anti-IMF t-shirt on. On it's backside was a littany of crimes committed by this organization in the guise of helping poor nations. Before I could finish reading them all, he concealed the message by leaning it against a chair back.

But undeterred, I felt compelled to approach the gentleman and say two words: "Nice Shirt". That was my mistake, because it was another hour before we got out of that cafe with an unintended lunch in our bellies.

That's because the t-shirt with the angry message belonged to a fellow by the name of Bob Pederson. His website lists him as Executive Director of Tierra Lucero, a small company whose goal as listed there is "developing the skills and techniques necessary to eat a fully bioregional diet (which will be challenged only by his deep and enduring love of the coffee bean — stay tuned for play-by-play coverage of Bob’s grueling inner battle!)"

We talked at some length of Bob's concern for a nationwide food distribution system that can be vulnerable to interruption which could lead to rather traumatic social conditions. As a result, he has some pretty incredible visions for communities nationally to create greater food independence. But his focus is on Taos for now.

It became obvious after the "nice shirt" comment I'd made, Bob had lots more to say than his anger against the IMF as expressed on his back. Bob has a lot of positive ideas on what could and should be done to counteract our growing dependence on a system becoming increasingly hell bent on destroying us.

Bob was also present at the WTO meetings in Seattle a few years back that gained so much international attention for the demonstrations against that organization. As an observer down on the streets, it was enlightening to learn how well organized police with undercover agents in the crowd actually incited riots so authorities had excuse to move in and bust heads. In that particular instance as Bob related, the "protestors" most active in inciting violence whom the police were NOT interested in arresting, were the ones all wearing the same thing, L.L. Bean hats and carrying a paper under their arm.

Yes, just what we need. More paranoia to remind us, all is not as it always seems. Sometimes good guys are the assholes and the assholes are the good guys.

Afterwards, we departed a pleasant acquaintence I'd not intended to make, with a lunch I'd not intended to eat over an hour I'd not intended to spend. It was time well spent.

On the Road with "Dada" Kuralt (cont'd)

This is a picture of the old five-window Chevy pick-up that graced the outside of Taos artist Ed Sandoval's gallery last time I was here. Appearing in many of his delightful paintings, I sadly learned he let the truck go. Happily, however, I discovered while speaking with him, he's in the process of procuring another 5 window pick-up.

The young couple I sent to view the Rio Grande River from the shaky bridge across the 750 foot deep gorge just west of here didn't jump. That's because I saw them after they returned. But they were sad nonetheless, not because of that opportunity foregone, but because they were readying to depart Taos, to return to Indiana. Originally from Dallas, they had made a tragic mistake - they had moved to the Hoosier state. A move that didn't work for either of them, hence, the reason for their presence in this area. He had just finished a job interview in Albuquerque. As he described it, "It was a bomb."

A bit discouraged, an Albuquerque friend suggested they spend the remainder of their time they'd alloted to shop neighborhoods and homes in prep for their move to Albuquerque with a trip up to Taos instead. To help them "forget". It worked! Perhaps that's why I had felt compelled to ask before directing them to the gorge bridge if they had thoughts of jumping. They had looked a little sad.

But as happens with so many who come to Taos, they were both smitten and confessed during our farewells they had even tried to extend their time here. But through the inflexibility of Travelocity, they had failed. And so, I wished them luck and they vowed to return. "Perhaps we'll meet again here, one October, amid the autumn splendor. "

Our initial attraction to Taos was place. Capturing us, we kept returning for its beauty.

But over time, Taos became for us an attraction of people as well. It's an incredible mix of cultures. Native American, Spanish, Mexican, and Anglo coexist in an unspoken pact written in the blood of their forebearers who, at one time or another, had slaughtered each other as members of opposing clans.

It's that history of turmoil just behind the facade of this vibrant community that a delicious, unspoken tension manifests in incredible outbursts of artistic creativity. Because of this, I think people from outside want "inside" the Taos experience, if for only a day or two, to experience what life can be when diverse groups coexist when tensions of community are employed creatively instead of destructively.

And so, yesterday was devoted to "people" and the renewal of friendships gone too long unexperienced. In our 14 month absence I discovered that friends can "get lost" and if to be rediscovered, work is required. I learned you can't cultivate a field, plant seeds, and leave it untended without weeding and nuturing. Fourteen months is way too long to let things go.

So while some effort will be required to recover missing persons, we are so very, very fortunate to have intact our friendship of the originals who opened up this whole Taos experience for us. We wrapped up our second day with a second night among these friends.

Finally, I wanted to mention my favorite Taos art gallery. It's that of Ed Sandoval and his wife, Ann Huston. Working in different media and styles, theirs is a marriage that most captures, for me, the mystical qualities Northern New Mexico holds. Their gallery is truly as its name says, a "Studio de Colores". If you happen to click on this link, be sure check out the art of both of these most talented artists, to contrast their styles and subjects. And the colors. Wow, do they know how to use the colors!

I had the fortune to encounter Ed in his studio yesterday and during our visit he showed me his latest paintings and current projects that include a sculpture of that wonderful "Amarante" like character discussed here previously from the movie, "Milagro Beanfield War". Yet not cast, Ed has already sold six of them!

But there was another little project that has manifested in glass. As a wine bottle, it struck me as the most incredible, beautiful bottle ever. Of all the glass containers in life, I've never--EVER!--seen such a beautiful piece of work. Commissioned by a California vineyard, the large bottle displays a gorgeous Sandoval painting that--amazingly--is embossed into the glass! I don't know what the wine inside is like, but if this container is any indication, it's some of the world's best! It is my hope to return for a picture of this because, as the day wore on, that embossed wine bottle etched itself deeper and deeper, to where I can't get it out of my head.

On The Road with "Dada Kuralt"

We had a great journey to Taos yesterday. Traversing almost the entire state of New Mexico from south to north is like driving up page 43 of the Rand McNally roadmap. Only there's pictures. Thousands of pictures.

Always, one of my 'must stops' is in the little town of San Antonio, NM. There, at the Owl Bar and Cafe, they dish up the world's best green chili cheeseburger even if it is only 9:30 in the morning. Yesterday's did not disappoint.

South of Taos, we took a detour through Alcalde. It's a small community like so many on the side of the Rio Grande just clinging to life where it's very easy for anyone the least bit imaginative to sense they have not just gone off the beaten path, they've stepped outside of time.

A few miles further to the north, we noted the gates into another time warp had been left open. The temptation was just too great. We turned into Johnnie Meier's incredible yard of vanishing icons from the heydays of Route 66. A couple of old Oldsmobiles from petroleum's middle ages commune with great old gas pumps towering over them, pumps that nourished them over half a century ago.

Johnny Meier is the former President of the Route 66 Association of NEW MEXICO - "The Mother Road in the Land of Enchantment!" We first encountered him a couple of years ago as we were returning home from a few days in Taos. You know how you pass interesting places on the side of the road but are always in a rush to get somewhere else?

Well, that's what we did our first time to stop there. We just drove past. But then we turned around and went back. And trust me, we were so very happy we did. Because Johnny Meier is a braintrust of New Mexico, from its glory days of Route 66's past, he seeks tirelessly to preserve, to its other extreme, its future, the Atomic Age to which he devoted much of his career.

I hope to write more about Johnnie in a future blog. But after another rewarding visit with him, it was a short drive into our goal, Taos, where we arrived in incredibly cool 70 degree conditions with moisture laden clouds sagging dangerously low to the ground. In the evening, it was a reunion with dear friends.

Today we'll look at some art and explore for changes that have occurred since our last time here over 14 months ago. Always anticipating the unexpected as the day unfolds under the spell of Taos. Hopefully upon our return, I'll have a few nice pictures to share. For now, I'm using pics from previous trips (in case you notice "fall colors" in any of them). Today's is of an old 1954, or so, Mercury I spotted in Rancho de Taos a couple visits back.

Need Pot?

Early tomorrow morning, the wife and I will be heading out for four nights and days in beautiful Taos. On the way there, if you chose to get to Taos by way of Santa Fe, you might want to note you can get potted there. In fact, Santa Fe has lots of pots, but blue ones seem to be one of the more abundant colors.

But I think we'll skip Santa Fe tomorrow. Instead, I'm thinking we'll sneak up on Taos in surprise from the other side of the mountains just to its east. Maybe a place called Angel Fire, or Eagle Nest high above Taos, from where we'll descend under cover of the flashes and explosions of a mid afternoon thunderstorm's sneak attack, washing down from the heights in haste. Through the gullies along the path of least resistance we'll charge, taking the village by storm.

And overtaking it by complete surprise and securing a foothold inside the comfort of our inn, we'll then scout the area like all good insurgents doing subtle but valuable reconnaissance, beginning at Eske's, the township's only small, but most excellent, brewpub. There'll we blend into the crowd while devouring Wanda's Wicked Stew and swilling Ten Thousand Foot Stouts made from the waters of the mountains from which we just gushed down the hillsides in. Ah, to be reunited with old friends!

(More after we secure a foothold there!)

That sobering champagne flight.

When 2nd Lt. James Cathey's body arrived at the Reno Airport, Marines climbed into the cargo hold of the plane and draped the flag over his casket as passengers watched the family gather on the tarmac. During the arrival of another Marine's casket last year at Denver Int'l Airport, Major Steve Beck described the scene as one of the most powerful in the process. "See the people in the windows? They sit right there in the plane, watching those Marines. You gotta wonder what's going through their minds, knowing that they're on the plane that brought him home," he said. "They're going to remember being on that plane for the rest of their lives. And they should." ~ © 2005 Rocky Mountain News *

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Friday afternoon I received an e-mail from a friend. It was prompted by yesterday's blog, "Image of the Day," which was a photo of a soldier killed in Iraq returning home. It reminded me of an Edward Hopper painting.

Inspired by that, this friend sent me this link to the Rocky Mountain News. There you will find a series of extremely powerful and sobering images by Pullitzer Prize winning photographer, Todd Heisler. And while viewing the images there, I wondered why in the hell we don't see more of these?

I know it's the president's desire to shield us all from the more unpleasant realities these photos depict - the consequences of his unfounded war. But we all need to see these, and see them often. These are our sons and daughters, brothers and sisters, fathers and mothers, our family members, our loved ones, our friends coming home in the shadows of the night.

I chose this particular image because of its starkness. Of a reality Lt. James Cathey's fellow passengers were forced to confront at the end of this, his last flight home.

Funny, yesterday I posted the "Image of the Day" because it reminded me of something the late Edward Hopper might have painted. Just now, studying this image, I am struck by the reminder of another American artist this one so strongly suggests. But that's not my point today.

No, the point is this war and the one just two doors over in Afghanistan are being conducted as we Americans back home go comfortably about our business. But these images convey precisely what is "our business." And it's one, sadly, too many of us choose to ignore.

And as a anecdote to the friend who sent this link to me, please note he is a German citizen living here in the States. And of the source of his link he says, "I got this link out of the German Magazine I still receive through the Military." Figures. It's difficult to imagine any American magazine linking to these images.

Thanks friend, for forwarding the link to this site containing these most sobering images. "Miss, can we get some more champagne over here?"

* In accordance with Title 17 U.S.C. Section 107, this material is distributed without profit to those who have expressed a prior interest in receiving the included information for research and educational purposes.

Image of the Day

As I was listening to Nadia McCaffrey on Democracy Now! this morning, they flashed a copy of this picture of her son, Patrick, returning from Iraq. You might remember Mrs. McCaffrey. She's the parent who defied president Bush's directive that caskets containing the bodies of our soldiers killed in Iraq NOT be photographed returning home. Thankfully, Nadia McCaffrey was not about to let her son, who had made the ultimate sacrifice in service to his country, "come home in darkness". I was so very proud of her for honoring her son by inviting the press to photograph Patrick's return.

But as a former art student and admirer of the paintings of Edward Hopper which seem to often convey a bleak loneliness, I was very struck by this photograph. As with many of Hopper's subjects, there's a quiet desperation lurking just beneath their veneers. At least, that's what this photo reminded me of--something Hopper would have done.

And so, imagining Edward Hopper alive and still painting just one Universe over from our own, I saw this photo as a Hopper canvas. And then I tried to think of a title for it. Maybe something like, "Cruising Main Street, Twenty-first Century Style."

The government we deserve, part 37

"America" by Daniel Chester French. With her right foot on top of the head of Quetzelcoatl, clutching the torch of liberty and her left hand holding a cloak of security over American labor, the statue appears to be just another of so many adorning DC buildings and monuments destined for the dustbin of the marble quarry.

New Year's Eve, 1997, house majority leader Tom DeLay said to a group of businessmen hosting a dinner in his honor, "You are a shining light for what is happening in the Republican Party and you represent everything that is good about what we're trying to do in America in leading the world in a free market system."

But what the hell was he talking about? This was said to a bunch of Mariana Islands sweatshop owners employing thousands of Southeast Asian women working long hours for slave wages, kept in labor camps surrounded by fences capped with barbed wire to keep them in. In their "spare" time, many of these women were encouraged to take second jobs as strippers and prostitutes.

But during their long days, they sewed little "Made in the USA" tags inside our blue jeans. And later in the stores back in the real USA, it made us all feel good to be "buying American".

DeLay's trip affirming 'ultimate capitalism' was arranged by lobbyist Jack Abramoff. And the golf and snorkeling was great and the schmoozing with these businessmen from the darkside rewarded Abramoff and DeLay handsomely.

And as one of the largest sweatshop owners said through a hidden microphone into a hidden tape recorder afterwards, DeLay guaranteed that he need NOT worry about any bill coming to the floor of the House back in the US that would try to reform or improve conditions for the slaves "employed" in his model factory. That factory representing "everything that is good about what we're trying to do in America in leading the world in a free market system."

But that was over eight years ago and Abramoff's been indicted and DeLay's finally gone from the House, to work his *magic* through his many great connections made over years as the archetypal holier-than-thou corruption oozing representative on the take.

So how's DeLay's promised "free market system" doing here today? Well, progressing slowly but nicely, thank you. As we saw this week in the senate another proposal to raise the minimum wage above $5.15 was successfully killed.

The minimum wage now stands at its lowest in fifty years in terms of real dollars. But as Amy Goodman of "Democracy Now!" was quick to point out on yesterday's show, "congress has not rejected all federal pay hikes: last week, House lawmakers voted to increase their salaries by more than Three Thousand Dollars. It was their seventh straight pay raise congress passed for themselves" while the minimum wage has remained frozen at $5.15/hour.

That's rich, but that's the kind of representative government we send to Washington to fight for our interests and rights. "We the people" who's menial wages are suppressed repeatedly at below poverty levels while our representatives continue to enrich their own pay and benefits. It wouldn't be so bad if they really were up there fighting for us, but so much of the bullshit passed by clowns posing as serious actors do the exact opposite. They reduce, restrict, and revoke our rights and security while enriching theirs and those of their real constituents, those back pocket stuffing lobbyists of business and industry. (Remember my recent blog debating how to protect business when someone steals your identity (!) currently being debated in congress!)

Perhaps the shit that goes on in the halls of congress and its back rooms and broom closets and over on K Street behind our backs and under the tables of swanky restaurants and exclusive clubs is the shining beacon of "what is happening in the Republican Party and...everything that is good about what we're trying to do in America," that DeLay proudly boasted of. And lest you think I'm being partisan here, same goes for Democrats as well.

With this kind of government, does anyone else get as excited as I when August rolls around? Is there any kind of collective 'sigh of relief' knowing congress has gone home, and bush is clearing brush for four or five weeks and we can't be screwed some more while everyone's outta town?

I had occasion to speak with a political science instructor at a local college earlier this week. She told me of the apathy of her students. They don't vote and they don't care. They don't connect anything the government does 'up there' with their lives 'down here'. Political science is about as relevant to their lives as the course being taught just across the hall, Economics 101. It was depressing, but perhaps there's encouragement to be taken in the words of president Bush as he was 'doofing' around in Europe this week.

Speaking in Hungary to honor the 50th anniversary of that nation's failed uprising against the Soviet Union he assured, "Liberty can be delayed but it cannot be denied." I know that's irony at its extreme, witnessing as we have, the continued collapse of the United States and its liberties under his rule.

Perhaps by Bush saying "Liberté can be delayed," he was thinking of his republican congress postponing a vote to renew the 1965 Voting Rights Act that enfranchised many black voters in the South who had previously been denied their right to vote. Because some republicans say it unfairly singles out seven southern states, plus Arizona and Alaska it "needs work". (Maybe it's seemingly 'unfairness' is because, as some leaders in congress have suggested according to USA Today, "states with documented histories of discrimination may still practice it and have earned the extra scrutiny.")

Whatever. If you are one who holds out Bush's hope for this country that liberté cannot be denied, only delayed, keep the faith. But why to I suspect when Bush said "delayed" I think he was talking about "DeLayed", as in what Tom DeLay's been "trying to do in America in leading the world in a free market system." So far that vision seems intact as it's ongoing march continues to surpass our government's wildest dreams.

And like those young students of political science seem to be saying for all of us, "Who cares?"

Quote of the Day

As testament to the hubris of our war whoring leadership, ask yourself, "How many of those in power, commanding our troops into battle, have made the ultimate sacrifice and laid down their life on a battlefield of war?" I can testify with absolute certainty the answer is, "Not one!" (And that's a real damn shame!) ~ Dada

New Orleans ethnic cleansing?

Disparate facts?

Fact 1: The first 100 National Guardsmen of a contingent that will eventually grow to 300 in number arrived in New Orleans today. They will be joined by 60 state police being also deployed. Reason? To help keep the peace after a violent weekend in which 6 people were killed. The Guardian.

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Fact 2: In New Orleans, residents of a tent city outside the 1,300 unit St. Bernard public housing development, which the government has barred them from and plans to demolish, have vowed on July 4th to storm its fences and barbed wire in order to return to their homes. Democracy Now!

Are these two news stories unconnected, or could they be set to collide in fireworks this Independence Day?

A Dada teaser....

I apologize for the following titillation, but suddenly I'm ecstatic and there's not enough of me to contain it all. So, for just a hint until things are totally firmed up, I offer the following.

You know we're going to Taos next week. Well, I believe we are going to be returning to Taos far sooner than our usual annual October visit. That's because it now appears we will be going to Rummy's ranch on Saturday, August 5th, in the presence of a very special guest. This is extremely exciting! More soon.

"You cannot come to Taos without feeling that here is one of the chosen spots on earth." D.H. Lawrence

Our devolving government

As many are aware, president Bush during his five and one-half years in office has eliminated the need to veto a bill passed by congress. Wow! That's quite an accomplishment. Vetoes are, like, so passe they've become antiquated curiosities assigned to the dustbin of history. That's all thanks to Bush's creative use of those little signing statements he adds to bills he's signed--after everyone leaves the room! (Examples follow.)
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Dec. 30, 2005: US interrogators cannot torture prisoners or otherwise subject them to cruel, inhuman, and degrading treatment.

Bush's signing statement: The president, as commander in chief, can waive the torture ban if he decides that harsh interrogation techniques will assist in preventing terrorist attacks.

Dec. 30: When requested, scientific information ''prepared by government researchers and scientists shall be transmitted [to Congress] uncensored and without delay."

Bush's signing statement: The president can tell researchers to withhold any information from Congress if he decides its disclosure could impair foreign relations, national security, or the workings of the executive branch.

Dec. 23, 2004: Forbids US troops in Colombia from participating in any combat against rebels, except in cases of self-defense. Caps the number of US troops allowed in Colombia at 800.

Bush's signing statement: Only the president, as commander in chief, can place restrictions on the use of US armed forces, so the executive branch will construe the law ''as advisory in nature."*
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Not only has Bush eliminated the need for the messy veto, congressional mano a mano of confrontation, haggling and compromise, Bush has taken on the role of the nation's judiciary by deciding what is and isn't within his powers. And so increasingly unnecessary has it become, look for the total abolition of congress within the next year or two.

In Bush's own words, "it would be much easier if this was a dictatorship, as long as I get to be the dictator," wasn't just hyperbole, it was Bush's subtle way of hinting to us all what's gone down. We just thought he was kidding--in his usual "affable" way.

I'm amazed that the Founding Fathers didn't see how easy the potential for the total gutting of their supreme achievement, the Constitution, was. But perhaps what surprises me more is the fact a small band of pyschopathic renegade extremists like the Bush clowns didn't seize the power two hundred years ago.

Perhaps back then we could have survived the despotism and evolved beyond the police state from which we now reap the "benefits." Maybe, if this had happened sooner, we would now be closer to the true democracy we all claim to be, but in truth only covet in fantasy as we run away from it, light speed.

But today, Bush has cultivated a world that pretty much hates America universally and some of those nation states have nuclear weapons. It's gonna be a little trickier getting beyond this case of fascism than if we'd gotten this all behind us, say, back in the early 19th Century when the weapon of the day was the musket.

*Attribute: The Beast, "Top Ten Signs of the Impending U.S. Police State"

"People. People who need people, are the luckiest people in the world!"

Saturday we had guests over for dinner. It was during that most pleasant evening I revealed my idea for the founding of the charter chapter of Misanthropes in America (aka MIA's - not to be confused with those advocating for the still "Missing in Action" Veterans from the 1960's-70's Vietnam War. I hope they don't mind any confusion that may result, but seriously, after 35 years, if they haven't been found by now, how likely is it they ever will be?)

The basic tenet of Misanthropes in America is that Homo sapien is a failed species. In the brief span of 140,000 years since its emergence as a species, Homo sapien has managed to ascend to total global dominance through its development of technology in nuclear weaponry, biological weaponry, chemical weaponry and agriculture. In a wind tunnel of evolutionary expediency, the quickest in known history, Homo sapien now has the capability to destroy not only itself, but the whole freakin' Earth along with every other species as well. Holy shit, it may actually be--we've become gods!

And so, with such unmitigated power in our hands, it only seems natural to reject Homo sapien as a viable species, particularly in light of its disinclination to prevent its very own extinction. Truthfully, instead, Homo sapien seems hell bent on bringing it about! Thus, it is the intended goal, as stated in its charter, for Misanthropes in America to expedite the demise of the most dangerous species in the history of man "kind" and planet Earth as quickly as possible.

In order to assure the best chance for success of this group, the most important prerequisite for membership to Misanthropes in America is applicants must like people!

Winning the War on Terror

Just two items from today's "Democracy Now" with Amy Goodman:

"U.S. Embassy Memo Reveals Dire Situation in Baghdad

"An internal memo from the US embassy in Baghdad leaked to the Washington Post reveals that the situation in the Iraqi capital is far more dire than portrayed by the Bush administration. The memo mentions that one Arab newspaper editor is preparing an extensive study of how ethnic cleansing is now occurring in almost every Iraqi province. One Iraqi employee of the embassy said that he attends a funeral every evening. Neighborhoods in Baghdad are now mostly controlled by militias. Islamic groups are enforcing strict social codes. Women are increasingly being pressured to cover their faces. It is also now considered dangerous for men and children to wear shorts outside. Iraqis working in the U.S. embassy must now keep their place of work a secret even from their own family because anti-American sentiment is so high. For the past six months the embassy has been unable to call Iraqi workers at home or use them as translators for on-camera press events for their own safety. The memo from the U.S. embassy was sent to Washington last week ahead of President Bush’s visit to Baghdad.

"U.S. Launches Largest Offensive of Afghan War

"In Afghanistan, the U.S. military has launched its largest offensive since the fall of the Taliban in late 2001. More than ten thousand troops are spreading out over four southern provinces to fight the Taliban. Over the past month more than five hundred people have died in Afghanistan in some of the heaviest fighting of the war. Meanwhile the Washington Post is reporting the U.S. military has carried out 340 air strikes in Afghanistan over the past three months. That’s more than double the number of air strikes conducted in Iraq during the same period."

Mexican Peckers!

We're planning a return to family roots next month. What had been an annual reunion at the beach for a few days every July in the 90's somehow morphed into a "girl's only retreat" at the beach we had all once enjoyed. This happened around the turn of the century, and the sudden evolution from "family" reunion to "one-half-of-the-family" reunion without much, if any, input from the excluded half was a bit of surprise. Sadly.

Oh, I don't begrudge 'the girls' getting together, exclusive of us men, but in their doing so, it seemed to end the whole family reunion thing. And I thought we were all having so much fun back in the nineties. Maybe, if I researched this deeply enough, I could trace the roots of this revolt to George Bush. Bush does seem to be the source of most of the problems we presently 'enjoy', so I'm sure the "Great Uniter, Not A Divider" was probably somehow responsible.

But happily I report that after a couple of years of female exclusive beach retreats, the family seems to be returning as a unit. It began gradually, i.e., after a few days of "one-half-of-the-family" reunions by the girls, they let word out that the men would be welcomed on or after such and such a day. It was almost as if they had missed their husbands!

So what has any of this to do with today's topic, "Mexican Peckers" you might wonder? (Which you would be justified in asking.) Hardly anything. But my wife and I, having skipped the mutated, evolving reunions of the past 5 or 6 years are planning a return this summer. And therein lies the source of today's topic. For there are nieces and nephews that have done a lot growing up in the interceding years. There are ones we haven't even met yet. And it is with the little ones in mind, that I went shopping this morning on the web for ideas for some presents for these new and growing family members.

I haven't found anything for the nieces and nephews yet. But I did stumble across this intriguing little toy. It's made of cardboard and you assemble it with paste. Then you crank it and the parts move! I've never seen this before, but I thought it clever. Maybe not as a gift for our new nieces, but as a kind of gag gift for folks with very strong opinions on what is undoubtedly going to be one of the hot issues in the upcoming rigged elections this November.

And I thought this might be a cute gift for those folks willing to forgo such items in their diets as lettuce, strawberries, beef, pork and chicken, and ignore unmown lawns, unrepaired roofs and new housing developments left undeveloped for lack of laborers while cultivating nine foot fences and armed troops securing the borders 'neath unmanned surveillance blimps (perhaps eventually replaced with US military, missile equipped Predator drones like those in Iraq?).

It's just a little something they can put together in a few minutes and alleviate their anxieties and relieve their frustrations with until such time the new America is in place. They can crank up their little Mexican Peckers! toy. But just a word of caution. Take care with your passions. After all, it's only made of cardboard.

Autoerratica

"Autoerratica", ca. 1992, 32" X 44" oil on canvas

Today's been a nice day, but I haven't had time to blog. So I've decided to share the last painting I ever exhibited publicly over a decade ago. While I normally preferred to do portraits, for me this was a step outside of my 'comfort zone'. I needed to come up with something quick and this is what emerged on the canvas. I think I submitted it before the paint was totally dry.

It's my way of honoring the age of oil as it manifested in the 20th Century through these wonderful automobiles that contributed so much to our mobility, liberation and sexual freedom. Submitted to the art gallery with the title Autoerratica, I was amused when attending the opening reception to see it tagged Autoerotica, which was equally enticing I suppose.

Another new day in the New America! (Or, we get the government we deserve. Part 237)

Well, let's see. What's new in DC this week?

US deaths exceed 2,500 in Iraq. As white house press secretary, Tony Snow said, "It's a number" when asked about it by the WH press corps. Families with injured or killed victims of this war should feel comforted, however, as Snow went on to assure them president Bush, "feels very deeply the pain that the families feel." Oh, and don't forget, the 2,500 killed to date? "It's a number." Unless, of course, one of those "numbers" is a loved one, now deceased. But speaking of numbers....

What's your dead kid worth? Well, if s/he is an Iraqi child accidentally killed by the US military, your kid's worth $1,500.

I've seen images of war-torn Iraq and how ravaged and savaged their country is. How difficult and challenging it is to try to live through another day while dodging roadside IEDs, avoiding American troops who seem to attract 'em, or suicide bombers, or US military roadblocks or all out assaults on Ramadi.

But if you're a struggling Iraqi family without jobs, money, no electricity, water, or much shelter and you happen to have children, take heart. That's because you have a potential supplemental source of income. I can only imagine how tempting it must be suggest to little Ahmed that he go play outside in the US mindfield across the street.

But Dada doesn't mean to disparage the generosity of the US. when wondering if the tables were turned, and we were being occupied by a foreign invader and lost a child to their "friendly fire" indiscretions, how much we would be compensated for that child? Probably nothing. So see, $1500 seems more than fair, doesn't it?

(I'm not sure if $0.00 compensation for a US child would be testament to US generousity in Iraq, or the economic and moral poverty of our occupiers under similar circumstances, or just the worth of American kids. As always, debating economic and moral questions is something I try to avoid here.)

Closer to home, like "knock, knock, anybody home?" As we've heard, the supreme court ruled police with warrants no longer need knock before they come into your house. This is nice in that it provides consistency under the law. If president Bush wants to come in your house, he sure as hell doesn't have to knock, so why should the police?

Further protection from identity theft: Not to worry here, congress is "on it" for you. Take heart knowing that if your identity is stolen, congress has taken up this growing issue of concern of every American. There are several proposals before congress that, should you become a victim of identity theft, will strengthen ID theft protections--for banks, credit card cos. and credit reporting agencies while weakening yours!

In other words, agencies will no longer be required to notify you if they suspect your identity's been stolen and you will not be able to freeze your credit report information from intruders, thus enabling them to create new accounts in your name from which to drain your life's savings.

This will dove-tail nicely with the removal of last fall's bankruptcy protections taken from you. As one congressman was quoted by Mike Malloy last evening on his Air America radio show, "We must protect commerce." Obviously, without these safeguards in place, the entire economy could be at risk he said.

What can you do? Well, if you're the least discouraged by these latest contemplations by our government, you could always do as I plan to. Like today? Well, I'll be doing little odds and ends around the house like removing the front and back doors. Then I'll go online and post publicly my social security number, copy of my driver's license, and bank account & credit card numbers.

Please post in the comments section below if you have a need for some old, solid core, doors or used dead bolt locks.

The Apology...

Last Thursday, I reported in Easing back into the sleeze how encouraged I was at an L.A. indy media news story that reported efforts to raise sufficient funds to save the people's farm in South Central L.A. had apparently succeeded.

The story claimed the Annenberg Foundation would make an offer to Ralph Horowitz, owner of the 14 controversial acres, to purchase the land, thus preserving it as a place for people to grow and market the fruits of their labors from this precious piece of urban property.

But that wasn't exactly correct. The offer Annenberg Foundation made to owner Horowitz was about $6 million short of the $16.3 million asking price. For that, I'd like to apologize for taking on faith the L.A. indy media story that was a few details short on the truth. Namely, over six million little details in the form of dollars difference in offering vs. asking price.

As we all know from yesterday's news, activist actress Daryl Hannah and about 40 others were arrested during their forced eviction from this urban farm. As originally reported, I thought the issue might be resolved to the satisfaction of all concerned. This was the bit of good news that encouraged me to return to my blog after my mini self-imposed exile/escape for a day into the badlands of southern New Mexico.

Truthfully? The whole story did seem too good to be true. And as we learned yesterday, it was. And for that I'm sorry.

Glimpses of the future and neocon visions of sugarplum faeries

Is America Burning? ~ Dada

Last night before retiring, I read an article by Paul Craig Roberts entitled Nuking Iran. Roberts was Assistant Secretary of Treasury in the Reagan Administration. I was pretty sure by the title of his article I shouldn't be reading it, especially so close to lights out. I should probably have watched "Survivor" or "American Idol" instead, but I'm not sure if they were on. Besides, I guess I just like a challenge to a good night's sleep and "Nuking Iran" sounded disturbing enough to fill that bill.

In his article, Roberts talked about John Bolton, our ambassador to the United Nations. I'm sure most of you remember him. He's the guy that congress would not confirm for that job, so while congress was out of town, president Bush did what he norrmally does with anything he wants badly enough but is denied. He steals it. Thus, he gave Bolton the job through a "recess appointment."

Recess appointments illustrate a weakness in the laws that Bush exploits to cement his leadership against the will of the people. It's like the 750 times he's employed "signing statements" he's attached to some bill or other. Signing statements exclude the president from adhering to a bill he's just signed into law before cameras. It's the part he adds after the camera's are off, the ceremony's over and all the congress people have left the room that he adds to the bill exempting Bush from the law he's just signed into effect.

Well, as Roberts notes in his article, on June 9th Bolton told the Financial Times, "the Bush regime has no intention of reaching an agreement with Iran. Time is running out for diplomacy." It was at that point I wondered what the hell Bolton was talking about. If the global Bush bullies have already decided war with Iran is going down, who the fuck needs diplomacy, and of what value is time? If, as Bolton says, we have no intention of reaching an agreement with Iran, what the hell is he talking about? Is this just another public relations snow job we hope the world will swallow to show we went the extra mile to avoid war?

But according to Bolton, the decision to bomb Iran appears carved in stone. Following the same tack we took with Iraq, the Bush administration is now "greasing us" for the same thing in Iran. Only this time, Roberts' article assures us, we're going to use tactical nukes and he doesn't think the Japanese, having been the only other recipient's of our nuclear "diplomacy," will continue to float our huge debts by purchasing endless sums of our treasury bonds to support such hubris.

It was a short read, worthy of one's time. And surprisingly, it didn't affect my sleep! But I did awaken this morning thinking about it.

I began wondering if the horrendous hit the US stock market has taken in recent weeks is the beginning of the hit that seems inevitable when you finance your hubris and support your materialism by running up America's national credit card debt beyond all sustainable limits. Sooner or later, we're going to get called on it. Our supporters, out of fear of losing on the huge investments made to brace up our economy, are going to get real jittery, real fast. Maybe this latest stock market plunge presages that inevitability. Millions of Americans who faithfully sock away a portion of their paychecks into 401-K's and IRA's would be shocked to know how much the value of their thrift has been pummeled in recent weeks.

Or maybe this isn't the beginning of that. Not yet. Maybe it will take a nuclear detonation or two in Iran to finally shake our world backers into the realization that the US has finally crossed the line.

And then I read this morning's paper that had been lying out on the driveway just moments earlier. In the much anticipated World Cup Soccer tournament, the US had lost its opening game to The Czech Republic. Apparently we were embarrassed, losing 3-0. And I wondered if maybe we were humbled a little more often, perhaps we wouldn't be so damned audacious. Maybe we as a nation wouldn't be so easily capable of waging wars on others with little or no hint of sacrifice from ourselves. Maybe if made to sacrifice, to pay as we go for our policies of global hubris, we might not be quite so arrogant.

Later, as I was mowing the front yard, I thought about Pony, our greyhound whom we lost two weeks ago today. I looked into the window, to the low sill that always cradled her little face staring back at me as I worked just inches away outside. And for one of the rare moments since her departure, I was glad. Not just because her suffering had ended. But glad because she didn't know about, nor have to concern herself with the last days of the American Empire. And that made me happy. At the end, she had enough to concern herself with. She didn't need the arrogance of bullies like Bolton and Bush.

I remembered a scene from the movie, "Catch 22." It was a conversation between a young American World War II pilot, Nately, and an old Italian man in a whorehouse. And I thought about the US today in Afghanistan, and Iraq, and perhaps soon-to-be Iran. In the movie, the old Italian was trying to relate to the young American pilot who was part of the forces occupying the Italian's conquered homeland, that all wasn't quite as it seemed to its conquerors, the Americans.

It went something like this:

OLD MAN: 'America,' he said, 'will lose this war. And Italy will win it.'

NATELY: 'America is the strongest and most prosperous nation on earth. And the American fighting man is second to none.'

OLD MAN: 'Exactly. Italy on the other hand is one of the least prosperous nations on earth and the Italian fighting man is probably second to all. And that's exactly why my country is doing so well in this war and your country is doing so poorly.'

NATELY: 'I'm sorry I laughed at you, but Italy was being occupied by Germany and is now being occupied by us. You don't call that doing very well, do you?'

OLD MAN: 'But of course I do. The Germans are being driven out, but we are still here. In a few years you will be gone too, but we will still be here. You see, Italy is a very poor and weak country, and that's what makes us so strong....I call that doing extremely well. Yes, I am quite certain that Italy will survive this war and still be in existence long after your own country has been destroyed.'

Nately could scarcely believe his ears. He had never heard such shocking blasphemies before, and he wondered with instinctive logic why G-men did not appear to lock the traitorous old man up.

NATELY: 'America isn't going to be destroyed!' he shouted passionately.

OLD MAN: 'Never?' prodded the old man softly.

NATELY: 'Well...' Nately faltered.

The old man laughed indulgently, holding in check a deeper, more explosive delight. His goading remained gentle.

OLD MAN: 'Rome was destroyed, Greece was destroyed, Persia was destroyed, Spain was destroyed. All great countries are destroyed. Why not yours? How much longer do you really think your own country will last? Forever? Keep in mind the earth itself is destined to be destroyed by the sun in twenty-five million years or so.'

But remembering those lines from Catch 22, I then thought of Noam Chomsky's latest book, Failed States : The Abuse of Power and the Assault on Democracy wherein Chomsky delineates our failings while continuing to maintain our "right" to intervene in the affairs of other's while our own nation is crumbling.

And with the anniversary of our birth, the Fourth of July, still more than a couple weeks away, and the House just today tossing another $66 billion dollars we don't have on the flames of war in Iraq and Afghanistan, one has to wonder if America hasn't lit its own fuse to the real fireworks that lie just ahead.

Another restless night...

Maybe the reason I don't sleep well at night is the fact the last thing I see and hear on the little TV screen in the bedroom at the close of each day is the 'news'. This insomnia has been going on for almost six years now, beginning right after the Republican National Convention nominated George W. Bush the summer of 2000.

Living in Texas under his governorship, it was difficult to stop laughing the first few weeks. I figured if that was the best the GOP could offer the nation, and if the nation was dumb enough to buy it--which would never happen--but if it did, we'd at least be rid of the joke that had been our governor the past six years. The joke would be on the nation instead, not just us Texans! And watching coverage of the campaign on that little screen at the end of each day that fall, it became evident very soon that something very strange was afoot.

We learned Gore was a joke. He believed in global warming. This from a delusionary who "invented the internet," the little TV continually reminded us that fall. And in those post~debate coverages, heaps of praise were piled on Bush because, for an idiot, he didn't screw up too badly like everyone was expecting him to! In fact, the press told us how he'd won those debates because Bush's bumbling and stumbling, mutterings and stutterings, instead of detracting from his candidacy, actually enhanced it! A bond was formed between The Idiot candidate and the nation's idiot viewers.

George Bush was a good ol' boy. One you'd invite over to your patio for a barbeque and beer. But as I heard Martin Short say on the radio over the weekend, when you board an airplane, you expect your pilot to be the best damn pilot he can be. Same when choosing your brain surgeon, pre-op. You choose people you assume are very competent at what they do, not because they're likeable enough to invite over to the house.

So why in the hell would any sane American want a bumbling, self-humbling good ol' boy leading the world's strongest military? And most of all, who'd invite a joker like Bush over for a barbeque on their back patio? (Frankly, I suspected the thought of George Bush just knowing where you live would be enough to scare the hell out of all Americans.)

But we didn't know that then. That was before we got acquainted. Before all those photo-ops like him with one arm around a fireman, the other holding a bullhorn atop a rubble heap, or the one of him on a carrier deck embracing 5,000 sailors, or hugging a national guardsman in front of a New Orleans post-Katrina backdrop, or a black girl in front of her flattened Mississippi neighborhood. It was an easy leap from those disturbing pics to Bush on my patio with his unwiped barbeque sauced hand around my neck, complimenting me on the ribs with which "You did a heckuva job!" (Talk about jolting one from a night's sleep.)

Well, the fall of 2000's long since behind us and what looked like a very funny joke to me at first, soon saw my sleep pattern deteriorating into full-blown insomnia. The laughter faded. And like I said, it's been almost six long years of this. Reading up on sleep loss, relaxation techniques are suggested. Things like deep breathing exercises, or an election held without Diebold computers tabulating the results. But I don't suspect either of those will really change things anytime soon.

And so, when I awoke in the middle of the night in a cold sweat around 3:00 this morning, I knew it had happened again. The last thing I remember of the nightmare was the front door to my house being knocked in by an uninvited platoon of storm troopers sporting night vision goggles and M-16's.

Then I remembered the last thing I saw on TV before going to sleep. It was just a small story of "Texas National Guardsmen are training for urban warfare this week in Austin, Texas." It explained how preparedness is the key to responding quickly to the next terrorist attack on US soil. It was then images of the indiscrimminate destruction of Fallujah flashed across my mind just before I had drifted off.

I guess that's why I awoke in the middle of last night sensing the impending Ramadification of my hometown of El Paso. Of door to door combat on my block. Of peering up at the small end of an M-16. Of seeing emblazoned on my intruder's shoulders the insignias of the Texas National Guard and not feeling safer, but very eerily like an frightened Iraqi.

And I rued how back in 2000 republicans hadn't sought out someone qualified to do the job of president based on his experience. Not someone you'd invite over to the house because of his "charisma".

We're screwed, we're so totally screwed!

I'm working on a blog based on a couple of very long-term studies undertaken many years ago. It began with observations of 4 year olds that then gather data on them 30-40 years later and draws some conclusions based on the original observations of them in day care/nursery school situations versus how they turned out as adults. And while it's initial purpose was totally apolitical, there are conclusions drawn from these kids, now grown, that may be surprising to some, or affirming of the suspicions of others.

But more on that, hopefully, tomorrow. It's going to take a little more time/effort than I have to complete it this evening.

What I'd like to share, however, with anyone reading this, this evening, is a link to a very short video of one of Jack Cafferty's commentaries on Wolf Blitzer's show on CNN. It strikes me that Cafferty is visionary, while Blitzer is blind. It makes for excellent contrast, but not great compatibility.

Anyway, it's a very brief 90 second segment on Blitzer's show, but it's message continues to roll over and over in my head. Basically, "we're all screwed."

The shock of this realization is, our screwing isn't coming from the likes of Russia, China, or some mid-Eastern terrorists. No, it's coming from our own soil in the likes of Big Dick Cheney, Alberto Gonzales, Condi 'oil tanker' Rice and Rumsfeld. (Oh, and our very own fuckin' representatives in congress--did I mention how much I love our representatives in congress?)

Jack Cafferty is equally outraged by this and he expresses it in this segment of Wolf Blitzer's show, whatever it's name. (I don't watch it.)

It's only 90 seconds of forever outrage (scroll down to The Cafferty File, "NSA Compromise?".)

Dada would like to thank an old political chat room friend, Bush Basher 5, for this link.

Quote of the day

The Republicans are worried about the flag, gay marriage and the terrible burden of the estate tax on the rich. The rest of us are obviously unnecessarily worried about war, peace, the economy, the environment and civilization. Another reason to vote Republican -- they have a shorter list. ~ so said Molly Ivins earlier this week

Okay, okay.....I've been trying to evolve this long, long page (now over a year in length) into a kinder, gentler blog recently by sharing some pretty pictures and little anecdotes to go with them.

But as reminder of why I began doing this, I have to backslide a moment because of the dismal failures (legislatively) of Republican's most successful efforts to (morally) raise the bar for all of us. From the failure of two of their three 2006 reelection issues that are so germaine to the preservation of the Union (and their reelections in the fall), I feel compelled to speak out.

At least by taking a vote on the gay issue and the estate tax of richer Americans--even though they failed--we now have a list of those homosexual loving bastards who approve of gays and lesbians enjoying the same rights as heterosexuals, plus senators who placed the interests of their poor trashy asshole constituents who disapprove of rich people being sheltered from paying taxes just like their corporations they run offshore. We now know who they are!

So while those votes may have failed (again), we've identified the bastards who, in Molly Ivins words, are more "worried about war, peace, the economy, the environment and civilization."

But I kinda feel for these poor right-wing sleezy bastards who raise the same issues every election and can't get 'em passed. (Oh sure, I suppose there's a little bit of tongue in my cheek here. So let me remove it, after all, this is all done with serious calculation on Republican's part.)

By recording those pro-gay, anti-rich, flag burning sons of bitches for the public record, conservatives can now campaign against those who would destroy America. It's debate worthy of highest priority. Never mind Carlos E. Pernell, 25, of Munford, Ala., Andy D. Anderson, 24, of Falls Church, Va., Luis D. Santos, just 20, of Rialto, Calif. and hosts of others along with nameless Iraqi civilians passed from the living onto the endless list of history's annals as mere statistical footnotes as these issues are debated.

So now it's on to that burning issue of burning flags. As Molly Ivins reminds us, "there was one flag burned in 2005 by a drunken teenager and one by a protester in California in 2002". Holy hell! No wonder the nation's survival is being shaken to its very foundations with this kind of subversive shit going on.

But should representatives fail to procure an amendment to our constitution protecting us from these out of control atrocities, there's other burning issues on the back burners that can be brought to the forefront.

Let's not forget the hell that will rain down on the nation if those left wing Commies challenge every Americans right to own an Uzi or AK-47.

Or holy shit! What if we permit kids to practice birth control other than "abstinence." You know, abstinence, right kids? It's that 100% sure birth control sex method none of its today's advocates were able to practice in their own hormone charged youths.

These hot issues inciting fears of the gullibles that American society is on the verge of collapse are probably sufficient to retain the status quo in the November elections. Think of it as insurance, along with a little help from purged voting rolls and those ingenious Diebold voting machines.

America may well be a nation on the verge of collapse. But it won't come at the hands of married gay couples, flag burners, or folks who think rich Americans ought to pay their way--or more--just like the poorest among us. No, it will likely come from little things. The little things that don't get a hearing in the seat of government in DC. Little things like wars, a bankrupted treasury and the dismantling of our constitution. Little things our government distracts us from with those hot issues like flag burning.

Taos bound!

Rio Grande gorge, Taos, New Mexico

Well, how exciting! Yesterday we made reservations for Taos at the end of the month. I'd hope to go a bit sooner, but in the words of a local Taoseno who maintains a residence there (Don Rumsfeld), "You don't always go to Taos with the reservations you want, sometimes you have to go to Taos with the reservations you have." Wise words. Besides, by going a little later, we'll be able to savor the thought of it longer.

And now we're hearing talk of Cindy Sheehan being in the Santa Fe/Taos area the first weekend of August. Oh gee, darn, we may have to go back in August!

Easing back into the sleeze

I didn't blog yesterday. Why? Because after our little out of town jaunt to "Out of the Way" earlier this week, it's difficult to return to those beauty queens of conservatism Michelle Malkin and Ann Coulter gracing the pages of the local newspaper. Trying to get back in the groove after Monday's respite from it all is difficult at best. Extremely difficult at worst.

As Malkin said in a column in yesterday's paper of us against her war, "There are countless numbers of anti-war zealots on the American Left rooting for failure...They've blindly embraced frauds who've lied about their military service...," (forgetting the military record of her own commander-in-chief warrior-king who is making us safe from terrorists as he creates 'em faster than he can kill 'em).

And Coulter must be laughing all the way to the bank as thousands of additional books are sold by inanities muttered to any member of the media (or the likes of Hillary Clinton) who engage her with the time of day. Of 9/11 widows she says, "These broads are millionaires, lionized on TV and in articles about them, reveling in their status as celebrities...I have never seen people enjoying their husband’s death so much." She's equally critical of Cindy Sheehan and any other mother of a child killed in Iraq who questions her war.

And then there was the question I overheard by a CNN Headline News anchor posed to a reporter in the wake of the Haditha investigation of the marine's alleged slaughter of innocent children and adults. He asked how many times this reporter could continue to ask tough questions and write harsh critiques of the military before the Pentagon stops cooperating with him?!

Obviously that CNN anchor is from the new school of journalism (as promoted by his employer, CNN) where it's a reporter's job to just sleep with the Pentagon, but not "screw it" (with the truth).

And so it was that I was unable to find the inspiration; to think of anything to say yesterday. Instead, I took shelter in the comfort of Monday's travels.

Back to a place fronting the main street of Tularosa, where there's a rickety fence with a gap that once was a gate. And there's a worn path that breaks ranks with the sidewalk of Granado Street and makes a run for it through this gateless gap. And that's where I took shelter for a time. At the top of aging stairs secured with rusting nails. Through a door where there's a small apartment with windows opened wide and curtains flapping in a gentle breeze. It's so removed from the 'Main Drag'of USA.

But this morning, I eased back down those stairs, encouraged by an L.A. indy media news story of a people's farm in South Central L.A. (see needy vs. greedy) that through a campaign for public awareness and ensuing generous donations, The Annenberg Foundation announced it had made an offer to developer Ralph Horowitz to buy the 14 acres at the price he was asking! (They await his response.)

I guess it's the tidbits like those that keep me poking my head outside each morning in search of good news. To venture back on Main Street despite the queens of conservatism hawking their wares, soliciting their johns.

Some pics from yesterday's little jaunt.

(Preamble to today's blog: Very pleased with the new Honda. Filled up the Civic before our jaunt yesterday. Put 196 miles on it. Filled up upon return. MPG = 43.28 highway!)

Yesterday's trip to Alamogordo was great! Actually, we didn't really go to Alamogordo. (I lied.) I was really more interested in the little town of Tularosa about 12 miles north of Alamogordo. And with the exception of this one last time, I think that's the last mention I'll make of Alamogordo in today's blog.

This is a picture of the old main street of Tularosa. Except instead of Main, it's called Granado Street. And that's a picture of the only car on Granado Street. Oh, as we walked the length of both sides of Granado, a truck did pull up in front of the Western Auto store for a few minutes. Their only customer, I imagined he just needed a box of nails or something. Something small, because he didn't come out of there with that shiny red Radio Flyer wagon I had stopped to admire in their window.

That's the Western Auto on the far right of this picture. Most of the stores are closed down. A couple are trying to make a go of it, like a little coffee shop which was closed when we were there. And the Horse Feathers store in this picture? I have no idea what they sold in there, but I doubt it was real horse feathers.

As I walked the length of Granado Street past the deserted stores, I felt eerily like Marshal Will Kane at 11:58 a.m. from the movie High Noon. Other than the man who was foolhardy enough to go into the Western Auto store down the street for a few minutes, we saw absolutely no one. Even so, I think he was out of there before the church bell further down the street struck twelve.

Of all the little stores, this one was my very favorite. Actually, "little" is a misnomer. The Grocery Store is the biggest store on the street. I have an affinity for paintings on the outsides of buildings and I studied this one for awhile because the man frozen in oils there bore a striking resemblence to Pancho Villa. But what was really quaint about The Grocery Store, besides the fact it has no roof, was the tree growing up in the middle of it inside; right around aisle five. That'd be where they probably sold Scott's Miracle Gro potting soil and plant foods.

I don't mean to give the wrong impression of Tularosa. It's a very intriguing community. In the middle of this vast desert valley and just a few miles east of gorgeous White Sands National Monument made of pure gypsum, Tularosa is an absolute lush oasis! It must be sitting on top of an undergroud lake or something to be so incredibly green and shady.

And unlike the impression these pictures of Granada Street may give, US 70, the highway which passes through on its way to the mountains and Roswell of UFO fame beyond, Tularosa has a number of thriving little business along it. And, there's a Wal-Mart just ten miles down the road in Alamogordo. Whoops! Dang, I said I wasn't gonna mention that place again.

The long and winding blog

"I have always lived violently, drunk hugely, eaten too much or not at all, slept around the clock or missed two nights of sleeping, worked too hard and too long in glory, or slobbed for a time in utter laziness. I've lifted, pulled, chopped, climbed, made love with joy and taken my hangovers as a consequence, not as a punishment." (John Steinbeck, Travels With Charley)

In the spirit Jack Kerouac's On the Road or Charles Kuralt's travelogs, we're heading out on a one day mini-trip after breakfast. Not to see the likes of Chicago's "hootchy kootchy joints" as described by Kerouac. No, today is a kind of warm-up run for bigger things to come down the road as summer begins unfolding soon.

No, no encounters with hootchy-kootchy girls or boppy jazz joints today. Instead, we're heading for Alamogordo, New Mexico. About 80 miles up the road, Alamogordo's brightest hour came in the riotous pre-dawn nucleonic moment of July 16, 1945. That was the morning a mysterious blossom unexpectedly sprung from the desert floor just west of that sleepy little town reminiscent of some 50's black and white movie shot on the cheap.

And as suddenly as the first atom bomb sprouted and bloomed, it just as suddenly faded and died, leaving its withered flower to drop its dying petals across the once more peaceful, still slumbering landscape.

In driving there, I do so in the spirit of "thinking I will find something wonderful just around the next bend," ala Charles Kuralt's travels.

I had not intended to blog this morning, but after the way the day "blossomed" for me on the web, I felt very sullied. Hence the need to blog, as a cathartic effort in response to internet encounters that made me feel like some sleezy Hollywood gossip queen digging for dirt.

As most of us know, the president will buy free air time tonight to tell the nation once more of his support for the sanctity of marriage as expressed in the senate's Defense of Marriage Act that would amend our constitution against the onslaught of gays and lesbians so threatening the American way of life.

DOMA doesn't have a prayer in hell of passing as CNN tells us. It's just an election year ploy to get American's homophobic minds off their stagnating economy, bankrupted treasury, the war, illegal spying, illegal torturing, and other minor issues like disappearing jobs and pensions and insurances of all kinds that cost more and more but insure less and less.

You know what I'm talking about, from homeowners insurance against hurricane damage that is denied because it doesn't cover damage by wind, or maybe by water, or maybe both. Of insurance companies, and not your doctors, deciding what medical procedures are warranted, allowed, or will be reimbursed. Or simply cancelling your insurance if you have the fucking audacity to get sick, have an accident and submit a claim. That's because in the ultimate capitalist society, insurance is unaffordably expensive yet pays nothing to its insureds. Everything's excluded, just don't miss a premium or you're cancelled.

And industry will regulate itself, much like Worldcom, Exxon, Tyco, Enron if we only let it. And if we won't, they'll just take over the government. (FLASH! They already have.) No wonder any cure for cancer would be suppressed. There's too much money to be made draining people's life's savings from them before they die. And where's the incentive to cut back on oil consumption and diminish the onslaught of global warming? Ask Exxon or Condi Rice's old employer, Chevron. But I digress, don't I? That's why I need to get the hell outta Dodge today.

And in the vein of Bush's defense of marriage tonight, there are stories circulating around. Stuff like our secretary of state oil tanker, Condoleezza Rice in April '04 exposing her Freudian slip by referring to president Bush as her husband. It's taken on new significance in light of the rumor circulating that Laura left the white house for at least one night last week because of her disgust with the ongoing Bush-Condi relationship.

And from there things really went downhill. I'm going to spare you the even far more sordid details. Why make you feel as dirty as I'm feeling right now? Why make you feel, as I, some need to get out of town, run away from yourself in an effort to find yourself.

But on the rumors of the Bush affair, I read one commenter say if we could just get Bush to now say under oath he's not boinking Condi (and if it turns out he is), we can hire a Ken Starr-like prosecutor, spend $50-60 million and impeach that son of a bitch. That's just wishful thinking, of course, because as we remember from the congressional 9/11 inquiry, Bush is smarter than that. He never testifies to anything under oath. Bush is above oaths.

But tonight he'll remind us how he supports the sanctity of marriage. And if I'm lucky, really lucky, I'll still be somewhere between home and New Mexico. Because after my readings this morning, I really feel cheap, really dirty. And I really need to get out of town. And while I hadn't intended to post this morning before leaving,I do so as a kind of mind purgative.

Perhaps as Steinbeck reminds in his Travels With Charley, "One goes, not to much to see but to tell afterward." In that spirit I venture forth. To escape. To perhaps tell afterward.

"Nothing's written in stone!" (Or is it?)

Robert Benten, Univ. of Missouri. Oldest known North American happy "frowny" face.

I love archeology. One never knows what those anthropologists of antiquity will uncover next, extending further back in time our understanding of modern man's ancestry. I dug this up over at Nona's Fish Wars on Cars.

Unearthed by Robert Benten from the University of Missouri is this remarkably well preserved sculpture which, from radiocarbon dating of "stuff" found in an offering pit nearby, dates it back to 2200 BC. It adorns a temple used as celestial observatory. The remarkable thing about this discovery is it pushs back--by thousands of years--the first known evidence of the "happy face"!

Originally the happy face was thought to originate at the hands of graphic designer Harvey Ball, who after his death in 2001 was radiocarbon dated back to 1922. But his actual creation didn't occur until an early 1960's session to which he devoted a total of about 10 minutes. It was meant to improve morale of the State Mutual Life Insurance Company employees after a particularly nasty merger had left many with a bitter company aftertaste in their mouths . And while the infectious image didn't catch on publicly for another ten years, by the early 70's an estimated 50 million happy face buttons had been stamped out.

Happy "smiley" faced T-shirts and stickers soon followed, making testament to the rest of the world America was definitely a place to be envied by everyone everywhere as best defined by this ubiquitous icon. It also had the benefit of helping the nation through the difficult overlapping last years of the Nixon and Vietnam war eras. It's timing couldn't have better!

Some years afterwards (many attribute it to Reagan's ascension and/or his ensuing Iran-Contra period) there appeared the first known "frowny" faces. It is thought these phenomena would have died then, buried by time, much as the latest one discovered in Peru from over 4,000 years ago, but with the advent of computers for the masses, smiley faces experienced a tremendous ressurection, assuming a whole gamut of expressions. From happy, to frowning, sad, angry, enamored, etc. There was an expression for every occasion. As a result, these little icons of emotions became known as "emoticons".

But with this latest discovery in Peru, we now realize Harvey Ball's creation, which netted him $45 while enriching entrepreneurs by millions, was predated by millenia. And while there exists evidence in other archeological finds of smiley faces, there is no sign the fad ever caught on in antiquity as it has today.

There are probably a number of good reasons for that. Foremost is the length of time required to manifest one's mood into reality through the medium of stone. It took a long time. Estimates are somewhere between 8-11 months.

It's difficult to be in a happy, or in this case, frowny mood for such a long, continuous period of time. Oh, there are contemporary cases that such extended anger, depression or extreme bitchiness do exist. Condoleezza Rice, Don Rumsfeld and Dick Cheney are but three examples. But these are pathological manifestations rather than the more normal passing moods experienced by the majority of mentally healthy people.

But it is possible whoever created this ancient frowny face was simply having a very bad year. Or maybe he sensed his society would become extinct and buried beneath the sands of time for thousands of years! (Dada suspects a revival of just such an emotion may exist in the United States today.)

And then there was the question of sending these things to others. While it is unknown if ancient man had post offices, the weight of such icons would have added significantly to the cost of postage if he did. The whole process could have saved senders much expense of time--and stamps--if persons so damned happy or upset, just walked themselves to the next village and smiled or frowned in person for the intended recipient of such emotions.

But that's not really the point. The real significance of these types of anthropological discoveries is they extend our knowledge of our past and our ancestors who delivered us here. Unlike the prevalent tendency to assign to our forebears images of naked, grunting, cave-people eating raw meat with greasy fingers in blood stained animal skins because they had no napkins, we learn they were in fact highly organized, intelligent members of rather complex societies.

Thousands of years from now, our little smiling and crying faced emoticon buttons, stickers and t-shirts will have long returned to the earth as worm food. Perhaps because of the incredible hubris of our nuclear war flirtations with self-annihilation, or maybe due to our choice to ignore the dire implications of global warming. Or perhaps because one day God, contemplating man, simply concluded, "Oh shit, I really screwed up with this one!"

But for those who follow, be they some mankind succeeding variety of slime mold of this Earth, or beings from a planet in some distant galaxy, there will likely remain a "cave-man's" frowny faced happy face because he was having a really bad year. Or, maybe, who knows, he forsaw the entire future of mankind!

It's only words

I love the way language can be used to 'reconstruct' awkward realities. Like putting lipstick on a pig. I encountered a beautiful example of this yesterday when the alleged atrocities committed by U.S. Marines in Haditha necessitated that Maj. General William Caldwell get up and serve as makeover artist by telling the media what the military is going to do to keep the future number of innocent Iraqi civilians slaughtered to a minimum. Some sort of remediation of values for our troops seems in order. And here's the lipstick as Caldwell applied it: He said our military is there "as guests of the Iraqi government."

What the fuck? I suppose we, as "guests of the Iraqi government" is just another example of good military lingo. Like "collateral damage" which translated means, "Oh shit, we slaughtered innocent kids and women again. Damn!" Such is the nature of the military's "precision bombing" doublespeak, using language to tidy up a messy situation. A kind of minor distortion of major proportions.

From what I gather, the Iraqis are surprised at US reaction to Haditha. Apparently, they don't understand all the fuss about an incident like Haditha's which is far more common than reported.

The ado back here in the States is apparently because we really bungled this one, i.e., we got caught, and badly. But when "guests" are slaughtering their "hosts", isn't it time to just pack the hell up and get our butts home? Just what the hell is being accomplished by staying on any longer? Will our military only be satisfied in Iraq (much like Bush in America), after every last citizen hates us (or him)?

But I digress, this isn't what I want to talk about in this blog. In fact, so far, what I've said has little to do with what I really want to present today. And yet, in a way, it has much to do with what follows. And how's that? Well, just as we tweak language to sugarcoat truth, what follows is one mom's warning to every mother's son or daughter to beware. Candy coating the bill of goods we're sold as truth doesn't just happen after the fact, it's part of the pre-sales spiel given our kids as well.

And I'd like to share what this friend has to say. The mother of three, she has a son currently serving as member of the United States Marine Corps who's done a tour in our newest member of the empire, Iraq. Having been back for a number of months now, he is undoubtedly at risk of getting his name on every Pentagon reassignment list that comes down next seeking replacements for those serving in the seat of civilization.

What follows are a few things to contemplate by anyone perhaps just coming out of school and thinking of a way to earn a living, maybe save up for further education, or find a career. These are the uncoated words from an agonizing mom as written over Memorial Day weekend after spending four and one half hours reading the names and viewing the photos of each and every service person who's been added to a growing wall honoring those who have been sacrificed to this war.

Here then, in her own words, are the thoughts of a soldier's mom to those sons and daughters contemplating a similar path.

~~~~~

Momma gets it!

Think about it for a minute...In a lifetime, how many times do we aspire to sharing our heart beat with an-'other'?

Every time we consider LOVE?

And in reality, how many times do we ACTUALLY get to share our heart beat with another? It is a rare 9 month engagement...only with our Mother, and if we are fortunate enough to be born in a woman's body and give birth, with our children.

These are actual, true events. Otherwise, it is an ideal we aspire to.

You might want to consider that your mom really loves you and has your best interest in heart.

Here is just one way of looking at it...

When our children become 'grown ups', and surrender their egos to the collective, in SERVICE, we may rejoice at their choice to consider a bigger picture. We readily acknowledge their intention to embrace more.

There is a loyalty factor here that we can be proud of. These offspring care for others, beyond their own personal comfort and well being. I personally appreciate those positive intentions, and unfortunately, I simultaneously recognize when those intentions and values are being exploited to serve greed and power.

Nevertheless, the same Mom's perspective readily recognizes that our kids crave the 'right of passage' ritual that will launch them from boy to man, or girl to woman. Oh, if only those aspirations could truly be met through the lies of the recruiters. (Sorry guys, I know you have a quota to meet to provide for your families and insure your promotions, but I must speak my mind here.)

You know that contract they offer doesn't really mean anything anymore...even in a court of law. There are some loopholes in there, if you look closely. You "serve" at the beck and call of your commander in chief. INDEFINITELY. If he decides that the "War on Terror" should last a lifetime, or two, or three, YOU are committed, even when the five years you committed to are finished.

You may be thinking that you can put up with anything, for a couple of years, to get back into college and pay off your student loans from the year you spent partying at the frat house..

Think again.

Even though it is an "all volunteer force", you are not allowed to UN-volunteer once you have figured out the details and changed your mind about aligning with this institution.

They may train you for a MOS (Military Occupational Specialty) that you never get to use because you get killed by an IED (improvised explosive device) while filling the role where they need you right now.

Guard, Reserve, or active duty, enlisted or officer. Makes no difference. You serve at the whim of the civilian leaders, whether you agree with their intentions, or not. Some of those civilian leaders (and many civilian Americans who elect them) haven't a clue. They've never been in the military. They have NO FRAME OF REFERENCE.

The potential for "the ultimate sacrifice" is only an abstract phrase to them. It may be to you as well. But believe me, it is NOT abstract to your mother!

If you join the military, you are required to take an oath to protect our constitution, and you would likely feel good when doing so. I would too. But, you know what? They can play games in the courts that tromp all over that same constitution that you have vowed to protect. Sadly, even when you continue to uphold your end of the agreement, they may not.

And because you have signed that contract, you are not allowed to dissent from the going perspective. "Stay the course". "Sir, no sir". You can be court martialed for expressing a (any) political point of view in public. You might even be accused of sedition.

Scary, huh?

I fully honor the heartfelt intentions to be of service to mankind, to something greater than oneself. But PLEASE, think twice, before you sign that page once. Not everyone in this world holds the purity of our high ideals for humanity.

Talk to some VETS, and take a lawyer with you, if you must consider the military option. And, if at all possible, consider what war might mean to your soul. The potential for irreversible wounds is far deeper than you may currently realize.

It's all fun and games till somebody puts an eye out.

"In another land, dut da dah!" .... or, our "Image of the Day"

Image from fear of clowns

Today's "Image of the Day" comes from a parallel Universe just three doors down from our own. It's a matriarchal Universe and there exists therein a small speck of a planet where the followers of the prevalent religion consider themselves "Kristins".

Named for their savior, it's a world devoid of war, which I suppose is good. But Kristins suffer--much as all religions universally--from extremist elements on their fanatical fringe.

While often accused of suppressing open and free thinking among adherents, they are also credited with the peace enjoyed by citizens of their planet. It is thought this stems from the universally implicit threat to any male child or man caught playing with plastic toy soldiers, tanks, or possessing models of F-16's, who play with their missiles, or who are caught enjoying video war games or with "Soldier of Fortune" magazines under their mattresses. Such discoveries are dealt with by harsh retributions. Castration!

While seemingly extreme, one must admit there are currently no innocent men, women, children born--or unborn--being slaughtered needlessly anywhere in Kristindom. That's because there are no Kristin priestesses advocating the compassionate massacres of non-Kristins in the name of Kristin's mother, "Goddess."

Late Post. Can you tell I miss my editor?

I enjoyed watching the Dixie Chicks on Larry King last night. One of the high points for me was when someone called in asking how the group feels, three years later, with president Bush's approval ratings in the toilet. Natalie Maines, referring to Bush's 70% disapproval rating said she didn't take particular pleasure in that because of the Bush agenda that has created such disapproval among the public. King corrected her by saying Bush's disapproval rating was more like 60% instead of 70%. Maines didn't let that go by. She immediately confessed her 70% Bush disapproval rating was conservative. "It's more like 72%," she retorted. Dada says, "Kick ass, Natalie!"

But the American experiment with democracy is truly dead. Why? Because, despite Bush's 70-72% public disapproval (or as King interjected and claimed--only 60% disapproval--like that's somehow more acceptable?!--serving as example of the media slaves that King so subserviently exemplifies, i.e., under great pressure to continually mollify or suck the asses of his employer to keep his job by filing down difficult statistics which reflect disapproval of Bush and the corporate shills who support him by employing the likes of King), it doesn't matter. You, I, and 210 million other Americans can't do shit about it. Bush and Cheney are still in charge, still killing women, babies and unborns in Iraq in our names!

And I've just spent the last half hour reading the reactions to the Dixie Chicks last night on Larry King. Apparently, many of the remaining minority love to read, then quote, Bill O'Reilly* and Matt Drudge. And they are the 28-30% of Americans who are so bought into Bush's bullshit of fear, so fucking afraid, that they can't kill enough Iraqi kids or spill enough blood of innocent men and women to calm their panic stricken bloodlust for more.

America has become a nation, not of majority rule, but guided by a small minority of fearful chickenshitwarhawks using the support of their religious zealots to advance and enrich the greed driven likes of our executives, corrupt congress and the supporting cast of an increasingly conservative judiciary that has seized control of the government in the guise of constitutional preservationists as they proceed to dismantle the nation for their own purposes.

If I'm a little more demonstrative than usual today, I apologize. I suppose it's reaction to the, what I see as the unsustainable, pigheadedness of the 28 percent who continue to support the total destruction of the nation in the name of fear, Jesus, democracy, freedom, or just pure gluttonous greed.

But I get continuous reminders from others, those in the majority, like the e-mail I received from Code Pink today. While a tremendous supporter, I am not optimistic because somehow there still exists among many some unfounded faith in hope that this year the voting machines will work; this year they will reflect the real will of the majority. This after the system in which we still place our faith has screwed us all the past two presidential elections.

In the congressional elections now upcoming this November, more than ever, it has become imperative to those in power that their control be maintained, lest those in power become those impeached and eventually those tried, convicted and imprisioned for committing the same crimes Saddam Hussein is currently on trial for in Iraq--retaliations against innocent people.

But to quote from today's Code Pink letter:

"Dear Dada,

"The intrepid Molly Ivins recently wrote that she was fed up with 'every calculating, equivocating, triangulating, straddling, hair-splitting son of a bitch' in Washington DC. 'This is not a time for a candidate who will offend no one,' Molly proclaimed. 'It is time for a candidate who takes clear stands and kicks ass.'

Amen. If only I could trust the faith in the machines that tally the will of America. Personally, I don't.

*NOTE: An illustration of how full of shit Bill O'Reilly is was given on Olbermann's MSNBC "Countdown" tonight. With total disregard to facts or history, O'Reilly used the WWII American slaughter of German soldiers at Malmedy as the always-bound-to -occur war atrocities example committed by US troops to justify the American slaughter of innocent civilians and children by the US military in My Lai, Vietnam as well as the current slaughter under investigation in Haditha, Iraq.

But the sad truth is O'Reilly got it backwards. It wasn't American troops who slaughtered unarmed and surrendered German soldiers, it was the other way around. At least 72 American soldiers were slaughtered in cold blood at Malmedy by the Germans. A minor misstatement of historical fact by O'Reilly. But when it comes to appealing to the small minority who remain staid in their undying support of Bush, facts for O'Reilly will always take a backseat.