A City of Rocks beneath which to bury the stone-hearted

OK, I confess: This picture was taken in a place called "The City of Rocks" located somewhere between Deming and Silver City, NM. There's nothing out there but rocks and this windmill.

While it doesn't begin to capture the eerieness of the rock formations jutting above the sandy desert floor, one can get a fairly creepy feeling, walking among these granite behemoths, especially if you're the only ones there at the time (as was the case the day Mrs. Dada and I visited).

But the real reason I chose to post this picture was to push that god-awful, scarier-than-shit photo of the previous blog entry down the page. While it was a photo to remind anyone seeing it to "be afraid, be very afraid," the last thing I intended was for people to be overcome with repulsion, get sick and/or soil themselves.

Having said that, let me add I don't attack people based on their appearance. No, my extreme disgust at the frightening image of our oil tanker secretary of state is the result of what that person has come to represent, of the evil I see in all images of her. For it is she who has chosen to impale herself on the policies of a president she (still!) feels history will vindicate; she who advocated for those policies of that president, the victims of whom now number in the millions of people, the majority women and children. Whoops, but I digress, don't I?

At least her image is now down the page, buried just beneath this City of Rocks. And that was the purpose posting it here this morning.