My trip to The Market

Last week Mrs. Dada and I went to "The Market" in El Paso's Lower Valley. It was our first time there -- ever. We took a few pictures.

The morning began with a beautiful sunrise in the hood. Little did we know this would be an excellent day for a ride. That's because remnants of hurricane Dolly would blot out most of the sun for the next 3 or 4 very soggy days.

On the way to The Market, we stopped a few minutes at the Ysleta Mission. It's one of three missions established by New World Spaniards in the El Paso area after the revolt by Pueblo Indians routed the Spanish from New Mexico in 1680.

Photogenic, save for its garish silver dome, the Mission shares a parking lot with the former Ysleta's Speaking Rock Casino that our Texas senator John Cornyn successfully closed down (while serving as this state's Attorney General) by claiming "in Texas, Indian tribes are simple associations and have no more rights than a sorority or a fraternity."

The Tiguas have a different take on the reason their casino was shut down. They claim it was done because they contributed more to (then) governor George Bush's opponent than Bush in his run for a second term as the state's leader.

But what is worse than being screwed by self-righteous conservatives? Answer: Being screwed twice by self-righteous conservatives. That's what happened to the Tigua tribe of Ysleta after they lost their casino to John Cornyn. See, Dick Cheney's darling and former chief of staff, Jack Abramoff, screwed the Tiguas again with promises to help their tribe reopen the casino (for big bucks, of course). It proved good corruption can always find ways to profit more - even from beating a dead horse. But I digress, for this is a story about our trip to The Market. Not everything is political. (Or is it?)

Just a mile or two from the Ysleta Mission is The Market. Out front in the parking is this promising sign. Being quite large, it successfully competed for, and won, my attention. I had to think for a minute about what it meant.

I concluded it must be promoting meats served up by willing butcher's attentive to the customer's wants or needs. And that probably explains the huge sign out front. Because butchers are a vanishing breed. They no longer work in places like Wal-Mart super centers which some years ago did away with all butchers when they tried audaciously to organize a union!

Instead, what they got themselves was a royal throat slitting and gutting by Wal-Mart management. What a bittersweet irony: meat cutters getting butchered?

Once inside, we located the meat market. Everything there is brightly and colorfully displayed. I wondered if maybe for Mrs. Dada, who is a vegetarian, surveying the counter of exotic meats wasn't more like seeing a zoology exhibit of vivisections gone dreadfully wrong?

The Market is bustling with shoppers who can pause for a bite to eat from the multiple food and drink counters and shops. The choices were pretty overwhelming.

Mrs. Dada snapped this picture while I was looking over the menus and ruing my Spanish wasn't better. The sights and aromas spoke one word loudly: "Delicioso!"

The busiest area of the The Market was the produce aisles which were very crowded, often to the point of total gridlock. While hemmed in on the melon aisle, Mrs. Dada shot this photo of me examining a calabasa. I remember exactly what I was thinking when she took this: "What the hell is a calabasa?"

In all, our trip to The Market was a nice outing. As we reemerged outdoors into the bright sunlight, chiles were being roasted next to another little food concession stand. That's when I noticed a women's clothing store next door. I paused to take a picture of the topless dummies modeling blue jeans outside on the sidewalk.

(So OK, I realize this may increase Dada's Dally's hits from Google searchers. )

In today's local news

Autopsy says officer shot man 12 times.

"A 48-year-old man fatally shot last month by a police officer had 12 gunshot wounds to his body, including seven to his back an...autopsy report obtained Wednesday revealed.

"Gregory Smith had been shot three times in his left thigh, twice in his right buttock, once in the left side of his neck, once in his right shoulder, once in his right forearm and once in his left foot. Two additional gunshots, one to his right arm and one that grazed his left forearm, entered Smith's midsection."*

This was not a "green" killing. Details of Smith's death, obtained by the El Paso Times via the Freedom of Information Act shows total disregard and concern for modern environmental standards. It's obvious El Paso police officers lack training in responsible efforts to conserve valuable natural resources such as lead.

Also demonstrated is a lack of fiscal responsibility on the part of city employees who so generously squander that resource purchased at taxpayer's expense in these ever tightening economic times. Particularly when killing Smith who was found to be in possession of a toy hand gun.

*Source: Stephanie Sanchez / El Paso Times

GRRRRR!

ISRAEL'S FAVORITE LAP DOG

AMERICA, ITS PET BULLY,

trained to jump through hoops for "cookies," reassured its Israeli masters Wednesday it stands ready to attack and take a big bite out of Iran's ass before Bush, Cheney and Condoleezza "Oil Tanker" Rice leave office. ("It just depends on how poorly John McCain is doing in the polls come October," an unnamed source confided.)

Hoodoos you love?

About this time 5 years ago, I got lost on the streets of the City of Rocks, NM.
Fortunately, the traffic wasn't too heavy. I eventually found my way out.

Just another American success story.

For anyone who missed it, NPR ran an interesting health care story last Thursday. It was a comparison between a British woman and an American man who each suffer from the same affliction -- multiple sclerosis. The differences and the pain inflicted on the citizens by their nation's respective attendant health systems were dramatic.

The story was quick to point out neither Britain's nor the U.S. health system provides everything needed to treat such a terrible affliction. For example, the British woman now pays from her own pocket for extra physical therapy not covered by her government. It costs her the equivalent of $30/week (it's a donation, not a required fee). Everything else (to include expensive medications) is free!

The MS for the American only cost him his job at first. But, of course, without employment, his health insurance soon went down the drain too. Because of the loss of income from his job and lost insurance, he was forced to bear the burden of his treatments and meds himself. As a result, the next thing he lost was the family's home. Bankruptcy soon followed with contemplations of suicide to ease the financial strain on his wife and their two daughters, ages 4 and 9.

It was a good story. And an excellent chart is provided by NPR which allows Americans to compare their health care side by side with any of six other "first world" nations. (CAUTION: reading this chart, one may get the idea there are Third World nations with better health care than the United States. There are.)

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Dada note: Just a point or two. While the U.S. health care system for its citizens is inferior to most other industriaized nations, it maintains the greatest health care for its health care industry, i.e., the HMO's, insurance companies and pharmaceutical manufacturers who determine health and drug policies through cozy relationships of their lobbyists with our government representatives.

U.S. citizen's health care inferiorities are also made up for in another important area where, again, we excel heads above everyone. That's in a Joseph Goebbels' Nazi style propaganda, "if you repeat a lie it becomes the truth!" Such bullshit mechanisms are in place to wipe the minds of all with the dogma that foreign health care systems are detrimental to one's health, not to mention they reek of that scarier-than-shit "S" word -- socialism!

I don't know how many Americans know the difference between "universal health care" for all and "single payer health care." But they are NOT the same. And neither of the two major presidential candidates is calling for a single payer system. They dare not, at the risk of their political health and ambitions (if not their very own physical health!).

In the U.S., the best way to avoid the pitfalls of the health care system that claimed the above cited American MS victim is to just make sure you stay healthy I guess.

Slitting your own throats

If you like the greatly increased odds of getting seriously ill from eating tomatoes, jalapeno peppers, calabasas or whatever the hell's sickening people around the nation with salmonella, you'll probably vote for John McCain this November. That's because you probably voted for George Bush previously.

But I'm just curious why do you like the greater odds of jeopardizing your health by cutting regulatory agencies that used to oversee the safety of your food, your water, air you breathe and prescription drugs you take, hoping they won't make you ill, destroy your liver, cause you a stroke or just flat out kill you? Huh? Why?

I just had to ask this of those who plan to vote for John McCain because I'd like to suggest you might want to have your IQ tested before then. That's because you may be an imbecile. Or maybe you should consult a shrink. Because if you find John McCain as president an attractive idea, you're probably a fucking idiot.

Or maybe, if you can't afford to be tested because you have no health insurance, just maybe you could write a serious response here that might logically explain how you can support policies that are detrimental to your very existence.

But think carefully before you answer. Because if you can explain it in such a way that it makes sense, I have a lot of other questions for you. Things like why you would fly in airliners behind in required maintenance and aircraft inspections because airline and the FAA officials prefer to play golf with each other than concern themselves with the public's safety. And does the sudden surge in deaths from things like crane collapses and mining disasters have anything to do with cuts in regulator's oversight?

I'm not even gonna mention that other minor shit. Stuff like our violation of international treaties, torture, lies, and phony wars. Nor will I bring up my curiosity of your support for the suspension of habeas corpus, the Bill of Rights and the Constitution. But I do wonder, "What the fuck are you so afraid of that you would surrender these things people died defending?" Huh? Why's that?

And, oh yeh, why is it if you go to Las Vegas, gamble and lose your ass, it comes out of your pocket, but if Wall Street hedge funds get in trouble, bankers gamble and lose and mortgage lenders speculate, that comes out of your fuckin' pocket too?! Huh? Why is it up to you, as taxpayer, to "save the country" from the mess the fat, greedy-assed Wall Street pigs drove it into? Why? Why is that?

Or maybe you just subscribe to that conservative tripe about "smaller government." But if you do, can you explain why the nation, with all of its trimming the fat with cutbacks, outsourcing, privatizing, and tax breaks for the rich, has run up deficits that threaten its very future far more than any terrorist attack pending or implied in fantasy?

What the fuck is that? Huh?

"McCain for president!" Yeh, right.

Breaking my silence!

A soothing picture that has nothing to do with the blog other than the
euphoric state I'm in (having solved all our computer networking woes)!
Picture by Mrs. Dada

I've been fighting to save my online neck for the past five or six days. At Dada's we have three computers networked: our old PC (my fave); a cheap laptop used to blog when last we drove to Oregon the summer of '06; and the "new" iMac we bought last summer which we thought would replace the PC. (It hasn't yet!)

Keeping the PC made me decide to install the network almost a year ago. But inevitably, one computer fails on the network with almost predictable regularity. With each successive failure, I begin to sense a growing instability of the program resulting in more and increasingly blatant corruptions of the software and incompatibilities with the system as it was intended to work. One could compare it to, say, oh, our current government which is a clusterfuck of multiplying disasters.

So it was earlier this week my computer network became so erratic and messed up as to be frustratingly inoperable. I was left with one logical alternative. I would uninstall the corrupted software and begin all over again with a reinstallation, a fresh start. Maybe it would once more work as originally intended.

That's a place most Americans haven't yet reached with their government; when they get to the point where there is only one viable solution remaining to them, to save the system from more frequent crashes and, ultimately, total collapse -- a point of total uninstall of the old and fresh start with the new.

While no longer a whiz at things electronic as I may have been back in the early 90's, I am usually able to fix the problem or work around it.

At one time I enjoyed solving a bewitching computer quirk or glitch, but now I just expect stuff to work without having to participate, to "marry into the family" of tech manuals, online help and the patriarchal godfather of 'em all, the three hour tech support phone call with someone in northeast India who concludes it all with, "So sorry I was unable to solve your problem. Is there anything else I can help you with today?"

One could probably extend the analogy of Americans and their government this far as well, i.e., rather than be bothered with fixing it, most just expect - or hope - it will work the way it was intended. But government doesn't fix itself. In fact, untended and unleashed, it eventually fuckin' runs away. In the face of such apathy, the system only corrupts faster and faster, making ever more frequent crashes all the more dramatic. But I've digressed, sorry.

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What we've just come through is the result of an iTunes gift card given as a high school graduation gift to a nice neighbor kid during a party for him on June 11th.

Several weeks later, he showed up with a thank you card and his new iMac laptop graduation computer. I tried very hard not to short circuit it by drooling on its keyboard as he demonstrated its amazing prowess. It made me realize I need to spend more time with our own iMac desktop.

But that's not what really blew me away and ultimately caused my network to crash leaving every computer we own offline, as well as our internet based phone. No, the culprit was what "Tom" brought along with his laptop to demonstrate. It was his new pocket sized iPod Touch. Basically an iPhone without the phone part.

Mrs. Dada, Sam and I decided we just had to have one. The selling point was its ability to surf the Web using a network. This stroked Mrs. Dada's interest in that sitting before a desktop computer is very uncomfortable for her. With the iPod Touch she could surf from the comfort of her favorite recliner if she wanted.

So last Friday, Mrs. Dada returned from Costco with our new "Touch" and hooking it up with the others is what ultimately dove our whole computer network into a total electronic "coma." For in trying to save it all, it died.

To spare all the details of a very frustrating last few days, we are now totally back online better than ever with the final member to rejoin, the iMac desktop, coming back online this morning. And we can now sit out on the patio in the late afternoons with the new iPod Touch and catch up on all the latest blogging. And believe me, having been distracted for a number of days now, that's going to take some time.

But it's so good to be back! And when tired of surfing, we can just stick our internet 'surf board' in a pocket, to access again next time, anywhere there's a wireless 'hot spot' or network somewhere that works like it's supposed to. Like the governments we have that we wish would too.

A little more to the right, please!

So in deciding where to park it, Dada couldn't decide whether to go to the left or go to the right. After much consternation, he decided to park it square in the middle.

That's when he realized he would have made a great democratic candidate for president of the United States!

(Note: In the photo, to all who view it, Dada--while squarely in the middle--is leaning to the Right!)

Remembering John

On June 19th, 2001, my brother died very suddenly.

I'm glad.

I know how callous that sounds. But John was from an earlier time and as we all now know, it was later than we knew. Less than three months before 9/11, I'm not sure how well he would have handled the post 9/11 collapse of the world he knew.

John was 17 1/2 years older than I. Drafted in 1945, he served on Guam in the Pacific at the end of World War II. He deeply believed in America and what it had fought for and won.

He thought his government represented him and not the interests of money and greed.

He cried often and long after President Kennedy's assassination. He loved Jackie. Hated Nixon, Reagan and Bush. I don't know how he would have taken the unmasking of democrats and republicans in the 21st Century as one big party of looters and plunderers of the country and as agents of their gluttonous special interest accomplices.

He believed if you devoted the 40 most productive years of your life to one company, they would return the loyalty in your retirement with a pension and health care.

I don't know how John would have handled the implosion of the twin towers later that summer; of their collapse as metaphor portending the future of an America he had spent his life in and thought he knew.

No, the timing of his unexpected exit from this earth less than three months before 9/11 was impeccable. I think instead, had he lived to see the post 9/11 world, it would have killed him.

"The Last Conquistador"

Below are some photos of "The Equestrian" by sculpture John Houser. Following the PBS Point of View's "The Last Conquistador" program which aired Tuesday evening on the controversy surrounding the world's largest equestrian sculpture in the world, I found myself at the foot of this enormous art piece after taking neighbor's to the airport to catch a flight just after dawn.

Photos by Dada, sculpture by John Houser

(Click to enlarge.)
In the mid '90s, sculptor John Houser and I had a five word conversation. (His gigantic equestrian was just an idea conceived as a tribute to controversial conquistador "Don Juan de Onate.")

The occasion was a reception at an art exhibit here in El Paso. Standing in front of my painting I'd entered in the exhibition, Houser asked: "Did you under paint it?"

"No." was my response.

I believe most things happen by chance. But sometimes I suspect there's more than mere coincidence in play. Like being at the base of Houser's sculpture this morning following last night's PBS program. Gazing up at the incredible detail, I was wishing my conversation with Houser had been more than just five words.

The upcoming attitude adjustment?.

I know Dada's Dally isn't always "The Happiest Place on Earth." I'll concede that willingly - uncontested - to Denmark or Disney.

Maybe some of the darkness Dada's is continuously birthed beneath is born from a sense that reality and our interpretation of it are terribly misaligned. Trust me, I try very hard to temper my fear that, as a nation, we are truly in some very deep shit and when we are forced to reconcile our present fantasy world with the real one, it could get real exciting (i.e., "messy") real fast.

Last week, the seventh bank failed under Bush World's economic prosperity era we are currently reaping the "benefits" of with increasing sobriety. As a result of IndyMac's seizure by regulators, Wall Street investors are now sitting on the edge of their seats, waiting for the latest reports of quarterly bank earnings due to hit the fan in coming weeks.

Could IndyMac, claiming the honor of being the second largest bank failure in the FDIC's 75 year history, only hold that title for a few weeks or months? Are there still bigger fish to be fried? Soon we shall see.

In the meantime, this week James Howard Kuntsler talks about our teetering national economy in his The Clusterfuck Nation Chronicle after Fannie Mae and Freddie Mac, the two major vertebrae comprising the backbone of our nation's housing finance system, suddenly came under closer scrutiny in light of the housing bubble now deflating all around us.

Just as a note of the economic enormity Fannie and Freddie represent to the U.S. economy, at the end of last year they had a combined book of business valued at about $5,000 billion. (That's the calm way of saying 5 trillion dollars!) That's difficult for me to imagine when I'm down here concerned about my electric bill going up next fall an average of $10/month.

But let me just quote a bit from this week's Kunstler as a hint to why I tend to be a little pessimistic at times. (Note: emphasis are mine)

"If Fannie and Freddie are left to die out on the desert floor, say goodbye to the housing market, the major investment banks, countless regional banks, the retirement accounts of virtually everyone in America, the viability of all fifty states' governments, and the day-to-day operating ability of all their municipalities -- and very likely the current incarnation of the world banking system.

"This process is really out of control now. The bottom line is the comprehensive bankruptcy of the United States. The Republican Party under George Bush will be known as the party that wrecked America (release 2.0). Painful as it is, Americans had better get a new 'Dream' and fast. It better be a dream based on the way the universe actually works, which is to say an operating procedure run on earnest effort and truthfulness rather than merely trying to get something for nothing and wishing on stars. We might begin symbolically by evacuating Las Vegas and calling in an air strike on the loathsome place -- to register our new reality-based attitude adjustment."

Dada says, "Ha, ha! Poor Las Vegas. Why, when looking for the worst of our best, is Las Vegas most often mentioned?" But I digress.

"The Last Conquistador." This week's P.O.V. on PBS, Tuesday, July 15th.

As I've blogged about on a previous occasion or two here on Dada's, this week's PBS topic on P.O.V. was seven years in the making. It's about El Paso's equestrian statue billed as "the world's tallest." Conceived by artist John Houser, it was embroiled in controversy throughout nearly all of its creation process.

Sculptor John Houser stands near a part of the Don Juan de Oate statue chronicled
in "The Last Conquistador," which airs Tuesday on PBS. (Photos courtesy of "P.O.V.")

Originally conceived as a tribute to Spanish conquistador Don Juan de Oñate, it turns out Oñate isn't quite the hero many considered him to be. Some Native American descendants, particularly those from the Acoma pueblo in New Mexico, vehemently opposed any tribute to Oñate's brutality.

Footage of the 2003 ElPaso City Council meeting where members of New Mexico's
Acoma Tribe protested the OñateO statue is included in "The Last Conquistador."

I look forward to this program on a topic that has been extremely polarizing for El Pasoans as it unfolded over many years.

As co-director John L. Valadez of "The Last Conquistador" said of the statue, "It's pretty clear the statue opened up deep and painful wounds and deepened divides [in El Paso]. One would hope public art expands (a community). Here, it was the opposite."

Some facts from the "Equestrian":

• Equestrian's original name: "Don Juan de Oñate"
• Final name: "The Conquistador"
• Length of time to complete: 10 years (it came in seven years late and $1.5 million over budget)
  
• Height: 36 feet tall (billed as world's tallest equestrian statue)
• Weight: 18 tons of bronze

Attributes: photos and their captions courtesy of The El Paso Times and P.O.V.

Quotes of the day!

"Goodbye, from the world's biggest polluter."

George W. Bush's departing remark on global warming to the national leaders of the G-8 summit as he left what will be his last meeting with them yesterday in Japan.  (Let us all pray!)

(Did we really want such flippant punk-ass leadership in the face of burning issues that may determine the survivability of humanity as we've known it? ~Dada)

"I'm not going to retract any of it. Every word I said was true!"

Senator John McCain's economic adviser, Phil Gramm, saying of remarks he made to the Washington Times regarding current U.S. economic conditions as being merely a "mental depression" and that the country has become a "nation of whiners."

(Do we really want the economic adviser of the next president of the United States telling us to quit our fuckin' whining just because we lost our jobs with the auto industry or the airlines or some bank or Starbucks or a Krispy Kreme shop or a mortgage company? But that's okay because we couldn't afford the gas to get to work anyway. And our family's out of a home as a result of a giddy housing market that got us in over our heads and it's our own damn fault because we're not thinking positively enough?! ~Dada)

He "does not speak for me -- I speak for me. So I strongly disagree." 

Senator John McCain denouncing the remarks of his economic adviser, Phil Gramm. 

(What does it say of a presidential candidate who would pick as his economic advisor a person living in an alternate reality or parallel Universe from another dementia who thinks the current economic conditions of the United States are the result of a bunch of depressed whiners who don't live on the same "smiley faced" planet as Gramm? Oh, and after McCain's strong denouncement of Gramm's remarks, is he still McCain's economic advisor? ~Dada)  

Some of yesterday's senate voting results

Yesterday's senate votes on a couple of significant bills:

(HR 6331) A special thanks to Senator Ted Kennedy for making it to work yesterday, the first time since his recent surgery, to vote to deny the 10.5 percent cut in doctor's reimbursements for Medicare patients they treat. If Bush vetoes the bill as he has promised he would, as it now stands based on yesterday's vote, the senate would have the votes to override Bush.

Many senators in favor of cutting Medicare reimbursements to doctors, aside from those just wishing to kill the whole program, did so expressing the fear this could impact funding for Medicare Advantage, which is a nice name for a program that sounds even better than the original Medicare.

But Medicare Advantage is a program administered through private insurance companies that often lure Medicare patients away from Medicare with promises of free dental or other such enticements. But once those folks enroll they discover they have lost their choice of doctors, there are exclusions, or denials of tests and or treatments, as determined by an insurance company and its company doctors instead of one's doctor of choice under the original Medicare.

Dada is greatly appreciative of Senator Kennedy's vote yesterday for, without it, it appeared Bush would again get his goddamned way of $billions and billions for war and bombs whenever he demands it from the normally spineless congress, while crying, "We can't afford it!" as he slashes social programs affecting millions of Americans (besides Medicare seniors). Now there is a chance Medicare may not fade and die quite as quickly as the insurance industry and those supporting it over the best interests of private citizens were hoping.

(HR 6301) The controversial FISA bill granting telecoms immunity for spying on Americans passed the senate, 69 - 28, with three not voting. John McCain did not vote. (I don't know why. Perhaps he was off to Columbia or elsewhere introducing himself as the next president of the U.S.?)

Some of the minority still voting to uphold the Constitution instead of immunity for the telecom giants included democratic senators Biden, Boxer, Clinton, and Feingold.

Independent senator Bernie Sanders voted "nay" while independent Joe Liberman said "yea."

Republicans voting in favor of immunity for the telecoms (and Bush and Cheney) included my very own Texas senators, Cornyn and Hutchison, along with Diane Feinstein and Barack Obama.

On the road home with Dada Kuralt this last Sunday.

Sunday we went to dinner on the other side of the mountain with friends. Afterwards, on our way back home over the mountain, we were so impressed with the atmosphere and resulting clarity of the landscape that we pulled over to take a few pictures.

Mrs. Dada and I tried to live in Oregon for a couple years when first married. I was born there. Had lived there for a year during my internment in 8th grade. Other times, I spent much of each summer when school was out, as California refugee, on the farm of my sister and brother-in-law and their three children (very close to my own age).

So I was very familiar with Oregon, a place I dearly love. But I wasn't nearly as familiar with its winters. As I learned from my first one after moving back, they can weigh dismally on someone who is a natural born pessimist. (Well, politically, at least.)

And so it was, when the Oregon winters rolled in as they coincidentally do each year just after fall, I would get laid off from my seasonal job. That's when I noticed a strong correlation between that and the seasonal affective disorder that would start to ravage my mind. It may have been, without work to occupy my thoughts, I had more time to attend to the politics of the nation which, at that time, were under the thumb of another despot, Richard M. Nixon. But I digress.

Overlooking Northwest El Paso (green, here in foreground), Mount Cristo Rey
(middle ground) and the mountains of Mexico in the background. Click to enlarge.

Oregon was new to Mrs. Dada. But she, too, thought it incredibly beautiful. We would take drives during which her only complaint would be, "What a great view this must be, if only you could see it for the trees." I often shared her frustration. I guess even back in the early 70's, I was more of a desert rat than I would admit to myself.

So one of the several things we enjoy about the desert is, when being on a rise in the desert floor, the vistas can be incredible. I swear you can see for 370 miles. (Hell, you could probably see all the way to Phoenix if those damn mountains didn't get in the way! Well, maybe the mountains are a blessing in some ways after all?)

Zoomed out -- a wider view.

If you zoom in on this photo, you can see (on extreme left in the middle ground) the American Smelting and Refining Company (ASARCO) smoke stack rising 828 feet above the valley floor. The reopening of ASARCO is a strong point of contention for many, many El Pasoans that I have blogged about here at Dada's Dally in the past.

Continuing further right from the ASARCO landmark, one ascends Mount Cristo Rey. Staying in this middle ground area, further to the right of that is northwestern Juarez, site of the very hotly contested struggle for the land between Mexican homesteaders of Lomas del Poleo and the Zaragoza family which has recently surfaced claiming they own this disputed land. Maybe the fact Lomas is targeted to become a very busy border crossing between Juarez and Santa Teresa, New Mexico, has something to do with their sudden interest in a land nobody but homesteaders wanted 30 years ago; settlers who are now being intimidated, driven from their homes and, in some cases, murdered by hired terrorist thugs.

Having never been there, I'm sorry I can't pinpoint more specifically the exact location of Lomas del Poleo in that photo, but it's there. I have mentioned it on occasion here at Dada's. Border Explorer, a frequent visitor and commenter here has been to "Lomas" and has blogged about it far more extensibly.

Turning the opposite direction (to the northwest), we could see hints of the
upcoming beginning of our monsoon season we had no idea was about to hit us.

As I looked to the northwest, I could see a preview of the monsoon rains that would begin the next day, dropping high temperatures into the upper 70s to mid-80s ever since. On Tuesday afternoon over three inches of rain would fall on us in a matter of a few hours! Next day on the news, among those whose homes were flooded were families in a brand new housing development just a mile or two from us. The story highlighted a couple who had moved in just a month ago. It showed three and 1/2 feet of water had invaded their brand new dream home as well the homes of their neighbors. Some developers should be shot!

But I thought Mrs. Dada taking pictures just a 100 feet away with the forboding background was nice. Being so close I thought, "How can I miss her?" So, while she was totally engrossed in snapping pictures, I shot her!

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Viva chihuahuas!

Living just 7 or 8 miles from the Mexican state of Chihuahua, I was enthralled by this short video that exemplifies a spirit of America that is credited with the birth of our nation.

It's a spirit that apparently no longer exists here (except as fantasized about in this clip from the upcoming Disney movie to be released to all of America a month or so before our presidential election in November).

Here then is a reminder to us of the qualities we have all lost or are losing. Qualities such as the willingness to stand up against despots and the courage to resist the erosion of our rights at all costs.


Viva Chihuahuas!

Random thoughts #37

Breathe easier

Democracy Now!: In Japan, world leaders at the G8 summit have announced they would work toward cutting carbon emissions by at least 50 percent by 2050.

Dada's Dally: List the names of all G-8 leaders agreeing to a 50% reduction in carbon emissions by 2050 who will still be alive in 2050. (Hint: They could have agreed to a 100% carbon emissions reduction by 2050 with a 98% chance 100% of them will be dead by then. (Oh wait, so will the rest of us, most likely. Kudos for zero accountability!).

Weekend drownings

Eight people drowned over the Fourth of July weekend in Texas. This number is puny compared to the thousands of Texans who will drown over the fifty-two weeks of 2008 swimming in debt that was too deep for them.

Dada's Dally hint: To reduce such risks, never swim in debts that are over your head.

Semper Fidelis

A former marine has been sentenced to 18 months in prison for stealing money from the bank accounts of fellow Marines. Semper Fi!

A sigh of relief

From an AP news story: KUALA LUMPUR, Malaysia (AP) - Iranian President Mahmoud Ahmadinejad said Tuesday that he sees no possibility of a war between his country and the United States or Israel.

Dada's Dally note to President Mahmoud Ahmadinejad: Just because you do not want war with the United States does not mean you can just opt out.

Reminder: Sadam Hussein did not want war, he bent over backwards, licked the jack boots of thugs to avoid it and still got war. The choice to opt out was not his to make, just as it is not yours. )

George Bush has a gift for you. (Hint: One size fits all.)

Of icons and iconic symbols

Definition:
icon, n.
1. An image; a representation.
2. An important and enduring symbol:
3. One who is the object of great attention and devotion; an idol:

(Warren Zinn / Army Times)

March 25, 2003, Pfc. Joseph Dwyer was photographed carrying an Iraqi boy who had
been injured during fighting between the Army's 7th Cavalry Regiment and Iraqi forces.

Today's El Paso Times carries a story on its front page of a former Ft. Bliss soldier who had joined the military two days after 9/11 to serve as a medic. It includes a picture of him carrying an injured Iraqi boy to safety after his family had been caught in a crossfire between U.S. and Iraqi forces. It's been called an "iconic photo."

Wars give us many opportunities to capture iconic photos or write inspirational stories of heroic deeds, of battles won and liberation bestowed upon the "formerly" suppressed or vanquished.

But there are far more iconic photos of the other side of war that we don't see. Like those flag draped coffins of fallen soldiers flown home under the cover of darkness and government censorship. And little do we see or hear of stories of the thousands of wounded who return, each to fight the new, more personal battles their war has bestowed upon them.

Unfortunately, there are no photos of Pfc Joseph Dwyer after his return from Iraq. But they, too, would also be icons of war. Like the night in early 2005 when he wrecked his car on the streets of El Paso trying to avoid a box in the road he thought contained an improvised explosive device. There's no photo of that.

Nor are there any iconic photos from later that year when Dwyer went on a shooting rampage in his apartment. Fortunately, no one was hurt and Dwyer surrendered after three hours of police negotiations.

And we won't see any iconic photos of Dwyer when his body was discovered late last month after "taking pills and inhaling the fumes from an aerosol can." All of these photos are the more common symbols we won't see as a legacy of war.

Dwyer suffered post traumatic stress syndrome, difficult to capture in photos and often untold in stories until they end tragically as Dwyer's did.

In the current issue of the The AARP Magazine there's an article entitled "When Wounded Vets Come Home" by Barry Yeoman. In it, there is a sidebar story of Marine Sergeant Shurvon Phillip. It contains another iconic photo of him with his mother, Gail Ulerie, and the legacy of war they both now tragically share. Reading it, you have to wonder of their futures and what might befall Sergeant Phillip should he ever lose his mother Gail.

An excerpt from AARP's "When Wounded Vets Come Home":

Fighting for His Life

Before he was injured in Al Anbar, Iraq, Marine Sergeant Shurvon Phillip told his mother, Gail Ulerie, 48, not to worry about his safety. “Everything is gonna be all right, Ma,” he told her. “I’m reading my Psalms.” Then, in May 2005, Shurvon’s Humvee hit an IED. The resulting brain injuries left him quadriplegic and unable to speak. Gail, an immigrant who came to the States from Trinidad, had to quit her two jobs so she could take care of her 27-year-old son. Initially, the work overwhelmed her. “Lord, I don’t think I can do this,” she cried out one day while bathing Shurvon. But today, having coped with his many surgeries and infections, Gail has accepted her new life caring for her son. Her time is now spent ferrying Shurvon between hospitals, rehabilitation centers, and their home in Richmond Heights, Ohio. She keeps him clean and helps exercise his arms and legs. And because he is prone to frequent vomiting, she always stays near him to make sure he doesn’t choke. The VA pays for eight hours a day of home health care. The rest of the time Gail is on her own. As many parents in Gail’s situation find, the stress can be crushing. Gail struggles to concentrate; occasionally she binge eats. She wears a hairpiece to cover the thinning hair on her scalp. Without a job, she cannot afford treatment for the cataracts doctors say could blind her. But she continues to resist moving Shurvon into a long-term care facility. “Nobody can take care of Shurvon like I can,” Gail says. —B.Y.

******

These are stories of the icons of war we don't see or hear enough of. They will be repeated tens of thousands of times in the years ahead. Stories of the effects that often severely impact former soldiers, their family members and our society.

After his return from Iraq, Pfc Dwyer suffered PTSD. He wanted so badly to put the war, its images, sounds, and smells behind him.

"I just want to go fishing. I don't want anything to do with violence, guns or war. I just want to meet my [new, baby] daughter and go fishing," he said upon departing El Paso for his home in North Carolina.

But like so many others, Joseph Dwyer, couldn't put the war behind him. And while not counted as a fatality of the war, it was the war that killed him. And, tragically, Joseph Dwyer has become another ultimate icon of war.

Hadrian's Wall. The Great Wall of China. The Berlin Wall. Michael Chertoff's Wall. Rufino Loya Reyes' Wall.

(NOTE: Not all walls are great. But last weekend I discovered one that is.)

A week ago last Saturday I left the house rather early to catch some photos of the two Pastors for Peace buses carrying volunteers, equipment and supplies to Cuba.

Having attended a potluck dinner for this courageous band of volunteers the previous evening and taken some pictures, I inadvertently deleted them when I got home.

My effort to return and recapture those images the following morning also failed. That's because, when I arrived where they had spent the night, I discovered they were gone!

Here instead, are the serendipitous pictures I returned home with instead.

(all photos by Dada, enlarged by clicking)

These photos are of a house next to the freeway. I've passed it for years, always meaning to exit the 'road of rush' to pause and get a closer look. Saturday I not only finally did that, but I had the fortune to encounter its creator, Rufino Loya Rivas, in the act of touching up his little piece of artwork.

Rufino Loya Reyes, touching up the wall around his home. From speaking with him as he worked,
I learned this is a project he's been working on for more than 26 years! Note the size brush he is
using. It's no more than a quarter inch wide to paint the intricacies of this very long wall.

What follows are some of the details of Rivas' wall. Every shrine, tribute or niche is immaculately maintained in excellent condition. Also note in photos where his home appears in the background, the decorum is not limited to just the wall. It extends to the house as well!

I love the way he has integrated the chain link fence into and as part of the wall.

Tribute to the victims of 9/11 with freeway in the background.

Rivas told me a Mexican television station had featured a story on his creation. The El Paso Times has also run a story on it and the University of Texas El Paso gave it special recognition.

As I departed Rufino Loya Rivas and his wall, I thought of Simon Rodia. Those familiar with Los Angeles' Watts Towers have heard of Italian born Rodia. He's the folk artist who spent 30 years of his life (from 1921 to 1955) constructing towers in his yard as a "tribute to his adopted country and a monument to the spirit of individuals who make their dreams tangible."

Rivas certainly has that same spirit. It manifests in a very great wall.

Better get your affairs in order!

Photo taken of planet Earth about 7 years before its demise in late '08.

Later this summer, in August -- if all goes as planned, the world's most powerful atom smasher ever built on Earth will be turned on. Buried 330 feet underground, the Large Hadron Collider, as it is known, straddles the border between Switzlerland and France. It has a circumference of 17 miles and once operational, scientists are hoping to learn more about the Universe in which we reside.

Insights into invisible matter and extra dimensions may be gained. But some are concerned that science is stepping beyond its knowledge base from the expected to potential unexpected results once the LHC is running full out. Fears such as creating a black hole that will gobble up the Earth and its neighbors have been expressed.

"If I thought that this was going to happen, I would be well away from here," David Francis, a physicist working on the project, said.

Dada finds this thought amusing. Since the actual discovery of the first black hole in 1971, scientists have theorized how black holes are created.

Wouldn't it be ironic if we learn sometime after August that black holes originate among cultures in the Universe intelligent enough and foolish enough to build their planet's most powerful atom smasher?

Dada can imagine observers in nearby galaxy I Zwicky 18 observing planet Earth some 59 million years from now as it suddenly "blinks out" realizing in its place there is now a new black hole.

Physicists on some planet in I Zwicky 18 might likely announce,"Oh, Earth must have gone 'super collider' on us!"

Cuba caravanistas update

The Pastors for Peace caravan successfully crossed into Mexico yesterday, but not before U.S. government officials seized the 32 computers destined for Cuba. Janine Bandcroft writes about it on her blog here.

Catching the Spirit of '76!

[Editor's warning: The following contains language not suitable for all readers, to include (per Dada) " small children and faux patriots who wear lapel flags during working hours on Wall Street or capitol hill in Washington, D.C." Apparently Dada celebrates this 4th of July with a patriotic fervor that's never been stronger. The result is a rant by one desperately in search of his former nation. Hence, it may contain vernacular in the rare Spirit of '76 (i.e., an occasional obscenity), of Revolution , that today's holiday used to represent. ~Editor Sam]

Happy Fourth of July to everyone! Will tonight be the traditional evening of fireworks set off in celebration of another national birthday? I'm concerned with a number of revelers who use this occasion, not as display of their patriotism, but instead to impart to progeny their latent desires for pyromania.

In looking online at rockets and Roman candles, I came across a nice explosive called the "Ultimate Fear." It's described in part as "nearly 120 Decibels of pure Testosterone!" So not only are the pyros igniting these ear crackers blind to the real patriotism the holiday was originally intended to represent, now they can become deaf to it as well!

Well, last night a friend, from the barricades downtown that Mrs. Dada frequents faithfully every Friday to demonstrate for peace, invited us to her home. It's a nice, traditional gathering the first Thursday of each month in the summers and serves a dual purpose -- party of like minds and, this election year, a strategy party for democrats in '08.

But no longer a card carrying member of the party, I could not, in clear conscience, go. I would have been an impostor in sheep's clothing!

Besides, being the third of July, I decided to hang here at the house with editor Sam in case there was an outbreak of patriot pyromania. (Actually, "patriots" my ass. If patriots, we'd be in the middle of the Revolution already. It's a total misnomer, yet pyromaniacs indeed!)

Surprisingly the neighborhood was totally silent all night! Not one explosion. "DO YOU SUPPOSE," I thought, "the Depression's finally come home to roost. People have no money to burn?!" Oh my god, how unAmerican would that be?

Although I just saw one of those Wall Street "suits" on TV before leaving for a long weekend in the Hamptons with his little American flag stuck up his *lapel* telling all of us there's no recession because the economy grew by 1% last quarter!

Tell that to the homeless from the housing bubble that's blown up in their faces, a banking industry on a precipice of total collapse, the airlines fighting to survive their crashes , thousands of dismissed auto workers and all others struggling with soaring food and fuel costs under a government hemorrhaging red ink while white-assed Wall Street suits assure us, blue in the face, this is not a recession!

Those *bleeping* assholes! I have a suggestion where they can cram that Pablum they continue to feed us, because I ain't swallowing their bullshit.

Which brings me back to an earlier point: Where's the freakin' Revolution? Huh? Where are all those fucking *patriots* scaring the hell and blowing the shit out of Nature out there tonight. What the fuck are they doing the other 364 days each year? As Thomas Jefferson pondered, "What country before ever existed a century and a half without a rebellion?"

If those folks can't blow their wads on cherry bombs this year, if they're sitting at home on their asses wondering if the Suburban will make it all the way into work Monday, maybe they ought to be out in the streets tonight breaking shit and demonstrating the true spirit of Revolution, the true meaning of the holiday! Huh?

From Dada and Sam, my editor, "Happy Fourth of July everyone!"

Head 'em out!

(photo courtesy of Janine Bandcroft)

Can you hear the drums Fernando?
Do you still recall the frightful night
we crossed the Rio Grande?
I can see it in your eyes
How proud you were to fight for freedom in this land

(lyrics from Abba's "Fernando")

July 3rd, McAllen, Texas

The wait is over. The day long anticipated is here. Today is the day more than 100 Pastors for Peace volunteers will attempt to cross into Reynosa, Mexico, with nearly 100 tons of humanitarian aid destined for Cuba in defiance of a 47 year old U.S. blockade of that island nation. Their goal is not just to break that blockade. Their goal is to end it forever.

It's that time of year.

"He has waged cruel war against human nature itself, violating its most sacred rights of life & liberty in the persons of a distant people who never offended him..." Thomas Jefferson delineating in the original Declaration of Independence draft the reasons we were declaring our independence from England and King George III, although Dada thought Jefferson could have been addressing our present day King, George the II.*

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

As another celebration of the Fourth rolls around, in many parts of the country gunshot-like sounds can be heard, the flash of explosions will litter the landscape where fireworks are legal and, often, where they are not. Fireworks stands spring up like weeds. They sprout, bloom, wither and die all within a couple of weeks.

What's left where I live, is a landscape littered with the aftermath of spent mini-munitions just outside the city limits. That is, if we're lucky. If we're not, we're left with blackened scars from fires upon a tinder dry land.

It's all part of America's love and long tradition with pyrotechnics, from Roman candles to bunker busters. Whether they be for amusement, or death, it's always about "good business." Never mind the litter of spent sparklers on roadsides, shattered nerves of wildlife and domestic animals -- or worse -- on much grander scales in places like Iraq or Afghanistan.

Sometimes I wonder why explosives as toys, or bombs as weapons, are counted as part of the Gross National Product? (Product, production, productivity implies the creation of something useful, of something "productive," doesn't it?) I mean, the sole purpose of explosives is to blow up and in the process destroy shit. But I digress.

Happy Fourth of July everybody!

* while this is just part of a quote intended for the original Declaration of Independence by Jefferson, it was edited out in order for Southern owners to sign the Declaration and still own slaves.

Here they come, from all over the world! (Well, almost.)

I sometimes muse at how mind and matter collide and what materializes from such collisions; of how matter is molded and manifested into our world as the result of a thought in someone's mind.

In 1984, a bullet from the rifle of a Nicaraguan contras "freedom fighter" found its mark inside the body of one Reverend Lucius Walker, Jr. The following photos are all the result of that bullet (matter) meeting with that Reverend (mind).

Approximately 12 years afterward, on the 19th of July, 2006, Mrs. Dada and I passed a strange looking bus on a lonesome stretch of Interstate 10 just west of Blythe, California. I slowed the car as we passed while Mrs. Dada took pictures of the very unusual bus.

We didn't know it, but that bus was a manifestation of that earlier space/time intersection between a bullet and Reverend Walker.

On April 6, 2008 while walking with blogger and frequent commenter on Dada's Dally, Border Explorer, pictured here with husband -- Mr. Border Explorer, revealed to Dada the highlight of her life had come about as a result of the 1984 shooting of Rev. Walker.

(Photo courtesy of Janine Bandcroft of Journey to Cuba with Pastors for Peace)

From last Friday, June 27, 2008. Dada, pictured above listening to group spokeswoman, Nita Palmer, seated across from him. (Mrs. Dada can be seen standing behind in pink. ) We attended a potluck dinner hosted by El Paso's Unitarian Universalist Community Church. It was for a contingent of 16 representatives of Pastors for Peace on their way to Cuba with medications, educational materials and computers.

For the 19th time in 17 years, Pastors for Peace, through this year's courageous group of volunteers, will again challenge the U.S. blockade of Cuba this Thursday, July 3rd, when they will attempt to cross the border into Reynosa, Mexico.

They had come to dinner in two very unusual buses. One of those buses parked outside was the very same bus the Dada's had passed nearly two years ago outside Blythe, CA! (top photo)

If we didn't know what that bus was about in 2006, we were learning this evening, all because of a bullet and Reverend Walker's interaction in 1984.

Below then, are pictures of some of the buses carrying volunteers from the U.S., Canada and Europe along with desperately needed and appreciated goods and medications for Cubans. There are also cars and trucks in this convoy.

NOTE: These photos were taken in McAllen, TX and are courtesy of Janine Bandcroft, one of the caravanistas. The following is also from her website:

"More than 100 Pastors for Peace volunteers from the US, Canada, and Europe have assembled in McAllen, TX to challenge the immoral US blockade on trade and travel to Cuba. Participants in the 19th US/Cuba Friendshipment Caravan arrived last night in McAllen and are currently preparing for their journey. They are camped out at Our Savior Lutheran Church for several days to inventory the 100 tons of aid they have collected for Cuba, to decorate and maintain their vehicles, and to prepare their border-crossing strategy. The aid includes medical, educational, arts and sports equipment for the blockaded island nation. Six brightly painted school buses and a mobile library will also be donated to Cuba. The caravan plans to cross the Texas border into Reynosa, Mexico early on Thursday, July 3, on their way to visit Cuba."

As you look at the pictures of these buses carrying all these volunteers, remember it may be it's only because of the intersection of a bullet and a reverend sharing the same space and time in 1984 that all of this has manifested.

And while viewing this magnificent fleet, ponder what might not be if that bullet had missed Reverend Walker.

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

Dada note: The U.S. blockade of the small island nation, Cuba, for nearly 1/2 a century makes absolutely no sense. Unless, as Dada suspects, Cuba scares the shit out of the United States.

That would be because Cubans enjoy many benefits we in the United States don't/can't have, such as free education and medical care for all citizens, despite that nation's impoverishment.

And while a poor country, try to imagine what the U.S. would be like with our dwindling resources and an industrial base that manufactures little more than humongous personal and national debts, or ponder how "rich" we'd be if blockaded for forty-seven years unable to import the oil and essential resources from others all over the world we so desperately need to build our major exports, bombs and bombers.

Or, "God forbid!" what would we do if we couldn't have the cheap Chinese Wal-Mart crap our insatiable, addicted appetites require?