Just like the third world

Now that a judge in Spain (the same one who indicted General Pinochet a short while ago) has agreed to look at a prosecutor's request that six former Bushco apparatchiks be tried for (according to AP): (giving) "legal cover for torture at Guantanamo Bay, a lawyer in the case said Saturday." perhaps the Obama WH will be willing to something about it at our end. In South Africa, Rwanda, the Balkans and Cambodia--among other, mostly third world countries--there have been attempts at "Truth and reconciliation" style commissions. With varying degrees of success these commissions have attempted to clear away the deliberately obfuscatory layers of camouflage and unravel the reality of criminal or just plain bad government policy in those countries. Policies which resulted in much human suffering and lots of death and injury to those countries' citizenry. Can we do less? Can we fail to follow the example of a country like Rwanda and shine a light on the mechanisms, motivations and identities of those responsible for such horrific depradations? Admittedly, in the case of the U.S., from 2000-2008, most of the dying took place in yet other third world countries. Nevertheless, the people of the United States have suffered as well. Certainly we are not victims to the extent of the innocents of Iraq and Afghanistan, or the extra-legal "prisoners" that have been shoved into the likes of Gitmo. However, these actions were taken, like it or not, in our collective names. I am not suggesting the gallows (although I think it is actually an appropriate punishment for some of the people who were in charge during the Bush era), but if we fail to investigate the excesses; if we fail to identify--publicly--the miscreants; if we "sweep it under the rug", it will be impossible to expiate the collective guilt of our nation for what amounts to war crimes. I and most others were simply bystanders, witnesses to the depradations committed in the name of "The war on terror", but our guilt is, while diffuse, quite real in our own hearts. Without the truth coming out we cannot "fix the problem". Can we not do at least as well in this regard as Rwanda?

Deja voodoo vu

Good Morning: I'd like to think that I'm a sane, reasonable guy (not saying it's true, just that I'd like to think that); the reptilicans make it hard for me to think that way. Between the list of Republican governors who are saying they will turn down stimulus package dollars (only, apparently, those that would extend unemployment benefits) and the likes of Rushbo Limpboy stating that they want the plan to fail I'm having a hard time retaining my civility. I say, fine, let those fucking douchebags do whatever they want to in order to boost their political fortunes. Then, take some small percentage of the money they turn down and use it to run some "public service" ads for their constituents--just so that they understand that it's only a portion of the stimulus money that was turned down. I think that would be appropriate. As for Rushbo? I wish I believed in hell. Unfortunately, I don't. However, if Rush were to contract some horrific disease or die of a self-administered drug overdose I would be less than bummed. It was bad enough when these opportunistic sons-of-bitches joined up with the fundies on the sex and prayer crap, now they're thinking seems to be that propsperity (other than theirs) is also a gift from THEIR GOD, and everybody who isn't in their small, select circlejerk isn't worthy of it. Well, fuck them and THEIR GOD. I don't believe in GOD anyway, but the version they hold in their heads is anathema to everything I've ever learned about a compassionate and loving deity. UPDATE: According to Yahoo.News via AP: "Jake DeSantis, an executive vice president at AIG's Financial Products division, said Wednesday he's leaving the company and will donate his entire bonus to charity." The story goes on to talk about DeSantis' anger at being lied to by his employers, yada, yada, yada. You can guess, perhaps, that I'm feeling no sympathy for Mr. DeSantis. He says he spent the last six months working to straighten out this mess. He says he was promised the money, and that AIG and the AG's of NY and CT are meanies. Why no sympathy from me? Well, because he had to know that the whole thing was a fucking sham--he was after all deeply involved in the ongoing ponzi scheme that began with Paulson's giving these assclowns the first $65B--and yet he acquiesced to doing his bit to keep it all a secret until now, in order to obtain a payout in the 7 figure range. Fuck him. He should have manned up back in September and went to DoJ and spilled the beans.

You CAN'T ever go home anymore

I'm sitting at a Panera bakery/cafe at the moment. The spot where the Panera is, now, was, in my youth a sprawling lumberyard. Across the street, what used to "Houlton's Texaco, is now a Walgreen's. The Village Inn Pancake House (my first hourly wage job was there--I was the best fucking busboy in the WORLD!!) is still a block or so from here. But I found out a while back, from one of my brothers that the building, after numerous renovations was actually torn down and replaced a few years back. Omaha keeps molting like a damned lobster, shedding the old for the questionable new. You really can't go home, anymore; 'cause home ain't there. It's not enough that they've widened streets, moved whole neighborhoods and stopped selling beer at a reasonable price (.25/10 oz "draw"). I go into the bars I used to hang out in 35 years ago and all I see are a bunch of old farts--I wonder where my classmates went?

Addiction

Good morning, Class: Okay, so here's the deal. Joe Biden said, within the last news cycle, that Afghanistan is getting worse, not better. I agree, completely. How do we solve this problem. A.) We shift troops from Iraq to Afghanistan and use all of the tactics that haven't worked there to the same effect--and, btw, afford the MujahideenAlqueTaliban in Pakistan a terrific recruiting inducement. B.) We kill all of 'em--all the sortabrowns, and let GOD sort them out. C.) We try using our heads. The taliban are very, very nasty people. They are just as nasty as were the Iriquois, the Mohicans, the French and the English (along with their new colonists) in the King Phillip and Revolutionary wars. They're fighting for something that a lot of them believe in--and the ones that don't are probably the top commanders who are your usual messianic, nationalist nutjobs. The taliban have instituted Sharia law wherever they are in control and it is pretty grim living under such a "legal" regime. They outlaw most music and dancing, women being seen in public--without a burqa--and all liguor and drugs. In fact, in areas they've taken over, which include some pretty notorious poppy growing areas, they have eradicated that agriculture and replaced it with the growing of food crops. Oh, what's that I hear? They haven't done that, exactly? Oh, that's right. They initially outlawed all poppy cultivation and processing until they found out that it was a lot better way, than holding flatbread bake sales, to raise money for buying arms and ammo. But why would they do that, don't they know that drugs kill people and cause untold misery? Well, yes, they do. In fact they count on it. See, they know that some Afghans will do drugs (they can be beheaded when necessary--or convenient) but the bulk of their drugs go to other countries and a lot of them wind up here in the USA, USA, USA!!! Due to our War On Drugs, which has even less to do with reality than our War Against Iraqis Who Had Fuck All To Do With 9/11, the street price for good smack is much higher than it used to be. Therefor they get double the bang for the buck. They generate a lot of cash to buy nice things like swords, AK's, RPG's and IED's (not to mention some "weapons grade" plutonium, if the intelligence guys are to be believed) and they get to fuck up our society and create a tremendous strain on already strapped healthcare resources, social services agencies and the legal system. Howsabout we try something really whack, here? I'm just spitballing, mind you; but what if we just decriminalized drugs and treated drug abuse like, oh, I don't know, alcoholism? We could make the drugs which are currently expensive and often very dangerous (no QA to speak of) and untaxed into a product that is safe, reasonably priced and a revenue enhancer. Now, I know that some of you are going to say, "Well, if we legalize drugs like that, everyone will turn into drug-crazed zombies who will steal, rape and kill for their next "fix""! Regrettably that is very true. Addictive, intoxicating substances ALWAYS cause that sort of behavior. Why, I can't even have a couplea brewskis without wanting to off my neighbors, murder their kids and rape their wives--never mind what might happen if I drink a little vino, do a shooter of herradura or smoke a ciggie. It's frikkin' scary what drugs do to folks. Of course the other thing is that, even if you make drugs cheap, legal and safe; the junkies will still want to score their drugs illegally because they're just scum and that's the way they like it. But, damn it, I think it's time we just said the hell with it and cast caution to the winds. I think it's time we started placing more emphasis on fighting the War Against the Drug Profiteers. Whoopsie, I hope that didn't sound like I have an axe to grind with Big Pharma or anything like that. Now, if we can only convince Joe B. that punitive measures against users and street level dealers are a COMPLETE FUCKING WASTE OF TIME AND RESOURCES then perhaps we can get on with doing something positive. I'm not holding my breath.

Addiction

So, a nice light post about wonderful music.

I saw the most amazing violinist over the weekend: http://www.dbrmusic.com/dbr.htm I do some photography (pro bono of course) for a couple of local non-profits and the gig this weekend was to photograph this amazing musician and teacher: http://www.dbrmusic.com/dbr.htm Daniel Roumaine is a virtuoso on the violin, no question about that. But, he is so much more. He is a thoughtful, humorous and gifted instructor. Watching him put on two workshops with young people (ages 5 through late teens) was just a joy. He never condescended. He always challenged. And the kids always gave him more than they knew they had to give. What this world needs now is exactly what he has, a love for the process of education and the skill to do the job in such a profoundly uplifting way. Mr. Roumaine is returning to Oswego for a concert on March 21. He and two other composers are going to be playing their works as part of a program celebrating the Hudson River. I look forward to seeing, hearing and photgraphing him again. My photography is not the best, technically. Shit, it's not even close. My favorite subjects are musicians and dancers and I shoot in available light about 99% of the time. What I get are, literally, thousands of out-of-focus, underlit, crappy images. But, on the rare occasion when the gods of chiara-oscuro smile on me; well that's what makes it worthwhile. I'm going to try and put a few photos up with this (none from this weekend--I don't have releases from anyone). They will not be problematic as they will be mostly close-ups of hands and instruments or so blurred that they won't be recognizable. But I just want you to have the idea. If you're subject to motion sickness, take some dramamine. Otherwise, enjoy. The photos will be forthcoming. NB: The second photo was originally on film and when I looked at it the first time I said, "Shit, it's out of focus!". Then I looked at it again and said, "Oh, the microphone is sharp, everything else is moving, COOOOOOOOOOL!" Photo 1: Drums Along The Oswego--The Oswego Jazz Project Photo 2: Jason Quinn, former frontman for the "Blue Hornets"--This band included Jason (who has got a new CD out) and George McCann, an awesome guitar player who, last I heard was playing with James Montgomery. Photo 3: A short, but fiery guitarist (name escapes me) at Glen's Cool Grill and Hot Bar, Newburyport, MA. Photo 4: The sizzling hands of *****, former guitarist with ***** Joel.

One more shovelful of shit

Well, well, well: I actually had a really sweet post all set to go today. It featured unicorns--gay, pink unicorns--prancing about the blog and being oh, so droll. It was going to include a recipe for vodka enhanced buttermilk waffles with a belgian beer sauce. But, did that happen? NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO! That did not happen. And, why, you ask, the hell not? Well, it's because the other Gucci loafer dropped on the Commerce Sec'y imboglio. It now appears that ASSHOLE Judd Gregg had a reason, besides his unwillingness to sully hid idiotological purity, for turning down the job that Mr. Obama offered him. Seems he was investing money in the Portsmouth industrial park which was a former U.S. Airforce Base (Pease AFB) and a superfund site when it was closed some years back. This was being done while he was helping to steer millions of dollars to the former AB. He has made somewhere between a quarter and three quarters of a million bucks from his investments (through his brother's firm). Of course he says his conscience is clear. I doubt that he has a conscience. In any case, fuck him and all of his lying sacks of shit reptilican cronies. The unicorn post is in limbo, now. I'm sharpening the knives.

Constituent services

Re: My previous post on Assholes. The local paper ran an editorial on wednesday explaining why the GOP voted, in virtual lockstep, against the stimulus package. It was "partisan" of course, the author said, but it was more than that. In the finest tradition of representative government, the reptilican legislators were simply doing the job for which they were elected, voting their constituents' will on such matters. Now, aside from the fact that a lot of these ASSHOLES were elected by slim majorities--meaning that a lot of them were voting about half of their "constituents' will", there is another thing that needs to be talked about. That thing is that these ASSHOLES lie through their teeth. But, then of course, the credulous boobs that elected them in the first place always hear such lying as gospel truth and don't want the eeeeevil gubmint to confiscate their homes and businesses and send them all to labor camps so that the Obamanists can build atheist schools, open compulsory fetal abbatoirs, outlaw guns and make praying (not just in public, but privately) a felony. And they haven't even played the race card, YET. I was talking to a young fellow the evening before last, our local democratic party factotum. Nice guy, works for a living and does all the politicking on his own dime. He and I agree on one thing for sure; it ain't over. Folks who think that getting rid of Bushco was the "Win" are sadly mistaken. The GOP is a party that, at this point, is being run by a combination of political opportunists, corporatists and religious fundamentallyillists. They won't give up and there is nothing, no matter how foul, to which they will not stoop in the pursuit of their agendas. Am I paranoid? prolly. But that doesn't mean I'm wrong. A lot of people have been carping about some of Obama's appointments and also that Obama hasn't been reversing a lot of Bushco's policies. I'm not nuts about a lot of this stuff either. However, it's pretty plain to see that the GOP are willing to spike the stimulus package because it doesn't contain enough of the idiocy that got us into the situation we find ourselves in now. Of course, even though all but three of the GOP's members voted against the package they have been taking credit for "bringing home the bacon"--that's somehow different than pork? Lying fucking ASSHOLES. So, you know that the chances of making any substantive change in a lot of other stuff is going to have a snowball's chance in hell of getting done. I can't wait to see the GOP roll over on whoever Obama puts up for a SCOTUS seat. Oh, btw, Judd Gregg is still an ASSHOLE.

Assholes are as assholes do.

So, Okay, I've been listening to the people who know it all prove they don't know their ass from their elbow for at least the last couple of weeks. The reptilicans want the dems to play ball or they're gonna gum up the works? Good, fuck'em. Just make sure that they're names are spelled right when the shit hits the fan. As of today, Judd Gregg decided he'd "made a mistake" in accepting the offer to be Obama's Commerce Sec'y. In the first place it would appear that he's not being completely honest about the situation, in saying that he was "asked" and didn't seek the position--Obama himself said that Gregg seemed "eager". Secondly, I wouldn't bet that he didn't have an epiphany and realize "hey, wadeaminnit, I could be like, y'know a Jen-u-wine contender for the front desk! but not if I'm seen as a "sell out" to the Obamafascists! Yikes!!" Third, and this is most important to me--I'm glad he turned it down. Judd Gregg is a fucking asshole. He was an asshole son of a former governor of NH, an asshole U.S. Representative and has, since 1993 been an asshole U.S. Senator. When I lived in NH it was often difficult to choose between him and John Sununu the younger as to which was a bigger fucking asshole. He's a lying whanker and I hope this comes back to bite him in the ass when he starts complaining about how he and his party are not "adequately represented" in the current administration's group of advisers. Good riddance to bad trash. In other news it was quite warm and windy here in upstate NY today. I went to a wonderful art show, drank a couplea Bud's and met some nice folks. None of them were fucking assholes.

Since I don't got no teevee, I'm spared having to watch assholes like Tweety Matthews interview assholes like Mitch McConnell. It appears from the little intertubes synopses that I've seen that the GOP is going to do what they can to torpedo the stimulus bill. Well, anyone who expected them to do anything except continue to be the clueless fucks they've been since 1972 was in denial. During the eight years that Bushco had control of the WH and the six years that they controlled the courts and the congress the democrats were demonized as being unpatriotic, unamerican and uncaring for not voting for every bill that the reptilicans pushed out of committee. They were demonized for filibustering judicial nominees. Now, it appears those are exactly the strategies the GOP will employ to derail the stimulus and to stop Obama appointees from reaching the bench. Lying, fucking sacks of shit that they are the reptilicans of course are saying that this is all about "unnecessary spending" and not giving enough tax cuts to those who need them. It's past time for these scumbags to be pilloried for what they are. Traitors, plain and simple. They work against the interests of the United States and they should be called out for it. Roll call votes are necessary on every piece of legislation these assholes try to stop.

Things that spring, unbidden, into my head

Well, here it is almost 10 days into the Obama presidency and he has not been impeached--will wonders never cease. Between the forged birth certificate from HI; the deliberately botched oath of office (which was repeated, in secret--except for the reporters that were there), and the whole "Beyonce" thing, I would say that any credible news organization (Cue "FoxNEWS" music) will have more than enough ammo to bring down this "uppitelitistofascist". I hate to have to say this, because it seems so patently obvious to me, but this is not the time to stop worrying about the marginalized fuckheads who elected Bush to two terms. Some suggest that we should engage the members of the GOP who are reasonable. Sure, go ahead and do that. In the meantime do not let the asshats that equate Obama with the anti-KKKrist get a pass. Fuck "Kiss and make up". I wanta do a Norquist on the crazy bastards.

Delousing the White House

There has been a fair amount of rather dispiriting news over he last several weeks. Among other items, the nearly three week rampage by the zionists in Gaza, leaving destruction, death and hundreds or thousands of newly minted jihadists for Hamas and Al Queada to use as willing tools. There has also been a disturbing trend on the part of the democratic leadership in congress to say that now is not the time to investigate Bushco's eight year abuse of the powers of the presidency or to seek out and punish those guilty of crimes in that regard. Despite these and other items I remain hopeful that today's inauguration of President Barack Obama will signal the beginning of a return to something like sane foreign and domestic policy in this nation. One can only hope.

MLK, Freedom, democracy and FGF.

Next monday is MLK Day and the inauguration is in the same week? I'm surprised that the WH didn't try to move one or the other. I'm gonna try embedding these videos, if not at least the links. I guess it's gonna be the links. U2's "Pride" http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=56mjwycKuXA&feature=related Leonard Cohen's, "Democracy" http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OETwbVBPI1U and "Everybody Knows" http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=h27HRNm_r4U Well, maybe it ain't FGF for you, but it will sure as hell feel good when Bush has been consigned to the dustbin of history. Fuck Bush.

Freedom's just another word for nothin' left to lose.

It's fixin' to get cold here in Oswego. The cold weather that's been freezing the mid-west is due to arrive here late today or early tomorrow. I'm doing what I can to keep my incoming water supply from freezing (I'm building a 5 x 10 room in that corner of the cellar) and stuffing more skwerls into any gaps I can still see daylight through. I had dinner with friends last evening who offered me a place to sleep if things got too frigid here. I'll be okay. I was listening to NPR a bit ago and there was a piece on "Tell Me More" about the jailing and deportation of undocumented immigrants. It focused on Central Falls, R.I. It becomes apparent, listening to the reporter speaking, that the major issue in jailing and deporting these folks is that it provides federal monies to the state of R.I. which in turn gives the monies to the folks who run the facilities. It's disgusting that this is happening. We have a big ICE presence here in Oswego, but they don't seem to do a hell of a lot. All of this stuff got me to thinking about the homeless. I've spent several years of my life living in some pretty strange situations, but I've never been on the street. I CAN imagine not having someplace to call "home", but I've never experienced that situation where there is, literally, no place to lay down that is at least out of the weather. Surely we can do better than this.

Abstinence only works--NOT!

I don't have a lot of time to play with this at the moment, but the latest figures on teens having babies is showing an upward trend. This link: http://news.yahoo.com/nphotos/HOLD-RELEASE-UNTIL-830-AM-graphic-shows-teen-birth-rate/photo//090107/480/a1b8bc26badc48b892e2bed09c70df19//s:/ap/20090107/ap_on_he_me/med_teen_births is to just one of several stories out there, I'm sure. Of course the KKKristianreich is saying that the reason for the upturn is because of the fact that kids are still being taught about contraceptives. Sounds like bullshit to me, but then all of their other religiopalaver IS bullshit, so why would this be any different? People, kids especially, are gonna have sex, no matter what. If you keep them dumb, the barefoot and pregnant part are the other two legs of the KKKristian Population Outtacontrol Quiverful Program. I gotta run, more rant later.

a good profile, demo; now turn and face the camera--and hold the sign up so's we can read the numbers!

I think this will be short. I am still somewhat incapacitated from a fall on New Year's Eve (not attributable to alcohol--damn the luck!) and have been spending the last few days trying to make some sort of order out of the 200G or so of photo files that I had on 4 separate hard drives. I was able to pick up a 250G Seagate Free Agent (my bro works in HD development there and he said I made a good score at $52.50). I've been moving files from the other hard drives and deleting the extraneous document copies, etc.,. I just wonder how much of the stuff that I keep on my "box" is attributable to a desire to save records and how much is attributable to the familial "packrat" gene. My dear mother used to keep a daily journal of what she did, where she went, how much she spent and so forth. She kept it longhand (beautiful cursive script) in steno notebooks. I have no idea how many of the things she went through but I do know that, for her, to throw anything away was next to impossible. I gave her a set of salt and pepper shakers in 1970 (I got them while stationed in Germany) and when I was eating dinner at her house one day, several years later, asked if she still had them. "Oh, yes," she said, "I treasure them." I asked where they were. She told me that she kept them with her fine china (she had a set of Spode and another of Limoges, IIRC) which she also, NEVER USED! She thought they were far too valuable to ever be entrusted to the grubby mitts of her brood. The summer before she passed, while I was home on a visit she told me that she had been putting things aside and told me the salt & pepper set was in a box with my name on it. I told her that I appreciated the gesture but that I woud prefer she give them to one of my siblings as I would simply lose them. She was okay with that. She also had a package for me, in a large manila envelope. It included photos of her and my dad on her wedding day, photos of my dad in India--and his unit patch, done on leather--from his days in the USAAF during WWII, my natal photo (from St. Joe's hospital), various photos of me and my older and younger siblings, my class photos from every year I'd had one taken, my AF photos and every single birthday card, letter and postcard I had ever sent her. It was not anything like the sort of pile that several of my siblings had, but I was astonished that she had kept everything for so many years. I still pull out that envelope from time to time and I feel her presence in those moments. Several years ago I wrote a song, "Kodak Moment" about the experience of viewing those photos and the memories that they awakened. I will share it one of these days when I have the time, energy and requisite knowledge to record it and put it up on this blog or elsewhere. Well, I guess it was not as short a post as I was thinking it would be.

Not quite the resume I was thinking I'd have

So, I got tagged by no blood for hubris (http://nobloodforhubris.blogspot.com/2008/12/and-now-for-something-completely_29.html) and I am supposed to make a list of my jobs, all of them. I don't know how chronlogical it's gonna be, but here goes. paperboy (route carrier) Omaha World Herald. busboy. cook, prep cook KFC & Chicken Delight. warehouseman, Sears Roebuck. Inventory Mgmt Specialist, USAF waiter, bartender. counterman, power and hand tool sales and service. clerk, buyer and salesman, industrial supplies. inside sales, applications "engineer", power transmission components (bearings, belts, motors, etc. home improvement contractor. directory assistance operator. clerk, state regulatory activities, Verizon, Public Policy and External Affairs. working on my freakin' house. I've also been a photographer for about 25 years, but never really make any money at it (although it pays much better than writing poetry!).

12 Days of Christmas? Yeah, I got your 12 Days, right here!

Good morning: Well, since I haven't had time to write my 2008 Christmas letter you'll be getting to read a retread. Maybe I'll get the other one done if some other projects get fininshed. If not, well, we'll always have 2002! ________________________________________________ December 19, 2002 Dear Family and Friends; Seasons Greetings. I know that all of you are doing last minute shopping and gift wrapping (a complete list of my sizes, color and fabric preferences and web addresses for all the gift registries I have signed up for is attached). I’m also sure that since you have families and invite people to your homes you’re stuck with having to do a lot of cooking, cleaning and decorating for the holidays. As for myself , I do my best holiday celebrating on the move: just look out your window, I’m pulling up in front of your house as you read this! I don’t even want to talk about politics this year as, well, we just got our butts kicked and can never hold our heads up again (oh, wait, that was my Cornhusker’s speech!). In any event I wanted to share with all of you a cautionary tale about how those who lose track of the true meaning of this holiday season will rue their bitter, empty lives. And so it goes… A Christmas Carol for 2002 (Ms. Stewart wanted to call it a Christmas Martha until we explained that it wasn’t named for a woman) We open on a scene of shattered domestic bliss in the master bedroom of a palatial Manhattan townhome, bedecked with every manner of ornament and decoration appropriate to the season. and yet, something is amiss. Martha lies abed, tossing and turning. Hers is a lonely life in these troubled days. Stock in her eponymous empire is in free-fall; a chorus of market regulators, congressional investigators, various state’s attorneys general, and the public-at-large call for her to be jailed, fined or; God forbid, forced to live in their meanly narrow lifestyles. Her old, dear friend, Sam Waksal (that rat-bastard, lying weasel) has involved her in his own contretemps regarding the Imclone scandal and has largely succeeded in deflecting attention towards her: she is such a convenient target! Finally, she drops off into a fitful sleep, filled with fevered dreams, nightmares of living like everyone else. Suddenly, at the foot of her bed, who should appear but the Spirit of Christmas Past (who looks suspiciously like Trent Lott!) to warn her of impending doom. Martha is carried back to her youth. Born Martha Kostyra to parents of 2nd generation Polish-Americans, she spent her early years in suburban Nutley, NJ (which exit is that?). The Spirit in a winding sheet (looking more like Trent with each passing moment!) invites her to stand at the table while her Christmas Past family enjoys their holiday repast of pierogi, guamki, red cabbage, bread with fresh lard and borscht—followed by Kolachis for dessert. This cheery scene is replete with evidence of Martha’s early forays into event planning and decorating. Working with pipe cleaners, egg cartons, dixie cups, paper towel roll cores and library paste young Martha could fashion an entire Christmas Scene right down to the baby Jesus giggling in delight as the Three Wise Men made Frosty the Snowman and Mary mixed up a batch of spicy Mogen David gluhwein for the festive occasion. We fast forward now, several years, to see Martha as a teenager. Already recognized as a prodigy by her High School Home Economics teacher, she is in charge of tree trimming, interior and exterior displays, gift wrapping, holiday communications (Christmas Cards, party invitations, Letters to Santa and thank you notes) for her school as well as catering several civic and private functions (once again library paste comes in handy—as an inspired choice for a last minute thickener for sauces and gravies). Additionally, as a volunteer consultant to the Nutley, NJ Department of Public Works, she assists in the planning, siting and construction of the Manger Scene (complete with paid actors and live animals) that is such a resounding success in downtown Nutley. Ah, but there’s a rub. It seems that Martha has, much as the cuckoo in nature, pushed her siblings out of the nest. Her five brothers and sisters have been put up with neighbors or relatives as one by one they are shouldered aside to make way for the various accoutrement of Martha’s chosen profession. In a final break with any semblance of familial conviviality Martha caters her own wedding, charging her parents such an exorbitant price (although it is, admittedly, a fair value) for the reception that they are forced to sign their home over to her as a means of payment. Her guide gazes at her dolefully, in silent accusation. “No, no!” cries Martha, “I was only trying to be graceful in a graceless world. Where’s the harm in that?”. The Ghost of Christmas Past merely shakes his head , sadly, and fades from view… Martha jerks bolt upright in her pencil-post, Gambian lacewood bed and shivers beneath her eider quilt. “Wow, what a wild, wild ride,” she thinks, “that’s the last time I have three eggnogs with Hennessy XO just before bedtime.” But then, just as she is ready to adjust her buckwheat hull pillow and drift back into dreamland, she notices a troll at the foot of her bed. “Who are you!!!?”, she shrieks. “I am ze ghozt of Chrizmaz Prezent.” murmurs the apparition, in a voice uncannily similar to Henry Kissinger’s. “But, But what are you doing here in my room?”, she whimpers. “Vell,” he says, “I vaz zuppozed to have ziz gig on a fact finding commizzion, but zey zaid I had a conflict of integrity or zomezing like zat. Zo, here I am, your perzonal imparzial obzerver. Let’z go for a ride” Martha makes a very short trip through time to four o’clock in the afternoon of the following day. It’s a huge party. No expense has been spared (it is, after all 100% tax deductible). All is in readiness for the fete. A beautiful Bristlecone Pine, named Methuselah, believed, at the age of 4,767 years, to be the world’s oldest living tree has been lovingly chopped down, flown in from high atop the Inyo mountains of California, festooned with garlands of cymbidium and onsidium orchids, draped with hand drawn sterling silver and 24 kt gold tinsel, lit with nearly a thousand beeswax tapers and covered with hundreds of blown glass ornaments and a stunning tree topper that utilizes in its design a recently discovered Faberge Egg. The linen is measured in acres; there are gardens of flowers; orchards of fruit; herds, gaggles, flocks and prides of various beasts, sizzling on spits, roasting in ovens, bubbling in stews. Sideboards groan with a surfeit of sweetmeats and tender victuals. Hogsheads of imported ales, casks of the finest wines, jereboams of Veuve Cliqout; dusty, dusky bottles of cognac and port that were laid down when Napoleon was but an overweening prat of a Corsican Corporal. All is in readiness: the doors to the great hall are flung wide and slam against the outer wall, creating a booming echo in the unpeopled silence. Martha is distraught, inconsolable. Does no one love her ? (Jeez, what an idiotic question—Hello!), will none sup with her on this blessed holiday? Has she been forsaken by all? (those same craven suitors who once longed for her merest nod, her benediction, her bons mots, “It’s a good thing”.) But no, what is this, the shade of the Nobel Whiner has pulled open a drawer to reveal the root of the travail. “It zeemz, Martha, you have forgotten to mail ze friggin invitationz. You vere zo caught up in your cheezy zhtock zhwaps and Imclone machinationz zat you committed a faux paz of epic proportionz”. Martha faints dead away. By now our heroine, having endured two horrific nocturnal visits is nearly out of her mind from sleep deprivation (it will takes weeks—and repeated applications of chamomile and lousewort masks to remove the facial puffiness) and scared nearly witless. But her ordeal is not yet at an end. Once more she awakes to find a fearsome specter at her elbow—this time it’s none other than Jacko, the Gloved One himself. The two moonwalk their way into the not too distant future where Martha suddenly finds herself in a shockingly loud, International Orange, “relaxed fit” jumpsuit and realizes that the room she’s in is not a closet, or a bathroom (although it does have a sleek, stainless-steel toilet bolted to the floor). It’s her home for the foreseeable future, a 6 x 10 cell in the maximum security block at Ossining, NY. Gone the toothsome viands of yesteryear, absent the sumptuous furnishings and appointments of her previous life. In their place, a rude, plebian table. A functional, unfashionable wardrobe. And there on the table, where the silver glove points, an oft creased and stained piece of paper, with that same precise, wonderfully cursive hand. A Christmas menu, to whit: Salsiccon de Bologna Fricassee au Pain Wonder, avec Pommes de terre du bebe et Legumes gris.* (Fried baloney sandwiches on Wonder Bread with Tater Tots and canned vegetables) “Is this my end?”, she shrieks, “Is this how it must be? Oh, please, I beg of you, just one more chance, just one more chance, just one more….. Slowly, as if rising from a great depth Martha swims to the the surface of conciousness; realizes she is still in her comfortable bed, in her lovely apartment in the Greatest City on Earth. She rushes to the window and flings it open. Drinking in the beauty that is Central Park West she spies an urchin walking with head down into the wind and calls down to him. “You there, young man. Go to Balducci’s on 11th and get me a 30 pound free range goose, some foie gras and a few bottles of Dom Perignon. We’ll have a wonderful Christmas dinner, just you and I and two or three score producers, prep and prop people, publicists and assorted hangers on. No, on second thought wait right there.” Dressing quickly in a well worn pair of keds, pedal pushers and a threadbare, “ I’M WITH STUPID” sweatshirt, Martha runs down the stairs and out the door past the startled concierge. “C’mon kid,” she says “I think today is a perfect day for a breakfast of Twinkies and RC Cola!”. Thus ends Martha’s plight as she returns to a simpler, less avaricious and less contentious lifestyle. In later years it is hoped that Martha will relax her standards to the point where she can retire to a double wide in a mobile home park in Dade County, Florida; fashion clothing, accessories and home furnishings from various food and beverage containers; spend her sunset years watching HSN, WWF and the Weather Channel; learn how to make a really tasty possum fajita and live happily ever after. There, now; that wasn’t so bad, was it? Actually, this idea was batted around by several of the cable channels, but Martha wanted to be involved in all aspects of the production—from storyboarding to smorgasbording and it just ain’t gonna happen. My life is good, I’m staying near the lifeboats just in case, but so far we are all still afloat here at the Real Phone Company (Verizon). I was able to get to my 35th High School Reunion this past summer. I think this will probably be the last one where we go up and down the stairs or wear shoes that aren’t white. I had a lot of fun trying to remember who my classmates were or where I live. Lucky you, I’m out of paper (print version). Happy Holidays, all the best in 2003. Love, Peace, Prosperity and Blessings * Okay, so my frenglish is tres excreable, sue moi.

First day of winter, my ass!

Well, here we are, December 21st, the winter solstice when the weather turns cold and we can expect snow. That would be COLDER and MORE SNOW in my case. It's snowing sideways at the moment and the temp is hovering around 19 degrees. The forecast through tuesday calls for 14-27 inches of snow, depending upon how much you've pissed GOD off by being non-KKKristian. I think I'm gonna get buried. The news on the economic front continues to get worse. I'm almost thankful that I am not, statistically, unemployed. I'm less thankful that I am, not statistically but literally, not generating any income. Getting a job would be a good idea if there were any to get. The state of NY, just like every other state, is looking for ways to save money and increase revenues so they will be cutting school budgets and raising fees for all sorts of things. I think that the net effect of such measures is counter productive but they're not asking for my input at the Governor's office. Bush is just as clueless on the economy as he has been on the war and everything else. And yet, there are still people that think he will be remembered as a good president. That's not just a "Jones" that's a "Jonesville Jones". Well, if you'll excuse me, I have to go get my winter coat out of the traps.

The burning in the Alaskan "bush"

Good morning: I have been busy trying to stuff newspapers in those cracks that were still letting in Ol' Man Winter (and were too small for the frozen squirrels that fit the larger openings) and in getting ready for the holidays--I'm working on a special "seasonal gruel" that includes some of those same critters! However, I have been absent from my duties here at the blog (your good fortune) and a week old bit of news has caught my attention: Now, I'm not a fan of burning churches (regardless how odious, depending on their beliefs or adherents, I consider them to be) but this particular fire, much like the one in Westboro Baptist Church leader Fred Phelps' garage seems deliciously ironic. Of course, since it was an arson job (at least it is being investigated as such by the local fire department) speculation abounds as to it's perpetrator(s). While various reichwing websites and blogs are pushing the meme that it was set by militant gays--It takes an army of village people to raze a church?--some other folks have suggested that it might be an act of GOD or maybe an act of Sarah the ImPalinator to extend her 15 minutes of fame. I don't know about any of that. But this was my comment over at Ed Brayton's "Dispatches from the culture wars" blog (http://scienceblogs.com/dispatches/2008/12/palins_church_burns_blame_the.php): _______________________________________________________________________________ Ed: There are times when the evidence is right there in front of us; to wit, the WSB's weekly schedule: Friday, December 12, 2008 5:00 PM--Potluck dinner (menu includes, harpseal terrine, narwhal tartare, saddle of airsniped wolf and lime jelloil mold) 6:00 PM--Witch Whackin' Workshop with the Rev. John Muthee 7:00 PM--Speakin' In Tongues Gospel Karaoke 8:30 PM--Joel's Army, Kristian Kadet Korps--an exciting demonstration of the U.S. Army's M2A1-7 flamethrower, bring the s'mores! ____________________________________________________________________________ Just to be perfectly clear, I don't hate christians, but I sure as hell dislike KKKristians and there are far too many of them using their "religion" as both sword and shield to push their fucked-up, hate filled agendas. They had better hope that the GOD they profess to believe in is a more tolerant deity than they depict him as.