Tuesday, December 15

Sharp diamond softness: Doggy Dharma eDitty in C# minor

as we act, so too we live
as we're taught, so too we give
as we share we kill the sieve
that sticks our mind, a sharpened shiv

it is neither nor is it not
either or but both and
however blowing ones nose
when full is preferable
to breathing snot.


pay it forward

Saturday, August 29

Jazz duet: Asynchropated Transcription

floating on sound's wave 7 oclock PST

class 0 civilizations are not conducive
to long-distance travel, take 1 step
spread out 2, step-lightly at 3

blow up the tumble house
'cause the neighbors will see
and come jumping thru holes
to check what will be

you leap - maybe you fall or your wings
fall from you in sheets of fire
from one ball of light to another
i'd say with a silvery hue
a little of white and a little of blue....
the mela will shimmer in vuefinders too
as the glowing sannyasin have readers in tow.

a bit of the saint and a bit of the shrew
can only be possible just within you
eat pine nuts in toothpaste a real fine chew
but the crunchy ones hurt and tend to get spewed.

some kinda rub is that field in our face
when we take shots in blackness
that hide in the loft of your visionshort place
giving rebounded swimming instructions
floating in space will tumble us round
as that ball juggling all licks
our orange burnt blistered face

playing golf with moon might be hard on the fish
in layered formation a base facing four
might take flight under wars wing or
blocked with piecrust baked clear,
noses held hard eyes on full tear
as this inverted mirror is broken
shattered and scattered in dust!

heisenberg's called on the deutsches remand
can hardly hurt rocks crushing minds hard derailed.
the saucers and whirlies been advertised twice
once in dumb headed laughter another
one the other one clear in blind sight

occult fire eats curry and colors abound
while that scarred one shows rainbows
in hungry'd demand of the river of sounds
growing raucous and vibrant as one gets to grow.

Blowing whistles at the dark: acapella

To Those of you that Pose as Our voice:

Gentlewomen and gentlemen,
you are taking some of the last steps
you will ever be taking these days.
Mind closely where you place your toes.
This world is getting so much less willing
to give our place under sol to ruthlessly
mindless unconscionables. Our voices
are finding each others hearts in this
darkness you've spread as wake
in your passages towards irrelevance.

These steps you are edging towards
are those blind faltering ones so prevalent
in mad cows, an abrahamic-borne Creutzfeldt-Jakob
variance, an endemic spongiform
encephalopathy of sheep and goat herders, you see.
your father's fathers grand-get is no longer viable,
rational or fully a human variant it appears.
what with your ravenous consumption
of our own, the shortness of sight, the ears
which serve only, evidently, to hear your own
night-shredded gruntings of perversional delights,
your tongues hanging swollen and droolish,
snouts dripping with the feces lapped freely
out of wizened hatetainted unwise masters.

it has been too long, too terribly, terribly long,
since you and your offshot farrow of divisionary
squinch-eyed mutations diverged from our branched
vibrant family. we've tried - in our quiet ways, in our
rhythmically muted statements of caution, in our
fearful trickled-on exclamations of shock at your
willful deafness, in our rage-filling reactioned masses
to turn you from this cliff'd path you've chosen.
We cry tears of sorrow-laden hearts that we have failed.

sniff... sniff... sniff...

And though we will have insufficiently grieved,
and these tears for you dry in place on our faces,
and our snotcrusted sleeves get pulled up - we, as one,
in our twos and threes, in our tens and our hundreds,
in our mourning-draped millions, will come to excise
and cauterize your gangrenously dis-eased
communicabilites that are infecting this, our body,
that threaten this family of wholeness-seeking members
who are uniting in the dark-rending light now dawning.

Thank you for your efforts. you will make sure the lights
get turned fully on as you leave on your cycled way.
oh... and goodbye ... uh thanks for the object lesson
your passing leaves on our doorsteps, in our heads,
on our hearts... May your Bardo be brief.


Blowing whistles at the dark: duet

2, 4, 6, 8, so awfully close, it's not too late...

my dearest sweet Sibylline turk
bless you for your tireless work,
for the truths to be spoken through gags
placed, in our names, undercover of flags,
for the beating and tearing at those walls
built by those men whose shrunken balls
ride hidden up inside in fearful anticipations
of us in our millions reclaiming our nations.


For so many things Sibel start here:


and follow the trail of which she speaks down the rabbit hole to burrow through those fouled warrens...

and ask your self if it is pleased with your so-called self-named betters...

and if the answer is NO! feel free; join in the rising ragged roar of NO MORE!

* * *

You do good work Brad. Thank You.

PART 1 (appx. 51 mins) - Direct

PART 2 (appx. 35 mins) - Direct continues

PART 3 (appx. 17 mins) - Direct continues

PART 4 (appx. 43 mins) - Cross

PART 5 (appx. 54 mins) - Redirect & Recross
* * *

Monday, August 17

Songs in the Key of Light 3.2

TPTB: Too Predatory is Too Banal

Look smart! boys and girls. start practicing your dodo calls for the Long Savasana.
evolutions clock has run out on the too predatory, too banal niche you self-evolved for
which, if you could contemplate more than in free moments, should chill even you.

shame ain't it! you didn't figure it out however many hundreds?
thousands? of years ago you decided slavish specialization
in greed engorged excessiveness was any kind of good idea.

that's ok. you gave it your best shot... adios

even though you killed a lot of us along the way,

who didn't evolve down your particularly offensive deadend. we are a tolerant
and robust species and there might be some amongst us that will even miss you guys.
that wouldn't be me. the foulness within which you made your habitat
should have choked out your kind shortly after your chosen decision.

but just to show i've not somehow been tainted by your blood,
i'll offer to chant you through the Bardo. it may, for you, be a somewhat
longer journey than say Genghis or Adolf, but as he was one of your minions
he, like you, no longer count... probably wouldn't surprise me if Genghis was too.

Oh, and just so you'll know, we plan on making the last revisionist change to
history ever in memory of your passing. the stories of your kind will be part,
the cautionary part of course, of the instruction of children.

The Powers That Be will forever more be known as
The Powers That Bent...


Songs in the Key of Light 3.1

Check balancing :Blowing whistles at the dark

those poor soon to be unselected officials in
congress have bowed to the floor once again to
those masterfull clowns with more money than sense
and whose functional shelf life is now down two-tenths.

don't worry on whether the doors have been shut
or anyone notice your lines have been cut
the reason you're landing so hard on your butt
is not learning before not to act such a slut.

an apology to most women and some of the men
for those few hundred in the domed house who sold out and then
while we blinked at such bidness took bets at the tables
on wall st without slowing down just because they were able.

(Only, them and their owners slew that one so long ago
that any connection has fallen away in the minds they have slowed
and the twisted thing is - honest able took a fall
so his brother's old cronies could gather it all.)

you only have short times left before we next choose
if you fall to the street or get out on a boat with a couple of clues,
i'd urge you to shake off that hold on your throat,
forget about jetplanes, stop being such weaselly stoats.

the people have spoken, you just will not hear that
your being for sale is not anywhere near what
the terms of the deal was! did we not make ourselves clear
you were there for OUR benefit not yours... you got to steer.

soon all of your troubles will fade clean away
just like you did with our semi-nostaligic 401k
which you gave to those bloodsucks without batting a lash
while YOUR socialist health care got paid by our cash.

you must fail to appreciate all our simpler ways
from behind those cold eyes you use during the day
as you count up the checks you've put out for today
and watch our most intimate lives as you sit there and play.

well we hope you've had fun and we sure hope it was real
as the time shared on our end has been quite an ordeal.
oh, maybe the Too Predatory is Too Banal for you but i hear
they'll be needing some guards at the gates of their fears.


Songs in the Key of Light 2.7

The “See it – Sing it” Suite

to be a mirror in the face of fear issued hate

to give back to the mind that will open too late

to go deep in with the out our novel mandate

one only must polish that self carried slate.

if no one is left the stars will not cry

they’ll yet shine on bare rock in midsummer night’s sky

the path is still trod with it’s own reasons why

in situ or vivo or other worldline that energies fly.

darkness is deathly afraid of the light

as it shows it be mere thin shadow we fight

not substantial outposts of terrible night

and it scatters like moths scared in our sight.

evolution’s monkey has grown out of its past

and now stands tall as waves of incredible mass

breaking on false shores we now know won’t last

water-age blindness a curse we’ve just passed…

into the heat of the new forge’s fire

ceaselessly climbing to this cycle’s spire

our mission to work in groupings entire

as the turn of the wheel goes on spiralling higher.


Thursday, August 13

an offering to universe...

a serious dog and his jerry beared bud

Shorter Chip: truck riding dog that has evoked many comments, among which was "He's such a serious dog." i've always been a little too proud of that one made by Chip's 'dam grandmother'...

pride goeth before this fall

iam just about positive now about coincidence ...
or deja whathaVeyoU, or synchronificance or what
if it's entanglement. and detrained entrapment is the far poll
coming fast, and oh so hot, but
with clarity and resolve and steadfastness, as if true
the stories told us of Great Men, cut
from whole cloth that now, ignobly worn to tatters,
their airs are to be opened, eviscerated
and finally shut.


Wednesday, August 5

quicksilver'd mentation...

the structures one perceives are nothing more than energetic interactions between the 'world' centered focus point and that point in consciousness that is the awareness perceiving it.

i put Korzybski's General Semantics so-called quotes around 'world' to indicate that there is no separation between that which is apparently perceived and that which is apparently perceiving. (the single quote gives visual aid in distinguishing some 'thing' which exists only as an abstraction from this energetic stew in which we are hopefully aware and for which there exists no referent.)

it may seem iam making an unprovable statement, but that would be so only if energy, and any of it's inexhaustible form, were capable of existing in a solitary and fully discrete state. that is very provably untrue. the act of quantification (fuller comprehension of qualities and characteristics - 'flavors') negates a 'separate' existence of that undergoing quantification. the very act of 'observing' merely increases the field of conscious awareness 'in play' bringing that under 'observation' into that which is 'observing' and seemingly giving it a 'separate' existence.

getting one's self overwrought, or even merely wrought, about this 'thing' or that 'situation' or some other 'person' is akin to becoming obsessed with that one little hair on the back of your head that grew at a faster rate than others and insists! on poking out orthogonally as you handcomb your hair snagging on the dehydrated, wind-chapped and cracked skin of your fingertip. that damn hair is part of you. you can grab it and pull, or cut it off, or shave your whole head in a fit of pique, but it is still part of you.


Reality cannot be found except in One single source, because of the interconnection of all things with one another. ... I do not conceive of any reality at all as without genuine unity. ... I maintain also that substances, whether material or immaterial, cannot be conceived in their bare essence without any activity, activity being of the essence of substance in general.
(Gottfried Leibniz, 1646 - 1716)

Tuesday, July 28

a diminished fifth for diminished thieves

Hey You, front run this...

Home loan, greed dream, blood food

we are a standing wave of liberty
who no longer have a home
for the land we loved that bore US
turned out just to be on loan.

freedom's hopes flow with jagged
clinks from crooked claws of greed
where once glades of égalité
stood sentry to a dream.

we bought the tale of working hard,
staunchly paying with our blood
raising families honestly, tho
worried sick as how to pay for food.

we never minded, much, your directors
& thought your boards were somewhat quaint
until, like jackals in a pen fed gravy
coated tidbits from a genuflected saint,

you lost fullness in your outlook
and sold your word of honor for slightly less
than what it takes to wink and nod
and down a drink, your hand up someones dress.

well it's time to pay the piper full and proper due,
with compound interest and with force,
for playing such loosely intoxicating
counterpoints, non-violently, of course.

If you'll look inside your bonus envelopes and
somehow see OUR million nearly triggered fears,
it's only all that glitters giving your eyes forecast
of coming storms, through cringing bitter tears.

Friday, July 24

Toasting Ghosts and other simple pleasures

iam reading thru the HalfPastHuman latest book of the Bardo that we seem to be approaching. Go there. Buy it. Read it. Come back. We can chat. i'll wait.

or, if not, before you go...

i've got a bottle of Laphroaig here that's mostly full. join me for a glass. it's my toasting the dead bottle. i'd be honored if you'd care to share it with me.

i've always thought this guy had a real way with
simple words and simple rhymes that say things
that aren't near as simple as they may seem.
who knows...we might yet waken from this fey dream.


Asatoma satgamaya
Tamasoma jyotir gamaya
Mrityorma amritamgamaya

Lead us from the unreal to the real.
Lead us from the darkness to the light.
Lead us from mortality to immortality.

Thank you Billy.

Auguries of Innocence
William Blake

To see a world in a grain of sand
And a heaven in a wild flower,
Hold infinity in the palm of your hand
And eternity in an hour.
A robin redbreast in a cage
Puts all heaven in a rage.
A dove-house filled with doves and pigeons
Shudders hell through all its regions.
A dog starved at his master's gate
Predicts the ruin of the state.
A horse misused upon the road
Calls to heaven for human blood.
Each outcry of the hunted hare
A fibre from the brain does tear.
A skylark wounded in the wing,
A cherubim does cease to sing.
The game-cock clipped and armed for fight
Does the rising sun affright.
Every wolf's and lion's howl
Raises from hell a human soul.
The wild deer wandering here and there
Keeps the human soul from care.
The lamb misused breeds public strife,
And yet forgives the butcher's knife.
The bat that flits at close of eve
Has left the brain that won't believe.
The owl that calls upon the night
Speaks the unbeliever's fright.
He who shall hurt the little wren
Shall never be beloved by men.
He who the ox to wrath has moved
Shall never be by woman loved.
The wanton boy that kills the fly
Shall feel the spider's enmity.
He who torments the chafer's sprite
Weaves a bower in endless night.
The caterpillar on the leaf
Repeats to thee thy mother's grief.
Kill not the moth nor butterfly,
For the Last Judgment draweth nigh.
He who shall train the horse to war
Shall never pass the polar bar.
The beggar's dog and widow's cat,
Feed them, and thou wilt grow fat.
The gnat that sings his summer's song
Poison gets from Slander's tongue.
The poison of the snake and newt
Is the sweat of Envy's foot.
The poison of the honey-bee
Is the artist's jealousy.
The prince's robes and beggar's rags
Are toadstools on the miser's bags.
A truth that's told with bad intent
Beats all the lies you can invent.
It is right it should be so:
Man was made for joy and woe;
And when this we rightly know
Through the world we safely go.
Joy and woe are woven fine,
A clothing for the soul divine.
Under every grief and pine
Runs a joy with silken twine.
The babe is more than swaddling bands,
Throughout all these human lands;
Tools were made and born were hands,
Every farmer understands.
Every tear from every eye
Becomes a babe in eternity;
This is caught by females bright
And returned to its own delight.
The bleat, the bark, bellow, and roar
Are waves that beat on heaven's shore.
The babe that weeps the rod beneath
Writes Revenge! in realms of death.
The beggar's rags fluttering in air
Does to rags the heavens tear.
The soldier armed with sword and gun
Palsied strikes the summer's sun.
The poor man's farthing is worth more
Than all the gold on Afric's shore.
One mite wrung from the labourer's hands
Shall buy and sell the miser's lands,
Or if protected from on high
Does that whole nation sell and buy.
He who mocks the infant's faith
Shall be mocked in age and death.
He who shall teach the child to doubt
The rotting grave shall ne'er get out.
He who respects the infant's faith
Triumphs over hell and death.
The child's toys and the old man's reasons
Are the fruits of the two seasons.
The questioner who sits so sly
Shall never know how to reply.
He who replies to words of doubt
Doth put the light of knowledge out.
The strongest poison ever known
Came from Caesar's laurel crown.
Nought can deform the human race
Like to the armour's iron brace.
When gold and gems adorn the plough
To peaceful arts shall Envy bow.
A riddle or the cricket's cry
Is to doubt a fit reply.
The emmet's inch and eagle's mile
Make lame philosophy to smile.
He who doubts from what he sees
Will ne'er believe, do what you please.
If the sun and moon should doubt,
They'd immediately go out.
To be in a passion you good may do,
But no good if a passion is in you.
The whore and gambler, by the state
Licensed, build that nation's fate.
The harlot's cry from street to street
Shall weave old England's winding sheet.
The winner's shout, the loser's curse,
Dance before dead England's hearse.
Every night and every morn
Some to misery are born.
Every morn and every night
Some are born to sweet delight.
Some are born to sweet delight,
Some are born to endless night.
We are led to believe a lie
When we see not through the eye
Which was born in a night to perish in a night,
When the soul slept in beams of light.
God appears, and God is light
To those poor souls who dwell in night,
But does a human form display
To those who dwell in realms of day.

Wednesday, July 22

Burning Down The Mission with Jimmy

Way to go Jimmy!

I heartily and fully concur with what you have written recently regarding the institutionalized discrimination against women and girls and its basis and ubiquity. I applaud you.

You tell me there's an angel in your tree
Did he say he'd come to call on me
For things are getting desperate in our home
Living in the parish of the restless folks I know

You have really opened a can of worms though. By calling out the patriarchs on this one little character defect they share, you are agitating for far more than just the welfare of half the human race. You are seeding the thought that discrimination of any sort, and, by implication, it's cousin, entitlement AND the horse they both rode in on, are on notice that morally and evolutionarily they are to be terminated, with prejudice.

Everybody now bring your family down to the riverside
Look to the east to see where the fat stock hide
Behind four walls of stone the rich man sleeps
It's time we put the flame torch to their keep

You have just fired a massive volley in what may prove to be a thousand year headlong war with structures that have been refined over a period ten times that long, which have been inculcated and beaten into successive generations, incorporated into our languages and hence our brain structure, and most probably bred into our genome. These structures have been antigened into our bloodstream inoculating us against and protecting us from questions, from independent, critical thought, from disobedience, from our self.

Burn down the mission
If we're gonna stay alive
Watch the black smoke fly to heaven
See the red flame light the sky

I realize there have been skirmishes in this war since at least Lysistrata's time 2400 years ago, but the goals that were sought in those skirmishes were discrete and local things like stopping a war or voting rights acquisition and on a much smaller scale than what you and the other Elders have set forth here:

"The justification of discrimination against women and girls
on grounds of religion or tradition,
as if it were prescribed by a Higher Authority,
is unacceptable."

You have just let fly a challenge that has the potential to and a requirement of a complete restructuring and transformation of what has, sadly, come to pass for civilization on this planet. If the conditions you enumerate are to be resolved they will need to be, as they already are being, taught as wrong to our children and the children of our children unto the seventh generation, verily. The overturning of these conditions will demand the same but more of the fearless and fervent dedication and singlemindedness that established them, over millennia, in the first place.

Burn down the mission
It's our only chance to stay alive
It's our only chance of living
Take all you need to live inside

You are calling on the human race to consciously choose to evolve and the evolutionary direction you have enunciated just happens to point away from Abraham (Ibrahim) and ALL his quarreling, vindictive and dishonest progeny. You have laid another piece of wood on a fire that, hopefully, will soon flare up and consume the destructive and antagonistically backwards understanding of life incorporated into those three religions at the root and cause of the inbuilt and core component that results in this discriminatory treatment of women, children and the "other". I have the beam I've removed from my own eye ready to add to the conflagration. I've been looking forward to this for a long, long time. Maybe we can roast some peanuts.

Deep in the woods the squirrels are out today
My wife cried when they came to take me away
But what more could I do just to keep her warm
Than burn, burn, burn, burn down the mission walls

This declaration you have made also carries within it notice of termination for most economic and financial structures that, now imminently threatening to collapse taking huge swaths of dreams and lives with them, are predicated on disparate valuations of individuals and peoples. These institutions and structures have engendered and encouraged as much if not more strife and discrimination and death than the religions they have financed. This shouldn't be surprising as the largest, most corrupt and power hungry of the three oldest professions and the one which joins its twin, cassocked brother in abusing, raping and pimping their younger sisters out as prostitute, is that of moneychanger.

Now everybody now bring your family down to the riverside
Look to the east to see where the fat stock hide
Behind four walls of stone the rich man sleeps
It's time we put the flame torch to their keep.

You are a good man Jimmy Carter. Thank you for your courage. Thank You, Elton, for your words and music.

Wednesday, July 15

in order to get here,

we said goodbye to the packing inspector,

and had to go here,

like this,

past here,

picking up a bit of eau de skunk here,

Trevor relishing the freshness,

and then in the fullness of time and with the cooperation of the synchronicity sprites we happened along a park in this guy's birthplace here-

and while i may not be a strong activist, Mr. Chip (short for Chip off the old Shakti) channeled my long and unwavering loathing for St. Ronnie and his voraciously greedy and exploitative cohort and their foul and bitter legacies by symbolically doing to the memory of St Ronnie what has been done in his name to the non-have-mores for so unrelentingly, singlemindedly, simplemindedly long...

After conducting what we all agreed was a fitting and overly generous pre-centennial celebration of the dying gasps of republicanism we continued through here,

to the house, where after two days of sleeping i did another 300 miles south where Chip in his quest for that perfect full body rub looks like this

he cleans up well... so we did and met these guys at the HDBC

these guys at my folk's house

saw this

and after approximately 3500 miles of road was able to relax on the deck and see this

and this

as we contemplate the ephemerality of peach trees...


Thursday, April 16

Fun, Games and Other Time Uses

The Weekday Workend.
An observation for Tax Freedom Day®.

Now that we are working for our own benefit, would you like to have to work fewer hours with the same pay? Simple. On Wednesday, sometimes called humpday, do NO functional activity on behalf of the corporation that employs you. This functional activity is commonly refered to as 'work'.

If you can't bring yourself to do that all day long, then start simply. Do NO 'work' for the first hour. Or even make a minute stretch into two or three. (It gets easier the more you do it.) Kind of like i've observed at all the places i have ever been employed from the ones who are line managers, supervisors and others of the manager+ class. They will wander around looking over their areas of responsibility, conferring with others of their level about Lost, or the Biggest Loser or the game last night, or the game this weekend, or the new TV they bought and the teabag demonstration sponsored by FOX they watched on it and chuckling about it or... almost anything but the effect of this country's slide into oblivion on those under their purview, who may or not be homeless.

i know exactly how hard that will be to do as i have had in the past an urge to contribute to the well being of those who have chosen to employ me. The mayflowering puritan work ethic instilled in me (heavily weighted by Scottish and Germanic ancestry with some ornery Irish and a bit of the Brit) by my parents who were children during the Great Depression took hold without me even being conscious of it.

When you get more comfortable doing as you're done to, add another hour next week and within a month you will be up to lunch time. After two months you will have a full day at your disposal which, although not neccesarily the ideal place of your choosing, can be filled with activities that will enrich your own life in ways you probably can't foresee. i suppose it could get you fired too.

But, meanwhile back at the ranch... Let's play a game shall we? i propose a meme for your consideration. See how many wonderful and creative phrases you can make with the following letters - kind of a therapeutic anger management acrostic:

R, E, V, O, L, T!
(with or without the big bang! at the end)

i have a couple to get those addled (read this section, but only if you have done this worksheet, after determining the number of times desk meets head and if a contributor of a non profit producing benefit while engaged in lobbying, but only if not a professional, and subtract the line you multiplied earlier [see addendum Pub 8177 or instructions* for line 41 Form 1040]) brains, so prevalent on April 16ths, moving on a different tack...


Rage Enabled Voters: Organized Layman Theatrics
Resisting Evil! Vehemently Opposing Lies & Thievery!
Reality Enhancement: Voluntarily Obstructing Late-stage Theocracy!

Have fun. Take care of each other!

feel free to use any of the above as a blog title - iam not selfish

*if you can find it!

Tuesday, April 14

a kind of oxytocic orangutan

i just read an article found on wikileaks titled:
"Rightwing Extremism: Current Economic and Political Climate Fueling Resurgence in Radicalization and Recruitment"
that is indicated on every paragraph as either Unclassified/For Official Use Only or Unclassified/Law Enforcement Sensitive.

(google report title & get 15,900 hits)

i got more than a little confused.

This report, among other findings, says that returning vets are a potential threat and are actively being recruited to some of the rightwing extremist (ultra reactionary/conservative?) groups that are being scrutinized (as we all seem to be these days, except possibly for the financial fraudsters, their political enablers, and the ones typically comprising what has been termed by some 'The Powers That Be', which IMO should be the ones investigated and prosecuted!) by DHS, FBI and other various law enforcement groups and agencies.

The language used in the report is typical LEspeak* - presented matter of factly in non-personal terms that convey little, if any, emotive content, and that distills the rage felt and expressed,
by many citizens of today's version of these United States, as "largely rhetorical" to 'facts', numbers and trends.

This rage stems, according to this report which they call "Threats from white supremacist and violent antigovernment groups", from real estate foreclosures on peoples houses and businesses, unemployment (read massive and continuing business restructurings that result in layoffs and firings), and inability to obtain credit (which i would call non-stop reports of bailouts , just-under-wire semi-legalities, offshore tax havens and the subsequent evaporation of our investments and retirement funds and pensions that were to be our sunset years realization of the 'American Dream' promoted and sold to us by 'visionaries', pundits and presidents since way before i was born in 1952). AND by the "election of the first African American president". So far no actual "attack planning" has occurred.

It goes on for 8 pages (minus title page & contact info last page) in more detailed LEspeak* about several more issues (in which both DHS and FBI have been implicated, in the past, by their own members

After reading this report and remembering reading (and re-reading some articles) about the difference in fMRI brain measurements between Liberal/Conservative political tendancies and female/male life response tendancies i got even more confused...

My first confusion are the dates...
Created 2007-01-23 12:32:54, Modified: 2009-04-12 17:21:32.
Either this is a recycled Bush era publication finally seeing the light of day, and updated to include the pittsburgh cop-killer incident or a clever and well crafted forgery
or ???

my second confusion, and in my opinion, more perplexing to me is this:

Recently, i have gotten extremely angry and, unfortunately for my poor wife and other members of my family, vocal about this country's rapid, greed-fueled, politician-enabled descent and by increasingly fear and hate tainted divisive and destructive behavior into a place i hardly recognize any more...

Normally (at least in my 2sd bell-curved version of what i call normal) iam a very moderate, laidback type with a knowledge that each of us is doing the best we can in our daily lives and that, given opportunity, help and encouragement we will all develop to become highly intelligent, creative and compassionate beings that ALL systems of morality have espoused and portrayed as desirable since grunts (or laryngeal refinements) first turned into words.

am i a left-leaning, liberal-tendancied, conservative-acting, rightwing extremist, with a male-chromosomed, female integrated brain, a self-effacing empath (a kind of oxytocic orangutan)
or what???


*LEspeak note: over the last two years and 4 trips to NM, i cleared out my father's 20 year rented 10'x20' storage unit, going through box after box after box after... of a lifetime of law enforcement type accumulations that contained, among other items, semi-classified documents, arrest reports, notes and tests from his life as a military intelligence officer, beat cop, and nearly 30 year university professor of police science.
i can spot LEspeak with out breaking a sweat and only using one eye...

**blog against theocracy inclusion:
Censored New Scientist article:
How to spot a hidden religious agenda, 28 Feb 2009

***photo credits www.primates.com/orangutans***

Sunday, April 12

Easter 2009

In the name of the Father,

In the name of the Mother,

In the name of the Son,

May the Blessed Ones

Lead us from darkness

Into Light.

Om - shanti, shanti, shanti.

Thursday, April 9

Namaste Lily Raine

My grand daughter would have been 6 weeks old today.

Her name is Lily Raine.

I never got a chance to meet her. She died in utero from umbilical cord strangulation. She was delivered by induced labor about 36 hours after her parents learned that she had no heartbeat, on the day that had been chosen to be her birthday. I only hope her journey through the Bardo will be short and will allow that tiny portion encompassing Brahman to choose what lesson she will learn, or teach, next to happen soon. I know that which ever path that spark chooses next will be one of profound compassion and clarity. It is very difficult to bring that hope to the surface through the tears shrouding all I see. I am a coward and weak and unable to realize how insignificant my own pain and utterly immobilizing anguish is compared to what her parents are experiencing. I am shamed by my weakness. I want to blame someone, something, some god. There is nothing at which to direct my anger and I am ashamed by that fear and anger. But it isn't about me.

My son, C___ and his lovely partner H______ were so happy and proud when we saw them last September. They looked so joyous and in love and strong. C____ is 28. H______ is 24. C____ stands six foot five and H______ comes nearly to his chin. I was so pleased and proud of them both and the life that they had put together. They shared some of their plans and hopes and concerns with us, both together and separately.

C____ and I talked about how a child changes things. About how that tiny intrusion of perfection into our mundane lives brings wonder and awe and uncertainty and fear but mostly unspeakably indescribable love. How we are remade into better people by such a small wriggly bundle of newness. How we can relearn the mystery of this universe every time we see them sleeping or blinking at us through unfocused eyes bright with that still fully connected to god sparkle, not yet dimmed by all the intrigues of butterflies and puppies, the momentary agonies of bruised knees and broken arms and hearts. Of the guilt felt by us when the complete trust and boundless love given by them freely and totally is fractured when we feel they need to be trained in the rules of this world. At least as far as we understand those semi agreed upon rules. How they will forgive us our ignorance about what really matters when they reach out and wrap their sticky-fingered hands around our neck and kiss us on the cheek. How they will share their most treasured and powerful amulets of bird feathers they find stuck in the bushes, the empty, broken snail shells that fascinate and enthrall them and the delight when they give us a special rock or dried up leaf they've found.

When C____ and I emerged from his mancave, we returned to the civilized world and sat around and talked about practical items like curtains and mortgages and car seats. We chatted about what might be needed for them to feel ready for this incredible journey they were fully embarked upon. How they were starting Lamaze and prenatal yoga classes.

I don't know what my wife and H______ talked about, but I am pretty sure it had to do with mommy type stuff, which as all men, who think they know who they are or not, realize we can never fully comprehend even though they tell us and show us every moment we are together. I used to think I was a reasonably intelligent man and knew quite a bit about this world until I was made aware by the mothers of my own children that my misplaced and ignorant ideas of what was of value paled to insignificance by dirty diapers and healthy choices of foods and toys. Of how sharing is a lesson that, while difficult to impart, is closer to Truth than spelling correctly or tense agreement. By the urgent and paramount requirement that acceptance and encouragement is so much more vitally important than scribbles on a wall or a broken dish or a throw up stained tie and shirt. Of how answering “Why?” needs to be an immediate priority, towering so far above a dusty shelf or a messy room, as to need a telescope of Hubble proportions for such ephemerals to be even seen.