Have you seen…
Zeitgeist?
9/11 revisited?
The God delusion?
The Sun of God?
The Shack is twenty months old now. In that twenty months I have had the time, and in some aspects was forced, to examine myself, life, death, etc. It has not all been pleasant.
In admitting my own mistakes to myself, and reconciling to the idea you can never go back, that the first fifty years are gone, I was forced to shed old lies and accept new truths. Partially due to this process of growing up (something I had neglected to do in my first fifty years of living, and still have trouble with), I came to the realization that instead of becoming more conservative in my thought as I grow older, holding on to what I know, I am becoming more open minded. More willing to consider ideas that don't mirror my own. Instead of just calling bullshit, I'll look, read, consider before I call bullshit now.
I was more rigid in my parameters of tolerance in thought at twenty-five then I am at fifty-two, I was more ignorant at twenty-five.
Easier for me to change than others, I imagine. I was raised without religion, had no real expectations to live up to, lived day to day, hand to mouth most of my life, and believe strongly in nothing. I witnessed life in the drug culture for twenty years too, so obviously I had some mental adjustments to make. My convictions are few, but my patriotism is strong.
My family has been in this country since the late 1600's. I spent six years in the Army. So, we’ve established that the USA is my country, and I am a charter member patriot.
In the last eight years this country has been hijacked for the private interests of the ultra rich. It is a great country and my home. Unfortunately, it’s being driven not by the will of the people, but by the greed of a few. Elitists who think, despite what the masses want, that they know best. And what is best usually includes a large profit for them. That is not Democracy, but a facade of oligarchy.
Watch 9/11 re-visited.
Watch Zeitgeist.
I'm convinced The US government are the terrorists.
Take the war in Iraq. The American people were willing to stop Saddam Hussein from having WMD. But occupation? Here it is years later and our leaders are giving us every reason in the world to continue their policies, i.e.: Al Qaeda in Iraq, Iraqi Independence, The War on Terror… it's like a Star Trek series where in the Universe’s infinity the dangers are never ending.
Now that Iraq has it's new puppet Government, the problem is now in Afghanistan, coincidently along the pipeline route. And the War on Terror continues. Except, IT'S ALL BULLSHIT.
We are the terrorists.
We have taken Russia's place in Afghanistan, the same place we denounced them for taking from 1979-1989. The Taliban are the same as they were then, except now they're the bad guys fighting the good foreign invader? I'll say it again, we don't need permanent fortresses along that pipeline to search and destroy Al Qaeda (The news 08DEC07).
Watch Zeitgeist, America is being fed a line. The American Army is fighting so Profits can be made on a pipeline to supply INDIA. I don't give a fuck about Indian Markets. Do you?
And the elitists don't give a rat’s ass about a country, or people, or the average man. Money lives where life is best, so money doesn't care if a few hundred thousand people die, if countries are ravaged, if the poor starve, etc. Money won't be in the neighbourhood, just profits. The fact that it is a country other than America doesn't make it right (The Aliens 12JUL08). Even if they are American companies, or the American Army, exploitation is exploitation and imperialism is imperialism.
Enter my neighbor, a local schoolteacher and resident of Southern Oregon since the 70's. An intellectual. I think he can't resist opening minds and eyes, but he has successfully changed my outlook on some things by simply saying, “Hey, watch this.”
Those four titles above are great food for thought. Especially Zeitgeist and 9/11 Revisited. You can Google all four.... Zeitgeist has no picture the first two minutes, just words from the Dahli monk.
Now, most American’s live comfortably, myself included, but what am I willing to allow my country to do in order to make this the best place in the world to live? At the very least I want to know the truth.
I honestly cannot look at people who think those planes brought the WTC down without feelings of disgust for their ignorance.
I always felt these religious fanatics (Jihadists, Christian warriors etc) were brainwashed fools, but after Zeitgeist and the God Delusion I realize that I was a fool too. I am ashamed of my own ignorance and lack of education (part of the remorse for having screwed around for twenty years in the drug culture).
People here in the State of Jefferson question everything. Oregon is the most atheist state in the union. Fewest Catholics and Baptists. Independent Voters. This is Ron Paul country (probably due to his platform to repeal the income tax (there is a lot of non-taxable income in this area)). It is fertile soil for alternative lifestyles and ways of thinking, good and bad. Who knows what my mental makeup will be after a few more months?
Wednesday, July 30, 2008
Sunday, July 20, 2008
Black in America
I've been watching ‘Black in America’ and now I know... that being a misplaced Smokey mountain Hillbilly, raised in California without a father in the home, almost makes me Black. I like to grab my crotch and tell people I'm part black, but that's a joke of course… I'm part Donkey.
Of course I'm really watching ‘Black in America’ because, ‘How ya' going to know?’
Nobody looks at me like I'm black. They look at me like I'm ugly. All you handsome, pretty people might not know what I'm talking about, but ya' know… when you pull up next to that hot girl with her hair washed and her shiny lipstick on and even if she ain't good looking, she got her hair washed and her shiny lipstick on, so she thinks she is.... and anyway, inevitably I'll pull up and I'll be looking to see who is in the car next to me.... and whoosh, that girl will damn near break her neck twisting it around to look the other way. I want to jump out and yell, ‘Hey! I wasn't even looking' for a girl with her hair washed’.
But anyway, they always turn their head. Which is like looking at you like you’re ugly. If they don't turn their head, they ain't pretty enough for me. Good thing too. Ya' know, the male ego can make anything reality.
Reminds me of the joke:
I go out. I try to meet women. The first line is always different ‘Hi, how are you. You look nice.” Ya' know, something like that. But the second line is always the same, “Hey Bitch! I’m talking to you!”
People look at me like I'm poor too, sometimes. That just means I'm fooling the one's not paying attention the other part of the time. And of course, in the dice game of what really counts, and blessings you can't sell, I am as rich as my ignorance allows me to be. Which takes me back to being looked at like you're poor...ya' know, if you wear blue plaid shorts and the blue doesn't match the blue in the flowered Hawaiian shirt you're wearing, and your green safarii hat doesn't match your grey cross training shoes, people look at you like your poor. Like you ain't got a clue. Like you’re too poor to know about white teeth and vaginal odor, and wouldn't know how to appreciate a girl with her hair washed and her shiny lipstick on. Too poor my ass, I'd pay to appreciate it.
I get other looks sometimes. The ‘whoa, you’re too loud’ look is common. I'd be exhausted if I concentrated on whispering all the time.
I get the ‘oh, he’s bald’ look a lot too. Ya' know when you're meeting that hot girl for the first time, and she's got her hair washed and her shiny lipstick on and you smile at her, and she's watching your every move. You can feel her radar on you, and then... you take your hat off.... it’s like the power went off. Your blip disappeared. It's like your face became twice as long and everything else became half its appropriate size.
Sometimes, I get that perplexed look, too. Ya’ know, like, I was talking to this attractive woman at this party that my friend was invited to and, I knew she was looking for a man because she was there… and her hair was washed and she had that shiny lipstick on. And I hadn't had a shower for three days so I was manly. Also I hadn't taken my hat off... all that said I figured that I was in the running. So I just told her, “I'll give ya' a try-out.” She said, “huh?” I said, “Well honey, I can't guarantee you'll make the team, but I'll give ya' a try-out.” She looked confused walking away.
Then you meet a woman who, for whatever dysfunctional reasons of her own, likes you, falls in love with you. And you don't know how to act.... back to being ‘Black in America.’ Lack of a good ‘male role model’ in any young man's life is a serious problem, regardless of his race.
It is an inherited problem too. My sons inherited a father who didn't know how to act sometimes. I just knew how I wanted them to act. What I knew from experience, Tom Sawyer and the Hobbit. Make sense?
And I misspelled safari above because Hawaii has two eyes and so do fish. I didn't say this was going to be easy. You figure it out because I'm working on a new campaign to bring bald, ugly, crude, old men back into mainstream American life where we can be treated handsomely. See, I'm going to call it ‘Bald in America’ and I want Soledad O'Brien to do the interview because I think I could be comfortable with her.... she seems so understanding, and I'm always getting a look...
Of course I'm really watching ‘Black in America’ because, ‘How ya' going to know?’
Nobody looks at me like I'm black. They look at me like I'm ugly. All you handsome, pretty people might not know what I'm talking about, but ya' know… when you pull up next to that hot girl with her hair washed and her shiny lipstick on and even if she ain't good looking, she got her hair washed and her shiny lipstick on, so she thinks she is.... and anyway, inevitably I'll pull up and I'll be looking to see who is in the car next to me.... and whoosh, that girl will damn near break her neck twisting it around to look the other way. I want to jump out and yell, ‘Hey! I wasn't even looking' for a girl with her hair washed’.
But anyway, they always turn their head. Which is like looking at you like you’re ugly. If they don't turn their head, they ain't pretty enough for me. Good thing too. Ya' know, the male ego can make anything reality.
Reminds me of the joke:
I go out. I try to meet women. The first line is always different ‘Hi, how are you. You look nice.” Ya' know, something like that. But the second line is always the same, “Hey Bitch! I’m talking to you!”
People look at me like I'm poor too, sometimes. That just means I'm fooling the one's not paying attention the other part of the time. And of course, in the dice game of what really counts, and blessings you can't sell, I am as rich as my ignorance allows me to be. Which takes me back to being looked at like you're poor...ya' know, if you wear blue plaid shorts and the blue doesn't match the blue in the flowered Hawaiian shirt you're wearing, and your green safarii hat doesn't match your grey cross training shoes, people look at you like your poor. Like you ain't got a clue. Like you’re too poor to know about white teeth and vaginal odor, and wouldn't know how to appreciate a girl with her hair washed and her shiny lipstick on. Too poor my ass, I'd pay to appreciate it.
I get other looks sometimes. The ‘whoa, you’re too loud’ look is common. I'd be exhausted if I concentrated on whispering all the time.
I get the ‘oh, he’s bald’ look a lot too. Ya' know when you're meeting that hot girl for the first time, and she's got her hair washed and her shiny lipstick on and you smile at her, and she's watching your every move. You can feel her radar on you, and then... you take your hat off.... it’s like the power went off. Your blip disappeared. It's like your face became twice as long and everything else became half its appropriate size.
Sometimes, I get that perplexed look, too. Ya’ know, like, I was talking to this attractive woman at this party that my friend was invited to and, I knew she was looking for a man because she was there… and her hair was washed and she had that shiny lipstick on. And I hadn't had a shower for three days so I was manly. Also I hadn't taken my hat off... all that said I figured that I was in the running. So I just told her, “I'll give ya' a try-out.” She said, “huh?” I said, “Well honey, I can't guarantee you'll make the team, but I'll give ya' a try-out.” She looked confused walking away.
Then you meet a woman who, for whatever dysfunctional reasons of her own, likes you, falls in love with you. And you don't know how to act.... back to being ‘Black in America.’ Lack of a good ‘male role model’ in any young man's life is a serious problem, regardless of his race.
It is an inherited problem too. My sons inherited a father who didn't know how to act sometimes. I just knew how I wanted them to act. What I knew from experience, Tom Sawyer and the Hobbit. Make sense?
And I misspelled safari above because Hawaii has two eyes and so do fish. I didn't say this was going to be easy. You figure it out because I'm working on a new campaign to bring bald, ugly, crude, old men back into mainstream American life where we can be treated handsomely. See, I'm going to call it ‘Bald in America’ and I want Soledad O'Brien to do the interview because I think I could be comfortable with her.... she seems so understanding, and I'm always getting a look...
Friday, July 18, 2008
On Reverend Jesse Jackson
The Reverend Jesse Jackson should have his nappy ass spanked by Don Imus.. I'll be the first to say it, "Where the hell is Al Sharpton now?" Making excuses for his Microphone sucking buddy. Bless his Hypocritical ass. Can someone pick up the limousine bill too? After thirty years of civil rights leaders that never saw a microphone they didn't like, it's nice to see a microphone the Reverend didn't like. After watching the way Don Imus was tried and condemned by these 'Leaders', only equal treatment of the Reverend Jesse would be just. I mean, who has a greater responsibility to the community; a talk show host, OR a civil rights and spiritual leader, and all the other credentials the reverend claims? And the real tragedy is the Reverends comment before using the word 'NIGGER'. And I quote, "He's trying to cut our balls off." That comment was in response to Senator Obama addressing the issue of black men taking responsibility for their offspring, or lack thereof; possibility indicative of the true nature of the Reverends true attitude toward women, children and responsibility? Already an admitted adulterer, the Reverend's true form is no surprise. The surprise is that the ANY Community (not just the Black Community) still allows him to claim to be one of their leaders.
The Reverend Jackson, having revealed his moral base, should now go find a hole to hide his despicable hypocritical ass. And I denounce him not for his language, or his hypocrisy, but what it reveals: The Reverend is an insincere microphone sucking phony. A man who would use others for his Profit . Has the Reverend ever had a job? I hope Imus has the Reverend on for a discussion on 'hypocrisy in the Ministry'; spiritual leaders exploiting their congregations, and the community. And my point?
Reverend Wright, Reverend Jackson ....how many other leaders will the Senator be forced to distance from himself?
The Reverend Jackson, having revealed his moral base, should now go find a hole to hide his despicable hypocritical ass. And I denounce him not for his language, or his hypocrisy, but what it reveals: The Reverend is an insincere microphone sucking phony. A man who would use others for his Profit . Has the Reverend ever had a job? I hope Imus has the Reverend on for a discussion on 'hypocrisy in the Ministry'; spiritual leaders exploiting their congregations, and the community. And my point?
Reverend Wright, Reverend Jackson ....how many other leaders will the Senator be forced to distance from himself?
Saturday, July 12, 2008
The Aliens
The Aliens came to earth last night and spoke with me and they told me their plan.
They said, "We need the water".
I said, "What?"
They said, "The water, we need it, the water on the earth... It's ours, ya' know, and we need it back."
I said, "Yours?"
"Oh yeah," the alien said, "it's ours from eons ago. A long, long time ago the science department wanted to see what would happen if we put out the fire on the surface of a trashball, and just let it burn down inside til it was coal. Somebody thought it would collapse and disappear... make it easier to navigate space... so we dragged a huge ice cube here and slammed it into this trashball after successfully setting it on fire. It worked; the surface of the trashball was extinguished and the core was burning as planned but the planet was developing some form of bacteria that had evolved to the point that it was sending objects into space and the Supreme Board couldn't have that, so they ordered the return of the water to our world, and to start the experiment again closer to home where we can keep a closer eye on things... and spray."
"But what about Earth?"
"The trashball? Normal procedure; it will be dragged slowly into the big incinerator at the center, a few balls in front of it. Initially, they were going to slap the place with a comet, like the first time they tried to stop a fungus, but the scientists said without the water the growth would stop... so they're not going to send a rock."
"But there's life here," I said.
"Tell that to the guys that want the water," the alien said. "I hear OILPS ain't got water for their pools... you know how OILPS are! Without water for their pools they got nothing fo sit beside and drink. They got no place to tan, ya know... they need that water. Without it the OILPSROCK wouldn't be the haven it is."
"But do they need it to survive?" I asked.
"Oh, hell no," the alien said. "They just like the way it looks, but they have eminent domain over this trashball. When the place goes up in steam don't worry, we're just heating the it up so we can suck off the moisture."
They said, "We need the water".
I said, "What?"
They said, "The water, we need it, the water on the earth... It's ours, ya' know, and we need it back."
I said, "Yours?"
"Oh yeah," the alien said, "it's ours from eons ago. A long, long time ago the science department wanted to see what would happen if we put out the fire on the surface of a trashball, and just let it burn down inside til it was coal. Somebody thought it would collapse and disappear... make it easier to navigate space... so we dragged a huge ice cube here and slammed it into this trashball after successfully setting it on fire. It worked; the surface of the trashball was extinguished and the core was burning as planned but the planet was developing some form of bacteria that had evolved to the point that it was sending objects into space and the Supreme Board couldn't have that, so they ordered the return of the water to our world, and to start the experiment again closer to home where we can keep a closer eye on things... and spray."
"But what about Earth?"
"The trashball? Normal procedure; it will be dragged slowly into the big incinerator at the center, a few balls in front of it. Initially, they were going to slap the place with a comet, like the first time they tried to stop a fungus, but the scientists said without the water the growth would stop... so they're not going to send a rock."
"But there's life here," I said.
"Tell that to the guys that want the water," the alien said. "I hear OILPS ain't got water for their pools... you know how OILPS are! Without water for their pools they got nothing fo sit beside and drink. They got no place to tan, ya know... they need that water. Without it the OILPSROCK wouldn't be the haven it is."
"But do they need it to survive?" I asked.
"Oh, hell no," the alien said. "They just like the way it looks, but they have eminent domain over this trashball. When the place goes up in steam don't worry, we're just heating the it up so we can suck off the moisture."
Monday, July 7, 2008
The Takilma Tree House Party
I got up on the 5 July and my face hurt from smiling so much the night before. Next year you should come to the Treehouse Independence day Party here in Takilma, State of Jefferson, on the south base of Hope Mountain, opposite the north base of my home.
It all started innocent enough on the 3 July. Jeff asked me, "What ya doin' on the Fourth?”
I started to give him a brief itinerary for my weekend when he interrupted me and said, "You should go out to the treehouses in Takilma." Jeff knows I live opposite the infamous hippie settlement of the seventies.
"The treehouses?"
"Oh yeah, Man, you'll dig it, the whole community goes out there. There's live music, fireworks, food… it's a party, man. You should go." Jeff isn't exactly a party animal; a health nut with two teenage sons and a pre-teenage daughter, owner of the prominent Chevron station for the last twenty five years, he's a pillar of the community, so I naturally figured the ‘treehouse party’ would be a respectable family affair, for the most part.
I ran into another buddy of mine, Dave, that afternoon too. Dave carves bears and wizards and such, from cedar logs with a chain saw. He lives in a camp trailer on part of his sister's lot at the four corners (where my road and Takilma Road intersect). Toothless, wild and rambling, Dave’s a party animal. As I passed his place on the way home he hailed me over and asked me, "Hey, whatta you doin' on the Fourth?” Before I could answer he continued, "You should go to the treehouses. Man, you'll have a good time!
“Everybody will be there, man, you gotta go."
My phone rang on the morning of the Fourth. It was Devon, another buddy of mine. He owns a caravan park in Cave Junction. Devon is a businessman and a party animal. He loves women, being too loud, having too much fun, and drinking too much. At six foot seven and two hundred and seventy pounds, he’s a giant of a man. His best friend Jessie is two inches shorter and twenty pounds heavier.
So, Devon calls me on the morning of the Fourth and said, "We're going to the Treehouses for a party tonight, we'll be by to get you at six".
I said, " Have you been there before?"
Devon replied, " No, but everybody says it's a party, so you should go too."
Devon's only been in town about six months longer than I have and at thirty years old and single he's always on the hunt for love and a thrill. Twenty years older than he and Jessie, I didn't have their enthusiasm for a party, but after the third 'you should go’ I was beginning to feel like the community was waiting to meet me and I should go. Especially intriguing was the vast difference in the people who recommended my going.
Takilma has a reputation for being an ex-hippie haven/refuge, pot farming community on the Oregon/California border where the only way into the mountains and the California part of the valley, is through Oregon. Local law enforcement avoids the place. One road in, one road out. No radio, no cell service, no strangers. If there is a ‘State of Jefferson’, Takilma and the southern side of the mountain is the rebel base. The helicopter spends a lot more time over there...
The boys arrived about an hour late. Prelude to the party, and we were on the way. We were Happy.
The treehouses are just a few miles in on Takilma road. You can google 'Out 'n About', or 'Takilma Treehouses', and take a virtual tour.
Before the sun went down ‘the party” was a picnic, barbecue, and family affair. A cross between Golden Gate Park circa 1969, and The Renaissance fair at Black Oak Forest in Novato. Games, food, vendors, treehouses, and ropewalks. Ale, beer. wine, women and song. Mushroom tea... pungent smells in the air. Open laughter and pipe sharing. There was a country band and a few dancers. At least a couple of thousand people. It was Woodstock 2008 on a smaller scale. Everybody was friendly and COOL. The Party was an excellent representation of the community. I felt good to be part of the microcosm.
While were standing around drinking, eating and admiring other people's wives and girlfriends, a young lady suddenly dropped to the ground not ten feet away and started flopping like a fish on dry ground. Everybody was shocked. Her friends were frozen. She was about twenty-five and everyone just stood and watched as she wriggled in the brown dirt.
Moments into the drama, as the girl's color started to change I moved over to her. Holding her head still, I could she was biting her tongue. It was already bleeding. I yelled for a stick to put between her teeth. I forced enough of my thumbs between her teeth to release her tongue, and at that moment a young man with dreadlocks shoved an index finger size stick between her teeth.
I calmly told her to relax, she'd be okay. She was incoherent. I still kept repeating, "You'll be ok, just relax, you'll be ok."
Suddenly, her eyes met mine and she was back. I could see she was confused and scared. I told her, "You're gonna be fine." A security person arrived. They had called an ambulance for the girl and asked everyone to back up and for the young lady to remain still. I walked back over to the boys.
Scott handed me a beer. "You saved her life, man."
"Yeaaahhhhhhhh, kinda changed the mood for a minute though, didn't it?'"
I looked in the ice chest for the rest of the mushroom tea. Motherf*****s drank it while I was being a hero! Oh well... Devon had bought two red cups of 'tea’ and him, Jessie and Scott had split one. Then Devon handed me the second for myself. I decided I'd watch the boys for a while and stick to ale until I could see how they fared. I was about half way through the juice when the girl had started to flop. I never did find out what went wrong.
As the sun set the fireworks started. There was a water truck and the display was done over a large meadow. No fire danger here I guess. The party was lit up for about an hour. I was impressed. While the fireworks display went on, the bands changed. As the display ended the bass player started to rumble. A young man with dreadlocks started a rhythmic chant; suddenly the singer yelled, “Are you listening Takilma?" The saxophonist let loose with a long drawn out note, and the party started moving toward the stage. There were a lot of those red cups around. The reggae was top notch.
During the second song the saxophonist started throwing finger size joints out into the crowd. It got smoky. The crowd found some rhythm and got their hands above their heads. The band was hot. The singer yelled something about the State of Jefferson tonight. The crowd got cooler, younger, and happier. The whole place was moving with the groove. I couldn't stop smiling. It was a Freedom thing. The band played for three hours without a break. They did it again the next night, too. It was all good. Next year...............
Are you one of us, or one of them?
It all started innocent enough on the 3 July. Jeff asked me, "What ya doin' on the Fourth?”
I started to give him a brief itinerary for my weekend when he interrupted me and said, "You should go out to the treehouses in Takilma." Jeff knows I live opposite the infamous hippie settlement of the seventies.
"The treehouses?"
"Oh yeah, Man, you'll dig it, the whole community goes out there. There's live music, fireworks, food… it's a party, man. You should go." Jeff isn't exactly a party animal; a health nut with two teenage sons and a pre-teenage daughter, owner of the prominent Chevron station for the last twenty five years, he's a pillar of the community, so I naturally figured the ‘treehouse party’ would be a respectable family affair, for the most part.
I ran into another buddy of mine, Dave, that afternoon too. Dave carves bears and wizards and such, from cedar logs with a chain saw. He lives in a camp trailer on part of his sister's lot at the four corners (where my road and Takilma Road intersect). Toothless, wild and rambling, Dave’s a party animal. As I passed his place on the way home he hailed me over and asked me, "Hey, whatta you doin' on the Fourth?” Before I could answer he continued, "You should go to the treehouses. Man, you'll have a good time!
“Everybody will be there, man, you gotta go."
My phone rang on the morning of the Fourth. It was Devon, another buddy of mine. He owns a caravan park in Cave Junction. Devon is a businessman and a party animal. He loves women, being too loud, having too much fun, and drinking too much. At six foot seven and two hundred and seventy pounds, he’s a giant of a man. His best friend Jessie is two inches shorter and twenty pounds heavier.
So, Devon calls me on the morning of the Fourth and said, "We're going to the Treehouses for a party tonight, we'll be by to get you at six".
I said, " Have you been there before?"
Devon replied, " No, but everybody says it's a party, so you should go too."
Devon's only been in town about six months longer than I have and at thirty years old and single he's always on the hunt for love and a thrill. Twenty years older than he and Jessie, I didn't have their enthusiasm for a party, but after the third 'you should go’ I was beginning to feel like the community was waiting to meet me and I should go. Especially intriguing was the vast difference in the people who recommended my going.
Takilma has a reputation for being an ex-hippie haven/refuge, pot farming community on the Oregon/California border where the only way into the mountains and the California part of the valley, is through Oregon. Local law enforcement avoids the place. One road in, one road out. No radio, no cell service, no strangers. If there is a ‘State of Jefferson’, Takilma and the southern side of the mountain is the rebel base. The helicopter spends a lot more time over there...
The boys arrived about an hour late. Prelude to the party, and we were on the way. We were Happy.
The treehouses are just a few miles in on Takilma road. You can google 'Out 'n About', or 'Takilma Treehouses', and take a virtual tour.
Before the sun went down ‘the party” was a picnic, barbecue, and family affair. A cross between Golden Gate Park circa 1969, and The Renaissance fair at Black Oak Forest in Novato. Games, food, vendors, treehouses, and ropewalks. Ale, beer. wine, women and song. Mushroom tea... pungent smells in the air. Open laughter and pipe sharing. There was a country band and a few dancers. At least a couple of thousand people. It was Woodstock 2008 on a smaller scale. Everybody was friendly and COOL. The Party was an excellent representation of the community. I felt good to be part of the microcosm.
While were standing around drinking, eating and admiring other people's wives and girlfriends, a young lady suddenly dropped to the ground not ten feet away and started flopping like a fish on dry ground. Everybody was shocked. Her friends were frozen. She was about twenty-five and everyone just stood and watched as she wriggled in the brown dirt.
Moments into the drama, as the girl's color started to change I moved over to her. Holding her head still, I could she was biting her tongue. It was already bleeding. I yelled for a stick to put between her teeth. I forced enough of my thumbs between her teeth to release her tongue, and at that moment a young man with dreadlocks shoved an index finger size stick between her teeth.
I calmly told her to relax, she'd be okay. She was incoherent. I still kept repeating, "You'll be ok, just relax, you'll be ok."
Suddenly, her eyes met mine and she was back. I could see she was confused and scared. I told her, "You're gonna be fine." A security person arrived. They had called an ambulance for the girl and asked everyone to back up and for the young lady to remain still. I walked back over to the boys.
Scott handed me a beer. "You saved her life, man."
"Yeaaahhhhhhhh, kinda changed the mood for a minute though, didn't it?'"
I looked in the ice chest for the rest of the mushroom tea. Motherf*****s drank it while I was being a hero! Oh well... Devon had bought two red cups of 'tea’ and him, Jessie and Scott had split one. Then Devon handed me the second for myself. I decided I'd watch the boys for a while and stick to ale until I could see how they fared. I was about half way through the juice when the girl had started to flop. I never did find out what went wrong.
As the sun set the fireworks started. There was a water truck and the display was done over a large meadow. No fire danger here I guess. The party was lit up for about an hour. I was impressed. While the fireworks display went on, the bands changed. As the display ended the bass player started to rumble. A young man with dreadlocks started a rhythmic chant; suddenly the singer yelled, “Are you listening Takilma?" The saxophonist let loose with a long drawn out note, and the party started moving toward the stage. There were a lot of those red cups around. The reggae was top notch.
During the second song the saxophonist started throwing finger size joints out into the crowd. It got smoky. The crowd found some rhythm and got their hands above their heads. The band was hot. The singer yelled something about the State of Jefferson tonight. The crowd got cooler, younger, and happier. The whole place was moving with the groove. I couldn't stop smiling. It was a Freedom thing. The band played for three hours without a break. They did it again the next night, too. It was all good. Next year...............
Are you one of us, or one of them?
Wednesday, July 2, 2008
Starbucks are Closing
What up?
More bad news on the American economic front today. The place is falling apart. 35 years too late, there is no answer now, and the infuriating part is these were the same problems that faced the country in the Seventies. Only, now China will use any oil that we don't and, in the world of supply and demand, we have a lot less control.
It's like reducing fossil fuel emission: it doesn't matter what America does now because those developing countries thirsty for oil, industrialization, and modernization are not going to save the world at the expense of their own economies. America didn't and won't now.
Hell, America is practicing politics of imperialism and making wars over future supplies. Another reason the economy is falling apart. And here's what I'll look for in the future; can we change and will the 1% and OIL let us?
Will the American people allow Big Oil to dictate our Bankruptcy? In effect, milking the country dry by influencing policy to keep us dependant on fossil fuels till the atmosphere is ruined and we are slaves to our debt? Well, what the hell do the American people think has been done since the Carter Administration? And worse, the Bush Administration has lied to us, robbed us, and Shoved Big Oil Policy down our throat. When the cry for President Bush to be tried for treason and war crimes is raised, I’ll give a hearty “aye!”
Oh well, as I stated in February about Starbucks (Coffee Wars, Property Prices, and Nothing Left to Lose 26Feb08), that's the first factor I want to consider. Not that Starbucks and Dunkin-Donuts will determine our national economy and save the housing market, but they are great indicators of the times. See, I don't think that improving a latte or customer service, is going to save Starbucks. As times get harder it is my bet that the extravagance of $3.50 cups of coffee will be one of the first luxuries to give way to reality. Look for coffee shops, cafe mochas, and cappuccinos to disappear quicker than equity in a Las Vegas home (this might be a good time to invest in a personal home Mr. Coffee machine).
Starbucks announced they're closing 600 stores today.
My point: The world is changing, the common American is not as rich and, worse yet, has most likely already lost the wealth they had. The boom is over and the Piper has his hand out. Coffees are out, but look for an increase in Liquor consumption. Times are getting harder and unnecessary expenditures will be first to cease. Closing coffee shops are indicative of this. As the economy goes, Starbucks goes.
Six months ago things were a lot better in America. The stock market has lost 2.1 trillion dollars in the first six months of 2008. A barrel of crude is up about 40% since the beginning of the year, the dollar has lost about a third of its value and if you could afford to go out for coffee (obviously I can't) there's at least 600 fewer places to go.
Hope the world finds all of you more affluent than I, at least.
More bad news on the American economic front today. The place is falling apart. 35 years too late, there is no answer now, and the infuriating part is these were the same problems that faced the country in the Seventies. Only, now China will use any oil that we don't and, in the world of supply and demand, we have a lot less control.
It's like reducing fossil fuel emission: it doesn't matter what America does now because those developing countries thirsty for oil, industrialization, and modernization are not going to save the world at the expense of their own economies. America didn't and won't now.
Hell, America is practicing politics of imperialism and making wars over future supplies. Another reason the economy is falling apart. And here's what I'll look for in the future; can we change and will the 1% and OIL let us?
Will the American people allow Big Oil to dictate our Bankruptcy? In effect, milking the country dry by influencing policy to keep us dependant on fossil fuels till the atmosphere is ruined and we are slaves to our debt? Well, what the hell do the American people think has been done since the Carter Administration? And worse, the Bush Administration has lied to us, robbed us, and Shoved Big Oil Policy down our throat. When the cry for President Bush to be tried for treason and war crimes is raised, I’ll give a hearty “aye!”
Oh well, as I stated in February about Starbucks (Coffee Wars, Property Prices, and Nothing Left to Lose 26Feb08), that's the first factor I want to consider. Not that Starbucks and Dunkin-Donuts will determine our national economy and save the housing market, but they are great indicators of the times. See, I don't think that improving a latte or customer service, is going to save Starbucks. As times get harder it is my bet that the extravagance of $3.50 cups of coffee will be one of the first luxuries to give way to reality. Look for coffee shops, cafe mochas, and cappuccinos to disappear quicker than equity in a Las Vegas home (this might be a good time to invest in a personal home Mr. Coffee machine).
Starbucks announced they're closing 600 stores today.
My point: The world is changing, the common American is not as rich and, worse yet, has most likely already lost the wealth they had. The boom is over and the Piper has his hand out. Coffees are out, but look for an increase in Liquor consumption. Times are getting harder and unnecessary expenditures will be first to cease. Closing coffee shops are indicative of this. As the economy goes, Starbucks goes.
Six months ago things were a lot better in America. The stock market has lost 2.1 trillion dollars in the first six months of 2008. A barrel of crude is up about 40% since the beginning of the year, the dollar has lost about a third of its value and if you could afford to go out for coffee (obviously I can't) there's at least 600 fewer places to go.
Hope the world finds all of you more affluent than I, at least.
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