Cash for Clunkers

I wanted to get in on the Cash for clunker program but my Jeep only has 255,000 miles on it I hate to give it up prematurely. It has, for the money I paid for it ( $1750.00), been the best vehicle I have ever owned. It's a runner,....but 4500 dollars credit is 2 and a half times what I paid for it. Almost a deal I can't refuse. In case you're a European, or a citizen from someplace other than the USA, the cash for clunker program was a billion dollar give-away by the federal government to stimulate the auto industry. Consumers were given between 3,500 and 4,500 dollars credit on new cars for trading in their clunkers. Details are irrelevant at this point because the money only lasted one week. In one week 250,000 cars sold, the money was exhausted , and the car dealers are crying they need more "clunker cash". I say, "Let the federal government buy everybody a new car". Why not? The federal give-away has included banks , Insurance companies, the auto industry, the unemployed, the hungry, disaster victims, foreign governments, foreign disaster victims, foreign intelligence agencies, foreign dictators, pig shit research, screwing habits of rabbitts, and a myriad of other handouts that you can finish listing at your own convenience. Save 'em all. The point is: As long as the government is giving the country away today, and asking others to pay for it later, the average man ought to get a bigger cut . If 1 billion paid 25% of the cost of 250,000 cars, then 4 billion would buy 250,000 cars. 40 billion would buy 2,500,000 new cars. Thats a new car for 2 1\2 million Americans. 800 billion would buy 50,000,000 new cars. New jeeps for everybody. Bradman says, " Americans would have preferred a new Jeep to bailing out AIG." New jeep, or not, American patience is running short with Obama's bullshit. The new liars are still paying bonuses with taxpayers dollars to banking executives that robbed the country blind. Our new liars haven't brought anybody to justice for the biggest robbery in history. The new liars are the same as the old liars, they've just shuffled the chairs. The New Liar covers the old thieve's tracks with the same repetitious statement. "lets look forward not back". Obama Bullshit. How do you learn from your mistakes if you don't examine them? What deterrant is there to future thieves when today's robbers go unpunished with no fear of being investigated.? Absolute Horseshit. How many Bernie's made off with the cash while Obama covered their tracks? It is the same with the crimes of the Bush administration. With 9\11. With Cheney and the CIA. Let's look forward,........to the next lie and crime! It is maddening watching today's leaders trying to decieve us. It is infuriating watching these puppets tell us one thing and do exactly what they want contrary to their words. When the next act of terrorism occurs it will be the American people's own fault that the perpetrators believe they can succeed. What we can get away with if nobody investigates. How blind are we going to be? JUST LOOK FORWARD !. and it's working. The bliss. I want to scream obscenities in my frustration with the blindness. Why are we still in Afghanistan? What is our objective? Who the hell are we chasing now? The time has come for mass demonstrations, for righteous indignation, for a revolution of common sense. My great x15 grandfather, Thomas Pate, American circa 1699., would not have stood for the monster the country now supports, Why shouild the American people 300 years later give up their common sense? Bring the troops home now, Stop the Bullshit, The only difference between Viet Nam and our present endeavors in imperialism is that the communists are now Taliban, and corporate America seems to have a stronger grip on the government. When your Common Sense is offended on a daily basis by your Government it is time for revolution. Let people know you aren't happy and Obama's lies are no more convincing then Bush's. Bring the troops home now. Love your country , trust your senses, Let People, everybody you're acquainted with , know; We are tired of the lies and we want action NOW.

The Caterpillar

A hummingbird flew into the Octoberfest room today and couldn't find it's way out. The room, now three sided with a roof and floor, and the long window opposite the one open wall, gives the impression to the butterflies and hummingbirds they can fly right throught it. When they hit the window all is confusion. They will climb the window over and over never realizing they only need turn and fly backwards a little to escape. This morning I had to rescue the exhausted bird by catching it on a small board on its way down the glass and carrying it to the other side of the room to freedom. I consider this to be a good Omen, Befriending the Hummingbird.

Indian Mythology:

To many of the Pueblo the hummingbird is a tobacco bird. In one myth
Hummingbird gets smoke from Caterpillar, the guardian of the tobacco plant.
Hummingbird brings smoke to the shamans so they can purify the earth.

Cool huh? Catching the hummingbird was like christening the room. Never underestimate the Caterpillar or a bald man. Bradman

Hot in the Pacific Northwest

Global warming? The people in the Northeast USA might argue that they haven't seen Summer this year, but it has been, and continues to be, HOT in the west. Last week I went south on I-5 and found it necessary to travel after dark; it is too hot at 100 plus degrees to travel on the motorcycle during the day. The air is like a body size hair-blower, 105 degress at 80 miles per hour. Add the heat of the sun reflected off the asphalt, or worse, the white concrete of the road, and the heat off the engine, and you have all the ingredients for broiled Brad. In the 350 miles between Grants Pass and Sactown you can lose a hat size under your helmet.
Normally the Pacific Northwest doesn't suffer these 100 plus degree temperatures. I am three miles from the California border so Bradland endures some heat every year but people in Portland and Seattle are usually a lot cooler. I have decided to add an air conditioner to the new room. It's about time I suffered a little comfort while others are miserable. As a matter of fact I've been considering a central heat and air unit for the Octoberfest room. Right after I get the toilet hooked to the septic tank and have a place to shit that flushes. You prissy mothers.
Constuction continues. The exterior is complete on one side, half done on the other, unstarted on the third; right on schedule. I work on the place before noon and after five. As the sun chases the shade around the building I move from place to place until it's so hot there is no place to work without melting. Then it's time to eat and take a nap. Just kidding. Nobody can sleep in this heat. At least not without climate control.
I was in Grants Pass earlier and the thermometer read 107 at the bank.103 at another. The bank in Cave Junction read 99 at 7:30 this evening. Every swimming hole on the 28 mile drive was packed with people trying to beat the heat . I think it's time to retrieve the kayak from the valley and become a river rat again. Anyway there's the weather report from this side of the world.

Busy in the Summer

I'd like to pass off my lack of communication with the outside world recently as being a result of having a life and being to busy to sit down and write; The truth is ......( Whenever the "truth" is proclaimed one has to be very careful, especially if they are the proclaimee. The truth changes with new knowledge all the time. When it comes to truths about oneself , we often can't see the forest for the trees, and are myopic to our personal shortcomings.) ........I've been depressed. Well, kinda.......
Every time I think this property is going to actually SELL, and the next adventure is about to begin, the deal dies and so does the excitement of a new road. My Aunt says I don't seem unhappy on the old road. The truth is.... ( there it is again) the old road gets better every day and in todays economic climate that's nothing to complain about.
Mostly I get impatient; I get tired of inching ahead, I want to leap forward. I don't like waiting for the next check and the materials it will buy to continue building the Octoberfest room, I want to Build it now! I want production and accomplishment at a rate I can't financially sustain. I want the world and I want it NOW.
When construction stops due to lack of funds, ...I'll spend the food money on materials. Diet. Once the food money is being negotiated for materials it's only a matter of time before all aspects of my financial life start to feel the squeeze. Is there gas money? What if something breaks down? Can I afford a trip to the city and Love? When I'm tapped out will there be weed to smoke while I play spider Solitaire? All for a shack I want to sell. Damned when I do, Bored when I don't. Busy is better.
Anyway, I was just thinking what if China wanted to build a pipeline to Mexico through Southern Oregon and the locals had to become Taliban to resist the foreign profiteers? Ridiculous huh?
Bring the troops home now. Investigate and pursue the illegal actions of the previous administration. Bring our own countries criminals (Bush, Cheney etc.) to justice . Get busy. It's Summer.

Bradman

Ps - A room with a view

Boys With Money

Wednesday:
I had some boys with money from the Portland area down for a visit yesterday. Individuals living in the suburbs, bored and comfortable, existing in the customary fashion of the retired and affluent in America. I imagine.
They were going to Grants Pass to a Hot Rod shop to acquire parts for one of their toys, and, being that close , they came the forty miles down the Redwood highway to see Bradland. Not that they wanted to, but, they didn't want to come that close to Bradland and offend me by not stopping either. They'd like an invitation to my Octoberfest party.
They were impressed They especially liked my yard art. They suggested I add some new members to the family. They stayed about twenty minutes. Paradise.
Aaaaahhhh ...........these guys are soft. I'm sure they would drive the ten miles to town before they shit in a bucket. They need to get mountainfied. This is still a frontier. This ain't the eastern Sierra; This is the wilderness. This ain't no ranchette outside of Portland. It's dark here after the sun goes down. Large cats sharpen their claws on trees eight feet up the trunk. The bears get drunk on over ripe black-berries and come to dinner. On Sunday a grizzly knocked over my neighbors fence at 1200 Happy Camp rd and he was afraid to go outside and lock up the chicken coup. He had to call the State police. I'm going to drive down later and give him my number. Next time he can call me. I just got a bigger caliber rifle out of the safe. No wonder the neighbor's dog been barking. Yeah....Everybody ought to come to Bradland ....get a new perspective on what you got.
Tues:
I was in the city the last three days. Arrived home to an "offer'' for Bradland. After three days in the city I'm not so froggy to jump.( 105, 102,.105.101,...the high temperatures on the days I was there). The buyers are local boys whom have looked in Josephine county and realize there is not much land for sale at the price of Bradland. I like Josephine county. They think they can make it work. I admire their spirit. I hope they come up with a solid offer and the 60k down in the next ten days......
People keep asking me what will I do if I sell this property? Go to Italy. Go to China. Be nineteen. Become a hundred millionaire. Play jazz harmonica. Be Happy. Get old and nice. Alice and Brad lost in their lands. Anyway, another year older and it was a good one.
While I was celebrating did the world stop? Is the Iranian revolution for freedom over ? Did Ed McMahon and Farrah Fawcett come back to life? Every news broadcast I've seen is All about Michael Jackson . There's a memorial at the Apollo theatre; Everybody's Attorney, There's Joe Jackson sounding like a car salesman; And there is that microphone sucking Al Sharpton . Let the sensationalism start! Of course, he's really no worse than all the other players, dance contests, talent shows, reverends, etc whom will commercialize Michaels death into a three ring circus. Reminds me of the story of the Colonel opening a meeting after Elvis's death by flatly stating, " This changes nothing".
You could call into to the entertainment shows to cast your vote today, " Who was the best entertainer, Michael, Elvis, or the Beatles?" (Longevity will be in the music, not the dance, I believe).
Just one of the sick questions, viewers of various shows can express an opinion on. You would think some of this is a little premature though. Couldn't we at least wait for the guy to be buried before the real circus begins? I personally think they're going to keep the concert dates and Michael is going to make his greatest comeback ever during the Thriller segment......

The Past

There are many failures in my life. If one is to judge their life as being goal oriented and productive, or not; Mature or not; Revolutionary, enlightening, dedicated, committed, or not, I was a dismal failure. I was self and over indulged. I was blind, drugged, ignorant, selfish, stupid, addicted to stimulation and lost. I was bliss and narcissistic. Now, for the most part, I have to look behind me to see that demon ridden corpse, and more than I realize he should have never lived my life , I know he never will again.
Life is lived forward, and there is the triumph; I have thrown demons upon myself and carried them until I knew them, indulged them, paid the price for their association and divorced them. In the end of our relationship, I knew what we were all about, and I would not be consumed. At least not further. I've been there and done that, and pay a price for the experience. In some way or another, I pay the price for the experience every day.
The sum total of my knowledge:
If there is a Heaven it is in one's smile. Hell can be anywhere. If you have survived it and are stronger, look forward. Your failures become your triumphs when you overcome them.
There are those in the world whom willingly remind you of past failures.. They use what was as a means to control and manipulate. They use one's failures as a means to judge and oppress long after the mistake has been committed. Once an individual has triumphed over their mistakes, matured and changed, there is little reason to allow this oppression. The triumph includes understanding life is lived forward and mistakes in the past must be understood for reference and knowledge, then left in the past as not to handicap the future.
Life and Time will weaken and discourage some, others it will strengthen and make more determined. The path we choose and it's evaluation is all about perception. Other's perception is important to help us set our parameters, but only our own perception should determine how we feel about our path and where it has traveled. For all the lowlife, ugly, stimulating, depressing, crazy, wild life I've seen; For all the years I worked a rut; For all of life, I can not now be sorry for having been there, just as I'm not sorry for not living a life that was driven, motivated, religious, righteous or more acceptable to the judgmental.
The mistakes I've made, were made knowingly. I chose to do things. I chose how to live my life. The price I pay for bad choices is extracted every day, but, I owe the past nothing and take all of it forward only as reference. My failures are now my triumphs, for at almost 53, still breathing, I am only stronger from the battles with myself. Obviously they didn't kill me. Why would I let others now kill me over choices in the past I cannot change? How can I be sorry for living any moment when there are so precious few to spend.? Every breath we get is a small triumph over the inevitable day that's coming, so breath deep and enjoy the ride . Avoid the ruts. Make amends where necessary. Live forward, Enjoy, and know that whom you have been has everything to do with whom you will be, or whom you will not be, but the choice is yours and life is lived now and in the future.
Happiness is mostly perception and if there is a Heaven it is in your smile.

It Was A Bad Day

I was restless the night before my Uncle's funeral. Uncle Harold had died Monday of the previous week and today, eleven days later, the memorial was held in Anderson California. I was supposed to be there. I intended to be there. It was a bad day.
Tired , unable to get my normal three and a half hours of uninterrupted sleep between trips to the urination bowl, I rose at four thirty and hurried to begin my journey to Anderson 220 miles away. It would take three and a half hours minimum to get there from Bradland and I needed an early start to make my Uncle's memorial at ten AM. The night before I had packed a suitcase, planning to take the dog and the jeep. I polished and packed dress shoes, unworn for two years. I dusted off the shoulders of a semi-ironed white dress shirt suitable for a funeral. I brought out slacks unworn for more then two years and tried them on to make sure they still fit, then packed them and the shirt. I trimmed my beard and wished I had given myself a shave before the sun went down the night before. The sun shines into the shower during the day, I can see better for work with a blade.
In the morning I changed my mind. I was feeling broke because I had to buy a new cell phone last week, and construction expenses have been adding up on the Octoberfest (living) room for the shack. I decided to take the motorcycle. My jeep has 254,000 miles on it now and would use twice the gas of the motorcycle. I worry about the jeep. The dog couldn't go, but it was probably going to be too hot for him to hang in the jeep anyway. I didn't want to explain bringing my dog to the funeral either, though those that know, know he's my significant other 99% of the time.
I had worried all night about taking the jeep. The motorcycle had a bald rear tire. Now I worried about taking it too. In the end I decided to race down to Anderson, attend the memorial, and return home on the motorcycle. Save gas money. Do the seven hour round-trip ride and grit it out. No change of clothes. No slacks, dress shirt, or polished shoes. Just Bradman with some love for my Aunt. The important thing was to be there. That was the plan.
Normally a motorcycle ride on the Road-Monster is a more pleasant thing . However, I had ridden down the valley the previous week for six hours going, and returning, and I was plain tired of road tripping. Nevertheless I was rolling down I-5 at seventy miles in hour at six thirty in the morning, 80 miles from home and right between Grants Pass and Medford, when my rear tire blew .
I've been riding Honda Goldwings for 28 years now. I bought my first one in Texas in 1981, and have owned and ridden six others in the interim. In twenty eight years of riding I have never been broken down on the road. I was lost. I felt like a Harley Davidson. I decided to ride the flat tire to the next off ramp. A mile and a half later I wound up in the Rogue Valley rest area. It was there that I flagged a Oregon State Policeman. He called me a tow truck , and the rest of this story is about a string of expenses that depleted my savings account and destroyed all hope for a new jeep anytime soon.
It was a bad day and I hope things are good there, All my sympathy to You and the Girls and the Family .

PS I thought I was going to ride those tires all summer. I had no idea the rear one was showing cord. It must have worn out very quickly in the last hundred miles . And to think I got a ticket last week doing 87 miles per hour.