Happy Birthday to my dear dutch Auntie, who celebrated in the Hill Country this weekend!
Pollen affects people very differently; it makes me want to sleep endlessly. I had respite from the onslaught of pollen up until Saturday, and then it whacked me like a Batman comic. So, although I was rocking today in church, I'm still wiped out.
As sundown approaches, I hope that wakefulness doesn't grab me by the throat. That happened quite a bit in the last thermonuclear pollen meltdown.
During sleep of late, I keep dreaming of having met a new, fascinating man. This afternoon, in the drooling, post-church napification, it was a beefy would be real estate investor who was looking at an old house and apartment set that I've dreamt about oft before. He was eagerly tearing into closets and other scary elements of the abandoned house that I wouldn't go near. Last night, I was at Southland Mall in Portage, where I had my first job. I met a handsome Dutch man, who had an adorable tow headed little boy, and seemed to work for Continental Airlines managing their 767-200ER fleet.
Both of those dreams were interrupted as they got interesting. I keep swearing that I'm going to go get earplugs, and I don't do it.
So, four fascinating new man dreams in five nights. The first one was a combined dream car/dream man dream in which I was driving a new BMW 7, ; I was driving it around at night, and couldn't figure the headlights out - had to stop at a non-corporate exotic car store and ask for help. THEN, had a dream about having a boyfriend who was handsome, and fun, and smart, and not out to be supported..
I don't know which dream is less likely. I say the boyfriend; Brian says the 7. I'd prefer an S8 anyway.
Tell it to stop.
Moving into the NEW new office, which replaces the OLD new office across the parking lot. The office space is glorious. I have to find movers to haul my office furniture back across town to the new space, and that has to happen by this week, pretty much, since I have nothing to work on at the moment in the way of surfaces and chair.
Projects are presenting themselves, and there is a lot of enthusiasm on my part for the spring and summer months. I'd still like to have some clear guidance on what to be when I grow up.
Several years ago, when I was uncommonly attracted to the VW Phaeton, I thought it was the end-all, be-all car for me - now, one has been offered to me at a high but decent price, and I keep thinking "green Imperial" - another opportunity to have something disintegrate in the driveway.
Uh, no.
Quite a shift. I'd love one of Jason's Magic Audis, but they don't sell that particular model here in the US (A8 short wheel base, W12 motor) so the closest I could come to Jason's MAGIC Audi would be a S8. I just don't see paying that much money for a car, though.
I think I'll watch another episode or two of "The World at War" - a BBC documentary filmed in the early 1970s. It's an amazing piece of work. Last night, Alger Hiss, Curtis LeMay, Avrill Harrimann, Lord Avon, and three members of the Imperial Japanese Cabinet were interviewed (on my TV!) Contrary to what we're hearing these days, the Japanese Cabinet members suggested that Japan would NOT have withdrawn from the war had we not dropped the atomic bomb, and that the Emperor himself made the decision to quit the war; the Cabinet, the Army and the Navy were totally against it. They wanted to fight to the last man.
I'm almost into the bonus material of the series. It's awesome. If you're a history buff or a WWII buff, you should rent this from Netflix (don't buy DVDs, sheesh!) and watch it. It's about 40 hours of programming, so don't expect to do it in a weekend.
DJHJD
Sunday, April 05, 2009
Monday, March 09, 2009
The dreams of my death are...
Pretty darned cool!
The other day, I was enjoying the random nonsense themes that my brain was generating (if you stop and reflect instead of letting it rule the roost, it's very much like having Lewis Carroll writing you a personalized fantasy all day long). As the monkey mind was spinning around, one of the thoughts that passed through was of serious illness and I re-assessed the idea of death. Most of my prior contemplations about death focused on anger, disappointment, or loss. This time, I was okay with it all. Okay as in I feel like I've gotten somewhere with this experience of life, and if it were my time, I'd be okay with it.
Perhaps that contemplation led me to this morning's multi-media dream event about my own death, but it was pretty darned cool.
As evidence for this being a sleeping dream, allow me to share with you that the circumstances and place of my demise were that I was about to make my first appearance as the Wicked Witch in a Broadway touring production of "Wicked," and would have been the first male cast in that role. I was in costume, and working with the production manager who had herself played the role of the witch, and she was showing me how easy it was going to be to fold myself in half and have only my flagellating arms and legs poking out of the hole in the stage that would facilitate the sequence where I was "dissolving" after having been doused with water. There was lots of gauze, and lots of activity (and the show was going on right then), and I went back around the curtain to prepare for my entrance. Just then, I gently fell to the floor, in a pool of muslin, heavy velvet and gauze and realized I was having a heart attack.
The dream continued with me calling on people who were yet alive, and with whom I had a strong emotional connection. My visitations with them were joyous; I was filled with love for them and for our relationship together. Occasionally, one of these people was able to perceive me as if nothing had changed, and we had conversational interaction.
Guy and I had some time together, going through a grocery store as he loaded his basket with items needed at home, and the two of us chatting about psychology, human behavior and airplanes, just as always. It was immensely rewarding.
The other day, I was enjoying the random nonsense themes that my brain was generating (if you stop and reflect instead of letting it rule the roost, it's very much like having Lewis Carroll writing you a personalized fantasy all day long). As the monkey mind was spinning around, one of the thoughts that passed through was of serious illness and I re-assessed the idea of death. Most of my prior contemplations about death focused on anger, disappointment, or loss. This time, I was okay with it all. Okay as in I feel like I've gotten somewhere with this experience of life, and if it were my time, I'd be okay with it.
Perhaps that contemplation led me to this morning's multi-media dream event about my own death, but it was pretty darned cool.
As evidence for this being a sleeping dream, allow me to share with you that the circumstances and place of my demise were that I was about to make my first appearance as the Wicked Witch in a Broadway touring production of "Wicked," and would have been the first male cast in that role. I was in costume, and working with the production manager who had herself played the role of the witch, and she was showing me how easy it was going to be to fold myself in half and have only my flagellating arms and legs poking out of the hole in the stage that would facilitate the sequence where I was "dissolving" after having been doused with water. There was lots of gauze, and lots of activity (and the show was going on right then), and I went back around the curtain to prepare for my entrance. Just then, I gently fell to the floor, in a pool of muslin, heavy velvet and gauze and realized I was having a heart attack.
The dream continued with me calling on people who were yet alive, and with whom I had a strong emotional connection. My visitations with them were joyous; I was filled with love for them and for our relationship together. Occasionally, one of these people was able to perceive me as if nothing had changed, and we had conversational interaction.
Guy and I had some time together, going through a grocery store as he loaded his basket with items needed at home, and the two of us chatting about psychology, human behavior and airplanes, just as always. It was immensely rewarding.
Wednesday, February 25, 2009
Went to a BMW 7 launch party last night
Reception. Open bar, sushi buffet, in the grand ballroom of the Zaza, with two brand new BMW 7s. The corporate product manager for 6/7 was there (we chatted her up for at least a half hour) plus the regional management for BMW corporate, a bunch of contract product specialists (whom my friend Jeffrey terrified all) and about 150 would bes and wanna bes milling about with about 20 be-s
A diminutive latin boy (he's 40 actually) named Carlos, very handsome, awesome body, about 5'4" who's in the real estate business was at the BMW reception last night. Thinks he's straight, but was glommed onto Jeffrey like a barnacle.
Carlos was talking to "his" BMW salesman from Advantage downtown, saying he'd had six BMWs in the last eight years. the salesman said "six? really?" Had he bought six from the same guy, the guy would have known Carlos' birth weight, along with the details of the cars.
Carlos was with a VERY handsome South American man name of Carlo who wasn't very comfortable and didn't speak very well English.
Carlo ditched Carlos, and Carlos started glomming in more firmly. By that time, we were at the bar and Jeffrey had struck up a conversation with McCain Herring (as in McCain and JoAnn Herring). We pawned Carlos off on JoAnn Herring's Granddaughter in law who took him home in her BMW Alpina B7 - the only example in the Houston area.
On the way out the door, I spoke to one of the marketing reps, and told her about the abysmal local level dealer internet communication and made some specific suggestions - which she said she was going to share with the regional and national BMW folks who make things happen. Heh!
A diminutive latin boy (he's 40 actually) named Carlos, very handsome, awesome body, about 5'4" who's in the real estate business was at the BMW reception last night. Thinks he's straight, but was glommed onto Jeffrey like a barnacle.
Carlos was talking to "his" BMW salesman from Advantage downtown, saying he'd had six BMWs in the last eight years. the salesman said "six? really?" Had he bought six from the same guy, the guy would have known Carlos' birth weight, along with the details of the cars.
Carlos was with a VERY handsome South American man name of Carlo who wasn't very comfortable and didn't speak very well English.
Carlo ditched Carlos, and Carlos started glomming in more firmly. By that time, we were at the bar and Jeffrey had struck up a conversation with
On the way out the door, I spoke to one of the marketing reps, and told her about the abysmal local level dealer internet communication and made some specific suggestions - which she said she was going to share with the regional and national BMW folks who make things happen. Heh!
Monday, February 23, 2009
The last Monday of February
More moving on the horizon - this is a great space here, but the noise from the neighbor downstairs and the car wash next door is disturbing. Getting out of storage, and into a more business like environment will be great.
Brian last night reminded me of the Hyundai Genesis Coupe, which I had seen and been impressed by at the Houston Auto Show and Gift Exchange. It's CHEAP. It's GORGEOUS. Wow.
Last week, I pulled a box of Marvin the Martian stuff out from my desk and unpacked it all. It just doesn't have the interest for me that it used to. Maybe it's time for it all to head yonder into the sunset.
Brian last night reminded me of the Hyundai Genesis Coupe, which I had seen and been impressed by at the Houston Auto Show and Gift Exchange. It's CHEAP. It's GORGEOUS. Wow.
Last week, I pulled a box of Marvin the Martian stuff out from my desk and unpacked it all. It just doesn't have the interest for me that it used to. Maybe it's time for it all to head yonder into the sunset.
Sunday, February 15, 2009
the day after Single Awareness Day
It's just astonishing how something totally made up can drive people to choose financial hardship, enormous and impossible expectations, or even bizarre, temporary assignations.
Valentine's Day was made up by Geoffrey Chaucer, who was a poet, and therefore had an axe to grind and sell. It lay mostly fallow until the mid 1800's, when it was resurrected by a writer (needing something to write about) and then a Massachusetts woman who created a niche for herself with mass produced Valentine's Day cards. Her father owned a large printing company, thus she was able to create this new product line and distribute it.
For a profit.
Only since the end of World War II has the United States lept off into the deep end of the commercial swimming pool, by lavishing ever more expensive trinkets on one's "love". The candy business sells over $345 Millions in chocolate. The event is good for an additional $250 Millions in hotel rooms. A billion cards, averaging $3.50 each. 110 Million roses at $40/dozen. The average consumer spends $77.43 for their Valentine.
For many, it is one of the only occasions during the year that their affection and appreciation is expressed for their loved one.
Well, I don't feel left out, disabused, a lesser being because I have not lavished effusive trinkets upon a special someone.
But, I do feel $77.43 better off.
Valentine's Day was made up by Geoffrey Chaucer, who was a poet, and therefore had an axe to grind and sell. It lay mostly fallow until the mid 1800's, when it was resurrected by a writer (needing something to write about) and then a Massachusetts woman who created a niche for herself with mass produced Valentine's Day cards. Her father owned a large printing company, thus she was able to create this new product line and distribute it.
For a profit.
Only since the end of World War II has the United States lept off into the deep end of the commercial swimming pool, by lavishing ever more expensive trinkets on one's "love". The candy business sells over $345 Millions in chocolate. The event is good for an additional $250 Millions in hotel rooms. A billion cards, averaging $3.50 each. 110 Million roses at $40/dozen. The average consumer spends $77.43 for their Valentine.
For many, it is one of the only occasions during the year that their affection and appreciation is expressed for their loved one.
Well, I don't feel left out, disabused, a lesser being because I have not lavished effusive trinkets upon a special someone.
But, I do feel $77.43 better off.
Tuesday, February 03, 2009
Thursday, January 29, 2009
Where does the time go?
Twenty-nine days of January gone by already. Did I do anything with it? I think so. I hope so.
I want chocolate for reasons I cannot name. Should I or shouldn't I?
Should I, as it turns out.
I want chocolate for reasons I cannot name. Should I or shouldn't I?
Should I, as it turns out.
Monday, January 26, 2009
Just a spoon full of sugar...
My interest in blogging has been flagging for some time.
Is that because I've read elsewhere that blogging is passe? Most bloggers either use their sites for lots of posts related to their primary business (journalism) or their primary axe to grind (obvious) or politics. Many of the blog sites I used to frequent a few years ago are now dormant, and most of the personal blog sites are deader than a door nail.
So, we're back from the inauguration. It was AWESOME. The best part of the trip (aside from the amazing Westin Hotel "Heavenly Beds") was how people interacted everywhere we went. No grumbling, complaining, trying to get ahead in line, trying to gain an advantage. Open, friendly, excited, helpful - I could get used to living in that world all the time.
It's time for some sleep. And a clearance sale. More of that is coming my way - getting rid of more boxes of stuff I won't/don't use and don't want anymore.
Is that because I've read elsewhere that blogging is passe? Most bloggers either use their sites for lots of posts related to their primary business (journalism) or their primary axe to grind (obvious) or politics. Many of the blog sites I used to frequent a few years ago are now dormant, and most of the personal blog sites are deader than a door nail.
So, we're back from the inauguration. It was AWESOME. The best part of the trip (aside from the amazing Westin Hotel "Heavenly Beds") was how people interacted everywhere we went. No grumbling, complaining, trying to get ahead in line, trying to gain an advantage. Open, friendly, excited, helpful - I could get used to living in that world all the time.
It's time for some sleep. And a clearance sale. More of that is coming my way - getting rid of more boxes of stuff I won't/don't use and don't want anymore.
Friday, January 09, 2009
Where's the motivation?
I've hung up some pictures, but what is slowing me down is the mass of boxes and assorted crap that needs to be gone through, and about half either thrown away or photographed to sell on eBay and Amazon.
Blarg. No fun.
Blarg. No fun.
Slow starts, beautiful Fridays
I guess I can't be TOO self-critical; I did get all the stuff going to the church rummage sale, the resale shop and the office for the big eBay sell-off loaded into the car.
Why was it again that I didn't buy a truck? Lord.
I'm reading the most amazing book any gay man will ever take up - "Velvet Rage," which seems to be transformational for me, but the transformation is yet to be fully revealed.
If you're a gay man, or worried that you may be, you should read this book at once. Then, read it again.
Also, you MUST see "Revolutionary Road" unless you require your movies to be mindless, flashy distractions. It's an excellent piece, complex, nuanced, beautifully produced and filmed and splendidly acted.
I'm hoping there's a hammer at the office, since there isn't one here and my three are all locked up in my storage unit.
Did I mention that I found my fabulous little video camera yesterday? No? Sorry, it was in a box at the office, just as I suspected.
Tonight is a movie night at the church. Sunday is the big come to meeting day. I'll be away from the house most of the weekend, which is agreeable, I guess.
I guess I'd best get showered and join the stuff in the car for the trip into town.
Why was it again that I didn't buy a truck? Lord.
I'm reading the most amazing book any gay man will ever take up - "Velvet Rage," which seems to be transformational for me, but the transformation is yet to be fully revealed.
If you're a gay man, or worried that you may be, you should read this book at once. Then, read it again.
Also, you MUST see "Revolutionary Road" unless you require your movies to be mindless, flashy distractions. It's an excellent piece, complex, nuanced, beautifully produced and filmed and splendidly acted.
I'm hoping there's a hammer at the office, since there isn't one here and my three are all locked up in my storage unit.
Did I mention that I found my fabulous little video camera yesterday? No? Sorry, it was in a box at the office, just as I suspected.
Tonight is a movie night at the church. Sunday is the big come to meeting day. I'll be away from the house most of the weekend, which is agreeable, I guess.
I guess I'd best get showered and join the stuff in the car for the trip into town.
Wednesday, January 07, 2009
Re-arranged, now to unpack and unload
What a whiner I was this afternoon. I guess since I was paying for the privilege, it's acceptable. I can't find my Marvin the Martian camera bag that contains my cute little video camera. I wonder where in the heck I have left it.
Probably in a box at the office. Along with three boxes of VHS (which are all for Half-Price books on Friday,) six boxes of books (which have to be vetted through Amazon first,) 20 boxes of client files (which need a home in the unused front room) and ten boxes of miscellaneous file folders, laminating supplies, etc.
Just had a terrific response from the guy who did my Fabulair bag samples a year ago - ooooh, baby! Anyone want to buy a Fabulair bag? I'm getting 25 black and 25 white. Let me know. I can post a picture thereof, if it's something you'd like to see.
WHERE is my camera bag?
I have a 9 am doctor's appointment, and it's a 25 mile drive there. Officially - yuck.
But, it will have me at the office early. I have my work cut out for me.
Probably in a box at the office. Along with three boxes of VHS (which are all for Half-Price books on Friday,) six boxes of books (which have to be vetted through Amazon first,) 20 boxes of client files (which need a home in the unused front room) and ten boxes of miscellaneous file folders, laminating supplies, etc.
Just had a terrific response from the guy who did my Fabulair bag samples a year ago - ooooh, baby! Anyone want to buy a Fabulair bag? I'm getting 25 black and 25 white. Let me know. I can post a picture thereof, if it's something you'd like to see.
WHERE is my camera bag?
I have a 9 am doctor's appointment, and it's a 25 mile drive there. Officially - yuck.
But, it will have me at the office early. I have my work cut out for me.
Tuesday, January 06, 2009
the failure to shop around
The other day, I took my car back to CarMax for some repairs under the service agreement. Seems they don't just take your car in, you have to make an appointment, and tell them what they're going to be doing, and then bring it BACK. You have to go in because they don't answer the phone in the service department. Ever.
Well, I made an appointment to have these things done, and the service writer tells me that since I've nearly got 60,000 miles on the car, I need to schedule the 60,000 service for $440. What do I know? I remember when cars had to have brakes every 15,000 miles and their chassis fittings lubricated every 3,000 miles, and fell apart completely around 75,000 miles.
The morning of, I had a conflict. The snow fell, Yellowstone blew up, people voted Republican, SOMETHING. I started calling the CarMax folks at about 7:30 a.m. to tell them "I must reschedule."
But, CarMax's service department doesn't answer their phone, remember? I never got through to anyone. Left several messages. No calls returned.
Weeks pass.
I still need the work done, but I've had the oil changed and the cabin filter replaced (which involved a great deal of jerking, prying, wedging and swearing, but was finally done.) The total cost for these two services was less than $80 (plus the skinned cuticles and knuckles.)
Yesterday, I had decided that trying to communicate with CarMax and getting the car TO CarMax to re-make the appointment and then take it back FOR the appointment was too much trouble, and I'd just take the car to reliable Poutous Auto Repair on Kelvin.
I ask the nice lady at the desk what the cost is for the 60,000 mile service. She asks one of the owners. He says "there is no such thing." Uh, what? The CarMax guy was making it sound like it was a crucial thing - successful economic stimulus depended on my having this done RIGHT AWAY. Mike Poutous tells me "you probably need an oil change, a cabin filter replacement and a bunch of stuff checked. We'll check it for you, and then call you and tell you what needs to be dne, but I'm not going to tell you I'm going to charge you four or five hundred dollars to do the 60,000 mile service when it's an oil change and looking around under the hood."
I came back to the office, and looked at my owner's manual. At the 60,000 mile interval, GM tells me to:
* Change the oil
* Change the engine air filter
* Change the cabin air filter
* Rotate the tires
All of which have already been done, except for the "poke around under the hood."
By the by, my "dealer," David Taylor Cadillac, would like to collect $498.25 for this "service," PLUS PARTS and state sales tax. They'll install a PCV valve for me, and a fuel filter. Mind, the PCV valve and fuel filter would be EXTRA (and costs a buck sixty-nine and the fuel filter is seven bucks at AutoZone.) The fuel system "flush" involves putting a can of Wynn's fuel system flush in the gas tank.
Caveat Emptor. Ya better shop around.
Well, I made an appointment to have these things done, and the service writer tells me that since I've nearly got 60,000 miles on the car, I need to schedule the 60,000 service for $440. What do I know? I remember when cars had to have brakes every 15,000 miles and their chassis fittings lubricated every 3,000 miles, and fell apart completely around 75,000 miles.
The morning of, I had a conflict. The snow fell, Yellowstone blew up, people voted Republican, SOMETHING. I started calling the CarMax folks at about 7:30 a.m. to tell them "I must reschedule."
But, CarMax's service department doesn't answer their phone, remember? I never got through to anyone. Left several messages. No calls returned.
Weeks pass.
I still need the work done, but I've had the oil changed and the cabin filter replaced (which involved a great deal of jerking, prying, wedging and swearing, but was finally done.) The total cost for these two services was less than $80 (plus the skinned cuticles and knuckles.)
Yesterday, I had decided that trying to communicate with CarMax and getting the car TO CarMax to re-make the appointment and then take it back FOR the appointment was too much trouble, and I'd just take the car to reliable Poutous Auto Repair on Kelvin.
I ask the nice lady at the desk what the cost is for the 60,000 mile service. She asks one of the owners. He says "there is no such thing." Uh, what? The CarMax guy was making it sound like it was a crucial thing - successful economic stimulus depended on my having this done RIGHT AWAY. Mike Poutous tells me "you probably need an oil change, a cabin filter replacement and a bunch of stuff checked. We'll check it for you, and then call you and tell you what needs to be dne, but I'm not going to tell you I'm going to charge you four or five hundred dollars to do the 60,000 mile service when it's an oil change and looking around under the hood."
I came back to the office, and looked at my owner's manual. At the 60,000 mile interval, GM tells me to:
* Change the oil
* Change the engine air filter
* Change the cabin air filter
* Rotate the tires
All of which have already been done, except for the "poke around under the hood."
By the by, my "dealer," David Taylor Cadillac, would like to collect $498.25 for this "service," PLUS PARTS and state sales tax. They'll install a PCV valve for me, and a fuel filter. Mind, the PCV valve and fuel filter would be EXTRA (and costs a buck sixty-nine and the fuel filter is seven bucks at AutoZone.) The fuel system "flush" involves putting a can of Wynn's fuel system flush in the gas tank.
Caveat Emptor. Ya better shop around.
Tuesday, December 30, 2008
The next to the last evening of 2008
I won't miss 2008 a bit, no thank you. Not that good things didn't begin to develop, and better, newer ways of being began to manifest. But, for those things to manifest, a great deal of lurching, gut-wrenching, free-falling uncertainty and drama was required and I didn't favor that very much, thank you.
The homework assignment before me is to write out in detail what I want if there were no considerations or obstacles. A good exercise for anyone, especially facing down the barrels of a new year.
I am seeing clearly for the first time just how much drama and obstacle most people put in front of themselves. They're tripping over it (I've been tripping over it) and not even aware that it's there, just going forward expecting that that is how things are supposed to be.
The homework assignment before me is to write out in detail what I want if there were no considerations or obstacles. A good exercise for anyone, especially facing down the barrels of a new year.
I am seeing clearly for the first time just how much drama and obstacle most people put in front of themselves. They're tripping over it (I've been tripping over it) and not even aware that it's there, just going forward expecting that that is how things are supposed to be.
Friday, December 19, 2008
What if we have an opportunity with this Rick Warren controversy?
First let me preface my diary by stating that I'm a Religious Scientist (not a Scientologist, click here for a wikipedia article.) I believe that everything we experience in life is coming from our own belief of the world.
That is a HARD thing to have to balance with something as initially disturbing as Rick Warren's selection to give the invocation at Obama's inauguration.
Unlike those that support HRC and the Log Cabin Republicans, I believe that everyone in the GLBT community deserves full human rights NOW. Unlike many, I believe that the anti-GLBT dialogue from those like Rick Warren contributes to the huge spike in anti-GLBT violence which was beautifully summarized by PICO over on Daily Kos today. How our leaders speak sets the tone by which people act and react.
When I saw Rick Warren was Obama's choice, I felt betrayed. However, these last few days, I've been wrestling with my own tendency to view myself as a victim of circumstances - even those circumstances that are fully within my control.
Victim/not victim. What is the difference? In the abstract, that's not difficult to understand.
In the moment of seeing what is clearly an abandonment, or a turning away after WE helped him get elected it's not as easy.
I agree with the folks who are complaining that in saying that he is for working together in spite of differences and what's gone in the past, Obama is saying that it we (the GLBT community) that has to give up being right and come across the aisle to shake hands and accept Rick Warren.
What if that's what Obama has in mind for us?
The other night, someone commenting on a GLBT themed diary on Daily Kos made the joke that without us, straight people are destined to have bad clothing, hair and drink cheap wine from a box.
Okay, you grinned, you know you did.
Even when we in the GLBT community are feeling most abused and diminished, we know that deep down we're very special people. What if Obama is, knowingly or unknowingly, calling for us to step forward and BE special?
Again, I've been wrestling with my own thinking and personality in the last week, and at that micro level (which is quite macro for me, thanks, but in the scheme of things..) I've been seeing where being right about being victimized has kept me back. Engaged in whipping up big drama has kept me back.
We are righteously whipping up big drama over Rick Warren's selection.
Is that what will best serve us as a people?
One thought - Rick Warren is giving the invocation. Dr. Joseph Lowery is giving the benediction. Rick Warren starts, but Dr. Lowery finishes.
Is that not a metaphor for what is happening here? We're starting the ceremony with self-righteousness, focusing on those that appear different so as to gain advantage, and selfish greed - and we're ending up with inclusion and acceptance and working together regardless of the apparent differences.
Moving from one to the opposite way of handling things. If we move to inclusion and acceptance and working together, we're going to HAVE to include and accept those that have not and do not accept us.
What if we, the GLBT community have this glorious opportunity to LEAD?
The website DailyOm today posted a spot-on comment about exactly this. They couldn't have known that we'd be wrestling with Rick Warren today. It's serendipity, if you believe in that, or it's the word of Spirit right at the moment it's needed, if you believe in that.
I'm going to give you the opening paragraph, but because of copyright and the site's TOS, you'll have to click through to read it all.
I don't know how exactly we're going to lead from this, but how about we start to look for ways to do so that aren't reaching back to the last 28 years and trying to be the powers that be that dictate terms to the other side? How about if we in the GLBT community follow the words of our newly elected leader, which are so poignant and so needed right now, and we accept, love, and work with everyone?
What if GLBT people were viewed as not only the ones with all the style, wit, flair and vibrance, but we also were the ones that gave the world peace and hope?
If we can create what we have already done, marginalized and closeted, we can do this. If we can create lasting community service organizations to help ourselves when the straight community abandoned us in righteous judgment over AIDS, we can do this.
It's a far more empowering mission than figuring out how to gain revenge for betrayal.
December 19, 2008
The Great Transformer
Loving What You Hate
"Hatred can be irrational, and it has a greater impact on the individual who hates than the person or object being hated. Yet overcoming hatred is difficult because hatred reinforces itself and causes greater enmity to come into being. The most powerful tool one can use to combat hatred is love. Deciding to love what you hate, whether this is a person, situation, or a part of yourself, can create a profound change in your feelings and your experience. There is little room for anger, dislike, bitterness, or resentment when you are busy loving what you hate. The practice of loving what you hate can transform and shift your emotions from hatred to love, because there is no room for hatred in a space occupied by love."
That is a HARD thing to have to balance with something as initially disturbing as Rick Warren's selection to give the invocation at Obama's inauguration.
Unlike those that support HRC and the Log Cabin Republicans, I believe that everyone in the GLBT community deserves full human rights NOW. Unlike many, I believe that the anti-GLBT dialogue from those like Rick Warren contributes to the huge spike in anti-GLBT violence which was beautifully summarized by PICO over on Daily Kos today. How our leaders speak sets the tone by which people act and react.
When I saw Rick Warren was Obama's choice, I felt betrayed. However, these last few days, I've been wrestling with my own tendency to view myself as a victim of circumstances - even those circumstances that are fully within my control.
Victim/not victim. What is the difference? In the abstract, that's not difficult to understand.
In the moment of seeing what is clearly an abandonment, or a turning away after WE helped him get elected it's not as easy.
I agree with the folks who are complaining that in saying that he is for working together in spite of differences and what's gone in the past, Obama is saying that it we (the GLBT community) that has to give up being right and come across the aisle to shake hands and accept Rick Warren.
What if that's what Obama has in mind for us?
The other night, someone commenting on a GLBT themed diary on Daily Kos made the joke that without us, straight people are destined to have bad clothing, hair and drink cheap wine from a box.
Okay, you grinned, you know you did.
Even when we in the GLBT community are feeling most abused and diminished, we know that deep down we're very special people. What if Obama is, knowingly or unknowingly, calling for us to step forward and BE special?
Again, I've been wrestling with my own thinking and personality in the last week, and at that micro level (which is quite macro for me, thanks, but in the scheme of things..) I've been seeing where being right about being victimized has kept me back. Engaged in whipping up big drama has kept me back.
We are righteously whipping up big drama over Rick Warren's selection.
Is that what will best serve us as a people?
One thought - Rick Warren is giving the invocation. Dr. Joseph Lowery is giving the benediction. Rick Warren starts, but Dr. Lowery finishes.
Is that not a metaphor for what is happening here? We're starting the ceremony with self-righteousness, focusing on those that appear different so as to gain advantage, and selfish greed - and we're ending up with inclusion and acceptance and working together regardless of the apparent differences.
Moving from one to the opposite way of handling things. If we move to inclusion and acceptance and working together, we're going to HAVE to include and accept those that have not and do not accept us.
What if we, the GLBT community have this glorious opportunity to LEAD?
The website DailyOm today posted a spot-on comment about exactly this. They couldn't have known that we'd be wrestling with Rick Warren today. It's serendipity, if you believe in that, or it's the word of Spirit right at the moment it's needed, if you believe in that.
I'm going to give you the opening paragraph, but because of copyright and the site's TOS, you'll have to click through to read it all.
I don't know how exactly we're going to lead from this, but how about we start to look for ways to do so that aren't reaching back to the last 28 years and trying to be the powers that be that dictate terms to the other side? How about if we in the GLBT community follow the words of our newly elected leader, which are so poignant and so needed right now, and we accept, love, and work with everyone?
What if GLBT people were viewed as not only the ones with all the style, wit, flair and vibrance, but we also were the ones that gave the world peace and hope?
If we can create what we have already done, marginalized and closeted, we can do this. If we can create lasting community service organizations to help ourselves when the straight community abandoned us in righteous judgment over AIDS, we can do this.
It's a far more empowering mission than figuring out how to gain revenge for betrayal.
December 19, 2008
The Great Transformer
Loving What You Hate
"Hatred can be irrational, and it has a greater impact on the individual who hates than the person or object being hated. Yet overcoming hatred is difficult because hatred reinforces itself and causes greater enmity to come into being. The most powerful tool one can use to combat hatred is love. Deciding to love what you hate, whether this is a person, situation, or a part of yourself, can create a profound change in your feelings and your experience. There is little room for anger, dislike, bitterness, or resentment when you are busy loving what you hate. The practice of loving what you hate can transform and shift your emotions from hatred to love, because there is no room for hatred in a space occupied by love."
Maybe it's time to take a class
If you're like most people, you probably have a smart phone. Blackberry, Treo, something that accesses the internet, has a full keyboard, does it all.
Have you ever marveled at one of these little hand held devices and remembered what it was like fifteen years ago? How much like Star Trek are these little things?
They're going to get a whole lot more complex, and a whole lot faster than you may think. In another four years, what we'll be buying will seem far more like a Star Trek tricorder than what we're using now. You have seen the billboards for "3G wireless networks" - welcome to 4G.
Now, if you go to that linked article about 4G and can read it and understand it, you're probably a physicist or something. I looked at it a few times and boiled it down to this:
* None of the phones we're using now will work at all in about three years
* What we're just now starting to get used to - streaming video on our handheld, slow and clunky internet, navigation on our handhelds - is merely a baby step compared to the 4G devices that we'll see awfully soon
* The only thing that will hold a 4G device back is the screen size. There will be some 4G handheld devices that will have more computing power than the laptop I'm writing this on - and you can use it to stream movies, work at your desk, or in replacement of the stereo system and navigation system in your car through wireless Bluetooth-like technology and full sized monitors/keyboards.
* South Korea has already re-wired their wireless networks to 4G and is rolling out the products - this is not speculation, it is coming more certainly than the inaguration on January 20
* In another five years or so, your new car will have a video screen, and a power/cable plug for your 4G device, which will be the video/audio/satellite radio/navigation system/trip computer/telephone for your vehicle. If you rent a car, you'll have your normal and familiar functionality with you.
* No more laptop cases, no more lugging your eight pound device around. No more desktop computers. Monitors, keyboards and pointers (commonly called a mouse) with a power port will be the work stations of the very near future. This alone will massively reduce electrical consumption.
* You'll never have to miss your favorite TV program ever again!
Well, Lieutenant Uhura, get me Star Fleet on the comm!
What to do with this information? If you're challenged by your Blackberry NOW, take a class about them at HCC or something! The train is whistling to leave the station, and your competitors (who can handle this massive technology shift) will be aboard!
Have you ever marveled at one of these little hand held devices and remembered what it was like fifteen years ago? How much like Star Trek are these little things?
They're going to get a whole lot more complex, and a whole lot faster than you may think. In another four years, what we'll be buying will seem far more like a Star Trek tricorder than what we're using now. You have seen the billboards for "3G wireless networks" - welcome to 4G.
Now, if you go to that linked article about 4G and can read it and understand it, you're probably a physicist or something. I looked at it a few times and boiled it down to this:
* None of the phones we're using now will work at all in about three years
* What we're just now starting to get used to - streaming video on our handheld, slow and clunky internet, navigation on our handhelds - is merely a baby step compared to the 4G devices that we'll see awfully soon
* The only thing that will hold a 4G device back is the screen size. There will be some 4G handheld devices that will have more computing power than the laptop I'm writing this on - and you can use it to stream movies, work at your desk, or in replacement of the stereo system and navigation system in your car through wireless Bluetooth-like technology and full sized monitors/keyboards.
* South Korea has already re-wired their wireless networks to 4G and is rolling out the products - this is not speculation, it is coming more certainly than the inaguration on January 20
* In another five years or so, your new car will have a video screen, and a power/cable plug for your 4G device, which will be the video/audio/satellite radio/navigation system/trip computer/telephone for your vehicle. If you rent a car, you'll have your normal and familiar functionality with you.
* No more laptop cases, no more lugging your eight pound device around. No more desktop computers. Monitors, keyboards and pointers (commonly called a mouse) with a power port will be the work stations of the very near future. This alone will massively reduce electrical consumption.
* You'll never have to miss your favorite TV program ever again!
Well, Lieutenant Uhura, get me Star Fleet on the comm!
What to do with this information? If you're challenged by your Blackberry NOW, take a class about them at HCC or something! The train is whistling to leave the station, and your competitors (who can handle this massive technology shift) will be aboard!
Monday, December 01, 2008
Hey, Conservatives -
The other day, Eric from Vancouver was touting his local MP (that's what the Canuckistanians call their Congresscritters) web page. He linked me to her website, and there occupying all of the up front real estate, was a story that told of the MP's informing the Border Security guys to watch for Americans coming across the border to protest in Vancouver at a Gay Pride event.
Seems in Canada it's a crime to incent hatred or discrimination toward other groups.
The few people in the US that I spoke to about this (outside the City and County of San Francisco, that is) thought that was "stupid."
Turns out there's a completely valid reason for this. From a diarist at Daily Kos:
For a really good time this December 1st, read the comments.
Seems in Canada it's a crime to incent hatred or discrimination toward other groups.
The few people in the US that I spoke to about this (outside the City and County of San Francisco, that is) thought that was "stupid."
Turns out there's a completely valid reason for this. From a diarist at Daily Kos:
The Psychological Harm of Anti-Gay Initiatives
by RfrancisR
Sun Nov 30, 2008 at 08:13:16 AM PST
Been feeling angry, fearful, sad, or depressed, lately? I have. I remember the joy I felt on election night, and how that joy came crashing down when I woke up the next morning to the reality of California's Prop 8 having passed. It blew me away. I had been talking to my sister in the weeks leading up to the vote of possibly moving out there with her so that me and my boyfriend of nearly nineteen years could get married. To straight people out there, imagine being with your boyfriend or girlfriend for nineteen years. Who has a boyfriend that long? Imagine never being able to call, by law, your boyfriend or girlfriend your spouse, and imagine that was the case because people who hated you spend millions to tell your neighbors every lie in the book about you.
Dr Gregory Herek, one of the foremost experts on the issue of sexual minorities, has posted a wonderful blog documenting the very real psychological harm of anti-gay ballot initiatives.
* RfrancisR's diary :: ::
*
Evidence has documented so called minority stress, the additional psychological stress that is caused by being an out-group in society. Now, Herek points us to research that proves that vicious anti-gay campaigns ran to help pass anti-gay measures do severe psychological harm to the GLBT community tantamount to PTSD. It's not merely the loss of a legal recognition of a marriage. It is brutal psychological warfare against gays and lesbians.
I can’t do justice to Dr. Russell’s book-length account here, especially her in-depth descriptions of the stories related by research participants. But one of her important findings was that a substantial segment of the sample reported many symptoms that are commonly associated with depression, anxiety disorders, and post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD), and they perceived that these symptoms were a direct result of having lived through the months of antigay campaigning.
Through Internet surveys, the researchers used standard mental health measures to assess the current well-being of more than 1500 lesbian, gay, and bisexual adults. For example, respondents were asked whether they had recently experienced various symptoms of depression, such as having difficulty sleeping or concentrating, feeling fearful or hopeless, and not being able to “get going.” They were also asked about the extent to which they were experiencing negative emotions, such as fear, irritability, hostility, and nervousness.
587 participants completed two versions of the questionnaires — one in the spring of 2006 and a second one about 6 months later, shortly after the November elections. Nearly one thousand others completed the post-election questionnaire, but not the pre-election survey.
The researchers sorted participants into two groups — those living in a state with an anti-marriage amendment on the 2006 November ballot and those in other states. Not surprisingly, compared to residents of other states, residents of the amendment-campaign states reported encountering a larger number of antigay messages in the mass media and in day-to-day conversations. Moreover, comparison of the November questionnaires with those administered six months earlier revealed that the number of encounters with negative messages had increased significantly in the amendment states but not in the other states.
When the researchers examined the mental health data, they found that residents of the states where an antigay campaign had just been waged reported higher levels of stress, more negative emotions, and more symptoms of depression than did respondents who lived elsewhere. Comparison of the pre-election and post-election questionnaires revealed that levels of psychological distress had increased significantly among residents of states with a marriage amendment on the ballot, but not among residents of other states.
In sum, the findings of Dr. Rostosky’s group support and extend those of Dr. Russell’s research team. By examining the experiences of sexual minority adults residing in different states, and by comparing scores on mental health measures before and after the statewide antigay campaigns, they provide good evidence that marriage amendment campaigns are harmful to the mental health of lesbians, gay men, and bisexuals.
BeyondHomophobia.com
I remember my civics class lessons on Brown v Board of Education. It was the top psychological research of the day that helped to make the case that segregation was a moral evil. The research, then, proved the psychological harm caused by segregation. Unequivocally, then separate could never be equal. I hope those challenging anti-gay laws, such as Prop 8 can use this new research effectively to help convince the courts of the harm such laws and initiatives do to good people.
For a really good time this December 1st, read the comments.
Friday, November 28, 2008
four years to look forward to
So, I've mostly tolerated the rantings of the "conservatives" that I know - probably has lead to the depression and anxiety that has ripped my life apart. I have tried to engage in rational discussion, third party fact checking, and so on, but the "conservatives" that I know, even the mostly sane ones, are so caught up in the daily download of conservative pornography from the RNC (as has only recently been documented here and on other non-MSM sites.)
HOW could so many different people take umbrage on the SAME day with the SAME idea using the SAME phrases?
Well, because it's all scripted, that's how.
After becoming de-homed back at the end of September, I drove out to San Francisco and stayed with a friend from college for a month. Living in San Francisco was quite an experience in freedom. People on the peninsula just don't judge each other at ALL. One is taken for how one behaves, not how one looks, where one lives and so on.
The late election eve experience for a homosexual in San Francisco was a staggering change. We, no - I - was singled out by the electorate and told EVERYONE IN THIS STATE MATTERS EXCEPT YOU.
An atmosphere I'd been quietly tolerating back in Texas (from the Indian Tejas - friendly. Fat chance.) for twenty-seven years. I could feel in the "air" that we were singled out from the herd. Not accepted. Not allowed. Wrong.
And, I was ANGRY.
Okay, I've been angry since 1980 when Jimmy Carter lost to Ronald Reagan, but NOW I WAS REALLY ANGRY. I came back to Texas (drive friendly!) to get my life back together and get the FRACK out of here.
That's when I came to realize the depth of the racism and elitism here. It's not elitism like what Obama was accused of, or the elitism that is denegrated in the press. Not a lot of arugula here in Houston.
It's the elitism that allows a 33 year old who doesn't have a pot to piss in and can't hold a job for more than three months, has never paid his child support, doesn't pay his taxes and has no education past high school to lord it over the blacks, the Mexicans, the poor, anyone who isn't WHITE. That's the key thing that I think we kossacks and progressives are not fully understanding. Race is the bottom of all of this.
I stopped tolerating race baiting the day after the election.
A lady friend of mine took me to dinner and was snarling about the black churches improperly proselytizing which brought Obama the election.
This was not new. This was a "friend" who, in front of ALL of my friends at a birthday party told me she was still surprised, given how intelligent I am, that I'd be a liberal.
For the last ten years, I'd have pointed out politely that there aren't enough black people in the country to push an election, and there are only a handful of cities where the black population can carry the day in a vote.
This time, I said "this is utterly inappropriate and racist and I won't tolerate it. If you'd like, I'll take you home right now and we can skip the opera."
She didn't like it, but she shut up.
I read every day how we Kossacks and progressives are expecting the Demos to roll over and play dead for the Republicans shouting in their unified meme. I expect it too.
But, if we accept this - as I accepted my friend's overt racism for YEARS, who's at fault? WE have the majority?
Why should we not prosecute war crimes and offenses against our domestic laws?
Why should we not prosecute the illegal politicization of our civil departments and agencies?
Why should we not bring about the IMMEDIATE dissolution of the unregulated trading structures that provided a place for a handful of thousands of hyper-wealthy to trade up our fuel, food and financial prices?
When the Demos start to roll over, why don't we say to them "I won't tolerate this, it's inappropriate. Would you like me to take you home now, or would you like to go to the opera?"
Final note, one of my best friends from high school reconnected with me on Facebook a few months back. He and I hadn't talked in 30 years. He could, if he chose, sit over there behind his computer and look at pictures, and think whatever thoughts bring him pleasure.
I for my own part don't reach out and smack old friends around on Facebook or elsewhere. I do post articles, notes, and such on MY profile that I find interesting. Hey, it's MY Facebook page! He posts all kinds of nasty crap and I don't go over there to his sandbox to see what cat turds he's burying in the sand.
But, when I post something - I get the nearly immediate little red pop-up "***** **** has posted a comment on your item."
Just guess how many times it's flattering or polite? C'mon, just guess.
Okay, fine.
Tonight, I posted a couple of things. One, a thought about how it is people think they can get their laundry clean with crudded up machines. One, a link to Paul Krugman's article about how to get the economy started again. And, one a quote from Kos today on how a party committed to government being incompetent is incapable of running a competent government.
Over there, in his sandbox (if I were truly snarky I'd use the term litter box here, but..) he decides to post "Office of the President Elect" HaHaHa find that in the Constitution."
A.) I'm tired of the dog whistles.
B.) I'm sick of being part of the progressive roll over and play dead movement
C.) I was friends with him THIRTY TWO YEARS ago. Like I need someone giving me crap.
Here's the progression of what came next:
Now, you know he had some comeback, right?
I saw the little red flag and .. I didn't even want to go look. So, I didn't. I started this diary instead.
But, when I went back to Facebook to collect my quotes above, I saw his reply.
Him: "Whoa slap me down with a vengeance"
That's right, sucker.
Paraphrasing Sean Penn from "Milk"
On the Statue of Liberty, it says "Give me your poor, your hungry, your huddled masses yearning to be free." and in the Declaration of Independence, it says "All Men Are Created Equal." You can't rip that out of the Declaration of Independence and you can't take it off the base of the Statue of Liberty. That's what it is to be an American!
I say, ENOUGH. When they dog whistle, they must be called out. People are people. Everyone deserves a chance. No poor person brought our economy to its knees, and no person of color put us into Iraq, nor gave us a military budget equal to the gross national products of 3/4 of the world's nations. No illegal immigrant destroyed the watershed, or polluted the air, or outsourced all of our foundational employment to other, cheaper countries.
If the elected try to play roll over, I say - Let's take 'em straight home. We can find another date to the opera.
HOW could so many different people take umbrage on the SAME day with the SAME idea using the SAME phrases?
Well, because it's all scripted, that's how.
After becoming de-homed back at the end of September, I drove out to San Francisco and stayed with a friend from college for a month. Living in San Francisco was quite an experience in freedom. People on the peninsula just don't judge each other at ALL. One is taken for how one behaves, not how one looks, where one lives and so on.
The late election eve experience for a homosexual in San Francisco was a staggering change. We, no - I - was singled out by the electorate and told EVERYONE IN THIS STATE MATTERS EXCEPT YOU.
An atmosphere I'd been quietly tolerating back in Texas (from the Indian Tejas - friendly. Fat chance.) for twenty-seven years. I could feel in the "air" that we were singled out from the herd. Not accepted. Not allowed. Wrong.
And, I was ANGRY.
Okay, I've been angry since 1980 when Jimmy Carter lost to Ronald Reagan, but NOW I WAS REALLY ANGRY. I came back to Texas (drive friendly!) to get my life back together and get the FRACK out of here.
That's when I came to realize the depth of the racism and elitism here. It's not elitism like what Obama was accused of, or the elitism that is denegrated in the press. Not a lot of arugula here in Houston.
It's the elitism that allows a 33 year old who doesn't have a pot to piss in and can't hold a job for more than three months, has never paid his child support, doesn't pay his taxes and has no education past high school to lord it over the blacks, the Mexicans, the poor, anyone who isn't WHITE. That's the key thing that I think we kossacks and progressives are not fully understanding. Race is the bottom of all of this.
I stopped tolerating race baiting the day after the election.
A lady friend of mine took me to dinner and was snarling about the black churches improperly proselytizing which brought Obama the election.
This was not new. This was a "friend" who, in front of ALL of my friends at a birthday party told me she was still surprised, given how intelligent I am, that I'd be a liberal.
For the last ten years, I'd have pointed out politely that there aren't enough black people in the country to push an election, and there are only a handful of cities where the black population can carry the day in a vote.
This time, I said "this is utterly inappropriate and racist and I won't tolerate it. If you'd like, I'll take you home right now and we can skip the opera."
She didn't like it, but she shut up.
I read every day how we Kossacks and progressives are expecting the Demos to roll over and play dead for the Republicans shouting in their unified meme. I expect it too.
But, if we accept this - as I accepted my friend's overt racism for YEARS, who's at fault? WE have the majority?
Why should we not prosecute war crimes and offenses against our domestic laws?
Why should we not prosecute the illegal politicization of our civil departments and agencies?
Why should we not bring about the IMMEDIATE dissolution of the unregulated trading structures that provided a place for a handful of thousands of hyper-wealthy to trade up our fuel, food and financial prices?
When the Demos start to roll over, why don't we say to them "I won't tolerate this, it's inappropriate. Would you like me to take you home now, or would you like to go to the opera?"
Final note, one of my best friends from high school reconnected with me on Facebook a few months back. He and I hadn't talked in 30 years. He could, if he chose, sit over there behind his computer and look at pictures, and think whatever thoughts bring him pleasure.
I for my own part don't reach out and smack old friends around on Facebook or elsewhere. I do post articles, notes, and such on MY profile that I find interesting. Hey, it's MY Facebook page! He posts all kinds of nasty crap and I don't go over there to his sandbox to see what cat turds he's burying in the sand.
But, when I post something - I get the nearly immediate little red pop-up "***** **** has posted a comment on your item."
Just guess how many times it's flattering or polite? C'mon, just guess.
Okay, fine.
Tonight, I posted a couple of things. One, a thought about how it is people think they can get their laundry clean with crudded up machines. One, a link to Paul Krugman's article about how to get the economy started again. And, one a quote from Kos today on how a party committed to government being incompetent is incapable of running a competent government.
Over there, in his sandbox (if I were truly snarky I'd use the term litter box here, but..) he decides to post "Office of the President Elect" HaHaHa find that in the Constitution."
A.) I'm tired of the dog whistles.
B.) I'm sick of being part of the progressive roll over and play dead movement
C.) I was friends with him THIRTY TWO YEARS ago. Like I need someone giving me crap.
Here's the progression of what came next:
Me: "Uh, you don't get to talk about anything not being in the Constitution, since Richard and George just made up eight years of shyte that wasn't EVER in the constitution. Sit back and take your medicine."
Him: "Others misdeeds are no excuse for your own"
Me: "I didn't create the title that you now object to. And, truly, after all of the shredding of the Constitution, international law, domestic law and just plain common sense that has been supported by .. um .. well, people I know, I just am not listening to any superficial complaining about someone adopting an "uppity" title for their office. Hey, ... guess what? He IS the president elect. And, he has an OFFICE! It's an office where he's conducting the business of being the president elect! There are even structures in place from prior to his being born to PAY FOR IT.
If you have a complaint, at least make it a good one. Repeating today's RNC talking points that were broadcast by Fox and the AM dial isn't information, nor is it discernment.
Oh, and hey - congrats on spreading today's latest slice on the racial dog whistle. Obama's an uppity nigra."
Now, you know he had some comeback, right?
I saw the little red flag and .. I didn't even want to go look. So, I didn't. I started this diary instead.
But, when I went back to Facebook to collect my quotes above, I saw his reply.
Him: "Whoa slap me down with a vengeance"
That's right, sucker.
Paraphrasing Sean Penn from "Milk"
On the Statue of Liberty, it says "Give me your poor, your hungry, your huddled masses yearning to be free." and in the Declaration of Independence, it says "All Men Are Created Equal." You can't rip that out of the Declaration of Independence and you can't take it off the base of the Statue of Liberty. That's what it is to be an American!
I say, ENOUGH. When they dog whistle, they must be called out. People are people. Everyone deserves a chance. No poor person brought our economy to its knees, and no person of color put us into Iraq, nor gave us a military budget equal to the gross national products of 3/4 of the world's nations. No illegal immigrant destroyed the watershed, or polluted the air, or outsourced all of our foundational employment to other, cheaper countries.
If the elected try to play roll over, I say - Let's take 'em straight home. We can find another date to the opera.
Thursday, November 27, 2008
A milestone achieved
I don't post much on Daily Kos. I read it relentlessly - "it" being a collection of individual thoughts and posts, opinions with some facts thrown in. I've been a member for a couple of years, first so that I could post comments. I don't do that very often. I've posted only a few times. Had a few comments.
This morning, I read a recommended article from the LA Times about a guy who used to be a writer for the Wall Street Journal, and has been now homeless for three years. He lives in the back of his Toyota pick up. I wrote a post in response to that, and plunked it down.
Daily Kos gets tens of thousands of posts each day - called "Diaries." They are unedited. If someone violates the site's TOS (that's internetic for "Terms of Service) they get deleted and blocked, but people can say pretty much what they want as long as they're not suggesting violence toward someone.
I don't read all of these diaries.
Editors, who are I believe volunteers, review the tens of thousands of diaries, and advance them for everyone to see on the front page. In addition, a handful of regular diarists post straight to the front page all day. Each night, some ten to fifteen diaries are recommended for everyone to read. This feature is called "Open Thread and Diary Rescue." Some of these diaries are just emotional stories, some are well researched tomes, some are ill researched rants.
My diary today was recommended for everyone to read. I'm both honored and embarrassed.
This morning, I read a recommended article from the LA Times about a guy who used to be a writer for the Wall Street Journal, and has been now homeless for three years. He lives in the back of his Toyota pick up. I wrote a post in response to that, and plunked it down.
Daily Kos gets tens of thousands of posts each day - called "Diaries." They are unedited. If someone violates the site's TOS (that's internetic for "Terms of Service) they get deleted and blocked, but people can say pretty much what they want as long as they're not suggesting violence toward someone.
I don't read all of these diaries.
Editors, who are I believe volunteers, review the tens of thousands of diaries, and advance them for everyone to see on the front page. In addition, a handful of regular diarists post straight to the front page all day. Each night, some ten to fifteen diaries are recommended for everyone to read. This feature is called "Open Thread and Diary Rescue." Some of these diaries are just emotional stories, some are well researched tomes, some are ill researched rants.
My diary today was recommended for everyone to read. I'm both honored and embarrassed.
Warm, Dry, Full
Cross posted from Daily Kos
Homelessness takes many, many shapes - and most homeless are not living under a bridge, but are living on a friend's sofa, or in a den or guest room.
Les Gapay writes of having lived from the back of his pickup in today's Pundit wrapup. Even that homelessness is mostly invisible, because he's not out begging for coins and sleeping in a doorway.
Homelessness means that you cannot any longer provide a home for yourself and your family. Being warm and dry and fed doesn't equate to being "homed." Having a home of your own gives you the ability to say how things will go, how clean it will be kept, how it will be managed, when it will be quiet and who will be coming over.
Homeless means that you're dependent on someone else's expectations, upon someone else's schedule and way of doing things. If you can't adjust ALL of your psyche to meet them all the way on their side of the equation, you are about to be homeless without the warm/dry/fed part.
Homeless also carries with it an internal stigma. That you couldn't keep it up - you couldn't carry the day and manage it. That you may never be able to do it again.
Homelessness also means forcible separation from one's "stuff." Mine, for instance, is in two different places, 40 miles apart. Not only do I not have any place for it to go, elements of it have been planing away for months - things that once meant a great deal to me are too difficult to keep moving or are broken or just taken. My surround sound system now lives elsewhere forever. My furniture is scattering quickly as friends mention they've always liked this piece or that piece and could they have it? Buy it?
Never does it bring a fraction of what it would cost to replace. My future home, if there should be one, could now be contained in a one bedroom apartment, maybe even a studio. Even knowing that, there is no sense of accomplishment, only an effort to battle a sense of loss.
The only relief homelessness provides is freedom from the crushing slavery to paying housing, utilities, cleaning products, everything that you once did to make and keep your place as your own. My very high paying consulting career ended weeks after 9/11, but the hand writing was on the wall when the incoming Bush administration simply canceled all of the social/education/community development funds that our division was working with. Since then, I've been trying to find a place for myself, and maintaining a space for myself has been a pitched battle each month. Finally, when Hurricane Ike made its appearance, my entire weakened self-employment network came to an end. Twelve days later, I was living on the good wishes of good friends, and wondering when, if ever, I would be "homed" again.It's so very easy for one to think of someone like me, talented, enormous skills, and think "well, you're choosing to do this." At some metaphysical level, that's probably true.
However, when your day is consumed with trying to keep your household going, or trying to figure out where you can put everything when you cannot keep it going, and then trying to help out the people with whom you're staying by doing their house cleaning and chores - there is little time left for actual work. Bouncing around from friend's sofa to friend's sofa leaves little time for planning and execution of your recovery - you barely get your shaving tackle situated and it's time to move on to the next friendly place for a few days. Everyone in your life wants to hear from you "how did this happen? What are you going to do next?" Hours each day of concern - hours that eat up whatever time you do have to make something for yourself.
Hours of concern that can only be interpreted by you as an expression of dismay and disappointment that you didn't work hard enough or make better decisions. Concern that you just don't want to hear anymore, because none of it is helpful or new.
There are no resources for homeless people, if you have a little income and a car of your own. If I were HIV + or if I were a battered woman, there would be assistance. Our society sees fit to help no one; those who worship Ann's Rant "Atlas Shrugged" have done their best to eliminate any social net that they can adequately vilify through daily talking points.So, no bridge for me. No back seat of my car - yet. I'm luckier than most. But, I'm as homeless as the guy who just asked you for a little change on the sidewalk. I'm glad and thankful that I have what I do still have, though.
But, don't be surprised or call me unpatriotic when I say I'm not too proud of this Country of ours just now. That opinion has been a long time coming, and there is only a glimmer of hope for the future.
Homelessness takes many, many shapes - and most homeless are not living under a bridge, but are living on a friend's sofa, or in a den or guest room.
Les Gapay writes of having lived from the back of his pickup in today's Pundit wrapup. Even that homelessness is mostly invisible, because he's not out begging for coins and sleeping in a doorway.
Homelessness means that you cannot any longer provide a home for yourself and your family. Being warm and dry and fed doesn't equate to being "homed." Having a home of your own gives you the ability to say how things will go, how clean it will be kept, how it will be managed, when it will be quiet and who will be coming over.
Homeless means that you're dependent on someone else's expectations, upon someone else's schedule and way of doing things. If you can't adjust ALL of your psyche to meet them all the way on their side of the equation, you are about to be homeless without the warm/dry/fed part.
Homeless also carries with it an internal stigma. That you couldn't keep it up - you couldn't carry the day and manage it. That you may never be able to do it again.
Homelessness also means forcible separation from one's "stuff." Mine, for instance, is in two different places, 40 miles apart. Not only do I not have any place for it to go, elements of it have been planing away for months - things that once meant a great deal to me are too difficult to keep moving or are broken or just taken. My surround sound system now lives elsewhere forever. My furniture is scattering quickly as friends mention they've always liked this piece or that piece and could they have it? Buy it?
Never does it bring a fraction of what it would cost to replace. My future home, if there should be one, could now be contained in a one bedroom apartment, maybe even a studio. Even knowing that, there is no sense of accomplishment, only an effort to battle a sense of loss.
The only relief homelessness provides is freedom from the crushing slavery to paying housing, utilities, cleaning products, everything that you once did to make and keep your place as your own. My very high paying consulting career ended weeks after 9/11, but the hand writing was on the wall when the incoming Bush administration simply canceled all of the social/education/community development funds that our division was working with. Since then, I've been trying to find a place for myself, and maintaining a space for myself has been a pitched battle each month. Finally, when Hurricane Ike made its appearance, my entire weakened self-employment network came to an end. Twelve days later, I was living on the good wishes of good friends, and wondering when, if ever, I would be "homed" again.It's so very easy for one to think of someone like me, talented, enormous skills, and think "well, you're choosing to do this." At some metaphysical level, that's probably true.
However, when your day is consumed with trying to keep your household going, or trying to figure out where you can put everything when you cannot keep it going, and then trying to help out the people with whom you're staying by doing their house cleaning and chores - there is little time left for actual work. Bouncing around from friend's sofa to friend's sofa leaves little time for planning and execution of your recovery - you barely get your shaving tackle situated and it's time to move on to the next friendly place for a few days. Everyone in your life wants to hear from you "how did this happen? What are you going to do next?" Hours each day of concern - hours that eat up whatever time you do have to make something for yourself.
Hours of concern that can only be interpreted by you as an expression of dismay and disappointment that you didn't work hard enough or make better decisions. Concern that you just don't want to hear anymore, because none of it is helpful or new.
There are no resources for homeless people, if you have a little income and a car of your own. If I were HIV + or if I were a battered woman, there would be assistance. Our society sees fit to help no one; those who worship Ann's Rant "Atlas Shrugged" have done their best to eliminate any social net that they can adequately vilify through daily talking points.So, no bridge for me. No back seat of my car - yet. I'm luckier than most. But, I'm as homeless as the guy who just asked you for a little change on the sidewalk. I'm glad and thankful that I have what I do still have, though.
But, don't be surprised or call me unpatriotic when I say I'm not too proud of this Country of ours just now. That opinion has been a long time coming, and there is only a glimmer of hope for the future.
Tuesday, November 11, 2008
Tuesday thoughts
Happy Veterans' Day!! My favorite vets get a special "WAHOO" for their service.
Several things for today that are fun and interesting.
First, holy crap, Batman - GM may be filing for bankruptcy .. talk about having a lump of coal in your stocking. It seems that there are no more debtor in possession loans available, which means that a Chapter 11 reorganization is beyond unlikely. Bloomberg today has an article that suggests things are dire - while JP Morgan says GM is a likely survivor, and rates their debt as a "buy."
Why should you care? Because, GM is a huge contributor to our nation's economy, and the consequences of a GM shut down would be dire. GM directly and indirectly employs more than 300,000 people - exclusive of the retail distribution and repair channels.
In most states, GM accounts for about 15% of sales tax revenues and about 9% of employment.
Just so you know.
What would happen to your state if 15% of the sales tax just vaporized? Or to your city of 9% of the employed were out of work?
This is not to say that I think GM needs to be preserved in its current form. The consequences of auto industry management decisions can be seen, though, in the collapse of Detroit. Detroit was one of the most glorious cities in the country; check out this picture from the New York Times reflecting downtown Detroit in the 1920s versus today via the website Forgotten Detroit. This picture shows nearly the identical spot on Washington Blvd.
Here is a neat discussion of the three scenarios possible for the US auto industry.
This is all analogous to the experience Houston had during the early 1980s when the price of oil collapsed and huge elements of the population were unemployed. It took the Houston area nearly a decade to return to economic health, but recall what's been happening to the price of oil these last eight years. Lots of economic stimulus for the center of the oil production universe.
There will be no such stimulus for former auto towns.
Detroit is much like New Orleans, post-Katrina. What was a thriving business center has now become an empty core that spreads outward - the lack of jobs causes and exacerbates a lack of housing and services that spiral on in an endless negative loop. You can try to build new jobs, but without housing, there will be no employees. You can try to build new housing, but without gas stations, groceries and schools, there will be no occupants. You can try to attract new occupants, but without them, there will be no jobs, no gas stations, no groceries and no schools.
Only massive government spending will begin to reverse the cycle.
Now, let's move on to more amusing things - there are a fair number of people who suggest that the Holocaust was a fantasy - just a public relations tale to promote Zionism. Seems that those folks were wrong - 28 pages of blueprints have been found in a Berlin apartment that pre-date the construction of the Auschwitz death camp, and include details plans for the crematory, gas chambers and body storage. While it's possible that these plans are a fake (as was Hitler's diary,) they seem to be quite genuine. The German archives are studying the documents, and we'll know more soon enough.
What are you doing on Saturday? Care to join the protest for human rights?
Check out jointheimpact.com and see where the nearest rally is being held. In Houston, it's being held at City Hall at noon. Invite your friends. All of them.
Where I've been hanging out, there is a great affection for "The View." The ladies (and I use that term loosely in a few cases) have been talking a great deal about Prop 8 and its pros and cons.
Elisabeth, whose bio suggests is unafraid to express her candid and conservative views, is one of the most ill-informed liars with a public platform who's not committed to the Fox networks. She's Sarah Palin with a better vocabulary, but a less soothing voice.
Elisabeth, get a few facts straight once in a while. Stop making crap up. Please. Just a suggestion. Or don't, because your "candid and conservative views" are without value when you keep inventing "facts" to support your bigoted theories. Makes it easier to swallow when one is clear that you're a lying idiot.
Whoopi is working to inject a fact or six into the discussion of Prop 8, to the great dismay of Elisabeth and Sherri (Sherri - a suggestion for you - take a bible study course. Actually study it. Then, start using it as a foundation again, AFTER you know what it says).
You know what? It's actually better for the non-bible thumping crowd to watch you parrot bigotry supported with non-specific bible citations than to actually have to expend the intellect to discuss a well sourced bible scholar. So, Sherri, you just keep on, gurl.
So, now when I'm watching the "View," I'll just sit in amused self-righteousness that the homobigots and neocons must resort to lies and making crap up to support their unsupportable venom.
One of the best explanations for why it's a wrong-headed idea to vote against rights for humans was given by Keith Olbermann on his "Special Comment" last night. Go have a read, or go to MSNBC.com and watch it.
Several things for today that are fun and interesting.
First, holy crap, Batman - GM may be filing for bankruptcy .. talk about having a lump of coal in your stocking. It seems that there are no more debtor in possession loans available, which means that a Chapter 11 reorganization is beyond unlikely. Bloomberg today has an article that suggests things are dire - while JP Morgan says GM is a likely survivor, and rates their debt as a "buy."
Why should you care? Because, GM is a huge contributor to our nation's economy, and the consequences of a GM shut down would be dire. GM directly and indirectly employs more than 300,000 people - exclusive of the retail distribution and repair channels.
In most states, GM accounts for about 15% of sales tax revenues and about 9% of employment.
Just so you know.
What would happen to your state if 15% of the sales tax just vaporized? Or to your city of 9% of the employed were out of work?
This is not to say that I think GM needs to be preserved in its current form. The consequences of auto industry management decisions can be seen, though, in the collapse of Detroit. Detroit was one of the most glorious cities in the country; check out this picture from the New York Times reflecting downtown Detroit in the 1920s versus today via the website Forgotten Detroit. This picture shows nearly the identical spot on Washington Blvd.
Here is a neat discussion of the three scenarios possible for the US auto industry.
This is all analogous to the experience Houston had during the early 1980s when the price of oil collapsed and huge elements of the population were unemployed. It took the Houston area nearly a decade to return to economic health, but recall what's been happening to the price of oil these last eight years. Lots of economic stimulus for the center of the oil production universe.
There will be no such stimulus for former auto towns.
Detroit is much like New Orleans, post-Katrina. What was a thriving business center has now become an empty core that spreads outward - the lack of jobs causes and exacerbates a lack of housing and services that spiral on in an endless negative loop. You can try to build new jobs, but without housing, there will be no employees. You can try to build new housing, but without gas stations, groceries and schools, there will be no occupants. You can try to attract new occupants, but without them, there will be no jobs, no gas stations, no groceries and no schools.
Only massive government spending will begin to reverse the cycle.
Now, let's move on to more amusing things - there are a fair number of people who suggest that the Holocaust was a fantasy - just a public relations tale to promote Zionism. Seems that those folks were wrong - 28 pages of blueprints have been found in a Berlin apartment that pre-date the construction of the Auschwitz death camp, and include details plans for the crematory, gas chambers and body storage. While it's possible that these plans are a fake (as was Hitler's diary,) they seem to be quite genuine. The German archives are studying the documents, and we'll know more soon enough.
What are you doing on Saturday? Care to join the protest for human rights?
Check out jointheimpact.com and see where the nearest rally is being held. In Houston, it's being held at City Hall at noon. Invite your friends. All of them.
Where I've been hanging out, there is a great affection for "The View." The ladies (and I use that term loosely in a few cases) have been talking a great deal about Prop 8 and its pros and cons.
Elisabeth, whose bio suggests is unafraid to express her candid and conservative views, is one of the most ill-informed liars with a public platform who's not committed to the Fox networks. She's Sarah Palin with a better vocabulary, but a less soothing voice.
Elisabeth, get a few facts straight once in a while. Stop making crap up. Please. Just a suggestion. Or don't, because your "candid and conservative views" are without value when you keep inventing "facts" to support your bigoted theories. Makes it easier to swallow when one is clear that you're a lying idiot.
Whoopi is working to inject a fact or six into the discussion of Prop 8, to the great dismay of Elisabeth and Sherri (Sherri - a suggestion for you - take a bible study course. Actually study it. Then, start using it as a foundation again, AFTER you know what it says).
You know what? It's actually better for the non-bible thumping crowd to watch you parrot bigotry supported with non-specific bible citations than to actually have to expend the intellect to discuss a well sourced bible scholar. So, Sherri, you just keep on, gurl.
So, now when I'm watching the "View," I'll just sit in amused self-righteousness that the homobigots and neocons must resort to lies and making crap up to support their unsupportable venom.
One of the best explanations for why it's a wrong-headed idea to vote against rights for humans was given by Keith Olbermann on his "Special Comment" last night. Go have a read, or go to MSNBC.com and watch it.
Friday, November 07, 2008
Observations from the road
As I was careening through West Texas last night, I kept thinking "these headlights are much like running as fast as possible in a thick forest while carrying a penlight."
Then, the traffic cleared up and I flipped on the brights.
I could see next week they were so bright.
Then, the traffic cleared up and I flipped on the brights.
I could see next week they were so bright.
Tuesday, November 04, 2008
Election day, 2008
Seventy-seven days from the Inaugural ball(s). I need a new tuxedo - and a decent tuxedo shirt (or two.) I have the shoes. (big grin) Do I EVER have the shoes!
There's an excitement in the air.
It's not just me. People outside the living room window here are excited. Excited that today is the last day of being ruled by grumpy, old, white men whose lives were defined by the threat of Hitler and Communism. Men who believed that their prejudices should prevail over a woman's body, a person's right to love who they wish, who can own property, who can vote, who can aspire to public service, and which shifting moral code should be imposed on the population.
Today is the last day of this country being the playground bully that no one is able to stand up to.
Today is the last day. That's what we're voting for.
From today's Christian Science Monitor:
There's an excitement in the air.
It's not just me. People outside the living room window here are excited. Excited that today is the last day of being ruled by grumpy, old, white men whose lives were defined by the threat of Hitler and Communism. Men who believed that their prejudices should prevail over a woman's body, a person's right to love who they wish, who can own property, who can vote, who can aspire to public service, and which shifting moral code should be imposed on the population.
Today is the last day of this country being the playground bully that no one is able to stand up to.
Today is the last day. That's what we're voting for.
From today's Christian Science Monitor:
My wife made me canvass for Obama; here's what I learned
This election is not about major policies. It's about hope.
By Jonathan Curley
from the November 3, 2008 edition
Charlotte, N.C. - There has been a lot of speculation that Barack Obama might win the election due to his better "ground game" and superior campaign organization.
I had the chance to view that organization up close this month when I canvassed for him. I'm not sure I learned much about his chances, but I learned a lot about myself and about this election.
Let me make it clear: I'm pretty conservative. I grew up in the suburbs. I voted for George H.W. Bush twice, and his son once. I was disappointed when Bill Clinton won, and disappointed he couldn't run again.
I encouraged my son to join the military. I was proud of him in Afghanistan, and happy when he came home, and angry when he was recalled because of the invasion of Iraq. I'm white, 55, I live in the South and I'm definitely going to get a bigger tax bill if Obama wins.
I am the dreaded swing voter.
So you can imagine my surprise when my wife suggested we spend a Saturday morning canvassing for Obama. I have never canvassed for any candidate. But I did, of course, what most middle-aged married men do: what I was told.
At the Obama headquarters, we stood in a group to receive our instructions. I wasn't the oldest, but close, and the youngest was maybe in high school. I watched a campaign organizer match up a young black man who looked to be college age with a white guy about my age to canvas together. It should not have been a big thing, but the beauty of the image did not escape me.
Instead of walking the tree-lined streets near our home, my wife and I were instructed to canvass a housing project. A middle-aged white couple with clipboards could not look more out of place in this predominantly black neighborhood.
We knocked on doors and voices from behind carefully locked doors shouted, "Who is it?"
"We're from the Obama campaign," we'd answer. And just like that doors opened and folks with wide smiles came out on the porch to talk.
Grandmothers kept one hand on their grandchildren and made sure they had all the information they needed for their son or daughter to vote for the first time.
Young people came to the door rubbing sleep from their eyes to find out where they could vote early, to make sure their vote got counted.
We knocked on every door we could find and checked off every name on our list. We did our job, but Obama may not have been the one who got the most out of the day's work.
I learned in just those three hours that this election is not about what we think of as the "big things."
It's not about taxes. I'm pretty sure mine are going to go up no matter who is elected.
It's not about foreign policy. I think we'll figure out a way to get out of Iraq and Afghanistan no matter which party controls the White House, mostly because the people who live there don't want us there anymore.
I don't see either of the candidates as having all the answers.
I've learned that this election is about the heart of America. It's about the young people who are losing hope and the old people who have been forgotten. It's about those who have worked all their lives and never fully realized the promise of America, but see that promise for their grandchildren in Barack Obama. The poor see a chance, when they often have few. I saw hope in the eyes and faces in those doorways.
My wife and I went out last weekend to knock on more doors. But this time, not because it was her idea. I don't know what it's going to do for the Obama campaign, but it's doing a lot for me.
Jonathan Curley is a banker. He voted for George H.W. Bush twice and George W. Bush once.
Monday, November 03, 2008
Grumpiness
And, no, I'm not talking about John McCain. Enough of that.
Several things -
When people are speaking on a wireless phone (cell or at home) and the call quality is poor, they consistently say "you broke up" or "you're breaking up."
Um, are you sure? If I heard you just fine and you couldn't hear me, who was it exactly that was "breaking up?" The way the common statement is phrased is a matter of blame; saying "our call broke up" or "our call quality is poor, and I couldn't hear you" is actually more accurate and without finding fault.
Next thing -
Why is it that people who haven't ever had a pot to piss in, or whose economic lives have been roiled and forever changed to the worse from the last eight years are so convinced that Obama is going to destroy their futures?
Is it perhaps .. race? Bigotry?
I think so.
Either that, or they're people who believe that McDonald's has a "healthy" menu.
Several things -
When people are speaking on a wireless phone (cell or at home) and the call quality is poor, they consistently say "you broke up" or "you're breaking up."
Um, are you sure? If I heard you just fine and you couldn't hear me, who was it exactly that was "breaking up?" The way the common statement is phrased is a matter of blame; saying "our call broke up" or "our call quality is poor, and I couldn't hear you" is actually more accurate and without finding fault.
Next thing -
Why is it that people who haven't ever had a pot to piss in, or whose economic lives have been roiled and forever changed to the worse from the last eight years are so convinced that Obama is going to destroy their futures?
Is it perhaps .. race? Bigotry?
I think so.
Either that, or they're people who believe that McDonald's has a "healthy" menu.
Saturday, November 01, 2008
Rainy rainy days
The first of November. It's raining steadily, overcast and fragrant here. I slept until nearly eleven this morning.
We "did" Halloween; my friend with whom I'm staying went as Supergirl - he looked great, and his friend was dressed as Marie Antoinette with this ENORMOUS Marge Simpson wig - he was over 7' tall in the 5" heels, the wig and everything. I wore my traditional red fairy costume. When I went to put it on, I didn't have to struggle to get into it - the tights and leotard just wooshed right on, and the costume hung on my like a flour sack. Last few years, I could hardly get the tights up to my hips. Last few years, I couldn't zip the leotard. It was very cool to have that kind of validation that I'd lost weight.
We went first down to the Castro, and wandered around a bit - into the Walgreens to get Marie a new set of press-on nails (they were completely out) - we kept getting stopped every few feet to have our pictures taken by tourists and people who weren't in costume. Several times, there were so many cameras going off that I felt a bit like David Beckham coming into LAX. We went into a bar, but it was so crowded in there that it was uncomfortable (my wings kept getting into people's way, and they'd just shove the wings aside) so we went to a private party in the Castro for a while, then up to Haight Ashbury to the big party of the evening.
Parking was a nightmare in the Haight; we ended up parking blocks and blocks away (and still getting a ticket) but the party was awesome. The costumes very impressive and creative, and the food was glorious! I kept getting chatted up by people who LOVED my fairy costume (which I'll have to have taken in next year, I think - it just was so .. baggy!) The hosts have no back yard to speak of, so the smokers and people who wanted some air spilled out onto the sidewalk, where we got to interact with the folks walking down the hill to the straight bars. Some of their costumes were very cute; the straight girls' favorite this year was Sarah Palin. One girl was dressed quite passably as Glinda the good witch of the North, and did a perfect spin and then sat down with her dress perfectly laid out around her.
By midnight, we were all tired, so we came home. I left my costume in the trunk of the car, so today when the rain dies down a bit, I must go put it all back together.
We "did" Halloween; my friend with whom I'm staying went as Supergirl - he looked great, and his friend was dressed as Marie Antoinette with this ENORMOUS Marge Simpson wig - he was over 7' tall in the 5" heels, the wig and everything. I wore my traditional red fairy costume. When I went to put it on, I didn't have to struggle to get into it - the tights and leotard just wooshed right on, and the costume hung on my like a flour sack. Last few years, I could hardly get the tights up to my hips. Last few years, I couldn't zip the leotard. It was very cool to have that kind of validation that I'd lost weight.
We went first down to the Castro, and wandered around a bit - into the Walgreens to get Marie a new set of press-on nails (they were completely out) - we kept getting stopped every few feet to have our pictures taken by tourists and people who weren't in costume. Several times, there were so many cameras going off that I felt a bit like David Beckham coming into LAX. We went into a bar, but it was so crowded in there that it was uncomfortable (my wings kept getting into people's way, and they'd just shove the wings aside) so we went to a private party in the Castro for a while, then up to Haight Ashbury to the big party of the evening.
Parking was a nightmare in the Haight; we ended up parking blocks and blocks away (and still getting a ticket) but the party was awesome. The costumes very impressive and creative, and the food was glorious! I kept getting chatted up by people who LOVED my fairy costume (which I'll have to have taken in next year, I think - it just was so .. baggy!) The hosts have no back yard to speak of, so the smokers and people who wanted some air spilled out onto the sidewalk, where we got to interact with the folks walking down the hill to the straight bars. Some of their costumes were very cute; the straight girls' favorite this year was Sarah Palin. One girl was dressed quite passably as Glinda the good witch of the North, and did a perfect spin and then sat down with her dress perfectly laid out around her.
By midnight, we were all tired, so we came home. I left my costume in the trunk of the car, so today when the rain dies down a bit, I must go put it all back together.
Wednesday, October 29, 2008
Why is it
I'm just amazed that people who have a different viewpoint (um, pretty much the wide-eyed, Ayn Rand, conservative "taxes are bad, regulation is bad, government is inept" crowd) have to levy judgment that one's intellect is flawed rather than just acknowledging that there are different ways to look at the world.
I've been called unintelligent by a person I consider a close friend at one of my birthday parties because I don't subscribe to supply side economics (or, trickle down economics which even G.H.W. Bush didn't believe in) or welfare mothers in Cadillacs. Today, I was inherently called stupid by the sister of another friend for engaging in a conversation on facebook about Ayn Rand's "Atlas Shrugged."
When someone advances these concepts, I must admit that I question why they're looking at the world that way. In the case of my insult hurling birthday party friend, she's still focused on how she always felt she had to work for things in her life and her sister got all the breaks without deserving it. It colors all of her opinions about people whose lives don't work but get assistance from the government or parental figures. Her belief in welfare mothers in Cadillacs stems from her anger with her father and her sister and from no empirical data or anecdote.
I don't know today why my friend's sister felt it was necessary to tell me I wasn't smart enough to understand "Atlas Shrugged." I understood it just fine; I just don't agree that it's a valid economic and societal blueprint. In fact, given that our society and government have been operated from this blueprint for the last eight plus years (I'd say more like 28 years) and it's a spectacular failure would put the bullet in the argument, but it seems to be ramping up again even as its spawn melts down.
So, what is it about persons of more conservative political and social views (wasn't it nice of me not to call them little Hitlers, fascists, bigots, haters, fear mongers, oppressive and superior white bastards or any number of other labels I could have used?) find people who disagree to be intellectually flawed?
How is it that these same people will ask my flawed intellect for instruction on how to deal with tax issues, or to recall historical facts, or to provide relationship advice, or to provide a shoulder to cry on? If my intellect was that flawed, then why should it follow that ANY of my mental qualities were reliable?
I've been called unintelligent by a person I consider a close friend at one of my birthday parties because I don't subscribe to supply side economics (or, trickle down economics which even G.H.W. Bush didn't believe in) or welfare mothers in Cadillacs. Today, I was inherently called stupid by the sister of another friend for engaging in a conversation on facebook about Ayn Rand's "Atlas Shrugged."
When someone advances these concepts, I must admit that I question why they're looking at the world that way. In the case of my insult hurling birthday party friend, she's still focused on how she always felt she had to work for things in her life and her sister got all the breaks without deserving it. It colors all of her opinions about people whose lives don't work but get assistance from the government or parental figures. Her belief in welfare mothers in Cadillacs stems from her anger with her father and her sister and from no empirical data or anecdote.
I don't know today why my friend's sister felt it was necessary to tell me I wasn't smart enough to understand "Atlas Shrugged." I understood it just fine; I just don't agree that it's a valid economic and societal blueprint. In fact, given that our society and government have been operated from this blueprint for the last eight plus years (I'd say more like 28 years) and it's a spectacular failure would put the bullet in the argument, but it seems to be ramping up again even as its spawn melts down.
So, what is it about persons of more conservative political and social views (wasn't it nice of me not to call them little Hitlers, fascists, bigots, haters, fear mongers, oppressive and superior white bastards or any number of other labels I could have used?) find people who disagree to be intellectually flawed?
How is it that these same people will ask my flawed intellect for instruction on how to deal with tax issues, or to recall historical facts, or to provide relationship advice, or to provide a shoulder to cry on? If my intellect was that flawed, then why should it follow that ANY of my mental qualities were reliable?
Tuesday, October 28, 2008
Monday, October 27, 2008
Atlas shrugged, and the world should have
I managed to skate through college without strolling into the Waldo Library until the last week of my senior year. Thus, I managed to complete a very fine public school education and a mediocre (by my own making) college education without having come into contact with Ayn Rand's monumental "Atlas Shrugged." In fact, I successfully completed college without having heard of it. I read a great deal of other, weighty tomes. "The Brothers Karamazov," for instance.
A few years ago, a fellow I had met was raving on about how "Atlas Shrugged" was the most important book he'd ever read. How it was such a signal truth about society. Okay, so I was influenced by how how I thought the guy was, so I picked up a copy of the book and read it. All 1400+ pages of it. I read it right through to the end, and thought as I closed the back cover "What a piece of self-indulgent crap."
Many young men read this work, and figure that they point of Ayn's Rant is the government and economic structure of the United States. It's not. Ayn was a child of the Eastern Block (for those of you who remember,) and her work was a rant about centralized economic planning and monolithic bureaucracies of the Soviet Union.
A great number of people don't do their homework on this point. Including Allen Greenspan, who, as it turns out, was ministering to our nation's economic condition using the premises of Ayn's Rant - all regulation is bad, and true, unfettered capitalism will always self-correct.
Somehow that hasn't worked out so well for us. And, the unfettered capitalists have run to the protection of the State, while those oppressed workers become further downtrodden and further disenfranchised.
It's funny, but as I remember the book and the story, the wealthy (who toiled not, neither did they sow) were living off the largesse of the State.
That being the case, isn't it then true that Ayn's Rant, when applied to the real world, has brought about the very condition that Ayn ranted against?
A few years ago, a fellow I had met was raving on about how "Atlas Shrugged" was the most important book he'd ever read. How it was such a signal truth about society. Okay, so I was influenced by how how I thought the guy was, so I picked up a copy of the book and read it. All 1400+ pages of it. I read it right through to the end, and thought as I closed the back cover "What a piece of self-indulgent crap."
Many young men read this work, and figure that they point of Ayn's Rant is the government and economic structure of the United States. It's not. Ayn was a child of the Eastern Block (for those of you who remember,) and her work was a rant about centralized economic planning and monolithic bureaucracies of the Soviet Union.
A great number of people don't do their homework on this point. Including Allen Greenspan, who, as it turns out, was ministering to our nation's economic condition using the premises of Ayn's Rant - all regulation is bad, and true, unfettered capitalism will always self-correct.
Somehow that hasn't worked out so well for us. And, the unfettered capitalists have run to the protection of the State, while those oppressed workers become further downtrodden and further disenfranchised.
It's funny, but as I remember the book and the story, the wealthy (who toiled not, neither did they sow) were living off the largesse of the State.
That being the case, isn't it then true that Ayn's Rant, when applied to the real world, has brought about the very condition that Ayn ranted against?
Tuesday, October 21, 2008
Bush's achievements
Boris Johnson, the lavishly Tory Mayor of London ...
Snared from Andrew Sullivan's post on the Atlantic Monthly website
However well-intentioned it was, the catastrophic and unpopular intervention in Iraq has served in some parts of the world to discredit the very idea of western democracy.
The recent collapse of the banking system, and the humiliating resort to semi-socialist solutions, has done a great deal to discredit - in some people's eyes - the idea of free-market capitalism.
Democracy and capitalism are the two great pillars of the American idea.
To have rocked one of those pillars may be regarded as a misfortune.
To have damaged the reputation of both, at home and abroad, is a pretty stunning achievement for an American president.
Snared from Andrew Sullivan's post on the Atlantic Monthly website
Don't count your chickens...
Just remember, at this point in the 1980 election, Ronald Reagan was down by eight points in the polls. In the end, Jimmy Carter only carried six states including his own, and lost the popular vote by nearly 10 points.
Get out the vote!
Monday, October 20, 2008
Jackie the dog 1995 - 2008
The story of Jackie the dog starts back in 1982, when I had only been in Houston a few months. There was a dog wandering the neighborhood, a beautiful gold colored German Shepherd. We gave him a little nosh, and he started hanging around. My room mate, Brad, took to calling him "Pferd," German for "Horse," since he was pretty large. He always responded to that name, which seemed odd at the time.
We took him to the vet clinic in the neighborhood, and learned that he had belonged to someone that had moved away, and abandoned him. His name was "Fred," which explained his reaction to being called "Pferd."
Fred was an awesome, heroic, patient dog who lived until 1992. I had always thought it would be great to get a female silver point Shepherd and call her "Ethel," but holy smokes! Have you seen what the cost of a purebred dog is? Just before he passed, I was given the gift of another dog, a little black chow mix puppy that I named "Barney." Fred and Barney. Get it?
Barney lived up to his name, and was .. well, you can read in the archives about Barney.
Barney had been with me about three years when my friends Kurtis and David called one evening. They lived just up the street from me, and a friend of theirs had rescued a chow chow female that she couldn't keep. They thought about taking her in, but she didn't socialize with their female chow mix dog, and they thought of me.
I hopped into the car, drove the few blocks to their house and there, sitting off by herself, was a stunningly beautiful cinnamon pure bred chowchow. She was gorgeous.
She had been abandoned around the time she was fully grown, and had lived on the streets of Montrose for at least a year before this woman had caught her, taken her to the vet, had her fixed and "fixed," and groomed.
I've often questioned whether one can fall in love at first sight, and with people, I still wonder about that. I can tell you, though, that it is possible to fall in love at first sight, because it happened to me right there.
The woman who had rescued her called her "Annie" (little orphan annie) but I called her Jackie after Jacqueline Onassis. I figured she had had a rough life, but was regal, dignified and very, very beautiful, so naming her after the former First Lady was apropos.
Jackie came home to live with me right then. She and Barney got along just fine, although it was pretty clear that it was she who was in charge.
At first, she was so skittish about allowing someone to "control" her - she wouldn't let me put her leash on her. She so wanted to go outside with me and Barney, but she just couldn't bring herself that last few inches to let me clip the leash onto her collar. I thought making her stay behind while Barney and I went out on the leash would persuade her, but after several days, she would let me get just an eyelash from her collar and then she'd dart away.
My room mate, Billy (who's deserving of a chapter or two of his own) surprised me when I was out with Barney by coming around the other side of the block with Jackie on the leash. I asked him how the HECK he had gotten her to let him clip the leash on her, and he just looked at me like I was an alien. "Why, raw meat, you ninny."
I kept Jackie on the leash that evening, standing in the kitchen between Billy and me while we had company over. I stood on the lead to her collar so she couldn't go anywhere, and fed her scraps and petted her. She was never again relucant to let me handle her again.
Jackie was very grateful to be indoors, fed, loved and safe. Unlike Barney, who was a locust for any attention or calories, Jackie was patient, accomodating and adapting. One evening, I put in the movie "It's My Party," which I was then emotionally unprepared for. The movie made me reflect upon the dozens of friends that I'd lost to AIDS, and as the film reached its climax, I was sobbing. Jackie climbed into my lap and began licking my face. Barney, being the shit that he was, crawled into my lap as well, but he wanted the attention Jackie was getting - he wouldn't have cared if I was bleeding to death as long as he got all the food and attention.
When we moved into the apartment on Bagby, Jackie would frequently get on the bed at night and sleep near me. If I awoke during the night, I could feel the almost feather-light change in pressure as she jumped off of the bed.
Because of Barney's behavior, I started penning the two of them into the kitchen when I'd go away or sleep at night. Barney was always a piddler, who'd walk and squirt. Jackie would squat and do her business all at once, and I assumed I could differentiate between the two of them if there was an accident at home. Boy, was I wrong about that.
After a short transition period after I started restraining them in the kitchen, I'd arise nearly every morning and find a big puddle of urine in the kitchen. It was not the typical Barney walking squirt, so I assumed it was Jackie doing the dirty work. I took to "caging" her by tethering her to the laundry room door, limiting her movement to just a small area.
That worked for a short time, and then I'd arise and find Jackie, tethered to the door, standing in a lake of urine, soaking wet.
These were not good mornings for me. For her, either.
One morning, I awoke and heard the inimitable sound of urine splashing on a tile floor coming from the kitchen. Silently, I lept from my bed and dashed to the kitchen. I looked around the corner to where Jackie was tethered, and .. Barney had insinuated himself BETWEEN her and the laundry room door, and was urinating BEHIND her.
Our assumption that dogs and other creatures don't have the power to be calculating or make plans is flawed.
Jackie's life got much better after that.
In February 2007, Barney had a stroke. He was thirteen years old, and had gotten quite frail. After spending nearly ten years with him, Jackie wasn't in the least bit distressed by her constant companion lying there incapacitated. She seemed almost to communicate "ignore the black one, now it's MY turn!"
She was indeed pampered after Barney's passing. I only regret that her pampering and being attended to had to wait until Barney passed along; she had gotten old enough that we could only incrementally improve her life, not create a new one.
Jackie was a trooper in all respects - in April last, when we went with Robert and his two dogs to the ranch in Colorado, she only complained when the other dogs would plow into her in their unbridled enthusiasm in the back seat. She checked things out, and then napped for a week in the sun.
It's nearly impossible to see the physical decline in a creature you're with every day in close quarters. Jackie was having trouble going up and down stairs a year ago. She had trouble negotiating the rocks in Colorado, and she was having difficulty with the hills here in San Francisco.
Over the last two weeks, she had lost interest in eating, and was vomiting every day. Although she was clearly uncomfortable, her personality didn't change a bit. She was aloof except when she wanted attention, she was enthusiastic about going outside, and she hated getting wet.
We went back to the self-serve dog wash yesterday, and she wasn't too pleased about getting wet - again - but, she soldiered through. She couldn't walk up the steep hills, and I had to carry her.
Today, I took her to David's vet. For the first time, she couldn't get herself into the car and I had to lift her in. She sat, expectantly, on the floorboard, and nosed around with her normal detached enthusiasm in the new place. Even though visits to the vet usually cause her distress, she was peaceful and affectionate.
Initially, they couldn't find evidence of anything that would clearly explain her condition. She had arthritis far more severely than I had believed; her lower back and shoulders must have caused her great discomfort. Her stomach was distended, and they at first thought that they could treat her with a curative for her stomach lining and an appetite enhancer. The other vet did an ultrasound of her abdomen, and they found the large tumor in her stomach.
Chow chows have stomach cancer more than 20 times more often than other breeds, and when they become symptomatic, it's too late to do anything about it. Her blood values were all quite normal, so she wasn't feeling the effects of her illness, other than the stomach discomfort. There was only one decision to make, and they brought her out to say good-bye.
Jackie wasn't too much interested in being loved on right then, she was ready to move on to the next thing. She kept heading for the door, and the next place there was to go.
I've had a dog since Fred came wandering around in 1982. All three of my dogs were unwanted in their lives, discarded and thrown aside. Jackie was the most special of the three. She spent her whole life with me being grateful that I had taken her in.
Perhaps it's a sign that I'm now done with that part of my life that today was her day to exit this plane. She was the last real link to who I've always known myself to be. The rest is just dross - structures and detritus that needs to be cleared away, dealt with and disposed of.
I'm grateful to have had the time with her. I'll miss hearing her clacking around on the floor, miss her soft snore as she sleeps the day away, the happy look on her face when she gingerly chews her food, her reluctance to get her feet wet, and her nudging me with her snout, looking to get validation and love.
Godspeed, gentle soul.
We took him to the vet clinic in the neighborhood, and learned that he had belonged to someone that had moved away, and abandoned him. His name was "Fred," which explained his reaction to being called "Pferd."
Fred was an awesome, heroic, patient dog who lived until 1992. I had always thought it would be great to get a female silver point Shepherd and call her "Ethel," but holy smokes! Have you seen what the cost of a purebred dog is? Just before he passed, I was given the gift of another dog, a little black chow mix puppy that I named "Barney." Fred and Barney. Get it?
Barney lived up to his name, and was .. well, you can read in the archives about Barney.
Barney had been with me about three years when my friends Kurtis and David called one evening. They lived just up the street from me, and a friend of theirs had rescued a chow chow female that she couldn't keep. They thought about taking her in, but she didn't socialize with their female chow mix dog, and they thought of me.
I hopped into the car, drove the few blocks to their house and there, sitting off by herself, was a stunningly beautiful cinnamon pure bred chowchow. She was gorgeous.
She had been abandoned around the time she was fully grown, and had lived on the streets of Montrose for at least a year before this woman had caught her, taken her to the vet, had her fixed and "fixed," and groomed.
I've often questioned whether one can fall in love at first sight, and with people, I still wonder about that. I can tell you, though, that it is possible to fall in love at first sight, because it happened to me right there.
The woman who had rescued her called her "Annie" (little orphan annie) but I called her Jackie after Jacqueline Onassis. I figured she had had a rough life, but was regal, dignified and very, very beautiful, so naming her after the former First Lady was apropos.
Jackie came home to live with me right then. She and Barney got along just fine, although it was pretty clear that it was she who was in charge.
At first, she was so skittish about allowing someone to "control" her - she wouldn't let me put her leash on her. She so wanted to go outside with me and Barney, but she just couldn't bring herself that last few inches to let me clip the leash onto her collar. I thought making her stay behind while Barney and I went out on the leash would persuade her, but after several days, she would let me get just an eyelash from her collar and then she'd dart away.
My room mate, Billy (who's deserving of a chapter or two of his own) surprised me when I was out with Barney by coming around the other side of the block with Jackie on the leash. I asked him how the HECK he had gotten her to let him clip the leash on her, and he just looked at me like I was an alien. "Why, raw meat, you ninny."
I kept Jackie on the leash that evening, standing in the kitchen between Billy and me while we had company over. I stood on the lead to her collar so she couldn't go anywhere, and fed her scraps and petted her. She was never again relucant to let me handle her again.
Jackie was very grateful to be indoors, fed, loved and safe. Unlike Barney, who was a locust for any attention or calories, Jackie was patient, accomodating and adapting. One evening, I put in the movie "It's My Party," which I was then emotionally unprepared for. The movie made me reflect upon the dozens of friends that I'd lost to AIDS, and as the film reached its climax, I was sobbing. Jackie climbed into my lap and began licking my face. Barney, being the shit that he was, crawled into my lap as well, but he wanted the attention Jackie was getting - he wouldn't have cared if I was bleeding to death as long as he got all the food and attention.
When we moved into the apartment on Bagby, Jackie would frequently get on the bed at night and sleep near me. If I awoke during the night, I could feel the almost feather-light change in pressure as she jumped off of the bed.
Because of Barney's behavior, I started penning the two of them into the kitchen when I'd go away or sleep at night. Barney was always a piddler, who'd walk and squirt. Jackie would squat and do her business all at once, and I assumed I could differentiate between the two of them if there was an accident at home. Boy, was I wrong about that.
After a short transition period after I started restraining them in the kitchen, I'd arise nearly every morning and find a big puddle of urine in the kitchen. It was not the typical Barney walking squirt, so I assumed it was Jackie doing the dirty work. I took to "caging" her by tethering her to the laundry room door, limiting her movement to just a small area.
That worked for a short time, and then I'd arise and find Jackie, tethered to the door, standing in a lake of urine, soaking wet.
These were not good mornings for me. For her, either.
One morning, I awoke and heard the inimitable sound of urine splashing on a tile floor coming from the kitchen. Silently, I lept from my bed and dashed to the kitchen. I looked around the corner to where Jackie was tethered, and .. Barney had insinuated himself BETWEEN her and the laundry room door, and was urinating BEHIND her.
Our assumption that dogs and other creatures don't have the power to be calculating or make plans is flawed.
Jackie's life got much better after that.
In February 2007, Barney had a stroke. He was thirteen years old, and had gotten quite frail. After spending nearly ten years with him, Jackie wasn't in the least bit distressed by her constant companion lying there incapacitated. She seemed almost to communicate "ignore the black one, now it's MY turn!"
She was indeed pampered after Barney's passing. I only regret that her pampering and being attended to had to wait until Barney passed along; she had gotten old enough that we could only incrementally improve her life, not create a new one.
Jackie was a trooper in all respects - in April last, when we went with Robert and his two dogs to the ranch in Colorado, she only complained when the other dogs would plow into her in their unbridled enthusiasm in the back seat. She checked things out, and then napped for a week in the sun.
It's nearly impossible to see the physical decline in a creature you're with every day in close quarters. Jackie was having trouble going up and down stairs a year ago. She had trouble negotiating the rocks in Colorado, and she was having difficulty with the hills here in San Francisco.
Over the last two weeks, she had lost interest in eating, and was vomiting every day. Although she was clearly uncomfortable, her personality didn't change a bit. She was aloof except when she wanted attention, she was enthusiastic about going outside, and she hated getting wet.
We went back to the self-serve dog wash yesterday, and she wasn't too pleased about getting wet - again - but, she soldiered through. She couldn't walk up the steep hills, and I had to carry her.
Today, I took her to David's vet. For the first time, she couldn't get herself into the car and I had to lift her in. She sat, expectantly, on the floorboard, and nosed around with her normal detached enthusiasm in the new place. Even though visits to the vet usually cause her distress, she was peaceful and affectionate.
Initially, they couldn't find evidence of anything that would clearly explain her condition. She had arthritis far more severely than I had believed; her lower back and shoulders must have caused her great discomfort. Her stomach was distended, and they at first thought that they could treat her with a curative for her stomach lining and an appetite enhancer. The other vet did an ultrasound of her abdomen, and they found the large tumor in her stomach.
Chow chows have stomach cancer more than 20 times more often than other breeds, and when they become symptomatic, it's too late to do anything about it. Her blood values were all quite normal, so she wasn't feeling the effects of her illness, other than the stomach discomfort. There was only one decision to make, and they brought her out to say good-bye.
Jackie wasn't too much interested in being loved on right then, she was ready to move on to the next thing. She kept heading for the door, and the next place there was to go.
I've had a dog since Fred came wandering around in 1982. All three of my dogs were unwanted in their lives, discarded and thrown aside. Jackie was the most special of the three. She spent her whole life with me being grateful that I had taken her in.
Perhaps it's a sign that I'm now done with that part of my life that today was her day to exit this plane. She was the last real link to who I've always known myself to be. The rest is just dross - structures and detritus that needs to be cleared away, dealt with and disposed of.
I'm grateful to have had the time with her. I'll miss hearing her clacking around on the floor, miss her soft snore as she sleeps the day away, the happy look on her face when she gingerly chews her food, her reluctance to get her feet wet, and her nudging me with her snout, looking to get validation and love.
Godspeed, gentle soul.
Sunday, October 19, 2008
And another one bites the dust
So, while in Bellingham, I finally got to tour the Boeing Museum of Flight and walk through a BAC Concorde (G-BOAG) - I had always wanted to fly on one, but that was rather out of reach. Interestingly, it was very small and not very plush inside. Apparently, the experience was in the service and the speed.
This week, the QE2 makes its final transatlantic crossing - then it makes a Mediterranean cruise before being gutted out, towed to Dubai and converted (as in physically revised) into a floating hotel and casino. Always wanted to cross on the QE2.
And, this morning, I found this picture on Airliners.net (yes, there's a porn site for airline geeks such as I am) It's a picture of a DC-3 at Berlin Tempelhof airport. I've always wanted to fly into Tempelhof, that's the Berlin airport that was built for the 1938 Berlin Olympics. it's one of only two manmade structures in the world that's large enough to be seen from outer space (the other being the great wall of China). The airplanes pull in and park inside the structure (as you can see in the picture). It's the airport into which all the flights went for the Berlin airlift.
The airport is closing forever on 31 Oct. Tempelhof is now considered unsafe for airport operations; the city is grown up all around it, and the runways are too short. Berlin is rebuilding one of its three airports into a totally new facility and they're closing the other two, Tempelhof being the first to go.
In short order, Tempelhof's runways will be dug up, and that land redeveloped. The terminal building itself will be modified for some other use, and that it was once the world's first modern international airport will be available only through photographs and the memories of those who flew there.
If I did manage to go, would it be as my visit to Concorde was? Anti-climactic? I don't know. It is just an airport. The reward and attachment I used to have to elements of the past has faded into nothingness.
For instance, twenty years ago, I paid good money for a piece of coal from the Titanic wreck site, and an autographed photo of she who is now the last Titanic survivor, Melvinia Dean. Ms. Dean has reached an age where she requires ongoing care, and she is selling the last of her Titanic related memorabilia, including the child's sized wicker suitcase given her by the New York charities to carry her belongings once she arrived with her mother and family in New York on the Carpathia.
A few years ago, before the Green Imperial, I'd have been rabid for that suitcase. I'd have displayed it carefully with other momentos of a life that wasn't my own, and dusted it periodically; showing it to visitors and relating the story of what it was and how I came to possess it.
Now, I have no interest in it. Judy said to me yesterday that she would love to have the ability to buy that wicker suitcase for me, but that's a me that doesn't exist anymore.
Just as I reach this point in my life, I find that the market for such "treasures" has collapsed along with people's home equity lines of credit. So, I'll be hanging onto my "collection," perhaps in boxes, until a rosier day when they can be disposed of favorably.
So, it's much less my dream of flying into Tempelhof and seeing the 1930s terminal that has bitten the dust. It's my interest in seeking out fulfillment from these things outside myself that mean nothing in a life that's focused on now.
This week, the QE2 makes its final transatlantic crossing - then it makes a Mediterranean cruise before being gutted out, towed to Dubai and converted (as in physically revised) into a floating hotel and casino. Always wanted to cross on the QE2.
And, this morning, I found this picture on Airliners.net (yes, there's a porn site for airline geeks such as I am) It's a picture of a DC-3 at Berlin Tempelhof airport. I've always wanted to fly into Tempelhof, that's the Berlin airport that was built for the 1938 Berlin Olympics. it's one of only two manmade structures in the world that's large enough to be seen from outer space (the other being the great wall of China). The airplanes pull in and park inside the structure (as you can see in the picture). It's the airport into which all the flights went for the Berlin airlift.
The airport is closing forever on 31 Oct. Tempelhof is now considered unsafe for airport operations; the city is grown up all around it, and the runways are too short. Berlin is rebuilding one of its three airports into a totally new facility and they're closing the other two, Tempelhof being the first to go.
In short order, Tempelhof's runways will be dug up, and that land redeveloped. The terminal building itself will be modified for some other use, and that it was once the world's first modern international airport will be available only through photographs and the memories of those who flew there.
If I did manage to go, would it be as my visit to Concorde was? Anti-climactic? I don't know. It is just an airport. The reward and attachment I used to have to elements of the past has faded into nothingness.
For instance, twenty years ago, I paid good money for a piece of coal from the Titanic wreck site, and an autographed photo of she who is now the last Titanic survivor, Melvinia Dean. Ms. Dean has reached an age where she requires ongoing care, and she is selling the last of her Titanic related memorabilia, including the child's sized wicker suitcase given her by the New York charities to carry her belongings once she arrived with her mother and family in New York on the Carpathia.
A few years ago, before the Green Imperial, I'd have been rabid for that suitcase. I'd have displayed it carefully with other momentos of a life that wasn't my own, and dusted it periodically; showing it to visitors and relating the story of what it was and how I came to possess it.
Now, I have no interest in it. Judy said to me yesterday that she would love to have the ability to buy that wicker suitcase for me, but that's a me that doesn't exist anymore.
Just as I reach this point in my life, I find that the market for such "treasures" has collapsed along with people's home equity lines of credit. So, I'll be hanging onto my "collection," perhaps in boxes, until a rosier day when they can be disposed of favorably.
So, it's much less my dream of flying into Tempelhof and seeing the 1930s terminal that has bitten the dust. It's my interest in seeking out fulfillment from these things outside myself that mean nothing in a life that's focused on now.
Saturday, October 18, 2008
Friday, October 17, 2008
Sunny, mild and temperate AGAIN
How does one deal with this?
This morning, talking with Jan the Fabulous, I was again reminded that one needs to have a goal or a "want" that is bigger than the thoughts and worries that plague each of us every day. I looked back through my little notebook that I keep the wants and dreams in, and there they were - and still valid. Apparently, either they aren't "big" enough or they keep sliding back into obscurity.
Someone has put up a "McCain/Palin" poster in an office window a block away. It may be the only one in the city.
Jackie (the dog) is not eating, and may be really rattled with the huge change in environment and routine. I'm going to go over to the Dog Palace today (probably taking her with me) and see if they have anything that piques her interest. I've tried some psychology with her (lifted from the movie "To Live and Die in Beverly Hills,") and that generated a modicum of interest on her part, but no consumption.
Last night, I spent my Friday night doing a bunch of geekazoid research to disprove something in a Wikipedia article about Potrero Hill - this involved looking into the chronology and build locations of US Navy Battleships going back to the 1880s. WHOO! It was kind of fun, which tells you just what it is that trips my trigger.
Been contemplating what comes next for the last few days. I have some more work to do, but first, I have to do some actual WORK. I've done some cleaning around here today, but now it's time to crack the work product open.
This morning, talking with Jan the Fabulous, I was again reminded that one needs to have a goal or a "want" that is bigger than the thoughts and worries that plague each of us every day. I looked back through my little notebook that I keep the wants and dreams in, and there they were - and still valid. Apparently, either they aren't "big" enough or they keep sliding back into obscurity.
Someone has put up a "McCain/Palin" poster in an office window a block away. It may be the only one in the city.
Jackie (the dog) is not eating, and may be really rattled with the huge change in environment and routine. I'm going to go over to the Dog Palace today (probably taking her with me) and see if they have anything that piques her interest. I've tried some psychology with her (lifted from the movie "To Live and Die in Beverly Hills,") and that generated a modicum of interest on her part, but no consumption.
Last night, I spent my Friday night doing a bunch of geekazoid research to disprove something in a Wikipedia article about Potrero Hill - this involved looking into the chronology and build locations of US Navy Battleships going back to the 1880s. WHOO! It was kind of fun, which tells you just what it is that trips my trigger.
Been contemplating what comes next for the last few days. I have some more work to do, but first, I have to do some actual WORK. I've done some cleaning around here today, but now it's time to crack the work product open.
Thursday, October 16, 2008
Wednesday, October 15, 2008
Reactions:
(Swiped directly from Pam's House Blend)
ABC News: Sen. Obama also gets specific right away -- looking right to the camera with his bailout package for the middle class. And if you're looking for the first candidate to draw a distinction tonight, it's Obama, not McCain. LINK
Washington Post (Chris Cillizza): Obama is ON message. A question about campaign finance and nasty campaigning becomes an economic answer. LINK
TIME: "Jobs." And the dial lines go WHANGO! Obama should work "jobs" into every answer, including any about Bill Ayers. LINK
CNN (Bill Schneider): Obama's answers during this first line of questioning appear crisp and clear, while McCain's sound disconnected and rambling. LINK
ABC News: …McCain is still saying he'd balance the budget within four years? This is silliness, and I think McCain knows it. I look forward to his campaign explaining how, exactly, he'll do this while extending the Bush tax cuts and funding bailouts. LINK
Washington Post Fact Check (Michael Dobbs):Joe the Plumber - John McCain raised the story of "Joe the Plumber" who ran into Barack Obama at a political rally in Toledo, Ohio, earlier this week. He depicted the plumber as an average American who will end up paying more taxes under the Obama plan. In fact, the plumber told Obama that he had plans to buy a company that would make more than $250,000 a year. Obama has conceded that his proposal to phase out the Bush tax cuts for high-income groups will lead to higher taxes for people making more than $250,000 a year. Obama told the plumber that he would face an increase in his marginal tax rate from 36 to 39 per cent, but Americans earning less than $250,000 a year would stand to gain under his proposal. LINK
NBC News (Mark Murray): McCain was wrong, however, when he said that 100% of his ads weren't negative. According to a recent study by the University of Wisconsin Advertising Project, 100% of McCain's ads have been negative. LINK
Washington Post Fact Check (Michael Dobbs): McCain exaggerated the closeness of the relationship between Obama and former Weather Underground founder Bill Ayers in claiming that his rival had "launched his political career" in Ayers' living room. It is true that Obama attended a coffee meeting at Ayers' home after he announced his intention to run for the state senate in September 2005. But according to Lynn Sweet of the Chicago Sun-Times, who has tracked Obama's political career closely, the Ayers' event was only one of a series of coffees in the Hyde Park community where he lived. The kickoff for Obama's Senate run came at a meeting in the Hyde Park Ramada Inn on Sept. 19, 1995. LINK
TIME: McCain is flat-out lying about Obama's health care plan. It is not government-run health care, and looks nothing like the Canadian system. LINK
Washington Post Fact Check (Glenn Kessler): John McCain made two assertions on corporate taxes, one that small businesses pay 50 percent of the taxes and the other that U.S. corporations are among the highest taxed in the world. Both are wrong. LINK
Washington Post Fact Check (Alec MacGillis): McCain said that ACORN, the large anti-poverty and affordable housing organization, is perpetrating one of the greatest voter frauds in the history of the country. This is greatly overstating the allegations that have been brought against the group in recent weeks. LINK
Washington Post (Chris Cillizza): The Fix- Again, lots of different attacks from McCain...hard for the average viewer to know what to take from debate. LINK
ABC News: Sen. Obama also gets specific right away -- looking right to the camera with his bailout package for the middle class. And if you're looking for the first candidate to draw a distinction tonight, it's Obama, not McCain. LINK
Washington Post (Chris Cillizza): Obama is ON message. A question about campaign finance and nasty campaigning becomes an economic answer. LINK
TIME: "Jobs." And the dial lines go WHANGO! Obama should work "jobs" into every answer, including any about Bill Ayers. LINK
CNN (Bill Schneider): Obama's answers during this first line of questioning appear crisp and clear, while McCain's sound disconnected and rambling. LINK
ABC News: …McCain is still saying he'd balance the budget within four years? This is silliness, and I think McCain knows it. I look forward to his campaign explaining how, exactly, he'll do this while extending the Bush tax cuts and funding bailouts. LINK
Washington Post Fact Check (Michael Dobbs):Joe the Plumber - John McCain raised the story of "Joe the Plumber" who ran into Barack Obama at a political rally in Toledo, Ohio, earlier this week. He depicted the plumber as an average American who will end up paying more taxes under the Obama plan. In fact, the plumber told Obama that he had plans to buy a company that would make more than $250,000 a year. Obama has conceded that his proposal to phase out the Bush tax cuts for high-income groups will lead to higher taxes for people making more than $250,000 a year. Obama told the plumber that he would face an increase in his marginal tax rate from 36 to 39 per cent, but Americans earning less than $250,000 a year would stand to gain under his proposal. LINK
NBC News (Mark Murray): McCain was wrong, however, when he said that 100% of his ads weren't negative. According to a recent study by the University of Wisconsin Advertising Project, 100% of McCain's ads have been negative. LINK
Washington Post Fact Check (Michael Dobbs): McCain exaggerated the closeness of the relationship between Obama and former Weather Underground founder Bill Ayers in claiming that his rival had "launched his political career" in Ayers' living room. It is true that Obama attended a coffee meeting at Ayers' home after he announced his intention to run for the state senate in September 2005. But according to Lynn Sweet of the Chicago Sun-Times, who has tracked Obama's political career closely, the Ayers' event was only one of a series of coffees in the Hyde Park community where he lived. The kickoff for Obama's Senate run came at a meeting in the Hyde Park Ramada Inn on Sept. 19, 1995. LINK
TIME: McCain is flat-out lying about Obama's health care plan. It is not government-run health care, and looks nothing like the Canadian system. LINK
Washington Post Fact Check (Glenn Kessler): John McCain made two assertions on corporate taxes, one that small businesses pay 50 percent of the taxes and the other that U.S. corporations are among the highest taxed in the world. Both are wrong. LINK
Washington Post Fact Check (Alec MacGillis): McCain said that ACORN, the large anti-poverty and affordable housing organization, is perpetrating one of the greatest voter frauds in the history of the country. This is greatly overstating the allegations that have been brought against the group in recent weeks. LINK
Washington Post (Chris Cillizza): The Fix- Again, lots of different attacks from McCain...hard for the average viewer to know what to take from debate. LINK
Amusements and information some will find helpful
This is a cute, cute quip about Sarah Palin as president - move your mouse around the page and click on anything that the cursor will open.
Here is a calculator for how Obama's proposed tax plan would work for you specifically.
Have to get over to "work" now.
Here is a calculator for how Obama's proposed tax plan would work for you specifically.
Have to get over to "work" now.
Monday, October 13, 2008
Has the danger passed?
So, something has been done and on a broad scale. This article sums up what has happened and what is likely better than anything I could write.
Sunday, October 12, 2008
Working at the dog wash, yeah
Just down the hill a bit is an adorable, well stocked dog and cat store - they don't sell dogs and cats, they sell to dog and cat owners. In the back, they have a double tub self-grooming area, which is so easy to use and CHEAP! Only $15, and they supply the water, the shampoo, big yellow rubber aprons, grooming tools, towels, and a blow dryer, which we didn't try. I didn't try the nail clippers, either. Only so much could be endured at once.
Jackie was remarkably more calm in this environment than she was in the bathtub. Having the spray nozzle on a flexible hose was also a big plus.
Why don't we have these in Texas?
Jackie was remarkably more calm in this environment than she was in the bathtub. Having the spray nozzle on a flexible hose was also a big plus.
Why don't we have these in Texas?
Saturday, October 11, 2008
Fleet week
Sunny and 61 degrees. Windy. Clear skies. Wow.
Jackie keeps walking to the front window and looking out wistfully. There's no balcony there, so her interest is unrewarded. She still hasn't been eating, but David's fraidy-cats have been enjoying her food lying in a dish on the kitchen floor.
We're going to run to the Container Store today, and to the office, so I can retrieve my teakettle.
Jackie keeps walking to the front window and looking out wistfully. There's no balcony there, so her interest is unrewarded. She still hasn't been eating, but David's fraidy-cats have been enjoying her food lying in a dish on the kitchen floor.
We're going to run to the Container Store today, and to the office, so I can retrieve my teakettle.
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