TV Time

I would like to tell you about the ancient, stone knife blade I came across during my last camping trip in central Nevada. I would like to tell you about the chilling crossroads we re-visited near Area 51. At the moment, I can’t. I just spent the last few days in Oregon and my mind is completely polluted by the Brain Drain (television). My god! I’m so glad we don’t have a TV. The feverish spin of the election “news” is so polluting. I found I was watching more television to counter act the effect of watching some television. At home, I get my news online. I control the sources and the pace. The dis/ease spewing from the propaganda machines of Fox and CNN etc. is really unsettling. After a couple of days of being force fed poison pap, I felt ill. I can see why TV is the preferred brain-washing tool of Corporate Amerika and its agents in Washington DC. It works.

The first time I voted, I voted for Ronald Reagan. Don’t get me wrong. It wasn’t because I thought Reagan would make a good president. Even though I was living on a religious commune and barely knew what year it was, I knew Reagan was an asshole. I just didn’t care who was president. However, it was the opinion of our spiritual leaders was that voting for Reagan was good because “preaching would be so much better after the war” (he would start). So I voted for Reagan.

The other night, instead of sleeping, I lay awaking thinking that maybe Bush should win this election. After all, he deserves shit on his face, for all the shit he’s hurled at the fan. Maybe after four more years of his ever increasing shit storm, people would wake up…. blahblahblah. But, the fact is, we don’t learn “later”. We either learn or we don’t. Plus, it already is later and the behind the scene guys running the Bush administration are the same guys that ran the Reagan administration…the good old boys over at the Project for the New American Century, moldy wine in new bottles. They are everyone’s enemy and Bush is merely their latest poster boy.

But the brain dead dummy christian religious fanatics have fallen for an illusion of security, sweetened with the promise that gays will go away and creationism will be re-enthroned as the state philosophy. These dopes are simply the well-fed counterparts of the muslim (etc.) fanatics. In fact, the evangelicals, whatever name they give their “god”, are closer to each other than to anybody else on the planet. And the christian and muslim extremists are out of the same pod. And what particularily erks me is that they are both lopsided, oppressive patriarchies claiming exclusive access to The One and Only True and Jealous God who just happens to want men to control women, for their own good of course.

But for however smart they claim to be, people who can but don’t vote are no better. Silence is compliance. After I left the commune, I was dejected for a long time. For all the soul sucking, it’s hard transitioning out of the safely cloistered world of a religious community. I was pretty numb but it life returned. Eventually there was evan a local measure on the ballot I actually felt strongly about. A first. About fifteen minutes before the polls closed I found myself directly across the street from the library where the voting was taking place. But instead of going over and casting my ballot I gave in to the old thought, “Oh well. Why bother? One vote won’t make a difference one way or another.” The measure I would have voted for lost by one vote. So vote, damn it.

Oh, and if you want to watch the so-called debate online and comment afterwards go to Talk Left.

Requiem for a Cockroach

La Mort de Ha'penny
We got home from camping yesterday to find out that Ha'penny had died. There was an unseasonal cold snap the day before and the drunken neighbor who was watching over things didn't think to turn the heat on. She was the baby of the bunch and just got too cold. Bummer. This Christmas we would have had her three years. I can't really blame the neighbor. Cockroaches are cold-blooded so I always meant to get a heat pad for them but didn't get around to it until yesterday. Delicata and Nugget are pretty happy about it but sadly it's too late for Ha'penny.


La Delicata and Ha'penny with Nugget on tube.
It's funny the things we can get attached to. Mr. Lee and I were really shocked when Ladybug gave us three giant, hissing Madagascan cockroaches as our Big Present, Christmas 2001. I have to admit, cockroaches were not on the Wish List. We named them La Delicata the big fat pig, Nugget because, after all, we are in Nevada and Ha'penny because she was the watermelon seed sized baby who hitchhiked a ride in the shavings. There were only supposed to be two. But life is life, big or small, and she became part of mine. So I will miss her now and then. I put a chunk of crystal in the terrarium as a place holder marking the mystery of things.

Delicata, Nugget and the Ha'penny Stone

Tonopah Public Library

Tonopah is half ghost town located along highway 395 in Nevada, but as long as it has a gas station it will never die. I happen to really like Tonopah and am here for the weekend at a conference. Lucky me. It's got a fantastic museum, a wonderful old graveyard and creepy, decrepit buildings such as the abandoned Mizpah Hotel which is perpetually for sale; plus plenty of boarded-up miner shacks, not much bigger than the cots they once sheltered, to make even the dirt alleys ripe or rotten (according to your perspective) with history. Tonopah has had several boom and bust cycles but is just too mean to die. The surrounding playa is dotted with sun-bleached pyramid shaped piles of tailings left by crazed miners ransacking the desert for gold. It sprawls between several wind carved peaks but even they have been shaved down to nubs and there's a defunct mine pit right in the center of town. But I digress.

I just checked my website and found that none of the photos are loading! Fuck! It may be that the library's computers are too slow or their settings are super restricted, something along those lines, but other sites load just fine. If you have a second, I'd really appreciate it if you'd check a couple of links for me and let me know if you see the images. If you go to the Nevada Journal (and can see anything) check out the photo of Bill Bailey, Sheik of the Desert. I took that in the Tonopah Museum. From the looks of things, Bill Bailey was high up in the social hierarchy here perhaps only a tier or two down from Madame Taxscine, Tonopah's favorite Madame fondly referred to as the Little Desert Mother. She's in the Nevada Journal too. Here's those links: Ashabot - Nevada Journal
It's undoubtedly my fault but I don't know what I'm doing wrong. I check my site from other computers whenever I get the chance and usually things are okay. But this is bad. I don't know crap about building a website. I just bang around in FrontPage and hope I get things right. If anyone has any tips, I'd really appreciate hearing from you. You can leave a comment here or email me directly at ... ashaATashabotDOTcom ... I'll pick it up when I can. I'd prefer hearing from you in email so I have a better chance of picking your brain, but then maybe you don't want your brain picked.

In happier news from the road, John called this morning just minutes before we left. He got home about 10 last night!!! I was ecstatic. I wish they'd all come home. NOW.

Outback and Apple Pie

It's late and we're leaving early in the morning for the back country. Sorry. I hate calling it that. Sounds so affected. But it's better than saying "outback", even thought it's perhaps a more accurate image. But "outback" sounds completely phony to me. What the hell? I'm not in Australia. But Nevada is a true and great wilderness. We will be completely off the grid. Sorry for using another cliche but it's a good image. That's exactly where we'll be. A cell phone wouldn't work, if we had one. The jeep is packed and both Mr. Lee and I are drooped over our keyboards, too wired to sleep. But we're leaving in 5 hours so I'm going to go now.

But one thing. I'm kind of superstitious about mentioning good things until I know for sure, but I'm going to take a risk and tell you anyway. Otherwise, I won't be able to say anything for a week or two. My son John is coming home! He's not going to Iraq after all, at least right now. If you don't know, he was recently deployed along with the rest of his Montana National Guard Unit and has been training in Texas for the last couple of months. But Congress sets tine limits on overseas duty and because he has already served abroad he would exceed them before the rest of his Unit. He wasn't told before he left. Once they're deployed, some guys "volunteer" to extend. He didn't, thank god. He was supposed to arrive home today but I haven't heard anything yet. Anita told me that he called the university when he found out he was returning and got permission to start classes late. I'm delighted! What a twist!! Oh my god!!! Last I heard, she stayed up late last night and baked him an apple pie.

Liar's Test

How can you tell when President Bush is lying?
His lips are moving.

You Don't Have to be Smart to be Mean

Finch and Feeders.

Case in point. I bought a cheap ass bird feeder the other day for the finches. Now finches are in need of a little TLC. They are those tiny song birds about 2 inches tall and, due to all the development and in particular the neighborhood cats, they are disappearing at an alarming rate. So a while ago I bought them a bird sock. They love it. The problem is the bigger birds love it too, gobble the seeds and in the process, drill out the holes. So I bought this cheap ass tube. It's clear plastic with four feeder posts. You can easily see the seed through the tube but the only way to get at it is via the slits made exclusively for finches. I envision a day when only the tiny song birds will dine at the tube. Of course they all hate it and have, for the most part, been ignoring the damn thing. The bag is much more bird-friendly. It's made of soft, perforated material they can easily cling to and nibble to their hearts content. And sometimes I think they riding the bag in the windjust for the fun of it. Anyway, I am slowly weaning them off of it. I only fill it a little bit and letting it hang empty for a while everything it gets empty. The result is that gradually the finches are using the new feeder and the larger birds are going elsewhere.

But not the dummy. This afternoon, two finches were eating from the new tube and one big guy. One big, dumb guy. He was pecking at the clear plastic and couldn't figure out for the life of him why he wasn't getting what what he so clearly saw right in front of him. He's like George Bush. Bush's words and actions don't match either, they don't even make any sense. Anyway, sorry for the slip into politics. Where was I? Oh yes. Birds. The other day the dummy noticed that the finches were getting seed, so he reached over, pecked them away then went back to the pecking at the outside of the tube. Dumb and mean. Like Bush.

GOBs

SICK and TIRED of government "by the GOBs, for the GOBs? Me too. Here's a good rant on subject. GOBs, of course being the "Good Old Boys". If they make it through this upcoming election, we have only ourselves to blame.

Polling Place Locater

Don't know where you're supposed to go to vote? Use this handy polling place locater. Click here or the JUST VOTE icon below. This site has everything, maps, sample ballots. You can even check on the status of your voter's registeration card. During the last election, I wasn't allowed to vote. They claimed I wasn't registered, which was bullshit because I was.


POLLING PLACE LOCATER

Crow's Breath

This morning it was cold enough to see a crow's breath. I've never noticed a crow's breath before. I've never noticed any bird's breath before. It was a cool way to start the day.

The crows are here a lot. They're intelligent. They can make and use tools. They're social. They can learn words. Perhaps I can strike up an acquaintance with one; share some small talk now and then. I'm not a full on birdwatcher but the crows are here anyway so what the heck? It's not a formal project but perhaps the birds and I will have a little fun. It's a chance that it's always the same crow on roof broadcasting the morning news so I'll start with her.

Also, speaking of birds.... Plonk and his girlfriend were here this morning for breakfast, so she's okay after all.

"It was the saying of Bion, that though boys throw stones at frogs in sport, yet the frogs do not die in sport but in earnest." --Plutarch

Birds in the Bush

It's the down side of being a small world. Things get around and even though deserts aren't mosquitoes friendly places, the West Nile virus has finally gotten around to Nevada.

No mosquitoes, please.

The advance of the virus is tracked by the trail of dead birds left in its wake but, as usual, anything other than human is suffering gets little press. The Reno Gazette-Journel did publish a good article on the subject though. It's definitely worth a read. I sure hope Plonk will be okay. At least he's been around lately. I haven't seen his girlfriend though so I'm worried about her. I'm worried about them all... the roudy, morning bunch of crows, the tiny finches, sparrows, and big, lovely magpies. They are all at risk, and perhaps the crows in particular. And I've been complaining about them. How quickly things can change. Sad. Very sad.

Plonk (L) and his girlfriend.

Sometimes good things happen to bad people.

It rained last night. The smell of damp sage is coming in through my window, along with the sound of dripping water. The desert light is soft and bright. And my new keyboard arrived. A belated birthday present from Mr. Lee. It's a Yamaha s90. Holy crap!

Zero G Hotel

Midnight Wishes and Zero G Bars

I hope you enjoyed this summer's Perseid Meteor Showers. Mr. Lee and I went out about 10 and made a few wishes. Wouldn't miss it for the world.... even though the light pollution was a drag. It's times like these that imagination comes in very handy. There I had a perfect view from a big, comfortable chair bobbing in outer space. I could see Earth, among limitless stars, bathing in the comet's space river. Absolutely lovely. I'm sure when space tourism becomes afforadable, dinner for two in a zero G bar or hotel restrauant will be the place to be during the Perseids. On the other hand, meteors only light up after they enter Earth's atmosphere so maybe they won't be visible from the the bar. Hmmm. Well, I'm sure they will provide us with some kind of entertainment.

I hear that Anita and John sat together (via phone) at midnight watching the Perseids, making wishes. I hope they all come true.

Through the window

Plonk and the small birds.

Bird Park Update

This morning the birds are contentedly nibbling away in the Bird Park outside my window. The weeds are taller then ever, but the taller they get, the more they like it. You could almost say the backyard has gone to the birds but it never was landscaped in the first place. We tried doing a lawn on the cheap but it failed. The effort did result in a more interesting variety of weeds however. Anyway, lawns are stupid. Especially in a desert. Think about it. In the first place, weeds are free. They don't require any watering or maintenance. You don't have to go out and weed em. Plus they hold the dirt down. And the more the merrier, as far as the birds are concerned. They love wandering around under the towering stalks eating the tasty seeds I sprinkle for them. You may think I’m exaggerating about how virle the weeds are. I only snap off the tops when they poke over the 8 foot fence. Out of respect for the neighbors. It is, truly, the least I can do.

Plonk's back since I stopped putting out so many crow goodies. As you might remember from an earlier exciting Bird Park update, he started hanging out next door while we were in Mexico and, o_pain_o_me_heart, he didn't dash home the minute we returned. But I don't blame him. He's a shy fellow and doesn't care much for raucous types. Crows land with a thump and stomp through the crowd snapping up everything in sight. They're a pain in the ass but they're grand. I wouldn't want Plonk to know this but I'd love riding around on a crow's back. Or better yet, a magpie's. But Plonk is number one around here; Plonk and the little birds. I haven't seen Plonk's girlfriend lately but then I'm staring at the monitor most of the day and forget to look out the window. Anyway, here's a photo of Plonk from this morning.

Señor Muerte and Lagarto - 08.09.04

Tarjeta del Días, número nueve

Shakespeare and the Clown

HAMLET
They are sheep and calves which seek out assurance in that. I will speak to this fellow. Whose grave's this, sirrah?

First Clown
Mine, sir.


Hamlet
Act 5 - Scene 1
-------------------------
Number nine. La Calavera is the last card of this silly Tarjeta del Días extravaganza single-digit-day-in-August birthday party I sucked myself into. Like yesterday, the bug backed out so Will volunteered to be presenter again. Poets always get the dirty work. Part of the job. So... if today's your birthday, don't say you didn't get anything. If it's not, lucky you, I guess. But then, as always, it's all in how you see things.

Whew. Some party! I'm glad it's over. I think I won't do this next year.

Shakespeare and the Spider

LEONTES

How blest am I
In my just censure, in my true opinion!
Alack, for lesser knowledge! how accursed
In being so blest! There may be in the cup
A spider steep'd, and one may drink, depart,
And yet partake no venom, for his knowledge
Is not infected: but if one present
The abhorr'd ingredient to his eye, make known
How he hath drunk, he cracks his gorge, his sides,
With violent hefts. I have drunk,
and seen the spider.


A Winter's Tale - Act 2, Scene 1
-------------------------------------------------------
Understandably, the bug did not want to attend today's Tarjeta del Días so the task naturally fell to Bill as interim copy editor at the Ashabot. Yes, it's a dirty job but poets always get the dirty jobs. At least, that's my experience.

If you're thinking that I am exploiting Wills, that he's over-qualified and the arrangement is an offense to him personally and the scholastic tradition in general...hell, doesn't bother me. Times are hard for poets so it's good for both of us. He's glad for the work and I'm glad for the help and the company. With this morning's drawing, we're debating what knowledge acceptance will not temper.

Tarjeta del Días, número ocho

El Cotorro

El Cotorro looks a little bit freaked out, but I sure feel better. Okay. You've got your friggin card for the day. Now go do something productive. Jay-sus. I've got work to do. Providing you with these 10 seconds of entertainment has already laid my morning waste.

Tarjeta del Días, número siete WHEW!

Tarjeta del Días, número siete...up close.

Luck of the draw

Day Seven

Day seven of the single-digit-day-in-August birthday party. At this point it's become like a haunted house I'm entering on a dare. I'm afraid. What if THE HAND is inside? Yes, I'll draw the damn card. In a minute. I just need to calm myself first. Okay, chances are against a fourth appearance of La Mano and besides, I've decided the hand is a good thing, if a bit persistent. And...it's a game anyway. They're Mexican Bingo cards fercrissake. Bingo cards!

I did play an interesting game of War one time. Remember that one? This one particular game was very peculiar. It lasted one round and ended in a stalemate. We both put down exactly the same card every time. What are the chances of that happening?

But, back to Tarjeta del Día. I'm going to draw the card now and will post it in a few minutes. I'm sure it will be a different one today. I mean....really...how long can these silly coincidences go on?

Tarjeta del Días, número seises

The Hand...for the THIRD time.

Okay .... now I actually am a tiny bit spooked. The card for today is ... again ... The Hand. Third time in a row. Now let's get one thing straight. I really do shuffle the deck and I draw the card with my eyes closed. And there are fifty-six cards in the deck. So what are the odds that I pull the same card three days in a row? I'll tell you. Slim. The bug and I are a little concerned you think this game is fixed so we called in three character witnesses to vouch for us. They have put their personal reputations on the line to back us up. You many not believe me, the bug, the lizard or the dog but at least, for god's sake, you can trust Shakespeare. That's red ink on his cheek. He's been filling in around the Ashabot until I can find a new proof-reader to replace Orbalina. Plus, I'm from the great state of Nevada. We take our gaming very seriously here. This is a bonafide true and balanced wheel folks. Fate has spoken. La Mano is the official Tarjeta del Día, número seises.

So, it's Hippolyte Lizard's birthday. Happy Birthday HP! Looks to me that, along with The Inner Swine, the Hand of God is on your brow. Whew! Esteemed company. And Happy (Un)Birthday to everyone else, as the case may apply. No offense, but I can't wait for this damn party to be over. Three more days to go. I'm really hoping that tomorrow I'll get a different card. I don't think I can take much more of this.

Tarjeta del Día, número cinco
Sniffing the hand that feeds it?

The Hand...AGAIN!

Haaaaaaaaaaaappy Birrrrthdaaaaaaaaaay tooooooooo youuuuuuuuuuuuuuu, El Swino. Now, WTF did you do to the damn Mexican Bingo cards? I drew La Mano again! Even the poor bug is freaked out. We all know about your plans to rule the universe Somers, but this is going too far. We're having a birthday party here. La Mano belongs to the August 1st single-digit-day-in-August birthday kids. What are you doing with it on your birthday?

Yes, I put yesterday's card back in the deck. Can't blame me for taking the rare opportunity to play with full deck but I shuffled the hell out of it. Here's where you come in. Before drawing I thought, "What card would Somers take?" The answer was obvious ... the top card, the fucking plum. And what did it turn out to be? La Mano...again! What does it all mean? Dare we assume that the Hand of Fate, the very La Mano del Dios is on your brow? Maybe. You've claimed that all along. Perhaps you're right. In any case, the hand has spoken.

I confess. It kind of spooked me. Plus I've got my reputation to consider. I don't want people thinking I stooped to a bribe, that the fix, in any way, is in. The Tarjeta del Día is strictly on the up and up. I barely resisted putting the card back and reshuffling the deck but I don't want to go down that crooked path. So here we are, barely half way through our single-digit-day-in-August birthday kid's party and chaos! The August 1st bunch is crying because you are wearing their hat and blowing their horn. Well, I wash my manos of the matter. I suppose that's why people call the hand of fate fickle. In any case, La Mano has spoken and it is yours and my wish stands. Happy Birthday.

La Mano