Adventures in Birdland

Birdie Num Num
Magpies love peanuts so I
put some out this morning along
with a little cheese then waited for
one to arrive. It took about 3 minutes.


The Early Bird
However, the magpie wasn't
the only one who showed up.


Kitty Num Num


Hasty Retreat
But the cat beat a hasty retreat
as the magpie hopped along
the fense squawking at him.



Table for One
Be sure to check out the
classy black pants.



Two for One

Wizards of Oz

Georgetown, USA

Power loves a vacuum; that's why the Neoconservatives filled the one in US politics (quietly), while the rest of us were busy doing other things. Until recently the neocons were one of American's best kept secrets, but the war in Iraq changed a lot. Among other things, we got politicized, polarized and some of us began poking our noses under the tent. After all, Bush mired us in a sink hole, lose-lose war with the Muslim world. Why not ask why?

In the beginning I thought it was the Republicans who got us into this mess. But after doing some reading I found out that, at least on the national level, the Republican Party is a sockpuppet for the Neoconservatives. In case you haven't been following along, the neocons embrace a fascist ideology and are deeply embedded in Georgetown society and beltway politics. One of their main strengths is blending into the background, appearing to be mainstream but, as Michael Lind of the New Statesman put it, "they are an extremist group of former liberals; "products of the largely Jewish-American Trotskyist movement of the 1930s and 1940s, which morphed into anti-communist liberalism between the 1950s and 1970s and finally into a kind of militaristic and imperial right."

For a quick look at who and what the neocons are, scroll through this page. I think you'll find it interesting.

Perception Management

The New War
Ever wonder how Bush has so successful passed off such obvious lies? Perception Management combined with a vast dissemination network. It's all just part of the Neo-Conservative's grand plan. After the embarrassment of Watergate and Vietnam, the big brains at the neocon think tanks decided that the real war was the "war of ideas". That's when they began sculpting what they call their "war machine". Perception Management, which includes doublespeak and newspeak, is one of their most powerful and dangerous weapons. George Orwell coined the term newspeak but the neocons brought it to life. Perception Management establishes the machinery by which opposition can be bent towards their goal; a free-wheeling, uncensored collusion between an authoritarian government and (select) private corporations. Bush's effectiveness depends on newspeak and doublespeak.

FreeDictionary.com explains that the basic idea behind newspeak is ... to remove all shades of meaning from language, leaving simple dichotomies such as pleasure / pain, happiness / sadness, good / evil. In addition, words with opposite meanings are removed, so "bad" becomes "ungood", "lies" become "misinformation". The ultimate aim of newspeak is to reduce even the dichotomies to a single word that is a "yes" of some sort: an obedient word with which everyone will answer affirmatively to whatever is asked of them. Bush does not lead. He does not have a vision. Bush jabbers newspeak while standing before hand picked audiences at select locations prized for their patriotic ambiance. http://encyclopedia.thefreedictionary.com/newspeak


Newspeak

And doublespeak. FreeDictionary defines doublespeak as "language deliberately constructed to disguise or distort its actual meaning." Doublespeak is a communication bypass. In doublespeak a corporation says "downsizing" or "non-duty, non-pay status" instead of "you're fired", and the news reports "collateral damage" rather than "innocent civilian death". A doctor may say "patient failed to fulfill his wellness potential" instead of "patient died", and a junk dealer advertises a "semi-antique rug" instead of a "used rug". As you might guess, doublespeak is also a huge hit with the government, military,and corporate institutions. Call me old-fashioned, but for me the test of a person is still what they do, not what they say they do. http://encyclopedia.thefreedictionary.com/Double+speak

The name "Patriot Act" is a brilliant example of Perception Management. It equates loss of freedom with freedom. It turns the US into a ready-to-go, 21st Century style police state but the sleepers are grateful. This act was drafted before 9-11 then the neocons waited for an appropriate crisis to slip it in. Their patience paid off. After 9-11, people were desperate. Most didn't protest the Patriot Act at all. They didn't know what it entailed, but they loved the newspeak title. They snuggled right up to it. It has a nice, comforting ring, like "Homeland Security". The fact is, the Patriot Act was forced on us , a true triumph for the perception managers. It was voted into law without anybody reading it. They couldn't. No one received a copy of the some thousand page document until the night before the vote.

Over the years the neocons also built another indispensable arm of their war machine, a well-funded network of think tanks, media outlets and attack groups like Fox News, the Wall Street Journal and the Washington Times. Furthermore, they installed an army of over-the-top conservative commentators on TV, radio, in newspaper columns and on well-funded websites. Perhaps you've noticed.

I understand why otherwise intelligent people fall for all this. Perception management is complete. Meaning appears to be on the surface. Suggestions and ideas instantly become foregone conclusions and are reported in the media like news. When that fails, the conservatives use bribes. My hope is that Americans on both sides of the political spectrum will join together and change the frightening direction the radical right is dragging us. We shall see.

Want to read more about Perception Management? Check out the Dictionary of Modern Newspeak. There's a link to it from the Newspeak Dictionary website. It is a true formula for a very dangerous form of madness when you add in George Bush's religious fanaticism and hubris.

Monday Blue Plate Poetry Special, #1

I attend a local poetry critique group called Ash Canyon Poets that also happens to be the best one I've ever attended. In general, that's not saying much. Most writer's groups suck big time, but this is one is an exception. There are some fine poets in attendance and the group as a whole has a genuine love and awareness of what is real poetry. Even the occasional precious artiste who drifts in gets useful pointers with a minimum of mollycoddling. I tried a writer's group in Reno a couple of years ago, but it didn't go well. As is more often the case, egos got in the way. I took a break when I went on the Interferon treatment for Hep C and by the time I was ready to pick up my life again, the group faded out. Ash Canyon, on the other hand, has been meeting on Friday nights at the Brewery Arts Center for the last 18 years. That is amazing.

Cats in Birdland

Birdland Hanky Panky
A couple of neighborhood cats have discovered my little bird park. The bastards! I suppose it was inevitable, especially with the big piles of dry weeds laying around. They use them like hunting blinds. I haven't found any feather piles yet but not for lack of scheming on the cats' part. The birds have been a little scarse lately. I don't think they're any too happy with cats crawling though the underbrush. Definitely puts a crimp in the party. And I'm sure it's no comfort that there's a little courting action going on. But try herding cats.

Still Afternoon

It is amusing the way words twist, no more than vapors, while in the neighborhood a buzz saw gets down to business. It is an afternoon with no where to go but home, away from the street, closed doors and sadness. An afternoon to sit and watch images of things that never were, happen in places that don't exist...happen in my mind with such detail, so quickly they are instant memories among memories of things that did happen, once, perhaps. Then a different fly starts and stops on the warm window sill. And the little, black dog, asleep on a penny, twitches and sighs with a dream, wakes to bark then, convinced, curls again to sleep. And still it is afternoon.

The big dog hears a couple of small explosions in the muted distance, rushes to the screen door, presses her nose to it, goes back under the table where she licks a crumb then, satisfied, disappears down the hall. I hear her flop and sigh in the dark innards of the house. The afternoon is finally quiet. I list in the silence like an unsinkable, wrecked ship. I will never cry. When everything else is gone, there will be one small hurling drop of water grooved in its orbit in black space.

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* This may seem like a confessional poem, but it's not.