Dead or alive

The Massachusetts School of Law at Andover is undertaking an interesting project this fall. An article at opednews.com explains that they, "intend to establish the organizational structures necessary to pursue the guilty as long as necessary and, if need be, to the ends of the Earth". In this case, the guilty party they have in their cross hairs is George W. Bush and Company, ie. Richard Cheney, Donald Rumsfeld, John Yoo and others, including Federal judges and members of Congress.

Lawrence Velvel, Dean and Co-founder of the school, points out that until now the practice has been to allow U.S. officials responsible for war crimes to enjoy immunity from prosecution upon leaving office. "President Johnson retired to his Texas ranch and his Defense Secretary Robert McNamara was named to head the World Bank; Richard Nixon retired to San Clemente and his Secretary of State Henry Kissinger was allowed to grow richer and richer." He noted that, "in the years since the prosecution and punishment of German and Japanese leaders after World War Two those nation's leaders changed their countries' aggressor cultures. One cannot discount contributory cause and effect here", he said. "For Bush, Richard Cheney, Donald Rumsfeld, and John Yoo to spend years in jail or go to the gallows for their crimes would be a powerful lesson to future American leaders," he added.

At last! God, I hope they pull it off because a reckoning is way way way overdue.

Baby bird and the brain drain

It's morning here in Nevada. The smoke from California fires has cleared some from yesterday and the sky is blue. Birds are coming and going at the Bird Park. I buried a baby quail this morning. I found him curled up in the water faucet dugout under M. Lee's window. So tiny. Looks like he got separated from his parents, tucked in and died waiting for them to return. Quail are doting parents. I'm sure they were desperate. First quail baby I've seen this spring. Sad. They define sweet innocence. I put him in the quail dust bath party park and lounge. Seemed right. It's their favorite place.


Otherwise, I've been pacing myself during this political season, wading through the online sewer of hype and lies in an attempt to follow the issues. I shudder to think about how deep the shit bog is in TV land by now. And it's only going to get worse. Once again, I am so glad we ditched the box, the agitation, staleness, the lies, the bullshit non-issues, the mind-numbing repetition. Gives me the spins just thinking about it . . .

In my neighborhood

so many brains docked at the
glowing white light
so many eyes
fluttering moths on the screen
so many hands
lifting food to
so many mouths munch munch
munching families all in a row
locked
in a one-way communication
from
them
it
life too
dreary too
disconnected too
long too
small too
ordinary too
overwhelming
to count
the people
gavaged like geese

only willingly

Spinal tap

I finally had the epidural this morning but it was less than perfect. About five minutes after leaving the hospital, a gripping head/eye ache set in so I called the doctor who told me to stay in bed until tomorrow then call him again. Seems headache is a symptom of a punctured lumbar. The needle accidentally perforates the membrane and steroids are injected into the spinal column instead of the lumbar region. A spinal tap enters that area but to withdraw fluid, not inject it. Lovely. The epidural will probably still work just fine, but for today it's best if I stay horizontal to take pressure off the area. So that's what I'm doing today, lying in bed with my laptop and Pony Lightning. That guy never passes up an invitation to chill.

I need a break anyway. And, what doesn't kill me is supposed to make me stronger, right? Or at least maybe my back will stop hurting so much. The last week, culminating with this epidural, was really hectic. Among other things, I worked at the DAWG rummage sale from Friday to Sunday and Saturday night I helped host a potluck, skit and birthday party with some friends. I directed the skit, which was nice for me, exild from the magic circle. It's a long complicated story beginning way back, and not entirely my fault, something of a legacy, but the result is the same. The Feast of Consequences. What ya' gonna do?

This is the third epidural I've had. Dr. Thomas Ewald in Ashland gave me the first two when I lived in Oregon. He was no better than a bad vet. Motioned me to the examine table, swab...n...jab as he chatted about his many horses. No dye highlighting the area. No x-ray guided imaging. After the courteous, meticulous treatment (in spite of the spinal injection) I received today, I have more sympathy than ever for animals at the mercy of careless, clueless people. To top it off, that sloppy bastard nearly killed me one time with a wrong emergency room diagnosis. I just went over to the health grades directory and gave him a bad rating. Take that, Ewald.

Skidrow Penthouse

I believe I forgot to mention that recently a couple of poems of mine were accepted for publication by Skidrow Penthouse. I don't know which issue they will appear in, not the spring. That's already out. Anyway, I got some ink on the acceptance letter. It is the little things. after all. Ever heard of them? They're located in New York, E. 3rd. I liked that. Used to live on 3rd and Broadway. And they like idiosyncratic writers.

I cut the following from their "About" page:

Skidrow Penthouse is published to give emerging and idiosyncratic writers a new forum in which to publish their work. We are looking for deeply felt authentic voices, whether surreal, confessional, New York School, formal, or free verse. Work should be well crafted: attention to line-break and diction. We want poets who sound like themselves, not workshop professionals. We don’t want gutless posturing, technical precision with no subject matter, explicit sex and violence without craft, or abstract intellectualizing. We are not impressed by previous awards and publications.

So, that's it. Just sayin'.

Local news at 5:25

Nothing much to add to the world's chatter today. Well, I am glad Obama finally closed the nomination. He was one of the few not fooled or bullied by the Republi-con Jack-off for Iraq campaign and neither was I so he gets my vote. Plus, he kicks ass. It would be nice if someone with brains and ethics were elected to represent the US again. We're not all craven, Jesus freak, dickheads.

And, in the local front, I agreed yesterday to get involved editing a tiny monthly publication but only on condition that the current editor stay involved for another year. Then I am supposed to take over. (Aside to self: My god, what have I done?) I dreamt about it all morning. It will be okay.

And lastly, here are a few photos from the hundreds I've taken lately, out and about. Well, not entirely out and about. On second thought, three of them are through the window but you know what I mean.

Comma Coffee
worlds within worlds

Ragtag Death enters the Bird Park

Curious crow - loose feather

Silver City graveyard

And...

Ps. It is my considered opinion that Ayn Rand was a repulsive and fundamentally dishonest human being whose writings have spawned more harm in the world than good. But it does amuse me that she spoke for "Man". Her rosiness may as well have called "man", for whom she raised her shrill voice, "The Man".

Bo Diddley done gone

Crap. Bo Diddley died today. I grew up with his music. Bye-bye, Bo Diddley. See ya' further on down the line.

Local news at 5

Jimmy Chooey


I don't know what's up, but I'm about ready to scrap this blog and start fresh. The damn thing takes forever to load and I've wasted most of this fine Sunday afternoon trying to figure out why, with no success. Haloscan and YouTube are definitely slowing it down and I want to say right now, so there is no misunderstanding, I HATE HALOSCAN. When it first came out I thought it was really great but it slows the page load down, mine anyway, and you can not uninstall the fucking script. Fuck you, Haloscan. But right now the Blogger page elements take the longest, many minutes. Crazy. It has been gradually getting slower for a while now but today it's totally hung. "Waiting for Blogger". What a drag.

Sorry to waste space complaining like this. I think I'm pretty mellow, life on life's terms and all that, but crap like this throws me into a heart stopping rage. In frustration, I went out and pruned a bunch of dead wood out in the yard. It just happened to be the neighbor's tree. Somebody needed to do it. The guy whose tree it is sits in his garage smoking cigars and drinking most of the day. He's a great guy but has been undergoing chemo treatment on and off for last year or so and is really run down. Unfortunately, I went about things in my usual backwards fashion. After I snipped off a few egregious branches, I asked him if he'd like me to prune the thing. He said no. Said he'd do it later. We had the same conversation last year, after I pruned his the same tree. Does this mean I'm a bad person?

In other news, Jack's back. He's a sweet little dog who has lived at the shelter for over a year now then last Saturday we thought his angel had finally arrived. A guy from Tahoe met and adopted him, all in the same day. I heard this was in the works and went out the next day to say good-bye but Jack had already moved into his new, 4,000 sq. ft. home on the lake. Unfortunately, it proved to be too much, too soon. Two days later Jack was back. It's hard adjusting to life on the outside. Ask anyone who's been incarcerated. Next time, the shelter is going to make sure that Jack and his potential adopters spend time getting to know one another before taking the plunge. Makes sense. I wish they'd thought of it earlier.

We had a canine guest ourselves last week, alias Jimmy. He was dropped off at the shelter on Memorial Day but, officially it was closed. Luckily, a few of us volunteers were there walking the residents. I was elected to take Jimmy home for the night. I think he had a great time... at least he ate lots of cookies, slept on a soft rug. We took two long walks and he slept right next to me on the floor that night. In fact, at one point, I woke up because he was standing with his head on the mattress watching me. A really sweet fellow. When I took him in to the shelter the next day, the receptionist recognized him right away as Chooey, a previous shelter resident, and called the owner. The idiot hadn't bothered to give the poor, old guy an ID tag. I don't know what people think. Apparently nothing.