The Decider? God help us!

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George Bush reminded us all the other day that he's IN CHARGE! Not only is he a madman, the guy's a boob.

"I hear the voices, and I read the front page, and I know the speculation. But I'm the decider, and I decide what is best. And what's best is for Don Rumsfeld to remain as the secretary of defense."

"I read the front page"!?!? I realize that for Bubble Boy, even reading the front page is a big deal. Sadly, I don't believe he even does that.

I am fully convinced that Bush is fully capable and, as The Decider, almost certainly secretly planning a nuclear attack on Iran. Just as fundamentalist Muslims devote themselves to their Jihad, Bush is devoted to his Apocalypse and has proven himself to be a liar and traitor willing to do anything to achieve his ends. He is a truly dangerous fool but if we let him continue bulldozing the way for this insane fundamentalist crusade we have only ourselves to blame.

"There's an old saying in Tennessee ... I know it's in Texas, probably in Tennessee ... that says, fool me once, shame on ... shame on you. Fool me ...you can't get fooled again."

~—President George W. Bush, Nashville, Tenn., Sept. 17, 2002 (Listen to audio or watch the video)

Unfortunately, we have proven again and again that we are willing to be fooled again and again.


Come on. At least sign the petitions:
Oppose attack on Iran
True Majority Petition against invading Iran


bush iran nuclear war decider fundamentalism

Puppet's revolt

There's an excellent, short article about newspeak and framing at the Project for the OLD American Century, well worth a read if you're a conscious person, and especially if you're a writer.

Puppet theater - Mexico

George Lakoff wrote about framing in his book Don't Think of an Elephant. This is information the regressives have been using against us for a long time. If we want to get out from under their influence, it would help to look at how they pull the strings.

The Revolt Of The Puppets
Dedicated to C. J. Lovik "The Master Puppeteer"

Looked down upon my marionettes
with slumber in their eyes.
Saw them resting, lying still,
their silence no surprise,
Awaiting but my touch to bring
their footsteps to tomorrow,
Wanting for my hands to mold
the script they've got to follow.

Dressed in costumes finery,
jesters, queens and more,
I thought that they reminded me
of something seen before -
All the different sizes, shapes,
the colors, noses, smiles,
The capes, the cloaks and funny shirts
the peasants, princes, styles.

All so different, all the same,
singular in thought.
Belonging to that wooden thing
yes, fashioned by a block.
Ah! I stared, I looked at them,
I watched for quite some time
Thinking 'bout these wooden heads,
these marionettes of mine.
Then moving as by habit,
I picked up the wooden sticks
Held them in my well trained hands
a smile about my lips.
Pulled one string to another,
saw their footsteps fall.
Their rags, their robes a whirling
each and every, all.

I had now, awakened them,
awakened them from sleep.
Set the stage, the scenery
I made them laugh and weep.
I wrote my script, they gave it voice.
They made my words their home,
And you see they followed it
for they had none of their own.

And at home in sweet contentment
from the peasant to the queen.
They had nothing but their costumes,
their wood, their strings, the scene.
And tears fell for these little folks,
these tiny blocks of wood
Who acted out the parts they played
but never understood.
Never knew just why they spoke
the words that tumbled out,
never knew what made them do
the things they acted out.

And I the Puppeteer could see
and see too plainly still,
That these my precious little ones
would never get their fill.
Their fill of dancing and delight,
never tire of the string
Never tire of the theater,
me, or pretending everything.

It seemed they always would be mine
to control at will,
Destined to be the actors
of the master scriptor's skill.
Their wooden heads just pine blocks
to bend and bow for me,
And any other Puppeteer
who happened just like me.

And putting down the strings awhile
I fell into a sleep,
A sleep that seemed eternal,
fanciful and deep.
And it was while at slumber
wrapped in her throws, her calm
That I suddenly awakened,
to some witchcraft, some charm,
That left me dazed and wondering,
at the sight that lay ahead,
Left me somewhat puzzling
the things that time had said.

And looking 'bout the tiny room,
the theater, stage room floor,
I saw my puppets rising up
on their own unlike before.
They were moving unattended.
Their strings were held by someone
or something unseen by me,
Who didn't have to pull them
the puppets seemed to see,
As they played flute and drummer
and moved about the stage
Doing all the actions
of the dreamer and the age.
Following the measures
of a vision held within,
That at last had come to tell them
of their selves, their songs therein.

And playing their own music,
dancing their own step,
They filled me with a wonder,
enchanted me and yet -
The Puppeteer had fallen,
had lost his place in time.
Replaced by something breathing,
the living and their rhyme.

They were thinking, feeling
living entities, these folks
Turning in eternity
their sea, the words they spoke.
And they were they and I was I,
a puppeteer no more
Nothing like the prophet, prince,
that I had been before.
Perhaps self righteous, sometimes fool,
maybe one more than the other
An overseeing, puppet being,
wooden, plastered mother.

Enchantment came, a joy, a peace,
a beautiful new scene,
That had taken away sorrow
and made the real a dream.
And then all too soon it ended.
I awoke and looked once more,
Upon the marionettes, those tiny babes
asleep on the stage floor.

Indeed, they had revolted
either then or sometime when
But I can't ponder over it
I am what I have been
A Puppeteer, A Puppeteer,
to control their land.
To control their lives and paths
with but my touch, my hand.


~ Linda A. Copp

newspeak regressives framing language

Generals vs. Rumsfeld

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Rumsfeld and Bush must go!
Cheney too!

So what if Bush endorses Rumsfeld and Cheney backs Bush? Naturally these bastards defend each other. It's their dirty daisy chain. Hitler backed Himmler. So what? They were equally evil.

Even Bush, who lives in a bubble, knows that if Rumsfeld goes down he himself is much more in danger of being held accountable for his crimes. Of course he's wants Rummy is on the stump, waving his hands around.

Naturally the mercenary Senate and Congress doesn't challenge the scum in the White House. Abramoff may be in jail but they are all still humping for a piece of the corporate war profiteer's pie.







rumsfeld bush generals current events

Second hand salvation

The Christians are celebrating their bloody, vampire "salvation" with special pomp again this Easter weekend. The old lady who runs the thrift store was completely nuts over it. She's always hopped up on who knows what anyway but today she was so jacked she was bellowing hello and Happy Easter in every direction like a crazed minister ejaculating blessings upon his flock. At one point she raved at the top of her voice to everyone and no one about the pure white robe she's wearing in the Easter pageant tomorrow. Now I'm all for freedom of and more importantly from religion but am always annoyed by this woman and her intrusive, fat-faced, presumptuous, evangelical, amphetamine smile, plus the prices there are way too high, sometimes more than new, but she can rock till she pops as far as I'm concerned. I found the 1990 "Paris Review Anthology" today for a buck, perfect condition.

Fatty Leland's moving day

When Mr. Lee checked in the kitchen this morning, there was (not so) Fatty Leland looking up at him. The Smart Mouse trap worked the first night. I bought it through the PETA website (search for "humane mouse trap). That is one big easy green door! As it turned out, Fatty Leland wasn't fat at all or afraid. He was tiny and curious. And cute. I have to admit it did briefly occur to me that perhaps it would be nice to keep him as a pet but only for a moment. So, though there may still be a fat Fatty Leland around somewhere, the news of the day is that Fatty Leland has joined the other Lelands out at the willow grove.

Whenever I take new mice to the river they scatter in a second, the only exception being one little fellow who jumped head first into the tiny water cup inside the trap. He butted it 3 or 4 times before realizing what the problem was. Fatty Leland on the other hand did not instantly flee when I opened the trap "Door of Freedom". He ambled out and explored his new world, after all ... mouse genius.

I always bring a pile of goodies when I leave off new mice, a little send-off feast. I suppose by now, given how many trips I've made, the Lelands must think I do a mouse Meals on Wheels.

If you watch carefully you can follow Fatty Leland at the end hopping away through the grass.

Tonight Fatty Leland

The smart mouse house Mr. Lee found at PETA arrived today, just what we need to catch Fatty Leland the mouse genius who, it seems, is too fat to squeeze into Tin Mouse Buffet.

Mouse report

I've taken 6 more mice out to the river in the last few days but Fatty Leland still runs free. Last night I caught him trying to open a box of ginger cake mix in the pantry. Our fingers/paws actually touched when I picked up the box but he got away. One of these days, Fatty Leland. One of these days!


Anyway, I took some photos when I was at the river. Goldie the dog was along. Her humans run a wedding chapel up at Lake Tahoe and all 3 of them are very genteel. Scrubbing around on the rocks and wading in the river with me was a wild adventure for her.

It's movie time

...but quickly...

here's a great, fun link Fall Down Six Times, get up seven. Hilarious worst case scenario, ridiculous best case scenario and 4 more wacky but oddly compelling points of view. Well worth a read.

Also a little reminder...with summer coming on don't forget your sun block.

Sun lover on Venice beach

95% moon

I just went to bed a few minutes ago then remembered that the small dish of peanuts I put out at twilight for the lovely young magpie was still sitting on the ground. I had to go out and put it away. I don't want to encourage the early birds. They are too noisy, too early. This particular magpie, on the other hand, came by in the evening a couple of days ago and happened upon a plate of French fries I'd put out late in the day. She managed to eat nearly all of them before night settled in. So she came back this evening. I was delighted and put the peanuts out after she left in hopes she'd make a second swoop but no. Perhaps she'll be back and next time I hope to have a treat waiting.

When I was out I noticed the 95% moon or so it looks from earth tonight. The bird park is bathed in its cool light. That word "bathed" gets used a lot by people describing Moon's effect. Sorry for the cliche but it is very accurate and at the moment I'm grateful for the obvious. Momentarily washed by it. Cleansed. Relieved of the world's stain. It's how I felt when I was outside and how I still feel back here, inside, looking at this blazing monitor, writing these words. Through the bare window at my left the light is currently obliterated but the 95% moon is out there. When I turn off the machine and my eyes grow accustom to the night again, I shall again see the world sleeping in that pale sliver glow. I need the night.