Hasta la vista, Hillary

Bye-bye, Hillary. You made history as a woman. You are history as a politician.

Ps. That's what you get for using Rove's dirty play book.

I was recently banned from commenting on Huffingtonpost. NOT because I swear more. Actually, I don't. And I don't make personal attacks on other commenters. Obviously, somebody has it in for me. Perhaps the grammar police? The last comment to make it past the censors at Huffpo contained bad grammar. M. Lee? (I swear, if I left a suicide note with incorrect grammar, spelling or punctuation, he would red pencil it and send it back). He thinks it's great I got banned. That I'll stop wasting time there. But I do love the fray. Ah well. The result is that, at least until I get addicted to another website, I am going to (occasionally) post comments here. How this differs from the rants category, I can't exactly say but it is different.

N ya cain't ban meh. Take that, censors... !@#! HA!


Huffington Post Hillary

Yay! Grumpy gets a home

I shouldn't call him Grumpy. The dude is from circumstance but that only makes this even BIGGER GOOD NEWS. This weekend Scotty, the grumpy little terrier, moved out of the shelter and in with his loving new family Ingrid, Lucifer and Mimi.



Well, Ingrid is loving. Lucifer and Mimi? Everyone knows it takes cats time to warm up to anybody, especially if that "anybody" is some fellow who decides to confiscate their bed.



This is all too, too sweet because Scotty is ... well ...was... you know, could be a bit of a grouch at the shelter but Ingrid knew that before she adopted him. The wonder of love. I'll bet that soon Scotty will be soooooo mellow even the cats will cuddle up with him.


Letter from Ingrid below:

Hello Ursula,

So far, so good. After Scotty's second walk (shortly after 7PM), he is finally napping. You'll be happy to know that the little fellow settled in quite nicely. All day he followed me around like, well, a dog (smile). He really enjoys having the run of the backyard. He's protecting me against birds and outside cats, and he also is a terrific watchdog, barking a bit when he sensed someone moving about in the yard back of the neighboring house. He stopped as soon as I said no. Good dog, eh? When I had a bite to eat, I learned that he is a little beggar. He also told Lucifer and Mouche, in no uncertain terms, that they should stay away when there's food around. He really hurt poor Lucifer's feelings, poor thing went into hiding for the rest of the afternoon. And my kitten is still camped out under the bed. I had to put Scotty outside before Lucifer and Mimi could be persuaded to come out of their hiding places. Not to worry, though, things will settle down. This is, after all, only day one. I'm afraid Mr. Scotty had a few too many treats today; he didn't eat too much of his dinner. Or, perhaps, it's because he was fed in the morning at the shelter? He is currently sound asleep on the cat bed under my computer table. I think he has tried almost every bed in the house. And you know what else he did? He jumped up on the sofa and almost got on my lap. Almost. There also has been a lot of tail wagging. I think he likes it here.

We'll have to try to take a few more photos on Thursday, yes? Everyone can relax. He is adjusting to his new surroundings amazingly fast.

Thank you and all the D.A.W.G. volunteers for having done such an excellent job of rehabilitating, nursing back to health, and socializing Scotty. I'll do my best to provide a good, safe home for him.

Tschüß, Ingrid

Sleep tight, Scotty

RIP Eight Belles

Three-year old Eight Belles, moments
before being killed after she broke her
two front ankles in the Kentucky Derby.


I don't know what Eight Belles means to her owners but according to Wikipedia, "eight bells is a way of saying that a sailor's watch is over, for instance, in his or her obituary. It's a nautical euphemism for "finished". For the three-year old filly Eight Belles, her end was yesterday's Kentucky Derby after her stunning, second place victory resulted in BOTH her front ankles breaking. She was put down where she fell and I am outraged.

After her death, her trainer Larry Jones, told the media, "They put their life on the damn line. She was glad to do it." Bullshit, Larry! You are blinded by self-centeredness.

Three-year old BARBARO, fatally
injured in the Kentucky Derby, 2006

For however much this beautiful filly might have "loved to run", she is another victim of brutal, greed driven cruelty. Horse racing is just another example of how we exploit animals for our special "entertainment." It's touted as the "sport of kings" (only because it takes a king's ransom to foot the cost) but I rank right it right along with dog racing, cock fights, horse fights (a favorite in China), bull fights, circuses, zoos, and the rest of the animal entertainment industry and so-called "sports" which depend on us ruthlessly cross-wiring the animal's talents with the most basic instinct, one we all share, fight or flight. We provoke, force, train, taunt, strain, whip, starve and beat animals into extreme reactions to extreme conditions ... for our profit and amusement, not because the animals want to sacrifice themselves for us.

We bet on their lives. They always lose. Not just the ones culled early in the game, the ones discarded like trash before they ever make it to the limelight. "Winner" or "loser", none of them end well. What's with us? Seems to me, when all our other excuses fail, we use religion to dignify our cruelty and greed. "Dominion over the animals"? My ass. I agree with Ghandi, "The greatness of a nation and its morals can be judged by the way its animals are treated". About her death, winning jockey Kent Desormeaux said, "Eight Belles showed you her life for our enjoyment today. I'm deeply sympathetic to that team for their loss." Not my pleasure, bub. Rest in peace, baby girl.


Barbaro's fatal fall

The Rescue
by Robert Creeley


The man sits in a timelessness
with the horse under him in time
to a movement of legs and hooves
upon a timeless sand.

Distance comes in from the foreground
present in the picture as time
he reads outward from
and comes from that beginning.

A wind blows in
and out and all about the man
as the horse ran
and runs to come in time.

A house is burning in the sand.
A man and horse are burning.
The wind is burning.
They are running to arrive.

The Horseracing Industry: Drugs, Deception, and Death

Eight Belles Barbaro Kentucky Derby horse racing

Between the cracks

Yesterday was the day we were supposed to leave for Central America. Lucky we postponed the trip. Good thing with my broken back. Not a good time to go backpacking. And the fracture is just part of the problem. My spine is messed up. The doctor asked me several times what in the world I did to end up in this condition. Really messed up. At the time I didn't have an answer. I have always jokingly claimed my problem came from chopping wood and carrying water after enlightenment, "after" being the joke but I don't think anyone ever got it. It never elicited more than a blank stare. But, looking at my old MRI, seems this fracture occurred sometime in the last three years. Who knows? But it's just the latest in a long list of problems. I have to do a couple more tests before we come up with a treatment plan but looks like my summer's shaping up. How about yours?

The other day, in the wee hours of the morning, before I'd even opened my eyes, I started going over the what, where and why of it. Actually, it's a bit complicated but chopping wood and carrying water did play a part. Why I chopped wood and carried water and tubs of laundry through a mud field daily played another. The where and when was during my days at Madhuvan on the Krsna commune in West Virginia. I don't have the time or energy to go into it today. I'm feeling rushed and scattered but I did google up an article on Madhuvan if you want read a bit about that. It's from the Brijabasi Spirit, the same old magazine I used to write for way back then. It's online now, like everything else. We used to mimeograph it. We even bought a letterpress to print it on, which is harder than cranking a mimeo machine and thus worth more devotional credit, but the farm hand devotees didn't like us press devotees and when they delivered it to Vahna's house, instead of lowering it carefully off the flatbed, they pushed it off and it broke into, not a million pieces, but nevertheless couldn't, or shall I say the blacksmith devotees, wouldn't put it back together again.


Then again.... maybe one of my kids have been playing hopscotch .... hhhhhummmmmmmm.......

Bicycle Day revisited or RIP Albert Hofmann?

Kumar's apartment bldg, NYC

According to a not yet now confirmed rumor on Reddit, Dr. Albert Hofmann, the inventor of LSD, who celebrated his 102nd birthday this last January, is dead. 102. Imagine that! If so RIP, Dr. Hofmann. Bon voyage and thanks again!

"In answer to my inquiry about the sourse of the news, a commenter replied that he learned of Hofmann's death in a personal email from Rick Doblin, head of MAPS (Multidisciplinary Association for Psychedelic Studies). Doblin wrote him that, "Albert had a heart attack at 9am at home and died a swift, painless death. RIP." I guess if anyone, Doblin is in a position to know.

Whatever the case, naturally I got to thinking about the good old days, especially in New York during the '60's when Tim Leary's old friend and former colleague, Ralph Metzner, brought us boxes of tiny vials of beautiful liquid amber LSD direct from Sandoz Lab in Switzerland, where Hofmann worked when he invented it, to Kumar's tiny apartment on W. 14th. Sacrament. It was great for a while but eventually it got complicated. You know how that goes. So.... anyway....

In honor of Dr. Hofman's discovery and the unending task/adventure of reducing ego and expanding consciousness, here's a recounting of his, the First Trip, otherwise known as Bicycle Day" (via Wikipedia).

Dr. Albert Hofmann holding a model of the LSD molecule

Bicycle Day

On April 19, Dr. Hofmann intentionally ingested 250 micrograms of LSD, which he hypothesized would be a threshold dose, based on other ergot alkaloids. After ingesting the substance Hofmann was struggling to speak intelligibly and asked his laboratory assistant, who knew of the self-experiment, to escort him home on his bicycle, due to the lack of available vehicles during wartime restrictions. On the bicycle ride home, Hofmann's condition became more severe and in his journal he stated that everything in his field of vision wavered and was distorted, as if seen in a curved mirror. Hofmann also stated that while riding on the bicycle, he had the sensation of being stationary, unable to move from where he was, despite the fact that he was moving very rapidly. Once Hofmann arrived safely home, he summoned a doctor and asked his neighbor for milk, believing it may help relieve the symptoms. Hofmann wrote that despite his delirious and bewildered condition, he was able to choose milk as a nonspecific antidote for poisoning. Upon arriving the doctor could find no abnormal physical symptoms other than extremely dilated pupils. After spending several hours terrified that his body had been possessed by a demon, that his next door neighbor was a witch, and that his furniture was threatening him, Dr. Hofmann feared he had become completely insane. In his journal Hofmann said that the doctor saw no reason to prescribe medication and instead sent him to his bed. At this time Hofmann said that the feelings of fear had started to give way to feelings of good fortune and gratitude, and that he was now enjoying the colors and plays of shapes that persisted behind his closed eyes. Hofmann mentions seeing "fantastic images" surging past him, alternating and opening and closing themselves into circles and spirals and finally exploding into colored fountains and then rearranging themselves in a constant flux. Hofmann mentions that during the condition every acoustic perception, such as the sound of a passing automobile, was transformed into optical perceptions. Eventually Hofmann slept and upon awakening the next morning felt refreshed and clearheaded, though somewhat physically tired. He also stated that he had a sensation of well being and renewed life and that his breakfast tasted unusually delicious. Upon walking in his garden he remarked that all of his senses were "vibrating in a condition of highest sensitivity, which then persisted for the entire day".

Update: In case you're interested, here is an extended quote from Rick Doblin's email.

"Albert died at home at 9 AM Basel time from a myocardial infarction, quick and relatively painless. Two caretakers were there with him at the time. The only people who were told were people from Burg, the village where he lived, and Peter and others were surprised the word of his death had gotten out so quickly. It's the age of the internet...

Albert had been increasingly thinking of death these last few months. He had stopped leaving his home, where he said he could feel the spirit of Anita, his wife who died December 20, 2007. He didn't come to the World Psychedelic Forum a month ago, but did entertain some visitors at his home. We spoke on the phone the day after the Basel conference and he was happy and fulfilled. He'd seen the renewal of LSD psychotherapy research with his own eyes, as had Anita. I said that I looked forward to discussing the results of the study with him in about a year and a half and he laughed and said he'd try to help the research however he could, either from this side or "the other side".

Now it even more falls on younger generations to transform LSD into a legal medicine and beyond that into a tool for personal growth legally available to all."

Rick

Source here.



Albert Hofmann LSD Bicycle Day RIP, Albert

Desert walk

Yesterday a friend and I went out to the local, very cool, no-kill animal shelter and walked a couple of the dogs. The place is located near the dump and recycling center so a lot of junk blows out of trucks headed for the place. Marie's like me. Can't stand seeing trash in nature so along the way we picked a couple of bags out the sage and managed to stuff them until they were overflowing with garbage. Very satisfying.

Garbage houndsBob is a great sport and enjoyed picking up trash every bit as much as we did.

Link and I examine an abandoned but very handy construction.
What is it? A combined hitching post/wilderness bench/hay storage?

Desert spring

Crossroad

WWFSMD?

Seems to me America has outgrown the two party system. Watching Obama and Clinton duke it out, I'd say the Dems are split beyond repair, which conveniently takes the heat off the Repubs who are themselves only held together by the tattered posters of McCain plastered over their numerous rifts, ruptures, schisms, scandals, war crimes, high crimes and misdemeanors.

Don't get me wrong. I'm not trying convince you of anything but I do assume that a savvy person such as yourself is, at least in part, as weary as I of this political charade. What the hell? Let the shards fall where they will. I think the differences between the Progressive and Corporate points of view are irreconcilable and make no mistake ... for however many shots she knocks back at the local bar while the press is watching, Clinton represents the Corporate Elite not We, the People.

Sinkin' down

The Cheney/Bushwackers have abandoned America at the legendary crossroads where they made their deal with the Devil. Both McCain and Clinton, Neocon and Neocon Lite, are determined to consummate the deal. I can only hope that Obama actually does represent CHANGE and that he gets elected. We need to reclaim our collective American soul from the deal makers and war profiteers, the torturers and hedge fund traitors, and the rest of the power elite who would trade it finally and forever to secure their "Bottom Line Billions". But not to worry. If nothing else, the planet itself will pull us up short. Something is gonna' give.


Robert Johnson - CROSSROAD

Hillary's lament

A sad, must see response to Hillary's ad
3 AM in Hillary's Neighborhood

01:47

In case you missed Hillay's whine* about how she is currently the victim of a vast left wing conspiracy, here's what she had to say about people outside her neocon lite Beltway clique:

"Moveon.org endorsed [Sen. Barack Obama] -- which is like a gusher of money that never seems to slow down," Clinton said to a meeting of donors. "We have been less successful in caucuses because it brings out the activist base of the Democratic Party. MoveOn didn't even want us to go into Afghanistan. I mean, that's what we're dealing with. And you know they turn out in great numbers. And they are very driven by their view of our positions, and it's primarily national security and foreign policy that drives them. I don't agree with them. They know I don't agree with them. So they flood into these caucuses and dominate them and really intimidate people who actually show up to support me."

*Audio clip at Huffingpost

Excuse me now while I go flip MoveOn another two bucks.

Back breaking labors

I'm at Comma Coffee for the moment, relaxing after a Dr.'s appointment. Seems I've been walking around with a fractured spine for a while. Makes sense. I eat an awful lot of Ibuprofen and Tylenol. Yum. Next I have to see a specialist about possible surgery. Better not interfere with our plans to dog sit this summer while my brother and his wife are in London. Three weeks in Seattle! I won't give that up lightly. So anyway...

More photos from the Tonopah graveyard from our recent trip. A fascinating place, history in the nude. The Great State of Nevada was settled by immigrants from all over the world who came seeking their fortune.

Most lived hard, short lives.

The people who settle in Tonopah were no exception.

Given that Area 51 is next door,
you never know who you'll meet in Tonopah
or even which time frame they're from...
past, present or FUTURE.

So, what the hell? For good measure I'm throwing in a UFO video for your viewing pleasure. The narrator claims it could be the "most important video in the history of mankind." Too bad the dummy mispronounces the word Nevada.


Interview with an Alien

10:00

Mo's happy ending

After two years at the shelter, and a lot of love and work, Mo finally got adopted yesterday by one of the volunteers at DAWG, the animal shelter  where I also enjoy the privilege of taking walks in the desert with some of the four-legged residents and enjoying their soothing company. It was a happy ending for a poor fellow who just happened to be at the wrong place at the wrong time, doing what pit bulls do so well, fighting to the finish.

A few years ago Mo and Joe found themselves in some serious trouble but, thanks to a network of compassionate people, neither were put down. Instead Joe went to the Reno shelter and Mo lived at the no-kill shelter here. Ironically, most people in America who make mistakes end up in the human "justice" system that humiliates, undermines and better prepares them for more of the same. By their release, many are more desperate and angry than when they came in. Not so for Mo. DAWG volunteers and trainers help animals change their attitude and outlook for the better so Sunday, after a big farewell party at the shelter, Mo began his new life with people who love and know how to provide a safe, sane environment for a pit. For the better part of two years, volunteers simply sat in Mo's cage and read out loud to him. In the beginning, he ran outside as huddled at the far end of his run but the reader kept reading. No one tried to touch him. No one raised their voice to him. They read as Mo huddled and gradually he shortened the distance until, finally, he stood listening at the door. And still the reading went on, with an occasional, "Hello, Mo. Whose a good boy?"

It was a long time yet before Mo would let anyone touch him but finally he did and those few people were finally able to take him for walks in the yard. And so it went. Love and patience won. Today, Mo went home with his new family to his new, forever home.

It seemed to me that Mo was more eager to get out the door and on with it than party, but we humans are a sentimental lot. People that worked with him over the last two years needed "closure" so Mo dutifully sniffed his gifts and pretended to be interested as his humans opened them for him. And he gulped a few treats while people laughed and downed cup cakes and ice cream. Then, finally, Mo when home.






This morning, Mo's family emailed everyone photos from the party and a detailed account of his first day. If you aren't already saturated with cloying sweetness, give it a read. Sounds like Mo is one grateful, happy pooch.

Saying good-bye to the girl at the front desk

Letter from Mo and Family.

Just wanted to thank everyone that came today for Mo's send off and also anyone that wasn't able to attend that has love in their heart for him. I was overwhelmed with all the gifts. Mo and all of us thank you soooooo much. He has been so good. He had his nose right up to the air conditioner almost the whole trip home. (I think he prefers my Honda to ride in as it's easier for him to see out of.) As soon as I got him home Ron's youngest son, Jake and I got him into the shower and started to get him clean. He was being very good so I ran to get the camera and when I got back there was water all over the floor and there he was wagging his tail so hard against the wall that the tip of his tail was bleeding a little. We got him back in and rinsed off. Jake walked him around for awhile then I got him and we laid on the floor together for awhile (of course with all kinds of kisses from him) I think I'll have to invest in a plug in air freshener as he is very prone to gas. He paid little attention to the birds so maybe when we are home he can be in the living room with them (as long as they are in their cages as I don't want to take a chance). Then Mo spent some time in his pen with Ron working on the doggie door. I went out to take him for a pottie break and he didn't want to stay out long and dragged me back inside the house. I had him on the leash and sat on the couch and he jumped up and was rubbing on the couch putting his nose between the cushions and had a great big grin on his face. Ron sat down and Mo went back and forth between us almost standing on his head at times he was being so crazy and happy. Then all at once he stopped and immediately fell asleep. He kept hogging all the couch so I finally sat on the floor. He looked so happy and contented. Well that's it for now. It was such a great day. Thanks again. Nancy

Rupert Murdoch freaks out

Usually things that are too good to be true are too good to be true. I really hope this one beats the odds. Could it be? If so, the guys at Manhattan Media offer us a truly rare peek into the dragon's lair.


Murdoch freaks out


00:40

The Huffpo article claims it's a fake Murdoch in the video but the guy looks like Murdoch to me. My take is that "My Wall Street Journal" is a Murdoch publication. Otherwise, why the black set? And isn't it interesting that Murdoch "just happens" to position the paper perfectly for the camera to pick up? Also, it seems to me that the sound quality is too good for a cell phone with which, I assume, this "secret" video was captured. And the guy recording it? Wouldn't he be at the bottom of the river instead posting his catch on YouTube? Now, I feel like a chump for even publishing this the stupid thing but what the hell? It's Monday. So what do you think? Real or fake?

HIPPIES

Tonopah in the spring.


Here are a few more photos from my stay in Tonopah last weekend. I have to do this on the fly so will post more later, for the record. I realize that you are all wondering what's new in Tonopah, the town that is rotting in the sun, blowing away in the wind. I will tell you...

HIPPIES of Tonopah

The note in the window reads, "HIPPIE: I waited for 1 1/2 hrs to pick up my cigarettes. You can't make any money if your closed. Ken". Right. I bet Ken wanted to buy "cigarettes". Hippie never did show up but I pressed my camera to the glass and got photos of what's inside.










HIPPIES of Tonopah, town's newest boutique


01:51


I hope HIPPIES is open the next time we blow through town. I'd like to get a better peek inside plus I'd like to meet the guy but more likely he will already be out of business.

Lunch among the crows

Before I post more from Tonopah, here's a new clip from the Bird Park. The crow prefers to eat from a dish, in a civilized manner, but he is not too sure about the other guy.

Lunch among crows

01:14

Birthday blues

My sister emailed this photo today of our Dad and Mom on his 56th birthday. She's good like that. My brother wrote back that Dad's big round head make him think of Charlie Brown. He was a Charlie Brown, not only in looks but personality though, prompted by my Norwegian pride, I must add... HARD WORKER. A Charlie Brown who made it work anyway. And a good Dad. Andy. Note the giant hands. First generation from Norway. North Dakota homestead raised. Sixth grade education. Quit during plowing time that year. Too much work to ever go back. Married. Loved her big tits. She always said she married him for his dimple. Migrated to Seattle. Steel business. Worked his way up from shipyard welder to plant owner. Raged against slick and sleazy business partners. "Too honest", he would complain. Proved you can't take the country out of the boy. Today would be his 97th, had he lived. Not unreasonable, given that he came from a line of long-lived Norwegians. Grandma made it to 98.

Like my sister wrote, they were so young. Looks like my mother has already enjoyed a birthday toast or two. Ironically, spread before him a feast made up of things that called his early death ... a cube of butter, a platter of flesh, a brimming glass of whole milk and a luscious fat-filled sugary cake. Not pictured: cigarettes and booze. Not included: regular exercise. If only they knew then what we know now, they might both be alive to celebrate this day with us.

Nim Chimpsky

Here is a sad story about a chimp named Nim who, for a brief bright time in his too short life, lived like a boy. I wish this post were an April Fool's joke, but it's not.

Nim Chimpsky

Nim after the funding ran out.

“Humanity's true moral test, its fundamental test, consists of its attitude toward those who are at its mercy: animals. And in this respect, human kind has suffered a fundamental debacle, a debacle so fundamental that all others stem from it.” ~Milan Kundera, The Unbearable Lightness of Being

Central America

As some of you missed an earlier post on the subject, thought I'd mention again that we had to postpone our trip to Central America, this after we purchased the airline tickets. The reason is that over the last year and a half, M. Lee has been laying the groundwork for a business proposal and, naturally, his lawyers just informed him that, at this point, he has to be available should his presence be required in court. He could have postponed the proceedings until after the trip but then we'd be in its shadow the whole time. This way, either way, it's done and we can go celebrate or lick our wounds. So it goes. We're hoping to go in the fall, i.e. hurricane season instead of malaria season.

But we are trying out our new backpacks this weekend. Just a short trip to Oregon. However, I will be forced to cheat because I must bring the laptop, a luxury that will be denied me when we go south. One should not rush austerity.

Life in the desert

Here are a few photos from my recent walk with a couple of shelter dogs. This next disheveled place was perhaps once a lean-to someone built for themselves. Sadly, they violated the first rule of home making. Even birds know it. I realize the details are not very clear but can you guess what the rule is? Here's a hint. That blue in the corner is not fallen pieces of sky.

Next, Capt. Jack and I came across this interesting skeleton, perhaps the remains of a coyote complete with what may well be it's dying crap. It seems there's a theme developing here but it's not my intention to gross you out. I simply want to share the walk with you.

Eva (aka Mama) enjoying a moment in the sun away from her puppies but she didn't want to leave them for long. I have developed a new appreciation for pit bulls and pit mixes since I started volunteering at the shelter. Mama is absolutely as sweet as they come.

I'll be watching you

So what's so bad if our personal information is available to the public, government and corporate sectors, you know... things like our shopping habits, vacation history, magazine subscriptions, library and medical records, entertainment choices ... all that stuff? Get a load of what the Bush neoconservatives setting up behind our backs while we're busy living our lives. Forward to 01:21 in this video.

A short, entertaining portrayal of the new consumer environment at 01:21
or
for a peak at just who really have THE MONEY: 1:10:34

The lyrics of this song by Sting are particularly chilling in the information age:

Every breath you take
And every move you make
Every bond you break, every step you take
I'll be watching you

Every single day
And every word you say
Every game you play, every night you stay
I'll be watching you

America: Freedom to Fascism

Dreaming you too