Sam Bacile's gift to the world

TRIPOLI, Libya, Sept. 11, 2012 -- The U.S. ambassador to Libya and three other Americans were killed in an attack on the U.S. consulate in Benghazi by protesters angry over a film that ridiculed Islam's Prophet Muhammad.

Hate monger Sam Bacile, a 56-year-old California real estate developer who identifies himself as an Israeli Jew and who said he produced, directed and wrote the two-hour film, "Innocence of Muslims," said he had not anticipated such a furious reaction. This cowardly bastard is now "in hiding" while others pay for his little exposé with their lives.
 

***

Update: Just for the record, as searches on the subject direct people to this post, "Sam Bacile" is one of the many aliases for Nakoula Basseley Nakoula a convicted felon from Cerritos, California. Nakoula and Joseph Nassralla Abdelmasih, the president of the Duarte-based charity Media for Christ, emerged Thursday as forces behind "Innocence of Muslims", the low-budget film which incited violence in recent days across the Arab world.

Hustler's million dollar bounty on Romney

Two at a time

As always, the Seven O'clock Magpie, was the first to discover we are back and for a few golden days she had all the peanuts and kibble to herself. Those first two days, she didn't even eat it all. But not so this morning. This morning the tribe showed up and gobbled everything in minutes. I am impressed that now most of them are expert at grabbing two peanuts per swoop. It wasn't always so.

Optical illusion or pearl of light?

Most of Tonopah is below ground.

Outhouse behind Mizpah Hotel.
Note the TP still on the roll.

On the surface, streets and buildings

Rm. 501
Outdoor spotlights shining into our room
made sleep the first night nearly impossible.

rest precariously on twisting, overlapping,

Keeping out the light.

intersecting mazes of miner's tunnels

"Pearl" or glitch?
That white dot isn't in the other
other photos I took of the curtain.

miles and miles long.

Lady in Red's "pearl" or optical illusion?

They are the real Tonopah.

Last Dance in Tonopah

It's that time in Tonopah again.

I assume the small chairs in the lobby are for
the ghost children who are said to haunt the hotel.

But this time it's the last time. At least for now. I'm really going to miss this place. It's been a long run.

Main Street at night.

But the Mizpah is (finally) open so, for this last and final trip, we've got a room there. It's a good farewell. I've been photographing the place for years while it was closed and shuttered. I never thought I'd actually get inside, much less stay there.

Open at last.

We're on the 5th floor, right next to the room of the Lady in Red. As the story goes, she was strangled just outside our door. That was in the 1920s and ever since people have reported that she still walks the hallways and occasionally leaves a pearl from her broken necklace on a pillow. No disrespect, but I'll let you know if anything strange happens.

Baby Frank, chillin' under the apple tree

Holy cow! He's already nine days old.

Baby Frank, four days old.

We had a great visit in Portland. In fact, it was about as perfect as it gets; perfect weather, great fun with the kids, grown-ups, dogs and Willie Nelson the Cat, sweet sweet just picked tomatoes and other vegetables right out of the garden for family dinners under Thea Bella's old apple tree and in Big Boy Leo and Baby Frank's backyard.

Leo & Thea ride the red wagon

Every now and then the stars line up and this was just one of those times. Happy happy Birth Day, Frank and may you enjoy many many more.

Baby Frank

Beautiful moon face Baby Frank made it into the world on the 28th. We had some concern the day before as he was overdue and had begun swallowing meconium. That can lead to even fatal complications but he's fine. And Leo is adapting nicely to his new role as big brother. Whew.

Irish President Michael D Higgins gives right wing DJ a good old fashioned country ass-whooping

M. Lee forwarded me this link from Boing Boing. It's pure pleasure hearing Ireland's President Michael D. Higgins lay into right wing DJ Michael Graham.



I fucking love this guy!

Baby watch 2012

PORTLAND
We arrived today yesterday Friday.

Leo and Thea "cheesing".

Thea and Leo keep everybody busy, busy, busy.

Uncle Jack dug the ancient accordion out of the garage.

Today was Frank's due day but no baby yet.

London dog

One thing I loved about London, dogs are permitted on public transportation.



There are some restrictions but, in general, if you can carry your dog up and down the escalators and they are well behaved, then they can ride.



This fellow was having a great time. I'm not sure all the passengers were amused but some were, including me.



That is all.

Hemp Expo

I snapped this photo the other day from the bike trail near Central Point. Good old Oregon! In case you're wondering, I'm for legalizing all drugs. Legalize, tax and regulate.

Good old Oregon. Always in the forefront.

It's not a moral issue although people who are unrealistic and/or uninformed and/or proud and/or churchy busybodies and/or flat out stupid still, against all evidence to the contrary, insist on thinking so. Drug use is not going away. Prohibition just does not work. Never has. Never will! It makes matters worse. Ask any prison guard. Corrupt governments (insert gov. of choice here), cartels, mafias, drug dealers and street gangs of every size and description FUCKING LOVE prohibition because guarantees astronomical profits. So, happy expo!

Coming soon.... FRANK!

We are back in So. Oregon for a few days then heading to Portland for the Big Event. "Baby" Leo is about to get a new brother. He and cousin Thea are very intrigued by it all.

Counting on autopay

I hassled most of the morning sorting out my utility bills. Most are autopay but my records were in the rears. That was bad enough, then there's the Gardnerville trash bill. The city of G'ville doesn't trust autopay. Way too fandangled for them. Customers have to use the most arcane system known to humankind .... memory. Yes. Yes. I have a reminder on my phone but I didn't have cell service in London or Paris so I forgot I even brought the damn thing, the battery died and my reminder along with it.

But before we left, remembering I have a horrible memory, I paid the trash bill in advance. But I forgot that, didn't I? So then I paid it again at the end of June. It's only due every three months but I forgot that too, so then I had credit. But  I didn't realize it. So, this morning, not having an amount to go by, I paid the bill again and added extra for good measure. Then, well then I panicked even further, thought I'd paid the wrong entity, and called the office.

Good ol' Marie answered. She and I have talked many times since the idiots down at city hall nixed autopay. I am now paid up into next year. I hope I remember that. And btw, Marie is always very nice, friendly, helpful...in case any of you retrograde nincompoops are reading this.

So M. Lee sent me this happy little video this morning which I would like to dedicate to Marie.

Another torn page

I posted a new excerpt at my poetry blog, anna sadhorse. I realize calling it an excerpt is pretty vague. Excerpt from what? At this point, it's nothing more than a page torn from the little black notebook I always carry. I hesitate to call it a poem. Maybe it's a bit from the autobiography I plan to write someday.

Curiosity lands!!!

Woo-hoo!
Hey Seven O'clock!
Hey Minerva!
We just flew to Mars!

Morning on rue Ordener?

A crow woke me this morning. Unwilling to open my eyes, I lay in bed trying to sort out where I was. Crows, lots of them, live in nearby Montmartre Cemetery but I could not remember any hanging out on rue Ordener.

The very watchful crows of Monmartre cemetery

In 1882, Monsieur Ruggieri of the world famous Lacroix-Ruggieri, masters in the art of pyrotechnics, aka the "Painters of Heaven", exploded fireworks in a vacant lot on rue Ordener. In 1911, the world's first robbery using a car occurred on rue Ordener. During the 1950s, former French president Nicolas Sarkozy grew up at 100 rue Ordener.

Our very gracious belle amie, Karen.
Dinner party on rue Ordener.
Paris but not champagne.

The highly respected Professor of Singing Madame Charlot, lived at 189 rue Ordener until her death in 2004. Her apartment was only two doors away from ours and our belle ami Karen currently lives on rue Ordener just one block in the other direction. There is also a fresco over 200 meters long on rue Ordener and, sadly, a madwoman has made her home on a concrete slab along rue Ordener for at least the last 10 years. People give her all kinds of things, money, cigarettes, food, reading material etc., but she refuses efforts to get her off the street so there she lives. That's Paris.

Madwoman of rue Ordener

But crows on rue Ordener? While undoubtedly they do drop by from time to time, gradually the fact that I had seen no crows on rue Ordener began to sink in and, eyes still closed, I considered the possibility that perhaps I was no longer in Paris but in Nevada. That woke me up. The crow was Minerva and that, although I've been gone for over two months, the ever-vigilant 7 o'clock Magpie knew I returned yesterday and alerted her friends. They were all in the Bird Park this morning at daybreak enjoying the tasty breakfast of puppy chow and peanuts I left out last night. She knew I'd be back. I am flattered.

7 o'clock Magpie wielding this morning's apple

(Google Translate does a fine job of translating pages, should you be so inclined to explore the links)

Good-bye Paris

Gotta go.

The madness of it all

I'm in a tailspin. We return to the States next Tuesday and are jamming and cramming in all that we can of what's left on the table. Yesterday's visit to the Palace of Versailles necessitated me staying up late last night brushing up on Marie Antoinette. I must say, my opinion of the her has changed. Clearly, in spite of the totally over the top, outrageous wealth and privilege she enjoyed, the lady was framed during the Reign of Terror. Even her 10 year-old son died a horrible death alone in a dark, filthy dungeon. At least Robespierre, the teabagger type lawyer/politician and one of the instigators of the Reign of Terror, eventually fell into the jaws of the guillotine. It was pure poetic justice that this coward's unsuccessful suicide attempt simply shattered his jaw. For a lawyer, not being able to have the last word is worse than death. The bastard's head was chopped off the next day by the same guillotine that decapitated Marie Antoinette.

Today we go to the Musée d'Orsay. I'm going crazy without downtime. We're out breakfast to bed. I'm drowning in photos. I can't catch a breath. I know. Luxury problem. March me to the guillotine. I'm not asking for sympathy. I'm just howling before launching into action. It's embarrassing. What can I say? It will pass. And, of course, I'm grateful for this fabulous opportunity, even though I've been lock step with my dear, (very) covertly insatiable mother-not-in-law and my darling beloved for two fucking months. Soon enough, my world will shrink back to the Bird Park and I will be writing about who came by for breakfast but today it's off to the d'Orsay. Wednesday is their late night so, of course, we'll be out late again.

Thankfully, there is a small reprieve on our departure so I actually have a bit of time to sit down here and write. Lucky all around. I really needed a little time off. I'll cut my fingernails on the way to the bus.

Photos du jour

PARIS STREET SCENES

Woman and flowers by Quai du Valmy

Homeless guys watching TV under bridge over the Seine.

Mimes along Quai de Valmy

Father and son bazar on Boulevard Barbès.
The son is out of sight but the father is seated inside.

Mannequins on Boulevard Barbès

Five-thousand six hundred and fifty-three

That's how many photos I've taken on this trip so far. 

Honey, you've got a problem.

Well, it's an estimate really because that number

Jesus!

does not include the ones I've deleted.

Get some help. Vous êtes lunatique, ma chérie!

Five thousand is not that many.

Home of forty to fifty-thousand books

There are way more books at the Abbey in the Latin Quarter.

Open mic night

The SpokenWordParis open poetry mic at Au Chat Noir last Monday was really excellent. I'm always an outsider at these things but I read whenever I can wherever I go and, in my opinion, the quality of writing at this event was among the best of any I've participated in. And the presentations were good. Even the poems read in other languages were interesting. And unlike London's Poetry Unplugged,which makes people pay a suck ass cover charge to read, SpokenWord Paris is free for all.

So, if you find yourself in Paris looking for a place to read, or listen, to poetry I highly recommend this event. Not only was the work excellent, but people were friendly and unpretentious. Our friend Karen enjoyed the evening, as did M. Lee which is saying something. Generally, to hear him talk, you'd think a rat had gnawed his earlobe off at one of these things.

I love this guy

May 19, 2012

European tour

I'm leaving in a few minutes for Au Chat Noir for the Spoken Word Paris open mic. It just occurred to me that tonight, combined with the five minute read I did at the Poetry Cafe in London, and now plus the five minutes tonight, in the world of poetry, this amounts to an official European tour. Okay then.

Free day

We finally saw the Paris everyone comes to see because yesterday was free day at the Louvre. It was jammed. The queue into the pyramid was about a mile long most of the day but, just so you know, there is another entrance. Through the underground mall. We walked right in. We did not go to see the Mona Lisa. We'll do that when it's less crowded. But we did see the "Old Guy" aka the Statue 'Ain Ghazal. My new favorite. A very cool guy, oldest in the Louvre, 9000 years old, on loan to the Museum for 30 years. Sorry. Out of time. Pictures to follow. M. Lee is about to assemble us for our trip to the Île de la Cité. Gotta go.

Venus de Milo

I googled Google images for Paris just now. They are nearly all of the Eiffel Tower. Of course, I photographed it anyway.

Night on rue Ordener

Last night outside my window.