Lipstick on a pit bull

"The only difference between a pit bull and a soccer mom is lipstick."
~ Sarah Palin

By Republican logic then, Sarah Palin must think that soccer moms are dogs.

Email from a housewife

I found this on CrooksandLiars and am reposting it here as much for my own reference as yours. It's making the rounds but, if you haven't read it yet, I hope you do.

This forward ran in the Anchorage Daily News:
Posted by Alaska_Politics
Posted: September 4, 2008 - 12:11 pm
From David Hulen in Anchorage –
The e-mail below has been bouncing around the Internet since Sunday. It was written by Anne Kilkenny of Wasilla - stay-at-home mom, letter-to-the-editor writer and longtime watcher of Valley politics. She’s a registered Democrat. She was one of the delegates to the Conference of Alaskans in Fairbanks back in 2004. Her bio from the conference is here. She has has known Sarah Palin since 1992. She e-mailed this letter over the weekend to family and friends Outside, and (despite her request not to post it) it went viral on the Internet very quickly, showing up on blogs and Web sites all over. Since then, Kilkenny has been inundated with phone calls and e-mails. She said she stayed up until 3 a.m. last night answering e-mails, and found nearly 400 new ones waiting when she logged on this morning. It’s posted here with her permission.

And now the internet letter written by Anne Kilkenny from Wasilla, Alaska:

Dear friends,
So many people have asked me about what I know about Sarah Palin in the last 2 days that I decided to write something up . . .

Basically, Sarah Palin and Hillary Clinton have only 2 things in common: their gender and their good looks. :)

You have my permission to forward this to your friends/email contacts with my name and email address attached, but please do not post it on any websites, as there are too many kooks out there . . .
Thanks,
Anne

ABOUT SARAH PALIN

I am a resident of Wasilla, Alaska. I have known Sarah since 1992. Everyone here knows Sarah, so it is nothing special to say we are on a first-name basis. Our children have attended the same schools. Her father was my child’s favorite substitute teacher. I also am on a first name basis with her parents and mother-in-law. I attended more City Council meetings during her administration than about 99% of the residents of the city.

She is enormously popular; in every way she’s like the most popular girl in middle school. Even men who think she is a poor choice and won’t vote for her can’t quit smiling when talking about her because she is a “babe”.

It is astonishing and almost scary how well she can keep a secret. She kept her most recent pregnancy a secret from her children and parents for seven months.

She is “pro-life”. She recently gave birth to a Down’s syndrome baby. There is no cover-up involved, here; Trig is her baby.

She is energetic and hardworking. She regularly worked out at the gym.

She is savvy. She doesn’t take positions; she just “puts things out there” and if they prove to be popular, then she takes credit.

Her husband works a union job on the North Slope for BP and is a champion snowmobile racer. Todd Palin’s kind of job is highly sought-after because of the schedule and high pay. He arranges his work schedule so he can fish for salmon in Bristol Bay for a month or so in summer, but by no stretch of the imagination is fishing their major source of income. Nor has her life-style ever been anything like that of native Alaskans.

Sarah and her whole family are avid hunters.

She’s smart.

Her experience is as mayor of a city with a population of about 5,000 (at the time), and less than 2 years as governor of a state with about 670,000 residents.
During her mayoral administration most of the actual work of running this small city was turned over to an administrator. She had been pushed to hire this administrator by party power-brokers after she had gotten herself into some trouble over precipitous firings which had given rise to a recall campaign.

Sarah campaigned in Wasilla as a “fiscal conservative”. During her 6 years as Mayor, she increased general government expenditures by over 33%. During those same 6 years the amount of taxes collected by the City increased by 38%. This was during a period of low inflation (1996-2002). She reduced progressive property taxes and increased a regressive sales tax which taxed even food. The tax cuts that she promoted benefited large corporate property owners way more than they benefited residents.

The huge increases in tax revenues during her mayoral administration weren’t enough to fund everything on her wish list though, borrowed money was needed, too. She inherited a city with zero debt, but left it with indebtedness of over $22 million. What did Mayor Palin encourage the voters to borrow money for? Was it the infrastructure that she said she supported? The sewage treatment plant that the city lacked? or a new library? No. $1m for a park. $15m-plus for construction of a multi-use sports complex which she rushed through to build on a piece of property that the City didn’t even have clear title to, that was still in litigation 7 yrs later–to the delight of the lawyers involved! The sports complex itself is a nice addition to the community but a huge money pit, not the profit-generator she claimed it would be. She also supported bonds for $5.5m for road projects that could have been done in 5-7 yrs without any borrowing.

While Mayor, City Hall was extensively remodeled and her office redecorated more than once.

These are small numbers, but Wasilla is a very small city.

As an oil producer, the high price of oil has created a budget surplus in Alaska. Rather than invest this surplus in technology that will make us energy independent and increase efficiency, as Governor she proposed distribution of this surplus to every individual in the state.

In this time of record state revenues and budget surpluses, she recommended that the state borrow/bond for road projects, even while she proposed distribution of surplus state revenues: spend today’s surplus, borrow for needs.

She’s not very tolerant of divergent opinions or open to outside ideas or compromise. As Mayor, she fought ideas that weren’t generated by her or her staff. Ideas weren’t evaluated on their merits, but on the basis of who proposed them.

While Sarah was Mayor of Wasilla she tried to fire our highly respected City Librarian because the Librarian refused to consider removing from the library some books that Sarah wanted removed. City residents rallied to the defense of the City Librarian and against Palin’s attempt at out-and-out censorship, so Palin backed down and withdrew her termination letter. People who fought her attempt to oust the Librarian are on her enemies list to this day.

Sarah complained about the “old boy’s club” when she first ran for Mayor, so what did she bring Wasilla? A new set of “old boys”. Palin fired most of the experienced staff she inherited. At the City and as Governor she hired or elevated new, inexperienced, obscure people, creating a staff totally dependent on her for their jobs and eternally grateful and fiercely loyal–loyal to the point of abusing their power to further her personal agenda, as she has acknowledged happened in the case of pressuring the State’s top cop (see below).

As Mayor, Sarah fired Wasilla’s Police Chief because he “intimidated” her, she told the press. As Governor, her recent firing of Alaska’s top cop has the ring of familiarity about it. He served at her pleasure and she had every legal right to fire him, but it’s pretty clear that an important factor in her decision to fire him was because he wouldn’t fire her sister’s ex-husband, a State Trooper. Under investigation for abuse of power, she has had to admit that more than 2 dozen contacts were made between her staff and family to the person that she later fired, pressuring him to fire her ex-brother-in-law. She tried to replace the man she fired with a man who she knew had been reprimanded for sexual harassment; when this caused a public furor, she withdrew her support.

She has bitten the hand of every person who extended theirs to her in help. The City Council person who personally escorted her around town introducing her to voters when she first ran for Wasilla City Council became one of her first targets when she was later elected Mayor. She abruptly fired her loyal City Administrator; even people who didn’t like the guy were stunned by this ruthlessness.

Fear of retribution has kept all of these people from saying anything publicly about her.

When then-Governor Murkowski was handing out political plums, Sarah got the best, Chair of the Alaska Oil and Gas Conservation Commission: one of the few jobs not in Juneau and one of the best paid. She had no background in oil & gas issues. Within months of scoring this great job which paid $122,400/yr, she was complaining in the press about the high salary. I was told that she hated that job: the commute, the structured hours, the work. Sarah became aware that a member of this Commission (who was also the State Chair of the Republican Party) engaged in unethical behavior on the job. In a gutsy move which some undoubtedly cautioned her could be political suicide, Sarah solved all her problems in one fell swoop: got out of the job she hated and garnered gobs of media attention as the patron saint of ethics and as a gutsy fighter against the “old boys’ club” when she dramatically quit, exposing this man’s ethics violations (for which he was fined).

As Mayor, she had her hand stuck out as far as anyone for pork from Senator Ted Stevens. Lately, she has castigated his pork-barrel politics and publicly humiliated him. She only opposed the “bridge to nowhere” after it became clear that it would be unwise not to.

As Governor, she gave the Legislature no direction and budget guidelines, then made a big grandstand display of line-item vetoing projects, calling them pork. Public outcry and further legislative action restored most of these projects–which had been vetoed simply because she was not aware of their importance–but with the unobservant she had gained a reputation as “anti-pork”.

She is solidly Republican: no political maverick. The State party leaders hate her because she has bit them in the back and humiliated them. Other members of the party object to her self-description as a fiscal conservative.

Around Wasilla there are people who went to high school with Sarah. They call her “Sarah Barracuda” because of her unbridled ambition and predatory ruthlessness. Before she became so powerful, very ugly stories circulated around town about shenanigans she pulled to be made point guard on the high school basketball team. When Sarah’s mother-in-law, a highly respected member of the community and experienced manager, ran for Mayor, Sarah refused to endorse her.

As Governor, she stepped outside of the box and put together of package of legislation known as “AGIA” that forced the oil companies to march to the beat of her drum.

Like most Alaskans, she favors drilling in the Arctic National Wildlife Refuge. She has questioned if the loss of sea ice is linked to global warming. She campaigned “as a private citizen” against a state initiaitive that would have either a) protected salmon streams from pollution from mines, or b) tied up in the courts all mining in the state (depending on who you listen to). She has pushed the State’s lawsuit against the Dept. of the Interior’s decision to list polar bears as threatened species.
McCain is the oldest person to ever run for President; Sarah will be a heartbeat away from being President.

There has to be literally millions of Americans who are more knowledgeable and experienced than she.

However, there’s a lot of people who have underestimated her and are regretting it.

CLAIM VS FACT

*”Hockey mom”: true for a few years.
*”PTA mom”: true years ago when her first-born was in elementary school, not since.
*”NRA supporter”: absolutely true
*social conservative: mixed. Opposes gay marriage, BUT vetoed a bill that would have denied benefits to employees in same-sex relationships (said she did this because it was unconsitutional).
*pro-creationism: mixed. Supports it, BUT did nothing as Governor to promote it.
*”Pro-life”: mixed. Knowingly gave birth to a Down’s syndrome baby BUT declined to call a special legislative session on some pro-life legislation
*”Experienced”: Some high schools have more students than Wasilla has residents. Many cities have more residents than the state of Alaska. No legislative experience other than City Council. Little hands-on supervisory or managerial experience; needed help of a city administrator to run town of about 5,000.
*political maverick: not at all
*gutsy: absolutely!
*open & transparent: ??? Good at keeping secrets. Not good at explaining actions.
*has a developed philosophy of public policy: no
*”a Greenie”: no. Turned Wasilla into a wasteland of big box stores and disconnected parking lots. Is pro-drilling off-shore and in ANWR.
*fiscal conservative: not by my definition!
*pro-infrastructure: No. Promoted a sports complex and park in a city without a sewage treatment plant or storm drainage system. Built streets to early 20th century standards.
*pro-tax relief: Lowered taxes for businesses, increased tax burden on residents
*pro-small government: No. Oversaw greatest expansion of city government in Wasilla’s history.
*pro-labor/pro-union. No. Just because her husband works union doesn’t make her pro-labor. I have seen nothing to support any claim that she is pro-labor/pro-union.

WHY AM I WRITING THIS?

First, I have long believed in the importance of being an informed voter. I am a voter registrar. For 10 years I put on student voting programs in the schools. If you google my name (Anne Kilkenny + Alaska), you will find references to my participation in local government, education, and PTA/parent organizations.

Secondly, I’ve always operated in the belief that “Bad things happen when good people stay silent”. Few people know as much as I do because few have gone to as many City Council meetings.

Third, I am just a housewife. I don’t have a job she can bump me out of. I don’t belong to any organization that she can hurt. But, I am no fool; she is immensely popular here, and it is likely that this will cost me somehow in the future: that’s life.
Fourth, she has hated me since back in 1996, when I was one of the 100 or so people who rallied to support the City Librarian against Sarah’s attempt at censorship.
Fifth, I looked around and realized that everybody else was afraid to say anything because they were somehow vulnerable.

CAVEATS

I am not a statistician. I developed the numbers for the increase in spending & taxation 2 years ago (when Palin was running for Governor) from information supplied to me by the Finance Director of the City of Wasilla, and I can’t recall exactly what I adjusted for: did I adjust for inflation? for population increases? Right now, it is impossible for a private person to get any info out of City Hall–they are swamped. So I can’t verify my numbers.

You may have noticed that there are various numbers circulating for the population of Wasilla, ranging from my “about 5,000″, up to 9,000. The day Palin’s selection was announced a city official told me that the current population is about 7,000. The official 2000 census count was 5,460. I have used about 5,000 because Palin was Mayor from 1996 to 2002, and the city was growing rapidly in the mid-90’s.

Anne Kilkenny
August 31, 2008

Ptown afternoon

I'm in Portland this weekend visiting my daughter and her husband. And Owen, the golden boy and Willie Nelson the cat. They are snoozing nearby. Lovely sunny day here in stump town. Truly, September is the sweetest month. This all by way of seeing family before M. Lee and I leave for Central America. Countdown a week and a half. I wish I'd been coming up here more often. This is only my fourth visit in two years. When I'm in my daily life routine, my blood gets thick and everything appears so far away and uphill both ways. Seems I need terrifying possibilities looming on the horizon to rise to life. Backpacking through Central America is just enough to bring me to the table. So here I am and it's lovely. Asia just got back from a run so, after she showers, we are going to meet up with JudyBlueSky and eat hand picked wild sweet homemade Oregon blackberry pie. Mmmmmmm... pie.

Just for the record, baby Owen is older than he is in this fetching photo and his chewies have grown accordingly. I was, in fact, shocked at the size of the bone he is currently devouring. He could literally eat a cow, horn, hoof and tail.

Hilarious. Jon Stewart exposing Republican hypocrisy

During their reign of terror, Republicans shameless took hypocrisy, corruption and folly to dizzying new levels. Now they are tripping over their dicks whining that Palin is the victim of a double standard. John Stewart has some hilarious clips of them whining and contradicting themselves now that the high heel is on the other foot. Pathetic.


Hypocrisy Republican style

Loose cannon McCain

John McCain's explosive, hair-trigger temper is well documented. Dr. Phillip Butler, a former POW incarcerated with McCain, says McCain's anger problem makes him unfit to be President. I could not agree more. We can't afford to have some old loose cannon "maverick" prone to rage and impulse decisions answering a 3 am call on the Red Phone. And Mrs. "Iraq is a Task from God Palin" a heart attack away? Nightmare.

McCain's short circuit


4:10



John McCain Sarah Palin maverick

All the lovely creatures...

Polar bears drowning
due to global warming

Now too the fireflies are disappearing from the earth. Like polar bears. Sarah Palin sued the US government this spring when polar bears were put on the endangered species list. What an idiot. I don't have the heart to make a list tonight but species are endangered and vanishing right and left, due to human pollution. We have got to do better. Even selfishly this is a disaster. Fireflies and polar bears are indicators of how pollution is turning our environment hostile to life as we know it. Humans are not immune however, in our hubris, we imagine ourselves above the laws of nature.

The wild, beautiful, fragile, exotic, wonderful, impossible creatures of earth...

"When the little glow bug
lights his lamp,
the air around
is surely damp."

vanishing .......

Gustav's claws

Gustav & Hanna


I talked to my friend Marsha yesterday. She grew up in Florida so has lived through many hurricane seasons. In five minutes I learned more about highs and lows from her than made sense in a lifetime. By Republican logic, living in Florida would qualify her to head FEMA but she has enough sense to reject such an offer. Anyway, given that major hurricanes are grinding their way through the Caribbean, I wanted to know how she lives with them. To me they are colossal electro-magnetic cyclop ant-eaters lumbering through ankle-deep oceans rummaging for prey. They have lightning veins, thunderbolt hearts and claws of hail and rain. They ransack everything they touch, sea and land, jamming their whirling razor-edged snouts into the fray, sucking up everything in sight. She seems them as weather.

Typical Marsha, she'd been out sailing the gulf in the morning and got back just as Gustav's rain set in. Her sense of timing is well honed but then she uses NOAA to monitor winds even as they are born moving across the deserts of Africa. She watches them cross the Atlantic and follows their arrival via local TV and radio when they finally approach landfall. As a kid, gulf water made it all the way into the kitchen of their little island home. That would be enough for me but, like she pointed out, everybody's got something. I'll take rattlesnakes.

Gustav will miss her area so she's got her eye on Hanna and a couple of others still far out at sea off the news radar. I suppose they'll be trouble just about the time we arrive in Guatemala. I am not a hurricane chaser. Don't want to be one and M. Lee assures me we will be far far away but crap! There is even a mean south wind raging here in Nevada this morning. I say Gustav's claws.

Playing to the choir

McCain's pick for second in command of the United States of America is mind-numbing which is undoubtedly what he's praying for. He must anesthetize the evangelicals so they will accept him as their leader, kind of like tranquilizing a mare before breeding her.

Sarah Palin has ZERO foreign policy experience. She is strongly anti-choice, even opposing abortion in the case of rape or incest. She thinks creationism should be taught in public schools and doesn't believe humans are the cause of climate change. So much for science. Naturally, she is solidly in line with McSame's "Big Oil first" energy policy and has pushed hard for more oil drilling. She even sued the Bush administration for listing polar bears as an endangered species, worried it would interfere with more oil drilling in Alaska. Oh, and she's currently under investigation for some shady dealings.



McCain has given us us a peak into how truly raw and impulsive his thinking is, how he reacts under pressure and what his priorities are based on ... celebrity and sensationalism. He is not the man I want fingering the Red Button any more than I want her, one heart attack away, picking up that 3 am call.



McCain Palin Sara Palin Hail Mary pick panic reaction

Alien seeking pie

JudyBlueSky is making pie today from just picked hand-picked sweet black plumb juicy August blackberries. YUM!

I, on the other hand, do not have such pie. But oddly, when I came across this photo of the Pie Town billboard in my files this morning I dragged it to my "post n dump" folder, anticipating that I'd have a reason to post it today. I took it when we passed though Pie Town, NM.


Was this because I have some kind of spooky psychic link to homemade blackberry pie? Didn't get any pie in Pie Town either. Mmmmm pie...

Hot August night

In just over two weeks we'll be leaving for Guatemala. It is no comfort to me that it is now hurricane season in the Caribbean and we are headed in that general direction. As always, I am the reluctant traveler but I am also excited. We have been getting ready for a couple of weeks already making lists, stacking and sorting piles of clothes and gear on the floor. This weekend I am going to pack my backpack and see how how heavy it is, how much room is left. All that. We are already running out of time. Our silk travel sheets arrived today. They come highly recommended. They're light, 6.3 oz, and are supposed to be an effective barrier against bed bugs and other nastiness associated with cheap rooms.


I have been cutting back on the seed in the Bird Park to prepare the birds for when we leave but the place has been hopping anyway. Pigeons cram the tubs bathing in flocks then doze in the sun. They are unique. Other birds come and go, with always an eye for death from above, but the pigeons relax and air their wings. Even sleep. I love them for it. And the quail are back, all ages. I have seen no sign of the hawk but there was some excitement this afternoon when a couple of young males had a real chest bumper. It went on for about ten minutes. That's long in quail time. All in all, the scene outside my window has been a rollicking bird circus but two days after we leave it will be empty, only an occasional bird dropping by on the chance that somehow the feeders are full again. And so it will be for months. I hate that part about going away.

Obama was fantastic in Denver. They all were. I love Biden. Clinton and Clinton were heros. Michelle Obama outstanding. Wonderful. So we shall see...

It's a hot August night here in Nevada. Crickets trilling away in the dark.

Back it up

Still reeling from losing so many files yesterday. After a night's sleep, I remember more clearly just what got sucked into the Big Black Hole in the middle of cyberspace. Every time this happens I die a little inside. And whatwhatwhat have I learned this time?

Hmmmmmmm..........?

BACK IT UP, asshole. On a regular basis. Oh and... check the back up, honey.

My big mistake rescuing files from the crashed hard drive? Didn't check to make sure files transferred properly. Lovely. I can blame microsoft. Their crappy "copy" feature, after all. But that's useless. So. Have I learned this time? Back_it_up.

Now will I do what I tell other people to do? Who's sorry now? Oh goodie. I get to practice detachment and renewal. Pruning is good for the soul.

Shit.

Thanks Hillary

"No way! No how! No McCain!"

Meltdown

M. Lee rebuilt my computer today while I was in Reno. It crashed several weeks ago. I thought I had backed up all my files... but no. I missed an entire directory. Lovely. Makes me crazy. Okay, it's a lesson in detachment. Crazy. That's how I feel tonight. I'm in a reverse spin. And I lost another batch of files that didn't copy properly, including the one with my Firefox settings. Poof. So now I will have to spend x time tweaking and customizing my browser. My fault for not checking. I have learned nothing if I haven't learned to check and double check everything. So. That's it. I hope your day went better.

Laddu and the crow

Yesterday was Janmashtami, Krsna's birthday, and we attended the festivities which were held at a Buddhist temple in Reno. Great food. Interesting mix of people, mostly Indians. Seems the majority were there for the Rishi, a tiny, handsome, songbird of a fellow in town for the week raising money for his charity in India. We were there because some ISKCON devotees, in town for Burning Man, were sharing the evening and the microphone. Couldn't resist.


There was kirtan (chanting). I played my kartals (brass hand cymbals). That was a treat even though it all stayed pretty tame. And we endured a couple of canned lectures, the most egregious being the devotee from ISKCON. I know the phony Indian accent and hand-me-down metaphors are considered parampara but really... the less talking, the more chanting the better. Anyway, the feast was delicious.

Then, just as we were leaving, M. Lee got into a conversation with a young guy from Krishna Camp, the group attending Burning Man. He was born in ISKCON. His parents are still there. Nice fellow. Clear-eyed. Friendly. Curious. Turns out I know, knew, his guru, before he became a sannyas. Radanath. Krishna Camp is his creation. M. Lee did a little online research this morning. Seems I, as one of the Brijbasi Players theatre troupe, was part of Radanatha's first road tour. That was at the Rainbow Festival, precursor to Burning Man et cetera. 1980. Ironically the following year, when eight of us, the press, were preparing to leave the movement Radanath, who later became known as the Rainbow Swami, was sent by the temple to dissuade us, knowing we trusted him. We left anyway. Long story. Dangerous times. Then the temple authorities sent him to New York to track us down. Last night, for me, was 27 years later.


Janmashtami kirtan, Reno



~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~



I brought home a laddu from the feast for the birds. Prasadam. Holy food. If the story is true, one bite guarantees a human birth in the next incarnation. That would explain Bush, Cheney, McCain, Gonzo and the rest of those bastards. In their last time around they were probably a pack of alley rats with a dumpster behind a Krishna temple on their rounds and nibbled a crumb or two of prasadam along the way. Anyway, the crows were wild about the laddu. Charlie clucked and cajoled all morning demanding more. He finally gave up on sweet talking me and just sat in the poplar tree squawking at my window. Clown. I had to go out and tell him to cool it. Neighbors, ya know. Gets us both in trouble.

River dog's life

River dog riding the bus for a day on the river.

Jeff Heathcock really gets it right. If I ran the world, this is exactly how things would be.

"I just want them to feel like they are having their own life".

It's a dog's life.

Red River Canoe Rental

Spiders and bees

I felt like this all day.










Why did the bee die in the flower? Photo from my garden. No. I do not use pesticides.

Old Guy Hills

I suspect that the quail the hawk made off with the other morning was the mother of one of the families in the Bird Park. Yesterday, after the hawk grabbed someone, the quail laid low all day but today one of the families made an appearance in the afternoon lured, I imagine, by the tasty thistle seed the sparrows drop on the ground. But there was no mother in the covey. The father kept watch alone and when the family was done eating and perched on the fence, he climbed back up into Old Guy Hills and walked its ridges, back and forth, looking, listening, waiting. Quail mate for life so, if she is dead, it is his great loss and I am sad for him.

His mood reminded me of an elderly gentleman I met in a park when I was a young girl, just married. He had recently buried his wife. We talked briefly. I wanted to comfort him but he was inconsolable. He was so polite. Thanked me. I sputtered a few trite things like, "I'm sorry" and went on my way.


Why should calamity be full of words? - Shakespeare

Dirty business

A friend emailed me this little fable the other day which seems worthy of passing along.

Young Chuck, moved to Texas and bought a donkey from a farmer for $100.00. The farmer agreed to deliver the donkey the next day. The next day he drove up and said, 'Sorry son, but I have some bad news, the donkey died.'

Chuck replied, 'Well, then just give me my money back.'

The farmer said, 'Can't do that. I went and spent it already.'

Chuck said, 'Ok, then, just bring me the dead donkey.'

The farmer asked, 'What ya gonna do with him?

Chuck said, 'I'm going to raffle him off.'

The farmer said, 'You can't raffle off a dead donkey!'

Chuck said, 'Sure I can. Watch me. I just won't tell anybody he's dead.'

A month later, the farmer met up with Chuck and asked, 'What happened with that dead donkey?'

Chuck said, 'I raffled him off. I sold 500 tickets at two dollars a piece and made a profit of $898.00.'

The farmer said, 'Didn't anyone complain?'

Chuck said, 'Just the guy who won. So I gave him his two dollars back.'

Chuck grew up and became a corporate lawyer.

***

I changed the ending. Originally it went, "Chuck grew up and now works for the government." I think the new ending is more reflective of the times. After all, corporations now run America through their lobbyists and lawyers are siphoning off everything, nailed down or not.

It's been trying to rain all day but the desert never does get much of a break. The wind came up. It grew dark. Temperatures dropped. A few drops fell then it passed. Even that was some relief. Not many birds came by today. No quail. Now at sunset the Pine Nut range to the west and the clouds sweeping overhead are both orange against a blue sky and the wind is up again but still no rain. The neighbor across the street comes out like the coo-coo from a clock to hand water his lawn. His face is red as raw meat. He doesn't notice me sitting in the grass. He looks like he somehow managed to swallow a large fitness ball then re-inflated it. His stomach and ass are one perfectly round protuberance. And so he stands, hose in hand, swaying in the grass. Still no rain.

Life and death in the Bird Park

Lots of commotion in the Bird Park this morning after a hawk burst out of a tree. By the keen lament that followed, I'd say she managed to grab one of the quail. Currently, a couple of large families spend a lot of time here. These guys scurry after one another in a constant effort to stay together. They define the tight-knit family. The youngsters even nap cuddled in row touching, as their parents keep watch. So this morning the family huddled beneath the lilac bush and mourned and we mourned with them, coffee cups in hand, watching through the window, knowing somewhere the hawk was feeding her children, and that was good, but taking no pleasure in any of it.


Quail dust bath party, 2006

Thornburg Canyon

I'm beat. We did an eight hour hike in the Sierra today, eleven miles over a 2500 ft. elevation gain. That's slow but I don't care. It's not like I punch a time clock in the forest. Today's destination was a saddleback at 8400 ft located at the top of Thornburg Canyon. Great views of valleys and mountains beyond mountains. Even a cobalt blue lake nestled in a far away forest. I found some petrified wood along the ridge, a generally unfriendly place for trees given the beating of wind and weather, but who knows what conditions were like there a million years ago? I picked up four chunks but on our way down gave one to a mammoth tree under which we stopped to rest. This tree must have been at least thousand years old itself and still robust. It is an honor to take shelter of a being who has witnessed the passing of so many centuries. I felt very safe and extremely small, like a firefly. Photos to follow but at the moment I am lying on the bed with my laptop ... winding down ... listening to crickets .... looking forward to sleep.

After five

Tonight, having written nothing new, all I have for today is a fragment from a notebook sitting nearby.

Photo source: Trevor's Blog

half in
half out
turning around
to better see
who
what
I am becoming
or is that you
coming after
consuming me
as I go?

Insane

Seattle walkabout, part 4

Fisherman's Terminal - Salmon Bay, Seattle

The docks at Fisherman Terminal   were home briefly in my twenties.
It wasn't a good time in my life

so during our recent trip to Seattle

I had to visit the place again,

put old ghosts to rest or perhaps

bring them home.

They are welcome with me.

"Glorified One" by Leo Kenney
Taken at Seattle Art Museum, July '08

Salon mouseover madness

Slate has published a very cool mouseover diagramming the roles a few people in the Bush Administration played in five of the many high crimes and misdemeanors committed during the Republican reign of terror. It's fun, in a gallows humor kind of way. Check it out.


Slate mouseover crimes and misdemeanors Bush Gonzales Cheney

Dog years

See it? Don't miss it.

Synopsis: "Ben 39, Leo, castrated mongrel needs love, G.S.O.H essential."


DOG YEARS


Link to Dog Years 2. "It's definitely a dog day afternoon for one mutt who gets a surprise visit from his vet's finger."

Official Dog Years site here.

Sink hole

Whew! I thought my camera died this morning but this test photo confirms otherwise. I did, however, fail the first maxim of troubleshooting. Always begin at the simplest, most obvious point. After much mucking about, M. Lee came in, pulled the battery and reseated it. Thank you, Mr. Lee.

And it's not just me that gets in a cluster fuck over thinking things. I knew a guy who drove himself beyond despair wrestling with a fucked up computer. He couldn't, wouldn't, take a break and come back fresh the next day. He had wrestled with it for three long days by the time I dropped by. I can take no credit for solving the problem. It was pure luck and, in fact, it even seemed to make matters worse when I happened to notice that the damn thing was just switched off.


But sadly, half way through the year, I have blown my New Year's resolution to keep my office organized. My other desk is in no better shape. In fact, I am surrounded by desks and they are all cluttered. This is very bad. My office is a sink hole. I had a little reprieve in Seattle but the minute we got back home, I fell into my old ways, go to Huffpo and comment, check my blog stats, back to Huffpo, comment, Daily Kos, stats, tinker with photos, stats, blog post, stats, email, stats... It was so much easier in Seattle. I actually made some progress on a poem I've been working on for a while. I am in big fat RUT. When I'm alone, I'm in bad company. Set it here. Lay it there. Pick it up in a minute. Lies. All lies. And I fall for it every time. I hope that when, if, we go to Central America this fall, I will shake off some of this crust. When all else fails, travel.

Lonesome George

We're home from Seattle to Lonesome George calling from the rooftop. I've never mentioned him before, though I've meant to. Lonesome George is the one poor fellow who does not have a mate this year. He spends a lot of time on the rooftops calling out over the valley while the quail couples wiggle and snuggle in their dirt baths below. The one mitigating thought I have is that Lonesome George could fly away and win a mate somewhere else if he wanted to. Perhaps he likes his home more? It is pretty sweet between Dwayne's giant, sprawling willow tree of life and the Bird Park. It is good to be home.

Frank and Sukie

I couldn't resist teasing Frank and Sukie with toast the other morning but they know I'll succumb to their charms and share bites so are quite willing to play along with the game.

UPDATE: I did an annotated version if this video but it only plays on YouTube.


Tasty bites

Seattle seagull french fry party

Seagulls love french fries and I like feeding them. Together we make a perfect loop.



UPDATE:
As Don mentioned in the comments, the party's at Ivar's. I should have included that. So go there. The seagulls are waiting.

Seattle walkabout, part 1

Seattle hillside in the spring.

The dogs and us are finally settled into something of a routine here in Seattle. We have become a tight little pack taking lots of walks and even a few rides in the car for good measure. That's the high point, even for Frank who, I am told, doesn't generally like going in the car. We are flattered. Plus M. Lee and I have managed to take long walks on our own nearly every day, mile upon winding mile, so here are a few more photos from those.

Seattle Public Library. I've posted photos of both their weird escalator art and the delicious red hallway during other visits here. They are part of my regular loop. The face in the elevator was not particularly welcoming but I took her picture anyway.

Also, this rust stain on the sidewalk in Chinatown caught my eye. It looked like a forlorn ghost which made me think of my grandfather who used to live in this neighborhood during the final days of his alcoholic life.

Then this hotel lobby also seemed haunted. Perhaps my grandfather stayed here from time to time during those last sad years, when he could afford a room. In my mind's eye, I could see him carefully descending the stair, hand on the railing, briefcase in hand, going out into the day to sell ballpoint pens from from it. Five for a dollar. We used to correspond occasionally.Perhaps a letter from me was waiting for him behind the desk when he came back in the evening.

You gonna eat all that?

But none of this seems to occur to Suki or Frank. Dogs are good company for a melancholic like me.

Science and the art of making dogs smile

We are at my brother's house in Seattle for the next few weeks, taking care of his dogs Frank and Suki, while he attends a conference in the UK. The weather is fine. Earlier this month the area made headlines for being "colder than Siberia", but not this week. Heat wave and clear blue skies. Even Mt. Ranier is out. Lucky us. It's 40 degrees cooler in Southampton. I feel kind of bad for my brother and his wife but hey, they're Seattleites. They may not even notice. So I'm sitting in his office staring at the titles on the bookshelf. However I arrange them in my mind, they suggest strange poetry.

The Elements... An Eternal Golden Braid... Rat's, Lice and History... The Origins of Order.... Catastrophe Theory... Turing's Delirium... Fermat's Enigma... Complexity... Something Under the Bed is Drooling... Fractals, Chaos, Power Laws... Chaos... Catastrophe... The Curse of Madame C... The Collapse of Chaos... Ecological Time Series... The Biology of Mind... Cognitive Ecology... Neurophilosophy... The Organic Machine... The Mathematics of Behavior... Principia... The Mismeausre of Man... Evolution of Life Histories... The Curse of Lono... Evolutionary Games and Population Dynamics... Endangered Species Recovery... Complex Stochastic Systems... Artificial Worlds... A Brief History of Time... The Future of Life... Tree Huggers... Groping in the Dark... Silent Spring... and this gem

The Great Salmon Hoax

Opening to a random page, I find my brother looking back at me from Chapter 7, The Rise of the Flow Theorists and the Fall of Science. Turns out he's one of the good guys after all. (The Flow Theorists being the bad guys, of course.)

First I need to establish one point. No matter what, I love my brother. So. When we were kids, we had a running debate, science — progress VS poetry — enlightenment. Occasionally it even got physical but then he also resorted to underhanded things to make his point, like setting a pan of chemicals on fire in the middle of my bedroom floor or tricking me into sniffing a concoction that smelled like farts. When we were in high school, I had an infuriating argument with him and the incredibly immature science teacher who lived across the street. They smugly claimed that science was superior because, one day, science would make X-ray sunglasses that would enable them to see though women's clothing. Turns out they were right, only it's the creepy government doing the X-ray spying and they are peeking through everyone's clothes.

Of course, when we grew up, the great debate became a running joke. We stopped looking at our differences and started focusing on our similarities but, given that he was (and is) the Principal Investigator Director of Columbia Basin Research at the University of Washington, I couldn't help but see him as one of the contributors to the river's salmon disaster. After all, the BPA (Bonneville Power Association), cut the grant checks and they are a murky government institution resentful of hippy-dippy concerns like eco-sustainability. But The Great Salmon Hoax brought me up to date on all that.

"Dr. Anderson is a chief target of the salmon managers, who have never forgiven him for producing CRiSP runs that showed that their salmon measures made no sense, and for proving that their FLUSH model made no sense either."

And this delicious comment:

"But mere ad hominem attacks have not silenced all the critics. Some, like Dr. Anderson, are even spurred to greater efforts."

Way to go, little brother! Too bad I read about it first in a book but then I suppose this still is a bit of a touchy subject between us.

But back to the Great Salmon Hoax.

"Recognizing the need to silence the pesky scientists in Seattle once and for all, the state and tribal harvest managers are in the process of slowly attempting to take over the most critical salmon research in the Columbia Basin, the efforts to measure survival through the river using PIT-tags."

To which my brother responded:

"The proposal lacks an ecological framework, ignores biological mechanisms, mathematical formalism, and hypothesis testing" adding that, "the experiment is beyond the capabilities of the Fish Passage Center, and that its "principal investigator, Michele DeHart, has no track record in research".

Just for measure, Al Gore agrees with him and the other pesky Seattle scientists, seeing them as part of the:

"solid base of support for the difficult actions we must soon take."

Now I understand. I asked Jim awhile ago how the salmon were doing. Yes. I admit it. I was being a bitch. He replied in very tired voice, "Oh... that river is hopeless. Better to just helicopter the fish somewhere else and start over."

Sad. At this point, even the oceans themselves, and all their vast and wondrous life is suffering under the boot of human stupidity and greed and rapidly approaching a condition from which there is no return.

Dinner party

"Go, go, go, said the bird:
human kind cannot bear very
much reality."
~ Burnt Norton, T.S. Elliot

Elliot was right, so back to the library. I think, after all, that this is one of the most important books on the shelf...

97 Ways to make a Dog Smile

#74 Call of the Wild
Make it a ritual during each full moon (or anytime you feel like it) to join your dog outside for a no-holds-barred howling session. Letting loose with a great howl is a liberating release for both of you."

Email to Suki and Frank
Date: Sun, Jun 29, 2008 at 10:21 AM
Subject: woolf woolf

dear sukie and frank

we are in england - its a bit further across the lake from where we walked the other day. we visited a place called stonehenge today, it's a big circle of stones. From the best I can make out it is a ancient dog pee circle where the old dogs of old england would meet and exchange p-mail, You would really like it. And you could explain to me all about the messages left on the stones over 21,000 years, that's dog years of course.

I hear its hot in seattle, please keep cool and don't let asha and lee get lost in the park.

love the boss

Coin of the realm

We are off to Seattle for a few weeks to babysit my brother's dogs. I'd like to leave you with something besides political rants, photos of tombstones, secondhand store anomalies, and videos of crows eating naan but no time to search out this tiny world for something different. I will do my best, however, to entertain you from Seattle. In the meantime, here's a short movie based on tech support horror stories. Enjoy. Now, I've got to chop some peanuts for the 7 o'clock magpie. These days, she comes at 8. Birds aren't on daylight savings time, you know.

I leave you with a coin of the realm. Do with it as you will.

Bush can't buy a wave

Bush just can't believe these two guys won't wave back so, abandoning the Presidential facade, he gives them a second wave, this one designed to intimidate, if not charm, them into waving back but again... no response. Unable to let it go, he tries a third time to get their acknowledgment but they never give.


Ha ha, asshole.

Local news at 10:10

Okay. Time to move on. It's Sunday already. Summer solstice has come and gone. The days are getting shorter and I haven't posted anything in almost a week. Oh, I've written things in my head, but they don't count, do they? Too bad. It would make life so much easier. We'd all be writers. But then it would be meaningless, wouldn't it? There's got to be some barrier to entry. "Writers write, Owen". I suppose you could always hire a ghost writer, but that's not the same.

I did find out the rest of the story on the untimely death of the baby quail I found in my yard the other day. His family was the victim of a house cat attack. My neighbor saw the whole thing. He was sitting in his garage having a cigar and another night cap, when a quail family walked by. Suddenly the cat from next door pounced, scattering them. My neighbor, drunk as usual, deciding that the survival of the babies depended on him, lurched into action. He managed to scoop up about ten babies. He put them in a cardboard box, tossed in a little (useless) seed, being so tiny, they only eat what is regurgitated into their mouths by their parents. Next he laid a towel partially over the top then left them there for the night where, at last look, the chicks were huddled together at the bottom of the box. In the morning they were dead. All of them. What an idiot! Their only chance of survival was reconnecting with their parents. And they would have done that. Parents are quite capable of rounding up their young after such an incident. They were just waiting for Stupid to buzz off. Actually, my neighbor a really nice guy but the booze is eating him alive. He's the fellow that used to cockroach sit for me and it was also his poor judgment that resulted in Ha'penny's untimely death.

Which reminds me, I reinstated the Cockroach Diary on my website. A little girl I know wanted to read it. She's very excited to get some giant, hissing Madagascan cockroaches of her own and is reading up on them.

So, happy summer. You can't blame a busy mom for grabbing a bite to eat herself before heading back to the nest with a beak full of nice, greasy, tasty ........



BREAKFAST FRIES!

7 and Seven

The other night I dreamt two birds visited me. The first was a small regular fellow. I was feeding him nuts when an enormous, very intense bird swooped down from the sky, startling the hell out of me. He was white and looked like a cross between an owl and an eagle but furry like an animal and the size of a small child. I just happened to have a big chunk of something fatty on hand which I tossed him. By the looks of things, it was delicious. After eating, he came over and we sat together awhile. I hope he returns.

This morning, the 7 o'clock Magpie and her baby dropped by the Bird Park for some peanuts. She's been a regular here for a couple of years now. You may remember her from the scintillating video in which she spents a lot of time deciding how best to carry as many french fries as possible per trip. In the beginning she only came in the evening, 7 pm. You could almost, as they say, set your watch by her. Later she added the 7 am visit to her rounds.

Speaking of seven, Seven was the name of the first human baby I ever watched get born. His parents were hippies and the mother made the event an open invitation affair. Portland in the '60s. I was a friend of a friend. It was at Seven's soon-to-be home, one of those big old Victorian houses in Goose Hollow, bursting with hippy stuff, junk, crap, some of it soon to be antique, plants, musical instruments, art, posters, beads, feathers, bells, impromptu sculptures, collages, random dogs, cats, and other things and people defying definition. You never knew exactly who or what belonged where. Seemed most places were, if not communes, at least crash pads. The birth lasted most of the day. People came and went. Dogs wandered in and out and a big white one huffed himself down onto the bare wood floor at the foot of the brass bed where he stayed until excitement over Luria's quickening contractions finally ruined his afternoon nap. Until then there was a lot of pot smoking, talk, laughter, music and silence. As the time drew near, someone stood at the foot of the bed and read a poem to the baby making his way slow towards the world. Maybe Seven was born at 7 pm. I don't know. The only thing I do remember about time was that afternoon sunlight glowed through lace curtains, turning the room a sweet gold hue and suddenly, finally, a complete, absolutely perfect, black haired, tiny, naked human appeared from Luria's body.

Anyway... lately the 7 o'clock Magpie hasn't been around as much or on time and I've been a bit worried about her. Now I see that she was busy at home. Today she brought her baby to the park. You can always spot the babies because they stand, knee deep in food with their mouths open, squawking. No surprise, I guess. Nothing like home cooking, whether you have feathers or fingers.

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.