Muse in the Morning

enter Muse in the Morning

The muses are ancient.  The inspirations for our stories were said to be born from them.  Muses of song and dance, or poetry and prose, of comedy and tragedy, of the inward and the outward.  In one version they are Calliope, Euterpe and Terpsichore, Erato and Clio, Thalia and Melpomene, Polyhymnia and Urania.

It has also been traditional to name a tenth muse.  Plato declared Sappho to be the tenth muse, the muse of women poets.  Others have been suggested throughout the centuries.  I don’t have a name for one, but I do think there should be a muse for the graphical arts.  And maybe there should be many more.

Please join us inside to celebrate our various muses…

source State of the Onion will continue on Monday.  Today’s offering is instead a piece from lasix mg of metolazone day An Opened Mind, with some of the colors changed, and is offered in the spirit of the Moratorium.

Art Link
samples of viagra tablets The Dark Side of Redworld

click here An Ocean of Blood

A drip of blood
from one perspective
unless its yours
or mine
It falls on the ground
in the highest places
in the villages of Nepal
where blood runs cold
it trickles down
the mountainside
through far Kashmir
into Afghanistan
staining the banks of the streams
that carve the hidden valleys
and splash into the rivers
staining them too with the blood
of guilty and the innocent alike
ever downward through
the desert of Iraq
There are other mountains
in Bosnia and Kosovo
where the blood also spilled
running eastward perhaps
through the valleys of Chechnya
and further on to color red
the desert of Uzbekistan
Blood also spilled in the jungles
of the Congo and Rwanda
and the oil plains of Nigeria
flowing into the rivers
ever onward
’til the rivers ran red
Here too the blood
eventually sank into the deserts
of Eritrea and Darfur
and the bazaars
of the Sudan and Somalia
The desert is stained
with blood
The bloody fist of oppression
squeezes the life
out of the jungle of Myanmar
and the farms of Zimbabwe
The mountains
of Peru and Columbia
add more than their share
The Big Muddy is stained
as it passes by what
used to be the Big Easy
but it’s sure not easy anymore
and the rivers run red with blood
carrying it to the ocean
an ocean of blood
bathing our world
Our home is built
on the blood of others
yet still we add more
or stand by watching it run
Our home is sinking
as the blood-tainted
ocean rises
The blood will consume
us all in the end

–Robyn Elaine Serven
–December 26, 2005

I know you have talent.  What sometimes is forgotten is that being practical is a talent.  I have a paucity for that sort of talent in many situations, though it turns out that I’m a pretty darn good cook.  🙂 

Let your talent bloom.  You can share it here.  Encourage others to let it bloom inside them as well.

Won’t you share your words or art, your sounds or visions, your thoughts scientific or philosophic, the comedy or tragedy of your days, the stories of doing and making?  And be excellent to one another!

Democrats Work: Kicking it Around

(Democracy. It’s hard work.
(FP’ed at 3:08 AM EDT, September 21, 2007) – promoted by exmearden

Looking back on Democrats this week, some people will remember Move On ads and Senate votes about troop rotations and all of those large national stories that grabbed the headlines.

Thirty Five kids will hold different memories of this week. They will remember playing soccer with players from the Colorado Rapids.

And then there are other people who will remember the mountains of trash they hauled away from the San Francisco shoreline, or the way they cleaned the Mud Creek Trail in Arkansas.

Democrats Work and a great group of partner organizations got outside again this week and showed that not all action has to wait for Washington.

I had the easy job this week. I was in Denver when the urban youth organization Colorado UpLift brought the kids out to tour the soccer stadium and take part in a skills clinic. I can’t point to the fruits of my labor like the teams in California and Arkansas can, but I know that we made our own mark in Colorado.

Rapids players John DiRaimondo and Nick LaBrocca showed everyone how it was done, and the kids did a great job of learning from the pros. The players did what they could with the old dogs, but we mostly… er… supervised.

We partnered up with the staff from the Democratic National Convention Committee. The DNCC has been on the ground here for a few months, and they are making a great effort at being the perfect guests while they are here. They started off by opening a $2 Million account at the Native American Bank in Denver. They are following up on that with a series of community service events, like the one he had this week.

I know that there was a lot on the line in D.C. this week. People are dying every day, overseas and right here at home. You need 51 votes to get a majority. You need 60 votes to close the debate. You need 67 votes to overturn a veto. And some times you need more than 62,000,000 votes to win an election.

Now, I don’t know what sort of votes we are gathering. I don’t know if we are ahead or behind.  I don’t even know what we are voting on, if anything at all.
But when I look around me and start counting, it sure feels like there is something somewhere that we are winning:


Two… Three…

Four… Five… Six… Seven… Eight… Nine… Ten…


Midnight Cowboying – My Case Against John Edwards

As you know, I don’t like John Edwards. See, I have a bless/curse of a photographic memory. I remember John Edwards, from when he entered the national stage taking the deposition in the Lewinsky fiasco during the Clinton Administration, to his cheerleading for the war in 2002. I also remember his platforms from 2004, which is why I am shocked he has reinvented himself once again.

But when he decided he wanted to be a populist this election cycle, I took that shit personally. The Farmer’s Alliance started in Lampasas, Texas in 1876, which later evolved in the Populist Party. So yeah, you could say I have little emotional attachment to the name. That is why I refuse to allow this pretender advance towards the throne.

Nothing sums up better some of the issues I have with John Edwards, than this interview on Meet the Press. When called to the mat for his constant reinventions as a candidate, he stands by his record, even though that does not reflect his rhetoric today. I have no idea why anyone would believe a word he says after this:

“You voted for the No Child Left Behind Act, back when you were in the Senate, now you call that a mistake. You voted for Free Trade wit China, back when you were in the Senate, now you say you wouldn’t do that. You vote for storing nuclear waste in Yucca in Nevada, now you say are against that. Of course Nevada caucuses are going to be early this time. In the Senate, you voted for Bankruptcy Reform. Now you say that is a mistake, you realize it hurts poor people. That’s a lot mistakes admit on big issues for a single term in the Senate, how do you explain it?

John Edwards: Well let me say first of all, what I would do as President of the United States and the positions I have taken on all the issues, including the ones you just spoke about, are my belief about what needs to be done and was the right thing to do.

From that say interview, here is what John Edwards said about his war vote:

Speaking of war, since he views it as a political calculation, this becomes critical:

Ah, back when being a hawkish Democrat looked like the path to the White House. And my, how he has triangulated since then. But I remember back when he said this in front of a room full of Democrats:

He gets booed. He gets booed because he was wrong. Worst yet, we have now found out that this whole speech was a political calculation. He sure thought waving the pom-poms was going put him over the top that year. Nice to know that our soldier were just props to him back then.

Here he is on 02/15/02 help spread the 9/11+Iraq meme.

And since he was on the Intelligence Committee, his co-sponsorship of the war becomes even more damning.

What was going on in those Intelligence Meetings?

Let’s ask a Democrat:

So both John Edwards and Hillary Clinton knew.

John Edwards knew, and yet still still co-sponsored the war.

So either Edwards or Durbin is lying, because on MSNBC “Buchanan & Press”, on January 7, 2003, John Edwards said this:

Seeing day after day, week after week, briefings on Saddam’s weapons of mass destruction and his plans on using those weapons. He cannot be allowed to have nuclear weapons.

More cheerleading.

Here he is supporting pre-emptive war without UN sanction:

Edwards declared in an op-ed column in the Washington Post on November 13, 2005:

“The argument for going to war with Iraq was based on intelligence that we now know was inaccurate. The information the American people were hearing from the president — and that I was being given by our intelligence community — wasn’t the whole story. Had I known this at the time, I never would have voted for this war.”

Ah history, funny things happen, especially just a week later when former Senator Bob Graham, the Chair of the Senate Select Intelligence Committee, in the same newspaper on November 20, 2005:

“There were troubling aspects to this 90-page document. While slanted toward the conclusion that Hussein possessed weapons of mass destruction stored or produced at 550 sites, it contained vigorous dissents on key parts of the information, especially by the departments of State and Energy. Particular skepticism was raised about aluminum tubes that were offered as evidence Iraq was reconstituting its nuclear program. As to Hussein’s will to use whatever weapons he might have, the estimate indicated he would not do so unless he was first attacked.”

“Under questioning, Tenet added that the information in the NIE had not been independently verified by an operative responsible to the United States. In fact, no such person was inside Iraq. Most of the alleged intelligence came from Iraqi exiles or third countries, all of which had an interest in the United States’ removing Hussein, by force if necessary.”

  “The American people needed to know these reservations, and I requested that an unclassified, public version of the NIE be prepared. On Oct. 4, Tenet presented a 25-page document titled ‘Iraq’s Weapons of Mass Destruction Programs.’ It represented an unqualified case that Hussein possessed them, avoided a discussion of whether he had the will to use them and omitted the dissenting opinions contained in the classified version. Its conclusions, such as “If Baghdad acquired sufficient weapons-grade fissile material from abroad, it could make a nuclear weapon within a year,” underscored the White House’s claim that exactly such material was being provided from Africa to Iraq.”

  “From my advantaged position, I had earlier concluded that a war with Iraq would be a distraction from the successful and expeditious completion of our aims in Afghanistan. Now I had come to question whether the White House was telling the truth — or even had an interest in knowing the truth.”

  “On Oct. 11, I voted no on the resolution to give the president authority to go to war against Iraq. I was able to apply caveat emptor. Most of my colleagues could not.”

So, for John Edwards to be telling the truth, Durbin and Graham have to liars. And the declassified NIE must also be forgery.

source url Why does everything John Edwards say not match his record?

He is now for the poor, yet he voted for Bankruptcy Reform.

He is now pro-environment, yet he voted for Yucca Mountain.

He is now pro-civil liberties, yet he voted for the Patriot Act.

He is now pro-union, even though he voted for Free Trade with China. He was also for giving Bush fast-track trade ability until an amendment about UNITE was taken out, the then only union backing him.

He was against off-shore bank accounts in his vice-president debate with Dick Cheney, but then worked for a corporation that used them.

He says he regrets the war vote, yet there is solid evidence of his cheerleading leading into the war.

He says he wishes he had had correct intelligence, yet other members of the same committee said it was right there in front of him.

So if you want a candidate who lies, and whose rhetoric is ever evolving and does not reflect his record, then vote John Edwards.


follow link My Top 5 Favorite Things Today

1) 1.00 USD = 1.00 CAD…

2) The art of Bansky…

3) Pro-war propaganda cartoons by Dr. Seuss (1941-1943) 

4)Texans turn against Bush’s war…

5) Time for the warm fuzzies!


Buying clomid online success stories This is an open thread.

Books, Consumers, and Politics

Well it was a quiet evening in the suburbs. Ate a quiet dinner and decided to run some errands getting ready for the weekend of projects. Pretty quiet, very normal…then we decided to drop by the Border’s bookstore for a couple of CDs.

The discount book aisle is one of my favorite places at Borders. Usually it’s a place to find history books and gardening books. Tonight it was a place for laughs…then pondering.

can i get accutane $2.99 George W. Bush: Portrait of a Leader by Karen Hughes (Hardcover – Nov 5, 2005) Original Hardcover $24.99

$3.99  Living History by Hillary Rodham Clinton (Paperback – April 2004) Original Trade Paperback price $16.00

At the end of the aisle…a table full of books on Living Green and guess what is front and center? 
$15.95  Earth in the Balance: Ecology and the Human Spirit by Al Gore (Paperback – Oct 31, 2006)

Well I laughed out loud when my husband pointed out the Hughes book at $2.99! Then snickered a bit at the HRC at $3.99. But…..we paid full price not to long ago for the Al Gore book. We also stood in line and got him to autograph our copy of An Inconvenient Truth when it came out.

So the questions as we drove home:
1. Does the market place, bookstores in particular, represent the political views of the consumer?
2. Do the bookstores sell in the hopes of influencing the community?

The local, independent bookstore here displays almost exclusively progressive writers. It is the bookstore that hosted Al Gore, and George Lakoff, and many others. Occasionally it will host a well known conservative, but no wingnuts!

But what about the chain stores? Borders from the old days was apolitical. They didn’t donate to either political party via PACS or their officers. Barnes & Noble was blue. My feeling is if the books are selling at full retail they’ll keep them on the shelf for as long they can. Check out some of the fiction sections where some writers 8 to 10 year old novels are still selling at full price. If the books are discounted it’s because the stores are trying to dump them. Chain stores, except perhaps Wal-Mart, don’t have the luxury of keeping inventory or trying to sell unpopular items.

Oh yeah…got the CD’s…and one book from the clearance aisle: Speeches that Changed the World, Simon Sebag Montefiore, Smith Davies Publishing, 2005. A compilation of great speeches throughout time. Compiled and published in the UK. Available at – 100% Blue!

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American Gods are Fickle


Introduction:  Never eat coffee ice cream before bed, moreso if you don’t even like the coffee ice cream part, but are just mining the little pieces of Heath bar buried within. 

I had strange dreams I had to get up & outline on paper, just to purge them.  I am sure some is the result of reading Neil Gaiman’s “American Gods” and “Anansi Boys” as of late…. so this essay will be a recounting, strange and discordant as dreams often are.  I have added nothing to smooth the story line that didn’t actually occur in the dream, yet am sure by this morning I have left some things out by process of waking diffusion. 

I often have lucid dreams, those in which one is variably aware one is dreaming.  This one is stranger yet, as some of the experiences were so vivid as to be only first person experiences, yet at other times the dream entered a narrative where I spoke and told this story to him, this  Literary American God, who did, yet did not resemble any living man.  I have never dreamed a narrative before, a recounting like I was already telling this story here.

Also, my parents, who are long deceased often appear in my dreams as bit players, and I am never shocked to find them there, even though I know they can’t be on some level even while dreaming them.  In my dreams it is normal, and I shrug that off, even as I dream it. 

I dreamed of you last night.  You American Gods are so fickle.

I was lying in bed, reading your book, perhaps not THE (as you will see later, but I did not know then) book, but was so excited I had to read it nonetheless right to the last page.  The hour was late, in this cottage type abode we were in, and I heard my Dad telling my son and his friend it was far past lights out, gruffly.

I heard his friend scamper off to his own room, and my son imploring my Dad for a little time to read.  He was admonished “Its past midnight, time to sleep!”

It was 2:30 by the time I finished your amazing words.  I could not wait to meet you, wondering if I would meet the man most knew you to be, or if you would reveal your God-self to me.

Sleep evading from both my busy mind and the soft snores coming from beside me, I whispered out of bed, barely disturbing the covers, making nary a sound.

I slipped, then, through the screen door on this cottage-like abode, taking care not to let it bang and stepped out on the expansive lawn. The heat was tangible, perhaps oppressive for one in a lesser mood, but I could smell the rain coming and I was happy.

The drops fell small, soft and warm against my naked skin.  I began to dance, a wild and primal dance full of elation.  I threw my head back and through open eyes saw the silvered droplets appear  only inches from my face out of the hidden inky sky, like they appeared from nowhere.  It surprised me not at all that the ever growing drops neither stung nor avoided my eyes.  I danced for you, an almost holy dance of love and tribute to God not forgotten.

It was an ecstasy of sorts, as I stopped and stood, rain becoming a deluge, wondering if you would love me as I loved you.

Returning to the door, I saw my son, still awake, going to the kitchen sink for a glass of water.  It struck me as curious that the cottage now resembled my old house as I approached the door.  It struck me stranger still that the door handle was hanging askew and useless on my side.  Surely I would have noticed that before.

Disregarding that I called to my son to let me in, thinking that admonishing him for still being up would kill the luck of having someone to let me in.  He took one look at my wet clothes (yes now clothed) and dripping hair and laughed, “Mom you are soooo weird, what were you doing out there in the rain?”  “Dancing,” I answered, “and I adore being weird.”

He opened the door and I stepped into… a restaurant.  We took the first booth, my hair doing the wild and curly thing it does wet, not caring about the stares of strangers seeing my soaking clothes.  After all, you could hear them complain of the heat.  I said loudly enough, “Step into the rain, it will soothe you.”  Instead they kept grumbling, but were now watching the rain through the windows.  One said, “By God, that looks like snow, that can’t be in this oven-like heat!” I laughed, knowing tonight anything was possible.

I knew both Jake and I should be back in bed, but was unsure how to get there from this place in my dream.  I started to lay my head on his lap, feeling the coolness of my face against his warm leg, when my Mom sat down across from us.

She said, “No, you aren’t done yet, I’ll take him to bed. He needs his sleep and you are dragging him into this.”  I sat up, and she added, “You are wasting time with the routine mother stuff in this dream, you are trying to distract yourself from finishing it,” with a knowing glance toward the back room.

She had a point and I knew it.

I walked through the open doorway to the crowded back room of the restaurant, and much to my surprise there was a 12 top of people I knew, including some of Jake’s classmates.  Surprised, I asked what in the world they were doing up this time of night.  One of his little girlfriends replied, “No one can sleep tonight, yet no one knows why, do you?”  I smiled and shook my head.

I realized I didn’t have time for another distraction and kept walking.  This was not a time to address more unimportant distractions.  I deemed they were probably of my own device anyway.

As I rounded a turn, I realized it had opened up into an airport concourse.  This I knew for a fact was where I was supposed to be.  This is where I was invited, should I choose to come, to join many of the great writers planning on meeting here shortly.  Including the one not many knew was an American God.

I sidled up to a tall bistro table, a small thing hidden in the shadows of an open bar along the concourse, where I would have a clear view without being much seen.  I pondered staying there and just watching the whole thing, not revealing myself at all.  I was invited, but didn’t belong, you see.

Almost dry now, I got up and walked over to the service bar to order, glancing in a mirror there pleasantly surprised that my hair actually looked wild but good.  I then noticed off to the side, a library display table, no, more of a bookstore table with only one book on it.  This one was really your book.  The one with all the real answers in it.

I picked it up and ordered a Merlot and some bread and seasoned olive oil for dipping.  I asked if it was for sale, and the bartender replied, “Oh yes!  Don’t you know, there is a Great Author landing shortly who is bringing the rest of the books.  We will be selling them today, and all proceeds go to charity.”  At my perplexed and somewhat amused look she added, “Its a really big deal.  There’s a secret invite-only meeting of people in his honor too!”  If she only knew….

I returned and hid behind my glass of red.  The sourdough arrived, obviously cut hours before and left in some warming drawer to dry out.  Even the oil couldn’t make it palatable. Tasting like dust in my mouth, I abandoned eating and hunkered down to wait and see what would happen next.  Then I remembered the book in my hand.

Then I read your book for the first time. I realized the other was just a dream. 

I could not recount, even at the time I read it, what was written there other than it was the tale of your true life.  The eons of Godhood that were lived out as a human among men. Your deeds, your healing, your former glory forming the writings of men.  Your growing unease with being forgotten.  Even man knows that Gods will whither and fade without someone to remember them.  To do rituals and pray to them.  Gods need us too.

As I leafed back to the end, I realized in a panic, this was the original manuscript.  No nice photos like most books, but actual things from your childhood, hand-made by you, before you were a God, perhaps.

One page had an actual cut out of bears, 3 of them pasted one atop the other, with toothpick spacers creating a shadowbox effect. I turned a corner on the biggest bear and saw the childish scrawl there, and realized it was a card for your Mom, made as a child. I could smell the paste.  My only thought?  They should NOT have sold me this one.  But why then was it there, the one, and I the only to find it?

There were pictures made of yarn and string, woven onto plastic mesh, impossibly realistic and hued. I ran my hand over the fibers, feeling their coarseness, amazed how alive the picture could be.   One you had made for a Navaho man, healing him and restoring his storytelling gift in days gone by. You must have been a young man then, perhaps a teen.

There were paintings and drawings in the back of this unlikely Bible, your book of real answers and stories.  The history of the written word and you who made it happen.

Then I was hooked.  The one of all the pines, with the small blondish girl, barefoot, an indiscernible look between fear and delight on her face in one corner… the White Horse across from her, with you there, invisible, but there to those who would know it.

I was in there, your book, hidden but there, and I felt you approved of me. You had planned on saving me at one time, with the mythical white horse thrown in just for my pleasure. I love horses.

I turned more pages, trying to find the faces of others you had inspired, inspired beyond those weakling Muses.  (The muses strengthened by being remembered now think of themselves as Gods, you know, but most actions attributed to them were yours, I thought to myself.)

Until I get to the back, where in your anger and disappointment you painted me with crayon, a caricature, scribbled blackly across my middle, almost scratched out in your tantrum, meant to be forgotten.  I had been erased.  Then….

You walked in, so very cloaked in obscurity, yet I knew from your shimmer who you were.  I stayed hidden.  My mind reeled, should I return the book, try and speak to you?  Should I act casual and mill among the crowd?

I feared myself.  You seemed so unobtrusive, a man who attracted no attention, yet I felt a deep sexual longing I was afraid would be so very transparent. How could I mask my awe and desire? Perhaps I would mingle and just avoid you through the evening, only to be filled with regret later, having missed my only chance.  You were angry with me.  I had to fix that.  I needed healing and my words back.

I did not want to go into babbling persona-me, the front I use for friendly strangers, the one that is so not me.  You would see right through that and think me ridiculous.  You were just a man standing there….

Then somehow I was standing in front of you looking into your eyes, seeing the disdain there. I kept on staring bravely, willing you to see who and what I am.

Eyes locked with mine you reached right into my solar plexis with both hands, and I offered no resistance.  You ran them around my soul, a soul that I too could now see, via your touch.

I saw the small thickish yellow pool among the watery white thin stuff, discovering right then that good and bad have a different consistency, not just hue.  Good is like water, bad is like snot.  You fingered the few tiny dark marbles floating in that lesser yolk, and I cringed in horror as you squeezed the softer brown mass, a soft squeezy-ball of recent ills done. 

I wondered, then if perhaps it would burst and stain the rest, wondered too, if the soul had an immune system that isolates bad behind a membrane like a body trying to keep infection from spreading. You drank my fear as you played with it, your mood darkening.

With a physical shudder, I felt, KNEW the horrible, powerful God you had once been. I lived through you the struggle as your former self wanted to rip my soul from my body, and chew those dark soul-sores, roll them in your mouth for their heat, then use my soul’s light to wash your face, like a aloe bath cooling a sunburn as you soaked up my unworthy power.

Terrified beyond belief, I offered no resistance still, willing you to feel my true self, the love, my good.  I wanted you to see you got me wrong, after all.  With a soundless sigh, I heard you say to yourself, “I am a gentle God, I am a gentle God now..” and relax your grip. You rinsed your fingers through the holy wash of my better soul and were done.

In the end you felt it all and left it in place, more due to your wanting to be this new version of yourself you worked so hard to create than from my goodness…..then

You brushed by me, not even looking at me, on your way to the mens room, and I stood there for a second before returning to my table, unconvinced that anything had happened at all between us.

Returning to my table, that terrible page remained, yet looked less sinister, more faded, a reminder of my flaws.

I got to keep the book, or at least you didn’t demand it back. I *am* writing again….

Was I forgiven? Or mayhap not, American Gods are fickle. 

Remember though, without a worshiper, Gods fade and are forgotten. You need me.  I love you.

Epilogue: I watched quietly as everyone met then, still sitting in my corner, wondering if I would get up the nerve to ever really meet you.  You are after all, just a man, aren’t you?

writing in the raw: now

(again… i clicked off the damned FP by habit… yikes – promoted by pfiore8)

Turn it up a little louder… because here i am

i’m not going to explain anything to you … why explain it???

i’ll seduce you with wanting to know more… and let you figure it out on your own

they don’t hear it… the explanations

… they don’t get it

we’re at some kind of place here… and all i want to do is break through

don’t hold me hostage to explanations… stop defining me

stop telling me what it is or isn’t

every word makes it harder to be free

one of my goals in life at 7 or 8 or 9 was to ride a HORSE. Simple. Get on and take off. Not having a horse, I used to be one, in the school yard. Snorting, pawing the dirt, galloping and then running, and trying to run so fast that I’d gather up everything I had to break through the very skin holding me in…

i’m back to that. i want to shatter the skin i’m in. be wrong. be fucking wrong. wallow in it. but be MY wrong. better to be wrong on my own than right somebody else’s way.

this is a rant, a rave. i don’t even know where i’m going with this. i had a story for tonight. but i don’t want to tell that tale.

i want to editorialize, in this very weird way. to say it and scream it: stop defining rules… stop watching. no more gatekeeping.

these feelings won’t go away… we can’t stop it by being like it.

we can’t stop it by being it.

i’m not afraid. open the gates. let them in. let me see if i can balance on the wheel, ek. how fucking serene can i become? how impenetrable am i?

or maybe that’s not it at all. maybe it’s how vunerable i am. how many times can you kill me. how many times can i get up. how can i love you even when you hate me. how can i give you everything and nothing at all…

it’s a world that is barely perceptible to me… my own mind. i struggle through it. i reach out to it. it eludes me. yet here i am. friendly. encouraging. wanting to love all of you. wanting to protect all of you. wanting to make it better… for all of you.

yet… here i am, escaped from my everday self. rolling through this and not knowing the outcome. the end. the consequences of being all of myself.

big toe in the water. it’s cold. it’s deep. i don’t know what’s out there. but i’m jumping the fuck in.

Cry Me A River. Offensive Republican Ads

Today at his press conference President Bush attacked over their placement of an in the New York Times concerning Gen. David Petraeus. How many times have Republican candidates ran ads that truly were offensive.

Max Cleland is a former United States Senator from Georgia and Vietnam veteran who was elected to the U.S. Senate upon the retirement of Sam Nunn in 1996. Mr. Cleland ran for reelection in 2002 and was opposed by Saxby Chambliss the Republican nominee.  Here is the subject of the add used against Cleland.

In 2002, Cleland was defeated in his bid for a second Senate term by Representative Saxby Chambliss. Voters were perhaps influenced by Chambliss ads that featured Cleland’s likeness on the same screen as Osama bin Laden and Saddam Hussein, ads that Cleland’s supporters claim questioned his commitment to homeland security.[6] (The ads were removed after protest from some prominent politicians including John McCain.

During the 2004 Presidential campaign there was the group known as Swift Boat Veterans For Peace which ran television ads accusing Democratic nominee Senator John Kerry of lying about the medals he received while serving with the U.S. Navy in Vietnam. 

First television advertisement

SBVT first went public with a May 4, 2004, press conference declaring opposition to Kerry. When the press conference garnered little attention, the organization decided to produce television advertisements. On August 5, 2004, SBVT began airing a one-minute television spot[21][22] in three hotly contested states in the ongoing presidential election. The advertisement, entitled “Any Questions?”, was a collage of short clips of 13 SBVT members, many who stated they “served with John Kerry” or had direct contact with Kerry during his service in Vietnam. The veterans appearing in the ad said Kerry was dishonest, unreliable, unfit to lead, and had dishonored his country and fellow veterans. Only one of the men in the advertisement (Steve Gardner) served under Kerry, but some sailed alongside Kerry’s Swift boat on multi-boat patrols.

Where were all those Patriotic Republicans while this was going on?

Then there is Jesse Helms the former Senator from North Carolina who made a career out of being a racist. Like this add used against Harvey Gantt  his opponent in 1990.

Helms used racial issues in many elections; for instance, in 1990, he ran the famous “Hands” television ad in a tough re-election race. The ad has become legendary in Southern political circles as the most direct appeal to white backlash in modern American politics. The ad played upon white voters’ fears that affirmative action policies might prevent them from getting a job that would go to a “less-qualified” black person From the 2006 Midterm Election

Michael J. Fox who suffers from Parkinson’s disease produced an add for Democrat Clair McCaskill who was running for the U.S. Senate from Missouri concerning his support for embryonic stem cell research. What was the reaction of the Right Wing:

Possibly worse than making fun of someone’s disability is saying that it’s imaginary. That is not to mock someone’s body, but to challenge a person’s guts, integrity, sanity.

To Rush Limbaugh on Monday, Michael J. Fox looked like a faker. The actor, who suffers from Parkinson’s disease, has done a series of political ads supporting candidates who favor stem cell research, including Maryland Democrat Ben Cardin, who is running against Republican Michael Steele for the Senate seat being vacated by Paul Sarbanes.

Was Rush Limbaugh condemned by those on the right? No. If say Al Franken had made the same judgment on a Republican seeking elective office he would have been condemned by all sides and most likely would have lost his job with Air America Radio. 

Republicans are tagging Democratic opponents across the country for wanting to “give Social Security benefits to illegal immigrants.” But nobody’s proposing paying benefits to illegals, not until and unless they become US citizens or are granted legal status.

In all these cases the Republicans and there supporters paid a small price for these offensive adds. Double standard is a term which comes to mind when considering the amount of hypocrsy shown by the Right Wing and their enablers concerning these adds and the issues they involve.


Al Gore: AU/US “Bonnie and Clyde” Environmental Outlaws

crossposted at Daily Kos and Truth & Progress

Photo Sharing and Video Hosting at Photobucket

If you’ve seen the movie Bonnie and Clyde, you’ll remember the stylish Faye Dunaway as Bonnie Parker and Warren Beatty as the roguish Clyde Barrow.  Parker and Barrow were Depression-era bank robbers in the American heartland who captured the attention of many around the country with their daring exploits in the 1930’s.  You also know how the movie ended. 

Upon arriving in Sydney, Australia yesterday, Al Gore blasted the environmental policies of both Australia and the United States.  Will the AU-US partnership in blocking meaningful change to combat the problems posed by Climate Change hold up and for how long?

Gore is trying to cause a split between ‘Bonnie’ (Australia) and ‘Clyde’ (United States) and explicitly suggesting that being an outlaw can, ultimately, be harmful to your environmental health.

According to The Sydney Morning Herald, here’s what Gore said in a speech yesterday

The former US vice-president Al Gore says a change of policy by Australia to support the Kyoto Protocol would be the final nail in the coffin of the Bush Administration’s opposition to the climate change treaty.

Addressing a $1000-a-head business lunch at Darling Harbour, Mr Gore used one of his favourite lines – describing Australia and the US as “Bonnie and Clyde” environmental outlaws – as he launched a passionate attack on the climate policies of John Howard and George Bush.

He called on Australia to change course, saying if it did, “it would be impossible for the United States to withstand the pressure” to join the rest of the world in ratifying Kyoto.

A Passionate Al Gore Blasting the Environmental
‘Axis of Evil’ Yesterday in Sydney, Australia

Gore’s trip, only a few weeks before the expected Australian elections this coming November, raises a couple of interesting questions

* What specifically are Gore’s objections to this unholy partnership between Australia and the United States? 
* Can Gore, through his scathing criticism of the Australian government headed by conservative Prime Minister John Howard, cause a change in governments in the next election? 

A bit of background on Australian politics.  The Australian government, led since 1996 by Liberal (read: conservative) Party Prime Minister John Howard, has been a part of the coalition of the bribed and coerced in Iraq since 2001.  Additionally, along with the Bush Administration, it remains adamantly opposed to reaching a “post-Kyoto accord” on Climate Change.  The opposition Labor Party, led by Kevin Rudd, has promised full cooperation on such an accord.  And, has been leading 55%-45% in the latest poll, though Howard’s party remains optimistic that it can win the election which must be held by mid-November.  Is this interference in another country’s upcoming elections?  Gore, obviously, hasn’t commented on that aspect on his trip but given his low opinion of Bush’s environmental and Iraq policies, I’m sure it would give Gore great satisfaction in seeing a Bush ally go down to political defeat. 

The Melbourne Herald Sun, the country’s biggest-selling newspaper, reports that Gore will attend a major environmental forum tomorrow in Melbourne, where he’ll meet with additional Labor Party leaders.  The environment figures to be a major issue in the election

Tomorrow’s forum at Docklands features speakers discussing sustainability issues such as transport, water and energy.

Australian of the Year Mr Flannery will feature in a session about the pressures on ecosystems, highlighting eroding hotspots around the world and strategies to reduce negative impacts on biodiversity.

(Labor’s Environmental Spokesman, Peter) Garrett said Labor had promised to fund a $50 million Australian Solar Institute and provide $10,000 low-interest loans for green home improvements such as solar hot water systems.

Commenting on reports about the extraordinary loss of arctic sea ice this summer, Gore added this is his Sydney speech

“In the last three weeks, the amount of ice melting at the Arctic has been completely unprecedented,” he said.

“In six days, an area the size of the US state of Florida disappeared. The week before that, an area almost twice the size of Britain disappeared… the experts are saying if we don’t act with urgency and dispatch, the entire polar ice cap could be completely gone in less than 23 years.”

One observer said the former vice-president spoke with “missionary zeal”.

Raising his voice almost to shouting, Mr Gore said: “It’s about survival.”

Memo to Al Gore: after you’ve accomplished your mission in Australia, come back to the United States as soon as possible.  The other outlaw partner of this environmental ‘Axis of Evil’ could use some tough love.  We desperately need regime change here as well as a proven, experienced, and visionary leader providing sorely-needed leadership on issues such as Climate Change, Iraq Occupation, and restoring this country’s economy.  You’ve provided leadership before and you can do it again.  Otherwise, we’re going down like Bonnie and Clyde.

As you said after the 2000 Election

“If I had to do it all over again, I’d just let it rip,” Gore said a year ago. “To hell with the polls, the tactics and all the rest.  I would have poured out my heart and my vision for America’s future.”

Indeed, “let it rip,” Al.  This is your moment in our nation’s history.

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magnetic poetry

Simple concept, if you have the time and feel like flexing your brain muscle, here are the words and phrases:

pinprick; dual exhaust; icepick; radiator; coal shaft; continental; overdrive; seaside; bent; pile of rust; sapling; strewn; creeping; simulated; baghdad; roughshackle; steel pin; happy; love shucked; peanut brittle; encapsulated; freeform; wormholes; black oak; cigarette; slight shuffle; trombone; into; out of; free from; underneath; down; sideways; sawdust; bent feather; switchblade; singing like; broke out; feeds; live; saturday; placate; conjure; a; an; this; those

You may have noticed there is no “I” or “me”.  First one to use all the words wins…..ummm…..uhhhhh…..a free self addressed stamped envelope which you may mail to yourself when you are feeling lonely.

On your marks, get set, begin!

On Religion and Buddhism at Docudharma

Docudharma is not a religious site. It is not a Buddhist site. It is a WEB site.

Dharma is not a religious term.

The letters buhd in my UID do not have anything to do with Buddha. The name is a corruption of Bodhidharma ….cutened up for blogging purposes.

You do not have to be a Buddhist, hahaha, to blog here. No one here claims to be a perfect Buddhist master, we are not agents of whatever the Buddhist equivalent of Aipac is. We have NO interest in spreading Buddhism or converting anyone or evangelizing in any way.

Since it has been (can you believe this shit?) the subject of gossip on the gossip sites I am more than happy to out my PERSONAL spiritual beliefs, this is a choice I am making….because it amuses me. As does watching the discussions on the gossip sites about this site. They seem intent on proving that we are not perfect and finding things to attack us with.

This seems to be INCREDIBLY important to them!

I will save them the trouble. We are EXACTLY as perfect as they are…which is to say…not at all. Hypocrisy and inconsistency are (just like the RW Fundies, btw) the two clubs they seem to want to beat people with. I will save them the trouble.

I am an inconsistent hypocrite….just like them…just like every human being.

As to my spiritual beliefs. I call myself a taoist for short. If you want to get technical, I suppose you could call me an anarchically unorthodox taoist. I have read the major taoist texts…..30 years or so ago. I do not study the texts. I study the tao. The texts are the finger pointing at the moon.

Here is my Dogma in it’s entirety: Karma, it is not a philosophy,….It’s The Law.

Here is a clue, judging other peoples religious beliefs is petty. Trying to judge other peoples religions and other peoples practice of them is being willfully stupid.

But of course the bottom line in all discussions of belief, religious, political or gardening…..If I am not attempting to IMPOSE my beliefs on you….

It really is none of your business what the fuck I believe, what I do in my PRIVATE life….or for that matter, who I am.


Joe Trippe, Dean’s former campaign guy and

now, the campaign guy for John Edwards, in an appearance on Chris Matthew’s Soap Box today, floated an idea that, apparently, the Edwards campaign will use to prod fellow Democratic candidates. The idea: Unhook all Democratic Presidential candidates (indeed all Democrats running for office) from the inside the beltway lobbyist. The purpose, in Trippe’s view, is to raise the Democratic candidates to a higher moral plane and put the Republicans on defense, defending what most American’s view as immoral, probably the fraudulent injection of lobbying money into the various campaigns. Trippe thinks that this will strike a harmonious chord with the voting public and thus gain the high road for Democrats. Maybe it would, but I doubt that he will get many takers.

The one fact certain is that political campaigns cost money. He (or she) who most efficiently collects and spends the most is likely to be elected. Elections are successfully purchased when clever candidates deliver clever campaigns, clever advertisements (especially attack Ads), clever spokespeople make clever speeches depicting the wrongs of the opposition, and when all this is paid for by a clever campaign finance manager supplied by the clever contributors …in national elections, more often than not, the K Street lobbyist. The two operable requirements are cleverness and money. Cynical, yes, probably, but very close to the truth. Hillary’s view that “lobbyist are people too” should not be the motto of the Democratic presidential campaign. Democrats should help America to eliminate this unfortunate destruction of our political system.

Some would argue that spurning money (any body’s money) is political suicide. I don’t think so. Accepting every dollar, no matter the taint associated, is destroying our democracy. Shall we continue that destruction or take a risk and maybe find a better way.

Though I am not a supporter of John Edwards, necessarily, I think he is onto something. The American people assume that politics equals sleaziness. Both our political parties have given our people every reason to come to that conclusion. Edwards, in advocating (and practicing) the elimination of lobbyist money, puts himself on a moral high-ground pedestal. He has invited the other Democrats to join him. I think it is high time that they do so. Let the Republicans defend why they are taking large sums of money from the American Petroleum Institute, Exxon, BP, Shell and others as they continue to advocate the war in Iraq.

A growing number of American’s are not stupid. 

Collateral Damage

  Photo courtesy of Crooks and Liars.

She’s next to her father.  You fill in the rest of the story.

Meanwhile, Bush vetoed again a stem cell research bill which would allow blastocysts destined to become medical waste to be used for vital research into neurological degenerative disorders, spinal cord injury and brain diseases.  Blastocysts cannot develop into babies unless they are implanted into the lining of a uterus.  They are not human in shape, development and function – they have no differentiated brain cells or sensory cells.  They do not see, they do not feel, they do not think, they do not smell – they are not human, and never will be without successful maternal uterine implantation.

About a week after the sperm fertilizes the egg, the fertilized egg (zygote) has become a multicelled mood swings while using propecia pills blastocyst. A blastocyst is about the size of a pinhead, and it’s a hollow ball of cells with fluid inside.

Here’s a picture of what Bush wishes to throw into the medical disposal trash bag, rather than to be the source of treatment for disease, injury and disability:

Medical waste.  The size of a head of a pin.

Millions of people who will be denied life-saving treatment.  Children in the thousands who are bereft of their mothers and fathers – the children of US soldiers and marines, the children of Iraqi and Afghani civilians.

All just collateral damage.

Meanwhile, Bush is doing everything in his power (and what isn’t?) to block expanded S-CHIP healthcare funding.  He is mandating preventable deaths and suffering by his actions.

Not in my name.

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