No-it-all

Once in the not so far ago, there was a piece of land co-opted from original owners. With turkey quills and pestled plants, the upstarts wrote words to spell the country and tide it over the trauma created by inhouse wars and outhouse battles.

The piece of land imported shiploads of folks to help them do their chores. It's not easy to work a country into the ground.

The country filled up and overflowed. In time it got fat with glut and thin with moral. The right and left kept seeing through fractured glass.

The pols got viral nasties, threw up lies and carried on with carnal and fraudulent peccadildoes.

There came a new leader from ballots and not from the black robes with blindfolds. The right kept flinging wrongs until nasty infected feverish skins.

Divided they fall, it is said. Lo, they did. They split the country into two ~ unlike the three recommended for the country they attacked in a case of wrongheaded stupids.

And so, that's the way it was when the people couldn't get along in the street or in their tents, indeed even in a biggish country. Instead of working together, they let the baby slip out with the bathwater and the once mighty country drained its coffers into two weeny ones.

♣~~~♣~~~♣

Spit it Out, John...

My sense of humor has been sorely stretched by the moronity of the last eight years.

Will the McCain (who repeatedly vowed that he knew the location of Osama bin Laden and could bring him to justice when he became president) make that information available even though he lost the election?

After all, how can he continue to say that he's committed his life for this country and keep a secret like that for himself?

Bah humbug.

***

Return of Blackbeard

India shot up a pirate ship. Way to go, India!

I'm beginning to link pirates with Paulson & Pals Perk and Burning Bush Bull-etins.

Pre-emptive war pretty much spread its parachute over all things piratical. It's not enough to bankrupt a country by a faulty war, there must be added threats. Such as:

The economy's in the tank if taxpayers don't fork over $700,000,000,000 to the crooks who perpetrated the fraud. Okay, so taxpayers fell for this, the perps have the bucks and the economy's still in the tank.

Where's tough love for robbers? As in: Sorry. You can't have it. Your fortune has been recalled. Go away, leave me alone. I'll hire someone else. I owe you nothing, you did a cra*ppy job. If you insist on begging, you'll stand in the corner of your cell til the cows come home.

Fear comes wrapped inside threats. In olden days, messengers were unceremoniously disposed of. Now, piracy appears to be acceptable.

We've come a long way toward protecting the criminal and robbing the blind.

***

Pomposity and Prosperity Plead Poverty

'Big Three CEO's Flew Private Jets to Plead for Public Funds' was the headline on the ABC News page.

The woman who drove her Maserati to the welfare office to collect food stamps is the first image that comes to mind.

Automobile icons, these men each traveled in his private jet to Congressional hearings where they begged taxpayer funding to get them out of debt they created. They claim to be important to the economy. Whew. A triple spin without ice.

It's my understanding that a first-class flight on a regular carrier, while a bit inconvenient for those without the coj*ones to panhandle in style, would have cost each of these tycoons in the neighborhood of $500 as opposed to the $20,000 estimated cost for this trip aboard their ego buckets.

The employees and the country lose. The icons win. I say, 'Let's take the auto companies and turn them over to intelligent single mothers/fathers or retirees who are accustomed to budgeting.' These pompous poo*ps don't deserve private planes or parachutes. Bah humbug.

No wonder we Americans (and much of the global community) have become so disenchanted with the wealthy and those who will do whatever it takes to keep themselves intact, at whatever cost to the general public.

There's no elephant in the room, Virginia, it's full of skunks. No offense to Disney's Flower.

Open Letter to Sarah Palin

Please, stay home and keep your mouth zipped. Quite frankly, if I don't see you again it will be too soon.

You spent your entire veep campaign spouting hate and stirring the cauldron of devisiveness. You spread rumors, lies and nastiness.

Watching you whine, grin, wink and lie was less than a proud moment for this female. When you throw dirt, don't cry when it comes back.

Signed:
An Independent Voter


***

Plum Pie

♠

Once not so long ago an ol' solon, chip off the burning bush, created a case before the dumbling clowns of a biggish country. His aging was sorely evident and became a largish talked about point so the wisher scurried to the frozen north to pull out a plum ~ a hot young chick who talked like a redneck and told lies same-ish as those told by the big house drunk.

In wilding speak, she professed to be for the misses of the world but she missed the mark and in due time, the chips were down and the jig was up.

Femmes murmured, 'She doesn't speak for me. I hate hockey.' 'She doesn't speak for me, I have two kids.' 'She doesn't speak for me ~ I've come too far to lose.' 'Aunt Sally fought too hard for me to vote, to be able to buy land and to kick a crooked man under the bus.' 'If she and the old dude gain the throne, witch burning days'll come again.'

Lo! The femmes saw the light, took back their country and cooked up one fine plum pie.

♠

Don't Count Your Eggs, Part 1

Long long ago, chickens laid eggs in part of the farmer’s barn. Each morning, the farmer’s wife went to the hen part, and moved the birds from their nests in order to swipe their eggs. When she had harvested enough eggs, the family went to the nearest town to sell them to folks who didn’t have chickens.

The family returned home after selling all their eggs and put this nest egg in a holder designed to look like a pig. When this chicken feed filled the pig, the farmer hacked it to pieces and the family used the money to buy cows.

The cows were sent to the barn where the farmer’s wife could find them each morning after she stole the eggs. She milked the cows for all they were worth. The family took the milk to town and sold it along with the eggs. When they came home, they again pigged their coins until there was enough chicken feed to buy a real pig or two.


Part 2

Don't Count Your Eggs, Part 2

This continued for many years and the people were happy and well fed. Then the sages in the big white house, devised a plan whereby the farmer could make more money if he didn’t generate so many chickens, milk and pigs. Soon after that, the farmer signed a piece of paper that promised him more money than he had ever seen just for not producing these farming things.

For a long time, this way of life continued. People were happy and didn’t notice that a lot of people were starving.

And then, a strange thing came to pass. Childless people began to buy eggs removed right from the farmer’s wife who didn’t need them. The farmer didn’t know how many eggs his wife was selling so she quit putting all her chicken feed in the pig pot and began to set some aside from herelf.

In time, there were so many people hatched from uncounted eggs that the wise people who paid the farmer for not having eggs changed their mind and farming once again became a good thing.

Oh, say, I see...

Today is the first of the remaining days of the War With Many Names.

Each day, while looking at the photographs of the children killed, I apologize for the cowboy-in-chief and his posse who are more concerned with their coffers and corruption than the outcome of this grossly mismanaged invasion of a soverign nation.

I apologize to those dead children for a lazy nation fully distracted by steroid abuse, celebrity malfunctions, dog fights, saving wolves and stone throwing.

Each day I watch the legislators in action to see their actual words and at night I watch the news distort what was said.

I watch as the same cowboy and posse aim for Iran, while our borders remain open and our nation fills with cells and hatred.

I've watched the growth of the second recession since the current reign began.

I hope there's time to save what remains of our United States.

Softshoe Mission Accomplished

Once upon a not so long ago, a megalomaniac convinced himself he was king and did softshoe tappings (like the stall hoppin' gop from hidey-ho) on the stage to giggle up the news ferretlesses while waiting for a lateshow pretend-bloomer.

Lo, the ferretless later mused in cutesy fashion about how the tapper jived onstage as if he were the happiest king alive and still knew not that his robes had gone on without him.

One newly homeless shrew shouted, 'Harken, joes. He's a carrier of the double recession gene and monetile dysfunction. Always pulls out early. Today, he was jivin' up his fave tune of Mission Accomplished.'

And, behold, it came to pass that this crooked bumpkin spore did erect his own rapture by looting carts of early green while chucking the regular joes' assets down with the dow.

Played by Words

War on Terror is calculated to inspire fear and trust in our failing government. It's a drummed up hoofbeat to keep the minions under their beds.

Homeland Security sounds like a proper government function until you delve below the hype and see that it, too, is a worthless and calculated phrase. Nice job, bunkie.

We have no intention of staying in Iraq is sharply defied by building an expensive and self-sustaining George's Palace, as the disgruntled Iraqi's named it, as well as several other bases inside that unfortunate country.

They will destroy our peace and prosperity says the dubya in reference to the other party. This is an affront to thinking people everywhere. Peace? What about the war? Prosperity? The number of citizens who live below the poverty level has been steadily increasing since 2000 and is reaching Homeless security.

We've been keeping you safe is an oft-heard phrase issued from that house of white but the truth is that safe has been an accident and not the act of that house.

Cut and run are words intended to indicate turning tail and losing. This phrase is hauntingly familiar and bears close relationship to stay the course. Both phrases rest on the inability to say 'we did it wrong and we're gonna lasso this ghost to the ground, even if it kills us.' Shades of Carroll.

Family values is a phrase that indicates good stuff but turns out to be the line with which a few crooks tie the silent majority to the dirty wheel.

It takes little time to look up these phrases and find out what's being done in our name.

The Case of Disappearing Beer

Long ago, an avuncular figure adopted a stolen country. Sam claimed to care for allbodies' interests in return for full allegiance. Time lapsed and Sam largened with hot air while the regular joes were sucked too small.

Lo, avuncular Sam gained confusion and unsureness and fell into the trap of protecting themselves against themselves like a Robin Hood gone wild. In due time, the uncle epiphanied and morphed to UncleNanny who sought to save the world from itself.

So, in case a joe smoked and a fire occurred in that silly joe's area it looked to UncleNanny that the smoking stick caused the problem. Not the joe, but the smoking stick itself. (see Self Extinguishing Smoking Sticks)

In time, joes who beered were opposed by those who didn't as the great divider took hold in the let's-see-if-this-works land. It came to pass that UncleNanny declared beer would heretofore drink itself.

Then UncleNanny got to trafficking in roads. If a joe ran off a road UncleNanny decreed that the road be up-sized to stop that joe from running off at the mouth of a curve. Moron that later.

And so it was that UncleNanny slew the world by case and conundrum.

Absurd Flu Strikes Again

The absurd flu strikes again.

Concern about Larry Craig, a toe-tapping wide-stanced congressman from Idaho, Iowa or Ohio (commentators and pundits cannot be sure which state he owns) steals print and internet headlines as well as TV and YouTube screens.

While people watch and discuss this sexadillo for hour after hour, our own B-52's from Minot, ND fly over several states with nuclear warheads…and few news agencies cover it. Thank you, Grand Forks Herald for the report...

Surely, this is a mythstery. How can it happen and why is there so little outrage?

It's possible we'll end humankind by our own mistake from hell.



King of Grim, Fractal created in Apophysis

Subprime and Greed

What were they thinking?

Where were the heads of the lenders who were making huge mortgage loans to unqualified buyers under the clever marketing tool of creative financing? While they pocketed big bucks, I watched interviews (this was several years ago) with consumers who were nonchalant about what would happen when they needed to pay more than a minimum amount of interest when required to pick up the loan principal that waited in the trap around the corner. Most of them, when asked how they'd be able to pull this off, replied they didn't think they would be able to pull it off. But in the meantime, they'd live the rich and famous lifestyle and Peter take the hind. Only a few of them didn't appear to understand what was ahead for them - contrary to what GWB claims.

So now. The subprime companies who invented this bubble of ignorance and greed are being bailed out by the Feds - yes the taxpayers' Feds - much like the clean up after the S&L fallout.

Where were they? Those people concerned with their own bucks? Those people with no concern for those who would end up picking up the pieces? If I could see this, why couldn't the smart heads, the leaders, the professed economical advisers see the obvious?

If the money changers saw the outcome and continued to stay the course, what does that say about leaders and business people?

Titanium Hips and Auto Repair

My previous auto mechanic worked for several months off and on and replaced some pricey parts only to find the problem was still active. Eventually when I was down to my last credit card, he shook his head and said, 'I hate to give up, but I have no idea where to go now.' I mentally patted myself on the back when I refrained from giving him an idea.

Next, I said to a new mechanic, 'It must be hard working on cars with all this new technology.' He replied, 'This car is far too old to have new technology.'
That repair, actually two or so, consumed my last card.

Then, the car radio antenna remained up when it should go down/off and a smart grandson disconnected it before it burned down both car and garage. Maybe I should have just let it blow. However...

What I'm looking for now is a radio person. A radio person with a penchant for dealing with old technology because I know now that I'm not as current as I thought half a dozen plastic cards back.

And, I wonder if I could end up with an old car overflowing with new technology. Is that like replacing old hip joints with titanium? Or is it simply a prayer that both my car and my teeth will outlast my breath and that there will always be one more plastic card?

Hats off to repair people everywhere!

Earthquakes Swarm

Yellowstone Park changes constantly. The earthquake that formed Hebgen Lake was felt in the Coeur d'Alene area on August 17, 1959. Several family friends lost their lives there. One of the survivors wrote an incredible book detailing the horrors of that night.

Massive land shifts occurred and I've often wondered why that was the last one that rumbled through here. The first time I crossed the Park after that 1959 earthquake, it seemed the earth tilted like a supered highway and gave me the feeling of passing through a giant vortex. Bubbling pots of mud and spitting hills of steam reveal how much lies hidden beneath the surface.

Photos and more information available here

Political Anime

tanks lug across the sand
tugging boys and girls in camo
bait for bombs and fire devices

newly defined evil hoards
the screen, deciders politicize
a stateside campus loss

remotes in casual hands
click the scene, surf to ugly betty
nodding heads return to sand

Monologue vs Dialogue

Free speech demands that each of us can spout any amount of rancor, pith and ugliness but it doesn't preclude that a price can be extracted at some point.

It's hard to believe the uproar that followed a shock jock's bomb tossed at a femme basketball team. Suddenly that sort of stupid attack registers as surprise or racist. It's also a little more than sexist. This was no rare occurrence and unless humanity changes, it will continue.

There's an us vs. them mentality that disguises itself as dialogue. Listening carefully, at least as long as the stomach can stand it, reveals that dialogue is no more than a shouting match. TV, music, comedy chambers, blogs and street corners are full of hate and righteous opinion. The loudest voice calls attention and even when it's temporarily silenced, the rage continues.

I wish that hot air and accusation could be turned into something more positive - into something that might help us see that inside each of us is a nice person trying to find his way.

We've come a long way but unless we get a grip, that journey may have brought us near the end of the road.

iRobot and Friendly Robotics

Reluctant to count myself as a lazy femme, the initial decision to purchase iRobot’s RoomBa to vacuum seemed hedonistic but when it vacuums under the couch, treadmill and bed, it’s worth its weight in gold and earns the badge of necessity. I watch and lift my feet off the floor (I learned that from others in an earlier life) when it passes by.

The low pile of the carpet in my home renders the robot so efficient, I can’t resist shouting ‘good job’ as it trundles about earning its keep. When I grudgingly haul the upright vacuum out of the closet to do a ‘deep cleaning’, there aren’t enough leftovers to dust a bag.

DirtDog, the newest addition to my iRobot’s product line, is a garage-cleaning yellow machine which doubles as a patio vacuum while promising not to fall in the pool or suck up sleeping bodies. iRobot has a Scooba for kitchen floors but its twelve-inch diameter is too large for my wee kitchen.

Friendly Robotics makes a lawn mower. I’m trying to justify this for my lawn which is about two times larger than my kid-size kitchen. While I’m waiting for this justification to take place, I dream of the day when iRobot invents iDustBa, iPaintBa, iCookBa, iMassageBa, iLaunderBa.

Maybe I’ll live long enough to become a smiling lay-about.

In a more serious vein, I’d like to add that iRobot also makes robots for military uses to help ours in other parts of the world which is something I’d love to do, but can’t. Check their site - it’s incredibly enlightening.



iHeart*iRobot - mangled fractal

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The House That Card Wrought

When there was a maroon who held a card close to his chest and flashed red herrings to confuse the beholders, the foundation of the land of theocracy resembled one built on sand.

The maroon oathed to become a uniter but his keys stuck and he divided into threes and pieces. A top card helped him keep everything under moving shells and sometimes mortars until it looked like a magician couldn't pull a hat from any cat.

A great snafu emerged when a mouth caught onto a biggest lie and began to threaten to turn back the clock if truth didn't float. The first maroon and the second maroon and no few others bet that if they played fifty-two pickup, the joker would get lost in the game and the joes wouldn't have a clue which deck held the facts.

Huge numbers of joes shouted disenchantment until the maroon (wannabe king) tossed his cards and regressed to tapping wires to keep fear on an overload. When the house collapsed, the outed andy scribed the hat contents to anybody who listened but the biggest maroon and his suits kept shouting about fighting there and not fighting here until the joes laid down again, huddled in fear and didn't believe what the third card down said.

Lo! Nearly thirty publics were surprised when the house of cards toppled even though there were enough sticks to prop it upright.