Cultural Shifts

I joined a 1970's Facebook memory page awhile back. The first thing I did was remind myself this was not going to be a page I vented my angry political crap. I had other places for ranting, raving, showing my displeasure with the world politic at this time. Some pages should be reserved for apolitical and non-religious fun and nonsense. Leave the hate and discontent at home.

Sadly, politics seems to stalk me wherever I go in Facebook. Anywhere people engage each other, ugliness, hate, and discontent is always waiting just below the surface for any chance to ruin an otherwise pleasant and funny conversation. I fucking hate it.

So, the image to the right posted on the 70's memory page. Of the many comments I read, most were just straight up reactions to the memory, not interpretative memories that may have drastically mutated in the ensuing years that brought us to how we remember those good ole days today.

Now that I have pondered the meme awhile now, I realize the meme asked for it to get political with the words "cultural shift". 

Nothing fires up a lot of us Boomers than words like "cultural shift". Most of us are sure it was better then than it is now. Seems we want to blame some group we are not part of for the perceived sad state of affairs our world is in now. It's the kids, the rich, the Democrats, the GOP, atheists, Bible Thumpers, the brown immigrants; it's always someone other than ourselves. 

No one seems to want to acknowledge that what we have today is a group grope. It took all of us to create what we are living through now. In my opinion, no group is as bad as my Baby Boomer generation at condemning the world we helped to create. When a Millennial, a G throught Z generation punk blames us and wished we were dead and gone, well, we deserve it I guess. Many of us felt the same about our parents from "the Greatest Generation" who busted our balls during those wonderful1960's and 1970s.

The more things that change, the more they remain the same. My mom always contended there was nothing new under the Sun, just reiterations with subtle twists. And now that I have lived for over 70 years, I realize that she was right.

The story remains the same; it's the set that changes. 

Later ..............................

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A perfect song to match my mood at the moment is, "The Way It Is", by Bruce Hornsby. It is a beautiful song with a serious message. I try to resist, but every time I hear it, my eyes go moist.

I Miss Carl, the Original Space Cowboy

Two Carl Sagan meme's found my Facebook page this morning. Both were marvelous quotes he came up with many years ago now. One was so prescient, it could have been written yesterday. The other, which sits to the left, is just an observation from a man whose life was spent observing. In so few words he encapsulates the Universe we live in and how special it is to be part of it.

I wish that I had paid more attention to Carl Sagan when he was alive and in his prime. I first became aware of Carl when I watched his PBS mini series, "Cosmos: A Personal Voyage" several years after it had first aired. He blew me away by his ability to make the big complicated ideas of Science make sense to a dumass like me. Sadly, as I was hard into my self interested journey of me and mine at the time, you know, family , job, blah, blah, blah ...... I paid only occasional attention to him after that.

It was only after his death in 1996 that I came to truly appreciate what a great mind he had and maybe that he was the greatest prognosticator of the last several centuries. He was not just an observer of the Heavens, his chosen field, he was able to use the phenomenal analytical skills he developed early in his life to bring together the threads that connect everyone of us to every little thing in the Universe. Nothing happens that we are not connected to. Nothing.

His grand notion of all inclusive connectivity has not caught on with everyone, but there are enough of us who have turned on that light, that I see this realization eventually catching on even with the dunderheads who refuse to even entertain the notion that everything is connected.

Carl may be dead, but his impact I think is only beginning. RIP Carl. I miss you.

Keep it 'tween the ditches ....................................

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I thought a fitting tune for today's post would be "Space Cowboy", by The Steve Miller Band. for me, Carl was the original Space Cowboy.

The Man in the Tree Re-Visited

A seven year old image I posted on Facebook crossed my page a few days ago. No need to describe it. You can see it right there on the left. The accidental visage that appeared on this trunk gave him his name, "The Man in the Tree". It took 30 plus years for him to reveal himself to me, but he finally did.

A man of few words, our conversations were decidedly one sided; his response usually just a branch swaying or a hiss as he used the wind to convey his feelings. Regardless, he and I have had more than a few conversations over the years. His steady calm demeanor have more than a few times helped me to calm myself, regain some perspective as I shed anxiety over any current stupidity I might have been experiencing. A relief valve I guess. Yes, a relief valve.

I first met the future Man in the Tree when he was just a two inch sapling in the late 1960's. No one knew exactly what species he was as the previous owner of the house had planted him shortly before they decided to sell the house. Based on the flowers that would eventually grace our dooryard, we called it a Weeping Cherry.

The image to the right is one of the last decent flowerings the Old Man put out. Not sure, but I think it was maybe from the same year the above image was taken.

Being of a fruit variety, the tree has always had issues with some rot. It was only in the last decade the rot began to cause limbs to fall and bark to fall off, leaving deep cavities that seemed to go right to its core. And last year an invasive climbing vine found it and really did some damage.

I plan to attempt to clean it up with a dim hope of saving it. If nothing else, I am going to attempt to propagate some of the many suckers it produces every year.

I am bringing up the Man in the Tree because like him, I have had a tough few years recently. Though both of us are hanging in there, I seem or might be turning a corner for the better. If I am, I hope to bring the Man in the Tree with me. ...................... We'll see.

Keep it 'tween the ditches ....................................

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I immediately thought of a tune on one of Fleetwood Mac's under appreciated albums, titled "Bare Trees". It came out during the period when they were evolving out of a blues band and into a pop band. Though I loved their music when they played blues, I accepted their inevitable metamorphosis from ugly blues larva into their reimagined Pop Music butterfly. Anyway here is Fleetwood Mac's title track from their their sixth album released in 1972. Here is "Bare Trees".

Eating Cats & Dogs

“If I have to create stories so that the American media actually pays attention to the suffering of the American people, then that’s what I’m going to do.”

       JD Vance ~ Sept 15, 2024

Nine plus years of Trump and his drooling minions polluting the political discourse has made what were once unforgiveable actions by politicians nothing but mainstream, everyday stupidity that America has now learned to ignore. 

The question I ask now is how did and why did we allow this kind of sleazy bullshit poison our politics? I was outraged when I saw the Right fall in line with the lies, accusations and hate that Trump pandered as the new "Alternative Facts" starting in 2015. And now we do not even blink an eye when he comes up with and then doubles and triples down on a lie that is racist and blatantly false. Targeting immigrants who are here legally and are also black is never okay, yet Trump and his butt sucking sidekick, JD Vance have no problem spewing their vile lies about them on a daily basis.

JD Vance's justification for creating lies to somehow bolster his campaign to enlighten America to his twisted vision of where we are only reinforces the lack of substance his and Trumps claims have. If they admit to making up lies to support their previous lies, what are we to think about their over all attitude about Americans. They are playing us for chumps and sadly, a large number of us are drinking their swill, and even helping to push their hate and discontent. Many, if not most know their plans are based not on helping the country but helping the few assholes who own them. They just do not care.

It is so easy to place all the blame on Trump. But the gutless enablers of the Right are really to blame. They allowed this slimy asshole to take over their party; this monster they now cannot control. They have allowed Trump to ruin the GOP by turning the party into an anti-democratic group bent on establishing an Authoritarian State in place of the Representative Democracy we currently enjoy.

If Trump wins this November, as Jackie Sue so frequently says, "We're Fucked!

Meanwhile, do your best to keep it 'tween the ditches ..........................

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I found a list of Anti - Trump Blues tunes. It was hard to pick a favorite. After checking them all, I decided on the Rick Estrin & the Night Cats tune, "Dump That Trump".  

Enjoy!

When I Was Young

I am not the awesome physical specimen I was fifty plus years ago. I know that. Yet occasionally, my mind tries to trick me into believing I have a chance of recapturing that chiseled and ripped body I so briefly packed when I thought I would live forever.

Yeah, the reality of the me of today flies in the face of the me I sometimes still conjure up in my mind. I will never again play lacrosse at the college level, win another swimming championship, or play on a state champion softball team. And picking up a bike again is questionable now.

That I am even still here and upright after so many years of taking my body for granted is more a testament to luck and possibly some solid DNA than any conscious effort on my part to maintain the temple I was gifted at birth.

Hindsight being 20/20 and all, I realized in my thirties that the bad habits I picked up in my teenage years would probably demand some kind of retribution once I hit my old fart years. So, instead of listening to my early warning system, I forgot the alert, resumed my merry way, and continued to occasionally ingest all the tasty ugliness that tempted me, day in and day out. 

Now here I am pissin and moanin about what once was and what will probably never be again. Yeah, I have begun to fight back, but at this point, the effort is token at best. It is a mind over matter game now and I was never very good at that. Hell, it took me over 50 years of smoking before I was able to find the will to successfully quit.

Funny, the opening sentence I came up with while walking with Maggie in the woods did not turn into where I thought that sentence would take this post.  What I had originally envisioned for this post is not even close to the result I am reading now.  A best laid plan became a go with the flow result of an unintended ending. 

And so concludes another communication from the void I charitably call my mind.

Keep it 'tween the ditches .....................................................

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Since I had no idea or thought concerning a musical choice for this post, I will continue to rely on my tried and true go with the flow style. ........... This could take awhile.

Damn. It only took a few tokes and a brief visit to YouTube to find the perfect song. Here is Eric Burdon and the Animals with their excellent tune, "When I was Young".

Dreams of Tractors and Scythes

So I had a dream the other night; uh, no, make that a series of three dreams, two of which were connected. 

The first one has me and my 30 year John Deere lawn tractor with snow blower attached attending an antique Tractor show down to Iron Tails Saloon across Route 109 from the Acton Fairgrounds. 

In the Real World I exist in when not asleep, Iron Tails will have at least two antique car and motorcycle show off parties a summer. So, in my dreams, it made perfect sense that they would host an antique lawn care show. That's what dreams are for after all.

I took a stroll around the many examples of antique lawn care equipment. There were several old Yard Man riding mowers, some old Craftsman units, some old Snapper riding mowers, and a variety of push mowers with engines and without. There was even one guy with a reconditioned Scythe. The thing was beautiful.

I finished my circuit and went back to proudly stand next to my own entry. It took me a minute to notice my pride and joy was missing something. In the short 10 minutes I spent circulating around the displayed antique lawn mowers, someone had stolen my just recently renovated snow blower attachment. I was astounded and immediately pissed.

Then I woke up. The anger combined with my need to pee caused me to seek out the bathroom ASAP. During the late night pee run, my anger at being ripped off quickly turned into considerations of what I was going to do to the assholes who stole from me as long as I  was able to pick up the dream where I left off. 

I am not often able to re-enter a dream if I have awakened for any reason. This time after some fitful moments trying to fall asleep again, I was able to not only fall asleep, but I managed to pick up the dream like I never left.

Very angry now and mumbling under my breath, I began another circuit around the various displayed lawn equipment. The last John Deere 445 Tractor I came upon looked different than when I had first seen it. I bent over and looked at the impeller axle. Instead of the nice clean solid factory attachment, it looked just like my jury rigged poorly welded set up that was a signature of my snow blower.

"Damn! How the Hell did they manage this", I thought.

I looked at the kid holding down the display. He wouldn't look me in the eye. I asked him if he had stolen my snow blower attachment. No response. Just then a grown man approached and asked me if I had a problem and why was I bothering his kid.

I repeated my question, "Did you steal my Snow Blower attachment?"

The guy wouldn't look me in the eye. But he nodded in the affirmative.

I didn't ask him why, I just asked if he would return it and he said he would. That is when I woke up again. Still pissed, I headed to the kitchen for some water. Went back to bed and slept just fine until 4:00 AM or so when again a dream woke me up. This one was about GW Bush and myself sharing coffee at the kitchen table. I asked him if he wanted any sugar for his coffee. He shook his head and said, "Just pass the cream."

I passed him the cream and then again I woke up. Tired of dreaming, I decided to stay awake and get on with my day.

Keep it 'tween the ditches ...........................................

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What tune could I possibly come up with that would dove tail nicely with a post about a tractor dream? 

Apparently other than the infinite number of songs about all the aspects, god and bad, about True Love, the next over filled category of songs would be songs about dreams, dreaming and how they are often broken.

I tasted too many before I finally picked two. First up is Tom Petty's, "Runnin Down a Dream".

And for a finishing tune is one of my favorite Cranberries tune, "Dreams".

She Spanked That Ass

Former RNC Chairman Michael Steele's assessment of last night's debate was spot on. Vice President Kamala Harris did indeed spank Trump hard. She took command of the debate with the initial handshake. Trump never found his footing, he never recovered.

I am under no delusions that Harris' debate success seals her win in November. There is and will always be a sea of stupid people who will back Trump no matter what. What Kamala showed the country was she is so much more up to the task of being President than Trump ever was. She showed that her concern was for this country while Trump continued his self aggrandizing rhetoric filled with lies, hate, and discontent. Kamala showed the drastic difference between someone who wants to help all Americans as to someone who only wants to divide America in order to help themselves. 

Well done Ms. Vice President, well done!

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I found the perfect song for the debate last night. It is a tune recorded by Fleetwood Mac in 1969 under the name Earl Vince & the Valiants. It is called "Someone's gonna get their head kicked in tonight". 

He, Who Shall Remain Un-named

I have recently been trying to refrain from posting anything specifically about politics. I can feel I am probably close to my breaking point. As evidence, I am now mentioning that I am trying to not write about the political circus unfolding outside the confines of my little acre of Sanity here in southern Maine. I will do my best with this post to at least, not mention by name, the one politician who has me and many, many millions of other Americans totally fed up with his lies, his criminality, his misogyny, his word salads, and are really tired of his ugly mug on TV every time we turn the damn things on. 

One can only watch so many "Leave it to Beaver", "Perry Mason", and "Have gun, Will Travel" re-runs. At some point I have to come up for air and there he is, still right in my face with his drooling knuckle dragging Cultists hanging on every idiotic word that spews from his pie hole.

 

Over the past 9 years when he first slithered and slimed his way into the politics of mainstream America, my first reaction was laughter. What a clown, I thought, what a buffoon. No way America would be be stupid enough to allow this guy anywhere near 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue in Washington, DC.

My laughter died when I realized that yes, there were enough gullible idiots in this country who had no problem with him and his sleazy con man chicanery that he was able to sneak in and squat behind the Resolute Desk in the Oval Office for the next 4 years. Okay, I thought, this was an aberration. Surely America would wise up for the next election and vote him out. 

I was right. We did vote the flim flaming asshole out. But  he didn't go quietly. Instead, he fired up his traitorous citizen army and they tried to overthrow the election and the country. Unapologetic, this self serving traitor doubled down and continued to punish America for the next 4 years with his stupidity, hate and discontent. We watched as he tried to steer our ship towards the rocks and tear us down in order to remake this country into the totalitarian paradise he has had wet dreams about for so many years. He failed but not before he caused real damage to our way of of life and our national soul. 

Hmm..........................

I sit here close to my boiling point again and wonder if his presence in my life is punishment for some misdeed or slight I may have had a part in far back in my checkered past. Did I insult Karma at some point? Or is it that America did?

All I can figure now is we deserve this man in our lives. We allowed him to poison our culture, bad mouth our cherished institutions, people and tenets that comprise the core of our national soul.

And now, 9 years after he first polluted the political landscape, he is still here spewing his inciteful gibberish and keeping the cups of of hate and discontent overflowing. We have a chance to put him down and I hope we do. But sadly the slime and shit stains he will leave behind will be with us for a long time. 

Good Job America. Way to go. Look what we have done to ourselves.

Later gators ..................................... 

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My choice for a tune comes from Tracy Chapman with her song "America". I am including the lyrics. I feel  they fit quite well with this post.

Labor Day Weekend

Labor Day. .......... Why was it created and when? From a U.S. government website :

"...... in 1882, Peter J. McGuire, general secretary of the Brotherhood of Carpenters and Joiners and a co-founder of the American Federation of Labor, suggested setting aside a day for a "general holiday for the laboring classes" to honor those "who from rude nature have delved and carved all the grandeur we behold."

".... to honor those who from rude nature have delved and carved all the grandeur we behold"

Hmm. Eloquent sentiment that describes what wage slaves do to meet the needs of the Rich to feed their ever growing silk lined pockets. 

No one can argue with those words really. Ownership in and of itself creates nothing tangible, physical, nor edible. All ownership does is create the focus of the energies of a group to one specific goal; producing the physical needs and wants of the larger group they are all part of. And for that, ownership grants themselves the largest piece of the reward pie. Fair or not, that's how it works.

Don't get me wrong, I have no axe to grind with ownership in and of itself. The Capitalistic model works, but not very well without at least a modicum of oversight. Left to it's own devices, without any restraints, Capitalism is a no win proposition in the end for everyone, the owners included. They are just the last ones standing. Eventually the system will be replaced by one that is more often than not, more draconian and brutal.

I understand I am using broad strokes to attempt to describe the economic model we use in this country. It is not so straight forward as my first remarks might indicate. There are many influences, good and bad that can create or enhance the over all impact on the culture the economic system exists in.

The broad strokes though, in my opinion, fit into too many scenarios that have already played out many times in the past since Capitalism began its rise from the ashes of  Feudalism during the Middle Ages. As a layman, former blue collar guy, and now, retired small business owner, I am thinking the failure of unrestrained free markets are as bad, if not worse than free markets operating under too many odious government restraints. The best results it seems, fall in the middle between the two, where Capitalism is the base system with a government that continues to rein in the worst excesses of the system. At the same time, The government does what it can to help maintain a healthy base economy.

A well managed forest will be more productive over the long term, than a forest cutover leaving nothing but stumps. 

This weekend we celebrate the hard work of all the worker bees who built and continue to sustain the greatest Economy in the last century or so. A day only celebrating our workers isn't enough really. But like good worker bees, we take what we can get and go back to work on Tuesday.

My father once told me there is nobility in any type of work. Carrying one's own weight through the labor of their backs or minds is where the real pride comes from, as opposed to the false narrative that defines us through how much we own. As I said earlier, ownership produces not much by itself. Without a workforce, there would be no riches to own.

Enjoy the rest of your weekend and please -

Keep it 'tween the ditches .............

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I thought I would search for a good labor tune. As I began my search, I remembered my favorite song of all time. "Willin", by Little Feat exemplifies my attitude towards work, pushing envelopes, and holding on. For me, "Willin" describes the the can do attitude of American Labor. It definitely described my attitude during the days I drove trucks over the road. 

When I played it again, I realized  "Willin" didn't dovetail nicely with the sentiment of the post. I will include it anyway, just because, well, it is my favorite song, ever. 

To be more in line with the idea, the struggles, and promises our labor force has been part of, here is the original version of "16 Tons" as written and recorded by Merle Travis in 1947. 

As promised, here is "Willin", a song that carried and sustained me through my years of pounding the superslabs, dodgin 4-wheelers and Smokies. It was the perfect finish to a precarious youth. I ended up having too much fun and finally got caught being stupid. 

It was at that point, my life really began.

A Weekend Post

Saturday

For me to write the best I can, I have to treat writing like exercise. More writing usually brings with it better writing fitness. The longer I go without writing, the more barco-lounger lazy I become. Then when the mood finally reappears, it is often like pulling teeth to get back into any groove at all. So this post is more for the exercise than any particular point I might have had in mind when I sat down. A point may happen, but it will be an accident. 

The one rule I have for this post is "No Politics". ............. Yeah right. That might be an impossible dream.

Speaking of some dreams being impossible. How about that Kamala? ........... I knew I shouldn't have set any rules, especially regarding politics. I decided I might as well break the stupid rule early and be done with it.

Now that that is out of the way, I can get on with the exercise.

Went to an excellent restaurant today with my wife, daughter and her man, Mr. Man. The Village Tavern in West Kennebunk is located in the old Cummings Market which has since moved to a new location 200 yards away into a modern day set up more suited to Suburbia, anywhere else other than West Kennebunk, Maine. But the Cummings folks are happy as pigs in shit. Besides the great operation they had as just a mom and pop store, now they have more than few gas pumps and they sit just a wheel turn off the Kennebunk exit on the Maine Turnpike. They are printing more money than ever now.

We were warned to get in line at the Village Tavern early before they opened at 4:00 PM. We were there by quarter to four and lined up maybe 20 diners back from the front of the line. Because we we were early enough, we scored the much desired seating on the long front porch outside. The day was beautiful and the breeze made it perfect.

I always have fun when I spend time with my wife, my kid and her man. They are hands down my favorite people in my life at the moment. Smart, funny, and a liberal sense of humor. We always have a good laugh at least once every time we hook up. I don't even mind when it is at my expense, which it often is.

The menu was not huge. It was not small. It had something for most everyone, even the kids. The prices were not cheap, but we expected that. I have no problem paying the freight at a good restaurant. And let's just say, the Village Tavern turned out to be better than the hype. Just their sides were awesome, never mind the Entrees. A gastronomical pleasure I have not had in a long time. All of us were more than impressed. The service was excellent and even though there was a line outside, we never felt pressure to get up and leave.

A great feed with great company. Life was as good as it gets at the Village Tavern today.

Sunday

Well, it's closing in on noon this beautiful Sunday. 75' F and only 55% humidity. In other words, I need to get outside and do shit. Too nice a day to spend indoors.

I have a hard cover for my pick up bed. It has been taking serious room in my already over stuffed garage for over 6 months now. It is time I stopped walking around it and install the damn thing. Besides, two days ago, I spent an hour scrubbing down the inside of the bed with installing the hard cover in mind.  In the meantime, please enjoy the two Yip-Yips of Sesame fame. My daughter found time to crochet them for me and my wife. Their story is they are from Mars and they hate computers and generally tech of any kind. They might be onto to something.

Wherever you are this gorgeous Sunday, please enjoy yourself .....................

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As nice as it is today means only one tune will do. Here is "Day dream" by the Lovin Spoonful from back before the dinosaurs in 1966. Enjoy. I advise a loud setting, but you may do as you like, I guess.

A Study in Contrasts

When Trump hit the political bricks in 2015 with his doom and gloom rhetoric about America and the sad shape he falsely claimed our country was in, I was puzzled at first. Then I was angry. Immediately I understood what his game plan was. Spreading hate was easier than spreading hope.

Sure, ever since 9 / 11, America seemed off it's game. We had been horribly attacked so we went to war and the following 15 years were filled with more war news, soldiers dying, soldiers coming home maimed and we once again were sucked into a situation there seemed no escape from. 

Yeah, we were not a happy country. But we were coming round until Trump opened his pie hole. Instead of using rhetoric that was positive and held out hope for our future, Trump seized on the negativity that permeated our collective soul and amplified it through never ending pessimism about America, Americans and where we were headed.

I knew he was wrong for our country then and the following 8 years proved me right. He has never stopped denigrating and hating America. His speeches now are even more hate filled than his doom and gloom sermonizing back in 2015. His "America and Americans Suck" schtick was new and fresh in 2015. Now it's like a sitcom that has been on the air way too long. The only idiots still hanging on his every word are the folks who love to hate and probably have wallowed in hate their whole lives. His covey of political opportunists are beginning to waffle in their full throated support of him. They are acting like nervous rats who think their boat may be sinking soon and are considering exit strategies now.

The image at the top is a screen shot I took of a "Morning Joe" segment while sipping coffee at the kitchen table yesterday morning. It beautifully represents the contrast between the two political parties at this point in time. The Democrats have climbed out of their funk and are back to business as the party of hope for the future, The Republicans are still wallowing like pigs in their hate filled sties created from dreams of a Past that never existed as they now remember that Past through their warped rose colored glasses.

No matter who you may vote for, please vote. Keep in mind that it is possibly a better idea that a vote be used with the Future in mind, not the Past. No matter what, we can never, nor should we want to, return to the Past.

Keep it 'tween the ditches .................................

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Time for music. What to pick, what to pick? My mind is blank and clueless this A.M. ....Hmm......... Guess I need some headphones on and a few minutes chasing songs on the World Wide Web.

In a token effort to at least check the latest hip tunes, I allowed YouTube's "Trending" tune of the day to take up space in my computer. Limiting my musical choices to the music of my past is good and all, but that denies there is no "good" music out there and just comes off as another crotchety, old fart, get off my lawn knee jerk attitude. Over the last 10-15 years, I have discovered wonderful new music across all the genre's out there. Sure, most of it is shit. The same held true back in the day when music was what my generation thinks now was the best ever. Separating the chaff to find the wheat is how it has always been.

So, here is Teddy Swims wearing a suit, a tie and tats from head to, I assume, toe. The man has some serious pipes. Enjoy "I lose Control", a very good newish pop tune.

The Enemy is Us

It bothers me we humans waste so much time, money and focus on the petty, the "never should have been a problem" problems, all the while ignoring or worse, denying the more than likely Humanity Ending calamities heading our way.

Maybe there is nothing we can do about the climatic tragedies, the over grazing, and out of control polluting. But then maybe we can. To not try harder to mitigate the upcoming damage is giving up. Status quo token efforts just won't do. We either go all in with our attempts to save what we have or we are done. It is no longer if, but when. The window to affect any change is closing at a faster rate than ever before. 

What do humans focus on while they exploit the planet to the point when the planet can no longer support our stupidity?  Their focus is on what can they buy that will help them stay erect, what can erase those lines etched in their faces and surely losing one's hair is more of a crisis than watching a desert grow where trees once stood. 

Based on our self-infatuated lifestyles, we know there are more important issues than saving the Race. Besides, we have plenty of time. And BTW, short term goals always upstage long term planning. Living for now is so much more important and easier than living with our children's futures in mind. Leave them lots of money if we can, the only plan. Besides the price we might pay for our efforts now will probably be painful. And we all know pain sucks. And besides, we have plenty of time.

The politics of saving ourselves should not be complicated. The problem is not complicated; the solutions are. Yet, the opposing sides of this issue would rather waste their energies pissing on each other's feet than pulling together to meet the biggest challenge we will ever face. 

One side wants to continue our reliance on old polluting technologies and keep their heads shoved up deep into their respective asses using denials and yo momma, fuck you, we don't care policies. Their opposites wring their hands and while supporting efforts to change, their worries about the inconveniences and disruptions to their pampered lives make them hesitant. And besides, there's plenty of time left.

Pointing fingers at everyone else without calling out my own planet saving efforts or lack thereof would be disingenuous. And while I often get on my high horse and look down my nose at the careless and ignorant people who have no clue or feel no need, no obligation to help us save ourselves, .... I have some cred, but I could and should do more, give more, and put a bigger dent in my personal carbon footprint. There is always room for improvement.

Is there plenty of time left? .......................... We'll see.

Keep it 'tween the ditches ........................................

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The song for the post I found well before I finished writing the post. I was listening to a YouTube Blues compilation. I think the song is a cover of Lightening Hopkins, "One Eyed Woman". It is performed by Gary BB Coleman who used to back up Hopkins near the end of his career. Pour yourself a shot or two of sour mash before you punch it up.

 

Hope I Die Before I Get Old

It would appear I blew it. That horse left my barn sometime ago. But I do remember embracing these lyrics after I saw The WHO perform "My Generation" on the "Smothers Brothers Show" in 1967. Their performance blew me away. I was 15 years old and had a seriously large chip on my 15 year old shoulder. The lyrics became my teen years anthem. I was going to damn well try to live up to the commitment. Old people sucked. Middle aged people (my parents) were worse. They didn't understand me or what Life was like for me at age 15.

I hoped many times I would not make it past 50, so I entered my "don't give a fuck" period and there came times when it appeared I was living up to the challenge.

Somehow I survived the years of living dangerously and became domesticated. Self preservation replaced Self destruction and the next thing I know, I have a wife, a kid, and I am no longer just living for myself. And though my crazy years were excellent overall, I am so grateful I settled down and became a positive cog in the world around me. My life as a husband, a father, and now a burgeoning old fart have been and are the best years of my life. 

As it turns out, hoping to die young was a fucking stupid idea.

Keep it 'tween the ditches .......................................

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Lock Up the Librarians

Texas never seems to have a problem punishing a freedom. Ever since Governor Abbott polluted Texas State Politics with his Christian Nationalist terrorism, a state I actually liked at one time, is now lower on my visit list than even Florida. I have lived in both states and will now never go back to either.

Granby County, Texas constable, Scott London spent two years and filled out an 824 page criminal report while investigating the evil doings at school libraries in Granbury, Texas. Apparently, the officer was ready to bring criminal charges against 3 librarians for having 6 books on the shelves that he deemed as obscene. He also wanted the names of the students who checked them out.

He did say the librarians did not have to speak with him without lawyers, as the investigation was criminal and not administrative. They refused. The investigator filed his report with the local District Attorney. The DA refused to file charges, using a "lack of evidence" excuse. 

Now this may seem like good news. They dodged a bullet and were not taken into custody, handcuffed and processed like some petty criminal. Actually, this kind of "Big Brother" bullshit should scare the bejesus out of all of us. There are so many things wrong here, legally, politically, and most of all ethically. But this is the kind of activity a single person with minimal authority can feel emboldened enough to take part in once they feel they have the backing of the government.

Limiting what we can read is a cornerstone of a totalitarian society. It doesn't matter if that totalitarianism is waving a flag or carrying a cross. There is absolutely no justification for this kind of heavy handed bullshit.

I leave this here with a link to the NBC video. You can judge for yourselves.

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To accompany this post, I chose Incubus', "Talk Shows on Mute". The big reason is besides the political message, is I just like the tune and have for years.

Regarding Organized Religion and LSD

Yesterday morning while I was having a late breakfast, a large Jehovah Witness accompanied by a much smaller Jehovah Witness knocked on my front door. I opened the door. I forget the large Jehovah's name, but the cute little Jehovah in the summer dress was named Maddie. Maggie our dog was right there, as she always is, ready to greet strangers, thieves and other lowlifes with her tail wagging and a smile on her mug. 

Maddie seemed intimidated at first, but she relaxed as I listened to, I am guessing here, her father's latest twist on God. Large Jehovah and I exchanged niceties. He asked me, and I paraphrase:

"What do you think of all the suffering around the World?"

A serious question for sure. Because I was feeling friendly, I searched for an answer that would not come across as mean or dismissive.

"To suffer seems an integral part of the Human Condition."

I wanted to say more, but he just looked at me and handed me the pamphlet. It was not the full blown issue of "The Watchtower" they usually distribute.

"We'd love to see you in church."

We shook hands and he and his mini cohort left.

Anyone who has known me for any time at all knows I hate organized religion, especially organized religions who would force their way into my life through Theocratic rule, like the Taliban, Isis, but most of all, the homegrown Christian Nationalists who are intent on totally fucking up what America has worked so hard to build.

Knowing this, it would not be much of a leap of logic to assume I hate Jehovah Witnesses. I don't hate the Witnesses. Yeah, they knock on my door at least once a summer, sometimes more. They hand me copies of "Watchtower", bend my ear for a few moments and then leave me to return to happily wallow in my heathen squalor.

Jehovah Witnesses are not political. As a matter of church doctrine, politics is not on their agenda. They only recognize "God's Kingdom" and cannot be bothered by the petty, selfish activities that swirl around them as they devote their lives to their god. They rely on face to face persuasion to bring more of us infidels into their flock. Compare that to what the Christian Nationalists will jam down our throats should they have the power. No contest, the Witnesses are hands down, how an organized religion should carry itself. Leave the politics home.

I can co-exist with any religion that does not interfere in my own vison of pursuing happiness.

Keep it 'tween the ditches .....................................

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I have had trouble finding tunes I like about or referencing religion in some way. I decided today I would find something else, maybe a reminder of times past when I was in my LSD phase. I was sure I saw God that night.

I was first introduced to Jimi Hendrix's take on "All along the Watchtower", during Easter Break, 1968. I was in military school in southern Maryland and my family had moved to Maine by then. I spent Easter Break with Snake and his grandparents in Bethesda, Maryland, my old neighborhood. 

Snake and I were new to LSD. We had only a few trips under our belts at the time. We scored a bunch of Orange Barrels. The guy we bought the hits from warned us to be careful. He advised we split one hit and see how it goes.

Being overconfident noobs, we mishandled our dosages; badly mishandled our dosages. We had been swallowing LSD for a few weeks by then and decided we knew what we could handle. We did not respect the potency of the Acid we had bought. We each ate one barrel, waited maybe 20 minutes and convinced ourselves we weren't "getting off" (feeling it), so we each ate another Orange Barrel.

By this time we had retired to Snake's basement, which was his room. He put on "Electric Ladyland". That was the last thing I really remember well until 12 or 13 hours later when we came out of it. "Electric Ladyland" was still playing. I was sure that night, Hendrix had been sent by God. And I was positive LSD was God's gift to the World.

As it turned out, it wasn't God. It was too many mics of LSD.

So here is Jimi's version of Bob Dylan's "All Along the Watchtower". To this day I am sure it is the greatest version that will ever be. I know, I listened to it all night long that night in the summer of 1968.

My Little Patch of Sanity

I don't get around as well as I used to. Ask most 72 year old's and I am fairly certain they would agree. If not, then good for them. I should be so lucky. 

I know that the aches and pains I deal with today could be alleviated some if I exercised more. Well, there's the rub. And it's a rub I have dealt with over the years every Spring getting in good enough shape for a summer of mountain biking. Improving fitness always brings discomfort(pain) and as each year passes, the rebirth process after a winter of slothful endeavors brings more discomfort(pain). The pains seem to invade new body parts with each passing year.

I have to embrace the pain; grin and bear it if I hope to control the worst of the pain in my future. Suffering a little now means less suffering later. Yeah, after so many Springs used up changing from a winter of listless and lethargic navel contemplation to a lifestyle of active physical efforts, I would hope I would be used to the pain involved in that transition by now. But every Spring the intensity of the initial discomfort shocks me for a week or so.

In recent years I guess I decided to not deal with the pain of shaping up. It is so much easier to continue the barco-lounger way of life and slowly waste away into the great beyond. Falling into the trap of inactivity is definitely the path of least resistance and with each new year under my belt, that path gets easier. I have told myself this many times this year so far:

"No fuckin around Mike. This Summer we rock. This Summer we get off the couch, turn off the computer, the TV and get busy".

For the last 6 or 7 years, after a couple of really agonizing weeks, I have given up and turned back into that torpid lizard sitting on a rock in the hot Sun. To be fair, I have had some health challenges that made it easier to sit than not. Tick borne illnesses and Covid did kick my butt and bouncing back has been hard. Regardless, I have begun to be more active. How long this lasts will depend on if the chronic aches and pains I have developed do not get any worse.

I have to thank the influx of mountain bike videos on my Facebook page for my recent efforts to be more active. I used to love riding my bike in the woods. Nothing made me happier. Now, I want to do it again. But I have to be in better shape to even attempt it. So I started walking almost every day with Maggie over in Mary's Woods across the road from my dooryard. 

Those woods have been a special place for me since I was in high school. I fixed up a bench from cut up deadfall and I bet I have consumed 100 joints sitting there while I watched and listened to the woods get on with their day. So, if for some reason I again fall off the fitness wagon, If nothing else, I am calmer these past couple of weeks. Sitting on some old logs in the woods can do that for me.

Keep it 'tween the ditches .....................................

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Since I am in the early optimism about the future for myself and again feeling better about our country's direction with the stand out duo, Harris and Walz, looking to kick some GOP butt in November, I figure a song from Tracy Chapman might be appropriate. Here is "New Beginning", the title track of her 1995 album, "New Beginning".

A Morning Conversation Over Coffee.

I brought up the subject of my mother over coffee this morning. I won't call it a mistake because I did not anticipate where the conversation would end up. I should have expected my wife's response, but when it came, I was caught off guard by her blunt answer. I asked or rather stated as a joke:

"I'm not like my mother am I?"

BA stopped stuffing her lunch bag and looked at me as if weighing how harsh of a reply she should level at me. Just the look she gave indicated I was about to have the Bad Ass Bobbi answer and not the Leave it to Beaver "Yes dear" I might have hoped for. Of course I have never gotten a "Yes Dear" from my bride of 43 years. Not once. That has always been one of the things that attracted me to her in the first place.  She puts up with my stupidity, my delusions of grandeur, but will not hesitate to call me on my Bull Shit when she feels I need a swift kick in the ass. She has never been a subservient woman. I like that.

So, she's looking at me deciding whether to pull punches or let a flurry of them fly. I can see it in her eyes.

"You are just like your mother."

She stopped there and went back to stuffing her lunch bag.

I was not crushed. I was surprised I guess that she said it with such firmness and with a touch of "isn't it obvious" in her tone.

Okay, maybe I should have filled some history gaps before I let this post get to this point. So, I'll do it now.

My wife's and my mother's relationship was strained from the first time they met. My mom was a judgmental woman who was raised as an elite daughter in the social world of San Francisco in the early to mid 1900s. Her father was a judge who for some time, was "the Man" in the local Republican party. In other words, Mom could be a snobbish and often was.

BA, my future wife, was immediately put off by the pretentions my mom exhibited. I never expected them to be pals, but I was surprised at the tension that continued from that day forward. Part of me enjoyed seeing my mom dealing with a woman who wouldn't put up with her bullshit. Another part of me wished they would get along. And then the evil part of me ..... , well, let's just say I did little to meet either's expectations in the way of defense. I figured each was up to the task of their battle and I should stay out of it as much as possible. Overall, one of the smartest decisions of my life.

Back to our conversation ..........

After Bobbi Ann crushed my soul by inferring I was just like my mother,  I stupidly did not leave it alone and asked or is it I stated:

"Well okay, at least I'm not as bad as she was, right?"

"No, You aren't."

She continued packing her lunch. I knew this was not the morning conversation she wanted. She was trying to focus on her day at her office. I couldn't let it go, so I continued to press:

"I'm not as much like her as Joe (my oldest brother, now deceased) was, right?"

BA's body language told me this might be the end of her patience, but she answered:

"No, those two were peas in a pod. Joe could do no wrong. He was her little prince."

Satisfied now that I was not as much like Mom as Joe was, I decided to quit pushing it. Or I thought I did. Instead, as an after thought, I opened my pie hole again and asked: 

"What about Doug?"

Doug was the middle son who had to grow up in Joe's shadow. He ended up not being like either Joe or I. For many years he was the even tempered Dougie who always tried to calm the often contentious family moments from getting out of hand.

BA perked up:

"Yeah what happened to Doug? He turned into a nice guy without the ego you and Joe picked up."

I couldn't leave well enough alone, could I? That pesky ego always gets me in trouble.

Keep it 'tween the ditches .................................

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I typed in "Blues tunes about Mom". Google took me immediately to this fine song, "Blues for Mama" by Nina Simone. Nina has one of the finest voices of my lifetime. She can belt out the Blues fer shur Dude.

Proud to Be a Libtard

I discovered a new singer the other day. While watching YouTube videos, a jazzie number called, "Rich People" caught my attention. Right out of the gate, Carsie's pull no punches lyrics identified her as a kindred spirit. I immediately started to listen to her other offerings on YouTube. She uses politics as major inspirations for her tunes.

Her name is Carsie Blanton. She's from Luray, Virginia and she rocks.

I have gone through a few videos of hers and I would say half of them have strong political messages in them. My favorites so Far are "Ugly Nasty Commie Bitch" and "Rich People".

I was born into a family where both of my parents' ancestors were Republican going back to the party's beginnings. I was weaned on Republican policy and viewpoints. I was also weaned on the expectation that I should always make up my own mind, but be ready to defend myself if challenged. No quarter was given at the often heated political discussions that went down at the dinner table. I was often chewed up and spit out for offering an opinion. But by the time I hit twelve years of age, I could hold my own most days.

Real life events in my early years though nibbled away at that perfect happy existence we supposedly lived in. Alcohol, health issues, then witnessing humans being cruel to other humans in real time when we lived in Tallahassee, Florida set up my future as a Liberal. Watching my parents become disillusioned, not just with their political party, but with the country as a whole by the end of the 1960s pretty much cast my new direction in stone.

They were not surprised with my switch, nor was I vilified when I switched over to the Dark Side and registered as a Democrat when Ronald Reagan ran for President. My mom hated Reagan for what he did as governor to "her California".

I had been leaning Left for quite some time, but I often crossed over to the other Dark Side and voted for a Republican. I did that for years, actually voting for the person, not the party. That all changed in 2008 when Susan Collins reneged on her promise to only serve two terms as a Senator from Maine. Her whole campaign in 1996 was based on term limits. She promised at event after event, she would leave the US Senate after two terms. I don't believe in term limits, but she made a promise and then reneged and ran for a third term in 2008. She is still stinking up the Senate as I write this.

The Tea Party of the Right was in full swing in 2008. The writing was on the wall. I was sure of it. The party I grew up in was never going too be that party again. Defeating them became my one political goal. No matter who is running, never ever would I or will I vote for a Republican again. Since 2008, I have  done just that. 

The GOP has Cancer. The Cancer has metastasized and invaded every pore of the Republican Party. The few sensible Republicans that existed in 2008 have either succumbed to that Cancer or been ostracized and retired or been primaried out. Contrary to their lying rhetoric, the GOP no longer even pretends to represent the citizens of the United Sates. The GOP is now owned completely by rich and powerful private sector assholes. It's all about the Benjamins.

So here I sit at age 72. I have no regrets worth mentioning really. I certainly do not regret becoming a Libtard. I am proud of my conversion to progressive notions and ideas. I don't agree with all of them, but I know Progressives are not as self serving as the Right Wing is. The Left is more likely to put forward policies that help the nation over all and not just the petty selfish interests of mostly rich White people.

Later gators ....................................

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Enough on politics already. Time for some music. With politics included of course.. Here is my new favorite artist, Carsie Blanton with her tune, "Rich People".

An Extrication

This meme passed by this morning on the "Opposing Views" group page on Facebook. 

I wasn't sure about this, so I ran it by my wife. We are now on our way to the ER to have her left foot extricated from my ass.

She apologized. Said the thought made her go off the deep end, So I asked if it was okay after all? She told me to pull over; she needed to add some emphasis to her earlier expression of displeasure.

Oh Shit. She's taking off her right shoe.

Hopefully I will recover soon. In the meantime ............

Keep it 'tween the Ditches .......................................

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I also discovered a new (to me) musician who seems to draw much of her inspiration from the Political world. A woman after my own heart, Here is Carsie Blanton with her tune, "Ugly Nasty Commie Bitch". Enjoy.