Howl at the Moon Tonight

I guess we humans can't keep from nicknaming everything around us. People, animals, things, the list is endless. Think of something and there will be a catchy nickname to go along with the accepted boring name. The monthly Full Moon's are no exception.

Seems January's full moon which peaks tonight is known as the "Wolf Moon". I was sure the name had something to do with werewolves and the like, but the true story is less compelling and really no one knows exactly how or when January's full moon was first saddled with the nickname, "Wolf Moon". It was many moons ago though.

One reasonable explanation came from a BBC article I just read.

Wolves do not hibernate over the winter. They stay active and nighttime is a favorite time to chase down food I guess. And they apparently are happy to have a moon to howl at. I know when I was young, numb and shitfaced, stoned or high on LSD, I tended to howl at the moon also. 

The thing about the Wolf Moon though is that another annual celestial event coincides with it. Mars can be found right next to the Moon tonight. Same thing last night. It was awesome. But then to sweeten the deal, Mars is also approaching "opposition". Opposition is when a celestial body finds itself directly in line with the Sun. The last one for Mars was in December, 2022. Opposition means the Sun will be casting the brightest of its light on that celestial body and viewing it will be at its best. If you have a decent telescope, tonight's the night to use it if you want to check out Mars.

If tonight is as clear as it was last night, I'm digging out a yard chair, bundling up and sparking up a doob. I will be found staring at the sky for a few hours. Last night I was only outside maybe 5 minutes. But then a t-shirt and flip flops was not the right attire for sub 20's F weather.

There might be better reasons to go out in the cold cold night, but tonight is certainly right up near the top of the list.

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

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Again, another post I had no problem finding a tune to go with it. Before I even started this post, I thought of only one song, "Werewolves of London", by Warren Zevon. The word I heard was, tonight is the night the Werewolves of London rock their hardest. Better stay away from them Jim, they'll rip your lungs out.

Summer Has Finally Arrived

I saw my first dragonfly of the summer yesterday. For me, that is the first sign of real summer here in Maine. Once the big black ones (Canada Darner?) start cruising the yard, there is a noticeable drop in the mosquito population during the hours of dusk when both of them like it best. 

Dragonflies and their shadows, the Damselflies are found all over the planet. Worldwide, there are approximately 5500 to 6000 species of Dragonflies and Damselflies. The United States has a healthy percentage at around 450 species, with Maine coming in at or damn close to being the top location with 36% of those 450. New species are discovered on a regular basis up here, some of which are only found in or around a specific lake, pond or marsh.

Other than being generally smaller now, Dragonflies and Damselflies are relatively unchanged over the millions of years they have been around. They both are members of the Odonata Order that dates back 325 million years at least. That puts them here many millions of years before dinosaurs began stomping around. They can fly forward, backwards, and hover. Efficient hunters, they can turn on a dime to snatch the flying food around them.

Very cool insects.

While Dragonflies and Damselflies are both of the Odonata Order, there are real differences between them. Damselflies as a rule tend to be smaller than Dragonflies. The easiest way to tell the difference when seeing them is to catch them not flying and look at their wings. Damselflies fold their wings to their bodies when still, Dragonflies don't.

So there you have it; another crude attempt on my part to convey to the world that I still pay attention to the comings and goings of the creatures that surround my little patch of Heaven here in the pucker brush of southern Maine.

Ya'll have a wonderful day now...... Ya hear?

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Never heard of this young lady. Her voice and simple tune caught my attention. Please enjoy "Dragonfly" by Kasey Chambers.

It is Safer to be Dumb as a Rock than Smarter than One

Another "Big Think" digital article on Facebook caught my eye yesterday morning. I am slowly becoming a fan, an addict, and gasp; even a follower of the "Big Think" world.

I blame all the bad news out there bombarding me from every direction 24/7 for my new found interest in shit I haven't considered in such quantities since back in military school. Rather than take the bait of a media determined to make me feel bad, feel fear, or feel angry, I am looking for internet pleasures elsewhere that don't prefix with the warning, "X-rated".

Yesterday's "Big Think" article was about really intelligent people suffering a higher incidence of mental and emotional problems in a world overrun by average intellects. It points up the rocky road many of the genius level minds have navigating and dealing with the madness of mediocrity that rules our planet. 

With high intelligence comes great risk. Though the article does not say it, I conveniently inferred, assumed, jumped to the conclusion that:

"It is Safer to be Dumb as a Rock than Smarter than One" 

What I like about "Big Think" articles are their "everyman" treatments of ideas and concepts much more complicated than many of us can understand.  The articles hit the high notes of topics a schlub like me might be able to get my mind around. And though I may not understand all of them completely, they do offer me a shot at looking inside of someone else's box for a moment or two. The articles often humble me and point out that for all I think I know, there is so much out there to know, I will run out of time to learn even a small infinitesimal amount of it. 

Instead of making me feel small and insignificant, all the knowledge that I cannot know makes me all warm and fuzzy. No matter what I think, where I go, or what door I might open, there will always be something new for me to find, experience, or deal with as long as I am looking for it. The New does not always slap us in the face. We often have to seek it out.

So being one of the "average intelligent", I appreciate what "Big Think" is doing. They are on a quest to renew interest in subjects many of us hated in school. They are trying to bring ideas and notions back into our lives many of us have not considered since childhood. For me, "Big Think" is bringing some wonder back into my life.  Check them out. Good stuff.

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

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Music today is provided by IZ, a Hawaiian artist who died before his time. It's a medley of "Somewhere over the Rainbow" and "Wonderful World" . No matter how often I hear this tune, the hairs on my neck rush to stand at attention. 

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** The image at the top, "The Scream" is a rare black and white print found at the British Museum. The article is three years old but interesting nonetheless.

Someone Else's Blues

It has been a week since I posted anything online. Not on my blog, Not on Facebook. Not on Twitter. I did not consciously take time off. It just happened.

I think my missing in action status was kicked off by a commercial NBC runs regularly hawking their kid's online news program, "Nightly News with Lester Holt, Kid's Edition". To add some beef to the ad, they offer several three or four second moments of children asking questions about current events. I cannot remember from one viewing to another any of the kid's questions or comments with the exception of one ten year old who looks straight at the camera and asks:

"Can you tell me what is going on?"

Every time I see this commercial now, I snarl at the screen, 

"Never mind the kids, please tell me what the fuck is going on first."

This is how confused, disappointed and really pissed off I am now. I feel myself wanting to just hide under a rock, spark up a Doob, and let the waning years left to me pass by as painlessly as possible. ......... Hmm.

So I crawled into a convenient hole and sulked these past days. The wound of a thousand cuts spread over forty years are so extensive, licking them is no longer an option. But then neither is caving and becoming the type of drooling minion the Right loves; one who does not complain or ask questions. Fear filled populations are easier to control. So the Right pours on the hate, pours on the lies, they never give up. They are relentless.

I often think the Right Wingers' brow beating ways and their use of outrageous made up Bull Shit has finally worn down my last nub. But as I said, that is the result they want. If they can't convert, turning me into another apathetic asshole works just as well, ........ maybe better. 

Contrary to the Right's claim only they are the moral, high ideal love of humanity group, they actually have no real interest in ideology or policy that works for our mutual benefit. They offer up vague slippery tongued promises of good times in the future if we will only follow them and submit to their obvious superior plans. But their plans in recent years have not lived up to their promises. All they want to do is to dial back the clock and rescind rights so many fought for these last 60-70 years. That is not a path forward. That is painful atrophy. Every major change they have forced down our throats always seem to only help the missions of a select few or fill the pockets of their leadership and good buddies in board rooms around the world. 

I know that this country I now have trouble identifying with went through these changes incrementally one fuck up at a time. While both the Right and the Left had a part in the madness, the Right was more enthusiastic and eager to put the screws to the majority of us who considered people by their content, not their looks, their sexual identity, or what religion they bent their knees to. 

Sadly it appears they may have their way, and are now poised for a successful takeover of the USA for some years to come. At best, I see us in the near future living in a Corporate Autocracy. At worse, we end up a Fascist state or even worse, a Theocracy. Those kind of evils have been hiding in the shadows forever. This may be their time in the Sun,

As Jackie, my good internet friend from Texas has said for years:

"We are so fucked."

The time needed to change the horizon we are heading for grows short. 

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

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I know, I know ..... Music to whine by, complain by, face the evil heading our by. This may take some time.

REM's tune, "It's the end of the World"  covers things nicely I guess. 

But as a bonus tune I came across while looking for more specific to the point of the post music is "Someone Else's Blues" by one of my all time favorite musicians, David Bromberg, because I guess I have been waking up lately with "Someone Else's Blues".

Mansions in Heaven

The Pew Warmer

For someone who scoffs at the notion there is actually a God who gives a shit about us and our petty lives, I sure think about religious stuff more often than one would think.  My feet are firmly planted on the maybe there is a God and maybe there is not fence. Why?  Well, this God has not introduced themself to me in person and basing my loyalty on faith is a crap shoot at best.


The Bible is the Lord's word written down by humans setting up a framework that neatly explains, excuses, and condemns every last one of us to the role of slack jawed minion to one of two masters.  I won't belabor the point, but I think organized religion is bullshit.  Done more damage over the ages than it has helped.

But that does not mean there is no Creator.

Regardless, the notion of Rapture has popped up it's silly head recently.  I checked my favorite Rapture website for the latest and well..................

Apparently, moving the US embassy to Jerusalem is another sign the End is just around the corner.

Add to that now we can expect China to invade the Middle East in our near futures with a 200 million man army, while Israel will ally itself with Russia to , well, I guess I am not really sure, but you can bet they are gonna whip someone's ass.

 Oh yeah, and Bill Gates is responsible for the latest Ebola outbreak in Africa.  This site has its fingers on the pulse of ........ hmm, not sure whose pulse or what pulse, or is it they just like to make shit up.  Anyway, the site is a hoot.

I spent some time on "Rapture Ready"  .  After all, it might behoove me to prepare myself some.  I won't need to bring clean underwear I guess.  All that will be provided when I step up to the allotment counter just inside Heaven's Gate.  That is where all Christians find out what neighborhood they will be living in.  The site's page, "Mansions in Heaven" set forth the type of home one can expect based on their level of piety and subservience to the Creator.

The Quitter's Mansion

Unfortunately I do not rate even the "Quitter's Mansion".  Apparently this is the heavenly home of those who  ......  was a believer in name only. Angels began to build him a mansion, but they stopped work when it was clear the client had no intention of fulfilling his commitment.

Sadly, based on the choices available to me and the time I have left to maybe get in God's good graces,  it looks like it will be a cardboard box under an overpass for me.  And that is if I am lucky.  Most likely scenario has me deported south of Heaven's border where Satan knows how to deal with heathens like me.

And I do believe in Satan.  I have not met him yet, but I have seen him on TV.  He has orange hair and is the greatest president in like forever.

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

Babies and Crucifixes

When I first got into this blogging gig, I vowed to find one new blog a week that interested me enough to link it at least in the "favorites" file marked "Blogs".  Between the self generated stress of keeping my own blog going and fulfilling my sense of duty to the bloggers who visited my blog by visiting theirs, this promise fell by the wayside rather quickly.  My excuse - there is only so much time in this world to fart around and I have to pull the plug at some point to at least eat some food and catch some shut eye..

I stepped outside my blogging comfort zone and went on reconnaissance missions to find new blogs to connect with.  It had been at least a year or so since I journeyed out beyond my blogging perimeter. 

I tried the "next blog" button at the top of the page.  I am guessing the random button installed by the wizards inside the blogging network is often stuck on "let's drive this guy crazy with blogs he has no interest in".   My first 50 or so punches brought Jesus into my life.  In the space of less than 30 minutes I basically read the Bible in five word chunks at the top of every new blog I brought to life.  Someone out there was determined to bring me back into the fold.  My resistance almost worn out, I found the strength to resist the path to righteousness by finding some Black Sabbath videos and playing them over and over again.  Thank you Ozzie, you are indeed my savior.

A day or two later, I tried the button again and the random button inside the gulliwots of the blogger network had moved to mommie blogs.  Another 50 punches and I found myself now a guilt ridden wreck crying out for my dear dead mother and jones-ing for some apple pie.  Images of innocent toddlers in various stages of cuteness all meshed together creating horrific scenes in my mind of dirty diapers piled to the ceiling, baby puke dripping off my shoulders, and trying to cram 5 child carriers into a four seat car.

I was going to surrender, cry for mercy and promise to never again step outside my blogging comfort zone.  For a few days it worked.  But once I get an itch, I can become a tenacious Homer bound and determined to weather anything to find what I want. ...................... Doh!

I decided to try being a smart Homer.  I would fool those evil bastards whose perverted pleasures are satiated saturating my brain with cute faces coated with Gerber paste while their stubby little hands stab crucifixes in my general direction.

While I pondered my next foray out into the wilderness, I decided my Profile Page needed updating.  After opening it and tweaking it here, there, and in between, I noticed that all the words I filled in next to the various categories were highlighted blue like they were links or something.

Hmm ................................. Yeah, I remember thinking just that, "hmm".

In the "Location" section, I punched the word, "Maine".  Immediately I was taken to a link page in Blogger that gave me access to all 10,000 or so blogs that claim Maine as their location.

Again, I remember softly uttering, "Hmm",  and maybe even added, "That's interesting".  I cannot confirm the last part as all I am sure of as a Homer who puts his few brain cells into motion by uttering, "Hmm", that I indeed most likely, 99% sure of it, I at least uttered, muttered, said "Hmm".

I had finally beat the bastards, those rascally little Google Wabbits who tried to mess with my head.  Hung by their own cleverness and code.  Finally, I had an endless hunting ground filled with blogs I might be interested in.

I punched the words "riding my bicycle" I had typed in the section marked, "Interests".  And thousands of bicycle related blogs popped up.  In the section, "Favorite Books", I hit "Asimov", and immediately I was taken to all the blogs who favored Asimov as an author.  Surely there were some like minded folks to be found there.

So, take it from a Homer who, unaided and without a guide, was able to weed out the unwanted and focus on possibly the wanted.  Sometimes stupid desperation does work out.

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

100 Words - Not Sure Why

Not sure why I suddenly have this intense urge to write.  Not sure why I am still damn busy at the bike shop.  Guess there are a lot of why’s in and around my life.  Most I don't wonder about.  Some cause me to pause to attempt figuring the why like if I could figure out that why, I would finally have a secure grip on this insane trip I am on.  Since I cannot for the life of me, figure out the many whys, I sit clueless and empty of any explanation of what, where and most important, why.
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Route 109

Rte 109 is Acton's main artery to the World outside.  Roughly a north, south highway, it passes through Acton on it's it's way from the ocean to the eastern edges of southern New Hampshire.  The road outside my dooryard, used to be Rte 109.  When they re-routed it  about a 1/2 mile to my south sometime in the late 1960s, my road then became "Old 109".  It turned into Sam Page Road I guess about 10 -15 years ago when some bureaucrat up Augusta way decided that in order to make 911 work even worse than it did then, everyone had to have an address and every road had to have a name.  "Old 109" would not do.  A founding father from back in the day of oxen and log cabins was chosen to grace the the new green metal signs that sprung up one night or later the next day when I wasn't looking.  We were assigned an actual street number and given no choice as to whether we wanted to hang it out there for all to see. Welcome to the 21st century.

I don't know what my road was called before it was Rte109 and then Old 109.  I do know that it has been a main drag in this part of southern Maine for a couple of hundred years anyway.  The image above was taken from my lower driveway sometime around 1920.  The view, an overlook of the bustling downtown 500 yards west of me.  The church on the hill is still there.  The white house is too.  What is not still here is the house the dirt driveway on the right lead to.  It burned in the early 1950s and the barn was disassembled and moved down South Berwick way where it sits tall and proud today.

109 is a fine road.  By Maine standards, it is almost a super highway.  Has a shoulder and lines painted on it.  The state fixes it up more often than some other roads in the area.

I had a point before I began this post about a country road in southern Maine.  And damned if I didn't let myself forget what that point was.   Maybe it was how roads endure, even if we move them, destroy them, or forget them.  They will always lead us where we want, need, hate .....to go.

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

Ending Up With Extra Parts

I forgot we were in for an extra day this year.  I have one more day to catch up on all that I have fallen behind on.  I have one extra day to hold off paying any bills due in the first week of March.  24 bonus hours to either waste or use wisely...............Riiiiight.

I will admit that at an early age I thought the concept of time was silly.  At least the way we humans seem to be tied to it so closely.  It took many years before I grudgingly caved to the World's insistence on schedules, lead times, down time, and having no time.

Greed

A post on Major Conflict got me fired up.  Rather it was a comment on the post that did -  

"What's wrong with being greedy?"

The comment needs no context to tie it into the post.  It is a stand alone question from a commenter I would expect no less from.  We have traded comments more than a few times on Major Conflict .

Immediately I ripped off a 500 word reply blasting greed and the nasty side effects that usually accompany it.  Feeling better, I sat back and re-read what I had written.  I immediately deleted it.  So I responded instead -

"Before I can answer that I need to know what is right about being greedy."

A Newt Education

With the Blogosphere lighting up all over with posts about Gingrich's recent victory in South Carolina's Republican Primary, I thought I would join the fray and add my two cents worth.

But then I thought I wouldn't.  He won.  Who cares?  Let's move on.

Instead, I decided to attempt to distance one of my favorite critters from the bad influence of a poor excuse of a Presidential candidate. But first I needed to educate myself on Gringrich's namesake to make sure one was of a higher moral fiber than the other.  I had no need to educate myself on Newt, the politician.  His mug and comedic behavior has been around for years.  But the real Newt, well, I learned there was more to know than a quick run through at Wikipedia.

AARGH!!!!!!!

On a day as dreary as today and given its somewhat noteworthy position near the edge of the year,  I should have been reflecting on past mistakes, future endeavors, or at the least contemplating my naval.  Instead, I chose to attempt one more time to do two things that have been consistent in their refusal to bend to my will.

It all started with Twitter.  I have had a Twitter account I guess for a couple of years now.  In that time I have tweeted twice, have 4 followers, and I am supposedly following two others.  Obviously I have not gotten into the Tweeting thing.  Either that, or my existence on this planet is much sadder than even I thought it was.    So this morning I decided I would take one more hesitant step into the 21st century and figure out how Twitter works.

Sugar Plum Fairies, Flags & the Last Commie

The Sugar Plum Fairy of St. Charles, Missouri has been fired.  It's comical on one hand and a sad statement on the other about how tight folks' butts are getting in some parts of this nation.  Add in the recent refusal of a bakery to bake a wedding cake for a lesbian couple tying the knot and I  wonder if we are not slipping back into the "Good Ole Days" like so many folks seem to want.  The good ole days that also had hidden in the shadows, the bad ole days.  Apparently from the two stories, some want them included as well.

Then I read that viewing the US flag can cause one to vote Republican.  I have been wondering what the cause was.  I knew it had to be something simple and direct. So I stared at one for an hour.  Seems a change has come over me............................

I punched up a profile of Canada put together by the BBC.  Maybe it was my computer, but all I got was a blank page.  I don't think it was my computer.  BBC obviously has nothing to say about Canada.  Even after reinstalling the Queen as the head of their country, Canada still can't get any respect from the Brits.  It's understandable they get no respect from the US.  They're our next door neighbors.  At least they ain't rowdy and out of control like our neighbors to south are.  But man are they boring.  Booooooooring.  No riots.  No drug killings.  Just a bunch of ice drivin, tree choppin oil drillin hockey watchin fools who like better beer than we do.

I did not punch up the BBC profile of the US.  Now that I have stared the flag down and become a good American and all, I knew anything some wannabe Euro trash media outfit might come up with would be a pack of lies and innuendos.  After all, their own history books tell the story of the revolution all wrong.  We kicked their wanker butts and some clown with a Sir in front of his name tries to tell me King George lll had other fish to fry and finally just got tired of us "Colonists".  Yeah right.  Then he goes on to compare England's handling of "the Colonies" to our commie ass kickin crusade in Viet Nam.   Shoot.  Where does he come up with this crap?  We kicked butt in 1776 and again in 1966.  As long as more of them die than us, then we win.  Right?

I noticed the last Munchkin died.  Though I finally grew up to be a burly bad ass American male who had to fight the chicks off with a stick, when I was wee small the Munchkins gave me nightmares.  Maybe it was their outfits, their smaller than normal stature, but I think it was their swarming ways and funny voices.  Like some surrealistic minature lynch mob all dressed the same, they would surround me and ..........anyway, I figured out why they made me nervous.  I think they were all actually commie plants.  As evidence, the last Munchkin was not born here.  He was from Ucrania, Slavickastan, one of those hammer and sickle countries over there on one side of Europe or the other. Pink as the day he was born.

Maybe now I can sleep at night.
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Not sure where this came from.  But stare at the Stars & Stripes for an hour without blinking and see what it does to you.

My Blog is Not a Dog - But It Somtimes Smells Like One

Just when I think I am a fairly intelligent adult male who has at least a smidgeon of a clue, I run into ideas, treatments, explanations and descriptions of the Universe and its contents that lose me after about the first five words. And once again humbled, I am crushed under the reality that there is always someone faster than me and there are definitely many people smarter than me. Boatloads of people. Cruise ship size boats in flotillas of people smarter than me. Their talent, their way with words, their charisma if you will, prove that I hover somewhere just above imbecile and well under, not even in the same ball park with Einstein.

So do I hang with the metaphorical "ugly chicks" just to make myself look better? I would like to think I don't. But then that conclusion is not one I am apparently intelligent enough to make. I am constantly reminded of my unintelligence by the right wingers who swing by my Dana Perino post "Wingers with Woodies". Everyone who visits these days has nothing complimentary to say about me.

I have been at this blogging thing a long time, closing in on 7 years now. If my blog was a dog, that would make my blog 49 years old in blogger time. Often my blog smells like a dog, but it is no dog. In the historical lifespans of blogs created, lived and died, my blog is ancient, older than old, like that ancient tree found out west that was alive before Jesus wore short pants. I found some information based on opinions, loosely wrapped around facts that if a blog makes it one year, it is ready for medicare.

In an effort to raise up my image in my own eyes at least, I floundered around the saved blogs in the back of the saved blog box I keep in this computer. I wanted to find blogs that made mine look good. Sadly, I only seemed to save blogs that are at worst my equal, with most of them at least several steps up the blog ladder.

One odd blog I found had me momentarily stunned. It was written as if written by a seriously deranged college professor for some high brow magazine that only the 50 people in that field could even slightly understand. It is called Communications from Elsewhere. The lead in description just below the title reads and I quote - "Deconstructing Surrealism: Neostructural theory and predialectic desublimation".

My first thought was, "How did this get in here?" My second thought was, well, I really had no second thought as I was still reeling from the complete state of clueless-ness I found myself in. Then I remembered. This was a great site. The blog owner is poking fun by creating Text Generators that will through computer magic create essays and other word related fun by punching a button. The result is nonsense that reads initailly like seriously high minded stuff but is more like the answers I used to come up with in blue books come finals week. Gotcha!

Check it out, it is great. The text generators are in the sidebar near the bottom on the right.

Anyway, back to looking after the dog.............................................

Taxing Simply

Okay, so a fellow I know pointed out to me that Herman Cain's whacky 9-9-9 plan does not impose a 30% sales tax. He is right as far as it goes. But Herman Cain has already admitted his plan is really a stepping stone to the Fair Tax plan proposed back in 2007. That plan would abolish most taxes, replacing them with a 23%(some are convinced it is really 30%) national sales tax. My friend's response was "What's wrong with simplifying the tax code? We all end up with more money in our pockets."

Hmm............The notion of condensing our tax code into one basket that will only cost us 23% (30%)of every dollar we spend does on the surface seem simple - spend less, you keep more. To a nation trained to make their mind up from 30 second soundbites and clever catch phrases, I can see why this idea might have some support.

Being prone to the same trap of relying on catchphrases and soundbites, I remembered my wife , the accountant, and her feelings about changes in the tax code. Paraphrased, her pearl of wisdom goes -

"Whenever the word 'simplify' is attached to changes in the tax code, two things happen. One the code becomes even more intricate and two, millions of accountants get richer. There is no simple tax code, just different tax codes."

Armed thusly to whatever teeth I had in my head, I visited the fair tax plan website for more information.

I am not a gifted analytical thinker. I am not gifted with much other than the ability to breath. So imagine my befuddlement when I visited a link provided by Fair Tax and attempted to understand the pros of this plan as written by Paul Bachman and others. Just the highlighted intro had my head spinning.

And while I am not a great analyst, I do have a knack for getting the gist of a thing. After reading through as many pages as I could handle before my eyes rolled up into my head, I realized my wife was correct. This plan may be simpler than the hodge podge cornucopia of taxes we pay now, but not by much, if at all.

First of all, this whole tax plan, like any new proposal is based on assumptions. The assumption is that people will not change their spending habits. We will still over consume as we always have. Okay fine. But will we? And then there is the fact that assumptions are created to paint the rosiest of pictures or the most dire of consequences. Depending on which side of the economic fence you sit on, take your pick.

This tax is still a tax and many people will still do their damndest to avoid paying it just because of what it is called. Which brings me to another assumption of the plan I don't understand. Somehow, this fair tax plan will reign in the trillion or so dollars spent that avoid the current sales taxes in play presently. Huh? My assumption is that current trillion dollars of lost taxable money will grow instead of shrink.

Another claim I have heard is the IRS will no longer be needed. Okay so I did not hear it from the Fair Tax site, but advocates of the plan have made the claim. Come on people, any tax plan will require goons to twist the arms of those of us who would skip our tax paying duty. They might change the name, but there will still be federal agents of some kind knocking on our doors if the government feels we are ducking our responsibilities.

One of the complaints about this national sales tax is that it will punish the poor. The Fair Tax Plan people have an answer for that. It is called a "Prebate". The government will issue checks preemptively in amounts that will cover the purchases of the poor up to the poverty level. Right. As is the case when the government decides what a level is, they come up with a broad brush answer that does not take into account what the poverty level is in a given region. So I make another assumption and assume that "prebate" will often fall short. And the fact that money will be spent before money is taken in seems like more of the same voodoo economic madness we deal with now.

I will say that the "Fair Tax Plan" and even Cain's "9-9-9 Plan" are at least proof someone is trying to come up with alternatives to what we all agree is an overly complicated mished and mashed tax code. But neither of them are even close to being what I would call "simple". And from what I read, the potential pitfalls that might and probably will happen will punish the most vulnerable among us first.

In my mind if the financial wizards are intent in re-creating our tax code into revenue based on consumerism, then why not just let us allocate our tax dollars in the same manner - pay into those services and government efforts we feel represent our interests.

Say everyone has to pay oh, Hell, for arguments sake any number will do, say we all have to pay 15% of our income to the Feds. But we can break it down into whatever area we want. That way we could support and change government services with our choices. Personally I would allocate all my 15% the first few years to education,infrastructure and job creation. Defense can pound sand. DEA can pound sand. Congress can pound sand. Maybe if some of these departments have their funds cut by angry citizens, they might just deliver in the future a better government. Let them compete for my tax dollars just as I compete for the dollars my customers may or may not spend in my store.

Realistically, I know this would not work out. But in my opinion, my plan is as worthy as either the Fair Tax Plan or the even shakier 9-9-9 plan. All are pie in the sky ideas that have no real place in the real world. We do not live in a simple world. And sometimes, simple solutions are not the answer.

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

The Last Heathen Standing

Has anyone ever spent time punching up the "next blog" icon at the top of their page?  Every once in awhile when I am feeling restless and have cruised my usual sites for stimulation I will seek new voices by hitting that button.  Just the other day I did this.  And what did I find?  I found God.

Of the first few blogs I saw, all were right in my face with Jesus, the Lord is my shepherd, and praise be it that God smiles on all of us. 

I took a breather.  Too much religion in too short a time.  I walked away from the computer to collect my heathenistic soul and regroup.  Many minutes later I plopped into my hard wooden chair and punched up "next blog" again.  Again another blog touting the wonders of prayer and duty to our saviour.  Punched it again.  And yeah, once more I was told in no uncertain terms that Christianity was the path to true enlightenment.  Even given chapter and verse.

Almost in a panic, I began punching the "next blog" button over and over again, hoping against hope that the whole blogosphere had not been born again while I slept.  But no, every blog that came up had serious religion wrapped into every message or post.

Where were the obnoxious teen angst blogs?  The Mommy blogs?  The I hate Liberals blogs?  Not even one blog that used squares and other wingy dingy font like images came up.  I must have hit that button 50 times and God was all I got.

Like some biblical previous believer who had been beat down over the years and lost his faith but then was confronted by events that were supposed to bring him back into the fold, I was struck dumb and stupid because nowhere did I see anyone who was not all a twitter over their religion.  Sacrilege had disappeared, replaced by pleasant faced bible thumpers urging me to see the light.

It is said there are no atheists in a foxhole.  What do they say when one is in a foxhole hunkered down to miss the fire and brimstone being lobbed at them?  What do I call that?  I am not exactly an atheist.  I am not exactly a believer.  Something in between suits my fence straddling style, but I felt inundated and overwhelmed.  What I wanted, no, make that needed to set the Blog World right for me was one blog that spouted the teachings of , oh I don't know, Satan or maybe at least Ozzie eatin a bat on stage.  Something that reflected the reality I thought was really out there.  Hell, I would have gladly accepted some brooding Goth or Emo blog.

Have I been hiding in Maine too long?  Has the western world really gone over the edge?  Am I alone, the last heathen standing? 

Where's Randal when I need him?

Doodle Bugs

A post about a pet field mouse on the Frumpy Professor's blog prompted a memory of mine from my life while living in Tampa, Florida in the early 1960s.  The Professor wrote about his experience of finding a Field mouse and then convincing his parents to let him "bring it back to health".  He promised to let it go the following Spring.

I asked my parents once to save an injured bird from the obvious evil awaiting it should I let it go.  My request was shut down almost as quickly as I said it.  "Absolutely not!  We've been through that already with your brothers.........Get rid of it."

I was not aware of the saying "It is easier to ask forgiveness than ask permission."  I utilized it's wisdom anyway.  I took the poor critter in, hid it in my room and tried to nurse it back to health.  It died anyway.  Plus I was caught and the wisdom of that saying was lost in an instant, replaced by the wisdom of, "When I tell you to do something, you damn well better do it."  I remember some restricted to quarters time and extra chores followed in due course.

I then embraced the wisdom of, "Just don't get caught".  I had mixed results over the following years, fine tuning my efforts until the day I figured out that often "not getting caught" was more of my parents not saying anything until I pulled a more flagrant and obnoxious break in accepted conduct.

I continued to bring creatures home.  Some I got away with, some I did not.  Every snake I tried to keep under wraps always managed to escape and then all Hell would break loose.  I had better luck with the mole and the several lizards I befriended.  Though the night my dad stomped the life out of one gecko while trying to find the bathroom in the dark had maybe the most memorable consequences.  Corporal punishment and a school bus missing interrogation awaited me in the morning. 

Of all the illegal animals I kept finding and bringing home, the ones I remember best and the ones I successfully hid the longest was my colony of Antlions, or Doodle Bugs as they are often called in the South.

They existed in the soft sandy dirt under the eaves of our house in Tampa, Florida.  I first noticed their cone like pits in the dirt.  As any 10 year old would, I had to know why these pits were here.  I got down on my knees and really looked at them.  At first nothing.  At some point I must have watched an ant stumble into one of the pits.  As it struggled to scramble out, it's efforts only caused it to fall further into the pit until out of nowhere from under the bottom, a nasty looking creature struck in the blink of an eye and dragged the poor unfortunate ant to it's doom.

WOW!  Now that was cool.

For awhile I enjoyed my antlions outside where they lived.  I got so I could get them to come out through trickery.  I would tickle the sides of the pit with a twig or blade of grass and slowly move it down until ...........the claws came out and struck the twig.  It always made me jump.

I decided to capture one and take it inside with me.  I found a shoe box with a top and filled it with the dirt from under the eaves.  I caught an antlion and tossed him in the shoe box, and stuffed the the box under my bed.  I don't think I named him or her.  But for the next week or so I made this bug the focal point of all my spare attention. 

It quickly constructed a pit and took in the first ant offered.  I began to feed it an ant a day until I noticed many ants were going uneaten.  Instead of cutting back on the ants, I captured more antlions until I had at least 6 pits going 24/7 in that shoe box.  I would waste hours messing with their pits just to watch them re-build.  Eventually I found that an ant every other day for each pit seemed to be the right feeding schedule.

It all ended after about six months when my mom found the box and tossed it out.  She asked why I had a box of dirt under my bed.  I had learned by that time any answer but the truth would have been caught immediately, so I came clean.  Oddly, all she did was tell me to not say anything to my father.  No problem there.  My lips were sealed.  And my brief encounter with antlions came to an end.

When the Professor's post jogged this memory, I googled "antlion" to re-acquaint myself with them.  As usual multi thousands of hits popped up.  I even noticed that one can "buy" antlion farms on the Internet.  And my first thought was, "Well, that must have been the first million dollar opportunity I missed in my life."  I could have cornered the market if I had kept at it.

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

Erratic Consistency

Having been off the grid so to speak for a week or so, now that I am back, I wondered what may have happened during my absence that may even be worth commenting on.  .............................

...........................Well, not much it seems.  The planet still spins with erratic consistency as it always has.  And contrary to the notion that we do not get along, humans continue to mesh together as well as could be expected.  So I guess I did not miss much.

Sure, there are still many places where we insist on ruining each other's day.  But that has been part and parcel of our collective experience from the first moment one cave clan encountered another cave clan.  Nothing new there.  Barring any world wide event or series of events, I don't see much changing in the near future.  We will continue to stumble our way towards the next millennium, each day increasing the odds that some future day will be our last day.  It would seem logical given the historical rise and fall of the critters that preceded us.  So far,  every top of the food chain prehistoric creature has worn out its welcome.  It would be terribly presumptuous of us to think we could beat this historical reality.

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

And with my second cup of coffee this AM, a leap of logic or maybe I just tripped over a tangent, but the notion of Sentience found its way to the top of the shit pile in my mind.

I thought about sentience for several minutes before I asked Wiki their opinion.  That many more intelligent minds than mine have been able to qualify, quantify, and then supply a definition much more substantial and intricate than my own feeble thoughts on the definition of sentience was I expected.  I have had many years to get used to my second banana brain.

I was not surprised though that the concept of sentience is another of those ego building notions thought up to justify our position as the species most likely to succeed.  Another rationale or excuse for the things we do to the other living things not blessed with opposable thumbs and the ability to understand the subtle nuances of "The Wives of Orange County".  Another excuse to assuage any guilt for the exploitation of the planet we exist on.  That somehow since we can reason, we have the right to do what we want to those we deem less than sentient.  It is no wonder then that depending on how much our heart bleeds, our definition of it changes.  Sort of like our views on religion, politics, and any other human action that means someone wins by making someone else lose.

Before this post becomes a condemnation of what we are, what we have done, and what we will or might do in the future, I would say that I actually think we are not a terrible species.  About average I would say.  Which delegates us as just another group of animals trying to get by the best that they can.

Certainly we exploit the resources around us.  Certainly we destroy or damage the eco-existence of other living things in our quest to survive.  That is the natural way of things.  Most every living thing does that.  But to our credit, within our collective conscience, more of us have begun to understand that our longer term survival depends more on stewardship of the planet, than the mindless exploitation that has worked so far.   Instinct is slowly being supplanted by Reason.

My only question is - Is this realization too little, too late?

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

Dying

He wondered why here.  Why now.

He knew it didn't matter.

He puzzled over it anyway

As his life's blood trickled down rock faces

Crumpled and twisted oddly, 

he could only see one tree

Off in the distance as a bird floated by

Any moment he was sure

His life would also wander by

He thought it might be getting dark

Even though the sun rode high in the skies

His breathing slowed down

And he closed his eyes

What had once been a full life
Was now but an empty dream

________________________________

Image from http://s172.photobucket.com/home/CrimsonMoonFire

Angry Serfs at the Palace Gate

In a 21st century remake of  angry serfs at the palace gate, throngs of polyester clad peasants wearing John Deere caps  brandish electronic rakes and pitchforks as they roll through the Internets gathering steam parroting the fear and hate spoon fed them by leaders who smile with greasy lips over the turmoil they have managed to stir up. 

Playing on the fears of the certified and assured bitter harvests in the future held dear and near the dark parts of what they call their minds, these self appointed protectors of the stupid fire up their Walmartian minions with unfounded claims and soon another undeserving soul is pilloried in the electronic equivalent of the town square.

As it was in the good ole days of Inquisitors and snake oil sellers, the truth becomes once again just another commodity to be traded in on mythical beasts coming for our daughters and imaginary government goons wanting to suck out our Life Essence so that the Devil, Beezlebub, Lucifer can enjoy three finger shots of our blood during Happy Hour at the Pinko Commie Islamic Bar n Grill.

Yes my friends, there is evil out there.  It wears a burka and waves a crescent graced flag.  It lurks with bated breath concealed in the shadows behind do-gooder facades that hide its insidious and dastardly purposes from the light of day.   There's a good reason the windows are painted over.

Carrying red, white n' blue standards, brave men and chaste women bunch up their panties as they gather in small groups on small minded stages to tell us what we want to hear, what we need to hear.  We know they are being straight with us by informing us it is not only okay to be pissing our pants over events that have not happened, but imperative that we focus on the worst case scenario even though a thousand other events must happen in just the right sequence first.  They most assuredly will because weasel faced Beckomann O'Hannity media monsters insist these doomsday dreams into existence.  For fear my quaking friends..... Fear will set us free.  It will release us from the responsibilities  of rational thought and productive solutions.  Being scared shitless is so much easier than thinking.  So much more convenient.

Meanwhile..................................

On the other side of the planet or somewhere in between, the other peons drinking the same kool aid only differing in hue are being rabble roused by similar dedicated demagogues sporting fancy turbans who have also assured their witlessly scared throngs that Evil is found out West in the Home of the Depraved, where the twin towers used to wave over streets dedicated to stealing their souls and ravaging their 72 Virgins.   Flinging Fatwas like Frisbees they send their loyal idiots on missions clad in exploding vests to fill  the Western cowpokes with dread..

And so it goes............The circle will not be broken. 

Lucifer sitting casually at Day Trader Vic's in his power tie and wing tipped loafers again sips and savors the fruits of his labor wherever he goes.  He cackles and rubs his hands together as if warming himself over the fires of Hell he has managed to visit upon all of us.  The red dude sure knows how to throw a party, even though the cover charge is more than we can afford.  He has convinced us all we need is plastic and a low interest mortgage on our souls. 

And while this world wide calamity unfolds around me,  while the firestorm builds to planet cracking temperatures, I sit here in a stupor among the pines and deer shit wondering why I didn't buy that 18 pack of Rolling Rock when I was in town earlier.
_________________________________

Okay.  Yeah.  I will admit that the previous whatever it might be or could be or almost was --- is the result of more beers than my current tolerance level is used to.  But hey there is a silver lining.  I get to rationalize  my earlier almost did it but didn't and now I have the excuse that being out of beer is a perfect excuse to take advantage of that $9.99 box of 18 bottles of Rolling Rock I saw stacked high as a giraffe's eye at the discount store in Sanford.  There is such a thing as cheap good beer.  And if there is indeed still the possibility of good cheap beer, all is not lost.  It is not as bad as I thought.  And even if it is, if the shit hits the fan this weekend, I will be able to quence my Hellfire planet destructiing induced thirst with cheap good beer.   And that is what really matters.

"33"................................................