She was ready to deny the existence of space and time rather than admit that love might not be eternal
Simone de Beauvoir

Admral Skull by Frank Hamilton
Click images for desktop size: “Admiral Skull” by Frank Hamilton
I’m going to have to remove all the mp3’s from the site.
I’ve spent a lot of energy in not monetizing this site. And I get approached a lot. I find it strange. I The Great Escape mean I track the 100 or so visitors that come here a day. I don’t track them but I like the little counter at the bottom of the page. It counts the number of people who come here to the front page and that manages to exclude the number of google image searches and the ilk. I like to think of people enjoying the pretty pictures but i don’t feel the need to count them. Some people do though. I guess if you count the people I don’t know the site has about 47,000 visits a day. Which is still not that many.
That also doesn’t count robots. Little apps that crawl the whole structure of the site. I have most robots turned off in robot.txt but , of course, complying with robot.txt is voluntary.
About a half dozen of these robots are looking for mp3’s. Which is no big deal except these robots generate html links to sites that sell the mp3’s for money. Which I think is creepy and wrong. But what bugs me is that they never asked me or even told me what they were doing and a few of their rather lazy customers assume that I get a cut or get pay from these sites!!
I think there are enough places in this world who view the world as a walking wallet and enough people conniving how best to extract money from you. I wanted to make sure that this thing of mine was a haven from that. It’s the point, among a myriad million other diffuse points, of this thing.
So I guess the best thing is just to delete the mp3’s.
The podcasts stay though. No one has figured out to extract money from them yet!

It’s been a bad week for me. I hope for no one else. I had to go back to work. Bad news. I live in a “Right to Work” state. That means workers have no rights. I mean none. Not even the right to a A Letter by Vargas
Click images for desktop size: “A Letter” by Vargas
coffee break or a lunch 15 minutes. No rights whatsoever. And plenty of employers who contrive to exploit that.
Our new little white puppy had to go in for heart worm treatment. I once had another little girl who died of heart worm so I’m a bit obsessive about it. They inject the dog with arsenic to kill the heart worm. They use long needles in the lumbar region. Then it’s important, as in life or death important, that the little girl stay as quiet and as unexcited as possible for two months!
The first night the little girl cried woefully and it agony all night. The next day she had to be rushed to the vet. It seemed she was having a bad reaction to the pain killer she gets for the heart worm treatment.Guys And Dolls
That night the giant (100 lb. plus) dog broke through the baby gate and attacked the little girl. She had to rush to the emergency vet. Three hundred bucks and a lousy patch up job later and she was still alive and all right and probably regretting ever being “rescued”.
She’s such a sweet and gentle thing she bears no grudge or anger. She tore me up pretty badly but that was always just her panic and pain. The pain she did to my body was minor to the pain and guilt I felt for letting her down and being remiss in protecting her.
She smiled at me today and that makes it better.
I’m still angry with giant dog.

This is a failed podcast. I wanted to tell an emotional story to celebrate my wife’s birthday. Somehow it comes off as just a bit of an uptempo mess that’s pretty much subject to incorrect interpretation. But there’s some great tunes here and you can dance to it. And, get right down to it all these podcasts are for my wife anyway.

The Cool and The Crazy 7
Lady, That’s My Skull

Gene Pitney & George Jones – I’ve Got $5 And It’s Saturday Night
Shonen Knife – Bitzkrieg Bop
Ricky Nelson – There’s Good Rockin’ Tonight
Bob Luman – Let’s Think About Living
Strangeloves – I Want Candy
Elvis Brothers – Motormouth
Wanda Jackson – Riot In Cell Block Number 9
Beat Farmers – Hollywood Hills
Preston Epps – Bongo Rock
Buckinghams – I Call Your Name
Phantom Rocker & Slick – My Mistake
Adam Schmitt – Can’t Get You On My Mind
Spirit Of Troy – Hang On Sloopy
Boss Hoss – Go! Go! Go!
Travoltas – Barbra Ann
Me First & The Gimmee Gimmees – Sloop John B
Los Planatronics – Shape Of Things To Come
Del Shannon= Reason To Believe
Starry Eyed & Laughing – Chimes Of Freedom
Byrds – 5D
Dl Byron – Listen To The Heartbeat
Downbeat 5 – Dum Dum Ditty
Roy Orbison – You Got It
Trashmen – New Generation
Weird Al Yankovic – Canadian Idiot
Boss Martians – She Moves Me
Equals – Police On My Back
Bomboras – David’s Mood
Jigsaw Seen – The Daily Planet
Gene Pitney – It’s Over

There is only one good, knowledge, and one evil, ignorance

Nude By Harvey Dunn
Click images for desktop size: “Nude” by Harvey Dunn
My wife is back.
The only remotely sad thing about that she stayed so busy these last 6 weeks that she gave her self The Naked Cage no time to mourn the passing of her father. Her business was mostly dealing with her father’s small but large enough estate. The estate and meeting up with family members from which family craziness meant she was estranged. Families are always crazy to outsiders. It’s the reason to just observe and not to interfere.
She also got the Canadian house ready to sell. She drove back from Canada in a 17 foot truck loaded with the possessions that couldn’t be donated or comfortably thrown away. Behind the truck she hauled a trailer with her Jeep on the trailer! She survived it well enough except when she hit town she discovered the jerks at U-Hau had loaded her Jeep onto the trailer but then had not bothered to chain it down, use any chains or safety precautions or even bothered to hook up the brake lights and the turn signsls. They just plopped it on there and told her she was ready to go.
On this end the U-Haul guy was horrified and said we should file a complaint with the corporate office . . .
All the puppies and I are very glad she’s back home.

We have a new puppy. Her name is Portia, which is a dumb name for a dog. She’s a white bull terrier mix, she’s got lots of black freckles on her with interesting patterns on her ears. She also has a fascinating roscharch pattern on her butt. I spend a lot of time staring at dog’s butts when I walk them. I think I might be an expert on them. Portia is stone deaf which makes a lot of intriguing situations. She pulled the leash out of my hands already and run like a maniac down the street. I have so idea what stopped her but she skidded to a halt and turned around to run like a maniac at me so she could jump into my stomach. Portia weighs a compact 54 pounds but the hurt of her jump was washed away with the Skeletor Victorious by DSFSD
Click images for desktop size: “Skeletor Victorious” by DSFSD
relief of not losing the new dog on the second day.
She’s sweet. Not only is she deaf but she’s heart worm positive. They had her on death row at the shelter. That didn’t affect out decision to adopt her just increased the urgency.
My wife is volunteering at the shelter and that eased the way to let the little girl live.

I’m coaching basketball. I know. Me. Basketball.
I’m only an assistant which means I’m backing up a fine young man who’s caught in the small town miasma here which works well at stifling potential. I’ll have fun bossing young people around and guiding my HC to a better understanding of his life and his ways to win games and in life.
They fixed my encapsulated shoulder on Friday. The treatment didn’t take as well in my right shoulder as it did 3 years ago in the left. I say better doctoring back then. I’m facing physical therapy again. I have a lot of pain but I think the shoulder has stopped aching. The pain is from the muscles I screwed up compensating for the frozen shoulder. As in my shoulder feeling separated because I was forcing it to come into use about 6 inches sooner than it should so I could reach forward and to the side.
Still, it’s better.

And the election is over. The zombies didn’t win. I dislike the conservative extremists as much as I dislike the hippies on the left. They all just want to take away my freedoms, one in the lie of protecting the freedom of corporations the other in the name of protecting justice for corporations and ‘some” people.
But ti’s time to relax while the right pours out it’s drivel and corrupt cowardice, while the left brags about a mandate.
I just want to live and to dance and to party. Which brings me to our next podcast!
It’s just fun for the most part. Any messages are heavy handed enough to be obvious. My wife came back. It’s just time to have some fun. There’s even a couple of secret requests in there,

The Cool and The Crazy 5 – The Party That Matters

The Party That Matters

Kinks – Shepherds Of The Nation
Dropkick Murphys – Cadence To Arms
Lolas – Feelin’ So Good (S.K.O.O.B.Y.D.O.O.)
Step – Love Letter
Wanders – Please Don’t Touch
Dave Clark 5 – Bits And Pieces
Del Shannon – Hats Off To Larry (live)
Mighty Gordinis – Heavy X Soul Explosion
Teen Machine – Yummy Yummy Yummy
Sandy Nelson – Let There Be Drums
Joe Hall & The Corvettes – Bongo Beating Beatnik
Johnny Rivers – Help Me Rhonda
Collins Kids – Hoy Hoy
Equals – Baby Come Back
Wet Willie – Keep On Smilin’
Eddie And The Showmen – Mr Rebel
Madd – Would I Still Be Her Big Man
Bobby Fuller – Love’s Made A Fool Of You
Little Boy Blues – The Great Train Robbery
Ed James – You And Whose Army?
Prodigy – Stand Up
Beach Boys – Drive-In
Tip Toppers – Little Bit O’ Soul
Ronnie Self – Bop A Lena
Ran Dells – Martian Hop
Untamed Youth – Hey Elly Mae
Deke Dickerson & The Eccofonics – Run Boy Run
Jon And The Nightriders – Be My Baby\Don’t Worry Baby
Gene Vincent – Bring It On Home
Black Watch – Amazing Grace

Mark Kelly – Husband of Gabby Giffords

Dark Day by Benny

Click images for desktop size: “Dark Days” by Benny
Mark Kelly is the husband of Gabby Giffords. Giffords was one of the victims of the Tuscon Arizonia shooting many believe was inspired by the hate speech of Sarah Palin. Th following is the statement read into the record at the sentencing hearing of Jared Loughner, the man who shot Giffords in the head. Giffords shot 19 people that day, including children, yet, inexplicably this damaged man is still a hero to too much of the Christian Right. They defend him and they claim that if another person at the public rally was armed it would have ended differently. Whether that means the other armed person might have shot Lougner or joined him in extending the carnage is always unclear to me.
I should clarify that in my mind the person not actively involved in stopping evil is supporting evil.
The text below is from the transcript. It made me cry.Creepy 1970

Mr. Loughner, for the first and last time, you are going to hear directly from Gabby and me about what you took away on January 8th, 2011 and, just as important, what you did not. So pay attention.
That bright and chilly Saturday morning, you killed six innocent people. Daughters and sons. Mothers and fathers. Grandparents and friends. They were devoted to their families, their communities, their places of worship.
Gabby would trade her own life to bring back any one of those you savagely murdered on that day. Especially young Christina-Taylor Green, whose high-minded ideas about service and democracy deserved a full life committed to advancing them. Especially 30-year old Gabe Zimmerman, whom Gabby knew well and cherished, and whose love for his family and his fiancee and service to his country were as deep as his loss is tragic. Especially Judge John Roll, whom Gabby was honored to call a colleague and friend and from whose interminable dedication to our community and country she gained enormous inspiration. Gabby would give anything to take away the grief you visited upon the Morrises, the Schnecks, and the Stoddards – anything to heal the bodies and psyches of your other victims.
And then there is what you took from Gabby. Her life has been forever changed. Plans she had for our family and her career have been immeasurably altered. Every day is a continuous struggle to do those things she was once so very good at. Gabby is a people person: she exudes kindness, creativity, and compassion. If she were not born with the name – “Gabby” – someone would have given it to her. Now she struggles to deliver each and every sentence. Her gift for language can now only be seen in Internet videos from a more innocent time.
Dream Forest by Geopics

Click images for desktop size: “Dream Forest” by Geopics
Gabby was an outdoor enthusiast. She was often seen rollerblading with her friend Raoul in Reed Park, hiking in Sabino Canyon, or careening down Rillito Wash Trail on her bike, as she was the night before you tried and failed to murder her. She hasn’t been to any of those places since, and I don’t know when she’ll return.
There’s more. Gabby struggles to walk. Her right arm is paralyzed. She is partially blind. Gabby works harder in one minute of an hour – fighting to make each individual moment count for something – than most of us work in an entire day.
Mr. Loughner, by making death and producing tragedy, you sought to extinguish the beauty of life. To diminish potential. To strain love. And to cancel ideas. You tried to create for all of us a world as dark
 and evil as your own.

 But know this, and remember it always: You failed.
Your decision to commit cold-blooded mass murder also begs of us to look in the mirror. This horrific act warns us to hold our leaders and ourselves responsible for coming up short when we do, for not having the courage to act when it’s hard, even for possessing the wrong values.
We are a people who can watch a young man like you spiral into murderous rampage without choosing to intervene before it is too late.Indian Boy at Crow Fair by Bama
We have a political class that is afraid to do something as simple as have a meaningful debate about our gun laws and how they are being enforced. We have representatives who look at gun violence, not as a problem to solve, but as the white elephant in the room to ignore. As a nation we have repeatedly passed up the opportunity to address this issue. After Columbine; after Virginia Tech; after Tucson and after Aurora we have done nothing.
In this state we have elected officials so feckless in their leadership that they would say, as in the case of Governor Jan Brewer, “I don’t think it has anything to do with the size of the magazine or the caliber of the gun.” She went on and said, “Even if the shooter’s weapon had held fewer bullets, he’d have another gun, maybe. He could have three guns in his pocket” – she said this just one week after a high capacity magazine allowed you to kill six and wound 19 others, before being wrestled to the ground while attempting to reload. Or a state legislature that thought it appropriate to busy itself naming an official Arizona state gun just weeks after this tragedy occurred, instead of doing the work it was elected to do: encourage economic growth, help our returning veterans and fix our education system.
The challenges we face are so great, but the leadership in place is so often lacking. In so many moments, I find myself thinking, “We need Gabby.” In letter after letter, I’ve seen that others agree. As Americans mourned the six who died, they also mourned the loss of a representative who embodied the service they realized they should expect from those they elect, the type of person our county desperately needs to provide leadership and solve problems. Gabby was a courageous member of congress. Willing to stand up to the establishment when the establishment was wrong. She was thirsty for partnership across the aisle and was an unrelenting champion for her 600,000 constituents. One of which was you.
There’s something else Gabby and I have been spending a lot of time thinking about. The way we Donna Ferrato

Click images for desktop size: “Untitled” by Donna Ferrato
conduct politics must change. Sure it’s easier to win a debate if you can turn your opponent into a demon, but that’s not how we move forward. Not only does slash and burn politics make Americans cynical about their leaders, but it leads to bad ideas. It creates problems instead of solving the ones we have now.
Even amid all that was lost, Gabby and I give thanks for her life, her spirit, and her intellect, which are a continued force in this world despite what you’ve done. We exalt in sharing our lives with each other and with our family and friends.
As a city, Tucson has grown stronger. We love this community, and we love our neighbors. We are resilient, and the dynamism and compassion of our fellow Tucsonans will continue to push this city forward.
And there is what persists in Gabby: her love for this city, this state and this country. Her commitment to lifting us all up, and her ability to lead. Mr. Loughner, you may have put a bullet through her head, but you haven’t put a dent in her spirit and her commitment to make the world a better place.

 Mr. Loughner, pay close attention to this: Though you are mentally ill, you are responsible for the death and hurt you inflicted upon all of us on January 8th of last year. You know this. Gabby and I know this.

Everyone in this courtroom knows this.
You have decades upon decades to contemplate what you did. But after today. After this moment. Here and now. Gabby and I are done thinking about you.

A trap is only a trap if you don’t know about it. If you know about it, it’s a challenge.
China Miéville
USC 14 Stanford 21

1950 by Chiriaka

Click images for desktop size: “1950” by Chiriaka
I’ve been thinking about odd old times. Breakfasts, meeting people, great and not so great people; old housemates and just stuff.
I think it’s just my brain trying to convince me of my own mortality.Steam Heat
We all know how it goes: Even though we’re sane enough to know we’re going to die someday we still act and think like we’re immortal. It’s normal and the way of it. It’s why many of us need religion.
Of course I just keep hurtling on. Unstoppable. Irresistible. Tall.
My wife lost her mother, not a year ago. Now her step-father entered the hospital last night. No handle on what the problem is. Might just be gall stones. They hurt but don’t kill.
My wife is going to have to leave me soon; to see him and to get her house on the market. I’ll miss her.
She said something to me that was surprising. She’s afraid to get a new dog (not because four dogs is too much) but because after my sojourn to the hospital she’s afraid I’ll die and leave her all alone with no job and incapable of taking care of the puppies we already have.
I’ve never died before so I have no real idea of what it might feel like. I only know I’m not finished yet. I made a promise and demanded that I live at least 1 day more than my dogs. Life is cruel but not so cruel as to repay my puppies joy with that much lost harshness.
And now it’s a promise I have to keep.
My wife has been through too much this last year. I hope she can find enough strength and love to hold on. The pups can give her all the love any person could ever need. I used to have the strength and stubbornness to loan it out without worrying about getting it back, I probably still do.

My first “podcast” seems to have been accepted well. I making another. It’s fun.
You can find it now at the and on the iTunes store. You can even get it on all the iPodcast apps and even on AppleTV. I think that’s cool.

Only the educated are free
Eleanor Roosevelt

The Collousus Of New York

Click images for desktop size: “The Collousus Of New York”
I was in the hospital for 3 days.
I didn’t like it.

I went to the hospital because my feet were so swollen and I was having this freaky chest pain, like The Psychic a heartening dizzy spell. The pain on my chest was heavy then it would vanish with a light fluttering that left me spaced and approaching euphoria. I wasn’t too sure that this wan’t the way that death would signal its approach.
The heavily swollen feet and legs indicated congestive heart failure but all the tests, and there were plenty of tests, showed that I did not have another heart attack. There were four blood tests to back this up.
They took a lot of effort to explain to me each time that they were only taking about half a cup of blood so I needn’t worry. About then they realized that my present EKG looked better than my EKG from about 2 years ago. My heart has been healing but still showed about 17% of it was dead, or in medical euphemisms wasn’t beating as efficiently as the rest.
They had me all wired up to do a stress test for a sonogram of my heart when they abruptly decided to switch over to nuclear medicine for a more exact picture of my heart.
In nuclear medicine they inject you intravenously with some radioactive isotopes that cling to your heart so they can do a catscan like picture of the thing. They were going to do it twice; once with my heart rested and then another trip to the treadmill to stress test it and me.
But then came the rub. They took me to the bench to do the layered x-rays. When they strapped me in the trouble started. No one but orthopedists take a frozen shoulder veery seriously. They don’t relate or even glimmeringly comprehend the intense pain it brings.
My right shoulder feels as if it’s dislocated while the shoulder blade feels exactly like a bad separation. I’ve done them both often enough to be able to dissect the pain. Because of all the Deadly Theory by Hans Bok

Click images for desktop size: “Deadly Theory” by Han Bok
inflammation in the shoulder important nerves and veins and arteries get squished and shut off so it feel alternately as if the arm is going to explode from too much blood coagulating in the hand and arm, to tingling numbness as it falls asleep starving for blood. The muscles in the hand and arm knot of ferociously trying to protect themselves. They do quite a job at that. When I had the frozen shoulder on my left side it was 3 times a week physical therapy for 7 months to get 80% of the use of my left arm back.
The Nuclear Medicine bench os about 1 foot wide. They strapped me to it with 2 1/2″ black nylon straps, which is fine enough but they wanted my left hand strapped over my head with my right arm strapped flat against my right side.
It didn’t work.
My body convulsed from the pain like those movies of mental patients getting electroshock therapy. It was beyond my control.Psycho
They conferred and gave me some intravenous tylenol. Sitting there relaxed it took away the pain in the shoulder immediately! When they went to strap me up again the pain bounced back unbearably. So they decided to do morphine. The pain ate through the double dose of morphine like it didn’t exist. So after more conferring and me suggesting they just knock me out we had to wait for a special doctor to come down and inject me with about 150 units of demerol.
It was expected that this would knock me out and Nuclear Medicine could get back on schedule. The demerol knocked me for a loop. My shoulder felt like it was non-existent. My wife showed up about then. I remember wishing she’d brought along one of the dogs. Demerol is synthetic heroin. Eichmann of the Nazi’s was addicted to it. Five to ten times more powerful then heroin is the hype. It’s the crack of the downer world. I don’t much like narcotics. The high lasts too long for my tastes and the side effects are creepy. And in my case they didn’t work.
Angel by Unknown

Click images for desktop size: “Untitled” by Unknown
they expected me to lie dead still for 15 minutes, even with the demerol I could only lie still for about 45 seconds at best, and that 45 seconds was filled with terrifying agony.
After more conferring they decided to try it with me lying on my stomach with both hands over my head. The demerol made this endurable but it still hurt like hell.
But the vengeance was still to come. It was decided since I had enough narcotics in me to knock me out I couldn’t so the stress test on the treadmill. I told them I was fine but they ignored me as an idiot. As it is only my body that I know pretty well. They told me I was going to do a chemical stress test. An injection that would fool my body into thinking I had just spent 30 minutes running uphill. I could have done without the reassurance that if the injection caused a heart attack that I was in the best place to have that heart attack.Problem Girls
The chemical stress test was the worst experience of my adult life. The only thing that compares was the time when I was 10 and I got cast in a riptide at Zuma Beach and nearly drowned trying to get back to shore.
Suddenly I could not breathe, all the strength flooded from my arms and legs. My torso felt on fire and burned hollow, the only thing there were my lungs fighting desperately for a tiny wisp of air.
The doctors were satisfied. I could go get the next Nuclear catscan. It was worse than the first one. They screwed it up the first time so I had to do it twice.
My wife spent her time with me. I was grateful. I worried about her as I knew the last time she’d been in a hospital it was to do a death watch on her mother. It was too recent not to be in the front of her thoughts. We managed to find her favorite show (“What Not To Wear”) on TV. I wonder if she’s serious about going to the hospital every Friday night to see the seasons reruns.
After a couple of sonograms on my legs and liver they released me. I went to work the next day as if I don’t work I don’t get paid. Work was terrible. The after effect of the narcotics was too reminiscent of the aftereffects of chemotherapy. I was seriously nauseous, my shoulder screaming at me and I was still having the spells that signal the pale rider.
We got through it.
The dogs were thrilled to see me again. My little girls keeps staring at me adoringly which is a bit disconcerting. I’m used to her bullying me.

Self-praise is for losers. Be a winner. Stand for something. Always have class, and be humble.
John Madden

Chrysalis by JW McGinnis

Click images for desktop size: “Chrysalis” by JW McGinnis
My days are spent dealing with under educated products of the Bush era “No child left behind” junta. Coffee skinned young men who’s main experience in life comes from TV.Confessions of a Window Cleaner
Like the fellow who the cops came and took away the other day. He was in his early twenties. He was working hard to look urban and hard, he ware the tiny jeans and the sway and swagger, a yellow shirt and a blue baseball cap perched at a ridiculous angle on his braids.
His success in life was paralleled by his success in growing a beard. His beard and mustache were indistinct smears that make his face look smeared and blurry instead of masculine.
He had a tattoo but it wasn’t cool. It was more a fifties sailor tattoo than an urban statement. The kind of tattoo they invented laser removal for.
In line behind him was a guy running up to sixty and sixty didn’t want him. He has ebon black skin and a better mustache and deep wrinkles instead of the blurry beard. He and the kid are dressed in the same wannabee urban style. On the kid it looks just sad and silly. On an older man it looks desperate and frightenly illogical.
Both man and kid work to project that hard edge urban toughness. They haven’t had the experience. They’ve never been to the city let alone lived in the asphalt and steel. So their interpretation of the attitude comes across as weak meanness smothered in rudeness.
This doesn’t mean they don’t have guns and needs. It doesn’t make them less dangerous. Maybe it makes them more dangerous as they’re incapable of understanding the world and their reactions to it.
I’m the manager of of an internet cafe except the main purpose is internet sweepstakes, which plays out like bogus video slots. I manage the most popular “casino” “slots parlor” in the town. I ride herd on the obese women who spend their tip money and paychecks trying to win $500 for a quarter or $1,000 for fifty cents all the way up to $13k for $6.50. Even when they win and discover that $500 The Shadow by Frank Hamilton

Click images for desktop size: “The Shadow” by Frank Hamilton
or even $13,000 is never going to change their lives or improve their worlds they still keep coming back. Most of them every day.
They sit at cheap e-machine computers and click a mouse that spins jpgs of fruit and symbols for hours and sometimes days chasing a whisper of hope.
The job debilitates me. It wears me down to the last layer of skin before the muscle and skin break through and bleed. It fatigues me to groin level depths of weakness.
My wife is finally down here. The dogs are finally all together. We’re stepping all over each other while we search for something livable. It should be a happy time and it is.
I’m watching movies and listening to music and petting the puppies and laughing at them. In this little space the world is good if flawed. The flaws aren’t fatal and will vanish soon enough.
I haven’t had the energy to update this thing. I’ve paid a price for it. Now that I’ve typed out these thoughts about my customers I’ve banished them from my memory. I have no more need to keep them in my thoughts. I can focus more clearly on what’s important to me and the life of my little family. Convicted Woman
I’m a brooder. I think and rethink things holding on to them until I reach a conclusion. Writing them down makes things fait accompli. Over and done.
Silly but sillier still to defy truth. I’m not a 21st Century Republican.
I’m going to try and update more often. Right now I’m in dire straits physically. I’ve got the frozen shoulder again. This time in my right shoulder. It messes with my body badly. Yesterday I woke up and my legs were swollen about 3 inches larger all the way around. I slept on the floor with my feet up and got my legs down to merely swollen this morning. I took the dogs out in the pouring rain and my feet didn’t hurt.
My shoulder keeps me from sleeping well. The pain is still the worst I’ve ever had to deal with. Worse than a heart attack.
‘ How happy am I to have my family with me can be measured by the fact I haven’t lost my sense of happiness.

Give a man a fire and he’s warm for a day, but set fire to him and he’s warm for the rest of his life
Terry Pratchett


Click images for desktop size: “Elephant” by Unknown
I like movies from the early sixties. They were momentous movies and big stories that were only about people.Rinty
It was the bigness of ourselves that gave the stories their weight, the importance of ourselves to ourselves and to each other that made the morals important. The universe didn’t have to be in jeopardy to keep our interest because there was enough universe in each of us to make any story interesting.
There was time to smile and laugh and tragedy didn’t always mean that life could only end in death. It was a more complicated time because we were a more social race then. We were smarter and had to be better educated in order to survive and thrive in a world were madness only burbled over a distant horizon, instead of at our doorstep.
One such movie I can always quote is “Soldier In The Rain”. It doesn’t follow all of my guidelines but it’s still pretty indicative. It starts out a light hearted military comedy but then, for a period grows dark. The dramatic impetus is the death of Steve McQueens dog, Donald.
We never see Donald in the movie, except for a small snapshot, but he is an overriding presence in the story, a thing that is real but also encapsulates all the hopes and dreams of a man, because that is simply what dog’s do.
Loaded with grief Mcqueen retreats to his local bar to have a beer because that is what men do to swallow their grief. There, a few bar flies begin chatting him up trying to hustle some free drinks. McQueen talks about Donald and the bar flies give unconvincing support. McQueen talks in sad rapture about Donald and then orders a round for the barflies, He stands up and smiles then says, “Mister, you never had you no dog.”
It’s a scene from a moire that stayed with me since I was 8. A good scene that made a kid think about the awesomeness of a dog’s love and the depth and capacity of a man’s ability to love.
And today it reaffirms how much I love my little puppy.
With the Republican party leading the charge to try and tell us how we have to live instead of just giving us rules to co-exist by with each of us free to choose how to live I remain eternally grateful for dogs and the innocence of amateur sports.Skull Island-Kong

Click images for desktop size: “Kong-Skull Island” by Unknown

My puppy was eight years old on Tuesday. I look at her and I still see the skunky little puppy who demanded obedience and treats.
First time we met she bit me. Drew blood. She bit me and glared at me defiantly, from then on we were best friends. Shortly thereafter she got rejected by her mother and she ran to me for protection and an explanation.
When we were separated because of my heart attack and my eternal grief with governments we met again after six months. Six months where we were never permitted to say goodbye. She looked at me with terror and she bit me. When she was convinced I was not a zombie she leaned against me for pets.
A dog looks at you without prejudice. I love my wife but when she looks at me I know that she sees me through her lifetime of pain, hurts and joys. It’s the only way we can look at anyone. We’re only human. But dogs can look at you with nothing but love.
For eight years I’ve been blessed with a puppy who did anything she could to please me. She made me laugh. She commiserated when I was sad. She showed me that I could be more than I had any right to be.

The Best Laid Plans

Woman Wailing for her Demon Lover by Hannes Bok

Click images for desktop size: “Woman Wailing For Her Demon Lover” by Hannes Bok
So, I’ve been manager for two weeks and it sucks . . . What makes it worse is that the customers like me so business is up about 7% and about 20% on my shift, which means I’m even busier in a job I hate which really sucks.
Hentai It didn’t help that I put in 50 hours last week and no day off. I was told I was going to get a “write up” for working too much overtime. That makes so little sense to me I don’t want anyone to explain it to me.
Maybe things will be better when I get the next paycheck, but I doubt it sincerely.

Some fundamentalist Christian stranger went to a bit of trouble to get my e-mail address to chastise me for criticizing St Thomas Aquinas. I thought only Catholics recognized Saints. Shows a lack of knowledge of other religions on my part I guess.
So the church made him a saint. They took away St Christopher’s sainthood but I still have his medal. The church says the Pope is infallible but they took away St Christopher’s sainthood. I’ll stand by my opinion.
My memory is that Aquinas was the first guy ever canonized with no miracles to his claim or credit. And I also remember that he wasn’t canonized for his inane opinions about animals having the soul of a table, he was sainted for teaching and setting up the seminary process to churn out more and better priests. And the Catholic Church is reaping the benefits of that today.
There’s also no mention of how Aquinas survived with his contemporary who proceeded him into sainthood, St Francis. Francis proclaimed not only did animals have souls but that all creatures were his brothers and sisters in God and Christ. He preached to birds, wolves and dogs so that they might Untitled by John R Neil

Click images for desktop size: “Untitled” by John R Neil
also have redemption and enter heaven.
So when it comes to saints I’ll still to the fallen Christopher and St Francis and look at Aquinas as a political creation.
Once I lived with 4 dogs, 2 rabbits, a cockatoo, finches, a rescued sparrow and hummingbird (they’d fallen from their nests and refused to be released to the wild). When I’d come home they all had to come to me and meet me at the door, primarily to complain about the others in the house.
The sparrow liked to climb into my shirt pocket and have me tote him around. The dogs were always the most upset. The birds loved to take baths in their water dishes which drove the dogs insane and the rabbits. Well, I was convinced that the rabbits have more intelligence then most think or have the courage to accept. The rabbits would wait for the dogs to fall asleep and then they would stalk them on tip toe (!). Then when they were close enough they’d spring in the air and land right on the dog’s stomach!Grizzly
In the ensuing commotion the rabbit would run for all he was worth with the dog in hot barking pursuit. The rabbit always went for the bed. He ‘d go under it. When I looked under the bed what I’d see was the dog desperately trying to get at the bunny. For his part the bunny was munching calmly and contentedly on a piece of alfalfa he’d previously placed there; munching about 2 inches from the dog’s grasping jaws.
I have no idea why the rabbits thought this was a great joke and I also know that the dogs held no grudges as they would often sleep with the rabbits sleeping tightly against the dog’s stomachs.
Now I still think that the dog’s ability to forgive both the birds for using their water bowls as bath tubs and the rabbits for their violent practical jokes show that they have souls. If forgiveness and loving other creatures aren’t the foundations of having a soul then what good is a soul at all?

My puppy remains happy. She wants things that I don’t always understand. I’m lucky she can be patient with me, in an impatient way of course. She hasn’t made up her mind about how she feels about my new schedule. She likes me being home at night but misses me being there during the day. Another consideration of our future I guess.

And I’ve been having a wonderful time hacking my nook. I’ve added an email client to it. I tried it as a full fledged Android tablet and was not impressed. I prefer the Nook but with added features! Right now I’ve been rereading “Lone Wolf and Cub” I’m on volume 10 of 28!

You must die! I alone am best!
Yor Chun “Wutan Swordsman”

Minnesota Valley Canning Company by Andrew Wyeth

Click images for desktop size: “Minnesota Canning Company” by Andrew Wyeth
Life has been a chore lately. Debilitating heat and sweat mixed with hopeless rage and mercurial hopes.The Champ
Its like not much to walk 6 miles in a day but, nowadays, ending and starting your outside world day with that long walk and for it to be that way for 2 years is a feat, a testament to toughness and a gateway to helplessness. Independence comes at that cost most of the time.
My days have become tossing and turning in baed for 10 hours trying to get 4 hours of sleep. Then I walk around near zombie-ish for the rest of the day while I head into trying nights at work. It’s a living.
So, I’ve been spending my idle thought cycles contemplating dogs. My puppy in particular and the species in general.
It’s not that complicated. I’m not really capable of that complicated a thought process, pretty much like dogs. I’m reading this book about the emotional life of dogs: “For the Love of a Dog: Understanding Emotion in You and Your Best Friend” by Patricia B. McConnell, PhD. -whew- that’s a mouthful and so is the book.
It gets pretty laboured at times especially when it tries to justify things that we intuit are right and good but really have no apt words to describe. The greatest pleasures in the book are when they codify, justify and give weight to things we already knew about dogs but were generally met with derision or at least sceptism by people who don’t have it in them to be able to love another species.
I’ve never been able to grasp why not being able to love another species is considered cool, especially in the Judeo Christian ultra religious circle. Maybe loving an abstract that depends on faith wears out all their brain pan so they the synapses are too fatigued to love something that is standing at their side watching them with loving eyes. (I blame Thomas Aquinas a lot for this and Unknown

Click images for desktop size: “Untitled” by Unknown
the endless tripe this ancient bastard spewed out that became accepted as dogma. His whack job insistence that dogs had no more soul than a chair leg is so mean spirited and cause for so much cruelty that one can only hope he’s wandering the same circle of hell as child rapists.)
I guess the best part of the book are those chunks that make you go, “HAH! I knew it!” I, for one, always enjoy being able to toss around a book with actual words that defend and protect my position on abstract and obscure matters.
I don’t think that the book will convince the animal haters or move the stupider or shake the faith of those who condemn dogs to the same role as furniture and fashion accessories. It might convince doggie agnostics but just might. One thing that’s annoying is that McConnell works most often with working dogs and justifies the working dog as the pinnacle of doggie achievement. My puppy is a working breed and I still feel that is hog wash. Dogs are dogs and selective breeding (further proof of evolution?) might have certain purebreds crazier than others, and selective breeding may have Burglar distilled certain traits, in my experience dogs are dogs. While I might find acclimating to a Belgium shepherd easier as I know what to expect from specific breed traits there is no doubt that each of the Belgiums who’ve I’ve met and have lived with have been as different as human beings are different.
Environment, expectations and education have a greater impact than fur or skin color.
I also think McConnell comes close to but shows the timidity of all Yul Brenner And Deborah Kerr

Click images for desktop size: “Brenner & Kerr”
over academic thinkers. She comes close to but shies away from the logical conclusion that dogs have a certain amount of reasoning and rough intelligence. I think that all emotions and their grade and intensity are predicated on intelligence anyway.
Sadly the idea that an animal has the ability to reason, that they have an ability to discern the difference between right and wrong is earth shattering and controversial. Rah! It isn’t. I mean that mutant weasel who shot Congresswoman Gifford was found unfit to stand trial as he couldn’t tell the difference between right and wrong (although he was sane enough to buy and own powerful hand guns??). I think my puppies are all capable of that sort of numbskull decision. The fact that they don’t bite and crush our hands when they don’t get the treats they want is proof of that.
Animal behaviorists like to ascribe that complicated thought process to simple learned behavior. Which is scardey cat twaddle or it can be put down that all humans are simple behavior machines. I reject that theory out of hand, except in the case of mutant weasels.
Like the giant dog has a joke. He likes to go to the door and act like he needs to go outside to go to the bathroom but as soon as you get to the door he spins around and jumps up on the couch and Unknown

Click images for desktop size: “Untitled” by Unknown
laughs and laughs.
It his joke. It’s not a great joke at all but it’s nearly as good as the jokes 4 and 5 year old humans have inflicted on me.
It also knocks the behaviorists theory for a loop. The only thing giant dog gets out of his joke is that he gets to laugh at you for getting up out of the chair. He gets satisfaction from convincing us he had to go to the bathroom. He gets no food, no treats, no physical satisfaction at all except the ability to laugh at us.
As to thought he had to imagine the result. He had to desire that result and logic out a way to arrive at that result. This is a creative complicated thought process with the payoff being laughter and amusement.
I wish the joke were better but he’s just a dog.Canadian Mounties VS The Aliens

I’ve also added a new guitarist to my pantheon. Evan Foster of Boss Martians, Mystery Action and a stunning solo Surf album.
The Boss Martians are his main band but he’s bursting with so many riffs that he starts as many side projects as Jack White! But Evan is cleaner and edgier than White. At first its not obvious how stunning Evan’s guitar skills are. He believes, like me, that the song is the main thing, so his riffs are designed to make your jaw drop, they’re designed to serve the song and let the tune rip your heart out. Avoid him at your peril.
His twisted cover of Link Wray’s, “Fire And Brimstone” shows he has chops to better anybody, while his album “Instrumentals” is a maniacal take on reverb drenched excess.

One bright dot on the landscape is that I’m broke. Broke because I gave all my money to an immigration lawyer who seems very confident that my wife will be an American green card holder before Christmas.
That still makes me feel buoyant and happy.
Now it just has to happen and I will be happy.

For the quality of owning freezes you forever into “I”, and cuts you off forever from the “we”
John Steinbeck

Untitled by Marta Dahlig

Click images for desktop size: “Untitled” by Marta Dahlig
I did my blood work on Friday. They take too much blood. That night the fasting and the blood loss made me wake up with the shakes and the night sweats. Since it was in the mid 50’s being drenched At The Circus with sweat was disconcerting. My puppy, who know matter what anyone says is a good girl and very crazy, took care of me and watched over me.
The blood work was as annoying as usual. They always have to stick me too many times to find a vein. The person drawing the blood kept talking about how tight my skin was. I asked what she meant by that. No one had ever called me a tight skinned anything before. It was a good thing, a compliment I guess. I might have taken it better if the nurse in charge hadn’t put me through the usual tom foolery about how I don’t look as sick as I am.
Won’t get the results for a while. Have to get them online. Internet age. A curious thing, I think sometimes.

My wife has a new foster dog. An all white shepherd looking girl. The white girl dog was rescued from some well meaning but neglectful S4w-FashionSexPoliticsAndMusic-294.jpg

Click images for desktop size: “Unknown Goth”
abusive owners who thought they were doing the right thing . . .
The white girl is doing okay. She has issues. How could she not. She doesn’t get along with the giant dog, which is understandable but she also has issues with the gentle dog. That is not understandable.
Still, experience dictates things will calm down and mellow. Dogs are too much like people sometimes. You take a small scared person and drop them into an established family and you know what happens.
Everybody reacts differently and yet we all react the same. Most, but not all, abused creatures including people are scared. When they come into a new situation from an abusive one they spend an amazing amount of energy either succumbing to the further abuse they anticipate or, the healthier ones, doing whatever they can to try and stop the abuse from ever happening again.
Purple Angel By Artemis Rosakis

Click images for desktop size: “Purple Angel” by Artemis Rosakis
Both types of people will usually respond to some calm and some laughs. They just need the space to be jerks and in a short time, shorter for dogs, when they don’t get the terror they expect in response they give up the act. Some are too terribly abused and it takes more to get through to them, but they can be gotten through to if the goal is to let them be happy and not to control them.
I think the white girl will fit in well enough until she finds her forever home and that’s all I ever ask.

One surprising effect of the great movie :I Saw The Devil” (which my wife thought was bleh) is the typical Asian rip offs of it. A sub genre exploring the tenets and roots of evil and fighting evil when just being good is nowhere near enough?
Jeong-beom Lee’s “The Man From Nowhere” could never have existed with “I Saw The Devil”. That Bad Girl doesn’t stop it from being great. It actually benefits from the association and uses some shorthand to amplify its effects. Iy also uses a similar shorthand referring to Bresson’s “Leon” to good effect.
Lee leaves most of the weighty stuff behind but gets plenty of good enough actors to give the timbre in the scenes.
Bin Won plays a former secret agent who left the service when his wife, pregnant with a girl, is killed in retaliation for one of his assignments. Won responds by becoming a ghost. He runs a pawn shop. He lives in the back of the shop and touches no one.
His clientele are junkies and thieves. One drug addict hooker has a little girl. Won has a safe affection for the little girl but keeps her at arms length. He barks at her and bullies her. She fills his iPod with music, for a fee and pawns her mothers things for drug money.
One day the mother gets involved in a drug heist. She is way over her head as the owners of the drugs want them back. She sticks the drugs in a camera case and has her daughter pawn the case to keep them safe.
After the gangsters show up to get the drugs this becomes a rip roaring action tale and its awesome, never letting the message get in the way of some terrific and terrifying fights. The message is pretty simple: The world is a terrible place and it is up to all of us to look after each other, especially for the strong to protect the weak.
The other rip=off movie that rates highly with me is Ching-Po Wong’s :Revenge: A Love Story”. Not surprisingly the title also describes the plot.
The movie starts with Juno Mak murdering women, pregnant women in the vilest most inhumane fashion possible. He slashes the women open and rips the near term fetuses from their bodies. He Pirate Pattern by Pirate Boy

Click images for desktop size: “Pirate Pattern” by Pirate Boy
then throws the fetuses into the river.
The murders are brutal and excruciating. We soon discover that the dead women’s husbands are all cops, not only cops but cops on the same team. And just when we’re about to settle in for a good ol’ serial killer type film there’s a shift. The cops catch Mak and after brutally torturing him we see, in flashback, the reason for these heinous crimes.
What we see is unexpected, terrifying and tear inducing. There’s no way to prepare for the reality of the situation presented here other than it’s more than just tragic. Its presented in a totally believable way and is guaranteed to score the soul.
A few American reviewers have trashed the movie as being pretentious, a B action movie with A movie aspirations. I say, so what?
It separates itself into sections introduced by Bhuddist koans. I think this makes some uncomfortable and needing to write the whole thing off.
It explores evil at his most common denominator. And it does so with a grim purpose to force us to have an understanding of humanity and with all understanding comes a dark price: Forgiveness.