tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-91531272387896435042024-03-13T23:32:15.688-05:00Musing Myself To Death"By the time your life is finished, you will have learned just enough to begin it well."
* Eleanor Marx
(01/16/1855–03/31/1898)
Writer & PhilanthropistDennishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01779315037469105059noreply@blogger.comBlogger95125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9153127238789643504.post-11062459666795465442008-11-05T17:16:00.005-06:002008-11-05T17:22:20.413-06:00Yes, We Did<div style="text-align: center;">Coming soon to a country near you...<br /></div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbNs5VWyA_mX59gD8BB9QcTbhgdgMecW2KkzeEA_IjDtJOk587Q3RLY_gJaKGWhG6VioTKJ50kwv9AIdQ3l4D4VMJD-SB42ZIPQLgRpGDDrdW1EvS18bGS3STZmIyZRVct1TM39zIaubs/s1600-h/Obama-Progress.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbNs5VWyA_mX59gD8BB9QcTbhgdgMecW2KkzeEA_IjDtJOk587Q3RLY_gJaKGWhG6VioTKJ50kwv9AIdQ3l4D4VMJD-SB42ZIPQLgRpGDDrdW1EvS18bGS3STZmIyZRVct1TM39zIaubs/s400/Obama-Progress.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5265317353650284370" border="0" /></a><br /><div style="text-align: center;">Tuesday, January 20th, 2009<br /></div>Dennishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01779315037469105059noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9153127238789643504.post-53484490831760215382008-11-04T00:02:00.002-06:002008-11-04T00:05:07.209-06:00Your Civic Responsibility<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9w61d3w0rzMmJT4rFjv9GKL0v9nNTVlPEKoXm7WRbB_zy6A8tS8hg-IEiv1gp8vkaAnMleP_RHO7DUCFgFY6b9p5tSseHviys7QfLQyVFTszwyaGzn8Y5-so4VqOrYBJw_Oj2C3gepMY/s1600-h/Vote_Sign.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 398px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9w61d3w0rzMmJT4rFjv9GKL0v9nNTVlPEKoXm7WRbB_zy6A8tS8hg-IEiv1gp8vkaAnMleP_RHO7DUCFgFY6b9p5tSseHviys7QfLQyVFTszwyaGzn8Y5-so4VqOrYBJw_Oj2C3gepMY/s400/Vote_Sign.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5264679109443787602" border="0" /></a><br /><div style="text-align: center;">Just do it.<br /><br />Today.<br /><br />No excuses.<br /></div>Dennishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01779315037469105059noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9153127238789643504.post-71823065045981758802008-10-15T10:35:00.045-05:002008-10-15T17:30:55.035-05:00On Poverty: Invisible Men (Blog Action Day 2008)<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAyWzT_HGBIH3zVdJ0g6lclUx3c_slr4kNGSuyZ4fv1oP7PkOlY_c7CMAQqzphs9ZFHdujkF3ID_674S5pJGkbLo6AWtAaOQOtHemlJ2KJHhoCXYhgN7K27U6Nen1BSPE2d-U3RoTxWUQ/s1600-h/Invisible-Man-In-Suit-And-Tie.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAyWzT_HGBIH3zVdJ0g6lclUx3c_slr4kNGSuyZ4fv1oP7PkOlY_c7CMAQqzphs9ZFHdujkF3ID_674S5pJGkbLo6AWtAaOQOtHemlJ2KJHhoCXYhgN7K27U6Nen1BSPE2d-U3RoTxWUQ/s200/Invisible-Man-In-Suit-And-Tie.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5257465023390880578" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-style: italic;">In response to this year's</span><a style="font-style: italic;" href="http://blogactionday.org/"> </a><a href="http://blogactionday.org/">Blog Action Day 2008's</a><span style="font-style: italic;"> serendipitously appropriate </span><span style="font-weight: bold;">Poverty</span> <span style="font-style: italic;">theme...</span></span><br /><br />Poverty effects us all at some point in time, and on some level, in our lives, undetected or not.<br /><br />We can deny it, make it invisible, hide from it, but it is a constant companion; poverty is a human condition.<br /><br />It also comes in many shapes, sizes and forms both literal and figurative.<br /><br />It may even oppose its most commonly inferred definition at times.<br /><br />Indeed, poverty is not necessarily a <span style="font-style: italic;">financial</span> compromise. But, more often than not, it has its obvious and intuitive connections.<br /><br />Hardly rare is the <span style="font-style: italic;">hand-in-hand-out</span> nature of income hardships and psychological anguish. Their paths often cross punitively ... even amongst the privileged and most <span style="font-style: italic;">well-to-do</span>. Current economic conditions enforce this reality as our cable news <span style="font-style: italic;">screen crawl headlines</span> remind us of violence towards individuals, and those near-and-dear to them, as they struggle up the careerist chain of command.<br /><br />We are all in this moment.<br /><br />Together.<br /><br />Inextricably.<br /><br />Now, I admit to being personally "impoverished" of late.<br /><br />I am lacking in a resource called <span style="font-style: italic;">Time</span>.<br /><br />I frequently find myself unable to write the lengthy blog posts I used to indulge. Thus, I need the occasional aid of others to help fill in for me (similar to when comic strip creator <a href="http://www.familycircus.com/">Bil Keane</a> "goes on vacation" and has <span style="font-style: italic;">Jeffy</span> fill in for him... only someone might end up dead in this case...).<br /><br />Witness below, a sort of "<span style="font-style: italic;">Suicide Note From The Soul</span>" taken from an <span style="font-style: italic;">(*)</span> anonymous chatroom board posting.<br /><br />Found herein, a bit of insight, summing up at times crassly but sincerely, the 'poverty of the soul' many of us can succumb to as we get overwhelmed with the '<span style="font-style: italic;">modern day drudgery'</span> of <span style="font-style: italic;">work-life balance</span> and its complications.<br /><br />It is a periscope, a rant and an alarm, from one person's personal experience with their particular brand of poverty (I am guessing the author a male nearing his mid-life years - appropo as a modern day <span style="font-style: italic;">Jacob Marley</span>, from one's future "passed" to another future's potential).<br /><br />Despite its explicit nature, and purposefully politically incorrect tone, there are, indeed, some damningly insightful truths here. If you are unsympathetic or disagree with the sentiment the charges should still not ring hollow; most will relate to it as an expression of frustration with hypocrisy resulting in the questioner's despair.<br /><br />It is not completely without hope...<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">(* Aside from a few spelling and grammatical corrections I have left the original content of the note in its intended format.)</span><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;">~~*~~<br /></div><h2><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-style: italic;">Subject</span>: Just my thoughts about life, and yes, I am tired of it...</span></h2>What is life?<br /><br />Why are we here?<br /><br />When we are young we wake up every morning to go to school so we can gain knowledge to go to a better school. Then we stress out and study day in and day out so we can get accepted to college, so we can study a subject that 70% of us won’t even use the day after we graduate. Yet we still go to college and we study so hard, trying our best to get the highest grade we can so we can get a job, so we can start learning everything we can in order to be able to work in a corporation.<br /><br />Then we start to advance, slowly, but we advance, with 3-6% increases in our yearly salary, waking up every morning so we can go to a job that we don’t like, and go on retreats that do not benefit us and that we dread, taking tests that qualify us to do more and not get paid as much as we should for it.<br /><br />Why are we here?<br /><br />Are we here so we can go through the daily routine of this dreadful, anxiety filled excuse for a life, so we can buy a house and stress about being able to pay the mortgage?<br /><br />Are we here so other people can tell us what to do?<br /><br />I mean no matter what position you have in a company, you will always have a supervisor, unless of course you own the company, but even then you probably have to report back to the people who lent you the money so you can open your own company. What you thought would be the beginning of a great thing, that you will actually have time for yourself and your family has now turned you into someone you never wanted to be. You are now the person that looks at the bottom line every day, the person that you hated when you were working for someone else, that is you now.<br /><br />You now start to understand the decisions that your supervisors made because you have to make them yourself, and your employees feel about you the same way <span style="font-style: italic;">you</span> felt about your employees.<br /><br />Now this situation is for the lucky ones who actually get to do what they like, everyone else is either stuck at a job which, if it is not a dead end now, it will lead to one eventually.<br /><br />Most people don’t even like what they do, so why do they do it?<br /><br />We live in a society that dictates that you have to have a job, and it doesn’t matter if you like it or not, you must keep it because everything costs money these days, and one cannot be <span style="font-style: italic;">self sufficient</span> anymore.<br /><br />So let’s start from the beginning and see what happens:<br /><br />You are born, your parents hope to raise you well so you can go to school and get good grades for the next 12 years, after which they push you to go to a good 4 year college and get a degree, one that will probably end up being useless to you because after you stress yourself and study until your brain can no longer work, you graduate and get a job. When you start this job you will go on an orientation, which is in simple terms, more learning, studying and testing. After this is all said and done you start to learn everything relevant to your position, which involves more late night cramming. You then need to work your ass off so you don’t have to be called into your bosses office, since if you do, it means that you are not doing your job and you might get fired, something that you don’t want to happen even though you hate your job and you can’t wait for the day that the place burns down.<br /><br />Now you are in a rut, a routine that you hate which is broken every once in a while by a company retreat or a promotion, one that makes you oh-so-very happy because with this promotion you get a 5% raise in your salary, but you also get a 30% raise in your work load, but hey, you are getting an extra 2-4k a year now, so what the hell.<br /><br />Now somewhere along the line you will meet someone, if you are lucky, you love each other, if not, you just have kids together, either way, there are kids involved, which brings us to another rut.<br /><br />Now every day when you get home from your daily grind you spend your time at home, running the kids around, making your spouse feel good about her self, pushing your kids to get good grades so they can get into a good college, so they can get a good job, so they can lead a life, well, like the one you hate right now.<br /><br />So far, am I on the right track?<br /><br />Well, all of what I am writing right now is based on years of observing, listening, and experiencing this exact same thing.<br /><br />Is this what we all wanted?<br /><br />Is this what we dreamed of when we were kids?<br /><br />What ever happened to those dreams we all had?<br /><br />Why don’t people do something to change their lives around?<br /><br />I don’t know why, and I honestly stopped caring a long time ago.<br /><br />I have given up on mankind, plain and simple.<br /><br />We are living in a world that those who have nothing will stay with nothing, those who have too much will always have too much, and those who are in the middle, well, if they are lucky they will stay in the middle, but that is not a guarantee.<br /><br />We live in a world that you cannot confront anyone anymore because if you do you will either get sued, get fired, or get the lovely “American smile” which is the basic “oh no problem, I am so sorry, I will work on it” and then they turn around and talk shit about you.<br /><br />Another thing that can happen is that if you voice your own opinion people will just hate you.<br />People don’t like to think that someone thinks different than they do, so when someone like that comes along, they usually shun them away and make them feel like shit.<br /><br />There is also the sensitivity issue, in which case a person is too sensitive to hear the truth, and all they do is fuck shit up all day long, and when you try to explain to them nicely, they ignore you, and when you tell it to them like it is, suddenly, they are a victim of verbal abuse. And there is usually some idiot who will always come to their help, which enables them to keep acting the way they do and never change.<br /><br />I am sorry, but what ever happened to the days that when someone did something stupid you could just tell them that they are fucking up and get it over with?<br /><br />Since when did society become so sensitive?<br /><br />WHY THE FUCK CAN'T PEOPLE TAKE THE TRUTH ANYMORE!?<br /><br />We are living in a society that requires you to walk on egg shells, a society that frowns upon people being who they really are because, god forbid (and yes I said <span style="font-style: italic;">god</span> (<span style="font-style: italic;">little "g"...</span>) and if you have a problem with that then you can fuck off) you are different from everyone else, and that you might have an idea that doesn’t conform to what we usually do.<br /><br />Why do I have to be nice to people that are assholes to me!?<br /><br />Why do I have to be a different person around people I don’t know?<br /><br />Is it because we don’t know each other?<br /><br />Well, what if we get to know each other and the real me comes out and they can’t handle it?<br /><br />Would it not have been better to be myself right off the start?<br /><br />At least they would have known who I really am and not wasted their time with me.<br /><br />Why is it that every time someone tells somebody what they think right to their face, that they are the bad guy, but when they tell them that they are doing a great job and go to the boss and rat them out suddenly they are doing a good job?<br /><br />Since when do we like liars?<br /><br />It is complete and utter bullshit that people cannot handle the truth.<br /><br />I tell everyone that I meet, if it is at work, school or anywhere else, if I do something to piss you off, tell me, I can’t read your mind, and if you don’t tell me I will probably just keep doing it.<br />I also tell them that I will do the same to them, and they are happy when I tell them that, but when I fuck up they go behind my back and talk to everyone else about it, and when I tell them they are fucking up, well, now I become an asshole.<br /><br />I respect everyone, but when you disrespect me, it doesn’t matter if you are a man or a woman, I will disrespect you right back.<br /><br />For instance, I worked at a restaurant, the owner's wife (at the time I didn’t know who she was, not that it mattered) had asked me to help her throw away a tree that was dead. After looking at the tree, which was green, and far far far far far far far far far away from being dead as possible, I mentioned to her that the tree was not dead. We then proceeded to talk about the tree being dead or alive, and I finished it off by saying, “Look, I work here, I will do what I am told, but the tree is not dead.”<br /><br />Well, the following day the GM (<span style="font-style: italic;">General Manager</span>) approached me and told me that the subject had come up that I had treated her without too much respect because she was a woman. After hearing this I had thought in my head, “No, I treated her without respect because she was an <span style="font-style: italic;">idiot</span>, being a woman had nothing to do with it, and for comedic purposes, completely coincidental.” (and yes I actually think like that).<br /><br />Keep in mind that out of the 6-7 weeks that I actually worked at this place, almost every morning was spent with the GM outside talking about things that went wrong (by talking I actually mean lectures of how I am fucking up, surprisingly enough it was something different every time).<br /><br />About a week after the tree incident the GM took me outside and told me he had to let me go, at which point I told him that if he hadn’t done this today, a week from now I would have quit anyway, and we went our separate ways.<br /><br />Now, to stick up for the GM, which he is a great guy in my eyes, he got caught in the daily crap grinder which is work. The restaurant was bought out by another company, and since he worked at this place before, he was promoted to the position. He worked day and night (literally) to do everything he could to satisfy his new owners, which took a large toll on his marriage, which I hope that he had managed to fix, since I really don’t wish him any harm what so ever, in fact, I hope that he succeeds in life, and maybe learn to breath every once in a while.<br /><br />Moving on…<br /><br />People today have this amazing trait, and I have noticed this with several people, they would meet someone, no matter who it is or where they met them, but they will take their business card, promising that they will call them and do business with them, and never call back.<br /><br />Now I understand if you meet someone and it is just for the night, hell, we all did that. We are out at a bar, or sitting around drinking coffee, whatever it is that we are doing, we meet someone, conversation comes up, and you talk to them, it is more of a selfish thing since all we really want to do is pass the time. This is completely fine, and again, we all do this.<br /><br />But my question is why do people feel the need to lie to other people and promise them that they will call them. People, this is a spur of the moment thing, you do not have to feel obligated to call this person just because he is as selfish as you are trying to pass the time until they need to go do something else.<br /><br />Look, just do what I do, talk to them, be nice, more important, be yourself, and when it is all said and done, get up, say good bye, and leave. No commitments, no empty promises.<br /><br />Now there have been occasions where I have met someone incredibly interesting that I thought could benefit me as a person, professionally or socially, in which case we did exchange cards and we did keep in touch.<br /><br />But for the average day to day meeting of new people for the hell of it, it doesn’t matter.<br /><br />I think that the one thing people hate the most is being disrespected, and being lied to is a form of that, so this is where the whole “do onto others…” thing that our parents taught us when we were kids comes into play.<br /><br />As far as life goes, I used to hope that people actually try to do something about what they didn’t like in their lives and enhance what they liked. But today, I think I am starting to realize that people would rather be safe then happy.<br /><br />Most people would rather live their lives in the rut, doing the same things day in and day out, hating every minute of it, just because they know what will happen next.<br /><br />People are scared to do what they like, or think they like, because it is not what they are used to.<br /><br />They are not used to feeling content with themselves, and such a feeling of happiness is something that they fear, because it is different then what they are used too.<br /><br />The fact that people do what they do for a crappy paycheck is pathetic, since they can do something they like for the same amount of money.<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Actors</span> say that life is a stage for us to perform on every day, and no matter what happens, the curtains will still go up tomorrow.<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Artists</span> say that the world is a canvas, and that we all paint our own picture.<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Philosophers</span> say that this is the only life we have, so might as well make the most of it.<br /><br />Not many people get better lives out this type of advise, but for those select few, I am sure their lives are truly amazing, as for everyone else, I think the least they should do is try, because if they don’t, well, their lives just suck.<br /><br />And if you ever wanted a catchy <span style="font-style: italic;">chick-flick-type</span> quote from me, well, "the clock never stops ticking, so you might as well enjoy the second you’re in now, because the next one is completely different".<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">See what I mean</span>?<br /><br />Pass this whole message on to anyone you know, don’t be afraid. And if it effects anyone, I mean even one person, at least I know that my life was not for nothing other than the daily grind.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;">~~*~~<br /><br /><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;">We are all poorer because one of us is impoverished somehow.</span><br /><br /><script src="http://blogactionday.org/js/7dd3d07f7de6874d394653f76c02c72b7e6b65aa"></script><a href="http://blogactionday.org/"><img src="http://blogactionday.org/img/7dd3d07f7de6874d394653f76c02c72b7e6b65aa.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /></div></div>Dennishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01779315037469105059noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9153127238789643504.post-88973587280560213952008-10-12T02:23:00.006-05:002008-10-12T02:27:13.896-05:00Exactly What Is A Post Turtle?<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVVoWfKF4oUH8UhpGzVB_RDPeE4dgSvxykATkdII8sjpSKGpYSgFdQmWXCmEQV-I5gI7I8_lG9M67HRKBwUAslNBB1JNJV2RKQ6eZoKo7sr_rOGa1w6Pn0Y8rpD63XT8q16p039dp2EcE/s1600-h/post_turtle.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVVoWfKF4oUH8UhpGzVB_RDPeE4dgSvxykATkdII8sjpSKGpYSgFdQmWXCmEQV-I5gI7I8_lG9M67HRKBwUAslNBB1JNJV2RKQ6eZoKo7sr_rOGa1w6Pn0Y8rpD63XT8q16p039dp2EcE/s200/post_turtle.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5256164808924861074" border="0" /></a>While suturing a cut on the hand of a 75-year old Texas rancher whose hand was caught in a gate while working cattle, the doctor struck up a conversation with the old man.<br /><br />Eventually the topic got around to Sarah Palin and her bid to be a heartbeat away from being President.<br /><br />The old rancher said, 'Well, ya know, Palin is a post turtle.'<br />Not being familiar with the term, the doctor asked him what a post<br />turtle was.<br /><br />The old rancher said, 'When you're driving down a country road and<br />you come across a fence post with a turtle balanced on top, that's a post turtle.'<br /><br />The old rancher saw a puzzled look on the doctor's face, so he<br />continued to explain. 'You know she didn't get up there by herself,<br />she doesn't belong up there, she doesn't know what to do while she is<br />up there, and you just wonder what kind of <span style="font-style: italic;">dumbass</span> put her up there<br />to begin with.'<br /><br /> <table> <tbody><tr> <td><br /></td> <td><br /></td> </tr> <tr> <td><br /></td> <td><br /></td> </tr> </tbody></table>Dennishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01779315037469105059noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9153127238789643504.post-27873517585901512582008-10-09T16:54:00.004-05:002017-04-03T22:12:04.804-05:00<br />
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Dennishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01779315037469105059noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9153127238789643504.post-87624102756160016712008-10-08T13:01:00.003-05:002008-10-08T13:10:27.304-05:00Financial "Fail-Out" Plan<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhOz3FkuvdolJX5ftmQJ52MQhhciOzhvnvbnGU-GSHjOZcdm9HHMhb2nvns6p6bKFYp8ZyO8bftj_RpJm23Nhj8eUkKe34UIQWSqhEZ39flzNRvESI1oHvKF-GxA577pK8YB0zRlZ3Mf0/s1600-h/1929_depression_crash.gif"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhOz3FkuvdolJX5ftmQJ52MQhhciOzhvnvbnGU-GSHjOZcdm9HHMhb2nvns6p6bKFYp8ZyO8bftj_RpJm23Nhj8eUkKe34UIQWSqhEZ39flzNRvESI1oHvKF-GxA577pK8YB0zRlZ3Mf0/s200/1929_depression_crash.gif" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5254846467567189442" border="0" /></a>The following a letter from activist Michael Moore on the what's about to become the largest robbery in American history...<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;">~~*~~<br /></div><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Friends,</span><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Let me cut to the chase. The biggest robbery in the history of this country is taking place as you read this. Though no guns are being used, 300 million hostages are being taken. Make no mistake about it: After stealing a half trillion dollars to line the pockets of their war-profiteering backers for the past five years, after lining the pockets of their fellow oilmen to the tune of over a hundred billion dollars in just the last two years, Bush and his cronies -- who must soon vacate the White House -- are looting the U.S. Treasury of every dollar they can grab. They are swiping as much of the silverware as they can on their way out the door.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">No matter what they say, no matter how many scare words they use, they are up to their old tricks of creating fear and confusion in order to make and keep themselves and the upper one percent filthy rich. Just read the first four paragraphs of the lead story in last Monday's New York Times and you can see what the real deal is:</span><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">"Even as policy makers worked on details of a $700 billion bailout of the financial industry, Wall Street began looking for ways to profit from it.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;"> "Financial firms were lobbying to have all manner of troubled investments covered, not just those related to mortgages.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">"At the same time, investment firms were jockeying to oversee all the assets that Treasury plans to take off the books of financial institutions, a role that could earn them hundreds of millions of dollars a year in fees.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;"> "Nobody wants to be left out of Treasury's proposal to buy up bad assets of financial institutions." </span><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Unbelievable. Wall Street and its backers created this mess and now they are going to clean up like bandits. Even Rudy Giuliani is lobbying for his firm to be hired (and paid) to "consult" in the bailout.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">The problem is, nobody truly knows what this "collapse" is all about. Even Treasury Secretary Paulson admitted he doesn't know the exact amount that is needed (he just picked the $700 billion number out of his head!). The head of the congressional budget office said he can't figure it out nor can he explain it to anyone.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">And yet, they are screeching about how the end is near! Panic! Recession! The Great Depression! Y2K! Bird flu! Killer bees! We must pass the bailout bill today!! The sky is falling! The sky is falling!</span><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Falling for whom? NOTHING in this "bailout" package will lower the price of the gas you have to put in your car to get to work. NOTHING in this bill will protect you from losing your home. NOTHING in this bill will give you health insurance.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Health insurance? Mike, why are you bringing this up? What's this got to do with the Wall Street collapse?</span><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">It has everything to do with it. This so-called "collapse" was triggered by the massive defaulting and foreclosures going on with people's home mortgages. Do you know why so many Americans are losing their homes? To hear the Republicans describe it, it's because too many working class idiots were given mortgages that they really couldn't afford. Here's the truth: The number one cause of people declaring bankruptcy is because of medical bills. Let me state this simply: If we had had universal health coverage, this mortgage "crisis" may never have happened.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">This bailout's mission is to protect the obscene amount of wealth that has been accumulated in the last eight years. It's to protect the top shareholders who own and control corporate America. It's to make sure their yachts and mansions and "way of life" go uninterrupted while the rest of America suffers and struggles to pay the bills. Let the rich suffer for once. Let them pay for the bailout. We are spending 400 million dollars a day on the war in Iraq. Let them end the war immediately and save us all another half-trillion dollars!</span><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">I have to stop writing this and you have to stop reading it. They are staging a financial coup this morning in our country. They are hoping Congress will act fast before they stop to think, before we have a chance to stop them ourselves. So stop reading this and do something -- NOW! Here's what you can do immediately:</span><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">1. Call or e-mail Senator Obama. Tell him he does not need to be sitting there trying to help prop up Bush and Cheney and the mess they've made. Tell him we know he has the smarts to slow this thing down and figure out what's the best route to take. Tell him the rich have to pay for whatever help is offered. Use the leverage we have now to insist on a moratorium on home foreclosures, to insist on a move to universal health coverage, and tell him that we the people need to be in charge of the economic decisions that affect our lives, not the barons of Wall Street.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">2. Take to the streets. Participate in one of the hundreds of quickly-called demonstrations that are taking place all over the country (especially those near Wall Street and DC).</span><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">3. Call your Representative in Congress and your Senators. (click here to find their phone numbers). Tell them what you told Senator Obama.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">When you screw up in life, there is hell to pay. Each and every one of you reading this knows that basic lesson and has paid the consequences of your actions at some point. In this great democracy, we cannot let there be one set of rules for the vast majority of hard-working citizens, and another set of rules for the elite, who, when they screw up, are handed one more gift on a silver platter. No more! Not again!</span><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Yours,</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Michael Moore</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">MMFlint@aol.com</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">MichaelMoore.com</span><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">P.S. Having read further the details of this bailout bill, you need to know you are being lied to. They talk about how they will prevent golden parachutes. It says NOTHING about what these executives and fat cats will make in SALARY. According to Rep. Brad Sherman of California, these top managers will continue to receive million-dollar-a-month paychecks under this new bill. There is no direct ownership given to the American people for the money being handed over. Foreign banks and investors will be allowed to receive billion-dollar handouts. A large chunk of this $700 billion is going to be given directly to Chinese and Middle Eastern banks. There is NO guarantee of ever seeing that money again.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">P.P.S. From talking to people I know in DC, they say the reason so many Dems are behind this is because Wall Street this weekend put a gun to their heads and said either turn over the $700 billion or the first thing we'll start blowing up are the pension funds and 401(k)s of your middle class constituents. The Dems are scared they may make good on their threat. But this is not the time to back down or act like the typical Democrat we have witnessed for the last eight years. The Dems handed a stolen election over to Bush. The Dems gave Bush the votes he needed to invade a sovereign country. Once they took over Congress in 2007, they refused to pull the plug on the war. And now they have been cowered into being accomplices in the crime of the century. You have to call them now and say "NO!" If we let them do this, just imagine how hard it will be to get anything good done when President Obama is in the White House. THESE DEMOCRATS ARE ONLY AS STRONG AS THE BACKBONE WE GIVE THEM. CALL CONGRESS NOW. </span><table> <tbody><tr> <td style="font-style: italic;"><br /></td> <td><br /></td> </tr> <tr> <td><br /></td> <td><br /></td> </tr> </tbody></table>Dennishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01779315037469105059noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9153127238789643504.post-54910126669103701002008-10-08T12:59:00.002-05:002008-10-08T13:00:15.799-05:00Scare Bear Market<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrOWHjChSsruTQfFuBhZHTMFKoq6G-rgbH1UxyLSp-1gjMLHymDgk7C5VhAb1XIZvAJq1fBfKXw9TEGu6M4S2ZSbcx9r9HyqW421n-uXEz0aD4-LOu9dEGXYvoGKDMo4HChPCgqXqHfRI/s1600-h/Scare_Bear.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrOWHjChSsruTQfFuBhZHTMFKoq6G-rgbH1UxyLSp-1gjMLHymDgk7C5VhAb1XIZvAJq1fBfKXw9TEGu6M4S2ZSbcx9r9HyqW421n-uXEz0aD4-LOu9dEGXYvoGKDMo4HChPCgqXqHfRI/s200/Scare_Bear.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5254844265287585842" border="0" /></a><br />Hey, everybody!<br /><br />Look!<br /><br />It's your children's financial future...!Dennishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01779315037469105059noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9153127238789643504.post-1801826604653667222008-10-07T13:36:00.005-05:002008-10-07T13:44:47.591-05:00What We Meant To Say Was...<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrm6geBHzfRMo2fDl9pxrlnfxqcjSma5iY4c898WPdBItuS-dwguGey3IS970XoI4g1uc0qCHWj0wOFVoWvPwtdUtEvG-N82aAPC0XHhj7R63C-U60BeHotRK50GXvwQX3HnB1Ge_Jqls/s1600-h/CNN_Gaff_Headline.png"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrm6geBHzfRMo2fDl9pxrlnfxqcjSma5iY4c898WPdBItuS-dwguGey3IS970XoI4g1uc0qCHWj0wOFVoWvPwtdUtEvG-N82aAPC0XHhj7R63C-U60BeHotRK50GXvwQX3HnB1Ge_Jqls/s400/CNN_Gaff_Headline.png" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5254482838361389026" border="0" /></a>Well, yeah, somebody sure as hell is going to "come" this economic crisis. Namely the douche-nozzle profiteers who got us all there in the first place.<br /><br />Please never, EVER tell me there's not enough money for social programs or national infrastructure for this country EVER again.<br /><br />Thanks.<br /><br />Nice going, Last-Eight-Years-of-Hypocrisy.<br /><br />November 4th couldn't get here fast enough (he says confidently that the American public will finally come to it's senses...).Dennishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01779315037469105059noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9153127238789643504.post-32298455371691330452008-10-06T13:28:00.014-05:002008-10-12T02:07:16.917-05:00The End Is Ne'er<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhI18UA8W_xid0r4arSG_lRnUW-hHbc5zJUJJRF3zDJVipto_EKu7I99Ctrq7WlmS17U4fqss95SJ_JaDMwdf1PuchLVO5HtsuL_s3DDKhAZmhoTufXb4jh7gVyBZVOs4-9pvAaSfWsLJc/s1600-h/jesus-with-rifle.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhI18UA8W_xid0r4arSG_lRnUW-hHbc5zJUJJRF3zDJVipto_EKu7I99Ctrq7WlmS17U4fqss95SJ_JaDMwdf1PuchLVO5HtsuL_s3DDKhAZmhoTufXb4jh7gVyBZVOs4-9pvAaSfWsLJc/s200/jesus-with-rifle.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5254110493827190274" border="0" /></a>The great irony of posting this latest "fun with numerology prophesy" circulating (circulatin'!) the <span style="font-style: italic;">Christian</span> <span style="font-style: italic;">internet</span> <span style="font-style: italic;">sites</span> is that half of you might take this quite seriously ... while the other half will get a good chuckle out if it (albeit with a hint of wide-eyed fear as you're snickering away). I am of the <span style="font-style: italic;">latter</span> group (despite my Catholic upbringing), and just for the record, I intend to be quite happy in this supposed "Hell" where apparently I'll be hanging out with the likes of Jimmy Hendrix and Kurt Vonnegut...<br /><br />(Should "<span style="font-style: italic;">The Number 44 Prophecy</span>" come true please add "Rush Postage" to my delivery, by the way.)<br /><br />On the other hand, if Barack Obama and Joseph Biden (you know, that <span style="font-style: italic;">other</span> V.P...) is elected this November does that mean that people who come up with this kind of voodoo will <span style="font-style: italic;">finally</span> just ... go away??<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;">~~*~~<br /></div><br /><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;">The Number 44 Prophesy on McCain/Palin</span><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Peg and I have just returned from our Sunday AM service. As you know we have been involved in 90 days of Hosting the Lord’s Presence, and it’s been</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">powerful in a personal way. We knew there had been lots of warfare because</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">when we got home, we were tired and needed a nap. The Sunday AM celebrations</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">have been just worship with some intercessory prayer, but no preaching or</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">teaching. This morning after an extended time of worship, Dutch Sheets, our</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">pastor, shared an exhortation, as he called it. During this, Peg and I both</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">were about to explode in our spirits.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">I believe you are aware that Dutch was used by the Lord to call prayer</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">before the 2000 Bush election that was so close. He said this morning that</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">this election is perhaps even more critical than 2000 because of the Supreme</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Court. If the right political posture is not elected, we stand to lose</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">decades of progress and the repercussions are enormous. Last year, Chuck</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Pierce and Greg Hood (both prophets) prophesied that in 2008, we are not</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">electing a president but the vice president. Dutch said he could get no</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">release in his heart to back Huckaby even though pressured by many in the</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">body of Christ. Huckaby is a good man and a strong believer, but he was not</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">God’s choice. Dutch also told us that he knows a man who gave McCain a</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">prophetic word that McCain had made a vow to God when he was at the bottom</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">during his POW days, and now God was calling in that vow. McCain was visibly</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">moved by this word.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Dutch was traveling to Texas on Friday and when he landed in the airport,</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">his wife called and told him to get to the TV asap. He watched McCain</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">introduce Governor Palin and said he began to weep, even though he knew</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">nothing about her. (I experienced the very same thing, and we have had</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">reports of many others including Newt Gingrich.-RS. I experienced the same</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">thing!–cb)</span><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">(ed. - Heh! Funny, so did I! Only for a completely different reason...)</span><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">He asked what the significance of this 44-year-old woman was and</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">he saw the clock said 4:44. He asked the Lord what that was and the Lord</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">said, “Ezekiel 44:4.” “He brought me by way of the north gate to the front</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">of the temple; so I looked, and behold, the glory of the LORD filled the</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">house of the LORD; and I fell on my face.” (NKJV) Note: North gate</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">represents Alaska.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">A few years ago Dutch and Chuck Pierce went on a 50-state tour prophesying</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">over each state as their part in God’s purposes for the U.S. At the meeting</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">in Texas that evening Dutch was relaying his experience about the Governor</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">to Chuck who said, “Do you remember what the word was the Lord gave us for</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Alaska?” The Lord had shown them that Alaska is the alpha and omega state.</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">It’s the place where things begin and end. You may realize that some of the</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Alaskan islands are on the other side of the International Dateline, meaning</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">that the day begins and ends in Alaska. The Lord said that Alaska is a</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">gateway for the Ancient of Days to come into the nation. The Lord told Dutch</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">(while in Alaska) to tell the people of Alaska to look forward into their</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">destiny… Alaska has an assignment to open doors and a place where prophets</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">and intercessors were trained. It turns out that the Governor who was raised</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">in a Pentecostal Church, according to our newspaper, founded the prayer</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">movement in Alaska.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">We will be having the last of our 90 days in a major gathering on September</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">11. The significance of this is that Chuck Pierce had prophesied that there</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">would be 7 years of war, and September 11 marks the end of that time and the</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">entering of the 8th year. Someone said that 44 = 4+4 or 8.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Dutch asked why he and Chuck were in Texas for this announcement and the</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Lord reminded him that the word for Texas was that it is a prophetic state -</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">that the Lord’s purpose for Texas is this prophetic function.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Dutch then decreed Sarah Palin will enter the White House. Now, if you don’t</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">know him, he is cautious, has his feet on the ground, and never goes off</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">“half cocked” when it comes to prophecy. He said that he believes as of</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Friday, the U.S. has come into a new level of alignment with the Lord and</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">His purposes. By the way, the Governor will be the 44th Vice President. He</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">continued to declare that she will be the Margaret Thatcher of America</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">including that she would be President one day. Many other things came forth.</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">I literally thought I would explode because the Lord had shown me many of</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">these same things yesterday.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">I believe we especially need to rally prayer for the family and children of</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">the Governor. They will be targeted by the enemy, and I believe we need</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">special prayer for the oldest daughter.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Please take this seriously in your prayers</span><br /></div><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;">~~*~~<br /><br /><div style="text-align: left;">Enjoy your "last days", good citizens of planet Mirth; our number just may be up...<br /><br />(<span style="font-style: italic;">Postscript</span>: Just to add fuel to the fires of hell - according to a recent CNN poll - <span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;">44%</span> of Americans believe Sarah Palin would make a good president... I kid you not.)<br /></div></div>Dennishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01779315037469105059noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9153127238789643504.post-78347562525156372642008-09-30T19:12:00.013-05:002008-10-01T18:59:35.001-05:00A Quote From Ronald Reagan...<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidG8fzh_2P5CU7u5p7PoRXWe4ZtpAKAQ79_pim-1ee64CIzU0I-dCQQeXV64vHVyA-4_UD92htSZC4qjGbxE6HL3NeW75qLLnuFQIrlZ1apUyI5_9gSNA-R3hvFRmqoJHft6RDuDPiMHI/s1600-h/Reagan_With_George_W_Bush.jpeg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidG8fzh_2P5CU7u5p7PoRXWe4ZtpAKAQ79_pim-1ee64CIzU0I-dCQQeXV64vHVyA-4_UD92htSZC4qjGbxE6HL3NeW75qLLnuFQIrlZ1apUyI5_9gSNA-R3hvFRmqoJHft6RDuDPiMHI/s320/Reagan_With_George_W_Bush.jpeg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5251974577417961938" border="0" /></a><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-size:16;" ><span style="font-size:85%;">"<span style="font-style: italic;">A moment I've been dreading. George brought his n'er-do-well son around this morning and asked me to find the kid a job. Not the political one who lives in Florida; the one who hangs around here all the time looking shiftless. This so-called kid is already almost 40 and has never had a real job. Maybe I'll call Kinsley over at The New Republic and see if they'll hire him as a contributing editor or something. That looks like easy work.</span>"<br /><br /></span><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-size:10;"><span style="font-size:85%;"> From the <span style="font-weight: bold;">REAGAN DIARIES</span> ------ entry dated May 17, 1986 (Edited by David Brinkley and published by Harper-Collins)</span><br /></span></span></span><br />I believe the expression "rolling in one's grave" comes to mind...Dennishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01779315037469105059noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9153127238789643504.post-36955252483529907692008-09-26T13:07:00.007-05:002008-09-26T13:17:41.920-05:00Top 10 Surprising Sarah Palin Facts<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhi-JyslsSjqaJrYYJoeuaJju-3a90Sorcc9pb7LuuwTqqjDTNHyvNCrHuv-X2ORa8JOrO_Q4UYVHy_mE-C-_LPeCZEzcFOQG4WPskv1jDJg6Di5g7lhVNzyO3K2zVgo-cDkKYUWi5TgAI/s1600-h/pitbull-barring-fangs.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhi-JyslsSjqaJrYYJoeuaJju-3a90Sorcc9pb7LuuwTqqjDTNHyvNCrHuv-X2ORa8JOrO_Q4UYVHy_mE-C-_LPeCZEzcFOQG4WPskv1jDJg6Di5g7lhVNzyO3K2zVgo-cDkKYUWi5TgAI/s200/pitbull-barring-fangs.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5250394246626996194" border="0" /></a>After John McCain snubbed David Letterman for a show appearance last Thursday night (while appearing with Katie Couric for a Q&A only a few hours later!) seems the old cuddly & curmudgeonly TV host had a little fun at the Republican ticket's expense (his guest that night, instead, was Paris Hilton who, coincidentally, had been 'snubbed' by the McCain campaign, too)...<br /><br /><strong>With Lake Lucille as the backdrop, ten residents of Wasilla, Alaska delivered David Letterman's Top Ten List:</strong><br /><blockquote><strong>TOP TEN SURPRISING FACTS ABOUT SARAH PALIN</strong><br /><br />10. Sometimes Sarah calls McCain "Grandpa"<br /><br />9. She stole that sexy librarian look from me<br /><br />8. Recently passed legislation to build a bridge to Funkytown<br /><br />7. Does great impressions of Tina Fey<br /><br />6. Favorite meal: Moose nuggets and beaver jerky<br /><br />5. Working on a "Knight Rider" spin-off about a talking snowmobile<br /><br />4. Favorite book? <em>The Late Show Fun Facts</em> -- available at fine stores everywhere<br /><br />3. Once spent a week in the hospital after attempting to put lipstick on a pit bull<br /><br />2. To improve her foreign policy experience, she recently went to the International House of Pancakes<br /><br />1. Only person I know who's not afraid to go hunting with Dick Cheney </blockquote>Dennishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01779315037469105059noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9153127238789643504.post-46458181266535591972008-09-11T17:41:00.013-05:002008-09-11T17:49:37.874-05:00Vote MikeCaine/Palin!<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOrjpOkRQKBkAg2FbiLzFZeC0D7qPQNG2If3SF-5r89W4GeVtqU2MUwvkqn6xxZbZ3nW4-AOiePmQK1selT53ctlUsn1cgBAKpMbOr84Ll-K8-qjOqvEM0wS4Ru-HLbChU9dvIL4JI01w/s1600-h/mikchael_caine.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOrjpOkRQKBkAg2FbiLzFZeC0D7qPQNG2If3SF-5r89W4GeVtqU2MUwvkqn6xxZbZ3nW4-AOiePmQK1selT53ctlUsn1cgBAKpMbOr84Ll-K8-qjOqvEM0wS4Ru-HLbChU9dvIL4JI01w/s200/mikchael_caine.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5244898762221884738" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVB7rvZqDSZRv28UMq1RfAqmn9m0ik7z3_HHSy1BP7rMkgdkFeXI9TMduv6ey791JHNfo2tAEicVgSSjsgLqb5h9Y6y1DTFtu7KAyUZtDvFRaiD1u3Z-1bkiXFdc9gyCG-9HlvPB9uHjA/s1600-h/michael_palin.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVB7rvZqDSZRv28UMq1RfAqmn9m0ik7z3_HHSy1BP7rMkgdkFeXI9TMduv6ey791JHNfo2tAEicVgSSjsgLqb5h9Y6y1DTFtu7KAyUZtDvFRaiD1u3Z-1bkiXFdc9gyCG-9HlvPB9uHjA/s200/michael_palin.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5244899036296270402" border="0" /></a>On second thought a MikeCaine/Palin ticket doesn't sound so bad after all..Dennishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01779315037469105059noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9153127238789643504.post-45976050334630468912008-09-11T17:13:00.009-05:002008-09-11T17:59:49.850-05:00Reckless!<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.amazon.com/Dont-Think-Elephant-Debate-Progressives/dp/1931498717"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizEvtSKuIwxOfTZAS8FTyIOB6I0i3EHCC1o6jaGIWDSvJR_Xdp83XBzBXonYSPXuoO-NGFw1GaL3AZHHTWFv24MPFY2E53Uh1eNUSxrfGf79S0y40v6DbX5v24p8LQ8AhD-hv3YGsxVvc/s320/Don't_think_Of_An_Elephant.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5244895495510637922" border="0" /></a>Speaking of "framing debates"...<br /><br />Isn't it strange how <span style="font-style: italic;">The Dems</span> have not seized control of their own "swift boating" tactics? And why not; politics is an ugly, ugly sport.<br /><br />Word of advice from <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Dont-Think-Elephant-Debate-Progressives/dp/1931498717">George Lakoff</a> and others amongst the <a href="http://www.chomsky.info/"><span style="font-style: italic;">Clan of Chomsky</span></a>: take control of a <span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;">word </span>to describe your opponent.<br /><br />Say it <span style="font-style: italic;">over and over again</span> until the general public has no other choice but to accept it as "reality".<br /><br />Own it!<br /><br />May I suggest:<br /><br />"<span style="font-weight: bold;">RECKLESS</span>"<br /><br />...to describe everything about McCain and his "Camp-Pain". His callous disregard of a former respectable self (one that now panders to right-wing ideology, religious Backwardism (no, <a href="http://www.colbertnation.com/home">Colbert</a>! I get credit for this one!), environmental irresponsibility, economic naivete, and the most outrageously insulting choice for a Vice-Presidential side-kick in Sarah Palin!?!<br /><br />Not even the most cynical of us would want this self described "lipsticked pitbull" so close to a 72-year-old presidential nominee.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;">Please be advised</span>: <span style="font-style: italic;">as of today there are 54 Days left before this country wields one of its most mighty privileges.</span><br /><br />Use it responsibly.<br /><br />Vote with your intellect this time and not your baser instincts.Dennishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01779315037469105059noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9153127238789643504.post-68714958749288774692008-09-11T12:30:00.013-05:002008-09-11T17:52:30.013-05:00Happy Holiday, Dick Cheney!<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2s_BFflFVXmj1TuU5sjErBela5zWhJYFg42GzwZ-aAdy8pQXdo7fG9FVXM05gleGbS5_v_5Nr3Ok6yZmPWKt_QiYcu4woa5FLgegtR-v_OhgAGq5s_IbCXI6LMp_4yCF0hpZ3hMFVylI/s1600-h/twin_towers_postcard.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2s_BFflFVXmj1TuU5sjErBela5zWhJYFg42GzwZ-aAdy8pQXdo7fG9FVXM05gleGbS5_v_5Nr3Ok6yZmPWKt_QiYcu4woa5FLgegtR-v_OhgAGq5s_IbCXI6LMp_4yCF0hpZ3hMFVylI/s320/twin_towers_postcard.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5244828363436526146" border="0" /></a>I think <a href="http://www.theonion.com/content/news/cheney_waits_until_last_minute">The Onion</a> got it spot-on in their latest issue as we "celebrate" the latest, and now, 7th Annual Parade of the Neo- Cons' pride and joy, September 11th (sincere apologies to the thousands who died unnecessarily and their families now serving as involuntary shills for modern day political cynicism).<br /><br />Witness even recently at the <a href="http://www.rnc.org/">RNC</a> the Twin Tower images <span style="font-style: italic;">still</span> serving as the word 'Fear's' double exclamation points<span style="font-size:180%;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">!!</span></span> Nice touch, Rudy; we can always count on you as the <span style="font-style: italic;">Arch-Angel of Tuneless Trumpet</span> blowing on this one.<br /><br />Ironically, so much of the Right defines their brand of 'Conservatism' as that which our most important values and lessons must hearken back to "better days" (read: until recently the 1950's (throw in most of the 19th Century while you're at it; we want to make sure African-Americans have been handily dealt with, too...) when we had the last great reasons to be afraid including the good old standby spectres of Communism and 'Nuclear War' (c) 1939), and those <span style="font-style: italic;">better days</span> have now been notoriously rechristened.<br /><br />Why has September 11th, 2001 been translating as <span style="font-style: italic;">better days</span> for so many of one particular political party? Do I <span style="font-style: italic;">really</span> need to elaborate on the tired abuse of symbolism as a form of helping frame a candidate's debate on his (or her) worthiness to lead a nation?<br /><br />Naaaah, mostly charred, building-dusted, bloodied old-hat this one.<br /><br />Better we just get our gift shopping done early, everyone; I hear there's another <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/United_States_presidential_election,_2008">attack on our sensibilities</a> brewing in November...Dennishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01779315037469105059noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9153127238789643504.post-87911804608046999932008-06-12T13:27:00.027-05:002008-11-13T14:53:02.598-06:00Seven Songs For Seven People<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvBND0_7wmQ-lkSSjl_v7MxQYgVVA8BdSHiL1Gk28yFVaOEG-s9STCtQM6Vk_0pJQZaynMXVJRAf4QdvtUjDfwh2GX91eKvGESKhpDK2BxSVpj3BjP9SvWZ9hJGa229XjrRSzn0TBdGts/s1600-h/7+Music+Notes.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvBND0_7wmQ-lkSSjl_v7MxQYgVVA8BdSHiL1Gk28yFVaOEG-s9STCtQM6Vk_0pJQZaynMXVJRAf4QdvtUjDfwh2GX91eKvGESKhpDK2BxSVpj3BjP9SvWZ9hJGa229XjrRSzn0TBdGts/s200/7+Music+Notes.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5211078584604404690" border="0" /></a>I've been '<a href="http://www.furia.com/page.cgi?type=log&id=302">tagged</a>' to post my current seven favorite songs (and forward to seven others to do the same - you know the drill) ... but, this, I'm afraid, is a nearly impossible exercise for me as I listen to far too much music on any one given day (seven degrees of several song separation-anxiety?). Alas, I never tend to linger on any one given song for longer than can be afforded, and this for good reason:<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">There's just too much out there waiting to be discovered!</span><br /><br />It's a curse, I tell you, forcing bitter irony straight into your ears.<br /><br />That said, I will give this the <a href="http://www.merriam-webster.com/dictionary/college+try">old-college-try</a> purely to see what I come up with... here are the rules first:<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">"List seven songs you are into right now. No matter what the genre, whether they have words, or even if they're not any good, but they must be songs you're really enjoying now, shaping your spring. Post these instructions in your blog along with your 7 songs. Then tag 7 other people to see what they're listening to." </span><br /><br />So, here goes (and feel free to do the same even if you haven't been <span style="font-style: italic;">tagged</span> officially):<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;">~~~~*~~~~<br /></div><br />7.) <span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">"Fistful of Rain" by Warren Zevon (from 'Life'll Kill Ya')</span> </span>- I imagine the old bard was well aware of the sickness that would soon take him when he wrote this inspirational and lovely grab-life-by-the-horns- before-it-fucks-all-this-beauty-and-poetry-up song (May you and Vonnegut be sitting together somewhere-upon-high toasting to all of this grand foolishness).<br /><br />6.) <span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">"Nothing Is Innocent" by Over The Rhine (from 'The Trumpet Child')</span> - I thought I was listening to <span style="font-style: italic;">Amy Winehouse</span> when I first heard this stunner as it's all about addiction and falling down all done in that perfect retro-bluesy chanteuse-style. Imagine my surprise. Would do a fading diva-genius proud.<br /><br />5.) <span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">"The Booklovers" by The Divine Comedy (from 'Promenade')</span> - I was introduced to this on <a href="http://wmbr.mit.edu/">WMBR 88.1 FM in Cambridge, Mass</a>. and it just rocked my literary-crashes- into-musical world. Just goes to prove reading a good book inspires great thinking and outrageously fine songwriting:<br /><pre class="lc">Happy the man, and happy he alone<br />who in all honesty can call today his own;<br />He who has life and strength enough<br />to say ’yesterday’s dead & gone<br />I want to live today’<br /></pre> 4.) <span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">TIE: "The Funeral" and "Is There A Ghost" by Band Of Horses (from 'Everything All The Time' and 'Cease To Begin' respectively)</span> </span>- I love this band (of horses...) and not because <a href="http://www.npr.org/">NPR</a> harps on them. They rock in a longing, sentimental way without being too longing and sentimental. You can actually feel cool about feeling all mushy inside.<br /><br />3.) <span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">"Rickity Tikity Tin" by Barbara Manning (from '1212')</span> - Oh, my! Doing wicked and sinister things never felt (and sounded!) so delightfully good!<br /><br />2.) <span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">"The Commander Thinks Aloud" by The Long Winters (from 'Ultimatum' EP)</span><span style="font-weight: bold;"> </span>- When it first dawned on me that this was a tuneful exploration about the space shuttle disaster it broke my heart. Such a beautifully crafted song that puts you right in the seat of catastrophe and turns your tears to vapor as you enter the atmosphere realizing all hope is lost - but wasn't it all such an amazing trip...?<br /><br />1.) <span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">"Soul Meets Body" by Death Cab For Cutie (from 'Plans') </span>- Yeah, I know, their <span style="font-weight: bold;">big</span> <span style="font-weight: bold;">hit!</span> song but you know what? This was the perfect companion for when we moved from the colder climes of the Northeast to the liberating and welcoming city of Austin. It just summed everything up so very perfectly. Love it and appreciate them for putting it to 'tape'.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;">~~~~*~~~~<br /><br /></div>Dare I include some runners-up? Sure! But, I'll keep it reeeal short:<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">"Meet The Witch" by Big Dipper (from 'Craps')</span> - We all 'knew right from the start there would be a hill', didn't we?<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">"Everybody Knows" by Blake Hazard (from 'Little Airplane')</span> - Nobody oozes sexuality and longing like the great-niece of F. Scott Fitzgerald. Love her and John D. in <span style="font-style: italic;">The Submarines</span>, too!<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">"Fix You Up" by Tegan & Sara (from 'So Jealous')</span> - I sent this catchy, uplifting little gem to someone when they were experiencing some, ahem, marital 'growing pains'. They thanked me profusely for the eye-opening pick-me-up message.<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">"Into My Arms" by Nick Cave (from 'The Boatman's Call')</span> - What can I say? This was our <span style="font-style: italic;">Couples' Dance Song</span> at our wedding. A brilliant master at his most wistful and tender. Soulful, devastating.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;">~~~~*~~~~<br /></div><br />Okay, 'nuff fer now - but thanks for the brain-tease, <a href="http://www.furia.com/page.cgi?type=log&id=302">Glenn</a>; that was an enjoyable albeit troubling jaunt (and not entirely accurate!); there's just too much great music out there...!<br /><br />(Oh, did I mention that I'm listening to <span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">Television's "See No Evil" (from 'Marquee Moon')</span> right now and totally rocking out!? <span style="font-style: italic;">ed. - Sheesh</span>...give it a rest, pal.)Dennishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01779315037469105059noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9153127238789643504.post-65167073969166979222008-05-27T01:23:00.019-05:002008-11-13T14:53:03.837-06:00Barton Creek Beast Barks!A rather large and bizarre, otter-like creature was spotted in Austin's <span style="font-style: italic;">Barton Creek Springs</span> over this last Memorial Day Weekend:<br /><span style="text-decoration: underline;"><br /></span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKUEOaTyNgIacqp73LJU6POGVA11sXxLXE_frJRpVvqoKeo_QGCYCYt2FU3RVpnG0fYS03r1voaR9-frWhv0ZP8miTSdHjMM4onf4Ape6dP11TXXGj8tIWAD-LNTFumSDOABQIjy2YaQY/s1600-h/IMG_0606.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKUEOaTyNgIacqp73LJU6POGVA11sXxLXE_frJRpVvqoKeo_QGCYCYt2FU3RVpnG0fYS03r1voaR9-frWhv0ZP8miTSdHjMM4onf4Ape6dP11TXXGj8tIWAD-LNTFumSDOABQIjy2YaQY/s320/IMG_0606.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5204939975526147026" border="0" /></a><br />Evoking absolute terror in several local swimmers that day the beast was eventually captured by one intrepid aquatic animal expert who happened to be perusing those riparian shores...<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfMXPs_uz4Fbj48k17eST5hWsH9L0GD8lanm389k9rIg7FIC3N0N-1OiHChHYkaRLMswap9ztmsuIH9pJWl0RA0gQLXjFyqndfPzRYjJuB22uaqPJ1agHFMpQl4z8LWGH8MOCXPq6MSws/s1600-h/IMG_0605.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfMXPs_uz4Fbj48k17eST5hWsH9L0GD8lanm389k9rIg7FIC3N0N-1OiHChHYkaRLMswap9ztmsuIH9pJWl0RA0gQLXjFyqndfPzRYjJuB22uaqPJ1agHFMpQl4z8LWGH8MOCXPq6MSws/s320/IMG_0605.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5204940950483723234" border="0" /></a><br />After wrestling the biological anomaly back to river's edge calm was restored to the area, and the beast was whiske(ere)d away to a nearby 'Lab'oratory for further observation...<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgV8blG2JZUDzIWwyvNE4cAv8YkqsQONzgg-IpjYjrFXcqsy6gjsaGhaW1MBt57ffBkqFBzTnBBfxDmXkfDfevvMNGXkISCDoiqrlAOsTmjPlMIUK0FYfCLQ1dNOH8Th03YbBo0T3Yl068/s1600-h/IMG_0604.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgV8blG2JZUDzIWwyvNE4cAv8YkqsQONzgg-IpjYjrFXcqsy6gjsaGhaW1MBt57ffBkqFBzTnBBfxDmXkfDfevvMNGXkISCDoiqrlAOsTmjPlMIUK0FYfCLQ1dNOH8Th03YbBo0T3Yl068/s320/IMG_0604.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5204942745780052978" border="0" /></a><br />Once safely secured it was determined that the toothy specimen was at least ... part <span style="font-style: italic;">alligator</span>!<br /><br />(OK, this entry is utter crap-nonsense but I hadn't posted in a while...)Dennishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01779315037469105059noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9153127238789643504.post-43961365643940724952008-05-11T22:31:00.014-05:002008-11-13T14:53:04.118-06:00Mother's Day Proclamation<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6GUHt8pHJLvHOY4hXqOxXaSdSBo4YjhbcG8UiBnDrcBbD-GwHoXQfU37jYUEdgM6aVKEoP8-bZ5woelBiyhORn0JcXbTQX7qs3bCvciae94Hj6MsBi9yPO6aPNAkXt8HfmcXoI1w6-YA/s1600-h/R_pentagon.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6GUHt8pHJLvHOY4hXqOxXaSdSBo4YjhbcG8UiBnDrcBbD-GwHoXQfU37jYUEdgM6aVKEoP8-bZ5woelBiyhORn0JcXbTQX7qs3bCvciae94Hj6MsBi9yPO6aPNAkXt8HfmcXoI1w6-YA/s320/R_pentagon.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5199382226999996050" border="0" /></a><span style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; font-size-adjust: none;font-family:Helvetica;font-size:19;" >Unlike many of the corporate "Hallmark Holidays" that Americans are abused by yearly (may Valentine's Day and its ilk forever be banished to the dustbin of history!) the origins of "Mother's Day" here in the U.S. was actually based on a more noble cause: <span style="font-style: italic;">an anti-war statement against the carnage of the American Civil War.<br /><br /></span></span><p style="margin: 0px 0px 11px; line-height: 19px; text-align: left;"><span style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; font-size-adjust: none;font-family:Helvetica;font-size:100%;" >The following poem by Julia Ward Howe was written in 1870 as an early call to celebrate Mother's Day and asked that women take on more responsibility in shaping the politics of their country (given the current political landscape its as relevant as ever...):<br /></span></p><p style="margin: 0px 0px 11px; line-height: 19px; text-align: left;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhA39DgmkF2BmS6_kqDAXh9caW5M8wbyZVs1_oTn_hhHnhWsAhdv8Jg1DmLwpeudHYiRW-5OzljFHYxgAe32YrWT111uQ51WTGSLsbzgg9AShVrqmk4Ady-kFqmJzIZDy_WbVBzJiXLF1I/s1600-h/gunretired2-769345.jpg"><br /></a></p><p style="margin: 0px 0px 11px; line-height: 19px; font-weight: bold; text-align: left;"><span style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; font-size-adjust: none;font-family:Helvetica;font-size:130%;" >Mother's Day Proclamation</span></p><p style="margin: 0px 0px 6px; line-height: 19px; text-align: left;"><span style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; font-size-adjust: none;font-family:Helvetica;font-size:100%;" >Arise, then, women of this day!<br />Arise, all women who have hearts,<br />Whether our baptism be of water or of tears!</span></p><p style="margin: 0px 0px 6px; line-height: 19px; text-align: left;"><span style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; font-size-adjust: none;font-family:Helvetica;font-size:100%;" >Say firmly:<br />"We will not have great questions decided by irrelevant agencies,<br />Our husbands will not come to us, reeking with carnage, for caresses and applause.<br />Our sons shall not be taken from us to unlearn<br />All that we have been able to teach them of charity, mercy and patience.<br />We, the women of one country, will be too tender of those of another country<br />To allow our sons to be trained to injure theirs."</span></p><p style="margin: 0px 0px 6px; line-height: 19px; text-align: left;"><span style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; font-size-adjust: none;font-family:Helvetica;font-size:100%;" >From the bosom of the devastated Earth a voice goes up with our own.<br />It says: "Disarm! Disarm! The sword of murder is not the balance of justice."<br />Blood does not wipe out dishonor, nor violence indicate possession.<br />As men have often forsaken the plough and the anvil at the summons of war,<br />Let women now leave all that may be left of home for a great and earnest day of counsel.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px 0px 6px; line-height: 19px; text-align: left;"><span style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; font-size-adjust: none;font-family:Helvetica;font-size:100%;" >Let them meet first, as women, to bewail and commemorate the dead.<br />Let them solemnly take counsel with each other as to the means<br />Whereby the great human family can live in peace,<br />Each bearing after his own time the sacred impress, not of Caesar,<br />But of God.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px 0px 6px; line-height: 19px; text-align: left;"><span style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; font-size-adjust: none;font-family:Helvetica;font-size:100%;" >In the name of womanhood and humanity, I earnestly ask<br />That a general congress of women without limit of nationality<br />May be appointed and held at someplace deemed most convenient<br />And at the earliest period consistent with its objects,<br />To promote the alliance of the different nationalities,<br />The amicable settlement of international questions,<br />The great and general interests of peace.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px 0px 6px; line-height: 19px; font-style: italic; text-align: center;"><span style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; font-size-adjust: none;font-family:Helvetica;font-size:85%;" >--Julia Ward Howe (1870)</span></p><p style="margin: 0px 0px 11px; line-height: 19px; text-align: left;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhA39DgmkF2BmS6_kqDAXh9caW5M8wbyZVs1_oTn_hhHnhWsAhdv8Jg1DmLwpeudHYiRW-5OzljFHYxgAe32YrWT111uQ51WTGSLsbzgg9AShVrqmk4Ady-kFqmJzIZDy_WbVBzJiXLF1I/s1600-h/gunretired2-769345.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhA39DgmkF2BmS6_kqDAXh9caW5M8wbyZVs1_oTn_hhHnhWsAhdv8Jg1DmLwpeudHYiRW-5OzljFHYxgAe32YrWT111uQ51WTGSLsbzgg9AShVrqmk4Ady-kFqmJzIZDy_WbVBzJiXLF1I/s200/gunretired2-769345.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5199382003661696642" border="0" /></a></p><p style="margin: 0px 0px 6px; line-height: 19px; text-align: center;"><span style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; font-size-adjust: none;font-family:Helvetica;font-size:130%;" ><span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;">Happy Mother's Day!</span><br /></span></p> <!-- end sanitized html -->Dennishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01779315037469105059noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9153127238789643504.post-238243671079137342008-05-08T03:53:00.049-05:002008-11-13T14:53:07.054-06:00HomesteadyAs promised(!), now that the furniture is mostly in place, remaining boxes put into "storage" (read: stuffed away in the <span style="font-weight: bold;">Garage</span> somewhere...), the lawn freshly "<span style="font-style: italic;">weed whacked</span>", the cats having made peace with the dog (sort of ... nah, let's just skip that last one all together), and the rooms freshly painted, here are some recent photographs of our new home.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;">~~~~*~~~~<br /></div><br />Enjoy the intoxicating stench of "new house scent" at your own risk...<br /><br /><div style="text-align: left;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaiG7RSbfqZXNq2HoCqbH9xDuY1RIZVLDceDiVtftnUfzvQm2W6OShPgSwXyLKRCnMMncTck3mJEv81jtuI5RAHFXI3RRGQR4OJjOu8Quw5A3DcDJigYFd5QIEsOUAVIBM5y804zen2W0/s1600-h/Algarita_front_house_1.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaiG7RSbfqZXNq2HoCqbH9xDuY1RIZVLDceDiVtftnUfzvQm2W6OShPgSwXyLKRCnMMncTck3mJEv81jtuI5RAHFXI3RRGQR4OJjOu8Quw5A3DcDJigYFd5QIEsOUAVIBM5y804zen2W0/s320/Algarita_front_house_1.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5209643330076805218" border="0" /></a>The <span style="font-weight: bold;">Front Yard</span> area (some bastard won't move his car from our <span style="font-weight: bold;">Driveway</span>. Wait. <span style="font-style: italic;">Damnit</span>, that's <span style="font-style: italic;">my</span> car...).<br /></div><br /><div style="text-align: left;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYTTPR-sjgGyENvE5dnJLWNZLnrSftx5EnOwQCQbfd2CltVPSxoPu3ox4C4eON4kraTVehDNnIaCw5lMAYQTeIxnJsM-ymVWOiamrAphEF6Ea7ymcAKblWWZCgDQi7PUkDCwo9YJcuVXQ/s1600-h/Algarita_Across_Street.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYTTPR-sjgGyENvE5dnJLWNZLnrSftx5EnOwQCQbfd2CltVPSxoPu3ox4C4eON4kraTVehDNnIaCw5lMAYQTeIxnJsM-ymVWOiamrAphEF6Ea7ymcAKblWWZCgDQi7PUkDCwo9YJcuVXQ/s320/Algarita_Across_Street.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5209645607191673826" border="0" /></a>The view from across the "Boulevard" ... <span style="font-style: italic;">Avenue</span>, actually (<span style="font-style: italic;">aka</span> - our swell neighbors, <span style="font-weight: bold;">The Kroll's</span> house).<br /></div><br /><div style="text-align: left;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkQ1qNBaO5Q8AOrb8mJZoL-4GRhqhfbtb9VqQ7dsJ9XWbr7B-fLVld1y7QSprBQ_BTytqHuWpbSs3662T1klr4f66vH7O5wm2e4_BV-Q-5yXDJF-Y-j3bh5rGLiYaHi7oZPpycXtdn_G4/s1600-h/Livingroom_front_door.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkQ1qNBaO5Q8AOrb8mJZoL-4GRhqhfbtb9VqQ7dsJ9XWbr7B-fLVld1y7QSprBQ_BTytqHuWpbSs3662T1klr4f66vH7O5wm2e4_BV-Q-5yXDJF-Y-j3bh5rGLiYaHi7oZPpycXtdn_G4/s320/Livingroom_front_door.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5209647981468616722" border="0" /></a>The <span style="font-weight: bold;">Front Door</span> and <span style="font-weight: bold;">Living Room</span> area (a <span style="font-style: italic;">Triffid-like creature</span> invaded this frame despite my protestations).<br /></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><div style="text-align: left;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidw-HRdl6HBxwM3wj7eQJQNrV365ZKVU5GzAWhY_cTxl9GRGdHDaPipCPVH79e9_uMB5WQNOVw_GmCVnD7SPAyNeZ8sRTcfSv-xoyO5VvfI0kcS30bb1b7gRaRMLtfAI9SySOV4taNduw/s1600-h/Livingroom_Chat_Anubis.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidw-HRdl6HBxwM3wj7eQJQNrV365ZKVU5GzAWhY_cTxl9GRGdHDaPipCPVH79e9_uMB5WQNOVw_GmCVnD7SPAyNeZ8sRTcfSv-xoyO5VvfI0kcS30bb1b7gRaRMLtfAI9SySOV4taNduw/s320/Livingroom_Chat_Anubis.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5209644415903567378" border="0" /></a>The <span style="font-weight: bold;">Stairway</span> to many wondrous rooms above (complete with dueling <span style="font-style: italic;">Chat Noirs</span>! <span style="font-style: italic;">Pouvez-vous voir les chats?</span>).<br /></div><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><div style="text-align: left;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgv-nyqSgjO1o1-SEYLlQxrbO0ZVyUl-DpXy5DjHnXWFHB1IiNtPLzarHT4X8EOIIjIb3aDHo2CcRHtYeHUJPb125SySCMu0khPrMp2VOIpbFAVGW6XjXiJGYgJ9tHhfXPT44Q4aynwCOk/s1600-h/Livingroom_front+end.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgv-nyqSgjO1o1-SEYLlQxrbO0ZVyUl-DpXy5DjHnXWFHB1IiNtPLzarHT4X8EOIIjIb3aDHo2CcRHtYeHUJPb125SySCMu0khPrMp2VOIpbFAVGW6XjXiJGYgJ9tHhfXPT44Q4aynwCOk/s320/Livingroom_front+end.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5209644243711031506" border="0" /></a>The <span style="font-weight: bold;">Living Room</span> proper (there is <span style="font-style: italic;">no </span>bird in that cage, by the way; we think that one of the <span style="font-style: italic;">chat noirs</span> must've gotten to it).<br /></div><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><div style="text-align: left;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMIuAi5CXwdSjJz521A57uUS78zYTFiFNFsf4jR50_diSntbtAQraMem_VsQtpBP_0f2brqIAwjfmQnxrMv5suKRHtuG1xKWovmMPIsaswPnOc_JyGqrvhRTvv9AVjMROeHY-xOUEOoBY/s1600-h/Dining_table.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMIuAi5CXwdSjJz521A57uUS78zYTFiFNFsf4jR50_diSntbtAQraMem_VsQtpBP_0f2brqIAwjfmQnxrMv5suKRHtuG1xKWovmMPIsaswPnOc_JyGqrvhRTvv9AVjMROeHY-xOUEOoBY/s320/Dining_table.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5209644623480857826" border="0" /></a>The <span style="font-weight: bold;">Dining Room</span> table with the lovely <span style="font-style: italic;">Triffid-bouquet</span> from my dearest Mum!<br /></div><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglZMcdhYQw6KWbP2n2fOUnltUBQUjKPyea_qwAjMAXBldLUbeiNt2YYtvUqfJHtjTtVFhYBLjt_3O_k92oPQIIslWd5wUgDiuZWFVq_7ID6elyDG13j4ciTZ_otxUjD-gsvVtEIYLRMUg/s1600-h/Kitchen_stove_fridge.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglZMcdhYQw6KWbP2n2fOUnltUBQUjKPyea_qwAjMAXBldLUbeiNt2YYtvUqfJHtjTtVFhYBLjt_3O_k92oPQIIslWd5wUgDiuZWFVq_7ID6elyDG13j4ciTZ_otxUjD-gsvVtEIYLRMUg/s320/Kitchen_stove_fridge.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5209647675681217218" border="0" /></a>The <span style="font-weight: bold;">Kitchen</span> area (smallish but, <span style="font-style: italic;">goll-dang-it-all</span>, can we cook up a Texas-sized storm in here!).<br /></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><div style="text-align: left;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnlpSDM3JZU49zWLQCJvVVQTAU-O-YWJzRwEwjiZl9_Vo-dUSy9qX6oQTzsBUUAg5qL2gLGvTLzXdV-ZcPXFRxYlsTLzahdxzfU0mAClnVTZ6C-Sf10BvKHQTL08A3kDXkZfF9zpyLHwg/s1600-h/Porch_Backyard.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnlpSDM3JZU49zWLQCJvVVQTAU-O-YWJzRwEwjiZl9_Vo-dUSy9qX6oQTzsBUUAg5qL2gLGvTLzXdV-ZcPXFRxYlsTLzahdxzfU0mAClnVTZ6C-Sf10BvKHQTL08A3kDXkZfF9zpyLHwg/s320/Porch_Backyard.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5209645456488941650" border="0" /></a>Out back is the <span style="font-weight: bold;">Backyard Porch</span> and <span style="font-weight: bold;">Deck</span> area (complete with <span style="font-style: italic;">swing chair</span> and <span style="font-style: italic;">cat-doormat</span>!).<br /></div><br /><div style="text-align: left;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJfvjKi6hh-c4IG517LqWr-kV4xxa2eECFoWbogcr5zu4_-563k_yKQllaKLulJFieKNvR56MAvuf6nHL31TGwxvY35JM_XAWA0pmJZUDqM8Dz94ruFcHRh3EF1P0mrHHa66pOPCv1gs0/s1600-h/Swingchair_bamboo.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJfvjKi6hh-c4IG517LqWr-kV4xxa2eECFoWbogcr5zu4_-563k_yKQllaKLulJFieKNvR56MAvuf6nHL31TGwxvY35JM_XAWA0pmJZUDqM8Dz94ruFcHRh3EF1P0mrHHa66pOPCv1gs0/s320/Swingchair_bamboo.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5209643662683809298" border="0" /></a>And, there's a <span style="font-weight: bold;">Bamboo Garden</span> with <span style="font-style: italic;">another</span> raised <span style="font-style: italic;">swing chair</span> so the <span style="font-style: italic;">mosquitoes</span> can't reach us (pffff...).<br /></div><br /><br /><div style="text-align: left;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiStPPFTywe9BQYkQWL0hRFoe2DgL2vP1hPQYIWNq2v_TdWJThJXnJpp5M4iiQsqhbKduZq-y0nJf6-hdPnxxqtTmfIqC7oFCPdR2QDdKojM8acggG5H6L92Yh31cGpHlLbyQQ3_evV_Tc/s1600-h/Bamboo_Loki_2.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiStPPFTywe9BQYkQWL0hRFoe2DgL2vP1hPQYIWNq2v_TdWJThJXnJpp5M4iiQsqhbKduZq-y0nJf6-hdPnxxqtTmfIqC7oFCPdR2QDdKojM8acggG5H6L92Yh31cGpHlLbyQQ3_evV_Tc/s320/Bamboo_Loki_2.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5209645224674118322" border="0" /></a>Oh, look! Loki's in the <span style="font-weight: bold;">Bamboo Garden</span> ... eating something<span style="font-style: italic;"> foul </span>no doubt.<br /></div><br /><div style="text-align: left;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmmYpqG2o_E7YI60eafEIoGVlV3Fa-awBGjth72RhL-Fa7sKfLTmlV-70BCRBOZWAwzsugvACYnnuFqrn1ECMT7UDJG8JkykpNGdi8T0PiWjNF9ChgT16qLOT0c9ETweRyZPSHKN12yxE/s1600-h/Backyard_garden.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmmYpqG2o_E7YI60eafEIoGVlV3Fa-awBGjth72RhL-Fa7sKfLTmlV-70BCRBOZWAwzsugvACYnnuFqrn1ECMT7UDJG8JkykpNGdi8T0PiWjNF9ChgT16qLOT0c9ETweRyZPSHKN12yxE/s320/Backyard_garden.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5209643977580745922" border="0" /></a>In the <span style="font-weight: bold;">Backyard</span> there's a <span style="font-style: italic;">tomato garden</span> a-bloomin' (a-fruitin'??) and one raised-lumber enclosure in progress... don't even get me started about the "lawn"! Hey, do you know how hard it is to grow grass in Texas!?<br /></div><br />Xeriscaping: 1<br /><br />Flora: 0<br /><br /><div style="text-align: left;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgOmEj59_fCno3cXey-8OkncMRh7kL1TcMxXse8fG-U16HugJDIrsUBv5_gfUxQ0Ja-7aSro32LK__GIGyoONiGxxqacMQbRWFoI9jL6L1Ez56C2oqYiRLLXtVQFVdMgR_tkCtaZpPX8s/s1600-h/Loki_peeing.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgOmEj59_fCno3cXey-8OkncMRh7kL1TcMxXse8fG-U16HugJDIrsUBv5_gfUxQ0Ja-7aSro32LK__GIGyoONiGxxqacMQbRWFoI9jL6L1Ez56C2oqYiRLLXtVQFVdMgR_tkCtaZpPX8s/s320/Loki_peeing.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5209653980313337858" border="0" /></a>Loki helps with some of that lawn irrigation... (n.b. - she's buried one of the cats right where she's doing her business...).<br /></div><br /><div style="text-align: left;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUx0OgoUuGBiU7MLh7trMKmaiznUtdOExQ2dg-2rzltt9MiX89YaU-bGS1edWAhk5aD5KFw75NP9lEp1l1UbMV4Qj_3Qt_lqvzf2nTNSkffJeelIKrbxpUzjxJ-004Y96QgfHNARZ76LQ/s1600-h/Anubis+%26+Marley_staircase.png"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUx0OgoUuGBiU7MLh7trMKmaiznUtdOExQ2dg-2rzltt9MiX89YaU-bGS1edWAhk5aD5KFw75NP9lEp1l1UbMV4Qj_3Qt_lqvzf2nTNSkffJeelIKrbxpUzjxJ-004Y96QgfHNARZ76LQ/s320/Anubis+%26+Marley_staircase.png" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5209651933854479842" border="0" /></a>Speaking of cats, let's go <span style="font-weight: bold;">Upstairs</span>, shall we? Watch out for them kitties, though! I swear to god Marley will trip you while Anubis pushes you from behind to encourage your rapid downward momentum...<br /></div><br /><div style="text-align: left;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyEkWibtGB3w_pOKU_VkvBL8IlqGWwWMHKsonqdyn0K_8pZNGDWa7SobMtEIZuJvWIWA4oPhgKybfW5sZfrLHdY0T_TkER9H10i1_ZumTEn5EhOQ5X79oHJWdIQ-OKfXv1OgMpMt0htwk/s1600-h/Master_bedroom.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyEkWibtGB3w_pOKU_VkvBL8IlqGWwWMHKsonqdyn0K_8pZNGDWa7SobMtEIZuJvWIWA4oPhgKybfW5sZfrLHdY0T_TkER9H10i1_ZumTEn5EhOQ5X79oHJWdIQ-OKfXv1OgMpMt0htwk/s320/Master_bedroom.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5209644999156101762" border="0" /></a>The <span style="font-weight: bold;">Master Bedroom </span>(yes, the dog sleeps with us ... we fit comfortably in the crate and she lets us out in the morning ... most days).<br /></div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhT723n0BAf624uxHiVbIZiI9UQPfK4iS-1r6cM1oeMBYK1VFJYOhie_7X35hFcUGU1vpOjaodLvNFIxSJ3h3X4wp1ehyBK_Dl2lbkovHY9BzEW_Qc3TWDmEAiNYcync6FjyUUJ03G2nfM/s1600-h/Guest_room.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhT723n0BAf624uxHiVbIZiI9UQPfK4iS-1r6cM1oeMBYK1VFJYOhie_7X35hFcUGU1vpOjaodLvNFIxSJ3h3X4wp1ehyBK_Dl2lbkovHY9BzEW_Qc3TWDmEAiNYcync6FjyUUJ03G2nfM/s320/Guest_room.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5209644780113288898" border="0" /></a>The <span style="font-weight: bold;">Office </span>(and <span style="font-weight: bold;">Cat Room</span>)...<br /><br /><div style="text-align: left;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCUZiWjvtVTMZipmlvP24Tp0f98eLxSsxxP0xG87eYVRLxmFfClCpVFHST-uXnNZFhGHbW3mKym478bD46ofF59N7iIRwoOh0y9dV2SXYLEFPK1KNxmmPwTGZA2zEwaNFd3Obo_ZyRk3Q/s1600-h/Guest_room.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCUZiWjvtVTMZipmlvP24Tp0f98eLxSsxxP0xG87eYVRLxmFfClCpVFHST-uXnNZFhGHbW3mKym478bD46ofF59N7iIRwoOh0y9dV2SXYLEFPK1KNxmmPwTGZA2zEwaNFd3Obo_ZyRk3Q/s320/Guest_room.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5209646356963381746" border="0" /></a>... functions as the <span style="font-weight: bold;">Guest Bedroom</span>, too (don't mind the <span style="font-weight: bold;">Cat Room</span> part ... seriously, we keep the <span style="font-style: italic;">litter box </span>downstairs).<br /></div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-Ok1M2POFVQheicUXtQJeXa0se0KPm0wi4Oed7sRVz8epg4o1FxD461rDH-cVHv_bsuzze2Z3LlFOEaKtuMq5K75oJS_phlKmZ-0tnYs3MHqPa2R1ECBiQzVnyWSOfXSK18Wu2EkjSdc/s1600-h/Den_room_tank.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-Ok1M2POFVQheicUXtQJeXa0se0KPm0wi4Oed7sRVz8epg4o1FxD461rDH-cVHv_bsuzze2Z3LlFOEaKtuMq5K75oJS_phlKmZ-0tnYs3MHqPa2R1ECBiQzVnyWSOfXSK18Wu2EkjSdc/s320/Den_room_tank.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5209645792442619218" border="0" /></a>The <span style="font-weight: bold;">"Entertainment" Room</span> (<span style="font-style: italic;">fishtanks</span> are more interesting than <span style="font-style: italic;">television sets</span>).<br /><br /><div style="text-align: left;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-ONyJC5186WOQWf7qDR-B4sQbvp_nu-wAHW8bKI7TN2wngWMAOab2hRGt-FVpKzZUkPBcGqqlU5sikE7ka3sarDn1lnDLjHF3lZyctgvKUVbKq2X_JTlbkJpeGFC3fI_Tp3Ly68t0-C8/s1600-h/Deck_entrance.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-ONyJC5186WOQWf7qDR-B4sQbvp_nu-wAHW8bKI7TN2wngWMAOab2hRGt-FVpKzZUkPBcGqqlU5sikE7ka3sarDn1lnDLjHF3lZyctgvKUVbKq2X_JTlbkJpeGFC3fI_Tp3Ly68t0-C8/s320/Deck_entrance.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5209646180396026114" border="0" /></a>Exit through the <span style="font-weight: bold;">Entertainment Room's French Doors</span> and out onto the <span style="font-style: italic;">upstairs</span> <span style="font-weight: bold;">Deck</span> (see the <span style="font-style: italic;">catnip plant</span> in corner...? I kid you not).<br /></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><div style="text-align: left;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyCsrOTX55JvTUsFnyIR8jAJ_GJUXZWqy7xzW9rm8gau1XPSYFyb_2bNsZ4Avf5MjX9QX6_mlAvO_yPjTNTTZ_GjmTEqvVHkXGDJsoRliS1MTlbBQesJJF6XBSKK6FM-COc0ua51T1v84/s1600-h/Deck_main.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyCsrOTX55JvTUsFnyIR8jAJ_GJUXZWqy7xzW9rm8gau1XPSYFyb_2bNsZ4Avf5MjX9QX6_mlAvO_yPjTNTTZ_GjmTEqvVHkXGDJsoRliS1MTlbBQesJJF6XBSKK6FM-COc0ua51T1v84/s320/Deck_main.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5209645982055447682" border="0" /></a>The <span style="font-style: italic;">Zen-like</span> <span style="font-weight: bold;">Treehouse Deck </span>(<span style="font-style: italic;">bamboo canopy</span> shields us from the onslaught of incoming <span style="font-style: italic;">egg</span> <span style="font-style: italic;">attacks</span> from our neighbors).<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;">~~~~*~~~~<br /></div></div><br /><div style="text-align: left;"> Well, that pretty much completes the tour (aside from the two-and-a-half <span style="font-weight: bold;">Bathrooms</span>; I just always thought photographing <span style="font-style: italic;">toilets</span> was a touch ... <span style="font-style: italic;">gauche</span>, ya know?).<br /><br /></div></div><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSEk2MnOzpUeAtfPTWPyAxp3-Tq8htnZc9HVrus1ZVwI9-XMZPw83r_Po_co27cry9erhfgUPvbhhUkFtLET6j856rrSRyVjY0Aos_AMg5FvLkWJTzDTTQx7Hyblk7um3incctAp18ZvM/s1600-h/Algarita_front_house_sideview_right.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSEk2MnOzpUeAtfPTWPyAxp3-Tq8htnZc9HVrus1ZVwI9-XMZPw83r_Po_co27cry9erhfgUPvbhhUkFtLET6j856rrSRyVjY0Aos_AMg5FvLkWJTzDTTQx7Hyblk7um3incctAp18ZvM/s320/Algarita_front_house_sideview_right.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5209646579914547394" border="0" /></a>Ah, Home, Sweat, Home (as always a constant <span style="font-style: italic;">work</span> in progress).<br /></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;">Ya'll come down and visit us sometime, ya hear?</span><br /></div>Dennishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01779315037469105059noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9153127238789643504.post-44398760513577837232008-04-04T08:42:00.025-05:002008-11-13T14:53:07.268-06:00Giants' Teeth (or, The Sky Is Falling)<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDTz-FHHExTKq7b_nWVxiLVuXtZb7jvSYaS-d3iSkw0M-qdV5FvsQrG1wpdy0rI8xXMHpf-8cg2TcrN5znWqV8sJbncrSI2haFzFSgOuOcQ2YcpXwHXbL562ThgxSqFqrlV9KYN4LT6X0/s1600-h/hailstones_molars.png"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDTz-FHHExTKq7b_nWVxiLVuXtZb7jvSYaS-d3iSkw0M-qdV5FvsQrG1wpdy0rI8xXMHpf-8cg2TcrN5znWqV8sJbncrSI2haFzFSgOuOcQ2YcpXwHXbL562ThgxSqFqrlV9KYN4LT6X0/s200/hailstones_molars.png" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5197900612269437314" border="0" /></a>Giants fought above our normally peaceful neighborhood today. Two, maybe, three. Or, more!<br /><br /><a href="http://www.geocities.com/mjloundy/"><span style="font-style: italic;">Chicken Little</span></a> has found redemption in the skies above Austin.<br /><br />Thousands of jumbo-sized teeth fell from the sky in a brutish, unforgiving torrent.<br /><br />It went something like this, I'm guessing...<br /><br /><<<<span style="font-style: italic;">CRAAACK!</span>>>><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Thor </span><span>with his mighty</span> <span style="font-style: italic;">Hammer</span> smites his younger, mischievous sibling, <span style="font-style: italic;">Loki</span> (<span style="font-style: italic;">ed. - with apologies to our own mischievous little canine...</span>), into dizzying, but only momentary, submission. A severe jar-rattling bludgeon to the choppers.<br /><br />"<span style="font-style: italic;">Bumpety</span>-<span style="font-style: italic;">bump-bump-bump-bump</span>...<span style="font-style: italic;">ker-plunk</span>!"<br /><br />Those pocked molars busting loose and dancing all over my car's sun-roofed top. The tarred shingles. The front lawn. The bird bath. The street. BAIR's Paper Supply across the way. And especially all madly <span style="font-style: italic;">pachinko</span>-ing throughout the pecan tree branches.<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Odd</span> for this time of year (Just, please... please don't shatter the windshields!).<br /><br /><<<<span style="font-style: italic;">WHAAACK!</span>>>><br /><br />Retribution is swift and merciless; another well-placed blow lands squarely and heavily only this time a <span style="font-style: italic;">hail</span> of <span style="font-style: italic;">Thor's</span> incisors & bicuspids trundles down in a furious, chaotic sheet of broken bone and spit.<br /><br /><<<<span style="font-style: italic;">BOOOM!</span>>>><br /><br />Good Christ, here it comes (Oh, I just know I'll be banging dents out of the SAAB's hood for weeks!)...<br /><br />"Tink. <span style="font-style: italic;">(pause)</span> Tank <span style="font-style: italic;">(pause)</span> Tunk. <span style="font-style: italic;">(pause)</span> Ba-dunk."<br /><br />Their mouths finally run out of teeth ... what follows are all apologetic tears for 5, maybe 10, minutes more. Heavy, drenching, blinding tears.<br /><br />(((<span style="font-style: italic;">R</span>))((<span style="font-style: italic;">U</span>))((<span style="font-style: italic;">M</span>))((<span style="font-style: italic;">B</span>))((<span style="font-style: italic;">L</span>))((<span style="font-style: italic;">E</span>)))<br /><br />Two giant brothers amble off into the distance somewhere to console one another ... (perhaps over San Antonio?) ... but, inevitably, and certainly once their new teeth are again grown into place, will come back this way...<br /><br />...all a <span style="font-style: italic;">fragilis-dentata</span>-piss-and-vinegar-spewing-mad.<br /><br />Angry with each other?<br /><br />More likely ... furious at the world.Dennishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01779315037469105059noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9153127238789643504.post-87115836152535903552008-04-01T23:17:00.015-05:002008-11-13T14:53:07.511-06:00Rock Out With Your Caulk Out!<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbxNwV5pNLRNa06szxw1bc5S5gprGw04J2XuiNFalW27_OIjFebXotyNBGw8omORxAB2RLG3_mgixE6w1DsDdG8H7n7ZC6qwMEddZlTm3rfHna1Kd2cBE-KzOc-Y1Ht0BI3oaRk09ZVBI/s1600-h/HomeDespot.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbxNwV5pNLRNa06szxw1bc5S5gprGw04J2XuiNFalW27_OIjFebXotyNBGw8omORxAB2RLG3_mgixE6w1DsDdG8H7n7ZC6qwMEddZlTm3rfHna1Kd2cBE-KzOc-Y1Ht0BI3oaRk09ZVBI/s200/HomeDespot.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5197910185751540114" border="0" /></a>Gotta love a new and stressed out home-owner.<br /><br />So, there we were at <span style="font-style: italic;">The Home Despot (aka - The Home Desperate, aka - Wall Mart, aka - Stalag 13, aka - New Shrine To The Pathetic And </span><span style="font-style: italic;">Overly Obsessed </span><span style="font-style: italic;">Property Slave... etc, etc, etc!) </span>picking up our new and profoundly over-priced stove, refrigerator, microwave oven, washer, drier, insert random household appliances here...<br /><br />I'm <span style="font-style: italic;">very</span> tired. Let me stress (and I do mean stress...) the word "very" for you, okay? <span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"><br /><br />VERY!<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;"><span style="font-style: italic;"></span></span></span><br />Its been a long day of closings, title fees, mortgage notes, insurance papers, real estate agents, appraisal forms, legal documents, check passing and everything else that goes along with the purchasing of a new home. <span style="font-style: italic;"><br /><br />And then some</span>.<br /><br />My mind is spinning on how fast money is funneling out of my bank account. And this little man, this chattering little weasel-like creature, "<span style="font-style: italic;">Clint</span>", is trying to sell us (by us, I mean my wife, Heather, myself, and the several dozen or so pink, blue, and green faeries fluttering madly around my head...) warranties upon warranties for each new appliance. As if three months pay wasn't enough already, all right?! If this guy were taking blood samples he'd screw the whole intravenous tube and needle thing and go straight for a sapping spigot and 10 gallon bucket!<br /><br />Shortly into his pitch <span style="font-style: italic;">Mary Lou Jesus-Camp</span> saunters up to explain even MORE great deals to be had!<br /><br />And I've...<br /><br />I've had enough.<br /><br />'<span style="font-style: italic;">Don't our new bathrooms need to be silicon-ed or something???</span>'<br /><br />Heather, this is your show now. Have at it with these clowns.<br /><br />And without so much as batting an awkwardly bent eye-lash I just blurt out, "Hey, Clint? Can you just show me where your <span style="font-style: italic;">caulk</span> is?"<br /><br />Sounds like...<br /><br />Stops them both dead in their tracks (at least they've finally shut-up!).<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Mary Lou</span> turns beet-red. Her priest is going to have a rough confessional next week...<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Clint</span> fails terribly in suppressing his <span style="font-style: italic;">did-he-just-say-what- I-thought-he-just-said!</span> shit-eating grin.<br /><br />"Ummm, you mean our <span style="font-style: italic;">caulking</span>? That's two rows down in Aisle 7."<br /><br />I fail to find the humor in any of this.<br /><br />At all.<br /><br />I leave in a head-shaking huff.<br /><br />Although, immediately afterwards, it does ticklishly get me to thinking, "Wouldn't it be great to just drop trow right about now and waddle over to Aisle 7 with my shorts wrapped around my ankles screaming, 'Hey, where's your <span style="font-style: italic;">caulk</span>! Where's your goddamn <span style="font-style: italic;">caulk</span>, you bastards! I need to find some <span style="font-style: italic;">caulk</span> badly! Right here, right now!'"<br /><br />The moral of this story is...<br /><br />Well, there is no moral. Morals have gone completely out the window, in fact.<br /><br />But, I did find the "caulking" in Aisle 7 just like Clint had told me it would be.<br /><br />And, also, you can be damn sure that the next time I wander into <span style="font-style: italic;">The Home Depot</span> I'm not going to take any prisoners: "Hey, can somebody tell me where you fuckers stack your <span style="font-style: italic;">Penis Guns</span> around this douche-colony!?"<br /><br />That oughtta hold the little bastards...Dennishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01779315037469105059noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9153127238789643504.post-56363216697519439782008-03-23T19:24:00.011-05:002008-11-13T14:53:07.579-06:00Man In A Night Time Mirror<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFjNUfus0AZtUNXuFamf4x9eGXTccC-pq140GSj6BRE1WjuGvyoqwq_HPMS8ljnzL2pR7SJXfxsoIhlgULs5E6XxdtkQmLsRI_xVNiTITmaTDxLCaTR09Avmm_nwQ-xyepgdqNQYVBQls/s1600-h/man+in+the+mirror.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFjNUfus0AZtUNXuFamf4x9eGXTccC-pq140GSj6BRE1WjuGvyoqwq_HPMS8ljnzL2pR7SJXfxsoIhlgULs5E6XxdtkQmLsRI_xVNiTITmaTDxLCaTR09Avmm_nwQ-xyepgdqNQYVBQls/s200/man+in+the+mirror.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5183240985140265890" border="0" /></a>When I met the man he stood about 5'11" but was much younger.<br /><br />Down a darkened hall he stared back from inside a mirror.<br /><br />All words written and spoken in Gaelic here. A small, lost town on the edge of a forgotten, pinprick of a place.<br /><br />No one home.<br /><br />Whole place to myself. With eggs! And milk! Bread and freshly churned butter!<br /><br />And as darkness crept in and then turned into oblivion I woke up and walked down an empty-house hall. Floors answered back with every covert and careful step.<br /><br />Naked.<br /><br />Except for maybe my pretenses.<br /><br />There he was, too.<br /><br />Alone.<br /><br />Naked.<br /><br />Except for his pretenses.<br /><br />Staring back down over eighteen years or so of darkened hallways.<br /><br />We startled each other. Because no one was supposed to be home. But there we were ... facing off. Stuck in night's glue.<br /><br />I discovered <span style="font-style: italic;">you</span> down a hallway.<br /><br />In a mirror over a decade and more ago. Staring me into eternity, or now. Whichever came first.<br /><br />Now here I am.<br /><br />Memory as time machine.<br /><br />God, if I only knew then what I know now (you foolish <span style="font-style: italic;">cliche</span>-whore!).<br /><br />Stay right there, lad, stay right there.<br /><br />Frozen in time.<br /><br />In that night felled, cottage mirror.<br /><br />Afraid.<br /><br />But still safe.Dennishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01779315037469105059noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9153127238789643504.post-6138418717432458302008-03-21T16:17:00.011-05:002008-03-23T19:20:17.779-05:00Pet Peeve Hypocrite!<div style="margin: 2px; text-align: center; width: 140px;" id="DogsterBadge"><div style="text-align: center;"><script src="http://badge.dogster.com/2/?pet_ids=757309&color=o&uid=610444" language="javascript"></script>OK, so maybe, just maybe... she's one of the greatest dogs ever?<br /></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.dogster.com/" class="st" style="font-family: Arial,sans-serif; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; font-size: 9px; line-height: 145%; font-size-adjust: none; text-decoration: none; color: rgb(153, 153, 153);" title="Dogster.com">Join the Dogster community</a></div></div>Dennishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01779315037469105059noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9153127238789643504.post-77650627539104752772008-03-03T17:08:00.024-06:002008-11-13T14:53:08.292-06:00Meet The Mouth<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsxPR9KhZouJZOQnk2pjge6RUNvOqfPqxrlwOfUko7h-txap2figj9YB3jiurJOGVy29INbEJq7PAagw3nUEZrWIPfP-XOHJU1juNAuA1eaYoFN6ONw0IKZsOio1wyPFxpI8KFEHVfg8U/s1600-h/Meet+The+Mouth.png"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsxPR9KhZouJZOQnk2pjge6RUNvOqfPqxrlwOfUko7h-txap2figj9YB3jiurJOGVy29INbEJq7PAagw3nUEZrWIPfP-XOHJU1juNAuA1eaYoFN6ONw0IKZsOio1wyPFxpI8KFEHVfg8U/s200/Meet+The+Mouth.png" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5178953726458459010" border="0" /></a>Dog owners are different than cat owners.<br /><br />Every dog owner will make you painfully aware of that fact.<br /><br />They say, "Well, we've had 'Cerberus' for 3 years, 6 months, 2 weeks, 10 days, 12 hours, 13 minutes and 53 seconds."<br /><br />Cat owners will defer, "We think she's about 2 or 3 years old..."<br /><br />Dogs exude personality.<br /><br />Cats exude independence.<br /><br />Dogs <span style="font-style: italic;">know</span> words.<br /><br />Cats: "No words."<br /><br />If cats do "know" words... well, then they sure as hell understand the art of feigning ignorance.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEip6gEnPhq6fySjyOjvjsQ_y-KCJ_2ivOrYe7SQ_cV0vfpDc88zzVnoafJXvH5bQvkqXjSDL4R-unhq8sgoEpIk9DBttsXVSufU9dawwYLSig81Zj-cUBegPv630c6WbUF8TTZ_IltFvAU/s1600-h/Loki_Supermodel.png"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEip6gEnPhq6fySjyOjvjsQ_y-KCJ_2ivOrYe7SQ_cV0vfpDc88zzVnoafJXvH5bQvkqXjSDL4R-unhq8sgoEpIk9DBttsXVSufU9dawwYLSig81Zj-cUBegPv630c6WbUF8TTZ_IltFvAU/s200/Loki_Supermodel.png" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5178955977021322178" border="0" /></a>Loyalty.<br /><br />Obedience.<br /><br />Love.<br /><br />Expression.<br /><br />These are words associated with dogs.<br /><br />Cats?<br /><br />Loyalty (to no one...).<br /><br />Obedience (Pfff. Riiiiiight...).<br /><br />Love (of sunny spots and tongue baths maybe...).<br /><br />Expression (as long as that expression involves a <span style="font-style: italic;">middle finger</span>...).<br /><br />There is always a <span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;">BIG</span> story behind a dog. Usually weeks in the making if not months.<br /><br />Cats have stories, too. Very detailed ones. But chances are if you asked a dog to recite his or her story he or she would do it in a most excited and immaculate manner. Woofing in gregarious detail all the way!<br /><br />Cats, on the other hand, would write their story down somewhere, hide it from everyone and wait until '<span style="font-style: italic;">The Mothership</span>' touches down before revealing their ultimate truth... (you think I'm kidding?)<br /><br />Let it be clear: <span style="font-style: italic;">I adore cats.</span><br /><br />Let it also be clear: <span style="font-style: italic;">I adore dogs.</span><br /><br />Can there really be such a strain of humanity??<br /><br />You usually don't find this happy medium in most people.<br /><br />You're either one, or the other.<br /><br />Period.<br /><br />Dog Owners might say: "Cats = Terrorists, Dogs = Patriots".<br /><br />Cat Owners might say: "Dogs = Short Bus To English As A 2nd Language Class, Cats = New York Times Sunday Edition Crossword Puzzle".<br /><br />So, where does that leave us 'lovers of both'?<br /><br />Dogs = Dogs.<br /><br />That's great!<br /><br />Cats = Cats.<br /><br />Why, that's great, too!<br /><br />Are we then Patriotic Progressives? Folks that are willing to negotiate with the terrorists after weeks of scholarly review? Or, just undeniably neurotic...?<br /><br />Whatever. <span style="font-style: italic;">Meet The Mouth</span>.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgojDAlGUBVJoP31oblYADH47B8xIVjPBVcNF2aaX2mqjW0Iu7LUrVDfwL2avBZwQ47ZnLXmj2W7WpZ_WKiqf02KJ7fh-pTbaTu_wupR4zanbGMD8Nk4dqNgC3kSwwLrhZvt4hz0dJXodU/s1600-h/Loki_Star_Small.png"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgojDAlGUBVJoP31oblYADH47B8xIVjPBVcNF2aaX2mqjW0Iu7LUrVDfwL2avBZwQ47ZnLXmj2W7WpZ_WKiqf02KJ7fh-pTbaTu_wupR4zanbGMD8Nk4dqNgC3kSwwLrhZvt4hz0dJXodU/s200/Loki_Star_Small.png" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5178959193951826914" border="0" /></a>"<span style="font-style: italic;">Loki</span>" (after hours of naming-rites debate between Heather and myself!).<br /><br />She's a black lab mix. We're thinking a touch of <span style="font-style: italic;">Chow</span> or <span style="font-style: italic;">Pyrenees</span> thrown in perhaps judging by the kinky hair around her ears and the pudgier than normal snout for a normally pure-bred lab.<br /><br />Did I mention she's<span style="font-style: italic;"> black? </span>Matches<span style="font-style: italic;"> '<a href="http://musing-myself-to-death.blogspot.com/2007/10/meet-coven.html">The Coven'</a>! (ed. - oh, go get yourselves on some meds pronto, you obsessives!)</span><br /><br />I found her ... (rather she found me!) ... at the local Austin pet shelter, "<a href="http://www.lockhart-tx.org/web98//citydepartments/animalservices-causeforpaws.asp">Cause For Paws</a>."<br /><br />I just <span style="font-style: italic;">couldn't</span> say, "No."<br /><br />Isn't that how the excuse usually goes?<br /><br />She had me at, "Woof." (complete with jowly head-cocked, mushy brown eyes all a-drooping...!)<br /><br />(<span style="font-style: italic;">sigh!</span>)<br /><br />Indeed. Stricken was I.<br /><br />We are now the proud owners of one very high energy, completely time consuming bundle of canine joy. It's been awhile for me, admittedly. I grew up with dogs and loved their undying companionship. The way they would hop into your arms when you came home at night. The way you could just tell they would die inside every time you left the homestead - even for a second!<br /><br />No difference here. <span style="font-style: italic;"><br /><br />Loki</span> is only a puppy, maybe 3 or 4 months at most, and she dies inside every time you have to "crate" her for the night (merely to save the cats mind you) or leave the house for even just a moment.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4RvNeXC8_9gpf-I-xVQsV0qBgc_ISQTJIBrHadKeq2POOyikQDrRWrcNaj6J91T44gDFwFkonJd6ZkWh23FAfO-_RjBOWdyg5YvCC6OsjjVz3NIojQm9BR5STYNfH5waqH5qaoLcE6is/s1600-h/Loki_Gettin_Groomed.png"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4RvNeXC8_9gpf-I-xVQsV0qBgc_ISQTJIBrHadKeq2POOyikQDrRWrcNaj6J91T44gDFwFkonJd6ZkWh23FAfO-_RjBOWdyg5YvCC6OsjjVz3NIojQm9BR5STYNfH5waqH5qaoLcE6is/s320/Loki_Gettin_Groomed.png" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5178956256194196434" border="0" /></a><br />She hates any activity shy of full-on buddy-buddy companionship. When she finally has your undivided attention... she then promptly pees everywhere (<span style="font-weight: bold;">Chorus Of Cats</span> be heard: "<span style="font-style: italic;">Heathen!</span>").<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">That's</span> how excited she becomes: "Oh, joy of joys, love of loves, be still my beating little puppy heart! My saviors, my companions, my pack! Once again reunited! May I christen you with the fresh bowl of water I just drank about an hour ago now??"<br /><br />I am not a squeamish person. Albeit, I am no fan of full-on feces coverage either, but I can handle the fairly minor, messy "inconveniences" in life.<br /><br />Urine?<br /><br />Ha! What's a little body-processed H20!?<br /><br />Vomit??<br /><br />Hell, I used to do that all the time in college!<br /><br />Poop!<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Poop!?</span><br /><br />What kind of word is "poop" anyway!? A word for <span style="font-style: italic;">faeries</span>! Faeiries<span style="font-style: italic;"> poop</span>!<br /><br />I can handle a little "poop". Why I can even handle a lot of "POOP!" (<span style="font-style: italic;">read</span>: you should see some of the jobs I've held in my life...)<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Loki</span> is a factory full of it all.<br /><br />Not so much the vomit part, really, but certainly the other <span style="font-style: italic;">exiting doggy doings</span> to be sure.<br /><br />We're beginning to feel like a maid service, in fact. We've mopped the house so many times in the past week that it's either extremely clean, or we've merely scrubbed all that puppy urine so deeply into the wood floors that the yellow shine is simply an illusion.<br /><br />And that <span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;">MOUTH</span>!<br /><br />Anyone want to suggest how to handle a clacking maw full of fanged, chewing, non-stop gnashing-toothy chomping action?! Please do advise! Heather has nicknamed her "<span style="font-style: italic;">The Alligator</span>". When next we meet the holes in our shoes aren't some fashion statement for warmer climes be assured... furniture, rugs, plants, pecans, metal(!), pillows, molding ... <span style="font-style: italic;">gulp!</span> <span style="font-weight: bold;">The Cats</span>!!<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhW-19FDrSxg7NVHAflAUfXxgkpRdT_9r6meiQd6ur7UD2DiqDrK-XCZKv4HrBv05iLKCTXZg_7ywaTv94HRAPEotzyZxuY44NL24igyMe-9MV3lYb5EGsXotlSLBKZHM5fp2xUjUNjrTY/s1600-h/Loki_Puppy_Stare.png"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhW-19FDrSxg7NVHAflAUfXxgkpRdT_9r6meiQd6ur7UD2DiqDrK-XCZKv4HrBv05iLKCTXZg_7ywaTv94HRAPEotzyZxuY44NL24igyMe-9MV3lYb5EGsXotlSLBKZHM5fp2xUjUNjrTY/s320/Loki_Puppy_Stare.png" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5178960040060384242" border="0" /></a><br />"NO, LOKI, NO! DOWN! HOLD! HOOOOOOLD! HOOOOLD!"<br /><br />"Hold", our special <span style="font-style: italic;">power</span> word for ... for everything she's not suppose to be doing, really - quite effective!<br /><br />It's like a spiritual mantra all of a sudden. "Hold" will bring peace & calm to our universe on most occasions. When it doesn't work properly "Cookie?" or "Walk?" sometimes will suffice.<br /><br />Without going into too much more detail (again the whole "people-who-go-on-and-on-about-how-extraordinary-and- wonderful-their-doggies-&-kitties-are-thing" happens to be a personal, ahem, <span style="font-style: italic;">pet</span>-peeve of mine...) <span style="font-style: italic;">Loki</span> is whip-smart, gentle, heart breaking-ly loving & lovable, criminally cute and has a bark that mimics both a feral coyote and a stray <span style="font-style: italic;">minke whale</span> when she's lonely, and one that quickly evolves into a deep, throaty, window-rattling "<span style="font-style: italic;">BAW-ROOF!</span><span style="font-style: italic;"> BAW-ROOF!</span>" when she's acting all <span style="font-style: italic;">tough</span>.<br /><br />"Ha! Tough, eh? You think you're so <span style="font-style: italic;">tough</span>, is that it? Try scrubbing crap out of a rug at <span style="font-style: italic;">2:30 in the morning</span> sometime, dawg! I'll show you <span style="font-style: italic;">tough</span>!"<br /><br />In short, though, we're tremendously proud and truly happy to have our new family member with us, and hoping that she'll be ... hold on a sec.<br /><br />"NO, LOKI, NO! DON'T YOU TOSS THAT CAT THAT HIGH IN THE AIR! HOLD! HOOLD!! HOOOOOLLLLLD!!!"<br /><br />Apologies, gotta run.<br /><br />Must peel cat off ceiling...Dennishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01779315037469105059noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9153127238789643504.post-17851482645703842442008-02-26T15:12:00.009-06:002008-11-13T14:53:08.453-06:00Winds Of Change<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjE8U3Odat1zPHleT4JmdVcsOgCr27JOfw0QQ-0AdCOXrXWr9eN56VBzmarv0B-0kaBSp8_5e0xVnR4mFiFVYvuavyjU8aMqqezLABECvvgvLzrIHcDKEGFznfSu1yV-P273qz6fz1dX3k/s1600-h/for+sale_sold.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjE8U3Odat1zPHleT4JmdVcsOgCr27JOfw0QQ-0AdCOXrXWr9eN56VBzmarv0B-0kaBSp8_5e0xVnR4mFiFVYvuavyjU8aMqqezLABECvvgvLzrIHcDKEGFznfSu1yV-P273qz6fz1dX3k/s200/for+sale_sold.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5171403365442678946" border="0" /></a>Outside.<br /><br />A bluster is going on.<br /><br />It's late and the bags full of leaves I've stowed for some future pick-up vehicle to arrive are making a racket outside my window.<br /><br />"Do you smell something burning? There's a fire somewhere." she says, registering concern for this type of event for the first time.<br /><br />What is it?<br /><br />What's this smoke in the air.<br /><br />Thousands of acres burn somewhere.<br /><br />Thousands.<br /><br />What changes are coming?Dennishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01779315037469105059noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9153127238789643504.post-81130548362621481042008-02-15T13:58:00.017-06:002008-11-13T14:53:08.546-06:00Change Is A Foot<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifkh-azYchtauXvKF3uDy4hfxxEaYv43yLixnp-koKI8lSMjnLryPwwU_ZtIcE46aH2oYOTAACu1KnfOiFEeREPXgc5fK-KESC6heo9AS9vqsWRZp-ZiqBWvKUkHatCGvFuaKvKBBZHQ8/s1600-h/for-rent.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifkh-azYchtauXvKF3uDy4hfxxEaYv43yLixnp-koKI8lSMjnLryPwwU_ZtIcE46aH2oYOTAACu1KnfOiFEeREPXgc5fK-KESC6heo9AS9vqsWRZp-ZiqBWvKUkHatCGvFuaKvKBBZHQ8/s200/for-rent.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5168045156283740258" border="0" /></a>Or, two even.<br /><br />Sometimes much greater distances.<br /><br />Simple steps, though, that add up to many feet.<br /><br />Miles even.<br /><br />I helped our neighbors, <span style="font-style: italic;">The P.'s</span>, move out of their <span style="font-style: italic;">diminutive-on-the-outside</span> looking abode this week. Its right behind our house. Same color. Same style. Same builder. Different folks inside.<br /><br />Looks can be deceiving; <span style="font-style: italic;">nothing</span> is diminutive when it comes to moving peoples' lives. Babies, boxes, books, beds, bikes, beer-making kits, barking dog, plus myriad minutiae and a multitude of memories. Lots and lots of memories to carry away. The heaviest things to lift and then to watch move away with a jack-o-lantern <span>colored</span><span style="font-style: italic;"> UHaul</span> in tow.<br /><br />They're off to the great city of Chicago (imagine if New York City had an affair with Boston and birthed a pleasant land of in-betweens - only with lesser legendary baseball offspring ... may those black socks rest in tattered pieces "<a href="http://www.chicagohs.org/history/blacksox/joe.html">Shoeless Joe</a>") to begin new lives.<br /><br />New lines of work.<br /><br />New turning points.<br /><br />Goodbye, Austin, for some.<br /><br />For others, like ourselves, change is a new neighborhood. A new piece of property in the same city. Ownership and all of its powerful symbolism: "No, we don't rent. We own." Any questions? So, put that in your peace-pipe and smoke it.<br /><br />There's a certain arrogance you can't deny when you enter the rich kingdom of property ownership. No longer down with the serfs. <span style="font-style: italic;"><br /><br />Nobility</span>.<br /><br />The <span style="font-style: italic;">American Dream</span> now one large multi-scoop ice-cream soda with two colorful straws dipped into each end.<br /><br />Now ... start sucking.<br /><br />It's not all bad.<br /><br />It's something called an investment, right? It ensures you have something to turn around and sell to make even more money later on down the road.<br /><br />Remember when property was for living in, though? Growing up in? Calling it a home? Is this notion really that so far removed from current reality? I rather enjoyed growing up in our modest Indian Village abode. Three bedroom, two bath, Cape-style home. The house never was sold for profit ... until <span style="font-style: italic;">AFTER</span> the divorce.<br /><br />"The times they are a-changin' ", as a far superior muse once observed.<br /><br />But we adapt.<br /><br />Regardless of the missteps and the painful downfalls that may result when an entire nation decides to self-induce<span style="font-style: italic;">-amnesia</span> while speeding along the Capitalist fast-track. Some of us don't survive it, but most go on to change the rules, adapt s'more and redraw the schematics of falling down and getting back up all over again. So we can inevitably repeat the process <span style="font-style: italic;">ad infinitum</span> only perhaps more creatively next time...<br /><br />(Right now? Witness the many <span style="font-style: italic;">Fallen</span> trying to get back up.)<br /><br />Not us, though.<br /><br />No strong ARMs to wrestle, no <span style="font-style: italic;">double-real-estate-agents</span> to drag to criminal court, no <span style="font-style: italic;">sub</span>-titles nor 'left or right' liens to contend with. Everything checks out. Just a house. Plain and simple. Needs paint. Needs minor repairs. Needs warm bodies to adjust its temperament. Once those things are in place we begin the...<br /><br />We begin the <span style="font-style: italic;">what</span> exactly?<br /><br />The waiting game? The actual "<span style="font-style: italic;">living</span>" that everybody talks about but never truly knows when they've actually arrived there? The having-it-all aspiration? That <span style="font-style: italic;">American Dream</span>-thing again?<br /><br />But, the "what" exactly I know not? Admittedly, I'm quite perplexed behind all of the property ownership hullabaloo at times.<br /><br />Sure, now we can <span style="font-style: italic;">FIX</span> the property up. We can add the additions, grow the gardens, and paint the painterly color schemes without answering to anyone but ourselves, the professionals and the <span style="font-style: italic;">Home Despots</span> of the world.<br /><br />Ahhh, the sweet smell of <span style="font-style: italic;">... cash flow!<br /><br /></span>True this is what we were all inculcated with when we were 'growing up'. We weren't "adults" until these basics were acquired, right? Prince & Princess Charming's entitlement? Glorious regal castles? Two carriage stables? And the impish garbled burblings of many tiny serfs' feet yet to come that eventually may inherit the joint...?<br /><br />Unless they decide to sell it. And move to tonier castles in bigger kingdoms, of course.<br /><br />Ah, America. <span style="font-style: italic;">Dog! Fetch me my slippers!</span><br /><br />I am not <span style="font-style: italic;">really </span>property ownership averse - although, I once claimed <span style="font-style: italic;">Socialism</span> as my political point of view many awkward and naive <span style="font-style: italic;">twenty-something</span><span style="font-style: italic;">-ago</span> years past (Billy Bragg have you married and passed the torch-song to a younger squire yet?) - but I do have my issues I suppose.<br /><br />No doubt I am settling into the notion of <span style="font-style: italic;">ownership</span> in the real (estate) sense. I can't wait to set the cannons up on the parapets, wave the <span style="font-style: italic;">coat-of-arms</span> banner and have the unalienable right to shoot the god-awful snot out of any bastard trespassing on my <span style="font-style: italic;">gulldarn</span> land (<span style="font-style: italic;">sniiiiiiiiiiif! Puh-chaw!</span>).<br /><br />But, I won't easily forget the walks through Nagog Pond Woods when I was a kid with fellow naifs Steve, Tim and Chris either.<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Nor will I forgive certain lack of foresight.</span><br /><br />Swimming, unmolested, by any site-lines to civilization's encroaching progress. Forest trees, pine-needle bed footpaths, <span style="font-style: italic;">reservoir</span> clean water, the acrobatics of birds, and the challenge of watching many mysteries unfold.<br /><br />Feeling far away from the human numbers. Tucked away in the comfortable silence of country woods! Truly free. Or, a reasonable facsimile thereof.<br /><br />A special spot carved out of sand and smooth, black-lichened rocks.<br /><br />A rope swing.<br /><br />A shouting contest, "How many is a duck!" belly-flops and hysterical laughter.<br /><br />Soaking wet, white trunks and a tender, nubile beauty tanning herself on a flat, sun-baked stone, giggling, "Your underwear! It's blue!"<br /><br />"I know! I like blue! Do you?"<br /><br />Bronze skin gives way to roses and cherry-red blush.<br /><br />Quietly now, like the <span style="font-style: italic;">shushing</span> breeze on that rippled water, "I like blue..."<br /><br />A swim to the island half way across the lake. The black, slithering serpent that swam right towards us as we crossed, head and tongue bobbing and flickering ferociously as it deviled its way on the waters surface.<br /><br />Then seeing it, rather suddenly and surreptitiously ... submerge. Six feet away from our splashing swimmers set. Sliding under our bellies. Scaled-skin fanning at our legs and toes. Sparing us the shock-inducing nip as we invaded its secret waters...<br /><br />"Holy, shit! Did you see that!? Did you see that!?! It's right underneath us! Swim! Faster! SWIM!!!"<br /><br />Then one summer...<br /><br />The first <span style="font-style: italic;">Castle</span> appeared.<br /><br />Too close to <span style="font-style: italic;">our</span> Spot.<br /><br />Too close to <span style="font-style: italic;">our</span> Rope.<br /><br />Too close to <span style="font-style: italic;">our</span> Island.<br /><br />Too close to <span style="font-style: italic;">our</span> serpentine swimming stretch.<br /><br />Too close!<br /><br />Just too <span style="font-style: italic;">damned</span> close.<br /><br />A fence and a sign followed.<br /><br />A complete stranger's <span style="font-style: italic;">Verboten </span>pushing itself mercilessly into our previously respected boundaries. Telling us that the path we took every summer to get down to the Pond was no longer an option.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">MA</span>nifest <span style="font-weight: bold;">D</span>esti<span style="font-weight: bold;">N</span>y <span style="font-weight: bold;">E</span>n<span style="font-weight: bold;">S</span>ue<span style="font-weight: bold;">S.</span><br /><br />The Pond was no longer a private swimming hole to young men and women, nor to their fancies and flirtations.<br /><br />It was instead:<br /><br />"Gorgeous lake front views at competitive rates!"<br /><br />...to the elite and uncaring.<br /><br />A marketing scheme. A dreadfully branded and off-limits picture-window-view estate for four, maybe five, people at most.<br /><br />Perhaps a yapping rat-terrier, or some spoiled <span style="font-style: italic;">Pomeranian</span>, "appreciated" those trappings, too...<br /><br />The rest of us ... us <span style="font-style: italic;">peasants</span>? <span style="font-style: italic;"><br /><br />"Let them eat Lake!"</span><br /><br />We watched one of the many things magical and inspiring about being youthful, full of whimsy, and spirited dissolve away in just under the course of a year.<br /><br />Change was afoot elsewhere, too, in our little home town.<br /><br />Growing up fast indeed.<br /><br />Real fast!<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">More than a foot</span> at a time as those <span style="font-style: italic;">oh-we'll-put-better-zoning-rules- in-place-next-year </span>town hall promises fell into thousands of uncontrolled, unconscionably developed acres.<br /><br />The Minute Man Historical Trail devolved into "Minute Mansion Heights".<br /><br />Pacy's Egg Farm & Sweets begat "Pacy's Luxury Condos & Suites".<br /><br />The Acton Drive-In Movie theatre became ... ugh ... Digital Equipment Corporation (DEC). Job opportunities, you bet, but at what cost ultimately? (<span style="font-style: italic;">ed. - DEC has since declared Chapter 11 and said building has been unoccupied for the last ten years...</span> <span style="font-style: italic;">now a delightful spot for graffiti adverts!</span>)<br /><br />And, naturally, Nagog Pond followed suit and became what you'd already guessed ... a memory.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;">~~~~*~~~~<br /></div><br />I will raise a glass to our new home here in Austin, Texas.<br /><br />I will revel in its powerful meaning, its commanding rank, and its elitist, all-important symbolism.<br /><br />But I will also <span style="font-style: italic;">pray</span> that it never stood to bury the memories of anyone's most important years.Dennishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01779315037469105059noreply@blogger.com1