Today is Sunday, a day in the Christian calendar marked as the Sabbath (Saturday? I always wondered about that), where football, bombing of civilians in Asia and Africa, and Western Consumption to gluttonous extremes continues unabated. But stock markets are closed.
However, since Moslems and Jews are not big on Sundays, they do not have the same restraints on this day. So, I think that it is worth observing that it is without any historic diffidence to Christianity, that the Israeli stock markets decided to lay low on this Sunday, and not open for once. It makes sense. Tomorrow, Monday. could easily be the beginning of the eclipse of the economic system as we know it, the harsh beginning of the Cringing New World, the latest Great Depression in the US, the Chaos and Panic in the EU, the Wide Eyed Wonder and Tutt-tutting in the rest of the world; why let your own national markets plunge, little presumptuous, would you not say? let the economic superpowers take the lead: wait until Monday.
Sunday, August 7, 2011
Friday, August 5, 2011
Happy happy
My last entry was very sad indeed.
This is a very neglected blog -- and I had such hopes for it.
However, less grandiose aspiration, perhaps a tone more suited to an inner purpose of mine, and I will dare make occasional entries here.
"Rain"
Let's have a few words about rain.
We, here in New Mexico, have just lived through one of the worst spells of drought in living memory. Some counties dryer than in the worst years of the Dust Bowl. It was so dry that we even deservedly made the world news by almost having our nuclear bomb factory in Los Alamos ignite. A close call.
Meanwhile, vast acreage of beautiful forest turned to ash, the biggest forest fire in New Mexico history. And that's a history regularly punctuated with giant catastrophic forest fires, most and worst recently, since we are enduring the consequences of a century or two of misguided forest fire suppression policy, topped with "climate change", sometimes and otherwise referred to as global warming. The fires burned long and fiercely, but the laboratory and residential areas of Los Alamos were spared.
And now the monsoon has finally arrived. Wimpy, sporadic, hissing and rising in clouds of steam from the parched land, but rain nevertheless.
What we hoped for for so long has become a threat to a much wider area than the forest fire could ever have extended to. The rains, intense in some areas in the higher elevations, are pulling down huge swaths of ash from burned areas, chocking up the streams, killing all life in them, and diverting their courses by mulling up in parts and creating huge, black, squishy dams.
Worst of all, the water diverted and running loose, runs over sites contaminated by the nuclear lab in all the years past, and drags the life threatening pollutants to all the communities downstream: the Pueblos, Santa Fe, Española, and into the Rio Grande toward Albuquerque and beyond. Perhaps to Texas, perhaps to the Gulf of Mexico, perhaps to a beach near you on the sunny coasts of England, Ireland, and all at the receiving end of the Gulf Stream.
This is a very neglected blog -- and I had such hopes for it.
However, less grandiose aspiration, perhaps a tone more suited to an inner purpose of mine, and I will dare make occasional entries here.
"Rain"
Let's have a few words about rain.
We, here in New Mexico, have just lived through one of the worst spells of drought in living memory. Some counties dryer than in the worst years of the Dust Bowl. It was so dry that we even deservedly made the world news by almost having our nuclear bomb factory in Los Alamos ignite. A close call.
Meanwhile, vast acreage of beautiful forest turned to ash, the biggest forest fire in New Mexico history. And that's a history regularly punctuated with giant catastrophic forest fires, most and worst recently, since we are enduring the consequences of a century or two of misguided forest fire suppression policy, topped with "climate change", sometimes and otherwise referred to as global warming. The fires burned long and fiercely, but the laboratory and residential areas of Los Alamos were spared.
And now the monsoon has finally arrived. Wimpy, sporadic, hissing and rising in clouds of steam from the parched land, but rain nevertheless.
What we hoped for for so long has become a threat to a much wider area than the forest fire could ever have extended to. The rains, intense in some areas in the higher elevations, are pulling down huge swaths of ash from burned areas, chocking up the streams, killing all life in them, and diverting their courses by mulling up in parts and creating huge, black, squishy dams.
Worst of all, the water diverted and running loose, runs over sites contaminated by the nuclear lab in all the years past, and drags the life threatening pollutants to all the communities downstream: the Pueblos, Santa Fe, Española, and into the Rio Grande toward Albuquerque and beyond. Perhaps to Texas, perhaps to the Gulf of Mexico, perhaps to a beach near you on the sunny coasts of England, Ireland, and all at the receiving end of the Gulf Stream.
Thursday, June 16, 2011
great sadness
I'm off-line these days -- hardware failure -- so sad, so sad. A (one hundred mile) round trip to Best Buy is called for.
Thursday, May 19, 2011
Wayne 1
It was late afternoon. We stood on Wayne’s porch enjoying the cool breeze; the children were milling around with the dogs and horses in the paddock: shrieking, barking, neighing.
"Government," said Wayne, "government..."
I actually had not mentioned government, but muttered a slight "hmm?", as to encourage him to complete his thought.
“See that slope?” said my imaginary friend, pointing at the side of the mountain facing us, still visible in the failing light. “See anything wrong with that? Looks pretty darn good, doesn’t it.”
It looked undeniably good. It rose to a few hundred feet above the valley where we stood: mainly Ponderosa, some Spruce, occasional patches of bright green first-growth Aspen, perhaps sites of small long-ago fires.
“Yes, nice. What about it.”
“I look after that,” he said. “The wood you buy from me in the fall each year? It all comes from those slopes. Year after year. Still looks good though, doesn’t it”.
“Yes, well,” I replied,” that’s because you know what you’re doing.”
“So I don’t need no environmentalists, tree huggers, regulators, Indians, forest experts, commin’ here telling me what to do.”
“But that’s just you. Another person would make a mess, clear-cut, make landslides, torch it, drive all over it...”
“I drive all over it,” said Wayne.
“Still, you probably don’t destroy the watercourses, churn up the whole place and scare the owls.”
“Yeah, right. I say who needs those owls.”
Wayne never used the word “fuck” or any other obscenity in his talk. He wasn’t that kind of cowboy. But here, “fucking” was clearly a missing adjective before the word “owls“.
“Too many animals in these valleys. Elk and deer destroy the pastures before the cows can get to them in spring. But you try culling them...”
“Me? No, I’m a vegetarian.”
“I don’t mean you, I mean you try culling them.”
“There is a hunting season.”
“And I take out as many as I can get in my sights. As many as my permit allows...Take all that Elk, every one, get rid of them, send them to France, they would love them there, love them to death, with luck.”
We stood in silence for a while. The kids retreated up on to the paddock railings and were wiping horse shit of their legs and sneakers.
"Government," said Wayne, "government...they want to take care of me, but they don't take care of what really matters. You know, a lot of things just don't get talked about. Did you know that gay illegal aliens come here and get married, adopt some of our children, take every job that there is, then take the adopted children, load them with explosives and send them into government buildings, airports and the like for Al Qaeda? Does anyone dare mention that?"
"No. Is that true? I didn't know that."
"Government," said Wayne, "government..."
I actually had not mentioned government, but muttered a slight "hmm?", as to encourage him to complete his thought.
“See that slope?” said my imaginary friend, pointing at the side of the mountain facing us, still visible in the failing light. “See anything wrong with that? Looks pretty darn good, doesn’t it.”
It looked undeniably good. It rose to a few hundred feet above the valley where we stood: mainly Ponderosa, some Spruce, occasional patches of bright green first-growth Aspen, perhaps sites of small long-ago fires.
“Yes, nice. What about it.”
“I look after that,” he said. “The wood you buy from me in the fall each year? It all comes from those slopes. Year after year. Still looks good though, doesn’t it”.
“Yes, well,” I replied,” that’s because you know what you’re doing.”
“So I don’t need no environmentalists, tree huggers, regulators, Indians, forest experts, commin’ here telling me what to do.”
“But that’s just you. Another person would make a mess, clear-cut, make landslides, torch it, drive all over it...”
“I drive all over it,” said Wayne.
“Still, you probably don’t destroy the watercourses, churn up the whole place and scare the owls.”
“Yeah, right. I say who needs those owls.”
Wayne never used the word “fuck” or any other obscenity in his talk. He wasn’t that kind of cowboy. But here, “fucking” was clearly a missing adjective before the word “owls“.
“Too many animals in these valleys. Elk and deer destroy the pastures before the cows can get to them in spring. But you try culling them...”
“Me? No, I’m a vegetarian.”
“I don’t mean you, I mean you try culling them.”
“There is a hunting season.”
“And I take out as many as I can get in my sights. As many as my permit allows...Take all that Elk, every one, get rid of them, send them to France, they would love them there, love them to death, with luck.”
We stood in silence for a while. The kids retreated up on to the paddock railings and were wiping horse shit of their legs and sneakers.
"Government," said Wayne, "government...they want to take care of me, but they don't take care of what really matters. You know, a lot of things just don't get talked about. Did you know that gay illegal aliens come here and get married, adopt some of our children, take every job that there is, then take the adopted children, load them with explosives and send them into government buildings, airports and the like for Al Qaeda? Does anyone dare mention that?"
"No. Is that true? I didn't know that."
Monday, May 16, 2011
Wayne
Wayne is a cowboy; he lives up in the high country, home schools his brood, herds cows, wears chaps, funny boots, beaten up black hats, and holds strict right-wing political views. His wife is a nice woman, and does not have big hair. Dirt poor, forever scrambling for odd jobs, he beamed with pride when I once commented on a statement of his:
"Spoken like a true capitalist," I said.
He furrowed his brows when I spoke of Cuba's medical statistics.
"Castro? Fidel? Yeah, right."
On Native Americans:
"Assimilate. Why can't they just assimilate."
But, he didn't shoot me, ever, like I never pulled his hair in spite. Must like me a bit, like I like him, a bit.
His name is not really Wayne, it's worse than that. And some of the details I mentioned above are both true and false, but be assured of both his unique and multiple existence.
I rarely see him any more. Our children used to be friends, but they drifted apart as they grew into their teens, separated by lifestyle choices, and political views. Yes, all our children are "political". My daughter plays in chess tournaments, winces as she streaks between the front door and the car door on her way to public education, his rides in rodeos, and gallops through driving blizzards astride hoofed animals. They could find common ground, but they don't search for it. They are both champions in their chosen areas, neither boasts of triumphs in front of the other. They are "friends" on Facebook, but never linger on each other’s walls.
I use Wayne the way I use imaginary Moslems, Jews, Christians, Commies, realtors, or fanatics at the end of any spectrum, to have these worrying discussions with, where I can attribute to them absurd views, which I assume they hold, and then demolish them (their views that is).
I will let you know what stupid things I think on Wayne’s behalf in the next blog installment.
"Spoken like a true capitalist," I said.
He furrowed his brows when I spoke of Cuba's medical statistics.
"Castro? Fidel? Yeah, right."
On Native Americans:
"Assimilate. Why can't they just assimilate."
But, he didn't shoot me, ever, like I never pulled his hair in spite. Must like me a bit, like I like him, a bit.
His name is not really Wayne, it's worse than that. And some of the details I mentioned above are both true and false, but be assured of both his unique and multiple existence.
I rarely see him any more. Our children used to be friends, but they drifted apart as they grew into their teens, separated by lifestyle choices, and political views. Yes, all our children are "political". My daughter plays in chess tournaments, winces as she streaks between the front door and the car door on her way to public education, his rides in rodeos, and gallops through driving blizzards astride hoofed animals. They could find common ground, but they don't search for it. They are both champions in their chosen areas, neither boasts of triumphs in front of the other. They are "friends" on Facebook, but never linger on each other’s walls.
I use Wayne the way I use imaginary Moslems, Jews, Christians, Commies, realtors, or fanatics at the end of any spectrum, to have these worrying discussions with, where I can attribute to them absurd views, which I assume they hold, and then demolish them (their views that is).
I will let you know what stupid things I think on Wayne’s behalf in the next blog installment.
Monday, May 9, 2011
The erased ones
I realize, of course, that the images, which I posted below, have now become iconic. They do represent different things to different people; some interpretations and reactions are most odd. I have recently become aware how anti-woman Orthodox Judaism is. Here where I live, there is a "progressive" Jewish faction, who's Rabbi is a woman. One step ahead of most Christian factions. She appears to be a "shining light" of tolerance, engages in cross cultural, religious, and denominational exchanges, engaging her own, and also Moslem and Christian groups (though I imagine that both Jews and Moslems are few in number in our valley).
I have heard that there is a drive by the Orthodox to have women sit in the backs of buses in Israeli cities, but that at least acknowledges their existence, somewhere...back there. Today, I read that in a US Jewish daily (Der Tzitung), both Hillary Clinton and the other woman lurking in the back of the group have been photoshopped out. The very image of a woman is considered so unacceptable, perhaps provoking uncontrollable lust in members of that particular congregation, that it needs to be erased. How do they deal with men who lust after other men, I wonder. Nothing but luscious hunks in that photo.
I still do not quite connect how societies like that, but especially ones with strong fundamentalist Moslem elements, manage to produce women leaders. They seem to occur in Moslem nations more frequently than in the US, and several other "Western/Christian" nations. Israel too, after all, had Golda Meir. I assume that this extremism is a recent trend, and perhaps is growing in strength to counter the world-wide rise of women in all areas. At best, it will soon become overwhelmingly apparent, that societies that are successful are ones where women are allowed to realize their potential, and that their success will be so overwhelming that they will make flaccid all those little retro dicks
I have heard that there is a drive by the Orthodox to have women sit in the backs of buses in Israeli cities, but that at least acknowledges their existence, somewhere...back there. Today, I read that in a US Jewish daily (Der Tzitung), both Hillary Clinton and the other woman lurking in the back of the group have been photoshopped out. The very image of a woman is considered so unacceptable, perhaps provoking uncontrollable lust in members of that particular congregation, that it needs to be erased. How do they deal with men who lust after other men, I wonder. Nothing but luscious hunks in that photo.
I still do not quite connect how societies like that, but especially ones with strong fundamentalist Moslem elements, manage to produce women leaders. They seem to occur in Moslem nations more frequently than in the US, and several other "Western/Christian" nations. Israel too, after all, had Golda Meir. I assume that this extremism is a recent trend, and perhaps is growing in strength to counter the world-wide rise of women in all areas. At best, it will soon become overwhelmingly apparent, that societies that are successful are ones where women are allowed to realize their potential, and that their success will be so overwhelming that they will make flaccid all those little retro dicks
Sunday, May 8, 2011
(Tragic) Situation Room situation
Nice one.
It turns out that this photograph of Obama, Hillary et all watching "Osama Death Live" was staged. The connection with the camera mounted into one of the Seals' helmets was long lost, in fact all those folks looking clearly in awe of the historic drama unfolding before them were at that very moment feeling most irritated by the fact that they did not know anything about what was happening in distant Abbottsabad. Very good acting indeed, considering that there must have been some distracting tension in the room: was the extrajudicial murder going as planned? (The official version tells us: The photos show the President consulting with Defense Secretary Robert Gates, Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff Admiral Mike Mullen, Vice President Joe Biden, and Secretary of State Hillary Clinton among others. Some photos are very intense, such as the photo (...below...) which shows the entire team intensely focused on a screen while they all receive live updates on the operation. Other photos show the President clearly under an enormous amount of stress in the final hours of the operation. The actual raid (...) lasted only 40 minutes.(...) None of the United States service members in the operation were killed or injured. The major objective of the operation was clearly the capture or killing of "Geronimo," the code name for Osama bin Laden. In the last minutes of the attack the President and the rest of the team were informed that "Geronimo" was "KIA.")
Ah yes, Geronimo.
Clinton is the best: hand clasped over mouth is a masterful touch. Obama wins first for subtlety, almost humble, as if hidden in a discreet corner of the room, but on closer inspection sternly focused, clearly in charge of Western Civilization and its destiny. Others are either overacting or looking a bit embarrassed, Biden seems not to have understood his instructions and appears to be watching a B&W Ronald Regan movie.
Here, a reaction:
Candice Mathers
"So fascinating that the intelligence gotten from Waterboarding...which all Navy seals must do to get their credential...is what helped our cia and military find Bin Laden. I thank George W for this and Obama for having the balls to do a covert operation and to not trust Pakistan--a country that should never be trusted again! Thank God for Waterboarding which should always be used when Innocent lives are at stake!"
Innocent is capitalized, because Innocent R-us.
It turns out that this photograph of Obama, Hillary et all watching "Osama Death Live" was staged. The connection with the camera mounted into one of the Seals' helmets was long lost, in fact all those folks looking clearly in awe of the historic drama unfolding before them were at that very moment feeling most irritated by the fact that they did not know anything about what was happening in distant Abbottsabad. Very good acting indeed, considering that there must have been some distracting tension in the room: was the extrajudicial murder going as planned? (The official version tells us: The photos show the President consulting with Defense Secretary Robert Gates, Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff Admiral Mike Mullen, Vice President Joe Biden, and Secretary of State Hillary Clinton among others. Some photos are very intense, such as the photo (...below...) which shows the entire team intensely focused on a screen while they all receive live updates on the operation. Other photos show the President clearly under an enormous amount of stress in the final hours of the operation. The actual raid (...) lasted only 40 minutes.(...) None of the United States service members in the operation were killed or injured. The major objective of the operation was clearly the capture or killing of "Geronimo," the code name for Osama bin Laden. In the last minutes of the attack the President and the rest of the team were informed that "Geronimo" was "KIA.")
Ah yes, Geronimo.
Clinton is the best: hand clasped over mouth is a masterful touch. Obama wins first for subtlety, almost humble, as if hidden in a discreet corner of the room, but on closer inspection sternly focused, clearly in charge of Western Civilization and its destiny. Others are either overacting or looking a bit embarrassed, Biden seems not to have understood his instructions and appears to be watching a B&W Ronald Regan movie.
Here, a reaction:
Candice Mathers"So fascinating that the intelligence gotten from Waterboarding...which all Navy seals must do to get their credential...is what helped our cia and military find Bin Laden. I thank George W for this and Obama for having the balls to do a covert operation and to not trust Pakistan--a country that should never be trusted again! Thank God for Waterboarding which should always be used when Innocent lives are at stake!"
Innocent is capitalized, because Innocent R-us.
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