Herman, Herman, Herman

Oh, Hermie, Baby.  Give it up. You went about this all wrong.  You should have put on your pimp hat and shiny suit and trotted out all your stable of ladies – those you harassed and now your long-time mistress. 

Go ahead.  Play the race card.  Be bold.  Claim them all as your Ladies.  Then tell your rich white Republican pals that they wouldn’t understand, it’s a Black Thing.

Instead, you wimped out.  Denied everything then grabbed the Wussy White Pol’s classic cop out – “If I do quit, it’ll be . . . for the sake of my family.”

For the sake of your family?  Oh, pluuueeeze.  Your wife should have handed you a slice of pizza and told you to “eat your vegetable,” then booted your sorry behind out the door years ago.

Now, Shoo.  Go away.  Thank you.

Speaking of Running 

Run – do not walk or saunter – run down to Santa Maria to the John Hancock College’s Marian Theatre for PCPA’s new production of “A Christmas Carol.” 

The play, with Music and lyrics by David De Berry, was directed by Mark Booher, and is wonderfully different than any other production of “Carol” that I’d seen before.  It’s a musical but not the usual big Broadway boomer.  Instead, the songs, many of which sound like old Victorian Christmas carols, or were adapted from same, acted as a fully integrated enrichment to support Dicken’s wonderful language and dialogue, not upstage it. The result is a perfect blend of music and text. Add in a terrific cast at the top of its form, a fabulous set design, beautifully designed costumes and choreography, and superb lighting that becomes a critical part of the drama and you have a truly outstanding production.

I’ve never seen a bad play at PCPA and this one was one of the best.  Do yourself a favor and go see it.  Perfect way to start the holiday season with a happy heart.  www.PCPA.org.  It’s running through Dec 23.    

Sunday Trip

If you've got holiday company and are alooking for a nice morning trip, I suggest a drive up to San Miguel Mission.  The restoration work to repair the damage from the earthquake a few years ago is done.  Even the experts at the Getty got involved to preserve the lovely 1820 frescoes.

   

You can stroll around the courtyards, and grounds.  They even have two mud ovens, though none that look like a giant bear.






There's even a rather bare and sad cemetery where over 2,000 Mission Indians are buried.


And, of course, the requesite antique-looking adobe fountain.

Then Go See Hugo

If  you love movies, Martin Scorsese's new film, Hugo is a must-see.  Avatar and now Hugo are two films where the filmakers really understood how to fully utilize the visual mechanics and qualities of 3-D.  For too many films, 3-D is simply an excuse to add a few bucks to the ticket and throw a few things at the audience.  Or, worse yet, ignore the story altogether and spend the big bucks, not on a great script, but on whiz-bang roller-coaster effects which become as repetitive and uninteresting as a Whirly-Gig ride at the fair after a few minutes.

Not James Cameron, not Martin Scorsese.  They're storytelling makers of moving pictures first and formost and in both films they have created an entire world and invited the viewer to step into that world, not merely sit in a theatre seat and have things tossed out at them.  Huge difference.

As USA Today puts it, Hugo is "a wonderous blend of fantasy and mystery that will appeal to adults as well as children."

But be warned.  There were previews before the movie and it seems George Lucas intends on 3-D-ing his first (actually 3rd) Star Wars movie, (Phantom Menace.)  Trust me, no amount of 3-D can save that film. Or the next one.  I mean, does anyone think 3-D will improve Jar-Jar Binks?  Me thinks not.

And the original, 1977 first Star Wars is perfect as it is.  Gilding that perfect lily is a waste of time.

And if you're in the mood for a far darker film, catch "Take Shelter" at the Palm.  This acting tour de force is compelling, disturbing, riveting portrait of a man coming undone.  Or is he?  Take shelter, indeed.

Happy Thanksgiving

Take a breath, take a walk, hug your kids, hug your dog, visit a neighbor, call a friend, bless the day, bless the food, bless the world. 

And have a happy thanksgiving.  

Yossarian Lives!

 Ron Crawford, over at Sewerwatch ( www.Sewerwatch.blogspot.com  ) has completed a hilarious second round of puzzle-solving.  This one involving former BOS Katcho Kachadjian, he of the public crocodile tears and private “as little as possible” Chinatown ethos.

  Well, who can blame him.  Katcho’s punched his Ambition Ticket and moved on up to play with the big boys in Sacramento and you don’t get into that game unless you’re willing to ask no questions, and when asked to request a very simple, highly focused audit to answer a few simple questions on the State Revolving Fund (all fully documented with supporting documentation), your response will be to do “as little as possible,” or, preferably, nothing at all.  

If you want to know why The 99% hate “government,” Ron’s posting will show you why.  The public, official letters contrasted with the semi-private, wink-nudge casual e-mail exchanges are particularly telling.  It’s all a delicious mash-up of Through the Looking Glass and Catch 22.  Part III of this funny/tragic story will pick up again on January first, when Ron contacts the new “independent” state auditor and starts his “Waltz me Around Again, Willie” round of inquiries.  My bet is the nice lady heading up the new office is already firmly in the Chinatown loop. 

As usual, the local media, Tribune, New Times, Cal Coast News, all of ‘em are also into Chinatown mode.  For a politician, doing as little as possible, especially when it’s all about covering one’s ass, is understandable.  But for the “ watchdog press?”   

Spray Your Troubles Away

I love American snark.  No sooner had campus policeman Lt. John Pike sprayed seated, non-violent, non-threatening Occupy Wall Street protesters at the UC Davis campus, than some wag whipped out PhotoShop and there was Mr. Pike cakewalking through art history.  It was a deliciously satirical take to a needlessly savage act. ( at Huffington Post  www.huffingtonpost.com ) 

The visual symbolism of the real spraying is certainly telling – the absolute contempt, the indifference to the damage about to be done, the pain inflicted -- Mr. Pike as The Exterminator about to poison the bugs at his feet.  It was also an image that evoked the 1960’s, with Sheriff  Bull Connor blasting civil rights demonstrators with high-powered fire hoses.

As an icon of how the 1% views the 99%, Officer Pike dancing through art history doesn’t get any better than that. Let them eat cake. Pike is also a great reminder that things do not change much.  Power does what power does, even in a country whose government professes to derive its power from . . . We the People.  You know, those folks on the ground getting pepper sprayed in the face. 

Creepy Time

You’re only as sick as your secrets, and after watching Clint Eastwood’s new movie, it’s obvious that J. Edgar Hoover was one sick puppy.  Dangerous, too boot.  So that old maxim should be changed to read. “You’re only as sick and dangerous as your secrets,” and Hoover hand and kept many, many secrets.

Clearly, Director Clint Eastwood in his old age hasn’t mellowed.  He seems to be getting downright flinty, Gran Torino-get-off-my-lawn crabby – gimlet-eyed comes to mind.  Which makes this film extremely odd. 

For over two hours, he absolutely savages Hoover with an unblinking eye.  The man was sick, obsessed, seriously weird, dangerous, phony. The movie is filmed in the cold, icy light and grey, washed-out color Eastwood used in a previous film, “Changeling,” which drops the temperature of the theatre to zero and makes all the characters look like the vampires from “Twilight” have already paid them a visit and sucked all the life and blood out of them.

Then, in the middle of this ice-cold, savagely, almost satirically cruel movie, Eastwood proceed to tell us a tender . . . love story. The effect is absolutely disorienting.

Worse, the relentless, intimate focus of the camera puts the viewer into the very uncomfortable position of being a voyeur watching two hours of  intimate, embarrassing unmasking of a failed, sad soul – his good deeds soon buried with him and his appalling weirdness left standing as his malign monument.  Then at the end, we’re supposed to be moved to sympathy for this twisted sister  because he supposedly had at least had one real, true thing in his life: His need for and love for his long-time companion Clyde Tolson.
 But even that romance was hard to believe because it was impossible for me to believe these characters were whole enough to feel anything called “love.”  Neurotic need, self-serving manipulation, folie a deux, toxic attachment, yes.  Love?  Not so much.
  Not to mention, I had real trouble overcoming all the surrounding  ice to see much of anything redeeming about any of these characters.  Hoover and Tolson lived a life of lies, Hoover’s assistant, Helen Gandy, (played by Naomi Watts) was a world-class enabler who stood by her boss as he trashed the law and trampled on the Constitution and grew to wield such power that he could threaten Presidents.
In his earlier movie, “Unforgiven,” a young man says to Easwtood’s character, after witnessing a killing, “Yeah, well, I guess he had it coming.”  To which Eastwood replied, “We all have it coming, Kid.”

In J. Edgar,  perhaps Eastwood has found the perfect illustration of what may be Clint’s ultimate pronouncement on the world.

Amazon Games

If you’ve ever ordered a book from Amazon and wondered about the “star” ratings and “reviews,” well, Los Osos writer Anne R. Allen has a great new blog on writing,  www.annerallen.blogspot.com and has posted a great tell-all as to how that system works. Publishing is changing quickly now, so if you’re still thinking Publishers, hard-bound books, bookstores, etc,.  here’s a chance to Zoom! into what’s really going on.  It's a great read.

          

Your Sunday Haiku

Reddish morning sky . . .
    Rain for you today
    I guess,
Lucky little snail!
                   Issa

Paper Bag Time

Calhoun’s Cannons for Nov 16, 11

I watched as many of the Republican debates as I could stand without having to arrest myself for cruel and inhumane punishment, something candidate Michelle Bachman is four-square in favor of. So it’s clear to me its paper-bag-over-the-head time because nobody has any sense of shame any more since most of the candidates are suffering from The Sarah Palin Syndrome: no real-world assessment of self except some glowing, aggrandized version of, “ Of course I’m qualified to be President! I’m Wonderful Me!”

Even worse, I don’t think the public has any sense of shame either, which likely comes from too many people watching too many Mean-Girl, Gong-Show “reality” programs. In that world, talent-bereft, unqualified, humiliation-proof narcissists are the norm. And when those shameless characters show up on the political/public stage, the voters clearly don’t hear alarm bells going off in their heads. I mean, in a sane world, most of the Republican candidates wouldn’t have any poll numbers higher than zero.

So, it’s paper bag time for cowboy Rick Perry. He can’t even remember what he’s supposed to be adamantly opposed to. This is a guy whose brain can barely manage to operate on bumper-sticker slogans. Paper bag over the head for him.

And Newt? Really? Newt? He’s a hack who truly knows no shame. His overweening sense of his own wonderfulness has allowed him to shamelessly spend years turning up like a bad penny to haul his tired old failed ideas out of his portmanteau for all who will listen, blissfully unaware that the sane people in his audience are rictus-smiling and nervously edging out of their seats. Shhh, don’t make any sudden moves. Keep smiling. The door’s that way. That guy has so much shameful baggage, he doesn’t need a paper bag. He needs a Luis Vuitton suitcase the size of New Jersey, all charged to his $500,000 revolving Tiffany account. Paper bag him.

Ditto for Herman Cain. He needs a whole lot of paper bags to carry the lists of names of all the ladies who are coming out of the woodwork to complain of his improper canoodling. Plus, during a sit-down with newspaper editors from the Milwaukee Journal Sentinel, he apparently had trouble understanding which Lybia was under discussion. Oh, Gaddafi, right, you mean that Lybia? In a reasonable world, his polling numbers would be minus-zero

As for More Water-boarding Michelle? Please. Paper bag.

And it doesn’t stop with presidential candidates. Jack Abramoff has hired some big PR flaks and will soon be staging a comeback. You remember Casino Jack, corrupt and corrupting lobbyist who would sell his grandmother to his mother then sell them both down the river? Major player in Bush’s Washington who has been spending time in jail for his efforts? Well, he’s coming baaaaccckkkk. And, unlike Nixon’s hatchet-man, Charles Colson, who found God while in prison, while Jack is claming a similar enlightenment, he isn’t planning to return to a quiet life of private penance for his sins. Oh, no. Jack’s back. Shameless. No paper bags for him. But will the public care? Will they boo and hiss and demand he go away? Not likely. Not in “Jersey Shore America.”

Not in Penn State America, either. Before the growing list of victims has even been identified, the alleged molester, Jerry Sandusky, appears on TV brazenly soft-soaping and justifying his behavior as “horseplay,” while the first reaction to all this by some Penn State students was to riot to protest the firing of their legendary Coach who did “as little as possible” to protect the boys, thereby doing “as much as possible” to protect the man who was preying on them. And now everyone is changing their stories, scrambling to cover their bare behinds with gym towels that are now suddenly the size of a micron.

Have we really come to this? Has our common sense, our basic sense of decency, our critical sense of what’s real versus what’s fake been so corrupted that we no longer know the difference? Or care? If so, then it’s time to bring back the paper bag.

In the Nov. 24 Rolling Stone magazine article, Matt Taibbi observes that the Occupy Wall Street movement “was always about something much bigger than a movement against big banks and modern finance. It’s about providing a forum for people to show how tired they are not just of Wall Street, but everything. This is a visceral, impassioned, deep-seated rejection of the entire direction of our society, a refusal to take even one more step forward into the shallow commercial abyss of phoniness, short-term calculation, withered idealism and intellectual bankruptcy that American mass society has become. If there is such a thing as going on strike from one’s own culture, this is it.”

Gold star for Matt. He’s got it just about right.

Return to Camp Ocean Pines

Last year, volunteers showed up at Camp Ocean Pines in Cambria one weekend, to help decorate an ampitheatre that had also been built by volunteers.  The staff hosted a "thank you" lunch plus tours of the camground this Sunday. The patio even included a real live scarecrow to greet visitors. And, yes, I do mean "live."

The camp is an extraordinary place, a former YMCA camp, now transformed into a multiple-use site that brings school kids from all over te county to a beautiful natural area to learn about the environment and engage in hands-on outdoor lessons.  It's also an old-fashioned summer camp with volunteers constantly raising money to offer scholarships for undrprivledged kids so they too can have that valuable camp experience.  And it serves as a base for all sorts of retreats, conferences and special creative workshops. Including a mosaic workshop that culminated in the ampitheatre decorating project.

And volunteer, hands-on help is how the ampitheatre came to be built -- a special project of a group of engineers.  When the concrete seats were done and the flagstones mounted on it, that's when the mosaic volunteers moved in to decorate the cracks with all kinds of sparklies!

Both the tops of the seats are the stairs down to the stage were flagstone with all the mosaic placed inbetween. In additon, each of the rows of seats were all color coordinated, which makes it easy to direct bunch of people who can be told they're to sit in the blue row, or the green row.

The camp is busy planning new projects, including building needed bathrooms and -- how cool is this -- they're planning a zipline to take kids zooming throught he tree tops.

All of this incredible work depends on the support of volunteers and donors to keep this program going.  If you'd like to help support their activities -- like help sponsor a kid so he or she can have a camp experience that would be otherwise unavaible to them, visit http://www.campoceanpines.org/ or call (805)927-0254.  Christmas is comming as is the IRS end of charitible donations time period.  What better gift than to give a kid a Camp Ocean Pines experience. 

Red tailed hawk in his cage, watching visitors

 

Your Sunday Poem

This from "Of Gravity & Angels," by Jane Hirshfield.  Loved the sly reference to W.H. Auden's poem, "Musee des Beau Arts."

Osiris

They may tell you the god is broken
into a higher life,
but it isn't true:
the one who comes back remains,
even riveted, even pieced-
together in spring,
an always-broken god.
The knots survive in his body,
the clenched-grain scars.
And the iced winter ponds are real:
the children, skating lightly there,
feel a secret shiver
as they cross the blue places
of darkness rising-to-meet,
where the other face of the god
is looking up.   

Lou Tornatzky Heals Los Osos!

Feeling better? I sure am. Just go to http://recreatelososos.org/ and you too will be healed.

And if this website and this new organization, “ReCreate Los Osos,” sounds familiar, just click on links and you’ll see that “Celebrate Los Osos” is right there at the top of the list.

Yep, looks like The Pandorians are baaackkk. According to RCLO’s history, Los Osos is apparently in a serious funk, people wandering around long-faced and feeling so damaged and hurt by the Hideous Los Osos Sewer Wars that they’re seriously in need of “healing” that “would be accomplished, not by “rehashing our points of agreement or disagreements about the sewer. Rather, it would be accomplished by having fun together – projects, gatherings, music, plays, walks.” All of which would have to be free events since there will be about zero discretionary income left in this community due to the high cost of the sewer. But, you know the old behavior based marketing PR drill; plant a few photo-op trees and petunias, and get lots of pictures of good works in the paper, thereby making everyone feel “healed.” Smiley faces all ‘round.

But all I could think when reading through this website was the old folk saying, “Only one who has hidden under the bed himself thinks to look there first.” I mean, unless you somehow felt you had helped “injure” Los Osos in the first place, why would you feel the need to “heal” it? Makes no sense. Unless you’re suffering from some form of Pandorian Baron Munchausen Syndrome?

Well, by all means, let’s do have some fun together. But if you’re seriously interested in “healing” Los Osos, near as I can see you’d have to 1) rescind the CDOs on The Los Osos 45 and reimburse them for their expenses defending themselves and their homes; 2) have Jeffery Young, on behalf of the RWQCB write a sincere letter of apology to those 45; 3) fire Roger Briggs; 4) fire the entire RWQCB who deliberately refused to understand the real narrative on Los Osos and instead operated on a false Pandorian narrative, thereby making a bad situation a disaster; 5) reinstitute the MWH breach of contract lawsuit and finally find out just who did breach that contract; 6) hold a complete investigation and review/audit of this whole mess from day one, preferably conducted by the FBI, and let the chips fall where they may. The agents can start with Ron Crawford’s website, http://www.sewerwatch.blogspot.com/. and make sure they get an answer from the SWB as to his official filed complaint about the millions of dollars in the original SRF loan for “amenities” at Tri-W. He’s also got lots of other documents parked there the G-men can start on. Will make for fun reading.

THEN, when the results of that investigation are published, then and only then will we have the “healing” that comes from an accurate, verified, and complete narrative about this whole WTF? FUBAR’d mess instead of the smoldering swept-under-the-rug infected lump we've got now.

THAT’S how you “heal” Los Osos. But music, plays, walks? Eh, not so much.

Soup for a Rainy Sunday

Ah, chilly, wet, wonderful day.  Here's a yummy soup for such a day, from  http://www.bonappetit.com/  which I modified a bit. Feel free to mess around with the spices.  I did.   

Curried red lentil and swiss chard stew with garbanzo beans

2 tb olive oil
1 large onion, diced
3-4 cloves garlic, diced
5 teaspoons curry powder
  (can also add sweet paprika, garm masala, cumin, coriander, cloves etc. And can add cooked chicken chunks/shreds if you want a non-vegetarian dish. )
1/4 tsp cayenne pepper
salt and pepper to taste
3  14-oz cans chicken or vegetable broth (I used one 32 oz box of chicken stock)
1 large bunch or 2 small bunches Swiss chard, tough stalks removed, coarsely chopped.
1- 1/2c diced butternut squash 
1 pound red lentils (about 2 1/4 c)
1 15 oz can garbanzo beans, drained

Heat oil in heavy large stock pot over medium heat.  Add onion, garlic, saute until golden (about 13 min.) Mix in curry and spices, stir.  Add broth and squash and lentils (follow package directions on lentils)  Cook until squash and lentils are soft.  Add chard and garbanzos, cook about 10 min or more, until chard is soft.  

Can serve topped with a dollop of yogurt.  Makes 6-7  servings.

Oh, Give It Up, Won't You Part Duh

Poor Tammy Murray.  She's the lady who wants to open a Compassionate Cannabis Information Center and Dispensary in Oceano.  I know.  You're snickering already.  It's the start of the old Peanuts routine -- Lucy, Charlie and the football.

On Thursday, the SLO Planning Commissioners voted 4 - 1 to approve her request, which was in itself remarkable, since the BOS has made it absolutely clear they do not want a pot dispensary anywhere in the county.  So Ms. Murray will now spend more time and money on permits and plans and take this to the BOS wherein they'll find all kinds of excuses to dump the whole idea and send her back to the drawing board, again. 

Zwoop! football yanked. 

This little dance will continue until somebody -- Feds, State, somebody -- rethinks this law and decides what they want to do about pot in general, except continue with the ridiculous laws we have now, all wink-nudge with a few people getting hammered while others go free.  Like all our drug laws, it's hypocritical and, let's face it, insane, and ultimately creates a climate of cynical contempt for law itself. We know better than this, so we really do need to reconcile our hypocritical selves with our commonsense selves and thereby do a better job of governing ourselves in a very real imperfect world.  

Well, Don't Worry, It's Too Late Now.  

Actually, I guess the best thing to do now is to toke up.  The AP reports that "The global output of heat-trapping crabon dioxide jumped by the biggest amount on record .  . . a sign of how feeble the world's efforts are at slowing man-made global warming.  . . . The new figures for 2010 mean that levels of greenhouse gasses are higher than the worst-case scenario outlined by climate experts just four years ago."

In other words, we have already screwed the pooch and we, not the pooch, are in the gunsights of the wrath that is about to set down on us.  It's eerie to even think about.  Like the silence before the tornado's funnel cloud  suddenly appears out of the sky, the sickening sensation as the sea waves rapidly start sucking out.  The future has been locked in now, the tragedy about to unfold is just over the horizon, out of sight to our eyes but not to our minds.  Exactly how it will play out on each continent remains to be seen, but one thing we should know:  Our great grandchildren will curse our names.

But one huge problem will be solved shortly: overpopulation.  We won't have to write any more editorials about the 7 billionth baby.  Or the 8th billionth.  The effects of global warming on food production, fire, flooding, innundation of arable land, with changes in climate patterns destroying now viable farming land, will all have a profound effect on how many people will surive.  And since millions of people are now on the edge of starvation, their future is zero.

We should be very proud of ourselves as a species. 

Because Congress Has A Plan 

The House voted 396-9 to reaffirm that our national motto is, "In God We Trust."  That's what Congress has been spending its time doing.  Not funding jobs bills, or dealing with the hungry, the sick, or even planning how to try to blunt the worst of the devastating effects climate change is bringing our way. 

No.  Our national motto was put in place in the 1950s to prove we were better than those godless Commies.  It wasn't under threat of being un-mottoed. No scary atheists had started a bill asking for its removal.  Nothing.  But in the face of all our troubles and problems, Republicans in Congress stopped everything so they could "debate" and discuss and "reaffirm" a national motto what wasn't even under question. And the dickhead Democrats went along with this farce so in the next election their Republican opponents couldn't stand up and claim that they voted against God.

This is what We the People have created.  This is who We the People have voted into office.  A sufficient number of fools to play the fiddle while the republic burns.  The founding fathers surely are weeping.  Except Ben Franklin.  He's laughing.  He knew.

Oh, Give It Up, Won't You?

Yesterday, the Tribune reported that Tammy Murray of Oceano would go before the SLO Planning Commission on Thursday to ask them to “vote in favor of her plans to open Compassionate Cannabis Information Center” in Oceano. Mx. Murray wants to run a “470-square-fot collective in a 931-square-foot single-family hyome on a property surrounded by a sprinkling of homes and mini-storage facilities.”

Oh, well, good luck with that. I can guarantee her plans will go nowhere. The whole Medical Marijuana law was one big joke. The people voted the law in and the law enforcers and elected officials and Feds immediately began ignoring or violating it. So did the “patients” and users and the doctors and everyone else. It turned into one huge political football and a farce and now it’s just a disgrace.

A dishonest disgrace that taints everyone who fools with it. The President promises to back off on the issue then sends the Feds to hammer communities big time. Local Pols stand four-square behind “helping sick people dying of cancer” (That always looks compassionate and doesn’t require that the Pol actually does anything), then makes sure that ordinances are written so as to make dispensaries impossible. And when called on it, blandly shrug their shoulders and say, “Don’t blame meeeee, the ordinance (which I wrote) won’t allow it, sooooo sorry.”

And one sheriff, wishing to distract the public from the little matter of his own illegal wiretapping contretemps, engineers a Federal raid and an otherwise upright citizen is facing years in Federal prison.

And the public winks and nods and perfectly healthy people wanting to get a buzz on head for dishonest Doctors claiming their backs hurt, Owwwww, or they’re nervous and can’t sleep, Awwww poor baby, can they plueeezeeee have some Weeeeed?

And growers start plowing ACRES of the green stuff and the amount of pot showing up on the market at “compassionate use” dispensaries (and on the street) surpasses by a gazillion the number of sick people in the state. And before you know it, the whole point of the original Medical Marijuana law turns into idiocy with all the players acting like dishonest fools.

That, dear readers, is the price otherwise sensible people must pay to maintain their appalling hypocrisy.

And so Thursday, the Planning Commissioners will put on their Oh, Look, I’m Being Concerned & Compassionate face and Ms. Murry will be told, “Oh, Darn, we’re sorry but it looks like the ordinance just won’t work at that property. You’ll have to spend even more money and time and come back and we’ll look at another property but you and I know this little dance will end badly because you will NEVER be allowed to open a dispensary but we’re too dishonest to tell you that outright and save you a good deal of time and money. Plus we don’t want to publicly appear to be mean bastards who want cancer patients to suffer.”

Feh.

Duh Times Two

Physicist Richard Muller, one of the Koch Brother’s paid handmaidens and climate change skeptic has finally had a change of heart. Seems he took another look at what nearly all climatologists have already looked at ad naseum and decided, Oh, Gosh, heh-heh, I guess you guys were right after all. Temperatures ARE rising.

Normally, this wouldn’t be much of a problem. Scientists are always questioning and re-testing data and theories. That’s what good scientists do. But in the case of global warming, the paid deniers have helped slow American’s response time to the wrath that is about to set down on us. And that slowed response time will cost many, many people their lives and property.

And that “skepticism” for pay in a scientist is particularly heinous. The Koch Brothers are oil and coal guys. Their interest isn’t the planet, it isn’t people, it isn’t the environment, it isn’t science. It’s how to make as much money selling carbon burning products so they can make as much money as possible. And if the result of that selling means death and destruction to the largest number of people, well, that’s no concern to them. They’ll hire “scientists” to deny the obvious, delay efforts to counter the damage their products are doing, buy congressmen and ad men to lie about the issue. In short, they’ll do everything possible to keep their status quo. Like cigarette manufacturers who hid then lied about the truth about their products and used “scientists” to do it, the Koch Brothers are peddling death while denying it. It’s not personal. It’s business.

And many Americans are dumb enough to have bought into their lies. And that will have a double barreled effect: The delays that still continue (Now, the talking point isn’t whether the science is accurate, it’s, O.K. it’s real, but can we AFFORD to do anything about it?) will hit us on two fronts: The lead time need to offset the worst of the coming effects has already passed and more delay simply means the effects will be far worse than they needed to be – a direct fault of climate change deniers’ delay tactics. In addition, that delay means the loss of US technology leadership. Other countries not in thrall to people like the Koch Brothers, are forging ahead of us in alternative energy research and development. And that’s a real shame. But it’s what happens when you fail to ask the one basic question: Who profits from Fact A and who doesn’t?

In short, follow the money and you’ll usually find a liar and his hired minions. And you can bet that his interests and yours will not coincide.

In the meantime, send a post card to President Obama / White House / 1600 Pennsylvania Ave, Washington, DC 20500 and tell him to veto the Keystone XL project. Burning more oil is exactly the wrong thing to be doing – 180’ wrong.

A Tale of Sickening, Heartbreaking Kismet

Sounds like America’s global warming policy, but it’s not. In this case, it’s a Pulitzer Prize winner, it’s beautifully written, it’s absolutely fascinating and as it builds to the end, which we all know, it takes on a terrible sense of pure, unchangeable Fate. Kismet. It was as Allah Willed It. And the stupid swaggering male macho turf wars that blinded the agencies that were charged with protecting America will make you sick to your stomach, make you furious, and finally hurt your heart as it lays out how “history” too often comes down to this: So many will die because a few top macho American security chiefs hated each other’s guts and were jealous of their turf. Simple as that. And too many others were asleep at the switch and spending more time guarding their bureaucratic rules than watching on the walls, as one misstep after another kept Al Qaeda on track for its date with destiny.

I’m speaking of the book, “The Looming Tower; Al-Qaeda and the Road to 9/11” by Lawrence Wright. Available in paperback. It is a compelling read.

Molly Discovers The Box of Toys

First I heard the rapid incessant squeeking, chomp-squeek, chomp-squeek, followed by a blur of movement, then more squeaks, them a quick spin. It was Molly Malone, the new greyhound. She’d discovered the box of toys in the corner and with untold delight started pulling out and test-chomping each one. In no time, her activity and noise attracted the mild interest of Finn McCool who stretched his long neck near to sniff and watch.

That set Molly curling into a ball to snuggle down on top of her treasures to guard them like a mother hen guarding her chicks. She didn’t growl, she didn’t give the stink eye to Finn, but the way she held her neck and head, low to the ground, stretched out like a poised snake, was dog-body language enough and Finn wisely decided to get interested in something else.

Good Momma Molly and her nest of toys.