This from Billy Collin's collection, "Taking Off Emily Dickinson's Clothes"
Man in Space
All you have to do is listen to the way a man
sometimes talks to his wife at a table of people
and notice how intent he is on making his point
even though her lower lip is beginning to quiver,
and you will know why the women in science
fiction movies who inhabit a planet of their own
are not pictured making a salad or reading a magazine
when the men from earth arrive in their rocket,
why they are always standing in a semicircle
with their arms folded, their bare legs set apart,
their breasts protected by hard metal disks.
Sunday, September 25, 2011
Friday, September 23, 2011
Don't Ask. Don't Tell. Good Riddance
Calhoun’s Can(n)ons for September 23, 2011
If you board the wrong train, it is no use running along the corridor in the other direction.
Dietrich Bonhoeffer
What was the problem? No, really. What was the problem? Gays have been serving in the military since before Christ was a corporal. Rome did not conquer the known world with a gay-free army. Alexander the Great? C’mon. Sparta? Don’t even go there. Really.
And now that our hysterical, last-gasp patch job, the ridiculous “Don’t Ask” policy, has gone the way of all such desperate measures that demean and deny our fellow citizens their full humanity, aren’t we embarrassed? Ashamed? Don’t want to discuss it? Nevermind.
Isn’t it always that way? Always. First the absolutist mind set that takes nonsense as The Received Truth: Everyone knows that Negroes aren’t human, they’re some sort of inferior sub-set species; Women are too feeble-minded and weak to be given the right to vote. They’re fit only for motherhood and making breakfast. Mexicans? See how suitable they are for stoop labor? No white person could do that kind of hard work. It’s in their blood. Ditto for the Chinese. They can build our railroads but are too inscrutable to own property and run businesses. Gays are an abomination to God. Jews, too. And all Muslims are evil, murdering jihadists bent on killing Christians. And God forbid if any one of these God-despised, not-quite-humans should marry our white sisters.
They’re endless, the excuses, and more often than not, always backed up by the claim that God agrees with our ridiculous pronouncements, too. It’s all part of His Plan, see? Until it suddenly isn’t. Then slaves get freed and women get the vote and gays are officially allowed to serve in the military and Mexican farm workers seize the power of the ballot box and Chinese people start winning Nobel Prizes, and Muslims build mosques next door to churches and their congregants share pot-luck suppers while watching their kids play little league baseball.
And the world doesn’t end and the sky doesn’t fall and it soon becomes clear that God had nothing to do with all these phony, self-serving “truths,” all of which are so small and pinched and mean and stupid that God couldn’t possibly have been behind them all since that’s not how God rolls, that’s how humans roll. So everyone looks around all sheepish and feeling foolish and refusing to look at one another, heh-heh, and they blink at the brave new world – which is actually the same old world but with one more layer of Stupid scraped away – and say to themselves, What were we thinking? Really? What were we thinking?
And it’s always the same dynamic. First comes the blood sacrifice to the God of Mean, the God of Stupid, the God of Fear, the God of Demagoguery, all the small, smarmy evil Gods that rule the dark human heart. And after much struggle, much sacrifice, and so much suffering, the God of Light removes the scales from our eyes and the world changes, we change, and then puzzle over how bizarre and silly our former beliefs and behaviors were. Who were those idiotic people? we ask. Surely, not us!
But it is us. It’s always us. It’s hard-wired into our little monkey brains, the free-floating fear that constantly seeks an “Other” du jour to target: Blacks, Jews, Gays, Women, Mexicans, Muslims, whatever. There’s an inexhaustible supply of people to despise. Take a number. Everyone gets a turn in the barrel. And though the target may change, the ritual stays the same: Fear, hatred, sacrifice, suffering, struggle, then suddenly –change.
And afterwards, which always comes far too late, we blink and look around and ask, What was the problem anyway? Really. Does anybody remember? What was the problem?
If you board the wrong train, it is no use running along the corridor in the other direction.
Dietrich Bonhoeffer
What was the problem? No, really. What was the problem? Gays have been serving in the military since before Christ was a corporal. Rome did not conquer the known world with a gay-free army. Alexander the Great? C’mon. Sparta? Don’t even go there. Really.
And now that our hysterical, last-gasp patch job, the ridiculous “Don’t Ask” policy, has gone the way of all such desperate measures that demean and deny our fellow citizens their full humanity, aren’t we embarrassed? Ashamed? Don’t want to discuss it? Nevermind.
Isn’t it always that way? Always. First the absolutist mind set that takes nonsense as The Received Truth: Everyone knows that Negroes aren’t human, they’re some sort of inferior sub-set species; Women are too feeble-minded and weak to be given the right to vote. They’re fit only for motherhood and making breakfast. Mexicans? See how suitable they are for stoop labor? No white person could do that kind of hard work. It’s in their blood. Ditto for the Chinese. They can build our railroads but are too inscrutable to own property and run businesses. Gays are an abomination to God. Jews, too. And all Muslims are evil, murdering jihadists bent on killing Christians. And God forbid if any one of these God-despised, not-quite-humans should marry our white sisters.
They’re endless, the excuses, and more often than not, always backed up by the claim that God agrees with our ridiculous pronouncements, too. It’s all part of His Plan, see? Until it suddenly isn’t. Then slaves get freed and women get the vote and gays are officially allowed to serve in the military and Mexican farm workers seize the power of the ballot box and Chinese people start winning Nobel Prizes, and Muslims build mosques next door to churches and their congregants share pot-luck suppers while watching their kids play little league baseball.
And the world doesn’t end and the sky doesn’t fall and it soon becomes clear that God had nothing to do with all these phony, self-serving “truths,” all of which are so small and pinched and mean and stupid that God couldn’t possibly have been behind them all since that’s not how God rolls, that’s how humans roll. So everyone looks around all sheepish and feeling foolish and refusing to look at one another, heh-heh, and they blink at the brave new world – which is actually the same old world but with one more layer of Stupid scraped away – and say to themselves, What were we thinking? Really? What were we thinking?
And it’s always the same dynamic. First comes the blood sacrifice to the God of Mean, the God of Stupid, the God of Fear, the God of Demagoguery, all the small, smarmy evil Gods that rule the dark human heart. And after much struggle, much sacrifice, and so much suffering, the God of Light removes the scales from our eyes and the world changes, we change, and then puzzle over how bizarre and silly our former beliefs and behaviors were. Who were those idiotic people? we ask. Surely, not us!
But it is us. It’s always us. It’s hard-wired into our little monkey brains, the free-floating fear that constantly seeks an “Other” du jour to target: Blacks, Jews, Gays, Women, Mexicans, Muslims, whatever. There’s an inexhaustible supply of people to despise. Take a number. Everyone gets a turn in the barrel. And though the target may change, the ritual stays the same: Fear, hatred, sacrifice, suffering, struggle, then suddenly –change.
And afterwards, which always comes far too late, we blink and look around and ask, What was the problem anyway? Really. Does anybody remember? What was the problem?
Tuesday, September 20, 2011
Ian Parkinson? Meet Warren Jensen. Warren Jensen, Meet Kamala Harris . . .
The Los Osos World Class Sewer Circle Jerk is now complete and all documented by Ron Crawford at http://www.sewerwatch.blogspot.com/ One of the most extraordinary features of the public abuse and public fleecing and failures and singularly fascinating screw-ups and humongeous waste known as the Los Osos Sewer Project, is the absolute refusal by those in oversight positions to do their jobs -- not even to try to explain documented problems -- like how DID money for tot lots and ampitheatres get into that original SRF loan anyway? Instead of accountability or answers, everyone -- everyone -- turns away. Not our responsibility. Talk to the hand.
This conspiracy of silence about the repeated systemic failures of every agency involved in this project, from the CSD to the Water Boards, to the Coastal Commission to the asleep-at-the-switch "watchdog" media, is one of the most extraordinary aspects of this 30-year saga. The result is that Los Osos was raped and the rapists walked away with a promotion and a raise.
Which is what happens in . . . Chinatown.
This conspiracy of silence about the repeated systemic failures of every agency involved in this project, from the CSD to the Water Boards, to the Coastal Commission to the asleep-at-the-switch "watchdog" media, is one of the most extraordinary aspects of this 30-year saga. The result is that Los Osos was raped and the rapists walked away with a promotion and a raise.
Which is what happens in . . . Chinatown.
Sunday, September 18, 2011
Your Sunday Poem
From "The Lives of the Heart," Poems by Jane Hirshfield.
The World Loved by Moonlight
You must try,
the voice said, to become colder.
I understood at once.
It is like the bodies of gods: cast in bronze,
braced in stone. Only something heartless
could bear the full weight.
The World Loved by Moonlight
You must try,
the voice said, to become colder.
I understood at once.
It is like the bodies of gods: cast in bronze,
braced in stone. Only something heartless
could bear the full weight.
Saturday, September 17, 2011
Stop That Brandishing
Odd little story in yesterday's Tribune. Our two Republican representatives, Senator Sam and Rep. Katcho voted against AB 144 (which is now on Gov. Brown's desk for a signature or veto). The bill, if passed, would make it a misdemeanor to "openly carry an unloaded handgun in public."
"According to a legislative analysis published on the states website, the bill's supporters believe the absence of such a law has led to an increase in 'problematic instances of guns carried in public, alarming unsuspecting individuals (and) causing issues for law enforcement.
"Open carry creates a potentially dangerous situation," according to the analyst's summation of the bill's supporters.
"In most cases when a person is openly carrying a firearm, law enforcement is called to the scene with few details other than one or more people are present at a location and are unarmed, . . . In these tense situations, the slightest wrong move by the gun carrier could be construed as threatening by the responding officer, who may feel compelled to respond in a manner that could be lethal. In this situation the practice of 'open carry' creates an unsafe environment for all parties involved."
Since the Republican Party (and most of the Democratic party) is a wholly owned subsidiary of the NRA, and Sam and Katcho are also sworn blood oath Norquistians, they want nothing to do with this bill and voted against it.
And if Governor Brown vetoes it, that'll mean that upcoming Tea Party Rallies can be filled with people carrying guns. Nobody will know if they're loaded or not without checking, which is half the fun. I mean, a resentful, angry crowd playing the victim card, an emotionally charged rally, when excitement and tempers are high, and people are waving guns around, what could go wrong?
Ah, Republicans and their guns. That love affair goes way beyond a well regulated milita and rolls off into Freud territory. Not to mention dog-whistle territory, that lovely territory of juxtaposition and historical memory: a black president, open carry guns at a political rally, carried signs picturing an Afro-haired witch-doctorish Obama with a bone through his nose. All that was missing was the noose hanging from a tree with strange fruit swinging, and the grinning smiles of the armed folks gathered there, grinning obscenely for the camera. Dog-whistle music for our dark unspoken racial history.
Do I overreach? Then tell me, did you ever see guns at a Bush rally? Clinton? Heck, he was a good 'ol boy, you'd think the gun toters would have not thought twice about showing up to his rallies carrying weapons, but I never saw any of that. Until Obama. Did you?
Ah, Republicans and their guns. Well, maybe that explains why they've grown so mean. Fear makes you meaner 'n a snake and Republicans are truly scared people. They're scared that somebody's going to take something away from them (like some money to pay for the roads they drive on or the schools their kids atend) or scared that somebody's going to make them help take care of the sick and lame and, for God's sake, The Poor, (like their neighbors). That's a horrifying idea to people who so strongly and publicly profess to being Christian. Look after the poor? What the hell is that??
And if you view the world as a scary place where you are constantly being menaced by taxes and civic responsibility to love your neighbor as yourself, and instead you view your neighbor as some horrible scary Mexican Black Woman who's threatening your manhood by coming to take your job and move in next door and marry your daughter while the Commies and Socialists are coming in their black helicoptors to take you away to a slave labor camp in Montana for re-education purposes, then naturally you'll really NEED to carry a gun with you at all times.
Even when you go into a pie shop -- especially a pie shop -- because you never know when some urban black thug will rush into that pie shop and yell, "Stick 'em up," and if you have your unloaded weapon you can wave it at him and he'll run away. Or, more likely, since your weapon is unloaded (since it's still illegal to carry a concealed weapon without a permit and one of the reasons you're glad Sam and Katcho voted against this new bill is it would have forced you to a) get a permit, which nobody would give you since you're paranoid, batshit crazy dangerous, and b) with a permit you'd have to conceal your weapon which would defeat your purpose of being seen to be a badass without the requisite responsibility and risk of actually being a badass.), the end result of your little faux Clint Eastwood dumbshow would be to get your behind shot off, either by the robber, or by the cops who burst in, think you're the criminal since you're the jackass who's waving a gun around, and blow you away.
Thus doth fear -- False Expectations Appearing Real -- irrational, free-floating, unnamed, unacknowledged, chthonian fear make fools of those suffering from that chronic, lethal condition.
But, boy, does it make for great profits for Gun Companies, increased revenue for the NRA which means copious campaign money will rain down on the NRA's foot soldiers -- our Congressmen and Senators.
Sweet pie all around! Pass the bullets.
Oh, Brother
Well, my dear old HP color printer finally started giving up the ghost. Actually, it started croaking several years ago. You know the drill, when it's new you can print off photos which is really cool, then very soon, the printer starts getting out of whack, so you get those striped bands through the photo and no amount of adjusting helps, so you forgo photo printing and just use it for genera printing, which raises the questioon, Why am I wasting money buying colored inks (my HP was one of the ones wherein you could replace each ink cartridge, not one of those all in one deals) when all I"m printing is black and white stuff.
So I limped along, wasting ink, until finally the thing stopped printing much of anything. So, down to Staples, wherein I chatted with a nice Staples Geek, who suggested a laser printer, B&W only, way cheaper. So there it sits, all neat and tidy and humming. Then it's back to Staples with my old, dead HP for recycling. (Yes, Stapes will recycle electronic equipment, (and empty ink cartridges) bless their hearts).
Now I'll post this, say a prayer to the Computer Gods (which is needed since my computer's Macafee system is apparently having random glitches for no known reason. Steve Vandagriff, my computer guru, ran the thing through its paces and can find no known reason for Mac's weirdness), then hit print and see what happens.
"According to a legislative analysis published on the states website, the bill's supporters believe the absence of such a law has led to an increase in 'problematic instances of guns carried in public, alarming unsuspecting individuals (and) causing issues for law enforcement.
"Open carry creates a potentially dangerous situation," according to the analyst's summation of the bill's supporters.
"In most cases when a person is openly carrying a firearm, law enforcement is called to the scene with few details other than one or more people are present at a location and are unarmed, . . . In these tense situations, the slightest wrong move by the gun carrier could be construed as threatening by the responding officer, who may feel compelled to respond in a manner that could be lethal. In this situation the practice of 'open carry' creates an unsafe environment for all parties involved."
Since the Republican Party (and most of the Democratic party) is a wholly owned subsidiary of the NRA, and Sam and Katcho are also sworn blood oath Norquistians, they want nothing to do with this bill and voted against it.
And if Governor Brown vetoes it, that'll mean that upcoming Tea Party Rallies can be filled with people carrying guns. Nobody will know if they're loaded or not without checking, which is half the fun. I mean, a resentful, angry crowd playing the victim card, an emotionally charged rally, when excitement and tempers are high, and people are waving guns around, what could go wrong?
Ah, Republicans and their guns. That love affair goes way beyond a well regulated milita and rolls off into Freud territory. Not to mention dog-whistle territory, that lovely territory of juxtaposition and historical memory: a black president, open carry guns at a political rally, carried signs picturing an Afro-haired witch-doctorish Obama with a bone through his nose. All that was missing was the noose hanging from a tree with strange fruit swinging, and the grinning smiles of the armed folks gathered there, grinning obscenely for the camera. Dog-whistle music for our dark unspoken racial history.
Do I overreach? Then tell me, did you ever see guns at a Bush rally? Clinton? Heck, he was a good 'ol boy, you'd think the gun toters would have not thought twice about showing up to his rallies carrying weapons, but I never saw any of that. Until Obama. Did you?
Ah, Republicans and their guns. Well, maybe that explains why they've grown so mean. Fear makes you meaner 'n a snake and Republicans are truly scared people. They're scared that somebody's going to take something away from them (like some money to pay for the roads they drive on or the schools their kids atend) or scared that somebody's going to make them help take care of the sick and lame and, for God's sake, The Poor, (like their neighbors). That's a horrifying idea to people who so strongly and publicly profess to being Christian. Look after the poor? What the hell is that??
And if you view the world as a scary place where you are constantly being menaced by taxes and civic responsibility to love your neighbor as yourself, and instead you view your neighbor as some horrible scary Mexican Black Woman who's threatening your manhood by coming to take your job and move in next door and marry your daughter while the Commies and Socialists are coming in their black helicoptors to take you away to a slave labor camp in Montana for re-education purposes, then naturally you'll really NEED to carry a gun with you at all times.
Even when you go into a pie shop -- especially a pie shop -- because you never know when some urban black thug will rush into that pie shop and yell, "Stick 'em up," and if you have your unloaded weapon you can wave it at him and he'll run away. Or, more likely, since your weapon is unloaded (since it's still illegal to carry a concealed weapon without a permit and one of the reasons you're glad Sam and Katcho voted against this new bill is it would have forced you to a) get a permit, which nobody would give you since you're paranoid, batshit crazy dangerous, and b) with a permit you'd have to conceal your weapon which would defeat your purpose of being seen to be a badass without the requisite responsibility and risk of actually being a badass.), the end result of your little faux Clint Eastwood dumbshow would be to get your behind shot off, either by the robber, or by the cops who burst in, think you're the criminal since you're the jackass who's waving a gun around, and blow you away.
Thus doth fear -- False Expectations Appearing Real -- irrational, free-floating, unnamed, unacknowledged, chthonian fear make fools of those suffering from that chronic, lethal condition.
But, boy, does it make for great profits for Gun Companies, increased revenue for the NRA which means copious campaign money will rain down on the NRA's foot soldiers -- our Congressmen and Senators.
Sweet pie all around! Pass the bullets.
Oh, Brother
Well, my dear old HP color printer finally started giving up the ghost. Actually, it started croaking several years ago. You know the drill, when it's new you can print off photos which is really cool, then very soon, the printer starts getting out of whack, so you get those striped bands through the photo and no amount of adjusting helps, so you forgo photo printing and just use it for genera printing, which raises the questioon, Why am I wasting money buying colored inks (my HP was one of the ones wherein you could replace each ink cartridge, not one of those all in one deals) when all I"m printing is black and white stuff.
So I limped along, wasting ink, until finally the thing stopped printing much of anything. So, down to Staples, wherein I chatted with a nice Staples Geek, who suggested a laser printer, B&W only, way cheaper. So there it sits, all neat and tidy and humming. Then it's back to Staples with my old, dead HP for recycling. (Yes, Stapes will recycle electronic equipment, (and empty ink cartridges) bless their hearts).
Now I'll post this, say a prayer to the Computer Gods (which is needed since my computer's Macafee system is apparently having random glitches for no known reason. Steve Vandagriff, my computer guru, ran the thing through its paces and can find no known reason for Mac's weirdness), then hit print and see what happens.
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