Saturday, October 31, 2009

A Different Kind of Candy

Oleg is flat out amazing in so many ways - but this? How-dee!!

Exceptional athlete, exceptional photographer, luscious art.

Oíche Shamhna

Ah, the victory of Morrigan!

"The Cath Maige Tuireadh (Battle of Mag Tuired) takes place on Samhain. The deities Morrígan and Dagda meet and have sex before the battle against the Fomorians; ...the Morrígan acts as a sovereignty figure and gives the victory to The Dagda's people, the Tuatha Dé Danann. "

Keep your wits about you tonight, friends!!

Monday, October 26, 2009


Plain video of why, oh fools, voting matters not at all. NONE of them have any intention of doing their job as YOUR representative.

As McCain says - doesn't matter what the vote was for - this is a straight in your face "Fuck You and Your Vote, Minion". Only thing is that rat bastard did it on-air and live. Smirking. At least he had the balls for that.

Once upon a time, you mattered to the process. No longer - the only thing about you that matters is the sweat from your brow, paying them to do this to you. You are paying a pimp to beat the holy fuck out of you every single day. And I am sorry - dreadfully sorry - about that. I wish it was different. I wish I was wrong and you could feel like you could change it. But the only thing you can do is starve them out. And that...well, even I am not up to that battle. Not yet.

These videos are just a small glimpse of what goes is mind shatteringly labyrinthine. And yet these glimpses are the truest view of their mutual soul. All of them working in a certain end.


Nothing to worry about, silly ejits!


A dear friend has a young man who we are gently steering toward perhaps the hardest job in the military. Michael Yon has a terrific photo series here.

I love how Yon is able to take such impeccable angles - he truly gets the action in the shot in a way that conveys the movement and urgency. And he has always done an amazing job that goes unreported in MSM - because he doesn't play the game. I like that his opinion is formed from reality and experience.

Now, we just need to find that boy a suitable swimming hole...

Friday, October 23, 2009

And Christmas, Too...

We love Survival Straps - their offerings are truly high quality and made to please.

I was happy to read about their Survial Straps for Soldiers holiday project. If you know someone who already has everything, maybe purchase a half dozen of these in their honor. Or perhaps to honor a fallen friend or mentor.

The fact that a portion goes to the Wounded Warrior Project just puts the icing on the cake.

Here Comes Halloween

I am a `ween'er.

Yes, I do it up as best I can every year - though last year was a very bad time and I ignored the holiday. But this year I am getting in the mood - even if a bit late...all thanks to this man and his work.

His Lady Bathory print is a must-see, too. Really terrific composition!
Now, time to dust off the accoutrement...

Things That Should Not Exist Vol. 1

I present some crazy ass gecko with tip of the "WTF, Lord?" cap to The Other Laura.

I'm very understanding when it comes to natural selection and all that but come the fuck on. Really?


Making The Rounds

I've been naughty this morning - not working. Instead, following many a link, looking at a number of interesting places. And then this...(as found from the adored POWIP)

"However, the President also singled out the American Constitution: "... the Constitution allows for many things, but what it does not allow is the most revealing. The so-called Founders did not allow for economic freedom. While political freedom is supposedly a cornerstone of the document, the distribution of wealth is not even mentioned. While many believed that the new Constitution gave them liberty, it instead fitted them with the shackles of hypocrisy.' "

Hold that up against the lovely work from Brigid.

How easily that concept rolled from his mind to his fingers to his this-very-day-ability to perform same - distribution of wealth. It is the cornerstone of their facade. Remove it - give them no access to our largesse - and the thing topples. Oh, one can dream...

Monday, October 19, 2009


I have become accustomed to his being near - if not in the bed at night, no more than a few minutes away. Tonight that is not the case and every creak gives me pause. My hand moves familiarly over the loaned Springfield, the heavily checkered grips a firm reminder that it's all on me.

There is something about the night that has changed for me. I can hardly imagine doing now what I did when younger - leaving at midnight for some assignation or another. It isn't as though I've become a recluse but I truly do not like much of the world around me, now. Every little idiocy bristles so that I am brought to pointed language...

I am afraid the time spent away hasn't helped, either. Hours from any sort of electronic minder, any other people, and the massive deceit gave me a perspective I have not had since the last time I went to Dream Lake. There, with the expansive view, I felt a tremendous ease of heart and soul.

I think of it often, wondering why it has been so long since I'd traveled there. if tomorrow were assured or those mountains would remain accessible forever. What I would like to do I need to do, soon. I doubt I shall ever cross that wide expanse to Europe, now. Never to see those places that ancient history bades me to honor. But this land - this sweet land is being turned into a fetid swamp beneath of feet of the banal. I ought to see it while I still can - while there is something left worth the trip.

All this...another delay. So that I needn't go to bed alone, not have my guard up and senses not quite resting. I wish I'd gone with them...the feral pigs are, at least, honest in their predations, sincere in their intent. Those other feral creatures? Frighteningly capricious.

Sunday, October 18, 2009

New Perspective Lately...

We aren't avid hunters. I have never been before though Trooper has hunted since he was old enough to hoist his rifle. But there was a sale... It's a very nice tree stand - two person - and a terrific site to hold it and I loved the view. There is something very peaceful about it - the tree waving slightly, the wind more notable. It is like a cradle and I get very sleepy...
Ranger wasn't as fond, of course. He tried to climb up but then decided to just wait RIGHT THERE until we came to our senses again. We spent a lot of time among the mosquitos, tracking and finding the right routes and the optimal tree and viewing area.
It makes a terrific vantage point and word was another occupant had a very generous amount of doe (does?) walking just in front of it the next morning. I get such a deep satisfaction being just away from everything.
Everything...there is so much going on just now, isn't there? Enough to overload anyone - which is, of course, the idea. But there are breaks in the plan, moronic statements of people in power, unraveling of edges. Not that most people will notice...but some do.

Just a glance over this one and I have to admit: he does it again...great read. Perfect points. Can't wait to read it again, slowly.
I think I'll get back in the tree tonight. Maybe look at some stars, after. Remind myself that some things remain constant...

Tuesday, October 13, 2009

He's Right

This John Jay? Spot on. (As found courtesy of Joan...)

I've not read anything so darkly right in awhile...

Saturday, October 10, 2009

Bringing It Home

I had a very busy but very interesting day, visiting with friends, buying altogether too much yarn and loving it, and then visiting a cob house for a tour with friends.

But it was my missing the news here, being away from it for long and long, that made me remember when I was in the midst of that travail.

It had been a difficult marriage - a lot of giving, patience expended, a lot of unease and fear for the future...but I'd remained in it. I left my job of 10 years to work on that marriage and, the day I started my new time off, I found the receipt for the flowers, purchased in another state. Not for me, no.

He returned a day after and there was a kind of surreal quality to the meeting. I was still in stunned dismay and a kind of disbelief that this was my life. He was trying to speak as though it was all perfectly natural and logical and it simply was Not. I couldn't even speak. I was so deep in the anger and pain that I could not form words but only crashed against a handy wall, trying to express that dismay and terror in hoarse cries and screams. I imagine the vision of myself now and it must have been a sight. I know it frightened him. It frightened me.

Indeed, I was the Fixer. Give me a problem and I'll get it taken care of. But I couldn't fix this because he simply didn't want me to. I'd been lost before but it was after this that I could not...there was no way to Be Me. What I was and knew was over. For a few months I wandered around in my life, blessed to have only a cat to worry about. No job, no kids, nothing but breathing. And so it was - breathing and apple sauce. It was the only thing I could keep down.

But one day I saw outside in my beloved swing - the one thing he left me with that I truly could touch and consider real - and it came to me that the sun was shining, birds still sang and all that was - well, it simply Was. And all I had was this - the moment in front of me and what I did with it.

Oh, there are other tales associated with it - petty squanderings of youth and soul, certainly. But I moved through it. It did not win.

I still consider that moment - that screaming voice. It echoes through me and always will, I think. Ripples in the pond of my life, reaching out to infinity.

Friday, October 09, 2009

The Long Con

Look here...I had no idea.

"Well, Norman Thomas (1884-1968) was a leading American socialist, pacifist, and six-time presidential candidate for the Socialist Party of America. ...He was also active in setting up the American Civil Liberties Union."

Do you see now how it has all been manipulated for a very long time? Longer than some of us have been alive? That is how the thing has infiltrated every single aspect of our lives. Patiently, carefully, strategically. I never would have given them credit for intelligence but they damned well know how to execute a plan.

Thursday, October 08, 2009

How It Was Once Done

Artistry, banter, wit and sheer pluck.
As seen here...

Made me write my Dad and thank him for the music...the Ear he gave me...

Saturday, October 03, 2009

Brief Words

In remembering those feelings I was reminded of a phone call, an inquisition of sorts, reaching to find an answer. To this very moment that thing resonates - the small words, the destination reached and no need to go further.

"I haven't felt safe a single day in my entire life."

Imagine that. Not one day without fear, trepidation, worry..." hero in her skies..."

Memories Of The North

Ed's recent posts on Chicago have brought back to mind so many things that I'd let go of after I left that place. I was quite young when we first left it - mom and dad divorced but he helped move us to a small town in Florida.

I went from an ancient brownstone and concrete playgrounds to thickly tree'd land and sweltering skies. We arrived at night - I liked to watch the moon through the windows as we'd driven long and long but I'd fallen asleep. Mom woke us quietly, perhaps hoping we'd remain mostly asleep so she need do more than fall into bed herself.

That first scent - I still remember it - full of decaying leaves, tinged with sweet perfume (orange blossoms next door, I learned in the morning). And much that you could feel it like a grit in the air, landing on your skin. And that a warm touch on your skin, through your hair.

It was a place I grew to learn quite well in the few years we were permitted to remain there. I was so angry when we had to leave it. And for what? To return to that horrid place that had no soft breeze, no orange blossoms...

Ed posted this and it gave me a start. The memories rolled through...

I must have been 14 at the time. Already quite dissipated and disillusioned. I'd somehow managed to get to a carnival of some sort - one of those small affairs with very rickety rides and dangerous Carnies. The ferris wheel was absolutely malevolent. But then, I was not entirely sober at the time, either.

It was in that place I first heard that music and to this very day I get a deep sense of unease at it. It was precisely built, that music, those lyrics, to express the entirety of the mess that was Chicago. I know so many people who haven't any idea what it was like, living in that place in - if not squalor - constant danger. One had to always be aware of everything in your environment. Your body language alone could start a fight or seduce the undesirable. And heavens forfend you crossed that invisible line of turf. If you did not belong to a gang, it didn't really matter. They would take you as one might accept a smaller fish on a line when hungry.

And it has not improved. Nothing there has moved beyond that point. Oh, they managed to make the lakeshore tolerable but only because it increased a tax base. And they gave the schools new names - as though adding on a moniker like "metro science center" would change the number of assaults or cause those knives to be cast aside at the door.

I did not watch that video of the poor boy being murdered, casually, by other boys. It is worse than wild animals - animals are doing it for survival, not sport. And when children are so reduced in soul to find murder to be sporting? It makes me give due consideration to euthanasia. Do not suffer those children to live.

Ah, Chicago, raising vile, evil hoardes and then sending them out to...govern.

I was 16 when I left that place.

I have never returned.