The only question now is when.

One of the founding principals of democracy was protection through anonymity. With the relatively recent advent of electronic search and seizure, passive surveillance and record checks and balances there is an instinctive hesitation of self preservation on the part of the patriot to wonder who is watching and who will see his political message weather by blog post, petition signature or some day, electronic voting. The insecurity is justified as the prevailing landlords make no secret of their content monitoring and list making of suspect individuals.

It is no accident that in order to sign a petition you must give your name and full and current address. The practice first adopted by Hitler during his rise to power, circulating a false petition to identify jews who were apposed to the rise of the Third Reich. This petition of course made up the first targets for round up and re-education.

Is it any wonder then that when confronted with requirements to show identification to speak ones voice that we hesitate and wonder if the wrong people will hear? Is this then the mechanism to being down democracy in which case it must be the goal of the currently powerful to move us slowly to a controllable police state. The 1st and most important amendment provisioning and protecting free speech was written to support the continuation of democracy. Though though the decades of eroding liberties and the slippery slope of regulation one can measure the decomposition of our democracy by how little we can say without repercussions or regulation.

Technology has played an ever present role in the manifestation of the close minded police state. With warrantless wiretaps on every phone call that moves through US telecommunication carriers, to data duplication within primary internet core switches, to library monitoring of checked books and online purchases of flagged materials, we are known and monitored with every expression of our so called free thought. There is no anonymity in cyberspace, just as there is none in the signing of a petition. To rally against a presidents speech one is corralled into pre determined protest zones, away from he media, away from the supporters, away from the impressionable eyes of would be supporters. And rather held under firm gaze of the “security” forces perpetrating the illusion of freedom of speech, and making careful note of every face in attendance.

It is no coincidence that technology tools are always under development to make observation of individuals easier and more efficient. To presume the government (not that they make any secret of it) isn't using these technologies is ignorant to say the least. The real question is what is the ultimate goal of these technologies. To presume that the technology to scan and identify faces in a crowd wouldn't be used in such a manner is ignorant to say the least. As this is the only reason the technology was developed just as “speak to dial” and “voice transcription” software was developed not to help doctors transcribe notes, but to make the mass listening of voice conversations easier by reducing the man power to do so.

The only questions anymore is when. When will the switch flip and the curtain get pulled up. Already haliburton has built 20 odd some concentration camps around the country, complete with train stations, guard towers and staffed by the military. They sit empty and idle for now. Tens upon thousands of plastic coffins stacked high in fields waiting for bodies to fill them by the score. State government changing laws to allow for internment without due process for biological disasters..like swine flu. Its one thing to point fingers and claim conspiracy... its another to see pictures of the camps, the coffins, and the orders signed by presidents to build and fund them. I don't know the answer to the when, though my intuition tells me....soon.

The experts are the new oracles.

Spoken to us with the absolute authority of the computer we bow down before them, god's own gift to the liar. Through our own ignorance and fear we listen with wild rapture, suspending our own experience and beliefs for the hope of enlightenment from those who speak for us. In the beginning it was the false prophets who sought power at the pulpit saving our souls and taking our tithe.

Now, the prophets are everywhere and we hear the oracles decry that the world is safe, that the system is working, that you have nothing to fear but the fear that is provided to you and the comfort that the oracles masters will ensure your survival. And we listen, and we believe, blindly trusting those we do not know, cannot question projecting experience, education and confidence. Without exception, were we to question their authority means banishment and ridicule. To not surrender our beliefs for their assimilation is met with anger and vehemence to the quietest whisper of “Bullshit”. Redoubled efforts to repeat their current message on deaf ears through thinly veiled rage and bewildered astonishment is the follow up as if by repeating the same hollow information the recipient will catch on to their role and follow blindly to the slaughter house.

So long now have the oracles spoken with impunity that we the masses no longer can hear the difference between their opinion and simple fact. So blurred is the line that the message has ceased to be what we need to know, and become what we should think. Common sense and the desire to question is lost in the seamless flow from one message to the next as we surf the hypnotic trance of instigating fear and alleviating the threat in one carefully crafted statement. A scripted exercise of providing comfort to the cause before the consumer even has the time to rationalize the fearful emotion for themselves. Had they more time they may determine the irrationality of having felt fear to begin with, though without is absolute in its ability to conform and control.

With the condition resolved, one seldom goes back to reexamine the traumatic emotional flow we just experienced. Instead it settles into the psyche as a fading bruise or light scar little more than a memory were it not for its lasting impression. In lieu of outrage, an unwarranted emotional bloom of gratitude seeps from the faded scar. Grateful to the oracle and their masters who so swiftly resolved the issue they themselves had created putting our minds to rest so we may sleep again in docile compliance.

So powerful are these oracles that global industries spring to action to protect their prophesies and their predictions or else by their inaction reveal that the experts are not in unison and the message may be flawed. Woe to the masses if a light shines through the clouds of rape and despair with the glow of wisdom or rational thought. The experts who in private council scoff at each other’s revelations stand unified as one voice to the public maintaining their ever present and consistent message. Be afraid, don't worry, we're here to protecting you, never mind the man behind that curtain. 

We listen to the talking heads on CNN, and go about our lives sitting in coach selecting the pointless airplane mode button on our cell phones, complacent and content to obey the oracles. With white knuckled grips on our preferred opinions we no longer discuss original thought or question authority, rather we passionately argue the sound bites of our preferred information source. When compelled by a dissident to think on their own, a glassy eyed stare and righteous indignation is the reward.

Manufactured consumers through decades of depreciating education and constant interference to imagination, willfully ignore the realities of the world they exist within. All the while fighting off those who would stimulate their rational minds and threaten their complacent symbiotic relationship with the experts. So entrenched is their blindness that most can’t even articulate what they want for dinner let alone what they want for their future. Short term gray memories ensure that they will not recall the message was the opposite last week and limited imagination will keep them from predicting the new message next week. Not beyond the reach of the oracles is the depression and apathy they find ever present in the background from an unfulfilled, shallow and pre-determined existence. They are sick, take your pills, it’s not your fault, it’s a disease.

Though it is their fault. By making the imagination of one’s mind irrelevant, expression of ideas suppressed, and the satisfaction of learning something new and different pointless, you never satisfy the true needs of the mind. Fundamentally designed to create, explore and diversify itself to be spoon fed every thought, feeling and experience it withers and dies on the vine. The flesh so easy to satisfy in consumerism and sexuality, never touches the recesses of the mind where the soul resides. So year by year, and now through generations we as a society are regressing to a more primitive existence. Where once food, survival and fucking were all that occupied the conscious mind, now the objectives are; shopping, fucking and entertainment.

We're doomed.

A date? really?

So, I'd like to preface this story, that the reality of the situation did not become clear until some obvious tells were pointed out to me by other people who were either there, or heard the reciting of the tale after the fact. I am not bi sexual or gay, nor have ever been curious, let alone attracted sexually to Pee Wee, I was only and honestly enchanted by meeting and hanging out with the first movie star I ever noticed. (when I was 8)

My first opportunity to the hob of knobbing was at an annual event called the Super Ball. Well known and respected in the more eclectic Hollywood community, this once a year party was thrown by none other than Joel Hodgson. For those of you who aren't immediately stunned and amazed, Joel was once upon a time the host of a popular though somewhat odd tv show called Mystery Science Theater 3000, (or MST3k). Yes that's the one. With the two robots and the dude who heckled bad movies in a spacecraft orbiting the moon. Yea! He was the dude with the robots. Anyway, sure he was a class B celebrity, but he is a king among the C list, and a friend among the A list. After everybody enjoys a great party, especially one that's great every year. It was at this party, Super ball 8, that I met Paul, aka, Pee Wee Herman.

I was on the third or fourth lap of the party, located on a rented studio lot, half indoor half out. There was an open bar with 5 bartenders mixing up the baddest mai tais' you had ever hoped to sip on. Fortunately, my brother had driven that night, so I was well into the party cups when I bumped into a big grizzly dude, scrawny, but tall, big curly hair, an afro but to white for that, with thick rimed glassed. Somewhat stunned I knew his face and then his name while he mentioned something about relaxing I didn't slosh on his flower print Hawaiian T shirt. God damn if it wasn't Weird Al Yankovic.

My first real celebrity sighting! Stunned but trying to play it cool, Al and I talked about where he has been, and the absolute genius of his Lola re-make back in 84'. Chart stopper that was. Sipping on my potent mai tai, eyeing the candy at the party, trying not to sway when someone I know I knew but couldn't place rolled up behind Al, sporting a new Superball ring (Joel gives them out every year, it's a badge, and a privilege). "Hi Al" says the familiar stranger and then it slips though the fog I know that voice. Its Pee Wee Herman! "Call me Paul" he says and a half amused and meloncalie tone. Yes, I said it out loud, and now him and Al were looking at me with that "this must be your first celebrity sighting, you dumbass" look.



As if on cue, my brother, the industry guy who knows Joel's wife well and scored us the invites rolls up sticking his hand out to a warm introduction to Al and Paul. Relieved form the jack ass situation I just barley survived I relax into my drink and bask in the aura of the party itself. Not the socialite my brother is, I interject in conversation and the like all the while I keep noticing PW glancing at me in kind of a funny way. Blowing it off as just being buzzed and nearly drunk, I wander off in search of a jon and a smoke. Sometime later in a continues state of wander and pleasure seeking, I find myself escaping a live band and starting at Courtney Cox's almost perfect ass while having a smoke, when PW says hello.

Still embarrassed about the newb shit from earlier I try and relax and try not to be the dumb ass fan them I'm sure he runs into all the time. I don't recall everywhere the conversation went, but we talked about normal shit, life, the industry, what I did, what he didn't do in theaters, etc etc. When hes like, "Ive got a show running at the groundlings, you should come check it out…" I didn't know what the groundlings, was, though I was down for a free show. How bad could it be, PW was in it. handing me a business card, "call me this weekend, Ill put you on the list.." Thanks, I said, and with that he walked off. Flipping the white paper card over in my hand, "Hermon Productions" the night morphed into a surreal experience, and I was convinced I was drunk and it was time to leave.

Few days later, I ran into my brother and started discussing the evening as a hole. I mentioned that PW had slipped me a card and I was going to go see him at the Groundlings sometime soon, and he immediacy began laughing. "Yea, I picked him up on my Gaydar, I though he liked me, though looks like it was interested in you" I wasn't about to believe him. PW is not only not gay, he thought I was cool, and wanted to hang out, catch a show or something. My brother's accusations quickly dismissed, I call PW the next day only to find his show was over, but perhaps we could garb some food and chill a bit. Cool, sounded fun.

After setting the time, I get directions to PW's house up in the Hollywood hills. Its exactly what you would expect from a top notch movie star. Crawling up a winding road, past houses I can never afford and cars id never own, I finally make it to the tip top of this mountain and am forced to stop before the last house on the hill, fronted by a very large, and very ominous black iron gate. Sensing my presence, or perhaps via closed circuit television, the large gate came to life and slowly swung open to allow my entrance into what I will soon refer to as the Fortress of Pee Wee.

A little nervous and little overwhelmed, PW greeted me in the drive with a smile and a hand shake. I don't know what I was expecting, a grey suit, red bow tie, maybe long hair and a deviated septum and coke head sniffle. Instead, I found a mid forties dude, short hair, jeans and a collard shirt in the front yard of any suburban home (minus the stunning view of downtown la) trickling steam, grass, a favorite tree, and of course a modest ranch style home. After some casual chit chat, PW invited me inside and I caught my first glimpse of the Fortress of PW. Located on the door jam was an almost invisible black key bad. Almost something out of a movie, PW leans over, blocking my view and punched in a complicated multi digit code popping and electric lock in the door, and granting entrance to his den.

I was immediately struck by the number of photographs and pieces of artwork on the walls of his foyer. I'm sure the were famous people, or people of some kind of importance, as the P man himself was in almost every one. The second thing I noticed as we moved deeper into the PW den, was the clutter. Ultimate packrat this guy was, so much so, he actually closed of a wing of the house so not to be viable. I asked him what room that was, and only a "maybe later" response was provided. My overactive imagination took off and was again distracted by the largest lava lamp Id ever seen in my life. This yellow glob had to be at least four feet tall, and flanked by a couple of lounge chairs. Never mind this little groove center was located in the end of the master bedroom.

This was clearly where PW spent most of his time, taking a seat next to the big yellow globing tank of glass and wax, I continued to take in my surroundings as PW handed me a pipe filled with green, just like the caterpillar on top of the mushroom in Alice in wonderland…steel bedroom door with dead bolt.. bullet proof glass for the patio door…security panel on the wall.. curious more than uncomfortable, I started to wonder what I had gotten myself into.

Puff puff puff went the pipe. Now I am by no means a random pot smoker. I've been smoking since I was about 16, and for the first several years I was literally stoned all day everyday. I was not however prepared for the quality of grass that Pee Wee scored. Needless to say, after three or four tokes, I was fucking blasted. Again my gaze drifted around the room while we discussed this that and the other. Transfixed by the four foot yellow lava lamp I was caught by a piece of conversation I seemed to be in the middle of:

"yea, I don't know why, but him and I aren't friends anymore.." said the P man
"why not..?
"I think his friends said that we shouldn't be hanging out. "
"seems kinda stupid all in all, what is he in high school?" I asked rhetorically
"No college, UCLA"

So yes it was a little odd the PW was kicking it with college age guys, going shopping "hanging out" to the point that dudes friends gave him shit over it, but hey, he's probably just trying to fuck some younger ass.. My brain did a skip on this thought and my carefully placed veil of delusion was starting to slip. Getting up I asked for directions to the bath room and went into a tiled room slightly smaller than my current living room.

There was a walk down (yes, walk down as in with stairs) sunken tub a shower couple sinks and right on the edge of the tub there was what appeared to be a strategically placed playboy mag from almost a year ago. Now I've got a pretty good intuition and I couldn't help but think that it was put there for some reason. I mean my god, who sits in the tub and reads classic porn? The oddest thing though was when I went to leave the bathroom and got a look at the door. It wasn't a regular door. It was clearly made of some heavy solid wood. A steel door jam could be penetrated by a sliding bolt. And I mean a fucking bolt. This isn't no on your screen door job, this was a piece of 1/8 thick, 1" wide sliding bolt like you see in a fucking bank or the cops busting their way through on their way into a suburban meth lab.

"So what's with the security PW?" I finally asked as I returned from the john.. After all I did have to, this was just getting to weird. "well a few years ago I had a stalker, who came to my house, and beat on my doors in the middle of the night and tried to break into the house" "must have been a serious stalker to warrant bullet proof patio glass.." I replied. "yes he was pretty serious" Yes I caught the "he" and it buzeed around my already buzzin head. The desire to flee started building up within in me however I was in no shape to drive let alone back down this fucking mountain with all its twisting turning single lane road.

"want to see the rest of the house?" PW askes to change the subject, sure sounds like a great idea. Of course the outside patio of the master bedroom had a spectacular view of the Hollywood hills. Dropping off from his back porch into the Los Angeles forest natural preserve it was simply something anyone would love. I figured however that a man with this kind of money would hire a gardner once and a while, to you know trim the bushes and what not. Though at closer inspection there appeared to be what looked like PVC pipes jutting out about 14" from the bushes about 4 feet off the ground and running down the mountain to destinations unknown. While observation the pool and having a wild fantasy of Hollywood type hotties scantily clad around the Greek and modern roman architecture around the pool, the purpose of the pipe becomes apparent as PW shovel scoops a load of dog food down the tube to the mountain below. "I feed the deer".. Um..ok. this guy is definitely off center and I was beginning to get the feeling that PW man of action didn't get much company up here to his Eagles Nest.

Back inside the house a long hallway wound from the back bedroom to the kitchen living room on the walls were literally hundreds of pictures and photographs of PW with celebrities, headshots, works of art and the like. I remember about a year after I kicked it with the P man, hearing on the news he had been arrested for maintaining a kiddie porn art collection that was somewhat subjective in nature. I further don't recall seeing anything that I would construed kiddie anything on the walls of his house "prominently displayed" as the allegations depicted.

This however may have been in the living room, a room in witch I was not given a tour of. Just off the kitchen the door was closed and the entry blocked. "what's in there" I asked in curiously "oh the living room.. maybe Ill show you that later.." wink wink nod nod. Now what ever he had back there, I kind of wish he would have showed me, as I suspect it would have helped this little story.

The tour ended in the kitchen (the man desperately needed a maid) as perhaps he was sensing my general discomfort and the whole scenic tour or towards him in general when he recommended we go and get a bit to eat. Anxious to get out of his fortress and my skull still over toasted from the fine ass weed, we head for his Lexus and began our decent down the mountain.

I would like to say I remember the trip though the winding trails and hairpin curves, but I really didn't. The fact of the matter is I was scared out of my mind. Who would have thought PW was an aspiring formula one driver? Trying to look relaxed, my foot went looking for the imaginary break pedal as he would come too damn close to the edge of the road, no guard rail mind you to protect one from the hundreds of foot fall off the side of the road. Tumbling and bursting into flames only to be found later deceased with once famous TV star Paul Rubens. Houses, mansions and parked sports and luxury cars blurred by as The P chatted about some shit I don't recall.

So after the exhilarating ride, and back roads though Hollywood, we wind up at this hole in the wall Mexican joint, that PW frequents often by the way he was greeted. The walls were covered with famous peoples' headshots and I do mean covered. Most places in LA have a dozen or so, but this place easily had 100 covering its walls. Though I quickly found out why when we were seated the booths were specifically designed so that no only did no body walk by, but you wouldn't able see any other booths from your own and you were somehow left with the feeling that you were the only ones in the restaurants. I had never been there before and tried to find it again later, though I never did. I suppose I was too lost or out of my mind while getting there, not to mention just happy to be alive.

There we were, alone and sipping beers, food ordered, chimichanga for me, I don't remember what he ate. I love chimiechangas and order them where ever the opportunity presents itself. I was pretty much sold on the intuition now that although PW has been nice, and hanging out was cool he was clearly hitting on me and wanted a piece of the Mike. I didn't allow my mind to wonder if he was a top or bottom, into fetishes or what. The meal was wrapping up, and being the point in a date where I would be making my move, PW changed the course of conversation from his role in playing a queer in Blow to dropping innuendo to blow jobs.

Taking cue I summoned the courage though the grassy and now beer buzzed haze to ask "So ive heard a rumor around that sometimes you've been known to go both ways….." After careful consideration and a mischievous grin stretched across his buzz cut skull I committed my self to never see again, the confession was achieved "yes, Ive been known to experiment"

The gauntlet was throw down, my sexual identity and the subsequent evening was left in the balance. Fortunately, the waitress brought the check to interrupt the moment giving me pause to consider my options. Shall I reject PW sever this wonderful and somewhat enlightened friendship, all subsequent bragging rights and insights into pseudo celebrity or, maintain my well developed sexual identity and return meekly to straight obscurity.

The waitress leaving us alone again I made the quite simple declaration "I've never been known to go both ways.." it was out, there he had it, though he didn't seem disappointed, rather oddly amused. "known to have gone anfd going are two diffrent things..." slithered from his lips like a serpants tounge. Reaching for my wallet PW stopped me mid grasp "Oh no I've got it.." pulling his billfold out resting his arms on the table. The air seemed to thicken as he thummed through 50 dollar bills as if trying to select the right one to bay the 40 odd some dollar check with.. "hmmmmm witch 50 should I choose out of all of these many 50's?" so said his thumbs.

Of course I was flattered that the PW would pay the check and I was under no disillusions that he was in fact offering me cash to ride my ass…or something equally sinister. As a crafty veteran of such solicitations I pretended not to notice the thumb action and instead started intently into the foam at the bottom of my beer until he finally selected the perfect 50 and dropped it on the table.

Quickly thereafter we abandoned the invisible mexi joint and we're racing back up the mountain through streets that seemed familiar for only a moment in the darkness. Mentally forcing myself sober, doing a few isometrics and what not, I willed away the lingering cloud of grass buzz and slight beer buzz that was not for the circumstances quite pleasant.

Alas the last turn was rounded and the great iron gates of PW's mountain top fortress appeared and opened as we passed through. My lonely black 4runner sat patiently in the drive way as if calling me to flee and to freedom. Out of the car and in the drive, PW asked if I wanted to some in for another smoke. On the spot for the inevitable rejection, late as it was (like 9 o clock) I politely declined and murmmered some sort of bullshit im sorry I don't recall. I do however recall a final look of disappointment and resignation in Pw, was I really a catch oddly flattered for a nanosecond before offing my hand for a shake and walking quickly to my truck without trying to look like i was in a hurry.

Crawling my way down the mountain through the twisting darkness, I wondered if I would ever see PW again, whether I would make it home without incurring a DWI, whether my brother would have banged him, and how I should have asked where I could get a 4' tall lava lamp.

Once, I had a favorite place.

Once I had a “favorite place” This was my first real environment that could remotely be considered back woods, or rural. A small town with a population of under ten thousand my father found work and moved us there.

Our home was centered on two acres of land with I mowed every weekend, usually all weekend, as my father was not the type to by a riding lawnmower when I could mow it all in just under 8 hours if I tried. At the end of a long gravel road, with only 3 other neighbors, we had corner lot, corner to a lake that is.

The shore line if you will was more of a steep rocky and treacherous embankment that although passable you took care wandering through. Thick hardwoods and cedars deep brush and snake dens specked the elevation decline of some 50 feet that provided a cover and concealment in the summer and sharp contrast to the glass smooth lake in the winter.
From the back porch, a larger than living room, fully enclosed and screened in extension of the home I would sit and stare off into the underbrush. This porch was my favorite place.

To the west was the lake after the stretch of our property. A huge carpet of rich green evenly mowed turf flanked all around by towering hardwoods protecting the shade and the creatures that lived within it. To the east on the other extreme of our plot of lad, was out only visible neighbor in the form of a low lying log cabin before even denser forest that would be tall and majestic were it not for the 400 foot cooling tower with its never ending belch of hot steam rising up into the air.

Looking ahead the earth fell away to the boundary of the property, where sharp rocks and boulders gave way to soft grass and then dense forest that fell down to the water. The swift moving current of the intake canal drifted fishing bots back and forth in a lazy dance against the thirst of the nuclear power facility that sucked the lake into its belly before spitting back out the other end one hundred degrees year round. Now and again deer would come from the woods, and down to the water where our boat was docked and seldom used. They always had a cautious eye on the house and the man on the porch, perhaps wondering if I had my shotgun or a silent bow.

Clearly out of place in this hot and muggy environment where the bugs sung so loud at night it could keep you awake like the police choppers in los angels or the traffic in Chicago was my Siberian husky, ever faithful and sweet as sugar Katie Kate. Despite the tepid humidity she would lie beside me in the rocking chair and fwap her tail as casually stroked her puppy soft fur to the sound of the woods, less the bugs, insects, spiders, snakes and scorpions the almost invisible screen protected us from. Within the right conditions my brother and I would pull our bed mattresses out onto the porch and sleep deeply through the night. The best of these nights is when the rains would come, these were by far my favorite times.

As the sun went you could smell the rain coming in the air, dancing on the wind infecting your mind without filter from your consciousness. The light fades earlier than it should as the thunder clouds work their way through the jet streams to destinations unknown. Signaling their travel with distant rumbles mimicking the train on the other side of the lake as the breeze becomes a wind pulling moans from around the wood. Without hinder the wind flows through the screened porch chilling the sweat of anticipation on your flesh as you await the storm. You sat both fearful and excited and the ferocity of nature that is soon to be unleashed. The temperature drops and although there is sound everywhere, everything seems to be quite. The slither of snakes in the bushes, bird cawing and bugs mating has gone as they seek shelter from the impending storm. All that is left is the wind in the trees, though the grass and over the rocks to fill your mind.

This wait build tension in your gut as the wind brings you the faint traces of something sharp in your nose. Picking your memory you know the scent, but smell it so rarely, that you forget it exists until you know it again. Once you realize what it is, the storm is here. As if to announce its presence night becomes day for a fraction of a second as the sky splits open and thunder booms into your bones startling you despite your long anticipation. Ozone fills your nose and mind as the rain begins to assault dry earth, pulled down by gravity and thrust upon the landscape by the voice of the wind.

Sitting in the protection of the porch, the storm would rage around me with my rapt attention. With each dagger of lighting came the ominous boom that both humbles and inspires your spirit. Quickly the air become crisp and clean from the cleansing rain as the thunderclaps travel miles away across the lake only to return again as echoes in the wind.

Drawing to it like a moth to a flame, the cooling tower high above the landscape was ringed in lighting rods. As if deliberately, the storm would light the night in a purple blue sliver burning white hot to touch it with a ferocious clap of thunder. Perhaps needing reassurance all is well, or just looking for a little more love. Katie would rest her chin on my thigh soliciting a slow scratch behind her ears for the loving embrace when the storm was at it climax.

Gallons upon gallons of rain poured off the roof and over the sides of the porch adding to the noise of the squall as it beat holes in the grass and battered puddles without mercy. Bursting at the seams, the puddles would burst and make channels and streams rushing to lower ground making its way to the lake witch reflected the light show in the sky with crystal clear perfection. The wind not to be outdone by the mighty rain, assaulted all in its path, snapping branches and felling trees somewhere in the darkness. Urging the rain as it could through the semi-permeable barrier of the screens to reach us because we were dry, or perhaps just because we were there. Though, no matter how furious the wind whipped through the tress, the gallons that fell or the sensory assault from lighting flashing or thunder booming, the storm was never was quite violent enough.

Years later, I did watch a storm roll in that proved to enough for me. This time it was palm trees over hardwoods and the elderly over bugs. For 4 days and nights I watched it come with growing anticipation. It was big enough to name Andrew, and it was a category 5 hurricane. Again, I sat on my back porch overlooking a lake of glass beyond witch a downtown skyline stood between me an this mother of thunder storms, smelling a scent your don’t quite recognize, and remembering another porch long ago once upon a time in Arkansas.

We're here to help.

I wonder if as a society we will ever come to move the line in which a police officer is considered to have been assaulted. A few recent news articles really got me thinking just how silly and absurd at the legal diversity at which a law enforcement officer is permitted (eg never punished) to “protect himself” when they are under the impression they have a threat against them.

The most glaring example of which and you can find these videos all over youtube as well as I, is the trade mark officer who blocks in a car with his curser, then proceeds to get out to go gang busters on the dude. But the dude instead decides that he’s going to leave again. Now, seeing that the car is making a move in his sometimes general direction at a relative low rate of speed as often due to being blocked in, or at a dead stop, the officer immediately finds himself “threatened for his life”, and rather than making two steps to the left and getting out of the way of the 3mph moving car, jumps on the hood. rides it like a pony while unloading a fucking clip into the drivers face.

(skip to 3:50)

What about in a controlled jail environment while being ordered to remove her shoes, a bad ass and studly, (most likely a ninja or UFC street fighter) in the form of a 15 yr old 100 pound girl kicks her shoe off in a “fling” type manner, striking the 6’-2” 220lb pig in the shin. Thank god for his training without that he could not have protected himself from this violent assault! Relying on his years of intense training and experience of a recent shooting where he was acquitted for shooting and killing a man in 02, and shooting another in 06…. The skillful front kick to her stomach opened her up for the heavy right hook he threw catching her lethal ninja skills off guard enough to allow him to grab her by the hair and slam her face into a concrete wall. Tough but not out of it, her master would be disappointed as her hair wasn’t cut short enough allowing the cop to grab upon it again, and throw her to the ground where she continued to resist arrest! Two more over head rights.. BAM! BAM! to the back of the head made sure she’d go peacefully. Which she did, and the officer not lost to civility helped her to her feet carefully not touching any of her feminine body parts (as that may be misinterpreted) but instead just takes hold with two fists full of hair lifting her up from the ground.

It’s a shame that officer wasn’t as fortunate as his friends in Louisiana, where after the flooding they came across a 65 yr old school teacher, and rather than respecting their authority and submitting to their pressing questioning and detainment he had the audacity to look them in the eye. Well, good thing those veteran cops didn’t stand for his resisting their arrest. To think even after 14 punches to the back of the head, throwing him to the ground, stomping and kicking him while handcuffed, he could still fight back threatening their lives at 65!. Wow, good thing they got that criminal off the street. Not that he was ever charged with anything.. but I’m sure he was a criminal waiting to happen, just like the associated press reporter who had the audacity to even witness justice.



To me, evolving this brutal and unregulated culture of our so called public police force needs some serious revamping. And I do know that only 10% of the cops are responsible for 90% of “alleged” beating and shootings. The problem is, that these are the same 10% that rarely get kicked off the force, and even more rare prosecuted for their actions. In the cases noted above, there was no legal repercussions to any of their actions. The case with the girl, he is charged though like the new Orleans incident, he’ll probably be acquitted.

The biggest change that needs to happen, is that cops must be held to the same standards as the rest of us in what is construed “reasonable force” for self defense. That brutal beating of that girl because of a shoe…. If that response would be justified for me in a bar, then its justified for him in uniform. And that alone should be the standard. If you have a legal permit to carry a gun, and someone is driving toward you and you interpret that action as a threat to your life then I too should be able to empty a 13 round clip into their face at point blank range and walk away without blemish after 6 weeks of paid leave. If a cop has more freedom to defend themselves than a regular citizen, then what silent regulation is there to protect innocent civilians from their assault and batteries? Lets face it, its very unlikely that someday cameras will be everywhere, and its safe to assume that very few incidents make it on camera. Lets not even mention how many states do not allow you the right to defend yourself under any circumstances regardless of the threat…..unless you’re a cop.

Next, a database available to the public like the federal sex offender database must be made to identify, track and publish the reports, investigations and resolution of all police use of force claims. Despite the insistence (and successful litigation) of the police unions, use of force data is not a matter of private personal files and therefore protected by employment privacy law. They are the records of public servants interacting with innocent civilians who until convicted by a jury of their peers, retain the presumption of innocence regardless of the evidence against them.

This will also help with a single bad cop getting fired from one department and simply moving to another department to pick up a new badge and new gun with an acquitted stamp on his jacket. Further, internal police investigations need a federal directive to be completed within 90 days (as opposed to several years while the “heat” dies down) with each ruling reviewed and approved by a publicly elected magistrate and not that of an internal, secret police review committee.

Rules regarding use of force should be standardized on the federal level, made available for public review and comment and require a special oversight committee in congress to revise, modify or alter those rules. There is no justification that the people most interested in keeping the rules vague, lenient, and corrupt are the only people who are tasked to create, maintain and oversee those very rules.

The reality is we are not living in dangerous times. Federal crime statics from the department of justice report that current violent crime levels are at an all time low not seen since the mid 70’s. Although one could argue that since incidents of police brutality have gone up it’s had a positive effect in crime overall. I will disagree. Id wager since the advent of the video camera, cell phone and dash cam, incidents of police brutality have, maybe, might possibly stayed the same.

I can understand cops have a tough job, and probably 95% of them are good men (even if their loyalty system is fucked) Just to stand on the side of the highway hoping some dumbass doesn’t sideswipe them is enough to get a merit badge in my opinion. The reality is, I’m ashamed to actually be afraid when I see cops. I don’t know how it will turn out as Ive no idea what comes up on their screen when Im pulled over, or how they interpret it. The shield on their doors states clearly to serve and protect, though in the backs of our minds we know that if we step wrong intentionally or otherwise we can be in for a world of hurt. There are those would say, “if you’ve done nothing wrong you’ve got nothing to worry about” and that’s a great ideology and I totally agree.

Though another great ideology is “innocent until proven guilty”

Wake Filled Realities

Throughout my life, Ive gone out of my way to discover what it is I don't like about people. Often its misinterpreted as hate and rage, though for me its the tool I use in self reflection to purge myself of the attributes I care not to retain when existing in this world. It is not hate after all, its simply frustration at understanding somethings existence to a depth that I view the interconnection of a seemingly isolated act or emotion whether it be tyranny, fear, betrayal, cowardice or deceit to all the points in the time line that lead to up to that moment and all that will evolve after it. This frustration manifests in anger, and anger being one of the most constructive emotions available to the human pallet drives me, motivates me and propels me into becoming the anti-Christ of what I see to be the worst of us.

I try to purge myself of these feelings so that I may be free of them. Though I find I no longer, or probably never had the language to release these and other feelings into the universe, into the void. Im no longer a musician, or an artist, and have never been a poet and in writing I find myself needing to invent words as English simply falls short of what it is I'm trying to express. The problem with words is that you must rely on your audience to interpret your vocabulary, the nuance within the choice of terminology, and the deconstruction of the careful arrangement in which you presented it to them. So you're left with the choice: Express yourself in the language you understand and most likely be misunderstood, or fail to express yourself in an inadequate language used by others. Like trying to grasp a glowing ember in your soul, I haven't the tools to facilitate the job.

As now I struggle to convey the underlining essence of my list of evils: tyranny, fear, betrayal, cowardice, deceit. There there is no word to envelope all that there is about these horrific feelings and actions. No one word or phrase of words that I may use to give the all panoptic view of what they mean to me, to you, or to society as a whole as I see it. If it were a sound it would be a low grumble of subs with hints of high frequencies surfing within reverberation and resonance without feedback, slowly drifting in a methodical yet hypnotic free flowing evolution as it transcends above and below 20htz. Were it a light it would be deep and blue, shimmering as if through the throb of your heart below your breastbone with black abstract shapes, like an amoeba or distant galaxy of stars. Textured like a flowing stream at night caught though with a slow shutter under full moon within a moderate canyon. An unimaginable depth and scale that invokes both great fear and deep humility though captivating and beautiful despite the vulgar humanity that envelopes it.

One of the primary results of getting into the more metaphysical and spiritual aspects of yourself and your environment is that you begin to experience outside of yourself a prevailing synchronicity around you. People within, and the elements of the world at large are full of overlapping patterns and what is seemingly random chaos is really a series of constructs that when viewed objectively are intertwined and codependent on each others existence. The space betwixt these elements is where people live, think, and go about their lives. For lack of a better term I refer to these places as “The Gap” and its within the gap that I direct my gaze as thats where the quite lies, the soft viscus tranquility that buffers one harsh reality against the other.

More and more often I find it hard to settle into the gap and free myself from this seemingly never ending mass of interconnections that represents nonlinear dynamics in its most altruistic form. Snowboarding allows me the easiest gateway into the gap. Its on the mountain that I connect with the universe submitting to the physics of gravity, momentum, force, velocity, inertia and my own humanity, fear, exhilaration, joy, beauty, and love. Its there that my mind clears and all that moves me has left my spirit and Im left with what an alcoholic would describe as a moment of clarity in which all that exists in this dimension is the intuition that guides my muscles and the indifference of the mountain below me.

Most time of any day, I fill my mind with music as it dulls the noise of patterns and coincidence. Without headphones I play the songs that suit my mood or feelings as if on an infinite play-list surging though feelings as if grasping to understand them though the soul of another. Now and again in rare moments Ill stuff lyrics up on my facebook as if inviting others into the space where I happen to exist in these moments. Moments in which for brief period in time I identify with the music so completely I shudder, and have an experience wash over me similar to the concussion of a explosive detonation vibrating every molecule in your body in sequence for a thousandths of a second.

Perhaps one day Ill find away to extrude these moments into minuets, and minutes into hours hours into weeks, and so on. Building a lifetime of such experiences running in concert with my ambition, dreams and wake filled realities.

Anger as a Motivator

I think most people use the terms hate and anger interchangeably which causes a lot of confusion to say the least. Hate is reactionary, volatile and inherently destructive emotion for both the creator as well as the recipient because its a flowing energy like a river. It must go somewhere. Just like love must go somewhere. Its compulsory, it makes you do things. You manifest anger with hate, you manifest love with sacrifice.

The biggest issue with hate is that it serves no real purpose in a civil society. You can not purge yourself of hate without destroying the instigator of that hate. Witch means the inevitable destruction of institutions or lives. A general disdain from imprisonment keeps the vast majority of people restrained enough to never destroy those they hate so they are at an impasse. They are filled with hate which only severs to destroy but they can not, so the hate turns inward. At some point you begin to hate yourself for not being able to unleash your wrath on the instigator and it builds upon itself until it becomes a rage. This rage turned inward is known as depression.

I think much of whats wrong with the world today is because we've got all of this bottled up hate that we have no constructive outlet for. We're told what to do what to like, how to behave. How to think, how to speak while the entire time suppressing who we really are and what we really feel. We cant tell jokes or make light of an uncomfortable situation less offend the politically correct, we cant take a side or have an opinion without having an adversary to shout us down. In our heart we know of this betrayal to ourselves, and deep down in a dark place it fills us with resentment and hate. Its no wonder we're so medicated and distracted, blinking lights and sound bites. If we actually stopped for a moment to actually experience the things we feel, and discuss the ideas we have we just might find we're not so different from one another.

Anger I find can be one of the best motivators within the human emotional pallet. It is a state of being, a presence, like a lake or a mountain that exists for its own sake, never evolves and can remain for eons just like its counterpart, serenity. It is not an action orientated emotion like love or hate is. You are not compelled to do something to resolve anger it can co-exist with you internally just like serenity. This is where courage and fortitude is manifested and integrity is forged without being compelled to destroy.

It is anger that allows you to stand in the face of adversity and say “I will not fail” while others try to destroy you. It is anger that can fuel the fires deep in your spirit to keep thrusting one foot before the next shutting out pain, ignoring fear and defeating the desire to quit. The anger burns with the loss of your self respect, the birth of the self loathing you would see looking back with the eyes in the mirror each morning. Anger is the calculated sum of measuring yourself against your goal, or principals and to find yourself wanting on the scales of your own merciless judgment.

In my world, this scale of moral evaluation is the essence of integrity. For a man who can not disappoint himself is a man who is not held accountable to any law.

If I Had A Time Machine

I was thinking today while watching the solar eclipse in a cereal box about the Mayan and Aztecs who would hold huge parties that lasted for days leading up to a solar eclipse while fucking, and getting drunk on spit beer and of course sacrificing tens of thousands of people. No shit, TENS of THOUSANDS a number that’s almost incomprehensible to categorize in the context of mass murder unless of course you’re playing the “who’s a better dictator” game. But then I really started to work the mechanics and decided I would have loved to have been there.

No, not as a peasant watching the bodies tumble down headless or heartless 800 stone stairs into a fire pit. Not the guy ripping the still beating heart out of some cuties chest and thrusting it into the sky “unga bunga!!!!!” to the cheers and the adoration of the crow. Definitely not one of the dudes who got their rib cage split open and head cut off. Not the guy responsible for cleaning up that whole mess after the ceremony, No, Id want to be the physical trainer to the executioner high priest. I mean, come on.. killing 30 thousand people in a couple of days has got to be a real feat of athleticism!

Im sure this guy was just as important as the priest themselves, they would need coaching and training, motivation and encouragement. Like any other “pro” athlete they would need to perform at their best. Peek levels to not only put on a good show but appease the gods or else, what’s the point? I mean for real, if he blows it like a game winning field goal, their entire civilization may collapse. Talk about pressure.

So I would train him, first by chopping wood for hours a day to make sure his head-cutting-off-maneuver was in top form and strong. Some times at high altitude for better oxygen efficacy, other times, while in a swimming pool for dynamic resistance. Then, I would have him cut though thousands of reed hammocks with a dull flint blade to perfect his breastbone cutting open-stab and draw was in impeccable condition. I wouldn’t eliminate any style from his technique, after all, showmanship is all about style. I would try to refine it so that he can make the best technical slash while at the same time look good doing it. Such as focusing on the artery. Arterial spray although messy in sacrifice, is a great crowd pleaser.

Then on the days of the ceremony, I would stand back to his left in my bone and peacock feather head dress, grass skirt, and flip flops and murmur encouragement for flawless execution. Provide tips regarding technique for real-time feedback and every hundred sacrifices or so when their washing off the blood when it gets a little too slickery as it does in the Amazon sun, Id give him a quick deep tissue massage on his chopping shoulder, sharpen up his flint blade or bone ax and be otherwise be supportive of his game. Hell, I may even have a young virgin standing by for some close practice to evaluate a particular flaw I may have spotted or be just generally available for rape and murder.

Yeah that’s who I would like to have been.

Principals of ideals.

I've been thinking lately that the common prospect of what’s going on in Washington and in light of the recent mass election is although pretty typical on the surface, carries some serious undertones.

I don’t know about you, but I’m personally offended at all the hub-bub going on about the Christmas bomber. If you follow the news even casually you’ll hear debates and arguments about how the FBI should have defined him as an enemy combatant rather than reading him his rights and placing him in civilin court. The crux of the concern isn’t about whether or not he’d get the “right trial” its so that they could “more appropriately interrogate him”. Which of course means, so they can torture him.

Im disheartened to see so many people do not even hear the word torture anymore. Like with all other harsh concepts the speakers having thrown a hand full of more words, or syllables at a hard concept they have diluted it into something that isn’t even heard anymore. No longer do you hear “enhanced interrogations” even though it sounds better than “torture” but its still too much. The recent senator elect Brown here in mass, was clear and outspoken about needing to get this guy “properly interrogated” as if torture was the only way you can talk to someone who has committed a crime. Never mind innocent until proven guilty.

And its not that I think that Mr, light-my-balls-on-fire isn’t guilty, it’s the principal of the matter. If you have a standard for truth and justice, an approach to what you believe is the right way to prosecute a crime against a government or its people, well then that principal shouldn’t waver depending on geography, or religion or political popularity. It’s a principal, it never changes, it remains a cornerstone to a belief. That all men are created equal and that “In all criminal prosecutions, the accused shall enjoy the right to a speedy and public trial,” There’s no exceptions to that, it doesn’t say, that the bill of rights was written for only the superior peoples of the United States. It was written for all men as a set of ideals, and principals as an example to the world on how governments should act to its people and for its people. This ideal makes it a human right not just a citizens right. Which is why we fail so miserably in the eyes of the world.

The slippery slope here of course, is that who determines what a terrorist type crime against the United states or its people is? Technically all crime is against the US or its people, so one could conjure; and as its clearly manifested in this debate, and in the debate of the guy who shot of the Ft Hood community center. That anyone that the government wishes to remove from public trial, and place into a military tribunal, free to torture, and detain forever can do so and nothing and no one will ever stop them. In fact, it wont even be discussed.

Ask Why To Those Who Give You What

So I was surfing through some channels the other day, and there was one of those in depth commentaries on the “landmark healthcare bill” and why the public support is so lax. What floored me was when one reporter turned to the so called political expert and asks the two “most relevant questions”

“are the democrats just doing a bad job of selling the bill?” Or “are the people just fatigued from the process?” How about an alternate suggestion , what about; “maybe we the people know whats in the bill, and know the bill sucks for us the people”, and that's why we don't like it. Maybe; “we don't feel like supporting the insurance industry anymore”, or maybe “we as a majority want a public option, and maybe just maybe we want to see action BEFORE 2014?” I guess you didn't think of those questions did ya? Of course not.

Some 59% of the American people want a single payer or public option but it was quite literally the very first good idea that was killed in every version of the bill. The reason of course is that this option is the only, repeat ONLY portion of the healthcare bill that would actually force the insurance companies to lower their prices and therefore profits. Its the only model in witch any real change is possible. I challenge anyone to educate me where an industry for any reason has ever passed down cost savings to its customers. Why we somehow asked to believe that making the healthcare system more efficient and cheaper as a whole will trickle down to us makes my temporal lobe shudder. Did we already forget “Reaganomics”? And as my mother so eloquently put it to me the other night. “fuck trickle down”

“Oh its working in Massachusetts” bullshit. Nothing is working here. What we have here is a government mandate that if you cant afford insurance, then you will be fined until you get insurance. So just because you haven't got the money, they will take more money from you for not having the money to get the thing you would love to have if you had the money. And for those who qualify by not having enough money will be subsidized by the government so they can buy insurance. Brilliant isn't it? Well, guess what, now most people have had insurance for about 2 years now and surprise, premiums HAVE NOT GONE DOWN at all. Add to that the surprise that almost everyone they brought into the system with this new law, cant afford insurance on their own so their subsidized.

So the premiums haven't gone down, treatment is still expensive and reactive, and they didn't think that the people who didn't have insurance actually couldn't afford it. Maybe they thought people didnt get insurance because they like to live dangerously. Well way to think ahead assholes, the state is going bankrupt supporting this program and it doesn't have the money to carry all of these subsidies for all of these poor people, out of work people or otherwise broke people. Its borrowing money from the feds to keep the program going while we wait for the insurance companies to “trickle down” their pricing premiums which isn't going to happen because THEY DONT HAVE TOO. Not to mention, now instead of a 2 month wait to see your doctor its a 4 month wait. So people still go to the emergency room for preventive critical care, and people are still without insurance.

But guess what, the senate just passed the same fucking system for the rest of the country. The big difference between what we're running here in Assachusetts and the fed bill is that the feds are going to tax the shit out of us until 2014 to preload the coffers to finance the subsides when the time comes because they know they cant afford it as its not a self sustaining cost model. Good luck with that, how many of you assholes will be retired by then I wonder.

So those 30 million (out of 70 million who need it) Americans they brag about getting on the insurance plans will now be going to your doctor too. After all, before we started this shit there weren't enough doctors to treat us all, and now with the same supply and increased demand will be even worse. Which is genius to the insurance companies because they know; if you're making your premiums, and you cant get in to see a doctor, then you're not filing claims, and if you're not filing claims then they are not paying out. Which of course means; multimillion dollar bonuses, private jets and gold plated silverware. Who are the winners in healthcare reform again?

Around July of next year when the congressmen start up their campaigns for reelection they will sing and tote this bill as a huge victory for us common men, because they in their infinite wisdom and benevolent stewardship have managed to “contain healthcare inflation”, and “expand coverage” But it will be a lie. If Obama stands on his word that he wont sign anything without a public option then they will blame him for killing healthcare reform. But your smart right? You can see that this so called reform is just profiteering for the insurance lobbies who at date have 6 lobbyists for every 1 congressmen. You can see that there is no reform, and the so called bill is 1200 pages of weasel words and loopholes, spending programs for home states, and pork and fat and special interest crap that makes it just about worthless. The only positive note ive heard in this bill is the pre-existing condition clause. But with it not taking effect until 2014, fortunately only another 200 thousand or so people will die waiting.

And now their so tired of doing their jobs that they just want to get something, anything passed so they can move on and say they accomplished something. Because actually producing something thats good for the country is just too hard. Poor babies, fuck you. You know whats hard? Having to choose food over getting that thing that's growing out of the side of your neck looked at. And yes we're tired of hearing about this shit drone on too. After all we knew it was over and we had lost when you killed the public option. Liberman, good god what a failure of a human being. I myself am tired of hearing about it, but personally when I get tired of combat I give in and give people what they want, not give up.

So why do we keep reelecting these assholes? Pretty simple really; Come summer of 2010 we will either forget that they participated in fucking us over, believe their bullshit spin about why they fucked us over, or not believe that they fucked us over at all because we're simply to dumb/naive/ignorant to understand the real effect of the causes they propagate or get distracted like a 6 year old watching a clown magician at his shitty birthday party. “look swift boat captain....(dont notice Bush lied to you about why he invaded a country) evil boat captain! his medals are lies!.. (what happened to mission accomplished?) ehhh.. hurts my brain to even think about.

Im tired of hearing that the recession is over as well. Every time I hear “the recession is over” I think of Bush standing in front of that mission accomplished sign after we took Baghdad. The recession ain't fucking over, its just begun. The problem of course is the terminology. As far as economists define it, a “recession” is 2 consecutive quarters of economic contraction. (eg shrinking of the gross domestic product) But that's only one of many indicators of how the economy is actually doing. Sure wall street now is making money again, but whats that mean to us? Not a fucking thing. Layoffs are still happening every month and unemployment is still going up. Cost of living is still going up, propagated with states and local municipality's closing budget gaps by raising taxes on us people who cant afford to spend more for anything including xmass.

Price of food, still going up, utilities still going up, wages (if you're fortunate enough to even have a job) are either still flat, or going down. Interest rates on debt is going up like crazy and lenders are still not lending. But hey they have the cash to pay back the fed to free up those regulations on executive compensation. Foreclosures still going up, suicide going up, poverty going up, bankruptcy going up, crimes of desperation (like bank-robbery) going up and yet you turn on the news and you see a party on wall street and confetti about how the recession is over and we can start spending money on shit we dont need and cant afford.....again.

The reality is that this economic problem that we're living in is gonna stay with us for a while. Obama is right, it comes down to creating new jobs. In the last year companies have streamlined and stripped down so much, that they have realized that they can operate just as well on less fat. They will not be adding fat back onto their payrolls ever as they will of course choose to remain lean and profitable. New industry and new jobs will have to be invented and Joe-Sixpack-Union-Dude will have no place in this new economy. The new plants and factories will be in union-free states like Tennessee and South Dakota, where putting bolts on a car isn't worth 65$ an hour where the guy who actually has the skills to repair said car makes 12$. If the lenders were lending the cash would be available to build or expand factories, invest in research to develop those new products that would lead to those new jobs.

So just with this scratch in the surface, any hope that this quagmire will end in the next year or two is foolish to say the least. But hey, go spend! Buy more shit made by kids in other countries, give jobs to the guys who operate the cargo ships, the dock workers, the cashiers as wall-mart. Spend while interest rates are at record highs, while you're thinking of trading in that 3 bdrm home for a 2bd bedroom walkup before you get foreclosed on. Spend you'll get another unemployment check next month, and after all the recession is over! Whoo hoo!

We as a society are on the precipice of change that can end in only one of two ways. We've been on this edge for about 20 years now, and the lemmings have piled up behind us and now we're gonigt o have to push back or jump. Will it end in a revolution or total placation of society I wonder. There's really no middle. We're either going to get so fed up with the lies, the bullshit, the greed and the shitty magic show that we'll say fuck it and go to war against the leaders, vote them out of office, let the corrupt institutions fail, and withhold our precious dollars to pay off our debt and live within our means.

or will we bow down broken and whipped because that's what we're accustomed to. Chained to our debt and compounding interest as financial slaves that dictates the terms and conditions to every facet of our lives, distracted with shiny objects, banner ads and bite sized talking points tweeted to us 140 characters at a time until we dilute our rational thinking into something more obedient to those who wish to control us for profit. Bobble heads and forgiving to our incompetent representatives who's existence is hypocrisy. Afraid to speak up less have our tongues cut out or shouted down by the special interests and fear mongers who fight to maintain the status quoe.

I used to believe that the internet would bring upon the dawn of information and enlightenment, and that the availability of truth and information would over compensate for all the spin and lies that permeated the limited distribution channels of media at the time. Boy was I ever wrong. We as a society are so numbed by the static and pop ups, banner ads and flashy this and that, that most of the time we dont even pay attention to the cereal box as we eat our fruit loops anymore. We dont hear the message because it takes to long, or we were to distracted by multi tasking that what ever message there was is just another bleep in the background of the electronica.

Would my message be heard if it were tweeted to you? The world, life, politics, economics, and relationships are far to complicated to be understood with a sound bite. To think for yourself you must consume information, in depth and with contrast. You must question authority with practical skepticism and ask why to those who give you what.

My soul must be Iron

Wow this has been a real bad week for us Americans I tell you. Though what hurts me more than the total failure of healthcare reform has got to be the sneaking in an extension of the Patriot Act yet again. What you didnt heart about it? Well, surprise it was tacked on to the ass end of the defense appropriations bill and approved quietly because our congressional representatives do not believe in constitutional protections, civil rights, or civil liberty. We're at war our soldiers dieing, our captives tortured, our phones bugged, our email searched, our blogs indexed, our liberties worn down to a smooth numb like a river stone. Yet we move forward heads down, every news channel riveted on what Tiger woods does with his penis, not looking around trying like hell not to upset the status quoe or offend thy neighbor, even when thy neighbor steals our paper. Im just so damn disappointed I cant even write about it.

Much like the so called healthcare reform. If we as a people learn nothing else from this experience we're so patiently watching unfold before us like the fledgling magician at a kids party, is this one simple lesson. Our elected “leaders” (and I use the term as loose as a goose” have no interest in responding to anything that we want, or that is in our best interest. They don't like us, they don't care about us, they find us a nuisance that they have to manage and provide the perception of appeasement so we'll wander off back to where we came for sedated with crumbs and empty promises, carefully crafted rhetoric polished like a shining diamond and just as worthless.

How many more examples do we need to finally believe that they, as an organization are a complete failure and do nothing to enrich our lives but only act in their own self interest, that of their lobbyists, and of course their post-congressional carriers as consultants to whatever. 90% of the unites states blindly believe in god with not a single shred of evidence ever presented yet time and time again on national television we swallow bold face lies, ½ truths, fear mongering and quantifiable actions that effect our very own every day lives in the negative and never once do anything about it including turning our backs on these people and voting them out of office, calling them on their shit or god for bid, holding them accountable for their failures. Is personal responsibility such a diluted and obscure trait in society today that we cant even manage to hold our elected officials accountable for their actions?

Now that's a scary prospect. What has come of our society that our own inherent conditioning to blame an intangible for injustice and corruption is so absolute than when you actually do have a proven and unmistakable cause for a negative effect we can not bring ourselves to hold them accountable either? It would definitely explain how bush got reelected, it would also explain how mass murderers escape the death chamber because mommy didn't breast feed you and daddy kicked your ass. I speak of this often in my personal life about those who have betrayed me and how Ive cast them out of my sphere of love and light and I get a lot of shit for it. My value system dictates that I care not for intentions, motivations or justification for how you behave in life. I measure each individual I interact with or comes to my attention solely on their actions. Nothing more, and I really am that simple.

You can be a total asshole for 25 years, and one day you wake up and start being kind, generous or simply not an asshole, I will take you at new direction and respond to you appropriately. That's not to say I wont remember that you were an asshole for 25 years and take my time with buying into the new you. But I will give you the benefit of the doubt and say to myself.. “self, he did alright by them today, maybe he's not such a bad dude anymore....” But when you go and pull some shit, treat someone like shit, be mean and disrespectful, the badge wears on. I will keep my distance and hold you accountable for your choices. Because your actions are choices.

I dont believe your feelings make you do anything, I dont believe habits are permanent, I dont believe freewill is ever forfeit. Each and every day you choose to be the person you are though the actions you take throughout the day. Its completely up to you whether or not those actions are a positive force on the world, or a negative. Once you come to understand that its a choice to call someone a hurtful name, steal their bicycle or wear them down with negative energy, then you become aware of your own influence in the world. You adopt a sense of personal responsibility and through that, a morality of what behavior you find acceptable in yourself, and conversely in others. The fortitude in which you hold yourself to this morality, most importantly when its hard is what defines your character. Existing as a person of character who lives with code of morality is living with integrity. The greatest gift you can ever give yourself is integrity, as its one of the very few things that no one can ever corrupt or take from you.

Those without it will fear you for it, threaten you and otherwise challenge you. They will try to tarnish your armor of integrity not because you're wrong or you're misguided but because it reveals to them their own personal short comings and generates within them a foreboding sense of shame. This of course is a very uncomfortable sensation especially when experienced though the subconscious. Motivating people to make choices that in hindsight even to themselves inspires regret and self reflection. Had they a sense of personal responsibility, that would take this as a lesson and grow from it, and then themselves begin to develop a morality. But it takes great strength to look yourself in the eye and find yourself wanting. Courage and perseverance to not flinch, but rather make an alternate choice, a harder choice now a little more self aware at the ability to fail on the road less traveled.

Many perceive me to be a pessimist, but I retain that I'm the greatest optimist. For when I look at the world around me I see with naked eyes, evil, corruption, hate, greed and anger and do not flinch. I do not hide from the sour truths that I experience and endure breathing in its foul stench and washing its bitter taste across my pallet to fully experience it for what it is. I chew it with vigor to understand its texture and substance adding its subtle nuance and prominent flavors to my mental database of experience thereby expanding my wisdom. I will choke on its subsistence until I swallow and then as this honest morsel of life passes to my gullet I see the opportunity in the choices that we made that created this putrid beef and hope that the next time the circumstance present themselves, different choices will be made, people will change and the next empiricism will be more tolerable than the last.