The Answer

They say, "Peace is the answer." But what is the question? If the question is, "How do you deal with people who use threats, violence, and terrorism to dominate you and your fellow human beings?" The answer is not with peace and submissiveness. Bullys thrive on timid little appeasers. I would really, truly love to see the "thousands of people marching for peace" do the exact same demonstration in downtown Baghdad. That would take courage. That would be putting their lives where their mouths are. I would admire them. As it is I find them disgusting. And if somehow they, these actors, feminist housewives, college teachers and pasty-faced students, if somehow they managed to get up the guts to go to Baghdad for that purpose, to protest against Sadaam right in the face of true evil, still, I would not go with them. Because they would be destroyed, like the protestors in Tianemen Square were destroyed. If the question is, "How do you deal with tyrany?" The only answer, sadly, is, "War." That was the answer our American ancestors gave to the king of England. That was the answer my father and his generation gave to Hitler. And that is the answer we must give the coalition of terrorists and tyrants today. And what happens when the war is won by by the decent people of the world? "Peace" is the answer.

Barely in Their Bodies

Yep. This has made me change my mind about going to war to get rid of the Beast of Baghdad. If these, uh, cosmic intellects are willing to indulge their secret exhibitionistic fantasies in a call for Peace, then we should just leave Sadaam alone. Yep. Such a powerful, reasoned argument.

A Blog I Like

Surfing around the web log world I came across this blog. And for some reason I really like it. As near as I can tell from an in-depth cursory read (which is more than you, oh reader, are giving me) it's a bunch of people sharing a blog, at least one of whom draws very funny cartoons. Maybe I'm confused. Maybe I like being confused.

Say It Ain't So

I've already invested all my money in Speed of Gravity stocks. Now this comes along. I'm devastated.

I Wish I Was Rich

Cause then I would have an extra $339.99 laying around and I would buy me a Theramin, I would.

Hmmm

Here’s what I suspect is going on. I think the administration is giving some time to the Saudis, who have an old and friendly relationship with Bush. I think the Saudis and other Islamic dictatorships are scurrying around trying to arrange Sadaam’s peaceful exit as the tyrant of Iraq and his replacement by their own tyrant, one who will be, at least, less dangerous to the U.S. interests (and no I’m not talking oil here, but terrrorism). If we have to go in, as I think Bush is prepared to do, and take out Sadaam, we will likely replace him with someone who is, at least technically, democratic, as we did in Afganistan. This would set a bad precedent from the viewpoint of the other established dictators in the Middle East. Arabia, Iran, Syria, Egypt Jordan, in fact all the governments over there except Israel are various flavors of non-democratic dictatorships. Bush is probably willing to let them do it, because he would truly prefer not to send Americans into combat. And if Sadaam is out of the picture, 90% of the Iraqui problem is solved. But, of course, Sadaam is a megalomaniac and may not cooperate in this, even if it means escaping with his life into luxurious exile.

News Story

Heard this on the radio today:

Clinton and GW Bush happened to end up in the same barbershop today. It's reported that nobody said anything as the haircuts and shaves proceeded, for obvious reasons. Finally, Clinton's barber finished and reached for some aftershave cologne. Clinton stopped him, saying, "Better not put any of that smelly stuff on me. My wife, Hillary, might think I been inside a whorehouse."

Bush's barber finished his shave at that moment, and Bush told him, "Go ahead and use some of that shaving lotion. My wife has no idea what it smells like inside a whorehouse."

Beautiful

Standing outside in front of the house at 11:30PM on a clear, cool tonight glancing from time to time at the moon or at the bright planet (jupiter?) high in the Southeastern sky. The dead dried garden plants next to the sidewalk have fallen or been blown down into a complex, random pattern of lines, left, right, and swirled around like an aborted crop circle. The street lights down the road running directly away from the front of our house, form seven or eight golden, glowing UFOs hovering above the pavement. From time to time a car glides past with a shoosh, like a dream, off on some mundane and mysterious mission. I hug myself, pleased with the cold, the warm house waiting just inside the front door. If I were alone in the mountains, same cold, same starry night, no shelter, no clothes, everything would be different.

Loopy

I was vaguely aware that a friend of mine was spending all his money on musical equipment of some sort. I assumed he was just setting up a little recording studio in his basement. He was but the focus of his passion is something called "looping." He and some other looping acts performed downtown last Sat and I attended. It was fanfuckintastic. My friend was passable, all things considered (it was his first time onstage in 20 years), but several of the other groups were incredible. Nobody was making much money that night (my friend go $35), but they didn't seem to care. Truly art for the love of it. The two best groups came towards the end. One comprised Goatboy, Monkeyboy, and some other "-boy." The other was Admiral Twinkle Devil, and the Turntable Enabler, and an incredible sax player who doesn't even have a strange name, yet. Otherwise, they all have Burning Man type names and this music would fit in very very well on the playa. We are trying to come up with a stage name for our friend, and I think he has just about settled on Swami Love Monkey. I love my second (or is it my third?) adolescence.

By the way, I've been sticking to my two drinks a night regimen, thank you very much, and I can feel my cardiovascular health improve with every glass of wine. I did have three beers the night I heard the looping, but they were spread out over 4 hours and the third one didn't count, anyway, because it was already after midnight when I drank it. Someone at the club that night commented that he had told all his friends to get very very stoned before coming to hear the looping, and I must admit there may be something to that formula. The music sounded fanfuckintastic, as I said. Of course, if I do make it to Burning Man this year, and if my drinking is still under control, I will probably take a cardiovascular health vacation for just that one week. Burning Man, tequila, and I have this special relationship going. Hmmm and then there is absinthe (pronounced "ab *sin*thhh," not "ab*sawwwn") One of my most fun nights ever was spent drinking homemade absinthe and wandering around the playa last year.

Theramin

Rented a documentary DVD, called Theramin about the Theramin and its inventor, Theramin. I found it at Blockbuster- well worth looking for. The instrument itself is amazing. It's popularly known mainly for creating wowie outer space sounds in movies like "The Day the Earth Stood Still" and for its use by the Beach Boys in "Good Vibrations." It was also a direct influence on Moog and led to such sublime albums as "Switched on Bach." But the documentary takes a twist away from just "look at this strange instrument" and becomes truly poignant (I don't think I've ever actually used that word in a sentence before). Yes, it's a poignant look at the poignant life of Theramin and the poignant lives of his friends. Breathtakingly poignant.

Oh, let's see, and I also rented The Mothman Prophecies recently. Not very poignant, I must say, but it was pretty creepy. I actually found myself liking Richard Gere in the part. Very little gore, but it did give me some chills. Not quite as nauseatingly nightmarish as The Ring which I found a little bit too nightmarish for my taste.

Everything

happens, or does it? One way of looking at it, there is only the present moment. The entire "past" is just the experience of memories in the present moment. The "future" is just the experience of imagined, anticipated events, thoughts of them, that is, in the present moment. And those events never happen the way we imagine they will. But if and when they do happen, it's always in the present moment. But if we say, "the present is all that exists," we automatically bring the past and future into existence, since speaking of the present only makes sense if there is a past and future to contrast it with. So past, future, and the present are all the same thing. Call it existence. Call it anything you like. But whatever you call it. You're off the mark. Naming it separates it from you, and have you ever known anything that didn't have you attached? Of course not, because for you to know it, or know about it, to experience it, your own presence is required. You, the process of knowing, and the thing known are all part of one indivisible whole.

Here's something I wrote a little over thirty years ago:

I hear the wind that blows
through the leaves in the trees at night,
soft sighing sounds,
mysterious.
I hear it and I know
I am the wind that blows
I am the night
and I go
I go.

I was sitting in the library at Southern Illinois University when I wrote that. As I sat there, Donna Kuper, who I was a bit in love with at the time, came walking up. I showed her the poem, she read it and said nothing, she just looked at me with those magical eyes, smiled slightly, and nodded. She had black hair and blue eyes, eyes that transformed a fairly plain face into a dream. But she was beyond me, mostly, except for a few ecstatic moments together that were never quite consumated. And she dated graduate students, published poets, and the odd sociology professor on the sly. She was ahead of me and picking up speed. It wouldn't have worked. But I was in love with her. One day, towards the end of the summer we graduated, I saw her in the Student Union Building cafeteria. We spoke a bit, who knows of what, then she said she was late for an art class,"I'll see you later, ok?" We always ran into each other. But, as it happened, I never saw her again.

Now, did that happen and then pass away? Or does that moment of parting exist, frozen forever, not in the past, not in the future, but eternaly there/here in some corner of reality that I'm simply not able to perceive? If past, future and present are all the same, is my lost youth, then, still here with me behind some door, in some mirror-hidden corner, some dimension of reality, that my little mind is simply not equiped to perceive?

The Unthinkable

Wow. This guy thinks the unthinkable and makes it sound reasonable. It won't happen. But maybe it should.

The Works of Shakespeare

were not written by the clod William Shaksper from Stratford on the Avon. Did I tell you that, yet? They were probably written by the Earl of Oxford. Just have an open mind.

Which Is It?

Am I totally crazy? Or am I just really lucky?