give me life
give me pain
give me myself again

Tom Robbins is a master of prose. I will get adventurous and bustling and busy and post some quotes from the book I'm (re)reading, but right now? I'm to bed. It's late. I have an herb store to run tomorrow. Things to see. People to do. In any case, between my taxes and my drinking habits, I may well not post for a few days. Or I may post impulsively and profusely at three am on a Sunday. We'll see.

Thing Which Are Also Cool
and/or Convince me it's a good idea to keep breathing:

Crushed velvet
Cheese in the shape of beer steins (Yo, Wisconsin! Shout out to Mars' Cheese Castle! The cool people know what I'm talking about!)
back rubs
potato clocks
snarky stickers
bubble wrap
fortune cookies
NAUGHTY fortune cookies
Indecent cakes (carolyn....)
Corn dildoes ("From One Midwestern Girl To Another....")
Butter sculptures
Chocolate chip cookie dough
candle wax
baby plants
Amsterdam
coffee with cinnamon

My friend Carolyn rocks. I mean, I say this all the time, but only because it is completely and utterly true. As most women are acutely aware, it is very difficult to find other Sisters. In the grand scheme of things, you don't know what life will bring you; and when you have good people with you it's that much better. And the best thing about carolyn is that she understands the intrinsic and visceral importance of footwear. So to my friend Carolyn, who sent me this fabulous email proving how wonderful she is, I say:

You rock.

"okay, so i've told you that right now is parade season, and how the people in
the parades throw shit to the spectators. most of the throws are beads, and a
few plastic coins. all krewes throw beads, it's a given. some will also toss
out other little prizes like small toys, silk flowers, etc. one krewe, zulu, is
well known for throwing decorated coconuts. i think now there's an ordinance
against this, after someone got injured by one (hehe).
anyway, tonight krewe of muses is rolling. muses is an all female krewe. the
members of the krewe ride the parade floats. there are also a few "goddesses"
who are permitted to dress in costume and ride horses with the parade. several
people i work with are either goddesses or muses. brenda will be riding the
float. debbie will be "domestic goddess", dress in a bathrobe, wear curlers in
her hair, and carry a decorated plunger. joy will be the "goddess of hindsight"
and is decorating her costume with eyes.
this morning i was invited to join in as a banner carrier for muses. this is
the lowliest position, but still fun. i am to dress "festively" and may throw
beads.
here's the cool part. the other thing we are throwing are *decorated shoes*.
brenda and i just got back from walmart, where we bought a bunch of cheap white
pumps, rubber bugs, silk flowers, beads, etc. instead of real work today, i am
*decorating shoes* to throw off a parade float. we will take pictures of the
finished products, and I will send them to you. i knew you'd appreciate this.
caro"

My mother spent 10 years sitting by a window
Scared if she spoke she would die of a heart attack
She listened as her dreams silently screamed
They drowned like little dolphins caught in a fishnet

Dear world i'm pleased to meet you

Hey everybody when you walk the walk
You gotta back it all up you gotta talk the talk
Hey everybody when I hear the knock
Don't wanna measure out my life to the tick of a clock

Hey everybody when my daddy died
He had a sad sad story written in his eyes
Hey everybody when you walk the walk
You cannot measure out your life to the tick of a clock

I wanna walk to the beat of my own drum
I wanna walk to the beat of my own drum

Hey everybody
Can you walk the walk you gotta back it all up
But can you talk the talk
Hey everybody
can you walk the walk?

I wanna walk to the beat of my own drum
(Say what?)
I wanna walk to the beat of my own drum
(Say what?)

I wanna walk to the beat of my own drum
I wanna live to the beat of my own drum
I wanna take to the beat of my own drum
I wanna hang ten, high, say pleased to meet you

Give to the beat of my own drum
I wanna sing to the beat of my own drum

I wanna fly, cry, win, lose, live, die, take five
Pleased to meet you

My daddy spent 10 years living on the outside looking in
He thought that he would never get back
Watched his dream walk across a silver screen
And he was standing there when the theatre went pitch black

Dear world I'm pleased to meet you

Hey everybody when I walk the walk
I gotta back it all up I vgotta talk the talk
Hey everybody when I hear the knock
Don't wanna measure out my life to the tick of a clock

Hey everybody--can you walk the walk?

I wanna walk to the beat of my own drum
(Say what?)
I wanna walk to the beat of my own drum
(Say what?)

I wanna live to the beat of my own drum
I wanna laugh to the beat of my own drum
I wanna play to the beat of my own drum
I wanna hang ten, high, say pleased to meet you

I wanna screw up to the beat of my own drum
I wanna take it out of town and do it to my drum

Scream shout
Wipe out
Make love to my baby

Father: It's a wonderful idea, but it doesn't work.

My own drum my own beat

Hey did you ever get the feeling that it's really a joke
You think you've got it figured out and then you find that you don't
So you say goodbye to the world and now you're floating in space
You got no sense of nothing not even a time or a place
Then suddenly you hear it it's the beat of your heart
And for the first time in your life you know your life is about to start

I wanna walk to the beat of my own drum

--"Walk the Walk", POE

"Bitterness and defeat dogged my every step, and more than once I considered quitting alcohol just so I could have a self-destructive vice to pick up."

--"One Pieces of Mouse", Don Alsafi

My friend Zach the leftist muppet is cool. I love Zach.

I forgot to link to my friend Don's blog. It's cool.

Well, gosh darn, God Bless America. What more can you possibly say?

I'm all choked up.

but there is beauty in the world still.

I RESIST I RESIST I RESIST.
THIS IS NOT MY WAR.
I DO NOT BELIEVE PRESIDENT CHICKENSHORTS.

"Remember the last War on Terror? - 60 years ago, on Feb. 22 1943, three students of the Munich-based resistance group “White Rose” were executed for inciting young people to rise against Hitler - a fact that many young Germans today are unaware of."

to be read.

you know? I never figured out that this song was about the bizarre Salvador Dali movie "un chien andalou" until just right now

even though I've been grooving to it moving to it moshing till my head hurt for years to it

"got me a movie
i want you to know
slicing up eyeballs
i want you to know
girlie so groovy
i want you to know
don't know about you
but i am un chien andalusia
wanna grow
up to be
be a debaser, debaser

got me a movie
ha ha ha ho
slicing up eyeballs
ha ha ha ho
girlie so groovie
ha ha ha ho
don't know about you
but i am un chien andalusia

debaser"

-"debaser" the pixies

hacking the memes

you are a beautiful and unique snowflake
totalitarianism for dummies

operating system for humans

We rally against the war for one reason and one reason only. Because it is an irrational option to use a bomb as a problem solving device.

sheep and butter for peace.

Well.

Apparently my fiddling worked, as everything is Well and Good with the blog now. I have no idea why. Perhaps the gremlins took pity on me; perhaps my swearing and random deletions of html tags worked; perhaps I just needed to beat it into submission. So all ya'll Computer Geeks (tm) can pack up your O'Reilly HTML manuals and go back to the warm glow of your monitors, because The Herbalist Chick Did It. She Doesn't Know How, Exactly, But It Seems To Be Working, And She's Not Going To Fuck With It Anymore.

And yes, Michael, there are *even more* errors now--230 up from 218--but you know what? I don't care. I am going to wantonly disregard it. Especially since I'm fairly sure that the html code I'm using is some bastardized Blog*Spot hybrid and not html 4.01 anyway. I can sleep at nights without worrying about it.

In any case, it's back to normal, the archives work, and for the first time in months ALL the archives are there, not just the ones from 01.01.03 onward, so all ya'll that are seriously in need of sleep, or have way too much free time, can read From The Beginning. The Genesis of Herbivorous, so to speak.

But don't ask me to fix broken links. Unless they were really *cool* links, that is.

Word o' The Day:

"craphound"

heh.

Dedicated to Emily and Paul

I love you both.


"The Luckiest"

I don't get many things right the first time
In fact, I am told that a lot
Now I know all the wrong turns, the stumbles and falls
Brought me here

And where was I before the day
That I first saw your lovely face?
Now I see it everyday
And I know

That I am
I am
I am
The luckiest

What if I'd been born fifty years before you
In a house on a street where you lived?
Maybe I'd be outside as you passed on your bike
Would I know?

And in a white sea of eyes
I see one pair that I recognize
And I know

That I am
I am
I am
The luckiest

I love you more than I have ever found a way to say to you

Next door there's an old man who lived to his nineties
And one day passed away in his sleep
And his wife; she stayed for a couple of days
And passed away

I'm sorry, I know that's a strange way to tell you that I know we belong
That I know

That I am
I am
I am
The luckiest


--"The Luckiest", Ben Folds

I may just about wet my pants. Kevin Smith is producing. Garth Ennis wrote the screeplay. And...Glenn Fabry is doing the poster art.

Glenn Fabry.

Creep yourself out for an entire day.

Huh.

Think I managed to fix it, or at least the most glaring problems.

Not quite sure how.

But don't look a gift horse in the mouth, I say.

And you know what? After further twiddling I seem to have either a) Made it worse or b) I didn't realize how bad the problem was in the first place. (I honestly don't think I made it any worse) I don't think I'm going to fix this stupid problem myself, not without spending a lot more time on it than I want to. So here's a call for all ya'll computer nerds and geeks to help a fair maiden in distress (wow. I actually managed to say that with a straight face).

I'd like to be walked thru it, though, because now I'm clearly baffled by what's going on, and I want to learn how to solve the problem for the future. Keep in mind that this process probably won't be *any* fun for you, because I am likely to start swearing at the monitor fairly early on in the process.

On the bright side, my forum is working just fine.

President Chickenshorts is lying!

okay. I don't know WTF is up with the archiving on my bloody goddamn blog, and I've twiddled with the html template a little to try and get the hideous purple numbers to go away, but as I have approximately 2.5 minute's worth of patience with computers that don't work, I haven't solved the problem yet.

There is a very good chance that I never will, although I hate it and I feel like my sleek little blog now looks chunky and awkward (especially since I have even been making the effort to format text better!) So--since I know that at least a couple of Computer Geeks (tm) are reading this thing, any hints? This all began with an attempt to make my old archives--which had been missing--come back.

So far, the old archives aren't back online, and now the blog is screwy.

Stupid computers.

This is why I am an herbalist.

The Colossal Colon Tour. No, really. These are probably our Tax Dollars At Work, although I for one would MUCH rather see a collection of oversized organs than yet another weapons program.

That's it. My solution for world peace. Instead of fighting, let's have a contest to see who can build the biggest, most anatomically correct, and presumably the most disgusting model of a diseased kidney.

Quote of the day:

"Love may be blind but lust is most certainly not."

Okay, folks. My friend Carolyn requested that I get a forum for this webpage, so here you go. This link is also up above in my little box that is kinda fucked up right now. The forum page is way boring right now, but with a little time and a little organization I should have it looking gawgeous.

This is all Carolyn's idea. Any complaints should be registered with her. Personally, I always skip the forums on webpages.

My friend Michael sent me this really neat story that ya'll should read.

From my mother:

"Hi, Girls!

Talked with Uncle Chris and Aunt Liz last night. Uncle Chris will be leaving the country on Monday. The location he will be going to is classified...."

It boils down to this: All of my political ideas, my philosophic meanderings, my intellectual reasons for abhoring our current regime--everything--has a very visceral foundation on a small and selfish personal reason: I don't want to see my family shot. I have two uncles in the military. They are both wonderful, intelligent, loving fathers, and some of the best uncles a girl could ask for. The kind of uncle that helps you fix your car if you need it. The kind of uncle that helps you figure out all the stuff in your dad's workshop when suddenly and horribly your father isn't there anymore. The kind of man who should always be there for his daughters, his nieces, his grandkids.

And now I don't even know where he will be, or what dangers he might be facing, or even whom he might be called upon to destroy.

They both have families, beautiful children, sisters and brothers and mothers and daughters-in-law and sons-in-law and stepsons and all the other pieces of families that you can think of. And somewhere, probably out in a desert far from their home, there is a horrible event occuring that will rip some men away from these things. Maybe not my uncles. Maybe not your brother. But this is the human reality--that once we allow our leaders to bring these events down upon our shoulders, it becomes so much more than foreign policy, so much more than cnn.com or a BBC newsfeed. It becomes the loss of loved ones. It becomes lives destroyed, homes burnt, and children shattered. This is the nature of war. It is not a game. It is not an act of bravery. It is the most horrible destruction human beings can visit upon each other.

I have to believe there is another way.

This link is one of the most heartwarming things I've ever seen. It has been a difficult year, and sometimes we forget that we live in a world where, even in our darkest hours, it should never be forgotten that the beauty of the human spirit can never be truly destroyed.

Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god, Dave Barry's blog.

So much time is cashed.
So much smoke is wasted.
Sudden disappearance
In the air is thick and cool.
I can't approach myself
Skidding over this perdition
And now I'm out on the verandah
When I should have gone to school.

Well I call for sleep,
But sleep it won't come to me.
Shuffling in the hallway,
I can hear him on the stairs.
I hear his lighter flicking.
I hear the soft sigh of his inhale.
And the whole width of my intentions
He exhales into the air.

--from "sleepless", soul coughing/m. doughty

so sure those girls now are in the navy
those bombs our friends can't even hurt you now
and hold those tears cause they're still on your side
don't hear the dogs barking
don't say you know we've gone andromeda
stood with those girls before
the hair in pairs it just got nasty
and now those girls are gone

So there is a children's book, Captain Underpants and the Perilous Plot of Professor Poopypants, by Dave Pilkey. In the book, the evil Professor forces everyone to assume new names, based on their old ones. Anyone's name can be changed to a silly one, based on certain letters of their original name. Using this scheme, George Bush's name is "Goober Chickenshorts".

Now, I don't know about any subversive plots disguised as children's books, but I know appropriate when I see it. So from here on out, I will only refer to that THING in the White House as "President Chickenshorts" until he is out of the Oval Office.

I HIGHLY encourage each and every one to do the same. It may be the only thing left to us, since he's gone on record saying that citizen protest simply does not matter to him. (!!!)

A letter to the London Observer from Terry Jones (yes, of Monty
Python).

Letter to the Observer
Sunday January 26, 2003
The Observer

I'm really excited by George Bush's latest reason for bombing Iraq: he's running out of patience. And so am I! For some time now I've been really pissed off with Mr Johnson who lives a couple of doors down the street.

Well, him and Mr Patel, who runs the health food shop. They both give me queer looks, and I'm sure Mr Johnson is planning something nasty for me, but so far I haven't been able to discover what.

I've been round to his place a few times to see what he's up to, but he's got everything well hidden. That's how devious he is. As for Mr Patel, don't ask me how I know, I just know - from very good sources - that he is, in reality, a Mass Murderer. I have leafleted the street telling them that if we don't act first, he'll pick us off one by one. Some of my neighbours say, if I've got proof, why don't I go to the police? But that's simply ridiculous. The police will say that they need evidence of a crime with which to charge my neighbours.

They'll come up with endless red tape and quibbling about the rights and wrongs of a pre-emptive strike and all the while Mr Johnson will be finalising his plans to do terrible things to me, while Mr Patel will be secretly murdering people.

Since I'm the only one in the street with a decent range of automatic firearms, I reckon it's up to me to keep the peace. But until recently that's been a little difficult. Now, however, George W. Bush has made it clear that all I need to do is run out of patience, and then I can wade in and do whatever I want!

And let's face it, Mr Bush's carefully thought-out policy towards Iraq is the only way to bring about international peace and security. The one certain way to stop Muslim Fundamentalist suicide bombers targeting the US or the UK is to bomb a few Muslim countries that have never threatened us.

That's why I want to blow up Mr Johnson's garage and kill his wife and children. Strike first! That'll teach him a lesson. Then he'll leave us in peace and stop peering at me in that totally unacceptable way.

Mr Bush makes it clear that all he needs to know before bombing Iraq is that Saddam is a really nasty man and that he has weapons of mass destruction - even if no one can find them. I'm certain I've just as much justification for killing Mr Johnson's wife and children as Mr Bush has for bombing Iraq. Mr Bush's long-term aim is to make the world a safer place by eliminating 'rogue states' and 'terrorism'. It's such a clever long-term aim because how can you ever know when you've achieved it?

How will Mr Bush know when he's wiped out all terrorists? When every single terrorist is dead? But then a terrorist is only a terrorist once he's committed an act of terror.

What about would-be terrorists? These are the ones you really want to eliminate, since most of the known terrorists, being suicide bombers, have already eliminated themselves.

Perhaps Mr Bush needs to wipe out everyone who could possibly be a future terrorist? Maybe he can't be sure he's achieved his objective until every Muslim fundamentalist is dead? But then some moderate Muslims might convert to fundamentalism. Maybe the only really safe thing to do would be for Mr Bush to eliminate all Muslims?

It's the same in my street. Mr Johnson and Mr Patel are just the tip of the iceberg. There are dozens of other people in the street who I don't like and who - quite frankly -look at me in odd ways. No one will be really safe until I've wiped them all out. My wife says I might be going too far but I tell her I'm simply using the same logic as the President of the United States. That shuts her up.

Like Mr Bush, I've run out of patience, and if that's a good enough reason for the President, it's good enough for me. I'm going to give the whole street two weeks - no, 10 days - to come out in the open and hand over all aliens and interplanetary hijackers, galactic outlaws, and interstellar terrorist masterminds, and if they don't hand them over nicely and say 'Thank you', I'm going to bomb the entire street to kingdom come.

It's just as sane as what George W. Bush is proposing - and, in contrast to what he's intending, my policy will destroy only one street.

New Wet Kojak
Folk Implosion
Mr. Lif
Earlimart
At The Drive-In


Indie bands have the *best* names.

What Too Much Surfing At 2am Will Get You

It's no good, I'm afraid.

My brain hurts. And I want to scrub my eyes with steel wool pads.

Other than that I'm sure I'll sleep just fine....

"These S&M people ... they are bossy!” Cho says. “There’s also a creepy connection between leather sex, ‘Star Trek’ and the Renaissance Faire.”

--Margaret Cho.


aaah.

She just described most of my *friends*.

Margaret Cho is in my personal pantheon, something like one of the SubGenius Ubergoddesses.

Lillith, one of my favorite bad girls.

“When the blessed God created the first man, whom he formed alone, without a companion, he said, ‘It is not good that the man should be alone’: and therefore he created a woman also out of the ground, and named her Lilith. They immediately began to contend with each other for superiority. The man said: ‘It behoves thee to be obedient; I am to rule over thee’. The woman replied: ‘We are on a perfect equality; for we are both formed out of the same earth’."

genesis i is SO much better than genesis ii.

"Naturally the common people don't want war: Neither in Russia, nor in England, nor for that matter in Germany. That is understood. But, after all, IT IS THE LEADERS of the country who determine the policy and it is always a simple matter to drag the people along, whether it is a democracy, or a facist dictatorship, or a parliament, or a communist dictatorship. Voice or no voice, the people can always be brought to the bidding of the leaders. That is easy. All you have to do is TELL THEM THEY ARE BEING ATTACKED, and denounce the peacemakers for lack of patriotism and exposing their country to danger. IT WORKS THE SAME IN ANY COUNTRY."

--Hermann Goering, President of the Reichstag, Nazi Party, and Luftwaffe Commander in Chief, from Gilbert, G.M. (1947). Nuremberg Diary, New York: Signet

help us....

This page too stupid.

Here's a cute picture of the kind of vicious little furball that I grew up with. The little one looks JUST like my dog Toby as a puppy.

Fox Terriers are not for the faint of heart.

"The animus in me is Raspberry Swirl, I'm in love with my women friends, but I just don't eat pussy. But I'm in love with them. If I had a different sensibility, then you know I think I could, you know, really fulfill someone down there, where a lot of men in their lives don't. And eating pussy is a metaphor, too - it's about crawling in there, being with their juices, really being with them."

--Tori Amos

living earth herbs.com

Your words burn the air
Like the names of candy bars

We Stand Passively Mute

by U.S. Senator Robert Byrd,
delivered to the U.S. Senate

To contemplate war is to think about the most horrible of human experiences. On this February day, as this nation stands at the brink of battle, every American on some level must be contemplating the horrors of war.

Yet, this Chamber is, for the most part, silent -- ominously, dreadfully silent. There is no debate, no discussion, no attempt to lay out for the nation the pros and cons of this particular war. There is nothing.

We stand passively mute in the United States Senate, paralyzed by our own uncertainty, seemingly stunned by the sheer turmoil of events. Only on the editorial pages of our newspapers is there much substantive discussion of the prudence or imprudence of engaging in this particular war.

And this is no small conflagration we contemplate. This is no simple attempt to defang a villain. No. This coming battle, if it materializes, represents a turning point in U.S. foreign policy and possibly a turning point in the recent history of the world.

This nation is about to embark upon the first test of a revolutionary doctrine applied in an extraordinary way at an unfortunate time. The doctrine of preemption -- the idea that the United States or any other nation can legitimately attack a nation that is not imminently threatening but may be threatening in the future -- is a radical new twist on the traditional idea of self defense. It appears to be in contravention of international law and the UN Charter. And it is being tested at a time of world-wide terrorism, making many countries around the globe wonder if they will soon be on our -- or some other nation's-- hit list. High level Administration figures recently refused to take nuclear weapons off of the table when discussing a possible attack against Iraq. What could be more destabilizing and unwise than this type of uncertainty, particularly in a world where globalism has tie the vital economic and security interests of many nations so closely together? There are huge cracks emerging in our time-honored alliances, and U.S. intentions are suddenly subject to damaging worldwide speculation. Anti-Americanism based on mistrust, misinformation, suspicion, and alarming rhetoric from U.S. leaders is fracturing the once solid alliance against global terrorism which existed after September 11.

Here at home, people are warned of imminent terrorist attacks with little guidance as to when or where such attacks might occur. Family members are being called to active military duty, with no idea of the duration of their stay or what horrors they may face. Communities are being left with less than adequate police and fire protection. Other essential services are also short-staffed. The mood of the nation is grim. The economy is stumbling. Fuel prices are rising and may soon spike higher.

This Administration, now in power for a little over two years, must be judged on its record. I believe that that record is dismal.

In that scant two years, this Administration has squandered a large projected surplus of some $5.6 trillion over the next decade and taken us to projected deficits as far as the eye can see. This Administration's domestic policy has put many of our states in dire financial condition, under funding scores of essential programs for our people. This Administration has fostered policies which have slowed economic growth. This Administration has ignored urgent matters such as the crisis in health care for our elderly. This Administration has been slow to provide adequate funding for homeland security. This Administration has been reluctant to better protect our long and porous borders.

In foreign policy, this Administration has failed to find Osama bin Laden. In fact, just yesterday we heard from him again marshaling his forces and urging them to kill. This Administration has split traditional alliances, possibly crippling, for all time, International order-keeping entities like the United Nations and NATO. This Administration has called into question the traditional worldwide perception of the United States as well-intentioned, peacekeeper. This Administration has turned the patient art of diplomacy into threats, labeling, and name calling of the sort that reflects quite poorly on the intelligence and sensitivity of our leaders, and which will have consequences for years to come.

Calling heads of state pygmies, labeling whole countries as evil, denigrating powerful European allies as irrelevant -- these types of crude insensitivities can do our great nation no good. We may have massive military might, but we cannot fight a global war on terrorism alone. We need the cooperation and friendship of our time-honored allies as well as the newer found friends whom we can attract with our wealth. Our awesome military machine will do us little good if we suffer another devastating attack on our homeland which severely damages our economy. Our military manpower is already stretched thin and we will need the augmenting support of those nations who can supply troop strength, not just sign letters cheering us on.

The war in Afghanistan has cost us $37 billion so far, yet there is evidence that terrorism may already be starting to regain its hold in that region. We have not found bin Laden, and unless we secure the peace in Afghanistan, the dark dens of terrorism may yet again flourish in that remote and devastated land.

Pakistan as well is at risk of destabilizing forces. This
Administration has not finished the first war against terrorism and yet it is eager to embark on another conflict with perils much greater than those in Afghanistan. Is our attention span that short? Have we not learned that after winning the war one must always secure the peace?

And yet we hear little about the aftermath of war in Iraq. In the absence of plans, speculation abroad is rife. Will we seize Iraq's oil fields, becoming an occupying power which controls the price and supply of that nation's oil for the foreseeable future? To whom do we propose to hand the reigns of power after Saddam Hussein?

Will our war inflame the Muslim world resulting in devastating attacks on Israel? Will Israel retaliate with its own nuclear arsenal? Will the Jordanian and Saudi Arabian governments be toppled by radicals, bolstered by Iran which has much closer ties to terrorism than Iraq?

Could a disruption of the world's oil supply lead to a world-wide recession? Has our senselessly bellicose language and our callous disregard of the interests and opinions of other nations increased the global race to join the nuclear club and made proliferation an even more lucrative practice for nations which need the income?

In only the space of two short years this reckless and arrogant Administration has initiated policies which may reap disastrous consequences for years.

One can understand the anger and shock of any President after the savage attacks of September 11. One can appreciate the frustration of having only a shadow to chase and an amorphous, fleeting enemy on which it is nearly impossible to exact retribution.

But to turn one's frustration and anger into the kind of extremely destabilizing and dangerous foreign policy debacle that the world is currently witnessing is inexcusable from any Administration charged with the awesome power and responsibility of guiding the destiny of the greatest superpower on the planet. Frankly many of the pronouncements made by this Administration are outrageous. There is no other word.

Yet this chamber is hauntingly silent. On what is possibly the eve of horrific infliction of death and destruction on the population of the nation of Iraq -- a population, I might add, of which over 50% is under age 15 -- this chamber is silent. On what is possibly only days before we send thousands of our own citizens to face unimagined horrors of chemical and biological warfare -- this chamber is silent. On the eve of what could possibly be a vicious terrorist attack in retaliation for our attack on Iraq, it is business as usual in the United States Senate.

We are truly "sleepwalking through history." In my heart of hearts I pray that this great nation and its good and trusting citizens are not in for a rudest of awakenings.

To engage in war is always to pick a wild card. And war must always be a last resort, not a first choice. I truly must question the judgment of any President who can say that a massive unprovoked military attack on a nation which is over 50% children is "in the highest moral traditions of our country". This war is not necessary at this time. Pressure appears to be having a good result in Iraq. Our mistake was to put ourselves in a corner so quickly. Our challenge is to now find a graceful way out of a box of our own making. Perhaps there is still a way if we allow more time.

dose of strangeness and oddity

yeah.

so.

For those of you who have never spent more than 20 minutes alone with me, if you were to make me a bet as to whether music or blood ran through my veins, I'd have to check with a razor.

When one of your favorite artists comes out with a song that pretty much sums up a hella big chunk of your life, it can kind of take your breath away, yuh? And I haven't heard this song in a few weeks, but I was thinking of a road trip from LA to New Mexico (or vice versa; it doesn't matter as it was both ways, many times), and this boy, and part of me that I met in the desert, and it got stuck in my head, because this story parallels my own right down to the Highway 101 references. And I know what it is to be an impostor in the desert. We had an argument about Oliver Stone. I'm part Blackfoot. What the hell is this crazy universe, that I get the oddest gifts left on my doorstep by faerie? When I was a child I wished that come what may, I woudn't be bored. Reap what's sowed, girlfriend.

creepy and beautiful. So here are the lyrics to "A Sorta Fairytale" by Tori Amos:


on my way up north
up on the Ventura
I pulled back the hood
and I was talking to you
and I knew then it would be
a Life Long thing
but I didn't know that we
We could break a silver lining

And I'm so sad
like a good book
I can't put this
Day Back
a sorta fairytale
with you
a sorta fairytale
with you

things you said that day
up on the 101
the girl had come undone
I tried to downplay it
with a bet about us
You said that-
You'd take it
as long as I could
I could not erase it

And I'm so sad
like a good book
I can't put this
Day Back
a sorta fairytale
with you
a sorta fairytale
with you

and I ride along side
and I rode along side
you then
and I rode along side
till you lost me there
in the open road
And I rode along side
till the honey spread
itself so thin
for me to break your bread
for me to take your word
I had to steal it

and I'm so sad
like a good book
I can't put this
Day Back
a sorta fairytale
with you
a sorta fairytale
with you
I could pick back up
whenever I feel

Down New Mexico way
something about
the open road
I knew that he was
looking for some Indian Blood and
find a little in you find a little
in me we may be
on this road but
we're just
Impostors
in this country you know
So we go along and we said
we'd fake it
feel better with
Oliver Stone
till I
almost smacked him -
seemed right that night and
I don't know what
takes hold
out there in the
desert cold
These guys think they must
Try and just get over on us

And I'm so sad
like a good book
I can't put this
Day Back
a sorta fairytale
with you
a sorta fairytale
with you

and I was ridin' by
ridin' along side
for a while till you lost me
and I was ridin' by
ridin' along till you lost me
till you lost
me in
the Rear
View
you lost me
I said

Way up North I took my day
all in all was a pretty nice
day and I put the Hood
right back where
You could taste heaven
perfectly
Feel out the summer breeze
didn't know when we'd be back
and I - I don't -
didn't think
we'd end up like
like this

copyright 2002 sword and stone

okay

so we were having a bit of a drunken argument last night:
and someone actually challenged my statement "You could be in a bright sunny field filled with flowers and puppies and kittens, and if you were listening to Radiohead you'd STILL feel like slitting your wrists" (which I actually stole from my friend cat, who said it first) and I got blank looks.

(This I said after seeing "Kid A" in a list of "music to have sex to" and remarking that that was about the worse possible music I could even think of having sex to)

But now I have to comment--
because, fer fuck's sake, I'm listening to "Everything In It's Right Place" and I can't even begin to comprehend in the smallest of measures how ANYONE could not hear this music as brilliantly, sparkingly, truly despairing music.

It's mood music for overdosing on heroin. It's the soundtrack to replaying every horrible grey image in your head, over and over again.

Listen to it.

first there are the lyrics.

"everything in its right place...yesterday I woke up sucking on a lemon"

oh my god.

Paired with the slightly discordant, minor key pulses and the distorted vox, how on the green earth can anyone NOT see this as mood music for the Throrazine Nation?

Have you folks actually LISTENED to radiohead? I mean, not all their stuff is COMPLETELY depressive, some of their trax are kind of upbeat in a manic sorta way, but for the most part--
whoo.

I'm not even able to be totally coherent about this, because Radiohead is one of my favorite bands, and my gut emotional response to their melodies is SO nonverbal. I'll have to sit on this, think about it, and come up with a reasonable commentary.

But in the meanwhile? Sex to Radiohead? um. How about we stick to Sigur Ros if we need artnoise.

Hey kids! Clip 'n save for next year!

It's late, but it's still funny. Written by a friend of a friend years ago at the University of Illinois (hence the altgeld reference):


No date tonight? No plans? Don't worry.
Valentine's Day can still be entertaining with:

FUN VALENTINE'S DAY ACTIVITIES FOR BITTER SINGLES

1) Call up couples you know while they're having sex to wish them a Happy
Valentine's Day.

2) Collect dead squirrels. Throw them at happy couples.

3) Call up people you know, to whom you're attracted, and ask them for
dates.

4) Call up complete strangers and ask them for dates.

5) Write bitter, yet witty (or not so witty) notes on the Internet computer
of
your choice.

6) Walk around town. When you run across some guy carrying a very long box
(which no doubt contains flowers), take the box and see how far you can
insert it into the end of his digestive tract of your choice.

7) Buy a high-powered rifle. Go into the bell tower of Altgeld Hall.
Assassinate couples walking on the Quad.

8) Stand on a street corner. Beg for dates.

9) Hang out with your bitter single friends, and at least one friend who is
in
a long-distance relationship (and thus is also dateless). Start whining.
When your LDR friend claims that his/her position is worse than being
single
lynch him/her.

10) Get your mind off it. Play Avatar.

11) Same as 10, except you also make comments about people who aren't
playing.
(eg. "I'm glad Gerhard Lueschen has a date tonight. I can finally make
up
some ground on him.")

12) Declare yourself the Uebermensch. You need not be bothered by other
people
and their petty emotions.

13) Capture Cupid, the cherub of Love. Pluck the feathers from his wings,
one
by one.

14) Convince yourself that Valentine's Day is merely existent for the
purpose
of merchandising. People who go on dates on Valentine's Day are selling
out.

15) Masturbate sullenly.

16) Put "The Wall" on infinite repeat.

17) Play "Love Bites" and "Don't Fuck Me Up with Peace and Love" until your
ears bleed.

18) Analyze your love life in detail. Make a list of the Top 100 things you
could have done differently so that you'd have a date tonight.

19) Bang your head against a wall until you achieve unconsciousness.

20) Reread Cerebus 186. Women are only trying to destroy you anyway.

21) Remind yourself that some very famous and successful people died
virgins.
It's not such a bad thing. Really. Honest. Okay, so Newton was a real
asshole, what's your point? Alright, alright, remove this one from the
list.

22) You have no control over the fact that members of the opposite sex don't
find you attractive. "Don't worry, be happy...*gakk*"

23) The Illuminati are thwarting your attempts at love. Be sneakier next
time.

24) Go on an innocuous dinner with a friend of the opposite sex (or the same
sex, it's the '90's, right?).

25) Kill yourself, you worthless piece of pond scum.

26) Relive your youth, when love wasn't a problem. Regress to third grade.
Say
"Crappy Valentine's Day!" to everyone, and see how many of them notice.

27) Throw Molotov cocktails into flower shops.

28) Drown yourself in sorrow, self-pity, and lots of alcohol.

...and many others! Use your imagination, or mix-and-match!

Why Your Children Shouldn't Ever Be Scared of You

from The Emotional Life of Nations
by Lloyd deMause

Not every American president has been able to resist his nation's call for
war. Studies have shown the main determinant is the kind of childhood the
president has experienced.1 Jimmy Carter was unusual in being able to draw
upon his having had fairly loving parents, in particular a mother who
encouraged his individuality and independence, a very unusual quality for a
parent in the 1920s.2 It is no coincidence that when I once collected all
the childhood photos I could find of American presidents I noticed that only
those of Jimmy Carter and Dwight Eisenhower (another president who resisted
being drawn into war) showed their mothers smiling.

Ronald Reagan's childhood, in contrast, was more like that of most
presidents: a nightmare of neglect and abuse, in his case dominated by an
obsessively religious mother and a violent, alcoholic father who, he said,
used to "kick him with his boot" and "clobber" him and his brother.3 The
result, as I have documented in my book, Reagan's America, was a childhood
of phobias and fears "to the point of hysteria," buried feelings of rage and
severe castration anxieties (the title of his autobiography was Where Is The
Rest of Me?). As an adult, Reagan took to carrying a loaded pistol, and once
considered suicide, only to be saved by the defensive maneuver of taking up
politics and becoming an anti-communist warrior, crusading against imaginary
"enemies" who were blamed for the feelings he denied in himself.4

THE PRESIDENTIAL STYLE OF GEORGE BUSH
George Bush's childhood, though not as chaotic as Reagan's, was also full of
fear and punishments. Psychohistorian Suzy Kane, interviewing George's
brother, Prescott, Jr., discovered that Bush's father often beat him on the
buttocks with a belt or a razor strap, the anticipation of which, Prescott,
Jr. recalled, made them "quiver" with fear.5 "He took us over his knee and
whopped us with his belt," Prescott said. "He had a strong arm, and boy, did
we feel it."6 As he admitted to Kane, "We were all scared of him. We were
scared to death of Dad when we were younger." Childhood classmates of George
described his father as "aloof and distant...formidable and stern...very
austere and not a warm person." "Dad was really scary," George himself once
admitted.7 As a result, a desperate need to please was George's main trait
as a child, and a depressive personality with an overwhelming need to
placate became his trademarks as president.

more here

This is the most fabulous dress that I've ever seen. (picture on the top right corner)

Boy, girl, automatic weapons, fire, etc.

Exits to freeways
twisted like knots on
the fingers
jewels cleaving
skin between
breasts.

Your Cadillac breathes
four hundred horses
over blue lines
you are going
to Reseda
to make love
to a model
from Ohio
whose real name
you don't
know

you spin
like the cadillac was
overturning down a
cliff on television
and the radio is on
and the radioman is speaking
and the radioman says
women were a curse
so men built Paramount
studios
and men built Columbia
studios
and men built
Los Angeles

it is 5 am
and you are listening
to Los Angeles

And the radioman says
it is a beautiful night out there!
And the radioman says
Rock and Roll lives!
And the radioman says
it is a beautiful night out there
in Los Angeles
you live
in Los Angeles
and you are going to
Reseda; we are all
in some way or
another going to
Reseda someday
to die
and the radioman
laughs because
the radioman fucks
a model too

Gone savage
for teenagers with
automatic weapons and
boundless love
gone savage for
teenagers who are
aesthetically pleasing
in other words
fly
Los Angeles beckons
the teenagers
to come to her
on buses;
Los Angeles loves
love

it is 5 am
and you are listening
to Los Angeles

I am going to
Los Angeles
to built a screenplay about
lovers who
murder each
other
I am going to
Los Angeles
to see my own
name on a
screen, five feet
long and luminous
as the radioman says
it is 5 am
and the sun has charred
the other side of
the world and come
back to us
and painted the smoke
over our heads
an imperial violet
it is 5 am
and you are listening
to Los Angeles.

You are listening.
You are listening.
You are listening.
You are listening.


--"screenwriter's blues", m. doughty/soul coughing

soul coughing is dead. long live soul coughing.

Oh! Let's all get on the Substance Abuse Trolley!
Whether it's beer or gin
Coffee or cigarettes
The Substance Abuse Trolley can take you away!

Away workaday cares! Away worries and fears!
The Substance Abuse Trolley is rolling away!
Whether it's beer or gin
Cigarettes or coffee or cough syrup
The Substance Abuse Trolley can take you away!

Sleep deprivation, nonsense and stuff
We'll sing songs to our navels
As we glide merrily along
The conductor is jolly,
The sun's shining brightly
And the Substance Abuse Trolley
is sailing away!

On caffeine! On sugar!
On liquor or Jolt!
Methylxanthines are merry
Ethyl and Methyl are gay
And the Substance Abuse Trolley
is sailing away!

Whether it's beer or gin
Cigarettes or coffee or cough syrup
Tryptamines or indoles or chemical soup
The Substance Abuse Trolley can take you away!

Thank the universe for eating the post I was just about to put up.

it was truly bad poetry.

but the universe ate it.

proof of its intrinsic beauty grace and intelligence.

life used to be life-like
now it's more like showbiz
i wake up in the night
and i don't know where the bathroom is
and i don't know what town i'm in
or what sky i am under
and i wake up in the darkness and i
don't have the will anymore to wonder
everyone has a skeleton
and a closet to keep it in
and your mine
every song has a you
a you that the singer sings to
and you're it this time
baby, you're it this time

when i need to wipe my face
i use the back of my hand
and i like to take up space
just because i can
and i use my dress
to wipe up my drink
i care less and less
what people think
and you are so lame
you always dissapoint me
it's kind of like our running joke
but it's really not funny
and i just want you to live up to
the image of you i create
i see you and i'm so unsatisfied
i see you and i dialate

so i'll walk the plank
and i'll jump with a smile
if i'm gonna go down
i'm gonna do it with style
and you won't see me surrender
you won't hear me confess
'cuz you've left me with nothing
but i've worked with less
and i learn every room long enough
to make it to the door
and then i hear it click shut behind me
and every key works differently
i forget everytime
and forgetting defines me
that's what defines me

when i say you sucked my brain out
the english translation
is i am in love with you
and it is no fun
but i don't use words like love
'cuz works like that don't matter
but don't look so offended
you know, you should be flattered
and i wake up in the night
in some big hotel bed
and my hands grope for the light
and my hands grope for my head
the world is my oyster
the road is my home
and i know that i'm better
off alone

--dilate, ani difranco
copyright righteous babe records

language can't cut it, either. So I'm not saying to stop trying, but enough already.

stupid boys always complicating things. it's pretty much oceanic. no stupid bloody platonic ideals to back it up, the equations at best will only show fragments, and if they don't stop throwing around the word "holographic" i'm going to be violently ill. yes, it's a lot like light, but it's a lot more like our perception of light. why do you think that so many scientists and shamans are male? if you carry life in your belly than it's a lot more intrinsically understood, i think. but i digress. If they'd only stop worrying about time and reality so much...

blat.

I can't sleep.

I've played all the Minesweeper that it's healthy for a person to play.

I've done useless web searches for old boyfriends' phone numbers.

I've read my horoscope.

I've read interviews of musicians I like.

I looked at a book of Raphael's sketches from the British Royal Collection.

I tried to read a novel.

I ate a little cheese.

and....I.....still....can't....SLEEP.

2am

can't sleep clown'll eat me. can't sleep clown'll eat me. can't sleep clown'll eat me. can't sleep clown'll eat me. can't sleep clown'll eat me. can't sleep clown'll eat me. can't sleep clown'll eat me. can't sleep clown'll eat me. can't sleep clown'll eat me. can't sleep clown'll eat me. can't sleep clown'll eat me. can't sleep clown'll eat me. can't sleep clown'll eat me. can't sleep clown'll eat me. can't sleep clown'll eat me. can't sleep clown'll eat me. can't sleep clown'll eat me. can't sleep clown'll eat me. can't sleep clown'll eat me. can't sleep clown'll eat me.can't sleep clown'll eat me. can't sleep clown'll eat me. can't sleep clown'll eat me. can't sleep clown'll eat me. can't sleep clown'll eat me. can't sleep clown'll eat me. can't sleep clown'll eat me. can't sleep clown'll eat me. can't sleep clown'll eat me. can't sleep clown'll eat me. can't sleep clown'll eat me. can't sleep clown'll eat me. can't sleep clown'll eat me. can't sleep clown'll eat me. can't sleep clown'll eat me. can't sleep clown'll eat me. can't sleep clown'll eat me. can't sleep clown'll eat me. can't sleep clown'll eat me.can't sleep clown'll eat me. can't sleep clown'll eat me. can't sleep clown'll eat me. can't sleep clown'll eat me. can't sleep clown'll eat me. can't sleep clown'll eat me. can't sleep clown'll eat me. can't sleep clown'll eat me. can't sleep clown'll eat me.

speaking of the Oscar Meyer Weinermobile, this guy thinks a lot like me.

nature is pissed

--that's on the t-shirt I'm buyin' as soon as my credit card gets here. It shows an *angry daisy*. i'm fairly certain that there is nothing more cool in the entire universe this moment. an *angry daisy*. I may even buy two, one for my friend caro who loves daisies and needs a fun t-shirt right now. (so if you're reading this carolyn, don't get yer hopes up or anything. maybe you should just forget you ever read this. yeah. that's it. you are getting sleepy....very sleepy....)

but then, i haven't spoken to carolyn since she got 29 sugar gliders delivered to her bug room (no, carolyn isn't really, really weird. Well, okay, maybe she's a little weird, but she also works in a zoo, which explains the sugar gliders and the bugs. carolyn has the World's Coolest Job. she shows insects to children. she gets to drive around new orleans in a "bugmobile" and show elementary schoolchildren giant hissing cockroaches. there may be cooler jobs--driving the oscar mayer weinermobile around europe would be (this is an actual job. really. if I didn't have a good job right now i would SO be all over that.)--but not many in the continental 48.

now, granted, as you may well imagine a job like that--probably because it is so cool that it's just karma-balancing--pays bupkiss, which is why I feel that she needs an angry daisy shirt. but then again, right now *i* have a job that pays bupkiss, as well, and i need to drive cross-country in a few weeks in a very fuel-inefficient truck full of crap. so maybe the angry daisy shirts will have to wait for both of us. then again, if you can't buy an angry daisy shirt once in awhile, what's the sense of going to work at all? this sort of practical dilemma is what keeps me up nights. that, and the fact that i keep getting visited by dragons, but that's another tale.

then again, it is a *credit card* and there is nothing more american than buying useless impulse items on credit. so maybe i will be getting angry daisy shirts. then again, there's a whole lot of cool shit at cost plus that i want for my room. i'm getting curtains for my bed and a candelabra and these bitchin' chinese silk throw pillows and if i have room i want a papasan. that's probably about $200 worth of gear right there. sigh. i am such the consumer tonight. it's cos i just got paid, i promise, usually i'm not so bad.

and i did get demon-frightening bells for the store tonight, but those were cheap. demon-frightening bells? you say. what kind of funky plant matter is this girl smoking *this time*? well, actually, they sound beautiful, and a lot of cultures have some tradition of ringing bells or setting off fireworks or whatnot to scare away demons/malicious energies, and so while i really don't know if I "believe" in "demons", i also figure that 5,000 years of Chinese tradition can't be total shite. who knows? i sure as hell don't. and they sound pretty, so i imagine that while they might not scare away demons (although they might) they very well may *attract customers*. and besides. what if they do scare away demons? just because i've never met one doesn't mean they don't exist. except that i think i may have met one, once, but then again i was fifteen and who knows what kind of hormones were whizzing thru my system at that point. i'm not willing to believe anything i saw for about three solid years during adolescence, and i'm not entirely sure about myself now, either.

Quote o' the Day:

"Sorry I missed church, but I've been busy practicing witchcraft and becoming a lesbian"

--Compliments of this site.

For some unknown reason, my sister has taken to collecting airline vomit bags for me whenever she travels. I never asked for them, and I never quite know what to *do* with them. It seems ungrateful to just throw them away, but they're not quite stylish enough for me to use them for my home decorating needs. But if I'd known about Design for Chunks, I would have been set. The thing is, these are absolutely BRILLIANT. I would easily have framed these. Some of the best graphic art I've seen in awhile, no kidding.

I love this man.

Top 118 Reasons Why Tamara Should Go Out With Rob.

No, really.

Some nights--like tonight--I stay up really late being bored.

Laugh 'till you puke.

I'd forgotten about this site and his great stickers. Go consume for the Anti-Man, folks.

"I think the species made terrible choices a long time ago when it turned everything over to the traders and the high priests. The human spirit was, I think, stunted at that point, because the pursuit of material goods and the belief in the invisible man in the sky don't seem to be the ideal end result of this sort of a brain. The thing that makes us so special is this wonderful brain we have, and I think it could have led to some better places than that. To have the latest sneakers with lights in them, and to have a Jet Ski and to believe that a man in the sky died for your sins, it's just very, very primitive."
- George Carlin, comedian

Meine lieblingsten Schwester also had this to add to my Horrible Commercial Rant:

"ps. fuck stupid people and this stupid VD shit
and you forgot one awful commercial..the ford windstar commercial that is
the perscription for the overbusy women. it ends showing a happy woman in
pink and pearls serving cake.

fuck them with a pointy stick"

Yes. Yes, indeed. Fuck them with a pointy stick.

My sister is good at sending me nice cartoons. This one is particularly nice. Get to it, folks.

From 1996-2000 Eighty-Six percent of the stock market’s advances went to the wealthiest ten percent of our world. In 1965 the average U.S. worker made $7.52 per hour while the average executive made $330.38 per hour… but over the past 20 years the average US worker’s wage has slumped to $7.39 per hour while the average CEO wage has skyrocketed to $1,566.68 per hour, the transfer of wealth from the increasingly poor to the increasingly rich. Today the average executive makes 419 times more than the average blue-collar worker. If the hourly worker’s wages had risen at the same rate as the CEO’s, the average worker would be earning $110,399 per year instead of $29,267. Now 358 people own the same amount of assets as 45% of the world’s population. The richest 20% own 80% of the resources while the poorest 20% own 1.4%.

Q: Why isn't this in the headlines everywhere?

A: Because it's not even considered news anymore.

Marty Beckerman is my personal hero.

Too bad he's only 18, and in Alaska.

I have a rant. It's been building for awhile, and today I finally saw a commercial that made me want to take action with a sledgehammer. I bring you:

Advertisements That Have Convinced Me To Completely Avoid The Product

1. Any SUV commercial that shows offroading in some pristine wilderness.

Okay, ignoring the fact that SUVs are dangerous, gas-guzzling behemoths of uncontrolled American consumerism, do you know how much DAMAGE they can cause? When you see a shiny Ford Explorer going through a streambed, all I can think of is "Wow. That's A LOT of destroyed habitat right there." If you want to visit the goddamn wilderness, BUY A GODDAMN BACKPACK ALREADY. It kind of defeats the purpose if you're in an air-conditioned truck.

2. That irritating feminine hygiene commercial that actually says, "The best thing to happen to women since push-up bras"

Wow. Was that supposed to be cute? Um. I don't own a push-up bra, never have owned a push-up bra, don't plan on ever owing a fucking push-up bra, and in fact, if you get right down to it, the whole concept of push-up bras might be kinda fun for some gals, but I DEFINITELY wouldn't call effective bosom display an "advancement". How about something like, "The best thing to happen to women since getting the vote"? That would have gotten my attention. So screw you and your goddamn velcro wings or whatever you're shilling, but I ain't buyin'.

3. Any Pharmaceutical Advertisement, Ever

HOW CRAZY IS IT THAT WE THINK WE SHOULD TELL PEOPLE WHAT TO ASK THEIR DOCTORS FOR?!?!?!??! Um. Do you really think that a 30 second spot filled with artificially bright grass is a good basis for choosing medication? "Well, doc, I know you spent over 10 years in medical school and residency and all, but, you see, I saw this commercial....." Doctors HATE this nonsense, and I totally agree. Even worse are the creepy commercials where you can call for a "free information packet" on whatever flavor-of-the-day disorder has the most shiny new drug, sponsored by (surprise) a company manufacturing a drug to treat that problem. It's sketchy, it undermines the authority of physicians, and it's just plain horrible to SELL medication like cars or bagels.

4. Commercials by horrible polluting industries trying to tell me they're part of a Brighter Tomorrow

This includes all the "Plastic is Wonderful!" spots, the "Genetically Modified Crops Will End World Hunger!" business, any commercial by a petroleum company that actually expects me to believe that they're "researching energy alternatives" (apparently bombing Iraq is "research"), and pretty much anything sponsored by any company that also makes weapons.

5. Telecom Companies Pretending They're Not Screwing Us Blind

Look, deregulation did give us more choices, but it also gave corporations all sorts of shiny new fees, costs, one-time service charges, deposits, etc., etc., etc. to levy on the Unsuspecting Consumer. I know that I will be screwed. The question is how badly, and in what way. Whether it's a cell phone, long distance, or even local service, I'm going to pay more than I expected to, service won't be as good as promised, and I'll be on hold for a really really long time when I call about some mystery fee on my bill. Could you just be honest? Yeah, right. And I'd also like a pony while you're at it.

6. Commercials that appropriate awesome songs.

John Lee Hooker's classic "Boom Boom Boom" is now a motherfucking car commercial. Something died inside me the day United stole Rhapsody in Blue, and it's just getting worse.
.
*end rant*

Making Enron look like a lemonade stand.

Well this is interesting....

when the going gets tough, the weird turn pro.

Relax. I'm a PROFESSIONAL. *evil grin*

Let's all sing along with the Dead Milkmen:
"Fucked up world!
Fucked up world!
We're all living in a FUCKED...UP...WORLD!"

Powdered Water

I heard Ani DiFranco recite this--"Self Evident"-- in October of 2001--when everything was still very fresh, and the poem itself was so new that she was actually reading it from notes, with no backing music or any sort of performance bells and whistles. It was raw, it was true, it made me proud to be human in a very horrible time. So I'm posting it, and you should read it, because it is beautiful, and strange, and true:

yes,
us people are just poems
we're 90% metaphor
with a leanness of meaning
approaching hyper-distillation
and once upon a time
we were moonshine
rushing down the throat of a giraffe
yes, rushing down the long hallway
despite what the p.a. announcement says
yes, rushing down the long stairs
with the whiskey of eternity
fermented and distilled
to eighteen minutes
burning down our throats
down the hall
down the stairs
in a building so tall
that it will always be there
yes, it's part of a pair
there on the bow of noah's ark
the most prestigious couple
just kickin back parked
against a perfectly blue sky
on a morning beatific
in its indian summer breeze
on the day that america
fell to its knees
after strutting around for a century
without saying thank you
or please

and the shock was subsonic
and the smoke was deafening
between the setup and the punch line
cuz we were all on time for work that day
we all boarded that plane for to fly
and then while the fires were raging
we all climbed up on the windowsill
and then we all held hands
and jumped into the sky

and every borough looked up when it heard the first blast
and then every dumb action movie was summarily surpassed
and the exodus uptown by foot and motorcar
looked more like war than anything i've seen so far
so far
so far
so fierce and ingenious
a poetic specter so far gone
that every jackass newscaster was struck dumb and stumbling
over 'oh my god' and 'this is unbelievable' and on and on
and i'll tell you what, while we're at it
you can keep the pentagon
keep the propaganda
keep each and every tv
that's been trying to convince me
to participate
in some prep school punk's plan to perpetuate retribution
perpetuate retribution
even as the blue toxic smoke of our lesson in retribution
is still hanging in the air
and there's ash on our shoes
and there's ash in our hair
and there's a fine silt on every mantle
from hell's kitchen to brooklyn
and the streets are full of stories
sudden twists and near misses
and soon every open bar is crammed to the rafters
with tales of narrowly averted disasters
and the whiskey is flowin
like never before
as all over the country
folks just shake their heads
and pour

so here's a toast to all the folks who live in palestine
afghanistan
iraq

el salvador

here's a toast to the folks living on the pine ridge reservation
under the stone cold gaze of mt. rushmore

here's a toast to all those nurses and doctors
who daily provide women with a choice
who stand down a threat the size of oklahoma city
just to listen to a young woman's voice

here's a toast to all the folks on death row right now
awaiting the executioner's guillotine
who are shackled there with dread and can only escape into their heads
to find peace in the form of a dream

cuz take away our playstations
and we are a third world nation
under the thumb of some blue blood royal son
who stole the oval office and that phony election
i mean
it don't take a weatherman
to look around and see the weather
jeb said he'd deliver florida, folks
and boy did he ever

and we hold these truths to be self evident:
#1 george w. bush is not president
#2 america is not a true democracy
#3 the media is not fooling me
cuz i am a poem heeding hyper-distillation
i've got no room for a lie so verbose
i'm looking out over my whole human family
and i'm raising my glass in a toast

here's to our last drink of fossil fuels
let us vow to get off of this sauce
shoo away the swarms of commuter planes
and find that train ticket we lost
cuz once upon a time the line followed the river
and peeked into all the backyards
and the laundry was waving
the graffiti was teasing us
from brick walls and bridges
we were rolling over ridges
through valleys
under stars
i dream of touring like duke ellington
in my own railroad car
i dream of waiting on the tall blonde wooden benches
in a grand station aglow with grace
and then standing out on the platform
and feeling the air on my face

give back the night its distant whistle
give the darkness back its soul
give the big oil companies the finger finally
and relearn how to rock-n-roll
yes, the lessons are all around us and a change is waiting there
so it's time to pick through the rubble, clean the streets
and clear the air
get our government to pull its big dick out of the sand
of someone else's desert
put it back in its pants
and quit the hypocritical chants of
freedom forever

cuz when one lone phone rang
in two thousand and one
at ten after nine
on nine one one
which is the number we all called
when that lone phone rang right off the wall
right off our desk and down the long hall
down the long stairs
in a building so tall
that the whole world turned
just to watch it fall


and while we're at it
remember the first time around?
the bomb?
the ryder truck?
the parking garage?
the princess that didn't even feel the pea?
remember joking around in our apartment on avenue D?

can you imagine how many paper coffee cups would have to change their design
following a fantastical reversal of the new york skyline?!

it was a joke, of course
it was a joke
at the time
and that was just a few years ago
so let the record show
that the FBI was all over that case
that the plot was obvious and in everybody's face
and scoping that scene
religiously
the CIA
or is it KGB?
committing countless crimes against humanity
with this kind of eventuality
as its excuse
for abuse after expensive abuse
and it didn't have a clue
look, another window to see through
way up here
on the 104th floor
look
another key
another door
10% literal
90% metaphor
3000 some poems disguised as people
on an almost too perfect day
should be more than pawns
in some asshole's passion play
so now it's your job
and it's my job
to make it that way
to make sure they didn't die in vain
sshhhhhh....
baby listen
hear the train?

words and music by ani difranco © 2002 righteous babe music / BMI

soundtrack 2/9

Is she weird--pixies
most of "dummy"-portishead
latin joint--baby buddha heads
tombigbee--tori amos (rumbly bass riot)
miles davis (thanx adam)
early Metallica guitar solos
Serge Gainsbourg
70's-era Paul Simon

Favorite Inexplicable Lyric for the Week:

"You are so beautiful
You should be guided by monkeys,
You are so beautiful"

--Cracker

"So let me get this straight: GERMANY doesn't want to fight...and they're siding with FRANCE?!?!?!"

--Jon Stewart, The Daily Show

I'm lying awake but drifting in and out of the first plateau of sleep when my eyes blink open and I see the back of the couch half-lit. The curve of the brown upholstery reminds me of something ominous, a sandstone megalith of ponderous proportions. I wake more fully, and think, my god, it's just the couch. What in that moment caused such an odd, unsettling association? And then I start thinking about the nature of art and artists, how we all take things out of context, on a daily basis, and create art in our heads, but the trick of an artist is to project it onto a medium that communicates this new, out-of-context perspective to others. I also thought about how the curves of the couch elicited such a response in *my* head, because of the unique cultural mishmash inhabiting my skull, especially after I realized that the curve of the back of the couch was reminding me of some well-written (Alan Moore I think) comic book character from back in my drugs-and-college days. It's interesting--the fact that in my childhood I totally avoided "pop culture" writing in order to soak up Great Books made me uniquely suited to taking comic books--of the "graphic novel" variety--very, very seriously indeed when I finally got around to admitting that maybe I should look into the culture around me and not what has gone before. But reality is a very thin membrane at best, and it's always good if we recognize that even deep seated fears are often just reflections of something our brains have seized on as important, even if it "really" "isn't". I say "really" because nobody has any idea of what "real" is, and "isn't" because "is" assumes that there is a "real".

Now that I've deconstructed the couch, I'm going back to bed. I only hope it's there when I get back.

Review of the Memorial Sloan-Kettering Cancer Center herbal webpage:

Clearly written by non-herbalists. Has some good info, but A LOT of crap. The most glaring issue I found in a very perfunctory search was a confusion between baikal skullcap (Scutellaria baicalensis) and American skullcap, (Scutellaria laterifolia). These are very different plants, used for different things, and they were clearly lumped together under the heading for "baikal skullcap". The germander toxicity mentioned was an issue with AMERICAN skullcap, and it wouldn't happen w/ baikal, since we use the aerial parts for american, and the root of baikal. Whatever. SO they have this really scary website, with "purported uses" of herbs, that CLEARLY was written by a person with a medical background and NO background--or insufficient background--in herbal medicine. Yet another arrogant attempt by physicians to act like they have a clue about herbs. I would NEVER pretend to be an expert on drug therapy--why the hell do they insist that they know more about plants than herbalists?

*end rant*

The Best Horoscope I've Ever Received (thanks to Rob Brezny):

"LIBRA (Sept. 23-Oct. 22): In ancient Rome, it was compulsory
for everyone to learn how to gamble and throw dice from a young
age. The ancient Greek legal system made it a criminal offense to
remain sober during the yearly festival of Dionysus. In this
tradition, I'm issuing the following mandate: By order of cosmic
law, you must enjoy sexual pleasure in abundance during the
coming week. Two corollaries: Your quest for erotic joy must be
free of compulsive behavior. You must use all your Libran
ingenuity to carry out your assignment with a spirit of love,
fun, and generosity."

Yow.

Is the world really going to hell? Hunter S. Thompson says the American Dream is over, the government isn't even pretending to make sense, we're bombing brown people again, and chemical companies continue to belch out products with little or no testing that may or may not seriously disrupt our bodies' communication systems.

But then I drive over a bridge, and the river below looks so incredibly powerful and beautiful that for a minute, I actually ache. It sounds so trite, so sappy, but that's probably because it's a fairly universal feeling. Humans, as a whole, are wired for hope. Maybe that's why we fuck up so much--because we're always thinking about a second chance that may or may not be there--but perhaps we know something on one level that isn't accessible to our conscious level. Maybe hope is the best path, the one that will make the most sense, even though it doesn't seem reasonable.

Guernica is one of my favorite paintings.

* Written 1:19 pm Feb 4, 2003 by sundiver@1x5.imsa.edu in 1x5:spur.posse */
/* ---------- "Not Even Pretending Any More" ---------- */
http://www.artdaily.com/noticiaframe.asp?not=11&fnot=2/2/2003

Guernica Reproduction Covered at UN

NEW YORK.- The "Guernica" work by Pablo Picasso at the entrance of the
Security Council of the United Nations has been covered with a curtain. The
reason for covering this work is that this is the place where diplomats
make statements to the press and have this work as the background. The
Picasso work features the horrors of war. On January 27 a large blue
curtain was placed to cover the work.

Fred Eckhard, press secretary of the U.N. said: "It is an appropriate
background for the cameras." He was questioned as to why the work had been
covered.

A diplomat stated that it would not be an appropriate background if the
ambassador of the United States at the U.N. John Negroponte, or Powell,
talk about war surrounded with women, children and animals shouting with
horror and showing the suffering of the bombings.

This work is a reproduction of the Guernica that was donated by Nelson A.
Rockefeller to the U.N. in 1985.
/* End of text from 1x5:spur.posse */

This link to the Environmental Working Group is EXTREMELY important. I highly encourage you to take a few minutes and look at it.

The information is absolutely necessary.

An excerpt from the site:

"The blood and urine from the nine volunteers were tested for 210 chemicals that can be divided into seven basic groups. Of the chemical groups tested, the most prevalent were those contained in 24 classes of semivolatile and volatile chemicals, with 78 detected. These classes include well-known industrial solvents and gasoline ingredients, such as xylene and ethyl benzene, that are used in a variety of common products like paints, glues, and fire retardants. The laboratory found 48 PCBs in the nine people tested. PCBs were banned in the United States in 1976 but are used in other countries and persist in the environment for decades. Their most common use was as an insulating fluid in electrical capacitors and transformers, vacuum pumps, and gas-transmission turbines. Lead was found in all 9 participants, and mercury was found in 8.

Health professionals are not trained to link health problems to an individual’s chemical exposure, but it is increasingly evident that background exposures to industrial chemicals and pesticides are contributing to a portion of the steady increase in some health problems in the population. A number of significant health effects potentially linked to chemical exposures are increasingly prevalent:

Cancer. Between 1992 and 1999, cancer incidence increased for many forms of the disease, including breast, thyroid, kidney, liver, abdominal cavity connective tissue, skin and some forms of leukemia. The incidence of childhood cancer increased by 26 percent between 1975 and 1999, with the sharpest rise estimated for brain and other nervous system cancers (50 percent increase) and acute lymphocytic leukemia (62 percent increase). The incidence of testicular cancer also rose between 1973 and 1999 (NCI 2002). The probability that a US resident will develop cancer at some point in his or her lifetime is 1 in 2 for men and 1 in 3 for women (ACS 2001). Just 5 to 10 percent of all cancers are linked to inherited, genetic factors (ACS 2001). For the remainder, a broad array of environmental factors plays a pivotal role.

We found 76 carcinogens in nine people. On average, each study participant contained 53 chemical carcinogens.
Major nervous system disorders. Several recent studies have determined that the reported incidence of autism is increasing, and is now almost 10 times higher than in the mid-1980’s (Byrd 2002, Chakrabarti and Fombonne 2001, Yang, et al. 2000). The number of children being diagnosed and treated for attention deficit disorder (ADD) and attention deficit hyperactivity disorder (ADHD) has also increased dramatically in the past decade (Robison, et al. 1999, Robison, et al. 2002, Zito, et al. 2000). The causes are largely unexplained, but environmental factors, including chemical exposures, are considered a potential cause or contributor. Environmental factors have also been increasingly linked with Parkinson’s disease (Checkoway and Nelson 1999, Engel, et al. 2001).

We found 94 chemicals toxic to the nervous system in nine people. On average, each study participant contained 62 nervous system toxicants.
Defects of the reproductive system. Studies show that sperm counts in certain parts of the world are decreasing (Swan, et al. 2000, Toppari, et al. 1996). Scientists have measured significant regional differences in sperm count that cannot be explained by differences in genetic factors (Swan, et al. in press). Girls may be reaching puberty earlier, based on comparing current appearance of breast development and pubic hair growth with historical data (Herman-Giddens, et al. 1997). Incidence of hypospadias, a birth defect of the penis, doubled in the United States between 1970 and 1993, and is estimated to affect one of every 125 male babies born (Paulozzi, et al. 1997). The incidence of undescended testicles (cryptorchidism) and testicular cancer also appear to be rising in certain parts of the world (Bergstrom, et al. 1996, McKiernan, et al. 1999, Toppari, et al. 1996). Testicular cancer is now the most common cancer in men age 15 to 35 [NCI 2000]. Several studies have suggested links between developmental exposure to environmental contaminants and cryptorchidism or testicular cancer (Hardell, et al. in press, Hosie, et al. 2000, Toppari, et al. 1996, Weidner, et al. 1998).

We found 77 chemicals linked to reproductive damage in nine people. On average the nine subjects contained 55 reproductive toxicants.


Toxic effects do not require high doses

Hundreds of studies in the peer-reviewed literature show that adverse health effects from low dose exposures are occurring in the population, caused by unavoidable contamination with PCBs, DDT, dioxin, mercury, lead, toxic air pollutants, and other chemicals. The health effects scientists have linked to chemical exposures in the general population include premature death, asthma, cancer, chronic bronchitis, permanent decrements in IQ and declines in other measures of brain function, premature birth, respiratory tract infection, heart disease, and permanent decrements in lung capacity (EPA 1996, EPA 2000, Gauderman, et al. 2002, Jacobson and Jacobson 2002, Jacobson, et al. 2002, Kopp, et al. 2000, Longnecker, et al. 2001, NAS 2000, NTP 2002, Pope, et al. 2002, Salonen, et al. 1995, Sydbom, et al. 2001)."

Weather is here; wish you were beautiful.

In Memoriam

Rick D. Husband
William C. McCool
Michael P. Anderson
David M. Brown
Kalpana Chawla
Lauren Clark
IIan Ramon