Ashes & Snow

Check out this beautiful Web site of photography from an exhibit in Santa Monica. It’s like joining your computer in a meditation on genuine humanity and the humanity of animals.

Received from my buddy at Drachenthrax.

Oh this is rich. And I was just telling myself this afternoon – as I have many times – that I should blog about poetry and writing, which I love, not the stupid war, which I hate. See how long that lasted again?

The lunatics in charge of our transcendently, infinitely stupid army have banned the use of privately bought armor by our troops. First, they won’t furnish our people with what they need, then they won’t let them get their own.

Hey kids, join the Army! And if you don’t get killed, and work your way up to be an officer, you too can be an assclown first class, with friggin oak leaf clusters.

Oh, this
makes
me
mad.

April is the cruelest month. No, that’s not it. Start again.
April is National Poetry Month.
Yay! We used to do readings in April, back in my day. That was nice. Here’s a poem.

Why is our century worse than any other?
Is it that in the stupor of fear and grief
It has plunged its fingers into the blackest ulcer
Yet cannot bring relief?

Westward the sun is dropping,
And the roofs of towns are shining in its light.
Already death is chalking doors with crosses
And calling the ravens and the ravens are in flight.

Anna Akhmatova | 1919

Christianity is not conservative, and America is not Christian. Christianity is about giving and sacrifice. It’s about loving everyone and judging no one. It’s about welcoming and feeding the hungry, clothing the naked, comforting the sick and dying.

If America were a Christian nation, every man with two shirts would send one to Africa. People wouldn’t go to prison for addiction.

If America were Christian, twelve million doors would be open tonight, twelve million tables set and lit, so that every one of the alleged illegal aliens among us would be welcome to supper. Isn’t that what Christ would do? Doesn’t he teach us to set the table and call in from the highways the disenfranchised and poor?

Can you picture Jesus down at the border, nailing up a fence? Does anyone out there think Jesus cares about your green card?

If America were Christian, we wouldn’t need to worry about terrorists coming in with explosives, because we wouldn’t have such enemies in the first place. If we were righteous and loving, we would have only brothers.

Sen. Gary Hart, being interviewed on the Colbert Report, just predicted “the way things are going,” we’ll be in Iraq for twenty years.  Really.  

Is somebody out there sending me psychic pastry?  I’m sitting here in my condo, all the windows and doors shut tight, because it’s a cold and rainy night and I’ve been sick.  I’m in the “penthouse;” nobody else has a kitchen on this floor.  So how is it possible that, a few minutes ago, I smelled baking pastry?  

This could be explained as a simple momentary psychosis, if I were hungry.  I’m not.  So I guess I’d better get some sleep.  

[Just in case I ever run for high public office, I’m kidding.]  

Well, it’s a rainy afternoon here in my hometown, so it seems like a good time for a brief note — meaning my opinion — on the state of things on the front.

The civil war in Iraq grows exponentially more chaotic and psychotic every day. To the extent that it was ever under the influence of the Bush administration, that illusion has dissipated. It’s a runaway train, with a monkey playing engineer. The dying is far from over, on every side.

OK, take a deep breath and enjoy some Grateful Dead lyrics.

Once upon a time there was an engineer.
Drove a locomotive both far and near.
Accompanied by a monkey that would sit on a stool
Watching everything the engineer would do
One day the engineer wanted a bite to eat,
He left the monkey sitting on the driver’s seat,
The monkey pulled the throttle, the locomotive jumped the gun
And did 80 miles an hour down the mainline run.

Big locomotive right on time, big locomotive coming down the line.
Big locomotive No. 99, left the engineer with a worried mind.

The engineer called up the dispatcher on the phone,
To tell him all about his locomotive was gone.
Dispatcher got on the wire, switch operator to the right,
Cause the monkey’s got the main line sewed up tight.
The switch operator got the message on time,
Said there’s a Northbound livin’ on the same main line,
Open up the switch I’m gonna let him through the hole,
Cause the monkey’s got the locomotive under control.

Big locomotive right on time, big locomotive coming down the line.
Big locomotive No. 99, left the engineer with a worried mind.

I heard Bob Weir introduce that song – which is a kick in the pants live – as a “tragedy narrowly averted.” I don’t think we can expect such an outcome Over There. Our monkey’s lost his mandate, along with his marbles. And besides moving Rice up to Powell’s job, can you think of one significant White House shakeup? Well, they did get a new chef.

So we’ve got tragedy unavoidable in Iraq, and Iran has switched into serious Bond James Bond crisis mode, and have you noticed how wobbly Tony Blair looks on the telly lately? Stick a fork in ‘im, he’s done.

How’s your disposable income to debt ratio, neighbor? Would you vote for W again?

For those who watched The West Wing tonight and thought, “Aha!  That’s what a bigtime blogger looks like,” I have bad news.  Atrios says that was an actor playing him.  

Which reminds me.  A friend was showing me photos of her newborn niece, in the hospital.  Friend’s brother was wearing a t-shirt in the photos – in the hospital remember – that said, “I’m not a doctor, but I’ll take a look.”

Funny, huh?  

I’m sorry to read this morning of the death of Buck Owens. He was only 76, which is not very old these days.

I’ve never cared for country music. Except bluegrass, which I really like. But some of my family members like it, and we watched Hee Haw when I was a kid.

Owens was well liked in Bakersfield; so much so, they named a major street after him, years ago. I guess he did a lot for the town. Some of my relatives used to live there, and my aunt played tennis with him. I seem to remember her saying he was a nice, humble guy.

“I’d like to be remembered as a guy that came along and did his music, did his best and showed up on time, clean and ready to do the job, wrote a few songs and had a hell of a time.”

If you haven’t read the vice president’s hotel requirements, here they are.

Some of them are mildly amusing, such as Big Dick’s requirement that all TVs in his suite be pre-tuned to Fox News; AKA, The Dept of Truth. The man can’t use a remote? But my favorite is the ice rule:

Container for Ice (and the location of where ice maker is located)

Now, that’s some fine Washington DC writing right there, folks. It reminds me of a line in “Oh Brother Where Art Thou:”

It also reminds me of the Bush style of rhetoric: Just keep being redundant. If you can’t dazzle ’em with brilliance, baffle ’em with bullshit.

For the record, Mr. Veep, we ain’t. Your constituents is Halliburton. And it should be … and the location of the ice maker. English ain’t easy.

From time to time, when the wind’s just right and the air is especially cool and damp, I can smell the ocean from here. That heavy salt smell you get when you walk out on a pier, you know? Normally, I have to walk out on the bluffs to smell it, but sometimes it just pads up and lays on my balcony like a drunken cat. Such a night is tonight. You can hear the foghorn and the creaking mooring lines, see the dark spatter of waves through the boards between your feet. And the neighbors can be heard crying Avast, bendejo! and Shiver mis timbers!

Fifteen men on a dead man’s chest
Yo ho ho and a bottle of rum
Drink and the devil had done for the rest
Yo ho ho and a bottle of rum.
The mate was fixed by the bosun’s pike
The bosun brained with a marlinspike
And cookey’s throat was marked belike
It had been gripped by fingers ten;
And there they lay, all good dead men
Like break o’day in a boozing ken
Yo ho ho and a bottle of … nyquil.

Well, blow me down.

It’s true. I’ve been fighting it all day. Been taking Airborne and trying to flush out the cells. A little zinc. I may have to knuckle under and go to bed early.