Wednesday, March 28th, 2007.
My doctor had advised me that I was showing signs of exhaustion. I had been feeling blah of late so I called Stan and we spent the day fishing off of his pier. I had gotten up early, picked up Anna in Humble and arrived at the lake around 8:30am. It was a great, relaxing day of fishing, fellowship, lunch at Floridas then home late in the afternoon. Just what the Doctor ordered. I did some bookwork, then turned on the telly to catch the CNN news at 10pm.
I was greeted by a sight that brought vomit up into my throat. There was Karl Rove, rapping,
jamming and dancing before a roaring crowd at the "Radio and Television Correspondents Dinner". Karl Rove, the same parasite that bugged his own office in Texas, then tried to blame it on the Democrat who was running against Dubya for Governor. The Sheriff was not fooled or amused. The same despicable, psychopathologic brain that lied, connived, cheated and defamed all opposition to get George elected President. This, the torture maven who gives honest people a visceral gut reaction on sight. The same little worm that sat and giggled with W at the death row inmates who were asking for review before execution. But then, they had bigger fish to kill.
Yes, here he was, all over my television screen being applauded by the same sycophantic press corps. that never questioned one of the fabric of lies that led us into an unjustified war against a people who had no defence, and had done nothing to us. This same press group that got a big kick out of George last year when he said, "no WMDs here, no WMDs over there" as our sons were killing and being killed far from home and lonely. Dying in desert sand for the profit of Bush's oil buddies and Halliburton. They walked hand in hand and supported every fabrication
that Americans did not think any President would foist on a trusting nation. Will we ever trust again? This is the level we have permitted the authors of PNAC to carry us in their quest for world control. I hope we are now awakening to the arrogant, incompetent depravity that has transformed our very opinion of ourselves. Perhaps we can some-how extract this poison of thought that reaches into every facet that is America and American. Perhaps the "Radio and Television Correspondents Association" can rationalize their part in this rape of goodness enough to get a good nights sleep. There are thousands of families of loved ones who won't have that luxury for a long, long time. I'm glad I was rested.
Robin
Robin
Friday, March 30, 2007
Saturday, March 10, 2007
Deaf and Dumb
This has been a beautiful day in Houston. I stopped for a Quick lunch at a local restaurant I have visited often. My usual lunch of soup and a hamburger was as good as always. This was a usual action for me, I had no idea that it may be a trigger for reflective thought. But it did. Most of our daily actions are just habit, without alternative consideration. Occasionally this is not the case. A simple lunch? Yes, for me, but then, the mental reaction.
The landscape of the mind is a strange and wonderful world indeed. It can lead us to the solution for getting gum off of the sidewalk, (ice and a sharp spatula,) too determining the physics for putting a man on the moon and bringing him home. It can also conjure up all sorts of evil.
Today, my mind took me back to one of the many concentration camps in Europe. I thought of a starving Jew who knew he had reached the end of his life. My (taken for granted) small lunch
contained more nutrition than his emaciated body had taken in in months. The soup and sandwich may have maintained him for a few more weeks. How could this have happened in a civilized world.
What had happened to put this man and a whole race of people in this horrible situation. Had they committed a crime? no. Were they involved in a plot to attack and overthrow the Government? no, not that either. Their only crime was that they had accumulated possessions that their leader envied and wanted. They were Jews and owned things of value. After all, this was Germany, and Germany was a christian nation, (Martin Luther said so). These people were going to destroy the idea of a "one world, master race.
The trains ran day and night to keep the ovens fueled. Men, women and children, riding too their death, while starving, and living in their own waste. Why would my mind take me back to this time? Not a pleasant thought on a nice March day in Houston. I know why, it's because I have never been able determine how it could happen, how?
It was so easy because people like to have something, or someone, to hate. The propaganda machine of the press and radio spewed out the foul message from morning to night. The people cheered when their leader would speak for hours giving justification for his nations actions.
As the prisoners were being told to be sure to tie their shoestrings together and remember the number of the hook their clothes were hung on, preparations were being made to eliminate a race of people. The very race of which their God was proclaimed to be a member.
As their gold teeth were pulled, their hair cut for winter clothing padding for the troops, (we must support the troops) and the ovens called for more, where were the critics? I guess no one knew. No one wanted to know.
Very cleverly crafted lies doomed a whole people to the anguish of humiliation and an early death. Murdered by the insanity of the notion of superiority. Did we not hear the screams? Our neighbors, gone in a flash, I wonder how we can ever be forgiven. Yes, I know, we were not there. Yes we were. We are all products of the same human race and are responsible. As Hemingway said "Ask not for whom the bell tolls, The bell tolls for thee.". If only the laws would have been enforced, but, they were canceled. The people approved.
The Catholic church knew and approved, better than communism, so they said nothing. The Swiss knew, but millions in never to be claimed Jewish wealth was in their banks, besides, they were neutral. Italy knew, and joined in the greedy war for power.
The landscape of the mind is a strange and wonderful world indeed. It can lead us to the solution for getting gum off of the sidewalk, (ice and a sharp spatula,) too determining the physics for putting a man on the moon and bringing him home. It can also conjure up all sorts of evil.
Today, my mind took me back to one of the many concentration camps in Europe. I thought of a starving Jew who knew he had reached the end of his life. My (taken for granted) small lunch
contained more nutrition than his emaciated body had taken in in months. The soup and sandwich may have maintained him for a few more weeks. How could this have happened in a civilized world.
What had happened to put this man and a whole race of people in this horrible situation. Had they committed a crime? no. Were they involved in a plot to attack and overthrow the Government? no, not that either. Their only crime was that they had accumulated possessions that their leader envied and wanted. They were Jews and owned things of value. After all, this was Germany, and Germany was a christian nation, (Martin Luther said so). These people were going to destroy the idea of a "one world, master race.
The trains ran day and night to keep the ovens fueled. Men, women and children, riding too their death, while starving, and living in their own waste. Why would my mind take me back to this time? Not a pleasant thought on a nice March day in Houston. I know why, it's because I have never been able determine how it could happen, how?
It was so easy because people like to have something, or someone, to hate. The propaganda machine of the press and radio spewed out the foul message from morning to night. The people cheered when their leader would speak for hours giving justification for his nations actions.
As the prisoners were being told to be sure to tie their shoestrings together and remember the number of the hook their clothes were hung on, preparations were being made to eliminate a race of people. The very race of which their God was proclaimed to be a member.
As their gold teeth were pulled, their hair cut for winter clothing padding for the troops, (we must support the troops) and the ovens called for more, where were the critics? I guess no one knew. No one wanted to know.
Very cleverly crafted lies doomed a whole people to the anguish of humiliation and an early death. Murdered by the insanity of the notion of superiority. Did we not hear the screams? Our neighbors, gone in a flash, I wonder how we can ever be forgiven. Yes, I know, we were not there. Yes we were. We are all products of the same human race and are responsible. As Hemingway said "Ask not for whom the bell tolls, The bell tolls for thee.". If only the laws would have been enforced, but, they were canceled. The people approved.
The Catholic church knew and approved, better than communism, so they said nothing. The Swiss knew, but millions in never to be claimed Jewish wealth was in their banks, besides, they were neutral. Italy knew, and joined in the greedy war for power.
I, and my generation, will soon be gone and no one will remember. Perhaps it's best, because we know,---It can never happen again, at least, not here.
Thursday, March 8, 2007
Charlie Kelly,s new car.
From the first time I met him, I liked Charlie Kelly. But then, everyone liked Charlie. He was one of those rare people that was never critical of anyone. He always seemed to be on your side of any issue that came up in the small talk that men seem to need to survive. Anytime his name was mentioned someone was sure to say how much they liked Charlie Kelly.
A second generation Irishman, he had retained that wry grin and twinkle in the eye common to the Irish. He had worked at the same job his whole life. He did his job in the Traffic Division for the city of Houston Texas for thirty years. Upon retirement, the gave him an engraved watch on a fob, and a retirement income that when paired with his FICA provided nicely for him and his wife Emily.
His main source of enjoyment after he retired was fishing up on Lake Livingston where they had a cottage, and those wonderful Houston Astros. Charlie hardly ever missed a home game in the Astrodome, or an away game on television.
When Charlie reached seventy years old, his family decided to get together and have a surprise birthday celebration at Charlies house. His children told Emily that they would pay to have the party catered, and if the weather was nice, the back patio would be perfect.
So, that's how it all began. Their three daughters came in from out of state and brought with them, three husbands and seven grand children. Their only son had never married but brought his sixth fiancee, and her two children from a previous marriage. This brought the total party to nineteen on the patio to celebrate Charlies birthday on the 13th of October, 2002.
After a great dinner, small talk, nice gifts and some jokes, one of the daughters was a little too much in the wine and proposed a toast. She said something to the effect that Charlie was by far the youngest man at the table. This set off a cascade of similar toasts, all proclaiming how young Charlie acted, and how he was more alert than most of his children. Charlie seemed to sit a little taller in his chair as these accolades continued into the late evening.
During the weeks that followed, Emily noticed a change in Charlie, a metamorphosis was taking place before his wife's eyes. He began humming songs that he would hear on the car radio. New songs that the younger generation liked. What happened to the songs of the sixties that they used to sing together?. He talked about them taking dancing lessons, and maybe joining a bowling league. Strange stuff for Charlie. It seemed that he had put more belief in those toasts than had Emily.
They had been talking about getting a new car for some time. But then, it usually took a lot of conversation before a big step like that actually happened. Charlie was a Ford man. He had never owned anything but Fords. He would proclaim to anyone who would listen, the benefits of owning a Ford product. (Ford cars were like Charlie. An old firm, reliable and dependable.
So you can imagine his wife's surprise when one day, as she was peering through the drapes. a bright red Fiat convertible, with the top down came into their driveway with a smiling Charlie Kelly behind the wheel. She gasped, as she made her way to the couch. She had that strange feeling she had had when the Doctor told her that the Rabbit had died.
She had moved so quickly to the sofa that when Charlie came through the door, she looked up and said, "Hello honey, I'll bet your hungry, I made some pound cake." This statement surprised even her. "No no" Charlie said, "you know that new car we have been talking about for so long, well, I bought it.". "So you bought us a new Ford huh ?' Emily replied. " Not this time Babe, I thought it was time for a new Kelly look. Come on lets take her out for a little spin, I think you will be surprised."
Surprise was not the emotion that Emily was feeling. Shock was more in line with her emotional state. Besides, Charlie had never talked that way before. "O.K. honey let me get my purse and I will meet you outside in a minute."
Emily went upstairs, got her purse off of the dresser, and sat down on the edge of the bed to collect he thoughts. Charlie was a good man and a good husband. If he wanted to drive around town in a red convertible, so be it. She was not going to be the one to hurt his feelings or deflate his ego after all these wonderful years of marriage. After all, he had never denied her anything.
"My lands Charlie, it's beautiful, and it matches the Azalea plants at the corner of the porch". "Do you like it, really Emily?" Charlie asked. "If you like it, I like it," Emily replied. It was a sentence they had said many time to each other over the years.
They drove around the neighborhood for about an hour. It was obvious that Charlie was proud to be showing off his new possession. I bought this new type of car so no one would think we were going to become senile in our old age ". Charlie exclaimed.
Senile was a word that had popped into Emilys mind that afternoon, but not in the same context as Charlie's.
During the next few months, Charlie bought himself an English drivers cap and a matching plaid scarf to go with the gentleman's sport coat with the leather elbows. He said he got a real bargain on it during a Red Tag Sale at Foleys Department store. Emily found the ticket later for $325 in his pants pocket that he had put in the laundry. She never mentioned it.
Charlie was visualizing himself as a younger man with youthful tastes. He liked to put on his "driving outfit" as Emily called it too herself, and drive through the University of Houston campus, he would wave to the students and they seemed to enjoy waving back. He would then drive over to Rice University and repeat his actions. "Probably one of the professors " one student said, "wouldn't be surprised, another replied".
Most people just wondered who the elderly, over weight gentleman with the big smile and the 1920s attire was, and what he was doing in that red convertible driving through campus, but, strange things happen on campus, this was just a little weirder than usual.
One day, as Charlie was driving down Scott St. near the Rice campus, he noticed smoke coming from an upstairs window of a house he had passed many times. He quickly pulled over, threw his cap and scarf onto the passenger seat and rushed to the house. The front door was slightly ajar and he pushed open. It was hot and thick with smoke inside, he tripped over a woman who had collapsed while trying to get her baby out of the building. Charlie quickly carried the baby to the front yard and returned to the woman. As he was pulling her to safety, he heard a child crying upstairs. Again he went into the smoke filled house and found the stairwell. He located the child on the landing and removed him from the danger. Charlie went back inside and felt his way up the stairs into the bedroom area. Charlie did not know that he had already saved the entire family. He also did not know that the fire in the kitchen had burned through the ceiling joists and that the floor could no longer support his weight.
The firemen found Charlies body in the still smoldering debris that had been the kitchen. All of the media called Charlie a hero,-- he was. They ran a recent photo of him in his red car smiling from ear to ear. Charlie would have liked that.
Emily doesn't drive. She likes to sit on the porch with her memories. The red Fiat sits in the driveway, His cap and scarf are on the passenger seat where Charlie had thrown them before he became a local hero. People like to drop by and sit with Emily and talk about Charlie the hero, but Emily knew that Charlie had always been a hero. Her hero.
A second generation Irishman, he had retained that wry grin and twinkle in the eye common to the Irish. He had worked at the same job his whole life. He did his job in the Traffic Division for the city of Houston Texas for thirty years. Upon retirement, the gave him an engraved watch on a fob, and a retirement income that when paired with his FICA provided nicely for him and his wife Emily.
His main source of enjoyment after he retired was fishing up on Lake Livingston where they had a cottage, and those wonderful Houston Astros. Charlie hardly ever missed a home game in the Astrodome, or an away game on television.
When Charlie reached seventy years old, his family decided to get together and have a surprise birthday celebration at Charlies house. His children told Emily that they would pay to have the party catered, and if the weather was nice, the back patio would be perfect.
So, that's how it all began. Their three daughters came in from out of state and brought with them, three husbands and seven grand children. Their only son had never married but brought his sixth fiancee, and her two children from a previous marriage. This brought the total party to nineteen on the patio to celebrate Charlies birthday on the 13th of October, 2002.
After a great dinner, small talk, nice gifts and some jokes, one of the daughters was a little too much in the wine and proposed a toast. She said something to the effect that Charlie was by far the youngest man at the table. This set off a cascade of similar toasts, all proclaiming how young Charlie acted, and how he was more alert than most of his children. Charlie seemed to sit a little taller in his chair as these accolades continued into the late evening.
During the weeks that followed, Emily noticed a change in Charlie, a metamorphosis was taking place before his wife's eyes. He began humming songs that he would hear on the car radio. New songs that the younger generation liked. What happened to the songs of the sixties that they used to sing together?. He talked about them taking dancing lessons, and maybe joining a bowling league. Strange stuff for Charlie. It seemed that he had put more belief in those toasts than had Emily.
They had been talking about getting a new car for some time. But then, it usually took a lot of conversation before a big step like that actually happened. Charlie was a Ford man. He had never owned anything but Fords. He would proclaim to anyone who would listen, the benefits of owning a Ford product. (Ford cars were like Charlie. An old firm, reliable and dependable.
So you can imagine his wife's surprise when one day, as she was peering through the drapes. a bright red Fiat convertible, with the top down came into their driveway with a smiling Charlie Kelly behind the wheel. She gasped, as she made her way to the couch. She had that strange feeling she had had when the Doctor told her that the Rabbit had died.
She had moved so quickly to the sofa that when Charlie came through the door, she looked up and said, "Hello honey, I'll bet your hungry, I made some pound cake." This statement surprised even her. "No no" Charlie said, "you know that new car we have been talking about for so long, well, I bought it.". "So you bought us a new Ford huh ?' Emily replied. " Not this time Babe, I thought it was time for a new Kelly look. Come on lets take her out for a little spin, I think you will be surprised."
Surprise was not the emotion that Emily was feeling. Shock was more in line with her emotional state. Besides, Charlie had never talked that way before. "O.K. honey let me get my purse and I will meet you outside in a minute."
Emily went upstairs, got her purse off of the dresser, and sat down on the edge of the bed to collect he thoughts. Charlie was a good man and a good husband. If he wanted to drive around town in a red convertible, so be it. She was not going to be the one to hurt his feelings or deflate his ego after all these wonderful years of marriage. After all, he had never denied her anything.
"My lands Charlie, it's beautiful, and it matches the Azalea plants at the corner of the porch". "Do you like it, really Emily?" Charlie asked. "If you like it, I like it," Emily replied. It was a sentence they had said many time to each other over the years.
They drove around the neighborhood for about an hour. It was obvious that Charlie was proud to be showing off his new possession. I bought this new type of car so no one would think we were going to become senile in our old age ". Charlie exclaimed.
Senile was a word that had popped into Emilys mind that afternoon, but not in the same context as Charlie's.
During the next few months, Charlie bought himself an English drivers cap and a matching plaid scarf to go with the gentleman's sport coat with the leather elbows. He said he got a real bargain on it during a Red Tag Sale at Foleys Department store. Emily found the ticket later for $325 in his pants pocket that he had put in the laundry. She never mentioned it.
Charlie was visualizing himself as a younger man with youthful tastes. He liked to put on his "driving outfit" as Emily called it too herself, and drive through the University of Houston campus, he would wave to the students and they seemed to enjoy waving back. He would then drive over to Rice University and repeat his actions. "Probably one of the professors " one student said, "wouldn't be surprised, another replied".
Most people just wondered who the elderly, over weight gentleman with the big smile and the 1920s attire was, and what he was doing in that red convertible driving through campus, but, strange things happen on campus, this was just a little weirder than usual.
One day, as Charlie was driving down Scott St. near the Rice campus, he noticed smoke coming from an upstairs window of a house he had passed many times. He quickly pulled over, threw his cap and scarf onto the passenger seat and rushed to the house. The front door was slightly ajar and he pushed open. It was hot and thick with smoke inside, he tripped over a woman who had collapsed while trying to get her baby out of the building. Charlie quickly carried the baby to the front yard and returned to the woman. As he was pulling her to safety, he heard a child crying upstairs. Again he went into the smoke filled house and found the stairwell. He located the child on the landing and removed him from the danger. Charlie went back inside and felt his way up the stairs into the bedroom area. Charlie did not know that he had already saved the entire family. He also did not know that the fire in the kitchen had burned through the ceiling joists and that the floor could no longer support his weight.
The firemen found Charlies body in the still smoldering debris that had been the kitchen. All of the media called Charlie a hero,-- he was. They ran a recent photo of him in his red car smiling from ear to ear. Charlie would have liked that.
Emily doesn't drive. She likes to sit on the porch with her memories. The red Fiat sits in the driveway, His cap and scarf are on the passenger seat where Charlie had thrown them before he became a local hero. People like to drop by and sit with Emily and talk about Charlie the hero, but Emily knew that Charlie had always been a hero. Her hero.
Friday, March 2, 2007
Unknown Places
In each of us there is a wondrous secret place. Only we posses the ability to let others into that world or reveal some of the mysteries that we keep hidden there. Sometimes we may open the door a bit, but usually we are too insecure about others ability to keep our little secret thoughts that the door remains shut. It is really very special when we love and trust another person enough to share some of these thoughts we have kept to ourselves, sometimes since childhood. It can be like releasing pent up pressures, but,even then we do not tell all.
Of coarse I am speaking of the individual human mind. The mind is not the brain, but it is a creation of the brain. It has no material mass, just electrical impulses that we cannot find on any machine invented so far. Its sort of like the mysteries of dreams and the travels our mind can create while we sleep.
When we die, this very important part of our makeup probably dies with us. Are you sure?. What a shame if all of the untold stories that Samuel Clemens had planned to write just went down that drain called death. The Ideas of Newton, Kant, Plato, Socrates and other great thinkers gone forever. We, as humans do not like to accept the finality of others like ourselves, so we create parallel universes where these things we call soul, or spirit go and we will all be together again. We call these places Heaven, or the other one for people who don't obey the rules, Hell. Do those places really exist?. Again I ask myself, are you sure?.
Thoughts like this are usually best kept in our secret place, we don't want to make anyone else think about uncomfortable things like that, now do we?.
So I will put that back inside, hidden from the world, along with other things I laugh, or cry about when I need a good laugh or enjoy a pity party if I like. No one will ever know. Will they?.
Of coarse I am speaking of the individual human mind. The mind is not the brain, but it is a creation of the brain. It has no material mass, just electrical impulses that we cannot find on any machine invented so far. Its sort of like the mysteries of dreams and the travels our mind can create while we sleep.
When we die, this very important part of our makeup probably dies with us. Are you sure?. What a shame if all of the untold stories that Samuel Clemens had planned to write just went down that drain called death. The Ideas of Newton, Kant, Plato, Socrates and other great thinkers gone forever. We, as humans do not like to accept the finality of others like ourselves, so we create parallel universes where these things we call soul, or spirit go and we will all be together again. We call these places Heaven, or the other one for people who don't obey the rules, Hell. Do those places really exist?. Again I ask myself, are you sure?.
Thoughts like this are usually best kept in our secret place, we don't want to make anyone else think about uncomfortable things like that, now do we?.
So I will put that back inside, hidden from the world, along with other things I laugh, or cry about when I need a good laugh or enjoy a pity party if I like. No one will ever know. Will they?.
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