New Years Revolutions

Well it is New Year’s Eve again and I suppose I should chirp up with a few words about the day and our upcoming year. I don’t actually see New Years as a cause to celebrate, I do enjoy a good party, but the day in itself is nothing special to those of the warrior clan.

What does it celebrate? New beginnings, hell I find a new beginning every day. When I close my eyes at night the day is done, when the light creeps in my window each morning I have a fresh new start. We don’t need to wait 364 days to dispose of crappy days and bad memories. 

Is it for resolutions to make changes? Why, wait today is the day, if you really need a change just go out and make it happen. We only get one life so learn how to make changes on the fly or you will never, ever, be on target. 

Do you harken back to the pagan days of winter solstices and praying for the sun to return? Here is an idea, be your own light, even better be a light for others. Energy (the laws of thermodynamics say) is neither lost nor gained, it merely changes state, and most energy is released in the form of heat and light. Therefore if you expend some energy doing something good for someone else, you will be releasing your own energy as light for all to see. Why not start today and make every day as bright as the summer solstice?

Of course I know that not everyone is just able to break out of there ruts and fly, so for you folks I have a few suggestions for change in no particular order. 

·         Read Getting Right with Tao by Ron Hogan

·         Practice winking in the mirror this morning, then wink lasciviously at one attractive stranger today.

·         Drink a beer with a friend at least once a week

·         Prepare a list of smart ass remarks for every occasion

·         Go to a religious service of a different denomination (no those aren’t foot rests in the Catholic churches)

·         Don’t sweat the petty

·         Always pet the sweaty

·         Stop reading this and follow your heart

Good luck kiddies it’s a jungle out there!

Atrofey

Atrofey

31 December 2011: Designer Ralph Laurence announced the release of his new fragrance line today. The first fragrance line ever designed for post-menopausal women, Atrofey promises to revolutionize the fragrance industry. Evoking a complex, but subtle blend of lavender and moth balls with just a hint of Ben-Gay Atrofey promises to be the hot new line for 2012. Marketed under the slogan Atrofey, because you’re not using it any way. Atrofey will be available at all major department stores on Tuesday January 3^rd.

my art rant

  Emily told me she wanted a trip to the Salvador Dali museum for her Christmas present, and I just about burst from pride. Who know that all those years of throwing random cultural events at her would take hold? Not me, but you better believe I am taking credit for it. The new museum is somehow not as much fun as the old building though, too cramped, the architecture is kind of pretentious and it clashes with the beautiful Tampa bay vista, but still, the art remains as beautiful and stirring as ever. Just one thing reared it's ugly head to scuff my normally calm demeanor, but it was a big thing, so buckle in kiddies.

  The Salvador Dali  museum offers free of charge these little MP3 headset deals, so you can take a self guided tour. I thought this might be a great idea for the uninitiated until I saw them ( the slack jawed yokels I mean). Artwork's greatest value is in how it touches you. Being touched depends on you, seeing, interpreting, and feeling. It is nice of course to have a commentator to offer opinions or even the artist's own interpretation, but for God's sake learn to enjoy the work for yourself first.

  They stirred around like a giant herd of cattle, empty eyes boring straight into the picture, as they looked for whatever the voice on the tape told them to see. Oh yes they stepped in front of you or on you without looking, but that was not their greatest offense. Those bored vacant eyes, that was their shame. That dirty little secret of modern education, I NEVER LEARNED TO THINK FOR MYSELF!
 
  What ails you people, are you really so ignorant, so callous to beauty and art and ideas that you treat a trip to the museum like a  game of Halo? I wanted to scream and yell and rip the headsets off people and fling them down the massive helical staircase.I wanted to raise the alarm, I wanted to call the humanities professors of the world to begin administering spankings.

  Listen to me my friends, I am begging you please, sometime this month, go to a fine arts museum and just enjoy the art, don't follow the docent, don't read the plaques, just enjoy and then report back to me and let me know if it made a difference in that day of your life.

  If you live here in the Tampa area may I humbly suggest; the Ringling Museum in Sarasota (home to one of the nations largest collections of baroque art), the St Pete museum of fine art (they are having an Egyptian exhibit until mid April) or the Salvador Dali museum. No matter where you live I know you will find something worth seeing.

Still (a poem about smoking)

Still 

after all this time

the days like drips of water

forming the rushing river of years

still I see you and I want you,

My heart cries out when I see you with him

adjusting his fedora, turning up his collar

he takes you in his hand sets you aflame 

draws you into his body.

With every fiber of my being I want you

I want you

still

Pardon the stupid question

  Last night I happened to see a segment on the ESPN program, Pardon the interruption and I thought I had lost control of my senses. There above the bar was a caption that said Best halftime show ever? and a clip of a dog riding a monkey. I found myself flabbergasted. I was truly offended by that question mark. Who would ever turn such a statement into a question?

  Of course a dog riding a monkey is the greatest halftime show ever! Janet Jackson could shimmy butt naked across Reliant Field singing Land of a thousand dances and still not be as entertaining as a monkey riding a dog.

  Perhaps it’s just me.  I suppose that my lifetime love of classical music and great art has created in me a more keen sense of beauty, then will ever be possessed by some junior producer at ESPN, Perhaps I have become a culture snob,some sort of an elitist, but I say to you, my friends, loved ones, fellow travelers and insomniacs,

monkey riding a dog; GREATEST HALFTIME SHOW EVER!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

ideas and actions

Ideas can be scary. Karl Marx had an idea, and millions suffer still as a result of giving charlatans an excuse to take control of power. Fortunately most people rarely bother stretch their minds outside the comfort zone of prime time television. Most people are afraid to take any actions that will actually expose themselves to danger.
This is why the occupy Wall Street protesters have failed. They did manage to get a lot of people to come together and stand around grumbling. There were even some acts of civil disobedience, but on the whole none of those people chose to risk anything of value and not one idea came forth from their milling about that could actually change the American situation.
I have an idea, but it does scare me, as a result I haven’t done the research to make it possible, but preliminary studies show it is entirely doable. The long term consequences however are so sweeping as to be unimaginable to my untrained mind.
Much of control is about the psychology of the group, and I think there is a group ready to exploit, which could shake the world to its foundations. Bank of America common stock is selling fairly low, after a downturn this summer caused by the markets belief that BOA was overvaluing itself. Now if all of those people whining and moaning in their occupy movement were to pool their money and purchase stock in BOA and move as a bloc under the administration of one capable leader, the game would be on. Enough voting and preferred stock would allow occupy to begin to sway other large holders who may be a little nervous to begin with. If the power of those votes were used to throw out the board and replace them with their own selections.
This idea frightens me because of the huge overall implications. If one bank fell then the rest would follow in short order and chaos would ensue. The finger of blame for that would surely point back to the government banking bailout. Had the government let some of these large corporations fail a new establishment would have risen, green and fresh and vibrant. Instead we are resting on the back of a rotten infrastructure which sits vulnerable to the masses waiting for one idea like mine to ferment and explode under pressure.

Christmas for the troops

Authors note: names in this story have been changed to protect people I love from the consequences of words spoken during a bitterly stressful time that few people would understand

"Those little bitches!" Generally swearing after mail call in Fallujaha is uncalled for, let's face it we lived for a new picture from our kid or a word of love, so we all gathered around Grif to see what was wrong.

Things were hot this trip, it was the winter prior to the surge in Iraq and we were on the staff of the Seabee Regiment tasked with preparing facilities for the upcoming operations. The base itself was mortared or rocketed daily, and we had lost a few troops everyone was on edge.

Grif had received a case of cookies from a Girl-scout troop in his hometown. "Everyone of those damn girls wrote me a letter, now I am going to have to write 30 thank you notes back. Well I am not doing it anymore, I am tired of this shit!"

Now of course we couldn't let it stand at that, so we all took a handful of letters and zipped off a few lines for Grif to sign. There was no way we would disappoint a bunch of teenage girls who were doing a good thing. After all we wouldn't have been there (most of us already on our second voluntary tour) if we ad been the kind of creeps who ignored little girls with cookies.

I am thinking about that now because it is almost Christmas and I am seeing appeals all over the place to do this and that for the troops and I am not at all sure that is what the troops want. We were always grateful for the expressions of support from home, but by the end it was luxury items. The military gave us the basic necessities and that's all a warrior really wants. During my tours in the zone I bet I have given away dozens of pounds of candy to LNs and TCNs who wanted it more then me. Not to mention all the stuff that was left behind or thrown away because we travel light. The best present I ever received from America was when someone sent us a bunch of copies of Playboy for Christmas in 2006, now that was a useful tool!

So what I am saying if you are still bothering to read this is support your troops by giving to a cause in their honor. Drop something in the Toys for Tots bin or write Metropolitan Ministries a check in honor of the U.S. military, but do something to make a solider proud of you this Christmas.

is it as good for you as it was for me

The cat was speeding us into oblivion, downshifting into the corners, giving me that aint we having fun now look, as the tires staggered across the pavement, screaming in protest until the road straightens, then, catching traction, hurtling us towards our doom.

How I came to be in a runaway sports car driven by an adrenal addicted tabby is quite a tale. This however is not that story.

I staggered into the bar about ten thirty slumping onto a stool, wiping the memories of last night from my eyes. Mike had already done the prep work and opened the shutters and doors overlooking the beach. We don’t normally do much business this early, but, occasionally a thirsty tourist comes in looking for one of our signature dishes. As young warriors on liberty in the French Quarter we had learned the secret to tropical drinks is pineapple juice, umbrellas, and lots of grain alcohol.

In reality business hasn’t been good since Club Misogyny opened up down the beach. Recently Mike has been working on new recipes to try and bust back into the lead and today, he greets me by sliding a martini glass filled with a frozen purple drink down the bar, “drink this bro”. I sniff tentatively and Mike explains, “it’s blueberry schnapps and rum I call it a bluna colada.

“You know brother sometimes I think, it would be easier for me to have stayed with one of my wives, then it is for me to keep you as my best friend.”

a walk in the sunshine

Ms Jayne Goody knew exactly what to do about the strawberries. She stood at the garden gate fussily adjusting her hat in the midday sun and admiring the garden, product of so many hours of work. Then spurred by the promise of great return for a small amount of work she opened the gate and stepped through. Ms. Goody strode briskly through the garden ignoring the radishes, cucumbers, and tomatoes to stop at the first mound of delicious ripe red berries. Taking her pruning shears from her apron she gently grabbed the first plant at the base and cut it off even to the ground. She repeated this action 20 more times until the garden was a killing field of once proud fruit. Then she stood returning her pruners to her pocket and brushing the dirt from her knees.
“Lavina Adams should learn not to gossip, after all whose business is it if a woman of a certain age wishes to entertain a few gentlemen callers”, she mumbled to herself straightening her hat once more. Then with a certainty that time is fleeting she turned and hurried towards downtown so as not to miss the opening of Wednesday ladies meeting at the civic club.
Lavina Adams brushed a stray crumb off her pleated skirt as she reached for another cucumber sandwich, they could have been better, the cucumber was overripe and missing that crisp snap she enjoyed in her mouth. She grew much better in her own garden and indeed had won many blue ribbons at the county fair, but things were just too tight this year to waste food on this lot of prissy old biddies. Even now here came that awful Jayne Goody.
“That woman is the scandal of Greentown, lights on at her house at all hours, playing that jazz music so loud you can hear it the minute you set foot on her porch to set her straight about a few things.” She smiled; a thin tight line, showing no teeth, and removing the color from her already pale lips, a smile she reserved for harlots like Jayne.
The meeting dragged on interminably, prolonged by an extended argument over the theme for decorating the square, in honor of Independence Day. In the end Hester Marshal won out with her plan for an homage to John Paul Jones and Battle of Flamborough Head. Really it was going to take a lot of red carnations to recreate that many dead British, but there was no way that Hallsville could be allowed to outdo them this year.
Jayne Goody and Levina Adams headed for their respective homes wrapped in their private thoughts. Jayne was concerned with what might be needed to prepare for tonight’s gentlemen callers and Levina wondered if she had set the timer for the hydroponic pump in the basement correctly. After all times are hard and a woman has to make a living doesn’t she?