Georgia's Peach

TeaBaggers and Class Warfare Hahaha!

2011-09-20T02:21:00.003-04:00

This is my post from a Yahoo story on Obama's plan to raise money for job creation by taxing the rich (and the right wing then crying "Class Warfare!"), with reply from Phil T:

"I love the way these teabaggers twist the truth. The class warfare has been going on for quite some time now. It is a war of the rich (and banks, oil boys, wall street, big corporations) AGAINST everyone else. The rich run this country, change laws to suit themselves, make sure they pay almost nothing in taxes, and then when Obama finally has the guts to stand up and say, "Hey, maybe you guys should pay something similar in taxes to a middle class working person", they get their teabagging hacks to scream "Class warfare". What a bunch of soulless creeps, no ethics and no concern for anyone but their corporate sugar daddies. Man, if there is a hell, they are surely going to burn in it when their time comes.

1 Reply

PhilT

Yeah, it's good the rich can't buy their way out of dying!"

So far 6 thumbs up and only 2 thumbs down from the pay-for-hire teabagger hacks who troll the internet desperately searching for any signs of intelligence, aiming to quickly shoot it down.

Clearly the plan of the Rich Corporate Elite (and their teabagger hacks) is to turn the USA into an old-style third world economy. You really have to wonder what kind of nightmare childhood these creeps experienced to end up as such heartless, soulless sick psychopaths.

Neysa Malone Red Dress edit.m4v

2010-10-07T23:51:00.000-04:00

Psycho Roommate Questionnaire

2010-08-03T02:15:00.005-04:00

Over the years, I have had PLENTY of experiences with roommates, good and bad. Due to some recent unpleasant experiences, as well as a few painful old ones, I am now concluding that a VERY detailed questionnaire is probably in order when interviewing potential roommates, particularly to rule out psychos, exhibitionists, thieves and other criminals and scary people. Here is part one of my first draft:

1. Do you plan to walk around in your underwear or worse, nude, within the first 24 hours of moving in?
2. Do you have a tendency to stare fixedly at boxes of tea whilst holding them in the air, for, say, 5 minutes or more, while mumbling to yourself?
3. Do you have a tendency to leave the bathroom door unlocked and then laugh demonically if your roommate walks in, unawares?
4. When you pack up to move out, do you plan to also pack half my stuff in those boxes and take it with you as well?
5. Do you plan to remove all my furniture from the living room while I am at the grocery store, store it in the storage area, and replace it with all YOUR furniture?
6. Do you plan to come to my door in the middle of the night while I am sleeping and knock softly on my door, because, after all, I am a woman and you are "a man"? And to do so on the very first night?
7. If you have a problem--say, the internet is a little slow one day-- do you plan to run down the hall screaming at me at the top of your lungs?
8. If you have a fight with your girlfriend, do you plan to come home and rub perfume on my cats, in an effort to make them ill?
9. When I object to this practice, do you plan to threaten to throw them off the balcony?
10. When I call the police about this, do you then plan to leave a large note taped to the lid of the toilet, "Let the games begin"?

OK, you may have gotten the sense that most of these psycho cases are male, and if you have, you are right. But the thief, furniture remover and screamer were all women. So it's about 75% lunatic males and 25% lunatic females. I'd say that's a pretty accurate representation of real life statistics, wouldn't you?

I plan to write more on this entertaining topic at a later date. But right now I need to sleep, since my most recent psycho roommate (#1 on the list, who paraded around in his underwear on his very first night, and YES I did tell him NEVER EVER to do that again, or he will be out on his ass) kept me awake, wondering if he planned to knock on my door stark-naked in the middle of the night. Something like that weirdo who showed up at my hammock in the Palapas at midnight in Mexico, eyes all aglow and completely naked. What did he think I would do? Jump his bones? I just asked, in a very annoyed and bored voice, "Yeah? Waddya want?" The crazy guy stood there expectantly. Couldn't I see he had what it takes? I yawned, "I'm tired. I'm going to sleep. Go away." He was shocked at my apparent immunity to his charms, but he left. Thank goddess. GOOD NIGHT!!!

My Inner Self, and Pete Cassani's Beautiful Whaling Guitar

2010-08-01T02:58:00.004-04:00

So tonight I was in Harvard Square, waiting to square off against my newest psycho roommate, soon to be gone bye-bye, not wanting to see him at all but needing to get it over with so I can move on with my life. Finally the guy arrives. I present my case for a deduction in his refund, due to all the crap he pulled in the one short week he stayed at my house, and in the background I can hear Pete Cassani's beautiful guitar. As we begin to wind things up, the volume goes up and up over in the Pit. I assume the monitor has long gone, since it is quite close to midnight. Pete is playing lead guitar to Roger Nicholson's rhythm guitar. Roger has been singing some songs, Pete has been taking the solos. As I say good-bye to my now ex-roommate, alcoholic and unpleasantly unpredictable and young and irresponsible and quite wealthy and no doubt carrying a very sad story in his soul, Pete's guitar solo starts to REALLY soar.

I feel relieved that this most recent saga is over. I LISTENED to my inner self quite QUICKLY for a change. She was REALLY freaking out about this guy, almost the minute he arrived from Germany. My outer self, who represents insane socialization to be blindly "nice" and "understanding" without regard to my own needs and safety, and a long history of being lied to for the sake of other's needs and addictions, was confused. "But he doesn't seem THAT bad? What's the big deal?"

My inner self would have NONE of it and would not let me sleep more than 4 hours a night for the first few days of his arrival. She was virtually SCREAMING at me inside my head, "GET RID OF HIM, NOW!!!"

The most amazing thing is that I am sure she realized almost immediately that he is a totally messed up alcoholic, whereas my lied to socialized self only fully realized it tonight, after one week, when I saw him in front of me, half drunk as I discussed the problems he had caused in one short week. And I realized that he had probably been drunk almost every night, since he arrived late and fumbling and loud from a night out with friends, 5 nights out of the 7 he had been at my house.

I felt like Pete's guitar playing was giving me courage, and I just spoke up clearly and firmly. The soon to be ex-roommate agreed to the various deductions in his refund, gave me the keys and finally we were done!

As I walked to my bike, I swear, Pete's guitar was flying to the heavens. I don't know if I have ever heard him play so beautifully. It was just Pete, the volume cranked up, and this amazingly gorgeous waterfall of music cascading through most of Harvard Square, showering everyone with incandescent stardust, love and JOY!!!

Thanks for the help Pete! I had forgotten how beautifully you play. And how healing, powerful music can be. Pure magic.

The Clones Return to Harvard Square

2010-07-30T20:36:00.003-04:00

Current mood: I Hate Clones, GO AWAY!!!

Two days ago I walked from the Pit in Harvard Square to the Harvard Book Store three blocks away. Walking to the book store, I encountered the usual summer weirdos, the kind I love--drunken poets talking in rhyme, ex-military types stoned out of their minds, the street booksellers with the dog and cat fairly comfy in a rear bike tote, Asian girls looking for grungy Reggae musicians to spice up their lives, and then the usual assorted sundry of tourists, locals and students. But the weirdos were, thankfully, clearly present, and not outnumbered by the dullards.

It took maybe 15 minutes in the bookstore to find the book I wanted (a breezy summer mystery with a female protagonist, perfect for the beach). I paid for the book (only $4 from the used book section in the basement) and walked out the door. I headed back toward the Pit.

I suddenly felt like I was in the Twilight Zone. Had I been abducted by extraterrestrials? Or was I experiencing some kind of Cambridge flashback? In the space of a short 15 minutes, it seemed that the CLONES had landed, en masse. As I forced one foot in front of the other, wave after nauseating wave of CLONE people streamed past me, where only a handful had been just minutes earlier. Denizens of the Village of the Damned, all blank stares and stiff movements, inhabiting the sidewalks, cafes and streets, overwhelming all the weirdo summer energy with empty repressed rage, bringing all life to absolute zero. WTF???

The Clones are the soulless occupiers of space, lacking personality or joy or sharp edges, having been smoothed to smithereens by a forced education, adherence to the party line, bland vacations to theme parks, too many video games, too much Fox News, too many nannies, too much CONTROL, no crazy spontaneity, no LOVE.

Suddenly the Square was overrun with these nightmarish figures. A very perceptive person I know once said, "The strange thing about Harvard Square area is that you can see that the people are physically there, but they SEEM completely absent." She was right on. And it is totally creepy. Makes you want to shake someone, "Hey YOU!!! Are you home in there? Where ARE YOU??? WAKE UP!!!"

But I'm pretty sure if I ever tried that, the clone would think I was nuts, on drugs, or worse. Clones don't understand beings outside their own limited sphere, and even WITHIN their sphere, they haven't a clue. But they don't care.

These clones are cold, cruel, rude, self-centered, dull, privileged, mostly very very wealthy, the children of the corporate elite. I have actually seen these clones step over an old man passed out on the sidewalk without bothering to check if he was dead or alive. I have seen these clones chastise a homeless person "Get a job, you lazy bum!" I have seen the mother of one of these clones, herself a senior clone, laugh at the Asian man who plays his special violin in the square, laugh because he is different, seems a bit strange, someone not totally cloned, and so, a total threat to her world view.

Go AWAY clones!!! You are messing up my life and our world, and I DON'T like it!!! Go live in the jungle for awhile, or get your heart broken in a sordid affair, or live with a dozen cats and hoard lightbulb boxes, give all your money to charity and sail around the world, go to Iraq and visit a family with a child missing limbs blown off by Dick Cheney and his friends in their search for MORE oil for the company YOU invest in, ANYTHING to get your REAL self BACK into your body. It's got to be there SOMEWHERE. Maybe then you will find your heart, and get off this insane greed and power treadmill you run on every day of your sad horrible life--the deadly treadmill that is turning you into a life-sucking vampire clone.

Yes I am that optimistic. Or foolish. I have hope, against all odds, and despite many tears shed, that even insanely wealthy vampire clones can come back to life. And heal. And begin to help HEAL this earth. Yep. I believe in magic.

Saturday Night Impressions, Harvard Square Again

2010-07-24T23:49:00.001-04:00

Roger Nicholson again playing his sad songs, this time in the Pit. People sit and listen, and actually applaud. As the night wears on it gets crazy (I leave and then come back again later). A group of shirtless drunken frat boys are yelping and shouting. There is a full moon, so maybe that explains it. But actually Roger has fewer problems with this insanity than some rockers I know. I believe this may be due to the low-key plaintive nature of his music...but Roger claims its because he "has done this a lot" and knows how to handle people.

Peter the automaton guitarist has his sound turned up WAAAYY past 80 db. Where is that monitor when you need them? Roger says he plans to play in the Pit a lot more often, which no doubt means Peter will be blasting his music a lot more often too. And as I have said before, I really HATE Peter's automaton playing. Thankfully, I'm not the only one. The other day, a guy was yelling out "YOU SUCK!!! PLAY SOMETHING DIFFERENT FOR ONCE!" I went to talk to the guy and no, he wasn't drunk. He was trying to do some work on his computer and he just hates the automaton guitar stuff too.

I chat with a couple. She is second generation Pakistani from Ontario, Canada, and he is a blond, sharp-eyed MIT researcher from Australia. They seem nice together, affectionate and respectful. I think maybe a pretty good couple, for once. But...they love the Ryan Adams song about "screw all my friends behind my back, with a smile on your face" and look lovingly at one another as Roger sings it. It occurs to me, "Maybe this will be their First Dance song at the wedding?" That would be hilarious!

Several students next to me are talking loudly. "Well, she said it was the BEST SEX she ever had!" The Ontario woman, a young researcher, throws a piercing glance their way, and suddenly they are completely befuddled. I am impressed by that piercing glance. I'm going to practice it. And use it whenever appropriate.

Once again, I don't like my new roommate. What else is new. I accepted him sight unseen, in the middle of dealing with a sick cat and another roommate I absolutely hated. This guy too is German, and he speaks in such a clipped aggressive way. I KNOW all Germans don't speak this way, do they? I mean, Heidi Klum doesn't speak in such a clipped aggressive manner, although maybe she does, in German.

Because I don't like him I didn't sleep so well, which puts me in not the best mood, and I hate that. So I guess I will kick him out, sooner than I thought. Boring boring boring.

I went to Singing Beach again, and it was SO foggy that the fog was blowing in off the water like clouds across a mountain. It was SO BEAUTIFUL!!! But not too warm. So after an hour I went to check out the arts fair in Manchester. One Man, B.Art (Bart) from Gloucester makes the most AMAZING and fun sculptures. Funny creatures, all of whom seem to be dancing, which makes sense, since he was a dancer and choreographer in another chapter of his life. If I had $350 to spare I would definitely buy one. A REAL artist, pretty hard to find these days.

Good night!!! I need to win the lottery!!! Come on people!!! Send me some numbers!!! I will accept them in my sleep!

The Unhappy Rich People of Harvard Square

2010-07-18T21:52:00.000-04:00

Today I took the commuter rail to Singing Beach, my favorite beach in Massachusetts. Even when it is hot and a little crowded, like today, I still love it. I body surf and play in the waves and most of the grown-ups look on, befuddled, but a little girl being held by her grandma laughs joyously every time I dive into the surf, so I know I am on the right track. One man my age watches me dive in over and over again, and finally, tentatively, dives into the waves along with his 10 year old daughter. When he surfaces he looks really surprised, like, "Wow, what did I just do?" and almost immediately heads to shore. Oh well. Maybe next time he'll do it again. And again and again and again. And finally have some real FUN in his life.

On the way back I had a nice long chat with a Swiss boy, I'll call him Emil. He had been biking to the beach with his Mom and older sister. He thought the sand was too hot. He said he didn't have enough toys with him. We discussed ways to make a bike-friendly beach umbrella that would dismantle to a size of about 16 inches by 6 inches, perfect for a bike rack. And I told him how a small shovel and small ruler are all you need to make a sand pyramid on the beach.

Then we talked about witches in Salem (Emil hoped that none would get on the train at Salem--I assured him all the people looked like tourists, not witches,unfortunately), UFOs (my daughter saw one once, hovering over her and a younger friend, in Quebec--maybe THAT explains everything!), snakes and how fast they can slither away and how they tend to eat things much larger than they are, and the alligator that came pretty darn close to eating a teenager in Sanibel Island, Florida until I yelled at the teen to quit bugging the poor beast. Emil told me about his two cats, and how one had run away, and then about the rat which took residence in their home and ate their potatoes. I thought this was very funny, the idea of a rat hunkering down behind the cupboard to munch on potatoes. His mother, on the other hand, was a little embarrassed. She said the rat ate the pumpkin too.

So for 40 minutes Emil and I had a most entertaining and fun time. Then we got off in Boston and said our good-byes, and I headed to Harvard Square, happy and full of sun and sand and salt and stories.

But arriving at Harvard Square...My God!!! It was even worse today than yesterday. WHY is everyone SO unhappy? Come ON people!!! If you are so bored in Harvard Square, go to the beach! Or take a trip to Vermont, Maine, NH, Canada, anywhere!!! But WHY hang around Harvard Square in a foul sour mood, grimacing and snarling at everyone you pass? Did someone designate H Square the "Nasty Mood Depot" or something?

On top of that, Peter the robotic Russian guitarist was playing. I really really hate his playing. A young know-it-all tried to educate me recently about my lack of openness and how I could really ENJOY Peter's robotic elevator music if I just opened my heart. I told him, "Nope, no way. This guy's music is totally repressed rage and sadness and it drives me nuts and I hate it with a passion." The young know-it-all suggested I TELL Peter how I feel. Hah!!! Peter feels he is at war with the world. Generally I never tell a musician I think their music sucks, and I'm definitely NOT going to make an exception with him. Too dangerous.

So I hung around, listening to my own music, earplugs in, read the paper, watched the shenanigans of Sam, high again, yelling at people about how they are all being controlled (probably true, but people tend not to listen when they think you are crazy or high), watched how the cop did not mind the thug guy parking his car in a no-parking zone, even told the thug it was OK if just for a short time, even though the thug was there for about an hour, and I was reminded of Sam talking about the Russian mafia in Harvard Square and corrupt cops.

But as hard as I tried, I just found it harder and harder to hang onto the happiness I felt from body surfing at Singing Beach and discussing witches and snakes with Emil on the train home.

I once told someone, "I don't do drugs, but honestly, I think a dose of Ecstasy for everyone in Harvard Square might be a GREAT idea!" Or maybe just get everybody off their psych meds and see if anyone feels any better? I can see why Sam resorts to screaming. Harvard Square will do that to you.

Saturday Night In Harvard Square

2010-07-17T23:53:00.000-04:00

Roger Nicholson is playing his sad love songs. At about 9 p.m. I am the only one clapping. People are hot, and as usual, not very enthusiastic. WHAT IS WRONG WITH PEOPLE HERE??? WTF??? Are they all on mind-numbing anti-depressants? Man, I really do not know what happened to the JOY in this area. Maybe Harvard is a secret soul-sucking Vampire-type institution. Maybe.

But I left at about 10 to go home and deal with my psycho roommate (Is there any other kind, especially when they are male, MIT researchers, and German?). He leaves on Sunday YAYAYAY!!! His girlfriend was present (here for a visit) so no confrontation at all. He is really a Dr. Jekyll/Mr. Hyde creep. When he first moved in a few months ago, I kept dropping things whenever he was around. I knew it was my inner self warning me to get rid of him. And she was right. I managed to avoid him almost entirely for 3.5 months. When I didn't he turned into a real prick.

So on to the next psycho? I am getting reaaallllly tired of this crap.

But back to Harvard Square. So I returned after eating a cheese and olive omelette and dealing with my roommate. This time a few people actually CLAPPED for Roger. Maybe because he had the sound turned up pretty darn high. Ha ha!!! Take THAT Cambridge Arts Council Monitor, who surely left by 11 p.m.

A young-ish Italian guy near me was checking out all the women. It was actually kind of nice to see, since so many Harvard Square guys seemed positively neutered. That, or gross frat boy types who make my skin crawl.

Speaking of which, a few days ago I was walking from the Concord train station to Walden Pond. Finally got into the last stretch, walking up the hill, only 5 minutes til park property. Coming down the hill were a group of six junior frat boys. Junior as in high school jocks. Normally I ignore this type of little brat. But I was hot, sweaty and annoyed so when they looked at me, I just stared back at them defiantly.

As soon as they passed me, they all started making weird animal noises. Sounded like rutting antelopes, except I have no idea what rutting antelopes sound like. I figured it was the heat and the hormones. I never did like jocks and frat boys. No subtlety whatsoever. I went for a ride with a frat football player when I was 14 (he was 16) and I swear if I hadn't been strong enough to fight him off, things would have ended very badly. Ugh ugh ugh ugh. Not sure why I went for a drive, oh yeah. He was a neighbor from across the street. It was summer, he had a convertible, and I was bored, young and curious. Ugh ugh ugh ugh.

Back to Harvard Square. So Sam the mandolin player yelled hello to me. But I didn't want to talk with him because yesterday he might have been high and started explaining to me about the Russian mob in Harvard Square (maybe that explains Peter the robotic guitar player!) and the corrupt police and on and on. I was tired and wanted to just go home, so I finally cut him off.

A week or so ago, Sam came up, glowing and sweating, eyes dilated. "Hey, since I saw you an hour ago, I dropped acid!" I haven't heard anyone say something like that in years. I said, "Hmm... That's not too good, Sam." But he waved his arms as if to fly. "No! It's beeeyoootiful!!!" I walked on. Sam did a dance. I crossed my fingers that the police would not arrest him. Again.

But flying reminds me...on July 4th I went to Singing Beach in Manchester, and as the train approached the station, I saw three people falling out of the sky. Literally. Except they were attached to wings and had motors on their feet. Sky divers. It was pretty cool, especially since I first thought they were kites or birds, and only gradually realized these were three humans with wings and motors on their feet!

Yes I know, this is scattered. No doubt I have ADHD like my new favorite young cute soap star, Finn Wittrock, who plays Damon on AMC. I don't think any of the old-timers like his storyline. I might be the only one, but I just started to watch AMC (actually via youtube, so I can just watch his storyline) a couple of months ago, and some of the old timers have been watching for 30 years!!!

Anyway, Damon is a troubled youth who is really smart and snarky (also Finn is a very good actor) and is falling in love with his girlfriend's smart snarky lawyer Mom, sexy Liza. It is a pretty HOT storyline. I can't figure out why so many of the old-timers hate it. OK, there is a history there. It seems Liza's Mom slept with Liza's boyfriend back in the day. But I think that was a different scenario, since Liza's Mom Marian was pretty much a sex fiend. Whereas Damon and Liza actually seem to like one another.

As I've said before, I would LOVE to be a soap opera writer. Characters bury people alive, steal babies, cheat and lie and con each other incessantly. It's so GREAT!!!

OK, Harvard Square. Last vignette. So I went to buy a small ice cream at JP Licks. I don't really like ice cream that much, but when it is really hot in the summer time, I might have a small cone once or twice. This was my second visit this year.

The guy who served me last time was there, and he was really hyped up. I realized I like him, just liked his vibe. He reminds me of someone I knew a few years ago in Montreal. He and I and the girl serving me started having a pretty incoherent conversation, and laughing a lot and no one knew quite why, and none of us were stoned! Maybe the proximity to so much sugar? Who cares? It was FUN!!!

Grief Circles Needed, then WAKE UP and Take ACTION

2010-06-24T20:40:00.009-04:00

This might be rambling, but so what? That's how I get when I feel overwhelmed with grief.

Just about every day that I live on this earth, I feel I can't bear it another second, cannot bear the whole-scale slaughter of every beautiful precious magic-infused being in service to profit and power by the psychopathic criminals who have come to run corporations and governments that span the globe, but particularly in the U.S.

Now a study shows that whales the world over are filled with toxins. The lead researcher says the only future he can see for whales is extinction.
http://news.yahoo.com/s/ap/20100624/ap_on_sc/whaling

It hurts my heart and soul to a depth I can't express. When the US invaded Iraq to steal their oil and establish military bases, I suggested to our peace group that we have weekly grief circles on the MIT campus. I thought really wailing out our anger and desperation and soul-searing pain might be a good first step. I was ridiculed. But maybe that is what we need, for real. Grief. And then ACTION.

Maybe grief circles for the prehistoric Pelicans who are being slaughtered by British Petroleum (a company with one of the worst safety records ever, and no oversight from the oil boys' hand-picked government reps, and WHERE are the criminal arrests?) would start the process.

Then grief circles for the bees, who are dying of a "mysterious" illness which just HAPPENS to coincide with widespread introduction of genetically modified crops and newer better pesticides specifically DESIGNED to kill insects? (colonies are, not surprisingly, testing with deadly high levels of pesticides)

Oh but Monsanto needs to make MORE money, dontcha know? Who cares if we lose 3/4 of our food supply as a result of bees dying out, not to mention the simple tragic loss of a most amazing insect?

How about grief circles for the poor people of Baghdad who could not escape the bombs launched at no risk to American invaders, and shown on TV like some really cool video game? The rich Iraqis had plenty of advanced warning, and left the country. Only the poor were left behind to deal with the "shock and awe" of dead and maimed babies and grandmothers, as the US and their power- and oil-mad "allies" (i.e. partners in crime) killed several birds with one stone. A HUGE defense industry DEMANDS invasions and invented enemies. Otherwise, who will buy the bombs? And Iraq has the "richest" oilfields on earth, but Saddam had become reticent about "sharing" these riches with the US and its allies. Oh, but this is all old news, right?

Not so for the poor people of Baghdad. Hard enough to deal with a child growing up missing a limb or too with decent health care. Just try it with NO health care and NO money. And don't forget, the US is STILL in Iraq. And Afghanistan.

And how about grief circles for the Florida panther, trying its very best to repopulate (with help from a few wonderful scientists) despite being wiped out sometime last century. And then mowed down by a car driven by someone speeding to his/her vacation in the sun, at some fake oceanside resort. Wonder how these folks are enjoying the oil soaked beaches? Oh right. Small price to pay to drive that car, which killed that panther, who lay there dying in an incomprehending daze. What predator had pulled him down? The predator of greed and stupidity. The predator with insatiable need, the predator who can never stop and ask, "What can I do to CHANGE this catastrophe?".

Here's a suggestion: STOP DRIVING YOUR CAR!!! You KNOW you can!!! Walk or take a bus or commuter rail or ride a bicycle. And if your community doesn't offer public transit, ORGANIZE to change that. At least, if you MUST drive, SLOW THE FUCK DOWN for wildlife!!!

Or if you are living in the burbs, too far removed for biking, consider downsizing intentionally and moving closer to the city, where it will be easier to bike, walk and take a bus.

What ELSE can you do? Stop buying CRAP that you don't need. Start looking for ways to truly connect and those toys will lose their meaning.

And start speaking up. Call and write your government reps. Take your money OUT of oil stocks. Vote! Organize! Boycott! Go live in a cabin in the woods. Do whatever it takes to change the path these killer criminals have put us on and save our precious planet.

Oh hell, maybe nothing will help. But if we all stand here in a catatonic daze and shrug our shoulders, it is CERTAIN nothing will change. WAKE THE HELL UP NOW PEOPLE!!!! Grieve, and then organize, and ACT TO CHANGE this insanity. You know you can. You know you can.

Sex and the City 2 Review, Part 2 and a BP comment

2010-06-24T19:47:00.001-04:00

Well gosh darn it, I HAVE to finish my SATC2 review so that I can move onto other things, such as WHY aren't the BP pricks all in JAIL, arrested and charged for their heinous crimes against nature and humanity?

OK, back to SATC2, and why I liked it. First, I LOVED the gay wedding. Waaayyy over the top--it was dazzling! Liza Minnelli singing and dancing to "Single Ladies" was pure ART, so inspired, and so absolutely perfect. She puts all the fake lip-syncing music industry product "singers" to shame.

Thought it was a pretty interesting move to bring a big chunk of the movie to Abu Dhabi in the middle east, and show the abundance of wealth over there. Oil money has not been confined to the rich creepy American oil boys, clearly. Made me think about the future of the American Empire, or perhaps, the illusion of such. These days, isn't it really a Global Corporate Capitalist empire, with no national boundary? The boundary is really, "I have the money and power, so I will make the laws I want. You have no money or power, so you either shut up or go to jail." Need to have a government of, by and FOR the people!!! Isn't that what the constitution says? Oh, wait, I forgot, the Supreme Court decided recently that corporations ARE people. Oops. Time to limit Supreme Court appointments to 4 years at a time.

I know some may object to the caricature of Muslim men oppressing women, and in particular scantily clad 50 year old women. But I felt really that they were a stand-in for men in general, in the good old US of A-holes. And don't tell me women are not oppressed in this country.

Women still earn only 75 cents on the dollar to men for comparable work. Men are still not held accountable for their crimes (for example, only a tiny percentage of rapes on campuses are ever reported, and an even smaller fraction end up in court). Women still face aggression, judgment, abuse, ridicule, impoverishment, and all sorts of other very damaging treatment at the hands of men. So I LOVED the scene where Samantha tells an entire group of judgmental tittering men, "YES I HAVE SEX" and then gives them all the finger.

After all, so much of women's oppression is STILL about controlling or filtering their sexuality. If it can be turned into a commodity, objectified, used to make women even more insecure, then, hey, that's GREAT. But if a woman truly claims the right to her OWN body and her OWN sexuality, that is dangerous as hell. Just might lead to a revolution.

What else did I like in this movie? OK, yes it was fun to experience the vicarious thrill of riding in true first class luxury on a plane to Abu Dhabi. Individual compartments, enough space to sleep, food and drink and warm towels. Made me think I might overcome my fear of flying in such conditions. Might...

I loved the almost ridiculous homage to old-time movie-making. A handsomely rugged man rides up out of nowhere to a desert tent, leaving the four women gasping. (although admittedly I was the only person laughing at this scene, oh well...)

I HATED Big and Carrie's really fancy NYC apartment. Also not a fan of the luxury suite in the hotel in Abu Dhabi. Too much Trump-style clutter, and too many dark blues and greys. Maybe a new art director in SATC3?

Also, the male partners of these women were pretty much relegated to the background. That's OK, but for SATC3, I would LIKE to see more of Miranda's bespectacled ex-bartender hubby Steve and Charlotte's sweaty bald sexy Jewish lawyer spouse Harry. A little bit of Big goes a long way, but maybe Samantha's younger hunk Smith Jarrod could make more of an appearance next time?

OK, that's about it for SATC2. Next, the much less happy subject of oil criminals who have fully infiltrated the US government. Ciao for now.

Why I Like Sex and The City 2 (Part One)

2010-06-02T01:06:00.001-04:00

Disclaimer: I am NOT a SATC fanatic, never have been. But I really enjoyed SATC 2. SATC1 was a little too fluffy for my taste, but SATC2 deals with some hefty issues (OK, not hefty in the sense of war and famine, but how about mother-guilt, workplace bullying, anti-women behavior, pro-sex menopause, gay marriage?). AND it made me laugh. So here is MY review, Part One:

I am 100% convinced that one reason some movie critics are shitting all over SATC 2 is because they are closet misogynists. Misogynists REALLY hate women past the age of about 30, because that is typically the age when women start to SPEAK UP and become less inclined to put up with crap. And of course the SATC women are in fact all over the age of 40, even 50. OMG!!! How shocking!!! Aren't women supposed to be knitting socks and sitting home watching soap operas by that point? How DARE they be out in the world, sharing opinions, traveling to Dubai, getting in trouble, having sex? Don't they KNOW BETTER???? What is WRONG with the world? It seems to have gone completely HAYWIRE!!!

Kathie Lee Gifford commented that "the girls were not well-lit". OK, she has a point. The lighting was not terribly flattering. But you now what, I kind of LIKED that about this movie. It meant that the actresses actually LOOK like 40 or 50-something women, rather than a 45 year old woman with the smooth (botoxed, surgically enhanced, perfectly lit) skin of a 17 year old.

Yes!!! It's a REVOLUTION!!! Again, how shocking. A 50 year old woman on screen, having sex, and sporting a wrinkle or two. No doubt the whole capitalist system is set for a collapse in another year or two, with this kind of revolution taking place on screen.

The funny thing is, a 30-something guy like Ewan McGregor is considered a sexy hunk even when he's got lines and blemishes all over his pretty face. But a 50 year old actress needs to be smooth as a 15 year old, to be considered fuckable (i.e. attractive), at least in Hollywood-land.

Now what is THAT all about? Maybe Hollywood is run by a bunch of borderline pedophiles who really crave pre-pubescent girls? I know the music biz is--I've been to a few music industry events and witnessed the not-so-yummy middle aged creeps slobbering over talentless 16 year olds while passing up interaction with a talented 27 year old woman. So maybe the same is true in H-Wood Land.

OK That's part one. In part two I will deal with fashion vs violence and asexual crones vs sexy hormonal 50 year olds. I will also comment on Carrie and Big's UGLY fancy apartment (PLEASE HIRE a better Art Director for the next film!!!) and the wonderful gay wedding.

Maybe Time to Change Our Ways?

2010-05-04T20:50:00.004-04:00

Let me be VERY clear: I am REALLY glad the rigged car did not blow up in Times Square. My daughter lives in the NYC area, and I LOVE NYC. It is full of the most amazing people from all over the world--artists and activists of all stripes, people with light in their eyes and something going on upstairs.

HOWEVER...let's also be clear. It would take a complete idiot not to comprehend anger at the US from places such as Afghanistan, Iraq, Iran, Pakistan, etc. etc. Hell, even many Canadians and Europeans hate the US!

Let's face it. All these millions of angry people are NOT just "mentally ill", or "jealous about the American system", or simply part of the "Old Europe", or uneducated or uncooperative or just plain difficult.

It doesn't take much imagination to comprehend, for example, that villagers in the hills of Pakistan/Afghanistan might be just a TAD pissed off about the many civilian deaths caused by US drones. The most conservative estimates show that TEN TIMES the number of civilians (women, children, old men, wedding parties, people eating breakfast) as actual intended "targets" (and most of the time these targets are turned in by neighboring villagers, who may simply be using the US to gain more tribal power) are killed in drone attacks.

It also doesn't take much intelligence to comprehend how citizens of Baghdad and Iraq might be a little annoyed at the US, after this country bombed the crap out of that city/country, killing and maiming many innocent civilians in the quest for oil and domination in the Middle East. Estimates give up to ONE MILLION civilians killed by the US.

Let's be honest, folks. The US just doesn't have a great record in the way it allegedly "spreads democracy" throughout the world. At this point, with globalization and all, it really is difficult to know who is pulling what strings, isn't it.

But let's ask the "bomb-huggers" (I LOVE this phrase, not sure who coined it), of EVERY nationality, to STOP IT NOW!!!

CO2, which is primarily a by-product of burning oil and coal, is destroying our atmosphere, and as a consequence, a planet.

Wars kill people, and so do invasions and drone searches for "insurgents"--and let's not forget that the US was FOUNDED by "insurgents".

Money that could be spent on health care and education and care for the poor and weak among us, and environmental protection and a million other fabulously HEALING projects is WASTED on bombs and invasions and search for more oil, when we should NOT be burning it AT ALL.

Come on BOYS!!! Enough is enough. Please, tomorrow morning, wake up and REALIZE there is another path. Try to imagine what it might be like if we all start cherishing life, and let go of hierarchies and power struggles and bullying and seek ways to connect and love and laugh together.

Honestly, it would be just amazing. And it is the only way we will survive as a species.

Simple Joys, Walden Pond, Real Magic

2010-05-03T01:38:00.005-04:00

Swimming at Walden Pond, water so cold it makes you scream when you first jump in, ducking through "Path Closed" police tape and wading on a path in water two feet deep (bad spring floods) but finally you find a nice little perch on two rocks in the sun and a black bird comes by and just sits and looks at you calmly and you swear you have never felt better in your life.

The really horrible thing about what we are doing to our earth is that we are destroying ourselves, I mean our REAL selves, that person we meet when a bird jumps up on a table to eat the cookie crumbs we have left while we were mindlessly nibbling, staring angrily at a computer screen when really we would SO MUCH rather be laughing and sharing a beer with a friend, and yet this silly small bird, not knowing anything about all our traumas and neuroses, just jumps right up, and helps herself to the crumbs we left, and in spite of everything, we just smile.

I witnessed this today, in a frustrated-looking young student, and I've witnessed such miracles a million times.

So we are destroying the very thing that saves us from ourselves, or rather, from our false selves--the selves that obsess over silliness--mean stupid bosses and money worries and the right coat or perfect boots and am I smart enough or pretty enough or good enough or bad enough. Some little bird or fall leaves or a stormy sky or a breeze full of flowers or a buzzing bee or a school of very friendly fish might happen by, and for those few minutes, we forget all that silliness, and just feel fine.

If it ever occurred to anyone that all of these beautiful beings and manifestations of nature are truly blessed, are in fact goddesses and gods, a portal to pure happiness, REAL magic, would we THEN be able to STOP this destruction?

Will new shoes or the perfect haircut or a better car or bigger house or shinier toys EVER bring that sense of simple joy, peace, being happy just to connect? I don't think so.

It's time to save ourselves, by saving our planet. Fast.

Well Ain't That Funny...Mormons Mess Up, Again

2010-04-13T18:42:00.005-04:00

So the Mormon church, which in 2008 invested heavily in the anti-gay marriage proposal, Prop 8, in California (it succeeded, for now) has once again had to pay out some big money to a victim of child sexual abuse.
http://www.grandforksherald.com/event/apArticle/id/D9F2GO382/

Kerry Lewis, 38, was abused by Scoutmaster Timur Dykes in the 1980's. Dykes had already confessed to a Mormon Bishop that he had abused 17 boys. The church did not call the police, OR turn him in. Nothing. In fact, church leaders stated that they had decided it was OK for Dykes to be around children, "because he had repented".

http://www.oregonlive.com/portland/index.ssf/2010/03/mother_of_man_suing_boy_scouts.html

Amazingly, the Mormon Church states that it "absolutely condemns any kind of child abuse" (unless the perpetrator has "repented" I guess). However, even a quick Google search will bring up a number of cases settled by the church involving child sexual abuse. Here's one from 2001: http://www.mazeministry.com/mormonism/women/mormonsex3.htm

Like other organized religions (Catholicism, for example), the approach taken by the Mormon church has been to cover up these cases. In the 2001 case, a church member excommunicated for child sexual abuse was then reinstated and went on to abuse an 11 year old boy.

Now HOW do the policies of the Mormon Church make sense? It's OK to hide killer pedophiles (and I used the word "killer" intentionally because child rapists DO destroy lives), but not OK to want to marry the love of your life, if that person happens to be the same gender?

I am getting to a point where I am really wondering about the whole POINT of organized religion. Is it just to hide stuff? To intimidate people? To occasionally do some good and the rest of the time wreak havoc? Was organized religion just invented to steal property (a HUGE motive behind witch trials AND forced "conversions" of native Americans)?

Maybe it really is time to return to small local gatherings for spiritual and community purposes. Or simply allow one's own spiritual beliefs to blossom, and let go the need to force any particular belief on anyone else. Rather than churches we could just have local community centers which help disaster victims and the homeless and provide some warmth and comfort. And NEVER EVER hide child rapists. EVER. Shame on the Mormon Church. Shame on the Catholic Church. Shame on any person or organization that hides and "protects" child rapists and other life destroyers.

Thanks to the victim in this case and others for having the courage to speak out and take a stand. That takes real guts.

Sometimes People Come Through in a BIG Way

2010-04-08T20:24:00.005-04:00

Yes, Sometimes People Come Through in a BIG Way, and then you want to cry, or maybe wash yourself in pure water (Walden Pond in April?) and cleanse away the tears and frustration and fear.

Today I took my cat Pooh to the vet for a RadioIodine treatment for her hyperthyroid. There was no other choice, because she had a bad reaction to the drugs given for this condition. We had opted for just an injection with I-131, because the scintigraphic scan was above and beyond the funds we had managed to gather from contributions. The scan provides much greater accuracy, but we just could not afford it.

And at the very last minute, a fellow animal-lover, someone I have never met, called the vet to say she wanted to pay for the scan. I am stunned in disbelief.

So so tired. This has been stressful, but a real learning experience. Sometimes people come through in a REALLY big way, just when you least expect it. Wow. I am really honestly speechless.

What Happens When You Ask for Help, Sometimes...

2010-03-31T20:45:00.003-04:00

So my cat urgently needs a treatment that will cost $1325 and NO I am not soliciting funds. But I have been going to various funding agencies, trying to get some help to pay this bill. Not good timing, at all. But I won't go into that.

However, HERE is what happens (sometimes) when one starts checking at various "emergency pet funds".

First of all, due to the fact that SO MUCH MONEY was drained out of the American economy directly into the coffers of Halliburton and other Iraq invasion beneficiaries, as well as to individual rip-off CEOS, Wall Street dudes, Bankers and other criminals, MANY pet funds have almost dried up. So cross at least 30% off your list right off the bat.

The few that still ARE accepting requests want the minutae of your life, down to the last detail. It is very invasive, to say the least. I am waiting for someone to ask for my medical file. I am sure that is next. Or a list of every job I've held, for own long, did I quit or get laid off or fired? Or maybe detailed info on my love life?

Some fund reps take advantage of people asking for help by being downright abusive. They figure YOU will take the crap, right, cuz you are desperate? Well, not always. I hung up on one woman today. After about seven minutes of her aggressive, condescending voice, I just could not take another nasally nasty comment. And I really did not want to scream at her. Or no, I really did. Want to scream. But thought perhaps better to hang up than totally burn that bridge (I can always say I lost the connection...).

Some people are touchingly kind. One person, on government assistance, offered $5. I declined. Seriously, I just cannot take money from someone on a fixed income, even if my cat urgently needs this procedure to survive. (RadioIodine treatment for hyperthyroid--the meds were causing serious liver problems and she was taken off them)

But the end result of all this is that it occurred to me that at least in the Boston area, it is really "not done", you know, asking for help. I once asked two city employees to walk me across the BU bridge (half of it, really). I was at the end of my rope due to the abusive pricks at MIT and in the middle of an anxiety attack. Do you know what they did? This lovely man and woman, who probably go to church faithfully every Sunday (or not) laughed at me, and ridiculed my plight.

Fortunately, just as they walked on in their hilarity, a European student on a bike passed by and very kindly stopped to help me.

I know, Boston is full of pricks. Even the Globe has written articles about this. But some of the people I have spoken with this week are from other parts of the country, and also not so nice.

So I am thinking maybe, just for spite, I will start asking people for help. Simple things, like, "Would you mind carrying this heavy bag up the T stairs for me?" Or "Could you tell me where Garden Street is?"

Just for the hell of it. Just to freak people out. I know, I know. In other communities such questions would be considered quite ordinary, and in the case of heavy bags, I would probably not even need to ask.

But around here the policy seems to be "Do it yourself or phoque the hell off!" (a phoque is a seal in French) Last September I must have asked 10 Harvard students if they could check an address of a church on their iPhones before I finally gave up and asked a Haitian cab driver for help (my phone had no internet).

An older Haitian woman had asked ME for help to find the church, where she could get some shoes (hers were completely threadbare). The cab driver kindly offered to drive her to the church, free of charge. But the rich students were just too damn busy (or not, One said "Uh, my reception is not that good" as he clicked through his email).

So here is my plan. Just to stir up some manure and create some excitement, I am going to suddenly turn even more radical! I am going to try EACH and EVERY day to ask someone for help!!! Please don't arrest me for this! I know it is REALLY REALLY STRANGE. But that is my plan. Change the world, one "Could you help me?" at a time.

Why I Hate the New Health Care, Even if Some of it Is Good.

2010-03-23T18:28:00.006-04:00

Don't fool yourselves. This is NOT Canadian health care. Canadians do NOT pay for their health care out of pocket. It is paid by taxes (rates almost equivalent to Massachusetts), and the rich are taxed more than the poor, as they should be.

This US health care is only a very poor start. Yes, about 2/3 of the people without health care will now have access to it. The other third will still lack health care. (For a good critique, http://www.now.org/press/03-10/03-21b.html)

I HATE the anti-choice provisions, which Obama, allegedly a pro-choice candidate, just signed into law. This will primarily affect poor and working class women. No nice rich girl, including Obama's own daughters, will ever be denied reproductive choice. If women have to pay extra for abortion coverage, then men should be required to pay extra for penis pumps and Viagra, now covered under most insurance plans. Yeah, let's try that, and just WATCH how quickly the anti-women anti-choice measures are removed.

I HATE the anti-aging clause, which allows Insurance companies to penalize people for getting older. Since women live at least ten years longer than men, it is old women who will primarily be penalized. Anti-gender provisions are still allowed as well, for larger companies, i.e. women can be penalized for their femaleness as a "pre-existing health condition". WTF????

I HATE the threat of fines for refusing to purchase health care, especially when the ceilings of what one should be able to afford are so unreasonable. For example, to be eligible for MassHealth in Massachusetts (the model this plan with follow), a single person must earn less than $14K per year, and even that amount can be questioned. 14K. Have you EVER tried to live on less than $300 per week in Massachusetts. What a joke.

I HATE the fact that stocks for the big Pharma thieves have just gone through the roof. What does THAT tell you?

Yes, I know the Republicans hate this bill. Which makes me HOPE that it is in fact ONE step in the right direction. I also know the Insurance companies spent a lot of money--but they DID achieve many of their aims, make no mistake. I believe this is a GOOD day for them, because now people who refused to sign up with them in the past will have no choice.

In Canada, Pharmaceuticals are regulated, and prices kept reasonably low. If you want high-falutin' extra insurance, you are not prohibited from getting it. But you don't need it. Just by living in Canada and paying your taxes (or even if you DON'T pay them!), you will be entitled to, for example, have a baby in a hospital, or have surgery on your knee, or see a doctor whenever you need to.

The difference is that the greedy, unnecessary middle-man is cut out, i.e. the useless insurance companies. Guess what? Not EVERYTHING should be up for grabs to make a profit. In my world that includes health care, food, water, basic shelter. If the capitalists really need to keep playing their games, let them offer luxury goods to rich folk. The way things are going, these are the only people who will soon have money to spend, in any case, in the very near future.

Finally, The Truth

2010-03-19T02:57:00.004-04:00

OK, Everybody, I'm finally going to tell you the Truth!

Rich people are nice. Poor people are lazy. If you don't have health care you just plain don't deserve it. War is necessary to defend our fine democracy, even when the so-called "war" involves invading and occupying sovereign countries and stealing their oil.

If a musician is promoted by the music industry, he or she is a genius and you should adore this person, even though your gut instinct is telling you the music really SUCKS. Do NOT listen to your gut instinct. It is usually wrong. Whatever Madison Ave, TV ads, Campaign promos, the government or anyone else selling ANYTHING says is RIGHT. Do NOT, I repeat, do NOT listen to your gut instinct, your inner wisdom or anything else. If you do, you will always be wrong.

A woman cannot be trusted. She is prone to lying and deceit. So if a man, whether he is a famous athlete or a bum on the street, says the sex was consensual, it WAS. Rape is only a fabrication in the minds of some loose women. It happens very very rarely--and then, only in cases when some neutral male witness can corroborate the story of the weak-minded woman.

If you are homeless, it is your own fault. You should have known better than to listen to your banker or mortgage broker. I don't care how earnest they appeared to be or how many stats they pushed at you, YOU should have KNOWN they were lying!

Bail-outs to rich guys, i.e. bankers, wall-street dudes and CEOS, does NOT amount to welfare for the rich, no matter how often you hear these lies from pinko leftists. Tax breaks for these guys also is NOT welfare. They DESERVE these millions! These guys work hard for their money, harder than any janitor working 2 jobs to support her family will EVER work! Even when you see a CEO on vacay in the Bahamas, believe me they are ALWAYS working.

And NO, they are NOT exploiting the poor. If you are poor, it's your own fault, bad karma. Had you had better karma, you would have been born into a wealthy family, gone to the best schools, graduated from Harvard and be running your own company by now. The fact that none of that happened for you MUST mean you were a REAL a-hole in a previous life. So shut up about it!

Let's face it. Males are just generally smarter than women. Didn't Larry Summers, the ex-prez of Harvard make some such statement regarding science and women? Doesn't he work for Obama now? So if he said it, it must be true! And even if he didn't...come on! Why would men talk SO much and SO loudly while so many women sit there and demurely take in all these words if the words weren't truly AMAZING, fascinating and just generally AWESOME, dude?

And as far as global warming or climate change goes, it just doesn't exist. So WHAT if a few glaciers are melting? There are plenty more where those came from. So WHAT if the weather seems to have gotten extremely intense and unpredictable and bizarre these last few years? Blame it on El Nino. Nobody really knows what El Nino is, anyway.

That's my truth-telling for today. More to come.

Something to Bore the Surveillers

2010-03-17T18:29:00.003-04:00

Sitting in Starbucks (ostensibly "working", i.e. writing, but quite honestly just goofing off a whole lot of the time) I am sometimes forced to listen to music when really maybe I would rather just hear the ambient sounds of Harvard denizens ordering coffee in their "I'm richer than you, peasant!" voices. I would love to have a T-Shirt line that just has messages like: "I paid $50 for this T Shirt, so obviously I am a member of the Corporate Elite, and You are NOT!".

Back to my point: being forced to listen to music not of my choosing has caused me to realize that there is some music I really despise, or at least intensely dislike, even though I somehow feel I "should" like it. Well, I just don't. It's shocking.

One person is Paul Simon. Honestly, his whining just really hurts my stomach. And whatever happened to Edie Brickell once she married him? Why did her talent just seem to disappear off the face of the earth?

Another is KD LANG (caps intentional). I really do NOT enjoy the timbre of her voice. There is something just so self-consciously full of herself in every ooh and aahhh. Even the way she spells her name strikes me as pretentious. Who does she think she is? e. e. cummings?

Another is Kate McGarrigle's son Rufus Wainwright. First of all, I have seen him interact with his Mom onstage, and he comes off as a real little bitch. Kate should just get out from behind her keyboards and slap him upside the head. Seriously. Second, no Rufus, you do not sing "Hallelujah" better than Leonard Cohen. Yes, I know he's from Canada. And so is k.d. I should support them. But in Rufus's case the nepotism really annoys me. I'm not so sure he deserves the special spot he has gotten in the music industry. Without Mom and Dad I am not so sure he would have gotten there.

Not to be anti-Canadian, let me also say that I really don't like Mariah Carey. At all (although I DO like her shenanigans and diva attitude). Her super-soprano riffs just don't impress me. The biggest problem is that I feel NOTHING when I hear her sing. On top of that, most of her songs are non-melodic and really dull. Come on! With all that money, couldn't she has least get a few good songwriters in her corner?

And, to be fair and not biased against women, I'm not that fond of Sting either. OK yes, I do like the song "Every Breath You Take" even if it strikes me as a super stalker song, and reminds me of one of my hopeless lovers, Herve from Montreal. Besides that, Sting is another person who just doesn't do much for me, even though he seems quite convinced of his own genius (and yes, I do appreciate some of the charity work he's done, but...).

[As a side note, I have remarked in my life that males seem much more easily convinced of their own genius even when this is so far from reality as to be a fairy tale. On the other hand, some really amazingly talented, smart women (like me!) might take a lot of convincing that they ARE very smart, talented women. Something to do with behavioral therapy imposed by society, teachers, the media etc. starting pretty much from birth.]

For me to love a musician, I need to feel touched by them somehow. Aretha Franklin made me cry when I saw her in person. George Thorogood made me feel like a motorcyle mama, hot blood coursing through my veins. Ella Fitzgerland made me fell blessed and cleansed to the core of my soul. Bruce Cockburn has stirred up a lot of rage in me at the cruelty that exists in this world. Al Green has reminded me what it feels like to be madly in love when I felt furthest removed from that wild sensation.

We need artists in this world, desperately, despite the attempt by scientists, war-mongers and pedlars of trivial crap to convince us otherwise. Let's support the REAL artists, and stop being afraid to call out the emperor or empress when in fact they are stark naked in their superficiality and sense of self-importance.

Just sayin'....

Sometimes Men Can Be Really Nice

2010-03-03T21:02:00.007-05:00

So just when I am feeling "God! Men are annoying!" with a passion I've rarely felt (hah! more like felt every day for most of my life..) a few men suddenly are nice to me.

(Just to clarify, in this case, "annoying" ranges from general daily annoyance at pervasive sexism to downright rage at boys who think it might be kinda neat to kill a bunch of Pakistani mountain dwellers with evil drones, and then simply go "oops" when it turns out these civilians had NOTHING to do with ANY threat to anyone, but were in fact a bunch of women and children at a birthday party.) But for now, back to the "nice" part.

A guy in the liquor store tells me I should DEFINITELY drink a little of the beer I bought to cook with, Duchesse De Bourgogne. I don't usually drink at all, but I decided to try the beer, while making my beer stew. Wow. Amazing. It doesn't even really taste like beer, but more like a fizzy drink with delicious herbs. So now if I ever DO feel like drinking a beer, I know what to buy. Thanks, liquor store guy.

A man at Starbucks warns me that if I drink strong tea, it will keep me from sleeping. Of course he's right, I stay up researching "researchers" i.e. surveillers. Did you know that the NSA sponsors programs at a BUNCH of different colleges to TRAIN people to spy on their fellow Americans. Truly, in the spirit of the First Amendment (and a few others), this is disgusting. What a horrible career. If the U.S. really wanted to make its citizens safer, it would take steps to become a less-hated entity in the world. For example, how about NOT invading any more sovereign nations to steal their oil, or other resources?

A male civil servant I speak to on the phone ends up being one of the MOST informed and kind people I have ever talked to, and this after having spoken first to two really awful, really MEAN women.

A manager at Shaw's market apologetically refunds my $1.72 after discovering that the tomatoes I bought were incorrectly priced in the system. I wasn't expecting that at all.

A high school friend sends me a wonderful diatribe I wrote at the age of 17. Maybe I will post it on my blog. Although times have changed. No one paid any attention to my teenage rantings, but I have a feeling a 2010 teen might get into a lot of trouble for similar expression in these paranoid, "got to control everything" times.

Two male musicians for whom I wrote a brief review both responded with really nice thank-yous, even though my review was sort of a back-handed compliment. I was actually complaining about the Musicians' Boys Club, and how LOOONNNNGGGG it seems to be taking to get bands integrated with women (think about doctors--not long ago they were all men, and now, more than 50% are female). But I do like these bands, even if they consist of the "Wall of Men" as I think of it. Good musicians, and fun to dance to. So, thank you for the thank yous.

It just made me think today. Some men DO want to give, share, nurture, be kind, show compassion. They just get overrun by the insane psycho bullies of the world, who only enjoy power trips and destruction. Time to speak up and tell the bullies to SHUT UP, sit down and take a deep breath. Time to change. Believe me, you bullies will feel better once you get through your own anxiety, sadness and grief. And so will the rest of us.

Rich Lawyers, Corporate Welfare, Chile and Other Huge Annoyances

2010-03-02T21:11:00.006-05:00

A few exasperated observations:

So, consumer spending is up in the U.S., but exactly WHO is doing the spending? Last I heard, it is the wealthy top 10% of the population, enjoying a spending spree of cheaper luxury items, as this country continues its march to full 3rd World Status.

Chile "looters": Once again, hungry people who are being denied relief (this time, in Chile) are being called "looters" when they desperately search for a way to feed their families. Get it straight, corporate media! It's NOT looting when you are starving, and NO relief is getting to you, despite millions of dollars of contributions. It's called survival. "Looting" is what the rich CEOs and Wall Street thieves do when they rip off the taxpayers to make sure they get their regular million dollar bonuses.

Unemployment extensions: So, Senator Bunning was entirely to blame for holding up an extension of unemployment benefits? I don't think so. Don't get me wrong. Of course, he is another privileged prick who doesn't give a damn about the working class heroes who are now suffering. HOWEVER, a unanimous vote of agreement is NOT necessary to get legislation passed in Congress. Just takes a little planning--the kind achieved whenever the rich lawyers who run our country want to get another welfare hand-out to some rich corporate or banker dude, one of their buddies. And this kind of planning involves something like ten days previous knowledge. Well, senators have known for several MONTHS now that benefits would run out at the end of February if they didn't act. So what kind of game are they really playing?

[Update: Just heard the extension passed. I believe it is only for 30 days, and includes highway funding, DISH satellite clause, etc. Bunning and others blame the expense of any unemployment extension bill on the unemployed. But take a look at what's included in this bill. It's amazing, if only a typical piece of legislation, I'd say.
http://weblogs.sun-sentinel.com/news/politics/dcblog/2010/03/senate_takes_up_unemployment_b.html]

Lying Leaders: It would be NICE, if for ONCE, these rich lawyers would let us know what they are really doing. For example, when Bush and Cheney wanted to bomb Baghdad to smithereens in 2003, they might simply have said, "You know what, we just want the oil, and a nice big military base in Iraq. We don't give a damn about Saddam Hussein. And we're going to do it whether any of the American public agrees with this or not."

At least then the public would have a better idea of where the average Joe and Josephine stand. Which is nowhere. What we think really doesn't matter much. And if Congress doesn't amend the constitution pretty damn fast, to head off an even greater corporate infusion of money into elections (thanks to our "unbiased" Supreme Court), we will matter even less. If that's possible.

Three Good Local Boy Bands for Dancing Your Socks Off

2010-02-24T21:10:00.008-05:00

So I am going to recommend three good local "Boy Bands", and I am referring to these bands as "Boy Bands" in a futuristic sense. About ten or fifteen or twenty years from now (Good Goddess, will it really take that much longer?) most bands will be fully integrated with women instrumentalists ("Wow, SHE'S a kick-ass guitarist" will be commonly heard) as well as vocalists, and people of all stripes, colors, ages and ethnicities. At that point, a band made up only of men will be an anomaly, and thus called a "Boy Band" as we do now with those very rare "Girl Bands" in existence.

For fun and dancing and virtuoso musicianship when you can catch them, local super group Giant Kings plays Lizard Lounge in Cambridge and other venues. Next chance is Lizard Lounge on St. Paddy's Wednesday and the two Wednesdays following. Really excellent musicians, R&B/Soul covers of tunes previously covered by the likes of the Fabulous Thunderbirds, Wilson Pickett, Elvis Costello, Dr. John and even Frank Sinatra. Tight rhythm section, virtuosity throughout--look especially for Duke Levine's grittier guitar solos and Kevin Barry's slide guitar. And personally, I love the Baritone and Tenor sax riffs. Not to mention Chris Cote's soulful vox and reeeelaxed hosting. Just got to dance!
http://www.lizardloungeclub.com/main.html
To get on a notification email list, contact guitarist/band leader Duke Levine through MySpace. http://www.myspace.com/dukelevine

Thursday nights at the Cantab Lounge in Cambridge, catch another boy band, the Chicken Slacks, with horns, keys and a really great lead singer, Durand "Diamond D" Wilkerson. Be prepared to be squashed by the mostly young college kids, and don't let them knock you right into one of the band's monitors, as almost happened to me one night. This is a very popular weekly Cambridge event. But the set list is great for dancing, and hey, maybe a little squashing is good for your health. Old school soul and R&B, mostly up-tempo, perfect for lifting your spirits on a dreary March evening, or when some girl or guy has really let you down (worked for me, anyway!) http://www.cantab-lounge.com/index.html
Here is their myspace page: http://www.myspace.com/chickenslacks

For outdoor fun during warmer weather, check out The Peasants in Harvard Square. This is Pete Cassani's baby, and he is the writer of some really great tunes, including my favorite, Frat Boy. Listen to the lyrics carefully. They are hilarious, and pretty damned accurate. In The Peasants, lead guitarist Pete always plays with a bass player/back-up vocalist (these days Dave Lieb) and a drummer (varies). Aside from the originals, which range from angry break-up songs to astute (and funny, as in, "you might as well laugh or you'll cry") social commentary, The Peasants do covers of Beatles tunes, Jimi Hendrix, all kinds of great classic rock. And Pete is truly a virtuoso guitarist. I've personally witnessed more than one dazzled would-be rocker asking, "Do you give lessons?". (Yes, he does) Schedule varies, but usually you will find them at The Pit near the Harvard Square T exit on a Friday or Saturday evening, playing always no louder than 80 decibels (Cambridge Arts Council rules...). Occasionally other gigs elsewhere. You can check schedule at http://www.thepeasants.net and from there contact Pete to get on an email list for reminders.

So you see? I'm a feminist, plenty of justified anger at the males of this world (including some men who, like Margaret Thatcher, for some reason LOOK like women). But I can still appreciate good music. Especially when it makes me dance.

Let's Torture the Unemployed some MORE!!! It's SOOOO FUN!!!

2010-02-22T19:29:00.003-05:00

Once again, the rich lawyers who run things (i.e. our "elected" representatives) are dragging their feet to extend unemployment benefits, which average $300 per week per person. Why?

At least ONE MILLION people will lose benefits at the end of February if nothing is done immediately. Another FOUR MILLION will lose all benefits in the months to follow. Harry Reid is talking about a TWO-WEEK extension (to March 15) to give these rich lawyers more time to wrangle, to fight about throwing in some obscure provision for a bridge in Alaska (or some other "pork" or obscure regulation) as a concession to extending benefits until the end of May (although there is no indication any miraculous recovery will occur at that point, and many economists have called for extension through 2010).

The end result of these delays is that the mental and physical health of the unemployed suffers, which is possibly GOOD NEWS for the insurance companies. They can make money out of this crisis, especially from the sick unemployed with COBRA benefits still intact.

Who cares if more people become homeless, or another child goes hungry, or Dad goes on a drunken tear or Mom pops an extra anti-depressant?

The unemployed should really be re-labeled "The Unimportant" or "The Insignificant". The way at least FIVE MILLION Americans and their families have been treated for at least the past six months indicates that re-labeling is long overdue.

Sure, our elected lawyers can find time to agree on pay-outs for rich bankers and Wall-Street execs. Hey, those guys NEED their million-dollar bonuses!!! But somehow finding time to make sure a huge portion of the American public makes it through these trying times (brought on, by the way, by unregulated criminals, i.e. the aforementioned bankers and execs)--well that is just too darn tedious.

And besides all that, let's face it, it's kinda fun to torture people. Almost like some cheap reality show. Except that this IS REAL.

Giant Kings, Ass-Pinching and Feeling Sexy and ALIVE! (take THAT, Pilgrims!)

2010-02-22T00:45:00.000-05:00

Monday, February 22, 2010
Giant Kings, Ass-Pinching and Feeling Sexy and ALIVE! (take THAT, Pilgrims!)
Note to surveillers: Almost no "revolutionary" content here, so you can move on to your next "client", unless you wanna read about me getting my ass pinched while watching the Giant Kings play in Cambridge...

So, ladies, it seems if you are in need of having your ass pinched or fondled, do NOT miss the next Giant Kings gigs at Lizard Lounge in Cambridge (St. Paddy's Day, and the 2 Wednesdays following). My own derriere received such special attention Wednesday night, and again at their show in October 2009.

I don't know WHAT it is, but this band seems to bring out some wild earthy energy in the attendees. OK, yes, I'll admit it. I do have a pretty amazing ass. But the Boston area is not Milan or even Montreal. In fact, this area is so uptight and priggish, the spirit of those back-stabblng murderous Early Settlers pervades the very air (yes, white folk DID wipe out the native population--this was a HEAVILY populated area long before Europeans showed up here with their guns and yellow fever and smallpox blankets and lying cheating ways…oops, surveillers, I guess I'll just never get away from that pesky social commentary that runs through my brain. Google "King Philip's War" as a start if you want to get more familiar with the back-stabbing murderous ways of the first settlers here).

Where was I? Oh yes, the murderous lying priggish Pilgrims. Well, somehow I am convinced their grimacing faces still haunt Boston. How else to explain the extreme obsession with rules and the unrelenting uptight priggishness of this place?

So, ladies, (and gents) if you desperately need a break from Boston's censuring vibe, and crave some earthy vital energy flowing through your veins for a couple hours, go see the Giant Kings at Lizard Lounge in Cambridge, March 17, 24 and 31. http://www.lizardloungeclub.com/main.html

Aside from the ass-pinching energy they somehow magically create, these guys are just amazing, top-level musicians. And I am a pissed-off feminist, studied music with men who really resented my intrusion into their "territory" so if I say they are great, believe me, they are. I can even experience their greatness through the filter of my own anger at old and recent male condescension and one guy who stole my riff for his solo. That says something.

The music is old school Soul/R&B/Country/Roadhouse. Covers of tunes previously covered by artists such as Wilson Pickett, Fabulous Thunderbirds, Elvis Costello, Nick Lowe, Bobby Womack. The set list is FANTASTIC!!!! A good mix of upbeat, foot shuffling tunes, and edgy lost-love laments. A really tight rhythm section, fab sax section, soulful belted vox. I love Duke Levine's lead guitar, especially when he grunges out into a dirtier sound--whiz kid meets growl. It's a great combo. And Kevin Barry is a truly gifted slide guitar player.

For those who love sax but never get to hear it (I'm one of them), Giant Kings features Baritone (my personal fave) AND Tenor Sax--Mark Earley and Paul Ahlstrand, respectively. Oh, the heck with it, all the players are amazing. Chris Cote, vocals (and vox trombone!), band leader and guitarist Duke Levine, upright and electric bass player Marty Ballou, drummer Andy Plaisted and Kevin Barry, slide guitar player (who is occasionally replaced by some really great pianist or another). One local reviewer referred to this configuration as a local "super-group" and I'd say that about sums it up.

My only suggestion for improvement would be that perhaps the next time Kevin is not available, some amazing local FEMALE honkey tonk pianist be invited to sit in. Yep. Six Kings and One Queen. Sounds good to me.

What else? Oh yes, that set list. Here is a selection from last Wednesday night: Trail of Tears (Nick Lowe), Such a Night (Dr. John), Go West (Geraint Watkins), I Found a Love (Wilson Pickett), River Stay 'Way From My Door (Frank Sinatra and Others), Pouring Water on a Drowning Man (Elvis Costello, others), We're Gonna Make It (Little Milton, others).

So you can see why I am happy to dance (yes they will make you want to MOVE your body), eavesdrop on the comments of female admirers of Chris Cote ("Oh, he's so CUTE! I just LOVE him." Sorry girls, he's engaged!), and wait for the next guy to pinch my ass. And I won't even smack him for it. Or maybe I will. A nice bar brawl would surely add to the wild earthy energy. But, smack the ass-pincher or not, I'll still thank the music muses that inspire the Giant Kings to infuse that cold Cambridge air with a little lustful misbehavior for a few hours. I walked into Lizard Lounge in a sulk and walked out feeling sexy, alive and really full of myself. Couldn't ask for more (other than a female band member or two…).

Catch them for a reasonable cover charge ($7-$10) while you can. I figure sooner rather than later they will record an original tune, which will of course be a hit, and then you'll be paying a LOT more to see them in a much less intimate venue.

Note: to get on an email list for notification of future gigs, you can contact Duke Levine via MySpace. Also you can check out a few videos on YouTube. But best is to get the vibe LIVE. Absolutely no substitute.

Things I Hate (and Sometimes I Hate Just About Everything!)

2010-02-20T17:04:00.006-05:00

I hate rich people breezily chatting about someone's post in Dubai, and then remarking that "it's a good job, but the economy there is just not as great as it once was". Lah dee dah.

I hate rich Harvard guys complaining about yet a third wedding in the Vineyard, yet ANOTHER private plane to catch, then hopping into a red convertible Porsche with a freshly cleaned Gucci suit slung over the shoulder.

I hate the creepy guy in Harvard square who does so-called puppetry whilst making strange comments in his husky unpleasant voice. Too much acid, dude, back in the day...waayyy too much. Shoulda stayed away from the Brown Dot. I'm sure everyone warned you, and you just didn't listen.

(OK yes maybe "hate" is a strong word--so this is hate in the sense of so extremely annoyed that I feel like screaming. Not hate in the way I hate the folks "in charge" who left poor old women in New Orleans to die in the streets after they intentionally destructed 9th Ward Levies during Hurricane Katrina, which was only a Category 3 storm when it hit the city, by the way.)

I hate male musicians who, without knowing a single thing about me, condescendingly chuckle when I say I might like to buy a Zoom digital recorder, informing me "That's probably out of your price range." Then I check Amazon and find it for $300, not bad. So what was really meant was "Don't fool yourself. You're a female. You just don't have those creative music genes." (i.e. penis) OK, maybe he didn't mean it quite this way, but that IS the way I heard it, and I HAVE heard derision and chuckles so many times in my life.

Chuckles and condescension from penis-people re: my screenplays, paintings, drawings, op-eds, fiction, videos, photography, musical compositions and arrangements, vocal performances, acting, poetry. EVEN my approach to participating in protests. Even during a critical mass Bike Ride.

I was calling out to folks on Newbury Street "Get out of your car, and ride your bike! It's GOOD for you, GOOD for the environment". A nasty pricky penis person rode up to me and told me to shut up. Apparently only the males in the ride were allowed to verbalize. It was then that I noticed that the other women riding were demurely silent. I ended up telling the guy to go phoque himself (a phoque is a seal, in French) at the end of the ride. But he had temporary achieved his aim--I was shocked into (temporary) silence. Useless A-hole!

Once I got into a huge fight with a guy I had been dating. It was in a bar in Montreal. He had just breezily informed me that he was there to meet another woman, not me. Big mistake. His snotty entitled cruel words and attitude resulted in me ripping his shirt and biting his hand while his friends tried, without success, to pull me off the guy. The bouncer finally came over and threatened to call the cops. I figured I had made my point and left.

I went out to the corner and called my friend Stacy, a social worker. I could feel heat and energy coursing through my whole body. It felt GREAT, but already the "not being demure and invisible" guilt was setting in. But Stacy would have none of that. She thought what I had done was GREAT!

"Imagine what would it would be like if EVERY woman who was fed up with the behavior of some guy or another had a screaming fit simultaneously," she said. "Every single street corner would be filled with screaming women, tearing shirts and biting hands and having bloody fits. It would be fantastic!"

I loved Stacy, a true friend. Haven't seen her in some time and I still love her.

But in Harvard Square, with one cop for every third person, protecting the spawn of the corporate elite, and cameras every 20 feet, the best I have done is intentionally smash into a group of frat boys who refused to give me some space on the sidewalk, and chastise a couple of drunk college brats who were mean to a homeless guy. No torn shirts, no bitten hands.

Maybe it's time to become a metal musician. Then I can scream my head off (as long as it's no more than 80 decibels in Harvard Square) and get away with it. I can also sing tunes like "Land of the Bland, Home of the Cloned" one of my originals. And maybe, just maybe, someone will finally recognize me for the genius I am. Or maybe not. No penis, no genius. Is that how it goes? Well I could always wear a "costume" if you know what I mean.

PS A couple months after the bar fight, I ran into Mr. Bitten Hand at a Salsa Club. He grinned ear to ear and asked me to dance. I didn't hate him anymore so I accepted. His friends looked on in shock as we danced a really WILD, really FUN Salsa. I guess some guys enjoy red-headed women with bad tempers. Thank goddess for that.

Wake Up Get Up Get Up and Fight!

2010-02-17T18:01:00.003-05:00

Dontcha just wanna sometimes lay in your bed and never get out, except maybe to grab some chips and have a pee?

I feel like that quite often. So much crapola in this world, liars and criminals of the worst kind running things. So much stuff to fight to change. Really pretty exhausting.

I have a feeling the right wing idiots of the world, who have clearly stepped over the brink into the abyss of psychosis, maybe have it easier? They might never feel happy, truly, but probably sleep OK--just grab that little pill and maybe a shot of whiskey and everything is A.O.K. For now, anyway. I don't really believe in hell, but I do believe there is some other reality beyond this one. I'd really HATE to see what befalls a hard-core heartless criminal, who lies and bemoans "the little guy" while making every decision on behalf of the corporations that are killing this earth. Don't even want to imagine it.

Haiti: Don't STOP the Search and Rescue! People still being found ALIVE

2010-01-27T21:31:00.003-05:00

Why did the "Haitian Government", AKA U.S. Government telling them what to say, call off the Search and Rescue efforts in Haiti when people are STILL being found alive.

Thank goddess for the French, who have continued searching, despite the American directive, and just today pulled a 17 year old old from the rubble.
http://www.npr.org/templates/story/story.php?storyId=123043410&ft=1&f=1001

Oh no, just saw that Howard Zinn has died, at age 87, of a heart attack. Oh that is really awful.

Well, in his honor, as a person of huge heart and intelligence, let's try treating the Haitian people and ALL people, and ALL life on this planet, as though it is IMPORTANT and ESSENTIAL.

As I have repeatedly said, if this "earthquake" or whatever it was, had occurred in Malibu, you can BET the search times would have rescued FAR MORE than 135 people and would STILL be on the job.

It really sickens me to see bulldozers rolling over "rubble", knowing that survivors may still be IN that rubble, praying that someone will hear their faint cries and save their lives.

COME ON U.S.!!! Tell the Haitian government to declare that searches WILL continue as long as people are being found alive. You can do it!

Haiti Earthquake: Deliberately Triggered? Or Just a Convenient Opportunity?

2010-01-24T18:52:00.006-05:00

A few questions regarding the Haiti Earthquake. There are SO MANY, I hardly know where to begin.

[As a disclaimer, yes I (along with many other people) am beginning to think this was a deliberately triggered "natural disaster". For anyone immediately thinking "Conspiracy Theorist", remember, it's not a THEORY if it is real. And this catch phrase is thrown around a LOT when the corporate media wishes to confuse people. One recent example of a "conspiracy THEORY" that proved to be NOT theoretical at all was the WMD lie that Bush, Cheney et al dispensed via the media to garner support for an invasion of Iraq.]

Many people are now wondering if the Haitian earthquake was intentionally or accidentally triggered by the United States. This IS possible. It is also possible (despite a lot of strange information pointing to something intentional) that this was truly a "natural disaster" and the U.S. and other countries are simply doing what they do best: making the most MONEY and POWER from a horrible disaster, at the expense of desperately poor people.

So, here are just a FEW of the questions I have come across. WHY was President Preval (the US-selected president, once the CIA forced Aristide out of office in 2004) conveniently NOT at work at the official palace, during a normal weekday/work day, at 4:53 p.m. on Tuesday, January 12, 2010? Did he go home early? Did he not even work that day?

Haitian friends in communication with family IN Haiti say many Haitians are already wondering if this was truly a "natural" disaster. They have heard reports that "the water did not change", meaning no major change in tides or ocean overflows at the time of the earthquake. Isn't this a bit odd, to say the least?

Why was there a dramatic increase in HAARP activity (Google HAARP for info re this "natural disaster" weapon) in the few days just prior to this earthquake? HAARP is not science fiction but reality. European Union members have demanded answers from the U.S. but gotten nowhere. HAARP Induction Magnetometer for January 12, 2010:
http://maestro.haarp.alaska.edu/cgi-bin/scmag/disp-scmag.cgi?date=20100112&Bx=on

Why was there an extremely bright light in the sky the night before the earthquake in Haiti? http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=f0RzX3uqAls I personally do not believe this is a UFO but a military-related object. Ask the pentagon! Maybe they can explain. Ha!

Why have Russian North Fleet submarines patrolling the area reported this as an intentionally triggered earthquake (sorry I cannot yet find follow-up on this report--if anyone can, please leave a comment)?
http://beforeitsnews.com/story/11904/US_Quake_Test_Goes_Horribly_Wrong_,_Leaves_500,000_Dead_In_Haiti.html

Hugo Chavez and other Latin American leaders have called for a full-scale investigation.
http://www.digitaljournal.com/article/286145

Is it just a coincidence that possibly vast quantities of oil have been discovered in Haiti recently? http://blacklistednews.com/news-7136-0-5-5--.html

Is it just a coincidence that Haitian elections were to take place Feb. 28th?

Why did the US, which immediately took control of the Airport, refuse to allow planes carrying food and medical supplies, to land, while US military planes were allowed full clearance? Why have 16,000 troops been stationed in Haiti almost overnight?

Doctors Without Borders and many other wonderful organizations have LOUDLY complained about their planes being turned away, and the resulting loss of life. But, not surprisingly, this has received little media attention.

Why did it take the US Navy hospital ship Comfort EIGHT days to travel from Baltimore, MD to Port Au Prince? Port Au Prince is only 700 miles from Miami, after all.

Why has it been SO difficult to get food and water delivered to people who will now die of hunger and thirst? I just don't buy it that it is difficult for the US, with all its military and many resources and allies, to organize a food/water/medical relief program quickly. I have said in previous posts, had this been an earthquake in the Hamptons or Malibu, all necessary relief would have been organized within HOURS, not WEEKS.

Journalists were shown wandering around Port Au Prince for days, sobbing in despair, asking "Where are the relief teams?" Meanwhile the U.S. WAS able to amass its military presence in this poor nation.

Why, with all the many search and rescue teams from all over the world, were ONLY 132 Haitians rescued from the rubble? Why has this effort now been called off, and bulldozers instead brought in to "clear the rubble" when people are still being found alive? And why did it take SO LONG for this effort to get underway? Is there any chance the U.S. WANTED to maximize "collateral damage"? After all, these desperately poor feisty Haitians have long caused problems for the U.S., what with their rebellious attitude towards being total slaves and accepting poverty and starvation and all.

If you have questions of your own, please feel free to post in the comments here.

The corporate government of this world needs a sudden change in consciousness, some kind of miracle. We should not be even be burning oil at ALL any more, let along invading nations for it. We should have LONG AGO moved past this greed and blood-thirsty power model of thought. There IS another way to live. It is time for ALL of us to WAKE UP.

Taking Bread When You Are Starving is NOT Looting!

2010-01-20T20:27:00.004-05:00

The news media REALLY needs to rethink the language it is using to describe starving people in Haiti breaking into grocery stores to take food. This is NOT looting!!! This is simply survival. And if Haitians are seen taking goods and not food, figure it out. There is NO MONEY to buy food, but a radio can be traded for some rice.

Perhaps it would behoove the corporate news media to examine WHY it has taken SO LONG for food to get to people in Haiti, when there are so many countries contributing? The US now controls the Haitian airport, and many relief planes have been turned away, forced to land in Santo Domingo and bring supplies overland, resulting in more deaths due to delays. And no organized distribution system has been set up, meaning that only a fraction of the population needing food and water has actually received it. WHAAAT? The US, with all its troops, bulldozers, tanks, trucks, computer resources, and allies, cannot manage to set up a proper distribution system, eight days into this tragedy?

I repeat, if this had happened in the Hamptons or Malibu, all necessary aid, including a perfectly organized distribution system, would have been on the ground in half a day. But this is Haiti, populated with poor, rebellious people, who have long resisted US attempts to completely enslave and control the population, so of course this will take time, LOTS of time...all the time necessary to achieve maximum "collateral damage".

WHY is the US refusing to allow medical supplies into the country, so that Doctors Without Borders are forced to purchase a saw from a market in order to amputate a crushed limb from a patient, and with NO morphine? The excuse is "a bottle neck at the airport", but DWB has stated that even when runways have been clear, the US has turned away medical supplies. Yet US military planes, with troops and tanks, are given clearance. Interesting priority. No wonder Latin American leaders are talking about a US takeover in Haiti.

If you can bear to read this, here is a reasonably good article about people dying due to lack of medical supplies: http://news.yahoo.com/s/ap/cb_haiti_fighting_for_lives

More questions: WHY has the US managed to ship 11,500 troops (16,000 expected by this weekend) to the area so quickly, but the floating US Navy Hospital JUST arrived, 8 days after the quake? All of these troops are surely being fed, and offered medical care, but dying Haitians cannot even get a bottle of water, a sandwich, or a splint for a broken leg?

WHY, with all the "rescue teams" on site, have only 121 people (from one account) been rescued from rubble by these teams, while local Haitians, with NO tools at ALL, have rescued countless victims?

Haitians don't trust the US, and with good reason. The US has ousted democratically elected leaders in this country. This US aid mission has already been called a "Rescue/Invasion".

For some background on the bloody US history with Haiti, here is a really good, succinct account from Common Dreams' Ted Rail, "Haitian Earthquake: Made in the USA":
http://www.commondreams.org/view/2010/01/14-13

Read Britain's The Guardian, and other online sources for better information than that coming from government-sanctioned "news sources" in the US. Time to wake up.

Haiti Suffers While US Power-Mongers Play Games

2010-01-17T22:15:00.001-05:00

Went riding my bike in the rain this evening, and it felt SO good. Fresh air, cold rain on my face, moving through the cold wind.

I feel so ANGRY and sad and upset about what the United States is doing in Haiti. Many countries have complained that they have tried to land with relief supplies (including medicine and food) at the Port au Prince airport and the US has refused them entry.

The US controls the Haitian airport now. WHAT IS GOING ON???? The excuse of the US is that the airport is bottle-necked. Give me a break. As I have said in the past, when the United States WANTS to be organized, it is VERY GOOD at that. For example: organizing PR campaigns via the media to disseminate lies in order to invade a country for oil and power strategems (i.e. Iraq and Afghanistan)--EXCELLENT work, boys!

Organizing to bomb an ancient city to smithereens (Baghdad). Fantastic.

But try to save the lives of desperately poor people, pleading for help while children die in their mothers' arms, from relatively simple, treatable injuries (broken bones, open wounds)? Wow, that is just TOO complicated, it seems.

Doctors Without Borders have been very blunt in expressing their disgust. An inflatable hospital was airlifted to Haiti, but the US refused to allow the plane to land at the airport. Instead, planes with medical supplies and food have been forced to land in Santo Domingo and travel overland, which means time wasted and many more lives lost. (I will write more about this in the coming days, but PLEASE do your own research on the web--check European news sources. They will often be more reliable than the US. And READ BETWEEN THE LINES.)

OK, I am going to be BLUNT. I believe, as I did with Katrina, that there are those among the "powers that be" that actually WANT a large percentage of the Haitian population to die. For one thing, the rebellious nature of the Haitian people (including the audacity to want a democratically elected government of their own choosing as opposed to one that is US-chosen), is problematic for the US corporate government.

Essentially, the view of the bullies who still run things in America is that, in order to get the "most" out of any country, the US needs to be IN CONTROL. The very idea of negotiating fairly is anathema to these guys.

Do you know what this is? Psychopathic bullying and GREED. Plain and simple.

I really look forward to the day when we have 12-step programs for such bloodthirsty power-mongers. "Hi, my name is John." "Hi John." "I'm a psychopathic greedy power-monger." (everyone in the room nods) "But I haven't exploited any poor people for the past 90 days." (everyone claps) "It's been difficult, but I keep working my program, and I really want to thank my sponsor, Hugo." Hugo Chavez smiles broadly from the corner. And the world breathes a sigh of relief.

Well, I can dream, can't I?

Why is Relief to Haiti taking SO LONG????

2010-01-15T22:50:00.003-05:00

Why is it taking so LONG for help to get to Haiti? Blah blah blah from the leaders of the various world powers, while people DIE under rubble when they could have been saved. Just another Katrina. My theory is that the rich countries actually WANT these poor people to die--especially in a country like Haiti, with a rich history of revolution against horrible dictators.

Believe me, if this earthquake had happened in the Hamptons, or Malibu, or some wealthy enclave such as Monaco, search teams, giant medical ships, bullldozers and all necessary equipment and personnel would be in the area and on the ground within half a day.

OR, if this was a country the US wanted to invade, exactly how long do you think THAT would take?

And then, of course, there is the whole issue of class. The wealthy nations, and wealthy leaders NEED worker-bees, people in desperate situations, ready to be exploited for sweatshops. And if they have no use, even for the worst possible employment, then they don't really need to BE at ALL, do they? Time for change, time for a massive, overnight sudden change of consciousness. NOW.

Something Really Funny and Nice Happened Tonight

2010-01-13T01:00:00.001-05:00

So there I was, riding my bike through Porter Square, bundled up, freezing to death, trudging along, the bitter wind pushing against me. Suddenly I felt a very gentle arm around my waist, behind my back, and I turned to see that a cute male cyclist was riding along right next to me.

I laughed, and said, "WHAT are you DOING?"

He said, "I'm giving you a push."

I said, "Why?" and "Thanks!" at the same time. We both laughed.

I guess he could tell my legs were slowly freezing into a solid block of ice. And decided to give me a hand.

How weird, for Boston/Cambridge. For someone to be just NICE. Must be something to do with the moon. Or the mess at NBC late night! Or the economy? Or the extra-terrestrials have finally gotten their world-wide mind-evolution program fully underway at long last?

So then I went to Shaw's/Star market and bought a lottery scratch ticket for $2 and won $5!

Yay!!! Sometimes it helps to be happy for small miracles.

I still cannot believe someone in Cambridge was nice enough to give me a hand without me even asking for it. Wow. (OK, it has happened before, but not NEARLY often enough!) Thank you universe, and nice guy on the bike. I needed that!

Montreal is Full of Pervs

2010-01-07T19:36:00.007-05:00

Montreal is a perv place, REALLY!!!

I lived in Montreal for 15 years, and I swear I ran into more pervs in that place than anywhere else.

My last blog was about a would-be roommate, who declared his fondness for parading around stark-naked. YUCK!!! Believe me, this guy was NO Adonis! And I had said NOTHING to inspire such a comment. OK, he was NOT from Montreal, but Pennsylvania via Arizona and Florida (yes, it only occurred to me AFTER I hustled him out of my apartment to wonder what all THAT was about).

However, I posted my blog with a label including "nudists" just for the heck of it. And sure enough, the FIRST person doing a "nudists" search was from Montreal.

OK, maybe being a nudist in itself is not a big deal. Perhaps nudists need to develop nude-dar, like gay men have gay-dar?

But here is a small sampling of the insanity I experienced in Montreal:

A guy careening down the street, middle of a busy day, driving his bashed up car while bashing himself up with the other hand at the same time. I am NOT kidding!!!

A guy walking down the street in Joncquière, Quebec (OK not Montreal, but still Quebec), at about 11 p.m., wearing a tee shirt and sheer pantyhose and nothing else, i.e. NO underwear. And there was me, not wearing my glasses, because we were heading out to the clubs, so I couldn't really make out what the heck kind of outfit he was wearing until he was about 10 feet away. At that point I only had time to yell to my friend, who was absorbed in a story she was recounting. He grabbed her breast and then knocked her down. I screamed my head off and he ran away. And get this, we ran into him AGAIN, a couple weeks later. This time he tried to grab me, but I saw it coming and knocked his arm away from me, again screaming at him. Jesus!

A man who approached a friend of mine, while she was taking a nice walk on Mount Royal, on the main WIDE road in the middle of a warm sunny day. The man was quickly undoing his belt and yanking his pants down as he approached. My friend panicked, looking around for an escape. As if by some miracle, an older man rounded the curve of the path ahead. My friend ran up and asked if he would walk her back down the path. He was very kind, and agreed. The perv ran off, realizing that whatever he had in mind would not be easily achieved that particular day.

I was sitting with a friend on our front stairs one warm summer evening, around 1 a.m. We had been out dancing at Izaza, the local dive bar, and were chatting about the various shenanigans of Izaza clientele (always exciting, I assure you). A man with a cap meandered down the street. He glanced up at us and kept walking. We kept talking. A few minutes later, the man returned, and this time, he made a direct bee-line for the stairway, unzipping his pants as he ran towards us. We ran in the house and got my friend's husband. As Pierre pulled on his robe, I ran to the balcony door to see where the man might be. I looked through the glass, and Jesus again! He was RIGHT THERE!!! He had the situation "in hand" and was madly heading to mayday when Pierre arrived. The guy zipped up his pants and ran away. Fortunately, we never saw him again.

I really cannot COUNT the number of times I encountered "whoops" experiences on the bus and metro but it was almost a daily occurrence. I finally got the gumption to just yell out, "Would you PLEASE remove your GROIN from my shoulder?!!??" That usually worked.

Oh there are many many other stories, but you get the idea. Montreal is a really FUN place to party, to experience a little joie de vivre, to eat GREAT food, listen to some good music, practice your French, but WATCH OUT for the pervs!

(Oh, and in case you are thinking, "Well just call the cops"--uh, maybe not. I finally DID report one incident to the police. But all the cop wanted was the sleazy details over and over again, and over and over again...You get the idea. Yet another perv!)

Nudists, Weirdos, and Psycho Would-Be Roommates, STAY AWAY!!!

2010-01-03T20:47:00.000-05:00

So there I am, interviewing yet another potential roommate. I am thinking, "Well this is going OK...we both enjoy conspiracy theories, think the Corporate Government is essentially evil, find some ironies of injustice just plain hilarious..." but something felt off.

I couldn't put my finger on it. Sure, he was maybe more into the paranoia thing that I am (I don't believe total control freaks will ever "win" because that is completely contrary to the essence of unpredictable, creative, wild LIFE) but there was something else.

Finally, thanks SO MUCH to the protective forces in the universe, the guy blurts out, "You know I sleep in the nude."

I grimaced and said, "What?!?" I mean, I don't care one way or the other HOW my roommates sleep--I just don't need to hear the details.

He gestured to the roommate room, which is right next to the bathroom.

"So I would probably pop out of my room in the morning to use the bathroom, nude."

I shook my head. "Uh, no. You wouldn't. You would need to put on a robe first. I am really NOT interested in seeing my roommate's naked body, thanks."

He looked disappointed. For foch's SAKE!!! Do I LOOK like a perv nudist type, seeking men I've never met on the internet to wander around my apartment naked? I don't THINK SO...and if you DO, shut up! You're wrong.

Yuck Yuck Yuck Yuck. I'm glad he finally helped me put my finger on what was really wrong. He's a NUTCASE. But still, yuck yuck yuck yuck. I need a shower, NOW.

Bad Boys I Have Known and Loved and Hated, Installment Number 1

2010-01-02T20:15:00.000-05:00

I have decided to work on a "series" about various bad boys (and some girls) I have known in my life. This will be a sporadic series, but always exciting, I'm sure! Look for it!

Some of these boys (or girls) really were bad as in horrible, nasty human beings. Others may have been bad in the really delicious sense of the word.

But I will start with one who was really bad as in horrible, even at the tender age of SIX!!!

OK, I was in grade one or two, in Arlington, Texas. I had a crush on a really cute older guy, Jack, who was seven and one grade ahead of me. His brother, Tim, who was in my class, knew I preferred his sibling. But Tim had a crush on ME, and as boys are wont to do, this pissed him the hell off. So Tim was always trying to make me cry. I don't get the logic in that, but I have noticed that even adult bad boys have tended to behave the same way. When somehow I am not doing just what they want, they seem to want to make me cry. What the hell is that all about? Maybe some adult bad boy out there can explain that to me some day.

Anyway, I was a pretty tough-minded little girl. Tim would punch me in the arm. I would just hit him back. He would call me names. I would chant, "Sticks and stones, blah blah" and Tim would turn red with rage. Sometimes he would laugh at me, but I would just laugh harder. As I say, I really did NOT understand WTF was going on with Tim, but I DID understand that he was trying to hurt me. It wasn't until many years later that I realized Tim knew I preferred his older brother, and in his innate boyness, could not find any other way to deal with that reality than to try to hurt me.

So one day, Tim finally realized he was never really going to make me cry. But MAYBE he COULD make my eyes water. When the teacher was writing on the chalkboard, Tim, who sat in the seat just ahead of me, turned and smacked me RIGHT in the eyes. A real sucker-punch. I didn't even see it coming.

Well, hell yes, that worked. My eyes watered--a natural physical reaction. But I wasn't sad, I was now mad as a snake.

Someone recently pointed out to me that I may have been devious, even as a child. I never thought that was true, until I recalled this story with Tim.

When Tim saw my eyes water and tears well up, he shouted with GLEE!!! He had WON! He had made me CRY, even if it wasn't real crying, but my eyes reacting to being hit. He whooped and hollered and jumped up and down. I sat still as a stone, fury flooding every cell in my body. I seethed, I hated Tim, and I plotted.

A few days later I invited Tim over to my house for a visit.

The visit started innocently enough--and I still have a hard time believing I planned what occurred, but you know, maybe I did. I think maybe I just did.

Tim and I played a game of "jacks", rode bikes, drank some cherry Kool-Aid. Then we lazed around on the back porch. Feeling confident and full of himself, Tim casually mentioned his "victory" over me. "Hah hah! I made you cry, didn't I?" He was taunting me. I looked through the window into the kitchen. My mother was busy at the stove. She had the radio tuned to the local station, the volume up high. I looked at Tim's snarling laughing lip, and glanced one more time at my mother. She had her back to us. The coast was clear. I knew just what I had to do.

I jumped up and grabbed the broom I had left leaning against the side of the house just that morning. Tim looked up in shock. I screamed like a wild banshee and started chasing him around the porch. WHACK!!! I hit him once, hard, with the straws of the broom. Tim cried out in pain. He tried to run away from me, but I ran faster. WHACK!!! I hit him again. Now Tim started to shed a few real tears. Finally I was whacking and screaming, right behind him, as Tim stumbled and cried, "Stop, stop!" My mother came out to see what all the ruckus was about.

I got sent to my room and Tim got sent home. Once I calmed down, I was pretty damned pleased with myself.

I STILL find it hard to believe I PLANNED such a sophisticated revenge at the age of SIX, but I always have been pretty much of a genius.

Suffice it to say, Tim changed seats the following Monday in school. He sat right up front near the teacher. And he never bothered me again.

I tell you what. I WISH I had taken this approach with some of the other bad (as in nasty, horrible) boys I have met in my life. Most of them got away with their crap scot-free. What a shame. What a damn shame. I really am good with a broom.

Healing on the Full Blue Moon Lunar Eclipse, 13th Moon, WOW!!!

2009-12-31T21:41:00.004-05:00

New Year's 2009, last New Year's in this decade, and we have a Full Moon, a Blue Moon, 13th Full moon this year, 2nd full moon in December, AND a partial lunar eclipse, visible in Europe. WOWOWOWOWOW!!!

Time for something special. Fall in love, have beautiful visions of the future, heal yourself, laugh, be kind to yourself and others, experience real inner peace, joy, passion, warmth. See the truth, tumble through the reality of your own pain into that indescribable joy that comes when the weight is lifted. Climb into that universal creative energy field, the basis of all life, or better yet, THROW yourself into it, and see where it takes you.

Let's hope for miracles! A sudden, world-wide change of consciousness--no more greed, no more war, no more cruelty, no more exploitation. Suddenly all of us seeing that we live in a MOST amazing paradise, and all the animals, fish, birds, trees, stars, weeds, wind, clouds, storms and sunshine are manifestations of the most intense joy and beauty possible. Let's worship the earth, bowing down to the beauty, protecting the beauty, loving the beauty, taking care and protecting from harm. Let us all Honor our Mother Earth and all her creatures, with all of our hearts.

And for those too wounded and damaged to love this earth, let's have compassion for them, but keep them from further harming the earth in a calm, caring spirit. When a person is healed, he or she no longer wishes gain for simple gain, or wants to harm for the sake of harm or the sake of power or the sake of revenge or the sake of old painful memories. So let us help the extreme greedy, war-mongering, cruel power-mongers among us to HEAL, and once healed, they will use their abundance for the common good, the good of all humanity and all the beautiful creature who cohabit this planet with us.

We have done tremendous damage to our planet, our nest. Maybe it is too late, and maybe the human species is doomed to extinction, along with so many other species who have simply been swept along in this tsunami of destruction.

But maybe it is NOT too late, NOT too late to save the beautiful species of birds, mammals, fish, insects, plants, amphibians, microscopic and macroscopic beings that inhabit this earth. Let's try to live according to this hope, and heal ourselves, and heal the earth.

I once saw a brief segment of a PBS program. It showed the most incredibly fantastical, strange creatures, ever-evolving, and inhabiting the very depths of the oceans. For no discernable reason, these creatures, all inhabiting the same environment, had evolved into a multitude of the most beautiful, remarkable unpredictable creatures—such variety the creatures could not be catalogued by science.

It was then that I fully understood that unpredictable, fantastic, incredibly BEAUTIFUL creativity is the ESSENCE of life. Those who try to control life, to bring the life force into predictability, to harness creativity and energy, to stomp out joy and spontaneity, to force homogeneity in Humans and other creatures, will never succeed. And the simple reason is that all of their efforts are contrary to the essence of Life itself. The very essence of life is creativity, spontaneity, unpredictable, fantastic beauty, passion, joy, untamed intensity.

A truly wild, crazily whirling spirit inhabits us all. We only need to touch it to see, really see, that so much of the "security" we have created for ourselves is nothing but a shadow of reality, a sham, a silly, unnecessary crutch. We can FLY!!! Really fly, in our dreams and in our lives. We only need love and joy and freedom to truly be happy in this life. And that is within our reach if we only open ourselves to it and release the pain within us.

I’m wishing love and beauty for myself and every other living creature in this New Year. And courage to speak up, to organize, to foster change, to reach out, to break barriers blocking peace in this world. Happy New Year’s to Everyone, especially all the wild and crazy spirits out there. Yes! I am talking to you. I always am, because you of all of these, you understand.

Holiday Miracles and of Course at least one Snark

2009-12-27T20:15:00.002-05:00

A Few Nice Things Happened Recently—don’t worry, I will be back to my snarky ways really soon. I intend to write a blog about insane therapists, since I just saw yet another nut-case, passing herself off as a healer. Really, that profession should be better regulated.

Here’s my happier stuff. Enjoy it, cuz I guarantee I WILL be back to snarky SOON!

I left my wet laundry in the washer, as I often do, and went shopping at Star Market. When I came back, about 90 minutes later (I got side-tracked, as I sometimes do...) my clothes were washed AND dried. WOW!!! A laundry room good fairy!

My daughter came for Christmas, and after almost six months of refusing to see her in person, she really made an effort! So THAT’S what it takes to get decent behavior???? Just keep saying, no no no no no I can’t see you? I wish someone had told me that years ago.

Anyway, it was nice. We had a great dinner of seasoned pork chops with sautéed apple and onion, rice, rappini, baked sweet potato and Ginger-Spice Christmas pudding with brown sugar sauce and crème anglaise. Seriously! I’m not kidding, and we cooked it all, except for the pudding, which was found at Whole Foods and IS amazing!

I skipped my annual “New Lyrics” pilgrimage to a local religious establishment. “Joy to the World, Our Queen has come! Let earth receive her joy!” I belt out my words pretty loud, offering a nice alternative, I think. “Joy to the World, Mother Nature reigns.” Virgins become “women”, and sin becomes “fun”. Darn I guess I’m kinda sorry I missed this. I always have so much fun—I especially enjoy the glares of the good god-fearing folks around me.

FINALLY a couple of “women-folk-films” after all this crap about women who just love being treated horribly (“Knocked Up”, for example) and movies where everything gets bombed to smithereens and the teenage boys in the audience shout out, “AWESOME!” I went to see the Queen Victoria movie and the Meryl Streep-Alec Baldwin movie, and I enjoyed BOTH of them. So there!

Alec Baldwin may be chubby and have a bad marital history but wow he definitely has got some kinda charisma! I’d accept a date with that man for SURE. I think...

And the roommate I really could NOT stand, one of the most aggressive passive-aggressive obnoxious boy-men I have ever met, left a week ago!!! YAY!!!! I am SO SO SO SO SO SO SO SO GLAD not to have his weird negative button-bushing energy around. Shoulda kicked him out months ago. Oh well, he’s gone, and I am HAPPY for that!

I have been missing someone I really enjoyed hanging out with last summer. It’s pretty special when you finally meet someone you can really connect to, you know? Someone you can tell some weird story to, a story about being a sugar shack tour guide for one day only, for instance, and they will get it, unlike some people, who would simply look at you like you are out of your friggin mind.

Both women movies I saw were really about that. Made me sad, kind of. Even if you can see the roadblocks and potential disasters straight ahead of you, and even if both parties are pretty much clearly off their rockers, it really is NICE to have a truly connecting laugh once in awhile. Especially in Boston, where it seems people are mostly bound and determined to NOT get what I am talking about most of the time.

At the Meryl Streep movie, a few women wanted to get into a fist fight with me, because I was on the phone for a minute. But I was calling the manager to let him know there was a problem with the sound! Instead of letting me explain that I was really trying to HELP, these bitches just got nastier and nastier.

Ooopppssss—well I guess that’s reassuring, isn’t it? I’m back to snarking again, without even trying.

Happy holidays, in any case. At least don’t let the family stuff get on top of you, or the insane buying frenzy. The SUN is coming back!!! That is really what it’s all about.

Time to Speak Up, NOW! Equal treatment for all!

2009-12-15T20:53:00.006-05:00

So normally when a blogger finds people are checking out her blog, she should feel really happy, right? Hmmmm...and yet I find myself with mixed feelings.

Why? Well, ever since I wrote a blog about the fatal police beating of Ken Howe of Webster, MA, I have suddenly had a spike in interest. It doesn't take much imagination or intelligence to figure out why I might have mixed feelings.

But last night I saw an interview with his sobbing wife, and images of a bruise from a foot smashed into his back, and I was horrified. And glad that I wrote what I did.

What kind of country is this if we all bury our heads in the sand, and don't believe that decent behavior IS possible, from police as well as politicians or CEOs? And YES, these people NEED to be regulated, just like the rest of us. If you or I get into a bar brawl, even just one on one, with each party ending up with a black eye, there's a pretty good chance we will be arrested and charged with assault.

If someone steals a shirt from the Gap, arrest and charges are pretty darn likely.

So why should police who lose control and beat someone to death be exempt? Or some CEO who is consumed with his own power and decides theft just goes with the job? Shouldn't he be charged?

If I dump garbage on the side of the road, I will at LEAST be ticketed. So what about major corporations that use the ocean, air and land as a dumping ground? Why should they be exempt?

The people in this country NEED to stand up, to speak out, to demand that the people we hire to work for us really work FOR us and not AGAINST us. And let's stop accepting the lie that politicians are working for US, if it is blatantly clear that they are working for the fat cat rich guys.

The health of the earth, our HOME, is in dire distress. If NOW isn't the time to find the courage to speak up, when WILL that time come? Speak up for your children, if it's too scary to do it for yourself. You can do it. Just write ONE letter to the editor and you will see how GREAT it feels to follow in the footsteps of the brave, outspoken founders of this country.

Drone Attacks are BIG BUSINESS, who cares if they kill poor people?

2009-12-03T21:33:00.004-05:00

OK. The issue of drone attacks is something that really makes me nauseous. But I am going to write about it anyway, briefly.

First of all, make no mistake, production of drone aircraft (Unmanned Aircraft Systems) is BIG BUSINESS. Forbes says $55 billion through 2020. And the US controls 77% of the market.

http://www.forbes.com/2009/07/29/aircraft-drone-market-business-oxford-analytica.html

Maybe this is why we "need" a war in Afghanistan? To pay the makers of these killing machines MORE MONEY from the coffers of US taxpayers?

What IS a drone, for anyone who is not sure? It is an unmanned aircraft loaded with bombs. Smaller unmanned missiles are also drones. With current technology, these drones are very "accurate" in their targets. But of course someone far away is determining the target. And perhaps the "targets" exist primarily to justify expenditures on these killing machines, and thus create more wealth for the people who run these companies.

Meanwhile, who are these drones actually killing? Extremely POOR people, living in mountain villages in the most basic of conditions. No, they will never kill anyone living in a mansion in the Hamptons. Those people COUNT.

Can you imagine sitting in your small village, nursing your baby, or making a simple supper on a fire? You hear the sound of an approaching aircraft, but there is no escaping it. There is no human being to face, to run from. This is not hand-to-hand combat. This is remote killing, cold and "efficient".

Forgive me if I don't believe Pentagon press releases about how the targets are terrorists. We already know that 30 members of a tribe (including women and children) were killed in 2007, and the ensuing outcry insisted the "terrorist target" was actually a wedding party.

http://www.independent.co.uk/news/uk/home-news/top-judge-use-of-drones-intolerable-1732756.html

We need to stop accepting lies, and start asking ourselves who and what constitutes the biggest REAL threat to our planet. Surely it isn't a few poor tribes people in some mountain community in Pakistan. How about looking at the giant corporations which poison our air, water and soil? Or the thieves on Wall Street and running Banks who steal our money and almost single-handedly bring down an entire economy?

American citizens need to DEMAND that the government reps we elect stop living in the past, i.e. the Endless War past, and start living in a PEACEFUL NOW!!! We need money for schools, health care, food, renewable energy, housing, and healing our natural environment. We do NOT need more WAR!!! Let Boeing, Lockheed Martin and others transition QUICKLY into the renewable energy market. Put the brain power of their employees into HEALING our earth, and STOP THE KILLING.

There are OTHER ways to make money than killing and maiming poor people. Believe it or not. It just takes a LITTLE imagination.

My Ancestors, Patriot Act Internet Surveillers and a Funny Thing

2009-12-02T01:47:00.005-05:00

So, for any Patriot Act empowered Internet Surveillers (really, there ARE other jobs out there, even in this economy), I thought I would: 1. Remind everybody about the text of the First Amendment (Surely the Bill of Rights is one of the first TRUE original "Patriot Acts"), 2. Recount a brief history of a couple of my ancestors and 3. Just for comic relief (It must get really dull following up all these snarky blogs about injustice and chasing leads based on silly "key words" such as "redheads") I thought I would recount a funny thing that happened at the Grocery store.

So, for starters, here is the text of the First Amendment of the Bill of Rights:

"Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof; or abridging the freedom of speech, or of the press; or the right of the people peaceably to assemble, and to petition the Government for a redress of grievances."

Now, as to my ancestors. Well, two brothers showed up in New York harbor in 1732, having traveled all the way from Bavaria, quite a feat back in those days. They set up farms in New Jersey. Their sons or grandsons fought in the Revolutionary War. They are my great-great times ten or so grandfathers. My own grandfather served on the Ambulance Division in World War I. My father served in the Radio Corps World War II. I have put in many hours as a community activist for much of my life. Perhaps true patriots?

And the thanks I get for these members of my family (and me!) serving their country and upholding the ideals of democracy and this country's founding principals is that I get surveilled for expressing concern about a need for greater oversight of the police force? Thanks a lot, guys. Really appropriate.

But in any case, since I am sure you are bored out of your minds with this "work", here is that funny short story.

I went to the grocery store tonight. Wanted to buy some "Boursin Garlic and Herb Cheese". But there was none available, for the second or third day in a row. So I asked the Deli guys about it. They said I should contact Mr. "Ong" the following day. I heard this as a Chinese name, and said, "Mr. Ung. As in H-U-N-G?" The guy smirked at me and said, "No. Ong. As in A-U-N-G." I had to turn away quickly because I started to laugh really really hard.

Only yesterday I was reviewing some photos I took quite some time ago of a very charming (OK, not so charming, but pretty remarkable in other ways) boyfriend I had some years ago. I figure that may have been the reason for this slip of the tongue.

In the Mood to Kill Someone and Get Away With it? Consider joining the police force

2009-11-30T20:25:00.002-05:00

It seems more and more clear that there is a PERFECT profession for would-be killers and thugs who want to get a paid vacation after killing an innocent person. Yes! Become a police officer!

Once again, an innocent person, Kenneth Howe of Webster, MA, has been beaten and killed by a gang of thugs, the cops. OK, he was allegedly smoking marijuana, which is now subject to a $100 fine in Massachusetts and something even US Presidents have admitted to doing. My god, half the cops smoke weed! This is NOT a capital offense, last I heard. Wanna place a bet that NO CHARGES WHATSOEVER are laid against any of the police in question?

http://www.boston.com/news/local/breaking_news/2009/11/driver_police_b.html

In case you don't believe me, check the history. Victoria Snelgrove, a 21-year-old Emerson student, a bystander after the first Red Sox World Series win in 86 years died in 2004. Victoria was standing OUT OF THE WAY at Fenway Park, just watching the celebratory happiness, when she was shot in the eye by a rubber bullet and died.

Any charges against the cop who shot into this crowd of happy bystanders? No way. And yet her parents received a $5.1 million settlement from the city of Boston. How does that work? Oh right, the rubber bullet was at fault, not the cop who decided to fire into a peaceful crowd.

In 2008, David Woodman, a young guy full of life and happiness after the Celtics Championship, made the HUGE mistake (and committed an atrocious crime, it seems) of saying, off-hand to a bunch of cops standing around a corner where nothing was going one, “Wow. I guess there’s a lot of crime on this corner.” For that he was beaten and died. Any charges against the police? No my friend, none.

"http://jonathanturley.org/2008/07/01/boston-police-accused-of-beating-student-to-death-for-snide-comment/

Allegedly David had a pre-existing heart condition. But just in case he didn’t, health “experts” have now conveniently discovered a BRAND NEW CONDITION!!! It is called “excited delirium” and if you didn’t know you had it before the cops beat you to death, you will find out after the fact, or at least your next of kin will.

http://www.theprovince.com/Knipstrom+death+linked+controversial+medical+condition+coroner+says/2243323/story.html

There are many cases in Massachusetts where a non-lethal weapon could have been chosen, particularly when dealing with a mentally ill or severely distraught person. Instead, over and over again, these people are killed. Any charges? Are you kidding me?

Then we have Sean Bell, the NYC bridegroom killed in 2006 leaving his bachelor party, and Amadou Diallo killed in NYC in 1999 while reaching for his ID. Any charges? Not a one.

So if you are thinking of calling the cops for help sometime, think twice. You may find yourself charged with something (the first tactic, even when police are at fault) and end up dead. And if you do die, will your family find justice? Not bloody likely.

When will it be time to look at the toxic environment of the police force? How about a look at the courts, which almost NEVER find any guilt in these cases? And how about higher standards when recruiting candidates for the police force, including better testing for bullying tendencies or other mental health issues?

Or if in fact the police are no longer there to protect and serve but instead to beat and kill if they so choose, let’s put the cards on the table, and send a general press release to the community at large.

At least then we will all know where we stand.

Here are a couple more links. There are thousands. Just Google “police abuse”.

http://www.coldink.net/2009/11/24/Abusive_cops_are_the_norm_not_the_exception

http://bullcutter.blogspot.com/2008/02/copd-kill-innocent-person-again.html

http://www.gainesnet.com/police.htm

YAY!! I Survived Thanksgiving and Lived to Write About It!

2009-11-27T19:55:00.006-05:00

Well, I made it through TG DAY. YAY!

And I didn’t:

1. Wander off into the woods in a huff after a TG Day annoyance, only to be found 24 hours later, alive and freezing, like the woman from Gloucester, MA.
2. Lock my kids in the trunk of my car, like the man from Fall River, MA (OK, this was Tuesday, but I think it counts as “Thanksgiving Week” behavior).
3. Shoot anybody, like the 76 year-old man in Colorado who shot and killed his 46 year-old son in an argument over chores.
4. Jump up and down on my mattress, fraying an electric cord, which then caused a fire, like the kids in Brockton, MA, resulting in 200K damage to two triple deckers.
5. Eat 3000 calories for my evening meal, like the average American at Thanksgiving dinner.
6. Crash a White House State Dinner (which really could have been interesting...maybe...although politicians DON’T strike me as the most fascinating people in the world...). Again, Tuesday, but it counts.
7. Crash my SUV into a fire hydrant pulling outta my driveway at 2:35 a.m. Thanksgiving night like Tiger Woods did, after an argument with his wife. (he’s OK, even though his wife then came running out to "help" him with a golf club in her hand)
8. See an image of Jesus in the bottom of my iron, like the woman in Methuen, MA (that woulda freaked me out, I’d say—although I have seen some pretty strange things in my life, such as a fish jumping for joy at a fish-less pond on Mont Royal in Montreal).
9. Line up at 3 a.m. for some cheap electronic junk from China that I really don’t need, like just about everybody did.
10. Get drunk or stoned, or call up some faithless ex-boyfriend for a "quick, let's avoid reality" booty call, or eat an entire pan of brownies in an attempt to space myself out on sugar.

So all in all, I am feeling pretty pleased with myself. All I did was get suicidally depressed for several hours, write some of the bleakest words ever to be put to paper, yell at the woman who works at the Harvard Square Theatre “You are HORRIBLE!!! You’re HORRIBLE!” after she was really nasty about letting me use the bathroom (I did it ANYWAY, so there!), shed a few tears on the bus, ate an entire bucket of buttered popcorn, sent a couple of guilt-tripping texts, and hated my roommate some more.

On the positive side, I met some nice people during my travels (including the British guy who buys an India ale every day from Cardullo’s and has lived here since 1967), made really fantastic homemade mince meat, realized again that I am SO grateful Werner Herzog and all his weirdness exists in this world, AND I didn’t jump off any bridges!!! So I consider this Thanksgiving a real success.

As a side note: I have a sign on the wall of my bedroom which reminds me to “Say YES to yourself!” and sometimes that involves saying NO to other people, including family members who might be inclined to use any get-together as an opportunity to have major screaming fits, as painful and difficult as that NO may be.

Next year I plan to be surrounded by love love love. Whatever it takes, I am damn well finding that in this world and making love love love the centerpiece of my life. That’s exactly what the extraterrestrials who landed in Africa in 1994 advised. OK, they said forgiveness is important too, but I’ll take this one step at a time. Here’s a link, for the skeptical among you:
http://www.ufoevidence.org/cases/case127.htm

Come on Boys, Get REAL!!!

2009-11-25T20:23:00.005-05:00

I'm sorry. There are just some times when it is impossible for me to hold my tongue.

A couple nights ago on Carson Daly was one of the LEAST-TALENTED musicians I have ever seen in my life. But there he was, playing guitar and being adored by a crowd of mostly women, a few men (it was San Francisco, I think).

A flashing neon sign went off in my brain: "Hey, guys!!! I play guitar AND I have a penis, so I MUST BE AMAZING!!!" This guy was so damn pleased with himself it made me want to puke.

Really. Enough is enough. You guys are NOT entitled to be adored simply because you have YOUR extra flesh appendage exposed as opposed to protected (like we women do!). And women need to STOP participating in this LIE!!!

Robin Williams joked that he was so emotional after his bypass procedure that he thought the doctors must have given him a kitty cat (not his word, mine) rather than a valve.

GIVE ME A BREAK!!! People throw this "you're a pussy" insult around all the time, the implication being that vaginas, and the people who own them, are somehow weak, vulnerable, not too smart and just plain yucky.

Excuse me, penis-people, but have YOU ever tried to push the equivalent of a watermelon outta your exposed flesh? I thought not.

Did you know that one reason Einstein and his wife separated is that she was pissed that he "borrowed" so many of HER theories (including Relativity) and never gave her any credit?

And did you know that some artists, including the very famous Georgia O'Keefe, think vaginas are just plain BEAUTIFUL???? Funny how something that at least 75% of men chase after most of their lives can be reduced to an insult. Maybe the truth is, boys, it just BUGS you to be so obsessed with something so soft, beautiful, strong and powerful that YOU don't OWN!!!!

Really, I just cannot take this any more. The expression ought to be, "Wow, he's really got OVARIES" and "You da pussy" should replace "You da MAN" as a compliment.

And talentless guitar players are talentless guitar players, penis or not!

Dreading the Holidays

2009-11-24T19:27:00.005-05:00

I know I'm not supposed to say this, but honestly, the period of time between now and January 2nd is just not something I EVER look forward to.

Let's see, first we have Thanksgiving. Well, Native Americans mark this with a Day of Mourning. That makes sense to me. Not only from the perspective of the horrible genocide Native Americans experienced at the hands of Europeans, but also because so many people dread, I mean DREAD, with fear and trepidation, the yearly trip to the family.

I tried, one year, to participate in the Day of Mourning at Plymouth, MA. I didn't feel really welcome. I probably have some Native American blood (two of my ancestors arrived in this country in 1732 and fought in the Revolutionary War, so I figure my blood is pretty mixed), but honestly I'm 90% non-NA. So I understood. A little like having men at a feminist support group.

I figure this might be the second year in a row that I just call off the holiday, in terms of spending time with any relatives. That helps, sort of. But one is left with a lot of sadness to deal with. Maybe I could just go on a bender for the next few days, and again around December 25th. Oh wait, I don't drink or do drugs. Darn.

Then, we get to Christmas. Well, aside from the fact that I am not Christian, but closer to a nature-loving Pagan, I also get really nauseous with the Buy Buy Buy money orgy of the season. I even wrote a song about it once. It's called "Buy Buy Buy"!!! I think most of the buying is really a bribe to that terrifying family. "Here, Uncle Joe, look at the great IPod I bought you! PLEASE don't get drunk this year and scream at everyone and knock over the Christmas tree like you did last year, OK?"

Or, "Here Mom, look at the beautiful sweater I bought you. Now, can you PLEASE not give me the third degree about my love life and remind me that I SHOULD be married to a doctor with a brood of snot-nosed kids by now, like you do every year?"

Oh, and never mind all the treacherous memories just lurking under the surface, like some blood-thirsty shark just waiting to attack. OK, I know sharks aren't really like that--Humans just aren't very tasty--but memories ARE!

Maybe the best Christmas I ever had was one year when I went to Mexico with my friend Wade. He wasn't really happy about it once we got there, because Wade is gay (or he was then--when I first met him he was straight, so I'm not sure where he's at these days). Wade found Playa del Carmen overwhelmingly straight and macho. He just didn't realize that some of the extreme machos were in the closet waiting for a lovely man like Wade to open the door. Patience is required.

For me, it was simpler. I'm pretty gorgeous, if I do say so myself. Also smart. I speak a little Spanish, and I love to dance. On top of that, I'm from a Rich Country, which means that I MUST be rich, right? Even if we were sleeping in hammocks at the Palapas Hostel on the beach, surely we had plenty of money back home. (nope, but hey, I was on vacation, in a foreign country, so I guess in some way that DID make me rich) So I had lots of attention from some very pretty boys. It was quite fun, for awhile.

Oh, poop. Even reminiscing about my Mexican adventures isn't helping. Maybe it's time to take up drinking.

When Old Codgers Call Me "Red" I Really LOVE It!

2009-11-17T18:34:00.003-05:00

OK, all right. I'll admit it. I really LOVE it when some eccentric old codger calls me "Red". Makes me feel like I'm stepping right out of a 1940's movie.

One of my favorite is Charlie, a tall grey-haired conductor on the Fitchburg line train, which I take to Concord to go swimming at Walden Pond when weather permits (actually, I was just there a week ago and some crazy guy was swimming, but no, not me). The two vertical sides of Charlie's face don't match at ALL, so sometimes when I am tired I feel like I need to blink to get his face in focus. Only with Charlie it doesn't work. But I don't care! Charlie always calls me "Red"!!!

"Hey Red, how's it going?" he asks, as I hand him my ticket. I really LOVE that!

It helps that Charlie has a distinguished 1940's vibe going on, a little like James Stewart in his later years. Charlie is friendly and funny in a way that I think has almost disappeared from the face of the earth. He's actually kind of fatherly--which is something I have rarely found in any man of any age since I reached puberty.

But I remember another man, similar to Charlie. His name was Hank, and he was a tall, angular, craggy-faced cab driver who frequented the Greasy Spoon where I worked after school when I was a teenager. Hank had SUCH a beautiful face! He always reminded me of Humphrey Bogart--clearly his life had been difficult, but he had so much dignity and kindness, and a major twinkle in his eye behind the pain.

Hank came in almost every night in his worn leather jacket and ordered the special, which was usually mashed potatoes, peas and carrots and some kind of protein -- meatloaf, sliced turkey, hot roast beef sandwich, tuna a la king (OK I'm getting carried away--it's supper time and I'm hungry!).

After supper, Hank would order coffee to go with his cigarette, and that is when, in his beautiful baritone voice, he would say "Thanks, Red" and give me a really good tip. I was saving every penny to get my own place (and get the hell away from my mother's drinking "problem") as SOON as I finished high school, so that three dollar tip meant a LOT to me.

I always imagined that Hank had been in love once, maybe married, and his wife had run off with another man, and now he lived in a Boarding House with his own private bath but no kitchen, and watched the evening news while he smoked his cigarette and thought about Betty Jo and that scoundrel she ran off with. I really liked Hank.

And so, just now, a guy selling Spare Change, the "homeless" newspaper, called me "Red". "Hey Red, help the homeless?" Well, he had me at "Red". I bought the paper, and gave him a dollar tip, in honor of Hank and Charlie, and the few really NICE men in my life who have made me feel special in a really lovely, warm kind way.

Snarky Blog--Don't Read This if You are in a Good Mood!

2009-11-15T19:39:00.002-05:00

Every time someone is executed in this country, I am sickened. Remember Rwanda? That country has abolished capital punishment, but the United States, alone amongst "Western Industrial" nations, continues to allow capital punishment as a state-by-state mandate. And in cases of federal law, states without capital punishment can sometimes be overruled by the feds. So the Washington DC sniper was put to death last week. Will it bring back the people killed? No. Just more blood spilled. So barbaric, really.

The US strikes me as such a medieval country in so many ways. Still running empire wars, enslaving the poor with impossibly low wages, denying health care to the less privileged, forcing poor young women to bear children they can never support (abortion access is NEVER an issue for the wealthy), handing over taxes to Corporate, Wall Street and Banker Kings, while about 15% of the country has no visible means of support, all the while claiming that "God wills it". Yeah. Sure.

OK next. Check the video of the woman who "accidentally" fell on the T tracks in Boston a few days ago. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=P__S-OF0ezU

I hope someone who knows her is smart enough to realize she was actually "accidentally" trying to commit suicide, whether she realizes it or not, and gets her the help she needs. First, she goes to the corner where the train will first enter the station (greatest impact area). Then, she lights a cigarette ("casual"). The she looks down the track to see if the train is coming. Then, she doesn't just "stumble" onto the tracks, for goddess's sake! She JUMPS/stumbles (looks like part of her does NOT want to die, YAY). And to me, it looks like she intentionally touched the 3rd rail with her foot, maybe figuring it would knock her out so she wouldn't feel so much the impact of the train. Yes all of this could also be just a "drunken accident". But she admitted to having drunk FOUR TWENTY-TWO OUNCE beers in a couple of hours. WHY?

I knew a teenager in Montreal who committed suicide in exactly this manner, except that she was hopped up on psych meds and not juiced. After spending about 8 months at the loony bin for extreme manic-depression and NO ONE being able to figure out why this smart, beautiful 16 year old was so messed up, she was doped up on meds and sent home. Home to the father who had been sexually abusing her for years. A month later she jumped in front of a train. She died, and no one, least of all her father (or so he claimed, to the media), understood what had led her to such desperation.

Next comment: WHY the hell is it that almost every frickin (and by the way, this is NOT a polite word--it comes from "frigging" which means self-pleasuring, as I learned from Irish-Canadians I met in Eastern Canada; "fricking" or "freakin" is just a couched Americanization) time I sit down inside Au Bon Pain to work on photos, someone (usually male) decides to slam the back of his chair into mine. It's not as if I'm invisible. Or maybe that's what the message is--"You SHOULD be invisible" as in, get outta my space, you female encroacher, you.

Reference for "frig": http://dictionary.reference.com/browse/frig

Next comment: I still hate my roommate. He is so arrogant, condescending and passive-aggressive. I hate it when I hate a roommate. He is not so horrible that I have to kick him out, but I hate feeling like I just CAN'T WAIT til he leaves. Really hate it. And sure, I can try to talk to him, but he won't get it. Just like he doesn't get why I don't want him using my personal bath soap. Yuck!

Finally (not really, but I can only snark so much before it tires even me out): why is that I have met many a man who was initially SO ATTRACTED to me, for my red hair and feisty attitude, and then the second or third order of business (after meeting and charming me) is to try to get me "Under Control"? WHY IS THAT? Something else I just hate. Oh, it can take many forms. Sometimes very coarse, such as quick anger and jealousy. Other times more subtle, such as abruptly rescheduling appointments, or revealing a hidden addiction and insisting I be the rescuer, or being extremely secretive, or “juggling” a few women at once. The hook, of course, is that I, being the female, should not complain, pry, demand, get pissed or have a damn fit, even if I feel like it. Why is that? Why take something wild and crazy (which you LOVE for being wild and crazy) and try to tame the very thing you love? I don’t get it.

More About Ghosts and Goblins in Montreal

2009-11-13T17:15:00.002-05:00

OK, so really I need to call Sprint and deal with the fact that they have once again screwed up the bill (in their favor, of course) but I HATE dealing with that crap, and I always end up yelling at someone working in the Philippines for two bucks an hour and then I feel guilty and exhausted. So here's my solution: procrastinate!

Sometimes procrastination isn't all bad. It can get you to take care of other stuff, like cleaning out the microwave, waxing your floors, enrolling in online banking--all pretty essential to modern living. Argh.......

So before I take a shower, bake some cookies, sort out my old files and practice my guitar (I am now ONE PERCENT BETTER than I was 6 weeks ago, haha!) in lieu of screaming at "Brittany" in the Philippines, I thought in honor of Friday the 13th, I'd write a little bit more about the ghosts I lived with in Montreal.

The first one, who was there most frequently, I will call Zachary. His story is in my blog about Cambridge Clones. So I won't repeat everything about him--but maybe just one anecdote about something funny that he did.

The second ghost, who I really don't WANT to give a name, hung out in the bathroom. Sometimes he would leave drops of blood in the sink (SERIOUSLY! No idea where that came from!) and more often, he would turn on the water in the bathtub. So of course, I had the bathtub fixture checked, and there was nothing wrong with it.

After living with him for a long time (I stayed in that place for 15 years!), I found out that someone had actually died in the bathroom, long ago. Apparently he had a heart attack and was calling out for help, but the insane family living there (relatives of the insane family who currently owned the place) ignored him, and he died.

Knowing the insane landlords (the Goldbergs, whose son had actually killed his own father but never been charged--true to Montreal justice, the case didn't proceed, because after the father died of a severe beating, the judge dismissed the case for lack of a witness!!!) I figure there is much more to that story, but honestly, did I want to know what it was? Not really.

OK so there may have been a third ghost, but I don't want to talk about that at all right now, because he was waayyyy too scary, if he existed.

Instead, let me finish this segment of my procrastination vacation with the anecdote about Zach.

At the back of my apartment (it was the third/top floor of a triplex in the Plateau area, not far from Mount Royal Park) was a room we used as a study. One day at about 5 p.m. I was in that room writing, with the door closed. I heard the front door of the apartment open, someone walk up the steps, through the living room and hall and into the kitchen, which was right next to the study.

I figured it was my roommate Karen, so I kept working. Karen (or so I thought) banged around with pots and pans, so I figured she was making something for supper. But after a few minutes, the banging stopped, and I heard the person walk back through the apartment and out the front door. I thought it was a little odd, but maybe Karen changed her mind and decided to eat at the Souvlaki joint on the corner instead?

Twenty minutes later I thought that was a good idea--great Souvlakis, and I was hungry. So I walked over to the resto, and sure enough, there was Karen, sitting there enjoying a plate of chicken kebob, rice and salad. It looked good.

I sat down with her. "Hey Karen, so you decided not to cook supper at home tonight?"

Karen looked completely baffled. "What are you talking about?" she asked.

I told her I had heard her banging around in the kitchen while I worked on my writing in the study. She shook her head.

"I haven't been home yet. I came from downtown directly here, to eat." I didn't believe her at first, but she was adamant.

OK, so did she give keys to someone else? She swore no, and I believed her, since no one had ever just walked into the place before, and she had been living there for four months. AND, because my landlord and family were so insane, I had secretly changed the locks without telling them and NOT given them a key. Not legal, I know, but I didn't care. They were truly dangerous.

Oh well, so I ordered a Souvlaki sandwich and figured hmmm, strange, but...

Well, so a couple weeks later I was sitting in the same restaurant about the same time, and who walked in but Karen.

We had the SAME conversation again, only this time she thought it was ME who came home, rattled pots around and then left. But, like Karen the previous time, I had gone to the restaurant directly from a Spanish class downtown.

So Zach had a sense of humor, I guess. Or maybe it was his wife? One previous roommate claimed to have seen both Zach and a woman, walking arm and arm down the stairs. So maybe Zach's wife Cecily came home to cook a nice meal for him, and then went out to get molasses to make cookies?

Whoever it was sounded a bit annoyed. Probably thought the kitchen wasn't clean enough, cuz it never was. I only started cleaning more after I did Vipassana meditation and heard the birds chatting, but that's another story.

Walking at Walden Pond and Avoiding Exhibitionists

2009-11-09T20:20:00.001-05:00

So today I finally got out to Walden Pond again. It has been one month, and the last time I was there I was feeling pretty devastated because of, what else? Some person with that extra appendage who had let me down big time.

Maybe I will write a whole blog about that very soon. (Don't worry, Darius Leavenworth, of Main St, Arlington, TX, 888-555-1212, I will NOT provide any details about you!) But right now, let's talk about walking around Walden Pond at about 4 p.m. in November.

It was so beautiful and calm, peaceful cloudy and overcast. Seemed a bit lonely, as in, not a lot of people around so I thought, "Well, I'll just walk to the cove and back." I took a bunch of photos--branches and water, leaves and sky. I'll post one I took awhile ago with this blog.

Normally I feel pretty safe at Walden Pond, but it can get a bit eerie when there is no one else walking the path. I was weighing possibilities when suddenly Sophie Freud, the granddaughter of Sigmund, who is in her 80's, hoofed it past me, wearing headphones and a brace on her right arm. She smiled at me. We've talked before.

"Hi, Sophie!" I called out. "Are you going to walk all the way around the pond?"

She nodded. I asked about her arm. She said it was OK. Obviously not in the mood for a conversation. The parking lot gates close at 5, and it takes about 45 minutes to walk around the pond. So I waved her on, while I took a few more photos.

But now I figured, if Sophie can do it, so can I. So I took a deep breath and started my trek around the pond. I took a few photos, got nervous a few times, heard mysterious crackling in the bushes from time to time, made my detailed plan for escape from any ravaging beast, human or animal (it involves throwing my backpack at the ravager and jumping into the freezing lake), loved the sounds of snapping twigs and shuffling leaves, avoided a few madly dashing joggers, wondered where I could buy some pepper spray (just in case), thought about how anyone in the throes of new love should definitely buy a new generic wardrobe and NEVER EVER wear that special Che T-shirt, because if the person you love ditches you, then you will want to burn anything that reminds you of the pain, and it would be much easier to burn new generic clothing than a special Che Shirt from Chinatown, NYC, and then I thought about how great it would be to have a special ISLAND for people in the throes of new love, so that, once again, if one person ditches the other, for absolutely no reason at all, then the injured party would not be inclined to leave town to avoid painful memories surfacing all over the damn place.

Anyway, at about 4:45 I rounded the last cove heading to the Kids' Beach and then the parking lot. For some reason, I decided to have a look at the public bulletin board. Well, actually, the REASON was that I wanted to see if the Ranger had finally posted a warning about deer ticks, since I got bitten by one a few years ago and when I called to let park supervisors know, they breezily told me they were having an INFESTATION!!! But NO warning sign anywhere!

OK, I found a small tick warning, but THEN...right next to the tick sign on the bulletin board...a larger warning: "Please be advised that an individual has been spotted at Walden Pond exposing himself to park patrons. If you see this person, do not approach him." (of course, it's a HIM--how often do you ever hear of a female exposing herself at a park?) "Call the police."

Well, damn. I was REALLY glad I hadn't seen that notice before my walk. And who knows, maybe those snapping twig sounds in the woods...?

I immediately wondered if an acquaintance, let's call him "Bill" had finally gone off the deep end. Bill has a tendency to grab women's butts and other parts, right out of the blue. I confronted him about this in September. He denied having a problem. I suggested he get help before he gets in trouble. Maybe silly old Bill, like so many silly old men, didn't listen to me.

Time to buy that pepper spray. Or maybe hoof it after Sophie next time.

Exxon Mobil Gets Iraq Contract, Sam Says Americans Are Innocent

2009-11-07T21:24:00.001-05:00

“I’m for anything it takes to keep innocent Americans safe,” said Sam, talking to me an hour ago.

“But most Americans are NOT innocent, Sam. Do you know how many truly innocent civilians have been killed in Iraq due to the American invasion and occupation? A million or more. For real.”

Sam was in the military himself, many years ago, so he doesn’t pay me any mind. He was also a guitarist in a heavy metal band, until he got shot in his left hand while arguing with a cocaine dealer.

Exxon Mobil and Royal Dutch Shell just inked an agreement with the Iraq oil ministry to develop one of the largest oil fields in Iraq. I mention this to Sam. His face goes blank.

“So the people who screamed at my ‘NO BLOOD FOR OIL’ signs were WRONG and my sign was RIGHT!!!! Follow the money, Sam. The whole POINT of that invasion was the oil. It was never about Saddam Hussein, other than the fact that he wasn’t willing to fork over his oil as quickly as Exxon and other World Corporate Leaders wanted.”

I don’t really know why I am talking to Sam about this. He’s a great mandolin player. Amazing, since the middle two knuckles of his left hand are held together by a metal pin. But, like so many Americans I’ve met, even most of the “liberals” seem to have been horribly brainwashed.

I told Sam I thought Osama Bin Laden was “selected” to be the invisible bad guy because his name is easy to pronounce. Sam insisted Bin Laden IS a truly bad guy and said, “Well if they put it in the paper, there’s got to be some truth to it.” Whaaatttt????? I seem to recall something about proof of Iraqi Weapons of Mass Destruction being published in the NY Times a few years back.

But here’s the thing. How stupid can human beings be? WHEN are we the people going to get together and INSIST that we don’t WANT to burn oil or coal any more? When are we, en masse, going to voluntarily leave our cars at home, and use public transit, walk, ride bikes, in order to REALLY put less CO2 into the atmosphere? When are we going to insist on government representatives who truly understand that we are on a path of extinction, and that the whole model of GREED and unrestrained development must go the way of the Dodo?

The people in charge of the wholescale destruction of our planet, our home, our nest (and US), are criminals and should be charged and imprisoned as such. The rest of us have a huge mess to clean up. Fast.

Trillium, Khanji, Dr. Thuna, The Diva and Me

2009-11-02T01:22:00.000-05:00

I had a friend in Montreal, who broke up with her long-time boyfriend Paul to have a mad affair with a married older man, Khanji (and I THINK I keep seeing Khanji in Harvard Square and that he has relocated here, I guess I should just ASK the guy some day, "Are you Khanji from Montreal?"), but of course Paul was not happy about it and waited a long time to see what my friend would do.

Well, yes, eventually she and Khanji (who had left his long-time wife for her) did break up, and my friend moved by herself (poor Paul) to a ranch in Arizona and changed her name from Patricia to Trillium and as far as I know she is NOT now relocated in Cambridge but still lives on that ranch in Arizona. I imagine that she still has that pale Medieval face and that dark hair to her waist and wears long midnight-blue gowns, but who knows? Maybe now she is weathered and tanned with a blond bob and wears cowboy boots and chaps.

But the point I am trying to get to is that Tricia and I had a discussion once about how hard it is to break relationship patterns. We came to this analogy: If YOU finally tell your partner that it really BUGS you that he leaves the toilet seat up all the time, then HE is probably going to finally tell you that you snore at night, which will lead to YOU finally letting him know that his breath REALLY stinks in the morning, and then HE will tell you that he actually hates your hair short and always preferred it long, and well... the madness will just never end. Which is why most couples just keep their mouths shut and end up silently hating each other after 20 years together, and take vacations to Sanibel Island and go out to dinner at Gramma Dot's and barely speak a word during the whole meal, all the while staring at the one single woman in the whole place, who sits alone reading and actually looks happy (that would be me, a few years ago in Sanibel Island).

But sometimes, you know, you just have to take a chance, dive in, hold your breath, hope for the best and OPEN your damn mouth. And that is what I have done recently with a close relative who is, quite frankly, very often a total Diva Beyatch with me. She takes her stress and her crap out on me and I JUST HATE IT!!!!! So, I have started hanging up on her the minute she gets that attitude. I have also refused to let her set foot in my house for the past five months. And it's really interesting how, rather than trying to alter her behavior or even apologize, she has just gotten worse and worse, until I hang up after about thirty seconds, and sometimes less.

I figure something is about to break (as in breakthrough) or maybe we will end up with a relationship in short bursts of text only. But the harder I put my foot down, the more she just seems to want to stomp on it. Pretty painful, until I finally figured out that I need to not only put my foot DOWN, but move it the hell outta the way. We'll see what develops. I'll keep you posted.

As for Tricia or Trillium...well the other best part of her story is that we worked together grading papers for an herbalist correspondence course which was pretty much either bogus or stolen from other sources. A very old (85) crotchety mean man, Dr. Thuna, ran the place. But I think he was a figurehead, since he pretty much did nothing except complain and daydream. He was also profoundly deaf.

One day the fire alarm went off, which it had never done before. We worked in a basement office, twenty feet from Dr. Thuna, and there was only one exit. Dr. Thuna was daydreaming and had not heard the alarm.

Tricia looked at me and then Dr. Thuna, the wheels turning, and asked, "Do you think this is a real fire?" I answered, "Maybe. This IS a pretty decrepit building."

Tricia grabbed her knapsack and yanked my arm. "Then let's get the hell OUT of here!"

She ran for the exit. But I called after her. "Tricia, we can't leave Dr. Thuna!" Tricia turned to me, a burning dark fire in her eyes, some primal instinct I had never suspected nor seen before in her angelic alt-girl face. "Oh can't we?" she asked. "Just watch me!" And she ran up the stairs. To freedom. Alone. Without the Boss.

I didn't hate Dr. Thuna quite as much as Tricia, since I only worked 12 hours a week. Tricia worked 35. So I ran to his side, yelled, "FIRE" in his one slightly less-deaf ear, and helped him hobble out of the building.

In the end, there was no fire. But six months later Tricia ran off with Khanji. And poor Paul sat there shaking his head in dazed incomprehension, while I remembered that look in her eyes. She was just running for freedom, and honor or Dr. Thuna be damned. If the whole place burned down behind her, sobeit. Tricia was breaking patterns, and that takes guts. With a big helping of insanity, for good measure.

Jesse and Ben and Paranormal Activity

2009-10-28T00:55:00.001-04:00

I keep running into Jesse Eisenberg. Why IS that? Am I meant to speak with him? And why Ben Affleck? Ran into him a couple times also.

Oh, I know they are making movies in Boston and Cambridge, but I have NOT been going out of my way to find them. I am just peddling down the street on my bike and suddenly there is Jesse in front of my face. Or I’m writing at Au Bon Pain, and there’s Ben looking at me while he takes a break from filming.

Maybe I need to finally FINISH my two screenplays. Or write a new one, all about difficult men and the havoc they can wreak in one’s life. Speaking of which—if you haven’t seen Paranormal Activity, and you are in the mood for a feminist revenge fantasy disguised as a horror movie, check it out! Really, it’s hilarious. Some kind of parable there. I noticed the main people saying "I don't think I'm going to be able to sleep tonight" after the movie were male. Sorry, but that did make me laugh...personally I slept fine.

I Need more Fun in my Life!!! NOW!!!!

2009-10-26T23:49:00.000-04:00

Not really a blog, this. Just putting it out there. I realized today that I spend far too much of my life being serious, worrying, working, fretting, not liking my roommate, not really being able to relate well to Boston-type people, missing some guy who very RUDELY ditched me for no apparent reason, and what I really want is to have some FUN!!!!

So I'm putting it out there to the universe: I need to have some good clean (or slightly dirty would be fine too) FUN!!! SOON!

Like Nick explained about hooking Mariah. "Speak it so." So I am speaking FUN into my life.

OK, so what would that include? Laughing with someone I can really relate to. Dancing. Listening to some amazing music. Talking, exchanging ideas and observations, again with someone I can really relate to (which would be: smart, creative, unusual, quirky, open, funny, honest, compassionate, brave, silly, intuitive, deep). Feeling beautiful, and finding other people also beautiful. Giving and receiving physical affection, nice comfy hugs and kisses (and MORE with the right person!). Singing. Playing guitar, even if I am pretty much horrible at it. Traveling somewhere really interesting, even if only for a few days. (well, heck, a trip around the world would even be better!) Finding a great movie I want to see over and over again. Leaf-peeping NOW before all the leaves in these parts are blown off the trees. Walking around Walden Pond and seeing that beautiful blue loon again. Free money!! Yes! I WOULD like to win the lottery!!! Two or three million dollars should do it. But I will happily take more.

Wait a minute, universe! I just spoke FUN into my life and here comes Howie and his beloved wife, sitting right next to me. I meant fun as in REAL fun, not "drive me crazy til I want to scream” psychosis that sometimes passes for fun. C'mon universe!!! Listen to me for once! I need REAL, soul nourishing FUN!!!! And that includes depth, connection, fire (as in volcanic fire!), wind (as in wild thunderstorm wind), water (as in warm tropical), earth (as in moist, warm, smells GREAT earth), love (as in ALL kinds of wonderful real love), joy (as in gee I feel GREAT joy) and complete and utter silliness.

Thanks universe. Howie and wife have moved to another spot. I think I might just go see a movie. In anticipation of more REAL fun today and every day of my life.

PS I asked for fun and then 4 of the weirdest people in HvdSq sat near me. First Howie and Wife, then old chunky big Man who thinks he is the best of everything in the entire world (long annoying conversation with him a couple years ago at Starbucks while he drank whiskey from a flask), and now thin man with glasses in red jacket who obsessively cleans tables and chairs before he sits down and then looks at me like he hates my guts when in fact I don’t even know his name!!! Ay yi yi!!!! This is NOT exactly what I have in mind, universe!!!!!!! I know you have your own quirky sense of humor, but.... Come ON!!!!

Ben Affleck and the Brighton Electric Gigolo Van

2009-10-22T01:17:00.002-04:00

So this is the second day I have seen Ben Affleck hanging out in Harvard Square. OK, he’s not just hanging out, he’s acting in and directing a film. Fortunately, it’s right next to my usual hang-out, the outdoor Au Bon Pain patio. So I can sit here and write, read, drink tea, while simultaneously watching Ben and his team prepare for a shot that will take two hours to set up, 7 minutes to film, and end up as a 30 second blip in his film, “The Town”.

One positive off-shoot of this film crew’s presence is that the normally cloned appearance of a Cambridge denizen seems to miraculously transform the minute the person catches sight of the lights and cameras. First, a quick hand to the hair to fix the locks. Then the face settles into character. I have noted quite a range: quirky character actor, romantic lead, Allston indy-type, intellectual snob, corporate criminal, homeless drunk or druggy, off-the-meds crazed schizo, studious but handsome nerd (male or female), worried mother, sad father, and on and on. Or maybe, these people are here all the time and they only look unique because I am seeing them through film-crew-colored glasses?

Now I notice a few people who look like versions of various movie stars. Here is a guy who looks a lot like Scottish actor Ewan McGregor. Now another guy, a shorter skinnier version of Denzel Washington. Oh, and there’s that woman who plays Sami on “Days of Our Lives”, my new favorite unemployed pastime. Just love it!

Did you know Sami is trying to HELP Nicole keep her adopted baby Sydney, who is actually Sami’s baby, although Sami thinks she buried her own baby Grace awhile ago (but Grace was really teenage Mia’s baby, switched by Nicole), and meanwhile Nicole is actually a former porn star who is married to EJ, who thinks baby Sydney is no relation to him, but in fact EJ IS the father, and EJ is the son of Stefano Dimero, one of Salem’s Mafioso-type patriarchs who lies on his possible death bed, knowing the truth but in a coma, so how can he help? And all that after watching this soap for only ONE week!

Man, THAT is my ideal job! A writer for a soap opera. They must have so much fun thinking up this stuff!!!

So now a cop makes us all move away from the Au Bon Pain wall so we won’t be in the shot. Like HOW am I going to be in the shot? This looks like a medium close up again. Anyway. They should be so lucky as to have me in their movie, and for free! I know I will bring luck. I usually do.

I have to admit I am getting a little tired of hearing that name...Ben Affleck Ben Affleck Ben Affleck. I never minded it before but it is starting to drive me NUTS. Sorry, Ben!

Yesterday a woman watching the scene with me noted that the PA’s (the grunts) didn’t seem to be “very talented”. Just as she made this comment, and I laughed, a young guy driving what looked like an adult-size open playpen with a motor almost ran into one of the bigger wigs on the set, an intense, slightly chubby curly-haired guy who keeps telling people not to take photos with their flashes on.

Most of the people wandering around this set are men, with a few women. I’d say 90% male, come on BEN! Give the girls a break! Hire more WOMEN!!!.

Now they are filming inside the maroon red robbery van which reads “Brighton Electric” and in smaller letters underneath, “Fast • Reliable • Professional” and then “Serving Greater Boston”. I am thinking this would be a perfect van for a gigolo from Brighton, not that I know anyone who would fit the bill. With a shag rug, a psychedelic poster and a disco mirror ball on the interior, the Brighton Electric Gigolo Service could function like a Bookmobile!!! But without books, maybe a few magazines, and of course specialized services...

OK so I see that Ben’s scarlet red Boston Red Sox toque has moved down the street. See what I mean, after all that time setting up, it took all of 7 minutes to film the shot. A lot like sex with a difficult man. And sometimes, after all that work, the 7 minute shot is just completely edited out, as though it never happened! And maybe it never did! Again, a lot like sex with a difficult man.

Ben was looking at me at one point (not that I think Ben is difficult, but then again...). Yes, Ben, I probably am one of the few truly interesting people you might meet here in Cambridge. But I have a headache, for real. Maybe next film.

Bob, Al Green and The Witch of Salem

2009-10-18T18:26:00.000-04:00

So last week I met Bob, who was thin and drunk and mustachioed and shivering on a bus bench, after catching the Rev. Al Green in concert at the House of Blues. [Al was great, inspiring and charming, incredible band, two WONDERFUL drummers, but the show was a tad brief...sorry Rev. Al!]

I thought maybe Bob wanted the bench space to himself, so when he turned to me, I said, "Sorry--just waiting for the One Bus to Cambridge". Bob replied, "Do you have a cell phone?" Warily, I said, "Yeah. Do you need to use it?", hoping he would not abscond with it, or maybe worse, vomit on my phone. Bob said, "Can you call 911 for me? I'm dying here."

Wow. Now I felt like a jerk, for thinking bad thoughts about Bob. I'm familiar with that "I'm dying here" feeling, so I asked, "What's going on?" Bob held out his gnarled shaking hands and said, "I can't stop shaking. I don't know if it's the alcohol or the cold, but I feel like I'm dying. I need to get to a hospital." It was really cold and damp. Bob's short green jacket was way too thin for the weather. I figured maybe Bob had hypothermia, and I told him so.

Bob told me he felt like laying down on the bench and going to sleep. He leaned over. I tugged on his jacket and said, "I don't think that's a good idea. You really need to stay awake." That's what I remembered from Red Cross training in high school. Drugs, head trauma, hypothermia. Keep the victim awake til they get to the hospital.

As I fished in my backpack for my phone, Bob explained to me he had already asked several passersby if they could help by calling 911, but everyone had ignored him. Oh yes, Boston, that warmest and kindest of all places!

I called 911. I explained that I thought Bob had hypothermia, and could they get there ASAP? The woman on the other end said, "five or ten minutes".

To take Bob's mind off his distress while we waited, I decided to make conversation. I asked his name-- "Bob", his age "45", and where he was from "Salem". "I wish I was there now, " said Bob.

"Oh, yeah, the Witch Capital of the Northeast," I commented. Bob eyed my long red hair and black and red clothing and asked, "Are you a witch?" I said "No", but Bob didn't believe me.

"It's OK with me, I don't mind witches," he said, to reassure me.

I told him, "It's not that I don't believe in that stuff, I just think you have to be very, very careful with it, or it can come back and bite you in the ass." Bob nodded in agreement.

I looked down Mass Ave toward the Hynes Center, hoping the ambulance would arrive quickly. I didn't want to miss my bus.

"I know Laurie Cabot, the Witch of Salem," Bob announced.

"You do?" I asked.

Bob said, "Yep. I went to high school with her daughter."

I nodded, curious about what was coming next.

"Her daughter and I got caught smoking weed together one day at school. Sent to the principal's office. They called our Moms. My Mom got there first. Then a big black limousine pulled up in front of the school. Laurie Cabot got out, 6 feet tall, hair to her waist, long black robes, carrying a skull and a witch's staff."

"A skull?" I asked, incredulous.

"Yep," said Bob. "A skull...so anyways, my Mom started to speak up, but my Mom looked kinda normal. I took one look at Laurie Cabot, and said to my Mom, 'I think we better let Laurie Cabot handle this.' "

"So did Laurie Cabot 'handle' it?" I asked.

"Oh yeah," said Bob. "You shoulda seen the look on the principal's face." Bob made his eyes huge and terrified. "He was scared to death. They let us go home with just a warning."

I laughed, loudly. Bob laughed too. Passersby with zealously guarded cell phones looked over to see what all the happy ruckus was about. Bob and I laughed some more, while Bob shivered and I listened for the ambulance.

A few minutes, both the ambulance and the bus pulled up. Bob told me to go ahead and grab my bus, but I figured I should wait to make sure he was properly cared for. He wobbled badly getting on the ambulance, but the emergency worker didn't think he had hypothermia. She put a latex-gloved hand inside the top of this shirt to touch his bare skin. No explanation to Bob about what she was doing. I thought this was disrespectful. Bob was drunk, not comatose. But she said since his skin was warm, if he had hypothermia, it was mild. Bob looked a little annoyed by her hand on his chest, but I think he was mostly worried about dyin' at that moment, so he didn't say anything.

They had a heater in the ambulance and blasted it directly at Bob. I waited until they left in the direction of the Boston Medical Center. I hope the doctors there took good care of Bob. I hope someone gives Bob a proper winter coat. I hope Bob gets into detox, soon. And that it sticks this time.

Bob has some great stories to tell. I'm pretty sure that with the life he has lived, he has a couple dozen books inside of him desperate to get out.

Thanks Bob, for letting me sit next to you, and sharing your amazing story. I feel really lucky. Sorry for worrying about my stupid phone. Hope you are OK.

Cambridge Clones, Ghosts and Marching Bands

2009-10-11T22:20:00.000-04:00

OK, So I have tried, I really have, to be more open-minded about the clones who populate Cambridge, MA. I have gone out dancing at Cantab on Thursday night. As long as I focus on the Chicken Slacks (the Thursday band) and my dancing, I'm fine. But the minute a blond Cambridge clone hits me in the head with her elbow and I'm therefore forced to look around to let her know she might want to NOT do that again, to avoid a bar brawl with me, I am dismayed to find that yes of course, the bar is filled with Cambridge clones. It's like some kind of "Village of the Damned" nightmare, vacant eyes and empty gestures with a great soundtrack.

Today I went to Oktoberfest in Harvard Square. Also Honkfest, plenty of small marching bands playing some funky tunes. Pretty good musicians, and WOMEN playing trombone and drums. YAY! But.......somehow even the Allston hipsters strike me as clones, in their own hipster way. Cool funky clothes but no vibe, no feeling, no depth, nothing there.

Someone told me once that the strange thing about people in Boston (which includes Allston and Cambridge) is that, although one can see they are PHYSICALLY occupying space, they actually don't seem to BE HERE at all. So I guess the problem is I am trying to relate to ghosts.

But wait a minute. I do NOT mean to insult ghosts. I lived with one for 15 years in Montreal. He was a sad thin twenty-something man, dressed in WWI army fatigues. When I first saw him, I thought maybe the shrooms from my teenage years were kicking up some dust in my brain, so I didn't mention it to anyone. But then a roommate, somewhat irate, demanded to know why I had not informed her there was a ghost living in my flat. When she described him, yes, it was the same man. And guess what? My ghost friend had MORE depth, more vibe, more gravitas, more LIFE than most of the Cambridge clones. Wow. How weird is that.

Maybe I need to move to Mexico. The people down there have light in their eyes and magic is in the air. Oh, but the police are horrible...that's another story. For now I'm just thinking of a long trip on a train (I love trains, traveling on them, meeting people, watching the countryside roll past) to unknown parts. Even NYC. Just desperately need to feast my eyes on a few REAL people, talk to some really smart NYC cab driver about how the economy is going to totally tank in a few years (this really happened in 2005). And try to erase the image of the sad, empty-eyed Cambridge clones from my brain. Vampire energy suckers, that's what they are. And I am really sick and tired of having my energy drained by these vampire clones. Maybe I WILL start wearing a garlic necklace to protect myself. Or, just move the hell out of Cambridge. SOON!

Condom Companies Should Pay, Not Me!

2009-02-19T21:51:00.000-05:00

I hate anti-abortionists. I just had one sitting next to me in this coffee shop. After listening to her blow hot air for 45 minutes, blithely spewing how SHE would simply HAVE the baby, and go to grad school at Harvard anyway, how people who make mistakes should PAY, well, I just couldn't take it any more.

I stood up, on my way to get a 6 inch chicken submarine for supper, and I said, "I've done both, had a kid young, and had an abortion. And what I want to know is, where were all these "save the baby" people after she was born?"

That's right, not ONE of those hypocrites ever showed up at my door to say, "Good for you, you struggling, poverty-stricken single Mom! You kept those cells intact and had a baby without ANY resources to care for her. Well, let ME pay for those diapers, those school fees, her winter boots, her college tuition." Empathy for a group of cells is only good until the cells actually evolve from an embryo to a full-fledged human being. Then, it seems, the empathy and concern go out the window.

Why should I, and some human being who had NOTHING to do with anything, pay for a broken condom with a life of poverty--a child who will spend more time with babysitters than her mother, every heart's desire either impossible, or unbelievably difficult to realize? Give me a break! I didn't make that condom, and I WAS being responsible, using it. So I should pay for the poor quality plastic, the condom companies cutting corners, by being forced to raise a child?

The only people who really suffer from the efforts of the anti-abortionists are poor young women, often black or Latino, who don't have the means to fly up to Canada or New York city. Any comfy suburban girl will always have a choice, at least financially. So what is the idea here? That if you are poor and your boyfriend pressures you for unprotected sex to prove you love him, and you are only 15 or 16 and don't see this for the ruse it is, that you should PAY for your youth, your silly young heart, for affection from a ruthless boy who doesn't even love you, by being forced into a life of unbelievable hardship?

It is not easy being poor. I daresay most of the people screaming "Don't Kill the Baby" at Planned Parenthood have no idea of the hardship of simply being poor, never mind being poor and alone with a baby, child, teenager. In fact, most of the people I saw screaming at Planned Parenthood were 60 year old men, who will NEVER have any idea what it is like to go through such a painful decision and a difficult life.

I suggested to the young woman that she start by becoming a full-time nanny, and then try to imagine caring for these children with NO money, NO education, NO resources, NO help, and NO maturity. Then head on down to Downtown Crossing, Boston, and take a gander at the 15 year olds screaming at their kids, and try to convince yourself that this is the wonderful suburban outcome you imagine when you sit there judging people who had no other sin than to use an imperfect condom, listen to an abusive boyfriend, or maybe get drunk one night.

Man! Anti-abortionists are among the least compassionate people on the face of this earth.

One Smile Can Make You Feel So Much Better

2009-02-10T19:11:00.001-05:00

So I have been sitting here at Starbucks in the Garage in Harvard Square (not an actual garage, as far as I know, but maybe it was in a former life?), so depressed I couldn't find even a single song on the radio to make me feel better. Then a guy I've never met walks in and sits across from me. And miracle of miracles, for Cambridge (one of THE most unfriendly places on the face of this whole wide earth) he actually smiled at me. My goddess, I almost fainted. Maybe it was just the shock of it, but my mood slowly lifted, and now, thirty minutes after that smile, I can listen to Milli Vanilli without wanting to do myself or someone else in. Amazing what a simple smile will do.

I Want a Bail-Out!

2009-02-09T22:13:00.000-05:00

So yeah. I want a bail-out, too. Or at least, one of those one percent loans the banks are getting. That's right, one percent! The banks, which never in your lifetime or mine will EVER give you or me a one percent loan, are getting exactly that from US. By US, I mean, all the taxpayers whose pensions are being thrown at these greedy pigs who got us into this mess in the first place. Give me a break! We should be pursuing criminal charges against these con-artists, and that includes Bush and Cheney, who would like to quietly go away and hide with all the billions they stole from US taxpayers. How did they do it? Branch companies under Halliburton, the biggest umbrella corporation in the world (and Cheney's baby), got no-bid contracts to "rebuild" Iraq after bombing it to smithereens. They also inflated prices (who wouldn't, when there is no chance of any competition?) on everything from labor to hammers. So who pays now? We do! We are being told to tighten our belts--buy just ONE rose for Valentine's Day, and spread the petals around (no kidding, I saw this on a "news" item!) the dinner table, while you serve boxed macaroni and cheese. Meanwhile these thieves have absconded with money earned by our blood, sweat and tears. They should be prosecuted like any normal criminal, their assets frozen, and eventually, these billions put back into the US economy--health, education, social services, would be a good start. If you stole one loaf of bread for a hungry family, you would be prosecuted to the full extent of the law. Yet these greedy criminals and war-mongers (convenient way to make a BUNCH of money!) can rob billions and apparently, get away with it. TIME FOR A CHANGE!!!!!

Neysa Malone is AMAZING!

2009-01-19T00:32:00.000-05:00

So yeah, Neysa Malone is my daughter--there's the disclaimer. She's a singer-songwriter, slogging it out in NYC. Day after dismal or sunny day, she gets up, writes her songs, finds dancers for her music video, heads over to a studio to tweak production on her latest song, or heads to the subway (and sometimes Union Square) to perform. Yes, she's a busker, for now.

She's also a former Berklee College of Music scholarship recipient. She's an invited member of SESAC. She has worked with some pretty famous people, including a producer who was Joss Stone's former musical director. Neysa fronted a back-up band for a couple years in NYC, performing her own originals at the Knitting Factory, Joe's Pub, Arlene's Grocery and S.O.B.'s, among other venues. Her band included a keyboard player and drummer who have gone on to work with Beyonce's all-girl band.

But the people who put money in her bucket don't know this. Neither do the people who take it upon themselves to spew their bad mood or worse day in vomitous words on the internet. On the other hand, the many MANY people who have stopped, emailed her, become a MySpace friend, just to let her know how she brightened their day, and how talented she is, also don't know anything of her background. They just like her, a lot. And that says everything.

Still, I don't know how she does it, honestly. I have a degree in music. I've performed in my life, but quite frankly I just don't have a thick skin. Lousy family background, zero support, in my case. Zero support coupled with constant put-downs doesn't make for a thick skin. I made a lot of mistakes raising my daughter, some like most people do, others unique just to me, or at least only a few of us, I'd guess! But I DID encourage her a LOT with her dreams.

So Neysa, my beautiful talented daughter heads out to the subway. She descends into the bowels of the earth, into the stench and smoke, the grime and dust, the screeching brakes, hauling her heavy amp and her simple bucket. She plugs in her MP3 player and, head held high, sings Madonna tunes, or her own originals.

Some days she makes bunches of money. Others, not so much. She started busking because she had no means to pay a back-up band. And understandably, I guess, people in NYC want money up front. And she needed to perform, needed to reach out. She asked me if I thought it was a bad idea. I said no--many musicians have busked, including Tracy Chapman, Beck, Bob Dylan, Eric Clapton. Not bad company.

I do wish she had more chance to perform her own originals (and in a clean, fume-free environment). But she says (and she is probably right) that in the subway, it's a quick fix, and a little uplifting while waiting three minutes for the train, that people need. And that's what she gives them. Despite her own struggles, her periods of discouragement, Neysa Malone still has something to share, something to give. That's an amazing spirit, and it should be honored and cherished. And I do. Hats off to you, honey! You're doing great! And I love you with all my heart.

My Therapist Hates Me

2008-10-03T01:04:00.000-04:00

So out of desperation, I actually PAY someone to listen to me, and she is SUPPOSED to at least pretend to like me and to want to help. But yesterday when I went in for my weekly session, I swear she sneered at me! Well yes, I was being very snarky with her, disagreeing energetically with her stance on psychotropic drugs. She said, "Well, the research says therapy combined with prescription drugs works best." I asked (and yes, I was angry), "And WHO conducted this so-called research? The DRUG companies?" She said she didn't know. I said, "Follow the money, that will tell you everything you need to know." And then she sneered.

I pointed out that the U.S. flooded Iraq with Prozac almost immediately after invading that country. I said to her, "If that doesn't tell you a WHOLE LOT about the purpose of this drug, I don't know what will."

On another tangent (or was it?), I told her I am bloody sick and tired of being afraid of men (as in psychotic males, who are far too numerous in this crazy world), and that I am going to arm myself. She flinched. I went on to (timidly? maybe I am wimping out) own up that I hate guns, so I would probably just buy some legal keychain pepper spray.

But my grandmother bought a gun when she was in her late 70's, and she used it, and I don't blame her. Someone broke into her house in Indianapolis, and robbed her. So she bought a gun. When, as she expected, the guy returned for another take a couple months later, she was ready. She shot him. He survived, but you can bet he never came back to her house again.

That sounds so tough, and so American, in a way that I hate. But I also HATE being afraid of psychopaths!

Each Ending is a New Ending

2007-06-11T16:33:00.000-04:00

I was just checking GreenSingles, thinking, hmmm...well, maybe...you never know....could be time to finally meet my true love, kindred spirit, soulmate, excellent dissenter. And some guy, who I shall NOT contact, had headed his profile with: "Each Ending is a New Beginning", but I READ it as "Each Ending is a New Ending". And I had to laugh. Maybe that is true.

Sure, when one door closes, another opens, but the fact often remains that the old door is, nonetheless CLOSED. And maybe a new beginning will follow an ending, but still, that ending is ENDED.

So I write this and then I think this is such a fabulous and funny idea, that someone is sure to steal it. Fortunately no has yet read my blog, as far as I know, (hah! therein lies the rub!) so I don't think I am in much danger of that to date. But I HAVE encountered thieves in my life: thieves of the heart, of ideas, of inspiration, of energy. I am doing my best to stay away from them these days, but thieves have a way of popping up in the most unlikely places.

So hey, thieves! Stay out of my blog!

This is not a porn blog, by the way

2007-05-23T01:05:00.000-04:00

Of course, I just discovered that there is at least one other "Georgia's Peach" blog. It is a porn blog. This is not a porn blog. So if you are seeking a place to post your icky dirty thoughts, Google "Georgia's Peach Porn Blog". I am sure that other "Georgia's Peach", who is probably some gnarly stinky bewhiskered and bewhiskied skinny guy living in a cabin in West Virginia, will be delighted to receive your comments.

I won't.

Welcome to Georgia's Peach

2007-05-23T01:02:00.000-04:00

At the moment, this blog has no purpose at all, other than an opportunity for me to express my confusion, frustration, happiness, joy, sadness, anger, disgust, angst, nightmares, dreams, worries, peaceful moments, loves, hates and other sundry concerns.

Eventually maybe some "higher purpose" will reveal itself. But I wouldn't count on it.