October 6, 2007 archive

Yes, indeed.  It’s the single most important issue of the campaign!  It’s the single most sought after endorsement of the year!  It’s the question of the ages: Who Would Flying Spaghetti Monster Vote For?

Follow his noodly appendage below the break!

I love being in the woods, always have.  There is something peaceful and natural breathing the fresh pine scented air of a wooded area.  My family has been content with simple things in life, one of those being walking around the local wooded area around our suburban water supply to collect pine cones for Christmas wreathes.  In this post 911 world though one year we were kicked out.
It was, we were told, a matter of “National Security”, by some idiot employee of (actually I have no friggin idea and he did not identify himself).  We were just “not allowed” to be there.  Somehow this strikes me as odd. 

As a resident of the community and recipient of the water therein contained in said water supply, did they not think said resident, and drinker of said water, would not report to appropriate authorities the pollution of previously stated water supply by turban wearing swarthy looking middle-eastern bearded men?
I then started my blogging over at Hannity.com with this incident.  I was dutifully told over there that collecting pine cones was not a specifically guaranteed Consitutional right.  I then related the incident of getting forever banned in under 48 hours from Hannity.com to dailykos.

Now though I have a one year old grandson who delightfully extends his arms everytime he sees me.  I showed him my wonder of the woods on a magical 4 wheeler ride this summer when we went to our vacation/potential survialist spot camping trip.  He now looks at me and says Vroom, Vroom as he asks me for a little fun, a little enjoyment in life.  He seeks the bonding with another human who knows how to love him and unconditionally does.  He finds it refreshing and different from his parents who are caught up mostly in the Satan inspired propaganda ministry know collectively as “American media” and also the collective soap opera foisted upon the twenty somethings of the current cannon fodder generation.

I want to show him the simpler joys in life, like collecting pine cones for Christmas wreathes but in teaching him that I have to show him also the Satanic side of humanity I’ve come to see all too clearly.
The “post 911 world”, the fallacy of a global war on “terra”.  In time I’ll have to explain why we could not go to the “old” location where there are lots of pine cones instead of this new place where the pine trees are much smaller.

His parents are basically tradesman types so I get to explain to him what Machiavellian really means.  That duty and responsibility allows me to get up in the morning even when I see the entire world as totally insane.  Should I also attempt to assess his capacity and willingness to accept truth or should I leave it up to the Matrix and let him decide for himself to fight Agent Smith or take the blue pill and lead the usual pod person life.

I happen to think he’s got the spirit, if he can pick me out of a crowd and can hold on to a wonderful memory two months ago as a one year old, he has my support.  Once I pick him up, it’s just about impossible to put him down.

I wish to apologize, funketeers, for completely funkin’ forgettin’ about this last week. Apparently, I have faults, defects and shortcomings.
But hope is in the house, as the vibes flow through.
Funk not only moves, it can remove, dig?
The desired effect is what you get when you improve your interplanetary Funksmanship.

Mo’ flow below the funkin’ fold.

Walking down Lexington Avenue in the 20s with my teenaged niece, it was in the mid-80’s, a homeless man jumped in front of us and yelled out with a fierce look on his face “HOMELESS!”  Not missing a beat, I shouted back “SAGITTARIUS!”  He looked bewildered and walked away.  My niece thought I was cool.

Some time in the 80’s, if I recall correctly, they changed the commitment laws, folks couldn’t be forced into mental institutions any more, so many were released.  I remember the Big Apple when the streets were lined with homeless people, sure not all of them were mentally ill, but plenty were.

Senior year in high school, in the midwest, I volunteered for a summer as a candy striper at the county mental institution — I was put to work with the occupational therapists in the chronic ward.

I read some of the case histories, people who were mentally retarded being put away and after long years they became psychotic as well.  One day during the summer they had a fire drill — I got separated from the staff and ended up milling about with the folks from the locked ward — none of them made me feel threatened, on the contrary, being among them I felt as though I were the odd woman out, and perhaps I should start babbling and carrying on as the normal thing to do.

what’s the point in trying to fit in? is there a point?