Saturday, May 31, 2003

Work, work, work, ad infinitum ... I'm stuck here at work on a Saturday night and it sucks! But it pays the bills - and I've plenty of those. But at least I get a few moments to play about like these few moments here, adding a bit of salt and pepper to my blog site. Hope all is well with everyone in cyberspace (except for you kiddie porn freaks - may you burst into flames and burn alive!) I'm hiding behind a bank of computers in a cubicle right now but I can hear the mumblings of my colleagues and I'm sure they're looking for me, so I'll keep this brief (that's a relief, eh?).
So, Iraq has turned into the albatross many suggested it would be once we dispatched Saddam and his henchmen. Now we're the "imperialists" of lore, the bully-power that third world nations have called us for decades. I guess we just got tired of not living up to the hype.
And so it goes.
Now I simply must check on the "In box" to see if I have pages to edit. Peace on you and yours.

Wednesday, May 21, 2003

Oh no! I do believe we've entered the land of fiction - where BIG BROTHER IS WATCHING! Short and not-so-sweet: I cannot believe (or, yes I can believe) that Bush and his cronies are asking that a ban on low-yield nuclear weapons be lifted by the international community so we can blow people up who've burrowed deep into the earth to hide. Incredible! The scientist who presented the administration's point of view said that low-yield weapons could be safely deployed in certain circumstances and that it would allow the U.S. military greater efficacy in its effort to uproot terrorists or tyrants like Saddam Hussein (didn't we just kick his butt?).
Now the opposing view is that nuclear weapons are 'dirty' no matter what anyone says, and that low-yield does not mean no yield in terms of nuclear fallout, civilian casualties and land masses contaminated for thousands of years ... well, perhaps hundreds, but for a long, long time.
I tell you, I believe we're dealing with a megalomaniac in GW and his thirst for power is growing unquenchable. I can hear the military analysts telling him "no, we can blow a hole in the earth deep enough to get at these guys without causing too much harm to the surrounding region." I imagine Bush envisions himself as a pragmatist and a realist but I think he's just plain nuts if he buys the argument that nuclear - low-yield or not - is a good thing for the United States to put in its arsenal of conventional warfare weaponry. Aaargh!

Thursday, May 15, 2003

Too blue 4U It's Thursday night and the moon is peeking out from behind the earth's shadow. Yea, we had a view of the lunar eclipse up here in the Panhandle, though clouds were lurking widely across the skies. I don't get too excited by lunar eclipses since all that happens is the night gets a bit darker. I suppose when the moon reappears it is spectacular, but I'm inside and can't see it now so, eh, so what.
Go San Antonio Spurs! Way to go tonight. Whipping up some big-hurt for the LA Lakers on LA's home turf. I loved it! And to make it a blowout besides is icing on the cake. Bye-bye LA. Is the dynasty over? We'll see. I'd like to see the Spurs go all the way in the NBA this year before "The Admiral" hangs it up and moves on to whatever future life he plans to lead. Yea!
Well, crazy news in the world flowing in from all points and I had to look at most of it, per usual. What's up with the new tongue-splitting craze? That's delirious if you ask me. Really too strange to grok. Why would someone want to mutilate their body anyway? Well, I've heard the riffs about self-realization, rebellion and trying to hack out a niche on the "uniqueness scale," but none of it jibes for me. Just plain idiotic, that's what I think.
And now for a word from our sponsors: "Life is short and none too sweet, so you'd better learn to keep your feet, kill your meat and hoe your row."
My back is hurting loudly right now. Too much sitting on my ass in front of a computer screen tonight, but that's my life.
I was informed I wouldn't receive a raise this year (at work) because I already make more than anyone else on the copy desk except for the lead dog and his second in command. What a lame explanation. Fact is, we just lost a $1.3 million per year account (Dillard's) and the newspaper biz is hurting terribly from cost increases and falling revenues. But we still turn a tidy profit. It's just that most of it lands in the pockets of the "family," meaning the owner and his 20 children and grandchildren. They all live like kings, queens and princes while we foot soldiers dig out worms for dinner and continue to plow the rows in the field, so to speak.
Pisses me off! But there it is. There ain't no justice in this world and I've resolved to accept the fact and stop bemoaning my fate.
Not a lot I can do about ownership anyway, so fuggit.
It's about 11:05 p.m. and I'll be going over to D's in about 20 minutes to see if I can't ease my mind a little while I work on her back muscles. God, it's hot tonight. It feels like it's still about 80 degrees outside and the weather gurus are saying we're in for some violent weather in the next 24, but that's a crapshoot at best.
Speaking of "24," I still love that show. It's got a wide range of imaginative manuevers that keep me enthralled, and the production values are high enough to entertain.
I may actually go see the "The Matrix - Reloaded" this weekend. I hope so. If I have any cash left after paying the wolf pack I definitely will drop a few bucks on a matinee. It looks as good or better than the first, and Ioved that!
That's all, that's it, I'm out.
Have a wonderful weekend if you can. Ciao.

Saturday, May 10, 2003

"We are responsible ..." We've got to deal with the problems of Iraq now that we've conquered it, according to retired Air Force Col. Sam Gardner. And he's right, of course, but what a strange arrangement. What vision compelled us to assume the care and nurture of a nation so foreign to our own? Do we truly believe that we have the vision to embrace a whole culture and direct its destiny? Col. Gardner talked about fixing the infrastructure of Iraq, specifically, the water system, which has either been blasted to bits or never existed in some towns. But now we Americans (and Brits and, to some baffling extent, the Spaniards) are on the hook for creating a better world for the Iraqi people. How is it that those folks got so lucky as to get a blank check from the United States? How is it that the Iraqi nation finds itself at the center the world's collective focus? How very important Iraqis must be feeling today, I suppose. Important, and helpless, I suspect.
But we've taken the regime and, therefore, the nation, and now we get the blessed responsiblity of paying the bills, building the houses, turning on the lights and feeding the hungry. And what does it mean to me, sitting here in the northwest corner of Texas, amid the noises of early morning activities like the thunder of trash bins being emptied into grumbling trash trucks, the birds twittering in the trees, and the faint hum of artificial power, electric power, that hangs in the air and permeates my very bones? What indeed?
The dogs are barking their usual "woof, woof, woof, WOOF, WOOF!" The slither of rubber tires hisses on the streets and the radio-computer opens my ears to Los Angeles and the world, and my little world is a messy, frustrating struggle to survive the next 24 hours, both physically and mentally. How will the Iraqis feel living in my world? How would I feel living in theirs? Differently, I'm sure.
I sit here in front of a little iMac and type these words, which will, in turn, be electrically imprinted in servers somewhere far from here and made available to anyone who can find the key to these Web pages. What would a typical Iraqi think of a world in which one can reach out into the ether and 'touch' someone 10,000 miles away in the time it takes for a single heartbeat?
No, this is not reality and the situation in Iraq is as much a scene from "The Wizard of Oz" as it is a nightmare I had 20 years ago, or last night, for that matter. We're going to introduce democracy to a nation of people who've been living under a feudal system for thousands of years. How very audacious of us, I think. I am weirdly bemused by the notion. I am also overwhelmed by the prospect of our imperialistic impulses bursting forth in full flower, fueled by the militaristic self-image we're cultivating through our climb to the top of the world-powers ladder.
And gypsy music floats through the speakers, soothing my jangled nerves. What is culture, and how must it evolve if not freely and through the eyes of a single human being? We live in our tiny worlds of jobs, bills, stuff and things, and bear the burden of abundance and the weight of broken dreams. How can one be both rich and starving from poverty? Quite naturally, I tell you. My inner self, my 'soul,' if you will, is the most important aspect of my life and its true measure of my place in this world. But when its invisible voice is stifled or distracted by cares for the grasping at 'things,' by fear propelled by laws that evoke resentment, by compulsions that inevitably run me smack into a proverbial wall, then I am both rich and impoverished. I guess it's the difference between potential and actualization. Reality and fantasy, hunger and a full stomach. The human condition is not universal. Rather it's unique to the human being experiencing his or her condition, and that single 'condition' feeds and fuels the enormous engine called humanity.
What the hell is this guy talking about? That's what I imagine you're thinking right now, if you've gotten this far, and I assure you, it's nothing at all. Simply a brain taking stock of its perceptions and noting its response to those tendrils of sensation and signals that are available to it. I'm asking myself, what are 'we' doing – when I really mean what am I doing. I'm asking myself, what's the plan, the vision, the hoped-for outcome of the nation's incursion into Iraq, and I'm unable to answer with any degree of satisfaction or clear reason. And this bothers me. I mean I can barely manage my singularity, my little world, and I cannot imagine trying to assume the management of yours as well. Perhaps that is my shortcoming. Perhaps not. It may be that we are meant to struggle (I feel this is true) to become what our potential promises is possible. But I find it implausible that I am meant to take the reins of the thoughts, dreams and hopes of another and manuever two 'minds' through the road of life, at least not with any honest ambition for unanimity. Simply put, I think we've got a problem in Iraq and it's solution does not lie within our reach, unless the solution encompasses the hopes and dreams of the Iraqi people. And what do we, as a nation, know about Iraqi hopes and dreams? For myself, the answer is, not much.
So now what? I suspect that question is at the forefront of every administrator in this administration's cache of leaders. Now what? It seems to me that we've realized the metaphor of the dog that caught the car and now wonders what to do with it. Which is not to say that there is no solution, because I believe every problem has a solution. It's just that many solutions come with great pain and Herculian effort. And I wonder if we've chosen our battle wisely.
That said, Happy Mother's Day!

Saturday, May 03, 2003

Being there before you arrive ... I'm going to rush to work here in a few minutes but I thought, "Jeez, I have to post something on my BLOG before I go." And so I go.
It's a muggy, hot Saturday in the great expanse of West Texas, also known as the Rain-Dust Region. And I mean it literally rains mud here on certain days. Odd, really.
But that aside, it's time to run. Hope your day is serene, slow-moving and fulfilling.
May all your dreams come true.

Thursday, May 01, 2003

Love is a many splintered thing. Sleeping deeply is so nice. An experience that I frequently forego but one I find delicious when I'm able to fall into that abyss of dreams and subconscious swimming.
But at 5 a.m. I was rudely awakened by D, frantically hissing, "Get out of the room! Now! I need some privacy."
Bleary-eyed and somewhat groggy I complied. I left the room and went into the garage where we have a tiny chair-and-TV setup and lit a smoke and waited. And waited. And waited.
By 5:30 a.m. I was wondering if D had forgotten me so I went inside to check. But nooooo. She was hanging out the bathroom window smoking. "I still need some privacy," she said. "OK, but please don't fall asleep and forget me," I answered. And back to the garage I went.
By 5:50 a.m. I figured I could go back inside and check and what do I see? D asleep in bed, snoring blissfully.
And so I climbed back into the sheets and checked the alarm to make sure it was set for 6:40 a.m. It was. And at exactly 6:42 a.m. I walked out the door to my car and drove to my abode – this single room in the back of a house on 9th Street.
And so it goes.
The rest of my day will be spent muddling through words, images and clock-watching through foggy eyes and even foggier brain cells. Ain't life grand.