Welcome to the Slow Lane

Not Approved by Joan Rivers

Betty Davis (I think):  "Old Age ain't for sissies."  No, no, I'm not harping on frailties, ailments, bionics and meds associated with the golden years.**  My friend, Rita, says at this stage we're all defective.  True enough, and by now, if you're lucky, you have the maturity to know.......well, that you're mature.   Hey, it's not that bad. 

I have to admit the years on the cusp were pretty tough.  But after passing the what-happened-to-me stage, old age is kinda refreshing.  I mean mostly you don't have to do anything you don't want.  You can, within reason, defy your doctor, doctors having become glorified mechanics.  No, I'm not doing that damn test!    

It's silly, really, the dread of aging, the lack of respect for the elderly in our ociety.  Not so with Native Americans, Mexican and Turkish people.  They like old people.  Mexican men love to flirt with old ladies and old ladies, mostly deprived of this pleasure, love Mexican men. 

Being an old lady is pretty good these days because you can live in your jeans, let your hair grow as long as you like.  You can look like a witch and pretty much fit in.   Some of your friends are geezers but mostly they're not.  If you can't avoid these folks, you can always turn off your hearing aids.  Then there's the type who's never been young.  I avoid those, too.

Anyhow, seems to me the joke's on those who believe they'll never grow old.  Do they know the alternative? 

Once you realize you're okay, even though less ravishing and a little forgetful, life in the slow lane ain't that bad.  Besides can you imagine the time, money, not to mention pain, a Joan Rivers type goes through?  Do her eyes close when she sleeps?   Liberace's, so they say, did not.


**Very golden, indeed, for Big Pharm


Bumper Shockers!

With the exception of one tooth, in spite of advancing age, all my body parts remain intact.  The remaining teeth require the usual yearly scraping and scratching.  Your teeth are looking great!  Yeah, what's left of 'em, I'm thinking as I glance up at the hygienist.  Yipe!  She looks like a giant insect with those black magnifiers stuck on her glasses.  All the better to clean you, my dears.  

This visit netted me a nice bonus and I'm not talking about the toothbrush my toothy, smiley dentist gives away.  (Formerly his name was engraved on the handle, but I guess austerity has drilled into the dental profession.)  Anyhow, the bonus had nothing to do with teeth, etc.  It was a beat-up pickup truck in the parking lot.  Are you kidding me?  Get a life!

Hold on a minute.  Withold judment till your read further.  It was bumper stickers, some locals would say, from hell.  For instance:   

"Jesus called; he wants his religion back."   Don't you love it? "

"Doing my part to piss off the religous right."  You go girl! 

And then, "Labor movement, the people who brought you the weekend."

 "Corporate fathers blame welfare mothers."  Amen! 

"Feminism is the radical notion that women are people." 

And finally, "Religion is what keeps the poor from murdering the rich."

Are these great or what?  Local license plate!  Who'd expect these pearls of wisdom right here in a slow lane parking lot.  All is not lost.   

Dear Senator

I'm thinking about a strategy to preserve my mental health.  At one time, it seemed best to ignore TV news, it mostly being spun left or right, never down the middle.  But even if you're old and live in the slow lane, who wants to appear more senile than necessary?   It can be dangerous if you don't watch news.  "Oh, oh!  Must be the big A.  She thinks Benghazi is a liniment."  When you watch the news with your brain engaged, it's nothing but crazy.  Either laugh-out-loud crazy or smoke-coming-out-your-ears crazy.

The smoke.....etc. type is where my strategy comes in.  I'm going to store a kind of form letter in my documents file.  I'll tweak it, of course, to meet the situation.  I'll send hard copy; e-mail and phone messages are too easily ignored or deleted.  Call me nuts, but a real letter signed by a real person no matter how shaky the signature will be noticed by somebody.  Plus it feels soooooo good dropping that letter in the mailbox.  Here's an exapmple: 

Dear Senator _____________:  

Recently, on _____________ you stated that the moon is made of yellow cheese and that everyone knows it is not green.  You intend to launch an investigation to discover just who the culprit is that started this disturbing rumor.  It's bound to be a liberal conspirancy.     

Now, Senator, everyone, including elected officials, is allowed freedom of expression no matter who's paying for it.  Even so, shaking your fist and sputtering curse words under your breath about yellow cheese does not make a good impression.  And really, you should make an effort to support your viewpoint with something better than quotes from Lox Network Entertainment News. 

I sympathize with the people of __________________ who elected you.  Your rantings about yellow cheese go directly against their wishes.  The majority believes in green cheese. Your conduct is embarrassing and insulting.  A statesman looks to serve the people.  Not just the ones who go for yellow cheese.

Why not give the American people a break?  Remember the word compromise?  It's not a dirty word.  Work together a little.  If you mix yellow cheese with green, you're gonna end up with  blue cheese.  Now that roques!

Yours truly,




Dali Llama, Travel, Camera ID

TV news this morning:

Weather:  Tornados, tornados tornados!  Unclement on steroids.  Not to make light of misfortune, but the little OK grannie who lost her pickup truck was adorable.  A Kansas man was stoic, "Well, this is Kansas."  We all know what happened to Dorothy.  She, too, fell victim to a weather hoax.**

Travel:  Airlines consider eliminating one pilot in the cockpit.  A money-saver and allows more room for hanky-panky.  Why not consider the drone system, a short hop from one pilot to none.  Double the money saved and total elimination of cockpit hanky-panky. 

Camera Identification:  Not only are we stalked by the internet, a camera ID system now stalks us on the street and in places of business.  So?  It doesn't just see us, it recognizes who we are. We are no longer anonymous. It knows what we buy, what we eat!  It knows if we're cheating and who we're cheating with.  Think of the private detectives thrown out of work!  Besides that, it makes scratching and picking pretty risky.   

Europe has made this tracking illegal without consent of the trackee.  I doubt any such regulation happens in the US.  After, all there's nothing specific to camera ID in the Constitution.  I don't know about you, but this camera ID stuff creeps me out.

Dali Llama attracts 15,000 in Louisville:  (I think it's same to assume Mitch McConnell was not in attendance.)  Hundreds, if not thousands of KY christian conservative preachers have just been handed next Sunday's Bible thumper.   Compassion!  Why that's another one of those  unAmerican "c" words like compromise.  His holiness was adorable in a maroon eye shade matching his robe.  Weak eyes, you know, but strong heart.

From the slow lane, I hope your heart is filled with compassion.  It's good for your well-being and has no calories.

** There is nothing even vaguely amusing about the Moore, OK, tornado devestation that happened after this writing.  My heart is filled with compassion for victims and their families.           




Obama Besmirches Motherhood

Attention, rhymes-with-lox network!  I've got a great Mother's Day story involving an alarming statistic.  Birthrate in America has dropped from 2.1 child per family to a mere 1.9!

On average, that might not sound like a whole lot, but think about it.  Multiply those decimal points by families and thats a lot of slippage.  We all know who births the most kids in this country and they're not slowing down. 

It doesn't take a rocket scientist to see the Obama administration is directly responsible for this alarming decline in red-blooded Americans. Thanks to them, over-the-counter morning after pills are available to any harlot, hussy, or thirteen year old girl stumbling into the drug store.  Administration officials have scoffed publicly at the sanctity of life created by rape!  Planned Parenthood is conspiracy aimed right between the uh........eyes of white Christians.  Stop abortion and watch that birthrate climb right back up where God wants it.     

Yes, the Obama administration has besmirched motherhood by its policies.  But Barrack Obama, himself, is guilty as well.  He belongs to the demographic producing the most kids and he's over the average. 

Perfect for rhymes-with-lox news!  Obama responsibility for the falling birthrate but damned cause he has too many kids.  Am I good or what?  I'm waiting for the call


Bob Dylan

Bob Dylan hits the slow lane.  Oh, no, he's not in the slow lane, but comes to the slow lane, the little college town I call home.  Wow!  Never mind the concert looked like an AARP convention.  Wow!  Two hours non-stop Dylan and his Band; we geezers were rockin'.  

Quite a few elderly hippies crawled out of the woodwork, one or two leaning on canes.  Old roadies, tee's stretched tight over no-longer-slim midsections strutted among the crowd.  (Alas, my beloved Dylan tee remained at home; either you breathe or you don't.)  Spoted no ex-groupies, but they were probably there.

Mr. Dylan was in much better voice.  Did he give up smokes as well as hat, pencil mustache and string tie, deletions all to the good.  Those curls should not be hidden.  Black suit trimmed oddly with white and lots of brass buttons.  It looked....... comfortable.

Last time I saw him in Louisville, it was pretty obvious the band was in a snit.  The mood was awful as well as the music.  But last week, they seemed happy as clams.  Bob smiled his broad smile a few times, even danced around a bit though rhythmic movement was never his strong point.  Still it was fun to see.

Oscar, the Academy Award, was perched, as usual, on his pedestal stage right.  Though wearing Mardi Gras beads, he seemed no worse for wear. 

The music you say?  Splendid!  Truthfully, some songs weren't immediately recognized, the arrangements being different.  Mr. Dylan likes to mix it up.  Still I loved it.  There were jazzy sounds and blues, occasional lyrical melodies, almost romantic.  Not just the wall of sound.  It was fun and refreshing.  He played a lot of killer keyboard.

Afterward, disciples near the parking areas handed out A Twelve Tribes Freepaper, a kind of Jewish version of the familiar Jehovah Witness Watchtower (not to confused with "All Along the Watchtower.")  Anyhow, I took one; it's better than the Watchtower.

I still can't believe it.  Bob Dylan in the slow lane!



Color of the Year!

Stand by, folks.  Pantone,  color king of the world, has spoken.  Like it or not, Emerald, Pantone 17-5641, is the "in" color.  Tee shirts, scarfs, kitchen towels, living space, tea kettles, prom dresses, floral design, you name it, PMS emerald rules.  Not to be indelicate, but formerly PMS conjured colors such as gray, black or hideous blue. 

Times change as well as bodies, and PMS (Pantone Matching System) now dominates the world's colors.  About the same time Sailor Jerry (see below) was perfecting his secret and fabulous skin art colors, Pantone was doing the same for most everything else: dyes, paint, printing ink.  Ultimately, a fan deck of 2000 little cardboard color swatches made the world a better place. Anything and everything could be color matched. Amazing!

The Pantone folks, every year, select the color at secret European meetings.  Folks from all over the world put in their two-cents' worth.  This is not a joke; much care goes into the selection.  It reflects a color the conventioneers deem most beneficial to the world.   

For instance, 2000 was Cerulean, a kind of la-la land blue many lived in, grateful the world did not implode at the turn of the century.  2001 was fuschia rose, to energize our movement into the 21st Century.  Sadly, the color provided jokesters with fodder.  You know, the airport color codes designed to scare the bejesus out of travelers:  fuschia the off-the-chart warning.  2002, true red.  What can I say?  Rattling of sabers, off to bloody war.

Looking through past colors of the year charts, I do remember their dominance.  Never had a clue as to why their prevalence.  The question arises, which comes first, the color or the mood?  (Conspiracy theorists, take note.)  

This year's emerald was selected for the qualities of serentiy and harmony blended in the tones of its creation.  It also suggests the green movement.  Yes, a gorgeous shade. But so was the Emerald Palace of Oz.  

For you fashion designers and decorators out there, the Bible of Color, Pantone View, is availablefor a mere $750.  They don't have it on Amazon.

Twilight Zone Day

If you're really old and live in the slow lane, you probably remember the olden days and Sunday night TV ventures into Rod Serling's Twilight Zone. ( If not, check Wikipedia).    

I think celebrating this day is spot on. [Eerie music and deep tones of Rod Serling  "The Twilight Zone, a place where good and evil mix, and the world is wrapped in gray vapor.]  Mark Sanford, a SC governor, needing to excape official duties for a few days, sets out to backpack the Applachian Trail.  First night out, he dreams of Argentina and the arms of a beatiful woman, not his wife.  He awakens and mysteriously his dream has come true!  The world somehow understands his predicament and he wins his next election. A veil of tiny, shimmering elephants surrounds him.  He smiles.  "I feel Grace," he says.  

[Eerie music and the deep tones of Rod Serling.  The Twilight Zone, a place of reversals.  Cowards are revered and elected to office. The cries of the people are soundless. Yellow is the color of choice.]  An organization, the National Rifle Association, meets to celebrate recent victories. Amid cheering crowd, a giant yellow banner is raised on high.  More Guns for America!   "More guns! "More guns!" roars the crowd.  Finally, quieting the crowd, the leader declares, "A bleeding America needs more guns to curb the rampant violence!" (cheers) " And we must prepare for the coming government insurgency!  Arm yourselves to protect your home, your family, your guns!  Go forth and do it."  Just then, every US power grid fails.  An omimous darkness covers the continent.  All manufacturing, including gun factories, screeches to a halt.  Half a world away, little yellow hackers laugh hysterially.  They have done the impossible.  They have made guns obsolete.      

The Greatest Nation

Boston.  How can this happen in the greatest nation on earth?  For starters evil-doers, whatever nationality or rationale, know the vast underbelly of the US is vulnerable.  Rhetoric and breast-beating cannot erase the fact.  Citizens armed to the teeth with assault weapons, revolvers, etc., will fix the problem?  Not likely, but  increased numbers of the paranoid will be killing and maiming one another on the midnight bathroom call.

This is no time for silliness!   I'm serious.  I love my country.  But how alarming and painful to watch as the "greatest nation" slips from it's pedestal!  

Myriad opinion polls check constantly and report attitudes and wishes of citizens.  As far as I can see, such statistics prove only that Washington will do as it damn well pleases.  A bone is tossed every so often.  But what can we expect when the congress has become a proving ground for future lobbyists, the choice vocation upon leaving office?

A great nation takes care of it's own.  It desires safety nets for the elderly, the poor, the children.  It keeps promises to the military and refuses to sacrificeneeds of the elderly and poor.  It wants decent, increasing wages for its workers.  It finds a 26% poverty rate unacceptable.  It wants infrastructure and good education.  Global warming?  Wouldn't it make sense to be a part of a solution rather than the problem.  Oh yes, a great nation collects taxes to do these things.

A great nation makes peace not war.   It does not shoot from the hip nor does it tolerate torture.  Was any nation ever bankrupted by waging peace? 

A great nation focuses upon needs and wishes of the people, not upon those of the corporate world.  Presently, our democracy seems segueing to oligarchy. Those elected officials vowing to hamstring government and President are nothing less than traitors.  Likewise, those swearing alegiance to stripping government to the bone. 

You over-simplify!  Maybe.  But though our country's claim to greatness is ragged round the edges in need of repair, our people remain magnificent.  

What better proof than  heroism, generosity, nation-wide support rising in the smoke of Boston explosions.         


DST, Sailor Jerry, Guns

April 24, 2013 - The sorrowful, shameful events last week--what can you do except weep and gnash your teeth?  Still, there remains one constant, local news goofy as ever. 

Missouri proposes to stay permanently on Daylight Savings Time, that is (and here's the kicker) if 19 other states decide to do so.  Nineteen other states!  Where do they come up with this stuff?  That's as far as they can count using fingers and toes? 

Oh yes, they push to make it illegal to reval names of folks licensed to carry concealed weapons. What's the point of the license?   Does Stalker Jones own a weapon? Sorry Ma'am, that's confidential information.   Bear in mind this is homeland to the "legitimate rape" senator who thankfully was defeated although he, too, is making noises.  Think Spitzer, Sanford, Weiner, etc.  "My bad," a chocked sob, wait a couple of months and you're good to go.

But let me tell you about my tatoo.  It has nothing to do with local news.  Still, it's possible I'm the oldest living woman with a tatt from the needle of the famous Sailor Jerry.  When I got the toe flower a couple of years before his death, I hadn't a clue.  No idea of his prominence in the field of skin art till I saw a Sailor Jerry Rum ad a couple of days ago.  This ad led me to Wikipedia where I became enlightened.    

 Sailor Jerry, I knew, moonlighted as talk show host in Honolulu.  He ranted and raved about communists and their various conspiricies.  Kind of like socialist blather from present day cable news that rhymes with lox, the network devoted to red herrings and fishy experts.

Though he's been gone for 40 years, his disciples, distillors of Sailor Jerry Rum, keep his memory alive on rum labels and other goodies using his famous designs.  Playing cards, shot glasses, church keys, and can you believe, Converse sneakers?  Wow!  My toe just might be famous!   

Can't wait to tell my daughter how historic our toe tatts.  Maybe I should call the news?    




The Obama Database!

What is it about southern-most state regions?  Is it me, or do people of unique persuasion gravitate to the bottom of some states?  How so?  Well, for instance, everybody pretty much agrees a lot of goofiness has settled in Southern California.  The phenomenon, though taking different forms, is alive in Southern Arizona and Southern Florida. 

Surely you're not blaming elderly and flamboyuant for seeking milder climes?  Of course not, but state intelligentcia do tend to dwell in northern parts. 

Huh?  What about New York?  Come on, there's exceptions to every rule.  Hmmm....come think of it Wall Street is in southern Manhattan.  Meaning?  Make up your own mind on that one.

I write from Southwestern Kentucky where horses and bluegrass, bourbon, and nightlife are hours to the north.  But a neighboring state's southern most reaches make the slow lane seem quite progressive.  These Missouri folks coughed up good money to run a TV ad.  Get this, said ad warns that if your obtained driver's license or birth certificate within the past four years, you are (gasp!) in the Obama Database!  You made that up! 

Truth is stranger than fiction.




Not the teacher imploring or harrangring students, not a sleep-inducing state, but a way of being. 

Oh, you mean like geeky introverted types.  Ah, you're on to me.  Susan Cain's book of the same name has been a revelation to me personally of major impact. 

Really?  You're how old?  That's not the point.  Lo, these many years (and there's quite a few of them for which I'm grateful) I've been trying to become more outgoing.  Well-meaning teachers and parents urged me gently and not so gently to get my nose out of books. Now, thanks to Ms. Cain, I shamelessly embrace my inner introvert.  Well-meaning teachers and parents, self-help books, urged me gently and not so gently to get my nose out of books. 

You didn't watch TV?   Listen, we had no TV.  You really are old!  That's not the point.  The point is I loved to read.  I read breakfast food boxes, for heaven's sake.  On the family vacation, I took along the dictionary so as to have something to read.  Not only that, I enjoyed time alone which marked me as a seriously odd child.

After reading Quiet, I learned that as many as half of us are of introverted persuasion.  These folks have much to offer.  Like what?  Think Ghandi, Eleanor Roosevelt, Rosa Parks on social issures; Steve Jobs and Bill Gates on technology.  The most charismatic and well-spoken introverts among us are not necessarily putting forth the best ideas.  Think congress!  And banks!

"Un-quiet" is deeply embedded in our educational methods, corporate world, and culture.  The book chronicles our arrival at this bias.  Wonderful advice for parents of introverted kids and much more.  Extroverts, they walk among us and they're really okay. 

Well, I don't know...... Don't take my word for it.  Read Quiet or check out Ms. Cain's TED talk on Youtube. 

In case you're curious, I am an ambivert (both extro and intro).  Who cares?  Good point.    


Brain Research through Advancing Innovative Neurotechnologies - BRAIN - public and private sector scientists will investigate how billions of cells within the brain interact with one another.  Thus sayeth Mr. Obama.  Dubbing it the BRAIN Initiative, according to NPR, many scientists are stumped as to what this implies or promotes.  Actually quite a lot of brain function science is presently underway, exciting discoveries, clues as to personality, emotion, as well as function and disease. 

Well, if I were a writer for rhymes-with-box-news, I can tell you I'd be hot on this:  Anybody with half a brain recognizes brain research for the socialist conspiracy it is.  One more step to program us from our guns and our rights to arm ourselves to the teeth.  What's a Sunday drive without your weapon safely stowed on your pickup window gun rack?  That' just what this kind of stuff is leading to!  And another thing, this BRAIN stuff is probably a front for the global warming hoax.  Not to mention an attempt to destroy Creationism.

Happily, I'm not a rhymes-with-box-news writer.  Still I find the Brain Initiative puzzling.  It seems a scattering of political stardust.  All glitter but no substance.  

Wait a minute, I think I've got it!  It's a tongue-in-cheek proposal that baggers will, of course, denounce, (GOP nixes BRAIN!) thus unwittingly reminding voters of brainless 2012 GOP presidential  primaries and current modus operandi.  It's a clever trap and I'm pretty sure they'll fall into it.        

Rodman, Aurora, Kim

My husband assures me the government is on it.  Kim Jong-un?  Nothing to worry about.  Authorities pooh-pooh threats of North Korea's missle launch.  Why, they don't even have an armed missle!  How reassuring.  And strangely convoluted.  Think Iran and the nonexistent WMD's.

Kim, a pudgy, immature tyrant may be harmless, but his toys are pretty impressive.   He seems determined to throw a dynamite birthday party.   I'm not losing sleep over this guy, but I trust somebody is.

Another insane individual authorities chose to ignore was none other than the infamous Aurora shooter, James Holmes.  Campus pschiatrist, Lynne Fenton, warned police more than a month in advance of Holmes' homicidal tendencies.  The man threatened her for heavens sake.  Ho-hum!  And the rest is indeed dark knight history.  

Oh, silly me.  I'm forgetting something.  Dennis Rodman is Kim's BFF.  Surely Kim would do nothing to jeapordize this friendship.  Despite living on opposite sides of the planet, the boys have lots in common:  Neither is the brightest light on the block, both are flamboyantly bizzare and blow a lot of smoke.  So far, Kim, though fond of make-up, has shown no interest in cross-dressing.  

Yes, April, that crazy month, brings fools from the woodwork.  But dare we rely upon Dennis Rodman to save the western world? 



April's Fools

Does the month of April trigger foolish behavior or does it merely sharpen our sense of  fools among us?  (The old chicken or egg dilemma.)  Perhaps an April Fool of the Month award would be in order.

On a regional level, I thought of nominating the entire population of Cape Giradeau, MO, retroactively.   One year ago they decided, hey, let's allow bow hunting season within the city limits.  Don't know the instigator, but I  picture an obese Billy Bob sitting on his back deck.  "Jes look at all them deer eating Ma's flowers.  Why I could pick one off with my bow right here. I'll ast Uncle Joe 'bout it?  He's in with the mayor " 

Investigating the matter I learned the rationale.  No less than 136 deer stalked the night streets of the Cape.  Did bow-hunters set up moonlit hunts once a month?  How about curfew?  Mothers, keep your kids indoors!  How many deer did they harvest?  What a stupid euphenism!  Deer are not vegetables. 

But that's not the end of the story.  Two days ago the population of the Cape came to their collectives senses and voted down the ordinance.  The vote was close:  1279 against repeal; 1485 for.  The citizens of Cape Girardeau, fools last year, deserve credit for coming to their senses. 

Now, if national politicans would come to their senses!  Who's afraid of a great fool of a gun nut bully and liar holding lawmakers at bay with AKA profits?  Apparently, all of them.   


David Chang makes killer fried chicken.  Never mind that I've not eaten it.  I can tell by looking.  How can it miss with luscious, brown, double-fried, crispy crust?

Well, and, hey, there's beer in the batter.  Being a bit of a beer snob myself, I noted the beer used is a cheap generic.  Chang uses it to evaporate rather than to flavor his chicken-frying batter.  "Wet air" aka Redneck Delight has found a respectable niche.

Morning TV?  You guessed it.  The hosts love Chef Chang and his fried chicken.  They admire not only his culinary skill but his business acumen.  How fortunate to do such pleasurable work!  Cooking and eating produce some of life's greatest pleasures.

Ha!  I'll go along with the eating part, but cooking every night for free is pretty tiresome:  A young husband considers Velveeta the epitome of cheese.  (He's long ago been retrained.)  Picky children make you crazy.  "Have we had that before?"  (They grew into surprisingly unpicky adults.)  Relief finally comes with empty nest years, lots of eating out.  (Yeah!) 

The years fly, even in the slow lane, till cholesterol, salt, sugar, indigestion, not to mention constipation, become defining  culinary factors.  Yep, eating in again most every night. 

Chang's chicken looked sooooo good!  Wonder if I can duplicate it by double-baking skinless chicken breasts?  I'll drink the beer. 





Shoot-out at the CVS?

Kentucky Pharmacy held up at gunpoint!  Ski-masked gunman demands prescription pain pills terrifying two female employees out of their wits.  (Who can blame them?)  But here's the thing.  Both women have gun permits; both will come to work armed.   It is unclear what will be their weapons of choice. 

Will they cradle Bushmasters?  Perhaps a sling so as to work unimpeded?   What if these women pack pistols?   Unless they wear shoulder or waist holsters, how awkward will it be drawing weapons out of handbags?  Will an armed perp be honorable enough to wait while the ladies arm themselves?  Or will the scoundrel fire as soon as he sees them reaching?

I don't know about you, but I think  shoot-out at the CVS is not a good thing.       


The movie, 1982, Sissy Spacek, Jack Lemmon, a tale of a "disappeared" American in Chile who was found, not alive.  I'm torn by this movie's chilling story of US complicity in the Chilean coup and its bloody aftermath.  American and CIA involvement was necessary to protect interests of 3,000 American businesses. Frankly, I'm sick and tired of this rationale.

Where was I when this atrocity was happening?  How is it I never saw the movie till today, 30 years after the fact.  I had no Smart Phone, no PC, no laptop, no electronics to distract.  I was a fulltime college student, a distraction, for sure, but is it an excuse?  How easily we Americans were deluded even then when news was news rather than opinions, entertainment, and spin.

We tell ourselves we are the greatest nation in the world.  Listen, I'm not interested in living anywhere else.  But if we were what we claim, we'd think of finding ways to help the hungry of the world become self-sufficient.  We would insist on confronting the challenges of planetary climate change.  We would stop waging trumped-up wars.  We would provide a safety net for our own.  Yes, we would have stronger gun laws.  Keep your guns, boys, I don't care.  But if you're a nut case, you don't need a weapon.  And unless you're on the battlefield, you don't need an assault rifle.

The American attitude that overlooked and covered up Chilean atrocities in the name of  business prevails today, thrity years later.  We brazenly desecrate, exploit the earth and its peoples including our own.  Our underbelly is dark and frightening.   

In the years since this movie was made, desperate changes have come to the US.  Workers wages have risen little during this time.  Sadly, 25% of us live in poverty and our infrastructure crumbles.  Our representatives can not or do not represent us.  Our coffers have been drained by war.  

But, hey, the stock market is going up.  Yes, (surprise,surprise) it is rising in direct proportion to our increase in poverty.  Though not tortured and murdered as in Chile, our middleclass is missing.


April 1, 2013

In appreciation, to my faithful followers, I'm offering a free reading from world reknown visionary, Tupac.  Just click on Tupac.com.  In the past he's predicted major disasters:  flooding of New Orleans, disturbing weather patterns, disaster for the dollar.  If you're looking, he can tell who you'll marry. 

Cheyenne blood courses through his veins imparting special powers.  Many faithful testify to his abilities. Let me hear how this goes for you. 

You're on to me!  Though Tupac and his offer are real, it's my silly little joke.  

Oliver Pollack, an April fool?  You be the judge.  On this day, In 1778 he invented the world reknown dollar sign $$$$$, a symbol Americans have come to treasure above just about everything else.  Perhaps a giant dollar sign sculpture honoring Mr. Pollack might be in order.  Think Wall Street or Washington, D.C.  Smaller lawn and garden versions might replace the pink flamingo. (I could be onto something here.)    

Last but not least, Ferry-Morse, America's oldest seed company was founded this day in 1856.  In the slow lane, we still buy lots of seeds.  Mightn't our nation calm down if more people tapped seeds into the ground and cut back on tapping personal tech?  How about a National Seed Planting Day?  I'm writing my representative today. 



Whoops!  Yesterday's little piece was so full of misinformation, it seemed best to pull it and hope misrepresented authors' lawyers are not calling even as I write. 

If you read it, you know I lamented again my lack of techno savvy.  So far so good.  The trouble arose when I confused two highly successful authors of erotica:  England's  E. L. James, of the 50 Shades of Gray triligoy and Desiree Holt, dubbed Porn Queen of the Texas Hill Country by her son.  The 76 year-old Holt kicks out a a new book about every two weeks.  Pretty amazing.  

The Queen makes excellent use of technology via (surprise, surprise) a colorful, in-your-face, spicy website.  Very Texas.  Ms. James' website is black and white, understated, elegant. Very English.  I've not read either author, but judging by their respective websites, there's porn for all tastes.

It is absolutely true that Ms. Holt researches sexual positions using her Ken's and Barbie's.  I saw her "playing" on TV.  Also true a green Gumbie stands on my desk, but he researches nothing.  Ms. James' research remains a private matter.

Deepest apologies, my dears, from the slow lane. 

The Bible

Eeeeeek!  Every day, every day more craziness! Today, History Channel's Bible series. 

Not my intent to blaspheme; learned my Bible stories about midpoint of the last century.  Yes, indeed, I went to Sunday School.  My mother's bedtime stories were from the Bible.  I was a religous little child.  

But these days in a survey concerning church affiliation, I would check the "none" box.  I've no problem with those who check the "something-or-other" boxes.  Even so, I consider myself spiritual and pretty tolerant.  Oh, why is that?  I say worship as you wish and respect the rights of others to do the same.   But, please, knock off elitism and prosyltizing.  Like a practioner of medicine, the religous practioner might think seriously about first doing no harm.  But, I digress.      

This production by ex-angel Roma Downey and her husband, Mark Burnett, is supposedly getting huge ratings and rave revues.  Well, I can't dispute that, but diligent research, I suspect, would find at least a few turned-down thumbs.  Count mine among them.   

I admit I will not watch a single episode.  Why not, for heaven's sake?  Because it is reprehensible to represent Lucifer as President Obama's look-alike.  (No offense to actor Mehdi Ouazanni.)  While Glen Beck and his ilk dance with glee, The History Channel, the angel and husband vehemently deny any intentional resemblence.  Ha!     

I may live in the slow lane, but I didn't believe Janet Jackson's wardrobe malfunctioned either.   

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