DC Has Truly Gone Insane

If Congress is really representative of the American people, we are in huge trouble. Of course, if they aren't we are also in trouble because that means we are being railroaded by an oligarchy. I tend to believe the latter is the case, although the majority of people may be OK with it. I've thought it was a sham government for most of my life; a view which has placed me as odd man out in certain school and college classes, and among those who feel comfortable, even smart, painting my opposition as oppositional disorder.

The thing that bothers me most lately is the blatant lack of debate on legislation and the arrogance that has gone with it. The term "gridlock" has again arisen as if those who don't go along with whatever is put in front of them are doing the wrong thing. I like gridlock. It causes delays in the destruction of rights and of the country as we know or imagine it.

Glimpses at what is being done with tax money, in the name of promoting prosperity among the citizens who have already been robbed, is beyond anything I thought possible. The obvious pandering to special groups and interests at the expense of those who work and mind their own business is nothing short of criminal.

I may have been born too late. Righteous revolutions and a general passion to be free, may be things of the past, never to be experienced in this century. This system of adding irrelevant payoffs to bills and such, and lack of restraint of authority should have been overthrown long ago.

One encouraging thing about the masses is that it takes very little for them to jump on a bandwagon going the opposite direction from the one they are on. Peer pressure and perceived short term self interest do the trick. They'll do what they are told makes them appear intelligent and accepted by their peers. Even smart people do that. Lack of real understanding and values has little to do with intelligence.

Con men don't look for the dumb marks, just the vulnerable. A touch of greed and a fragile but prominent ego, and enough intelligence to follow convoluted logic make for easy pickings.

Cursed Deductibles and Mind Clutter

It makes long term financial sense, but when it comes time to pay the piper, one is often disturbed at having any deductible at all, insurancely speaking. I'll deal with it later and hope my windshield doesn't fall apart in the interim.

A year ago, my only concern was whether I could get myself together enough to pack up and hit the road. Given that my life was pretty much a worthless vacuum, it seemed the best option, and a possible path toward finding meaning and satisfaction. I had no idea where I'd be or what I'd be doing by now. One thing that I discovered is that I could probably be satisfied to travel indefinitely, even if it meant sleeping in tents.

I also discovered that, if tents are involved, I need an air mattress to help make the discomfort bearable. What a drag that is. I guess, if I had to, I could get over it. Enjoying sleep on rocks, concrete or dirt is a skill that puts one ahead of the game, if you ask me.

The big problem of the perpetually disjointed life, partly the fault of poor judgement, too much, or not enough, drugs and alcohol, and partly due to principles held at the cost of outward gain, as well as other blatant stupidity, is that there is nothing to show for it. At some point, you expect to have a bit of continuous passion for something, or some one.

On the other hand, we'd all be better off if some people, who lived consistent, relatively balanced lives, and multiplied like crazy, would have never made it to that point. So, my "what might have been" may have been a real nightmare by comparison to the present reality. It actually feels like a never ending nightmare, but not the dark scary kind. More colorful and surreal, even pleasant. It just doesn't go anywhere, and that is the nightmare portion of it.

The lesson is that it is tougher to start over now than it would have been long ago. Making something special happen has still got to be the goal. Demanding as little as possible is probably a good idea. Life gives and takes, so no use expecting anything one way or the other. It doesn't owe me.

Certain qualities are probably enhanced by time, experience and pain. Empathy in some respects may have been enhanced. I'm also more suspicious of food prepared by disgruntled groups who usually dislike my disgruntled group.

I write these things because they interest me. They are true enough, but often just follow a thought more than a fact. It doesn't matter.

The cracked windshield is just a metaphor. An expensive one due to the deductible, but a metaphor just the same.

(not so)Brief Theory

Since the country's treasury is being turned over to various elite interests and enterprises which have nothing to do with middle, or even poor, non ward of the state Americans, actual economic turn around is a highly suspect promise. Sacrifice is the only promise they've made which I am sure will be forthcoming, if not already in practice. Human sacrifice, to be sure, even if not as directly evident as the way the Aztecs practiced it. Same thing. And it could be argued, to the same gods. Appease the weather, feed the earth.

Just an aside, while eco friendliness is on my mind; products which claim to be eco friendly almost never seem to work. The solvents don't solve and the cleaners don't clean. I wish it were otherwise. Can't pet a tiger shark, or a tiger, in most cases. I don't know if that applies to anything.

OK. Since the money is being redistributed to favored people and companies for dubious projects, or non at all, and that will only impoverish the average producer even more, I think there will be some big excuse for a big war that makes Iraq look like a skirmish. Incentive to save, as if anyone has the excess to do so, and to launch private enterprise, is increasingly discouraged by current policies and regulations.

The only way everyone can work for the government is if the government owns everything and controls everything. Some of us will resist that. Not everyone would mind, even if it meant the standard of living and scope of choice were severely limited. The real issue of today is the rift between the individual and the collective.

Those in charge promote the idea that the individual exists for the benefit of the collective and that the collective has a right to dictate what compensation and contribution is appropriate for each. Those who relish the old fashioned concept of freedom disagree.

The other side would insist that the role of those in government is to protect the individual from the tyranny of them, and of the majority. It's a concept which gets relatively little attention, and almost none in a positive light.

It's the age old thing of serving the feudal lord or serving one's self. The pendulum has swung far into the realm of serfs serving the elite lords of the manor. Until people again figure out who's boss, they will willingly embrace this authority. What is amazing is how few people recognized the collectivist nature of GW Bush's policies and presidency. We're on the same road, even if they say the word "change" ten million times. The only change is that the robbery and coup are in broad daylight now. No more pretense.

Either much authority will be given over to various international tribunals, or a big war will be engineered, or both. That's my bet.

Whatever happens, that red salt is the best ever.

Premonition or Dimensional Anomaly?

All day I felt a sense of unease. I wondered if it wasn't actually disease, the kind that manifests itself in the addled mind. Maybe a case of bonkerism.

The portion of the Great Teak Project which I intended to complete today went well enough. It is hard to be sure in this particular place because no one is really sure what the man behind the curtain wants. Apparently those in relatively direct contact are never advised when a job is particularly pleasing and well done. They only hear about what is wrong or displeasing to Him.

I'm one who likes to know what is right, and I generally like encouragement. This is a test, and I can only guess that few people would go to the same extremes I do, trying to make a thing right. The problem is whether I've gone down the right path; is this the correct choice of solution? To me it may make sense but to the owner of the mess it might not be. It's like being told a room needs painting, and since it is covered with graffiti and bizarre wall paper, you probably agree, but what color and texture, if any, should be applied? Only way to find out is to do it and see if anyone complains.

Other than that ambience of "WTF, and will I be banned from the premises", conditions are extraordinarily pleasant. The people, when any cross my path, are nice and friendly. I'm not quite familiar enough with it to overcome that state of cringe that leads one to feel the grounds are paved with eggshells. I think that can be overcome in time, provided time is offered.

I'm freaking about a few spots of teak oil on concrete. They don't easily come up, and circumstances did not allow much time to deal with it. Had I never said anything or noticed, chances are neither would anyone else. Of course, I opened my mouth to other hired help because A) I'm a nincompoop, B) I thought there was an off chance someone would have a good remedy, and C) I wanted it known that I take responsibility for my work, or some such idiotic thing. Tomorrow I guess I'll hear.

So, as I was on the way home--a long interesting drive, I stopped for tomatoes and ice cream from the local high priced grocery store. All grocery stores are high priced. Tomatoes were for the Mexican surprise dinner, and ice cream was for its own sake. I've skimped on things so I opted to go for a treat. Part of my new weight loss plan. Eat now while you can.

As I was puttering out of Alpine at maybe 35 MPH, an orb consisting of nothing but water hit my windshield. All I saw of it was the water as it hit. Thump! Then I realized it had cracked my window big time. The only thing I could figure is that it was a water balloon. I saw no pieces of container go flying when it hit and I never saw it coming. It was dark and it hit the right side of the window so I guess it came from the side.

When I turned around to return to the scene of the water bombing, there was a teen aged kid walking up a side street, just off the main road where the incident occurred. Under interrogation he offered the following statement, "uh,. wha, wa, wa I dunno". Having not a shred of evidence, I felt pursuing the matter would only get me arrested, and probably sued by his mom. I just assume dad is off to parts unknown.

Then again, maybe he is just a goofy kid, innocent, and a ball of water suddenly manifested from another dimension, colliding with my windshield, resulting in irreparable cracks. Maybe it will be covered by insurance. Still, I am not too thrilled, except that I'd had that weird feeling all day, and this inconvenience was more minor than the doom that felt impending.

Another guess about that uncomfortable thing was that maybe the revolution is or should be closer than it seems. If the US gets completely sold out, as is happening on a number of fronts, and Mexico has a melt down, maybe I'll find myself in a war zone.

I like to think the water orb just appeared out of another reality, at an inconvenient time. It may have been a ufo.

Musical Chairs

Originally I was going to raise hell about things that still seem to haunt and anger me, But I decided that it is useless. Discretion and comprehension of boundaries are not endemic to all cultures, or subcultures in the US.

This teak furniture project has become a wonderland of chemical aromas. If I were into huffing, I'd be in big trouble after a day like today. I've always enjoyed working with things that smell like lacquer thinner. It could be there is a reason--something to do with my addictive nature. Some varnish stripper has a similar aromatic quality.

There is a 2 step process once you get the varnish off. First is a cleaner then there is a brightener. The latter smells like battery acid, and I found I enjoy that smell. Spooky. Those two steps are done with the teak soaking wet. I'm treating this stuff like a boat deck. I figure it is outdoor furniture so if it is dealt with like something that goes to sea, it ought to handle hanging out at the pool and on the patio. Whatever the people who built it coated it with certainly did not last. Reportedly that finish started deteriorating after a month. The trouble is that some was still intact, and some not. Lots of stripper, and eventually lots of sandpaper. Muscles I may have never used in my life are beginning to make their presence known, and not in the form of bulk or attractive ripples. That would be in the pain, Bob.

Salt of the Earth

Who would have ever thought that I would become an accidental salt connoisseur? Salt is salt, I always thought. Until the day I was denied the "good salt". Not exactly denied, but flogged for tasting the good stuff, presumably reserved for the "good people"; company and other dignitaries of higher status than myself, I guess.

The "good salt" story has served as an inside joke that never looses its flavor. And it resulted in me deciding that salt is not just salt. Some is harvested by foreign virgins at the sea shore. Other salt has clay somehow involved in the process. There are big crystals and tiny. You can grind it up like pepper.

It is uncool and not remarkably healthy to heap salt on everything, so the "good salt" lasts for a very long time. That actually justifies the seemingly high price. It is a bargain, especially considering the long hours those foreign virgins put into picking only the choicest crystals. .

I use the usual cheap salt for things like catching birds. For those who don't know, people, like my grandpa, used to say if you put salt on a bird's tail, you could catch it. When I was somewhat younger than I am today, I ran around my backyard with a salt shaker trying to catch birds. I never did. That doesn't mean the statement is false, though. My problem was that I couldn't get the salt on the bird's tail. If I had, I bet I would have caught him.

So, in the mail today I received a surprise bag of very good salt. Exotic and red from the clay involved in its harvest--or so I think. Maybe it is blood from human sacrifice. When it comes to exotic places and salt, anything is possible.

This is probably an example of personal growth. I've moved from the ranks of the salty ignoramus to salt snob.

I'm not sure how this saltsnobbery fits in with the brave new collective world. It seems a bit of an individual indulgence, enjoyed without a second thought concerning service to the community, my country or love of the holy earth. Well, maybe love of the sea from whence it came. Certainly, I don't ask myself how I can share my "good salt" with those less fortunate/and/or discerning than myself. Greater good never crosses my mind. How to pay rent does from time to time.

Another secret of the "good salt"; if you were to pack shotgun shells with it, it would be to cheap table salt as buckshot is to birdshot. You never know. There may come a time when I have to share by embedding it in the body of my foes. I guess I'm anticipating hordes of mindless green shirts in some official civil service patrol who need to be kept at bay. In the old days people used to shoot at you with salt pellets in order to protect their property and not kill the kids who were making trouble.

The kids were almost never armed and the shooter never prosecuted. Similar to today, except it is the kids who are armed, using real bullets, and protecting the property is not the PC thing to do.

Well, I must go, early day tomorrow at the old salt mine.

Belt Sanders are Good

You may not see this on the news any time soon, but there are times when proper use of a belt sander can definitely bail you out and even cut costs. Just another public service message. Not one the ad council is likely to publish. They are too busy telling you things that are of dubious validity or so obvious that even I already know them. The one that informs us, the dumbed down, obese public, that taking the stairs provides more exercise than taking an elevator. I never knew.

One thing about belt sanders; it pays to know what you are doing because you can seriously gouge the item being sanded if you aren't used to the thing. They are a little like those circular floor waxers, carpet cleaner machines. They'll run across the room on you if you aren't used to them.

Another hint for the well-to-do home owner, and the decorators they hire: If you have outdoor teak furniture made, don't let them get by with spraying a coat of varnish and leaving it at that. The sun will make most of it disappear in six months. I think it should be treated the way you'd do it on a boat.

Strange days are at hand. I'd say time will tell if these things are as bizarre as they seem but so far I notice that most people can't follow the cause and effect of things. That makes the population an easy mark. Too bad most of us are familiar with the phenomena known as solar and lunar eclipse, or they'd be doing that old trick of making us think it was a crisis and that lawyers on public pay make the sun and moon come back. It would no doubt include sacrifice and duty of some kind on our part.

It Rains In Southern California

It's sleeting in Alpine. It rained on the coast. Climate change is spooky. Just yesterday it was sunny and hot enough to sweat if you tried. Local news spokes-model man thinks it is because people use plastic bags. He struck a contemplative and thoughtful pose, so he probably knows. "Why aren't people taking global warming seriously?", he asked after his plastic bag tirade.

In considering the various slogans that have stood over time, I find that many of them really mean nothing. I've concluded that Obama's "Yes we can", applied in contexts other than I think were intended, is about as good as any. Better than most. "I have not yet begun to fight!!" is probably the best and most inspirational.

Kennedy's "Ask not what your country can do for you - ask what you can do for your country", is basic nonsense, unless you live in a slave state. I'd not encourage anyone to ask either of those things. What does "do for your country" mean, except in times of disaster or war? Considering that the draft was in play, and withholding money from income was already being done, I don't think asking questions made a difference. Considering the source and context---president of the government's inaugural address, I believe it implies, "Ask what you can do for your government; the military-industrial complex".

If you are honest and trade fair, without extorting from the people, as government and many of its contractors do, then you are doing plenty for your country. Keeping Walgreen's open 24 hours is a good example of doing for your country, in my book.

The other line in his speech which recommends other countries "ask not what America will do for you, but what together, we can do for the freedom of man"*, has a bit more substance. Unfortunately the very term "freedom" has experienced some dilution in meaning and application over the years. It was already used in a twisted sense by the time JFK hit the scene. Too bad.
(*universal pronouns were still intact at that time--women weren't being left out in that statement)

Once again, it has snowed on hwy S2 by Mt Leguna. That's where the daredevil hang gliders launch. One of these days...

Fudd Ruckers and I told you so

I suppose Baba could be cwedited with making R (aw) a letter of mis or no pronunciation. Lately it seems to be the fashionable thing in DC. Lawmakers impersonating Elmer Fudd. First there was Bahney Fwank, then that other guy who has assured us that the money taken from taxpayers and given to various communities or put into public works projects won't go to workers who actually do that work, unless they fit his parameters, many of which sound as if being qualified is a disqualifying factor. Or something.

It was a rambling and not altogether coherent statement, so reasonable content may have been missing altogether. What struck me was the Fuddishness of the delivery. I think it's a fad. I'm not sure how to make money from it, and if I did know I'd keep it vewy vewy quiet.

Well, it looks like we have a year to rehab that rental house or old barn. Obama is closing Gitmo, but he wisely allowed a year to figure out the details. That's where having a ready made facility would pay off. Maybe if you pitch it, substituting Ws and "ah" for Rs, you can wow the powers that be into a tidy sum for housing the enemy.

One benefit would be that you can actually see if it is only the enemy being locked up, and not politically incorrect dissidents from this country.

So, I guess it was a good idea after all.

The only thing that I noticed from the mass euphoria going around is that a sense of humor seems to be lacking. That is a troubling development.

Another Money Making Scheme

Call me Mr Opportunist if you must. Every once in awhile I see the silver lining in the cloud. Lacking the drive to follow up, I offer these money making gems as a public service.

Today's money maker: Terrorist Jail.

Assuming Obama shuts down Gitmo, they will be wanting to house some of those people somewhere. I can't imagine anyone wants to stick them in a normal prison. The extra complications, and accommodations, would not be welcomed by many prison administrators.

The best solution is to sub it out to a private company whose only business is maintaining terrorist cages. I'll bet you could land a sweet contract if you converted that old barn, or the stables on your struggling ranch or farm into a Muslim friendly hell on earth. They don't need TV or internet, just a few dietary requirements, and foot wash and whatever else it is they do. I guess you should buy the proper holy book in bulk and make sure they aren't made of anything which would facilitate escape or suicide bomb construction.

This is a great way to make ends meet in these trying times. You'd get money to appear on sixty minutes, and late night TV. Maybe a cable network would do a special, or base a sitcom on the place.

Once again, you are welcome. A free outline of how to get rich while the rest of the world goes to heck in a hand basket. Cash cows like this don't grow on trees you know.

**many people don't know of my inside track when it comes to Barry things. Yep, 'Rack and I are pretty tight. His friends call him Barry, or "Rack", pronounced "rock". If I wasn't well connected, would I know that?