Thursday, August 31, 2006

I'm a Dina Jawed


President of Iran: "I'm a dina jawed." 

Schadenfreude.

No anarchy.  No pretty. No crazy eights.

JD bluffed.  He lost, but he bluffed. 

Those on the southeast side of the crack in the table won a couple of bucks.  Those on the northwest, lost a couple of bucks each.

Root beer and pretzels.

Spike got out of debt -- everybody is in the black again.  He was lucky, probably because of the stool sample he insisted we all inspect.

Wednesday, August 30, 2006

mushrooms in the field

Mail from Colombia

This came from Israel last night.  I am calling him by phone this morning.  In this letter, I don't think he has understood yet that a second card has been mailed to him.  Also, I will have to clarify what he means by borrowing and reimbursement to Andres' account when I talk to him.   According to my online banking, they have not yet withdrawn the most recent $200 in Andres' account.  There's still more than a week before they leave for Germany, so there should be time to straighten it out.

I'm surprised by the news about the Catholic priest helping out.  This could be more important news than Israel lets on, since he (rightly) has felt that the government gives a hard time to non-Catholic congregations.  At first I thought it was some kind of ecumenical shift, some cooperative effort underway in Bucaramanga, but now I wonder if it is a former priest who left the church to marry.  Also, Israel doesn't say, but I wonder if this priest and his family are staying in their house.

Greg



"Dear Gregory!

We are all nervous since the hour to travel has arrived.  We've been able to buy the tickets for the 4th of September, with return on the 10th of October.  We stop in Araba, Holland, Berlin, and return by way of Rome, Holland, Araba, and Bogota. Now we're rushing to leave all the work organized, and you know that this is very extensive -- food programs, missions, scholarships, projects, church services, and the children.  But we hope that all will work out well.  The trip is important for the support we will get there, because I don't know if I've told you this already, but they are dissolving the Development Office here, they say because of a lack of funds.  We will also lose this support and we have to fend for ourselves.

I was also toying again with the bank card, but it didn't work.  I am concerned about it, if we have to use Andres' card and Andres also may be traveling at any moment and we're left without a way to withdraw money.  For now, we're using the money that you sent to Andres' card, but now for the coming week that I'm not going to be here, there's no way to use it. It's a problem.  The idea was to leave a loan to reimburse later.  Would that be possible? 

The bakery that we have in Giron to help these families, we are moving it to the center in Bucaramanga, so we don't lose more resources.  They don't know how to administer it there.  Now we want from the Center to manage the bakery to be able to get some sources for food, health and study for the displaced children.  We ask the church to support us in prayer so that we can go forward with this project.  Yesterday we tested the bakery and the bread came out delicious.  Now the problem is the marketing.  We're also constructing a little house for a 72-year old women, who is without family and very sick.  As you see, the situation here is heavy, but we can at least serve as Christ taught us to do.

We're also in the process of seeking a scholarship for students for a Catholic priest who came to our church and wanted to serve as a pastor, but we don't have help for his studies.  He has worked some already and it has gone very well.  He's married and has a very lovely little girl.

Of the coming guests, they are very welcome.  We will pick them up, so let us know when and how they're arriving and we will host them here.

God bless you, greetings to all the church and pastors.  We love you much.

Your brother in Christ,

Israel Martínez

---------- Forwarded message ----------
From: ISRAEL MARTINEZ


Querido Gregory ¡


Estamos todos nerviosos pues está llegando la hora de viajar. Ya pudimos comprar los pasajes, para el día 4 de Septiembre, con regreso el día 10 de Octubre. Nos toco por Araba, Holanda, Berlín y regreso por Roma, Holanda, Araba, Bogotá. Ahora estamos es con la correría de dejar todo el trabajo organizado y U d. sabe que es muy extenso, comedores, misiones, Becas, proyectos, cultos y los hijos. Pero esperamos que todo va a salir muy bien. Es importante el viaje para poder tener algún apoyo, pues no se si te había contado, que me retiraron la oficina de Desarrollo, según ellos por falta de recursos. Además terminan las ayudas y tenemos que solos defendernos.

Estuve también tentando de nuevo con la tarjeta pero no sirvió. Estoy muy preocupado pues solo será, si giran por la cuenta de Andrés y Andrés también es posible que viaje a cualquier momento y nos quedamos sin como sacar dinero, por ahora usamos el giro que enviaron por la tarjeta de Andrés, pero ya para esta semana que viene que yo no estoy no hay como funcionar. Está muy difícil. La idea es hacer un préstamo para luego rembolsar, ¿no se si sería posible?

La panadería que teníamos en Girón, para ayuda de estas familias, nos toco traerla para el centro en Bucaramanga, para que no se perdieran más recursos. Ellos no supieron administrar. Ahora queremos desde la Central manejarla panadería para poder sacar algún recurso para Comida, salud y estudio de estos niños desplazados. Le pedimos a la iglesia  que nos apoyen en oración para que podamos salir adelante con este proyecto. Ayer hicimos la prueba y salio un pan muy rico, ahora el problema es el mercadeo. Estamos también construyendo una casita para una señora sola, sin familia y tiene 72 años y está muy enferma. Como Ud. Ve la situación está muy pesada, pero podemos por lo menos servir como Cristo nos enseño.

Ahora estamos también en el plan de buscar una beca para estudios de un Padre Católico que se vino para nuestra iglesia y quiere servir como pastor, pero no tenemos ayudas para su estudio. El ya está predicando y lo hace muy bien. Ya se caso y tiene una niña muy linda.

Lo de los visitantes, está confirmado que los recibiremos, son bien venidos, nos informan cuando y como llegan que aquí los hospedamos.

Bueno que Dios les bendiga, un saludo a toda la iglesia y los pastores, los amamos mucho.

Su hermano en Cristo,

Israel Martínez

Monday, August 28, 2006

Paranoia

I'm sorting through my receipts and papers from 2004, preparing for Friday's IRS audit.  (I hate to admit I watched Larry the Cable Guy last night, and there's a trailer for the Blue Collar Comics who go to visit the president in D.C. and a Bush look-alike threatens them, "I'm going to make the IRS very interested in you!"). 

I realized I had spent a month in Colombia that year and I still make frequent calls to Colombia. 

I also lost my job teaching high school at Shiloh that year. 

Of course, they never would say I lost my job because of an unpopular political stand, although the shop teacher whispered to me back then, "You're really brave," simply because I had a "NO WAR IN IRAQ" sign in my car, the principal took me to her office at least three times to ask me never to mention the war, and they had regular day-long visits from the Marines, who provided inflatable toys in the gym and gave away key chains and t-shirts and made presentations -- they were a fun bunch, walking down the hall with their arms over the senior boys' shoulders.  I, on the other hand, discouraged such thoughts with those impoverished male students who thought they should join the service in order to be able to afford to go to college.  There was no other way, they said.  I told them I'd make sure they went to college, there was always another way, and told them to steer clear of the armed services.

So, I can't help thinking this audit is as much Homeland Security as it is the IRS. I don't want to be paranoid.  But I can't seem to convince myself that this is, as the very nice good cop revenue agent claims, strictly random.

I'm thinking of videotaping his visit for a YouTube video.

--
"All my books are botches." -- Herman Melville

Sunday, August 27, 2006

no tradusco

bueno, el secreto de aprender un idioma nuevo: no traduscas. "lapiz" quiere decir "lapiz;" "gato" quiere decir "gato," y "murcielago" quiere decir "murcielago," no "bat" (???). Vea las palabras como imagen.
--
"All my books are botches." -- Herman Melville

mas de leer en español

claro, no es que es el principio de estudiar la lengua.  lo he hecho desde niño.  pero tengo el intento ahora de hablar y leer y oir como nativo, como beckett con el frances, como vaclav havel con no se cuantas idiomas.  y lo que resulta es hombre diferente.  no soy la misma persona en ingles como en español.  leo sports illustrated, por ejemplo, con interes.  no lo pude hacer en ingles.  creo que estoy en el nivel de año cuatro de escuela, mas o menos.  y puedo deletrear un poco mejor que andres y otros nativos de la idioma, porque ellos lo conocen por los oidos, no por leer...  nunca voy a escribir ni don quixote ni moby dick, pero quizas algo, algun dia...

que me duele la cabeza

estoy en proceso de leer otra novela de jose saramago y esta vez es como estoy aprendiendo leer por primera vez, de los primeros años de escuela, asi que es mucho diferente claro, pero hay alguna del mismo proceso, puedo leer rapido mas o menos, sin entender cada palabra y ganando vocabulario a la misma vez, es un proceso tan interesante como el libro mismo, me gusta, me da la sensacion de ser joven otra vez, de la gran felicidad de aprender...

hola

muchas cosas no funcionan esta mañana. tengo miedo de que algo pasa mal con blogger. siempre creo que es culpa mia. y tengo que recordar que todo no revuelva en mi.

Esta Mañana No Pasa Nada de Importancia

I overslept this morning by 45 minutes, waking up at 4:10. I flew out the door, loaded the papers, and set about breaking rural speed limits in the dark. I also gave up the idea of watching any movies this morning.

But I listened to the new Los Lobos album, The Town and the City. It doesn't come out in the States until September 12, so there was that "first on my block" feeling. What I especially like about Los Lobos is their Spanglishness; they just don't bother to distinguish between English and Spanish at all, using both languages in a single lyric, or in a single line of a lyric, for that matter. The songs are pretty well divided here, some English and some Spanish. I listened two times straight through while plunking papers in tubes. More of those mushrooms spouted up on lawns in fairy rings in abundance: huge, white, otherworldly. I got done with delivery at 8:03 and the Homer cop apparently slept through my occasional 80-mph zips past cornfields.

Saturday, August 26, 2006

Mario says Howdy Doody

Thursday, August 24, 2006

Happy Birthday, Susie

Tuesday, August 22, 2006

Re: Project Runway


On Aug 17, 2006, at 9:16 AM, mark feldman wrote:

>> apart the instant the model walked off the runway. I felt sorry for
>> Alison. Her dress was bad, but she had a large model to work
>> with, too,
>> didn't she?

When PG wrote this blurb about Alison having a "large model to work
with", I nearly fell off my chair. Holy hell, if that model is
"large", then I must be "whale-like". She did look larger in
Alison's outfit, and that, I believe, was one of the comments made by
the judges about the outfit. I do not remember exactly what the
model looked like, but I think she was about the same size as the
other models in the show.

I panicked tonight, searching through the TV contents, that Project
Runway was not on. OH NO!! They cannot take a week off. Took a few
minutes before I realized that today is Tuesday. Duhhh.

linda

"Should any political party attempt to abolish social security,
unemployment insurance, and eliminate labor laws and farm programs,
you would not hear of that party again in our political history.
There is a tinysplinter group, of course, that believes you can do
these things. Among them are a few Texas oil millionaires, and an
occasional politician or business man from other areas. Their number
is negligible and
they are stupid." - President Dwight D. Eisenhower, 1954

tonight

if i read my tv guide correctly, tonight is the repeat of that wacky HOUSE season ender.

Also, Spike Lee's documentary on Katrina ends tonight.  I'll tape it.

L'Enfant and Poseidon came in the mail today.

I'd like to see Little Miss Sunshine, but then I would deprive myself of seeing it when it comes out on DVD.

Today on the route I watched the new Wim Wenders movie, Don't Come Knocking, a modern western written by Sam Shepard and starring him and his wife, Jessica Lange.  Quirky, but not oddball.  I liked it a lot.  I took notes.

Henry has been home since Sunday.  He's going out tonight, so I guess -- instead of going to the movies -- Lee and I will go to Al-Anon, since we haven't been in months.  (Speaking of Ernie, he seems to be doing quite well.  And the Telluride FIlm Festival starts on Sept. 1, so I consider him lucky, to say the least.  It's the one film festival I've never attended and always wanted to.  Well, I've never been to Toronto's festival, either.)

On the route today, I stopped to talk to the trailer guy in the woods who has about a thousand goats and as many exotic birds wandering across the road.  I asked him if I could videotape his goats some day.  He said sure.  I wish I had been videotaping him today.  His mouth stuffed full of tobacco, his grizzled gray beard, he was as friendly as they get, talking about how -- "three thousand, or three million" -- people in Chicago ate up all the goat meat during a festival in the park recently.  He didn't look like he'd been ever left the county, let alone gone to Chicago.

I found the box of tax receipts and papers in the basement this morning for 2004.  It took a while. 

I had to stop to pee twice on the route today.  Must be the psychological impact of being denied my Avodart by the government.

More than you ever wanted to know about me today.  Think I'll chew some tobaccky and go out to the hammock.

When is a falsehood not a lie...

The President of the United States during his press conferences can be mistaken and loose lipped, casual, jocular, jovial, joking. How do we know when he's telling the truth and when he's kidding around?

In Monday's meeting with the press, President Bush kidded around a lot, making fun repeatedly of one reporter's seersucker suit, for example. In fact, he told joke after joke, his shoulders shaking with sarcastic laughter.

Then he would get serious and threatening again, pointing his finger and repeating his phrases about global terror and fighting them "over there" so they don't come here.

He kept talking about Hezbollah's having "launched attacks" and that being the cause of the recent war. I wanted so much for a reporter to shout out, "By launching attacks, do you mean the kidnapping of two Israeli soldiers? Is that 'launching an attack'?

Bush said he had "never" associated Iraq with 9/11. I didn't get that. Half the troops in Iraq think they are fighting because of 9/11.

He said fighting the terrorists would take a long time, but I just remember Donald Rumsfeld saying the war would last six days or six weeks.

He said the mission was always to bring democracy to that part of the world. Mission accomplished?

He said he would never withdraw the troops from Iraq, not while he was president. So when the next elected president, Democrat or Republican, does withdraw the troops, whatever happens will not fall on Bush's shoulders. It won't be pretty. There won't be peace, not for a long time. But Bush will not have to worry about it, he'll be gone. The press can blame the new president who withdraws the troops for any continued instability. Bush will have just gone in, destabilized and destroyed the country beyond repair, and -- if troops are withdrawn and war continues -- he can point his famous fingers in another direction.

I think that is the definition of cowardice, letting someone else take the fall for your mistakes and ego.

I can't think of any other president who talked about himself so much, who was so self-absorbed. He doesn't even know enough history to realize his own father's track record at the ballot box?

Bush said he thought he was the only president who didn't carry the state he was born in. But as the journalist below notes, it's just another example of casual, jocular, jovial, joking around talk in a press conference that would be a lot better off with a statesman-like demeanor, with serious talk about serious business, with the acknowledgment and gravity that befits the fact that people are dying and being wounded every day because of this war of choice, so GWB could wear his fly jump suit and proclaim, as though it were a good thing, "I am a war president."

PG



August 22, 2006

To a Presidential Notion: Sorry, Mr. Bush, but No

WASHINGTON, Aug. 21 — "I may be the only person, the only presidential candidate who never carried the state in which he was born," President Bush said on Monday.

Uh, no, Mr. President. There have been quite a few, actually. Some are known only to historians, while others are famous. You might even call one a household name, Mr. President, depending on which household.

But we get ahead of ourselves.

Mr. Bush made his comment while expanding on his intention to stay out of the Senate race in Connecticut, where the incumbent, Joseph I. Lieberman, is trying to win despite being denied the nomination of his own Democratic Party.

Since Mr. Lieberman has supported the president on the Iraq war, the inevitable question has been how hard Mr. Bush would campaign against him, if at all. In good-naturedly dodging the question, Mr. Bush noted that he himself failed to carry Connecticut twice, despite having been born in New Haven in 1946.

Now, a trip down Trivia Lane to recall other presidential candidates who were defeated in the states in which they were born. And, no, we do not assert that the list is complete, nor do we gloat, for there are many ways to be tripped when playing Facts About the Presidents (and would-be presidents).

Al Gore, for instance. History buffs will remember that he failed to carry Tennessee in 2000. But while Tennessee is often called his "home state," he was born in Washington, D.C., which he carried overwhelmingly.

George McGovern, on the other hand, unambiguously joins Mr. Bush as a presidential candidate who failed to carry the state of his birth. Mr. McGovern, a South Dakota native, carried only Massachusetts and the District of Columbia against President Richard M. Nixon in 1972.

Hubert H. Humphrey, of course, was a giant in Minnesota politics. But he was born in South Dakota, a state he lost to Nixon in 1968.

Others on the list include Adlai E. Stevenson, born in Los Angeles, who did not carry California (or Illinois, where he was governor) against Dwight D. Eisenhower in 1952 or 1956.

There was Gov. Alfred E. Smith of New York, who grew up in Manhattan, but failed to carry the Empire State against Herbert Hoover in 1928. Let us not forget James W. Cox, who was born in Ohio but lost to another Ohioan, Warren G. Harding, in 1920. And surely we must recognize Alton B. Parker, born in Cortland, N.Y., who lost the 1904 election to another New Yorker, Theodore Roosevelt.

When he won the White House in 1844, James K. Polk did not carry the state of his birth, North Carolina, or the state where he had been governor, Tennessee. Fast-forward to the time of Abraham Lincoln , who failed to carry his birth state, Kentucky, in 1860 or 1864. (His 1864 opponent, George B. McClellan, did not carry Pennsylvania, even though he was born in Philadelphia.)

Let us close with some familiar names of our time. Another presidential candidate who did not carry the state where he was born was Senator John Kerry, Democrat of Massachusetts, who was born in Colorado.

And the household name, Mr. President? That would be your father, George Herbert Walker Bush , born in the Town of Milton in eastern Massachusetts, a state he lost twice.

Saturday, August 19, 2006

Someone is obsessed

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Thursday, August 17, 2006

RE: Project Runway


dear greg, john, and i dont know you linda and pam but anyway, since i have
been on vacation i have not seen the last 2 or so episodes. i tried finding
on tv last night but i dont know where it is in durham and couldn't find it
in the tv guide, maybe they don't have it here. last week we were on the
yacht 3 or 4 days so missed it and it is wierd because in nyc the promise of
runway kept me going all week and here i haven't really thought about it too
much especially after keith got banished and then bradley it just seems like
a bunch of nutty peolple left over except for uli and maybe allison.
but yea i do miss seeing the creative process in action and do give them all
alot of credit for putting together whatever they do under such high stress
deadlines, competition and doing it all in front of a camera.

Rumi: Love is like a lawsuit

I am amazed at the seeker of purity
who when it's time to be polished
complains of rough handling.
Love is like a lawsuit:
to suffer harsh treatment is the evidence;
when you have no evidence, the lawsuit is lost.
Don't grieve when the Judge demands your evidence;
kiss the snake so that you may gain the treasure.
That harshness isn't toward you,
but toward the harmful qualities within you.
When someone beats a rug,
the blows are not against the rug,
but against the dust in it.

-- Rumi, c. 4008

Project Runway

I caught up with last week's show as well, since I fell asleep during the runway showing of the fashion icons.  Vincent's Twiggy was all wrong.

I thought Vincent should have been kicked off this week.  All the while he was making his dress, I thought it was ridiculous, throwing handfuls of confetti at it.  Then when it was presented, I was surprised that it seemed kind of fun to watch, but was completely impractical.  It probably fell apart the instant the model walked off the runway.  I felt sorry for Alison.  Her dress was bad, but she had a large model to work with, too, didn't she?  The producers are always thinking about good television, though, and they probably want Vincent to stay on because he's such a freak.  But I miss Bradley, who wasn't good television as a participant, but gave such a sweet farewell the week before.

I expected Jeffrey to win.  I really liked that dress, the colors, the design.  So did most viewers, according to the online poll.  And most people hated Vincent's the most.  http://www.bravotv.com/Project_Runway/rate/season/3/episode/6/results
Jeffrey's seemed to be the only one that didn't look like it was made out of recycled material.

I really like this show, although I care nothing for fashion, but I like that it shows a bunch of people working in a creative process, making creative decisions and doing the work, and then it shows the process of aesthetic criticism, the judges evaluating the work.  Two of my favorite things in one television show.  Maybe that's why I like cooking shows, too.

On 8/17/06, LMW wrote:
So, what did you think of the decision tonight on Project Runway?  I
guess they chose the right one, altho I did think that Vincent's long
white dress was rather odd, and since he bothers me to no end, I wish
it had been he who was voted off.  I rather like Alison.  And, I
guess I have absolutely no fashion sense because I rather liked
Kayne's dress, altho the makeup and hair were awful.  Actually,
I kind of liked Kayne's first skirt if you did away with the bottle
caps.

I think I really favored Uli's dress over Michael's that won.  And, I
sort of liked how Jeffrey's dress did not end up looking like
newspaper but did look like material in the end, altho I did not care for his "'tude" at the end.  Oh, and his tattoo looks to me like his
neck is dirty.  Laura really surprised me with her words to Vincent
at the end--I think he bothers her as much as me!!  She rather does
act like the group mother, tho.

So, what do your buds say about last night's episode?  Those judges
do not mince any words, tho, do they?  They are brash and direct--
makes me wonder, after putting a lot of work into those crazy ideas
the directors come up with (I mean, garbage????), it surprises me
that the designers do not break down and cry more often than they
do.........or at least curse or say "fuck" more often than they do.

The expressions on their faces make me excited to see what the
challenge will be for next week's episode.  So, when, just when is
Heidi going to start looking pregnant???

Wednesday, August 16, 2006

Having children

Eduardo and I went to see The Night Listener last night.  Well, we went to eat popcorn on free popcorn night, but we saw The Night Listener.  In it, Robin Williams plays a gay late night radio storyteller.  His good friend played by Sandra Oh (I like her a lot) says something to him about the fact that he should have overcome his parents by his age.  He replies something to the effect of "good luck with that."

I gave my dad a copy of my Guatemala book to read a couple of weeks ago in some burst or attempt at connection.  Thought he might be interested in something his son had written.  He brought it back about a day later, said he'd read about a hundred pages but found he had to go to the dictionary too often.  "I don't know why you wanted me to read that," he said.  Guess it wasn't enough about saving souls from Hell.

I read Andrew Holleran's wonderful short book set in D.C., "Grief," a few weeks ago, about a gay man pondering the meaning of grief as he teaches a class on AIDS and reads the letters of Mary Todd Lincoln.  His mother had just died in Florida before he moved to D.C.  In the end, he realizes, with beautiful sadness, that overcoming your parents, overcoming your family....  probably just isn't going to happen.

There's a sort of horror in watching your children grow, knowing you are trying to help them, knowing you love them and not knowing exactly why, and knowing that you are doing a number on them, no matter what you do.

I'm running away to Latin America, someday.

A dream

It has taken me an hour to recover from the dream I had last night. It is now 5:30 in the morning and I am sitting at the computer in my white briefs, as usual, typing as I have been for the last hour. But I have barely shaken the dream. I was attending a screening of a film made by Sharon, a black woman who used to be the secretary where I once worked, but she was stealing from various vendors in the mall complex where the screening was to take place. She was stuffing audio books into the coats and packages of her friends, convincing them that it was OK. When I realized I had been party to this, I tried to get away, terrified one of us would end up in prison. Walking from one side of the mall to the other, I nearly fell over a waterfall and held on to a ledge by by hands, while people nearby looked on in concern and alarm and I was embarrassed. Sharon was still trying to convince me that her actions were acceptable practice. Lee and Lyn came to the screening of the film. I was asked what I thought after the film aired and I said there was commercial potential for this minor, independent film. But my attempts at careful praise were met with more than scorn, they were met with vindictiveness, the mob turned against me, Lyn stole my car and drove with Lee inside, recklessly away, no one would even have coffee with me, Nate Kohn was there, shaking his head, no one would help me, I proceeded to walk away, to try to get back to a home I was convinced was probably no longer even there, and it seemed Sharon and her friends and their film were going to be a success, that my comments were of no use, they had denigrated a film effort that was obviously more informed and better made than my old school way of looking at things could ever understand. Barefoot, friendless, I began the long walk back, away, perhaps to homelessness, alone, the world disgusted by my insistence that stealing was wrong. Everyone else was drinking expensive coffee drinks and wearing the clothes of aesthetes and artists. I was shoeless. I didn't even know where my car was. I was out of place. No matter where I went or tried to go, I was out of place.

I know this has something to do with my upcoming IRS audit. How can the poorest man be audited TWICE by the IRS -- and it costs to be audited, in time and bank records, it costs me money I don't have, sending me deeper into debt -- and how can the victim not become paranoid that there is a plot behind this? The last time I was audited, I had to give up freelance writing as a primary means of income, because I did not understand the vagaries of bookkeeping. I tried getting a job. That didn't work out so well either. This time, even with an accountant and every attempt to be scrupulous in our complicated and unorthodox businesses of survival (for Pete's sake, I am a genital display model for university medical students, among everything else I do, and I haven't had a day off of work for NINE MONTHS, working seven days a week, not a single day), I'm still being audited or, as some would say, persecuted.

There is joy in this, real joy.

Only the dream disturbed me. I think I'm over it now. I have coffee. If I mention "Rantoul and Die," someone will read this.

Tuesday, August 15, 2006

Menno Poker Girls

Come to mama.

Sunday, August 13, 2006

Terror Alert -- Poker report incoming!

No one brought snacks, not counting the requisite root beer from the Admiral.
This was to be a serious night of poker.

Spike, the night's big winner ($8.55!) laughed maniacally. TW expressed awe at PG's run of "miracle hands" -- a tricky full house in straight five-card draw game and a surprising flush. The Admiral used new bluffing strategies and refined his poker face, taking $2.10 by evening's tally. And JD conferred out of the room with TW, trying to devise a Super Full House hand. JD also raised the bet during the anarchy round. Given that he usually folds, this was a first of some proportion.

Two new games were introduced. One, Between the Sheets, put scowls on everyone's face, but the pot became extremely large, especially when TW drew a card that matched one of the showing cards and had to double the pot. Because that amount was more than anyone could count, and because all the players are good Christians, it was decided to limit the indebtedness to $2, but TW never recovered from the blow.

The evening had more $2 bets to come. The stakes ran high all night. But, in the end, because the good Christian players let Spike win and laugh maniacally, all players ended up in the black, which is a miracle no one knows how to resolve.

The other new game was called Best Flush and has nothing to do with the toilet adjoining the playing table, although the anarchy round was dealt with The Admiral inspecting that same toilet. He did not object to being out of the room as cards were dealt, because after all, Jake, it's Anarchy.

Anarchy was a topic of discussion. Mulch is so five minutes ago. The Catholic Worker House Anarchists can be heard in several radio interviews, links to which are listed here:

http://www.will.uiuc.edu/willmp3/ktf060806.mp3

http://will.uiuc.edu/am/ktf/default.htm

http://pgregoryspringer.com/8am/wrfu/wrfu.html

Ultimately, TW folded during the anarchy round. And he won, regardless.

In the choice between going to church, attending family reunions, visiting gravestones, or playing poker on Wood Street on Thursday nights, there is little doubt where all righteous believers do belong.

PG

Tuesday, August 08, 2006

Traffic Court


After all the hours I spent thinking about what I was going to say and how to say it, they practically booted me out after a minute.  The case had been dismissed.  The cop had stayed safely back in Homer preying upon the innocent.  I guess it may have paid off to write Homer's mayor, who asked me to reconsider my decision to avoid Homer and to cancel all my business dealings with the town.  At this point, I am considering reconsidering, but not yet reconsidering. 

Onwards to the IRS audit!

Saturday, August 05, 2006

Two old Mexican men sitting by a cactus in Cholula, drinking pulque, laughing, argue over Ozymandias versus Ecclesiastes

We are Ken. Ken is the Flower, the Epitome, the Inevitable. Since the first War over Taxes, since Benjamin Franklin said, "Let us be wise, early to bed, wealthy, and Ken," since the Constitutional Convention, since "Happiness"was euphemized from the original "Property" until "Sustainable" came to mean "Eternally Never," since corporations became legal human beings, our own flag-waving Frankenstein monsters, since the lynching of slaves until the beheading of soldiers, we have been on the road to Ken. Whitman and Melville more or less missed out; Whitman tried, but... too gay. Melville evaporated into his clerk books. 9/11 was for Ken. And then we die.

We own and die, like Ken. We eat at Applebee's and Le Cirque, and then we die. We buy Big Houses like Ken and no one wants to clean them, except those who are not yet Ken, who have to learn to speak Ken's language. Oprah screams, A New Car... for Ken. The price is right: A New Car. Perhaps a Boat. Something to polish. Something smooth and green to mow. And then we die. But we were Ken. Let the world never forget: we were Ken.

The war has been lies, lies, and damnable lies, and failure, failure, failure, says Hilary. And we should trust you this time because...?

Because I am Ken, answers Rumsfeld. Because of my goodness. My goodness.

All who are Ken relish and thrive on Perpetual Global Conflict, but the legacy of Ken will clearly be the Conundrum, the simple phrase that followers of Ken believed, that Oxymoron, that Impossible Hope: "Military Solution."

Not even Ken saw the End coming. He came, he saw, he conquered, he bought brand names. He was branded, the greatest brand name of all. He was Ken.

and then we lay ourselves down and die but without ken

The Hardest Part

Friday, August 04, 2006

What to say in court

I am here to register a statement about driving through Homer. I cannot confirm or deny that I was speeding on the day the ticket was issued, since I was driving safely, stopping in fact, and pumping gasoline at the gas station when the policeman approached me. I was not pulled over. I was working on my daily delivery route, delivering individual newspapers to individual rural customers, my job for over six years. Careful driving, personalized delivery, and a clean record are something I want to maintain.

In these years of delivery, I have been stopped by Homer's policeman three times and my hired drivers have also at least once. These were not cases of speeding or reckless driving, but the result of excessive diligence from a policeman with too little to do.

On the day in question, I delivered a paper to the residence of Terry Wolf on the outskirts of Homer. The posted speed limit there is 55, although I am sure I could and would not have reached this speed, because my car was stopped. I drove from Wolf’s to the stop sign on Main Street, where I came to a second complete stop, crossed the street to the Marathon Station that I have regularly patronized several times a week, over the last years. I was filling my tank when the policeman drove up behind me and told me I had been speeding into town.

I also think he was not happy about the bumper sticker that reads IMPEACH on my Prius.

I told him I had not been speeding; he did not claim to recognize me from before. He wrote me the ticket.

I have since stopped driving into Homer at all. I personally spoke with the mayor of Homer and the gas station operator and told them that I would no longer be able to patronize Homer business, since the risk of entering the town -- perhaps more occupied with the routine delivery of newspapers and not the speedometer -- one is likely to exceed the speed limit and the policeman laying in wait is too risky. I don't trust myself enough to drive between the shifting speed limits --- now 55, now 30, now 35, now 20 -- within this short distance. It is better to avoid the town altogether.

And that is what I have done since this ticket was issued. The mayor said sincerely he hoped I would reconsider. I am considering reconsidering, but right now I am not reconsidering. It is easy enough to re-route my delivery route to avoid the town.

I simply wanted to express this officially, to say to the policeman and the court that I was not speeding, that driving is my livelihood and I take much care and personal attention to each and every customer -- 170 in all -- that I deliver too in the four hours and 150 miles of driving I do each day in the rural countryside.

I would ask the court to find me not guilty of speeding. However, if that is not to be, I am content to continue as I have done, avoiding Homer in my deliveries. I am comfortable and do not feel a sense of threat in any other town I pass through or have passed through in delivery. In every other place, in the country or in towns such as Sidney, Villa Grove, Philo, Broadlands, Allerton, St. Joseph, and Urbana that I have regular occasion to drive through, I feel confident in doing so. Since I cannot feel a sense of safety in entering Homer, I have removed it from my delivery route.

Was I speeding on the day I received the ticket? To my knowledge, I was not. I have no further plea.

Thursday, August 03, 2006

escape velocity (guest blog by bubbles)


refer to this video

"take your work today
was good
greg.
i like when the horse turns into an elephant and the scary truck on
the dirt road you must get repetitive strain injury all that leaning
out to the side you should have a special vehicle that lets you be
in the middle of the car and can reach easily r or l
i watched it with interpol on and it was beautiful. was there a
hitchhiker in the cornfield with his overalls down to his waist. it
went by so fast,
i watched the movie sipping valerian tea washing down ambien cr, it;s
nice when make you clumsyf lumsy.sort of like drunk but clean like
your not going to throw up and your not bloated and you don't have to
keep drinking your set as soon as you swallow.
it's real sticky and hot here but the only time i feel yucky is in
the air condition places, they bring me down. just lets not have all
this air conditioning. i sit by a fan on a towel on a chair and a
wife beater and am cool. need another spot of tea.
my schedule this summer is what i have chosen to do orkind of what i
do without pretense. possible that some ambition is not there. i
write these little tidbits of journaling and throw in a photo and
think i am doing art. i don't have any story to tell. for a rocket to
get past the earths orbit, it has to go 25thousand miles an hour, its
called ev escape velocity. i need to get some ev going somewhere in me.
i see there is yet another allen johannsen movie coming out.
the smartest thing allen did in matchpoint was not be in it. this hew
movie looks like match point except he gets a chance at her. it looks
really embarrasing. wonder what that child he bought and married
thinks of this,"



for more of bubbles, see Scout Loves Bubbles at scoutlovesbubbles.blogspot.com

Wednesday, August 02, 2006

Numbers (Mott the Hoople Version)




Mott the Hoople sings "Death May Be Your Santa Claus."

movie thoughts

scoop: it's hard to adjust when woody allen puts on a new face. instead of fawning over scarlett johanssen, he makes fun of her and how she looks. says she looks like petunia pig! he is a good magician, not a schmuck for a change. that's really quite funny. was that hammersmith palais in the background? he's great at location shots, whether manhattan orlondon. nice extended, choreographed shot early on, with characters walking on and off, interacting. no cuts. he could have used more of that. when he makes a comedy, we anticipate there's a punch line or pay off in each scene. there isn't one in the poker playing scene, for example, no joke there. ultimately, it's a subtle and funny and -- like Lady in the Water -- ultimately watchable. it's too hot to judge and criticize. every movie doesn't have to be a blockbuster or masterpiece. both those movies are serviceable, enjoyable experiences. kudos.

clerks II: pasolini pere ubu homosexual donkey sex jesus t-shirts joyful michael jackson dancing a movie of philosophy light years better than average teen movies
(excerpt: lord of the rings trilogy is walking even the trees walk. first movie, walk. second movie, walk. third movie, walk and drop ring)
(review: when spontaneous laughter can be generated, one must immediately suspend judgment and go with it or be a grinch)

miami vice: nice shots of colombia.
no desire to be any of these people, to do what they do or have what they have
what is their motivation? they already have enough, don't they? why keep on?
how much money do you need?
isn't about the money, it's about the life of crime itself that propels them?
everybody has to work, even criminals.
nobody knows how to smell the roses.
not enough brakhage for my taste
the digital video photography either not compelling or abstract enough to engage by itself, i guess the mark of a good narrative filmmaker
(review: preferred clerks II)