Liberty

Many people were against the "liberation" of Iraq and many discussions and politicing have gone on during and since. The reasons for invasion were varied, but the one people seemed to hone in on the most was the idea of freeing a tyranized people. Now if that were the case alone most people would back the idea of liberation for the people of Iraq, but doesn't it begin to seem like the motivation for "freeing" the Iraqi people was initiated entirely by something other reason? You could make the argument that it was to destroy the countries weapons of mass destruction, but then again you would have to be able to find them to prove they actually existed . Its a big country though. I'm sure they are hidden somewhere special away from anywhere a military installation might be. For now, though, we must concede that Iraq had no weapons of mass destruction (at least to the degree the US govt would have us beleive) and that the country was of no imminent threat to anyone other than themselves. "He was a brutal dictator who had to be removed for the good of the people." I don't disagree with that sentiment. He was a monster there is no doubt. So......now that one monster is down who is next? Why stop at one villain? Why not try to bring peace to the rest of the world? Recently we have been hearing more about the problems of the Congo. Nevermind that for years there has been war there and that over a million have died there in the last ten years. The Ugandan forces have pulled out and left the country feuding once again. So where are these great liberators? Lots of people being killed in the Congo and the everyday people are repressed and murdered without cause. Where is Tony Blair? Where is George Bush? This is where you can make the case that Iraq was a grab for oil resources. One of the first missions for "coalition" troops was to protect oil wells. Apparently this was for the Iraqi peoples interest and had nothing to do with the fact that the French, Germans and Russians would lose huge contracts for oil development leaving control to the US. It had nothing to do with tearing down a very rich resource country and gaining all the contracts to rebuild it with payment being made in the form of free oil. Tell me it had nothing to do with geo-political power. If it wasn't a resource grab and these governments were actually concerned for the well being of the freedom of the Iraqi people could we not expect to see peace keepers in resource poor countries such as Rwanda or the Congo? Oh wait! There are peacekeepers in the Congo. French peacekeepers. Enjoy your freedom fries.

Young Darkcloud

Leaning against the railing she looks over at me almost smiling, looking unsure, but strangley happy not unlike the mood created by an opium high or a manic moment. As I approach she comes up the steps a little like she wants to meet me. I put on my sour grownup face and walk by ignoring her. I can see something is not right. The energy all about her is all wrong. She slinks back down the stairs to await for her bus making eye contact with me one last quick moment. I'm around the corner and out of sight. Back into the building and onto the elevator I go back to warm quiet safety. Everyone is sleeping here. I can't stop thinking about her.
Its late in the evening as I make my way to the river where my medicine wheel sits. As I walk along the path I am startled by movement across from me. I squint into the darkness and see its a deer. No, its two....three deer. Three deer looking at me. The first bows its head to me and walks on. The second follows suit and then the third. I feel like woodland royalty. Elated. I watch them go until they are out of site and even then I stand my ground relishing the few moments that just passed. Finally, I make way to the medicine wheel and go into a meditation. I feel energized and peaceful. I climb back up the bank and follow the path out to the building grounds. At the border there she is. She's taking a late night walk of her own. Yound Darkcloud swimming in wavering energy. This time we greet one another and she seems surprised that I say hello. We then go our seperate ways and I begin to wonder why/who she is. I can't stop thinking about her. Why such a dark cloud? Are you all alone? Did something happen to you? Why can't I stop thinking about you?
Out I go again to walk the dog for the last time of the day. We walk around the building and as we come around the last corner we cross ther road to allow a neighbour and her old grouchy dog to procede. I walk around the bushes and back across the road past a taxi waiting for a fare. I open the front door to the building and there she is coming towards me with flowers in her hair wearing a trench coat. Some of the dress/evening gown sneaks out from under the trench coat and blinds me in a tacky mesmerizing floral pattern. I open the door for her and say hello and study her too painted face. She returns a hello but looks away as if shamed for some reason or maybe its disdain for me being a man. I don't know. I don't turn to see. I walk into the elevator she just departed. It smells of lavendar and earth and it brings me to her. Where are you going young Darkcloud? Out on a call? Is that your little secret? Is that why your soul is wavering so? Will you return with those flowers in your hair? Why do I care?

Remembrances of Stupid

Stupid was a student who worked with us for a summer on the railway once upon a time. I asked him once "Do you really not mind people calling you stupid?" to which he responded "I don't care one bit. They can call me anything they want." At the time I thought this guy must be pretty sure of himself and I couldn't help but keep my eye on him from then on. He seemed a well-adjusted young college student who knew what he wanted and was very socioable. The guys seemed to like him fine and he was a good worker. Still, why the name stupid. He had only worked on the railway a month before I got on with this gang. I asked the fellows why they called him stupid and they just said because he was. I though they were all pretty stupid to begin with, so I was surprised they would actually beleive he was worse off than they. I worked with stupid for a few months and being that he was a student and I had no seniority we usually got stuck together along with another new guy we called "Schmengie of the Schmengie Brothers". He was an alcoholic and really burnt out, but we managed to have some laughs. We were sentenced to pull out old service wire along the tracks and roll them into coils using a manual track machine. It was hard work and we always had cuts on our arms from wire snaps. One day we couldn't get time on the track (when a train was near we were made to pull off to one side. We pulled the machine off the track and sat in the shade for lunch. There was a big delay so we wound up just relaxing in the shade. Stupid got bored and for fun took a peice of chipboard he found off the trackside and threw it in the middle of the track. He then decided to pour fuel (the machines gas supply) onto the board and set it on fire. We said "Stupid, what the hell are you doing?" Stupid just told us to relax and that it wouldn't hurt anything. Schmengie and I looked on. He had a nice little fire going and decided to add a little more fuel. When it died down he added more fuel. He tilted the gas can again to spill more fuel on the fire and suddenly had an amazed look about him. The fire had crawled up the gas and onto the plastic gas can. He kept pouring the gas out in hopes of it flooding the fire out. The flames of course grew higher and the plastic gas can was melting. He frantically spun the gas can in a circle around him surrounding himself in a wall of fire. He began to yell "What do I do, what do I do?" We were laughing too hard to be of any use. He jumped out of the ring of flames and dropped the gas can. Schmengie yelled "Bury the sonofabitch, Stupid". which he did. Even a burntout alcoholic had more sense. Stupid buried the gas can and a few minutes later brought what was left of our fuel and a severely disfigured gas can back to us. "Stop laughing guys. Its not funny. I'm in serious shit. What am I going to tell the boss?" It was then that I knew why the name. My answer of course was "Tell him you're stupid, Stupid".

Those Darn Americans

From the Fox Network comes a new show called "Stupid People on Video". Another brilliant concept. We decided we had to watch it just for the name alone. My favourite was the two mascots fighting. The video showed an "Indian" fighting a "Demon" apparently started by the "Indian". Punches and kicks were thrown, but when it was all said and done it turned out pretty equal (especially considering they both were wearing foam rubber suits. The "Demon" lost his head, but wound up on top of the "Indian". Post interview of the fight was very compelling. Imagine if you will the gay "Demon" mascot lisping "I said dude this is just pretend. We're mascots and you are taking this way too serious". Cut scene to the "Indian" mascot who offers this pearl of redneck wisdom : "His head come off real easy like. I had a strap on my head. Every good mascot knows you need to strap your head down.". The last video of the show was of a man being chased by a mule. Apparently the man was trying to releive himself when a very amorous mule happened along. A lovers chase ensued ending in the mule pinning the man to the ground and having its way with him. It seems homosexuality is not confined to humans. Yes, ladies and gentlemen, we were given a glimpse inside the realm of beastiality on Fox TV. The funniest thing about the incident is that they hazed out the mans bare ass and the mules genitalia. I thank them for sparing me the details (ie. penetration or not?), but seriously...its a mule cock for chrissakes!

Crush, Kill, Destroy

It seems everywhere we go these days we are to be bombarded by media ads. Did you know that they now have commercials running on monitors mounted in buses, taxis, bank machines, grocery stores? You name it they got it. Its not enough we get bombarded by spam, phone calls, billboards etc...now they are putting these ads where we are captive. Its like some giant commercial prison we can't escape unless we make like Logans Run or Bladerunner and escape into the wilderness. Soon we will have communes of people living in the wilderness foraging for edible roots to sustain themselves in order to read the complete works of William Shakespeare. I am hopeful that the whole system will collapse in on itself. That the point will come where we can't afford anything more than the very basics. That the multi-nationals, in all their greed, will have finally bled us to the point of no return. Then there will be no more money for ads in taxis. I am a dreamer.

Ha ha, sucker!

I'm a sucker for the television. I know if I turn it on there will be nothing on it to watch and I will just flip through the channels, sometimes for hours, staring at no one thing in particular. I will become one of those "idiots" that defines the term "idiot box" so devinely. Mesmerized by images telling me how to fix everything in my life from how to get sex on demand to how to get money on demand all the time on my terms. The only time I ever get sex on demand is when I'm alone. The only time I get money on demand is when the bank calls and demands I pay my overdraft off. OMG Sailor Moon is on----Later

I just came in from walking my dog "The Mic-maq Attack" and was taken with a thought. As soon as I exited the building in which we live we (the dog and I) were greeted with loud talking, laughing etc...(alcohol sounds) from across the street. It seems there was a gathering of sorts and a celebration was at hand. I began to think how awful it would be if I was their neighbour. It pisses me off to no end when I am kept awake by unthoughtful people. Then I thought "Well, what if they invited the neighbours. That would be cool." Then I thought "What if they didn't invite the neighbours. What if they just said the neighbours could go fuck themselves." Maybe it was more like "Lets party. Who gives a crap about them white assholes." or any ethnic slur that comes to your mind. It struck me that people do tend to objectify those of another race much more than they would their "own". We see it on a daily basis and every society has a long list of rationalizations for feeling and saying the things they do. This is of course a generalization. There are people in this world who are colour blind and tolerent of other ideas, but I think overall its a rarity. Of course you could shove my whole premise out the window by just stating "It was just a fucking party" and you wouldn't be wrong for it. Of course, you wouldn't be right either.

I never seem to follow through with these things, but this morning my intention is to begin writing with more regularity. The only obstacles I really face are laziness and a lack of material on which to pontificate about. If I stick with this I can see me writing often about spirituality (or lack thereof), politics (I'm for the people not the money) and human nature (we're all fucking nuts). I'm sure I haven't impressed you as yet, but stick with me. I am told I grow on people like a find mold often will. I've gotten over my fascination with topics such as "How Many Beers Can You Drink Before Passing Out", "Chicks With Dicks" and "Farts" so if this seems a dissapointment to you it will only get worse for you. I suggest you leave now, crack open a cold one, find some "tasteful" pornography on the net and hit the Mexicali food heavily.

Da Da Ta Da Da TAAAAAAA (or---for want of a better title)

My "wife" is very funny. She, this very morning, told me not to be stupid because I was pulling her pj's down in the kitchen. To my way of thinking-----whats so stupid about that? Thats fun!!! Its great!!!!

Halos

I was looking in the mirror trying to see my aura when a thought popped into my little wee head. It started as rememberences of renaissance paintings where the artists would depict angelic people with halos. It made me think that halos were an accepted depiction of ones aura and that all people had a halo except for those souls who had gone so far down an unspiritual path that their halo had been, over a period of time, reduced to barely discernable to not being there at all. Somewhere along the way the catholic church got a hold of this concept and incorporated it into their religion when in reality the halo was a signifier of how connected a person was to the real spiritual world. This is just a little theory of mine of course. For the record guys, women love a man with a big bright halo. Men love a woman with a nice shiny halo too.

Musical Morning

"Steal a little and they throw you in jail/steal a lot and they make you king"-----Bob Dylan

Aint that the truth.

Anger Management Subway Ride

I got on the subway and was immediately hailed by an old occasional teacher I had worked with while I was an education assistant. I remember him well as he was quite loopy. The children kept looking at me as he tried to teach the lessons left by
their regualr teacher. I wound up teaching most of the lessons myself as he seemed to get frequently lost in thought. Some reverie, perhaps of himself floating on an innertube down the St. Lawrence River holding the secret of Atlantis, that interupted his teaching the concepts of integers. "So, boys and girls, if you have -2 multiplied by -3 the answer would be.........wow. Look at all the pop bottles". This is where I would step in. In any case, I entered the subway to this man yelling "HEY RICHARD. RICH. ITS ME DOUG." He was of course at the other end of the car. I sheepishly walked the length of the car to sit next to him. Doug only has one volume. Its intolerably loud. The formalities were quickly dealt with so he could leap into-----> "I'VE JUST COME FROM AN ANGER MANAGEMENT CLASS FOR OCCASIONAL TEACHERS." He said this smiling. Its eerie when someone smiles whilst saying 'anger management'. "I HAVE THIS REALLY FREAKY PARTNER. HE GAVE ME A NOTE AND DO YOU KNOW WHAT IT SAID? IT SAID 'IT IS IMPOSSIBLE TO FIND GOD IN THE REALM OF PLEASURE'." "Oh" I said. "YES. SO I SAID 'WHAT ABOUT S&M? THATS PAINFUL YET PLEASUARBLE. I IN FACT LIKED TO BE SPANKED ON OCCASION'. HE GOT REALLY ANGRY AT ME AND WROTE ME ANOTHER NOTE WHICH READ 'KEEP YOUR DISTANCE AND WATCH YOUR TONGUE YOU SERVANT OF LUCIFER'. NOW HOW DO YOU LIKE THAT? HE'S MY PARTNER FOR THE REST OF THE SEMINAR TOO. OOPS, ITS MY STOP. GOOD TO SEE YOU RICH. MAYBE SEE YOU IN THE CLASSROOM AGAIN HUH." I had eight more stops to go before I reached my station. Eight stops of curious, frightened, scolding, smiling, you name it faces checking me out. Sizing me up and wondering "Is this guy a nut too?" "How do these people become teachers?" In Dougs case, he will never become a full time teacher. The board is so short on substitutes that people like Doug are kept on supply lists. I've worked with worse. I hope none of the people on the subway work for the board personnel office.

Why we can't be friends

I watched an interview on CBC tonight. They always seem to do a pretty fair job of assessing world events as long as one remembers they are, of course, born into western philosophy. It seems certain that Bush will attack Iraq no matter what inspectors find. This is just a ploy really. Every obstacle you throw in front of him to keep peace will eventually be overturned in his quest to make America oil rich and free to rule the world. What does this mean to me as a Canadian? Besides the fact that world war 3 is a very real possibility, it also means that my countries borders may no longer be as secure. America needs water and we are very rich in that area. Whats to stop them from taking it? I guess its time for us all to start dusting off all the prophecies again, huh. What I can't understand is how businessmen get elected to important positions that effect everyday people. People are only a commodity to the business world. The business world does not care if your children need medical attention. They do not care if you are impoverished. They do not care that you are dying from HIV. But, if you have a few bucks to toss about? You're then a person. First rule of the todays world-----> a friend in greed is a friend indeed.

Prison?

I live in a condominium. Its quite nice really. We sit beside a river, have parkland all around. I've even seen a fair amount of wildlife of late---deer, coyote, owl, eagle. One idea I can't seem to get over is that I see these buildings, for there are four of them on the property, as a prison system. Most of the inhabitants are elderly so you are always being eyed. Everyone must follow the rules. We can't have anything to upset the balance or someone may have a coronary. Its true----the paramedics are here on an almost daily basis. Most of the people here are miserable. There are a few really fantastic people here, but for the most part people in these here parts are miserable at being old and in pain, not finding any meaning in their lives, afraid of death, who knows what else. There is an old woman in my building who wanders making sure all the rules are being followed. She even spies on people from her balcony with her binoculars. Another spends her days collecting golfballs from the perimeter of the golfcourse north of us. This is how she spends her entire day---searching for golfballs for her son who comes to visit her about once a month. She's yelled at me a few times so I don't acknowledge her existence anymore. Back to prison. When you look at all the units from your own you get the eerie feeling that its a little box you live in not unlike a cell. You often see people walking about the grounds like you see on prison grounds with inmates walking around in circles. Same here. These people just walk around the buildings. "You have to keep moving" is often heard. While I do not disagree that some exercise would prolong ones life I can't help thinking why would many of these people want to. I mean they have no life to begin with really. I was reading a bio on a native shaman who had some musings on white society. He could not see the sense in it and I tend to agree with him. This system is set up for the good of a few, not the good of the many for the most part. Anyone who thinks capitalism is a great system is fat, stupid and entirely too sheltered. I say it should be mandatory for every person in north America to go to a 3rd world nation to live for a year. If they survive they of course can return home. If the are still a capitalist at that point I would be surprised. Anyway, thats my rambling for now. A prison with no fences or barbed wire, but a prison just the same.

Aliens?
I figured out how they make those alien sounds in movies. You know the kind ; the heroes are gathered around a radio receiver and can here static and squeal sounds when all of a sudden a young child, idiot savant or a peaceful minded individual says "Wait! Listen! Its them. They're trying to communicate with us." etc.... The truth of the matter is that those sounds are actually emanating from a baby monitor that is too close to a microwave oven. Its true. I had left my tea sit too long and put it in the microwave to warm up. The baby was sleeping in her crib. I heard static and squeals and immediately felt panic stricken. I donned a metal calandar, a broom and a lemurian crystal (known for its universal power) and bravely headed for the bedroom of my infant. She was sleeping soundly. Oblivious to the clear and present danger and to me as I made sure she was breathing and unmarked ie. any sign of microchip implant, fang marks, etc...there was no visible trace of alien life in this room. I decided to put up a force field of blue star energy to make sure she was well defended against any further sortes staged by these alien vermin. I then went back to the kitchen and found my tea had cooled. I reheated the tea in the microwave when I heard them again. They were back and I knew there was gonna be trouble.

Ewan McTeagle Update

Yes, its true poetry fans, the rumours are a reality. The great Scottish poet Ewan McTeagle has indeed left a larger legacy than first thought. Most famous for his poem 'Can I Have Fifty Pounds to Mend the Shed?' which reads :
Can I have fifty pounds to mend the shed?
I'm fight on my uppers.
I can pay you back.
When this postal order comes from Australia.
Honestly.
Hope the bladder troubles getting better.
Love, Ewan.
It was a majestic sweeping poem which was simplistic, yet intense in its feeling for the Scottish Highlands. It seems that the grandaughter of Lassie O'Shen and the camera man, Karl Urdink, of the then famous interview of said grandmother found a box containing three more poems that had been stowed away in secret. When asked where she found them the grandaughter, who was named after her prestigious ancestor, was quoted as saying "Och, I dinna know who McTeagle was and I thought it was just tripe." Lassie Urdink also went on to say that she was made aware of the fact that she may have found a lost treasure when she read a note left with the poems written by her grandmother which read "You may have found a lost treasure." Among the poems were also some musings from the lesser known poet Shamus McHatt which included the controversial "IOUAEwe" and also an unfinished peice which many beleive to have sparked the creative imaginings of "The Rolling Stones" for their hit 'Hey You, Get Off of MY Cloud' which of course was entitled 'Hey McLeod, get offa ma ewe.' These articles can all be examined by the public on Christmas Eve at Westminster Abbey. Don't fret if you can't make it then as it will also be shown at "Bill and Edna Boyle's Curio Emporium" at 5557 Cantenickle Park Drive the second Tuesday after Phil Collins Day which coincidentally is the birthday of McTeagle, the day on which all good little sheep must get sheared, the last time Leicester won a game in Liverpool and Shaugnessy's Sock Outlet's blowout extravaganza.

Where do I begin? This is the moment where one is forced to narrow down the thousands (?) of subjects floating through their synapses to just one thought. To focus on that thought and expand on it. To let it grow, blossom, evolve into a statement, philosophy, tirade. This is part of the human thinking process. Its what has allowed humanity to develop and to evolve into the world we now live in today. All due to the process of concentrating on one strain of thought at a time. Failing that, of course, one can always opt for the fart joke.