Monthly Archives: February 2008

Strange Daze Indeed.

What a dream or was it dreams…..

I really gotta stop taking those damn SP’s before I go to bed.

So the next thing I know is that I am looking at some sort of rocket or space capsule that is stuffed full of people.  I am not sure who they are but I do know that they are politicians cuz they are all talking and saying nothing.

OK so I am sitting in this field, who the fuck knows where and all of a sudden the space ship blasts off into the sky.  Cool.  I then notice there is a baseball glove at my feet.  Weird.

Next thing I know some lady walks by with this little dog, a beagle I think, with a ton of gold chains around its neck – like it’s the Mr. T of Beagles.  The little fucker comes right over and it pisses on my shoe and the baseball glove.

“What the fuck,” I shout at the lady.

She spins around says, “listen here, you shouldn’t be sitting around on the ground, doing nothing but watching spaceships go round,” and then disappears into sunlight calling her dog’s name, “come on Winnstral.”

Weird.  It’s then that I notice my foot, the one the dog pissed on, feels like it is 10 times the size of the other one.  That’s when I see it.

The baseball glove that also got pissed on is like the size of an old school satellite dish. 

What’s cool is that when I try to pick it up I realize it weighs that same as a typical baseball glove.  

It’s about this time I see the Beagle running back at me, accept this ain’t no ordinary Beagle.  It’s got green booger shit shooting from it’s nose and it’s making a horrible sound. 

I grab the giant baseball glove, get up and start running.  Running is kinda hard cuz one foot feels like the size of a refrigerator.

I manage to hobble over to the rows of flower like things.  Weird, one row is gray, black and the other red and orange.  Somehow I manage to leap over the flowers but in my haste I fall down.  Shit here comes that crazy Beagle.

Ahhhh, huh, nothing happens, the dog stops at the row of flowers….for some reason it can’t cross them.

It’s at this point I force myself to wake up because the dream was even too weird for me.

I get outta bed to answer natures call and then climb back into bed.

As soon as my head hits the pillow I am right back into the same dream.  Weird how that happens.

Now I am in the field with about 100 people all around me and we’re all looking into the sky.  It’s then that I realize I have this giant baseball glove on my hand.  I look back into the sky when I see it – It’s the spaceship filled with politicians and it is plummeting back to the earth and I have to catch it.

In my dream I remember standing there as the spaceship got closer and closer and just before it hit me and the glove I woke up.

Whoa, that’s fucked up. 

I rub my eyes and notice I had left the TV on all night and at that particular moment the news dude was talking about some satellite that is outta control and is gonna be shot down by the US government.

I grab my coffee and start to listen.

Hmmm, the satellite was launched in Dec of 2006 (US 193) and now is called defunct? Me thinks there’s more afoot.  Waddya think the possibility of US 193 is powered by some sort of nuke power plant?  Hmmmm, maybe that’s why we need to shoot it down. 

Shooting it down….wow…..pretty weird

As the late, great John Lennon said, “Strange days indeed.”


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Another day! Yeah!

We went out last night, tipped a couple of pints for Mr. Lowell and shared some pretty funny stories that had hidden themselves in the far corner of my brain about the big dog.  We got home home, crashed and had a great nights sleep and woke up to a beautiful sunny day here in the Happy Valley.

Life is pretty neat that way.  Another sunrise another dawn.  A new day with a clean slate.  It reminds me of this Buddha board I bought in December.

It’s a pretty cool thing in that you use a brush and water to make designs on this slate like board.   After a while the water dries and the design you made goes away presenting you with a clean slate/mind to create again.  It is a great example of the need to live in the moment and reinforces the concept of impermanence one the essential concepts of Buddhism.

I’ve written before that the most important decision you make starts before you put your feet on the floor in the morning.  Is it going to be a good day or is it going to be a bad day?

Trust me, if you think it’s gonna be a bad day, it will.

Make today special, feel the love, bring the love, share the love – karma folks, karma….

The beautiful thing is that this time tomorrow we get to do it all over again.

Buddhism says yes, change is possible.
It tells us that no matter what our background,
each of us is the creator of his or her own destiny.
It tells us that our thoughts, our words,
and our deeds create the experience that is our future.

Lama Surya Das

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Good bye Old Friend


Damn, I am struggling.  

I have moments of when I am crying like a sissy and then hysterical laughter.  Damn, I hate this. 

My smile causes the tears stained streaks on my face to crack and itch.  

I am remembering the day my 100 pound Old English Sheepdog named Lowell first showed me that he loved to chase and catch a Frisbee.

Understand, Sheepdogs are not known for their grace and agility so the throw had to be perfect.

The throw had to take the Frisbee out in an arch and it had to angle back towards where Lowell was running and had to hang in the air just perfectly as he accelerated (I use that term loosely) under the Frisbee so he could leap and catch it. Okay,  a 3 inch vertical jump ain’t a leap, but to Lowell it was a leap.

With his long hair hanging down you could barely see the damn Frisbee in his mouth as his ran back to me to have me repeat the process.

Over and over I would throw the Frisbee and over and over he’d catch it and bring it back.  Usually, I was the one who would give up and retreat to the house with Frisbee shoulder.

Lowell would carry the damn Frisbee into the house, drop it on the floor and proceed to the water bowl to tame the thirst he had built up. 

We had our last Frisbee throw months ago.  Arthritis and age limited Lowell’s physical adventures over the past months but that didn’t diminsh the spirit that was Lowell.

Last night, Lowell past away and I am sad from a selfish perspective cuz it means I will never throw him a Frisbee again and I will miss that.  Lowell’s passing is a good thing because Lowell’s physical ability had broken down to the point where Lowell the spirit was being negatively impacted by his physicall issues. 

Lowell is the most pozitoodinally, independent spirit I have ever known.  Lowell embodied the saying, “I do what I want.”

Lowell was physically and spiritually a gentle giant.  Never in his 12 years did he ever bite anyone or anything.  If he was guilty of anything it would be over-loving.   When folks slept over the house for the first time I’d make sure I would get up early and let Lowell into their bedroom.  He’s walk right over and give them a big lick across the face.

What an alarm clock…..nasty, wet, sheep dog drool.  Ha!

I will miss his physical companionship.  He was always by my side and for a long time always in my bed.  For some reason he loved to sleep at the foot of the bed laying across my ankles…Weird dog. 

His greeting was simple – a wet nose and mouth into your crotch.  His family tree shows he comes from a long line of crotch nosers. He also loved to ride in the car.  He would sit in the back seat, right behind me (the driver) and ride shotgun with his head out the window, catching every scent on every breeze that went by the car.

Good bye old friend, I will miss seeing you bound after that Frisbee.  I won’t miss picking up the horse sized presents you’d leave in the house when I didn’t come home on time.

When I close my eyes my smile grows large as I think about the adventures we shared and I know it’s okay.  You may not be here physically, but you will always be here in spirit.

I just remembered a trip we took to Grout Pond in VT.  It was early spring and we hiked around the pond.  There were a number of bridges over recently thawed streams that if one stayed on you’d remain relatively dry.  Well we all went over the board bridges with no issue.  Not Lowell.  In his, “I do what I want” way he simply walked right through the stream.  Bridges be damned.  He’d come out soaking wet with a HUGE smile on his face.

Good bye old friend you’ll always be here.   Thanks.


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Dialing with Dollars – Telemarketing the Presidency

I answered the phone the other day and it was Mitt Romney.  Cool, so I said hello.  He didn’t respond.  Mitt, can you tell me why I should vote for you?

Damn it, no response.  Maybe it was a bad cell phone connection.

Mitt, you there?  Nothing.

Then I started, the recording.  Hi, I am Mitt Romney and I need you to come out…..blah, blah, blah, blah.  Shit he might as well have been pedalling vinyl siding….bastard.   

It’s gotten worse, when I came home last night I had 13 messages on my answering machine.   All of them from either Mitt, his wife, one of his campaign flunky’s, even his fucking dog left a message I think.

Years ago I signed up for that no call list.  Sort of like the no-fly over list but without airplanes.  No solicitors calling me at all hours.  Ah, peace at last.  That is until 3 days ago.  Super Tuesday changed all that.  Funny thing is, super Tuesday coincided with Fat Tuesday so that meant a day of booze, beads and boobies.

Super Fat Tuesday for me!

About 4 o’clock I remembered I had to vote.  Oops.  Damn, I gotta get my shit together…..I wonder if anyone has ever been arrested for voting while impaired?

I guess not or there would have been half of American voters in jail after the last presidential election….how else could have dubbya been elected….everyone who voted for him must have been impaired.

So I gathered up myself and got me over to the town office and promptly get checked off or in or whatever and went into the booth to vote.

That’s when I remembered Mitt and said to myself, fuck Mitt it’s Super Fat Tuesday and that means today I’m gonna vote for McCain just cuz he didn’t bug me.

No calls from McCain, I like that.  Then again, he probably can’t afford a cell phone so no wonder he ain’t calling me.

Anyway, I got me to thinking as I stood there drinking a cup of coffee, watching folks come in to the place to vote.  I got to thinking about the two party system and said to myself, self – “in the long run the two party system ain’t a terrible thing.  It sort of protects us from ourselves cuz in the long run we ain’t too smart when it comes to evaluating leadership.  That’s probably why it’s better to have 15 choices of peanut butter and 2 choices for president come November.”

Hmmmm, chunky or smooth….skippy or Jif….Not the candidates you tool, the peanut butter.  For whatever it’s worth, I am a smooth Jif guy when it comes to peanut butter and a firm supporter of the dude with the ability to turn a $5k bar tab into a campaign expense.  Go O!

Time to get another sip of Bourbon…..the nectar of the gods…..


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Coyotes, Tequila and Giant Babies

I am not sure what time it was when the hysterical shrill of the coyotes just outside jarred me from my stupor bowl slumber.  Bolting to my feet in an attempt to fend off the snarling, rabies infected hoard of flesh eaters I managed to knock the table over that had a number of half-empty beer bottles on it and most importantly, a bone dry bottle of Patron.  Phew, that could have been a tragedy of the worst kind.  There should be some kind of penalty for spilling even a drop of that wonderful agave nectar.

There it is again.  The coyotes or whatever evil thingees that roam the woods at night.

Shit, again, that maniacal, evil, screech.  A sound that could only come from the pen of  Stevie King.  Damn, those bastards seem to be right outside.

Whoa, I better sit down, my living room floor seems to have a few waves in it that it didn’t have a few hours ago and they seem to be getting bigger.

What the fuck happened?  I remember we started with a great base.  Eggs, sunny-side up.  Three of them with crispy bacon and a double order of wheat toast.

It is so critical to have enough toast to soak up to yoke.

Soak the Yoke! 

Then it was a stop at the liquor store.  Time to load up for the big game.  Good thing I got me a truck.  I remember lots of beer, tequila,  and synaptic provocateurs (SP for short).  Then it all gets a bit blurry.

There is no picture on the television when I jump to my feet, once again, propelled by the sound of the Coyotes. 

Damn, the fucking DVD recorder had long shut off.  The room is filled with that gray glow from the television being on but no video source being provided.

Sort of like that gray glow you see when you look deep into Dick and Dubbya’s eyes.  TV on but there ain’t no video….

I take a deep breath and swallow.  Yum, nothing worse than 3 hour old tequila spit.

Looking at my phone which was now lying in a puddle of warm Sierra Nevada beer I notice I have a few text messages.

Text messages – now there’s a great evolutionary step.  A generation from now the spoken word will be lost.  Every one will simply text one another….Fuckers.

The first four messages read:

congrats; great game; Giants suck; Baby vomit

Shit, fuck. I almost forgot the Giants won the super boll or was I simply playing with a super ball.

They beat the Perfectriots.  HA!

I think the Perfectriots were moving in for the kill when Tom Petty came into the game and over the outstretched arms of a screaming squirrel in a clown costume standing in the middle of the road he threw a bottle of coke into a bag of dorrito’s.  Then there was a giant baby that vomited all over the field and then the Giants road some kind of Giant blue Clydesdale Lizard to victory.

It’s getting clearer now. 

For weeks, maybe months the Perfectriots had been beating Obama and Clinton in all the games.  Routing them if I recall.  Towards the end they even whipped McCain and Romney.  The Perfectriots, dare I say it, were perfect. 

All the meteorologists predicted a blow out win and two feet of snow in the Happy Valley.  Not only were the Perfectriots the best of all time but they were also going to win the election in a landslide and plow the roads and shovel the sidewalks in less than 24 hours.  Shit, they got my vote.

Their leader is a little gnome.  He’s known as “the genius.”  Legions of followers blindly drink the kool-aid from his cup, wear his hoodie and chant, “In the gnome we trust.”  I fear that if they don’t come to their senses soon we could be looking at some form of mass suicide.  Like cuddly little Lemmings to the sea.

Damn, what really happened, how did the Giants actually win.

Did they have inside information from Michael Milken?  Did they have photo’s?  Dare I ask if they had videos……

Side Note:  Hey Senator Specter – good thing you have important things to do…..then again your single bullet theory was brilliant when you sold it to the warren commission….nice job

Yum, another tequila burp.

Where the heck was I?  I need more sp’s.  The Giants really won?

Fuck it, I can’t remember.  Oh yes, the Perfectriots didn’t win the game or the election and we didn’t get two feet of snow but the meteorologists kept their jobs and while Lennon read a book on Marx, the quartet practiced in the park…..Yikes….that was weird.

Where the hell are my pants?

Perfectriots, not sure it will help, however,  I offer the following from Salvador Dali who once said,

“Have no fear of perfection – you’ll never reach it.”

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