IF YOU DON’T THINK FUNDAMENTALISTS ARE A THREAT TO DEMOCRACY,
READ THIS:

"Raising your children under Americanism or any other principles other than true Christianity is child abuse."

"You do not have the right to be wrong, regardless of what any man-made or demonic charter says."

"Democracy originated in the mind of a rational being who has the deepest hatred for God."

"Do you realize that the only thing that gives democracy existence is sin? The absence of democracy is perfect obedience to god."

"The best way to insure the earth is never over populated is for sensible and righteous governments to clear all forms of atheism and heresy." —Robert T. Lee (Society for the Practical Establishment of the Ten Commandments)

I WAS JUST THINKING . . .

In the local mall recently I saw that certain economic forces have now figured out how to gouge even more money out of tweedle-brained housewives—it’s photos with the Easter Bunny. Pictures with Santa Claus did not generate enough money I guess. Now they want to get Easter money too. I also note that both of these holidays are Christian in origin so why not go straight to the source? How about photos with Christ on the Cross? You could hang a male model up their with fake blood pouring from his wounds, head slanted to the side, eyes upraised as if to ask “Father, why hast thou turned me over to these addle-pated females?” You could take your child and pose him or her, kneeling with hands in prayerful clasp, eyes closed, or palms upturned, as if imploring the mythological figure. After all, both the Easter bunny and Santa Claus have as much right to being taken for real as the Jesus dude—so why not photos with Christ on the Cross?

WHAT’S THAT EXPRESSION, ER, SMIRK (?) MEAN?

He can barely keep a straight face.

GOD DON’T MAKE NO JUNK?

I’ve found this little espresso joint in Vancouver Washington called “Café Divine”. It’s attached to a Christian bookstore, and, yes, the espresso joint is full of Bible-reading Christians. I think I’m going to have to find a different place to drink my espressos and do my algebra problems. Here’s why.

Yesterday, I heard one of the Bible people tell another Bible person that “God don’t make no junk.” Another time, I heard one claim that “God don’t make no mistakes.” Lot’s of false and crazy info floating around the place. I don’t want to be corrupted by so much wrong information.

I’ve searched and I’ve searched, and I can’t find anywhere in the Bible the claim that “God don’t make no junk”. And I’m almost certain that God has made a mistake or two. I think he regretted that he wiped out most of the human race and promised never to do it again. Now, I’ve never regretted doing something right. In fact, I usually rejoice when I do do something correctly.

Not only can’t I find anywhere in that bad old book that God don’t make no junk, I also find lots of information that these folks never seem to hear. For instance he wants them to stone to death all adulterers. He doesn’t want them eating shellfish. He tells them to “beat” their children and that their eyes must look into there own bellies. Over and over he tells them to be stupid and to honor ignorance. (Most Christians do honor those last two admonitions.) He tells them not to charge interest rates. He tells women not to wear trousers and men skirts unless they be male Scottish Christians. Then it’s okay to wear skirts. All young women who have premarital sex are to be stoned to death also. As Bob Dylan notes in his interpretation of the good book, “Every body must get stoned.”

God tells Christians to eat the pygarg too, if they can find one. He also tells them not to eat pork which only the Jewish Christians adhere to. He also tells them not to make “burnt offerings” to him, so why do Christians support capital punishment? Of course, many times in Deuteronomy God mentions that only Israel has to obey these many rules for living so why do American Christians obey any of them? Can’t they read? Not only these things do I mention, but God tells Christians in Deuteronomy 7 and beyond to utterly smite and destroy their enemies, to push them out of their lands and to do all manner of foul things to people who don’t believe as Christians do. . . . Wait! Now, there, Christians have been very obedient. You’d almost think that they’re just like the Moslems who they claim are out to destroy everyone who isn’t a Moslem.

Anyhow—you get my drift. Enough said. The three pictures included in the text are of our new digs in Vancouver. Pretty pretty if you ask me.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.

SPRING IN THE WET ZONE

Okay—now I'm getting a little back to normal. At least, this entry is on a Friday, a usual day for one of my blog entries. Today, at least, I also feel some serenity, the first serenity since arriving here. I just haven't felt normal at all. Cross fingers for continued normalcy. See? It's pretty here—in a wet sort of way. The photos are from Frenchman's Bend or Point, or something. Can't find it on my Vancouver map, but it was in the area of the Lake Vancouver park complex.

AIN’T IT THE BEE’S KNEES?
AS THEY’D SAY DURING THE ROARING TWENTIES

Seems honey bees are disappearing at an alarming rate in 24 of the contiguous United States. Maybe they just can’t crawl back to their combs after an all night long session with their honeys. I sometimes seriously doubt if the species we call homo sapiens will itself survive at the rate we’re destroying the planet and other species.

[SNIP]
A Cornell University study has estimated that honeybees annually pollinate more than $14 billion worth of seeds and crops in the United States, mostly fruits, vegetables and nuts. “Every third bite we consume in our diet is dependent on a honeybee to pollinate that food,” said Zac Browning, vice president of the American Beekeeping Federation.

The bee losses are ranging from 30 to 60 percent on the West Coast, with some beekeepers on the East Coast and in Texas reporting losses of more than 70 percent; beekeepers consider a loss of up to 20 percent in the offseason to be normal.
[PASTE]

I'M DYIN' OVER HERE! HULP. I MEAN, HELP!!!!

This move is so stressful for an old man like myself, let me tell you. We had to put Chi Chi, our chihuahua down. Fifteen years old, he was, and he was totally disoriented by the move, besides being mostly blind and very deaf. In Spokane he knew his way around his backyard life. The turf was familiar. He knew all the smells of his life very well. Here, he was crapping all over the floor. This is a tough thing to do, to stand in a cramped room with a tranqulized small dog while they stick a needle in his leg and then he's gone—poof—with open black eyes gone lifeless. I told Mertie I was going to pull down my pants and crap all over the floor too. Poor wife—she's got a new job to orient to, plus losing her dog (which was her dog, not mine very much) plus a 69 year old house-husband falling apart in her bed. I mean to tell you that this move is harder than I remember any move of my younger life being. I don't much feel like keeping up this blog either so my entries may be sporadic temporarily, though, I must admit that doing this one familiar thing in a wide world of new things does help a bit. I can feel it helping as I make the effort to type. I think of all my friends on the other coast of Washington reading it and hearing my cries for help. Help! But what can anyone do to help an old man adjust to a signifcant change in his later years? One day at a time I hope it'll get easier. Today was significantly tougher even though I quit unpacking the final boxes and sorting and arranging and went out into the world to look around. All I saw were a lot of expensive houses beyond our affording. The world seems divided between rich and poor and nothing in between. I can't imagine affording a house over here. Anyhow, here' a couple'a pitchures.

This is a party that my friend Ruth threw on the night before I left.
She's the crouching tiger.
It was also her birthday, so it was a birthbondayvoyage party.
The grinning girl and the girl with back to camera are Ruth's daughters.
The young man is the redhead's boyfriend.
They met in Montana where they both attend college.

Mt. Hood in the distance as I drove to Vancouver
on the Washington side of the Columbia.

The Columbia River from one of the parks along the river West of Vancouver.
That's an ocean going tanker, believe it or not,
in a not very wide nor seemingly very deep part of the river
just outside of the Port of Vancouver.

I may have already done this in the past. If so, indulge me. . . .

SOME—BUT NOT NEARLY ALL OF THE PLACES WHERE
“I HAVE MEASURED OUT MY LIFE WITH COFFEE SPOONS”
IN SPOKANE.

At one time, this place was an independent joint. It was called Fitzbillies.
Then Rocket Bakery bought them out. After Rocket bought them out,
I began to refer to the place as Rockabilly's.

This little joint is right across from the Community Building
which houses many of the socially conscious entities in Spokane like:

+ Blue Prints for Learning
+ Center for Justice
+ Charley Gurche
+ Circle of Security
+ Community Building
Meditation Room
+ Community Building
Children's Center
+ Conservation Northwest
+ Friends of the Farmers Market
+ Futurewise
+ Global Folk Art
+ Inland Northwest Land Trust
+ KYRS - Thin Air Community Radio
+ Neighborhood Alliance
+ New Priorities Foundation
+ Northwest Conflict
Management Center
+ Northwest Fair Housing Alliance
+ Peace and Justice Action League
+ PEACH
+ Save Our Wild Salmon
+ Senator Lisa Brown
+ Sierra Club
+ Spokane Tilth
+ Unemployment Law Project

Just walking into the building makes one feel soooo good.
The vibes knock you over with feathers.

This little Starbuck's on Hamilton is distinguished by its close proximity to the
Gonzaga U. campus.
That's the home of the Zags who deserve much praise for winning the
West Coast Conference Championship
despite hardship and nasty Cheney cops who probably and
hypocritically use the drug alcohol pretty freely. Shame on them!

The downtown Starbuck's on the South side of the street where
on hot summer days, a retired dude such as myself
could sit in comfort in the shade of not only umbrellas but
in the even cooler shade of tall buildings whilst I sipped me latte and
watched the passing parade of lives before my very eyes.

Another independent where a man at leisure like myself can sit
amongst the business folk who seem to like this joint.
Good stuffed chairs and peaceful atmosphere and
right around the corner—the bus plaza.

On the outreaches of Spokane in the little Garland mini-business district
sits this little Rocket.
I went there many a morning in my early coffee drinking days,
mainly to chat with a very intelligent and lively barrista
who was majoring in psychology.

Ooooops! Someone lost a finger in the coffee!

By the way—I'm writing this and working on my blog at 3:30 am
because I can't sleep with our move looming up on me in just a few days.
Then, it'll be bye bye to Spokane and hello Vancouver (WA that is, not BC), but
I've already spied out a nifty little espresso joint there
on Minnehaha Street called Cafe Divine, I think.
Now I'm going to try to lay me down to sleep
I think.

Then, or Zen, of course, there's all of Portland espressosity to explore!
Just across a bridge not too far, I hope.

COFFEE, CAFE, JAVA, JO, MOCHA JAVA JOE, BREW, KAVA

Excuse me—I will be sooooo busy for the next week or so while Mertie and I move that I may make no more entries for awhile—or few. Part of the time, of course, this computer will be in a moving van. The blog will languish. I'm excited to be moving. I can't believe I'm moving again. I thought I would never move again. What!? I'm moving again? O, goodness! Paint this, dust that, move that, pack this, patch that, give that away, keep this, sell those, call them, call her too, no—call them, not them, them—this, that and the other.

Anyhow—the Starbuck's pictured below was the site of my first ever espresso drink. It's in a strip mall. We were living in an apartment on Bismark Avenue in northwest Spokane when I ventured in and asked the barrista to give me some sort of not too bitter espresso drink. I can't recall what it was, but it was not a mocha nor a latte. It was dark and rich, but I had to put some artificial sugar in because I am just not sweet enough as it is.

What do you think of them Gonzaga Bulldogs, pulling off the West Coast Conference championship! Without that big fellow at center? But, anyway, I think they got a bumb rap. All them alcoholics and boozers in DC don't make their favorite drug illegal, so I got nothing but contempt for their anti-drug laws. I do believe I've said that before on this very blog! O—well. Ticks me off. Fills me with contempt for the law, and that's not good.


See ya in the not too distant future!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

WHERE HAVE I BEEN ON MONDAY?


I've been on our second whirlwind drive to Vancouver where we rented an apartment. Soon my wife and I will be inhabitants of Vancouver, Washington. I'm tired. I'm trying to figure out how to move a household full of furniture into a smaller two bedroom apartment (live simply, simpleton, they say), get a house ready to be sold, and the thousand and one details that go into both, all without cracking up, driving my car too fast into a curve along the mighty Columbia River, and etcetera. So this is all for now except for a couple of pictures from along the way.

The first is titled, "What you see when you enter Oregon from the Tri-Cities."




The second I'll call, "Soldier Trees."


What to me is terribly funny is that when we bought this house my wife and I are now leaving, I was tremulous. At age 64, or whatever, I had the premonition that the house we were buying was going to be the end of my traveling days, my last house. It would be the house I would die in. Mortality closed in with a tight fist. Now, look at us, moving to coastal weather after scabland country—if one can call living in the city of Spokane living in the actual scabland. Well, at least I could drive into the scabland pretty fast. And though we're not actually on the coast we're in that direction to be.

JUST A FEW MORE AND PROFITS REALLY DROP

According to a recent BBC report (Feb. 21, 2007), “Australia has announced plans to ban incandescent light bulbs and replace them with more energy efficient fluorescent bulbs.”

Just like California—if a responsible China were to do what Australia has done, real pressure for change will build. Sorry GE, you’ll just to have do with jet engines for your profit margin.

GREAT MINDS THINK ALIKE
ONLY NOT AS OFTEN AS I’D LIKE TO HOPE

I was perusing some tomes while selling books down at the library and came across the following: “Not only will men of science have to grapple with the sciences that deal with man, but—and this is a far more difficult matter—they will have to persuade the world to listen to what they have discovered. If they cannot succeed in this difficult enterprise, man will destroy himself by his halfway cleverness.” —Bertrand Russell (quoted in The Making of Kubrick’s 2001)

Bingo! Well, what can I say? I’ve mentioned more than once in this blog that, if you ask me, the chief difficulty facing humankind is that the rational ones among us are faced with a growing hysteria amongst the more numerous religious who can’t accept global warming, are incapable of understanding the facts of natural selection and darn sure will rebel against evolutionary psychology (a science that deals with “man”—Russell’s word not mine—which has the potential to undermine their belief in free will or, at least, limit it severely. Dorrane and I sometimes debate this idea of free will at our Inland Northwest Freethought Society meetings. My thought is that we’re robots whereas she tries to give us humans a little more wiggle room.

TEXAS FIGHTS TO HOLD ONTO IT’S TITLE AS
“MURDER CAPITAL OF THE WORLD”


The photo accompanying this entry is one showing Texas as it is today in the hearts of its citizens.

Not only does Texas have the highest murder rates in the world and the highest rate of executions, another form of murder (murdering the murderer, thus setting an example to the potential muderer that murder is the way to deal with someone you don’t like), now they are debating more laws to increase their rate of murder. They’re going to legalize paranoid murder by allowing anyone to shoot anyone that they imagine might harm them. Not only will they be allowed to indulge in paranoid behavior in defense of their own homes, but they’ll be allowed to indulge in their paranoid fantasies on any Texas street: “That guy looked crosseyed at me. I knew he meant me serious harm so I shot him.”

That’s okay, though. Any law-abiding, peaceful American knows better than to live in Texas, let alone drive through there. I’m serious—being a peaceful citizen, I know I’ll steer clear of that state. I certainly wouldn’t encourage any conventions to go down there. What if one of the loco locals decides he doesn’t like you or your convention and shoots you down? What’s your defense when he says you meant him harm? Who interprets that? Who reads who’s mind? Which mind do you believe? Of course, it’ll boil down to who’s your friend and who’s not, who’s the Texan and who’s not. Wouldn’t want to be a non-Texan when they get right down to deciding those cases—if you’re still alive, if you survive the paranoid sonofabitch who shot you down. Texas is probably the most paranoid state in the Union.

DID I
ALREADY TELL YOU THIS?

I’ve come to really love clouds, specially the ones that backdrop wheat fields and tall buildings. They frame pictures perfectly. I love clouds so much that I’ve come up with a saying to express my appreciation: “A day without clouds is like a day without sunshine.” Stop me if you heard it already. Whooops—too late!
.
.
.
.