Odds and Sods - Watch out for those rats edition

Although I realize the rest of the country is covered up in wetness of one kind or another, the weather here has been great, and I've been spending virtually all of my free time outside. Apologies for ongoing blogular negligence.

Below--graffiti on my beloved Swamp Rabbit Trail. (as always, you can click to enlarge all photos)



I also realize its been awhile since I did an Odds and Sods post, so here we go.

[] Starting off with an in-depth "first principles" (Right vs Left) political discussion I am having on another blog, which you all may find interesting. We're SO polite!

[] More apologies: I keep forgetting to post a follow-up to The History Project. I promise to rectify this sorry state of affairs before the end of the month! In the meantime, check out my first History Project post. (What kinds of 'progressive history' would people like to see, in particular?)

[] Tuesday evening, I attended an information session up at Furman University, featuring David Lochbaum, director of the Union of Concerned Scientists’ Nuclear Safety Project. Mr Lochbaum discussed the uncomfortable, but inescapable, facts that the Oconee nuke is more at risk from earthquake and fire damage than the Fukushima nuclear reactor in Japan was.



Lochbaum believes that nukes would be generally safe if, you know, greedy corporations did not try to cut corners (and employees) and the regulating agencies actually did some regulating. The Nuclear Regulatory Commission (NRC) is funded by the nuclear industry, which means they are financially beholden to the industry they are supposed to be regulating. Good work if you can get it!



And today, we learn from the New York Times that a RAT was partially responsible for the nuclear accident at Fukushima, following the earthquake.

I guess nukes are safe if you can make sure no stray rats get in!

[] ANNOUNCEMENT of PUBLIC HEARING: April 4, 2013 (Speak up for the Broad River!)

The proposed WS LEE Nuclear Power Plant in Gaffney, SC needs an NPDES wastewater discharge permit to dump chemicals and heated water into the Broad River at 99 Island Reservoir. Folks concerned about the health and social impacts of this plant will attend the hearing to make public comments and request denial of this permit to protect downstream communities. JOIN US!

Restoration Church
1905 N. Limestone Street
Gaffney, SC 29340

6pm: A presentation by Dept of Health & Environmental Control (DHEC) with questions & answers
7pm: public speaking begins
View the draft permit (PDF)
General information on Clean Water Act permits from the Blue Ridge Environmental Defense League.

**Stay tuned for information on ride sharing from North Carolina communities.**

[] I fussed about Tumblr on New Years' Eve, and got my ass fried in short order by some youngsters who hate grandma (and what did I expect?)... so I haven't said much else or picked a fight with the Tumblrites. But I have since done some snooping, and I ain't the only one who thinks the place is a swamp.

I discovered the highly-amusing Tumblr blog "The Best of Social Justice"--and its a stone gas, as the late Don Cornelius would have said. (Note: Don't forget to read the FAQs, which contains a handy-dandy, useful glossary of social justice blogging-lingo. I've been waiting SO LONG for this! Thank you, whoever you are!)

I guess I should be embarrassed that these Tumblrites are (supposedly) social justice folks, but instead, I am simply relieved someone is subjecting their dopey excesses to ridicule. At this point, they are doing much more harm than good; thus I am far more embarrassed by the spectacle of their wallowing-in-oppression ('oppression') and their constant meddling/policing the language of the Left (which inhibits involvement by newbies and/or uneducated people who don't know the intricate insider-lingo), than I am embarrassed by exposing them in the first place. If anything, I think more such blogs are in order. They are laughable, so let's laugh at them.

Also, let me make it clear, I think lots of them are total fakes. Others are gifted exaggerators, obviously addicted to melodrama.

Which brings me to---

[] Back in July (yes, I only came across it relatively recently, she admitted), Shae McDonovan finally wrote what we have all been thinking: Pretending You’re Oppressed: The New Internet Fad. This is a must-read for progressives who hang out on social justice blogs, tumblrs, LJs, forums and other opinion-oriented websites:

Personally, I think they all suffer from plain old “being boring” oppression. You know, the kind where you’re dull and you watch too much TV and you feel a desperate need to be cool, different, part of a group. One could almost say that “interesting” people are oppressive, flaunting their interestingness in your face, telling stories of suffering and pain, while you know you live in a comfortable 2-bedroom apartment your mom and dad paid for, drive in a car that you’ve never had to personally get fixed, and the most harassment you ever received in your life was being told you were weird that one time you wore neon orange lipstick and spandex to your junior prom in high school.

But besides being all very ridiculous, it does have a clear-cut, damaging effect to legitimate oppression, those where people are actually dying, becoming homeless, being forced into prostitution, and living in dire poverty, unable to get a hand up. When you take the words of those who truly suffer, not because they feel emotions while sitting in their middle-class home behind their thousand dollar computer, but because they spent 15 years in jail on a trumped up charge they didn’t even commit, and are now unable to get a job due to stigmatization that doesn’t apply across the board, those people now receive less of the sympathy and help they need to survive. For every person that complains that a disagreement on the internet about their catbunnyanimusparklegirl status triggers them (despite them continuing the argument until the wee hours of the morning), someone who is so triggered they can barely breathe, curled up, reliving trauma, is invalidated, ignored, and not provided what they need.

[] I talked about our new Pope Francis on the radio, and therefore did not blog about him. The whole show is HERE, in which I also talk about the history of the Jesuits at some length.

Another good show, concerns Governor Nikki Haley refusing federal Medicaid money, thereby forfeiting $4.1 billion (in our taxes!) to other states. I DID blog about that one, and yeah, I am still pissed off about it.

~*~

Tomorrow our show will feature 2012 Green Party presidential candidate Jill Stein, so we hope you will tune in. Local phone is 864-751-1033, so feel free to call and comment.

Joe Bageant 1946-2011

I'm so behind in my reading, I didn't know Joe Bageant, patron saint of rednecks, had passed. (on March 26)

I can't improve on what others have already written about the amazing author of Deer Hunting with Jesus and Rainbow Pie: A Redneck Memoir, so I will quote from them.

From Michael Loughnane:

"Poet", "prophet", "hillbilly revolutionary", "progressive redneck with a conscience" — these are some of the descriptive terms that have been conferred on Joe Bageant who died on March 26. Steve Austin of the Australian Broadcasting Company called him "The Woody Guthrie of the typewriter" for he championed the cause of the "redneck", a social group he saw as being one of the most marginalized and disenfranchised in America.

From Gary Coseri:

Deer Hunting is an excellent book. Rainbow Pie is even better. Rainbow Pie is about now; Deer Hunting laid the groundwork, sowed seeds of memory for this West Virginia-born sui generis intellectual. Rainbow Pie brings those seeds to fruition amidst our present devastation — the “financialization” of the “transactional economy.” Translation: outsourced jobs; debt and desperation in the homeland.

Before he died last month at age 64, Bageant’s witnessing was astute and acute; he had been there.

And now, I quote directly and at length from Joe's own introduction to Rainbow Pie, A Redneck Memoir:

The United States has always maintained a white underclass — citizens whose role in the greater scheme of things has been to cushion national economic shocks through the disposability of their labor, with occasional time off to serve as bullet magnets in defense of the Empire. Until the post-World War II era, the existence of such an underclass was widely acknowledged. During the Civil War, for instance, many northern abolitionists also called for the liberation of “four million miserable white southerners held in bondage by the wealthy planter class”. Planter elites, who often held several large plantations which, together, constituted much or most of a county’s economy, saw to it that poor whites got no schooling, money, or political power. Poll taxes and literacy requirements kept white subsistence farmers and poor laborers from entering voting booths. Often accounting for up to 70 percent of many deep-Southern counties, they could not vote, and thus could never challenge the status quo.

Today, almost nobody in the social sciences seems willing to touch the subject of America’s large white underclass; or, being firmly placed in the true middle class themselves, can even agree that such a thing exists. Apparently, you can’t smell the rabble from the putting green.

Public discussion of this class remains off limits, deemed hyperbole and the stuff of dangerous radical leftists. And besides, as everyone agrees, white people cannot be an underclass. We’re the majority, dammit. You must be at least one shade darker than a paper bag to officially qualify as a member of any underclass. The middle and upper classes generally agree, openly or tacitly, that white Americans have always had an advantage (which has certainly been the middle- and upper-class experience). Thus, in politically correct circles, either liberal or conservative, the term “white underclass” is an oxymoron. Sure, there are working-poor whites, but not that many, and definitely not enough to be called a white underclass, much less an American peasantry.

Economic, political, and social culture in America is staggering under the sheer weight of its white underclass, which now numbers some sixty million. Generally unable to read at a functional level, they are easily manipulated by corporate-political interests to vote against advances in health and education, and even more easily mustered in support of any proposed military conflict, aggressive or otherwise. One-third of their children are born out of wedlock, and are unemployable by any contemporary industrialized-world standard. Even if we were to bring back their jobs from China and elsewhere — a damned unlikely scenario — they would be competing at a wage scale that would not meet even their basic needs. Low skilled, and with little understanding of the world beyond either what is presented to them by kitschy and simplistic television, movie, and other media entertainments, or their experience as armed grunts in foreign combat, the future of the white underclass not only looks grim, but permanent.

Meanwhile, the underclass, “America’s flexible labor force” (one must be pretty flexible to get screwed in some of the positions we are asked to), or whatever you choose to call the unwashed throngs mucking around down here at the bottom of the national labor tier, are nevertheless politically potent, if sufficiently taunted and fed enough bullshit. Just look at the way we showed up in force during the 2000 elections, hyped up on inchoate anger and ready to be deployed as liberal-ripping pit bulls by America’s ultra-conservative political machinery. Snug middle-class liberals were stunned. Could that many people actually be supporting Anne Coulter’s call for the jailing of liberals, or Rush Limbaugh’s demand for the massive, forced psychiatric detention of Democrats? Or, more recently, could they honestly believe President Obama’s proposed public healthcare plan would employ “death panels” to decide who lives and who dies? Conservatives cackled with glee, and dubbed them the only real Americans.

But back in 2000, before the American economic implosion, middle-class people of both stripes could still have confidence in their 401(k)s and retirement stock portfolios, with no small thanks to the cheap labor costs provided by the rabble out there. And they could take comfort in the knowledge that millions of other middle-class folks just like themselves were keeping the gears of American finance well oiled and humming. Our economy had become fat through financialization. Who needed manufacturing? We were now a post-industrial nation of investors, a “transactional economy”. Dirty work was for ... well ... Asians. In this much-ballyhooed “sweat-free economy”, the white underclass swelled with every injection mould and drill press shipped across the Pacific.

Ten years later, with the US economy as skinny as the running gears of a praying mantis, the middle class — what’s left of it now — is having doubts about its traditional class security. Every day it gets a bit harder not to notice some fifty or sixty million people scratching around for any kind of a job, or working more hours than ever in a sweating, white-knuckled effort to hang onto the jobs they do have. With credit cards melting down and middle-class jobs evaporating, there is the distinct possibility of them slipping into the classes below them. And who are they anyway — those people wiping out the ramen noodle shelf at the supermarket, and looking rather surly as they are moved out of their repossessed houses?

True, with the right selection of lefty internet bookmarks, you can find discussions of the white underclass, and occasionally even a brief article in the New York Times about some scholarly book that asks, “Does a white underclass exist in America?” But most of the shrinking middle class pulls its blinds shut, hoping that if they don’t see bad fortune, perhaps bad fortune can’t see them and will not find their doors. Behind those doors, however, some privately wonder how the ranks of desperate and near-desperate American whites ever became so numerous. Where did all those crass people with their bad grammar and worse luck suddenly come from?

Seldom are such developments sudden, of course. It’s only the realization of them that happens overnight. The foundation of today’s white underclass was laid down in the years following World War II. I was there, I grew up during its construction, and spent half my life trapped in it.

When World War II began, 44 percent of Americans were rural, and over half of them farmed for a living. By 1970, only 5 percent were on farms. Altogether, more than twenty-two million migrated to urban areas during the postwar period. If that migration were to happen in reverse today, it would be the equivalent of the present populations of New York City, Chicago, Miami, Philadelphia, Boston, and Saint Louis moving out into the countryside at a time when the US population was half of its present size.

In the great swim upstream toward what was being heralded as a new American prosperity, most of these twenty-two million never made it to the first fish ladder. Stuck socially, economically, and educationally at or near the bottom of the dam, they raised children and grandchildren who added another forty million to the swarm.

These uneducated rural whites became the foundation of our permanent white underclass. Their children and grandchildren have added to the numbers of this underclass, probably in the neighborhood of 50 or 60 million people now. They outnumber all other poor and working-poor groups — black, Hispanics, immigrants.

Even as the white underclass was accumulating, it was being hidden, buried under a narrative proclaiming otherwise. The popular imagination was swamped with images that remain today as the national memory of that era. Nearly all of these images were products of advertising. In the standard depiction, our warriors returned to the land kept free by their valor, exhilarated by victory, and ready to raise families. They purchased little white cottages and Buick Roadmaster sedans, and then drove off into the unlimited horizons of the “land of happy motoring”. A government brochure of the time assured everyone that “An onrushing new age of opportunity, prosperity, convenience and comfort has arrived for all Americans.” I quoted this to an old World War II veteran named Ernie over an egg sandwich at the Twilight Zone Grill near my home in town. Ernie answered, “I wish somebody had told me; I would have waved at the prosperity as it went by.”

According to this officially sanctioned story of the great postwar migration, these people abandoned farm life in such droves because the money, excitement, and allure of America’s cities and large towns was just too great to resist. Why would anyone stay down on the farm when he or she could be “wearing ten-dollar shoes and eating rainbow pie”? One catches a whiff of urban-biased perception here; but then, the official version of all life and culture in America is written by city people. Our dominant history, analysis, and images of America are generated in the urban centers. Social-research institutions, major universities, and the media — such as ABC, HBO, PBS, and the Harvard University sociology department — are not located in Keokuk, Iowa; Fisher, Illinois; Winchester, Virginia; or Lubbock, Texas.

I grew up hard by the Blue Ridge Mountains of Virginia and West Virginia, and am a product of that out-migration; and, as I said, grew up watching it happen around me. I’m here to tell you, dear hearts, that while all those university professors may have their sociological data and industrial statistics verified and well indexed, they’re way off-base; they’ve entirely overshot the on-the-ground experience. In fact, they don’t even deal with it. You won’t be surprised to hear that the media representation of the postwar era — and, let’s face it, more people watch The History Channel than read social history texts — it is as full of crap as an overfed Christmas goose.

My contemporaries of that rural out-migration, now in their late fifties and mid sixties, are still marked by the journey. Their children and grandchildren have inherited the same pathway. The class competition along that road is more brutal than ever. But the sell job goes on that we are a classless society with roughly equal opportunity for all. Given the terrible polarization of wealth and power in this country (the top 1 percent hold more wealth than the bottom 45 percent combined, and their take is still rising), we can no longer even claim equal opportunity for a majority. Opportunity for the majority to do what? Pluck chickens, and telemarket to the ever-dwindling middle class?

Ohhh my. When he pauses to say "dear hearts"--it takes my breath away. My mother's family, also from West Virginia, used that term in conversation in just that fashion. Thus, it's like a member of my family passing.

Who will say these things now? Who will write about us? (sobs) We have lost one of our precious scribes.

Goodbye Joe, and rest in peace.

War is over, if you want it

Best thing I've heard today: Gloria Allred canceled her press conference with her stunningly-attractive client, Rachel Uchitel, just as Uchitel was poised to Tell All about her "relationship" with Tiger Woods.

Scandalmongers everywhere sobbed; Gloria never lets us down. This is a first!

After the cancellation, Allred's daughter, Lisa Bloom (yes, intrepid Court-TV junkies and scandalmongers love Lisa almost as much as we love her mom), announced on several news networks that mom would never cancel a press conference, except for one reason: Mr Green has arrived.

Mr Green! Love it.

And I'd love to know what kind of Merry Christmas the Uchitel family will have this year; something tells me the presents under the tree will be first rate indeed.

~*~

More scandals! DEAD AIR can barely keep up. As Renee reported, actress Meredith Baxter has come out as gay.

I first became very interested in Baxter when she dated... David Cassidy! Yes, I kept careful track of all the Cassidy-women: Meredith, Susan Dey, Judy Strangis, Robin Millan, and his first wife, the totally fabulous Kay Lenz. Embarrassing but true.

Camille Paglia once wrote the following about Baxter, which I found rather puzzling at the time... but now, suddenly makes perfect sense:

Baxter's 1992 performance as a real-life San Diego murderess in the two parts of "The Betty Broderick Story," "A Woman Scorned" and "Her Final Fury," remains one of the most impressive pieces of work by an American actress in the last 20 years. Though I've watched rebroadcasts of that tense docudrama times without number, I still thrill with admiration at Baxter's tough energy, pinpoint vocal work and insight into both sexual relations and American character. "The Betty Broderick Story" should be required viewing at every acting school.

Um, say what?

Of course (it should go without saying!), I enjoyed the Betty Broderick mini-series as much as the next scandalmonger... but hey, Meredith Baxter isn't Meryl Streep, okay? I wondered if Paglia (with whom I share my special great love for Elizabeth) had gone off the deep-end, or was possibly in love with Baxter.

Ha! Was I right or what?

Now that we know, I am wondering if they have actually dated or possibly got real friendly on one of those hot lesbian cruises.

It's interesting that Paglia lets her emotions interfere with her critical sensibilities, although she loves to accuse feminists like Naomi Wolf of doing the same thing. Paglia is always proudly blathering that she has "a male brain"; I wonder if effusively gushing over her favorite lady-friends is what she means by that?

(giggle)

~*~

Raleigh Demonstrators against Cliffside, from October 29th demonstration. Photo courtesy of the Canary Coalition.


On a political note, Duke Energy is still attempting to destroy the Blue Ridge Mountains with a coal-burning power-plant, smack-dab in the middle of one of the most beautiful areas in the world. I have covered this previously, and the brawl continues, with protesters busted this week also.

Jeanne Brooks writes, accurately:

Although coal-burning power plants are the largest source of carbon emissions in the U.S., that’s not the only concern. In August, U.S. Geological Survey research tested fish in about 300 streams across the nation and found every fish contaminated with mercury.

The smoke-stack emissions of power plants are a major source of the mercury, the EPA said, along with trash burning and cement plants.

Tiny particulates, associated with heart attacks and asthma, among other medical problems, are another power plant emission.

Removing mountain tops by detonation in central Appalachian states like West Virginia and Kentucky to mine coal is an additional, and ugly, factor. The debris has ruined and buried miles of streams.

STOP CLIFFSIDE!

~*~

Pausing for unpaid commercial for the wonderful MOMMIE DOTS line by Augisa & Co. All of their vegan, cruelty-free skin-products are terrific, but this one deserves a special shout-out.

I just sent the awesome Mommie 2 Be Bellie Butta to my daughter, as her pregnant self expands. Bellie Butta is made of aloe, chamomile, lavender and organic coconut oil; highly recommended for you future-mamas out there.

~*~

Locally, the Sara Lee factory is closing and laying off 200 workers. Our warmest positive thoughts, deadhead vibes and heartfelt novenas are with all the folks losing jobs at Christmastime, which just makes me wanna cry:

GREENVILLE, S.C. -- Officials with Sara Lee Corp. said 200 workers in South Carolina will lose their jobs when the company closes its bread factory in Greenville.

Sara Lee officials told the Herald-Journal of Spartanburg that they have to close the bakery in January because they lost a major customer.

Spokesman Mike Cummins said the plant makes frozen dough and bagels for the food service industry. Cummins said a few workers may be offered jobs at other plants, but the rest will get severance packages and help finding another job.

Sara Lee began operating the Greenville plant in 1984 after acquiring it from King's Hawaiian Bakery.

We are with you, folks, and wish you all the best.

~*~

And speaking of Christmas, as always, I am currently inundated with endless holiday music at my workplace. (My definitive Christmas music post is here!) However, I have noticed that John and Yoko's famous "Happy Christmas/War is Over" is pointedly NOT one of the songs being played over and over.

Hmm.

Maybe because the war isn't over?

(If you want it.)

~*~

Speaking of Christmas and capitalism, several different versions of the official DEAD AIR Christmas season kick-off tune have been yanked off YouTube already. Yes, boys and girls, The Grinch is alive and active and wants to CHEAT US OF OUR JAMS!

But I found one anyway, she snorted derisively. Listen now, before they yank this one too!

Come to think of it, they never play this one in public places either. ;)

Father Christmas - The Kinks

[via FoxyTunes / The Kinks]

Why I love Wordless Wednesday (and more Jones Gap photos)

I am congenitally incapable of NOT commenting on adorable animal and child photos. And every other photo in the world, it would seem. I used to surf blogs and just comment at random... in the process, I learned that some folks don't really want stranger-comments on their blogs. To some (not me, certainly) it is like barging into their house. And so, I was thrilled to learn of Wordless Wednesday through Daisy the Curly Cat. I would compare it to a cozy room everyone (all over the world!) can enter, displaying photos to like-minded souls we know will be interested and appreciative. I imagine sharing a nice cup of coffee, sitting at a friendly kitchen table, as the terrific photos of adorable children, dogs, cats, vacations, art, nature, everyday life, are arranged on the table-top... and we inspect them; sharing, talking, wishing each other well.

So it's wordless, but not really. A picture is worth a thousand words, and the photos tell us what people truly treasure, what they choose to share with us. I am happy to enter the room, waving hello, showing my pretty pics.

Speaking of which, here are a few more photos from my All Saints Day visit to Jones Gap State Park. They are among the best photos I have ever taken, so I'm very proud! (More photos at my Flickr page, updated yesterday.) Jones Gap is in the Blue Ridge Mountains, on the border of North and South Carolina.

If you are here for Wordless Wednesday, welcome!

~*~

Dead Air Church - Jones Gap

For All Saints Day, I went into the woods to pray this year.

Below, one of my favorite places in the universe, Jones Gap State Park here in upstate South Carolina. This park is right on the border of North and South Carolina. These photos are from the Rim of The Gap trail, which runs parallel to the Middle Saluda River.

The further back you go, the quieter, the more beautiful. All you can hear is the river and your footsteps in the leaves.

And a very happy All Souls Day to you all.

~*~

BELE CHERE!!!!!!!

I used up my Flickr account for the month, bah. Thus, I labor onward with Picasa.

I do not enjoy how Picasa doesn't let you copy and paste the photographic alignment. Or rather, there is probably a way to do this, but my puttering and muttering can not unlock the key to the magic GRAPHIC DESIGN GENIE that will impart this arcane knowledge to me. Harumph! And so, apologies for the horizontal (and decidedly uncool) layout below.

More photos available on my Flickr page.

~*~

I love Bele Chere with a passion!!!! This is Asheville, North Carolina's 30-year-old street fair, which (yes, I realize!) has been corporatized, blah blah blah, unlike Comfest, the similar street festival I grew up with in Columbus, Ohio. There are people passing out dog food samples and Sensodyne and trying to sell you cell phones. I try to ignore the annoying capitalism, hawking wares everywhere. The wonderful part of Bele Chere is seeing the People Like Us come out of the woodwork, the offices, the mountains, the cities, wherever we are. The invasion of flower children and hippies is something to behold. I want to kiss everyone I see.

And speaking personally, I love seeing a profusion of older white women with LONG HAIR, a rare and exotic species to which I belong. (Cultural note: Older Latino and Asian women are obviously allowed long hair, but I first started getting harassed to cut my hair and "do something with it" when I was about 20 years old. PS: I have done something with it, and this is it!) It is GREAT to see so many transgressive, menopausal women who have similarly dug in their heels. I LOVE YOU, DEAREST LONG HAIRED LADIES!!!!!!! And their equivalent, the old guys with ZZ Top beards and braids in the back. YOU ARE BEAUTIFUL!!!!

Asheville, like Austin, is fabulous, liberal and tolerant. They recycle with a vengeance, and I am NOT the only vegetarian on the block. The bad news? Rich people want to live there, thus intrinsically changing the basic nature of the place. Authentic hippies can't afford it anymore and have moved over to West Asheville. There is a brawl taking place over the center of town, and like Greenville, the infestation of MILLIONAIRE CONDOS is imminent (see below*). Let's hope they don't turn the place into a hippie-theme park, but that is the fear many locals have.

Meanwhile, I loved it, as I always do. I partied and danced in the streets with everyone else.



First, we drive up the Blue Ridge Mountains to get to Asheville. It's beautiful and calming, like a pilgrimage.















*As noted above, the condo developers are at the gate. The Mountain Voices Alliance collects signatures of folks opposing the downtown Parkside project.
















The Lee Boys kick out the jams!













Beautiful women dance to the Lee Boys.














Yo Mama's Big Fat Booty Band, as close as I could get.







And the crowd, from a distance, rocking to the Booty Band.









And now, a word from our sponsor!










The Grascals, bluegrass band.















A beautiful, graceful mime.


























Menage, or two of them, anyway, at the Mountain Xpress folkie stage.















Butterfly mural















There is always one unhappy person. He proudly posed for the picture, and then (very politely, calling me ma'am) supplied me with a Jack Chick comic! Nothing but the best for Bele Chere! (The music, people and food are all top-notch, so the Jesus-tracts are similarly at the forefront of excellence.)












Your humble narrator

Odds and Sods - Crepe Myrtle edition

Left: The Crepe Myrtle trees are now in fabulous bloom!

~*~

Amber Rhea and I have argued about a lot of stuff, veterans included, but her post yesterday was just too great AND IMPORTANT not to mention, particularly after all the hubbub over the 4th of July, when the incident she writes about occurred:

“Support our troops” means put a fucking yellow ribbon magnet on the back of your SUV (yes, it’s so cliché to even say it at this point, we’ve all heard it before), not actually providing care and coverage to the infirm. Oh right my dad gets a piddly $200 a month benefit from the government for being exposed to Agent Orange in Vietnam; “oops, our bad for exposing you to a potentially deadly chemical; here’s two hundred bucks!”

And leaving the infuriating irony aside, this whole situation has brought out into the light (yet again) the stark, ugly reality of the divide between the haves and the have-nots. We can spend billions of dollars on a wall between the US and Mexico but somehow we can’t figure out how to provide comprehensive health coverage for every citizen.

Read the whole righteous rant. Amber reminds me of what some of the Ron Paul supporters have said: it isn't so much that they are "against" the war, but rather that they just don't trust the government to do it (or anything else) correctly and without bankrupting us all as a side effect.

~*~

THE CANARY COALITION is sponsoring the 2008 Relay for Clean Air on August 23rd:

We all have the right to breathe clean air and The Relay for Clean Air is the annual civil rights march staged by the Canary Coalition to focus national attention on poor air quality in the greater Appalachian Region. The Relay flag is passed from one segment to the next over the 100 mile course that stretches from the Great Smoky Mountains National Park, along the Blue Ridge Parkway to downtown Asheville, NC. There are segments of the Relay designed for bicycle riders, runners and for walkers. The Relay is not a race, but rather a cooperative demonstration of determination by its participants.

Here is a detailed relay schedule, and you should contact them if you want to participate!

~*~

I haven't kept up with the whole fake-Obama-birth-certificate hoopla, and I am indebted to Mattt over at Bastard.logic for providing me with a handy-dandy link-o-rama to the whole thing. Firedoglake updates us:

Only the most rabid of partisans would place their blind trust in the candidacy of a man who cannot even prove he was born. What evidence do we have that this "Barack Hussein Obama" even exists? After all, detailed investigation reveals that his name, "Barack Hussein Obama," is an anagram for either "Dread Cthulu," or else, even more frighteningly, "Tom Boerwinkle." Why, his "father's" "race" is listed as "African," when he was really Black! Ha! HAH! Heh. Ho. Hum.

The Strata-Sphere debunks the birth certificate carefully, point by point, for any lingering doubters.

~*~

Another righteous rant over at Lotus, regarding Obama's flip-flop on the Foreign Intelligence Surveillance Act (FISA):

Let it be noted clearly that Barack Obama, who previously pledged to join in a filibuster of any bill that contained telcom immunity, not only didn't join any filibuster attempt, not only voted for the damn bill, he voted in favor of cloture. It would be hard to imagine a clearer reversal of position; this is the kind of thing for which the phrase "flip-flop" was truly destined.

But what made it even worse than the bald, cruel fact of the bill's passage was the way the media treated the story. Both AP and Reuters covered the vote as simply another question of political games, of a "legislative victory" for Bush, just another version of the horse-race coverage, who's up, who's down, without any consideration of the meaning of the vote. Worse, where they did consider the bill, they got it maddeningly, grossly, infuriatingly wrong.

Yes, you are hereby ordered to read all of this rant, too.

~*~

Finally, my homegirl Renegade Evolution had a harrowing accident, getting burned whilst "fire-spinning" (oh, holy God!)... but has characteristically taken this turn of events with her usual good humor. Nonetheless, she isn't feeling too well, so send her some good vibes!

She also reports on an interesting fellow named Kyle Payne, who seems to be making the rounds of feminist Blogdonia. What's this guy on about, anyway?

Left: red and lavender periwinkle.



Well, on the face of it, Kyle appears to be a terribly earnest young man who hates porn and misogyny. Oh my, yes. He weeps actual tears of sympathy for women, blah blah blah. I figured, a young John Stoltenberg acolyte, but with a blog.

Nope. Check out what Belledame reports, courtesy of the Iowa Independent:

An Iowa blogger who claimed to use activism and education to promote “a more just and life-affirming culture of sexuality” for women, especially those women who have been victims of sexual violence, has pleaded guilty to photographing and filming a college student's breasts without her consent.

Kyle D. Payne, 22 of Ida Grove, presented his guilty plea Monday in Iowa District Court for Buena Vista County. He agreed he was guilty of felony attempted burglary in the second degree and two counts of invasion of privacy, a serious misdemeanor.
Lynda Waddington :: Iowa Blogger Pleads Guilty to Secretly Photographing Woman's Breasts

In documents filed with the court, Payne agrees that "with an intent to arouse my sexual desire, I photographed and filmed Jane Doe and her breast without her consent." A portion of the plea agreement stating that Payne was of sound mind when the incident took place in early 2007 was stricken from the document, leaving only the portion where Payne agrees that he is currently of sound mind.

At the time of the incident, Payne had been employed by Buena Vista University as a dormitory resident adviser. Police reports indicate that while attending to an intoxicated and unconscious female student, Payne reportedly assaulted and photographed her. The guilty plea entered Monday did not include assault charges. Tips received by police and campus security following the incident led to a 10-month investigation that resulted in Payne's arrest in February....

Payne, who identified with radical feminists like Andrea Dworkin, attended a training for feminist anti-pornography activists in January at the University of Texas in Austin. An article in the Ida County Courier stated that Payne had "written papers and given several public presentations on feminist critiques of pornography, prostitution, and the 'rape culture,' in addition to serving as an advocate for survivors of sexual violence." According to a resume previously posted on his blog, he has attended many such conferences since 2004.

Payne faces a maximum of five years in prison and a fine of up to $7,500. As a condition of the plea deal, the state has agreed that no other charges will be filed as a result of this incident. Sentencing has been set for Aug. 11.

You really can't make this stuff up!

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EDIT 6:00PM--Long thread about Kyle Payne, with details on the case, accusations, unsubstantiated gossip, etc.

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Listening to: The Pogues - Amadie
via FoxyTunes

Medicines from the Earth

Left: Is there anything more calming and centering than the whispery patter of a light rain in the forest? (photo taken on one of the walking trails surrounding the Blue Ridge Assembly)

~*~

Black Mountain, North Carolina, is an amazing little town with a unique history. It is also stunningly beautiful, cozily nestled in the Blue Ridge Mountains, which look like sapphire shadows in the distance. Up close, there are numerous black mountains, one big one in particular (see photo below). The town is named for the Black Mountain range, a subset of the Blue Ridge Mountains. It has a very artsy history, with lots of innovative minds associated with the old Black Mountain College:

Black Mountain College was fundamentally different from other colleges and universities of the time. It was owned and operated by the faculty and was committed to democratic governance and to the idea that the arts are central to the experience of learning. All members of the College community participated in its operation, including farm work, construction projects and kitchen duty. Located in the midst of the beautiful North Carolina mountains near Asheville, the secluded environment fostered a strong sense of individuality and creative intensity within the small College community.

Legendary even in its own time, Black Mountain College attracted and created maverick spirits, some of whom went on to become well-known and extremely influential individuals in the latter half of the 20th century. A partial list includes people such as Willem and Elaine de Kooning, Robert Rauschenberg, Josef and Anni Albers, Jacob Lawrence, Merce Cunningham, John Cage, Cy Twombly, Kenneth Noland, Ben Shahn, Franz Kline, Arthur Penn, Buckminster Fuller, M.C. Richards, Francine du Plessix Gray, Charles Olson, Robert Creeley, Dorothea Rockburne and many others, famous and not-so-famous, who have impacted the world in a significant way. Even now, decades after its closing in 1957, the powerful influence of Black Mountain College continues to reverberate.

The Board of Directors even included William Carlos Williams and Albert Einstein.

For these reasons, the town vibe is strongly experimental and open. It's perfect that our symposium should be in this special place.


Do yall know how much I love these mountains? I would kill for them. I am thinking I should have my ashes scattered thereabouts. Pardon lapse into morbidity, but the demise of our dear Aunt Laura, whom one expected to live forever, has shaken me. (I imagined her being interviewed by TV in 30 years: OLDEST LIVING CONFEDERATE GRANDCHILD TELLS ALL, something like that. "Well," she would say, "I think the important thing is to have lots of plants in your house, and to stay busy!"--and with that, she would tell you the names of her sundry robust plants and hoist a half-finished baby-blanket into the camera-frame.)

~*~

I found myself wandering the large buildings in the Blue Ridge Assembly, looking at group-portraits and photographic records of various Methodist and Baptist summer camps, stretching back to 1906. Where are all these people now? And then I thought about all the photos taken of me over the years, probably hanging in rooms just like those.

I ended up spooking myself, expecting to see ME in a photo, rather as Jack Nicholson showed up in that band-photo at the end of THE SHINING.

I was in Black Mountain for the annual Medicines from the Earth herbal symposium. I was driven to said event by the redoubtable Erica, who drives like Dale Earnhardt--who, it should be remembered, was known as The Intimidator. For a reason! Careening over and around mountains in an SUV woulda been jolly fun for me as a kid, but now? Aiyee. Admittedly, I was somewhat green around the gills.

Random sociological inquiry: Why do herbalists all look alike? Does anybody know? It's embarrassing, yet fascinating: a panoply of bamboo and hemp shirts, long hair, old-school dreadlocks, Indian skirts, Tevas and Birkenstocks, numerous tattoos and piercings, not to mention the cars covered with lefty bumper stickers. The shock of recognition was an ongoing joke all weekend, as we repeatedly remarked that newcomers "look like they're here for the conference"--and indeed, they were. We were all cut from the same cloth. How does that happen? Is it good or bad? I found it comforting and disorienting, all at once, as I always do.

"No, that was wonderful. I love being reduced to a cultural stereotype."

~*~

Left: display by symposium sponsors GAIA HERBS.

Highlights included my favorite presenter, Cascade Anderson Geller, talking about how the medicinal herb Horsetail grass grew out of the ash of the Mount St. Helens volcanic eruption; an amazing example of how the earth regenerates itself.

The new trend in herbalism/health food (the two tend to morph together these days, now more than ever) is CHIA SEEDS, which everyone wants to know about. They are some pretty righteous seeds, so go out and start eating them immediately. Other interesting subjects include how to go gluten-free and how to go raw. (One of my own goals over the next year is to attempt a 75% raw diet.) It was great to network with other folks about this and other topics of interest to world-class flakes like ourselves.

Below left: the Blue Ridge Assembly. Below right: Black Mountain, NC.



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Listening to: Led Zeppelin - Black Mountain Side
via FoxyTunes