Levon Helm 1940-2012

I heard from my friend Blue Heron that Levon Helm had passed, which just broke my heart.

I adored his raspy Arkansas voice. I also loved him in Coal Miner's Daughter and The Right Stuff, which he narrated wonderfully in his trademark twang.

We will miss him so much.

Levon Helm, Drummer in the Band, Dies at 71
By JON PARELES
New York Times

Levon Helm, who helped forge a deep-rooted American music as the drummer and singer for the Band, died on Thursday in Manhattan. He was 71 and lived in Woodstock, N.Y.

His death, at Memorial Sloan-Kettering Cancer Center, was from complications of cancer, a spokeswoman for Vanguard Records said. He had recorded several albums for the label.

In Mr. Helm’s drumming, muscle, swing, economy and finesse were inseparably merged. His voice held the bluesy, weathered and resilient essence of his Arkansas upbringing in the Mississippi Delta.

Mr. Helm was the American linchpin of the otherwise Canadian group that became Bob Dylan’s backup band and then the Band. Its own songs, largely written by the Band’s guitarist, Jaime Robbie Robertson, and pianist, Richard Manuel, spring from roadhouse, church, backwoods, river and farm; they are rock-ribbed with history and tradition yet hauntingly surreal.

After the Band broke up in 1976, Mr. Helm continued to perform at every opportunity, working with a partly reunited Band and leading his own groups. He also acted in films, notably “Coal Miner’s Daughter” (1980). In the 2000s he became a roots-music patriarch, turning his barn in Woodstock — which had been a recording studio since 1975 — into the home of down-home, eclectic concerts called Midnight Rambles, which led to tours and Grammy-winning albums.

Mr. Helm gave his drums a muffled, bottom-heavy sound that placed them in the foundation of the arrangements, and his tom-toms were tuned so that their pitch would bend downward as the tone faded. But his playing didn’t call attention to himself. Three bass-drum thumps at the beginning of one of the Band’s anthems, “The Weight,“ were all that he needed to establish the song’s gravity. His playing served the song. In “The Shape I’m In," he juxtaposed Memphis soul, New Orleans rumba and military tattoo. But though it was tersely responsive to the music, the drumming also had an improvisational feel.

In the Band, lead vocals changed from song to song and sometimes within songs, and harmonies were elaborately communal. But particularly when lyrics turned to myths and tall tales of the American South — like “The Night They Drove Old Dixie Down,” “Ophelia” and “Rag Mama Rag” — the lead went to Mr. Helm, with his Arkansas twang and a voice that could sound desperate, ornery and amused at the same time.

Indeed it could.

~*~

And here is one of those amazing songs that you tend to hear at apocalyptic moments. Not for nothing has it become an ongoing cinema-staple, usually played as the protagonists are figuring out something important.

I remember a fight with my mother as a teenager, and going out on the stoop to pout. Hearing the song at that moment (coming from somewhere across the street) was a spiritual lesson I needed, one of my first tutorials in The First Noble Truth.

When the student is ready, the teacher will appear. And Levon was my teacher, in those few moments.

The Weight - The Band



Requiescat in pace.

Tuesday Tunes: Delta Moon and more

Yes, I have great music for the masses, as always.

You are hereby commanded to listen to THIS! Does this jam or what?!

Delta Moon - Ain't No Train



~*~

Time for Steely Dan! (You know you can't go very long on DEAD AIR without encountering Steely Dan.)

Some wit on YouTube suggested that whoever doesn't like this song, should drink their big black cow and get out of here. I concur.

Steely Dan - Black Cow



~*~

My late mama, whom I miss terribly, used to say (when profoundly disgusted with people she knew), "From now on, all my friends are gonna be strangers"... and that expression came from this song. She said it her whole life.

Pardoned by no less than Ronald Reagan (jingoism can be helpful, if you're talented), Merle Haggard, ex-convict, is legally allowed to check the N box on the "Have you ever been convicted of a felony?" question on future job applications.

He has such a classically beautiful country-and-western voice.

Merle Haggard - (All my friends are gonna be) Strangers



~*~

I know, we all love Bob Dylan, but after hearing this version, there simply is no other. (And I very much prefer JW's zinging electric blues-guitar to kazoos. Christ, what WAS he thinking?)

Yes, I think it can be EASily done... just take everything down to --

Johnny Winter - Highway 61



Enjoy!

Slouching towards Tibet

At left: Authentic Texas goat attempts to eat my camera.



Father Conner grew up in New Orleans, and used to tell us that as a child, he earned extra money from plugging and unplugging various lights and appliances during the Jewish Sabbath. The Orthodox Jews in his neighborhood didn't want to break the Sabbath rules, but still needed the lights on. Tsk! I would think, self-righteously. What kind of hypocrisy is that?

Likewise, on one of those cable networks, I saw how (so-called) high-caste Hindus employ low-caste Hindus to do their killing for them: vermin, bugs, whatever. In this way, the high-caste family doesn't take on the direct taboo of killing or exterminating, yet they still get the job done and get mice out of the house. Hmph! I thought similarly.

And in my arrogance and egotism, I guess I plumb forgot the rest of Father Conner's instruction, wherein he explained that this kinda thing was the human condition, and we all do it. (This is the genesis of the expression: having your cake and eating it too.) Today, a humongous ugly bug was outside my door, still alive despite being trapped inside our apartment building all night... and like always, I flung it over to Cyril, who happily munched away on it. I'm giving him protein, I told myself.

Father Conner came floating back into my memory, and I realized that I have been letting my cats kill bugs rather than do it myself, because yeah, I am trying to stop killing beings and all that good Buddhist stuff. Thus, I am exactly like the Jews and Hindus in the above stories. I am technically not "breaking the law".. but... well, yes I am.

((shame))

Bob Dylan, one of many in my private Greek chorus, bubbles up in my brain:

Not even you can hide
You see you're just like me
I hope you're satisfied

...

Will I ever be able to let the creepy-crawlies roam about in my abode, without rousting some sleeping feline and pointing their snout in the direction of the 6-or-8-legged entity, knowing they will leap upon it in kitty-joy? Munch, munch.

Ohhh, what a thought. Yes, I can easily participate in vegetarianism, even veganism, but when I think of bugs, snakes, vermin and other such gremlins? Makes my proverbial skin crawl. I can't let them in here. What will people think of me? Better to let the cats do it, as a sort of half-assed solution.

Just like those folks that had serious paperwork to do, but still wanted to keep the sabbath, so they enlisted little Herb Conner to plug their lights in and gave him quarters for tips. And everyone was happy.

My self-righteousness in check, I get it now. And I laugh at our common humanity and accompanying dilemmas.

~*~

And just when you thought it was safe to go back into the waters of Blogdonia (nostalgic, summertime JAWS reference, for the baby-boomers in my readership)...

A comment of mine was pointedly not approved on a blog yesterday. Certainly, I'm not surprised, since the blogger's friends really dislike me. But it was a good comment; pertinent, polite, duly linked and on topic. It wasn't approved because I am still persona non grata. ((frowny-face))

Caution: Daisy climbs soapbox. (Last chance; leave now!)

The Tea Party reminds me of something... I stick my finger in the air, remembering that you don't need a weatherman to know which way the wind blows... and I remember THIS MOMENT. I remember the eve of Reaganism and the highly-charged political atmosphere of 1980. History and politics are cyclical. Deja Vu all over again. (In fact, continuing the historical comparison, I wouldn't be surprised if Obama is a one-termer, as Jimmy Carter was.)

And I am here to tell you: We cannot afford to be divided right now. As we were before.

I say this now to the young people, who have only known (as adults) the whole "Hope and Change" Obama-mantra... young people who think Dubya was a real right-winger (and you ain't seen nothing yet): We must come together. We do not have to agree on everything, but we MUST put aside differences and make political alliances. NOW. And these kinds of internal squabbles and petty grudges (I include my own) are a luxury; interpersonal fallout from being on the ascent. In about 5 years, the arguments will seem, well, rather silly. We will wonder why we didn't seize the moment and unite when we had the opportunity. And that window of opportunity will close. People you love will become Republicans, if they haven't already. People will convert to strict, austere religious sects that don't allow popular music. Weird shit will start happening and you will get scared, wondering if everything is going to hell in a handbasket.

To guard against despair, you need like-minded friends. And I offer myself as one.

Because I was there before, and I remember.

Just letting you know. When everyone suddenly seems to be on the Right, you will be heartily sorry for every sectarian snub, every missed chance to make common cause with lefties. Please put aside this cool-kids-clique-mentality NOW, because later, it will bite you in the ass in various and sundry ways, seen and unseen. The more diverse your involvements, the easier it will be to PIVOT (for lack of a better word) to a politically-expedient position when necessary. And the better off you will be.

If you back yourself into a strict, sectarian corner, huddled with only people like yourself who AGREE with you, then you very efficiently cut yourself off. You leave yourself extremely vulnerable in virtually every way. I know this from experience.

Please don't. Reconsider. If it is impossible for you to embrace ME, due to my cantankerous hippie ways, I can dig that... but please find other elder leftists or feminists, who remember the Reagan era and who can connect with you, giving you perspective and helping guide you through it.

I come in peace. Namaste.

~*~

No, I haven't totally GIVEN UP. I am still rabble rousing on behalf of my candidates, still working for alla them good causes. But as I said, I feel the change in the air. Don't need no weatherman. Sarah Palin is the Paul Revere of the movement, and she has effectively crowned my next governor. I have no reason to doubt her resolve, or any of the rest of them. By contrast, the left is currently in shreds; bedraggled and beleaguered. We can't even sustain a real live antiwar movement. (THEY have sustained their PRO-war movement.) I think they will easily kick us to the curb, unless we all WAKE UP.

And I still hear snoring. Hello? Anybody listening?

Dead Air Church: I shall be released

I did not initially do a respectful obit for Mary Travers, because she once reamed me out when I did customer service. (sings: How many roads must a CSR walk down, before you talk to her niiiiiice?) But I've decided to relent, and today I say, REST IN PEACE, Mary.

Spiritual note: Once upon a time, I would never have relented. And now, you'll notice, it only takes me about 5-6 weeks. PROGRESS!

The following is Mama Cass Elliot, Joni Mitchell and Mary Travers, singing one of Dead Air Church's semi-official hymns, Bob Dylan's I shall be released. Awful instrumental arrangement in the background lets you know this was from 60s American TV (Mama Cass's short-lived variety show). Try to ignore it, especially the awful BRASS, ugh. Luckily, their pretty girl-harmonies survive the awfulness of the back-up.

Admit you like their sparkly outfits!

~*~

I Shall be Released - Mama Cass, Joni Mitchell, Mary Travers (1969)

Watching the River Flow

The particular river in the video is the Illinois River. Love the piano work in this song, courtesy of the song's co-producer, Leon Russell.



If I had wings and I could fly
I know where I would go
But right now I'll just sit here
so contentedly
And watch the river flow

~*~

Watching the River Flow - Bob Dylan (1971)

Dead Air Church: Gotta Serve Somebody

Okay, I've got three versions, so choose the one you want!

The first one is the best, musically speaking--a live version by Booker T and the MGs, from the Bob Dylan: 30th Anniversary Celebration at Madison Square Garden. (Steve Cropper on guitar! And one of the greatest musicians ever, fabulous Jim Keltner on drums.) The second rendition is by Judy Collins, from Judy sings Dylan... Just like a Woman.

And finally, the original, from the now-legendary Slow Train Coming.

~*~

Booker T and the MGs



Judy Collins



Bob Dylan (original)

Confederate Memorial Day

CSA Battle Flag image from The Palmetto Scoop.



Today is officially Confederate Memorial Day. This day in history marks the capture of Jefferson Davis. From the Greenville News:

COLUMBIA — All state agencies, 10 counties and one school district in South Carolina are observing Confederate Memorial Day.

The state holiday is officially May 10, but employees get Monday off.

The holiday marks the death of Confederate commander Thomas “Stonewall” Jackson and the capture of Confederate President Jefferson Davis.

South Carolina is among several Southern states that designate a state holiday to honor Confederate soldiers, although they do so on different days. Alabama, Georgia and Mississippi observed Confederate Memorial Day on April 27th. Texas honors Gen. Robert E. Lee's birthday, Jan. 19, as Confederate Heroes Day.

May 10 was renewed as an official holiday in South Carolina in 2000 as part of a compromise that also made Martin Luther King Day a permanent holiday.

I have my issues with "Confederate Memorial Day" and its questionable political genesis, but then again, I figure I can use this day any way I like.

I'd like to take this day to honor one of my ancestors, a CSA Army deserter named (by most accounts) Thomas Hatcher. A native of Virginia, he deserted the Confederate army at about the Civil War's mid-point, and swam across the Ohio River, eventually taking up residence in Pittsburgh. He was variously known as TA Hatcher and TJ Hatcher, as well as several other names; I don't know anything else about him, except that he appeared to stay on the move, even after the war's end.

One might presume that deserting the CSA was some risky business, and that is why he moved around a lot and changed his name. Was he proud or ashamed? What made him do it? Whatever his reasons, I am extremely proud of him. This decision cost him his family and his former life. He stayed in the north, and from all I have been able to discern, never went back to the south.

As I have written here before, I don't know if he was sick, injured or just fed up and disgusted. I like to think it was the latter, and he had seen enough. I trace a direct line from great-great-great grandfather Hatcher to my own anti-war sentiments that have sustained me throughout a lifetime. I enjoy believing that pacifist convictions are encoded in my DNA.

On this day, I honor you, Thomas Hatcher, for having the courage to lay down your arms and beat swords into plowshares. I am lighting a candle to honor your great decision not to continue fighting in a racist war.

Far between sundown's finish and midnight's broken toll
We ducked inside the doorway, thunder crashing
As majestic bells of bolts struck shadows in the sounds
Seeming to be the chimes of freedom flashing

Flashing for the warriors whose strength is not to fight
Flashing for the refugees on the unarmed road of flight
And for each and every underdog, soldier in the night
And we gazed upon the chimes of freedom flashing.

(Bob Dylan, Chimes of Freedom)

Ash Wednesday ruminations on feminism, religion, etc

Because I do not hope to turn again
Because I do not hope
Because I do not hope to turn
Desiring this man's gift and that man's scope
I no longer strive to strive towards such things
(Why should the aged eagle stretch its wings?)
Why should I mourn
The vanished power of the usual reign?

Because I do not hope to know again
The infirm glory of the positive hour
Because I do not think
Because I know I shall not know
The one veritable transitory power
Because I cannot drink
There, where trees flower, and springs flow, for there is nothing again

Because I know that time is always time
And place is always and only place
And what is actual is actual only for one time
And only for one place
I rejoice that things are as they are and
I renounce the blessed face
And renounce the voice
Because I cannot hope to turn again
Consequently I rejoice, having to construct something
Upon which to rejoice

And pray to God to have mercy upon us
And pray that I may forget
These matters that with myself I too much discuss
Too much explain
Because I do not hope to turn again
Let these words answer
For what is done, not to be done again
May the judgement not be too heavy upon us

Because these wings are no longer wings to fly
But merely vans to beat the air
The air which is now thoroughly small and dry
Smaller and dryer than the will
Teach us to care and not to care
Teach us to sit still.

Pray for us sinners now and at the hour of our death
Pray for us now and at the hour of our death.

--TS Eliot, Ash Wednesday

~*~

In the middle of a very contentious thread titled What if the feminist blogosphere is a form of digital colonialism?--an atheist feminist named The Apostate let loose with the following:

The feminist blogosphere is VERY correct and proper. There is a huge orthodoxy, on race issues, on sexuality issues, on major progressive themes, on language. on religion. I don’t think this is a bad thing, but it makes it hard to embrace outliers like me who might otherwise contribute to the conversation. For instance, I personally violate the religion orthodoxy (I hate Muslims and Islam and religious people in general), I am not all that sensitive about language (once called an Islam-apologist feminist a bitch, insist on continuing to use verboten words like “lame” and I like my gendered insults, such as prick), I refuse to include Sean Bell in my list of feminist issues, I often say I hate men, I am publicly glad when misfortune is visited upon my enemies (anti-choice Andrew Sullivan is HIV positive - yay! Marc Ambinder is ugly - yay!) and other such horrifying things. No wonder nobody links to me!

Haha.

(Yes, she really did add the "Haha"--which I think really makes the post.)

And she was ignored on the thread. Which was good; if her intent was to derail, it didn't work. But I was also disappointed that the comments about religious women and a gay man with HIV, were not challenged. Only Renee (at Womanist Musings) challenged the comment; no one else did.

Why? Did they agree with her? If any other group(s) of people had been insulted with open hate speech, would feminists have remained silent?

Initially, I wrote off Apostate's little tantrum, since I know that she once was Muslim herself, and I well understand that ex-fundamentalists are often traumatized by their upbringing. But hey, aren't we all? I responded to my racist father by becoming an anti-racist activist, for instance. Apostate has responded to her strict upbringing by trashing Islam, and then extending this critique to all religion.

Later in the thread, Apostate proclaimed--"What a lot of petty self righteous assholes the feminist blogosphere is full of," and after her proclamation that she hates most of the women in the world (who ARE religious, take note), I had just had enough. We ended up in an argument on her own blog, and she ended up censoring my comments and banning me permanently.

Admittedly, my first emotion was: thrilled!!! Oh boy!!! Finally, after years of arguing, I was outright BANNED from AN ATHEIST BLOG!!! Hot damn. (I will be linking Apostate for years, she must have known her hits will increase from now on.) Atheists looooove to brag (rightly and correctly) that they get tossed off of religious blogs and boards as soon as they even announce themselves. BAM, gone. I've seen it myself, countless times. And they are pretty proud of that, as well they should be.

On one now-defunct Christian message board I used to frequent, the censorship was particularly aggravating. I was usually having great FUN arguing with the atheist or agnostic, while others would become greatly agitated, and eventually ban the person. I would end up defending them, and on at least two occasions, I left internet bulletin boards over the banning of intelligent, well-mannered atheists, who did nothing more than freak Christians out with tough questions.

And at least twice, I was called on the carpet for my own heresy. Yes, you know what it is, my beloved existentialism, my Kierkegaard, my science fiction and Teilhard de Chardin. From an amalgam of these sources, I employ my standard argument against the atheists, which is one they cannot refute. As far as I am concerned, the only argument. THE argument.

The reason I believe in God/religion/Church/sacraments, etc is an endless variation of these statement ...a riff, if you will:

I like it.

It is fun, it gives pleasure.

It makes me ecstatic/happy/peaceful/optimistic.

It makes me feel better than I would feel otherwise.

It's great. Aesthetically, it's really neat.

I want to be a priest/holy woman myself, I am pretty good at it!

I feel that God listens to me/speaks to me.

Etc.

These statements make no claim for objective truth, as I don't think we can. These statements are MY truth; they are about why I choose to practice as I do. It is about ME. I have taken full responsibility: this is what makes MY life better, gives MY life meaning, this is how I view the world, and how I relate to what I call the high concepts, and you call delusions. I do not care if you like it or not, because I don't do it for you, I do it for me.

If one is a rational atheist, you should be able to admit I am right. If I go to Mass or read a book or meditate or sing or clap my hands and claim to conjure up the living devil--why should you care? Do you care if people go to football games or rock concerts? Do you care what kinds of sex people choose to have? Do you care about which movies they watch and which books they read? Well, why is the choice of belief or religion not the same?

BECAUSE, the atheists intone, RELIGION CLAIMS TO BE TRUE.

Well, duh. The Buckeyes will kick Wolverine ass, and that is TRUE TOO, ask any Buckeyes fan. Ask any diehard fans of STAR WARS or LORD OF THE RINGS which movie is the best, and they will assure you STAR WARS and THAT IS THE TRUTH! If people are having sex and claim to enjoy it, I assume they are telling the truth and I take their word for it that it is true, this is good sex for them. But you know, it might not be good sex for ME.

We all say what we claim to be TRUE, and we constantly disagree with each other about clothes, about shoes, about where to live and how to spend our time. We all testify to the truth as we know and believe it, and yet, religion is somehow a "special" case, something apart from other choices we make, about sexuality, about occupation, about marriage, home ownership, carbon footprints, childbearing. Actually, my contention is that religion is the same type of choice as these other lifestyle choices, that feminists can discuss without hyperventilating (or should be able to). We are not living in the Holy Roman Empire; we have choices. We are no longer forced to be XYZ just because our parents were. And then again, there are lots of characteristics we share with our parents, our families or villages of origin, and this might be another one.

We may have something very special to bring to the table, for this reason.

~*~

Which is better, a Chevy or a Ford?

If we don't know what to believe, we ask someone we respect, someone we think knows about cars: Should I buy a Chevy or a Ford?

Chevy, says the Respected Person authoritatively. Then, you buy the Chevy and it breaks down in rush hour. It costs a fortune to tow it, you have no spare. You are fucking livid. GODDAMN CHEVYS! I WAS TOLD THEY WERE GOOD CARS!!!!!!!

And you know, the guy who told you that, thought they were. Chevys had always been good to him. Not a one had given him trouble, he went coast-to-coast in one and had a blast. Alriiiiite! Took my Chevy to the levee but the levee was dry...

New Chevy hater: Don't sing that fucking song around me!

Yes, I just compared God to cars. As Aldous Huxley famously said, Ford's in his Flivver and all is right with the world. It is an excellent analogy. Things do not work the same for everyone. They just don't, and no, I don't know why. (I am currently studying Buddhism, trying to figure out that part.) But why would we expect religion to fit everyone, if we can't even agree on which songs are good, which food is good, if a Ford or Chevy is best? Those are easy. Now, you bring in GOD? And we wonder why we disagree?

Apostate's Chevy might have broken down anyway--maybe her parents had (as I suspect) already driven the damn Chevy into the ground by the time she got it. But my Chevy works well, always has, still is.

Am I an idiot because I got a good Chevy?

You can see how this argument might make very devout Christians (and devout Muslims and any other devout fundamentalist of any type) very upset. They do not want you to suggest that religious truth is not an objective truth, THE truth. They claim they have the truth. And I answer: if it was, it would be self-evident. And it is not.

That is to say, we mostly agree on, say, the color green. We don't know why we do... but if I say, check the green box, most people will.

If I say check the most Godly box? I create chaos immediately.

Religion is therefore in the category of art, music, beauty, love, aesthetics. It is opinion, something experienced, an acquired taste, or maybe something someone has been starved for. Or something someone is very angry with, as in the angry Chevy-buyer. They were promised something, and it didn't deliver. Or it was delivered, rather like Apostate's sedan delivery, by wrecking her whole house with it. (Certainly, that's no way to make a good first-impression.)

The anti-religious people declare religion irrational. Music, art, love and sexual desire also are quite irrational, but they don't seem to want to ban those. And yeah, when I say that, the religious people can get as livid as the atheists. (Often the self-described agnostics are the only folks who stay with me during this discussion, nodding the whole way, agreeing that comparing religion to music makes sense.)

And few people turn against religion as thoroughly and furiously as ex-fundies. I can spot them in a line-up. Know why? Like Apostate, they sound the same. They have exchanged one form of intolerance for another. While they were subscribing to fundamentalism, it was the sinners and infidels and devils and so on, who were bad. After the backslide? You are stupid, ridiculous, sky-fairy believer, idiot, moron. (Apostate called me stupid also.) What gets me is IT'S THE SAME PEOPLE. The religious people who curse me for not being strict enough, fall away from the Church, the Mosque, wherever, and pivot perfectly into the ones who trash me for stupidity as a believer. I am sure when Apostate was a proper, strictly devout Muslim, she would have hated me just as much as she does now. She just uses different words now.

They are the same people. I can't tell them apart without a scorecard. The approach is identical: intolerant, judgmental, finger-pointing, merciless, hateful. If you don't see things their way, you are a fool. Period. I often forget who I am arguing with, and have to stop--wait, is this the atheist or the fundie?

I usually can only tell them apart because the fundies won't say "fuck"--and the atheists will.

There are feminist enclaves literally everywhere. Even in the strictest, most dangerous places on earth for women--there are women strategizing for freedom and access. What bothers me is how they are walled off from each other.

Often, this is because the women hate each other. Their countries are at war with each other; possibly their religions have historically been enemies. But they will not come together for their own rights, there is too much bad blood.

In every religious women's community, Muslim, Christian, Jewish, Hindu, Buddhist, Taoist, Sikh, etc etc... there are feminists. EVERY SINGLE ONE. And they struggle alone, often, because non-religious feminists don't regard them as "real feminists" although these same non-religious feminists live under male governments, work for male companies, vote for males, sleep with males, give birth to males, take money from male daddies and love male brothers, sons, friends, etc... they say religion is unfeminist because men run it. (I know, makes no sense, go figure.) So religious feminists try to get it done within their own faith communities. But in the process, they are not interacting with the larger feminist community, from whom they feel estranged. As a result, they don't learn all the lingo, the habits, the culture of feminism. They are thus easily shocked when they first meet feminist libertines or political radicals. It is my contention that if they were allowed in the coalition, if their presence became commonplace and unchallenged, they would get used to it, as we all get used to everything.

I assume such women, emissaries from their various communities, would be largely like me, pretty tolerant, or older and jaded from having seen a lot already (particularly if they are ordained ministers or professionals). But I can still remember back in the 70s, when Carter Heyward was on the cover of Ms, and all hell broke lose, as atheist and agnostic feminists complained. And I am there saying, wait, doncha know, this is CARTER HEYWARD!!!!

Without stopping to ask who this groundbreaking feminist even IS, just the knowledge that she was a priest, was enough to inflame the atheist rabble. It's the IDEA, you see, that women would put FAITH IN RELIGION (instead of, you know, say, money or the government) and RELIGION OPPRESSES WOMEN. PERIOD.

Money and government, of course, have never oppressed women.

(((sighs heavily)))

And so, the impasse. The small religious feminist communities labor onward, but they are struggling by themselves. They need the authority and influence of the larger feminism, which is too uncomfortable with religion. And the religious women are often too naive and provincial for the larger feminism as well. The problems feed each other.

And I get banned from Apostate's blog, and called stupid.

Maybe I am, since I am ever hopeful we can all get together.

~*~

The Five of Wands, Strife. (from the Rider-Waite Tarot deck)


And in fairness, since I linked Mandy and Brittany's piece above, I suppose I should also link their subsequent apology for writing it, or for how they wrote it, or something. (I am curious if they deliberately chose Ash Wednesday, a day of penance, to apologize, or was that an accident? Great symbolism.)

Initially, I had no problems with the piece, until reading some of the criticisms, particularly Renee's, Sylvia's and Lauren's. I still think their hearts were in the right place, and that does count for something. I am not too fond of the term "token" which as I said on Renee's blog, used to denote something very specific, back in the day. A "token" was someone who shores up the status quo using their minority status; they lend legitimacy to a possibly-illegitimate enterprise. Nowadays, it seems "token" just means any minority-person in majority space, and that is not how I use the term, or how I grew up understanding and relating to it. I have recently been called a token myself, to my puzzlement; it basically meant I was the only _____ in a certain space. No one has ever accused me (and certainly, not Renee!) of perserving the status quo. Ha!

Thus, when first reading the word "token" I assumed this was the "new" meaning: a minority person in majority space. So, I did not criticize the word. However, I now see that the term "token" is meant differently by different people, and People of Color still adhere to the old usage that radicals have historically favored. It is white people who simply mean "a minority person in majority space"! Aha!

With this helpful delineation, I am enlightened. And I understand why minority people would bridle (as I have, in various settings) at this label. And why this piece caused so much strife throughout Feminist Blogdonia.

(NOTE: There were also additional issues over language used in the post, such as the use of an offensive term for transgendered people.)

On the other hand, I found the self-flagellation in the Official Apologia a bit much, even for Ash Wednesday. Is all of this really necessary? Well, maybe so.

In the fallout of the original incendiary discussion, Amber Rhea attempted some discussion of her (mixed-up and confused, which was the whole point) class background, and was flayed for it bigtime. I was shocked. (Do they expect everyone to emerge from their 20s talking like Leon Trotsky, or what?)

Perhaps Apostate has a point--why do we go after each other this way? What good does it do, exactly?

Heart, whom I have had major issues with (as regular readers know), thinks it's the invasion of The Man. I admit, I really go for that 70s talk, and she is all over it:

Regardless the movement, the Man can be depended upon to approach movement people who are the most marketable, the least experienced and therefore the most trusting (and grateful) and the least risky, people he knows will make honest, exploitable, mistakes, and who are already leaders with manipulatable followers. He’s not all that concerned about what the people he chooses actually believe or the quality of their activism; he just wants to make a buck where a buck is to be made. Movement people are virtually always naive about these things, and their leaders often have big heads. They frequently readily believe what their followers have said to and about them and are too quick to believe their own press. They imagine they have been discovered and chosen because of their unusual skills or gifts or something like that, because the Man is impressed by their ideals, dedication and vision, when usually, it’s more that they are marketable, naive and exploitable. They are young, they are pretty or handsome, they are white, they are middle class, they have the right kind of education, they say the right kinds of things in the right kinds of ways and so do their followers, and so, people will buy. That’s all that matters to the Man.

Once the Man gets in, all hell is guaranteed to break loose. Movement people will now fight, not in the productive ways of the past but in the destructive ways that always follow in the Man’s wake. They’ll fight over who was chosen, who wasn’t chosen, why the chosen were chosen and the not-chosen weren’t. They’ll fight over the fact that some who were hardworking weren’t recognized and some who weren’t so hardworking were. They’ll fight over the way the chosen behave, what they do once they have all of that attention, and what they don’t do. They’ll fight over who did and didn’t get the credit for this or that, who stole this and who stole that. The chosen will find themselves — always, guaranteed — in a downward spiral of compromise, because you have to compromise to deal with the Man. The compromises the chosen make will become fodder for ever-worsening, ever-deepening and -intensifying intra-movement conflicts, more blaming, more resentments, increased finger-pointing, increased vigilance. New people who join the movement unaware of the history will defend the wrong people, accuse the wrong people and will get gobbled up by the Man themselves. They won’t understand the hostility they then face from other movement people; after all, they’re not doing anything differently from what others have (apparently) done. And their confusion will be eminently understandable. In the end, everybody will be drinking from the same poisoned well, and everybody will be sick from drinking there.

On this Ash Wednesday, let me say dramatically: SHE IS RIGHT.

Yes, you read it correctly, I just admitted HEART IS RIGHT.

I am reminded of a bunch of girls in high school, clamoring for a place on the cheerleading squad.

Can we please STOP?! Heart thinks it's too late, the thief has entered (nods to Heart, with my Bible reference there)...and I wonder, is she also right about what this means: The End of Feminist Blogging (the title of her post)? Is it already too late? Can we turn this shit around, or will we have eaten each other alive first?

I have criticized the denizens of Feminist Blogdonia as much as the next feminist blogger, and probably will continue whenever I think there have been damaging excesses. But the wholesale evisceration that is more suitable for a radio edition of FOCUS ON THE FAMILY, needs to stop. Going onto a blog where someone is, for example, attempting to clarify their own class consciousness and telling them what they OUGHT TO BE DOING, is not going to help us reach any feminist goals, but will instead cause more women to withdraw from feminism in fear that they cannot possibly measure up.

Time for the Act of Contrition--I have confessed, now it's everyone else's turn.

~*~

My official Dead Air Ash Wednesday hymn, Saving Grace by Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers, was removed from last year's post, you may have noticed. Warner Music Group (or similar capitalist greedhead swine) strikes again! I found the song performed live, but can't embed it here. Blah. My second choice, Redemption Song by Bob Marley, also has embedding disabled. WHAT IS GOING ON AROUND HERE?!?!? Harumph.

Looking for alternate hymns, I figure yall might like at least ONE of these.

Letter to Hermione - David Bowie



No offense to my beloved Bob, but as we all know, it's often umm, better to find his fabulous songs sung by someone else!

I found this really nice version of "I Shall be Released" by Chrissie Hynde at something called the "30th Anniversary Bob Dylan Concert"--no other details of where the performance was.

I Shall Be Released - Chrissie Hynde



And more Bob! I've been looking for this one forever--it probably won't last out Lent! Better listen now!

"For every hung-up person in the whole wide universe..."

Chimes of Freedom - The Byrds



*NSFW* MAY TRIGGER* ETC*

I defy you to listen to all 10 minutes. It's actually edited down from the original 11 minutes, believe it or not.

I have a tattoo inspired by the line "I'm not gonna wear my heart on my sleeve" at 4:39. (As a result, I do wear my heart on my sleeve.)

Some people got no choice
When they can never find a voice
to talk with that they can even call their own
So the first thing that they see
That allows them the right to be
They follow it
Know what that's called?
Bad luck.

Street Hassle - Lou Reed



Happy Ash Wednesday to you all!

Now it's a monster and will not obey

No, you are NOT expected to listen to all 7 minutes.

Offering this as Exhibit A, in my efforts to prove to people that revolutionary talk was all the rage in 1970, the year Bill and Bernadine were cooking up bombs in Greenwich Village and blew up three of their friends... and for the record, those are the only people they ever killed. Themselves.

As I said in the comments of my post titled the Bradley Effect, everyone got in on the act.

I wrote the following, in that thread, which I am reproducing here:

Did you ever hear the song "Monster" by Steppenwolf? I mention it (as a totally random example) because I first heard it at a redneck* party with a bunch of bikers drinking beer. I thought, WOW, since some of them were enthusiastically singing along with it, even the ones with confederate flag tattoos. And this was Bill Ayers' era.

[Mike commented on the thread]: "but that that class of radicals think different from mainstream America."

Speaking of 2008, you would be right... in fact, any time after Reagan was inaugurated, you would be right. BUT AT THE TIME???? You are dead-ass wrong. As the poet-laureate of the age so memorably sang, "There was music in the cafes at night and revolution in the air." Hippies, bikers, housewives who frequented the same beauty salon my grandmother did, my neighbors, et. al. talked about revolution as if it might be inevitable, and there was even a revolutionary faction of ex-GIs against the war. Even serial killers (think: the most famous of our time) believed in revolution and made that part of their psychosis. IT WAS VERY DIFFERENT THAN NOW, and even my Republican grandfather from West Virginia thought there could be revolution.

Can I ask how old you are, and if you were there at the time? How old were you in the 70s?

As I wrote [in my Bill Ayers post linked above], I am getting fed up with the rewrites of history by people who have it wrong in countless ways. In addition, you are applying the morality of NOW to the morality of THEN, and as we all know, 20/20 hindsight is perfect.

And I offer the lyrics, also, to "Monster" (below) for those who can't get through the whole song. Musically, starts off like gangbusters alright, great middle-section, then at the end, turns into a sing-along... but again the SING-ALONG aspect was the POINT. Regular people, not Weatherman, but REGULAR PEOPLE bought this album and used to SING ALONG!!! The video I have selected, however, is pretty good. There are several versions, suggesting this song is as much of a landmark in other people's lives, as it was in mine.

This song represents so much. I wondered, as a teenager, if it meant there really might be revolution, which excited me. I was a working class kid from Ohio, and that's what I thought. The concept of revolution was not APART from the masses of mainstream America, at that time... just as now, "ordinary, mainstream America" is suddenly learning the intricacies of Wall Street economics, whether we really want to or not.

Dammit, stop rewriting history!


*one of those words I am allowed to use, but you aren't. :)


~*~

Words and music by John Kay and Jerry Edmonton

(Monster)
Once the religious, the hunted and weary
Chasing the promise of freedom and hope
Came to this country to build a new vision
Far from the reaches of kingdom and pope
Like good Christians, some would burn the witches
Later some got slaves to gather riches

But still from near and far to seek America
They came by thousands to court the wild
And she just patiently smiled and bore a child
To be their spirit and guiding light

And once the ties with the crown had been broken
Westward in saddle and wagon it went
And 'til the railroad linked ocean to ocean
Many the lives which had come to an end
While we bullied, stole and bought our homeland
We began the slaughter of the red man

But still from near and far to seek America
They came by thousands to court the wild
And she just patiently smiled and bore a child
To be their spirit and guiding light

The blue and grey they stomped it
They kicked it just like a dog
And when the war over
They stuffed it just like a hog

And though the past has it's share of injustice
Kind was the spirit in many a way
But it's protectors and friends have been sleeping
Now it's a monster and will not obey

(Suicide)
The spirit was freedom and justice
And it's keepers seem generous and kind
It's leaders were supposed to serve the country
But now they won't pay it no mind
'Cause the people grew fat and got lazy
And now their vote is a meaningless joke
They babble about law and order
But it's all just an echo of what they've been told
Yeah, there's a monster on the loose
It's got our heads into a noose
And it just sits there watchin'

Our cities have turned into jungles
And corruption is stranglin' the land
The police force is watching the people
And the people just can't understand
We don't know how to mind our own business
'Cause the whole worlds got to be just like us
Now we are fighting a war over there
No matter who's the winner
We can't pay the cost
'Cause there's a monster on the loose
It's got our heads into a noose
And it just sits there watching

(America)
America where are you now?
Don't you care about your sons and daughters?
Don't you know we need you now
We can't fight alone against the monster

Dead Air Church: It's all over now, Baby Blue

After a serious incident last night, I sat down and promptly drew the eight of cups, which signifies journeying and departures. I have always liked that this card is found among the suit of CUPS, meaning that it is considered a good thing; a positive cup-overflowing departure, not a bad one.

Important to make that designation. In real life, I think we categorize leave-taking as a bad thing. So, we bring things to a head and we deliberately start fights, to force unwanted people away. It seems easier to oust a person from your home after a fight, than it is to politely ask them to leave when they have worn out their welcome.

If we just could figure out when we have worn out our welcome and stayed too long, such nasty confrontations would not be necessary. But many of us were never schooled in these social graces. For instance, I never know the right length of time to hang around, and I am usually one of the last to leave. ("I'm here for the party! And I ain't leavin till they throw. me. out!") I've been warned about this all my life. Maybe someday, I'll learn.

For now, I go to one of my lifelong muses, for his comforting words.

Have a great sabbath, everyone.

~*~

You must leave now, take what you need
you think will last.
But whatever you wish to keep
you better grab it fast.
Yonder stands your orphan with his gun
Crying like a fire in the sun
Look out, the saints are coming through
And it's all over now, Baby Blue

The highway is for gamblers,
better use your sense.
Take what you have gathered from coincidence
The empty-handed painter from your streets
Is drawing crazy patterns on your sheets
This sky, too, is folding under you
And it's all over now, Baby Blue

All your seasick sailors,
they are rowing home.
All your reindeer armies,
are all going home.
The lover who just walked out your door
Has taken all his blankets from the floor
The carpet, too, is moving under you
And it's all over now, Baby Blue

Leave your stepping stones behind,
something calls for you.
Forget the dead you've left--
they will not follow you.
The vagabond who's rapping at your door
Is standing in the clothes that you once wore.
Strike another match, go start anew
And it's all over now, Baby Blue.

~*~

It's all over now, Baby Blue - Bob Dylan

[via FoxyTunes / Bob Dylan]

Dead Air Church: Bring them home now

EDIT = June 4, 2008, in bold.

Left: Furman University professors silently protest during President George W. Bush's commencement speech at Furman University yesterday.

The Greenville News has removed all photos of any protests at Furman, with three very polite, somewhat tepid exceptions. The rest of the photo galleries are all positive, and you would not realize there was an extensive, all-day demonstration from looking through the existing posted photo galleries. The original photo I used is no longer available. (I wonder why?) Professors obviously rate inclusion, but Code Pink doesn't.

My original photo description: Code Pink member protesting President George W. Bush's commencement speech at Furman University yesterday. Greenville News photo by Gwinn Davis.

~*~

As I said yesterday, I missed the anti-Bush demonstration at Furman. Some excerpts from the commencement speech, in which Bush cutsified it up:

I am proud to be joined by my friend and an outstanding leader of South Carolina: Governor Mark Sanford, Class of 1983. Governor, I’m not going to ask if you ever got caught “swimming in the fountains.” Twenty-five years ago, the governor sat where you now sit – as a member of his graduating class. As it happens, the commencement speaker that year was my Dad. This means that some at Furman will have heard graduation speeches from two generations of Bushes. This is a great step forward for the Bush family, and a great step backward for your English Department.

My family has other ties with Furman. In the early 1930’s, a student named Willa Martin graduated from the women’s college that soon became part of Furman. Willa went on to marry my mother’s father. She also spent time as a columnist for the Associated Press, thus beginning the long history of warm relations between the Bush family and the media.

Ohhhh, she chortled, how cute is that? Meanwhile, as GWB jokes about bank accounts, some people won't be going to college, ever. That has never concerned him.

And some people, soldiers in particular, won't even be coming back home. Sparse mention of that in the text.

It's probably best that Blueblood Bush stays behind the gates of the expensive, private schools; a public school commencement audience might try to roast his sorry ass on a BBQ-spit.

Apologies for my lack of churchly sentiments this sabbath. Even Jesus got mad when the situation called for it.

If you pray, pray for our troops.

~*~

Bob Dylan - Masters of War

[via FoxyTunes / Bob Dylan]

Dead Air Church - Early Primary Edition

Left: St Teresa of Avila, from carmelite.com


Spiritual text for today:

Let us look at our own shortcomings and leave other people's alone; for those who live carefully ordered lives are apt to be shocked at everything and we might well learn very important lessons from the persons who shock us. Our outward comportment and behaviour may be better than theirs, but this, though good, is not the most important thing: there is no reason why we should expect everyone else to travel by our own road, and we should not attempt to point them to the spiritual path when perhaps we do not know what it is. Even with these desires that God gives us to help others, sisters, we may make many mistakes, and thus it is better to attempt to do what our Rule tells us -- to try to live ever in silence and in hope, and the Lord will take care of His own. If, when we beseech this of His Majesty, we do not become negligent ourselves, we shall be able, with His help, to be of great profit to them. May He be for ever blessed.

St Teresa of Avila, Interior Castle

~*~

Hymn for today:

Bob Dylan - It's Alright Ma (I'm Only Bleeding)

[via FoxyTunes / Bob Dylan]

~*~

From Vanessa:

I'm Not Gonna Pay A Lot For This Dead Air.

Enter a word for your own slogan:

Generated by the Advertising Slogan Generator, for all your slogan needs. Get more Dead Air slogans.

I figured that is just right for Dead Air Church, where we have NO collection plate!

Have a great Epiphany!

Former executioners sue SC prison officials

Left: Execution photograph from The Black Sentinel

Bob Dylan said, "The executioner's face is always well-hidden."

Well, not this time. They are coming forward to say, enough. And God bless them for it.


Former executioners sue prison officials

2 claim they lacked training, were forced to perform job

By Tim Smith
STAFF WRITER, Greenville News
December 20, 2007

COLUMBIA -- Two former state executioners have filed federal lawsuits against the prison system’s top officials, alleging the executioners weren’t trained and were forced to execute inmates or lose their jobs and rank as majors.

Terry Bracey and Ira Craig Baxley, who both worked for the prison system for more than 20 years, filed suits against Jon Ozmint, director of the state’s prison system, and Robert Ward, director of operations for the agency.

Both executioners retired from the department on disability and have pending workers’ compensation claims against the agency, according to their attorney, Lewis Cromer, a Columbia lawyer who has represented government whistleblowers.

A spokesman for the prison system said he was aware of the lawsuits. "Anyone can file a lawsuit filled with false allegations," spokesman Josh Gelinas said. "Some lawyers will file them and send out a press release announcing it."

Maybe, but not just anyone is an executioner.

The lawsuits themselves are difficult reading.

The suits paint a gruesome picture of executions in the state and allege "accidental malfunctions of death apparatus." Most of the executions in the state over the past decade have been by lethal injection, but at least one was done using the electric chair, according to the suits.

Both men alleged they were forced to act as executioner "against their will" although they said the agency labeled the job as voluntary.

Neither man was trained or prepared for using the electric chair, the suits allege, "with its shocking smell and scene of agony."

And neither man was offered counseling, the suits allege.

"Although these executions were barbaric, gruesome and repulsive to the plaintiff, he continued to perform them under the implied threat by the defendant Ward that such service was necessary if he was to continue to act as team leader and to receive the salary supplement and other benefits of his major’s position," Baxley’s suit alleges.

Baxley killed eight inmates as executioner, according to his suit, and participated in two other executions.

Baxley’s suit alleges that in one execution the "plaintiff was exposed to poison, blood and a horrible death scene where the lethal syringe came out of the inmate’s arm during the execution."

Baxley alleged that some executions were carried out in which he alone did the executions.

Bracey alleged that he was identified as the executioner, though their identities weren’t supposed to be made known.

A third executioner who didn’t wish to do the job voluntarily later committed suicide, the suits allege.

Bracey alleged in his suit that the executioners’ treatment by Ozmint and Ward constituted "emotional distress and treatment so severe that no reasonable person should be required to endure it."

One wonders if this could be the beginning of a trend? Will this finally be the abolition of the death penalty?

Baxley sent an email to Ozmint voicing concerns about being forced to be an executioner, the lawsuit alleges.

"Ozmint responded that if he did not like it, he could transfer (losing his position and supplement) and additionally if he was being treated badly by (the worker), he could do something else," the suit alleges.

Baxley alleges Ward and Ozmint "began a ruthless and unrelenting campaign of retaliation, harassments, threats and criticisms ultimately and proximately resulting in the plaintiff’s physical and emotional collapse."

Baxley is seeking $1 million in damages, and Bracey is seeking $5 million.

PDF file: Ira Baxley's lawsuit

PDF file: Terry Bracey's lawsuit

Godspeed, gentlemen. Sue their asses off.

----------------
Listening to: Nina Simone - I Shall Be Released
via FoxyTunes

My Christmas Present

How do you like it? I just got it about an hour ago, so pardon the raw appearance!

~*~

My Christmas present is a tattoo, my fourth. It is an Om (also called Aum) symbol, as popularly written in Devanāgarī. An Om/Aum means many things. It is recognized in Hinduism (as well as the Eastern religions that branched off from it), as the all-encompassing, the All-One. It is a sign of the Infinite, of all that is.

Of which I am a very small part, and that's a good thing to keep in mind.

My purpose in getting this tattoo is to have an actual physical reminder of that fact, so that I won't forget the nature of the Infinite and instead place myself at the center of the universe. Which is one of those things I like to do.

As Bob Dylan said, it's life and life only.

----------------
Listening to: The Pretenders - Tattooed Love Boys
via FoxyTunes

Veterans Day

MASTERS OF WAR

Come you masters of war
You that build all the guns
You that build the death planes
You that build the big bombs
You that hide behind walls
You that hide behind desks
I just want you to know
I can see through your masks

You that never done nothin'
But build to destroy
You play with my world
Like it's your little toy
You put a gun in my hand
And you hide from my eyes
And you turn and run farther
When the fast bullets fly

Like Judas of old
You lie and deceive
A world war can be won
You want me to believe
But I see through your eyes
And I see through your brain
Like I see through the water
That runs down my drain

You fasten the triggers
For the others to fire
Then you set back and watch
When the death count gets higher
You hide in your mansion
As young people's blood
Flows out of their bodies
And is buried in the mud

You've thrown the worst fear
That can ever be hurled
Fear to bring children
Into the world
For threatening my baby
Unborn and unnamed
You ain't worth the blood
That runs in your veins

How much do I know
To talk out of turn
You might say that I'm young
You might say I'm unlearned
But there's one thing I know
Though I'm younger than you
Even Jesus would never
Forgive what you do

Let me ask you one question
Is your money that good
Will it buy you forgiveness
Do you think that it could
I think you will find
When your death takes its toll
All the money you made
Will never buy back your soul

And I hope that you die
And your death'll come soon
I will follow your casket
In the pale afternoon
And I'll watch while you're lowered
Down to your deathbed
And I'll stand o'er your grave
'Til I'm sure that you're dead

Bob Dylan


Copyright © 1963; renewed 1991 Special Rider Music