Wednesday, September 29, 2004

Just Blanch Me

I have been reading about DEATH BY BOILING which is another very unpleasant way to die. All writing in the subject is purely speculative, but accurate I am willing to bet. Some forms of death have a slim margin of reversibility and then we find out, are not so freezing to death is supposedly warm and cozy. So say those who have been dragged back from the brink. I doubt there is a drag-back-fromable brink with Boiling.

By all notional accounts, death by boiling is also warm but not exactly cozy. Not so surprising, death by boiling is not an invention of cannibalistic societies, though cultural imagery may lead us to think so. For a cannibals intents and purposes boiling your victim alive presents more then a few challenges and in general, makes for a lousy stew. For one, adequate cooking pots are hard to come by. Also, large cuts of meat are best prepared roasted or baked. Large cuts of meat that are still kicking and screaming cannot be safely prepared for consumption, and are apt to excrete waste into the broth...or the abdominal cavity might burst. Its just so problematic!

The first accounts of Death By Boiling come from China, then later, from Japan where boiling was used as a method of executing prisoners...spies and the like. There are sporadic accounts of Death By Boiling from India and North Asia as a means of religious persecution. And of course the Romans dunked a few early Christians now and again. Oh how they hated those Christians.

In 1531, under the Reign of Henry VIII Death By Boiling was approved as a method of execution and there are records of people surviving for up to two hours before they finally died. UGH, imagine that.

Often times the victims were boiled in oil, perhaps because the higher boiling temperature ensured a more painful death, perhaps because water inconveniently evaporates so damn fast...I am always burning pots when I want to boil water for tea.

Anyway, I like to imagine that there is a mechanism in the body that refuses to acknowledge pain after a certain point, like maybe your mind just kicks off into astral projection and your consciousness can traipse around daisy fields with fuzzy kittens while your body expires. History is so brutally violent, and full of stories about people enduring unimaginable pain and suffering. I feel like I carry that legacy in my bones, in every cell of my body.

Tuesday, September 28, 2004

Just Aching

Tomorrow is the first day of school, the first day of my SLIP program and BOY ARE MY FEET COLD.

But, yet, I am rapturous and bouncy burstintosong happy, un-mutherfuckin-stoppable.

The Marathon is only five days away and my knee is definitely still killed, like it was aching for the last 43 miles of the 62 mile ride so I threw a tantrum and misbehaved, came home got drunk with Kate, cried. Cried and cried, spent 4:27 inconsolable minutes crying.

...This morning was dismayed to find that my problems weren't solved by outburst so I went and bought a knee brace...a better brace, a knee fortress, arnica gel, homeopathic arnica pellets, a bio-magnet, IcyHot...

I took Ned around with me running errands and shared my yogurt pretzels and hippie pizza with him. He came over this afternoon and gave me a Fuel Belt which made me feel like a real jerk cause when I was throwing my tantrum yesterday (mostly in my head) I was about to disown him for telling boring stories and using delicate oaths like GOLLY GOSH DARN.

Later Sam dragged me out for Thai food, told me stories and insisted that I needed sharp new pencils and pee-chee folders for school.

I don't, really, but once I saw those old pee-chee athletes still running for a touchdown, heading for the finish line, shooting the winning basket (still in the short.shorts and knee.socks) I couldn't resist... and for good measure I got a couple more folders with glittery hearts and rainbows and kittens and butterflies for the millions of handouts I expect to be handed out to me all through the Interpreter Program even though American Sign Language doesn't have a written form.

She also bought me a book called ChiRunning ChiRunning combines the inner focus and flow of T’ai Chi with the power and energy of running to create a revolutionary running form and philosophy that takes the pounding, pain, and potential damage out of the sport of running. Stellar!

Its perfect autumn, warmcool and the sunlight is just monochromatic enough to make me feel all cozy and familiar. As I write this I have a lap full of kitten and need to be in bed by now cause its a school night and I have to be up at 7am.

Saturday, September 25, 2004

Pray for that ole bum knee...

Really, this time...

Leaving for the Peach of a Century ride in Salem. This really is the last ride of the summer. But I am toning it down so close to the marathon, only doing the metric century course...62 miles.

You're Out

What am I listening to? Not Rilo Kiley. Again.

For the third time in a year I was too late, or sold out or both.

Friday, September 24, 2004

You'll Find Me Under All The Clutter

Rilo Kiley is playing tonight at Nocturnal...if I can get out of work in time. I am obnoxiously excited!!

Major upheavals, like thinking about moving, becoming a morning person, balancing my budget...

I already gave ten pairs of shoes and 483 pounds of clothes to Goodwill without seeming to making a dent, but I have actually made visible progress on my second desk! I can see the desk top which I has been buried since about ten minutes after I moved it into my living room back in April.

Wednesday, September 22, 2004


There is more to life then anticlimactic anecdotes about stolen cars. When it happens to you I will tell you my story all over again.

Bird flew back Thailand this morning. Too much time together is never enough when you are moving 13 hours into the future. Beer is staying for another three weeks tying loose ends into tidy knots.

Its high traffic here. I put out cat food and big bowls of pasta and zucchini bread and hot peppers, leave the door unlocked. I have kitties and displaced people lounging all over my furniture.

I have rarely been happier then I am now. I am totally Teflon coated euphoria, crank-proofed. I am on the verge of everything.

But its not like I am not heartbroken with good-byes and cold-feet and poverty and the bum-knee.


We took Beer to Saylers, home of the 72 oz. Top Sirloin Steak ($50) and if you can finish it in less then an hour it is free. She tried, she did. She would have been only the 9th woman ever to finish.

-72 oz steak
-1 small bowl of fresh vegetables
-1 side salad
-1 slice of bread
-1 cup of coffee, tea or milk
-10 French fries
-1 onion ring
-1 bowl of ice cream
-60 minutes

She finished everything but 16 oz of steak, including a second bowl of ice cream, a second cup of coffee and two bottles of Heinz 57 sauce. But she couldn't chew steak anymore, her jaw wanted to cramp up and her arm fell off.




Two years ago I got my mother a couple Giant Madagascan Hissing Cockroaches for Christmas. She has become rather attached to them, tending to their terrerium with great care, providing them with fresh fruits and vegetables, noting their moods, likes and dislikes. I swear she has more pictures of those roaches then there are baby picture of me in the family album.

She called me this afternoon bereft, having returned from two weeks camping in the Great Basin to find the baby of the threesome lifeless in the sawdust.

Ha'penny, dearly departed will be laying in state for a period of mourning.


It seems like changes are descending on everyone I know like hurricanes. Like one week you are filing paperwork for a extention and buying a new powerwasher in the high desert and the next week you have sold your business and your vehicle fleet and live 300 miles away in student housing studying photography as art.

And you drop in for a polite visit, make sparks, move in for two years like it wont mean the end of something meaningful if you finally finish that four year degree after 12 years.

And you come back from the brink of oblivion shooting guns in New Mexico to a quiet and peaceful home, piles of books, knitted scarves......

In no time at all.

Tuesday, September 21, 2004

Car Back

I got a call from the Portland Police Bureau today saying they found the car. Kate drove me out to the tow yard where I retrieved the vehicle for the lowlow price of $110 buckys. They left me some tools, I guess to compensate me for the inconvenience.

My New Bolt-cutter Set

They were unsuccessful at lifting the stereo so they took the face plate. I cant imagine why they would take the face plate except to be spiteful. And that is the only thing that makes me mad, really... I am the one being stolen from here. Don't take it out on me if you get frustrated while ripping me off.


I mean, I am pretty understanding you know. Yes, I feel violated. But I don't wish you ill. Whatever. Cocksucker.

I'm gonna go cut some bolts or something.

Sunday, September 19, 2004

Whats the Message?

Being the owner of a newly-stolen vehicle gives me a blank check to misbehave and I am gonna to get all the mileage out of it that I can.




I got up this morning at 7am, an ungodly hour, and made my way downtown to volunteer for the Kerry booth at the Race For The Cure. It was fun because its one of those times that it is totally appropriate to make boob jokes into a microphone for a crowd of 37,000 people. Not that I was anywhere near a microphone, but people were thanking me profusely and slapping stickers all over themselves.

There was one little boy, about 9 years old who asked for a sticker then, to my amazement, began violently attacking the sticker and flung it to the ground and hissed KERRY IS THE DEVIL. I burst out laughing cause, as it turns out, stickers dont make good dramatic props. Anyway, the kid ran off back to his cloven-hoofed mother somewhere in the crowd.


W Stands for Women

Log It or Lose It

Log It or Lose It!

Whats The Hell Is Wrong With Yous AnyWays

Saturday, September 18, 2004


Finally got ahold of my Dad and am waiting for him to call me back with the VIN number and license plate number and all the essential information I didn't have so I couldn't even do anything about it. I hate that feeling.

And at least he has my car which isn't the same as a well worn and trusty truck that is all paid off and even though I am gonna still be paying off my car for the next eleventy-hundred years the biggest relief is that I can refuse to take my car back until the truck is found. If it is found.

While I don't necessarily believe in Karma in that way like if I kick you in the shins my shins shall be kicked before the day is out and boy will I be sorry then, this does remind me that I haven't done any good deeds lately, thinking good thoughts notwithstanding.

I do hope to reap untold riches of good Karma in my next life though so I better step to.

And anyway, I have been suffering a fair bit of anxiety and cognitive dissonance cause I am first-of-all a cyclist and progressive minded young lady who drives way more then she would like acknowledge. Just what I needed is enough room to rearrange my approach without having those keys laying there so conveniently.

But I would like to say Fuck You to the mean bitchy bitch operator at the Portland Police Bureau. You can kiss my ass and I would kick you in the shins with my bike cleats for your sass mouth even if it means my shins shall too be kicked.

Seasons Change

It is fall, suddenly and unapologetically. Last week was sunglasses slipping down the bridge of my nose, sweaty and gritty sandy skin out at the river, lying with our heads close together planning summer for the rest of our lives. The rapidity of change is disconcerting. No courtship between summer and fall, no eye-making, hand-holding, nerve-wracking pretext to segway into one another. I cant believe it ever was summer.

But now the fortress of 482 pound books next to my bed is growing exponentially which is as sure an indicator of the coming winter as leaves falling. It takes a conscious perceptual shift to enjoy the winters here. Most people just survive, damp with droopy eyelids and deep sighs. Interestingly, Portland is ranked #6 as one of the most stressful cities in a study among whose 9 criteria includes a listing for 'cloudy days'.

Seasonal Affective Disorder

So yeah, the skies are back to moody and its not a thousand degrees anymore. But you know how I love my moody skies... a black tumultuous notquiteraining sky has the power to smooth and soften the edges of emotions too big and sharp to contain...and the power of depth perception when the landscape becomes too flat to arouse any passion.

Black skies


Decided I needed to go do laundry in a bad way. New kitten = laundry crisis and I have 93 pounds of bedding to do as well as every piece of clothing I own. Have no soap, need vinegar to clean cat pee off my mattress... need to go to the store.

it's gone.

Its not even my fucking vehicle. After last weekends ride I traded my car for my Dads Pathfinder so he can work on the car for me. Now its not his either.


Not finished with this post just yet.

Wednesday, September 15, 2004

Ice is a Girl's Best Friend

Man, I am so mad at myself right now, sitting here with my knee all bound up tight and unbendable thinking what the hell were you thinking and unable to answer.

It is two and a half weeks till the marathon and a simple ache has turned into an injury cause I don't know when to stop, pack it in and go home. Live to run another day.

It hurts so bad. I need some super healing power.


Confession. I never use apostrophes and am lousy with ie combinations.

Tuesday, September 14, 2004

Hood To Coast Weekend

So maybe I will try to write about it again.


Maybe just the highlights, like how Anita and I nested in the backest back seat of the van with our shoes and snacks and warmups and towels, watching the runners through the windows we'd painted and the ribbons we strung onto the rack.

And how we ran the 4th and 5th legs, and then the 16th and 17th legs in the middle of the freezing night totally overdressed after one of our runners from the second van got lost in Portland and ended up on the wrong side of the river putting our team two hours behind our projected finish time and ruining us for sleep...

...but then, 30 hours into the race I ran my fastest time on the 28th leg and passed the relay bracelet off to Anita for the 29th leg and she just flew up the steepest hills of the course like she had winged feet.

I left my running shoes on someone's floor when we took an ill-advised detour to sleep while the second van ran but we only got an hour of rest and I had to borrow shoes. How could I leave my shoes behind?

I am not so sure about the rest of the team. There wasn't a whole lot of common ground, we just didn't really get each other but we got along just fine. I was humming Chariots of Fire to myself as I ran and gave myself goosebumps (which is an odd sensation when you body is overheating) and so I had to stop and started singing Eye of the Tiger instead but when I tried to tell the van girls about it they just looked at me like they didn't speak my language. And in a way, I don't think they do. But they were very nice.


When we arrived in Seaside the ceremony on the beach was well underway. Runners and drinkers and all sort of celebrants on hotel balconies, announcers and photographers all milling around, wearing finisher medals and grinning silly and proud.

Anita and I took our finisher medals down to the water and got the cuffs of our pants wet then we limped back to the tents. We left for Portland that night still riding in the back, in the dark, in the now empty van whispering about my brother John, about school, told stories, became friends.

She really is a super cool kid. One of the best.
Haloscan commenting and trackback have been added to this blog.

Man, I lost all my comments. Someone say something.

Sunday, September 12, 2004


Oregon Coast

One hundred miles by bicycle over the coastal range of Southern Oregon. You can hear only pounding surf and dripping water. It never actually rained but was soaking wet just the same. Like liquid air it collects on the leaves and falls only then in a formed droplet to the earth. Thick wet mist, fog curling up the side of the cliff face, seeping out of the trees, hanging suspended in the air.

Rogue River

The route first headed north and a little bit inland, over the Rogue River, past grazing deer, a furious rural lap dog on churning legs that made me laugh outloud till my bike wobbled, a couple wild turkeys and an obnoxiously pungent field of wild dill that about knocked me over...

...then back south past Gold Beach up, up, up, up and around every winding curve you find still more up to the top of Cape Sebastian. And 42 m.p.h. down the backside. But I sat there for too long and no body came along and finally I headed back up the prodigious hill till about a mile into the ascent a cyclist came flying past me yelling YOUR DAD HAS and the next one flew by A FLAT. HE'S AT THE and the last one TOP FIXING IT. So I waited there till he came along.

Right at the foot of Cape Sebastian the weather dried out, the sun even came out for a few minutes and it stayed temperate for the next 35+ mile stretch alongside the ocean, till about 70 miles when the route turned inland again for another super-colossal humongo behemoth ascent that made me question my priorities.

Here the thick mist rolled back in and though we were more inland we were really just on a higher road, one above the one above the cliffs that we were just on so the surf still pounded and the air got wetter then ever. It was like a joke about Oregon. But it was perfect and I wouldn't have changed one thing except maybe I would have worn those geeky little cyclist boots. Man, I woulda liked some 'a those.

Hot shower, spaghetti feed, sunset on the beach, a walk with my dog who has been living with my Dad and looks like a beaching whale in the surf and really she is just an old overweight dog fetching sticks. Man is she a blimp these days.

And through the redwoods back home.

So ends the summer season of cycling. Sigh.

Friday, September 10, 2004

High Speed Chase

Bastard! Blogger just erased a whole post I wrote... it went something like this...

Went running after work. 1130pm. Cop pulls car over. Car peals out. Cops in hot pursuit. Cruisers everywhere. Car hits Max lightrail train, spins around, comes to a stop. Cops enthusiastically box unmoving car in by smashing into unmoving car and each other. Noted one even went through a school yard fence and came to a stop on a baseball feild. No one hurt, kid arrested.

Writer ruminates on method of criminal apprehension. Concludes with a final impression that incident is like rodeo days for adrenaline whooped yahoos.

Glad I wore my reflective vest. Mad at Blogger.

Another Century

Leaving for Gold Beach tomorrow morning for the Oregon Coast Cycling Festival. 100 miles in the rain and wind, I am guessing. Who knows? It could be perfect weather. September can be so beautiful.

Dear Casey,
I left out food and water for my cat Moxie even though he has been gone for more then a month now. And I told myself that when the water in the bowl dried up I was going to put it away...give away all the cat food and kitty toys. Tonight there was like one last drop of slimy water on the bottom of the bowl and an orange striped little kitty with a pretty face just wandered in and pranced down my hallway to the food bowl. He seems a little skittish but once I petted him he went nuts for affection and crawled into my lap and shoved his head under my chin and up on my chest.

there you are with your knee high boots all crumpled down on the floor with the dust bunnies and stray cats and flea bites, but I filled the water bowl again and left the food out. I have always been a stray cat kinda girl.

And later the kitty came back with three more in tow. When you invite a whimsical notion into your life don't be surprised if four come pouncing and prowling through your door. What can you do but offer up your hospitality?

I am keeping the yellow kitty, I already asked. On Sunday when I get home he is moving in.

I have had people dropping in and staying late into the night for all this week. Talking loud with mouths full of chocolate and laps full of kitten. Come over, everyone is welcome.

Wednesday, September 08, 2004


Today I woke up with the illusion that I was the last person on earth but I was forced to reconsider when the mailman began stuffing junkmail down the chute. He always mangles my Safeway Fliers.

Maybe there are two of us.

Last night Beer and her sister Bird came over to tell me they had made the decision to go back to Thailand after a particularly unjust incident at work. Five years of working in Thai restaurants in the United States and she says Thai people in this country are awful to each other, and everyday enduring just enough to not quite be ready to leave. But now I couldn't convince her otherwise and she started crying and I started crying and I feel like I am loosing a friend, like she is mini-dying cause there is a finality to moving to Thailand that isn't quite like moving to Alaska, or Georgia. BUT COME TO THAILAND AND YOU WILL BE LIKE A QUEEN, NO REALLY, YOU CAN COME LIVE WITH ME AND EAT WITH ME AND IT WILL BE SO NICE, I WILL SHOW YOU EVERYTHING.

Barefoot BBQ

Labor Day. Thank you Laborers, to you this day of rest.

Above the time clock Boos tacked up a note to say all staff must come, All U Can Eat BBQ, an American phrase he picked up along the way. And just to be contrary I felt like saying NO, but curiosity got the better of me. Pim gripped my arm and said LETS GO FOR JUST A LITTLE WHILE PLEEESE cause they are lovers and she doesn't want to go, but cant not go and play with his daughters and see his wife cooking in their kitchen. I don't know how she can do it.

So we took his older daughter, age 5, to the park and slid on our bellies and climbed the wrong way up the slide and I taught her to think like a rock so that no matter how hard I tried I
couldn't lift her end of the teeter-totter till I taught her to think like a feather.

The Thai language sounds impossibly complex to me. A would-be linguist, I don't even understand the technical complexities of my own language. It brings on an Existential weakness
in the knees to think about all the things I don't know, don't understand.

My life is vividly lacking in sweetness lately and though I fancy that my spiritual path lies on Ferris wheels and in berry patches there is nary a whimsical notion on the horizon. I WANNA BE IN GODS COUNTRY.

Boiling Frog

Interestingly enough, I was reading all about the use of boiling oil as a method of execution and came across this entry in Wikipedia.

I dont just make this stuff up.

Monday, September 06, 2004

Shrill Blog

What kind of planning and foresight went into the invasion of Iraq?
Only the best and brightest minds you can bet.

Sunday, September 05, 2004

Doppler Effect

I've been a total ingrate for like, two weeks now. Sulking around with a sour puss, a threat to drivers and pedestrians, barely preventing inappropriate thoughts from becoming very inappropriate wise-cracks.

But really I am the luckiest person in the whole world and I lead a blessed life and I can't even keep up with the Thank You's I owe that are piling up on my desk and spilling onto the floor.

Today Mark brought me pears all sweet and juicy and we played frisbee in the park. It's like summer but not summer and you can hear the race cars zooming on the track even from this far away. I am half perfect, and half spinning wobbling arcing disc that you have to chase across the park.

I keep having dreams about running, and the election. Night after night. I dreamed that George W. Bush and his wife Laura were training for a marathon too and I was having a hard time hating them, was developing a soft spot for them till Laura refused to run with the public, the common people...then I was very upset.

The Marathon is less then a month away. For perspective let me just say that this is the only Goal I have ever set for myself, ever. A Goal with a time frame and an executable plan that I have followed through on. I have never planned anything longer then a month out. Even registering for classes has always had more of a resemblance to impulse catalogue shopping then the thoughtful pursuit of an objective.



Yeah, everyone's life unfolds on its own timeline and this is something I should have figured out a long time ago. But maybe now you can understand why this marathon is so important to me that it keeps me up nights.


I have been eating salted plums all day and my tongue is numb. My friend Piyada and I went to Pacific Grocery yesterday and she explained all the weird cans of grass jelly and dried grasshoppers and bubble tea, stinky fruit, gelled coconut in syrup....
Anyway, these plums are concentrated sweet and salty and are simultaneously revolting and totally addictive. Thai people use sugar and salt together a lot, and not like we do, to like, balance out the acidity of a tangy tomatoe sauce for example...

And I got a case of m-150 which is the original energy drink that Red Bull stole its recipe from, even though I keep saying I am going to quit drinking caffeine.

When I was bartending 10 hour shifts I used to drink like, four, sometimes five Red Bulls in the course of the night. Its like downshifting to third on the freeway, feel the power. I was never very good at moderation.

Friday, September 03, 2004

Best News I've Heard All Year

Home bound

My brother John is coming home. He is sitting in some outpost waiting to be de-activated. His year in Egypt pushed him over the limit for the amount of time he can spend on active duty within a certain period of time. They should have figured this out before he was sent to train in Texas. They shouldn'ta let him get this far in the first place. They issued a Stop-Loss to prevent his contract from expiring one month after he would have arrived in Iraq but I guess it just wasn't meant to be.

Its akward and confusing. He is having a hard time with survivor guilt and loyalty to his guys. He is their combat medic and was about to be promoted. He considered volunteering for active duty, a year or more in Iraq.

This came up a few weeks ago and I didn't say anything cause I wont believe it till the coals are ready on the BBQ. Then they took it away, said he was going, and I was glad I kept my mouth shut. Now he is coming home after all.

Wednesday, September 01, 2004

Bum Knee

September First always feels like September First. Something in the air, in the light.

I went out to run 10 miles, then felt so good thought I might try for 20 miles. I brought bus fare and just let myself wander. It felt like a dream about running. North Portland to Broadway to the East Bank Esplanade to the Washington Park reservoir to Forest Park. Unbearable pain in my right knee cut me short at 16 miles in otherwise perfect health and repair.

My horoscope says God will not laugh if I tell Him my plans... and that He is currently very receptive to my schemes.


Faith In Mankind

Is extinction such a bad option? Are we really so afraid of death? We are all going to die in case any one of you should forget. How much do we have to endure before conditions scare the shit out of us collectively, cause they already scare the shit outta me. This is the classic boiling frog scenario. If you drop a frog into a pot of boiling water it will do everything in its power to get the hell out of the pot but if you put a frog in a cool pot of water on a low heat it will be stupified by the time the temperature reaches boiling.

Everything has gone to shit. Don't you see this? Everything is a medical event. Everyone is depressed, and overweight and cannot for the life of them trace the cause/effect relationship much less dissect it into meaningful information. Birth is a pathology, male and female libidos can be regulated with pills now, we cant digest our food or drink our water. The forests are monoculture, the fish are farmed, icecaps melting, nonindigenous species are destroying delicate habitat, the Great Barrier Reef is disappearing, topsoil is so over-cultivated with non-rotated crops that there is no nutritional value in our foods...

And I am so disgusted by self-interest I cant even crack a smile these days. What a foul species we are. Cheap people make me feel queasy, greed makes me feel out-right nauseous, and while poverty makes me feel anxious (its true cause I am a poor sap) I wouldn't trade it for the delirium of wealth, not in this day and age. I wish there were stronger words.

If we truly want to clean up the political process we need to improve on two points. Only two.

1. Conflict Of Interest- Vigilance on this simple principle would clean almost all the filth out of the game.

2. Logical Fallacies - Good lord, if we don't start teaching ourselves how to recognize fallacious reasoning we have no chance. There is so much debate out there that sure, sounds good on the surface, but when approached academically, thoughtfully and logically (which is your fucking duty in a democracy you fucking boogans) often falls apart.

I wish this didn't get complicated here. But listen, your access to information and the world of ideas is unprecedented. Don't let this be pearls before swine. What you can learn right here on the internet is limited only by your imagination and your ability to qualify the information in regards to its source.

For example, you might not necessarily take for gospel the Science of Forest Management from a Weyerhaeuser website.

What I am trying to sell you is a decoder ring, and I want you to take the time to read what seems to be a lugubrious treatise on abstract thought but in reality is the basic text on how to think.

For example, I have this dear friend who is given to fits of uninhibited vitriolic criticism of this administration, and though passionate and righteous, she is not only dead wrong, but is annoying and not doing her cause any justice when she says things like GEORGE BUSH OWNS ALL THOSE GODDAMNED COMPANIES ANYWAY (referring to Halliburton, Bechtel, Titan, Northrup Grumman, Lockheed Martin, Globecomm Systems, DynCorp, Carlyle Group ... etc.)

Emotionally she may be on the right track...You could generously consider her argument to be a loose acknowledgement of the Iron Triangle.


And Franklin Roosevelt said did during World War II, I DON'T WANT TO SEE A SINGLE WAR MILLIONAIRE CREATED IN THE UNITED STATES AS A RESULT OF THIS WORLD DISASTER. Oh man what would he have thought of this?***

However, (all asides aside) the biggest obstruction we face on these two points is our desperate and pathetic penchant to seek easy solutions to complex problems, in deadly combination with that American myth of individualism.

What am I trying to say? Why cant I put coherent thoughts together. Have you been wondering why my writing has been so cosmetic that I only write about the weather lately? I can't own up to how angry I am.

Anyway, I miss the hell outta Sam.

And when Anita saved me from a slug invasion (did I mention that slugs make me retch and cry?) I realized that I loved her like family.


Just a little kiss before I toss you into the bushes


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