Month: May 2011

  • a a a sharks 1 joe

    a a a sharks 1 tonight 

    The Daily News

    1  It's our time.

    2  Today all of San Jose should be wearing teal and black.

    3  Today the Sharks should step up to who they are, particularly with regards to this team that they owned earlier.

    4  Today the Sharks need to get huge and monstrous.

    5  Today the entire city needs to get behind our guys.

    6  Today the nonsense must come to an end.

    7  Today.

    8  There is no tomorrow. But the Sharks need to see that there is absolutely no tomorrow for the guys coming in to this nightmare, on our turf, in our town, in our Tank.

    9  Yesterday's gone.

    10 Today's the day the Sharks need to score early, and to score big.

    11 Today's the day the Sharks need to support Niemi's incredible efforts in Detroit the other night. Today Jumbo Joe has to step it up and lead.

    12 Today.

    13 The Sharks mustn't even let it cross their mindz that they will do anything but win.

    14 The physical game needs to execute, and they have to as one Olympic skater once told me, "go under". Then they have to tear it up.

    15  We're home.

    16 We have the odds, as well as the better team. We executed better, played faster, and outshot these fools for three games. We just need four. And tonight will be the fourth. Mark me.

    17 It's time.

    18 It's time for ALL of us to get BIG, Sannozay.

    19 Tonight.

    20  It's time.

    21 That is all.

    22  Smile big. This will be the meal of the century.

    23  Let's feast.

    24  It's our time.

    24  Peace.

    ~H~

    a a a cool guy 1

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  • Hey Marcel!

    a a a goofy 2 sled a a a hey marcel 2 a a a hey marcel 1  

    ATTENTION SAN JOSE SHARKS!!!

    LEARN COCKINESS AND CONFIDENCE FROM THE GIANTS!!! YOU ARE THE BETTER TEAM! GET BIG!!!

    The Daily News

    1   I didn't want to write about the Sharks today well, because.

    2   But I sat down last night to write the DN early and really couldn't think of anything worth a darned to write about. I didn't want to write about that tepid, ridiculous loss. But how do you change the subject? They sat by lethargically and let the Red Wings win.

    3    At first I thought about putting a picture of the Guinness Book of World Records Woman With the World's Biggest Breasts with a headline, "Hey, Marcel!" but decided against it once I googled it.

    4    I won't tell you much but I will say this: it was pretty darned scary.

    5    Evidently the largest are by some tugboat named Norma Stitz, which isn't her real name anyway. Her real name is Annie-Hawkins Turner, for the record.

    6   Fortunately for all of us, the DN is a family show, so I don't really want even to post her stuff. It brings the entire thing into the C-/D- area if you ask me. I decided that Goofy on a sled works WAY better, and is in keeping with the DN's incredibly moral standards of decency. Dammit. And the Sharks still own an idiotic loss. No spirit. Let one guy do all the work. I decided last night not to write about the Sharks. Self-fulfilling prophecy? Dudes. It works the other way too. Look to the Giants.

    7     Things were so bad last night that I actually went to Yahoo! to see what was "trending up." If you didn't want to talk sports today there were other things going on in the world. Yahoo! has a list of things "trending up".

    8    Here's their list:

          1.  Kate Gosselin

          2.  Chaz Bono

          3.   Lamar Odom

          4.   Whitney Houston

          5.   Commodities

          6.   Bin Laden's son

          7.   Maria Shriver

          8.   Royal honeymoon

          9.   401 (k)

          10. Tiger Woods    

    9     It isn't rocket science to see that there's not much worth talking about.

    10   I actually find that to be a really nice "problem", because honestly? No news, my friends is always going to be good news. Still, are ya KIDDIN' me?

    11   Kate Gosselin inches out Chaz Bono for number-one trend?

    12   Hmmm. I'll bet I scooped every other Daily in the nation on THAT one.

    13    Dude, clearly a WHOLE bunch of the world needs to get a life.

    14    I couldn't imagine ten more boringly pathetic topics. Are you guys kiddin' me here?  Whitney Houston? Where's Richard Simmons, or Richard Hatch for that matter? Yeesh. Screeching, scratching nails. Somebody save me.

    15    Hey, Marcel.

    16    Hmmm.

    17    Maybe I should goose my strategy a bit more.

    18    Or maybe talk about the Sharks after all.

    19    I watched the Giants' game last night while writing this folderol, and Duane Kuiper said this somewhere around the eighth inning: "Sharks' hockey.Torture."

    20    But as always, Darren Ford brought it all home. Posey walks, Ford gets put in and steals second so fast I thought the dirt sould catch fire, and then Ross singles down the line at third. Done. This enthusiasm triggered ME to go after the Goofy picture, and suddenly all's right with the world.

    21   But for goodness sakes.

    22   The Sharks need to wake up and realize they have outshot and outplayed these buffoons all the way up to the point they got 3-0.

    23    It becomes a jinx if you tell yourself it's a jinx. Any coach around knows this. It's mental. Period.

    24    So Sharkies, come home, pop in some DVD's of the Giants' heroic run this year. It definitely had an effect on your play not too long ago. Get big. Sharks' fans, show up downtown in droves of teal and black. Now's the time.

    25    Get huge and break these guys' idiotic belief that they are better. Control the puck and keep it on THEIR end, and keep slappin' shots at them. Get huge, and don't put up with any boushit.

    26    I'm not going to write about the Sharks today.

    27    I refuse.

    28    Let's do this.

    29     Peace.

    ~H~

    a a a cool guy 1

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  • a a a todd 1

     

     The Daily News

    1   So...my good friend Todd walks into a bar...

    2    Todd is our seventeen-year old cat who was awakening every night at around 2 or 3 a.m. howlingly noisy about wanting to drink water out of a faucet.

    3    We had suspected there might be more to his howling, but I thought either a toothache or perhaps thirst from potential diabetes. He passed a few tests last year, so we had no real reason to believe much was up, but last week he began bleeding from the mouth.

    4    We took him in the other day and everything seemed okay, but it really wasn't. Turns out that he had cancer, and  the doc said essentially that any surgery would probably be overly invasive.

    5   Translation: he's going to die.

    6    Yesterday morning during class I got a text from Caitlin telling me that he was at the docs and that it didn't look good...

    7    I won't go into a lot of it, but the next text said simply, "Todd is gone." There was more, but that sank my heart.

    8    It's funny, we complain about animals, but we also complain about friends, parents, and other family members sometimes, just for laughs.

    9    Todd has always awakened in the middle of he night to howl and yowl about gawd knows what, for years. He has cried wolf time and again, so after a while we would just abide, give him running water from a faucet (he always INSISTED on running water) and eventually everybody would get back to sleep.

    10  During the day you wouldn't hear a peep out of him. But at night he could awaken a sleeping giant, and even the Creator of the Universe, even if he/she were snoring. I heard the Creator himself threw a spiritual shoe at him, but it bounced harmlessly off is head. Caitlin is convinced that he is probably in heaven head-butting Jesus. 

    11   Anyway, he was a charming old lunk. He wasn't really a huge cuddler; rather he was a head-butter. If you were in his good graces, he would come over and bump heads, sort of like friends who wordlessly knock clenched fists to say, "Waddup, bro?"

    12   Pretty good old fellow, overall, and in terms of pets, probably one of the better ones. His main flaw was waking up the dead every single night of his life, and insisting that he have running water so that somebody has to get up to do that for him.

    13   Fortunately, our dog Phoebe ALSO would awaken, quite often at 4:20 in the morning, to go outside for a stint. When the two worked in tandem, it was fine, because you would be awake for one or the other anyway.

    14   When they would scatter, however, it would be doom to anybody remotely attempting to get a good night's sleep.

    15    He was more Caitlin's friend than everyone else's, and was there for her during some of her toughest times. But we all put up with him, and laughed at his antics.

    16    I'm going to turn an area of my yard into a memorial area for lost pets over the years. We've had a few, and each has had an enduringly goofy personality trait, as do most pets.

    17   And yet when they finally decide to leave us, is it any different than when any family member decides? In the midst of life we are in the midst of death, and a truer word was never said. That's either a direct quote by Thornton Wilder, or a paraphrase. I'm too lazy to check.

    18   I don't know. I woke up at 4:20 almost by design this morning and realized I hadn't yet written the DN. Yesterday was a pretty emotional day for my family, so we coped as any normal family would: we plied ourselves with unhealthy foods like steak and cheesecake, even though everything we had could conk any one of us into a sugar coma in a New York second.

    19   I guess that's the nature of these things. You don't know whether to laugh or cry, you call people, and then you cry, but then you laugh, and then you hug. I bought everyone cards that brought smiles and left them lying around. I walked outside and then back inside.

    20   In the midst of life.

    21   So maybe later today I'll figure out how to dedicate an area of my yard to a memorial. I actually turned an area of my yard into a meditation area last summer when I re-did the entire yard. It is a peaceful little area with a small statue of St. Francis overlooking it.

    22   St. Francis, ironically, is the patron saint of animals, and has always been my favorite saint. He wasn't fond of the commercialism of religion and preferred instead to live in the country with the real people, and to remove God from all of the corruption and filth of money and greed. He felt that the church needed to stay pure, and in so doing, could re-connect with God on a very real level.

    23   I'm not a super religious guy, as anyone knows, but I do have my very personal beliefs. I disdain the commercialism and corruption of many organized religions, but that's because of the man-made influences involving how money comes in, where it goes, the "rat-line" in World War II, the corruption of the Vatican, and lots of other things you don't need to go to far to discover.

    24   I'm not trying to offend, so please remain open-minded about those beliefs.There is far too much evidence of hypocrisy and greed out there, and I simply won't argue facts with people who won't listen. So I keep it inside.

    25   Spiritually I am in an entirely different direction. Too many miracles have happened in my life for me not to believe in a higher order. Too many amazing things and  good things have happened in my life as a result of prayer. Too many coincidences have followed me ridiculously for years.

    26   What it all is I have no idea. But my observations of spiritual things have duly noted occurrences that are beyond the realm of probability.

    27   That's my little diatribe. I do that every now and again because I can only believe in what is empirical. I have told people time and again about the ridiculous amounts of coincidences that occur in my life on a daily basis. I'm reasonably certain that they happen to everyone, but to this minute I'm not so sure that it is as constant as it is in my own life. I'm not sure, because I've met few people who have this as a life pattern, or at least who notice it.

    28  People continually roll their eyes, or say, "That happens to everyone." Uh...not so sure. Seriously. If it does, then people should start paying attention to these occurrences.

    29   I'm running this train off the track, so I think I'll put it back and roll out of here today.

    30   When a pet like Todd decides unexpectedly to leave us on a moment's notice, we aren't always going to behave logically or normally. When my Mom passed a couple of years ago, my entire family went loopy for a couple of weeks. I would fall down for no reason, put milk in the cupboard, and walk into rooms with no real destination. We all did, so that is pretty normal at times like these.

    31   We have a teacher at school who called me last week because she wanted to arrange a meeting this Thursday, and she had TWO people die on her within three weeks. She talked about the same things. Out of sorts stuff.

    32   I never thought that old duffer Todd would be able to create stuff like this, but dude, you done it. I misspelled around four or five words in yesterday's DN, so something was certainly up.

    33   Okay, I guess that's my rant on a lost friend. It is as all over the place as my head is right now. I'll screw it on a bit more carefully and get back in no time.

    34    Duty dictates.

    35    You have a great day. Look to the sky and give my little pal a thought today. My family is suffering, even though he's just a cat.

    35   He was our cat. And he really did rock.

    36   We'll miss you old guy.

    37   Peace.

    ~H~

    a a a cool guy 1

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  •  

    a a a pop up 1 scary chick

    a a a uncle albert 1 a a a pie day 1 a a a faux pas 1 shcool

     
    gaffe (găf) n. a social blunder; a faux pas.
     
    Yeesh. I sat at school today and thought about the word "vacuum" and thought that I had misspelled it not once, but TWICE on today's DN.  I decided to give it a once over since sometimes I'm writing the thing when exhausted.  I came upon a staggering FOUR gaffes today!  I catch the stuff usually, because at three in the morning I'm often allowing my fingers to do the walking. The other night I spelled "aloud" "allowed" (almost used the wrong one but caught it) due to the hour of the night. Here are the FOUR gaffes from today's. Gawd 'elp me!
     
    15   embroidery (gaffe: embroidory. Seriously dude.)
     
    17    fiery. (gaffe: firey. Okay, easier to understand but still stooooopit.)
     
    18    arguably. (gaffe: aruably. Obviously I know there's a "g" after the ar.)
     
    34    vacuum. (DOUBLE gaffe: vaccum. I wonder how many times I've done THAT one.)
     
    35    vacuum. (gaffe: see above, # 34.)
     
    I'm hoping my middle-of-the night non-editing hasn't throne mispelings anyware esle.
     
    Had to make this right.
     
    Cheers!
     
    ~H~
     
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  •       

    a a a einstein 2 stamp

    "When a man sits with a pretty girl for an hour, it seems like a minute. But let him sit on a hot stove for a minute and it's longer than any hour. That's relativity."

    ---Albert Einstein

    The Daily News

    1   Albert, well said; that one was laid on with a trowel.

    2   So it wasn't my imagination on Friday. Time has been flying by at a ridiculous rate lately.

    3   Relativity rears its amazing head.

    4   Well, as they say: time flies like an arrow; fruit flies like a banana.

    5   Friday flew because of my own design, which is to say, converting my classroom into the newly immortal Café Verona. My students did poetry readings with awesomeness, enthusiasm, Miles Davis, and Frank Sinatra.

    6    Absolutely wonderful, followed by a wonderful afternoon and evening.

    7    Saturday flew by so fast I couldn't tell you what I did.

    8     Actually, I can. I waited a while for Caitlin to get into town from Sac, but after eleven I decided to go to the Flea Market so that I could walk briskly for a couple of hours while searching for that one amazing treasure.

    9     It worked, actually. I hadn't been to the Flea Market in years. I thought of some talk show moron declaring that the only thing San Jose has is the Winchester Mystery House.

    10   There's some Marin/Burlingame snob who is clueless.

    11   After years of survival, the Flea Market worked for me. It is SO funky that it becomes almost like a strange sort of world marketplace. The second I went in the west entrance, the smell of hot churros hit me right in the nose. Within seconds I got hit with a curious breeze spinning with the subleties of corn dogs and smokin'  barbecue chicken.

    12   Within seconds the entire Flea Market persona drew me in, with all of its funk and simplistic world marketplace charm.

    13    I walked straight in, looking at flower stands, sock stands, and household items' stands, when I finally looked up and saw this counter with Elmo holding a sign that said, "Caca for Sale".  Only in America. And REALLY only in Sannozay. Right next to Elmo stood about nine or ten ceramic dog poops, with the proprietor smiling behind them. The guy was a perfect cross between The Joker and Dick Van Dyke.

    IMG_0431

    15  It was a great start.  I walked up and down the aisles and the exoticly odd array of foods, merchants, and different things lifted me. I stopped at a hat stand and they had an embroidery machine working on a hat. I looked across and saw flags of the world snapping in the light winds.

    16   My original intention was to walk for about an hour, look for a cheap microphone, and head home. I had left my mic at the school, and I thought Caitlin might want to sing later in the eve.

    17   The smells of barbecued chicken sizzling over smoky fires and of fresh fruits and vegetables surrounding me on all sides caused my nose some welcome dear perfection, and my tummy a tantalizing temptation:  I walked straight to the fiery barbecue and just as rapidly moved into the barbecue stand completely prepared to eat half a chicken.

    IMG_0445

    18   "Can I help you?" came a voice from behind the counter. I looked up and saw about four or five people in a smoky barbecue haze.

    19   I said to the figures in the haze, "Just looking." That always works at the flea market. No real hustling, you're just looking, then have fun.

    20   I loved it in all its earthiness and unpretentiousness. The Flea Market is a real world where any moment you could turn the corner on a dime and find the spaghetti bowl of your dreams, or the most beautiful guitar in the world hidden  amidst all the garage stuff, cheap clothes, oils, trinkets, and amazing fruits and vegetables.

    21   Each aisle sent me reeling, because I hadn't been to the place in a while. What struck me was how simple it all was. No fancy rides. No overpriced foods. Just families enjoying a day at the arguably the strangest place in the world, but definitely exotic and fun. I used to go to the Flea Market when I was in high school for that very reason.

    22   My friends and I would ride up from Millbrae and San Bruno and search for underground records, illegal tapings of rock shows, and alternative music. Stupid white boy stuff. We were stupid white boys. Now we're stupid white men. Just as stupid.

    23   In many ways, the FM has kept it real, despite moving into warehouses of cheap toys and clothes' warehouses jobbing their stuff out to a bunch local vendors.

    24   Didn't matter. It still retains a lot of its funky appeal by the smells in the air and the music in the ears, as well as  the laughter of people walking around enjoying something that is clearly an acquired taste, but certainly a part of a lot of all things Sannozay.

    25   It's been rumored to be closing for the past four or five years, so I was glad to walk around and appreciate it. I thought of all the families who make a living working there who will be hurt when/if it ever closes. It wasn't a pleasant thought, because these are some of the most genuine workers around, many of whom now have generations who have lived and loved the place.

    26   I wound up buying a really cheap mic for twelve bucks. It worked fine, although we never got around to using it. I also bought three CD's for ten bucks from this guy who must have been out there since my own senior year in high school, which was when rocks were invented. He asked, "You want to give them a listen?" I said, "Nah, I'll just take them." I somehow knew that this guy would not have a scratched CD. He had been there far too long, and was clearly a guy who knew to sell clean, scratchless music. The guy had one card table and a portable CD player. Folding chair. Easy in, easy out.

    27   Lots of fun, and almost impossible to let people know. It was the simplicity and funkiness that made the entire thing come to life. I wound up walking for two-and-a half hours, great exercise, and my sore feet barked all the way home.

    28   Really fun stuff. Sometimes being alone is an awesome thing. Not being lonely, mind you, but being alone. There is a huge difference. I was enjoying a day to myself.

    29   I  never did get that half-chicken. I wound up buying a cup with cucumbers on the top, pineapple in the middle, and watermelon on the bottom for three dollars. Meal of the week in the midst of a nice walk. Healthiest fast food out there, and deliciously cold and refreshing.

    30   I'm going to go again really soon.

    31   By the time I got back to the T000000NDRA, it felt that I walked from one end of the Earth to the other.  I popped in Parachutes by Coldplay, one of the three CD's I bought. The T000000NDRA isn't set up for an iPod, so I still enjoy the company of CD's.  It cost me three dollars, thirty-three and a third cents. And then some. Report: nary a scratch. Clean. Pure. Clear as the sky.

    32   My Saturday walk throught the Flea Market rocked. I didn't expect it to, just thought it would be pretty boring and routine. I went home having spent a little over thirty bucks: twelve for the mic, ten for the CD's, three thirty-threerounded off,  got parking, a mic, three CD's unscathed, a fruit cup, and a grand afternoon that included two hours of exercise. I popped Parachutes into the player and rolled down the windows before heading toward the East Hills, still lush from the recent rains, and backed by a backdrop of slow-shifting cumulus. As I said, clean, pure, and clear as the sky.

    33   Sort of works against Einstein in a way, because I felt that I had walked forever.

    34   The walk seemed  to take forever, but the weekend still shot by in about one second.  Caitlin came down, had fun at the Berryessa Art and Wine Festival, and we spent Sunday fixing a sickly cat and having barbecued chicken. Later she found someone had broken the back passenger window to her car. Without a beat we swept it up, popped the remaining glass out, vacuumed it out, and put a temporary Sannozay window in, which consisted of a garbage bag and duct tape. Classic.

    35     With all due respect, a Burlingame white boy would have come unglued and cried and screamed at his parents all night. Caitlin knew it simply needed a Band-Aid, a call to a glass shop, a couple of Benjamins, and that she'd have a brand new window AND a vacuumed car to boot later today.

    36    We are old pros at all things Sannozay. She's sleeping soundly as I write, and all is well. Cat's fine, and so is the "window", which will turn magically to glass before sundown.

    37   Well, it's Monday. We'll see how this week flies. I'm expecting another great week, because that's the way I roll at the end of the school year.

    38    Have a great day. Go out and support the families and community members who have built their lives around the good ol' Flea Market. It's free on Wednesday-Friday, and just a few bucks to get in on weekends, when there's more stuff to enjoy anyway.

    39     As a long-time resident of Sannozay, I'd like to say something on behalf of Patrick Marleau: Jeremy Roenik is a jerk. Play to win. We gotcher backs boyz. You are our Sannozay Sharks, and we'll believe to the bitter end. Roenik has no loyalties because he has played on about sixty different teams. Hmmm. Wonder why? Sharks fans, patience at the plate. Learn from the Giants. Patience at the plate.

    a a a patience at the plate

    40      Love your Monday. Sannozay rocks. Fly low.

    41      Peace.

     

    ~H~

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  • a a a augustine 4 monolith a a a noises off 1 red jalopy

    a a a hal 1 The Daily News

    1  Did a week just run past me?

    2   Wow.

    3    I looked on my kitchen counter and saw the Merc News' Eye, and thought to myself, "That's last week's."  Uh...no?

    4    This truly felt like the fastest week of the year to me. I think a part of me feels that I still need to teach my students more things, and that the year feels like it is ending too early. When have I ever said THAT???

    5    I have been running full bore all week, trying to make every single day count. It is occurring to me that these five periods have become entire worlds for my students. Each class has created its own identity, and because we use a lot of groupwork and group activities, they have bonded with their own groups, each group in turn bonding with the rest of the class.  

    6    So it's interesting watching them interacting, hugging, and acting goofy and all. Midway through LAST semester they would climb all over each other to take pictures and to laugh.

    7    I always think that a class bonding together serves to create lifelong friends and awesome memories.

    8   I remember sometimes when Ponch and I would sit around goofing on a great rehearsal how I would often turn to him and say, "Mr. Ponticelli sir, we are in the business of creating memories!"  He would always respond with, "Mr. Harrington sir, you are absolutely right!" or words to that effect.

    9   I still see it that way. Yesterday I introduced my classes to five awesome songs by Simon and Garfunkel.  I gave all of them, including my sheltered class, the songs The Sound of Silence, Scarborough Fair, Cloudy, America, and The 59th St. Bridge Song (Feelin' Groovy).

    10   Scarborough Fair on paper WITH lyrics to the Canticle is an amazing experience for young students. Chord-wise, it's a reasonably easy song to play. But adding the other instruments as well as a secondary story interweaving with the primary story makes it a masterpiece in my eyes, up there with anything Poe ever did. One girl was spinning from the ride.

    11   Me too.

    12    When I was younger, I was sometimes looked down by the "intellectuals" because Simon and Garfunkel were "...too pop. Dylan is the real deal!" they would say.

    13     Huh? To me there is no denying that Dylan is one of the most talented artists to emerge from the folk-rock genre. But really?  Simon and Garfunkel deserve the accolades. Dylan: Uglier. Equally poetic. Lousier voice. Has been a ghost for years.

    14    I don't really like comparing artists, in general. It is truly a matter of personal taste, but I used to get bugged by the "too pop" stuff. And Simon's solo career really began when Garfunkel decided to move his career into the movies.

    15    Simon kept re-defining himself, and the two would often quarrel, and oftentimes not even speak to each other. And yes, Paul Simon released a lot of tepid songs always with reasonably good lyrics, but not many met the purity and essence of poetry as when the two worked together.

    16   Those five songs rocked my students. I worried that my assignment might have turned two artists I loved into an "Englishy" assignment to my students, and that they might just see it as yet another in a bunch of authors stuck in a book.

    17    But Cloudy, a more obscure song, always lights the students up. It's a fun, carefree romp, at least on the surface. Some students last year found it brooding and grey. They saw "The sky is grey and white and cloudy" as a person who was depressed. The lyrics say that, but the music doesn't. Interesting.

    18   So even though the tune tumbles and skips along, some of the words don't seem so light to some of the students. Interesting, because I always feel happy whenever I hear the song. I assumed everybody else felt the same vibe. Am I allowed to use that term? "Vibe"? Request permission. Permission granted.

    19    Here is a link to the tune. Listen immediately, and enjoy. It's pretty sweet if you've never heard it:

                                 

    Cloudy by Paul Simon

    Performed by Simon and Garfunkel

    Cloudy
    The sky is grey and white and cloudy,
    Sometimes I think its hanging down on me.
    And its a hitchhike a hundred miles.
    I'm a ragamuffin child.
    Pointed finger-painted smile.
    I left my shadow waiting down the road for me a while.

    Cloudy
    My thoughts are scattered and they're cloudy,
    They have no borders, no boundaries.
    They echo and they swell
    From Tolstoi [sik] to Tinker Bell.
    Down from Berkeley to Carmel.
    Got some pictures in my pocket and a lot of time to kill.

    Hey sunshine
    I havent seen you in a long time.
    Why dont you show your face and bend my mind?
    These clouds stick to the sky
    Like a floating question, "Why?"
    And they linger there to die.
    They dont know where they're going and my friend, neither do I.

    Cloudy,
    Cloudy.

    20   AnywayZ it is alway fun watching the students discover this little gem.

    21   And I never really know who will enjoy the tunes. Some are quite close-minded, and not willing to listen to anything but the music THEY like.  I'm quite open to the music that they like, so I invite them to enjoy the music I like. All is music.

    22   Others become instantly enthralled. One student came up to me this morning and whispered, "Um...Mr. Harrington, while we're between songs, could I share a poem I just wrote, just now, with the class?"

    23   It was SO cool. His poem was free verse, which is usually pretty nice because most high school students think  that all it takes to construct a poem awkwardly to throw a bunch of words together so that they will achieve a rhyme. 

    24    <basketball buzzer>

    25     It doesn't matter to them that I tell them that a large majority of poems nowadays don't rhyme. In general, overdoing any device in a poem is going to make it not work. That being said, I also mentioned to my class that Cloudy is arguably the first poem that succeeds beautifully with four lines in succession rhyming ( the rhyme scheme is an absurd a a bbbb a a cccc dd eeee). I love it though:

    These clouds stick to the sky
    Like a floating question, "Why?"
    And they linger there to die.
    They dont know where they are going and my friend, neither do I.

    26    But my students step into battle today today equipped with five poems apiece. I will have coffee, orange juice, icy milk, water, cinnamon buns, coffee cake, and a large assortment of Cuties, bananas, apples, and other fine items. I will probably play some Miles Davis as they come in, and let the day take off. These guys write beautifully, so I am really looking forward to our biggest day of the school year.

    27    I might add here and now that this is the first Daily News EVER that contains an embedded YouTube video! I have no idea how I did it, and when I went to google how to do that, you evidently need special tools, a guy from You Tube to instruct you how to use the bot that will later teach you, and a complete codebook that is a thousand pages in length. Something having to do with Sanskrit was also brought up; not sure what. It's a riddle, wrapped in a mystery...

    28     So this one worked, at least it did last night. I tried to get another on today's DN, and it was a complete "access denied". Open the pod-bay door, HAL.

    29    I'm sorry Dave...I'm afraid I can't do that.

    30    So I wrestled around with that last night, but nothing wanted to work after the first one.

    31    I'll give it a look this weekend. It was pretty fun when it happened because the implications are that I could finally have videos on the DN.

    32    So I think that enough time has been taken from me on this guy.

    33    I'm putting this DN to bed for the night or morning or whatever it is.

    34     Have a great weekend.

    35     Peace.

    ~H~

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    a a a poetry 1 mirror ball


    The Daily News

    1   Had a bit of fun with my classes yesterday with a Rat-a-Tat Poetry session in which I ambushed them with some GREAT poems. I had a chair and a microphone, and introduced them to such luminaries as Maya Angelou, Lorna Dee Cervantes, Juan Felipe Herrera, Langston Hughes, and more.

    2   I had the Gabe Dixon Band playing as they walked in, and natural daylight from the huge windows in my room. Some walked in snapping fingers.

    3   As I  passed out each poem, I had a student gather the poem we had just enjoyed, so that it ran smoothly.

    4   What I didn't tell them was that many years ago, Lorna Dee and Juan Felipe came to the YB Theatre to give a reading. Margarita Robles, Juan Felipe's life-companion to this day was there as well. As I recall there were five poets in all.

    5   The office requested that we set up some microphones and tech for the poets, so they were sent down to the Theatre.

    6    It was one of those meetings in which everyone hit it off famously, and the room turned warm and full of good "vibes". Juan Felipe and Margarita were fun, frivolous and WAY ready to play.

    7    I recall the immortal Jean Rivers being backstage, and I asked if these guys would like some special lighting, or even projections on the cyc.

    8    Juan Felipe was  "into" performance art before it became popular, and he got really excited about our enthusiasm to accomadate. Jean made jazz colors using colored gels and overhead projectors. It knocked Juan Felipe out. We also threw all sorts of fun colors and artistic lighting effects up on the stage.

    9    Juan Felipe and Margarita absolutely loved it, so instead of just doing a sound check, we welcomed these poets into the magical, mystical world of our Theatre,

    10   Those who can move their minds through the mists of time might remember the immortal mirror ball that we would use for all sorts of fun things. The mirror ball was always one of the cheapest and to this day best effects I think we ever had on a constant basis.

    11   For whatever reason, it always destroyed me when someone would refer to it as a "Disco Ball", the connotation being a pretty tacky period of time in American history, and not at all the artistic piece I always enjoyed. I once saw a mirror ball in an old movie theater in Burlingame called the Encore, a lovely art-deco place that was a holdover from the 1930's. It had a bar on the second floor, but it had seen better days. But they used a mirror ball between movies, and I never forgot how much I enjoyed that effect, as simple as it is.

    12   With Jean's incredible work on lights, and the mirror ball going, congas playing, and at least three mics on stage, it turned into an incredible rehearsal.

    13   Juan Felipe jumped up on the stage, advanced to a mic, and told the other poets, "Let's all bring our books [of poetry] to the stage. I'll call out some random number, like '59' or something, and then all of us will turn to page 29 and read any random line from our poem on that page. Only it will be each of us with one line, and then I'll yell another number!"

    14   They did. Jean brought in a galaxy on the cyc. The words were ALL poetic, so that it was like this amazing jam session of images and moods. They got into a rhythm with each other, and the entire Theatre turned into this incredible jam session of truly talented, professional poets having a wonderful time. The best way I could describe it is words in space creating rhythm and music. We had a live flute going as well.

    15   Midway through, Lorna Dee stepped up to the mic. She was a San Josean, pure, through and through. She lived on Bird, and began talking through her raven hair about life on Bird. She read a poem called Emplumada from her first book of the same name. She recited a poem called Freeway 280, about the changes that happened so swiftly from her childhood in the early '50's, and how this small town of orchards had come under the shadow of concrete, and yet the mustard grass would still grow, and the flowers would continue to bloom despite the concrete shadow of progress.

    16   Time stood still.

    17   By the end, it was an amazing evening. They did a performance that brought down the house. After everyone left, we were exhausted and hungry. Someone, I think it was Juan Felipe, suggested House of Pizza. Amazingly, all of these famous poets knew EXACTLY where that was. We all spent the rest of the night chilling on a job well done, eating greasy, wonderful pizza, and enjoying a few cold beers. It was absolutely amazing, and they treated us!!!

    18   Great memory, if it is accurate. We remember the good moments, and that night I had met others of my ilk, people who love writing, and who love poetry, and who just as easily love House of Pizza, and an occasional cold one.

    19   I shared that story with my students so they could see that poetry isn't a "subject" in school, but something that comes from the heart of real human beings.

    20   What they didn't know was that later on, after House of Pizza and all, I sat down and wrote a poem about the entire evening. It caught the evening entirely. I wrote it that very night, spacing all of the words just as haphazardly as the evening performed. For years I would share my own poetry with my students in exchange for them sharing theirs with me.

    21   For some reason though, I was always a bit nervous about the poem, because without the proper background, it never worked for me. Also, because it is part visual, part space (like the evening), I have yet to find a computer that will transfer the Word doc, which I recently edited, to any blog site without pulling the words to far apart, or ruining the spacing, most of which spiraled down the page like an anorexic tornado.

    22   For one thing, it is a space poem, meaning that I put each word in a space that just seemed to work with my soul that evening. I loved how the words just shot through me and dictated by sheer will where they should wind up on the page.

    23   That was really the essence of it for me. To an outside reader, it might have looked like absolute rubbish. So I never shared it, because it was certainly esoteric and meaningful to the handful of people who drank in that evening.

    24    So I read the poem to my class, but didn't tell them who wrote it. Some thought Juan Felipe may have. Some Lorna Dee. Others who weren't paying attention even said Langston Hughes. Dude. You're messin' with the lesson. Lanston Hughes does use fragments and misdirection, as well as random thoughts in his work. But nopt.

    25    So here it is, for the first time in public. On my Xanga, it appeared perfect, but when it goes public, the words tend to split. I could have fixed it, but it would have taken hours. So you'll get the gist of it, hopefully.

    26   Here's the poem:

    space landing by poets once long ago on a may evening

    in the yerbabuenahighschool Theatre



    They came

    in

                                                                             many colors

                 the stagelights put

                                                                             David

                                                                                        in

                                                                      a turquoise

                                                                                           and

                                                                              pink

                                                                              coloured

                                                                              silhouette

                                                                            his drum

                                                                               at his

                                                                                   side

                                                                              poised for

                                                                         theatrical battle

     

                                                                         Juan Felipe, the spirit

                                                                               of the child

                                                                                 creating

                                                                                            a

                                                                                 playground

                                                                                    out of

                                                                               coloured space

                                                                             

                                                                                     climbing

                                                                                 in and out

                                                                                        of

                                                                                     images

                                                                                 dazzled with

                                                                               --the lights

     

                                                                                      rose petals

                                                                                           drape

                                                                                          themselves

                                                                                       delicately over 

      

     

    the Theatre seats

                                                                           turned

                                                                            pink

                                                                             by

                                                                         stage

                                                                                lights

     

    Lorna Dee

    --emplumada-

     jazz music

                                                                                bird

    Charlie Parker stuff

                                                                    thrown off a little

                                                                        by the

                                                                     staging

     

                                                                                     of words

                                                                            she smiles

                                                                                at

    all of it

                                                                    shyly moves to

    the Stage

    and

    her words

    about life

                                                                             on Bird

                                                                        capture us

                                                                            hold us

                                                                            our heads are lit

                                                                            pink and turquoise

                                                                              halos

     

    Jean is backstage

                                                                         on the overhead

                                                                            projecting

                                                                        city skylines

                                                                        cow pastures

                                                                        galaxies

                                                                               on the back

                                                                          wall

                                                                           hands becoming

                                                                           enormous shadows

     

      

    and then

                                                                                  small

                                                                                  again

    and then

                                                                                  huge

    a magical backdrop

                                                                        magnifying

                                                                             the

                                                                         stature of

    the raving poet

                                                                               but

                                                                                   her

                                                                                   words

                                                                                  continue

                                                                                       to

                                                                         fly like wild blackbirds

                                                                                  ravens

                                                                             and she stops

                                                                                 breathless

                                                                               with Theatre

                                                                                    lights

                                                                                    shining

                                                                                              in

                                                                                  her

                                                                                 black pupils

     

                     Margarita

                                                                                 conducting

                                                                                 the symphony

                                                                                          of

                                                                                 poems and

                                                                                       poets

                                                                                 asking Francis

                                                                                        to

                                                                                        play a

                                                                                        flute

                                                                                        piece

                                                                                          and

                                                                                      discussing

                                                                                        stagings

     

      

    with David

                                                                            intense

                                                                             concentration

                                                                          in

                                                                                moonglow

                                                                          from

                                                                                  a

                                                                              spotlight

                                                                              filtering over

                                                                                 shoulders

                                                                            causing

                                                                             cris-cross

                                                                               shadows

                                                                               of

                                                                               color



    27   And the evening ended. Just like that. The trouble with putting the poem out there anywhere is that the words and letters won't line up like the original, which was all more towards center, but you get the idea. The internet distorts and throws the words way further than I did. But this is as close as I could get to the actual text.

    28   I followed the careers of the poets. Another whose work I couldn't find is a local poet by the name of David Piper, referenced in the last part. Nor could I find a piece of work online by Margarita Robles.

    29   I think I traced David to Mission College, but not really confirmed. I have more research to do. And for the life of me I can't remember who Francis was. If anyone remembers, let me know.

    30   And I find it proper that Jean Rivers should be considered a poet. I haven't seen Jean in years, but she was as graceful and amazing a presence in our Theatre as anyone who ever wandered around backstage.

    31   And she jammed perfectly with these amazing beings.

    32   Space landing. Time and space and any sort of rules flew out the window that night.

    33    I wondered the other evening as I was putting all this together for my students if any of those wonderful poets ever wrote about that night, or if the incident has been published, or might have been published in a literary anthology.

    34    So fun times, and yesterday's session felt almost like the grandchild of that once long ago on a May evening in the yerbabuenahighschool Theatre sans upon a time.

    35    The students walked away with at least a sense that literature is not schoolwork; rather it is the spirit of different human beings trying to scream something to the ages.

    36     I wanted to get that to them before education, standards bearers, "rigorous" high school teachers who mean well, and fierce professors steer them completely away from one of the world's most beautiful arts: voices of the human spirit. They eventually do everything in their power to dissect, analyze, tear into, and ultimately ruin that spirit. It's annoying. So here's how I feel about all of that:

    37     Not on my watch.

    38     Not on my watch

    39     If it isn't fun, I won't do it. The human spirit deserves more.

    40     End of lesson.

    40     Peace.

    ~H~

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    a a a seto seto seto!!!!

     

    SETO!!!!!!!!!

     

  • IMG_0385

     a a a me 33 A Love Letter a a a red umbrella a a a hummingbird 1 Happy Birthday Mom!!! Your Buddy misses you!!! = )

    a a a blanda 4 chaplin

     The Daily News

    1  Are you kind?

    2  Yeesh.

    3   Well, that was random, but you have to warm up before you pitch late innings. Happy Birthday, Mom. In your honor, I will make today's DN about kindness, and how I used your wisdom yesterday.

    4   Yesterday I had a phone call from a desperate special ed teacher who needed me to sit in on an IEP next Thursday morning at 10:30 a.m. The last IEP I attended was right before we left for Easter. At that time they promised me that I had done enough for the year. She almost broke down, because she had just returned from the second of two funerals for extremely close family, and her work had backed up.

     

    5   Well...been there.

    6   Ironically, 10:30 a.m. is my support class, and also their first day of working on group projects, which must be completed in five school days, seven days altogether. Bad day for me not to be with them. I thought it through, and here is what I told her:

    7    I told her that I would do it, and not to worry. I will get a local teacher on campus to sub and get my students started.

    8    The second I hung up the phone, another student came in asking if I could like and comment on some project she did on You Tube. I said, "I'll have it done by the end of lunch."

    9     Three football players asked for grade checks the period prior. I dropped everything I was doing and calculated each grade.

    10   Within seconds, three girls approached me and asked if I could supervise an ITS practice at 3 p.m. Granted, it was one of the best kids I had last year, so I said, "The International Thespian Society?"

    11   The student I had just giggled and said, "Yeah!" They marveled that I knew what the letters stood for.

    12    I told the girls that I had to think if I had any other commitments after school, when the girl on the computer interrupted and wanted to show me how to access her You Tube project, and how I was to "like" it and comment on it for her. The other girls waited patiently while I juggled that one. While the girl on the computer kept talking to me, I looked up at the other girl and said, "When?"

    13   "3:15?" came the swift reply, while the girl at the computer continued explaining in detail what I needed to do to make her stuff appear on this You Tube thingy.The question mark indicated a tacit, "Please?"

    14    I looked back up at the other three girls and said, "I'll be there." They smiled, giggled, and left the room with a bunch of "Thank-you's".

    15   After the entire menage left, the room fell silent.

    16   Two angels from Heaven floated down with one of those devices you see at amusement parks that have a cartoon hammer, and when you bring the hammer down, it shoots a little puck up to a bell, such as you would see in a Roger Rabbit fantasy.

    a a a high striker 2

    17   At first I couldn't believe that I was actually seeing live angels, but once I accepted it, I took the hammer and laid it down.

    18   The puck hit the bell on the first try, and all sorts of buzzers and whistles occurred simultaneously, and then quite swiftly a cloud formed around and under my feet, and I drifted off...

    19   Oh, oh, what I want to know...is...

    20    Are you kind?

    24    I wound up later on in the school Theatre sitting and watching unpolished drama skits that go up next week. It was absolutely grand! At center stage sat a lone chair, and nothing else.

    25   Time Travel: My very first day of my very first drama gig way back-in-the day: I remember the Principal's assistant handing me keys to the Mills High School Auditorium in Millbrae. He had wanted me to direct the school play while the regular teacher was enjoying a sabbatical.

    26   When I first began, I thought that the idea of a sabbatical was awesome.

    27   That was about the last I heard of it.

    28    Anyway, I remember clutching the keys to the place, and then going over, all alone, turning the key, and going inside.

    29    The first thing I saw was an old chair at center stage, one of those chairs you would see in the dressing room in an old movie about people putting on a play.

    30   I remember running down to the ray-o-stat light controls and bringing up an entire bank of lights.

    31   NO! TOO BRIGHT!

    32    That's better. I unlocked the bank and found one feathery beam that I placed at a slight angle on the chair.

    33    I then saw a bank called "cyc lights". Cyc lights would light up a cyclorama, a cloth backdrop that could be used for projecting clouds, stars, or just colors or slides.

    34    Mills had a cyc that flew in, so I flew it in.

    35    I looked back at the controls and found "blue".

    36    Slowly, I brought up a deep, soulful blue cyclorama behind the old chair in the single beam ellipsoid.

    37    And then I went out into the audience and smiled. I must have moved the chair at a thousand different angles that day, and returned to the audience watching my first real Show.

    38    A portrait of...

    39    And yesterday I blinked, and the cyc was blue, and the chair was again there, only it was in our Theatre, and it was indeed yesterday.

    40   What a wonderful moment. Alpha. Omega.

    41    It was wonderful for a couple of reasons.

    42    It was wonderful because I was kind.

    43    It was wonderful because each time I blinked, I saw something different.

    44    It was wonderful because of all the years in between.

    45    Words won't work.

    46    Are you kind?

    47    Happy Birthday, Mom. You passed your kindness to many. For that and so much else, I love you.

    48    Peace.

     

    ~ Your Buddy~

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  • a a a flag 1 sunset a a a family of secrets 3 shhhhhhh... a a a family of secrets 3 Prescott Bush and Richard Nixon a a a family of secrets 2 GHW Bush CIA  The Daily News

    1  How come nothing ever works the way it's supposed to?

    2  Like yesterday while doing a bajillon things, I went to my printer and waited for results.

    3   For some reason, it would reject the first sheet of feed paper, and then print the next one. It wasn't much, but slowed everything down by about four seconds.

    4   Later in the day, I went to our copy machine with my OWN paper so that I could run a huge project.

    5   I looked at the first couple of copies and they looked fine, so I went over the other copier to get a new thing going. HUGE job, but fortunately for me nobody was around.

    6   Except the Dibble.

    a a a debble 1

    7  When I heard the last paper slide slowly onto the stack and the machine take a breather, I casually walked over only to find that midway through doing back-to-back copies of a poetry unit I have been working on, entire pages of math problems ran on 180 of my copies.

    8   180 copies, all because some teacher left his stuff on the glass, triggering some sort of psychological reaction in the copy machine. Maybe in its previous life it had trouble figuring out both math and poetry, a commonly human travail.

    9    I thought of giving it to my students anyway, just to see the looks on their faces, and insisting it was a poem.

    10   Fear not; I've better things to do with my time than "practical" jokes, which I never found funny anyway.

    11    Continuing on with things that don't work the way they're supposed to:  even when I  was in the midst of doing this DN, the font on number seven switched, and refused to un-center.

    12   All true.

    13   To its credit, I did give it a glare, and it returned pretty fast.

    14    Yes, I let inanimate objects KNOW when I am pissed.

    15   One time I was in the Theatre worried about some major life concerns when the song Let it Be came on the system. The song moved me more than it normally did, so I think it was a catch-up-with-the now sorta moments. I was almost dancing with the musical notes.

    16   Suddenly, it shut off.

    17   I paused. It was dead silent. Then I said two words:

    18   "Hey!"

    19    Within a millisecond it popped right back on; I swear to you.

    20    Wuss.

    21    Naturally, I loved it.

    22    It listened. Other things don't a lot of the time. 

    23    Maybe I should get pissed more often. 

    24    <thinks>

    25    Nah.

    26    Moving on, Part the First: I'm all about people celebrating the death of Osama and allowing those sad, sad moments of 9/11 to come screaming back to our memories, but it seems to me the flag-waving is already getting out of hand and over the top.

    27   If I may, the last time that happened was right after 9/11, and within months, our Bill of Rights was burned to the ground by the Bush adminstration, whose family has serious ties to some pretty insidious people, not the least of whom is the Bin Laden family. Yes, I'm calling the Bushes out on their crap. Have a pie.

    a a a pie day 1

    28   I've learned to look every huge story with a little bit of caution. I don't believe everything we're told by Presidents, nor by the military. I've always read the backstory, and looked at political research in these sorts of instances, and I feel at this point, I deserve a little respect for proceeding cautiously with a government who lied about the Gulf of Tonkin incident, who lied about the JFK assassination, who lied about the Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. assassionation, who lied about the Bobby Kennedy killing, and who lied about John Kennedy, Jr.s killing, who lied about Pat Tillman, and who possibly lied about 9/11. Why? Oil, money, extreme power unbridled. I go no further than the Bush family. You don't have to go far to see what these people have been up to since the second world war, and even earlier.

    29   Pisses people off, but when I measure facts with the fiction these guys throw out there on a daily basis, I find that the wrong people are angry.

    30   I'm not saying that Osama Bin Laden hasn't been killed. I'm saying that the moments after something huge has happened, it should be questioned by tough reporters. There were no reporters present when Obama made the announcement. Who controls the present? Keep reading, if you don't want to run me off with a cattle prod already:

    31   Here are some of my questions about this story: why didn't the President have a press conference rather than a controlled environment when he made the announcement?

    32   Why were there so many inconsistencies with the story when it first developed?

    33   How did Bin Laden live in a huge building in Pakistan and nobody ever leaked it? And no computers or phones? How'd he answer the phone call put to him by his acquaintance the CIA was sleuthing?

    34   How did two helicopters fly right over a seemingly powerful guy and not get fired at except by Bin Laden himself? If he is a powerful and dangerous as they say, that place would have been impenetrable. Why inconsistencies in the amount of helicopters?

    35   Where is the body? What's up with a "burial at sea" at a crime scene? Where is the forensic evidence that this story is legit? Reports are he was shot in the eye. This implies a front entrance. Was the back of his head an exit wound, which would be large and glaring?

    36   Why did they publish photos of Bin Laden that were published a year ago on other news sources, photos that look clearly faked?

    37    Why did it take the CIA, one of the most incredibly efficient organizations in the world, TEN years to find one guy? These guys are WAY capable of finding the guy. He was the number one most wanted guy in the world, and the main reason we went into Afghanistan. Shouldn't all efforts have been put to getting him within a year of the 9/11 attacks? How did  we fly freely into a sovereign country undetected and attack a building? Isn't that what WE were angry about?

    38    And when I see a groundswell of super-jingoism happening, I get frightened. Our constitution burned to the ground after 9/11. The Bush administration threw a lot of lies out over the years, and now the government can kick our doors down at 3 a.m., take us away, and not have to tell our families where we are, all in the name of "homeland security". They have established that we could have military police arresting our citizens. We now allow private police forces to roam American streets. I don't remember that ever being allowed, ever, in our constitution.

    39    I could go on, but I just like people to back off these stories and ask some hard questions before swallowing all this patriotic fluff these guys feed us.

    40    So I'm calling them out. I'm not saying that Bin Laden wasn't killed, but just for a brief moment, what would happen if he already was, and they were saving it for a perfect time to spark everybody up? It is not as far-fetched as it sounds.

    41    I'm just backing off, after having been lied to continually by the powers that be over the years.

    42    I would like to see some of those questions I posed researched by reporters right now, instead of reading a researched book five years from now talking about what really went down with this entire story. Or reading about witnesses who disappeared, or whose testimony changed within a day or so of the event. Seen it too often.

    43    As one person put it, "It doesn't pass the smell test."

    44    I do see where this story is headed. When John Kennedy, Jr. went down in a plane, I remember finding very little evidence of foul play. I researched it for a couple of years, and came up empty. I finally figured that the official story was probably okay.

    45    Still, I didn't think THAT one passed the smell test either, until recently.

    46    I'm just now discovering some amazing things about that story, much of it probably true, because there are public records indicating extreme foul play on the part of the FAA and the CIA. I won't go into it, but yes, somebody wanted John Kennedy, Jr. killed.

    47    I just think we need to exercise a little caution before we start all of our flag-waving and all. An intelligent person would consider this in light of the tarnished reputation that our government officials consistently throw at us on a daily basis.

    48    I have already mentioned the book Family of Secrets by Russ Baker, as perhaps a place for you to start if you're doubting a lot of this. Incredibly well-researched,  Baker makes some serious, eye-popping observations using public docs and meticulous research. The people in charge of our destiny are dangerous, and there are some pretty shady people rolling about who make sure nobody gets this info. The mainstream press absolutely fears these people.

    49   If anything else, just keep an eye out for fast decisions in Congress, and extended military presence near oil fields, because it's only a matter of minutes. These are clear indications of an agenda by the rich and for the richer.

    50   These guys thrive on wars and oil. It's no coincidence that most of our military deployment is in areas of the world where oil flows. Anybody in the military knows this.

    51   And I'm not trying to rain on the parade. This entire story could be legit. I definitely think Osama Bin Laden, whoever he is, is dead. I'm just not sure how long it is he has been dead. And that's a good thing for the families, and for a country that wants so badly to believe its leaders, and in justice. I get this.

    52    So enjoy it, but approach these huge events with an eye of caution. If you see more civil rights being taken away; it you see more burning away of the democratic principles brought in by our founding fathers, then look askance, and do some digging. Don't accept it all as icing on a patriotic cake. That cake could have a red, white, and blue firecracker sizzling in it.

    53   You are aloud to read, and to think and make up your own mind.

    54    Do that. It is more important than dressing in red, white, and blue and buying into all of it. Use your intelligence, and be brave.

    55     It doesn't pass the smell test.

    56     Peace, and I mean that in a good way.

     

    ~H~

    a a a cool guy 1

    www.xanga.com/bharrington

     

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