“What luck for the rulers that men do not think. Adolph Hitler”

Adger Cowans – A Quote


Do you have any regrets?

Not at all. If you did it, you did it, it’s over. Why regret it? I have a terrific life. I’m sitting here talking to you. I’m 80 years old. I don’t have a cane, I’m not on crutches, I’m not on meds. And I attribute all that to being connected to the inner voice in me. The inner spirit. It’s intuitive. It’s not anything that you can put your finger on, but when you feel it you know it. I’ve had enough bangs upside the head to know when my first thought was right. Because I doubted myself in the beginning. It took me until I was 50 to feel really comfortable with my voice and trust myself.

Adger Cowans has a new book out. Read his interview in The Daily Beast.

And Don’t Touch My Cheetos Dammit!

Enough is enough! I am still the lord and ruler of this place and will brook no transgressions

Read the list at end of article, he was prepared to defend the chocolate chip cookies too!


Early Rushes


Turns out it wasn’t all that great living as a lizard. Sure, sure there were the hawks and coyotes but they just go along with the arrangement. You got your job, they got theirs. The coyotes were mostly nocturnal anyway and if you stayed still enough the hawks didn’t see you. No, it wasn’t the dangers or the climate that was at fault, anyone can put up with a little heat wave or cold spell. And food wasn’t the issue, the terrain was ideal, small rushes near a small waterhole, rocks for cover, plenty of fallen vegetation, wide sparsely grown flats, flies and bugs everywhere. The problem was the preppers.

There was just enough cover in the oasis to support five or seven families of them, depending on the tribal sentiments of the time. Continue reading Preppers

That Explains It, We’re All Sleepwalking

News from Stanford University researchers, real scientists mind you, not just people who thinks something is true because they saw it online, say that our brains are constantly shifting between states of wakefulness and sleep and not just while our bodies are at rest. Their study indicates that part of the brain’s organizational structure and functionality depends upon its many different regions having the ability to cycle on and off even while awake. Asleep, the brain goes through numerous stages of activity and rest, familiar to all of us, at times we dream, and other times not. But it turns out that the brain also requires temporary shutdowns even during the day in order to keep things moving along smoothly. The brain chooses its times to reboot based upon several factors, generally based upon need, and during while awake it never shuts down completely, (Same as asleep.), but selectively inhibits those regions that it feels are unneeded at the time. “Selective attention is similar to making small parts of your brain a little bit more awake,” says Tatiana Engel, and similarly, selective inattention disables functions on a regular basis.

Which explains a lot, like why  some folks come home from the big box store with more bars of soap than a homeless shelter could use in a century. (We love to pick on the poor, we were once poor and feel so much better than them now, or is that just our brain closing down empathy for a bit.) It also explains why teenagers ride skateboards down what everyone knows is a handrail and why some people jump out of perfectly good airplanes counting on a parachute packed by a stranger who may or may not have stayed up too late watching the full Itchy and Scratchy compendium from The Simpsons on Blu-Ray. Pay attention, costs nothing.

Scratch Yer Itch Jennifer

Jennifer Lawrence And Eye.

Jennifer Lawrence, fer the love o’ Pete can’t a girl scratch her itch? Baseball and football players do, and right out in public.  Why would the fairer sex need any less fulfillment? Big news is she, Jennifer L., famous unassuming actress, master archer and advocate for humane treatment of the defenseless polenta, is in hot water, meaning some Hawaiians want to toss her in a volcano, because she had an itch and scratched it on a rock. Not just any rock but a sacred rock. Now I’d be a holy rock too if Jennifer Lawrence….

Thing is if we keep calling out innocent celebrities for harmless fun, and hound them till they feel as persecuted as Willie Nelson or The Dixie Chicks then no one will want to be a celebrity and they will become scarce and we’ll have to resort to using the b and c list celebrities, like The Donald, for all sorts of things they were never intended to be used for. Leave the poor girl alone man. She didn’t mean anything by it.

Speaking about leaving things alone isn’t it about time we stopped consecrating everything in sight? We’re gonna run short of places we can befoul. Stop climbing on Ayers rock, leave Bears Ears alone, don’t be putting no pipeline here and don’t step there, it’s a grave. Good lord man, the whole world is sacred, and a grave, or will soon be.

Bless Our Poor Little Hearts

We’d All Like Some Cake

We are trying to do the right thing, that is most of us are, as in nine in ten of us are. There is one in every group… Truth is, we’re now a hoard and most of the problems we face are those of our outpaced growth. The hoard wants what the hoard wants which is what every good corporation or bad cancer wants, it wants. The one in ten follows the herd algorithmically.

Nine of us just want a happy day, or life as it turns out to be. All of us want to eat and care for our families but Uncle Fred could give a hoot Continue reading Bless Our Poor Little Hearts

How Are The Poor Folk

Rice Dessert

Getting cold out and a rich sugary dessert is just what a poor soul woul relish this time in history. Cooked white rice, an inexpensive staple, white sugar, the devil’s own, sweet cinnamon, ground up tree bark, butter, squeezed from a cow with some chopped dates, found at the apex of certain palms and diced figs, recently dug up, or so it would appear. After a repast of dissimilar foodstuffs the treat described above was a completion of the picture.

And the poor live like kings. Exotic fruits, aromatic spices, rich nutritive grains and cow squeezins from all over the globe, there’s no complaints. They can get in their cars and go. They can raid the merchants and come back. Even the poor can raid the merchants using tact, shopping the sales, buying used and day old, mending, alterations, upcycling and what not. Socks can be washed sterile and at 55c a pair neither foot will feel a breeze. The poor are not naked, unless by volition.

The poor eat well, the poor can travel, by volition, the poor can dress well, with tact, the poor can stay warm and dry without fear of ricochet, in most cases. The poor are entertained. They can go to a place and borrow a book that has truths in it a hundred years old or watch a screen with lies only a minute old. They can watch the sky rampant above the forever landscape, in places where there are no fees or strictures. There the poor can reflect on the oldest of thoughts. That it might be tough to squeeze a cow in it is perhaps better to let others do it.

Historically, globally the poor do not have it so well. Roofs and food are not in abundance, forget the figs. In another time they were killed for thier meager things. In another place they still are. Or killed for their thoughts, always best kept to oneself, killed for their appearance or sound or just for sport. In this place and time it still is true. Still, here and now the poor can have dessert so there is no complaint. Revolutions start in empty stomachs.

Wonder what kind of machine squezzes cows?

Cow Squeezing Machine

Some Things Are Never Learned

Here are a few select quotes from ‘A Tale Of Two Cities’, Chapter 7, Monseigneur In Town.

A sumptuous man was the Farmer General. Thirty horses stood in his stable, twenty four male domestics sat in his halls, six body-women waited upon his wife….. (We get it, he was rich and as to those he intrusted with the public business and who they were ….) Military officers destitute of military knowledge; naval officers with no idea of a ship; civil officers without a notion of affairs; brazen ecclesiastics, of the worst world worldly, with sensual eyes, loose tongues, and looser lives; all totally unfit for their several callings, all lying horribly in pretending to belong to them, but all nearly or remotely of the order of Monseigneur, and therefore foisted on all public employments from which anything was to be got; 

Charles Dickens and many others have spelled it out for us and still the same mistakes are repeated, generation to generation.

Muzzle The Press!

Perfectly timed to accommodate the new regime, several large entities, Twitter, Google, Facebook et al have announced measures to abridge free speech on their platforms. Google may no longer permit news sites to call it as they see it and make a profit, Facebook is fed up, it doesn’t like being called a media company and Twitter has written algorithms that purse out filthy words, like unit, casaba and protuberant.

Granted, the issue of freedom of speech is a prickly one, the line an editor must walk is narrow, almost untenable but not really necessary. The Yellow Press advocates freedom of speech in all its manifestations, unbridled, unleashed and unhinged.

Things will be said, vile, vulgar things, cruel, unkind things, things that are better off left unsaid. That’s the point. The first crack in the dam was the law prohibiting yelling “fire” in a theater. Textbook. Makes perfect sense, as most things usually do when seen through the eyes of our individual or collective personal point of view. It’s crazy to yell “fire” in a crowded theater, you might be the one trampled and maimed, during or after. But no law is needed, just the occasional trampling and maiming will curb the practice.

Argue all you want about what the founding fathers meant when they added that clause, you weren’t there, you don’t know. It says freedom of speech, set it free, let fly.

Neither governments nor corporations should muzzle us. Make yourself a nuisance, but in a quiet impressive, to be respected and emulated manner. People are still saying intelligent things. It’s just harder to hear them. Heed your mad poets.

Air pushes past some soft tissue we modify to utter sounds that we feel express our thoughts, it’s only noise. Let’s keep it that way.

New Film Covers Ukrainian Genocide


Genocide of 500000 ethnic Ukrainians who were citizens of  the Second Polish

Republic and they  were expelled from their homeland in the Poland
People’s Republic  to Soviet Ukraine in 1945-1951. According to the
agreement between the Government of the Ukrainian Soviet Socialist Republic
and Polish Committee of National Liberation evacuation of Ukrainian
population from the territory Poland and Polish citizens from the territory
of the USSR signed September 9, 1944 which was  forcibly deportation
Ukrainian population who were citizens of  the Second Polish Republic. Yalta
(Crimea) Conference of the Allied Powers (4 -11 February 1945) – the
meeting of leaders of the anti-Hitler coalition – the USSR, the US and the
UK – during the Second World War, dedicated to the establishment of the
post-war world order. It was necessary to install unofficial but generally
accepted by all parties to the line between the spheres of influence of the
Allies – the work which was begun at the Tehran Conference in 1943. The
redistribution of boundaries Roosevelt, Churchill and Stalin, having gone on
mutual concessions, agreed on almost all counts. As a result, the land where
ethnic Ukrainians lived for centuries  were given to Poland. In another
agreement  was signed during the Continue reading New Film Covers Ukrainian Genocide