rummy vs brownie

[stilltrucking]

Crazy Mike in WW uno, got his citizenship in the Merchant Marine. They put him down below waterline with the black stokers. Faded tatoo of an anchor on his arm. He always loved the play by O'Neil The Hairy Ape.

I transcended it, a flower growed up thru a crack in the sidewalk, man
weeds agrowin agin

tran·scend·ed, tran·scend·ing, tran·scends
v.tr.
1. To pass beyond the limits of: emotions that transcend understanding.
2. To be greater than, as in intensity or power; surpass: love that transcends infatuation. See Synonyms at excel.
3. To exist above and independent of (material experience or the universe): "One never can see the thing in itself, because the mind does not transcend phenomena" Hilaire Belloc.
v.intr.

I hardly ever use that word, for some reason I can never remember what exactly it means. I think I had a misconception, as in something supernatural, as in to go beyond. as if there is anyplace else but here. just a matter of being here, to transcend is to go back to here,

I suppose I like the one by Hiaire Belloc who I have never heard of before this moment. the bit aout "seeing"


taxes done, a day late and a hundred short, but I got OOPS on my checking account.
a day late, spent the day on the phone with the irs, nice people they were very helpful and I heard a lot of beautiful violin musc.

back to ya

I got de ole meta fiscal blues again.
but I got one more avocado
sung to the tune of midnight rider

[mnaz]

my question is this: why the fuck are they still printing quotes from gwb?

Good question.

[whimsicaldeb]

they both died, him happy and smug, and she as bitter as an unripe sour persimmmon, both absolute caretakerz of their way,
no doubt.
Is there forgiveness? Hell to pay

Sounds like they paid it! Hell - a lifetime of hell. Smug, sour, bitter and unforgiving ... that's a hell of a life - a lifetime of hell (if you ask me). How sad for them; what a waste. Not the type of life I'd want to live or way I want to die... in such twisted bitterness.

forgiveness
(!?!)

....ummm

Do you want to be forgiven ~ or to be understood?
Do you want to spend your life forgiving, or understanding others?
Maybe both/all (?)

It is said that forgiveness without change is just ego, and I believe it.

Next time step-padre (or anyone!) says to you "Never forgive you for what you've done” -- Reply “I understand” -- seriously! Try it.

(seek first to understand …then to be understood ~ quote from “Don’t Sweat the Small Stuff; and it’s all Small Stuff)

"If you would judge, understand." ~ Seneca

Say “I understand” to his (all of their) judgments about your life and see what happens … and if you should find yourself judging ~ seek to understand.

Understanding keeps the doorways of the heart and mind open; even when the doors of forgiveness (lack of) would closed them.

~~~~

… sorry – (forgive me if) this is sounding/come off as a lecture of sorts for I don’t mean to lecture ~ only to stop and lift the blows of judgments that have fallen upon (beating up) your mind.

[stilltrucking]

Father forgive us for what we must do
You forgive us we'll forgive you
We'll forgive each other till we both turn blue
Then we'll whistle and go fishing in heaven. -John Prine
http://www.cowboylyrics.com/lyrics/prin ... 10859.html

Sorry Deb I know you was not talking to me

Not sure I understand jimbloloco all the time, but I think I knew him when we were young, as if we were friends a long time ago and just met again by chance. I try to walk a mile in his shoes but I can't. He has so many dead friends.

We got to bring those soldiers home. We need them here. We need the trucks and equipment for the storm next time. Two thirds of the Lousiana National Guard's equipment is in Iraq. I got no answers. Unless the preachers are right, Bush is the one we been waiting for. Its the end times,


I get my theology from the Sunday Comics and country and western songs these days.


He was in heaven Before he died

There's a rainbow of babies
Draped over the graveyard
Where all the dead sailors
Wait for their brides
And the cold bitter snow
Has strangled each grassblade
Where the salt from their tears
Washed out with the tide

Chorus
And I smiled on the Wabash
The last time I passed it
Yes I gave her a wink
From the passenger side
And my foot fell asleep
As I swallowed my candy
Knowing he was in heaven
Before he died

The sun can play tricks
With your eyes on the highway
The moon can lay sideways
Till the ocean stands still
But a person can't tell
His best friend he loves him
Till time has stopped breathing
You're alone on the hill

Repeat Chorus:
john prine


Toby Kieth?
where the hell is john prine when we need him.

Good question

Because it is the news, because they have to have something to say between the commercials, man rapes nun escapes in flying saucer, details at six.

[whimsicaldeb]

Sorry Deb I know you was not talking to me

Not sure I understand jimbloloco all the time, but I think I knew him when we were young, as if we were friends a long time ago and just met again by chance. I try to walk a mile in his shoes but I can't. He has so many dead friends.

We got to bring those soldiers home. We need them here. We need the trucks and equipment for the storm next time. Two thirds of the Lousiana National Guard's equipment is in Iraq. I got no answers. Unless the preachers are right, Bush is the one we been waiting for. Its the end times, -- ST

It's okay ~ jump in anytime ST, I may have been saying it to Jimboloco, but it wasn't a private conversation, or thought at all.

Bring our soldiers home, yes.... I hope our military mutinies! Seriously. That all this grumbling by the generals creates mutiny, an in your face bush/cheney/rumsfeld mutiny!

If they've really sworn to uphold our constitution .... and not the agenda’s of a corrupt trinity … it’s the only honorable thing left.


“Apocalypse is not about a fiery Armageddon and salvation of a chosen few, but about the fact that our ignorance and our complacency are coming to an end.” ~ Joseph Campbell

[jimboloco]

Well it's true, yes I understand them, their sense of fronteir achievement in the transition to the modern era, a structured reality that was aghast at the breaking apart their value structure.

Fortunately, I did get my space and kept it for years, until I healed.
So the understanding is there and my goal is to transmit open hearted acceptance first to myself and then to otherz. Metta.

Did I ever forgive them, no I can honestly say that I haven't.
May they rest in peace.
I certainly never forgave LBJ, Nixon, Kissinger, McNamara, either.
But at least we got somewhere. Not very far, but the culture of dissent grew some roots.

Going to work tomorrow, the republickinz and the Dumbocratz, all my workmatez.

[stilltrucking]

For a heart stained in anger grows weak and grows bitter.
You become your own prisoner as you watch yourself sit there
wrapped up in a trap of your very own
chain of sorrow.

I can understand her, she lost her son, to lose a child, It dont it gets any worse for a mother.

she needed one thing to believe that this living is a hard way to go

You were just in the way of her pain, some one to blame.

I got no problem with the dead, they dont need foregiving.

But where there is life there is hope.

[jimboloco]

It's true.
I hadn't felt the pain for a long while.
She was on the Texas girls' state championship basketball team with her sister, Texas, '07 and '08. My goodness, when the Lady Techsters (La. Tech) basketball team went to the NCAA finals in the early eighties, I askerd her if she wanted to watch the game, but she was not interested. She started smoking Old Golds at age 40, had emphyzema. When she was in a nursing home, severely declined, near her daughter Mary Ann's house, I drew a copy of a pastel painting by Mary Cassatt, mum and kid, and put it up in her room. The last time I went to visit her, with other daughter Cynthia there, she looked like she wanted to express something, but I was unable to get close enough, and she gave up, just fell back, with Cynthia holding her hand.

Later, Cynthia told me she never wanted to hear from me again, and she died within a few short years after. Her older son, Drew, was always loving-kind, though, and when I told him about what Grandmother Truth had said to me, he stated something like she wasn't feeling well.

It was remarkable that at that age, mid-thirties, I had been doing rehab therapy at the vet center, was meditating at the Unitarian Buddhist group, still very wounded, and so, it was especially difficult, yetI passed thru there, healing, and in '87 split, after reconnecting with my anti-war roots. Found a dude via Mother Jones, writing a book on CO's in the military during the Nam War. Got into the book with my own testimony. Went to the Wall in DC, went to CCCO in Philly, then wound up in a mission in Ft Worth, laborer, then out to Phoenix, rising from the ashes, and hit the Bezerkely Zen Center, finally zooming around the country again and finally landing in old St Pete, slumming, laboring, March "88. Been here ever since. Gotta go pick up my step=son and carry him to work. Still doing Zen now with a steady group, met a dude at work Monday, a former Marine. He told me that he had gone back to Vietnam and went to this old monastery west of Danang, up the Perfume River, and the old abbott showed him the old Rambler that the Buddhist monk had driven from that monastery down to Saigon where he'd self-immolated, with instructions to return the car back to that monastery. It's stillthere, like Jack Kerouac's old '66 Chevy Impala, white, sitting inside his garage in his old house, holding vigil for be-bop prosidy poets and survivorz, like us.

Amen. Sorry, Grandma. Peace is at hand.

[stilltrucking]

I think we have a real live nephew of our Uncle Sam in the white house. I think we are watching him come apart. I think we are watching him implode or explode, I think he is crazier than I am. I think he will never fire Rumsfeld. I think his staff is busy as hell trying to hide his insanity from the American people. But you know it takes one to know one. I am probably the sickest one here. I think i need a little drinky cause I been thinky too much.

A good piece Jimboloco, you call it scribbling, I call it good writing, you must have attended the litkicks workshop on how to write fast, write clean, and i forgot what else he said.

The most powerful woman I everk knew was my mother's mother Eva Shapiro. She lived in an old house in Baltimore with all the modern conveniences of the 19th century. Wood stoves, and an out house, . where my uncles kept their comic books and a flashlight to read. When she finaly got an indoor crapper and tore the old out house down. she planted a fig tree right there. It was a miracle of the figs, it seemed like over night that tree grew sky high and loaded with figs. Her little back yard was my Eden. I can't get that tree out of mind. It will probably be my "Rosebud" one fine morning.

[Arcadia]

I know Rummy. So,who is Michael Brown in only one sentence?

[jimboloco]

Yank my doodle it's a dandy
yank my doodle do or die
yank my doodle went to town
riding on a pony
I am that yank my doodle guy

Brownie was fired as director of FEEMA the Federal Emergency and Evacuation Management Association or zumthing. he was a hired political crony, a former judge of caballos, hoorses. Inept, no puso hacer nada.

Rumsfeld is the same, only he thinks he is being strong because he has that kind of demanding mannerism, only it is really an authoritarian style, with little effective communication, only his micro-managing of the interrogation process, for instance, and his double-speak technique vis a vis his declaration that "you go to war with the army that you have." Meanwhile Condaleeza says stuff like, "We made tactical mistakes, but strategically we were correct." It's lo que dicen los cabrones cuando ellos son borachos con poder. What assholes say when they are drunk with power.

[e_dog]

M. Brown is the ex-chief of the U.S gov't agency responsible for emergency disaster relief, who was a scapegoat for the general governmental incompetence at the time of the Hurricane Katrina in New Orleans area when the real problem is lack of prior planning and investment of resources and preparedness by the administration as a whole, the prime guilt being that of G.W. Bush.

[jimboloco]

immolationBhuddistMonkQuicVanDocVietnam1963.

Don';t know if this is the same dude, this ain't a Rambler, looks more like a Peugot. Did this happen more than once? I thinkk it happened again later in the American War, as they called it.
I like planting trees in abandoned outhouse sites better.

Saw a Buddhist monk early in my tour,
we went on a tour a civics action tour, orf three schools outside Cam Ranh Bay, a civilian a Catholic and a Buddhist school. The only one that impressed me was the Buddhist school, or rather the monk headmaster. We were waiting in a bamboo building, one room about ten by 20 feet, 67 feet high, a woven bamboo hut. There was a long wooden table, a pitcher of lemonade, and a book at the end near the entryway door. Two little kids were peeking from outside the door, one little head above the other, and this monk walked in. He was alien to our virgin eyes. He had long nails and had his hands gently together in a prayerful pose, fingers interlaced. He had high cheekbones, shaved bald, a yellow ochre robe. we had brought him some money for the school. We were all sitting around the table. The guys were freaked. We were all armed, the pilots with 38 pistols and the seargeants with M-16's. There was loud artillery booming as the nearby Korean base was shooting up at the mountains to the west that encircled the bay and the building, table, and lemonade shook when the guns shot out. The monk was composed, yet also I could tell, aware that the situation was tenuous. I got up and walked over to him. I looked at the book. It had a map of Vietnam on it. He said to me in French, (will translate it later, am at work and my admission just got here) "Heografique Vietnamite. I said, geografica Vietnamita. we looked at one another and smiled. As we left, all the guys ran ount and piled into the truck. I stopped, turned, and the monk was looking at me smiling. I bowed and he bowed back.

Several years later, down and out in Detroit, I did a memory drawing of this for my art class and the teacher said, "That'sd wierd." Now I will redraw it asain and scan it up here, soon. Bows.

[Arcadia]

yeah, I remember the episode but I had forgotten the guy's name, thanks!.

[stilltrucking]

jimbo
He is the one, the first one, the one that brought the Diem government down.
http://www.geocities.com/tcartz/sacrifice.htm




The Self-Immolation of Thich Quang DucAfter his funeral, where his remains were finally reduced to ashes, Quang Duc's heart, which had not burned, was retrieved, enshrined, and treated as a sacred relic (Schecter 1967: 179).





paste from here
http://www.buddhismtoday.com/english/vi ... angduc.htm


From the small initial article on page three of the New York Times on 12 June that reported the death accompanied only by a photograph of a nearby protest that prevented a fire truck from reaching the scene, the story was briefly summarized and updated on page five the next day and then was moved to the lead story, on page one on 14 June 1963, accompanied by the following headline: "U.S. Warns South Vietnam on Demands of Buddhists: [South Vietnamese President] Diem is told he faces censure if he fails to satisfy religious grievances, many o which are called just." The story, no longer simply involving the actions of a lone Buddhist monk but now concerned with the official U.S. reaction, remained on page one for the following days, was reported in greater detail by Halberstam in the Sunday edition (16 June 1963), and was mentioned for the first time in an editorial column on 17 June 1963, one week after it occurred. By the autumn o that year, the images of either protesting or burning monks had appeared in a number of popular magazines, most notably Life Magazine (June, August, September, and November issues).



I remember the episode like it was yesterday. Diem the Catholic coming down hard on the Buddhists, almost like an inquisition. JFK thought it was bad, the CIA thought it was time for Diem to go. Very nice little coup and they murdered him. Then later Lee Harvey Oswald or Osama Bin Laden or maybe it was the Jews, or George Bush or some sinister plot and JFK was murdered, then later that year After JFK's murder Malcom X said the chickens are coming home to roost. I think he was refering to diem. I read it later that he thought the chickens coming home to roost was a good thing. A hope that things were going to change. Then he was murdered with the complicity of the FBI. Then I almost strangled my mother but something stopped me. The look on her face.
I been thinking of that ole Frank Sinatra song

It was a very good year
for the undertaker

Arcadia if you take Michael Brown's corrupt and incompetentence and multiply it by a thousand you have the state of our government. From the FDA, To THe EPA our government agencies are headed by hacks like Brown, Our enviormental laws are being overthrown, unsafe drugs are approved for use, the list goes on. They are raping and pillaging the usa.