The Collapse

[pan]

OK, I'm an idiot - how do you upload video?

Watch this

[Mouse]

Hmm, must say I took a look in and rushed off, terrible smell.

What a shame, was looking for somewhere to hang out away from the propaganda deluge here, which brings on nausea and chest pains.  Otherwise in fine fettle.

 

And speaking of vultures, in India there is something of a cataclysm unfolding due to their becoming somewhat scarce, alas.

[Cal]

That's exactly the bird Pan!  When I first saw it I thought it was a dilapidated sea gull. 

 

 

[BO]

I thought maybe it was our new country symbol--here in the US. Seems more appropriate than an Eagle.

[pan]

If we are going for non-native animals....why not the hyena?  Or better yet, the cane toad

[Mouse]

The propaganda deluge is not here, it is there, which is to say it is here.

 

And the vulture in question is exceedingly handsome for a vulture I think

[littleoldme]

I agree with Mouse, that's a handsome vulture.

[Cal]

He/she had a regal presence once I'd shifted out of 'strangely large & scruffy sea gull' mode.

 

Off to see lots of non-native animals tomorrow.  I survived the year at work so far - now taking a three week road trip to the Kruger Park (yes - again).  Hope my office is still my office when I get back but for three weeks I will put those thoughts as far out of mind as can be. 

 

Hope I see a hyeana or two.

 

[waldopaper]

Meant no offense to our animal friends!  Just referring to the text and trying to get out from under all the 911 agitprop. 

One of the things for depression is... err... buy a new knife.  Yeah, a knife knut.  This one's an itty bitty thing... got a couple a while back for the boyz round the house... and was so impressed with em... well... ya know?  sure as hell can't afford it... but it's kinda like buying a new hat.  gotta buncha those too.  So onto the net to see reviews of the stuff eye already got... and krappo... more depression... and several wasted days to find out (already knew it anyway) how so many wankers are arming themselves up to deal with zombie time. 

wal... makes sense... BUT... for all the deep knowledge and experience about "tactical" shit and all... the sense of "deep politik" is REALLY crude.  lots of military fetishism thrown in to boot... well- whaddya expect anyway.  lots of nebbishes "on deployment" or about to be... (factor out the usual percentage of adolescent posers an shit) dam- this does bode ill.  Apart from a self-lecture about consumerism vs. genuine introspection and meditation... really gotta think about the festering armed boiling pot this place is becoming. 

Really... all this bullshit about "the government" when there IS NO fucking "government," just a Punch and Judy Show to keep up the illusion that there is anything but the iron will of the OWNERS.  Watching the "republican debates" testing memes for the milling armed rabble is also depressing as shit. 

And any day now... afraid we're going to have to put our old dog down. 

 

[Cal]

Rough putting doggies down ... but better than the pain & indignity at a certain point.  Strength & love to you & doggy.  There's a special heaven for those guys & mine keep on looking after me.  Here's nice soppy email that made me cry ...

 

A Father, a Daughter and a Dog

- story by Catherine Moore



"Watch out! You nearly broad sided that car!" My father yelled at me. "Can't you do anything right?"

Those words hurt worse than blows. I turned my head toward the elderly man in the seat beside me, daring me to challenge him. A lump rose in my throat as I averted my eyes. I wasn't prepared for another battle.

"I saw the car, Dad . Please don't yell at me when I'm driving.."

My voice was measured and steady, sounding far calmer than I really felt.

Dad glared at me, then turned away and settled back. At home I left Dad in front of the television and went outside to collect my thoughts.... dark, heavy clouds hung in the air with a promise of rain. The rumble of distant thunder seemed to echo my inner turmoil. What could I do about him?

Dad had been a lumberjack in Washington and Oregon . He had enjoyed being outdoors and had reveled in pitting his strength against the forces of nature. He had entered grueling lumberjack competitions, and had placed often. The shelves in his house were filled with trophies that attested to his prowess.

The years marched on relentlessly. The first time he couldn't lift a heavy log, he joked about it; but later that same day I saw him outside alone, straining to lift it. He became irritable whenever anyone teased him about his advancing age, or when he couldn't do something he had done as a younger man.

Four days after his sixty-seventh birthday, he had a heart attack. An ambulance sped him to the hospital while a paramedic administered CPR to keep blood and oxygen flowing.

At the hospital, Dad was rushed into an operating room. He was lucky; he survived. But something inside Dad died. His zest for life was gone. He obstinately refused to follow doctor's orders. Suggestions and offers of help were turned aside with sarcasm and insults. The number of visitors thinned, then finally stopped altogether. Dad was left alone..

My husband, Dick, and I asked Dad to come live with us on our small farm. We hoped the fresh air and rustic atmosphere would help him adjust.

Within a week after he moved in, I regretted the invitation. It seemed nothing was satisfactory. He criticized everything I did. I became frustrated and moody. Soon I was taking my pent-up anger out on Dick. We began to bicker and argue.

Alarmed, Dick sought out our pastor and explained the situation. The clergyman set up weekly counseling appointments for us. At the close of each session he prayed, asking God to soothe Dad 's troubled mind.

But the months wore on and God was silent. Something had to be done and it was up to me to do it.

The next day I sat down with the phone book and methodically called each of the mental health clinics listed in the Yellow Pages. I explained my problem to each of the sympathetic voices that answered in vain.

Just when I was giving up hope, one of the voices suddenly exclaimed, "I just read something that might help you! Let me go get the article.."

I listened as she read. The article described a remarkable study done at a nursing home. All of the patients were under treatment for chronic depression. Yet their attitudes had improved dramatically when they were given responsibility for a dog.

I drove to the animal shelter that afternoon.. After I filled out a questionnaire, a uniformed officer led me to the kennels. The odor of disinfectant stung my nostrils as I moved down the row of pens. Each contained five to seven dogs. Long-haired dogs, curly-haired dogs, black dogs, spotted dogs all jumped up, trying to reach me. I studied

each one but rejected one after the other for various reasons too big, too small, too much hair. As I neared the last pen a dog in the shadows of the far corner struggled to his feet, walked to the front of the run and sat down. It was a pointer, one of the dog world's aristocrats. But this was a caricature of the breed.

Years had etched his face and muzzle with shades of gray. His hip bones jutted out in lopsided triangles. But it was his eyes that caught and held my attention. Calm and clear, they beheld me unwaveringly.

I pointed to the dog. "Can you tell me about him?" The officer looked, then shook his head in puzzlement. "He's a funny one. Appeared out of nowhere and sat in front of the gate. We brought him in, figuring someone would be right down to claim him. That was two weeks ago and we've heard nothing. His time is up tomorrow." He gestured helplessly.

As the words sank in I turned to the man in horror.. "You mean you're going to kill him?"

"Ma'am," he said gently, "that's our policy. We don't have room for every unclaimed dog."

I looked at the pointer again. The calm brown eyes awaited my decision. "I'll take him," I said. I drove home with the dog on the front seat beside me.. When I reached the house I honked the horn twice. I was helping my prize out of the car when Dad shuffled onto the front porch... "Ta-da! Look what I got for you, Dad !" I said excitedly.

Dad looked, then wrinkled his face in disgust. "If I had wanted a dog I would have gotten one. And I would have picked out a better specimen than that bag of bones. Keep it! I don't want it" Dad waved his arm scornfully and turned back toward the house.

Anger rose inside me. It squeezed together my throat muscles and pounded into my temples. "You'd better get used to him, Dad . He's staying!"

Dad ignored me.. "Did you hear me, Dad ?" I screamed. At those words Dad whirled angrily, his hands clenched at his sides, his eyes narrowed and blazing with hate. We stood glaring at each other like duelists, when suddenly the pointer pulled free from my grasp. He wobbled toward my dad and sat down in front of him. Then slowly, carefully, he raised his paw..

Dad 's lower jaw trembled as he stared at the uplifted paw Confusion replaced the anger in his eyes. The pointer waited patiently. Then Dad was on his knees hugging the animal.

It was the beginning of a warm and intimate friendship. Dad named the pointer Cheyenne . Together he and Cheyenne explored the community. They spent long hours walking down dusty lanes. They spent reflective moments on the banks of streams, angling for tasty trout. They even started to attend Sunday services together, Dad sitting in a pew and Cheyenne lying quietly at is feet.

Dad and Cheyenne were inseparable throughout the next three years.. Dad 's bitterness faded, and he and Cheyenne made many friends. Then late one night I was startled to feel Cheyenne 's cold nose burrowing through our bed covers. He had never before come into our bedroom at night.. I woke Dick, put on my robe and ran into my father's room. Dad lay in his bed, his face serene. But his spirit had left quietly sometime during the night.

Two days later my shock and grief deepened when I discovered Cheyennelying dead beside Dad 's bed. I wrapped his still form in the rag rug he had slept on. As Dick and I buried him near a favorite fishing hole, I silently thanked the dog for the help he had given me in restoring Dad 's peace of mind.

The morning of Dad 's funeral dawned overcast and dreary. This day looks like the way I feel, I thought, as I walked down the aisle to the pews reserved for family. I was surprised to see the many friends Dad and Cheyenne had made filling the church. The pastor began his eulogy. It was a tribute to both Dad and the dog who had changed his life.

And then the pastor turned to Hebrews 13:2. "Do not neglect to show hospitality to strangers, for by this some have entertained angels without knowing it."

"I've often thanked God for sending that angel," he said.

For me, the past dropped into place, completing a puzzle that I had not seen before: the sympathetic voice that had just read the right article... Cheyenne's unexpected appearance at the animal shelter. . ...his calm acceptance and complete devotion to my father. . and the proximity of their deaths. And suddenly I understood. I knew that God had answered my prayers after all.

Life is too short for drama or petty things, so laugh hard, love truly and forgive quickly. Live While You Are Alive. Forgive now those who made you cry. You might not get a second time.

[waldopaper]

Wooo... go back to the beginning of this thread... back in 07.  The financial turd didn't hit until 08. 

Here's a thing on Orlov's page telling you ye oughta git out while the gittin's good.  Prolly aint gonna be an option for me.  Dmitri outlines what's next.  Imagine the possibilities. 

Sustainable shrinkage. 

[waldopaper]

Movies in the mind
Computing a theory of everything. 
Women have worse nightmares

Let's simplify legal jargon!  

Is that haiku?  Is this tofu?  What we do do and dew knot?  There is a connection in the pot o boiling fractile universes.  Is it a "collapse" or a "transformation?"  Both and/or neither?  I say the state of language is now what alchemy was before it turned into chemistry.  Or eye jest be a fool to want another multi-tool. 

 

[waldopaper]

The Revolution is being Livestreamed.