A stunning breakthrough has scientists and historians scrambling to ascertain the nature of the Medieval Warming Period(MWP). Long marginalized by proponents of anthropomorphic global warming (AGW), scientists have now discovered new and convincing evidence that mankind was responsible for the MWP, allowing AGW believers to cast off the denial of the MWP.

Dr. Walker has unearthed in the climategate emails knowledge that has been suppressed by deniers of AGW, namely that there is a “scientific consensus in the deleted emails is that the Medieval Warm Period was a direct result of friction caused by European sword sharpening during the Crusades…so, still our fault.¹” The IPCC is scrambling to conduct research into various family lines, and the IPCC is petitioning the European Union and British governments for access to private data, to ascertain the possibility of a post-humus “sword tax.” Deniers are calling such claims heinous and absurd and a violation of privacy.

Unfortunately for them, Dr. Hover has unearth irrefutable evidence that must be accepted without question because of the Dr. placed strategically in front of his name:

The warming all started with the first evil knight/industrialist: George Herbert FitzBush. He was the main arms supplier of William the Bastard of Normandy. FitzBush denuded Normandy, and later much of England, of trees so he could make huge fires with which to forge his weapons of mass destruction; weapons used by William to invade and plunder the British Isles.²

Studies are now being conducted at the highest levels of the UN to determine the role the manufacture and sharpening of samurai swords and  Native American arrowheads may have played in the temperature increases that threatened the medieval world.

“It is long past time for the descendants of these destructive warmongering capitalists to pay, with interest, for the grievous sins of their great great great great great grandfathers.  Even now, draft amendments are being made to the UN’s Agenda 21 to account for these atrocities committed against Gaia. Those who are responsible for the Medieval Military Complex will not escape justice.” Said Dr. Voldemort, head of the UN Council for the Divestment of Wealth from Evil Capitalists. He continued “We are also launching studies into the effects the American Revolution and its gun-wielding zealots may have had on the MWP due to the excessive number of muskets and other guns, and the great many shots fired. Certainly these contributed to AGW.³ He dismissed claims by skeptics that the American Revolution occurred after the MWP as “absurd,” saying, “Those deniers will stop at nothing to further their evil capitalist gun-loving agenda.⁴“

1. Dr. Thomas, the Journal of Applied Environmental Historiological Phasing Science, as cited in social networking post, 12/23/09

2. Dr. Hover, the prestigious Environmental Journal of Climatic Pseudo-Academia, as cited in social networking post,12/24/09

3. The Environmental Encyclopedia of My Creative Intellect, Second Revised Edition, pg 2341, paragraph 3, sentence 5, 2009.

4. ibid, pg 4325, 2009.

Why do collective projects seem so impossible nowadays? Why do we seem to suspicious of our Governments? Why can we not act?

My parents’ generation saw their parents suffer at the mercy of belief. They had a good sense of what power breeds:

My mother was raised by a woman whose entire being was moulded by the power of belief, her life haunted by stories of gas, ovens and train rides into hell and then into hell. Do I blame my parents for looking with scepticism when the government declares its ‘subjects’ should reduce their wastes for the good of the country or the good of the nation-species? How can they believe without interrogation and spite? Can they believe at all?

The so-called ‘sovereign exception’ appears in the 1960s: an overflowing of that ’state of exception’ demonstrated by the counterculture: the excess of the drugs, the music, the culture: most importantly the standing apart from mainstream political communities, the adoption of alternative and so-called ‘communal’ ones or the quest to go ‘west’ and find oneself instead of tending the municipal and communal bond. Is it not coincidental then, that like Guantanimo, what has been engendered is a greedy brood of sovereigns?

Ah, the pastoral nature of ‘psychedelia’ betrays a radical excess. Where the “exuberance”, as Bataille called it, for the war in Vietnam was matched on the home front by an even greater exuberance – the infamous potlatch. Where the sanguine blood, red, beaming through the wires of the television screens for the first time is absorbed and transformed into the rainbow spectrum of neo-bohemianism.

What is swinging but love without end, orgasm without bounds. What are drugs but the radical manipulation of thinking, what is beat poetry but the vigorous vomiting of words – on all counts the culture set itself up and gorged itself. Hence, now the children of this culture are anorexic, obese, sick, and bent on shrinking themselves into binary.

We, children of the counterculture, need to recognize that the problems of the world demand a new consensus, not a new fragmentation and dispersion of ideas. Climate Change is the first major problem that is immune to politics. It doesn’t matter whether you’re Democrat or Republican, NDP or Conservative; everyone drowns. The Left feels free to blather on about everything being political; they’ll blather themselves to the grave. Maybe an issue like Climate Change can call us, children of the counterculture, to trust in a communal project, to work with each other, to not fear centralized authority – in the hope of building a better world.

We need to be a little less suspicious. Not uncritical, but less suspicious of the political project. Of politics. But how hard it is! We’ve been spoonfed crap like ‘South Park’ and ’Team America: World Police” that undermines the entire political idea, that causes a knee-jerk slide into total subjectivism. It’s like we’re caught up in some 14 year old’s existential crisis: ‘Like, wow man, so that means nobody’s right and nobody’s wrong! Pass the bong!” The problems we face require the ability – which is now in short supply – to be able to take a stand and work together.

This is the confusing legacy bequeathed to my generation: The impossibility of belief; insufferable agnosticism; atomization, individuality, apathy, lethargy, weakness. We can’t afford to become the sovereigns our parents were and continue to be…

———Cybject is only a thought experiment——————

This weekend I saw the recently released “ultimate collector’s edition” director’s cut of the Woodstock Movie (available on DVD and Blu-Ray). This was the third time I saw the movie; I originally saw it in the theater back in the late seventies, and then watched it on VHS sometime in the late 80s or early 90s. But the ultimate collector’s/director’s cut has about two hours of footage not featured in the theatrical release, including Jefferson Airplane, Grateful Dead, Creedence Clearwater Revival, plus additional footage from the Who and Jimi Hendrix.

Having been too young to go to Woodstock (I was 8 at the time, I suppose I could have gone if someone took me, but obviously, that didn’t happen), the movie has been the heart of my understanding of Woodstock. When I saw the movie in the 70s, it was like a revelation to me: my first real introduction to so many musicians I would come to love: Joan Baez, Crosby Stills & Nash, Arlo Guthrie, Janis Joplin, and of course Jimi Hendrix. Seeing it on VHS a decade or so later just anchored my sense that Woodstock was a watershed event, both artistically and socio-politically.

What a difference an extra twenty years makes.

Don’t get me wrong; I haven’t gone all right-wing in regard to Woodstock. But I think the perspectives of age, of being a veteran of plenty of Pagan gatherings, and of considering Ken Wilber’s critique of “boomeritis,” all have given me perhaps a more balanced view of the festival. Watching the movie this time, I was struck by a number of things I hadn’t noticed before. Kids jumping the fence to get in, before the concert was declared “free.” The arrogant idealism, that suggested hippies and stoners were really going to change the world. The almost total lack of non-white people (except on the stage, but even then, Sly Stone and Jimi Hendrix were the exceptions). The liberal use of completely gratuitous vulgar language (for example, the Intermission card read “Interf***ingmission”). The kindness and tolerance (for the most part) of the townspeople and neighbors, all of whom were massively inconvenienced by the event. The fact that the army, the national guard and others were flying in food and medical supplies — economic realities that never seemed to be factored in to the “Woodstock Nation’s” smug insistence that they had a better way of living than the society at large. And of course, the huge garbage-dump that Max Yasgur’s farm became at the end of the festival.

The key word here is balance. I still think the Vietnam war was a horrible misstep; it is impossible to understand the 60s counterculture without considering the draft and the absurdity of that war as key factors contributing to its rise. The Hog Farm giving away food and the innocence of the skinny-dippers and the mud-sliders are all sweet to consider, even now. And the overall peace and love vibe, naive though it may have been, still seems to me a far better orientation of the mind than the cynicism that has reigned in our country pretty much ever since a certain president from California broke the law (less than four years after Woodstock), an existential malaise that only deepened when another Californian was elected president in 1980.

So I’m writing all this not to say sour grapes on Woodstock, or on my own youthful idealism, but to ponder how we can re-envision some of that hopeful idealism and commitment to gently transforming the world… only without gate-crashing and ignoring the contribution of all the “squares”?

Now, as for the music. What really struck me is how young everybody looked. And they were young — most of the A-list rock and rollers I mentioned above were all in their 20s when performing at Woodstock. Grateful Dead’s Pigpen, Janis and Jimi were all fated to die within a few years. Roger Daltrey oozes eros, and Joan Baez, dignified and reserved, exudes a maternal warmth (she was pregnant at the time). Grace Slick looks exhausted (scheduled to take the stage hours earlier, Jefferson Airplane was up all night and played at dawn). The guitar playing is phenomenal, of course, with memorable performances from Pete  Townshend, Carlos Santana, Jorma Kaukonen, Jimi Hendrix (naturally) and Jerry Garcia (in an otherwise less-than-stellar 35-minute workout of “Turn on Your Lovelight”). Crosby, Stills & Nash and Arlo Guthrie were pretty sweet, and Joe Cocker — weird air-guitar-ish hand gestures on full display — was truly a joy to hear. John Sebastian was embarrassingly stoned. And on it goes. So if my sense of Woodstock’s politics may have changed with the passage of time, I remain as entranced as ever with the music, only now I am even more impressed because I see just how young those kids were when they played there. Really, really wonderful.

So watching the Woodstock movie again, I am reminded what the members of Grateful Dead used to say, impatiently, when journalists would ask them about the rampant drug use among their fans: “We’re about the music.” And I think Woodstock, far more than the politics of the anti-war movement or the idealism of the Hog Farm or the free love vibe of the hippies (which Hugh Hefner blatantly twisted to his own ends, as documented on the included bonus disc), is really all about the music. And what wonderful music it was.

One final gripe about the “ultimate collector’s edition” Blu-Ray and DVD: both come with all sorts of unnecessary extra packaging: an iron-on patch (as if we’re all still wearing denim jackets), a lucite paper-weight thingy, a mini-reproduction of the Life magazine that dealt with Woodstock, etc. What a waste. It reminds me of the stark ending of the movie, with its apocalyptic survey of the tons of left-behind garbage. Our generation really is pretty pathetic when it comes to paying lip service to environmental issues but then greedily consuming resources for the purpose of acquiring more disposable trinkets. I’m just saying.

Director – David E. Durston

Cast – Bhaskar Roy Chowdhury, Jadine Wong, Rhonda Fultz, George Patterson, Riley Mills, John Damon, Elizabeth Marner-Brooks, Richard Bowler, Tyde Kierney, Iris Brooks, Alex Mann

Release Year – 1970

Reviewed by John of the Dead

Thanks to a close buddy of mine and fellow horror aficionado(Trae of the Dead), I was able to view this 1970 cult classic.  This film is a fun ride from beginning to end.  We get lots of gore, cheesy dialogue, and an awesome soundtrack, all going along with some outlandish characters.  What more could you ask for?

This film follows a band of Satanist hippies who are forced to stay in a small town after their van breaks down.  Being the degenerates that they are, they terrorize the local townsfolk and eventually piss off a little kid after giving his grandfather LSD.  In an act of revenge, he doses their food with rabies from a rabid dog and soon enough they turn from a group of Satanist hippies to a group of murderous psychos with a desire to spill blood.  The virus is highly contagious, and with the number of infected growing at an alarming rate, it is up to the remaining townsfolk to fight off and kill the smelly hippies.  Yes, this is Eric Cartman’s wet dream.

Grindhouse Releasing put this film out on DVD, and has made a name for themselves putting out exploitation flicks on DVD.  Cannibal Holocaust and Cannibal Ferox are a few of the films these guys have put out and I really respect what they do for the horror scene.  These guys even secured the rights to show Evil Dead in 35mm at select theaters nationwide.  How awesome is that?!?

For starters, I really liked this film’s plot.  It wasn’t a complex plot, but he fact that it used psychotic hippies as the antagonists is just plain awesome.  No zombies, no badass manly bikers, just stereotypically “sissy” hippies as the villains.  I don’t know about you, but I like that idea.  It is a fresh breath in a genre with not too much room for creativity when it comes to antagonists.  I thought everything had been done already in this genre, but I guess NOT.

The writing and direction for this film is actually very well done for what it is.  This is a very low budget flick so don’t’ expect a high production value, yet writer/director David E. Durston did a lot with what he had.  Expect a lot of quick edits to make up for a lack of special effects, but don’t think that means this film skimps out on the gore.  It’s not as gory as some other exploitation flicks, but it offers enough of the “goods” to keep us gorehounds happy.  My biggest surprise with this was it’s awesome pacing.  I expected to be a bit bored at times given these types of films usually run on lack of budget and experience.  From beginning to end we are either given entertaining dialogue, deaths, or other types of nonsense spaced at just the right intervals to help this film flow awesomely

I had no big complaints with this film, but only because I looked past the horrendous acting.  I honestly feel it is the bad acting in these exploitation flicks that adds to the fun of them.  If you are too picky to look past these low budget elements then you will not come out of this film pleased.

Overall, this is an awesome exploitation flick that will be a fun watch to those who enjoy this type of filmmaking.  It has a unique villain, good gore, and the right amount of cheese to be a positive watch.  Give this a shot if you can find it.

Rating: 7/10

By 2000, one year after his arrival in Puerto Rico, my stepfather had a cadre of hippie like followers who clung to his indelible charisma and message of saving the world. With sense, sensibility and a touch of mysticism he aided individuals to gain an open path to college or a first home. Puerto Rico craves its witchcraft with equal affection to food. These individuals understand that spiritual comfort is a brute warrior against the cold winds of fate. “Together we can change the world” was such a hallmark saying for him that one attendee at his funeral had made a banner with these words exactly. He had expanded his pursuits to include opening a new age shop where he taught tarot, handed out spiritual remedies and sought communication with the angels. We became so used to his myriad interests: one day he announced that he was going to write a book about a phenomenally preoccupied monk who hired a chauffeur as he was too busy praying for others. This was his basal energy state, concern for someone else. I can just see him inadvertently inhaling cigarrette smoke sans food, thinking of someone else. Just the visual impression of him alone standing in the doorway of his shop one could imagine armies of souls pulling at his heartstrings. There was room in his heart for everyone on the planet if they could breathe through the smoke and the intensity of prayer to all known and unknown deities, all the listening armed forces of spiritual salvation. It had become impractical for me to assume that these all existed and played a role in every day life. Such is my role as a scientist to think like that. There is only room for reason and experimentation in my preoccupations. Or could it be…. no.

As I sit here thinking where to begin, I cannot help but notice a tremendous loss in perspective by new apostles of Climatology. Most supporters of the pseudo-religion are won with fear, outrage, and emotional manipulation. Often, an appeal to emotion blocks any chance for rational thought. For this reason, the facts surrounding the global warming phenomenon are forced to take a back seat to “settled science” and political agenda.

Make no mistake; the science does not support the claim. As I follow Climatology’s unusual development, a growing number of inconsistencies are cause for concern.  Most recently, Russia shares its side of the story:

“Analysts say Russian meteorological stations cover most of the country’s territory, and that the Hadley Center had used data submitted by only 25% of such stations in its reports.

Over 40% of Russian territory was not included in global-temperature calculations for some other reasons, rather than the lack of meteorological stations and observations.

The data of stations located in areas not listed in the Hadley Climate Research Unit Temperature UK (HadCRUT) survey often does not show any substantial warming in the late 20th century and the early 21st century.” (Taken from wattsupwiththat.com)

Winston Churchill explains: “A lie gets halfway around the world before the truth has a chance to get its pants on.” Finally, naked truth is getting on its pants. Interestingly enough hundreds of world leaders still gather in Copenhagen to discuss the regulation of carbon emissions.  Unfortunately for Obama and his climate cult, China seems to be dithering in their decision to board up the USS-Crazy.

To make matters worse, one of the harshest storms in recent history is making its way up the eastern coast of the United States. What upsets me most about the crusade is the message: act now or perish. Sound familiar? It should, the same tactic is being used to push a bogus health care bill through the Senate. Sadly, General Mcchrystal’s request for reinforcements remains a low priority.

So how far need the “bark bunch” skip down insanity lane before the rest of the world takes notice? Watch the following video and try not to laugh; these people are hurting…

The Earth First cult is moving out of the forest and into your child’s classroom. Remember the opposition of select schools in reciting America’s Pledge of Allegiance? There is a new pledge now:

“I pledge allegiance to the earth and all the life which it supports, one planet in our care, irreplaceable, with sustenance and respect for all.”

Similarly, children’s websites further the indoctrination of our Nation’s next generation. Let me share an example of how twisted information is shared with our young people:

“Planting trees is fun and a great way to reduce greenhouse gases. Trees absorb carbon dioxide, a greenhouse gas, from the air.”

Trees absorb carbon dioxide, a greenhouse gas? Well, trees produce oxygen (which we enjoy breathing) and trees need carbon dioxide to breathe; a more accurate version of the lifecycle. The church of Climatology is spinning out of control. Lies, deception, and junk science now contribute to the biggest hoax in our nation’s young history. Finally, I want to add, I am an avid fly-fisherman; hiker and outdoorsman and love clean air, pure water and nature. Let’s maintain some perspective in the fight to unearth the largest financial cover-up our Government has yet to attempt.

(A special P.S. to “Earth First”: the trees can’t hear you…lucky for them. Enjoy this bonus VIDEO. You inspired it.)

I’m watching Zeitgeist: Addendum (link opens a video), and it is mildly frightening. Not because I believe it, but because it’s frightening that there are people who think like this. So far, the Zeitgeist people have said:

- All money is debt (and this has various implications, discussed in detail).

- The monetary system is inherently corrupt.

- Religions and other institutions are dangerous and based on lies.

- Some people are (inexplicably) evil and control the world, and everyone else is a sheep blindly following the evil ones. Somehow, the stated goal of corporations to make profit manages to alter corporate people’s psychological make-up in such fundamental ways that they become strange alien creatures with no emotions. Never mind the fact that we have no evidence whatsoever of this (i.e. we have no evidence that all people working as owners of or managers in corporations are suffering from psychopathy, which can be proven by psychological testing, for example), what matters is that we need a powerful Evil Entity, and they seem to serve that purpose.

- Technology will save us! Technology is the Messiah. Once we have the new awesome technology awaiting us, we will no longer have: crime, neurosis, sickness, imprisonment, war, hunger, the need for jobs or environmental damage. I’m guessing they probably think that death and unhappiness will be erased too.

- If we merely realize that we are interdependent, then everyone will be filled with unconditional love. We depend on oxygen and other such things, and everything in the Universe is interconnected — in the boring, physical sense of the word. Somehow the abstract recognition of this obvious ecological fact will lead to a fundamental psychological and spiritual transformation that will amount to nothing more than the complete erasure of all limitations in human love and generosity. Who needs spiritual transformation when you can have thinking-about-ecology!

The major, overarching problem with the whole Zeitgeist approach is that it is materialistic and vital. By denying a transcendental reality beyond nature, they are rendering themselves incapable of the spiritual experience and knowledge necessary to accomplish that which they claim to want, which matter alone can never fulfill. The fundamental flaw in materialism is that it is idolatrous: it grants power and ultimate-ness to temporal, conditioned and Inconscient matter. The materialist view is purely horizontal rather than a mix of horizontal and vertical, which is the ideal spiritual view. Furthermore, the psychic being/soul leads to a different kind of love and compassion than the cold, forced ‘community’ of the social engineer/instructed philanthropist. It is spontaneous (thus not related to self-instruction or resolution, as with the default underdog-sympathy of the Leftist), not dependent on external conditions, non-mental, warm, individualistic, Heavenly, devoted, child-like, acutely theistic and non-moralistic. Or at least, this is what I’ve experienced, though I’m sure many others will concur.

They have also committed the pre/trans fallacy, in their conception of ‘unity’. There are two kinds of unity: one is the pre-rational unity that exists when there is no individual conscious awareness. This is a unity in darkness or Inconscience. The urge for such ‘oneness with nature’ or ‘unity’ is actually the urge to be negated, i.e. it is driven by existential regret. Lacking in such a Universe of ‘unity’ is an effective, goal-accomplishing individual, and an individual point of consciousness or soul.

Then there is trans-rational unity. In such states there is an individual consciousness or soul, but all the more freedom, efficacy, awareness and love. A person’s dependence on the ecosystem actually reduces as their level of consciousness rises. I find that in order to bring out the truly loving being within us — i.e. the soul — we have to at least attempt to overcome existential angst, cowardice and regret. We need to stop feeling so abandoned as to feel the need to decompose into the matter around us. And yes, we do need to believe in God.

Seriously. The next time a hippie pagan talks to me about how we need to have oneness with nature, I’m going to shoot them with my Jesus gun. Just kidding, I would never name my gun that. Plus I wouldn’t shoot the hippies: I’d just boycott their organic, vegan, hemp co-op and go to Walmart instead .

A cold front approaches. It’s another gray day, everything looks bland. 
The cranes came , did a rain dance. We are in need of moisture.  The heron was MIA in her nest for 4 hours, maybe she was fishing.   The nest is filling out slowly.
She did come back in early afternoon.  A pair of ibis came foraging for food.
and a pied-billed grebe came by and dove under the water when he saw me.   They are funny looking.

I tried my hand at macro, but wind was blowing and the focus was almost impossible. But did get a few pics in to show.  So here’s a few…

Someone told me that those are some sort of beetles mating and not lady bugs.
Ringo the heron and I fished,    but the wind was whipping and the drizzling rain was getting cold and miserable, so I had to come in.  The heron was in her nest and it was waving in the wind.   Ringo came to the back door and decided to come in and dry off.
Right now Frankie is in my lap and my legs have lost all circulation,    ugh, I must get up and move.   Oh, I was looking at my match holder and realized I must get a chimney sweep to clean out  the fireplace.   For now, that’s it, and I’m sending a rose to Tabbie to let her know I am thinking about her and hope she is feeling better.
And here’s a video from Tampa, a bit shaky, but hope you enjoy anyway…     

Interesting article from the Mail Tribune in Medford, OR:

“A bill introduced Wednesday that would restore jobs and protect old growth in Eastern Oregon is being hailed as breaking new ground in the decades-long debate over logging in the Northwest, garnering support from the timber industry and environmentalists alike.”

“The bill, introduced Wednesday by Sen. Ron Wyden, D-Ore., authorizes an extra $50 million for the Forest Service to shift its focus to large-scale forest restoration projects, tripling the number of acres thinned over the next three years on six national forests in Eastern Oregon.

It also bars logging most large trees and along streams, limits road building, and streamlines the process for lodging environmental objections to projects.”

The bill, known as the Oregon Eastside Forests Restoration, Old Growth Protection and Jobs Act, got the nod from both timber industry reps and conservationists. It’s really a great piece of work…you can read the full bill here.

It represents months of intellectually honest negotiations from groups that have been diametrically opposed for decades but who truly wanted to get something done, as opposed to months of “negotiations” among moderate Republicans and conservative Democrats regarding the failed health care reform effort where none involved really, truly wanted reform. If tree-huggers and tree killers can come together to make progress on a problem that all sides recognize needs addressing, you’d think it would be easy for elected representatives to do the same thing regarding health care reform, but again, I digress…

If you’ve ever been to eastern Oregon and driven through some forestland out there, you’ll know that the forests are not all that healthy. In many places (strikingly evident when looking out the window for miles at a time while driving through) the land is ridiculously overcrowded with small trees, to the point that wildfires represent a huge economic and safety risk for surrounding communities. It’s not pretty. In mid-summer, it’s easy to envision the inevitable fires roaring through, wreaking havoc and destroying swaths of forest as far as the eye can see. It’s basically a tinderbox, and thinning it would not only remove the wildfire fuels but also put people to work in areas that have been economically depressed for decades and are currently seeing unemployment rates that boggle the mind.

This bill allows for that, while at the same time protecting the larger trees and nearby rivers and streams that are so important for creating wildlife habitat and a healthy, functioning ecosystem.

This bill is proof that progress can be made, even on the most contentious of issues. It’s also good economic policy for a state that is reeling from the housing bust and associated recession, and reflects a Senator who keeps the needs of his constituents at the forefront of his work.

Big kudos to Senator Wyden. Now, let’s just hope it gets passed.

Your sibling went off to college and came back with ideals. Even though they no longer celebrate Christmas as part of their stance against our consumer culture, you still drew their name for Secret Santa. Here’s a guide for when you’re shopping for a vegan-friendly, fair-trade anti-war shirt with a semi-ironic statement that’ll look good with their organic cotton skinny jeans.

At least they didn’t join a cult.

I had to pick up Hendrix  today from 55 West downtown where he had hung in a model rental, and it rented so Jimi had no further service.  Anyone need a Hendrix photo?  And since I had to go downtown, I decided I would make a few stops along the way, one was at Borders in Winter Park where the Animal Welfare Alliance was wrapping holiday gifts for donations, I was eager to help and dropped off wrapping paper and bows. Gail Nagan is trying hard to get her dream of the low cost spay and neuter clinic realized and she is making all efforts to fund it, so if you need something wrapped or would like to volunteer to gift wrap, please call her, (407-462-2320 )  — she would love the help.  But of course, I am out of sequence, first I stopped off in Casselberry.   Went to Casselberry Art House and WOW, I was not prepared for how it has morphed since last time I visited!  They have revamped the whole space around it into a absolutely ‘bucolic’ – peacful space!  The street Melody has been sealed off so you must turn on Triplet.  The Art House itself remains the same in it’s arty-ambiance. Linda, the Recreation Coordinator was getting it ready for an art exhibit.  It looked interesting.  I didn’t take photos on the inside only because I was not sure how their artists would react. But, here’s photos of the new outside. 

Look at all the crows!   And my favorite spot, the wonderful fountain!    
The jets go in several sequences and you could take a lap top and sit and reel off that novel you have been wanting to write, but your brain is in blocked mode. Or read a book — this setting over looking the lake and the wonderful boardwalk will help relax you!  This really added to their city hall.  They have concerts and art shows, go to their website, the Art House offers art lessons and other types of classes too. They have a seniors group that also meets, call 407-262-7700
for more info or go to their site, www.casselberry.org or cut and paste

http://www.casselberry.org/index.aspx?nid=338

It was after that , that I went to Borders and I also got an assiago pretzel, not that great.
Then I figured I would stop to see what was new at the Comma, Karen had sent out notices about her latest exhibit,  “4 The Birds” – I missed the reception, they even had live birds from the Orange County Audubon Society!  When I parked, there was a window with ‘day of the dead’ figures.

I walked in the back door of Comma and felt like I always do,  that I am in a first class art gallery! And Karen comes out and always greets ’silly old me’ as if I am a paying customer. She has always been a great teacher about the people and techniques and pieces she has on the walls and on display.  She told me I had to photograph the t-shirt I was wearing and call it “Something”, so here’s my shirt –   Yep, that shirt is a trick, a ploy to divert the eyes and keep them focused upwards and not at my chubby Jewish thighs!  The shirt as you notice has two tigers in strategic placement.  It is a shirt you see coming at you.  But I always wear shirts with something visual, many times with something to read,  like Dr. Suess - 
but that’s another blog and neurosis folded in my t-shirt drawer!
And here’s a tour of Comma Art Gallery:

The glasswork by Duncan McClellan, his color and usage of design were truly beautiful.   Love the swans.  My favorite was a collage and stitched piece of a women and a crow.   There is always unique jewelry and the same with the artwork.
Grady Kimsey is totally awesome.  Karen’s painting is always fresh and inspiring.  She’s very diverse!
Patrick McGrath Muniz has an astounding icon view of art, it’s ironic and totally eye consuming, you really have to look at the detailing of his art.  You must venture down to 813 Virginia Dr. and see the art work.  Hey, I can’t show everything, I want you to go have a look. And if you are an artist, there is gallery space available, e-mail Karen at  commagallery@gmail.com   She runs an internationally known gallery and will be glad to fill you in.    http://www.commagallery.com
I  enjoyed my visit there, but knew Jimi was waiting. I bid Karen ‘adieu’ and moved on to Orange Avenue. I  hate driving the one way, narrow  streets of downtown. I parked and walked several blocks to new 55 West condos that did not sell as condos, but as rentals, they rent out briskly.  I walked in and asked for  Jimi Hendrix, the ‘concierge’ guy seemed rather uppity! Hey desk guy, get over yourself, in the dictionary your job title is only a fancy French name for a front desk watcher/janitor.
Jimi and I marched back with 9 minutes left on the parking meter.  I played “the Wind Cries Mary” and “Little Wing”, (my song to myself) over and over as we traveled down Rosilyn onto the east I-4 ramp and off we cruised to our Sanford exit.
I didn’t go right home,  there was that one stop at Giovannis for eggplant parmigiana,  (Pam, I just couldn’t wait for a visit to Brio.)  Jimi waited politely in the car.
Giovannis’ garlic rolls are the best, I love Italian food and pasta, (too much) it all fits in with the  strategy of  wearing flashy, eye grabbing, catchy t-shirts.  I bet Finola Hughes would grab me off the street for a fashion makeover, Heidi Klum would recoil in horror looking at my wardrobe choices, while Wendy Williams might burn my shirts with her lighter as she does with beef jerky— Please, don’t tell any of them where I live…

Herman:  It’s a miniature version of the A-Bomb. 

The government built it in the fifties to drop on beatniks.
[Homer imagines a beatnik on the grass with a bongo]
Beatnik: Radiant cool, crazy nightmare
         Zen New Jersey nowhere…
[A group of beatniks snap their fingers in time]
[Homer flies overhead in a plane]
Homer: Put this in your pipe and smoke it!
[Presses a button, but the A-Bomb doesn't fall]
Beatnik: How now, brown bureaucrat?

 I was swept into Rishikesh amongst a torrent of orange T-shirt clad Hindu pilgrims. I had finally arrived at the yoga capital of the world and what was considered by many to be a crucial stop along the hippie trail. I was here in search of the laid back simplicity espoused by so many counter-cultural hipsters around the world. Unfortunately for me, I had arrived in Rishikesh during the yearly Kanwar Mela (Monsoon festival) and the crush of 300,000 Hindus greeted me as I stepped off the bus. In true hippie fashion, I had arrived in the city with no plan and no idea where to begin my exploration. In the words of Ned Flanders beatnik father, I had tried nothing, and I was all out of ideas.

 My guide had managed to secure me a small hovel in the basement of one of the local ashrams (yoga/meditation school) that lined the banks of the sacred Ganges River. The ashrams, I discovered, offered both lodging and enlightenment…for a fee. A refrain that, I was to discover, accompanied all spiritual experiences in India.

Among my current travelling companions was a middle-aged woman, who, in her younger years, had travelled extensively across India. In the week previous she had regaled me with tales of the India of old; a country that lacked tourist infrastructure but welcomed guests; a country that was willing to guide any interested pilgrim along the path towards enlightenment… with the help of a little LSD. Now, thirty years later, she had returned with her daughter in search of the same feelings, experiences, and places she had once known. Her desire, I think, was to instil in her daughter the timeless values of the hippie lifestyle (whatever those were). Alas, she would not succeed in her task.

The next morning, I emerged, bleary eyed, from my monastic cell to partake in some mind-expanding, body twisting, yoga lessons. The lessons were relatively expensive (about $10/hour), especially for those seeking simplicity apart from material concerns. At the end of the hour, while I felt awake but no closer to enlightenment; my travelling companion was downright dissatisfied at both the cost and the outcome—or lack thereof. So we paid our exorbitant bill for the one hour session, with promises from the instructor that tomorrow’s session would continue to bring us closer to enlightenment…for the same fee.

 With that, and no real plan to guide me, I set off to walk a mile in a hippie’s shoes—or sandals I suppose—in an effort to discover other avenues of enlightenment wrought from simple living, meditation, and hair growth. After several uninspiring stops, I arrived at the ashram of Maharishi Mahesh Yogi—celebrity meditation instructor to the Beatles in the late ‘60s and an inextricable part of the countercultural hippie movement. However, as I discovered, that nonconformist utopia now lay in ruins, having been abandoned for many years after a sex scandal involving the Maharishi. Although it’s now closed to the public, greasing the palm of the gate-keeper with a few rupees will almost guarantee entry. Looking upon the dilapidated mess, I immediately felt that this ashram might epitomize my entire enlightenment excursion. My hippie travelling companion and I were several decades too late, the hippie era had been abandoned and had fallen into disrepair. The buildings here had mostly collapsed, the pathways overgrown, the meditation huts were full of liquor bottles and broken glass, and the famous Beatles room was most certainly decorated and painted long after the departure of the Fab Four. If enlightenment was available in Rishikesh, it certainly wasn’t here.

Departing the ashram, I stopped along the banks of the Ganges to procure myself a vial of sacred water (a river so heavily polluted that it has been deemed septic—no dissolved oxygen exists), the purpose of every Hindu pilgrims stop in Rishikesh (they keep the vials in their homes to procure blessings from Lord Shiva), and, with a deep breath, I dove back into the crowd for the two-hour, 600m walk back to the hotel, wondering if anyone has ever found enlightenment amidst those oppressive throngs of humanity.

After several days in Rishikesh, the confusion and dismay of my traveling companion was obvious. India had changed, and not for the better. What I had realized days previous, and what she was unwilling to realize, was that her idealized India, the India she wanted to show her daughter; her enlightening (and cheap) yoga sessions, her mind-expanding meditation moments, her enjoyment of the Beatles White album, almost certainly did not exist anymore… it might not have even existed thirty years ago. The problem for former hippies seeking to relive the glory days, I would wager, is that their countercultural experiences have, for my generation, become regular cultural experiences, just packaged and sold to us at a premium. A commoditisation of spirituality that has robbed India of its hippie essence, replaced with a bastardized capitalist interpretation. Unfortunately, enlightenment in India is no longer something sought, it’s something bought.

Well I have always wanted to wear a tutu……hah maybe not but it is my favorite picture at the moment. And Jim Carrey is amazing and I could praise him all day. But on to more important issues………HIPPIES!

       Ahh yes the hippies not to be confused with the hipsters, I had a sociology exam today and we have desks and something pops up on my desk that I have never ever seen before, It says “Lucy In The Sky With Diamonds” and it has like a cloud under and a peace sign next to it. Well I know that this is a Beatles song and I am a fan of the Beatles, who isn’t. It just pains me when I see graffiti like that on desks, I mean it reminds me of freakin’ high school when all the stoners would draw pot leaves all over the desks and we had a Doobie Doodler on our hands. I mean if they are practicing art they need to draw more complex things or maybe abstract because thats where the industry seems to be going. But no they draw a leaf that is a drug and they write 4:20.

     What does that even mean 4:20 I think it is just another excuse for yet an otherwise mindless yuppie to have an excuse to smoke pot, I say what ever helps you sleep at night bitch. We have people that want marijuana legalized, it helps free the mind man and its better for you than tobacco. But I say this does tobacco make you so delusional and out of sorts that you drive your car and possibly kill people or worse puppies. And to me it sounds that they are just settling for the easiest, the one where it won’t take much to get it legalized (It must be a side effect of the pot, lethargic behavior) Why don’t you shoot for something bigger and better, because we both know it will never happen. so shoot for the stars, and legalize LSD atleast when you are on it and protesting you can see a pretty sight and not just get hungry and eat your signs that have misspelled words on them. Also a bonus is that your signs would look groovy some would say.

     Oh and for all the people that are like marijuana is legal now man this so awesome. I remember the reaction of the stoners at my school, so excited. Poor poor uninformed kids they didn’t know what medicinal meant, even though it had the root word in it. They didn’t know you actually had to have something wrong with you to get it and even then it was scarce. You can’t expect to get if you’re just trying to be cool or just have an addiction. I think the public schools should really try harder because these poor kids didn’t even know what medicinal meant. What else do they lack the knowledge? AND WE CALL THEM OUR FUTURE,FOR SHAME AMERICA FOR SHAME.

In 1968, Big Brother and the Holding Company (featuring Janis Joplin) covered the Moondog(?) song “All is Loneliness”. Below are the some of the lyrics:

“I come home there’s nothing
Nothing, man, there’s no animals moving,
There’s nothing, man.”

I noted, albeit briefly in an earlier post [Legacy of the Counterculture 1: Be careful what you wish for...] that something dark lurks in the shadows of the 60’s counterculture – something whose contours, and legacy, are now becoming visible. This is eerily accompanied by a longing for quiescence, for homeostasis, for the Garden of Eden – for a return to paradise. All of this, of course, smacks of Freud’s concept of the DEATH DRIVE.

Recall, the lyrics of the Joni Mitchell song ‘Woodstock’: “We are stardust / We are golden / And we’ve got to get ourselves / Back to the garden”.

For Freud, Thanatos, or the Death Instinct, represents the compulsion for all living things to return to an inorganic/inanimate state. You might want to look at Freud’s Beyond the Pleasure Principle. Can we not hear Janis and Joni sensing the same thing: “We are stardust / We are golden” and “There’s nothing. Nothing, man, there’s no animals moving.”? Quietude, stasis, and the obliteration of the human in favor of something more ‘cosmic’ , fundamental and elemental: “Golden Stardust”.

The counterculture wanted, desperately wanted, something Real. It wanted to eliminate its alienation and live in immediacy with the natural world and one another. That psychedelic drugs played such an important role in the counterculture is no co-incidence. That acoustic-pastoral sounding folk music had a rennaissance is no co-incidence either.

One lesson that the counterculture never learned is found in the Ken Russell film Altered States.

In the film, the protagonist-scientist refuses to acknowledge his wife’s ‘human’ emotions, or need for love; regarding them as Symbolic impositions on the immediacy of the world. But at the end of the film, the protagonist-scientist nearly falls into the Real itself (the TV/big bang snow) and requires the Symbolic word “love” to bring him back from the edge. Love is an imposition we make on the world – it is not a matter of clearing alienation away to find some primordial love…  Thus, it is no coincidence that the countercultural “love” commingles with “nothing man, there’s no animals moving, there’s nothing man” and the desire to become “golden stardust”. The love we find here is the cosmic love that the protagonist of Altered States experiences or returning to an inorganic/inanimate state, but it is not the human love that allows an individual to live in a community with his/her peers, or establish a symbolic/shared space.

And for that reason, the discovered Beatles song “Real Love” takes on a strange new dimension.

—–…..Cybject is nothing more than a thought experiment–.—…-..

This may be a little disconnected in places, but if I was a pro, this wouldnt be a free site, so deal with it.
Every year at this time, we are costantly reminded that not all Americans are Christians. Boo Hoo. Do they expect us to stop believing the way we do, and stop celebrating what we percieve as the birth of our Lord and Savior to accomodate them? I think they do.
I mean, they want us to pay for their health care, groceries, fatherless children, and possibly their abortions, so why shouldnt we give them everything they ask for. Lets make sure the poor downtrodden hippies have enough sugar on their cereal every morning, shall we. As a matter of fact, I have decided to walk in their shoes for a fleeting, and miserable moment. I like sugar on my cereal too.
I am also offended. I am offended by people and organizations, who, by being offended, take it upon themselves to dictate the behavior of others in order to assuage their feelings of …. Being left out, or feeling inadequete, or …..? I find that being offended, within itself is offensive.
I call bullshit. Being offended is a manifestation of intolerance, ( oddly enough, something conservatives and christians are accused of most ).
My advice to these fine Americans is simple. GET OVER IT.
Christmas is a celebration of what we percieve to be the birth of JESUS CHRIST, our Lord and Savior, not Sam Walton or the fine folks at CitiBank.
We will celebrate our traditions wether youlike it or not, and dont you DARE try to stop us. You are free not to participate, or even start your own, but if you dont like whats under our tree, keep your runny little offended nose out of it.
We have no responsibility to ensure your well being or happiness, other than what our commitment to the teachings of Christ tell us we have, and those are of our own discretion. Dont complain when the hand that feeds you gets tired of being bitten, and you have to put yor own sugar on your own damn cereal.

This morning we had quite a fog. The night before we had a clear look at the meteor shower and I saw a good amount of gorgeous mini looking comets, it was beautiful to watch. Stayed up till 3am, then woke up and the fog swallowed the lake.  The herons, both male and female were clanking their beaks together.
They seemed real lovey-dovey.   I found it to be a good time to try my hand at some macro photography. I tried with 4 different lenses and had a hard time, but looking through my lens at spider webs was just over-whelming, the webs looked like crystal beads.  Here’s some pics.
There were webs everywhere, and I had 4 different magnifications, so I was all over using different settings. I need a mentor standing beside me. 

The plants and a few bugs were on the plants. I tried to get them, but have no tripod to keep me steady, it is tedious trying to stay still and focus on the details.

The cranes were in full mating mode – they have totally ditched the baby and now only have each other and are enjoying each other. 
They were goofy and looking for trouble. They tried Ringo,   and even Frankie.   I tried to get close to the males silly face.   
It was a good morning and took all day till the sun came shining through.   I did a few abb-strax.  And came out to see the heron take off.

And that was it for the morning, then I left to run errands, get some shopping done and come back in time to fish with the heron and Ringo. It turned out to be in the 80’s and we had sunshine.  Fishing was not great, but that’s okay with me.
Hope your day went well, you can see, there’s hardly a dull animal moment around here…

I’m just kidding about the gourmet food, it was Mickey D’s, but the sidewalks were busy in the city…or at least at the shopping plazas today. Didn’t get much…3 bottles of nail polish, a present for my youngest niece and oh yes how could i forget- candy. I wanted to visit my Gram and Pappy but they were out shopping and had a pretty busy evening planned so we browsed the stores for things we neither needed or wanted and waited till my sister-in-law got home so we could OOOOOH and AAAAH over pictures of my daughter and niece (Photo studios have this neat magic flash that automatically hides their little devil horns and makes them look like precious angels. Our unsuspecting friends and relatives are none the wiser…except those who are with us on a regular basis. They know, oh boy do they know!). That ended up being a short trip because we were all not feeling well from the food, so my husband ran in and got the pics and we headed home. That was the end of my evening. The beginning of my day went a little like this:

Moosker: “Mommy do you know what happened to the chipmunks parents?” (Alvin, Simon and Theodore)
Me: “No sweetie what happened to them?”
Moosker: “They were hippies and joined a commune”

Short-term goal number one. Organize and rotate Moosker’s movies. Apparently she’s watching too much chipmunks.

Good night everyone!

I can do everything through him who gives me strength. Phil 4:13

I have been privileged to witness and be apart of what is known as the “Hippie Culture”. Now, I would like to express my opinion of what it means to be “HIPPIEFIED”. In the beginning, the mission of hippie culture was to spread the message of peace, love,  justice, respect, equality, responsible stewardship of the planet earth, freedom from bondage, freedom of speech/expression and very important to all of these principles was the idea of free and critical thinking. We gave ourselves lessons in civility. Our heroes were as varied as the faces we came with and places we represented. We actually thought we should do right by one another. We thought the world was tired of the wrongs committed, we did not have all the right answers, but we really thought we would change the world for the better. We were tired of being polarized and separated, we no longer wanted the hidden caste system that our society held in place. Segregation, discrimination, the raping pillaging of global resources and sexism were offensive to us. We were too naive, too innocent, and we forgot that one very reliable way to destroy wonderful ideas and the people willing to implement them is to seduce them with drugs, alcohol and sex. Unfortunately, the infiltration of the “Drug Culture” took it’s toll on the message and purpose of the hippie very much like the drug called “Crack” has infiltrated and de-moralized the Black Community. Or if you would allow me, to say that the drug “Meth” has devastated many in the white community. Today, many other addictions (like prescription drugs) are doing what it takes to bring yet another entire generation to it’s knees. What I am saying is this: Drugs, Greed, Violence and Perversion was NOT the original plan or purpose of the hippie. But time has shown us that all it takes is for a generation to die off and when left in the wrong hands history re-writes itself. When things began to fall apart, many hippies threw their hands up and became corporate giants or something, anything but a hippie. Alas, we traded in our Afros and long hair, we swapped out everything in our closets for something with a name attached to it. We joined the PTA and searched the airwaves daily trying to find a radio station that still loved us enough to play the songs that made us greater than we knew. We still mourn our dead and defend our heroes with the passion of a true loved one. I look around me today realizing that the ideas mentioned in my second paragraph were far too strong to die and today there are still many who hold onto the dream.

Today we say things like “Live simply so that others may simply live.”

Today we commit “Random acts of kindness.”

Today we still say “GIVE PEACE A CHANCE.”

Where are the hippies today? I’M RIGHT HERE!

This is my humble opinion (And thank God I can still have one!) of what it means to be a Hippie.

Peace, WoodStockGranny

Join us at our website! www.woodstockgranny.com

WoodStockGranny & Friends

Alternative News, Interesting Interviews, Life Affirming Conversations, Controversy and lots more.
WSG Freedom TV shines the light on topics that include:
Nature, Conservation, Healthy Living, Theatre, Music, Comedy and empowering our communities via all of these medias.

To watch the show go to:

www.woodstockgranny.blip.tv

Title: Bionic Hippy

Author: defgav

Platform: NES

Information:
Graphics & text hack of Bionic Commando. Rad has been replaced with some sort of bohemian longhair.

DOWNLOAD

Forgot to shout out a Happy Hanukah to the other tribe members.
Made my way back from Tampa, weather was very gray and cold until today.  I had a great time though.  I miss Sasha,  and little Bella,
and the kids. We checked the market over there, wow, great home buying opportunities!  Maybe for me???
These are some of the photos I took.

Aaron’s 250 gallon tank only has 3 fish at this time, the big puffer, lion fish and small clown.  The salt water tank is hard to maintain, he might sell the fish and go fresh water, he loves oscar and pacu fish.
The weather as I mentioned was weird, a cold front came through and the winds coming from the northeast off the lake were intense and felt so cold.  The sky was mostly dull the whole time until today.   It was gray and dreary.  When I left this morning, it was sunny and warm again.   I only got off at 4 stops on the way back, traffic was not even that bad.   I stopped at lakeland to get some fries and found a little bookstore called Mary’s. It even had women’s hats.  On the way back, it’s always good to see the outline of downtown.  
I had to stop on Washington St. at RT Art and pick up my photos that were made.
you notice I made them bigger than the others, that’s marketing. As always, Roger and Trish do terrific work, and their dogs are adorable and posed for me too.   They were awesome subjects!
Finally I got home and the sky became totally overcast. I did fish with the heron female on the nest, she flew down and got a few treats. The cranes did a dance, they seemed glad to have me back.  I’m back in the cave, now to get working on my spring crow exhibition and also send a few pics over for the Gateway next month.
Of course I will let you know the dates.
And that’s it — oh wait, the other night, TCM, Turner Classic Movies had a wonderful “short” where dogs starred in all the actor rolls, it was very funny.

And I have no idea what this has to do with anything, just thought I’d let ya go with a smile, (or a growl) …ARF ARF

Why I Love…and Hate Hippies

Watch this video and tell me how this song makes you feel. Give it at least a minute. The way the lead singer dances and all his band members blissfully jump around as if they’ve got it all figured out just makes me happy.  And the weirder hippies are, the more I love them. Their weirdness and their openness are contagious.

You must understand, I am more Clint Eastwood meets MTV’s cynical teen star, Daria, so I’m not the kind of person who walks around hugging my neighbors. Though I will give a homeless person my leftovers and hold the door for someone if the mood strikes me. I’m not totally rotten to the core. There’s a gentle soul in there somewhere. And that’s who the hippies speak to.

I’ve already worked this out in therapy, so this should make sense: Hippies represent innocence, ideals, joie de vie, and everything good under the sun. They speak to the part of me that still believes communal living can work and people can all just get along.

Remember when you were young how you saw the world? You weren’t completely aware yet of how people could hurt you or how you could hurt them. Your faith hadn’t been tested. Hippies remind me of that viewpoint and convince me that there’s still hope for love and better days.

But then the song ends. I grow up. I experience more. I  read about the tragic Altamont free concert in ‘69. Woodstock just wasn’t possible twice. I read interviews by former hippies who admit the naivete of their youth. I enter the working world and answer to a lot of self-proclaimed former hippies. They went corporate. At the end of the day you got to make a buck, right? Even Bob Dylan warned us, you’ve Gotta Serve Somebody, no matter who you are. It turns out that love, peace, and happiness are wonderful ideals that are almost impossible to maintain.

And this is why I love and hate hippies. They’re the yin and yang of my conscious. On one hand I cherish the idea that all we need is love and on the other hand, I know that free love has a price. I think this is not unlike having the devil on one shoulder and an angel on the other. It would just be easier to listen to one of them wouldn’t it? But I think I have to listen to the nagging voices of both.

I haven’t been getting as far ahead on my blog-based writing as I’d hoped the past couple days. The reason? I was invited to contribute to a radio show for Democracy Burlesque, a stage show that I used to be a part of and one of the few theater projects I’ve ever departed on good terms from.

So I wrote some quickie song parodies (which I’m not normally a fan of doing, and I’ll probably discuss why at some point, but that was the commission and I think it works here). I’m recording today and the show plays December 19 on WCPT.

But enough of that… onto today’s story. This is unusual in that it’s a much more substantial part of Clean Hippie Murders than I anticipated writing. The whole thing started with a bit at the end (of part II), and I built forward because that didn’t seem enough. I’m not sure if all of the characterization will stay as is, but it seemed right at the time.

*****

Talinsky shambled out of the office. Jonas watched silently, out of respect for the dead man, or for the Talinsky’s soon-to-be-deceased self-confidence, or because he knew that he could say nothing that it would be wise to have heard. Definitely the last, actually. Heather opened her mouth to say something, but he waved her down with an urgent finger, and she knew that this wasn’t a circumstance for debate.

When the door latched shut, Jonas said simply “We should pay our respects.”

“What aren’t you telling me?”

“Nothing you can’t figure out on your own,” Jonas replied, and he flashed a smile, before putting on a suitably somber face.

Night had fallen, full darkness rather than just twilight. The dry heat of the day hadn’t left with the sun. Heather thought it was wrong. Could, wet air mourned. Hot air means someone is just sleeping.

They were in Jonas’s truck somehow. He was driving. How do you drive at a time like this?

“Someone actually died,” she said. “I don’t think anyone dies around here.”

“’Course people die. There’s a funeral home, isn’t there?”

Heather felt like she should be screaming at him for not caring. She could only sputter.

“It’s okay,” he said, and he offered a different smile, a reassuring one, which he was very good at. “I forget that you’re young, sometimes. But it’s alright. We’re going to offer a little bit of comfort, and that’s the best thing we can do right now.”

Put that way, Heather felt better about the whole trip. Except—

In politics, all things must have purpose, for altruism will destroy you.

“You’re not driving all the way out to the commune this late just to offer sympathy, Jonas. I know you.”

“This is why I forget you’re so young,” he replied, which was as close to an admission as he would give.

“So why are you going if Mr. Talinsky just got… oh.”

“Right in one. Or, three-fourths. Talinsky’ll probably pack and leave before sunrise. Or, maybe, he’ll just leave and forget to pack.”

“That’s not funny, Jonas. Mr. Talinsky is nice.”

Jonas bowed his head slightly, as much as he could while driving. “I’m sorry. I like him too. He can’t handle a murder, though. You know that and I know that, and he knows that most of all. The only reason he can survive as a policeman here is that there’s no crime more serious than parking tickets and the occasional traditional character building code violation.”

“So what’s he going to do?”

Jonas opened his mouth for a quick response, but found he had none. He admitted as much.

“I didn’t think so,” Heather said, with the hint of an accusatory edge. Jonas caught the meaning.

“If you can think of anything, I’ll support you all the way.”

“I will,” she promised. She fell silent to ponder, but the journey ran out before she reached a conclusion.

Once Jonas turned off his engine, the air seemed unnaturally quiet to Heather. Sure, the wilderness was like that, but it was stronger than normal. The commune was a place where spirits exert their will on the human world, the legends say with more or less seriousness. On a night like this, Heather could see where the legends came from. There was sound—the crunch of packed limestone dirt underfoot, the chirp of crickets, and the crackle of fire—but they were separate from the quiet, above it and therefore less than it.

Jonas led the way to the bonfire, but stopped at least a hundred feet short of it. There were six or so silhouettes, and an equal number half-lit by the fire, but none appeared to notice. Their attentions were all directed towards the fire, or more accurately, towards a figure on the other side of it gyrating arrythmically. She would probably call it “dancing.” She would also probably claim to be “dressed in nature,” when in fact she was completely nude.

“You might as well come on in,” the dancer called with no great enthusiasm for her words but an increased enthusiasm for her movement.