| Rayne Today Searching for dharma, in spite of the weather...
Build-A-Meme Project: Go now to MoveOn.org and watch this speech !!! Al Gore, you rock!!! This was an awesome speech!!! He's so doggone good when he’s righteously p*ssed off; I wished he’d been more so in 2000 before the election! I hope like hell every single Democratic candidate has already heard or read this speech. This Administration’s policies and practices of deception are laid out clearly, as are the deliverables a successful 2004 candidate will need to provide the American people. I do hope Gore gives the nod to Dean -- he'd be as straight-forward and direct, he'd take off the gloves and give it as straight as Gore did today. There’s even a meme-let or two here in this speech; Gore’s assault on the Bush Administrations’ use of False Impressions is particularly good. Let me know what you think of it; I came away with a few good ones. (Damn, this was such a good speech, it’s scary…if Dubya was listening and actually paid heed, he might have a good chance at re-election!) Find at: http://www.moveon.org  comment []
RantsCounterRants: Free Ride!!! Atrios bemoaned the arrogance and stupidity of the executive order Bush signed, granting immunity to oil companies for any past-present-future wrong doing in “There are days when I wish I were an oil company. If I were, then the government would grant me an unlimited license to do anything I wanted to.” WAIT A MINUTE!!! I think somebody's onto something here...Atrios, what a cool idea! What if every Democrat in the The only other objective we’d have to accomplish, after incorporating as an oil company, is buy some amount of Iraqi oil. What a way to start a money laundering racket! We take in some revenues, buy some Iraqi oil, sell it, turn the money around and send it back out the door! Clean as a whistle, immune from litigation!!! We'd just charge a de minimus fee for trading in petroleum…and we’ve got money to fund our Presidential campaign!!! Imagine being able to have complete immunity for that meager investment. Wahoo!!! I found a golden egg!!! It’s really too bad that more of us in the Democratic Party don’t think like thieving Republican-subsidized oil barons. It could be fun, that ride all the way down the slippery slope, don’t you think? comment []
End of Summer I stood outside in the near-dark, listening. Only the occasional drop of dew from the top of a tree could be heard, cascading down the leaves with a soft plop-plop to land on the pavement. Where was my friend, the one who greets me every morning? Four weeks ago he could be heard at the top of this birch tree, echoing the call of another of his kind a block away. He would tell the rest of the neighborhood when I came out on the porch, marking my entrance onto the street with a pause and a change in his tune. As I made my way out the door each morning, he’d note the time. It was a ritual, a daily pas de deux with this red-crested troubadour. I realized as I stretched before my morning walk that the sky was very much darker than it had been four weeks ago at this hour. There were still stars yet in the sky. Mars, closer to earth than ever, hung low and orange in the southern sky, unfaded by the dawn’s light. There was as yet no dawn. Ah. This is familiar now. It’s the end of summer. No wonder at all that my crimson-feathered friend salutes me not. He’s still sleeping in the top of whatever tree he calls home. I will not hear him calling me any more at this hour, now that the sun rises later. The season of morning walks begun with serenades is done. I start off, alone in the quiet. How had I not noticed this yesterday? There is an excess, an exuberance that is overripe now in everything. The air is heavy, moist with the scent of over-long grass and dusky flower pollen. A few stray leaves have dropped to the sidewalk, presaging more to come in the weeks ahead. There is a smell of something just past its prime, not quite earthy and not as sweet as fruit. I breathe deeply, feeling as if I were inhaling an ambient soup, walking as if paddling along. Scaring up rabbits along my path, I check the garden after my walk. Rabbits, yes, full-grown now, where once several of these were little handfuls of fluff dancing about the vegetables. In the early glow of dawn, I can no longer tell this year’s infants from those that bore them. Lippity-lumbering along, now unconcerned, they make way and sit by the fence to watch me thoughtfully. The garden is blowsy, as if a large and middle-aged woman in an over-bright green taffeta dress laid herself down on my lawn. Squash blossoms hang like earrings, peppers like pendants; gaudy costume jewelry adorning a ruffled intemperate display. The perfume rising is both greenly fruity and darkly moldy. This won’t last long; this overdressed tart will fade away in a scant few weeks. Best to take advantage of her jewels quickly, while she’s loose with them. My shoes are sodden wet, emerald confetti of grass clippings clinging tightly to the toes and soles. Flecks of moist grass trail behind me now, marking the way if I so choose to return along that path before the dog days’ sun dries them, before warm afternoon breezes remove the evidence that I had been this way. The sink filled with my ominous booty, black-green cucumbers and dark green zucchinis, I elect not to go back. I’ll stay and tend to my harvest, getting out once again jars in which to seal this morning’s plunder. It’s time to preserve what I can, save what remains of this summer. comment []
|
| |||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
