Mark Raymond Ganzer posted to Ginger Johnson Pillman
Hey Ginger - your class does HC every year? May I join your class?
Ginger Johnson Pillman Sure Mark.. Just look for the class of 72rryck
Thomas Retzlaff Just show up... I'll be looking for you.
Ginger Johnson Pillman Sorry for the typo... our class will have 2 trucks
Mark Raymond Ganzer I think I'll still be a carrot top - but a VERY round carrot top - BIG BELLIED OLD MEN (BBOM) I am the charter member of that substantial disorganization. WOW, thanks for the invite - NOW .. this would be 24 Sept? Where?
Ginger Johnson Pillman All of the classes meet in the parking lot by the train station. The parade starts there
Mark Raymond Ganzer WOWSA .. even I can find the parking lot of the train station - do you, Ginger, that I have not been to homecoming parade since leaving HS ... sad, sad, what I've missed!
Thomas Retzlaff Around 9:30 right?
Ginger Johnson Pillman I think so.. I am trying to find out...
Thomas Retzlaff Jill H. usually brings Bloody Marys for those interested in that sort of thing.
Ginger Johnson Pillman Virgin of course... !!
Thursday, September 15, 2011
Whether or not this is a "real" true story, it most assuredly ought to be, and thus, it IS!
They are taking away our religious freedom under the disguise of religious
freedom. When freedoms are taken away they are almost impossible to get
back...we have to stand up before it's too late.
It is truly time we ALL take a stand for what we believe in…God!
Subject: At a Tennessee Football Game---not a joke
Subject: At a Tennessee Football Game---not a joke
Christianity is now the target of persecution...
THIS IS AS GOOD AS IT GETS! GOD BLESS EVERYONE WHO READS THIS AND PASSES IT ON.
I FIND IT INTERESTING THAT A HIGH SCHOOL PRINCIPAL CAN SEE THE PROBLEM, BUT OUR
SOCIETY CANNOT.
Tennessee Football
This is a statement that was read over the PA sytem at the football game at
Roane County High School , Kingston , Tennessee by school Principal, Jody McLeod
"It has always been the custom at Roane County High School football games, to
say a prayer and play the National Anthem, to honor God and Country."
Due to a recent ruling by the Supreme Court, I am told that saying a Prayer is a
violation of Federal Case Law. As I understand the law at this time, I can use
this public facility to approve of sexual perversion and call it "an alternate
life style," and if someone is offended, that's OK.
I can use it to condone sexual promiscuity, by dispensing condoms and calling
it, "safe sex." If someone is offended, that's OK.
I can even use this public facility to present the merits of killing an unborn
baby as a "viable! Means of birth control." If someone is offended, no
problem...
I can designate a school day as "Earth Day" and involve students in activities
to worship religiously and praise the goddess "Mother Earth" and call it
"ecology.."
I can use literature, videos and
presentations in the classroom that depicts
people with strong, traditional Christian convictions as "simple minded" and
"ignorant" and call it "enlightenment.."
However, if anyone uses this facility to honor GOD and to ask HIM to Bless this
event with safety and good sportsmanship, then Federal Case Law is violated.
This appears to be inconsistent at best, and at worst, diabolical.
Apparently, we are to be tolerant of everything and anyone, except GOD and HIS
Commandments.
Nevertheless , as a school
principal, I frequently ask staff and students to
abide by rules with which they do not necessarily agree. For me to do otherwise
would be inconsistent at best, and at worst, hypocritical. I suffer from that
affliction enough unintentionally. I certainly do not need to add an intentional
transgression.
For
this reason, I shall "Render unto Caesar that which is Caesar's," and
refrain from praying at this time.
" However, if you feel inspired to honor, praise and thank GOD and ask HIM,in
the name of JESUS, to Bless this event, please feel free to do so.. As far as I
know, that's not against the law----yet."
One by one, the people in the stands bowed their heads, held hands with one
another and began to pray.
They prayed in the stands. They prayed in the team huddles. They prayed at the
concession stand and they
prayed in the Announcer's Box!
The only place they didn't pray was in the Supreme Court of the United States of
America- the Seat of "Justice" in the "one nation, under GOD."
Somehow, Kingston , Tennessee
Remembered what so many have forgotten. We are
given the Freedom OF Religion, not the FreedomFROM ReligionPraise GOD that HIS
remnant remains!
JESUS said, "If you are ashamed of ME before men, then I will be ashamed of you
before MY FATHER.."
If you are not ashamed, pass this on ..
I'm not one bit ashamed to pass this on, Are you?
THIS IS AS GOOD AS IT GETS! GOD BLESS EVERYONE WHO READS THIS AND PASSES IT ON.
Tony Carter
Technical Manager
General Shale Brick
121 Turner Bend Road
Rome, Georgia 30165
Phone: (706) 802-0777 Ext. 120
Cell: (706) 331-7956
Fax: (706) 802-0888
freedom. When freedoms are taken away they are almost impossible to get
back...we have to stand up before it's too late.
It is truly time we ALL take a stand for what we believe in…God!
Subject: At a Tennessee Football Game---not a joke
Subject: At a Tennessee Football Game---not a joke
Christianity is now the target of persecution...
THIS IS AS GOOD AS IT GETS! GOD BLESS EVERYONE WHO READS THIS AND PASSES IT ON.
I FIND IT INTERESTING THAT A HIGH SCHOOL PRINCIPAL CAN SEE THE PROBLEM, BUT OUR
SOCIETY CANNOT.
Tennessee Football
This is a statement that was read over the PA sytem at the football game at
Roane County High School , Kingston , Tennessee by school Principal, Jody McLeod
"It has always been the custom at Roane County High School football games, to
say a prayer and play the National Anthem, to honor God and Country."
Due to a recent ruling by the Supreme Court, I am told that saying a Prayer is a
violation of Federal Case Law. As I understand the law at this time, I can use
this public facility to approve of sexual perversion and call it "an alternate
life style," and if someone is offended, that's OK.
I can use it to condone sexual promiscuity, by dispensing condoms and calling
it, "safe sex." If someone is offended, that's OK.
I can even use this public facility to present the merits of killing an unborn
baby as a "viable! Means of birth control." If someone is offended, no
problem...
I can designate a school day as "Earth Day" and involve students in activities
to worship religiously and praise the goddess "Mother Earth" and call it
"ecology.."
I can use literature, videos and
presentations in the classroom that depicts
people with strong, traditional Christian convictions as "simple minded" and
"ignorant" and call it "enlightenment.."
However, if anyone uses this facility to honor GOD and to ask HIM to Bless this
event with safety and good sportsmanship, then Federal Case Law is violated.
This appears to be inconsistent at best, and at worst, diabolical.
Apparently, we are to be tolerant of everything and anyone, except GOD and HIS
Commandments.
Nevertheless , as a school
principal, I frequently ask staff and students to
abide by rules with which they do not necessarily agree. For me to do otherwise
would be inconsistent at best, and at worst, hypocritical. I suffer from that
affliction enough unintentionally. I certainly do not need to add an intentional
transgression.
For
this reason, I shall "Render unto Caesar that which is Caesar's," and
refrain from praying at this time.
" However, if you feel inspired to honor, praise and thank GOD and ask HIM,in
the name of JESUS, to Bless this event, please feel free to do so.. As far as I
know, that's not against the law----yet."
One by one, the people in the stands bowed their heads, held hands with one
another and began to pray.
They prayed in the stands. They prayed in the team huddles. They prayed at the
concession stand and they
prayed in the Announcer's Box!
The only place they didn't pray was in the Supreme Court of the United States of
America- the Seat of "Justice" in the "one nation, under GOD."
Somehow, Kingston , Tennessee
Remembered what so many have forgotten. We are
given the Freedom OF Religion, not the FreedomFROM ReligionPraise GOD that HIS
remnant remains!
JESUS said, "If you are ashamed of ME before men, then I will be ashamed of you
before MY FATHER.."
If you are not ashamed, pass this on ..
I'm not one bit ashamed to pass this on, Are you?
THIS IS AS GOOD AS IT GETS! GOD BLESS EVERYONE WHO READS THIS AND PASSES IT ON.
Tony Carter
Technical Manager
General Shale Brick
121 Turner Bend Road
Rome, Georgia 30165
Phone: (706) 802-0777 Ext. 120
Cell: (706) 331-7956
Fax: (706) 802-0888
Tuesday, September 13, 2011
Drug Overdose Deaths Double in Five Years Second Leading Cause of Accidental Death
Drug Overdose Deaths Double in Five Years
Second Leading Cause of Accidental Death
By Buddy T, About.com Guide
Updated February 12, 2007
Unintentional fatal drug overdoses nearly doubled from 1999 to 2004 and were the second leading cause of accidental death in the United States in 2004, behind only automobile crashes, according to the Centers for Disease Control.
Deaths from accidental overdoses increased to 19,838 in 2004, from 11,155 in 1999, according to the CDC report, which was based on death certificate information (which does not detail which drugs were used). However, researchers believe the increasing misuse of prescription drugs by those ages 15 to 24 accounts for the majority of the statistic.
Illegal Drugs Not to Blame
Officially, drug overdose deaths are listed on death certificates as "poisoning." However, data from the National Vital Statistics System shows that drug poisoning accounted for 94.7 percent of all unintentional poisoning deaths by 2004.
The CDC attributes the 62.5 percent rise in drug overdose deaths between 1999 and 2004 to a higher use of prescription painkillers and increasing numbers of overdoses of cocaine and prescription sedatives. The increase cannot be attributed to heroin, methamphetamines or other illegal drugs, the report said.
Groups With Highest Increases
According to the CDC report, these groups had the highest increases in deaths by drug overdose between 1999 and 2004:
Females - 103.0 percent
Whites - 75.8 percent
Persons in the southern United States - 113.6 percent
Persons aged 15-24 years - 113.3 percent
It's Not the Inner Cities
Although drug overdose deaths are historically associated with urban areas, the latest figures from the CDC show the greatest increases in rural areas between 1999 and 2004. This finding coincides with other research that shows prescription drug abuse, especially of painkillers, is increasing more rapidly in rural areas.
Rates increased during the five-year period by less than one-third in the Northeast and West but more than doubled in the South and nearly doubled in the Midwest. Rates doubled in 23 states, with West Virginia showing the greatest increase with 550 percent.
In other words, the dramatic increase in drug overdose deaths is not driven by illegal drug use in the inner cities; it is being fueled by prescription drug abuse in white, middle-class, rural America.
Other Groups Affected
The group with the highest increase in fatal drug overdoses were white non-Hispanic females, with an increase of 136.5 percent. The rate of increase for females was twice that of males.
Among females, rates among whites more than doubled by 2004, but nonwhites showed smaller increases or even decreased. Overall, rates increased 75.8 percent among whites, 55.8 percent among American Indians/Alaska Natives, 27.4 percent among Asians/Pacific Islanders and 11.2 percent among blacks.
Suggestions for Solutions
To combat the rising hike in accidental drug overdose, the CDC recommends tightening regulatory measures, improving physician awareness, supporting treatment for drug dependence and possibly modifying the drugs themselves to reduce their potential for abuse.
The CDC also recommends that state agencies that manage prescription-monitoring programs try to identify patients who are getting multiple prescriptions from different doctors and identify physicians who write prescriptions beyond what is appropriate.
Sources
Centers for Disease Control. Mobidity and Mortality Weekly Report. February 9, 2007 / 56(05);93-96.
Substance Abuse and Mental Health Services Administration Office of Applied Studies. Results from the 2005 National Survey on Drug Use and Health: national findings. 2006.
Second Leading Cause of Accidental Death
By Buddy T, About.com Guide
Updated February 12, 2007
Unintentional fatal drug overdoses nearly doubled from 1999 to 2004 and were the second leading cause of accidental death in the United States in 2004, behind only automobile crashes, according to the Centers for Disease Control.
Deaths from accidental overdoses increased to 19,838 in 2004, from 11,155 in 1999, according to the CDC report, which was based on death certificate information (which does not detail which drugs were used). However, researchers believe the increasing misuse of prescription drugs by those ages 15 to 24 accounts for the majority of the statistic.
Illegal Drugs Not to Blame
Officially, drug overdose deaths are listed on death certificates as "poisoning." However, data from the National Vital Statistics System shows that drug poisoning accounted for 94.7 percent of all unintentional poisoning deaths by 2004.
The CDC attributes the 62.5 percent rise in drug overdose deaths between 1999 and 2004 to a higher use of prescription painkillers and increasing numbers of overdoses of cocaine and prescription sedatives. The increase cannot be attributed to heroin, methamphetamines or other illegal drugs, the report said.
Groups With Highest Increases
According to the CDC report, these groups had the highest increases in deaths by drug overdose between 1999 and 2004:
Females - 103.0 percent
Whites - 75.8 percent
Persons in the southern United States - 113.6 percent
Persons aged 15-24 years - 113.3 percent
It's Not the Inner Cities
Although drug overdose deaths are historically associated with urban areas, the latest figures from the CDC show the greatest increases in rural areas between 1999 and 2004. This finding coincides with other research that shows prescription drug abuse, especially of painkillers, is increasing more rapidly in rural areas.
Rates increased during the five-year period by less than one-third in the Northeast and West but more than doubled in the South and nearly doubled in the Midwest. Rates doubled in 23 states, with West Virginia showing the greatest increase with 550 percent.
In other words, the dramatic increase in drug overdose deaths is not driven by illegal drug use in the inner cities; it is being fueled by prescription drug abuse in white, middle-class, rural America.
Other Groups Affected
The group with the highest increase in fatal drug overdoses were white non-Hispanic females, with an increase of 136.5 percent. The rate of increase for females was twice that of males.
Among females, rates among whites more than doubled by 2004, but nonwhites showed smaller increases or even decreased. Overall, rates increased 75.8 percent among whites, 55.8 percent among American Indians/Alaska Natives, 27.4 percent among Asians/Pacific Islanders and 11.2 percent among blacks.
Suggestions for Solutions
To combat the rising hike in accidental drug overdose, the CDC recommends tightening regulatory measures, improving physician awareness, supporting treatment for drug dependence and possibly modifying the drugs themselves to reduce their potential for abuse.
The CDC also recommends that state agencies that manage prescription-monitoring programs try to identify patients who are getting multiple prescriptions from different doctors and identify physicians who write prescriptions beyond what is appropriate.
Sources
Centers for Disease Control. Mobidity and Mortality Weekly Report. February 9, 2007 / 56(05);93-96.
Substance Abuse and Mental Health Services Administration Office of Applied Studies. Results from the 2005 National Survey on Drug Use and Health: national findings. 2006.
Please take the time to comment - who is winning the following debate?
The following comes from a face book post I recently made. It illustrates the types of problems that REAL PEOPLE, of all races, creeds, sexual orientation, socio-economic status have, because the two naysayers have bought into the corporate welfare system that in the U.S. is laughingly called "Capitalism" and are far more worried about straw men than about human beings. These ARE NOT good and decent people. They are conceited, and might very well end up across the divide from the Lazurus' of the world:
------------
A thought experiment - thanks to a Union Pacific conduction who thinks that poor people get a "lot" of government money.
The free public transportation for Illinois senior citizens is being phased out. The conductors were talking about it on the way back to Barrington from Chicago tonight. I chimed in, "they should have never gotten it in the first place."
**********
Mark Raymond Ganzer
It is not poor people who are selling drugs to upper class 22 year olds - I have written at great length on the suicides in Barrington (which I believe to be on the order of 6-8 per year, split evenly between train jumpers and heroin / crack OD).
The drug dealing capitals of the US are Barrington, Il ... Highland Park, IL, Fox Lake IL .... Wauconda, IL, Island Lake, IL, McHenry, IL, & Streamwood, IL
NONE of those communities has anything resembling poor people ... poor people don't deal drugs
But, this high school valedictorian was overseeing a 50-70 million $ a year operation, and continued to oversee it, while becoming the valedictorian from a very presitigious private school.
NONE of those communities has anything resembling a black or hispanic presence
NONE of those communities has poor people
The typical cocaine user is a 35-year while male, making 60,000-80,000 with a good job, a mortgage, and a wife, and yet, in Illinois about 4 years ago, there were 2 white males in prison for cocaine distribution and 1,007 black men for the same offense .... hmmm
So, why are you so upset at poor people, and where in the world do you get off thinking they'd all go out and spend it on booze ... I think they'd spend it on shelter and food first, maybe clothes for their kids, and YES, then maybe booze, and so, what?
And personally ... I think all those upper class 22 year olds who are stupid enough to do drugs ... deserve exactly what they get ... I have NO sympathy ... and ... p.s. their PARENTS never had a clue? .... I mentioned the drug dealings to a Barrington cop, because, fully 25% of the high school junior and senior class must SURELY know who is dealing, and really ought to narc em out simply for the reward (the $$) because their names would never show up ... just give the tip ... so they can be put into jail, like they deserve ... the dealers ... by the way, who should be prosecuted for murder in the drug OD cases ... and the cop surprised me
"So we can get them the help they need," he said.
We've come a hell of a way since the days of detective Harry Krass!
Why not take the money away from the rich so they can't afford the drugs? And have to drink booze instead? There are programs of taxation that make such things possible.
I know you can't help being a product of your environment, but I want to point out to you something about your logic, and this is a reflection upon your education, which was, elite, and, not particularly very good, EXCEPT for keeping you culturally pure, and intellectually dull
"Let's also up welfare to pay for more drugs and booze for those folks who do not want to work!"
Whom do you personally know on welfare that does not want to work?
None of the non-working, homeless folks I know drink booze. They do not have the money for it. They struggle too hard to find warmth and safety, they cannot afford to let their guard down, for other street people will take them for everything (every pathetically few thing) they own.
This is known, in logic, as "the straw man" argument
And keep more drug masking kits being made so addicts can pass their drug test and keep their welfare!
How many addicts on welfare do you know personally? How many of these addicts have drug masking kits, that you know personally? If you don't know any personally, what credible studies can you cite which would offer data in this arena.
"Caught me on a bad night. In the last six months I have gone to funerals for upper class 22 year olds who over dosed. I despise drug dealers and those that choose drugs! Sorry, had to jump in there."
I actually love the one former drug dealer that I know best. He was the perfect example of capitalism. He had a market which wanted a product. He sold them the product. He made a fortune (spent the fortune also, on drugs, booze, hookers). He never got caught. REPEAT .. he never got caught. He was VERY intelligent ... AND very street smart. He had a distribution network, and he had the cops paid off, and he NEVER sold in his own community, and, in fact, over saw the punishments (which included death) of those who DID attempt to sell for personal use in his community. Since HE did not sell in the community, the cops left him alone.
His mother never knew. His father never knew. He worked for his father and made good money working for his father, all the while graduating as valedictorian. He was so cute, so cuddly, so smart, and so savage and ruthless. Also, he did not experience physical pain in the way "normal" people do ... you could hit him in the face, the head, whereever, and he would laugh at you, and he could take out half a dozen guys ... and has done so ... How in the world could a cute white suburban kid, so smart, be the drug king pin? ... It is the perfect capitalist cover ... he looks so much like one of us," we simply assumed he was one of "us."
Who did he sell his drugs to? OTHER DRUG DEALERS with smaller markets.
SO .. let me get your argument straight here ....
BECAUSE upper class 22 year olds overdose on drugs
Poor people who in fact might not even drink or use drugs (and in all probability, don't) should not be given money to help them get jobs and raise themselves out of poverty.
THAT, dear, is your logic. And, I don't know how it looks to you .. but, to me ... it looks as if you would fit right in in Barrington, or The Grier School, or any of the 100 most elite Colleges and Universities in the U.S. ... because such places and such institutions are in place in order to continue and justify a system of indoctrination .... a system that has worked very well for the parents of the children that live there (these are the few), or go to the schools, and this, in fact, is justification (the gospel of prosperity), but in actuality, prevents a lot of very worthy and talented people from ever rising above their station of birth (the unlucky sperm clubbers).
NOW ... if that logic pleases you, and you are proud of it, fine.
That logic is not logic at all, however, in my world. And it would shame me to ever be caught propagating it.
Wonder what Jesus would say about such a system, that allows so few to possess so much and to persecute and enslave so many?
Just asking.
--------------
Mark Raymond Ganzer
The "average meth lab operator?" ya'll got the demographics on that 'un? .. probably you do ... MY contention is still that MOST of the people who are homeless are so NOT because of drug addiction, alcohol abuse, or because of their skills at gaming the system most of the people who are poor are definetly NOT poor because of addictions .. but because they lost a job or because their insurance benefits ran out, and, quite frankly, if we are smart enough to means test to eliminate the meth lab folk ... WHY IN THE FUCKING HELL CAN'T THE DAMN LAW ENFORCEMENT AGENCIES FIGURE OUT HOW TO GIT EM ... [(Oh, because a significant proportion of the COPS are part of the meth lab operations and they are paid to protect]
***************
Mark
[Shelli, I am sure you did – after all, your A's were paid for by the size of the tuition check, and besides, your teachers were not even remotely interested in educating you, or hearing you come up with anything that would defy the “conventional wisdom" of the elites at the University you attended. It is very important to keep the cultural and inbreeding intact, lest the rich start to get a conscience and become class traitors like that accursed FDR (effen democratic retard)]
===============
John
Mark Raymond Ganzer:
(In no way was I "just kidding.")
Okay .. i get it .. y'all don't think it makes sense to give money to poor people because some of the people that get money that is supposed to go to poor people are NOT poor ... well, how about the billion dollar [hedge] fund managers who talked GWB into cutting their marginal tax rates to 15% ... they saved themselves, I do believe $200,000,000 in taxes ... enought to provide 548,000 poor people with a one month rail pass, or 45,500 people with a rail pass for a year ... better by far, I suppose that the one gets it all, rather than risk undeservings get any
Y'all are a product of your educational back ground, and your heartlessness and ignorance are on full display
HOW MANY homeless people do you know?
For Christ's sake, I GAVE my apartment to a Viet Nam tunnel rat, who was homeless in Chicatgo, living in alleyways and making money cleaning windows. He was NOT getting any benefits. Oh, did I mention he had a metal plate in his head? [Did I mention that he had a LOT of shrapanel in his leg, and walked with a severe limp?] Did I mention that his family died one night while he was driving in Florida [How much grief counseling do you think the US government gave to Eddie?]
Y'all think the government was there to support THAT troop, with the IQ of about 85, and the heart of Jesus Christ?
Y'all don't know poor people, you'd run away from 'em in an instant if you did, afraid that its contagious. Go on, enjoy your priveleges, y'all earned them, after all, you're both members of the lucky sperm club, born in Barrington, college educated, married into an upper middle class family, or higher.
Just don't dare attempt to help the helpless, because some of them helpless might not really be helpless.
OH, wait, did I mention I paid the rent for 8 months, and the utilities (there was no phone)?
And YES, Eddie Fuensteihl DID drink some beers and smoked some cigarettes and once a month i'd go in to check on him, and sometimes he'd borrow money from me to buy [the food for the] dinner [he and his cousin would make, for me, and sometimes my girl friend too], but mostly he had enough money for dinner (his cousin moved in with him also - made things easier for both of them, and gave them companionship)
Oh, and did I mention that EDDIE initiated the conversation, "Mark, did you ever kill women and children" BECAUSE he had, and he didn't feel very fucking good about it AT ALL. [He was a baby killer, and he regretted it. Do you think Richard Nixon ever regretted it? Harry Kissinger? The Winter Soldiers? (YES, they did)]
By the way, What have y'all done to support the troops lately?
@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@
About me:
TRAITOR – Mark Ganzer
I am a traitor
A traitor to my race
A traitor to my creed
A traitor to my gender
A traitor to my former corporate standing
A traitor to my former socio-economic status
A traitor to my cultural inculcations.
In my treachery to these, the circumstances
of the random and improbable mating of seed and egg,
of the accident of my birth, I am empowered,
and have become the most dangerous of all creatures.
walking cloaked like those, and speaking to language of
those who cleave unto their unfounded beliefs:
I am the creature which haunts their nightmares,
I am the born again human who has looked into the mirror
Seen his true self and been lain low by the painful realization that my life's choices had corrupted me, and made me and turned me upon my genuine self -- I had let creature comforts numb me from what the universe first called me to be and called me to do.
I have rejected all that for which they stand; all that they worship. Their unfounded beliefs and idols of worship revolve around these matters:
In the superiority of the white race over all other races,
In the superiority of christianity over all other faith traditions,
In the superiority of men over women,
In the wisdom of the corporate elites over the working class masses.
In the superiority of western "culture and civilization" to all other cultures and civilizations.
They self-justify these beliefs by their material "blessings" that have accrued unto them resulting from the circumstances of the random and improbable mating of sperm and egg, of the accident of their births, and, at the upper echelons, by their celebrity.
The gospel of prosperity and the cult of personality are sufficient self-justifications.
This gospel and this cult I reject out of hand, and will oppose to my last breath.
------------
A thought experiment - thanks to a Union Pacific conduction who thinks that poor people get a "lot" of government money.
The free public transportation for Illinois senior citizens is being phased out. The conductors were talking about it on the way back to Barrington from Chicago tonight. I chimed in, "they should have never gotten it in the first place."
**********
Shelli************
Mark, you are on a roll tonight! Let's also up welfare to pay for more drugs and booze for those folks who do not want to work! And keep more drug masking kits being made so addicts can pass their drug test and keep their welfare! Caught me In the last six months I have gone to funerals for upper class 22 year olds who over dosed. I despise drug dealers and those that choose drugs! Sorry, had to jump in there.
Mark Raymond Ganzer
It is not poor people who are selling drugs to upper class 22 year olds - I have written at great length on the suicides in Barrington (which I believe to be on the order of 6-8 per year, split evenly between train jumpers and heroin / crack OD).
The drug dealing capitals of the US are Barrington, Il ... Highland Park, IL, Fox Lake IL .... Wauconda, IL, Island Lake, IL, McHenry, IL, & Streamwood, IL
NONE of those communities has anything resembling poor people ... poor people don't deal drugs
But, this high school valedictorian was overseeing a 50-70 million $ a year operation, and continued to oversee it, while becoming the valedictorian from a very presitigious private school.
NONE of those communities has anything resembling a black or hispanic presence
NONE of those communities has poor people
The typical cocaine user is a 35-year while male, making 60,000-80,000 with a good job, a mortgage, and a wife, and yet, in Illinois about 4 years ago, there were 2 white males in prison for cocaine distribution and 1,007 black men for the same offense .... hmmm
So, why are you so upset at poor people, and where in the world do you get off thinking they'd all go out and spend it on booze ... I think they'd spend it on shelter and food first, maybe clothes for their kids, and YES, then maybe booze, and so, what?
And personally ... I think all those upper class 22 year olds who are stupid enough to do drugs ... deserve exactly what they get ... I have NO sympathy ... and ... p.s. their PARENTS never had a clue? .... I mentioned the drug dealings to a Barrington cop, because, fully 25% of the high school junior and senior class must SURELY know who is dealing, and really ought to narc em out simply for the reward (the $$) because their names would never show up ... just give the tip ... so they can be put into jail, like they deserve ... the dealers ... by the way, who should be prosecuted for murder in the drug OD cases ... and the cop surprised me
"So we can get them the help they need," he said.
We've come a hell of a way since the days of detective Harry Krass!
Why not take the money away from the rich so they can't afford the drugs? And have to drink booze instead? There are programs of taxation that make such things possible.
I know you can't help being a product of your environment, but I want to point out to you something about your logic, and this is a reflection upon your education, which was, elite, and, not particularly very good, EXCEPT for keeping you culturally pure, and intellectually dull
"Let's also up welfare to pay for more drugs and booze for those folks who do not want to work!"
Whom do you personally know on welfare that does not want to work?
None of the non-working, homeless folks I know drink booze. They do not have the money for it. They struggle too hard to find warmth and safety, they cannot afford to let their guard down, for other street people will take them for everything (every pathetically few thing) they own.
This is known, in logic, as "the straw man" argument
And keep more drug masking kits being made so addicts can pass their drug test and keep their welfare!
How many addicts on welfare do you know personally? How many of these addicts have drug masking kits, that you know personally? If you don't know any personally, what credible studies can you cite which would offer data in this arena.
"Caught me on a bad night. In the last six months I have gone to funerals for upper class 22 year olds who over dosed. I despise drug dealers and those that choose drugs! Sorry, had to jump in there."
I actually love the one former drug dealer that I know best. He was the perfect example of capitalism. He had a market which wanted a product. He sold them the product. He made a fortune (spent the fortune also, on drugs, booze, hookers). He never got caught. REPEAT .. he never got caught. He was VERY intelligent ... AND very street smart. He had a distribution network, and he had the cops paid off, and he NEVER sold in his own community, and, in fact, over saw the punishments (which included death) of those who DID attempt to sell for personal use in his community. Since HE did not sell in the community, the cops left him alone.
His mother never knew. His father never knew. He worked for his father and made good money working for his father, all the while graduating as valedictorian. He was so cute, so cuddly, so smart, and so savage and ruthless. Also, he did not experience physical pain in the way "normal" people do ... you could hit him in the face, the head, whereever, and he would laugh at you, and he could take out half a dozen guys ... and has done so ... How in the world could a cute white suburban kid, so smart, be the drug king pin? ... It is the perfect capitalist cover ... he looks so much like one of us," we simply assumed he was one of "us."
Who did he sell his drugs to? OTHER DRUG DEALERS with smaller markets.
SO .. let me get your argument straight here ....
BECAUSE upper class 22 year olds overdose on drugs
Poor people who in fact might not even drink or use drugs (and in all probability, don't) should not be given money to help them get jobs and raise themselves out of poverty.
THAT, dear, is your logic. And, I don't know how it looks to you .. but, to me ... it looks as if you would fit right in in Barrington, or The Grier School, or any of the 100 most elite Colleges and Universities in the U.S. ... because such places and such institutions are in place in order to continue and justify a system of indoctrination .... a system that has worked very well for the parents of the children that live there (these are the few), or go to the schools, and this, in fact, is justification (the gospel of prosperity), but in actuality, prevents a lot of very worthy and talented people from ever rising above their station of birth (the unlucky sperm clubbers).
NOW ... if that logic pleases you, and you are proud of it, fine.
That logic is not logic at all, however, in my world. And it would shame me to ever be caught propagating it.
Wonder what Jesus would say about such a system, that allows so few to possess so much and to persecute and enslave so many?
Just asking.
--------------
John---------------------------
Oh, those darned old people. Always looking for a free ride!!!! And Mark you need to consider demographics in given areas of our country. In Virginia for example. The average meth lab operator is already on welfare and or disability. Sorry but this is a simple fact. The average crack smoker is driving a $40m plus automobile. And as for Barrington. Well... Barrington is as close to a median national demographic as is the elite university town of Charlottesville Virginia. BOTH NOT!!!! I personally know of people who have gone on mental illness disability with the intention of never working and running their own meth lab to sell to our cash cow youth. Oh and the "crazy check" from Uncle Sam is for beer and smokes. They fund the math lab by growing and selling pot. Sorry bud but my wife is in law enforcement so I hear it all.
Mark Raymond Ganzer
The "average meth lab operator?" ya'll got the demographics on that 'un? .. probably you do ... MY contention is still that MOST of the people who are homeless are so NOT because of drug addiction, alcohol abuse, or because of their skills at gaming the system most of the people who are poor are definetly NOT poor because of addictions .. but because they lost a job or because their insurance benefits ran out, and, quite frankly, if we are smart enough to means test to eliminate the meth lab folk ... WHY IN THE FUCKING HELL CAN'T THE DAMN LAW ENFORCEMENT AGENCIES FIGURE OUT HOW TO GIT EM ... [(Oh, because a significant proportion of the COPS are part of the meth lab operations and they are paid to protect]
***************
Shelli---------------
Oh, you guys are putting me on my soap box, will reply at a later date.. Have to cash my welfare check ;-) j/k don't forget I got an A in debate class!
Mark
[Shelli, I am sure you did – after all, your A's were paid for by the size of the tuition check, and besides, your teachers were not even remotely interested in educating you, or hearing you come up with anything that would defy the “conventional wisdom" of the elites at the University you attended. It is very important to keep the cultural and inbreeding intact, lest the rich start to get a conscience and become class traitors like that accursed FDR (effen democratic retard)]
===============
John
Mark please try not to sound like Marx. (MG - I have no idea of how Marx sounded, he had already died before I was born - I have a voice that changes from slow southern to east coast effete at the drop of an intonation - it is VERY important to sound like those you wish to impress - if you can dress as do they, all the better)Y********************
our statement about taking money from the rich so they are too poor to do drugs is counterproductive. If the drug related suicides in Barrington are mostly among the upper class, this is far from the case across the rest of the nation. Creating one social injustice to cure another is not the way to remedy anything. Hope you were just kidding. :)
Mark Raymond Ganzer:
(In no way was I "just kidding.")
Okay .. i get it .. y'all don't think it makes sense to give money to poor people because some of the people that get money that is supposed to go to poor people are NOT poor ... well, how about the billion dollar [hedge] fund managers who talked GWB into cutting their marginal tax rates to 15% ... they saved themselves, I do believe $200,000,000 in taxes ... enought to provide 548,000 poor people with a one month rail pass, or 45,500 people with a rail pass for a year ... better by far, I suppose that the one gets it all, rather than risk undeservings get any
Y'all are a product of your educational back ground, and your heartlessness and ignorance are on full display
HOW MANY homeless people do you know?
For Christ's sake, I GAVE my apartment to a Viet Nam tunnel rat, who was homeless in Chicatgo, living in alleyways and making money cleaning windows. He was NOT getting any benefits. Oh, did I mention he had a metal plate in his head? [Did I mention that he had a LOT of shrapanel in his leg, and walked with a severe limp?] Did I mention that his family died one night while he was driving in Florida [How much grief counseling do you think the US government gave to Eddie?]
Y'all think the government was there to support THAT troop, with the IQ of about 85, and the heart of Jesus Christ?
Y'all don't know poor people, you'd run away from 'em in an instant if you did, afraid that its contagious. Go on, enjoy your priveleges, y'all earned them, after all, you're both members of the lucky sperm club, born in Barrington, college educated, married into an upper middle class family, or higher.
Just don't dare attempt to help the helpless, because some of them helpless might not really be helpless.
OH, wait, did I mention I paid the rent for 8 months, and the utilities (there was no phone)?
And YES, Eddie Fuensteihl DID drink some beers and smoked some cigarettes and once a month i'd go in to check on him, and sometimes he'd borrow money from me to buy [the food for the] dinner [he and his cousin would make, for me, and sometimes my girl friend too], but mostly he had enough money for dinner (his cousin moved in with him also - made things easier for both of them, and gave them companionship)
Oh, and did I mention that EDDIE initiated the conversation, "Mark, did you ever kill women and children" BECAUSE he had, and he didn't feel very fucking good about it AT ALL. [He was a baby killer, and he regretted it. Do you think Richard Nixon ever regretted it? Harry Kissinger? The Winter Soldiers? (YES, they did)]
By the way, What have y'all done to support the troops lately?
@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@
About me:
TRAITOR – Mark Ganzer
I am a traitor
A traitor to my race
A traitor to my creed
A traitor to my gender
A traitor to my former corporate standing
A traitor to my former socio-economic status
A traitor to my cultural inculcations.
In my treachery to these, the circumstances
of the random and improbable mating of seed and egg,
of the accident of my birth, I am empowered,
and have become the most dangerous of all creatures.
walking cloaked like those, and speaking to language of
those who cleave unto their unfounded beliefs:
I am the creature which haunts their nightmares,
I am the born again human who has looked into the mirror
Seen his true self and been lain low by the painful realization that my life's choices had corrupted me, and made me and turned me upon my genuine self -- I had let creature comforts numb me from what the universe first called me to be and called me to do.
I have rejected all that for which they stand; all that they worship. Their unfounded beliefs and idols of worship revolve around these matters:
In the superiority of the white race over all other races,
In the superiority of christianity over all other faith traditions,
In the superiority of men over women,
In the wisdom of the corporate elites over the working class masses.
In the superiority of western "culture and civilization" to all other cultures and civilizations.
They self-justify these beliefs by their material "blessings" that have accrued unto them resulting from the circumstances of the random and improbable mating of sperm and egg, of the accident of their births, and, at the upper echelons, by their celebrity.
The gospel of prosperity and the cult of personality are sufficient self-justifications.
This gospel and this cult I reject out of hand, and will oppose to my last breath.
Monday, September 12, 2011
From one of my facebook friends - Scott Werdebaugh
Scott Werdebaugh 5:37pm Sep 11
Wow! I sure needed to hear this today! I hope that it will minister to your spirit as it did to mine! The essay is entitled, "Simplifying Our Spiritual Vocabulary."
Wow! I sure needed to hear this today! I hope that it will minister to your spirit as it did to mine! The essay is entitled, "Simplifying Our Spiritual Vocabulary."
Simplifying Our Spiritual Vocabulary
By Ron Rolkeiser, OMI
2011-05-29
Somewhere near his 75th birthday, Morris West wrote a series of autobiographical essays entitled, “A View from the Ridge.” In the Prologue of that book he suggests that at age 75 you need to have only one word left in your spiritual vocabulary, gratitude, and that maturity is attained precisely at that moment when gratitude begins to drown out and cauterize the hurts in your life. As he describes it: Life has served me as it serves everyone, sometimes well and sometimes ill, but I have learned to be grateful for the gifts of it, for the love that began it and the other loves with which I have been so richly endowed.
I agree with West, though it is necessary to add that the fruit of that maturity is forgiveness. Just as smoke follows fire, forgiveness follows gratitude. Gratitude ultimately undergirds and fuels all genuine virtue, is the real basis of holiness, and the source of love itself. And its major fruit is forgiveness. When we are grateful we more easily find the strength to forgive.
Moreover, just as gratitude undergirds genuine virtue, forgiveness undergirds genuine religion and morality. Thus, as we get older, we can trim our spiritual vocabulary down to three words: Forgive, forgive, forgive! To age into and then die with a forgiving heart is the ultimate moral and religious imperative. We shouldn't delude ourselves on this. All the dogmatic and moral purity in the world does little for us if our hearts are bitter and incapable of forgiveness.
We see this, for instance, in the sad figure of the older brother of the prodigal son. He stands before his father protesting that he has never wandered, never been unfaithful, and that he has stayed home and done the family's work. But, and this is the issue, he stands outside the father's house, unable to enter into joy, celebration, the banquet, the dance. He's done everything right, but a bitter heart prevents him from entering the father's house just as much as the lustful wanderings of his younger brother took him out of that same house. Religious and moral fidelity, when not rooted inside of gratitude and forgiveness, are far from enough. They can leave us just as much outside the father's house as sin and infidelity. As Jesus teaches forcefully in the Lord's Prayer, a non-negotiable condition for going to heaven is forgiveness, especially our forgiving those who have hurt us.
But the struggle to forgive others is not easy and may never be trivialized or preached lightly. The struggle to forgive, I suspect, is our greatest psychological, moral, and religious struggle. It's not easy to forgive. Most everything inside of us protests. When we have been wronged, when we have suffered an injustice, when someone or something has treated us unfairly, a thousand physical and psychological mechanisms inside of us begin clam-up, shut-down, freeze- over, self-protect, and scream-out in protest, anger, and rage. Forgiveness is not something we can simply will and make happen. “The heart,” as Pascal once said, “has its reasons.” It also has its rhythms, its paranoia, its cold bitter spots, and its need to seal itself off from whatever has wounded it.
Moreover, all of us have been wounded. No one comes to adulthood with his or her heart fully intact. In ways small or traumatic, we have all been treated unjustly, violated, hurt, ignored, not properly honored, and unfairly cast aside. We all carry wounds and, with those wounds, we all carry some angers, some bitterness, and some areas within which we have not forgiven.
The strength of Henri Nouwen's greatest book, The Return of the Prodigal Son, was precisely to point out both the hidden cold places in our hearts and the mammoth struggle needed to bring warmth and forgiveness to those places. So much of the lightness or heaviness in our hearts, and most every nuance of our mood, is unconsciously dictated by either the forgiveness or the non-forgiveness inside us.
Forgiveness is the deep secret to joy. It is also the ultimate imperative.
Andrew Greeley, writing a review of Frank McCourt's book, Angela's Ashes, praised McCourt for being brilliant, but challenged him for being unforgiving with words to this effect: Granted, your life has been unfair. Your father was an alcoholic, your mother didn't protect you from the effects of that, you grew up in dire poverty, and you suffered a series of mini-injustices under the Irish social services, the Irish church, the Irish educational system, and the Irish weather! So, let me give you some advice: Before you die, forgive! Forgive your father for being an alcoholic, forgive your mother for not protecting you, forgive the church for whatever ways it failed you, forgive Ireland for the poverty, rain, and bad teachers it inflicted on you, forgive yourself for the failures of your own life, and then forgive God because life isn't fair ... so that you don't die an angry and bitter man because that's really the ultimate moral imperative.
How true and how challenging!
Saturday, September 10, 2011
A Concise History of the Rise and Fall of the Environmental Establishment How Green Became the Color of Money By JEFFREY ST. CLAIR
FRIDAY, APRIL 22, 2011
018 A Concise History of the Rise and Fall of the Environmental Establishment How Green Became the Color of Money By JEFFREY ST. CLAIR
Panda Porn
Back in the good old days, a corporation with an unappetizing relationship to the natural world would often try to burnish their image by luring an executive or top staffer from an environmental group onto their board or into their public relations department, where they could offer testimonials to the toxic firm's newfound reverence for Mother Earth.
But times have changed.
Now it's the environmental groups who seem to be on a shopping spree for corporate executives. For a ripe example of this repellent trend let us turn to the World Wildlife Fund. In December of 2002, WWF introduced Linda Coady, then a senior executive at Weyerhaeuser Co, as vice-president of the World Wildlife Fund's newly created Pacific regional office..
Weyerhaeuser is the great behemoth of the timber industry, which has rampaged through the rainforests of the Pacific Northwest leaving ruin and extinction in its wake. Weyerhaeuser has operated in Canada for many years, but in the late 1990s the company dramatically accelerated the pace of its clearcutting in British Columbia—in part, because it had largely liquidated its vast holdings in Washington and partly to flee the constraints of US environmental laws and lawsuits.
Before advancing to Weyerhaeuser, Coady sharpened her teeth at Macmillan-Bloedel, aka Mac-Blo. Macmillan Bloedel made billions by clearcutting all but the tiniest sliver of Vancouver Island before being bought out by Weyerhaeuser. (That sliver was spared only after 900 people got arrested for blocking logging roads in 1993. Needlesstosay, no World Wildlife Fund execs soiled their Gore-Tex rain jackets in those stormy protests.)
Neither company has ever shown the least regard for the rights of the First Nations of Canada, who lay claim to much of the remaining coastal forests of British Columbia. And the Canadian government has chosen to allow the timber companies to clearcut those lands before the claims have been settled. Indeed, Weyerhaeuser was sued by the Haida Nation for illegally clearcutting their land in the Queen Charlotte Islands, which they call Haida Gwaii.
"They've come and wiped out one resource after another," Guujaaw, chief of the Haida in British Columbia, told me. He notes that Weyerhaeuser logs the old growth and ships it straight to its mills in Washington State. The Haida get no money and no jobs. "We've been watching the logging barges leaving for years and years," said Guujaaw. "And we have seen practically nothing for Haida."
The moss-draped forests of British Columbia are even more vulnerable than those of Washington, Oregon and Alaska. There are few environmental laws to restrain the appetite of the timber companies and the environmental movement itself is understaffed and overwhelmed. Now, defenders of Canadian ancient forests must contend with a conservation group run by a timber executive.
The result of this mismatch shows up starkly on the ground, where the clearcuts ramble farther than the eye can see and the salmon, bears and birds of the deep forest are vanishing at a heartbreaking rate. At the top of the list is the northern spotted owl, the very symbol of the ancient forests of the Pacific Northwest. In the US, the owl is afforded a minimum level of protection under the Endangered Species Act.
But in Canada the reclusive raptor enjoys not even the pretense of such a safe harbor; its nesting and foraging habitat-200 to 800 year-old stands of Douglas-fir and Sitka spruce-are leveled without quarter or regret. As a result, scientists expect that the bird will soon go extinct, perhaps within the next decade.
"It feels like we are taking care of the dodo," said Ken Macquisten, a veterinarian and managing director of the Grouse Mountain Refuge for Endangered Wildlife. "We have gone from managing owl populations to managing individual birds."
With a Weyerhaeuser honcho running the biggest conservation group in the region, the prospects for the owl-and nearly every other creature that calls the deep forest home-seem bleak indeed.
Of course, it's hard to work up too much of a froth about this latest merger of clearcutters and self-advertised nature defenders. After all, the World Wildlife Fund functions more like a corporate enterprise than a public interest group. It practices retail environmentalism and has made millions upon millions hawking its panda logo, a brand as zealously marketed as Nike's "swoosh". But, of course, it's done almost nothing to save the panda, penned in by rampant deforestation and poaching, except peddle pictures to trophy wives and innocent third graders. Call it panda porn.
But the panda cash machine isn't the group's only source of money. The World Wildlife Fund also rakes in millions from corporations, including Alcoa, Citigroup, the Bank of America, Kodak, J.P. Morgan, the Bank of Tokyo, Philip Morris, Waste Management and DuPont. They even offer an annual conservation award funded by and named after the late oil baron J. Paul Getty. It hawks its own credit card and showcases its own online boutique. As a result, WWF's budget has swelled to over $100 million a year and it’s not looking back.
Where does all the money go? Most of it goes to pay for plush offices, robust salaries, and a tireless direct mail operation to raise even more money. In 2002, WWF's CEO, the icy Kathryn S. Fuller, pulled in a cool $250,000 a year, including benefits. This is the remorseless logic of modern environmentalism, in which non-profits are more obsessed with fundraising than the corporations that they are supposed to be battling. Indeed, the relentless cash hunt leads them serenely right into corporate boardrooms, hands out, mouth gagged.
Remember it was WWF that outraged many environmentalists and human rights activists by giving an award to Shell Oil, the company that stood mute as its partners in the murderous junta of generals that ran Nigerian lynched Ken Saro-Wiwa and 8 other environmentalists fighting Shell's foul operations on Ogoni land in the Niger River delta.
This self-induced moral blindness is par for the course. The World Wildlife Fund is one of those outfits that believes capitalism is good for the environment. It has backed nearly every trade bill to come down the pike, from NAFTA to GATT. WWF has also sidled up to some very unsavory government agencies advancing the same neo-liberal agenda across the Third World, including US AID.
The World Wildlife Fund is so paranoid about its image that it sued-and won-to force the World Wrestling Federation to change its name, lest it sully its "WWF" trademark. Of course, if you really care about the environment your money would probably be better spent by watching some World Wrestling extravaganza on pay-per-view rather than investing in a membership to WWF. At least, the wrestling provides some laughs. Your contribution to WWF will fatten the salary of a timber executive such as Linda Coady parading around in the guise of an environmentalist. It gives cross-dressing a bad name.
When the Haida launched their battle against Weyerhaeuser and its rich army of lobbyists and lawyers, Guujaaw observed: "You cannot buy the lifestyle we have with money."
It's a lesson that the environmental groups like World Wildlife Fund should take to heart before they discover that they've become little more than the well-paid zombies of the corporations they have gotten into bed with. But don’t hold your breath.
To be continued.
018 A Concise History of the Rise and Fall of the Environmental Establishment How Green Became the Color of Money By JEFFREY ST. CLAIR
Panda Porn
Back in the good old days, a corporation with an unappetizing relationship to the natural world would often try to burnish their image by luring an executive or top staffer from an environmental group onto their board or into their public relations department, where they could offer testimonials to the toxic firm's newfound reverence for Mother Earth.
But times have changed.
Now it's the environmental groups who seem to be on a shopping spree for corporate executives. For a ripe example of this repellent trend let us turn to the World Wildlife Fund. In December of 2002, WWF introduced Linda Coady, then a senior executive at Weyerhaeuser Co, as vice-president of the World Wildlife Fund's newly created Pacific regional office..
Weyerhaeuser is the great behemoth of the timber industry, which has rampaged through the rainforests of the Pacific Northwest leaving ruin and extinction in its wake. Weyerhaeuser has operated in Canada for many years, but in the late 1990s the company dramatically accelerated the pace of its clearcutting in British Columbia—in part, because it had largely liquidated its vast holdings in Washington and partly to flee the constraints of US environmental laws and lawsuits.
Before advancing to Weyerhaeuser, Coady sharpened her teeth at Macmillan-Bloedel, aka Mac-Blo. Macmillan Bloedel made billions by clearcutting all but the tiniest sliver of Vancouver Island before being bought out by Weyerhaeuser. (That sliver was spared only after 900 people got arrested for blocking logging roads in 1993. Needlesstosay, no World Wildlife Fund execs soiled their Gore-Tex rain jackets in those stormy protests.)
Neither company has ever shown the least regard for the rights of the First Nations of Canada, who lay claim to much of the remaining coastal forests of British Columbia. And the Canadian government has chosen to allow the timber companies to clearcut those lands before the claims have been settled. Indeed, Weyerhaeuser was sued by the Haida Nation for illegally clearcutting their land in the Queen Charlotte Islands, which they call Haida Gwaii.
"They've come and wiped out one resource after another," Guujaaw, chief of the Haida in British Columbia, told me. He notes that Weyerhaeuser logs the old growth and ships it straight to its mills in Washington State. The Haida get no money and no jobs. "We've been watching the logging barges leaving for years and years," said Guujaaw. "And we have seen practically nothing for Haida."
The moss-draped forests of British Columbia are even more vulnerable than those of Washington, Oregon and Alaska. There are few environmental laws to restrain the appetite of the timber companies and the environmental movement itself is understaffed and overwhelmed. Now, defenders of Canadian ancient forests must contend with a conservation group run by a timber executive.
The result of this mismatch shows up starkly on the ground, where the clearcuts ramble farther than the eye can see and the salmon, bears and birds of the deep forest are vanishing at a heartbreaking rate. At the top of the list is the northern spotted owl, the very symbol of the ancient forests of the Pacific Northwest. In the US, the owl is afforded a minimum level of protection under the Endangered Species Act.
But in Canada the reclusive raptor enjoys not even the pretense of such a safe harbor; its nesting and foraging habitat-200 to 800 year-old stands of Douglas-fir and Sitka spruce-are leveled without quarter or regret. As a result, scientists expect that the bird will soon go extinct, perhaps within the next decade.
"It feels like we are taking care of the dodo," said Ken Macquisten, a veterinarian and managing director of the Grouse Mountain Refuge for Endangered Wildlife. "We have gone from managing owl populations to managing individual birds."
With a Weyerhaeuser honcho running the biggest conservation group in the region, the prospects for the owl-and nearly every other creature that calls the deep forest home-seem bleak indeed.
Of course, it's hard to work up too much of a froth about this latest merger of clearcutters and self-advertised nature defenders. After all, the World Wildlife Fund functions more like a corporate enterprise than a public interest group. It practices retail environmentalism and has made millions upon millions hawking its panda logo, a brand as zealously marketed as Nike's "swoosh". But, of course, it's done almost nothing to save the panda, penned in by rampant deforestation and poaching, except peddle pictures to trophy wives and innocent third graders. Call it panda porn.
But the panda cash machine isn't the group's only source of money. The World Wildlife Fund also rakes in millions from corporations, including Alcoa, Citigroup, the Bank of America, Kodak, J.P. Morgan, the Bank of Tokyo, Philip Morris, Waste Management and DuPont. They even offer an annual conservation award funded by and named after the late oil baron J. Paul Getty. It hawks its own credit card and showcases its own online boutique. As a result, WWF's budget has swelled to over $100 million a year and it’s not looking back.
Where does all the money go? Most of it goes to pay for plush offices, robust salaries, and a tireless direct mail operation to raise even more money. In 2002, WWF's CEO, the icy Kathryn S. Fuller, pulled in a cool $250,000 a year, including benefits. This is the remorseless logic of modern environmentalism, in which non-profits are more obsessed with fundraising than the corporations that they are supposed to be battling. Indeed, the relentless cash hunt leads them serenely right into corporate boardrooms, hands out, mouth gagged.
Remember it was WWF that outraged many environmentalists and human rights activists by giving an award to Shell Oil, the company that stood mute as its partners in the murderous junta of generals that ran Nigerian lynched Ken Saro-Wiwa and 8 other environmentalists fighting Shell's foul operations on Ogoni land in the Niger River delta.
This self-induced moral blindness is par for the course. The World Wildlife Fund is one of those outfits that believes capitalism is good for the environment. It has backed nearly every trade bill to come down the pike, from NAFTA to GATT. WWF has also sidled up to some very unsavory government agencies advancing the same neo-liberal agenda across the Third World, including US AID.
The World Wildlife Fund is so paranoid about its image that it sued-and won-to force the World Wrestling Federation to change its name, lest it sully its "WWF" trademark. Of course, if you really care about the environment your money would probably be better spent by watching some World Wrestling extravaganza on pay-per-view rather than investing in a membership to WWF. At least, the wrestling provides some laughs. Your contribution to WWF will fatten the salary of a timber executive such as Linda Coady parading around in the guise of an environmentalist. It gives cross-dressing a bad name.
When the Haida launched their battle against Weyerhaeuser and its rich army of lobbyists and lawyers, Guujaaw observed: "You cannot buy the lifestyle we have with money."
It's a lesson that the environmental groups like World Wildlife Fund should take to heart before they discover that they've become little more than the well-paid zombies of the corporations they have gotten into bed with. But don’t hold your breath.
To be continued.
Jeffrey St. Clair is the author of Been Brown So Long It Looked Like Green to Me: the Politics of Nature and Grand Theft Pentagon. His newest book, Born Under a Bad Sky, is published by AK Press / CounterPunch books. He can be reached at: sitka@comcast.net.
This essay is excerpted from the forthcoming book GreenScare: the New War on Environmentalism by Jeffrey St. Clair and Joshua Frank.
For Our World: a poem written on 9/11 by Mattie Stepanek
For Our World, a poem written on 9/11 by Mattie Stepanek
in CONSCIOUSNESS
© Matthew Joseph Thaddeus Stepanek 1990 -2004
from Hope Through Heartsongs, Hyperion, 2002
Mattie Stepanek was 11 years old when he wrote this poem on the day of 9-11.
Sadly he passed away in 2004 after a long battle with Dysautonomic Mitochondrial Myopathy.
You can learn more about his brief, amazing, inspiring life at his website:
in CONSCIOUSNESS
For Our World
We need to stop.
Just stop.
Stop for a moment.
Before anybody
Says or does anything
That may hurt anyone else.
We need to be silent.
Just silent.
Silent for a moment.
Before we forever lose
The blessing of songs
That grow in our hearts.
We need to notice.
Just notice.
Notice for a moment.
Before the future slips away
Into ashes and dust of humility.
Stop, be silent, and notice.
In so many ways, we are the same.
Our differences are unique treasures.
We have, we are, a mosaic of gifts
To nurture, to offer, to accept.
We need to be.
Just be.
Be for a moment.
Kind and gentle, innocent and trusting,
Like children and lambs,
Never judging or vengeful
Like the judging and vengeful.
And now, let us pray,
Differently, yet together,
Before there is no earth, no life,
No chance for peace.
September 11, 2001
© Matthew Joseph Thaddeus Stepanek 1990 -2004
from Hope Through Heartsongs, Hyperion, 2002
Mattie Stepanek was 11 years old when he wrote this poem on the day of 9-11.
Sadly he passed away in 2004 after a long battle with Dysautonomic Mitochondrial Myopathy.
You can learn more about his brief, amazing, inspiring life at his website:
Thursday, September 8, 2011
The patriot's prayer
Since the U.S. invasion of Iraq in 2003, over 300 journalists have been killed, more than in any other war.
Heavenly Father, we pray that you will send your angels to protect those independent journalists who cover and report on the atrocities of war. They are targets of the U.S. military, because they are dangerous truth seekers, unafraid to speak truth to power; unafraid to report the war crimes that are invariably committed when the U.S. decides it needs to go to war to protect or expand the financial / power / political agendas of this nation's elites. It is these people, who would accumulate capital for the mere sake of capital's accumulation, who gain from war, and no other class of people does. Father we know that in WWII, 50% of the casualties were civilians; in Vietnam, 70%; in the Iraq Invasion, 90%. Father, we weep for these lives of your beloved children. Give us strength, Dear God, to become instruments of your peace. Give us the courage to march, even unto death, to put an end to the wars waged by the most savage nation on earth, our own country. Give us this courage, and shield the civilians, this we ask, Oh Lord, in the Name of Your Son Jesus Christ, who suffered death that we all might live, if it be Thy will. AMEN.
Tuesday, September 6, 2011
going to court tomorrow (again)!
The Lutheran Church of the Atonement, Barrington, IL has had 4 senior pastors: Arthur Knudsen who was sent to answer the call from the original five founding families - the Willits, the Bowens, and I can't remember the others, in 1963. In 1964, the church cornerstone was lain, and one of Barrington's two most unique architectural structures constructed (the other being the home built in the tree in North Barrington) - the Lutheran Church of the Sat Down Upon (or Ark), as I called it.
The most stunning thing to me has been that of the three white, American male senior pastors, two have been so unfit for the post - one, Marcus Gravdahl was fired for sexually harassing congregants and subordinates, and for not paying his Federal Income Taxes for 8 years running.
An assistant pastor, Pastor Randy, was fired for non-performance of the duties assigned to him by the senior pastor. Randy felt that his ministry was a 40-hour per week gigue to the youths only.
Pastor Said Ailabouni was assigned to be Marcus Gravdahl's assistant, but, as events transpired, within six months Said was the senior pastor, and served brilliantly for 15 years. He left Atonement to accept an ELCA offer to be pastor to the pastors of the ELCA in the Middle East and Africa - being a Palestinian (born in Nazareth) and an Arabic speaker, it was a natural fit, but his decision to accept was prompted in no small part because he did not want to have to deal with firing Pastor Randy.
That job fell on the shoulders of Don Wink, who came with a mandate to straighten up the Randy situation, and start a third service featuring contemporary Christian music. My bother-in-law, Michael, the man of all seasons and many talents was the leader of the bands for 10 years. My sister sang, and my son still drums witn one of the three praise band teams! Three Praise Band Teams, all with about 10 players.
In March of 2007, I e-mailed Pastor Don to take me off the church membership rolls. This he did not do (non-feasance). Hi non-feasance directly resulted in his subsequently denying me access to Sunday worship services (I sang too high, and talked with the praise team setting up), including Easter Sunday, of this year. He subcontracted the job of kicking my sweet ass out on Easter Sunday to Pastor Paul, and I left with no harsh words, telling Pastor Paul that I held him no animosity. I have always abided by Don's wishes. Pastor Paul duly reported to my mother that he had been told by Pastor Don that I would not be permitted to attend Easter Worship (I would served as an usher at St. Anne Roman Catholic Church in town later that morning - wondering what it is that they don't know about me that let's them let me volunteer to be of service?)
My mother told Pastor Paul, "That's not fair."
And for this reason, I did not want Pastor Don to officiate the celebration of her life. I called my dad to ask him to not ask Pastor Don - "already asked, this can't be changed, things are moving too fast," said dad, 96 hours in advance of the memorial service.
I called pastor Don to ask that he not officiate, "The family already asked me," he said.
ALL RIGHT ... NOW, I am pissed. I called my sister, "Gay, could you please ask dad to reconsider having another pastor officiate mom's celebration?" "We already ask ...
And I hung up, exhausted, having slept 3 of the last 72 hours, updated F/B sent e-mails to 500+ people, having put together my thoughts for what the service should be, as well as the obituary ... or at least rough working drafts of the same, and I broke down weeping.
I dialed 9-1-1 and the Grayslake EMT delivered me to Condell Meorial Hospital (one of the worst in the area) emergency room, where, in front of a shrink, and hooked to an IV, I threatened to kill Pastor Don.
A while later a social worker interviewed me, and asked if I still wanted to kill pastor don. I had changed my mind, "No," I said, "I want to kill his family."
Enter the psych ward --- ROFLMFAO!!
Staying 11 days -- missing mom's wake, the memorial (which I would not ave attended with jagoff officiating).
Later, I see my personal physician, and the conversation about Wink the Twink arises, and I tell Jim, "Why in the world would I ever want to return to Atonment? NO ONE, not one member of my family, nor one of the congregants, some of whom I have known for 47 years ever complained to Pastor Don about his whimsical discrimination against me (a 60-year old, mentally ill, totally disabled, Muslim)!"
"I'll talk to Don tomorrow," says Jim.
And two days later, the Cook County Sheriff police hits me up with an order of protection ordering me to stay at least 500 feet away from Wink the Twink, and his family.
But, at least, NOW, I know where he lives (was too lazy to look it up).
And so, will have to come within 500 feet of him tomorrow, BECAUSE the stupid ball buster filed the fucking order.
Am fairly delighted with the prospect!
issued two prayer requests at my new home church, asking them to pray for Don for insight and understanding.
But, I forgot what a wimply coward he has turned out to be!
And so, THAT is why I pray for him for courage!
I wonder what prayers he is praying for me?
The most stunning thing to me has been that of the three white, American male senior pastors, two have been so unfit for the post - one, Marcus Gravdahl was fired for sexually harassing congregants and subordinates, and for not paying his Federal Income Taxes for 8 years running.
An assistant pastor, Pastor Randy, was fired for non-performance of the duties assigned to him by the senior pastor. Randy felt that his ministry was a 40-hour per week gigue to the youths only.
Pastor Said Ailabouni was assigned to be Marcus Gravdahl's assistant, but, as events transpired, within six months Said was the senior pastor, and served brilliantly for 15 years. He left Atonement to accept an ELCA offer to be pastor to the pastors of the ELCA in the Middle East and Africa - being a Palestinian (born in Nazareth) and an Arabic speaker, it was a natural fit, but his decision to accept was prompted in no small part because he did not want to have to deal with firing Pastor Randy.
That job fell on the shoulders of Don Wink, who came with a mandate to straighten up the Randy situation, and start a third service featuring contemporary Christian music. My bother-in-law, Michael, the man of all seasons and many talents was the leader of the bands for 10 years. My sister sang, and my son still drums witn one of the three praise band teams! Three Praise Band Teams, all with about 10 players.
In March of 2007, I e-mailed Pastor Don to take me off the church membership rolls. This he did not do (non-feasance). Hi non-feasance directly resulted in his subsequently denying me access to Sunday worship services (I sang too high, and talked with the praise team setting up), including Easter Sunday, of this year. He subcontracted the job of kicking my sweet ass out on Easter Sunday to Pastor Paul, and I left with no harsh words, telling Pastor Paul that I held him no animosity. I have always abided by Don's wishes. Pastor Paul duly reported to my mother that he had been told by Pastor Don that I would not be permitted to attend Easter Worship (I would served as an usher at St. Anne Roman Catholic Church in town later that morning - wondering what it is that they don't know about me that let's them let me volunteer to be of service?)
My mother told Pastor Paul, "That's not fair."
And for this reason, I did not want Pastor Don to officiate the celebration of her life. I called my dad to ask him to not ask Pastor Don - "already asked, this can't be changed, things are moving too fast," said dad, 96 hours in advance of the memorial service.
I called pastor Don to ask that he not officiate, "The family already asked me," he said.
ALL RIGHT ... NOW, I am pissed. I called my sister, "Gay, could you please ask dad to reconsider having another pastor officiate mom's celebration?" "We already ask ...
And I hung up, exhausted, having slept 3 of the last 72 hours, updated F/B sent e-mails to 500+ people, having put together my thoughts for what the service should be, as well as the obituary ... or at least rough working drafts of the same, and I broke down weeping.
I dialed 9-1-1 and the Grayslake EMT delivered me to Condell Meorial Hospital (one of the worst in the area) emergency room, where, in front of a shrink, and hooked to an IV, I threatened to kill Pastor Don.
A while later a social worker interviewed me, and asked if I still wanted to kill pastor don. I had changed my mind, "No," I said, "I want to kill his family."
Enter the psych ward --- ROFLMFAO!!
Staying 11 days -- missing mom's wake, the memorial (which I would not ave attended with jagoff officiating).
Later, I see my personal physician, and the conversation about Wink the Twink arises, and I tell Jim, "Why in the world would I ever want to return to Atonment? NO ONE, not one member of my family, nor one of the congregants, some of whom I have known for 47 years ever complained to Pastor Don about his whimsical discrimination against me (a 60-year old, mentally ill, totally disabled, Muslim)!"
"I'll talk to Don tomorrow," says Jim.
And two days later, the Cook County Sheriff police hits me up with an order of protection ordering me to stay at least 500 feet away from Wink the Twink, and his family.
But, at least, NOW, I know where he lives (was too lazy to look it up).
And so, will have to come within 500 feet of him tomorrow, BECAUSE the stupid ball buster filed the fucking order.
Am fairly delighted with the prospect!
issued two prayer requests at my new home church, asking them to pray for Don for insight and understanding.
But, I forgot what a wimply coward he has turned out to be!
And so, THAT is why I pray for him for courage!
I wonder what prayers he is praying for me?
Monday, September 5, 2011
From Kathleen Harris, one of God's Holy Warriors
Wishing You...Peace, Love and Joy . . . Always and Forever August 30, 2011
As has probably been mentioned by someone or other, suffering from Post Traumatic Stress Disorder (aka PTSD) can be a bit like unknowingly entering and blithely traversing a psychic mine field.
Let's see if I can make that a bit more vivid.
It may have to do with the time space continuum in a way. If I come off sounding like I am trying to describe a Magritte surrealist painting to a person who is only familiar with Andy Warhol's creations, I apologize. If that is necessary. To me, a PTSD-affected spiritual landscape is one that has become fraught with subterranean camouflaged pot holes, automobile-swallowing ditches and incendiary devices. And perhaps there are also some pathways that seem like they should be familiar or that used to have clear sign posts now seem to lead to unsuspected destinations and undesirable locations.
Now.
Uh-oh. Have I already lost you?
Or maybe you would rather not continue on the journey with me. If so, I understand.
No harm, no foul.
But these images have been lurking in my consciousness lately, and just tonight I realized why.
The pot holes, mine fields, and deceptive pathways minus familiar sign posts are triggered by the anniversaries of traumatic events or time periods. Even if I go out of my way not to be in touch with the fact that the anniversaries are coming up or upon me, my psyche never forgets. So it's just that the end of August and the beginning of September are times when a lot of exciting and/or traumatic things happened to me.
The even stranger thing is that there are not necessarily uniform ways of experiencing whatever comes up from the underground or appears along a pathway. And the image of mine fields may give you the impression that there is a stark flat plain stretching in all directions when actually there also might be dark forests, or even jungles . . . and/or the mysteries of a deep and wide open ocean.
Often the PTSD episode triggers become evident when I find myself awake all night for one or more nights in a row or several over a short period of time. At first I may tell myself that there is no reason not to be able to sleep, but I am always trying to fool myself when I say that. It is more likely that sleep is elusive because there is no desire to enter into the level of consciousness that leaves me open to the dream state.
Or maybe something from the nocturnal musings of the days leading up to the sleepless nights has already broadcast warnings about the approach to the mine field. Be that as it may, once I really do get back connected with the date, I am forced to confront the reality. Addressing that reality head on does not necessarily help much, however.
That reminds me of the old Air Force saying that begins a lot of war stories. The stories start with: "There I was . . . flying along fat dumb and happy. . . " The story continues with whatever was horrendous, terrifying, difficult and/or shocking, but somehow the storyteller survives.
I guess one of the reasons that things are traumatic is that they come out of nowhere and are so shocking and disturbing that you really can't get your mind around them.
Ever.
I agree with the sentiment expressed by Robin Williams when he said:
"Reality . . . what a concept!"
Even though it may be that some sort of past reality intrudes on contemporary life, the PTSD episode always seems to be more powerful than whatever is going on in the present. Or maybe it's just that whatever the present reality is cannot quite compete with the past "reality." And the traumatic memories can be so vivid that they can tend to make the present reality seem to fade away into the background.
Or even to disappear.
And even more than that sometimes the imagination interjects itself into the memories and the present reality so that there are stacked levels of elements surrounding and enhancing memories, musings, illusions and allegories.
Probably not much of that is really making any of this any clearer, is it?
When I am able to talk to friends who were involved in the trauma I find it helpful, but I also realize then that none of us experienced what happened in the same way. What happened affected and continues to affect (or doesn't continue to affect) each one of us in various ways.
Of course.
How could it be otherwise? Each of us is a distinct individual with a variety of distinct personalities and experiences.
Our lives intersected with one another for that particular time or times and we came to those points from different places and went our separate ways to reconnect with one another again possibly one on one . . . or with several of us or with some of us. Or never again with most or even all of us. At least not yet. or maybe not ever on this terrestrial plane.
As a case in point, not long ago I saw some Armed Forces Television Network dramatizations concerning two soldiers who were wounded in the recent past. They both suffered from PTSD. One was given a chance to talk about the trauma with professional counselors from the earliest time of his physical recovery. The other soldier did not have a chance to communicate with anyone about what had happened to him until a long while after he was released back into civilian life. Each was able to get help, but the latter suffered more and for a longer length of time. Go figure!
Seeing the segments aimed at encouraging military members who have been affected by PTSD to seek help as soon as possible was encouraging since so many veterans are being added to the roles.
And I recently saw the movie "Random Harvest" again, too. (Have you ever watched it? Greer Garson and Ronald Coleman are marvelous in the story about the effects of battle fatigue on a British soldier in WW I.) So even though the term PTSD had not been coined back in the early 20th century, I was reminded that people have been suffering with the condition from way back. (No doubt as long as man's inhumanity to men has been extant.)
There are ways to put the memories to rest and to keep the ghosts at bay.
But actually sometimes I look forward to being with my dearly departed once more. They are all loving and kindly spirits even if they are just as I have imagined them. Or remembered them.
There are times that seem overloaded with intertwining layers of memories because there were different traumatic experiences that happened at the same time of the year -- or even on certain particular dates of multiple years, so that somehow the PTSD trash compactor has smooshed them all together and it's difficult to discern which presenting traumatic memories come from where. Or when.
There also might be organic or atmospheric or astronomical (or other) factors involved in the fertilizing compost heaped up in my psyche. And too much digging around into all that would not be really helpful anyway, no doubt.
But the traumas are not necessarily all negative. Sometimes great joys can trigger recurring disturbances, too. Both positive and negative emotions can be draining, energizing or enervating. Not sure I can always choose which one of those at any particular time.
Because certainly to begin with . . . in my earliest memories the joys of getting to go back to school every Tuesday after Labor Day were fraught with excitement. And tension. And anticipation. So onto those layers of emotional memories were added the adult traumatic adventures that happened to have occurred around the same time.
For instance last year when over 200 of the members of our high school class got together for the first time in ten, twenty, thirty or forty years (or all of the above, or even more or less often), there was a special kind of traumatic experience.
In a good way.
But it reminded me of the other groups of friends I had gone through stuff with when I was on active duty in the Air Force. And when I was at Seminary. And when I was serving churches.
Et cetera. Et cetera. Et cetera. (As the King of Siam was quoted as saying in "The King and I.")
Know what I mean?
Well, even if you don't, by writing this I seem to have diffused the most powerful psychic mines in my way tonight, and I seem to have recovered the sign posts on some of the obscured pathways.
So thanks for hanging in there with me as I wandered around trying to explain it all to you.
That was a big help!
And God bless us, every one.
As ever -- Kathy
Be Blessed
"Blessed are the poor in spirit: for theirs is the kingdom of heaven. Blessed are they that mourn: for they shall be comforted. Blessed are the meek: for they shall inherit the earth. Blessed are they which do hunger and thirst after righteousness: for they shall be filled. Blessed are the merciful: for they shall obtain mercy. Blessed are the pure in heart: for they shall see God. Blessed are the peacemakers: for they shall be called the children of God."
Matthew 5:3-9
As has probably been mentioned by someone or other, suffering from Post Traumatic Stress Disorder (aka PTSD) can be a bit like unknowingly entering and blithely traversing a psychic mine field.
Let's see if I can make that a bit more vivid.
It may have to do with the time space continuum in a way. If I come off sounding like I am trying to describe a Magritte surrealist painting to a person who is only familiar with Andy Warhol's creations, I apologize. If that is necessary. To me, a PTSD-affected spiritual landscape is one that has become fraught with subterranean camouflaged pot holes, automobile-swallowing ditches and incendiary devices. And perhaps there are also some pathways that seem like they should be familiar or that used to have clear sign posts now seem to lead to unsuspected destinations and undesirable locations.
Now.
Uh-oh. Have I already lost you?
Or maybe you would rather not continue on the journey with me. If so, I understand.
No harm, no foul.
But these images have been lurking in my consciousness lately, and just tonight I realized why.
The pot holes, mine fields, and deceptive pathways minus familiar sign posts are triggered by the anniversaries of traumatic events or time periods. Even if I go out of my way not to be in touch with the fact that the anniversaries are coming up or upon me, my psyche never forgets. So it's just that the end of August and the beginning of September are times when a lot of exciting and/or traumatic things happened to me.
The even stranger thing is that there are not necessarily uniform ways of experiencing whatever comes up from the underground or appears along a pathway. And the image of mine fields may give you the impression that there is a stark flat plain stretching in all directions when actually there also might be dark forests, or even jungles . . . and/or the mysteries of a deep and wide open ocean.
Often the PTSD episode triggers become evident when I find myself awake all night for one or more nights in a row or several over a short period of time. At first I may tell myself that there is no reason not to be able to sleep, but I am always trying to fool myself when I say that. It is more likely that sleep is elusive because there is no desire to enter into the level of consciousness that leaves me open to the dream state.
Or maybe something from the nocturnal musings of the days leading up to the sleepless nights has already broadcast warnings about the approach to the mine field. Be that as it may, once I really do get back connected with the date, I am forced to confront the reality. Addressing that reality head on does not necessarily help much, however.
That reminds me of the old Air Force saying that begins a lot of war stories. The stories start with: "There I was . . . flying along fat dumb and happy. . . " The story continues with whatever was horrendous, terrifying, difficult and/or shocking, but somehow the storyteller survives.
I guess one of the reasons that things are traumatic is that they come out of nowhere and are so shocking and disturbing that you really can't get your mind around them.
Ever.
I agree with the sentiment expressed by Robin Williams when he said:
"Reality . . . what a concept!"
Even though it may be that some sort of past reality intrudes on contemporary life, the PTSD episode always seems to be more powerful than whatever is going on in the present. Or maybe it's just that whatever the present reality is cannot quite compete with the past "reality." And the traumatic memories can be so vivid that they can tend to make the present reality seem to fade away into the background.
Or even to disappear.
And even more than that sometimes the imagination interjects itself into the memories and the present reality so that there are stacked levels of elements surrounding and enhancing memories, musings, illusions and allegories.
Probably not much of that is really making any of this any clearer, is it?
When I am able to talk to friends who were involved in the trauma I find it helpful, but I also realize then that none of us experienced what happened in the same way. What happened affected and continues to affect (or doesn't continue to affect) each one of us in various ways.
Of course.
How could it be otherwise? Each of us is a distinct individual with a variety of distinct personalities and experiences.
Our lives intersected with one another for that particular time or times and we came to those points from different places and went our separate ways to reconnect with one another again possibly one on one . . . or with several of us or with some of us. Or never again with most or even all of us. At least not yet. or maybe not ever on this terrestrial plane.
As a case in point, not long ago I saw some Armed Forces Television Network dramatizations concerning two soldiers who were wounded in the recent past. They both suffered from PTSD. One was given a chance to talk about the trauma with professional counselors from the earliest time of his physical recovery. The other soldier did not have a chance to communicate with anyone about what had happened to him until a long while after he was released back into civilian life. Each was able to get help, but the latter suffered more and for a longer length of time. Go figure!
Seeing the segments aimed at encouraging military members who have been affected by PTSD to seek help as soon as possible was encouraging since so many veterans are being added to the roles.
And I recently saw the movie "Random Harvest" again, too. (Have you ever watched it? Greer Garson and Ronald Coleman are marvelous in the story about the effects of battle fatigue on a British soldier in WW I.) So even though the term PTSD had not been coined back in the early 20th century, I was reminded that people have been suffering with the condition from way back. (No doubt as long as man's inhumanity to men has been extant.)
There are ways to put the memories to rest and to keep the ghosts at bay.
But actually sometimes I look forward to being with my dearly departed once more. They are all loving and kindly spirits even if they are just as I have imagined them. Or remembered them.
There are times that seem overloaded with intertwining layers of memories because there were different traumatic experiences that happened at the same time of the year -- or even on certain particular dates of multiple years, so that somehow the PTSD trash compactor has smooshed them all together and it's difficult to discern which presenting traumatic memories come from where. Or when.
There also might be organic or atmospheric or astronomical (or other) factors involved in the fertilizing compost heaped up in my psyche. And too much digging around into all that would not be really helpful anyway, no doubt.
But the traumas are not necessarily all negative. Sometimes great joys can trigger recurring disturbances, too. Both positive and negative emotions can be draining, energizing or enervating. Not sure I can always choose which one of those at any particular time.
Because certainly to begin with . . . in my earliest memories the joys of getting to go back to school every Tuesday after Labor Day were fraught with excitement. And tension. And anticipation. So onto those layers of emotional memories were added the adult traumatic adventures that happened to have occurred around the same time.
For instance last year when over 200 of the members of our high school class got together for the first time in ten, twenty, thirty or forty years (or all of the above, or even more or less often), there was a special kind of traumatic experience.
In a good way.
But it reminded me of the other groups of friends I had gone through stuff with when I was on active duty in the Air Force. And when I was at Seminary. And when I was serving churches.
Et cetera. Et cetera. Et cetera. (As the King of Siam was quoted as saying in "The King and I.")
Know what I mean?
Well, even if you don't, by writing this I seem to have diffused the most powerful psychic mines in my way tonight, and I seem to have recovered the sign posts on some of the obscured pathways.
So thanks for hanging in there with me as I wandered around trying to explain it all to you.
That was a big help!
And God bless us, every one.
As ever -- Kathy
Be Blessed
"Blessed are the poor in spirit: for theirs is the kingdom of heaven. Blessed are they that mourn: for they shall be comforted. Blessed are the meek: for they shall inherit the earth. Blessed are they which do hunger and thirst after righteousness: for they shall be filled. Blessed are the merciful: for they shall obtain mercy. Blessed are the pure in heart: for they shall see God. Blessed are the peacemakers: for they shall be called the children of God."
Matthew 5:3-9
Thursday, September 1, 2011
One difference between Republicans and Democrats
Republicans pretty much admit that they grasp and even endorse some of the nastiest facts of life in America. Republicans honestly tell the world: "listen in on my phone calls, piss-test me until I'm blind, kill and eat all of my neighbors right in front of my eyes, but show me the money! Let me escape with every cent I can kick out of the suckers, the taxpayers, and anybody else I can get a headlock on, legally or otherwise."
The Incomprable Dave Somersby Latches on to Something Important
Special report: Imagine all the people!
PART 1—HE COULDN’T IMAGINE MCCORMACK (permalink):
We humans tend to get in trouble when we imagine all the people—more precisely, when we try to imagine what “those people” in the other tribe must be like.
Consider what happened when Jon Fasman tried to imagine what those tea party people are like.
Fasman engaged in his large-scale musing for the Economist. As he started, he acknowledged that conservatives don’t have to be slobbering racists. He even noted one of Ed Schultz’s latest racism-pimping blunders, an absurd group attack for which Big Ed apologized the next night. Still and all, Fasman just couldn’t help wondering: What the heck are those people like?
What do those people think and feel? Pondering forty million people, Fasman imagined them thusly:
FASMAN (8/23/11): Nostalgia for mid-century America and racism are not synonymous. But what exactly do these voters want? Do older white conservatives miss the high taxes and powerful unions of mid-century America? Dismissing Soviet power is easy today; then it was not. The threat of global nuclear war was real. Would they prefer a nuclear-armed foe that controls much of Europe? Like Matthew Yglesias, I also find it hard not to think that when older white conservatives lament the loss of "the America they grew up in", they are lamenting the loss of their own social privilege. It's true that America today is in some ways profoundly different from the one into which John Boehner was born in 1949. And I am willing to concede that life may well have been better for Mr Boehner, and for many other white, Christian heterosexual Americans back then (although I wonder what chance a 60-year-old Catholic son of a bartender from Reading, Ohio would have had at becoming Speaker of the House in 1949). Quotas kept immigration from Asia, Latin America and Africa low, and of course blacks, Jews, Catholics, women and gays knew their place. Is that what older white conservatives miss? And if not, what, exactly, do they want their politicians to "champion"?
Frankly, Fasman was puzzled. He wondered about what “these voters” want—but instead of attempting to ask some voters, he simply began to imagine. He found one possibility “hard not to think;” soon he was imagining the worst about those people. (Do they want to keep blacks, Jews, Catholics, women and gays in their place?) But by the time his rumination was through, he was still deeply puzzled:
“If not, what, exactly, do they want their politicians to ‘champion?’ ”
Fasman had tried to imagine all the people. It seemed that he had struck out.
Alas! When we start imagining things, we tend to get in trouble. Just consider one of the things Fasman couldn’t seem to imagine. Magnanimously, Fasman was willing to concede that life may well have been better for John Boehner, and for many other white, Christian heterosexual Americans, back in 1949. (Boehner was a newborn then, but you get the idea.) At the same time, he “wondered what chance a 60-year-old Catholic son of a bartender from Reading, Ohio would have had at becoming Speaker of the House” in that benighted year.
Fasman knew that the American people were slobbering racists back then. He also seemed to imagine that they would never have tolerated a Catholic son of the working class in a position of high respect. Fasman was imagining grandly know, stroking his inner thigh as he did.
Here at THE HOWLER, we looked up the bio of Boston’s own, Speaker John McCormack. It’s true—McCormack didn’t become speaker of the House until 1962. But he was House majority leader as early as 1940, and this is the way Wikipedia describes his religion and class background:
WIKIPEDIA: McCormack was born to Joseph H. McCormack, a hod carrier, and Ellen (n�e O'Brien) McCormack. His parents were both the children of Irish immigrants who had arrived during the Irish potato famine in 1848. There were 12 children, of whom three survived to adulthood. McCormack was 13 when his father died; he quit school after the eighth grade to help support his widowed mother and family as a $3-a-week errand boy for a brokerage firm. His career began when he shifted to a law firm for a 50-cent raise and studied law on the side. Attending law school at night, he passed the Massachusetts bar exam in 1913 at age 21 without having completed high school.
[…]
In 1920, McCormack married Harriet Joyce, a former singer; the couple had no children. While Congress was in session, they lived at the Washington Hotel. Their devotion to each other was legendary; it was said that they never spent a night apart until she died. If the Speaker was kept late on business, his wife always went up to have dinner with him. She died in December 1971, aged 87. For more than a year, he had spent every night in an adjoining hospital room. He then went home to Boston the following month, after his retirement.
McCormack had few hobbies except politics. In earlier days, he was known as a good high stakes poker player. He had never flown in an airplane until 1961, when he attended Rayburn's funeral. He drove the 450 miles from Washington to Boston or went up on the night sleeper train.
The Speaker and his wife were devout Roman Catholics. Both were honored by the Vatican. He was the first Catholic to be elected Speaker, and some critics complained that this religion sometimes showed in his leadership qualities. An example cited was the 1961 school aid debacle when McCormack insisted that church schools should share in a federal aid program. The bill died on this issue. But in 1963 McCormack helped push through the largest education program in history, much of which went to public institutions only.
For the record, those “12 children, of whom three survived to adulthood,” were in fact McCormack and his siblings. According to newspaper reports at the time he died, McCormack was one of twelve kids, three of whom survived.
Is there some distinction we’re missing here? As Fasman imagined the world of the past, it seems he couldn’t imagine McCormack. But then, when we let ourselves start to imagine, we often find ourselves painting pictures which don’t correspond to real life.
Kevin Drum took a bit of offense to Fasman’s post (just click here). We agree with the basic thrust of Drum’s reaction, though we thought he took a few liberties too, doing a bit of imagining. But so it goes when we, The Good and True Tribe, decide to imagine all the people, forty million at a time.
What are “those people” actually like? Bigots have always been able to imagine the answer, down through the annals of time.
Tomorrow: Kevin’s reaction
PART 1—HE COULDN’T IMAGINE MCCORMACK (permalink):
We humans tend to get in trouble when we imagine all the people—more precisely, when we try to imagine what “those people” in the other tribe must be like.
Consider what happened when Jon Fasman tried to imagine what those tea party people are like.
Fasman engaged in his large-scale musing for the Economist. As he started, he acknowledged that conservatives don’t have to be slobbering racists. He even noted one of Ed Schultz’s latest racism-pimping blunders, an absurd group attack for which Big Ed apologized the next night. Still and all, Fasman just couldn’t help wondering: What the heck are those people like?
What do those people think and feel? Pondering forty million people, Fasman imagined them thusly:
FASMAN (8/23/11): Nostalgia for mid-century America and racism are not synonymous. But what exactly do these voters want? Do older white conservatives miss the high taxes and powerful unions of mid-century America? Dismissing Soviet power is easy today; then it was not. The threat of global nuclear war was real. Would they prefer a nuclear-armed foe that controls much of Europe? Like Matthew Yglesias, I also find it hard not to think that when older white conservatives lament the loss of "the America they grew up in", they are lamenting the loss of their own social privilege. It's true that America today is in some ways profoundly different from the one into which John Boehner was born in 1949. And I am willing to concede that life may well have been better for Mr Boehner, and for many other white, Christian heterosexual Americans back then (although I wonder what chance a 60-year-old Catholic son of a bartender from Reading, Ohio would have had at becoming Speaker of the House in 1949). Quotas kept immigration from Asia, Latin America and Africa low, and of course blacks, Jews, Catholics, women and gays knew their place. Is that what older white conservatives miss? And if not, what, exactly, do they want their politicians to "champion"?
Frankly, Fasman was puzzled. He wondered about what “these voters” want—but instead of attempting to ask some voters, he simply began to imagine. He found one possibility “hard not to think;” soon he was imagining the worst about those people. (Do they want to keep blacks, Jews, Catholics, women and gays in their place?) But by the time his rumination was through, he was still deeply puzzled:
“If not, what, exactly, do they want their politicians to ‘champion?’ ”
Fasman had tried to imagine all the people. It seemed that he had struck out.
Alas! When we start imagining things, we tend to get in trouble. Just consider one of the things Fasman couldn’t seem to imagine. Magnanimously, Fasman was willing to concede that life may well have been better for John Boehner, and for many other white, Christian heterosexual Americans, back in 1949. (Boehner was a newborn then, but you get the idea.) At the same time, he “wondered what chance a 60-year-old Catholic son of a bartender from Reading, Ohio would have had at becoming Speaker of the House” in that benighted year.
Fasman knew that the American people were slobbering racists back then. He also seemed to imagine that they would never have tolerated a Catholic son of the working class in a position of high respect. Fasman was imagining grandly know, stroking his inner thigh as he did.
Here at THE HOWLER, we looked up the bio of Boston’s own, Speaker John McCormack. It’s true—McCormack didn’t become speaker of the House until 1962. But he was House majority leader as early as 1940, and this is the way Wikipedia describes his religion and class background:
WIKIPEDIA: McCormack was born to Joseph H. McCormack, a hod carrier, and Ellen (n�e O'Brien) McCormack. His parents were both the children of Irish immigrants who had arrived during the Irish potato famine in 1848. There were 12 children, of whom three survived to adulthood. McCormack was 13 when his father died; he quit school after the eighth grade to help support his widowed mother and family as a $3-a-week errand boy for a brokerage firm. His career began when he shifted to a law firm for a 50-cent raise and studied law on the side. Attending law school at night, he passed the Massachusetts bar exam in 1913 at age 21 without having completed high school.
[…]
In 1920, McCormack married Harriet Joyce, a former singer; the couple had no children. While Congress was in session, they lived at the Washington Hotel. Their devotion to each other was legendary; it was said that they never spent a night apart until she died. If the Speaker was kept late on business, his wife always went up to have dinner with him. She died in December 1971, aged 87. For more than a year, he had spent every night in an adjoining hospital room. He then went home to Boston the following month, after his retirement.
McCormack had few hobbies except politics. In earlier days, he was known as a good high stakes poker player. He had never flown in an airplane until 1961, when he attended Rayburn's funeral. He drove the 450 miles from Washington to Boston or went up on the night sleeper train.
The Speaker and his wife were devout Roman Catholics. Both were honored by the Vatican. He was the first Catholic to be elected Speaker, and some critics complained that this religion sometimes showed in his leadership qualities. An example cited was the 1961 school aid debacle when McCormack insisted that church schools should share in a federal aid program. The bill died on this issue. But in 1963 McCormack helped push through the largest education program in history, much of which went to public institutions only.
For the record, those “12 children, of whom three survived to adulthood,” were in fact McCormack and his siblings. According to newspaper reports at the time he died, McCormack was one of twelve kids, three of whom survived.
Is there some distinction we’re missing here? As Fasman imagined the world of the past, it seems he couldn’t imagine McCormack. But then, when we let ourselves start to imagine, we often find ourselves painting pictures which don’t correspond to real life.
Kevin Drum took a bit of offense to Fasman’s post (just click here). We agree with the basic thrust of Drum’s reaction, though we thought he took a few liberties too, doing a bit of imagining. But so it goes when we, The Good and True Tribe, decide to imagine all the people, forty million at a time.
What are “those people” actually like? Bigots have always been able to imagine the answer, down through the annals of time.
Tomorrow: Kevin’s reaction
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