A WAKE-UP CALL FOR SELF-DEFEATING IDEALISTS

The realm of politics, as has been observed, has much in common with making sausage. It’s messy, even bloody, seldom includes premium ingredients. And there’s butchery at points.

Look, if Donald Trump wins the White House, everything Jill Stein stands for in a Green Revolution’s toast. It doesn’t take long to destroy the hard-gained agencies we have, much less to strip-mine hillsides and rip up forests. That’s why a vote for Stein is a vote against a Green agenda — it’s blatantly a vote against Hillary Clinton. If you think there’s no difference in the major parties on this issue, you’re deluding yourself. Or listen to what Trump thinks about real women like Clinton and Stein.

There’s a huge gap, too, between articulating policy and implementing it, as well as moving from the ivy tower into nitty-gritty management overseeing a host of federal agencies. You want to get anything done, you’re going to get dirty. It’s the nature of working with others. It’s the reality of winning battles, too.

Radical movements have a history of fragmenting, as Christopher Hill notes looking at the waves of ferment during the English civil wars and Protectorate.

Let’s not do it again. Rally around Hillary Clinton and regroup later, on the high ground.

PICKING THE RIGHT, RIPE WILD BERRIES

I keep thinking about the stories children are taught, especially here in America. Carol Bly once wrote of the Scandinavian tales the descendants in Minnesota never heard, unlike the mass-media mishmash they were served. I’m left wondering if Ohio ever had anything like Kokopelli or Coyote from Native American lore and wisdom. I can keep hoping.

The fact is, most Americans are estranged from their roots. We don’t even know where we live, not really.

Forget the Zombie Apocalypse, we rarely know how to select the healthy wild berries. Leave it at that.

As for the hornpipe? It’s a Celtic dance, faster and more complicated than a jig – or gigue, if you insist. But I also like the vision of a pipe carved from a horn and played.

Care to join me for a dance?

Kokopelli 1~*~

For your own copy, click here.

 

WATCH YOUR TONGUE … AND THE ADULTS IN TANDUM

As I observed at the time …

Language. At age seven, eight, and ten, each in the band of boys has acquired a filthy tongue. Incredibly obnoxious. Many of us adults are offended. Some have complained to the management. Now the word comes down. “Hey, Dirk, you hear? We can’t use bad words no more.”

“Who complained?”

Like, “Let’s get ‘em!”

We adults need to stand together. Firmly. Before the little bastards overrun us.