You never know what we'll churn up in cleaning a stall
Banana Republicans
(It’s not an original phrase, but useful.)
Well, let’s see. Banana Republics were company-owned countries managed by puppet dictatorships relying on intimidation and militarized police for the benefit of a few to the detriment of the public.
The new twist sounds like a foreign policy coming home to roost like a ghost from the past.
Anyone else feeling spooked?
Immigration Removal Services.
These are real families, not trash or vermin. And it’s not a service but hard-hearted and brutal persecution of a largely racial nature.
Shame, shame, shame.
I smell a skunk crossing darkness, somewhere outside the dark window.
Some promises are fulfilled.
Some are broken.
Some go up in smoke.
What would life be without them?
I feel a certain satisfaction in sending off utility bills with a T.rex postage stamp and a Nature Conservancy return-address label attached to the envelope.
You know, a recognition of the raw-material source of their business and its bigger cost on the planet … an Earth House Hold awareness of an economy.
Like Zen, my mind works in strange ways, and this is how I too often see things.
I can imagine a Buddhist sutra in which two monks observe the sign. They’re walking, of course, rather than driving.
The first says something pithy asking how Zen, being nothing, can do anything, much less work.
And the second replies that work’s nothing, too. But it’s not lazy.
Better, I suppose, than “ZZZ Working,” which many assume while passing the usual sign and seeing the crew standing by idly.
If you like this, please clap with one hand.
down to the aged oak
barrel bottom
twilight river
rosy, rolling
fish leap
then it’s down
like a shot
in one swallow
Jnana's Red Barn 