Chili with Tuna
Leaves are brilliant and colorful
and collect life-giving light
the palms of a tree
each a masterpiece of art
without them the tree would not live,
and we would have nothing to breathe
but the best part is
when you're hiking or
running through the woods
as I have many times
after drinking the night before
and eating chili with tunafish (again)
and you're short on toilet paper,
...good for the haht,
the more you eat
the more you faht,
maybe it's time you ate sloweh
or watched the kind of foodstuffs you combine it with in your intestines
You Think You Got It Bad?
"A method of execution by this is recorded: captured British soldiers were spread out and fastened with restraints to the ground, then a stick, or a piece of wood was used to keep their mouth open to prevent swallowing. Pathan women then squatted and urinated directly into the mouth of the man until he drowned in the urine, taking turns one at a time."
Fun Stat of the Day
There are now 41,415 species on the IUCN (International Union for the Conservatio of Nature) Red List, and 16,306 of them are endangered species threatened with extinction. I'm sure all of these species made the list, however, because they always have, with no help from us...Natural process etc etc...
Up and Down
Jimmy acquires wealth. He spends it on the house that will one day be his (he prays). He spends it on his food, so that he will be full when he gets around to eating it. He spends it on his gravestone, and to pay the lawyer for writing his will. He thinks about his childhood. He plays sports and games with family and friends on the playground of his mind.
Jimmy is now only when he showers, has sex, lifts weights, drives his car.
But driving his car is also a task spread over distance: his dwelling and the place he is going to.
He does not veer from this up and down path; even his morning drive is not horizontal: it is movement in space and time across a gulf, and it is traveled within his own small tube. Lifting weights takes him in his tube from weak to strong, having sex from ammassed energy to release, and showering from frustration and anger to purity.
A plant, an animal, and indigenous people spread their wealth, and their time, horizontally–with others. Without others they fail, so it makes sense to treat these others with the respect and dignity they would also appreciate. Their investments are always for the moment, to make each the best possible one for all parties involved.
“I love the feeling of the fresh air on my face and the wind blowing through my hair.”
For those readers born after the 1970s, and have no idea what ABC’s Wide World of Sports was, Montana-born Even Knievel was a daredevil who excelled at riding motorcycles and breaking bones in his body. The Guinness Book of Records states that he had 433 bone fractures by 1975. He must have been paid for this talent, and well, because he was worth $3 million dollars when he died.
Coincidentally, he also attempted more than 75 ramp-to-ramp jumps, some of which ended with him upright, and with no injuries.
Evel’s first jump was over a 20-foot box filled with rattlesnakes and two mountain lions.
Wonder what the animals thought about the event?
Though the jump was successful, he did sprain an ankle. His second jump, in 1966, saw him leap over 2 pick-up trucks and come down safely. Success! His third jump a few weeks later was without a motorcycle and long before Woody Harrelson provided us with the valuable axiom Evel would have been thankful for: “White Men Can’t Jump” (1992).
He decided to try and jump, spread-eagled, over a speeding motorcycle. Mr. Knievel jumped a tad late and the bike hit him in the groin, tossing him 15 feet in the air. He would never attempt the feat again.
Through ’66, ’67, and ’68 Knevel made his reputation as a man able to leap a line of cars with a motorbike, which is something. At least he challenged his fears.
While in Vegas in ’67, Evel became infatuated with the idea of leaping over the Caesar’s Palace fountain. On Dec. 31, 1967, Evel placed a bet at the blackjack table with his last $100 (he lost), drank a Wild Turkey at the bar, and went outside to race the devil. He steered his Triumph Bonneville towards the point of no return. Shooting skyward, he gloriously roared past the spewing water eruptions and almost made it safely to the landing ramp before crashing hideously (though not as bad as a later copycat, who, among other injuries, had his aorta ripped from his heart after “someone moved [his] landing ramp during the night”). Evel said later his bike curiously decelerated on the incline, which led to his shortage of oomph!
He also attempted to jump the Snake River Canyon in a custom built rocket whose parachute opened prematurely, and, despite the fact that he was over the opposite side of the canyon, the wind soon caught the ’chute and blew him back to the near side of the river, where he crash-landed.
Evel once said:
“You can't ask a guy like me why I performed. I really wanted to fly through the air. I was a daredevil, a performer. I loved the thrill, the money, the whole macho thing. All those things made me Evel Knievel. Sure, I was scared. You gotta be an ass not to be scared. But I beat the hell out of death. [...] You're in the air for four seconds, you're part of the machine, and then if you make a mistake midair, you say to yourself, "Oh, boy. I'm gonna crash," and there's nothing you can do to stop it, not at all..”
He also said the words beginning this..thing, which about sums up the role of Nature in his, and our, lives. While we’re cruising down the highway of life, earning our livelihoods, Nature breathes its zesty breath through our hair, and over our face, giving us the impression that we are alive, and that our efforts somehow jell with the natural world around us.
Until we crash and all of our bones are mashed; or we catch cancer or realize (finally) that most of the jobs we are doing are stupid, and benefit no one and nothing at all.
The Sun, Fat and Yellow, Sets Slowly
We are sitting on rocks overlooking the Mediterranean, and the waves lap and spray at us, slightly out of reach. If we get wet, we get wet-the water is glorious, fresh and clean and cool. The afternoon sun shines in our faces as we sit and recite three things we are grateful for, other than the sunset. I hear her voice for the 12 millionth time and it may as well be the first–I never tire of it, it never wastes a breath. The sunlight carves a bowl in the mountains behind the Spanish coast.
We only list off our three things, but our lists could go on forever. Most of all we feel blessed to watch this masterpiece, knowing we need no wealth, no cars or jewelry or any other object, no home, no influential friends, no correct religious or secular doctrines, no fake boobs or even makeup for that matter to enjoy it.
We have everything we need right where we are, and we are in the right place at the right time.
And when the sun rises tomorrow, we'll be facing in the opposite direction, watching the sun paint the day new. It's wonderful to be with someone who gets it.
Wait, is this supposed to be fiction?
Undercover Amish, A [Gulp] Real Book!
The two most important pieces of information I can give you about this revolutionary new novel (2016) are: 1), there is a woman on the cover dressed in Amish tracht? garb? duds? and she is walking through grass? crops? while packing a piece (pow piece), and 2), that the book is called “Undercover Amish.”
If you are wondering why this piece (written piece) has a snide tone to it, or, heaven forbid, you are already considering delving into this literary work, I urge you emphatically to revisit your life choices. There must be a reason why you are this way.
The book tells the story about the strong, independent, intelligent, successful, and beautiful detective Olivia Mast who doesn’t care about outward beauty (because of her Amish background) yet still sports a totally in ’do. After murdering her abusive husband and watching her house burn down or something she leaves the Amish lifestyle behind and becomes, logically, a successful detective.
Small world, suddenly a case happens and her superiors in the “Covert Police Detectives Unit,” hands tied, pressure her to return to the Maine Amish community she swore she would never revisit to stop whoever from murdering someone named Isaac who is strong and handsome and independent and will most certainly become a love interest.
Oliver, or whatever her name is, instantly discovers the murderer is after Isaac because of reasons, which leads directly to a gripping manhunt with maybe a chase scene and a surprise plot twist at the end that will leave readers everywhere cathartic, like during ‘MacBeth.’
But let’s hear some official reviews:
“I enjoyed this book, it covers lots of emotions from religion, love, life as an Amish community and law enforcement action. I recommend to any one that enjoys a good read. (5 stars)”[have just consulted with my Emotional Chartographer, who assures me that "religion,"“life as an Amish community” and “law enforcement action” are powerful emotions on the Moldinger end of the spectrum, between Angst, Frustration, Sympathy, and the feeling one gets after being selected for jury duty].
“Detective Olivia Mast use to be Amish.”-Awwww!! How could I look down on a book like this after a review like that?
“I literally read this book in two days, it was a quick read and kept me captivated, I love this new author and she is from Maine! So exciting. I ordered more books from her today from Amazon can’t wait to read the next in this series! I am a sucker for Amish mysteries then throw in some romance and you got me! ”-I’ll stop this review there and tell you she felt glad she ordered the books around Christmastime, since she could also order a copy for her mother! Also, “Maine! So exciting..”?? Maine is beautiful and peaceful and I highly recommend it but exciting? I guess you could say the same about golf if you really wanted.
The words that jump out to me here are “it was a quick read,” and “it kept me captivated.” Audiences are not picky anymore, they are not demanding, they expect nothing Earth-moving, and wouldn’t have the time for it even if there was something exceptional out there. Also: “Throw in some romance.” Now there’s someone who understands the art of writing!
The cover galls me because anyone who knows anything about the Amish is aware of their commitment to non-violence. Now that Olidia is no longer one of them, and has accepted violence as good, apparently she must also take over the role of civilizing helper to save the community incapable of doing it for themselves. On an unrelated note, there have been Amish in America since the mid-1700′s, and are doing fine, with or without Oliver Mast.
I guess what I find most disgusting is that there are at least four people I know personally on Prose whose writing would mop the floor with this garbage. If the world were just, I would be writing about them here, in a completely different tone
We are all given, freely, this gift of Life by Mother Nature. It is up to us what we do with that gift. I understand we all have our crosses to bear, we all have familial responsibilities, lives to lead, bills to pay, fashions to keep up with, husbands to satisfy, and pets that we have to shower love and attention with (presumably because no one else wants it), but the last time I checked, no one has gone around forcing others to take up these crosses.
If you you feed yourself with garbage, well, you are what you eat..
My final question is directed at the ladies out there. Is this...person what you would like to content yourself with? If this Olexandra person were real, would she really live a fulfilling life? Is she a role model to be emulated? Yes, she overcame tragedy and a toxic relationship, but is she not ensnared in another one with society, and with her boss?
I don’t know, perhaps I’m too quick to judge. I haven’t read the book and have no plans to, but maybe it’ll surprise me. Maybe I’ll try it.
Over/under is at 8 pages.
What a stoopit way to spell a word. Not only gots it the repulsive 'eu' combo, as in maneur, which is then followed by a, get this, 'v' (I've looked it up), but the slick wordmakers also tried throw a curve in there by putting a 'r' afterwards! Which is like trying to swing a tank 'round a steep hairpin turn at top speed on an icy Swiss Alp while wearing a blindfold with too many clauses and without losing control of the vehicle. And what happened to the 'e?' I distinctly remember "maneuvere" having an 'e' or five someplace and now it's gone!
This must have been the language god who gave us 'schism.' And 'chthonic.'
What's wrong with the good ol' Iowan* 'manuvable?'
*-No Iowans were intentionally harmed in the making of this picture.
The Glory of the Hunt
In contrast to persons believing this post will be another in a long list of liberal do-gooder posts seeking to take other’s guns away, I will instead discuss another issue.
South Dakota is sparsely populated. Since it is, Nature is afforded a wonderful playground to hone its creative and life-giving talents without the influence of a supposedly superior hand. The resulting wildlife paradise has naturally beckoned hunters from far and wide to prove their manhood and shoot something.
100,000 of these “backyard soldiers”–more than the state’s second largest city–stream to South Dakota each year, but the problem these mostly male persons create has nothing to do with wlidlife. Or guns. Directly.
October 16th is the highly anticipated pheasant season opener, where good-time camaraderie and traditions mix with sport and, almost certainly, alcohol. The resulting “testosterone cocktail” has ill effects for the native population, and by native I mean Native.
13% of South Dakota’s population is Native American, but 40% of sex trafficking victims are Native girls and women. Guns and alcohol, and men, make up three wonderful ingredients needed to promote interest in the endeavor, one which targets Native American women and children. The economic situation on the reservations is less then ideal; there are broken homes galore where people living in permanent desperation and often battling substance abuse make up an endless source of “new meat.”
There is nothing wrong with these girls that a few blankets, some food, and maybe $100 won’t fix, assuming they are “grateful”–appears to be the motto.
I do not ask you to lay down your gun, Johnny. I do not ask anyone to steer clear of South Dakota. I merely request you respect the world, and the people around you. Beauty and health are already in short supply.