Quick, Someone Get Pollina That Credit Card
August 1, 2008 | Leave a Comment
Yikes. Given the recent financial disclosure submitted by one-time Democrat, one-time Rainbow Party, two-and-a-half-time Progressive Party and now half-time Independent candidate, Anthony Pollina, we now know why he put his silly little credit card idea so front and center in his campaign for governor: The poor lad is out of cash. Yo Tony, credit or debit?
Yesterday marked the financial disclosure-filing deadline for any statewide candidate who has spent or raised more than $500. And the paperwork submitted by the mainstream media’s top three gubernatorial candidates – Pollina, Gaye Symington and Jim Douglas – looked remarkably like the candidates themselves. Pollina’s was pathetic (only $20,000 left), Symington’s was bland, and Douglas’ was what one would expect from a spoiled incumbent Republican (loaded).
Other than the fact that it looks like another cakewalk for an incumbent in this election, the news from the filings should focus on what losers the left is putting up against Douglas – especially in a year in which St. Obama is expected to mop up in Vermont. Pollina, for example, was a distant third in the race for the cash, despite the fact that he was the first to announce his candidacy, didn’t have a job to distract him from his run, and had made the claim last January that he had raised more than $100,000 at that point. If we take his $100,000 claim to be true, that means Pollina only raised about $60,000 in the seven months since then. Ouch. So he either lied back then or he’s been pathetic since then – choose one.
Now that he’s losing the campaign cash war, Pollina will soon be playing the campaign finance reform card. And while I’m all in favor of reining in the money chase, I think it’s more than ironic that it was Pollina who was (falsely?) thumping his campaign war chest last December while trying to scare away any Democratic Party challenger. Way back then, amassing and trumpeting great campaign wealth was essential for Pollina. But now that he’s getting his financial clock cleaned by both of his main opponents, money is bad, bad, bad for politics. In Pollina’s Hypocrisy We Trust.
My guess is that Pollina will seek to stop the bleeding to his already seriously damaged political reputation and drop out of this race before he has to officially file as an Independent in September. Between now and then the writing will be on the wall: The money will be drying up, the polls will be dismal, and he’ll get all kinds of pressure from the liberal elite to bag it or never come calling again. From my perspective, his new and phony “Independent” label was his first step out of the race. And it will make his last step – an endorsement of Symington – much easier in September. Remember, Pollina is pals with – and a financial grantee of – Symington’s husband, Chuck Lacy. We shall see.
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Speaking of Pollina, congrats to Shay Totten of Seven Days for being the first Vermont journalist to jump into the smarmy waters of Pollina’s Vermont Milk Company. Via Blurt, Totten reported on the latest round of layoffs at the company and the dairy company’s continued financial strain. Totten also made note of the fact that Pollina changed his official campaign biography with regard to his relationship to the company after news of its failure to pay farmers came to light. Pollina’s original bio declared that he “ran the company.” But after the financial shit hit the fan, Pollina changed his bio to read that he was merely on the board of the company. Nice.
Louis Porter of the Vermont Press Bureau tried to follow Totten’s lead with his own version of the story in the Time Argus/Rutland Herald. But Porter – not surprisingly – took the tepid route and ignored Pollina’s biography fudging and, instead, let Pollina’s mismanagement be explained away by the tough financial times for everyone. Well, that ignores the fact that there are many food/ag entrepreneurs in the Vermont Milk Company’s Hardwick region who are flourishing (and growing) in these tough economic times. Look, for example, at Vermont Soy, Jasper Hill, High Mowing Seeds and the Food Venture Center – they’re all booming.
Sorry, but the problem with the Vermont Milk Company was that it had a dinosaur-like business plan being “run” by a political debutante with no business experience. Remember, it shunned organic in a time when organic is king in the marketplace. And its first big product was an overly plasticized “single-serving” shot of a – say what? – creamie. Yes, I just wrote about the Vermont Milk Company in the past tense. Because, it’s over up there. The only thing keeping the doors open for now are the secret Pollina contributors who were rushed in to keep it open until after the election.
Let’s hope one of those more competent and visionary Hardwick-area foodies can at least take over the facility once the Vermont Milk Company officially becomes another casualty of the Pollina touch.
I’ve Got Issues
July 28, 2008 | 4 Comments
It’s Monday. I’m random. Let’s pretend. And blog.
First, an apology: Sorry, Mom, I forgot to take out the trash. Well, back in 1979. But it’s been eating at me and I think it’s one of those things that my therapist calls an anchor to my further achievement in life. I’ve got to cut loose of those things or, sooner or later, I’ll find yourself sitting in front of a blank day or a blank page and thinking about it. Thus, instead of filling the day or the page, I’ll harbor guilt about it (read: distraction). Worse, the guilt can quickly morph into resentment (i.e. why the fuck didn’t my brother take it out?). Not good – either way.
There. I feel better. Well, except for now I’m thinking about the time I ran my bicycle into my brother’s bike and messed up his spokes. Sure, he beat the holy shit out of me for it but I still feel terrible. It’s probably because I think I forgot to apologize. I must have been self-absorbed in my own pain from the beating. But that’s no excuse. My therapist tells me that responsibility and guilt must not be masked by one’s sense of pain as a result of vigilante-like justice dished out by the one you’ve harmed. Okay, he didn’t really say that. But I’ve seen him enough over the years that I can picture him saying it.
Now I’m feeling all paranoid that my therapist is going to read this blog. I’m going to need to apologize the next time I see him. Listen, I’ll say, I feel terrible about putting words in your mouth and then publishing those words for others to read. And then he’ll probably cool-headedly remind me that he doesn’t really give two-shits about blog posts since, as he’s reminded me before, “blogs are the last refuge for failed writers.” Come to think of it, I think he owes me an apology.
Or maybe he won’t even know about these little conversations I’m having with him on my own time. But should he? It doesn’t feel right to keep things from the person who’s trying to help you sort things out. No, make that: the person you’re paying to help you sort things out. That would be kind of like having a cleaning person and then closing half the doors in the house and attaching notes that declared “Do Not Enter” on them. What sense would that make?
Well, unless you’re paying by the hour. Maybe that’s it: I’m a cheap bastard. I’m purposely trying to control the information I give to my therapist so that I can save money on the therapy. Of course: I’m being thrifty. This is good. I’m taking control – even better. I think he’d actually like this if I told him. But I’m not, which makes it all kind of weird in a therapy kind of way.
I guess I should ask him about it. And perhaps even tell him about all of this. Because I just feel guilty. Oh fuck, now I’m feeling guilt over my relationship with the one I’m paying to help me deal with the guilt I have toward others in my life. Worse, I feel the urge to rather defiantly say that, “This. Is. Not. Me.” But who the hell else would it be? This is me. This is my story. And this is my blog.
Fuck.
And I know why this is happening. It’s Monday. I’ve spent too much time over the last several days digesting mainstream news and mainstream politics. And it’s making me crazy. It speeds everything up in a crazy-making kind of a way. You know how it is, you read about stuff that seems frustrating and even crazy but, at the same time, you find yourself relating to it. Thus begins your own slippery descent into the frustrating and the crazy.
I’ve read about, for example, how the Europeans loved Obama but didn’t notice any substance. No shit. And about how a drunk man shot his lawn mower because he was pissed that he couldn’t get it to start. Makes sense to me. And about how Manny Ramirez of the Red Sox is pissed at his employer for not committing to giving him another $40 million for the next two years even though he gave them that power in the contract he signed eight years and $130 million ago. Workers of the world, unite! And about how Madonna is tired. Yo, girl, pick a palace and rest in it. And about how the ex-golfer Gary Player had this to say about the current player, Phil Mickelson: “EVERY time he walked, you could see his breasts bouncing all over the place.” Too much information, thank you. And about how new enthusiasts of the “eat local” movement are now hiring their own gardeners to come and plant gardens in their yards so that they can score one of those coveted “win-win” situations by both eating local and not getting dirty (or working, for that matter). Oh, Wendell Berry, you were right: “Movements kill everything.”
You get the point. It’s all crazy making. And I’m not going to play. Instead, I’m going to get to the bottom of all of this on Friday – my next appointment with my therapist. I’m not cutting any corners. I’m not holding any cards. I’m not saving any money. I’m going in with all my crazy guns blazing and declaring that I, sir, am bat-shit crazy over the ninniness that has engulfed my life.
Oh nevermind. Because I already know what he’s going to say: Stop reading the news. Of course.
I’m sorry about all of this. I hope you’ll understand.
How much do I owe you?
Pollina to the Public (once again): Nevermind
July 22, 2008 | 5 Comments
The mood of the day in the Vermont media and blogosphere was one of shock, shock, shock over the announcement that the Progressive Party’s leader and co-founder, Anthony Pollina, decided to ditch his own political party and, instead, run as an independent for the position of Vermont’s governor. But none of us should have been shocked, especially if we’ve been following the whiplash-like switchbacks and flip-flops of Pollina’s rather miserable political career. If there’s anything Pollina does better than losing elections (o-for-whatever since the 1980s), it’s waffling, meandering and otherwise just floundering in the shallow end of his ideological pool.
Instead of being shocked, we all should have felt a little sheepish about watching the latest political wreckage of the latest Pollina campaign. I know, I know, you don’t really want to look at the wreck but you just can’t help it – especially with the Vermont media covering it as if it somehow matters.
Pollina’s bizarre yet predictable dissing of the political party he had only moments before anointed as “the answer” to Vermont’s political troubles is what we can only hope will be one of his last political acts. It reeks of desperation. You know, kind of like one of those “hey, look at me” antics of the ornery child in the corner – anything for just one more moment of attention.
If Pollina were to pull these kinds of stunts in most any other political climate besides the sleepy and incestuous political climes of Vermont, he would have been relegated to the laughing stockpile many elections cycles ago. Instead, in the comfy cocoon of the Vermont media and political elite, Pollina has been able to keep his name in play despite mountains of desperation, piles of losses, and a mere small valley of supporters. Hey, it sure beats Jersey, huh Tony?
For me, the worst part of the these all-too-frequent Pollina flip-flops is his apparent disregard and even disdain for his followers (few as they may be at this point) – all while parading in a charade of “caring for the little guys and gals.” Pollina, for example, is known for getting up on his high-horse and spewing his mostly borrowed rhetoric for causes such as campaign finance reform, fighting for farmers and building alternative political parties (yes, he said “parties”). But when it gets hot in Pollina’s political kitchen, he more often than not runs for the back door, leaving his guests with little but his stale rhetoric to pick over as they realize their “leader” has left the building.
Remember, Pollina loved campaign finance reform when he was rolling in $300,000 of the state’s money but suddenly found it objectionable when it didn’t fit his latest political goals. Similarly, Pollina loved to rail against the big, bad corporate dairies that were ripping off small farmers until, that is, he started his own dairy corporation and began ripping off small farmers. And now Pollina wants us to somehow ignore nearly a decade of his rhetoric about the essential importance of building his Progressive Party.
Pollina’s political career could be summarized as one, big “nevermind.” Emily Litella’s got nothing on Tony.
The most laughable spin of Pollina’s latest “nevermind” moment is his campaign’s assertion that his sudden adoption of the “independent” label will somehow amount to his reincarnation as what must be the immaculate conception of Bernie Sanders’ political son. Give me a break. Sure, in the shallowest of shallow interpretations, Pollina running as an “independent” is similar to Bernie’s many, many runs as an “independent.” But, other than the use of word “independent,” the similarities stop there.
First of all, Bernie won elections. And, more importantly, Bernie won LOCAL elections and built a formidable movement based on his political consistency (“people are suffering…”) and local election victories to vault him to where he is now.
Sorry, Tony, but you would have never seen Bernie Sanders touting a silly “credit card” as even the most remotest of “solutions” to Vermont’s economic woes. Earth to Tony: When the state wants a “certain percentage” of our purchases, we call that a “tax.” And, currently, the state is getting 6% off of every purchase. Besides, there is absolutely nothing “progressive” about promoting “credit” (read: debt) as a solution to our state’s economic woes. But I’ll bet those Republicans that the Pollina campaign claims to be targeting will love the idea of debt. Bush does.
While Pollina is aiming for the Sanders’ mantle, it would be more accurate to equate him with the Democratic fink known as Joe Lieberman. Yeah, you know, the guy who loved the Democratic Party’s warm glow when he was its vice-presidential candidate or getting its institutional support when fending off the liberal Ned Lamont, but just as quickly turning his back on it when he thought it would be best for him, and him alone.
The ugly truth in this latest Pollina “nevermind” is that he lied to his supporters and to the people of Vermont. He baited us with a decade of rhetoric about the importance of his “third party” and then switched when he thought it was best for him, and him alone. Worse, Pollina invoked the rhetoric of being against “party in-fighting” while, at the same time, managing to diss all parties – including his own. Go figure. Or, rather, nevermind.
Last Sunday, Pollina sat and watched as Peter Diamondstone of the state’s other major party, Liberty Union, got handcuffed and arrested for trying to participate in the first debate of gubernatorial candidates. Pollina said nothing. He refused to defend him. Instead, Pollina sat silently on his hands as he watched Diamondstone be forcefully removed and arrested for trying to bring his views forward, all the while knowing that the next morning he would be abandoning his own “major” party.
That, my friends, should tell us a lot about Anthony Pollina’s character. Please, oh please, let this be Pollina’s last campaign.
Don’t worry, Tony, we’ll remember you with your own favorite word: Nevermind.
Salad Days
July 18, 2008 | 2 Comments
Things have changed. I’m different now. But still the same. Nothing new there.
Oh yeah, I’m a lucky man. I shed skin like the seasons. I dream and I follow those dreams. I get hung up and I move on. It’s better that way.
But some things stay the same: Wife, daughter, farm, and the joy of saying good morning to the possible. Like I said, I’m a lucky man.
Lately, I’ve found myself deep in what Gary Snyder called the “real work.” It’s summer, you know. And that means getting ahead on the woodpile, getting the hay in for the horses (660 bales last week), dancing and romancing in a garden that sings soothingly to me that everything is going to be alright, and finding one swimming hole after another to leap into, float and wash away the grime of an honest day’s work and the ninny thoughts of this and that.
This, my friends, is how it should be.
I’m a lucky man. I don’t do anything special, really. I just dream. And I refuse to buy the company plan. It doesn’t make me rich. But it gives me freedom. And hope. Priceless.
You’ve got one time around. Use it. I am.
[About the photos below: That’s my niece, Laurel, and me on the tractor last night. She’s been visiting for the week with her mother, Jen, my wife’s sister. When I asked her if she wanted me to go hook up the horse to the cart for a ride she said she’d rather learn how to drive a tractor. And so it was. And there she goes. She’s from Berkeley, California. Not many tractors in that neighborhood. And I can still hear her screaming. Later, she asked if they (she and my daughter, Bel) could ride in the bucket. Why the hell not? Anything to terrify the mothers, right? Especially when I “dumped” them on top of the lumber pile.]
On Stupid Questions, Pie throwing, Waterboarding, Parading, and The Feelies
July 7, 2008 | 3 Comments
Oh boy, they weren’t kidding when they said the air quality was going to be bad today. Yikes. Let’s give a big “thanks” to the Ohio River Valley for all their coal burning, eh? One…two…three: Fuck you. There, I feel better.
Because, earlier, I was trying to continue my pursuit of being the firewood king of this little section of this little road in this little town in this little state (hey, you gotta start somewhere). But, after awhile, I felt like I was moving in air that was more akin to syrup than freshness. And then my hypochondriacal mind heard the weather forecast saying: bad air, bad air, bad air. Up went the pulse, out went the initiative, and in went I – straight to the hot office, the fan, the music and the yearning to play blogger boy.
So, let’s get some random stuff off the desk.
First up: Politics. Nancy Remson of the Burlington Free Press asked the most ridiculous question in the blogosphere late last week in her post, “Iraq War Cost.” Here’s the money quote from the short blog entry:
The war has been an important issue for some Vermonters. Candidates such as Congressman Peter Welch, D-VT, and perhaps those running for governor could be asked questions about the toll the war is taking on Vermont.
Ya think? Other than that, I just want to cry.
Speaking of politics, the Vermont media and blogosphere is abuzz about the pie that Governor Jim Douglas (R-VT) took to his face during Montpelier’s Fourth of July parade last week. Since I’m sure that anyone who cares about this issue has already read and commented about it, I’ll steer clear of the specifics.
Instead, I’d like to focus on the kindergarten-like partisan reaction that the incident has received from the good Democrats – mostly in blogland. In short, they thought it was great, funny, deserved or otherwise just a hoot (opinions that I can mostly agree with since I’m all in favor of good political theatre).
But wait. Aren’t these the same people who got their panties in a knot over the efforts of the anti-war crowd to hold Democratic Congressman Peter Welch’s feet to the fire by asking him –gasp – “yes or no” questions about his position on the War on Iraq? Yes, they were.
So, to these folks, pushing a pie in the face of the governor is “great” but asking a congressman who has been waffling on the war to answer “yes or no” about his positions on that war is “grandstanding,” “rude,” “cheap,” and “counter-productive.”
Got it.
In other words, it depends on your party affiliation. And that, my friends, is why I detest party affiliations and the dumbed-down rationale that accompanies them.
I can’t imagine, for example, the “outrage” these folks would have expressed if anyone – from the left or the right – had done the same thing to one of their darlings, Leahy, Sanders or Welch. Or, worse, image the indignation if their hero-of-the-moment, Obama, got a pie?
Get real, folks. Or, better yet, trade those cheerleading outfits in for some thinking caps. And soon.
Speaking of ninnies, did you see the video of Christopher Hitchens of Vanity Fair undergoing some waterboarding treatment? Priceless. Click here and see it. Now. Besides kinda-sorta-maybe enjoying seeing this bloated bastard getting the waterboarding treatment, I was left asking this question: Why, Christopher Hitchens, are you so goddamn stupid?
For those who didn’t click on the link, let me explain. Hitchens, you see, was pro-waterboarding until he actually subjected himself to it. But, for those amongst us with some brains, a semi-working conscience, and some imagination, we didn’t need to actually go through a waterboarding demonstration to realize that, yes, it IS both terrifying and torturous to go through. Duh.
What’s next, Hitch? You gonna check and see if a lethal injection is, indeed, lethal? You go, boy.
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Oh yeah, the parade. Yes, we made it through the Montpelier parade last Thursday without a hitch. Well, actually, we did have a hitch: two mighty draft horses that did us proud and pulled a wagon-full of wavers. The horses belonged to horse-logger Paul Ruta, and yours truly got to sit in the co-pilot’s seat “just in case.” Well, there was no “just in case,” so I got to wave just like Miss Vermont. Take that, Boots.
And for those wondering what the hell I was doing on a float that carried a “Pollina for Governor” poster on it, let me explain: I’m just a damn nice guy. It turns out that the other “helper/teamster” invited, Duffy Gardener, is married to a Pollina devotee and former employee, Krista Harness. We had one of those moments that John Stewart would describe as “aaawwwkkkwwwaaarrrddd” when she arrived with her Pollina sign. And when Paul asked her where she wanted to put it, she glanced at me and responded that “some people here aren’t Pollina supporters.”
“That would be me,” I interjected.
But then she tucked the sign inside the wagon and declared that she’d be happy to just hold it if necessary.
Not wanting to rain on the parade mood (image that), I told her she could do whatever she wanted with her sign. And Paul had the great suggestion that since I was going to ride on the left side of the driver’s bench, she could put it on the right side of the wagon. Perfect, I’m to the left of Pollina – even on a horse hitch. But those plans changed when, shortly before the parade started (and after the sign was affixed), teamster Paul asked me to switch sides with him.
‘Nuf said on that.
The parade was a hoot. Paul and his horses did great. The only real drama came while we hitched and drove them from the Two Rivers Center out near Agway into town on our “practice” night and the night of the parade. Let’s just say that drivers on Route 2 at rush hour aren’t two considerate of horses and horse speed. Bastards. But we survived. And better yet, we got ‘dem horses through the parade without incident and with many a cheer.
But, I’m convinced, the cheers would have been louder from the right side without that goddamn Pollina poster.
Finally, I would be remiss if I didn’t send out one, big, jealous “fuck you” to my brother, Todd, who recently posted this little missive on his blog regarding his trip to the Sonic Youth/The Feelies concert in Brooklyn last weekend. Ah, two of my all-time favorite bands. Check out his Feelies links in a previous post. They’re fantastic.
Now, please, let me get back to the bad air. I’ve got peas to pick.
Carry on.
Let’s Go Parading…
July 3, 2008 | 2 Comments
It’s a go: My friend, Paul Ruta, and I will be trotting and walking his team of logging horses through the Montpelier parade tonight (July 3rd). We made a test run last night, hooking the trusty old pair out at the Two Rivers Center and then taking them for a spin into – and through – downtown Montpelier. For those planning to be amongst the 20,000 people expected, give us a shout out. We won’t be hard to miss. But, just in case, here’s what you’ll be looking for: Doc & Magnum, a Belgian and Percheron, a big green wagon, signs that declare, “Horse Loggers for Peace,” a smiling and very happy ten-year old girl and two stiff and sore horse-logging fellas trying not to get testy with one another. Like the horses, we do better in the woods. Should be interesting.
Life Blogging (and a wee-bit of politics)
June 30, 2008 | 1 Comment
Yeah, yeah, yeah, I’m still around. Just busy. And parenting. But, lucky you, my daughter’s sick with strep-throat on the sofa so it’s an “inside” day for me and I’ve got a few minutes for words. Speaking of the child, I got one of those great rites of parenting again today while taking her to the doctor’s office. Yeah, you know the story: “Dad, I think I’m going to throw up.” And before I could empty the change jar and give it to her – whoosh – the front-seat of the truck was – well – watered. This too shall pass.
On other matters, the barn-straightening project led to the sawmill project – getting my logs milled into some fine rough timbers for the next phase of Operation Save-the-Barn. So far, so good.
Another fine local fella, Wayne Richardson, and his trusty partner in the portable sawmill business, Roy Richardson, arrived last week to get the process going. Wayne’s 81 years-old and still working daily with the not-so-small sawmill he tows behind his truck to various sites around the region to make lumber out of logs. It’s quite impressive.
I’ve been sitting on a large pile of saw logs for a couple of years, a nice mix of hemlock, spruce, fir and some very wide pine. All of it was drawn out with my trusty horse, Big Jim, with the occasional help from his former partner, Big John (R.I.P.). And, oh yeah, my “mentor,” Boots, was kicking around the woods with me from time to time, too. [The previous sentence was inserted so as to prevent a snarky response to this post. Trust me, it won’t work – but I tried.]
I love the smell, look and feel of fresh-milled wood. I especially like the big timbers, the 6×6’s and 8×8’s – and most of what’s being cut for me now are 6×6’s that will be used for posts for the barn and, I hope, the frame for a sauna. And most of these are being milled out of the big and heavy hemlock logs. Rot resistant, for sure. But heavy as all hell, too. For now, though, they’re just nicely stacked, drying, and teasing me with all the possibilities: have wood, will build.
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If I had the time for politics, I’d say this: Anthony Pollina has a lot of guts to venture into the realm of accusing Jim Douglas of making “false claims” about what he has and has not done. I’m speaking, of course, of the much-publicized Pollina press conference last week in which Vermont’s favorite loser cried foul over Douglas’ assertion that he helped create the local food movement. While I have no problem with the specific accusation, I’m going to – once again – fly the flag of hypocrisy over Camp Pollina.
If Pollina would like to make “false claims” a campaign issue, I’d suggest he duck and cover. There is, of course, that not-so-little issue of Pollina claiming to have “run” the Vermont Milk Company until, that is, the company stopped paying its farmers and the red ink out-massed the milk. At this point, Pollina conveniently changed his official campaign biography from “running” the company to merely “helping” some farmers get it going.
Yes, Anthony, let’s talk about “false claims,” and we could start with yours.
Lucky for Pollina that the Vermont media has decided to ignore his little biography-gate – for now. The word on the street is that some journalists are finally starting to poke around into the dismal financial story of the Vermont Milk Company. It shouldn’t be hard for them to figure out that Pollina’s wealthy donor friends are propping up this non-organic milk company so that it doesn’t completely shut its doors during the campaign. It also shouldn’t be hard for them to find out that the more viable food ventures in the Vermont Milk Company’s neighborhood – Hardwick – have been eying the failing milk company’s facility with the understanding that it will most certainly be available – oh – after November.
You heard it here first.
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Finally, to those who’ve inquired about why I didn’t attend last weekend’s Burlington Blogger BBQ, I only have this say: Because they make blogging look very unhealthy. ‘Nuf said.
Thanks Be to Friends
June 23, 2008 | 9 Comments
We interrupt the regularly scheduled snarkiness of this blog to bring you a tale of hope, talent, and accomplishment. Okay, okay, I’ll let that settle in for a moment.
It’s really quite “straight” forward. You see, we owned a leaning barn that desperately needed to be straightened, one that used to stand tall and proud just outside of the Worcester village. And, thanks to the neighborliness and friendliness of my immensely talented pal, Chris Eaton, we got it done. But let’s also be honest, the use of the “we” pronoun is quite presumptuous of me. Because, of course, I was mostly a “gofer” – and marveler – as Chris took on the Herculean task of running chains, cables and synthetic straps to various come-alongs and –viola! – torque that old heifer barn of ours right back to the upright and straight position. Amazing. All in a one good, long day’s worth of work.
This old heifer barn of ours was once the “little” addition to the monster barn that once graced the Ladd Farm, Worcester’s one-time pride of a farm that sits across the North Branch from the village itself. But, as we all know, the farm economy bit the dust and the farm began its decades-long decline into neglect. About ten years ago, thanks to previous owners, the neglected main barn was dismantled and – mostly – buried in what is now the back yard. What remained was the 20 x 50 heifer barn, a one-time “add-on” that now stood - or leaned — with the kind of tenacity that defied the logic of the engineering wisdom that certainly said: You will fall soon.
Ah, but Chris came to the rescue – just in time. And it’s not like “barn straightening” is on his resume, either. Nope. Sure, he’s a master carpenter and welder to boot, with more than a short stop caretaking – with his wife, Neha — for the Scott and Helen Nearing homestead in Maine. But barn-straightening? Nope. And that’s what’s fascinating to me: watching someone take on such an immense task with the kind of patience, perseverance and skill that would make you bet a whole hell of a lot of money on the fact that it was not his first time doing it. I guess that’s what they call “skill.”
To give you an idea of the task at hand, we started by attaching a nail to the top of the barn and then running a weighted-string down the side to determine just how much this old barn was leaning. According to the trusty tape measure, the barn was nearly 12 inches out of whack. Yep, the little weighted string dangled nearly a foot out of plumb. In other words, just a good storm – or draft horse scratch – away from becoming yet another giant pile of barn refuse.
But “we” attached the cables, hooked up the come-alongs, and gently ratcheted up the pressure as we heard the cracking and moaning of the barn. Disclaimer: This is the point in the project whereby I decided that my job should be to make sure the doors were open (a la “escape routes”), to “monitor” the dangling string (outside), and to otherwise pace with a palpable sense of nervousness that was otherwise no use to the “team.” Chris – being Chris – remained calm, convinced, of course, that a little forethought and a belief in a plan made more sense than my nervous ninniness.
The barn’s sway slowly began to abate – 10 inches, then 8, then 6, and then 4. Then the hardware gave way to the immense pressure of it all (Ha! Before me!). Specifically, one of the giant eyebolts attached to the top plate of the barn’s second story completely opened up and released the mighty pressure in one, big moment of “I quit.”
I thought we’d call it quits, too. Silly me. But Chris being Chris didn’t blink at the new challenge in front of us. “I know,” he said, “ I will…” I wish I could be more specific here. But, for all I know, he was speaking in the equivalent of carpenter-tongue, with words and phrases that I could almost make sense out of. You know something like: “We (oh-no, I thought, there goes that “we” thing again) need to weld plates…reattach the bolts…set the glue…correct the angle…and try it again.” Yeah, sure.
And that’s when Chris disappeared back to his shop and I took a nap, only to be awoken with his knock and his happy news that he’d welded the new pieces, already attached one of them, and – lo and behold – it looked like it was going to work.
“Great,” I replied, “want some coffee?” Nervousness and incompetence is always more tiring than accomplishment, you know.
But off we went with the new welded pieces, the new plan and the renewed creaking and torquing of the barn that seemed hell-bent on kissing the ground.
It all worked, of course. The barn’s lean was ultimately reduced to a mere couple of inches, cabled and secured into place. “We” did it! A barn was saved. An ever-so-small but yet important piece of Worcester’s heritage was given a new lease on life. As one of the few remaining old pieces of Worcester’s rural and farm heritage, it gets to stand – straight! – with the pride and reminder of perseverance. And, better yet (for me, at least), it gets to be filled with a thousand bales of hay to feed the horses that now call it home so that they can also call this farm their home.
Indeed, it was a good day. And I feel blessed. Thanks, Chris. One day, one barn straightened: You ‘da man.
The Dems Own the Wars (again)
June 19, 2008 | 1 Comment
This morning’s headline says it all: “Bipartisan Accord on War Funding Bill.” Did you get that? Yeah, the “bipartisan accord” thing. For those who haven’t had enough coffee yet today, that means that – once again – BOTH the Dems and the Republicans in Congress are agreeing to give the Bush-led military another $165 billion to continue to wage wars in Afghanistan and Iraq well into next year. Yes, next year, past the much-anticipated and hyped date of 1.20.09 when all the good Dems were “hoping” everything would be magically “Obamafied.” Good luck with that.
But there’s really nothing new here. The Dems have been going along with Bush and the Republicans on these wars from the beginning. They overwhelmingly voted to authorize the original force and they’ve fully funded them every single time the big, bad Bush has asked them to. Oh sure, they’ve whined, and squirmed, and begged, and stomped their feet from time to time but, in the end, they’ve always blinked in this little game of funding chicken with Bush.
What’s truly amazing is that even though the Dems keep funding these wars, they keep spewing the anti-war rhetoric. Worse, no matter how high these contradictions continue to pile up, the Dem cheerleaders keep drinking the almighty Kool-Aid and dreamily shaking their “change” and “hope” signs. Go team, go! Right. Over. The. Cliff. Well, when you act like fools, you’ll often be taken as one.
This new war funding bill will keep both wars financially greased until at least May of next year, thus handing Bush one hell of a stick to turn around and poke the Dems, the nation and the world right square in the eye. Impeach him? No, say the Dems, let’s just keeping feeding the beast and his beastly ideas even while he’ll be lounging in Crawford planning his silly little library (sorry, Mr. President, but My Pet Goat is already checked-out).
The Obama campaign was clearly a major player in ironing out this compromise, knowing that it would certainly be a campaign issue. Thus, it should give the antiwar/Obama crowd a reason to stop and reflect what they’re cheering for. Why, for example, would Obama and the Dems punt on the war issue? Worse, why would they agree to fund these wars through what they hope to be the first four months of an Obama administration? Looks like that “change” will be coming later than we thought – if at all.
But I’ll answer my own questions. There shouldn’t be any surprise about the Dems punting on the war issue (again) because that’s all they’ve been doing from the beginning. It’s apparently all they know how to do: huff and puff and then roll over for a belly scratch.
As for agreeing to fund the wars well into what they hope will be an Obama administration, it’s just the first of what will be many, many cave-ins and cop-outs. Wait, it’s not even the first, because this morning Obama announced that he was opting out of public financing for his presidential campaign. But, he noted, he really likes the idea of public financing. Hmm, I’m beginning to see a pattern: Hate the war but fund it, like public financing but reject its funding. And yes means no, right? Got it. Go team, go.
By agreeing to fund the wars for another year, the Obama camp will be able to continue to dodge any specifics on the war issue throughout the campaign. And even if he wins, he’ll have four months to claim that his hands are tied by the yearlong war-funding bill that this Dem-led Congress is about to pass. What a shame, because it also effectively kills any real grassroots potential that could have been harnessed by the stadiums full of screaming Obamacons that will certainly surface in the fall. But they can’t let the issues get in the way of the campaign. It might interrupt the cheering, the check signing and the hope. Oh, the hope!
Vermonters will be interested to know that Welch, Sanders and Leahy will most likely be voting against the war-funding compromise. They’ve clearly got visions of the riff-raff dancing in their offices again if they do anything but vote against it. Yes, indeed, direct action has an impact from time to time. But, before too many Vermonters pat themselves on the back for being oh-so-different, consider that none of the three will take any political risks to kill the bill. You know, things like filibusters, lobbying the leadership to stop the games, and/or the introduction of an alternative bill that would stop the funding now. It’s their party – and they’re staying for the dance.
Make no mistake, the Dems own the war. And forget 1.20.09. The best we can hope for now is 5.20.09.
Some Intimate Truths (or something like that…)
June 18, 2008 | 5 Comments
Oh hell, where were we? Oh yeah, now I remember: Nowhere. And fast. Welcome.
First, some personal news – only because I know you love the personal news. This little blog of mine is on pace to break the 15,000 visitor mark for the month. Yes, month. Not bad considering how lame I’ve been. Thanks to all those folks clicking in and not being too shy to ship me an email with one of those butt-kicking attachments that usually say something like: Give us words. So, words you shall have, mostly because my goddamn back is feeling tight from the use of my not-so-trusty carbon-neutral wood splitter (spare me the comments, Boots).
Speaking of carbon neutral, did you see that the campaigns of both Gaye Symington and Anthony Pollina have sponsored racecars? Give me a break. And Symington actually announced that she’s going to be donating money to those carbon-neutral hucksters out there who’ve convinced the moneyed ninnies that giving them money will somehow absolve them from their energy sins. Priceless. Hey, there’s a load of money in liberal guilt. You’ve just got to market yourself accordingly.
Here, I’ll try: Yo Gaye, you can send your next check to me and I promise to put your name on my carbon-neutral wood splitter. And, in return, you’ll get loads of “satisfaction,” a photo of me and the horse looking very, very appreciative (although the horse may be taking a dump) and a bumper sticker that you can add to your collection that says: “Sucker.” You know where to contact me.
Speaking of visitors (we were, weren’t we?), thanks to the fine folks at CounterPunch for sending loads of traffic. My friend. Jeffrey St. Clair, the co-editor there along with the equally amazing Alexander Cockburn, has always been gracious in their encouragement and willingness to feature my rants over the years. And, with each one, the traffic goes through the roof here – as do the personal comments, which range from “thanks” to “die, you asshole.” Ah, Joseph Pulitzer was right: journalists should have no friends.
But that’s all just a clumsy introduction to say: Buy Jeffrey’s new book, “Born Under a Bad Sky.” It’s St. Clair at his best: articulate, entertaining, illuminating and eye-opening. Or, if you’d rather, here’s what yours truly said about Jeffrey’s work on the back of this very book:
Who else can combine Rachel Carson’s wisdom, I.F. Stone’s erudition and Edward Abbey’s sass?
And I meant it, damn it. Read it.
And while we’re dispensing with the personal news here, let’s take a gander at the news Shay Totten of 7 Daze reported last week about my decision to abandon a campaign for governor. Well, not so fast, my friend. I made the decision based on the news that Gaye Symington was in the race, hoping that that would put an end to the nonsense that Anthony Pollina was going to mount a silly and hypocritical write-in campaign in the Democratic Party’s primary. But then the Pollina campaign dragged two Morrisville sycophants out of the woodwork to announce a few weeks ago that, indeed, they planned to continue the write-in campaign even though Dem/Gaye was in the race. It was clearly a non-story, except, of course, for the fact that the non-story members of the Vermont media made it a story, especially the giggling Kristin Carlson of WCAX, who made it her “top story” even though the “rally” she proclaimed it to be was little more than a few sycophants, Pollina, and his wife. Wow! With rallies like that, we could almost fill a hybrid.
My position as of this writing, which may change as soon as I find myself back in the woodlot in a few minutes, is that if Pollina keeps messing around with trying to despise the Democrats AND mount a write-in campaign in their primary, I will keep my campaign to challenge him in his own Progressive Party primary alive.
As for Shay’s prediction that there’s a run for Congress in my future, well, let’s just say that Shay must be connected with the Bush crowd who like to tap personal phone calls because I’ve been taking more than a few of those calls of late that encourage such a run. And they all go like this: “Welch is a phony. Run against him. Now.” We shall see….
Speaking of the media, I’m wondering when the Vermont media will come to life over the fact that Tony-the-Phony (Pollina, that is) changed his official website’s biography to delete the reference to his proclamation that he “ran” the Vermont Milk Company “until 2008.” For those of us keeping score at home, we know that this company has been tanking of late, has been behind on its payments to its farmers, and has been adrift in a sea of management incompetence. The Pollina response? Deny that he ever ran it. Yep, it’s true, Pollina actually changed his campaign biography after the company’s troubles became public, going from “running it” to just being “on the board.” And the Vermont media’s response: Nothing. Not a peep. On the positive side, I think I’ll take that as a sign for how seriously they’re taking his campaign. But on the negative side, I’ll say this: Shame on you.
Finally, on a sports note, congrats to the little-brat Celtics’ fans for a well-purchased championship. I hope you’re all happy with your high-priced product. Oh wait, I’m a New York Knicks fan. Skip that “high-priced” comment. And, instead, let’s try this: Paul Pierce is a drama-queen underachiever. What? One championship? Big deal, especially since he couldn’t get it done until the big brass brought in his mighty helpers known as Kevin Garnett and Ray Allen. Wimp.
The sports world has been making me feel young of late. First, there was the 45-year old Rocco Mediate’s 19-hole overtime challenge to Tiger Woods in the U.S. Open and then the news that the equally 45-year old Jamie Moyer’s great season pitching for the Philadelphia Phillies. Ha! The way I look at it is, you’re not really old until there are no sports heroes around who are older than you are. Thanks, Rocco and Jamie.
Speaking of age and sports, Jimmy Kimmel asked the best question of the political season to John McCain last night in his pre-game show. It was a question about the Rocco Mediate/Tiger Woods battle, with a not-so-veiled reference to McCain’s own battle with Obama. Said Kimmel:
So, who were you rooting for, the old white guy or the young black guy?
Priceless. Or, in the case of McCain’s response: wordless.
I’ve got more. But you’re not worthy. And I’ve got work to do.
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