Fragments, Part (whatever)…
January 21, 2010 | 1 Comment
1.
And I thought about you as I sat to gather my thoughts.
Come here, little thoughts, we’ve got people coming to check on you from time to time.
But you’ve been a bad little collection of thoughts, so easily distracted and willing to venture down paths that lead to: Nowhere.
Again.
2.
I’m on the side of the little man in the late-night talk show wars. Yeah, the one getting $42 million to walk away. Fight the man!
3.
Yesterday we traded homeschooling for truckschooling, and off we went. To farms, mostly, to gather the material needed to continue the notion that we like farms.
At the dairy and beef farm, we gathered beef from a nice French Canadian man who’s family jumped the border a generation ago and they continue the dream in smaller parcels today (“if a kid wanted a farm, my dad and granddad gave ‘em the land they needed to farm”). And farm tidily, I might add. We got the whole tour – from the automated back-scratcher (for the cows, not us), to the milking parlor, and to the giant freezers marked “meat.”
And so, with a box of meat in tow, off we went to the horse farm.
The lady limped out of her house to greet us.
“Rule number one,” I explained to my daughter (because, as we’ve discussed before, every moment is a homeschool moment), “do not ask about riding lessons from someone in a cast.”
“Duh,” replied Bel, our sarcastically-astute daughter. It was, as I realized later, a chilling and mostly accurate retort I heard for much of the day (But, honey, you’re not officially a teen until August! Good luck with that.).
We were in pursuit of a children’s saddle that would fit Bel’s increasingly-chunky Quarter Horse. Mission accomplished. Because the lady in a cast was apparently learning her lesson about being around horses and willing to part with any and all of her horse equipment – and cheaply.
She reached for the saddle we were most interested in – a classic, circa 1970’s, full of real leather, Simco saddle – with flower pleats! But her hand was chewed up, an indent that was masquerading as a future scar quickly made itself known as she reached for the saddle.
“Ouch,” I said. “Horse bite?”
“Yes,” she returned. “And an infection and an abscess and weeks of antibiotics.”
Cool. Gotta love horses.
I made her an offer for the Simco. Not surprisingly, she accepted – cast, scar and all.
“Wear a helmet,” she said to Bel as we loaded the saddle into the truck.
“Ya think?” I thought, as I limped back to the truck.
P.S. We would like to thank the cow for its extensive contributions to our farm visits yesterday.
4.
Fucking Democrats.
And that’s all I care to say about that right now.
5.
Well, other than this: Why do the Democrats think a response from a series of election failures based on their wimpiness and ineffectiveness should be remedied by more wimpiness and ineffectiveness?
Just wondering.
6.
I do believe they call that bright thing in the sky, “The Sun.” It has just poked me on my shoulder, apparently knowing that I need it.
7.
Fetch me my horse. And you, yours.
8.
Hello woods.
‘Net Day Nonsense
September 30, 2009 | 10 Comments
Oh my. I took the plunge today. Straight into Internet hell. Yep, Twitter and Facebook. And I’m blaming my friend, Jack. He’s been busting my chops for months now about my lack of ‘net savvy. And I’ve been biting my tongue when it comes to his lack of savvy. Yeah, right. Because we all know that the last time a bit my tongue was when my fucking brother pushed me off my bike back in ’76.
Anyway, you can find my tweets on the sidebar of this homepage. Or you can search for them in the arenas that those interested in searching for them will already know about (read: not me).
As for Facebook, I guess you just search for me, request that we “be friends” (ew, that sounds way too serious), and then share in the joys of being connected in a very unconnected age.
In the meantime, tweet this: Get a life.
I’m gonna go ride a horse now. Perhaps I’ll tweet the photo later. Perhaps not.
This whole thing feels like reverse stalking, whereby the supposedly stalked throw our each and every move in front of any and all potential stalkers. But, I promise, I won’t cry foul. I’ll just count my “friends” and call it a day.
Weird. Very weird. But I’m in.
Happy Birthday, Isabel
August 14, 2009 | 2 Comments
Yep, our daughter turns 12 today.
Oh wait, hasn’t that already happened? Yes. And no.
The celebration happened weeks ago. That’s the “yes” part.
Yes, as in, you remember reading about this, don’t you?
But – here comes the “no” part – her actual birthday is today. So her birthday never really happened. Until today.
So, for the sake of accuracy and the never-ending attempts to avoid giving a pre-teen the ammo she might use against me in the very near future: Let it be known that Isabel Burnstein Colby is – finally – 12 today.
And she’s not having a bad day, either. Blueberry pancakes for breakfast thanks to Mom. A swimming-fest with her friends this afternoon. Her recommended meal of Chinese food for dinner. A movie with Mom. And then an evening of music at Lamb Abbey with family and friends to see the youngsters who make up “Evan Crandall and the Too Hot to Handle.”
While playing daddy-taxi earlier today, Isabel and I had the following conversation:
Me: Do you know what tomorrow is?
Isabel: Saturday?
Me: Yeah, but what else?
Isabel: Not sure.
Me: It’s not your birthday.
Isabel: Nope, it’s actually the day after my birthday.
I’ve met my match.
Happy birthday, sweetie. And don’t forget: At 4:08 on this day in 1997, you were put in my arms and I declared the following: “It’s a puppy.” The nurses didn’t get it but you apparently did: We were off to a very unique relationship. And I wouldn’t trade a minute of it for anything.
Catch-Up Blogging
July 13, 2009 | 2 Comments
I’m back. Sort of.
Because I spent a lot of time trying to relax and now I feel like I need some more time trying to fend off all the nonsense that made me not relax. (Note to ex-therapist: I know, I know, no one or nothing can “make me” do anything, but…whatever.)
Goddamn vacations. But I guess someone has to do it.
Pick me! Pick me!
–
Thanks, Dad, for a great retreat.
–
Politics, American Style: So, having been privileged enough to have the New York Times within a short walk’s distance every morning last week, I can report that the political status of our nation is… well…fucked.
And, as usual, I’ll keep my sharpened pen pointed at the good liberals – who certainly should know better.
The liberals, of course, have been focused on their kindergarten-like fixation on all-things-Sarah-Palin while continuing to ignore the rug that that their electoral-season hero, Obama, has been pulling out from under them.
If you don’t believe me, just pick up one of the last several columns by the liberal darling Maureen Dowd of the Times. Here, I’ll summarize them for you: Palin is an idiot and I am a clever genius for repeatedly pointing it out. Okay, okay, we get it: Palin is a dimwit. Not to mention an easy target.
But how about a little focus on the issues of the day – especially those that Obama and his Democratic accomplices in Congress are fumbling and/or ignoring daily? You know, things like the war, health care and economic justice (read: where’s the economic relief for those who truly need it?).
Oh, but it’s nice to see that Goldman Sachs is about to post record profits, isn’t it?
Making daily fun of Sarah Palin is a no-brainer. Been there. Done that.
What needs to be done now is to put a spotlight on the Democratic Party’s back-pedaling on nearly every major issue of the day. For years, these same Democrats fed the populace lines about “not having the White House,” or “not having both houses of Congress,” or “not having a filibuster-proof majority.” Well, those excuses are long gone. So what are they waiting for? Courage? A belief in their own electoral-season rhetoric?
Forget Sarah Palin. She lost. You won. Now give us some results.
–
Having said that, I will now break the rule. Deal with it.
I actually like it when the right-wingers start pouncing on Sarah Palin. Mostly because I love a good catfight. Meeeeeee-oooooooow.
The right-wing diva Peggy Noonan recently penned a piece in the Wall Street Journal in which she poked Sarah Palin for being an intellectual lightweight. Noonan insinuated that Palin should just disappear so as to protect the image of the Republican Party.
Oh yeah, the party of Ronald Reagan and Dan Quayle must protect its deep intellectual image…
Give me a break.
–
Speaking of liberals (well, a while ago), Vermont’s Secretary of State, Deb Markowitz, is touting her office’s plans to give each member of the Vermont National Guard who is about to be deployed to Afghanistan for Obama’s War a 100-minute Verizon phone card so they can more easily phone home.
Fine, make it easier to phone home. But what about the bigger picture here? You know, like the unnecessary nature of the war?
Markowitz – a Democrat – is ginning up her soldier-phone-home effort as an early public relations move in her bid to become the Democratic candidate to unseat Governor Jim Douglas. See, she supports the troops.
But wouldn’t it be better for Democrats like Markowitz to be speaking out against the deployment orders and the wars rather than slipping those sent to fight a phone-home card?
Oh Democrats, you never cease to infuriate me.
–
ATV comments: Last week, the Burlington Free Press reported that the comments submitted to the Agency of Natural Resources about its proposed rule to allow ATVs on state land were running between 3 and 4-to-1 against the proposal.
Well, what do you know, I was right: ATVers can’t write. But they sure can get in their monster trucks and drive, drive, drive to a public hearing. Perhaps if they put a motor on those pencils…
Bravo to Broadsides readers who certainly contributed significantly to the more than 1000 comments submitted the ANR. Now let’s see if the agency does the right thing. Don’t hold your breath.
Personally, I’m hoping for a good old-fashioned Conservation Law Foundation lawsuit on the matter. Those folks get things done.
–
Reading: Paul Auster’s “Man in the Dark,” a slim novella that is as engaging and as hard to put down as any of Auster’s other masterful works. And this one’s got a Vermont connection, too, as its protagonist – August Brill — is a retired literature critic who moves to the Green Mountain State to be with his daughter.
Brill, his daughter and his granddaughter share a Vermont home and a common affliction: broken hearts as “the weird world rolls on.”
Brill also finds the nights challenging, often waking to an over-active mind and left with the challenge of directing his mind’s conversations away from the sad thoughts about his life’s losses and toward the more soothing make believe.
The result is a wonderful tale of a certain Owen Brick, a man who lives in the competing – and colliding – worlds in which Brill creates. And the only way Brick can put an end to it is if he find and kill Brill himself. Unless, of course, Brill kills off Brick first. Storytellers do get bored with their creations, you know.
Auster is a superb writer and this little novel matches the prowess he’s displayed in my particular favorites of his, “The New York Trilogy,” “The Music of Chance,” and “Leviathan.”
Read it.
–
Last week a young man with a cheap sailboat took my father, my daughter and me out for a sailing lesson on Lake Champlain. It wasn’t really a lesson though. We were mostly too mesmerized by his sea ballet to focus on or retain much of what he was teaching. He called out the terms and performed the actions – tacking, watching for “luffing,” monitoring the jib, and beating – as we sailed back and forth on a mostly calm lake. It was a fine show. And a wonderful afternoon.
–
Congrats to Greenpeace for its creative action against President Obama over his willy-nilly approach to global warming solutions.
More of that please.
–
Thanks for playing. Now get back to work.
On Sotomayor, the “New” Big Tent, Flanagan & Seven Days and More
May 28, 2009 | Leave a Comment
“Judge Sonia Sotomayor was conferring with White House aides on Wednesday as conservatives said the court pick had energized their forces.” – The New York Times
Hmm, ever wonder where energized-conservative forces meet? Here:
Think of it as their new “big tent.”
–
Department of Dopey Reporting:Speaking of Sotomayor, here’s the first paragraph of a front-page article in this morning’s New York Times about her appointment:
“The White House’s Supreme Court selection plan had been months in the works, involving veterans determined to avoid the pitfalls of the past.”
Ya think?
–
Quote of the day:
“If you still have an Obama sticker on your car, maybe think about scraping it off and sending it to the White House with your objections,” says Mike Roselle of Climate Ground Zero, who is working hard to stop mountaintop removal in West Virginia and elsewhere. “Blowing mountains to pieces is a crime.”
[From Jeff St. Clair and Joshua Frank’s “Obama and the Environment:
The Politics of Bait-and-Switch.”
–
Flanagan & Seven Days: I’ve been meaning to say a couple of words about last week’s cover story about Vermont State Senator, Ed Flanagan. The article, by the usually fine Ken Picard, feels like little more than an insiders’ whisper campaign against Flanagan, a man who is still recovering from his horrific auto accident more than four years ago.
Apparently, Picard sets out to “prove” what Flanagan readily admits: He’s not the same. And where, pray tell, is the news content here?
While I did find it refreshing that Picard and Seven Days were making an attempt at looking behind the curtain, I thought their choice of Flanagan and his physical and mental challenges was a poor place to start – especially when they provide no evidence whatsoever that the “new” Flanagan is not performing his duties or satisfying his constituents.
Instead, Picard reports on Flanagan’s “odd” behaviors while at the Statehouse, things like taking naps without his shoes on and pushing jellybeans around the table without eating them. Hmm, sounds pretty normal to me, especially when you compare them to the truly odd things going on there. You know, like vetoing gay marriage legislation and the budget and refusing to listen to the people regarding true health care reform.
Flanagan may be pushing jellybeans around, but he’s still standing up and speaking out admirably for his constituents and “special interests” like the mentally and physically challenged.
Sorry, but this was a swing and a miss for Picard and Seven Days. Keep looking behind the curtains of our leaders, for sure, but wait until you’ve got some content – or news – before making it a cover story. And while you’re at it, swing at a bigger fish – you know, like Douglas, Leahy, Sanders or Welch.
This Should Explain Everything.
April 16, 2009 | 3 Comments
Supreme Court Victory! Vermont’s Highest Court Dismisses All Charges for Our Negroponte Arrest!
March 13, 2009 | 11 Comments
You know, some lunch breaks are better than others. And coming in from the woods at noon today took the cake. Awaiting me was an email from my attorney, David Sleigh, informing me that the charges against me and my partner in crime, Boots Wardinski, for protesting a graduation speech of John Negroponte in St. Johnsbury in June, 2006 were being dismissed by the Vermont Supreme Court. Why? Well, a violation of our First Amendment right to free speech. Duh. I guess someone should have let the federal, state and local police officials know about the First Amendment before they pummeled us after standing to “object” to Negroponte’s appearance. (You can read about the event here and here.)
This is fantastic news for activists. It means that the state cannot arbitrarily arrest and prosecute those who simply stand to voice their political opinions. It sends a clear and unequivocal message to all levels of law enforcement to think twice before engaging in the speech-chilling activities exhibited by the multiple levels of police that day.
The Vermont Supreme Court’s ruling can be read here.
I will have more to say on this later but, for now, we’ve got work to do to make sure this ruling gets the media attention it deserves.
All praise to our lawyer, David Sleigh, for being the pit bull of justice that he is. He took this case at no charge to us after hearing the facts, studying the videotape of the event, and realizing what an obvious violation of our rights had occurred.
And you know that this ruling really means: Boots & I have a clean record. Which means, of course, that we’ll be looking to remedy that situation very, very soon. Stay tuned.
Boots & Moike in the Woods
February 9, 2009 | 2 Comments
Part One:
Part Two:
Paybacks are a Bitch
December 18, 2008 | 6 Comments
As most of you know by now, I’ve got a little work-exchange program going with my friend, Boots. In fact, I think we’re in our fifth year of trading time during the winter months.
I agreed to call it a work exchange only because I’m a good friend. But it’s really more like a social service from my end. Because, truth be told, Boots is required to leave the home at least once a week so his partner, Chris, can attempt to find some sanity (read: Boots-free time) in order to focus on her artwork.
I like to think of it as my own little United Way project.
But today was a payback day for me: It was my turn to venture to Boots’ compound in the middle of friggin’ nowhere to offer my labor. It started just fine as we hooked his big Percheron, Bart, to his homemade snowplow for the first time. I had the easy job: Hooking the chain to the goliath of a v-shaped snowplow and then getting the hell out of the way. Boots, on the other hand, had to hang onto the horse and skip across the ice and snow while the adrenaline from all involved skyrocketed from the scraping sound of the plow on the icy undersurface.
But it worked. And with little more than a horse, a wooden v-plow and two batshit crazy horsemen, the driveway was cleared of snow. Piece of cake. And carbon free!
I glanced at my watch and realized after the snowplowing adventure that a mere 30 minutes had elapsed. Oh my, what will we do next?
Well, first we watched the dogs play (my dog is the lab):
And then, after lunch, Chris – a professional photographer – asked me to pose in order to document my very impressive display of facial hair:
Finally, Boots asked me to help carry the laundry inside so it could be hung to dry. It was truly a Brokeback Mountain laundry moment:
Oh boy, it was a busy, busy day. And almost as effective as voting for Ralph Nader.
Not Dead Yet
December 5, 2008 | 1 Comment
Yeah, yeah, yeah. You’ve been checking and I’ve been checking out. From blogging, that is. Because, when push comes to shove, a man’s gotta make a few bucks before the entire economy implodes from its own hubris. Or, even better, a man’s gotta hone a few skills that will most certainly come in handy when the economy implodes from its own hubris. In case you’re missing the important points above, let me repeat: When the economy implodes from its own hubris.
Yep, I’ve been pulling logs with the trusty fellows, Boots and Big Jim. Boots is the man. Big Jim is the horse. And I play the intermediary between the two. You see, the logging days usually go like this: Boots wields his mighty chainsaw, drops trees, limbs them, and then cuts them into – usually – 16-foot logs that Jim and I pull from the woods to the landing. And back and forth and back and forth and back and forth we go. All. Day. Long.
I’ve really got no complaints. It’s fine and honest work. And, better yet, it keeps my mind off the ninniness of being in today’s rather numbing world of false idols, ill-begotten notions (is that Jesus I hear coming?), and the near-complete lack of a coherent or inspiring response to the outrageous pillaging of our future.
Oh America, go back to sleep. We’ll wake you when we need you to fight another war.
But, speaking of politics (insert laugh track here), the ninnies are ruling the day. When they’re not greasing up their Obama dildos, they’re wagging their fingers of discontent at anyone and everyone who happens to find it objectionable that the so-called “anti-war” candidate has decided to keep the big, bad Bush’s Secretary of War in his cabinet. Oh ironies, is there no end to your delicious presence?
Don’t blame me. I voted for Nader. Imagine the craziness of lining up the issues with your political beliefs and then voting accordingly. But, then again, I’m the one following a horse around in the woods for a “living.” Ass, meet face. And then get back to work.
Speaking of ass-faces and politics, how about all the hand wringing in Vermont about trying to iron out the differences between the Vermont Democratic Party and the Progressive Party? The question of the week amongst the people who can’t seem to cleanse themselves of the sheer nothingness of mainstream electoral politics is this: “Why can’t they just get along?” To which, I say, quite simply: “Why?”
Silly me, I keep thinking that politics in a democracy is about articulating differences and then letting the voters decide. But that’s apparently soooo 1780s. You know, back when they used horses to get around. Oops, there I go again on the horse fixation.
But, seriously, while these electoral control freaks are at it, why don’t they just go all the way and begin a discussion of merging any and all political parties in Vermont so that we can just do away with the fucking elections all together. Viola! Democracy “messiness” solved.
The reality in Vermont is that we already pretty much do that anyway. Because our electoral elite (the elected few and the even fewer who bow to their feet while pretending to be a part of the “media”) just keep getting elected and re-elected until (or even before in the case of Jim Jeffords) they start to lose their minds from the boredom of the game.
Yep, we’ll just streamline the whole mess and call it Vermont’s Party of Incumbents. And, oh my, look how “tri-partisan” it already is: Douglas the Republican, Leahy and Welch the Dems, and Sanders the Independent. Cue the blissful music…
Now, please, will the rest of you issue-oriented pricks please stop muddying the electoral waters? Or, if you continue, we’ll have Seven Days and Green Mountain Daily continue to plunder you into somnambulism over their apparent obsessions with anything and everything to do with…hmm…themselves. Can’t they just get a blog? Oh wait, nevermind.
Paging Thomas Paine. Thomas Paine, come in. Oh please, can someone please find Thomas Paine and bring him to the Democracy Courtesy Desk IMMEDIATELY.
Whew. I did it. I gave you words. And now you’re all saying the same things to yourselves: I kept checking back for this shit?
Yes, you did.
And now I’ve got to get back to work. I brought my new loaner horse home yesterday, a fine looking Percheron named Lance (I’m pretending he’s named after Lance Armstrong but, given the fact that he came from Amish country, I doubt it). If all goes well, he’ll be teamed up with Big Jim for this winter’s installment of “Sleigh Rides with Mike.” Make your appointments soon.
Welcome back. Now stop your bitching.
[Disclaimer: Any and all snarkiness found within the previous (and following) meandering words are the result of "Jack the Carpenter" and his gift of music that accompanied this computer moment. The Stranglers, to be precise. Thanks, Jack.]
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