American has officially gone off the deep end. It is an insane asylum. Accusations are flying from both left and right. Name calling, temper tantrums, weeping and gnashing of teeth. The Powers That Be have you just where they want you–at each others throats. Why are you fighting over who gets to hold the whip?
There is an ideological canyon dividing Mankind and it’s getting wider. On the one side are those folks that need some kind of imposed order. On the other there are those that don’t need or want some one else telling them how to live.
That’s it in the nutshell. The problem for those in the first camp is how do they convince those in the other that their way is best? They don’t even try. They want to force their way onto everyone else because, after all, with out a strong government there would be chaos. The problem facing those in the leave me alone camp is that those in the do it my way or the highway camp can’t have it any other way. They MUST prevail. They are like a skeeter that won’t leave you alone. And you know what happens to a pesky skeeter sooner or later. Continue reading “The Great Divide”
“Resistance is useless.” Vogon gaurd, Hitchikers Guide to the Galaxy.
“The king is sovereign”! old wives tale.
There’s too many men, too many people
Making too many problems
And there’s not much love to go around
Can’t you see this is the land of confusion? Genesis, Land of Confusion.
“Maybe it’s not about guns.” Black Widow, The Avengers.
Listen. What you think you know about the world is not true. That is causing all sorts of confusion with people. We imagine that electing tweedledee or tweedledum is going to change things. Not true.
We imagine that the world as reflected back to us via the media, government “sources” and popular movements is true. It is not.
We actually believe that one man has the authority to rule over another man because a majority voted for him or her. Patently false.
How many times have you heard, “We must have government because without it there would be chaos”? Fundamentally not true.
All of the above and many more “truisms” are lies. They are lies fed to us by those who would be kings. These are people who actually believe that Mankind must be controlled for its’ own good and they are just the guys for the job. They are control freaks. They laugh at God’s law and make up their own and expect us to blindly obey. And we do, unquestionably. Why? Maybe it’s because we are confused. Continue reading “The Illusion”
Citizen. One who, under the Constitution and laws of the United States, or of a particular state, is a member of the political community, owing allegiance and being entitled to the enjoyment of full civil rights. All persons born or naturalized in the United States, and subject to the jurisdiction thereof, are citizens of the United States in and of the state in which they reside. US Constitution, 14th Amendment.
And, “Citizens” are members of a political community who, in their associated capacity, have established or submitted themselves to the dominion of a government for the promotion of their general welfare and protection of their individual as well a collective rights. Blacks Law 6th edition.
Before we dive into the legalese used here, let’s consider these words: “owing allegiance, ” and “have established or submitted themselves to the dominion of a government.” Do these words give a hint as to who is the boss when it comes to citizenship? I don’t know about you but I expect government to owe its allegiance to its creators and to submit themselves to the dominion of same. Us! Can the created be superior to its creator? Of course not. But when you identify as a citizen you have just turned this relationship on its head. Now, as a citizen, you are the inferior party. I think we need to rethink this notion of citizenship. Continue reading “Rethinking Citizenship”
I haven’t commented on the recent election because it is my belief that whoever wins, the establishment wins. On one side we have a career criminal who wanted oh so badly to wield the power of government to mold the world to her liking and on the other a man who obviously believes government can make America great again. He won. Trouble is, he’s wrong. But at least he’s not a criminal. The best thing government can do is to get out of the way.
But the reaction from the left is unprecedented. Who are these people? Burning trees in Portland? Really? Is this supposed to sway people to their side? Are these people serious? Rioting, writing scathing rebukes to Trump supporters, beating people up, demanding the electoral college vote for HRC, wearing safety pins????????? WTF! Have I wandered into a taping of the new iteration of Romper Room? What’s next? Mass cry ins? Throwing the strained green beans to the floor (now that I understand)? Kicking the dog? Jeeeeesh.
These people put their faith in a system that is fundamentally flawed, Democracy (A Republic is what it was supposed to be, somewhat better but still flawed), played the game and now they are PISSED because they didn’t win. Boo hoo. And they accuse Trump supporters of being intolerant. Where’s Rod Serling? Is he standing in the corner? Is there a hidden camera somewhere? Some one PLEASE tell me this is all made for television. It’s all just reality TV, don’t take it seriously. Only it’s not. These people are serious, seriously!
These snowflakes have been told by our highly disfunctional education system that they are some how special! That all it takes to be special is to show up. That words, if shouted loudly enough, can actually change the outcome of an election! That throwing a temper tantrum is all it takes to make people change their mind.
We, as a nation, have descended into a state of pre-adolescence where puppy dogs and purple dinosaurs are brought in by university staff to bring aid and comfort to the bruised cupcakes that litter college campuses. How on earth did this happen in such a short time? I’m still scratching my head. Who’s responsible for this madness? Perhaps coddling parents who thought they were protecting their spawn from the riggers of the world by putting them in a protective bubble? Parents who did not understand that to make a tree strong it must be exposed to the wind and the rain and the snow and the heat of summer. And how about all those teachers who mistakenly believed that boys must be tamed like domestic animals because their masculinity frightens them? That equality means that everyone must be lowered to the same level of mediocrity? Holy crap! These people are living in a terrarium where everything is provided for them and the weather is never foul.
We have become weak and pouty and pissy. And now that these special darlings have been deprived of their criminal-who-would-be-queen they are falling from the heights of their own arrogance. The snowflakes are falling on to the streets of America and making a mess for the rest of us to clean up.
It’s November. Around here that means battening down the hatches for Winter.
The garden veggies have all been canned or frozen, the green houses sealed up for the winter, the lawn equipment winterized and the garden mulched with leaves. It’s an annual rite of passage. It marks the transition from summer/fall to winter, a time of rest.
Our annual preps for winter are predictable and usually happen in the last days of October through the first two weeks of November. We can count on it. It is a transition that is expected and anticipated. We have a good idea what’s coming in the months ahead and we can prepare for it. Continue reading “Transitions”
The interwebtubes is clogged with how to make tomato sauce recipes. I intend to clog it up some more.
In spite of a very weird growing season this year we ended up with boxes and boxes of tomatoes. I had to rush out and pick every single tomato in the green houses before night fall and get them into the house on account of an early hard freeze (15 degrees F). We had tomatoes piled up in the kitchen like stacks of green beans at the discount warehouse. Well, we had big plans for all these tomatoes, salsa, ketchup, BBQ sauce, you name it. After a quick inventory of our stash it was clear we needed more sauce than the rest of that stuff. Sauce it was, and is. Continue reading “How to make tomato sauce”
The good news is, we caught 41 fish. The Snag? We caught 41 fish. Now we have to clean them, all 41 of them.
The first time I went to the Helena Valley Reservoir, a small lake built to provide the irrigation ditches in the Helena valley with ample water, I wasn’t sure what to expect. The FWP here in Montana stocks that lake with Kokane, fresh water Sockeye salmon to the tune of 20 to 30 thousand fish every year or so. The fish swim around eating and doing fish stuff for 3 years only to return to the dam, the release point, to spawn. Are they wild or are they stocked after 3 three years? I’m not sure. If fish have been in the wild for 3 years doesn’t that make them at least somewhat wild? No matter, there they are and you can snag 35 of them. So we did, or almost. They are fierce fighters and a very large time was had by all. I’ve been back every year since, save one, to snag, snag, snag.
Snagging is a crude and very haphazard way to catch fish. You launch a large, weighted treble hook into the water and jerk, reel, jerk, reel, jerk, you get the picture. It is only sheer dumb luck that your hook jabs a fish with enough purchase that you can haul it in. But when you do, well, it’s a good reason to drive an hour and half to join in the fun.
If you consider the odds of throwing a hook into the water and actually jabbing a moving fish somewhere in the deep it boggles the mind that it can be done. The concentration and number of fish must be staggering. Not to mention the odds of discovering, through trial and error, exactly where they are. Then there are the snags. Those rocks, small tree branches and other obstacles intent on robbing you of your tackle. The whole thing adds up to fantastic fishing fun. I impatiently wait all year for the two month season just to have a crack at it.
J and I make the trip several times in the months of September and October. Most days are slow. We catch a few fish and finally admit “they’re not running today.” But then, and it seems to happen every year, there is one day when the water temperature is just right, the moon is in the right phase, the fall leaves are the right color and the fish fairies are in a good mood. Every cast, or nearly every cast connects. That’s what happened today. I knew it was coming. We had close to ten fish in the first ten minutes. We were haulin’ them in one after the other like politicians gather suckers.
Well, this went on for over two hours. Cast, yank, reel ’em in until our arms were sore and the stringers were so full we could barely lift them. Reluctantly, we figured, it was time to leave. We stuffed the fish into a large cooler like you stuff a sleeping bag into its’ tote bag, stomping and shaking them down to make them fit. We looked at the cooler crammed full of fish and then it hit us. We have to clean, pack and freeze these things. Oh, my aching arms! I wasn’t sure I had it in me. But we made the long drive back and dove right in. Two hours later we had done the deed. It was Miller time.
Another year, another 50 or so fish, all told. Hunting season was coming up in a few days and there would be no time for snagging. Here in Montana, like most places I suppose, there is a good number of people that live their lives in accordance with the seasons. Spring and Summer are for work, Fall is for gathering and putting up food and Winter is for, well, I’m not sure what Winter is for except maybe killing the bugs. Some people like to play in the snow, whatever floats your frozen boat , I say. This is the way, I think, life should be lived. Many of us trudge off to work every day, do what ever it is we do for 8 or so hours, drag ourselves home, eat, watch the tube for a few hours and try to sleep it off only to start over the next day. We do this ALL year. Not many of us have seasonal jobs that allow time to do all this puttin’ up food stuff but we can tune in to the seasons by simply growing things, anything, in a garden or in a pot on the balcony.
Growing things takes time. You plant a seed, watch it germinate and slowly grow into a tomato plant or whatever. You mark the progress of Spring and Summer by observing your little plantlings grow into fruit producing “adults.” Pretty soon you’re noticing the sky, is it sunny? cloudy? You begin to notice how much rain you’re getting or how dry it is. Temperature swings affect your plants and you begin to notice that, too. Your plants mature and begin to bear fruit. Fall is coming and soon it’ll be time to eat fresh tomatoes, munch on fresh green beans, steam broccoli, and enjoy veggie time. Pretty much anyone can do this. It doesn’t take special knowledge, it only take paying attention. Do your plants need water? Are they getting enough light? In short, are you giving them tender, loving care? Turns out, that’s all it takes to get along with those you love, and everyone else, for that matter. Are you paying attention? Are you giving them tender, loving care?
When you grow things you begin to see the world in a different way. You SEE that the world that has been, mostly, created for us by the media and school and governments and corporations is not the real world but a cheap fake. A facsimile of the real thing. It turns out governments, corporations, schools the media etc. are merely fictions, things that only live on paper. They are not real. YOU are real and those plants growing on the windowsill are real. That other stuff is just a world created to distract you from who and what you really are; a being with enormous power and strength. Don’t let the people who populate those fictions lead you to believe otherwise. Those fictions were created by men and women to serve a purpose, to make things manageable. But when those people begin to use them for their own aggrandizement, for their own gain, they become a threat to our well being. We have the power to dismantle those organizations and create ones that do make our lives better. The people that benefit from their existence will kick and scream when you threaten to take away the gravy train, but that’s OK, it’s really your call. They weren’t real anyway. But you are, and to them that’s the snag.
I’d like to thank my readers (all five of you) for tuning in. I started this blog because I felt that some things had to be said. As many of you are aware, the world is at a crossroads. If you are not aware of this or think it is just conspiracy theory, it’s time to do the reading. Humanity must now choose between dominance by a small cadre of self proclaimed elites bent on controlling your every move, your finances, where you live, what you eat,and what kind of medical care you will receive. In short, what they call “full spectrum dominance.” And, a way that it is in harmony with creation and how it works.
The former is being done by convincing you that science, technology and central planning (read big government) can rid the world of what ails it. It’s an old story. Just let superior minds do the thinin’ round here and all will be well. We must reject this way of thinking. Yes, the corporate model is efficient. Yes, it gets the job done (most of the time). And yes, it can provide order, but at what cost?
I am convinced that despite its attributes, this system is at odds with nature. It appears to be an end run around natural law to benefit a few wanna be “gods.” We don’t have to reject science, per se, or technology. We must simply be vigilant about how they are put to use. We must not allow convenience to morph into expedience. Sadly, we are most of the way there. We accept what science tells us without question because we do not understand it. We accept technology because it makes our lives easier without questioning the price we pay. We have accepted a monetary system that exploits our labor to enrich the few. We have allowed money to become digits because it is convenient. Money, in order to do what it does must have intrinsic value. Why would you trade digits and pieces of paper with no intrinsic value for things that do have value, such as food, housing, etc? We do it because it is convenient. That’s the only reason.
I hope to remind the reader that easy is not always better. That doing stuff for yourself is rewarding and can open your eyes to the value of your efforts. You can grow your own food, you can make basic repairs to most of the things you use, you can govern yourself which means following the golden rule.
By revealing how your path has been chosen for you by others, we can learn together how to chose our path. The path that is truly our own. The path that is in harmony with our nature, with our selves.
Because it is the season for putting up food from the garden and the season for harvesting protein from our local environment posts may be few and far between for a month or so. We are busy “puttin’ stuff up” for the winter. Hope to see a few of you come back for a visit once and a while.
We lost a friend, we buried Pete today. Pete was my house mate’s dog, and like every other dog that has shared its life with us here he just showed up. Dogs do that here. They seem to show up when you need them most. My dog showed up four years after I lost Mike. I guess it was time. We rescued him from a couple with a screaming toddler. He was too much to handle and didn’t get along with the kid (I think it was the other way around), they said. “You want him?” He was the cutest puppy on earth, how could I resist? It’s doggy paradise here and word gets around.
Pete came strolling down the road one day and squatted in the yard. He hung around on the perimeter for a few days then slowly moved in, like a cat stalking prey. This was where he was going to live, by God, and no one was going stop him. Even the alpha male allowed him into the house and let him eat from the doggy food station, which NEVER happened with a “stranger” dog.
C had lost her beloved Poco a while back and was in no mood for another dog. Until, she said, “I looked into his eyes, that was it.”
Pete glommed onto her like sap to bark, would never leave her side and adored her as only a dog can. He accepted his place in the doggy hierarchy and took up residence. This was home.
It was apparent from the beginning that Pete didn’t like men, especially men with facial hair. J., my other house mate, and I are both begrizzeled with facial plumage and Pete would have nothing to do with us at first. I was puzzled by this and soon found an answer. My hired help saw Pete and proclaimed that he had Pete for a few months. That he had taken him from some guys that didn’t like him and abused him. The stories were sad and maddening. Pete was terrified of fireworks, thunder and gun shots. He had, we found out much later, buckshot in his butt, which ‘splained his aversion to that stuff. These bearded men, I was told, harassed and beat him when he tried to eat out of turn and apparently, shot him with bird shot at some point. I guess they didn’t want him.
After being passed around like a fruit cake at Christmas he ended up with a girl down by the river whose father didn’t like Pete because he looked too much like a wolf, which he did when he was younger. She showed up a few days after Pete moved in to formally pass possession to C, as if it mattered to Pete. He was C’s now and no transfer of title was necessary. The dog chooses it’s master, never forget that.
We usually have 3 or so dogs here at any given time. When Pete moved in the total bumped up to four, not counting the neighbor’s golden retriever who, apparently, lived here too. That made five. Pete was sort of the peace maker for the alpha dog who could be surly at times. At 100lbs plus, Pete was a gentle giant. He’d jump in and put himself between any dogs at odds, acting as arbitrator for doggy disputes. Except for the healers from across the road. For some reason he didn’t like either one of them but particularly one of them. I couldn’t tell the difference, they were both orange, small and sported a Napoleonic complex. Pete would attack at the first paw on the lawn. He never hurt them, he just let them know they were not welcome. You never heard such screaming and whining. He never did warm up to those dogs.
Well, the years came and went, we lost Bear and the neighbor’s dog and Pete ascended to the position of top dog, although he was never in your face about, he just was. It was a case of greatness through attrition. He was family now and we loved him, dearly.
Then, last Spring I noticed Pete was limping, favoring one leg. I mentioned it to C who took the position of let’s wait and see. It was soon apparent that something was wrong and she took him to the vet. It was bone cancer, a fast moving cancer that takes dogs with alarming speed. We were devastated. It was partly due to the breed, and the bird shot in his butt likely got the ball rolling. Pete? How could this be happening to Pete?
Throughout the summer the tumor on his hind leg grew until it was grotesquely large. Pete was having more and more trouble getting around. We watched as Pete valiantly hobbled around on three legs doing doggy stuff and doing the best with his disability. He was damned noble about it. But, it got worse and worse and soon he couldn’t get up.
The vet showed up early evening after 3 days of rain and cold. The sun had just come out. We had Pete on a blanket in the yard. I suspect he knew his time had come but he seemed happy and content, as she gently held his head in her hand, to be looking into C’s eyes when he drew his last breath. We buried him in the back next to the cat and several other dogs and cats that left us here wondering why we only have them for such a short time. Why they seem better than most people we know. Why the unconditional love of a dog lasts only a few years. And why do we have to say goodbye to our friends so soon. Why Pete?
She laid a flower on his grave.
Author’s note: I know this is a sad way to start a blog but I have to write what’s on my mind. And I needed to write this.
Good bye, Pete