Midnight Confessions and Buying the Farm

My name is Bob Howard and I have a confession to make. I (pause) am a (deep, drawn out sigh accompanied by shoulder shrug) hoarder (drop head to chest). I didn’t realize this until Trish and my recent move from our residence in South Chico to our new home/farm in Los Molinos. You would have thought the fact that I had to high-step through my garage to get from one side to another would have clued me in, but I am fairly stubborn when it comes to admitting my own faults and flaws. During the move though, my problem became undeniable. After about 14 round trips in my truck and a couple more with not only my truck, but a 14 foot panel truck, a full-sized pick-up truck, and another full-sized pick-up truck towing a flatbed trailer, we managed to move nearly everything out of our house, garage, and root cellar/basement. In the process we managed to fill up another house, a massive shop, and part of an open pole barn. The place is full-up – unbelievable. The only saving grace is the fact that I no longer have to high-step through the shop – I had enough foresight to lay out some narrow pathways in between the stacks of boxes.

As a result of this move I don’t really know what’s been going on for the last few weeks. I know the play-offs are happening, and somebody told me whose going to be playing in the league championship games, but I’m not going to try and guess whose going to play in the Super Bowl. If anybody gave me even odds I would have bet my house on the Saints defeating the Seattle Seahawks, and that about tells you how proficient I can be at betting football games. I think I was 1 and 3 during the first week of the playoffs. I heard the Patriots are out, taken down by the unlikely Jets. I’d like to see a ring on LaDanian Tomlinson’s hand some day.

I have no idea what’s been happening in the news; I haven’t even had a chance to glance at CNN or Drudge – my usual news source staples. NPR this morning was reporting on political fencing. I tend to take that as a sign that nothing really tragic has happened in the last few days – so that’s good.

So I live on a farm now – 10 acres complete with a creek, wild oak trees; and I’m informed by our neighbor that we have some coyotes that roam the property during the winter; then strike out for higher ground during the hotter months. I’ve dug a few holes and Trish has put our first few plants in the ground, and I’ve even had a moment or two to sit by the creek and suck down a cold beer. But nothing has really set in yet; the adrenaline is still flowing and my mind is scattered.

I am anticipating a restful night of sleep sometime in the near future. I’m hoping for it – because I could really use it.

madbob@madbob.com

Fall from Innocence

I am learning that reclusive author J.D. Salinger, author of “Catcher in the Rye,” carried with him the first six chapters of his novel with him when he landed on Normandy Beach during World War Two. At the time he hadn’t come up with the title of the book and referred to it as “my Holden Caufield novel.” Apparently Salinger’s master-work was shaped and informed by the horrifying events he witnessed and lived through during the “Great War.” This is from a recent biography of the author, who died just about a year ago, written by Kenneth Slawenski. Interestingly, prior to writing this biography, Slawenski’s primary literary claim to fame was maintaining a blog on J.D. Salinger called “Dead Caufields” (deadcaufields.com).

Salinger’s story of the bitter and scalded Holden Caufield and his struggle to emerge from adolescence into adult-hood is one of the few novels I actually read during my sentence in the public education system. Most of the books, my hormonal, forming brain couldn’t get into, couldn’t wrap around. I’ve since gone back and read a lot of those books we were supposed to read, and a lot of them are really good and worth reading; but at the time, my brain couldn’t hold onto and understand he words. Holden though, that acerbic, sarcastic, vulgar voice – I could definitely get my head around that one. I still think of the final image of the book – Holden trying desperately to keep the children from going over the edge of the cliff – often, maybe on a monthly basis.

The Emergence of the “New Media”

The blogosphere is quickly becoming the new media. Some people are mystified by this shift away from trained journalists and towards “citizen journalists” who are not compelled by any particular code of ethics. I heard one fashion blogger today talking about her ethics essentially being composed of her duty to her readership. But what is that duty? Accurate information? Or entertainment? And is this really very much different than the current, ratings-based system of commercial television news?

Myself I welcome the shift. For one thing maybe it will get the far right-wingers to stop whining about the “liberal media.” Get over it already. On top of that the expanding blogosphere will, at least in the short-term, break down and disseminate the sources of information. I believe strongly in de-centralization of power: the closer we are to the sources of power, the more influence and access we have on it and to it. This break-down of the traditional media sources; the newspapers, print magazines, and television news broadcasts; affords us with an opportunity to rise up and form our own organizations. Knowledge is power, language is power, information is power. When we get that power from some media conglomerate we are removed from that power and we have no influence over it. If we can shape the power so that it is smaller, comes from more sources, acts more responsively, and comes from closer to home – then we have greater ability to use that power.

Chaos, Instability, Misogyny on a Global Scale

Crazy things are afoot these days. Governments all across the Middle East are in turmoil as the citizens take to the streets to demand political reform. Tunisia and Egypt’s respective governments are already defunct and it looks like Jordan and Yemen may be following suit – while rumblings in Syria and Iran are being put down the old-fashioned way – with batons and tear gas. As usual, America is walking a fine line between ideals and total hypocrisy. We gave a sort of quasi-support to the Egyptian people and a whole-hearted “heck yeah!” to the citizens of Iran – while our response to the protests in Yemen and Jordan has been much more muted. Of course in those countries the governments tend to side with America, while the citizens, well, not necessarily so. Hence the tepid response in Egypt as well.

Like everyone else I am curious to see how all of this shakes out. Democracy is dicey business. Even here in the States where we’ve supposedly been practicing the stuff for over a couple of centuries we seem to get handed a phony bill of sale more often than not.

Not “Sexual Assault” – Rape

My thoughts and prayers right now are with CBS News correspondent Lara Logan, who was apparently attacked, beaten, and raped by a mob of “celebrating” Egyptians after the fall of Mubarak. Maybe it’s too soon to be writing about this – most of the media is staying away from the story and for good reasons of privacy and decorum. Myself I shudder at the thought. My hope for Logan is a speedy recovery, but it’s going to be a weird one, played out in the public eye. My hope for the rest of us is that her ordeal sparks a lengthy and long-overdue discussion on the treatment of women both in the Middle East and around the world. The plight of women and children in some parts of the Middle East has troubled me ever since reports of the Taliban’s cruel and draconian enforcement of Sharia law made the news a few years before 911. Since our invasion of Iraq and Afghanistan even more disturbing reports have continuously seeped out of that region. Granted some of it may be propaganda – but there is too much to chalk up entirely to the whims of government-sanctioned media bias. From the mandatory burkas to the stoning of teen “adulteresses” to the systematic molestation of “dancing boys” revealed in leaked military documents – there appears to be a sinister, misogynistic culture in place in much of the Middle East. I don’t mean to give the U.S. a pass – we certainly have our issues too – but at the very least people are not beating and raping journalists in the streets.

I don’t understand this – I mean, a rapist who takes something so personal from someone else – that scars the women for sure, but it must scar the rapist as well. There must be a hardening of the heart and soul that takes place, or has taken place, that allows someone to carry out that kind of action.

Dehumanization, I guess. Isn’t that the story again and again? Xenophobia – the fear of the other. Segregate, stereotype, dehumanize, attack. A tried and true series of tactics used throughout the ages to perpetrate inhuman acts of violence and aggression against otherwise ordinary citizens. Where does it come from? Why? Any ideas?

madbob@madbob.com

Winning and Losing

Two Consecutive Championship Titles

First and foremost I want to congratulate Nashon Garrett on his second consecutive California State wrestling championship. Garrett won the title as a junior in the 103 pound weight class, and this year took the 119 pound title. This is an amazing accomplishment. To understand just how impressive Garrett’s consecutive championship wins are you need to know a little bit about California wrestling.

Most states divide their championships into divisions; so you may end up with three or four different champions in the same weight class. California throws all the wrestlers into one tournament; the winner in each weight class is the single champion for the entire state. Add to that the fact the overall population of the state and the competitiveness within the wrestling community, and the odds of winning one championship, let alone two consecutive titles, are slim. A wrestler who makes it to the California state championships needs to make weight, stay healthy and bring their A-game. Apparently Garrett did all this and more, as he defended his title in dominating fashion. I watched his final against Josh Rodriguez from Rhigetti High; Garrett won the match 5-0 by using a combination of skill, strength, quickness, and probably most importantly, incredible endurance. That final was a clinic in focus and toughness.

A wrestling match is broken up into three two-minute rounds – a total of six minutes. That may not sound like much if you haven’t wrestled, but let me tell you, those are the longest six minutes you will ever experience. A wrestling match is a constant struggle that uses every muscle in the body. To get an idea of the experience you might try doing a combination of push-ups, pull-ups, rope climbing, and jumping jacks, for six minutes straight, with a ten second break every two minutes.

My Own Private Purgatory

Myself I did a little wrestling in high school. I might have been the polar opposite of Garrett, who seems to have a genuine passion for the sport. I was talked into it my sophomore year by a friend of mine who promptly quit the squad. Wrestling for me is a form of purgatory. If I die and end up in that ambivalent state of being, I am sure it will look a lot like a wrestling tournament. There was so much about that sport I did not enjoy, from weighing in, to the between match jitters, to actually taking to the mat. I guess you could say I hated the sport; but I suffer from a streak of loyalty, and so I couldn’t bring myself to quit on the coach and the team.

I’ll tell you what though, that sport helped to make me who I am. It is the purest form of competition – two people in the ring, one winner. No teams, no special gear, no gloves; out there on the mat you win or lose on the basis of your own merits and talents. You can share your successes with your team-mates and your coaches, but when you lose, you lose on your own.

madbob@madbob.com

Reason?

“He who makes a beast of himself forgets the pain of being a man.”

-Hunter S. Thompson (RIP)

Please be forewarned – I am writing this on my birthday. Birthday’s, for me, are not joyous, happy occasions. They aren’t depressing, suicidal affairs – but they are tinged with melancholy, loss, and heartache. I am always glad when they come, and even more so when they go. So if you are looking for positive, uplifting rhetoric, this probably won’t be the week for you. Anyway, onward and inward.

I have a good friend I converse with on occasion who happens to be a devout Catholic – so much so that he is currently studying to enter into the priesthood. We got into a discussion recently about whether or not animals are capable of reason. I was arguing that they are. My examples included the ability of chimpanzees to manufacture tools they use for fishing termites; and the fact that both elephants and chimpanzees mourn their dead. But I think my friend is on the right side of the argument; I’m not sure if animals are capable of reason. They understand how to do things, and they understand their feelings; but reason requires asking “why?” Why do the termites live in that log? Why do we die? Ultimately why are we here? Animals have no reason for reason. They don’t have to ask why they are here; they just are – and that is enough.

Humans on the other hand, we have a lot of good reasons for asking why we are here – because our existence in this weird, semi-hairless, big-brained, dim-witted form raises more questions than answers. Other animals are part of the natural order of things – every creature in its place in the chain of life and death. But we manipulate, we excavate, we desecrate and destroy all that is around us. We exert our will onto the earth and we exploit her and the rest of her creatures for everything they are worth. Most of the good things we do on this planet are for the benefit or entertainment of other humans. Eventually, now that we have wreaked so much havoc on the natural order, there are those amongst us working to the benefit of the planet and her creatures. But even these noble souls, at humanity’s very best, are only trying to undo the damage we have already done. The animal shelter is for the domestic animals we have recklessly allowed to breed, without considering how they will be taken care of. The animal sanctuary is for the creatures who have managed to escape from our factory-modeled food systems. Those who reforest only patch the work done by the exploiters who came before them. We are a parasite.

My Catholic friend says we were put on this planet to admire God’s creation – that He created this beautiful world and then realized there was no one to appreciate it. My friend also won’t concede that we have overpopulated the planet. He says: “the problem isn’t overpopulation – the problem is greed.” Again, he’s right – but I have to remind him that we live here on Earth, and while we are allegedly capable of reason, we apparently haven’t learned how to use it yet.

Madbob@madbob.com

Fierce Winds and Satanic Rites

There is a hell of a wind blowing across the North State today. The reports say gusts could reach 70 miles per hour. Across the world different kinds of winds are blowing through the Middle East. There is some kind of mess going on in Libya now, with the United Nations implementing some kind of helter-skelter “no-fly zone.” Apparently the mandate is to protect civilians, not to support the rebels who seek to overthrow the government of long-time dictator and certified whackadoodle Moamar Quadafy. Quadafy (who

m I often confuse in photos with psychedelic guitar god Carlos Santana) has been ruling Libya for the past 40 years. During the 1980’s, then President Ronald Reagan, referred to Quadafy as the “mad dog of the Middle East.” There was a tremendous amount of anti-Quadafy sentiment here in the United States. I was in high school at the time and I recall clearly when a friend of mine showed up to school wearing a t-shirt with a print of Quadafy’s face in rifle crosshairs. The caption on the shirt read: “Get Quadafy – Waste Him Now!” No one even batted an eye.

Those were slightly different times though. Another friend, Mark, regularly wore a shirt with the Coca-Cola label on it that read “Enjoy Cocaine.” Event

ually the school caught on to all the “Just Say No” bullshit that Reagan’s wife Nancy was spouting and sent Mark home to change his shirt. Nowadays they’d probably label both my old friends as terrorists and suspend them from school forever. Times they are a changing. While folks in the Middle East are rising up against tyrannical governments, civil rights here in the United States are being consistently curtailed in favor of corporate interests and the omnipresent excuse of “security.”

Security

What a joke. Forty thousand people die in car acc

idents every year. The terrorists who pulled off the 911 job did a hell of a job and managed to kill nearly 3,000 Americans in one shot. Horrific, by any stretch – but now we are ten years removed and since then we haven’t had a meaningful attack on American soil. I am not convinced this is due to the fact that we are putting old ladies through invasive body searches and eavesdropping on American citizens phone conversations.

Ah anyway, who cares about all that? We live here in Northern California. Drink a beer, pop a pill, smoke a joint and forget about all that craziness out there. We’ve got the food, the water, the good looking, natural women. There is no place on this Earth I would rather be in these weird times than right where we are.

Witch Dick

Oh, and sorry about that bummer trip I laid down last week. My mid-life crisis is tempering – I’m going to channel the negatives into focus and get to work. That’s really the best we can do I think. On that note – I want to end this column by telling you to go out and see With Dick if you get a chance. This two-person act is one of the most original and interesting I’ve seen in a long time. The last I saw them Tim and Kenny were dressed in nuns’ habits with their bearded faces painted jet black. The Satanic imagery accompanies a music that is dirge and driving. The whiskey makes it all work out even better.

madbob@madbob.com

The Palace of the Fool

The power is back on and I am up and running. Oh man, the last few weeks have beaten me up, but what's new? So a lot has been going on as I've been lost and grieving the loss of my sweet old puppy. Apparently Haiti almost got knocked right off of the map. I am absolutely amazed at how cynically people can spin an immense tragedy. Pat Robertson has apparently come out and said that Haiti was hit by a magnitude 7.0 earth quake because the people of Haiti made a “pact with the devil.” Are you serious Pat Robertson? You really believe that nonsense?

Fear-Based Logic

I get Pat Robertson though, I understand where he is coming from. Pat Robertson is patently afraid to die. Most of us are, I suppose; but Robertson's fear of death is exaggerated and extreme. This is the basis for loads of religious fervor. You are terribly afraid of dying, and so you have to set up in your mind a reason that other people die. The logic is, that if you follow just the right path, you might be able to avoid dying. Of course, no one's managed to do it yet; but that's beside the point. People like Pat Robertson have to condemn massive tragedy as based upon wickedness, or else the Robertsons of the world would have to admit that there may not be “divine providence.” The world might just run on plain old chaos, random probability, and luck. Of course, the Robertsons of the world are incoherent anyway; they bless a child who dies and condemn a teenager. A woman who dies at 92 has lived a good life, while a man who dies in his 40's must have done something to bring about this awful, premature demise: he must've danced with the devil.

Save it Robertson, everyone gets theirs. It doesn't matter what you or Mother Teresa or Alister Crowley has to say on the matter. Truth is truth and death is inescapable.

Forgive Them, They Know Not What They Say

I had someone else tell me that the reason so many Haitians were killed in a magnitude 7.0 earth quake is because “they are dumb.” He was referring to the building codes and regulations. I wonder if he's ever given a thought as to what might happen in just about any Mid-Western town if a 7.0 earth quake were to strike. I wonder if he considered that there hadn't been a major quake in Haiti since the late 1700's.

I heard this same kind of logic applied to the people who suffered through the flooding in New Orleans after Katrina struck. I was told they were “too dumb to get out before the hurricane hit; too lazy to walk out of town.” Frankly Pat Robertson's idea makes more sense to me than this – what, an entire city, or country, is only occupied by people too dumb to make a proper building or too lazy to walk out of town in the event of a terrible flood? No, there has to be more to it than this.

I get tired of this nonsense. The simple fact is that luck plays a greater role in all of our lives than we ever give credit. Right now the weather is howling outside – out power was down for 5 hours today and many residents and businesses are still in the dark. That's nothing, a run of the mill storm; and our town and our buildings are made to weather these kinds of storms. We'll be fine. But you know the weather is changing. I don't care of you believe in global warming or not; if you don't believe in change you're a fool – it's the only thing you can count on. Things will change – temperate zones will become dramatic, where the Earth once stood still it will shake, rattle and roll.

So what are you going to do? There isn't much you can do. Wear death on your sleeve, keep it in your pocket. Let death be your companion and your advisor. Let every decision you make be tempered by the knowledge that you might not be here tomorrow. Like your grandma might have said, you could be hit by a bus. You might be sucked off to Oz in a tornado. You might be crushed under a stack of Marshall amplifiers. It doesn't matter, there isn't anything you can do about it. Don't live in fear, like Pat Robertson, and those of his ilk – always searching for the reason that other people die.

My brain's a ball of mush, but I know that Pat Robertson is an ass; and instead of looking for the reasons other people die, he ought to be wondering why he's alive. I don't mean that like it sounds, I am talking to myself as much as anyone here. What are we doing with this strange, sometimes beautiful, sometimes horrifying life we have been given?

madbob@madbob.com