Name Dropping?

In a former life i was surrounded by super wealth – not spiritual richness rather aplenty of designer lifestyles from homes, to parties, to clothes, to shoes, to spouses, to vehicles, to garden furniture. I never felt less than or envious. I am unsure if jealously is in my emotive vocabulary as by nature I am nearly fearless plus basically I think all humans are full of crap, including myself.

What I learned in this affluent milieu is how empty and disconnected were these human beings. They barely saw the wonders of nature and consequently were afraid of actual living things from creepy spiders to giant balls of bait fish.

Nearly every Saturday in the spring I would be outside in front of 41 Sunset Avenue, Westhampton Beach, NY, working in the perennials pulling weeds, replanting volunteers, or making room for a new variety of a beauty. The birds would be singing as they established nesting territorials. The maple trees would be sprouting fresh lime colored greenery, and the Earth would begin to warm-up and awake after a winter’s sleeping under a freezing blanket of ice and snow.

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41 Sunset Avenue, Westhampton Beach, NY, it’s cottage garden curb view,

A woman – tall, thin, over the top jogging like her life depended on it – would bolt by some Saturdays. I would watch her in motion wondering what she was running from with these bird legs of hers. Being a prankster at heart, I decided to foil her jaunt. Taking a chance, the next Saturday, i began to pull out the intrusive pineapple mint by the public sidewalk and pile their roots, stems, and leaves onto the cement. It was a mini-roadblock. As predicted the runner and her big nose came by but could not get by the pile of deliciously fragrant pineapple. Running in place, she yipped at me, “You can’t pile your garbage on the sidewalk.” I was bent over with my arse in her direction (on purpose).

I stood up (all five feet two inches to her height), turned around in her direction and said, “Aye, it is a wee bit of a mess, but it is not garbage. It is pineapple mint and makes a loverly bouquet.” She made a perfect toothed semi-smirky face. I smiled my normal charming grin showing off my dimples and flashing green peepers.

“Fine, but it is in my way.”

I slowly brushed off me muddy knees and with the drama of a Jane Austin scene in slo-mo removed my aqua leather gardening gloves. The die-heart Manhattanite continued to run in place.

“Ya know, the one about take time to smell the roses? Maybe ya might want to try it some time.” She stopped running in place. I was unsure if she was going to clock my mug or madly kick the mint off the sidewalk.

“You’re right. I am always getting ready to go somewhere or i am on my way going somewhere . . . . so I probably miss a lot.” Then to my surprise she plopped down on the pile of pineapple mint. The scent filled our little tete a tete. We both laughed. Me, I think, out of surprise and her because she needed to let go of stress stuck inside her like cornbread stuffing for a Thanksgiving turkey.

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View of 41 Sunset Ave, from the north west corner.

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My upstairs studio, 41 Sunset Ave.

From that Saturday forward, for the next five summers, once in awhile, she would stop during her runs. We would yak about flowers, the love of men, women with vision, birds, and relevancy in life on the planet Earth. When my husband and I opened Cafe HeBird SheBird she became a semi-regular customer like we were a drive-by? I only knew her by her first name as she always paid in cash.

One morning, standing at the espresso machine whipping up a diet syrup Amaretto latte to go for her, she said with a kinda snotty Queens accent, “Bonnie DiPietro, I do not think I ever introduced myself to you. My name is Donna Karan.” I did not flinch and turned on the steamer to make foam for the latte. When finished I cleverly added a latte art of a pair of swirly birds, as she watched. With a giant twinkle of a smile, I handed up the cup over the counter clad in Italian marble.

Beaming even more, I said, “On the house, and nice to meet ya.”

I am not a nice Jewish girl from Queens but i married a terrific guy from Brooklyn so maybe this is what broke the ice?

It is who we love and how we chose to live our lives that decides the authenticated quality of our three weeks on Earth – including horrific mistakes and intimate misbegotten happenings.

What we wear for hotsy rags to be trendy and look beautiful as a sensual woman is a simple feminine desire to feel good about ourselves. I have never worn a DK and probably never will. So far, I don’t need to – as my raging self-esteem is not defined by a brand or who by happenstance are illusive ‘friends’. I am a Californian. We prefer swinging colors to NYC sleek black and chic.

Status Quo is a Poor Praxis

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#Justice seekers come in a range of colors, sizes, shoe style, brain ability, heart expanse, and head gear. A few generate golden halos, yet most are hopefully involved to drudge and purge for the greater good. What has perplexed me for decades roaming around the edges of the power elite is how sustaining remains the Peter Principle* in leadership. How come resumes and vitae are more important than the strength of innards, innate mettle or a high index reading on a compassion meter? I realize it is who you know, not what you are that propels one forward into Murica’s civil society leadership. This is not news – ask any recent #Yale or #Harvard grad how they expect to get their career launching position.

#America suffered a head-on collision when it fell in love with corporate paid academics, corporate consultants, and politically handsome adept talkers (read bullshitters). Cultural creative problem solving and multitude deployment of common sense went out with a tsunami tidal surge of greed and fear in favor of public conformity (read miniaturizing of the soul) to maintain generational status quo as the be all, end all. Do not read what follows as if i am anti-tradition, for i am in many aspects of my perspective a thumper for the observance of rituals and an advocate of heritage of family, culture, and community.

What brings me to this rant is reviewing a govt. board of leaders in NY State who manage energy policy. I was researching their bios and their spouses bios – this is normal for me to look for the usual bedrock of nepotism and overt cronyism. Every single one of these folks I bet at age 17 was a dynamic individual in waiting. They then went out into society and subsequently bought into the empire’s paradigm of following the leaders who follow the leaders to become the leaders.

Getting the big bucks wearing suits taking up space on the bench is a lifestyle. Never solving quickly the systemic problem is the institution. What i call ‘the get along to go along m.o.’ to win the five bedroom home on the cul-de-sac. These elephantine feeding fests define and divine America’s postulates for the good life. A good education barely evolves toward innovation let along pushing the culture forward toward equality and balance. Americans seeking shelter and #Armani sell out stuck in fear believing they are doing it for family and flag. It is a convenient play to cultivate same same.

Recently, I raised a query with an activist journalist how a newbie activist was a lifelong consultant for the business as usual mind f*cks who are destroying Earth. Her response was classic, “Well, everybody has to make a living.” Then she went on to explain her time served for Big Pharma. Justification is fate?

I too slaved for the #empire as a creative director and whipper snapper VP for the third largest ad agency on the planet. But, then one cloudy day, not that old, I got up and walked out leaving projects in the lurch and future lawsuits pending (regarding performance contracts). I am unsure what was my exiting epiphany. It was a foggy morning by the city by the bay. I could not see a damn thing through the giant windows of the 22nd floor corner office I was inhabiting – except a yukky putrid yellowish grayish color. Somehow, this highrise view triggered massive pings of consciousness and conscience. Or maybe, it was the manifestation of the pineal gland seeing not just looking. It was one of my better life changing decisions.

Ethical regards is a term i use, but not like cotton candy or to slather up the room replete in too many memories. It means something significant because without values American humanity would be nothing but cash machines and shopping sprees. Oh, you noticed, too, eh?

The entire argument over a $15 per hour wage is ridiculous. No one can live on that, or less, inside mall brained, credit-card scared, war-binging America. Let us get real. It take more constant ingenuity and astute daily emergency planning to live at the poverty level than any Wharton School of Business grad has ever known. A living wage is available at $100K annually, for everybody, if we awake and take the throttle away from the war mongering overseers.

About 50 million Americans live below the poverty line, which the federal government defined in 2013 as an annual income of $23,550 for a family of four. In 2007, the year before Obama took office, the poverty rate was 12.5 percent. There are an estimated 320 million Americans. The American diaspora (expats living overseas, like me) is estimated between 3 and 7 million, but i would venture the number is growing exponentially. Those living in extreme poverty inside the US of Constant Wars ($2 per day) is up 159% since 1996 at a current estimated 1.85 million.

Cutting to the front of the flock – there should be citizen activists not caught in the corporate trap serving on every govt. ruling body in America. They should be appointed but not by resume, merit, hair style, friendships, or social relevancy. They are there because they exhibit a value structure of endurance not cooked by ego, familial or political connections. They are connected because they are noisy advocates for life. We use to call these citizens advisory committees but what I am proposing is a realignment of leadership, from middle to top to bottom. We would not junk competition and ego ambition but insert into the human equation of paying it forward thoughtful folks with passionate ethics and raging empathy.

Resumes never told me anything mind blowing about a person, but then again I had portfolios to review, music to listen, and writing samples to read.

In my idealism as commandeer of the wholistic world where ethics over ride greed, every single govt. appointed board would include members who were not from the prevailing status quo. The new blood might be everyday Joe or Jill citizen or a far out artist – but each exhibits a fresh vision for his or her community. They are the people who refuse to accept what it is under the pretense of that is all there is, and why change it. They look for the simple pathway through the mazes of the bureaucracy because they have survived it to the best of their imaginative ability.

Too many of us are taught sheepskin dullness is sparkling and we acquiesce to the power structure constrained by its own pitiful inane smallness. Wholism is expansive – it is experimental, it is harmony, it is energy. Education is not limited to residing in the artificial lit halls of demagoguery, academia, or cubical corporations. Some of the most inspiring appeals i witnessed at the podium originated from ‘regular’ folks who used common sense coupled to simple organizing of thoughts. They saw from the original light with no special interest pulsing from the darkness “do this, not that.”

Pettiness is inherent in organizations designed to exist ad infinitum. This is why term limits are vital to a living govt. No one should be elected in govt, appointed to govt. posts, or serve in govt. without a sunset clause. For a US Senator or Representative to hold court for anything more than 12 years is a set-up for situations of control and narrowness as it is sadly human nature to fuss protecting a dominion once it becomes solidified.

Change is pandered about as not normal for humans. This is a crock of crap. We are the most adaptable species on this gorgeous blue marble. If you doubt it, look at the abject shit people put up with in the ever widening spectrum of horror shows. We know how to change. The empire sells this status quo myth to keep the service economy plantation working and the war machines pumping out profit for the elite. It repeats constantly (at least in the western world) this is how you get ahead in life. You follow form. You conform to what is expected and viola you excel in life. This is the ‘you are what you drive’ mythology of contemporary existence in prozac nation.

Every artist, scientist, thinker, doer, believer, and tinker who does not buy into the mental madness of conformity succeeds. They innovate. They create. They solve the problem. They excel. They become their dreams.

What are you waiting for? Nothing changes if nothing changes.

“Change unleashes people’s creative energy.”

*The Peter Principle is a concept in management theory formulated by Laurence J. Peter in which the selection of a candidate for a position is based on the candidate’s performance in their current role, rather than on abilities relevant to the intended role. Thus, employees only stop being promoted once they can no longer perform effectively, and “managers rise to the level of their incompetence.”

Spying on the Spies Spying on Us

Spies spy, this is their official overt mandate although their actions are suppose to be covert. NSA spying on allies is not shocking to me (see Guardian article below). When you operate from a paranoid world-view that everyone is out to get you (read US of Constant Wars) what can one expect? This is why France’s political power base is going to vote for new powers to spy on its own citizenry. Everyone spying on everyone else is a surveillance political circle jerk (sorry for the graphic). What is scary is how easily it is to procure sensitive info and sell it to the highest bidder. As such, even Ben Franklin’s son William, a loyalist, sold information about his father to the Crown.

Snowden, Manning, Hammond, and other whistleblowers of our war economy horrific times are not offering revelations for money nor do i believe they acted from a childish need for attention. They came forward to warn and inform the world and consequently are suffering the wrath of the empire. Hypocrisy exhibited is pro forma for the empire’s hollow leadership where values and ethics are neither affirmed nor sought. For the security apparatus to perceive Julian Assange equal to a full blown terrorist ramped up to kill kids in a Pakistan school is insane. It is beyond disturbing the empire sees journalists and journalism in the same waterboarding shadows as the madmen who send kids wired with chest bombs into places of worship.

‪#‎WikiLeaks‬ publishes and also archives massive amounts of communications between nefarious govt. actors and corrupted entities along with other pertinent documents in what can only be termed – perennial intrigues. Without astute technical nerd skills to house and safeguard these cables, and various other significant data materials, you and I would be further stuck behind higher and thicker opaque walls unable to see let alone hear the truth.

For many years I rummaged around inside the dumps of political madness and historical outlines attempting to personally comprehend America’s innards and decode interlinking webs to explain same to myself, and to you. Unfortunately, in Murica big news qualifies as the opening of the newest micro-brewery or an orchestrated derailment from truth by the latest piddle stream media spin.

H/w example of a derailment = The funeral tomorrow in Charleston, South Carolina and the harangue over the Confederate colors – the battle flag of Gen. Robert E. Lee’s Army of Northern Virginia. i guarantee the media will rage on for months as THE debate of heritage. South Carolina was the first state to secede, two months after the election of Abraham Lincoln. It was in South Carolina the Civil War began, when the Confederacy fired on Fort Sumter. Taking down flags that supported black slavery as the basis of white equality is reverse bigotry? It has been 150+ years the Confederate flag has flown over public buildings.

Side bar:
Souls who died or were wounded in the American Civil War (April 12, 1861 to April 9, 1865).
Union =
140,414 killed in action
~ 365,000 total dead
275,200 wounded
Confederates =
72,524 killed in action
~ 260,000 total dead
137,000+ wounded
Civilian =
75,000+
number of wounded unknown

700,000+ dead
412,200+ wounded

These numbers may sound like the south won but the north had 2 million soldiers and the south only had 1 million. Disease is what also killed, not just stupid macho bull corn called collateral murdering (war) for one’s beliefs.

Core-bemoaning – what i label the wholistic smews I write – is not popular as it requires an attention span and curious intelligence to stay the course during unfolding events without forgetting critical thinking.

I wear no mask. I am an open book with thick covers. No one is around to put a paper bag over my head. My agenda is information as a format of communication art.

The incredible dramatic need for the healing of human systemic rot is a world-wide emergency. Some of you nice folks are growing strawberries and backyard chickens as your preference to fighting the flailing system. Others of you, in desperate and far deeper piles of shit, work like crazed camels to educate the next generation (your kids) in hopes they can assume the throne of power and shift the paradigm.

My life is simple and free. Because of decades of working on a treadmill I now have the time and a devoted inclination to over come disinformation machinations by offering commentary based in factual reality. No one is my boss. No one tells me what to quote, state, or bemoan. The Net places our communications equal to any news service. Transparency, ethics, and SEO expertise can foist anyone above the din and matrix noise. Yet, be assured I am not operating as a lone wolf.

The Highlander drum I beat is repetitive and at times this grates on my snotty creative persona. I prefer jazz bent originality or at least a fresh scene to write a finer script. Yet, to help others discover the facts to break denial demands consistency be one more sharp tool to dismantle the clown car while building a bridge across the abyss of apathy.

Writing in cliche is on purpose. Making up words is part of my recovering stony writer’s prerogative. Re-using hot shot buzz words is strategic intent. Yet, facts are researched and confirmed. If i am duped into posting something faux hopefully i am the first to admit it.

What is unacceptable is the intrusion of our privacy and the alteration of justice by greed, or any other negative. What is wasteful and stupid is sexual harassment by trolls and other nut jobs.

‪#‎Freedom‬ and prosperity are not mutually exclusive. As those with conscience awake and become enraged I am not seeking a resolution by igniting anarchy. I am a Ben Franklin styled pacifist (see pbs link below). My personal goal is not to violently overthrow corporate govts., religiosity, and/or civil society. But, while i might parse out slices of mountain berry and apple pie doused in lemon curd the iced chai tea I serve is not brewed by the ‪#‎NSA‬ or, any of its subcontractors. I remain a peace and freedom revolutionary.

http://www.grammarphobia.com/blog/2012/05/surveil.html

http://www.pbs.org/benfranklin/l3_world_spies.html

http://www.theguardian.com/world/2015/jun/24/francois-hollande-says-us-spying-on-french-officials-unacceptable-nsa

America is Not Heaven

May I offer this to those who think moving to #America is finding #utopia. What you see in movies – where everyone lives in magnificence and designer surroundings driving the hottie car of the year while buying whatever their heart desires is mostly a cleverly staged falsehood. 30% of kids in America go to bed hungry. The largest jail population on the planet is in America. The Bill of Rights is under assault by the #1%, who control the means of production sprouting war after war. Not all is well in #Murica (America). Yet, I am positive compared to most circumstances in #MENA, it seems the answer to one’s prayers. It may well be, yet, seeker beware.

Now, if you can can live in a small #Murica town or cool urban neighborhood, surrounded by the countryside, and love family, community, integrity, and what you do for a living while not being swallowed up by overt consumerism – then America is wonderful in its ignorance is bliss-ness.

If your rising expectations are to live like a Hollywood star or starlet and forget the roots of your culture and faith, then you are deceiving yourself. This is the immaturity of a child dreaming of a world comprised of sugar plums, magic, and fairy dust where trees shed hundred dollar bills.

Professionals with serious skills will find an easier go living in America to raise their family and pursue their career goals – if one’s education is superior and sponsored for #immigration. Got that? This is the set of keys. Be the best you can be as a human being with peace in your heart and a destiny of paying it forward awaits you.

I prefer to live in #Costa Rica (since 2007) and visit America, mainly because we land banked our wherewithal here, on purpose (no capital gain taxes). Yet, for sure, I relish living in this amazing nature country with no military and CR is not at war with any other country. Ticos are kindly, polite, and HAPPY. Hopefully, Internet access will not screw them up into wannabees where more is never enough.

Last Thursday, I returned from Murica (America) so this is my re-entry assessment. Yes, i shopped and procured items I cannot get here in CR. Yes, i took advantage of a medical system I pay into in Murica and not available here in CR, Yep, my brother’s home and it’s decor is super in elegance and exceedingly larger than my jungle hut. We both have glorious views. In fact, he is adding on and renovating his first floor with superior products (copper clad wood windows, french doors, etc.) not available here in CR. Have you figured out the sibling competitive angle is inherent?

Yet, I am having hardwood floors (direct from the local mill) installed in my hut’s studio not available in Murica – neither in weight, quality, nor price. Retired Bro lives in a beautiful ranch countryside – the Texas Hill Country. One must drive at least 25 miles to shop for a toothbrush, plus the intrusion of development is faster than lightning hitting a prairie dog compound. I live in a decidedly gorgeous remote jungle, no friggin’ doubt about it. Yet, it is 25 minutes to the ‘city’ and it is 20 minutes the other direction to tropical beaches more wild and spectacular than you can imagine. There are no freeways, here. There are barely passable one way bridges instead of overpasses larger than Yankee Stadium (the olde one). And, of course there are no Buckee’s in CR.

Bro railed at me I need to manage my money better and my response was nearly spitting out my molars, but in quiet despair (mine, not his). Of the two of us, my simple, yet loverly pristine lifestyle is doable and exceedingly reasonable. He is the one with the $350 per month utility bill, and I am the one with the $22 per month (all hydro generated off the national CR grid) one. The utility bill for three businesses and my husband’s and our home in the Hamptons, NY, averaged $4 to $5.5 Gs per month without adding cost of propane fuel for heat (we had three 450 gallon tanks buried so we could buy at wholesale at NY docks prices during the summertime).

Bro’s generosity knows no bounds, but then again he is currently my only heir (and not vice a versa).

My cup ‘ranneth’ over with the high style of life. It did not make me measurably happier and generated stress upon stress to sustain; year after year. Not because i was hung up on the lifestyle did I continue, year after year, but because in my blindness and concern i though i could contribute to my community, my country, AND make a creative difference along with a decent living. We each subscribe to our personalized myth and then once entrenched look for exit signs?

Traveling, of course, is greatly appreciated except for the #TSA’s bull dung (see photo attached).

The overt and covert kindness to me by my smarty pants family, while in the states is remarkable. Yet, none come here to visit allowing me to return the favors so these could be divined as guilt gifts? But, probably not – they are too self-assured for such hidden emotive agendas?

My bro was last here at Finca Vigia right after my husband died, to help me. Bro was fantastic. No, Bro is fantastic, as to why he insists on telling me how to live my life is absurd – but i think this is his fear acting out. He is an older brother. His wife also attempts to manage me. They were success junkies who managed others and budgets. Somehow, they see me as someone I am not? I am a strong personality (as they are) with uncured opinions (as they are) who has been through enough pools of burning caca to flood California (as they have not). Most of the time I nod yep, and then not dwell on the fact I can’t stand being told what to do by them, or just about anyone else. God can testify to my inherited character defect.

All creatives ‘no likee’ unsolicited input. The rest of my family also cannot stand the advice rendering – yet, I think Bro and Mrs. Bro Managers have given up on them, so I am the lucky moving target since I arrive for brief interludes.

Each time i return to the homeland, I sense the civil society fear has notched up several more levels coupled to the secure apathy inherent in the upper middle class my family inhabit. In contrast, I operate in an earthy pungent flowery universe. I believe I treat everyone lovingly with a sense of humor – the same for my superior fancy arse cardiologists to the guy banging nails at my bro’s or Tony C working in my hut laying down a floor.

No one in my family is a phony, and for this I am filled with gratitude. Yet, their orientation to time and the here and now is far far different than my own. They fill their days and nights with projects I find counterproductive to Earth’s sustainability. But, then again I am the revolutionary thinker, the writer, the ‘ranter’, and the noisy introvert who lives in the moment, in mindfulness, watching birds, growing ideas, and stirring up shit in social media.

Do i want to spend the reminder of my life as a single in the rainforest with toucans, bugs larger than my face, howling monkeys, and German Shepherds? Nope. I would like to share a partnered life with one more version of a happy brilliant sexy man who possesses little worries and a deep-seated faith in himself, and his God. The ideal candidate loves family, independence, adventure, nature, dogs, and making difference. Ah shit, this sounds like a pity pot ad in a personal column. It is not meant as such.

This is my digital journal. I jot down stuff here, rather than an actual notebook. But, I keep a small real notebook to write down (yes, pens are still circulating as implements) important crap I forget too easily including web links, ideas for articles, rants, names, concepts, and possible dialogue for my latest tome. My birding journal is more scientific and artsy.

Writers write because they have no other choice. You do have a choice. You can read this banality tongue in cheek (as proffered) or pass on by to the next instant gratification feed.

TSA sheet one

How to Kill Us, by Barack Obama

As we close this year, 2013, and jump to the next chronological one there are a few conclusions the world can draw without going on-line or talking with a neighbor for the latest local smews (my made up word for . . . come on, you get this, please tell me you get this). 

 

Here is the sharpened end of the 2 by 4 to our third eyes, fellow humans.

 

Let us being with what the president of the United States purports and end with what he is doing to destroy our planet in the name of control freaks currently making oodles of faux minted profit on Wall Street.  Twitter is my favorite example of Looney Tunes, Inc.

Twitter, a company with a zero profit basis, is now “worth” $45 billion but it is beginning to fall back to Earth.  “The company may have the highest market value of any firm that isn’t generating any earnings since the dot-com bubble of 1999-2000.” Barrons.

 

Another episode from Looney Tunes, Inc., is an Obama quote from 2008, “Time to end the tyranny of oil.  In my administration, the rise of the oceans will begin to slow.”

 

What Obama has done is the exact opposite to satisfy his guy buddy dirty oil industry, to feed his fat false flag drone prone ego, and to make sure the 7th generation probably has no friggin’ chance of existing.

 

If I sound like a fatalist, I am pissed off today looking back on 2013 and seeing how much systemic damage and irrevocable destruction you and I wrecked on Earth these last twelve months.  Catch a grip.  I would not keep posting in social media, ‘pen’ articles, or write this blog if I thought all hope was lost in the madness.  Will I personally see you rise-up and shake the foundations of the fracking industry or end the obsessive piercing of our one and only spaceship before I take a hike into the big jungle in the sky?  Doris Day and Hoopoe may have the answer – Que Sera Sera.

 

I surrender there is probably not a chance in hell or heaven, or walking the moon, you are going to get your shit together humanity to thwart the tyrannical destruction of ourselves. But, I keep my birdy petard swinging above the jungle.  Why? I am an optimistic fool, and I am not talking about the major arcane card in the Tarot, or maybe I am – more is to be revealed?

 

My emotive response to every single fracking unit, every single pipeline, every single transmission line, every single offshore rig, every single painful intrusion of this precious planet to drain it of its blood (gas and oil) could send me into an epic rant. I am not yet frothing at the heart with twenty-four simultaneous toothaches of the mind. I am getting damn close.

 

Most of the oil and gas underground has to stay there if were are going to slow climate change.  Look at this double whammy.  Dirty oil needs dirty oil to drill, frack, and drill some more, baby.  As island nations begin to migrate off their lands to continents America exported the equivalent of 55 million cars last year (2012) in the form of oil and gas.

 

The follies of Obama’s energy policies are the end game of our species.  Boasting his pet industry is encircling the globe with pipelines he is all in favor of making an American dirty oil industry independent of OPEC to feed the greed of his major contributors. Uh? Going independent does not change the paradigm.  My homeland nation’s gubberstand is now responsible for more pollution on Earth than even China. You will not see these stats going viral.

 

Obama’s support of Shell’s development of what is under the Arctic Circle makes up the largest pools of carbon Earth.  If this drill baby drill happens, it is game over folks for the climate.

 

What is not told to you is this and I hope you take this news and scream it from your cardboard box under the freeway to your estate in The Hamptons to your gasoline station in Yountville, Napa Valley, California.

 

Oil, gas, and shale oil are exactly like the additive fluid you pour into in your vehicle’s radiator.  These systems of interlinking underground planetary-wide fluids keep Earth livable for us.  It is the miracle of billions of years of life for our sorry asses to breath, eat, and mate.

 

In other words every time you fire up your vehicle, take a plane ride to Costa Rica, smoke a cig, or drive over to Costco you are killing yourself, draining away any chance of our species seeing 2204 (read or sooner).  Each of these acts additionally destroys the wild worlds of both land and sea, and consequently forces Gaia to respond in dramatic survival attempts like mega storms such as Sandy, the highest wind havoc over the Philippines, and whatever is going to take place in 2014, and beyond.

 

We have a choice.  But, if you expect Obama or the snots in Saudi Arabia or the jerks in the Canadian parliament stepping up to plate to call major foul, you have an innate yet active death wish.

 

The solution, if you can take your head out of the tar sands, your arse out of the drilling rig, and show courage in spite of your combat assignment to protect dirty oil is very, very simple – walk away from the madness.  Stop the self-fulfilling merry-go-around and believe your brain muscle can activate to stop climate change by ending the bleeding to death of the fluid system our planet deploys to keep us a beautiful blue marble.

 

Big oil must end its strangle hold and it begins with you.  My job, until the day I no longer breathe, is to keep hounding you and bitching at you the realities of what our species is doing to the mother ship.

 

In August, of 2013, the largest forest fire in the history of Sierra Nevadas was burning in Yosemite National Park while the US Bureau of Land Management hoped to auction off 316 million tons of taxpayer coal in Wyoming’s Power River basin.  The emissions from that sale equal the carbon footprint of 109 million cars (even with the new Detroit standards).

 

Then there is military and dirty oil exploration via sonar and the largest human machines on earth (marine based ‘bombing’ using remote sensing), coupled to govt. sanctioned insanity destroying marine species. These human stupidities are at such a fast clip it is likely the next human generation will only know about Flipper and Blue Whales from Netflix movie clips or the Nature Channel. This is not science fiction. Well, it is a new agie spiritual hate ourselves staving splinters into our human souls. No amount of eating raw foods, going on DMT sacred vine trips, or living in a Teepee are going to manifest a human collective consciousness of action. You can decide this for yourselves but as a weak knead student of history futuristic prognosis is not good. We are the most selfish, self-absorbed, narcissistic, drunk on our ids species to probably ever walk upright, hereabouts. 

 

Positively, we have been able to beat back 100 new fossil fuel plants in America the last few years but fracking is every day destroying the North American continent’s ability to manage the climate.  China is help bent on its economical goal to rule the world willing to sacrifice millions of choking Chinese lungs and the entire African continent if necessary. 

 

During the 2012 record of the greatest Arctic melt on record Obama said, “Our pioneering spirit is naturally drawn to this region, for the economic opportunities it presents.”

 

What more do you need to know? I use to write about how the world is going to look back on Obama’s record. Today, I do not 99% believe our species is going to live long enough to experience such reflection.

 

The 59th minute is here for humanity and nadakind. The lowest barometric pressure was recorded off Cape Hatteras, North Carolina, during Sandy, a mega storm I began to warn my friends on the East Coast two weeks before it hit America. How did I know? I am no seer. The birds told me so.

 

Signs are everywhere if you want to pay attention.  We have crossed over the threshold.  No one is going to give me a National Science Award for ringing the bell at the monastery for predicting our species will be stopped dead in its horrific tracks by a power greater than ourselves – Earth.

 

You have one more minute.  Use it wisely, and as The Diggers hero, Peter Coyote, recently emailed me, “be careful.” Thanks for the heads-up, Pete. Ditto to you, and yours Image

Zen-priest.

 

 

(And, then she was NSA’d, no longer able to sing her song.)