Friday, August 31, 2007

Capitalizing on mankind's fear of death

There seems to be a clear line of demarcation between those who value and respect human life and those who appear to be unable to. The Ojai Post has become an excellent forum, which clearly demonstrates this difference in perspective. There's a growing body of evidence which seems to prove that perspectives can and have been tainted by the use of 'terror management' tactics.

The New Republic has published an article that sheds light on why the 'terror show' has been so effective. Here's an excerpt and link to the original article: "Over the next decade, the three [Solomon, Greenberg, and Pyszczyn- ski] performed similar experiments to illustrate how awareness of death could provoke worldview defense. They showed that what they now called "mortality salience" affected people's view of other races, religions, and nations."

I offer this with the intention that we all can begin to transcend our biologically driven impulse to marginalize and generalize. To me, peace means no one is excluded. This is not an easy pill to swallow and I do not pretend to be beyond 'terror management' tactics or even above exclusion. I believe that the way out is first thru awareness of where and when our perspectives are being altered and distorted by the fear death. Advertisers and news media outlets have perfected the human's fascination with death as a way of generating attention and cash. Our political machine continually and predictably lives, breathes and exudes horror and 'terror' as a way of influencing public opinion in this country.

How do we transcend the saturation of fear based control tactics? We can diversify our sources of information. We can recognize that we are not our beliefs. This will cultivate healthy detachment and allow the inertia of our current paradigm have less mass and be more adaptable. We can start having media free days. We can reacquaint ourselves with the natural environment thru hiking, going to the beach, mountain biking. When we immerse ourselves in the sonic landscape of nature, we can shift from our sympathetic nervous system to our parasympathetic nervous system. Creativity can then be accessed. Stone cold hearts can begin to thaw. The most intelligent thing I can say is: I don't know. This allows new information to be integrated. It is thru vigilance, strength and a strong sense of self that allows one to see the need to surrender and thus allow for an update. The world is changing at an ever increasing rate. We can change and grow with it or be left on the sidelines living in self-created museums.

AddThis Social Bookmark Button



Tuesday, August 28, 2007

Wardo in Chile

Gas Pump Prank!

This is good stuff, check it out, trust me.

Japanese Pranks

This may be funny for some of you...

Monday, August 27, 2007

Dropping in can be dangerous

This past Sunday I had a decent surf session at C-street. The waves had been breaking in a way which made my surfing in the quad fish easier. Afterwards, I stood in front of the Beam wathching the other surfers make their attempts to catch waves. Within seconds of checking out the surf scene, I watched a shortboarder on a cobalt blue board catch a waste high one that he took right. A longboarder dropped in on the wave only 10 feet in front. Cobalt blue shot along trying to avoid the clueless kook by going behind him. The interloper ends up falling off his 9 foot or so stick and I watch his board flip up end over end and come down on the head of cobalt blue. Surprisingly there was no altercation. I watched with interest as the 2 surfers had some words pass between them.

Dropping in on some one else's wave can be acceptable at times. It can be OK when the surfers both agree to share the wave. Some of my fave rides have been with my brother, Brian. This past winter, we shared some beefy head highs. I'll always remember Bri shooting along underneath me while we're both encouraging each other and laughing.

More often then not, dropping in on some one else's wave is looked at as an infraction. It is one of the most dangerous areas of surfing because getting hit in the head with a surf board can knock some one out. Fins can slice thru human flesh like a knife thru butter. The ocean is no place for bleeding or the unconscious.

I related the drop in story to a couple surfers yesterday. Bob shook he his head and then told me about his probem with another surfer. Bob had been out there on his shortboard for only a little while when a longboarder came by and proceeded to steal every wave from Bob. This longboarder was continually cutting Bob off and basically breaking the code of respect that helps create some order out of the natuarl chaos that ensues with multiple surfers. Bob confronted the longboarder and longboarder says: "What are you going to do about it?"

Bob does not say a word. He paddles back to his car and gets out his funboard: thicker, wider, longer, faster. Paddles back out immediatley and finds the longboarding kook. He then proceeds to serve up the same medicine until the kook finally paddles away further up the point because he could no longer catch a wave with Bob around. Bob follows the interloper and prevents him from getting another wave and finally the kook gave up and paddled back to shore. Hopefully he learned a lesson. Do not piss of shortboarders.

AddThis Social Bookmark Button


Sunday, August 26, 2007

Suffering, learning, worthiness and success

Progression and regression tend to go hand in hand with learning. Challenges offer us a chance to earn self respect by withstanding the feelings of frustration and self doubt. Perseverence and disciplne become the foundation which true success can build on. When our accomplishments feel hollow, it is because on some level we do not feel wothy of them. Thus, the fear of success suggests a weak foundation. The didjeridoo took several years for me to become farily accomplished. Although, circular breathing took me 2 and a half years of various internal martial arts and yoga to learn, this was only the beginning. After many years of performance, practice and aquiring new breathing techniqques, I began to tap in to the true potential of this wonderful wind instrument/meditation device etc. Thus, I have a strong foundation and it appears that after 14 years on this path, the changes wrought by these particular experiments are permanent - at least relatively permanent.

Surfing has provided me the opportunity to explore the deep feelings of inadequacy which always seem to be waiting in the wings when ever an important endeavor becomes challenging. The beauty of surfing is that it provides various tiers on which one can enter depending on body coordination and size. My first board was a 6-11 80's style funboard made by Becker. This was a great board for me because even thought it was fairly short for a beginner, it was 3 inches thick and over 21 inches wide and thus provided the buoyancy I needed. Catching a wave is the first real challenge for the beginner surfer. One must develop the ability to read the wave, place themselves in the 'right spot' and paddle strong enough to pull thru the wave. The next challenge becomes popping up. Thus, the length and thickness of a surfboard can be the determining factor on whether some one will catch waves and then stand on the board. Size of the board will contribute to how much the newbie will suffer.

For the last 4 years or so, I have used an 8 foot fun/longboard while in California. This board allowed me to finally catch alot of waves. It gave me a great deal of leeway and as my paddling improved, I soon began to go faster than the wave. This allowed my to catch just about anything. I also began to get quite comfortable with the pop up and learned to land like a cat. The soft landing kept me from slowing the board down and I learned how to get great wave positioning. Three months ago, I bought a 5-11 fish. I tried it right away, but ended up going back to the 8 footer because the challenge of dropping down over two feet was too much for me. It wasn't until I sold the 8 footer to Ryan, that I was forced to take the next step. After a month of having to withstand the price of beginning something new, I have crossed the threshold. I still have a great deal to learn but a new foundation has been set in the shores of the ocean. Surfing has become my yogic practice. Every morning, the first thing I check is my tide watch.

This experience leaves me with some questions. Does true learning require suffering? When learing is fun, is this because it is superficial and the soul is not involved? As humanity seems to suffer endlessly, is it learning anything? As God explores itself, does it suffer? Are feelings of worthiness and success necessary for learning?
AddThis Social Bookmark Button


Thursday, August 23, 2007

Lovin' the fish!

I've been surfing every day for a while now - with the exception being last Sunday: Radar Sherpa's Malibu performance. No longer do I have the 8 foot wave catching machine. It now belongs to Ryan. The past month or so has been a struggle as I have dropped down to a 5-11 fish. One day feels like I am making progress. Then days pass as if I have never been on a fish before. Wednesday and Thursday were total regression days. Big beautiful waves that I'd paddle for, make, pop up, get a view of the liquid wall and then I am tumbling like a ping pong ball in a lottery that I never win. Yesterday (Thurs), Magnus accompanied me on the surf sesh. He is from Sweeden. A chef who works part of the world and then travels the rest with his balsa wood surfboard that he picked up in Equador. Surprisingly it is a 5-11 fish. His is a twin though with wooden fins that are glassed in. So we are both out their at Pipes, he's charging on his twin and me on my quad. Part of my trouble was reading the waves. Finding the shoulder, the entry point the wave's sweet spot. The rest of my trouble was my clumsy pop up. Each time I failed, I immediately paddled out of the impact zone, back outside, forcing myself not to dwell within the feeding frenzy of frustration. Instead, I'd look forward to the next critical moment when everything happens so quickly. I want to be on the wave so much that I skip past the instant of getting vertical. Thus, these last two days had become my own personal limbic system workshop on coping with frustration. I left the ocean on Thursday resolved to head to the surf shop and get a transition board. Something like a 7-2 fish. Alas, the closest used board that Ventura Surf Shop had was a 6-10 twin fish for $375.00 this board looks just about right but I left the shop without it. I did not know it but I had reached a conclusion in that moment which probably impacted today's session. In the blink of an eye, I had realized that I wanted to stick it out with the 5-11 quad, give it a chance, pay my dues. I woke up today, itching to get in the ocean. The last several weeks of surfing had been purely an investment in loss. I arrived at The Point an hour after high tide and was met with goodsized clean lines, slightly ruffled with a 5 mph breeze. The temperature felt just right as I entered the ocean. Several surfers had tank top suits on and some even wore spring suits. One guy in a shaggy beard had a hood on, though. This day began like no other so far that the quad and I have been together. Catching 4 waves in a row in the first half hour had me so stoked that it is still with me. Each wave walled up and one gave me a hundred yard wave. I was finally able to carve, riding up to the lip and then making the redrop. Even the waves that I fell off on were fun. There was one that I was up to my needs in the white foam but still somehow maintaining balance with my right hand hyro-planing and then falling just before making it to the clear. As I got tired the rides became less and less until I caught an itty bitty to take me to the sshallows and then I jumped off the board and landed on my feet on slightly submerged river rocks semi gracefully.

A moment of terror began when I arrived home, after making the 25 minute drive, realizing that I had left my Psycho II wet suit on the ground at the beach. OOPS! Immediately I made the drive back in probably 15 minutes that invloved constant praying to God. So, anyway, the relief I experienced upon finding my Psycho II completely safe, still pretty damp and sitting on the little patch of green, was huge. Thanks God. Thank you Surfer's Point. Great surfers, friendly and honest - don't tell any one. Tomorrow, no matter what happens, I will have fun.
AddThis Social Bookmark Button


Monday, August 20, 2007

I Love Dogs

I love my dogs. All of them. They help mankind in more ways than most of us know. They teach us about unconditional love and loyalty. They teach us about patience. Dogs understand a great deal more than most of us think. They are tuned in to the emotional broadcasting channel to such a degree that we are nearly blind in comparison. They dial in to their caregiver's mood and will do anything to make him or her feel better. All they want and need is a proper diet, love and exercise. By feeding them, walking them and loving them, the caregiver gets rewarded in ways that are priceless. How much do we take our dogs for granted? The Michael Vick scandal has highlighted an immoral industry that normally remains hidden in the shadows. A celebrity executing beautiful lifeforms is nothing new, though. We have media celebrities executing beautiful human beings all around the world right underneath our noses. This is called war. Desensitization and brain massaging makes it possible. Distraction helps allow it to continue. Lets not let Michael Vick become the scape goat for a crime that is discreetly condoned by the vast majority of Americans who are unable to grasp that we all have spirit. Every atom. Every child. Every blade of grass. Every star. Every microbe. We create this wolrd together. We are all God exploring his/her/itself. Know that Michael Vick is fast asleep in some ways. Having accomplished so much financaily and athletically. Having reached such a celebrity staus. And yet, he still felt jaded. He even has contempt for dogs, killing them for sport and his own entertainment. How could he do this? All of his successes were hollow. He has yet to know that God, that spirit is in everything. Sometimes it is hard to make it out. Over time we can forget the connection we had in childhood. It can be easier then. Maybe Michael vick never felt a spiritual connection. Maybe he just did not know and became cynical. Just as the elite have been cyncial. What must their childhoods have been like to not know the joy that comes from petting a dog, smiling at a child or just handing a dollar bill to a homeless man on the corner. All is for giving. Suffering teaches us compassion. May prison unlock Michael Vick's heart. May the closed hearts of our jaded leaders gently open. This is my prayer.

AddThis Social Bookmark Button


Thursday, August 16, 2007

Smokey day hazy sunset

Awoke again to find ash on my black Beam, and haze changing the sky from azure blue to pale blue. The brownish smoke seemed to migrating from the southwest today. It had been coming more from just the west. I learned that the fire experts have been backburning while surfing in front of a red sun thru a layer of brown smoke.

I spent the better part of the afternoon editing the latest Radar Sherpa video. This one is called Trampoline Trance Dance. It is now live on YouTube for those unafraid to press link buttons. It seems to me that about 1 and 10 have the courage to press link buttons. Who are you?

The winds were blowing quite a bit today. Good news for pyros. Bad news for homeowners who are in the line of fire. I heard that they were hitting 30MPH at the beach from another surfer. His name is Mark and he happens to have the some board as I. Same dimensions. Same shaper. different colors. He is fun to surf with. Likes lefts and roots for the other surfers around him to pull thru, pop up and bust moves. The waters were all glassy by the time we all got out there. The wave were disorganized though. Well, actually they seemed organized to keep me off them. Kind of like women. I kept paddling and paddling but each wave seemed to back off and pass me by. I watched how each wave that I went for would break on either side of me. "Hmm," I thought, "I am always in the middle." I watch as this older dude keeps catching them. It was amazing. He'd be shooting by on a wave and then a minute later he's shooting by on a wave again. Days like this, I must admit that I am missing the 8 footer. These were pretty much long board rides. No real drop. Need some gravity. Anyway, at one point, this older dude paddle by and I am like 'Hi, I am the human buoy. He laughs at my joke and like 20 seconds later he is crusing by me on his board with this smooth little smile. I can't help but smile back. Then I hear my friend Mark say: "Hey, that's got to be Mickey Munoz." Turns out it was.

Back on land. I see that Mickey is parked next to me. I pay homage to him and marvel at his prowess. This man is ageless. In his 70's and catching waves like he's 20. It's a pleasure to talk to hime. He is so present. So completely zenned out. He smiles and tells me that he has not been able to surf for 30 days because he had some eye surgery. I can tell that this session has stoked him. Fed him. Fed his soul like nothing else. Mickey is one of the legends of the surfing world. I have read about him in surfing lore. What an honor to surf with him on the same waves and than share in a conversation with him. He eyes shined with the passion in his heart. This man is a board shaper and a soul surfer.
AddThis Social Bookmark Button


Wednesday, August 15, 2007

Radar Sherpa: Silhouette Show video


Monday, August 13, 2007

Silver lining on a toxic fair

The Ventura Fair has ended. In the past, I've always villified this event because of it appearing to be a slight against surfers or anyone else who wanted to enjoy Surfer's Point. Due to the number of folks who attend the fair each year, access is relegated to one road and many of Ventura's roads are closed off, turned into one ways, and traffic is concentrated into long meaningless detours. The road to The Point and the fairgrounds starts on 101's California St. exit and traffic tends to be pretty heavy leading to a great deal of unnecessary pollution. To top it off, it seems the many toxic fallouts encompass the health of those foolish enough to eat the food there. Even though the fairgrounds have been located across from Surfer's Point for 50 years now, the waves have been breaking there quite a bit longer. So when the fair rolls in to town and sets up their outdated rides and saturated fat stands, it has always been a harbinger for me to shake my head in disgust. But, no more. I have found the silver lining and it is the fact that there are a fraction of the amount of surfers out there on C-Street because most go else where or not at all.

This year, Ventura Surf Shop gets the Bardo Surfer Surf Shop Award because they do not try to make a buck off their parking lot as most businesses do (including the other surf shop located a few buildings down). Ventura Surf Shop remains true and fair to the surfers. They only allow customers and surfers to park and this is just what I did. The 500 m walk to the ocean became a pleasure. I felt gratitude to my fave surf shop and I enjoyed the walk knowing that there'd only be a handful of surfers out there. Along the walk, I'd walk by cars all lined up, engines running, waiting for their chance to park in the giant fairgrounds parking lot. Every time I passed the police at one of their road blocks, they'd have a stereo with Pink Floyd setting a surreal tone.

Today was my sixth or seventh day in a row. I'd gone up the coast a few times but the swell tends to catch on the point in a favorable way and so I kept coming back despite the extra walk. But there was no walk today, the fair ended on Sunday. Arriving at the Point, I was happy to see Caveman sitting on the narrow strip of grass which borders the parking lot and the boardwalk. He put his hand out and I shook it. He pointed to his boat, a couple hundred yards off the coast and invited me to paddle out to it. I agree.

I'm out there in the waves, catch a few and then comes Caveman, paddling by with a pack on his back filled with water jugs. I ride another wave and then paddle out behind him and then pass him. I climb up the ladder and attach my surfboard leash to his railing. Zac paddles out on his longboard. Standing on the prow, I stare at the shore, can just make out the other surfers, beachgoers and a brown plume of smoke rising over the hills just on the edge of Ventura County. The sailboat rocks in the sea. Cave shares some stories, plays the flute and talks about sailing out to the Channel Islands. He says that it is going to be breaking big there and he'll be going there in a couple nights. He explains how you cannot sleep in your boat while in harbors now unless the ship is 35 feet long. "I'm screwed," he says. It does not surprise me too much. The walls seem to be closing in everywhere. An endless trend to destroy the wilderness of the earth and the wildness in people.

Zac and I jump back in the water, free our boards and make the paddle back to shore. I catch some more waves and then I am back on land.

AddThis Social Bookmark Button


Heart Sutra Chanting (YouTube link)


Radar Sherpa performs Saturday nite at Jeffrey's (link)


Sunday, August 12, 2007



Friday, August 10, 2007

Free Lion Hugs!! (YouTube link)


Tuesday, August 07, 2007

Lincoln Moon

This is a painting I created using acrylic, a couple brushes and my fingers. I call it 'Lincoln Moon' because of the penny being used as the moon. This is my first painting in a couple years and there may be more to come. There are some thick layers but this angle does not pick it up.

AddThis Social Bookmark Button



I am living underwater
Breath is huge dreams are shorter
I am being overfed
Underground but I aint dead
How did you stand
Among these little men
Why not lay down
Or upside down
Or catch a breeze
Or just freeze

No more counter culture
Eaten alive by the media vulture
I am a dancing skeleton
No longer having fun
Got no muscles, brain or skin
Just the void I’m living in
Can’t go back to where I was
Everything changes just because

I got issues with the other field
Rotational vortex is the deal
Can I find the key to peace inside
Or pick the lock I hide behind
Even as a plane flies by
The birds still sing to the sky
Who am I?

The fire has gone away
Where fires go I cannot say
The ash is all that I have left
The black beam is now grey
I’ll wash it off with time and go
Paint a bridge of ice and snow
Melt it with an inside joke
Tear drops from an old man’s eye
Let it go with a sigh

I am nothing but a tree
Planted in earth’s crust of destiny
I can bend with the wind
Burned a hole thru all my friends
Can I grow despite my self
Can I reach the other side
Can I teach my Mr. Hyde

I blew up the other day
The fire has gone away
My voice cracked like a falling tree
Combustion is never free
Sooth my throat and wish for joy
Listen for my inner voice
Inside my heart it is a choice

Wash my car with a glass of water
The black beam will gleam and dream of another
Some other world some other place
Where the evidence makes sense
I’ll live alone inside a tent
Where waves break from heaven sent
There is no rent

I just want to get away
From all the pain and blame
All the guilt and all the shame
Of what could be but never will
My fault lines rumble and then go still

AddThis Social Bookmark Button


Monday, August 06, 2007

Breakdancing for the Pope (youtube link)


Sunday, August 05, 2007

The only Sun

Imagine what it's like to be the only one
in a world of loonies you're the only sun
Do you think it feels good to watch all the monkeys
turn into junkies
While the bus keeps on running
an eratic direction
eratic erection
do you like my inflection

David Bowie had it
then along came a spider
a black widow spider
sucking the light from the serpent
Had a heart attack from all the exertion
too much inertia
dragging a hearse of drama and curses

Imagine what it's like to be free of desire
No need to get higher
just having fun no need to argue with anyone
In a planetary prison there's no forgiving
the baggage is all that you think is real

I love my Teflon Shrub he's never known love
he'll push any button you don't need to shove him
The alcohol's flooding the bloodstream is bugging
the locusts are coming I think its funny

Mick Jagger has it so he hangs by himself in Acapulco
what he knows is the cosmic joke
he'll never go broke
He don't need no satifaction
he made a retraction
the game is rigged
its a brain stem attraction

I got a black beam
and I want to keep it black
its cooler than crack or a Big Mac attack
it keeps me on track
To where I am going
don't no where I'm going
the wind's always blowing
the traffic is slowing

There used to be alot of chosen few
who knew what to do
they'd make a vibration
take a vacation
make some elation
But nobody's seen them
I guess they decided to go
we were moving to slow
nothing to show
nowhere to grow

We're building machine guns
cause we are made of snow
frosty the snowman with no magic hat
just 3 snowballs
and a carrot.

(-:-) If you feel #it# click your heals and the button, baton on the right (-:-)
AddThis Social Bookmark Button

Mad cow disease or maybe they are too smart for their own good

I happened to see a photograph the other day of a Mad Cow on The Huffington Post. The pic has since been removed and so my description must suffice for the purpose of my theory. The cow that I saw depicted in the AP photo seemed severely distressed. His head was sticking out of the fence and his eyes were huge, like he'd just seen a ghost or maybe like he'd just gotten wind of his ridiculously cruel existence. This image stuck in my head and I kept returning to the sight to view the haunting and disturbing bovine. Then it kind of hit me: He was reaching out to me. This cow had figured it out. Not only was he mad - understandably - he was smart like Yogi Bear - smarter than the average cow. His brain had evolved overnight or something and he drew the correct conclusion: that he was hamburger meat, a Whopper, a Big Mac or maybe, adding insult to injury - just a cheeseburger. What a shocker that must have been. So, of course he went ballistic, started foaming at the mouth, stomping, trying to get the fuck out of dodge - wouldn't you if you knew you were heading to the slaughterhouse? The pasture is just one big outdoor nursing home that they are born into and then die in. What a hopeless life! As I reflected more on this poor critter's predicament, I realized that I was like that mad cow but I'd rather you think of me as a mad jaguar. Any way, after carefully researching the various agendas that have been folding and unfolding like a drunkard's version of origami, I can't help but conclude that we are all a bunch of cattle and that we are being treated as a resource by other cattle or better yet: pigs and sheep - thanks alot George Orwell. Talk about cannibalistic - can I go ballistic or what? It's like we are Hansel and Gretel, getting all fattened up on a poor diet of radioactive sugar and gentetcally modified soybeans so some psycho witch can eat us for supper. So I am that mad cow sticking his head outside the fence and braying, making my own little racquet, blogging, writing, painting, surfing like Johnathon Livingston Seagull, whatever, while the rest of the stock fight over the few bits of grass that manage to still grow in the trampled and toxic soil. It is just like Dr. Christopher Hyatt says: "Ignorance is necessary for the survival of the species."

(-:-) If you feel #it# click your heals and the button, baton on the right (-:-)
AddThis Social Bookmark Button

Saturday, August 04, 2007

Fake boobs

Ok so here's the deal. We here at bardo surfer just want the world to be consistent; is that too much to ask? Basically, baseball players and football players cannot use steroids and cyclists cannot use EPO or testesterone because they are gainging an unfair advantage, right? correct me if I am wrong, please. Then, follow me, don't answer the phone, thank you, then strippers, Hooter's waitresses and actresses should not be able to have fake boobs. Don't worry Pammela Anderson, you are not an actress. And, to take the fake boob thing further, we need tatoos to let the public or the lover know that the mammary glands are toxic. The tatoos can say things like: Do not drink and made in China. We can take a cue from ciggarettes and have a little box of words at the bottom of each breast that says: The surgeon general has determined that dirinking milk from silicone breasts can cause birth defects, cancer and eratic behavior. Do not operate heavy machinery like automobiles and chain saws after the consumtion of this beverage. If we don't take action soon who knows how far the toxic fallout will go.


Why aren't you married

I went to a doctor to fix my knee
He asked me why I’m not married
(I hear this every once in a while
Being 40 years old with so much style
You’d think by now I’d have a child)
I just smile and laugh and then I say
It does not appear I’ve been dealt those cards
Finding a good woman is impossibly hard
-for me
Maybe I’m too short
Maybe I’m too poor
Maybe I just have a low credit score
Dr Parks just smiles thru my tirade
It doesn’t matter as long as he gets paid
He’s got 35 grandchildren to support
And fixing monkeys like me is his sport
He says ‘You are such a hansom man’
I cannot believe there’s no woman
-for you’
What can I say I’ve heard this before
I’ve even considered classified whores
But I just don’t want to pay to score
I can blame it on America
Or attribute it to So Cal women
Or maybe I’m just way too slim for them
I can finally say I don’t care
I see a fine woman I never stare
I just walk away and beware
Cause they all seem to be so crazy
They love to shop so you can’t call them lazy

(-:-) If you feel #it# click your heals and the button, baton on the right (-:-)
AddThis Social Bookmark Button

Friday, August 03, 2007

Hey God - make me a star

I’m tired of inflicting suffering
On all the other crazy human beings
When all I want to do is help them sing their song
The key to happiness in the land of greed
Is giving more and planting seeds – of love and joy and peace

I want energy that has no price
I want an automobile that runs on rice
I want the homeless to have a place for them to live
Especially the kids
I want the US to know that it’s alright
There’s no need to live in constant fright
Take a deep breath
And bring in the light

And we all want to be celebrities
We‘ve all been taught by Ad TV
To go and seek gluttony
While so many live in poverty

Hey God - make me a star

I lived on a posh estate with a millionaire
He stole from me when he could have shared
I don’t have much and you got money to burn
-It feels much better when it’s earned

I’m thru with working for fools who have no sight
They don’t know me just want my light
For them to win you got to lose
They think it’s their game
So they break the rules

And we all want to be celebrities
That is what we’re led to believe
Get your face on a magazine
You just aint real unless your seen

Hey God - make me a star

I’m tired of children starving in Africa
For most it’s just a fictional drama
And the bombs keep falling upon the poor
We live in a world with constant war

I want to drink the water that comes out of my tap
I want a clean ocean not a deathtrap
All this drilling for oil is just a waste of time
-With no reason no rhyme

I want free energy that comes from the sun
I want a trillion dollars for everyone
I want the spirit to come alive inside me
So I can help the world turn the corner of destiny
-Take it all back from the disorderlies

Hey God – make me a star

And so we all want to be so happy
As we stare down the hole of crap TV
Wishing we were someone else
I know the pain is real as hell
drop another dollar in the wishing well

I know your trying everything to help you deal
There is a way out but it's not a pill
You got to walk before you start to run
Yo gotta learn to have fun in the sun
You'll never get love with a gun

We all want to be celebrities
Walk into a party of VIPs
And have them all know our name
So we can laugh and smile and pass the blame

Hey God - make me a star

(-:-) If you feel #it# click your heals and the button, baton on the right (-:-)
AddThis Social Bookmark Button

Jake Brown is Bardo Surfer warrior for August

Don't try this at home

(-:-) If you feel #it# click your heals and the button, baton on the right (-:-)
AddThis Social Bookmark Button

Thursday, August 02, 2007

The phone rings at 830

The phone rings at 8:30 AM. He’d gone to sleep at 3 AM not knowing that his sleep would be cut short. The Jaguar looks on the small screen and sees that the caller is a friend. “Hello.” Jaguar answers groggily.

His friend responds: “Hi Jaguar, did I wake you?”

“Yeah, what’s up?”

“I’ve got a meeting in San Diego, can’t get a hold of the sitter. Do you think you can watch the kids?”

Jaguar doesn’t need to think about this one, “Sure, what time?”

“Sorry to be so last minute – 9”

“Sure I can be there, just need to brush my teeth.”

With that, Jaguar lets his head sink back onto the soft, still warm pillow. “Things appear to be normalizing,” he thinks.

The black widow had woven her web of deceit. Deception and slander has been her modus operandi since the day she arrived in this sleepy town. Revenge is a sad way for someone to motivate their existence but that is just what the black widow does. She creates her own little secret web of reality in a dark, dirty and forgotten place. Then all she has to do is await for some damaged, hapless male to enter her sticky, sickly sweet domain. From a distance, many seem oblivious to the danger. The black widow’s poisonous nature seems so obvious to most but for some, her dark beauty overrides any hints of basic common sense.

Lucky for Jaguar, he has intrinsically extricated himself from the venomous clutches of this revenge-oriented arachnid. In retrospect, it’s a bizarre comedy for the benefit of all to watch a jaguar caught in the giant web of a giant spider. You see, the black widow is incapable of eating such a large cat. All she can do is wrap it in a cocoon and then show off her prize to the other spiders from Mars. Of course, they all think it’s hilarious and outrageous. They cackle and rub their legs together - oh what fun revenge can be for some.

But the real song is:

Why oh why does jaguar get away
Try with all our might but we cannot make him stay
Why can’t jaguar be our scapegoat
We love his fur and want to make it our coat

You watched the jaguar always jump higher
So then you trapped him in a web of mire
To your dismay he still got away
Despite all the venom
You lovelessly sent him
It wasn’t enough
He’s got elements up his sleeve
Does not matter what you believe
One is called metal
Another is fire
He’ll burn thru your traps
Exposing the liar

(-:-) If you feel #it# click your heals and the button, baton on the right (-:-)
AddThis Social Bookmark Button

thought police

(-:-) If you feel #it# click your heals and the button, baton on the right (-:-)
AddThis Social Bookmark Button

Wednesday, August 01, 2007

puppy and the jaguar

It was the whispering that finally sent him over the edge this time. You don't have to know the exact details of the lie which made the rounds of the community like the clap in a whorehouse. No. It is better that you don't know. The day started innocently enough. Drag had been begging for a hunting lesson. "Please, please, Please Jaguar! Take me hunting!" He repeated this mantra over and over like a puppy to his master that desperately wanted to go out for a walk. So, he decided to give Drag a free lesson. This was the first mistake. Drag had already flaked out 2 other times so when he did not answer his phone, the giant cat walked 3 or 4 blocks with the dog Jenny on a string tied to his claw.

He knocked on the door. No answer. The supreme predator could not believe he was going to be blown off by the puppy once again. "Hmm, that's the thing about puppies," he thought, "they do not know about respect." He turned the door knob on the front door and called in: "Drag? You alright?"

He could hear stirring and then a groan "Uhhh... oh is that you Jaguar? Oh... uh sorry... umm I decided to sleep in."

Jaguar grimaced inwardly at the puppy's complete lack of understanding in regards to jungle protocol. "That's OK, do you still want to hunt?"

Drag: "Yeah!" he sounds enthusiastic but remember, he is a puppy and has difficulty following thru on promises and appointments even if they are as impotant as hunting.

They hop in Drag's SUV and barely any time passes before Drag clearly demonstrates that he is incapable of playing the role of a student. This is a crucial skill when one is in the jungle. The pupil must be able to learn and respond quickly to instructions. This is called safety first. Drag repeatedly demonstrates that he woke up on the wrong side of the bed. He must have really been regretting how much he had begged for a free hunting lesson. The co dependence parade forces a circuitous route and Drag's agitation grows in leasps and bounds.

The jaguar has had enough and he finally says: "Stop. Let me out."

Drag: "What?! are you sure?"

Jaguar: "Yeah." He climbs out of the SUV. "Have a nice day." These will be the last words he says to that puppy. Within 20 seconds, a Pinto comes from the other direction. The driver's name turns out to be Michael. He has great advice and helps the jaguar relax somewhat while giving him a lift to Jennifer's.

(-:-) If you feel #it# click your heals and the button, baton on the right (-:-)
AddThis Social Bookmark Button

Synthetic Biology sets its sights on the Solar System

Title is a link to article (-:-)

Wooster Collective

(-:-) If you feel #it# click your heals and the button, baton on the right (-:-)
AddThis Social Bookmark Button