This is our new dog, Boden. He is eight weeks old.



Our neighbor's dog had eight Bernese Mountain Dog puppies (seven boys, one girl). He was the smallest of the pups when we saw him at two days old and he had a tough time fighting his way in to get milk from mom. We decided to keep an eye on him and a few weeks later he wasn't taking any crap from his siblings and was growing well, so we chose him for his gumption.

He is in my office right now, accompanying me back and forth to work while we crate train him. That way the little guy isn't home alone sitting on wet newspapers. When he is full grown, he will top our around 100 pounds and will stand 28 inches at the shoulders. We hope to train him to pull sleds and carts full of firewood and kids, because that is what his breed 'does' ever since the Romans brought them to Switzerland.

If Obama gets the Democratic nod, McCain wins by at least 10 points and takes at least 40 states.

Not quite Fritz Mondale or George McGovern territory, but Obama spells doom for the Democrat's chances

Originally in Vogue 1939 and appeared in Exit to Tomorrow: World's Fair Architecture, Design, Fashion 1933-2005.

Gilbert Rhode banishes buttons, pockets, collars, ties. The man of the next century will revolt against shaving and wear a beautiful beard, says the designer of boilers, pianos, clocks, and metal furniture. His hat will be an an antennae - snatching radio out of the ether. His socks disposable, his suit minus tie collar and buttons.

I've got some shoppin' to do

1. One to deny that the light bulb needs to be changed

2. One to attack the patriotism of anyone who says the light bulb needs to be changed.

3. One to blame Clinton for burning out the light bulb.

4. One to tell the nations of the world that they are either for changing the light bulb or for darkness.

5. One to give a billion dollar no-bid/cost-plus contract to Halliburton for the new light bulb.

6. One to arrange a photograph of Bush, dressed as a janitor, standing on a stepladder under the
banner: "Light Bulb Change Accomplished."

7. One administration insider to resign and write a book documenting in detail how Bush was literally in the dark.

8. One to viciously smear #7.

9. One surrogate to campaign on TV and at rallies on how George Bush has had a strong light bulb changing policy all along.

10. Finally, Joe Lieberman to confuse Americans about the difference between screwing the light bulb and screwing the country.

I'm driving up to Montreal on Sunday to spend three days up there training a new customer. I just got off the phone with another customer in San Diego and I mentioned this to him while bs-ing and he says he has a good friend up there that is a belly dancer. Her name is Aziza and to google her and I would find her quickly. Sho'nuff there she is:



Become the Music

I guess I could go see Aziza, but I'm not really into belly dancing. It doesn't do anything for me, frankly. I am sure she is quite good. Do people really like belly dancing? I'm sure someone must. Just like someone must like mimes or they would all be dead of starvation.

Just got back from a Roger Waters concert. It was unbefuckingleivable. His 'old' songs about war seem eerily timely. The following new one got the longest ovation. His older 'Bring the Boys Back Home' at double-length got the loudest.

Leaving Beirut was about his times travelling as a teenager. (Italics are lyrics, regular text was shown on video background as words in a black and white comic strip. Bolds are mine)

Leaving Beirut

So we left Beirut Willa and I
He headed East to Baghdad and the rest of it
I set out North
I walked the five or six miles to the last of the street lamps
And hunkered in the curb side dusk
Holding out my thumb
In no great hope at the ramshackle procession of home bound traffic
Success!
An ancient Mercedes 'dolmus '
The ubiquitous, Arab, shared taxi drew up
I turned out my pockets and shrugged at the driver
" J'ai pas de l'argent "
" Venez! " A soft voice from the back seat
The driver lent wearily across and pushed open the back door
I stooped to look inside at the two men there
One besuited, bespectacled, moustached, irritated, distant, late
The other, the one who had spoken,
Frail, fifty five-ish, bald, sallow, in a short sleeved pale blue cotton shirt
With one biro in the breast pocket
A clerk maybe, slightly sunken in the seat
"Venez!" He said again, and smiled
"Mais j'ai pas de l'argent"
"Oui, Oui, d'accord, Venez!"
______________________

Are these the people that we should bomb
Are we so sure they mean us harm
Is this our pleasure, punishment or crime
Is this a mountain that we really want to climb
The road is hard, hard and long
Put down that two by four
This man would never turn you from his door
Oh George! Oh George!
That Texas education must have fucked you up when you were very small
______________________

He beckoned with a small arthritic motion of his hand
Fingers together like a child waving goodbye
The driver put my old Hofner guitar in the boot with my rucksack
And off we went
" Vous etes Francais, monsieur? "
" Non, Anglais "
" Ah! Anglais "
" Est-ce que vous parlais Anglais, Monsieur? "
"Non, je regrette"
And so on
In small talk between strangers, his French alien but correct
Mine halting but eager to please
A lift, after all, is a lift
Late moustache left us brusquely
And some miles later the dolmus slowed at a crossroads lit by a single lightbulb
Swung through a U-turn and stopped in a cloud of dust
I opened the door and got out
But my benefactor made no move to follow
The driver dumped my guitar and rucksack at my feet
And waving away my thanks returned to the boot
Only to reappear with a pair of alloy crutches
Which he leaned against the rear wing of the Mercedes.
He reached into the car and lifted my companion out
Only one leg, the second trouser leg neatly pinned beneath a vacant hip
" Monsieur, si vous voulez, ca sera un honneur pour nous
Si vous venez avec moi a la maison pour manger avec ma femme "
______________________

When I was 17 my mother, bless her heart, fulfilled my summer dream
She handed me the keys to the car
We motored down to Paris, fuelled with Dexedrine and booze
Got bust in Antibes by the cops
And fleeced in Naples by the wops
But everyone was kind to us, we were the English dudes
Our dads had helped them win the war
When we all knew what we were fighting for
But now an Englishman abroad is just a US stooge
The bulldog is a poodle snapping round the scoundrel's last refuge
______________________

"Ma femme", thank God! Monopod but not queer
The taxi drove off leaving us in the dim light of the swinging bulb
No building in sight
What the hell
"Merci monsieur"
"Bon, Venez!"
His faced creased in pleasure, he set off in front of me
Swinging his leg between the crutches with agonising care
Up the dusty side road into the darkness
After half an hour we'd gone maybe half a mile
When on the right I made out the low profile of a building
He called out in Arabic to announce our arrival
And after some scuffling inside a lamp was lit
And the changing angle of light in the wide crack under the door
Signalled the approach of someone within
The door creaked open and there, holding a biblical looking oil lamp
Stood a squat, moustached woman, stooped smiling up at us
She stood aside to let us in and as she turned
I saw the reason for her stoop
She carried on her back a shocking hump
I nodded and smiled back at her in greeting, fighting for control
The gentleness between the one-legged man and his monstrous wife
Almost too much for me
______________________

Is gentleness too much for us
Should gentleness be filed along with empathy
We feel for someone else's child
Every time a smart bomb does its sums and gets it wrong
Someone else's child dies and equities in defence rise
America, America, please hear us when we call
You got hip-hop, be-bop, hustle and bustle
You got Atticus Finch
You got Jane Russell
You got freedom of speech
You got great beaches, wildernesses and malls
Don't let the might, the Christian right, fuck it all up
For you and the rest of the world
______________________

They talked excitedly
She went to take his crutches in routine of care
He chiding, gestured
We have a guest
She embarrassed by her faux pas
Took my things and laid them gently in the corner
"Du the?"
We sat on meagre cushions in one corner of the single room
The floor was earth packed hard and by one wall a raised platform
Some six foot by four covered by a simple sheet, the bed
The hunchback busied herself with small copper pots over an open hearth
And brought us tea, hot and sweet
And so to dinner
Flat, unleavened bread, + thin
Cooked in an iron skillet over the open hearth
Then folded and dipped into the soft insides of female sea urchins
My hostess did not eat, I ate her dinner
She would hear of nothing else, I was their guest
And then she retired behind a curtain
And left the men to sit drinking thimbles full of Arak
Carefully poured from a small bottle with a faded label
Soon she reappeared, radiant
Carrying in her arms their pride and joy, their child.
I'd never seen a squint like that
So severe that as one eye looked out the other disappeared behind its nose

______________________

Not in my name, Tony, you great war leader you
Terror is still terror, whosoever gets to frame the rules
History's not written by the vanquished or the damned
Now we are Genghis Khan, Lucretia Borghia, Son of Sam
In 1961 they took this child into their home
I wonder what became of them
In the cauldron that was Lebanon
If I could find them now, could I make amends?
How does the story end?
______________________

And so to bed, me that is, not them
Of course they slept on the floor behind a curtain
Whilst I lay awake all night on their earthen bed
Then came the dawn and then their quiet stirrings
Careful not to wake the guest
I yawned in great pretence
And took the proffered bowl of water heated up and washed
And sipped my coffee in its tiny cup
And then with much "merci-ing" and bowing and shaking of hands
We left the woman to her chores
And we men made our way back to the crossroads
The painful slowness of our progress accentuated by the brilliant morning light
The dolmus duly reappeared
My host gave me one crutch and leaning on the other
Shook my hand and smiled
"Merci, monsieur," I said
" De rien "
" And merci a votre femme, elle est tres gentille "
Giving up his other crutch
He allowed himself to be folded into the back seat again
"Bon voyage, monsieur," he said
And half bowed as the taxi headed south towards the city
I turned North, my guitar over my shoulder
And the first hot gust of wind
Quickly dried the salt tears from my young cheeks.

Or so it is claimed.

Creepy.

Finally got the right combination of weekend/snow cover/fire dept guy/help to burn three of our 18 or so brush piles. Each one was about 20 long x 8 wide x 5 feet high

Fire One



Fire Two



Smolder Three - This one never really got going



If that's all I get to burn this year, its okay but I'd like to get a coupla more burned down

From yesterday's local rag - A letter to the Editor froma local reader:

We goofed again!

We never should have hanged President Saddam Hussein. Now we are in trouble with God. We broke the First Commandment. It's time to start reading the Bible and Mrs. Eddy's addition to the Bible, "Science and Health with Key to the Scriptures."

We are not thinking in logic. If you read both testaments of the Bible along with Mrs. Eddy's book, you'll see. The children of God are the Jewish people. They have been to hell and back. Israel is a very important place in the Mideast. Lebanon also is very important. In fact, the whole of Mideastern countries are important. We must say to ourselves "I will not kill today" ("Star Trek").

First: We must fear God. Second: We must choose the correct action. Third: We must believe that God is omnipotent, omniscience, omnipresence. That God is everywhere. That God is all-in-all. That God knows your thoughts even before you think them. That God does not punish sinners. He is not the author of trouble. He wants each person to choose the right path of his/her life here on Earth. Love thy neighbor as thyself. Please turn to your Bible and begin to understand the Mideast.

I'm a schizophrenic and diabetic. I'm also partly deaf, have bad knees and a lazy left eye. And I'm trying to heal myself -- through logic! Use your logical thinking and please sponsor a child.

It's NEVER good to quote Star Trek when you are trying to make a point...

So I've got this neighbor - Dave - that lives four houses down and around the corner. Things are spread out a bit so he is about a quarter mile away door-to-door. You would think we wouldn't run into each other much, but you would be wrong.

He lurks. Or at least it seems that way. We can't leave our driveway without seeing him somewhere on the street, trying to flag us down. Same thing when heading home. Some examples:

1. He dropped off two jars of homemade pickles at 7:15 in the morning last month, on a workday. In the MORNING. Then when I drive out of the driveway, he flags me down and says "Art, I dropped off some jars of pickles this morning and knocked on your door but no one answered" (!). I said "yeah Annie is away and I was probably in the shower" His polish accent probably makes him sound more accusatory than he means to be, but there is always that earnestness in his voice.

- Who knocks on a door that early and expects to be answered? And then who is surprised that no one answered?!

2. Last weekend Annie and I went for a walk Sunday afternoon before I left for Vegas. I said to her "I bet Dave is waiting for us". We get about a hundred feet out of the driveway and he is walking towards us with his dog. We stop and chat along with another neighbor and then I say "Annie we have to get going, I need to leave for the airport at 3:30". They acknowledge and we say our goodbyes and continue our loop walk. when we get around to heading back, here comes Dave with his dog trying to catch up with us - I say to her - let's keep going. Five seconds later from behind us "Hey you guys are walking fast!". Without turning around I say "I've got to get to the airport to get to Vegas" with an little edge in my voice. Then I look back at him to avoid coming across as too much of a dick. He still follows for a bit then turns around, saying he will see us when I get back.

Earlier that same morning at 7:25 AM I drove heading to church and there he was trying to flag me down.

He is a nice, smart retired guy (65ish?), married, who apparently likes being social and he has chosen us to be social with. But we just ain't feeling it. What's more is he seems to be upset that he can't catch up with us more. This summer he said pointedly that he never sees us. Sorry dude, but we are pretty busy. We are not going to feel bad about that.

There are many other encounters, it's become something of a joke. I wonder if he has cameras in the woods to see if we are on the move?

How are your neighbors?

One for the House, One for the Senate

Should have bet one for the gov'nas too..

We went hiking in New Hampshire's White Mountains a few weeks ago and here are some foliage pics for all you flatlanders. More in flickr



We hiked in about four miles to the Appalachian Mountain Club's Carter Notch Hut where we had a reservation. The elevation of the hut is 3288 feet, which was high enough that a lot of leaves were off the trees but one the way up and down they were pretty intense. The AMC has eight of these huts, the others shut down this time of year but two are open year round. This is one of the two bunkhouses. Unheated and we had a snoring but pleasant oriental couple sharing the other two bunks.



This one is caretaker run which means you haul up your food, they supply the cook stove, pots and pans and shelter. Electricity in the hut itself is solar (lights out at 9:30), stove is gas (helicoptered in once a year) and the privy is self composting. Most people ate freeze-dried dinners. We hauled up rice, chicken, sausage, water chestnuts, bean sprouts, soy sauce swiped from a salad bar and white wine. People were jealous, except for two other couple that also brought up wine.



It was a good social crew of visitors that night including a dozen kids in a Boston Big Brothers program and all kinds of people from all over.



We hiked to the top of Wildcat A at 4422' on the way out. NH has forty-eight 4000-footers and this was my 34th completed. We used to hike a lot and I got a lot pretty quick but our attention turned to mountain biking and canoeing and other stuff and I am now just getting back to knocking off the rest of these. I hope I can pick these others off in the next three years, but who knows. I'd like to hike this winter and stay here.

The Cajuns are strange people, a blend of Portuguese, Indian and heaven only knows what else. They fish, shrimp, trap fur in the maze of bayous and marshes of the big Delta. Priests wade into the water and bless their shrimp boats at start of season. They know how to cook turtles. Our only recommended addition is a small can of chopped button mushrooms.

Trim 2 lbs turtle steak into 1 1/2" squares, season well with salt and hand ground black pepper, squeeze on some lemon or sour orange juice and stand a while. Add plenty of chopped onion, a sweet pepper chopped well, 3 or 4 tomatoes cut into eights, 3 bayleaves, a crushed garlic clove, and mushrooms... Moisten well with stock made by boiling salted turtle trimmings, and smother very slowly in tightly covered skillet until turtle is tender. Serve with big mounds of rice.

This will noursh 4 hungry folk

- Charles N. Baker Jr. - The Gentlemen's Companion Vol. 1: Exotic Cookery Book, 1946

I found the above in one of two volumes I bought at a yard sale two weeks ago. The second volume is: The Gentlemen's Companion Vol. 2: Exotic Drink Book. The titles intrigued me, myself being a Gentleman and all. This guy wrote them on the eve of WWII after traveling the world for a food and travel magazine. The recipes are amazing and very different. The most amazing thing, though is what these two books are worth, apparently. We packed a box of twenty books for $2.

I think I'll go back this weekend and buy the rest.

Even to Maine they know him.

I'd like to tell you a hottie was driving this car, but she weren't

Some of the Altamont people came and stayed at Eliza's house.
Something of the old thrill of youth touched him. He had never forgotten Lyda's playful cruelty the first night.
Just what was to be achieved she did not know. Well, he began, I reckon you know what you're doing.
He grew violently sick, vomited, and was unable to eat for sometime.
Eliza sat heavily on a chair, her face bent sideways on her rested hand.
He said he ate a pear at the Fair grounds, Eliza repeated the story for the hundredth time.
Steve hummed a monotonous, suggestive tune, and writhed sensually.
After his punctual morning tirade at Eliza, he went about the rousing of the slumbering children.
Steve sneaked in and out of the house, eating his meals alone for several days.
He said he ate a pear at the Fair grounds, Eliza repeated the story for the hundredth time.
Once, with a crony, Gus Moody, son of a foundry-man, he had gone off to see the world.
Steve hummed a monotonous, suggestive tune, and writhed sensually.
At every station Gant and Eliza made restless expeditions to the baggage-car.
O lost, and by the wind grieved, ghost, come back again. He was the Altamont sheriff; he lived at the foot of the hill below Gant.
The children, staring, but relieved, settled slowly back in their places.
Hes got the respect of all the big men in this town, all right, all right!
Hello, son, said Gant, casually entering the room; his heart shrivelled as he saw the boy.
Hes got the respect of all the big men in this town, all right, all right!
Once, when Eugene was past two, Eliza had gone to Piedmont as witness in a trial. After his punctual morning tirade at Eliza, he went about the rousing of the slumbering children. Eliza sometimes allowed them to take him on excursions.
The earth was spermy for him like a big woman. Could you have depended on your worthless oldfather, Tom Pentland, to give you one?
Yes, it does look pretty bad, she would remark.
He lay upon one luxuriously, breathing the hot mattress, and drawing his small legs up lazily. And knowing this, something in each of them turned away in grievous shame.
Gant leaned his face in his powerful hands.
And knowing this, something in each of them turned away in grievous shame. I've had enough of your goings-on for one night.
Gant read them to him indefatigably: in six weeks he knew them all by memory.
Gant leaned his face in his powerful hands.
He said he ate a pear at the Fair grounds, Eliza repeated the story for the hundredth time.

I kinda like it

A letter to the editor from today's local rag:

To the editor:

To all the people who think we are causing global warming with our cars, get a clue.

I just read the article about Gore's movie coming to theaters amid the golf ball-sized hail. To think that our little cars are doing what those like Al Gore say they are doing is ignorant. Can someone please explain to me the Grand Canyon and all of the other places on earth that were formed by water. Yes, that's right folks, a long time ago when there were no cars around, obviously, the earth was under water. And guess why it was. Atheists, please take a deep breath and calm yourself before reading the next sentence). It was God.

It still is God. He is in complete control of this earth right now and no matter what we do or what we say about global warming, nothing will ever change that.

This world's judgment is coming and my advice is that people need to start acknowledging God and believing that Jesus is coming back. Golf ball-sized hail is nothing compared to what the people living during that time will be experiencing. Now, I am going to go for a drive and kill the earth with my car.

Ryan M.
Somersworth NH