Tomorrow's come a long long way to help you.

It's your Saving Grace. Steve Miller March 1970
What a line, what a grace. I have been feeling the weight of the world, and I had almost been defeated, but for a lass that gives me a kick in the pants, and then a Mothers healing kisses, and a lovers defiant allegiance.
Even though I have gained little purchase in my quicksand economic state I have been a graced with a lift of heart that gives me the ability to live beneath the deepest rubble.
She loves me still.

On the greener colorlined way.

On the other hand.
We just saw things, hoping others would see something neat too.

Sometimes I feel like a motherless child.

Sometimes I feel as though I have led a most insipid and destructive life. At my age I had wished like my friends to have gained something on my own. But as situations would have it I only occupy the place I once thought mine to have and hold close. I need honest brutal assessments that I may make this last operative ten years something I might look back upon as a time better spent, better taken advantage of. I think. But I mostly think of me. I have to crush my heart to restart by admitting to those I have forgotten that I have truly not. I am just self absorbed and so isolated that no one comes to shake me loose. I am draining away like this. So the infection must be absorbed and the healing exposed. or I loose for the last time.
this was to be a blog exposing other injustices destructive to my existence not my own self inflicted disgraces..Just dump ones self out there and watch the crew flew. No one digs this shit but the shit digger. He's just stuck in it, z'all

Money can bye me love.

Money is the root of all evil? Root as in Ginseng root, or Ginger root? Like a flavor or an aphrodisiac or a narcotic, it has both psychological and physiological influences that have embossing effects on the one in possession. Like heroin and speed in the same highball it can take a diminutive, non compelling, tragic figure and make changes the likes of which a heroin addict would be envious. It can give every situation a knew rush of conciseness. I know this because I have first hand knowledge. Poor is tragic, flush is a rush.............and you don't even have to inject it.

But like junk, the longer one has it, the more one is anesthetized to it, it becomes a way of being. Then you don't notice those around you that are without and suffering their situation. And if you do it is only the reflection of the pitiful personal self you want to forget, to be looked away from. Money and friends, what a strange pair, they should ignore each other and help the needy, like me. I know I don't make sense when I write. But who cares anyway?

First assholes, then idiots, then me.

I'd like to take a three lane highway and cram it up the ass of every one that has no idea how to drive on one. That goes for two lane ones too. There are only personalities, expressing themselves on the road. there are no law biders, no folks that use logic, just a bunch of rabid personalities showing their worst ass. Three lanes of idiots.
The right lane is my friend. It has all the attributes I look for in a lane. It has a view to the right, what other lane has that? Really, it is the lane with a view, and if you take advantage of that when the traffic is light, and there is a friend in the car, you can get a word in while looking that way.
Personally I hate folks that look at me while they are in the drivers seat, talk and look ahead, not at my head. But I digress.
The fact is you get no view in the left hand lane unless it's on coming traffic that you dig fixing on. and the center lane that gets the most occupants is shit for views, all you get is the ass end of the ones ahead and the ones that are passing on the left, and me, that guy passing on the right. Oh I love you right lane.
It's my lane. I go places in it when there is the population of Texas in the middle one and Alaska in the left. to be continued: And that snake....... he is still living, he was on a private road and I just shot him with the camera.

Sha boob ee .....shaboopee

YarrrrrrrrrgggHH!!!

I have carved the deepest lines into the Rosetta stone of my life. Life has given me many tools with which to order reality. I have developed within me natural understandings of simple systems and how to apply them to more complex episodes.

these lines appear to look as haphazard as my attempts at cartooning or gesture drawing. My art is my eye. My hands understand techniques. I am ridiculously adept at replication. I draw with an excellent hand when showing complex structures. I can analyze technique and repeat it. Yet I am impossibly inept at drawing your picture, without taking way too much time for a real artist. As far as most other" artists" go I am not one of them by their standards, but theirs is not my impetus one way or the other. I respect certain of artists and theirs is the only respect I appreciate and when working cultivate.

The culture as it is is defeated in it's superfluous frolic. Fucking nuts.

The storm of political correctness is so overwhelming, so methodical. Each new law that results from thin skin, and fear makes this extraordinary period of man refusing his built in intuition, in favor of laws that tell us we can't call a spade a spade,or an asshole an asshole,without reprisal that comes from without the situation, rather than from within.

Your ass is grass!!

That's Bullshit!!!!!!!!!!!

Consciousness is legislated and That alone should be sufficient to start the revolution. It's not enough that all the mystical ingredients of elevated states of mind are outlawed, our access to knowledge and happenings of importance are indelibly stained, fractiously deformed, and drained of any truth, by the Magical Mystery Media Diabolic. There is only truth to the lie. The lie is a true lie, manufactured and performed by puppets that are so high up, that we have no thought of possible deceit or deception emanating from them. Instead we eat their deftly concocted stew as if it were a the only fare possible. We devour it and make our lives run parallel to it crossing it if possible and be a visible result of it, the big lie. This is not the only reality available to us. And we can change this reality dramatically if we change ourselves.

If ..... some rewired heady Monk on a mountainside in Tibet can mouth at the air while funnel clouds drop half way around the earth..... and if he is aware that he is hooked in..... if you could but fathom the interrelatedness of all things, all energies.....then there might be change.

Plexiglass Painting and Mixed Media Art of Leonard Weinbaum

Plexiglass Painting and Mixed Media Art of Leonard Weinbaum

I've known this man for over 45 years. He is a diligent soul. His paintings push at every artistic boundary. He opens your eyes.

In his own words:

"My fascination with carving the back side of clear plastic, and then painting in reverse, outwards, color by color, layer by layer, has covered 30 years.. There is a violent beauty in tearing into the pristine solitude of clear, thick plexi with industrial saws and grinders, hand chisels, and capturing of a moment in space and time. These sculpted and painted atmospheric environments are 'snapshots' of events preserved deep within crystalline space."

"My pieces cannot be fully appreciated in photographs. One can't feel the depth of carving, how the image changes from different viewing angles, and the effects of raking light from above. Or seeing into the painting from it's polished edges, as well as through the front. My pieces are not intended to be back-lit. Enjoy. "

Apocalypse Island........Impossible?

If you for some horrible reason can't get the history Channel you are probably in the dark when I speak of Apocalypse Island. But if you have a chance you should try to find someone that has a DVD of it. Remarkable, extraordinary, astounding, earthshaking, are the terms that I think when I think of the serendipitous-ness of the electron driven communication that can deliver it to your brainwashing box, TV, and the men who knew it would, some many many hundreds of years ago. This is the only spot on earth where all three great cosmic events of the last year of the Mayan calendar may be witnessed, Venus traversing the face of the sun, a full eclipse of the sun, and the rising of our sun in the central rift of the milky way, on the galaxy disc's edge. Every one of these events may be watched from the same vantage point on Apocalypse Island, atop the head of the son of Paqual's sculpture, 120 ft in the air. Each of these events in that year fall on Mayan holy days that are every twentieth day, much like Sunday is to Christians. The odds that all tree fall on holy days...are 1 in 8000. They knew this. How?

WTF, That's a, snake in the grass.

I can't stand it anymore. I love the country, and for that reason took up residence about 7 miles from the interstate. In the woods of twenty four years ago, there were no rappers just the woodpeckers and Carolina wrens and their community of friends. There were no four lanes within 5 miles either direction. That space has since been paved and the lanes run by less than two hundred yards away. And the rappers are real and dangerous, and the woodpeckers and wrens were going somewhere else. My question to them was; where are you going? You know what? They listened to me and watched my laborious efforts to keep for them and all their community buds, a piece of land, virtually unchanged by anything other than nature itself, and me when driven by necessity to cut or clear, but always with a plan to bring it back better than it was before.

But it doesn't matter what I do. It does, but only in the short term. We are fucked, and no one with a voice to be heard, like that fucking rapper, hip hop ignorant savage, I have to listen to on the weekends, seems to care.

Folks, the Maya knew how screwed we'd be by now. We don't realize the trip we've been on. And it is a heady one. The scientists know and that is one of the reasons this science religion debate continues with a full reactor of steam. Keep everyone occupied and then give them what they need to hear. Maintain the veil. The war-cry, the warcraft of the Illuminati.

Our preoccupation with material acquisitions, stuff, has led to nothing but the need for more material acquisition and has raped our planet, in exchange for Hanna Montana, and Extenze. "They"market to the, hip hop ignorant savage's knowledge that he'll never get enough cool or be big enough.

Americans were once icons of success and incredulity among earth poor and "stuff-less". And now as our culture wavers on implosion from the weight of all the stuff, they want all that shit too. And so "They" put up a parking lot and a Walmart on top, and keep the implosion ball rolling. 2012 won't come soon enough for the poor bastards of the earth, cause they should have more stuff by then. And it can't stay away long enough for me, so I can get ready to bolt with my buds. See, I get it now. Do you?

THE FUTURE IS UNWRITTEN 1 of 11

Expanding Earth

watch

Loose Change Final Cut

...such a fucked up world we have been witnessed too. No wonder they don't care. We are as expendable as our minds have been made to be. Love as eternally sought after, is gone. We are useless as a species. We have stripped the planet in a hundred years.

And this is just way too cool!

Not my words, but say it best:
"This video is a Neal Adams animation about his theory that the Earth is growing. This collides with the Pangea theory. Watch it, you will be amazed. "

Fox News is such a Fucking Farce....

....and is so tremendously far from fair and balanced it could cause a civil war. Not just north south black white, but red blue, Fox and the uneducated, biased, bigoted, racist, negative, trash, they call nothing but the news, and folks like me that won't buy it and never will. No spin my fucking ass, no bias Jesus Christ they reek bias and presumption. More to follow.
The Blue networks aren't angelic, but Fox News is a farce.

GATORS 911 TRUTH: The Obama Deception - Agent of the NWO

GATORS 911 TRUTH: The Obama Deception - Agent of the NWO

You say, "Flow with it."

I have a girlfriend that can't keep her mouth shut. I have a world outside my door that can't keep it's mouth shut either. Neither seems to be able to answer the simple questions I place before them, but would rather ramble on about some err to fore remote corner of the question and it's implications to their perceived self importance. The result is frustration on both ends.
We as a conversing culture no longer emphasize the fluidity and the accelerated, amplified positions of possibility that become available to those that will allow it to occur, in their conversations. There is no following or leading there is only the flow and our place within it.
Ask a musician if there would be any music if the communication carried on between those in the band was arranged as we arrange the mountain of self importance we place before the flow most of the time our mouths are open.
Being aware that the music of our lives is tragically mistreated as we carry out our days, is not enough for us to splendor a greater sound.
Worst of all I know some old hippies that like rap.
Crap!

You say, "Flow with it." Around the mountain.
How droll.
While I feel the need to surge.

Walt Disney, Hanna Montana? Negatory chief.

It never happened. I mean really, Disney would dash the earth clean beneath the ever spreading tracks of a Mickey Mouse corporation dedicated to the moral, ethical, and intellectual depredation of innocence, exhibited by the bottom dwelling youth antics of any daytime Disney Channel produced exploitation of preteen and early teen youth in bud.
The fucking vain ignorance, no, stupidity of the no doubt gender challenged inadequates that air it, is overwhelmingly apparent. What passes for entertainment is kid stifling propaganda. Inadequates are limpwristed (thanks Greaseman), self absorbed, overpaid, tasteless, cynical, thong wearing, (had so many wedgies they got turned on by it), fagots.

Believe me, I was part of the industry then, the infiltration beginning in the early eighties of the fudge packers was coup. Disney would have detonated the place before the parade of face painted, puffy nippled, downy haired, freshly pantied and dressed to fantasize over, soft wonder children of the afternoon. Were I a predator I would be glued to it. Were I the CEO of Disney I would eliminate it, all of it. Take it out of the peripheral view of children so they won't be lured by the packaging of adulthood in kids sizes. Goddamn it you fucking assholes, let them be kids.

You starting to freak yet? I am freaking .. a bit...

I read a lot of shit on the web and the more I do the more freaky this whole " American" situation becomes. We are dead and we don't know it yet. We have taken the fatal slice to the guts and they are laying on the ground while we remain hypnotized, unaware of the violation.

Billions to banks to help the struggling American on the street? Nobody saw the problem of giving more money to the most greedy heartless bastards on the planet, next to televangelists. And where is Obama on this? What has been his response? He has surround himself with more of the same privileged money mongering minds that created this mess.
I'm sure that most of the people today that might happen upon this mans rant, will never get the chance to understand the jeopardy they are in until they bleed out on their feet. Where are the riots, cause there are sure to be peanut butter, if not bread lines very soon.

When Bush finally says we are in a recession you can be sure that we are ankle deep in a depression and the tide is rising. What is the fucking common man to do? Probably just kiss his sweet ass goodbye and hope for an injunction for stupidity in his next reincarnation.

Had we any guts left we would be rioting against the administration that is giving our billions to millionaires, and fat cats. I'm scared. There are jails in the desert if we descent too vividly. The rest of the world won't come to our rescue, or give a shit about yours and my demise.We've had them under foot for so long when they realize this is there chance to rise above an american planned world there will be no looking back until the scales are even. Our screams, when we realize we are the gutted lambs will not reach there conscience, will not summon legions to our aid, will not bring compassion for a society taught to live beyond there means for as long as this one remembers.
It seems as though our whole American standard of living, has been a ruse to get us to extend ourselves far beyond our means. And the claim that American workers are the best in the world has only served to make us the most complacent. We are not the best workers in the world or all our work on making automobiles would not result in the worlds most inefficient and problem riddled product. Drunks that don't sober up until noon build our houses and our infrastructure.

And all during this free fall the powerful and insulated have padded themselves filling their coffers with first our extravagances and now our bailouts. Power has been removed far away from our touch, and so we are about to be pushed along by the tide, or sucked into the slipstream of their destinies, the rich and the powerful. Get the picture. We are expendable.

There are still too many smart ones though. You and me. I am worried about what they will do with us when we find one another and try to live the way our forefathers foresaw, when we are backed against the wall, given our options and forced to either surrender our will, or perhaps our lives in defense of it.

The spider picture? Beats me. Just a photo taken a couple of days ago, added for interest.

Time to loose a Game

Nothing worse for a team than to win over and over again. Loosing makes the game. It makes whatever you are winning real. It makes winning real. It gives winning all the qualities that one must rise to. It gives it dimension. Without experiencing a loss one can never feel the reason for winning. One just wins again and over again. When this happens it is because the winner is over matched to his opponent. He wins whether he plays the game well or not. He wins because his overwhelming prowess doesn't need the game to win. He defies odds while staying within the rules. Barely. He plows straight ahead and overpowers his opposition. Without an occasional loss a team looses its passion and spark, and the unwordable qualities that make a real winner extraordinary and worthy of respect.
Remind you of anyone?
Your favorite team? The team you hate maybe?
Your wife when she's always right?
Your country?
I mean America?
Your Flag-Waving President. The Texas ball buster?
Fuck!!!
Regroup here.
I'm a Florida Gator, part of the Gator Nation by graduation. The Gator football team has a history since 1980 unlike any other school. Drama tragedy heroics and dismal failures have painted this team in a way story book tales are told.
They are the only ones that do not belong on the list.
Go Gators!
Go Obama!