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Monday, February 28, 2011

Fw: Senate Bill 3 et al

Sent: Friday, February 25, 2011 4:06 PM
Subject: Senate Bill 3 et al

Dear Senator Mike Parsons,
Todays Cole Camp Courier had your report on government business.
The issue of photo id for voter registeration is probably reasonable, except there are people who could if they wanted to, create a government document that would be accepted.
The issue is who and how this measure shall be funded.
How is a lessable individual who does not drive and can not afford medical care, going to afford the RIGHT to vote
Before you vote for this issue please consider the rights of Americans before you consider protecting the right to vote.
We are increasingly becoming a police state run by fear, and the fear is the enemy that will destroy us.
Please think carefully about the freedoms we have given up already and the changes you are about to make.
If we are a country strong in our support of our laws, and our laws support its citizens we are safe.
If we fear our neighbor, we will lock our doors and live in a prison of our own making.
I would rather live in a free America and let the whole world learn from a free society rather than give up any rights I have.
Choosing who will represent me in my government is something I do and reinforces my Americanism with all my neighbors every election.
If you close all the doors, if you lock all the doors, no one can enter nor leave, danger from an enemy we can handle as a nation, danger from a friend we can handle too, trampling on our rights we can not and will not accept. THAT is what it is to be an American.
It really bothers me that your article states that we should get in touch with your office instead of stating that we may contact YOU. And you do not include a phone number nor an email address neither a post office address.

Fw: incorporation

Subject: incorporation

A safe moment in time.
Where have you been.
Reality is subjective.
an empty train
Let me entertain you...
the locked door
the closed mind
wash face
lock door
remember, to be free
[demand your rights]
soft fingers
new suit
corn on the cob
the man with no voice
an ill wind
Yes, of course
rocks, sand
hidden corridor
a broken chair
Crazy, man
the same words
specs of skin
reality is objective
is it real
was it real
was it a dream

Wednesday, February 16, 2011


When you finish praying you say Amen
Why didn't you say Awomen
for that matter why are they wo-men

and then there is fe-male
lady on the other hand does not depend
on the male of the species for identification

quoting the dictionary
[ origin Old English hlafdige
from hlaf LOAF noun + Germanic base meaning 'knead'.
Cf. DEY noun, DOUGH noun]

From Wo-men to Fe-male
to knead dough

That must have been in the days when humans did not
have a language
when grunts and groans communicated

and we have continued to use the same label
or should we say the men used the label to segregate the Wo-men
from the men

Smarter males inhereted codes
Darling [from DEAR and LING-Any of various marine food fishes
resembling cod]

Personally Wo- men is very good
outside a restroom it is important to signify
Wo- men
when men ruled it was to signify a place where they chose not to enter
and it stuck

sounds a little like the origins of segregation
boy on one side of the room
girls on the other side of the room

Many cultures find it appropriate to segregate the sexes
most of the time
except for the purpose of increasing the population
to provide for security?

The mythical? Amazon women eliminated their men
when they served their purpose of repopulating the women
where they called wo-men too.

It simply appears that whomever is in charge and making the rules
makes the titles
whatever they want them to be
and many of us accept without question
the way things are

the new generation
the hi-tech info age
may also go so fast
that we neither see nor care nor question
and we get to continue
to let things stay the same. Amen, Awo-men.


Self pity
self doubt
self loathing
self worth

all by the self
with nothing better to do

the mind is looking
the mind is learning
the mind is finding
a way to a place
nestled in the back of time
close to the truth
the warm truth of self
the home of the heart
the place called safe

youth must search
sift through the data
sort the trash
save the silk
give meaning, give life
give home to the heart
give instead of remove
give instead of take

the right formula
the right stuff
the right place
the right turn
the right time
the right choice

the mind does it
without the self
sit back and watch
let there be light
and pass through the night

fear less
fear some
fear none
fear one
fear not
you have come this far
you will go further
you will go to the end

worry not
worry wart
worry some
worry worry worry
wasted word worry
wasted time worry
waste it not

what is left
the journey
to places unwanted
to places unwelcome
to places of peace
to places of contentment
to places
to visit
to linger
to dawdle
to see
to stare
to be with
to be there
to be here
to begun

Monday, February 14, 2011

requiem - a love story

It's February 1984, time for her to go back to work. The firm that she freelances for is putting her in charge as supervisor of the team that will head the last face to face shareholder counter for American Telephone and Telegraph Company, Ma Bell. The government has ordered the break up of the company and she and the team would assist stockholders in filling out the forms for their choices of which of the new companies they would want to own.

A counter was built in the lobby of the AT&T building on Broadway, in downtown New York City's financial district, the marble columns and marble flooring adding to the cold winter chill that entered the lobby everytime someone opened the door. It was a fitting requiem, cold and sombre, Ma Bell was dead and all the mourners would flock to the funeral.

"Perfect", she thought, she had just spent the last two months at home crying, mourning the loss of her love of seven years, his death although not unexpected, was a blow, they were soul mates, sympatico, partners, mates, friends. The eighteen year age difference surprised them and disappeared the moment they met.

And here she was still grieving but she had to work, the little money she had saved was gone.

The shareholders were arriving, with their sad forlorn faces, older seniors who had owned the company since their youth. They did not understand what was happening, they did not want to let go of their AT&T stock, they did not know how to choose. They did not want to get mail from all the new companies, they only wanted one.

There was snow outside and wind, it is always windy downtown near the water, the wind will bring another chill into the lobby, heaters are brought and placed around the counters, the team is supposed to remove their coats but it is so cold, some of the women even want to keep their gloves on.

There is a man pacing, a distance away from the counter, her keeps walking back and forth. The team notices him, he is wearing a cowboy hat and boots with a suede leather jacket with fringe on the sleeves. Finally he approaches the counter in front of one of the women, a sweet young red head. She reminds him of his girlfriend, who was a telephone operator who had died before they were married, he gave the redhead a small bottle of perfume, she helped him fill out the papers to make the changes to the stock he owned.

Couples came together, husbands and wives holding hands, confused and forlorn. Rich people walked in and over to the counter, wealthy people, average people, short people. There was even a man who had a folder filled with cancelled certificates of AT& T stock which was strange, those certificated should have been destroyed when they were cancelled, security was called and the man with the cancelled certificates was escorted away to speak with someone about how he came to have the cancelled certificates.

A rather tall slim gentleman in a suit walked to the window in front of the supervisor. His light grey eyes looked into her sad brown eyes. " I was in Buchenwald, the concentration camp", he said, "there were ten thousand people there. And from those ten thousand people, they chose two hundred, and from those two hundred they chose twenty people, and I was one of the twenty." She understood, he was mourning nine thousand nine hundred eighty people and he too came to the funeral of Ma Bell and had presented the supervisor with a gift. This man for more than forty years, one of the 'lucky ones' to have survived Buchenwald and he was here today giving her a gift. He didn't say anything else. He left her to her thoughts. 

Sunday, February 13, 2011

A foreign exchange student...

...came to America and was staying with a cruel person who locked the kitchen cabinets and refrigerator so the student could not even get a snack.

Lucky? for the student, the supervisor of the exchange program was attentive to the childs unhappiness and took the student away from the cruel host home.

The exchange program supervisor, a mother and grandmother, worked at a variety of jobs to support herself and family. Besides waiting tables at a local restaurant she also other peoples homes.

One day she, the exchange program supervisor, went to clean the home of a retired couple in a town not too far from where she lived. She brought along with her the foreign exchange student.

The retired couple were very pleased to have company especially an young international visitor. He, a WWII veteran, was stationed for a time in Paris and enjoyed the opportunity to practice the little bit of French he remembered. She loved grandmothering the foreign exchange student. The visit was very comfortable for all of them, and the foreign exchange student was made to feel comfortable in America.

Afterwards, the foreigh exchange student when communicating with her family in France, told her grandmother how nice the retired couple had been. The child was made so comfortable that the grandmother was very pleased and decided to write to the retired couple to thank them for the kindness they had shown to the grandchild.

The retired couple and the grandparents in France soon became pen pals sharing their lives and the lives of their children and grandchildren. Over the years many letters were mailed between countries and there was a bond that reached across the ocean.

The foreign exchange student grew up, became a professional, got married and had children and all the progress was shared with the retired couple.

First the WWII veteran, then his wife passed on, and their children continued the bond and communication across the ocean. Email took the place of the post office and instead of the retired woman who learned French, the grandmother is honing her english to keep in touch, all because somebody locked the kitchen cabinet and refrigerator and a bunch of people agreed that it was a very unkind thing to do. We hope it wasn't you. 


Rollo May's 'The Meaning of Anxiety' is a  four hundred forty-eight page(paperback edition) analysis of the cycle of anxiety, describing in detail the feelings one goes through as one journeys through anxiety. It is a very painful experience which is drawn out depending upon how much free time you have to read through the whole book. If you work for a living then reading through the book and absorbing all the information is drawn out slowly and the experience of anxiety lingers. It is not an easy read if you want to understand the dimensions, there must be time afforded for the mind to absorb the information so the psyche can assimilate the data presented.

Everyone who wants to avoid the lingering effects of anxiety would benefit from Mr May's exhaustive work, reading about anxiety is a far better experience than living through it without some background information to ease the pain. "A month reading about hell is far better than living there."

On the other hand, Mel Brooks' movie 'High Anxiety' takes one through the same territory from the vantage point of laughter. Mr Brooks teaches the terror of anxiety in such a manner to have the student crying with tears of laughter. He takes you to the exact same place as Mr May but from a different point of view. Granted Mr Brooks' treatment of anxiety is a bit more simplistic than Mr May but he gets the point across.

Consider life, on the one hand you can take it all seriously or consider it all from the point of view of laughter, or humor, not that you should be the laughing stock, or be laughed at, but perhaps be laughed with. Nobody gets out of it alive, in the end we all die, and the quality of life is all we get to live. And if we spend our lives miserable, crying over our circumstances it is simply double punishment; having a miserable life, and feeling miserable about it. If you are poor, celebrate that you have your health, if you have ill health celebrate you can see, or you can walk, or you can talk. Feeling sorry for yourself is ok for a very short spell, then it is time to get on with living. The poor carry on with their lives, so too do the less able, we especially are grateful or pay attention to those who live with a smile on their face or those who do not drag others down with them. Those who though less fortunate than what we believe to be fortunate, carry themselves with responsibility, they are not victims of their circumstances, they refuse to be victims, they choose to live their lives as BEST as they can, and their best is not feeling sorry for themselves. They seem not to have any anxiety. "They said things could get worse and they did"

We only have, right now, so we might as well make the BEST of, right now. We can not afford to waste this moment, it may be the last one we get. 

Saturday, February 12, 2011

She said:

"I am a  very lazy person; I find the fastest easiest way to get the job done."

the definition of efficient?

Friday, February 11, 2011


Since you were wondering, this blog was opened 11/26/10

There have, to date,  been 702 pageviews from around the world.

United   States          511
France                      151
Singapore                    10
Finland                        10
United Kingdom           4
Croatia                         4
Slovenia                        2
Denmark                       2
Canada                         1
India                             1
South Korea                 1

This is what the blog stats report.
Maybe it is in fact true.

There has been one comment posted to the blog.

The dear letters are read, and the most favorite is the Maxwell House page.

If there are people all around the world reading these pages it is a remarkable thing. And if what is written is enjoyed it is a spectacular feat, which would not have been accomplished without Johann Gutenberg the inventor of the printing press (c 1397-1468). This is the man who made it possible for the masses to become educated. Before he invented the printing press, words were handwritten for a very special few, wealthy powerful group of people. He should be our favorite person. He made it possible for all people to learn. Think about the idea of books being hand written and how few people would be able to learn or read what was written.

In about five hundred years BILLIONS of people have read the printed word and if he did not and no one else had invented the printing press how many people would still have never held a book or discovered the joy of travelling through the pages of fantasy and mystery or science fiction. Five hundred years ago the thought of someone in Missouri writing something that would or could be read the same day by someone in Singapore would have been fantastic imagination, and crazy.

Thank you Johann Gutenberg, because my family was probably not the rich privileged few who got to learn to read or write, and he made it possible for me to learn.

Without the printing press, we would all be working in the fields, most of us for sure.
Happy Reading.


The dentist is someone who cares for the well being of your teeth, repairing a tooth, aligning a bite, fixing a screaming nerve and otherwise generally investigating the health of gums.

These people are in fact persons whom we pay to put their fingers in our mouths.

I personally hate to have someone put their fingers in my mouth, the people who have me stretch the muscles in my jaw till they reach China.

I would rather use an electric toothbrush with awful tasting toothpaste, the stuff that ruins the taste of food, rather than have someone stick their fingers in my mouth.

That includes the instruments they pile in there too, it's like stuffing a trunk and then they wad cotton to make sure nothing rattles around.

Floss is even better than drills, the  sound of fingers scraping on a black board(here is a hint at my age), the shrill that rattles the nerves as they stick their fingers and instruments in my mouth.

Then as I drool like a baby with everything hanging and the muscles going rigid the vacuum cleaner sucks every drop of moisture. It all feels as though the teeth are standing alone, the gums have shrunk and the teeth have grown and the muscles in the mouth and neck are numb, as the eyes are dragged down past the cheeks almost touching the upper lip.

And just as you are on the verge of slipping into twilight sleep you are slapped into reality  when they say 'All done' and expected to to be able to close your mouth swallow rinse spit and say everything is fine and get up and pay them for their fingers playing in your mouth.

Even Listerine is the better alternative.

Wednesday, February 9, 2011


       In the post civil war era in America there was a beginning of unity, or so it seemed, we all were Americans. Then, there were African or Black Americans, segregating or isolating a population by their skin color. It became easy or easier to place or identify individuals and further polarize the people. To further the deviciveness we became IrishAmerican, ItalianAmerican, as well as HispanicAmerican - this title isolated and consolidated every ethnic mixture of Spanish decent. We also have segregated the NativeAmericans and the other European immigrants such RussianAmerican or HungarianAmericans. Even though some of us have been  born on American soil we are first members of the country of our ancestors as in ItalianAmerican. Some of us have been here for genreations and no longer speak or understand the language of our ancestors. And yet we are not considered first as Americans. JapaneseAmerican and ChineseAmericans are also counted as part of the segregated group.

And yet there is one group of American without the label of their ancestors, and this segregation is not questioned or discussed. There is one group among us who has disappeared from the ethnic analysis of the country.

Whether or not they are singled out by their lack of reference as an ethnic group has never been the focus of attention nor has it ever been addressed. They are the behind the scenes Americans, blending into the landscape, disappearing from the vista. They do not exist.

One can suppose that this has been a conspiracy to distract, to preoccupy us with the separation or difference in ethnicity as they carry on quietly, without being noticed, blending into the landscape, disappearing from our consciousness.

So much so that we never refer to them, these are the EnglishAmericans. Do you know any EnglishAmericans, have you ever seen an EnglishAmerican. How come we call no one EnglishAmerican. And we allow ourselves us non EnglishAmericans to celebrate our ethnic roots without celebrating our American roots first .

Why do we, us non EnglishAmericans grasp our isolation and relish in the segregation. Can we be Americans first.

Some of our ancestors helped build the railroads that linked the nation, smelling with the dirt of the earth of American, swallowing the coal from the mines, cementing their lives with the highways and railroads, being buried with the old west and the roaring twenties. They sweat to build this country and make it what it is today and we still do not accept that this is our home. We still live in Africa, Ireland, France, Italy, Germany, China, Russia and so on, except for the EnglishAmericans.

There is a meaning here, there is a purpose in the isolation and segregation, there is a good way to prejudice and subjugate and we accept this as the order of business, like whether or not we are male or female. Although we each are individual we no longer fight for nor long for our independence. Like the arms, and legs and head of the body we are all part of the package each with its own task to perform, each cell part of the whole, separate, independent and united, except for the EnglishAmericans. They stand alone. 

Tuesday, February 8, 2011

The IRS - insult to injury

2010 - The space odyssey, The IRS this year has stopped its annual distribution of forms and instructions for filing taxes. Supposedly they sent us all a postcard informing us, that since the forms were on the internet it was no longer necessary for them, the IRS to send forms and instructions for filing income tax.

Now we are all responsible for finding the information we need and for finding the forms we need to pay taxes.

We are now responsible for either paying taxes on line or downloading the forms necessary and the instructions too.

It isn't bad enough to have to spend hours TRYING to figure out the taxes, we must spend hours trying to find the information and forms, under pain of prosecution(persecution).

This government ASSumes everyone has the knowledge and access to the internet, a computer  and a printer. Does that means we can take the internet connection, computer, printer and paper as a  deduction.

You want something from the government you need to file forms, you need to give something to the government or get back what you ARE entitled to you will have to file a form. Which form you may ask, call the IRS and wait fifteen minutes for someone maybe to answer the question.

It appears that the government is making it difficult for some of the poorer people to participate in the running of the government i.e. paying their share to finance the government.

Every year, it has been the let down after christmas, we receive the forms required to pay caesar his due.
That nightmare is ended, replaced by the quagmire of space and the IRS.

The government has become the quintissential corporation, answering to no one; unreachable.

The time for downsizing is now.
The less we have the less they will take, the less we will have to try to figure out.
How can one prepare for the future without information, the government is eliminating the right people have to have their government inform them. If I do not own a computer, if I do not have access to the internet then I do not have to pay taxes. If I can not afford to access the internet and if I can not afford to own a computer and printer I then do not have to pay taxes?

How dare the government take from the average citizen their right to information. How dare the IRS ASSume we Americans want to access the IRS files to spend hours searching for the information we must need to comply with the law of paying income tax.

Now the government will save millions by not printing the forms and instructions for paying income tax and place the BURDEN upon the people.
If you want to give blood you must provide your own needles!

The taxpayer is overburdened, some have lost their jobs, now besides that they must hunt down the forms they need.
This is now the land of free for all, dog eat dog, the government seems to  be  in a crisis. The government has lost touch with the people, again.
The government seems to be fighting for its right to exist by denying the people, ALL the people their right to the information needed.

This is no longer a government of the people by the people and for the people.
How about those who can not afford a telephone to call the IRS to find out that they did not get the forms and that the postcard telling them that the forms would not be delivered by mail. Yes the IRS can not either afford to use the US Postal Service.

Everyone has been too busy ripping off the system, there is no more system. We are in the same boat as the Egyptians only we don't know it yet, or we won't admit it yet.

Monday, February 7, 2011


the days unfold, one upon another
each glimpse a breath of air
a wisp of hair
a wave of the hand
the fold of the skirt
the tip of the shirt
linger, images lasting
sweet memories
sweet days
sweet scents, refill the air
aromas of the past
the meal shared under a tree
the blade of grass
the minds eye doth see,
the loss no more,
the treasures to be,
that with which our minds eye
is still to be,
as we remember
what was to be,
and is forever
the memory the minds eye doth see.

Saturday, February 5, 2011


The cradle cap of neglect
seethes into a foam

like the virus
like the cold
it feeds and grows
it consumes, then devours
every last flowers
it smothers the air
the rancid odour

the cradle cap of neglect
the curse of the ages
the fault of the many

ignorance no excuse
information abound
we let it happen
we will suffer the consequences
we knew better
we neglected to act

we were warned
we failed to act
the cradle cap of neglect
beware the child of want
charles dickens did say
and also
beware the child of ignorance
we were warned

Friday, February 4, 2011

not winter


pages have been turned
lines read
there is someone out there
following what i have said

more than one
more than two
paying attention to what is said

one persons opinion
followed by more than two
hooray for you

make up a story
tell a tale
wind a yarn build a fabric
weave the imagination
travel to a star
leave the planet
exit the room
visit the cosmos
inside your room

the night sky
the morning sun
wind surf
sea shells

stand in the middle
lie on the floor
follow the stars

sail with the wind
across the sea
alone maybe three
row a boat
walk the sand
it is summertime
the sun bakes the face
wind brushes hair
the smell of the sea
the salt on the nose
the smell of the sea
the aroma of the surf
white washing the sand
the shells underfoot
barefoot in the water
the waves washing the feet
the ocean wide and grand
the place of no land
the scent of the sea
a visit to the ocean
a dream of not winter
for me

Thursday, February 3, 2011



            it's late at night, summertime in the city,  he's driving home from work, the windows open.
            stopping for the light, a hooker walks up and puts her arm on the door where the window is open.

           she leans, looks at him and says, "whats you wants ta happen"

Wednesday, February 2, 2011

did you think today
did you happen to think about all the people on the planet
one by one

yes  i did
then what do you think

i think i would like to meet all these people
one by one

wouldn't that be lovely
walking around the world
going up to every person
looking at their face
looking in their eyes
shaking their hand
and then moving on to the next person
that would be lovely

because there are some people
i don't want to say they are evil
but i think perhaps they must be evil
because when i shake their hand
it gives me an awful feeling
throughout my body, that i do not forget
i forget the face, i forget the person
but i do not forget the feeling
it sorta disrupts the flow of energy
in my body
it sends tremors through my veins
and have no answer why

so i think about going around the world
to greet every face with a smile and extend
my hand

maybe a billion people would be happy to meet me
maybe they would smile to greet me

maybe two billion people would be happy to shake my hand
that would be a nice trip to take
just to wander the world to shake everybody's hand
without even bothering to see the sights

like the politicans
with the big smile and strong forward gait with arm and hand extended
meet me meet me

there are all these people
all over the place
and i don't know them

and that is what i think about sometimes
what are they doing
even smaller thoughts than that
what are they wearing today;
what did they have for breakfast
are they standing in sunshine
are they happy

maybe, it's because today
the house is surrounded by more than two feet of snow
in some places four feet of snow
can't step more that two feet out the door
can't go anywhere
can only loook to the distance, to the  sky
and the whole world seems closer
no one can reach us
we're covered with snow
yet everyone is closer

the quiet stillness of the frozen snow
the blinding sun
no traffic sounds on the road
they probably won't plow our road for two to three days
the cold will freeze the snow
the cold will freeze the wires
maybe they will snap and the power will cease
and the cold will freeze
and maybe they promise minus twenty degrees

and i think about somebody else
in a far away place
and what are they doing today
and are they safe
 is everybody safe
funny how the cold and the snow and the ice
brings thoughts and images
of you in your far away place
and wondering if you are safe

today i want everybody to be safe
as i shake the hand of every body i see
in my minds eye eight billion maybe

snowed in snowed bound
and travelling free
to meet every body
with a smile on my face
as i look in your eye
as you take my hand
and then walk on by

i want not to linger
just visit for a sec

funny what one thinks
when snowed in and
snowed bound

with no place to go

and outside no sound
so quiet
so still
all life?
poised, waiting
what will happen next
it it so quiet
time is standing still
it is the time to look
and as you look out the window
at the stillness
at the sun
at the snow
it becomes an out of body experience
the mind is travelling around the world
and then we wonder
is this
 what they call stir crazy