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Kill Baby Kill 2

And so we stand here again. Blog post #2. Wolves. Shall we cut the crap and get straight to it? Yes, I agree.

“The only way we are going to make these wolves afraid to come around human beings and livestock,” says Beck, 71, “is (for wolves) to be shot at. –The Oregonian (Correction: Credit for The Oregonian references in this blog belong to reporter Richard Cockle – My apologies to Michelle Brence who is a editor at The Oregonian and was previously listed as the source of the reported statement).

– Here we go with the livestock again. Well, that is up to you. Are you a rancher? If so I already know what you think. Are you a red meat eater? If so I already know what you think. Or do I? I eat red meat. Not all too often but I do. What is better to me than a cool blue center ribeye, lovely free range meat (long lived mind you, I am not a baby killer: veal)? Not much better than that. But my steak is not worth two lives. My steak is not worth a wolf hunt. My pleasure is not that important. This is not about cattle, it is about control, power and you bet ya, MONEY.

“When wolves are indiscriminately killed whether as reprisal for livestock depredation or to reduce wolf predation on wild ungulates, it can affect future human-wolf relations. Removal of wolves from a region can enhance survival of remaining young growing pups which in turn increases the demand for more meat. Also indiscriminate predator control skews populations towards younger animals—which on the whole are inexperienced and more likely to kill livestock. Thus even killing wolves to enhance wild ungulate populations can increase wolf predation on livestock and ungulates that will likely increase demands for even more wolf control.  –George Wuerthner, New West

–I…oh wait, I agree.

Gray wolves were reintroduced in Idaho, Montana and Wyoming in the 1990s, and they’re again making their presence felt in Oregon. Some believe they should be left alone, and others insist they have no business here. – The Oregonian

– Ok, how can a wolf have “no business here”? I really do not get it. They are a part of the ecosystem, they are living creatures. How can they not have business here? They are not pushing paper, pushing the buck. Who the fuck do we think we are? Oh, that’s right, we are God. Silly me, I forgot.

Lets see what a local politician has to say on the matter. A Republican candidate for governor of Idaho, Rex Rammell, was at a political barbecue last week when somebody brought up the tags used by wolf hunters, and then made a reference to killing the president of the United States. “Obama tags?” Rammell replied, to laughter, according to an account in The Times-News of Twin Falls. “We’d buy some of those.” –Timothy Egan, New York Times

– Please don’t make me comment. Like Obama or not, is this really the kind of person you want playing a hand in your country? If you said yes, please vote under” Hitler” on your ballot, for even that terrorist had more eloquence than Rammell. As for wolves, Rammell wants them all dead, dead, dead. “I believe wolves need to be eliminated,” he says on his Web site. –Timothy Egan, New York Times

– No more wolves? Ever? You want to kill every last one? Wow. Listen up people, hide your children, hide your families. Once Hitler is done with the wolves… he may come for you. DEAD. DEAD. DEAD. I will keep bringing you the arguments. But in the end, I will change nothing. One last note tonight. If we can go to the moon, use plants to cure disease, bring children into the world 2 months before they are due and keep them alive, WHY, WHY, can we not find a way to co-exist with a creature that we have been playing GOD with for far to long.

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Fletch Lives!

I just had a very LARGE breakthrough. Dispolar Biorder still holds true. However if you know me you know I am very… sensitive.

Tonight, after seven years, my husband managed to track down a soundtrack for me. I love the movie the soundtrack comes from, it was an old family movie (Fletch). My mom and dad use to watch this movie all the time. These memories I have been “hiding” are not of rape, not of pain, not of destruction. The memories I have been hiding are of my family and this soundtrack reminded me of all the days I lived unafraid and whole. All my days as a protected dreamer. Yes, my mom stroked my head and we barbecued and so much more.

Fire works on my birthday… My dad coming home to us… So much joy.

The three of us. We really kicked ass. I have been hiding the good memories. I have been hiding the greatest times of my life. I have been hiding US. Three musketeer’s, think twice, we were better. The “black sheep” son, the neglected brilliant daughter, the child they had. Me. I have been hiding them, I have been hiding me.

I made a pact. If my father or mother ever died, I would die. I have been holding the promise. I have been slowly killing myself for seven years. I promised if my dad ever died I would die and I am, it took seven years but I am. Seems my brain remembers. I would rather be dead with him then stay with the lot of you.

If I did really die, I would have to take my mother with me (guess I should talk to her about that first).

I did not understand until listening to this album and remembering the three of us. Both of my parents were separate from their family. They made their own family. The word “special” does not really cover what we were. I was raised by two of the best people that have ever, and may ever exist.

I did not see it before. I guess it really is love. I have one foot in the grave. One foot on the plot. I won’t leave them. Either of them. I am going with them. Even if it tears me in two.

I think I understand God now.

My heart is light tonight. At least now, I know. I am not full of shit. I am just keeping the promise I made to myself years ago.

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Kill Baby Kill

So you are all headed out to “bag” some wolves. Lets look at this…in detail. I’ve had a couple beers and I don’t mind writing like a tree hugging, dirt worshipin’ bitch.

On the left side of the ring is The Hunter.

On the right (oh yeah, pun intended) side of the ring is The Wolf.

This may take more than one blog post. The wolf is my spirit guide after all. I should do my part. I will try to remain calm and neutral even though we all know that I can’t and won’t.

First up The Hunter and for this we will have to go into the “mind” of the man in his pretty hunting gear with his pretty gun. We may have to save wolves for another blog post. While I believe there is not much to The Hunters mind, I do believe he is backed up by many a government officials, so they too, will have to be analyzed.

“Montana has sold 7,120 wolf licenses. “The system is working, and hunters are excited to have the opportunity,” Jim Unsworth, deputy director of the Idaho department, said in a statement.” – Kim Murphy Los Angeles Times

– So, making money off of the licences? Underlying motive? I think so. What is a life worth these days? Excited Hunters? No shit!

“An Eagle, Idaho, man was cited for poaching Tuesday when he shot a wolf on a public road from the back of his pickup truck in an area not open for wolf hunting. The man told officers he thought he was in a legal zone until he later checked a map. The wolf was a small female, still a pup, according to the fish and game department.” – Kim Murphy Los Angeles Times

– Woops. Thats ok. She was just a pup after all.

“One of the first hunters to report a wolf kill in Idaho, Robert Millage of Kamiah, Idaho, said he had been flooded with hostile e-mails and phone calls calling him a wolf murderer and a fat redneck. “I have a thick skin and a good sense of humor. What am I going to do, yell back at them?” he told the Lewiston Tribune. “I obeyed the law and did what [the Idaho Department of] Fish and Game wanted us to do. I can sleep well.” – Kim Murphy Los Angeles Times

-Sleep baby sleep. The law will protect you. Oh wait, the law USE to protect wolves until they became inconvenient and turned a profit. Don’t worry Robert, I am sure they will take care of you when your old, inconvenient and sucking up the governments money. How is your retirement plan anyway?

” State wildlife officials say wolves have killed a fifth hunting dog in Clark County and other dogs have been injured. Three packs of wolves have been linked with killing hunting dogs this year.” – USA Today

– An eye for an eye? Wolves are very territorial. Why is the life of a dog worth more than a life of a wolf? Because people hate wolves and love dogs? People.. we may be getting somewhere now. People, population, land control. If we put the wolves somewhere and they want another square foot, they will have to pay. With their lives. But I thought people were God? We are arn’t we? We get to decide who lives and dies. Yea! We are God now.

I am going to continue this blog post. I think it may take a few. I want to get something clear. I know there are “good” hunters out there. Yes, you know who you are. Wolves are a form of “population control” for the vegan wildlife that in large populations can destroy an environment. However, wolves have it bred into their blood, what they are meant to do. They hunt and kill the sick and the weak of the herd. Yes, they are selective killers. I think they are confused, they can no longer do their job as we control them and their herds. Good hunters kill AND eat the animal in question. GOOD hunters kill quickly and do NOT take trophies. Good hunters keep the balance that is hunter vs. hunted. The problem as I see it is that we really think we can “control” any situation that involves wildlife. I place before the court. If the wolves are eating the cattle, they are hungry. Why are they hungry? We hunt their game and control it. They hunt the cattle. Wait. Hunting cattle? Whats to hunt? They don’t move to much. We take their land and put cattle on it. We hunt their food and put cattle on it. What will they eat? Cattle.

We are wrong. We are a sick race. This is just a pissing contest. I think we are threatened because the wolves are just to close to the top of our precious food chain.

P.S. Sarah Palin is an ignorant tyrant.

Robert Millage of Kamiah, Idaho. The first in Idaho to bag the "beast". Congrats.
Robert Millage of Kamiah, Idaho. The first in Idaho to bag the "beast". Congrats. (Source: Robert Millage via Associated Press / Los Angeles Times)

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I Changed Me Bloggies

I have not written in this blog for many a month. It proves nothing other than I can never really see anything through, or even to a decent point in a timeline. It reminds me much of the doll reconstruction I was absolutely obsessed with for two months. Two months, new paints and Barbie heads (minus their manufacture paint and hair) littering the household. All of that research and passion for a new obsession simply added up to yet another project that will never be completed. The only good thing to come of the “I play with dollies” phase was the cats now have a lot of faceless, hairless heads to bat around the house. Good for kitties. Bad for me.

Upon reflection of this blasphemous blog I decided that my writing turned out not to be what I had thought or wanted it to be. Though my friends proclaimed to enjoy it, it simply was not it coming across as intended. I have a very deep spiritual side. But that is the only deep thing about me. My dream blog was to write about The One… I will go more into that later, I am to lazy to explain it now. Anyhow, instead of finding spiritual mastery, great meaning and an intimate relationship with the “great mystery” in my blog writing; I found a foul mouthed, sarcastic, control freak who really has either no clue of what is going on around her or too many clues that are confusing her.

I renamed the blog as such because I suffer from Bipolar Disorder (a mood disorder). If you want to know more about it, look it up, I am sick of talking about it. However, I have decided not to take medication for this very annoying mental illness. I think that my spiritual side may be just that, spirit, unseen, undefined. Hence only an ass like myself would choose to attempt to write about that. But this bipolar disorder… Well, this could be some fun. I tried to write a novel, I tried non fiction. Shit, these days I can’t even see to complete a Haiku. Perhaps a blog of my ups and downs might reveal a cure?

No. I think not. There is no cure. Maybe a cure is not meant to be. If I write honestly, I may be able to find a pattern to my disease and thus… Well, that really won’t help either but lets give it a try.

If you are reading this blog you will probably take nothing from it but please enjoy Royo’s beautiful artwork (or for some of you “hot chicks touching each other”).  I will keep posting them as my mood changes.

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Am I God?

God is simply and most safely a “person” we imagine that holds a mirror to ourselves. So that we may look in that mirror and see who we are, bit by bit, thought by thought, emotion by emotion, wrinkle by wrinkle. In this mirror we see ourselves, only ourselves viewed by and judged by; only ourselves.

God is the person we envision being their as we see ourselves in all honesty, in all nakedness and truth. God is very simply a inner image of someone that sees us as we see ourselves and loves us anyway. This person that god is. Well, he (or she, or it or whatever it is that you see) is the person holding the mirror that only we see that does not judge, or comment on, or scold. God is us seeing the true image of what we are and hoping that that is good enough. God is us, we are god. To only god can you pray but only you will hear these prayers as only god can hear.

God is the only person you can trust. Your instinct and your mind, your heart and your truth. Never allow another man to tell you who is god.

Only you know who god is. As god only speaks to you. Every man has a different view of god and yes, god talks to every man. Not two, three , four men. Every single human is spoken to by god alone. You see?

Only you can hear the words of god as they are meant to you.

To tell others that they can only accept the words that god has said to only you is false and against god.

God speaks to everyone. In their own language.

God is the only one in the room of my mind, god is there with me as I hold the mirror to myself, only god and I know who I am.

See? God does not rule us, god does. Ourselves trying to comprehend something so simple we started wars for it, raped children for it, beat women for it, and killed innocents for it. And “it” is bad. Not god but bad men. Bad, bad men.

god is ourselves, crying to be seen by all, but unheard still.

“And in likeness, we were created”.

Anonymous. Published. 2006

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Hair I am

I cut my hair today. Finally the inches and inches of it. All gone. I never cut my hair. It has been to this date nine years since I have cut it.

When my father died I took off 7 inches of my beautiful Lakota hair. Today I cut off ten.

I watched my mother in a full blown panic attack and realized that she and I have had enough. She and I have been to hell (only to go straight back). The hair is bundled and ready for the ocean. I took my hair to the ocean nine years ago for my daddy. Now I cut it again. My Grandmother past away this last month but in truth, that has nothing to do with anything that comes to my silly hair.

I cut my hair to invoke change, to acknowledge change, to become one with it.

I am within public display of my horrid, painful folly.

I cut my hair because the past is dead. Because the past has become so painful I cannot breathe.

I cut off the past, I found my husbands arms covered with my own tears. Without the past I do not know who I am. My hair is gone, my beauty, my pride. Now I feel worthless. Now I can become worthlessness. I only can accept that I am what I am with or without my precious hair.

If I had balls, they would be very engorged. It took all of my strength to cut my past from myself and face still, my own face. Hair or no hair, God or no God, dreams or no dream.

I could feel the knife upon my vein (oh, how I wanted it). I can still feel the clean cut that severs me from all of this.  But I took the blade to my hair, not to my life.

Death screams to me but I chose to sever the ghost of the past. Not sever the ghost of the future.

Blade covered with hair, not blood. I am satisfied by this.

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Dec. 10. 2008. StarDate3490.804.20080.12

Dear Dad;

I really, really fucking miss you. I am so mad at you for leaving I can barely control it anymore. Did you really expect me to be able to hold this family up? I mean, what the fuck were you thinking? You don’t talk to me for years then you come back to me and tell me you always loved me then you travel up to see me and die! Really, what the fuck was your soul thinking? Did you really think mom and I were going to leave the hospital and be OK? Did you really think she and I would survive your ignorant death? You know that it is seven years later and it is still the same for her and I as that night you died. You die everyday for us, over and over again. Do you have any idea what I went through? Do you have any idea what she went through?

Let me tell you, you absolute asshole.

After years of longing for our damn relationship to return to normal, after years of self hatred at the thought I had done something so wrong as to lose your love, after years of lingering around your bedroom door waiting for forgiveness you come back to me. You decide to forgive me (much to my shock) for being a crappy teenager. You travel your ass up here with my mother in tow, not once but twice, back to Oregon where we should have stayed. You forgive me, acknowledge me, hug me, cry, tell me you are proud of me, tell me you love me. Then you fucking die. You have some stupid heart attack that kills you while your on the fucking road.

So here it is you jerk. This is just me remember, mom has some words for you too.

My fucking day at work, I begged and begged my boss to get off early so I could spend as much time with you and mom as possible but there was so much to be done that I had to stay all through my shift. By the time I get home, so excited to plan our night together before you get back to California, I give mom’s cell a ring to check status on our plans. Let me tell you now how you destroyed every moment of my life, for the rest of my life.

Panic on the other end of the damn phone. I had no idea. Mom was on her way to the hospital with you. You were already dead. I didn’t know you were dead dad. I got in my Honda in a fury and started to drive in your general direction. You should have died in Portland, not so stupid town 30 miles away. You could have done the damn antique shopping in Portland. I had no idea where I was going, stopping at a Les Schwab in screaming tears to ask where the fucking hospital was in a town I had been to only once before and only in passing.

Oh, let me tell you about the traffic, see you decided to die right before rush hour. I was trying to get to you, putting cigarettes out on the floor of the Honda in panic screaming, no God, you won’t take him, he will be fine, it was just a heart attack, he is alive and we can get his heart fixed, no God, you would not take him from us, no God you just would not do it, never take my daddy, not now, not now when I just got him back.

You see dad? I thought you were still alive and it was too close of a call. Even though my panic was so bad I think I knew you were gone. But I did not know. After an hour in panic in traffic some miracle guides me to the hospital in a town I didn’t know, off of roads I had never travels to rush, crying into the hospital asking for you.

Listen up dad, it gets better.

The nurse did not tell me you were dead. She put her skinny arms around my shoulder and lead me to you.

See dad, she didn’t tell me. I ran to you on that hospital bed, telling you I was there and it would be ok from now on. You just had a heart attack and now we could get your heart fixed and you would be ok and we would be a family again and I loved you, God how much I loved you.

See. You were dead and she didn’t tell me. I really didn’t know until I had stopped talking to you and looked at my mother. You left us there. Alone. You left us for dead. It gets better still dad, see the Grim Reaper may not have taken our bodies but when you died he took our souls.

I screamed my way out of the hospital and put three beautiful dents in my baby Honda. They called the police on me dad. The stupid nurse, shit she probably called, “some crazy girl in the parking lot kicking a white Honda and screaming”. Lucky for the cops they didn’t even touch me. I was ready for the gas chamber.

After that the nothingness set it, not the good kind of no-thing-ness but the empty silence of absence.

I got in a fight with the clerk at the hotel you and mom had been staying at. That son of a mother fucking, ignorant, bastard. When my mom had stated (still in shock mind you) that you had just past away he did not care and demanded that she pay extra to have her room unlocked because she failed to check in. “Sorry, I thought, her husband was busy dying and she had just lost her entire world” but of course, pay the extra damn fee.

I threatened to kill him. If I had had a gun dad, I would have. He told me it wasn’t his fault you had died and I agreed but when I screamed that he could me more compassionate to a widow he just stared ignorantly with a supreme smirk on his face. He didn’t understand. I wish he was in the grasp of death, even now.

Dad. You left us for dead. Now it is Christmas time and you are not here. Oh, you ruined Thanksgiving too. You just had to die Thanksgiving Eve so we eat pizza on Thanksgiving and cry.

I have made every attempt to end my life. Life has little value. Even my beautiful husband, special son and enduring mother cannot convince me to stay. I am coming for you. It was all I ever, really wanted. Just want my God damn daddy.

-Cass

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Road Rage

THE MOMENT:

Asshole meets me.

He loved my bumper. He was so sexually attracted to my bumper he tried to kiss it. He got so close to my bumper it thought it was with child. I was only going 70 in a 65 zone and I was just trying to pass a truck but NO! Asshole could not abide by my truck passing, he decided to inject me with some of his hot masculine tailgating and swearing on the road (with eye contact) at stupid “bitches” (oh so I think that is what the third finger in on the right hand means).

WHY did I lag speed? Why did I humor him? Why not pull over on the side of the road and lick my wounds at the nearest bar?

I did not lick my wounds. I dropped to a slow 55 in a 65 zone and made the bastard suffer. He had no way out and I was heading the pack. He was mad when after several miles I allowed him to pass.

My road rage is no gun, nor a middle finger, nor a heart attack. I simply will fight for what is mine, the right to drive on the damn road my taxes pay for. No middle aged, power hungry, small penis asshole can take that from me.

Why the hell did I do that? Because I am tired of being pushed around by some stupid asshole that I do not know that makes me feel like shit just because, like most of us, I am trying to maintain peace and obey the laws on this planet. I want to go fast. Oh, I want to speed, shit, I want to run over people but I don’t. When I pass I smile and when I merge in front of someone I wave (whether they made room for me or not).

Why did I even bother my day with this asshole?

Because I am a petty, stupid, sensitive and compassionate idiot that simply cares too much about what is happening around me and all the other poor, peaceful idiots that care about what is happening to them.

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The Universe Spoke

And so the silence lay like a blissful martini above my mind but no. It was not a martini or some dream of life and love and thoughts of past, present, future.

Yes. I was dreaming of the universe. Very, very large. And very much not a passing drink.

Everything for me is measured in volumes as like so many people whom are allotted; I self medicate.

This dream like so many others always comes at just the right time. And this dream, unlike so many others was just enough to change my mind.

But this dream was followed by a friend. And I do not believe in friends, only foes. And I do not believe in dreams only dark. But I can share this as well as any medication.

To float out in the “UNIVERSE”? Pretty fucking scary. We have all see Alien-Alien 3 right?

This floating? Not so scary for me and mind me peoples’ I had an ambulance once pick me up on the side of the freeway for a “panic attack”. Yes, 500 $$$ bill to boot for that 6 mile trip to the ER to hear my brain had some minor “problems” with controlling my ability to cope with stress and was handing out adrenaline to my blood stream like a drunk bartender. Shit, I thought grim was a knocking on the side of my pretty white honda. I digress…

I am floating around in this solar system and the beauty it bestow is beyond letters put together purposefully. The clam sense of anti fear, anti worry and anti heartache is much greater than any dream dare provide before. As my pudgy body floats aimlessly out of the solar system into the universe I am gently confronted by a large undefined face forming out of what looks like space dust (cheesy I know but bare with me).

Simple as can be, in a strong voice neither guy nor gal, the face speaks to me lovingly of accepting my life and enjoying all experience, good or bad, simply because it is the experience that is needed to grow. It speaks of no fear as fear is attached to the body and is discarded after death. It speaks of after the physical death when what is left of the consciousness makes its way back to great beyond to a entirely different existence. Of life, love, pain, fear, misery, loss, happiness all being generally the same only seen through milllions of different eyes.

What can be said? It was one of those very personal things that I have decided to post on my blog because I am an ass.

As for the friend that followed.

We all know I love wolves beyond all things and hold them in the highest esteem. Well, the morning after the dream, purly by coincidence I followed a van all the way back to my home that had a huge picture of a wolf on the back staring right at me. I just know it was a sign as wolves are my “spirit guides”. I know the driver of that van felt something too, shortly before he pegged me as a stocker after I cut off another car to remain behind him.

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I Will Blog…

I will blog in efforts to become a better person and express my ideas to absolutly no one (as none read my tiny, deprived, selfish little blog). I guess I could go on and on about why I have decided to continue with this sorely neglected blog of mine that waits for a post like a woman waits for an orgasm but instead I will simply say; my mother has had a blog a year less than myself and written in it over and over again (yes, a very satisfied blog) and I have let mine be a fancy passing in my somewhat delusional life.

My mommy has outdone me! (This is why they encourage home schooling (smart mommy’s))

No longer will I sit in the shadows of her editorial perfect, prestigious, profound, well-developed, intellegent (not “I can retort” intellegence but real independent free thinking intellegence), passionate blog.

I will now rise above to spew forth a very not intelligent, not profound and very un-developed blog.

How dare my mommy out do me!

So lets see what happens when opinions meet fire meet fingers meet blog.

Will my brutal honesty be the folly or simply the teaser?

Will I look like an ass or like an ass that owns an ass whom is owned by an ass?

Will anything make sense in the end of the end that starts the beginning of the end of another end?

Tune in next week for more of my mental bowl movements.