Auto Pilot

Auto Pilot

Okay, so am I the only one concerned about these new driverless cars that Google’s come up with? Rest assured that I am all for anything that helps the disabled to move through this world in comfort. However, should a sightless person be driving? Well, maybe. How much worse could they be? At least they couldn’t text and drive.

Seriously though, let’s look at the logistics. The subcompact car will look something like a computer mouse. It has no steering wheel, gas or brake pedals and, at first, will go no faster than forty miles per hour. The passenger pushes buttons to start and end the ride. The route is set with either manual or verbal commands to a Global Positioning System (GPS). Cameras and sensors conceivably will prevent accidents.

So, I can see this in controlled situations. You know, college campuses, hospitals, factories, airports,  maybe even golf courses and parks. An entire new generation of blind golfers could emerge and join the ranks of the too lazy to play real sports crowd. All they need is a way to get around the sand traps and water hazards. What could be more perfect?

But, street legal? Supporters of this idea say that these cars could eliminate drunk and distracted driving. This is a good argument? What if you spill your coffee, cocktail, soft drink or nail polish on the dashboard and the whole thing shorts out? Computers crash just like cars and simply stop—in real or internet traffic.

Finally I ask, “What IS Google’s real purpose here?” Google as the largest provider of geo-location information, and with the car’s computer  dialed in to their data systems, what are the chances that they will follow you? Google collects data through e-mail and search engines,  now they’ll be able to tell where you drive, how often you go there and whatever else you do in or with your car. Jealous spouses might like this idea, but to me it’s simply Beyond Cuckoo.

 

Auto Pilot

The Devil Made Me Do It

The Devil Made Me Do It

 

Hunting season is in full swing. Armed and dangerous people are on the loose in restaurants, shopping malls, and college campuses. I took a two hour class at work to teach me what to do when (not if) an armed and crazy person leaps the interview room counter and sprays bullets throughout the office. What the fuck is going on? Is this Beyond Cuckoo or what?

Then I see the Pope on TV making one more attempt to bring the world closer to peace. I haven’t been a Catholic for some time; yet I recognize truth in religion when I see it. I think Pope Francis is on to something. What if there really is a Satan, a devil, a dark side, an evil force, a fallen angel etc. that periodically invades our minds, souls and collective reasoning to create havoc in the world?

One of my favorite comedic movies is Ghostbusters—you can’t help but love these guys who say, “I ain’t afraid of no ghosts.” And mean it. They vaporize them and take back New York City—no small feat. Yet, I’m afraid. I came of age in New York City, and those years are tame compared to how I feel today. Ghosts, goblins and devils seem to have the upper hand. Do you agree? If you do, what do you do about it? How are we to get through this darkness? How do we stay alive?

Here’s what I suggest::

   Hang with folks that don’t scare you..

  Adopt folks that need help. This includes all species of animals, plants, and people. Some of us can only take care of a cactus and others make orchids bloom. A dog may be too much, but a goldfish might work. Pick a level you can handle, but use it to get out of yourself. This only happens when we put someone or something else first.

   Protect yourself. Be aware of the surroundings. Don’t take it to the point of paranoia, but know that all is not right with the world.

   Give others a chance. Everyone can’t be friends, but we can treat each other with respectful honesty. Turn aggressive arguments into healthy debates. Play by the rules—not everything is open game.

    Don’t kill yourself or anyone else.

 

http://www.latimes.com/world/europe/la-fg-pope-francis-israel-palestinian-peace-20140608-story.html

 

The Devil Made Me Do It

And My Beat Goes On

And My Beat Goes On

Two things happened recently. I heard author and rock journalist, Sylvie Simmons talk about her latest book, I’m Your Man: The Life of Leonard Cohen and several of my poems were included in the anthology, And The Beats Go On, published by Redwood Writers, a branch of the California Writers Club. The combination has brought me to a finish.

• I’ve finished with the questions that may never have answers.


• I’ve finished with the people that can’t understand.


• I’ve finished thinking that everyone else is better.

When I heard Sylvie play the songs of Leonard Cohen, simply and honestly on a ukulele, without amplification; I thought back to the living room, next to the dining room, where, Balanced On The Edge of the Crowd” opens. In that room, I played Leonard Cohen’s first album until I had it memorized. I also carried a copy of Lawrence Ferlinghetti’s, A Coney Island of the Mind–it too, memorized.

Today Leonard and Lawrence are with me still and:

• I have answers to the questions I was afraid to ask.


• I have people around that understand.


• I am as good as anybody.

Not bad for a day’s work. The part that is Beyond Cuckoo is how long it took to get here.

http://www.amazon.com/Im-Your-Man-Leonard-Cohen/dp/0061995002/ref=tmm_pap_title_0

http://www.amazon.com/Redwood-Writers-2014-Poetry-Anthology/dp/1496094611/

 

And My Beat Goes On

Elizabeth Warren: A Fighting Chance for the Middle Class

This morning, as I sipped my coffee, I caught a TV interview with Elizabeth Warren on CBS news. Her book, A Fighting Chance, launches today—a plea for economic fairness for Middle Class America. Much of the discussion was old news for those of us who work for a living. We pay the taxes, fuel the economy, and lose at a game that’s rigged to support the wealthy.

“Special deals for those who’ve already got money, and the ticket gets paid by hardworking families who are barely hanging on,” is how Ms. Warren described it.

As she spoke about her father’s heart attack, my own heart sank. She was twelve when suddenly her family struggled to pay their bills. I was thirty-six when my husband Blake almost died from a major arrhythmia. She describes her ordeal:

“He was sick for a long time, and he was out of work,” she said. “We lost the family station wagon. And we came right to the edge of losing our home. My mother saved our home with a minimum wage job. But in the 1960s, a minimum wage job would support a family of three above the poverty line. Not today. Not even close.

“I understood right then that people can work hard, they can play by the rules, and they can still take a hard smack.”

I describe my ordeal, as one in which each morning I awoke to the feeling that I was stuck in limbo. Blake’s health continued in an on-again/off-again pattern. Luckily I had health insurance or we would have lost everything. It could all have been gone within a few months. Our finances dwindled and we struggled with debt. I watched as government bailed out huge financial institutions and big business. I wondered who would bail us out. Well, we made it through, but many don’t.

Elizabeth Warren describes it this way in an excerpt from her Prologue:

Today the game is rigged— rigged to work for those who have money and power. Big corporations hire armies of lobbyists to get billion- dollar loopholes into the tax system and persuade their friends in Congress to support laws that keep the playing field tilted in their favor. Meanwhile,hardworking families are told that they’ll just have to live with smaller dreams for their children.

Over the past generation, America’s determination to give every kid access to affordable college or technical training has faded. The basic infrastructure that helps us build thriving businesses and jobs— the roads, bridges, and power grids— has crumbled. The scientific and medical research that has sparked miraculous cures and inventions from the Internet to nanotechnology is starved for funding, and the research pipeline is shrinking. The optimism that defines us as a people has been beaten and bruised.

It doesn’t have to be this way.

A Free Download of the Table of Contents and Prologue of “A Fighting Chance” is available: http://fightingchancebook.com/wp-content/uploads/2014/04/AFightingChance-Prologue.pdf

For me the bottom line is that unless the middle class supports senators like Elizabeth Warren, we will continue to live in an economic world that is BEYOND CUCKOO.

Elizabeth Warren: A Fighting Chance for the Middle Class

The Thulani Program - Helping the Most Vulnerable

My Name is: Shaggy 

The e-mail came from my husband, Blake, to me at work, “What do you think about this guy? Click through the link to see Shaggy.”

A double-click took me to The Thulani Program’s website and my first glimpse of our next foster dog. I picked up the phone.

“Hi, this is me . . . are you there?” I asked the voice mail message.

“Here I am,” Blake answered as he picked up his home office phone.

“I’m looking at Shaggy’s photo; he looks on the disheveled side.”

We had recently lost our first Thulani foster, Buddy, to cancer and I wasn’t sure I could handle taking on another dog with too many health problems. I’ve adjusted to the relatively short periods that we have with these gentle giants, but I wanted some quality time before the true hospice care began. Shaggy’s appearance definitely fit his name. The animal shelter’s “mug shot” pictured a sad-eyed, depressed pooch, with a broken heart. He had been recently separated from his companion, who was adopted out, and Shaggy awaited euthanasia. I wondered about his health condition and the challenges that we may face. All I could see was sadness. However, Blake, the eternal optimist, turned my thoughts around.

“Oh that’s just a bad photo. How do you think you’d look in jail? . . . Or first thing in the morning?” he teased.

“Smart alec!”  I bit back, then took another look at the computer screen. I knew this wasn’t a great photo and I had faith that Bob Jachens, at Thulani would honestly tell us, about Shaggy’s condition and disposition.

I kidded, wanting to get even for that early morning comment.

*    *    *    *

Well, it’s a new year and a new life for the Shagster. As I write this, he snores at my feet, recuperating from our early morning game of football and walk around the neighborhood.  He spends his days as ambassador to Blake’s clients that frequent his home office—always welcoming them with a nose-nuzzle and tag-wag. That is until I come through the door in the evening. From that point on, my ‘Shaggy Shadow’ follows me wherever I go. Blake says that Shaggy knows it’s his job to keep an eye on me and keep me from harm. I think we simply connect in some special way.

Shaggy’s been with us now six months. We haven’t seen any significant health problems—only a few signs of old age—extra bathroom trips, a sore hip if we do too much and an upset tummy if Mom gets overly enthusiastic with her treats.  Otherwise, we’ve been to the beach several times and once to the local dog park—where we made friends easily and even had a short roll in the hay. (Not that kind . . . sheesh.) His fur has filled back in; he has the sporadic energy of a puppy and is in no way ready to end his life. Shaggy (a.k.a. Shagster) is a classic example of a dog benefitting from The Thulani Project’s Mission of ‘Helping the Most Vulnerable’—finding good homes for old dogs ready to learn new tricks.

German Shepherds are special in so many ways.  Their intelligence, sense of loyalty, and calm demeanor all shine into their later years—in some ways even more brightly than when they frolicked as adolescents. Blake and I are planning our fortieth wedding anniversary in April. We also don’t frolic with as much intensity as we did in our younger years. However, we like to consider ourselves somewhat wiser with plenty of life left. That is why we love these senior dogs—they relate to all the love and fun we can give them.

Oh and by-the way, regarding our anniversary getaway weekend: We found this great place in Mendocino County with rental cottages that welcome dogs—high in the hills, under the stars, not far from the beach with fenced yards. Do you think Shaggy will like it?

Prematurely putting these old dogs down, is not only unnecessarily cruel–it’s BEYOND CUCKOO!

http://www.gsrnc.org/index.asp

http://thulanidogs.org/2014/04/06/thunder-t/

The Thulani Program - Helping the Most Vulnerable

Snorkelers Care

When time and money is in abundance, my husband Blake’s and my favorite vacation spots are in Hawaii. Too timid to dive, we snorkel—gently hovering over coral reefs and peeking into nooks and crannies. The treasures we find are worth more than the gold rumored to be buried with the many shipwrecks still to be discovered.

Regardless of which island we visit, we often rent our snorkeling gear from Snorkel Bob’s chain of outfitters. As you enter any one of the many locations, you can’t help but notice the information about the company’s foundation which focuses on reef recovery. The 501c3 non-profit recognizes the worldwide global impact of reef collapse. It has been instrumental in exposing the Hawaii aquarium trade and its uncontrolled netting, which decimates the fish populations and creates ecological imbalance. One of the biggest threat to the reefs is algae and guess what controls the algae?—the fish population. The aquarium trade fills 80% of all tanks in the U.S. with Hawaii reef fish, 99% of which die in a year.  In the wild they live for decades.

Today, as a landlubber, dreaming of the ocean, but with only terra firma under my feet, I did some research and unearthed a few facts:

It is estimated that up to 30 million fish, 4 million pounds of coral skeleton and 9-10 million other invertebrate are removed each year from ecosystems to supply the aquarium trade.

Precise quantification of the size and value of the ornamental trade is stymied by the critical lack of monitoring and regulation, which leads to illegal poaching practices, which supplies a sizeable black market for reef-dwelling organisms.

Since the state of Hawaii established a series of reserves on the Kona coastline to protect ornamental fish from collection, aquarium fish are now recovering in these areas.

Cyanide is used to poison fish rapidly. It is squirted by divers from bottles to stun the fish, so it is easy to scoop them into nets. Cyanide fishing is currently one of the biggest threats to coral reefs in areas that supply the aquarium trade.

To increase profitable populations invasive species have been added to coral reefs. A classic example is the introduction of the Pacific Lionfish to waters off south Florida. These invaders are voracious predators and their populations have moved as far north as Long Island and throughout the Caribbean Sea.

I could go on, but I think you get the picture. It is beyond cuckoo that this industry continues to destroy our ecosystems. If we are to preserve and respect this earth and all its resources, we cannot discount, even those things that seem innocent—like the aquarium tank that is just so entertaining as you anxiously await that next root canal.

Check out Snorkel Bob’s Facebook page at: https://www.facebook.com/pages/Snorkel-Bobs/113551378706566

 

Snorkelers Care

Praise The Lord And Pass The Snakes

I’m open-minded when it comes to religion. A mix and match blend of belief and practice is perfectly fine with me. As a child, brought up as a Catholic, I’m no stranger, to scary, gothic and dark ritual. Today, I follow the teachings of Paramahansa Yogananda. In Chapter 39 of “Autobiography of a Yogi” he recounts the time he spent with Therese Newman, the Catholic Stigmatist, who on Fridays would experience the Passion of Christ and openly bleed from identical wounds. Not my idea of a good time, but she was a saint and I’m not. Maybe someday, I’ll be able to bleed with the best–probably not this lifetime.

However, I think I finally found the limit of my religious tolerance with this practice of the Full Gospel Tabernacle in Jesus Name Church, which includes poisonous snake handling as part of the service. The recent death of Pastor Jamie Coots has me thinking that this is simply Beyond Cuckoo.

Coots belonged to a small circle of Pentecostal Holiness pastors who take this passage from the Bible’s Gospel of Mark literally:  “And these signs shall follow them that believe; In my name shall they cast out devils; they shall speak with new tongues; They shall take up serpents; and if they drink any deadly thing, it shall not hurt them; they shall lay hands on the sick, and they shall recover.”  For some reason, I don’t think Jesus meant that we should antagonize, frighten and exploit reptiles in his name—not to mention that it happens to be stupidly dangerous to the parishioners.

Then there’s the addiction theory–that some folks are simply thrill-seekers. They get a rush from facing death and feel powerful when they escape tragedy. Coots often spoke of the rush of feeling the hand of God.

Regardless, those that study the practice, say that it’s no different to the parishioners, than taking Communion is to Catholics. Hmmm, I knew there was a reason I switched religions.

Praise The Lord And Pass The Snakes