Pinko Commie Cosmonaut!

Well, this proves it!

You scored as Communism. <'Imunimaginative's Deviantart Page'> Socialist 100% Communism 100% Green 67% Anarchism 58% Democrat 58% Fascism 17% Nazi 0% Republican 0% What Political Party Do Your Beliefs Put You In? created with QuizFarm.com

mother's day march

mother's day 3
Originally uploaded by Ravenmn.

Just uploaded a few pictures from last Saturday's Mother's Day march. It was a great turnout considering the drizzly weather. Also, it turns out there were two or three other progressive marches last weekend, so the antiwar movement had several choices to express their sentiments last weekend.

mother's day
Originally uploaded by Ravenmn.

My job for these events is to create the flyers (see below). Once I get to the event, my job is to do several crowd counts. This is not only to keep track of our own activities, but also to have some honest numbers for the press. Local news organizations got into big trouble for underestimating crowds several years ago and ever since then we've been building the reputation for honest reports on turnouts for our events. In the second picture, that red-draped figure in the background is me, after performing the third crowd count of the day. I was on my way to the front of the march so that I could do a count of people entering the church. As it turned out, there was only one reporter at the event. I called and spoke to her a couple of hours after the march and gave her my numbers. She agreed to the wording "over 250 participants" after I gave her all four counts.

Additions to the blogroll.

Today I've added one of my favorite blogs, Wood's Lot, to my blogroll. I've been reading this blog for several years. Every day there is at least one link that inspires and teaches me something. Yesterday there was a link to a Michelle Cliff article about reclaiming forgotten history. Fascinating story about the lies we tell ourselves about the past. Here is an excerpt:

How do we capture the history that remains only to be imagined? That which has gone to bush, lies under the sea, is buried in the vacant lots of big cities.

In my mind I erect a scaffolding; I attempt to describe what has not been described. I try to build a story on the most delicate of remains.

I traverse the American landscape as someone foreign-born, as a writer, a novelist, as a woman who has fallen in love with this country—certain that this love demands accountability. This love impels my search into America’s past.

Wood's Lot contains links to art, poetry, fiction and philosophy. Sometimes the subjects are way beyond my comprehension. Often I learn about painters, photographers and poets I've never known before. Often I am reminded of writers that have influenced me greatly (Joy Harjo, Michelle Cliff, etc.) and I find wonderful links to articles I haven't read before.

The second addition to my blogroll is Sappho's Breathing. The webmistress is a graduate student teacher of feminist moral philosophy. Lately I've been reading through her archives and coming upon topic after topic of interest.

Catching up now.

Last Saturday was the Mother's Day March for Peace. About 275 people showed up on a warm rainy day. There were songs and a reading of Juliet Ward Howe's Mother's Day proclamation at the Peace Garden, then a march over to a church for a snacks and a program. The program was terrific -- all women and all reflecting on the war and its effects. The first speaker, a teacher, spoke about the affect of the "No Child Left Behind" act and the lack of funding for schools. The second speaker has a son in Iraq and talked about war and its effects on her family. The last speaker was a state senator who immigrated from Laos and talked about war as it affected her own life. All were fantastic.

I got a call to work at the bookstore Saturday afternoon -- from 4 to 8. I picked up a stack of Andrea Dworkin books to reread.

Sunday we drove down to Mom's to enjoy a Mother's Day brunch together.

Yesterday I went to a program on Wal-Mart and its effects on workers and neighborhoods. One of the neighborhood activist was an architect whose viewpoint was from how buildings impact on a community. He spoke of the troubles the Midway neighborhood had trying to make sure the big box stores moving in had windows, lights, etc. They had to fight to encourage them to face the street with foot traffic and transit stops. The big boxes, born on freeway exits, still orient themselves toward the freeways, despite moving into urban areas that have different realities.

Today I'm catching up on chores and reading.

Baby owlet

Livecam1_owlcam_00488
Originally uploaded by Ravenmn.

Here's a shot of one of the baby owls from the Xcel center site (see link in post below this one). Momma is the huge mass on the right (both head and tail are out of frame). The second owlet is that furry white thing in the lower left corner. It's shots like this that make me smile.

I get an inordinate amount of enjoyment by watching live bird cams. Our local energy conglomerate has a slew of them at this site including nests for owls, eagles, osprey and several peregrine falcons. They are all roosting on eggs or taking care of babies this time of year. The owlets are just plain silly looking and make me laugh whenever I happen to get a good look at their faces!

Yesterday, I met with Craig Cox to pick up several copies of his book Storefront Revolution for the bookstore. His book is about the "co-op wars" in Minneapolis that happened just a few years before I became politically active here in the late 70s and early 80s. Co-ops are still around and still struggling, and people are curious to know more about the history.

After work I went over to the U of M to join in a student-organized protest against the new plan to phase out General College. Nine protesters were arrested after sitting in at the President's office. The issue is about class, pure and simple. General College is the only access that people from the community have to the University. The U wants to attract top research scientists from around the world, which is a worthy goal. But they've decided they must cut off access from the local community in order to do it.

Tonight, I went to St. Paul to hear Liza Featherstone talk about her book, Selling Women Short: The Landmark Battle for Women's Rights at Wal-Mart" at Macalester College in St. Paul. The author is not a gifted public speaker, but the book, of which I've read the first few chapters, is quite good. She's onto something with her analysis of consumer culture and what happens in a world where citizens are turned into consumers. More on this issue once I've finished reading the book.

I just finished reading A Walk in the Woods: Rediscovering America on the Appalachian Trail by Bill Bryson. I picked it up at my last book group meeting. It is a quick read and quite hilarious. Bryson decided to walk the Appalachian Trail one summer and his account of the event is hilarious. Not a champion athlete, he managed to plow through several hundred miles through sheer stubborness. In fact, the successful trail walkers seem to embody a combination of sheer grit and lunacy that would be out of place anywhere else in the world. I lived on the edge of the Appalachians when I went to college at Ohio University and I vaguely remember fantasizing about walking the Appalachian Trail. After reading the book, I recognize that the trail is a symbol of something purely American and wonderful -- the urge to appreciate nature, the willingness to help strangers, the code of the trail. With so little community left in this world, it is a joy to read about it in Bryson's book.

------

Yesterday, May 4, was the 35th anniversary of the Kent State massacre. I lived in Ohio in 1974 and the memory of that day was still alive at that time. In this day of cynicism, it is hard to understand how much that day affected people my age. We didn't realize just how callous our politicians had become. We didn't understand the depths to which Richard Nixon and his cronies would stoop to gratify their personal ambitions. Those soldiers who opened fire on their fellow citizens had been convinced by Gov. Rhodes, the mayor of Kent and the president of the University, that the innocent students they were firing at were evil infiltrators bent on destroying their way of life. Why did Rhodes and his gang stir up such hatred? Purely for their own personal political gain. They won, too, in the short term. But our country lost so much that day. I can't experience May 4 without feeling that draw -- that memory of betrayal and profound sadness.

And speaking of sadness, I am still profoundly affected by the death of Andrea Dworkin. 20 years ago I spent my life working day and night against violence against women. I understood then that there was a war against women in this world. The women in combat -- those on the front lines -- were living in a war unlike any we have glorified in our combined social conscience. The front line was the home -- the battle was between individual men and women. The personal is the political and once you are touched by that truth, there is no going back.

What Dworkin was then and will continue to be is an anchor for the rest of us. The horror of what happens to individual women at the hands of individual men in this country is sometimes incredibly hard to bear. But Dworkin bore it and refused to back away. She was our standard-bearer. She stood out front and suffered the slings and arrows -- the lies and distortion -- and never flinched. It made it easier for the rest of us, knowing that she was there, standing up for all of us. I want and I need to write more about this amazing woman.

In time. In time.

Ravenhub had me ROTFLMAO Saturday morning as he pretended to be a cable news reporter following the story of the "missing" woman who turned out to be a runaway bride. It had just been learned that she had not been kidnapped, there had been no danger or crime -- she just needed to get away -- and apparently VEGAS was the proper place (oi vey!)! As Ravenhub so aptly put it, the prestitutes went on and on about how "betrayed" they were. "I feel so used!" Ravenhub whined. "I've been violated!" he added. Yeah, right, you fuckheads!

In a totally unsurprising web meme, I discover that I am not a Republican:

I am: -12% Republican.

"The Marxists are too reactionary for you.  With people like you around, America collectively thanks God for John Ashcroft."

Are You A Republican?

I'm finally recovering from a busy weekend. Saturday I had a meeting of my book group, followed by my shift at the bookstore. Sunday was the annual Mayday Parade. This event is sponsored by In the Heart of the Beast Puppet Theater and involves large puppets, a parade made up of community members and lots of fun. From the web site:

The 31st annual MayDay Parade and Festival will be Sunday, May 1, 2005 beginning at 1:00 p.m.
HOBT's MayDay Parade and Festival is eagerly anticipated by thousands who flock to the parade route and ceremony site to join this joyous spring ritual. For many, this is the highlight of the year, as they donate countless volunteer hours needed to bring beautiful and fantastic puppets and floats to life.

The 31st annual MayDay Parade and Festival will be Sunday, May 1, 2005 beginning at 1:00 p.m. HOBT's MayDay Parade and Festival is eagerly anticipated by thousands who flock to the parade route and ceremony site to join this joyous spring ritual. For many, this is the highlight of the year, as they donate countless volunteer hours needed to bring beautiful and fantastic puppets and floats to life. Click here to see this year's MayDay Park Entertainment Schedule.

Held on the first Sunday in May, MayDay is a testament to COMMUNITY. Immense joy is generated as thousands of people work towards a common, energetic purpose.

After the puppets, various community organizations, etc., there is the Free Speech Zone in which politics can raise its ugly head. This year I marched with Women Against Military Madness and handed out the flyers I made for an anti-war protest on June 30. The weather was typical Minnesota "spring" weather: include snow, sleet, patches of sunlight, winds and rain. By the end of the day I was tired, but happy.

For dinner we went out to Stillwater where my uncle and aunt provided dinner. My mom was staying over, after flying back home from visiting my bros in California. A wonderful evening with family and friends.

05_06-30-05_Iraq

05_06-30-05_Iraq
Originally uploaded by Ravenmn.

Update to the flyer I did yesterday. The previous version had the date above the circle and under the ANTI-WAR PROTEST headline. Ravenhub missed the date -- especially with the time and location being below the circle. So I moved the date down with the rest of the location information. It's cool.

You Know You're From Minnesota When...

The weather is usually 80% of your conversation. When you say "down south" you're referring to Iowa. You call highways "freeways." Snow tires came standard on your car. You've never taken public transportation. 75% of your graduating high school class went to the University of Minnesota. "Perkins" was the only hangout option in high school. You assume when you say "The Cities" people know where you're talking about. You can list all the "-dales." People from other states love to hear you say words with "o"s in them. In a conversation you've heard someone say "yah sure, you betcha" and you didn't laugh. You could pinpoint exactly where each scene in the movie "Untamed Heart" was filmed. You hate the movie "Fargo" but realize you and your entire family have that same accent. You get mad at people who think Fargo is in Minnesota. You know what Mille Lacs is and how to spell it. You have fish boiled in lye for Christmas. You know what "uff-da" means and how to use it properly. You know the 2 sports-related reasons why we hate Dallas. Nothing gets you madder than seeing a Green Bay sticker on a MN car. The only reason you go to Wisconsin is to get fireworks. You're a loyal Target shopper. You've frozen your tongue on a metal handrail before. You own an ice house, a snowmobile, and a 4 wheel drive vehicle. You wear shorts when it's 50 degrees outside in March, but you bundle up and complain in August when it goes below 60. You have gone trick-or-treating in 3 feet of snow. You've not only walked across a lake, you've driven across one. Everyone you know has a cabin or, at least, access to one. You know that Lake Wobegon isn't real and you know who made it up, where they live, and exactly what you want to do about it. You have friends who schedule their wedding in the middle of January without a thought about weather conditions. You consider a six inch snowfall a blessing for "the cities" because it provides instant urban renewal. You keep the snow tires on your truck all year because it ain't worth taking them off for only two months. Your local Dairy Queen is closed from December through February. You believe the only REAL vehicles have skis in front and a loud motor under your seat. You consider snow banks to be "just another rough" on the golf course. You have worn shorts and a parka at the same time. You were delighted to get a miniature snow shovel for your 3rd birthday. Your town isn't trying to be ironic when it plans a "winter carnival." The temperature in March is above freezing for three days in a row, and you think it's summer. You laugh out loud every time you see a news report about a blizzard shutting down the entire East Coast. You think happiness is owning a "piece of lakeshore." You never meet any celebrities except The "BODY" You know what and where "Dinkytown" is. When you talk about "opener" you are not talking about cans. You have refused to buy something because it's too "spendy." You believe that the Vikings would have won four Super Bowls by now if they were still playing in Metropolitan Stadium. You are convinced the Twins will never win the pennant because the owners are too cheap to pay the good players, so they all leave. Your town has an equal number of bars and churches. You grew up thinking rice was only for dessert. You think that ketchup is a little too spicy. Your gas station thinks "full service" means filling your gas tank, washing the windshield, checking the oil and being friendly to the customers. You (or your parents) voted for Mondale. You've seen "The Rocky Horror Picture Show" in Uptown. You know that everyone has a city preference -- Minneapolis or St. Paul. You can honestly claim Germanic / Scandinavian ancestors, and have been known to say "ya" instead of "yes" Upon seeing an ocean for the first time, you say, "Hey! That looks like Lake Superior!" You actually get these jokes and pass them on to other friends from Minnesota.

Get Your Own "You Know You're From" Meme Here



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Blogthings

05_06-30-05_Iraq

05_06-30-05_Iraq
Originally uploaded by Ravenmn.

Another flyer for another anti-war event. Big doings this weekend, including the Mayday march, so we needed to get the word out.

The Iraq: end the occupation NOW! is a type treatment on a button I found on the web. Maybe I can make larger signs as well.

Enjoy!

Oy vey! This is where the intellectual mafia hangs out and tries to meet each other: The London Review of Books personals:

Example:

Woman, 43, would like to meet a man – any man – whose evolutionary path isn’t that of Homer Simpson. Suspecting that’s too difficult, I may go lesbian. Box no. 08/10

Bi-zarre! I love to challenge my mind and will subject myself to more extreme levels of intellectual hair splitting than most people I know. But there are times when I can clearly see the vast gulf between my life and the life of an academic intellectual! :)

On the other hand, I have greater respect for those who can skillfully executive various crafts: including skillful operation of a machine lathe, skillful manipulation of a bandsaw, and/or skillful execution of graphic design through digital means. Which brings me to a great series of events in St. Paul.

The St. Paul Public Library's series: Untold Stories is a free program celebrating Labor History Month. Unfortunately, there doesn't seem to be a calendar of events on-line. I have a printed copy that I will retype if I can't find a decent link. The first event is Thursday, May 5, so there's time.

On a sad note, I went to a memorial service for a local activist who recently died of breast cancer. Damn, that makes me angry. She was good people. The service was distinctly odd: focusing only on a portion of her life and neglecting to encompass the entire life of goodness and activism that was Mary. It was very strange. I am quite sure she's raising a ruckus wherever she is today.

For sheer joy of life, I copy here, for those without access to the L.A. Times, a great

story about a street poet:

April 21, 2005

COLUMN ONE

Happy to Feed 'Em a Line

Whether reading for old ladies or young radicals, poet Colin McIlvoy keeps the meter running on the streets of San Francisco.
 
By John M. Glionna, Times Staff Writer

SAN FRANCISCO — Old ladies prefer love poems. They stand frozen on the sidewalk staring into space as though listening to faraway music, letting Colin McIlvoy's spoken imagery wash over them like whispered compliments.

To a 60ish woman wearing a purple hat, he reads the Margaret Atwood charmer "Variations on the Word Love":
  
 … This word is far too short for us, it has only four letters, too sparse to fill those deep bare vacuums between the stars that press on us with their deafness.

The woman announces that her knees are weak.

"Read it again," she says. "Once is not enough."

McIlvoy knows his audience. He knows that mothers and daughters like nature themes and will wait quietly through a five-stanza walk in the woods. He knows young radicals want shock treatment, outlaw verse with hip-hop immediacy. Hammer me, they say, with a bruising blow. Or an insult.

And McIlvoy complies. On days off from a community organizing job, the 20-year-old New Mexico native packs a dozen dog-eared tomes into an oblong red toolbox and takes to the street. He assumes a spot in a middle-class neighborhood called West Portal Village, just over the hill but a world away from counterculture Haight-Ashbury, where poets and philosophers rule the roost.

Outside a Charles Schwab brokerage office, he posts a sign announcing that all his offerings are free. Then he patiently solicits passersby to disengage from their cellphones and big-city routines and appreciate an all-but-forgotten public art form.

"Like to hear a poem?" he asks. "It's not a very long poem."

People pass as though hypnotized, their eyes downcast, shoulders tense. A few make eye contact, but most shake their heads.

"You sure?" he says to a dog-walker. "How can you turn down free poetry?"

"No time," the man says.

"I'm very, very busy," says a woman in a stoplight-red jacket.

One person in 10 stops, like the lady with a leopard-skin purse who pauses for Pablo Neruda's "Ode to My Socks."

As McIlvoy reads, he looks up to catch the woman's eye, sharing a private moment on a public street, before resubmerging into the ocean of words:

The moral of my ode is this: beauty is twice beauty and what is good is doubly good when it is a matter of two socks made of wool in winter.

"That's lovely," she says.

The troubadour sees opportunity. "Want to hear another?"

She hesitates. "Why are you doing this?"

"No one reads poetry anymore," he responds. "I want people to have poetry in their day. It's a hobby. People build model airplanes. I read poems."

He writes them as well. But McIlvoy — who calls himself Mack — never reads his own work. Instead, on an average day, he'll read 40 poems by contemporary stylists such as John Updike, Billy Collins, Rebecca Bagget and Heather McHugh.

McIlvoy is no poetry jukebox. He reads poems he likes. Sometimes he'll even offer to feed a listener's parking meter to win a few more moments. He takes the occasional request, like from the woman who asks: "Hey, you got something to do with wisdom? I need a wisdom fix."

There's no artistic pretense to McIlvoy's poetry performances — no pseudo-beatnik berets or bohemian dress. He drives a decidedly un-hip white Oldsmobile with Illinois plates his grandmother willed him. He wears Oxford shirts, and his hair is cut schoolboy short. Many people assume he's a missionary.

Sometimes, the poet hits his mark — as he does with the woman who rushes past mumbling before wheeling about to hear two poems.

"I can't believe I just said 'No' to a poem," confesses Cecelia Wambach. The college math teacher is leaving for Prague and is crazy with final details. But how can anyone, she asks, be too hectic for a quiet moment?

"We run the globe with glazed eyes but don't have time for each other," she says. "I almost walked past a free poem. But I want to change. This is a start."

------------------------------------------------------------------------

McIlvoy has a strict rule for the 100 poems in his street-reading repertoire. He likes them short, never abstract. Funny or sad, they must hit home instantly, like breaking news.

The son of a novelist father and a psychologist mother, McIlvoy began making up poems before he could spell. He winces over how poetry is taught in school, where works chosen for analysis are too often dense and make most teens view poetry as they would Latin: as a dead language.

After studying architecture at the California College of the Arts in San Francisco, he canvassed in 2004 for presidential candidate John F. Kerry. For months, he went door to door asking for campaign contributions. He stood on street corners and hit up passersby. All the while, he read verse to fellow campaign workers.

"I have this bad habit," McIlvoy says. "If I'm around my friends long enough, they all know that eventually they're going to hear a poem."

------------------------------------------------------------------------

His curbside readings began last November, when he read bursts of verse to friends canvassing for an environmental cause in West Portal. He also stopped a few strangers and found he liked engaging people with poetry. Canvassing made him practiced in the art of the sell, prompting a name for his endeavor: the poetry canvass.

The poetry reader has taken his verse across San Francisco. In pricey Pacific Heights, he's knocked on doors, saying, "My name is Mack. I don't represent any group, and I don't want your money. I just want to read you a poem, and then I'll go."

He has also read poems in Bayview Hunters Point, the city's poorest neighborhood — once approaching five youths throwing dice on a staircase. From "The Outlaw Bible of American Poetry," he read "I Am the Bomb" by Mike M. Mollett:

I am most wise.

I play for keeps.

I am the unimaginable.

I have not been created for nothing.

When he finished, McIlvoy recalls, nobody said anything. The poet turned to leave.

"That's cool," one kid said, not looking up. "Read another."

McIlvoy follows a long tradition of believers spreading the word on poetry. Experts know what he's up against.

"Poetry is the poor little match girl of the arts, but at least that girl was selling something useful: a match that can light a cigar," says Billy Collins, a two-time poet laureate of the United States. "But what do you do with a poem? It's useless. That's why some people love it and some people scratch their heads: Why do they need it?"

Collins has pushed to publish verse on buses and subways and persuaded an airline to briefly feature an in-flight poetry channel: "To read poetry is to join the community of human feelers, because a guy writing an Italian Renaissance poem felt exactly what you feel when a girl leaves you."

Yet even a poet laureate sees limits for the art form's mass appeal. "Lots of cool things have small audiences," he says. "Like jazz and collecting tropical fish."

Still, Collins applauds McIlvoy's guerrilla tactics. "He's ambushing people, and I'm all for that: poetry coming out of unexpected places. I like the way he apprehends people. Like a stickup man."

------------------------------------------------------------------------

McIlvoy performs in a culture with too little privacy, where solicitors hassle people at home and on the street. Some see his act as just more public noise.

He describes how, when he approached a couple, a woman snapped: "Can't you see we're here talking to people we really want to be talking to!"

Another woman climbed into her BMW and observed: "You know, this really isn't working out for you. You need to get a life."

Others welcome the intrusion. Liz Burnham, 42, who works three jobs yet describes herself as an "anti-establishment slacker who walks on the beach and does a lot of yoga," recites for McIlvoy one of her own works: a heroin-related riff on a nursery rhyme she calls "Mary Had a Little Smack."

Then she adds sheepishly: "That was a bit too punk, huh?"

McIlvoy meets people with too little time — and too much. A homeless man with unruly blond hair heckles him regularly. "He hated the poem I read him," McIlvoy says. "He insists that I should be reading Shakespeare."

A college theater major complained that his readings showed too little passion. Still in the thrall of a McIlvoy love poem, a woman returned with a valentine. When a streetcar passed, drowning out a poem, George Shoblo wanted to hear it again.

"I've always got time for a poem, that's just me," says the 63-year-old hairdresser. "God gives you unique little experiences. It's as simple as that."

McIlvoy is still learning to read his audience. As he was reciting nature verse to a 9-year-old girl and her mother, he said, the child pointed to a John Updike work called "Dog's Death."

McIlvoy advised against the poem, saying it dealt with sadness and loss. "You won't like it," he said.

The girl insisted. So McIlvoy read — he and the mother finally fighting back tears.

In the car to the vet's, on my lap, she tried

To bite my hand and died.

I stroked her warm fur

And my wife called in a voice imperious with tears.

Though surrounded by love that would have upheld her,

Nevertheless she sank and, stiffening, disappeared.

McIlvoy said that when he was through, the girl looked at him and sighed. She said she loved the poem.

Your Inner European is French!

Smart and sophisticated. You have the best of everything - at least, *you* think so.

Who's Your Inner European?

"Habemos Popa."

After a week of deathwatch for John Paul II, a week of funeral ceremonies, and a couple of days of conclave, a new pope has been named. The word is Pope Benedict XVI is conservative, hardline and a blast from the 18th Century. Same old same old.

Our entire media has been "All Pope, All The Time" for weeks now -- which is all out of proportion to the amount of Catholics in the U.S., in the world, etc. Why all the attention? Have we all become religious? Have Catholic values become "common sense"?

Nope. It's all about power. The old guy had power and the new guy will have power. How that power is translated into the world is of concern to world leaders. But is it going to make any difference in your life or mine? Not hardly.

I've spent the last few days reading Cynthia Enloe. She's terrific at questioning assumptions and examining power relations. Reading about feminist analysis of world events while watching this uber-masculine Vatican spectacle has been a curious experience. When you look at the amazing Catholic clergy who have made a profound difference in the world: people like Archbishop Oscar Romero, you can see that not one of them was represented at the College of Cardinals. A bunch of bureacrats picking the head bureacrat. And we have to see this on the news day after day.

Forecast is for another week of this obsession, until Benedict is formerly installed, and then the media can go back to its regularly scheduled spectacles. Praise be.

I attended a local conference called Globalization, Modernities and Violence on Friday and Saturday and my mind became filled to the brim with interesting perspectives, ideas and hope. Speakers included: Cynthia Enloe, Rashid Khalidi, Naomi Klein, Mahmood Mamdani, Vandana Shiva. If you visit the conference site, you can download whole chapters from the speaker's books to get a feel for the fantastic thinking these people bring to questions of international relations. The conference was well-attended, despite the unfortunate name. It sounds like postmodern mumbo jumbo. I'll try to write more later and provide links. The people I had read the least: Mamdani and Enloe, turned out to fascinate me the most. So I will have to do more research.

I was up late last night thinking and reading. Today I have been napping pretty much all day. Finally, I convinced Ravenhub to go for a walk with me just as the sun was setting so I hadn't wasted the entire day. It's a warm, calm night after all-day rain yesterday. The trees are just about to burst out in their finest green dress. For the past couple of days they've been in that bizarre state that allows us to still see the brown and black skeletons, but the tips of the branches have their first open buds of bright green. Instead of looking black or green, the trees look blurry. With the rain and warm temperatures, the transformation will take place this week and winter will be a memory.

Last weekend was very busy. On Friday I saw the play "In the Mirror" by Pangea Theater. It was directed by Dupankar Mukherjee, the man who directed a play I was in last year. The play examined media, but not in the superficial ways that have become popular in the blog word: love/hate Dan Rather, celebrity profiling, etc. There's a pretty good review here. I enjoyed the show and it has stayed with me over the past couple of days. Not bad for a couple of hours on a Friday night.

Saturday night and Sunday I went to events sponsored by Veterans for Peace. The local chapter brought in one of the co-founders of Iraq Veterans Against the War. Jimmy Massey spoke about his years in the Marines. It brought up memories of talks I'd had with returning Vietnam War veterans 30 years ago. Massey wanted to talk less about Iraq and more about his overall experiences in the Marines and how those experiences had led him to distrust the military altogether. He especially needed to talk about his years as a recruiter and some of the underhanded techniques he used to meet his quota of recruits.

The audience, I suspect, wanted to hear more about Iraq and his experiences there. However, when veterans start to talk and reason out their experiences, it seldoms results in discussion that meet the needs of the audience. Soldiers need to talk -- they have to talk -- about what they have learned and what they have experienced. And I am torn between wanting to help this one man heal and wanting to know that his story can help somebody else come to understand what is happening in Iraq and what the soldiers are dealing with over there. I want his talk to motivate people to get active and to do whatever they can to bring this occupation of Iraq to a close. We're not there yet. But Jimmy Massey does have important things to say. Readd more about Iraq Veterans Aginst the War here.

Also, I've been reading about Andrea Dworkin, the feminist, who died last Friday. She was an amazing fighter for women who had suffered violence in a world that tolerates violence against women. A memorial site is here and does a great job of describing the effect she and her writing had on women around the world. She allowed herself to become a stereotype of the angry feminist in order to remind the world that the violence continues and that much of our culture still glorifies the victimization of women. Many blogs linked to a comment posted on Susie Bright's blog about Dworkin. I was disgusted by how many commenters posted about the way Dworkin looked. She was hairy and fat in comparison to our culture's absurd standards. So the fuck what? Why is her appearance fodder for commentary, even in her obituaries? Bah!

Dworkin made the world stand up and look at itself and the war that continues against women throughout the world. We have come a long way since the days when women were expected to stay home and shut up. And yet, there is still much to do. More than a million women currently live in sexual slavery. We are still living in a world where one in four women suffer sexual abuse in their lives. Dworkin wrote about this world and her words deserve to be read and read again.

Early in life, I attended the Universalist Church with my family. This was a good fit for my family. My father was a German Jew, adopted by American Socialists (followers of E.G. Debs). My mother was raised in a Congregationalist church and wasn't particularly Christian. The Universalists believed in Universal Salvation. They believed that God wasn't picky -- that he'd take everybody. The Universalists fought for civil rights long before it became popular. However, in the 60s (??), the Universalists joined with the Unitarians -- a Christian but very liberal faith. We moved, several times, and ended up in a town small enough that it had no Unitarian-Universalist Church. It did have a Unitarian Fellowship. Which was a convenient place for local Jews to congregate as well. Otherwise they had to travel 80 miles to the nearest synagogue. The Fellowship had volunteer leaders every week and celebrated holidays of several different religions. Because it was largely made up of professors and workers at the local university, the place closed for Christmas, since most members would go out of town to visit relatives.

The benefit of my "religious" upbringing is that I have learned several Unitarian jokes. To wit:

I was brought up by Unitarians. We were taught to follow the Ten Suggestions.

AND

News reports warned residents to look out for roving bands of Unitarians burning questions marks on people's lawns.

AND

What do you get when you cross a Unitarian and a Jehovah's Witness? You get somebody who will knock on your door for no reason at all.

I am reminded of this by a link I received to an article at SFGate.com:

Column by JON CARROLL

Friday, April 8, 2005

The following is the first communique from a group calling itself Unitarian Jihad. It was sent to me at The Chronicle via an anonymous spam remailer. I have no idea whether other news organizations have received this communique, and, if so, why they have not chosen to print it. Perhaps they fear starting a panic. I feel strongly that the truth, no matter how alarming, trivial or disgusting, must always be told. I am pleased to report that the words below are at least not disgusting:

Greetings to the Imprisoned Citizens of the United States. We are Unitarian Jihad. There is only God, unless there is more than one God. The vote of our God subcommittee is 10-8 in favor of one God, with two abstentions. Brother Flaming Sword of Moderation noted the possibility of there being no God at all, and his objection was noted with love by the secretary.

Greetings to the Imprisoned Citizens of the United States! Too long has your attention been waylaid by the bright baubles of extremist thought. Too long have fundamentalist yahoos of all religions (except Buddhism -- 14-5 vote, no abstentions, fundamentalism subcommittee) made your head hurt. Too long have you been buffeted by angry people who think that God talks to them. You have a right to your moderation! You have the power to be calm! We will use the IED of truth to explode the SUV of dogmatic expression!

People of the United States, why is everyone yelling at you??? Whatever happened to ... you know, everything? Why is the news dominated by nutballs saying that the Ten Commandments have to be tattooed inside the eyelids of every American, or that Allah has told them to kill Americans in order to rid the world of Satan, or that Yahweh has instructed them to go live wherever they feel like, or that Shiva thinks bombing mosques is a great idea? Sister Immaculate Dagger of Peace notes for the record that we mean no disrespect to Jews, Muslims, Christians or Hindus. Referred back to the committee of the whole for further discussion.

We are Unitarian Jihad. We are everywhere. We have not been born again, nor have we sworn a blood oath. We do not think that God cares what we read, what we eat or whom we sleep with. Brother Neutron Bomb of Serenity notes for the record that he does not have a moral code but is nevertheless a good person, and Unexalted Leader Garrote of Forgiveness stipulates that Brother Neutron Bomb of Serenity is a good person, and this is to be reflected in the minutes.

Beware! Unless you people shut up and begin acting like grown-ups with brains enough to understand the difference between political belief and personal faith, the Unitarian Jihad will begin a series of terrorist-like actions. We will take over television studios, kidnap so-called commentators and broadcast calm, well-reasoned discussions of the issues of the day. We will not try for "balance" by hiring fruitcakes; we will try for balance by hiring non-ideologues who have carefully thought through the issues.

We are Unitarian Jihad. We will appear in public places and require people to shake hands with each other. (Sister Hand Grenade of Love suggested that we institute a terror regime of mandatory hugging, but her motion was not formally introduced because of lack of a quorum.) We will require all lobbyists, spokesmen and campaign managers to dress like trout in public. Televangelists will be forced to take jobs as Xerox repair specialists. Demagogues of all stripes will be required to read Proust out loud in prisons.

We are Unitarian Jihad, and our motto is: "Sincerity is not enough." We have heard from enough sincere people to last a lifetime already. Just because you believe it's true doesn't make it true. Just because your motives are pure doesn't mean you are not doing harm. Get a dog, or comfort someone in a nursing home, or just feed the birds in the park. Play basketball. Lighten up. The world is not out to get you, except in the sense that the world is out to get everyone.

Brother Gatling Gun of Patience notes that he's pretty sure the world is out to get him because everyone laughs when he says he is a Unitarian. There were murmurs of assent around the room, and someone suggested that we buy some Congress members and really stick it to the Baptists. But this was deemed against Revolutionary Principles, and Brother Gatling Gun of Patience was remanded to the Sunday Flowers and Banners committee.

People of the United States! We are Unitarian Jihad! We can strike without warning. Pockets of reasonableness and harmony will appear as if from nowhere! Nice people will run the government again! There will be coffee and cookies in the Gandhi Room after the revolution.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
Startling new underground group spreads lack of panic! Citizens declare themselves "relatively unafraid" of threats of undeclared rationality. People can still go to France, terrorist leader says.

Michael row the boat ashore, and then get some of the local kids to pull the boat onto the dock, and come visit with jcarroll@sfchronicle.com.

Recent reading:

Blink by Malcom Gladwell. This book has gotten a lot of press. From the author's website: "It's a book about rapid cognition, about the kind of thinking that happens in a blink of an eye." For me, the book was a padded-out magazine article. He talks about how our first impressions often get to the truth more directly than prolonged thinking. He also talks about how our first impressions often are biased due to our prejudices and assumptions. He makes no effort to explain the difference, which is pretty much the very next question any intelligent person would ask given these facts. He does say that we can train ourselves to recognize when our first impressions are based on information we gather so quickly that we are not able to explain why we react. But he doesn't say how, why, or when. He highlights people who have this skill, but treats them as if they were freaks of nature. Mostly, it's not a good book.

Monster: Living Off the Big Screen is a short book by John Gregory Dunne. It's about the process he and his wife, Joan Didion, went through as screenwriters for the movie, "Up Close and Personal", which started out to be about Jessica Savitch, a television reporter who died young and led a crazed life. The movie ended up being a star-based movie for Robert Redford and Michelle Pfeiffer, having little to do with the original book. Dunne describes the long process a script goes through: the many changes in producers, directors, actors, executives, writers and agents. By the end of the book, I was surprised any movie gets made. Yet Dunne and Didion seem to enjoy this bizarre way of living. Dunne is as much a name-dropper as his brother Dominick Dunne, who makes his living these days simply by publishing his personal celebrity sluttery in Vanity Fair magazine. "Monster" has that familiar Dunne-like, "I know all these people who are far too classy to brag about knowing all these people." I first heard about this book many years ago when it was touted as one of the best books to read to understand how the film industry works. J.G. Dunne has another book called "The Studio" that is purported to be equally revealing.

Whenever I read this sort of thing I have to wonder how all those people would handle holding down a real job at the Ford plant or in a canning factory. Not very well, I presume. The thing is, Hollywood is full of real workers: the grunts who work construction, sound, catering -- all sorts of jobs that are relatively boring and require skills and dedication. Unlike people like me, the lives of their bosses get publicized all over the tabloids and the "news" broadcasts. I wonder how the rest of us could handle knowing just how silly and absurd the personal and professional activities of our own bosses are. Seriously, it's best not to know!

04-10-05_Iraq_Vet

04-10-05_Iraq_Vet
Originally uploaded by Ravenmn.

Here's a flyer I was happy to create. Coming up this weekend: a visit from one of the founders of Iraq War Veterans against the War. Massey was interviewed by the local free paper, The Pulse, and I'll copy the article here since it's worth the read:

Thursday 07 April @ 03:58:41

Soldier of Conscience

Returning Iraq veteran says U.S. is committing â??genocideâ??

by Bert Berlowe

There was a time, not long ago, when Jimmy Massey believed in war. For 12 years, he was a self-described â??gung-hoâ?? Marine Corps officer, recruiter and boot camp instructor, leading fellow Marines through the most grueling of military indoctrinations. As he once said, â??boot camp is designed to dehumanize and desensitize a person to violence.â??

Even as he recruited others to go to war, Massey began to question the Marinesâ?? methods, taking advantage of economically depressed youth by misleading them on the benefits of military service. His recruiting career ended when he wrote to his commanding officer, outlining his personal concerns about the enlistment process.

In March 2003, Massey went into Iraq as part of the initial U.S. invasion. He was put in charge of a platoon of machine gunners assigned to secure roadways in Iraq. In that capacity, he both witnessed and participated in the killing of many innocent civilians. The impact of that combat turned him against the war.

After complaining to his superiors about the roadside carnage, Massey was shipped out of Iraq and diagnosed with post-traumatic stress disorder. He also claimed conscientious objector status. He was given an honorable discharge from the Marines in December 2003.

Since leaving the service, the North Carolina native has been touring the country speaking out against the Iraq War and has written a yet-to-be published book on his experiences, called â??Cowboys From Hell.â?? He plans to use the proceeds from the book to start a post-traumatic stress disorder foundation.

Massey is a founding member of Iraq Veterans Against the War (IVAW), established in early 2004 by Mike Hoffman and Tim Goodrich, who met at a Dover, Delaware, to Washington, D.C., peace march. The organization made its official debut during the Veterans for Peace national convention in Boston in July. Since then, it has joined with other anti-war groups to demand an end to U.S. military involvement in Iraq.

These organizations are leaders in a rapidly growing movement of military personnel who are leaving their posts in protest. Some have fled to Canada or into anonymity. Others, like Massey, are traveling widely, speaking out against the war and U.S. military policy.

Next weekend, Massey will be the featured guest at three gatherings sponsored by Minnesota Veterans for Peace and the Iraq Peace Action Coalition. Co-sponsors include the Anti-War Committee, First Unitarian Society, Twin Cities Peace Campaign-Focus on Iraq, St. Joan of Arc Peacemakers, Women Against Miltary Madness and others.

Massey will be making three appearances in Minneapolis this weekend. On Friday, April 8 at 7 p.m., he will be the featured guest at a fundraising reception and social gathering at the CWA Local 722 Union Hall (3521 E. Lake St. Songwriter and Vietnam veteran Jerry Rau will perform. Suggested minimum donation is $10. On Saturday, April 9, Massey will be the guest speaker at the Vets for Peace annual meeting at 7 p.m. at the St. Stephens School and Community Center, 2123 Clinton Ave. S. On Sunday, April 10, Massey will speak at the First Unitarian Society, 900 Mount Curve Ave. The free event begins at 3 p.m. and features music by local musician â??Popâ?? Wagner and readings by local writers. The public may attend free of charge.

Pulse: I understand that you have been on the road recently doing speaking engagements, prior to your upcoming visit to Minneapolis this weekend. Where have you been travelling?
 
Massey: I have been in some New England states and will be going to Michigan, Iowa and Minnesota. I am speaking primarily at colleges, universities and high schools.
 
Pulse: What do you tell people in your speeches?

Massey: I talk about my experiences in Iraq, but also about the economic conscript of working class youth into the military. For a lot of kids getting ready to graduate high school, the military looks pretty good, because their families have no money to send them to college. They are at a point in their lives where they donâ??t have many options and are susceptible to recruiters. The recruiters convince 19- to 25-year-olds who canâ??t get a good job that they can get job skills in the military.
 
Pulse: What kind of a reaction do you get?
 
Massey: I have been getting a good response. I donâ??t tell them not to enlist. I encourage them to make their own choice and give them the information they need to make it. Many of the kids have been already approached by recruiters, so they know what Iâ??m talking about. In some cases, Iâ??m reinforcing what they already knew. I am encouraged by the anti-recruitment campaigns some students are doing on their campuses to counter the recruiters.
 
Pulse: When did you enlist in the Marines, and why?
 
Massey: I enlisted in 1992. I was a 19-year-old senior in high school in New Orleans. My stepfather had lost his job and didnâ??t have the money to send me to college, so I dropped out. I was working as a tool head but then I discovered Bourbon Street. I lost my job and apartment and my car broke down. I was homelessâ??living in a park and on the street for about a month. Then one day, I came across a Marine recruiter while he was pumping gas into his car. He took me to lunch. He told me that I needed self-discipline and said I could get that in the Marine Corps. He challenged me to do that. I called my mom collect and then rode the Greyhound bus to visit her. She had come from the Vietnam War era and was supportive of the military. She didnâ??t encourage me to join, but she didnâ??t discourage me either. She just said that once I got in the marines to do what I was told to do.
 
Pulse: What was your military training and experience prior to going to Iraq?
 
Massey: I went to boot camp at Camp Pendleton where I literally got the shit beat out of me within the first several months. Boot camp is designed to dehumanize and desensitize a person to violence. If you donâ??t conform, they beat you up. When I had a bad day, I got taken aside and beat up. When youâ??re in the military, itâ??s a lot like being in a Mafia family. You donâ??t step outside the family. If you break away from the family, theyâ??re going to do whatever they can to keep you quiet. After boot camp, I served in the Marines for 10 years in the United States before being sent to Kuwait. I was a recruiter and boot camp instructor. My career as a recruiter ended when I wrote a mission statement to the commanding officers, expressing my personal concerns with the issues of recruitment. But no one listened.
 
Pulse: When were you sent to Iraq? What did you think or expect would happen there?
 
Massey: I was sent to Kuwait on January 19, 2003, and to Iraq on March 22. I was a gung-ho Marine. I thought we were doing the right thing. We were told that Saddam [Hussein] had weapons of mass destruction. I knew, from reading Iraq history, about Americaâ??s history of supporting Saddam as a dictator, that he had treated his people cruelly, and that we were to â??take him out.â??

It was pretty evident when, eight months before we even left to go to Kuwait, the Marines were training to shut down and take over the Ar Rumaylah oil fields. We had detailed schematics and terrain models of all the oil fields outside of Basra, and once we took care of those, all that was left was the ride into Baghdad.
I also was coming into contact with groups like the War Resisterâ??s League while I was out on recruitment duty. I started reading some of the literature they were handing out at high schools. I became curious and started doing my own research, finding out certain things about Americaâ??s involvement in other countries. I knew about our imperialistic and political intentions.
 
Pulse: What happened once you got into Iraq?
 
Massey: The first time I came under fire, we were moving north in a group when our vehicle was attacked. We jumped out of our vehicle and returned fire. They ran away. It all lasted five or six seconds. I just assumed that they were enemy forces, some kind of gang, sort of like the Crips in America. We were like a bunch of cowboys who rode into town shooting up the place. I saw charred bodies in vehicles that were clearly not from the military.

There wasnâ??t a whole lot of direct fighting to speak of. There were some firefights â??I mean I had bullet holes in the side of my Humveeâ??but it wasnâ??t like major combat action. We took the highway the whole way to Baghdad. They had no artillery, no air support. They were weakened by the sanctions. Most of their hardware was leftover from the war against Iran. The first Gulf War had devastated them. I donâ??t think they had the will or the opportunity to fight.

As far as Iâ??m concerned, the real war did not begin until the Iraqis saw us murdering innocent civilians. There were two incidents that turned me against the war. The first was my experience with recruitment. The second was when I was stationed with a machine gunner guarding the checkpoints that came in and out of Baghdad. We were to give hand signals to moving vehicles and if they didnâ??t [respond], we assumed they had ammunition that would go off, so we â??lit them up.â??

(But) they were innocent civilians. We found no weapons, no explosivesâ??nothing. Somehow, I donâ??t know how he could have done it, but one guy got out of a car we had â??lit upâ?? and wasnâ??t badly wounded. It turns out he was the brother of another man in the car who had been killed. He looked at me and asked, â??Why did you kill my brother? What did he do to you?â?? That hit me like a ton of bricks.

All told, I was involved in five checkpoint â??light-ups.â?? We even once lit up a rally of civilians after we heard a gunshot. They were young Iraqis with no weapons.

There were 30-plus civilians killed over two days at those checkpoints. The military wouldnâ??t make a distinction between what they call â??collateral damageâ?? and murder. I said that if it happens once, itâ??s collateral damage; after that, itâ??s murder. The bottom line is that [commanders] donâ??t see the need to teach culture and humanity to men whose singular purpose is to kill.

I killed innocent people for our government, for what? What is the good coming out of it? I feel like Iâ??ve taken part in some sort of evil lie created by our government. I just feel embarrassed, ashamed about it.
 
Pulse: When you became so concerned about shooting innocent civilians, what did you do about it?
 
Massey: I went to my commanding officer and said, â??If you want my honest opinion, sir, we are committing genocide over here.â?? He just made my job more difficult, giving me extra work to do. Later, I was basically put under house arrest. There were other Marines who were afraid to speak out who would tell me, privately, that they supported me.
 
Pulse: I read in one of your previous interviews that you developed post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD) during the war. When did that happen and what was it like?
 
Massey: While I was in combat in Iraq, I began having the symptoms of PTSDâ??nightmares, flashbacks, agitation, jumping at any crackling sound. I didnâ??t know what it was at the time. Finally, I went to see a psychiatrist. At our first appointment, he said, â??Youâ??re a conscientious objector.â?? I said, â??How can I be a conscientious objector when Iâ??ve killed people?â??

Initially, they tried to trick me into staying until retirement. I told the Sergeant Major â??I donâ??t want your retirement and I donâ??t want your benefits. We killed innocent civilians and you have to face that responsibility, and Iâ??m going to tell everyone what happened.â?? I remember his face turned red and he said that there was going to be legal repercussions. I later contacted a lawyer, Gary Meyers, whose practice dates back to the My Lai trials during the Vietnam War. In the end, they backed down. There was no trial, and I was given an honorary discharge.
 
Pulse: Do you still have PTSD?
 
Massey: Yes, Iâ??m getting treated for it now.
 
Pulse: Tell me about your plans for a PTSD foundation.
 
Massey: I am currently publishing a book about my experiences called â??Cowboys From Hell.â?? All of the proceeds will go to setting up the foundation.
  
Pulse: What do you think should be done now about the Iraq war?
 
Massey: Iâ??m for total withdrawal of all U.S. troops immediately. Then, we should help pay for the reconstruction of Iraq.
 
Pulse: What do you plan to do after this trip?
 
Massey: I keep hanging on to the one thing my grandfather used to say to me: â??The truth shall set you free.â?? Iâ??ll keep talking as long as people listen.

It's been a busy week and I haven't blogged. A week is like an eternity in blog time! Mea culpa.

I've been running around from 8 a.m. this morning. Drove 160 miles and ended up back where I started. Worked, attended meetings, talked politics and came home.

More tomorrow.

Tonight I attended the first public meeting of the Metro Independent Business Alliance. It's an interesting concept: supporting locally owned independent business as opposed to the huge chain stores. I signed up, even though it meant consorting with evil profit-motivated small business owners. :-0!!!! At least I managed to convince the organizers to halve the membership fee for nonprofits and co-ops. Whoopie!

Today, Terry Schaivo finally passed over after 15 years in a vegetative state. The media circus surrounding this situation has been outrageous. This poor woman's parents have turned what should be a personal, private situation into a dog and pony show to support their political agenda. For the life of me, I will never understand those people who support a set of parents who have stated, for the record, that they have absolutely no obligation or concern about their daughter's personal opinions.

My understanding of parenthood is that it is a duty, not a property right. My beautiful grown-up daughters are not my private property to do with as I see fit. They are individuals with rights and responsibilities like all other citizens. My privilege of directing their personal decisions ended when they became responsible, intelligent adults. I may not agree with their choices, but that isn't their problem; it's mine. Those people who would turn TS's vegetative body over to a set of parents who see nothing wrong with parading their personal family struggles in front of the national media day in and day out, have got to be friggin' morons.

Sox

Sox
Originally uploaded by Ravenmn.

I don't remember why we decided that our daughters could have their "own" cats. Fruitbat was mine and Squeak was Ravenhub's. Somehow it seemed fair to let the girls pick out a cat of their own.

We went to a humane society adoption event and Sox was youngest Ravendaughter's choice. Sox is a cat who decided to get along with everyone and let nothing bother her too much. Ravendaughter moved out of the house, but Sox stayed on.

She has claimed the upstairs as her own. She waits for the first sign of wakefulness from either of us and then proceeds to demand her morning petting. This involves prancing around and then flopping (plop!) upon her side while we pet whatever part of her body she presents to us.

Sox has the voice of a hard-drinking, hard-driving bar-tending woman. Scratchy and drawling, her meows sound like the most cynical pontifications of your standard barfly.

Damn cute, though, isn't she?

You're Les Miserables!

by Victor Hugo

One of the best known people in your community, you have become
something of a phenomenon. People have sung about you, danced in your honor, created all
manner of art in your name. And yet your story is one of failure and despair, with a few
brief exceptions. A hopeless romantic, you'll never stop hoping that more good will come
from your failings than is ever possible. Beware detectives and prison guards bearing
vendettas.


Take the Book Quiz
at the Blue Pyramid.

The news from Red Lake continues. The tribe has closed off the reservation to outsiders, but has allowed the FBI, the state, the Red Cross and the BIA to send representatives in to help them handle the situation. I'm guessing that people living in states without reservations or in countries withour first nation lands, will have a hard time understanding the situation here. In Minnesota, we are very aware that reservation land is not U.S. land. It is common to see car license plates, flags and other paraphrenalia indicating one of the many Indian nations within the boundaries of Minnesota. Relations between U.S. or state agencies and the tribes have never been good. Huge mistakes have been made in the past and trust is hard to come by. I imagine that the way the Red Lake nation handles this tragedy will differ significantly from what we have seen in other places, such as Littleton, Colorado.

One of the best native blogs is worth following and they also have a donation button to a tribal-sanctioned memorial fund. The website is wampum. Or you can donate directly. Here's info cut and pasted from wampum:

Contributions are now being accepted by the Red Lake Nation Memorial Fund to assist the victims and the families of the recent shooting at Red Lake High School in Minnesota.

Donations may be sent to:

Red Lake Nation Memorial Fund
P.O. Box 574
Red Lake, Minnesota 56671

A couple of strange days.

Saturday's protest was larger than I expected with 1,500 attending. It was exciting and thrilling.

And then yesterday, the shocking news of the school shootings on the Red Lake Reservation hits.

The combination of hope followed by tragedy is simply too shocking to contemplate. My heart is breaking.

Today is the day!

Three months of work culminates in today's anti-war rally. My tasks: meet with the Marshalls at 12 noon, handle media relations at 1:00, when the march starts, head over to Wesley church and set up for the closing program, MC the closing program, help clean up, go home and collapse.

We had a mini blizzard yesterday -- most of the snow stayed south of us. In fact, Keister, near the Iowa border, got 21 inches of snow dumped on her! Here in the Cities, the snowline broke just north of Minneapolis. The northern suburbs got nothing, we got about 4 inches. Not too much to dampen pariticipation today, but enough to coat everything with a beautiful white blanket.

I've been having an intense few days on the internet. I've been following the "where are the women bloggers" (click on Pinko Feminist Hellcat to see more) debates and the "where are the women op-ed writers" debate for three days. Then yesterday I cliked on the link of a women who commented at PFH and discovered Mama's Junkyard and links to African women bloggers.

There is an entire fabulous world out there having nothing to do with our squabbles her in the states. Go. Click. Link. Learn more. All is well.

TIme to cut Ravenhub's hair. For the first time in 20 years of political activity, we are co-MC-ing today's event. I think it will be fun!

The Old Man

Squeak
Originally uploaded by Ravenmn.

Friday cat blog today is in honor of Squeak the Cat! This guy left us several years ago when he was 13 years old.

He was huge, but tender of spirit. An amazing hunter, yet a timid fellow. He loved everyone and allowed Fruitbat (see previous Friday Cat Blog) to rule the roost.

Here he is ruling over the kitchen. In the background is the bottom of a Take Back the Night poster I designed over 10 years ago plus an ultra-left poster I created based on an anarchist flyer that appeared in a zine covering the Poll Tax riots in England.

Since Fruitbat laid claim to me and disdained all other human contact, Squeak made Ravenhub his favorite human. Or maybe it was the shared Y chromosone in a house full of females.

I'm putting together signs to use in the big antiwar rally this weekend. There are events in 575 cities around the world. Find one near you at the main website.

03-26-05 Mayday Books

03-26-05_Meal_&_Movie
Originally uploaded by Ravenmn.

And yet another flyer put together this weekend. Phew! Altogether too much graphic activity for one human. I don't want anyone to get used to the idea that I can create this much print in so little time. Sh! Don't tell a soul!

This event follows a template. I created the Meal+Movie+Mayday masthead a several years ago. We've done quite a few of these programs over the years. The only thing that changes is the information in the middle. I can usually find a movie graphic on the internet to describe whatever DVD gets shown. The meal sometimes changes and the organization receiving donations may change from event to event.

These events are very casual and appeal to a broad range of people. There's a chance to talk about the movie after it's shown. It's also a chance for activists to relax together and share some good food and friendship.

Mothers_Day_2005

Mothers_Day_2005
Originally uploaded by Ravenmn.

MD 2003
Originally uploaded by Ravenmn.

Another flyer I did up today that had too much information for too little space. The Twin Cities has a long tradition of holding events honoring the original meaning of Mother's Day. The day was first celebrated by mother's of civil war veterans in the U.S. Since then, like all other people's history, the origins have been lost and the holiday has been taken over by crass commercialism. This is just a small effort to bring back some clarity to the event!

The flyer on the left is what I created for the same event when it was held two years ago. Less copy = more chances to play with the graphics.

04-10-05_Iraq_Vet

04-10-05_Iraq_Vet
Originally uploaded by Ravenmn.

In the late '60s, I was convinced the Vietnam War was wrong because I listened to the veterans. It is taken for truth that the vets were treated badly when they came back from Vietnam, but the assumptions about who treated them badly are usually wrong.

The anti-war movement welcomed these women and men and listened to their stories. They helped build the GI coffeehouses and newspapers that spread the word. Many of the vets wanted and needed to talk about their experiences and the vast majority of those against the war from pacifists to radicals, were there to listen and help them speak out.

Already, only two years into this particular war, the veterans are telling their stories and the anti-war movement and the churches are listening and providing them a platform from which to speak.

This is a flyer I did for the latest event. One of the problems with these kind of graphics is that so much information gets crammed in it is difficult to put together anything creative. The thought behind it is that the flyer itself becomes an educational tool. It can be handed out for people to read, it can be posted on bulletin boards and phone poles to relay its message. So the organizers cram in a ton of information. Basically, I turn off the graphic artist in me and turn on the propagandist. I'm never particularly happy with the compromise, but that's my problem to handle.

Fruitbat the Cat

Fruitbat2
Originally uploaded by Ravenmn.

Friday cat blogging is a creation of Kevin Drum and something I begin today.

This lovely creature is my heartcat, Fruitbat. She lived to a grand old age of 21.5. She would have been eligible to vote in the presidential election if she'd made it to November, but she passed on October 4.

Fruitbat adopted me as a kitten. She was always and shall ever be Ms. AlphaCat. Here's some background on The Lady I wrote up on the day she died:

Fruitbat came to live with me when I shared an old farm house in Northeast Minneapolis that had the Mississippi River in the back yard. My roommates, Ginny and Stephen had two cats: Tom Kitty, a black and gray short-hair who was the butchest cat I've ever known, and Muskiebait, a sleek black mouser. Fruitbat was a tiny little Russian Blue kitten.

In those days, I was working graveyard shift. Every day I'd wake up around 5 p.m., go downstairs and find Fruitbat. She'd curl up on my lap and allow me to pet her constantly while I had my coffee and tried to wake up.

My best friend at the time had a 10-year-old son named Jeff. When Jeff saw this kitten with her huge ears and tiny, pointed nose, he said, "She looks like a Fruitbat!" The name stuck.

When the house we were renting got sold, Ginny and Stephen bought a house and Ravenhub (not yet married) and I moved into an apartment. Muskiebait had disappeared and had been replaced by Squeak. Squeak and Tom Kitty were supposed to stay with Ginny and Stephen while Fruitbat moved to the apartment with us.

However, Tom Kitty decided the new house was his property and No One Else's. He would not let Squeak near the new house: he literally chased Squeak away whenever he came near the yard. So Squeak ended up coming to live with me and my crew. Even though he was twice the size of Fruitbat, he learned to fear her awesomeness. Her rule was never challenged!

More fun

This site has been down for a couple of days. Hope it stays up for a while. Longmire has done a fine job of recreating romance novel covers here.

If I had any time at all, I'd contribute some covers of my own. Truth be told, I enjoy a schlocky romance novel every now and then. But I have to admit that the cover art is often over-the-top and begging for this kind of parody!

Meanwhile, I've been spending a couple of days hanging out in woman-only space and remembering the incredible strength that I gained many years ago when I participated in "Take Back the Night" planning. Woman power is damned incredible!

Just for fun:

The Moggy Horde's Silly Sleeping Post Olympics is a gallery of cats in strange sleeping positions. The sainted and very-much missed Fruitbat was a master at the "Breathing through my ears nose-dive" sleeping position! Thanks to presurfer for the link.

I used my primitive html editing skills to add a blogroll to my sidebar. Frankly, the words you'll find at the length are far more interesting than any "previous posts" I might have engaged in, so I put the blogroll above my past activities. Considering the recent uproar about there being "no women bloggers"(tm) -- (phrase must be repeated every three months!), I was a bit hesitant to add anything but blogs written by women. Until there is a better balance, that would seem the sensible thing to do. The reality is, there are a few male-run blogs that I check out daily. Check them out!

I had a fabulous weekend. Saturday morning we went to the annual WAMM meeting. I did my shift at the bookstore from 3 to 6 p.m. and from 6 to 8 I had a joint birthday/bookstore fundraising party for me! The party was just about perfect: attended by many of my close personal friends who brought used books and bucks to help keep the bookstore open. There were people from different aspects of my life and it was an interesting mix.

Yesterday was for reading and catching up on chores. I finally gave up on the Iran book. Just breezed through to catch the main points. Now I'm reading some of Michael Berube's work on cultural studies. It's a topic that has fascinated me. I love to see alternate readings of popular culture. Goes back to my fan days and understanding how certain cultural icons can touch somebody on a personal level more powerfully than a populist politician's version of the same issue.

In the work I'm reading now, Public Access: Literary Theory and American Cultural Politics, Berube deals with some of the "Politically Correct" discussions that have been floating around the past couple of decades. I still haven't found that uber essay I've been looking for that describes the absurd image a leftist gets when conservatives accuse us of being "politically correct". Absurd because we were the ones who were laughing at the concept long before the conservatives ever glommed onto the concept.

Just got a call from one of the local activist groups. They are organizing a "Mother's Day" event for Peace. I've worked on several of these over the last few years. I have several flyers and other materials that explain the true history of Mother's Day: that it was a call for peace from mother to mother. I've agreed to do a flyer for their event.

There are a couple of WAMM traditions that I really enjoy. There is always a human billboard: a volunteer who walks around with paper bills on a sandwich board. Attendees can pick an outstanding bill (rent, subscriptions, phone bill, etc.) to pay off as a contribution to ongoing expenses of the organization. The annual report: a summary of activities the organization has participated in over the past year is sung by a local musician. That's always a joy. There is a book exchange where people can bring in their used books and exchange them with other readers. And, as always with WAMM, there is never a meeting without an action -- which can be as simple as creating a banner, writing a letter to your congressperson or holding a march. A few great traditions that I'm glad are continuing for this long-time local organization.

The newest full-page version

Mar19_fullpage
Originally uploaded by Ravenmn.

This is the latest version of the full-page flyer. It still contains the main points: the "troops out now!" declaration is the strongest image, with the date coming in second. I've had to adjust the layout significantly in order to include the names of speakers who have agreed to be on the program as well as a long list of endorsing organizations.

This piece is based on artwork from the national organization (as is the half-page flyer in the post below), but the layout and slogans are locally created. We are still making a decision on where to locate the program. An unfortunate scheduling conflict arose that made our first choice impossible. Fortunately, the flyers that mentioned that location were never printed or distributed.

One rather irritating aspect was coming up with text that would adequately place the event in Loring Park. The gathering will occur at the intersection of two main streets and a smaller cross street. A map would have been good, but would have been hard to place. Finding the proper wording became a tedious exercise, but worth the effort.

This post is really why I started this blog and hope to continue. The few hours that I spend every week on flyers for one event or another is a small example of the tremendous amount of activity that a community of like-minded activists engage in as they struggle to change the world.

Creating compelling and informative flyers for political events is no longer relegated to the hands of people trained in specialized skills with access to expensive equipment. The process is easier, yet it requires a basic level of skill plus a commitment to a particular code of ethics.

I don't just throw this language together. The actual slogans used and the logistics are all decided in public meetings of individuals and organizations who differ in many ways but are willing and able to come together on joint projects.

Since some of the member organizations are 501(c)3 organizations, no mention is made of the Bush administration or the current political party in power. I'm sure some member organizations would love to vent about their hatred for George Bush, but that anti-Bush zeal is put aside in order to work together with people who share a common goal.

Listing endorsers requires honesty and a commitment to communication between organizations with different goals and different levels of accountability. There isn't a list of groups that we can automatically place on the flyer. Each event requires contact with organizations and their representatives. The language has to be transparent and agreeable to a diverse constituency.

I'm not trying to glorify the work that I do. I am trying to illustrate a small part of the massive work involved in activism. Each flyer I create has to be printed and distributed. Dozens of people have taken this particular tool to all kinds of political activities across the region. The flyers are distributed in churches, schools, universities, coffee shops, phone poles, etc. Local media outlets are informed and spread the news. E-mail lists and web sites copy the electronic version of the flyer and pass the information along.

All of this requires individuals willing to give up a small portion of their spare time to work for something bigger than themselves. With all the pretty distractions that are available to each of us in today's world, I remain, as always, amazed and in awe of the people who choose to set aside a bit of their time to participate in activities like this.

Power to the people. Yeah. Uh-huh.

Here we go again....

March_19_halfpage
Originally uploaded by Ravenmn.

This is the latest version of the March 19 flyer. The first flyer was created over a month ago and was basically a "hold the date" piece. It let people know that a nationally coordinated event would occur in March and it would include a mass event in downtown Minneapolis.

Since then, we were able to get graphics from the national office. That's where I got the images and the "Troops Out Now" art. The rest of the leaflet reflects local concerns of place, timing, and the political slogans, etc. The half-page versions are used for handing out at political events and activities. Hundreds of these have been passed out in the last few weeks.

The fun and the not-at-all fun.

It's been a busy couple of days. I updated the March 19 flyers with all the "final" information on Tuesday. Things began to fall about on Wednesday. Nothing earth-shattering. There was a scheduling conflict with the venue we had reserved. So we're going to have to find another location. This is common when dealing with political events. I've probably created a thousand flyers over the years for events that never were. This is where being Minister of Ephemera (see below) comes in handy. I'll just crank up the production process again once the details are arranged.

The Fun

Meanwhile, for your pleasure, visit this fun Error Page. You'll want to have the sound on and wait until the final door slam. Very cute. Found via Presurfer. I've been visiting Presurfer for a few years now and I always find something to amuse me and pass along to my e-mail buddies.

The Not at all Fun

On the opposite scale of reality, I have been disturbed for days over something I read recently. I read a post over at A Tiny Revolution about Jerry Falwell. First, I've gotta say that Jonathan's blog is both informative and often hilarious. However, this particular post was in response to an excerpt from Jerry Falwell's 1987 autobiography, Strength for the Journey. I'll post the beginning of it. You can head over to the website to read the entire entry if you have the stomach for it. But do not go there if, like me, you cannot tolerate cruelty to animals. Here's the start:

There were times that Dad’s pranks bordered on cruelty. One of his oil-company workers, a one-legged man he nicknamed "Crip" Smith, complained about everything. Dad and Crip’s co-workers got tired of the old man’s bellyaching and decided to take revenge.

The full quote is available at the link above, but do not go and read it if you have the slightest concern for animals.

Jonathan and his many commenters make clear that this is no "prank" and that it goes far over the line of cruelty straight through to sadism and beyond to what Jonathan calls "batshit crazy". Hereinafter, I shall refer to said activity as the "BCE" for Batshit Crazy Event. Trust me. It's awful.

The damn thing is, I don't have anyone I can talk to about how disturbed I am by this BCE. I don't want anyone else to be running around with this horrifying image in her head. Yet I need to vent my rage. So I'll use the code "BCE" and you can just imagine the horrible event. Trust me. Whatever you are imagining, this is worse.

Granted, this quote is entirely out of context and, no, I'm not going to go read the book to understand it better. Falwell has never really been on my radar screen. I'm guessing I wouldn't like much of what he says and he wouldn't like me. But something about this BCE strikes me as typical of the bullying rhetoric that seems so common these days.

First, the lies.

"There were times that Dad’s pranks bordered on cruelty."

On any scale of decency, the BCE does not constitute either a "prank" or something "like" cruelty. It is cruelty. Period. Why not just say it? Why pretty it up with illusions? This is so reminiscent of the "boys will be boys" bullshit that gets spouted after a gang rape. Like that idiot lawyer who said forcing the Abu Graib prisoners into human pyramids was just like what cheerleaders do at football games. Falwell can feel perfectly comfortable shouting "sinner" at two women who love each other and choose to form a lifelong partnership. But he cannot bring himself to admit that Dad does anything other than participate in "a prank".

Second, the hypocrisy.

While these media pundits spend hours complaining about liberals, leftists and radicals taking over the world and destroying it for the good decent people, they never consider that their own talk consists of the "complaining" they claim to hate. It's always the other guy who's a whiner. Do you think for one minute that "Dad" and his oil-company workers weren't whining about Smith? If there was enough hostility to lead to the BCE, then you know there had to be several days if not weeks of "bellyaching" to stoke the fire of such hatred.

Third, the gang mentality.

Dad and Crip’s co-workers got tired of the old man’s bellyaching and decided to take revenge.

It's not enough to engage in a BCE against someone you dislike. You need to have a posse. Not only must you win against these people; you also must have an audience.

Fucking assholes.

The completely unrelated.

The other day I thought up an idea for an icon that could work for blog I like to read. I googled some images I vaguely remembered, threw them together in photoshop and e-mailed the file to the blogger. Her response: "You rock my world!" How cool is that? She's going to pass the idea on to a web-savvy friend and may actually use the icon in the future. It is one of the joys of having a skill that others can appreciate. Even if the icon never gets used, it shows that I thought about her, that her ideas sparked ideas in my own head and that created an action and a product we both could enjoy. This is why I became a skilled tradeswoman rather than a journalist. Stringing together words was never enough for me. Putting words and images together in a creative and informative way is far more fulfilling for me.