I very recently learned that my very dear friend, Peter Kavanga, passed away.
I am not sure where or when but I see through second hand FB posts that the planet has lost a very good, wise, important human being.
I met Peter in the late 90s. Gracie had “found” him through a friend. Peter was a traditional healer with a very impressive reputation.
At that time I was suffering from severe sciatica. I was in a bad way, had been dragging a leg, and moaning when moving for a while. At times it was debilitating. I’d been to doctors, seen numerous massage therapists… was dragging my leg behind me and living with a load of pain.
When I went to meet Peter for the first time it was a very professional consultation. I told him about my problems, he asked a lot of questions. He asked for and received notes from past medical visits. When all done he accepted me into his care, sated that he could help me, and said to me, “…be prepared to bury yourself in pain…”.
Twice a day for 5 days running. 2to3hours each session. He’d use his fingers, which I do believe could crack walnuts, to loosen all my joins and ligaments and muscles. He did bruise me more than once. He went very deep. Terribly deep.
And all the while, I’d be moaning and groaning and at times screaming, he’d be chuckling or chatting.
The first 5days went well and I honestly got my leg back. It did not happen overnight, and the pain was real, but I got my body back.
That was in late 1999 and into early 2000. And I never ceased to allow Peter to keep me healthy. At one stage I employed him as my Major Domo, and went home daily for afternoon beating, ah, massage sessions.
My entire family relied on him to keep us healthy and hapi. He could fix injuries, assist with chronic issues, set bones, and make you scream… or was it a howl… we called it “Peter’s Wolf Pack Skool of massage”… Aaauuuwoooooooohhhh…..
I last saw him a few years back, in 2016. After a neardeath motorcycle mishap I ended up with a severely damaged shoulder joint. It was then I underwent one week of daily therapy / beatings from both Peter and Ruatau Perez. That was mainly for my buggered shoulder. But of course all problems manifest throughout the body so the daily sessions, both morning asd afternoon, were intense. And did some good… But even the best cannot fix that which cannot be repaired.
I had my shoulder replaced last year. Have not been back to the Solomons since February 2019. Had not seen Peter for way too long.
A few weeks back I asked my Daughter to see if he was around. To give him some money, pass on my very best regards.
Not To Be…
Sadly Not To Be.
I searched but could not find a pict of Peter, except for this from FB
It was an absolute honour to have walked in this man’s Shadow.
What is difference between immigration and emigration?
Emigration is the act of leaving a resident country or place of residence with the intent to settle elsewhere (to permanently leave a country).
Conversely, immigration describes the movement of people into one country from another (to permanently move to a country).
I am a serial Emigrant… I confess… I left the country of my youthful residence and settled in the Solomon Islands. The important word here is “permanently”. I left Iowa in January of 1981. Never returned, permanently. I received my Solomon Island Citizenship in 2007.
I never really planned or prepared for retirement/ old-age, but it did come and I found myself “retiring to Australia”. I have been a legal resident here for 4years. Grace had been a legal resident (as caregiver to two grandsons in school) since 2010. In 2016 I received a limited Residence in Aus as a retired old fart. I was and have been allowed to live, come and go, invest, and enjoy that which Aus has to offer. I could not though ever become a dependant of the Common Wealth. I had to pay my own way.
We were required to pay some very hefty fees, buy expensive insurance, and place a huge bond. All just for the privilege to live here in Australia. The retirement visa required renewal every 4years. You had to pass the acceptance tests every 4years. And pay the fees…
Immigration is, understandably, a very long, drawn out, frustrating and exceedingly costly process. Checks and controls are important, when the “Residence” is valuable. A Citizen has every right in his/ her home land. A Resident will have some rights but controls and prerequisites stay in place. Your residency can be revoked. Not so your Citizenship.
Why do folks pick up and Emigrate? Leave that which is known, not knowing when or if you shall return. Language, food, currency, legal systems, support systems shall be different, shall be challenging.
Sometimes for Adventure. Sometimes for Love. Sometimes for socio-political reasons. Often because of drought, famine, pestilence, war, et al.
Sometimes by mistake, misfortune and sometimes, damned good luck…
The winter of 1979/1980, I was going no where. In and out of school, choosing to do courses that had nothing to do with my declared Major. Playing the long forgotten game of “dropping in”. Attending lessons you were not enrolled in because you’d heard the lecturer was good or the subject matter interesting. Deciding to go on long hitch-hike trips… skipping exams… A lot of time wasting.
Then… equivalent to “living in your parents basement”, but mine was ‘living in granny’s trailer-home”. Working seasonal jobs, not willing to do another “winter on unemployment benefits”. Hanging out with the same people I’d been hanging out with for too long…
I managed to “Get-Out” by becoming a Peace Corps Volunteer. I applied and they took me. Gave me a job in Solomon Islands.
Pure, unadulterated, damned good luck.
I’d rather be lucky than good looking…
I chose to be an Emigrant. Not that it was panned, maybe preordained, but I never planned much when I was young… but, I never returned, permanently, to the US, or Iowa. I sold my Triumph for 500bucks. It was all conscience. I chose to build my future in The Solomons. I Emigrated…
Peace Corps… suppose to be a 2year gig. In and out, then back to my ‘71 oil-in-frame Triumph. That wuz deplan…
“Life is what happens when you’re making other plans”
And now, here in Aus, I have emigrated yet again.
Grace and I were granted Permanent Resident status on Thursday. It’s been a long, costly exercise with never, ever a guaranteed outcome. You can spend heaps of time and $$$ only to be refused. It’s the way it is.
But we jumped through every required hoop, like good poodles, paid the fees and ancillary costs, AND are now hapi Permeant Residents in the fine and hapi Land of Aus,
And the beat goez on… Angelo’s 18th Bday this eve… DJ Sasquatch set up and cranking…
It’s musta been/ musta be the ol Skool catholic upraising. The ol Skool, three-generations-under-one-roof, sorta thing… I’m over 60 and still raising teen-angers. In fact, I still have toddlers under feet. Well, not really, in the common sense of “toddler” as a descriptive… My “toddlers” are more like feral cats. or, perhaps I’m giving feral cats a bad name here… maybe more like articulate wild rodents?
I had a 5yrold attempt to ride my Segway 4×4 death machine off a 2’high retaining wall. She’s very good at controlling the Segway, normally… but today she came undone. The Segway is a big, heavy machine. And it can scoot well. It is dangerous. Can be dangerous.
Its difficult to get little kids on the machines safely… they can go fast but they cant figger out the stopping side of things very easily. The term “whiskey throttle” comes to mind.
Had a group of two-wheeled novices around yesterday, and we roared and scooted and vroomed and growled all afternoon. It was great fun.
Had one great case of whiskey throttle when Miller took off too hot for his first ever two wheeled vroom run. He did not come undone, but was a classic damn-near-dead run that left us all laughing.
I very much enjoy the “visitors”. Enjoy the hell outta getting moms and kids and dads and aunties on the bikes and on the Segway and out in the back40 tempting the gods of injury and death…
Well, not really injury and death.
I had 3yr+10 month old, Nova, on the Segway with me, scooting across the yard as a couple other machines wizzed and whined along… Nova is hollering “faster, go faster” …
I had to laugh when I was trying to teach Jemma Ferris, 15yrsold, to control the clutch on the 150cc Honda. She’s a good learner but struggling to “ride” the bike… she couldn’t maintain balance enough to get a good run going. So I asked her, “can you ride a bicycle?”, and she answers, “not real well.”… which means to me, “NO”. Means I’m taking a kid who does not ride a standard bicycle, putting her on a 25hp dirt bike, and expecting a hapi ending…
Makes sense to me!
Some pictures of the past few weeks of fun and trials and tribulations… kids go back to Skool in the morn…
Hugh, Angelo, Mendozza
Jemma
Teens aren’t all that bad… Hugh and Jemma are Emma and Tony Ferris’ kids.
So, as Monday here grows warm. As the teens all sleep their all-night movie festival off. The skies are blue, the air is clean, a light breeze shakes the orchids outside the door… The newz… the blewz…. Monday morn so Sunday afternoon/ eve US-time… Only a few weeks before the next test of the system that is the USofA…
I’m getting a bit tired of the stupid double standards we see in the world-wide media… It’s ok, fine, acceptable, even commendable… to wish the POTUS a miserable and pain filled death due to Kung Flu… But you cant say a single word about Mohammad liking camels. Witch-from-hell Pelosi and Chuckles Schumer can play politics with the citizens of the state’s well being, eat boutique ice cream and act like impotent people, as Cali burns. The Republicans are to blame for no getting the recent “bailout-bill” voted on, because they don’t agree with about 1trillion in good ol fashioned pork-barrel-politics.
Quite franking I think that California/ the west coast as a whole, is preparing to take-on third-world status. No power, no water, no law and order… but heaps of good ganja… sound familiar?
I also enjoy/ am perturbed by (speaking of double standards) the spin and negativity the loony liberal left are taking more and more often… I speak of the tendency for the LLLeft accuse everyone and all on their shit-list of doing the heinous and despicable things they do/ have done… TRUMP WILL REFUSE TO ADMIT DEFEAT… Sounds like the Dems in 2016 to me… TRUMP AND FAMILY ARE ONLY THERE TO LINE THEIR POCKETS… duh!… “YOU’RE A LIAR, MAN”… duh, again…
Make no doubt about it… all politicians are cut from the same cloth.
It is policies/ POLICIES… that are important. Sadly though, it is the personality’s, PERSONALITY’S that become the sugar for the flies.
Side thoughts without hard facts… Two things Ive been looking at in a soft kinda way… 1) Deaths overall 2020 to 2019 – and 2) New registrations of voters by party 2020…
I guess this requires no explanation… May well appears as though the electorate ain’t too interested…
It’s “the day after”. The day after The Debate Debacle.
The Debate Debacle that showed all very clearly that the political scene is ALL about personalities and NOT policies.
Joe either acted like he never knew, or he simply forgot what is published in the DNC Policy Papers. No green new deal, and Antifa is an idea… not true on either account.
TheDonald acts like he’s not used to sharing the stage… No catchy slogans, or micro-messages of meaning.
I do believe he should have let Biden talk himself in circles… Hunter Biden was dishonourably discharged from the USNavy for failing a drug test. Hunter has had a long history of drug abuse. His daddy got him a commission in the USN late in life and he failed to last 1 year… FACT. This alone was enough lever for Trump to pommel Biden, but he let it slip past.
Of course the fact that Biden lasted the duration of the debacle means he won.
So forget about policy! Listen to the lies and the BS. Then choose the personality you like best.
A sad way to run a Democracy, but that’s the way it is in my mind.
It’s 1012am, 30th of the ninth. It’s the day the world stands still.
The day TheDonald and SleepyJoe debate.
DEBATE
I need to get prepared to discuss the event of the night, the event of my morning here, as it transpires. As it all goes down, all 90 minutes, all hour and a half. I suspect it’ll be quite a show. Quite an instructional interlude in this season of silliness, in this, the 2020 Political Cycle.
I have been sitting and listening to people on both sides of the political divide… listening to people spew their emotion and ignorance, listen to people speak of fears and concern, listening to people be fucking brain dead as they ignore blatant the truths and adopt a posture of complete passivity as their town, streets, states and nation is set alight.
Of course, I am beaten up, abused and demeaned and diminished for be centrist position. For pointing out the obvious from a non-biased position. Thats what a centrist is… its a position from the middle. A position from the place of no hidden agenda. It’s is the position I have held for most of my adult life.
But it ain’t good enough for some. No! I guess its a “bird of a feather” type of deal. If you don’t tweet the same tune you ain’t invited into the nest. Dissent is unwelcome. Questions are outlawed. A line between the two main factions is well established. It shows the intolerance and emotion involved.
Folks may wonder when and where and how I gained any knowledge of national politics, or economic management or bipartisan cooperation and interaction… 10years ago I was Chair of the Solomons Chamber of Commerce. I led the Chamber into a new role as a fully fledged member of the tripartite system of modern government. I established the Chamber as a solid member of the Governing position in the nation, at that time. It was something I had to fight and advocate for. It was not easy nor was it welcomed by all.
Any government or nation has three main partners at play in the decisions being made: 1) The Government acts as a regulator, a service provider and an internationally recognised arbiter for all citizens. 2) The Trade Unions represent the workers, arbitrate and bargain on a collective basis and work to ensure a fair and nonpartisan commercial system. 3) The Employers are a trade union unto themselves, and if left unchecked they can unbalance all. Thus a strong union of employers, like the Solomon Island Chamber of Commerce and Industries, makes the three-pegged stool balanced and useful.
The tripartite system I describe works well if managed well. If the Gov is too heavy handed, or the Unions too militant, or the Employers too full fo themselves, things are not copacetic.
I managed for quite some years to maintain and honest centrist position within the Solomons. Calling foul where I thought required, writing weekly blurbs for the Solomon Star, sitting on committees in the SIG, fighting for less corruption in the SIG, noting only too well many businesses prefer a corrupt system to a system that is faithful to the established processes. I did not do it all to make friends. I did it because I knew it was needed and was willing to expose myself to the fallout that could, and did come.
Of course, corruption is real and very powerful. Government officials are well positioned to line their pockets, as are business houses how dodge taxes or tariffs. And of course, Union Officials are very well positioned to put their personal needs and wants above that of those they represent.
The USofA (like most nations) has fostered a system of Corrupt Elitism within their political system for a long, long time. Two sets of rules do exist. Recent events, noting the University Admissions Scandal, the Obama/Clinton/Comey/Russian Scandal, and many elitist driven “paytoplay” scenarios including but not limited to the Clinton and Biden Family biz of selling influence for cash.
Side thought: Obama was a Law Professor in 2005, made 85,000pa. He entered politics, and is worth 40million today. Go on, tell me politics ain’t corrupt.
The Clintons as a team are worth 140million. They’ve been at it longer than The Obamas’.
I am rambling… Ranting perhaps? As I sit, watching the TV as the debate kicks off… Like a good fight, the walk-ins, the announcements are important.
The timing could not have been more poetic. A very short few weeks before The General Election. About four months before the El Presidente’, whom ever it may be, is sworn in. And, very importantly, four years since a very similar situation transpired…
And that drama lasted almost the entire year… From February 2016 to 3 January 2017, Merrill Garland’s nomination expired when the 114th Congress ended. It was a huge battle.
There was much discussion and controversy. The Republican Majority simply refused to consider the nomination. Legal actions were taken but were not effective. In November 2017 a law suit seeking to compel a vote was thrown out of the court.
From a political point of view the Democrat Establishment really fucked up badly. If RBG had retired her seat earlier, Obama could have replaced her. As it was, after the death of Justice Scalia, the Democrat-Machine lost that battle, AND, NOW, They’ve lost Bader-Ginsburg’s seat.
I hear a lot of discussion and a whole lot of noise about the hows and whys of El Presidente’ Trump’s position and ability to make an appointment. It is fun to watch the Democrat side melt down, say the exact opposite of what they were saying four years ago. But most of what is being said, quietly or loudly, does not apply here and now.
Four year’s ago, Obama’s two-term tenure of the Oval Office was coming to an end. He was not going to be President in 2017. It was Hillary v TheDonald and it was a winner take all contest.
This year we have the incumbent president v an opponent. The Donald is president until January. And I am certain this is a moment where he is glad his party holds sway in the Senate. It could be different.
FYI:
Supreme Court justices, court of appeals judges, and district court judges are nominated by the President and confirmed by the United States Senate, as stated in the Constitution.
The names of potential nominees are often recommended by senators or sometimes by members of the House who are of the President’s political party. The Senate Judiciary Committee typically conducts confirmation hearings for each nominee. Article III of the Constitution states that these judicial officers are appointed for a life term.
The Constitution sets forth no specific requirements for judges. However, members of Congress, who typically recommend potential nominees, and the Department of Justice, which reviews nominees’ qualifications, have developed their own informal criteria.
So, we have in the USSC… six men and three women. Of the men four appear to “white”, one ain’t white, and one, Alito, I guess to be of Mediterranean descent. Of the women we offer a (recently deceased) self proclaimed, Jewish Grandmother, A Hispanic Grandmother and Elena Kagan,
And you’re still going to try spinning the “Systemic Racism” bullshit?
Dawgs’ are important to mankind. Your hand on a Dawg lowers your blood pressure.
Three Dawg Night.
To Build a Fire.
Human Erectus and Canis Lupas… what a magical union.
And such great movies… Old Yeller. A Long Way Home. Hiatchi. A good Dawg movie will make you cry.
Dawg and Man… Perhaps of such, monumental proportion that – without Human Erectis- Canis would be much better off. But he chose to be faithful. To share the fire. And with Canis by his side, Human was a force to be reckoned with.
Dawgs are noble and true. Some have a thievery-streak. Some are lazy. Some hyper… but man and dawg, what a partnership!
It must have been a terribly cold night, the worse night in generations, that drove Canis to Human’s fire. And after uncountable generations, we’re still a winning team.
I have soooo mannny dawg-tales… Let’s starts at the middle-early-beginning:
I was quite young. Maybe 4-5yrsold. I recall a fourth of July celebration on the farm where we lived south of Knoxville, Iowa. I have vivid images… Fireworks, bbqs’, lots of people. Bottles of cola cola. Fresh, crank-made ice cream by the gallons. A long weekend of excitement and marvels for a young child.
There I was… The back stoop of the small white Farm-House… My Father and other males, I recall my favoured uncle, Jimmy, sitting by back door, near the large earthen mound that was the “root-cellar”. The two-hole “long-drop” out by the clothesline. A large steel bell with a huge clapper hung from the clothesline-pole, near the two-holer. It was an old farm. Big front lawn. My family rented the house and the farmer/ owner managed the farm.
It must have been a long weekend. Celebrations had been ongoing and everyone was relaxed. It was the decompression side of the weekend… Things were almost over. Everyone was hapi. Relaxed.
The Men are smoking, sitting on beer crates. Talking in low tones.
A couple of mongrel dogs that belonged to the farm, sunning themselves on the walk way.
I sat near.
Listening to the cadence of the speech. Not fully understanding but enjoying the sensation of listening to these men, as they smoked. I enjoyed the smell of thier tobacco. So did the dogs… The dawgs were my friends. We spent a lot of time together.
I recall Jimmy picking up a dog near him and holding his ear open. My father, without a word, stuck a match and burnt a tick. Jimmy turned the dog a bit more, a few more ticks were summarily incinerated by a succession of Ohio Blue Tips.
I was fascinated. Another Man had grabbed another dog and as the first de-ticked Canis ran off whimpering, more matches and more ticks were used and abused.
I elbowed in as only a child can do. I got close. Watched the sizzling ticks. Saw the dogs squirm and fight, ineffectively, as a parasite was burnt from their skin.
That’s when Jimmy grabbed me. He held me across his knee as my father sizzled ticks in both my ears. I do believe I had more ticks than the Dawgs.
When Jimmy’s grip relaxed, I scurried away, whimpering, to where the dogs were. Under the close line.
We sat there, the dawgs and I, licking our wounds. Staring warily toward the men and their cigarette smoke. Wondering what we had done wrong to be so sorely treated.
Sunday morn here in Queensland, 13th day of ninth month. It is raining, a slow, hapi, fun filled, constant, light misting.
A crippled “Pied Butcher Bird” forages outside my window. I say crippled because this bird is noticeably favouring one leg. Like a sailor of old on a peg-leg, this bird has an uneven gait, its left leg only a pivot for the right. I see this bird daily. I’ll name it “Pirate” from here on out.
Fun how you can get to know the different creatures from the wild that share our immediate worlds… Our resident “Masked Lapwing Plovers” are old friends. I call them Elvis and Pricilla. Plovers generally are alarmist, they make a lot of noise when not hapi. People here have a fear of them because they can swoop on you, which is scary, and they squawk as they fly straight at you. Quite unnerving, but contrary to popular belief I have never found that they will attack, like magpies do. (magpies can be very frightening, and for good reason. They are evil.)
After a few years of interaction, our residents Plovers no longer resent our presence. We’ve come to accept each other and no longer fight or scream or complain.
Of course, we have a long running feud with the swamp hens and turkeys. There are a number of them thriving in the back-40. Growing root crops can be a problem with them around. We are preparing to move the main root-crop garden because we can’t win against them. We’ll tap-out and bring the garden closer to the house. Kumara and cassava and taro are swamp hen delicacies.
One positive from the Kung Flu foolishness is that UFC was a decent fightcard on every Sunday morn here. Saturday eve Vegas-Time, so I get to wake up, wrap in my granny-blanket and watch hours of bloodsport. And on a rainy morn like today, nothing could be better… fresh coffee, a warm grannyblanket, and two muscley babes beating the shit outta each other. Ol-fart heaven, me thinks.
The past week has had me re-evaluating something I’ve been thinking and saying…
The US cities that have been seeing so much “Peaceful Protesting” and not so much positive leadership or practical policing are “Democrat Run”, meaning the elected leadership in these cities are Democrat and as such have been the problem, the weakness, responsible for the lack of control and effective management. Thus, they carry the blame for all and everything…
Let’s look at the flavour of the various cities in the USA…
I have now rethought this… For some strange reason I was willing to “blame” the mismanagement of the various rape and pillage scenarios on the Elected Leaders. Where in fact, the responsibility leis firmly with the Electorate. The Electorate that put these inept fools in office.
It’s is not the Looney Liberal Leftist leaders, but rather the looney leftist electorate that bears the burden of responsibility herein.
We all know that there is a certain ilk of politician that will say and do anything to get elected. We see this phenomenon daily on our current political cycle… Crazy Uncle Joe Biden is a prime example… how many times can he or will he change his spots to suit the Electorate? Of course, a rhetorical question, because we are a couple months out from the next election and Joe has plenty of time to swap and flop a lot more…
And we find this in all political setups… Democrat, Republican, Independent, Labour, Liberal, Green… all political parties offer succour to spinless wanna-bes who will sing any tune to get a pocket filled with booty.
I do sound jaded. But I am tired of the BULLSHIT. He mindless mooing that comes from a distracted herd. I am jaded when we see/ find that the puppet masters play elitist games, and its OK. As Cohen scams with Cuomo, as fires burn and power grids fail, as evidence is intentfully destroyed, and any positive sense of cooperation and contribution falls by the dusty, bloody road side….
It’s September. That lovely, sorta in the middle, month… in the middle of seasonal change. In the middle of the last half of the year. In the middle of the “go back to school”, and right in the middle of prepare for Halloween.
Halloween is my favourite holiday.
Ive been real bizzy lately. Not enough time to watch and listen and respond to the various world wide news cycles… One way cool bit of news is this:
I am watching and listening this morn as Democrat elected officials are getting into hot water for being caught… WitchFromHell Pelosi in the beauty Parlor, Portland Mayor, Wheeler, moving due to the thugs he has been praising attacking him in his home, Lori Leftfoot in Chi_town.. her hypocrisy(s) is too great to list herein. The DC Mayor finally figuring out it ain’t all going in her favour, as the Kenosha people welcome help, even as the officials claim they dont need any.
So, we have unrest, a possible non-opening of schools, The Kung Flu, AND… we are haggling over the names of buildings and the statues that have been standing for ages. Does nay one else see poorly arranged prestidigitation?
It’s a farce. A tragi-comedy in the old, old sense.
And Pelosi says she was “set up”.
I recall that’s what De Lorena said when he got busted.
I have never been afraid of the dark. I teach my children and grandchildren that there is nothing in the dark to be fearful of. I was taught by a wolf I shared space with in the 1970s how to see in the dark. I pass the lesson onto my kids and grannies.
I do not live in a racist world.
I am not a racist.
I know racism is alive and well. I have met racism face to face many times. It is very ugly.
But I sit and watch as the modern US0fA is constructing a racist environment, a racist dialogue, a racist mindset. Either you are a victim or a perpetrator. Everyone is a racist. Everyone is buying into the concept of a racist world.
Im trying to figure it out. Why the need to stand up and apologise for being white… “My name is Mike and I’m a racist”. “I apologise publicly for my sins as a racist and for the sins of my fathers”.
Utter fucking bullshit!
And everyone is trying to out apologise for presumed and supposed transgressions. We post foolish memes that say nothing but gain the applause of the apologist and victim filled vanguard.
I do not live in a racist world. We know racism exists. We have seen racism face to face. But the ugliness of racism is something I cannot accept.
I cannot accept the racists badgering me into accepting their interpretation of my world. Sure, go ahead, go right ahead and accept racism in your world. Teach your children to be racists, apologists, victims, lackys to the negative status quo. Be my guest, go right ahead.
I’m getting pissed off by the very ignorant use of the word racism or racist.
I’m not going to go to Webster to make my case, I don’t need to. I know what racism is. I know a racist when I see one, hear one. They can’t run. They can’t hide. Unless the water is muddied, and everyone, EVERYONE, becomes a racist.
And it pisses me off.
I have written much about my life and multiple moments of being what I call “Profiled”, or “Diminished”.
If its important to really, honestly know who the racists are, we need to agree on what it is we discuss…
My last moment of being diminished was not that long ago. My last trip to the USA, September 2018. I was moving out of our nice apartment in the Paseo district of Pasadena, CA. We’d kept an apartment there for ages, were finally letting it go.
I was getting rid of my Thruxton, and sending my Honda custom to be shipped to Australia. Both bikes were in the basement. I could ride the Thruxton up but needed help to push the Honda up. It had a dead battery. I’d enlisted my ol bud SCarpy to help me out, he has a van, built the custom and would prepare it to be shipped out. Payment for all was my Thruxton.
So I’m on Cordova and Olive, a busy side of town, 10 – 11am, plenty of traffic. I’m leaning on the corner of the building looking out for SCarpy. He’d called, but was on Cordova St in Altadena, not Pasadena. So I’m hangn’ on there corner, looking out for a white van. A cop drives by.
He looked the other way so I knew he’d sussed me.
I’m dressed in my steel toe work boots, a pair of khaki shorts and a simple sleeveless T. I am inked from neck to wrist, chest and back and legs. You can’t NOT notice my ink. I don’t cut my hair, tho many people think I should. I don’t claim to be “pretty”.
What does the cop see? You tell me. Tattoos and black boots and long hair….And he sees me seeing him, seeing me. We had both “pinged” each other.
Same cop drives by again, on my side of the street. He really looks me up and down. Not hiding it. I don’t acknowledge but do watch, and he knows I am watching.
But I stay on the corner. I’m waiting fo SCarpy… I’m not doing anything wrong, just hanging out… waiting…
Same cop, down from Arroyo Ave side, in the middle lane, blinker on, he’s going to come talk me. He does the turn and then a UTurn on Olive, parks right by the fire hydrant on the corner. As he gets out of his car, with my hands well away from my body, I say “Good morning, I’m Mike, how are you?”. And I smile.
He’s up and out of his car, sizes me up, notes I am more of an old fart than a threat, asks for ID and we part as friends.
It could have all been very different.
I was in PNG on business. PNG is a tough place. We were out, too late. Playing too much, having too much fun.
I don’t know Moresby well so can’t really describe where it happened but Morseby does have some decent highways.
We’re motoring along the highway from the downtown area to one of the suburbs. Just came off the on-ramp onto the main, and pretty busy motorway, a big Land Rover came screaming up on us and damn near killed us forcing us off the road. My buddy, Collin was a drunk as I and I really didn’t notice much until he hollered, hit his brakes and swerved violently away from the nose of the Rover.
Uniforms with pump shotguns pile out of the Rover, and we are pretty well roughed up and frightened before they, the local police, decided we were not their prey. But in the 90 seconds it took for us to not pose a threat to them and them to realise were were no threat, both Collin and I were very near death.
The police with the guns were not white.
Side line… it turned out that the car Collin was driving was a rental and an identical car from the same rental company had been used in a very violent crime. The cops were amped because people had been ruthlessly murdered and did not expect compliance when they stopped us. They were 1000% ready to shoot first and ask questions second.
It sobered us both up soo much we had to go to another bar and get redrunk. It was fucking scary. And we got terribly re-drunk.
In both situations I was judged and categorised on my looks, my dress, the car I was in. Both could have ended very badly.
I do not begrudge any of the Officers involved, not their thoughts, their actions, or their deeds. They were “doing their jobs”.
Were they racist? Or, closer to reality, were they Profiling me or – I like the word – “Diminishing” me?
Looking down on me. Judging me because of my hair and ink, or as in Moresby, it was gold Toyota sedans that were being “targeted” that night.
I make every effort in my life to NOT diminish/ profile others. I know it happens and I know its a required part of being human… being on the alert for threats or possible not-good situations on the horizon. Its part of our DNA.
I was walking our village the other day. I went to the post office.
Heading down the stairs, I paused as a woman slowly walked up. I know that nowadays I need a hand on a rail. I can no longer depend on my innate balance and youthful knees to keep me upright. She’s using the rail so I’ll wait for her, then descend.
I step back to my left. She is coming up, I open the door for her, We exchange honest smiles. My ink didn’t scare her. My slovenly nature did not annoy her. It was all about smiles.
And good luck…
I reckon it was the smile in Pasadena that kept me from trouble. And the fact I had nothing to hide. I had nothing to fear from the Officer.
In Moresby it was blind, drunken good luck.
And Now, The Rest Of The Story…..
I later heard from Moresby that the police found and chased the “other Golden Toyota Sedan”. They blew it off the road with shotguns. Killing all inside.
A Wednesday morn here. The RNC is starting for us on the underside of the planet. The daily news-cycle out of the USofA is not a happy one.
I have spent the last day licking my wounds, feeling sore and sorry for myself. I spent about 30 minutes under the ink on Monday. And it fucking hurt. Ive had long sessions and return for a couple days sessions, but never had I been so terribly beaten and battered…
Right palm, redo
I know, it don’t look like much but it was way over the top of my pain threshold. As you may recall, about a year ago I had this done but it did not take. It wore off. And my ink-family decided I needed to go toe to toe with Maestro-Shane, the ink-on-palm master.
This is the old, faded tattoo
So, to keep the ink from fading, wearing off, you need to go real deep. Real, real deep. Into the deep tissue. And it hurts way, way too fucking much.
The ink session was Monday. I pretty much sat and cried all day yesterday. My hand ain’t very useful. It remains wounded. It will be a long healing process. I had thought Tu was a puss when he got his hands done. He moaned and groaned heaps. Now I think he’s a rock for doing both at the same time!
I watched the RNC kick start yesterday. Wrapped in a granny-made blanket I sat and moaned both from my hand and from the new-cycle. I’m watching day two as I type this.
As I surf the news channels on cable TV, and read the net-news, I begin to think that being a centrists is getting harder and harder. The loud and obnoxious Right-Wing factions of politics are making much more sense than the modern Liberal-Looney left. I ponder a deep question herein… was it the looney left when I was a young, long haired, army jacketed protester in the 70s? I dont think so. I think we made sense. We had the Legacy of the Kennedys and MLKing. We had fine examples and smart leaders. Something has changed. Have all my old Hippy-buds turned into Marxists?
Maybe people have gotten lazy, or worse, stupid?
I dont think people read, listen or think very well, any more.
It saddens me.
It’s getting harder and harder too remain a political centrist.
Its a Monday here in QLD. Its a grand day, did grand things, had grand-kid fun in the pool. Life is GRAND!
Milestone… Gloria Grace is proficient on the Segway. She’s 5.
Reminds of when Paul was young… I had always said “if you could start the outboard engine you could drive the boat”. Paul at age 10 or 11, had a 8hp he could use. Then one day he figured out how to start the 25hp. Things changed quickly.
My day has been domestically busy. Comfortably busy.
For a bit of the morning, and little bit of the afternoon I took the time to watch the DNC National Convention, LIVE, and on TV… But it wasn’t live. I felt let down. I wanted silly hats and tradition and rowdy people, civil unrest, armed constabulary… isn’t that a DNC National Convention?
I feel old.
The DNC National Convention is a ZOOM conference at best. I wanted emotion and noise and pageantry…
But I got Mr Rogers, Sesame Street, and the Muppets. I felt let down.
the good part was I got to watch and listen to the Coolest First Lady ever… And I had a thought…
I was talking to a friend and I asked him this question…
In our modern Owellian-World, is Michelle Obama’s straight hair “cultural appropriation”.
Just the other day, and I can’t recall precise circumstances, this same friend and I saw a scene that made us comment on “cultural appropriation”.
Google it and find:
People also ask
What counts as cultural appropriation?In the broadest sense cultural appropriation is the adoption or taking of specific elements (such as ideas, symbols, artifacts, images, art, rituals, icons, behavior, music, styles) of one culture by another culture.
So, as we watch Ms Michelle on the TV, I ask the question…
And I say to my friend, “lets see if freedom of speech flies this time”…
Of course I use FaceBook. I’m a modern day 21st century dinosaur.
And I thought twice about the post. It was indeed a well considered “experiment” of sorts…
I ask one question in my FB post: “isn’t the straight hair cultural approbation?”.
I state three opinions… I think MB is sexy, has a great smile and is very classy.
My question comes after my opinions.
Thats it. Nothing more from me.
How come it becomes Russian roulette?
I receive in reply this: “What the hell! She is honest and true. You do not vote so just stay out! You are an ass!”.
Three exclamation marks and one full stop. An aggressive question “what the hell” plus a powerful defence “she is honest and tru” followed by a territorial warning and a justification for such “you don’t vote so just stay out of it” plus the prerequisite personal attack “you are an ass”.
I sigh…
Ive been thinking of ditching the FB scene for quite a while. But I like the way it keeps me in touch with distant friends and family. It’s a great social tool. But why the Russian roulette?
Do any of you out there remember Paul Harvey? Syndicated radio talk show host from my youthful days working construction, on at noon to 1pm in Iowa. We’d all listen to him during our lunch hour.
If you remember PH you know what I’m going to say…
And Now The Rest Of The Story …
As I initiated the FB post, I told my friend… someone close to me will “melt down”. Will take severe umbrage and call me names. I don’t have that many FB friends so anyone who gets the first post will be someone “close”.
I didn’t expect what I got…
I grew up in a large, conservative yet very/ staunchly democratic household.
Catholic were were, counted 9 children we did.
3 sons and 6 daughters. Old fashioned but progressive.
My mother broke her familial taboos and was the first of her daughter-of-a-Greek-family to NOT go through an arranged marriage. She broke the taboo for the others to come. Her mother never forgave her.
An interesting observation I shall share… Most American believe everyone watches, envies and understand Americans. It is not so…
Most of the world shakes their heads, admires and is confused by “America”.
Americans can be terribly provincial/ ethnocentric. We know American’s suck at geography, and we know American’s are traditionally the least multilingual globe trotters.
My friend here has been commenting, questioning the going-ons in the USofA. The foolish rioting that is reported to be Peaceful Protesting. The idea that we will burn our beds to show how unhappy we are, then complain and blame others for not having a bed. That a Woman of Colour achieves the highest policing job in Seattle, to only resign because she had no support, was set up for failure. You can join a 1000-person peaceful protest but only 10 can attend a funeral. There are so many perplexing realties streaming out of the USA. And not everyone gets it. I sure as shit don’t!
The friend I speak of is an immigrant to Australia. Fiercely proud of the Australian citizenry, but unfailingly Nationalistic to the homeland and home language.
Now, an interesting fact about Australia… It is illegal to NOT vote. You shall be fined for failing to vote.
So we watch the USofA.
My life-long-to-date policy is to reserve my democratic vote, waiting for a worthy recipient of my democratic vote. I have not found one, to-date.
I don’t like the idea of voting against someone or something. I don’t care for the Two Party System in the US. I have studied and understand and support the Electoral Collage system for Presidential elections. It’s there for a reason.
I indeed have little doubt that the modern system in the USA is in a critical flux, a lot is going on and there is much at stake.
And… drum roll please… I might just vote this year. In fact… I just got on line and registered to vote. I’ll report on the progress as I travel…
The Rest of The Story… More Of The Story…
The “melt down” response I predicted was not the response I received. Of course I expected to have my rights of Free Speech revoked and my Intellect questioned and my Character impugned. And I got all of that more but, from, dare I say it… My favourite sister.
Connie, Holly, Judy, Molly, Angela – just joking.
Maybe it’s best to say, Jane is The Sister whom I am closest to.
I have 6 Sisters but due to life and time and space I am closer to some than others. My sister, Jane, has been a close friend, a confident, a partner in crime and a cool person for as long as I’ve known her.
We have done hallucinogens together. Gone on that cosmic search for Truth and Reason… in the back of a shag-carpeted Dodge Tradesman 300 van… Or was it a Ford Econoline?
She was a young hippy/ college gal with a little brother that hung around, and was supported by, housed by, fed by Sister Jane, more than once… you get the picture.
Jane is way cool. Her younger brother is way cool too…
We got older, remain friends, share friends and family and still enjoy each other. Jane and her Husband Mike are indeed high on the list of Longest-Serving-Fiends.
It’s nice when your family are your friends.
On the FB page there was a comment from my long-term-partner-in-crime, Willis Eschenbach. For the record WE’s comment was “another charming democrat heard from”.
THE El Dokotore’ and I been gigg’n, wankn n crankn, movn n groovn for more than a few decades. We’ve shared our unborn children, passionately discoursed most all topics known to man, worked together, for each other, with each other. In more than a couple countries. It’s been a long positive road. We too have done hallucinogens together.
When I posted the less than innocent question about Michelle Obama’s hair, I knew I’d get a bite. I expected too be yelled out, put in my place, told to sit in the corner.
As I watched the DNC National Convention today, listened to speakers tell me how divisive and negative and evil and terrible TheDonald is. Every speaker took a good fair kick at TheDonald. There was a large percentage of negativity and a smaller part of positivity, and perhaps an absence of integrity?
I heard very little “policy” specifics. TheBurn has APLAN but his plan is kinda rhetorical and even maybe fantasy. As a long term Democrat, I am embarrassed. Nothing of substance was offered, tabled in the time I paid attention.
TheDonald is the core of all n everything. It’s mostly antiTrump, there is not much in the way of solutions. It reinforces the intolerant attitudes pervading the planet.
So, as I end this, I consider that my FB Post was perhaps a bit mean, not nice. Cultural appropriation is a real thing but it’s mostly a small thing. I was more interested in seeing who would kick me hard for asking a basic question they did not like.
I’ll continue the thought of cultural appropriation in another post but for now all I can say is, DAMN!
I’m over 60 years of age and I am going to have a FIRST this year. DAMN!
The sun is shining. The skies are a gorgeous blue. The clouds are carefree and fast moving. It’s 19c/65f out. The winds are travelling in from snow-country. The breeze is brisk.
I’m hiding in my shed, cooking motorcycle parts. Am to the point with the 62 project where I can start thinking about paint and polish and reassembly.
As the winds gust and blow, the shed rattles and bangs. The wind chimes sing and dance in the breezes. They are happy. The delicate chiming in the background, but persistent at times. Like childish laughter.
It is a weird, wonderful world we abide within. The speed with which we see, and accept changes, is astounding. For the duration of my life, and the life of my parents’, and perhaps my grandparents’, change has been the norm. So many facets there-in, within The Change. Before “the change” was what? Change at a slower pace?
First post of the eight month. It’s overcast and chilly here in Qland. Rain has been predicted and its starting. Starting before I get far into my day. Starting before I get out of my nice warm granny-made blanket, get out of my pajamas, get moving into my day.
It’s coming down real good. The garden is loving it. It makes me want to stay where I am.
To recap my position on abortion: The fact that modern, legalised abortion has murdered over 25 million souls in the first 7 months of this year, and noting that a predicted over-40million legalised murders shall take place this calendar year, for the purpose, mainly, of convenience, is to me unconscionable. I understand the arguments, and quickly agree that there are circumstances where abortion is easily and readily acceptable. But I firmly believe that the majority of the abortions recorded are done for frivolous and selfish reasons. A syndrome of our “throw-away” society?
But I’m not here today to discuss the world wide waste of life. I’m aiming here to raise once again the fact that the planet has gone into lockdown over 716,516 deaths to the Kungflu. And I firmly believe the numbers of abortions are closer to factual than the numbers of deaths by Kungflu.
No doubt, the Kungflu is worthy of note and concern.
But the erosion of civil liberties, the pandemonium of spending, the radical actions and reactions taken, me-thinks, is misdirection at best and nefarious social engineering more than not.
Annually, we refuse a very large number of souls the right to life. The Right to Life. In my thinking this is huge. It spiritually damages us universally. It lessens our energetic foot print, it diminishes our humanity, it is worse than a sin.
And, as is common knowledge, the trends that lead the world tend to originate in the USofA… In the USA, where nearly half of pregnancies are unintended and four in 10 of these are terminated by abortion [1] , there are over 3,000 abortions per day. Twenty-two percent of all pregnancies in the USA (excluding miscarriages) end in abortion. [2]
So, in the US we see abortions still being an almost 2-to-1 bias in favour of legal abortions v Kungflu.
It’s now wet outside. Guess I wont go mow the lawn. I do have another bike to play with…
‘51 Triton project.
Ive owned this brick for seven years, have been working on it as a total rebuild project for at least 5years. It’s a deal gone-bad. My genius mechanic has tapped out. Walked away. I have rescue this gem. Ive managed to track down and collect about 75% of it. Hopefully in the next week or so I’ll manage to get its sum total collated and collected and in one pile. I’ll know where I can go from there.
My buddy DaveO brought his 56 Chevv by yesterday. He’s been rebuilding it for years. he can feel proud of the end result…
Weather so grand I’ve spent the last two days on two wheels. Yesterday was on-the-road for about 7 hours. Did about 500ks/ 300miles. Today did about 200k/125miles. I’ll probably go for a good ride tomorrow just to make it 3days running.
Riding makes you stronger, smarter, more aware, happier… I very much enjoy riding.
Riding makes me a bit sore n tired but I like it. I am out of shape. Have not been riding much at all.
It’s like tattooing, or the dentist… When you get off the bike at the end of a long run, it feels so good, you smile. When the Ink-Master turns the needle off, you smile. When the dentist tells you its all over, you smile.
When you stop the joyful pain and stress that is riding, you smile with relief. You feel as though you’ve earned your first beer. It’s perhaps a sense of accomplishment? With a pinch of having cheated death, again?
Or is it just my catholic upbringing. The suffering/ reward attitude that is a big part of Catholicism. I always figured that’s why Catholics kneel to so much. Reenforces the suffering/ reward lesson. Like having to eat your peas in order to get the cherry pie.
I always hated peas!
The birds here are noisy. In such fine weather all creatures great and small are hapi.
It was kinda chilly this morn (and yesterday) when I hit the road. The sunny skies are nice. But they promise warmth they do not have… Riding through the valleys, in the deep shade, its quite chilly. I wore fingerless gloves and at one point it got very cold.
Bikes and Ink… I dig both. Both make be hapi. And if you dont get it, I can’t explain it.
So… as parts of the USA burn, as the world’s boarders stay closed, as powder blues skies shine and the whispering wind tells seductive tales…
Wednesday morning on this side of the planet. The sun shines and the temps are brisk. It’s 9am and about 15c/ 60f. We live (most of the time) with the house open to the weather. Most of the rooms are very open to the outdoors, with large sliding doors and windows. It is rare for the house to be “closed-up”. We never turn the heat on. The chairs and sofas are covered with blankets and wraps. The beds have thick, heavy down comforters on them.
I actually get quite warm at night.
Gracie sleeps with three hot water bottles.
Our quiet suburban lifestyle is designed to take advantage of the climate here. We live indoors as much as we live outdoors. I’d just as soon cook outside as inside. I have a large fire pit where I cook regularly. Our property offers heaps of good firewood so we both clean up the trees and get to play around the fire, killing two nice birds with one strike of the match.
Yesterday I had the pleasure of sitting for two hours in the Dentist’s chair…
This getting old bullshit sure ain’t very fun, and the years of dental neglect of the past have surly caught up with me in my golden-years.
I must say though that the modern professional procedures are fantastic. I note that the ability and intelligence of the professionals is of high caliber. Not too long ago in recent history, I’d be pulling teeth, preparing for dentures. Now a’days its just two hours of mouth-wide-open, and you’re good as new.
So, as the 7th month wanes, evaporates, disappears… As the world remains in a historical and hysterical pandemic pandemonium… As the Liberal cities in the US0fA burn… I note a couple things of import…
I fear the political polarity, world wide, is becoming more, not less, extreme. I feel that each and every opposition party does little more than proclaim in a loud voice how bad the incumbents are managing affairs. Here in Aus we have a Liberal Federal Government. Labour controls half of the States.
The Federal Opposition is very noisy, pointing out the PM’s failings minute by minute, but I hear not suggestions for what would be a better path forward. If the spend too much keeping the ship of state afloat they are foolish. If they don’t spend enough they are heartless.
I watched parts of the AG, Bill Barr, in Congress today. I thought the behaviour of Congress was reprehensible. Talk about a kangaroo court. A witch trial. I say Damn. If this is where we are, if this is what passes for leadership, then HELL! We’re in a lot of trouble…
My day is relaxed. The weather, as usual, is pleasant. A GoldiLocks scenery where it aint too hot, aint too cold… just right.
Have a pot of lentil soup on the stove. Soup suits this weather. If it were colder it’d be much like Briton. If it were colder it’d be like New Zealand. If it were way, way, way colder it could, almost, kinda, maybe be like Iowa… But its the SunnyCoast, which is as good as it gets.
The NewZ is disheartening. World wide.
I have decided that discussing the statistics behind the KungFlu is meaningless, because the stats coming out are rubbish. Whats worse than rubbish? Worthless? Propaganda?
So rather than be disheartened, or morose, or even reflective… I’ll be fun… I’ll talk about fun stuff… https://youtu.be/uDbr1p0906I
Not sure how far this VideoLogging will reach. I’m doing it all very basically, which is obvious, and know a few hardware upgrades would do a lot. As well, my editing/ software skills are way-last-century.
Queensland is a very good place to be. The climate, where I live on the SunnyCoast, is as near to perfect as you can find. 300 days of sunshine annually. Lowest temps on rare, cold days reach 0c or freezing in f. Hottest days may break 100sf or 40sc. Daily temps vary at least 10 decrees c. Often more. So days are usually warm. Nights are usually pleasant. Annual rain fall is almost 1.5meters.
It’s a nice place to be.
I drove across the State yesterday.
Took Mr M and Mr A back to boarding school. Drove the back roads through some cool terrain. The further west we go the drier it gets. Nearer the coast there is much more wet. But out west, things can be rather dry.
This morn, Saturday here, is bright and shining. The rains that have been around leave the ground glistening with crystal dew drops. The air is clear and clean. There was a low lying fog earlier on. Thats all burnt off now. Could actually get quite warm today.
The Kung Flu news here is that the State boarders are opening up. Of course, the State of Victoria has recently been re-locked down. But the other States and Territories are opening up.
I note each person entering Queensland must complete an entry form. I’m sure the boarder will be physically overwhelmed. I heard on the radio that waiting time to cross is about 3 hours.
My Socio-Political blurb for the day…
How many folks have actually followed the “Black Lives Matter” movement? How many folks have done a bit of home work and researched what this legitimate organisation offers, suggests, and stands for… I strongly suggest you do before you start shouting slogans… Or donating $$$!!!
In their own words they state they wish to change the family system, restructure the communities we live in, and as near as I can tell, let things be run by women. ????
Now I’m not in terrible opposition to everything they say, Polcie brutality should end… but… BUT… their actions to date belie their rhetoric. I see this “mob” (not a legit movement) as a nihilistic arm of the long existing power-whores who have been battling for establishment control since way, way back… since before the 1800s, since before the War Between The States, since before the KKK and the segregation of the Southern States.
thoughts and opinions