Road Ragged

Be Damned "Service Engine" Light

2008-04-26T00:10:00.001-04:00

In Sept of 2006 I drove from Buffalo, NY to Portland, OR. In previous blogs I covered this adventure up until The Badlands.

So after getting a nice lesbian couple to take a photo of me in the Badlands, it was time to move on.

West! West, I drive. Be damned "Service Engine" light. Nag me no more.

So I continue west on I-90 till I get to a truck stop/restaurant in Rapid City, North Dakota. I go inside and have the usual truck stop fare and contemplate my next move. While I am paying the cashier I notice a guy who is dressed in strange clothes. I wonder what kind of weird cult he belongs to. I went back to the van.

Damned "Service Engine" light makes me nervous. I check my fluids for the 1000th time. I can only hope that the oil is good since I had it changed in Pennsylvania. The dip stick is fused into the dip stick tube. (Do you have another name for it?) In preparation of checking the transmission fluid, I warm the engine. I open the hood. "Where the hell is the transmission fluid??!!" I feel like an ass, looking and not finding. Some independent woman I am?

Okay... I give... where's a guy?

"Excuse me, could you help me with something?" I ask the next male who walks by me in the parking lot.

Cringing... I tell him of my quest. Of course, within 30 seconds he finds the transmission fluid dipstick. Egad...

We start talking the way two traveling strangers do. I notice that he was dressed strangely too. He told me that he was traveling with several people who were coming back from St Louis. They had just finished a two year excursion, retracing the steps of Louis and Clark 200 years previously. Ah... so that's the deal with the weird buckskin outfits.

What kind of freak wears strange clothes in public?

Okay... well... that would be me.

The buckskin clad freak introduced himself as Willow Bill. He was incredibly gregarious and invited me to convoy with his people. I said I'd think about it and he went in to eat.

Hmmmm.... I thought about it. I was alone on the road with a van of questionable condition. The engine light persisted. I had intended to go onto Yellowstone, but somehow I think it was better to travel with others.

I went inside and met the group. They were a motley group ranging in age from 15 to 50s.

The two oldest in the group were brothers, and the younger one Tom, seemed to delight in annoying the older one. The other brother's wife was there. I can't remember her name either. Idaho Jim was the "cult member" that I saw earlier. The 15 year old was Clayton. He was home schooled by his mother, but she let him run off with these canoe-paddling maniacs for a few months. How cool is that. I think there were 6 or 7 of them that were packed into a small camper. I now saw Willow Bill's ulterior motive. I had room in my van for two passengers.

7 or so people in this camper.

On and off for two years these people have been hanging together. Their trip was done and now they wanted to go home. The older of the two brothers had about had it and wanted to get back home, NOW! He was getting cranky and was not the most ideal traveling companion.

So when we left Rapid City I had Willow Bill with me, and soon after I also had Idaho Jim in tow. Occasionally Clayton would trade off with either of them, so I always had two of the guys with me.

It was nice to have someone to talk with, and they certainly had some interesting stories to tell. I heard stories of people, places and a lot of canoeing. If you read the journals of Lewis and Clark you know the route they took. Only now, they had fewer natives to deal with and more dams. They told me how different the Missouri River is when you look at it from inches above. The pollution in the river was not an abstract concept, but a real issue that they saw up close. They told me about the people they met along the way and how they helped them in so many ways. I learned how they make dugout canoes, and how they figure out which side of the log to carve out. They told me about disasters, fiascos and wonderful coincidences.

It all made my drive from Buffalo to Portland seem pathetically simple.

Our first stop was Mount Rushmore. Tom's brother was anxious to get moving, so we did not pay to go into the park. I took some photos from a distance. In and out.

Then we drove through Deadwood, South Dakota. Deadwood is a great television show. We didn't stop, but officially I can say I was there.

We followed 1-90 into Wyoming. Then we followed it north to Montana, eventually ending up in Livingston, MT where we spent the night.

We stopped at the home of a family that they group had met months earlier on their way to St. Louis. I parked my van on the street in front of their home. The family was gracious and was happy to feed a group of people they barely knew.

Before dinner Tom, Willow Bill, and Idaho Jim went to a local bar to have a drink. It was a micro brewery. The place was empty except for us. Somewhere I still have a coaster from this place. I sat at one end of the bar and enjoyed a beer with Tom. I had a front row seat to see lust in action.

The bar maid was an obscenely sexy, black haired tattooed babe. Idaho Jim and this woman made this huge love connection and were making out at the bar within a short period of time. If you went by looks alone it would appear like they would never be interested in each other. Jim looks like a bearded mountain man and she looked like she walked off the cover of Skin Art magazine. Jim later told me that he felt a spiritual connection with this woman. Go figure. This sort of thing never happens to me.

Off-hand info I learned: Margot Kidder lives in Livington, MT.

The next morning I went with Tom, Willow Bill, Clayton, and Idaho Jim to a local elementary school. Part of the whole aim of the excursion was education. They spoke with someone in the school office and got permission to speak to a class about Lewis and Clark. I think they were first graders. The children completely mesmerized by the guys. Willow Bill really enjoyed talking to the kids, and I think the kids really dug the stories. I wish I could find the photographs that I took.

Then we continued through Montana. When we got past Butte, we turned off onto Route 12. By this time, I had been letting Willow Bill and Idaho Jim drive. Willow Bill found the steering was a bit sloppy for his taste, but Idaho Jim adapted to it without a problem. It was nice to being in the passenger seat enjoying the scenery.

Willow Bill driving my van

As we went through Idaho on Route 12, I knew I was going home. The road went up and down through evergreen forests. When I had questions about the terrain or anything I saw, Idaho Jim knew the answers. He even regaled me with Native American legends along the way.

The Pacific Northwest felt so damned right.

Idaho Jim and Willow Bill

We stopped along the way to visit a site related to Lewis and Clark. I can't remember the name of this place or where exactly it is at.

Idaho Jim and Clayton

Clayton and Jim getting into the spirit of Lewis and Clark

Finally we made our way to Lewiston, Idaho. This is where Jim and Tom called home. This is where the story takes another weird turn. This is for another blog.

My van in front of Idaho Jim's house.

In my previous blogs about this trip, I mentioned how completely blessed I was. Even when "bad" things happened, good people appeared. This trended continued to an amazing degree as you will see in the next segment.

Badass Badlands

2007-11-30T17:33:00.000-05:00

As of September 30th, I have been living in Oregon for a year. I must say, it has been a very good year. I took a lot of photos along the way to remember the drive out here. In the last blog about the trip I was only as far as Mitchell, SD.

So let's speed things up. I made it to the Badlands. If you ever get a chance to go, I highly recommend it. It is an incredible place. I was only there for a short time but I was impressed.

I took these photos with a disposable camera as the sun was setting.

I found a couple of strangers to take my photo.

I copied this from the official website: Containing the world's richest Oligocene epoch fossil beds, dating 37-28 million years old, the evolutionary stories of mammals such as the horse and rhinoceros arise from the 244,000 acres of sharply eroded buttes, pinnacles, and spires. Bison, bighorn sheep, endangered black-footed ferrets, and swift fox roam one of the largest, protected mixed-grass prairies in the United States.

I wish I had more time to spend there, but I was hell bent on getting to Oregon.

Mitchell, South Dakota

2007-06-25T19:33:00.000-04:00

On my drive out to Oregon last year I stopped in Mitchell, South Dakota. My engine light kept nagging me, so I stopped to get it worked on.

Being stuck, I checked out the local color.

They are very proud of their Corn Palace. Every year they change the mosaic on the outside of the auditorium. It is made out of several different kinds of corn.

I loved the dinosaur.

I got my van fixed here.

I played ball with a crippled dog while I waited. I kid you not. They called him Lucky. He was run over by a trailer.

When they were done, one of the mechanics got in my van to back it out of the garage. The van would not start. It turned out that the starter solinoid bit the dust right there in the garage.

Funny... it could have waited to die and gotten me stranded somewhere. It did it right there in the garage, so I got it fixed right away. What a strange blessing.

The mechanic knew I came from a place that puts salt on the roads. He said the solinod practically dissolved into a pile of rust.

My trip was full of many blessings.

Things I learned in Wisconsin

2007-01-10T19:04:00.000-05:00

In the saga of my trip out here, I left you hanging. So let's continue.

I had left Cleveland and Dave the Mechanic. By the way, I took your advice and mailed him a copy of the blog. He was "very touched" (his words). He is doing well and he has a new pit bull. I spoke to him just after Christmas.

I survived the harrowing rush hour trip through Chicago. (at midnight)

I escaped Chicago and made it as far as Wisconsin. I parked in the parking lot of a Walmart and slept like a rock. The next morning I got up and bought some food and a flaming pink plastic bowl to pour my cereal in. I still have the bowl.

I became very intimate with Walmart parking lots. I especially liked the 24 hour Walmarts. I could get up in the middle of the night and use a civilized toilet.

I was nestled safely between RVs and Travel Queens.

I headed out on the road bright and early. I came across this sign at a Wisconsin rest area.

I think it is important to learn something every day.

Cleveland to Chicago

2006-11-10T00:34:00.000-05:00

This photo was taken at a rest area somewhere in Ohio. What I remember about this place is that I could smell the grapes in the air. It reminded me of the smell of a grape Jolly Roger. That's lake Erie in the background.

Okay... so where was I? I left Dave the Mechanic's house around noonish. At this point I just want to get out of Ohio. The van seems to be running okay, but it is a bit loud. Dave couldn't get the cowling down tight enough on the engine. So the noise is a dull roar. I can't play the radio loud enough to drown the noise out, so I just drive in silence (so to speak)

The trip through the rest of the state is uneventful. All I have to do is keep the van headed west on I-90 and I'm good. I stop at a rest area on the Ohio turnpike and for 50 cents I get an official Ohio Turnpike squished penny. It is now part of an embarrassingly large squished penny collection. Coin collectors refer to them as elongated coins.

So anyways I get through Ohio. The trip is noisy and I can still smell a hint of gas. The service engine light remains on.

I get through Indiana. Gary is as smelly and industrial as I remember it. It looks like it is on fire at night. Flames from factories light up the city like the torches of the angry mob in the movie Frankenstein. (How's that for a ridiculous visual)

I've mentioned before that I used to drive truck for a living. I knew that Chicago was not fun to drive through from previous experience. It was late and I wanted to get miles behind me. I thought that driving through Chicago at midnight was a good idea. Less traffic... less stress.

Ha! Yeah right. It was a Friday or Saturday night (I can't remember off hand) To keep things simple I stick to I-90 (at least I think I did... it was all a blur). The interstate in the Chicagoland area is always under construction... even in the middle of the night. The traffic was unbelievable. I was in gridlock... a goddamn traffic jam... at midnight. Then when the traffic was actually moving it was going 20mph over the speed limit over lumpy, crappy roads. Everything was being redone so the lanes would shift. Nobody cared. It was dark. I couldn't see the lines on the road. The lanes were narrow. I was doing 60 through a constuction zone and everyone was passing me. I could sense the aggession all around me. "Faster! Faster! Faster," everyone seemed to be saying.

What the hell was the hurry. Sheesh! I felt lucky to be alive when I got out of Chicago.

I will say this... Chicago has the most amazing skyline. It's beautiful.

After I got out of Illinois I stopped somewhere in Wisconsin. I parked the van in a 24 hour Walmart parking lot and slept the sleep of the dead.

To be continued...

Adventures in Cleveland

2006-11-10T00:29:00.000-05:00

After my brief trip back through time I blazed a trail out of Buffalo. I gassed up the van in Irving, NY at an Indian reservation. This was Sept 21st.

As you have already seen, I was driving a 1994 Ford Econoline halfback van. My good friend Michael sold it to me with the stipulation that I would pay him for it once I got settled in Oregon. It had many miles on it because it had made a few trips from Buffalo to Florida.

"Will it make it over the Rockies?" I asked.

"Yes it will," Mike replied.

So off I went.

I stopped in Erie, PA to get the oil changed. I had no way of checking the oil on the trip, as the dipstick was rusted into place. I also had the windshield wipers replaced.

Since I had left late, it was evening when I got to Cleveland. Everything was fine till I got to Deadman's Curve. If you live in Cleveland, you know what I'm talking about. The locals call it Deadman's Curve for a good reason. The interstate planners were dong drugs the day they planned this stretch of road. I-90 goes along nicely, then suddenly makes a left hand turn. Oh sure there are flashing yellow lights and warning signs, but so many people ignore them. There are four lanes of madness rounding this corner at the same time. The scrapes on the abutment wall are a testament to how many cars did not safely negotiate it.

I used to drive truck for a living, so I knew this was coming. It's always a bit tense, but I negotiated this stretch of road without incident. The problem started when I hit the gas to speed up again.

"Sputter – sputter," said the van.

***pumps gas pedal***

"Sputter – sputter," the van repeated.

When I pressed on the gas pedal it actually slowed me down. The van idled faster. I put on my flashers and managed to nurse the van onto an off ramp before it died completely.

Now What !!??!

I sat there for a moment and contemplated my situation. When I got out and looked around, there wasn't much to see. At the top of the ramp was some sort of college. It was dark and nobody was around. So I went back to the van, got my purse and locked up. I figured I'd be doing a bit of walking.

The only sign of life in the area was a BP gas station on the other side of the interstate. With all my worldly possessions sitting forlornly in a broken down van, I trekked off to the gas station.

When I got to the station, I found a short black man in a Plexiglas box. His name was Vince.

After explaining my situation to him he said, "You know, I know a guy, but I don't have his number on me. I can tell you where he lives. Do you drive a stick shift?"

"No." (I know that sounds odd… but a truck shifts differently from a car)

"I was going to trust you with my car. Oh well. I hate to send you walkin' in the night, but he's not too far."

After taking care of a couple of customers, he left the safety of his lexan cocoon. He pointed down the road and said, "You go down here to where the road ends. Cross over, you'll see a magazine place. It's right across the street. Then you'll see a little brick road. Go down that…"

I left with a clutter of information floating around my brain. I followed the directions. I found the little brick road, but never saw a magazine place. I found the little white house and a whole bunch of cars parked. I was pretty sure that I was in the right place, but everything was dark. I was 50 feet down the road when I saw a car pull up in front of the white house and a guy gets out. The car leaves and I approach him.

"Hi, I'm looking for a guy named Dave. Does he live around here?"

"Yeah, I'm Dave."

I give him a run down of my problem and he invites me into his home. It's very clean and neat inside. He makes a call to his tow truck guy. The tow truck guy was just getting ready to head home for the night, but agreed to come and get my van. When the tow truck arrives at Dave's house, there are three men inside, the driver and his two sons. I wedge my way in and we're off to find my van. The driver told me, "Dave's a great guy, but I can't work with him. He's a bit of a neat freak. He cleans his tools." After turning around on the interstate a couple of times, we find the right exit and bring the van back to Dave's. He charged me $50.00

It's around 9:30 or 10:00 at night and Dave asks me where I'm staying for the night. I tell him I'm sleeping in the van. "I won't hear of it," he says. He tells me I can stay at his place. "Do you drink beer?" he asks me. So we're off to the local store, where he buys a couple of 40 ouncers. We come back to his place, drink beer, talk and watch TV for a bit.

He told me that he was an ex-Marine, he had just broken up with his girlfriend, he was on probation because of his dog and his pit bull was in jail. His pit bull bit someone twice in a month. He showed me photos of the dog, but not the girlfriend.

He only had chairs… no couches. So when it was time for bed, Dave pulled out some blankets and a sleeping bag from his closet and set it up on the floor. The sleeping bag was one of those military ones that weigh 20 pounds. I think I could have survived a blizzard in this thing. The whole set up was comfortable enough, and I slept well.

Dave's House

Dave's Gate

This is the weird thing. You would think that I would be nervous or scared. Here I was somewhere on the Eastside of Cleveland, sleeping on the floor of some black guy that I just met. I didn't feel that way at all. I felt safe. I don't know, maybe my "danger" button is broken.

We get up early the next morning. Dave fixes me a bowl of Honey Comb cereal and some toast for breakfast. We end up talking a bullshitting for over an hour. He tells me of his world adventures with the Marines. I tell him of Florida and my exodus from Buffalo. Eventually he gets set to go out and look at my van. Before he does that he runs me a bath. Because he had leaks in his plumbing system he turned his water on and off. But still, how weird is it to have a man you barely know, run you a bath. So while he went out to work on the van, I got myself cleaned up.

Dave's Feet

It turned out that the fuel pump was the culprit. The fuel pump was fairly new, but Dave said that whoever installed it was in a hurry. Connections were loose and some ring wasn't tightened down properly. When I slowed down for Deadman's curve it probably shifted stuff enough that it came loose completely. So Dave took care of that. Then we walked down to the parts store and bought a new air filter, breather filter and an EGC valve. Dave charged me $60.00 for everything. I got a Bed and Breakfast along with auto repair. You can't even get a decent room for $60.00 these days.

Dave

I thanked him profusely before I left. I also got his address so I could mail him a postcard. To bad he didn't have internet, so he could see this blog.

The whole trip to Oregon was one blessing after another. Dave was part of a chain of many people who made my move possible. And to all of them I am very grateful.

...and the beat goes on...

2006-10-16T19:46:00.000-04:00

I want to thank everyone for the great comments and positive vibes.

I've been here for two weeks and I'm starting to feel normal again. I have an Oregon driver's license and library card. I have an apartment, but I have to wait to move in. They're still cleaning and fixing it up. The apartment number is 13. I love that. I have a temp job for 10 bucks and hour that starts on the 18th and I'm interviewing for a job that pays a lot more on Tuesday. So I'm starting for feel like everything is falling into place.

I feel like I have been amazingly blessed. The trip out here could have been disasterous, but kind people helped me along the way. Since I've been here everyone has been so nice to me. People have given and loaned me things. I'm staying at a friend's place free of charge. People have given me towels, blankets, houseplants, and kitchen appliances. How could I ever repay everyone's kindness?

Here's some photos from my last day in Buffalo.

The house I used to live in.

The van I drove out in.

The room I stayed in.

I was born in Buffalo, but raised in Florida. When my parents split up in 1980 I came back up here with my mother. I ended up living at 1391 Broadway. It is an empty lot now. I decided to pay it a visit just before I left the city for the last time.

This image was taken a couple days before. The movement of the car I was in distorted the image.

Even the house next door is abandoned.

I don't ever remember it being a good neighborhood to begin with.

It was stange to stand in a space that used to be my home. It felt like part of my past had decayed and blew away in the wind.

It was good to look one last time at the past before I moved on to the future.

Mount Rushmore

2006-09-26T22:36:00.000-04:00

Mount Rushmore

It was a quick visit, but the sculpture is amazing.

2006-09-25T11:42:00.000-04:00

Getting the van fixed in Mitchell

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2006-09-24T19:02:00.000-04:00

Mitchell, SD on Sunday

2006-09-24T18:56:00.000-04:00

The Mississippi

2006-09-22T09:36:00.000-04:00

Homeless woman in Cleveland

2006-09-22T09:34:00.000-04:00

Van broke down in Cleveland

2006-09-22T09:20:00.000-04:00

Oil change

2006-09-21T15:59:00.000-04:00

I could smell the grapes @ the PA line

2006-09-21T15:53:00.000-04:00

Last stop in NY

2006-09-21T15:52:00.000-04:00

Indian Rez odometer 14o2o8.6

2006-09-21T15:49:00.000-04:00

Irving, NY first fill up

Open Bags of Potato Chips

2006-09-13T21:47:00.000-04:00

My adventure is less than a week away. I'm glad to be getting out of here. Living with my mother and her boyfriend is really getting to me. It is a toxic environment - physically and emotionally - and I think both have taken their toll on my body.

They both smoke... Jamie chain smokes. I can't breath. I've been breathing in so much smoke, I'm sure I will go through withdrawl when I get out of here.

These people eat crap all the time. This house is never without ice cream, doughnuts, potato chips, dead animal flesh or bland white bread products. I can only do so much to resist. How can I walk away from an open bag of potato chips? I've been eating like shit.

I've gained weight and my digestive system has gone to hell. Half of it is the toxic overload of the food I've been eating and half of it is the stress of living here. My stomach always hurts. Sometimes I think I eat just to stop the pain in my stomach for a little while.

I have fantasies of my own apartment.... my own kitchen. When I'm in the store I can resist buying potato chips (the bags are always closed) I won't buy the toxic nutrient devoided, white bread products any more. Nestle products will be forbidden. I won't have to listen to my mother saying, "You're such a fanatic." There will be no dead cows in my kitchen. "They kill the cows anyways." I will buy can after can of artichoke hearts. "You spend money like you have it." Fuck it... I'll buy fresh artichokes!!! ... and avocados... and asparagus... and raspberries. I would buy vegetables that I never heard of.

There will be NO smoking in my apartment. And God help anyone I catch smoking outside my apartment door. I'll be like, "You want to smoke, you crazy suicidal bastard!!!" Then I would set their hair on fire. I would do time for assault, but then when I got back, no one would dare smoke near me. Then I could breath clean air. Ahhhhh.

I would go out and buy a houseplant. I would be responsible for another life. I would feel so adult.

Speaking of being an adult... I would go out and buy small appliances. I have fantasies of 12 horse power food processors. Weeeee!! I could puree bricks.

In reality... when I get to Portland I have to FIND and apartment, and FIND a job... so I can buy brick pureeing food processors.

Embrace the new.

Embrace the new

2006-09-12T21:44:00.000-04:00

On September 20, 2006 I drive off into the Sunset. I'm leaving Buffalo for good. Packing all my worldly possessions in the back of a rented vehicle, I'm hitting the road and driving west. I won't stop till I get to Portland Oregon. When I get there, there is nothing certain. I sort of have a place to stay. I'm sure I'll be able to get some sort of employment. Nothing is certain though, nothing is carved in stone.

Along the way I'm sure to have minor adventures. Hopefully none of them involve blood or physical pain or finanacial hardship.

I'm leaving Buffalo behind, but as I drive west I am driving into the unknown.

Along the way I intend to visit the Badlands in South Dakota.

I also am going to see Yellowstone National Park.

I will be driving by myself, enjoying my solitary adventure. However, I will occasionally post photos here with my camera phone. So you might be able to enjoy my trip with me.

This is the Portland skyline with Mount Hood in the background.

This is Hell's Canyon. It looks closer to heaven to me.

This is the Oregon coastline. I have never seen the Pacific Ocean.

I'm totally excited about my future. I have so much to look forward to.

Fearmongering

2006-08-10T08:35:00.000-04:00

A frightened populace is an easy to manipulate populace.

"I am so afraid. Please, please make me safe. You can have my rights. I'm not using them anyway."

Ooooooo... more terrorists. Who is it this time? The Chinese? The Lebonese? The Sudanese? The Japanese? The Serbians? The Mexicans? Yosemite Sam? Doctor No? They are different, therefore I fear them.

"Please protect me from the bad men."

Who benefits from our terror? This is the question we all must be asking. The people who are being accused of terrorism do not seem to be benefitting from their actions.

Who gets the power? Who gets the money?

So they put everyone through the security dog and pony show at the airport. I do not feel safer.

I feel oppressed.

Ancient Wisdom

2006-08-09T08:11:00.000-04:00

Those who advise good leaders
Tell them not to rely on military might
to conquer their enemies.
Acts of war lead to acts of revenge.
Where armies have marched
the soil is barren
and briars clog the land.
Hunger and poverty ensue.

Lao Tzu

What a load of shit!

2006-07-08T16:40:00.000-04:00

What does the Bible say about women?

1. What is a woman's role in the church?

(A woman is never to open her mouth in church. She has nothing valuable to say and should limit her participation to asking her husband to explain things to her)

"Let your women keep silence in the churches: for it is not permitted unto them to speak; but they are commanded to be under obedience, as also saith the law. And if they will learn any thing, let them ask their husbands at home: for it is a shame for women to speak in the church" (1 Corinthians 14:34-35).

2. What is a woman's role in the educational process?

(Women should never be teachers because they are easily deceived)

"Let the woman learn in silence with all subjection. But I suffer not a woman to teach, nor to usurp authority over the man, but to be in silence. For Adam was first formed, then Eve. And Adam was not deceived, but the woman being deceived was in the transgression" (1 Timothy 2:11-14).

3. Is a wife permitted to follow her own conscience?

(A woman must obey her husband in all matters at all times)

"Wives, submit yourselves unto your own husbands, as unto the Lord. For the husband is the head of the wife, even as Christ is the head of the church: and he is the saviour of the body. Therefore as the church is subject unto Christ, so let the wives be to their husbands in every thing" (Ephesians 5:22-24). "But I would have you know, that the head of every man is Christ; and the head of the woman is the man; and the head of Christ is God" (1 Corinthians 11:3). "Wives, submit yourselves unto your own husbands, as it is fit in the Lord" (Colossians 3:18).

4. In God's eyes, who is worth more between women and men?

(God expressly says men are worth more, and actually provides dollar amounts proving this)

"And the Lord spake unto Moses, saying, Speak unto the children of Israel, and say unto them, When a man shall make a singular vow, the persons shall be for the Lord by thy estimation. And thy estimation shall be of the male from twenty years old even unto sixty years old, even thy estimation shall be fifty shekels of silver, after the shekel of the sanctuary. And if it be a female, then thy estimation shall be thirty shekels. And if it be from a month old even unto five years old, then thy estimation shall be of the male five shekels of silver, and for the female thy estimation shall be three shekels of silver. And if it be from sixty years old and above, if it be a male, then thy estimation shall be fifteen shekels, and for the female, ten shekels" (Leviticus 27:1-7)

5. What is the role of a widow?

(She should be depressed and pray day and night)

Now she that is a widow indeed, and desolate, trusteth in God, and continueth in supplications and prayers night and day. But she that liveth in pleasure is dead while she liveth" (1 Timothy 5:5-6).

6. How long is a woman unclean after the messy act of childbirth?

(The woman is unclean for seven days if the child is a boy, but she is unclean for twice as long if the child is a girl)

"And the Lord spake unto Moses, saying, Speak unto the children of Israel, saying, If a woman have conceived seed, and born a man child: then she shall be unclean seven days . . . But if she bare a maid child, then she shall be unclean two weeks" (Leviticus 12:1-5).

7. What are the requirements for a woman's physical appearance?

(A woman must dress modestly and refrain from wearing expensive jewelry and a woman should wear her hair long)

"In like manner also, that women adorn themselves in modest apparel, with shamefacedness and sobriety; not with broided hair, or gold, or pearls, or costly array" (1 Timothy 2:9). "But if a woman have long hair, it is a glory to her: for her hair is given her for a covering" (1 Corinthians 11:15).

8. Can you trust a woman's promises or guarantees?

(No, because women are deceitful and manipulative and because a woman's promise is null and void if her husband disapproves of it)

"And I find more bitter than death the woman, whose heart is snares and nets, and her hands as bands: whoso pleaseth God shall escape from her; but the sinner shall be taken by her" (Ecclesiastes 7:26). "But if her husband hath utterly made them void on the day he heard them; then whatsoever proceeded out of her lips concerning her vows, or concerning the bond of her soul, shall not stand: her husband hath made them void; and the Lord shall forgive her" (Numbers 30:12).

9. Under what circumstances are we to spare the life of a married or engaged woman who has been raped?

(When the woman is raped in the country as opposed to the city or when the woman is a slave girl)

"If a damsel that is a virgin be betrothed unto an husband, and a man find her in the city, and lie with her; Then ye shall bring them both out onto the gate of that city, and ye shall stone them with stones that they die; the damsel, because she cried not, being in the city . . . But if a man find a betrothed damsel in the field, and the man force her, and lie with her: then the man only that lay with her shall die . . . For he found her in the field, and the betrothed damsel cried, and there was none to save her" (Deuteronomy 22:23-27). And whosoever lieth carnally with a woman, that is a bondmaid, betrothed to an husband, and not at all redeemed, nor freedom given her; she shall be scourged; they shall not be put to death, because she was not free" (Leviticus 19:20).

10. In times of war, what is God's plight for women in the captured areas?

(While the men are to be killed, the women are to be taken as slaves. Pretty women are to become the wives of conquering men who find them attractive. Women in places the Lord gives His chosen people as an inheritance are to be killed along with every other living thing)

"And when the Lord thy God hath delivered [a city] into thine hands, thou shalt smite every male thereof with the edge of the sword: But the women, and the little ones . . . shalt thou take unto thyself . . . But of the cities of these people, which the Lord thy God doth give thee for an inheritance, thou shalt save alive nothing that breatheth" (Deuteronomy 20:13-16). "When thou goest forth to war against thine enemies . . . And seest among the captives a beautiful woman, and hast a desire unto her, that thou wouldest have her to thy wife; Then thou shalt bring her home to thine house . . . thou shalt go in unto her, and be her husband, and she shall be thy wife" (Deuteronomy 21:10-13).

I'm glad I am not a christian...

Hot Damn! Mobile Blogging works!

2006-07-07T15:18:00.000-04:00

Checking it out.

Where did all the forks go?

2006-06-30T10:43:00.000-04:00

I dreamt there were no forks. I opened up the silverware drawer in the kitchen and all the forks were missing. There were soup spoons, butter knives, tablespoons, serving spoons, and teaspoons. All were in their appointed slot. But there was a gap, an empty slot where the forks used to be.
In my dream I wasn't alarmed by this, just curious. Where did all the forks go? Then I noticed that all the steak knives were gone too. Come to think of it, all the knives were gone. The butcher block stood empty on the counter. All things sharp and pointy were gone.
I had nothing to poke or cut with. The world became smooth and rounded. I decided that I could make due without proper tools. If something needed poking or cutting, I would just pick it up with my hands and use my teeth.
It was like someone decided that I could not be trusted with sharp objects. I had butter knives but the ends were rounded and the blades were dull. It wasn't just my kitchen. Somehow in my dream I knew that all the forks and knives were missing. There would be no more poking and cutting.
I could see my life laid out before me without the use of sharpness. It was like a man using a pipe wrench as a hammer, inefficient and clumsy. Things would get done, but in a rough and ill mannered way.
Emily Post would cringe at the sight of a forkless, knifeless dinner table... greasy hands grappling with all manner of meats. We would tear off large bites in our mouths, chewing loudly. There would be no toothpicks to poke out chunks of flesh from between our teeth. The shishkabab would be a thing of the past. How would we fondue with no fondue forks.
Without needles how would we sew? When the clothes we had wore out we could not make new things. Men would grow long beards without razors. Hair would grow long without shears. Without nails and saws how would we build our homes? People would resort to chewing their toenails off.
With the world round and smooth there are no sharp edges to cut ourselves on. The world is safe and risk free. Yet, we are reduced to primative naked lives. In a risk free world we are but lost animals. We would starve, unclad, cold, exposed. Without houses, clothes, we would die.
So where did all the forks go?

What would Jesus do?

2006-06-17T13:10:00.000-04:00

Citizen Jesus by Retta Fontana

Exclusive to STR"Beware of false prophets, who come to you in sheep's clothing but inwardly are ravenous wolves." The administration of George W. Bush is purportedly based on Christian principles. It would seem logical then to assume that were Christ actually alive today, he would likely advance successfully in this administration, would it not?

Would Jesus have made a good bureaucrat?Jesus did not have tremendous career potential from the beginning. An unmarried woman conceived him after all. (What Christian politician would condone this, much less hail her as a woman of God?) Jesus only survived into adulthood because his parents subverted the state. (King Herrod wanted all male babies dead and his parents refused to comply - imagine! Not only that, but the people who helped save his young life were harboring a criminal, making them outlaws as well.)So, the worst youthful offense of the Christ child was being alive. This sounds insane. Is it possible that anything like that could happen again? Indeed, it's happened throughout history. Children have been slaughtered at the behest of politicos in countless regimes one way or another, even today in Iraq .

The current Christian administration dubs the death of innocents "collateral damage." (It reminds me of my daughter Ã¢ when she was a tiny bit of a girl and she dropped something sheÃ¢d say, "oopsie!") If Jesus were born in the Middle East today, it is questionable as to whether his parents could have kept him alive. One of his more famous quotes: "Suffer the little children to come unto me, for unless you become as one of them, you shall not see the kingdom of heaven." From he beginning Jesus defied established religion and the state by virtue of his existence, and it just got worse from there. He was no Yale man of the "Skull and Crossbones."Jesus compromised his beliefs for no one. He couldnÃ¢t lie, he couldn't even keep his mouth shut when people around him were judged and condemned. He aligned himself with the downtrodden and stood against tyranny - religious and political. Even under intense pressure from both, he refused to condemn people who harmed no one but them selves. He was a model of individualism and self-sovereignty.

Would Jesus have made a good soldier?I can't say for sure, but I think it would be difficult to get anyone in your cross hairs when you're turning the other cheek. A preemptive strike was the antithesis of Jesus' foreign policy. He didnÃ¢t even object when they cuffed and dragged him away to die. His dying breath was an expression of love, not allegiance to the state.

Would Jesus even have made a good citizen?Hardly. He wouldn't even be an acceptable, Republican-approved audience member. Can you see him keeping good tax records or sweating a filing deadline? Waiting in line at the DMV with proof of insurance? I donÃ¢t think he'd have a Social Security number, an interest-only mortgage or a stellar credit rating. Can you see Jesus applying for a voter registration, the hallmark of a good citizen? A registered Republican voting for his new master?Jesus once stood mute before Pontius Pilate. Would he have anything to say for himself when inevitably picked up by law enforcement today? But what on earth could the Prince of Peace be arrested for in the most enlightened, tolerant, advanced, Christian culture on Earth? Purchasing wine on a Sunday morning? Sorry, that's a no-no. Changing water into wine? Got a license for that, buddy? ThereÃ¢s an entire bureaucracy making its collective living regulating alcohol. What about a food-handlers permit and a fishing license, hmmm?

Healing the blind and the sick? That would be practicing medicine with out a license, a very grave crime, indeed. How would the AMA, the pharmaceutical industry and the FDA like them apples? "Crucify him!" comes to mind, at least in the press. Jesus would no doubt have come under surveillance by the current Christian administration for associating with prostitutes and drug users, because he was the kind of man who would not judge them or turn them in to authorities like a good citizen. He would have put out a welcoming hand to them and called them "brother." Jesus would be lucky to only be picked up for vagrancy and driven out of town, rather than prosecuted repeatedly and locked up permanently under the three strikes law if he were an American today. I doubt he would have expended much effort fulfilling the requirements of his parole if he ever got out. God help him if he were an immigrant Ã¢ sounds like a possible enemy combatant Ã¢ they could just throw away the key.

Maybe Jesus could have made the grade as a minister in today's church?Jesus claimed God was his father. When David Koresh tried that in the '90s, he and his followers were labeled a "cult." With thin, trumped up charges, their homes and lives were reduced to ashes without a whimper of protest from mainstream religion or media. (Oh, were children killed again? Oopsie!) It wouldn't be surprising if the religious masses of today demanded Jesus' life for such heresy again, as they did so long ago.There is no proof or inference, even, that Jesus came here to start a new religion called "Christianity." He showed no desire to organize or control others. No desire to incorporate. No desire to rub elbows with important people or amass wealth (he stored for himself treasures in heaven, not on earth where moth and dust corrupts). No desire to dominate the world through a quasi-religious political party, crushing innocents in its cogs. Jesus displayed no capacity for sending other mother's sons to die for a power lust. He blessed the meek and the peacemakers. He supported only that which had vitality, not expediency.Jesus' worst crime was and would still be that he taught his followers to listen to the love in their own hearts rather than follow the law; utterly unacceptable behavior in our advancing police state.

I believe Jesus came here to show people how to love, not dominate. There would still be no room for Jesus at the "inn" crowd.Rather than a prestigious political appointment and cushy government benefit/retirement package for life, I think Jesus might have been found in a tent at Camp Casey , and been banned and booted out the same as the others. He didn't find favor with powerful men 2,000 years ago; I don't think he would have fared any better today because he was a troublemaker. He never learned the art of "going along to get along," essential to political success.They could take his life and liberty, but they could not own his soul. He was not afraid of powerful men; this made them afraid of him. He frightened the self-righteous because he knew the truth about the deceitfulness of power, religious and political (if there is any difference) and he refused to kowtow to it. How odd that today he is heralded as the icon of the religious right, in name only, of course, because his manner of living was diametrically opposed to everything the Bush Administration espouses.

"You shall know the truth, and the truth shall set you free."

Why I love gardening...

2005-12-04T18:43:00.000-05:00

Smoking...

2005-11-25T20:26:00.000-05:00

This poor bastard is going to die of cancer or emphasema. It is a shame that such a talented actor has to go and kill himself with cigarettes.

Fear equals Profit

2005-11-25T19:14:00.000-05:00

One of my jobs is at a very large, very prestigious cancer hospital. The place is so big that they refer to it as a medical campus. The buildings are new and architecturally beautiful. New buildings are going up. Some days when I walk in I am greeted by piano music being played on a grand piano. The gift shop sells expensive, pretty gifts. The hospital cafeteria is so cheap that they charge extra for a Styrofoam plate.

On day on the way into work, I was struck by the horror of it all. The place was built by frightened sick people. Doctors, administrators, and pharmaceutical corporations were all making a mint. People who were scared out of their wits were forking over big money to have their lives saved. It started with... First do no harm. Now, the medical establishment is a huge bulky corporation whose goal is to make shareholders money. Saving lives is secondary. Building pretty buildings and cushy offices is far more important.

But when you are sick with cancer, you are scared. You want someone with a degree on the wall and a white lab coat to come and save you. You will listen to whatever he says. You will take the pills of whatever pharmaceutical company is paying him the biggest kickback. Shareholders will make money selling you a five cent pill for twenty dollars. You will let them inject poison in your body... all for a hope and a prayer that you may live another year. Doctors pay for expensive malpractice insurance policies. Insurance companies get fat.

Somehow... in all of this... the patient is lost. The patient becomes the problem that must be fixed for a profit. People are not whole beings. They become a collection of parts.... parts that can be shuffled around or removed... parts... thats all just parts. People are not treated holistically. Healing is not the goal here... profit is.

I was struck by all this when I was walking into work. The building that I work in is built on the pain and suffering of others.

Greed and Gluttony

2005-11-25T19:01:00.000-05:00

Black Friday

I work in retail, as you can imagine, I just LOVE the day after Thanksgiving. The store was mobbed. What is it with our desire to fill our lives with mass produced CRAP. It is shit. We don't need more shit. We have enough shit. But NOOOOO! We have to have designer shit. We have to have shit in all the latest colors and textures. We have to have shit with a celebrity name on it. We have to have shit that is better than our neighbor's shit.

It is madness. The only winners are the stockholders of corporations. Generally... the people buying the shit cannot afford to own stock. So they fill the void in their life with SHIT.

Santa Claus is the symbol of gluttony and greed. I want... I want... BUY... BUY... BUY!!! GIMME!!!

Whatever happened to Thanks and Giving?

Mommy Dearest

2005-11-23T07:54:00.000-05:00

Scrutiny

God I hate it! My whole life I've been watched. My mother is the worst. No mistake goes unnoticed. Every flaw is brought to my attention.

"Why did you do that?"
"That looks terrible, you look like a bull dyke" she hated my leather jacket
"Why did you waste your money on that?"
"You're just like your father." whatever
"You're such a fanatic." because I'm a vegetarian
"You're anal retentive." because I take the time to do things right
"You drink to much." I drink as much as she does
"You have too much make-up." I take care of my appearance
"Why do you hang out with those people?" to piss you off
"Didn't I teach you anything?"

Yes you did mom. You taught me that there is not way in hell that I could please you, so I gave up trying a long time ago.

You bitch about the stupidest shit. You complained that I spent my money on artichoke hearts. You bitch about every thread of clothing I put on. Yet you don't give a damn about your appearance and walk around all day in sweat pants. You don't like any of my friends so I stopped bringing them around. I don't even think of bringing a man around. He would never meet your standards. Yet your boyfriend hardly ever works, smokes four packs of cigarettes a day and is the biggest pothead around. You support his habits. I don't see where you get off complaining about the men in my life.

I never share anything with you because I know that somewhere down the road you will use it as ammunition against me. I describe you to other people as a heaping spoonful of negativity. You are eternally bitter and angry.

They say that women end up like their mothers. This is my worst nightmare.

Snow... Dammit...

2005-11-17T23:52:00.000-05:00

Yesterday the snow started. Winter is here. I'm not thrilled about it.

While I was in Florida people would say, "Don't you miss the change of seasons?" We had seasons in Florida. Wet season, Dry season, Fire season, Hurricane season and a couple of days were you could wear a sweater.

While I was in Florida people would say, "Don't you wish that you had a white Christmas?" No... why would I? Did Jesus have a fucking white Christmas? Most of the planet doesn't have snow on Christmas. During the fifteen years I lived in Buffalo I only had 2 white Christmases.

So now I'm going to freeze till May.

What am I really thinking?

2005-11-12T00:26:00.000-05:00

I am tired of being nice to people. I work in retail. When I say, "Hello, how may I help you?", often I am thinking, "You fucking loser." I'm just glad I'm not in telemarketing any more. In person people will usually be civil to you. When they are anonymous and on the phone.... damn.... you wouldn't believe what people would say to me. They were some cold blooded mother fuckers sometimes.

I need to win the lottery... then everyone can fuck off.

I see dead people...

2005-11-10T22:04:00.000-05:00

I went to a funeral today. It was catholic. I am not. I found the rituals very pagan. But the Catholics piously mumbling, were very comforted by the ceremony. By eating a white wafer they felt they were doing the "right thing"... or maybe it is the "rite thing". To me it appeared to be ritual cannibalism. But to a catholic, eating the "body of Christ" has nothing to do with eating a human body. So what do I know.

I saw the body in the casket and it was grey through the make up. The person that James once was, was long gone. I don't pretend to know where he went, but he wasn't in that box. In the funeral home everyone sat facing forward, staring at the body. It was as if they thought that he would jump up and say, "Just kidding!" Perhaps that is the reason for the wake.

Funeral rituals are for the living. It makes us feel better. In the end it doesn't change anything though. We all gotta go sometime.

I am desperate for attention...

2005-11-08T15:18:00.000-05:00

Well, to tell you the truth I have nothing fascinating or original to say. So you may ask why am I doing this... because I am vain and want attention from random people. I like to think that what I have to say is important and clever. The truth is... is that I am alone in front of a computer in a darkened room. I am typing inane words. You are reading them.

Our lives are dull.