The Meaning of "Woke"

 

ACTS OF RESISTANCE

 Along with the wanton, impudent betrayal of my 'great potential,' I was always regarded by the Sisters of the Immaculate Heart of Mary as a 'deportment' problem in grammar school. To shreve me of my sins, and to motivate me to work harder in school, the nuns of St. Mark's school kept me after school regularly--that is, virtually every day--during the course of my Sixth Grade year. By my birthday, near the end of April, I already held the Diocessan Detention Award, having been "detained" after school for affronts--real and imagined--to "good order" every day since the beginning of the second semester.

So it was that, on my birthday that year (1957, iirc), Sister Mary Hand-Grenade was dragging me by the ear (I kid NOT) across the school parking lot from the school to the convent where a special room was set up with portable greenboards, on which it was my perpetual penance to inscribe countless repetitions of the times tables (to 25), and endless repetitions of the 10 Commandments.

I had been making that wretched trip since September, but on this day, I rebelled: With a quick jerk of my head, I shook free from the Sister's grasping claw, and made a break for it!

It took Sister a second to recover her wits; the nuns never contemplated resistance. By the time reality had sunk in, I had a pretty goood start. I was quite quick of foot in my youth, and with the start I had, both she and I knew she was NEVER gonna catch me. (That she need only telephone my parents would have occurred to her; but my father was at work in the City, and my mother was, I was certain, away from the house playing bridge, drinking sherry, and planning good deeds with her sorority sisters in their charitable efforts. I was free, at least til dinner.)

I was almost skylarking. I heard her harpy's caw: "Boy! BOY! COME BACK HERE, BOY!!!" I looked back and saw her coming at her best pace, striding and stamping across the parking lot, her black habit flapping, the crucifix on the rosary around her waste glinting in the sun. I felt like dancing a jig in utter disrespect.

But then I heard her hollering out to the 'big' guys--the Eighth Graders--playing basketball in back of the school. Shoutring orders at them, she sicced them on me and with orers to return me to her care. The jumped to their assignment with what was, in my eyes, unseemly alacrity. Still, I also had a couple of jumps on them, and so I kicked it into lower gear and jetted homeward.

It was a race in which I was pretty confident I had the advantage, since 1) I was quick and fast and knew where I was going, and 2) they pretty much had to follow me and overtake me if they could. I was about 30-50 yards ahead of 'em when I got to my block. They were just coming up the street, determined to return me to school, when I hit the front porch and bolted into the house.

Being a 'latch-key kid', I knew all the secrets of the place, and especially I knew where my dad kept a loaded .45cal revolver. By then I knew I was in trouble, but I was utterly and irremediably determined that I was not going to go back to that school that day. I dashed through the house, up to my parents' bedroom, and yanked open the bureau drawer where, among his socks, I knew my Dad kept the gun. Seizing it, I ran down stairs and got to the door, pistol in hand--but hand out of sight--as the Eighth Graders came storming up the steps and onto the porch. They clamored and demanded I come out. "Sister wants you back at school!" the biggest of them declared, menacingly. "If you don't come out, we'll come in after you!" When I refused, they started to reach for the door...

Which was when I raised the pistol and cocked the trigger.

Everything stopped, arrested in time.

It was a big gun.
It was in plain sight.
I had it in my hand and I was pointing it skyward...
And there was a movement and ...
And the gun kinda ...

WENT OFF...

The roar of that old hogleg in the tiny vestibule of the house was tremendous, a stupendous, enormous, incredible, thunderous, deafening BOOM. Acrid smoke filled the space. The bullet splintered the door jamb overhead...and when I looked again at the door, the Eighth Grade had vanished, scattered like a covey of quail. I took the gun back where I had found it, and awaited the return of my parents.

That evening, when the Mother Superior of the convent called to apprise my parents of the dreadful details surrounding the incident, everyone was (I gather) outraged, both at my departure from detention, but moreso at the means of my defense of that decision. There was talk, (I gather) of police, and of sending me to the juvenile delinquency home.

I received a severe 'whuppin' for that stunt. And I went back to school a few days later.

But I never spent another day's detention in that school that year, or ever. And the Eighth Grade avoided me as though I were contagious. 

We moved into a new parish the next year.

Were you at Woodstock? I wasn't....

 

I was trying to be a sensible person that summer. 

I was 23, outta service, outta school (temporarily, as it turned out) to accommodate the (tacit) wishes of my family, selling cars at a Fiat dealership (also Olds and Cadillac). I drove (tuned) "demos" in parkinglot gymkhannas, and won a few. Had a cool place on a hill above a liquor store, sources for weed, and a sufficiency of willing women. 

I was also JayCee of the Quarter for running the annual Fiesta Plaza green chile hamburger stand and turning a tidy profit. Possibly my highest and greatest "Civic" accomplishment! 

I was drinking way too much (in the intervening 50+ years I've become a "sipper," rather than abstaining totally). I was self-destructive and unhappy, though I probably didn't notice.

I got bettah...

Recent Observations: You Pith Me Off (June, 2022)

Gather your loved ones, pop the

Last Orville's in the pantry,

And watch y/our life-world's demise.

The Enlightenment misled us, as a species, into believing we were/are "perfectible."

That's where Dr. Faustus comes in.

A Realist needs to steel oneself to being called a "cynic."
REALISM isn't "CYNICISM," but they're often confused by the hopeful.

"God" is philosophical pareidolia!

CONFESSIONS OF Dr. WOODY:
"I have never in my life felt the least bit guilty or even bothered by being idle."

A "capitalist" economy depends on growth.
"Growth" is the bane of life as we know it.
Our life-world is dying of "growth."

To be clear: I don't really give a fuck what happens to you, when it all comes down. I'll be dead. 

I just can't believe YOU don't care.

In a "two-party" system, it's difficult--maybe impossible--NOT to devolve into a "zero-sum" politics.

If you acknowledge there is
A "lesser of two evils,"
There must also be a worse.

Don't forget, Biden's basically a centrist DRIVEN to the Left by the militant Right. He's really QUITE uncomfortable.

Religion is only one of the most transparent pools of propaganda in which we swim, like trout in their streams.

ONE, unforgiveable thing that Critical Race Theory reveals is the hollowness of claims of "White" exceptionalism.

I, personally, don't mind the idea of the SCROTES having to "look over their shoulders" after an egregiously unjust decision.

Grafitti is the art of

"Signing" the world; you could say

It's coded "self-inscryption."

All that "The Rule of Law" REALLY means is that the Rulers make the laws.

The BEST trick "bad" people pull

Is convincing victims their

"Evil"'s just incompetence. Politics: how Haves decide
How much of society's
Goods to share with the "Have-nots."

Aloha, pal!

 

On this Fathers Day, we ask the Village to wrap their arms around one of our own #VillageDads as we say ALOHA to our beloved #HomeSanctuary #ElderBull, #NMDOG PILGRIM 

Sadly, last week I got a call with concerns that PIGGY appeared bloated & did not eat his breakfast - both very out of the ordinary for our boy. I responded immediately, took one look & I knew he was in serious trouble  His abdomen was severely distended, he was unenthusiastic about my arrival & his gums were very pale. I loaded him up & we went straight to see our #VetMed partners with Thrive Pet Healthcare Specialists. Poor PIGGY..... they took him back for triage & rads, then returned with devastating news. PILGRIM was full of cancer & it was clear what needed to be done....my heart sank as I called his Dad.

I was shocked to see the number & sheer size of the tumors in his chest, around the heart, his abdomen & liver....PIGGY never showed us any signs that he was even sick! PILGRIM just had a spa day the week before & hes never missed one single meal while in our care...he didnt get the nickname "PIGGY" for nothin 

We had 2 options - both with the blessing of PILGRIMS ER Doc - I could leave PIGGUMS there, go pick up Dad go back to the clinic & say our goodbyes or, we could administer some supportive care - as I was assured he was experiencing minimal (if any) pain - take him back home, monitor closely to allow them a little more time & have our home euthanasia Vet meet with us later in the day. We choose the latter 

With lots of treats, so many kisses, snuggles & wags...we all said goodbye & we told PILGRIM what a #BestBoy he was, what a difference he made in many lives & what an honor its been, being his rescue.

It is both a blessing & a curse that his cancer came on so quickly & so seemingly out of nowhere. We are grateful that PILGRIM knew only health, happiness & LoVe since coming into our care...as this is our ultimate promise to each of them. PIGGY-WIG was #UNchained in a #ValenciaCounty cruelty case, Thanksgiving 2019. He was our first Valencia County Animal Control case ordered to pay restitution & an order that his abuser not have custody or control of any dog while residing in the County. We are so proud of the progress we have seen on the #FrontLines in Valencia County over the past few years....& PILGRIM was one of our fave enforcement success stories! Everyone did such a great job on his behalf: Vet Team; Field Officers; Shelter Staff; Volunteers & The Honorable Judge #PILGRIMthePioneer we are so PROUD of you little buddy 

Chained for 10 long years, suffering allllllll of the "things" = patterns of fresh wounds & old scars from dog fights & dog attacks, injuries with no medical treatment including losing the use of his eye, internal & external parasites, tick-borne disease, malnutrition, severe periodontal disease, osteoarthritis, sunburn, scars from frostbite, flystrike & more....PILGRIM retained his #BigGiantPitty heart & LoVe of people, despite the hell he endured. I believe the day that stupid chain was removed from his neck was truly the first day of the rest of his life! #BestDayEver & PIGGY did not waste any time.

Once PILGRIM healed from his many medical issues & really began to feel better...we learned what he needed & wanted for his #JustRight FoReVeR home & we made that happen for his special needs, by way of the NMDOG Home Sanctuary Program. As an NMDOG HS Kid, we pledge to cover all expenses involved in the LIFEtime care & considerations for each specific Dog. Whatever it takes to provide the best quality of life in order for them to live well in a true home environment...we go to the ends of the earth to make that happen for them. PILGRIM had a wonderful time with his wonderful Dad for the (almost) 3 wonderful years he was with us...& we dont do this work alone 

True Sanctuary (with ALL needs being met) requires a lot of commitment & support...& #NMDOGvillage, you enable us to right these kind of wrongs....every. single. day. Your ongoing support of our lifesaving work enables us to turn tragedy into a #HappyTail giving once Forgotten Dogs like PILGRIM a brand new life! His bright shining spirit & his story of triumph sparked inspiration to many along the way. PILGRIM also touched the heart of our Friends with The Grey Muzzle Organization as well as their fans & followers across the globe. The photo taken during PILGRIMS #adoption ceremony (below) got lots of attention & will soon be seen in a national campaign promoting #SeniorDog #SeniorPeople matches & healing their broken hearts.

Our precious PIGGUMS packed a LOT of living into what feels like 3 short short years & I know his Dad packed in a lot of LoVe in that short time as well. We are so grateful to PIGGYS Dad Woody....for giving our #BullyDozer boy such a sweet spot to spend his best best years!!
PILGRIM will always be remembered as our big ol goofy #CouchSeal who never lost his will to LoVe & live 
Fly free Mr PIGGUMS....now you have your wings 

#UntilWeMeetAgain

The "Free" Press Isn't (and it's NOT your Ally)

 The "Press" not your ally!

The news isn't presented objectively, or even disinterestedly. It's slanted--sometimes subtly, sometimes brazenly--to protect corpoRat interests and the status quo. In the "corporate State," "corporate" media ARE "State" media.

The institutional discourse of the "press" is resistant and hostile to change. The propaganda function is more apparent as adjustments are made to the rhetoric. Meanwhile, the "gate-keeper" function assures that the stories that get covered are the ones best suited to the internal discourses of the industry. 

The decline and demise of the free and independent press can be traced to Watergate and the fall of Nixon.

Since the monopolization process (aka, "media consolidation") began in the late 70s, in response to the WaPo's bringing down Nixon, the "press" has ceased to be an advocate for the people (whence, deserving of its protection), and has  been transformed into an active agent for the CorpoRat Status Quo, led ESPECIALLY, by the NYTimes.

After Watergate and the WaPo brought down Nixon, the PTB decided that nothing like that was never gonna be permitted to happen again, and so they killed off the "independent" press with monopolization, beginning already in the middle 70s...

Shuffle Up and Deal -- New Blackjack

 Grafitti is the art of

"Signing" the world; you could say

It's coded "self-inscryption."

Civility's the shit-soaked
ball-gag the Bosses force on
"The People" to quell their rage.

A 'gentleman' should be known

for his generosity

with his own intoxicants.

The BEST trick "bad" people pull
Is convincing victims their
"Evil"'s mere incompetence.

Wanna know what torques my ass?

People who equivocate

about dangers of fascism.

Elections: democracy's
Achilles heel; once trust's lost
The wound is always mortal.

As for this life around me,
I am enraged, but I laugh
because it's too late to cry.

Locomotively speaking,

My most perilous moments
Occur when I change my mind.

I'm getting worse and worse and...
I snarl'd at someone today.
I snarl a lot more lately.

"Compromise" for "Unity?"

What, or more like whom, will you

Offer up to close the deal?

You want to tear it all down?
Just you go right on ahead,
Only please, wait til I'm dead.