can you say... gulag?

The first amendment apparently does not extend to those caught in the Bush administration gulag:

http://alternet.org/rights/50995/

(just in case you need something fun to read today)

NTD

This news story scares the bejeezus out of me:

http://alternet.org/drugreporter/50948/

For commentary on this incident, we now turn to novelist and Merry Prankster, the late great Ken Kesey:

I believe with the advent of acid, we discovered new ways to think and it has to do with piecing together new thoughts of mind. Why is it that people are so afraid of it? What is it about it that scares people so deeply? Because they are afraid that there is more to reality than they have ever confronted. That there are doors that they are afraid to go in and they don't want us to go in there either, because if we go in there we might learn something that they don't know. And that makes us a little out of their control. - Ken Kesey

NTD

She-Babes Cavalcade of Sports Ruled Not Obscene

I'm not sure whether the ACLU would take this case. But in the virtual world that is Ebay.com, I have a grievance which cannot be properly addressed at this time - but what are blogs for if not to bitch and rail and moan against the great injustices of the word? I'm talking war, Republicans, global warming... and vintage female wrestling videos.

When I offered She-Babes Cavalcade of Sports: Volume One for sale on Ebay, I thought that it might attract the following customers:

- wrestling aficionados
- lesbians
- collectors of the Something Weird video series

The film is comprised of fifties and sixties wrestling footage. There's a roller derby sequence thrown in to round it out. And, yes, there's two loops of gratuitous topless wrestling. But the women do not resemble Jenna Jameson, and there's no - how shall I put this - hitting below the belt. It might be sexy in Soviet-era Siberia, but I've seen hotter episodes of The Partridge Family.

However, about twelve hours after posting the listing, Ebay kicked my video right off their respectable site and offered me a school-marm message about putting THOSE sorts of videos in the adults-only category where they belong - which is where one would find midget pornography and foot worshipping leather daddies. You would have thought that I was the MILF next door offering chocolate chip cookies to unsuspecting choir boys in the neighborhood, just waiting for a chance to corrupt their godly little minds.

I guess that the fun word "She-Babes" and the unrated status of the film raised the red flag. But there's no recourse in the human-free land of Ebay Customer Service.

I'll probably just die one day clutching my unsalable copy of She-Babes Cavalcade of Sports. And the world will wonder why it meant so much to me... and no one might know by then that, for me, it was like Ginsberg's 'Howl' and Miller's 'Tropic of Cancer'... whether or not it is ART might be subjective, but, by God, this thing is not obscene. And if it's for 'mature audiences', then what is 'mature' - grown-ups who love a good wrestling match?

As far as I am concerned: we are ALL She-Babes.

Pssst... hey kid, wanna buy a video?

NTD

Wilderness: Just Call Me Marlin Perkins

We have a cat who lives about half of his waking life on our porch here in south Georgia. He's not OUR cat; he belongs to somebody around here. We call him Homer (as in the Greek author of the Iliad, not Father of Bart). My daughter named him for his relentless meowing, which she believes are elaborate epics he wants to share. His friend Joan the cat sometimes stops by... she's Joan of Arc, named for her considerable courage. I observed her once blocking a hawk from swooping down on our neighborhood chicken. She and the chicken have been pretty tight buddies ever since.

I've owned this house on a residential street less than three blocks from the courthouse since 1993. It has become my personal wildlife sanctuary. I was thinking about it this morning, about how many different critters have lived here or just visited.

Wildlife I have loved watching in my yard includes:
- a deer who quietly wandered across the grass around 3 a.m. once
- bats around the pecan trees at dusk
- an eagle that landed on a large branch for a rest
- the frog that lives in the weeds I used to call a garden
- honeybees in the azalea bushes
- barred owls
- the little green lizards underneath the porch
- bluebirds and cardinals and thrashers
- compost-loving opossums
- butterflies and moths

Wildlife I have wished would move on (or finally did):
- the rat that crawled out of the fireplace and ate my Birkenstock
- the squirrels that tap dance in the attic
- fire ants
- giant man-eating mosquitoes
- termites
- clouds of gnats
- palmetto bugs and silverfish
- bedbugs (tea tree oil and lots of hot water did the trick)
- one mentally ill poodle who wandered away from my neighbor's house

I hope to move permanently to my other home in the mountains within a year. But the thought of leaving this place makes me nostalgic - in advance - for everything that south Georgia is to me.

Except for the gnats, mosquitoes, fire ants and the roaches. There are some things that I won't miss.

NTD

Spain is happening in two weeks.

The panic is setting in. I can't say anything in Spanish which does not appear on El Sombrero's menu. My daughter says that I have to get a debit card, something I have never used in my life. I'm self-employed, buddy, and cash flow usually means CASH. But dollars aren't Euros, so I have to modernize. And she tells me to bring grits and tea bags. My southern girl, after a few months in Europe she misses her Georgia breakfast and sweet iced tea.

I tried on my bathing suits last night and almost cried. And we're staying near the beach.

Pollo y Dos Equis, y'all?
NTD

Dear Ebay,

The weekend was wonderful with you. I felt heady and happy going through my closet and drawers, looking for something to offer you. My Ebay... that's the special page you keep with my name on it, and it had been too long. It almost felt like old times, back around 2000, when I would give you precious little mementoes of my life. You would stuff them in your virtual pockets and gypsy around the globe looking for others who would see the wonder in them. Then they would have to cough up a wad of cash, buy an international money order, and send it to me from Kyoto. Or Queensland. Or Slovenia. It was all so romantic in those pre-Paypal days... I would wait at the window for the postman to arrive, then rush out to see who had sent me an envelope. I would sometimes keep the stamps from the countries I would never see. But I would be happy, knowing that there was a Deadhead in Turkey who needed every eighties issue of Relix magazine, or that a jazz musician in New Zealand would be playing a Count Basie arrangement from my copy of his half-century old songbook.

But, dearest Ebay, things are a little... different between us now. Does that pesky world banking system PayPal really have to follow us everywhere? And why do you charge me so much just to handle a few pairs of high heels (what was I thinking, ever trying to tart myself up like that?) and some vintage items which I have kept on a shelf until we - you and me, Ebay - would have time to be together again? It's like you put on a business suit and tie, and your pocket change doesn't jingle against your thigh anymore. I think that your friend PayPal is handling all your money. And I've heard rumors - tell me that it's not true - that you tell the IRS anything that they ask.

But I'm still hoping that things will work out between us, E. The final value of these seven day auctions will either reveal the old magic, or else I'll have to look elsewhere - my old friend Yard Sale has been calling my name. And Y.S. even loves the ugly, dollar store parts of my life - the plastic containers, the chipped dishes, the collection of t-shirts - things that you never cared about, Ebay. No, Yard Sale might not have the Big Bucks, but Y.S. takes all of me, as I am.

No matter where this relationship goes, Ebay, we'll remember the good times. We'll always have Australia. And the Yucatan. And Alaska... who would have thought that those 1969 Coca-Cola print pants would fly all the way to Juneau? Or my original VHS copy of Easy Rider? Good times, yesiree.

Love,
NTD

In other news...

Happy Earth Day!