It’s Nature’s Way (of telling you, somethings wrong)

Look I have nothing wrong with fixing the Earth as far as we are able,  but let’s make sure that other huge polluters,  do their part.     And that’s not to say that we wait to do ours,  but let us cll out those who could care less.

They are where we were and where we never want to go again.   And we do have a lot of work to do in our own back yard.   Disregard for our planet is a callous end game with no winners.   I remember an episode of ‘Twilight Zone’.   The people saw temperatures rising exponentially and when the man character awakens from his dream (delirium caused by a high fever)  the opposite is happening,  the world slipping into an Ice Age.

The episode was ‘The Midnight Sun’ and we have people being alarmed at either prospect and like an attack from Aliens we cannot find the aliens we were scared of.   Like Orson Welles and attack of the Martians and the suggestion by some that they are here and we cannot see them.   It is all about action/reaction or the chicken and the egg or in this sense.  a Microwave or a frozen Pot Pie.

There always seems to be some nefarious Monster of our own imagination seeking to neutralize what we may have.    Enter ‘the politican’!   With their gavel and 90 minute lunches,  they tell people what color their house can be or the the easement on a person’s property.

But still this is all just a backdrop to the finality of being stuck in Amber.    With many there is little chance of seeing the Grand Canyon.   Gourmet fare is a trip to the Double Arches where Happy Meals and disposable income, fight that never ending battle and where obesity inevitably rounds out a person’s waistline.

But we have a global crisis potentially waiting in the wings.    This plague is a two-sided sword where isolation and death is like a weather warning for tornadoes.    The solemn processions spares no one and promises of behaving to God resoundingly beg for redemption.    For the survivors,  a pin prick of consciousness becomes a lulling nightmare and the cracks and refuse along the street remain the same.

Even the rats poke their heads out and see if the coast is clear wishing the cats and other exterminators are elsewhere busy.

By Saliou Samb and Alphonso Toweh

CONAKRY/MONROVIA (Reuters) – Bushmeat – from bats to antelopes, squirrels, porcupines and monkeys – has long held pride of place on family menus in West and Central Africa, whether stewed, smoked or roasted.

A visit to a traditional market in the region assails the senses with a huge variety of forest game – mammal, bird and reptile carcasses smoked and partitioned and the smell of singed animal hair filling the air.

But an outbreak of the deadly Ebola fever in Guinea has rekindled concerns about the health risks of age-old African hunting and eating traditions that bring humans into close contact with wild forest animals.

The World Health Organisation says about 86 suspected cases of Ebola have been reported, with 62 deaths so far. Guinean authorities put the death toll at 63. [ID:nL5N0MN50D]

Experts who have studied the Ebola virus from its discovery in 1976 in Democratic Republic of Congo, then Zaire, say its suspected origin – what they call the reservoir host – is forest bats. Links have also been made to the carcasses of fr

freshly slaughtered animals consumed as bushmeat.

Bats – often served in a spicy stew called “kedjenou” – have long been a favourite in Guinea’s southeastern Forest Zone, the epicentre of the current outbreak. But sales of these and other bushmeat delicacies have now been banned by Guinean authorities fighting the Ebola outbreak.

“We visited the markets in the region and there was no more bat meat on sale,” Colonel Remy Lamah, Minister of Health, said from the area hit by the outbreak, which borders Ivory Coast, Liberia and Sierra Leone.

Liberia and Sierra Leone, which have reported suspected Ebola deaths, announced similar bans on the sale of bushmeat, spreading alarm and dismay among consumers and the many who make a living from the trade.

A woman stands by a table table selling smoked bush meat at a specialist market in the Yopougon area..

“PEOPLE WON’T BUY OUR MEAT”

“Our people here eat monkey and bat … we have warned them about eating bushmeat,” said Tolbert G. Nyenswah, a health official in Liberia. “We have warned them about coming into contact with fresh meat. We have also warned them about eating dead animals when they don’t know what killed them.”

In Ivory Coast’s commercial hub Abidjan, signs at the Yopougon bushmeat market still offer rats, porcupine, agouti, squirrels, pangolin and bats “stewed or braised”.

“We’ve heard the announcement and we’re worried because people won’t buy our meat now,” said vendor Sophie Ouattara.

But specialists believe bushmeat bans will be ineffective, not just because of the scale of the traditional trade providing a valuable protein source to millions, but also because the link with Ebola is seen limited to very specific circumstances.

“You will not stop it … I just think it’s futile,” said Bob Swanepoel, a virologist at the University of Pretoria’s Zoonoses Research Unit, who has studied most of Africa’s major outbreaks of Ebola and other similar haemorrhagic fevers like Marburg, Lassa and Crimean-Congo fever.

Swanepoel stressed that according to scientific evidence, the main risk of human infection by Ebola or Marburg is not thought to be from all bushmeat, only from infected animals and only from fresh carcasses.

“If you handle wet meat, there’s a much bigger chance,” he said, saying a 1996 outbreak in Gabon was believed to have been caused by local people eating the still fresh body of a dead chimpanzee they had come across in the forest.

Large primates, like chimpanzees and gorillas, also die from Ebola, Swanepoel said. They are also often killed by bushmeat hunters despite campaigns by international conservation groups battling to ensure their survival.

Swanepoel said cooking and smoking the meat was likely to reduced the chances of infection, but there was still a risk.

Besides local consumption, tonnes of African bushmeat finds its way each year to ethnic restaurants in Paris, Brussels and New York, where members of the African diaspora prize the dishes as a nostalgic treat from home.

In 2009, a Liberian woman caught smuggling baboon, green monkey and warthog meat into New York’s John F. Kennedy airport was sentenced to three years of probation. Prosecutors cited the risk of disease and the need for wildlife conservation.

BEWARE THE BATS

Despite the fears over bushmeat, Swanepoel says study of Ebola and Marburg outbreaks since 1976 indicate it is close contact with bats in particular that seems to be behind the transmission to humans of the deadly virus that causes vomiting, diarrhoea and both internal and external bleeding.

“Ebola is likely harboured by bats living in the forest,” Swanepoel said, citing suspected Ebola and Marburg infections in Congo, Uganda and Sudan traced to the presence of bats in caves, mines and factories frequented by humans.

This could also explain the dispersion of the outbreaks – Guinea, in the heart of West Africa, is thousands of kilometres away from the site of past outbreaks in Central and East Africa. Swathes of forest cover large parts of West Africa.

“These bats migrate vast distances,” Swanepoel said, adding they could also infect other animals eaten by humans, such as antelopes. Bats are also hunted and consumed by some large animals such as baboons.

Swanepoel said three or four bat species were “under suspicion” for transmitting Ebola and scientists were still trying to pin down the specific reservoir host.

On his desk in Pretoria he keeps a model made of black beads of the Hammerhead Bat, Latin name Hypsignathus Monstrosus, to remind him of a likely carrier of one of the world’s most lethal and feared diseases. “It’s monstrously ugly,” he said.

(Additional reporting by Alain Amontchi in Abidjan and Pascal Fletcher in Johannesburg; Writing by Pascal Fletcher; Editing by Janet Lawrence)

Courtesy of Reuters…………

 

Oh and this is NOT the effects of Global Warming but what in the Philippines are dealing with and this kind of futility seems never-ending!   Trouble will find us in this world and I do not have to tell you that.

Typhoon Matmo nears northern Philippines

Authorities say the Philippines is again bracing for wild weather, only days after the country was hit by Typhoon Rammasun.

Are the Philippines a haven for terrorism?

The U.S. State Department has considered the southern Philippines a “terrorist safe haven” since the classification was created in 2006. According to the State Department’s 2008report, the Philippine government has little control in the Sulu archipelago and the island of Mindanao. The government has also had trouble combating resentment among the local Muslim minority regarding policies of the central government. As a result, the Philippines is home to a number of militant groups, including the Abu Sayyaf Group, the Communist Party of the Philippines/New Peoples Army, Jemaah Islamiyah, the Alex Boncayao Brigade, the Pentagon Gang, the Moro National Liberation Front (MNLF), and the Moro Islamic Liberation Front (MILF). These groups have conducted over one-hundred attacks within the Philippines since 2004, the largest of which was a ferry bombing that killed 130 people. The Philippine government has taken significant steps to combat terrorism, but terrorists continue to use the country as a base to organize, raise funds, train, and operate.

But lastly we need to see why the Philippines has something to offer with spectacular venues and breathtaking vistas.    Filipino will go on as that really is the way to handle adversity.   Make a friend today with someone else in the world.

Mediating Reality and Politics.

One of the more frustrating aspects of dealing with people is that they read a book on let’s say, ‘Physics’.   They read just enough to have an opinion and then can’t be bothered.   In essence, that becomes their politics.   They fancy their notions but do not engage with them.

The first principle is that you must not fool yourself and you are the easiest person to fool.

Science itself is still in it’s veritable infancy.  The things we will know later will dwarf us in the here and now.   And the climate change debate will crystalize.    Not an answer driven by political correctness but we will have done ‘real due-diligence’.   Not throwing talking points as real science.

People want everything gift-wrapped into tight little packages that are easy to explain but when you get beneath the dogma, there is nothing but that dogma.   Logically then or rather illogically they go back to their default position as with the topic of ‘Climate Change’.    They refer back to the experts,  whatever that might be.   Many of these same people then refer to the religious as deferring to fairy tales.

Stephen Hawking has the Higgs-Boson to fall back on and considering the fact that he has beaten the odds,  doesn’t see the irony.  As if the fact that my friend died after a year after he was diagnosed.   He too,  had ALS.    The difference being that he was a professing Christian while the former must imagine some last minute intervention or like many unbelievers that his mass will not destroyed.  I  guess.

If I left the world being the most dissipated man of all time,  and did not feel the slightest compunction at being a  jerk,  then maybe I too could go on without asking the biggest question…..why?  Why in my honest evaluation of myself,  I could not even hint at being some kind of saint or above it all.

So maybe we fancy ourselves to be many things.   Perhaps an Opera Star, a Poet or maybe we were born to be a leaf.  One that has fallen during Autumn who is slated for a burn barrel of the compost pile.   We are even less than the worst of miscreants,  who we should assume ourselves to be.   This is not self-flagellation but simple perspective.   The nascent rise of real science can upset a lot of realities.   But is that Immutable Perfect Being really interested in “our take”?    And would it necessarily disprove anything of the nature of God?

This diagram shows changes in the rate of expansion since the Big Bang. The shallower the curve, the faster the expansion rate. There's a notable change in the curve around 7.5 billion years ago, when astronomers think a mysterious, dark force caused objects to fly apart at a faster rate. NASA/STSci/Ann Feild

At that point,  were we even cognizant of our plight relative to people,  what then?

 

Life is more than elaborate set of rules but the worst part of that is maybe no one really cares who good you think you are,  much less than a sentient being of unimaginable power.  The fact that such a being would ever even care is worthy of our consideration.

Ultimately God makes his choice and is the only choice ever truly made by anyone or anything.  God is not like us,  he would be in all ways better and once we get that if we were a plot of clay,  he could dash that hardened clay against the wall and it would be fair.


That we are sentient, ought to reveal something very important about us and even more about God.   In the final analysis God is so fair,  that he would consider all of our arguments and is the perfect parent because unlike us,  he is truly impartial.  Those conferred with greater gifts now,  are not among the elite in heaven, but those with a humble heart,  who imagines humbly to be so unworthy of him.

Conversely we are antithesis of modesty and our self-aggrandizement is really evident we get so mired into those shows like ‘American Idol’ and that is just one program that intimates that someone is going to find us and see how wonderful we are.    Afterall everyone has some measure of greatness.   Really?  How about those who just CANNOT sing or act or paint a picture?

There has to be a special for them!   And why again?  This kind of mentality is part of the infantilism of the world today.  A 20 year old woman (many called her a girl) remonstrated that her life was miserable because her parents embarrassed her when she was 10.   The crime?   Her parents made her a Halloween costume and that poor girl was traumatized.  Yeah I bet a lot of people would love to trade places.

That person who you and I shrugged off.   That person we may have done charity for with an air of insolent disregard,  perhaps imagining that we are better and he or she is there by choice.   But as I see it, we can be that little boy or girl,  combing through sewage and refuse hoping to eat that.   Maslow’s Hierarchy of Needs at play here my friends.

 

Not dogmas,  not same-sex marriage or even that man/woman arrangement.   Today we confer some kind of special birthright based on sexual proclivity,  racial orientation or our beliefs in some obscure frog or farflung religion.

 

It is one thing to rebel against injustice because there is some intrinsic value in that.   However,  a lot of this is just rhetoric.

Pay a dime to a cause and sleep well at night.   Is that going to be our legacy?  Do we ‘really’  lose sleep over all this terrible stuff in the world?

 

We more than most rich people get it.   We are more likely to suffer more substantially than billionaires and because of that we can more relate to the hurting.  But our answer basically mirrors the tax write-offs of the uber rich.   So maybe we are not so swell afterall.

The good message and point here is that someone does care but to know him we have to set aside all presumption.   We have to look at ourselves being the one hurting and really understand our own inherent leanings towards wrong.   I am NOT exempting myself from this either.   We all must do apart from hyperbole and most of all,  do it not for accolades or some measure of self-satisfaction.   Let the words silently minister to the hurting.

 

 

There is one thing that I want to do today and that is to ask those who hear to respond.   You will know question to that answer and you will find harmony and perfection.

 

 

 

 

 

The Bear and the Pond.

Cicero
On a quiet pond somewhere in the rolling hills of Oregon was a pond were three of a certain Bear Clan, father, mother and a small Bear in Diapers. Underneath the shade tree of her choice she attended to the little bear with affectionate concern. While the father Bear in his Man-Cave on top of a nearby mountain. Keeping watch.

The order here is depicted, of a certain setting, Father doing fatherly things, while Mom and the little Cub were fast about doing what they do. Preening and
playing in their quaint little place. There is Love here.

In God we Trust

Later on as the dew began to disappear and the Bees begun to gather, the infant Bear began to wander and is the case with Bears, they are inquisitive. The same with the smaller Bear, who happened to know a Frog on a lily pad. Dressed in green, naturally, on the Frog’s croak, gave it away.

Once the baby beast had spotted it’s quarry, it swam with purpose coming very close to the scene where the Frog looked quizzically as this furry marauder, anticipating something a bit unpleasant. Indeed the tiny hunter lifted it’s paw and both Frog and Pad became immersed and was gone.

But the little Bear had another idea. Why not climb upon a lily pad herself and make like a frog. But this plan with a bit flawed, might one say. With a whoosh and a ripple the Bear fell below the surface. However she was persistent and tried many times.

The problem is that the little Bear soon tired and then with no strength left, she like the Frog and the Pad slipped before the surface. The mother had been watching concernedly and roared and made it’s way to where the baby was.

The father bear dropped his remote and came rushing down the mountainside and into the water and saved the water-soaked Cub to their little spot beneath the large Willow Tree. There as a family they reposed. A lesson to all of them and the end of this story.

Floods

However in this story, the Bear never sleeps nor watches games of hieroglyphics on the wall. In common terms, “He’s got this”. The mother and baby are safe now as the distraught mother beseeched the Man on the Hill.

He is Risen

The Knocking and our missteps.

Falling Short

When want people to see us, we want them to see us, at our best.    But who is really ‘good’? And problems?  Everyone has those too.  Our goodness is relative anyway and goodness does not assure us of a totally happy existence.  And besides,  what do we really  know about each other?

Have you heard about the person who ALWAYS speaks his or her mind?   Usually they have very few friends and acquaintances who trust them.    And why do we tell people secrets,  as if we already knew they wouldn’t keep them?   Do we really enjoy the excitement of drama that is against us?

And how many times have we presumed to know what would be just a hypothetical?  That we would do such and such and say it always ‘them’?   The truth is,  we are all deceptive to one degree or another and this includes an inherent total depravity.   None of us wants to hear of our own weaknesses and dare I say it,  potential for evil?

Let’s face it,  we do at one point or another covet,  whether it is a person, a place or a thing.  That idyllic little something that would bring clarity and fulfillment and we would also do anything to get it?   I am no better and probably worse.   Though it is probably something that no one knows about.   Maybe some kinky sexual fantasy or an sudden impulse to break something.

It is also hard to accept that God may not want us.   He may simply pass us by and our relative goodness and our accumulated wealth would be for naught.  I believe at the very least we can have some perspective about us and others,  not assuming that our ‘goodness’ was not something intrinsic in us and that make our forever more agreeable.

The only intrinsic beauty is God.  A God who knows himself,  yet at the same time loves us.  He loves who he loves and who he doesn’t for whatever reasons is the way it is.  I am not being cavalier or judging your relative goodness or badness,  except to say,  we should practice good with God’s grace.

My cousin died at 22.  He was a very good man and it seems a shame.  But my opinion could never save him, due to an intrinsic flaw in all of us.   Look at story of the kids on an island.   At first life was harmonious but then human nature began to shape as it really is.   All I can say is be good and be humble and contrite.    And I am not saying be sad and that you cannot be happy most of the time,  but take it from me,  I am okay yet just as corrupt as anyone else, give or take.

Mark Twain

Gate Keepers

Gate Keepers

As we know more about a lot, we master nothing.    We toil and strive and then concede,  ultimately wallowing in the muck and mire of our own personal experiences.   We assume we are patently original,  suspiciously aware of our hypocrisy.    We claim we never lie and if we do then we do.

Sometimes in our youth,  we wish to cheat death or get as close as we can to that.  Impressing others of our bravado and recounting our glory years.    Like the song, ‘Those Were the Days My friend,   we thought they’d never end,   we sing and dance forever and a day.   We live the life we choose,  we fight and never lose,  those were the days,  oh yes, those were the days.’

There was a time in our life, when we romanticized love,  as if we were Romeo and Juliet,  or we might be Bonnie and Clyde.   We would make love as no one else could.   Like a Muse in a Xanadu,  we find our own reality,  as we move gracefully together.

But then something happened.  The Yellow brick road began to crumble and the house landed upon our love.   With a resounding thump and a crash of dishes,  our dreams faded like a late show re-run.

Those songs that inspired us,  were now a requiem,  sad and haunting.   Soon bitterness impaled our hearts and they become like stone.    And instead of skipping flat stones across a florid lake.

Florid Lake

So maybe we find a church ,   with a choir and we sing staid old songs,  as lifeless as a still-born dream.  We are reverent and judging,  but we judge others for their specks,  while redwoods roam in our eyes.

We can’t wait to leave and try to depart as soon as we can and we claim a god of opportunity to an end with no life,  like that old abandoned church.

We hear a knock from above,  wistful vapors of the unseen but our spirit consists of seeing images in an office building and tying meaning to a ship that never comes back.

It need not end this way.   In spite of unrequited love snatching us too early.  the knocks push upon us harder and the message is clear and unwavering.  Though all around are the indignant,  honest, godly church going people who flick ashes upon others.

We cannot find what we assumed was there until our hearts melt for the needs of forgiveness of our own missteps.   The harrowing nightmares we perpetrated on others,   while claiming some kind of victim-hood.

When we realize that we are there,  we will know we have arrived.   Our pretentions are like tumbleweeds drifting on a dusty road.   Yet in that abyss of faith,   we find ourselves trembling but more free.

Remember good is never good enough and if it will be,  it definitely be.  with no further side-slips on that precarious path.

 

The Paralytic View – Ismology 101, -Isms and their political intent.

I was reading where George Will was recently fired because of what he said, by basically saying that certain individuals enjoy a kind of sanctuary. Victims to him include those who hide behind that issue, whether it is an ailment, skin color and social orientation.

Those points are debatable but our society has deemed this off-limits. The sad part of that is the fact that free speech is being cut off and it is being done maliciously.

Like George Orwell’s’1984′, “more is less” and the combatants are growing exponentially and they change. The Washington Redskins are a perfect example. The leader behind all of this is decrying the name as racist and it might just be. As I have mentioned before, rape of the reservation is staggering and of course, many blame you and I.

Why isn’t that a bigger issue than a sports teams name? Politics! A putrefied dish of in your face. Like the little kid who provokes others and his big brother bails him out, all the while enjoy the fruits of his labor and finding a codicil in darkness.

It is time we take action. Stop marching and picketing as if this is civil rights. I bet most people do not even consider American Natives(Indians) in their daily prayers and ablutions, rather more a convenient excuse to harass and maim other people’s perspectives. Grow up America! Stop being the world’s arbiter of what is acceptable and what is not.

Stop hiding behind your big brother and fight this battle on an even basis and stop assuming that you are always right. I am wrong often but I do not use my party as justification for my deeds.

There are a myriad of social issues and I think we need to be kinder to one another. Stop trying to be that big brother who seems to be lurking, waiting, like a totem bowl with a ball point pen and easel. That easel is a book of life by people with no clue.

Another Silly Love Song of a Kind

Trees

We are like those leaves, once green seeking out the sun and a rich bounty of rain. The cycle goes carelessly on, as the waning sun departs dejected…. disconsolate. What troubles it’s soul? Little by little the changes appear but the problem is not the end, but the here and now.

Do you know what I mean? Kurt Vonnegut quickly deduced our primal stripes and the Freudian yearnings of yesteryear, where our own dominion seemed assured. Protecting a meager pot of Gold, we are like treasure seekers in a Pawn Shop. Desperate to feel alive we draw paintings on our skin in the vain hope of an extension of some kind. The wind does not abate, the scars are etched like the heart of hope of young lovers on a tree, their destiny uncertain.

I love

We try delaying the onset of Autumn not knowing what leaves might fall. Instead we clutch hope as elusive as water in our hands. The imprint we make depends upon us. Now think about it, just before the wind stops and the leaves turn different shades like rainbows in the forest. Meaning that maturity is not a curse.

Meaning that we, as older adults are not unappealing. We live as we are and if anything we are frank and so is our beauty, like the embrace of a mature mate, our hands fitting like Cinderella’s Slippers.

But many of us close the book assuming the end is rather near and why bother anyhow. The larger question is do we sit at home as the walls consume us or do we relinquish of our false notions and bare our souls to a compatible one. Like Eagles nested upon a towering rock we prevail in peace.

Honey frost

I cannot bring flowers to a deserted road and expect them to flourish. I can’t open your door and treat you like the angel that you want to be. Secure not in the number of rooms and a legacy of cash, but the heart-warming togetherness of a single one undivided. Or a Thanksgiving Dinner, when afterward we muse about the dinner but pine for each other.

So, is this you? Are you over 50 and not trying to over deliver? Do you want what you think is missing? I am here, in my late 50s, a songbird flapping my wings to garner your attention. Steadfastly I crave to know you. Plump is cool and wrinkles not a curse because the Princess and the Pea are just fairly tales like skinny waifs and bulimia. Beauty lies deep within our soul and the travesty is not to share it. With you my destiny.

I am not an angel but I will do. The measure of this man is counted as much but the nails I have driven and the tears shed silently behind a wall of frosted glass.

Romance is not dead and passion burns until we let the pilot light go on it’s way. We still have moments to share and places to be, together. So, if you are middle-aged and want a person who is relatively nice and as a generous as I can be, then I am that guy.

 

Roger Crockett NW Legend

ImageImagehttp://www.ascsracing.com/profile/news/?i=18071&r=14423&rt=driver

I talked to 32 year old Roger Crockett who hails from the Upper Northwest Wednesday evening and have decided to pitch his racing program while at the same time bringing more light to a very important cause.   Being a veteran of the Air Force and losing a close friend to ALS,  I think we can spread this message because ALD (Lou Gehrig’s Disease) is dehumanizing and it kills a person.

For me,  finding out Floyd was kind of bitter sweet.   You see he was found out to have this dreadful disease for a few months.    Sadly,   I remember when he fell outside going to a Doctor’s appointment.     It was too long after that that his arms were gone too and before you knew it he could no longer hardly talk and died peacefully a few weeks later.

Was this a coincidence finding him in that way?   If it was one then it was a good thing.   Although the bitter pill of death had swallowed him up and he now sings the angels,  together in peace with heavenly bodies.

His family and especially Bim his wife and daughter Wendy.   Wendy told him how he always made time for her and misses him so much.   Bim also invited me to stay if I became incapacitated.     But my problems are not so important to this dialogue.

For more information about this disease and Floyd please go to my ‘about me’.  Even the site itself is named after a song,  from an artist he liked.

 

Thanks

 

 

 

 

It’s Not Just a Black Thing – Bingo Long’s Travelling All-Stars

The above movie was made in 1976 and it was a semi-historical look at the Negro Major Leagues of the 1930’s.    It starred Billy Dee Williams as a charismatic star pitcher in a league of undiscovered talent.   Also manning his team was James Earl Jones,  being one of the Negro Leagues most prolific homerun hitters.  And lastly and who can forget Richard Pryor trying to pass himself off as Cuban.   Talk about fuzzy math…

Below is that movie and I think,  it should be understood the context of the times the true greatness and soul of a people starving for their own heroes,  on their own terms.   Rather than do something construction it becomes all about you.  It is political correctness run amok.  It

http://youtu.be/bCJ_INhdW9M

The movie is comic ‘gold’ and with it gives us an impression of a world largely unknown to whites.    And for the people who talk about Blaxploitation go take another bong hit.   It is criticism with no object except self-aggrandizement.   It is not about you.   It is about Jackie Robinson, Willie Mays,   Hank Aaron and Bob Gibson and many more.   People who suffered Jim Crowe and have to listen to white people playing politics with all our lives.

We are all human and all have the potential for good.   We can try and make a difference  finding a way to unite us and break down stereotypes from all sides.   It is looking for good and turning over rocks to find things that make us shout in one voice about harmony than discord.

A good series about how things are changing from the heartbreak of the 60s both from the black and white perspectives is ‘The 60s’.    Julia Stiles goes through a lot as does her brother who comes back broken because of the Vietnam War.

I have ties to the Tuskegee Airman and I have a project in mind that could ultimately make a difference for all.   We can make a difference and I promise to make an impact where mainly people just rant,  trying to score points and kiss up.

I want MLK Day to be more than a holiday.   What does it do for anyone in the way it is celebrated?  This is all about inclusiveness and what Martin Luther King had in mind.

 

 

Black History Month and Bob Gibson.

I think much of America lives in a dream world.   It is kind of like fast food and they get their news in a drive-through window.    It is also Black History Month and that is a noble cause for sure.

But nothing is really changing.   People live in their glass houses and throw stones but never entertaining the notion of actually changing.  Then to justify their odd behavior,   they watch the news and that news and agree with their favorite pop view of what is going on.

Bob Gibson

Bob Gibson 2

Bob Gibson 3

In this case,  we have the same ole recipe.   We name streets MLK or a Newscasters who feign concern over the plights of the poor.   But like Scrooge they hoard emotions and follow carefully nuance scripts full of hyperbole and the kinds of generalizations that make no sense.

Don’t get me wrong,  we should change but those changes are to investigate stories of minorities and whites.   Expand our lexicon to include people who have done well for their own community.

I am white and male and I am not intimidated by stupid people who do only what is expected and no more.  We become a reflection of what we despise.   I live close to Greensboro, NC.    The place where four black men decided to do their own part in integration and they are heroes and rightly recognized in that very building where Jim Crowe’s spirit thrived.

That building is now the Cultural Center and I had the opportunity to visit that place and came away with a further appreciation for history that is often overlooked.  So it is my intention to bring my own appreciation and it concerns a baseball player.   An unique player and he did not wear the number 42 or was he named Robinson.

My childhood hero was black.   I wanted to be him.   I practiced my high leg kick and pitched for hours on a makeshift mound and rubber.    I had a bucket full of balls.  These green and brown balls were stained by dirt and other grime and eventually the seams would break until they were not any longer serviceable.   These flights of fancy put in the front of adoring fans.

I was Bob Gibson.   A flame-throwing right-hander with an attitude.    The real Mr. Gibson dealt with a childhood that was dangerous,  growing up in the projects of Cabrini Green. (A notoriously violent ghetto).  He fought daily and commonly they were racial in nature and sometimes he had white friends fighting along side him.     There was also twice as many whites as there were blacks (Negroes back then).   Even as a kid,  I hated that term and the larger N-Bomb I heard from my own father.   He said,  “they smell among other things”.

One day at the supper table we rebelled at our own risk and pointed out dropping that word was offensive and it was all five of us kids.    It was a seminal moment and we didn’t have  cue,  we got it and made the point that that kind of bigotry was unacceptable!

Bob Gibson was an All-American basketball player at Creighton University and then the Harlem Globetrotters.   He also signed with the St. Louis Cardinals and stopped playing basketball at the insistence of Bing Devine,  the Cardinals General Manager.

As Gibson matured into one of the greatest right-handed pitchers ever.  I used to listen to the games on K-M-O-X in St. Louis, a very famous radio station that aired all the games and I almost always heard  their games.

In one season he had 12 shutouts and an ERA of 1.12.   Both of those are exceptional and legendary especially the ERA.   Gibson said the pitcher mounds were lowered just because he was black.   And he is probably right.

In spite of the racial hubris,  Gibson was loved in the City of the Arch but the same hospitality was not afforded him or the other black Cardinal players.    They had to live in segregated housing in Sarasota,  Florida instead of the hotel in St. Petersburg.

The next year,  the Cardinal’s owner August Busch bought the motel,   declaring that all his players  were equal and would be treated the same no matter their race.

This was also a great selling point for me.    Not only that but many players of that age named Gibson as the greatest pitcher ever.

April 15th of every years all teams and all players wear the #42 of Jackie Robinson.   I wish that only one player would wear that number and preferably a team’s best player.   I  believe that the Cardinals do the same thing each year.   A living memorial to players who clawed through the hell that players suffered through back then.

It will be a sad day for me when he dies.  A part of me will die with him and there are other teammates who were black that also inspired me, such as Lou Brock,  Ozzie Smith and Willie McGee.   I would adopt their personas playing baseball and softball.

Lou Brock 1

In high school I made an unassisted triple play which is a legacy that is still recognized today and that was many passes around the sun by the 3rd Rock from the Sun.

All I know is this is the day that we can make a difference.   Let us get outside of our comfort zone and look for redeeming qualities and I am sure we can.  I would hope that all peoples recognize the inherent beauty of each other and let’s not hate on each other for our race,  political party or skin color.