Occupation of Independence

The world just doesn't appreciate how hard Greta (Thunberg) and I work to save the Planet. My earlier post about imposing a planetary lockdown against scenery tourism did not generate a massive amount of applause. Very well then, I accept the challenge of  improving the plan. Just look at the throw-away water and soft drink bottles that have to be hauled out of here after a holiday! Disgusting. How about a $1 tax on every one of those bottles. I'm not being facetious. I wonder how many of these bottle-junkies are blue-voting, green-voting hypocrites from Boulder and Denver. There should be a "head tax" every time they cross the county line.  Better yet, tourists should be sent to a dot gov site to initiate the process of filling out a simple 23-screen application for a scenery-passport. Guarantee them a response within 6 months. If they don't like this method, they could stay closer to home where there are excellent recreational trails and public parks. If those

I was almost laughing at myself as I did it: as I drove the utility vehicle by a campsite of (south Asian) Indians, I waved at small Indian children, and they waved back. It was impossible not to feel delighted with the little munchkins.  I actually remember my grandparents acting like that around my siblings and me 60 years ago. But I never act like that around mainstream-white-middle-class kids, and haven't for decades. In fact I completely ignore them. I dislike them. Why the double standard? Physical cuteness? -- nah. Do they first perceive behavior from me that then starts them into cute behavior? Or do they start it? What a strange thing it is for a human to be delighted with just about any dog and to feel indifference or even disdain toward little members of his own species. I doubt my reaction is all that different from most Americans. It is possible that the inability to be delighted with "our own" children is one of the best proofs that we are circling the drain

Two perfect days in one week. You won't believe this but I actually sat in a chair outdoors.  Rare for me, but some people do a lot of it. The air was a little cool and the sun was a little warm. So it was possible to adjust the angles to be perfect. But what about what really matters: the wind. It was dead calm. What a rare experience it is in the Southwest not to feel under relentless assault from the sun and wind and blowing dust. Perfect moments are really perfect when they are combined with just the right music. A good suggestion for this moment is Schubert's Rosamunde D. 797, No.3 (Andantino). My goodness, they love to label things with confusing jargon. It is on an album, "Schubert, The Essentials." In order to deprive Bezos of a little business, my music comes from ClassicalArchives.com  .    

Many people have probably watched videos of the tsunami that hit Japan a half dozen years ago. Some people describe the shoreline pulling out to sea just before the tsunami hits. Sometimes they talk about an eerie silence. I guess that is easy to explain: as the shoreline pulls away from you, the usual sound of waves on the shore is further away from you. _____________________________________  Today I was trying not to surrender to Fear and Dread about the upcoming holiday since there should be one more day of normalcy, it seemed. It was late morning and yet the wind was not howling. The morning outflow of campers was already over. The campground had an eerie silence to it. I turned the engine off so I could just soak it in. It was a precious moment and deserved to be honored. Then suddenly, without any warning, cars started driving into the campground. Their driving wasn't blatantly aggressive, but somehow it seemed menacing. Oh no, here it comes! I thought it would hold off until