Occupation of Independence

There is no point in an amateur blogger reacting to the daily news, especially if they just hashed-and-rehashed the same stuff picked over by professional bull-shitters. There is something to be gained by an amateur blogger questioning the assumptions of the professional bull-shitters. The latter don't overtly lie so much as they tacitly agree not to discuss certain questions; that is, they lie by omission, not commission. With that preface out of the way, NATO is "celebrating" its 70th birthday. There has been a bit of discussion about NATO, but they safely avoid discussing anything important. For instance, the media considers it safe to discuss whether European countries contribute enough money to this worthless cause.     Does anyone ever say, "NATO has been obsolete for a quarter of a century?" Probably not. That would get you accused of being a crank, radical, or Russian Collusionist. There are even more fundamental issues. Europe is ceasing to e

It has been quite a challenge to be a doggie's uncle; especially when the dog is a one-year-old, intact male. He was a street urchin picked up by my friend. His coloration reminds you of a blue heeler, but the body type isn't right for that. I concluded that his other half is Mexican Grey Wolf, based on the body, head, teeth, and behavior! At first I resisted zapping him with his electric training shock collar. But after he rammed his muzzle and canine teeth into my chin, I have become a training nazi. On the other hand, he is a real lover boy, friendly, athletic, and good-hearted. His name is 'Hopi.' He has been learning to mountain bike with me. We only had one mishap, which cost me a knee cap. But I still have one good one, left. Unrelated to that, cattle gates still confuse him. Although he isn't going to become my dog, it has been fun to become a type of foster parent, or uncle, to him. So much of his significance comes from considering what he re

So what happens now? Will there be an investigation of collusion between the Democratic National Committee and the Clinton campaign with FBI employees and members of the Obama administration? I predict there won't be a forceful investigation; in part, because of fatigue, and in part because of the mild milquetoast-ness of many Republicans. But there may be a more sinister reason: perhaps they are afraid to investigate the FBI. The FBI's dirty tricks over the years would be brought to light, and besmirch the authority of the Central Government. And perhaps the FBI simply has too much dirt on politicians in both parties. It would be easy for it to get revenge against Congress. The FBI has the same position relative to the American Empire that the Praetorian Guard had to the Roman Empire, or the Janissaries had to the decaying Ottoman Empire. Although I feel no real rage towards the Gullibles (the competitors of the Deplorables) who believed the mainstream media feedi

The title of this post seems facetious, considering I am located in a small town that appears to have too many artists. But what kind of art? It is 'pretty' stuff that is bought by well-heeled matrons from the big city, to cover white spaces on the walls of their new McMansion. Cyootsie-wootsie and useless. And then, by chance, I ran across another type of art that really affected me. Recall Tolstoy's essay, "What is Art?", wherein he defines art as sounds, words, and pictures that transfer emotions from the artist to the viewer/audience. The cartoon was lifted out of LivingStingy.blogspot.com. I am not sure where he lifted it from, but at least the cartoon is signed. What an under-rated artist a cartoonist can be! Expect to see this cartoon show up again on Fourth of July and Veteran's Day posts.

It seems as though there are twice as many Arizona Trail walkers as there were last year. It has been cool and rainy, so none of them have had the silver umbrellas strapped to their backpacks that they've had in the past. I loved those para-sols. Taken as an individual thing, a parasol almost makes me sympathetic to what I call 'los peregrinos,' since that is the only way I can visualize somebody being motivated to pursue such a slow, plodding sport through so many miles of ghastly heat. Yes, peregrinos of the Church of the Holy Green. At least they fit in with the town. There is some mine exploration or cleanup of old mining areas in the vicinity. Most of the town dislikes the mining industry, and tried to stop it from reviving in the local mountains. I am the misfit in town, because I was pro-miner. Still, I can't say I enjoy sharing the narrow dirt roads with their big trucks. On the way back from today's ride, I could see a giant red dump truck approaching