Sorry!

Interesting article in today's LAT about some former members of Exodus International, an organization devoted to "curing" gay people of their homosexuality who publicly apologized Wednesday for the harm they said their efforts had caused many gays and lesbians who believed the group's message that sexual orientation could be changed through prayer.

That's great; I'm glad they've apologized. But their harm went beyond those gay individuals who believed Exodus International's snake oil claims. Exodus International also pushes the notion within society that being gay is a "lifestyle choice" and something that one can change if only one will "work" at it. That's complete bullshit and it gives cover to evil Christianists and cynical power-grabbers such as the Bush junta.

An apology to individual gay people harmed by your actions is a nice start, guys. But it's not enough.

Eight More Things

Mad Melancholic Feminista tagged me, so here are 8 more things you may not have known about me:

1. I can recite, from memory, huge swaths of Dorothy Parker's ouvre.

2. In high school, I cooked my way through books in the high school library entitled Austrian Cooking and Greek Cooking. I made my own sourdough bread starter and made sourdough bread every week. I made tea and oranges that came all the way from China. I made mint jelly from the mint in my mother's garden. I made boeuf burgundy from the Julia Child cookbook. I made eclairs. I made Lady Baltimore cake. I made mead. I still make a mean spanakopita. But I prefer to make reservations.

3. I purchased the first edition of Ms. Magazine ever printed and, as a result, had long debates w/ my best friend about why we wear underwear.

4. I count among my best friends at least one domanitrix, one prominent author of slash fiction, several members of polyamorous relationships, at least one sub, and quite a few v. hot babes.

5. I grow gardenias and sage, thyme and roses, jack-in-the-pulpit and mint, caladyia and woad, daylillies and sweet woodruff.

6. I record my dreams.

7. I wake up every morning and think, "Ah. Jeff Skilling's in jail and I'm not. I think I'll pet my cat, drink fresh coffee, walk in my garden, and enjoy the day." Fuck you, Jeff. Fuck you very much. She laughs last who laughs best.

8. For years, I meditated upon the Nine of Pentacles card. Wherever you go, there you are.

I tag Necropolis Now, watertiger, NTodd, and Mrs. Morrison.

She Might Have A Point

Air

Fire

A Word To Those Who Oppose The War

Rise like Lions after slumber
In unvanquishable number,
Shake your chains to earth like dew
Which in sleep had fallen on you-
Ye are many — they are few.

~Shelley

Christianist Attacks on Democratic Pagans

Jason, at the Wild Hunt, has a disturbing story of a Pagan politician being singled-out for harassment and intimidation by a group of Christianists.

Rita Moran is the Chair of the Kennebec County Democratic Committee in Maine. She runs a local bookstore, Apple Valley Books, that sells Pagan books, including books related to Pagan parenting, a popular topic among Pagans, most of whom converted to Paganism as adults and are now having families that they want to raise in their religion. Moran is also a member of the Immanent Grove, a gnostic circle.

A group that goes by what I consider to be the unAmerican name The Christian Civic League has put up a web page with information about Moran's political postition and her religious beliefs, including the terrifying fact that she sells books for Pagan parents. The Christian Civic League helpfully provides lots of contact informaton, including Moran's address, phone numbers, and e-mail addresses. We all know the purpose of that.

Moran reports that: My primary concerns are financial. When this happened, I "zeroed out" the donation total on our county Dems website (http://www.kennebecdems.org). There has not been a single donation since I've been "outed". I'm even more concerned about the loss of business here at our bookshop as Michael Hein's attack turns to even more vicious rumors. I guess what I'd ask from the community is whatever support they can offer. Tranquil energy, book orders, donations to our county committee if you wish to recognize that aspect of my community service. Thanks all..."

I don't have much to add to what Jason said in his post. I just think this story needs to get out. This is an attack not only on Pagans, but on Democrats, as well. It's also, as Jason notes, part of a deliberate campaign to make it impossible to hold office in America if you don't belong to one of the two main Abrahamic cults. Fuck that shit.

Send the Kennebeck Dems some love.

The Shock Of Communion

As a scholar of Caribbean literature writes, again of the Vodou rites: "This experience of election [possession trance], its shock of communion, is not evidence of psychic disruption, or proof of pathology, but rather a result of the most intense discipline and study. Not everyone can be possessed, for not everyone can know how to respond to the demands and expectations of her god." So the ecstatic rites of these diaspora religions were not mad orgies, as whites often perceived them, but deliberately nurtured techniques of ecstasy, derived from ancient traditions.

~From Dancing in the Streets: A History of Collective Joy by Barbra Ehrenreich.

January 20, 2009 May Be Too Late

From today's EEI newsletter:

Climate Change Forging Unusual Unity in European Community

American Prospect Co-Editor Robert Kuttner, in an op-ed published by the Boston Globe, said the normally fractious politics of the European Union have turned into cooperation on the issue of climate change: "European governments have invested heavily in alternative energy technologies, and induced utilities to rely increasingly on renewable sources. This not only cuts greenhouse emissions, but produces a market for new technologies, making such nations as Spain and Germany export leaders in advanced windmills and solar panels."

The European focus on climate change has sharpened this decade for four key reasons, Kuttner noted: The Stern report on the financial costs of climate change; "the failure of French and Dutch voters in 2005 to ratify the proposed new EU constitution (which) left Europe's leaders struggling to find a common project to restore momentum and unity, and they found that in climate change; the assumption of the rotating EU presidency this year by German Chancellor Angela Merkel, a former minister of environment; and the Bush administration's earlier unwillingness to accept climate change science, "where Europe has earned the right to lead and to relish its leadership."
Boston Globe, op-ed , June 25.

Thanks to the Bush junta's hatred of science, Spain and Germany have jumped ahead of us as producers of windmills and solar panels and Europe has seized the lead on issues of global climate change. America has been harmed in so many ways by this junta. We need to get rid of them now.

Everywhere

Plato's Ghost Can Bite Me

What Then?

His chosen comrades thought at school
He must grow a famous man;
He thought the same and lived by rule,
All his twenties crammed with toil;
`What then?' sang Plato's ghost. `What then?'

Everything he wrote was read,
After certain years he won
Sufficient money for his need,
Friends that have been friends indeed;
`What then?' sang Plato's ghost. `What then?'

All his happier dreams came true -
A small old house, wife, daughter, son,
Grounds where plum and cabbage grew,
Poets and Wits about him drew;
`What then?' sang Plato's ghost. `What then?'

`The work is done,' grown old he thought,
`According to my boyish plan;
Let the fools rage, I swerved in naught,
Something to perfection brought';
But louder sang that ghost, `What then?'

~Yeats

My New Name For A Blog

What Jane said.

If you’ve got a blog, no matter how small, please put up a link. It actually takes a ridiculously small number of books (relative to total sales) to push a book to #1 on Amazon and that plays a big part in his ability to get on the NYT best seller list and gain wider notice and recognition for the tremendous amount of work he did to put this book together.

Glenn shows up every day for us. Let’s show up for Glenn

Goddess knows, I've got a small blog and that's ok with me. I'm always going to be a boutique, more appealing to a small crowd of interesting people than to a larger crowd. But if you like what you read here, please go buy Greenwald's book. He completely rocks.

It's what a patriot would do.

Earth

And everyday, you walk around on top of it. And when you ground, this is where you sink your roots into. And, sometimes, if you're like me, you forget just how magical it really is.

Go

But Also Because We Are A Rich Country

From Today's EEI Newsletter:

Zero Emissions, Carbon Capture Highlight Norwegian Planning

Norway plans to be the first "zero-emission" nation by 2050, E&E News PM reported. In announcing a goal of reducing GHGs by 10 percent within five years and 30 percent by 2020, Norwegian Prime Minister Jens Stoltenberg said: "Norway has a particular responsibility regarding the reduction of greenhouse gas emissions in part because we have been producing hydrocarbons, that is to say fossil fuels, for a number of years, but also because we are a rich country."

Elements of the plan include a ban on oil-burning stoves; increasing the use of biofuel by 7 percent by 2010; a quota system for the transport industry, subsidies for green energy providers, reforestation, tolls for city drivers, and a ban on throwing away recyclable goods. Agence France Presse quoted Norges Natur og Ungdom environmentalist Lars Haltbrekken as saying: "In the best case scenario, we will have in 2020 the same greenhouse gas emissions we have today. In the worst, we will be emitting more in 2020."

Greenwire reported that Norway will test carbon-capture technology in 2008 at a refinery in Mongstad, Norway. Statoil will use chilled ammonia to capture as much as 80,000 tons of CO2 each year from flue gases or from a new combined-cycle plant under construction nearby. Alstom Power Systems designed the CO2-capture technology, Greenwire reported, quoting President Philippe Joubert as saying the project "represents our mutual commitment to both the [chilled ammonia] technology and society at large."
E&E News PM ; Greenwire , June 22.

Kind Of Says It All

From today's NYT:

Church leaders say they are frustrated by Catholic politicians like Rudolph W. Giuliani who say they oppose abortion but do not want to impose their beliefs.

Here's a clue, fucktards. This is not Tenth Century Europe. This is Twenty-First Century America and you don't get to impose your evil, woman-hating ways on the rest of us. Now go bugger an altar boy.

*************************


And for the sake of my blood pressure, we'll just ignore the article's opening line: At first glance, Rudolph W. Giuliani should be an appealing presidential candidate for observant Roman Catholics. Sure, sure, other than, you know, having been twice-divorced and having lived openly in sin with several of his mistresses. Other than that. And his condoning a war that even Ratzi the Natzi says is immoral. Other than that, he's the best Catholic candidate EVER.

Air

Water

Fire

A Matter Of State

Ken MacLeod explains the flaw in Tony Blair's plans for post-prime-ministerhood. Ken's theory might make sense, if the antichrist weren't already alive and well at 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue. And, I think Neil Gaiman already wrote this book.

Gardening In Urban Spaces

Good Magazine has two related articles concerning gardening as a subversive activity. The first, Horticulture Jamming discusses how Cadres of illicit horticulturists, equipped with hoes and shovels, have been venturing into the [London] night to plant guerrilla gardens -- carefully landscaped areas in the small open spaces that cities build to beautify the landscape but then so often leave fallow. The movement, cultivated [cute, heh?] online by 30-year-old Richard Reynolds, . . . has spread throughout the United Kingdom . . . . Missions require reconnaissance, strategy, and stealthy gardening, and each successful planting strikes a blow for a more refined metropolital aesthetic.

The second article, Parlor Park explains that Verde Coalition, a Los Angeles non-profit turns grim scraps of public land -- like bus stops, traffic meridians, or dangerous street corners -- into welcoming public spaces. In Los Angeles, where many low-income communities enjoy almost no park space, a new "living room" cheaply and quickly creates a mini-sanctuary from the fast-paced and sometimes ugly reality of the city. The article describes how the addition of a few benches and flowers to an empty lot induced locals to hang out there, making the drug-users and prostitutes who had been using the space look for other locations.

I'd love to do some guerrilla gardening within the context of a ritual, maybe charging the plants and other objects before doing the actual planting so that they could release peace, healing, pleasure to the surrounding area. Perinnial herbs would be great, as they'd come back year after year, will grow even when neglected, and often provide food for bees and butterflies.

Treason Is A High Crime. Impeach Bush Now.

Two months before the Iraq war began, President Bush received detailed and comprehensive secret reports warning him that the likely result of an American-led invasion of Iraq would be increased support for Islamic fundamentalism, deep divisions in Iraqi society, high levels of violent internal conflict, and guerrilla warfare aimed at U.S. forces.

Yet in spite of those analyses, President Bush chose to supress those warnings and conceal that information, and instead he went right on conveying to the American people the absurdly Pollyannaish view of highly questionable and obviously biased sources like Ahmed Chalabi, a convicted felon and known swindler.

~from The Assault on Reason by Al Gore

Worse, he went ahead with his vanity war, which had no justification other than Rove's desire to make Bush a "war president." If there was ever a clearer case for impeachment, I'm unaware of it.

Sunday Akhmatova Blogging

Some of Akhmatova's best-loved poetry was inspired by her experience of standing in line with other women outside a Soviet prison, waiting to see a loved one -- in Akhmatova's case, her son.

Epilogue

II

Remembrance hour returns with the turning year.
I see, I hear, I touch you drawing near:

the one we tried to help to the sentry's booth,
and who no longer walks this precious earth,

and that one who would toss her pretty main
and say, "It's just like coming home again."

I want to name the names of all that host,
but they snatched up the list, and now it's lost.

I've woven them a garment that's prepared
out of poor words, those that I overhead,

and will hold fast to every word and glance
all of my days, even in new mischance,

and if a gag should bind my tortured mouth,
through which a hundred million people shout,

then let them pray for me, as I do pray
for them, this eve of my remembrance day.

And if my country ever should assent
to casting in my name a monument,

I should be proud to have my memory graced,
but only if the monument be placed

not near the sea on which my eyes first opened --
my last link with the sea has long been broken --

nor in the Tsar's garden near the sacred stump,
where a grieved shadow hunts my body's warmth,

But here, where I endured three hundred hours
in line before the implacable iron bars.

Because even in blissful death I fear
to lose the clangor of the Black Marias,

to lose the banging of that odious gate
and the old crone howling like a wounded beast.

And from my motionless bronze-lidded sockets
may the melting snow, like teardrops, slowly trickle,

and a prison dove coo somewhere, over and over,
as the ships sail softly down the flowing Neva.

~March 1940

The photo above shows relative lined up outside abu Ghraib. One wonders how many women stand in line outside prisons in Iraq and one wonders how many would stand outside Guantanamo, were it not impossible to do so. Akhmatova speak as eloquently for them as she did for the Black Marias and the howling old crone. Send Amnesty International a few dollars in her memory. Say a prayer for political prisoners everywhere.

What Caroline Tully Said

Why should I even bother to express my awe at Nature in a ritual way? Because it is boring to go around not taking notice of this wonderous place in which we find ourselves and ritual is a pleasing artistic expresion of the relationship between ourselves and the orders of existence with which we live. I think I'll go do all that now. Happy Winter Solstice.

Eight Random Facts

Having been tagged by Aquila ka Hecate, whom I adore, I hereby list eight random facts about myself:

1. I crave caviar. Once, in my entire 51 years, I got enough caviar to satisfy myself. My borg opened a new office in LA and I got flown out for the party. There was a seafood station and a buddy from the borg came and dragged me over there as cover so he could eat crab legs all night long. I ate so much caviar that the nice man in the waiter's jacket went back twice for refills. My brilliant D-i-L shares this appetite w/ me, as we established at brunch on New Year's day 2001. If they ever give sufficient warning that the world is going to end, I'll spend my final hours eating caviar, drinking frozen Stoli, and reading the world's great poems. I'm going to start w/ Rumi.

2. I love to swim. My sun is in Pisces, so this isn't too surprising.

3. I own almost 200 Hermes scarves and am, likely, one of the world's 100 best-educated experts on Hermes scarves.

4. My cat is a Chartreux, a French breed of excellent mousers. She's nine years old and is my dearest love. When my ankle was broken, she perched on top of the break and purred me back into life. She will only let you see her if she likes your aura.

5. I'm a huge fan of Leonard Cohen, Wynton Marsallis, bagpipes played in dappled sun and shade. and Joan Baez. I am a ballet-o-phil. I am fed by both the black swan portion of Swan Lake and by George Harrison-based ballets. In the life that I was supposed to live this time around, I went from concert to ballet to salon. I'm going to find out who is to blame for the mix-up and I am going to hurt them.

6. My as-yet-unrealized ambitions are to learn to fence and to play the harp. My heart splits its time between the marble monuments of Washington, D.C. and the mountains of Berkley, West Virginia.

7. The books in my house are orgainzed thus: Poetry in the kitchen, by author; fiction in the living-room bookshelves by author, including the porn; non-fiction in the ritual room by Library of Congress numbers, with Wiccan books in a separate shelf, organized by Library of Congress numbers. I loan books willingly, but I do remember. Many of the happiest moments of my life have been spent reading. If I were forced to choose, I'd take Madeline L'Engle to the desert island, but I'd try to sneak in some Rumi.

8. The residual heirs in my will are Derrick Jensen, NOW, and Greenpeace. The poems designated in my will are "When Death Comes" and "Little Summer Poem" by Mary Oliver and "Charge of the Goddess" by Doreen Valiente. The songs are "Rise Up" by Shawna Carroll and "I Am a Patriot" by Jackson Browne. After that, I expect a mad party to ensue.

I tag Thorn, Angela, Reya, Katrina, Molly, watertiger, innana, Necropolis Now, Deborah Oak, and Anne Johnson.

Saturday Goddess Blogging

Last year, my circle of amazing women worked with the Goddess Hygeia. Although once worshiped in temples with a set of rituals that were written down and well-known, today, there is little known about Hygeia and her worship. For my circle, she was the Goddess of Healthy Growth, causing some of us to focus on our physical health (~raises hand~) and helping our circle itself to grow. Some of us (~raises hand~) will continue to work with her at our individual altars and in our daily practice. Yet we were stymied by the lack of information about Hygeia.

This year, my circle is going to be working with Lilith and there's simply an embarassment of riches concerning information about this Goddess. Lilith may have first been associated with the wind in ancient Mesopotamia. It's a serious thing for American witches to invoke an Iraqi Goddess in these times. But we did lots of divination, both before and during our annual retreat and Lilith and her owls kept coming up. She's new to me, and I may focus on her for several sessions of Saturday Goddess Blogging.

According to Wiki: It is said that every mirror is a passage into the Otherworld and leads to Lilith's cave. The cave that Lilith went to after she had abandoned Adam and Eden for all time and the same cave that Lilith took up demon lovers in. From these unholy unions, Lilith birthed multitudes of demons, who flocked from that cave and infested the world. When these demons want to return they simply enter the nearest mirror, that is why Lilith makes her home in every mirror.

I'm going to try this week to remember to acknowledge Lilith every time that I look into a mirror, to honor her feminine energy, her spirit that would not be submissive to Adam. This old folk-practice of the Jews holds within itself, of course, a large message: anytime that a woman looks into a mirror, it's another opportunity for her to see that she is Lilith, that a large part of her being has been forced to flee underground and that there is safety for her from the patriarchy in hiding, especially in hiding her loves and her productions.

Here's a Hymn to Lilith:

I call unto the Lady of the Night
The Succubus, the Queen of Hell's Delight
Night-Mare of Eden, Lamia, First Eve
Lilith, in whom I trust and believe.
Oh, Wise Woman of the Wilderness

Oh, Maiden who disobeys to redress,
Witch-Queen of Midnight in sensual dress,
Who rules over man and his carnal flesh.
She who deserted the Garden of Light,

Who ran into Darkness and found her own Sight
Her power to become more than she was made,
To become a Nightspirited Nymph of the Shade.
Great Lover of men in the full moon light,

Who conceals herself gently within the night
Who inspires the daughters of Eve to rebel
To overcome obstacles, and to excel.
She who found love in the Fallen Angel,

Azazel the Prince, the Commander of Hell
She who revolts against all convention
And whose wisdom is beyond mortal mention.
Oh Lilith, to Thee I give solemn praise

Great Goddess who kills and destroys my malaise
My life and my blood for the Demoness
Whose soul is a night-cloaked, loving caress!

Copyright © 2006 Geifodd.

Art found here, and here.

Dangerous Poetry

From Furious Spinner's blog:

Is it true that the grass grows again after rain?
Is it true that the flowers will rise up again in the Spring?
Is it true that birds will migrate home again?
Is it true that the salmon swim back up their streams?
It is true. This is true. These are all miracles.
But is it true that one day we’ll leave Guantanamo Bay?
Is it true that one day we’ll go back to our homes?
I sail in my dreams. I am dreaming of home." —Osama Abu Kadir, a Jordanian truck driver now imprisoned in Guantánamo Bay

24,000

I am with my mother's mother's mothers and with my Son's son's sons.

How Long Will You Be Their Chump At Eighteen + Percent?

"We must shift America from a needs to desires culture," Mazur said. "People must be trained to desire, to want new things, even before the old have been entirely consumed. We must shape a new mentality. Man's [sic] desires must overshadow his [sic] needs."

~FromThe Assault on Reason by Al Gore

So many Wiccans have "financial issues" -- huge credit card debt, an inability to live within their means, problems with resources.

Why? To how many ads have you fallen victim? What kind of circle could you cast in order to protect yourself?

It Was Half My Fault And Half The Atmosphere

Now the Swan it floated on the English river
Ah the Rose of High Romance it opened wide
A sun tanned woman yearned me through the summer
and the judges watched us from the other side.

I told my mother "Mother I must leave you
preserve my room but do not shed a tear
Should rumour of a shabby ending reach you
it was half my fault and half the atmosphere"

But the Rose I sickened with a scarlet fever
and the Swan I tempted with a sense of shame
She said at last I was her finest lover
and if she withered I would be to blame

The judges said you missed it by a fraction
rise up and brace your troops for the attack
Ah the dreamers ride against the men of action
Oh see the men of action falling back

But I lingered on her thighs a fatal moment
I kissed her lips as though I thirsted still
My falsity had stung me like a hornet
The poison sank and it paralysed my will

I could not move to warn all the younger soldiers
that they had been deserted from above
So on battlefields from here to Barcelona
I'm listed with the enemies of love

And long ago she said "I must be leaving,
Ah but keep my body here to lie upon
You can move it up and down and when I'm sleeping
Run some wire through that Rose and wind the Swan"

So daily I renew my idle duty
I touch her here and there -- I know my place
I kiss her open mouth and I praise her beauty
and people call me traitor to my face

*****************************************************
Cohen says that this song is about the feeling that we have of betryaing some mission that we were mandated to fulfill, not fulfilling it, and then coming to understand that the real mandate was not to fulfill it and that the deeper courage was to stand guiltlesss in the situation in which you find yourself.

Wisdom From Leonard

You've got to write down what you're going to abandon.

~Leonard Cohen

Goddess, I could fall in love with a man who understood what that has to do with my writing.

My New Name For A Blog

What WGG said.

What Digby Said

There's really little reason for me to link to Sinfonian's transcript of Digby's fantastic speech; it's been linked to by blogs far more well-read than mine. But I'm linking to it because what Digby says is, as is so often the case, absolutely spot on.

Here's just a taste:

But all of us who blog in the progressive blogosphere have a common goal. It’s the same goal of virtually everyone in this room tonight. We want to begin a new era of progressive politics and take back America. We may argue about tactics and strategy, or the extent to which we are partisans versus ideologues (and believe me, we do), but there is no disagreement among us that the modern conservative movement of Newt and Grover and Karl and Rush has proven to be a dangerous cultural and political cancer on the body politic. You will not find anyone amongst us who believes that the Bush Administration’s executive power grab and flagrant partisan use of the federal government is anything less than an assault on the Constitution. We stand together against the dissolution of habeas corpus and the atrocities of Abu Ghraib and Guantanamo, and we all agree that Islamic terrorism is a threat, but one which we cannot meet with military power alone. And yes, a vast majority of us were against this mindless invasion of Iraq from the beginning, or at least saw the writing on the wall long before Peggy Noonan discovered that George W. Bush wasn’t the second coming of Winston Churchill.

Sadly, we also all agree that the mainstream media is part of the problem. Democracy suffers when not being held accountable by a vigorous press. During the last decade, there have been three catalyzing events that drove people like me to the Internet, to research, investigate, and write about assaults on democracy itself. In 1998, the political media lost all perspective, and aggressively helped the Republicans pursue a partisan witch-hunt against a democratically-elected president and against the will of the people. The coverage of the presidential election of 2000 was legendary for its bias and sophomoric personality journalism. The press actually joined the Republicans in telling the majority who had voted for Al Gore to get over it. I don’t know about you, but I never got over it. And the third event (I don’t need to tell anyone in this room) was the almost gleeful support of the invasion of Iraq, a journalistic failure of epic proportions. If you had not been sufficiently aroused from your complacency by this time, you never would be.

The blogosphere was the natural place for many of us to turn when the institutions we counted upon seemed to be daring us to believe them, or believe our own eyes. And that coming-together set the table for the seminal candidacy of Howard Dean and all that has come since.

As it turned out, we didn’t just raise money for progressive Democrats, although many of my fellow bloggers raised a whole big pile of it from our readers all over the country. We began to push back the prevailing manufactured narratives, produced in bulk by various Republican PR shops and distributed to their talking heads in radio and television. We talked back to the media, and yes, to our own party, some of whom understood that while we were opinionated thorns in their side, we were also opinion makers, read by influentials in the everyday world of water coolers and dinner tables all over the country. We were a part of the base that could move other parts of the base, and a counter to the prevailing political stories and narratives of the day. And they know we could potentially help create a new modern political movement.

And so here we are – the famously vituperative, angry bloggers, standing before you today politely accepting this award as proud, full-fledged inheritors of the great liberal and progressive political traditions of America. On behalf of all of them and netroots activists, and especially on behalf of our dear friend, Steve Gilliard, a fighting liberal of both the old the new schools, I thank you again for inviting us to your party. Our party rages on, 24/7, all over the blogosphere, and we’d love it if all of you would stop by frequently.

The Longest Day

Just finished one of the most wonderful Summer Solstice rituals of my life, led by my v. creative circle sister, K. I want to say that I practice the kind of magic that I long dreamed of practicing with the kind of women with whom I long dreamed that I'd do magic. I say that because there were years and years when, a solitary in a rural community, all I could do was long for that and there were years and years when every Pagan group that I contacted was, somehow, just not right for me. And if that's true for you, right now, my Solstice wish for you is for you to find a circle of women even half as magically-committed to the Earth, as kind, as smart, as accomplished, as creative, as gorgeous, and as kick-ass as the women in my circle. So mote it be.

Here's my absolute, all-time favorite Summer Solstice poem, from, of course, Mary Oliver.

Little Summer Poem Touching the Subject of Faith

Every summer
I listen and look
under the sun's brass and even
into the moonlight, but I can't hear

anything, I can't see anything --
not the pale roots digging down, nor the green stalks muscling up,
nor the leaves
deepening their damp pleats,

nor the tassels making,
nor the shucks, nor the cobs.
And still,
every day,

the leafy fields
grow taller and thicker --
green gowns lofting up in the night,
showered with silk.

And so, every summer,
I fail as a witness, seeing nothing --
I am deaf too
to the tick of the leaves,

the tapping of downwardness from the banyan feet --
all of it
happening
beyond any seeable proof, or hearable hum.

And, therefore, let the immeasurable come.
Let the unknowable touch the buckle of my spine.
Let the wind turn in the trees,
and the mystery hidden in the dirt

swing through the air.
How could I look at anything in this world
and tremble, and grip my hands over my heart?
What should I fear?

One morning
in the leafy green ocean
the honeycomb of the corn's beautiful body
is sure to be there.

From West Wind: Poems and Prose Poems, by Mary Oliver. Published by Houghton Mifflin Co., Boston. Copyright 1997 by Mary Oliver.

Blessed Summer Solstice to you.

High Summer

And, almost exactly on time, there it was. At 1:45 today, standing at the corner of Connecticut Avenue and N Street, I watched a strong breeze push a swirl of dead leaves around everyone's feet. True, they were magnolia leaves, which fall all year; nonetheless, I could hear the whisper: Autumn's coming, Autumn's coming.

Today will be a little bit longer than tomorrow and tomorrow will be a little bit longer than today, but Friday will be a little bit shorter than tomorrow. And round and round the wheel does turn.

If I Can't Dance In Your Revolution

Barbara Ehrenreich has some fascinating things to say in her book about communal ecstasy: Dancing in the Streets. Discussing the fact that, in the wake of colonial destruction of native religious practices, many native groups, rather than becoming good Puritans or Catholics or whatever, developed "new and often defiant ecstatic religious cults," including African Independent Churches, Native American Dream Dance and Ghost Dance, Maori Hau-hau, etc. Ehrenreich notes that Europeans and Americans viewed "such rites with impatience, if not disgust. Dancing in circles does not, after all, as was claimed in some cases, make men immune to bullets or cause colonizers to depart in their ships. . . . But it is this smug Western vantage point, rather than the rituals of 'simpler peoples' that cries out for psychological interpretation." She continues:

The historian Michale Walzer has argued that modern revolution was a task for the kind of ascetic, single-minded, self-denying personality that Calvinism sought to inculcate, and certainly some of the successful revolutionaries of the West would seem to fill the bill. [T]he English revolutionary leader Oliver Cromwell, a Calvinist himself, railed perpetually against the festive inclinations of his troops. The Jacobin leader Robespierre despised disorderly gatherings, including 'any group in which there is a tumult' -- a hard thing to avoid during the French Revolution, one might think. . . . Lenin inveighed against 'slovenliness . . . carelessness, untidiness, unpunctuality' as well as 'dissoluteness in sexual life,' seeing himself as a 'manager' and 'controller' as well as a leader. For men like Robespierre and Lenin, the central revolutionary rite was the meeting -- experienced in a sitting position, requiring no form of participation other than an occasional speech, and conducted according to strict rules of procedure. Dancing, singing, trances -- these could only be distractions from the weighty business at hand.

Yet, as Ehrenreich points out: What is achieved through such rituals, in a purely functional sense, is an intense feeling of solidarity among the participants -- at least all accounts suggest as much -- and solidarity is the basis of effective political action from below. Even the 'fantasies' entertained by participants, or apprehended in trance, surely have an empowering effect. The filed hand who achieves unity with a [G]od through a Vodou possession trance, and the market woman who leads a second life as a priestess -- these are formidable adversaries.

I'd argue, of course, that dancing in a circle can indeed produce dramatic results, but Ehrenreich is right. We err when we only consider the value of a practice from our own Calvinistic view. I think that may be an error that today's peace movement makes. We need to reevaluate what a revolution would look like from views other than our own. Audre Lord may not have been completely correct when she opined that the master's tools will never destroy the master's house, but that's no reason not to explore other tools, as well.

Earth

We are many. They are few.

A point worth remembering.

Hat tip to my madcap friend, R.

And Soon, You'll Be Able To Buy A Gift Card With Your Groceries

From today's EEI newsletter:

Prepaid Electricity Latest Trend in Utility Service Marketing

A growing number of utilities have begun experimenting with prepaid electricity accounts, the Wall Street Journal reported today. Proponents said prepaid accounts help customers keep track of their usage and encourage conservation.

Salt River Project, which runs the largest prepaid program in the country, said its prepaid customers have seen a 12-percent reduction in average bills from conservation. Some critics said the accounts could lead to abrupt shutoffs if the account runs out of money. Currently six utilities are experimenting with prepaid programs, but that could increase quickly if Texas utility regulators move this summer to allow it there.

Wrote the newspaper: "Experimentation with prepaid-service meters is part of a broader trend that is changing the electric meter from a dumb recorder of kilowatt hours consumed into a conservation tool capable of helping people monitor their use and which will allow utilities to talk directly to customers. Billions of dollars are being spent by utilities to install advanced meters that track the amount of energy consumed at different times of the day, a capability that is expected to lead to rate plans that include higher prices when wholesale energy costs are higher and cheaper prices at times of slack demand."
Wall Street Journal , June 19.


Anything that helps conserve energy sounds like a good idea to me these days.

My New Name For A Blog

What NTodd said.

Hillary Does the Sopranos

Hillary Clinton plays Tony Soprano. Bill plays Carmella. "Chelsea" plays Meadow. Johnny "Sack" plays, well, Johnny Sack.


Hat tip to Dave at Eschaton.

Lights Out

From today's EEI newsletter:

New Book, 'Lights Out,' Predicts More Blackouts if Grid Not Bolstered

Reuters produced a book review of "Lights Out" by Jason Makansi, which contends that the nation's power grids require a prompt upgrade to avert potential blackouts. The review cites Makansi as saying deregulation is the main culprit, because by splitting the ownership of power plants from the owners of grids, the latter became a "neglected stepchild."

Makansi sees the rise of financial engineering – with results such as the California power crisis six years ago – as displacing systems engineering, and said no matter how technologically and environmentally sound new power plants are they still will have to transmit that power on antiquated grids. As a comparison, he writes: "Imagine driving a Maserati over a road littered with potholes."

Makansi suggests increasing nuclear generation from about one fifth of domestic power supply to 50 percent, and he found good news in the spread of "smart meters," writing: "It should be the consumer who decides how competition should unfold, and not the regulator."
Reuters via the Boston Globe, book review , June 17.

Hillary Leads Obama

NYT article doesn't say, but I'd be willing to bet that Hillary can take Guiliani, if that's what the race comes down to. Meanwhile, the Hillary-haters need to start getting over it.

Sickening

Apparently, ever since the Brits left Afghanistan in the incapable hands of the Bush junta, things have been going from bad to worse. Today's >WaPo reports that:

ISLAMABAD, Pakistan, June 18 -- U.S.-led coalition forces killed seven children in an airstrike against a suspected al-Qaeda hideout in Afghanistan on Sunday, adding to a civilian death toll that has become an increasing source of tension between the coalition and the government of Afghan President Hamid Karzai.
. . .

Coalition troops had "surveillance on the compound all day and saw no indications there were children inside the building," Belcher said. "This is another example of al-Qaeda using the protective status of a mosque, as well as innocent civilians, to shield themselves . . . We are saddened by the innocent lives that were lost as a result of militants' cowardice."

"If we knew that there were children inside the building, there was no way that that airstrike would have occurred," said Sgt. 1st Class Dean Welch, another coalition spokesman.

Winning hearts and minds. Is there anything this junta can't fuck up?

Drum for Peace

My genius friend, B., sent me the information on this great event happening Monday, June 25th, on the National Mall. If you're in or around D.C., it looks like an amazing thing to do. A few women from my circle may be attending with their children and grandchildren.

Drum, Dance, and Dream for Peace: The Largest Drumming Circle Ever Created on the Planet

June 25th Noon

THE CEREMONY FOR THE CHILDREN'S FUTURE:

16 CHILDREN OF THE COLORS OF MANKIND WILL GATHER TOGETHER.

FOUR EACH WILL STAND IN THE FOUR DIRECTIONS WEST, NORTH, EAST AND SOUTH. A REPRESENTATION OF THE EARTH ( A LARGE POSTER PAINTING OF THE MOTHER EARTH) WILL BE IN THE CENTER. THE CHILDREN WILL DANCE IN A CIRCLE FACING THE MOTHER EARTH.
AFTER ENCIRCLING FOUR TIMES (DANCING FOR MOTHER EARTH, BAREFOOT) THEY WILL STOP.

THEY WILL SAY A SIMPLE PRAYER IN THEIR LANGUAGE:FOR THE FUTURE OF MOTHER EARTH AND ALL HER INHABITANTS.

FOUR GRANDMOTHERS OF FOUR RACES WILL BRING THEM BOWLS, PAINTED RED, WHITE, YELLOW AND BLUE. SIXTEEN BOWLS IN ALL. (LATER THE BOWLS WILL BE PRESENTED TO THE NATIONAL SMITHSONIAN INSTITUTE, IN REMEMBRANCE OF THE GREAT DAY)

THE GRANDMOTHERS WILL FILL THE BOWLS WITH WHAT THE CHILDREN OF THE FUTURE WILL NEED SUCH AS:

*CLEAN WATER

*HERITAGE SEEDS FROM ALL CORNERS OF THE EARTH

*BEAUTIFUL FLOWERS

*INCENSE FROM ALL OVER THE WORLD

AT THE END OF THE CEREMONY THEY WILL AGAIN TURN FACING OUTWARD TOWARD A NEW PATH OF CONTINUING LIFE. THE LARGE BOWLS OF FLOWERS WILL BE TOSSED IN THE AIR SO
THAT THE CHILDREN MAY DANCE WITH FLOWERS PETALS AT THEIR FEET.

THE MUSIC CAN BE DRUMMING AND HARPS......

Saturday Goddess Blogging

Wow.

So today was the day when my wonderful, amazing, incredible circle of women got together for our annual retreat (aka, the day when we kick our own magical asses). It was wonderful, amazing, incredible. I can't imagine that I ever, in all the reincarnations that I may have had, have, ever, done anything to deserve to be in a circle with such amazing women. So, it's not deserved. It's a gift. It's, in the truest sense of the word, grace. It's a blessing from the Goddess, from the ancestors, from the Universe.

Each year, we choose a Goddess to work with. Today, we bid farewell to Hygeia (although I, along with some others, will continue to work with her individually) and welcomed in Lilith.

It's going to be a v. interesting year.

Kegel Blogging

Mid-month kegel blogging. Or, you could pee whenever you sneeze or laugh.

Trees

Things that make me smile.

My neighborhood has its own dead-tree sculpture: a mermaid that's about two stories high. She holds a bird aloft. Watching her come to life was quite an experience.

Summer Solstice

This week, I believe that I can state unequivocably, is my favorite week on the wheel of the year. This is the last week during which the days grown longer. Next week, we come to the Summer Solstice and, immediately thereafter, the days begin to grow shorter and shorter again, leading inexorably to the freezing dawn when I will stand with the wonderful women of my circle, bang pots, shake tamborines, yell, and generally make as much noise as possible to wake the Yule-time Sun. We drink schnappes or whiskey or some other throat-burning booze from glasses made of ice and then we throw the glasses on the frozen ground to shatter into a million diamond shards before heading off to a greasy-spoon on Capitol Hill or a pancake house in Arlington for a v. hearty breakfast.

But, for now, the sunlight pays the world the great compliment of lingering until almost nine o'clock in the evening, the flowers bloom, the grass grows, and the lightening bugs remind me, if I ever forget, that I live in an enchanted forest, full of mysteriously-blinking lights, leading me into shadowy and deep mysteries. The herb bed swells with herbs, the farmers' market bulges with riches from blueberries to tomatoes to cucumbers, the birds flit and float about, and, and, and, there's lots and lots of daylight!!!!

This weekend, my amazing circle of witchy women will hold our annual retreat (aka, the day when we kick our own magical asses) and, next Wednesday, my v. creative circle sister K. will lead us in our Summer Solstice ritual. By Thursday morning, I guaran-damn-tee that I will be magicked out. And, happy. And, a bit sad. I know that I should be equally happy to see the beginning of Fall and Winter, and, yet, I cannot help but to rage, rage (a bit) against the dying of the light.

Happy Summer. Happy sunlight. Happy long days of summer. Enjoy. It's everthing. It's all real. It's all metaphor. There's always more.

Air

Water

Nancy Drew: Girl Detective

I don't know about you, but I remember my first Nancy Drew mystery as if it were yesterday. I was seven. My best friend, Bonnie Ayers, and I were playing in her big sister's bedroom and I pulled The Mystery at Lilac Inn off the shelf and started reading. A half an hour later, I came up for air, went home, and made my mom drive me to the library.

This movie may be cute as all get out, but it's not about Nancy Drew. Nancy Drew was old enough to drive a "roadster". She had a tomboy friend named George. She gave instructions to the Drews' housekeeper. She was independent and smart and brave and someone I'd have died to become when I was seven.

I've read a lot of books since that afternoon in Bonnie's big sister's bedroom. I'm not sure that any of them have reached out and grabbed me and transported me as effectively. I'll probably skip this movie.

My New Name For A Blog

What Twisty Said. No, really, What Twisy Said

Retro

The Dark Moon is tomorrow and Mercury goes retrograde on Friday. You might want to conclude your important business/travel plans/financial contracts, oh, say, tomorrow morning.

Sweet Mother of the Gods. Please. Kill. Me. Now

New watch, huh?

Fire

Earth

Many Happy Returns, Mr. Yeats.

Happy birthday, William Butler Yeats
Wiki says that: Recalling his childhood, he described his "one unshakable belief" as "whatever of philosophy has been made poetry is alone permanent... I thought... that if a powerful and benevolent spirit has shaped the destiny of this world, we can better discover that destiny from the words that have gathered up the heart's desire of the world."

Wiki also reminds us that: Yeats was admitted into the "Golden Dawn" in March 1890, taking the magical motto Daemon est Deus inversus translated as Devil is God inverted or A demon is a god reflected. He was an active recruiter for the Golden Dawn's Isis-Urania temple, and brought in his uncle George Pollexfen, Maud Gonne, and Florence Farr. He became involved in the Order's power-struggles both with Farr on one hand, and with Macgregor Mathers on the other, most notably when Mathers sent Aleister Crowley to repossess Golden Dawn paraphernalia in "the Battle of Blythe Road". After the Golden Dawn ceased to be and splintered into various offshoots, he remained with the Stella Matutina until 1921.

I love his poem, "Unworthy Praise":

O HEART, be at peace, because
Nor knave nor dolt can break
What’s not for their applause,
Being for a woman’s sake.
Enough if the work has seemed,
So did she your strength renew,
A dream that a lion had dreamed
Till the wilderness cried aloud,
A secret between you two,
Between the proud and the proud.
What, still you would have their praise!
But here’s a haughtier text,
The labyrinth of her days
That her own strangeness perplexed;
And how what her dreaming gave
Earned slander, ingratitude,
From self-same dolt and knave;
Aye, and worse wrong than these.
Yet she, singing upon her road,
Half lion, half child, is at peace.

And, one has to love a man who loved a woman named Maud, one of my all-time favorite names, and her a revolutionary, besides. With a daughter named Iseulet.

Going Forth By Day

Reading Necropolis Now, which is fast becoming the most talked-about blog in Pagandom, I came across this snippet:

The Book of Going Forth By Day (a.k.a. The Egyptian Book of the Dead). I

I did not know that. I did not know that the Egyptian Book of the Dead was also knows as the Book of Going Forth by Day. But I love that. I love the idea that that's what death is or can be. (Were the Tibetans and the Egyptians the only ones to write Books of the Dead? If so, why is that? I was raised xian and I can't remember any instruction at all on how to conduct myself once dead nor upon what to expect.)

Wicca honors both death and life, both the dark and the light, both the winter and the summer. That's why my compost heap is as important a center of my religious practice as is my altar.

You should check out Necropolis Now's posts on decorative skulls, as well.

Air

Water

My Kind Of Witches

My New Name For A Blog

What Dan Mcenroe Said.

The excerpted poem of WH Auden’s that he quotes:

All I have is a voice
To undo the folded lie,
The romantic lie in the brain
Of the sensual man-in-the-street
And the lie of Authority
Whose buildings grope the sky:
There is no such thing as the State
And no one exists alone;
Hunger allows no choice
To the citizen or the police;
We must love one another or die.

Defenseless under the night
Our world in stupor lies;
Yet, dotted everywhere,
Ironic points of light
Flash out wherever the Just
Exchange their messages:
May I, composed like them
Of Eros and of dust,
Beleaguered by the same
Negation and despair,
Show an affirming flame.

reminds me of one of my favorite folk songs by Shwana Carrol called "I Can Be Peace." She's no Auden, but the message of her song -- that in the face of all the horror of war and insanity, the one thing that each of us can do is to work to embody peace, to manifest and create peace in our own lives and for those around us -- makes the same point Auden makes when he prays to "show an affirming flame." I sometimes sing the song to myself when I let the asshole in the Jaguar cut in front of me during rush hour. Really. I do.

~Art found here.

At The Very Least, This Trend Opens Up Lots Of Great New Names For Cars

From today's EEI newsletter:

Plug-in Hybrids, Electric Vehicles Gaining in Popularity

Soaring gasoline prices have spurred enthusiasm for plug-in hybrid electric vehicles (PHEVs), and a new all-electric import from China is selling well, Chicago Tribune Automotive columnist Jon Hilkevitch reported. The Xebra-PK (pronounced "Zebra"), is offered by U.S. firm ZAP, or Zero Air Pollution. At a cost of about $10,000, an estimated 250 have been sold since last October. Wrote Hilkevitch: "The ZAP line is considered a neighborhood electric vehicle, marketed as a second car to travel short distances pollution-free and gas-free."

The columnist noted that GM has developed a plug-in hybrid concept car, the five-passenger Chevrolet Volt, and the market also features the ZENN (Zero Emission No Noise) and Dynasty, both made in Canada, along with the U.S.-made Tiger Truck, and the Kurrent, produced by American Electric Vehicle.

Al Hallaj, a research associate professor of chemical engineering at the Illinois Institute of Technology, was quoted as saying: "Electric cars are no longer just a novelty for hobbyists or tree-huggers. Oil consumption is a national security issue and we should move to electric-based transportation, as well as improving wind, solar and hydrogen fuel cell energy."
Chicago Tribune , June 11.

Imagine. A Goddess Church.

Medusa Coils has a great post up about Goddess temples. I'm not sure that I'd like to attend one regularly, but I like the idea of there being Goddess temples.

And, Of Course, Then There Are The McMansions

From Today's EEI Newsletter:

Star-Tribune Examines How Many Homes are Increasing Energy Hogs

The Minneapolis Star-Tribune examined how the average U.S. household, while attuned to energy efficiency, is less energy efficient, and more of a power-drain on the electricity grid, than ever before. Wrote the newspaper: "Many household appliances have become more efficient, using less electricity than ever to cool rooms, wash clothes and chill food. But the increasingly wired American home, where outlets are charging cell phones and iPods and powering multiple computers and big-screen TVs, is creating higher demand for power than was the case even a few years ago. At last count, six of every 10 homes had a computer. In 1992, the number was one in five. Households that once had one TV now have two or three, some with screens four times as large as the typical television twenty years ago, and some requiring a lot of juice."

EEI spokesman Jim Owen was quoted as pointing out: "Plasma screens use eight to 10 times as much electricity as the TVs they replace." Wrote the Star-Tribune: "Owen … said utilities can count on office buildings and factories lowering electricity use in the summer because business owners don't want to pay higher costs. But residential users 'are less price-sensitive,' Owen said. In fact, hot weather tends to increase power demand from homeowners, as they pump up their air conditioning and stay home watching TV, playing video games or cruising the Web on their computers."

The newspaper said that the North American Electric Reliability Corp. has stated that the power grid is still susceptible to being affected by a wave of hot, humid weather. Wrote the Star-Tribune: "NERC officials said they are hoping to avoid a repeat of last summer, when extreme weather forced some utilities to issue emergency alerts and public pleas for people and businesses to use less power."
Minneapolis Star-Tribune , June 9.

My New Name For A Blog

What the Furious Spinner said.

The Importance Of Labels

I am a priestess. I work with the many layers of creation as I perceive it, with the gods and guides with whom I have a relationship, with those of the spirit world who would share and teach me. Essentially, my spirituality is entirely individual and exists outside any specific tradition or doctrine. It is the same with most people. Mystical spirituality exists beneath the level of community and the framework of religion.

Yet I am known to be a Druid. It is a label that I'm happy to give myself and be given, though it only describes the language, the robes, the colours and tools which I use when I work with others or in public. Wearing that label gives me the responsibility of holding an edge of the big white sheet which is the public reputation of Druidry, bringing with it the threat of politics and conformity, which is in itself a disincentive. If a I a priestess of my dogs and my grove, working my nemeton in private and in public, why do I use the word "Druid" at all? What does it give me?

Druidry holds within it an exceptional archetype, one which offers me just that inspiration of courage I need in order to express myself outwardly, to put my inspiration into action.

~Emma Restall Orr in Druid Priestess: An Intimate Journey Through The Pagan Year.

Sunday Akhmatova Blogging

In honor of the end of the Sopranos, which, whatever else you say about it, was actually that elusive thing -- good tv -- here's some tres depressing Akhmatova.

All Has Been Taken Away . . .

All has been taken away: strength and love.
My body, cast into an unloved city,
is not glad of the sun. I feel [that] my blood
has gone quite cold in me.

I'm baffled by the Muse's state of mind:
she looks at me and doesn't say a word,
and lays her head, in its dark wreath,
exhausted, on my breast.

And only conscience, more terribly each day
rages, demanding vast tribute.
For answer I hide my face in my hands . . .
but I have run out of tears and excuses.

~Sevastopol, 24 October 1916

Education Matters

I'll start off by admitting my bias: I am a huge believer in education, especially, but certainly not only, a liberal arts education. My great grandparents on my mother's side emigrated from Sweden to the United States; my great grandfather was a waiter. For immigrant families, education was both a tremendous part of the promise of America: free public education! It was also still, to some extent, out of reach. Thus, when times got tough and someone had to drop out of school and go to work, it was often the young women in the family who were pulled out of high school and sent to the mill, or factory, or to the hotel where maids were needed.

My maternal grandmother met that fate, leaving school to help support the family by making hotel beds while her brothers continued on through high school. I think that when my mother told me that story I was maybe five or six. It truly was one of my first intimations that I had landed on a planet with a patriarchial problem. As a little girl, all I could say was, "But that's not fair!"

My mom, orphaned at an early age, made it her goal to get through high school. The youngest of three sisters, she didn't have to quit school in order to support anyone else. As a result, she got an office job instead of a job at the hotel, the office job where she met my dad.

My dad actually had that elusive thing, a college degree. He was the first in his family of Western beet farmers and horse trainers to get a college degree, although his mother had gotten a few years at a ladies musical conservatory before she left to marry my horse-trainer granddad. My dad got that college degree as a gift from a grateful country; he like many other young men of his generation survived World War II to come home to the GI Bill. The GI Bill paid my dad's college tuition. He worked while he was in college, cooking breakfast in one of the women's dorms at the University of Colorado -- something he considered less than taxing, according to his stories.

If I ever got any message at all from my parents, it was: You Will Go To College. College was, in their minds, the key to being able to participate in the world of ideas and to living a better material life, a more worry-free life, than that enjoyed by waiters, hotel maids, and horse trainers. And, oldest child that I was, I absorbed the lesson, earning bachelors, masters, and law degrees. As a percentage of my income, I paid far more for Son's Montessori schooling than for his degree at Princeton, mostly because the Montessori paid dividends and Son got great scholarships and financial aid. He also took out some student loans and took out more when he went to law school.

All of which is a long wind up for saying that I think it is fucking criminal that kids today can't afford a college education without taking out huge private loans in addition to their student loans. We're the richest country on Earth. We can piss billions of dollars a month down the hole of the boyking's vanity war. We can absorb the externalities caused by millions of fools driving Hummers and SUVs and we can pay athletes millions of dollars a year. We can afford tax cuts for Paris Hilton. It is a crying fucking shame that we can't send our bright young people to college.