Tuesday, June 30, 2009

Remembering Michael Jackson

Michael Jackson goes back to 1969 for me. As we shared the same birthday, I was always fantasizing about him and others from Tiger Beat magazine. Michael had two looks to him. The first image of Michael I remember is the younger child version. He was such a beautiful singer, like an Irish tenor, hitting the high notes like no other bloke. He had the best moves, and could really bring true feeling to his songs. When he was with the Jackson Five, Michael was immediately recognizable, being the baby, I immediately identified, being the baby of the family. The Jackson Five were so Motown, and Motown was not far from where I lived. I felt like I could visit Michael at his residence, that he would be a good friend. I found Michael very young in appearance. I know all boys my age were always so young and immature, they took longer than grade eight to mature, maybe past highschool to develop into men.

The 60's were all about tv. After having a long crush on Jack London from Oliver (and Mark Lester, although I thought he was too young, they had such boyish charm. It took some time for them to turn into men, but when they did they would be knockouts. I felt like I could wait. These Teen Beat boys were so cute, but I wanted to be their friend mainly, if I should meet them. I would play their records nonstop on my phonograph in my pink room, along with my favourite song I kept playing over and over again until it developed a rooted skip, Spirit in the Sky, by Goldberg.

Yes, of course there were times I dreamed about one day marrying Michael when I looked up his 60's posters, and my Virgo poster, and other Flower Power pictures of that time.Michael reminded me of a neighbour boy who lived across the court were I lived in Toronto. I could fantasize, that was ok, Michael was my man!

Certainly I must have dreamt about marrying every Teen Beat heart-throb, or singer. I loved music. I would sing for hours in my room, to the many records I would purchase or find in my sister's room. It was the right thing to do, to sing, dance, it was normal for every teenage girl to swoon over her throb of the week. Oh yes, I guess I did have a crush on Bobby Sherman and David Cassidy (The Partridge Family). He was Shirley and Jack Jones' son. Jack Jones' was an amazing singer too, sad he died of cancer.

Recently, I felt that Michael had cancer, at least he looked that way. For sure, he was way too thin, emaciated pale face wasting away to 125 lbs. I weighed that in Grade 13 at my skinniest! Not sure how tall Michael was, but he looked to be about 5-10"? Still underweight. There was word that he suffered from anorexia, maybe brought about by what I heard later to be from a tragic childhood, full of abuse. Now I hear that children who suffer abuse often get cancer. The immune system cannot handle the emotional scars. Somehow I feel this was Michael's fate, the thing that killed him. Worry could have done this. It could have been a self-fufilling prophesy, he set up his own "house of cards" because he never adequately dealt with the pain of his past. And it definitely haunted him.

If only I could have helped him, saved himself. It was the from the way he was thinking. Thinking from pain instead of love. He would have been somewhat emotionally cut off from his authentic self. He had this deadly residual pain. Understanding this, I realized Michael was not getting the help he needed. It was all too much for him, and I believe, he unknowingly and slowly, subconsciously killing himself.

Now I find out that my dear Mark Lester (Oliver) were old friends of the Jacksons. It doesnt surprise me, the entertainment family is fairly insular and contained. I was shocked to hear Mark Lester say that Michael never did drugs, did say he hated them. It seemed that he may have died from an drug overdose. Michael's life was not tragic in the 60's. He looked so happy, singing and dancing with his brothers The Jackson Five.

I always sang to the music of Michael Jackson, and had this new hip music to listen to, and I really liked it. It made ne want to dance. It made me feel very happy.
Michael was famous then, but not to the same extent when he died. I was writing a shortstory on the Elvis Festival and mentioned the day the music died. And then I go onto Twitter and find out, Michael was rushed to the hospital with a possible heart attack. He was way too young to die.

Listening today to my Michael Jackson CD Dangerous (I love it) and Bad today I hear some premontion in his songs, like he knew he was dying. Definitely something was odd about his nose, like he had a prosthetic nose, maybe from skin cancer? It could be. Keeping his sickness and approaching death quiet would be the best PR and it was a sad thing to watch because I secretly knew he was vulnerable, and perhaps dying a slow death. Who wants to hear of a dying rock star, it is not sexy, not romantic at all. I know he silently suffered. Yet his heart was so big for the kids. He was terribly misunderstood. He created a veil of confusion about the real Michael. Was it Michael or the Masks he liked to or had to hide behind. It was just two days ago I heard Michael was suffering from lupus.

Lupus. Yes, that certainly would kill him. It would also make him innocent from the accusastions. Pills for lupus often create a problem in the erectile department as in dysfunction. So who is trying to zoom whom? It is obvious to me the claimants were just in it for the money. Michael had no protection it seemed to me. He, like the circus-freakish things he liked became the freak. He seem to wallow in his 'freakhood" That's ok. That's original, he's Michael Jackson, our Michael Jackson. Rest In Peace Dear Michael, you are an Angel today as you were in life. Namaste my friend!

Gertrude Stein and Quotable Author Quotes (follow as I see fit or have a fit, whichever comes first)

Gertrude Stein: "We are always the same Age Inside".

"A rose is a rose is a rose" G.S.

The Afflicted

"You're son is 'autistic' Ms Smith. the elderly white-haired doctor reported with an austere inflection. Looking back at the elderly doctor the young Ms Smith could not believe her ears. "Excuse me, doctor, did you say my son is 'artistic'? Ms Smith smiled, hoping to get the doctor to do the same, which he did not. The doctor said nothing. Ms Smith was taken aback, and was beginning to get confused about her son's diagnosis. As the sublime doctor with the thick Alfred Hitchcock accent rushed Ms Smith and hurriedly lifted the weighty toddler from the examining table to go to the next table for further tests.

Ms Smith's jaw dropped as she was amazed by the doctor's impudent treatment of her and the way he so non-chalantly gave her the diagnosis. Mainly it was the doctor's seeming disregard for Ms Smith. She could feel a cold chill in the room. Like a living nightmare everything in the room warped from sunshine to emptiness. Suddenly, the doctor's room began to spin in a slow circle with her pounding heart. Threatening images began to take upon a nightmarish quality. The doctor reminding her of Mr. Hyde with long, cold, pale hands with deadly nails that maimed. Around her the freakish room became the feeling of a morgue or funeral parlor. "I've got to get out of her" Ms Smith said breathlessly weak. She grabbed her two year old and told her husband "I'm leaving". The door slammed suddenly behind her.

In the process of examining the child, the doctor's long nails had cut into Ms Smith's flesh. This morning's doctor's visit had been more like a bad B horror movie than a reality she could grasp. No, no, not, at this time, fate. Her hand where she had been holding her son on the examining table was scratched raw by the doctor. His hands were so unusual, a cold blueish tone, with six inch nails. He reminded her of a formeldahyde smelling doctor, who lived in the lab for too many hours. "How could he be so cold? What is it about doctor's lately anyway? Are they all without human feelings, no compassion to share with their patients?" Ms Smith thought to herself. "Everything about him seemed so unreal, like he was lifted from a Hollywood set, portraying a role, not a real person at all. Is this the art of science today? They left one thing out; The Art. There was no Art to the doctor's treatment of her son or herself. Her husband, disabled from youth, had known these feelings. They were becoming all too new to Ms Smith.

As Ms Smith sat gathered her thoughts, things were not normal, or at least things were not progressing along a smooth unobstacled path. As Ms Smith examined her life, she recalled that things had not at all followed a regular path, there were bits and pieces missing, large chunks gone where there should have been a completed painting. Looking back at her recent past, Ms Smith could recount the haunting words given to her by a doctor a couple of years ago.

Upon finding herself pregnant, in her early twenties, her boyfriend recently dumping her like yesterday's garbage once the news of her pregnancy surfaced, Ms Smith needed a well-baby physical. She wanted to take care of the baby, even though she knew she would have no support from her ex. She could handle that, there were other single mothers back then, it was not unusual, maybe one day she would find the true love she needed to survive in a world of seemingly hate.

Ms Smith knew how psychologically damaging it was to be with a man who would not going to ever settle down. A man who was an incessant womanizer. Why did she always fall for the "wrong type" or were there nothing but "wrong types" for her? She felt she was never going to be good enough to kiss the ground men walked upon, so why take up that burden at all? As much as she wanted to, she could not change his attitude towards her. She did challenge him, and was met with him turning further away from her. After finally pleading with her ex to "just listen" to her cause, he then would not return her phone calls. To Ms Smith it was as if she was dead to him.

He wanted his freedom; the world was his oyster, she meant nothing to her. It was true, she had been a summer fling, a joy ride, a johnny come lately special. Ms Smith did not know the shallowness of his feelings, she thought that he really loved her, as she had thought her other two previous boyfriends had loved her. Was she too easy? Was she too loving? Too clutchy? Why would they use her and then throw her away when they appeared so interested in her wellbeing at the time. "How fickle men are; I would like to say something else, but I am, and always will be, a lady. Maybe I am a lady who was fooled into loving a man for all the wrong reasons. Maybe I am a lady who loved too soon, too deeply or maybe I am a lady who has been manipulated in some way, to shatter my core, to totally destroy me, but why? Who would ever do that to someone? Is there something more sinister going on under the surface? Ms Smith was asking all the right questions this time.

"How can people be so cold, so heartless?"Ms Smith cried for endless days, her heart broken, her dreams shattered. After numerous attempts to contact her old boyfriend failed, Ms Smith knew she was on her own and was horribly confused. Like all the other women in her shoes, whose turncoat men were very loving at first, and then turned distant upon the news of becoming a father.

Ms Smith's one visit to the doctor's clinic in the small laconic village would seal her fate. Nothing ominious gave Ms Smith the feeling that she should not enter the office. However, this one visit would change her life forever. Nervous, and concerned about her future, the twenty-something Ms Smith entered the clinic.

The young woman doctor from another land far away had seemed like a soul sister. She had all the supposed attributes for such a position. She was smart, intelligent, pretty and young. Ms Smith felt assured in confiding in her, discussing her innermost feelings and recent fall from grace. Ms Smith did not know how to have a powerful conversation especially the dismal repeating never-ending story of chronic rejection by males.

After her initial examination, the doctor looked down at the ground; "Why would you want babies, especially boys, you don't want them to be sick all the time, do you?" Ms Smith horribly confused asked the doctor what she meant by this; was she genetically diseased? What would give the doctor the right to tell her that her future baby would be harmed in any way whatsoever?. The doctor, at this point, refused to elaborate, and left the room.

Haunted by this suppressed this memory of that doctor visit years ago, Ms Smith was beginning to connect the dots. Obviously the doctor, a woman, was just saying that maybe it was a better thing that she not have children; ever. That it would be a better thing not to be a single mother, that no man would ever love her, that she would die alone. Ms Smith felt defrocked of all known power she had ever thought she had owned. She felt, to put it mildly, powerless. Or was her personal power just an illusion, that really, the powers that be, would predetermine that role long ago?

Since the doctor would had refused to discuss anything further with Ms Smith she never returned for follow-up. However, the nagging and lingering doubt about doctors, and basically all people of position, people of influence, people of power came into sharp focus in Ms Smith's mind. If she were a pawn or not, she definitely was assuming that role handed to her. In her mind, Ms Smith could not be anything but perfect, someone who had it all, had all the smarts, the looks, the youth in her bag, she was in a place of power. Not any more,

Now those who wield so powerfully so, who can determine such life and death evidents, whether they be progonosticators, doctors, lawyers or Indian Chiefs, it made no difference. Ms Smith was about to unravel that secret map, that "behind the scenes" sketch of power-dynamics of the power-mongers. How does it all work? Who holds the keys, the sway, who is the truly the gate-keeper? Who is the real power behind the throne? As Ms Smith questioned the very authority she had trusted for years all around her became more focused and refined with one purpose in mind; to find the truth, to find out what happened to her, is it happening to other single mothers, other women of means or no means. She wanted answers, little did Ms Smith know where those answers were to be found.

"I am going to get to the truth I am going to find that truth!" Ms Smith made a solemn vow to herself. What was really going on in her life? Who was controlling her life to the point that all her so called "loving boyfriends" dumped her, left her bagless, out in the cold to die? What organization or men's club could allow this to happen to a fellow human being? Was it the Mason's, The Rotary Club, the Knights of Columbus? Who could destroy a beautiful life in this way? For what purpose. It was too untowards, not normal, did not follow a regular pattern, no logic. There had to be something else going on under the surface. Ms Smith thought a power club, a secret club, whose mission is to destroy the real power of women. A way to claw back the Family Compact, or part of the Family Compact? All these questions; where would the answers be found.

"Knock, knock, Avon calling!" Ms Smith felt assured, selling door to door this time

Jane Jones 29 Jun 09.

Monday, June 29, 2009

Form Follows Function: The Applecart Before the Horse?

Dear Bruce: As composites go; the apples in the cart, even the cart will eventually become recomposed in the composter. The upset "action"? The Applecart - An Opus in One Recycled Act or An Overturned and Upset Overture. It is how these things work themselves out; even if they are only just "things" they are our things. As Function will always open the door to such fine Form but form will always insist he go first. Jajo--- In mikeswritingworkshop@yahoogroups.com, "Bruce Hamilton" wrote:

Hot Hot Hot Not Not Not

Whatever mood hits you
you're just hot and sweaty
the sweat surrounds you
you want to feel light
but the heat holds you down
you might like this feeling
unless it gets you down
and then you're just hot
and then you get so hot
you get these sick hot/cold chills
and you back feels wet
and you feel the tightness of clothes
and you want to feel light again
but you are held down with the heaviness
of it all
when you're hot
it is usually not the greatest feeling
when you are just hot and melting
the earlier moment in time
removed and the moment takes over
and you are commanded by the moment
and lost all personal intregrity
and lost all personal power
and lost all personal meaning
when the small blue flower meant something
is gone
what is left is the immediateness
of drip, sweat stink

not a very wonderful a feeling
how to feel good when you
feel hot
but you're not

Thursday, June 25, 2009

ELVIS IS...Our Rock N Roll Dream Machine Get On Board This July 09 Collingwood Ont SAY YES TO ELVIS


We are all Elvis, well Elvis' collective dream that keeps playing on an on in cosmic skip on that 45 rpm record "You Aint Nothin' But A Hound Dog". So if we can be a hound dog, we can easily be Elvis! Elvis allowed us all to dream - BIG!!!

Yes, it is, indeed, that time of year again! When all things turn Elvis. When all thoughts about the town are submerged for a time and the Elvis emerges ever so bright the star Elvis returns to replay the 50's in living technicolor!

Elvis in importance to all that "is" becomes our King, the King of Rock N' Roll fame, fortune, record deals, producers, directors, hopes, dreams, charity, winning a really, really big lottery. As Elvis, we all realize it is the Elvis raison d'etre. For those of us born outside the nascent birthing of Rock n' Roll it is difficult to conceive what this man really meant to the music industry. Elvis, undisputedly, and irreverently could be free to express his inner gyrations, of unknown vibe-ology, taking us to a higher plain of consciousness. Elvis made us believe anything was possible. We could go to the moon with Elvis, visit Jupiter, talk with the little green men on Mars and then continue onward past the galaxies.

The endless highway Elvis formed, the Rock N' Roll highway, forever encapsulated like a time machine, like we stepped Back To The Future time warp. A warp that seemed so less warped than the warp of now. The 50's were life like it was suppose to be lived, where the Leave It To Beaver and Father Knows Best really made sense. Elvis loved me and I loved Elvis, I will always love Elvis. Right now, right here, I confess my eternal love for Elvis. He is in my forever heart of tomorrow, because yesterday, he was there, and will always be there. Elvis imprinted my conscious as much as anything else in this green earth, this green, Green Grass Of Home - Collingwood!

Elvis in his black leather, is a pink ladies' dream come true, many times over. Elvis looking demure in his rebellious ways, as a sultry James Dean from Rebel Without A Cause certainly made me swoon. It was the look, and we wanted to own it. It became a badge of merit, a badge of "I can have this attitude and I can be bad and good at the same time. Dimorphic! Brilliant! We want Elvis in his country boy honest way, the forever blues, it is ok to be Blue with Elvis, especially in Hawaii, another tripl to be won. And I just know who I am going to take, my own home-made version of Elvis, created like a ship in the night, stealing away to passionate places and dreams, oh, the dreams!

It is so much more than ok that I took up Elvis as a cause. With his talent I will go far, and I promise, I will take you all with me, as I become wholly taken by the mood of Elvis. That scent can be purchased for 5.99 at the kiosk. Yes, WWED, What Would Elvis Do? Oh, I know what Elvis Would Do, do I really have to tell you? He'd do it right, babe, oh, yes, he would, do it so, right!

Elvis has other than mortal status? Unlikely. How could a man know this? that he would be afixed forever to a bright shining star? We have all taken upon ourselves the Elvis Cause Celeb or Elvis Raison D'Etre, the Reason to be - Elvis. The Causal Elvis is an experience you can only achieve at this time of year at this particular place where all things Elvis magic take hold in supernatural expression, a tour de force of music, song, dance, drama. And you are here. As Elvis, As and Elvis imbider, you are here, in Collingwood Ontario July 2009!

When and where did we become so afixed to the Elvis star? all Elvis' many hopes, dreams and wishes make us dream big. Bigger than Big, The Elvis personae being a classic, iconic and continual, the Elvis image is Bigger than Life. Elvis did so much good with his powers of goodwill to charities, to the music industry, to people who so freely shared his down to earth personality. He was all that, and then some. So as Elvis continues to shine the light of his music within each and everyone of us we come aware of our own creative talents and potential. We do become Elvis, we feel our hips move to his beat, to his gyrations, to his belief that Rock n' Roll is not only good, it is healthy, better than the Hawaiian chair, Rock n' Roll will never die!

As we get closer to that waxing Elvis time, when we grease back our hair, struggle to get into those too-tight jeans, we all take on an Elvis-lurking hue. We become the spotted Elvi' when we swing our hips, dancing on the streets of Collingwood all night long, or thereabouts. Wherever there are hidden these Elvis sprites, playing hide and go seek, all Elvis weekend long, we party hardy like Elvis knew how to do so well. And if you are caught by our team of Elvis reporters yelling out loud with the certain declaration "There's one!" or "I found another Elvis" You, too, have officially made an Elvis siting! And remember; to take a picture, it will last longer!

Just around the corner, this July 09, the annual hype for the hoped for siting, or better yet, Elvis sittings. Where can you get the chance to sit on Elvis' lap without reprisals or even worry that you must wed Elvis afterwards in Vegas? In Vegas you are forced to marry him, or at least a reasonable facsimile. What happens at the Elvis Festival in Collingwood Ontario thankful stays in Collingwood Ontario, without any residual hungover musings over a license stamped with the Colonel's John Henry's authenticity.

Yes Elvis! brings back the Elvis of our collective dreams and of my old ex, Elvis. Unfortunately, everyone claims Elvis as their own, and he is everyones boyfriend. How can this girl compete with all those starstruck ingenues waiting for their chance to be plucked from the crowd and lifted up to immortalized Hollywood in Collingwood star status? I am not asking for the world, I just want to be a star for one day. What do I have to do? I am afraid fifteen minutes of fame just is not long enough! A day would be good. So who will take home that covetted prix de jour? Elvis' Muse? Elvis' backup? Or whoever can channel the man to the point of completing the transition between the worlds of here and there? That prix de jour is priceless and may last much longer than merely a day of glory. We want to continue the Elvis Festival all year long; we want to bring back forever, bobby socks, pink jackets, cadillacs, pompadours, rubyred lipstick, poodle skirts, basically all things Elvis. Elvis' music? We want continual year-long loop, in other words, we want to go "all the way" with Elvis.

In our very friendly town of Collingwood, we are not immune to the power of the Kings' mighty sway. It is everywhere, something, somewhere, someday will make the memory field recall the TUPELO licence plate, the blue suede shoes sold at the local department store, Zellers or Walmart. We wait, like children waiting for Santa at Christmas, for the first string of Elvis lights to go up on the Elvis tree. We merge out of our cocoons hungry for more Elvis. The man, the music and the mechandise. The art form of Elvis impersonation is much more than simply slapping on a couple of fake sideburn choppers. We luxuriate in the possibility in becoming Elvis, or if not, one of his closest's entourage, maybe even, if we are lucky and feeling especially pretty, we become Wife of Elvis. Sorry Priscilla, but he is mine now. Although I do think the Bride of Elvis sounds a tad B movie-ish, I'd rather be Anne Margaret, no offence, it just that she really had the best of both worlds; her own career and Elvis' attention. Not bad for a skinny, redhaired Irish hotty!

No one can take back my man Elvis. He was the first and hopefully, the last. Maybe I could have his image plastered on my walls, poster art. Elvis on my night table, Elvis in my bathroom, Elvis, here, Elvis there, Elvis, Elvis EVERYWHERE!!! I say yes to Elvis, all the time. He must be worn out by now, if indeed these channelling feelings go anywhere at all. Yes, to Elvis as Elvis holds a special place on the plated templates of all things 50's. I own Elvis. Well I own Elvis' likeness. Which, to me, is a lot like having "a piece of him". I could eat Elvis gingerbread cookies all day long, it is better than an all day sucker, and look, mah, no cavities. Just be wary of the Gold Rush sandwiches, that's how Elvis died you know. Like Houdini's demise with a unprotected punch to the abdomen, Elvis was not aware that blockage is not always something to ignore. I miss Elvis, and there is this thought in my head; no he did not die, as I see, and hear him everywhere; especially, here in my heart!

It was no coincidence that I should meet an old boyfriend the day Elvis died. Why he looked just like Elvis, He had the Elvis magic thing happening. Well sort of, he pursued me like the hunted Priscilla. Maybe he wasn't Elvis, but I needed to make him Elvis, because in my mind, and many peoples' mind, Elvis never died. So endless Elvis, like endless love, like endless summer ad infinitum, and I am alright! Yes, I am!

My vision being somewhat elongated from farsightedness and foggy from the July morning heat fog on that July day 1977. Really it was for me, the day the music died, again. Recalling Elvis' fellow RocknRollers, Buddy Holly, The Big Bopper and that cute Mexican singer Richie Valens that sung so sweetly, hey I recall... when the corn grew high past dear Jumbo's huge Elephant's eye and the smell of the Circus coming to town!

Elvis I shall always claim as my own. He is mine! Although I only lived for a few years in the 50's I remember those picnic'd years of merge on all things Elvis. For months, we ponder the presence of the King, we consider what possible can I offer this great man of the swaying hips, pursed lips, hair flips and blue sueded shoes. What teddy bear do I have that could compare to the man himself? How could I emmulate this amazing Rock-a-Billy hipcat the orginator of all things Rock n' Roll. If I were a secret camera in Elvis' life, would he have noticed me? Wait-A-Minute! Elvis and I dated in the 80's. At least at thought he was Elvis! He had all Elvis' features, especially the hair, and the hips. He sure did like to use those hips!

If I fantasize about Elvis it is only because I am allowed to fantasize about Elvis. In fact, I am encourage so to do by my town, I have this right, so do you. So come on down and let your Elvis fantasies go to town. I'll be there, I may even sing a couple of Elvis tunes. You may even win the next Cadillac off the new MOTOWN assembly! It could be that pink Tahiti Treat colour you begin to remember from those crazy lazy summer days in the ever-lovin' fifties!


Escape From Reddickville

"Oh my gosh, I've got to get out of here! I can't stand it a minute longer, it is too hot!" Mabel yelled at the top of her lungs to her husband Stan. "Oh Mabel, cut the crap, it's just yer menopausal moment again! You're having a hot flash". "Stanley! You'd think I was stamped looney tune long ago! Don't you dare call me crazy! Don't you love me anymore?Don't you care? Mabel started to cry inconsolably. "Stanley, dont you think I know what is happening to me?"

Stanley smirked and rolled his eyes, and looked at Mabel; "Do I have to answer that?" Stanley inquired "Answer what?" Mabel questioned her husband of 40 odd years, mainly odd years. "You know Stanley, ever since I got married to you, you have been ignoring me, haven't you got anything better to do than to ignore me?". Stanley saw an opening for the next one liner: "Mabel, what could be better than ignoring you?". Mabel grinned a big cheshire grin, "Ah-hah! I got you Stanley! I caught you! You are ingnoring me!" Stanley again appeared to have swallowed the canary; "Indeed you did catch me Mabel, indeed you did!"

Mabel frowned a big childish frown, "Stanley, you're not being fair, I didn't catch you, you caught me, remember? Stanley gave a sheepish sideway grin and scanned the floor to the ceiling with his bifocals catching Mabel's image of a middle aged woman with hands on her hips, looking stern. Mabel could have a rolling pin in her hand, she meant business. Stan thought he should try to tame the shrew; "You're absolutely right Mabel, your absolutely right, I remember now! I caught you as you fell from the auditorium stage. You fell straight into my lap. No wonder I never could have kids!" Mabel looked at Stanley with a bitter look "What do you mean you could never have kids? You had twelve of them!" Why Mr. Stanley Smith, that's not how it happened at all, why do you keep turning things around to make me look like I was doing all the chasing?"

Stanley could not wait to explain; "Look Mabel, if I seem to have gotten the story wrong after all these years of telling the same story, over and over again, I am truly sorry, I must have had a memory lapse too! There is such thing as male menopause you know! Either that or I am embellishing the story to make it sound more interesting. From time to time I keep getting this nagging creative itch right here.." Stanley pointed to his back. Mabel jumped in "If this is a way you have Stanley of getting me to scratch your back for free, I have another chore for you to do!" Stanley looked sheepishly at Mabel enthralled with the banter;"Yes, I do, I have all of a sudden got a creative itch." Mabel reply straight arrow; "You should get that fixed, Stan, you really should, I here there are places that will get that removed for you". Stan chimed in; "and what, not have the joy of having my Maybe scratch that itch for me?" Mabel eyes sparkled as she grinned seductively. "Oh Stanley, you big tease!"

Reddickville is a tiny, tiny town not far from Tiny Township, but far away enough past the lake, up the hill and beyond a bit. The hills of this beautiful region are a farmer's delight, acres and acres of rolling farms and meandering brooks. It made no sense that Mabel wanted to escape from Reddickville that day. Maybe it was her husband Stan's constant demands for her attention, always luring her into heated conversations so he could put back the fire in the once impassioned redhead, a formly farm girl who in her younger year look much like . It always started with innocent teasing, and then, the teasing lead to name calling, then heated argument. The heated argument would last for maybe, ten or fifteen minutes of trivial pursuit, and than the heat of the argument go the better of both of them. Then the two senior citizens would race upstairs as Stan caught Mabel at the doorway of the room and start kissing her passionately.

Free from their brood of children who have all gone on to lead their own lives, these two love birds engaged in the art of coy seduction, bringing back their long lost loving feeling. It was getting difficult for Stan and Mabel but their old bones could recall those times when they were young. It is amazing how automatically the body remembers these "night moves" thought Mabel. She luxuriated in her passionate moments with Stanley, and could, in her seventy or so year old skin, feel comfort, reinacting the past. Stanley felt it was his duty to do his duty to keep his wife forever young, with girlish giggles, and solvent kisses that would never, never die. He loved Mabel with all his heart and wanted her to be happy. He knew this was one way to make her happy and to keep the spring in her step and the whistle in her mouth as she went about her chores on the farm. "A morning without Mabel is like a day without sunshine" Stanley would tell his fishing buddies, friends he had known all his life. These fishin' buddies were really his old school chums, and they would get together each year, at one farm or other and camp out in the back forty for a few days, recalling good times, fishing the Nottawasaga.

Mabel knew exactly what to do without thinking about it. Being thus fearless of children barging through the double doors of the 150 year old farm home catching them in "the act", Stanley and Mabel were finally free to express the love they had repressed for so many years from so many children. Yes, there were some moments they had alone during the years, but mostly, since both were loud lovers, they could never really feel free to express their souls' desire. Now, being so far out in the country in that neverland called Reddickville, Stanley and Mabel could freely express any high pitch whirl or hoot deemed necessary for their listening pleasure only.

The would escape to the upper room of their farmhouse, a place known to them as "the firepit of passion" or shortened over the years to the "pit". Here Mabel and Stanley felt free to express their love to each other without inhibition, without the worry that children could sneak up and notice something going on. Stanley and Mabel had known each other since children, and they really knew each other as well as they knew the back of their own hand.

The upstairs hottub was pumped and primed and ready for the empty-nesters. "Ahhhh this feels nice, I think I am beginning to get rid of that itch after all dear" Mabel "dont you dare, wait for me!"

Soul Sisters

"How can the hunted know the hunter when the hunter or hunters are hidden in their lair by stealth and camoflage?" Kirsten Wilson asked her best friend Sandra Delano "Exactly, Kirsten, you cannot. That is why we must use the one thing we have left; the freedom of the press. All other freedoms have been taken away from us." Kirsten looked worn out, her eyes sunken, puffy from crying all night and anemic dark circles making her look haggard for a twenty year old. "The thing is, Sandra, I know exactly why I have been treated this way, there is no hiding that. These hunters cannot hide behind their pack of lies forever, eventually, the true shall prevail!" Sandra gave a long tired sigh, "Kirsten if I knew an easier way out, I would employ it, right now, going to the press is the only way. If we do not ever see justice, that is one thing, at least public opinion should sway in our favour once the truth is told. I cannot see how single mother's had been so obviously singled out for so long, having all these evil deeds done to them, without anyone noticing or caring." Sandra looked across the room and back and Kirsten, "You know friend, it has been a very long time. We have both been through so much. Through the bitter and the thin, you have stuck with me, like shit to a blanket! Come here!" Sandra opened her arms wide and Kirsten knew this was exactly the time Sandra called a "group hug". As silly as the hug was to them both, it did create a lasting bond. both Sandra and Kirsten never consciously knew they had shared such a deep relationship. Their mutual highs and lows in life seem to independently intertwine, and this was the time the friendship became stronger than it had ever been in the past. Today, without their knowing or realizing, and by some sort of cosmic design, an imprinted mandala of sacredness; the soul sister affinity becoming infinitely bound. Sandra and Kirsten finally realizing the score, and what they were up against, silently nodded to one another, a confirmation of knowingness and understanding the power that encircled their lives was much, much bigger than both of them.

Wednesday, June 24, 2009

Summer In Wick's Hollow

"Will it ever make any sense, Edwin? The way you see things and the way the world actually is?" Serena asked her sensitive boyfriend Edwin. "No, Serena, that is the way of the world and you just cannot change it, it will kill you to try." Serena wiped her eyes with her sleeve as she was throughly engrossed in the images coming from the tv screen". "Did she really have to die to become a martry for freedom?" Serena implored her boyfriend, "This woman is my age, she shouldn't have been killed, she didnt deserve this!"

Serena was getting obviously upset at the both the images on the screen and the way her boyfriend had so easily dismissed the images. "I cannot believe you, of all people, Ned, would so non-chalantly not challenge the status quo. I don't know about you, but I know that I just have to do something. I cannot sit idly by while women are being targetted like this in that country!" "Oh, come on, Serena!" Ned was beginning to feel offended by his girlfriend of four years, "you've got to be kidding! You think you can take on a sexist dictorial regime that has been active for over five thousand years?" Serena looked up at Ned and said "You're damn right, Ned". These are fightin' times, and maybe it is the Irish in me that has gotten up my ire, but I tell you now, I am going to do something about these poor women in THAT country!"

Ned looked back at Serena and rolled his eyes giving up the argument to the fiery redhead. 'Ok, Serena, if you can do something about it, if you really feel you can do anything about the plight of these women in that land so, so far away country, then you can go right ahead, become a martyr, but leave me out of it!" Serena gave a brief smile towards Ned and said "Thanks, Ned, you won't regret it!".

Wicks Hollow was a displaced town from the gold rush of the 1860's. Life had seemingly forgetten the dreams planted years ago by the pioneers. Close to the farming country, Wicks was considered Hicksville by most city slickers from the big city only an hours drive away.

The small-town feel of Wicks Hollow was evident in the two hundred year old General Store, the main street of buildings restored from the 1800's. This charming, sleepy town had a nostalgic feel to it, if you closed your eyes you could easily imagine the citizens wearing clothes from the 1800's.

The bedroom community of traditional Amish and Mennonites were supplying the dream-like western images of yesteryear. Bolts of cotton were being purchased at the dry goods store, peppermint sticks and blackballs were being purchased by little boys in black suits with no shoes while blinded horses were pulling buggy carriages for the weekly supply goods. Even Mennonites had to eat and clothe themselves in the little town as food was scare between winter and summer. Not all families could produce the needed material for winter-weight clothing requirements, pure cottons milled from Ireland or Scotland the preferred choice of the well-dressed yet somewhat dated attire of the antibaptist community.

A refreshing morning renewed all people's interest in all things lively. Young Matt Dooley ran boundfully past the row of Victoria houses to the bus stop by the park, stopping to smell the flowers. His soft black hair, softened from a night of sweet dreams and candy wishes. His eyes shining with inward love light his face a rosey blush. He met his friend Sarah Beth at the stop and gave her the tiger lily he had plucked from the ditch by the side of the road. Sarah Beth said thank-you to Matt, and being only ten, she felt a bit embarrassed. She said she would give the flower to her teacher, Mrs. Brown, her favourite teacher.

There were not too many days left of school, the children were all wispy with wishes and dreams of the perfect summer. The large yellow bus rolled up to the curb where the children were waiting. The bus driver gave a friendly good morning as the children boarded the bus. The last week of school and then summer holidays and freedom! Matt and Sarah Beth continued their frantically animated conversation while the pastoral scenery rushed past in rhythmic patterns and relaxed continuity of many yesterdays.

The fresh scented forests and wildflowers with their heady sagey-musk aroma awakened Mrs. Florence Chronoleigh. Florence opened the sashed windows of her parlour and walked about onto her backyard gazebo paradise. Her prize-winning rose garden, all pink and white masterpieces of rosary perfection, bloomed endless perfection after another.

Florence breathed in the newness of the day, her favourite time, and slowly sat her ample posterior into the comfortable cushion of the iron chair by the crisp Irish linen tableclothe. In a gilded cage, a small yellow canary singing delightfully for a sampling tidbit of Florence's cremed strawberry bisquit, at least the strawberry being much appreciated by the avarian afficiando. "Here, here, Percy, come to Mommy, I have a bit of strawberry for you!" Florence opened wide the golden bird cage, all filigreed like the bistro table. The little yellow bird alighted on her shoulder. "There, there, Percy, Mommy didn't forget about you!" Florence was making little bird noises and had just put the bird back in his cage. Florence sat down at the table again and began to open up the newspaper.

When Florence noticed the news caption on the front of the newspaper, she uttered "Oh, my god, no" and immediately swooned and then crashed to the ground. The ground had been designed by the local landscaper and was a very intricate interlocking paving stone of Italian marble.

The sound of Florence's head hitting so violently on the hard ground awakened Darren, Florence's her neice, sleeping upstairs above the scene. Darren had been visiting her Aunt Florence during her yearly sabbatical tenure at the University of Edinburgh. Darren was aghast to see all the blood pooled in a large puddle around Florence's head. Darren screamed "Call 911!". Percy's empty cage door remained open, and Percy was perched on the upper branches of the apple tree, far away from the madness that had sliced through the peaceful morning. Where Florence sat down to her morning coffee and cremed strawberries, the world of reality opened by the turning of the page, into something horrible, something which had caused Florence to become off-balanced to the point of fainting, falling and dying in the matter of three minutes. Darren did not notice the opened newspaper left on the white wrough iron bistro table, with the headlines; "Woman Nadia Spivak Killed by Revolutionary Guards in Freedom Protest" gently flapping in the light morning breeze.

Oblivious to the carnage in Wick's Hollow, the salty dead fish smells continued to evoke those ephemeral long lost days at the beach. These primordial smells were wafting in from the cross-breezes from the beach ten minutes away. These enlivinging scents were soon to become unnoticed by the women in town who had begun to form Free Nadia's Everywhere". Although life began to churn like butter made in Revivalists Camps of Everything Yesteryear, Serena knew things were different. The action noticed, which was wholly unseen and very unseemly by those refined by the way things ought to go. Nothing could stop these church women. It did not matter how the news travelled. Saints and Martyrs were here too. Whatever it took, even to stop this glorious summer earth, the women knew what to do. Today's earth's regenerative powers would be used to incite good, not evil, not callous barbary on other coasts. All connected we could no longer ignore the plight of the female freedom fighters. Worldwide and gaining as much momentum as the rotation of the earth. Women worldwide stood up against the tide of anti-female policy. It was the beginning of Gaia triumpant return to claim her long lost citizenry.

Wherever the panorama the entire earth was aglow in this fresh newness of being, it gave ninety year olds zest in their step and a reason to live another day. Earl Harrow had been but a boy in the summer of '27, yet he still recalled all, as if yesterday. It was this ennubriating sense that recharged the core battery Summer restored all the old dreams, the hopes and wishes since children of the way the world should be, if I were the architect of it all. No slight, no sad word could make this day any less exuberant any less purposeful in meaning. A zen day. A day that stood down all the other days with it's gloriousness and glimpse of what heaven would be like, if only, and if, things had not changed . The nostalgic town had awakened to the smell of coffee and bacon and eggs coming from Gerts corner cafe. The sweet danishes could be tasted on the breeze at Elwood Taylor once sleepy in this sleeping hollow community this morning to brand new possibilities. The larks were chirping gleefully, the summer sun a big yellow plasma ball in the sky shining glorious light all around, but not for all, all the time. There rthyhm of life as up and down as balls like to go the sun being a ball, switching back and forth from light to darkness, sadness to happiness, all polarities exerting their unseen forces upon the citizens of Wick's Hollow. c 24 Jun 2009 Jane Jones

Monday, June 22, 2009

Copyright Infringement Discussions

Dear Jesse: Thank-you for this information! Could you please tell me how one can register (and where) their writing, etc? Thank-you, Jane Jones...ps I hope there are international copyright laws to protect your story. There are statutes of limitations, which I believe, in Canada are 6 months. So you only have 6 months to take legal action or SOL. Well that's my two cents! Jane Jones---

Dear Karen: That copyright rabbit hole is looming ever larger! When we have to
dispense royalties to the 10th generation of progeny, I believe we have gone too
far. The farside cafe needn't be an unfriendly place, but a user-friendly place
where there is not impedement to the infringement potential seen in all known
knowledge a looming boogeyman with briefcase? Isn't copyright itself getting a
dose of its own medicine infringing upon itself? More than likely it will
collapse under the pressure of the huge hole! The backlog of torte laws would
consume the courts, devouring whole the hole that began it all! Jane Jones---
Dear Gayle: Did you receive compensation from the theif(or theives) who stole
your material? Did you prosecute the copyright infringers? Are there any ways to
stop this theft of intellectual property?

ps if anyone uses another's work on their websites is it a good idea to get 1.
permission from the originator of the work and 2. adequate reference to the
originator/creator of the work on the site (this applies to all written work and
visual imaging).

Maybe if there were more disclaimers on websites (to put the fear of copyright
into the minds of potential copyright infringers) we would then be free of
potential lawsuits and have a better understanding of what can and cannot be
copied (the old cut and paste). It is the ethics and laws involved in copyright
that need to be clearly understood by the majority of users. After all is
understood thusly we would then all sigh a collective sigh of relief. Thank-you
Gayle for bringing this issue to light, as I am sure many here are questioning
"should I, or shouldn't I reprint, reboot, retweet, rehurl, etc.". Maybe the
laws should be made more visible on the net and made popular via advertising
placement on popular sites. An idea? Jane Jones ps Gayle, may I reprint this
information? Please let me know!
Dear Michael Burstein: This article is very true to form; and an excellent
summary as to the many legal problems facing writers, artists, etc., on the net

If I wanted "exposure" I would go outside in my -70 degree Celcius Canadian
winter undressed and shivering and wait for two things to happen; neither of
these events are positive events, unfortunately, but that is exactly the same as
the treatment given to artists/writers and creators of all kinds on the net
today; Here is what will happen to me if I let this problem slide; either I

1. freeze to death or

2. get a deadly dose of impending pnemonia caused by the obvious ill-will rather
than the supposed goodwill created by the net administrator policy or non-policy
of artists/creators today. These nefarious powers that be "not for artists" or
creators of any kind. The malicious and callous "freeze out" of artist's rights
is not going unnoticed. Artists/writers/creators of all kinds are being
tragically compromised to the point of making artists etc., persons non-grata,
without any effectual legal rights whatsoever. So how did this dismantling of
the creative power be destroyed in this way by net policy?

It simply is this; there are no agencies to protect the mass interest of
artists/writers/creators on the net, no umbrella organization to protect all
creative endeavors, so the artists, etc. suffer the slight of being virtually
ignored, removed from the equation of all rights and priviledges.

The net administration policy smooth operations convincingly seduced artists to
accept the idea that "exposure" of their art will be tantemount to
success. The promise of exposure is therefore a hollow promise, offering of
crumbs to the artist, etc., who already have had enough of that menu.

Offering artists the supposed "benefit" of exposure could only work for those
non-professional artists, writers, etc., who do not mind being pushed into a
corner, but definitely not the corner office on 5th Avenue. Such trojan
horse-type offeringsby net administration only stokes the fires of the artists',
writers' etc.,discontent. Certainly an artists'/writers' revolt is long overdue;
but when, how?

The many artists/creators/orginators of protected and copyrighted material do
not fathom the depths of these slick power lords of the net.

It has taken a great deal of cold blue steel resolve by net administration to so
skilfully to stealthily slink undetected through the naive artists'/writers'
garden of net worthy art. This feigned gesture of goodwill by the net
administrators is laughable by those who are armed with the knowledge of true
copyright laws, which should allow the clause "all forms of media; electronic
ect" to hold any weight of merit and benefit to artists, etc. intrinsic rights.

The wholly nasty net administrators who do not want artists, etc looking behind
the screen at their dastardly deeds will stop at nothing to remove all rights of
potential income earners. Artists, etc., are being denied their rights, and it
is all due to faulty policy made by net administrators who do not want to give
the creators of said copyright their just desserts. Artists of all kinds deserve
better treatment!

Artists et al hardly notice the slight of hand, the magician's power wand
vanquishing and vanishing their power base. Most artists, etc today are
unknowing living with the potential damage being done to them. Is is not only
artists, but the artistic process as well which is under fire by net
administrator's lack of adequate copyright laws on the net.

Indeed the admins actions could eventually create the same snare set for the
artists. As work submitted will now be a lowly quality since no value is placed
upon the artists' intrinsic worth. The freedom to create is usurped by lack of
resources it takes to create and maintain the artist and their rightful

Yes, the bohemoth net is wholly unfair to the struggling artists/writers. The
net policy concerning copyright laws is woefully biased and one-sided.

Artists and writers need to be compensated adequately for their creative art and
should not be finagled by those who do not have the artists/writers best
interest at heart. Who will protect the best interests of the artists/writers
on the net? Any net heroes out there?

Jane Jones Canada

IRAN problems and Why...HOW to SOLVE

Dear Sic: Excellent points about "what's happening" in Iran. Politics being "politics" it is very easy to understand how the "Whack job Amhadinajad-a bing bong" got elected. We all know how politics work, it is "I'll scratch your back, you scratch mine" or more likely the case in Iran "I'll scratch your eyes out if you don't vote for Amhadinajad". So you get the story. People voted for Amhadinajad because they are forced by psychological force to vote for the PETTY DICTATOR who may not be so petty and might be working with the likes of NORTH KOREA. How do we know? AMHADINAJAD HATES AMERICANS AND ALL FREE DEMOCRATIC PEOPLE AS WELL AS ANYTHING THAT GETS IN HIS WAY OF THE TALIBAN/AL QAEDA MISSION. So if we are to help the TRULY BRAVE PEOPLE OF IRAN WHO ARE RISKING THEIR LIVES (AT THE VERY LEAST) THEN WE SHOULD SEND IN A UN PEACE GROUP. The only way to dispose of this dictator is to do the old "Jackal Act". I really hate to think this is the ONLY way, but YES IT IS. (Oh yah, get that dingdong THINKS he is god KOMENI TIMES DO I HAVE TO TELL YOU...) FREE THE PEOPLE OF IRAN...upset their poison apple cart! NEXT WE TAKE NORTH KOREA...ty very much...:) JANE JONES --- In room2awards@yahoogroups.com, "sic_semper_tyranusxx" wrote:
> It seems that Amhadinajad (Whack-job) did win the election, all the polls confirmed it, and there is no outcry from election watchers in general about fraud. If there was fraud, it may be that it was to inflate the victory margin, and not to deliver an already assured victory.
> Iran was always the second best democracy in the Islamic Middle East. In the areas that the clerics left to the secular authorities everything was pretty above board, with respected democratic institutions. The problem was the clerics had/have such broad discretion to clamp down on society.
> What will happen if a revolt or coup occurs in a situation where the majority voted for the guy deposed. It is true that many who support Whack-job also want reforms, but will they sit still if his blood runs in the street.
> This could be the end of the clerics, and the establishment of a secular government. Or it could be the beginning of a period of instability, followed by the establishment of an authoritarian dictator to restore order.
> I had to go to You Tube directly to see that vid, the link you gave has some problems. Just enter "Neda", the clip was quite graphic, and has become a rallying point.
> Thanx
> sic_semper_tyranusxx
> --- In room2awards@yahoogroups.com, "Curtis" wrote:
> >
> > I heard that the Iranian Government is classifying all deaths of protestors as terrorist deaths. In other words justifiable homicides. I don't think this regime can survive this......
> >
> > "At 19:05 June 20th Place: Karekar Ave., at the corner crossing Khosravi St. and Salehi st. A young woman who was standing aside with her father watching the protests was shot by a basij member hiding on the rooftop of a civilian house. He had clear shot at the girl and could not miss her. However, he aimed straight her heart.
> >
> > I am a doctor, so I rushed to try to save her. But the impact of the gunshot was so fierce that the bullet had blasted inside the victim's chest, and she died in less than 2 minutes. The protests were going on about 1 kilometers away in the main street and some of the protesting crowd were running from tear gass used among them, towards Salehi St.
> >
> > The film is shot by my friend who was standing beside me. Please let the world know."
> >
> > http://andrewsullivan.theatlantic.com/the_daily_dish/2009/06/confirming-the-basij-murder-of-neda.html
> >

Jane's Close Encounter of the Third Kind (well maybe..I had missing time)

themote: I'm still wondering what you think is kept secret

Me: i guess even NASA hoped for that

oh well i guess i did have a close encounter

but you wont believe me

you think i was just hallucinating from something bad

in was 1976

yes, known as YOUR bicentennial

themote: all I require is proof, just as any scientist does

witness accounts are unreliable and subjective

Me: that is why i think that but you know i dont care really why should i

ok i could and do use the 1,000 and one method of counting

i mean...i dont care if you believe me or not

why would i lie to you

themote: not a problem

Me: missing time even

themote: I believe you think you had an experience, no problem there

drunks miss time, still not proof

Me: like the day the earth stood still but hey ...how can i quantify and qualify this teenage experience

i was looking at the sky

walking to a babysitting job

themote: what you believe is up to you, it just isn't proof of anything

Me: looking up from the sky

from the park

and i noticed 2 stars brighter than the rest that looked like headlights

and they got bigger

and then there was this huge form over my head over the park

it was black on black but i could make out the outline

the lights went around the ship

the magnetics made me feel like my brains were being sucked up into my head

that doesnt make sense

i mean

my brains were coming out the top of my head

and then i looked away and ran the heck out of there

and as i looked back into the sky behind me i saw an red explosion

i then felt like there was a wierd "the day the earth stood still feeling" or missing time, things were just coming back slowly to life in the dark and i didnt tell anyone except my old bj

he said i should have gone with them

nice eh?


Me: hahah!

not joking, serious!

themote: it is a very nice story

Me: yes but it isnt just a story to me

how can i prove that?

i dont know...

themote: sadly though, nothing to base a scientific explanation on

Me: just lets say, there is a lot more "out there" than what we can imagine

themote: you can't prove it, that's why it is useless from a scientific standpoint

Me: you want pudding?

themote: doesn't mean it didn't happen

just means it has no science value

Me: well...that was probably once in a blue moon occurence

themote: I've seen pink and blue elephants

Me: funny thing is i didnt feel that calm it was frightening

themote: the science behind it was muchotequila

Me: yes...

i agree i was only sweet 16 or so

i mean i wast an imbiber

themote: no, me

Me: oh...ok

i wonder if it was an EMP hallucination

there are those swamp gas theories of use texans

themote: swamp gas isn't a theory

methane clouds are fact

Me: it was your theory?

uh huh

themote: no, my elephants were caused by a quart of tequila, that's a FACT

Me: really, with the mescalito?

i read don juan

well i can see that

themote: methane clouds are common in some places and have been the source of many experiences

Me: really? like RADON gas?

themote: radon is an inert gas, it doesn't burn

methane burns

Me: ok

the ships had no noise...but it could be a prebirth experience?

one ship i meant

i guess i could go under hypno

the canadians were saying the earth releases, from time to time, electromagnetic energy bursts; is this true?

themote: the human mind has nearly unlimited potential to try and make sense of things we do not understand

Me: hey if i could figure out there magnetics and we could go to orion (really) well then, i guess my hallucination not a bad thing

themote: yea, it's called "lightning"

and sprites

and elves

Me: maybe...? i am irish

themote: many forms of EM on the planet

Me: background


themote: the aurora

Me: huh

yes...i have heard

themote: surely you've seen the auroras

causes by the interaction of the solar wind and the upper atmosphere

Me: i saw in wawa when hale bop and the asteroid potatoe visitation, and then SW coming thru that doorwa


i felt ohmaybe i shouldnt be here

i guess thats why i have agoraphobia now

themote: could be

Me: hey it could be simply i was cut off of oxygen at birth ..there that explains it

themote: Occam's Razor

Me: lets move on...and upwards!

whats that?

themote: 2 days 16 hours 59 minutes

Me: ok we need a NASA widget

lauch with the guy saying "T minus 2 days>>>etc

themote: T minus 37 Hours 40 Minutes 39 Seconds

remember there are built-in holds

Me: i love the NASA culture

it is so...part of who i am...in some way...

themote: http://www.nasa.gov/mission_pages/shuttle/launch/index.html

you should see the offical countdown clock there

Me: ty

eND OF jANE'S DISCUSSION RE close encounter (not sure of the third kind as...I WAS MISSING TIME after all)...:)

hope everyone had a lovely LONG day jesterday

Editor's note: ever since that "scathing idictment" and "profusely insulting" story, I have been getting flak from the heads at NASA. No seriously, not really. Well maybe. As a civilian overseer of Safety Issues at NASA (hell no one else seems to be doing it, why can't I?)I realize that there is a very STRONG PROTECTIONIST racket of some sort. NOt that there is CHRIS HATFIELD breaking anybodies legs or stuff like that (well maybe?), but I really think that ROBERTA BONDAR doesnt give a crap about my opinions anyway, (yes she does care about how I feel about that horrible northern highway between Sault Ste Marie and Thunderbay...(you thought ICETRUCKERS looked bad)...but anyway, here is the scoop that rattled the cage of the non-stop hydrogen leak at NASA. And they call me the psycho-housewife...from HELL or NASA? Anyway, if they had one of those disasters you'd know the answer. Better psycho now than sorry later, right, right? RIGHT????? jUST A LITTLE menopausal angst on the MOnday morning, good for fodder, look, writers got to make a living, right? And if it means that we just happen to discover (oh there's that word again)something, we got to think, when we are not able to conjecture we're all in the big blue bin baby! We're all related (yah, we're talking SARNIA here)...and so it goes, and so it goes...stay tuned to the next NASA SERIES of short stories 52 Bradbury Ave productions. Look I got to feed my kids, right? jANE jONES ps NO INSULT EVER INTENDED...gosh is HATFIELD ever sensitive! I LOVE YA HATFIELD!

motie is Offline
motie will receive your Chat message after signing in.

Me: good morning motie

hope I didnt insult NASA in any way it was just a STORY! CRIP!

it is called hypothetical fiction!

(covers a host of sins)

seriously, i wrote a good piece, less...illuminating, but never insulting...when conjecture gets insulting..ppl insult too easily and you have to ask..."what the heck are they hiding?"


so other than that

if you'd like to read it you are welcome to visit my blog site

but you are all nuts and bolts so...ya...well...ummm




i know...hey..let bygones be bygones, right?

oh oh i crossed that demilitarized zone again...

civilian overseer here!


how the heck does that happen says the brass

well...luck would have it "youre damn lucky i saved your ask me no more questions"

later alligator, right?

the flow must flow

unless it is dammed up

and then?

well, then you are s o l

but anyway i dont know from ancronyms

acronyms right


let the geniuses do they making

and the rest of us watch



no seriously...dont fear, we ARE working on it,


uh huh

well..so back to basics

whats up with the leak today?

motie is typing...
149 characters left

Sunday, June 21, 2009

Joke of the Day: Too Much Re-idiot-ation

Joke of the Day

The wife says to her husband, "Why do you keep reiterating

the same thing all the time. I hear you! You want me to get

you a drink, you know I am going to get you a drink. It

really, really annoys me when you keep asking me the same

thing, over and over again? If you tell me once that should

be good enough,don't you think? I'm not a reiterating

idiot, only a berated idiot known as beidiot which in fact

I am becoming from chronic reidiotizing!

The husband reiterated "Honey can you get me that drink,


Wife's tense smile while she delivers 10 glasses of orange juice as ordered

by the husband. "Would you like the 10 more drinks you ordered, dear? They

are on the counter going bad".

Husband says "Yes, bring them here, dear, thanks".

Wife says "Oh brother...".

Open letter to Michael Burstein: The Value of the Artist

Dear Michael Burstein: This article is very true to form; and an excellent summary as to the many legal problems facing writers, artists, etc., on the net today.

If I wanted "exposure" I would go outside in my -70 degree Celcius Canadian winter undressed and shivering and wait for two things to happen; neither of these events are positive events, unfortunately, but that is exactly the same as the treatment given to artists/writers and creators of all kinds on the net today; Here is what will happen to me if I let this problem slide; either I will;

1. freeze to death or

2. get a deadly dose of impending pnemonia caused by the obvious ill-will rather than the supposed goodwill created by the net administrator policy or non-policy of artists/creators today. These nefarious powers that be "not for artists" or creators of any kind. The malicious and callous "freeze out" of artist's rights is not going unnoticed. Artists/writers/creators of all kinds are being tragically compromised to the point of making artists etc., persons non-grata, without any effectual legal rights whatsoever. So how did this dismantling of the creative power be destroyed in this way by net policy?

It simply is this; there are no agencies to protect the mass interest of artists/writers/creators on the net, no umbrella organization to protect all creative endeavors, so the artists, etc. suffer the slight of being virtually ignored, removed from the equation of all rights and priviledges.

The net administration policy smooth operations convincingly seduced artists to accept the idea that "exposure" of their art will be tantemount to
success. The promise of exposure is therefore a hollow promise, offering of crumbs to the artist, etc., who already have had enough of that menu.

Offering artists the supposed "benefit" of exposure could only work for those non-professional artists, writers, etc., who do not mind being pushed into a corner, but definitely not the corner office on 5th Avenue. Such trojan horse-type offeringsby net administration only stokes the fires of the artists', writers' etc.,discontent. Certainly an artists'/writers' revolt is long overdue; but when, how?

The many artists/creators/orginators of protected and copyrighted material do not fathom the depths of these slick power lords of the net.

It has taken a great deal of cold blue steel resolve by net administration to so skilfully to stealthily slink undetected through the naive artists'/writers' garden of net worthy art. This feigned gesture of goodwill by the net administrators is laughable by those who are armed with the knowledge of true copyright laws, which should allow the clause "all forms of media; electronic ect" to hold any weight of merit and benefit to artists, etc. intrinsic rights.

The wholly nasty net administrators who do not want artists, etc looking behind the screen at their dastardly deeds will stop at nothing to remove all rights of potential income earners. Artists, etc., are being denied their rights, and it is all due to faulty policy made by net administrators who do not want to give the creators of said copyright their just desserts. Artists of all kinds deserve better treatment!

Artists et al hardly notice the slight of hand, the magician's power wand vanquishing and vanishing their power base. Most artists, etc today are unknowing living with the potential damage being done to them. Is is not only artists, but the artistic process as well which is under fire by net administrator's lack of adequate copyright laws on the net.

Indeed the admins actions could eventually create the same snare set for the artists. As work submitted will now be a lowly quality since no value is placed upon the artists' intrinsic worth. The freedom to create is usurped by lack of resources it takes to create and maintain the artist and their rightful livelihood.

Yes, the bohemoth net is wholly unfair to the struggling artists/writers. The net policy concerning copyright laws is woefully biased and one-sided.

Artists and writers need to be compensated adequately for their creative art and should not be finagled by those who do not have the artists/writers best interest at heart. Who will protect the best interests of the artists/writers on the net? Any net heroes out there?

Jane Jones Canada

Saturday, June 20, 2009

Critical Hydrogen Morphology

"Wake up, Sam!" screamed the indignant Sargaent Balzac, "There's something wrong with the data"...Sam McCool's sky blue eyes popped open and looked around the ceiling. Once Captain Sam's mind focused into the world of the conscious he assumed the milary robotic-like drill procedure and belted out "Yes, Sir!". The intense training of Captain McCool was evident in his lightening-quick response and call to action by Sargent Balzac. "It is 1400 hours, Zulu time Sir". "Good Morning, Balzac, is this a drill?" "No, Sir, this is not a drill, I repeat, this is not a drill" Sargaent Balzac had a concerned squint, otherwise all else appeared nornal to the Captain. "What the hell are you talking about Balzy?".

The hydrogen tanks of the new aerospace engines were recently topped off by Oxyipure, providing bulk hydrogen and under yearly contract to NASA. It was Captain McCool's duty to secure the load, and his duty to verify, quantify and qualify the contents were safe and of superior quality for the Mission Specialists. Until early this morning and the shrill rude awakening Captain McCool thought all was under control and proceding as usual, considering the consist leaking hydrogen valve.

Captain McCool had been sleeping peacefully, assuming the prostate position of the 24-7 on-call duty Captain Major. Assured that everything was as smooth flowing as possible, considering the recent "no launch" command of the system's mega-computers, McCool felt things were progressing in the usual procedure and schedule methods for NASA's administration.

With this recent calamity caused by the potentially disasterous hydrogen leak, all hell had broken loose at MASA. Captain McCool was afraid he would be called up on the carpet and receive a dressing down by the chief military brass. "What the dang tarnation happen this time Balzy?". Sgt Balzac in typical military fashion replied, "We're having problems with the rubber valve leak again, Sir". "Again? Wasn't that fixed and specked last week, Balzy?"

Capt McCool emphasized with an angry voice. "Yes, Sir. I mean..." Sargaent Balzac stalled in his sentence, atypical of the strong marine, "No Sir, there were some serious problems with the sensor data, Sir". Balzac continued, "I think the tanks were overloaded, or the rubber valve was replaced but data is showing an inconsistency in the hydrogen compositional flow."

Balzac continued with decorum; "It is the same as the last three tries, the error code protocol 252 is consistent with the compromised data. Reload mode critical at .03 there are consistent and blatant discrepacies which signal shut-down mode. It is a continuing viscious cyle, without a reasonable premise in which to procedure to engine staging start up mode. It is the exactly the same as last time, Sir". Balzac spoke with sincerity "There is consistent critial error data in the hydrogen compositional structure". "Yes, Balzy, we are onto it, I've already got the nukies working on it".

In the NASA Press Room the journalists were converging en masse, Uniformed military personnel were everywhere, trying to keep the press at bay. There were many undercover agents posing as press agents and regular citizens. NASA since the critical data error had also signalled the emergency security level to go from Orange to Red. Although the problem was probably technical, the computers did not respond the same. The computers believed this was an actual disaster of immediacy, and in a way, it was that kind of emergency."

"No one knew exactly what was causing the problem. NASA heads decided to enlist all scientific think tanks to discuss the possible solution to the seemingly unsolvable problem plaguing NASA of late. It would be a war against time, as the waiting astronauts in the International Space Station were beginning to get nervous. Would NASA solve this problem on time, and hopefully, on schedule. Even Astronaut Chris Hatfield was getting nervous, although reaffirming his "what me worry look" for the many world reporting agencies which had descended upon Cape Kennedy. The answer to this dilema had to be solved, and fast!

Everywhere there was a sense of urgent anxiety, reporters yelling across the room at other reporters, cameras were everywhere. Journalists from around the world tried to find the most advantegeous position near the stage. In the Walter Cronkite room there was journalist discussion about the hydrogen valve leak. "I wonder how a valve leak could cause so much worldwide commotion to get journalists from China here today" CTV'x Lloyd Roberts said to CNN's Anderson Cooper. "There's got to be a story here Lloyd, I just don't know what it is yet!" Cooper flashed a boyish grin at Roberts and gave a smug wink. "Not since Walter Cronkite's reporting early reporting days have I seen anything like this, it is amazing". All of a sudden the stage microphone was creating static feedback. The many varied reporters became silent and looked upon the stage immediately to find the answers to their never-ending stream of questions.

Entering the arena the Sargeant approached the podium at the other end of the Press Room. Acting as Captain's Press Agent, Sargeant Balzac was clearing the way for the Captain and securing the microphone on the stand of the podium. The room was abuzz with chatty reporters all vying for a key position on the floor by the stage, pushing and shoving for a chance to question the Captain. Once Captain McCool arrived at the podium, he looked down and over the heads of the reporters to the back of the auditorium. McCool leaned down into the microphone and started to clear his throat and took a brief drink of water.

"The first thing I want to tell you, in all honest, is the fact that there is absolutely no truth to the rumour that Mission 113 is cancelled. We have all been trying to find out the cause of the engine's hydrogen leak, we are getting to the bottom of it but these things take time, unfortunately. Captain McCool always cool under pressure was not one to waiver now.

"Until now, we have been collecting large amounts of necessary data. For a complete assessment by the chief engineers at NASA we are waiting upon the Chief NASA nuclear physicists to verify key critical data which will confirm our initial suspicisions about the nature of the hydrogen leak.I am glad to report that as of 1200 hours this morning we have found out the cause of the faulty hydrogen leak; Critical Hydrogen Morphology" Captain McCool was beginning to feel somewhat relieved and smiled a knowing half-smile. There was a loud thunderous clap of applause from the large audience. "Yeah!" most repeated overcome with rarely shown journalistic emotion.

Captain McCool turned around to the digital display behind him. "Here you will see the data resolution of the hydrogen seal. After testing the rubber valve shields NASA scientists have discovered the hydrogen leak problem did not lay within the rubber valve mechanism whatsoever. The valves and the rubber were in perfect condition. The problem had been the nature of the hydrogen gas. There was something causing the hydrogen gas to change, or morph into an intense molecular structure, something that never happened before.

McCool continued, "After the three inital attempts at restarting the engine failed NASA engineers had to look at other options to find the source of the problem. The NASA computers automatically caused a "stand by" mode and could not be rebooted by standard means. This is the beauty of NASA's new safety protocols. The engines will boot into standby mode until the safety issues are adequately addressed and cannot be rebooted for another 48 hours."

"Becase the engine's leaked flow rate of the hydrogen was beyond the .04% leaked hydrogen allowable under the Saftey Initiative and Protective Committee Mission 113 had to be scrubbed a total of three times. As you know, NASA strictly adheres to these protocols. These protocols are in place to protect the shuttle from accidental leak and resultant catastrophic explosion."

Captain McCool's composure was beyond reproach. "There had been some question brought to light by the nuclear scientific committee in regards to their earlier findings on the nature of hydrogen morphology. Hydrogen Morphology is a new science, based in part from recent CERN discoveries in the Particle Labs. The data provided by the NSC had provided us with the answers for our hydrogen leak dilema of the past weeks multiple scrubs" Captain McCool took a big gulp from the glass of ice water provided. "With this new data we have found that the earlier discrepancies with the excessive leaked hydrogen can be directly attributed to the new theory by the NSC.

The room of reporters silenced as they paid extreme attention and held unto every word the Captain said. "It has been a long time to finally feel we are getting the answers that will once and for all allow NASA's Mission to continue to the moon and beyond. The Orion project which was scheduled to launch yesterday is also postponed, so as you can see, all is dependent on NASA solving this dilema quickly. That is all, are there any questions?"


SCIENCE NEWS Share Blog Subscribe Print Email Bookmark

"Big Bang" collider set for autumn restart: CERN


Posted 2009/06/19 at 2:43 pm EDT
GENEVA, June 19, 2009 (Reuters) — The giant sub-atomic particle collider built to reproduce "Big Bang" conditions is set to restart this autumn, the European Organization for Nuclear Research (CERN) said on Friday.

A technician walks under the core magnet of the CMS (Compact Muon Solenoid) experiment at the European Organization for Nuclear Research CERN (Centre Europeen de Recherche Nucleaire) in the French village of Cessy, near Geneva March 22, 2007. REUTERS/Denis Balibouse

Related Topics
Atomic and Molecular Physics
Science and Technology
Ads by GoogleAdvertise here
You Will Not Believe This
Learn to Jump Into Other Dimensions to Access Higher...
www.QuantumJumping.comTreatment in India
Top hospitals, 1/10 of US UK prices World class success rates
www.aarexindia.comFix All PC Problems
Diagnose All Computer Problems Free Download, Fix 100% Guaranteed
www.PcDocPro.comMake Cheap Solar Panel
Reduce Your Electricity Bill by 90% Build up Solar System and Wind Mill
www.make-solar-panel-now.comScientists believe they have figured out how to prevent a repeat of the problems that caused the 10 billion Swiss franc ($9.2 billion) Large Hadron Collider to be shut down just nine days after it was switched on last September, CERN expert Steve Myers said in a statement.

The machine -- the largest and most complex ever made -- overheated because of a faulty splice in the super-conducting cable connecting two cooling magnets, according to Myers.

There are 10,000 splices around the underground collider's 27-km (17-mile) ring, which smashes particles together at a temperature of just above absolute zero to recreate the conditions believed to have been present at the beginning of the universe 13.7 billion years ago.

CERN has put back the start date several times, and most recently said the collider would restart in September.

"Many new tests have been developed," Myers said. "That has given us a wealth of information about the LHC splices, and confidence that we will be in good shape for running this year."

Among the repairs and modifications made to the collider -- which are thought to cost up to $30 million -- are a system to respond to any heating up of its core, several added pressure relief valves, improved vacuum technology, and stronger anchors connecting its magnets to the floor.

"All of this contributes to preparing the machine for a long and safe operational lifetime," CERN said.

(Reporting by Laura MacInnis; Editing by Stephanie Nebehay and Elizabeth Fullerton)

Copyright Reuters 2008. See Restrictions for more details.
Related Stories

Giant sperm shows size matters for some animals
LONDON, June 18, 2009 (Reuters) — Tiny mussel-like creatures living 100 million years ago made giant sperm longer than their own bodies, proving size has always mattered for some animals when it comes to sex, scientists said on Thursday.
First hard evidence found of a lake on Mars
WASHINGTON, June 17, 2009 (Reuters) — A long, deep canyon and the remains of beaches are perhaps the clearest evidence yet of a standing lake on the surface of Mars -- one that apparently contained water when the planet was supposed to have already dried up, scientists said on Wednesday.
New, superheavy element to enter periodic table
BERLIN, June 11, 2009 (Reuters) — A new, superheavy chemical element numbered 112 will soon be officially included in the periodic table, German researchers said.
Fat cells in bone marrow impair transplant healing
CHICAGO, June 10, 2009 (Reuters) — Fat cells appear to slow the formation of new blood cells in bone marrow, and trimming them may be a new way to help cancer patients recover faster from bone marrow transplants, U.S. researchers said on Wednesday.Ads by GoogleAdvertise here
Stem Cell Banking Leader
Your Cells today your chance tomorrow. Get Details Today!
www.AssureImmune.comComet Hits Earth in 2012
The Mayan Calendar Ends 12/21/2012. Planet Nibiru will Destroy Earth.
2012-comet.comGarage Door Openers
Barrie Door See My Profile
YellowPages.ca/BarrieDoorPlatelet Count
Increase Platelet Count Help your body create healthy blood
www.itp-helper.comLake Geneva Limousine
Chauffeur driven car and limousines Megeve, Chamonix, Courchevel.
www.alpeslimousine.comheadstones monuments
Affordable solutions for family memorial in USA.
www.offerstone.comCopyright Reuters 2008. See Restrictions for more details.
Search NewsDailyNumber of stories in archives: 2,855


Find with keyword(s): Enter a keyword or phrase to find the latest news stories,
plus related articles, videos, blog posts, and podcasts.NEWS FROM THE NET


Missing Sunspots - FOUND!

Mystery Of The Missing Sunspots Solved?
ScienceDaily (June 19, 2009) — The sun is in the pits of a century-class solar minimum, and sunspots have been puzzlingly scarce for more than two years. Now, for the first time, solar physicists might understand why.

See also:
Space & Time
Northern Lights
Solar System
Extrasolar Planets
Solar flare
Solar radiation
At an American Astronomical Society press conference in Boulder, Colorado, researchers announced that a jet stream deep inside the sun is migrating slower than usual through the star's interior, giving rise to the current lack of sunspots.

Rachel Howe and Frank Hill of the National Solar Observatory (NSO) in Tucson, Arizona, used a technique called helioseismology to detect and track the jet stream down to depths of 7,000 km below the surface of the sun. The sun generates new jet streams near its poles every 11 years, they explained. The streams migrate slowly from the poles to the equator and when a jet stream reaches the critical latitude of 22 degrees, new-cycle sunspots begin to appear.

Howe and Hill found that the stream associated with the next solar cycle has moved sluggishly, taking three years to cover a 10 degree range in latitude compared to only two years for the previous solar cycle.

The jet stream is now, finally, reaching the critical latitude, heralding a return of solar activity in the months and years ahead.

"It is exciting to see", says Hill, "that just as this sluggish stream reaches the usual active latitude of 22 degrees, a year late, we finally begin to see new groups of sunspots emerging."

The current solar minimum has been so long and deep, it prompted some scientists to speculate that the sun might enter a long period with no sunspot activity at all, akin to the Maunder Minimum of the 17th century. This new result dispells those concerns. The sun's internal magnetic dynamo is still operating, and the sunspot cycle is not "broken."

Because it flows beneath the surface of the sun, the jet stream is not directly visible. Hill and Howe tracked its hidden motions via helioseismology. Shifting masses inside the sun send pressure waves rippling through the stellar interior. So-called "p modes" (p for pressure) bounce around the interior and cause the sun to ring like an enormous bell. By studying the vibrations of the sun's surface, it is possible to figure out what is happening inside. Similar techniques are used by geologists to map the interior of our planet.

In this case, researchers combined data from GONG and SOHO. GONG, short for "Global Oscillation Network Group," is an NSO-led network of telescopes that measures solar vibrations from various locations around Earth. SOHO, the Solar and Heliospheric Observatory, makes similar measurements from space.

"This is an important discovery," says Dean Pesnell of NASA's Goddard Space Flight Center. "It shows how flows inside the sun are tied to the creation of sunspots and how jet streams can affect the timing of the solar cycle."

There is, however, much more to learn.

"We still don't understand exactly how jet streams trigger sunspot production," says Pesnell. "Nor do we fully understand how the jet streams themselves are generated."

To solve these mysteries, and others, NASA plans to launch the Solar Dynamics Observatory (SDO) later this year. SDO is equipped with sophisticated helioseismology sensors that will allow it to probe the solar interior better than ever before.

"The Helioseismic and Magnetic Imager (HMI) on SDO will improve our understanding of these jet streams and other internal flows by providing full disk images at ever-increasing depths in the sun," says Pesnell.

Continued tracking and study of solar jet streams could help researchers do something unprecedented--accurately predict the unfolding of future solar cycles.


Adapted from materials provided by Science@NASA. Original article written by Dr. Tony Phillips.
Email or share this story:| More Need to cite this story in your essay, paper, or report? Use one of the following formats:

MLA Science@NASA (2009, June 19). Mystery Of The Missing Sunspots Solved?. ScienceDaily. Retrieved June 20, 2009, from http://www.sciencedaily.com­ /releases/2009/06/090618131402.htmenlarge

A helioseismic map of the solar interior. Tilted red-yellow bands trace solar jet streams. Black contours denote sunspot activity. When the jet streams reach a critical latitude around 22 degrees, sunspot activity intensifies. (Credit: Image courtesy of National Solar Observatory)
Ads by GoogleAdvertise here
Canadian Solar Panels
I Reduced Energy Bill By 85% I Bought 8 Guides, Top 2 Here:
CanadianSolarPanelKit.pwr-info.comBuild A Wind Generator
How To Guide Shows All. Low Cost. Full Detailed Plans
greendiyenergy.comDIY Solar Panel Kit - $49
Why Not Make Your Own Solar Panels? You Can With A to Z Guide & Videos.
DIYSolarPanels411.com/MadeEasySolarMake Your Own Energy
Step-by-step guide reveals how to make your own energy & save $100's
www.eco101tips.comCheap Solar Power Kit $47
HowTo Make PV Solar Panels Save Up To 95% on Power Bill
Related Stories


Spotless Sun: Blankest Year Of The Space Age (Oct. 7, 2008) — Astronomers who count sunspots have announced that 2008 is now the "blankest year" of the Space Age. An image taken on Sept. 27, 2008 by the Solar and Heliospheric Observatory (SOHO) shows a solar ... > read more
Sun Shows Signs Of Life: Long-Awaited Solar Cycle 24 Starting To Take Off (Nov. 12, 2008) — After two-plus years of few sunspots, even fewer solar flares, and a generally eerie calm, the sun is finally showing signs of ... > read more
Sun Goes Longer Than Normal Without Producing Sunspots (June 9, 2008) — The sun has been lying low for the past couple of years, producing no sunspots and giving a break to satellites. Periods of inactivity are normal, but this one has gone on longer than usual, ... > read more
Scientists Issue Unprecedented Forecast Of Next Sunspot Cycle (Mar. 7, 2006) — The next sunspot cycle will be 30 to 50 percent stronger than the last one, and begin as much as a year late, according to a breakthrough forecast using a computer model of solar dynamics developed ... > read more
Ulysses Spacecraft Flies Over Sun's North Pole (Jan. 24, 2008) — The Ulysses spacecraft today is making a rare flyby of the sun's north pole. Unlike any other spacecraft, Ulysses is able to sample winds at the sun's poles, which are difficult to study from Earth. ... > read moreSearch ScienceDaily



As is the longstanding tradition at AML to post something Arthurian on
every "Alban Hefin", so here goes:

On this day, 21 June, the first day of summer, and the longest day of
the year when Sol Invictus ("The Unconquerable Sun") is at its zenith,
the Midsummer Solstice is celebrated by Druids, Neo-Pagans, Pagans,
Wiccans and Alchemists throughout the world --- from Ireland, Scotland,
Wales and England, to Persia, Russia, Korea and China (note that the
Summer Solstice is delayed for two weeks in Asia).

The Midsummer Solstice marks the end of the reign of the Oak King (of
the waxing year), who is replaced by his successor the Holly King (of
the waning year), who will reign till the Midwinter Solstice.

Around this date, the deities traditionally honoured are fertility gods
and goddesses such as Cerridwen, Cuchulain, Kupala (in Russia) and The
Green Man. In the church calendar, June 23 is known as St. John's Eve.
At Beddeglert, South Wales, crowds gathered annually on June 21 to bathe
in the waters of St. Celert at Ffynnon Celer, near Llangeler in
Carmarthenshire, 17 kilometres from Merlin's Hill, seeking miraculous
cures from sickness. Merlin's Hill lies on the Midwinter Solstice line
from Dinas Emrys. Half a mile away, at Pumpsaint, the musuem of
Carmartheshire has on display an 8-spoked golden sun-wheel, decorated
with tiny golden balls, dating back to Roman times, perhaps symbolizing
the "wheel of the year".

On the nights of the full moon, Arthur and his warriors emerge from the
side of South Cadbury Castle to ride around the hill on horses shod with
silver, and water their horses at Arthur's Well. But it is also said
categorically in local folklore that on Midsummer Eve, the golden gates
on the hillside open for an instant, where one might catch a glimpse of
Arthur and his entire court seated within, enjoying a great feast.

On this day, at Midsummer, the modern-day British druids traditionally
gather at Stonehenge in Wiltshire to welcome the Midsummer sunrise ---
though it must be stressed that Stonehenge dates back as early as the
Mesolithic period, as far back as 8,000 BC, and was certainly not
erected by the Druids.

In the meantime, the Sun continues to be venerated at the Midsummer
Solstice there, be it in the guise of "Merlin", "Arthur", the Christ,
St. George, St. John, Melchizadek, Mithras, "Sol Invictus" or the Sacred
Masculine ...

from Karen Han from Yahoo Group Arthurian Myths and Legends

For public address: Could Hydrogen be changing it's atomic structure

With the combined "green house gases" out there, in the enviromment, mixing and melding is bound or bond to occur. It may be that the shuttle leak (which has wholly confounded the NASA community)of hydrogen gas may be due to an atomic structure heretofor not understood; environmental hydrogen bonding.
This hypothesis stems from the fact that gases are bonding organically in our enviroment due to man's assault against the environment. The many years of discharge of various kinds of gases and/or atomic particles is leading to hydrogen become distil impure,in other words, hydrogen gas on our planet has become more votile.

Take for example the many sponaneous fires burning in various areas. Or the lack of ozone could make the hydrogen change it atomic structure.

If it isnt the valve, and it may not be just the valve, we have a deadly form of hydrogen which may start to become more of an unstable mass. Could someone address this issue please

Friday, June 19, 2009

King Arthur and the Knights Templar: Crusades Made Hay

Dear Thomas et al: This is true, the monks were diabolic towards the knights because they were persecuting the Knights Templar as per Dan Brown special recently. The were a chasm in the ecumenical hierarchy and it was believed that there some Popes' who were jealous of the many successful quests of the Knights errant. This tv special was on the History Channel last month, regarding the Knights Templar, Masons connection. Apparently as the Knights became exceedingly wealthier on their many exploitive crusades much rife was caused due to an innate fear that the Knights would eventually overthrow in the status quo dictates at that time. Can anyone further support this "sketchy" observation? Jane Jones --- In arthurianmythandlegends@yahoogroups.com, Thomas Myers wrote: