Tuesday, December 12, 2017


Our fellow citizens opposed to the policies of the current occupant and his supporters style themselves as the resistance, and that's good. But it wouldn't hurt to take a few pages from the underground and resistance fighters from WWII.

Immigration is fond of roving road blocks. I don't have a lot of information but I'm assuming they set them up near towns or on the main roads. Send someone with no documentation problems ahead. Use those cell phones. We've got the technology. Use it. South African activist Steven Biko was caught out of his banning area at a road block the police were getting ready to move. And the police might not have even asked to see their internal passports if they'd been able to check the trunk of the car for smuggled weapons. A few days later he was dead at the hands of the police.

We have the right to demonstrate and that's good. Don't stop. But if you have documentation problems stay away from the cameras for heaven's sake. Don't give immigration an easy arrest. They're supposed to be going after undocumented individuals with criminal records. Don't reward them for being lazy and scooping up the easy finds.

Not much you can do about schools and court houses. Try going back to house churches and move around.

Face it. We're living in an occupied country and we're being "occupied" by our own fellow "citizens." And I use the term loosely. For all I know some of the tactics are already being used and if they are spread the word. Stretch the law as far as you can and stretch it again.

Monday, December 11, 2017


Nazi Germany occupied Denmark early in 1940. And to start with the country was relatively well treated. Of course no country likes being occupied and the screws turned tighter and tighter. In October of 1943 the order came down to finally round up the seven thousand or so Jews living in Denmark. 

At least one of the warnings came from Georg Duckwitz a German attache working in Denmark. He tipped off at least one former member of the Danish government. He tipped off others. And the word spread. The Swedes agreed to take the refugees. Money was raised to pay passages. Fishing boats were used mainly because they were the one class of ships that could put out without raising suspicion.

The Nazis chose Rosh Hashanah for the beginning of the round up. Over and over they found empty houses and apartments. Some with the candles still burning and food on the table. 


And it's Eichmann and Himmler are turning the screws
The Fuhrer they say grows impatient
"How can it be Denmark's Jews still walk free
After three years of kind occupation?
We will take them like sheep in their beds as they sleep
On the second night of their new year
Devoutly at home they'll be helpless alone
When they cry out no one will hear"

But Duckwitz the German tells Hedtoft the Dane
"My friend I have dangerous news
In three hours the transport ships will set at anchor
You must warn them warn all the Jews"
Soon good Rabbi Melchior stands in the synagogue
"There'll be no service today
The raids come tomorrow, dwell not on your sorrow
By nightfall we must be away"

And it's fire up the diesel and look out for swells
We're leaving Espergaerde behind us
Who strike at our friends strike us as well
We'll pray the patrol boats don't find us
When the sirens are wailing and shouts fill the night
Never will you stand alone
So it's over the Oresund
Till the day we can welcome you home

Sompolinski the tailor on the eve of Rosh Hashana
Gathers his family near
"The Lord is my light and salvation
Whom on this earth shall I fear?"
When a young Danish gentile steps into the glow
Of the candle with tears flowing down
"Good neighbors flee - I pray you believe me"
And as quickly the young man is gone

Christian policemen, shopkeepers, and teachers
Tell their friends of the quickening storm
While students on bicycles race through the streets
Searching for Jews to be warned
And Katlev the foreman blurts out to the trainman
"My family has no place to hide"
"Well bring 'em to my house," the stranger replies
"And we'll spit in the damn Nazi's eyes"


And it's fire up the diesel and look out for swells
We're leaving Espergaerde behind us
Who strike at our friends strike us as well
We'll pray the patrol boats don't find us
When the sirens are wailing and shouts fill the night
Never will you stand alone
So it's over the Oresund
Till the day we can welcome you home

Ellen Nielsen the fishwife in the port of Drag√°¸r
Has no use for political views
She'll call out the catch, "Fresh salmon, fresh cod"
Comes a whisper "Please help, we are Jews"
"But if you are Jews you're not safe on the street
I know a man with a sail"
Till moonrise they sleep in the shade of her eaves
And escape on the fisherman's keel

Rabbi Melchior hires a young trawlerman
To ferry his family across
After twelve hours afloat in a scurfy old boat
Morning light shows the same Danish coast
Says the skipper "I'm afraid of the German blockade
So we've motored in circles around"
The rabbi gives a shout, with one blow knocks him out
And steers a straight line 'cross the sound


And it's fire up the diesel and look out for swells
We're leaving Espergaerde behind us
Who strike at our friends strike us as well
We'll pray the patrol boats don't find us
When the sirens are wailing and shouts fill the night
Never will you stand alone
So it's over the Oresund
Till the day we can welcome you home

Frozen with fright in the October night
Families huddle in basements and barns
Mistaking each breath for the angel of death
The Gestapo, the shot, the alarm
Then down into the hold with the stench and the cold
And drug all the babies with schnapps
Someone shouts, "Valk√°mmen till Sverige
You are in Swedish waters at last"

Seven thousands of Jews smuggled over to Sweden
By fishermen, nurses, and priests
Hitler sends Eichmann to hunt them down
But his quarry have vanished like mist
When the war's over the Jews return
Cheers and flowers adorn their way home
"We're not heroes or martyrs," so say the Danes
"We were just looking after our own"


And it's fire up the diesel and look out for swells
We're leaving Espergaerde behind us
Who strike at our friends strike us as well
We'll pray the patrol boats don't find us
When the sirens are wailing and shouts fill the night
Never will you stand alone
So it's over the Oresund
Till the day we can welcome you home

And today we will welcome you home
And today we welcome you home

[ These are
Denmark 1943 Lyrics on http://www.lyricsmania.com/ ]
In the end only four hundred or so Jews were arrested and most of them survived the war. Disney put out a made for TV movie titled Miracle at Midnight. If you are curious you can find it on YouTube. To be honest it has some plot holes big enough to drive a truck through but it gives you some idea of what was happening. Something to remember in the age of Trump. 

Sunday, December 10, 2017


Damn. Accidentally highlighted an entire post deleted the damn thing. Let's try this again.

There is a FB page that loves to highlight some of the crazier entries they come across. This is one of the recent ones and it manages to cover just about everything.

As you can see this set covers just about every nut job conspiracy theory out there. And I wonder how many of the Mark of Beast believers carry credit cards now that I think about it.

For the record there is an Agenda 21. It's a nonbinding US resolution promoting sustainability. Not that the UN has any power to enforce it if it was binding. And no government has the power to enforce it either. Anyway it has become the punching bag for every nut job, conspiracy pushers from Alex Jones to Glenn Beck. What is it with their followers. Conspiracy theories seem to be more addicting than heroin and just as dangerous.

I didn't take Physics in high school. I suspect I MIGHT have learned how many tons of a material you would have to pump out at the altitude where contrails form in order to reach the ground. I do know that poison gases are applied at ground level in order to be effective. I suspect you'd be in more danger living down wind of large scale pig farms, feed lots or large scale agribusiness operations growing pesticide/herbicide resistant crops. Which breed resistant pests and weeds. Remember the old better living through chemistry motto in the sixties? What a joke.  No wonder evolution by natural selection is such a target.

And may there be a special "mansion" in the hereafter for the goons that invented those little lovelies. What is it about us humans anyway? Many of the ideas for pesticides and herbicides started out as poison gasses to be used in war.

I don't really remember when we got hit with logic and probability in high school. I suspect it was either in algebra 2 or the senior math class. Both electives and both had small classes. Far too late in my opinion. Basic logic should start in the first grade. With yearly repeats. It won't catch everyone and the Christian homeschool movement probably won't go near it. Another reason to tank so called school choice.

Oh, and here's a link  to the Wickipedia entry on the chemtrail conspiracy.

And don't get me started on anti vaccines. I was the proud sufferer of hard measles, chicken pox and mumps. I would have gladly skipped any or all three. Got both of the polio vaccines. Salk and Sabin. And we damn near lost one of my nephews to meningitis before that vaccine was developed. He was only eight months old when he got. Scared the living daylights out of the whole family.

Not nearly as good as the one I accidentally deleted. Oh well.

Saturday, December 9, 2017


After reading I don't know how many articles on how difficult it is to change the hearts and minds of certain individuals now matter how strong the evidence you have I will not cuss them. I will not call them names. I will not insult their ancestors back to the infinite generations.

 I will TRY to be polite. Although I'm not sure how you can make "you are a damn fool who shouldn't be allowed out without a keeper" sound any better than it is.

I've been watching old TV shows. You know the ones that had real scripts, used words with two or more syllables and didn't bleep out every other word.


From the late, great Carl Sagan. He was right. In order to assume that a machine had been designed the person trying to identify it would have to know the concept of "machine." It has been said, I don't remember by who, that if the technology strange enough and powerful enough the "primitive" observers just might believe that the ones in possession are gods. Or demons. Probably depends on how those primitives view the universe. 

Looking around me right now I'm tempted to come down on the demon definition. Or demon possession. Or insanity. Or dementia. Or damn fool, never before seen in this country or few others of freaking STUPIDITY. Forgive me for shouting. 

Type of Fallacy:
Begging the question/assuming the answer

This occurs when a statement has an unproven premise. It is also call circular reasoning or circular logic.

“A man from a primitive culture who sees an automobile might guess that is was powered by the wind or by an antelope hidden under the car, but when he opens up the hood and sees the engine he immediately realized that it was designed” Michael Behe Most of Behe’s arguments say, if it looks designed, it must be so. This assumes the answer to the question.

Riiiiiiiiiight. The primitive tribesman who has never seen an engine is going to assume that the engine he’s looking at is “designed.” More likely it would be “what the hell is this? Never seen or heard of anything like this before.”

Wednesday, December 6, 2017


Watching a YouTube video of Neil deGrasse Tyson doing a lecture on being a skeptic. The whole lecture is a hoot but this subject came up at about the 1:14 minute mark. More or less. 
This happened back in 2006 in New Jersey. Middle school student recorded his social studies teacher. What really caught Tyson's attention was the bit about dinosaurs on Noah's ark. Which prompted the following, very pointed, very short letter to the editor. 
To the Editor:
People cited violation of the First Amendment when a New Jersey schoolteacher asserted that evolution and the Big Bang are not scientific and that Noah's ark carried dinosaurs.
This case is not about the need to separate church and state; it's about the need to separate ignorant, scientifically illiterate people from the ranks of teachers.

Neil deGrasse Tyson
New York, Dec. 19, 200

Hey if you want to teach Sunday school in my public school let me teach science in your Sunday school. How well do you think that would go over. 


Or damn it Carl. It wasn't your idea but you left us far too soon. 

Let's take a minute and think about who we want to have the power over those of us on that pale blue dot that looks like a speck of dust on the computer screen.

Not just the humans. The cats. The dogs. The lions. The shrimp. The whales. All the rest of those breathing, swimming, existing on this tiny speck in a sun beam. From the late, great Cassini space craft. It's part of Saturn now.


Unless unless enough voters in Alabama still have enough self respect, conscience and brain cells to rub together. This latest unspeakable excuse for Roy Moore's campaign.  And from a woman. A WOMAN! Lady these are your sisters, daughters, the daughters of your neighbors and friends. What were you THINKING! Were you thinking at all or are we talking Stepford Wives??????

I can hear defense attorneys all over the country. Think of all the people my client didn't kill. Think of all the banks my client didn't rob. Think of all______ hell fill in the blanks for yourself.

Anyone who knows me knows that I have a, shall we say, off the wall sense of humor. Picture the family room up on the other side of the Pearly Gates. Or whatever belief system you follow.

"Dad you sent the prophets. Too many didn't get the message. You sent me. How can people who claim to believe the message I brought COME UP WITH THIS KIND OF CRAP?????" And before I'm accused of blasphemy remember what happened to the money changers. And that little speech about whited sepulchers.

Note: I get my voice back. Make a couple of plans for entries and all heaven breaks loose. There will be a slight delay in the action while I do some reposting. I know I'm really speaking to the choir be maybe I'll get lucky.


I don't know that any anglo can feel for the land the way a member of the first nations can. I do know that there are two places in Oregon where I feel "rooted." Coming up Highway 58 just before you hit Oakridge. You make a curve and the mountains are there. Right in front of me. And I'm home. 

The other is on the Oregon coast. Anywhere the basalt meets the sea. Poseidon Earthshaker would be right at home.

"The Indian knows his village and feels for his village as no white man for his country, his town, or even for his own bit of land. His village is not the strip of land four miles long and three miles wide that is his as long as the sun rises and the moon sets. The myths are the village and the winds and the rains. The river is the village and the black and white killer whats that herd the fish to end of the inlet the better to gobble them. The village is the salmon who comes up the river to spawn, the seal who follows the salmon and bites off his head, the blue jay whose name is like the sound he makes 'Kwiss-kwiss.' The village is the talking bird, the owl, who calls the name of the man who is about to die, and the silver tipped grizzly who ambles into the village and the white speck that is the mountain goat on Whoop Szo."  The "noisy mountain" on the other side of the river. Named Noisy because it usually has snow and that snow comes thundering down the mountain during the spring thaws. 

And the Bishop had been silent for a moment before he added slowly. "This is the village. If you go there, from the time you tie up at the float in the inlet, the village is you. Bout there is one thing you must understand. They will not thank you. Even if you should leave a broken man they will not thank you. There is no word for thank you in Kwakwala." (the local dialect)

And the title of the book is literally that. Somehow the owl calls the name of a person about to die. I probably first read this book back in the seventies. And each time it's like the first. 

Sunday, December 3, 2017


to roast Michael Flynn and rest of Current Occupant's crew, or at least see Flynn lose his pension and do brig time  it probably won't happen.

See this entry from the FB page of Jim Wright of Stonekettle Station. You'll need to scroll down a bit to find the entry he made on December 1. It's worth the trouble.

Mr. Wright is a retired Navy Warrant Officer. The face book entry explains in DETAIL why he waited until he was retired before starting his admittedly very political blog. You don't have to agree with him. Just be polite and have the facts to back up why you don't agree with him. Although he has been known to string along a troll just for the fun of it before pitching him or her out the air lock. And his FB page has a we'd like to be your friend waiting list about ten miles long. Darn it.

The series JAG did a whole episode on "contemptuous words." Season six or seven if memory serves. My take is that for the military to intervene the action(s) would have to be illegal under Uniform Code of Military Justice while Flynn was on active duty or in the active reserves. As much as some of us would love to see that happen I suspect it won't because he really was a civilian at the time.

Saturday, December 2, 2017


I will get back to me. Honest. And it's not that it's that painful some of it is. But that's not all there is to my life and I refuse to let it BE my life to the exclusion of everything else.

Anyway, picked up a battered replacement for a wonderful little novel that came out in the seventies. Author's name was Margaret Craven. The title? I Heard the Owl Call My Name. It's set in British Columbia. The point of view is that of a young vicar sent out as a sort of circuit rider. Only instead of a horse he has a boat. His church is in a first nations village, but his parish takes in a much larger area of sea, inlets and rivers (if you haven't heard of first nations it's the Canadian term for the folks that were  living in this part of the world when they were "discovered'').

Over the months he learns to make his way in a culture that is as alien to the average white as say China was to Marco Polo. There is a Kingcome river. There is a village that is called Kingcome. It's native name is a tongue twister and there's more than one version of the tribal name. The version easiest on the tongue and throat is Kwakiutl.

Find the novel if you can or at least read the plot line in Wickipedia.

I love reading one star reviews on Amazon. The "this is boring." The "I just couldn't get into it.""I had to read it for lit class and I hated it." I especially love the "I bailed after the first ten pages." Geez, the vicar hasn't even qualified to run the boat himself, much less discovered his wreck of a parsonage. It's been awhile since there has been a minister in the area.

I'm not first nations. I don't live near the ocean. I don't have to depend on the tide to come and go. But I did grow up in a small valley in the Cascade foothills. We did depend on what we could grow, preserve, freeze, and make ourselves to get by. And no matter what folks think about the dams there were a few times when we couldn't get out of town because a flood had taken out the bridge at Deception Creek just northwest of Oakridge.

We watched the seasons. We depended on the seasons to live. All the years my dad was  a logger he never worked a full year. It was too hot and dry. Or too wet and muddy. Or too much snow. And mom met him in the laundry room more than once with clean clothes. Sometimes she had to hang his clothes on the line and hose them down before she could wash them. At least that old wringer washer drained from the bottom so she could get the mud out of the machine. And the list of injuries would take a blog entry all by itself.

It was our life. It just was. And I will get back to this a lot faster than the other thing. Promise. Funny thing about writing. I start out and find out I''m going along for the ride. As usual this will resemble a batch of bread dough. It takes time. Has to be worked on and probably will end up coming out of the bowl and taking over the story. LOL

Thursday, November 30, 2017


does come up in one of the episodes. As in "if I took a drink every time I thought I needed it I'd be drunk by noon." Or words to that effect.

And one thing you will notice if you do start watching these episodes. The smoking. Lots and lots of smoking. Robert Lansing was a four pack a day smoker. He's the guy in the dark with the brandy bottle. 

So was Ike so the stories go. Smoking. I don't know what his booze preference was or how much he drank.


what do I do about that?" Commander of a group of B17's to his wing commander. Who is also a friend Average crew size ten men including the pilots. Average age? Late teens to early to mid twenties. We asked a lot of those young men. Most of them came through. Another episode later. 

As usual my blog entries tend to jump around. I've been watching old Twelve O'Clock High reruns on YouTube. I remember watching this show as a kid. Didn't realize it at the time but Twelve O'Clock High is probably unique.

Started out as a novel written by two writers who actually saw air combat during WWII. And the novel is out of print at this time. And used copies are going fast. 

 Spawned a hit movie starring Gregory Peck. A war movie that didn't show much war until the last twenty minutes or so. When the group commander had a break down. Too much sky. Too much flack. Too many gauntlets hosted by the Luftwaffe. Too many crews that didn't come back. Too many friends that didn't come back. Too many letters home to their families.

The film spawned the series. A show about war that spent more time covering the costs than it did showing explosions. Ran two and half seasons. Viet Nam was heating up. The WWII generation was aging out. And since the show was trying to follow the actual time line of the war and D Day had happened I"m not sure how long it would have gone on anyway. Send them to the Pacific. Different planes. Different war. Probably need a whole new cast. 

Anyway. Here is a link to one of the best episodes.  Hope this works. The best parts start around the middle. Heavy on the truth telling and the responsibilities of command. Yeah that part went right over my head the first time. 

Now? When I look around? Heaven help us because we seem to have forgotten how to help ourselves.

(I checked. The link works but it takes you to the middle. Take the time to watch from the beginning. The general is sitting in the dark with a bottle of brandy for a good reason. At least from his point of view. If he isn't writing the letters home he still has to sign them. And remember.)

Wednesday, November 29, 2017


NO I haven't forgotten my story but this song is as true now as it was in  the  mid eighties when Jackson Browne wrote this. Perhaps even truer. 

"Lives In The Balance"

I've been waiting for something to happen
For a week or a month or a year
With the blood in the ink of the headlines
And the sound of the crowd in my ear
You might ask what it takes to remember
When you know that you've seen it before
Where a government lies to a people
And a country is drifting to war
And there's a shadow on the faces
Of the men who send the guns
To the wars that are fought in places
Where their business interest runs

On the radio talk shows and the T.V.
You hear one thing again and again
How the U.S.A. stands for freedom
And we come to the aid of a friend
But who are the ones that we call our friends
These governments killing their own?
Or the people who finally can't take any more
And they pick up a gun or a brick or a stone
There are lives in the balance
There are people under fire
There are children at the cannons
And there is blood on the wire

There's a shadow on the faces
Of the men who fan the flames
Of the wars that are fought in places
Where we can't even say the names

They sell us the President the same way
They sell us our clothes and our cars
They sell us every thing from youth to religion
The same time they sell us our wars
I want to know who the men in the shadows are
I want to hear somebody asking them why
They can be counted on to tell us who our enemies are
But they're never the ones to fight or to die
And there are lives in the balance
There are people under fire
There are children at the cannons
And there is blood on the wire