"Fires in the northland * floods to the south
Put the pedal to the metal * and let it all hang out"
Thursday, April 9, 2009
The Natives are Restless
Yesturday was an interesting day. It was errand running day, and I stopped for breakfast at the Fat Hen Grill, recommended by a friend. It was good southern cooking, and I perused the paper, reading about our corrupt politicians, various shootings and killings throughout the area, and a 20 year old girl who drowned her baby in Lake Ponchartrain after giving birth alone in a bedroom.
It's been a while since I've read or watched the news, and I wasn't as desensitized to it as I used to be. I felt very sad. After a while, a man in the medical profession sat a few stools down, and started talking to the waitress about health care. They were both angry about the cost of treatments and prescriptions, and talked about how the medical system didn't give a crap about people, we were just there to make money for it. The man said the heads of Big Pharma ought to be stripped and hung from their male parts. I almost voiced my agreement at this point, but when I open my mouth lately, it tends to run away and spook the sheeple. I just stared at my grits, and thought about how it doesn't have to be this way.
After the bank, the Salvation Army (to dump the rest of my stuff), and the tobacco shop (ACK! a can of roll yer own is up to $40, from $18 a month ago), I was passing by the bar where my friend works. I stopped in to see if she was there. I was worried about her, she had to file chapter 13 bankruptcy to avoid foreclosure. Her world seemed to be crumbling, and I hoped to comfort her.
She was not at the bar, so after chatting with the regulars, I left. I stepped out the door, and a train was coming down the tracks next to the bar. The hair rose on my neck and arms when I saw the train was loaded with tanks. There seemed to be about 4 different models, probably about 40 tanks in all. They looked like they had been sitting out of service for a while, and were followed by a tanker of phosphoric acid (used to remove rust). The train was headed north.
After a productive afternoon of finish work on the van, I was watching the History channel. In a series about the 7 deadly sins, they were on envy. It raised some interesting questions. Is envy learned or hard wired? Can certain types of envy be good? They cited the French Revolution as envy of the rich by the poor, and the betrayal/murder of Caesar as envy for Caesar's power.
I don't think revolution is produced by envy. I think it's produced by the downtrodden and oppressed finally defending themselves against the oppressors. But maybe that's just my proletarian viewpoint...
Watch out PTB, even the sheeple now want you strung up by your male parts.....
I am a militant hippie, an conservative liberal, a practical dreamer, an empath who is fundamentally selfish, a butch femme straight chick that likes auto repair and a multiverse of other contradictions who is still stuggling to be a responsible master of our destiny.
I use lots of nasty chemicals on this blog. It should go without saying, but it is always the responsibility of the individual to READ THE LABEL and use products safely. These are my experiences. You should always take what I say with a grain of salt. If you want real tech support, visit the product's website. They have lots more highly paid lawers than I do. I will not be held responsible for someone else's stupidity, only for my own. And for chrissakes, keep your kids and pets away from this stuff.