It is a time of freedom and fear, of Gaia and of borders, of many paths and the widening of a universal toll road, emptying country and swelling cities, of the public bought into privacy and the privacy of the public sold into invisible data banks and knowing algorithms. It is the time of the warrior's peace and the miser's charity, when the planting of a seed is an act of conscientious objection.
These are the times when maps fade and direction is lost. Forwards is backwards now, so we glance sideways at the strange lands through which we are all passing, knowing for certain only that our destination has disappeared. We are unready to meet these times, but we proceed nonetheless, adapting as we wander, reshaping the Earth with every tread.
Behind us we have left the old times, the standard times, the high times. Welcome to the irregular times.
Saturday, April 12, 2003
Mother Davis hastily makes a cross on her chest as she heretically considers,
I'm reading about U.S. Secretary of Education Rod Paige's statement that he'd put his kids in a Christian school because he's uneasy about exposing his children to a place where there are "so many different kids with different kinds of values" from those of the Christian community.
First, is the U.S. Education Secretary really telling parents to pull their kids out of public schools on account of the fact that public schools are not Christian enough?
Second, should we rename the White House Office of Faith-Based Initiatives? I'm thinking that it ought to be called the Office of Faith-Biased Initiatives instead.
Going to confession to purge myself of these dangerously heterodox thoughts,
Wednesday, April 09, 2003
In the spring, the Canada geese, when they back come down into the black muckland to rest after a day in the fields, theyíll come out of the sky in that beautiful V pattern people know them for.
Well, it looks like theyíve got everything together and theyíre all set for a beautiful touchdown and all, and then, maybe thirty or so feet above the water, the first couple of birds kind of flip over, turning on their sides all of a sudden.
Itís turbulence in the air that makes them do it, and they canít see it coming. The air looks the same to them, no matter how fast itís moving. So, even though they come in to the same pond every evening, they flip over every time. Itís different every night. They have no idea when itís going to come.
Itís the same way on down the formation. The first birds at the head turn over, then the next pair on down the line, and the next pair, and the next, all the way down, right to the end of the line. It doesnít do any good for them to see the bird in front of them get hit. They canít anticipate. They canít learn from the bird ahead. Each one falls just like the one before.
Iíve never seen a goose get hurt by it, that wind that hits them as theyíre coming in toward the ground. Each one, after they get tossed, turns itself right around again and sets down in the water just fine. I donít think they plan the recovery either, so much as they just do what comes naturally until they feel safe again.
Monday, April 07, 2003
Your Tax Dollars At Work...
|"They didn't care. They just attacked the picket line. They declared it an illegal assembly and gave people two minutes to disperse. The police did not move to arrest anyone, they just started shooting.''|
~ Steve Stallone, spokesman for the International Longshore and Warehouse Union and witness to Oakland Police action against peace protesters at the Port of Oakland. Police fired bean bags, tear gas, BBs and wooden dowels at activists engaged in civil disobedience.
Source: Associated Press, 4/7/2003
|Meanwhile, the Independent of London helps put this all in perspective:|