The GOP's case for the a$$a$$ination of the pr3sid3nt

Disclaimer (part 1)-- I in NO WAY endorse or plan to endanger the life of George W. Bush. Those that know me also know that i am a pacificist, and would rather watch him rot at the bottom of a well for the rest of his life.

Disclaimer (part 2)-- I in no way intend to become a blog that focuses solely on conspiracies, for example the stealing of the elections in 2000 and 2004, the plan to destroy er um rebuild New Orleans, and that whole looking the other way while the WTC was demolished... by detonators... planted in the building... ANNNYwhooo...

Disclaimer (part 3)-- This is all speculative, even though it will happen. (Let it be known that since the time George Bush said he would run for president and i proclaimed, "we're going to Iraq," i have been batting a thousand when it comes to predicting this administration's next move. So i am willing to throw all of that credibility out the door to go out on the biggest limb i can find and say the following...)

The (PNAC) Republican Party is going to "murder" their own president.

Let's begin with basics...

•Poll numbers in all areas are dropping. Not that it matters, in fact it doesn't. These guys never cared about polls. But they do care about elections... especially the one in 08. And right now they are hemorrhaging.

•Scandal is imminent. Come January, what was bad is going to get worse. The Democrats are back and they are pissed. More than one house judiciary investigation is looming, as well as possible impeachment.

•Impeachment means bad things. There is a big difference from the impeachment of Bill Clinton (who at the time had a 72% approval rating), and what would be the impeachment of George Bush. A guy impeached for a blow job is a running joke, whereas a guy impeached for falsifying evidence to start a war so that he could bankrupt a treasury and give it to his pals should just start running.

•Nobody likes a fake war starter or a thief. And it's kinda hard to pump any real feeling into a new candidate like McCain or Giuliani when all their mojo was based on a fake war and no one really feels like rallying behind the 9-11 cry anymore because of that whole fake link to the fake war thing. Kinda makes those guys seem, well... you get it.

•The GOP needs a new 9-11. Operation: Reinvention Through Distraction. Bush gets killed. By any of the millions upon billions of people in the world that now absolutely despise him (that's an easy one). Weep Weep. Parades. Media 24/7 for weeks (the media might even invent more hours in the day for such an occasion...). Bumper stickers: RIP Patriot Hero Cowboy. Mother Fing flags everywhere (again). Fox News: Democrats Happy the President is Murdered? And the mojo comes back...

•And all scandals go away. (Think Ken Lay. Remember him? Of course you don't. He "died" too. He went from future convict to dead and out of memory all in 3 days.) Personally, i am willing to try a green corpse in Bush's case, i dont care. Prop him up on the stand and swear his dead ass in. But in reality, it would all come to a stand still. An entire bible of how to destroy a nation... burned. And a congress mired in "grief"... dems would have no way of doing anything... again.

•New mojo, no dead weight... now it's time to bring in the secret weapon. Hello...... Jeb. Remember him? Don't tell me he won't run. Don't tell me the Bushs' don't want a "dynasty" so bad they can taste it. As my mother pointed out to me earlier, the only thing they are missing is sacrifice. The Kennedy's had it. And there is only one way to get it (when your family is too chickenshit to fight in their own fake war).

•Speaking of Kennedy's... Daddy knows this drill all too well. GHWB was head of the CIA... involved waaay back when JFK was shot. (and Martin. and Bobby. and...) Let's just say the CIA was a bit more involved back then, and Daddy knows how to get things done.

•Would they kill him? Or would they just fake it... That is the question. I mean, it would be so easy to just get some good CG effects and fly him off to some place remote, like South America, in the middle of the night. Never to be heard from again. That reminds me...

•Remember when i said the fake war starting theif president should start running? Well, the running has already started. Recently George is reported to have purchased 99,000 acres of land in Paraguay. You know, where all the celebrities go. It's a regular who's who of political hob knobbers down there, like so and so and what's his face... whatever. (you all go ahead and type Bush and Paraguay into google and find your own reference links).

•(An interesting sidenote... Paraguay is where the Nazis fled as well. It's true, I'm just sayin!)

Well, as they say... Sweet Jesus, ain't nothing better than a martyr!! (nobody ever really said that.) There are a hell of a lot more reasons why this is the perfect solution for the GOP. And when i say GOP i don't mean GOP. I mean this evil that has taken over the GOP and now taken over the nation. (google PNAC)

Those that will say i am spouting conspiracy also take their kids to see Santa Clause AND then fight the War on Christmas. They believe George Bush is a cowboy and the GOP is full of manly men. This is what we are dealing with here. Then they call me the idealist.

This government has been able to hide a civil war, make invisible the returning caskets of dead soldiers , render irrelevant the murder of hundreds of thousands of Iraqi civilians... what exactly makes you think they can't do it to just one man?



One last election video to top off the election week...

and who better to say all that doesn't need to be said...



The Long Nightmare is Over.

That's right kids, Brittney and KFed are getting divorced.



Rewriting History

Voting... the last, desperate act of a desperate man.

Tomorrow is the single most important day in the history of this country. It is indeed the first day of the rest of our lives.

Tomorrow we find out if voting, our last thread of hope in this thing called democracy, is lost with the rest of it.

Look, i don't care if you are a republican (aka independent or libertarian now) or a democrat. If you are an american and don't vote, you don't get to talk about any issue in this country. That is my own NEW RULE. I have no time to discuss anything with you. Your opinion means shit to me. The right to vote is the real freedom (not just a word). People have marched, fought and died for centuries so that we could have a say in our lives. If you live here and you don't vote, you don't deserve to call yourself an American. You are the immigrant. Your mom accidentally dropped you here and you are just visiting.

Is that harsh? Yes. But if i had a dollar for every argument i've gotten sucked into only to find out that the jackass doesn't even vote... well it would probably be equal to all the dollars i'd have from republicans who, upon losing the argument, said to me, "well, i consider myself more of a libertarian anyway..."

Do I really think the electronic voting machine thing is going to come into play? I dunno. But if they are willing to do this...

i wouldn't put anything past them.

Vote. I don't know if it matters. Just try. One last time. Put the message in the bottle, and hope that it gets found.

PS. Put the contents of that bottle into some tuperware beforehand so that you can drink it tomorrow night... regardless of the outcome of said vote.



Election Week Video of the Day: more Hacking

(so do we all see the pattern here? Election videos till the big day... I've got to much coming into my brain to really have time for the outputting here... so let these do the talking)


Election Week Video of the Day...



How to Hack/Stop voting machines...

No amount of marching in the streets is more important than just witnessing the information in this video.

A democratic legislator recently received discs in the mail anonymously that could be used to hack into a Diebold machine. Suddenly ABC was reporting that the elections might be skewed. That's all it took for this article... one politician receiving a disc. (this is important to remember)

A week ago i was reading Harper's Index and I came across this statistic: "Minutes it took a Princeton researcher to hack into a Diebold voting machine in September: 1"

Now, what occured to me was that the reason voting box hacking has been successful is that only the people doing the hacking have the combination. In other words, a thief never wants his methods to be discovered, as then they can be blocked. This administration doesn't want people to have the combination to the safe --not because people would use it to do "bad" things-- but because it will render their system of corruption useless.

Solution: Give everyone the combination.

If everyone has access to the combination, whether or not it is ever used to hack anything, it renders the system obsolete. I repeat, no hacking will ever have to be done. Case in point: the attention given to just one ex democratic legislator who received the discs with the combination.

Let's say EVERY politician, on both sides of the line was sent discs with the combination... and then every voter... stacks available at polling stations. Imagine the possibilities -- imagine the outcome. How could any result from any machine ever be considered accurate? How could a government in their right mind continue to use this system? And how could a people support said government?

FAQs (well not yet, but im assuming...):

•Isn't that information already on the internet?
Yes, in different locations you can see videos of people doing it. And there are what looks like several techniques. However, there are direct ways... codes/blackberrys/even a flashdrive... that can be used as well. It must also be noted that even though it is on the internet, people are still brutally unaware. It is our job to distribute the information.

Our only technique in fighting voting machines has been to point at the problem and scream about it. Letters to politicians, protests, etc. To no virtually no effect. We need to take a page out of Karl's playbook: to solve a problem, just create a bigger problem.

Imagine this information being spread around like Paris Hilton's sex video, and there you have it.

•So how do you plan on getting the information?
How does anyone get a CD before it is released... it's out there. With a simple google search i found the researcher at Princeton who hacked the machines in September. His name is Edward Felten. I encourage you to watch this demo, and read his paper and perhaps even write him an email. Again, it's out there.

•Is spreading this information illegal?
Honestly I have no idea. But i can't imagine getting arrested for more noble a cause. We are not trying to subvert democracy, we are trying to save it. And as we know, lives are on the line here. Not allowing people the information on voter box hacking is like the government withholding the evidence of how cigarettes can kill you. They still want you to smoke... They still want you to vote... they know full well that both are bad for your health, but they make money so...

To keep in mind: The reason there is hardly any talk, and even less action, against voting machines is that they continue to work just fine for half the population. We can kick and scream all we like, but until it could possibly effect everyone, nothing will be done.... When you are on the freeway, and an accident happens blocking traffic in the left two lanes, the right two lanes continue to flow --usually with the thought, "sucks to be them".

But if there is a chance that one of the cars in that accident might explode... no one tries to pass. So get out of your cushy cars and spread the word: Democracy is burning, and the flame is about to reach the fuel tank. Sharing this information will save lives.


It's gonna be a fun week in the US

Orwell, eat your heart out...

This video is old. Nearly two years old. But have you seen it on TV?

American computer programmer Clinton Eugene Curtis is seen in this video testifying under oath in front of the U.S. House Judiciary Members in Ohio.



New Rule.....



Coming Home in a Box

What... oh yes, blogging. Well then here i am and here we are and there it all is. I don't know why, but sometimes i just have to take a breather from this whole blog thing.

So, without going into a big ol' story about it all. The fence project, this project, was taken down last month.

Two men on an unnamed crew came and snipped all the names down. A few community members came and gathered it all up, delivering it to the local paper. The local paper dropped it back on my doorstep.

All of the notes and signs and flags and 2500+ tags, in this box seen above. They came just like this. And so, with a nod to Edward Keinholz, I entered it into the 2007 Juried Carlsbad Biennial. I'll keep everyone posted as to whether or not it gets accepted. (my other entries included the Color By Numbers painting below and the Kneeler...)

Now, the tearing down of the "memorial" became quite an ordeal, and again much was learned. People criticized the owner of the lot thinking he was responsible. His name is Hassan, so people wrote in to the paper that he ought to go back to Tehran. And suddenly all of these other new critiques came along saying the fence was an eyesore and good riddance. (i thought it at least a little prettier than most of the streets in Falluja right about now, but what do i know...)

I wrote this letter to the paper in an effort to settle something... but it was too long and they wouldn't print it. I guess searching through all of those letters and putting them one by one into the press is a bit tedious... Anyway, what's a blog for if you can't publish thoughts people won't read. Here you go... My "good night and good luck" moment that never was...

We are the couple responsible for hanging the tags which began the "makeshift war memorial" on the fence outlining the abandoned gas station at the corner of PCH and Cassidy in South Oceanside. We feel it is important to write this in an attempt to assuage the negativity we have been reading in response to recent articles about the site's removal, and return the focus where it belongs.

It was never our intention to make "a war memorial" nor to protest the current war. Our purpose in writing and hanging the tags onto the fence was to demarcate a public space where a community's thoughts and emotions could live and breathe, and to create some reminder other than the practice shells of Camp Pendleton rattling our windows from time to time.

Not sure the tags would remain three hours let alone three years, we were amazed to see the community embrace the fence. People hung flowers, flags, and notes to their loved ones, creating their own experience. All of which remained and grew until recently.

We ask there be no ill will toward owner Hassan Sadeghi as to the removal of the site. We spoke with Hassan after the first year the fence was up. He was very willing to help in any way, and would never have purposely taken the names down.

People have written comments to this paper saying this "was not a real memorial", but merely an "eyesore" that "destructed private property". Yes, the tags crumbled and the flowers shrivelled and the flags were in tatters. It seems gas stations and memorials, like soldiers, will pass. But be sure we make no apologies for how this space may have served to interrupt your days with a moment of grief, anger, or warm heart. These old tags, flowers and flags, were neither an eyesore nor an act of destruction. War, on the other hand, is both. We pointed to the war, yet some continue to stare at our finger.

We now know it is imperative the city has a space to honor the memory of the fallen soldiers, most of whom passed through Oceanside during their training. The fence has taught us even the simplest of acts can serve. We have also seen the importance of having a site that values the lives of real people like the Vietnam Memorial in D.C., as opposed to one that celebrates war like a forgotten obelisk. And we must keep in mind the difference between a place that honors people, and one built for a city's PR and marketing. The difference between a space that has come from the hearts of the community, and one built and labeled " war memorial".

We took a step to create the community we want to live in because it was the responsible thing to do. The community responded and took the next steps to keep it going. Left to the city council to make our city for us, the focus will be on what can bring revenue, and Oceanside could become a mall indistinguishable from any other city in America. As a community, we are responsible for envisioning and shaping the meaning and beauty we want in our world. To us, this is the true sense of "freedom" American's have fought so hard for, and ultimately this will bring the greatest revenue.



A small post that could just change your life

A new friend introduced this to me a couple days ago, and i am in absolute awe. Finally, a reason for the internet...

This project is going to change music listening as we know it. Imagine being able to shape radio to exactly the kind of mood you are in, but without being tied to your same old boring collection... this is it... welcome to "God's iPod". (Say goodbye to the next 3 hours of your life)


Oh yeah... the best part... it's free. I have my laptop connected to my stereo running all day long... i am in love.



oil on canvas. 8 x 10"

this was another wee painting i just finished that i thought i would share. i seem to like having these kinds of paintings going along with anything else in the studio. It is more the place i just get to "paint" and kind of take my mind out of it. The practice of being fully absorbed.

I came to this rather huge and really minor revelation yesterday: true awareness has nothing to do with worry. And they shant coexist or be con-fused.

(and for those keeping score at home, i said shant)



Reconstruction, Inc.

Ashes connects the dots perfectly.

What is amazing is that most liberals and democrats and republicans(dormant) still don't understand this. They are still in some state of "shock" that this administration wouldn't send enough troops, wouldn't have an exit strategy, wouldn't arm the troops they did send, would ignore osama bin laden altogether, would cover up every report of terror on the rise... and on and on... all the way back to: would turn their heads before the towers fell and ignore the warnings. All the way back to: would do anything they could to steal an election.

I guess people just don't understand yet. They can't imagine a world where you weren't trying to win the war you were fighting. It just goes against all reasoning, right? But...

Problem fixers need problems. When your business is Reconstruction, you need destruction. What's the best way to get all the destruction you want? Take over the biggest military force the world has ever known and use it to your liking. All you need then is the tiniest bit of public support (around 30%) easily obtained with one terrorist attack, a buttload of fear and a media outlet to spread it. And ta-da... Reconstruction, Inc.

They won't win this war, but they are not losing. Their goal is neither, and losing is for the rest of us. Let me be as clear as possible here. This administration is not trying to win anything.

Bush has said this war will not end on his watch (perhaps the only time he hasn't lied). Any cleanup will have to be done on the next administration's watch. And by then, Bush and all his cronies will be long gone like the Grinch on Christmas morning (except that we won't start singing and they won't have any change of heart). The recent bills being signed are all dedicated to covering their tracks. Pardons all around, boys...

And no... it's not just "over there". The news says a wall is suddenly imperative between mexico and the US. So they will build one. Levees were once needed in New Orleans, and Bush cut the funding just before the last levee (the one that broke) was finished. Just like 9-11, reports warned about the possible damage a hurricane could inflict. But they ignored those too. And now, as soon as all those pesky poor black people give up, Reconstruction, Inc. can start building the New Orleans they have planned, oil rigs and casinos abound. And then there's the threat of global warming... lots of unfortunate accidents that will need attending to...

As long as there is a threat, there is money to be made (irrespective of the legitimacy of said threat).



in tact in ruins

everything in tact/everything in ruins
oil and ink on canvas. 5x5'

This is the painting i just finished. The next in the "color by numbers" series i have been working with. First parts are here and here.

Some of what i was starting to think about can be read here too. The color by numbers part of the painting i took from the New York Times front page of Bush giving the first issues of the "Medal of Freedom" to George Tenet (the head of the CIA who helped forge the intelligence to go to war with Iraq), General Tommy Franks (who engineered the invasion and take over of Iraq) and Paul Bremer (CEO of the occupation of Iraq). So basically we have... the king, the liar, the pirate and the thief.

What I am seeing now is that, while it is important to have works that have so much going on, there is also room to have short stories to go with the novels. I tend to make each painting the painting that says it all... the big one. Whereas in this painting i can see now that i could just work with phrases rather than complete paragraphs. As seen in the detail photos below, each one of these could be its own painting, perhaps less verbose and more poetic in the end. (I have been thinking about this for awhile now, but it is so funny how the mind works. My initial thoughts were to just make the paintings smaller, but then i try to fill the small ones too!)

I would much rather leave room for the viewer/participant to enter and find a relationship to the work. Having space to breathe and be. This has been particularly tricky with the color by numbers because there is already so much line involved. This is why I am thinking about taking just fragments of the cbn image to start with. I knew this one would lean more toward the chaotic and obstructive, but felt that might work more to the concept, giving more of a sense of awkwardness and unsteadiness as well.

I wanted to include some detail images here too, as the small version of this painting really doesn't do it justice at all. These portions are giving me my new ideas on future possibilities.




Some people I meet, i just want to keep in a room somewhere so that i can visit them whenever i want. My favorites... my heroes and my inspriration.

I had just stepped off the plane in Edinburgh in 1999, the first time I met Alero Olympio. I had never been there, but i was going to stay for two months on a painting commission just before a residency in Italy. She had come to pick me up.

I had asked her before hand, "How will i know you when i get there?"

To which she replied, "You will... trust me."

And sure enough as i looked around the crowded baggage claim, i knew it was her. A black dot in a sea of white, with the biggest smile i had ever seen. We knew each other instantly.

Alero Olympio, a name just worthy enough for a face and a presence so seraphic. Eyes that knew everything about you from the moment you met. Some sense of joy just spilling from her. Beaming as if she knew all the secrets, and it was all going to be okay.

Alero came from Ghana to Scotland, an architect and a true artist. She made what she called "eco-mansions", or large housing projects that utilized the the local materials, in a way that was environmentally safe and efficient. She found a way to make her own bricks in Ghana without firing them, using a hydraulic press, and worked on making houses that were completely solar powered. And in many of her works she found a way to use dicarded materials, such as the leftover black cores from trees used to mill paper. All of this, spoken of with a passion.

Alero fought cancer for 6 years. When i met her she was recovering from the radiation treatment of a large tumor in her womb. A friend of mine the year earlier had dowsed her house with two copper rods to discover that she might be having some complications. She found the tumor soon after. The doctors inserted two rods into her and plugged her in to a machine that sent the radiation straight into the tumor for long periods of time, coming in to check on her wearing space suits for protection. And she survived.

I went off to the residency soon after where i painted a portrait of her from my head, her story and her being inspiring me. It would be one of the most important paintings i have ever done, painting in a new way ... realizing a new way of being in myself. In the painting she is holding two rods, to represent the dowsing/radiation rods, and she is standing between the cores of her discarded trees. She is backlit, casting her shadow back on to me, allowing me and inviting me to see my own shadow in her. She opens the door to a new place.

On my recent trip to the UK that i spoke of earlier, i stopped with my Uncle (who had introduced us) to say hi. I was very upset as we approached the house. The soft blue-green door said "healing" to me and comforted me slightly. No one answered. We left a note and went home to the US. Two days ago her partner sent us an email saying that Alero had passed away this past year.

I'm so sad and angry and hurt and i know its going to be okay but it's not right now. A light in my world has gone out and all i can do is tell the rest of the world about her, my way of holding on and letting go. I want to love everyone i meet to the fullest, and i want to stay in my house and not meet anyone. All the politicians i see on TV right now, i want to yell at them and tell them that i have figured out that there are people in this world that are worth 1000 of them, and no matter how many countries they bomb, or cities they flood, or towers they crash into they will never ever have what my friend had. Ever.

crying ... breathing...

Look how beautiful my friend was. Hear her words in this interview. That's all i want to say.

Well, that and.... good bye, Alero. You will always be in my room of favorite people.






The reason i was in the UK.

I have been receiving bags of fanmail (mostly from Europe, where i'm huge) asking me, "why exactly were you just in Scotland a few weeks ago anyway?"

I was hired to go take photos of a golf course in development on the East Lothian coastline of Scotland, also known as "the cradle of golf". Now i can already hear you art nerd cynics out there going, "ewwwww golf??? how borrrring". And that's sad really, but understandable. Chalk golf up as yet another thing that americans have pirated, gutted, and frakensteined into some new monster cash cow with virtually no soul. The truth is, if you go back to the roots of the game, beneath all the bullshit that has been piled on top since, you will find one of the greatest games that Nature ever provided.

Nature? Yes, i said Nature. The Firth of Forth, a bay in the east of Scotland, is lined with sand dunes. Over time a grass became strong enough to tame those ever shifting dunes, locking them in a frozen undulation. Rabbits burrowed their homes there, feeding on the grass. When you walk the dunes still in Scotland, you see that the grass is mown with machine like precision to nearly half an inch high... Add all this to the primal human instinctual need to place things in holes (and pass time) and there you have it: Golf. Hitting rocks to rabbit holes with sticks over rabbit mown fairways on grass covered dunes.

Since, men have figured a way to tack on lots of bullshit to the game... making it elitist, exclusive, expensive and environmentally exhaustive. Sounds a bit like art, eh? And like art (and most things), underneath all of the constructs and destructs and dump trucks, something pure is still there. Something worth knowing and participating in.

Because golf is a practice, like yoga, spiritual and physical, that teaches one how to align mind and body all in conjunction with the natural world. All of the principles, all of the information for our Selves, is in golf.

Now there are some Americans trying to get back to the roots of the game. Golf course architect Tom Doak and his crew are an excellent example. They have crumpled up and recycled the American formula for CAD drawn golf courses. Tom spent much of his young life playing the courses of Scotland and studying all of the original mastery of courses hundreds of years old. He has surrounded himself with people that share the same love and have the same creativity and concern for the future of the game and the future of our planet, and together they make courses that are not only environmentally sound, but would make Andy Goldsworthy look like color by numbers.

In fact, walking Tom's course mid process, listening as he and his coworkers speak about all of their intents and purposes, seeing it all without a time worn social construct, i couldn't help but think that this was one of the greatest contemporary works i've seen in years.

So here are the photos. There are lots so browse as you like or not at all. My intent was to capture just the slimmest impressions of a work in the middle of its process. Just to get the hints of what is going to make this course, like all Tom's work, so amazing.



The Price of Oil.

Well with a title like that, for sure it's gonna be a cheery post. But i gotta do it, just to help it get around, and so i can reference this later for Dickhead Republican Uncle (who is becoming quite the guest star on Nonprophet).

Seems the National Priorities Website (that i found thanks to CnL) has this way of calculating what the US could do with the money that has been used to pay for The Mess in Iraq. Like, instead of "war profiteering disguised as a Freedom March" we could have............. (prepare to weep)

  • 16,733,296 People with Health Care or
  • 627,551 Elementary School Teachers or
  • 4,767,634 Head Start Places for Children or
  • 25,168,314 Children with Health Care or
  • 235,246 Affordable Housing Units or
  • 4,390 New Elementary Schools or
  • 7,685,109 Scholarships for University Students or
  • 616,017 Music and Arts Teachers or
  • 741,482 Public Safety Officers or
  • 117,140,845 Homes with Renewable Electricity or
  • 601,790 Port Container Inspectors

but wait...

that's only counting the money spent by California's taxpayers.
(40.3 Billion... aka 40,300,000,000 or Forty Thousand Three Hundred Millions)

But at least we found the weapons.
At least we caught Osama.
At least we have planted the seeds for a peaceful and democratic Middle East.
At least terror is on the decline.
At least the Iraqi's are free of tyranny and have a working democratic government.
At least they have electricity again?
um..... what day is it?
Well at least we caught Saddam.
In Baghdad... right where we left him.

*At least we were able to pirate a shitload of oil out of the deal so i can continue to gorge myself on cheap gas.



My Grandfather was a modernist...

You scored as Cultural Creative.

Cultural Creatives are probably the newest group to enter this realm. You are a modern thinker who tends to shy away from organized religion but still feels as if there is something greater than ourselves. You are very spiritual, even if you are not religious. Life has a meaning outside of the rational.

Cultural Creative
















What is Your World View?
created with QuizFarm.com



Are we snug yet?

Just getting settled in again. Wasn't feeling all back yet since the Edinburgh airport decided to hang on to some of my stuff for awhile. Ugh. I really don't want to get into a rant, but i will say this: it's all a freaking lie, and the security is a joke.

How do i know? Well... from the minute you set foot into the airport last week, all you hear is "no lotions liquids or gels". It almost became kind of funny to us after the 400th time we heard it. Anyway, after the first leg of our trip in Atlanta, after we have been searched three times, my friend pulls a bottle of hand lotion out of his bag. Oops. So then, as our bags are being thoroughly searched again right before getting on the plane, i stick a bottle of water into the front pocket of my pants. Obvious as you can get... they let me go right through. I did the same thing on the way back. No one ever asked me about it. They did however, to their credit, manage to nab my chapstick. (Operation Moistlips foiled!!!)

So there's your secure world, America. Funny thing is, it actually IS secure. (Your odds of dying from lightning being greater than by terrorist action... getting a hole in one about a hundred times greater). But these guys, who are trying to protect you from terror, prefer it that you live in terror. Why? Well... There's this reason. Would they really do that? Yes, they would.

Now, I must say that i'm a bit more annoyed by it all than scared. Inconvenienced rather than fearful. Maybe we should reduce it to a War on Bother? And i am truly vexed when i hear people in the airport smile to the guards while they are turning their head and coughing, saying "well, it's all for a good purpose." No it's not... IT'S BULLSHIT. And that particular thinking is why there are hundreds of Islamic (and other shades of brown) men getting tortured in Cuba right now. And it's why this administration is getting away with illegal wire taps. And it is why they are doing all of it. Because they can. Because we let them.

So, as this shit carries on until November, just like it did in 2002, and 2004.... purring slow and steady, like a heavy cat lying on your chest... code orange... code burnt orange.... code orange... code cha ching... remember: they like it this way. Watered down fascism is the new poison. Hitler had it wrong because he burnt white hot like magnesium and was done just as fast. This is the slow drip. A few arrests here, a bomb over there, a supposed plot over here, a number two guy over there... and on it goes... that leaky faucet that drips just as you were dozing off.

Just annoying enough to stay in power, Big Brother has indeed become the Big Bother.

-more shiny happy positive stuff when i get all my stuff back and settle a bit.



Ay... Goot marnin froom Scoatlen

Well the jetlag has got me totally screwed up at this point. Its about 6 in the morning now and i finally decided enough staring at the ceiling and so here i am. Bleary eyed and blogging. Really worth the price of sleep to see this out the window of the flat i am staying in. That is Bass Rock. You can't see the color here but that is a huge white rock off the coast of North Berwick, on the East Lothian Coast of Scotland, in the Firth of Forth. It is covered, and i mean covered, with birds. Hence the whiteness... At one point in its career as a big rock, it hosted a prison that hosted prisoners that i gaurantee you were, towards the end of their life, deathly scared of anything that flies.

Just over to the left of Bass Rock is Fidra Island. Also now a preserve for birds, Fidra comes from the Scottish word "feathery". Feathery is also the word for the first golf balls, which were to peices of leather sewn together and stuffed with a top hat full of feathers. Took two days to make. i have held one, they are like rocks. Because golf as we know it was born on that coastline you see just next to the island, i have been playing with a theory in my theorymaker that the ballmakers would take a small boat over to the island covered with birds(which i did once, also influencing my theory, and making me deathly scared of seaguls... whole other story) to get their feathers... thus the name "feathery". I think it's a swell theory...

Somewhere during all that, Fidra was the inspiration for Robert Louis Stevenson's Treasure Island. He stood on that beach as a child and making up an entire mythology, one day becoming old enough to take the very small journey over to its rocky shore. Like the story, a boy moving into the world of men.

Fidra was also home to a monastery at one point, long long ago... which is where the old saying came from, "some rocks hold monks, some hold prisoners, seaguls shit on both." You can look it up.

Now global warming is even having a drastic effect on the life inhabiting this small island. The ground is becoming to warm and firm for a certain plant to grow, which the birds used to feed on... and so it goes.

(PS. I'd just like to say that i didn't Google any of that. Just chalk it up as years of research about a friggin rock)



more color by numbers

i don't think i posted these yet, and i meant to a long time ago. These were the paintings i was talking about a ways back that i did for a show and i got sick right in the crucial part. I consider them more sketches now as i learned so much about what i want to get out of this work. These went over well with a lot of people i guess, but for me they just didn't hit the mark i was looking for. I'm getting closer in the studio as we speak.

My issues with this work were that the weight of the color by numbers line was not heavy or absorbtive enough, and the images i painted on top were too tight and therefore didn't settle the right way. I had done many quick sketches on xeroxes that i was pleased with but i knew when it came to painting on top of the canvas with the color by nos. that i was going to really have to be connected to get to the heart of it. Then i got sick and was completely cloudy with the deadline looming. Oi...

Another issue i am having with this is dealing with this set underlying structure of the cbn. i am so used to painting right over the previous layers without care as to what i lose, because i know i can bring it back. But with the cbn, once its gone, its gone. The newer work i am doing now i think deals with this more successfully (at least for the moment).

I have also gathered a lot more about this concept(direction) and where i want to move with it. In the beginning i was speaking mainly about colonialism and absorption. Now I'm thinking a lot about Ideals, what it means to be "in ruins", the American fall from grace... (you can't tell i was once a catholic, can you?)

Anyway, i hate to give such and abbreviated version of this and run, but i gotta get ready for my trip today. There will be more to come soon though....


that other force of nature

I (too) have been reading a lot of what feel like heavy sighs around blogatopia... especially coming from the artsy area.

I remember this same lull when we started bombing in Afghanistan, and then Iraq. And now with the Middle East shit on the rise here we are again. I think we take this very hard as artists, many of us anyway... as it is especially antithetical to who we are and what we are about.

An artist friend of mine has had as her email signature for years, "the opposite of war is not peace, it's creation" (from Jonathon Larson Rent). And so it goes that when the drums start going and the bombs start dropping, we feel as if we have been punched in the sternum, the wind knocked out, and we might have to sit on the curb for a second to regroup.

It's how i always imagined a spider to feel when i bumble through the immaculate web it spent all day weaving. (Except there's no mass murder and i always apologize.)

Deborah Fisher has a good analogy to rock climbing. I would add to it that sometimes we take a moment to pause for tumbling rocks to pass before we resume our ascent (or descent... some of us just want to get back down to sea level).



the lunatics are in my head

i'm back from my trip. had the best time, but i realized yesterday that i'm floating in the blues still. not sure what's going on, but the state of the news looks a lot like the state of my brain.

art powerlines post has clued me into something a bit deeper about my headspace right now.

"What occurs in our neighborhoods is connected to everything. The new sidewalk outside my front door is connected to when Arundhati Roy asked, "Is "democracy" still democratic? What choices to we really have? Kerry, Bush, Gore, Clinton, "it's not a real choice. It's an apparent choice. Like choosing a brand of detergent. Whether you buy Ivory Snow or Tide, they're both owned by Proctor & Gamble." We are all held accountable for every decision our government makes, because even if we didn't vote them in, we are letting them do whatever they want."

i live in a city much like the one she speaks about. At the north end of San Diego County, Oceanside is the corner of the white bathroom the vacuum just can't get to. In its day, oceanside was the wild west, the place you wouldn't tell your parents you were going to surf. As each beautiful coastal town of my childhood gets rennovated to become a caricature of itself, Oceanside sits waiting for the time when it too can become part of Main Street, USA.

And it's coming. Our memorial is coming down by the end of the year to make room for a Starbucks. The first Starbucks in coastal Oceanside. Not only is that sad for obvious reasons but it will do nothing to help my addiction. And just one exit inland on the 78 there is a Walmart, Bed Bath and Beyond, Target, Best Buy, Staples, and Barnes and Noble that serve to block all small business from surviving in South O.

And that's nothing new i know. But that's not what i'm eerily apathetic about.

I guess what i'm getting to here is that it's not just happening to our cities, it's happening to me. this lull that i feel is fueled by thoughts of being overwhelmed and therefore wanting to give up. NO, not give up like toaster in the bathtub give up. More give up like Oliver Stone just did. After all, once you figure out that there is no difference between Ivory and Snow, then why bother?

Man wants to buy a pot for his flowers. Man goes to Walmart (where one in 5 purchases in this country are made) because the small gardening store went out of business. Man sees 5 flower pots that are designed based on the 5 different types of buyers. Blue for male. Red for Female. Tan for young couple. Forest Green for older couple. Lavender for old lady. Old men are dead or don't care. Reduced down to a carefully studied democraphic, he leaves with blue.

How passionate are we supposed to live when we have been reduced down to a carefully studied demographic?

See the community infest me. The parts of me that were once full of life are starting to feel scrapped for megastores, painted flat matte beige or salmon. There is a gentrification going on inside my head that allows me to listen to the blood stained news on my car radio and simultaneously think to myself, "should i get a frappucino or just an ice coffee?" I mean, i'm not quite as fuct as the people that have the audacity to make comments about what a nazi Mel Gibson is while we murder innocent "towel heads" every day, but maybe that's next? Is it a slippery slope to a gated community at 32 years old? If you stare at the sun to long will you blind? Should you really not eat before you swim? Is my dickhead republican uncle right with that saying with which he always ended our arguments: "if you are twenty and you aren't an idealist, you don't have a heart. But if you're 30 and you are still an idealist, you don't have a brain."

(i never accepted that i was an idealist. Just a realist with an obsessive compulsive need to fix things. But if that need to fix gets fixed, then what? Guilt free boredom... aka: apathy. )

i guess what i'm saying is that i've lost sight of what makes this country, the US, "great" anymore. And i'm not saying that with all the melodrama of rebellious collegiate youth (i wish i was). I'm saying it with a sadness of someone who has fallen out of love with their partner. This country is not honest with me any more. I cannot trust it. i used to be so fascinated with its promise of democracy. But now that is all a facade. Come to find out i was being used. Our long conversations that would last for hours into the night have now been replaced with silent dinners at Macaroni Grill. The passion i felt when we were together exists only in shopping now. She's spending more time in other countries... I'm spending more time in the ocean so i can get away from her. It's not that i don't love you, america. You'll always have a place in my heart, you know that. You know my family and friends... i think i just need some time to think.

Yeah... It's not that i don't love you, america, it's that im not sure if i love myself anymore. i don't know what makes you great anymore, and therefore i'm not sure i know what makes me great anymore. And i, like you, was raised on the notion that we were Great. This Great Nation of ours. A destiny manifested. "What occurs in our neighborhoods is connected to everything."

Maybe the reason we lose our "ideals" at 30 is because we wake up to the reality that this is all a hoax. And then we choose to

A. suckle up and stay fed (republicans)
B. stay in an abusive relationship (democrats)
C. become the disgruntled divorcee who gets drunk makes a fool of oneself at parties. (progressives, greens, liberals, bloggers ... me)

Anyway, as you can tell... my head isn't quite screwed on at the moment. So, I'm headed to Scotland on Friday for another 9 days on a job. I might write before then, but if i don't i just wanted to let you know... If America calls, just say i went to Buck's for a frappucino... or an iced latte, i don't know yet.




i have nothing to say right now. i'm pretty bent out about the Stem Cell veto and hearing the media salivate over the possibility of even more war. I was taking a break next week anyway to travel so just consider me out now. I'm going out to the middle of nowhere to take a breath cuz right now i can't take this shit anymore. see you in a week...




another small practice painting. (terrible photo... couldn't get the glare out) No, it's not really called bloggers ... that's just what it reminded me of when i put it here...



oil on wood panel. 10 x 12"

These were a couple of small paintings i had done recently to get my hands moving again in the studio. I get urges every once in awhile get a little "realistic". Maybe just to remind myself to take my time, to mix colors, to really sit with something for a bit or feel a sense of investment. In these two i can say i was definitely feeling the need to paint images that had a lot going on, but i also wanted to stop just short of suffocation. They aren't much to talk about, but they did serve their purpose well and i am still amazed by how much learning there is in the smallest of paintings.



Everyone Must See This.

From Bradblog.

The 23% becomes the 51% with the touch of a button.


The president is always right.

More man club for today.... besides what is being said here, watch the suits behind the man being interviewed (who is, btw, good german Steven Bradbury, head of the Justice Department’s Office of Legal Counsel...), particularly at the end... watch their little fascist mouths as their smug little message get's delivered. Fucking hitler youth... people were TORTURED...

This is the club. They wear the suits. They smile at torture.

clip thanks to CNL


King Kong part 2

That title is self referencing and stupid, but i'm so high on coffee right now i don't even care. Here's the deal: I'm posting this one late and i wanted to post it a long time ago but didn't want to follow up my Equality/Compassion post with a misogynist radio DJ calling a woman a bitch, especially when i agree with the DJ. (Oh, don't worry... you'll see)

Adam Carolla has made a career off being "a guy". People write him off pretty easy, but i have always seen more of a Colbertesque approach to his schtick. His work on "Love Line" was absolutely amazing... a knack for grounding people out of their own narrative or victimhood, he was able to deal with some of the worst problems i have ever heard in a voice that was compassionate and demanding... (some important characteristics of that deeper masculinity i was talking about before)

And then he left to try and become the next Howard Stern. How fucking honorable.

In the other corner: the blonde version of the alien black suit that took over Spiderman and made him do bad things.... Ann Coulter. (I'm sick of turning her name into puns... it's my newest pet peeve since "people who mention Nostradamus in conversation", though i am fond of Coultergiest.)

Let's use Ann as our "woman making career out of Daddy issues by wearing pant suits and calling for the execution of liberal commie scum."

As a man, i am going shed light on something that all men know just in case the women out there don't know: Even if you wear the pantsuit, and make yourself up everyday to look just spicy enough, and pour on the macho, and are able to mix it up with the boys at the big table... even if you are the CEO.... you are not in the club, and they still don't respect you.

Know this: No man at FOX News actually respects Ann Coulter.

Here's why it doesn't work: From the time men are born we are dealing with "macho". Dad, brother, grandpa, uncles, the boys at school, the gym teacher, media... Even if a man is not macho, he comes to know it inside and out because he falls somewhere on the spectrum of using it or getting beat down by it, daily.

It is for this reason, and i mean absolutely no offense by this (though i can't imagine who would be offended by this), that when we see women trying to employ macho techniques as their own and be "equals", it carries the same impact of your mom making you let your little brother take a turn at bat. You humor it, but you just want to get it over with quick so you can get back to the real game.

I guess my point is, to all those women that are trying to act like men in order to gain respect as an equal: Quit it. It's ridiculous. AND... it's not working even if you might think it is. I mean that kindly and i do understand that it is all really lame that the world is such that any woman would even feel the need to have to act macho to gain respect (trust me, those of us men who don't adhere to the bylaws know how it feels too... )

SO finally, EXHIBIT B... in which we see an example of what we are really talking about here: Macho male vs. Macho female. Experience vs. pastiche. This signals what will be the next phase of Ann's career, as she finally came up against a man who isn't at all plagued with PC (that's the only reason you thought you were winning those debates, ann). Once the Bully gets beat up, even the geeks aren't scared anymore.

I bring you...


Totally random

This just in....

i guess it was
just his time... um... too.

so, to update my conspircay theory: Yes I believe Cheato Lay is dead. As well as this guy and a few other people that may have been preventing some
other other people from getting the money they thought was theirs. (CUT TO: the assasination of the heads of the five families in the last moments of the Godfather)

Whatever. Fuck em. I have no idea what they think they are getting away with, but i do know that they will all be dead someday like the rest of us and this makes me smile.

Sweet jesus, could you imagine a world where you actually
could take it with you?



"uh, Suzanne..."

Exhibit A
from CnL

No mystery George W. Bush has no respect for women.
(Q:when you and your dad aren't talking politics, what do you talk about? GWB: pussy)
But consider this post a sidecar to the Equality post earlier... it's a splendid illustration. Condescending tone, big swooping hand gestures while speaking... READ: i'm so much bigger, like a pufferfish in a suit, and who cares what i say because hey... look at my hands. Bigger. Knowledgeable.

Nice backdrop by the way fellas. We are looking up at the president, who looks upon the earth from his seat next to god.

The whole scenario reminds me of something.... hmmm.....


Blogging realized.

I have to draw attention to an exchange between Deborah Fisher and Eric Larsen as the model for how and why blogging works.

The idea that a blog conversation is "virtual" has got to be outmoded at this point. It is just another form of communication now. (Who is to say that a face to face conversation is ever any more "real" anyway?) Granted the internet social scene has it's perils... MySpace being the biggest exercise in narcissism maybe of all time. But the energy of the dialogue going on now between real artists around the world just continues to blow my mind daily.

It also lends a hand to solving one of the great issues (in the US especially)... thinking before (and while) we speak. This is what a revolution looks like.

As to the discussion at HLIB and DF about blogging versus and in conjunction with artist statements, i imagine a show with a blog created just for that show, where the artist can talk about each piece in the show, and show references and link to images and texts and talk about process, and what is personal and what is universal in principle. Where viewers can read, perhaps on a laptop set up at the show, all of these things... and not just a simple paragraph. And even better, where the viewer can ask questions (even later when they get home) and the artist can actually respond. Then a discussion could form, the work can really work, and artist and participant can actually grow (and in the words of Bill Hicks, "we can learn, evolve and eventually get the fuck off this planet.")

I mean, am i nuts, or wasn't this the idea before it turned into the sterile environment art has become... where a gallery works as an adoption agency... separating artists from their work and the participant. Where the artist is "somewhere out there" and the work just "shows up" and the exchange goes as easy as possible for all parties involved. Maybe it was never any other way, but it's time to change that.

This exchange between Deborah and Eric is the key. It is beautiful not only for what is being said, but in its grace. A true connection between artist and participant, in which we are lucky enough to witness and particpate as well.



Equality: the lost leader

To riff off Ashes' post here...

I have also studied through the most important years with women teachers who were very keen to the simple truth that "Art remains always, at some very basic levels, a feminist project." The workshops i attended were filled with mostly women and several men (and even fewer that were "straight"). In my experience it seems a longer journey for the men to begin to tap into the deeper aspects of ourselves, having to wade through years of training in the other direction... that men deserve the most attention, that men fill the history books for a reason, that men have more to say. (The silly reality is that men usually just say it louder with less concern for anyone who might disagree. Example: those brash young jackasses in your MFA that felt they shit masterpieces and took up the most time in your critique.)

But there is more to it. For years in these workshops i would watch these women tap into a deeper feminine, one that - once located- would make them shine, radiant and energized, creating some of the best work i have ever seen (honest, brave and vulnerable while never sacrificing great sensitivity). Meanwhile i struggled for a long time as i watched some of the other men do, trying to locate that same place and failing... usually resulting in even more frustration.

I eventually had my "breakthrough moment" which doesn't necessitate details here except to say, simply, that it was reliant on my own acceptance of how the male figures in my life had also played a part (in really fucking me up... i kid, kind of). That the father wasn't perfect. This sounds almost silly, but i had no idea how much i was refusing to see this. And now i realize more and more that men are more likely to blame the women in their life than the men, mom than dad. (Psych 101 i'm sure, but hang with me for a sec...)

The question is why we do this? My own answer is that with women we can still distance the issue from ourselves. That distancing being a means of avoiding any accountability which might destroy our status as "victim". For example, as Antje Krog discusses in Country of My Skull, it is easier to say Hitler was a monster. By making him not human, but a monster, we don't have to accept that we are all capable of such evil. A further example of this is 9-11. The moments after 9-11 there was a great outpouring of grief and unity. As the world expressed sympathies, we all saw that we could be those people in those towers, or in that city, or in this country and even on this planet. And for a moment we were fully compassionate. The moment ended when we could not see ourselves as the terrorists.

So in my "revelation" i that i saw that i am a white male. (Crashing sounds.) Just like all those other white males in history i always read about. Just like my dad. Just like *gasp* George W. Bush. Now, one might say, "but you are nothing like him." I don't have to be. My skin color and my penis give me an all access pass the likes that many will never understand (even if they think they might). I have worked in the corporate world around bigtime CEOs with fat-ass wallets, and i will let you know that as bad as you think the club is, it is way worse than that. But that's another topic.

Where i was going with this is to say that for me art has been a feminine process to uncover a deeper masculinity, one that goes beyond machismo and even being a male. One that is honest and vulnerable and compassionate. Softer and more subtle... A long road. A long, profound and beautiful road. And i credit the mastery of my women teachers for putting up with me, and helping me to get there (with incredible notions like, "if you want to be a softer person, learn to paint softly... and vice versa"). Teaching men to find this place (as they often remind me) is incredibly difficult especially when on some level men are still not fully respecting what a woman has to say (i really thought i did!).

I also credit men that have worked hard to find this place... It may be easier to be a white male on many surface levels, but once the truth about the emperor has been revealed... the work really begins. Another reason i may not have wanted to see it in the first place. (Take note: the main reason your dickhead uncle is still a republican is because to accept any other truth means he has to give up his Golden Penis membership card that hands him every opportunity on a silver platter.)

Now, to tie this back to Ashes' gorgeous post: The quote that is gaining popularity now (that i heard Nelson Mandela say before anyone else so i will give him the credit) "in order for the oppressed to become free, the oppressor must also be liberated"... Well the second part to that is "or we all just change places". A big game of musical chairs (think Germany>Israel>Palestine). I realized when i finally saw what it is to be a white american male, that equality should not be the goal, but an entire paradigm shift toward compassionate living.

Anyone oppressed must be mindful of when equality with the oppressor becomes the cheese. Even as artists. I read a lot of disgruntled attitudes towards the "art scene" (especially in NY) here in Bloggopia. You wanna take over the galleries and be on the magazine covers? We must be mindful why, folks... Is it to sit on the top? To reverse the situation? So that someone might resent you next? The galleries aren't monsters. Mathew Barney (even with the friggin horns) is not a monster. And even George W. Bush is not a monster. It's all us... How simple and stupid (like most earth shattering revelations ex post facto). And as soon as we get that simple, stupid revelation: we might get to something deeper.



You know yer a fascist when...

Watch the video here

And then commence packing.

What these are... those kids in college. You know the ones. You know who she is and you know who he is. They don't give a fuck as long as they are making money and everyone is looking at them. They don't even believe what they are saying. Shit, they don't even know what they are saying. They are soap opera stars behind a "news" desk.

Anyway, small post today. (Just enough to make you throw up a little in your mouth)... Carrie is in town from art school and i have a logo to design for a new guitar company in order to actually make some money. We will be getting back to art here though. I have new paintings to show and public art to talk about and my first Town meeting to prepare for!



when i was a kid...

Game boys, 24 hr cartoon networks, dvd players in the back of your head rest, Blues Clues, Baby Einstein... whatever. What the hell happened to all you parents out there? Did you forget your roots? You wanna know what your kid is missing?

A Sense of Wonder.

(and yes, i did put a freaking Zepp cover on my blog. Why? That album cover there, along with many more in my mom's collection, is probably why i became an artist at all. These covers were sacred when i was little. I would flip through them thinking i wasn't allowed, or that someone would stop me at any moment because i was glimpsing the truth too early. There was this world of possibility in these squares... no way did a person make these... i never once thought of the artist... it was as if they conceived themselves.

I'm not a kid anymore --though i still can feel that way when i look at these covers-- so i don't know what gives kids that feeling anymore?

What is there today? a big generation of Bubble Children who are waited on hand and foot, given every possible distraction so that they won't face a minute of sadness, forced by law to wear a helmet if they are to touch anything that might have a wheel on it.

Anyway, what am i getting at here... I dunno. But maybe it's just to remind that there was a time when you would see a blind black genius jam what is a very adult song for 8 minutes on a children's TV show. Maybe it's to point to that child at the top of those stairs in this video that is absolutely consumed with this sound. Maybe it's to say that "less _____" is not what our children need right now, that they are capable of processing, and rely upon, these experiences for whatever might be coming their way later on.)



NonProphet '08 (?)

Well, as i was typing the post below about he who shall not be named, i wrote a bit about how my blog is wavering between art and politics without delving wholeheartedly into either.

I just got a call from the Oceanside City Council as i finished typing ("wow" i thought, "they really hunt you down for those library books") and anyway it turns out you are all reading the blog of the newest addition to the Oceanside City Arts Commission...

I'm a politician mofos!

Thank you thank you... please hold your applause. I would just like to say that it is an honor to fill this seat, and with your help, and maybe a tiny donation or two from the good lobbyists at Wal Mart, i look forward to doing my part to serve the community. (Cash is fine)

So crap, i'm a politician. Guess i'd better cut back on the flag burning (i only use it to cover the smell of my joints) and tell my gardner (Juan) that the wedding is off until he gets his greencard.

Whatever... it's all Clinton's fault.

(I'm going to be good at this)


Squealer on Vacation

Well so my blog is slowly turning into one of those political commentary blogs i never wanted it to be (and a rather half assed one at that since i a'm not willing to put both feet in). Yesssss I'm still making stuff and I do have arty things to talk about, but I mean c'mon! How can someone like me resist something as easy as this....

It seems our favorite piggy has left the Animal Farm for a sec to take a well deserved vacation from lying through his cigar stained teeth. And what better place than the Dominican Republic.
It also seems (as we all know by now) that Squealer brought with him a big ol bottle/illegal prescription for Vitamin V, going against his deal with the court, and implicating his doctor.

So let's connect the dots a bit here....

The man who said this,

Went here,

With a whole bunch of these,

On his own invisible jet.

(i'd like to dedicate this post to my Uncle Hank, who once claimed that Sqealer doesn't lie... )



The Coulter/Hitler Challenge is ON!!

Not one to brag, but i scored pretty high on this. Not because I'm bitchin, but really because um... er, well... Hitler was just a better writer than Ann. I did not score 100% though, and if anyone out there does, let me know and i will celebrate your wisdom.


(DISCLAIMER: It is not the intention of NonProphet to make comparisons between Ann Coulter and Adolf Hitler (for example: how similar their names are). Any similarities noted that may allude to comparisons will hereby be deemed "coincidence".)



So you say you want a resolution?

The higher ups of the Republican Party would like you to believe that Liberals/Democrats/free thinkers don't have a solution to the quagmire (abosolute mess) that is Iraq.

Well, I have one that seems pretty darn easy (compared to the shit we are in now...)

One of the main jobs of US Soldiers is to protect the war profiteering corporations that are supposed to rebuild the infrastructure. Instead, these coporations are ripping off the US taxpayer and the Iraqi people, and do nothing (the biggest project probably building the new US Embassy-- 104 acres: 80 football fields).

It has been 3 years, and people in Baghdad are still struggling for the basics (electricity for exapmle). In 1991, after the 1st Gulf War, Iraq was rebuilt fast and at a low cost by the Iraqis themselves (saddam was better at reconstruction?). Now it's a different story... one that has become more than ever "the american way". As an example, during Bremer's time, a bridge rebuilding project was being bid on. Went like this....
Iraqi company bid $100,000
Halliburton bid $1,000,000
You probably can guess who got that bid.

So what is the solution?
1 - Pull out the corporations and war profiteers immediately
2 - Let Iraqi companies bid on infrastructure rebuilding and choose the best, of course everything will be US funded, as Colin says, you break it, you pay.
3 - Pull out US troops as they won't be needed: the insurgency is fueled by the presence of the foreign contractors and US troops, and also 80% unemployment rate. Giving everyone their jobs back will be much more efficient in stalling the insurgency than killing civilians.

And as a bonus...
1 - Forget the oil grab, and re-nationalize the oil to let the Iraqis profit from what comes out of their soil (Bush's earliest claim). Use diplomacy to facilitate open deals with oil companies.
2 - Donate the giant embassy to the Iraqi people to turn into a Hospital, a University or a Museum.
3 - Use international law instead of self-interest to help the Iraqis determine their future.

This not only empowers Iraqis, but allows us to leave with a tiny atom of decency.

And since i know the Republicans are not capable of doing any of this, I think we might have to find someone who will.

(thanks both to Judy at DU and Dennis Kucinich)



Today's word is B-L-O-O-D-L-U-S-T

Ohhhhh really, Time? In an attempt to sink lower than their cover of Trans Coulter, Time magazine decided to use this for their latest cover to self reference a long history of covers... as such:

Now, I wasn't alive for Pearl Harbor or Hitler. But i think i am safe in gently screaming that there is no way IN HELL that you can compare the death of Hilter to that of Zarqallafagus.

How many things are wrong with this picture?

A. The most important thing we have killed in the past 5 years is the Constitution. Start there....

B. Does Time actually think i give a fuck about the death of this man? Or that ANY americans do? Even the ones that might say they do have flipped the dial back to Idol already. Even if this man was all that they have tried to convince us he was... so what? Is the war over? Can the troops come home? Do i feel relieved? Safer? Mission Accomplished?

I didn't even feel that way when we caught Saddam. THAT ranked right up there with finding your pet boa constrictor after it escapes its terrarium and before it swallows the hamster. Why? No army. No threat. NOT CONNECTED TO 9-11. (all admitted by senior officials in the whitehouse).

So now we are celebrating the demise of enemies that we created through our own pre emptive evil deeds. Hmmm... Ya see Time, the problem with this is that it all comes off a bit different than it did in WW2. Then, we were attacked. We were defending. We were actually protecting and fighting for a greater cause (to someday be able to make iPods for squat in far away places). John Kennedy came along and said "we will never start a war". George W. Bush came along and said, "bullshit, I'ma git PAID mufugga". And here we are, raping and pillaging, like the extremely well armed (yet unarmored) pirates we are. There's just not the same feel of heroism about Darth Vader crossing Admiral Motti off his list.

SO STOP TRYING TO CREATE ONE. Why are you still pandering to the small minority of americans who are still gung ho about this war? These are the same americans who REFUSE TO READ. So just fucking stop it already. Yay for the internet hurrying your extinction.



ay cabron

(for ashes... here's what yer missing. doesn't this make you homesick?)

So, I'm getting back to normal after being really sick. Well first i was in St. Louis for about 5 days, then i got real sick. I will have photos from St. Louis up soon (they have one of the most interesting interactive public art works i have ever seen). Other than that i had to finish 3 paintings for a show and having a braincloud and nostrils full of cement did not help that at all. i don't really like how they turned out... well honestly, they suck. And what sucks about that is they were looking real good up to the sickness part. I miiiight show them here later if i can stomach them.

I want to be the first to have a phaedon retrospective with all of my "unsuccessful" art endeavors. Right now that book feels real thick.



in memory

Today was the big day. Carrie and I, in the interview we had done about the fence, invited everyone in the community to join us and participate in writing and hanging the names. We really didn't think anyone would show up... as I would find throughout the morning, my silly assumptions were generally wrong.

The man who had started hanging the flowers and the flags years ago (who we just met last week) brought the table. And when 20 people showed up almost before we even got out of the car, he went to get another table and more chairs.

When we started this project years ago, we weren't sure the community would stand for it. But right away the flags and the flowers started showing up. We weren't happy about the flags at all. We feared instantly that our project was being hijacked by this mob mentality that was spawned by 9-11 that began to use flags as band aids for everything. We wanted to tear them down.

It was one of the first questions we had to face on this thing. And we made an agreement that no matter what happened we wouldn't interfere with whatever anyone else did. It was now a conversation.

Well, it turns out that the flag guy we dreaded for years is the sweetest guy there is. And not pro war. In fact, he was a conscientious objector during Vietnam. He was a different kind of vet... and he reminded me that it's my flag too.

Another woman, who we hadn't met until today, was putting up signs that read WE LOVE OUR HERO'S (yes, with the incorrect grammar). Those signs with their glaring mistakes drove us nuts for 3 years. These signs wouldn't go away. They are even out there now. If one fell or disappeared, a new one would follow it, this time laminated... she was evolving her technique, just not her grammar.

Anyway, we met her too finally. A nice older woman... four brothers who served in WWII. 2 Nephews in Iraq right now. She came up and kindly asked if it was okay that she put her four brothers' names on the fence... (and i'm bitching about grammar? sheesh)

So all these people show up. All different kinds. The guy in the photo with the crazy flag shirt. He was first with his wife. I saw him and in my head a little voice was saying, "oh shit, it's going to be that kind of crowd."

but it wasn't. Next came a lesbian couple. Then an asian woman, some bikers... all kinds. They came and they dove right in.

Besides the cars driving by, you could hear a pin drop. It was like study hall. I could see them having that same feeling Carrie and I did when we would sit and meditate on each name as we wrote it. I could see them wondering who this person was? what were they like? did they have kids? that realization point... shit. people are dying over there. (horribly, more than just the names on this fence...)

at one point i walked up to the table to get more names to hang, and a woman writing stopped suddenly and i heard her say to herself with a quiet shock, "i know this guy." I took a big breath. I remembered the day i wrote my friend's name down only to realize what i had just done.

And the day was like that. This action of writing and hanging the names one by one in the cover of night... suddenly all of these people were doing these actions, as if we had been cloned, in the middle of the day... we never really showed them how to do it, not that it's complicated, but it was if information had passed on its own, through something porous.

We had expected to be there all day. But these people... they wrote and hung 1000 names to bring the fence up to date in one hour.

A lot of my fellow art bloggers are discussing art and what and who it is for. I think I have my answer. Painting is what it is. And galleries. And the bubble. And Art Inc. And they have a place, don't get me wrong. But in the US especially, where most are living on some magnetic track that takes them to work and to the mall and home like a ride at disneyland that you can steer but not derail (perfectly titled "Autopia"), to be fascinated again is all that we are silently yearning for. To participate. To have, as Joseph Campbell says, an experience of living.

Magic is not magic. According to my computer, it's just "a quality that that makes something seemed removed from everyday life, especially in a way that gives delight." I'm not sure it needs to be delightful as much as a real experience of living. An interruption of "life" with life:


honk honk...

ever so proud to be an american