Good Dog

Imagine that you look over the neighbor's fence, and see a dog chained to a stake. The dog has been there for a long time. It has accepted that being left to fend for itself is it's only reality.

You notice that it's master feeds it sporadically, but never enough. The dog is scarred and weathered. It paces the circumferential rut it has worn at the end of it's chain, never getting anywhere, yet it must move. Your conscience finally does what it was created to do, so you go to set him free. 

He snarls at you and leaps against his restraints. It takes you a long time to convince him that you are not an enemy. Eventually, he sniffs your hand, and lets you pet him.

When his master steps on the porch and yells "That's my dog. What the hell are you doing?" the dog bites you in defense of, and out of loyalty to, the only master he knows.

It serves no purpose to hate the dog.

You don't have the heart to hate the dog, even though he reminds you of your working class friends who voted republican, and you want to kick their stupid asses. 

Donald Duck Meets Glen Beck

Radical Green Solution?

• Imagine a vehicle that was designed from tiny particles, each with it's own purpose, that replaced them selves, and could repair minor injuries.


• It could find it's way home in the dark, even if the owner was drunk, and automatically avoid collisions.


• It maintained it's own fluid levels, and filled it's tank (without the owner's help) from biomass that grows wild by the side of the road.


• It's waist products would include a touch of methane, but mostly emerge as nuggets of clean organic fertilizer.


• If you own two of them, they can even reproduce themselves. If times became tough, you could even eat it.


• Not only could you love it like you now love your car, it could love you back.

We used to call them horses.

They were invented by the one who brought us sunsets, snowflakes, vaginas, and most everything we love.

The New "White Underclass" Predicted Over 40 Years Ago

Somebody sent me a link to a page that was talking about the new "White Underclass" as one of the results of our failed experiment with letting the rich do whatever the hell they want. Why separate the white underclass from the rest of the "underclass"?

Only because they didn't seem to see it coming.

It's not like nobody mentioned it. The baby boomers just wrote us off as Hippie Socialists, and made cartoon characters out of us (like I got time to actually hug a fucking tree).


Like A Rolling Stone

Once upon a time you dressed so fine
You threw the bums a dime, in your prime,
didn't you?

People call
say, "Beware doll
you're bound to fall"
you thought they were all
kiddin' you?

You used to laugh about
everybody that was hangin' out.
Now you don't talk so loud.
Now you don't seem so proud,
about having to be scrounging
your next meal.

How does it feel?

How does it feel,
to be without a home?
Like a complete unknown?
Like a rolling stone?

You've gone to the finest school
all right Miss Lonely,
but you know you only used to get
juiced in it.

Nobody ever taught you
how to live out on the street'
and now you're gonna have to get
used to it.

You said you'd never compromise
With the mystery tramp, but now you realize
He's not selling any alibis
As you stare into the vacuum of his eyes
And and say "Hey, do you want to
make a deal?

How does it feel?

How does it feel,
to be on your own?
With no direction home?
Like a complete unknown?

Like a rolling stone.

You never turned around to see the frowns
on the jugglers and the clowns when they all did
tricks for you.
You never understood that it ain't no good.
You shouldn't let other people get your
kicks for you.

You used to ride on the chrome horse with your diplomat
who carried on his shoulder a Siamese cat.
Ain't it hard when you discover that
he really wasn't where it's at,
after he took from you everything
he could steal?


How does it feel?

How does it feel
to be on your own?
With no direction home?
Like a complete unknown?
Like a rolling stone?

Princess on the steeple and all the pretty people
they're drinkin', thinkin' that they got it made.
Exchanging all precious gifts.
You'd better take your diamond ring and
you'd better pawn it babe

You used to be so amused
At Napoleon in rags
and the language that he used.
Go to him now, he calls you,
you can't refuse.
When you got nothing,
you got nothing to lose.
You're invisible now,
you got no secrets
to conceal.

How does it feel?


How does it feel
to be on your own?
With no direction home?
Like a complete unknown?
Like a rolling stone.

-Bob Dylan

Copyright ©1965; renewed 1993 Special Rider Music

Farm Power

Farm Power

Check out this unit.

Cow manure is placed in this digester and heated to the temperature of a cow's stomach (100 degrees F.). The methane that usually just goes into the atmosphere to cause global warming, is trapped and burned to run a generator. The heat produced by the process warms the manure to the right temperature (100 degrees F.), and the electricity generated can be used, or sold back to the local power company.

Free electricity from what was once a pollutant. Talk about your green energy. What more could you ask for?