There's Braille on the key-pads at drive-up-only ATMs. There's 24-hour drive-thru taxidermy. Some guy's living in a refrigerator crate and he's never seen a refrigerator. A world leader of a starving nation has his own cooking show! People make cars and can't afford to buy one. 1st Lady in a soup kitchen in 600-dollar sneakers!

Beat Slap

[Alan Ginsburg Meets Dr. Seuss]

James Staples

Recant the scant revenant revenuer for residential president.

Reticent revenuer: recalcitrant? Reluctant instructor,

Deducting the “flux capacitor,” detracting wretched happenstance.

Distraction wracks the massive black cracks in a fragile back-tracker’s

Back-packing fact-checker – a home-wrecker! Ask the hectic Mexican

Sweat-speckled deck-stacking attack hackers.   Heck, they say,

A brazen stray can stay awake and pray the day’s not far away

When any ten-a-penny parlor game you want to play is nothing but

A shade of gray, as strong a song as the day is long.  It belongs to the dawn.

Hong Kong’s a really wrong wrung to ride in the long lane inside,

If you just let the Pride-Ride glide on high tide.  Tilt from side to side,

But do not chide the children’s challenge to channel big change

In the way strange rangers hasten daily to gain the pain

That they arrange themselves – the fools, the utter fools.

Cruel rules imbrue the tools we use to choose

A ruse too crude to prove true news ensues.

Get loose!  Vamoose! Spruce up your get-up and let up

On every last Brat-Pack facsimile from imminently similar

Circumstances.  The chance is, this mystic is briskly kissing

The system equivalent of simulated ambivalent heaven-sent pensive senators,

Resentful of mending the fence for every gent’s bent two-cents-worth

Of mirth on Earth (for what it’s worth).  It’s just a dearth of girth, but I digress:

Let’s stress less guesswork.  Redress the better blessing of success.

What’s best is estimating the brace of graceless cages facing the nation.

Say the way to play Belabored Savior strays away from some dumb

Slum-running scum-bum.  That hag drags a shaggy rag-bag,

Some flag-draped date-rapist who takes the shape of your basic big-wig

Radiant maze-gazer, placated by 31 flavors of X-rated crepe-paper shape-changers.

Make way for the hay-day in the shade of the gray-scale pacemaker.  She’s no faker!

Mistake her faith for a free-fall fast-ball.  Hey, now!  If the last-chance roll call

Is the “Be-All” and “End-All,” then why try to wall-crawl your way out of the log maul?

There’s no more to shoot for.  It’s over.  That’s all, y’all. 

...Groove.

[27 May 2009, Underbridge, Olympia, WA

Dedicated to my blood-brother, Siddiq]

The Second Sacrifice:

A Memorial Day Reminder

James Staples

“Greater love hath no man than this: that he lay down his life for his friends.”  - The Gospel of John

It is right and fitting that Americans pause to honor and remember those men and women who have died in service to their nation.   To give up one’s own stake in a brighter future so that others may inherit it is as selfless an act as a person can commit.  Shouldering great risk in the face of one’s own fear is admirable.  Doing this for the sake of others is the essence of heroism. 

The clearest example of this is, of course, found in military service.  In my lifetime alone, hundreds of thousands of men and women have donned the uniform and lost their lives, in the name of justice, freedom and the never-ending struggle against tyranny.  The scope, passion and drama of these sacrifices is astounding, but it also causes most of us to forget all of the other Americans who have made the same sacrifice without serving in the military.  We easily take for granted the sacrifice of thousands, without whom this nation would not exist.

Over the 223 years of this nation’s sovereignty, and especially since the dawn of the twentieth century, countless lives have been lost in the construction of railroads, bridges, highways, skyscrapers and all the other edifices of infrastructure.  Police, firefighters and other first responders have also shown that love for one’s fellows may be worth one’s own life.  Without these courageous men and women, all the military might and sacrifice would be in vain.  Without them, this nation would not exist, let alone need defending.  Let us remember, too, the orators and statesmen who were cut down as they spoke up, reminding us that, unless there is justice for all, there is justice for no one.  People like Martin Luther King, jr., Malcolm X, Harvey Milk and Rachel Corrie were murdered because greed, bigotry and insecurity forever seek to keep freedom and justice in the hands of a privileged few (Privilege means ‘private law’).  It is shameful that people have to die for a cause so self-evidently correct, but we are honored and fortunate that there are those who are willing to do so.

Greatness does not wear a uniform.  Just as some individuals in uniform act in such a way as to disgrace and diminish this nation, there are also those who perform great acts of heroism without wearing fatigues or wielding a gun.  This nation is literally full of heroes.  Whenever tragedy strikes, this fact becomes clear.   When horrors like Hurricane Katrina or the 9/11 Massacre beset us, ordinary men and women, people with families and hopes for the future, appear on the scene, ready to prove the truth of the apostle’s words.  America is a nation of unassuming greatness.  In the home of the brave are many people who will give up everything to ensure it remains the land of the free.

To everyone, in uniform or out, who has made this sacrifice:  Our eternal gratitude is yours.

-THINK TRUTH.-

This guy frickin' KILLIFIES me!!!

13.5 minute interview with my favorite author, discussing his recent diagnosis of early-onset hind-brain Alzheimer's Disease. He is a man of rare courage and humor.

Oliver the Cat, 2001-2009, Rest in Peace

My wife, Tinsa, and I were married (handfasted actually) in April of 2003.  One month later, we got a pug named Bruno.  That meant we had one dog, one cat and one turtle.  About five months later, we received a call from Tinsa’s aunt, who was having a problem with her Snowshoe Burmese cat, Oliver.  In fact, it was her husband with whom she was having the real problem.  She loved the cat very much, but her husband was allergic, not a fan of cats in general, and is just basically kind of a prick.  Anyway, he was making her get rid of the cat.  She called Tinsa and said that she would have to take Oliver to the pound unless she could find a home for him, and she asked if Tinsa could help. 

Tinsa could not think of anyone she knew who could adopt a cat, so she asked me what I thought about taking him in.  My response, not to put too fine a point on it, was, “Hell, no!”  With a new baby, a new dog and a house that seemed to be getting smaller by the day, I said we just couldn’t do it.  My wife cunningly pointed out that her aunt had to get rid of Oliver immediately and asked if he could at least stay with us for a day or two until we found a home for him.

Thirty minutes later, I met Oliver.  Thirty-one minutes later, Oliver was a member of our family.  I have lived with cats for literally my whole life and I have never known a cat as lovable and affectionate as Oliver.  Strangely, though, he almost never purred.   Even stranger: Oliver had a natural smell like fine cologne.  Seriously!  He always smelled like he had just had a bath with jasmine-and-sandalwood soap.  He also had a pink patch on his lip that made him look like he was wearing lipstick.  As if these things were not endearing enough, he was also very beautiful and very gentle with our children.

So, what was the problem that made Tinsa’s aunt’s goon-of-a-husband want to be rid of him?  Well, there were two things.  First, Oliver was pretty dopey; definitely not the sharpest cheese in the pantry.  His natural prettiness combined with his dingbat goofiness caused Tinsa and me to think of him as the feline Derek
Zoolander.  Far from being a problem, we thought his DUH-quotient was charming.  The other problem was that he had a tendency to pee just outside his litter box.  The only way we could find to obviate that was to let him go outside occasionally.  That was his undoing.

Ollie just didn’t have the sense to be appropriately afraid of cars.  On Tuesday, February 3^rd, 2009 (the fiftieth anniversary of the plane crash that killed Buddy Holly, Ritchie Valens and the Big Bopper), Oliver was hit by a car.  He survived with a fractured pelvis. He died two days later, aged eight years, while recuperating at home.  We will always love him and we will never forget him.

Rest in Peace, Oliver.  May flights of angels wing you to your rest.

Fifty Years Ago Today:

Not Fade Away

.. ..

James Staples

.. ..

Jiles had the flu.  It was cold
and cramped on the bus, and on the day after Groundhog Day, the weather in Iowa,
where they were, was bad enough, but the weather in Minnesota, where they were
going, was bound to be even worse.  He
really wanted to take the plane instead, but it was a single-engine Beechcraft
Bonanza.  All three of its passenger
seats were full.  He gave it some thought
and decided Jennings would be easiest to cajole into giving up his seat to
Jiles.

.. ..

“Come on, man,” Jiles wheedled. 
“In my condition, I just can’t take another long ride on that damn bus!
Just let me take the plane; just for this one leg of the tour.”

.. ..

“Listen,” Jennings drawled, “as stuffed up as you are, you think
flying that plane is gonna be any more comfortable?  Your head’s gonna just about pop at twenty
thousand feet.”

.. ..

“Aw, look,” Jiles pleaded, “At least it’ll be over a lot quicker, then
I can get some rest at the motel, and I’ll be a lot more fit to go on
stage.  Do me this one favor, man.  Please?”

.. ..

“Okay, okay,” Jennings said with mock exasperation, “If it’ll stop ya
whinin’ at me, I’ll give up my seat to you. 
Just remember: you owe me for this one.”

.. ..

“Ah, thanks, cat!”  Jiles said
with his great big trademark-smile.  “I
knew I could count on you.”

.. ..

Just then Holly came by and asked the two men what they were talking
about.  When they explained, Holly seemed
incredulous of Jennings.  “Man, you’re
gonna freeze your ass off on that fool bus. 
It’s heater’s shot!  That’s the
whole reason I rented us a plane, man. 
We’ll be nice and warm!”

.. ..

Jennings laughed and pointed out that, at least he wouldn’t have to
sit next to the sick guy.

.. ..

“Yeah?” Holly retorted, “Well, I hope that old bus freezes up!”

.. ..

“Huh!” Jennings shot back.  “Well,
I hope your dang plane crashes!”

.. ..

With perfect timing, Roger Peterson walked into the terminal and said,
“Hey, boys, we’re ready to take off.  Let’s
get you three on board.”

.. ..

“Waylon ain’t goin’,” Holly told him. 
“He gave his seat to the Bopper.”

.. ..

“No problem,” the pilot replied. 
“He’s a little heavier, but not enough to make a difference.”

.. ..

It was fifty years ago today. 
The plane took off from Clear Lake, Iowa at 1:00 a.m. in a light snow
storm.  Peterson was the pilot.  His three passengers were Ritchie Valens (17),
Charles ‘Buddy’ Holly (22) and Jiles Richardson (28), better known his fans as
The Big Bopper.  Waylon Jennings was
touring as one of Buddy Holly’s bandmates. 
The tour was a grueling one: “The Winter Dance Party” was scheduled for
twenty-four cities in three weeks.  Buddy
booked it to make money after the recent break-up of his band, The Crickets.

.. ..

The plane crashed and all four people on board were killed.  Only the pilot’s body was recovered.  The three passengers were all thrown clear
and their remains were never found.

.. ..

The tragedy affected rock’n’roll the same way Kennedy’s assassination affected
politics.  After that plane crash, the
sock hops, roller skates and poodle skirts fell by the wayside.  For rock music, the age of innocence died
with those three giants, and an angry and disgruntled adolescence followed.  It is fair to say the sixties started a year
early.  February 3^rd, 1959 has
been known as “the day the music died” ever since.  Fifty years later, Waylon Jennings says he is
still haunted by the memory of that joking remark he made.

.. ..

Buddy Holly, Ritchie Valens, Big Bopper:  “Love forever, not fade away.”  Rest in peace.

.. ..

-THINK TRUTH.-