Jack Burns Lives!

I’ve always found myself fascinated by images that show emerging plant life in landscapes recently burned to crisp by volcanic eruptions. Even out of what appears to be sheer and utter destruction, life abides. Like a snake shedding its skin for a new scaly coat of armament, the earth renews and recreates itself.

For those of us still reeling from the mind blogging Supreme Court decision this week, I offer hope. Yes, hope, that little word Obama used to sway us like a Pied Piper and lead us to believing change was coming to America. We got change, alright. Just not the kind we hoped for.

With this week’s decision, the Supreme Court essentially killed any notion that the United States was a democratic nation and gave full notice that we were in fact a corporate state. A fascist nightmare run by greedy, callous people, mostly Christians, possessing nuclear weapons and guns with Bible verses inscribed on their sights. Their mantra is growth and profit, and for those that can’t keep up, well, you get kicked to the curb to suffer. Shoulda prayed more, I suppose.

It didn’t take a battle or revolution to do it. All it took was five appointed people, people appointed by rich and powerful men, and a few short paragraphs within the context of a nearly 1000 word document to kill America, Land of the Free.

Not a single shot was fired.

The silver lining is this. Perhaps this once unfathomable turn of events will hasten the demise of what we mistakenly believed was representative democracy and give birth to real democracy. Our generation will bear the brunt of the ugliness, as will our children, but perhaps our grandchildren (or for some, great-grandchildren) will live to see a much more democratic, sustainable society. Maybe even a semi-pastoral, anarchistic society based on the egalitarian principle of mutual aid.

I’m one of the few hold outs that still embraces Edward Abbey’s ideals. That anarchism is not a romantic fable but a viable, tried and true alternative for organizing human society.

What’s next? I tend to agree with Keith Olbermann’s assessment on things. The first step is to insert paid for politicians. To a lesser degree, we’ve had that for some time, but we’re entering an age where no one can win without the correct corporate imprimatur. Goodbye Dennis Kucinich. Then, once the whores are in place, their corporate pimps will instruct them to roll back all sorts of environmental regulations, and we’ll see development and industry running amok. The real Dark Ages lie ahead.

As that starts to collapse, violence will erupt. Corporate brutality, state brutality, desperate people roaming the streets. Perhaps not too far from scenarios envisioned by Cormac McCarthy or Edward Abbey. Police forces will be privatized and rule with the cudgel and the boot.

Eventually, however, the corporate toadies will go too far. To help expand their reach, they’ll probably try to privatize parts of the military, but I have faith that wise generals will see through this ruse and draw a line in the sand. One thing about West Point men is they know history. They won’t be fooled by a bunch of necktie wearing power brokers any more than Smedley Butler was fooled. A few will drink (a few have already) from the poison chalice, but not all. So, instead of a Civil War like we had in 1863, you could see a State vs. Corporate war. What’s to keep Lockheed from hiring its own pilots? Blackwater from expanding to unheard of levels? They’ll have their appointed Congress critters to help them! They’ll be oaths of allegiance to the company and to God. I can imagine all sorts of scenarios where this could get beyond butt ugly over the coming years.

Remember, these are people that have already leveled threats like “We’ll bury you with our money.”

Think that’s unimaginable? Who would have thought 25 years ago we’d be dealing with this catastrophe? Emma Goldman, Edward Abbey and a few other marginalized radicals and dissenters probably saw it coming but not too many others. Never underestimate what people will do when billions of dollars are at stake.

I believe we’re at war. I believe we’re fighting to keep freedom alive in our bleeding country. I believe anyone that cares about freedom and that doesn’t want to see our country turned over to corporate, fascist bastards needs to stand up and be heard. We need writers, agitators, creative subversives in art, music and even high tech to wage war against this onslaught of idiocy sweeping the country. Now, more than any time since the time of Jim Crow, we need warriors. People willing to peacefully stand against the tide and refuse to flow with it. We need people to light the way and establish a sound path for future generations.

We need a massive injection of common sense, and we need it now, and if you’re a praying sort, pray these evil bastards hang themselves with their neckties.

“Liberty cannot be guaranteed by law. Nor by any thing else except the resolution of free citizens to defend their liberties.”

“I am going to venture that the man who sat on the ground in his tipi meditating on life and its meaning, accepting the kinship of all creatures, and acknowledging unity with the universe of things, was infusing into his being the true essence of civilization.”
-Chief Luther Standing Bear

When confronted with the choice of reading The New York Times or watching the varying array of avian life outside my kitchen window, the decision was simple. Bankruptcy, war, terror, homelessness or the Tufted titmouse, Prairie warbler and Downy woodpecker?

It seems obvious to me the nobility of their simple lives far exceeds that of most men and is equally if not more so deserving of our attention.

It’s good that we have our non-human friends to free our spirits from ugliness of civilization. Especially those of us trapped in cities of concrete, steel, sirens and mayhem. They remind us there is another world, a simpler more beautiful place. And while winter gently cloaks the South in a blanket of grayish cold death, colorful life still abounds. Yellows, reds, blues. They’re all there, hiding in the cedars, pines and holly. In the remains of last summer’s wildflowers and in the blueberry. In the towering, leafless oaks, hickory and elm.

In the season when depression gains its firmest root, these little creatures bring calm and lasting joy. And while there is no meaning to their existence or even to my own, life is, as its often said, what you make of it. We can choose to live cooperatively or we can choose to make life a Hobbesian hell, a struggle against all, for all.

Why is that? Why are humans so prone to petulance and determined to wage war on all life? Why do so few see the needed beauty and necessary role of the warbler or of the lynx? What’s wrong with us that we seemingly place greater value on televisions and cellphones than that of a living things?

Ah, a new year. A clean slate, you say. Time to renew and forge ahead.

To hell with that. I woke up with a frown on my face, feeling quite curmudgeonly and perfectly satisfied with that sentiment. After all, let’s take stock of what’s happening in the world.

Gas prices are dropping. Economists and bankers are talking about opening up credit again. The damned guvment is expanding the war and using “The Christmas Terror Plot” as an excuse to extend the life of a national embarrassment known as Guantanamo Bay.

Affordable healthcare for all is dead. Ed Abbey is still dead.

We have no political leadership and The Democratic party is apparently devoid of anyone with guts, save Dennis Kucinich a paltry dozen or so others.

The majority of the populace is hopelessly propagandized and ignorant.

People are trying to replace books with electronic gizmos.

And if you thought Tiny Tim and Twisted Sister were bad, we now have Lady Gaga.

We can’t even make decent movies these days. I go to the movie theater maybe once a year, because everything is so completely awful. Most indie films are so abstract and depressing they make me want to slice my wrist with a plastic butter knife.

So, I retreat to what’s real. What gives me hope and joy. The woods, mountains, watching birds. Reading Abbey, Jeffers, Snyder, Welch or Thoreau. Watching old movies and enjoying a glass of wine by the fire. I don’t even care to go to parties any longer. I’ve become a social recluse. The Grinch.

Anarchy? Don’t dare mention such ridiculous ideas, especially on a list devoted to Edward Abbey. No one cares. No one talks about it, as it seems most folks have accepted their fate and just don’t care. And I’m frankly dumbfounded by the number of so-called “progressives,” some really intelligent people, that continue to look to War$hington for answers. Simply amazing!

It’s like looking to guns to solve the murder problem.

I think a lot about cowboys these days. Yeah, a lot of it is mythical, but there’s much that’s real. Yeah, the cattle industry is horrible, a direct contributor to the ecocide we now find ourselves in, but it’s not the cow that intrigues me. It’s just the idea of a man and his horse. A Jack Burns type. Hat and boots, riding freely in a world with no fences. No drivers license, no draft card, just a man. A man trying to live freely in an insane world.

I think a lot about a world that doesn’t exist.

2009 wasn’t a great year for a lot of folks, but overall, I’ll give it a C-. We got rid of the Bush Crime Family, and while the replacement seems only marginally better, he is better. At least our President doesn’t stumble over his words like a third grader that just got caught throwing spitballs or pulling a little girl’s hair.

Cracks started developing on Wall Street, as the great mother ship of our capitalist dreams took on water and listed heavily to port. One can look ahead and hope the Peak Oil tsunami will finally finish it off.

One child finished his undergrad while yet another started grad school. I’m enormously proud of both, as each have chosen non-destructive paths that will reward them personally while contributing to their communities.

Many lost their jobs in 2009, but my own capitalist endeavor did quite well. I’m not proud of being a successful capitalist, but the horse is out of the barn, and I have to do something to pay the rent. I am proud of constructing a democratic workplace that fosters creativity and freedom. I hope that the unemployed will find meaningful work in 2010, but I believe it’s going require decisive action by our President for things to improve. He’ll have to start acting more like FDR than a Wall Street puppet.

My garden was a disappointment, but in failure there is learning. I won’t make the same mistakes this spring.

I didn’t ride my bike enough, but I will improve and ride regularly in 2010. No more blaming it on cold weather or the paltry 24 miles (round trip). And I’m proud to announce our little firm will reward its employees with extra vacation days for accruing commuting miles in 2010. You can earn extra days for simply riding your bike to work.

Most Americans, it seems, won’t do what’s good for the planet unless there’s “something in it for them.” Nevermind the kids and grandkids, the lynx, the polar bear or the eagle. There’s got to be some tangible benefit now and for the person that put forth the “effort,” otherwise, the same old selfish behaviors endure. On the whole, we’re a pretty selfish, apathetic lot.

More goals for 2010? No air travel. Save more. Give more away. More hiking, writing, reading and birding. More time with friends and family. Finding new and inventive ways to be a speed bump on the road to “progress,” especially locally. Better yet, a barrier.

I was extremely discouraged by two major losses in late 2008 and early 2009. A road through a forest two miles from my home and the loss of a wetland on the riverfront. It’s doubtful anything can change the tide against these sorts of developments other than a horrible economy. I’m definitely in the minority, but I hope capital and credit remains as frozen as Denali in winter. Once the back room deals are done between the developers, bankers, lawyers and politicians, it’s game, set, match. Only after these deals are brokered do you ever see notices of “public hearing,” spectacles that are often little more than announcements for what will happen, not what is “proposed.”

Yet, we can cause them all sorts of troubles in the media and make them spend far more on studies and lawyers than what they’d planned. And with today’s thin margins, enough trouble might kill a project.

My grandmother taught me to be kind to people and to always be willing to help others. Approaching 50 years of age, I still agree with that, although with a caveat. I believe those that willfully destroy our home and that bring death and destruction to humans and non-humans deserve condemnation in the strongest terms. They’ve earned public obloquy and scorn. They don’t deserve pleasantries or even common courtesy.

Is that being an asshole? Perhaps. But isn’t destroying the planet so you can live a life of opulence worse? I say it is.

We need more Ed Abbey’s in 2010. People willing to be curmudgeons or “assholes” when necessary. People willing to stand up and say “We’ve had it with this shit!” Folks are too scared to be political or vocal for fear of being ostracized and it “affecting their business.” And to that, I say, you’re as bad, if not worse, than the guy plowing through the forest. Don’t be a coward. A coward that stands by and watched voiceless, defenseless animals lose their home.

I suppose we also need some silent operators. Undercover types that stay under the radar and infiltrate the enemy. They can leak information to the press and environmental groups. And we also need “moderates.” People that can’t easily be marginalized as “radicals.”

It takes all types to slow the tide.

So, in 2010, I vow to be more like Edward Abbey. I promise to be a better and more vigilant defender and protector of life. I promise to stand against those that would destroy the earth for non-sustainable, capitalist gain. I promise to go to the front lines and not lurk in the shadows like an apathetic coward unwilling to act.

I consider it the pursuit of a noble life.

This started out as a piece on birds. Winter birds, as we’ve had the recent pleasure of visiting with some seasonal friends visiting during their winter vacation. Then it morphed into something else entirely, thanks to my Attention Deficit Disorder or what used to be called lack of concentration or focus. I shifted to e-mail suddenly and opened a message about Wall Street and a decade of poor stock performance.

One should never pass up a chance to read good news.

So, what was originally intended to be an essay on winter birds, turned into a rambling soliloquy on non-humans, humans and our contrasting paths in life.

…A favorite winter pastime is animal watching. Non-humans, mostly, although I have been known to observe and make careful notes about the peculiar behavior of featherless bipeds in all seasons. Seems no season is without human folly. But without question, I’ve always found non-humans much more interesting, especially avian species and much more tolerable as neighbors.

The Mississippi Delta region, my year round home, comes alive in winter with a bevy of avian species. Migratory species make their way to the Southland, usually by late December, to forage in our rich fields and in our plentiful forests. While the South may often seem devoid of progressive social mores and attitudes, it’s not devoid of the necessary elements for survival. We’re blessed with rivers and streams, in varying levels of pollution and decay, an abundance of woodlands and vegetation, rich, legendary soil and a mild climate. Nearly any creature could live here, save a few reptiles than clearly prefer and require a warmer environment.

Dixie ain’t a bad place to winter and our abundant resources are one reason I’ve chosen to remain in the South.

The Delta is most famous for its flyway, the primary migratory path for waterfowl. Hunters spend millions of dollars every fall preparing for the southeastern push where millions of Mallards, Gadwalls, Redheads and Canadian geese make their annual trek. The hunter’s job is to make sure not all of them make it back. The job of state and federal agencies is to make sure enough of ‘em make it back.

It’s a story that’s had its ups and downs. While the waterfowl population rebounded from near decimation in the 1970’s (and saw a 13% increase from 2008 to 2009), migratory avian species, like Wood thrush, Northern oriole, Golden-cheeked warbler, Scarlet tanager and Whippoorwill are now facing much grimmer prospects, thanks to deforestation. Of the 836 migratory birds under federal protection, about one quarter are in trouble.

My job is to enjoy all of it and call it like I see it. To speak the plain truth, as Edward Abbey used to say.

I grew up participating in the annual slaughter of drakes and susies, but my favorite pastime as long been observation, not killing. Especially watching songbirds. We’re blessed in winter with a host of species, including a generous population of Dark-eyed juncos. They’re usually the first to arrive, followed by Ruby-crowned Kinglets (a favorite), Golden-crowned kinglets, Sedge wren, and Brown creeper, joining our year ‘round population of Northern cardinal, Carolina wren, Black-capped and Carolina chickadee, White-breasted nuthatch, Tufted titmouse and Eastern bluebirds.

Some of our species, like the Prairie warbler, leave for the warmer, sub-tropic climate of Florida in winter, while other species, like the Common yellowthroat, stay in Florida most of the year, but find it too warm in the summer months and retreat northward to the Delta. Each species has its own, unique pattern.

Winter is the optimum season for most birders. The trees have shed their leaves and this makes the viewing easier. One can immediately and easily pick out the resplendent coat of the Northern cardinal on the stem of a leafless Dogwood. Even the grey Titmouse, usually carefully camouflaged against a steel grey sky and brownish-grey limbs, is more easily seen. But even in winter, most species are heard and not seen. It’s important to know the calls.

And all species are readily observed if you get off the couch, turn off the tee-vee and go outside. Only a few steps into your yard may reveal wonders you never know existed.

I’ve spent countless hours watching these cheerful creatures. I sometimes wonder what, if anything, goes on inside their little minds. Do they ponder us to any great extent beyond the recognition that we may be a threat? Do birds that come back to the same feeding spots, year in and year out, recognize us? I think perhaps they do.

And while humans are so busy gathering up all sorts of unneeded plastic crap and blowing up entire countries, non-humans seem content to simply gather up the necessities and go about the very real business of survival. Yes, there are territorial pissings, but you’ll never see a wren attack another wren to the point of death. An aggressive flight toward the intruder and a peck or two usually gets the message across: this patch is mine. Bugger off. And sure, other species do kill to protect territory, but humans have taken it to a whole new level.

Humans can’t stop at that, however. We have to kill if our beloved patch is invaded. Or, round-up the unwanted and place them in reservations with the threat of death should any venture beyond the approved boundary. We don’t typically fire warning shots, and I’m beginning to think we’ve developed an insatiable appetite for death and mayhem, a deplorable state that almost always coincides with economic expansion.

My wife and I were treated to a special delight on Christmas night. While traveling home from a family gathering at my brother-in-law’s we saw a Red fox scamper across the road into a patch of woods adjacent to the road. One of the few “patches” we have remaining, thanks to developers that have mowed down nearly every forest in our community. It was the first fox we’d seen in our area, although I suspected a few urban survivors were in our midst. But the elation of the sighting soon gave way to despair as we reached the end of the “property” and saw a “For Sale” sign posted adjacent to a major road.

I wondered, where will the fox go? What choices does he or she have once their home is destroyed and so few places remaining? I pictured the fox being shot at or chased as it tried to make its way through a labyrinth of steel and concrete, desperate to find a new forest.

Sigh….

When I watch birds or see animals like the fox, I often think of Ed Abbey. About the prescient nature of his words, and how he foretold most of what we’re seeing today. Except it’s even worse, I fear, than what he thought. The speed with which we’ve destroyed our home is alarming and even more alarming is the fact that we know what’s happening, We know how to fix it, yet we do not act in any meaningful or measurable way to even slow it, much less stop it.

How disheartening is it that our “hope” President left Copenhagen declaring “victory” when no firm goals and agreements were set? Real progress is stymied by greed.

Unlike non-humans that are keenly aware of their environments, that know winter is coming and know to fly south and gather food, humans do nothing. It’s analogous to flying further north where there’s less food and even fewer chances for survival. For all our science and so-called advances, we’re really, collectively, a stupid species. Watching the wren gather nesting materials and seed, I believe it perhaps lives a far superior life, and is, in fact, the more advanced species. As I sit and watch it, I wonder, what will it take for man to live as the wren?

I hear people say, “What’s happened to our country?” And to that I say, “Not much, it’s always been this way, the ugliness is just on a larger, more magnificent scale.”

Our so-called free market and democratic government have morphed into a single, ugly fascist beast. A wealthy few hold the strings of purses fattened by economic expansionism and militarism. Politicos flip back and forth from Wall Street to Washington, greasing the skids for the approved. Most of the rest (except a few steadfast anarchist holdouts like Hayduke), the so-called lucky ones, willingly jumped into the vortex of serfdom for the chance at $200K per year and the so-called good life. But that $200K comes with an unbearable price.

Did it for your kids? Why, so they’ll have a chance at jumping in with us? You never heard me telling my kids “Come on in, the water’s great!” No. I screamed, “Stay away! The water is full of sharks!”

But we have our goodies, right? iPods, iPhones, flat screens, 4 wheel drive Mastodons, lavish vacations and for many, expensive, nasty divorces. We joked about “keeping up with the Jones’” until we realized the horrible trap we’d all fallen into. That we’d become prisoners to our wealth and had no life. Not enough hiking, climbing, gardening, writing, painting or music making. All the things that make life really rich.

Even hunting beats sitting in a cubicle all day.

Myself, I would have much preferred a small rancher or cabin, nestled in a valley along side some forgotten peak. Being a teacher, a grocer or a writer. My grandfather ran a neighborhood grocery he owned. Didn’t make much money, but he made enough and had a sufficient and comfortable bungalow that was cute as a button.

I just hope I can just live out my days sitting in a rocker on a creaky front porch. Cold beer in one hand. A good book in another. Rifle propped up against the wall (in case any real estate agents, bankers or Republicans come creeping around). A good dog at my feet and the song of the wren in the air. The smell of Allison making biscuits. Fresh eggs crackling in a cast iron skillet. Hot coffee. To see and feel the breeze as it rustles through live oak and mesquite. The chirping of crickets and frogs at night. No other sounds. No leaf blowers, lawn mowers or traffic. Inside, the house is quiet except for the activity in the kitchen. A wall of books from floor to ceiling that holds my precious collection of books. Other walls holding other things precious and dear. Photos of our family. My son’s art. A nice hearth and comfortable seating. A solid table for meals. All that’s needed beyond that is the company of family and friends, perhaps a grandchild or two. Then we can share our stories of old campsites and clandestine, morally necessary activities over a square meal. We can hike the next morning up the mountain, take it all in and ponder our existence on a planet profiteers seem hell bent on destroying.

And then we die. Either with our boots as Abbey did or in some awful corporate hospital with thousand dollar tubes hanging out of every orifice.

The wren has chosen its path, and so shall we choose ours. And there’s no middle ground. Pick a side and raise your voice. Either that or get the hell out of the way. The rest of us have work to do.

Great Smoky Mountains National Park
Sunrise
12-22-09

So I’m sitting in a restaurant having lunch and cannot help but overhear a conversation taking place right next to me. Two guys, both probably in their mid-forties, talking business. Or, “b’ness” as we say in the South.

“This is how it went down. The bigwigs on the board decided to cut some overhead, so they whacked a bunch of folks. Dad’s on the board and said it was just some fat, and it would really help the dividend next time around. You should see a nice check by April.”

I realize a lot of people really believe economics is a science and enjoy discussing all sorts of sophisticated economic theories. Me, I call them masturbatory exercises in non-science. Double-talk. I mean, just ask someone to explain derivatives and what you’ll end up with is so much gobbledygook you’ll feel as if your head is going to explode. Ask an economist to give you a straight answer, with proof, that stimulus works or doesn’t work in recession and see where that gets you. It’s basically all a bunch of crap designed to provide window dressing to a system that really doesn’t work as well as we were all told back in the early days of our indoctrination.

So forget all that and listen to me. I’m just a dumb old redneck, but I think I have this one figured out: Here are the important points you should take from the conversation I overheard:

In capitalism, there are “bigwigs” or people that rule in hierarchical organizations. They rule via power and the power is gained through equity or ownership. In fact, everything in this country revolves around private property and the Constitution was set up to protect private property. It’s what those French folks call a raison d’être. Meaning, our reason for existence.

Everyone else, that means you and I (us potato peeling serfs), are the “overhead” or the “fat” that can be “whacked.” And when the bigwigs whack folks, you improve earnings, profits and dividends to the stockholders.

You’re not a human being to these types. You’re overhead. Little more than a SSN that digs into the profits the fat cats hope to pocket. My question is why do we continue to put up with this shit? Just look at what’s happening on Wall Street and with healthcare reform. Why is there no popular rebellion in this country?

Am I a pinko-commie-socialist? No, just a guy that calls it as he sees it. We can do better. We can give employees ownership, equity and a vote. We can implement a steady state economy that doesn’t rape the biosphere. We can be fair, do what’s right and all live better, less stressful lives.

It doesn’t have to be this way.