Painting: The President's Smirk

click to enlarge
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Painting: The Secret Service Agents

click painting to enlarge
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The Greatest Thanksgiving Song: Alice's Restaurant by Arlo Guthrie

In 1967, Arlo Guthrie wrote and recorded what has to be the greatest Thanksgiving song of all time. Or is it the only Thanksgiving song of all time?


Alice's Restaurant
By Arlo Guthrie



This song is called Alice's Restaurant, and it's about Alice, and the restaurant, but Alice's Restaurant is not the name of the restaurant, that's just the name of the song, and that's why I called the song Alice's Restaurant.

You can get anything you want at Alice's Restaurant
You can get anything you want at Alice's Restaurant
Walk right in it's around the back
Just a half a mile from the railroad track
You can get anything you want at Alice's Restaurant

Now it all started two Thanksgivings ago, was on - two years ago on Thanksgiving, when my friend and I went up to visit Alice at the restaurant, but Alice doesn't live in the restaurant, she lives in the church nearby the restaurant, in the bell-tower, with her husband Ray and Fasha the dog. And livin' in the bell tower like that, they got a lot of room downstairs where the pews used to be in. Havin' all that room, seein' as how they took out all the pews, they decided that they didn't have to take out their garbage for a long time.

We got up there, we found all the garbage in there, and we decided it'd be a friendly gesture for us to take the garbage down to the city dump. So we took the half a ton of garbage, put it in the back of a red VW microbus, took shovels and rakes and implements of destruction and headed
on toward the city dump.

Well we got there and there was a big sign and a chain across across the dump saying, "Closed on Thanksgiving." And we had never heard of a dump closed on Thanksgiving before, and with tears in our eyes we drove off into the sunset looking for another place to put the garbage.

We didn't find one. Until we came to a side road, and off the side of the side road there was another fifteen foot cliff and at the bottom of the cliff there was another pile of garbage. And we decided that one big pile is better than two little piles, and rather than bring that one up we decided to throw our's down.

That's what we did, and drove back to the church, had a thanksgiving dinner that couldn't be beat, went to sleep and didn't get up until the next morning, when we got a phone call from officer Obie. He said, "Kid, we found your name on an envelope at the bottom of a half a ton of garbage, and just wanted to know if you had any information about it." And I said, "Yes, sir, Officer Obie, I cannot tell a lie, I put that envelope under that garbage."

After speaking to Obie for about fourty-five minutes on the telephone we finally arrived at the truth of the matter and said that we had to go down and pick up the garbage, and also had to go down and speak to him at the police officer's station. So we got in the red VW microbus with the shovels and rakes and implements of destruction and headed on toward the police officer's station.

Now friends, there was only one or two things that Obie coulda done at the police station, and the first was he could have given us a medal for being so brave and honest on the telephone, which wasn't very likely, and we didn't expect it, and the other thing was he could have bawled us out and told us never to be see driving garbage around the vicinity again, which is what we expected, but when we got to the police officer's station there was a third possibility that we hadn't even counted upon, and we was both immediately arrested. Handcuffed. And I said "Obie, I don't think I can pick up the garbage with these handcuffs on." He said, "Shut up, kid. Get in the back of the patrol car."

And that's what we did, sat in the back of the patrol car and drove to the quote Scene of the Crime unquote. I want tell you about the town of Stockbridge, Massachusets, where this happened here, they got three stop signs, two police officers, and one police car, but when we got to the Scene of the Crime there was five police officers and three police cars, being the biggest crime of the last fifty years, and everybody wanted to get in the newspaper story about it. And they was using up all kinds of cop equipment that they had hanging around the police officer's station. They was taking plaster tire tracks, foot prints, dog smelling prints, and they took twenty seven eight-by-ten colour glossy photographs with circles and arrows and a paragraph on the back of each one explaining what each one was to be used as evidence against us. Took pictures of the approach, the getaway, the northwest corner the southwest corner and that's not to mention the aerial photography.

After the ordeal, we went back to the jail. Obie said he was going to put us in the cell. Said, "Kid, I'm going to put you in the cell, I want your wallet and your belt." And I said, "Obie, I can understand you wanting my wallet so I don't have any money to spend in the cell, but what do you want my belt for?" And he said, "Kid, we don't want any hangings." I said, "Obie, did you think I was going to hang myself for littering?" Obie said he was making sure, and friends Obie was, cause he took out the toilet seat so I couldn't hit myself over the head and drown, and he took out the toilet paper so I couldn't bend the bars roll out the - roll the toilet paper out the window, slide down the roll and have an escape. Obie was making sure, and it was about four or five hours later that Alice (remember Alice? It's a song about Alice), Alice came by and with a few nasty words to Obie on the side, bailed us out of jail, and we went back to the church, had a another thanksgiving dinner that couldn't be beat, and didn't get up until the next morning, when we all had to go to court.

We walked in, sat down, Obie came in with the twenty seven eight-by-ten colour glossy pictures with circles and arrows and a paragraph on the back of each one, sat down. Man came in said, "All rise." We all stood up, and Obie stood up with the twenty seven eight-by-ten colour glossy
pictures, and the judge walked in sat down with a seeing eye dog, and he sat down, we sat down. Obie looked at the seeing eye dog, and then at the twenty seven eight-by-ten colour glossy ictures with circles and arrows and a paragraph on the back of each one, and looked at the seeing eye dog. And then at twenty seven eight-by-ten colour glossy pictures with circles and arrows and a paragraph on the back of each one and began to cry, 'cause Obie came to the realization that it was a typical case of American blind justice, and there wasn't nothing he could do about it, and the judge wasn't going to look at the twenty seven eight-by-ten colour glossy pictures with the circles and arrows and a paragraph on the back of each one explaining what each one was to be used as evidence against us. And we was fined $50 and had to pick up the garbage in the snow, but thats not what I came to tell you about.

I came to talk about the draft.

They got a building down New York City, it's called Whitehall Street, where you walk in, you get injected, inspected, detected, infected, neglected and selected. I went down to get my physical examination one day, and I walked in, I sat down, got good and drunk the night before, so I looked and felt my best when I went in that morning. `Cause I wanted to look like the all-American kid from New York City, man I wanted, I wanted to feel like the all-, I wanted to be the all American kid from New York, and I walked in, sat down, I was hung down, brung down, hung up, and all kinds o' mean nasty ugly things. And I waked in and sat down and they gave
me a piece of paper, said, "Kid, see the phsychiatrist, room 604."

And I went up there, I said, "Shrink, I want to kill. I mean, I wanna, I wanna kill. Kill. I wanna, I wanna see, I wanna see blood and gore and guts and veins in my teeth. Eat dead burnt bodies. I mean kill, Kill, KILL, KILL." And I started jumpin up and down yelling, "KILL, KILL," and he started jumpin up and down with me and we was both jumping up and down yelling, "KILL, KILL." And the sargent came over, pinned a medal on me, sent me down the hall, said, "You're our boy."

Didn't feel too good about it.

Proceeded on down the hall gettin more injections, inspections, detections, neglections and all kinds of stuff that they was doin' to me at the thing there, and I was there for two hours, three hours, four hours, I was there for a long time going through all kinds of mean nasty ugly things and I was just having a tough time there, and they was inspecting, injecting every single part of me, and they was leaving no part untouched. Proceeded through, and when I finally came to the see the last man, I walked in, walked in sat down after a whole big thing there, and I walked up and said, "What do you want?" He said, "Kid, we only got one question. Have you ever been arrested?"

And I proceeded to tell him the story of the Alice's Restaurant Massacre, with full orchestration and five part harmony and stuff like that and all the phenome... - and he stopped me right there and said, "Kid, did you ever go to court?"

And I proceeded to tell him the story of the twenty seven eight-by-ten colour glossy pictures with the circles and arrows and the paragraph on the back of each one, and he stopped me right there and said, "Kid, I want you to go and sit down on that bench that says Group W .... NOW kid!!"

And I, I walked over to the, to the bench there, and there is, Group W's where they put you if you may not be moral enough to join the army after committing your special crime, and there was all kinds of mean nasty ugly looking people on the bench there. Mother rapers. Father stabbers. Father rapers! Father rapers sitting right there on the bench next to me! And they was mean and nasty and ugly and horrible crime-type guys sitting on the bench next to me. And the meanest, ugliest, nastiest one, the meanest father raper of them all, was coming over to me and he was mean 'n' ugly 'n' nasty 'n' horrible and all kind of things and he sat down next to me and said, "Kid, whad'ya get?" I said, "I didn't get nothing, I had to pay $50 and pick up the garbage." He said, "What were you arrested for, kid?" And I said, "Littering." And they all moved away from me on the bench there, and the hairy eyeball and all kinds of mean nasty things, till I said, "And creating a nuisance." And they all came back, shook my hand, and we had a great time on the bench, talkin about crime, mother stabbing, father raping, all kinds of groovy things that we was talking about on the bench. And everything was fine, we was smoking cigarettes and all kinds of things, until the Sargeant came over, had some paper in his hand, held it up and said.

"Kids, this-piece-of-paper's-got-47-words-37-sentences-58-words-we-wanna- know-details-of-the-crime-time-of-the-crime-and-any-other-kind-of-thing- you-gotta-say-pertaining-to-and-about-the-crime-I-want-to-know-arresting- officer's-name-and-any-other-kind-of-thing-you-gotta-say", and talked for forty-five minutes and nobody understood a word that he said, but we had fun filling out the forms and playing with the pencils on the bench there, and I filled out the massacre with the four part harmony, and wrote it down there, just like it was, and everything was fine and I put down the pencil, and I turned over the piece of paper, and there, there on the other side, in the middle of the other side, away from everything else on the other side, in parentheses, capital letters, quotated, read the following words:

("KID, HAVE YOU REHABILITATED YOURSELF?")

I went over to the sargent, said, "Sargeant, you got a lot a damn gall to ask me if I've rehabilitated myself, I mean, I mean, I mean that just, I'm sittin' here on the bench, I mean I'm sittin here on the Group W bench 'cause you want to know if I'm moral enough join the army, burn women, kids, houses and villages after bein' a litterbug." He looked at me and said, "Kid, we don't like your kind, and we're gonna send you fingerprints off to Washington."

And friends, somewhere in Washington enshrined in some little folder, is a study in black and white of my fingerprints. And the only reason I'm singing you this song now is cause you may know somebody in a similar situation, or you may be in a similar situation, and if your in a situation like that there's only one thing you can do and that's walk into the shrink wherever you are ,just walk in say "Shrink, You can get anything you want, at Alice's restaurant.". And walk out. You know, if one person, just one person does it they may think he's really sick and they won't take him. And if two people, two people do it, in harmony, they may think they're both faggots and they won't take either of them. And three people do it, three, can you imagine, three people walking in singin a bar of Alice's Restaurant and walking out. They may think it's an organization. And can you, can you imagine fifty people a day,I said fifty people a day walking in singin a bar of Alice's Restaurant and walking out. And friends they may thinks it's a movement.

And that's what it is , the Alice's Restaurant Anti-Massacre Movement, and all you got to do to join is sing it the next time it come's around on the guitar.

With feeling. So we'll wait for it to come around on the guitar, here and sing it when it does. Here it comes.

You can get anything you want, at Alice's Restaurant
You can get anything you want, at Alice's Restaurant
Walk right in it's around the back
Just a half a mile from the railroad track
You can get anything you want, at Alice's Restaurant

That was horrible. If you want to end war and stuff you got to sing loud. I've been singing this song now for twenty five minutes. I could sing it for another twenty five minutes. I'm not proud... or tired. So we'll wait till it comes around again, and this time with four part harmony and feeling. We're just waitin' for it to come around is what we're doing. All right now.

You can get anything you want, at Alice's Restaurant
Excepting Alice
You can get anything you want, at Alice's Restaurant
Walk right in it's around the back
Just a half a mile from the railroad track
You can get anything you want, at Alice's Restaurant

Da da da da da da da dum
At Alice's Restaurant

©1966,1967 (Renewed) by Appleseed Music Inc. All Rights Reserved.
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The Band Had Their Last Waltz Thirty Years Ago Today

On Thanksgiving thirty years ago, mainly at Robbie Robertson's insistence, The Band threw in the towel at a massive concert in the Winterland Ballroom in San Francisco, California. It featured a Thanksgiving dinner for all the guests, before a very long concert that lasted until 2 A.M. The Band had a horn section with arrangements by Alan Toussaint (as they also did in the Rock of Ages show years earlier), and a stellar list of guests, appearances by The Hawk (Ronnie Hawkins), Neil Young, Joni Mitchell, Muddy Waters, Dr. John, Bob Dylan, Van



Morrison, Ringo Starr, Eric Clapton, Ronnie Wood, Paul Butterfield, and Neil Diamond, and even readings by poets Lawrence Ferlinghetti and Michael McClure.

The concert was filmed by Martin Scorsese, and was combined with interviews with a somewhat stunned and cranky Band. (There would be a loud dispute between Levon Helm over the movie, and Scorsese putting the spotlight on Robertson. They recorded soundstage performances with country singer Emmylou Harris ("Evangeline") and legendary gospel-soul group The Staple Singers ("The Weight"). Released in 1978 as The Last Waltz, the film is considered one of the best rock movies of all time. It was directed by Martin Scorsese. CD sets were also issued (and continue to sell).



After one last studio record, The Band split for good. Danko, Helm, Manuel, and Hudson later reformed the group and recorded and toured, but they never got the momentum going. Richard Manuel hung himself while on tour. Danko died in 1999 in Woodstock. Both Garth Hudson and Levon Helm still perform and live in the Woodstock area.



The Band, more than any other group, put rock and roll back in touch with its roots. With their rootsy songs and love of varied musical idioms, the Band spanned the years, and made American cultural connections during the turbulent 60s and early 70s. Robbie Robertson songs were obviously Dylan influenced, and drew from history to create filmic tunes. The Band had three distinct and wonderful singers: Rick Danko, drummer Levon Helm and keyboardist Richard Manuel. They harmonized in various robust combinations (Danko and Helm singing twin leads, veering in and out of harmony on Don't Do It is a great example). Except for Robertson, they all played several instruments (Danko, Bass and violin; Manuel: Piano and drums; Hudson: Saxaphone, organ, piano, accordian; Helm, Drums, guitar, mandolin). Their music incorporated many musical idioms--from carnival music of the early 20th century up to the doo wop revues of the Fifties, as well as the blues, country, and bluegrass. The Band walked with the kings.


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The Wrong Place At The Right Time: Secret Service Agents Reported Missing Following Barbara Bush Purse Theft

John Kincaid and Nicholas Cimino, Secret Service

Following an incident in which President Bush's daughter Barbara's purse was stolen in a Buenos Aires restaurant, two Secret Service agents have apparently disappeared.

The agents have not been in contact with their families for nearly a week. E-mails and calls to their cell phones have not been returned. Beltway speculators believe the agents are incarcerated in a U.S.-controlled prison facility in South America. The families of the two agents, however, have a darker story to tell, and believe the agents are the victims of foul play.

A White House staffer told a reporter from All This Is That that President Bush was apoplectic when informed of the incident. The President was quoted by one staffer saying: "I don't want to see these agents put out to pasture with a severance package. They're dead! If they got close enough to snatch her purse, they were close enough to kill her! What the f*** do we even have Secret Service for? I rely on them to keep my family safe and they can't even handle a trip to a restaurant! I'm glad they're in South America, because if they were here, I'd take bolt cutters to their balls! I'm supposed to be thankful no one's taken a shot at a President in 20 years? Well, I'm not. I'll have someone's head for this. Did this happen because I made them a part of Homeland Security? S**t! Those clowns could f*** up a two-car funeral."


First Daughter Barbara Bush had her purse and cell phone stolen as she had dinner at a Buenos Aires restaurant, even though she was under heavy guard by a Secret Service detail, according to ABC News. Another White House staffer, working the security advance detail, got into an fracas with unidentified Argentinians following "a night out." The aide was badly beaten, according to a local law enforcement official. The Secret Service said today the incident was an attempted mugging that went bad. There are rumors that the altercation was much darker that. Reporters have been unable to contact this agent, leading to speculation that he may also have "gone missing."

Two committees in the House of Representatives are reported considering opening investigations into both the breach of security and the apparent disappearance of the agents.

All This Is That's investigation of this incident continues and we will release breaking news throughout the Thanksgiving holiday week.
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Terry Melanson on Michael Richards: Freemason, Shriner, Racist

Following up on my recent post on Michael Richards, Terry Melanson, who runs the fascinating Illuminati Conspiracy Archive, wrote to me.:

"Yes, I was on to the same theme as you. Right after I watched it. I had already known that he was a 33rd and a Shriner. Not only is his racism a symptom of his masonic affiliation - Richards is in the highest echelons where the current of white superiority has always lurked.Here's my new article: Michael Richards: Freemason, Shriner, Racist
By Terry, at 1:59 PM, November 22, 2006 "

My piece just lightly touched on this, in my normal haphazard fashion, but Terry has thoroughly researched, and written a long post on Richards' Freemason connections, along with a lot of data on Masonry's history in race relations. Click here t0 read Michael Richards: Freemason, Shriner, Racist.

Happy Thanksgiving!

/jack
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Is there a Masonic connection to Michael Richards Racist Outburst?

During a disastrous November 17, 2006, comedy routine at The Laugh Factory in West Hollywood, California, Michael Richards a/k/a "Kramer" responded to an African-American heckler with racially charged comments, yelling, "Fifty years ago we'd have you upside-down with a f***ing fork up your ass"--an apparent reference to lynching. He said over and over "He's a n****r!". Richards walked off of the stage and a Laugh Factory employee came on stage and attempted to apologize.

Three days later, in a November 20th satellite appearance on the Late Show With David Letterman (with Jerry Seinfeld as the guest) Richards apologized, saying, "For me to be at a comedy club and flip out and say this crap, I'm deeply, deeply sorry... I'm not a racist. That's what's so insane about this." He described his outburst as one of "pure rage." He was clearly shattered and confused during the appearance, which goes no distance in ameliorating the damage done. Every time something like this happens, it feels like it turns back the clock just a little.

The apology was as pathetic as the original outburst. It made me wonder how I might react in the same instance. If you are a regular reader, you may remember, I too, grew up cracker. All those hateful words and the jokes, and the images are buried somewhere inside me too. I think I could be just as angry, but I don't think I could, or would, play the race card. The fact that he even came up with the pitchfork image makes you wonder what is really in his heart. The fact that he would immediately bring up lynching seems to negate everything he has attempted to say in apology.

Interestingly, the Wikipedia tells of Richards' Masonic connections. Despite his protests, and if what I've read is correct, membership in the Masons sounds tantamount to being a racist:

"Richards is a Master Mason, and also holds 33° in the Scottish Rite; he is very active in preservation of masonic research, and in his personal life is an avid reader. He is a member of the following lodges: Riviera Lodge No. 780, Culver City–Foshay No. 467 lodge, Southern California
Research Lodge. He is also a Life Member of the Los Angeles Scottish Rite Valley and a Life Member of the Scottish Rite Research Society."

According to Freemasonrywatch.org Masonry is:

"An organization dedicated to brotherhood, Masonry ironically remains a bulwark of racial segregation in the United States. By 1987, decades after most American institutions had accepted racial integration, only four of the forty-nine Grand Lodges could count even one black member in their jurisdictions. As the author of a recent scholarly study of black Freemasonry observes, "The legitimation of social intermingling between black and white Masons has remained anathema in mainstream Freemasonry."' (from the Handbook of Secret Organizations by William J. Whalen)

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Robert Altman, R.I.P.

Robert Altman has died at the age of 81. He was one of my very favorite directors, and directed three of the greatest movies released in the 70's: M*A*S*H*, McCabe and Mrs. Miller, and Nashville. Most recently, he released another great ensemble film, A Prairie Home Companion. Robert Altman was enormously influential, quirky, and cranky, and he changed the way we make movies. Not a bad life's work.
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Joni Mitchell's "Furry (Lewis) Sings The Blues"

Memphis is probably the birthplace of the Blues. On Beale Street, near the Mississippi River, the blues entered the mainstream. More or less. Furry put out his first recordings there, in the late 1920's. Later, the blues would drift north, to Chicago and south to New Orleans.



Walter Furry Lewis (1892-1979) played with W.C. Handy a/k/a the "Father of the Blues". Stanley Booth wrote about Furry in Playboy in 1970: "In Chicago, at the old Vocalion studios on Wabash Avenue, he made the first of many recordings he was to make, both for Vocalion and for RCA Victor's Bluebird label. But Beale Street's great era ended at the close of the 1920s; since then, Furry has had only one album of his own - a 1959 Folkways LP. "

"Nor, since the Depression, has he performed regularly, even in his home town. He makes his living as a street sweeper. When he does play, it is usually at the Bitter Lemon, a coffeehouse that caters mainly to the affluent East Memphis teenaged set, but whose manager, Charley Brown, is a blues enthusiast and occasionally hires Furry between rock-'n'-roll groups. " You can read Booth's entire article on the Joni Mitchell web site. Joni's web site treats the Fair Use clause of the copyright act with an even more generous interpretation than All This Is That.

By the time I became aware of the blues, Furry was in a (long delayed) resurgence. Most of what we knew of the blues was what we heard filtered through the Brits like the Rolling Stones, John Mayall, The Yardbirds, and Eric Clapton (and later, people like Stevie Ray Vaughn or Bonnie Raitt). I saw a show about him on PBS in about 1971, and people were speaking highly of his music. When he was finally back in the spotlight, he began recording again, and people like Joni were paying attention to him. He even opened a huge stadium show for the Rolling Stones. From 1930 onward, Stanley Booth estimated that Furry had likely made less than $100 a year from his music. That changed in the 1970's, but it had been a long time coming. Furry had worked as a street cleaner for many years.

Furry was known for both his singing, and his bottleneck slide guitar playing. Joni Mitchell interviewed him (I can't find for what) , and later wrote her song "Furry Sings the Blues".

Furry was reportedly mad about Mitchell's tune--he thought he should have received a chunk of the royalties. It's a great song. I don't know if Furry got screwed or not, but this song led me to buy some of his recordings. . .

















Furry Sings The Blues
by Joni Mitchell

Old Beale Street is coming down
Sweeties' Snack Bar, boarded up now
And Egles The Tailor and the Shine Boy's gone
Faded out with ragtime blues
Handy's cast in bronze
And he's standing in a little park
With a trumpet in his hand
Like he's listening back to the good old bands
And the click of high heeled shoes
Old Furry sings the blues
Propped up in his bed
With his dentures and his leg removed
And Ginny's there
For her kindness and Furry's beer
She's the old man's angel overseer

Pawn shops glitter like gold tooth caps
In the grey decay
They chew the last few dollars off
Old Beale Street's carcass
Carrion and mercy
Blue and silver sparkling drums
Cheap guitars, eye shades and guns
Aimed at the hot blood of being no one
Down and out in Memphis Tennessee
Old Furry sings the blues
You bring him smoke and drink and he'll play for you
lt's mostly muttering now and sideshow spiel
But there was one song he played
I could really feel

There's a double bill murder at the New Daisy
The old girl's silent across the street
She's silent - waiting for the wrecker's beat
Silent - staring ar her stolen name
Diamond boys and satin dolls
Bourbon laughter- ghosts - history falls
To parking lots and shopping malls
As they tear down old Beale Street
Old Furry sings the blues
He points a bony finger at you and
"I don't like you"
Everybody laughs as if it's the old man's standard joke
But it's true
We're only welcome for our drink and smoke

W.C. Handy I'm rich and I'm fay
And I'm not familiar with what you played
But I get such strong impressions of your hey day
Looking up and down old Beale Street
Ghosts of the darktown society
Come right out of the bricks at me
Like it's a Saturday night
They're in their finery
Dancing it up and making deals
Furry sings the blues
Why should I expect that old guy to give it to me true
Fallen to hard luck
And time and other thieves
While our limo is shining on his shanty street
Old Furry sings the blues
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Tired Of "Puttin' On The Ritz" To Shop At Wal-Mart?

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Rove Held For Threatening President Under Terrorism Law He Authored

Karl Rove was taken into custody late Saturday night by the Secret Service and is being held at an undisclosed location.

Karl Rove and President Bush met to discuss the increasingly virulent rumors of his departure ("Damnit George! These aren't rumors. They're leaks!"). He arranged the meeting after a heated discussion with White House Counsel Harriet Miers on Friday. Miers reportedly told Rove "Can't you take a f***ing hint? Do we have to have you physically removed, or can you see the writing on the wall? It's over Karl. You're out."

Rove was livid, but calmed down before the after-dinner meeting with The President. Sources, however, told All This Is That that the meeting quickly erupted into charges and counter-charges, in which Rove directly questioned the President's honesty and intelligence. Bush took umbrage and demanded that Rove apologize and only address him as Mister President in the future. Rove then became so abusive that The President literally hit the panic button. Four officers rushed in, restrained him and drove him away in a black S.U.V. Rove is being held incommunicado due to "national security reasons." The Secret Service is holding him under the same rules designed to detain Al Qaeda operatives and others indefinitely. Ironically, Karl Rove helped draft the rules that suspend habeas corpus for terror suspects.
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Poem: Changes 20/Contemplation

The wind scours the desolate earth
Flaying turf and churning surf
The literal and figurative ablution

Is made
But not yet the offering
Or the prayer

Because the way is unclear
You look for an omen
Like the old kings

And contemplate
Advance and retreat
Fight or flight

Waiting for The Lamplighter
In his own sweet time
To show you the sign.
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