ZZZZzzzzzzzzzzz, I dreamed a dream of Creation. A dream so vivid and visceral that when the angels wept I watched as their tears touched down and made those little slow motion crown shaped splashes, each part of which caught the dazzling starlight and split off rainbows vectoring in every direction, embracing me in pure color and rapturous sensation. Then i woke up and pulled a groin muscle getting out of bed. Speaking of which, can somebody 'splain to me why all the hubbub and tittering about teabagging anti tax parties last week in the media. While cute and funny to separate out the sexual context with pun and double entendre and underscore the dilemma of all things republican, its not like its anything new. In my day it was called getting a "hummer" and was actually a more evolved practice since it included having your loving partner hum your favorite tune while gargling the twins. My favorite has always been and will always be "Stars and Stripes Forever". HHmmmmm HHmmmmm Hm-Hm-Hmmm Hm-HmHmmmmm, Hm-HmHmmmm HmHmHmmmmm Hm-Heh-Hmmmm-Hm etc.. Auditions tuesday and friday nights, nine to midnight. I mean C'mon. I dreamed a dream of a world populated with choco-hempo-fungitarians (with a side order of Fong dog). A world descendant from a thought so Pure in Intent as to render the mind a Diamond emanating the light of Healing Wisdom. A world in which every act starts and finishes in Love. A world in which that Pure Original Thought and Intent is never forgotten and always embraced. Then I took some glucosamine sulfate cream that my mom gave me and rubbed my crotchel region until the pain subsided. As I was rubbing my groin, I realized that the bailouts are never gonna work ( i know, strange). Not because they could'nt, but because there's no love to be found. The souless Oligreedbots had to sell their hearts to Don Diablo Inc. of San Jose (with offices in Mexico City, Paris, London, Moscow, New York and Paia) for the thrill of earthly pleasure/treasure. They pillage and plunder while all the while feeding the souls of those who hunger for knowledge by teaching them how Not to be, but then if not that, what? So much of our day to day life feeds back into the Kali like grip of this ubiquitous matrix, with app. after app. telling us how to be or not to be (thanks, Willy). I dreamed a dream of no more quid pro quo, just weep no more. I dreamed a dream of the day when all our hearts, like farmers in a dust bowl, find our voice, like the blessing of a Spring rain and proclaim that victory Is as victory Does and that what we do, is our best. I dreamed a dream in which that was enough. Talked to my kid the other day who is campaigning in Alabama and has recently rubbed elbows with the spate of tornadoes passing through the region. From his place of work, the roof of a neighbors barn could be seen flying through space at an altitude of about three hundred feet. Just thought i'd throw that in for those of you overly concerned about split ends, creepy people next door or undercooked pizza.. Doc bebockboc and nurse Sally stopped by the other day to take a gander at the chicklettes. Four thumbs up. Doc said that given the amount of space they have now, there should'nt be too many feathers ruffled from here on out. He suggested that I consider putting some meds in their water supply to assure immune system strength. I asked him if there were any dangerous side effects and he said that aside from hicclucking, hang beak, eggs with sharp edges, and jelly feather, no problemo. I told him about the one remaining escape artist that clearly has the power to "beam" itself out of the enclosure, but not back in. He said he had seen that once before in Montana, but there it was a case of the farmer waking up in the chicken house without knowing how he got there, except that each time, there was this one chicken with glowing red eyes staring him down while scratching at the earth and pacing back and forth. He started feeding them more rendered cow parts and it stopped happening. Big ol' shout out to all of you who came out and made the season opener a pip. It was a four bagger, as in four 55 gallon gahbidge bags full after cleanup and as in a home run. Many thanks to the impromptu helpful hands who made tidying up a breeze. Came out with seven beers, half a bottle of pinot and some peanut sauce and corn chips to show for it. Hair of the dog. We've got the usual supply of foodstuffs at the usual Mana minus 20% price tag. Made a batch of pesto yesterday using a bit of arugula and endive in the mix. Much Yumm. Give a call @ 8786287 and if nobody answers its because I just got caller i.d. and I don't like you. The more you come, the more we'll grow. Peace, Jp