THE GREAT ANESTHETIZATION                                                                                                                                                                                                                                             In the epoch of 'The Great Anesthetization'                                                                                               Progress is an axial word.                                                                                                                           All is controlled by false imageization.                                                                                                     The truth, seldom uttered or heard.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                               Vices run rampant and virtue is feigned.                                                                                                   The she-wolf is always well fed.                                                                                                               Lawyers turn liars and Justice turns lame,                                                                                                 The fish rotting first from the head.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                               Logic forsaken in favor of power,                                                                                                             The lion is no less denied.                                                                                                                         Liberty, Freedom, sent back to the tower                                                                                                   Until all the mayhem subsides.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                     Wisdom and Knowledge are buried  'neath nonsense.                                                                               The knave and the fool take the stage.                                                                                                       Art is reduced to gimmicks and pretense.                                                                                                 The poet is left but to rage.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                             Mechanized music is heard through the land,                                                                                           Mediocrity placed up on high.                                                                                                                   Monotonous drone leaves the lyric disbanded,                                                                                         With less for the ear than the eye.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                 Apostatic jargon replaces all Faith.                                                                                                           Mercy and kindness are lean.                                                             ,                                                       Hope does not spring but in guise of a wraith,                                                                                           Who does not uplift but demean.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                   Courage is wanting for even the brave,                                                                                                     In seeking the perpetrators.                                                                                                                       The never seen enemies skillfully stave                                                                                                     All rebuke that comes close to their door.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                     Opulent profligates flaunt and parade,                                                                                                       While the homeless and hungry increase.                                                                                                 Journalists play to the shameless charade.                                                                                                 The pomp never comes to surcease.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                               Pornography serves to enervate Love.                                                                                                       The leopard can easily deceive.                                                                                                                 Violence and sex go like hand and glove,                                                                                                 When lust, greed and wrath interweave.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                       The fate of the unborn is put up on trial                                                                                                     Woman's choice is the law of the land.                                                                                                     Religious fanatics in predictable style                                                                                                       Myopically misunderstand.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                           Specious compounds of fiendish device                                                                                                   Are set out as traps to ensnare                                                                                                                   Any and all, who would so be enticed,                                                                                                     To escape to an insular lair.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                           Global arms dealing tops the sales charts,                                                                                                 The acme of capital's crown.                                                                                                                     Conscientious objectors are tagged bleeding-hearts                                                                                 No one may dare slow it down !                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                   Systemic toxicity threatens extinction.                                                                                                     Each element is under siege.                                                                                                                     Blatant abusers are given extensions                                                                                                         Without even losing prestige.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                         Ineluctably , apathy passes for Prudence.                                                                                                 Impotence leads to despair.                                                                                                                       The future seems lost to inveterate fraudulence.                                                                                       THE PATHOS - BEYOND COMPARE.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                     

A Charmed Life

Life is good when a person's time is free to pursue the endeavors which are uniquely suited to his or her self. If this should be one and the same and coincide with being gainfully employed, so much the better for this fortunate soul. If not---Strive to make time for those 'stolen moments' to follow your Bliss !

National Meatball Day

Today is National Meatball Day; but growing up Italian in the Overbrook section of West Philadelphia, every Sunday was Meatball Day.

My mother would make a big batch of three meat (pork, veal and beef) meatballs every Sunday morning and fry them up in olive oil.  Sometime in the late 80's she succumbed to specious health arguments and started to bake them.  The baked version never had the crispy outside of the fried, and I have never had any better since.

My brother Neil and I would come back from Sunday mass at St. Donato's and head straight for the freshly fried meatballs my mother had set aside to cool before putting them in the gravy.

That is GRAVY not SAUCE. 

She would holler not to keep eating them before they went in the gravy, but her protests were hollow and we ignored them as we would sneak back in the kitchen for seconds and thirds before they went into the gravy.  

She was concerned because she needed to stretch the meat and gravy until Thursday.  My mother's pan fried meatballs are a cherished childhood memory. One that I will forever savor.

About 10 years ago, my wife Dusty and I brought her down to our home in Virginia Beach where she actually held class in our kitchen instructing our Southern friends on how to make Eva's meatballs.

Today, I have expanded on her recipe and added lamb to create a 4 meat meatball; which I fry, thank you.

So today, March 9, 2018, in honor of National Meatball Day, go home and make some meatballs and get some good Italian bread (not available in every state) and make yourself a nice meatball sandwich with a garnish of hot peppers and sprinkled with Romano and Parmesan cheese.

God how I miss my mother's meatballs.

there is no definitive beginning to anything---only a continuum of interdependence within which we define time, space, and phenomena----for the purposes of negotiating our way through this inconceivable infinity---this knowledge implies awareness of no further compulsion to become emotionally on intellectually bound to any of the realms that can be mentally construed from the vast ocean of perceptual possibilities

Remembering the Forgotten on Memorial Day

Memorial Day is the day we set aside to honor those individuals who have given their lives for our country.  

Nearly 50 years ago I was the prime age of the men who were drafted to fight in Vietnam, but was lucky enough to have been disqualified for any military service.  Many people of my generation were not as lucky or actually volunteered to join the military to fight in Vietnam. 

Of the guys I grew up with who went to Vietnam, none died in battle in South East Asia; but they all returned so completely altered they were never the same again.

At least three came back so damaged they died by their own hand within a few years of returning to the States.  Not every one simply committed suicide.  In fact only one overtly committed suicide.   The others died of drug addiction, which is a slow form of suicide.

Today, as a result of our never-ending wars in the Middle East, veterans commit suicide after returning to the states at an alarming rate.   They too should be considered casualties of war who gave their lives in military service.

So on this Memorial Day as we honor the men and women who have lost their lives fighting for our country, let's also remember these forgotten casualties.

Think About Thinking

"Once you understand that what you think about is what controls your life, you start getting real carefu1 about what you think about," Wayne W. Dyer, Ph.D.

the gambler

an original on the dharma--------- what draws a man to madness ?---what makes him think that he---can harness light and darkness---to create that which is free ?---what makes him think there's light and dark ?---what bounds define what's free ?---whatever makes him disembark---on 'you' and 'them' and 'me' ?---two worlds he has before him---one earthly, one unseen---each has it's pleasure in the swim---each has it's own smokescreen---i pose the question to all concerned---from sacred to obscene---why can't a man fill the fire that burns---and still be self redeemed ?---does one so drain the other---for he who drinks to the hilt ?---is it really divine mother---who so entwines this quilt----of man's existence---to truly make us side---between the worldly appetence---and the meditative bride ?---the problem leaves me baffled---helpless and forlorn---the freest minds then shackled---not one of us freeborn---to take what life can offer---and still fulfill the soul---making every man a gambler---between wants and self control----what draws a man to madness ?---what makes him think that he---can harness light and darkness---to create that which is free ?---what makes him think there's light and dark ?---what bounds define what's free ?---for all this man can leave one mark---and that is just to BE !