I’ve been listening to Joni Mitchell’s new CD “Shine” for two days now. 

If the citizens of this country blindly accept the depletion of our civil rights then it will be easier for the children and the grandchildren to accept the end of them entirely.  And then what?   

The Constitution and The Declaration of Independence are only 61 pages long in my small hardback.  So go buy 10 copies at B&N or AMAZON using the links on this page, type in “The Constitution” next to books, and buy 10 copies, one for yourself, 9 to give away. 

Make it happen.  Spread the word.  Then throw in the Federalist Papers and the Bill of Rights a week later.  You won’t believe how good you’ll feel.   

Onward and Upward, folks, before it’s too damn late. 

I had an appointment this morning in LA.  So I left Palm Springs promptly at 8:00 a.m. for my 11:30 a.m. breakfast meeting.  I arrived at 11:40 a.m.  The 10 was clogged like shit in a stopped up commode.  The fact that it takes 3 1/2 hours to drive 123 miles is only half the problem.  The other half is that my Jag died driving back from LA this afternoon.  I was zooming along, listening to Randi Rhodes on the radio, the ice cold AC blowing on my feet and face when suddenly my car started to sputter.  I was pressing the accelerator but no gas was getting to the engine.  Going 10 mph on a freeway where the average speed around me was 80 mph and crawling my Jag across 4 lanes of traffic was a feat I accomplished and I’m alive to finish the story.  I reached under the seat for my shoes, (I drive barefooted), and called AAA.  I was told to immediately press my membership number into my cell phone.  First of all, the AAA card is in my wallet in my bag on the floor.  Second of all, I’m sitting in 110 degree heat on the side of the 60.  Third and final, I couldn’t find my reading glasses.  So, not wanting to exit the car and get crushed, realizing it would be after rush hour before my road kill splatter was found, I turned the key, the Jag started, and I pressed on the gas, my goal being the exit I could see ahead of me.  I made it to the top of the exit.  Then the sputtering started again.  I drifted down the exit ramp, off the 60, onto some very busy road with nothing around but buildings being built.  I coasted to what could have been called the side of the road if there was a side to the road but there wasn’t so I pulled over next to a curb and called AAA, again.  This time I had my reading glasses on, my AAA card in my hand, and I was off the freeway.  AAA put me in touch with their local contracted tow company and I pondered and then decided that no way was I not sleeping in my bed tonight.  I cut a deal with the tow truck owner to haul my Jag on top of a flatbed and take me to Palm Springs with my car, first dropping off the car at my Jag place and then hauling my ass home.  All for 300 bucks.  It was over 56 miles to my gate.  At 9 dollars a mile, I saved some money on that deal and got home besides.  I’d pay almost anything to sleep in my own bed. 

The blanket of fear that Bush, his superiors and the media have spread over the country is like a virus.  You don’t know how immobolized you are until it’s too late.  The culture is cautious.  A brave night on the town is a starlet with no panties, flashing the camera.  That’s as courageous as the culture gets.  Kowtowing is in vogue.  It makes me sick.  And angry…  March to the drum.  Hunker down.  Shiver and shake.  Is that my shadow?  Here, take this civil right away from me, I’m freaked… 

Come on, rattle some ass, sing loud and make noise.  Spin and turn.  Leap and kick.  Embrace a neighbor.  Wink at a stranger.  The culture is us.  We are in charge.  The people.  US.        

I suggest to President Bush that if he wants to “replenish” his coffers that he suit up and go to Iraq and join the war he started.  The Army would welcome him.