Wrong Again

Everyone hates a pessimist.

Despite my predictions, the Eugene City Council deadlocked 4-4 on whether to extend the permit for the Occupy camp until January 8.  The mayor broke the tie in favor of Occupy, and she is taking much heat in the local MSM, because of funds that will be used to help people, people who actually need the help, and not some whiner making six figures...the official poverty level reached 50 million and half of all Americans are officially poor.

Divide and Conquer still applies. 

Eugene continues to be one of the only cities where an Occupy camp is still up and running. But the practical folks, the folks who say Hey, but you promised us roads, make me want to down a hemlock nightcap and drive up into the mountains until convulsions toss me into an abyss--

More meetings have been called for next week, and I have a fair amount of analysis to do before then.

This type of activity makes it difficult to write, as the recent dearth of posts indicates--but I will get the next bit from this string posted soon--

Also--now seems a good time to repost one from last year, If I Disappear:

4.16.2010

If I Disappear...

...it could be because I went Mad for the Gale and Refused to Come In, and now I can't whine as my body slams against the cliffs in the towering Big Sur surf that drove Kerouac over, bits of brain and kelp and bone matter roiling about me in pinkish sea-foam...

Or maybe I got a little too close to The Man this time, right before they blew him to flaming bits, DMT or Salvinorin A or maybe the multiple concussions I sustained as a lad cutting off all access to any decent pre-frontal lobe sense of self-preservation--

Or perhaps I was stabbed and robbed whilst in an opium/hashish stupor in a thatched hut deep in a misty Myanmar jungle, strange animal and human cries falling dead and muffled as if on snow--

Or maybe--and this is my favorite, I think-- I was ripped to death by bear, by just being stupid, camping yet again in an off-limits section of Cascadia, getting stoned while I tossed out a pad and my bag and another pad for the dog, careful to stay above the incoming tide and build a small fire downwind, then just forgetting and sleeping next to nearly a pound of smoked salmon...

The point is, the scenarios above describe arguably unsavory and untimely ways to die.

But I'll take any of them over being tortured to death or hunted for sport on another human's say-so.