Sabbath eve, July 16, 2010.
Despite weathermen’s claims of temperatures in the upper 90’s, the heat has been brutal. The weatherman doesn’t take readings in the full sun of a South Texas hay field. Grass is thick; weather favorable for making hay. I’ve learned that I can’t let such opportunities pass. So I don’t. Today we hauled and stacked 900 bales. 880 the day before, and a similar number the day before that. We also sold and loaded 300 bales directly from the field.
Cowboys came out to work cattle on our Belmont farm today while me and the rest of the boys slaved in the hay fields. To my dismay, two calves dropped dead from heat exhaustion.
Cows now stand below our house bawling, in search of their calves, most of which have gone to the nearby livestock auction. Humans, me included, are a cruel lot.
I made the mistake of looking at the Internet when I got in. More Matt Simmons crap about the well not being the real well. On Dylan Ratigan’s show, no less. I read and profited from Twilight in the Desert. But Simmons has lost it. Maybe he doesn’t know shit about an oil well. Maybe he never did. He is a finance man, not a petroleum engineer or a geologist. From statements he has made, I don't think he has even an elementary understanding of how a rig works. Another product of higher learning institutions with no grease on his hands. And he has been talking out of his ass.
Sorry, but I can take only so much bullshit before I must speak my mind. The real catastrophe is bad enough without a bunch of baseless speculation heaped on for good measure.
As for the conspiracy theorists saying this whole thing is staged. Bull shit. BP has lied and obfuscated. Simmons estimation concerning the size of the leak is much closer to reality than the bull shit propoganda they spewed. But what you've been seeing on video footage is a live blowout, in progress, and there are a whole lot of people working day and night to contain this spill. The whole process has been documented, including scenes from the ocean surface as various tools have been fabricated and lowered to the ocean floor. I’ve seen pictures of rooms full of men operating the ROV’s. I have also seen them make one ridiculous mistake after another. You can’t get that many people on board to facilitate a hoax on the scale that would be necessary in this circumstance.
There is no “other hole” spewing 120,000 barrels of oil a day into the gulf while BP has our attention trained on fake videos. The blowout preventer and the well casing was not blown out of the well bore (a piece of production casing might have been blown from the bottom of the well, traveled through the casing and lodged in the blowout preventer, but that is a long way from all the casing being ejected from the well).
I waited and watched for a good long while, just to make sure Matt and his crew weren’t seeing something I wasn’t, but the evidence isn’t there. If there's something I missed, enlighten me. (Spare me the he said she said crap.)
I know this is going to piss some people off but I can’t suffer idiotic bull shit indefinitely.
Back to the goddamned sun and row upon row of hay bales with me.
Friday, July 16, 2010
Sunday, July 11, 2010
Friday, July 9, 2010
The unthinkable
Sabbath eve, July 9, 2010. I’m writing a bit earlier than normal. We were set to work cattle today but it rained yesterday and the forecast called for more rain today, so we postponed the cattle until next week. Now the sun is out, but there are clouds in the background. Predicting the weather in Texas is always a crap shoot. As a farmer, predict I must.
Leah and I watched a DVD last night called The Unthinkable. I don’t remember this coming to theaters nor do I remember seeing any press on the film. After watching the movie, I find the title quite appropriate; this is subject most, if not all Americans don’t want to think about, or better yet a series of subjects Americans refuse to think about.
Being a contrarian, I highly recommend the film.
Here’s the premise: An American raised Muslim convert has placed a number of timed nuclear weapons in strategic locations within the United States. He allows himself to be caught. Samuel L Jackson stars as an interrogator known simply as H with a mysterious past brought in to extract the location of the devices from the terrorist after less drastic methods of torture fail to break the man.
Jackson begins by chopping off the last digit of the man’s pinky finger with a hatchet. Then he gets serious.
At one point, the terrorist’s demands are issued: He wants the United States to stop supporting puppet dictators in Islamic nations. And, he wants American troops withdrawn from Islamic nations.
H states that these are quite reasonable demands and suggests that we should comply. But of course, leaders of the empire from both sides of the aisle consider this unthinkable.
OK, then. Here you have a very determined motherfucker about to kill millions of Americans. And a chorus of people chanting we don’t torture. Either we torture this son-of-a-bitch or your kids die.
I am reminded of Michael Scheuer’s excellent book Imperial Hubris: Why the west is losing the war on terror. We have a schizophrenic foreign policy that on one hand pursues total world dominion and control and on the other wants to be known as a benevolent nation. Take your pick, but you can’t have both.
Both Michael Scheuer and Samuel L Jackson’s H would tell you, get the fuck out of the Middle East, and for that matter, the rest of foreign nations aside from our own. And then in the next breath, they’d say, but because you aren’t going to do this, prepare to become a brutal goddamned savage and do whatever is required to win or you will lose the war your foreign policy creates.
I consider it a foregone conclusion that our empire of iron and clay will fall someday, as have its predecessors.
Most of my neighbors consider that unthinkable.
Leah and I watched a DVD last night called The Unthinkable. I don’t remember this coming to theaters nor do I remember seeing any press on the film. After watching the movie, I find the title quite appropriate; this is subject most, if not all Americans don’t want to think about, or better yet a series of subjects Americans refuse to think about.
Being a contrarian, I highly recommend the film.
Here’s the premise: An American raised Muslim convert has placed a number of timed nuclear weapons in strategic locations within the United States. He allows himself to be caught. Samuel L Jackson stars as an interrogator known simply as H with a mysterious past brought in to extract the location of the devices from the terrorist after less drastic methods of torture fail to break the man.
Jackson begins by chopping off the last digit of the man’s pinky finger with a hatchet. Then he gets serious.
At one point, the terrorist’s demands are issued: He wants the United States to stop supporting puppet dictators in Islamic nations. And, he wants American troops withdrawn from Islamic nations.
H states that these are quite reasonable demands and suggests that we should comply. But of course, leaders of the empire from both sides of the aisle consider this unthinkable.
OK, then. Here you have a very determined motherfucker about to kill millions of Americans. And a chorus of people chanting we don’t torture. Either we torture this son-of-a-bitch or your kids die.
I am reminded of Michael Scheuer’s excellent book Imperial Hubris: Why the west is losing the war on terror. We have a schizophrenic foreign policy that on one hand pursues total world dominion and control and on the other wants to be known as a benevolent nation. Take your pick, but you can’t have both.
Both Michael Scheuer and Samuel L Jackson’s H would tell you, get the fuck out of the Middle East, and for that matter, the rest of foreign nations aside from our own. And then in the next breath, they’d say, but because you aren’t going to do this, prepare to become a brutal goddamned savage and do whatever is required to win or you will lose the war your foreign policy creates.
I consider it a foregone conclusion that our empire of iron and clay will fall someday, as have its predecessors.
Most of my neighbors consider that unthinkable.
Wednesday, July 7, 2010
Anti Capitalist screed
I agree with most of Joe Bageant's assessment of the state of what we call Capitalism nowadays. I diverge on his implied notion that fuckheads like Chavez and the rest of the Communists out there provide any kind of viable or acceptable alternative.
You like getting ass raped with a dick that bends to the right or to the left?
Read it at the link:
Joe Bageant.
You like getting ass raped with a dick that bends to the right or to the left?
Read it at the link:
Joe Bageant.
Monday, July 5, 2010
More on Adams, and a new tea party
I've continued to mull over the John Adams movie and the history from which it was drawn.
It's easy to see that the various factions struggling to guide or control this country existed almost from day one. Obama and moderate Democrats seem to be from the Adams' camp of Federalists. Jefferson's version of Republicanism seems similar to the modern day Ron Paul-type libertarian movement. Hamilton's crew seem like the Neo-con/Neo-liberal movements of today, which in all honesty dominate both the Republican and Democrat camps.
As for tea parties, here's another that sprouted today. While I don't sign on to all of this, quite a bit resonates with me.
To no avail, of course.
It's easy to see that the various factions struggling to guide or control this country existed almost from day one. Obama and moderate Democrats seem to be from the Adams' camp of Federalists. Jefferson's version of Republicanism seems similar to the modern day Ron Paul-type libertarian movement. Hamilton's crew seem like the Neo-con/Neo-liberal movements of today, which in all honesty dominate both the Republican and Democrat camps.
As for tea parties, here's another that sprouted today. While I don't sign on to all of this, quite a bit resonates with me.
To no avail, of course.
Saturday, July 3, 2010
John Adams and musicians
Sabbath eve, July 2, 2010
It’s raining outside, once again. The country is green and the cattle look good. We managed to get about 4,500 bales stacked in the barn over the past two weeks and sold some hay directly from the fields as well. We also put up several hundred additional rolls of hay for our own cows.
The Southern Gulf states dodged a bullet this week when the first hurricane of the year veered west into Mexico some one hundred miles below the Texas border, in the process missing the huge oil slick floating off the coast of Louisiana, Mississippi, Alabama and Florida. I don’t know what would have happened had the storm continued to track to the North. Let’s hope we don’t find out, for the hurricane season has just begun.
There has been a lot of speculation of late concerning the blown out well in the Gulf. Seems to me the real event is bad enough without a bunch of hysterical conjecture based on unfounded rumors circulating the Internet. Some I considered experts have proven themselves less astute than I would have expected. Despite what you may think about BP or big oil or the government, no one with an ounce of decency can be happy about what has happened and everyone worth the salt in their body wants to see the flow of oil contained. This is no conspiracy, but instead a tragic accident as human engineering and technology is pushed to its limits in search of ever harder to find sources of oil.
Leah and I have been watching a miniseries about John Adams that originally aired on HBO. I found the story interesting and inspiring. Adams is portrayed as a flawed but decent man who wrestled not only with foreign entities but also with his own people and his own doubts and shortcomings as the United States of America was founded. The way for these early American men and women was never clear; personal risk and danger accompanied decisions to revolt; joys of victory were tempered by endless new problems and trials. But somehow, Adams and the rest stood and fought for what they believed against great odds. The rest is history.
I wondered as I watched the film what a guy like John Adams or the other founding fathers would think of the country we have become.
Somehow, I doubt this is what they had in mind.
PS. Early Sabbath morn. Sorry for the worthless drivel I strained to get on a page last night. Contrary to opinion, evenings, especially Sabbath evenings are not a good time for me. I'm often tired; my mind a blur. Ray Wylie Hubbard sang of day people and night people. I am most decidedly a day person.
Concerning musicians. It has come to my attention of late that the music industry is falling on hard times. Big labels are poised to go under; along with them many "big artists". Having witnessed the kind of ass-holes some of these "big artists" become after fame comes their way, it couldn't happen to a nicer bunch.
As we slide over the edge of the peak oil cliff and into the long emergency, I envision them hiding their tour busses from repo men, probably without success and then hitching down the road, indignant that such an important person has been reduced to this. Most of these guys are in hock up to their fucking eyeballs, what we once called nigger rich (my apologies to you African Americans reading this). Plenty of bling--big shiny tour busses, fancy clothes and cars, and maybe a nice rented but never owned house walled off from the rest of the world, if not then a run down shack or an apartment they never stay at. They have forgotten where they came from, who they come from and who it is that pays their way. Here's a clue: it isn't those fucking ass-holes that run record companies, it's poor working class stiffs that scrape up a few extra hard earned dollars in search of a moment's respite from the difficult grind that life as a working man, or worse yet, an unemployed working man has become in this great land.
A word of advise to artists on the rise: you'd do well to remember where you come from. You may be headed back someday.
Soon.
PSS. Concerning the reference to nigger rich, I could just have easily used the rural white boy equivalent of a drug store cowboy: Big hat, fancy boots and spurs, no cows.
It’s raining outside, once again. The country is green and the cattle look good. We managed to get about 4,500 bales stacked in the barn over the past two weeks and sold some hay directly from the fields as well. We also put up several hundred additional rolls of hay for our own cows.
The Southern Gulf states dodged a bullet this week when the first hurricane of the year veered west into Mexico some one hundred miles below the Texas border, in the process missing the huge oil slick floating off the coast of Louisiana, Mississippi, Alabama and Florida. I don’t know what would have happened had the storm continued to track to the North. Let’s hope we don’t find out, for the hurricane season has just begun.
There has been a lot of speculation of late concerning the blown out well in the Gulf. Seems to me the real event is bad enough without a bunch of hysterical conjecture based on unfounded rumors circulating the Internet. Some I considered experts have proven themselves less astute than I would have expected. Despite what you may think about BP or big oil or the government, no one with an ounce of decency can be happy about what has happened and everyone worth the salt in their body wants to see the flow of oil contained. This is no conspiracy, but instead a tragic accident as human engineering and technology is pushed to its limits in search of ever harder to find sources of oil.
Leah and I have been watching a miniseries about John Adams that originally aired on HBO. I found the story interesting and inspiring. Adams is portrayed as a flawed but decent man who wrestled not only with foreign entities but also with his own people and his own doubts and shortcomings as the United States of America was founded. The way for these early American men and women was never clear; personal risk and danger accompanied decisions to revolt; joys of victory were tempered by endless new problems and trials. But somehow, Adams and the rest stood and fought for what they believed against great odds. The rest is history.
I wondered as I watched the film what a guy like John Adams or the other founding fathers would think of the country we have become.
Somehow, I doubt this is what they had in mind.
PS. Early Sabbath morn. Sorry for the worthless drivel I strained to get on a page last night. Contrary to opinion, evenings, especially Sabbath evenings are not a good time for me. I'm often tired; my mind a blur. Ray Wylie Hubbard sang of day people and night people. I am most decidedly a day person.
Concerning musicians. It has come to my attention of late that the music industry is falling on hard times. Big labels are poised to go under; along with them many "big artists". Having witnessed the kind of ass-holes some of these "big artists" become after fame comes their way, it couldn't happen to a nicer bunch.
As we slide over the edge of the peak oil cliff and into the long emergency, I envision them hiding their tour busses from repo men, probably without success and then hitching down the road, indignant that such an important person has been reduced to this. Most of these guys are in hock up to their fucking eyeballs, what we once called nigger rich (my apologies to you African Americans reading this). Plenty of bling--big shiny tour busses, fancy clothes and cars, and maybe a nice rented but never owned house walled off from the rest of the world, if not then a run down shack or an apartment they never stay at. They have forgotten where they came from, who they come from and who it is that pays their way. Here's a clue: it isn't those fucking ass-holes that run record companies, it's poor working class stiffs that scrape up a few extra hard earned dollars in search of a moment's respite from the difficult grind that life as a working man, or worse yet, an unemployed working man has become in this great land.
A word of advise to artists on the rise: you'd do well to remember where you come from. You may be headed back someday.
Soon.
PSS. Concerning the reference to nigger rich, I could just have easily used the rural white boy equivalent of a drug store cowboy: Big hat, fancy boots and spurs, no cows.
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