Bird House

Four different species of birds have come into the human and proto human residence areas of the Cow Barn, to date. These are Bewick's wren, Carolina wren, great-tailed grackle and northern cardinal. The wrens just pop in and find their ways back out with no trouble. The grackles come in, get into the pet food and water dishes, crap all over everthing and have to be captured and forcibly evicted. But today, for the first time a cardinal came in.

This is the manner of the cardinal coming in. He came flying along lickety split, hit a sliding glass door, ricochetted (two ts is OK) off the sliding glass door and fetched up behind a large and heavy and tall cabinet decorated in an Egyptian motif like a sarcophagous that contains most of the RGVECB electric entertainment devices and will eventually be recycled as a coffin. I, the Crumby Ovate saw this and thought, "Will this little wonder be more like a wren or more like a grackle?"

Note that the Crumby Ovate did not actually do anything, yet. Rather he continued, as previously, to recline in his LAZY BOY recliner, reflecting on a miserable half day at the ****, and nursing various stress induced maladies including a headache and an upset stomach, and impatiently awaiting the Alka Seltzer to kick in. About 15 minutes elapsed with the CO in situ in his LAZY BOY, grumpy and annoyed, and watching The Daily Show (repressive desublimation on steroids) when the CO heard a thump from behind him in the kitchen.

Groan! But the CO still didn't actually do anything except get up out of the LAZY BOY and open the sliding glass door to maximum openness and check on the whereabouts of the dogs and cat. Then he went back to getting repressivlely desublimated by the TV. But then he started to hear more thumps and pretty soon the thumps took on a visual significance as the red bird thumped onto a precarious perch on a picture frame. Groan!

"Pretty bird, fly on out the door now. See! It's wide open!"
Thump......Thump......................Thump. Groan!

Clearly, this particular redbird was addlepated from its collision with the sliding glass door and needed some assistance egressing which it obviously wanted to do, egress. Groan! So the CO got up out of his LAZY BOY AGAIN (Groan!)and proceeded to follow the thumps round and about the human and proto human residence area. Now you may not think so, but the CO has a knack for catching birds out of the air with his bare hands, but this time the knack never came into play because the redbird eventually thumped under an end table in the living room and there the CO pounced on him. And from the time the CO had the redbird in hand until the time the CO opened the front door and released the redbird and the redbird took wing, he, the redbird, never stopped squeaking. The CO, who habitually counts everything, counted 69 redbird squeaks while the redbird was in his, the COs, hand.

The manner in which the cardinal was like grackles is that he didn't egress by himself. The manner in which the cardinal was like wrens is that he didn't crap all over the house.

The CO never did start feeling better so eventually he took abed and the White Goddess sent dreams, mostly of the comfort of the thighs variety, to comfort him, but also one of the totem variety. And this is what She explained to the CO in the totem dream, "Though you be trapped in a place that is evil for you, keep squeaking and I will hear you and rescue you." And that's what She did do, so today I feel all better.

Ray's Thought for the Day

Let's see here, a 229-193 vote in favor of:

1) scientific data "sanitized" by the prezidinks golf buddies

2) landowner compensation for "potential" property values

3) no critical habitat designations

4) guaranteed 6 month agency review of proposed projects

These are the main provisions in a bill to "fix" the Endangered Species Act that's now headed for the senate. This bill deserves 4 oinks. Oink, oink, oink, oink.

Follow the trail to get to the trough. It's an easy trail to follow, well beaten, as it were.

Clean air, clean water, nature, culture and environmental justice are what's endangered.

Ray's Thought for the Day

Today I, Ray will be doing some transmigrating, to whit, I will assume the semblage of the Crumby Ovate, and go along to his job, fer 'em. Anon, we shall see what happens, from that.

Tonight, we shall have an interesting subtopic, Neer, Agrostis?

Getting to Go!

Ray, Baby, Ray

P.S. Nancy, the Goddess of Practical Jokes is taking a short break from spelling The Adventures of Blodeuwedd to work on a fart whistle. Right now it sounds too much like a duck.

_____

Today went purty well, bein' the CO. Nobody guessed it was me, Ray. Course I did take the precaution of losin' the presumed CO off in the woods by himself most of the time. The highlights were, meeting a fox, enumerating a great many little wonders like (Liatris elegans)and gettin' back to the Cow Barn alive and undetected.

Roaring Announcement

Today I, the Crumby Ovate, while sort of working at Schaeffer Bend, hard upon the Colorado River, and within the bermudagrass community, flushed a rail. Rails are not seen much in these parts, and the Crumby Ovate was happy to see this one flapping along with its feet dragging in the bermudagrass, but sad, that he, the CO, flushed it and made it fly off upgrade. The rail looked like it was tired, but then, rails always look tired, flying.

The rail was flushed just beyond the archaeologist and the backhoe, yea verily on the other side of those in a further extension of the bermudagrass community. Perhaps the bermudagrass community has other plants,in it. Yepper. And were it not for great weariness I would spell some of these, fer thee.

Perchance, CO did you note the speciation of the Rallidae, that is? Easy that. It be a juvenile Virginia rail and it's blackness did indeed startle the CO, at first.

Is the rail a protend, CO? Easy that. Maybe, maybe not.

Ray's Thought for the Day

The Bushnoid, allegedly, said we, that is some of us, need to conserve gas, and the Bushnoid recommended car pooling until we get all the refineries up and running, again. This is inspirational stuff. And it's working! The Lincoln Navigators in these parts are all zooming around plumb full of extra realtors.

Not being very happy with this thought after re-reading the spelling a time er two, I, Ray feel the need to elaborate. What if a prospective property buyer could get 3-4 realtors in the same Lincoln Navigator, realtors representing different agencies, if there are that many different actual agencies, 3-4. What might happen? Would the realtors compete to sell the buyer a property, do you think? If I was the buyer in the Lincoln Navigator with the extra realtors, I wouldn't want to stop for lunch.

Rayetta, does this sound like a good idea, too ye?

Hmmmm. Yepper, it sounds interesting. The realtors would save lotsa gas and the buyer would get lotsa attention and possibly receive lotsa inside information from the realtors. Plus it would be very competitive and therefore really good for the free enterprise system. I bet something like this could become a TV show. Each week 4 realtors try to sell a property to the guest star buyer. And there could be lotsa jokes about not taking lunch and lots of ethnic and gender humor could be written into the script, maybe.

All righty then. Not such a bad thought after all. Thanks sis.

The Adventures of Blodeuwedd cont.

All good things must come to an end, maybe, and Blodeuwedd, lying abed
of an early morn, began flipping through Her personal Rolodex and came
upon therein the recollection of Lleu Llaw Guffes, the Lion of the
Steady Hand, er Paw, er Long Arm and also Her husband and despite Her
determination to keep mentally on the task of switching Lleu out, She had
not followed upon Her switching out notion in a systematic and detailed
way or followed the scientific method. Rather, She had let nature take
its course. But now, the moment arrived for some serious advanced
planning and She hypothesized that the talented Badgemagus might be of some
assistance in this planning for the switching of Lleu out, She
reckoned.

"Badgemagus, dear one, I, Blodeuwedd have, for four reasons ticked off
on four of my fingers on at least one prior occasion, but perhaps on
as many as four occasions, determined upon a course of action concerning
Lleu, and that course of action be to switch him out! But here is
somewhat I have recalled of Lleu and that is, he may only be switched out
in such and so forth a complicated fashion that I know not the full
specifications, thereof."

In those days of his youth Badgemagus was a scrapper and mighty strong
and spry he be from daily wrassling with the swine and the rigours of
those times generally, and so Badgemagus spake,

"I'll kick that mofus sorry ass, fer sure."

"No, no, no, Badgemagus, we don't want to go there, unto. Let me first
dispute with Lleu on the manner he may be switched out, expeditiously,
and this manner of the switching out, once detected, will I communicate surreptitiously, to thee."

"Uh, all righty then."

"All righty then!"

When the twain at last arose from abed, a swell breakfast of oatmeal
with apricot jam and raisins and low fat milk and plenty of coffee and
cinnamon buns and white cheddar and apples and pears was set forth and
right heartily did the twain of them, both Blodeuwedd and Badgemagus,
partake there of. All this provender was delicious and the leftovers were
offered up as treats fer the swine and the swine hounds

Upon a time later that day, nigh unto high noon and very hot,Blodeuwedd and Badgemagus were taking their ease upon the front porch when lo a great
hollering was heard without the gate. "Gatekeeper, what is that
great hollering without the gate?", Blodeuwedd inquired of the Gatekeeper. "Lo
and behold, my Lady, 'tis the Royal Herald and the subtopic he hollereth upon
is The Lion of the Steady Hand, approacheth, anon!"

"Yikes! Badgemagus, please make yerself scarce for the nonce, but keep
yerself handy for I shall call on thee anon, once I detect it, the
manner to switcheth Lleu off." Too this stratagem Badgemagus agreed and
he, Badgmagus together with his swine and swine hounds set off to
traverse concentric circles or perhaps an ellipse er two, about the castle
Dinoding, but not before performing some necessary ablutions. These
ablutions occupied time, plus the swine and swine hounds had to be
de-ensconced and this took time and lo the time came about that as Badgemagus
and Company were egressing the gate, Lleu and Retinue were ingressing the
gate, another example of two incidents coming together in space and
time, coincidentally.

And Blodeuwedd predicted to the handy, hired help loafing about,
"Behold the Hand that knocketh me up approacheth, please prepare apace
whatever thou dost for the Hand, when he cometh knocking!" And the hands
that ever are the hired help, did just that.

Meantime round and round the gate a great clamour and alarum had
sundered the peace and prosperity of those parts and the great clamour and
alarum was accompanied by the hollering of men and the screaming of women
and all manner of domestic animal noises of every frequency and tone
and a generalized panic attack was broke out, fer sure. For Lleu would
not give way the gate and neither would the swine for they had been pent
up and now at this opportunity, made a run, fer it.

Lleu waxed much wroth at the discomfiture of his retinue on account of
the stampeding swine and the swine hounds mixed among his retinue of
plunging and bucking horses and ponies, and full-wrothful Lleu assayed
with his wand to likewise discomfit the swine into their component hams.
But Badgemagus also waxed wroth and assayed a transmigration to the
greatest of all swine of those or any other parts, "Twrch Trwyth, the Greatest Boar of Britain."

In these kinds of panic attack situations, with much of hurt feelings
and actual hurts and even casualties imminent, a Goddess on the scene,
if She so opts, can diffuse the panic, quite easily. And Blodeuwedd was
simply not going to put up with a huge mess before Her very front porch
and within Her very gate. So She let out a mighty keening whistle that
assailed the ears with such pitch and volume that none there or
anywhere in those parts did naught but stop what they were doing and cover
their ears. Then Blodeuwedd repeated the mighty whistle twice more and
all who heard those whistles were laid low a-quivering, snorting and
snuffling. And those three whistles were accounted as the three greatest
whistles ever heard in those or any other parts.

Once Blodeuwedd had all the Cymry and domesticated animals prone and
a-quiverin', snorting and snuffling, She predicted, "If any of you lot
can't behave yerself, in an orderly egress and ingress style and absent
all the racket, We shall certainly see what shall become of thee, then."

Such majesty was revealed in Blodeuwedd and overall how pissed off She
was that as the Cymry and domesticated animals gradually sorted
themselves out, they began, just as Blodeuwedd had predicted, an egress and
ingress through the gate of such fine meekness and solicitude for the
feelings of others that this particular egress ingress event is known as
one of the three greatest egress ingress events of all time.

That night at sup, fer meat, Lleu and Blodeuwedd dined on French fried
taters, hamburgers and baked beans with leftover chocolate pie fer
desert and a Dolmen er two. For discourse, Lleu recounted much of his
adventures at tournament and provided extensive detail on the ribbons he had
acquired which included a first, two seconds and a third. The first was fer wheel barrow racin'. Finally after a couple of hours of steady listenin', Blodeuwedd chanced to remark, "Lleu, it would b such a shame if such a champion as yerself should cometh to hurt, or be hurt to the death, somewhat. Perchance, how could such an untimely chance, chanceth?" But Lleu ignored Her and continued on his ribbon receivin' notorieties as if he had not heard Blodeuwedd. However, Blodeuwedd is, if She is anything, determined, and after much chance querying and much, much more of the ribbon receivin' notorieties interspsersed, She gathered the following from Lleu's oral meanderings:

1) spear
2) year to make spear
3) bath tub on river bank
4) thatch shed over tub
5) foot on billy goat
6) foot on edge of tub
7) smite with spear

Got it! Blodeuwedd ticked these items off on seven of her fingers, several times to make sure She had 'em all and then filed the seven together on a page of her Rolodex marked important, urgent and color coded red and yellow.

Then the twain of them, Blodeuwedd and Lleu, retired to their own thoughts and interests separately for the balance of that night.

to be continued

by, Nancy the Goddess of Practical Jokes

The Sustainable Lifestyle of the Crumby Ovate

Here we all are in beautiful Austink, lined up in the left lane, or attempting to line up in the left lane, to get on Mopac headed northwards from the Hwy 290/71 intersection which is behind most of us, a little ways. The CO has plenty of time for picture takin', holdin' the digital out the window while D-E-V-O foresees She Comes from above with a Ton of Love on the stereo CD player. 'Cause the cars and trucks aint, a-movin'.

Why would anyone, but the perpetually panicked, want this lifestyle? Is there any heat bein' produced here? Is this shit sustainable? Where does this highway lead too?

For the CO the highway leads to his job about 9 miles and 15 mph ahead where he works sparingly or not at all some of the time. He could do that job at home and so could everyone else lined up here and that's precisely what we all should do, work at home.

Or on an alternative note:

Please, all you republicans, please tell me of yer presumptive retirement localities so I can go there too. Please, don't leave me here, please, please! Please, I want to go with you and get some clean air and clear skies and quiet, please! Please! Please! Help me! I won't say any more bad things about you, please!

P.S. That grass on the other side of the guard rail is King Ranch bluestem (Bothriochloa ischaemum)and it, the KR, is in the process of taking over the unpaved portions of these parts, ubiquitously.

Ray's Thought for the Day

Uh, Nancy, the Goddess of Practical Jokes informs me, Ray that Blodeuwedd and Badgemagus had chocolate pie for desert at supper last night.

Jangly is the adverb in these parts. Yesterday the Demon Heat wrought 107.

The Crumby Ovate foresees "Follow the money trail!", and reminds, the reason, under NEPA, that re-evaluations happen on big projects, is because the contractor wants more money to do something different than what was proposed in the first place. Then the contractor and it's surrogates whine about having to do paper work (red tape) to account for their gluttonous ways. Under supplemental spending, it's way harder to follow the money trail, and the republicans are supplementally looting the national treasury.

The Adventures of Blodeuwedd cont.

Now it so happens that in this world, coincidences seem to happen, often, in the sense that an incident is liable to occur at or near a time similar to the occurrence of yet another incident. So it should not surprise that the Lion of the Steady Hand bade farewell to Blodeuwedd one fine day, declaring thus, “The Lion of the Steady Hand is off to tournament, but will return anon.”

“Where are you going Lleu?”

“It is a fer piece.”

“Yes, I’m sure it is a indeed a fer piece, but where are you going?”

“Where the tournament is, is where I be going, and great honor and achievement will accrue to me, there at!”

“Um, hmh, but let me guess, is the tournament in Dyfed? “

“It is a fer piece and perhaps beyond the bounds of Dyfed!”

From long experience Blodeuwedd foresaw that Lleu didn’t actually know his destination, only that the destination included a tournament so She predicted, “Have fun Lleu and win some ribbons and be sure to send the Royal Herald in advance when you return this way so I will know you are returning, anon.”

To this terminus of the parting Lleu agreed, and set forth then, together with his retinue, for the Castle Math and to the companionship of his er, Uncle Gwydion, who actually knew the location of the tournament. And Blodeuwedd , discerning the departure of Lleu and the retinue, considered, “What incident may very nearly co-occur with this incident?”

Her anticipation of a coincident was not overlong in arriving in the format of a certain swineherd then resident in those parts, and the swineherd was called Badgemagus, and many were the swine that Badgemagus herded, and to aid in the herding of the swine, Badgemagus kept swine hounds, or as the Saxons would spell, schweinhunds, and these were hyper-active, clever, medium sized, short-haired dogs, colored white with red ears. And often it was said in those parts in those days that no swine troubled the countryside unless Badgemagus and his dogs knew of it.

“What is that great clamour We discern beyond the gate, Gatekeeper?”, cried Blodeuwedd.

“Lo and behold, there be a swineherd without My Lady and the great clamour is the swineherd hollering and the swines oinking and the swine hounds yelping. Shall I admit this noisy and noisome crew or no?”

“By all means, they may be let in one and all.”

Then Blodeuwedd predicted to the hired help that were handy at Her beck and call, “Please see to this swineherd and his charges in such fashion as is customary to their comfort and ease, and once you be content with the scent of this particular swineherd, fetcheth him along, to Me.” So that’s what the hired help, did do.

Badgemagus was much pleased with the spare bedroom he was afforded with an ablution area contained therein and he also delighted in the swine parlors stuffed with corn and day old bread and doughnuts and the kennels stuffed with grubbers, treats and toys in which all his charges were ensconced. Further, invited to the company of Lady Blodeuwedd, Badgemagus determined to impress Her with the grandest spell of dog and swine circusing ever seen in those parts. And that’s just what Badgemagus, did do.

For when Badgemagus was admitted to the presence of the Lady, he was finely accoutered and neutrally scented and with Badgemagus were several of his charges that had learned tricks of acrobatics and tumbling and were also finely accoutered and neutrally scented and both the swines and the dogs were accomplished at galloping full out within concentric circles, riding upon the backs of one another, leaping on high through hoops of fire, leaping unto Badgemagus’ arms and upon his back, and leap-frogging about in general, and withall walking on hind legs, and climbing ladders. Badgemagus and the swines and the dogs would do this also; a swine or perhaps a dog would climb a ladder to the tip-top, then leap therefrom, plummeting from a great height only to vanish in a poof of mist and reappear in the lap of Blodeuwedd, anon.

Needless to say, and as anyone would expect, these antics and devotions of Badgemagus and Company made a very favorable impression on Blodeuwedd. So much so that Blodeuwedd, in turn, treated Badgemagus and Company to Her Most Famous Owl Circus, that features synchronized owls on the wing, plucking anything from anywhere and everywhere and sometimes these particular owls wear blindfolds for these acrobatics and plucking forths.

The circuses complete, and after the twain of them, both Blodeuwedd and Badgemagus went to their ablutions and changed their underwears somewhat of necessity from laughing so hard at the capers of the swines, swine hounds and owls, the both of them also went to meat. The meat that night was fried chicken, yellow squash sauteed with tomatoes, onions and peppers, black-eyed peas with turnip greens and a dash of vinegar, grits with gravy and biscuits. There was also plenty of iced tea, coffee and bourbon. And all of the meat was, delicious!

As incidents sometimes turn out, both Blodeuwedd and Badgemagus had somewhat to talk over at meat and at drink and one thing led to another with all this talkin’ and pretty soon Badgemagus spent the night, but not in the spare bedroom, and after that for several nights more also, not in the spare.

to be continued

by, Nancy the Goddess of Practical Jokes

Ray's Thought for the Day

Perhaps many turns of the wheel from now, some proto human will find this record, here spelled out, read of it, and wonder, "How did Ray endure the surpassing great heat of those days?" Yesterday was 108.

A plant came up in the Streptanthus bed, but it was nutgrass (Cyperus rotundus), a common introduced garden weed of these parts.

The Adventures of Blodeuwedd cont.

The sudden arrival of Lleu Llaw Guffes and retinue took Blodeuwedd by surprise, though you might think She should have been expecting him to show up eventually, and that She should have been making preparations for his arrival, or that She would have at the very least thought about the probability, somewhat. But Blodeuwedd had been busy and having lotsa fun so She hadn’t given Lleu a single thought until She had the thought, upon espying Lleu in the courtyard, “Here is my husband, I do know him and he is veritably appeared again, much like unto a bad penny.” Then Blodeuwedd turned to a gaggle of the hired help that were lolly-gagging at hand and predicted, “Could you please tidy up the castle a bit and make ready or whatever one does for a retinue arrived in these circumstances?” And this the hired help did do.

In addition to the Lion of the Steady Hand, the retinue that arrived was some significant others, and the Royal Footholder, the Royal Falconer, the Royal Huntmaster, the Royal Fishmaster, the Royal Taster, the Royal Herald, who had already arrived previously and hung around, and the twain Royal Wheel Barrow Men. These last two, husky lads, had the jobs of assisting Lleu, to mount and dismount the horse, and also transport Lleu, reclining in the Royal Wheel Barrow, to and from the horse. ( Lleu, heeding the advice of both Math ap Mathonwy and Gwydion ap Don had forsaken the pony and upgraded to a horse). By the way, you may recall that according to custom when the king is not a-horse, the king is supposed to have his feet in the lap of a virgin. But you have to remember that there are certain events, even in the life of a king, that could make keeping yer feet in the lap of a virgin inconvenient for king and/or virgin. So mainly, Math and Lleu only kept their feet in the laps of virgins on public occasions. And on semi-public occasions, as in this instance, it was OK for the virgin to sidle along beside the wheel barrow with one hand resting lightly somewhere on the person of the king, whatever part she could reach, and so avoid stooping overmuch while she was sidling along.

Beginning with the sudden and unanticipated arrival of Lleu Llaw Guffes at the Castle Dinoding, Blodeuwedd’s habits and routines were upset, necessarily, to treat with Lleu and his retinue. Soon a new routine was established (Blodeuwedd is known above all else for Her adaptability), but Blodeuwedd was not pleased, entirely, by this new routine for it, the new routine, included facets that were not pleasing to Blodeuwedd and these She ticked off one by one on Her fingers, and as She ticked them of, She spelled them aloud:

1) Lleu abed, be perfunctory and his nose runneth

2) Lleu’s Royal Footholder be a chubby chatterbox, and no virgin

3) Lleu liketh sports, and worse, talketh about sports he hath accomplished, and what sports he would accomplish, anon, exclusively

4) Lleu abuseth or neglecteth the little wonders and the Cymry

So.............., Blodeuwedd, reflecting on 1-4, hit upon the notion, “I will switcheth Lleu out! But how particularly, will he be switchethed out? That be the nonce of all my notions.”

to be continued

by Nancy, the Goddess of Practical Jokes

Ray's Thought for the Day (Ants in Yer Pants)

Here' a tip fer a displacement behavior activity fer those times when you don't know what to do, but ye know ye should do something:

Sing a little song, do a little dance
Move too slow ye get ants in yer pants
Ants in yer pants, ants in yer pants
Move too slow ye get ants in yer pants.

Repeat refrain until weariness sets in.

If ye do this activity, accompanied by the shuffle ball change step or variations therof, the need to do anything else, is obviated. Furthermore, the expectations of those about ye, will lower.

Ray's Thought for the Day

The parking lot south of the Burger Center (football stadium), lookin' west. Does this look hot?

The hurricane abideth elsewhere, no rain has fallen on the Cow Barn, and yesterday’s high temp. was 101, tying a record high for that date, set in 2000 A.D. and it's going to be that hot again today, anon. So..........What else is new?

One of the ways to predict rain at RGVECB is to enumerate the number of plastic bags the newspaper (er, what passes for a newspaper in these parts) comes in. She works, the predictin’, this away. No bags = no rain. One bag = no rain. Two bags = rain. Note: Not foolproof, but helpful.

Then there’s the annoying debate over what causes global warming which annoys me, Ray. The debate is mostly annoying to me, Ray because of the contributions to the debate by the ignorant and vulgar and the ignorant and vulgar media coverage of same. How do I, Ray find out about the ignorant and vulgar contributions to the debate in the first place? Easy that. Red hollers out “Ray, you got to see this ignoramus on the TV!”

Annoyance, like an itch, gets a response, eventually, so here’s Ray’s scratch, er spell, on the annoying subtopic of:

Global Warming

The globe waxes hotter and colder periodically. We know that. It’s like a fact. Hmmmm. Actually, no simile is involved here, so let me restate. The globe waxes hotter and colder periodically and that’s a fact. Many hypotheses have been advanced as to the cause of the waxing, hotter and colder. Since the globe is nowadays waxing hotter, also a fact, hypotheses have been advanced to explain why it’s getting so dern hot, lately. The usual macro hypotheses have been advanced and all these macro hypotheses are so macro that we humans and proto humans have no likely possibility of having caused them directly in the usually considered frameworks of physical and chemical laws and theorems. I am referring here to magnetic pole switches, changes in solar output, vulcanism and the like. And I suppose that the scientists are hard at work measuring these and similar subtopics if they haven’t had their funding cut.

But what on the globe over the last, can you say 400 hundred turns of the wheel?, has mightily altered the “appearance” of the globe? Easy that. Consider lights. Four hundred turns ago there weren’t none. Now the earth shines with ‘em. A great many of these lights are hot, are they not? Easy that. Yes, they are hot and there were none of, em, nary a one, 400 yar ago. Consider engines. Same thing, there are millions of ‘em now, some immobile but mostly mobile and zoomin’ about, and they run hot, but hardly any 400 yar ago. Consider fuel, both fossil and currently alive. All of it burns hot and we’re burning it up apace, more and faster burnin’ of it every day. Consider pavement. Same thing, there’s bunches more of it these days and more a comin’ and pavement gets hot and stays hot fer a spell longer than most anything else that’s commonly around that the pavement replaced.

Given all this heat we’re producin’ and certain of our activities that are apparently keepin’ the heat from dissipatin’ into space as fast as it might otherwise dissipate, ‘tis reasonable to assume we’re makin’ the globe hotter. Are we the main cause of all the heat? Easy that. Course not. But we are the only source of heat we have any potential control over and we’re makin’ the globe hotter.

I, Ray foresee more energy, trapped in the globe as heat, atoms and molecules vibrate faster, excited nerve endings fray, generalized panic attacks break out, globally. Actually, I, Ray didn’t foresee this but the Crumby Ovate and Red have both seen it, and I, Ray in my capacity of Chief Chronicler of RGVECB have now shared their foresight as a result of that chroniclin’ capacity.

And, this infernal heat is drivin’ me crazy!

Borrowin’ now from the Bards of Pink Floyd, (Druid blood runs deep in the Bards of the British Isles), “Did they get ye to trade, yer heroes fer ghosts, hot ashes fer dreams, hot air fer a cool breeze?”

Why is it that among all the humans of the globe, practically, only the republicans of these Yorenited States believe, apparently, that we humans are not making the globe hotter? Our Yorenited States republicans are, by their own admission, the most responsible humans in these parts, or anywhere else. In fact, a veritable cornerstone of republicanism is, “People should be responsible for their own actions, oink, oink, oink and oink.” Well, all righty then, let’s assume for the nonce, that we humans are not making it hotter, but it is getting hotter anyway, but it’s not our fault. Or expressed in republicanese :

Oink, it’s not getting hotter. Oink, it’s getting hotter, but it’s not our fault. Oink, nothing bad that happens as a result of the globe getting hotter is anticipated, by us. Oink, if something bad does happen, we can not be blamed because of the prior three oinks. Which enumerates to four oinks, which as you know by now is the number of the Crumby Ovate.

However, I, Ray just had an additional thought/question. “Is the amount of biotic life on the globe constant or variable?”

The Adventures of Blodeuwedd cont.

"I suspect that lion cap will not be seen again in these parts", remarked Blodeuwedd as She gathered the reins and the chariot bounced to a halt. "Now, I must check up on darling Lleu the Loquacious and see if I can not send him back where he came from, while I, Blodeuwedd proceed in the opposite direction."

"Oh goodness gracious Llew, thou hast took a bad spill and methinks thou hast somewhat awrong with thy legs, maybe."

"Owwwwwww."

"Now hold still. Dost hurt when I pull on this leg thusly?"

"OWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW!"

"Let Me check this one also, similarly?"

"Nuh, nuh, OWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW!"

"As you can easily see and hear, King Lleu, is in no fit condition for a charioteer or to continue afoot", Blodeuwedd explained to the now assembled chariot wedding party that had reined up round and about the stricken Lleu. "I suggest that we strap King Lleu upon a horse or perhaps a pony, and he be escorted rearward unto the Castle Math, where no doubt, the Druidry of those parts can somewhat amend these afflictions so lately inflicted upon my unwary husband by that Owl. I, Blodeuwedd on the other hand, will proceed apace, to set Our kingdom aright." And so Queenly was the foretelling of Blodeuwedd that the assembled company did as they were bade and departed northward with the unlucky Lleu strapped on a pony, but Blodeuwedd headed south.

Blodeuwedd set out upon the road again to Castle Dinoding, happily blessing all the little wonders and Cymry She met along the way for She was in a good humor at the departure of the annoying Lleu. All the little wonders and Cymry that met Her that day, met Her good side, and profited each in its own way, thereby. And this mood continued upon Blodeuwedd for the Castle Dinoding upon Her arrival, proved a pleasant and pretty castle set in nice location, and after some spiffing up, proved downright Oklahomey. And Blodeuwedd went out among the little wonders and Cymry and blessed all these after their own fashion and had them all up to the castle fer a party and a Dolmen er two, and everyone was safe and happy all this time.

Many moons passed in this fashion but one day in the brightness of the sun (and very hot) a herald arrived, sent by Lleu, heralding "Lleu Llaw Guffes, the Lion of the Steady Hand approacheth to the Castle Dinoding, anon."

"My goodness gracious sakes alive, who or what is that?" exclaimed a forgetful Blodeuwedd.

_____

to be continued

by Nancy, the Goddess of Practical Jokes

Ray's Thought for the Day

Yesterday, I Ray did some traveling around and workin', outside, and I, Ray can assure everyone that it was mighty hot outside, 103 degrees hot, and surreal too. In fact, it was surreal, I could barely stand it. There were lotsa environmental refugees on and along Hwy 71 headed west and every convenience store had a great crowd assembled and many vehicles were parked on the back slopes and many more were driving along on the road shoulders. It took me Ray, 3+ hours to ride 70 miles in a air-conditioned truck going west, to get home. It would have taken lots longer, to get home to the Cow Barn, but there's shortcuts, the refugees don't know about.

Perhaps we have been framing the global warming question incorrectly from the get go.

Perhaps we should be debating,

"Would the world be a cooler place without__________?"

The Adventures of Blodeuwedd cont.

"So, that's the way of it. I, the WG, in my Arianrhod guise, loosed the Steady Paw upon the world and now he (it) has been nurtured by Math and Gwydion into a, no doubt, strange young man (it). Well, I guess I will go through with this since marrying kings is one of my main jobs."

The marriage was quite the most splendid ever seen in those parts and everyone said Blodeuwedd was quite the most beautiful bride ever seen in those parts, albeit a little strange, maybe, and Lleu did OK at the ceremony remembering to say "I do." immediately after he forgot to say I do the first time and said, "Do I, anon?", instead. Math was so pleased with all that had passed that he bestowed upon Lleu Llaw Guffes one of his own nice cantrefs to rule over. (A cantref is sort of like a county or a parrish, but littler). So Lleu was scheduled to be king of one small, but nice, county, er cantref, anon.

The actual marriage, however, began to head south, figuratively and literally, when the chariot caravan left for Dinoding which was the official name of Lleu's new cantref. For Blodeuwedd dutifully attempted conversation with Lleu as they bounced along, to discover his interests and feelings, so that She might share in these interests and feelings, with him. Therefore, Blodeuwedd spake to Lleu thusly,

"Tell me Lleu, what be the trees of this great wood as we pass through?"

"As we pass through, I shall tell thee of these trees, anon."

"Lleu, time hath passed apace and yet ye tell me not of the trees!"

"No, indeed I have not, for these same trees have passed me by also."

"Then what of the beasts, tell me of the beasts in these parts."

"As we pass through, I shall tell thee of the beasts, anon."

"Lleu, time hath passed apace and yet ye tell me not of the beasts!"

"No, indeed I have not, for these same beasts have passed me by also."

Then what of the Cymry, tell me of the Cymry in these parts."

"As we pass through, I shall tell thee of the Cymry, anon."

"Lleu, time hath passed apace and yet ye tell me not of the Cymry!"

"No, indeed I have not, for these same Cymry have passed me by also."

"Hmmmmmmm. All righty then. We shall soon see what else passes thee by, anon," foretold Blodeuwedd, but Lleu wasn't paying attention because he was having lotsa fun, driving the chariot.

Then, as the twain of them, Blodeuwedd and Lleu, were bouncing along, and Blodeuwedd waxing aggravated and more so aggravated with each passing anon and bounce, a Great Horned Owl espied the charioteer Lleu, and made straight for Lleu's cap which was figured in the likeness of a lion, which the Great Horned Owl took to be a tiny kitten. (And this is where the expression "and then the Great Horned Owl espied the tiny kitten", that is well known even in these parts and those parts to this very day, came from). Yea verily, the Great Horned Owl stooped on Lleu and the unwary charioteer, Lleu, was taken unawares and discomfitted by the Great Horned Owl stooping on his cap, so that he made a great leap from the chariot and landed wrong and in such a fashion that his hip bones were pulled plumb loose from their sockets and Lleu, much like like his father er, uncle er, brother er, Math, would from that day forth require, like Math, a Royal Footholder and a horse or pony to go about on.

_____

to be continued

by Nancy the Goddess of Practical Jokes

Ray's Thought for the Day

Cuchulian told 'em "Better not cross that creek!" But he did anyway.

Wetlands are better than wet underwear.

Or in Druidese,

Which would you like, a nice wetland or wet underwear?

Easy that, we would like a nice wetland, but we, like you, usually wind up with wet underwear, anyway.

All that aside, you can read a very good history of “Wetland Protection Legislation” at http://water.USGS.gov/WSP2425/legislation.html

Some of the actual facts are left off of that site though. The bottom line is that the only limit on development in wetlands these days is cost versus profit (usually the public’s cost and private or corporate profit). Legislation designed to identify and protect wetlands and enforcement of the relevant laws has been very effectively negated by:

1) reversion to the 1987 delineation manual in 1991
2) under-funding and misdirected funding for wetland science
3) down- sizing and out-sourcing at the responsible federal and state agencies
4) substitution of politically motivated opinion for science (ex. The National List of Plant Species that Occur in Wetlands)
5) appointment of the regulated and their relatives and golf buddies to oversight positions in the regulatory agencies
6) widespread lying and gluttony

Killing Endangered Species Jokes (A Theoretical Situation)

When I am going along somewhere with a company and someone asks "Are there any birds (meaning endangered birds) here?", And I give a positive response, because it is my job to tell the truth, and then someone of the company does a poor immitation of a shotgun blast and some of the company, including the shotgun blast noise immitator, have a good laugh, I get aggravated. Note. I don't get aggravated, maybe.

Ray's Thought for the Day

Nancy, the Goddess of Practical Jokes has, She spells, played one on Herself, and is comin' up with an explanation, fer it, anon. This is apparently in relation to "The Adventures of Blodeuwedd cont.", and is related to Math hikin' and dancin' jigs. Troubling!

Temperatures, accordin' to Red, have been nosin' above the century mark in these parts for the last several days, and will today, so there's lotsa energy, thither and yon. Better watch out!

And I, Ray have been askin' myself, could someone like Lleu Llaw Guffes, ever be selected as king, or even Prezidink of These Yorenited States. Lleu seems, well, stupid.

The CO is more aggravated than usual, and it's an aggravation long brewing. Better watch out for that too!

Never forgive, never forget, always do payback.

And on page B6 of what passes fer a newspaper in these parts there is spelled the subtopic: Report: Army Corps slacking on wetlands. Eric Schaeffer buried in the subtopic is our NEPA hero for today.

Who in the world might want the Army Corps to slack on wetlands?

Roaring Announcement

The Force of Nature has returned,
Ungnawed by bears,
And full of the WG.

The Adventures of Blodeuwedd cont.

A Note from the Author - Nancy the Goddess of Practical Jokes

Scholars of the old stories have noticed that I, Nancy have spelled about Math ap Mathonwy, uncharacteristically, in the two prior iterations of this subtopic. And I will admit that I left out something rather important. In all those places where Math was hikin', and he did a good bit of hikin', he should have been ridin' a pony, or maybe a horse, or some sort of equine or bovine beast of conveyance. The reason for this is Math is crippled, ritually crippled in fact, and I, Nancy in my zeal to relate the adventures of Blodeuwedd, fergot that Math was crippled in the legs. Also it is unlikely that Math would have danced a jig. But all that is bygone and beyond redemption for the nonce.

Or, instead of spelling that I, Nancy fergot and bearing that shame, I might say that Math was cured by Jesus, temporarily for those two prior iterations of The Adventures of Blodeuwedd, just so Math could hike and jig. But given Math's heathen proclivities, why would Jesus do that? I'd have to change the story all round like plenty of others before me have, in fact, changed the story around. But I won't do that. I'll leave it just as it is, and if anyone wishes they can imagine Math bouncing along on top of a pony, with Gwydion jogging along beside, trying to keep up, and neither of the twain Druids, trudgin'.
_____

And now, that out of the way The Adventures of Blodeuwedd cont.

The WG sitting at post meat in Her Blodeuwedd guise, sipping at a glass of chilled champagne mead, and smiling wickely at the bumptious host of Cymry bumping about Her, thought, "All that food was certainly delicious, but what's this about me, Blodeuwedd marrying that Lion of the Steady Paw. I would not think to marry a Steady Paw ever, and why should anyone surmise that I would?"
_____

Another note of clarification from Nancy.

Now this is the way it is with the WG and I tried to get this important information included in the Druid Liturgy, but I fergot that too. It's easy for us Goddesses to ferget stuff because we have so many responsibilites, obviously. But I will spell this important information now and we shall all be better off, fer it.

The way it is with the WG, thinkin' wise, is, She is the Greatest of All Pivoters. Why is that Nancy, you ask? Easy that. Her thought is of such great outreach, that She often turns to another subtopic before the thought She sent out in the first place has time to get back to Her, and when the thought She sent out in the first place does get back to Her, She has forgotten all about it. So it becomes a temporarily lost thought. But the WG in Her capacity as the All-Knowing can summon any lost thought forth if She requires it via her Rolodex of Memories.

_____

cont.

And this is just what the WG in Her Blodeuwedd guise was doin' at Her betrothal supper, requiring a thought from Her Rolodex Memory. And what She was requiring a thought on was "Why would anyone surmise that I would marry a Steady Paw?"

Going through Her memory Rolodex She came to the thought. "Hmmmmm, a summons to Math’s virginity test ceremony, Math ap Mathonwy, King of These Parts, here and now doth summon up, His cousin, er niece, er whatever she is, Arianrhod, to the Castle of Math for the determination of whether or not she qualifies to be the Royal Footholder. All righty then. I shall have a nice surprise for Math and soon see what follows from that, surprise. This will be lotsa fun. Let’s see, whatever shall I wear, and also, I must see about looking my very palest for the occasion.” And the WG, in the guise of Blodeuwedd, prospective bride, to Math’s er nephew, or whatever Lleu Llaw Guffes was in kin relation to Math, realized She had found the lost thought She had been searching for.

The event the WG in the guise of Blodeuwedd is recalling above had occurred a good while, but not a great while previously, in the neighborhood of 18 growing seasons past, in fact, so you can see why, the WG, being busy, and having many thoughts covering great distances could have forgotten that one, temporarily. That event She now remembered and the surprise for Math contained therein, that Arianrhod contrived for Math.

Math ap Mathonwy has this knack, to know a virgin when he sees one. However, for the knack to work properly, every time, Math resorts to a wand test. And the test is, Math holds his wand six inches off the ground and parallel to the ground, and the young lady of that particular test iteration is required to step over the wand, and when she thus steps over it, the wand, Math knows. (Oh yes, King Math knows). On this particular occasion, Math was fixing to employ this knack to fill the vacant position of Royal Footholder which position was open. A new Royal Footholdler was required because Gwydion and Gwydion’s little brother, had together, despoiled the prior Royal Footholder of her virginity while Math was off horse or ponyback riding. And Math had this other peculiarity, that when he wasn’t off horse or ponyback riding, his feet had to be propped in the lap of a virgin which further elucidates his need for a new Royal Footholder.

Understandably, Arianrhod was not exactly hankering to fill the position of Royal Footholder, a tiresome job and smelly. So the little surprise Arianrhod devised was:

As Arianrhod assayed to traverse the wand, somewhat of a yelp issued from her and lo a baby nosed forth hollerin’ from under the upraised folds of her gown and lo yet another baby then issued forth, but this second one, a tiny baby, began to sprint about the hall so that it was difficult to catch.

And the second tiny baby that issued forth on that particular occasion, eventually turned out to be Lleu Llaw Guffes. Given this unusual, one might even say miraculous birthing event, we can forgive Math his difficulty in recalling a specific kin relationship with Lleu, a difficulty not peculiar to Math alone, but quite difficult for all the men of those times, figuring out quite who the father is. Perhaps, on occasion this difficulty remains as a problem, even for the men of these chancy times.

By the way, so far as any story tells, no one put forward the notion of virgin birth respecting Arianrhod. No one, Math or anyone else, thought of that possibility even once. And Arianrhod, when asked by one of Her girlfriends how She acquired those babies, replied, "snips and snails and puppy dog tails, maybe."

_____

to be continued.........

by Nancy, the Goddess of Practical Jokes

Ray's Thought for the Day

Uh, Nancy the Goddess of Practical Jokes has forwarded another pronunciation guide over, to me. This one spells for Lleu LLaw Guffes - Hlay hlow guvfez. The hls are aspirated, the ay is as in "aye matey", the ow is as in "ow!", and the ff is somewhere betwen a v and ffs.

Also, Lleu Llaw Guffes is sometimes translated as Lion of the Long Arm. Either way, I am up against the wall on this one, right with Blodeuwedd, cause lions don't have arms any more than they have hands.

And from Red - Since the rain event of weekend before last, afternoon temperatures have run to the upper 90's everyday, so it's been plenty hot and dry in these parts, fer this seasonality, comparitively speakin'. And the red Rhodophilia flowers have wilted away.

And from me, Ray, if I both know you and like you, have a safe and happy day.

There's No Chicken Like Old Chicken Like No Chicken I Know

Avian Influenza (Bird Flu)

Ted was pivotin' this morning more than usual due to a problem that we won't go into in this venue. (No, no, no, we don't need to go there). But we can share one of the pivots.

As has been mentioned on one or two occasions before in this expansive topic, Ted knows just about everything there is to know about the animal processing business process. And what Ted may not actually know, he has theories on. That being the case here's what Ted shared with the CO this morning.

A while back one of Ted's partial peer group, a chicken rancher, discovered there was a market in Houston for old chickens. Sometimes these old chickens could be unloaded for up to $15/old chicken. Perhaps that's because chickens don't generally get old, and scarcity makes the market.

"Who wants these old chickens?" you ask. Well, apparently, immigrants to these Yorenited States from the Caribbean and other points south of the border and maybe even Africa have a preference for old chickens. (By the way, these old chickens have to be alive and inspectable as such (alive) at the time of any business transactions involving them, the old chickens). According to Ted, this preference for old chickens is rooted in religion. Some people want old stove up chickens that have had a full life and were better off in the past, for the purpose of sacrifice and/or eatin', as opposed to young chickens who have their whole lives ahead of them and have much to look forward to in the sphere of bein' a chicken. Also, Ted theorized that people with old chicken preferences might believe in re-incarnation (transmigration is another possibility) and were desiring of putting the old chickens out of old chicken misery in a humane fashion, because these old chickens may have once been people too, maybe.

So being aware of this cultural phenomena, Ted's chicken rancher peer loaded up a truck with 200 old chickens and headed for Houston expecting to fetch in the neighborhood of $15/old chicken which ciphers into the neighborhood of $3000, as you may know, a tidy sum for old chickens. But when he (the chicken rancher) arrived at the old chicken market and displayed his wares, the potential customers noticed that he had a great many old chickens, in fact, many more old chickens than the market would bear. And they began to dicker and soon the dickered price plummeted lower and lower, much like a flightless bird on its own at a great altitude.

The drop in the prospective price per old chicken aggravated the chicken rancher and he became so aggravated when the proferred offers hit $5 that he loaded up his old chickens and returned with them to his chicken ranch, er, chicken house where he released the unwanted flock back into the general population. A short time later his chickens began to sicken and die and then those chickens got quarantined and were eventually all executed by the authority of the Yorenited States government. The chickens, old and young alike, had got avian influenza, apparently from the ones who had visited the old chicken market.

The Adventures of Blodeuwedd cont.

This is how the WG appeared to Math and Gwydion as they stared, slack-jawed at the young lady sitting on top of the Dolmen. Her face and hair were milk white in color as the light of the moon, and a good bit of her hair stuck out horizontally, her arms were also white, as snow, as were her feet. Her gown was black in the twilight and shone with the light of stars and the moon as if they were caught in it. And they couldn’t see much else about Her because it was getting dark.

Of a sudden, Math Son of Mathonwy remembered his manners, and spoke up, “Young lady what are you doing out here all alone with the night coming on, anon.”

“Oh, just visiting these parts, and lovely it is here too, but I have no place to rest this night and I am weary, could I come along with you?”

“Yepper, you may indeed. I am Math Son of Mathonwy, a mighty King and Druid in these parts and right over yonder is my castle. And this is my cousin Gwydion, also a Druid of some renown, though Gwydion doesn’t have his own castle and stays with me. And who might you be?”

“Blodeuwedd, is my name and I am very pleased to meet such mighty Druids.”

After these required introductions, Blodeuwedd, Math and Gwydion set off for Math's Castle, in the direction of the next hill to the north and as the three so journeyed, they made small talk. And in the small talk vein Blodeuwedd happened to mention to the Druids that, “I, Blodeuwedd had no memory prior to this very day and believed I had, odd as it seems, come to fruition inside a plant specimen bag which now at this very time and after some alterations adorneth and covereth up most, of me." At this turn in the small talk, Math and Gwydion went slack-jawed again, but Gwydion, wise to the material of both the gown and the bag, the fine wool dyed blue with woad, noted that Blodeuwedd's gown could reasonably be of the very same material as his plant specimen bag was, formerly. Then suspicion grew in the mind of Gwydion, and in Math's mind also, that this very fair maiden could be the wicker woman they had labored over for the better part of that day. And as they trudged along their suspicion grew and grew.

Anon, the threesome arrived at Math's Castle, sometimes known in those parts as the Castle of Math, and after Math did some hollering directed at the asleep gate attendant, Blodeuwedd, together with Math and Gwydion last of all, were let inside. Then Math summoned his old mother to show Blodeuwedd where She might go to perform ablutions and also to look upon the guest room they had already prepared, fer Her. "Supper", Math commented, as Blodeuwedd and the Mother of Math (MOM) departed, "will be ready pretty soon, I hope." Then, once Blodeuwedd and the Mom were out of range, both Gwydion and Math har-harred and danced a jig and congratulated themselves on cunning magicin' and profuse wizardry and all that, for both believed that this Blodeuwedd was, as they had intended all along, a fruition of their creation, the wicker woman of oak, broom and meadowsweet, come to be. "Let us now go to our ablutions, and then to supper, maybe, and at supper we may recount this great adventure to the assembled household", foretold Math, and Gwydion agreed to all that, and away the Druidry of those parts went.

Mom had, despite deep misgivings on the prospect of the actual arrival of a flower maid in the household as foretold by her son and her nephew in the a.m., gone ahead on and freshened up a guest bedroom and to that guest bedroom Mom now directed Blodeuwedd, having been assured, by Blodeuwedd that, "I only do of ablutions for entertainment, not of necessity." Mom thought this a rather interesting remark, but let it go for the nonce for they had verily arrived at the guest bedroom immediately adjacent to the ablution performance area and Mom had to show off its features and accouterments (including some very nice spare dresses, shoes and such) to Blodeuwedd. Having determined to both their satisfactions that the features and accouterments of the guest bedroom were nice as pie, Mom departed from Blodeuwedd with, "I'll send someone round to knock you up for supper, dear. Do you like pork chops?"

"Oh, my! How interesting does that sound? Pork chops will do nicely, fer me. Thank you very much and I shall abide being knocked up, eagerly."

“All righty then, dear. See you at supper."

Then Blodeuwedd shut the door to the spare and began to chuckle with a combination of delight in the various spare room accouterments and with something else also, in accord with the lotsa fun She was having. And Mom, wandering off to the kitchen thought, "That's an odd one, too pale er something, and what the heck did she mean about ablutions?"

After a while, sure enough, Blodeuwedd, heard a knock at the door and got up, went to the door, opened the door, and there beheld a sallow, lankish youth of about her own perceptual age standing at alert with somewhat of a booger apparent in his right nostril. "Prithee sir, I am called Blodeuwedd, but before you introduce yerself, to me, or relax, pray turn about and remove that booger from yer right nostril for it gives much offense, to me, perched as it be, therein." And that's just what the sallow, lankish youth did do, turn about and remove the booger. "Ah ha," thought Blodeuwedd, "this one follows orders, what else can he do?" The booger removed and concealed, the sallow, lankish young man introduced himself politely.

"I be Lleu Llaw Guffes, at yer service, and I be here anon as guide to yer supper.

"I'm sorry Lleu, but aren't you already here."

"I am indeed, already here, anon."

"Hmmmmmm. All righty then. Shall we go to supper then, anon?"

"We shall, indeed, anon."

“Okie Dokie to that”, and amidst the linguistic confusion Blodeuwedd and Lleu did depart for the suppering hall and on the way to supper, for small talk, Blodeuwedd ordered, "Sit with me at sup Lleu, and tell me the etymology of yer name, for I know it not".

"Gladly will I do just that, Lady Blodeuwedd, for many have wondered at the etymology of Lleu Llaw Guffes."

Then the twain of them, both Lleu and Blodeuwedd, arrived at the suppering hall and found a supper all laid out before them and all the important people of the household and round about those parts assembled and Math hollered out, "Take yer seat and let's to meat".

This is how they were seated at meat. Math was at the head of the table and on his left side was Blodeuwedd and across from Blodeuwedd was Lleu Llaw Guffes, and then came Gwydion and Gwydion's little brother, and then some more of Math's kin folk, pals and hangers on and their significant others, and at the other end of the table sat Mom and Math's second wife.

The meat that was laid out, besides pork chops, was collard greens sauteed in olive oil with garlic and leeks, sweet potatoes and molasses on the side, cornbread, mash potatoes with red eye gravy and sliced tomatoes and cucumbers. And fer desert there was extra tart lemon meringue pie with coffee. Everything was delicious and there was plenty of Dolmen Stout to wash it down with, and a light champagne mead and iced tea too.

As promised, the supper conversation had Lleu Llaw Guffes telling Blodeuwedd about the etymology of Lleu Llaw Guffes.

"It means lion of the steady hand."

"Huh?"

"It means lion of the steady hand."

"I heard you the first time. But lions don't have hands!" It maketh no sense, to me."

“Lions don’t have hands?”

“No, they don’t. They have paws.”

“Paws?”

“Paws.”

“All righty then. I’m the Lion of the Steady Paw, maybe.”

“Yepper. You probably are!”

But Blodeuwedd while thus discoursin’ with Lleu was also listening to the interesting account of Her miraculous creation as described by Math, Son of Mathonwy with interruptions by Gwydion, Son of Don, to whit:

“Then Gwydion returned with the oak, broom and meadowsweet in his specimen bag”.

“And a great volume and mass of those little wonders were in it, for I Gwydion know about collectin’, none more than me.”

“Then I, Math spelled over the bag, “Awake oh maiden fair, from yer vegetable like condition, and lo a great mist arose and Gwydion here swooned from fear of the mist.”

“You swooned too Math, and first. You conked out before me.”

“No I didn’t. I was only pretendin’ to be asleep. Anyhow, here She sits before us, a flower maid of our own conjurin’, Blodeuwedd, and a most fittin’ bride to be, She be, fer our own cousin er son or er, whatever he is, Lleu Llaw Guffes. Three big coyote yips fer Blodeuwedd and Lleu!!!”

Then all the Cymry present began to whoop and holler in the best imitation of a coyote they could conjure, though not a one of them had ever heard tell of a coyote in those parts.

And Blodeuwedd thought to Herself, “Hmmmmm.”

______

to be continued,

by Nancy, the Goddess of Practical Jokes

Raymone's Thought for the Day, Translated by Ray

The effects of global warming have been apparent at RGVECB for many moons. Better watch out! Reconsider escape routes!

Ray's Thought for the Day

Uh, Nancy, the Goddess of Practical Jokes has asked me to impart the following:

Blodeuwedd is pronounced - Blod aye weth - with the emphasis on the penultimate syllable.

All righty then.
_____

Now I, Ray would like to share with y'all some interesting information on a little wonder that is troublesome in these parts and shouldn't be in these parts and is about the worst invasive winter weed in these parts. This particular invasive winter weed is rescuegrass, or as the learned call it, either Bromus uniloides or Bromus catharticus or maybe something else. In any event, rescuegrass is a bad one for crowding out the native little wonders. Pictured are a couple of 'em seedin' out. As you can see they are tiny, but seedin' out anyway. They also seed out when they are three feet tall. No wonder they are takin' over. They are winter annuals, but hold place like they are perennials by smotherin' the ground with vegetation and seeds. Yikes! We kill'em all at RGVECB.

The Adventures of Blodeuwedd

One day a very great while back, far in excess of a tousand or even two tousand turns of the wheel, the White Goddess (WG) noticed that two of her Druids were messin' around with some of Her little wonders, and great was their fidgetin' and agitation. These two Druids, Math Son of Mathonwy and Gwydion Son of Don, were, as She noticed, attemptin' to magic some of Her little wonders into a maiden fair. Perhaps they were magicin' sugar and spice and everything nice, but perhaps not. In any event, the WG said to Herself, "Hmmm, I shall play along with these Druids because I am curious about what they are up to." And that's just what the WG did, play along with the two Druids.

Meantime Math and Gwydion were workin' and arguin' over which of the little wonders to combine and how to assemble the maiden fair and they were proceedin' by trial and error with much waving of wands, directed at first one combination of little wonders and then another. Occasionally the wicker woman they were assemblin' would give a twitch and Math and Gwydion would get all lathered up thinking they had accomplished their conjurin', but the twitches were just the WG giving and taking away and the wicker woman never quite sprang to full fruition. After many trials and failures Math and Gwydion waxed quarrelsome and each began to blame the other for the slow progress with the wicker woman. But then, in the midst of the bickerin', Math bein' agitated and full of the spirit, had an epiphany, which was, not sugar, spice and everything nice; but oak (Quercus petraea, Fagaceae, broom (Cytisus scoparia), Fabaceae, and meadowsweet (Spiraraea ulmaira) Rosaceae. "These three of the little wonders are what's required", Math declared, and Gwydion went along with Math and Math's epiphany because he was outranked and hadn't had an epiphany of his own.

Also, because he was outranked, Gwydion was dispatched to find these items of little wonders and they were common plants in those days at that time and are still around in those same parts today. So Gwydion soon collected the requisite specimens in two shakes of a lamb's tail, or actually, a little longer, and he took those specimens back to where Math was recoverin' from his, Math's epiphany, and was havin' a Dolmen er two. Gwydion was hot and thirsty, having done lotsa collectin' and desired a Dolmen er two also, but Math didn't want to share so they fussed and waved wands over the remainder of the 12 pack. But lo eventually, Math fell asleep from the rigours of his epiphany in combination with the several Dolmens he had drunk up, plus the wand wavin' he had to accomplish to ward Gwydion off the 12 pack, and when Math dozed off, Gwydion, was at liberty to guzzle up the remaining Dolmen's, which he did do, guzzle them up, and Gwydion went nappy-bye too.

The WG, of course, had been watchin' all these Druidic shenanigans, and also had seen where Gwydion had dropped his specimen bag, which by the way, was a fine wool specimen bag dyed blue with woad (Isatis tinctoria), Apiaceae. So thinking it would be lotsa fun, the WG entered into the specimen bag, gave a wriggle er two and transformed the specimen bag and the specimens inside the specimen bag into the most beautiful human woman ever seen in those parts. Then, off She went, explorin'.

After an undetermined while, Math and Gwydion arose from their naps and once the fog cleared and their surroundings became apparent, to 'em, they began to appreciate that Gwydion's specimen bag was entirely disappeared together with the contents of the specimen bag and they were in despair, believing that some other Druid had enchanted the specimen bag and whisked it away, or they had been robbed of it by the ignorant and vulgar. So, disconsolately, and since a long day was nearing its end, and after performing ablutions, they set off to find lodging for the nightly nonce at, Math's castle.

Trudging up hill, with backs bowed and heads down the two Druids fared along, less than merrily, 'til about sundown, and eventually came to the top of the hill they were trudgin' upon and from which Math's castle could be espied a short distance away, on the next hill north. Now this hill they were on was curious for the fact that it had a great Dolmen atop it(the very Dolmen for which Dolmen Stout was named)and the Dolmen of concern sat in a little clearing immediately adjacent to the trail Math and Gwydion had been trudgin' up. So naturally they stopped to catch wind and Gwydion took this opportunity to pass wind and the twain Druids just as naturally looked over at the Dolmen, because it was a famous landmark, and lo, sitting on the Dolmen was the most beautiful human woman those Druids had ever espied, and they were spooked.

But the WG, in her guise as the most beautiful human woman ever, spoke unto the Druids and the staves She spoke were, "Hello boys".
_____

to be continued..............

by Nancy, the Goddess of Practical Jokes

Ray's Thought for the Day

Tribe Bombini. The adjacent occurred at the Lady Bird Johnson Wildlower Center. The bumble bees is workin'. Also in that particular flower bed besides the Eyngium leavenworthii the bumble bees is workin', was some blue sage (Salvia azurea) and some partridge pea (Cassia fasciculata).
Bombini was workin' them too. Bombini, you see, are not particular about where they get their nectar. If they can't get their big old heads inside a corolla, cause the corollas too little, they chew a hole in the base of the corolla and slurp out the nectar that way. They do this lots with sages, Salvia.

No Wonder !

There are so many republicans! Glen Rose says this often, usually in response to some incredible stupidity, the ignorant and vulgar on our side have perpetrated. And I, being ape-like, though not quite so ape-like as Lomo, ape this expression in similar situations, just as I am at the nonce, aping it. No wonder there are so many republicans.

Ever since the inception of NEPA the progressives, or whatever you want to call them, of these Yore Nited States have been attempting to get NEPA to work right, or work at all. Clean air, clean water, culture, nature, environmental justice; lots of people wanted to see these attributes conserved and improved upon, and NEPA was the umbrella law to conserve and improve these attributes under. And lots of us starry eyed progressives,hmmmm, let's call us, whatevers, got jobs in the agencies, in our particular specialties doing NEPA.

All the laws under the NEPA umbrella had opponents though, who did not like the laws, for a variety of reasons. Some of these reasons were; 1) NEPA infringed on private property rights, 2) NEPA cost too much, 3) NEPA caused project delays, 4) NEPA increased paper work, 5) NEPA was impossible to understand. 6) NEPA cost jobs. And actually all these reasons were, to some extent valid, and with a little hyperbole on the part of the republicans, this validity did leaps and bounds. And soon with the hyperbole mill at full slosh the republicans had the government, theoretically, seizing private property and squelching private enterprise with bureaucratic entanglements. Meantime though, no private property was actually ever seized and the economy grew apace, despite NEPA, and no doubt due to the republican hyperbolic vigilance.

Coincidentally, as is usually the case, the republicans who created the most hyperbole over NEPA were the very same republicans who had their snouts neck deepest in the federal treasury and who wanted to get paid off and not do any paper work fer it, and not leave a paper trail. This is why pork is called pork because pig snouts are neck deep in the federal treasury. This is also why the republicans, even though they say they want to diminish government, really don't, because if they got rid of the government, no one would be around to slop them, the republicans with their pig snouts in the national treasury, I mean trough. (The preceeding really is a dreadful extended metaphor. I know that deep down, but I am weak and just sometimes can't control myself).

In addition to the hyperbole (lyin'), the republicans hit upon a second strategy for rendering the laws of the land null and void; to whit, establish a managerial job corps program for republicans so that republicans could obtain oversight level positions in the NEPA responsible federal and state agencies. This worked really well because republicans generally incapable of doing any honest work impeded and misdirected anyone trying to do NEPA work at the responsible agencies. In addition, these insider oversight republicans facilitated the transfer of slop to the hungry republicans at the trough, and, as a bonus, got slopped themselves (paid nice delicious salaries) from that same trough. So now we have republicans running agencies they don't believe should exist, dolling out federal money as part of a process they are against, and both the dolling and the government gets bigger and bigger, more slop in more troughs for the greedy snouts. (Again,I must apologize for the porcine metaphors, but after all I am known in these part by many names, and one such name is the Shoat Skitter Wrangler).

Meantime, what did the whatevers do about all this lyin', and gluttony going on before their shocked progressive eyes. Well, let's see. Hmmmm. I'll have to really think hard about that and it could take awhile. I know we had lotsa meetings and conferences on tangenitally related subtopics and we voted for democrats, but what else, what else did we do?

Some people, who did not necessarily know they were progressive, but who had property adjacent to a polluter, or were scheduled to have their properties actually and not theoretically seized via condemnation, formed groups to seek redress from the pollution and redress for their violated property rights. With the republican hyperbole snorting merrily along these groups were termed NIMBY in the press, standing for Not In My Back Yard, and everyone was supposed to get from this that NIMBYs were a bunch of selfish ludite assholes, standing in the way of some republicans requiring expedited access to the trough.

To be fair, though, much good work was done under NEPA, and much worse evil than has occurred to date, was delayed because of NEPA and NEPA workers. And the work was what we were hired to do. However, it should have been obvious to more of us, that we could not do our jobs without simultaneously neutralizing the republican hyperbole (lyin'). We did not do this, and now we may not have many jobs either, anon, because those will go to more of the piggies.

Which fetches me up to a pivot point and one of my favorite subtopics, lyin'. As you know by now Druids don't like lyin' or liars and we also believe in payback. But payback is a two-edged sword that always rebounds on a liar and glutton. Here's an example, one of the hundreds of examples I have memorized.

There is a genus of orchids called by the Latin name, Spiranthes. There are lots of different kinds of them, maybe, and the different kinds are hard to tell apart. One of these, the Navasota ladies' tresses (NLT)(Sprianthes parksii) was designated as an endangered species and it was one of the ones that was very hard to tell apart from some of the other ones. In fact, some in these parts and elsewhere, said it was impossible to tell it apart. Nevertheless, it was listed as an endangered species with no evidence that it was a species, and a great deal of hyperbole was vented all around on account of it. Even I participated and that's indicative of my slow and intermittent progress from the perspective of the White Goddess.

Anyway, now the genetics is in on these, pretty much, and the NLT has the very same genes as another, much more common and widespread Spiranthes orchid. Oops! So the republicans were right all along and the govenment was out to ruin them? Naw, they still made out OK. They kept their snouts right in the trough.

But what about our side, the whatevers. We, some of us, who knew better, for a good cause maybe, protecting a bit of the post oak savannah, lied. And some of us are still trying to lie about this. I actually heard the proposition uttered that "Genetics can prove a species, but not disprove a species". I have heard this same proposition uttered as "Habitat can be proved as occupied, but not disproved as occupied". The second of these may be logical, if not biologically true, so only a partial lie, but the first is certainly a whole hog lie.

The justifcation for this kind of lying is that we do not have a tool to protect the landscape unless the landscape has an endangered species in it. (Even this protection is dubious, because these days, the burden of proof is upon us to find dead bodies of an endangered species, slain directly by the action). Not easy that.

But is it justifiable to create an endangered species for the purpose of protecting a landscape that needs protecting? Easy that. No.

Instead, we need to organize and fight for what landscape features we want to see preserved, and we need to do this at a scale sufficient to house the maximum number of threatened little wonders. Otherwise, we will lose thousands of the little wonders forever.

To do this we need to seize the moral high ground. Stop lyin'. Challenge the piggy lies, publicly on every occasion. Don't let them get away with anything. Build political alliances with those adversely impacted by NEPA disfunctionality,that is almost everyone, but especially the working class, the service class and the little bosses. Convince them that it is in their interest to have clean air, clean water, nature, culture and environmental justice.

For reasons that are obvious to the Druidry in these parts, the mechanism for exposing the piggy lies and buildng alliances with others afflicted by their lies is "follow the money trail". Use the money trail to expose their lyin' natures.

Ray's Thought for the Day

The reason we don't have much to say about democrats, good or bad, is because they are irrelevant.

The above was spelled this mornin' when I was sleepy and grumpy. Now havin' thought the same thought several times, I have decided that democrats are not irrelevant and that I was bein' too cynical. And honestly, I don't know why we don't spell about 'em more, here at RGVECB.

Two Quick Notes from the LDR

The Goddess is getting seriously fed up with Her current sungod iteration and his slack-jawed entourage. They are lootin' the national treasury, lyin' and gluttonous in the extreme.

We are making some progress on the salve ingredients.

How Do I Become A Druid?

Easy that. The topic Red's Good vs. Evil Cow Barn is a guideline for just that, How Do I Become A Druid? However, because it is such a collaborative effort of the Cow Barn, plus the Druidry in these parts, including Tabby Labbers, and because it isn't finished, (some topics are immortal), the senior Druidry, including some Haint Druidry, has decided to provide an abbreviated guideline to get you started with Druid training in case you "ain't got awhile".

1) Memorize as much data as you can and keep memorizing data until you start to see patterns. G. R. is perhaps the best example we know of on how to go about doing this. At any rate, after you learn to see patterns, you will become an Ovate and you will be able to predict future events with amazing accuracy, even without recourse to drinking bull blood and sleeping rolled up in raw bull hides or eating psilocybin mushrooms.

2) Focus on just one subtopic, or as many as you think yer noggin can handle. If you try to handle more than one, they will have to be sufficiently analogous to produce over-lapping patterns. If yer really smart you can handle about four, maybe, although we strongly recommend no more than three on account of the Triple Goddess which as we have probably pointed out previously is another spelling of the White Goddess.

3) Druids are, and have always been consultants/entertainers. Use what you memorize and see patterns in to make a living and to influence yer environment in a way that is favorable to you and the White Goddess.

4) Honor the Goddess. This means that you have to recognize that everything, that is every uckingfa thing alive, has intrinsic importance unto itself. If this wasn't so, every uckingfa thing would stop straining to live and/or replicate itself. This intrinsic self-importance is all you have in common with everything else and serves as the only important underpinning for altruism. (Considered bizarrely, this is why yer mommy told you she would always love you no matter what you did). It is also, if you are untrained, ignorant and vulgar, the only phenomena that connects you up with the White Goddess. If you can't understand this, you will never be a Druid.

5) Learn the old stories about the Goddess. There are lotsa good ones and you can read them on yer own or wait for RGVECB to spell for you the correct version of the rest of them and interpret them for you. The "Adventures of Bloudewedd", for example, is upcomin', anon.

6) It is very helpful in Druid training to anthropomorphosize the Goddess. And after a little effort on yer part, She will start to make this easy. Consider this passage from Coleridge:

Her lips were red, Her looks were free,
Her locks were yellow as gold.
Her skin was white as leprosy.
The Nightmare Life-in-Death was She,
Who thicks man's blood with cold.

Perhaps you can see from this why we at RGVECB and Elsewhere sometimes express concern about our (the Druidys) slow and intermittent progress vis-a-vis our relationship with the Goddess. Also, for those many of you wandering in the loss of yer Catholic faith, you might find it helpful to envision the Goddess dressed up in a nun's habit.

Also it is very helpful to de-anthropomorphosize yerself and to think like a plant or animal, or even become a plant or animal, occasionally. Get yerself a totem er two.

7) Recognize that myth (all kinds) and nature (all kinds) are inextricably linked. If one dies or starts getting sick, so does the other. Really understanding this, may take a while.

8) Always tell the truth (if asked a direct question), restrain yer gluttonous appetite (the Goddess wonders over a fat Druid and suspects slow progress), always do payback.

9) Strive for satire, not cynicism.

10) Have lotsa fun.

11) Some of the Druidry hypothesize that Druids are born (natural born), not made. If they are correct, then you may never get to be a Druid. On the other hand, if you have read all this..............
_____

Questions or comments should be sent to "Ask the Lovely Druidess Rayetta" who according to the LDR knows just about everything.

This subtopic has been made probable by the combined efforts of,

Badgemagus Swineherd, PhD.
Nancy, the Goddess of Practical Jokes
Red Ears, proprietor of RGVECB
A Haint Druid er Two
_____

We do not discriminate on the basis of race, color or phylum, but we do discriminate on the basis of creed.

The ArkDruid

Ray Re-thinks Red Rhodophilias

I, Ray have some afterthoughts on the subtopic of these Rhodophilias described in my Thought for the Day, just this morning. So here are some more interesting observations.

They seem to always bloom from mid-August until first frost, but are very much rain dependent much like our native rain lilies of the genus Cooperia and/or maybe Zephyranthes. Last year we had lotsa rain in August and they bloomed in August, mostly. This year they didn't bloom in August (no rain), but roared up, sure enough, right after that 2.5 incher we got last Saturday.

The first thing they do after getting a good rain during the time frame noted above is send up the flowering culm. Sometime after the flower culm withers away, or gets et by a deer, they start sending out long skinny basal leaves that can last all winter, and that may not entirely disappear, 'til spring.

They have good-sized mother bulbs, much like the giant rain lily (Cooperia drummondii) only they are more oblong where the Cooperias are more round. They are vigorous bulblet producers in a good year. Probably the best time to dig up the bulbs, (if you want to separate 'em) is late winter-early spring.

This photo shows Lomo goin' along with his gas powered drill and giant bulb plantin' drill bit. Can you spell "cuttin' edge technology"?

Ray's Thought for the Day

Here's something interesting that tails in with my revisin' of the RGVECB plant list which is roaring along at super sonic speed and will be completed, in so far as these type documents are ever completed, anon.

According to Scott Ogden in "Garden Bulbs of the South", 1994, a German immigrant to these parts, Comfort specifically, went into the bulb export-import business, in these parts, back in the 1850s, or thenabouts. He, the German immigrant, went by Peter Henry Oberwetter. Then the Civil War came along and Mr. Oberwetter had to hop it mighty quick to Mexico for political reasons, him being on the wrong side of the slavery subtopic in the Texas of those days. But he kept up with his business and when the dust settled in these parts, he moved to Austin where he persisted in the bulb export-import business.

One of the bulbs he imported from Argentina or Uruguay, maybe, was one that is now appellated as Rhodophilia bifida by some among the learned, but the less inclined to Latin call oxblood lilies or confederate lilies, maybe. We have a great many of these lilies at RGVECB that we inherited from the previous tenant of RGVECB and even though they are non-native, and in deference to their great beauty, historiosity, and the fact that they only increase by bulblets, and therefore are unlikely to get loose and make a nuisance of themeslves, we keep em' on and encourage them, a tad.

Up yonder somewhere to the north and west on this very page is some of 'em blooming next to some big bluestem (Andropogon gerardii).

Ray's Thought for the Day

Gwydion, Son of Don!

Beat like a red headed step-chile.

Snuffle.

Snuffle.

Workin, workin, pistol packin, workin , workin.......

Ray's Thought for the Day

We had technical difficulties last night at RGVECB situating in the neighborhoods of electric media transportation and telescopery. Consequently, for the nonce, I, Ray. being an accountable Druid and wore out from having to deal with those neighborhoods, almost by myself, am rendered thoughtless, for the nonce.

So perhaps, I'll just sit here for a minute and perhaps hum a little tune, quietly, to myself. Now let's see, what tune might I hum, to myself?

Ghost Orchids

Back on July 11 and 12, I, Ray decided that we needed to include the Hexalectris orchids as totem plants at RGVECB. You can read why I foretold that in my thoughts for those dates. You will need to ignore, however, that I forgot to add them to the Liturgy like I was supposed to, but will, anon. This one is Hexalectris probably nitida. Probably, because these white ones have only been found in these parts in one canyon on the Wheless Preserve. There are plenty of H. nitidas around these parts, but these are the only white ones. Note the closed, cleistogamous flowers. These are big, in the neighborhood of 18 inches tall. I sort of get creeped out by them, because they are colored so much like the Goddess' complexion. Also, being very, what some might call superstitious, I consider them to be a sign. So does the Crumby Ovate who first encountered them. Anon, we will put up some more pictures of the Hexalectris orchids inhabiting these parts.

3) Class

by Dr. Badgemagus Swineherd, PhD.

Class is leaving the furniture in the double wide. Har, har. They showed some class. All righty then. That's a good 'un, Red.

Ahem.

Actually, I don't know much about this subtopic. I know more about botany and er other stuff. Remind me why I'm doin' this.

By default, Badgemagus. Everyone else is stove up with this, but Ray spelled it and that's why we have to do it. Accountability. You're our only hope.

All righty then, but that Ray is due for a plant press strappin,' fer sure, Ye've let him run amok, Red.

We're lookin into measures fer Ray, Badgemagus. Lookin' in, to 'em.

Okie Dokie then.

Ahem.

Class is a very serious problem in most of the Americas if you are in the wrong class, or you are not in any class (de class). If you are in the wrong class your posessions are mainly personal and you lack access to much capital and you may, if you lose your job, become de class. If you are de class you have only personal posessions, not many of those, and you probably don't know what capital, the a and a kind, is, especially if you have been generationally de class and are, therefore, not a newcomer to de classedness. On the other hand, if you are in the right class, you have so much stuff, you get to boss the wrong classes around.
_____

Hold up here a minute. I didn't spell this. This is just rabble rousin'! Where's my notes. We need to show some scholarship, in these parts!
_____

Ahem.

One often hears about the basic goodness of us Americans. And by and
large, I think we are, a lot of us, basically just that, good. We want to
be, lots of us, just safe and happy, we have "relatively" modest
ambitions to achieve safety and happiness, and we perceive that everyone else
we both know and like is pretty much taking the same approach, so it's
easy to wax altruistic on occasion with respect to those we both know
and like. All this makes us good, and as good as we are going to get, maybe.

But then we goody two shoes, in order to achieve our modest ambitions,
must interact with the marketplace. The marketplace, as it ever has
been, is where we proffer our goods and services to others, in exchange
for their goods and services. For most of us, in the northern parts of
the Americas, undergoing the capitalistic spasm spelled, globalization,
this means we sell our services, since most of us don't have handy
access to surplus good and don't produce any manufactured goods either. Because marketplaces for services are not evenly distributed in the Americas, we shift around a lot to find the right marketplace to sell our services in. We service workers, it might be said, are a shifty lot.

Why are so many of us selling our services? Easy that. We have no access to the means of production.

Now I, Badgemagus Swineherd, PhD, feel a pivot, coming on.

Pivot - The myth of the honest worker had a huge influence on many of
the old left, anarchists especially. We saw the honest worker as a hero
sungod or goddess, wresting control of the means of production away
from the greedy capitalist and establishing an egalitarian system of
worker controlled farms and factories, globally. And, mythology aside there
were, and remain, lots of honest workers who fight hard all their
lives, and with their lives, to bring egalitarianism to the workplace, or,
at the least, to derive a better living from the workplace. But there
were/are never sufficient numbers of honest workers to bring any of
this about on a global scale. - End of pivot.

But now we, in these parts, the northern part of the Americas have been
essentially removed from the honest worker myth-making process; we no
longer, for the most part, have access to the means of production. Why
don't we have access (note I am spelling access, not ownership or
control) to the means of production? Easy that. The means of production has
gone elsewhere in search of the very cheapest labor and in search of the very fewest
constraints on, the means of production. And the very cheapest labor
has come to these parts to interact with the means of production. So
honest workers left behind with our myth of the honest worker, and with
somebody else doing our jobs for lower wages, and with plenty of time on
all our collective hands, tend to do something else, so we "perform"
services.

Now! I see Ray out there fidgetin', and the Crumby Ovate is near to a
panic attack because, so far, I Dr. Swineherd, have only spelled class,
once, and that once, in the title. But the table is now set. So let's
dig on in, to class.

The notion of class in the north part of the Americas has been
problematic. Early on, the means of production were largely bucolic and
everyone that wanted access to the bucolic means of production could have all
they wanted. Even slaves got plenty of access, though they didn't get
to keep much of what they accessed. Then population growth and the
consequent requirements of a more orderly civilization kicked in, and we
remembered our roots in Europe and how just a few people owned everything
in Europe, and we waxed melancholic for those good times and decided we
(that is some of us) needed to have classes too, only omitting the
royal class. So some rich white boys set up some general guidelines
regarding class and we follow those guidelines, as amended, to this day.

The most important general guideline is that only the richest white boys
get to be in the ruling class. This was slightly amended to admit new
slightly different types of the richest white boys every now and again,
maybe. But basically, from that day to this, the ruling class is
comprised of the richest white boys.

The only other important general guideline promulgated by the original
ruling class was that all the white boys, not just the richest ones,
should, theoretically, be free to pursue life, liberty and property. For
some odd reason they later amended property to happiness. Are property
and happiness synonyms?

But the ruling class is just one class. To get the rest of the classes
lined up everyone had to be sorted and that sorting process is ever
changing and is subject to perturbations, like for example, the War
Between the States, which pretty much eliminated the slave class, in these
parts.

Now, absent royalty and slaves, we have about five classes; the ruling class,
the service class, the little boss class, the working class and the de class. The ruling class, as always, owns just about everything, the service class, performs
services for everyone, the little boss class has limited access to the means of production sometimes, but is encumbered by an excessive tax burden, brutal competition and economy of scale; the working class, mostly foreigners (and I don't just mean aliens staying in these Yorenited States), accesses the
means of production; and the de class receives government checks in the
mail, or not, in a timely fashion.

The service class is large and diverse growing by leaps and bounds
(from crossovers from the working class and little boss classes mostly) and includes many of the rich, but not the richest, most of the working poor, and tons of the in
between - the rich and poor. The unifying theme of service people is that they have no access to the means of production, although the richer do odd things like "retire to a working cattle ranch".

The most lucrative jobs in the service class are those that provide
services to the ruling class, directly. In fact, these jobs are sometimes
so lucrative (perks), that members of the service class sometimes encounter
ruling class competitors for these positions. I believe the ruling class
competitors at this level refer to their role in this competition as,
slumming. Some of the "jobs" in this category include cabinet
secretary, federal judge, ambassador, CEO of a small corporation, prezidink of
these Yore Nited States, etc.

Then there are a whole bunch of unbelievably aggravating jobs in the service
class too, so aggravating that they are probably not worth doing, like leaf-blowing, and the practitioners of these jobs are very unlikely to have legal intimate relationships with a ruler. Most of the service class jobs, though, fall in the middle range, in both salary and aggravation, and the lucky service class guy or gal might get to service someone, sometime, a step or two down from a ruler if they're on the ball and a go-getter. The Crumby Ovate yonder falls in the lower range of this latter category for he told me he once saw a copy of the Texas Governor Bushnoid's signature on an Environmental Impact Statement.

So that about sums up my opinions on class. They exist, the lower four are slightly fluid, and the ruling class, with its gluttonous proclivities and ideological poisons and the general acceptance of this ideology among the ignorant and vulagr is pushing the Goddess to Her limits. But I am old and feeble, and would like a Dolmen now, so I quit, fer the nonce. This has been a great strain, on me.

All righty then Badgemgus. Let's go have us a Dolmen er two.