Friday, March 17, 2017

Party or Not: What's a Green to Do?

by Zvi Baranoff

Now is not the time to build a national political party. Time is too short and there is too much critical work at hand to waste energy on a process that will not work. Circumstances may vary on a local or state level but "alternative" national level
political campaigns are counter-productive to a true Green agenda.

An Arizona statewide Green conference in Cottonwood
 in the 1980's with this writer in the middle of it all. 


There are deep structural impediments to creating a viable national "third" party. Unlike newer democracies, we do not have proportional representation. Electoral reform can be brought about to some degree on local and state levels through referendum or legislative decisions of existing governmental bodies (mostly controlled by Republicans and Democrats although some local city councils and such are nonpartisan). Maine passed a change to an electoral system of "preferential voting" which would open up a rational for organizing as a "third" party on the state level. Electoral reform to our national elections would require a Constitutional Amendment which takes years to bring about and broad popular and political support. Note that the Equal Rights Amendment never become law.

Without electoral reform first, the best result that a "third" party can hope for is to be the "spoiler". Because of our weirdly structured electoral system, it does not require a lot of votes to be the spoiler. In the most recent presidential election, Trump won six states by around 1% of the vote. He won the Presidency although he received millions of votes less than another candidate. None of the Above voters and non-voters in six states clearly tipped the scales. A 1% difference in two states would have resulted in a different outcome. That is math and physics.

In the 1980's Bernie Sanders was elected Mayor of Burlington, VT as a Socialist. At the time he was an example of the possibility of a "third party" success. His success has proved to be an anomaly.

As an Independent Congressman and then an Independent Senator, Sanders chose to caucus with the Democrats. He chose to run for President in the Democratic Party primary and did a hell of a job. Folks working with him also did a hell of a job influencing the rewriting of Democratic Party rules and writing a very good platform for 2016. The sections on criminal justice, drug reform and cannabis bordered on perfection. Environmental policy was fairly well presented as well.


The reason that Bernie Sanders, an Independent, chooses to caucus and work with the Democratic Party is that it is an effective strategy for now. If circumstances change, his options are open...and so are mine.

In reality, America does not have a two partys or a two party system. America has two large and somewhat shifting coalitions that are known as the Republicans and the Democrats. Only a broad coalition can form a government and one can pretty much only effect policy if one is part of the ruling coalition. That's the way it works.

Like the Greens in Europe, I choose to work, on the electoral level, within a coalition. Our electoral system, however, is structured very differently from most European democracies. Structure determines strategy. Form of organization needs to be based on what can be accomplished. The stakes are serious and the options are narrow. Hopefully we each make wise choices.

Tuesday, January 24, 2017



 Observations from Woodpecker Flats


 rambling and ambling generally forward
eventually getting to the point
and beyond

by Zvi Baranoff

I intend to aim at the truth. I expect to at least flirt and dance around with truth and even occasionally hit the mark. But telling the truth is a dangerous and slippery slope. Once you start, consequences are likely to spin rapidly out of control. Truth is hard to pin down. It is elusive and sometimes goes bump in the night. Fortunately, we are mostly protected from that danger. We have a general common agreement to accept lies and falsehoods as realities which of course allows us to continue on with our days of working (or, at least pretending to work) and consuming - keeping the whole game going. So, we stand in lines, wait our turns, pay our bills, mow our lawns...keep smiling and have a nice day. Who am I to rock the boat?

The board game Monopoly of course is familiar to most folks likely to read my ramblings. In order to play, all the participants have to agree to a set of rules and parameters that make that artificial reality true for the extent that they all agree to play that particular game. It's fun to play for a while. It's nice to just pass Go and collect $200. At some point however we fold up the board, put it away and play something else. It's only a game. 

Sometimes the board is overturned and the funny money is scattered all around. These things may happen when the common agreement to the rules of the game, the common acceptance of certain untruths, break down. In 1967 Yippies tossed dollar bills onto the floor of the New York Stock Exchange from the visitors' gallery and nothing has been the same since. They secured the visitors' gallery.

After the Yippies knocked over the Monopoly Board in 1967


The untruth, distorted truth, fractured truth, lying is endemic in our culture, perhaps even encoded in our DNA. At the very time of creation, the Attribute of Truth questioned God on the wisdom of the creation project. God chose to suppress truth to allow creation to go on as planned.

Truth be told, Henry David Thoreau had a hell of a time getting his book Walden published, and with good reasons. What publisher in his right mind wants to publish a diatribe that urges people to stop consuming? Where's the profit in that? So, I shan't make that mistake. Please, consume to your heart's content. Most important, buy this book! Buy copies for friends and relatives.

What was true then is true now. We really mostly want to be entertained, and if we are deceived along the way, so be it. We love circuses, side shows, barkers, hustlers, hucksters and charlatans in all their modern incarnations. We love television, movies, the Internet, kaleidoscopes and magic lanterns - pretty things, shiny stuff, anything that glows we imbue with shamanistic power and defer our better judgement.

Of course, Thoreau played a bit of slight of hand with his presentation.  Henry David claimed to be a squatter. In truth he was staying with permission on a friend's land. He claimed that it was the story of one year at Walden, but in fact he took two years of hanging out to write the book. And of course he claimed that the book is about Walden and the color of ice and the local wildlife and such, but he really had a far more complicated hidden agenda.

So, following Henry David's lead, this is the simple story of aging Back to Land Hippies living at Woodpecker Flats and the garden and the deer and the rains and the snows. It is not an economic, political or cultural critique. We will seemingly bring an end to poverty, create shelter for the homeless, heal the planet and repeal the Law of Gravity because nothing can hold us down...but, it is only the ramblings of an old man, so please don't take any of it seriously.  The economic and political establishment has nothing to fear from these patterns of words that I draw out here. Stories are just stories. My writing reflects my heartbeat, memories, perceptions, obsessions, visions, delusions and hopes. These words won't shake the foundations of inequality, disrupt oppression nor open the prison gates. Those sorts of changes result from massive cultural shifts taking place well beyond our tiny pocket of rural minimalist existence and my limited powers of persuasion. Take it all with a grain of salt, but if my writing inspires your inner Dadaism, I suppose that would be an artful thing.

Not so long ago, one of the corporate publishing giants that dominate the book business had a successful run with a title that claimed that everything the author needed to know to navigate his universe he learned in kindergarten. Surely it must have been an incredible institution. Myself, I think I may have learned a thing or two in factories and warehouses and offices. I picked up a lesson or two in court houses and jails and prisons and probation offices. There are lessons to be learned in the streets, in squatter communities, in ghettos, in rural enclaves, in the suburbs. There is much to be learned in banks and in underground economies, from outlaw enterprises and nonprofit profiteers and some truely inspirational experiments of both the cooperative and individualistic kind. There is certainly much to learn from a compost pile and watching the patterns of flowing water can shake loose some very useful insights. It is a complex and nuanced universe that I transpire and likely you as well. I am surely still learning my way around.

We see the world around us largely through mythological patterns. What we think we understand of our history is examined through the dominant illusions that we choose to accept. Philosophies, ideologies and religions give us context and form to define and navigate the undefinable and unnavigatable. Truth be told, we are each doing time on Planet Earth and everyone is doing life without parole. No one gets out alive. That is a pretty good bet. Feel free to plan otherwise. Everyone has to do their own time and do it their own way.


                                      

Hippies on the Cover
Hippies here too!



I came up during the Vietnam War. Vietnam perculated into the American home through television and the evening news. Where you stood on the War determined which mythologies you chose to live by. Nixon's mythological Silent Majority (later morphed into the Moral Majority) competed toe to toe with the alternative mythologies of a Counter Culture, Woodstock Nation and such. Hair was on Broadway. Peter Max created psychedelic advertisements, 7-Up called itself "The Un-Cola" and the system, in many ways flexible, resourceful and clever, found a way to turn a buck on the whole thing. By the time most people heard of cool and groovy, it wasn't.

The schools, at least in theory, prepared us for adulthood but the only adulthood I could imagine was being shipped off to the Southeast Asian jungles with a likelihood of coming home in a body bag. This did not appeal to me in the least.  Shipped to Vietnam or tripping off to the Woodstock Nation was the binary choice I perceived even before I hit puberty. I decided when I was fairly young that I was going to be a hippie when I grew up! Long hair, nudity, lots of colorful clothing, rock & roll and pot! How's that for a career choice? Frankly, if I had known the how much work is actually involved in being a hippie, I might have charted a different life course. Ah, but I was young.

Push came to shove. People marched in the streets. Police rioted in Chicago and the National Guard shot students dead on a campus in Ohio. Lines drawn with seemingly no good way out. Airplanes were hijacked. Bombs were detonated. Weathermen and Black Panthers were contemplating armed insurrection. And then Abbie Hoffman and Allen Ginsburg and something like a million witches and hippies and crazies and students and workers and such converged on the Pentagon and levitated it and the illusion of power held by the Military-Industrial Complex just faded away for a minute and the Movement ended the Vietnam War. Yes, I know that the levitation took place in 1968 and the Vietnam War ended years later. In 1972, as a middle schooler, I campaigned for George McGovern, the anti-war candidate. Tricky Dick Nixon was re-elected in a landslide in spite of massive political opposition to the War, the ongoing destruction and gore in Asia, growing active acts of resistance on the homefront, the chaotic klaidoscopic images broadcasted on the Nightly News and the doors I knocked on for McGovern. Of course, it is all a matter of perception.

With the Vietnam War over and the draft on hold, the Counter Culture disappeared from the mainstream media. The very strange long-haired Charlie Manson and his pseudo-hippie followers had committed some bizarre crimes and having long hair became really inconvenient and it was much harder to catch a ride hitchhiking. The 60's were over I was told again and again. It had lost all it's marketable charm. It was time to give up such nonsense and dreams, get straight jobs and get on with growing up. I stuck out my thumb and bummed around, sleeping on beaches and in the woods and on the side of the road. Rumour had it that the Counter Culture was still out there somewhere and if anyone could find it, I could! And, of course, I did, and of course there is much to the story that we will skip over for now.

Many calendars later and after the turn of the century and then some, we arrived in Oregon in time for me to cast a vote to legalize marijuana.

We had left Florida where I had been stripped of my right to vote due to a bad taillight, a traffic stop, a highly questionable search, arrest and conviction for possession of marijuana. I turned 50 in a County Jail in Gainesville, Florida. I sat in a Federal Prison in Jesup, Georgia while state after state liberalized their pot laws and Colorado and Washington State legalized cannabis. I served over three years away and an additional period of Federal probation.

Barb at our temporary office in Eugene, Oregon


The first time we came to Oregon was in 1989. I was one of the editors of Green Action, a nationally distributed alternative publication out of Tempe, Arizona. Lots of folks, myself included, were inspired by the incredible success of the Green Party first in Germany and then spreading worldwide in the 1980's and had great hope that a parallel political and cultural phenomena could sprout in the USA. Independent groups across the country defined themselves as Greens and networking of various sorts was taking place. With the help of some very creative and far sighted folks like Stan Pokras of Philadelphia, we held simultaneous Green meetings in several cities linked by computers with dial up connections. At the same time, a somewhat ambiguous organization calling itself the Committees of Correspondence - a name drawn from  pre-revolutionary American history and totally obscure to anyone but a history buff - saw themselves as the vanguard of a developing Green Party for the United States. They were doing all they could to define the agenda, including a nearly pathological refusal to discuss cannabis and an ideological opposition to using computers for networking. Meanwhile, on another continent, in a country known at the time as the Union of Soviet Socialist Republics, there was a massive political reevaluation and upheaval taking place called Glasnost, in Russian meaning opening, which was shaking the foundations of Russian Communist Party orthodoxy. I picked up on the moment and published an editorial in Green Action entitled Glasnost for the American Greens with an unrealistic hope that a parallel thawing and opening could result an inclusive Green Party.

The Committees of Correspondence were holding a meeting in Eugene, Oregon with the intention of holding a national conference without remotely approaching on the issues of cannabis in any form - marijuana or hemp - as they hammered out positions on a range of issues for the yet to be political party. We helped organize a Smoke In to coincide with the Greens Conference and marched a Giant Joint directly into the stuffy meeting. The tension ran high while the organizers tried to figure how to keep us off their agenda as we filled their auditorium.

After a period of harried negotiations, they agreed to let a representative speak to the assembly for 15 minutes. Jack Herrer, author of The Emperor Wears No Clothes, stepped to the podium and presented the gatling gun version of the story of everything cannabis.

Glasnost in the USSR lead to a wave of change throughout the Soviet sphere, the fall of the Berlin Wall, the dismantling of the Soviet Union. Ronald Reagan said "Mr. Gorbachev, tear down this Wall," and it fell but it was folks in the streets of Berlin that tore down chunks of it, played music all night long and smoked weed on top of what remained as the illusion of the invincibility of the Iron Curtain came to a seemingly instant end. Mr. Gorbachev and Mr. Reagan had become irrelevant to the events unfolding. David Bowie and his song Heroes had more to do with the mood of the day and the temperament in the streets. The folks in the streets gave up fear and the armed border guards chose not to shoot. Coincidentally, Barb and I were pulled over in South Jersey on the way to a marijuana activist meeting in our nation's capitol the very same day. A zealous officer decided it was his duty to search the fellow in the passenger's seat and I was arrested for possession of marijuana at the same time those folks in Berlin were smoking down the Wall. This was not the first arrest for me and not the the most personally traumatic nor politically significant either. This was merely one of millions of personal possession arrests that happen throughout our country. Nine time zones east of us Berliners celebrated a festival of liberty on the global cultural and political fault line that separated the East from the West. Meanwhile, in the USA...

I could not possibly have imagined, when I wrote Glasnost for the American Greens, that out of the liberalizing trends of Glasnost Russia would degenerate into a repressive, demagogic, nationalistic state ruled by Putin, or that in a comic imitation of Stalin's Communism, the COC Greens would follow through with a series of purges and rewrites of internal histories. In 2016, the Green Party, using the computer networking techniques that they disdained twenty-five years earlier, stirs the dust of disinformation, promotes itself as the pro-pot party, and their perennial presidential candidate, in direct conflict with the protestations of Russian Greens, cozies up politically and culturally to the Russian demagogue, all playing at least a minor role leading to the election of Donald Trump, a Putin wannabe, in the American Presidential elections. Truth stranger than any fiction.

This is the Giant Joint that we marched on the Greens. The following Monday we marched it to the local newspaper office. The kids playing on the joint are all grown up by now.

Around the same time that Barb and I were in Eugene helping to turn environmentalists on to weed and such, Dave and his family uprooted themselves from San Diego, California. They sold their inner-city home and purchased Woodpecker Flats, nine acres in Josephine County, Oregon, just north of the California border. Another coincidence. Things happen. They happen all the time and at the same  time. There are tales to tell that will weave their way into the fabric of this story, but not yet.

A little over a quarter century later, we are staying at Woodpecker Flats due to convoluted personal channels that lead to Dave's invitation. We are creating our current mythologies and trying to figure which end is up. The dominant myth of my creation is that of the One Old Man with a Wheelbarrow and a Shovel and how he adapts his environment as his environment alters him. We need the myths and we need to see through them to maneuver our way through this world of illusion.

Many years ago, far away in India, the God Visnu came to Tulsi disguised as her husband. Tulsi made love with the God Visnu. When Tulsi understood the truth and saw through the illusion she chose to disincorporate, leaving her Earthly personage behind. Her body became a river. Her hair became Holy Basil. Two Holy Basil plants, with our encouragement, grew in pots at Woodpecker Flats, in Southern Oregon, far from their natural Indian homeland.

I grapple with the concepts of "natural" and "organic" when I muck about in my garden, the cadence and rhythms of the words and the deeper meanings that we have infused the words with. Natural gardening has an esthetic that I appreciate and is worth encouraging on that basis. Esthetics appeal to me far more than the mythologies based in efficiency and manipulated scarcity of the dominant commercial food pyramid. Gaia worship may be hokey but not nearly the stretch of putting a dollar value on a vegetable or herb garden. I have to think of my gardening primarily as art and secondarily as therapy. Any harvest is luck, fate, the will of the gods.

The "natural" state of things, however, is decay, entropy and inertia. The "natural" state is decay in place. Things fall down, rot, break. Tooth decay, gangrene, piles of unwashed dishes and such are the natural order.  Anything we do to counterbalance this situation is a struggle against nature itself. Natural and organic gardening is anything but "natural". It is the careful manipulation of the elements of nature. It is the imitation of certain aspects of nature. A garden simply would not exist without the intervention of human nature.

The only thing naturally occuring in my garden are the weeds. Everything planted originated from some other corner of the globe. Nothing in the garden (besides the weeds) would grow without nurturing, soil enhancement and water. The natural environment and my natural garden are all together different things.

Beyond the nature of the environment, or more realistically within the nature of the environment, what is "human nature"? We are "naturally" industrious, lazy, honest, sneaky, trusting, manipulative, creative, destructive, etc., all at once. I am pretty sure of it.  Every moment, in our natural environment, it is our nature to make choices, or not. Humans are fairly predictable, except when they aren't. Expect what you will, but if there are people involved, allow for the unexpected to happen. It's only natural.

From the earliest cave drawings to the rhymes and games invented by children, to how we arrange our daily lives, we are artists by nature and by choice. We have the natural artistic ability to create myths and live by them, individually and collectively. In an instant, creating new canvases, painting new landscapes, opening portals to new worlds and cultures, we redefine reality, we levitate buildings, we bring down walls. Life is performance art on a high wire without a safety net. We define the terms of our relationship with the universe...oh yea, and then there is physics, economics, luck, social demands, fate, power relationships, legal statutes, private property and the law of gravity.

So, is this art? Well, I'll tell you the truth...there are many stories to be told from here at Woodpecker Flats and we have only just begun.


Tuesday, January 17, 2017



Who's Pie? Our Pie! We Own the Bakery!  
 Cannabis Liberation
Yippie!



by Zvi Baranoff

We made a practical political decision in the 1970's to develop the "Soft Strategy" and focus on a process of long term marijuana reform rather than an overall critique of Capitalism and Stateism. (For history buffs, note The Soft Strategy: A Yippie Manifesto For the 80's published in Yipster Times, March 1978.) By doing so, we intended to effect real change that improves the lives of millions, within the constraints of the system as it is. The broader social analysis moved to the back burner. The "temporary" alliances that developed span anarcho-communists and crypto-capitalists and all that falls in between, resulting in a blurring of ideology. The continued criminalization assured a murkiness of finances and the fuzzing of individual and collective resposibilities and accomplishments. The strategy, all told, has nonetheless resulted in long term measurable success.


We brought forth the concept of "Medical Marijuana" and developed the underground networks to supply the needs of often desperate patients while politicians were left to find their safe position. Support for medical marijuana, at least in the abstract, is now hovering around 90%, with medical marijuana legal in some form or another in most of the country. We effectively explained the distinction between hemp and marijuana, and have created the groundwork for an American hemp industry even with the support of a Republican dominated Congress. And the step by step process of decriminalization and legalization on the local and state level continues to move forward. We built broad and winning coalitions, bringing full cannabis legalization from a tiny minority position to a clearly majority backed position.

Up from the underground, the legal marijuana business is here to stay. The long term nature and structure of this newly legal business is still to be seen. I have heard much grumbling over the decades that legalization will lead to corporations like Marlboro and Budwieser controlling the marijuana business. The trend, however, may be toward the more subtle but equally corporate Starbucks and Whole Foods model, and the corporate "non-profit" model such as Habitat for Humanity and Goodwill Industries. (Gasp!) We live within a capitalist economic system and we can expect corporate organizations to dominate the emerging industry.

There are, however, other economic models that we can choose from and if we take the decisive steps now, we can help shape not only our industry but the entire economic direction of this nation for decades to come. Cooperative economic enterprises have great promise in general but may be particularly adaptable to the cannabis industry because of the counterculture roots. The examples of the Madragon model in Spain is particularly appealing but closer to home we have worker owned businesses like Winco, financial options like credit unions, consumer Food coops and energy cooperatives. Worker owned dispensaries, farmers' cooperatives, co-op processing facilities as well as consumer cooperatives are the key to maximizing the positive effect of the ongoing trending toward full legalization for both marijuana and hemp.

We are at a stage where the cannabis industry seems chock full of folks operating from self-interest with a "got mine" attitude and Green Rushers out for a quick buck. This may be understandable, but does not serve the interests of the movement in general. Indeed, we are potentially at a point of increased diversion between the interests of the movement and the industry. Folks that are now reaping healthy economic returns from legal cannabis need to fully understand that their continued security relies on the ongoing efforts of activists to defend and expand cannabis freedoms. The industry can help by preferential hiring for activists and ex-prisoners and by contributing a percentage of all income to organizations working on expanding cannabis rights. Segments of the industry that do not invest in the community risk losing the ongoing support of the community. These social concerns define a zone where the cooperative wing of the industry no doubt can take the lead.

Marijuana has deep roots in cooperative tendencies. Think back to the first joint you ever shared, passing from hand to hand in a circle down to the tinniest of roaches. Sharing is at the very core of our being. Legalization is not about the rise of a new capitalist strata. We define the future of cannabis by our actions. Cannabis Cooperativists, heed the call. Invest and work toward a cooperative cannabis future.

We must hang together or we risk being hung separately - with the hempen rope of our own making.





Saturday, June 25, 2016

Views from Woodpecker Flats


                                                 Views from Woodpecker Flats




There are seven trailers,an RV and a bus on Woodpecker Flats in various stages of relative habitability. Five trailers and the RV are lived in and the bus is a semi-lived in workshop.

                                          This hand points the way to the garden.
                               
                                                            My Victory Garden



                                                          A Garden Trail    

                                           Now legal in an Oregon Garden

Remains of old art projects, beginnings of new projects or just junk. Sometimes it is hard to tell.

                                                             A Stoned Bear
Big Ben Meets Salvidor Dali in the Garden
                                                   Direction and Orientation




                                                Garden art or artful garden?

                                This is how the garden looked during last winter's rains.


Our Backyard

Friday, May 20, 2016

An Open Letter to Democratic Party "Regulars"

   An Open Letter to Democratic Party "Regulars"
by Zvi Baranoff

I am an American, born and bred. Like most Americans I know, I have a healthy distrust of the political process in general and professional politicians in particular. Nonetheless, I take part in the process, as flawed as it is. I have voted for Democrats. I have voted for Greens. I have voted for Libertarians. I have actively worked on campaigns for candidates I could really get behind. At times I have passively supported candidates because they were not as bad as the "other guy". I have sat out elections when not voting seemed to be the best choice.

The Democratic Party's unofficial slogan - We Are NOT Republicans - really is not appealing enough on it's own to get my whole-hearted support. I am an independent, free thinking person. I'm a lower case "d" democrat. Democracy is a pretty good idea all told and in a more perfect world perhaps the Democratic Party would reflect democratic values in a way which would encourage me to be a upper case "D" Democrat, but that's just not the way it is. In the world as it is, the Democratic Party is an odd coalition and I am, uncomfortably at times, an on again, off again, member of that coalition.

I am currently registered as a Democrat and I voted for Bernie Sanders in the Oregon Primary. I like Bernie and respect Bernie. If Bernie Sanders gets the Democratic nomination I will certainly be a passionate supporter and probably vote for most of the Democratic ticket as well. If things turn out differently, I will keep my options open. Bernie Sanders may influence my vote but he will not control it.

The pundits and analysts do not seem to understand either Bernie Sanders or the nature of his supporters. Try as you might to write Bernie Sanders off as some sort of Utopian, but he is not. Sanders is strategic and pragmatic. I am a Sanders supporter but I am not particularly pragmatic. I am a Utopian and perhaps quite a few other Sanders supporters are Utopians as well.

The Sanders campaign has stirred me enough to catch my interest and give me hope for political progress but as a Utopian my loyalty to strategy will only go so far. My support for Sanders is contingent and nontransferable. The Democratic Party wants my vote, but cannot simply assume to have it. I need to be convinced one election at a time. I have other choices. Utopians have the freedom to act unpredictably, disconnected as we may be from pragmatism. We are motivated by passion and vision. And we are a disorganized element with no leadership. I can speak only for myself because that is what it is like to be an independent, free thinking individual.

I do understand that in the upcoming general election, the next person elected President of the United States will be the person at the top of either the Democratic or the Republican ticket. I am pragmatic enough to know that the "Not Republican" is probably a better option than the Republican. That said, we survived Republican administrations before and four years of Trump would certainly be unfortunate but it would not be the end of the world.

Is the Democratic Party pragmatic enough to understand they have no lock on my vote? I won't be voting for Trump but I always have other choices than voting for the lesser evil. I could just stay home and bake cookies. That's an option you know. Or I could join together with other independent, free thinking individuals and actively rock the vote by supporting an alternative to the Two Parties That Are One. When it is time to place the final bets for this election, how much is the Democratic Party willing to gamble that folks like me will fall in line?

When the Democratic Convention takes place in Philadelphia neither of the two candidates will have enough elected delegates to gain the nomination. Super Delegates are faster than a speeding bullet and can leap tall buildings with a single bound. The Super Delegates will decide which candidate will be at the top of the ticket. The American voters however will choose who is elected in the General Election come November and the Democratic Party cannot win without the support of a significant number of independent voters.

Democratic Party Regulars, you don't know me and probably don't know many like me. Certainly you don't think about folks like myself often, if at all, but you really should. Independent, free thinking individuals ultimately make or break any organization and independent, free thinking individuals determine the outcome of elections...and there are millions of us!

So the Democratic Delegates will meet in Philly - elected Delegates and Super Delegates - but there will also be the Delegation of the People in the streets and the Democratic Party would be wise to pay serious attention to that unelected, self-appointed Delegation of independent, free thinking individuals because they may be the Delegates that ultimately count the most. The Super Delegates can help choose Bernie Sanders to lead the Democratic Party through the election, win the Presidency, gain control of the Senate and improve the Party's position in the House. Or they can place a dangerous bet that may backfire beyond the Party's worst nightmares. The Delegation of the People will be there to remind the Super Delegates - all upper case "D" Democrats - that they need the lower case "d" democrats with them in November.

Democratic Party Regulars, you need to get out your best divination tools and conjure up the spirit of the ultimate insider and true Machiavellian, Lyndon Johnson, because LBJ understood how to build winning coalitions and learned firsthand what happens when a coalition unravels. Here is the question to ask the ghost of LBJ; Concerning the unaffiliated, the independents, the outsiders, the rabble, is it better to have these people inside the tent pissing out or outside the tent pissing in?

LBJ knew all about the big tent and what it feels like when folks like me decide to stay out and piss in. That is how his administration came to it's unfortunate end. That was a long time ago but as Democratic Party Regulars, you must surly know your own history. Now is the time to determine your future. Philadelphia may be the sight of a great Democratic Party or it might just turn into a pissing contest. It is really a matter of choice.

See you in Philadelphia.

Saturday, March 5, 2016

New Mythologies and Musing from the Garden In Oregon

Any comparison to Thoreau's Walden need be colored by this fact. In 1844, on a camping trip, Thoreau accidentally set fire to 300 acres of the Concord woods. What a screw up! I have never done anything like that! 

The photos were grabbed off the Internet. I have asked for and received no permission to use them

Oregon Musing 

“Let us cultivate our garden.” 
― Voltaire 


We arrived at Woodpecker Flats on April Fools Day. Dave was fool enough to invite us to stay and we are fools enough to have taken him up on it. How we got to this place at that time is open to interpretation. The story cannot be told in a straight line. The myths that we choose to live by are the myths that we create for ourselves.


So, this is the story about how Alachua Habitat for Humanity in Florida made us homeless and how we came as refugees to Oregon and became pioneers ending homelessness and hunger through direct action. O.K. It's more complicated than that, but we can elaborate further later on. First, these musings from our Oregon garden.

Too much water or not enough? The same question for fertilizer and sunshine.

The real garden question is: How do the deer prefer their vegetables grown?

We are living at Woodpecker Flats located on nine acres in O'Brien, Josephine County, southern Oregon, near the junction of Loony Mountain Road and No Way, not real far north of the California borderline. It is largely wooded - predominantly pine, manzanita (which I am told is related to the blueberry) and more - with some clearings.




The manzanita fruit is edible and has a pleasant tartness, but it causes gastrointestinal upset if eaten in large quantities. It is not much like a blueberry.

The property owner is an esoteric artist. There are some random sculptures and the remains of some old projects including a tree-house that has fallen out of the tree and the Bus Stop to Nowhere.

I began my share of tera-forming with some trails and garden patches. The ground is hard, iron rich and very rocky. I have "harvested" piles of rocks and have incorporated them into garden walls, terraces and a sculpture entitled Big Ben Meets Salvador Dali in the Garden.



Inspiration for my sculpture.

We received some seed packs from a local food bank and some more from a friend in town. Liz had a tin with a variety of seeds marketed as a "Survivalist supply. So, veggie and flower seeds in hand, we are off and running...

My initial garden idea was to create a living art project. Nice, comfortable strolling paths with artistically placed edible plants and flowers along the way. The local deer seem to appreciate the effort. They like to eat the tops off of plants. Marigolds - yum! So now, we have wire fencing around and over everything with the hope that the deer, the bugs, the birds, the wild monkeys (just seeing if anyone is still paying attention) will leave something for us to harvest...and clearly not enough protection. Chomp, chomp, chomp. Fourteen tomato plants decapitated. Peas nearly annihilated. More wire.

I have been told that this region has one of the largest concentration of deer in North America. This may be true. I had an extended conversation with a fairly large deer one recent morning. I asked him if he didn't have enough other things to eat without messing with the garden. He scoffed.

Summer was hot and dry which I assume is about normal. One day, as we sat outside discussing deep thoughts and abstract philosophy we hear a clunk from inside the camper. On examination we find that a glass bottle of olive oil - extra virgin, organic - exploded from the heat. Glass particles and oil everywhere. Glad we were outside.

Josephine County has almost no local government. There is a volunteer Fire Department. The library is funded by donations - it receives no County money - and, the local branch is only open 13 hours a week. I heard recently of a (non-fatal) shooting with a Sheriff Department response time of two hours! Don't know if that is true but it seems plausible. I was told this by a woman who claimed to be a Volunteer Sheriff and Fire Fighter. (She had a handgun on her hip.) She also told me that a tiger had escaped from the local Wild Cat facility, mated with an indigenous cougar and now there are two cubs (tougars?) wandering around. Hmm...seems unlikely to me. What about you? Which reminds me of the story about the guy who walks into a bar with a giraffe...




This police car is parked at the blinking light.
 

I have yet to see a cougar or a bear although I am told that both are present. We have had close encounters with deer, hummingbirds, a jack rabbit, snakes, lizards and other sorts of flying, buzzing, hopping, squirming and crawling creatures. And oh yes, that rattle snake certainly got my attention and respect.

The night sky here is incredible! Stars, stars, and more stars. Star travel? Alien visitors? Why not? And it is quiet. Not much traffic in the daytime and even less at night. There are sounds of wild creatures. Also sometimes you hear a neighbor's rooster and there is a donkey nearby that likes to bray. And there is the occasional gunfire - pop, pop, pop - I guess because they can, There was a large amount of helicopter summer traffic. There is a forest fire out there...

July First something miraculous happened. In gardens all over Oregon tomato plants metamorphosed into cannabis plants. According to a new Oregon law, every household MUST grow four marijuana plants. I think that's the law. I know it is something like that. Anyway, glory be, we found four marijuana plants growing in our veggie plot. Thank God for marijuana.

I have begun dismantling an old trailer, saving parts, particularly windows. I have a pile of old tires and a collection of bottles and jars. We intend to build an Earthship greenhouse. It is possible to grow even tropical plants year-round if you get it right. I saw a video of pineapple growing in an Earthship in Canada! Commercial greenhouse? Starter plants? Exotic vegetables? Indeed, why not? Well...have you ever filled even ONE tire with dirt? It is very labor intensive. For labor we have one old man and for tools we have a wheelbarrow and a shovel. We had a few filled before the rains start.   

And then October came and as it went it began to rain. It hasn't stopped yet and Woodpecker Flats has become a river. Much of the garden and all of the paths have washed by our door and our camper has become Huck Finn's raft. We shall see where it floats to. The deer still find us charming and amusing and it is time to start the spring garden.

Sunday, October 12, 2014

Poetry as poetry...



10/12/14 by Zvi Baranoff
for the poets still here, the poets no longer here & the poet in each of us

poetry as a political act
poetry as a contact sport
as an act of love
as an exertion of self
as a denial of reality
as an expression of reality
and other realities & possibilities
poetry as revolution & counter-revolution
answering to no one
conforming to no one
street poets
bar poets too poor to buy their own drinks
unpublished or self-publishing poets
taking on the universe
one word, one beat, one syllable at a time
vibrating forever, timeless, boundless
trackless tracks in the sand