they call me "non-sequitur man"!

Playa del carmen or (Hell on Earth)

leonmac — Tue, 10 Nov 2009 07:24:17 GMT

Playa del Carmen I recently landed on planet Playa Del Carmen, Wow! what changes have taken place in the 12 years since I was here last... I have been protected on this trip and within my bubble. In so many ways, this is the opposite to a small, colonial indigenous, Guatemalan village, this is like hell on earth- or Shinjuku, or Kao Sahn Road, or Las Vegas. All the glitter and emptiness of a western consumerist megalopolis. I am a bit embarrassed, or ashamed, of the place. Kind of like stumbling into a brothel; embarrassed with realizing why everyone is there, and not wanting to take part in it. Especially after the wonder of living in close community in Colosio, during a land rush (and there arent too many of those around) where folks would rather the cheerful "pay me tomorrow" if you didnt have the change for your avocados, papayas and bananas. Than let you go away empty handed... We all lived in small huts, everyone was excited for the future. Now its an endless mall, advertising all the things you dont need and cant have. I forget that there are enclaves like this, Acapulco, Mazatlan, "...insert tourism blighted city here"... Who would choose to go to them, with nothing cultural or sustainable about them...? Playa del Carmen could be called a success story, with the fastest growing city in North America and lowest unemployment. But what a vacuum of spiritual emptiness, so immediately evident after the sincerity of highland Chiapas and Guatemala. I must have had 5 church groups on my street... Maybe I am only whining since I didnt stay all those years ago, and wandered on, away from the smell of money... L

pop corn cough

leonmac — Sat, 24 Oct 2009 07:25:34 GMT

A most unusual day... Well after only a few hours sleep on a itchy, sandy, bed (it was a cheap hostel in the very colonial part of Santiago) we traversed the dark morning streets to the police station. I could hardly believe the conversation we had with the chief the night before. The armour wearing, European descendent cop, told us without an argument, that he would assign 2 young cops to climb the volcano with us. The cop-shop was on the main square and they had a cell full, of pot heads, awaiting their bribes I suppose. Naturally I had some reservations about traveling with police. The Dutch mountain climber I was going with insisted. He read the consulate reports, and after all the bad reports of hikers on those volcanoes, (I admit I had heard a few myself) we thought it prudent to ask. The police were there in the morning awaiting us, drove us in the comfy truck to the base on the far side, drove as far up the volcano as they could actually. Good exercise, great views, no trouble. My legs were shaking on the way down. We peaked about 3500 meters, I dont know what "lake level" is at... The only thing that I would have liked differently is having to listen to the constant, scatter-chatter of police radio squawk, got to be a bit much. But... even cops get robbed up on those mountains. While we climbed one of the nearby volcanoes was erupting in faraway popcorn coughs. We later saw the ash plume. After our lovely hike up, descending the other side, riding the roof of a little logging truck, the police called in and had us picked up, with a ride back into town. It will go down on the count of rides I have had in cop vehicles where I wasnt arrested, I think the tally is still far too unbalanced... On my way to the boat launch, I bought a baby squirrel... yes, it was an impulse buy. But the salesman really knew what he was doing. Alas, the little bugger didnt last long, "Too cute for this world..." as some have said. I always love the boat rides around the lake, but then when I got home (to the house sit) with our adventurous couch surfers http://WorldOnaBike.com , I chipped my tooth on some freaking rock left in the lentil soup! Thats almost as bad as having the best sex in ones life, finishing with a champagne enema and then finding out it was "Babyduck"...

Fashion victim...

leonmac — Thu, 10 Sep 2009 06:57:04 GMT

Well I cant say that I have much of an excuse for not blogging so often. I know of all the good reasons for writing. T'would be easy to blame Tribe.net in its many dysfunctions, but... One thing that has been coming up again and again in my growth and reevaluation of things, is something so basic, so simple and perhaps so odd to me, is simply, clothes, my attachment to them and having to reassess my attitudes about them. Here in Guatemala (although I was in Costa Rica, that is another story) clothes can be found in the market for sometimes 10 cents, I am not talking about handwoven colourful Guatemalan fabrics, but end of the road, North American capitalist systems cast away clothes. Some American (and Canadian) church groups in their large-heartedness and large sizes, think to themselves, "Why wouldnt it be charitable to send these winter clothes and extra large shoes to the little brown tropical people in the south." "It would give me a chance to clear out my middle class North American closet". So on it goes, in a grand container, perhaps from Vancouver's and Seattle's very ports. What the generous and simple folks up north havent thought of, is the that those clothes will be sold to raise money for various endeavors, charitable or otherwise. Clothing the country? Or undermining domestic economies...? Where I come in is; visiting various local markets where the block loads of clothes are pushed out into large bargain booths, unsorted, piled and cheap. Some for as little as 10 cents. Great stuff, some designer and some new, some from consolidators, shoes too! So much in sizes (and fashions)"the little folk" would never be able to wear. Funny to see so many hobbit people wearing retro "Pioneer Gowns". Ah' reevaluating... When I was a boy, I dont feel like I was given many clothes. More that I had a favorite shirt, or only one pair of pants, and wore them until they ripped and fell off. Certainly not many pairs of shoes. This attitude extended into adulthood, with little extra cash for middle class prices (I had internalized my adolescent attitude of dislike of shopping, perhaps from fear of not looking like I knew what I was doing) and I hadnt discovered the joys of thrift stores. Although I would say, its not that joyful with shitty Value Village prices. At 10$ a shirt, I am still not going to buy many, but at 10 cents!? So one can play "costumes" with many different outfits, and shopping (swimming and digging through great mounds of clothes) is half the fun. Still this situation has left me a bit stunned, one can buy new clothes, cheaper than the cost of a washing service. It baffles me! And the used shoe stores here are pretty amusing, all the extra large shoes come here to rest, or be bought by the odd foreigners. (I can be pretty odd). And so I would wear clothes and shoes I never thought to wear before, try on the many guises and personalities of humanity- mix and match. It is quite amazing to try on different shoes for different purposes, something I had never done before. Slip into others clothes, try to walk a mile in their shoes. Playing the fashion explorer... although it may sound like I have turned into a girly man, I am still seldom out of Basic functional clothes. Also, tropical countries dont lend themselves to wearing a lot of clothes -less is more. So now as a traveler, I need to learn how to get rid of things, since I can only carry so much. L http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0ejLC0o3t5E

Last night I dreamt ....

leonmac — Wed, 22 Jul 2009 15:36:20 GMT

Last night I dreamt I visited my dead friend. I had used a time machine (although I didnt see the machinery). I moved back 2 days before he was going to die. He had moved, to a new place; some symbolism there. Unlike his demeanor when he had told me of his suicide plan last fall, He was more moody, stuborn, unreasonable and melancholic than ever, I suppose my mind painted him such, as I never saw him that way in living life. No, this time he acted like he didnt think I would understand, and was offended that I would try and interupt his plan. I argued with him to reconsider, pointing out what a bad idea I thought it was. I impressed upon him how difficult and unusual it was to visit him from the future. So it was from the back of my mind, that I was able to cast the illusion, that he was still alive, for those few seconds as I awoke....

You 've got to hide your love away...

leonmac — Thu, 23 Apr 2009 09:34:12 GMT

I forget sometimes, surrounded by my selected group of liberal, free, spiritual, left, green, progressive friends what its like to live amongst the conservative religious insecure, fearful folks of this world. So here I am reminded again. Cant you just hear John Lennons "Hey you've got to hide your love away"? And so I changed Hostals, with that little pinch in my heart... Only to find, the other end of the spectrum at another hostal, a kind of juvenile, adolescent, immature, attitudinal "pacheco" atmosphere, (btw thats stoner for you anglophones). Who can say whether chronic pot usage doesnt stunt ones emotional or social growth... But, yet another swing state. Generally I have been enjoying cool, colonial, highland indigenous San Christobal de Los Casas. "The founding fathers" have packaged tourism up real nice (although the town shuts quite early)- that may have something to do with the temperatures and conservative view points... I remarked, that I dont know how many towns there are quite like it in the world... Yet if you had asked me if this is where I would want to be spending my time I probably would have said, no. Its a conservative, religious, catholic place. But it is scenic, clean, cheap and safe. And really, the safety part, maybe being associated with the old fashioned or religious aspects, is important to me. I can walk home at night...I dont have to suspect every scheming, conniving person on a daily interaction. Hmmm, heading over to Comintan tomorrow, visiting with the couchsurf hosts... L

Pizza...

leonmac — Sat, 21 Mar 2009 04:46:05 GMT

Here, I thought this dserved a rant... only in Mexico... I dont know. But Shiraz was there, he will testify... We went to have pizza in Tepic Nayarit. I cautioned, that it looked like a cheap commercial kind of pizzaria and Mexico is better for tacos, but we decided to give it a try, it had a balcony and was next to the Zocalo. They came to us and apologized, "sorry, we have no tomotoes, is that still o.k. you want your pizza"? "Its been a busy day we ran out". I asked, you have tomoto sauce... and here is where the communication breakdown begins... They then brought us a vegetrian pizza with no pasta suace, they did have ketchup on the tables, hence the "idea" of tomato sauce. But what surprises me, is that they didnt send someone out to buy more, or close shop, since a pizza without tomato sauce simply isnt a pizza. And the cheese wasnt even real, some white substitute...

urineurosis

leonmac — Wed, 18 Mar 2009 20:23:46 GMT

I really dont understand and am getting fed up with this kind of neurotic, double standard of Mexico not supplying bathrooms Not providing bathrooms in all sorts of places. One would think with restaurants and cafes, there would be an obligation, we paid them for the food, they could provide us with a working bathroom. What do the workers use? Why the penalizing of a common bodily function? Is Mexican culture really that backwards? And then to pay, in so many places for the use of some dirty broken bathroom. 5 pesos. Are not gas station able to provide wages for these workers, PeMex, rakes in Billions of $, you mean there wasnt enough in the budget for the toilet? Mexico is so good for politeness and service. How or why would it stop at the bathroom..."Sorry man, you are on your own there"- every man and woman for himself!". And then these huge, turnstile, high-security, cage apparatus clicking away, like the Toronto TTC entrance. Why Mexico, why!? Here in Mexico, and I believe in the 75 countries I have visited, it may be the worst in the manners of: 1. not providing bathrooms, in restaurants, cafes, internet cafes, offices... whatever! 2. then living with the Mexican shame of urine- or perhaps its any affects of the body, and the body in general. i.e. Nude bodies... Catholicism really did a number on these people... 3. then the corrupt cops, running around extorting money out of people for the bodies necessity. Smart municipal governments, provide public services- not pass the buck. Often when governments cant or wont decide on public homelessness in western countries, they can at least provide public bathrooms FREE of charge. For the public health, we are all part of the solution. L

once upon a voyage...

leonmac — Tue, 03 Mar 2009 21:43:22 GMT

Upon passing through one of Mexicos many military check points, we experienced a search. The soldiers were casual enough, and even a little comical in their inane questioning, "!¿Que es esta?!", as they point to a jar with a teabag in it. They didnt try very hard to find anything, (but neither did my pacheco travel mates try and hide their chronic) and it was the first time I had seen them search inside a vehicle. Just before leaving, neglecting the painted over cabinets, we also couldnt open, they looked at last in the drivers bag. Finding a jar of hippie grass and pipe. A hush fell on the vehicle. I wondered how bad things could get, (I spend a lot of time in that mode). Grateful at having a chance to practice their English the officer slurred, "Joo like to smoke dee ´acheese? They then asked about the kilo or kilos. Looking back at all the crap stuffed into the vagabond school bus, perhaps they felt tired at the thought of having to go through it all or saw the simplicity of taking a bribe. Maybe they felt some reluctance to persecute the pregnant woman, and the folks with the easy attitudes... looking about the soldiers fixated on some of my carabiner, camouflage, traveler gizmos. The officer wanted to exchange the jar of Pacheco fluff, thrusting it into my hands. I tried to deny ownership of that hot potato, but was happy to facilitate the "gift" of gizmos. We were polite with each other, it was a good gift for him, after all the telescope matched his uniform. P.s. Oh I forgot to mention. At every military check there are visible explosives rigged with a wire across the road. The soldier hides in a sand bagged bunker on the other side. I suppose it puts a lar4ge hole in the road or simply explodes those who fail to stop. I realize the idea of guilt by association, and the hazards of "pacheco syndrome" Beware! Some of the recognizable symptoms include: red eyes, disorientation, dry mouth, memory loss, APATHY! ennui, and confusion. A typical dialogue may proceed thus, "I am not sure what I am doing, what are going to do? I dont know, maybe smoke some more... ad infinitum. Victims may find themselves unable to escape the gravitational pull of the pacheco pipe, finding ones life revolving around obtaining more "chronic" and getting high, over again... L

hammering one out... and concussed by falling peccaries...

leonmac — Fri, 27 Feb 2009 22:42:17 GMT

Oh, travelling south ward. Pregnancy and Pacheco syndrome slowing the bus down. Arriving in yet another sea side paradise, creeping further through southern Mexico. We drove past a burning police truck- in full bloom! Had just arrived for the big bloom of fire. My travel mates doubted we could pass and numerous Mexican vehicles fled the scene, pulling back in sloppy 5 point turns, to go another way. I encouraged our driver to go for it. Before the emergency vehicles blocked what was likely the only route from Acapulco south. Our friend claimed he saw a burning body within, but I saw nothing but the inferno. The heat was so intense as we drove by at about 60 kl, that I could feel the heat through the wall of the bus to other side where I sat. My friend driving with the window open... I could only imagine the heat he felt in passing... How did the fire start, was it maliciously motivated... This is one of the few little bites of adventure we have been sharing over the last few weeks... P.S. ahh, thought to tell about one of my many long walks into the high hills about Tulan Nayarit. When I reached the upper canyon a dead end of a dry, steep river bed. Branches and rocks cascaded down upon me, I heard loud sounds above, and what sounded like a small avalanche. My self preservation instinct kicked in and I took refuge near the hillside to avoid what was coming. It turned out that I had spooked 2 large wild peccaries/ or wild tusked pigs. They had no where to come but down at full run, and then as I was there at the bottom of the valley, and with their inertia, they went up the other side... Boy, was I surprised! That reminds me of the time when I was walking... ... ... L

lost and found

leonmac — Sat, 14 Feb 2009 20:09:21 GMT

Seemed like I was missing "Soul Train" all my life and was bornin the wrong generation and the wrong colour... You tube re-runs for dance inspiration. Gahd, I luv dem afros... Lately on some walks around the retreat center we found, many near by blessings. Wow, what a euphoric day we shared. I could ever count on a hike turning out so grand... L

falling out, falling down, tuning in, turning on

leonmac — Tue, 03 Feb 2009 20:28:19 GMT

Trying to keep everyone up to date, with all that happens. 7777/ Tulan was a great retreat, and the site is still open to recieve guests. Quite tranquil and peaceful. Have posted some photos on my facebook site. Will let you know more later... Headig back up to Tulan retreat center for more serenety after spending a few days in San Pancho and Sayulita- see my Facebook profile for up to date pics. L

life at top speed

leonmac — Sun, 18 Jan 2009 23:45:36 GMT

I had intended to write earlier, when the feelings were fresh, but life has a way of coming up again and again, nothing sitting still for long- change as a constant. Mum Kris and I teemed up with another dynamic 2 travelers for our ferrie ride. Fun and uneventful, shared a comfy cabin with unlimited hot water. Our driver wanted to travel slow and spend a night on a Mazatlan beach. Seemed a bit strange to camp out on beach in the city, inhabiting a vacant lot, that local youths use on a weekend for drinking and partying. Right away I was to experience trouble, and met the ´bad cop´. The rest of the crew went the other way to the fire with the friendly cop and nice family from Michigan. Apparently there was nothing wrong with using wood from the lot, making a fire on the beach in the city, playing ones music from the cars a mega decibals- but I was spotted far down the beach where I was peeing, and met the bad cop. Naturally I was aware of the nature of the ´shake-down´(mordida). But needed the help of our bilingual friend to barter my ´fine´down. (Student discount 15$ fine for public urination). I was laughingfor getting off easy and at the same time discouraged at the obvious corruption. Fined for something everyone does, peeing at night in a vacant lot... I didnt really mind the night on the beach and our new friends from Michigan were really sweet. But 2 of journeyers had their cameras lifted out of the vehicle, sometime that night/morning. I suffer some anger/guilt for not being able to buffer folks from these experiences. They could gain from my experience, my latent paranoia. Instead I need to let go, and let people take responsability for their own things. Yes people even laugh at me. Isnt it great when I get to say I told you so? I have thought of conducting a self-defense awareness workshop, and take more of them myself. this is a reminder to myself multi day trips in a vehicle can stress any relationship... L

The blogs I didnt send...

leonmac — Thu, 15 Jan 2009 19:57:07 GMT

One day in La Paz while considering the idea of renting a little casita. Looking about the day time steets, I came upon a rental sign, a little shirtless man named Jorge came out from inside- friendly, he introduced his name, shook my hand. I asked him, 'who would I speak to about the rental'. He said 'oh, you have a map, here, let me give you directions. Where he proceeded to draw on my new map of La Paz, a scribbled map of La Paz... It kept extending further and further, he really liked being helpful, I interjected ' and this direction is Canada and this direction Panama... The sarcasm seemed lost with him, he replied, ' yes, I wored on boats I have been to Panama!, where upon he continued drawing on my map and explaining land marks... so to the point I asked again, 'do you know who I should speak to or how much the rent is'? Dissapointedly he reponded,' no, I dont know, across the street, ask my brother, maybe he knows... L

Rookery revelry

leonmac — Sat, 06 Dec 2008 18:24:28 GMT

On one of my last adventures (glad it didnt turn out to be my last), I had decided to hike out to the rainbow camp after not getting any ride at that late date. I had already been to camp and was returning with some supplies. Some 160 kl and 4 days later, I arrived back in town. It was a beautiful and lonely walk, I was stunned with one incredible visa after another. Plenty of wildlife to keep me company along the sea shore and the dusty desert road. Rattlesnakes wait until one is within 5 feet or so before making this loud hissing and buzzing rattle, they are camouflaged in desert gray. At one point the half moon went down with bright Venus gone too, the sky opened up in such an incredible view of the Milky Way, the sea stopped its agitation and became tranquil and placid, all was serene... I experienced the use of other sensory intuition, as I walked for sometimes minutes down the smooth beach, with my eyes closed, the sea at my right, deep in revelry; at one point I opened my eyes to see a great prickly dead-head, snag right in front of my path! It happened more than once. My other senses inclined to save me from impalement. I had climbed over some shrimp farm lochs and through some estuaries, so wasnt wearing my pants for the first night (dark, late and encountering no-one). I did have a few falls that first night, unbalanced by my heavy pack, down 5 feet into some brittle brush and thorns. I stubbed my big toe, temporarily magnetizing it for furthers injuries, later dropping a small bolder on the same toe. May lose the nail... Some good blisters on the other foot, and I learned- One can only limp on one leg at a time. The muscles in my left calf still havnt recovered, limping along still. I did pass the camp earlier that night, I wasnt wearing any pants so thought it unwise to meet up with the flashlight waving folks; I couldnt believe I had already walked the more than 31 k so walked on by jumping into the high tide pool I didnt recognize...I must have been under the influence to miss the camp- head down, heavy pack, dark night... Yet all around, eagle rookeries, lizards, pelicans, hermit crabs tinkling and clinking me awake, as I slept on the purple pebble beach (they wake up at dawn too). Coyotes, road runners, wild horses and rattle snakes to startle me in the night. Scorpions, sea skates and hidden cacti to avoid stepping on. With the painted desert vistas to impress and sooth me in my sometimes tedious, sometimes lonely, sometimes worrisome and dehydrated walk. The sun would set deep reds in a big sky country, the sun would rise, also radiant colours in the clouds. So many colours are represented in the rocks here. The phosphorous mine reopened and the riches of the earth are being plundered. I passed a few fishing villages on my walk, I wouldnt have survived with getting water refills along the way. Sad that the Mexicans arent friendlier, they were kind enough to give me water, but I miss the simple, sincere, friendliness of the more remote and un-touristed parts of Latin America... One fishing village I had mistaken for the rainbow gathering burning a great fire in the A.m. hours; after many hours of exhausted beach hiking, (one leg straining and burning with the curvature of the beach). I arrived at dawn, they supplied me with water, but gave me some weird looks- Guess I should have put my pants back on... L

La Mentira (the Lie)

leonmac — Fri, 28 Nov 2008 23:44:01 GMT

Here is Manu Chao's lyrics for La Mentira (the Lie) and easy translation for those learning Spanish... mentira lo que dice mentira lo que da mentira lo que hace mentira lo que va (la mentira….) mentira la mentira mentira la verdad mentira lo que cuece bajo la oscuridad (mentira, mentira, la mentira…) mentira el amor mentira el sabor mentira la que manda mentira comanda (mentira, mentira, la mentira…) mentira la tristeza cuando empieza mentira no se va (mentira, mentira, la mentira…) mentira no se borra mentira no se olvida mentira, la mentira mentira cuando llega mentira nunca se va mentira la mentira mentira la verdad... todo es mentira en este mundo todo es mentira la verdad todo es mentira yo me digo todo es mentira ¿por que sera? (mentira, mentira, la mentira…) English Translation ============== what is said is a lie what is given is a lie what is done is a lie what goes is a lie (the lie....) a lie is a lie the truth is a lie what cooks below the darkness is a lie love is a lie flavor is a lie what is sent is a lie the command is a lie (lie, lie, the lie....) the sadness is a lie when the lie begins it doesn't leave (lie, lie, the lie....) the lie doesn't fade the lie isn't forgotten (lie, the lie....) when the lie arrives it doesn't leave the lie is a lie the truth is a lie everything is this world is a lie everything is a lie, that's true I tell myself that everything is a lie everything is a lie, why will it be? (lie, lie, the lie....) I have been hanging here in La Paz meeting up with rainbow heads as they pass through and out on their way... will get into the desert sooner or later... L

Wow Baja...

leonmac — Thu, 27 Nov 2008 22:11:57 GMT

...and I knew I was in Mexico, when the airport tour bus ripped us off for our short and not to the destination ride 13$. On our walk around the little Baja town, kindly local folks let us throw our heavy bags in the back of their leaf filled truck (ahhh, the smell of fresh cut leaves) and ride on the bumper to the local bus station, where courtesy, easygoing attitudes and free beer reigned... Oooh' rainbow folks going by the cafe- gotta go and make the ....connection.... L

random violence and a different kind of contact...

leonmac — Sat, 15 Nov 2008 22:35:14 GMT

I was running on the Skytrain platform yesterday to catch the train home from an intensive week of contact improv dance classes, when a man body-checked me, sending my pizza flying, but not knocking me down. I was initially surprised and couldnt see who they were, only their backs as they retreated in the crowded station. If I was checked in the other direction towards the tracks I would think they were trying to kill me, even if inadvertently. It had been a while before I had to deal with this sort of thing, it brings things back to 3rd world internal circuits, cautions against thefts, scams and other unfortunate affects of travel. The hyper vigilance re-attuned. I had been floating in my own merry juices after the contact improv that morning. Another time in the Berlin subway while waiting to exit the doors with my girlfriend, a man very deliberately knocked the glasses off my face... the random stuff just surprises me. L

Obamanation'

leonmac — Wed, 05 Nov 2008 11:22:16 GMT

This womans blog sums up some of why I reserve the right to tell most folks with election hysteria to go **** themselves... Generally being too polite or articulate to directly do so, I recommend reading this womans words. Which addresses only some of the many problems America is inheriting. TRUTH TO POWER: Why I Will Not Vote For A President In 2008 Submitted by Carolyn Baker on Fri, 02/15/2008 - 10:18am. By Carolyn Baker Four years ago, I wrote “Why I Will Not Vote In 2004” for which a number of readers thanked me profusely while another segment of readers sent scathing emails questioning how I could be so cynical and unpatriotic. My intent in writing that article was not cynicism but honest questioning and exposure of what the voting process in this nation has become in recent years. It was authentic and sprang from genuine issues I had at the time regarding the wisdom of voting in a federal election. Since then, my skepticism of the integrity of the electronic voting machine process has deepened exponentially. And since then, Bev Harris of Black Box Voting produced an HBO documentary “Hacking Democracy” which exposes the jaw-dropping abuses of the electronic voting system and calls into question the veracity of any outcomes produced by it. In fact, as recently as the New Hampshire primary, 2008, Black Box Voting and others have illumined spurious results in electronic voting in that state. Harvey Wasserman and Bob Fitrakis painstakingly researched the 2004 election and concluded in 2005 that, “The latest critical confirmation of key indicators that the election of 2004 was stolen comes in an extremely powerful, penetrating report from the Government Accountability Office that has gotten virtually no mainstream media coverage.” In 2007, Wasserman shared his irrefutable confirmation of a stolen 2004 election in an exclusive interview on Democracy Now. As I’ve frequently stated, I will never again vote in an election where I cannot use a paper ballot. For me to do otherwise, I believe, is to engage in a shell game of smoke and mirrors to which I will not sacrifice the preciousness of my right to vote in a so-called democratic republic. As for my 2004 article, the world is remarkably different than it was then, and so am I. A larger, bleaker picture has emerged since then—one which for me calls into question the very process of selecting and electing candidates in the context of empire—in a culture of fascism, genocide, greed, corruption, and ecoside. It is that larger scenario that this article addresses. For me, the first issue is the political system itself which is indistinguishable from the corporatocracy. The Democratic and Republican parties are de facto extensions of corporate America. Unless a candidate is systemically embedded in the corporatocracy, not only for the purpose of raising money, but in order to insure electability, she/he cannot succeed. Candidates from the Green Party or others such as Kucinich and Paul, are unequivocally consigned to the periphery, and while they may add fascinating nuances from the media-image perspective, they have exactly a snowball’s chance in hell of prevailing. And while I could cast my vote for one of the peripheral candidates as a moral statement, it would be meaningless in terms of affecting change. In summary, if my vote won’t make a difference, I’m not willing to cast it. Mass Trance-It Now let’s examine more closely the notion of affecting change, and let’s be painfully honest about whether the current political system in America is even remotely capable of it. If only candidates embedded in the corporatocracy have any chance of winning, what is the purpose of voting? Choosing the “lesser evil” you say? Holding one’s nose and voting? Those very expressions belie the political, moral, philosophical, and cultural sewer into which the nation has deteriorated. They also belie the magnitude of the situation, the surface of which could not even be scratched by the most uncorrupted candidate, let alone a corporate clone. You really must have a great deal of blind faith and uncritical thinking when playing in this system; in fact, you must be swimming in raging rivers of denial in order to even engage with it. But that should not surprise any of us. We live in an extraordinarily adolescent culture. The election charade that occurs every four years has been constructed by an emotionally pubescent media, creating and gratifying a puerile citizenry, which like the sixteen year-old male drooling over the prospect of owning a Hummer, cares about absolutely nothing but image. The level on which problems are even perceived, let alone addressed, is not even adolescent, it’s downright infantile. An essential aspect of childhood is fantasy, and the infantile/adolescent fantasy of America is that a corporate clone, obligated to his/her ruling elite handlers and contributors, willing to say or do anything to get elected, needing to address only a narrow spectrum of issues in order to prevail, is capable of meaningfully confronting issues such as climate change, energy depletion, population overshoot, species extinction, and global economic cataclysm. And who benefits from an infantilized citizenry? Quite simply, the street smart adolescent gang leaders with names like Bernanke, Paulson, Citigroup, and J.P. Morgan Chase. Even now, as adult economists are willing to admit the reality of global financial collapse, the home boys, Ben and Hank, are telling us there will be no recession in 2008, no doubt hoping that their prey will spend their forthcoming rebate checks (translation: hush money) on more stuff instead of paying off their debts. If I sound incensed, it’s because I am. America’s political candidates are colluding in the mass delusion—the collective trance in which a willfully ignorant citizenry is somnambulating on the edge of a precipice, and the ones who have the backing of the corporatocracy are enabling the chimera. I’m insulted by their cluelessness about the state of this planet and their inability to analyze or address any issues from the reality of ecoside—that is, the collective murder of the earth by its human inhabitants. And dear readers, please do not fill my inbox with emails telling me that ecoside isn’t really happening because climate change is a hoax not caused by humans but perpetrated by nasty tyrants in order to take away my freedom. For me, this issue is not up for debate or discussion because the earth, not you or I or any other mortals, will have the last word, and it is having it even as you read these words. What more proof does one need as a result of the performance of both political parties in the past 16 years that there is only one of them? Progressives love to rant about the “Bush crime family” yet appear unable to comprehend that the American political system is exactly as I named it in my 2006 article “Godfather Government.” Mike Ruppert said it best in “America From Freedom To Fascism” when he stated that the choice is between the Genoveses and the Gambinos with both crime families feigning vast differences between them but unequivocally joining forces the moment anything appears to threaten their collective racket. What I would ask every reader of this article to consider is: If you are planning to vote in the 2008 presidential election, what is your need to engage with that system? How is it that you believe you have a valid, authentic choice between two divergent political and philosophical positions? What keeps you tethered to the charade? It’s not important that I know your answer, but very important that you do. Local Solutions: If It Isn’t Local, It Isn’t A Solution An essential ingredient of the collective trance is that we must act nationally to address problems that candidates aren’t even talking about. In true adolescent fashion, like pubescent males who live for bigger engines, bigger rock concerts, and bigger genitalia, we still believe that issues must be addressed by a change in mass consciousness and federal programs that allow the system to continue functioning as an empire—this based on ignorance or denial that the empire is collapsing and that a Second Great Depression is about to engulf the United States and the world. Conversely, a mature, awake adult is more likely to comprehend that the imperial miscreant is crumbling into myriad pieces and that this is not something to be mourned but celebrated—that our work now as grown-ups is to take the crumbled fragment that is our local community, hold it close to our breasts, caress and cherish it, and remake it for the wellbeing of ourselves, our families, and our bioregion. In this way, we assist ourselves and our loved ones in preparing for the collapse of the larger system and in the process, make it possible to create seed communities that can truly bring forth an authentic antidote to empire. Some passionate citizens of the state of Vermont have taken this concept to the next level and have organized a Vermont Independence secession movement. I have no idea how successful they might ultimately be, nor do they, but I do know that theirs is a model that buys out of empire and into local, community-based, community-determined autonomy. Other communities across America would do well to learn from their efforts. I love it when people say, “But we need leadership.” Yes we do—our own. What we don’t need is a feel-good celebrity candidate, owned by corporations, whored by handlers, clueless about the magnitude of the issues (if even aware of what the issues are), narrowly focused on the federal system, whose only mission in life is to get and stay elected. Alternatively, we need to focus on our local bioregions, work in concert and consensus with others who see and feel as passionately about the transformation of our communities as we do, and become our own leaders and team players. Who Really Owns These Candidates? In 2007 I reviewed Daniel Estulin’s True Story of the Bildergerg Group, an expose of that group and two related monster organizations of the ruling elite, the Council on Foreign Relations and the Trilateral Commission. With control of central banks, discount rates, interest rates and gold prices, the core members of these organizations, Estulin demonstrates, have set out to loot the planet—and they are doing just that. The current mortgage crisis and ensuing global economic meltdown, as I stated in my review, is due to the stupendous success of the Big Three's strategy for planetary economic hegemony as the cacophony of their carefully engineered global economic cataclysm reverberates across America and around the world. It was never about home buyers who didn't read the fine print when taking out liar loans. It was always about silver-tongued, ruling elite politicians and financial systems which ultimately and skillfully stole and continue to steal governments from people and replace them with transnational corporations. No, I’m not making that up. One of the explicit goals of the Bilderberg Group, the Council on Foreign Relations, and the Trilateral Commision is the ultimate dissolution of nation-states to be replaced by global corporate hegemony. In addition to Estulin’s excellent expose of the Bilderberg Group, I highly recommend Trilateralism: The Trilateral Commission and Elite Planning for World Management, edited by Holly Sklar (1980) An overview of the book may be read at the Third World Traveler website. The Trilateral Task Force Report of 1977, “Toward A Renovated International System” states: The public and leaders of most countries continue to live in a mental universe which no longer exists—a world of separate nations—and have great difficulties thinking in terms of global perspectives and interdependence. Holly Sklar summarizes: “In other words: “(1) the people, governments, and economies of all nations must serve the needs of multinational banks and corporations; (2) control over economic resources spells power in modern politics (and of course, good citizens are supposed to believe as they are taught; namely, that political equality exists in Western democracies whatever the degree of economic inequality); and (3) the leaders of capitalist democracies—systems where economic control and profit, and thus political power, rest with the few—must resist movement toward a truly popular democracy. In short, trilateralism is the current attempt by ruling elites to manage both dependence and democracy—at home and abroad.” (4) What is more, every American president since the inception of the Big Three has been a member of one or more them. Both Bill and Hillary Clinton are Bilderberg members, and Barack Obama and his wife are members of the Council on Foreign Relations, Michelle Obama currently serving on the board of the Chicago Council of Global Affairs. Specifically, in regard to Obama’s foreign policy, Los Angeles writer, Juan Santos, notes: With respect to Black interests, Obama would be a silenced Black ruler: A muzzled Black emperor. A Black man at the head of the White Amerikkkan State – one who’s unwilling to speak truth to power, but more than willing, like a Condi Rice or a Colin Powell, to become that power and to launch wars of aggression against other people of color. In Obama’s case the targets will be Iran (which he has threatened with “surgical” missile strikes) and Pakistan, rather than Iraq. That’s the only difference between Obama and Rice and Powell, or Bush, for that matter. Even ABC News notes that “Obama, one of the more liberal candidates in the race, is proposing a geopolitical posture that is more aggressive than that of President Bush.” Washington Post columnist Robert Kagan, in a column entitled “Obama, the Intervensionist,” cites Obama’s claim that “he wants the American military to ‘stay on the offense, from Djibouti to Kandahar.’” To help the empire stay on the offensive, and despite the fact that US military spending is breaking the bank at over $1 trillion a year, and far outstrips the spending of any potential imperial rival, Obama wants to beef up military spending, adding 65,000 troops to the Army and 27,000 more Marines beyond the obscene levels already under arms in the so-called “War on Terror.” For further insight into the candidate who is a “master of pretending to be progressive”, see Carolyn Kay’s “He Ain’t A Saint: A Citizen’s Guide To Barack Obama”. The Life And Death Issues Eclipsed By Election Hysteria Specifically, here is what I would need from a candidate to even consider the possibility of voting for her/him: 1) Is that candidate aware of and astutely informed regarding the reality and scope of climate change? Will he in the first month in office convene a worldwide summit on the issue and enact emergency measures in the United States to address it? 2) Is the candidate aware of and astutely informed regarding Peak Oil, Peak Natural Gas, Peak Water, and the depletion of all of the earth’s substances which we have come to call “resources”? Will he in the first month in office convene a worldwide summit (in conjunction with a climate change summit) on Peak Oil and other energy depletion issues and enact emergency measures in the U.S. to address them? 3) Is the candidate aware of and astutely informed regarding the approximately 4 trillion dollars “missing” from the U.S. Treasury? Will she within the first month in office demand that Congress implement a full-scale investigation of the missing money? 4) Is the candidate aware of and astutely informed regarding the creation of the current housing bubble? Will he immediately demand a Congressional investigation of the key players in the current subprime mortgage crisis? 5) Only 16% of Americans believe the official story of 9/11. Has the candidate researched the events prior to, during, and after September 11, 2001? Will she immediately demand a Congressional investigation of September 11 in which all sessions of that investigation are open to the American public and in which all individuals who testify are under oath? 6) Did this candidate vote for the Patriot Act? In terms of the unprecedented shredding of the Constitution and the evisceration of civil liberties during the Bush II administration, is that candidate willing to demand repeal of the Patriot Act and all Executive Orders signed by George W. Bush. 7) Is the candidate fully aware of the catastrophic financial situation in the United States and the world in terms of debt, balance of trade, and fate of the dollar issues? Will he enact emergency measures to return the U.S. to a gold standard and implement a full-scale investigation of the Federal Reserve with the long-term goal of abolishing it? I know what you’re saying, “Carolyn, you’ve got to be kidding!” My point exactly: No candidate who is committed to such an agenda has a prayer of getting elected, not only because she/he is owned by the corporatocracy, but because he/she would have to tell the American people thousands of things they refuse to hear, and because they have been unwilling to hear them for the past six decades, they now find themselves on the brink of unimaginable catastrophe. I am thoroughly pessimistic that on a nationwide scale, Americans will awaken from their collective trance. I concur with Sally Erickson when she references Daniel Quinn’s statement that “there is a secret plan”, and the plan is that we are going to continue in the direction we’re going until we can’t anymore. Estrogen Euphoria Forty years ago I struggled diligently for equal rights for women—as fiercely as I fought for civil rights and against U.S. imperialism and the Vietnam War, and today I proudly call myself a feminist. That does not mean, however, that I am deluded by the assumption that if it’s female, it’s flawless. In fact, in 1996 I was moved to write a book Reclaiming The Dark Feminine in which I argued, among other things, that women can be as treacherous, driven, greedy, aggressive, corrupt, and duplicitous as any man has ever been. For this reason, I am not enamored with the notion of a female chief executive, particularly when it is clear that corporations, not presidents, govern what is left of the nations those corporations are intent on obliterating—and, when the female candidate in question is irrevocably engaged in assisting those corporations in achieving their agenda. In addition to the fact that Hillary is a member of the Bilderberg Group, her voting record speaks for itself: Voting for the Iraq War, the Patriot Act, and voting with and for corporations in the 2005 Bankruptcy Bill. In addition, Hillary’s healthcare nightmare, over which the American banking system is salivating, would create more personal debt in America by forcing people to buy health insurance. And what more need we add to her presence on the Walmart board of directors for six years which in itself speaks volumes? Yet even more egregious are the Clinton ties to Monsanto about which I posted an article on my website on February 3, “An Open Letter To Hillary Clinton” written by a Wellesley alumna and classmate of Hillary’s confronting Bill Clinton’s ties to the genetically engineered and industrialized food giant, as well as Hillary’s connections with Monsanto through her Arkansas Rose Law firm. The letter, written by Linn Cohen-Cole of Atlanta, was superbly documented and offered some of the finest research on the topic that I’ve ever read. I was aghast, however, when I received an email from a woman who opined that we should not “blame Hillary for her husband’s mistakes”, as if somehow we can discern where Bill ends and Hillary begins. Furthermore, the letter from Cohen-Cole skillfully clarifies Hillary’s specific connections to Monsanto, rather than blathering vaguely about her guilt by association. Yet this email comment is very telling in its unquestioning, naïve, almost sycophantic allegiance to Hillary the woman while disregarding the boots-on-the-ground track record of the shrewd politician who gives new meaning to the words “corporate clone.” You Have No Right To Complain If You Don’t Vote This nonsensical and frightening platitude sounds as if it might have been taken from Joseph Goebbel’s propaganda playbook. What kind of tortured logic concludes that I can only complain about a rotting political system if I play by its rules? Whoever invented this notion had undoubtedly never read the Founding Fathers who asserted in no uncertain terms that if my government has become the enemy of the Constitution, it is not only prudent, but obligatory to “alter and abolish it.” I have every right to complain about “choices” that aren’t really choices and election charades that distract my attention from issues that corporate clones dare not touch—like the 200 species that went extinct today and the million innocent citizens of Iraq who’ve died since 2003 and the unprecedented numbers of U.S. military suicides in the same period of time and the carcinogenic bovine growth hormones in my genetically engineered lunch and the guy down the street who blew his brains out over mortgage foreclosure and bankruptcy resulting from having no health insurance and the polar bears that drowned today because their ice shelves had melted away. All of this happened while the election distraction served the same purpose as mainstream media coverage of Britney Spears’ latest psychotic episode or the true confessions of yet another steroid-crazed athlete. I will complain—I will scream and rant bitch and whine, and I won’t shut up, and what I will complain most loudly about is a culture where citizens get what they settle for because they refuse to face the reality that the system is completely rigged against them, and they prolong their own agony by hanging on to the fantasy of business as usual as their empire, well into collapse, sucks the last drops of their blood and rides off into a Stage Five smog-alert sunset to rape and pillage and plunder the rest of the planet in the name of things like “democracy”, “the two-party system”, “Super Tuesday”, and let’s not forget, “the first female president.” No, I won’t be voting for a president of the United States in 2008. Should I be able to use a paper ballot, I may well vote for state and local officials in a venue where authentic choice exists. But it’s only the nasty Republicans who rig elections, right? Well, have you noticed how cozy Bill Clinton and Poppy Bush have become since Bubba left office? The mind reels imagining those intimate afternoon conversations between Bill and Poppy on Senior’s yacht. “So what’s on your mind Bill? Do you mind if I call you Bill?” “No, not at all sir. Well sir, I’ve been thinking a lot about 2008, and I know you know a lot about these things.” “Yes son, I do, and trust me, everything’s under control.” Sorry, I couldn’t help verbalizing my fantasy. It’s all so touching. Do you feel the love? And now Hillary wants to send them off together in the first few weeks of her presidency to repair the damage done around the world by Junior? It’s enough to make one feel warm and fuzzy all over, isn’t it? I think my cousin said it best when I asked if she planned to vote for a president this year. “Me vote?” she replied. “No, not when my only choices are between Satan and the devil.”

Parade of Lost Souls

leonmac — Wed, 29 Oct 2008 07:50:38 GMT

Best to write things after the flash of emotion has passed and rational can set in. So sorry for all those who were unable to attend the Parade of Lost Souls here in Vancouver, or for those who couldnt find parking (not really the way to come to such an event) or who didnt penetrate the periphery. Like a lot of things in life, one sees what one projects. The mental construct being so strong, the consensual reality, barely flexes. I was impressed with the community spirit, and the amount of individual character/effort so many put into the event the performances, the costumes, ect. I was blown away, the best turn out ever, really well attended with the weather co-operating for once, (how many shitty, cold rained out parades have I been to- you can count them if you were there...) I was gaping with a smile plastered to my face, and my head spinning with trying to see all the amazing costume, make-up and mask work. I witnessed great groups of people being quite festive, happy and celebratory. It was good to see so many dropping the superficial social walls in a loose festive mood. Not expecting anything, it raised the bar for me. Like the carfree festival, I didnt have enough time to see and get involved with everything, it was all happening at once, an aspect I also enjoy. I remember now the feelings of my youth, wishing every day could be Halloween. It was like an endless all night festival with the camaraderie and openness continuing on to house parties, sky train parties, after parties and more after parties. But I suppose its the minority that follow the party feeling through. There were so many incredible costumes, I didnt have time to see, I am glad for the photos posted on flickr, so many, like at Burning Man, with my single perspective, I couldnt see it all. Thank you Public Dreams volunteers and staff, thank you Flickr photographers, once again putting Vangroovy on the map for me. I think I am pretty happy any time the community can take back the streets from boring, auto oriented, atomized, societal norms, it lets me think there is still creative hope for us. Like the carfree fest, I pity the fools who have to be the first to re-utilize the streets despite the protests of inebriated artists and community activists. (I saw one costumed man refusing to get off the street content to lie there and do his art...). The street sweeping vehicles, cops and security cautioned everyone to the curb, for the first autosauruses of the night. Yes, you drivers- you are sucking bad Karma at that point. Still at that point, most people just werent going back to their lonely lives of social isolation or obeying basic traffic laws. God bless em'. At the, all too soon, end of the event (like the socially conservative culture we are) we cut the night events short; 'hey people, you ever been to Europe...?' Chloe paraphrase; "I think though, you might be disregarding the phenomenal amount of artistic & creative energy that DOES get put into the event from the community (more than many other festivals i've seen). Sure it's dark, and there's the feeling of danger lurking, and there's the usual stinkyfood carzombies with cellphone cameras, but there was also at least 4 different shadow puppetry groups (where else could you see that?), dozens of giant puppets, bands, not to mention weird clown activities that involved acrobatics & sweeping, and myriads of other details. The whole thing is just bursting with potential!" L

Break beat Bossa Nova

leonmac — Fri, 24 Oct 2008 22:25:05 GMT

I heard that danger comes from high above. We heard the deafening sound of hate and love. I heard that trouble comes from deep within. We only heard the sound of everything. I saw the bright light of the sun. We saw the many different shapes as one. I saw the white snow turn to dust. We saw a different brand of love and trust. I heard that music came from outer space. We had it cast upon the human race. I heard the future from afar. We heard the past, from a distant star. I saw the patterns in the sky. We saw our only chance passing by. I saw the people change to cope. We saw a distant space of love and hope. I felt a feeling from way up there. We felt vibrations, the basic snare. I felt the tender touch of the sun. We felt the many planets spinning round. I saw the shadows blow and shine. We saw the silent passing of our time. I saw the world change to greed. We rode a boat through heavy seas. Quantic Synthesia

Inconcievable rainbows

leonmac — Sat, 18 Oct 2008 10:26:04 GMT

A recent experience and I thought to commit to memory- something reaffirming although through a negative vector. I was speaking to 2 Swiss girls answering their questions giving directions and sending them south to the rainbow gathering. Ive been to so many and surround myself in this alternative bubble, that I often forget how unusual the whole experience is. Well some others at the community table wanted to know about the movement/event. Seems like I did a fine job of explaining things to them. The just couldnt believe it, so many facts were not able to penetrate their conservative American minds... it really surprised me! Here it was getting to be common-place, all this hippie, hopeful, communal, nomadic eco-living. they were incredulous! I didnt waste my breath or feel offended. But felt somehow affirmed. We are doing something akin To the impossible, the incredible! L

Is it safe to blog again...?

leonmac — Sat, 18 Oct 2008 00:38:12 GMT

And with writing things here on these stone tablets called 'tribe.net' for further generations to read... A little time here in Vangroovy for revaluations and tidying things up for the south ward spin... to beachbum environs and single minded pursuits, full of family and community. Seems like I get to inherit my old roommates karma at this temp place- I am at kicked out by next Friday. Thats o.k.- the supreme court recently ruled that it was now legal to camp in parks in B.C. Victoria's tent city being the first example, and protests still taking place on the lawn of Vancouvers city hall. Victoria's mayor even temporarily rescinding the by-law that tents had to be up between 7am 9pm... Dont mind the stigma Canada, get used to it. As one activist pointed out, so many of us will be living as refugees, first as economic and secondly as environmental refugees, third (hopefully not) as war refugees... L

out of high speed high tech...

leonmac — Sun, 21 Sep 2008 05:05:22 GMT

Just mellowing here at the Hotsprings, luxuriating at the slowness vivid dreams and sleeping under the stars. Eating well, hiking, yoga, testing the depths, and re-affirming my values. Another side of me comes out here, you wouldnt believe it. The Leon with nothing to say, who keeps his mouth shut, who listens more, meditation and humility. Blah blah I dont need to toodle my horn, but it surprises me too. I wake up with gratitude; not just for nudism, hotsprings, carrot juice and avant gard movies but simple nature, peace and quite... Sorry for the late updates of photos, yes I got them, but I havnt ben connected to the higher tech of interweb space. More like pay per minute dial-up on a 'P-3' with limited public features. Still I think of all of you. And yes, too bad about tribe.net I recomend Facebook- seriously see about me there...we could even chat. If I can just get that blog feature set up, I will be satisfied with it. L

Whirlwind tour

leonmac — Thu, 11 Sep 2008 22:51:45 GMT

First to Shambhala, the Sanctuary (Grand Forks) Lesquiti Island contact Jam, jump to Black rock city for Burning Man. Hitched up here to Harbin Hotsprings, had a narrow miss on the highway hitching, as I made eye contact with one of the cars they thought to pull over across 2 lanes of highway, smashing into an on-coming truck, minor injuries, but I couldnt shake the feeling that I had helped cause it... Soon off to Earth dance California, it will seem pale in comparison compared to Burning man, I know... L

Shambala

leonmac — Fri, 08 Aug 2008 03:31:06 GMT

looks like I should head up to Shambhala and rendezvous with those of you who said they would like to meet... See you there. I also want to recommend this 'Sanctuary" site outside of GrandForks B.C. for just the most serene time... Miller rd, Just off Grandby Rd... L