Something about a report for the Pentagon going back almost nine years on global warming as the nation's top security threat ... 

Sure, sure: Who would you rather believe or listen to, people who are rooting for the end of the world as we know it, or, people who are progressive and trying to build another so called "American Century"? But not much is going to happen if we have to count rebuilding after a storm as a statistic for growth. 

~ 

Of course, of course ... We need to get out of this rattle chamber of fear certain segments of the media sell to keep us restless and on edge. But the weather is changing. 

Sure as shit.

The last presidential
debate in real time

By Douglas McDaniel

Just as the debate began at 6 p.m. Arizona time, it is noticed that "Adele gives birth" is trending ahead of the presidential debate, and now we have just learned from good sources that Adele is a British pop star ... and you were more interested in Monday Night Football, weren't you?
Anyway, here's what this reviewer may or may not have heard ... a little adult attention deficit disorder or low blood sugar at dinner about all of this right at the start ... it's in Florida, so we can't blame the altitude: Did President Barack Obama let slip, instead of "Governor Romney" ... "General Romney"?
Maybe so ... Romney seems to think he's running against Woodrow Wilson. Obama chides the GOP candidate for being a little out of tune in terms of what's available now, in terms of modern weaponry, with a reference to "horses and bayonets."
Need to fact-check this later.
Another note: "Dear Mitt: How would you take advantage, politically speaking, to the famed World War I sea conflict known historically as the Battle of Jutland?"
There Romney goes with that bulgy forehead puppy dog face again. Must be something like what a porcupine does when in self-defense mode. He must be praying in there somewhere to himself ... We feel his pain. His voice is dry. Cracking. Must have talked himself silly already today. The Republican challenger is sounding very Porky Pig-esque tonight.
Was that new birth for Adele a boy or a girl? Hmmmm ... Get the research department on this, quick!
7:07 p.m., Arizona time, which is Pacific time, for all of you trend following folks out there ...
Romney is gulping, licking lips, but it's clear, he's definitely upped his geopolitical game, soaring past Sarah Palin now!
7:15 p.m. (whatever time)
These problems of empire create rocks in the talking head. Need to shave.
7:20 p.m. (Arizona has no daylight savings time)
More puppy dog face-isms from Romney ... Obama has the stage now and Romney seems to be the one napping now. Is he asleep or something? Where is the Great Interrupter? Is he, as Bob Dylan might sing, if he were an IRS agent, "invisible, with no secrets now to reveal ... tangled up in blues"?
Research editor: Make sure we get the Youtube.com link for this.
Just a few minutes later, Romney, hater of all birds, big or small, chirping defensive about the president's "attacking me."
This is a debate, right?
Blah, blah, blah (insert quote here later about whatever he's supposed to be saying). Wondering if Adele is okay, and who is winning on Monday Night Football.
Still more puppy dog face from Romney. Feel like this is one of those sad, pitiful commercials for the Humane Society ...
Almost done shaving ... Obama smiling bigger, great dental plan, he must have always had, than that Joe Biden cat.
7:29 p.m., whatever time
... Moisturizing now ... Well, at least Romney is convinced, after seeming to agree on all foreign policy issues with Obama, that he's "excited about the future." Aren't we all. Sounds like all of the Middle East is one big bad nuclear-armed powder keg like pre-war Europe before World War I. Maybe Romney has a point, or, you know, a bayonet.
Romney takes another pot-shot at Greece, birthplace of Plato's great study, "The Republic." He sure does have it in for those guys. Make note for further fact-checking: Get research on the location of Greece.
7:30 p.m., as the sun sinks on the empire, Arizona time ...
The debate is over. Somebody made it all stop. Thank our talking heads on TV now for not making it all stop more. There they go!
President Obama is embraced by wife Michelle with a gentle, loving hug. Same for Ann Romney, but the body language and actual style of the activity seems to be quite different, if only because she is taking the wannabe leader of the free world by the shoulders, as if to both shake him awake and console him, as if to say, telepathically, "Well, there's always that ski trip to the Alps."
As the sun sets on the for the most part English speaking empire here in the West of the North America, we watch as Romney's little blonde grandchild reach out to be held by the actual leader of the free world, Barack Obama. So innocent. So sweet. Nice looking kid. He might make a presidential candidate someday, or a become a ski instructor or a competition bicyclist in the Tour De France when he grows up.
Yep, that kid really is reaching for Obama, until he's whisked away, off-stage now, screaming.
We feel his pain.

Blues Jerusalem

I

All is unwell at the well

where the barking birds

whistle and five dollars

may as well be five hundred

Drums whisper, the gentle

lilting flute falls on deaf ears;

the Cadillac blues band

is just too damn loud

Listeners can only hear

the deep down out and proud

of patio chairs as the damn

breaks at the wanderlust dusk

Ten years after we exchanged

a white shirt for black,

the barkers are back

and we scream into night

II

All is quite well at the well ...

all is well, well, well

and the contrasts

in the gloaming,

so stark, form rainbows

gleaming from bed bug eyes,

young bucks, fresh faces

as the last boat is loaded

and pointed toward

an imagined meridian line:

Thank sweet Jesus we didn't

cross the continent

in a Mussolini time

III

Cadillac Angels, Route 66,

Heritage Square, five-o-eight p.m.,

the next to last day of autocratic August ...

stand up bass, white shirt, cowboy hat,

sunlight, a bit bright, sunglasses, dark,

as the drum circles behind me

at the first well drilled in Flagstaff

percolate into the overculture

of red rocks rock-a-billy

celebrating the gasohaulic furies

of people who cannot let go ...

O, to whatever

hearing I have left,

praise thee ...

IV

Look here, in the cold air,

off-peak hours, the cinder

is soft, a softened crown

to the demons all drowned

as the stratus clouds

of shielded sun

requires some place

purposeful to be

and as she sleeps

beneath the cover

of dirty bed bug blankets

the heartbeat pulse

of Bob Marley

never rests

~ Douglas McDaniel
Mythville, America

In Memory of Sharon Shuteran

Met her once at the end
and beginning of a solar cycle,
and now I'm humble, in awe
at the news of her passing.
It was thirteen years ago.
Her vehicle had slipped
off of the ice between
Ridgway and Colona.
I had just arrived
on the accident scene
from New England,
in a white truck after
hitching a ride to T-ride
from a well-loved Ute leader
who seemed to know everyone
in Montrose and my phone
worked and hers didn't
and she said she was thankful
for the rescue and it seemed
so ironic then that a judge,
under those circumstances
was thanking scrambled brain me,
who at the time, needed more rescue
than I could ever explain:
Though I tried. She thought me odd.
Later, after the Chocolate Lover's fling,
we spoke again, but never after that.
But she tolerated me, kindly,
and I thank her for that.
Can't imagine why events
take us so young,
at fifty eight,
in Baja, California
while doing what we love:
Tender consolations,
to all of the Telluriders
who are able to pass
while on international
adventures because
that's what we always say.
Humble, in the mystery
of her passing, at the ending
of yet another sun cycle ...
Humble in the thought
of how difficult it must
have been to be
a judge in a small town,
a fish bowl, where you can
walk down the street and meet,
you know, the accused, damned,
and so on ... humble
in the beauty of someone
you never spoke to again,
because I was odd then,
I'm different now,
so was she, must be ... but I
remember, every now and then,
we'd pass each other,
and we'd sort of just
acknowledge the passing,
and in acknowledging her
passing now, I am quaking,
in deep sorrow that more
wasn't spoken
between now and then ...

American Mythville opens new e-book wing at the Douglas McDaniel Hopefully Not Memorial Library

 

Douglas McDaniel

Publisher

Mythville On-Demand/Advocate Interactive 

mythville@gmail.com

Greetings from Mythville, America!

In Iowa, they called him E.T.