No Zen Radio

Garbage Bears are Zen

Compared to other people, we have no problems.

We are not dying of cancer.

We have not been ordered to our deaths on suicide missions by inept leaders.

We are not being round up and shot by extremists.

We are not being tortured with power tools by Ba'th separatists.

We are not poking holes in alkali soil looking for water and food.

We have not been written off by the federal government.

We have not been unjustly convicted and sentenced.

We have life and the right to live it.

We could be Zen masters.

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Stress is ruining my life.

Lucky for me I can take out my frustrations on our current political situation.

Lucky me.

Rah.

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Evolutionarily speaking, given the ubiquity of misery it must be a necessary component of survival. If misery wasn't useful, it would have been mutated out of the gene pool by now.

No one has the market cornered on misery. We've all got it to some degree. While there are depression experts among us who have mastered the art while under doctor's care and powerful drugs, most of us practice amateur misery, intermixing it with occasional mirth.

We are not pure. But we are many.

I have known naturally happy people in my life. They tend to be very successful in their endeavors. The analysis is simple: you get more things done and endure tribulations better if you can remain happy. It seems unfair that some people are naturally cheery, given there may be a body chemistry basis to where someone is on the misery/mirth spectrum. But physics doesn't develop by or respond to parameters like "happy" or "unfair".

So we have to live with it.

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Mind control is unnecessary. Polls are unnecessary.

These days everyone has a blog and I wonder if we can consider it a phenomenon of monumental importance that you can find the thoughts of millions of people simply by perusing the internet. We tell everyone what we're thinking. We are a marketing service's wet dream. A pollster's joy. A therapist's nightmare.

Due to our on-line confessions we have given up our opportunity to run for any public office.

Or maybe not. Compared to accidentally getting America into a war, my worst social faux pas is strictly a Care Bears level problem.

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Yesterday I had to go out in the dark of the night. I was in my Jeep. As I drove down my street a bear crossed my path.

There are bear icons all over Juneau. Stuffed bears. Bears carved from tree stumps. Bear talisman painted by the native Alaskans in that cool northwestern graphic arts style that existed before white people invented graphic arts.

Previously, I had to go see the bears. There are a couple bears at Mendenhall glacier near the visitor's center. They hang out entertaining tourists and locals who follow their every move, moving back and forth across bridges and footpaths the way tennis fans lock eyes onto the hurtling ball at Wimbledon.

These bears-at-the-glacier are wild in that the theory is nobody feeds them and they are free to maul whomever they choose. However, they are inured to photo flashes and video cameras and the continuous "ooh" and "aah" of the crowd. They come back year after year to put on their wildlife show. The older male bear is called "Hollywood" by the faithful, and he has met riverrun face to face. The baby bear is now 2+ years old, but is still in danger of being killed by his father, so he keeps a wide berth. Momma bear has ceased keeping a close eye on the baby. She's off pursuing a career as a featured artist on Wild Kingdom.

The bear I saw was much more wild than the bears-at-the-glacier (not to be confused with "glacier bears", which are a particular breed of bear). When I mentioned to the kids at work (yes, I work with a lot of kids) that I saw a bear last night, they said, "Oh, it must have been a garbage bear."

My first truly wild bear, and it's a garbage bear. Unphotographable. Unremarkable. About three times the size of a golden retriever. Yes, capable of killing a grown man, but being killed by a garbage bear would be tantamount to being run over by a two-year old who accidentally hits the gearshift in mommy's running car.

Not a bear who's going to take down a caribou for dinner, or even fish for salmon. But rather, a bear who's going to lick clean your cast off tinfoil TV-dinner plates. A bear who's going to eat your moldy leftovers. A bear not worthy of being labeled by any legitimate Latin term.

Ursus odoriferous.

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I used to write about sex. Sex is on the minds of a lot of untroubled people. It was on my mind back then, back before I had to worry about everything. Sex is a life-affirming activity. No one having sex is miserable. Everyone having sex is lucky.

Once I had sex with a woman who looked at the sky in the middle of all of it raised her arms and shouted, "Yippie!"

"What the hell was that?" I said, figuring grunting and moaning were the appropriate aphorisms of sexual approval.

"Wah hoo!"

"Wah hoo?"

"WAH HOO!"

It was one of the happiest things I'd ever seen while incarnated in human form.

The good thing about something like that is being able to remember it when it's rainy and blue in your head. You can remind yourself it's a good world. It's a good life. People love you. There is love to be got and love to be given.

Yippie.

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Then this gets into my head. The Bush Presidency. The Anti-sex. Anti-fun. Anti-goodness. How can anyone who hates as many people as our president smile so much?

Or is it just me. Maybe they're reasonable guys. Maybe it's all in my head. We're not sending under equipped soldiers to Iraq to fight an ill-defined war. It's a dream. It's a J.K. Rowling episode. It's going to end with wizards and spells.

My hands are writing what I can't stop thinking --

How do elected officials get away with it? I heard it said, yesterday, that the Vice President claimed he never expected there would be such an insurgency in Iraq - as if to say - I didn't think we would be getting into an actual "War" over there.

And yet he is aggressive and forceful. The people he speaks to are sheep. They cower when he opens his mouth to spew his lies and conundrums. I dislike him as much as I dislike those who oppose him while they back themselves into corners, shielding their faces like frightened children. The Democrats do not deserve to beat these beasts. They're right about one thing: the war on terror requires we adopt some new methodology. To beat the Republican zealots we will have to counterattack with equal viciousness, lovelessness, fanatic stupidity, and hatred. They will understand nothing less and there is no one with backbone in the Democratic party.

I am coming to the conclusion that only Republicans can beat the neocons. And that may be the strategy they're developing - distance themselves from Bush so that the party can live on despite the incompetence of these despot wannabes. I don't care. If I have to, I will support a Republican. I will vote for John McCain. I will absolutely vote for Rudy Giuliani. Unless the Democratic party puts up someone with enough guts to stand up and say: It is only a degenerate who feels the morals of civilized men need further "definition" Make no mistake, there is no confusion - I will hold sacred the Geneva Convention - I will hold sacred due process - I will hold sacred the tenets upon which this nation was formed - Unless someone with guts and the ability to back it up runs against this demonic juggernaut who hides behind the Bible I will campaign for a Republican who can wipe out the neocon scourge.

They've won, and we're all idiots.

Surely, this is not the first lying administration. Surely, this is not the first administration that has argued we need to torture prisoners of war and increase surveillance of our citizens and further break down the carefully erected barriers between international and domestic intelligence agencies. Surely, this is not the first administration that has suggested due process of law does not apply to those we select and label enemy combatants. Surely this is not the first administration to accuse its critics of treason.

Or is it?

How is it that it hurts so much with these people?

I should have more sex. Think less politics. Smile. Be happy.



Yippie.



wahhoo