Mother Earth and Her Lifes Blood

Okay, I woke up this morning with this overwhelming thought........What if that huge oil leak in the Gulf is one of the main arteries of Mother Earth?.......... Maybe that is one of the main factors that keeps earths interior cool and lubed. Somewhat like the blood that flows through our veins. After all, oil of the earth is there for a reason. Maybe the oil is Earth's Life Source!

So, in theory......if this IS a Main Artery and it can't be stopped what happens? Typically if a human bleeds out they die. Are we on our way to our own demise? All because of Power and Greed? No one knows for sure what we are really-really doing to this earth and if we dig far enough and deep enough we just may be digging our own graves all because of our Incredible Arrogance! ..................

Earth is a very Beautiful and Spiritual place. My God! We are so lucky to even be here and she has been Gracious enough to share ALL of her Bounties with us. We have given back and shared so little in return...............

Dumped Pets.....

You know what really really gets me ANGRY!...................

Well, I live in the country and it is so sad to see pets, especially dogs get dumped "in the country". These so called pet lovers that do this aught to have their heads examined. Number one they probably think the romantic notion that someone will see their dog and pick it up and give it a great wonderful home and it will live happily ever after. Well folks that just doesn't work that way.

Generally this is what happens to wonderful Rover when he gets dumped.

This poor dog has no idea where he is, gets terrified and wants to find home. The odds of someone picking him up let alone and being able to catch a scared dog is not very likely. These country roads are full of speeding cars and trucks and if your dog isn't traffic savvy......guess what? He will get hit. If he is lucky he will be instantly killed. Otherwise he will lay there and probably die an ugly agonizing death. If he is traffic savvy great.......but he will probably starve to death as a domestic dog has no idea how to hunt for food. If he is smart enough to hunt for food and wonders into a pasture full of livestock and starts the chase.....guess what?.... the land owner will probably shoot and kill the dog. Better the dog than his livestock so they say.

So if he survives all of this without a scratch......guess what? He has to deal with the mighty hunter, the coyote. These guys are very cunning and sly. It doesn't matter if your dog is bigger and more fierce. The coyote is a pack animal and dogs are also on their menu and that again is not a pretty death.

So to all of you folks out there debating whether or not to set you beloved pet free in the country and finding a live happily ever after home, think again. Your dog would be a lot better off in a shelter. He would definitely have a better chance at surviving there and finding a loving home.

Sure, there are people who live in the country who would love to take your dog if they could. That is how we found one of our dogs. She was only 3 months old when she wondered into our yard STARVING, TERRIFIED and EXHAUSTED. She was one of the lucky ones. Oh yes, we also adopted our other dog from a shelter.

Both dogs have been the best dogs we have ever owned.

Oh yeah, the same applies to your wonderful fluffy little kitty.....

LANDFILLUS - INTERRUPTUS

This is not going to be pretty. Having recently been asked by the Volcano to review an installation or "Body Of Work" created by a local, but stubbornly anonymous, "Artist" and placed (or misplaced) on the Middle Floor at Sanford and Son, I submit to you, the reader, the following; In the form of advice:

Stay Home. Don't Go. It Sucks.

Now, I realize that the sacred cow/naked emporer format that somehow has always passed for "Art" in the cultural desert of Tacoma has been notoriously bleak, seedy, shallow, confusing, childish, kinky, desperate, wanton and especially, narcissistic. This "showing" however, takes the cake. While I'm thinking of it, let me also just say this: As Reviewer, I should be able to say anything I feel about it-why? Because the "Artist" has chosen to hide his/her identity. Therefore I can be as vitriolic as my honesty and good taste dictate.

What on earth is this person's obsession with Breasts? I assume it's some guy who was improperly weaned that compiled this assault on the senses, as well as motherhood. If it wasn't done by a dude deeply scarred by malfunctioning nipples in his early years, then it had to have been done by a raging alcoholic militant local lesbian; of which we have plenty around here - (not that there's anything wrong with that.)

Knockers. Mostly Doorknockers. That's what we're supposed to believe the majority of the "Pieces" are. As I was able to ascertain from what few of the sober, yet shadowy, figures flitting about in the Sanford and Son building, all of the elements and materials used in the comprising of these "Works" were once destined for the Landfill. "Found Objects" all, they were somehow intercepted by our anonoperson and assembled into what I was forced to visually, as well as manually, masticate. (You are invited to knock the Knockers), we've got Backdoor Knockers, Frontdoor Knockers, No Soliciting Knockers, Dead Doorknockers, Knicker Knockers, Peeping Voyeuress Knockers and my favorite: The Deerknocker; a mangy old dead deer head shot eighty years ago by either Jerry Meeker or Jerry Springer - I forget - and mounted on an 1890's Gothic door stolen from the old church in Ruston. Now, that might actually be art, but I'm not sure I know anymore, as I've been desensitized.

I have this to say to he/she who slithers around amid the mental chaos and moral turmoil that oozes from every crack and corner down at Sanford and Son perpetrating upon the unsuspecting and innocent eyes of the general populace of Greater Tacoma: Step forward admit what you have done and apologize, then finish what you started by taking your "Body Of Whatever -It -Is" to where it belongs - The yawning jaws of the Pierce County Landfill.

Other that that, I only have two words to say: "Re" and "Hab." If anyone wants to talk to me, I'll be at Meconi's Pub, slumped over a glass of Bud Lite, sobbing.

A. G. is the author of Blah Blah and typed by someone anonymous.....Blah-Blah