Abbie Hoffman

I recently learned about director/producer Robert Greenwald who has made several documentaries about America, its government, and big corporations like Blackwater and Wal-Mart.

After Googling Greenwald's name, I found a documentary he produced called, "Steal This Movie." It is about the life and untimely death of political activist Abbie Hoffman. Not only is it brilliant in its portrayal of the characters, but its historical accurateness shines clear and bright. After watching this film, I was prompted to Google Hoffman to learn more about his life. He wrote several books and pamphlets and produced songs and movies about the truth of American Democracy. You can learn more about him here however Wikipedia is not the most credible source.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Abbie_Hoffman#Suicide

This comes to me in a time when my roots have been shaken, their very foundation has been ripped apart by the devastation of such an unjustifiable, wasteful, pathetic, and no less ridiculous war.

When I think back, I wonder who, how, and when my political flame was ignited. I believe it was during the 1998 election between Dole and Clinton. I remember immediately siding with Dole because my dad liked him. But after I heard some disturbing news about him, that of which I have no recollection, I changed my mind and sided with my mom. From there, years passed until the tragedy at Columbine which prompted film maker and activist Michael Moore to write, direct, and produce the documentary, "Bowling for Columbine." It was at that moment, which one specifically I can not recall, that I realized something was very wrong. Not only was something wrong with the education system, in which we're taught that America is the beautiful, the great, and is the concerned, compassionate friend next door who is just sticking up for those too weak to defend themselves. No, there is far more wrong than just that.

My step- uncle Tom has told me: "You don't want to know the truth. Because once you know it, you realize there's nothing to be done about it. And that is the worst thing of all, to know that you're being wronged and the very people who are wronging you are preventing you from stopping it. Much like the old joke, 'stop hitting yourself...'" At which point he takes my arm and makes my hand hit my face and says, "stop hitting yourself". Although he may appear to be fucked up in the head, which is what my mom says, there is a lot of honesty and fact behind his words. And there is also a father in that man, one who prevents me from finding out what he has found. And perhaps that truth is what has driven him to insanity. Much like the great mathematicians of our time.

All in all I believe that knowledge is power and that no matter what the truth may hold, no matter how disgusting or repulsive, how painful or hurtful, it is still the truth. What that truth is I still don't know... I know bits and pieces, thanks to bros like Noam Chomsky, Robert Greenwald, and Michael Moore. There is a blanket of fiction that covers the U.S. which was realized most recently and importantly by those who grew up in the late 60s and participated in riots and rallies against the Vietnam War and against the government who tried so hard to keep them quite and out of sight. Us liberals, us "leftists" are the red- headed step children, the black sheep, the skeletons in the closet, we are the United States of America's dirty little secret. Or puchina. LOL. So I ask myself, where are these peeps from the 60s? They must have vanished or been brain washed or don't speak or vote because I am certain, I am convinced, that if they are still the same people now they were then, or if even just a thread of that person remains in who they are today, we would be in a better spot. We wouldn't be in this war and we wouldn't have this administration... or would we? Because as people grow up, their motivations and responsibilities change and with that, so do their political views. What disturbs me, something that brought me back to reality was this: "... Jerry Rubin, Hoffman's co-founder of the Yippies, by then a businessman. As The New York Times reported: "Indeed, most of the mourners who attended the formal memorial at Temple Emanuel here were more yuppie than yippie and there were more rep ties than ripped jeans among the crowd…."

They're all gone. They've been taken over by droids. They're zombies. No wait, they're our parents and grandparents. They've given up. What a fucking devastating realization that is.

To watch the movie about Hoffman:

http://video.google.com/videoplay?docid=-5858962939917432628&q=ROBERT+GREENWALD&ei=THcXSM2nMJ784AL_j8zuBg&hl=en

Robert Greenwald:

http://www.robertgreenwald.org/

Unconstitutional- The War on Our Civil Liberties: http://video.google.com/videoplay?docid=3105519703637733227&q=ROBERT+GREENWALD&ei=rK0YSJSAAZ-w4QLQ5-jvBg&hl=en

Iraq For Sale: http://video.google.com/videoplay?docid=-6621486727392146155&q=ROBERT+GREENWALD&ei=xa0YSJr8J56m4QLAv7ntBg&hl=en

He addresses Congress: http://video.google.com/videoplay?docid=-8706830704103212226&q=ROBERT+GREENWALD&ei=xa0YSJr8J56m4QLAv7ntBg&hl=en

Michael Moore:

http://www.michaelmoore.com/

Noam Chomsky:
http://www.chomsky.info/articles.htm

Food

Chocolate milk is pretty damn delicious. It is one of those things that's unique and can't be duplicated or reproduced synthetically into a flavor such as for a bubble gum or a sucker. It takes two great things and marries them, a perfect match for my taste buds and tummy.

There are these chicken chimichanga things at King Soopers that are amazing. I can't even describe them but as unreasonable as it may sound, they taste as if you had just ordered it from an authentic Mexican food restaurant. They leave your house filled with the aroma of peppers and onions which is pretty damn delicious smelling.

Cadbury's Dairy Chocolate Milk Chocolate bars are quite the compliment to the above mention chocolate milk.

Wheels and Cheese, which is made by Michaelina's or something is more filling and tasty than you would think. Cheap too!

Carr's Rosemary Crackers are possible the most flavorful cracker I've ever consumed. You could put anything on these and it would taste wonderful! Well, except maybe peanut butter.

There is a Thai restaurant that Clarice, Jon, and I went to. Mmmm curry. Mmmmmmmmm.

But really the best thing of all, although it may not be the ideal midnight snack, nor is it available fresh at such an hour, is Chipotle.

Jon and I were browsing on the internet and he wanted to show me Cthulhu... he's a sea monster who lives at the gates of hell or something... H.P Lovecraft.

Anyway, we found this while searching for images. How cute!!! ^_^



And then I found this:



I want it. I will buy it. On EBay. For $29.00. It's so adorably evil! I can barely take it!!! Nihaha

24

[pardon the camera phone]

100th Post

Jon and I met for lunch today. We bought our tickets for the Telluride Bluegrass Festival on Friday so we were only bound to discuss the details of the trip. It is something distant to look forward to and take pleasure in planning. It's in the middle of summer and going with a group of friends only excites me even more.

We discussed school and our majors and went round and round debating a suitable one for me. I compared careers to my taste in men- inconsistent, ridiculous, and nearly free of any actual potential.

This lead to our newly coined term "fillers", a word which not only describes but almost entirely disrespects nearly ever lover he or I have ever had. In our defense they have been important if not just for the simple fact that they relieve some of that unrest in our lives but often times there is more gained such as fond memories or new experiences. The unfortunate side is that we are fully aware of the flaws that riddle these poor people and even worse is the thought in the back of our mind we know the relationship will expire. And although his love for Emily is something to be noted it should also be pointed out the dysfunction that consumes every moment and lie and manipulation that he is exposed to. The thought that such love consumes him almost disturbs me but there are times when I find in him something resembling myself. It's found in his eyes or smile, every reaction to her is extreme and passionate. If love is a drug, which I learned about recently, some of us have a serious problem. We've become slaves to a chemical, something in our minds that is so superficial that it removes any seriousness love ever had. If loving someone is as ridiculous as a mere chemical released in reaction to the thought of someone, well then who cares about love? The fact that I can obtain the same exact reaction from smoking or running or drinking makes me realize that there is no point in love at all. It's comforting to know that all of those feelings don't account for much. These individuals just managed to tickle my brain in the right place... how hilarious. And finally, I come to a quote spoken by the most intelligent man alive today, "If we choose, we can live in a world of comforting illusion." All that love is is an illusion and although this may seem simple and childish, it makes me giggle at the thought of how utterly useless it all is.

https://www.hado.net/watercrystals/index.php

http://www.whatthebleep.com

You're the darkest burning star... you're my perfect disease

There isn't anything as beautiful, anything as monumental, nothing as pure or important as the moment that one becomes thankful they were born to accomplish some unspoken greatness. I found this morning, at 5:23 to be exact, that I felt just this. As I thought of Jon and Clarice and all of the rest of the people I consider my friends, I could not have been more thankful. Then after much self evaluation I realized that finally I have fallen in love with someone... someone who is the most the beautiful, the most entertaining, the most intelligent... myself. There is a fine line between vanity and reality, I think I have reached that line and my feet appear to be dead center with it. I am destined to love those around me. I am here to bring happiness to them, to hold them in their deepest moments of despair, to scoop them up and brush the filth from their wings. It was my dear friend Jon who made me see this truth. It was in his words, in the language of his body, that I was able to see exactly who I am. And because of this new seen reality, I know that I shant settle any longer. I refuse to settle for loving the idea of a man who does not exist. He is nothing more than the faintness that breath leaves behind on mornings like this. He is nothing to me. No birthday wishes, no matter how lovely they are spoken, can be true and free of hate or disgust or egotistical motivations. While my heart sank and my knees gave way to a weight I didn't realize I had, there was nothing there. It was as if he had been a used transparency, one that the teacher had scribbled on so many times it appeared gray. But suddenly, as if my presence was water, the transparency had been washed clean, and I could see right through it. It's pathetic motivations, it's pompous and self serving eyes. I still picture your face and the way you used to taste but only in dreams of you for the reality of who you appear to be is faded and bitter. Appearance is everything.