Saturday, July 22, 2006

Condi Flying on Her Broom to the Middle East

First off, a tip of the hat to both PTCruiser and Thepoetryman for submitting articles to the this week . We are rolling and getting the website set up more and more every week! Please come visit and share your thoughts!

In other news, Condi Rice
is postponing her trip to the Middle East to allow Israel time to break up some of Hezbollah's power.

Translation: kill more innocents, wreak more havoc, instill fear in the civilian population as well as Hezbollah. She's waiting, knowing more will be murdered while she sits this out for a few days.

She also wants to give Israel time to demonstrate to all of its neighbors that a well-armed and dedicated group like Hezbollah is no military match for Israel.

They want to make it plain to Syria and Iran what will happen to them if they ever get involved in a war, either by proxy or directly, with Israel.

How do I know all this? I read her blog! And you can too! Yes, as I have revealed previously, Condigrrrl has a blog! And notice in he blog pic that she truly has vampire fangs!!!

Want to read her blog entries? Go to:

Alas, Condi has not been very good at making friends on MySpace. Now we know why. Shes a murdering vampire witch on a broom.

Friday, July 21, 2006

O Lebanon!

This post is dedicated to all the innocents dying and harmed in Lebanon at this time, the victims of Israeli aggression. An entire country should not be shelled for the actions of one group, Hezbollah.

Khalil Gibran
, author of the Prophet, is without doubt the most famous of all Lebanese writers. Born in the 1883, he grew up in a poor household. When his father was imprisoned for fraud, his mother raised the children. When his father was released from of prison, she decided to emigrate to the U.S.

Gibran's father didn't want to go, so she took the kids and went by herslf. What an independent soul she must have been.

She made her living as a peddler. In Lebanon, Khalil had no education and could not read or write. In the States, he went to school and became known for his fiery essays and art.

At the end of World War I, the Treaty of Versailles partitioned the old Ottoman Empire, and placed Lebanon and Syria under the protectorate of France. After Syria and Lebanon achieved independence in 1943, both countries gradually came to accept their roles as separate national identities: Syria as the heart of pan-Arab nationalism and Lebanon as independent and sovereign but within the Arab world.

Three generations ago, Kahlil Gibran wrote a simple verse with the repeating line "you have your Lebanon, I have mine." In it, Gibran chided the politicians of his day who defined Lebanon by their intrigue and their vain boastings. To Gibran the real Lebanon was its prophets and poets, its beauty and the vitality of its daily life. He died in 1931 without seeing his homeland gain its freedom.

It is still a good read.

You Have Your Lebanon and I Have My Lebanon
(written after the first World War, in the 1920's)

You have your Lebanon and its dilemma. I have my Lebanon and its beauty. Your Lebanon is an arena for men from the West and men from the East.

My Lebanon is a flock of birds fluttering in the early morning as shepherds lead their sheep into the meadow and rising in the evening as farmers return from their fields and vineyards.

You have your Lebanon and its people. I have my Lebanon and its people.

Yours are those whose souls were born in the hospitals of the West; they are as ship without rudder or sail upon a raging sea.... They are strong and eloquent among themselves but weak and dumb among Europeans.

They are brave, the liberators and the reformers, but only in their own area. But they are cowards, always led backwards by the Europeans. They are those who croak like frogs boasting that they have rid themselves of their ancient, tyrannical enemy, but the truth of the matter is that this tyrannical enemy still hides within their own souls. They are the slaves for whom time had exchanged rusty chains for shiny ones so that they thought themselves free. (I love this line-Glenda) These are the children of your Lebanon. Is there anyone among them who represents the strength of the towering rocks of Lebanon, the purity of its water or the fragrance of its air? Who among them vouchsafes to say, "When I die I leave my country little better than when I was born"?

Who among them dare to say, "My life was a drop of blood in the veins of Lebanon, a tear in her eyes or a smile upon her lips"?

Those are the children of your Lebanon. They are, in your estimation, great; but insignificant in my estimation.

Let me tell you who are the children of my Lebanon.

They are farmers who would turn the fallow field into garden and grove.

They are the shepherds who lead their flocks through the valleys to be fattened for your table meat and your woolens.

They are the vine-pressers who press the grape to wine and boil it to syrup.

They are the parents who tend the nurseries, the mothers who spin the silken yarn.

They are the husbands who harvest the wheat and the wives who gather the sheaves.

They are the builders, the potters, the weavers and the bell-casters.

They are the poets who pour their souls in new cups.

They are those who migrate with nothing but courage in their hearts and strength in their arms but who return with wealth in their hands and a wreath of glory upon their heads.

They are the victorious wherever they go and loved and respected wherever they settle.

They are the ones born in huts but who died in palaces of learning.

These are the children of Lebanon; they are the lamps that cannot be snuffed by the wind and the salt which remains unspoiled through the ages.

They are the ones who are steadily moving toward perfection, beauty, and truth.

What will remain of your Lebanon after a century? Tell me! Except bragging, lying and stupidity? Do you expect the ages to keep in its memory the traces of deceit and cheating and hypocrisy? Do you think the atmosphere will preserve in its pockets the shadows of death and the stench of graves?

Do you believe life will accept a patched garment for a dress? Verily, I say to you that an olive plant in the hills of Lebanon will outlast all of your deeds and your works; that the wooden plow pulled by the oxen in the crannies of Lebanon is nobler than your dreams and aspirations.

I say to you, while the conscience of time listened to me, that the songs of a maiden collecting herbs in the valleys of Lebanon will outlast all the uttering of the most exalted prattler among you. I say to you that you are achieving nothing. If you knew that you are accomplishing nothing, I would feel sorry for you, but you know it not.

You have your Lebanon and I have my Lebanon.

Wednesday, July 19, 2006


I was driving to work this morning, thinking about the turmoil that is rolling across the middle east like a large grass fire, and listening to an old song, "California" being sung by Joni Mitchell.

"....Sitting in a park in Paris, France
Reading the news and it sure looks bad
They won't give peace a chance
That was just a dream some of us had ......"

I started think about where I was as a young high school student when that song came out, and still, they still won't give peace a chance.

But I will not give up the dream, no matter how dark it looks in the world, no matter how cruelly people and nations treat each other.....will you? Because if we give up the dream, what do we have left?

So sing on, write on, keep breathing, chant, fight for truth and justice, because some days, it just doesn't come easy.

Tuesday, July 18, 2006

My Strength Is Not for Hurting

Check out part of the cool ad campaign by Men Can Stop Rape!

Working to end sexual violence- It's not just for women anymore!