Pieta Brown

Saw her show last week at the Lobero ..very hypnotic

Gone

Laura calls from Austin and tells me her truck has just been repossessed. I rack my brains trying to think of what I can do to help, but the best I can come up with is .. “let me see what I can do.” Guess she’s heard that often enough because she says “ ..that means you aren't going to do anything” ..and hangs up pissed. Well, that’s disturbing news ..I feel my heart racing and my mind spinning. I’m frantically trying to find a way to help, but keep coming up short. Perhaps I should make a few phone calls and get some advice. I figure this probably isn’t the best time to do that, so ..I grab my fins and head for the shore ..the words “aren't going to do anything” still ringing in my ears. The water is calm and classy, again ..like yesterday. Offshore conditions have definitely prevailed. I swim vigorously, then relax and float. My heart has stopped racing and my mind has stopped spinning. I still hear the words “aren't going to do anything” circling my head ..but at much longer intervals. I still haven’t figured out what to do ..but at least I’m not taking it out on myself anymore. Hopefully clarity will prevail.

Almost summer

I take my hands off the keyboard ..push away from the computer ..walk across campus and slide down a dirt trail to Leadbetter beach, where I drop my pack and plunge into the water. Conditions are clear and glassy, so I take a few strokes then roll over on my back and float. I hear sea lions barking. Out of the corner of my eye I see surfers lined up at the point. Overhead, pelicans pass in formation, circle and then dive bomb for fish. I get off my back and cheer at them for that ..prehistoric creatures that they are. I track them, hoping to see their diving act again, when they disappear into a fog bank and I’m like ..wtf. Where did that come from. I can’t hear the sea lions anymore. I guess this isn't an offshore day. Those won’t be here for another week or so. October is when summer really begins around here ..at least for me anyway.

Vipassana

Today’s episode: I feel drowsy. Now I feel tension from trying to maintain the proper posture ..noticing the tension persist until it passes. Now I feel tension mounting from resisting the pressure to move ..hearing my inner narrative asking me if it wouldn’t be better to get up and do something else ..hearing myself respond by saying that it’s OK to just sit here for a while. I notice judgments made: “wouldn’t it better” and “it’s OK”. Letting the narrative flow until it vanishes. Now I notice the sound of cars swooshing by outside ..and hear myself remark how noisy they are ..then immediately notice the judgment “..how noisy they are”. Congratulating myself for making the catch. Wondering if it’s really something worth congratulating myself for. Letting these reactions fade until they vanish. I hear the sound of swooshing cars again ..except this time they remind me of something somebody once told me ..passing cars are a good way to observe the passage of time. Now I hear voices coming from the canyon and I try to make out what they’re saying ..but it’s too tedious so I just let them pass by as indecipherable noise. Actually sounds less bothersome that way.

Namaste everyone ..

A most lucid explanation

If I understand what he’s saying correctly ..the current economic crises can be traced back to the Reagan Administration. In 1980 they deregulated the Savings and Loan industry ..which put the business of making home loans in the hands of amateurs. Then, in 1987 ..the Reagan Administration had to bail out the Savings and Loan industry when it collapsed under the weight of it’s own incompetence (and unbridled greed). The Federal government allowed the Savings and Loans to package questionable loans, and sell them as stocks ..or mortgage-backed securities. It was mortgage-backed securities that helped make the housing slump of 2006–2007 ..go global in 2008 ..and wipe out investment houses from Bear Stearns to Deutsche Industriebank

Oral transmission in post-apocalypse sects

Savannah ..! Finn ..! look.It's him. I finded him ..It's Captain Walker.
-What's his talk?
-He ain't made any wordstuff.
-It's a long track. Maybe he's burned out.
-Maybe.
-Maybe he's just listening.
-Walker? Hello?
-Maybe he's talking, but we ain't hearing.
-You see ..his lips ain't moving.
-Not with wordstuff, but maybe with sonic.
-This is Delta-Fox-X-Ray. Can you hear me? Delta-Fox-X-Ray. Come in. Is anybody out there? Can you read me, Walker? What's up, Doc? Can you hear me?

Yeah, I can hear your ..who are you?
-Quiet!
-Shut up!
-Enough!
Who are you?
-We are the waiting ones.
Waiting for what?
-Waiting for you.
And who am I?
-I think he be testing us .. this a testing, Walker? …you reckon we been slack?
I don't know ..maybe you've been slack.
-We ain't ..we kept it straight. It's all there. Everything marked ..everything 'membered. You wait, you'll see. This you knows. I be First Tracker. Times past count I done the Tell. But it weren't me that tumbled Walker. It was Savannah. So it's only right that she tell the Tell.
This ain't one body's story. It's the story of us all. We got it mouth-to-mouth. You got to listen it and 'member. 'Cause what you hears today ..you got to tell the birthed tomorrow.
I'm looking behind us now. ..across the count of time . .down the long haul, into history back. In the end what were the start. It's Pox-Eclipse, full of pain! And out of it we were birthed ..from crackling dust and fearsome time. It were full-on winter ..and Mr. Dead chasing them all. But one he couldn't catch. That were Captain Walker.
He gathers up a gang, takes to the air and flies to the sky! So they left their homes,said bidey-bye to the high-scrapers . .and what were left of the knowing, they left behind. Some say the wind just stoppered. Others reckon it were a gang called Turbulence. And after the wreck, some had been jumped by Mr. Dead . .but some had got the luck,and it leads them here. One look and they's got the hots for it. They word it "Planet Earth. " "We don't need the knowing.We can live here. "
Time counts and keeps counting.They gets missing what they had. They get so lonely for the high-scrapers and the video. And they does the pictures so they'd 'member all the knowing that they lost.
'Member this?
-Tomorrow-morrow Land!
'Member this?
-The River of Light!
'Member this?
-Skyraft!
'Member this?>
-Captain Walker!
'Member this?
-Mrs. Walker!
Then Captain Walker picked them of an age and good for a long haul. They counted twenty, and that were them. The great leaving. The rescue party departed at first light ..led by Flight Captain. Walker. "May God have mercy on our souls. " They said bidey-bye to them what they'd birthed.And from the nothing ..they looked back ..and Captain Walker hollered:
"Wait, one of us will come."
"Wait, one of us will come."
And somebody did come. .Walker! We's heartful to you, Captain Walker. We's ready now.
That ain't me ..you got the wrong guy.
-Quit joshing!
-Catch the wind.
-We got to see Tomorrow-morrow Land!
-Home! Tomorrow-morrow Land!
There were places like these.Cities. They were called cities.They had lots of knowing. They had skyscrapers ..videos and they had the sonic.Then this happened. This Pox-Eclipse happened, and it's finished. It isn't there anymore. You got to understand that this is home.And there ain’t no tomorrow Land ..and I ain't Captain Walker.
This is it!We's loaded and waiting, Captain. We got the wind up our arse, Captain. Let's go!Who's coming? We's pulling a leaving.
There ain't gonna be no leavings. All that's just jerking time.We's working it different. Ain't you seen nothing? He couldn't catch the wind. There weren't no skyrafting. There won't be no salvage-shun. This is our Tomorrow-morrow Land. He's proof of that.
Programmed! All of you programmed. If he ain't Captain Walker, who is he? He ain't no different to us. He slogged it on foot. If he can get here, we can get back.He ain't much bigger than us. Copilot did it. So why can't we? That's the trick of it. Who's coming? Across the nothing? Don't you 'member? When you finded him, he were half jumped by Mr. Dead. Nobody's saying it ain't a hard slog. If we wants the knowing, it ain't an easy ride.
Look ..! There ain't no knowing! There ain't no skyraft and no sonic. You slog out there to nothing! Worse than nothing. The first place you'll find is a sleaze pit called Bartertown. If the earth doesn't swallow you up,that place will.
Don't listen to im ..! He's got wordstuff out his ass! Whoever's got the juice, track with us.
Now listen good! I'm not Captain Walker. I'm the guy who keeps Mr. Dead in his pocket. I say we're gonna stay here. And we'll live a long time and we'll be thankful. Right?
Yeah right .. whoever's got the juice, track with us.

Smashing brain cells

I’m sitting here shivering on a beach near Refugio around sunset ..and wondering why Hurricane Jimena never delivered the 5-foot waves it promised. I’m not terribly disappointed though. I’m OK just sitting here feeling composed. Watching the water. Looking back. I believe that riding waves in my early days instilled confidence that has persisted throughout my life. And transferred to a lot of other things. It’s helped me ride out broken relationships ..negotiate tricky business deals ..and basically overcome a lot of the major fuck-ups of adult life. I’m not saying that I’m a perfect example of a self-assured human being or anything. Far from it. But I do believe that a small measure of mastery early in life goes a long way toward helping people weather storms later in life. For me, I’d say it was summers spent riding waves at sunrise in Newport ..catching the ferry at noon ..riding waves at Laguna until sunset ..then crashing campsites in San Clemente till dawn. It made me realize that waves aren’t just something I ride ..they’re cycles of energy I follow. They pick me up in the morning, heightening my senses ..and hurl me down slopes of fluid exhilaration ..refreshing my mind and deconstructing any networks of negative thought I may have built up since last time. It is most therapeutic. I have a profound reverence for the dynamics of the ocean and, by extension, a high regard for the forces of nature ..the nature of people and, in some small and inexplicably visceral way ..the dynamics of the universe at large. That’s probably saying a lot, I know, but sitting here with my feet buried in the sand and watching sunrays shoot across the water .. I’m not sure I care a whole heck of a lot.

Altered states

Notes from Cuzco, Peru ~ April 1977

On the slopes of the Andes, in a yurt overlooking a sage-green valley, I’m participating in a peyote ceremony that has taken place here for over 1,000 years. I’m collecting data for my senior thesis: ‘The neurological basis of hallucinations’. However, none of my faculty advisers know I’m here, and if they did ..they would probably deny any involvement. I’m here because I want to experience, first hand, the psychological effects of a guided peyote session the way it’s practiced by South American Indians ..and not for purposes of recreation the way I used to. I have a theory that human nature follows a cycle; it fluctuates between the need for ‘order and stability’ ..followed by the need for ‘exploration and rebellion’ against order and stability. I arrived at this theory from reading books by Aldous Huxley, as well as personal experience. I’m hardly able to sustain a committed relationship for more than a few months. Anyway, I believe that early Indian cultures had less destructive ways to deal with this cycle that didn’t involve excessive alcohol, domestic violence or broken homes. The peyote ceremony is, in a sense, a ‘guided’ exploration into altered states of consciousness ..followed by a gentle period of ‘re-entry’ that allows participants to integrate their extra-ordinary experiences with the ordinary reality of everyday life. It satisfies the need for exploration in a way that is far less disruptive, and way more conducive, to the well being of the individual and the tribe.

The session: Our Guide is waving a rope of burning incense (intended to awaken our senses). A drum beats softly (intended to strengthen our bond to the present). Tea is poured and cups passed ceremoniously between participants sitting cross-legged around a low bronze table. The simple act of sharing also helps bring us back to the present. I feel grounded and eager to see what happens next. After a wave of nausea ..images of my early childhood begin to appear, one after another, leaving me clutching at something for security (later I find my shirt lying bunched-up and wet on the floor beside me). Our Guide gently reminds us to watch these images flow until they vanish. Now I hear someone playing a flute. Sounds soothing. Now I feel alternating sensations of tea and mango juice splash down my throat. Sweet and refreshing. I pass the plate from one grinning face to another. Now I’m grinning too. Now it looks like I’m sitting between two huge grinning masks ..suspended in space. One of them starts laughing ..then another ..and another ..until the yurt is rocking with waves of laughter. I feel my grip loosening, and worries, stretching back as far as I can remember ..lift like fog. I feel euphoric.

Re-entry: I’m listening to our guide give instructions for re-entry. It goes something like this:

“As you return, imagine a river flowing softly ..its power comes from yielding. As you return, remember the watercourse way ..choose harmony as you go. As you return, remember the watercourse way ..the soft quality of harmony will overcome the hard barriers in your way. Remember, follow the watercourse way …the watercourse way …the watercourse way ..” 

and I could hardly forget. I could still hear these words echoing in my head for weeks afterward while I finished writing my thesis and submitting it for a round of grueling final arguments. I think the echoes helped. Either that or my inquisitors just caved.

The resulting academic screed can be viewed here ~>[SeñorThesis]

Slipstream

There’s a stream running through my head. I sit and watch it go by ~ one instance after another. When I try to push it ~ or tweak it ~ I disperse it. Now I’ve got several streams running through my head. I see images of my father holding me on his knee ~ a warm sensation comes over me ~ Jisho Perry stops by ~ but says he can’t stay for tea ~ my neighbor Don appears telling me it’s going to be a good day ~ and I believe it ~ I see images of Big Sur smoldering after another fire and I start to feel anxious. Now I’m trying to peek at instances that haven’t arrived yet. I hear Jisho's voice gently reminding me that I’m leaning forward too far ~ but it’s too late ~ I’m tumbling head over heels ~ hoping I’ll land someplace soft. I’m lying on my back soaked in sweat when Dr. Jones leans over and says I gotta’ get a grip ~ I'm having an out-of-sequence experience. Now I’m behind the wheel of an automobile and I see signs warning ‘curva peligrosa’ ~ I swerve to avoid them when sirens start to wail. Police cars roar by like a freight train. I creep along the shoulder until I come to an off-ramp and disappear down side streets.

Self medication

I’ve learned through experience that delusions, brought on by capricious mental activity, are best left ignored. Like passing clouds, there’s not one worth hanging on to (see post titled Head case below). There’s a practice I learned called ‘grounding’ that I find valuable. It helps me disengage from delusional thinking by anchoring to something in my immediate surroundings. The goal is to bring myself out of the grips of a delusion, or an intrusive memory, by way of the senses. Anytime symptoms come on, whatever form they may take ..it’s a good time to practice this exercise. I start by looking at five things nearby and begin naming them ..being specific and detailed. For example, I see my dog and say: “ ..shaggy brown hair and wet nose ..” or “..black computer speakers with silver lettering” and so on. Next, I name five things I hear, like the humming of a fan or the whoosh of passing cars, and so forth. Then I name five things I feel by sense of touch, like the jeans against my legs; the soles of my feet on the ground, and so on. I concentrate on sensing things the way they actually are ..careful not to replace them with the way I think they should be. I repeat the whole process a couple of times ..earning extra points if I become so wrapped up in my senses that I lose count. The idea is to make delusions disperse and fade into the background like the meaningless noise that they are.

Microsoft's grip

In response to an article in the LA Times ~~>Microsoft’s grip

I don’t think dispensing with “backward compatibility” will do Microsoft any harm; these days you don't find many vendors releasing software that runs on anything earlier than Windows 2000. They (the Times) got it right though, cloud computing will loosen Microsoft’s grip. Microsoft doesn't have a record of success developing applications for the Internet. They tried to be a player with the Vista operating system, but people are sufficiently dissatisfied with it that they’d rather reload Windows XP even if it means losing all the bogus Internet features of Vista. Then, on top of that , they generally switch from Microsoft’s Internet explorer to the more reliable Firefox browser by Mozilla (formerly Netscape ..which they thought they'd buried). I’m not sure Microsoft with ever have the Internet presence of companies like Google or Yahoo.

Payroll

Click on image to enlarge ..

Susan Tedeschi

She comes on stage ..smiles and asks how everyone’s doing ..then goes into her set, starting with a song called ‘Wait for me’. By the third song .. ‘Talking about’ ..I’m on my feet. I look behind me out of fear of being rude ..but everyone else is on their feet too ..which gives me license to rock-out ..which continues to be one of the most well-honed skills I acquired as a teenager. It continues this way throughout the show and I can’t help but think that this is what it would sound like if Bonnie Raitt fronted the Allman Brothers Band in their heyday. On the third, and final encore ..she’s slows it down and does a John Prine song called ‘Angel from Montgomery’ ..a real long and sweet version (see below). However, part way through the song, she’s still singing the melody ..but the words from another song. They sound awfully familiar when it dawns on me that she’s paying an unexpected tribute to Jerry Garcia. My eyes suddenly fill with tears. Without missing a beat she sings: “there’s one thing I ask of you .. just one thing for me ..please don't say you knew me too ..my darling Sugaree” ..then back to Prine .. “ ‘cuz believing in this living is a hard thing to do ... so make me an angel that flies from Montgomery” ..when the song is over, tears are running down my cheeks ..and I’m hoping no one turns around and asks me anything because my throat is all choked up too.

In Pluto's defense

Admittedly, Pluto is a fringe dweller. It orbits at the outer-most edge of the solar system. Lately, however ..it’s been seen passing in and out of mainstream consciousness .. like the punks and the freaks we see in high school. Now, we may diss’ Pluto, and even question it’s right to exist as a planet ..but we can’t deny its presence. It’s there ..way out there ..twisted and possibly trans-gender .. but definitely there. And it’s not alone. It travels with a swarming pack of fellow Plutinos and other planetoids we still haven’t been able to identify. We know one of its peers is Neptune ..or what the early Vedic Seers called Varuna ..the goddess of the oceans. Another companion is Tau ..or what the local tribesmen call Quaoar .. a formless, genderless force that brought into existence some of the cosmic beings we know as Father Sky, Mother Earth and Grandfather Sun. I’d say Pluto lives in a pretty respectable neighborhood. I wouldn’t dismiss it as a backwater space entity any longer.

Grand Junction

Written in response to an article in the LA Times ~~> microcosm

I wonder how the patient-doctor ratio in Grand Junction compares with Los Angeles. I suspect it’s lower, meaning there are more doctors to go around. That’s probably why they are able to collectively agree on a pricing strategy that benefits all. One of the major factors contributing to healthcare costs in this country is a shortage of doctors. Medical schools don’t admit and graduate a sufficient supply, even though there are more than enough qualified candidates. I believe they do this purposely in order to keep the profession lucrative.

Indian springs

My friend tells me
how the forest stretching,
as far as the eye can see,
resonates with primeval memories
from a time when earth’s realm
was plentiful
and it’s bounty
inexhaustible
generous and free.
He says this was the reign
of the tranquil lapis lazuli

I pay homage
to the contributions
my ancestors made
and the healing powers
of these mineral springs
and the treasures friendship brings.

High above

High above
on a switch back trail.
Drinking ice cold glacier ale.
There’s a half frozen lake
at twelve thousand feet
with smooth boulders to sit on
in a cathedral of jagged peaks.
The sky falls into shape.
Water rises up
to fill the space
and lap the shore
rising and falling
always full
always finding
a level of it’s own.
In a place so simple and pure
shards of bitter memory
form on my tongue
I spit them out and think
Those are what make things taste
so complicated and unclean.

North West Passage

The ice age is melting and the Arctic is turning into water. On some days temperatures can hover around 70 degrees fahrenheit ..turning ice shelves into tropical zones. For me, this conjures up images of smooth sailing, sunbathing on sandy beaches and swimming in emerald lagoons. But I’m a fucking idealist who needs to see things the way they are. What this really means is greater opportunity for fortune-seekers looking for trade routes to China. What is now home to Eskimos, who still hunt whales and live in igloos ..is about to become an international trade zone ..occupied by oil barons ..land developers ..and casino operators. I have the feeling we are looking at the next wild frontier. Now I picture myself sailing through the North West Passage like it was California during the gold rush ..shooting polar bears instead of buffaloes.

Breathing exercise

A simple breathing exercise for someone experiencing a flashback or a seizure due to post-traumatic-stress. It is meant to draw you away from the what’s going on inside your head and bring you back to the present moment by way of the breath. It is a good way to begin ‘grounding exercises’ most excellently described in the blog ‘PTSD and Me’ [link]

• Place your hand lightly on top of your stomach like a float.
• Breathe in slowly and deeeply ~ follow the breath ~ feel your stomach rise. Say out loud: “Breathing in ..rising.”
• Hold your breath ~ feel the pressure of the air in your stomach and chest. Repeat: “Holding my breath ..holding my breath”
• Breathe out slowly and loudly through your mouth ~ feel the breath leaving your throat and mouth ~ feel your stomach go down ~ listen to the sound of the breath leaving your mouth. Say: “Breathing out ..breathing out ..letting go ..letting go.”
• Experience a brief moment of stillness between breaths. Say: “Being still”.
• Breathe in and repeat the breathing process again for five to ten minutes.

Fiesta weekend

I’m hanging out with Jim and Diane on the sidewalk in front of Peets Coffee and Tea .. watching the historic parade (el desfile historico). A band of wild mustangs charge up the street like galloping banshees ..terrifying the kids on the curb in front of us. They're followed by a sign that says “adopt a horse program.” I go, yeah right .. and take a shot of commemorativo. Golden palominos, with silver saddles, strut by like they own the place. Another shot of commemorativo. Peruvian horses scurry by even though it looks like they’re galloping in place. I wonder if it’s the commemorativo. The kids laugh. I take another shot. The next group of horses look like midgets .. I ask Jim what commemorativo is. A cross between agave and mescal ..he says. I'm like ..no way. A herd of fire-breathing dragons, with flaring nostrils and hoofs as big as houses, comes tearing up the street ..scaring the daylights out of me. The kids laugh and Jim looks at me like “I told you so.”

Weekend anarchists

I run into a couple of girls who don’t look much older than eighteen, sitting on the wall outside of Trader Joes. They’ve got flowers in their hair and packs on their back. Nicole and Ellie. I ask them where they’re heading and they tell me they're unsure. Nicole explains how they are ‘anarchists’ ..and they’re going wherever that may lead. She certainly makes a well-articulated case. So, I ask them where they’ve been. Oh, San Francisco ..San Jose ..Monterey Bay. So I go “Heading south, are you?” (thinking ..what an obvious question) Nicole goes “Yep”. I tell them I think north is preferable (not to mention safer) than LA. They shrug. I tell them about places where they can camp in the woods around Santa Cruz and Big Sur. They were just there. When I mention the community of Esalen; Nicole says they found refuge there after she hurt her foot while hiking down a trail to the beach. In addition to being anarchists, they’re licensed massage therapists ..and were able to stay for a couple of days, giving massages in exchange for food and lodging (Esalen, among other things, is known for their massage program). How cool, I say ..bartering is certainly an anarchist thing to do. They didn’t want to stay there much longer however ..it was way too institutional for them. Ellie begins pacing ..then walks into Trader Joes. I continue talking with Nicole .. keeping my eye on Ellie as she strolls down the aisles, filling the pockets of her sweater with supplies. When I see that she’s about to leave without paying ..I go inside and convince her that putting it on a stranger’s America Express would definitely be an anarchist thing to do. Back outside, I give them directions to an ‘exchange’ where they can connect with rides. If that fails; there’s a well-lit youth hostel ..even a woman’s shelter, where they can safely spend the night ..moves that, I explain, are about as anarchist as any they’ll find. I think they agree and we part company. Now I’m wondering about them, stepping into the unknown, while I carefully fold clothes and put away groceries at home.

Traffic jam

I wake up with badly congested information-channels ~ I see shifting patterns of different colors entering an open window ~ and watch the walls dissolve into orange dots before they reach the ceiling. I sit up and swing my feet over the edge of a pillowy sensation I can comfortably rely on as my bed ~ but now the floor has dropped out of sight. I count the number of times this has happened before and figure the odds of landing with both feet on the floor are in my favor. I decide to play it safe ~ take one step at a time ~ stopping frequently to make sure I am where I’m accustomed to be, and not where I appear to be, because I know my senses are deceiving me. Downstairs, scattered waves of light travel in every direction ~ except through the channels of my visual receptors. I find something likely to be my CD player and punch it in the vicinity of the on/off switch. A punk rock CD, left in there from the night before, starts to blare. The light waves begin bouncing to the rhythm, and, like little drops of colored water ~ they enter into the proper channels and float down streams of sensory-energy ~ until they fall into pools of stored-memory ~ and form the image of what I’m supposed to see. Like adjusting the focus of a camera lens ~ it all becomes clear. I drop to my knees and pay homage to the deities of music ~ then crank up the volume and go in the kitchen to prepare myself a thermos of coffee. Looks like it’s going to be a good day.

Fear of stem cells

Written in response to an article in today's LA Times ~~>[link]

In general, I am not in favor of passing laws that block harmless activities simply because there’s a ‘possibility’ they may lead to more dangerous, and rightfully unlawful activities later on. That’s why I am definitely against banning stem-cell research, which has very real potential for doing good, out of fear of the unlikely event they lead to something you read about in science fiction magazines. I prefer that we set the boundary a little closer to the heinous outcome we fear, than to block genuine advances in medical science. Blocking progress in relieving human suffering would be the real crime here.

Medical marijuana

Written in response to an article in today's LA Times ~~>[link]

There have not been enough controlled studies of marijuana to make definitive claims about its harmful effects. The study, that you (the LATimes) report, cites evidence of tissue-loss in areas of the brain that, among other things, play a role in learning and memory. However, there is no mention of test results showing that memory-loss had, in fact, occurred. Without better information, reports chronicling the overall effects of marijuana can, at best, only suggest the possibility of harmful effects. Because marijuana is still classified as a controlled substance, it is not approved for medical research. As a result, there is still going to be a lot more smoke out there than science.

The case against Sotomayor

In hundreds of cases that Sotomayor has decided; no one has found that she was either racially or ethnically biased. So now Republicans are taking a less-informed approach and saying that what she did in the past is not a good indication of what she’ll do in the future. Republican Senator Jeff Sessions says that her past record has no bearing on how she’ll do because the cases she decided are not like the one’s that the Supreme Court decides. Instead, they think a better indication of how she’ll do is that one remark she made about ‘wise Latinas’ ..as though this instance is representative of all instances ..and proves that her decision-making has been, and always will be ..‘experienced-based and biased’. I’m sorry, but what this tells me about our Republican leaders is that their judgment making is seriously flawed. Apparently, their horizon only goes as far as people who agree with Roberts, Scalia, Thomas and Alito ..or Rush Limbaugh.