Patrick Stew...er...Kennewick Man

Because of the Kennewick Man case, Rep. Doc Hastings has introduced legislation that further strengthens scientific claims to indigenous remains at the expense of indigenous rights to have our ancestors graves NOT raped.

ALLEGATIONS OF SCIENCE

So here, I will give a brief history of the alleged science of archaeology as well as the history of the Kennewick Man case with some details often left out of the major media.

Archaeology started out in the U.S. in the 1800's as a science called "phrenology," the study of human skulls. The idea was to prove the superiority of the white race over all others by studying the size and shapes of skulls but especially the super sized brain capacity of white folks over the rest of us inferior races. It didn't quite work out, but eventually evolved into the alleged science currently called "archaeology."

Another great archaeological discovery that is commonly accepted deals with demographics. After years of reducing the numbers of the pre-Columbian populations, a scientist by the name of Kroeber in the early 1900's came to the conclusion that there were less than a million Indians in North America in 1492. How did he come to this commonly accepted conclusion amongst scientists today? [The official number has been raised to around 2 million only because of the protestations of indigenous folks.] Because he said there simply could not have been more than a million here in 1492. That's it. No crunching of numbers. No sustainability studies. In fact, no studies at all. It was simply concluded by a white man with a Ph.D. and therefore it must be true. I have a book around the house here somewhere that states the official number at around 980,000 and is very specific, like 982,236. If I could find it, I would give the exact number, but it is pretty odd how they came to such a SPECIFIC number. Scientists! I tell ya! [You can read further details about the alleged science behind the demographics in, "A Little Matter of Genocide," by Ward Churchill.]

"SITE REPORT! WE DON'T NEED NO STINKING SITE REPORT"

Fast forward to the 1996. A couple of audience members at a boat race on the Columbia near Kennewick, Washington find a skull. After the race the notified the authorities and along comes James Chatters, the man who proclaims himself the discoverer of Kennewick Man.

After removing at least one set of remains, Chatters went to the Corps of Engineers for a permit, and was issued a permit retroactively...A FELONY. The permit process usually involves a 30 day grace period in which burial sites are looked up in a secret ledger (to prevent "pot humters" from stealing indigenous ancestral remains). Then, if it is a reasonable request, it is presented to the tribes of the area for approval. NONE OF THIS WAS DONE!

Chatters dug up at least 5 other sets of remains, three beyond the pervue of his illegal permit, each counting as a felony. Some of these remains, known graves of around 200 years old, were in close proximity to the Kennewick Man remains which were found on or near the banks of the Columbia.

I'm sure you've all seen pictures or even dramatic portrayals of an archaeological dig. The site gets gridded. Many details are presented. Everything is carefully dug and catalogued for future evidence. Many photos and drawings are made. The site is carefully dug up. All of this is presented to the proper authorities by REQUIREMENTS of the issuance of an archaeological permit. The report that is presented is called a "site report." Should this report not be made, it is a FELONY! Alleged scientist James Chatters has NEVER to this day presented a site report as required by his illegal permit.

RADIO-CARBON DATING

Chatters found a stone point too old to be stuck in a leg bone of his find. It seemed too old of a style, so he had his illegal find radio-carbon dated. The results came back as 9300 years old. Now here is the tricky part, and folks who believe in science like a religion get angry at me when I bring up the fact that NO SCIENCE WAS DONE AT THE SITE.

There is supposed to be evidence that would help in supporting a radio-carbon dating report. This evidence would come from the site report, showing which layers of earth the bones came from, placement, other cultural implements, etc. But there is no site report. There is no evidence that is supposed to be gathered at the site that supports the radio-carbon dating range.

According to I believe "Scientific American" and quoted in Vine Deloria, Jr.'s excellent work on the fallacy of the alleged science of archaeology, "Red Earth, White Lies," radio-carbon dating is highly inaccurate. It did things like date a freshly killed seal at 600 years and a living tree at some 10,000 years. Why did this happen? Because when there are higher levels of carbon and or radiation present within the site, the dating process can be thrown off. Now here is an interesting point. The bones were near the surface of the earth. The site was near the banks of the Columbia River where there was a boat race going on. A boat race where carbon is shot out the tail pipes of gas engines. The site is also down river from a leaky nuclear reservation known as Hanford. There were, obviously, higher levels of carbon and radiation at the site.

According to David Liberty, co-host of "Mitakuye Oyasin" radio program on KBOO and former Ph.D. candidate in archaeology/anthropology at the University of Oregon studying under Bonnichsen, lead alleged scientist in the Kennewick Man case, if Chatters was a smoker and handled those bones with his bare hands, that would have thrown off the radio-carbon dating. Besides, "there is no real way to 'prove' radio-carbon dating as accurate." [David resigned his Ph.D. candidacy during the Kennewick Man case because of the racism involved.]

Armed with this information, I confronted Chatters at a lecture he gave on the book he wrote about what a great alleged scientist he is for stumbling across Kennewick Man. I asked him about the accuracy of radio-carbon dating. It is "highly accurate," he told me. How does he know this? Why, he is a white man with a Ph.D., and the words flowed from his lips, therefore, it must be true.

KENNEWICK MAN WAS [NOT] WHITE

Now James, using his great scientific mind, came initially to the conclusion that Kennewick Man was not indigenous considering ONLY the shape and size of the skull. So, AGAIN, using his great scientific mind, he came to the initial conclusion that Kennewick Man was white. What scientific method did he use to come to this conclusion? He was watching "Star Trek: Next Generation," saw Patrick Stewart, and realized, "there's my Kennewick Man." I wish I was kidding.

Thus began the long and drwan out argument that Kennewick Man was white and that the Indians who were "here second" thus slaughtered out their far superior white brothers and originally stole the land from whitey. Ask the Asatru Folk Assembly, they'll tell ya.

In my opinion, all of this happens for a reason, but I will discuss that at the end of this post.

In a discussion with David Liberty on "Mitakuye Oyasin," I cornered him on the subject of phrenology and the racism of the alleged science of archaeology. David told me a few rather interesting facts, again not brought up in the scientific community. In order to have a specific scientifically based study on the race of skulls, one has to have a rather large amount of skulls to come to any form of conclusion. The amount seems to be lacking in this case.

As well, David gave me a rather interesting statement, one that I quote frequently: "The skull shape and size varies more within the group than within the groups." In other words, there will be a greater variance in skull shape and size amongst the Umatilla Indians than say, amongst the Umatilla, Navajo, Mohawk, Blacks, Whites, Jews, etc. Think about it, folks.

DOC HASTINGS CREATES A NEW LAW

Recently, Rep. Doc Hastings has introduced legislation that will give a stronger grip to scientists right to study the remains of our ancestors while not making them give them back to the folks they rightly belong to. This, of course, based on the Kennewick Man case which is a pretty piss poor case of alleged science if you ask me. Why do you think that would be? Money?

There is a lot of grant money being tossed about in academia. Thousands, sometimes hudnreds of thousands of dollars change hands so folks like, say, Bonnichsen can make a study on the remains of an indigenous ancestor using some seriously faulted science and breaking many laws already in place.

Not to mention that this sort of thing can turn on some seriously sexy co-eds to professors who like them "young and ...." and probably couldn't get a date any other way.

THE COLLUSION CONCLUSION

As we have all learned about the media recently, they have a way of, say, NOT REALLY DOING THEIR JOB. As you may have noticed if you followed any of this case that there is no investigation by reporters into such issues as the felonious lack of a site-report. Nor is there any investigation into the alleged science of archaeology. Why do you think that is?

Well, IN MY OPINION, The U.S. government knows that it is guilty of the crime of genocide, as well as many other crimes against indigenous folks, that it must justify its actions by using what is commonly accepted as scientific fact.

So, white men with Ph.D.'s declare that Indians have only been here between 11,000 and 26,000 years (the 26...added only by political pressure, not scientific fact). They have declared that Indians are immigrants, and therefore, this somehow makes it PC to have committed genocide to steal their land for the wealth of white folks.

Now, since reporters REFUSE to do their job and investigate this case, as they are not SUPPOSED to upset the status quo, an alleged congressman has now introduced legislation that will again help white men in their dominance of indigenous folks.

My suggestion to you all, since reporters who are paid to do investigation but don't because they are more concerned with their career than upsetting the status quo, that you all do a little research yourself. You will see that this type of racist behavior even using science is quite common in the United States. You may just start to question everything these folks do, even alleged scientists. And the status quo can't have that! It may just start to upset their status quo!

Hey Rox, Remember When...

Hey Rox... Remember when we were kids and we'd hear the weather report that their was possibly going to be snow the next day. We would be excited by the prospect of missing a day or two or MORE of school, not so much because we hated school but because the snow days were so much fun... OK... School wasn't all that much fun either, but some of it was cool.

And then we'd be looking out the windows all night but not see anything. We'd go to bed and wake up all night and look out the windows...only to be disappointed that it still wasn't snowing and we'd complain about the prospects of actually having to go to school...

And then, around 5am, we'd wake up...AND IT WAS SNOWING! Then we'd listen to dad's clock radio and wait to hear whether or not our school was closed. We'd listen intently as district after district, school closure after school closure were announced...AND THEN...OURS!

We'd go back to sleep with visions of no school, snow angels, snow ball fights, snow folks, etc...and then wake up and have fun!

Today, work sent me out to McMinnville. It wasn't so bad until I hit Sherwood, and then it was nothing but ice. The day was very intense for me, but I made it through OK. I saw four wrecks and one abandoned car, but all was basically well.

So I took a few pictures and thought about the good old days of missing school when it snowed. McMinnville, however, only opened two hours late. Poor disappointed kiddoes (I assume they were disappointed).

Still, seems there was fun to be had, and folks having it.

Another Genocidal Criminal Gets Away

The photos I wanted to post here I have been unable to find. They are of the invasion of East Timor by the Philippines in 1975. One is of soldiers with the heads of East Timorese which they severed and took a few trophy photos. The other was more horrifying to me. It was of the paratroopers being launched out of a plane. I couldn't find any of them on the internet, so I won't be posting any photos, especially of Suharto.

On Democracy Now, January 28, 2008, Amy Goodman did an in depth special on this whore to the U.S. empire and genocidal criminal who passed away with military honors, living a long and successful life, and having been responsible, I heard on the show, of some 1,000,000 lives not to mention the oppression of millions more.

Suharto's name goes down with other genocidal criminals who lived long and successful lives without ever facing prosecution: Richard Milhouse Nixon, Ronald Reagan, etc. I, for one loud mouthed asshole, fail to appreciate such things.

Here are the names of some of the genocidal criminals who will live long and successful lives despite the death and destruction they have caused throughout the world:

George Walker Bush
George Herbert Walker Bush
Dan Quayle
Albert Gore, Jr.
William Jefferson Clinton
Madeline Albright
Condeleeza Rice
Paul Wolfowitz
Paul Bremmer
Donald Rumsfeld
Robert McNamara
Henry Kissinger

So, if you will add names of current genocidal criminals slated to live long and successful lives despite the lives they participated in destroying, please add them in the comments section.

If you have links to the photos that I was seeking, it would be much appreciated, I would really like to get them up.

One last question, why the fuck do we allow these genocidal criminals to walk this earth?

One last thing: My friend Jim Craven is listed in "Who's Who in the World." He has tried to get himself delisted on several occasions without success because he doesn't want his name mentioned in the same book as that genocidal criminal, Henry Kissinger, as well as others.

Winter Outing

The Power of the Word

Our friends Maire and Donovan invited us to a local celebration of "Burns Night." Every year on January 25th, Scots folks and the folks who love them get together and feast and celebrate Scotland's bard, Robert Burns. Robert Burns, "Rabbie," is Scotland's most beloved poet and I'm told the Scots folk indeed Love their poets.

The Haggis is the most important part of any celebration of "Burns Night," and last night was no exception. The Haggis, as in the photos below, was piped in at the celebration we were at by Jeff, the piper, and carried by our host, Mikey. Robert Burns poem, "Address to the Haggis," was read over the wonderful "beastie," and the fanfare was a wonderful part of the whole celebration.

Yesterday, all over the world, there was much eating of Haggis and much reading of "Address to the Haggis," (which Shusli summarized as stating that if you don't eat Haggis, your manly parts will shrivel up and fall off, or something like that anyway), as well as much drinking of Scotch.

Despite its bad reputation, Haggis is not as scary as folks make it out to be. In fact, it is quite good. "Poor peoples food," as our friend Maire might say.

In thinking of this day for the last couple of weeks, I have become enamoured with the idea of the power of the word.





Saul Williams says it in a story. He was sitting in Belize with some friends and they ran out of rolling papers. A Rasta fella they were smoking with whips out his bible and reads the first page of Genesis. He then rips out the page and rolls a big fattie. At this time Saul says he realized the power of the word. "First God said it, then it was."

Words can inspire us into Love and into killing. Words can make things seem really sweet, like "Patriot Act," but only disguise insidious terror beneath their echoes.

As a poet, I heard Rabbie had inspired many a woman into getting naked with him. As a poet myself, that never happened for me. I think my poetry more scares the shit out of folks than it does inspire them to lust for a fatty long hair like me, but that's OK. You see, it was a poem that first inspired my Lovely wife, Shusli, to call my show many years ago. It was my poetry that inspired her to meet me. And now we are married and I Love her oh so much and she Loves me as well.

I pray that the words I have tossed about in my lifetime have inspired folks to empower themselves to take everything back. May it be so...

TO THE WORD! MANY INSPIRATIONS TO FOLKS TO EMPOWER THEMSELVES TO CREATE A WORLD GOOD FOR EVERYONE AND ALL LIFE YET TO COME!

Bless Yeez All.

Never In A Fair Fight!

I've told this story before, but I'll tell it again:

Daniel Boone, an American legend and frontiersman, was captured and lived with the Shawnee in captivity for some seven years if I remember my history correctly.

He met the future amazing leader of the Shawnee, Tecumseh, when he was just aged seven. While together near a stream of water, Dan told Tecumseh how white folks do business. He held out one hand to Tecumseh to shake his and kept his other hand behind his back. When Tecumseh reached for Dan's hand, Dan grabbed it hard, pulled him in and off balance, while swining a knife from his other hand which he had held behind his back, and put it to Tecumseh's throat. He had a hearty laugh. Tecumseh thought it was a disgusting display.

I believe that is the moral high ground I hear all the folks around here talking about when they discuss Iraq and the U.S. regaining its moral high ground. The U.S. has forgotten how to keep their knife hand behind their back and now just do business openly in such manners. I guess that's the U.S. moral high ground folks keep talking about.

By now, I'm sure, you've all heard about the recent invasion of Gaza by Israel because Gaza militants have been shooting rockets into Israel. Here, I will tell you an interesting story I heard.

Israel, in it's founding some 60 years ago, was given the opportunity for peace. But its founders thought that peace basically makes a nation fat and lazy. So, what does a nation do? It builds up an overwhelming military might, then creates an enemy. The enemy it creates must have virtually no military might or a military might that is so weak it could be easily and quickly over ran (knife behind the back, then to the throat). But you don't want to wipe these folks out, either. You want them alive because their lives serve your nations purpose. They attack your nation with its minor might because you, as a nation, have destroyed their economies and keep them oppressed on their own lands. Then, you move in with your overwhelming military might. But wait! You also have control over their energy supply. You cut it off, make them weaker, because in a fair fight, it just wouldn't work as well in your direction. Thus, a minor analysis of the current Israel/Gaza conflict. Israel uses tanks, Gaza uses stones. Never in a fair fight.

The U.S. did the same to Iraq. No military might faced by an overwhelming military might. Never in a fair fight. This type of shit has happened throughout history, like Ronnie Reagan hitting soft targets in Nicaragua and Honduras in the '80's; hospitals and schools specifically. Good ole American moral high ground, like; "Kill them all, little and big...nits make lice." Never in a fair fight.

I read in David Stannard's, "American Holocaust," that when the Aztecs went to war, they liked a level playing field. Your folks didn't have as many weapons, they'd give you some to even it out. Not as many soldiers on the field? They'd take away some of theirs. They loved a fair fight, or so it seems. Loved a balanced playing field. Didn't practice that American moral high ground of "Kill them all, little and big..." or "soft targets."

Tell me folks, don't you think it would be honest...and well...MORAL, to fight on a level playing field? Say, 100,000 Americans armed with...bats...against 100,000 well fed and healthy Iraqi's armed with...bats. Then they go at each other for a while, and after it is all over, head to the nearest Iraqi bar, compare wounds, laugh and joke about the good fight, cry over fallen and wounded comrades, then maybe decide to turn it into a sport where not so much killing happened.

Oh, I'm sorry, this is civilization, and civilization never fights fair. Fair and balanced my ass! Never in a fair fight!

CRASH BANG BOOM!

We had a drivers meeting yesterday at work. We discussed safety, mostly, as two trucks were totalled this last year because of icy road conditions. This alone cost our company (even after insurance pay offs etc.) $140,000. The big boss also mentioned that the health insurance rates increase by about $100,000 every year as well as the insurance rates are going to go up on the vehicles because of the wrecks. The company also spent $80,000 more on fuel than they did the previous year. I guess it won't pay off if I ask for a raise now, enit.

The Market, as it were, took a wee bit of a DIVE off of a high cliff yesterday. But, thankfully, some of those folks who get paid a lot of money to delay the impending economic collapse were on it, but it looks like it may be a little more difficult to hold on to those thin threads that keep the U.S. economy from collapsing. The Market dipped over 400 points (not a good golf score, either) then was rallied back for the dow to end at -129 points. Economic collapse impending maybe a little sooner than we think...

If you want to read some interesting materials on the impending crash, and probably some of the best advice you can get about it, go to Life After the Oil Crash and read some of their analysis.

A lot of people are talking about investing in or buying actual gold. I have to tell you something here folks, you can't eat the stuff. Well, you can, but really, once you eat the stuff, what is it worth? You see, gold, in all actuality, is only a rock. The value assessed to gold is one assessed by humans in a civilized society, not by nature. This is called..."trust"...in economic terms. You trust that gold has value that has been assigned to it by civilized human beings. It ain't gonna keep you protected, and you ain't gonna be able to eat enough of the stuff to survive.

Personally, I would suggest community. Get with your peeps, find ways to keep yourselves healthy, happy, protected, and survive this shit that is about to happen or, even if the market ass gets saved by lies and illusions which we, as civilized human beings "trust," it isn't gonna last forever. It is doomed to fall sooner or later.

Hang on tight, folks, this may just be a bumpy ride.

M-O-O-N Spells Moon

Dancing With Spirits at the Wacipi Powwow 2008

Inside and Outside My Truck

Beep beep beep...my pager went off for the second time. I could walk across many lanes of traffic, lots of traffic lights, around this little business complex, and try to find a payphone, but what would be the point. I'd have to lock up my truck and set out on a journey to find such a beast. I hate cell phones and I choose not to have one. So, in a senseless useless drama of making it look like I was actually doing something about this little issue, I hopped out of my truck walked over to the passenger side, turned around in a circle to try to spy a payphone that I already knew was non-existent within my perameters. But HEY! It looked good to me...and me alone...since I was the only one in the parking lot waiting for a restaurant to open so I could take them some produce they ordered. No...really...it looked good. Nice little turn... feh! I stood there laughing silently at my ridiculous dance. Pretending there is a pay phone where there isn't because I'm getting paged an dancing to the beeps that have stopped a few minutes before but continue to motivate me now like a dog dancing for its person when no one is around.

I stood for a few seconds, smiled at being so rediculous, and let out a little sigh. A snow flake, maybe the first snow flake of the morning, fell gently and quietly on my left shoulder, and I smiled.

As I walked back to the open driver side door of my truck, I saw three more flakes fall. I looked at the sky, but I didn't think a whole lot more would come, but I smiled at the prospect of that which teaches all to rest and covers everything with a simple beauty.

I pull myself into my truck and plop my ass on the seat to hear, "hey," from the passenger seat.

I jump in my seat (having a passenger is against policy), hit my head on the roof (without much pain), and recognize the voice that was talking to me, though he obviously startled me out of my seat.

"JESUS CHRIST! YOU FUCKING SCARED ME!" Jesus laughed, loving such ironies as people calling out his name in vain when he appears to them. He was dressed in all of his robeish fineries. He smelled like flowers. He had a great big smile shining through his dark skin, black beard and mustache. I always admired his dark hands and thick fingernails when he appeared to me like this.

"Haven't seen you in a while," I said after shaking off all of the startle energy. "You've probably been busy, bein' who you are and all."

He just smiled. He cupped his hands together, pushed them in my general direction, then opened them to display a small handful of marijuana buds.

"That's really sweet, Jesus, but they random at my work. You know, everyone has to try to control everyone else's..." I pause knowing whom I'm talking to. "Well...you know."

Jesus nodded.

"But I have a friend that sure could use that stuff. Could you take that to her?"

He nodded and closed his hands.

"I'm smoking this stuff now," I tell Jesus, reaching into my bag and pulling out the Pendleton zip bag gifted to me by my wife, and pulled out some tobacco. "That's Girl's Blend, blended by Steve Books from Rich's Tobacco. That's for you," I tell him and hand him the bag.

He opened it, inhaled deeply, and smiled broadly. "That's nice. Thank you."

Jesus cupped his hands together around the tobacco and opened them in my general direction showing two tightly and perfectly wound hand rolled in Jesus' own hands cigarettes. When I roll my own cigarettes, they always look like a snake that just swallowed a rat. I took one and put it to my lips, Jesus did the same with the other. They were both already lit and we inhaled deeply and let the smoke pour out the open windows of the truck and upwards symbolically toward his dad.

"We're not supposed to smoke in the truck," I tell him. "But then again, you're Jesus."

"You're not," he says.

"Yeah, well, ya know."

He smiled.

We smoked our cigarettes about half way down before Jesus started talking.

"You've been flat, lately," Jesus tells me. You should listen to your elders, I believe, and Jesus doesn't get much older than most folks. You have to trust these elders, too, and Jesus has earned mine.

"You've been uncreative, stagnant, stale, bored, boring," Jesus continued. "You're flat."

"Uhhhh, thanks, Jesus," I responded...flatly.

"That's not a bad thing, brother," he tells me. "It is just a point of fact that you need to know to recognize where you are, where you've been, and where you are going."

I like having these conversations with Jesus, though I ain't a christian and never will be. Sometimes, though, I wish it were Crazy Horse or Chief John or someone indigenous from so far back I have no idea who they are would show up...

"I heard that," Jesus said.

I was surprised he read my mind. "No offense."

"None taken," he said with a smile. "Now back to the subject at hand..."

"You've hardly written a poem in a while. You haven't written a short story in a long time. You are barely even writing political commentary and there is a reason for this. These are signs. There is a reason for this stagnation, this flatness. You've been burning yourself out, brother."

"Well, Jesus," I stated, getting frustrated with our conversation because, well, he was right, "I'm fucking tired of the whole thing. I'm tired of this world collapsing. I'm tired of the horrific poisons unleashed upon this world by my fellow human beings. I'm tired of war. I'm tired of genocide. I'M TIRED! I just don't understand why it is so difficult for people to understand that killing each other isn't cool. That poisoning our world isn't cool. That being mean and cruel to others to get what you want isn't cool. I don't feel like there is a whole lot I can do about it and that everything I have done has had little or no effect. But I have to keep on trying."

"What is the first right?" Jesus asked me.

"Health," I said.

"That's right. And it is the same everywhere. If you are unhealthy it is a sign of something. That something needs to change. Same with your world. If it is unhealthy, then something needs to change, and you know this. But you have neglected your own health which only contributes to the unhealthiness of the world."

Jesus flicked his cigarette butt towards a bare tree and it turned into a white moth and flew away. "Mitakuye Oyasin," he whispered.

I tossed mine out and it fell in the white grass and smoldered, "mitakuye oyasin," I whisper.

"You're daughter is a representation of everything you struggle against in your personal world and she is defiant and strong willed like everything you struggle against in your personal world. You cannot change her, brother. She is who she is and she will change on her own, if she changes at all."

"Look, Jesus, I've had this same conversation with others. You ain't telling me anything I don't know. I Love the kid, but I know she is going to lack greatly in gratefullness, compassion, empathy, and harbor strengths in being mean and greedy. As much as I Love her I realize I can't be around that all the time. She does her utmost to be mean to Shusli and I and she can't be trusted. She is a liar and a thief and a back stabber as well as all those wonderful things I've seen in her. The spirit she carries, the kindness, compassion, Love, empathy, is all being stood on for strength for the meanness she has become to strengthen her greed in the world."

Jesus smiled.

"I don't know what to do, Jesus, so I have taken many giant steps back. Her mom is finally doing something, but the core person she is, that greedy mean person, is absolutely strong. She lacks depth. I mean she has depth, but she stands on it to be the person she is.

"I don't think I can do this anymore, Jesus. It is just so fucking hard. She sucks up so much of my energy and Shusli's energy and the energy of everything all around her to get what she wants. I've tried everything, Jesus. Everything I could think of. But her armor is so thick and all I can toss are pebbles and pour water. It just takes too much energy, so it is time for me to step back or away altogether. I've started stepping back already. That seems to have had no impact on her at all whatsoever, so I truly believe that our relationship is gone, it is just a matter of time. I mean, I'm no Jesus, Jesus, and I can't see the future, nor would I ask you to look into the future for me because that is my responsibility, but this is a pattern that seems to scream our relationship is over, it is just a matter of time.

"Jesus, Jesus, it hurts too much for it to be anything but pain anymore, and youz all have told me I'm living into my 80's, and then this. I don't want this mean cruellness into my 80's.

"And the world, she is a metaphor of America and America of her. I can't change things, but what else am I gonna do, watch TV."

Jesus pointed his face gently and sternly at me. I met him half way until our noses were a few inches apart and I could feel his breath on my face. He smelled like Girl's Blend and flowers.

"A great man once said," Jesus stated, "'things rarely turn out the way we expect them to, but they always turn out.'"

"You mean someone said that before me?" I asked.

Jesus laughed a hearty laugh. "You think you're daughter is stubborn.

"You know," Jesus said, "I have thousands of appointments to make every day. At least in your human concept of time. Sometimes millions. These are honest prayers of people who want my help or dads help or both, or help that doesn't involve either of us. Some of them I talk to just like I do you. Others I can be as simple as something catching the corner of their eye. Sometimes I can make all these appointments all at once, again, using you allz concept of time. Sometimes I take them on individual basis. Sometimes I mix it up. Sometimes I'm just too tired and send in other spirits who are, in all honesty, just as great as I am...using you allz concept of greatness.

"I like talking with you. You just see me as human and spirit, at least when I appear as human to you. Nothing more and nothing less than you. Nothing more and nothing less than any of those around you and all humanity, including your daughter. I really enjoy that you don't idolize me, and that you don't look to be idolized. You are out in an attempt to change what seems unchangeable. You take your desire to help seriously, and are humble. You have many faults, but they don't matter to you as much as leaving a better place for generations to come. And you accept your flatness and stagnation at this time as a sign that you have burned yourself out and it was time to talk with someone like me again.

"Relax, brother. Take your time unless something requires immediate action. You're car is falling apart because you feel like you are spinning your wheels and going nowhere. Don't spin your wheels. You are trying to take care of your car, but it is a real pain in the ass TO YOU! You are trying to take care of yourself, but it is a real pain in the ass TO YOU. Take care of the world as best you can, but you can't do that from an unhealthy place as you have beaten yourself into.

"Take it from me! I'm Jesus, for Christ's sake!"

We both had a good laugh at that one.

"Jesus, tell dad and grandma I Love them," I requested.

"They know, and send their Love back. Don't forget that, brother.

"Looks like your appointment is showing up," Jesus said.

I looked out the window to see a car pulling into the parking lot. I look back at the passenger seat. Jesus is gone and there is the pouch of tobacco that I gave him in his place on the seat with a little note:

"Thanks again, but I think you need this more than I do. You know it is a prayer, and you need to pray like you are praying in this story. --Jesus"

"...praying in this story," I think, easily confused. The note turned into a white moth and flew toward a moon made invisible by clouds. Time to get back to work.

"I Love life," I say to myself, and open the door to my truck, the smell of tobacco and flowers in my hair. A few tiny white flakes falling gently to the earth.