Al Sharpton. Really....

The Rev. Al Sharpton spoke at Tabernacle Baptist Church in Atlanta on Sunday and spoke out against the Mormon Church and evangelicals who fought to pass Proposition 8:


"It amazes me when I looked at California and saw churches that had nothing to say about police brutality, nothing to say when a young black boy was shot while he was wearing police handcuffs, nothing to say when the they overturned affirmative action, nothing to say when people were being delegated into poverty, yet they were organizing and mobilizing to stop consenting adults from choosing their life partners. There is something immoral and sick about using all of that power to not end brutality and poverty, but to break into people’s bedrooms and claim that God sent you."
According to the Southern Voice, "Sharpton came to Atlanta to celebrate the launch of the Alliance of Affirming Faith-Based Organizations."

He added: "I am tired of seeing ministers who will preach homophobia by day, and then after they’re preaching, when the lights are off they go cruising for trade...We know you’re not preaching the Bible, because if you were preaching the Bible we would have heard from you. We would have heard from you when people were starving in California, when they deregulated the economy and crashed Wall Street you had nothing to say. When [alleged Ponzi schemer Bernie] Madoff made off with the money, you had nothing to say. When Bush took us to war chasing weapons of mass destruction that weren’t there you had nothing to say. … But all of a sudden when Proposition 8 came out you had so much to say, but since you stepped in the rain, we gonna step in the rain with you."

Amen.

http://www.sovo.com/thelatest/thelatest.cfm?blog_id=23441

Sierra Club: Thank You Mr. President.

There is no excuse for poor manners. We have great work to do. Together. And we will do it together. We've come this far and we can't turn back now. Let's start the great work with the appreciation of what we've accomplished. Please go to the Sierra Club's site with the link at the bottom and join me in saying, "Thank You Mr. President."

Peace and Pasta,

Tony Spats


Sierra Club

One of the lost Sebbeths: K-Dog.

One of the 12 Days of 40 was Learn to surf. I put my faith (and ass) in the hands of my very good friend K-Dog ('I believe you'll thank our host this evening, for the use of an alias') (bonus points for naming that movie) K is a great friend and buddy, amazing father, skilled delegator, and awkward dancer. His family is like mine, each one funnier than the next and when they all gather, it's usually a Lovefest of increasing aural volume. We've known each other for several years and though we don't get together as much there's an assurance that the friendship can be picked up right where it was last. Back to my faith (and ass).

Vintage pix of KDog, last day at Duker.

K is a skilled surfer in the Santa Monica hood. His presence on the beach sends lesser surfers and homeless alike scampering away as if he was Obi Wan Kenobi. He has become my Obi Wan and my Billy Banks. I am enrolled in KDoggie's Surf Academy. (Board of Fiberglass Education) I have learned to deck change (lose your clothes on the street, changing into your wetsuit under a towel. This has always amused me whenever I drive to work. I pass many of these surfers doing the same. The most difficult thing is getting into the wetsuit. It's like a vacuum or a new skin, two sizes too small. I look like a geriatric fool getting into the suit, but it's so worth it. I've also learned to duck dive which is where you dive under the enormous wave which would crush lesser fools. You sneak under the energy of the wave and retain your cool. K's teaching me surf cool.

Surf Cool is a lot like dog walking. The turf is marked and the bigger dogs are regarded for their skills. They address each other as 'Brah' and have a whole sub language. They can 'vibe' each other to criticize their spacial awareness or lack of etiquette. They shred, they rip, they tube. I feel it stiffening in my brain, or maybe it's that the water quality of Santa Monica is suspect. It's a great sport, swimming in a petri dish. They really mean 'Toes on the Nose'. I know that K has maintained his individuality from the heard, though he is bilingual to surfspeak.

Yesterdays lesson wrapped up in fine style. My patient K-Dog cajoled and prodded me in his Boot camp. I got up a few times, and rode one for a little bit. I really am enjoying this activity I was thinking while watching K catch some water for himself. When he was done, making everyone in the vicinity look like spastic orphans on ironing boards, he told me there was no leaving until I got up again. Boom I was back on the board, looking for the wave. It came, I paddled like a madman, pushed up and slid off. I was learning in bad conditions yesterday according to K, low tide and small swells. "Back on, Do it Again!" the drill sarge barked with glee. Back on, back out, waiting. Here it comes, paddle, paddle, paddle and.....................push up! Nosedive. Nose of board into the beach, surfer into the wave. Surface. The teacher has gone bananas. Bananas I tell you. He's jumping up and down, hooting and howling. He's waving his arms shouting, "That's how we end a lesson. Yeah!". I was less thrilled with that particular moment in my schooling then realized he was commenting on the surfboard, split in two. I was mortified, and he was elated. Education is weird. The board had seen a lot of action, and then had been given to him. He put some miles on it and taught students on it. It had served K well. I was still in shock and then found the humor.

So we boogie boarded the rest of the lesson on the shattered instrument and put the board in the trash on our way back to the day. As much as a reality check getting into the wetsuit getting out of it's even funnier for newbies. My teacher is pleased with my progress and elated in the humor. Back to the day we go leaving the beach behind. He had conference calls I had NetFlix. KDog, thanks for starting this wave of activity (funny on two levels) and for being as patient as a circus tattoo artist decorating the backside of a constipated elephant. I'm learning more and more each time and soon you'll be able to look cool again. Peaceoutside.

"Brah, I shred so hard man, I break my stick."-Tony Spats, total californitized new englander, on turning 40

Laugh At Joe Lieberman Day!!!!!!!!

Another reason to celebrate, Laugh At Joe Lieberman Day!!!!!!!!!!!

I know it's not an easily recognizable holiday but if those two guys can Make International Talk Like A Pirate Day than this should be a cake walk.

Follow the instructions from the link provide ha-ha-here and let this politco-relic hypocratic oat know how he's regarded. His politcal party (what is this week?) should be the Revolving Door or better yet; The Tur-duck-en.

Why Gay Marriage is Wrong.

This is from my friend Brady, who takes it (my abuse) like a champ. I'm torn between liking three or four best.

10 Reasons Why Gay Marriage is Wrong!

ShareToday at 1:43am

Copied from elsewhere on the web.

1) Being gay is not natural.And real Americans always reject unnatural things like eyeglasses, polyester, and air conditioning, tattoos, piercings and silicon breasts...

2) Gay marriage will encourage people to be gay.In the same way that hanging around tall people will make you tall.

3) Legalizing gay marriage will open the door to all kinds of crazy behavior.People may even wish to marry their pets because a dog has legal standing and can sign a marriage contract. Lamps are next.

4) Straight marriage has been around a long time and hasn't changed at all.Hence why women are still property, blacks still can't marry whites, and divorce is still illegal.

5) Straight marriage will be less meaningful if gay marriage were allowed.And we can't let the sanctity of Britney Spears' 55-hour just-for-fun marriage be destroyed.

6) Straight marriages are valid because they produce children.So therefore, gay couples, infertile couples, and old people shouldn't be allowed to marry because our population isn't out of control, our orphanages aren't full yet, and the world needs more children.

7) Obviously gay parents will raise gay children.Since, of course, straight parents only raise straight children.

8) Gay marriage is not supported by religion.In a theocracy like ours, the values of one religion are imposed on the entire country. That's why we have only one religion in America.

9) Children can never succeed without a male and a female role model at home.Which is exactly why we as a society expressly forbid single parents to raise children.

10) Gay marriage will change the foundation of society; we could never adapt to new social norms.Just like we haven't adapted to cars, the service-sector economy, or longer life spans.

March Now!

Please come out, come out, wherever you are:

Tonight!

6pm!

Sunset Junction of Silverlake

Where Sunset Blvd. meets

Santa Monica Blvd.

Come out to rally for the repeal of Prop. 8,

it's Unfair and Wrong.

Arrange furniture, not people's marriages.

We are not second class citizens.

Equal rights, please.

melissa etheridge and her Prop 8 opinion.

I love me some ME.

www.thedailybeast.com/blogs-and-stories/2008-11-06/you-can-forget-my-taxes/

No on 8 PSA: CONSTITUTION

This is the largest grassroots political movement in California's history. Get off my civil rights and put ignorance back where it belongs, in the church.

Third Grade Gay

Give us a cause to celebrate. Let's do this.

Rabbit, rabbit.

Yeah baby. Rabbit Rabbit.

Well it didn't make the grade this month (I'm writing this postumously for the sebbeth) We had a fantastic idea to help some people out and it fell apart. The Duke's "For A Cure" Breast Cancer Benefit was cancelled due to many reasons I don't feel like getting into again. It's over. It's done and we plan to do the benefit next year with a more solid plan and effort from all parties. The lessons learned in this debacle will provide more insight to '09. Why should Sara Palin be the only one making lofty long range plans. Thanks for all the nice words and works; ya made me feel great.

In lieu of a sebbeth post I'll leave you with a grand bit of words celebrating the Spirit we all strive to extol. I dedicate this post to my mother, Pauline Spatafora. She's the woman that I learned to get back up on my feet each time I get knocked down. She's the ideal I consider when I do something, it's with an effort the strength of huricane. She put amazing good stuff in me. She's a Phenomenal Woman. Phenomally.


Phenomenal Woman

Pretty women wonder where my secret lies.
I'm not cute or built to suit a fashion model's size
But when I start to tell them,
They think I'm telling lies.
I say,It's in the reach of my arms
The span of my hips,
The stride of my step,
The curl of my lips.
I'm a woman
Phenomenally.
Phenomenal woman,
That's me.
I walk into a room
Just as cool as you please,
And to a man,
The fellows stand or
Fall down on their knees.
Then they swarm around me,
A hive of honey bees.I say,
It's the fire in my eyes,
And the flash of my teeth,
The swing in my waist,
And the joy in my feet.
I'm a woman
Phenomenally.
Phenomenal woman,
That's me.
Men themselves have wondered
What they see in me.
They try so much
But they can't touch
My inner mystery.
When I try to show them
They say they still can't see.
I say,
It's in the arch of my back,
The sun of my smile,
The ride of my breasts,
The grace of my style.
I'm a woman
Phenomenally.
Phenomenal woman,
That's me.
Now you understand
Just why my head's not bowed.
I don't shout or jump about
Or have to talk real loud.
When you see me passing
It ought to make you proud.
I say,It's in the click of my heels,
The bend of my hair,the palm of my hand,
The need of my care,
'Cause I'm a woman
Phenomenally.
Phenomenal woman,
That's me.


Maya Angelou

Sebbeth.

Wednesdays child is a quiet child. I'm finding the economy is a bummer. I've done my level best this year to restart the global economy with the 12 Days, but I'm not getting the dollar to go as far as I need it to. This is trying.

We are quiet this month as the sebbeth lets us reflect on the year. I'm pretty jazzed to where we've been and where we're going. Amazing events appear to happen all over the calendar not solo 17Th. Fall is here, Mexico is near, Halloween nearer, and the big event comes soon after both.

Last week LynZ, June and I made the trip to Ahmanson to see and a fun little number entitled '9 to 5; the musical. Yep, you've guessed it, the American cinema was mined again to try and find blond luck for the American theater. The best part that this had for it was that the music and lyrics were by Miss Dolly Parton herself. The familiar theme song has a co-starring role in the production that features my favorite Alison Janney cast as Violet Newstead; the role Lilly Tomlin brought to life. The music is cute and really enthusiastically put out there for all to love. All three leads kicked the hell out of their songs, if only the story had a little more zip to sell it. Dolly has put a great little number in for the Dora-Lee Rhodes character. The sexpot brings "Backwoods Barbie" to the laps of the audience and leaves the joint a-smilin'.

When we saw the show it had just opened and was still experiencing some growing pains. In the second act the recently freed boss, Franklin Hart, begins to extract vengeance on the three ladies who have held him captive all this time. As he unleashes his demands he grabs for the phone on his desk, who's cord has not been reconnected since Dora Lee ripped it out in the first act. Oooooopps. The cord sails around loose, even as the phone miraculously rings. We bust a gut laughing at what only live theater can bring to a night. The actors all tried numerous covers for the gaff and settled on not being able to fix it. This was fine by us in the house. Everyone was smiling. On a preview night earlier in the week the show was plagued with some technical difficulties causing the show to stop. Miss Parton watching the show stands and starts chatting the crowd up. She ends up buying the crew time by leading the audience in an Capella version of the theme song. Everybody ate it up, even Miss Parton. "C'mon, y'all know the words by now, don't ya?" To keep it going, she then sang "I'll Always Love You" with an intro letting the audience know that Whitney may have sung it prettier, Dolly made more money on it. Now that's pretty funny.

The show is off for New York where it will probably die a quick death. I'm glad I got to see it because it is one of my favorite movies. I was glad to see that so many of the great scenes in the film were translated in word and sentiment to the stage. This production did lovingly approach the movie in this, so I was thankful. It was a fun night.

Rabbit, rabbit.

Rabbit Rabbit. Here's a new month of joy to play and frolic towards forty with. Or to take forty steps to the playground and fall into the sand looking for the wormhole that brought me here. I think back to childhood and what is it I see? Sandboxes, inchworms and of course.................the Village People.

This manfest that rode (pun intended) the rising star of Disco in the late seventies until, well, now is as American as Liberace, Betty White and apple pie. This troupe of performers featured a cop, a cowboy, a leather man, an Indian, and a soldier each chosen to be typical masculine varieties. The homo eroticism was lost on a naive public. A concept band, Village People was the genius of Jacques Morali, a French musician who planned on cashing in on theDisco phenomena. After hearing the amazing voice of the original cop, Victor Wills, Morali auditioned for some manly talent to surround Wills with. So much the better that they could dance and carry a stage presence. Audition notices went out and a crew was assembled. When their hit "Macho Man" made number one, the splash that the Village People made had the American attention. It would be the iconic "Y.M.C.A" that would forever leave the Village People's mark on the United States and the world. Other hits include "Go West", "In The Navy" and "Key West".

This year the Village People celebrate their thirtieth anniversary and will receive a star on The Hollywood Walk Of Fame, not far from Liberace's ironically. Although the line-up of the band has changed over the years, the role's have still held fast. The typical masculine varieties have been recast but their orders are still being obeyed. At many a social event a tribe of people in a circle will be throwing their hands in the air in the forms of letters to lyrics.

Birthdays and birthday suits.

Isn't it funny how we mark special occasions with ritualistic behavior. We blow out candles for wishes' sakes, we christen boats by smashing champagne bottles over their hulls, We extend blessings when people sneeze and yet nothing when they fart. On New Years Day many people mark the new year by jumping in the ocean, temperature be damned. Why is it so many of us when in our twenties decide to mark our birthdays by getting naked?

Is it a back to basics? Is it animal foreplay with the universe? Why do we jump into our birthday suit and start running a lap of victory? We don't necessarily call our parents and say, "Hey thanks for having the sense to not watching tv so many years ago so that you guys could make me. I really appreciate it today." I'm sure they appreciate their dna being bandied about in an uppity bar in Santa Monica with a blond bippity as jewelry on their precious labor. And yet it happens. Most of my twenties were spent with my pants dropped, my nipple exposed and my feet bare. There was always something that needed to be regarded with my physical side. In our twenties do we think that this is our only commodity? I certainly was the social one.

I had the privilege of attending a bday soiree last pm and witnessed the same behavior happening around the bar. The guest of honor enjoyed the bacchanalian worship. Other patrons in the place experienced similar joy. Maybe it's just part of the mating ritual but I can't help but see more meaning in it. It was late in the evening and yuppies were pairing up, but these acts pop up so frequently in celebratory events. It's been around for centuries. Maybe it's a tribute to Adam and Eve. Getting back to basics, as simple as it can be, and embracing joy. Exposing yourself is as old as the moon. Literally. (drops pants and moons monitor)

Sebbeth

It's an addiction this tattooing. I love my first one I got fifteen years ago, as the art form was getting it's rise.

I was in Auburn, NY and it had been an annoying day where we had done 'Aladdin' in two different venues in the same town. The load in and outs had been in the rain which made the day that much more bliss. I should also mention that this was probably our one thousandth performance of this children's theatre Chinese drip torture, we had begun in early June it was now October. I was the evil magician and if I got my hands on that little street whelp Aladdin, I would kill him; the cast was ready to kill each other. One quick corner with a magic carpet and I was going to put him right through Agrabar. Aaaaah non union theatre in the woods, it's as manly as hair on your buttocks. I digress.

Reba (The Genie) and I had decided we would get ink together and just had to get the date down. We looked at each other at the last load out and said 'Now', our bonding over ill fitting set pieces, too many c-clamps, and stinky costumes had brought us to this point. We would mark the occasion with ink, and if the pain was as good as we'd feared it would be a blessed alternative to where we had brought our lives. Don't misread this, we were overly dramatic, as was our prerogative. We were in the woods, delivering 'Quality Theater At Affordable Prices' and we'd been sharing a van with 2-3 other strong personalities. This was high drama at high altitudes. Off to Tatu Tony's just by the prison. The artist in residence, Tony, had 69 tattoo'd on his lip. We were so in the right place. Reba opted for a simple piece (I'm not sure if I should even divulge that she has one she's a soccer mom now) and mine as well. A simple Chinese character on my ankle, the pain was nothing. The worst part was the cramp I got from holding my leg up on an angle for soo long. For fifteen years I've loved my first and have eagerly wanted my second.

It's addicting. So I swore that one of the Sebbeths would be a tattoo. But what to get? And where? These were newbies problems. Get a set Spats. Get a set and get it done. Jen turned me on to an artist in the neighborhood who was clean and good. I just needed the specifics; location, art and deposit to secure an appointment. My this art form has come along way from the side of a prison. I began thinking it over and for a longtime have wanted a monkey on my back (hee hee). I narrowed the research to tribal and cartoon. I stumbled on some original Oz art and thought that might be genius. Marking my fortieth with a flying monkey, how Wicked. And it was my first professional job after college, and the first show little Julia saw me in back in 91 in Davenport Iowa. Another two stories entirely. The shop got me right in and here's my latest brethren, Balthazar (like Getty but more). I was sitting in the chair imagining where the next tattoo would be. And the next. This is addicting.

Sebbeth.

here we are again. speeding towards oblivion. I mean towards the next stage not total darkness. I'm on that shady side of the thirties most definitely. I'm in a position to recreate myself in the land of make believe where people have to do this or become boring. Los Angeles is the original town where you can stick a feather in your hat and call it art or haute cuisine. No one would dare shout that The Emperor has no clothes for chance their own nudity would be exposed. You can be whoever you'd like and no one will bat an eye. They'll bat if there's a gift bag involved.

I've decided to expand my minister enterprise and bring more people to the chapel than Elvis Presley. Marry me Bill, I love you so. I want to do this in a more commercial status and launch a website and get networking. You know how social I can be. I decided this Sebbeth would be a commitment to the new project and I enlisted my friend Jen to take some new head shots for my portfolio. We met for an enormous breakfast at the Griddle Cafe in HWood on Sunset and made our way to Melrose area. It's not unusual to see white trailers and crews in this area, filming away. It's even less unusual to see a photographer, strapped with equipment lead her subject around in search of great natural backdrops. Like some surrealist wildlife we traipsed through back alleys and side streets, parking lots and intersections as if it was our forest. We had amazing success and lots of laughs. With my wardrobe on my back and a smile on my face we made our way to Fred Siegel where we enjoyed a Peroni, Pellegrino and a peak at John C. Reilly (jen's fave actor).

When the website's up you'll be first to know. Here's the pix.

Bastille Day.

There's always a reason to celebrate in this year of joy. Bastille Day is just one of them.



The actual holiday is July 14Th and it commemorates the first anniversary of the storming of the French prison, The Bastille in 1789. This act led to the dissolution of the French monarchy and the rise of the French nation. Cheese eating surrender monkeys. F the french. I have animus from many years in food service and dealing with their representatives. Makes me want to storm them in revolution. I guess Bastille Day can be celebrated in many different ways.

7.11

Freeeeee Slurrrppppeeeeeeeeees!!!!!!!!!

Do you think this an urban myth? Do you expect to be found at the bottom of an over sized cup of semi frozen, semi carbonated cherry beverage with a bandage pressed to where your kidney used to be? Well let's debunk this urban myth (yeth?) right here and now as we find another cause to celebrate in the 12 Days Of 40.

On July 11Th of every year, the Seven Eleven Corporation celebrates it's company's birthday as well as Customer Appreciation Day. It does this by giving away free 7.11 ounce Slurpees to their loyal following. Heresy! You don't know what a Slurpee is? Here's your tutorial and be glad that I can't tase you bro, right through your keyboard. A Slurpee is all that's magical next to the laundry mat that claims your morning in the blistering sun. A Slurpee is all that's right after your little one drops the fly ball that would have defeated Ace Hardware's Little League team. A Slurpee is how you end a long day of furniture shopping in the San Fernando Valley furnace heat. This is an oasis this Slurpee. To hear that a major company is giving away it's crown jewel just to say thanks is pretty neat. It rallies the troops to visit.

One might believe this to be a clever marketing ruse to get you in the doors and bamboozle you into taking a hot dog home for seventeen fifty, but dear readers, this is not Scientology. Hot dog taking and bamboozling aside, Seven Eleven wants their patrons to know how much they appreciate their business and to say "Thank You". Have you ever heard of such a thing? This tradition began in 2002 when the company was celebrating it's 75Th birthday and with such response, continued the tradition. Now it would be crazy to mass market something of this nature as every Tom, Dick, and Thirsty would overrun the city, so leaving it to 'word of mouth' has created a phenomena. I would compare the feeling of this unofficial holiday to that of International Talk Like A Pirate Day or even Melonball Thursday. A grassroots movement that is based in generosity, what could be more beautiful?

It has created a following that looks forward to this day each year. My only hope is that the sanctity of it remains unblemished. I mean look what happened to Burning Man, Key West and Ed Hardy. Too much scum and not enough pond. I hope you were able to get yourself a freebie and a smile this past 7.11, at Seven Eleven, with a 7.11 ounce Slurpee it makes summer smile, really. And keep in mind the new exciting flavor coming soon......Black Ice; it's a slushy version of the carbonated energy drink Monster that is in most Angelenos hands nowadays. Add a pink straw and your homefree.

Bull!

The Running Of The Bulls takes place in Spain and some southern towns in France on July 6-14th. It is during the festival of San Frermin. This offering was to beseech the blessing of Saint Fermin for the townships. The festival was made passionate with this demonstration of bravado. The most famous of these events takes place in Pamplona, Spain where today the first day of the bull run began. The Encierro (from spanish v. encierrer for to shut in or lock up) is a well documented media byte that always catches my eye. I can think of so many better things I could be doing at that moment. Flossing, poaching, watering, shaving, nairing anything butt. (He said 'butt')Though most attention has been on the Pamplona Encierro historical records show the run dates as far back as 1215. Steeped in tradition, history hasn't trampled encierro's importance.

The Encierro begins on the 7Th and continues for the next seven days, each day at 8:oo am. (again why be up that early) The ground rules are simple to participate: The runners must be over 18 to run, they must me not under the influence of alcohol and are forbidden to run in the opposite direction. This kills me. And I'm sure many of the runners. If your internal GPS is so under the influence of sangria or immaturity that you can't but help charge into a herd of oxen, I suppose there's a reason that your father gave you the day off from the carnicerria. Charge on mi amigo. Rapido. Tradition also asks that the runners wear white with red kerchiefs and sashes. The red will appeal to the bull's sense of fashion/gore and will bring the level of intensity to that of the final two episodes of Project Runway. Runners also may carry a rolled up newspaper to keep the bulls attention. Maybe bulls would be happier with the op-ed page, do they really need to get the information right across the pierced nose. Come to think of it that's how most American high school students have to get their education. Maybe somethings steeped in tradition are relevant today.

I'm thinking of redesigning the whole tradition and keeping it veal, I mean real. I'm thinking of making it much more cazsh (casual). It would be, Bull Durham, CT. The participants will be aged Realtors with flaxen hair pulled back with a red ribbon. They will be in white convertible SAAB's with their Blackberrys in their hands, to replace the newspaper. The encierro will be replaced with Route 81, a lazy road that winds adjacent to the highway Rte. 9 South that connects the Shoreline with center of the state. We won't use wooden planks but we will use State Troopers with tasers to keep the bulls on Route 81. In Bull Durham CT, the oxen are given meth (popular in the woods of CT) and shown pictures of Trish Walsh-Smith (the crazy divorce lady from YouTube) and then prodded to run. The realtors will remind the oxen of the photo stimuli and thus commence the real test of wills; a methed-out bull vs a bad market stressed realtor who's late for an appointment. The challenge is is that the road is narrow and passing will be tough. Let's see who's hide is thicker, and who has meat for dinner.

I really don't think these things through. They just come to me in visions.

July 4th

To some people The Fourth Of July is a bad movie with Tom Cruise. To some it's an excuse to clean out their fridge. For some people, it's a national holiday and reason to barbeque and see family. Whatever your reason is today to celebrate the fourth, I hope you mark it well and surround yourselves with the best. I've done my fridge and now I'm off to surround myself with the very best fish.

Peace!

Here's some magic for you.

Today is 2 nd of July which means in a non-leap year, this is the middle day of the year. Day 183 with 182 more to come. Isn't that magical? I'm always pessimistic in terms of calendar time. I don't even realize June is gone before it is, and then when July comes I get all jaded because it's the seventh month and I have to mourn the first half of the year. Maybe that's me. I freak on strange things like that. But now that I know it's the middle day, I can take it a bit easier.



And more magic, today in history Vermont became the first US territory to abolish slavery. I noticed this because of two interesting facts. The year was 1777 and there were all my favorite numbers together. I'm always attracted to the shiny things whether it be texture or numerical. The mathematical magpie in me. And secondly it goes to show you how forward thinking those hill people can be. It gets cold in the winter, so they have plenty of time to think deep thoughts until the cable goes back on. I just think it incredible that Vermont was there first even before The Revolutionary War had completed and The Civil War hadn't even begun. Maybe they didn't need the slaves because they had plenty of children to delegate work to. It gets cold in the winter. Whatever the reason, that's magic there. Also in Vermont's corner don't forget they've given us civil unions, Howard Dean, and maple syrup. How sweet it is.