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THE OTHER SIDE

fight back!!!
"Know what's at the bottom of all our trouble," my long-gone old friend bellowed above the polluted roar of 6th and Willamette. I hadn't seen him for a couple of years, since our last ass-kicking. Self-pity suddenly transformed to pity. I thought that I was clearcut bulldozed slash-burned stumpfucked by it. Damn. "What, pray tell." I really wanted to know. It never occurred to me in my wildest imaginings that i would meet, this very day, somebody who would explain to me what had been bugging me for so very very long, unassuaged by many long lonely walks, unanswered in the mystical shifts in the glowing throbbing embers of endless campfire vigils of many a post-timber-sale wake. Now the Bringer Of The Answer stood before me, here and now smack-dab in the middle of the very stinking growling belly of the beast itself, swaying and reeking of last night's MD 20/20 ( and night before last night's same substance), manic kaleidoscopic eyes rolling twitching left and right at the endless roaring toxic threat from the many-headed beast of the military/industrial/prison complex writhing in sinister multi-colored gaiety down 6th avenue towards the freeway, propelling the thousands of its wage-slave drones toward the cuboid void of their sheet-rock cells. They needed their rest, to better serve it. "So what is it pal?" I wasn't about to let The Answer evaporate into the alcohol amytrypilline ethers. "Why can't we get any more help out in the forest? Why is it, no sooner than we get the treesits up and running..."- I could feel my blood pressure going up as when every time i thought, much less spoke about it...-"one arrow, after many stray bullets draws a few drops of blood and EVERYBODY, to a "man" flakes out?!?!," i found myself screaming louder than the present traffic warranted. The gaze he levelled upon me was as sobering as a hanging judge's. "Because folks are little more than cowards any more these days, TV propagandized fear-freak sheeple fleeing down the path of least resistance from one fear to another, then from that fear to the next, down down and down. He hiccuped, reeled a little. I reached out to catch him but he managed to upright himself. Just one more bottle......"And i ain't just talkin' about our everyday ordinary forest defense fears- freddies and loggers and all their guns and arrows and handcuffs and jail cells, I'm talkin' about the fears driving all the sheeple down to the slaughter-house any more- fear of resistance to Bush and his endless illegal war, fear of unemployment, foreclosure, homelessness, fear of being thrown into the gulag forever for some Republican bastard accusing you of committing some crime you neither committed nor heard of. Hell...," he went on, throwing his hands up in the air, "Folks are afraid of their own fucking shadows any more. Buncha' fuckin' chickenshit bitches. Hope all their yard trees die of blister rust and root-rot, and their children come out deformed from all the spraying. Serve em' right." The kaleidoscope eyes were flashing red now, the alcohol breath ignitable. Raging dragons are a little out of place these days and i feared for my crazy friend under the baleful glare of slow-moving cops. Sensing the danger himself, he grabbed up his old one-speed, armed with enormous front basket, and wobbled off into the carcinogenic cloud of downtown Green Eugene. Moving targets are harder to hit. Even drunks know this. Especially drunks. "Fucking cowards! Just that plain and simple!," he railed, rolling out of sight. Good luck, Manzanita, you maniac. Upon a time, Cascadia never knew a more energetic hot-blooded visionary forest defender as Manzanita...And look at him now. Cowards indeed. I felt ashamed for that thought, yet i felt slightly short-changed by The Answer. Though so much rang true, there was so much more to it than that. I see folks being more stand-up and out-spoken than ever these days, folks getting fightin' mad over what bothers THEMSELVES. There seems to be no shortage of courage and bravery when it comes to SELF- defense- seems like everybody's getting into it these days- but how many amongst us cares to defend the voiceless defenseless Wild, that upon which all of our lives in this toxic extractive civilization is built and continuously depends upon? When Freres Lumber or Seneca Sawmills or Rosboro Lumber (or any other Earth Mother rapers) pay the fore$t $ervice or BLM to rape another mountainside of OUR old-growth forests and We The Sheeple stand our shit-caked sorry asses by and let it happen without a fight, then, O.K. Manzanita, you're right- truly, we are cowards- but might i add the simple word "self"? Need we look any further than our own back yard to illustrate this? It wasn't THAT long ago that we were one of the most awesome fun and effective forest defense communities on the planet, anywhere, ever. When the fore$t $ervice or Buncha' Lyin' Men (BLM) sold one of their typically hideous timber sales of OUR native forests, they and their rich bitch timber industry good ole' boy buddies had us to deal with, and back in them days, us meant Hell. Howl and Growl, Winberry, China Left, Madre' Loca, Fall Creek, Warner Creek (See the movie PickAxe if you havn't yet)- these are just a few of the battles (some victories, some not) that we fought so that wildlife and future generations (as in your kids) will have some tall trees, clean air, fresh water...Wilderness...Now look at us... One of the most awesome fun and effective forest defense communities on the planet anywhere ever has become little more than a pathetic collection of washed-up burnt-out forest defense has-beens (like me), drunks (drunks and more drunks), pretentious-fuk fashion punks, ultra-hard-core (virtually speaking) cyber-warriors... Forest defense pretense has become a regular feel-good/money-maker 'round here these days. Going by all the super hard-core imagery in "the community", the tats, dreddies, piercings, the oh-so-hip ways, the witty fiery rhetoric, you'd think and rest assured that the Old Forest was covered, protected beyond all doubt and fear from The Enemy. Wake up and think again, this time looking past the smoke-screen facade of the typical Eugene pseudo-activist and you'll see what's real- clearcuts and more clearcuts. For the last several years, the fore$t $ervice has been raping OUR native forests out in the McKenzie valley with one timber sale after another- Nugget, Bullet, Kinko, Ridge Cat(s, one and two, whereupon in the steamy serenity of Cougar Hot Springs you could not only hear but FEEL the ancient Grandma trees slamming to the ground-KABOOM!), Willow, Saucer Twister, Flatco, Blue River Face, Sten (just to name a few) with no real resistance from us at all out in the forest (who the fuk ever "us" is any more), unless you want to include me and my friend's pitiful attempts at saving Blue River Face and Sten- "saved" +/- 50 acres at one, almost got our heads blown off at another accomplishing nothing at all. This shitty state of affairs must end. Cowardice and selfish delusional thinking are status quo modum operandi for most civilized folk these days... -SUPPORT THE TROOPS!- by sacrificing the kid next door to go get his arms blown off for stealing oil to maintain a cheap gas supply for the addicts, more money/control/power for the oligarchs..... -SUPPORT PRO-LIFE!- So unwanted babies can grow up to be society's unwanted people, living and dying in homelessness and poverty. -SAVE THE FOREST!- by hanging out in town having endless fruitless meetings, screaming at buildings, collecting money to maintain the space for all the endless fruitless meetings.... This Spring/Summer (and for several to come) the "Forest Service" and Buncha' Lyin' Men (BLM) are going to inundate us with shit-tons of work- Thousands of acres of OUR native forests are going to be stolen from us by these corporate/government thieves if we don't pull our heads outta' our and one-another's asses and get our eye back on the ball again, making sure it stays in the hands of our REAL forest defenders, both in the courtroom and out in the forest. Remember the ball? Remember the game?- And by the way- Just whose side are you on? Just because we are stuck in and surrounded by a culture of cowardice and delusional self-obsession doesn't mean that we have to submit and succumb to it, become it. Assimilating with corporate/government-controlled WASP Amoreikkkan police-state self-serve civilization is no way to live, neither for an individual, nor a community. We can do better than to reflect all the hate greed and ugliness around us and rise above fearful selfish thinking, focusing and devoting our energy towards the most beautiful and worthwhile thing we have, on the side that is neither "us" nor "them", so much better than all of us, the voiceless, defenseless Wild. Happy Solstice...

OH NO! 26.Dec.2007 03:06

stuffed freddyhead

Damn! I laid this out all nice and neat in separate little paragraphs. What the fuk happened?????????

I HATE TECHNO-INDUSTRIAL CIVILIZATION 26.Dec.2007 04:36

I HATE COMPUTERS

I HATE THE FUCKING INTERNET-domain of lazyass pretentiousfuk talkers, do-nothing button-pushers.....NEVER AGAIN!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

another try - hope this works 26.Dec.2007 21:06

repost

"Know what's at the bottom of all our trouble," my long-gone old friend bellowed above the polluted roar of 6th and Willamette.
I hadn't seen him for a couple of years, since our last ass-kicking. Self-pity suddenly transformed to pity. I thought that I was clearcut bulldozed slash-burned stumpfucked by it. Damn.

"What, pray tell." I really wanted to know. It never occurred to me in my wildest imaginings that i would meet, this very day, somebody who would explain to me what had been bugging me for so very very long, unassuaged by many long lonely walks, unanswered in the mystical shifts in the glowing throbbing embers of endless campfire vigils of many a post-timber-sale wake.

Now the Bringer Of The Answer stood before me, here and now smack-dab in the middle of the very stinking growling belly of the beast itself, swaying and reeking of last night's MD 20/20 ( and night before last night's same substance), manic kaleidoscopic eyes rolling twitching left and right at the endless roaring toxic threat from the many-headed beast of the military/industrial/prison complex writhing in sinister multi-colored gaiety down 6th avenue towards the freeway, propelling the thousands of its wage-slave drones toward the cuboid void of their sheet-rock cells. They needed their rest, to better serve it.

"So what is it pal?" I wasn't about to let The Answer evaporate into the alcohol amytrypilline ethers. "Why can't we get any more help out in the forest? Why is it, no sooner than we get the treesits up and running..."- I could feel my blood pressure going up as when every time i thought, much less spoke about it...-"one arrow, after many stray bullets draws a few drops of blood and EVERYBODY, to a "man" flakes out?!?!," i found myself screaming louder than the present traffic warranted. The gaze he levelled upon me was as sobering as a hanging judge's.

"Because folks are little more than cowards any more these days, TV propagandized fear-freak sheeple fleeing down the path of least resistance from one fear to another, then from that fear to the next, down down and down. He hiccuped, reeled a little. I reached out to catch him but he managed to upright himself. Just one more bottle......"And i ain't just talkin' about our everyday ordinary forest defense fears- freddies and loggers and all their guns and arrows and handcuffs and jail cells, I'm talkin' about the fears driving all the sheeple down to the slaughter-house any more- fear of resistance to Bush and his endless illegal war, fear of unemployment, foreclosure, homelessness, fear of being thrown into the gulag forever for some Republican bastard accusing you of committing some crime you neither committed nor heard of. Hell...," he went on, throwing his hands up in the air, "Folks are afraid of their own fucking shadows any more. Buncha' fuckin' chickenshit bitches. Hope all their yard trees die of blister rust and root-rot, and their children come out deformed from all the spraying. Serve em' right."

The kaleidoscope eyes were flashing red now, the alcohol breath ignitable. Raging dragons are a little out of place these days and i feared for my crazy friend under the baleful glare of slow-moving cops. Sensing the danger himself, he grabbed up his old one-speed, armed with enormous front basket, and wobbled off into the carcinogenic cloud of downtown Green Eugene. Moving targets are harder to hit. Even drunks know this. Especially drunks. "Fucking cowards! Just that plain and simple!," he railed, rolling out of sight. Good luck, Manzanita, you maniac. Upon a time, Cascadia never knew a more energetic hot-blooded visionary forest defender as Manzanita...And look at him now. Cowards indeed. I felt ashamed for that thought, yet i felt slightly short-changed by The Answer. Though so much rang true, there was so much more to it than that.

I see folks being more stand-up and out-spoken than ever these days, folks getting fightin' mad over what bothers THEMSELVES. There seems to be no shortage of courage and bravery when it comes to SELF- defense- seems like everybody's getting into it these days- but how many amongst us cares to defend the voiceless defenseless Wild, that upon which all of our lives in this toxic extractive civilization is built and continuously depends upon? When Freres Lumber or Seneca Sawmills or Rosboro Lumber (or any other Earth Mother rapers) pay the fore$t $ervice or BLM to rape another mountainside of OUR old-growth forests and We The Sheeple stand our shit-caked sorry asses by and let it happen without a fight, then, O.K. Manzanita, you're right- truly, we are cowards- but might i add the simple word "self"? Need we look any further than our own back yard to illustrate this?

It wasn't THAT long ago that we were one of the most awesome fun and effective forest defense communities on the planet, anywhere, ever. When the fore$t $ervice or Buncha' Lyin' Men (BLM) sold one of their typically hideous timber sales of OUR native forests, they and their rich bitch timber industry good ole' boy buddies had us to deal with, and back in them days, us meant Hell. Howl and Growl, Winberry, China Left, Madre' Loca, Fall Creek, Warner Creek (See the movie PickAxe if you havn't yet)- these are just a few of the battles (some victories, some not) that we fought so that wildlife and future generations (as in your kids) will have some tall trees, clean air, fresh water...Wilderness...Now look at us... One of the most awesome fun and effective forest defense communities on the planet anywhere ever has become little more than a pathetic collection of washed-up burnt-out forest defense has-beens (like me), drunks (drunks and more drunks), pretentious-fuk fashion punks, ultra-hard-core (virtually speaking) cyber-warriors... Forest defense pretense has become a regular feel-good/money-maker 'round here these days. Going by all the super hard-core imagery in "the community", the tats, dreddies, piercings, the oh-so-hip ways, the witty fiery rhetoric, you'd think and rest assured that the Old Forest was covered, protected beyond all doubt and fear from The Enemy. Wake up and think again, this time looking past the smoke-screen facade of the typical Eugene pseudo-activist and you'll see what's real- clearcuts and more clearcuts. For the last several years, the fore$t $ervice has been raping OUR native forests out in the McKenzie valley with one timber sale after another- Nugget, Bullet, Kinko, Ridge Cat(s, one and two, whereupon in the steamy serenity of Cougar Hot Springs you could not only hear but FEEL the ancient Grandma trees slamming to the ground-KABOOM!), Willow, Saucer Twister, Flatco, Blue River Face, Sten (just to name a few) with no real resistance from us at all out in the forest (who the fuk ever "us" is any more), unless you want to include me and my friend's pitiful attempts at saving Blue River Face and Sten- "saved" +/- 50 acres at one, almost got our heads blown off at another accomplishing nothing at all.

This shitty state of affairs must end. Cowardice and selfish delusional thinking are status quo modum operandi for most civilized folk these days... -SUPPORT THE TROOPS!- by sacrificing the kid next door to go get his arms blown off for stealing oil to maintain a cheap gas supply for the addicts, more money/control/power for the oligarchs..... -SUPPORT PRO-LIFE!- So unwanted babies can grow up to be society's unwanted people, living and dying in homelessness and poverty. -SAVE THE FOREST!- by hanging out in town having endless fruitless meetings, screaming at buildings, collecting money to maintain the space for all the endless fruitless meetings.... This Spring/Summer (and for several to come) the "Forest Service" and Buncha' Lyin' Men (BLM) are going to inundate us with shit-tons of work- Thousands of acres of OUR native forests are going to be stolen from us by these corporate/government thieves if we don't pull our heads outta' our and one-another's asses and get our eye back on the ball again, making sure it stays in the hands of our REAL forest defenders, both in the courtroom and out in the forest.

Remember the ball? Remember the game?- And by the way- Just whose side are you on? Just because we are stuck in and surrounded by a culture of cowardice and delusional self-obsession doesn't mean that we have to submit and succumb to it, become it. Assimilating with corporate/government-controlled WASP Amoreikkkan police-state self-serve civilization is no way to live, neither for an individual, nor a community. We can do better than to reflect all the hate greed and ugliness around us and rise above fearful selfish thinking, focusing and devoting our energy towards the most beautiful and worthwhile thing we have, on the side that is neither "us" nor "them", so much better than all of us, the voiceless, defenseless Wild. Happy Solstice...

DAMN! HOW DID YOU DO THAT??? 27.Dec.2007 06:44

me again

Hey everybody, sorry about my little " i hate" tirade. I see my work come out looking like a fucking Dr. Bronner's bottle & i gotta' lash out at everybody. Some kind soul, (whom i called a "do-nothing button-pusher") just made my solstice-time a WHOLE LOT brighter. Maybe that button pusher will help me/us with some REAL forest defense in the near future. Maybe i should forget about tying that cinder block to my ankle & jumping into the Willamette, at least not just yet...........

no problem 27.Dec.2007 10:37

Clyde

I liked what I read. You're welcome. Keep fighting the good fight.

how-the-fuk-ever 02.Jan.2008 18:21

did you come up with a name like

Stuffed Freddyhead In Formaldehyde???

YOU ASKED 03.Jan.2008 06:19

me again (and again)

With the squealing screech of long-disused hinges, the heavy oaken door swings open. Through it you enter something far worse than the dark dank dungeon you expected it to be,a ghastly death-scape of raped torn earth and tree stumps as far as the eye can see-huge stumps and more huge stumps, marching up and up scarred mudsliding mountainsides, down and down into mud-choked dead streams.
A loud gurgling noise draws your attention to the barren hilltop directly before you and upon it rests the strangest sight of all. Quickly concealing yourself behind a massive stump, through shaking binoculars a very large glass jar comes into focus. A Medussan tangle of tubes hoses and wires runs from the jar to a buzzing razor wire-encircled control center/power-plant compound at the base of the hill. From this compound runs a wide array of enormous power cables running all throughout the logging area. A serpentine complex of conveyor belts send the logs to the valley below. Still, you can't get your mind off that glass jar and like a mouse to a rattlesnake your attention goes back to the hilltop.An accusing moon frowns through blood-red clouds and in shocking suddenness you behold the jar's contents. Behold the Stuffed Freddyhead In Formaldehyde!
"Get that loader into unit 38 NOW!," it glurbles through the bubbly liquid, into the microphone, through the amplifier, the gargantuan steel-horn speakers towering like sinister toxic trees above the raped hilltop. It turn about facing South and screams, "Goddammit! We don't have all day! Get unit 17 yarded out! We got unit 63 to clearcut today! Hurry up or you're fired!" All the drones (and machinery) down below scurry a little faster with the ultimate wage-slave drone's fear-poverty through unemployment-and the twisted glaring scowl of the Stuffed Freddyhead In Formaldehyde, United $tates Fore$t $ervice Master of Logging Operations of the Three Sisters Wilderness Area, transforms into a leering grimace of a grin, of conquest and greed fulfilled...
Technicians in pea-green polyester lab coats float up, remove the huge jar's lid and open the back of the Freddyhead, revealing an amazing intricacy of wires chips transistors circuit boards servo units, etc. With long tweezers and screwdrivers adjustments are made, more cables are plugged into the Freddyhead and a succession of images, like a slide show, are portrayed upon a giant screen.
The first is an Earth First! blockade (from back in the day that Earth First! actually meant something). Several activists are being pepper-sprayed and dragged away. The next image is a clearcut operation going on around a lone treesitter. Hundreds of acres of freshly clearcut ancient Grandmas lie bleeding and dying beneath the single standing tree in which the sitter is banging on a bucket, raining curses upon the freddies and loggers. "Privileged WASP Earth Mother-rapin' Bush- bitches!!! America is falling and it's because of YOU MONEY-GRUBBING THIEVES CLEARCUTTING IT TO THE GROUND!!! FOES! FLEE OR FIGHT! FOREST SERVICE ECOTERRORISTS IN THE FOREST!!! FOES! FLEE OR FIGHT! BUNCHA' BENT-OVER SOLD-OUT CORPORATE/GOVERNMENT BUSH BITCHES!!! CLEARCUT THE FORE$T $ERVICE! BURY THE BLM!!! -and on and on goes the tirade of a very hoarse- voiced pissed-off treesitter.
This steady rain of curses, laughingly waved off as the ravings of a madman is now eternally imprinted into the freddy's stuffed head, forever haunting him. The adjustments of the technicians have produced an unanticipated and undesirable effect- a conscience based upon memory, and the effects are devastating. "OH NO!," it blurbles, eyes popping out, writhing-lipped mouth agawk in terror, loss, shame shame shame...
"OH NO!" Now a rapid succession of images of his long-drawn freddy career flash before him- pepper-sprays and arm twists here, a beating or two there, body draggings, pilfering then trashing camps, evictions intimidations and general harassments of treesitters, road blockaders, any and all forest defenders trying to save what little is left of our native forests that the corporate/government thieves have not already stolen.
Almost every scene plays out the same- cutting as much as possible before the activists react-dispatching with the activists-completing the clearcut. ABC. This scene begins with a typically beautiful ancient forest. Usnea-laden branches sigh in windswept symphonies of serenity, silence in perfect balance with a jay's chatter, perhaps so much as a hawk's cry. Next (FLASH!), chainsaws are screaming, Grandmas crashing to the ground. A nest of flying squirrels lay dead broken and bleeding amidst a jumble of broken and smashed limbs. Mama squirrel twitches in her death-throes trying to assist her babies. Too late...Too late... The enemy has prevailed...or has it? (FLASH!)
Now the logging road intruding this magical Old Forest has been blockaded by a small band of true American patriots, grimy but grinning anarchists hippies punks & rednecks, chained to an old Cadillac turned sideways. Freddyhead remembers this one well.
They thought "the clearance" would be a breeze, as usual. WRONG. The '69 Cadillac came optionally equipped with about 30-thousand pounds of rocks, rebar, concrete, and three (no less!) well-designed lockdown devices built-in, each complete with growling snarling thoroughly pissed-off activist. Copious swabs of capsicum, arm twistings, threats of eternal federal damnation did nothing to deter the spirits of these patriots, intent on saving this beautiful place for wildlife and future generations. A thud did.
After three days of hunger, sleep deprivation, dehydration, endless harassment by the freddies'megaphones and floodlights (bought by you & me), Hedgehog fell. She fell straight out of the treesit to smash the 19 year-young bones of her body to the road 160 feet below.
With a THUD! numb shock overpowered the activists and they unlocked. The blockade was promptly removed and the beautiful Old Forest, all 227 acres of it, was stolen from us, your kids, those awesome wild critters who depend upon it for their survival. As always, the scene ended with a raped wasted mountainside occupied by legion upon legion of stout little stump soldiers standing at attention to their superiors- corporate/government greed, the privileged WASP manifest destiny of Stuffed Freddyhead in Formaldehyde and all his vile ilk.
SCHWACK!
Hedgehog was never very good with knots. A brand-new (true value!) shovel firmly bungeed to a full shit-bucket, having fallen 154 feet, still accellerating at 33 ft./sec squared, swiftly ended another freddy's career, serving the forest he so dearly loathed.
The cleanness of the cut amazed the EMTs, the doctors and staff at the hospital and morgue. With the family's (cash-bought) permission, the head was preserved in formalin, placed under refrigeration and forgotten about, until now...A new scene is now showing...
It depicts doctors and technicians (the very ones screwing and tweezering on his head right now) removing large sections of his brain and replacing them with computer chips circuit boards servos wires etc. and he finally "gets it".
For all of his years of invaluable and exemplary $ervice-threatenings, beatings, arm-twistings, general harassments and tortures of forest defenders, he is now receiving the ultimate recognition, the ultimate reward, an 11 year stint, 24/7, promotion to United $tate$ Fore$t $ervice Master Of Logging Operations of the Three Sisters Wilderness Area.
"OH NO!!!!!!!" The glass begins to crack. Little toxic drops dribble forth. Power cables spark. OVERLOAD. Yarders and bunchers begin jerking spasmodically. The crack widens. "OH NO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"