On the radio tonight I heard that the Food & Drug Administration (FDA) of the federal government of the United States of America (the fed) is planning to ban trans-fats from foods. I learned something from one of the specialists on the news program: trans-fats are bad because of their tendency to clump and harden within blood vessels, which can cause heart-attacks and disease. We are long overdue in this country for a serious reconsideration of the continued legality and general public acceptance of alcohol as the drug of choice for weddings, funerals, cookouts, romantic encounters, fraternity parties, afternoon outings, Christmases, and New Year's Eves. Deaths in America resulting from the consumption of alcohol outnumber those resulting from the eating of trans-fats by a ratio of 10 to 1, yet alcohol is still legal. Alcohol is involved in most reported cases of domestic violence, yet sports teams across this land proudly play in stadiums built and named by Coors and Busch and their ilk, drug manufacturers and drug distributors who profit from continually undermining the foundations of an orderly and safe society. When soldiers return from war with post traumatic stress disorder, they often reach to alcohol, thus compounding damage already sustained and confounding efforts toward recovery: we owe it to our mentally challenged servicepeople to provide them with treatment and help in their time of need, and the last thing we should be doing is standing idly and feeding them fifths of Beam by as they crawl down the rabbit hole of chronic alcohol intoxication. One avenue for the fed to consider is the Swedish model, which involves making alcohol prohibitively expensive to purchase in the hopes that sticker-shock will keep people from drinking; the other paths for the fed to take is to deregulate and legalize all drugs and get the fuck out of the personal business of 337 million Americans, which however would mean admitting that its meddling and its guidelines and its nitpicking were total crap from the get-go, and that it used tens of trillions of taxpayer dollars to build a massively bloated, heavily armed, hyper-paranoid nanny state. Fuck that noise; it's time for anther motherfucking revolution.
© americanifesto / 場黑麥
Showing posts with label abuse. Show all posts
Showing posts with label abuse. Show all posts
08 November 2013
16 September 2013
on making sense
One part of fulfilling the requirements for certification as a yoga teacher is to read Courage to Heal, by Ellen Bass and Laura Davis. After finishing the first chapter, some things about my life began to make sense, including why I sabotage myself in the opening phases of relationships with beautiful young women and why I am always on edge when men touch me. (I am totally comfortable sleeping next to and in the same bed with my male friends, whom I trust to not violate me, but I find myself reacting violently and forcefully whenever touched by a person I don't fully know or trust.) I have done shameful things in my life, things which only make sense if I was abused as a child too young to talk. I apologize to anyone I might have hurt; please know I was confused and scared and corrupted by the actions of persons older than I was, persons who violated the sanctity of a child's fire and crushed his tender soul. I started confronting these demons during the teacher training in June of this year, but have gradually retreated into the solitude and depression I tend to experience living in this rural backwater. It has been a subtle shift, but I recognize it now, and vow to make my life as fruitful and happy as I can make it by confronting and moving through the shameful thoughts, remembering that I am a survivor, and keeping in touch with the persons my support group. I know not who I will be once the healing really gets going, but the foundations of my soul are built on a rotten core, and so I must dig everything up and start anew. Aho!
© americanifesto / 場黑麥
© americanifesto / 場黑麥
16 July 2012
on holding grudges
Since moving to this small, blue-collar town and making friends with such few open-minded people as here live, I have had the good fortune of making the acquaintance of someone who holds grudges. I say Making The Acquaintance Of instead of Befriend because, just yesterday, this individual chose to respond to my pointing out, in jest, a typo he had made on a popular social-networking-site by compounding this slight jab on top of all of the other confrontations we have had in the last six months and letting the cauldron of hatred that seems to burn within his chest boil over.
It all started about six months ago, when he and I and a few others would go out for friendly disc-golf matches and he began to curse out any other person who made a good throw while also being verbally self-abusive every time he threw poorly, which accounted perhaps for 85% of his attempts. After a couple of afternoons of getting told to go fuck myself and that I was a bastard and a fucking asshole for having thrown a circular piece of plastic through the air in such a was as to have it land close to an upright, basket-equipped metal pole, I told this man – let us call him Wilson – that his negativity was poisoning the group's fun, leading to an overall dampening of of the collective mood, and would he not please keep his anger and resentment to himself and not keep cursing at everybody all the time? Wilson, who claims to be a follower of the One Love mentality espoused by such musicians as Bob Marley, instantly went on the defensive, causing everyone so much grief for the next few days that the others in our disc-golfing group and I decided it best not to invite him to our friendly matches anymore, given his proclivity to whine, moan, and belly-ache every time someone did well or he did not.
The second major confrontation between this worthless whorphan and Mr. Wilson came about two months ago, when, after he had been telling a story to me and a number of other people during a weekend bout of drinking, I cautioned him to wear sunblock if he should happen to be out in the sun for the amount of time he had claimed to be in his story. Being from Western Africa and having relatively dark skin, Wilson became once again defensive, immediately and with great passion calling into doubt my knowledge of What It Means To Be Black (whatever that means), even asking me if I, in my life, had ever been black, or if I had ever seen the masses of his fellow Africans all out perambulating in the sun lacking hats or long-sleeved shirts, in far more words telling me that I did not know what the fuck it was I was talking about. Never backing down from my position, I pointed out to Wilson that, since he is a human being and since all human skin can suffer skin cancer if exposed too long to solar radiation, he would do well to protect his skin from the sun so as to lead a long and healthy life, whereupon he began to curse me and to call me many bad names, puffing up his chest and treating me with much disdain for a number of weeks after that.
Having pondered my actions and deciding it best for me to keep my dumb fucking mouth shut, I have done just that, staying quiet and not seeking fault with the man, letting him espouse whatever strange and nonsensical views he, a grown adult, should wish to espouse. Sensing that Wilson seemed to be doing the same – generally ignoring me and not spending too much time in my presence – and seeing that we had sat together amiably during a get-together on the 4th of July, I figured that, just as I had done, he had laid aside any past grievances and gotten over any latent animosity toward this corn-fed white boy. In response, however, to a jab, a pointing out of a word he had misspelled on-line, that word being “the,” he launched into a litany of hatred against me, saying to an intermediary that I would get what I deserved for being so know-it-all and smarmy toward him, and that this my latest latest slight was simply too much, one of too many twigs thrown atop the teetering stack of hate-sticks he seems to have been carrying around with him since that one fateful day of disc-golfing.
While I do not fear the man physically, I have come to fear the human ego in general, and to keep a sharp eye out for a bruised ego, which is prone to extraordinary violence, to stabbing persons in the back and letting the air out of their bicycle tires. In the wake of Wilson un-friending of me on Facebook over the weekend, I could perhaps try to arrange a sit-down with him, a having-it-out session during which he might be able to call me all the names he wants to and, perhaps by letting go of his hatred and allowing it to flow from himself mightily, to dislodge some of the sand that has become trapped in his vagina; I might as well do nothing, however, since I cannot in any way control how Wilson reacts to my words or presence. He is a big boy, and he has the power to decide for himself when to be angry and when to be contented, when to fill his being with hatred, and when to let One Love infect every ounce of his soul. Three cheers for keeping quiet! Mahalo.
場黑麥 mentiri manufactorem fecit
It all started about six months ago, when he and I and a few others would go out for friendly disc-golf matches and he began to curse out any other person who made a good throw while also being verbally self-abusive every time he threw poorly, which accounted perhaps for 85% of his attempts. After a couple of afternoons of getting told to go fuck myself and that I was a bastard and a fucking asshole for having thrown a circular piece of plastic through the air in such a was as to have it land close to an upright, basket-equipped metal pole, I told this man – let us call him Wilson – that his negativity was poisoning the group's fun, leading to an overall dampening of of the collective mood, and would he not please keep his anger and resentment to himself and not keep cursing at everybody all the time? Wilson, who claims to be a follower of the One Love mentality espoused by such musicians as Bob Marley, instantly went on the defensive, causing everyone so much grief for the next few days that the others in our disc-golfing group and I decided it best not to invite him to our friendly matches anymore, given his proclivity to whine, moan, and belly-ache every time someone did well or he did not.
The second major confrontation between this worthless whorphan and Mr. Wilson came about two months ago, when, after he had been telling a story to me and a number of other people during a weekend bout of drinking, I cautioned him to wear sunblock if he should happen to be out in the sun for the amount of time he had claimed to be in his story. Being from Western Africa and having relatively dark skin, Wilson became once again defensive, immediately and with great passion calling into doubt my knowledge of What It Means To Be Black (whatever that means), even asking me if I, in my life, had ever been black, or if I had ever seen the masses of his fellow Africans all out perambulating in the sun lacking hats or long-sleeved shirts, in far more words telling me that I did not know what the fuck it was I was talking about. Never backing down from my position, I pointed out to Wilson that, since he is a human being and since all human skin can suffer skin cancer if exposed too long to solar radiation, he would do well to protect his skin from the sun so as to lead a long and healthy life, whereupon he began to curse me and to call me many bad names, puffing up his chest and treating me with much disdain for a number of weeks after that.
Having pondered my actions and deciding it best for me to keep my dumb fucking mouth shut, I have done just that, staying quiet and not seeking fault with the man, letting him espouse whatever strange and nonsensical views he, a grown adult, should wish to espouse. Sensing that Wilson seemed to be doing the same – generally ignoring me and not spending too much time in my presence – and seeing that we had sat together amiably during a get-together on the 4th of July, I figured that, just as I had done, he had laid aside any past grievances and gotten over any latent animosity toward this corn-fed white boy. In response, however, to a jab, a pointing out of a word he had misspelled on-line, that word being “the,” he launched into a litany of hatred against me, saying to an intermediary that I would get what I deserved for being so know-it-all and smarmy toward him, and that this my latest latest slight was simply too much, one of too many twigs thrown atop the teetering stack of hate-sticks he seems to have been carrying around with him since that one fateful day of disc-golfing.
While I do not fear the man physically, I have come to fear the human ego in general, and to keep a sharp eye out for a bruised ego, which is prone to extraordinary violence, to stabbing persons in the back and letting the air out of their bicycle tires. In the wake of Wilson un-friending of me on Facebook over the weekend, I could perhaps try to arrange a sit-down with him, a having-it-out session during which he might be able to call me all the names he wants to and, perhaps by letting go of his hatred and allowing it to flow from himself mightily, to dislodge some of the sand that has become trapped in his vagina; I might as well do nothing, however, since I cannot in any way control how Wilson reacts to my words or presence. He is a big boy, and he has the power to decide for himself when to be angry and when to be contented, when to fill his being with hatred, and when to let One Love infect every ounce of his soul. Three cheers for keeping quiet! Mahalo.
場黑麥 mentiri manufactorem fecit
11 September 2011
on nine eleven
On this day we mark a decade since the events surrounding the 11th of September, 2001. Many changes have taken place in our nation since that bright summer day, some that restrict us in our liberty, others that inconvenience to little noticeable advantage. Absent clear and defining purpose, we have foundered collectively among the shoals of short-sightedness and greed, bruised badly by the false promise of unlimited consumer credit, our public figures beating the drums of nationalism and xenophobia in tones ever more vituperative and religious, the cultural diversity of our peoples muted by creeping corporate homogenization, our inventiveness forgotten in the face of gadgets that rarely prove convenient to the economics of time, our artistic creativity lost in the mirror-maze of sequels, mash-ups, and gimmickry, our citizens willfully abusing the national flag in misguided attempts to prove to others their patriotism, that deep and pure sense of pride that shines most brightly when it is cultivated within the confines of the heart, a sense that shrinks when displayed too prominently.
My the people who died on that September day not so long ago continue to rest in peace.
Ultima Ratio Regum - 場黑麥 John Paul Roggenkamp
I was in Manhattan that day; I volunteered three days later in the dust and wreckage blanketing the North Cove; I lost a fraternity brother who had just started work high up in the North Tower. But, then as now, I will never succumb to fear, never believe in America-über-alles, never discriminate against someone because of their choice of religion, never accept torture as a means necessary to the common defense, never disgrace the Stars and Stripes to prove to another my love for country, and never cease in my attempts to secure the Blessings of Liberty to myself, my brothers and sisters, and our Posterity.
My the people who died on that September day not so long ago continue to rest in peace.
Ultima Ratio Regum - 場黑麥 John Paul Roggenkamp
05 September 2011
on free and ancient medicines
Sickness, like death, is a condition every living body must occasionally endure. Ailments come and go, ravaging this organ or that, sometimes effecting permanent damage, sometimes only causing the nodes to swell and the skin to appear loose and bloodless. In response to states of sickness, many Americans resort to traditional Western remedies passed down through the centuries, remedies designed to treat rather than to prevent. Often, these remedies fall short, their powers too weak to reverse the affects of neglect, procrastination, or downright abuse. With a significant portion of the American public lacking proper health coverage (see here), we are now witnessing twofold: steady increases in the costs of medical care (see here); growing numbers of individuals who, for whatever reasons, have allowed their potentially preventable conditions to become full-blown disorders (see here).
Yet the individual is not solely to blame – the political leaders of this country have too long focused on their own re-elections and on fulfilling the demands of their friends and allies, forgetting that the sole expressed purpose of government, the only justifiable reason for its existence, is to make the American people Safe and Happy. Good health is the foundation upon which all actions and aspirations are built; it is a component central to the industrial, artistic, and spiritual endeavors that nourish us in body and mind; without good health, safety is a cruel and clumsy lie, happiness but a distant memory of better and brighter days.
We could seek assistance in these matters from our elected officials; we could demand that our government provide ceaselessly for the general Welfare; we could rise up and say, “Happiness and Safety mean little if our bodies are weak and failing.” However, we would be fools to expect measured and timely response from houses and chambers that have too long now stopped their ears to the needs of the body politic while they with golden horns trumpet the causes and interests of an affluent plutocracy that now considers itself the rightful recipient of a disproportionately large portion of this nation's wealth.
Rather than relying on intervention or assistance from without, let us take matters into our own hands, and educate ourselves to the healing powers of common plants. What many have been told to eradicate are in reality species both hardy and ubiquitous, plants that spring readily from the soil in most any temperate zone. Among these plants are: plantago lanceolata, plantago major, woodsorrels (oxalis acetosella), salvia officinalis, and the lowly dandelion. Among the benefits gained from the proper use of these plants are: lower blood pressure, rapid external wound healing, self-dissolution of bladder and gall stones, purified kidneys, cleansed livers, a strengthened immune system, reduced arthritic swelling, cleared sinuses, and soothed bronchial tubes.
Yet the individual is not solely to blame – the political leaders of this country have too long focused on their own re-elections and on fulfilling the demands of their friends and allies, forgetting that the sole expressed purpose of government, the only justifiable reason for its existence, is to make the American people Safe and Happy. Good health is the foundation upon which all actions and aspirations are built; it is a component central to the industrial, artistic, and spiritual endeavors that nourish us in body and mind; without good health, safety is a cruel and clumsy lie, happiness but a distant memory of better and brighter days.
We could seek assistance in these matters from our elected officials; we could demand that our government provide ceaselessly for the general Welfare; we could rise up and say, “Happiness and Safety mean little if our bodies are weak and failing.” However, we would be fools to expect measured and timely response from houses and chambers that have too long now stopped their ears to the needs of the body politic while they with golden horns trumpet the causes and interests of an affluent plutocracy that now considers itself the rightful recipient of a disproportionately large portion of this nation's wealth.
Rather than relying on intervention or assistance from without, let us take matters into our own hands, and educate ourselves to the healing powers of common plants. What many have been told to eradicate are in reality species both hardy and ubiquitous, plants that spring readily from the soil in most any temperate zone. Among these plants are: plantago lanceolata, plantago major, woodsorrels (oxalis acetosella), salvia officinalis, and the lowly dandelion. Among the benefits gained from the proper use of these plants are: lower blood pressure, rapid external wound healing, self-dissolution of bladder and gall stones, purified kidneys, cleansed livers, a strengthened immune system, reduced arthritic swelling, cleared sinuses, and soothed bronchial tubes.
These plants go wherever the soil has been split or abused, crushed or laid bare by the passing of many feet, and at the edges of forests and pathways. They do not require regular care or special attention, and will grow in the least likely of places. When harvested at the proper time and consumed in the correct fashion (as teas, syrups, spreads, or powders), they can provide relief from many and various common conditions, from upset stomach and diarrhea to headaches, skin rashes, gout, and ill affects stemming from menopause.
If the healing plants are consumed regularly, they can help the human body to run smoothly and efficiently, managing the frequency and severity of ailments rather than addressing them when they have become problematic. Unlike pharmaceutical agents, the side-affects associated with the healing plants are either mild or non-existent, which all but eliminates the probability of wrecking one's liver in the pursuit of, say, lower blood pressure. Unlike newer methods of treatment relied upon today, the healing power of these plants has been known to wise-men, shamans, and philosophers in many different regions across the globe for close to a thousand years. So powerful are they that even the beasts of marsh and field use them.
Americans, awake! No longer must you suffer from lack of medical care. No longer must you live in pain or discomfort because you cannot afford your pills. No longer must you live in fear of sickness, hoping against hope that the inevitable will not occur, cursing big pharma and wishing that your elected officials had done more to fulfill the parameters of the Constitution. With the healing plants, you can conquer disease, cure ailments, and bring your body back into the harmony that nature readily and freely provides.
For wherever the earth's abused and ignored, there grow leaves that heal and reward.
場黑麥 John Paul Roggenkamp
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