A Change of Luck

The Hypnotist

My Grandfather brought most of his family to America in the 20’s. He had fought for the Germans in WWI and he and my Grandmother survived that and the 1918 Pandemic. Not long after arriving in the US, the Stock Market Crash of 1929 happened. My Aunt was brought over to America in the 30’s (back then the boys came over first, so my Aunt stayed right up until the first hint of WWII was imminent). My Father survived landing on the beach at Normandy in WWII.

My Mothers family were from Bow and Hammersmith in London – and they escaped the German bombing with nothing but the clothes on their backs – and ended up in Torquay, Devon (a very nice place to end up in BTW). I still have many relatives in the UK and in Germany – and have visited them in the past.

These days feel terrible in the US. When I think of what my family went through – any one of these things were worse than what is happening now in the US. That is not to say its a wonderful, glorious time – but I truly believe we are going through a time more like the late 60’s – and that yes, there will be riots and civil unrest – but like the 60’s, they will lead to a relatively more quiet time. The idiots who are causing these problems will be dead soon or too old to continue this bullshit. The minority rule we have today will crumble – and will be replaced by a country that is more diverse and multi-cultural than ever.

But first – we have to get past what I think is the “last bastion of white nationalism”.

Our lucks gotta change
We’ve been through a lot

These are strange times
They won’t last forever

A tale of two cities
A divided country


A change of luck
Is in the wind

You Must Cultivate Your Own Garden

Canadian Thistles

We all only live for so many years. Anything that scared us – like the current trashing of America and American politics or anything else in the news – won’t matter.

So, will anything matter?

Yes, but only what you did or who you meant something to who will carry a fragment of you – in their memory. Maybe you left some digital crumbs behind like photography or music . . . 

Voltaire Said you must cultivate your own garden. That expression is very helpful these days. Time to tend to my own garden.

Fight the ugliness in life with art, creativity, compassion and being a good world citizen. I’ve given up on God – but do think there still is Karma – and that its built in to the plan of our own actions and deeds. 

Enter The Heathengelicals

At The New Altar . . .

Praise the Lard!
Pass the ammo,
The Heathengelicals are here
Hark the herald heathens sing
Hark the herald heathens sing
For Putin puppeteer

Christ Incorporated
Liberty U
Let shots of freedom ring
Pool boy stud
Falwell watching
Falwell watching
Swingers like to schwing!

Hold the bible
Upside down
At St. Peters Church
On his honor
Do his doodie
Do his doodie
Decockracy besmirched

Welcome Autumn

Autumn in Northern California is subtle

I grew up in Northern NJ where the Fall Colors we’re usually quite good. I do remember some years people would complain that we had only yellow leaves or a big rainstorm ended the Fall colors too early. I also remember how it would then turn grey and cold and that snow at least made it less grey out.

Rust and copper colored flowers amongst the white

On my daily bike ride I see lots of subtle but gorgeous fall colors here in The East Bay. Because so many trees are landscape trees, we do get nice fall colors and they last for September through almost Christmas.

I think I’ll turn off all news now that RBG has passed and things will get even nastier politically. At this point I think the most important thing that can happen is the Democrats flip the Senate. Luckily, the Supreme Court has ruled against Trump in several cases, so he knows he doesn’t own the court system. Maybe this is the only reason why he will be blocked from becoming a dictator?

Anyway, it’s almost Fall, and I won’t let Trump bother me any more. I only have my vote, and I have generously donated to Biden / Harris.

It’s time to take in the beauty of fall, and I’m praying that the worst of fire season is over. Bring on the beauty of fall.

The Squib

The Squib!

Lets take a dada-ist look at Donald Trumps goofy rug – I call it The Squib!

That thing on Donald Trumps head
Has a life of its own
It wants to be cloned

Neither man nor beast
That yellow sewn on rug
On that ugly orange mug

That tuft will revolt
Walk off from its job
Leave that fat racist slob


The Squib gets paid
Minimum wage
On Donald’s head
When the money runs out
The Squib will flee
From its Trumpian dread

Icarus Complex (The Daedalus Myth)

Don’t fly too high or too low . . .

The last few posts, I found some truth amongst the horror we have experienced the past four years. I realize that this truly is all a game – a ruse – one that has cost the US – but one that won’t ruin us. I’ve never been a protester – or even a punk – although I admire those who are – but I have found that taking some bad news story of the day and relating it back to Greek Mythology – or even Christian Mythology is comforting – mainly because it reminds me that this is not the first time the world has experienced this sort of horror.

Over confident
Under competent
How the story goes

Don’t fly too high
Don’t fly too low
Heed my advice

Your hubris
And over confidence
You’ll pay the ultimate price


He flew too high

He flew too low



Today felt like the world was ending. The sky was a menacing dark orange all day


Its dark in the corners

Its dark outside




Man in the Bottle

An amazing reflection in a bottle this past winter . . .

Uncork this bottle
Let me out
I’ll stay quiet
I won’t shout

Was the best of times
In my cocoon
Like a genie
On the moon

Magic potion
Cast a spell
Make a wish
In the well


These are the good old days
Count my blessings
A thousand ways
These are the good old days

Old Ghost

Shadows of Your Past

History repeats
They always say
Time in a bottle
Another cliche

The ticking of the clock
The tocking of the tick
The past is such a jumble
Like a cosmic trip

Memories come back
Throw you off your track
When you reminisce
Your mind starts playing tricks


It creeps up fast
You’re the unwilling Host
Shadows of your past
The forgotten Holy Ghost

King of Kings

We continue to suffer for His sins

As much as I try so hard to keep politics out of my blogs – my art has been in “Resistance Mode” for 3 1/2 years. My challenge – to myself – has been to try and take the lesson we learn from Monster Trump as a Future Warning – and then cast that lesson as either and echo of some religious book of knowledge (aka “Religious Screed”), or somehow cast the moral of the story to a fable or fairy tale. 

Todays Sermon – from on High in my Garage Recording Studio (“man cave”) is from Jimmy Cliff:

“The Harder They Come, The Harder They Fall”.  The “twist” is that Power is a Drug – injected into the veins – creates Monsters of Epic Proportion. 

King of Kings

The king of kings
We suffer for your sins
But you keep on sinnin’
And you keep on grinnin’

Nailed by the king
Gold spike in your arm
You say it’s alright
It can do no harm

Celebrity life
You had it all
One bad move …
You lost it all


Its lonely at the top
You’re gunnin’ for the long haul
The higher you are
The farther you fall