The Dogs of Crystal Spring Catte Farm

The Dogs of Crystal Spring Catte Farm

The Dogs of Crystal Spring Cattlle Farm
Every year by Bow Creek
On the old Rundle farmstead
You’ll see a lot of dogs
Well behaved a nicely fed
Yes, just about every year
Come mid-June-a
You can meet Harley
You can see Luna
If you come
If you tarry
Pleased say how-do
To our friend Harry
This year, from the east coast
Come Mr. Max
His owner was friendly
As wa\ere the four-legged Jack’s
The two-legged Jack had no pup
Because it wasn’t handy
But he saw Eugene and Patches
And the canine grand dame, Miss Mandy
There was big old spotted Oliver
And bringing such good cheer
Was the happy but tiny
Son-of-a-gun, Root Beer
It was fun
But after many did cry
When we heard
Frisco had gone
To that big lawn in the sky
But come next year,
We’ll all have a smile on our face
When the Rundle cousins and dogs
Meet at the grand old home place



Sterling Calls Bundy

Sterling Calls Bundy

Donald Sterling Calls Cliven Bundy
“Hello, Mr. Bundy? This is Donald Sterling.”
“Donald Sterling. I own the L.A. Clippers.”
“That a barbershop in Los Angeles? If it is, it’s too far for me to drive to get my hair cut.”
“It’s a basketball team.”
“Don’t them Negroes play that a lot?”
“Exactly, Mr. Bundy. I pay those blacks a lot and they’re still mad.”
“I bet they’d be happier playing for free and raising chicken. I mean I’m just wondering that.”
“I wonder that too. But some others owners are blacks…and, well, you know how sensitive those people can get.”
“Boy, do I, Mr. Sterling!”
“Yeah, you understand. Here’s my problem. I allegedly to my alleged girlfriend that I did not want her seen with black men.”
“That sounds like dern lawyer talk to me.”
“It is damn lawyer talk. But it’s on tape and people have heard it. I could get my ass sued. What you gonna do, Mr. Bundy?”
“Cliven; call me Cliven.
“OK. Call me Don. Like I said, Cliven, what you gonna do?”
“If you want my advice, don’t recognize no court. I ain’t in twenty years and I ain’t paid the so-called Gubment.”
“Can’t do that now, I recognized it too long.”
“Say I opened your eyes. People respect me but don’t trust Sean Hannity. “
“I don’t trust anyone in the damn media.”
“Ain’t that the gospel truth?”
“I’m Jewish but I get your point. We could be soul brothers, you and me. That’s why I want you to come with me to a game. Then I want you to say I’m not a bigot and I’ll say you’re not one. Then you say Martin Luther King would understand anyone who thought like I allegedly do. And we both win.”
“I thought only them Negroes could be soul brothers. I think they have a trademark on that phrase. I’ll come but can I bring my bodyguard? He’s colored.”
“I don’t care as long as you don’t put it on Facebook. And you can’t bring guns. The NBA won’t like that if you do.”’
“Dagnabbit! How about a dead calf, Don?”
“I’ll check and call you back, Cliven. Bye”
“Have a good one, Don!”


A Call to Action

A Call to Action

The Annie Project: The Willful Starvation and Neglect of Persons with Disabilities by Caregivers
A Call for a Multi-Disciplinary Approach to Understanding, Preventing and Healing It As Well As Punishing and Rehabilitating Those Who Commit It
Euthanasia or mercy killing has two forms: active and passive. In its active formed who person who is dying, undergoing tremendous mental or physical pain or severely disabled and deemed to have a lower quality of life and/or be burden to others is killed instantly. This can be done by gunshot, stabbing or other violent methods. (I consider administrating lethal overdose violence.) Active euthanasia is quick, decisive and irreversible. Under the name of assisted suicide it is gaining acceptance. One state, Oregon, has legalized it.
It is the position of the Catholic Church that active euthanasia, call it what you like, is evil. It is the position of activists with disabilities and their allies that it is a threat to them because they fear voluntary euthanasia will one day be mandatory. An American group, Not Dead Yet, holds this view. As a Catholic with two severe disabilities, I accept the Church’s teaching and Not Dead Yet’s stance.
However, passive euthanasia is my concern here. It sickens me.
In the mid-nineties, I read a news report about a young girl named Annie Marshall. This child, fourteen with cerebral palsy and vision problems, had been starved to death by her mother in their Florida home. Her corpse weighed fewer than thirty pounds. The story hit me in the gut and still does.
But I have since learned that the willful starvation of Marshall was not unique. It happens a lot and is one form of passive Euthanasia.
Starvation, of course, results when the body gets little or no food for a prolonged time, gradually leading to death. It is slow, not decisive and is reversible. But by all accounts, causes extreme and agonizing suffering. Active euthanasia is by no means a humane act but in my view, it is less inhumane than the passive form.
As of April 23, 2014, I have collected more than three dozen cases of people with disabilities being starved by caregivers, mostly their own biological parents and mostly resulting in death. These cases came from web searches. Most happened in the U.S. between 1995 and this year.
I am by training a journalist. I am neither a physical nor social scientist, but when I scan my macabre chronicle of the bestial treatment of children and adults by their caregivers, I conclude this is a sin, a crime a trauma to its victims and the result of some pathology in its perpetuators. All of those aspects of this pheromone deserve study.
As I said, I ask question and write about the answers I get. That is what a journalist does in essence. I have many questions about this. I don’t know how to get the answers.
However, I have an audacious proposal: the Annie Project. The Annie Project would study passive euthanasia from a variety of angles: medical, psychological, sociological, legal, criminal and perhaps theological and/or philosophical.
Who would fund this project it? I don’t know. How much would it cost it? I don’t know. Where would its staff come from? I don’t know. How long would it take? I don’t know. Then why do it?
I can answer that. It is an evil and a threat both to human life and dignity. It is something we need to fight but before you fight anything or anyone, you must follow one rule: know your enemy.
Knowing your enemy means gathering information about it. What causes people to starve their own children? If they survive, what do the victims need to cope and recover? Can this crime b be prevented and how? What do we do to the perps?
Again, I have the questions but not the answers, which is why the Annie projected is needed. A simple thought experiment will show I am right.
Close your eyes and picture yourself as, say, an eight-year-old. You’re on a urine-soaked bed covered with dried feces. You can’t get up. When you cry for fo0d, which you need desperately, either no one comes or when they do, th4y beat you. Wouldn’t you want help? Now open your eyes. Do you have any knowledge that might help an actual eight-year-old in that position? If so, won’t you try to help?
Thank you.


A Poem for Our Time

A Poem for Our Time

A Poem for Our Time
I heard about him
I heard about Cliven Bundy
Heard about him Friday
Heard about him on Monday
Heard about him waging
An epic freedom battle
Heard about him mooching
Not paying to graze cattle
Heard Fox news say
He was fighting the fascists
Heard MSNBC call him nothing
But a no account racist
But the day did come
When things went too far
I heard his blasted name
On good old NPR
On Cliven Bundy
This what I say
Don’t love or hate the bigoted fool
But why won’t he go away?




St. Peter Explains the Wedding at Cana

Cana? Sure I remember that

It was two-three days after the Lord call Andy and me, Bart and Nate, Jim and John

This guy, Moses, got married

The Lord and his knew him and the Lord liked him

He said “This will be my last time I’ll have a chance to relax; let’s go!”

So we went

Well, it was a big wedding; Moses had money, which none of us did

But Moses and the Lord had grown up together and his mother and Mary, our Lady, were close, real close

So there we were, us guys and the Master, just eating, talking and laughing

The Lord was telling stories, some of which became parables later on

But they were jokes then and we were laughing and the Lord was too

He was a relaxed as we ever saw Him

But our Lady came up and said: “They have no more wine, son”

He looked at her and said: “Don’t bother me; my hour has not yet come”

John says He said: “Woman, how does this concern me?”

But Andy and I heard “Don’t bother me”

You know what she did? She turned to a servant and said:

“Do whatever He tells you”

Now, you have to understand Mary, his mother, always knew He could do anything and

She knew how He loved Moses and He knew she knew so He got up

John and I got up too and followed Him

We went in a small room where there were six big containers for water

He told four servants to fill them up

That took awhile but they did it

Then He said: “Draw some out and take it to the head servant”

We all followed and Mary found us and came too

This fat gut took a taste and called Moses over and told him:

“Most guys serve the good stuff first; then they serve cheap stuff after most are a bit tipsy

But you have the best for last and this nitwit said we were out!”

Moses raised his eyebrows at Jesus

Jesus gave him a wink

He turned to his mom and said: “Anything else, Mother?”

She said: “That will do, Son, that will do”

John and I whispered to the guys what had happened

Nate said: “Who is He?”John said: “I don’t know but I believe in Him”

We all nodded; things were never the same after that day