LT Saloon

I can’t even begin to compare all the other free interstates I travel and the Thruway favorably. Hell, I can’t compare the toll-based Massachusetts Turnpike and the Thruway favorably. Hands down the Thruway is the most expensive and worst kept of all these high speed, multiple lane, roads I traverse so frequently. The Mass. Pike is far superior; and that state decided a number of years ago that the Western end of the state was suffering economically so they took off the tolls to boost the economy. It worked.

But don’t ever expect such rational thought in action from the pols in NY. The Mohawk Valley/Leatherstocking/Finger Lake region has been in economic Hell since I lived there in the 70s. But here’s the problem: the Thruway is a cash cow and NY pols are like political Hindus unwilling to sacrifice this divine bovine.

I remember my father told me, “Son, by the time you’ve been driving a few years, in the 70s, the Thruway will have been paid for. And NY has promised to make it free.”

Even my Conservative Dad chuckled at the irony by the time 80s rolled around and money from the Thruway started being diverted to odd projects, like a boat that gives the public tours on their own historical canals. Well, at least since we already paid for it with tolls, it’s free… right?

Are you kidding? When there’s a chance to worship another possible cash cow?

Then my father-in-law told me in 2000 it would be free.

Never guess what? Yup! Free? No way. Tolls jacked up to stupid? Yes, Sir. For my small tour bus: 23ft. motorhome towing a Nissan truck, they used to charge almost 3 times what’s an already outlandish rate… and charge for the truck as if I were driving it. Close to 4 times the rate overall. The last year I had that bus up there an attendant at a toll booth warned me by next year it would more than double. Never guess what never goes beyond northeast Ohio these days?

And big business has joined in the act. On the Thruway you’re stuck with “small” companies like McDonalds and high gas prices from the likes of Sunoco, for instance. You have no where else to go unless you get off. Get back on and you lose all financial incentive. It’s easy to tell that’s intentional.

The New York State Thruway is a perfect example of why sometimes it’s best if government; on a national scale, provide services directly, and also be in the business of regulating big business rather than being buddy buddy with them. Why? Because encouraging them to join hands simply encourages more ripping off of us; the consumers. When they are at odds maybe they can keep each other in line, if only a little. And it’s also a long term example of why, sometimes, it’s just better if government does it.

I know that’s an unpopular opinion these days.

But it’s the truth.

-30-

Inspection is a column that has been written by Ken Carman for over 30 years. Inspection is dedicated to looking at odd angles, under all the rocks and into the unseen cracks and crevasses that constitute the issues and philosophical constructs of our day: places few think, or even dare, to venture.

© Copyright 2010
Ken Carman and Cartenual Productions
All Rights Reserved

Through the years he brought his chicken truck up to my property where Millie, my wife, and I used to hold a yearly bash called “A Homebrew and a Song Party.” I would brew beer, fellow songwriters played their songs, tours were given of a nearby cave and Drew broasted well over 200 pieces of chicken. If not for Drew Patterson there would have no broasted chicken throughout most of the South.

He was always the biggest hit of the party. Long before a date was settled I would have friends ask if Drew was going to be there. As well as the trailer with the broasting equipment set up: ready to go, he also had an El Camino with a huge chicken in the bed… it’s head hanging over the cab of the El Camino. When he went down the road the chicken’s eyes lit up.

Marvelous. Absolutely marvelous.

I remember the house he shared in Nashville with a lot of people. To me he always seemed like the house-father who listened to people’s troubles and helped them out all he could. But I couldn’t remember the name of the street. The day before publication I received this note from Natalie Bradley…

“Vickie and Drew headed up the Primrose House in Nashville, which took in strays like me, needing a place to call home with people that loved us unconditionally. It was there I was able to heal, get myself back together, and make it back to school to finish my degree.”

That was Drew: an enabler of the good; always the good.

When he moved to Louisville, KY he invited me up to perform at that UU church: the one downtown. I remember meeting many of his talented friends including John Gage: a Louisville phenomenon, and phenomena. Since that night he has included his very talented sons to help paint wider, more complex, more beautiful pictures with his songs. One of the last conversations Drew and I had was regarding just how incredibly talented they all were.

Drew Patterson was a member of the Kentucky Religious Coalition for Reproductive Choice.  He escorted at Planned Parenthood. Drew was also an Honorable Kentucky Colonel, an ordained Humanist and a card carrying member of the ACLU.

To say Drew had more than a few friends is far too modest. And all he did to help others always brought him more.

 He was telling me, when I saw him last, that he was helping his more musical friends in Louisville broadcast a show to showcase their talents. As far as I know Drew played nothing, but had respect and a love of those who played good music. We were both Harry Chapin fans. Here he is with his friends, many who went out the last night I saw him to have pizza, celebrate their lives and have John Gage add his special music talents to the event.

You can’t write about Drew Patterson without mentioning Vickie Miller Patterson, his wife, to the right in both pictures.

Without fail they both described each other as “the love of my life.” They first fell in love at an early age. There was no doubt that the two “were as one,” in so many ways. And despite Drew’s passing after a planned surgery procedure intended to extend his life, they will always be together. Nothing can get between them, not even the last beats of a passionate heart.

The causes he supported were many. He loathed religious intolerance. He was an escort for a abortion clinic in downtown Louisville, KY. A very passionate man we butted heads more than a few times regarding poltics, although we generally agreed. Religion? Much the same.

A few weeks ago I stopped and stayed the night. He took me out to Sergio’s: a multi-tap bar, because I wanted to to a column on them. He held bottles for me to photograph, and opened doors. In fact: that was Drew; opening doors for other people… a far, far less than selfish life, well led.

I will miss him.

During that visit he mentioned that he was going in for elective surgery to help a heart condition: something his wife, Vickie, was worried about.

“She’s more worried than I am. I just figure ‘whatever happens, happens.’”

That was Drew. Whether protecting patients, or supporting good music, or understanding the passions of others, Drew opened doors and went through them. But this operation was the final door for him…  in this life.

He will be missed: more than he, or his wife Vickie, or even his many freinds, could have imagined.

-30-

Inspection is a column that has been written by Ken Carman for over 30 years. Inspection is dedicated to looking at odd angles, under all the rocks and into the unseen cracks and crevasses that constitute the issues and philosophical constructs of our day: places few think, or even dare, to venture.

© Copyright 2010
Ken Carman and Cartenual Productions
All Rights Reserved

This link leads a page featuring  a story which includes an interview with Drew regarding his escort work.

As many of you know we live near Nashville, TN, as well as have a home in the Adirondacks where we will go when we retire: move back to. Nashville was swamped by rain recently. We couldn’t get out for almost three days: no power for a week; phone out a few days longer. When Millie got back; irony obvious, she had a… flood… of calls complaining about services. Recycle carts floated away, brush not picked up because the street was flooded. Some who call this “help line” are rational and understand… there are limitations and rules. Others are of a different nature.

Millie takes their calls; from the nice, to bad… to the very, very ugly and seemingly mentally challenged… and I mean that as no dig against those who really are mentally challenged: just those who act that way when they really aren’t.

Over the years she had worked her way up to office manager, but the budget cuts hit and she was downgraded to office support specialist II. Sound fancy? Not really. She gets to hear all the complaints and questions, which include everything from sane, to not so sane; to those who are either attempting to con their way into service they are not supposed to receive. And, of course, you also have those who seem to simply lack something upstairs; above the neck and the chin: just barely above and behind the nose.

The calls can get pretty absurd… “What do you mean I can’t put my dead cats in the recycle bin?” “Why can’t I put leaky antifreeze containers out to the curb…” (Maybe why the cats died?)

   We were talking about that as I drove her to work during the flood and I had a flash of intuition. Many of her worst calls are understandable from a human perspective, yet I was guessing the worst ones were those who will never be satisfied because, while demanding more and better services…and they also are the same type of folks who demand cut backs and tax breaks that force more cut backs. So I asked…

Back to more… legitimate??? …research. Yeah, I provided more than the standard quantity of question marks because “legitimate” and “the web” often can be, like the extreme northern and southern points on the globe, polar opposites.

One link regarding profanity brought me to a statement, as a former English major, I knew was inaccurate. Yes, Shakespeare did used cursing and vulgarity: but “beard” was only superficially a reference to facial hair as suggested by that source. It was really a reference to the hair that makes up what some have referred to “American Pie,” from the movie of that name. In other words: the exterior hair on the most southward, frontal, sex organ on a woman.

Now why we curse should be an easy target… even for the web. For the most part it’s simply venting anger or angst… or accentuating a situation or phrase, and not much more. For some cursing becomes a means for communication so important English almost becomes a second language. That’s usually not a good thing.

I suspect ever since humanity learned to utter words there has been some form of cursing, and probably obscene gestures as well. It goes back to eagerness to express oneself in exciting, frustrating, hurtful, annoying and painful situations… and the eagerness of others to control what we say. As obnoxious as a steady supply of some of the most “offensive” obscenities can be… if I use “fu__,” for example, exactly whom have I hurt? I suppose children, if you think they should be kept ignorant of the various meanings to that obscenity… at least until they find out as they will: one way or another. Oh, and also hurt anyone I might have used as a target when I decide to use it in a slingshot built out of a brief sentence, like “____ you.” But what exactly makes that “more” offensive than calling someone a brainless, idiot, twit?

Nothing, really. We’ve just decided to treat, sometimes rather off, sex-related insults as especially offensive.

Yes, usage is crucial here… or should be. I have noticed those who object the most to profanity often seem unable to make the distinction. If I call you a “fu__,” then there is hurt, there is damage done. But it’s not really the word itself, it goes to usage. If I called you a… “mindless drone who is a cannibal who eats his neighbors and their little children,” that’s far more damaging and involves slander. But there’s not a curse word to be found in that phrase. Those who say “f___ off” is worse because cursing has power to make things come true view words in magical terms, as if words have a power of their own… not how we put them together. I can no more make you “f… off” than I can make you into an eater of children. But if they really feel this way, you’d think since the second phrase caould… according to their maigical way of thinking… not only destroy someone’s reputation, or cause someone to be arrested due to false accusation, but also become a child eating cannibal… wouldn’t that far worse than simply telling someone to “f___ off?”

The whole thing makes no sense.

Slander has become acceptable form of communication. Listen to talk radio and you’ll hear something far closer to the cannibal remark than the “f___ you” comment on a daily basis. We have even created agencies to prevent what we consider the worst of the worst words from being aired. But destroying reputations with vile lies? Hell, seems slander laws have become so lax that calling someone a feminazisocialistcommiefascistpoopeater is considered nothing more than good “clean” fun. “Just a joke!”

Ha.

Ha.

Ha.

Maybe “a joke” for those who know nothing about humor, or the bare essentials of formulating a real punch line… or cowards who prefer to hide their vile nature behind the claim, “It was just a joke!”

But what makes that “more acceptable” than “FU?”

Damned if I know.

Cursing has changed over the years due to shifting of syntax. Like “fusty luggs,” a reference to a woman who bedded many men, or “plug tail,” the one organ unique to a man? I’ll bet a middle school student could use either and most teacher’s would miss it or just be puzzled. Wiki has an interesting entry on cursing that includes the differences between British and American cursing.

   Our current crop of curse words… ignoring minor changes… go back to about the 11th century according to some sourcses. But I do feel that’s wrong. Maybe what they refer to but the actual words are always changing.

But, to be honest, I’m sure curse words have always been some variation on religious themes, sex, body functions and body parts. And of course we can’t forget combining those themes with some curse-oriented version of “your mother wears army boots.” Adding close relatives into the mix has probably always been a popular form of cursing since some cursing is simply insult based: part of the power play between people that’s been going on since we first added sentience to our natural competitive nature.

I’m guessing that Mel Brooks probably had it right in History of the World, Part I. Back in the cave days they probably had their own forms of cursing and it may well have involved urinating on Ugahs questionable cave art, or maybe on him as he slept.

Though usage has changed more than a bit, hence the phrase, “Piss off?”

It would be interesting to find out if Jesus cursed. If we are to believe standard theological skews then it’s doubtful he “took the name of…” himself? “…in vain. Of course we do curse ourselves sometimes; when we think we do something that doesn’t make sense or seems stupid, so maybe it’s not that absurd a proposition?

The sad thing here is there were so many things far more important that Jesus ranted about and railed against, but I’ll bet the mere mention that he may have cursed may infuriate some readers… perhaps more than we seem to ignore or miss his message? Isn’t a little odd that this cursing ban might seem to be far more important to to many who claim to follow Jesus?

But I’m not surprised at all. When common faith includes as much, if not more, cross worship and book worship… When many other forms of magical thinking: like believing some chant or cup has incredible powers, hold so much sway… what do you expect?

No one claims Jesus said, “Find my cup and it will cure all.” I doubt you can find a quote like this: “Remember me thusly: put my method of execution up on a wall and dangle it around your necks.” But I suspect he would have wanted us to metaphorically hang around our necks what he preached.

But, going on with my Google, the web often screws the pooch royally when it comes to… where did that rather graphic phrase come from? …(when it comes to) why people curse. Many sources confuse cursing with casting a curse. Casting a curse and cursing are not the same, and generally never have been. That kind of “cursing” requires incantations and often requires what most non-magical thinkers would consider props: dolls to poke, relics, holy water, satanic symbols, dead bodies to defile. Watch out squirrel! You may become part of vengeance soup.

Indeed the even stranger magical thinking in this case would be the religiously insane who think cursing might be a mere sign of demon possession. A true demon, I suspect, would have darker designs than to just to tell someone to “fu… off,” especially these days. Maybe start a war against a country that hasn’t attacked us through the use of lies? …then openly declaring those inconvenient to be terrorist related and then treated in less than humane ways, as if they were less than human, less than even canine or feline?

Now all that really was “obscene.”

After all, cursing can be ignored and usually loses much of its supposed “power” if you do.  Again: cursing only has “power” if we endow it with such “power.” If cursing actually has power then “bloody” would affect us here just like it does in England where it is considered a curse word.

But invading a country and tossing inconvenient people into bottomless legal pits? That’s the epitome of having, and abusing, power.

What curse words would Jesus have used, if he had, or people during his time? Well I’m guessing that curse words almost always have involved many different body parts, body functions, religion and animals. Certainly not roses, corn or peas. Kind of loses its power if you tell someone, “Why don’t you go suck off a plant,” though Ms. Cloro; your teacher, might ask you to stop because she has had her “Chlorophyll” of it.

Yeah, I went there. What are you going to do about it?

Notice how I used a word that, not so long ago, was considered a curse word: “suck.” “Screw,” in it’s milder forms seems to be dropping off the profanity-o-meter radar. As of late the profanity-o-meter needle hardly seems to move into “Oh, stop that” territory when either word is used. Yet not that long ago they were both very offensive. Now they’re both becoming common, almost totally unoffensive, usage.

We know, or think we know, that Jesus would have never, ever have approved cursing. At least that’s what we are told despite the fact that, if we are to believe the words used in the Bible really were his, he still spoke a lot more about many other things. The words of Jesus were mostly about how we treat each other and intended to confront orthodoxy: the status quo: while also submitting to it at times. Most of the time a kind of a passive resistance, disregarding the tipping of the tables incident.

But if he were here, right now, maybe Jesus would confront us about the curse words of our era.

Or maybe he mostly wouldn’t give a…?

-30-

 

© Copyright 2009

Ken Carman and Cartenual Productions

All Rights Reserved

Written by Ken Carman

Suddenly, as I watched, family members young and old dove deep down inside themselves: almost as if they were possessed. They were living through past moments only they really knew about. I’m sure if they had ever told other family members about them they may have been dismissed or even ragged on. Why? Family dynamics.

We all go through it. We all experience the pain. Falling in love is often a painful experience; even if you marry and stay with your first love. But, to me, the song Gravity isn’t just about that kind of love. I could see it reflecting upon parent/child relationships. People who you will never satisfy, or will even understand you, yet you are drawn back to as if plummeting towards a planet or a bright, white hot sun. The atmosphere may be poisonous, the temperature so cold your heart freezes and it shatters over and over again… or so hot a moth has a better chance with a flame. Yet you: the Phoenix, arises out of the ashes… only to fall again and again.

“Here I am and I stand so tall
Just the way I’m supposed to be
But you’re on to me and all over me.”

Years ago I made a conscious decision, once a relationship falls apart, never to go back again or become “friends.” I did that because, previous to that, every time I returned I only got burned again. In some ways, I regret it. But lessons learned long ago made me realize that I fall far too easy, and never really fall out of love. So easy for the old pain to simply reassert itself, even though those who left me simply can’t understand what all the angst is about.

“You hold me without touch
Keep me without chains
I never wanted anything so much
Than to drown in your love and not feel your rain”

Equally I often relive regrets about how I missed opportunities with my father before he died, or old fights we never quite resolved. Times when I simply couldn’t live up to his expectations. He’s been dead since 88, but I still feel the pull and the pain of such memories: gravity.

“Set me free
Leave me be
I don’t want to fall another moment into your gravity”

I think all of us who take relationships seriously and really care deeply go through this. And the fact that it seems so hard to share such experience in sympathy, and understand… without finding fault is such a damn shame. Here’s something we all share: deep, intense, feelings that could bond us together. Instead we just let old patterns and assumptions about each other reassert themselves. We wind each up only orbiting our own personal gravity sinkholes, always ready to crash again.

I have felt the pain. I have fallen again and again and when I return I learn I’ll simply crash again. I thought I was alone in the depth of my feelings.

But we are never alone.

Memory keeps us company: something that provides and paints passion into our lives. And that passion can be more positive if we try to see beyond who we think others are that’s all too convenient, to who they may really be, might, or could, have been. Which, of course, simply starts it all over again, I suppose.

“Something always brings me back to you
It never takes too long…”

May we all find comfort despite, and maybe even because, of love lost, or love missed…

…despite the deepness of our own personal abyss.

-30-

Inspection is a column that has been written by Ken Carman for over 30 years. Inspection is dedicated to looking at odd angles, under all the rocks and into the unseen cracks and crevasses that constitute the issues and philosophical constructs of our day: places few think, or even dare, to venture.

Gravity lyrics the property of Sara Bareilles and related publishing companies. Inspection…
© Copyright 2010
Ken Carman and Cartenual Productions
All Rights Reserved

Albert Payson Terhune wasn’t just a collie author. From newspaper reporter to books on various topics, including mythology, he commented on just about everything in life; whatever he wrote. And he had a habit of including personal details that many authors didn’t in such books.

He taught me so much: both intentionally and unintentionally, like there’s always something a little ironic about how someone dies. I remember reading in his books how he loathed what automobiles had done to our culture. While there were other reasons for why he passed on, his downhill slide was most likely hurried on when, while walking the borders of his 42 acre estate called Sunnybank, he was hit by an automobile.

While he I suspect he loved kids, he found spoiled brats annoying. And, a bit crushing to my literary love affair: rumor has it that he apparently wasn’t all that kind to his daughter from another marriage. He was always amazed how his collies, even some like a blue merle collie, Gray Dawn, who at least one writer claimed could be a bit vicious… (Interesting pun, isn’t it, “Bit vicious?”) …would put up with little kids pulling on their sensitive ears and hair. How, despite that, they would protect them to the point of their own lives. “The Master,” as he referred to himself and his relationship with Lad, Bruce and their many generations of purebred show dogs, certainly did learn a lot from his loving collies…. though he preferred referring to them as “thoroughbred.”

Terhune taught me a lot about love. We all have a lot to learn from each other. Like in Albert Payson’s many stories and books, I too have found myself out smarted by my own collies, or shown how I’m being unfair, or lacking patience.

I’m not sure what his politics were, though I suspect he was a bit of a conservative. Yet he had equal animosity for any politician or public figure who would bloviate a lot and thought too much of themselves. He didn’t care for those who made promises and then went back on them. I can’t imagine he’d be a fan of many of our talk show hosts and our pundits these days. He loathed loudmouths who pretended to be more than they really were; those who tried to shove others around with their assumed all important nature. But we’ll never know what he would have had to say about these pundits, of course.

Many of his stories were morality plays where the collies often taught the Master a lesson, or about some malevolent soul who held a grudge or did something he shouldn’t have. Where bravery was absent in the human heart, the soul shining deep in the eyes of the collie provided. This was not hyperbole. I have seen it over and over.

Maybe I also love him so much because he was a bit of a crank. His voice was often one of a rambling commentary on changes in society and human characteristics he was far less than fond of. My hero. I’m still trying to emulate that noble aspect to his character. I suspect my wife might say…. “What do you mean, ‘trying?’”

Maybe, as a kid, it helped that he wrote about how everyone seemed to think it must be marvelous to be way over six feet tall… yet how awkward, socially problematic and often impossible it was. I have never been tall, but what kid doesn’t feel awkward and singled out in unfair ways for their differences: the things that make them unique? I also understand all to well how one can become well known for one’s talent and able to make a living that way, even live comfortably, but still long to stretch beyond that: show how you’re more than an author who can write about collies… or write and perform shows for children, or teach children about script writing using digital recording, in my case. All an absolute blessing, yet also a bit of a curse. You learn how to flesh out your stories; your endeavors, with the story of your own life and lessons you’ve learned, and include humor. With me: puns and parody. With Albert Payson Terhune, while mentioning collectibles you have: specifically a multiple bladed sword, you also mention that upon a press of a button it spreads wide with a twist. Then you tell your readers it may be the origin of the concept of “hamburger.” I remember reading that in my Baptist camp cabin one summer and waking other kids up. I almost fell out of my cot due to laughter. A bit gruesome to say the least, but funny.

Minds “educated” on a personal reading level only to the point of Superman, or Archie, comic books never seemed to understand the attraction… even when I try to explained why I found his books so captivating, so intriguing and even funny.

Albert and Anice had a 42 acre estate in Pompton Lakes, New Jersey: on Pompton Lake. Although publishers loved to put drawings of collies running for a dip down at the lake he openly told readers they didn’t know what they were talking about: collies tend to dislike water. Not “all,” but I would say “most.” Just like they tend to loath thunder. My luck? I finally got a tri-color named Frankincense who doesn’t care and likes to wade into lakes and streams, but about the same time my wife found him a little mutt “pal” for him who hates, and is terrified, by both. Figures. Now the ever smart collie realizes that “thunder” and “getting attention” can be synonyms. He accompanies the little dog who shivers in fear; both getting as close as they can, over to my computer while I type this as thunder sounds in the distance. Of course he wears that ever present collie smirk. Some days I swear he’s laughing at me.

Wise guy.

If not for Terhune there would be no Lassie. I always felt that Lassie was a shallow attempt to feed off of what Terhune started back when German shepherds were the most popular breed; back at the turn of the previous century. While, due to TV and movies, Lassie became more famous… it’s sad that a great writer’s work was somewhat intellectually marginalized by spinning out one dimensional tales suited for the tube. Tales easily mocked by, “Go Lassie, go get the crane and bring it back. Get Timmy out of the well. The keys are in the ignition.”

The exploits of Lad, Bruce, Gray Dawn, Lady and the hundreds of other Sunnybank collies were, unlike Lassie, often true. Yes, they absolutely were “fictionalized.” I’m sure Albert had no way of knowing exactly what happened when, during a forest fire, a half burned collie showed up at The Place with an unburnt child, but these incidents: many of them, did happen. And I’m sure he added substance where substance was lacking. I have no doubt he pieced several incidents together and then spun them into a tale, or two… or more. As a writer myself I understand the process all too well. But where Terhune took liberties, the many authors of the Lassie stories just went wild, or just “took.” One of my first lessons in how the creative world works is when I discovered after Albert died, when the first Lassie book was published, it amazingly seemed to have lifted some of the content directly out of Terhune’s books. I’m sure Anice was too busy to pursue such odd similarities in intellectual properties. For instance the American Kennel Club was demanding accounting for every collie, pedigree-wise, or Sunnybank would lose its kennel license. In the beginning of her book: Across the Line, Anice makes it obvious that, after her beloved “Bert” left this life behind, her life was filled with an amazing flock of lawyers and legal issues. To keep herself solvent Anice sold much of the land over the years: dwindling 42 acres down to 9.

Albert Payson Terhune often wrote about the rudely curious and that era’s paparazzi who invaded their privacy. Often one of his collies would help offer up the hint that they were not welcome. Since he was the most famous man in town he also wrote about a few attempts to break into The Place. He hired locals, some who decided they didn’t like the collies or could partake of the Terhunes wealth: leading to a few firings and charges filed. He told many of these tales in his books and short stories like Bruce, Treve and Best Loved Dog Stories. I got the sense that a few of his neighbors, in the wider Pompton Lakes area, may have resented his fame. I do remember a story where at least one tried to poison one of his collies.

If you worked for the Terhunes and respected the collies; The Place and the Terhunes, you became part of the family in a sense, though the Master and the Mistress did treasure their privacy. Robert Friend, their caretaker, was often mentioned in the books: affectionately. But they also had their share of workers who were dishonest or careless. I suspect some of the animosity locally may have been driven by those who lost their jobs because they left a door open so a panicked horse could escape, stole something or they mistreated one of the collies. The one thing you didn’t do was threaten the Master or the Mistress: you might find yourself facing a collie with attitude. This was, indeed, a mutual love affair between the Master, the Mistress and their Sunnybank collies.

The Sunnybank collies did place in some AKC shows, but Albert Payson refused to ship his beloved collies nationwide, show to show, as if they were prize flowers or inanimate works of art.

Of course there other were reasons for much of this. Did I mention some might have considered him a bit of a crank? Oh, that’s right, I think I did.

They were standard fare’, religiously. They attended the Dutch Reformed Church in Pompton Lakes where they are buried. His father was a prominent Dutch Reform Minister. When Albert died, I thought I remembered reading comments by Anice, in her book Across the Line, that she had to looking for pedigrees: something about the courts claiming the dogs had to be destroyed. According to Judy Leathers, editor of The Lookout: newsletter regarding all things Terhune, that was never actually in the will. Albert Payson has requested that the collies live out their natural lives at The Place. I suspect these inaccurate comments may have been comments made by some local one of the times I visited The Place in the 60s; maybe someone in the caretaker’s house at the top of the drive.

But no matter where the comment came from, I found out about the pedigree incident after obtaining a copy of Anice Terhune’s book. I was in a used bookstore in St. Augustine. Just wasting time before my next performance down the road: Songtales I perform all over the east coast for the very young. I walked in and the proprietor asked me what I like to read. After mentioning Sci Fi, and odd takes on theology, I also mentioned I used to read a lot of books about collies when I was a kid.

“I have just the book for you.”

Honest. I never mention Albert Payson Terhune. I certainly didn’t mention this book which I had had a passion for reading for many years. I had even tried to trace it down but found it had gone out of print long ago.

During this battle over the collies she was looking for a pedigree for one of the collies to prove ownership. She heard his voice, clear as day, tell her exactly where it was in as she sat at his desk. This led to multiple spiritual contacts regarding many things as Bert filled her life again. She wrote a book of all Bert told her called, Across the Line using a very rough draft Albert Payson Terhune had written with a similar; though not quite the same, theme.

In Across the Line she talks about what her husband experienced after he died. Albert told her we all go the same place. We are the ones who turn it into Heaven or Hell. Our Earth-bound inspiration comes from there, those who worked in medicine came up with innovative ideas for patient care once they pass on, fiction writers create story and novel concepts… and on it goes. Who we call Satan is there: the most unhappy creature in what we might call Heaven. To him it is Hell. There are levels to what we call Heaven and we work our way up to get closer to the Divine.

Do I accept all that as fact? No, but I find it fascinating.

In the 60s I visited Sunnybank twice. I saw The Garden from Everywhere that Anice grew out of seeds gathered from their many travels, The Place that over looks the lake and the dog kennels towards the back of the house. The house was torn down the second time I visited: apparently some local kids tried climbing up to the roof and fell through. The township felt it was a liability as is. But Sunnybank, with much of the property sold by Anice just to keep some of Albert’s dream alive, still lives. They have dog shows and collie meets. There’s even a society with a newsletter dedicated to their memory called The Lookout.

The Garden from Everywhere. You may notice the collie in this picture from the Terhune Memorial website. Just like many of the website pictures, I find mine often unintentionally filled with a collie. They certainly are ever curious creatures, aren’t they?

I remember my mother on the way there the first time tried to convince me nothing I had read was true; it was all fiction. When we arrived she was strangely silent: especially as we stood over Laddie’s grave. The caretaker at the time: George McCann; not Robert Friend that Albert wrote affectionately about, directed us down the driveway. We had free run of the grounds and the outside of the house. The lake, now more populated, was still quite beautiful. A house towered up on a hill above The Place: obviously part of the property sell off that allowed Anice to spend her last days at The Place.

My wife and I have had five collies on our 28 acres here in a little “holler,” as they call small valleys here in Tennessee. They are brilliant, loving, companions who will be there for you even when you royally mess up, when you pay too little attention, when you get upset about something you thought they did but should have known better… they’re too smart to have done whatever you think they did. They love kids, the defenseless: with a passion… and often let them do things to them they’d never let an adult do; though they can be very loyal to their “Master,” their “Mistress.” Sometimes they even take the blame for what the cats or some little brainless dogs do: even though they might loath both. And if they think you’re playing too roughly with that same little dog they will defend him. They live for you, for “the pack:” the family and maybe to catch a Frisbee now and then like my 12 year old; still spry, Frankincense. They are loyal beyond belief, fair and decent.

And as much as I love collies, Albert, Anice and their loyalty to each other…

…I wish I could make the same claims for much of humanity. We surely could use more of the gentleness, the beauty and the love that Albert and Anice poured into their lives, their books and their readers. Readers who Albert Payson Terhune never, ever, talked down to: even though he knew many children, like myself, were his most faithful readers; almost as faithful as Sunnybank collies were to the Master, the Mistress and The Place.

-30-

Inspection is a column that has been written by Ken Carman for over 30 years. Inspection is dedicated to looking at odd angles, under all the rocks and into the unseen cracks and crevasses that constitute the issues and philosophical constructs of our day: places few think, or even dare, to venture.

© Copyright 2010
Ken Carman and Cartenual Productions
All Rights Reserved

I have argued this issue for many years and there’s absolutely no way to convince those who hate the space program that there is a need for humanity to not only dream and imagine, but to go ahead and make those dreams come true. I swear if they were next to whomever invented fire, instead of encouraging them they would have stuffed the fire right up their posterior. I mean, after all, why take all those risks? Rubbing sticks together to make fire? Ha! What are you gong to tell me next, that man can find a way to fly? Pshaw! Hunting for flammable material might get you eaten by a wild animal, it might burn down our forest, or fill the cave with smoke cave: and no one had come up with the concepts of a fire department, or cooking food, yet. Why not just stay deep in the a cave where it’s warmer, or cover yourself with the carcass of some freshly killed critter? Instant warmth!

After all: we already know what fire might do from random lightening strikes. That’s all we need to know. Why take a risk? Why even imagine we can harness the awesome power of flame?

Too late? Well, after all, we already know going beyond the speed of light is impossible. Someone came up with a theory that says so. End of story. Why even attempt to imagine beyond what we already think we know?

We already know solar power for the masses is way in the future. Why even try?

There can be no disputing the fact that if we even attempt to go beyond the speed of sound it would shake any craft we’re in apart, right?

Well, if we had to go by what we knew at any certain time being all that we can know, and all that is possible, we might as well go back to covering ourselves with smelly carcasses or living in caves. But no argument will ever convince those who are the intellectual children of Org who criticized Ugh for even thinking about managing fire that the space program is worthwhile. Not the fact that damn near every life saving device we have right now has the space program to thank for the tech that made it possible. Not that we have a finite time on this planet… and exploring, learning and visiting our neck of the vacuum-based “woods” may teach us something that very well could save humanity: if not on this planet then maybe elsewhere. Not that the cost of the space program is quite small compared with, oh less say, the military; while the return on it has improved; yes saved, lives.

None of this matters.

Not one bit.

Nada.

Columbia and her crew launching. Did they die in vain?

I do understand that budgets are limited. “Times are tough,” though only because of those who believe that limited government: strangled in some imaginary bathtub, is the best. But, OK, if we must cut, maybe we should stop using the majority of our vast resources to kill others? We will never kill enough of the right people to have any war that will really end all wars. There will always be more people to kill because we don’t agree or they stand in our way. And never guess what: the more we kill the more will need to be killed. We don’t need some imbecile with a black cloak and a scythe. Wars serve the purpose very well. And the war machine we have created is always interested in finding more work; if not creating it.

Conservative and national defense fans alert!

I’m not claiming the military has to go. Just the opposite. I’m not saying we actually will be able to end all wars; though certainly invading countries on false pretenses; ignoring the consequences we have been warned over and over about, doesn’t help. Creating a massive monetary sink hole instead of just going in to get who hit us doesn’t help either.

But disregarding both points for the moment… what I am saying is we don’t always need to have the latest toys: especially in the days when one more, or a more powerful, nuke will do nothing to stop terrorism. No, I would like to see less futuristic weapons… then better training, better pay and more diverse duties, for the military. Have them helping America meet this challenge, and our other challenges would be a great idea. And especially stop the incredibly expensive off shoring of the National Guard for the purposes of military adventurism. The National Guard: who should be guarding the damn nation… not off conquering and pacifying populations. I also think we can back off a bit from some of our drug laws and save money there too. We don’t need more prisons and more prisoners feeding off the public’s wallets. Someone with a few ounces of pot certainly doesn’t need to be on the public dole courtesy of idiots who would raise hell if they were on welfare instead.

There’s oodles of money to be saved here, and the money we do save should go into funding education, solving other problems and having a vigorous: manned (and wo-manned) space program.

Years ago President Kennedy inspired billions when he launched our space program into high gear. Like millions of other teens, I watched history as it was being made, and marveled at humanity, for a moment, stepping if ever so slightly away from looking at all our parochial earthly concerns as if they had to be only things that mattered in the universe, and the odd, ignorant, concept that what was out there in Kennedy’s “new frontier” was of little concern.

After that first step we went to the moon a few more times. We never bothered to reach beyond ourselves. Instead we claim that R2D2, or some pathetic attempt to created Robbie from Forbidden Planet is all we need. No, it isn’t: if for no other reason than inspiration. There’s a reason why the space program went from us baby boomers and parents glued to the tube to, “ho hum, another one,” to practically no one paying one damn bit of attention. We abandoned the part of the vision that actually could have taken us to Mars and beyond. Instead manned missions became barely orbital, uninspired and suspiciously military/war-making in nature. They also became spy on our own populace in nature by being very expensive shipping clerks for the CIA and, perhaps, the NSA and any other agency interested in keeping an intrusive eye on the populace. The rest was left to machines that sent back fabulous pictures. Incredible… but far, far less inspirational.

The media? Without the human element, the “going where no human has gone before” skew, they would rather focus on the inane and the artificial. Why? Because that human element, and the inspiration provided by real leaders, real explorers, is missing.

Today we would simply tell them, “Foolish dreamers. Our country doesn’t need your worthless services. Go away.” Just like we have said the same to much of our manufacturing base.

No, we’d rather play it “safe.”

I don’t mean to pick on the current administration. I know we’ve been heading this way for a long time. And I know the current Obama policy regarding space is in flux and I appreciate the fact that Barack Obama is willing to adjust when loud protests are heard over a proposed gutting of the human element of the space program. I do think the idea of vending our to business is a real bad idea: think Blackwater. And I think that hitching rides with the Russians is like sending an open invite to more tragedies. “Russian” and “well made” are by no means synonyms. Even our astronauts have commented about this in the past on joint missions.

But to take the fight direct to a president I still support: what I’ve seen so far from a president who promised “change,” is little to no “change.” The Mars mission he so glibly spoke of is so far in the future he can yammer all he wants and never have to live up to that promise. By the time that year rolls around there will be other presidents to blame… if the public even remembers the dream at all.

Change? No, instead I have seen an abandonment of dreams and more of the same old, same old.

“No we can’t have single payer.”
“No we can’t have public option.”
“Dare to dream, America? Well give it a rest. Like your industry, jobs and labor continues to be outsourced, at best your dreams will be replaced by machines.”

I hope I’m wrong, But if I’m not, just what are you saying to the ghosts of all the brave astronauts who died while trying to help humanity reach for the stars, Mr. President. I hope it’s not…

“You died in vain.”

-30-

Inspection is a column that has been written by Ken Carman for over 30 years. Inspection is dedicated to looking at odd angles, under all the rocks and into the unseen cracks and crevasses that constitute the issues and philosophical constructs of our day: places few think, or even dare, to venture.

© Copyright 2010
Ken Carman and Cartenual Productions
All Rights Reserved

The Turner Diaries, for the uninitiated, follow several militia groups that decide that all people of color, Liberals, the educated, immigrants: both legal and illegal, are destroying the “true” America. They succeed by using what can only be described as terrorist and deceptive methods: finding ways to have the carnage they caused blamed on others… causing more violence and chaos. Also in part by those in power, and “experts:” such as those like the guest from Southern Poverty Law Center, who minimize and marginalize their efforts. By the end of the book, all across the country, they have every woman, man and child lined up to be shot, hung and otherwise executed who annoyed them even in the mildest of ways: even just for being the wrong religion, born of the wrong color.

Of course, over ten years ago, they didn’t have powerful Republican leaders backing them up by claiming that pointing out violence against anyone who dares to disagree with them is more despicable than the act itself. They also didn’t have a major network willing to advertise for free their every utterance as if it came from the lips of Jesus himself.

I’ve been wondering about the news coverage of the recent capture of members of The Hutaree. All the indications are there: the attempt to murder policemen and then commit mass murder when they gather for the funeral to “start a war” has all the same indicators the McVeigh/Nichols plot had. They both seemed hatched straight out of The Turner Diaries. Both sets of plotters considered themselves “Christian warriors.” They both planned “to levy war against the United States, (and) to oppose by force the authority of the government of the United States.”

There have been a lot of suspicious incidents over the years between the two: churches shot up, a plane flying into an IRS building, anthrax sent to almost exclusively Democratic leaders and odd power plant incidents that the Bush administration said they couldn’t explain… but quickly added, “had nothing to do with terrorists.” Much of this, especially the last? In the The Turner Diaries. Power plants were part of the attacks; an attempt to disorient “the enemy.” Politicians attempted to cover up who did these acts: behave as if it was all just some “accident.” In The Turner Diaries they especially like to take advantage of foolish politicians on the right side who they considered ignorant enablers who would go to the head of the line when the mass executions started.

But let’s stick with what we do know. Of course we have the Turner Diaries driven attack in Oklahoma City. Now we have a group whose plots and rhetoric is pretty much pure Turner in nature with all the Christian purity, hatred and violence on the label if it were placed in a can or a bottle. Combine this with all I have mentioned before: some of the ingredients aren’t exactly exactly the same, but if you saw it on the shelf in your local store with the labels would you think it unrelated? Buy it and feed it to your kids saying it’s probably all unrelated to what’s clearly printed on the can or label? If so, how about buying something that looks like it’s the same product as Draino and go home and drink it?

Maybe if you’re a prosecutor, or anyone else charged with keeping the public safe, you should? The nation would surely be safer.

Once again we are making the same mistakes. In Mark Guarino’s Christian Science article he explains how one of McVeigh’s former prosecutors, Aitan Goelman, says we may need not fear groups like The Hutaree as much as rogue individuals who may come out of such groups. I rarely give anyone with that much gravitas such a slam, or use such words in a column… but is he f%$#ing nuts? Obviously we need to fear both. Does he think there’s no connection whatsoever? These groups spew this BS, promote it and when one of them takes action it’s just some “rogue” element?

Of course that was then, this is now. McVeigh and Nichols did this on their own, as far as we know. And the violence and murders perpetrated by Turner Diaries worshipers, a “prequel” to Oklahoma, a murder performed by The Order and plans to murder many others… well, happened long ago: in the early 1980s. But the problem is Goelman is claiming this now, after many members of yet another group: The Hutaree, were caught well on their way to taking action. This is no longer just select “rogue” individuals; even if such a concept applies to those who agree that The Turner Diaries is some map to follow in their war against all who dare to disagree…. especially when they start to gather in small “cells.”

But one of the more interesting facets of The Turner Diaries is that the different cells across the nation not only make sure they are insulated from each other: independent of each other so that if one goes down another doesn’t… part of the overall plan includes actions on the part of individuals: McVeigh-like characters. This is part of the plan: an attempt through actions of individuals to keep some of the heat off of individual cells. It’s in the book. The hope is between “rogue” individuals and small cells, they can bring a nation to it’s knees. And, in the book, this is exactly how they succeed. The more you look into The Turner Diaries and think of all that’s happened since Oklahoma City and recently, the more you too might hear the ghost of Timothy McVeigh laughing in delight.

Has Goelman even read The Turner Diaries?

If so, then someone needs to ask him; these days, is he less interested in prosecuting and more interested in enabling?

-30-

Inspection is a column that has been written by Ken Carman for over 30 years. Inspection is dedicated to looking at odd angles, under all the rocks and into the unseen cracks and crevasses that constitute the issues and philosophical constructs of our day: places few think, or even dare, to venture.

© Copyright 2010
Ken Carman and Cartenual Productions
All Rights Reserved

In the typical judo move some Repubs; those who most deserve the title “ReThug,” attempt to use, suddenly the mere mention of cut gas lines and other actual acts of violence is an attempt to use such threats as political weapons. Given a different context, another time, one can hear…

“How dare you use the gassing as a political weapon? Shut up Jew!”

One shouldn’t be surprised by this obvious tactic. It’s like all the angst over Joe Biden and the F bomb. When their VP used it in public they cheered. Whether it be profanity, threats or actual violence, if we could stack all the tolerance and excuses on the Right for their own misbehavior it could be seen from Alpha Centauri with the naked eye.

Ironically, Rep. Cantor used a bullet some fool shot up in the air that happened to land in Republican territory as a political weapon. Yes, unlike cut gas lines, a fertilizer bomb the blew children into little bitty pieces and 9/11: all actual attacks; unfortunately too often used in a political way, Eric Cantor deliberately, and intentionally lied about this bullet.

Or maybe his stance is God is a terrorist? I suspect you probably believe he had something to do with law of gravity, Mr. Cantor.

There’s a long list of violence, not just “threats,” being used as political weapons on the right. The list of “lock and load” type comments, and attempts to turn Obama into an actual physical target of anger, is rather long. Then we have the past… abortion related murder, marching into a church and committing mass murder, anthrax… and pretend anthrax… mailed out more than 90% of the time Democrats… well, in this sense, Mr. Cantor maybe is right. I’m not going to keep going on and on: turn this column into some screed listing the endless examples. But what I would like to see from Mr. Cantor is their long list of people on the more left side of the equation in the past 40 years committing similar violent acts, sending such E-mails and letters.

No such list, Mr. Cantor?

Have to go back to the sixties and early 70s to even get close to an equal list?

And about those “threats” you claim you’ve had? Of course every politician receives them, I’m sure, but to equate them with the kind of threats your teabaggers alone are handing out these days? Tell you what, you show us yours, we’ll show you ours. Let’s have a nice, big, public ceremony. Have the techies trace the E-based threats back to make sure you or one of your followers didn’t just mail it out to create a fictional threat. Then let’s see if the quantity, and the “quality,” of these threats are the same.

Or are you just lying again: using threats for political gain?

Of one thing there can be little doubt. Those who continue to try to find ways to shut up those pointing out violence and threats do have an agenda: their agenda is to support those who do violence and make threats. Perhaps Mr. Cantor is just trying to enable an important part of his base…

…murderers and potential murderers.

“To use such threats as political weapons is reprehensible.”

-Eric Cantor, Representative of Virginia’s 7th congressional district

Yes, Mr. Cantor, it is. And to repeat: if you really believe that…

Stop doing it.

-30-

Inspection is a column that has been written by Ken Carman for over 30 years. Inspection is dedicated to looking at odd angles, under all the rocks and into the unseen cracks and crevasses that constitute the issues and philosophical constructs of our day: places few think, or even dare, to venture.

© Copyright 2010
Ken Carman and Cartenual Productions
All Rights Reserved

I have yet to hear a single “joke” from the lips of Ann Coulter. What I have heard is hate that sounds like someone tried to formulate it into a joke format but failed: like some of the worst amateurs at a comedy night club open mike night. An all too easy comparison would be Andrew Dice Clay. But Clay, as much as I dislike his act, doesn’t go around doing political events as some supposed humorist-pundit. He does comedy clubs and comedy-based events.

Coulter really has no intent on being “funny:” but she’s all to willing to cower behind that playground excuse: “It was just a joke.”

OK, maybe you find it funny. Well, there are all kinds of tastes out there, including cannibalistic. And that’s my problem with Coulter: I think her kind of “humor,” if you have to call it that, has all the laughs of bin Laden going on TV after planes slammed into the towers saying, “Just joking, America!”

“Just joking!”

So now… Oh, God. Do I have to? Really? Damn… I guess I do. I have to defend her to a certain extent. That really, really sucks.

In one of the earlier editions of Inspection, about 1975, I wrote about Pat Buchanan having been hired as a speaker at PSUC: Plattsburgh State. Yes, even back then some of us called it, “P Suck.” He was uninvited: un-hired. (“Invited” is such a imprecise term. These folks are paid, you know.) I wrote an edition of Inspection that made the same arguments I’m about to make now.

First let’s make it clear for all the righties screaming “free speech:” Canada is a different country. You do know that, right? Free speech laws are a little different. And being a Conservative at the time, and more “left” now, I still make the same comments: the same analogies. Just like Plattsburgh State, University of Ottawa can “invite” and “dis-invite” anyone they want… just as Ann can “dis” anyone she wants. “Free speech” isn’t “free” unless that axiom applies. It’s the same axiom that, when applied to religion: and applied honestly , would state, “Freedom of faith must mean freedom to have no faith or even be an Atheist, or we have no ‘freedom’ at all.”

While I understand the college’s “security concerns,” it is unfortunate that they did this. A college: any college, should be a bastion of free speech: even if that speech if incredibly over the top, sounds mentally unstable and quite offensive. In fact, being able to control oneself in the presence of offensive speech should be part of pre-college curriculum, if not elementary. If their students have that much trouble controlling themselves then the college has more serious issues than a momentary visit from one bad mouth bear.

Yes, I did resist using the other “b” word there. Aren’t ya proud of me?

If they’re worried about non-students causing trouble, then they also have security concerns that go far beyond a visit by one admittedly offensive pundit, posing as an exceedingly poor comedian.

The University did itself no favors by canceling Coulter. Notice I don’t use “Ms.” She doesn’t even deserve that much. I would use “Mr.” for Pat, however. But still I support the right of such offensive speakers in academia. Indeed I would claim there is a “need” for such. College is supposed to widen your horizons, not narrow it to least offensive, or less likely to offend.

Maybe if Hitler had had a wider forum he either would have been less effective, or been dis-empowered. The fact he was dismissed at first, and allowed to rally his base, says a lot about how he and some of the worst leaders in human history have been able to come to power. When I wrote that edition of Inspection in the 70s we were still in Nam. Maybe if we had had a more open discussion back in the 50s and early 60s: even the late 60s, that affair would have wound up better than it did. I’ll allow you to construct whatever “better” scenario suits you. The same was true pre-Iraq and pre-Afghanistan.

Lesson apparently not yet learned. When we don’t listen to those with a cause, when we marginalize them: and instead they focus more on rallying their base, it often comes back to bite one hell of a big chunk our of our collective asses… and make asses of all of us. Rallying a base is part of the freedoms we need to defend. So the only way to actually marginalize and disarm the dangerous is to stop marginalizing them before they talk: allow them to hang themselves and their followers in front of the general pubic… let them display just how absurd and dangerous they are to a wider audience. Indoctrination is not an issue if free discussion and debate is allowed after the talk: before she arrives, while she’s there and long after she’s gone. Yes, you will always have a few idiots who will follow and be inspired by the most “out there” speakers you can get, but there are more who will follow when you shut them out. Nothing excites some like the forbidden: especially when clever speakers can use that “forbidden” and turn it into “you’re being oppressed/denied/marginalized too.”

I would hope the University would reconsider. But they have every right to cancel, though I wouldn’t blame Coulter one bit for seeking a cancellation fee. I have one myself for my programs as an entertainer. Pretty hard to enforce, but I do have one.

One last comment: one I didn’t make in 75. This discussion surrounds “free speech.” I have already pointed out that these concepts also extend to those who decide not to have Coulter speak. But we need to mention the very phrase: “free speech.” The college, I’m sure, was giving the speaker money to speak: a “speaker’s fee.” So maybe we’re not referring to what was specifically protected in this country by our Bill of Rights as much as one would think.

Free Speech isn’t really all that “free” if you’re paying for it.

-30-

Inspection is a column that has been written by Ken Carman for over 30 years. Inspection is dedicated to looking at odd angles, under all the rocks and into the unseen cracks and crevasses that constitute the issues and philosophical constructs of our day: places few think, or even dare, to venture.

© Copyright 2010
Ken Carman and Cartenual Productions
All Rights Reserved