j guevara

Bro

Wednesday, April 28th, 2010

Guest Writer: j guevara

Bro
Having a knack at raising money – for other people – I got ‘volunteered’ to be on the local Big Brothers of America board of directors – ‘Managing Director, fund raising’. Although I consented, I refused to bend to their persistent pestering to take on a ‘Little’, as the organization affectedly calls them. I had no desire to deal with some lost, unfortunate juvenile, with a life already out-of-luck before his teens. Hey, it’s a tough world.

The ‘Pizza Festival’ netted $600, but the 1st annual Big Brothers’ golf tournament promised to do better. To give it more legitimacy the committee felt the ‘Littles’ should take part. The problem was the ‘Littles’ were too little. “How ‘bout adding a putting contest?” I suggested. End of problem.

The morning of the tournament, Pat called. Pat, the most cunning, underhanded sneakiest woman I’ve ever known, had one goal in life: get me to accept a ‘Little’. She was relentless, though I had to admit, no one was better at pairing ‘Bigs’ and ‘Littles’. She could pick a perfect match at a hundred yards, in the dark, connive you into that match, and have you thinking it was your own decision.

Knowing that, I should have been on high alert. But it was early Sunday morning, bad hangover; she caught me off guard. A ‘Little’ needed a ride, she said, and it was on my way; could I please pick him up in time for the contest? No problem, I thought. I thought wrong.

It was pouring rain. I barely tooted the horn when out came this skinny little whelp dodging puddles with the agility of a first-string half-back, leaping toys and hedge like a track star. I leaned over and cracked the door. He jumped in dripping wet, water running down his stringy blond hair, over his youthful face of pre-puberty innocence, past a wide smile full of teeth, and onto my new $200 leather seat covers. Not an auspicious beginning.

With barely a ‘howdy’ he laid into a machine gun chatter with enough details to stymie a mainframe. In fewer minutes than his age – eleven – I knew his whole life story. Twice! Steve didn’t just worm his way into your heart; he jack-hammered his way in.

When we reached the golf course the rain had stopped, clouds parted, and Pat was waving for us to hurry, the putting contest was about to begin.
About twenty ‘Littles’ prepared for the elimination rounds. Some were shorter than the putter, so they’d be out soon. At least they got to compete, which was the whole idea, right? The ‘Littles’ thought otherwise. To them, this was the PGA.

Round by round the mini-midgets were eliminated. Some groaned, other moaned, a few threw a fit. The adults tried to calm them with admonitions about being good sports. I was no help quoting Vince Lombardi: “Show me a good loser, and I’ll show you a loser.”

It wasn’t long before it became obvious whom it would come down to. Steve was definitely a front-runner. He had a steady hand, good concentration, coordination, and a nice smooth stroke for his age. Steve was a natural athlete; lack of confidence was his only setback.

The other contender was a wise ass, too big for his age and his britches; a dough ball, a foot taller and two feet wider than his peers, who’d go through life thinking ‘clever’ is the same as ‘intelligent’. He was sharp, he knew it, and didn’t hesitate to use it. Every round he’d bully his way to go first. He understood psychology. Unfortunately for him, so did I.

As expected, it boiled down to Big Butt and Steve. Before final round, they took a break. Steve had already resigned himself to second-place. He was satisfied with that. The kid had two years on him; Steve didn’t think he stood a chance. I took him off to the side and gave him a crash course in Psych 101.

“Look, the trick is to go first,” I said. “Whoever goes first has no pressure. Even if it takes 10 putts, number two still has to beat that. Therefore, number two is under pressure. That’s how he’s winning; he’s not that good. He’s counting on you beating yourself. He’s gone first every round. Stand up to him and demand he let somebody else go first for a change.”

Steve gazed up at me with his wide smile and the most incredible gleam in his bright blue eyes; a look I will never forget. It was as though in his mind I was the smartest, most all-knowing person he would ever meet. I was Apollo, Zeus, and Thor all rolled into one. For that brief moment, I actually thought I could command lightning, wind and thunder. It felt good, of course, until it dawned on me what a heavy burden that is. Like I said, I’m nobody’s big brother, and I sure as hell was not interested in the role of God.

The final round was ready to begin. Big Butt muscled his way to the green ready to take his putt.

I stood watching. Steve was nervous, a little scared, he was on his own. He started to back away, then glanced over at me watching to see what he would do. He’d resigned himself back to second-place.

Ashamed he had to let me down, his sad face begged me to understand.
For once, I wished I was God; maybe then I could forgive him.

Instead, I looked up at the sky and shook my head in disappointment. That was all Steve needed to see. The next thing I heard was this little guy’s voice trying to sound strong, exerting his rights against all odds for the first time in the real world.
“Wait! I think I should go first. I’m younger, he’s older. He’s gone first every time.”

“What difference does it make?” Big Butt shouted.

“Good,” said Steve, crowding his way to the green, and nudging his opponent aside, “since it doesn’t make any difference to you, I’ll just go ahead and go first.”

Calm, cool, steady, deep breath, eyes glued to the ball, putter squared to the cup, heels locked, knees slightly bent, back straight, just as he’d seen on television.

Butt had a ‘Big’ somewhere in the crowd; I’d already scoped him out, casually made my way over, and stood with arms folded next to him. With both of us focused on the action, I leaned toward him slightly and said out of the corner of my mouth, “Five bucks he wins.”
‘Big’ looked at me, rolled his eyes, laughed, and said, “Make it ten.”

One stroke, two strokes, three strokes, contact, follow through, the ball rolled over the green straight for the cup. A thirty-foot putt-in-one by an eleven-year-old was too good to believe …so I didn’t. Nevertheless, it got pretty darn close. Five feet, still not an easy putt. Steve squared off to do it again.

One stroke, two strokes, three strokes, contact, follow through, and again the ball rolled over the green straight for the cup. Only this time there was no doubt where it was gonna end up. It was headin’ for home. It hit the cup slightly off-center and started to drop after it circled the edge a time or two. Centrifugal force took over, however, and the ball made an exit stage right.

There it sat, less than a blade of grass away from the cup looking as sad as the sigh from the crowd. I tried with everything I had to call forth my power to command the wind. Forget lightning and thunder, one small breeze was all it would take. Just this one time, and I promised never to ask again. Apollo, Zeus, and Thor all turned a deaf ear.

Without ceremony, Steve didn’t even bother to square up; a light tap put it in. He then slung that putter over his shoulder, strutted off the green right past his opponent, and without a pause looked dead up at him, and said, “Next.”

At last count, it was 16 and the ball was nowhere near the cup. The putting contest was over, but in frustrated determination, the poor kid had turned it into a contest with himself. It was difficult not to feel pity, for that is one contest you can never win.

Steve picked up his trophy, I picked up my ten, and we headed back for home. He sat silently holding his prize. We were both too proud to talk. After awhile, Steve turned towards me, smiled, and said, “You know, this trophy belongs to both of us, Bro.”

What a word, I thought. ‘Bro.’ Just by the tone he used, the feeling he expressed when he said it, it defined a relationship between two men like no other. The word has had special meaning to me ever since. I’m not your dad, I’m not your brother, I’m not even your friend. I’m your Bro.

It’s been nineteen years since that day, and Steve still calls me Bro.
…and no, I did not split the ten.

Epilogue

What became of Steve?

Somehow, I ended up with legal custody and helped him get through his later teen-years. As difficult as that was, I never would have imagined that skinny-ass, beanpole, nail-biting, pimple face would grow up to become a ‘Ford Agency’ high-fashion model traveling the world first-class on their dime, making around $3000. a day. And, between dates he conducts seminars for top CEO’s on… ‘Confidence Building’.

…and no, he does not split the three-grand.

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Happy Demise Day, chapter from …The Twain Shall Meet

Wednesday, April 21st, 2010

Excerpt from: The Twain Shall Meet. Happy Demise Day, Mark Twain

We woke Mark up with only ten minutes overtime. Connie had him close his eyes while she guided him to the deck. The whole trip; open your eyes, SURPRISE!!! Yeahhhhh! Up with the music.

Mark didn’t know what to think, other than we’d lost our minds.

Puzzled, dazed, he looked nervously around at the balloons and decorations, the bubbling Jacuzzi, candles and all, and then asked us what was going on.

“It’s a party, Mark, a Jacuzzi party …in your honor.”

He stiffened a bit and shot a glance at the sign, but relaxed when he saw it wasn’t there.

“In my honor? May I enquire as to the occasion?”

“Happy Demise Day,” we cheered, holding our Baileys up for a toast.
“Demise Day?”

“Right, it’s the Diamond Jubilee of the day of your demise. Speech, speech…” I turned down the music.

I thought for a minute there that I would go on record as the one who put Mark Twain at a loss for words. Never happen. He stood erect, cleared his throat, and began:

“’tis an honor to be called to such a special occasion, this Diamond Jubilee …more so since I am the one it is honoring. It has seemed eons since that first celebration of my demise, though I did not attend that one, consciously that is, I am sure there was a sizable few who felt they had cause for celebration, and welcomed the opportunity with enthusiasm. After three-quarters of a century, many would think that I might be slowing down. Let me assure them, as far as my demising goes, I have not yet begun.”

‘Here, here …Cheers!’ Then we downed what was left of the Baileys.

After Mark changed into his red hula trunks, we all slipped slowly into the ol’ Jacuzzi… ‘Ahhhhhhh’. Mark gave it a double ‘Ahhhhhhh’. An eight-person Jacuzzi with only three people leaves a lot of room without having to wait your turn to try all the different combinations of jets to body parts.

Mark seemed in his element, finding the shoulder blade-lower back-calves-foot coordinated pulsating jet position, in less time then it takes a moray to nestle into a crevice.

I popped the champagne, and poured. No matter what changes women may make, on down to turning all men into submissive eunuchs, cork-popping will always be the man’s job.

“Ahhh yes, champagne,” Mark said after a sip. “I should have known. Finally, I have found a perfection that has not changed, or has needed to. The one thing the French got right. A toast: To that little monkish monsignor who first uttered, ‘My lord, I am drinking stars’.”

We ate and drank, and drank and ate, while effervescent bubbles from air jets and fizz from champagne turned us into jellyfish. We even got Mark to do one of his stories, the one about the man bending over with the ram lining up to charge him. Connie confirmed that he didn’t miss a word; it was exactly as she’d read numerous times.

After fritters and before oysters, we presented Mark with High Eagle’s dream catcher – a pentagonal frame woven with various homespun threads in several desert sunset colors, and decorated in beads, shells, and hawk feathers – an ingenious Hopi invention that filters out bad dreams but captures the good ones.

A tricky thing to do, important too, ’cause if the dream catcher maker screws up, you could get in an incubus amount of trouble. Never fear, when it comes to dream catcher making, High Eagle knows his business.

We reassured Mark that High Eagle, a fifteenth generation hippie Hopi shaman of the corn clan, protector of the eastern light and guided by the healing flute vibrations of the Kachina Kokopelli, was rated as one of the top dream catcher makers in the country, twice on the cover of Dream Catcher Magazine, chairman of Shamanist International, and proprietor of Shaman r’ us head shop.

We brought out the key lime pie with candles and sang ‘Happy Demise day to youuuu…’ Demise day being the opposite of birthday, Mark made a wish and lit the candles, but wouldn’t tell us what he wished, after which I gave him the greeting card I’d made.

He admired the abstract design, said something about it being a fitting depiction of my mind – a left-handed compliment, to be sure – and read aloud…

To the laziest man I ever knew,
Who after 75 years of rest…
Gets up and yawns,
looks out and says,
“…think I’ll take a vacation from death.”

“My utmost compliments on your verse, particularly the way it so directly fits the person of subject. I have always been lazy, I was born lazy. From the beginning of my sojourn in this world there has been a persistent vacancy in me where industry ought to be. I see no reason why my state of demise should change that.”

“Reid,” Mark said as though he had something he wanted to bring up, but was not sure how to begin. “I do not wish to diminish the significance of this celebration, nor would I wish to impinge on any aspect of its good time, but would I be wrong in pointing out that the year 1910 subtracted from 1986 would leave us with an extra year to this jubilee?”

Damn! I was hoping nobody noticed.

“Well’p, you know Mark,” I said with a slow drawl that he could relate to, “I thought about that, kicked it around my calculator several times. Even tried changing year one to year zero, but that cantankerous calculator would not cooperate to my satisfaction. So I resorted to a technique I’ve recently learned from a dear friend.” I paused to demonstrate another technique I’d also learned from that same dear friend.

“And what, if I may ask, might that be?”

I forced myself to extricate from a most comfortable position, turned to my dear friend, and replied, “Never let truth get in the way of a good story, never let facts get in the way of a good laugh, and never let dates get in the way of a good cause for celebration.”

He gave me a knowing grin, and let it go at that.

All say, “How hard it is that we have to die”– a strange complaint to come from the mouths of people who have had to live.” MT

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Gunn Control High

Friday, April 2nd, 2010

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Book Video Trailer: The Twain Shall Meet

Wednesday, March 24th, 2010

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Lonely Planet Grind

Wednesday, March 10th, 2010

Judging by the PM’s I’ve been getting lately, it appears a lot of people are thinking about a more nomadic lifestyle. With the economy in the toilet and heading for the sewer and jobs disappearing faster than the family farm, it’s little wonder why a feeling of desperation has many thinking, ‘I gotta get the hell outta here’. But where? If my experience of over three decades as an incurable peregrinator can be of any help, I submit what I’ve learned so far.

Lonely Planet Grind

I needed to find untouched culture
A place to calm the mind
Where I could experience our past
The heart of humanity, the roots of mankind

Where could I find such space…
Where does this experience reside…
With nowhere to turn I bought the latest edition of
‘Lonely Planet Guide’

I thought the beaches of Bolivia
Would be nice to see
Too late,
They’ve been overrun by Chile

Lonely Planet said Titicaca
Machu Picchu is best
You and 3,000,000 others a year
On this spiritual quest.

In Sri Lanka, said Lonely Planet
Buddha’s tooth is persevered in Kandy
You may even spot the vanishing Tamil tiger
That sounded just dandy

But the guidebook failed to mention
A very important thing
Tamil tigers are the ones
Who actually do the hunting

Another must was Thai’s Royal Palace,
The world’s largest reclining emerald Buddha,
Exotic temple dancers in colorful sarong
And All-Nite Live U-See Stage Many Girlie Girlie Make Sex
In Bangkok’s sleazy Patpong

Lonely Planet raved Bali’s Kula Beach
Waves ranked surf first rate
I also learned the local dialect like,
G’day’, and ‘ave another piss, mate’.

Himal, Mount Everest Base Camp
The end of the planet
With hot showers, on time stock quotes
And micro-linkup Internet

Srinagar, Kashmir, hey, maybe I could buy a cheap sweater
But Islamic separatists and Hindu factions said I could do better

There’s always China, I thought,
Ancient past,
Ornate shrines,
Wisdom of the Tao
But the Cultural Revolution sledge hammered
And replaced it with
The Teachings of Mao

The South Pacific, Bali Hai is calling
That sounded like fun
Nope, missionaries changed all that
Where are cannibals when you need ‘em…

Tibet, Lhasa, Dalai Lama, Potola
the guide insisted was a must
But ya gotta wait three months to get a visa to ride
…in a typical-tourist, tinted-window, air-conditioned tour bus

The Mediterranean, Greek Islands in summer
Now that sounded like the place to be
By the time I got there Bohemians lined the beaches
Selling Indian jewelry

Remember primitive Bora-Bora
It’s now a Lifestyles Of The Rich and Shameless resort
Some people should have to pass a test
Before being issued a passport

Surely Greenland’s untouched arctic beauty
Thule’s gotta be the place for me
Wrong again…
The Inuit either had tuberculosis or were dying of dysentery.

Alaska fared no better
I explored its wilderness to find
100,000 caribou trying to figure out
How to get around a pipeline

Venice, gondolas, cathedrals, canals
I don’t know what I was thinking
That place has so many visitors a year
The whole city is slowly sinking

Well how ’bout the rainforests of Costa Rica
The sound of a mating Macaw…
But that was hard to hear
Over an un-muffled chainsaw

The guidebook said there was an Amazon tribe
That lived worlds apart
When I found that tribe they wanted to know
If I’d accepted Jesus into my heart

From Timbuktu to Tierra del Fuego
Is there no serenity…
Even Kalahari bushmen are hawking tiger teeth
And illicit ivory

A perfect guidebook should be written with flair
Tell the reader there’s a paradise
But don’t dare tell ‘em where

It’s enough to know it exists
Let that challenge your true grit
Half the fun in any pursuit
Is the adventure in how you find it

I followed Lonely Planet’s directions, did exactly as told
How stupid can you get when it said clearly on the cover
‘…Over 10,000,000 copies sold!’

Epilog:
The Lonely Planet Guide is still a good reference if you follow this suggestion…
Read what it has to say about your destination
Then head in the opposite direction…

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A Storm In Any Port

Thursday, February 25th, 2010

A Storm In Any Port

It’s the looniest ship I ever sailed
What’d I expect to find
Once I pulled anchor
Left firm shore behind…

Sailing the ocean is scary
Which is why ‘Offshore’ has been defined:
Out of:
(a) Sight of land
(b) Your mind

Especially with no compass, charts or sextant
One prop had a broken screw
And, to make matters worse, could one imagine
This ship had no crew

It did have many strange gizmos
Plus the damnedest contraptions
And who in maritime ever heard
Of a ship with two captains…

It’s easy to fantasize
Though hard to keep afloat
In spite of romantic visions
It’s not the ‘Love Boat’

Her ballast was not enough
To keep her right adrift
So when she took a starboard wave
She had a mean port list

In shallow straight she’s treacherous
Doesn’t handle with ease
You’d do better maneuvering
The Exxon Valdez

In a storm, I’d damn the torpedoes
Throttle full speed ahead
But the other captain demanded
Another course instead

I explained to this Captain Bligh
We’re headin’ for disaster
There’s never been a ship
That can serve two masters
But we both had equal experience
When it came to this sea
So we couldn’t agree
What makes you El Capitàn
Ahead of me…

However, the more we’d navigate
The more we’d cooperate
And appreciate
Aye, aye, mate

In certain storms, I found
The other captain usually knew
The best way to get around

By the same token
I’m the one best at fixing
Anything that’s broken

I’m also program director
For games, contests and more
I always win, never lose,
…’cause I also keep the score

The other captain is gifted in the galley
Which any fool could see
When I make raviolis
It’s gourmet Chef Boyardee

It took some time to figure
What each of us knows
Although we’re still working it out
And stepping on each others toes

We both find it difficult
A source of constant frustration
To come to a conclusion
What exactly is our destination…

To me it sounded terrific
Why not sail the South Pacific…
But the other captain insists on knowing
Which islands in specific…

We do agree however,
No difference near or far
S’long as we lay on deck at night
And count each falling star

There’re still plenty of storms to maneuver
No weather’s always fair
And this ship keeps me busy
In constant need of repair

Aye, it’s hard work, but worth it
So when my tour of duty was done
I had to admit rough times
Were far outweighed by fun

I know I’m probably out of my mind
But I re-enlisted for a permanent trip
On this rickety old boat
Someone aptly named
The HMS ‘Relation’ ship

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The Definitive Truth of Health Care

Wednesday, February 17th, 2010

Finally, the myths of health care are exposed.

The Definitive Truth of Health Care

Q: Doctor,  I’ve heard that  cardiovascular exercise can prolong life. Is this true?

A: Your heart is only good for so many beats, and that’s it…  don’t waste them on exercise. Everything wears out eventually.  Speeding up your heart will not make you live longer; that’s like saying you can extend  the life of your car by driving it faster.  Want to live longer?  Take a nap.

Q: Should  I cut  down on meat and  eat more fruits and  vegetables?

A: You  must grasp  logistical efficiencies.  What does a cow eat?   Hay and corn.   And what are these?  Vegetables.  So a steak is nothing more  than an efficient mechanism of  delivering vegetables to your  system.   Need grain?   Eat chicken.   Beef is also a good source of field grass (green leafy vegetable).   And a pork chop can give you 100% of your recommended daily allowance of  vegetable  products.

Q: Should I reduce my alcohol intake?

A:  No, not at all.  Wine is made from fruit.  Brandy is distilled wine, which means they take the water out of the fruity bit so you get even more of the goodness that way.   Beer is also made out of grain.  Bottoms   up!

Q: How can I calculate my body/fat   ratio?

A: Well,  if you have a body and you have  fat, your ratio is one  to one. If you have two bodies, your  ratio is two to  one, etc.

Q: What are some of the advantages of participating in a regular exercise program?

A: Can’t think of a single one, sorry.  My philosophy is: No Pain…Good!

Q:  Aren’t fried foods bad for you?

A:  YOU’RE  NOT  LISTENING!!! …..  Foods are fried these days in vegetable oil.  In fact,  they’re permeated in it.  How could getting more vegetables be bad for  you?

Q:  Will sit-ups  help prevent me from getting a little soft  around  the middle?

A: Definitely not! When you exercise a muscle, it gets bigger. You should

only be  doing sit-ups if you want a bigger   stomach.

Q:  Is   chocolate bad for me?  A:  Are   you crazy? HELLO   Cocoa beans ! Another vegetable!!! It’s the best feel-good   food around!

Q:  Is   swimming good for your figure?

A:  If   swimming is good for your figure,   explain whales to  me.

Q:  Is getting   in-shape important for my lifestyle?

A:  Hey!  ’Round’ is  a shape!

Well,   I hope this has cleared up any misconceptions you may   have had about food   and diets.

‘Life should  NOT  be a journey to the grave with the intention of  arriving

safely in an attractive and well preserved  body, but rather  to skid in

sideways – Chardonnay in one  hand – chocolate in  the other – body

thoroughly used up,  totally worn out and   screaming ‘WOO  HOO, What a

Ride’

1. The Japanese eat very little fat

and suffer  fewer heart attacks than  Americans.

2. The Mexicans eat a lot of  fat

and suffer fewer heart attacks than  Americans.

3. The Chinese drink very little red wine

and suffer fewer heart attacks than  Americans.

4. The  Italians drink a lot of red  wine

and suffer fewer heart attacks than  Americans.

5. The Germans  drink a lot of beers and eat lots of  sausages and fats  and

suffer fewer heart attacks than   Americans.

CONCLUSION

Eat  and drink what you like.

Speaking  English is apparently what kills  you.

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Twain and Mardi Gras

Tuesday, February 16th, 2010

Today is Mardi Gras, a party not always celebrated in literature. Both Tennessee Williams and William Faulkner, each of them once resident in New Orleans, hated what they saw as organized and desperate gaiety. But a twenty-three-year-old Samuel Clemens loved every minute, mask and madame of it, declaring that “an American has not seen the United States until he has seen Mardi-Gras in New Orleans.” Clemens made the St. Louis-New Orleans trip a handful of times while an apprentice pilot; the comment above comes from his March 9, 1859 letter to his sister, written the day after docking in New Orleans and literally bumping into the fun:

I posted off up town yesterday morning as soon as the boat landed, in blissful ignorance of the great day. At the corner of Good-Children and Tchoupitoulas streets, I beheld an apparition! — and my first impulse was to dodge behind a lamp-post. It was a woman—a hay-stack of curtain calico, ten feet high—sweeping majestically down the middle of the street…. Next I saw a girl of eighteen, mounted on a fine horse, and dressed as a Spanish Cavalier, with long rapier, flowing curls, blue-satin doublet and half-breeches…. And then I saw a hundred men, women and children in fine, fancy, splendid, ugly, coarse, ridiculous, grotesque, laughable costumes, and the truth flashed upon me—“This is Mardi-Gras!”

“Mardi-Gras,” an illustration from the first edition of Life on the Mississippi

Clemens spends the day wide-eyed, rapt by “…giants, Indians, nigger minstrels, monks, priests, clowns … the ‘free-and-easy’ women [with] costumes and actions very trying to modest eyes.” And then came the night, with the Mystic Krewe of Comus in torchlight procession:

…Then followed tall, grotesque maskers representing some ancient game … then the Queen of the Fairies, with a winged troop of beauties … then the King & Queen of the Genii, I suppose (eight or ten feet high) …followed by a couple of infinitesimal dwarfs … then figures whose bodies were vast drums, trumpets, clarinets, fiddles … followed by others whose bodies were pitchers, punch-bowls, goblets … then gigantic chickens, turkeys, bears, & other beasts and birds—then a big Christmas tree, followed by Santa Claus, with fur cap, short pipe, &c., and surrounded by a great basket filled with toys—and then—well I don’t remember half….

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Buzz Buzz

Tuesday, February 16th, 2010

The Twain Shall Meet is now in Book Buzz’r format, an eBook that looks like a real book.  Too cool.  Check it out.
The Twain Shall Meet: Book Buzz’r Format

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Is Literacy Really A Good Idea?

Monday, February 8th, 2010

Being a left-brain rather than a right-brain process, according to Author/Philosopher/Physician Leonard Shlain, literary progress may not be beneficial, as the following timeline demonstrates.  (Read closely ladies, it’s an eye opener)

3,000,000 – 2,900,000 years ago

1. Hominids differentiate away from other primates by becoming meat-eaters instead of vegetarians.
2. Extended childhood’s of hominid babies require prolonged attention from hominid mothers.
3. Males of the species predominately engage in hunting and killing.
4. Females primarily engage in nurturing and gathering.
5. Hominids become the first species of social predators in which the females do not participate in hunting and killing.

200,000 – 90,000 years ago

• Language develops.
• Homo Sapiens differentiate away from hominids.
• Language requires complete rewiring of human brains.
• Over 90% of language modules placed in the left hemisphere of right handed humans who comprise 92% of the population.
• Split Brain phenomenon becomes highly exaggerated only in humans.
• Most hunting and killing strategies placed in left hemisphere.
• Most nurturing and gathering strategies placed in the right side.

40,000 – 10,000 years ago

• Homosapiens organize into highly effective hunter/gatherer societies.
• Division of labor between sexes diverges more than in any other species.
• Males hunt and females nurture.
• Each sex develops predominate modes of perception and survival strategies to deal with the exigencies of life.
• Left hemispheric specialization leads to an increased appreciation of time.
• Humans become first animals to realize they will personally die.
• Awareness of death leads to formation of supernatural beliefs.
• Societies in which hunting is a more reliable source of protein than gathering elevate hunting gods over vegetative goddesses.
• Societies in which gathering is a more reliable source of protein than hunting elevate vegetative goddesses over hunting gods.
• In general, hunter/gatherer tribes worship a mixture of both spirits.

10,000 – 5,000 years ago

• Agriculture discovered/ Domestication of animals discovered.
• Crops need to be tended / flocks need to be nurtured.
• Female survival strategy of gathering and nurturing supersedes male hunting killing one.
• All early agrarian peoples begin to pray to an Earth Goddess responsible for the bountifulness of the land and fertility of the herds.
• She awakens the land in springtime and metaphorically resurrects Her weaker, smaller dead son/lover.

5,000 – 3,000 years ago

• Writing invented.
• Left hemispheric modes of perception, the hunting/killing side, reinforced.
• Literacy depends on linear, sequential, abstract and reductionist ways of thinking – the same as hunting and killing.
• Early forms of cuneiform and hieroglyphics difficult to master.
• Less than 2% literate.
• Scribes become priests and new religions emerge in which the god begins to supersede the goddess.

45,000 – 3,000 years ago

• Alphabet invented.
• Extremely easy to use.
• Near universal literacy possible.
• Semites – Canaanites, Phoenicians, and Israelites – become first peoples to become substantially literate.
• First alphabetic book is the Hebrew bible.
• Goddess harshly rejected from Israelite belief system.
• God loses His image.
• To know Him, a worshipper must read what He wrote.
• Images of any kind proscribed in first culture to worship written words.

3,000 – 2,500 years ago

• Greeks become the second literate culture.
• While not rejecting images, they suppress women’s rights.
• Athens and Sparta were two societies that shared the same language, gods, and culture and were in close proximity.
• Women had few rights in Athens: Women wielded considerable power in Sparta.
• Athenians glorified the written word: Spartan cared little about literacy.
• Socrates disdained writing and wrote nothing down. He held egalitarian views.
• Plato wrote extensively of what Socrates said. Not as generous toward women as Socrates.
• Aristotle represents Greek passage from an oral society to a literate one. He taught that women were an inferior subspecies of man.

2,500 years ago

• Buddha becomes enlightened in India.
• Buddha, though literate, writes nothing down.
• Teaches love, equality, kindness, and compassion.
• His words are canonized in an alphabetic book 500 years later.
• Book purports to show the Buddha had negative opinions about women, sexuality, and birth.
• Taoism and Confucianism arise in China.
• Taoism embodies feminine values: no attempt to control others, promotes Mother Nature as a guide.
• Confucianism touts masculine values: structures patriarchal society, touts Father Culture.
• Two systems of belief coexist in relative equilibrium until the Chinese invent the printing press in 923 AD Literacy rates soar.
• Soon after, Taoism declines and Confucianism becomes China’s dominant belief system.
• Women’s foot binding begins in 970 AD and becomes a common practice.
• Taoism transmutes into a hierarchy with sacred texts and temple priests.
• Taoist priests expected to be celibate Women’s rights plummet.
• In nearby Asian cultures that do not embrace literacy, women’s rights remain high.

2,000 – 1,500 years ago

• Roman Empire achieves near universal alphabetic literacy rates due to the stability of Pax Romana, tutors from Greece, papyrus from Egypt and an easy to use Greek and Latin alphabet.
• New religion emerges based on the sayings of a gentle prophet named Jesus.
• His oral teachings embody feminine values of Free Will, love, compassion, non-violence, and equality.
• Jesus writes nothing down.
• Women play prominent role in new religion.
• Paul commits to writing what he interprets to be the meaning of the Christ event.
• Subsequent Gospel writers detail Christ’s crucifixion, death and resurrection.
• Creed that evolves increasingly emphasizes masculine values of obedience, suffering, pain, death, and hierarchy.
• Alphabetic text becomes canonized in 367 AD Women banned from baptizing or conducting sacraments.
• Ordered to back of the church and ejected from the choir.
• Christians destroy Roman images.

1,500 – 1,000 years ago

• Rome falls to barbarian invasions.
• Literacy lost in secular society.
• Dark Ages begin.
• When stage of history re-illuminated in the 10th century, women enjoy high status.
• Age suffused with love of Mary.
• People know her through her image not her written words.
• Women mystics revered.
• Women Cathars and Waldensians baptize.
• Abbesses lead major monasteries.
• Chivalric code instructs men to honor and protect women.
• Courtly love becomes all the fashion.
• Cathedrals dedicated to Notre Dame.
• Religious art flourishes.
• Few outside the Church can read and write.

1000 – 1453

• High Middle Ages characterized by a renewed interest in literacy.
• Commerce demands literate clerks. Literacy rates climb.
• Masculine values begin to reassert dominance over feminine ones.
• Renaissance begins. Cult of the individual encourages male artists, male thinkers, and macho themes in art.

1454 -1820

• Gutenberg’s printing press makes available alphabet literacy to the masses.
• Books become affordable.
• Literacy rates soar in those countries affected by the printing press.
• Tremendous surge in science, art, philosophy, logic, and imperialism.
• Women’s rights suffer decline.
• Women mystics now called witches.

1517 – 1820

• Protestant Reformation breaks out fueled by many who can now read scripture.
• Protestants demand the repudiation of the veneration of Mary, the destruction of images.
• Protestant movement becomes very patriarchal.
• Ferocious religious wars break out fought over minor doctrinal disputes.
• Torture and burning at the stake become commonplace.
• Hunter/killer values in steep ascendance only in those countries impacted by rapidly rising alphabetic literacy rates.

1465 – 1820

• After the Bible, the next best selling book is the Witch’s Hammer; a how-to book for the rooting out, torture, and burning of witches.
• Witch craze breaks out only in those countries impacted by the printing press.
• Germany, Switzerland, France, and England have severe witch-hunts. All boast steadily rising literacy rates.
• Russia, Norway, Iceland, and the Islamic countries bordering Europe do not experience witch-hunts. The printing press has a negligible impact on these societies.
• Estimates range that between 100,000 women to the millions were murdered during the witch-hunts.
• There is no parallel in any other culture in the world in which the men of the culture suffered a psychosis so extreme that they believed that their wise women were so dangerous that they had to be eliminated.

1820 – 1900

• Invention of photography and the discovery of the electromagnetic field combine to bring about the return of the image.
• Photography does for images what the printing press had accomplished for written words: it made reproduction of images inexpensive, easy, and ubiquitous.
• Right hemisphere called upon to decipher images more than the left.
• Egalitarianism becomes a motif in philosophy.
• Protestantism softens its stance toward women.
• Mary declared born of Immaculate Conception by the Church elevating her status.
• Nietzsche declares “god is dead.”
• Suffragette movement coalesces in 1848.

1900 – 1950

• Photography and electromagnetism combine to introduce many new technologies of information transfer.
• Telegraph, radio, film, and telephone reconfigure the world.
• Communists demand redistribution of wealth.
• Capitalists demand less government interference.
• Natives restless, servants surly; everywhere paternalism is in retreat.
• Women receive the vote in 1920 in the U.S. and 1936 in England.
• Russia, an oral society recently becomes literate in the 19th century.
• Great burst of male creativity.
• Outbreak of religious intolerance against the Jews.
• Russian Communism repeats all the madness of Europe’s first brush with alphabet literacy.
• Hitler, armed with a microphone and radio, hypnotizes Germany, one of the most literate countries of the world.
• Mother Russia, an oral society, is bedeviled by literacy.
• Germany, the Fatherland, becomes susceptible to madness by oral technology.

1950 – 2000

• Popularity of television explodes after the end of WWII.
• Television requires different mode of perception than reading.
• Iconic information begins to supersede text information.
• Image of the atomic bomb blast and earth beamed back from space change the consciousness of the world more than any written books.
• Society begins to elevate feminine values of childcare, welfare, healthcare, and concern for the environment.
• Feminist movement of the 60s occurs in the first television generation.
• World wars abate among the literate countries affected by television image.
• Invention of personal computer greatly changes the way people interact. Graphic icons increasingly replace text commands.
• Internet and WorldWideWeb based on feminine images of nets and webs. Iconic Revolution begins.
• Everywhere alphabets come into usage religions based on sacred alphabetic books come into being.
• These all share certain characteristics.
• Women banned from conducting religious ceremonies.
• Goddesses declared abominations.
• Representative art in the form of images declared “idolatry.”

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The Unforgettable Stranger

Thursday, February 4th, 2010

On the various writers’ forums where we struggling unsung congregate, occasionally you happen upon a story that touches you in a special way.  This is just such a story by Rain Ray.  So, I’d like to share it here with my friends.

The Unforgettable Stranger

Have you ever passed a woman on the street that was so stunningly beautiful you wanted to politely stop her and tell her–no hidden agenda, no subtle hustle, just letting her know her beauty was noticed?

She was like seeing a breathtaking painting in an art gallery: I didn’t need to own or possess her beauty. I was just taken by her. I found it difficult not to stare. She chose a seat on the bus where no one could sit between us. I smiled and said hi, and in the friendliest tone she returned the hello. I married a beautiful woman, so I seldom found myself intimidated around nice looking women, but this strange, attractive, young woman actually caused me to be a little nervous. After our brief exchange, I thought that would be the end of the stranger-says-hello-to-stranger encounter, and began reading the newspaper I had just bought.

“Do you read a lot?” she asked with a smile.

“Only if it’s news about the end of the world,” I said with a grin. She laughed. Even her laughter was magnetic; with its lightness and sincerity.

She paused, and then said, “Did you know there are bacteria on the lime they squeeze into your drink? I love living life on the edge.” She intentionally made the remark in an overly serious tone that really struck me funny.

It was as if we were old friends. I couldn’t believe the ease with which we were talking. We both laughed at the same things. I was surprised at how relaxed we had both become in such a short amount of time. I was happily married, but I loved the way my heart felt, talking with this amazingly beautiful young woman.

Finally, I asked her, “Are you a model?” After I asked the question, I wanted to take it back.

She looked at me with her entrancing eyes, then in an obvious and playful way she replied with a sly grin, “That’s so ironic, I was about to ask you the same thing.” It was perfect timing, and we caught ourselves laughing, again.

Then she said something that truly surprised me. “Would you think me too forward if I asked you to share a cup of coffee with me? I know this nice outside cafe a few blocks from here, and I have a little time before I leave for the airport. I thought you were so friendly, and we hit it off…I wondered…if..”

Without thinking of anything else, I blurted out “I’d love to.”

I wasn’t trying to pick her up, but she was fascinating, and I wanted to know more about her. I wanted to hear her laugh more, talk more, feel this odd feeling just a little longer. We sat outside on this beautiful morning, and talked almost non-stop. There were no awkward moments. I didn’t feel uncomfortable, or pressured in any way . We were two total strangers who, for whatever reason, hit it off, and seized the moment. It was unforgettable, and I think she felt the same way. The time flew by. We had talked about a little of everything, then she looked at her watch.

“It’s time. I can’t believe we had so much fun, and were so relaxed doing it. And, you didn’t try once to hit on me,” she laughed out loud as she slid her chair back.

“And finally, I didn’t have to fend a woman off for a simple conversation,” I said, smiling.

There life had put us; for a second, I felt a twinge of sadness. I realized how rare such encounters were. I looked at her once more; we stood,  she picked up her purse and prepared to leave. My God, she was striking, I thought to myself.

“Well, I guess I won’t ever see you again, but I just want to tell you what a pleasure it’s been meeting you. You take care, and never, ever change that magnetic personality,” I said as she moved toward me.

Without warning, she laid her purse back on the table, wrapped her arms around me and gave me the sweetest, most heartfelt hug. She then tenderly kissed my cheek. I was caught off guard. She picked up her purse…looked me in the eyes…leaned close to my ear, and whispered.

“Good-bye, Dad, you were everything I’ve dreamed you would be.”

She then hurried to a waiting cab; I stood motionless as my mind raced through summers past…

Excellent Rain.

http://www.myspace.com/rayneighbor

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Readers Favorite says Twain 5*

Thursday, January 28th, 2010

Top US reviewer , Readers Favorite, gave …The Twain Shall Meet  a 5*review and complimented author j guevara.

An encounter with Mark Twain,

In 1986, the year of Halley’s comet, Reid, on his regular pre-dawn Key West beach stroll, stumbles across and elderly gentleman who verifiably proves to be the Mark Twain, white suit and all. Apparently, news of Twain’s demise, even after 75 years, has again been greatly exaggerated. Losing the wager they make, Reid lives up to his part of the bargain by providing Twain with room and board for the next 30 days.

Curious to see what has occurred since his last departure in 1910, Reid sets out to bring Twain up to date from political correctness to modern inventions with a whirlwind tour of live blues, a nude bar, an Indian reservation, past fields of Latino migrants, Epcot, Disneyworld and a return flight. All building toward an awe inspired packed audience to witness Twain’s final performance of commentary on today’s human condition in his typical wit, humor and wisdom

I’m not so sure j guevara hasn’t actually met Samuel Clemons, aka Mark Twain. Twain’s dialogue especially in his performance near the end of the book is realistic. I found The Twain Shall Meet, entertaining, humorous and a delightful read.

This is the first book I have read by author j guevara. I eagerly await his next book. J has that special something that few authors have. It is a special gift that you are either born with or not. Guevara was born with it. The characters are life-like and likable. The plot is interesting and has a message to it. The Twain Shall Meet is the type of book that compels you to reread. Well done Mr. j guevara!

Tags: commentary, fiction, humor, j guevara, Mark Twain, Novel, Readers Favorite, review
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The Problem With Labels

Tuesday, January 12th, 2010

I found this on http://www.whoiswaltlong.com , and thought  it worthy to share, since many of us have a similar problem simply because as we get older our perspectives,  perceptions, truths, and general beliefs change, making it difficult to maintain our ideals. So with Walt’s permission…

I am neither Republican nor Democrat, conservative nor liberal – and definitely not Libertarian, Socialist or Communist.

I have to reject all the labels that are thrown around so carelessly, because sooner or later, I’m asked to betray the best interests of society.
Republican? No, rampant pomposity and narrowness of vision have always left me cold.
Democrat? Ha! Only 2 people can determine a product’s worth – the owner and the person who is willing to pay for it.
Conservative? Even conservatives don’t like conservatives, and too often the goal is to “conserve” the status quo.
Liberal? All things being equal, all things are not equal.
Libertarian? They had me at freedom…and lost me with their national platform that is the definition of anarchy.
Altruistic? Possibly…but in fairness, I would have to answer “possibly” to all the above.
It seems as though I’m always in category 3:”None of the above.”

My greatest concern is that while the country is angrily choosing op sides, the truth will be trampled and forgotten as an insignificant footnote.

It would seem that now, more than ever, we need to find a “common ground” where individualism and compassion can co-exist.

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On this day Abraham Lincoln signed the Emancipation Proclamation

Friday, January 1st, 2010

I cause from every creature
His proper good to flow:
As much as he is and doeth,
So much he shall bestow.

But, laying hands on another
To coin his labor and sweat,
He goes in pawn to his victim
For eternal years in debt.

Pay ransom to the owner,
And fill the bag to the brim.
Who is the owner? The slave is owner,
And ever was. Pay him.

O North! give him beauty for rags,
And honor, 0 South! for his shame;
Nevada! coin thy golden crags
With Freedom’s image and name.
Emerson

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KAWFEEE-klaus is coming to town

Sunday, December 20th, 2009

A free eBook copy of…The Twain Shall Meet.  I thought it was a nice present to give everyone for their new Kindle/Nook/Sony eReader Santa brought ‘em.

Your present will be waiting for you all day, but remember my  day starts 12-hrs ahead of EST, so you should be able to find it by noon on Christmas Eve.

Happy Holiday season to all.  Your friend KAWFEEE-Klaus — trying to get ol’ bah humbug  j in the spirit

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Advice for book buyers

Thursday, December 17th, 2009

If you  cannot find my novels it could be because you went to the…

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Happy Birthday Mark Twain

Sunday, November 29th, 2009

175 years and still news of your demise has been greatly exaggerated.

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From The Jungle: monkeyshines, shenanigans and primitive opinions

Saturday, November 28th, 2009

Most times I didn’t believe it myself. I even questioned if jungle solitude had adversely affected my mind. When I counted the missing beers and the misplaced rum, however, and looked at the mess that was left after every session, I knew I’d been blessed by Nature’s best. My Jungle friends, that gang of monkeys with their toucan and python I call the Motley Crew, are just that, and a rare breed they are. Not since Man has climbed down from the trees has a man been more privileged to share the wit and insight of those still so close to the source. They have shown me the meaning of ‘lesser’ intelligence, and if there is a missing link, it must be you and I.

Many will say I had an illusion, for nothing in the jungle speaks to man, it’s just animals, birds, bugs, and trees. I understand their query, though no longer share their doubt. The defining line here is truth, which is unique in everyone who cares to see. Thus, the truth that abides in you is what makes you different from the truth that abides in me. Defined truth, however, the one we readily share, is but an agreed reality, which makes reality nothing more than a collective hunch. Therefore, truth is not important in the question of, ‘To be or not to be’. For in truth what you will find is that only… Imagination, shall set you free.

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Cookin’ Away With j: the man who takes the ‘T’ out of diet

Saturday, November 28th, 2009

Tea Smoked Duck

This easy to do, long time to get ready, Chinese dish is a guaranteed hit that’ll make you look like a Tao master, wiser than Confucius.

One whole duck – Cornish hens or chicken also works (or is it ‘woks’?).  I don’t skin it, but I do trim off some of the excess fat and the Pope’s nose.
Small bottle of sake
A few cloves of chopped garlic
Chopped onion scallions
A few pieces of star anis

Put it all in a plastic cooking bag – make sure it doesn’t leak – and marinate in the fridge for about two hours or three days, turning it every time you think about it.

When ready, take four wooden chopsticks and form a tic-tac-toe with them in your wok.  Place the duck on the chopsticks and pour the sake over, into, and under.  Cover (your wok should have come with a cover) and steam for about an hour.

Then take the duck with sticks out, clean the wok, put a piece of aluminum foil in the bottom and place a palm of brown sugar and a heaping palm of black tea on it.  Put the duck with sticks back into the wok, cover, and turn on the heat as high as you can.  Although you keep the lid on tight, you’re going to have some smoke escaping, so you’ll need a ventilation fan running the whole time.  This will be cause for concern from your neighbors, so it might also be a good idea to call the fire department beforehand and tell them it’s a false alarm.

Smoke it ‘til there’s no more smoke trying to escape, about  20 minutes to a half hour.  The duck will turn a chocolate brown, and the taste will be dynamite.  Uncle Ben’s wild rice mix, and sautéed Brussels sprouts go great with this dinner, and if you’re making it for just the two of you, there should be plenty left over for the firemen, who even knowing it’s a false alarm, will respond anyway once word spreads about your delicious Tea Smoked Duck

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…The Twain Shall Meet

Saturday, November 28th, 2009

Even pale, cold and drenched to the bone, in his wet, salty, once white suit, and his unkempt crop of white hair, he could have passed for Colonel Sanders.  By the unweatherd look of the dinghy, he couldn’t have been adrift for long before the tide washed him ashore.  Face wasn’t weathered, lips weren’t parched.  As I lifted him out, he coughed seawater, so I laid him face down and pushed with both hands on his back.  Cough got stronger, pulse was good.  He was coming around.

As I rolled him over, he was conscious enough to motion that he wanted to sit up.  Just then that first rush of incoming tide rolled over the sand, so I helped him to higher ground.  He couldn’t have weighed much over one-forty, wasn’t tall or agile; certainly not in his prime.  I guessed he was in his seventies.

I took the bottle of Perrier out of my pouch, unscrewed the cap, and handed it to him.  As he gulped it down I suggested he sit here and rest while I go call an ambulance.

He grabbed my arm, not a tight grip, but firm enough to make his point.  “That will not be necessary.  I will be fine.  Please,” he insisted.

Dehydrated and maybe suffering from who knows what, he needed help, professional help; or at least a quick look by someone better qualified than a nightly beach bum who couldn’t pass a Scouts’ badge in first aid.  But he was insistent, even in his diminished condition, so I went along.

Normally, I wouldn’t have been on the beach at this hour. Usually I took my stroll after dusk; but this was the year of Halley’s comet, and Key West was the best location in the continental U.S. to view this septuagenarian event.  Hence, as expected, Galileo wannabes from every state in the Union were scattered along the beach, adjusting their galactic magnifying glasses as if they were calibrating for the Mauna Kea Observatory.

Until this phenomenon passed, I resigned myself to predawn walks, after the sky gazers had shut down.  And again the beach was mine, all mine; that time with my mind when I get to play with my brain – my favorite pastime.

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The Site Launch!

Saturday, November 28th, 2009

Greeting’s y’all, welcome to the launch of my blogs and site. History in the making (I hope). Stick around or check back, will have something new everyday, if all goes as planned.

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