Having seen a few great, some very good, and many just good films lately and over the course of time, I can honestly say that Cloud Atlas completely blows every other film totally out of the water for sheer creativity in actualizing the potential of films for depth of narrative, visual beauty, acting and scope of vision.  It’s a truly beautiful film on multiple levels. If you have not yet seen Cloud Atlas then do yourself a huge favor and make time to view it as soon as possible.  It’s lengthy, complex, involved and demands complete attention.  I would love to comment extensively but that might limit your own acts of exploration and discovery while engaged with this piece of artistry. Yes, this is Film As Art and it’s quite incredibly spectacular!

Not yet interested?

Did you love The Matrix?

Are you a fan of Halle Berry, Tom Hanks, Jim Broadbent, Hugo Weaving, Jim Sturgess, Doona Bae, Ben Whishaw, James D’Arcy, Zhou Xun, Keith David, David Gyasi, Susan Sarandon and Hugh Grant? Imagine each playing multiple roles in multiple storylines which are all interconnected.

How open is your mind?

Yes, it’s been very quiet in my blogcasa since round one of “Breakfast Special.”  I confess that I’ve been wondering if further courses of “Breakfast Special” might be of interest to anyone wandering by.  Would anyone care to put in an order?

Frankly I think I’ve ranted, vented and held forth over time on most items broiling in my brainpan. Yet when Dirk Kirby’s documentary “The Invisible War” aired on my local PBS station via Independent Lens last night it supplied some motivational electro-shock therapy which prompted my earlier attempt at a blog post regarding the rape epidemic in the U.S. Military. I’d been aware of this issue for several years, but had no idea of the current ongoing scope and depth of the issue until viewing Kirby’s film.  While I’m aware that the violent crime of rape is widespread, under-reported and under prosecuted in America, I’d had not any idea just how callous the entire U.S. Military’s attitude is towards the crime in its own ranks.  Is this a logical consequence of the innate nature of the military itself as a vehicle for training people for combat that requires the death and destruction of other humans? Perhaps it is.

If so, why would any parent who puts forth the effort to raise children to be decent, caring, intelligent adults ever encourage their children to enlist in any military force? Why would parents want to have their children destroyed by a system which does not value human life?

I am at a loss for any rational answers to those questions and the host of others I have in regard to the specific issue of rape in the military and the institution in general.  It appears that being an “officer and a gentleman” is nothing more than illusion created by smart uniformed propaganda images.

Rape outrages many people when news of it surfaces in the media. The rapes of women in India have garnered world-wide attention.  People are appalled by rapes of children. Rape is recognized as a war crime.  No one seems to condone rape.  Yet it is a widespread violent crime which knows no social, political, economic nor religious boundaries.

Does the U.S. Military view the victims of rape within its ranks as simple collateral damage that is an acceptable byproduct of their own culture of acceptable violence?

Is this just a military problem or is it a human nature problem? If it’s human nature working out its dark side then what does it say about US?

Considering the recent issues regarding the Violence Against Women Act I wonder if we live in a culture which somehow deviously nurtures the act of rape.

Such is the current state of my brainpan stew. This is more or less the gist of the content which inexplicably vanished from my earlier post when I hit the “Publish” earlier today.

Anyone have any answers?

PBS Independent Lens –The Invisible War–

http://www.pbs.org/independentlens/invisible-war/

Due to technical difficulties some content is currently MIA.

Entering the tavern currently conducting its own version of fast food service for the dawn dwellers. he stood to the side and held the door open for an exiting trio of grumpy construction workers. Toe kicking the rock salt from his boots he scouted for an empty stool at the bar crammed with white plates featuring steaming eggs, butter brushed toast and a constantly flowing, heady stream of coffee into squat thick cups vying for countertop space with slippery side dishes flashing crisp thick bacon and fat spitting sausages. After some careful navigation between the hands passing plates from the bar to the fully occupied booths, he managed to slide onto a still warm shiny red stool where the bar snuggled flush up against the far wall. Upon opening his paint speckled wool army coat, he generously contributed his share of body heat to that already creating streaking condensation on the bar’s large front window. He commenced pounding the alternate ends of an unlighted cigarette on the counter while patiently waiting for the barkeeper to take his order.

After setting down four full plates for the customers seated at the curve in the bar near the entrance, the lanky, middle-aged barkeeper smoothed a few slack grey hairs back into place with the rest of a backcombed wave and turned to make eye contact with him. “What it be today?” he demanded while wiping his hands with his waist apron.

Imitating the barkeep’s thick Polish accent Sarge replied, “Ve vant da special. Overeasy, if you please, Stanley.”

Smirking, Stanley nodded. “You gonna be a smartass today, eh? Forget it, Sarge. No mood for funny business.” Stanley scratched the order on a small pad of white paper, clipped it to the wire across the top of the serving window, then picked up the waiting filled order. Plate in hand, Stanley strode to stand across from the customer sitting beside Sarge, before setting down the plate, Stanley growled, “No mood for your funny business, either. F’n poached eggs. Not again. Messes up cook’s grill timing. Got it?”

A hoarse female voice croaked out, “You asked how I wanted ‘em and I told you. You didn’t say “no poached eggs.” Now you gonna give me my order or you wanting to eat them dead chickies yourself, Stan?”

Holding back a laugh in consideration for the barkeeper, Sarge watched Stanley scowl as he set down the platter covered with a double order of milky eggs whites wrapped around gentle hints of yellow yolk and perfectly browned toast drenched with melted butter. Right gray eyebrow arched high, Stanley silently filled the poached egg orderer’s cup with coffee. He started to work his way to the other customers, then, with the nearly full fresh pot of black coffee in his left hand he stopped and looked from Sarge to the customer sitting next to him. Stanley’s pale blue eyes flashed between the two. “You two at same time not good on Stan’s nerves. Don’t get any ideas or eggs go kaput!” Without waiting for a response, Stanley set about filling the coffee cups of the other customers at the bar.

Sarge leaned sideways to set his shoulder against the wall so he could turn and get a better look at the young woman sitting next to him.  The Hudson Bay Blanket coat cut in old French Canadian trapper style drapped around her shoulders immediately culled her from the variety of working girls who frequented the bar during alcohol serving hours.  It also separated her from the nearby telephone company’s swing shift working women. That left college student pulling an all nighter or some variation thereof. But the last wasn’t quite fitting the bill either in Sarge’s mind since there was no need for such creatures to venture off the perpetually buzzing college grounds for a cheap breakfast special in a working class bar.  Hoarse Voice was busy poking the pointed edge of toast into what he considered an obscenely salted egg yolk. “Having a little egg with your salt, huh?”

A mass of long black hair crackling with static electricity was pushed back over a shoulder hunched inside the Hudson Bay Blanket coat, then a white face, made paler from the lack of any real sun during weeks of perpetual snow, with assessing dark brown eyes turned towards him. She sipped coffee to mix with her mouthful of eggs and toast, chewed slowly, then swallowed, all the time staring directly at him. She sniffed a little, then said, “Yep. Three spoons of sugar in my coffee too. You wanna make something of it?” Caught off guard by the effect on him of the unexpectedly sharp lines of her cheeks and bold aggressive eyes, Sarge simply shook his head of brown shaggy hair in reply and Hoarse Voice’s attention immediately turned back to her food.

Sarge watched her small fingers set a fork to work covering a slice of toast with egg, fold it over and stuff nearly all of it into her thin-lipped mouth. More salt was shaken over the remaining eggs, more sugar, along with a very generous amount of cream, mixed with the new coffee that flowed quickly into her cup via the pot wielded by the quick sighted Stanley. Questioning his interest, Sarge continued his surveillance of her liberal saltings, pokings and smearing of eggs until his own plate arrived and distance required him to ask her to pass the Tabasco sauce. She complied readily then made a point of watching him rain red sauce upon his eggs until it pooled along the plate’s upward crease. Deciding to let her know he was aware of her watching him, Sarge twirled his fork in anticipation but turned toward her, clearly waiting for some comment. None came. Unable to resist, Sarge quipped, “What? Want a taste?”

She responded by looking his long broad frame up and down, slowly taking inventory of the well-worn jeans, heavy work boots and dark grey plain sweater. “Nope. Wouldn’t dream of depriving you.”

Sarge thought the better of uttering the sexually suggestive reply that skipped to his lips. He’d had a way too long night of loading freight, hunger for a great deal more than food had been gnawing at him for months, and he already knew his overtired body wasn’t going to settle down for the deep oblivious sleep he mentally craved. Instead of verbally needling the hoarse voiced woman, he commenced slicing and swirling his eggs through the Tabasco sauce and finally satisfying his stomach. Eggs, spices and black coffee worked their usual soothing magic.

After mopping up the remaining streaks of red sauce on his plate, Sarge took note of the departing early morning rush crowd, held up his empty cup for a refill then pulled a half read paperback copy of Dirk Gently’s Holistic Detective Agency from the inside pocket of his long coat. With the still unlite cigarette now resting between his lips, he pushed his plate away and flipped through the book. As he smoothed out the creased page corner, Stanley cleared Sarge’s plate and laid a cinnamon roll wrapped in a paper napkin on the counter in front of Hoarse Voice. Taking the cigarette between his fingers, Sarge looked up just enough to allow him to see Hoarse Voice’s reflection in the mirror behind the bar. Standing up she shucked her black sweatered arms back into her coat sleeves, hauled a thick orange backpack off the floor and onto her stool, fished out a man’s style wallet from the pocket in its flap, laid out enough to cover the bill and the  sort of tip an appreciative regular customer leaves, then yanked the Hudson Bay Coat belt tight enough to reveal a waist Sarge was frankly surprised to see considering the double breakfast special she’d just slammed down. Black straps went over both shoulders centering the pack. Her eyes slid sideways to the book in his hand just long enough to read the title as she picked up her sweet roll. When she pulled up the coat’s hood she caught him observing her in the mirror. She nodded at his reflection then turned and left.

Leaning back on his stool, Sarge watched her stop outside the tavern door while unwrapping a portion or the roll before walking off. He turned to lift his cup and found Stanley staring at him with a serious degree of curiosity as he poured himself a cup of coffee to enjoy in the current lull of customers. He set a side plate with Sarge’s usual sweet roll on it next to the paperback.

Sarge frowned at the barkeeper, shrugged then picked up his book. Sarge glared at the cover for a few moments before pulling a fiver out of his pocket and tossing it on the counter. Book in one hand, he grabbed the roll from the plate then made a fast exit leaving behind Stanley’s amused laughter.

Once outside in the snow hazy bleak excuse for morning sunshine, Sarge surveyed the street. Hoarse Voice was quickly jaywalking diagonally through the empty four way stop designated by red flashing lights.  With his longer legs all that was required was a slightly quicker pace to close the half block distance between them. Setting the necessary pace, Sarge took a big bite of the sweet roll, focused his sights first on the orange back pack then her black leather boots and went in pursuit of quenching more than what overeasy eggs swimming in hot sauce could ever dream of satisfying.

The following information is directly from Anne Fields who has been in direct contact with people on Pine Ridge Reservation who are currently in precisely the situation presented above.

Anne Fields:

There is a new situation on the Pine Ridge Indian Reservation in South Dakota (and presumably on other reservations) that is very dire and perhaps life threatening.

I am a white grandmother who has spent a total of 18 months on the reservation, including four months teaching in the Early Head Start program.  I have friends who are directly affected by the problem and who are growing more desperate each day.  So far my efforts to find information or help for them have been unsuccessful.

Each month the Bureau of Indian Affairs has been providing General Assistance grants (see below) to many residents who are desperately needy.  On Pine Ridge approximately 940 people receive monthly checks of up to $250.  These checks are often their only source of income and their lifeline.

In December 2012 no checks came.  I spent several hours on the phone with officials at the local, regional, and national levels trying to find out what had happened.  Eventually I ended up at the BIA Division of Human Services in Washington where I spoke with Bevette Hern at 202-513-7608.  She told me that there had been new software which had a glitch that was holding things up. She said it was now fixed and that the Treasury would get a file transfer shortly and that the Agencies should have the money by the end of that week.  This did indeed happen.

But then in March 2013 again no checks ever came and there were no notifications to the recipients.  The Post Offices were besieged by people looking for their money.  No checks have arrived for April 2013 and folks are seriously cold and hungry.  They do not know if the money will ever come again. They have had no information from the BIA.

In an effort to try to get some information regarding these crucial funds, I tried to call Bevette to see if this is a permanent situation, only to find that she is no longer working there (even though her answering machine still uses her name).  I spoke with someone who would only give her name as “Roberta” and who said that she knew nothing about the details, only that the money available for “Welfare” has been cut back.  She told me that I needed to talk to the BIA Great Plains Social Services in Aberdeen, SD.  I called them at 605-226-7351 and spoke with “Patti.”  She told me that Central Office has not received any funds so they have nothing to give out.  She recommended that I talk to the folks in Washington–the same people who directed me to call her office.

I have written to South Dakota Congresswoman Noem and Senators Johnson and Thune for clarification, but as of now I have heard nothing back from any of them.

BIA Human Services handles 6 components of Financial Assistance, which consist of:

1. General Assistance

a) An applicant must meet the criteria contained in 25 CFR 20.300 (Who qualifies for Direct Assistance)
b) Apply concurrently for financial assistance from other state, tribal, county, local, or other federal agency programs for which he/she is eligible;
c) Not receive any comparable public assistance, and
d) Develop and sign an employment strategy in the ISP with the assistance of the social service

worker to meet the goal of employment through specific action steps including job readiness and job search activities.

source: http://www.bia.gov/WhoWeAre/RegionalOffices/GreatPlains

So, what should Anne Fields and these 940 people on Pine Ridge Reservation DO to get some information from the BIA and/or the Federal Government?  Any suggestions? Even if you have no notions about how to deal with this continuing situation, please take a moment to send this information via your favorite internet social network sharing options.

Namaste.

candle lights marks

open doorway

entering you

linger

whispering

snuffing the wick

melting into darkness

exiting footprints in the night snow

in fog

water hangs waiting

dancing between globes

we meet

inclination not required

****

The full episode of What Plants Talk About is currently available for viewing http://www.pbs.org/wnet/nature/episodes/what-plants-talk-about/video-full-episode/8243/

It is very well worth an hour of your time to watch and learn what’s going on with all the leafy green things above and below ground. This is a very accessible program about some serious science. It’s also features beautiful photographic film work.

While enjoying quite a nice little mind vacation from nearly all things internet/online, this morning I ventured a peak at my email –just in case I’d missed anything of life and death import only to discover that someone had indeed been “born”–literally–and a friend’s link to an essay online which apparently points directly to the dominance/power/control/etc mentality that makes relationships HELL for many westerners. Considering how such “Hell on Earth” has the potential to fuel various incarnations of violence, I think that qualifies as of “death” import. Now, the significance of sharing news of another human birth is fairly self-evident for most folks, so I decline to comment further on said new mammalian arrival. As to the import of the other piece of information received via cyberspace mail services–well, its value rests on the stew it started stirring as I composed my response to the sharer of this little missive.  Apparently relationships between women and men are doomed due to the blind acceptance of cultural conditioning of certain myths involving plays for power between the genders.  I’m wondering how much “truth” regarding male/female relationships others might find in “This is not the Berenstain Bears bedtime story” by Jon Poindexter posted in full here:

Black Hills Clean Water Alliance   http://www.sdcleanwateralliance.org/

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Greetings –

Last Friday, we had the prehearing on Powertech’s application for two water permits and a ground water discharge permit (to spray waste water on the ground).  The good news is that the actual hearing on the applications before the state Water Management Board will not occur the week of March 18.  It will be postponed, which gives us more time to prepare.

However, hiring the experts we need for the hearings costs money — lots of money.  Our experts will talk specifically about how Powertech’s proposed project would damage groundwater and the land.  We have to have experts to oppose Powertech’s applications effectively.  We know who we want to hire, and it will cost over $15,000.  So we need both small and large donations to help us raise that money.

We also need general operating funds.  Clean Water Alliance is an all-volunteer organization, so your donations go directly to work against uranium mining in the Black Hills region.  Every bit helps.  Please give what you can.

Please  CLICK HERE TO DONATE and pass this message along to others who might be willing to help.

Your support is gratefully received.

For anyone who hasn’t seen them, here is the link to the comments by Dr. Robert Moran on the draft Supplemental Impact Statement prepared by Powertech.  These are the type of comments we would like our experts to do for the water permits hearing.  And this is why we are raising money –

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http://pbadupws.nrc.gov/docs/ML1302/ML13029A368.pdf

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The next Heartland Film Society screening will be “Flow” on Monday February 25, 2013. It will be at the Elks Theatre in Rapid City at 7 pm. Admission is $7.00. The screening is co-sponsored by the Black Hills Chapter of Dakota Rural Action. The film is about water and how important it is to protect it from corporations, both in the U.S. and internationally. It documents how local grassroots organizing can be effective. There will be a panel discussion afterwards with Debra White Plume, Bruce Ellison, and Becky Leas. They will be discussing the proposed uranium mining by Powertech in the Southern Black Hills.

Please come out and support this very important event. Bring a      friend or three. Thank you very much.       Clay and Mary Ellen Uptain and your Heartland Film Society      Committee.  http://heartlandfilm.wordpress.com/

*******

Greetings –

The next Clean Water Alliance meeting will be held on Saturday, March 2, at 10:00 a.m.  We’ll be meeting at Seattle’s Best coffeeshop’s meeting room again, as the library is not available.  The coffeeshop is located at the corner of 6th Street and St. Joseph Street — on the first floor of the Alex Johnson Hotel in downtown Rapid City.

See you there!

Lilias

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Another reprieve for Powertech –