FOR SALE: Fine, furniture-grade Stumbling Blocks, in solid woods and hardwood veneers.
Lovely accessories, add grace to your home decor as pedestals, plant stands, and as tasteful arrangements, combined with other pieces. Also useful as side tables, and with optional cushion, as foot stools or seats for small children.
Wonderfully inert, useful for stabilizing large piles of objects, as well as for stopping trucks, traffic, meeting agendas, and relationships. Quite heavy, on-site pickup only. Make offer.
Monday, March 9, 2009
A green collar job is not just a retooled blue collar job
Why is a a green collar job is not just a retooled blue collar job?
The old Division of Labor ignores the intricate web of life, and is what got us into our current environmental mess in the first place. The Green Collar Movement can't afford to perpetuate the destructive old division of thinking that is integral to the division of labor concept.
I have plenty more to say about this, which I'll add when I get a chance.
For definitions, refer to: http://ecopreneurist.com/2008/03/29/green-collar-jobs-defined/
The old Division of Labor ignores the intricate web of life, and is what got us into our current environmental mess in the first place. The Green Collar Movement can't afford to perpetuate the destructive old division of thinking that is integral to the division of labor concept.
I have plenty more to say about this, which I'll add when I get a chance.
For definitions, refer to: http://ecopreneurist.com/2008/03/29/green-collar-jobs-defined/
Thursday, January 22, 2009
Tuesday, January 20, 2009
From my cold, dead hands: Unwiring the first wired president
Note: this is a work of fiction. Would I take the time to vet all the details in this story? Be serious, it's not like anybody's paying for this stuff.
Barak Obama is the first wired president. Truly the model Type A leader, ever since his first term in the Illinois Senate, Obama has rarely been without his Blackberry. Michelle emailed legal insights, mixed in with updates on their daughters. His staffers would provide up-to-the-second news and floor vote margins, so he sometimes knew what the opposition was going to do, before his opponents themselves knew. Then he'd relax by texting sports, jokes, and opinions with friends. And so it's been, throughout a successful and meteoric rise.
But all that is about to end.
One morning soon, in the presidential bedroom:
Oh, what a first week! Is it Saturday already? I must have slept through the alarm. Hey, where’s my Blackberry? I plugged it in right here by the bed last night, and now it’s gone.
Barak sweetie, Rahm came by before you awoke, and took it. The Secret Service couldn’t secure the signal, and they got worried.
But I can’t be without my Blackberry. I am the Wired President, after all. What will people think? I need to call Rahm... now, where’s my Blackberry? Oh, right.
Where’s the dang phone? Okay, it’s a land line. I can do this… Where’s the dang speed dial? I don't know Rahm's number- will somebody call him?
Oh, he’s still downstairs? Okay, what button do I push for that?
Hi, Rahm? Great thanks, how’re you? Hey, Rahm, sorry I missed you when you stopped by this morning. Rahm, listen— I want my Blackberry back.
Mr. President, I’m afraid that won’t be possible…
Rahm Emmanuael, remember who you’re talking to. I am the President of the United States, and you are my Chief of Staff, and I want my Blackberry. Got that?
Barak, listen: You have people for that stuff now. You don’t have to…
Are you telling me what I don’t have to do? Jeez, why don’t ya just put blinders on me and stuff my ears with spitballs? Having a Blackberry is like having eyes in the back of my head. I can't just give that up, once I've gotten used to it. I feel so... so vulnerable.
Sir, we— your staff and I— are here to take care of that for you.
Oh, yeah. And next you’ll tell me Michael Jordan was more important to the Bulls when he wasn’t playing…
The president manages to survive the rest of the day, but not without a few withdrawal incidents and a lot of separation anxiety.
Late that night, an emotionally drained Obama falls into an exhausted but restless sleep. A few hours before dawn, he awakes screaming.
"No! No! From my cold, dead hands! From my cold, dead hands! From my…"
"Barak!" Michelle shakes him awake. "You’re having a nightmare. Wake up!"
He jolts upright, panting, the sweat glistening on his brow and dripping down the tightly clenched muscles of his face. In response to his screams, the bedroom door lock snicks open electronically, and two pairs of crewcut sunglasses come into view, whispering into their headsets.
"What was it, sweetie?” She cradled his shivering frame in her strong arms. "What were you dreaming about?"
"I was walking through the tunnel, on my way to address the House of Representatives, and my Blackberry rang in my pocket. I reached in, and it wasn’t there. But it just went on ringing, and then the ring sounded like one of the girls crying. I started running toward the sound, and suddenly I was outside, standing in the sun. It became a ring tone again, and there was George Bush, standing in the middle of the White House basketball court. He answered the call, on my Blackberry. My Blackberry! I yelled "Hey, that's mine!" and ran after him, and he ran away, yelling, “Hah-hah! You’re the president now, and I'm not, and you can’t have your Blackberry, and I can! And I’m going to use your Blackberry and text my friends and be hip, and make the three-point shots, and you’re not! Hah-hah-hah-hah!"
I lunged and tackled him then, and he kept cackling, until he howled when I twisted his wrist and snatched my Blackberry back again. But then a couple of enormous Secret Service guys grabbed me, and started prying my fingers open, trying to take my Blackberry away. I hung onto it and yelled, 'No! No! From my cold, dead hands! From my cold, dead hands, will you have to pry my Blackberry, to take it away from me!' And that’s when you woke me."
(c) 2009 David Calloway
Barak Obama is the first wired president. Truly the model Type A leader, ever since his first term in the Illinois Senate, Obama has rarely been without his Blackberry. Michelle emailed legal insights, mixed in with updates on their daughters. His staffers would provide up-to-the-second news and floor vote margins, so he sometimes knew what the opposition was going to do, before his opponents themselves knew. Then he'd relax by texting sports, jokes, and opinions with friends. And so it's been, throughout a successful and meteoric rise.
But all that is about to end.
One morning soon, in the presidential bedroom:
Oh, what a first week! Is it Saturday already? I must have slept through the alarm. Hey, where’s my Blackberry? I plugged it in right here by the bed last night, and now it’s gone.
Barak sweetie, Rahm came by before you awoke, and took it. The Secret Service couldn’t secure the signal, and they got worried.
But I can’t be without my Blackberry. I am the Wired President, after all. What will people think? I need to call Rahm... now, where’s my Blackberry? Oh, right.
Where’s the dang phone? Okay, it’s a land line. I can do this… Where’s the dang speed dial? I don't know Rahm's number- will somebody call him?
Oh, he’s still downstairs? Okay, what button do I push for that?
Hi, Rahm? Great thanks, how’re you? Hey, Rahm, sorry I missed you when you stopped by this morning. Rahm, listen— I want my Blackberry back.
Mr. President, I’m afraid that won’t be possible…
Rahm Emmanuael, remember who you’re talking to. I am the President of the United States, and you are my Chief of Staff, and I want my Blackberry. Got that?
Barak, listen: You have people for that stuff now. You don’t have to…
Are you telling me what I don’t have to do? Jeez, why don’t ya just put blinders on me and stuff my ears with spitballs? Having a Blackberry is like having eyes in the back of my head. I can't just give that up, once I've gotten used to it. I feel so... so vulnerable.
Sir, we— your staff and I— are here to take care of that for you.
Oh, yeah. And next you’ll tell me Michael Jordan was more important to the Bulls when he wasn’t playing…
The president manages to survive the rest of the day, but not without a few withdrawal incidents and a lot of separation anxiety.
Late that night, an emotionally drained Obama falls into an exhausted but restless sleep. A few hours before dawn, he awakes screaming.
"No! No! From my cold, dead hands! From my cold, dead hands! From my…"
"Barak!" Michelle shakes him awake. "You’re having a nightmare. Wake up!"
He jolts upright, panting, the sweat glistening on his brow and dripping down the tightly clenched muscles of his face. In response to his screams, the bedroom door lock snicks open electronically, and two pairs of crewcut sunglasses come into view, whispering into their headsets.
"What was it, sweetie?” She cradled his shivering frame in her strong arms. "What were you dreaming about?"
"I was walking through the tunnel, on my way to address the House of Representatives, and my Blackberry rang in my pocket. I reached in, and it wasn’t there. But it just went on ringing, and then the ring sounded like one of the girls crying. I started running toward the sound, and suddenly I was outside, standing in the sun. It became a ring tone again, and there was George Bush, standing in the middle of the White House basketball court. He answered the call, on my Blackberry. My Blackberry! I yelled "Hey, that's mine!" and ran after him, and he ran away, yelling, “Hah-hah! You’re the president now, and I'm not, and you can’t have your Blackberry, and I can! And I’m going to use your Blackberry and text my friends and be hip, and make the three-point shots, and you’re not! Hah-hah-hah-hah!"
I lunged and tackled him then, and he kept cackling, until he howled when I twisted his wrist and snatched my Blackberry back again. But then a couple of enormous Secret Service guys grabbed me, and started prying my fingers open, trying to take my Blackberry away. I hung onto it and yelled, 'No! No! From my cold, dead hands! From my cold, dead hands, will you have to pry my Blackberry, to take it away from me!' And that’s when you woke me."
(c) 2009 David Calloway
Before you get too gushy about Obama---
Yes, Obama is now the Commander in Chief of the nation's armed forces.
And of course, he should be respected and admired by military types.
But, really-- don't you wonder if things have gotten a little too cozy,
when they've renamed the places they sleep as "Baraks"?
(c) 2009 David Calloway
And of course, he should be respected and admired by military types.
But, really-- don't you wonder if things have gotten a little too cozy,
when they've renamed the places they sleep as "Baraks"?
(c) 2009 David Calloway
Sunday, April 27, 2008
Fun!Raising Fair for Black Liberation and Community Development
SUNDAY, MAY 4, 2 TO 6 PM:
3rd Annual Fun!Raising Fair, to benefit Black Liberation and Community Development in the Philadelphia Region, sponsored by the Philadelphia RC Communities
(If you're looking for the PLASTISAURUS story, skip a few blog entries down.)
COST: Pick your sliding scale donation: $5 to $50 at the door.
Call 215-848-6496 for tickets or info, or just show up!
Come learn-talk-share about our history-culture-ideas about ending racism.
Humans of all backgrounds, ages, and beliefs are welcome!!!
The funds raised by this event will go directly towards scholarships, travel and other financial support of Black Liberation projects and workshops for people in our neighborhoods. Your attendance at this event will help us reach our goals, build relationships, and celebrate our communities.
All are welcome and invited to come learn, talk, share, play, and explore what life is like when people of all kinds have fun together!
Friday, April 25, 2008
Make a TALL HAT with onion bag and balloons
(If you're looking for PLASTISAURUS, skip a few blog entries down.)
To make a TALL HAT with an onion bag and some balloons:
To make a TALL HAT with an onion bag and some balloons:
- Find a 5 lb plastic mesh bag from onions or potatoes. Make sure it's empty first, or it may weigh too much to put on your head. You also need two or three round balloons, depending on size; and something to make an elastic headband from. I used the cut-off sleeve of a short-sleeve shirt.
- "Peel" the sides of the bag down half way, and carefully inflate one of the balloons inside it. The balloon should fill the bottom half of the bag that it's in. If not, you'll need 3 balloons.
- Pull the sides of the bag up, and inflate another balloon in it. Continue until the balloons fill all of the bag except for that top 3-4 inches or so.
- Pull the headband over your head too far, so it's over your eyes and ears.
- Pull the bag over your head, and pull the headband back up so it holds the bag in place atop your head.
- Since you're now about 2 feet taller, duck to go through doorways.
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