I just got a message from someone I hadn’t heard from in many years. Someone

I only know by email — we’ve never met. This message stirred up some old memories.

KG (let’s call him) first contacted me ages ago.

He had been ego-surfing (who hasn’t) and found a page of mine where I dared to criticize a book he had co-authored on a subject we both

love: Chaco Canyon. In my one or two paragraph

”review,” I spoke my mind, as I do. He was furious at the effrontery. He took it upon himself not just to refute my criticism but

to attack me as talentless and self-promoting. He was pretty mean.

I’ve had a few such memorable exchanges; some with strangers, some

with people I know (including one of my oldest and dearest friends). Three of those with friends shook me deeply and made me question my

perceptions and ability to communicate (that’s some mighty deep shaking). Those with strangers were easier; I was less hurt and more

curious and tried to work through the flames. Most of these disputes were many years ago. Perhaps there was something in the air or in me

that isn’t there anymore.

So, I wrote back to KG and we traded a few messages. Eventually we worked around to tolerating each other a

bit. I was still curious about what an uninvolved party would think of this; I posted
a portion of our exchange; it has been languishing in a corner

of the Web these many years.

Now KG has invited me to a show. I won’t make too much fun of the grammatical error at the start of the

invitation (I’ve made the same error many times). I was curious enough to visit his website, which is attractive and professional. I

checked the link to the web developer. It led straight to a porn site. I don’t think I’ll tell KG, and that makes me feel a little

shabby and a little exhilarated.

Of course, there is a message or a lesson in many things. Often the most obvious message is not

really the lesson. There is, for me, the recurring lesson of forgiving — I think this post may prove I still have that lesson to learn.

There is the balance between remembering and forgetting. There is the web we weave, connecting even strangers over time. mjh

What does the confiction of Martha Stewart have to do with the rise of American

Totalitarianism? As many cheer and jeer, why should we worry about the fate of the ”nation’s homemaker”?

In federal court, if

you speak in your own defense and are subsequently convicted, you are guilty of lying, of perjury. Imagine yourself wrongly accused,

confronted by ambiguous evidence. Wouldn’t you want to speak for yourself? By twisted judicial logic, an innocent person who maintains

his or her innocense MUST have been lying if convicted, because the system is held as infallable. How many of us find it suspicious when

people don’t speak in their own defence. We believe you cannot be compelled to testify against yourself. As it happens, you can

be compelled not to testify for yourself — by the threat of perjury.

Still, this is not what happened to Martha.

Long before any

of us had heard anything about the case, Martha Stewart was suspected by the government of securities fraud. During the investigation,

she was interviewed by the FBI. More than likely, she lied to those agents of the Homeland. That’s bad, right? Maybe, but is it actually

a crime?

Note that the government’s case on the real crime was dismissed. However, on the charges of the heinous crime of lying to a

federal agent, Martha was convicted. Remember, she wasn’t under oath. She had not been charged with a crime. There is no transcript or

other verbatim record of the interview. She did not commit perjury.

Now that she has been convicted, Martha needs to be careful about

maintaining her innocence. She can’t be charged with perjury, but her lack of remorse (for a crime she doesn’t believe she committed)

can be held against her in sentencing.

What are you going to do when a federal agent appears on your doorstep and asks you if you’ve

ever smoked pot, or exceeded the speed limit. Or what you think of the perpetual War on Terrorism? Think twice about lying to the agents

of the Homeland.

There are

three things that bother me about the outrage that followed this latest Super Bowl. First of all, how did these gangstas and pimps make

it into Halftime? These men believe that ALL women are whores. If Janet’s breast had remained covered, would anyone complain about huge

sums of money being made exploiting, excoriating, women. These guys fill their videos with largely-naked women in porn poses. The pimps

like semi-classy callgirls in Victoria’s Secrets, while Kid Rock prefers strippers and biker chicks (and confederate battle flags —

don’t the brothers know about the Kid?).

Secondly, where was the collective outrage after the NFL and Pepsi raped the

National Mall in DC, with a stripped Britney Spears begging for it? That was just an undress rehersal, and good, clean patriotism,

to boot.

Worst of all, why do I keep hearing Janet’s name and not Justin’s? Did he not expose her? Isn’t he at least

half the problem? Why aren’t all these outraged bluenoses going after the boy, with his weasely excuses? I don’t see either of them as

a role model, but I do imagine a lot of boys did a lot of grabbing after the game. Do you realize that many young girls report being

groped and harrassed? Now we’ve elevated it to primetime entertainment.

Halftime wasn’t the problem. The fantasy of noble conflict

people used to project on athletes and athletics has become a delusion. They’re all whores owned by Corporate Pimps selling you drugs.

It’s time to disband all professional sports (and de-professionalize all other sports). Find something better to do with your

time and money. mjh

”In this dirty-minded world, she thought, you are either somebody’s wife or somebody’s whore

— or fast on your way to becoming one or the other. If you don’t fit either category, then everyone tries to make you think there

is something wrong with you. But, she thought, there is nothing wrong with me.” — Jenny, Garp’s mom in The World According to

Garp, by John Irving

Alpert’s Truth:

Titillation

Pika’s

take

I’m so tired of the Media determining what is

acceptable or not. Reporters have become critics. Too lazy to do their real job of digging for facts the public needs to be informed

(and cannot get at ourselves), Media people instead pontificate, imply, enjoin, sneer; they digest the few facts any of us have access to

and spit out their own interpretation as definitive and final.

Two weeks ago, the Media declared Howard Dean the certain nominee of

the Democratic party. Now, after a single incident (in which I see nothing improper or even worthy of comment) these same Noble Lords

declare him dead and done for.

I don’t know if that’s true or not — I don’t believe anyone will know before we all know. But I do

know the Media is not doing the job of the Press any longer; they’re all critics and spinners reading cue cards written by

people we probably should not trust.

The Press has let us down, quite possibly for the last time. Our democracy is in

peril because of that. All that is left is to see for yourself, read for yourself, think for yourself. mjh

Today, NM

turns 92. It became the 47th state 1/6/1912.

The Meaning of 47

I’ve got to

cut back on exclamation points in these titles!

Everybody likes New Year’s Eve — don’t they? It’s the biggest party of the year, when

auld langes syne. Though I appreciate the mix of celebration and introspection, my heart is moving towards the Winter Solstice. Isn’t

that really the beginning of the new year? For most of my life, the gifting frenzy of Christmas and the rather arbitrary calendar change

(New Year’s used to be in March, I think) have distracted me from the real day, and night, of great moment, a day whose significance

does not depend on human beings for declaration, celebration or even notice. A great milestone on the circular track of the real year.

The moment the pendulum swings back from its extreme; the promise of spring to come.

But humans are self-centered and determined to

detach ourselves from nature. We follow our own calendar and no longer need to follow the larger, older rhythms. When you measure time in

nanoseconds, you digitize life into equal, undifferentiated units. Happy Next Second? No time for that, it’s all the same.

Still, we

can’t help ourselves, born of this world and steeped in its movements. We know this is a time to be thoughtful, grateful and giving. We

know this is a turning point that keeps returning with hope of bright, warm days ahead. We gather, we chatter, we lighten up. A few days

early, a few days late — it’s all the same.

Happy New Calendar! mjh

And another thing:
A few years ago, I was surprised to learn

that the latest sunrise and earliest sunset are NOT on the winter solstice. They’re not even on the same day, but different days a

couple of weeks either side of the solstice. Blows my mind. How can it be? And how can it be that I was well past 40 before I learned

this (and not by observation). That’s the price of arbitrary time.