The Beatles, Airport Dreams, the NFL, Medical Marijuana, Vaccinations and Octopi

At the Little Santa Monica-Wilshire Blvd intersection in Beverly Hills, I spotted four men with guitar cases and slyly took their photo and imagined them to be the Beatles, circa 1969, Abbey Road.

I dreamt last night that I was supposed to get on a flight to Morocco but couldn't find my ticket. I wandered down stainless steel hallways and knew that the person to call was my father who came to get me. I keep dreaming about planes and trips that I just miss, airports and hotels and frustrated efforts to get somewhere.

I felt bitter when I read about some spokesperson for the NFL, stating that they would consider "allowing" pro football players to smoke pot if it helped with their concussions and brain injuries. Evidently, football players smoke a lot of pot for pain. I imagine the hurdles to help these men will be minimal -- as compared to the legion of families who are working their asses off to get medical marijuana for their children suffering from devastating uncontrolled epilepsy. Does anyone else see the insanity of a sport/industry that gives people debilitating neurological problems yet commands fanatical attention and earns billions of dollars? I hate the American Football Sports Machine and the reek of money and profit. The smell of bullshit is bitter, bitter, bitter.

I read another anti-anti-vaccination diatribe today on Facebook and jumped in the fray despite the futility of it all. This is what I said in response to a person's comment about the "reckless behavior of those who don't vaccinate:"

Yes, those of us who have a child with a severe refractory seizure disorder because of vaccines live every day recklessly as we change their diapers for twenty years, pick them up from the floor where they lie, seizing, give them medications, scientifically "sound" that cause hideous side effects and mull over questions on whether it would be better for our child to die before us or after -- and then have to read the pablum that the mainstream media presents, pitting crazies against crazies with literally no nuance or attempt to understand the very real fears of many of us. My question to you is whether you believe my daughter's life is a worthy sacrifice for the "greater public good" -- I will pass no judgement if you believe this to be so, but I sure as hell pass judgement on those who never once entertain that THIS is what many of us have to grapple with as we make decisions in our families. And I'd add that the acknowledgement of that would go very far in persuading people to vaccinate -- much further than the incendiary language you use or the facile calling up of superficial goofball celebrities.

Now, don't get me wrong. I am decidedly NOT against vaccinations. I just think people should stop before they call people immoral or reckless and think about how AFRAID many of us are -- AFRAID for good reason. We are afraid and not crazy. How about talking to the legions of parents who allow their young children to play a sport that could very well cause their brains to be jarred against their skulls and, over time, alter the exquisite and beautifully wrought neurons of which they're made.


I'd like to be under the sea
In an octopus' garden in the shade
He'd let us in, knows where we've been
In his octopus' garden in the shade
I'd ask my friends to come and see
An octopus's garden with me
I'd like to be under the sea
In an octopus's garden in the shade
We would be warm below the storm
In our little hideaway beneath the waves
Resting our head on the sea bed
In an octopus's garden near a cave
We would sing and dance around
Because we know we can't be found
I'd like to be under the sea
In an octopus's garden in the shade
We would shout and swim about
The coral that lies beneath the waves
(Lies beneath the ocean waves)
Oh what joy for every girl and boy
Knowing they're happy and they're safe
(happy and they're safe)
We would be so happy you and me
No one there to tell us what to do
I'd like to be under the sea
In an octopus's garden with you
In an octopus's garden with you.
In an octopus's garden with you.

Where else do you read about The Beatles, Beverly Hills, the NFL, vaccinations and marijuana and have it all tied up in a neat little package?

Cat's Cradle

via Chris Pekoc

Yesterday, I had to go pick Oliver up from school early and take him to our homeopath/naturopath. I pulled in front of the school and parked in the 5-minute loading zone, dashed inside, signed him out and then walked outside to wait for him to come down (the school is in a many-storied building in a very urban part of the city). You're not going to believe this, but the exact same woman who had tormented me the other day with her impervious refusal to acknowledge my emergency, was typing away on her hand-held device, giving me a ticket! I said, Wait a minute! This is a 5-minute loading zone, and I've been here for less than 2 minutes! You can't give me a ticket! She said, It's a loading zone and you're not loading, are you? I said, Yes, my son will be down in a moment. She said, Nope, I've already written you a ticket and then she handed it to me with a smile. I couldn't see her eyes because she was wearing those mirrored kind. I swear to the good lord above that she knew exactly who I was, that she remembered my car and just wanted to stick it to me. Once again, I refrained from calling her a   foul name but did ask her for her name. She told me that it was on the ticket.

Her name is Ms. Chavez.

Evidently, Ms. Chavez is now part of what Kurt Vonnegut called my karass, a  group of people who, often unknowingly, are working together to do God's will. The group can be thought of as the fingers that support a cat's cradle.

Either that, or I'm dealing with some interesting karma.

I fully intend to write a nice note to the parking authorities, whomever they are, and complain about Ms. Chavez. I understand that one has to be a hard ass to be a parking meter cop, but Ms. Chavez is a bitch and needs a complaint filed against her.

Now, let's listen to this and all calm down.