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Shock therapy…

October 27, 2010


so you’re a rocket scientist…

That don’t impress me much…

— Shania Twain

One of the questions that really seems to be,

on tip of people’s tongues these days,


Are you still working on your Ph.D???

Inquiring minds want to know,


I’m still engaged with my studies…

By now,

with all of their GD education,

everyone really should know better,

for the sake of Pete…

When I hear those kinds of things,

I explain that I’m going the honorary route,

as it stream lines everything,

by cutting down on expenses,

all that unnecessary paperwork,

and a need for approval…



in my book,

unless you’re on a circular stage,

wearing a pair of Levi’s,

and some boots,

in a stadium,

jam-packed full,

of screaming fans,


your core messages,

about radical practice,

and educational change,

with an international platform,

are simply not going to be getting across,

in this day,

and age…


I’m just a dirt road scholar,

with an axe to grind…

Monday morning,

6 am.,

I woke up from a terrifying,

yet exhilarating dream…

I was gathered with a group of people,

at the base of a mountaintop,

covered by a stand,

of giant evergreens…

We were watching trees,

being felled,

faster than the speed of sound,

for an invisible demon…

The resulting clear-cut,

exposed the tangled web,

underlying the system,

of stumpage fees,

and standardized assessment…

I stepped forward to discretely question,

one of the foresters…

I asked a woman,

wearing all of the right safety gear,

Why is this happening,

and can it be stopped???

And she told me,

with an intense fear of insecurity,

that I know from my own experience,

I wish it could,

but I don’t know how,

because the union is telling us what to do…

And a body,

holding hands,

with government,

is getting fat,

off the fruits,

of our labour…

An alarm sounded,

and an unidentified voice,

came on,

over the loudspeaker,

This is a life or death situation!!!

YOU must all get out of the way,

and move,


I didn’t know what to do,

to avoid the incredibly dangerous landslide,

fueled by a broken log-jam,

heading towards all of us…

But I knew that if I made the first move,

the others would follow…

So I closed my eyes,

and jumped,

off a cliff…

And when I landed,

the ground was so much softer,

than what I’d expected,

and there was a path,

off in the distance,

leading somewhere better,

and more secure,

than where we’d been stuck,

in all that thick mud…

Somewhere better,

and more secure than we could ever,

have imagined…

I have no idea what it all means,

but I do know that leaving home,

without my boomerang belt-buckle,

refusing to listen to what I’m being told,

and going to a psychotherapist to make sense,

of it all,

just ain’t an option,

because this is MY dream,

it’s collective,

and it speaks for itself…

The other day,

when I was driving Starshine to her soccer practice,

I told her I was going to send her coach an e-mail,

that if he doesn’t get her to the level where she can smoke the ball,

like his daughter can,

from one goal,

right into another,

by Christmas,

I was going to be taking our business elsewhere…

Starshine cried,


You can’t do that!!!

It isn’t up to you,

this is MY team…

Then when she suddenly realized I was just,

pulling her leg,

she giggled,

asking me,


Are you a physician,

or something???

I didn’t know what to say…

So I just looked at her,

with a megawatt smile,

and hand-cranked,

my portable generator,


another notch

Blue skies from pain...

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