Longest Walk 2 Video & Discussion Tonight!
Tuesday, February 26th, 2008
Peaceable Kingdom film showing
Wednesday, February 27th
Cline Library Assembly Hall at Northern Arizona University
7:00
FREE!
Hosted by Animal Rights NOW!
“From the incredibly talented filmmakers of ‘The Witness,’ this deeply moving film explores the plight of farmed animals through the story of Gene and Lorri Bauston of Farm Sanctuary. Heartbreaking actual footage from factory farms, stockyards, and slaughterhouses is masterfully interwoven and juxtaposed with beautiful scenes from the sanctuary, as well as with rescue missions and intensely personal interviews with people who experienced first hand — and ultimately rejected — the painful realities of farm life. This film has the power to effect real change in people. Gather some friends and family to watch it, and by the end, there will not be a dry eye — or untouched heart — in the house.”
I recently bought a great documentary that realistically interrogates our current and frightening environmental challenges. I wanted to share one small section, which, in the past, I’ve heard in various forms. In the film, “the parable of the tribes,” was recited by Ran Prieur. This is an over-simplified explanation of how violence seeps into peaceful landscapes and spreads. This blew my mind the first time I heard it, so I’m curious to hear what you think.
Imagine a bunch of tribes living in an area peacefully. One of the tribes, for some reason—instead of living in balance and in peace—they decide to make a bunch of weapons and conquer the next tribe and turn them all into slaves. The other tribe has three choices
1. If they run away, the paradigm of the violent tribe expands into their territory.
2. If they submit to slavery, the paradigm of the violent tribe expands into their territory.
3. If they decide to make a bunch of weapons to fight back, the paradigm of the violent tribe expands into their territory.
This process continues and spreads around the world until it’s full of violent people who build weapons and fight and enslave others.

I finally got the internet working at my house again. Last week, stupid NPR was my only source of news. Who will it be, Hilary or Obama? Hilary or Obama? Who will stand up to McCain? Every time I turned on the radio is was either a report about how Obama attracting black voters and Hilary attracting women voters….or the latest on the Roger Clemons case, which I am oh so sick of hearing about.
Our country desperately needs to a take third party seriously. The notion that 350 million of us can be divided up into two contrasting ideologies is nothing short of crazy. I have more options when I’m shopping for peanut butter.
The republicans are a pack of criminals and the democrats are a bunch of weenies. It’s been this way for too long. They have both let us down time and time again. If “change” is really what you seek, the person who has me fired up is Cynthia McKinney of the green party. She has everything I would want in a candidate all wrapped into one. She is in touch with normal people’s lives, a strong advocate for women’s rights, not building a wall at the border (take that Ron Paul supporters!), she is the only candidate with strong connections to working class people, she wants out of Iraq, and wants to “leave the oil in the soil.” Even if she can’t win, I’m glad she’s there. And I hope to see her in some of the debates.
exciting for some, but in this humble writer’s opinion, scary as hell.

Humanity is on the brink of advances that will see tiny robots implanted in people’s brains to make them more intelligent, said Ray Kurzweil.
The engineer believes machines and humans will eventually merge through devices implanted in the body to boost intelligence and health.
“It’s really part of our civilisation,” Mr Kurzweil explained.
LOS ANGELES (AP) — The U.S. Department of Agriculture on Sunday ordered the recall of 143 million pounds of frozen beef from a California slaughterhouse, the subject of an animal-abuse investigation, that provided meat to school lunch programs.
Officials said it was the largest beef recall in the United States, surpassing a 1999 ban of 35 million pounds of ready-to-eat meats.

NEW DELHI, India, February 13, 2008 (ENS) India has lost more than half of its tiger population in the past five years, a new government tiger census shows. Crunching the numbers for its 2006-2007 census, the National Tiger Conservation Authority estimates the population at between 1,165 and 1,657 tigers.
At the last census in 2002, observers counted 3,642 tigers across India.
And meanwhile, this is going on as well: Poaching in Sumatra, now more than ever.
Save this picture, so you can explain to your grandchildren what a tiger was. Tell them, of course, to imagine it without a collar.
You were born a Stone Age baby into the chaotic maelstrom of whirling confusion that is characterized by modern, western, first-world existence. You have millions of years of collective memory stashed away in your unconscious. Every now and then, and rather unexpectedly, the knowledge of your ancestors, of my ancestors, appears in your waking life. You know things you don’t remember learning. You are beautiful. You are perfect. Your whole life has led you to this moment. And your next step will determine the rest of your life. What will you do with this moment? What of you will your descendants, my descendants, recall and take with them?
You are more than your job. You are more than your voting record. You are more than the films you enjoy or the music you collect. You are more than firing synapses or coursing serotonin. And you are no more your physical features than you are the muscle and bones and blood flowing beneath them. Every cell in your body has been completely replaced over and over again, yet you remain inexplicably you. You are a miracle.
Your understanding of the world is based on your experiences, that is, your experiences up to this moment. In a way, your experiences affect me as well. They become me as they become you, but that doesn’t mean I feel them in the same way as you do. Don’t let anyone ever tell you, “I know how you feel.” Because they don’t know, they can’t. We may use the same words, but words are dead. They are nothing without the meaning you ascribe to them. And our experiences determine that ascription. This doesn’t mean you can’t thank them for the display of empathy.
We are so much more alike, you and I, than we are different. You are good. You are more complex than the masculine and feminine roles assigned to you. You are more attractive than any airbrushed creation of the corporate owned media. Somewhere, somebody loves you. Somewhere.
Your life is of your creation and no one else—as wide and deep and passionate and meaningful as you can imagine. Deep down, you are still a dreamer, a fighter, a thinker, a lover. And you are much more than all of this as well. Though the systems that construct a false sense of order to our lives would rather you forget.
This moment is holy. Take it in. There will never be another like it. This moment is as unique and exceptional as you are. Under the concrete, beneath the layers of social constructions, of cultural myths about the one “right” way to live, the stories of science that renders progress and dominance unquestionably right, beyond a culture no longer driven by well-meaning hearts like yours, there is a world you used to know, a real world that deeply misses you.
Last week, just before I hopped in the shower, I noticed a giant water beetle perched on my towel, which was neatly folded on the rack. I don’t know much about beetles. Maybe it wasn’t a water beetle, but it was black, six legs, and about 2 inches long. Anyway, I couldn’t bring myself to kill it and, knowing how cold it was outside, I knew throwing it outside would have been more cruel than smashing it.
It didn’t bother me and, at the moment, it’s just three dogs and myself living in this house. So I left it there. Actually I moved it to the towel I wouldn’t be using when I got out of the shower. I named it Ned. I don’t know why. Ned was missing one toe, not an entire leg, but just one toe. In the shower, I imagined how he could have lost it.
I never shut the door, but Ned stayed in the bathroom for about a week. Every day, as I walked in to turn on the shower, there he was. Sometimes he was on the floor, sometimes scaling the wooden wall of my countertop, sometimes on the shower curtain, but mostly, he seemed to really enjoy hanging out on a damp towel. I always said hi.
Because I’m home alone, I don’t bother closing the bathroom door, even in the shower (actually I blast the record player from the living room and keep the door open so I can rock out). Anyway, for some reason one of the dogs always lays on the bathroom rug while I’m in there, eager to lick my wet feet when I get out. I assumed one day she would see Ned and gobble him up, but one morning I got out of the shower and they were both chillin’ on the rug together. As I drew the curtain open, it seemed as if they were in the middle of a conversation that I had interrupted.
Ned is now gone. I don’t know if he decided to go down the drain, or into the air vent, or into the cabinet, or chance it by heading outside—presumably the same way he got in. I’ve looked and I can’t find him. And this might sound silly, but when I walk into the bathroom, I find myself missing him.
Godspeed Ned, where ever you are.
Here’s a bit of good news.

LOS ANGELES, California, February 4, 2008 (ENS) - A federal court today struck down a waiver issued by the White House that would exempt the U.S. Navy from complying with environmental law during sonar training exercises off southern California.
Sonar kills whales. It causes whales to bleed from their ears and eyes. It is illegal to use sonar in whale habitats, but Bush wanted to exempt the Navy (those using sonar the most) from any restrictions, evoking threats to national security and patriotism.
Frankly, I’d rather live in a world with whales, not one that deliberately and systematically destroys them.
My name is Kyle. I teach English, live in Flagstaff, write a column for The Noise, ride 'em bikes, listen to obnoxious music, and play outside as much as possible. Drop me a line: kyle[at]undertheconcrete[dot]org