Neither rain, nor sleet, nor snow. We gathered in downtown Eugene to protest the expanding war.

-- Mark P

-----------Here Bullet If a body is what you want then here is bone and gristle and flesh. Here is the clavicle-snapped wish, the aorta's open valves, the leap thought makes at the synaptic gap. Here is the andrenaline rush you crave, that inexorable flight, that insane puncture into heat and blood. And I dare you to finnish what you started. Because here Bullet here is where I complete the word you bring, hissing through the air, here is where I moan-the barrel's cold esophagus, triggering my tounge's explosives for the rifling I have inside of me, each twist of the round spun deeper, because here Bullet, here is where the world ends every time------------

-- a poem from a Sgt.Brian Turner, 3 rd stryker combat team

submitted by J. Marko


Close the schools. Break out the sleds. Find the mittens and boots. Enjoy it while you can and what you can't you can. Put it in the freezer, a snowball or two, save them for a rainy day, won't be long now as the icicle said looking at the thermomenter.


Thank Grog that so called chumpion football game is over, there's so many bowl games it is disguting, except for Boise State who showed them how it's done and afterward all those old traditionalist doofs carping about how that was not real football that was sandlot, reminds me of the folk music snobs who bitched about Dylan going electric.

And for the first time we read in the papers comments from some college players that they ought to get a slice of the pie. Millions being made on those games, on the backs of the players. The players are the modern plantation slaves but no one's gonna tip that applecart, shhhh, the ears have walls.

-- kapnken

NOVEMBER 30, 2006

R.I.P. Doug Simon

Got word from Ed McClanahan in Lexington, Kentucky, that our good friend, Doug Simon, was found dead in his home. Doug drew the covers of the Spit In The Ocean books Kesey and I put out in the mid Seventies. Doug was the one who came up with the joker motif. The joker's name is Otis, SITO spelled backwards.

For a great recap of Doug and the artwork he's done, click on






The winds have howled, the rain has poured, the trees have beent, the branches have torn, but today the sun is out and the time has come. The big fir tree that leans over our bedroom, aimed directly at the bed, is coming down. Not dropped by an act of nature but by the bite of the chain saw. A tricky maneuver. Has to fall in the exact right spot so it doesn't crush the side of the house, or the shed out back. Soon, Dave Barton, the faller, will be here. I will assist and film. Stand by.




Down that tree. Get down on downing that tree. Or as Skypilot O'Reilley said:

prior to
the fir tree
to the lee
o'er the retiring retiree
and his significant she

But now that tree is history. Dave, the tree cutter, hooked a line to the tree, around another tree, across the field, anchored it to a third tree, ran the line through a block and to the hitch on his truck to anchor everything, to make sure the tree went where he wanted it to, and then he cut that tree down, he cut it perfectly, it didn't hit the corner of the house, it didn't hit the shed, it went in a straight groove and now it waits to be cut up, not for firewood, but for planks for the bridge. Lumber.

Dave Barton, cutter extraordinaire.