2006 Pioneer Press Treasure Hunt

Special moment in time JOE!

I got "the one after 909."

[Edited by on Mar 2, 2005 at 11:31am.]

I just turned my DVR off and on and it got rid of the 8:30 mine was stuck on.  Hey OTiS - Have they figured out any fix for the mute problem yet?

Emergency Joe!  Never Forget Joe!

[Edited by on Mar 2, 2005 at 11:47am.]

my fix for any technical problems: an empty piece of land and a baseball bat

enjoy.

...or my alley, and a bat, and a video camera.

HEY! maybe I should have a CC party/fire at my house!!!
I live in Richfield- who would cross the river?

I am already across the river ;)

and Sue got Jason to cross over ;p

 

No CM... Not that I know of.

Thanks OTiS

I didn't know you were one of THOSE KT! 

(I'm one of those people too)

[Edited by on Mar 2, 2005 at 02:32pm.]

I will send another email and see if anyone knows anything.

I tell ya, I leave for a week and a half and I end up with 2 hours of sloggin... ah well, least I got that done now, off to my nightly duties and then I'll post the rest of my cache finds, then maybe get a few pictures from the trip up on the pictures thread.

For those of you who think you are having a bad day...think again and count your blessings.

The following was written by my friend Janet Eldred, who just returned from a year of service in Iraq:

Imagine this
That car bomb that just exploded in Hilla? The ruins of Babylon are
located within about a mile from there.

I live in a city called St. Paul, which is spread along the
Mississippi River. On the other side of the river is Minneapolis.
Together the two cities and close suburbs contain about two million
people.

I live in East St. Paul. There are bad areas here, but there are lots
of places where people are fixing up their houses, planning their
gardens. A lady in my neighborhood likes to set out cat food for the
stray cats. I've started to do the same thing.

I have a big huge porch with a sleigh bed futon on it, and blond
wicker furniture. It's huge---three windows deep, and seven windows
across the front, plus a door. I have a little teeny front yard with
an oak tree on the boulevard that spreads acorns and leaves over the
sidewalk. In the back yard, surrounded by a dormant little shade
garden, is a perfectly symmetrical maple with bird feeders hanging off
it.

You can look down the street and see a variety of house types. There's
huge old Victorians with crumbling porches, and five-year-old ramblers
with siding and shallow roofs. There's some bungalows like mine, with
porches and the original wooden window frames. Trees arch over the
road, some so thickly set in the boulevards and front yards that in
summer the sky cannot be seen from the street.

You can leave your house in St. Paul, and go downtown. To do so you
have to get on a bus that goes down the hill, and passes by a
delapidated street of old houses, some being repaired and painted in
jewel tones, others waiting their turn---till you get to the bridge
that leads to the downtown. For a moment, you've got a university on
one side of you, and you have St. Paul in the mist before you.

On the roads, you pass an accident and notice that there are police
with lights flashing next to the wreck, with the cop on the radio
calling for medical assistance. You can hear sirens, and you know that
help is on the way. Cars pull aside to make room for the fire engine.

You pass shops and shoppers, bookstores and clothing stores. You can
go to several malls or you can shop at the little shops that still
perch on street corners.

Once in downtown, you transfer to whichever bus you need, and go
wherever you need to go. You do your errands, come home, and unlock
your house.

Here's what it would be like if St. Paul were suddenly magically
transferred to Iraq. It's a big city, and let's say it's up north,
near Baghdad. Here's what I want you to imagine. SAy you want to go
out for the day.

Your house would have a loud generator in the back yard that would
have to be watched so it doesn't get stolen. You keep a store of
diesel jugs locked up in your house to run it, and that means that
your house smells of fuel and smoke. The generator roars all the time,
as do those of the neighbors lucky enough to have them. Without them,
you have power only part of the day.

You also have AK-47s in your house, maybe under the beds, maybe in every room.

First, someone has to stay with the house, with the women. Women must
wear black abbayas when they go out, because the insurgents and their
sympathizers are trying to yank women's rights back to the Stone Age.
An abbaya marks a person as a woman, which leaves you vulnerable to
being kidnapped or raped. How she gets treated by her family is an
interesting question, because Iraqis tend to be moderate. But two
years of increasing violence has an effect on people. Some women who
get kidnapped or raped might have brothers like mine, brothers who
know everything about women even while they know no women. If so,
those women are in danger.

If you're a woman, you don't leave the house alone.

There's a corner store near my house. In Iraq, it would be shuttered
early and often, and there would be either an AK-47 under the counter,
or a private security guard outside.

In Iraq, the buses are privately run. You stand on the street corner,
and wait. When they come, you pay a few dinars, and get on board. The
houses that go by before your window all have stone or brick walls
around them. Some of them have bullet holes in their windows. Several
have boarded-up windows, where the owner got tired of replacing the
glass. As you board the bus, you hear a "THUMP!" from somewhere, and
the stutter of gunfire. The sound of helicopters is another constant.

There are little shops lining the streets, and soldiers in jeeps
everywhere. The police are dressed as if for a perpetual riot, in flak
vests and carrying Ak-47s or RPGs. They look at rooftops and corners,
looking for snipers.

On the way to downtown, you pass an 'accident.' Next to the police
station are concrete blocks to keep vehicles at a distance, but
someone avoided those by taking the plates out of a flak vest and
filling the compartment with C4. You see blood and chunks of flesh
scattered across the street. There are pools of blood spread out from
the point of explosion. In suicide bombings the head is often left
intact, and someone has propped the bomber's head on the hood of a
police car. The police here are scanning the rooftops urgently. A
crowd clumps on the other side of the street, some people wailing and
others angrily gesturing at the police. More jeeps with masked
soldiers arrive. Helicopters zoom overhead, and as you pull past the
scene, you see more of them over the city. There is the sound of more
gunfire, which makes you shut your window.

You pause at the top of the hill to look at the city. Smoke rises from
a bomb somewhere, and more helicopters circle over its probable
location. Military convoys force the bus to one side of the road so it
can pass. Convoys keep all other vehicles at bay with their turret
guns because of the risk of VBIEDs. Once the convoy is a hundred yards
ahead, the bus driver pulls out yet again. You hear more gunfire from
the east.

In downtown, many shops are boarded up, but little kiosks line the
sidewalks. Posters are everywhere, as are bullet pock marks in the
stone. Everyone has a cellphone, especially the IED makers---they're
cheap now, and they make good detonators.

Some buildings have been demolished to provide a secure perimeter for
the government buildings. There are Hesco barriers and T-walls
surrounding them, plus watch towers and patrols. Armored vehicles sit
at all the gates.

There are only a few real stores open, and you do your shopping very
fast. They sell dusty home cleaning products, dusty clothes, some
fresh fruit grown in their gardens, and electronics that are probably
stolen or 'fell off an American truck.' You shop, pay fast, and leave.
The last man who ran the store was killed by the insurgents. He was
found dead in his own store by a customer, and the police came and
took him away. No one would talk about it. You hear more gunfire in
the distance.

Someone was arrested for the murder of the shopkeeper. Then the police
started turning up dead in various parts of the city. The man was
subsequently released.

As you wait for another bus, you see lots of taxis going by, and a
flood of bicycles. Though gas is expensive, turning one's car into a
cab is often the only job there is. You wave down a cab and discover
that the man is a neighbor.

You hear more gunfire.

You talk about the wewather, the insurgents, the heat. He looks at you
in the mirror. "You shouldn't talk about them."

"Who? Them?"

"Yes. You don't know who they could be, for example."

"Oh."

The rest of the cab ride is silent. You pay him, and stagger through
your gate with your few groceries. Your nephew sits in your front
garden with his tea, taking his turn guarding the house. You hear
gunfire in the distance.

The next day the cab driver is found dead in a pool of blood in his
front yard, three blocks from your house. Neighbors heard gunfire. The
police were engaged in a firefight at the police station down the
street--the one hit by the suicide bomber----and could not
investigate. The family poured jugs of water over the blood, then took
the body to the hospital themselves in the back of a truck, wrapped in
a sheet. There was too much gunfire for the ambulance to get through.

The day after that, you find a threatening note on your door. You have
been working for the wrong people, it says.

You hold it in your hands as you stand on your front porch, looking up
and down the street where you live. Who is watching you from behind
closed curtains right now as you hold their note in your hand. What do
you do?

You listen for gunfire.

IY-Yi_YI-Yi_ Shittt!
I've NEVER had such a day! Even when my father died.
God be thanked for my life.

But seriously- do any of you want to get together at my house, fire, GREAT tunes, and stuff? I'm thinking Saturday.
I have a firepit, and a sweet-ass stereo, and a low maintenence home.
Lemme know- I'm only offering.
Cuz I NEED to burn, and play tunes, and stuff,
...But all that would be much sweeter with any of you.

WOW!  That was something Scibe.  Thanks for posting it.

She's an aspiring writer and I had to get her permision before I posted it. I think she has a natural talent for sharing experiences through words.

 

OMG!!  Is all I can say.  Thanks for posting Scribe. WOW!

My heart's racing.

wow, that was very well written.

THANKS KITCH!! WOOHOO! I love free music!

Well...i'll keep posting the just to keep you around BIG G!!!

hahaha

Well now. THAT was humbling.

I cannot encapsulate what scribe just gave us, and simply move on.
It's amazing the temerity a person has to keep going to achieve survival on this planet. hmmm. ...kinda diminishes whatever we consider road blocks, huh?
God gives us strength when we need it the most, and expect it the least.
He can see the determination and purity in our hearts and puts His Hand upon us when it will truly make a difference.
Those who call upon His blessing with self-intent will be denied it.

Ok- My Micro-sermon has been given.
...Sometimes I just get on a roll.

But seriously- do any of you want to get together at my house, fire, GREAT tunes, and stuff? I'm thinking Saturday.
I have a firepit, and a sweet-ass stereo, and a low maintenence home.
Lemme know- I'm only offering.
Cuz I NEED to burn, and play tunes, and stuff,
...But all that would be much sweeter with any of you.

Here I go again, commanding the Forum.

I will do all this anyway, but would like to share it with a few coolerheads.
Music will be there, mystically...
Perhaps a few of the other fire-loving conversationalists could grace my presence.????

....maybe I could make it...later at night....
not sure....i'm thinkin' my entire week after is booked....everynight I'm not planning on being home after 9ish...

I do NOT expect my fire to be out by 9 pm- That may very well be what time I start it!
I'm not asking folks who have things to do, ...or nothing to do, for that matter, I'm just saying that the fire will be burning, the tunes will be playing, and all of you are welcome to show up. If you have kidlets, bring them as well. I have a hungry wolf, and a basement.

No- kidding! Not much here for little ones, but young teens will find a plethora of Boy's shitttt to disturb.

I do have a fenced yard, and mostly child-safe home for anyone....

God- I sound so pathetic,.

Oh- I feed the wolf, so she will not eat your children.

And! If you fear - I can put her in my room, so as she does not interfere with anything at all.
She is OK with this, I asked her.

I must sleep- a Bloomington elementary wants me to photograph tomorrow.

nite...

KT - If we stay south, and that depends on the forecast as we're not wanting to get snowed in up there, we just might come share your fire. I could use one too...and our fire pit up north is buried in about 2 feet of snow.

It's not a humongous firepit, but it's mine, legal, and really close to a flushing toilet...
And a house with heat.

sounds good to me! I'll let you know when we figure out if we'll be around south here or not this weekend.

Thanks a lot for the offer KT - I'd love to enjoy a nice fire with you but I'm headed up north to help celebrate a 40th B-day for my bro-in-law on Saturday.  A fire sounds so nice right about now.  I've been wanting to get my pit up and running again too.

[Edited by on Mar 2, 2005 at 09:05pm.]

Thanks for posting that Scribe.

Geeze CM, Your bro-in-law will have another 40th, no?

I'm not planning on anything, only opening up my home and hearth to anyone who wishes to attend.
I'll be here, and a fire will be going no matter what. Heck- it's a Saturday, and saturn is a cool planet, so fire-tunes,and toilet the theme will be.

Thanks for catching that KT - I edited that once I re-read it.

I hope you'll have more fires - I just can't make it this time around is all.  AW had a real nice fire for his or someone elses RHB at my old house that was awesome.  I actually like watching a fire more than TV (not Terry V as I like to watch her even more)  And some of you know the addict that I am.  You just can't beat it.

You're a Terry V addict?
 Hmmm...

One more of Janet Eldred's writings. It's long, but may put some things into perspective...

The P Word
The irony of celebrating Independence Day while wearing the exact same
outfit as 140,000 other people has not escaped me, let me tell you.
But at the same time, I can't say that it has ever meant so much.
That's practically a given.I mean, what am I doing? Where am I? I
volunteered for this, and the Army in its wisdom, took instead people
who didn't want to go. Then I forgot about it for a while, and wound
up here. Duh.

Being an American is not something I've ever been conscious of except
when I've been overseas. According to recent emails I've gotten, I
should be grateful I'm not in other locations, because I guess women
aren't among those endowed by their Creator with certain inalienable
rights. I guess what we get are privileges doled out by whatever guy
is around that day---and we should be grateful, dammit, grateful!

Being an American is like being a woman; until I'm confronted by an
asshole, I'm never aware of it, and then I meet some jerk off for whom
either my nationality or my gender is all they can see. If I were to
compose a list describing myself 'bitchy' and 'cranky' (Snow White's
other dwarves!) would be at the top of the list. 'Woman' and American
would be somewhere down at the bottom. (There's got to be a joke in
there somewhere, but don't look at me----I haven't had my caffeine
yet.)

Independence is one of those concepts you think you understand---till
you have to put it into action. Then it can feel an awful lot like
exile. It tends to exhibit itself in small everyday things, not big
gestures. (Except what's not a big gesture but liberating a country?)
It can be breaking up with a boyfriend, leaving your folks' house, or
just standing up and saying, "That isn't right." Here, it's the
refusal of American and Iraqi both to surrender to the urge to join a
mob, to let other people do the thinking.

It's Iraqis who are apprehending terrorists---or just facing them

down-----unarmed. It's Israel Putnam, saying something he may or may
not have said: "Stand your ground. Don't fire unless fired upon. But
if they mean to have a war....Let it begin here." It's a lot of other
things, too, but at bottom, it all boils down to thinking for one's
self...and then acting on it. It's not about being alone, although
sometimes it can get you isolated. Learning that can be very hard.

There's something weird I've encountered since I got here, and it's
not something the general public--meaning Americans---is aware of.
When Iraqis are innocent of whatever it is they've been accused of,
they tend to just give up. They're so resigned to their fate after
thirty or forty years of terror that they just don't fight it. So
that's why I view the Iraqis who bitch and moan about 'where's my
democracy now?' as being optimistic signs. That's the idea, yes it is.
Bitch and moan. Complain, dammit. You deserve independence and
self-determination. And you know it! But you have to work for it, too.

Independence is just such a hard concept to grasp, especially here,
when you see it small gestures rather than big ones, where it's acted
upon rather than talked about, where obeying orders is part of life.
In a way, that defines for me the best way of exhibiting all these big
Hallmark card concepts--Independence, patriotism, religion, and other
things I can't think of right now. I think of patriotism and religion
pretty much the same way I think about masturbation---there's nothing
wrong with it, but must you talk about it at parties? The whole
concept of religion seems weird----I'm going to worship a total
stranger, and a guy who has infinite power yet doesn't lay the smack
down on people abusing his name? And who use his name to justify
female castration and suppression? Uh, sure, that's like respecting a
money-grubbing CEO for firing off workers in the name of profits. No
CEO Gods for me, thanks.

There's lots of people I'd much rather worship, although I can't think

of any of them right now. Decency has the tendency to do that, to
quietly right wrongs, or even prevent them, and then fade into the
background. I keep thinking of 'Faith, Hope, and Charity' which so
many modernizers fuck up by putting into bland contemporary English as
'Faith, Hope, and Love." Dude, I love pizza, pick another verb, okay?

Charity vaunted not itself, is not puffed up,
Doth not behave itself unseemly,
Seeketh not her own, is not easily provoked, thinketh no evil;
Rejoiceth not in inequity, but rejoiceth in the truth,
Beareth all things, believeth all things, hopeth all things, endureth
all things,
believeth all things
Charity never faileth.

Or how about we just stick to the original? The very word charity
brings to mind the great philosophical concept of Maimonedes, of
'eight kinds of charity' list, which of course has especial relevance
to me, and to anybody who's ever been poor.

Big grand gestures are really popular ways of exhibiting the big
concepts, but when I think of patriotism, I think of a strange variety
of people---among them my Dad, infuriating old fuck that he was, who'd
be strangely amused and flattered that I called him that, the Turkish
guys who worked twenty hours a day in my old hood, despite armed
robberies and abuse, the wonderfully bitchy group of women in my old
hood who consisted of Hindu, Muslim, and Protestant, and who were
united by their sarcasm. I think of the Somali girls in my
neighborhood who wore huge St. Paddy's day hats on St. Paddy's day
because they were so eager to embrace their new country. I think of
the Iranian cab driver I knew, whose son and daughter both joined the
military, and was grateful for the college fund, and I think, too, of
a dear friend who escaped both the Shah and Saddam himself, and did
the same thing.

Patriotism gets a really bad rap these days, and I'm right there with
everybody else rapping it. I think American patriotism should be about

opening our arms to people, not crossing them against them. The people
dying---literally---to get into this country love it already for the
freedom it offers----how can we not welcome them? I think we should
welcome them with parades. We need reminders that the rest of the
world just doesn't have what we have. And I know that sounds arrogant,
but I'm poor white trash who owns my own nice little house, and do a
job that's unimagineable in some sections of the world---and I can't
imagine not doing either.

What jobs are the newest arrivals taking away from us? That seems to
be the hot-button, but it's really a fairly clever disguise for a
whole other mindset. Yeah, I'm sure Kenneth Skilling really wants to
drive that taxi for ignorant assholes who see a name like 'Mohamed' on
the license and thinks, "Aha, potential terrorist!" instead of,
"Father of four daughters who fled here from Iraq because he wanted
them to have more freedom." (A guy who actually gave me a ride from
the airport last time I flew voluntarily.) It's ironic, too----it's
the recent arrivals who best embody the concept of loving their
country, because to be sappy about it, this country can in fact love
you back sometimes, even if it's in that weird, disconnected
conceptual kind of way. Patriotism is like a yeti, basically----if you
see the real deal at all, it's probably going to be out of the corner
of your eye as it runs away from you because it's so shy.

It's our luxury in the US that makes it difficult to see, sometimes,
just what we're capable of, but I'm not embarrassed to say that I love
Americans----most of the time. Rush Limbaugh, however? Uh, no, you're
an embarrassment. September 11th was a reminder of just what this
country was capable of, and that includes the bad things, too,
unfortunately----the skuzzballs going after people in turbans and
veils, the resurgence of 'my country, go the fuck home' bullying
disguised as patriotism. Just because people give something a label

doesn't mean it's accurate. Rush Limbaugh says a lot of shit---so does
Michael Moore. Thanks, I'll stick with Al Franken.

I keep thinking of the little things. I bitch about a lot of them, of
course I think about them. As a czar once said, "I'd rather change
society from the top than have it change me from the bottom." Which is
particularly appropriate the more I get emails from those
'get-back-in-the-missionary
<WBR>-position-you-godless-feminist
<WBR>-man-hater'
types. Not that there's anything wrong with the missionary position.
But after September 11th, the whole country suddenly realized what it
felt like to have that bottom-of-the-identity-list item suddenly
become one's whole persona. For a whole class of people out there,
that's all we are---Americans. For a whole bunch of people, all a
woman is is..."not a man." They think they're putting people in a box
they won't be able to crawl out of. The loud patriot and the racist
who talks about American scum....they're the same person. They have
the same methods, the same mindset, the same goals.

I could give a shit, frankly. False patriotism is defined by people
for whom that one element is everything. Being an American means
you've got a lot more adjectives to choose from---or you should. If
that's all you can define people as, that ought to be a pretty big
wake up call.

For yourself.

Muslim? What if the guy in question defines himself as being the
neighborhood's best dessert-maker? (A guy from my old hood once
again.) Woman? I prefer 'bad-tempered, tries-to-be-articulate swishy
dress lover who lusts after every book ever written and every digital
thing every invented', thank you very much/ Black? How about English
major? How about a person who has a secret, embarrassing crush on a
pro-wrestler? (I won't name names here.) White? How about
secretly-took-ballet-class to improve his football game, and stopped
playing football but still takes ballet class? (All people I've

known.) (And there's going to be another rant about interior versus
exterior identities, I'm just reminding myself.) It's comforting to
define people simply. But it also does something to one's self,
too----it simplifies and reduces, and ultimately you wind up doing to
yourself what you accuse other people of doing. Ever notice how these
loud patriots are always accusing the recent refugees of ruining the
country?

Flags popped up everywhere in my neighborhood after September 11,
except around the self-consciously intellectual. I'm sorry, but these
guys just irritate me. "Oh, I don't believe in that stuff."

"What do you believe in?"

"Erm...."

Whatever you believe in, though, here's a clue----if its whole
existence depends on being opposite of something to exist, you don't
have a position, you have a reaction. That's the very definition of
dependence.

It's like these people who constantly bitch about how feminism is
destroying American men----because you know, American men are just the
most virile creatures out there. Well, how do you define masculinity?
Oh, strong, silent, honest, etc., etc,. -----the exact opposite of
femininity. 'Pussy' sure doesn't stand for anything positive in
today's culture, does it? (Ignorant twenty somethings notwithstanding.
I once had an argument with a bunch of twits who had no exposure to
history and blamed the messenger. Dipshits.) That kind of thing is
nothing but an attempt to force women back into the reactive position
where men now find themselves, instead of forging an identity based
on, well, identity----not reaction, not dichotomies, not yin and yang.
It's dependence again. And it's easy to miss. The anti-whatever
people, no matter who they are, need somebody to define themselves
against, and given society's hatred of women, in particular, imagine
how frustrating that must be to have to define one's self against
something so hated and despised. And infuriating. Any fanaticism is

like that. Instead of moving ahead and defining one's self after
examination and reflection, the false patriot, the false anything---
defines one's self in terms that require opposition. False patriot,
false feminist, false anything----they can't stand on their own two
feet. They feel virtuous in contrast to some straw man vice, but they
need opposition to define their existence. Patriotism, religious
faith, independence, whatever you have------as virtues, these things
have got to stand on their own.

The virtues I wanted to write about today could be any of them,
really, with that definition, and all of them have as that essential
element the ability to exist independently, to be as unique as the
individual exhibiting them. None of them start big, they all start
small, and grow.

It just seems that we keep trying to make virtue or character into
something much bigger and cleaner than it is. And when you talk about
virtue or patriotism or independance, talking about it like there's
only one opposing position reduces the complexity of the situation
until you must think in terms of black/white, good/bad, and so on.

I'm sick of that now. We expected a desert, and found an oasis,
expected hostility and found acceptance, and expected occupation and
found war. We expected things based on what we knew, and found that it
was all false. People surprised us, touched us, and we're left with
the leaders in the way.

I've been way too serious for too long today, and Captain Grumpy has
given us all the day off, and is now stretching cellophane tape across
the door at lambada height, so I have to go get all unserious. What
better way to celebrate something than toss somebody in the pool,
clean one's room---my bunkie has turned out to have a wicked,
positively-evil sense of humor----and steal food from the chow hall to
grill for our next-door neighbors?

God, I don't know what it is the last couple of days. Can you put
'sap' in the water or something?

Wow

I love her...but have to disagree about Al Franken....EWWWWWWWWW!

However;

I'm good enough, smart enough and doggonnit people like me!

CM - NICE POST ON THE PIX

 

COCO - I LOVE YOUR AVATAR!!

guess it would make for a sweet randyrust superstar avatar. :)

Randy Rust RawKs

Thanks for posting those, Scribe...

UGH this sux... the lady nextdoor was out smokin.. thought she put her cig out.. a planter started on fire on her patio... and the whole damn building got woke up and evacuated. and it's 2am.. I gotta be up for work in like 3 hrs :(

Being an American is like being a woman; until I'm confronted by an
asshole, I'm never aware of it, and then I meet some jerk off for whom
either my nationality or my gender is all they can see.

I think of the Somali girls in my
neighborhood who wore huge St. Paddy's day hats on St. Paddy's day
because they were so eager to embrace their new country.

Thanks, I'll stick with Al Franken.

and ultimately you wind up doing to
yourself what you accuse other people of doing

We expected things based on what we knew, and found that it
was all false. People surprised us, touched us, and we're left with
the leaders in the way.

 

She's unbelievable Scribe - Please pass along my sincere gratitude on letting you post those. 

Some heavy reading in here. Thanks scribe.

and the whole damn building got woke up and evacuated. and it's 2am.. I gotta be up for work in like 3 hrs :(

What a drag MM!

She's got a way with words... and feelings. Wow

http://www.coolertimes.com/videos.html

What a loving husband! He shares everthing!

G?