Minimalism Chronicles: Seen death's Light? Well, hold on tight!

PRESIDIO, TX--The old Presidio County, TX, Courthouse Annex building when it was located on Harmon Street in Presidio. The editor and publisher of the local newspapaper also was the town's only judge, and county commissioners allowed him to use the Justice of the Peace office for his newspaper office, too. Both jobs almost killed him, he thought at one time. (DMT file photo)

By A. Daniel Bodine

desertmountaintimes.com

'Ya hear more 'n more folks casually talk these days about near-death experiences, the floating beyond the body, etc.--either a personal encounter or a friend's or a love-one's--and it always makes me feel...Well, a little squeamish. 'Ya know? Are we really that prepared to “go home to the Almighty?” Like casually slipping on a new shirt when we prepare to go out somewhere? Without thinkin' about whether or not we've changed our undies, too? Or are we to give in to New Modern and let golden politics take us to a higher level--without pausing to worry about sub-prime obligations?

Hee, hee. Believe me, belief in a mysterious Light of Death and superstitious, mystic or religious symbolism runs deeply in my family; I get tighter constrictions when I hear of such. Baldy (my cousin) and me when young were eye-witnesses to the very reason his family's house back in Cleburne, TX, burned down one night, for instance—his mother and my Mother were out on the back porch together looking at a full moon thru the branches of a treetop, they were. The two admitted it numerous times later, while wailin' and wailin' and wailin'. Tread carefully with full moons!

And many years later, when grown, I even saw that great Light of Death one time myself, or what I was convinced it was then, as it came up on me after suffering what was thought to be a heart attack. Nothing happened from it though, the Light, cause the face of an angry local businesswoman suddenly jumped up there in the picture to snuff it out--screaming at me, “You can't go yet, Dan! You haven't collected that money on that check for me!!” Rose'd been pressuring me for several weeks to collect on a hot check case that was filed in my JP court.

Already'd had that yahoo arrested once, I did. He was a cattle buyer, and one of the deputies picked him up as he crossed over from Mexico at the Port-of-Entry bridge one Sunday it seemed a month or two earlier. Brought him to me. I released him then, after he came up with most of the money he owed. Only lacked covering one check, he did, and he promised me faithfully he'd be back in the office in a couple of weeks to pay for that. Good 'ol boy, he was. But never saw him again! Rose was fit to be tied naturally.

Initially I'd credited her, as bad as I hated the way she pestered me on checks from her restaurant, with actually saving my life then that time with the Light. Came buttin' into the picture at just the right time! Not to mention, of course, the law enforcement officers who'd come into my office just moments after I was hit with the original chest pains. Their arrival and then the quick action to call an ambulance were critical. Call them divinely designated angels.

But upon further study, as for Rose getting into the picture, I've since had second thoughts about it. And here's why. I think it's a value issue we need to look at as a people—Is this what we really want to be? To each other? Valued tormentors? Only too disappear once a performance objective has been met? Which we almost always have to do now if we're struggling with a small business. Here today; gone tomorrow. It's the nature of this new economic beast. Small businesses get the crumbs?

This Light-viewing incident, indeed, was while I was in the ambulance (coming up out of the valley of Presidio, TX/Ojinaga, Chih., MX) in late December '93; staring out the rear window and worrying--yes, fearing death itself. It started out just as a glimmering speck at the long end of a tunnel of darkness, and within seconds came up on me. From the way my body ended up I must've grabbed the ambulance bed I was on, and was holding on for dear life! But Rose's face—bless her heart!--appeared out of nowhere in the nick of time, shaking her finger at me; and with it that light went whiff! and headed off for taller cotton.

Now this was on a Wednesday press day, too, getting hit shortly after noon with what doctors in the hospital in Alpine (90 miles away; the nearest!) believed, indeed, to be a heart attack, there at the old County Annex. So the pressure already was enough. For indeed I still had my little weekly newspaper in there also, The International Presidio Paper. County commissioners had been kind enough to let me use the formerly vacant JP office for it also when they appointed me judge, almost two years earlier. A prior judge had worked from her store. In weekly newspaper parlance, publishing day is known as D-Day! It's when holy hell breaks loose.

And to add to that pressure, this occurred between Christmas and New Year's, when Maria Porras, who was my main assistant on the newspaper side, had dared to take a week off to visit a family member out of town. To say I was simply under job stress could in no way accurately describe the heavy feeling I was under then—JP'ing on one side; attempting to put together and publish a newspaper on the other!

I was sitting at my desk, with the computer in front of me, doing newspaper page layout work on it. The pain of the attack was a shot that sent me bolt upright in my chair. Literally could not move, the pain was so great. And then fortunately Constable Raul Barriga and Police Chief Silverio Escontrias suddenly bopped thru the front door, just routinely checking on business.

“How's it going, Judge?!” Sheesh.

Osvaldo Acosta, a grizzled, veteran Presidio ambulance director, slipped me one of those little nitro pills underneath my tongue when he arrived; paused to read some vital signs to make sure, in fact, my wheels were falling off; and then assisted to load me up; and away we went—up the Chinati mountains! Toward Alpine. And to an encounter with The Light. Never forget it.

After some overnight tests in Alpine to confirm my condition, doctors then sent me via another ambulance to Midland Memorial (2 1/2 hrs. further away—Far West Texas is such a close-knit community of communities!) where I was kept for a week. Stress attack, it was, one heart specialist said. Probably brought on by Maria's absence, I quietly added. Or Rose's persistance.

“You need to turn loose of one of those jobs,” the ol' doc advised me.

So I decided to get out of the newspaper business. After 20 years. Damn paper didn't have any health insurance anyway; I couldn't afford it. The county job did.

But that little building on Harmon Street may have been the only time in Presidio County's colorful history when the community's judge and its newspaper editor and publisher shared the same duties. Guaranteeing a public service process was the game; dragging a far second was the appearance of it. In a far, remote corner of the mountainous Chihuahuan Desert then, legalism with its infinite checklists and concerns was still a weak sister.

But change was in the air, undeniably. A groundswell of Sunbelt transformation sweeping the country was coming. And it came, bringing new faces, new laws and procedures, and new financing instruments—e.g., grants, from everything for a new county annex to new streets for the city. In its aftermath, our economies and processes are more sophisticated now, and we've had to change with them. Or be steamrolled underneath.

We watch each other more closely. Warily. It's the price of Progress--Our nervous systems are being exploited. And the fact you're hearing more and more of these near-death stories in recent years is not coincidental, I truly believe. The Sunbelt's rush-to-riches recklessness changed us spiritually in ways that seem unfathomable now.

Hell's fire's been around forever, of course, but this accelerated lingo about near-death experiences and new, profound descriptions of an AfterLife seen in trips up yonder is the fallout of an inadvertent, scheming yawn—a spurious, new unsatisfied need that goes much deeper. The froth from today's game isn't your grandfather's same gusto, my friends. We're really talkin' peckin' order now; we became so haughty in our Sunbelt greed. That's the anomaly.

That frenzied but subtle, subconscious scheming, about how to plunge deeper into the mix of both social and political wealth circles while still protecting our old life's virtues, has produced within us a commercialized, schizophrenic, bastard child—a marketplace offspring. Who's gonna take care of it? And how? Personally, I blame all this gotta-have-this/gotta-have-that pressure on the social-minimalism dust that radical Republicans stirred up with their rush-to-wealth, consumption-driven lifestyles of the past few decades.

And their “hit lists” to take over politics to facilitate bringing it all about. Corporate-funded campaign chicanery. For, ever since they took over the Sunbelt in1980--and became campaign gatekeepers with this newest but recycled version of how to get into heaven (on the wings of a gilded dove, not a repentant snow white one)--they've had their special place in the clouds reserved above the rest of us. They married lofty thinking to rabid gospel of wealth ministries.. And it's all caused a major fault shift in our way of thinking, our way of looking at each other.

But you gotta smile over it, too. Now, whenever Shall We Gather at the River, indeed, does become a watershed moment, you watch 'em. Hee, hee. Republicans'll will feel hellbent-to-highwater to get upstream some—careful not to mix the waters that wash our feet with theirs. Can you imagine that? But I'm old-fashioned, yes, and whether or not you swim with the dolphins or slog along with the mud turtles isn't going to amount to a hill of beans in the Final Wash, I don't believe.

But these changes in our political and social landscapes are real; something has changed us. The way we see ourselves. And each other. Is it transitory? My guess is yes. In other eras smoke-and-mirror alterations on lasting and meaningful values has always faltered; you wait, it will this time, too. A gold-studded pecking order isn't the Heaven Christ preached!

We have better educated minds to use, for one. Even my young daughter admitted the other day that in recent years, more and more science is taking the mystery out of some of these scary, near-death and superstitious stories. Or at least offering an explanation or two. We're still all just different sides of the same coin.

And beating each other's brows to death on whether or not someone is niggling us over a few hundred dollars, as bad as it seems, isn't going to get us any closer to God. If you want to swim with the barracudas, to give you that emotional high you think you need, then go swim with the barracudas. But be mindful of the risky waters you're getting yourself into, too—and take either the credit or the blame. And don't denigrate me or others for choosing a saner lifestyle. Just coping with the economy can be pressure enough for some of us.

Indeed, look at what's happening now. According to the Near Death Experience Research Foundation, for instance, nearly 800 such near-death experiences (far more enriching than mine) happen every day in the United States. The figure was reported in a 2009 CNN healthwatch story. (see it filed here.) Read what some of those folks say happened to them while “in flight,” if you will. Talk about vibes!

And Dr. Kevin Nelson, a neurologist in Louisville, Kentucky, who studies near-death experiences, said these things are not imagined either. The explanation, he says, lies in the brain itself.

"These are real experiences. And they're experiences that happen at a time of medical crisis and (perceived—my words) danger," Nelson told CNN

.

It seems us humans have a lot of reflexes that help keep us alive, part of the "fight or flight" response that arises when we're confronted with danger. Nelson thinks that near-death experiences are part of the dream mechanism; and that the person having the experience actually is in a REM, or "rapid eye movement" state.

"Part of our 'fight or flight' reflexes to keep us alive includes the switch into the REM state of consciousness," he said.

He explained during REM sleep there is increased brain activity and visual stimulation. So intense dreaming occurs as a result.

And the bright light I saw and so many other people have claimed to see? Dr. Nelson has you on that one also. "The activation of the visual system caused by REM is causing the bright lights," he said.

Then how about the tunnel that people see? The one that leads up to it?

It's caused by a lack of blood flow to the eye, he further explained. "The eye, the retina of the eye, is one of the most exquisitely sensitive tissues to a loss of blood flow. So when blood flow does not reach the eye, vision fails, and darkness ensues from the periphery to the center. And that is very likely causing the tunnel effect."

Hee, hee. Reading that death-encounter story and the memories it stirs brings me a smile--Rose was a closet Republican. Whatever it was that happened to me then, I'm still alive, I've always said thankfully. And I'm sure glad, too, for the “second chance” to make even more friends after that; and to dare share with them my particular philosophy on Life, such that it be.

Hee, hee. When the Roll is Called Up Yonder I think sharing lasting friendship with each other is going to carry more weight than all the static gold bullion Republicans can rustle up between them. So mostly now we just need to hold on tight...And wait for the moment to pass.

Just my humble opinion, of course. Not my wife's. Nor my banker's. Just mine.

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No WikiLeaks entry for Redford, Tx, teacher. Why?

The late Mrs. Lucia (Chita) Rede Madrid at home in her library. President George H. W. Bush honored her in 1980 for her contributions--what actually amounted to grassroots diplomatic efforts to obtain books needed to educate the local children on both sides of the border around Redford, TX. (DMT file photo)


                                                            By A. Daniel Bodine
                                                        desertmountaintimes.com
REDFORD, TX—For the life of me I can't understand all the hubbub about the recent WikiLeaks controversy—the disclosure of thousands of pages of diplomatic worry messages from various governments, about this or that, all strung out on a public clothes line. Whether the game is anti-imperialism or hunkering down for the next “they're coming!” wave, it just seems releasing all these documents is about as relevant as pin the tail on the donkey. No one has rights to their private frets anymore? Or to think nasty thoughts about their neighbors? As long as they don't get involved in a bedroom or barroom brawl? And hurt somebody? Or are we in the throes of a different Revolution?

Years ago a masterful schoolteacher here, whose name later would be added to the Texas Women's Hall of Fame, had another style of diplomacy, a way of uniting the divided and extracting more than a pittance of continuing civil contributions for her county and her country at the same time. Lucia “Chita” Rede Madrid started a library in her home, actually what was a combined store and service station too, and used the books to help produce good citizens.

Faced with a paucity of educational material with which to educate her students, this teacher stiffened her neck. And went directly to “the people” for her books. She lived on a road to a major national park; where folks would stop to buy gasoline. She didn't hesitate to ask. Donations! And when the books started coming in, she donated space in her home in which to store them. Invited all the kids around Redford, both sides of the border, to come in after school to read and study. And then, to make sure they learned, she donated countless hours over the years of her “free” time to read with them in the library during many long evenings, asking those questions a good teacher repeatedly asks 'til a light goes on in a student's head—all to build the library and to see that the education process worked!

To honor her achievements, in 1990 President George H. W. Bush called her to Washington and presented her with the President's Volunteer Action Award and the Ronald Reagan Award for Volunteer Excellence for all her work. For unknown hundreds of students over the years, she not only bridged the world of unenlightened ignorance but also merged two distinct worlds of cultures. And she always kept photos in her “library” of those former students who'd gone on thru the higher academic world of excellence to distinguish themselves. The proof's in the pudding! But you'd never find such diplomatic accomplishments on a WikiLeaks document! It begs the question, What're we missing?

Redford is in southern Presidio County, a tiny community located near a historic river crossing on the Rio Grande across from Mexico in rugged Far West Texas; maybe 15 miles downstream from Presidio, the only official port of entry with Mexico between El Paso upstream and Del Rio downstream—about 500 river miles. Even further downstream from Redford on the scenic River Road, of course, over in Brewster County, is the huge Big Bend National Park. It draws thousands of tourists each year.

The Presidio County seat is in Marfa, 60 miles north of Presidio thru the Chinati Mountains, located in good grassland country. Even though a smaller community than Presidio, as a ranch center, historically Marfa's been the center of commerce. At least since the railroad's westward expansion. And with commerce, so goes the location of the courthouse, is the usual rule. And where the courthouse is, historically in Texas, there, too, lies the political power.

Presidio and Redford, both on the river, admittedly, are much poorer. Presidio lies across from a much larger Ojinaga, Chih., MX, which is at the confluence of the mighty Rio Concho coming down from the Mexican Sierras. Downstream lies Redford (itself a mere half mile up river from the historic El Polvo community crossing where migrating Indians crossed back and forth between the Americas for thousands of years), and also across from the equally tiny Mexican community of Mulato.

All of these communities along here are integral to the makeup of what once was simply called La Junta de los Rios (where the rivers meet). And the farm land that stretched up and down on both sides was invaluable. Sadly, you see a lot of U.S. Border Patrol vehicles now on the U.S. side here because of the War on Drugs naturally. Salt has claimed a lot of the land, too; farming doesn't pay as well anymore. For many other reasons equally as well, of course. But the ripples of America's bad drug habit influences even here, let's just say quietly.

Besides farming, Redford for years had something else a taxing entity wanted dearly—its proximity to Big Bend Ranch, one of the largest and many would say also one of the most historical ranches in Texas. It's addition to a tax base meant a good chunk of change. And Marfa ISD, of course, with more political clout, figured out a way to get it annexed into the Marfa school district, all those miles away; and did so. And life was better for Marfa ISD. How much trickled down into Redford is in dispute, of course. But for Marfa, life was better.

Until even higher politics got involved. The ranch owner, with friends in high places, somehow got the state legislature in Austin to purchase his huge Big Bend Ranch, and turn it into a state natural area (now a state park). The biggest in Texas! And with this new exemption, of course, exit the lucrative ranch from the tax rolls of Marfa ISD and even Presidio County. Which, again, friends, was a good chunk of change. How the ranch—both coming and going—effected funding at the tiny Redford school, of course, is a matter of ad infinitum debate.

But Mrs. Madrid never hesitated in telling her side of the story though. She retired teaching in Redford in 1979--after 27 years. But not before establishing her library. Imagine the picture, if you will. Her bosses were in Marfa. How many miles away? And a dwindling number of district books (per student capita, maybe?), may or may not have been in Marfa, too. What was she to do with those cold facts? You can't educate students without books! Or a library either! What was she to do?

“That drive was the most difficult for me,” she told me flatly once, paraphrasing her from an early 1990 interview I remember doing in her home library after President Bush had given her the awards. “...to drive all the way up there, and for them to tell me I couldn't take this book, or that book...”

It made an even longer, agonizing drive back home, to say the least. What's a teacher to do without books, for cryin' out loud!? You talk about a dilemma! But teachers of yesteryear! You grew up with the stories, didn't you, dear reader? What did they do, huh? What not enough now are still doing unfortunately. They rose to the occasion! Met the frontier challenges. And Mrs. Madrid, bless her heart, stood right up there with the best of them. Maybe even a little higher, many of her former students would argue no doubt.

Jefferson Morgenthaler, a lawyer and corporate communications consultant in Boerne, TX, has written an excellent book about La Junta de los Rios called The River Has Never Divided Us.(University of Texas Press; 355 pp, 42 photos, 8 maps). In it he describes Mrs. Madrid's effort to educate the children around the Redford area by putting together the library, indeed work that was recognized by the two medals from President George H. W. Bush in April, 1980. By the mid-80s, Morgenthaler states she had collected 20,000 volumes.

Perhaps more poignant are the words by her son, Enrique Jr., reported in the internet genealogy blog Prima Elisa by a distant relative, Denise Chavez, now an artist in California. In a story entitled “My Desert Flower,” she wrote, “He told of his mother's weekly trips to Marfa...to check out sorely needed books for her school. She collected Sears & Roebuck catalogs that served as valuable teaching aids. The catalogs' contents opened up vistas not seen before in this remote frontier. The children learned math, copied pictures, and learned about faraway places. After she retired, Chita continued her quest for books. Pleas for donations went out to every passerby and tourist who stopped at the Madrid Store. Boxes donated by a local milkman went up as shelves. As news of the project spread, Chita happily spent all her time (in retirement) cataloging and installing the Dewey Decimal System (in her library).”

Extraordinary, yes. Why news of that kind of diplomacy can't be substituted for some of the notable WikeLeaks overly publicized tidbits is beyond me. Throughout the world, it makes governing much more efficient; for society, raises far fewer hackles. And Life is both better and more peaceful. But instead many of us have to live in perpetual states of anxiety. Either the sky is falling or someone is coming to get us!

Practically every news outfit around the world now (including the many small regional or localized ones who've arisen in recent years with an internet presence) has conspicuously put out page after page of these released diplomatic documents, as though the future of civilization itself was at stake. West Texas Weekly, which is striving to be a greater voice in the Big Bend now, for instance, came out with its internet version several weeks ago. “Wikileaks: Secret/Confidential Diplomatic Cables Concerning Mexico,” the headlines read. And then it proceeded to tell the reader why.

“As citizens inhabiting the border with Mexico, we have a duty to stay informed about both governments: theirs and ours. The following diplomatic cables about Mexico were classified Secret and Confidential. They were leaked to WikiLeaks, a site dedicated to providing information and important news to the public. By providing access to you, I am not condoning or condemning the person who revealed this information. Rather, I want you to be informed. To quote the New York Times: '[these] documents serve an important public interest, illuminating the goals, successes, compromises and frustrations of American diplomacy in a way that other accounts cannot match.'”

It's just a shame that in things that really matter more to most readers who're in the thick of surviving Life, the kind of diplomatic works like Mrs. Madrid's (and don't think the really large media outlets couldn't find scores of them, if they weren't too preoccupied with coming up with “news”) always fly under the radar; don't meet the criteria of what's needed to be judged news. Call it the sad state of our civic state. For whatever it's worth. And this from someone who spent years while younger as a professional journalist, too (desertmountaintimes.com).

Without going into such events as the recent tragedy in Tuscon, it's simply noteworthy to say the past two years have been extremely politically charged. Now with government deficits seemingly out of sight, the economy in terrible straits and no end in sight, the word revolution has become such a buzzword you might even look for it in an upcoming Superbowl ad. World news events of the last few days have been prominent with the overthrow of the government in North African country of Tunisia, for instance. Some are putting it at the feet of WikiLeaks and social media's almost instant spread of information, too.

Don't want to stir the water none here, but there's a big difference between overthrowing a dictatorial government in Tunisia and overthrowing a democracy in the U.S. Hee, hee, ours appears to be coming down fast enough all on its own, if the last election is any indication. Democracy may be the best means to organized revolution man's ever put together. But the slow swirl of Change, indeed, is happening all around us. Imperialism and corporate greed clearly are in the process of being checkmated, it would appear. Life's gonna get better!

But this is all the result of decades of anti-hedonism and environmental fighting by many millions of people the world over. Whether or not social media arriving on the scene in the last few years—and most recently, WikiLeaks—has been an accelerant or not in this process is open to debate. But why foam at the mouth or spend more and more time nervously looking for a shelter somewhere because of it.

Personally I prefer to look for a shade and tell a few stories like those of a Mrs. Madrid somewhere. They show me not only what men and women of this great country have done, but what they can do. And leaves me with the good taste and vision of a better Tomorrow on my brow. That's something to write home about!


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Showtime II: Political Hate Talk and Tucson's Killings

By A. Daniel (Dan) Bodine

Admittedly this should be one of those no-brainers, as our mamas use to warn us, but whenever in the heat of religious or political discourse we need to watch our mouths, for fear someone may take the words the wrong way. Ain't that the old-fashioned way we “seniors” were raised? Or most of us? It's not now. Explosive economic growth during the Sunbelt Era transformed us, I have long argued. Greed and thirst for power have propelled ugliness into our midst.

Last Saturday's deadly carnage in Tucson, AZ, of course, is but one more example of what happens when ill-conceived, political hate rhetoric trumps common sense. A young local malcontent many are now describing as being mentally ill took a 33-round Glock semi-automatic pistol to a local Congressional constituent meeting and shot 19 people, six fatally.

One of the injured, now in critical condition, was Congresswoman Gabrielle Giffords, D-Ariz. Her district, scene of the shooting, was “targeted” in last fall's heated Congressional midterm elections as being essential for a Republican victory. She was shot up close in the head. Among those near her killed was a key federal judge, a Republican, there simply to speak to the Congresswoman about his mounting federal caseloads. It makes no sense, indeed.

Personally, my background includes 20 years in Texas newspapers, both dailies and weeklies, as a writer, editor and publisher. Most recently I've retired after another 18 years as a small-town Texas border judge—mostly as justice of the peace; many concurrent years, too, as municipal court judge (desertmountaintimes.com). The long and short is that I've reported on, observed and had to deal with the mentally ill and retarded on numerous occasions; and have especially been observant of their reactions to the sometimes off-cast way society treats them. From my experiences, it seems the nation and State of Texas in particular, has come a long way in improving how they're treated. But the situation still isn't pretty. We've too many loose cannons amongst us.

What will happen now to 22-year-old Jared Loughner, the accused shooter arrested soon after Saturday's incident, will be determined by the courts, of course. But get ready for another sideshow. The issue of mental illness is certain to be an issue in his trial. And like last year's rancorous national health debate, look for a genuine Showtime here, too—with the Left and Right and extremes of both shouting at each other for political points. One wonders, indeed, where all this will end?

“Targeting” political opponents--the latest ugly version of this virulent genre, such as it is in American political campaigning--has roots in the New Right's ouster of Jimmy Carter in the 1980 presidential elections, that saw Ronald Reagan elected. I learned it while researching and writing an M.A. Political Science thesis completed in '84. Right-wing conservatives, emboldened and eager to profit by the Sunbelt's explosive growth in the South, Southwest, and West, recruited the nation's evangelicals into battle, using most notably the Rev. Jerry Falwell and the Moral Majority; and drew up “hit lists” of liberal Democratic candidates in congressional districts around the country to take down.

That system of success has only been tweaked and fine-tuned further since, no doubt, by both major political parties. But how much longer can this nation continue to allow such an apparently irreversible and polarizing method of campaigning to encroach into a system of government that can only function thru compromise? Loughner is an excellent example of how it's poisoned us as a people, the argument can be made.

He previously attended one of Giffords community meetings in 2007, only to ask, “What is government if words have no meaning?” according to a close friend, Bryce Tierney, in an exclusive interview with Mother Jones Magazine (motherjones.com) posted on the net Jan. 10. And the response, whatever it was, ticked him off. “Ever since that, he thought she was fake, he had something against her,” Tierney said. Earlier reports had Loughner flunking a drug test when he attempted to enter the U.S. Army after that, but Tierney doubted it. And raised mental culpability instead.

Nick Baumann, author of the MJ article, quoted Tierney as having told him as time went on his friend apparently further succumbed to a delusional, “nihilist” view of the world which he'd first started forming in high school. Loughner was “obsessed with 'lucid dreaming'” Baumann wrote in the article, “--that is, the idea that conscious dreams are an alternative reality that a person can inhabit and control—and (Tierney) says Loughner became 'more interested in this (dream) world than our reality.'”

Furthermore, there's a “dream journal” Loughner kept that should be telltale evidence about the accuser's mind. “I saw his dream journal once. That's the golden piece of evidence. You want to know what went on in Jared Loughner's mind...that will tell you everything.”

The dreamer was believed to be unemployed. He enrolled last summer in a special community college class, apparently to bolster his learning level, but didn't last long. News accounts said the instructor kicked him out because of disruptions. The years after high school are troubling enough as they are, but to be searching for a decent job now with no more educational background than he had was especially troubling, one can imagine.

And last year's fiery political climate--especially in Arizona, inflamed as it was already with passage of what appeared to be such a bold anti-immigration law--further ensnared Loughner and his way of dreaming, one could also easily argue. After all, Giffords was battling Jesse Kelly, a fiery Tea Party challenger and former U. S. Marine who served in Iraq, who was furious over the passage of health care reform.

On his website during the campaign, in encouraging turnout for his fundraisers, he posted a photo of himself holding his automatic weapon. An ethics problem, you think? Valeria Fernandez, a New America Media writer, in a story posted on alternet.org earlier today, hinted such. In “Giffords Shootings: The Poisonous Fruit of Arizona's Vicious Politics,” she quotes the Associated Press as reporting that Kelly not only held fundraisers with the website's promotions but also “urged supporters to help remove Giffords from office by joining him to shoot a fully loaded M-16 rifle.”

Over the edge maybe? Wait 'til Loughner's trial! Judy Clarke, a federal public defender who has handled such cases as Ted Kaczynski, the notorious Unabomber, has been assigned the case. If you're going to purchase anything for the show, please don't make it a gun, however. Popcorn will do fine. Maybe a little butter on it.

Hah! Now that's our traditional spirit! Hee, hee.

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