Deep Throat and Officer C.

I have a load of terrible photos I took this morning.....next year I am going to schedule a visit from Bennie, Conall or Jacek at wildflower time.

The damn GWP (German Wire Haired Pointer) will not be denied. I tried to stay in bed past 7am with my obscure Ian Rankin Scottish detective novel.....and the dog barks, bites, tears off covers......and then starts bringing me my boots and shoes and his collar.

So.....we walk. And I read my novel, the Herald.....and count wildflowers. The other day I counted 27 or 28 different species....and as the days get warmer and longer, I could see them drop off one at a time.

Just like with economics....the little ones go first.

The ones under your feet.
'
On our hike we go to a disused private driveway that leads to a glorious flat 10 acres owned by some rich hippies from Marin. They visit every ten years or so. They are part of the tiny water system I maintain for ten of my neighbors.....so I have an excuse to trespass: "Just checking the meter!"

The property is magic.....a flat field of tall grass, old oaks, and a dizzying array of wildflowers. I am not the only one who knows.....there are wild turkeys, lots of quail and pigeons, deer, hares, rabbits.....even a damn badger.

Two days ago....when running up my wildflower count.....I was chuffed to be walking along a country way, crushing myriad wildflowers with each step. Not because I am peculiarly viscious.....just because there were so many it was impossible to step without stomping on dozens.

I decided not to be bummed about this, but to be grateful for an abundant Nature who generously scattered thousands of petals in my path. I mean......I was walking on a road, not some wilderness pasture with the fucking bears. The tiny flowers were flourishing everywhere along the path, and in the woods and roadside. I felt like some corny bride, with six-year olds scattering petals in my path on my way to the altar to meet my beloved.

My East Coast education and that damned Irish irony.....comes back to haunt me with Robert Frost:

"Two roads diverged in a yellow wood...."

So, now I need Bennie, Jacek, Conall and fucking Robert Frost.......for my morning walk. Can't see a problem there. Low maintenance fellow that I am.

Anyway. Two days hence from the 28 count, with no rain.......the flowers are dying. The little world has changed. It has crumpled in on itself....party over, time to buckle down and survive for the next nine months. My footsteps over the last months have worn out the wild flowers and grasses on my path and there is a tunnel cut along the road that marks my morning wandering. The dogs respect it....and even though it drifts about a bit on the trail while I read while I am walking, they only tread where I have. Xabi the Grandpuppy does it at Formula One speeds......and makes all the corners with only a little skidding......there are turkeys to chase....and that fucking badger.

I was feeling so peaceful this morning....and so bummed at the loss of my little wildflower friends.... that as my thoughts drifted to the whole Jensen Camp/Officer Cocksucker drama.....I just wanted to let it go.

"Why Can't We All Just Get Along?"

Maybe it isn't all that bad.....maybe I could write something.......Oil on the waters....

Phone rings. Caller ID says: "Pay phone. Salinas"

"Are you the owner of the Store? (Older voice). Well, I am an old fan of that Store. I love to come in and have a cold beverage on a hot day, and talk to your store ladies. I know the people in those camps.....and I have artist and poet friends who live there."

I am very disturbed at what I just read in the newspaper."

I can't tell you who I am......because it would cause big problems.... I just want to say that some one needs to stick up for these people, because they are getting a raw deal."

The older gentleman went on to cite County and State ordinances....by the numbers.

"I know Phil Higgenbotham.....and he IS a cocksucker.....in just the terms you described. I know a lot about him...so much so that I can't tell you who I am. He has abused his authority in terrible ways. He has hurt people and frightened them terribly....and he has abused his authority in ways that are actually criminal. He needs to be sued. Government cannot act like this."

"Well, sir....with the greatest of respect....that was my initial impression five months ago."

"You were right. Phil Higgenbotham is a volunteer with the Sheriffs Office......has anyone ever asked to see his credentials? He has no more authority over those people than the Man in the Moon!"

"No, sir. He has actually never introduced himself to me or interacted with me in any official way."

"Well...he hasn't got any. He is a vehicle abatement officer only. He is a volunteer Sheriff. Like a Crossing Guard. He can only deal with derelict, unregistered, nuisance vehicles abandoned on private property that are causing problems for the property owner. He has no authority for health issues, he cannot enter a private residence, he cannot go past a locked gate, he has no authority for code enforcement, planning issues, or building department issues. He is causing innocent people a lot of problems and he needs to be stopped, and the only way to do it is to sue him in criminal court for criminal acts, and in civil court for abuse of authority. And if anyone in the County backs him up for a minute, which I doubt.....they need to be sued as well. One lawyer with a set of balls will set all these terrible people running for cover."

The gentleman went on to state County and State statutes in detail.......

And believe me......I know a lawyer with a giant set of balls. (And he hates Hillary Clinton....personal aside).

"This is a trial balloon. This are some people in the County trying to illegally establish some kind of legal precedent over poor people in violation of the law and all common decency. It needs to stop, and someone needs to stand up for these people. I appreciate what you have done....but it is not enough......"

"I can't tell you who I am, because I am way too close to this and I know way too much about this. Just know that these are good people in Cachagua and they are being shafted by a deranged person with a personal vendetta."

I mentioned historical precedent for these kinds of quasi-legal operations in the name of "The State": Hitler, Stalin, Mao, Pol Pot. George Bush?

"Exactly!"

Oh, shit.

The worst part of being genetically paranoid......is being fucking RIGHT.

OK.....So much for the Peace/Love/TieDye.

As much as I would love all this to go away.......one vicious prick nutball has a self-appointed crusade......that is causing completely needless heartache, loss and anxiety in our little world.

And the general mass of people are so used to abuse from authority.....that they buy into it.....locally and nationally.

A butterfly flaps its wings in Brazil....and a hurricane destroys a city. George Bush.....Phil Higgenbotham.

"I have a badge! I need to come in and inspect your floor coverings! You are on probation.....You must comply."

"I have a badge! Your fence is six inches too high! Your property is condemned."

"I have a badge! I smell rats. I can have you shut down because of my olfactory and official superiority."

I must say.....Deep Throat was right. Someone needs to step up and.....in the Quaker sense: "Speak Truth to Power."

We googled the guy. Pay Phone. We analyzed his call and googled his responses.

Verdict: Deep Throat is a retired judge. Or a former Sheriff. A high level guy who is concerned with the tiniest people being fucked over.

"Thank you, Jesus". I mean, "Thank You, Deep Throat!"

And "Fuck You, Officer Cocksucker".

Back to my path......and back to my Eastern upbringing.....and back to Robert Frost and the path in the woods........

Not to mention the crushed baby wildflowers.....

"Two roads diverged in a yellow wood....
And longing to travel both.....and be one traveller...
Long I stood.
And looked down one as far as I could.....
To where it bent in the undergrowth.

And took the other, as just as fair.
And having perhaps the better claim....
Because it was grassy, and wanted wear.....
Though as for that, the passing there....
Had worn them really about the same.

And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh! I marked the first for another day.....
And yet knowing how Way
Turns on to Way.....
I doubted if I should ever come back.

I shall be telling this with a sigh....
Somewhere.......
Ages and ages hence.
Two roads diverged in a wood...
And I....
Took the road less traveled by.......

And that has made all the difference.

Vote Obama.

And Dave Potter, while you are at it.