Why I love newspapers

Or is it newscreens, newswebs or newsnets?  I haven’t bought a paper paper in more than a year.  One of my fav’s, TOI, isn’t available at my local newsstand. What’s the newsstand guy going to do when we’re all reading digitally?

Today at NYTimes.com…

• …there’s this challenging Op Ed piece on Japan’s attitude towards living by Masaru Tamamoto.
• …and a pic, taken in NYC’s Central Park, of the unrelenting quality of today’s US east coast snowstorm, which reminded me of the fight scene set in a real blizzard in House of Flying Daggers, which I once referenced in a truly bad (but heartfelt) poem called Snow in August: whiteout conditions.
• …and this photo of one of the flour wars in Greece that celebrate the end of Carnival and the start of Lent, which startled me into realizing that Carnival and Holi may be related,

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Sacred Taboos

When you break one, you, yourself, become one.

“Don’t touch that!” Whatever it may be. “Don’t even think about it!”

What about the healing touch of a Saint? Are not they allowed to touch

The Untouchables? “You’ll get germs!” By the way my mother yelled about it,

one was to assume there was pretty much germs on everything, everywhere.

All the time! Even in the bathtub lay the hidden taboos. “Don’t play with that!”

To do so was considered dirty, and therefore, I figured it must clean itself.

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Inhibitions and restrictions vary from place to place.

What was so great about Rome?

Would you do as the Romans do, if you happened

to find yourself in a Grecian state of mind?

It sounds fairly dangerous to me, weighing the risks involved.

Then again…mother owns the scales.

Skinny Dipping In Reality

A coots account of the great hippy LSD enlightenment search party…………Search Party

From Joe: “Now look what you’ve done! Got an old man all worked up about an era.”  “Maybe some old hippies and that handful of young’uns interested in the Sixties consciousness movement might enjoy it.”

Uncle Tree’s Touchdown

The Crumbs Of Humility

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The bread was broken

Torn to shreds in memory

We all share the grief

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Water turned to wine

The future turned on it’s head

The gods turned their backs