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Originally posted by [livejournal.com profile] lavenderfrost at GE, Y U NO PAY TAXES?!


The (supposedly liberal) mainstream media is barely doing jack squat to cover this, so it's up to us to spread the word.  BOOST THE SIGNAL, PEOPLE.


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... it is good to see that there are still average, everyday people who WILL take a stand against injustice:

 

 

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Float like a locust!
Sting like a scorpion!

(Okay, that doesn't flow as well as the original, but it's all I've got for this 'momentous occassion'.  XD)


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From Digital Journal:

San Francisco federal judge Vaughn Walker struck down Prop. 8, finding the California amendment that denied gays and lesbians the right to marry the partner of their choice unconstitutional. Walker noted in the ruling that Prop. 8 had no "rational basis" and perpetuated the notion that homosexual unions are inferior to heterosexual ones. He also stated that same-sex couples' desire to marry adheres to the United States' marriage history and traditions. 

More here...

This news makes me both pleased and hopeful. There is still a lot of work to be done (and my jubilance is tempered by a long evolved cynicism), but this is an important step to finally seeing equality amongst all gender orientations.

More on the ruling from the LA Times...
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Starring Jack Black... as JESUS CHRIST!!!

 

 

See more Jack Black videos at Funny or Die

A big thanks to [profile] dancingwriter for spreading the word!
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Raising my voice alongside [livejournal.com profile] fayanora, [profile] dancingwriterand many, many others:

Keith Olbermann Speaks Out On Prop 8
 
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HAPPY FOURTH OF JULY!!!

Home

Jan. 29th, 2008 09:17 am
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The definition of 'home' has been problematic for me. Much of that I attribute to a lot of wandering. My father has been an industrial electrician for most of his life. As such, my childhood has been one of constant relocation, moving from one project to the next, rarely spending more than a year in any one place.  

And those places? They consist of pretty much every one horse town in central British Columbia and a few beyond. Perhaps part of the reason I took to the small living space of my flat in the UK so readily is because much of my childhood was spent living in trailers (larger caravans, for you Brits), mobile homes, townhouses, and even hotel rooms. I don't remember exactly when we actually moved into my parents' home in Prince George. I think it may have been when I was around 10 or so. However, we never stayed in it much, as Dad's job kept pulling us elsewhere and everywhere. The house served more as a 'base camp' to which we would return to on weekends and between jobs. It was only after my first year of high school (a psychologically disastrous one for me) that my mother insisted that she, my brother and I had to remain in PG.

Few of my memories of any of these places are at all fond. As the perpetual new kid, along with sporting glasses and being a butterball, I quickly developed a strong distaste for local populations of rednecks early on in my schooling. By the time we truly settled in PG, what social development I had was pretty much stunted by nearly a decade of intense bullying. I may have spent more of my life there than in any other one location, and, indeed, it is even the city of my birth, but it ceased being 'home' for me long ago and, instead, became a prison from which to escape. 

That escape took place in my early twenties when I left for Victoria, BC, to attend art school. Victoria was a whole new world for me, filled with wonder, beauty, and culture. Surrounded by Mother Ocean and filled with many hidden treasures, I felt an immediate and deep connection to this place. The move to Victoria reflected more than just a change of geography, it also marked my transformation from bitter ex-Catholic to a life-reaffirming Wiccan, as well as the first steps towards becoming a teacher. It was Victorian soil that saw me blossom spiritually, educationally and socially. 

In part, being separated from the only place I ever truly considered 'home' was one of the reasons why my first year teaching in the UK was so traumatic. (Of course, the sheer wretchedness of my first pupils played a MUCH greater part.) The irony that I was moving from place to place following the work, as my father had done (and still does), did not escape me. 

For all the trials of teaching here, all the tears, all the trauma, the UK has seen a lot of my development, professionally, emotionally, and even physically, albeit much of that in a 'sink or swim' capacity. I've even come to enjoy the last year of my existence in my cozy little flat, the only place I've ever occupied entirely by myself. I will miss it, and the farms, and the trails along which I run. I will also miss the wonders of London and other amazing parts of Britain that I have, and yet to have, explored. 

I'm certain my journey through life will take me through many other incredible places. Aside from the UK, it has already seen both coasts of Canada, a couple of stays in Toronto, visits to Washington State and California, and even two months in South Australia. Along the way, my fascination with problem of personal connection to space has manifested in an astounding collection of photos, some of which are the only thing that can say "I have been here." I'm certain I will add many, many more photos to that collection (and to that of my heart shaped stones) before I finally come to 'home.'

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 Whilst tidying recently, I came across a small bag filled with hard objects. Wondering what they were, I opened it. My heart filled with yearning to be home as I beheld a number of stones I had collected during my most recent visit to the east coast of Canada.

On my altar I have a number of odd little rocks, many of them heart shaped. They come from many parts of the world: Canada (west and, now, east coast), South Australia, England, and the US (west coast). Most arrive on my altar as the result of walks along beaches, where I often keep an eye out for shiny, pretty or unusual stones (according to a Metis friend of mine, small ones with a hole naturally worn through them are good luck).

Prize among them are the heart shaped stones. They're gifts of the lands I travel through. It is through them that the spirits of each land show me that I am welcome. Not every land welcomes me this way; I have none from the region of my birth and, frankly, I try to spend as little time as possible there anyhow. Usually, however, each place gives me one or two.

The east coast of Canada gave me four.

I like the east coast of Canada very much, too.  

It seems pretty clear to me that it would be a very good place for me to be for a while. How long? I don't know. Perhaps maybe until the next land calls me.

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