Monthly Archives: August 2011

guest host with the most

by growlingmutt

Hi, Ken here. I’m filling in for Greg for the next week. He’s off to a foreign land Canada to visit his girlfriend.  I mean, she’s a girl and he’s her friend. But I digress. And digest.

I can’t promise to be entertaining or educating. I can’t even promise that I’ll floss everyday. But I’m up for a laugh or two and have promised Greg I’d not fly the plane into the mountain do my best.

So, Bandit, Phyllis and I are running the show this week. Fasten your belts. Loosen your ties. Apply lip gloss if necessary.

This made me giggle.
gods, bless us all.

Newly Legal: Same-sex Marriage In Washington State

by D Gregory Smith

And it’s not what you think.  Nathan Koppel reports:

The Suquamish Tribal Council in Washington has formally changed its ordinances to allow same-sex couples to marry.

The change grants gay and lesbian couples all the rights afforded to heterosexual couples on the reservation, according to this report in the Kitsap Sun.

Is this the first Native American tribe to grant same-sex marriage rights?

No, that would be the Coquille Indian Tribe in Coos Bay, Ore in 2009, the Sun reports.

Now for a tougher question: What rights do same-sex couples married on Squamish land have once they leave the reservation?

Anyone see a trend? Questions answered here.

Teabaggers: a definition

by D Gregory Smith

Overheard among the press corps this week:

Teabaggers:
Totally
Enraged
About
Blacks
And
Gays
Getting
Equal
Rights

 

 

Worth a chuckle anyway….

Poem for Tuesday

by D Gregory Smith

~Promise

I notice the green turning brown
and the windy warmth of the dry
air that says “Montana, it’s August.”

It’s nowhere else, this feeling
that asphalt and lichen are creeping,
both oozing across their rocks.

That rodents start storing and
birds empty the feeder in record
time; nameless, timeless hoarding.

It’s the movement of the heat
that keeps it interesting- it’s exactly
what movement always does.

The dance, the  sway of the
breezing brush throwing out its
eager arms for dry sun, it calls me.

The voice is raspy, smoky even,
as it pulls me in to the story of
mountains and stream beds and meadows.

I love the smell of it all-of the green
and the brown that hits my nose now,
knowing I can wait and watch with the birds

and the rabbits and the trees and the
streams and the green and the brown, for
the still promise of orange and yellow and white.

~D Gregory Smith

Cowboy Pride

by D Gregory Smith