I had an interlude. Interesting. Fun. Difficult. A new ‘personality’ was born. In May last year I became a ‘columnist’ in the Wednesday Garden Island Wellness section. I had 32 columns published. I loved the wonderful full color  picture Carol Ann Davis took of me.

A black and white copy – a  photographic piece of art- was displayed in a local art gallery at Kukui Grove Mall. I also had the distinction of having the most ‘recommends’-108-of any columnist since ‘recommending’ columnists began in the Garden Island.

My healthy ego was busting out all over. My self-esteem soared to pinnacle heights. To gaze in the mirror was to see stars in my eyes. I walked on air.

But it wasn’t me. I am, and always have been, one who loves to rock the boat. Make waves. Stir the pot. Rattle the cage. Shake things up and scrawl a Bettejo.

So many topics on Kauai went unstung. GMOs. Milk factories. Christian mafia types galore. Too many grizzly patriarchs to shake a stick at. Cell towers. Jesus camps. Jesus!!

Greedy landholders.

Greedy? A rogue by any other name should smell so skunk. And that’s insulting skunks.

Why is it so few on Kauai see another vision of Kauai? A different future? All they see is the same old same old. More suburban sprawl. More Malls. More cars. Buy one get one free. They go home and breed. Everybody loves his car. Cars. We need more super highways to accommodate them.  More traffic jams.  Everybody loves the smell of CO2  in the morning.

Metropolitan Kalaheo is going to get an ABC store. Walk to this convenient store and buy cheap junk food and stuff for higher prices. Walk don’t waddle.

Love the sound of traffic rumbling by.  Drones and helicopters spying by.

Love vast fields of Franken corn to feed  Franken cows who produce  Franken milk. Franken ice cream. Franken yogurt. Franken cheese. Even Franken Tee shirts to sell to  tourists. Surfers and swimmers and kids and tourists swim in Franken cow poop, which-like old fashioned humuhumunukunukupua’a-goes swinning by.

Swimming bye bye.

Everybody needs more war games.More profit for pubs and bars and grass shacks of ill repute. More forbidden beaches.

More dead whales and dolphins and seals and other living things.Collateral? They get in the way. Who needs ’em?

I’m fed up with cutsey wootsy. Think positive thoughts. Be agreeable. Get along. Meditate. Hide under the bed and all the bad sick old stuff  that doesn’t work, never did work, will go away. Maybe if you close your eyes or keep them glued to the boob. Buy ear plugs and strap a fresh air tank to your back. Buy a cheap one at WalMart and breath through a hose in your nose.

Remember to kill all the chickens. Barking dogs, prowling cats, bleating  goats. Let the hills be alive with  the sound of Musac.

Don’t think of a different future. Don’t express it or write about it. It’s a mess. Be happy.













One Response

  1. This should be your letter to the editor, speaks volumes, love it! I will publish next week!


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