"Apart from the pulling and hauling stands what I am;
Stands amused, complacent, compassionating, idle, unitary;
Looks down, is erect, or bends an arm on an impalpable certain rest,
Looking with side-curved head, curious what will come next;
Both in and out of the game, and watching and wondering at it.
Backward I see in my own days where I sweated through fog with linguists and contenders;
I have no mockings or arguments—I witness and wait."
—Walt Whitman, Leaves of Grass
Let’s make one thing clear from the outset so you won't waste your time: Politically I’m somewhere to the left of Lenin (or Lennon, take your pick). I have no interest in a neocon/Fascist engagement, so if that’s your cup of tea, please move along. Any discourse we might have will simply be a waste of time, and I have none to squander.
That said, I rank the following among my heroes: my dad, my brothers, Thomas Jefferson, Joni Mitchell, Abbie Hoffman, Bobby Seale, Che Guevara, Emiliano Zapata, Frida Kahlo, John Lennon, Jesus, Opus, the Dalai Lama, Gloria Steinem, James Dean, Screamin' Jay Hawkins, J.L. Moehring, Walt Whitman, Octavio Paz, Gabriel Garcia Marquez, Danny Ortega, Studs Terkel, Richard Brautigan, Rembrandt, Bruce Cockburn, Carl Sandburg, any of the Baroque composers, Herman Melville, Russell Means, Mother Jones, Eddie Hinton, Mohandas Gandhi, the 1920s Lost Generation writers and artists, Miles Davis, Whoopie Goldberg, Alberts Einstein and Camus, and a cast of thousands.