Let me make this clear: the Elephant in Elephant Journal bears no relation to the GOP elephant. It’s, like, an Indian Ganesh-type elephant…or something…I think. What, exactly, the significance of that is, I don’t know, except that the yoga crowd’s really into that kinda stuff.
Nonetheless, I’ve seen enough of Ganesh to know he doesn’t exactly fit Sarah Palin’s definition of a real American.
I mean, seriously, you think this guy could walk down the street in Arizona without getting asked for his papers?
That cleared up, my own involvement with Elephant began with leaving comments telling head honcho Waylon Lewis just how catastrophically wrong he is about subjects ranging from bike helmets to PETA to depression. As such, I was a bit surprised when he asked me to join famous bloggers like Bob, Chris, Brooks and this dude as a columnist for Elephant…though that surprise diminished when he allowed an article calling him a prick.
And that’s because Elephant Journal is a dedicated haven for free-range ideas. And, despite overwhelming financial problems that’d cause anybody else to close up shop and start a crunchy Boulder-based dating site for the socks-with-sandals crowd, Waylon’s turned down some highly lucrative offers to keep this ship afloat. Because, locked up in the corporate cage, the Elephant will die.
This is free expression we’re talkin’ about, people…and that includes mixed metaphors.
Which is why I support Elephant and…despite having been one of the worst canvassers in the history of the environmental movement, lasting half an hour as a telemarketer (in Boulder) and holding a well-founded suspicion that I’d have trouble selling heroin to a junkie in the throes of acute withdrawal…am urging readers to do the same.
So hit the link, people…you know you want to…