Saturday, October 24, 2009

I Pity the Rich, The Powerful and the Petty

I write this blog with literal tears in my eyes. I sit here writing to you from the edge of hell. And I mean hell as dark as a sunless universe for all time. And I found out the most trite thing in the world: There is only love.

I must change in my life. I'm pretty fucking scared. I have no real family, that's all a lie. But that's all I've ever done: protect my lies, not my life. And it leaves you with hands stained with blood - the blood of who you loved - and loved you.

How does one put back together a flower snipped in two?

So I've been forced from my cave of emptiness. I must step into the light and face life. This is the chance this hell has given me. I have brought this on myself. I could have learned in a way of love instead of pain. Learning the hard way really sucks.

I have a suicide post drafted. Who am I? I am Mozart without his music. I am Robert Browning without Elizabeth. I am lost at sea.

The achievements I'm most proud of are meeting Debby and writing my novel. Here's the start link to it here (just keep clicking through to the start page). Einstein here in his infinite wisdom of lying kept it hidden. It's true I had plans for it had I matured as a person, knowing that only then I could be sure of its completeness. I had other dreams as well had I become that person.

It seems I will be trying some group therapy. I don't have high hopes, I have fallen far. I see my myself mocking it in my head the whole time and feeling degraded. My idea of group therapy is this:

There have been helping hands, keeping me from falling into the abyss and you know who you are. But I must be most grateful to the one who's taught me this very hard lesson. To be honest, my chances are slim at carving out a life for myself after doing so much damage. And my self-trust is struggling at this point. You see, there are realities all the prayers in the world can't change. The career of Roy Hobbs, a shadow of what could have been.

But damage has been done and a price must be paid for that. I will try to be as the reformed Scrooge, make what I can of what little life is left of me - all the while knowing it could have been a thousand times more. This trail of snipped flowers I've left will haunt me for all eternity. I'm so very sorry.

Life is in your dreams, not your body.

Tuesday, October 20, 2009

Are We Blind To What's Happening?

We all know...

it's wrong to base a society on greed
(but we have to cater to our idea of human nature!)

it's wrong not to allow people to work
(but we must never change our system!)

it's wrong to murder families around the world
(but we have to make ourselves feel "safe"!)

it's wrong to use for evil those who volunteer to serve
(but we have to say our troops do only good)

it's wrong to poison our land, air and water
(but we have to make our quarterly profit goal)

It's wrong throw people into the streets to die
(but we have to make people earn the right to food and shelter!)

it's wrong to deny medical treatment to our fellow man
(but we have to blackmail people when they need help most)

it's wrong to say we do good when we do evil
(but we have to believe our lies or there's no hope in the insanity we do)

and it's wrong to think our hearts have changed when our actions have not
(but we have to pretend we've changed so we won't have to)

I got just one question for you: Who the fuck are you to yell at God?

We are going down the wrong road. Yet we do nothing ("Hey, we'll lose only if we admit we're wrong!"). It's not that we don't know (as some would claim), it's that we don't care to heal this.

You ask why God does nothing, God asks you the same thing.

We think we're smart. Too smart to trust love! Can't trust your fellow man! I got news for you, pal, you're trusting your fellow man for your life no matter what you do (you plan on sitting there pointing that rifle the rest of your life? Can't live like that either.). All this pain is folly, so why continue it?

Wednesday, October 14, 2009

Mind Scribbles

Why Wall Street always wins:

Pleasing herself, little Suzy brought the last slice of cake to her sister - though having had none herself. No one told her to, no one taught her to. She just did it because she wanted to, a natural human instinct.

Suzy's mother, however, was livid to the raging core.

"You little Commie brat! Don't you EVER give food without getting something in return! Next thing you know everyone will be sharing everything and the whole world will go to hell! I’m teaching you human nature if it's the last thing I do and I will NOT let you destroy Western civilization - and that's that, young lady!"

And on that day Suzy learned what it means to be responsible.


"Is that Your answer, Old Man? I guess You're a hard case, too."


You think mandatory metal detectors in schools are a good idea? You think a bill to hinder global warming is a good idea? You think passing a law against putting babies in microwaves is a good idea? I got news for ya folks: if you’re so fucked up to gotta pass a law for it, then it's too late already.


"Hooper, you idiot!"


Sydney Carton sacrificed his life for a woman: "It's a far, far better thing I do, than I have ever done." Bullshit, you can’t buy you’re way into Heaven. What a fucking a loser. When this guy gets to Heaven God's gonna boot his ass back down here and show him the true meaning of sacrifice: "Learn how to make a marriage work. You're not getting off that easy, pal!"


"You never ease off on somebody like that... not when there's money involved."


They called her the Ward Lord in our pit of pain, pills were her bullets and prescriptions her chains. We feared her guillotine guidance and voracious vision, droning her drugged domain. "It's good to be God," she whispered in a conspiracy of one.

But I broke into the store house and found the thousands of vats overflowing with every kind of pill imaginable. Every shape and color were of the factory design. Factories make things "official", "unquestionable". These pellets to paradise were like carved wooden idols of old: they meant nothing but were made to mean everything.

But no matter the size or shape, all the pills were the same - they just wanted us to think each unique. For the Ward Lord mandated from her throne injection of the poppy pills and when done, dutiful patients danced on the wires of marionette puppets, learning to be good boys and girls, just as the Ward Lord intended. But never as God intended.


"Life all comes down to a few moments, this is one of them."


I remember driving through Austin and I saw these high rise condos where UT students stayed, places I'd have problems even paying the property taxes on. And I thought how those kids there never touch the earth. I can't even imagine what their conversations would be about. Now, I'm not judging or condemning here. I wish that fate for everyone. And I'm certainly sure some were suffering because they were expected to be there but really had no idea what to do with their lives. It still really is all about plastics for many.

But then I saw other students on their bikes, hungry for their education, focused on what they wanted, all the while serving food to the rich students. Their goals weren't just monetary or prestigious titles or living up to the family name - just to make something of themselves. Some of the rich kids had that same eagerness in their eyes too, but it was rare. It's better to have an identity than money.


"Would you leave it!"


The Artiste, the Wannabe and the Stoner.

"Hey, dude, you’re naked!" giggled Stoner Guy.

The nude, much pretentious Artiste was dismissive: "You mental midget. Your problem is you're incapable of grasping the deeper meaning of what you see."

"Whatever, man! All I know is I can see your wanker hanging down."

"I seek to convey an idea far beyond your depth. It concerns the intellectual dishonesty of clothing. We are all naked underneath. I am revealing that inner truth, shattering the pretense and thusly spreading enlightenment to the masses. A Nazi out of his uniform is merely a flabby white man with a pot belly."

"Oh, I get!" exclaimed Wannabe. "That’s brilliant! I want to spread enlightenment too!"

Later, Stoner Guy got a phone call from the police station as his two nude cohorts asked to be bailed out from the "fascist, narrow-minded, conformist police cretins". Stoner Guy never did find the station - which was OK by him because he was afraid to go there anyway with a roach in his ashtray (no, it didn't occur to him to throw it out!). Afterwards, a movie executive called wanting to do a cinematic version of the trio's story, which later became an art house smash.


"Man...ancient race"

Monday, October 05, 2009

New Conservative Bible Nukes "Liberal " Passages (Not Satire)

I read about this lunacy of Bible editing over at HuffPo and marveled at how once again true life has trumped even the best satirical minds. It's just difficult to make one sink so low and to think so little of one's fellow man. Is it possible to underestimate a conservative?

But just what do conservatiff mean? It means simply, "no faith". Those without faith become conservative. And those without faith are the ones farthest from God - and therefore have the most need to proclaim God's blessing. Ergo, you get crap like this: people who want to re-write the world so as to "prove" God loves them. Faithless is as faithless does.

There are advantages to my lowlife existence in that I can pretty much get in anywhere - as long as I'm willing to clean up the joint. People will install million dollar security systems but by God they ain't hauling out their own trash. The human heart is a vault that can always be cracked if you listen for the right combination. Anywho, I did get a sneak peek at these "warriors for the word" and here's a few of the rewrites I found:

New REAL Ten Commandments:

1. I am the Lord your God (Which means us Christians should be in charge of everything!)

2. You shall have no other gods before me (keep holy the dollar to rule all life!)

3. You shall not make wrongful use of the name of your God (God only loves us. Don't you dare use his name to say he loves you!)

4. Remember the Sabbath and keep it holy (never pay overtime for Sundays)

5. Honor your father and mother (and remember we're your daddy!)

6. You shall not commit adultery (while running for re-election)

7. You shall not steal (You shall pass laws to make it legal first. God bless the banks and bailouts. Amen.)

8. You shall not bear false witness against your neighbor (unless your neighbor interferes with the worship of your money god, e.g. heathen environmentalists)

9. You shall not covet your neighbor's wife (Your immigrant maid is another story)

10. You shall not covet anything that belongs to your neighbor (There's no need to covet once you swindle all the worldly goods from your neighbor and they become yours. Give all to the church!)

I don't have to care
because God hates you!

Jesus also has his moniker changed to "Supply Side Jesus" and praises the temple money changers for the synergy of combining church and business, hailing them for thinking outside the box (Apparently the new Jesus loves generic corporate phrases). Jesus also praises the tax collectors for hoarding their money to let it trickle down to the poor. Later he chastises a woman who gives her final two bits to charity, accusing of her of wanting to be a welfare queen.

There's also new psalms like: "Turn your back on the poor, the needy, the oppressed - for they have failed to worship the one true money god and their suffering is just. Make them your slaves and dispose of them as you wish." Well, I knew they were gonna work immigration reform in there somewhere.

Also, after Moses leads the Israelites out of Egypt, he then warns them not to get any bright ideas about unionization. He goes on to state that once Pharaoh becomes "too big to fail", it would be their duty to stay on and support him - even at the cost of their own lives.

One passage that caused much grating with these torchbearers for truth was that of "turning swords into plowshares". At first they were going to nuke it ("Obvious typo!") but then decided to reverse it to say plowshares should be beaten into swords and a "great profit shall be derived for God". How patriotic to give the military industrial complex some legitimacy.

But these agitators for avarice virtually exploded at the end, screaming red-faced, "Take it out! Take it out! Protect our 401k! God must heed our will!" Then they ripped the page from the good book and called my unholy (i.e. poor) ass over to "burn it in the depths of hell." I told them that was my plan already. Here is what caused so much consternation:

"I warn everyone who hears the words of prophecy of this book: If anyone adds anything to them, God will add to him the plagues described in this book. And if anyone takes away words from this book of prophecy, God will take away from him his share in the tree of life and in the holy city, which are described in the book."

The joy of rediscovering you

Sunday, October 04, 2009

People Say I Have To Smell Their Farts, I Disagree

Defeat The Press

I try to stay away from TV talk shows. It might be different if everyone were drugged with truth serum beforehand - or at least drunk - so we could hear the true unfiltered voices within. Instead we get some really finely polished bullshit delivered in tailored suits and textured smiles. Yaaaawn!

But as so often happens in the shelter-hell in which I reside, I woke in the middle of the nightmare and dragged myself into the TV room in the dead of night, desperate for any bearable distraction. Blinking and half awake I fumbled around looking for the remote but instead my grasping fingers found this note: "Remote is broken. Larry puked up on it. Asshole." Lovely - someone forgot to give Larry his fur ball medicine (and no, he's not a cat).

The world is a freaking conspiracy, isn't it? God trying to teach us a lesson about learning to live together. I sighed, leaning back in my chair, extending my arms to match the cross upon which I was being martyred by the missing remote when my haze gray eyes saw still another note on the wall: "Use this wand till the remote gets back." Well, maybe there's hope for civilization after all!

So I grab this wand and right away it has this weird vibe to it like I haven't felt since I was kid - back before I knew everything. I looked for the manufacturer's name but all I saw was a logo labeled "Elven". Oh goody, elves made it! Always buying on the cheap around here, aren't we? I also noticed there weren't a lot buttons on it. What the hell, just so long as it changes channels and has a mute button I'll be fine.

Consume or die! (I did)

So I start flipping around through all the late night crap and it turns out for one to be useful in one's life one must be either exercising on machines costing the price of used Honda, snuggling under a stainproof blanket the size of a small tent or chopping vegetables angrily into dust. Always good to have one's life invalidated by the loud, obnoxious voice of Billy Mays at 2 AM.

That left me with recycled Sunday morning talk shows, the kind that make your ears fall off and your brain shrivel. They're borderline terrorism. That's when they start in on the Michael Moore film about capitalism or moneyism or this ism or that ism. Only the memory of the frantic, coked-up image of Billy Mays kept me from changing the channel (yes, I speak ill of the dead). But I could darn sure mute those talking heads - and that's when I noticed the extra button.

"A 'Truth' button? What the hell is that?" That can't work - can it?? This I have to check out. So I pointed the wand right at those million dollar men of make up and this is what I heard:

"Michael Moore doesn't understand human nature. People are always going to make other people smell their farts."

"I agree, mandatory fart sniffing is mandatory. If you don't appeal to people's desire to make others sniff their farts how do you expect to build a society?"

"Absolutely! Forced fart sniffing has always been around and people aren't going to stop anytime soon. It must be taken into account if one wants to be pragmatic and practical."

"Is there someone else we could talk to?"

The last statement caused me to do what I usually do when I see such shows: scream at the TV. "Pragmatic and practical?? Are you out of your freaking mind! You smug bastards don't know shit about human nature! Look at you idiots: like you know anything!"

"Of course, we all know the hazardous effects of over-inhalation of anal gas and that is why we need to tightly regulate this behavior."

"It's the damn Mexicans invading our shores with their Taco Bells and refried beans screwing up our system!"

"Yes, there should only be certain times when one can force one's farts onto the populace at large. What I can't understand is why we let those regulations lapse. People are up and farting whenever they like!"

These Einsteins just be hitting all me hot buttons. "You can't regulate farting! You deluded idiots! You cannot be this stupid! Gimme some of your wasted salary!"

"I don't think there's any doubt a society must be based on forcing farts on one another but that must be done in a responsible way."

"The real problem is the Chief Executive Farters running out of control forcing innocent folks from their homes."

"One thing is for sure - and it seems Mr. Moore doesn't get this - is if we disallow the forcing of fart smelling all of society would descend into chaos and ruin. Only the sniffing of farts ensures our future."

By this point I was apoplectic, a lost homeless soul venting at a TV screen in the middle of the night in a Dallas shelter in a country of maniacs in a world gone mad. What must the angels think?

Although I was highly agitated, I slammed off the TV and went back to my cot wondering how I was going to get off this planet alive. How can people say such things in broad daylight? No wonder everyone hates the media. But no one ever calls them out! I'm all alone, trapped in a world of holy farters.

Even God does it!

CODA: As the early morning fog cleared I remembered the true wonder of my middle of the night excursion: the Elven remote! I could hit that "Truth" button and then everyone would see the insanity! Try telling me I have to smell farts for food then, motherfuckers!

Damn, I hate it when I let my stupid anger get the best of me! I didn't even remember where I left the wand. Suppose someone took it! That familiar sinking feeling in my stomach returned as I rushed into the TV room only to find Larry's grubby paws fondling the remote - the old remote.

"No! No! Where’s the wand? Where's the wand for the TV remote control?"

"Wand? What wand? Ain't never been nothin' but this ol' piece of junk."

"No, last night..." - my better judgement was kicking in - "there was a wand on the wall and a note saying to use that for the remote..."

"Really? What for? This one works just fine. You musta been dreamin'."

As so often happens, I found myself standing alone and ignored as Larry sure enough turned to a morning talk show - and he too talked to the screen. "Right on, dude! You tell 'em!"

Then I got ready for my day of smelling farts.

Oh, you nasty boys!

Friday, October 02, 2009

Would You Speak If You Were God?

Elmer sat on his front porch forlorn and stroking his shotgun. He didn't get to fire his gun "no more" and that cut him to the core. Each day he pined away for his glorious shotgun blasts of the past, the "only times I done felt alive." But no more chances came his way. "God has done turned His back on me!"

His insides boiled night and day but relief never showed its face. He prayed for death but death would not come. Tortured for all eternity, he rocked back and forth in his chair in nonstop dread, pleading for just one more chance to live.

Like an endless loop, he replayed in his mind the few, sweet moments of his shotguns blasts of yore. Never had he felt such feelings of satisfaction as he did at those times! Energy surging through his veins, his drowning heart breathing the free air and his imprisoned soul let out of his cage - just one more time, please!

He could see the face of Light now, strolling into his front yard, beaming with happiness and the eagerness of one who brought good tidings. The Messenger from God had been sent with news of the Truth - truth Elmer long prayed to hear. He heard it would set him free and he knew without freedom only death awaits. What a feeling to see a dream come true! Elmer's eyes closed on the front porch, immersing himself in the sound of the messenger's voice once more.

"Elmer! News for all time! Mankind is good! There's no need for war at all!"

Real Jesus aint got no Les Paul!

"Is that right?" mocked Elmer, picking up his shotgun. "Well, whadda ya think now!" And a furious blast destroyed the Messenger, sending him back to where he came from. "No need my ass! People is evil. Ya GOTTA kill 'em!"

Elmer was on a high for days afterwards, bragging to his friends how he showed that "so-called savior what's what!" How he gave him "an education he won't forget!" And that people like the Messenger "just don't got no sense of reality." Elmer played the role of the dutiful hero. "I was protecting my family, I was. Sorry that poor bastard had to learn things the hard way, but that's the way he wanted it. He done asked for it!"

Now Elmer had himself a fierce love of God. The Good Book was his guide and he "takes it right personal" when disparaging remarks are spoken against the Word. Elmer and his other God-fearing buddies went on hunting parties against the "enemies of God!" because "some people just need killing! They don't know the truth!"

Elmer don't hold for them kind of shotguns

But nothing angered Elmer more than a "godless heathen" who claimed God did not exist at all. Had he not seen with his own eyes his prayers answered? No one could take away what he knew to be true. It galled him how "folks is betrayin' God by pretending He don't exist - when I know for a fact He does!" Elmer's initial act of faith in bringing the Messenger caused him to speak with great authority and none could stand against him.

Those days were long gone now as the fading sun cast haunting shadows upon his deck. "Why don't God speak to me no more?" he fretted. Was that one wonderful moment of living life never to return? As much as Elmer had enjoyed killing the enemies of God, it was like any other drug, leaving him empty in the end, unable to feel. And as his feelings disappeared, so did his satisfaction, his shotgun god fruitless in its search for an answer.


CODA: God sat with a vexed face before his computer. He read Elmer's email: "Dear God, Can I please, please shoot your Messenger one more time? I'll do anything You say if You just give me this one thing! I'm ready to be tested, Lord!" But right as God hit the Delete key, his PC crashed with the blue screen of death. "Damn Me for making Bill Gates!" God leaned back in His chair and sighed, covering His face with His hands. "These dang humans! It's so hard to communicate with them!"