Wanna see prayer in school? Just say the magic words: Pop Quiz

There are those who don't want you to pray to Me. They will not allow you to lead your children to Me. They want to prevent Me from being in your schools. This is wrong. You know it is wrong. (I'm talking to you, ACLU!)

The enemy speaks of freedom. Yet, where is the freedom to worship Me? Should we not allow a person to publicly worship the God of their choice? How much harm can truly be done to a child to hear a few words in prayer to Me even if the child does not agree (yet)? But the right to hear Me has been denied!

I want to thank all of you who are fighting to allow My worship in our schools. I am pleased to see you do My bidding. Let us each pray that someday a child or parent may speak before all without fear, praising My word, and leading all to Me.

Looking in the Dallas Storefront Window

It's not often but occasionally I get a combination streak of curiosity and masochism and I go uptown to see how the other half lives. Bastards! That should be me. Man, I can't tell you how uptight I was. Much as I try, I can't relax. Nothing happened. Cop cars didn't come screeching up in front of me and haul me off. I just kept thinking they would. I'd heard stories of wild women around uptown, throwing themselves at men and slipping their room numbers under mens' doors at Hotel ZaZa. I thought, if I could just get enough money for a night and scam some nice clothes somehow, then maybe...See? Plans like this go through my head all the time. Always working an angle. It sucks but what else have I got? Anyway, once I heard it's $300 a night I was like "forget that!" I was born to be rich. I just feel it. There are tons of cool places around here. Little specialty stores I was dying to go in to (I didn't have the nerve to go in anywhere). All these neat eateries where to dine. An Aston Martin passed by me as I watched a whole bunch of people dressed either for a wedding or a prom headed into the Hard Rock Cafe. I even saw a place called the Idle Rich Pub. Now there's a place for me! Looking inside all these windows I kept asking myself, "Who are those people?" No one gives me a second thought good or bad. I am persona non grata. I want to scream out to the world that I'm somebody. There is a famous restaurateur here named Phil Romano that does a feeding program called Hunger Busters for the homeless. It's interesting because they always try to recognize you as a person but I have given up on anyone on the inside actually seeing me. There have been a couple of people who've recognized my intelligence and they automatically assume I've fallen from some lofty perch with a white collar job and a yuppie life. They want to help me get back there. Christ, what a spot I'm in! Always freaking explaining. It's tiring. What really got to me down here is the incredible condo/loft construction going on. I know I said I'd buy 5 homes if I won the lottery. Maybe it would be 10. The more I wandered around, the more cool abodes I found. I dreamed of life within their gates and I saw the warm glow of lights within as dusk was setting in. So otherworldly. Yet part of me was peaceful not to be part of that. I'd have to get in on my own terms. For me, it would have to be like Gordon Gekko: "I'm not talking a $400,000 a year working Wall Street stiff, flying first class and being comfortable. I'm talking about liquid...Fifty, a hundred million dollars - a player. Or nothing." Anything less is just a nicer form of cage. Even then I don't like the idea of being dependent on money for freedom. Any space I can claim for myself now cannot be bought by the richest man in the world. I can't tell you what a great feeling of ownership that is. Problem is that spot can end up bulldozed by Dallas City Hall assholes at any time. They say it's inhumane for us to live like that. So they leave us even less. Here I am in a high rise condo, surveying my kingdom. The world is my oyster and I look down upon the little people stuck in their dreary lives. Look at them scramble to their jobs! All worried about bosses and bullshit and backups. Such a cheap existence. But man, it's empty up here. Even with money, I've got nothing.

Gay love ain't just for cowboys

Within hours of my previous post, look what pops up. Damn I'm good! Here's the news direct from the AFP:

No word yet if the lovers mentioned below dressed as cowboys NEW YORK - US President George W. AntiChrist made clear to British Prime Minister Tony Blair in January 2003 that he was determined to invade Iraq without a UN resolution and even if UN arms inspectors failed to find weapons of mass destruction in the country, The New York Times reported. The presidential pervert went on to say he would "hate God forever" if he couldn't penetrate Saddam Hussein's territory. Citing a confidential British memorandum, the newspaper said the warmongering bastard president was certain that war was inevitable and made his vile view known during a private two-hour meeting with Blair in the Oval Office on January 31, 2003. After the meeting, the two leaders consummated the deal with mad, passionate gay love.

OK, I spiced it up a bit…

And remember, I don't get my news from reading the newspaper. I get it from reading the human heart. (C'mon, leave a comment - especially if that last remark pisses you off)

More Proof

Just gimme some truth - Yes, it IS blood for oil

It's always interesting when a person lies - to himself or to others. It reveals truths about a person they may not always realize. The best people for this are those who believe they can lie with impunity. (I lie expecting to get caught - it's what makes me so successful) A saw some ex-general today speaking of our sitting President saying the war was started in good conscience. The poor man just couldn't figure out why our Pres wasn't all pissed off at the people who deceived him into starting this war. What a fool. It's the sitting President who's the deceiver. And it has been all along.


This war was done for oil. Not a person in America who doesn't know that who wants to know. So here is where the lie becomes a mirror. For the general mentioned above, he wants to believe in the military as something just, his only concern was the logistics of the operation. Head in the sand. Those with a guilty conscience will immediately and emphatically accuse you of their crimes. Political people will call you political, traitors will call you a traitor, liars will call you a liar, etc. etc. It's amazing the sins that are revealed.


So here are some fun facts for those with an open mind: In our government's own words:

• Jun 1983: "Iraq probably plans to eventually obtain nuclear weapons."
• Nov 1983: "...almost daily use of chemical weapons."
• Dec 1983: Donald Rumsfeld sent to Iraq to "resume [US] diplomatic relations with Iraq" and discuss proposed Iraq-Jordan Aqaba pipeline
• Mar 1984: "The U.S. is to abstain on the resolution." Regarding United Nations resolution condemning Iraq for the use of Chemical weapons
• Mar 1984: "Iraq's chemical weapons will not change U.S. interest in pursuing closer U.S.-Iraq relations."
• Mar 1984: Rumsfeld returns to Iraq to discuss Aqaba pipeline
• 1983-1988: Iraqi warplanes drop over 13,000 chemical bombs.

      www.gwu.edu/~nsarchiv/

Two years after Rumsfeld first pitched the plan, Saddam issued a terse rejection. But we continued to furnish chemical weapons materials up until the first Gulf war. Now, of course, we are all morally outraged by their use. (Shocked, shocked I tell you!)

Interview with a Vampire Queen

Seems the Furor of our good burg here was not fond of my fair and just criticism of her diabolical efforts. Plans so evil word was spread across the land of her fiendish fantasies. Mayor Laura Miller, a mayor who will live in infamy.

Undoubtedly tormented by her inner demon, she begged to receive audience with me. So how would I, a homeless man, respond to her, a rapist of the homeless? My first response was, shall we say, somewhat negative. But then I remembered I am the bigger person and her sad little life needed my approval. Reluctantly, I acquiesced. I did feel that somehow I should get paid for enduring this.

Dallas City Hall is actually no stranger to the homeless. We pee on it often. Or used to anyway. Now I'm being invited in - escorted no less - to an appointment with the face of evil herself. Amazing what a few words of truth can do. I wonder if her first response to me will be, "Off with his head!"


Not wanting to ruffle feathers, upon entering the Berghof office I staunchly saluted with an enthusiastic "Zeig heil!". But she dismissed this as you can see in the following interview:

Evil Person: "Oh, no need for that. That's like, so yesterday. I'm a queen now!" (Giggles and a small hop)

Good Guy: "I hear you have a new plan on feeding the homeless since reading my remarks."

Evil Person: "Like, totally! I found a much better way. Are you ready?? How about: 'Let them eat cake!'" (Painfully wide plastic smile)

Good Guy: "I, uh-"

Evil Person: "Great plan I know! I read about it in a book. Those other people want to give them icky old sandwiches but I'm much nicer to them! And that's not all!"

Good Guy: "Your compassion overwhelms me."

Evil Person: "Oh, gag me with a spoon!" - suddenly that thought sounded very appealing - "I also read where you can make special beds for them they're really gonna like."

Good Guy: "Totally?" I squirmed eyeing her "Eugenics for Dummies" book.

Evil Person: "They are so rad! They'll be snug like a bug in an oven." - mixed metaphor alert - "It'll be a gas!"

Good Guy: "What a helpful person you are!"

Evil Person: "I know! Aren't I wonderful! I'm a princess and my royal eyes cannot look upon such ugly people. I want everything to be bright and cheery for me!"

Good Guy: "But Milady, I am a homeless person. You are seeing me now."

Evil Person: "Oh my!" The princess felt a pea under her mattress. "You're right. Guards! Off with his head!"

The Song of Plastic Moses

(To the tune of Come Together) Here come man plastic He come crawling up lowly He got plastic tablets He one holy blower He got prayer down to his knee Got to be a preacher he don't do what he please! He wear no turban He got Maserati He no wacky weedy He got my Bacardi He say "I am good, you are bad "One thing I can tell you is you got to be me!" Be a plastic, right now, just like me He skywalking He got plastic credit He got whitey cracker He one twisted talker He got holy down to his feet Hold you in contempt because you cannot compete! Be a plastic, right now, just like me He crazy-roaster He got good time sickness He got heady slaughter He one pleasurin' pill He say one and one and one is four Got to be a liar ’cause his lips you can read! Be a plastic, right now, just like me

Sidney Reilly - Ace of Spies

Sidney Reilly 1874-1925(?)
"James Bond is just a piece of nonsense I dreamed up. He's not a Sidney Reilly, you know" - Ian Fleming

Mundo Nulla Fides - "Put No Faith in the World" was the crest on the letterhead on one of Sidney's many corporations. Of course, for Sidney, a corporation was nothing more than a tool in a scam. All life was a scam and a scheme for him for he saw the world for what it was: a soul-less place that served only itself. A self described "practical man", he never fell for the false god of any "ism". Pretense was pointless. The rule of the world was always the same: Money rules.

One story alleges he got his stake money by taking part in the killing of a courier carrying $50,000. Not a crime in Reilly's eyes, simply a means to an end dictated by the world. Life as a slave is pointless. Sidney saw no reason to lead a pointless life.

Freedom was his secret goal. He sought to manipulate the strings of the world to a point where he could be free of them. Before emigrating from Russia to England, he faked his own death. Aliases were second nature to him. A different role for each situation, for if you did not know who he truly was, the harder he was to control. That's how Sidney got by: knowing you better than you knew him.

"Who here is corrupt?" were the first words in Reilly's head as he entered any situation. That was the key to extracting information - and information was gold. An honest man he had no use for (unless Sidney had an honest deal). Profit lay in the corrupt: those who were bribable, self-deceived ideologues (Ahmad Chalabi used this method in Iraq), the obvious self-seekers or the just plain weak - those were Sidney's hunting grounds.

The flow of information through Sidney was enormous. His alliances with the corrupt allowed him the means to gather inside dirt. He used this knowledge to both benefit himself and his agendas, the biggest of which was freeing Russia from the Red takeover. The information and efforts on these parts he gave to the West brought him into contact with everyone from Winston Churchill to Trotsky to Henry Ford. Sidney played for all the marbles.

It was in his forties he realized he was his own captor. Exhausted from a lifetime of lies and manipulation, Sidney - as always - saw the handwriting on the wall. Although sentenced to death in absentia for his attempts to overthrow the Soviet regime, he returned to Russia. Reasons for this are unclear. His smokescreen was he was on a mission to expose the Soviet TRUST agency for what it was: a fake anti-Soviet organization designed to lure in rebels and eventually imprison them. Yet there were many signs he had no plans to return.


In 1925, The Russian state gleefully displayed Sidney's body to the world as an example of what happens to enemies of the regime. Yet had Reilly just simply brokered another deal? Faking another death to gain freedom from his past? Would the man who spoke six languages, held millions in secret funds and had no delusions on the human heart simply walk into a trap? As usual, no answer was clear.

The most famous scene in "Five Easy Pieces" is when the Nicholson character uses his superior intellect to manipulate and humiliate the contrary waitress who refuses him toast. She never saw it coming. Afterwards in the car, his companions are laughing and congratulating him on his "victory". "Yeah," he protests, "but I didn't get what I wanted." Neither did Sidney. And neither, I suspect, shall I.

(For more on Reilly check here and here)

The Mamby-Pamby Man

"The truth will set you free"





He was a big, fat man living a big, fat life in a big, fat country. "God, this is great!" he beamed, roaring down the highway in his big, fat car. He had been made a Congressional Man of the Bad Ass party. "We're taking over the country!" he hollered. It was like sitting on top of the world.

Flicking on the radio he found his favorite Bad Ass butcher: Tush Bimbo. Bimbo was buzzing: "Hey everyone, ya know that fellow we all love to hate? Well, he's just a big, fat moron!" The fat man behind the wheel loved it. "You get 'em, Tush! Tell it like it is! Somebody has to stand up for the truth." His stubby fingers turned up the volume, reveling in the rhetoric. It fueled the fire for his debate that night with the guy from the Mamby-Pamby party.

The evening's debate was simple: "War. Good or bad?" Naturally, as a member of the Bad Ass party, his view was pro war. "Don't forget," his handlers warned, "Don't forget to start by saying no one wants war. We have to keep that secret." He brushed them away as a Congressional man should. Hell, how hard could it be to defeat a Mamby-Pamby man??

Bad Ass man orated first. "Of course, we all wish we could live in a perfect world where we could lay down our arms and hug." He glanced at the Mamby-Pamby man and sneered on the word hug, causing a ripple of snickering in the crowd. "Nobody wants war. It's forced upon us."

"Oh, what bad luck!" lamented his opponent. "Seems we're always stuck killing one another."

"It's the only way to fix the world!"

"Dear God, we're making the world better one war at a time. Please be patient as we pick each other off-"

"It's not like that at all-"

"Because, dear Lord, in our wisdom we've decided it's a viable option to not learn to live together. That of course is not talked about-"

"Silly ramblings of a dreamer-" fatally interrupted the Bad Ass man.

"Would you hold your horses, please!" chided the Mamby-Pamby man. Then, looking up and down at the girth of his opponent. "Actually, from the looks of it, seems you've eaten a horse already!"

The crowd erupted with a mixture cheers, laughter, groaning and gasps. The moderator called for silence. Clearly flushed and humiliated, the Bad Ass man was left gasping for defense. Mamby-Pamby man stood looking unapologetic. The moderator chastised him.

"Please, sir. This is not the place for personal insult."

"Truth should never be taken as an insult. Someday, he'll thank me."

Bad Ass man regained some composure. "The truth is you - like all your party - is unprincipled and corrupt!"

"Oh, you accuse me of all your crimes."

"You know you can't win on issues so you resort to personal attacks!"

"See my previous statement."

The moderator attempted to steer the ship back on course. "Please, may we resume discussion of the topic."

The bored voice of the Mamby-Pamby replied, "What for? I've won. I'm leaving." And thus he departed.

Back in the safety of his handlers, the Bad Ass man raged. "I'll get that son-of-a-bitch if it's the last thing I do! I'll kill him! This means war!" Similiar voices chimed in with his. It was war they decided. War on the Mamby-Pamby man, war on the whole Mamby-Pamby party. Things always come to war in the end.


Alone, driving in the dark, feelings of betrayal and regret conflicted with the Bad Ass man's anger. The moment kept flashing before him over and over, the sounds of the crowd resonating in his mind. He couldn't resolve the war within him until finally, he just pulled over on the side of the road and broke into tears.

How could this have happened?? Exposed before the world like that, caught with his pants down. And strangely, he was just as mad at himself as well, though he couldn't bring himself as to answer why. Listening to the crickets, he sat by the road a broken man.

Maybe some hate radio will clear my mind, he thought. He punched the knob to catch a replay of Tush Bimbo."Hey everyone, ya know that fellow we all love to hate? Well, he's just a big, fat moron!" Bad Ass man slammed the knob off. Not so funny now. In fact, empty and vile were more apropos. The feelings of betrayal now made sense. He was his own betrayer. Facing the truth, peace descended on him.

"Thank you, Mamby-Pamby man," he uttered."Now I'm one of you. You saved my soul."

All along the Watchtower

"Within yourself deliverance must be searched for, because each man makes his own prison."
-Edwin Arnold

It was the Worst Secret in History. For this, there could be no explanation. If known, no pair of friendly eyes would ever view him again. He was the Fool of all fools. Around his head he carried a giant albatross of shame. It was an un-shareable shame. And thus became a prison.

Five times it happened. Five horrible, unspeakable times. Just once would have been enough to brand him with a lifetime of shame. But five times? Unthinkable. Now it was to the point where even he wished to see himself mocked and tormented - maybe even dead. He bore a stupidity no man could bear.

A twisted pride ruled his life. He kept wondering why. Was it a self-sabotage thing like he had read about once? Was God controlling him, making him stupid, like He did Pharaoh? It was like the more he got, the more defiant he became - the classic fool. Was it really just as simple as that? But how could it happen five times without ever learning anything? There was no choice to but believe the worst in himself.

It was a liar's dream. His circumstance was one so absurd as to not even be contemplated. No one could possibly be suspected of such a crime. In fact, most would argue a man such as him could not even exist. The odds alone were not thought to be possible. And the only thing more unlikely than that would be his foolish reponses.

"No one must know!" was his tortured mantra. This shame must be hidden at any cost. And the threat of exposure was like living with a loaded gun to your head. And yet, he knew. If he were exposed and was forced to forever dwell on what he lost... he may have to chuck it all in. There wasn't much left to him anyway.

Could there be another chance? Probably not. And with his track record, did he really want another? Better just to live in silent infamy. He kept vain hopes that somehow his own self-recriminations could replace his true punishment. In this way he hoped to avoid responsiblity.

But reality is its own master. No amount of self-reproach would change his fate. Yet he kept trying till his dying day. Always confused, always wondering what had got into him. He died with his secrets and thus died alone. And rarely - only rarely - could he bear to think what life would have been if he had cashed even one of his five winning lottery jackpot tickets.

He had burned them all. He had to prove he was right. "God wants me dead." To show God the correctness of his stance, each ticket was destroyed immediately after its purchase. Prayers were made but not a bone in his body believed he could win. And he made his belief true.

"Have faith in the world" - Plastic Moses speaks

"Everything's fine...we are not responsible for the bad things happening to us...we are on the right path...we are making things better...it's going to be OK...we are going to live.

"Our world is beautiful...we have made things good...we have done the right thing...we made the right decisions...all is as intended...this is a world of dreams.

"Tomorrow will be better than today...we have the blessing of God...it's God's will we do, not our own...good things are coming...I am a prophet of the world...I am the plastic Moses."

The Japans - Echoes of the past

"Is this it? Is this the Japans?" It's the year 1600 and an English sailor has washed up on the shores of Japan after losing his ship as so many others had in the famously volatile Japanese waters. The crew had heard of this mysterious island but none knew if it truly existed. What they encountered would be the culture shock of their lives. Samurai walking around undisputed, able to chop a peasant's head off without a moment's notice. A fanatical belief in the order of things above any one individual. And a land marred by hundreds of years of civil strife, a centuries long struggle for power. I, too, was there. Who I was, I am not sure. Was I just another sailor washed ashore or was I Oda Nobunaga, the savage and fierce warlord who started the final drive for unification? Regardless, the echoes of the Japans still ring in my head. It is a land where life is viewed as a fleeting dream and that dream I once shared. I've had literal goose bumps reading the events of Japanese history, the Sengoku era of the 1500s affecting me the most. How I ache to once more wander the "Land of the gods" when we were free to shape the world and blaze trails of glory. I also remember the swords; sharp shiny glints of steel in the midday sun. To this day there is nothing more repulsive to me than a dagger. It has to be the most vile thing ever devised and even those for display should be melted and put to better use. Swords, though repulsive, can be works of art but a dagger is just evil. It is this violence I found fatal to the Japanese mindset, which one day led to the dropping of the two most horrific bombs in history. But at least that led to the preservation of this, one of the great cultures on Earth. So for me it was a pilgrimage to visit the Japanese Gardens in Fort Worth. I picked a day cold, wet and rainy - a time when only I would be there (and for most of the time I was). Once more I walked in the ancient footsteps and relived those feelings of being free and vibrant - this time without the horror of violence. Comparing that life to the one I had now was crushing. To go from somebody to nobody. But at least for one rainy day I was back in "the Japans". Will Adams was ship's pilot of the crashed vessel in 1600. He went on to become the only foreigner ever to be made samurai. Anjin-san he was called, and recalling the explosion of wonder and curiousity of discovering the Japans, the feelings of that ancient mariner live once more. "Marooned in the Japans" by Pilot, 'Anjin-san' (A poem written both then and now) I've found a home that's not a home, My soul no place to rest; And though I search both time and space, I never find my own. In this land I found a world, A world out of my dreams; But stranger I will always be, Yet strange my land now seems. So once again I hoist my sails, My place is on the seas; But with no points left unknown, A pilot's left to grieve. So I am like the raindrop, That lands upon a leaf; Happily rejoicing, Though I know my time is brief. For a few hours, I was Pilot. It was a very lonely feeling and I cried in the rain.

Der Furor lives

"The future is ours"

Our good Furor (it's a play on words, folks), Laura Miller, a.k.a Mein Kampf is reveling in her victory. While adjusting her armband swastika, she gloated over new eugenics laws for the homeless. Laughing maniacally, she claimed she is "actually trying to help the homeless." She spoke of her dream of a New World Order where all homeless are out of sight or, preferably, dead. She said the next step would be to provide work camps for the homeless. First of these to be named "Camp Auschwitz".


Don't we institutionalize people anymore? Are we just going to let predators like this run around free? Many turned a blind eye on Hitler's campaign against the Jews because, well, you know, it wasn't them. But because we have yet to learn anything from that, history repeats itself. I'm sure Mein Kampf would say the problem is I don't understand her grand vision for a new reich. Ah, dear Furor, the problem is we do understand. You deceive only you and your ilk.

And of course, some know-it-all liberal had to stick in his two cents on this:

     "For I was hungry and you gave me nothing to eat. I was thirsty and you gave me nothing to drink. I was a stranger and you did not invite me in. I needed clothes and you did not clothe me. I was sick and in prison and you did not look after me."
     They also will answer," Lord, when did we see you hungry or thirsty or a stranger or needing clothes or sick or in prison, and did not help you?"
     He will reply, "I TELL YOU THE TRUTH, whatever you did not do for one of the least of these, you did not do for me."

When confronted with this quote, the Furor's mysterious reply was only, "Rock harder with the Bone."
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DALLAS (AP) - Panhandling banned. Shopping carts prohibited on city streets. The distribution of food to the homeless restricted to designated areas.

With a series of ordinances governing its growing homeless population, Dallas is gaining a reputation as a city uncharitable toward some of its neediest citizens.

The National Coalition for the Homeless recently ranked Dallas sixth among the Top 10 "meanest" cities in the country. No. 1 was Sarasota, Fla.

Dallas officials say they are trying to steer the homeless toward help and make the streets a little safer for them. But advocates for the estimated 9,000 homeless people in Dallas say the city is pursuing a harsh and pitiless policy.

"That's like a form of social Darwinism, if you cut off food to force people to get help, and it really doesn't work that way," said Michael Stoops, acting executive director of the National Coalition for the Homeless.

Last month, Dallas began enforcing an ordinance that prohibits charities from distributing free food to the homeless except at city-approved locations and only after volunteers undergo food safety training, provided free by the city. Violations of the law, enforced by city food inspectors, are punishable by fines up to $2,000.

"It's OK to sell someone a sandwich, but if I hand a sandwich to a homeless person, I'm committing a crime," groused Charles Wellhausen, a volunteer for the Sathya Sai Baba Center.

The ordinance was passed last summer. Over the past few years, Dallas has also banned begging and prohibited possession of a shopping cart away from the cart owner's property.

Mayor Laura Miller said that the city is actually trying to help the homeless, whose population doubled last year and is expected to grow again as displaced Hurricane Katrina evacuees lose their free federal housing this month.

She noted that voters last fall approved construction of a $23.8 million homeless shelter to replace an overcrowded one. The 24-hour shelter would provide beds, restrooms, showers, job training and mental health treatment and is set for completion in 2008.

Boadicea White, the city's interim manager for homeless services, said the feeding ordinance was designed to fight litter and food-borne illnesses and steer the homeless to places where they could receive a variety of services, not just meals.

"We're definitely not trying to starve anyone and not trying to keep anyone from services," she said. "We're trying to do just the opposite."

James Waghorne, a 48-year-old advocate for the homeless, said the new ordinance will lead more people to eat out of the trash. He said he received food from a charitable organization during the two years he lived on the streets.

"It really wasn't so much about the food, but that someone still cared," he said.

Yes, Virginia, this is the Age of Aquarius

The end of the Lord of Rings trilogy states at its conclusion so also ended the Third Age of Middle Earth. And though Tolkien said he did not write the book as a conscious allegory to WWII, he could not of helped but to have been influenced by that time. The fate of the world was held in balance and the forces of light won - art mimics life. Nevermore could we go back to our old way of thinking. We passed through a door. Germany and Japan were forgiven. The time of war as a solution passed away forever. Having explored death, it was now time to explore life (though many would stay morally behind the times to keep war alive). Long, long had we waited for this moment. The flood had receded. Our rainbow reward was here. These are the times that have been foretold. "There's nothing new under the sun"(Ecclesiastes 1:9) the good book says. And so it is. Ancient songs were now to stream back into our conciousness. We rediscovered our place in the universe. Long forgotten dreams were given thought to once again. But would we take what had been given to us? Or would we be like the ancient Isrealites who used up their blessings and realized their woe too late? The Fifties was a time of pioneering souls. As this was a time of celebration, it was the singers and songmakers who lead the way. We were feeling our way, dipping our toes in the water. An undercurrent was forming. Life - was it really to be trusted? That undercurrent came to the fore in the Sixties. Many claim to be part of the Sixties, but few were. Most just went along for the ride, feathers in the wind. After testing us with Hitler, God now gave us Lennon. Even politics came alive with Kennedy. It was a time of questioning and searching for new answers - as long as were were comfortable with the answer. From the colors of the Sixites we go to the black and white of the Seventies. We became self-concious. Talk of revolution became talk of partying (not a wholly bad thing). Ideals were out, self-absorption was in. "Doesn't anyone believe in vibes anymore?" Lennon asked. Ah, Johnny, they never did. And we proved it by shooting him, unable to endure his idealism anymore. "Morning in America," declared Reagan, the Dark Prince. With the shooting of Lennon, the message of evil could now go unchallenged. The Eighties were like an echo, like the sound of heartbeats growing ever fainter. Until finally, the heart died. No more would our music be joyous. Silence became complete. Nothing left to do now but get angry. Since the world is crap and life - as we surmised - is crap, being angry seems almost somehow holy, somehow moral. We threw one last orgy of greed in the Nineties, all the while consuming ourselves in "holy wars". The ultimate goal in life now was to get your evil declared holy and immerse yourself in it. "They will beat their swords into plowshares "and their spears into pruning hooks. "Nation will not take sword up against nation, "Nor will they train for war anymore." Isaiah 2:4 Sounds like a pipedream, huh? I mean, everybody's vying for their own little piece of power. But the problem with declaring your evil holy, is that you then stop trying to let it go. That is a death sentence. And while it is true those are the ones running the show now, their window is short and they will die by their own hand if they stay the course. That is our Lord's judgment. Life is good (not sarcasm).

The Word

Say the word and you'll be free
Say the word and be like me;
Say the word I'm thinking of;
Have you heard the word is love?
It's so fine, It's sunshine;
It's the word, love.
In the beginning I misunderstood;
But now I've got it, the word is good.

Spread the word and you'll be free;
Spread the word and be like be;
Spread the work I'm thinking of;
Have you heard the word is love?
It's so fine, It's sunshine;
It's the word, love.
Every where I go I hear it said;
In the good and bad books that I have read.

Give the word a chance to say;
That the word is just the way;
It's the word I'm thinking of;
And the only word is love;
It's so fine, It's sunshine;
It's the word, love.
Now that I know what I feel must be right;
I'm here to show everybody the light.

Say the word and you'll be free;
Say the word and be like me;
Say the word I'm thinking of;
Have you heard the word is love?
It's so fine, It's sunshine.
It's the word, love.

-John Lennon "Rubber Soul"

That song was released in 1966. No one heard the words then. No one hears them now. In the sixties, society "...took a laxative and farted", according to Lennon. In other words, no real changes took place. His generation - like all generations - was a fraud. But I wanted to reiterate his words. Can't annoy people too much with the truth.

"We shoot everyone sent to save us," a nurse friend of mine once remarked. Ghandi, King, Kennedys, Lennon - we didn't miss a one. Problem is, the damage had already been done. Once the words have been spoken, they can't be taken back. We can't "unknow" something. We have come to realize all you need is love. We have not come to terms with it yet.

Way of the Soul: Coda

I must give my soul its due. I suspect a secret wonderous life lies unfulfilled. As a child and on through my teens, things seemed so difficult because other people were to me so legendary. They lived these god-like lives that explored all the universe and life itself. It's almost as if they belonged to some great club of dreamers that let them see sides of life few others did. But I was always shocked how even the most legendary of these turned out so ordinary.

It was me that was the legend. Even now with a broader perspective, I struggle. What possesses me to cheat myself? I understand why Jesus was killed. The greatest moments of fury in my life have been when I observed someone else not cheating themselves, and taking their due. It burns like nothing else. Your immediate reaction is to extinguish the flame at all costs. This is why it's so necessary to take a vow of non-violence.

I did read about this one dude who did only as he wanted - and never looked back. School was a waste of time, he failed all his major exams. Teachers complained he would never amount to anything. Had no use for a stupid job either, so he never took one. The world tormented this joker and the joker mocked and tormented them back. He served only his soul, firmly believing his soul would provide. Did it?

Way of the Soul Part Deux

Miss (mis) vt. To feel or regret the absence or loss of; want

It's like I'm bleeding. My unreasonable soul just keeps asking, "Where's Debby?" I explain over and over and over, and just when you think it's convinced... "Where's Debby??" It fucking hounds me. How do you "un-long" for somebody?

It's a hole I can't fill. I've thought about the traditional methods like alcohol, but I don't drink. I try lying to myself but when I want to rest, the truth seeps back in. So I just try to numb myself best I can, which is death for an artist (unless you're a fraud like Pink Floyd). And it's in this choked up state that I appear most normal - like a truly functioning human being - when I'm holding my breath. Like now.

Morning time is the worst, when it's an actual physical ache. It's a physical craving of needing to be held. And when I feel this, my soul strikes again, "Hey, where's Debby?" Yell, scream, curse God and/or Debby - nothing makes a difference. It's like asking the wind not to blow.

My depression has been increasing. Though I winced a bit doing it, I decided to splurge on a nice meal to maybe pick me up. The place was great. I got to eat out on the veranda on a beautiful night and the smells from the surrounding restaurants were delicious. Down below I could see people gathering and talking, wafts of perfume floating up to me. The place was alive. I had picked well. My deception to the waiter also seemed to go well without any suspicion of my homelessness. But a few bites into my meal I suddenly stopped chewing. What's the use of anything good with her still in my heart? I forced myself to keep chewing but it was like I was outside of myself, watching myself.

My soul also has no reason on Debby's end either. It is unable to forgive her for abandoning me. It cannot fathom her marriage; selling her charms to receieve approval and to avoid loneliness. It has a rage against her. Logical arguments do not apply. These things are the course of nature.

Way of the Soul

My soul has no understanding. It sees itself and nothing else. "But if I follow only you I will die," I tell it. Jobs I've had are too numerous to count. My soul says no to them all. It has no fucking understanding of my needing to get money. It wants freedom and life. It sees all this as a gift. But I can give it nothing. The demands of Ceasar and the demands of God - I cannot satisfy either without dying, it seems.

I hear people who say that considering your soul is a crime. They are very condescending and speak like this: "Oh yes, I understand the need to consider your soul BUT..." 'But', of course, means disregard everything I've just said. "The demands of the world must come first," they contend. "Then you may consider your soul," they so graciously grant. But those people are criminals - they worship the world. They are like Pharaoh and the Nazis proclaiming the value of work for work's sake. This is done to disguise their sadism. But let me stick them in a job where they clean industrial urinals eight hours a day and tell them to base their lives on that and they sing a different song.

Work which does not benefit your soul does not benefit God. God doesn't need the land tilled or houses built or factories run. As each of us does the tasks our soul demands, all things necessary will be done. For one man to assign that task for another is a cardinal sin. In time, the folly of blackmailing people into jobs they do not want will be proven. As nature takes its course and seeks to correct the kinks we've inflicted, the price of denial will be horrific.

Moses did not originally ask to set his people free. He merely asked for a three day sabbatical to worship God. Pharaoh, the world worshipper, called him lazy (Exodus 5:17). To do something for your soul, how useless! How pretentious and specious! Get back to work you lazy fuckers! Sounds a lot like people of today - people who will share Pharaoh's fate.

Moses later reflected on this in a poem:

Pharaoh said to me,
"Hey, boy, whatcha doin'?
"I got a cushy kingdom
"And you start a fuckin' union!"