How To Make Both The Police And Protesters Happy

Stop or I'll cry!

We all know that cops have it rough. It's a dangerous job but less so than many people think. Garbage collectors, construction workers and the transportation industry suffer far more fatalities as a percentage than police. In fact, 2013 had the fewest law enforcement fatalities in six decades. But the common wisdom remains they are in a constant danger for their lives - which makes for really good copy even as the police amp up their armaments year after year.

So why the increase in police violence? I'm sure there are many reasons but only one cause: guilt. The good book says the evil run even when no one is chasing them - or threatening them. They are literally afraid of their own shadow. Must shoot that guilty conscience dead!

A cop's wife once told me 95% of cops are assholes. Many people think the police are arrogant power trippers. But the reality is that is just a cover up for a submissive nature. They must hide their inner bitch as they act as puppets for the powers that be. It's humiliating to be an unquestioning lap dog in perpetual need of approval. It's just a matter of how big of a useful idiot you want to be. The ones who pull the trigger are the biggest idiots of all.

If only we could get police mothers to act like this

We don't have a justice system - never have. We have a legal system. And while our legal system may exonerate the police killings, at the end of the day you the shooter must live with what you've done. All the no bills in the world won't save you from the demons in the middle of the night calling out for truth and justice. The overlords who pat you on the back are laughing at you for being such a sucker. What a tortured existence these killers must lead.

If only we could pass a law to make people grow up. But we know that cannot be enforced. Which means cops are gonna keep on killin'. We all call the terrorists cowards but never call police terrorism cowardice even as they pick on the weakest of the weak. And that, my friends, is where the real problem is. If we can't stop police killings we can at least change who they kill!

If the cops need to keep killing then they need to kill rich white people. Trust me, you won't see masses of black protesters over that! Suddenly their principled concern for justice and civil rights evaporates like a fart in a high wind. Suburban whites won't protest because their future depends on selling out to the man. Poor whites feel too guilty they aren't rich. Yup, coppers, you can kill all the rich white folks you want and no one will say a peep!

Let's face it. Seeing a few Wall Streets traders dragged out of their Aston Martins and put in choke holds for parking in handicapped spaces would be pretty funny. Annoying rich white commentators on TV would act all enraged but normal people would give an honest reaction. "Hedge fund manager dies mysteriously in back of police van." "CEO shot while jaywalking with malicious intent." We deify the rich in this country while demonizing the poor. Time for some role reversal!

In the end, increasingly self-paranoid police are gonna shoot with every tweak of their conscience as their fellow conspirators laud the increasing violence to "make us safe" and the violence that violence begets will continued to be called "inexcusable thuggery" even as the inexcusable thuggery of the police continues unabated by a populace turning a blind eye while drunk on wishful thinking as we go hurling further into the abyss. Anyone want to guess what the future of that is?

Part 7: Why Am I Not Shot?

As much as I bitch and moan about having only a lifestyle and not a life I continue on with my wicked ways. One always has to have a direction or face exploding - the conundrum of this world. So what do I do? What I do best: spend money. I love watching Overhaulin' but I'd always said I'd never want a car from Chip Foose. Resto-mods (restored but with heavy modifications) ain't my thing. I like old cars to be time machines, to transport me into an era I never got to experience. But then I found an exception: cars not worth restoring back to original spec.

I already own completely original Maserati Meraks but when I saw this rotted out one I got an idea. Why not do a resto-mod and make this as bad ass as possible? So that's exactly what I did. And it is awesome. Horsepower is over twice the original with upgraded suspension/brakes/transmission. Interior seats were tweaked for more lumbar and the body went through full media blast before repaint in a light silver fleck. Couldn't wait to get it back from the Gas Monkey boys!

Took it down on a road trip to Austin to stretch its legs. Alice In Wonderland being my favorite book I went to see a premiere collection of Alice memorabilia at the University of Texas on the 150th anniversary of publication. Ate at a cool Austin join named Hoovers then on to the wonderland before heading back at the speed of sound. New engine waaaaails! I love this car that can now compete with modern sports cars. (Only compromise was the tires. Not ruining the look with low profile 20 inchers!)

In Austin, one looks for cool, not expensive

Was dark when I got back. Was as much a mind trip as a road trip. With the distraction gone, heading back to the hotel room seemed exceptionally pointless. May as well spend the night roaming the streets. But I was tired, resigning myself to my gilded cage. Seeing the Alice exhibit was painful. What have I done to contribute? My domain is only of this world. "When Alexander saw the breadth of his domain, he wept for there were no more worlds to conquer." Alas, only art is timeless.

Next day at the warehouse I took out my customized Mercedes Sprinter van. I take it out and park in places just to be in a place no one knows where I am. I draw the curtains and listen to folks pass by at White Rock lake. It was only then I felt safe enough to do something that made my heart pound. I felt like a criminal returning to the scene of the crime. "Careful, you could get convicted!" But sometimes, you just gotta know.

Just what would I do without my many millions?

Trolling through the craigslist employment ads was a horror show such as I'd never imagined. Why aren't people pissed as hell? Talk about exploiting your masses. Hump, scrub, lift and hawk wares in indentured servitude for life. Ten bucks an hour?? Hell, I tip the valet more than that. How does anyone survive on those wages? How do they have kids? I completely do not understand. These fuckers at the top will crush you! Believe me, I know. Do you really expect fairness for hard work? Wow, just wow.

'Tis dangerous going down the rabbit hole

Predatory. Sadistic. Parasitic. The jungle decay is far worse than I ever feared or dare imagine. It has always eaten at me on my times of ostentatious displays of wealth. Part of me expects to hear Lenin's cry of "Loot the looters!" and then off with my head - or worse, my Maserati. But, damn. Now I'm really scared. Are people going to take this shit forever? The world as it is now is Pharaoh's wet dream. Unions are hated and workers are willing slaves. Trust me, show me someone who promotes hard work for others and I'll show you a lazy bum. I hear it all the time.

None of the joggers or bike riders who passed by knew I was in the van but suddenly I felt my whole world shrink. I couldn't help but feel that at any moment an angry mob would start rocking my vehicle, overturning it and start chasing me down the street. My hands began to sweat. My hidden escape a claustrophobic trap. The famed silver star up front nothing but a bullseye. Oh, shit!

I could see my chest heaving up and down as I lay on the floor. The whole world seemed spinning around me. This isn't going to last, is it? We're headed for a fall like never seen before in the age of Man. This is what's been bubbling below the surface for me for so long. Everyone else senses it too, scrambling to grab what they can before the clock strikes midnight. Love really is the only thing we can take with us.

When I finally got up from my altered state I peeked out the window but the world was none the wiser to my epiphany. None the wiser to the one coming their way either! Still I felt it prudent to get the hell out of there before I was lynched. I just couldn't shake that feeling. One thing I knew for sure: either the world was off kilter or I was; my outlook skewed permanently.

The thought wouldn't stop hounding me: Why am I not shot? I have to know! I have to know or I can never walk freely down the street again. Why is it around the world a rich man lives on one side of the street and a starving man on the other and revolution doesn't break out? Oh, there have been upheavals in the name of justice and equality but none of them have been true. All the stats show the rich get richer and poor get poorer with each passing day. What gives?

Then it hit me.

Everybody wants to be the rich man. Everybody wants my deal. Spoil it for me and it's gone for you. Like I said before, every life has to have a direction, something to live for. But are people's lives so empty they'd be willing to live in chains just for the idea of keeping the rich man's dream alive? Everyone tells me dreams aren't important but in the end, they determine everything, from living to dying. I only wish I could find mine.

Text War

You don't want to tell me?

Why do you even ask?

It's a simple question...

Without a simple answer...

Is it because you don't trust me?

It's because you know I do!

Ah. I can appreciate that.

It's good to be appreciated. All assets appreciate.

But not all asses.

You really want to know, don't you?

Only in a nosy/interested/curious sort of way.

If I answer do I get a candy bar?

You'll get two!

At least you have a good humor about it.

A Good Humour bar.

There you go with that wacky English spelling!

Including U requires a sense of humour

Or maybe a sense of tumour?

Ha! Touché.

Whoa. How'd you get that accent to show over the e??

Secret! I got my secrets too you see.

Secrets are annoying with someone you want to share everything with.

How's that medicine tasting??

Haha. Not good. Problem is I don't want to answer your question
  dishonestly or flippantly like I would with an outsider.

So don't.

It could require painful self-reflection and unpleasant self-realization...

Or not.

Or not :)

I admire a man who still dares to use emoticons in 2015.

Are we dancing or dueling?

Both. Quit stalling.

What was the question again, milady?

You can't scroll up?

Finger is tired.

Want me to give you the finger?

Walked right into that one... So you want to know how smart I am.

I want to know who smart you REALLY are.

'Who smart'?

Oh, my Freudian slip is showing

That question makes my defenses pop up, even with you.

Swing for de-fences!

Bribing me with baseball puns!

Charming, aren't I?

Maybe I'm not as think as you smart I am.

We can always call this a draw.

But I want to answer.

So why not?

I guess because I never have before...

I'm fine either way. Really.

I know. You be cool like that :)

I guess if I had to confess

I'd say I'm the smartest - and dumbest - person on the planet.

Damn...

Poisoned Treasure

At every important meeting sponsored by the VFW I was always introduced last. This was because of my Distinguished Service Cross, second highest medal that can be awarded. No one else had any higher or even its equal, thus my announcement was considered one to be of saving "the best for last." My applause would be the loudest and my children and grandchildren had the proudest faces. These things were my Poisoned Treasure.

An investigation is done for every DSC to determine its merits. But mine was done during an unpopular war - a war needing heroes. The details of my story I shall not recount. Now now, not ever. The pain is too much. I am already shredded beyond recognition. I wonder if anyone noticed when I stopped laughing anymore. Weakness is a weight that buries you over time.

"What use is a dead nigger?" I'll never forget those words. It meant that simply by virtue of being white I was valuable without having to do a damn thing! I was drafted because I wasn't valuable like the college kids. I never rose in rank nor had the ambition to do so. It was Hamilton who faced responsibility. It was Hamilton who died rescuing the wounded. I lay hidden, trapped in terror, frozen, a complete coward in the eyes of heaven. I don't have the words to describe that paralyzing fear. I can't afford to have them regardless.

Hamilton saved three men but was shot dead bring back the fourth. I was too scared to even provide covering fire. God damn me. God damn me to hell. That's certainly where I've been all these years. All I did was bring back the fourth the last bit of the way. I did that out of instinct, before I could think. The sound of the moaning drove me to him. I had to stop both our suffering.

The political types asked me to lie. A live white hero could serve the country better than a dead black one. The way they put that question I don't think they had much use for a live black hero anyway. I agreed to the lie despite the screaming inside that told me not to. The fourth soldier's memory was so shattered he really did think I rescued him from enemy fire. The army ran with that tacking on the three, and you should have seen the smiling faces of the brass. Goddam, they loved a good lie more anything.

For a while I even had myself convinced I was somewhat worthy. I never told a soul I didn't lay down covering fire like Hamilton told me to. Thinking back, I guess I hoped that meant he wouldn't leave the fox hole - and thus wouldn't leave me. But I just blotted out the parts I didn't like and clung to that last short bit of my carrying a man back. But the war got even more unpopular no matter how many beaming white heroes were propped up or John Wayne Green Beret films were made. The whole damn thing was a lie.

"Come out from among them and be ye apart." I know exactly what that means. I lied, the army lied, the country lied. Who will be the first to admit it? It's why we keep committing the same mistakes over and over and over, believing the same lies over and over and over. Whoever breaks from the communal lie will be thrown to the lions. "Your son died for nothing, ma'am." Who has the courage to say that first? Sons and daughters will keep dying until someone does.

But what of me? My war is over. What is the point of breaking my family's heart? What good will come of destroying my heritage? The country won't come clean just because I have. Things will go on as before - except my descendants will be marked with the blood of a coward and a liar. I don't see the value of truth. If the powers-that-be come out and say our wars have been lies I'll certainly add my voice to the chorus. Otherwise, what's the point?

I have less than a year according to the doctors. Do I die a sinner or a saint? If God values truth then why doesn't He/She defend it? Why are those who tell the truth are left to be crucified and those who lie rewarded? My years of self-punishment were an exercise in futility. Watching TV I always sweated out the liars getting caught, rooting for them to remain undetected. Here I am about to get my wish: to die with my lie intact.

I would consider coming clean if I could see some point to it. Obviously, my soul is worth nothing in this world; nothing but a piece of meat to the army and everyone else demanding the rent - or a piece of my alleged glory. It would be pleasant to believe differently but that is wishful thinking. We all like to believe we're something special, something important. We all tell ourselves we're Jesus as we nail Jesus to the cross.

It's funny, because at times I feel it's life and death that I should come clean and tell the truth. But when I ask myself why I lose that understanding. What is real and what is not? It would help if I could see God punish the liars instead of making them rich or the President. Where's the proof truth matters? Philosophers say it's the currency of love. But I'm not going to destroy everything on a guess.

I guess I'll just die this way. Who gives a shit?

Mohammed Shoots Americans For Sport! Haha!

I can't stand Americans! They are worthless savages. What good are they to me? What use do they have to the world? Their lives can have no meaning. So taking their lives has no meaning! Me and my buddies like to blow them up and shoot them for fun. Don't see why anyone should have a problem with that.

War is everywhere, like always. Must shoot to kill to live! But my buddies and I get bored - way bored - and heck, if you aren't killing you aren't making the world safe for your kind. Praise be to Allah! When they asked Amir about it later he was like, "At the time, what was going on around us, it wasn't far-fetched, it wasn't bizarre. It was like, 'Alright, sure', you know. 'This is OK.'" And fun!

People asked us, "Are you man enough? Are you tough enough? Can you pull the trigger?" So we showed them! But we're no dummies. Don't want to shoot anyone who can shoot back, right? Doesn't really matter who as long as we get one of them dumb ass Americans. "Nobody's innocent! Fuck 'em!"

First we had to get us a "drop weapon" to plant on them after the kill. Don't want anyone to get the wrong impression - like that an American can be innocent. Plan was to throw a grenade at the dude, yell "Grenade!", shoot his sorry ass down and drop the weapon on him. And you know what? It worked like a charm! "Fuck, right on, man. We got a kill!"

Dumb American bitch went down like a sick of shit. Told you they were nothing! Everyone was so proud of us. "Welcome to the club! You're a grown-ass man now!" It's like Kishwar was saying later, how left out we felt before we got us a kill and the all the killers were getting the glory from the big shots. "They were getting all the applause, everyone giving them high fives, telling them they're made men and everyone needs to look up to them." Well, we weren't going to stand for that.

Bitch boy we killed was 15. When American locals show up we pointed at the drop gun and asked who the bad guy was we killed. Turns out it was his father we were talking to! He starts crying over that worthless American brat. Us? We cut his finger off for a keepsake. Fareed explained: "Let the finger decompose, then take the bone and make a finger bone necklace out of it." Brilliant! Who wouldn't want an American trophy around their neck?

We got a couple more this way too. We were making the world a better place getting rid of these Americans. Sort of like killing germs. Then it all went wrong when the assholes up top come along and pick on us for doing what everyone is doing, saying we gotta act like we care about Americans even if we don't. They said if they put just us away they could say we're the only ones doing pretend kills and the rest of the killers would be safe. We were kind of fucked after then.

They got us in these separate rooms and I'm getting all pissed off at these people talking down to me, asking me what in the hell I was doing like they don't already know. Just doing my job! I was told, "Your job is to kill everything that gets in your way." I can't believe they are getting so upset over a few Americans. But next they tell me killing Americans is good! "Then why the hell are you pissed off when we do it?"

They go on to say they really aren't pissed at all. That everyone back home will act like they are but they aren't pissed either. It's just a big show so some people can pretend they're moral when they aren't. They said it would all blow over real quick with no one giving a shit because it's too much effort to pretend to care about American lives. But also that we would be stuck in jail for years. Damn. Should of killed more.

****************************

Of course, the reality is it's Americans killing Afghans for sport. There was some short-lived outrage and the predictable "bad apples" talk, "this is war", and the rest of the ready-made excuses. Stick kids in a sick and immoral situation and this is the fruit it bears. Most people are no better than the "Kill Team". We succumb to cowardice and pressure everywhere from the board room to the bedroom. But that's the whole point. People are weak and pathetic, which is why it's best never to pick up a gun in the first place.

Note: All quotes in italics are actual quotes from the Kill Team.

Gurin to Sakura (Greens and Cherry Blossoms)

I think even if I were given unlimited time and unlimited funds
I'd still not reach the bottom of the Japans.

The deeper one looks, the more there is to find.

Just as Oda Nobunaga, warlord of one of the smallest and weakest provinces,
used his mind to conquer Japan,
this small island country uses its mind to resonate around the world.

Ultimate survival requires a trust in Nature.

On the list of the infinite,
today we learn the lesson of the cherry blossom and the greens of spring.

a hangover

is nothing as long as

there are cherry blossoms

old pond

a frog jumps into

the sound of water

where was the shower?

with umbrella in hand

the monk returns

flowers in this world

my wine is white

my rice dark

to live in this world

as Sogi says, is as long as

taking shelter in the rain

cuckoo

now as for haiku masters

none are in this world

How To Load Jews Into Gas Chambers

"Just because we've been told do it doesn't make it right."

"It's the [insert corporation name] way."

"How is that even relevant to what's best for the business? This direction will harm our customers in the end."

"Now you're just being difficult."

"Just tell me my analysis is wrong!"

"I'm not going to discuss this anymore. You need to work on your negative attitude and stop questioning everything."

I usually right fiction with facts to match my feelings. But that above is a paraphrased conversation I've actually had more than once. You see, there are many people in this world who judge their morality in equivalence to their obedience. "I'm a good person. I do what I'm told without question." Once in that mindset, you too can be a concentration camp guard!

Now that might seem like hyperbole to some but if you have an inability to say "No" to what you're told to do you are in essence a Nazi, a destroyer. ("Have you ever said No?" That question really riles them!) You will find these people can tolerate no protests of authority for without morality ascribed to authority those who obey lose their ascribed morality. Pointing out facts that demonstrate a destructive act by authority is deemed treasonous to the cause and simply overlooked.

Religion by any other name still smells as sick.

Of course, treason to the cause of treason is, in fact, patriotism but that is only realized after the fact when the entity in question is dead. Whether it's Nazism or Enron or the eventual collapse of the United States, the "troublemakers" of the times are history's heroes. But rarely do we hear their names honored in praise. That's because we haven't learned our lesson yet.

Someone unexposed to the perils of capitalism once told me no one is pointing a gun to my head. Dear God in heaven, if only I could find someone who isn't! As the CEO loots the company in broad daylight everyone nods in agreement to keep their jobs. Want to be a hero? Go be eaten by the lions in the street. You and your whole fucking family. Whether it's the Night Of The Long Knives or mass layoffs, we cower in false morality saying, "Who am I to question?"

"Who are you not to question?"

In the Milgram experiment it was studied how far people will go in obeying an authority figure.

In Milgram's first set of experiments, 65 percent (26 of 40) of experiment participants administered the experiment's final massive 450-volt shock, though many were very uncomfortable doing so; at some point, every participant paused and questioned the experiment; some said they would refund the money they were paid for participating in the experiment. Throughout the experiment, subjects displayed varying degrees of tension and stress. Subjects were sweating, trembling, stuttering, biting their lips, groaning, digging their fingernails into their skin, and some were even having nervous laughing fits or seizures.

65 percent sociopaths. I've witnessed its equivalence. "Boy, I sure does hate doing this but I gotta do what I gotta do." The assholes think that disclaimer somehow provides cover, that the body of the Jew can be unburned or at least the perp can be held unaccountable later. I hear that garbage every fucking day. Unless you've witnessed it, you can have no idea the rampant unaccountability in corporate America. No one wants to be the person who says the Emperor has no clothes.

It's also why corporations live in dire fear as being portrayed as immoral institutions, dropping anyone with even the hint of scandal. To be seen for what they are is their greatest fear, the hopeless hope that the truth will not will out. Those who want to keep eating keep dumping poison into the environment, use lives and throw them away when they can't be used anymore, and allow the thieves at the top to loot us with abandon.

To put it in Biblical terms, corporations are the Beast, 666 represents the mythical numbers we let rule our lives. Profits don't exist. Countries don't exist. The need to blackmail does not exist. All fictions of the mind. Only Nature exists and She will have her ruthless say in the end, the final sweet wonderful trump card. Go ahead, call Her a troublemaker!

So on the the 70th anniversary of the liberation of Buchenwald, do not ask yourself how did this happen. Ask yourself why do we let it continue to happen. Make all the arguments you want, shout down the questioners, and gather the most votes as to what reality is. Ain't gonna save one single life in the end. After the Lie dies comes Life - but only for those who refused to lie before.

Kill The Infidel! (A Tale Of Two Infidels)

"We must kill the infidel! There is no living with him. He is not like us."

No eyes disagreed that looked upon the infidel. "This must be done. Only death will suffice. The good must be preserved." The verdict was final. The infidel had other thoughts.

"So anyone who disagrees with your outlook has to die? Savages all!"

"You are a threat to us. You must be destroyed."

"But I see you as the threat. Who are you to judge my actions?"

"With you, everything will be destroyed. Our lives, our way of life, all would be gone."

"I don't give a goddam about your way of life! I stand for the truth."

"The truth resides with us."

"Might makes right, huh? Majority rules? Sometimes it's just one person who is right and if you'd listen to that one person you just might learn something."

"We know what we know. The issue is not open for debate."

"Closed-minded dogma is the sign of a man who is out of touch with the truth!"

"We know we are right and you are wrong. These are our laws and they are holy and inviolable. There can be no debate."

"Of course you don't want debate! Might find out you're wrong that way! You are not open to the truth, that's why you have no future!"

"You speak of yourself, not us. Carry out the sentence."

***

After his head was chopped off a small girl was curious. "Mommy, why did they kill him?"

"He was caught trying to poison the town well. Everyone would have died."

"Why would he do that?"

"He said because he was doing God's will."

"But what if he really was?"

"Don't worry. God doesn't want us dead. Only that man did."

**************************************************************************

"We must kill the infidel! There is no living with him. He is not like us."

No eyes disagreed that looked upon the infidel. "This must be done. Only death will suffice. The good must be preserved." The verdict was final. The infidel had other thoughts.

"So anyone who disagrees with your outlook has to die? Savages all!"

"You are a threat to us. You must be destroyed."

"But I see you as the threat. Who are you to judge my actions?"

"With you, everything will be destroyed. Our lives, our way of life, all would be gone."

"I don't give a goddam about your way of life! I stand for the truth."

"The truth resides with us."

"Might makes right, huh? Majority rules? Sometimes it's just one person who is right and if you'd listen to that one person you just might learn something."

"We know what we know. The issue is not open for debate."

"Closed-minded dogma is the sign of a man who is out of touch with the truth!"

"We know we are right and you are wrong. These are our laws and they are holy and inviolable. There can be no debate."

"Of course you don't want debate! Might find out you're wrong that way! You are not open to the truth, that's why you have no future!"

"You speak of yourself, not us. Carry out the sentence."

***

After his head was chopped off a small girl was curious. "Mommy, why did they kill him?"

"He was going to expose our poisoning the town's well. That would have ended our profits from oil fracking."

"Why would he do that?"

"He said because he was doing God's will."

"But what if he really was?"

"Don't worry. God doesn't want our profits to end. Only that man did."

What's Wrong With Mom?

"Mom's not her usual self."

No, this is my usual self. I just can't pretend anymore.

"She's not doing what she's supposed to."

I never have.

"When will she snap out of it?"

There's nothing to "snap out" of. The Lie is over.

The Act, such as it was, died a natural death. She'd gotten notice from on high. An angel came to her in a dream, showing her the bill for her life: $283,235,957. That's what she'd wasted with her dishonest ways. She'd need to pay it back to get into heaven. There was, of course, no possible hope of that - even if she were not set in her ways as she was.

So I did all this for nothing. Decades of scrambling and covering up "for the good of the family." Sacrificing pieces of my breaking heart. Denying my dreams for an easy lifestyle. How bitterly ironic. I knew I was designed as someone who needed wealth. We have 2 million but I lost 283 million along the way. I don't really have any wealth anyway. It's all Joe's and I don't dare divorce.

I thought God was yelling at me for having the money that I did, not because I was throwing it away! Easy to see now that money or no money was never the problem. It was the dishonesty. One penny or one million, if you get it dishonestly it weighs on you just the same. It was never about the amount. God wanted more for me than I ever dreamed. Now the bill has come due. Mercy me.

She could see no way to extricate herself. Her outward "success" served only to mask her inward failures. The kids notice everything. Damn! Without The Act what could she do? She could get "help" and everyone would act supportive and get to play the role of rescuing hero. What a charade that would be. Pills and pop psychology would be stuffed down her throat. Is that the ever-rising price for keeping the Lie alive?

But nothing could change the bill due. She couldn't even hide in her religion. How could she pray to God now that she knew God knows the truth? She'd waited too long to face the music. Only the idea of keeping the Lie going excited her and brought life back into her, that she could carry on as before. But her course was forever altered having faced her reality.

She had to do it, though. The nights were torture and it was spilling over into the day. The constant needling, the poking and prodding of demons caused her to cry out in her dreams to make it stop. If only she didn't know, if she could have remained ignorant and kept the ability to convince herself her life was not a waste.

******

Pointless. Everything up to this point has been pointless. Lying has been the true enemy. I'm more alone than ever. Meeting with that quack was terrifying. All he wanted to do was help me figure out how to lie again! That's the idiot's definition of "hope". There's no fucking hope in that! When I try to infer that the snake starts talking about needing to work on my attitude. Dear God, was this a therapy session for me or for him?

I've really fucked myself good.

She felt her "depression" was a good thing. Who wouldn't be depressed with a 283 million dollar invoice?? She'd wrecked her life and wanted it exposed. But she was alone in that. Subtle hints were made that if she kept on with her "attitude" bad things would happen. Shunned by her kids. Rebuked by her husband and church. Ultimately, perhaps, even cut off completely as a liability to the family - a family she shouldn't have had in the first place. So this is the comeuppance promised for the Whore of Babylon.

So he carried me away in the spirit into the wilderness:
 and I saw a woman sit upon a scarlet colored beast,
full of names of blasphemy, having seven heads and ten horns.

And the woman was arrayed in purple and scarlet color,
and decked with gold and precious stones and pearls,
having a golden cup in her hand full of abominations and filthiness of her fornication:

And upon her forehead was a name written,
MYSTERY, BABYLON THE GREAT,
THE MOTHER OF PROSTITUTES AND ABOMINATIONS OF THE EARTH

It had always been so easy to be a "good person". With her natural charms and gifts marriage had been as simple as picking and pointing and saying, "I do." She'd wanted to cash in for all she was worth. She recalled that as a time of driving anger. What was she so angry about? Because she'd felt betrayed by the falseness of her dreams? Or because - oh, no - it was she herself who betrayed her dreams. She'd just assumed her dreams would fail her and a lie the only thing left to do.

This has been a revelation to me. Is everyone as screwed up as I am? Is that why they want me to keep lying because they too live a lie? All this time I'd thought I was the only one. That's why my friends having affairs and doing what they wanted were laughing at me. I was a fool not getting my share. I thought them a fool for risking their marriage. But getting rid of this lie is the most important thing in my life! The risk was in doing nothing as I had done. At least the others had stayed in the game instead of sitting on the sidelines declaring themselves holy.

Her private moments were the new gold. The plasticine smile would fade and her Stepford goosestepping relax as the caged bird sang no more. She'd left herself no outs. She'd rowed out to sea on a wave of anger 283 million miles from land. What really scared her was her reaction to the thought of love - a thought she hadn't had in years. She knew it was her only possible hope but she wanted to instantaneously claw its eyes out and rip it apart. "Don't see me! Don't see me!"

All she wanted to do was just not lie - the greatest sin of all in the eyes of a dying world.

Part 6: Freefall To Ecstasy

1:43 AM. I don't believe it. Those kids down the hall are still going. They live in eternal youth as just a few feet away I'm moaning on the floor rolling naked in pain. These nighttime attacks won't leave me alone. A lifetime of chickens have come home to roost. I'm trapped in every direction. Demons in the dark torment me asking what have I done to deserve my massive money. Demons in the day torment me without my massive money. Some free ride this is.

The brain pain drives me insane. Still, I manage to poke through to imagine what this scene must look like in the eyes of heaven with a naked millionaire crawling on the carpet as rich kids outside the door rule the world without a second thought. I'm possessed by fear of the idea of them seeing me in this state. I feel like it would invalidate my life. Why? Why?

Oh, that's why. Because that's me out there - or was twenty years ago. Fuck, fuck, fuck. My worst fears have come true. I really am nothing. Goddam I wanted to keep this a secret. All those years wasted partying; I knew I was like a car running out of gas and I better find some before it's too late. If the people who saw me then could see me now I'd be mocked for the rest of my days.

That's a dead end too

Of course, now I think about it, many of my asshole friends ended up broken too. They were just smart enough to hide it with marriage contracts, business contracts, or soul contracts. I'm the only one who ended up exposed. How much longer does this free-falling last?

I have a "door ding" Honda I use for places where I don't feel safe to park an exotic. As a test of my self-worth, I took it down to Bob's Steak House on Lemmon. There's never any parking there so it's only valet. Even early in the evening you can at least find a couple of Bentleys parked up front. They always park the best ones there to show off. I never failed to take an exotic before but this time I took the Honda. Oh, boy.

The Woman Of Fabric could take any car there and still be as wonderful as she is. But me? I was conscious of the Honda the whole time I was eating my steak. Is the waiter looking at me differently? Do they consider me an interloper, a fraud, a poser living beyond his means? Shit, all I wanted to do was eat and get the hell out of there. I tried but I never could relax or feel comfortable. I kept feeling like I had to explain my car!

Test failed - miserably.

Will be a long time before I go back to Bob's - if ever. How can I explain myself for driving a crummy car especially after Park Place located a Bora for me of which I just took delivery. I felt my image permanently stained. This is all such a mind fuck!

I headed back to the penthouse too. Was weird seeing it empty and alone with an outsider's eyes. No, I didn't miss it, after all. Someone will be thrilled with it but the luster is gone for me. It'll be snatched up soon, I'm sure. Letting go was actually a rare good decision for me. Now if I could just find a place to go to.

The Woman Of Fabric was sent to save me. But like the savages of old I betrayed my savior. Hating myself for it won't solve anything but I can't stop the self-recrimination. Sharks sense this vulnerability and coupled with my money I seem a juicy target. It's a hell of an effort to remain on guard but in moments like this in the middle of the night crying out in agony I'm ripe for the picking and can't help it. I feel it's vitally important I keep this state hidden at all costs. I also feel it's equally important the whole world knows about it.

Stuck between the two, I free-fall. What are my options? Money won't save me. Believe me, I've tried every which way possible. Dead ends gagging on a silver spoon. Man, I'm tired. I want to die before everyone finds out what a fuck up I've been. I was supposed to live fast, die young and have a good looking corpse. Never thought about after. I was supposed to be dead by now.