Don't Be A Uniter, For God's Sake

My mother is a Trump voter. Our house will
remain divided until she repents.

"Do you think that I have come to bring peace to the earth?
No, I tell you, but rather division!"

Jesus, Luke 12:51

So we hear all this talk about unity these days - as expected - as we're at each other's throats more and more as we descend into the graveyard greed provides. We hear the same lamers argument how we all need to get along and blah, blah, blah. That's fine and good and about as meaningful and impactful as a fart in space. Tell me, oh wise ones, how does one "get along with" an arsonist? And to anyone dumb enough to try and answer that I'm going to visit your house with a gas can and a match so you give me a uniting hug after we watch your family burn alive right before your very eyes.

So spare me your moral tutelage. Yes, everyone knows we're not supposed to sin, idiot. Try addressing the issue at hand. As Jesus said, life is not about going along, it's about standing for something. And people who stand for something, divide. That's a good thing. When I ask, "Who wants to burn down my house and who doesn't?" I divide people into two groups. One we can live with and one we cannot. Nobody has the guts to do that, though, because a vast majority of the people are for burning it down. But those asking me to live with arsonists are as bad as the arsonists themselves.

Divisiveness has gotten a bad name because currently only those bent on evil are willing to divide. "Prisoners should be treated like the animals they are!" People will call that a divisive statement because it is. Then comes the dreaded call for unity. Unity in this case means we unite behind savagery! Speak for yourself, pricktard. This also is a divisive statement: "Prisoners should be treated like the human beings they are!" But then you hear the previous "uniters" complain of radical statements, offending people, etc, etc. So you see, they're really full of shit when push comes to shove.

And believe you me, before we're done with this slow-motion catastrophe in the making, everyone will be forced to make a stand one way or the other. And silence will save not a soul.

Jesus told them another parable:
“The kingdom of heaven is like a liberal man who sowed good seed in his field. But while everyone was sleeping, a Trump supporter came and sowed weeds among the wheat, and went away laughing. When the wheat sprouted and formed heads, then the weeds also appeared.

“The owner’s servants came to him and said, ‘Sir, didn’t you sow good seed in your field? Where then did the weeds come from?’

“‘An enemy of the people did this,’ he replied.

“The servants asked him, ‘Do you want us to go and pull them up?’

“‘No,’ he answered, ‘because while you are pulling the weeds, you may uproot the wheat with them. Let both grow together until the harvest. At that time I will tell the harvesters: First collect the weeds and Trumptards and tie them in bundles to be burned; then gather the wheat and bring it into my barn.’”

So will it be for everyone.

I Wants Ta Shoot Me Sum Niggers

"I wants ta shoot me sum niggers." Fred then pretended to have a second thought as if he'd had a first. "Actualike, I's like to shoot me all dem niggers!"

"Sir! Sir!" A left-wing young man in a proper suit but not so proper as to be improper but proper enough to be respectable while at the same time hip enough to appeal to youthful voters while still garnering the praise of the older generation in power came running down the street in dire need of correction. "Sir, I must tell you you cannot say that word!"

"What ewe on about, boy? I can sez me any werd I wants!"

"Sir, the fate of the nation depends on it. Your politics must be correct! So please stop saying that word."

"Ya mean 'shoots'? Heck, ben saying that all me life. Ben doin' it two!"

"Oh, no, sir. I am not here to chastise gun ownership in any way nor am I here to threaten your gun rights or to take your guns or revile gun owners in a manner insensitive to your sensibilities. I'm referring to the other word you said."

"Well, heck, that all ya wants I can say 'hang'. I wants me to hang all the niggers! Fine wit me I never see 'nother live won rest of me life! You's right, kid, hanging more fun than shootin' anywayz."

"I'm sorry with the greatest of apologies and mean no disrespect to your ideology or spiritual beliefs, but I must point out you're showing an insensitivity to the heritage of slavery suffered by the segment of the population to which you are referring and the preferred term to be used is 'African-American'."

"Shit, sun, I knows them niggers is from Africa! Like you's tellin' me sumpthin."

"Sir, I'm not meaning to imply any ignorance on your part as I'm sure you're well-educated and quite sublime in your own way, but the correct phrasing is "I want to shoot some African-Americans" if we are to have civil discourse in this country of ours."

"Ewe wants me to talk like sum pansee librul! That jess ain't Americana!"

"I can say this, sir: I'm authorized to give you this genuine bottle of moonshine in a gesture of gritty pragmatism and a fearless facing of reality as it is."

"I's fresh outta moonshine! And iffen I gits it free I'll sez shit wot ewe wants anytime. So hear goes: 'I wants tuh shoots me all dem African-Americans deader then a doornail.' How's dat suit ya?"

"Thank you, sir! And God bless you! Only through polite and civil discourse can we reach common ground and resolve our differences. There's simply too much anger for things to continue the way they are."

"Tell me about it! Cant say nuttin nowadayz without crazee folks gettin' all upsets and yellin' and callin' ya names!"

"I agree, sir. The name calling must stop. It does not help a cause to point out your genocidal tendencies in an impolite manner."

"Well, good! If you's gonna get dem leftees to calm da hell down when I's talkin' 'bout shootin' folks ewe dang rite we gonna git along better. Dat way we can have dem civil talks ewe talkin' about and be rite proper and correct jess like ya sez - rite up to tha point I puts a bullit in there head!"

Teacher's Pet(ulance)

So I was invited to speak to a high school class about writing, having had my writing studied by students around the world as part of their curriculum. Of course, my words are not welcome everywhere but neither are the words of Jesus so what does that mean. Like anyone, I go where I'm accepted and shake the dust off my sandals of places I'm not.

With that in mind I began:

I walked up to the blackboard and wrote: OWN YOUR WORDS

"Only you are responsible for what you write. Don't say the teacher made you do it, or your parents, or friends, or whomever. We are each held accountable for our words regardless of why we say them." Sounds trite, I know. But I looked them in the eye with conviction so they knew something real was coming.

"Sure, your teacher gives you your final grade and there are consequences for that. But that is not the end-all and be-all. Not by a long shot. Words shape the world, they bind or destroy as we see fit. How many of you today can instantly recall words that stung so badly they made you want to kill?"

I gave a moment to let that sink in - for me. I spotted others I could see having an uncomfortable moment too - from my spoken words.

"In class, you're graded as a technician. Is your grammar correct? Sentence structure, punctuation, consistent tense and voice. Content? Not so much. Why? Because content can be a mirror and that is a place we fear to tread. But the reality should be just the opposite. Content first, rules learned later. That's how art is born."

I scanned the room for fertile minds and found a few. I could tell these few had not been spoken to in this manner before. I spoke to them telepathically. Yes, dreams are not a sin. Life is a treasure rejected by the world. Do what you want - as God intended.

"Pleasing others when you create while denying yourself is a tragedy and a waste. That's not giving. We want to see what you have to give!" Predictably uncomfortable fidgeting followed. "You want to be a hero? Be a real hero and show yourself. That's a superpower for the ages, greater than any CGI illusion, it takes real guts. Once you taste that feeling you'll never go back."

I was dividing the room, of course. I could spot those dedicated to remaining in the dark. Not that hard, recalling my own convictions on that. But every soul in that room was parched for truth, aching for honest words so rarely spoken in class. School was a jail to me and prisoners make bad students.

"Has there ever been a paper written in class studied by history? I'm not a scholar so it's possible there may be but it's certainly not in the general consciousness like, say, 'Alice In Wonderland' [had to squeeze my all time favorite book in]. Who here wouldn't like to be quoted for eternity? 'Off with their heads!' 'Down the rabbit hole.' 'Curiouser and curiouser.' 'Curiouser' is not even a word! Lewis Carroll would have flunked!"

The release of laughter was much needed at that point.

"So pass or fail as you see fit. But remember this: a moment of genius can strike anyone at any time. You don't have to be professional writer. Sometimes it helps not to be because then you're not trying. But if you don't let it out, if it never sees the light of day, the moment passes forever. If you're afraid of the grade you'll get, what your parents will say, of how your friends will react - then all I can say is that you'll make a fine politician someday."

OK, that one was over their head but I couldn't resist the inside joke.

"But if you dare to step out - if you dare to be free - then you'll be true to yourself. Love makes history. It's what we all want. Connect with your words, ask questions later. Take your moment in the sun. Corny as it sounds, it's out there waiting for everyone, whether we believe it or not."

Strelnikov's Last Moments Under The Sun (Updated)

"The private life is dead."

My pain is as blinding as the surrounding snow. I never thought such a horror possible. Never in a thousand years can I express this despair I feel. I am a statue of death.

The magic feeling was gone like a comet in the sky never to return in a lifetime. Strelnikov rigidly watched the black flaky ashes scattering on the blistering white snow of where his home once stood in the bone-chilling wind of the lonely expanse of Russian countryside. He had nowhere else to go. In the distance a farmhouse, where the best he can hope for was to receive polite silence to the inevitable hatred he received wherever he went. Powerless and on the run, a man without a planet.

It strikes me, this horror. Is this the horror I visited on others? Oh God, do not let it be! Then I am a monster. A monster without redemption. Even my death cannot atone for what I've done, the blood spilled on my angry orders. Why did anyone listen to me in the first place?

His personal life was dead - as he once so famously declared - a proud victim of the 1917 devolution called revolution. But the world never moves forward without sacrificing its love, he believed. Nothing so useless as a useful idiot! Strelnikov stood helplessly in the binding cold, the wind his only companion. It seemed to him it mattered not to his future if he wandered the entire globe or stayed exactly where he was. Had someone approached him it would only increase his isolation.

I'll die if I keep standing in this cold, immobilized by fear. I can show my face to no one now that I know what I've done. They will see I've recognized my sins and lose all fear of me. Then the family members will avenge their dead by delighting in my demise.

Three years of madness. His crusade for justice had made him unjust. He ruthlessly crushed the flower of life wherever he found it. Who can trust him now? His steel grey eyes were remorseless in their betrayal, to unhesitatingly prove the hero he was. As hero of the devolution he felt alive, injected with the energy of history. Time, he believed, was on his side. Now time had run out too soon.

My world is a lie. I gave my life to a false god. There was no revolution. Just small men killing for power's illusion, same as the entirety of history. The world is a lie.

And yet he still felt obliged to be the same man, as someone feels compelled forward walking down a hill even if it's the wrong path to follow. He looked down at the ground and wondered why his feet didn't move. Were they still his? Were he back in his train still ruling the province and being the spider controlling the web would he feel just as sad and empty? Strelnikov had gone against his true wishes, declaring them enemy of the state. What does it mean to go back to them now?

But I must ask myself: To whom is the truth denied? I shut my eyes and blamed the sky for being a lie. What kind of beast slanders the truth, shredding hope? I drank from a cup without love. How can I still have a future?

He could post a commanding proclamation in every village as before, only this time stating he regretted what he had done. But he'd be mercilessly mocked, asking who is he to strike such a statement. Strelnikov is not human, they would say. Strelnikov has no human feeling. And maybe they are right. His heart was still hard. Why proclaim otherwise even if it were the correct words to post. This confused him greatly on the right thing to do. Before, as arbiter of his own morality, he never need consider anything but himself. If only he had grasped what it would have meant to so many victims to see the great and feared Strelnikov admit his mistake even as an empty gesture.

I can't go on like this. I can't not go on like this. No way out.

Then the shot rang out.

This one I made. So much pain for all.

Aftershocks

Few years ago I was in a car wreck. Nothing medical but serious auto damage. Then, much to my consternation, I had a nervous time driving after that. How did I know it wasn't going to happen again? Didn't expect a pickup to jump the curb last time, so how can you know you're safe? No matter what I did I couldn't stop the paranoia. Eventually it faded but I remember that helpless feeling.

That feeling has returned - in spades.

What brought me to my felony charge was a completely reckless and irrational moment of self-destruction. What guarantee do I have it won't happen again? Will I become wholly delusional and think because I dodged one bullet I can dodge them all? That's the kind of shit running through my head.

I can't tell you how not fun that is and disturbing.

I almost FUBAR'd my life. Or maybe what I was trying to say with that insane act is that I already believe my life is FUBAR. Damn, the crap that goes through my mind in nonstop chatter. Been having flashbacks to the impersonal police station and the interrogation room straight out of a Turkish nightmare. I've actually been able to recall a few scenes where I rewrite with a couple of smart ass responses. That's a good sign - but only a glimmer.

One thing has occurred to me since then and now that it has I'm noticing it everywhere: it's so much easier to defend a lie than the truth. I was stumbling all over myself. But when I rewind the scene and think of selling a lie, it's like a big relief comes over me and I feel free to say anything and do it with the utmost conviction. You know, it's like practicing to be a conservative.

All these confidant liars I see on TV, I completely understand them now. I used to wonder why they speak things so patently and obviously false. It's because you feel safer doing that. And if you can sucker someone into debating your lies instead of the actual truth, you win! Such a feeling of power. No one's going to vote for some idiot stumbling through the truth. That makes you like the one guy on the police force not on the take: you just make yourself a target.

I live in fear of myself. I need something that works for me instead of always working against me - which is all I know. I have no clue how to achieve that. It's true I've led a very dishonest life and it cost me every opportunity that came along. Of course, every crime is a means of self-expression. I haven't been a legal criminal in my life - but it's certainly been a criminal life. Maybe that's what drove the irrational impulse.

"Remember the feel of the police station." That one spine shivering thought keeps me in line now. But will it fade over time? Will I write revisionist history that it wasn't so bad? I can barely even stand to listen to music. I just want to sit in the corner with my head in my hands chanting "My God!" over and over. The people I see walking around, they know nothing of my troubles. Dear God don't force me to make small talk.

Part of me is grateful this happened, this sobering contact with reality. I live too much in my head, shaping the world as I wish it to be. Those cops didn't give a solitary fuck what was in my head or my oh-so-important philosophy. Jesus! Clearly, what I did was not the answer even with all the internal and external pressures acting on me. But if I just keep on keeping on, won't I end up at the edge of the cliff again - or over it?

Night is coming and I'm afraid. I keep hearing that girl who publicly humiliated me. "Go beat your...fear," she slayed with a smile. Last time I try that. Maybe I should just get ready to die.

Felony Arrest Warrant

i suppose it's possible to feel worse. instead of the usual sinking feeling in my stomach my whole life is sinking. suicide is definitely on the menu. i can't handle being in a cage. in case anyone hasn't noticed yet, i don't trust you people.
Suddenly the news, the sports, the weather don't mean jack shit. Nothing I cared about before means anything, it all gets thrown out the window. My house is on fire and I'm in it. I finally crossed the line I'd been edging up to for all these years. idiot.
i've heard it's best to come clean when they interview you. it won't be easy but i decided to take that path. no point compounding my troubles. still, admitting to a bunch of self-righteous hypocrites what an idiot i am is bitter medicine.
"I wanted to believe there's another way out. It pushed me over the edge." I was actually realizing things as I spoke. "I wasn't making it, I was drowning. My whole life was an act. You just thought you knew me."
it's true: my ad lib lines were well rehearsed. now i'm going down. i knew the guy who arrested me for years. he never knew i harbored criminal intent. i thought...i don't know what i thought, was playing with fire.
what's there to talk about? this building, these smells, these people, they make me ill. i make me ill. was completely irrational. caught coming out my house fixing to go on the run just like i'd seen so many others get captured. i did the same dumb trite things. i'd always fed myself the line i was more clever.
i know what they do to felons in this society. people mostly hate themselves and this is their big chance to screw somebody and look down on them. no time for an attitude, though. if i find someone who extends a helping hand, you better take it, asshole. that's something new to me, letting go of my anger.
will this experience make me a better person down the line? part of me suspects yes. but that's like a light over the horizon i can't see. i'm holding on to that thought as a silver lining, that i'm not a complete fuck up. i'm not telling anyone that's in my head. don't want to contribute to the laughter. still, it seems persistently real.
but there's no hiding my shame and disgust. this is why everyone looks so shitty in their mug shots: the self-loathing. it ain't no game and my path has changed forever. who can forgive me? I can see it will have to start with me. i'm just a piece of meat to be processed. just had to do it, didn't you?

fading to black now. don't know if anyone will see me on the other side. even if i do make it out to the other side, not sure even i want to see me. how can i trust that guy? i just had to show my ass.

UPDATE: They dropped the charges. There certainly wasn't a lack of remorse on my part. They saw it in my face and my body. Maybe that played a part. I was too scared to ask too many questions why. It was just a paper crime, maybe that played a part. That and no criminal history. Maybe Jim, who arrested me, put in a good word. I'll ask another day.

I can tell you the air is sweeter the sun is cleaner. Hard to get worked up over what is now clearly bullshit that I'd obsessed over before. This boy got some housecleaning to do. I've birthed a new outlook. Being drug through the shit was actually good for me, after all. My secret optimism was right! (But yeah, I bitched a lot along the way.) Guess I needed to be taken down a notch or two. This is all I want to talk for now.

Tell Them It's Coming!

It's coming. Coming as surely as the rising dawn. Unstoppable. Inevitable. Inescapable. What's coming, is sobriety. It's simply the science of life.

Mankind's perpetual drunkenness is coming to an end. The silly games and pointless killing and delusional hopes will fall away for all time. Thank dear God Jesus. We'll wonder why we even bothered.

The relief, the inhaling of breath, the surge of life is at this point beyond our current imagination (well, yours anyway). Guns will drop from our sides as lies drop from our hearts. Volcanic hatred will be replaced by volcanic hugs. Dreams will be sung from the mountaintops. We as a world will communally scream, "At long fucking last!"

No more: "I fart three times and dance to the left and that means God loves me." No more: "It's OK to shank you in the back because we OK'd it with our voodoo rules." No more turning tears to bullets.

Be ready. Be prepared. Ready or not, love is coming. Forget about the past. Nature has had Her say.