There is no more maligned group on the planet than those who believe this. The overwhelming majority either believe the truth has no value or is their enemy. That's how the liars have ascended to power. That's the proof we live in a godless world. They think that by betraying the truth, i.e. God, they can save themselves - religion by any other name.
So when the Liar-In-Chief, aka the Most Evil Man In America, goes on trial, our allegiance to the truth will also be put on trial. Many of us can't wait to actually cheer a liar who gets away with kidnapping, rape, and murder. I don't want any of those happening to me. Seems some people want that to happen to them - or at least they vote for it anyway. And somehow they think that makes them clever. You "win" - huh, losers?
But if we think the truth has value, if we face the fact truth is the only way forward, if we really believe truth is God, then we must fight with all our hearts to defend the truth. So we are going to find out if we are who we claim we are. This isn't one person's trial, but a nation's. And if we squander this opportunity, there will be hell to pay. Laugh now, cry later. Betray yourself at your own risk.
"The love you take "is equal to "the cash you make."
The nightmares are closing in like... I'm trapped, unable to go neither forward nor backward. I go through the motions of pretending I have a future to keep out the monstrous meddler-killers. I was choking in an Amazon warehouse, surrounded only by talking droids that give the illusion of companionship. The one time I saw a human is when someone came up to criticize my work. How can I break the news to them? I just can't make myself care.
Then I was back in the rundown trailer park in Florida. More monsters of poverty ruling over me, threatening my animals' welfare, driving me to murderous outrage. No one can leave well enough alone. I surely didn't with Emily.
I have a secret I can tell no one. For I can tell them and they still won't know: I am unable to make money. See? I knew you would deny it. Our belief system is based on a lie. That's why we want liars to win. We think it makes us safe. My, what a hurtling ball of fire we are, burning up in the atmosphere, getting ever hotter from the friction.
Fine time to forget the key.
As for me, I am unable to make love (not a euphemism). Had I put love out into the world perhaps the world would have supported me back. But I hate this world and want it to die. But I have no interest in saving only myself. Nobody wins unless we all win. That's the lesson we're going to learn - one way or the other.
Losing with Emily was fatal. With her friendship, I could have made the step to love. But I assumed her friendship an impossibility - then made it so. I feel Kafka must have done something similar in his failures to communicate.
As for you, dear world, if you knew the future you are making you'd reverse your behavior in a heartbeat without hesitation or doubt. You've assumed what the truth is without facing it - and that's 100% fatal 100% of the time. Closing your eyes and hoping is certain suicide. Thanks for dragging everyone else down with you. Your mandates will be doubly used against you and there will be nothing you can do to prevent it.
She drove into the elementary school parking lot and shut off the engine of her small black car. Times like this were the most exciting moments of her life. She was about to step onstage trembling in both fear and anticipation. Nervously, she looked around if anyone was watching as she unbuckled her seat belt. Part of her just wanted to sit there forever in an unbuckled state, absorbing the moment between offstage and on, a twilight time where she floated to the savior clouds.
With a deep sigh, the time in the floating world at an end, she eagerly opened the car door to join the stream of people heading inside. Only once a year did she get the Big Chance to express herself. She noticed the reassuring official banner above the entrance way: "PRECINCT 12 VOTING". This was her time in the sun complete with society's stamp of approval. But even with the yearly buildup of anticipation, watching endless hours of discussion on TV and even in person, the hoped for feeling of final satisfaction never arrives - even when her candidate wins.
"This time will be different," she whispered like Charlie Brown lining up to kick Lucy's football.
She checked off the names she duly researched and vetted, those who would surely save her. And having done her duty she got to the real reason she rushed there, the last question on the ballot, the one that truly meant something to her: "Do you want a husband?" She selected "Yes" but wished there was a "Hell Yes!" to show how she truly felt. On her exit back out of the building she always felt a bit embarrassed, flushed with the excitement of the day, and hoping to meet a fellow comrade with whom to hold a shared discussion.
Today, she did not, disappointing her pounding heart. She settled back into her car, sitting and staring ahead, almost as if she were waiting for the red sea to part before her. She'd done the right thing, good things should happen to her - miracles even. The other 364 days of the year she was hamstrung, imprisoned in a cell of silent impotence, her voice heard only by the TV. Only on this day can change be made. Everyone agreed on that.
She made a point of congratulating herself on the feared drive home back to the letdown of her empty house. She opened the door to the awaiting neatness and perfectly placed decor. But her family heart cries out for more. She needs to give and to share. She'd done what she could to manifest her private dreams, the state secrets she kept hidden lest anyone find out she wasn't living the life she truly wanted. Without her dreams, life is nothing but a series of endless chores.
Her best friend, Baileys, called out to her from its black bottle. She tried to resist - the scar of the years ago DWI never healed - but rationalized a reward for herself. She drank to the edge of tipsyness while watching the talking heads on TV discuss voter turnout percentages and other painfully boring minutiae. The hangover of frustration always ambushed her after voting. If everyone agreed with her she'd be fine - and the world would be fine - because by default her unmet husband would agree with her valued vote too.
She sipped her truth serum while lamenting the same old refrain: "The opposition is keeping me from happiness!" Then she heard the sound of the mailbox lid closing and this excited her like a child getting a gift. That surprised her as she was expecting nothing out of the ordinary.
But she decided to follow her instincts and check outside. Perhaps her vote was already paying off! All the self-help books assured her she deserved a good man and a good life and all her dreams to come true. So many years she'd been waiting! Why is it so very hard to be with someone? What's the secret formula? To shatter the glass ceiling of love was all she wanted. To hell with everything else.
"I want to live," she whispered, "I want to live."
Sorting through the large amount of mail - the bills, the pleas from charity, the advertising inserts - she found a postcard. Alone among the received items, these inscribed letters were human; handwritten. This must be it! She focused to read the single line of the message:
"Please, give yourself a chance."
Dreams turned to nightmares. It was from him, The Interloper Who Must Not Be Named. How dare he contact her! Not even a chance at the football for you, Charlie Brown.
"No! Never, never!" she declared with furrowed brow, ripping it to pieces. Walking back to the living room after having properly disposed of the infuriating card in the kitchen trash, she abruptly stopped, unable to sit, but rather standing idly in untouched isolation, slamming shut the jail door, not open to honest debate, choosing the safety of aloneness.
Follow the money. It's a foolproof plan in a money-mad world. But it's a sword that cuts both ways. I can put a dollar bill on a string and slide it down the sidewalk and watch all you fools chase after the god that owns you. People talk high and mighty of many things but their morality is based on their money worship. "God is good!" they declare when their wallets are full. But, boy howdy, do they be bitter when that wallet is empty!
The pursuit of money has various strains, one of which is outright theft. The best thieves use a pen for their thievery but there are still those who prefer good old hard cash. But having said cash presents problems of its own. Especially when that cash is hot and you're waiting for the statute of limitations to run out. And people know you have that cash. People who make it their job to take that cash from you - and have all the resources of the government at their disposal.
Long story short, I didn't steal the cash but it did come into my possession. And it was up to me and me alone to figure out how to hide it from limitless search warrants that can look into the most private of places. Anything can be tracked nowadays. Suppose I Google searched on how to hide money. Cops would be all over that. I thought of going to a hotel lobby and use their public computer for a search but even that didn't feel safe. Giving them hard evidence of any sort would only fuel the chase.
Cops all over my ass!
I couldn't make friends and acquaintances complicit after the fact so there was no one to consult with. So what does one do with half a million (and change) when it can't be deposited? My apartment and car were clearly out of the question. Despite what you see in movies, burying cash is a very bad idea as it will rot over time and I had years to wait. Options were disappearing quickly!
I stewed on it for hours, feeling the walls closing in and getting more paranoid by the minute. I even thought of giving it away to charity just to be rid of the burden. I just knew I didn't want the busybody cops to have it or the crooked banks. I got in my car and drove around aimlessly, hoping to be inspired, and if not then a homeless shelter was going to be mighty happy.
"Well, fuck, if I show up there with that kind of cash they'll be suspicious and "do the right thing" and hand it over to the cops. Shit!"
Defeat was here. Defeat was there. Defeat was everywhere. If was going to find an answer, I had to get it from within. Then, as if in answer to my prayer, I passed by this building and the pieces started falling into place.
Not the storage unit you're looking for
How long before the cops knew I had the cash and not the actual robbers? Days, weeks, hours? Goddam money owned me too with the misery it was causing. But I remembered the miseries it could solve as well. Had to make a calculated risk on the time I had before surveillance began. Wrapping my phone in foil, I drove out to implement my plan - a plan in which I planned to get caught.
Two weeks is what it took before the cops came to search my car and apartment. They made a big show of it, clearly hoping to rattle me. I told them in a huff I was going to Facetime my attorney and contact the ACLU. Naturally they laughed that off, no doubt thinking they were halfway home to recovering the loot. People always believe you when you act stupid. And the cops had to think themselves clever at having figured out I ended up with the cash. Process of elimination really.
About an hour after they left, I got in my car and headed to an abandoned building in Fort Worth. I got out of the car and slid through a gap in the chain link fence I'd previously spotted. I walked around kicking items out of place, rummaging through debris, then hurried back to my car. And just to be sure, I left a tiny camera up near the ceiling. That provided for hilarious viewing!
When I retrieved the disk the next day I saw the cops tearing the building apart for hours, digging in filth and trash, so sure they would find the cash! Instead they found neatly typed computer generated notes saying, "Fuck you!". That did not go over well with the feds! I'd waved a red flag in front of the angry bull and I knew I'd moved up on the target list. But we all know how an angry fighter can punch himself out.
Rope-a-dope ain't just for boxing
As expected from scouring my records, they found the day my cell phone was cut off from the grid. They checked safety deposit boxes and all the usual places of stashing a large amount of cash. And sure enough they found the U-Haul rental unit in my name. So easy with online records! They got another warrant - and I got a phone call from the facility - but once again they came up empty - except for the "Fuck you!" poster I left hanging on the back wall. I heard they still tried to search it though God knows where it could have been in that hollow container.
Cops like game players. They're sure that through our showing off we'll make a mistake and they'll get the last laugh. So it had to be very painful as they raided the U-Haul for a second time after they found out I came back and paid a year's rent in full. Why the fuck do that unless I had something to hide, right? I must be thinking myself a Jedi to hide the cash in a place that had already been searched! Only difference on this raid was I'd added "Again" to the bottom of my "Fuck You" poster.
All these useless warrants they keep requesting! Really puts the popo in a spot. Could move the loot in there at any time! I felt like after the second raid they must have placed some sort of surveillance device as there were no more raids even after repeated and obvious visits by me. They had to be pulling their hair out!
Since the day I rented the storage unit was the same day my cell signal was cut off, that just had to be the place! Must have been why they combed the entire facility so thoroughly. But that wasn't the only place I went that day. Just the most obvious. Next up was the place I had a friend rent. A one horse operation without any online tracking. Took 'em another two weeks to raid that. The usual sign greeted them when they opened the empty unit. They probably traced my friend's cell locations. The final place, of course, would be the hardest to find.
That took a month as they had to manually fan out from the radius of my apartment and canvas every single storage unit. Must have been a pain in the ass and taken tons of manpower! You can guess what sign greeted them when they lifted the orange door. For this one, I had another motion detector camera set up. Their reaction was as I'd scripted.
"I know what's going on here," said the agent with a look of dawning understanding. "This guy wants us spinning our wheels going through every storage unit in DFW. We've got storage units on the brain! He wants us chasing our tails because he's got it tucked safely away somewhere else. This has been nothing but a giant distraction, a cheap Jedi mind trick. Forget this ruse. We're tearing his life down again from top to bottom. There's always a mistake. There's always something that can't be hidden. And we're going to find it."
He was certainly right about parts of that. How does one cover up an action when it almost certainly can be discovered with enough determination? A Jedi mind trick, of course! The loot really was hidden in that last unit. I just had to convince them somehow not to fully search it. On the day I deposited the money I sent gift cards to the Dallas FBI office. Don't know how many of them still worked there that worked on my case so many years ago. I did write "Fuck you" on the gift cards, though.
I no longer live among my people. I cannot afford to be recognized - even by myself. The familiar hills and streams of my youth are forbidden to me. Faces that once greeted me with a smile are gone forever. I've become a stranger to my samurai soul. It's as if I woke up from a dream to find my waking life a nightmare.
In My Time Of Certainty I made decisions of life and death never doubting them in my hallowed clarity. What is this curse that deceives the mind so completely that the more wrong we are the greater our conviction? This bewitching will be the downfall of Mankind. It certainly brought the downfall of me.
I hear scarce tales of my province, morsels of hope I dare not consume. My lust to rule the land blew me like a tumbleweed down a path of inevitable destruction. First my father, then my brother - dead by my command. Our conspiracy to rule the clan was a success. Winning is its own justification in a bent world, we believed. Those were heady days. There was an anger to all that we did.
That was twenty odd years ago but every day is the same for me now. The Shogun has united us and the nation has moved on from the warring era. I am but one remnant, one of many fools left to litter the land in our failed and myopic bids to seize power. I murdered for nothing. As my castle burned by the hand of Toyotomi's army, I retreated into the forest donning a scarf around my head, never looking back. I drift from village to village as an unredeemable sot who spends every last yen on warm sake. But my life remains cold.
Then it all came crashing down
I'm not to be trusted to make decisions. I work for the farmers in safe day labor. I look up at the sun as it arcs in the sky, praying it does not betray me, praying it does not bear witness on my past. They say I lack energy but it's the weight of the light that drags me down. To whom can I reveal my horrors? Had I done these dastardly deeds and become Shogun, would anyone care of my murders? Would I care? Our murderous Shogun seems unperturbed.
I'll never know. All I know is that the image of the rising smoke from behind the mountain as my imperial dreams disappeared in a forlorn cloud is forever branded on my brain. I'm a laughingstock to the gods. I realize the anger that brought me to this hellish place must be eschewed at all costs. Maybe then I can serve a purpose. But, oh, how they would run from me if they knew the brotherly blood on my hands. At the time, I said to myself, "There is no other way."
I'm not the only clan leader who committed familial crimes. The whole country was mad in those wide open times of lawlessness. Is freedom a sin if it only unleashes violence? Are we a better country in the iron grip of the Shogun? Yes, that grip has stalled our civil war that lasted a hundred years but is that the same as serving justice? Does my fleeing from decisions make me an honest person? Perhaps there is no escape from this.
Hardest battle of all
Who am I to give advice? If I came clean no one would listen to such an obvious fool. But I still cling to a sliver of morality however irrational even if based on others' ignorance. The farmer I work for is in dispute with his neighbor. I kept my mouth shut until I could hold my tongue no longer. I told him he had to be hard and ruthless in this world. "Do you want to survive or not?" I could feel the old fever as I was speaking to him. But were my words merely embers of my old rage?
It's myself I seek to escape. Once having lusted after the throne my spirit cries out for more. But I feel chained to my mistakes of the past, doomed to repeat them in helpless servitude. There must be some step I need to make. I've heard the farmer speak of how peasants like him were caught in the hellish crossfire between clan warlords and the tragedies that ensued. I have to admit during that time I never gave that a second thought. Would they lynch me if I came clean now? Could I blame them?
I till the farmer's soil. The earth is good in its blind benevolence to even the worst of sinners. I am defeated. In way, as self-serving as this may sound, I'm glad I did not win. I see so much of myself in the arrogant and corrupt rulers who lord over us. I have been spared that fate - and I cannot join the shogunate even if solicited to do so. I'm a part of no world, discarded refuse floating through universe. Is there a life left for me to find? Would I have the courage to face it? The courage of war is of no use in times of life.
It is May 1941. Taking a roundabout way to America with his country at war, Ian Fleming spends the night at the Palacio Hotel in Estoril, Portugal. After dinner Ian took to the casino for some high stakes gambling as had been his wont in pre-war times. In a lucky ride of events, he's able to walk away a handsome winner and is glad to have such a pleasant diversion before continuing his journey to the truly high stakes of his role in engaging America in the war effort. "Look here, Godfrey, a tidy sum we can blow when we get to America."
It is May 1941. Taking a roundabout way to America with his country at war, Ian Fleming spends the night at the Palacio Hotel in Estoril, Portugal. After dinner Ian took to the casino for some routine gambling as had been his wont in pre-war times. In a forgettable ride of events, he's able to walk away even but is unperturbed to have a not particularly memorable diversion before continuing his journey to the high stakes of his role in engaging America in the war effort. When asked how he did at the tables, Ian replied in a noncommittal manner, "Comme ci, comme ca."
It is May 1941. Taking a roundabout way to America with his country at war, Ian Fleming spends the night at the Palacio Hotel in Estoril, Portugal. After dinner Ian took to the casino for some low stakes gambling as had been his wont in pre-war times. In a stinging turn of events, he walks away a loser and is morose having had such a drab and uneventful evening before continuing his journey to the high stakes of his role in engaging America in the war effort. When leaving the tables he's driven to cheer himself up. "What if my fellow gamblers had been German secret agents, and suppose we had cleaned them out of their money; now that would have been exciting."
Fleming's horror of boredom drove him to find inspiration, so that his monetary loss became a win in life. His imagined scene of secret agents is later recreated in the first Bond novel "Casino Royale" where the enemy spy Le Chiffre is outwitted at the baccarat table. Ian's weakness for the pointlessness of gambling was made whole through turning to belief. He did not settle for chastising himself for the wasted time, nor meaninglessly beseech "God forgive me" as he handed away his cash, nor did he resort to bitterness, but rather to believing in himself even after having faltered. Art, from failure.
“My grace is sufficient for you, for My strength is made perfect in weakness.”
What a joke you are. All your grandstanding pretensions, your phony indignation, your political consternation, your comic book saviors, your pseudo wars, your breathless campaigns, your secrets already known, your binding contracts, your fictional borders, your exalted vampires, your well-heeled freaks, your profitless investments, your discarded dreams, your daily crucifixions, your smirking cynicism, your treasured lies, your suicide entertainment, your dogma of death, your brokered betrayals, your fallen friends, your technological terrors, your silent sex, your futile chains, your dogs of bore, your brokenhearted billions - all these things mean nothing.
If the world truly gave a shit we wouldn't be mired in the degenerating whirlpool of despair as we drown in the tears of our children. And we certainly aren't as clever as we think we are, not realizing that the only deception is self-deception, i.e. we ain't foolin' nobody. Your religion is in your wallet, your drug is in your denial, your hope is in your "clever" betrayals. This is what I hear most of all: that the man who said, "By their fruits ye shall know them" is a liar. Is that so?
Let's all die together then and blame it on those who refuse to join in. And the bitter fruits we both lionize and despise will only get more bitter over time until finally we choke on them, unable to eat them yet starving without. This is not God doing it to us. This is us doing it to us. We say we know best. We have bet our lives - our souls - on that. I thought I knew best too - and lost everything. I see what I see, like everyone.
Steve
My wife works with a lady whose husband holds a few college degrees. One is an MD and another is a PhD in the sciences. He has knowledge of the environment and has studied the climate change theories. His research has revealed that all this climate and environment talk about catastrophic change is Bee Ess, piles of it! Along with the other researchers with whom he worked, they concluded that the globe is in no danger from man, but the Earth will undergo change as normal cycles continue. If I remember, I believe his wife added he found all the current climate hysteria hilarious.
glenn
I wonder who is paying HER? This glowbull warming scam is getting very profitable!
See this stuff below.......guess what! It never happened!
1. Within a few years "children just aren't going to know what snow is." Snowfall will be "a very rare and exciting event." Dr. David Viner, senior research scientist at
the climatic research unit (CRU) of the University of East Anglia, March 20, 2000.
2. "[By] 1995, the greenhouse effect would be desolating the heartlands of North America and Eurasia with horrific drought, causing crop failures and food riots…[By 1996]
The Platte River of Nebraska would be dry, while a continent-wide black blizzard of prairie topsoil will stop traffic on interstates, strip paint from houses and shut
down computers." Michael Oppenheimer, published in "Dead Heat," St. Martin's Press, 1990.
3. "Arctic specialist Bernt Balchen says a general warming trend over the North Pole is melting the polar ice cap and may produce an ice-free Arctic Ocean by the year 2000.
" Christian Science Monitor, June 8, 1972.
4. "We're actually projecting this year that the North Pole may be free of ice for the first time," Dr. David Barber of Manitoba University , 2008.
5. "By the year 2000 the United Kingdom will be simply a small group of impoverished islands, inhabited by some 70 million hungry people ... If I were a gambler, I would
take even money that England will not exist in the year 2000." Paul Ehrlich, Speech at British Institute For Biology, September 1971.
6. "In ten years all important animal life in the sea will be extinct. Large areas of coastline will have to be evacuated because of the stench of dead fish." Ehrlich,
speech during Earth Day, 1970.
Stag
“The state must declare the child to be the most precious treasure of the people. As long as the government is perceived as working for the benefit of the children, the people will happily endure almost any curtailment of liberty and almost any deprivation.”
― Adolf Hîtler, Mein Kampf
Oricle
"When Greta started striking, it gave permission to other students all around the world to go on protest as well," It wasn't "permission" it was an "excuse"
Steve
Isn’t this great. We now have a 14 YEAR OLD climate change “expert”.
Carbon Dioxide
All these kids do is make noise. NONE of them have any real solutions that work. Saying "Do something" is not a plan. What they want most likely would send the world into a great depression. Fossil fuel is as important to the global economy as blood is to your body. So much of the modern world is dependent on fossil fuels. Even if you drive an electric car and have solar panels, you still are dependent on fossil fuels for everything you buy at the store. For the roads you drive on ect. Want to know the difference between the 16th century and 21st century? The difference is because of the existence of electricity and fossil fuels.
Penn
I have a 14 year old sister. This time of year she’s in school.
j h
Don't this children have school and stuff? The media has pushed these kids into a panic over the "climate". Kids listen, everything will be fine. The weather now will be the same as it will be when your are 75... and long after you and your great great great grandchildren will be buried. Go have a life, have fun...jeesh in 10 years you'll have to go to work everyday and worry about real issues like paying your rent.
Brian
I am so thankful to have grown up in a time where teenage girls were interested in teenage boys and no one was trying to force us to believe in fairly tales like climate change or more than two genders. This new, triggered protest generation will never realize what happiness is because they are always looking for the next minuscule thing to be upset about.
Eric
skipping every Friday to protest ..she should be required to repeat 7th grade
*****
I'd tell you to go fuck yourselves, but you already have. Just whom are these saviors of truth trying to convince? Our Maker? These beacons of enlightenment are going to save the whales? "Consciousness of guilt" isn't just a legal phrase anymore. That's the problem with living in a perverted world: the more we think we're winning the more committed to losing we become.
I saw your face and that’s the last I’ve seen of my heart.
He said, "It's as if I've known you my whole life."
She said, "It's as if we're meeting again from a past life."
"This is a dream come true. Life is magic!"
"It's so wonderful I don't need to explain myself around you. It's liberating!"
"The claws of the world have dropped from my heart. We walk in the clouds."
"You're the one that I want. I finally feel like a whole person."
"I'd take care of you forever and ever, until the end of time."
"Our love is eternal, a living thing beyond ourselves. To this we shall be devoted."
"Truly - I am truly loved."
"And I too am truly loved. Thank you - and now, let us say forever goodbye."
"Ah, yes. Goodbye, and as Byron said:
Fare thee well! and if for ever - Still for ever, fare the well - Even though unforgiving, never 'Gainst thee shall me heart rebel.
"Love it! What a beautiful betrayal we've wrought!"
******
So I asked him what happened to his never-again-seen true love.
"Shit, man. Grow up. Ain't no one supposed to be that damn happy. Would have never worked out, why bother? That's just the way life is."
That didn't make much sense to me but what do I know? He told me he needed her, couldn't live without her, and was in his "own private hell" being separated from her. So who knows? Maybe love and soulmates and all that romantic stuff really is just an illusion we feed ourselves to have a seeming reason to live. He made me feel stupid for believing.
Then three years later he's on the news, tying up traffic for miles as he threatens to jump off the top of one of our towering overpasses here in Dallas. Suddenly everything made sense again. Even after having found it, he'd told me he didn't deserve heaven. He didn't realize the only alternative to heaven is rotting in hell. There's no therapy for losing your soulmate. There's just an inescapable, gnawing, agonizing, soul-crushing void.
Moses was relentless and unyielding in his stance, lording over me as he pointed to the holy mountain. I resisted.
"My turn? What do you mean my turn?"
Moses was relentless and unyielding in his stance as he pointed to the holy mountain.
"I can't go there! God loves you, not me."
Moses was relentless and unyielding in his stance as he pointed to the holy mountain.
"Go up there and do what? I'd just be wasting everyone's time."
Moses was relentless and unyielding in his stance as he pointed to the holy mountain.
"What if God gets pissed off and takes it out on everyone down here. Wouldn't want me to go up there then!"
Moses was relentless and unyielding in his stance as he pointed to the holy mountain.
"This is nuts! Look, I supported you. When everyone else was building that useless golden calf, I still believed in you. Doesn't that count for anything? It was you I voted for."
Moses put his hands on his hips. "Good. Now go up there and vote for yourself."
*****
Dude toasted his dude friend.
"Congratulations on your marriage, dude!"
"Thanks, dude. About damn time, huh?"
"I'll say. So where you headed off to in such a hurry?"
"Trump rally."
"I thought you hated that guy! You said he's a force for evil in this world."
"Yeah, I know."
"You called him a murderer and a rapist and kidnapper stealing babies from their mother's arms."
"Yeah, I know."
"You said anyone who supports him has to be either insane or insanely ignorant."
"Yeah, I know."
"If you know all that then why the hell you going?"
"The wife. See, there's something else I know too."
"What could that possibly be to contradict everything you've already said??"
He's what the locals call "Miami mean", with a duly vetted motto: "Living better means being better." He had to think that. He had nothing else to point to.
During the day interacting with wage slaves, monetary sycophants, prissy pretenders, jealous juveniles, gold dust women, body bitches, political priests, watchful pickpockets, opinion-less store owners, tongue-biting salesmen, and those so unaware they deem awareness itself to be their fatal enemy, he tolerated these creatures in a cloud of rude arrogance. Sharing the sun with them was a burden he must endure to maintain his life of unrequited guilt, rage his only pursuit left.
"Fuck you, I deserve this."
For every Ferrari, every fine dining meal, every day spent yachting, every single thing that kept the yawning world at bay, he justified with anger. Angry at having been born on a dying planet, angry at the easily seen falseness he as able to view from his high perch, angry at never leading the life he wished to lead. Having virtually limitless money was like trying to dig his way out of a hole whose walls crumble at every touch, an endless series vain clawings and scratchings leading nowhere. Sometimes he envied the lesser man whose sole objective was to buy a home and having done so, could declare victory.
"Yes, I deserve this lifestyle, but..."
He never dare finish the sentence. The idea of an honest living didn't seem possible to him. With his billions he was supposed to be "free." He could be as honest as he chose. He could make a movie, or write a novel, or paint the days away. Instead, he chose the safety of his inner cell.
"Honesty can take you anywhere - even the poor house."
The fuel for his rage was his fondness for fraudulence. What he'd found most interesting was he was not alone. The club of the super-rich and the famous hid an underbelly of perversion and deceit, other decaying souls also lost without their funding. Sex parties, slavery, driving servants to suicide - all in a day's work. This was their way of crying out for help - not that they'd ever take it. These beings take their wages in duplicity.
"They want me to die."
His contempt for his fellow man was based on the universal struggle for the money god. He could ask for love, but who'd love a fraud? So everybody's in on his destruction, taking what they can along the way. Why give them any regard? Why care about any of them? Without his cash, they'd leave him to die in a ditch in a heartbeat. Keeping this lie alive would grind his teeth at night into painful sores, stealing elusive rest.
"I must have been born without a purpose."
A purposeless man is free to pursue his lifestyle above all else. What else has he to do? No purpose equals no responsibility. He saw those who took pride in their work knowing that could never be him. To try to do something "real" would truly expose him as a fraud! His stunted existence perpetuated the need for him to drive himself deeper into his debauchery.
"Where is she now?"
He drove away his one chance for love. It never failed to flabbergast him how his illusion of wealth allowed so many people to think he could be happy alone. They imagined him with a different beautiful woman every night, a carefree playboy living the dream. Like all anger, part of it was based on fear. Fear that one day everyone would stop and point at the loser, a man without love. These were the thoughts that consumed him in his locked and secure penthouse.
"I don't know what to do. I was right to betray her."
Oh, God, how he had wanted to believe, to step into the Light at last and rejoice in a reborn life. She believed in him and that belief triggered his greatest rage of all: it meant he's wasting his life. He cheated on her every chance he got, "proving" his unworthiness, sacrificing his love so "she can be free to get a better man." All it did was make them both hate his guts.
"Now what?"
He climbed onto the bench by the outside wall of his penthouse. Engaging in his favorite activity whenever he felt down, he urinated on the unsuspecting masses below. What they get for trusting such an obvious asshole as him with an exalted position. With secrets like these he had to hide "where the sun don't shine." Maybe it was time to stop trying. Maybe he had finally hollowed himself out to be the purposeless creature he always professed to be. Then he could die without apologies.
Forget the legal arguments. Forget the political arguments. Forget all the BS and think of this in the only terms that count: human terms. Nature gave us a brain to use so let's use it. We don't need to look to the sky or to the dead or old parchment to determine right from wrong. We can each judge that for ourselves right here and now. We know inhumanity when we witness it. And we know it's always a crime. So let's recognize it as such - in ourselves as well as others - if we are to preserve any chance we have of a future.
The truth is not as confined by the rules of Man. It stands on its own marching to its inevitable revelation regardless of polling or popular opinion or the whims and desires of the masses. Only by standing with the truth can one stand at the end. Everyone else will be dead. For though we all desire life, we all will not choose it. And on the sick and twisted path until that final time, we will slander and rape the truth as if that would save us. But only love can save us.
So let's drop the charade and write the true articles of impeachment of not only Donald Judas Trump, but any who support treachery and treason, murder and mayhem, libel and lasciviousness, death and despair. No soul can profit from these things even in our darkest deceiving. Crimes against humanity cannot escape punishment. We fail to resolve them at our own peril. With great sorrow we must list our crimes, renounce them, and embrace the gifts we daily reject. In so doing, we shall drink from the endless stream of dreams and thirsteth nevermore.
ARTICLE 1: MURDER
The agonizing and unnecessary deaths of Puerto Ricans after Hurricane Maria
To argue against these articles is to argue against oneself. I would encourage everyone, school children and adults alike, to engage in the exercise of writing their own articles. Let us face the full gravity of the situation. For those who argue against themselves, let your child be raped or kidnapped. Let you be forced into drinking toxic water. May your family be betrayed to military death squads. May firemen show up to your home and use "alternative facts" to determine your house is not on fire as you listen to the death screams inside.
Like our good, our evil will come back to haunt us, as one of the monster's supporters has already found out:
