Way of the Soul

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

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

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

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

Moses later reflected on this in a poem:

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

"Lord, won't You buy me a Mercedes Benz?"

OK, let's not kid ourselves. I've got no life. No hope of a life. I pee outdoors more than indoors. Heck, I masturbate more outdoors than indoors. My health is eroding from stress. I'm a stupid bitter, bitter man who ran away from his chances. "What the fuck have I got?" I ask myself as I watch Mr. Suit Man get out of his BMW.

Well, for one thing, I ain't him. I mean, if that's who you gotta be to drive that car, better off homeless. The fraud. See, my fraudulence kills me, his fraudulence makes him money. He thinks that makes him smart. He just can't figure out why he's so angry.

There's a theater here I go to on occasion where I have to run a gauntlet of beautiful people as it's housed in a very upscale shopping center. You've got trophy wives, self-possessed models, fashionably unshaven dudes - it's quite a scene in all those little outdoor cafes. Part of me wants to shrink away. Part of me wants to laugh.

Point is, I can't be those people. That fact has forced me to the streets. There are people who have gone from eating out of trash cans to extreme success. My decisions have not been so sage, unfortunately. And self-forgiveness is harder than you think. But I still want to be me.

What's religion got to do with God?

Holy people

Most Christians today would crucify Jesus. Heck, they do it every day. Problem is, there are no Christians, or Muslims or Satanists or agnostics even. There's just a bunch of people who have deemed themselves so. It means nothing - a soul is a soul. This much I do know: There's nothing so dangerous as a man who's deemed himself holy - for then he thinks he can do no wrong.

See, religion is great. It's thought up by men, so it's easy. You just make up a set of rules (of course, there are full scale literal wars over the rules), then you ascribe those rules to God, so...if you obey the rules, you are obeying God!! That's lots better than, say, listening to your concience. That's the "enemy" speaking to you, as I heard one speaker say. No, better to follow the rules, be a good boy or girl, and make everyone happy. Not to mention cheat yourself out of the Kingdom of Heaven.

But I gotta admit, ain't nothing as much fun as a holy war. We've been having an alleged "holy war" for our culture for years. Now it's spreading around the globe. Everyone you hate, you can attack, kill and destroy - 'cause if you're holy, then they have to be wrong. "Holy evil", it's like a drug. Hard not to keep sticking that needle of hate in your arm. Good news is, ultimately these people destroy themselves.

That "Embraced by the Light" lady said when she talked to Jesus, he could care less what her religion was. So, if Jesus doesn't care, why should you? And this is coming from me, a most religious fellow.

Fuggedaboutit! The terrorists have won.

"Daddy! Daddy! Make me safe!"

That is how we go running under the skirt of our president when terrorists attack. We are sheep and we want to feel safe. The terrorists know that. One attack and we all collapse in on ourselves. The goal is to get us to abandon our freedoms and liberties and live more like they do. And if you think you can "defeat" them by war, then truly there is no hope.

Of course, I'm not the only one who knows this. There are those in high places who think 9/11 was a godsend. Hard to imagine a more delicious opportunity to seize power. They know we are sheep. They know it's the natural inclination of people to want to trust. So "Trust us" they say - and we do. The alternative is to believe we have no one and nothing to turn to. So we stay quiet about any of Daddy's wrongdoings.

I love the Agatha Christie line: "Stupidity is the one crime that never goes unpunished." No one and nothing can make us safe. The terrorists have got us to torture ourselves and divide us with fear. There are those who like the idea of Big Brother always watching, being a bad ass who can stop all evil. Ah, the irony. Big Brother will only stop you. To not see this is to not look.

We all know what the answer is. But no one wants to mention that. Don't ever want to talk about that. The punitive aftermath to WWI sowed the seeds for WWII. Are we sowing the seeds for life now?

A private dream

I'm still in love...through space and time she is still there...it is not discussed and if pressed I would deny it...no one's business but mine...but there's still a child in me and a special place to go...a place that is the life God intended for me...I am one for whom a job is death, but had I not run from my feelings, would there have been another way?...part of me suspects yes...it's an amazing thought, that...that I would have my life and my wife, my book and my film...all that's like a place in the clouds to me...I can see it but I can't reach it...so privately, I dream...

Everyone's a patriot - to something

     While Jesus was still talking to the crowd, his mother and brothers stood outside, wanting to speak to him. Someone told him, "Your mother and brother are standing outside, wanting to speak to you."
     He replied to them, "Who is my mother and who are my brothers?" Pointing to his disciples he said, "Here are my mother and brothers. For whoever does the will of my Father in Heaven is my brother and sister and mother."
     -Matthew 12:46-50

What wasn't reported was the reply of Jesus' mother: "Well, he's the one that ordered the damn pizza." So maybe Jesus could have lightened up a bit for the Herod's Pizza delivery boy, but I guess he wasn't much of a family loyalist. I've seen that be praised: being a loyalist. Loyal to fucking what, though??

People say they are loyal to their country, their masters, their toothpaste brand, whatever. But is that loyalty just a substitute for thinking? Well, people always seem to say their loyalty is a good thing. Sometimes even a moral thing. But there's only one thing in the known universe you can be loyal to and not have it destroy you: the truth.

That was Jesus' point. If your not loyal to the truth, then you are a destroyer of the fabric that holds us together. We all know this. That's why we try so hard to spin the truth our way. Yet, there's nothing so empty as the successful liar. He knows he's not the brother of Jesus - or a patriot.

Takes one to know one

There was something out of place the minute I walked into the foyer of the grocery store. Out by the shopping carts and the free publication rack was a woman. My instincts immediately went on the alert. Her back was to me as she was scanning a Greensheet but she felt my eyes upon her. "Is she?" I wondered. "Is she one, too?" Her furtive glance caught my eyes from which she immediately averted. Then I knew. It was a response I knew well. The hiding of the shame. She was homeless, too.

I was busy filling my jug with water and I noticed how relieved I was to have one of my own near me instead of one of "them". Insiders are outsiders to us. My guard dropped for once. I wanted to walk over and say something. Tell her it was OK 'cause I was one too. Instead, I just observed her clothes and noticed the tell-tale signs. The dirt around the edges, that "worn" look, clothes once nice but now a bit tattered. She really couldn't hide it if she wanted to.

I hide well and I'm sure many times people suspect nothing of me. It's just that always being on the con is a killer - perhaps quite literally. I'm sure these stomach pains I'm having are quite serious. I beg to leave this every day.

The Ticket Incident

I didn't want to share this at first. Not too sure what - if anything - this says about me. I am an awfully preoccupied and desperate fellow. One of my favorite diversions is films. As I approached the ticket window, I noticed what an incredibly high wind there was. It seemed to be amplified by the narrow area around the windows as it whipped through. I was very concious of this as the cashier handed my change back along with my ticket and also a freaking brochure of upcoming films. I was thinking, "Damn, this is too much to gather at once in this wind." I tried to be extra careful. But as I got to the theater door, I noticed I had no ticket. I had the stupid brochure. I looked in my wallet and the cash I got back was there. Where was the ticket?? So fatefully I went back to the window and knocked on the glass.      "Did you give me a ticket?"      "Yes, there's no ticket left in here."      I felt really stupid cutting in front of the others and holding things up. "But I don't have it."      "If you got your cash back, you got the ticket."      I dug through my wallet in front of her. "It's not here."      "There's no extra ticket in here. It would be here if there was."      I had visions of it blowing away in the wind. "Well, I paid for one."      "Well, I gave you one."      I could see it disintegrating into the chicken sandwich scene in "Five Easy Pieces". Since I had no ticket and she acknowledged I gave her the money, I asked for a refund back. She then asked what I'm seeing. Confused, I thought she meant what I saw in my wallet so I answered, "I'm seeing nothing." She asked again and I caught on. She told me to tell the ticket taker I had no ticket and just go on through, which I did. Later, as I walked back outside after the film, I checked the inside pocket to my jacket and found the ticket. I was so worried about it blowing away I had put in there right away without thinking about it.

Terrorism, it's like, so hip, ya know

Terrorism comes in many forms - and it runs more rampant every day. We all know the obvious kind with insane bombing and maniacal acts. But there are other forms of terror. An attack is an attack, regardless of the tools used to implement it. A corresponding verbal warfare has been brewing as well as a physical one. Seems one can't say a ruddy thing these days without someone taking "offense"! Of course, they aren't really offended, "threatened" is a better word. And only that person can answer as to why.

Let's take an example. Suppose I go to an ice cream shop where they have two flavors: vanilla and chocolate. I say I want chocolate and this is what happens with my fellow patrons:

"Chocolate! What? Vanilla not good enough for ya?"
"I suppose now if a bloke likes vanilla he must be some sort of loser, eh?"
"Just who the hell do you think you are to diss me mates like that??"
"Yeah! Just what is it you trying to say??"

Sigh. Sometimes I feel it is forever my lot to babysit. These children masquerading as adults feel threatened by my innocent choice, as if it's some sort of rejection. Sound silly? Try this one for size. Suppose I remark on what a warm winter we are having. The response is predictable among the guilty:

"What? Never seen a sunny day in winter before? You a liar."
"He's one of dem global warming nuts! Chicken Little and all that!"
"The bastard's accusing us of mucking up the world! Who does he think he is, I'd like to know!"

See? Everybody's attacking nowadays. No one has any faith. It shows in our violence. So now I WILL make an opinion. Please, don't off yourself. The truth remains the same regardless of who wins the argument (as demonstrated by an earlier post). OK, brace yourself. Hold on tight to the stroller!

America has always had an achilles heel: rape. We rape everything. The land, ourselves, our kids - it's our national passtime. It's no coincidence we are by far the most violent western society. Heck, show a tit on TV and we're apoplectic. But show violence? Now that we do consider moral - all our violence is holy, just ask an Iraqi. But it is the law of nature: that which you abuse, you lose. Seems our plan is to one day have all the money in the world but no air to breathe or water to drink or food to eat. Get a glimpse of the future Here.

I saw a magazine proudly proclaiming we're still number one! Huh, think an article like that would have been written in the fifties, when we really were number one? It would have been like saying the sky is blue. Everyone just knew. Now we know something's wrong and we are desperately trying to convince ourselves otherwise. Good plan! So sure, we may still be driving the best car in the world, but who cares if it's headed off a cliff.

Rambling on

Funny how there's so little time. Even with time spent on money making enterprises, a homeless guy's got all the time in the world, you'd think. It's not so. I am exhausted by the efforts of survival. My thoughts are only of survival, not of marriage or shopping or whatever the average person thinks about. It's hard to explain. My whole day is just taken up this struggle. Valentine's day was a good example.

What a fucking bitch that was. I was on my knees praying for death. Maybe the whole valentine thing did get to me, I don't know. My head was split in two with a headache. I just couldn't unwind. Naturally, I thought of miss perfect Debby and her perfect goddam life and how obnoxious she would be on a day like that. I tried to use my imagination for therapy like I usually do. I imagined sending flowers to where she worked. She would assume they were from her husband and from approval-driven Debby's perspective she would love to have it be seen on how much he supposedly loved her. Then she would open the card and read something she would perceive as completely delusional like "I still love you" and see my name. What a spot she would be in then! She of the perfect life having to publicly explain flowers from a creep! Delicious. But I would feel a lot of guilt doing that so I probably wouldn't even if I could. Probably...

Back to the time thing, it's frustrating I can't just blog all the time. It's like there's x amount of energy to a day and that's what counts, not how much supposed time you have. Energy I don't have. I put a lot of effort into my posts. Most blogs are boring as hell and I hate that. The idea is to share and give something of yourself. Let me have some insight into you. It's amazing how I can be in a quiet spot sometimes and have all sorts of great ideas run through my head. But if I try to make the effort to put them down they disappear. I just wish I could remove that barrier.

The lack of energy I think comes from so much spent on concern for my future and deep depression. If I say I'm depressed, though, morons will jump on that and say, "Aha! He's homeless because he depressed!" No, moron, I'm depressed because I'm homeless. But they want to try and attack the person because, you know, the world is like perfect. They never stop to think I might be normal. I mean, take their home and car and family away from their sorry asses and see how damn happy they are. Somehow, I'm not supposed to need all those things.

I could go on rambling I guess. I always imagine someone on the other side reading all this mess and I hear what they say. It's not necessarily valid, but I hear the voice. I hear what everyone's saying. Even if you think someone is saying nothing, they are saying something. You hear about someone killing another person over a jar of peanut butter or something equally trivial. That's not why they killed them. It happened because someone's life has disintigrated to the point where that was a life and death situation. Arguments like that are not trivial, they are a cry for help. It's just that no one wants to listen. I hear you, though. I hear all you fuckers. I know all the tricks of desperation.

So in closing, the good Padre here will reiterate one of his favorite messages: Peace on the outside is determined by the peace within.

True meaning of Flower Power

"Everybody needs a place to rest
"Everybody wants to have a home
"Don’t make no difference what nobody says
"Ain’t nobody like to be alone."
Bruce Springsteen - "Hungry Heart"

Everybody wants love. "Love is the biggest issue," said Yoko Ono. ALL things lead back to love. All the wars and debates, the living and dying, the hugging and kissing - it all gets traced back to the desire for love. I read the "Final Days" about Tricky Dick Nixon. One of the major issues on whether or not he would resign was the reaction his family might have. Not politics, or the good of the country or some other bullshit, just: "Will my family still love me?". That's all decisions in a microcosm.

In clips of the sixites you see kids sticking flowers in the soldiers' guns and that's a nice statement and everything. But I found true flower power to be something else. People lie about themselves - and I know that. We are often times afraid to admit we need something we may never get. But let me tell you, there is no greater joy than finding tenderness. Torment wanes and the river of life starts to flow. You start looking to build rather than destroy. And a flower is born in Heaven.

"Love is the answer and you know that for sure,
"Love is a flower you got to let it, you got to let it grow"
John Lennon - "Mind Games"

Debby brought such a flower into my life. In the morning sun, on my drive into work, I had a vision of it. It was a solitary flower surrounded in all blackness except for a golden light shining on it. The flower too was gold, and alive. This was the flower created by me and Debby. And I started bawling because I knew it was going away.

Once tenderness has been tasted, you don't ever want to go without. Everyone tells you life's about being hard. Don't listen to them, they won't survive. Flower Power rules the earth. And when we admit that, things will be better. (But you dickless bastards can keep hugging your guns if you want)

Blogging is like...

Blogging is like flashing with your eyes closed - you're exposing yourself but you don't know if anyone sees it. There's a sense of embarrasment that creeps in. Not in my posts where I'm revealing my wounds of loneliness and rejection, surprisingly. But in my ranting and raving I notice it. Seems somehow someone with a life wouldn't be so concerned about such matters. I look at those posts and I think, "A tempest in a teapot." But it's all me. And it all needs to get out.

If you want to see me

You can. I'm in "Five Easy Pieces".

Bobby Dupea is me. In conventional terms I'm supposed to be smart, my IQ tests out in the top 2%. But intelligence is determined by the choices you make, not your genetic background - as so many choose to think. Like those in the film, I'm shattered in certain ways. And I see the world in those terms too.

The walking wounded are everywhere. Seems most of us are running from something - with some forms of running more acceptable than others. You can hide in your job, your marriage, or some other respectable institution, but hiding it is. "Five Easy Pieces" exposes all of that.

Oh, not everyone is like that, I know. There was Jill, a nurse I used to work with. She was a hero of mine. She was open on anything lacking in her life. But she was a seeker, always looking for new avenues. As part of that she started a night class in literature or some such. She told me the teacher said he never gave out A's, that no one was that deserving. So she read the paper she wrote to me to see what I thought. I told her I saw no flaws in it but then what did I know? She was so excited the next day when she showed me she was the only one to get an A.

Like Mickey Rourke said in "Diner": "If you don't have good dreams, you have nightmares." Seems dreams aren't optional after all.

The Alien perspective

I always liked the scene in "Die Hard" where the safecracker is flipping through the stack of bearer bonds, bouncing and giggling. We'uns sure does gets excited 'bout paper. Yessuh, we sure does!

But just what is this fascination with paper?

Suppose aliens were to land here. How would we explain our valuing paper? How could we explain our placing it over life itself? What would they think of us having a god made of wood?

What? Us backwards?

In some parts of the world, the aliens will see children sell their bodies for food. In other places, there's no food at any price. Where there is food, they pray to the paper god so they may keep it.

It's pretty laughable now when you read about people in the Bible making little wooden statues and praying to them to make them safe. They would bury them under their houses for protection. When the aliens show up, that's the same laugh they will use on us.

See? That's the problem with moneyism. It's just so hard to get around that First Commandment thingy.

Life Story

• Was Born
• Grew up sick
• Got thrown out into the world
• Didn't make it
  

Psycho Senator Strikes!

I was watching in Walmart's TV section (hey, don't knock it, I watched the entire Waco complex burn down there) where some psycho senator was proposing mandatory health insurance for everyone in his state. I forget his name so for right now we'll call him The Cunt. The Cunt was comparing this to mandatory car insurance, since driving is a privilege he said, not a right. And so now breathing is to be considered a privilege I suppose. Anyone caught breathing without health insurance will be shot! The Cunt said those without insurance were freeloaders. All things must appease the money god before peoples' welfare was his attitude.

Well, Cunt, how 'bout this: Every time you want to pass a law legalizing rape, we'll just tie your wife up spread-eagled in the public square with a sign saying "Freebies inside". Maybe that will wipe the smile off your smirking ass. (Or maybe not considering how morally bankrupt you are). Christ, what a cocky bastard he was. People like this are sick. What's irresponsible is not lacking money, what's irresponsible is requiring money.

The Horse Whippers

STARRING: Bob and Ted and Ed and Gordon as The Four Horsemen Special Guest star: The Meek The horses were known as the Immortals. Beings that would live forever - if taken care of. Most were not. The fallen steeds littered the land. The living scoffed at these tragic endings. "How could they be so stupid? How could they be so blind?" it was said. "What drove them to do such a thing? Did they feel no responsibility?" Of everyone in the land, the Four Horsemen had picked the best horse. It was faster, stronger and nobler than any horse alive. Some said than any horse ever. The Four Horseman were the envy of all, but they had earned their ride. "Freedom," they said. "Freedom makes a horse powerful, strong and brave." Others around them had preached control, forever reeling in the reins, choking the spirit of their rides. "One must be conservative," they claimed. "One must keep a tight rein on that what you wish to keep." They simply ignored the evidence of the fruits of freedom - and thus were forever denied them. Life for the Four Horseman was luxurious. The freedom horse did more than any ten choked horses combined. But signs of wear were beginning to show. It was the whip. With the whip they had spurred it on and now it was even said it was the whipping that had made the horse great, not freedom. Bob was the biggest whipper of all. Bob returned from a trip, the horse lathered and streaming with sweat. A Meek Man approached Bob as he dismounted. "Please, sir. Too much of the whip will kill him!" "Fool!" bellowed Bob. "I picked this horse. He's mine for the taking. And anything that CAN be taken, DESERVES to be taken." "But, sir, only so much can be taken." "Are you blind? Do you not know the law of nature? Anything you abuse, you lose. Is my horse dead?" Ted took the horse next, loading the horse so high with goods he sat five feet high in the saddle. The horse wobbled in on his return. A Meek Man approached Ted as he dismounted. "Please, sir. Too much load will kill him!" "Who are you?" taunted Ted. "These are the things we deserve. We picked the best, we get the most. One can never have too much." "But, sir, only so much can be loaded." "Are you stupid? Do you not know the law of nature? Anything you abuse, you lose. Is my horse dead?" Next was Ed, who neither whipped too much nor loaded too much, he was a man who had found The Way. A Meek Man approached Ed as he dismounted. "Please, sir. The time to change has come!" "No need for change, my friend," evangelized Ed. "Yes, I know there are signs of wear, but bear this is mind: I do what has always been done. These signs have always been there." "But, sir, signs of wear cannot be ignored forever." "Are you self-serving? Do you not know the law of nature? Anything you abuse, you lose. Is my horse dead?" When Gordon took the horse, he used no whip but simply enjoyed the free ride of the most wonderful horse in the land. A Meek Man approached Gordon as he dismounted. "Please, sir. Can you not see the error of your ways!" "No need for alarm," gloated Gordon. "The sky is not falling. You say our ways are bad but I live the good life because I am good." "But, sir, your good life will end." "Are you a fraud? Do you not know the law of nature? Anything you abuse, you lose. Is my horse dead?" The Meek Man then asked to ride the horse to a place of nourishment and replenishing water. But the Four Horseman could not stand the idea of not having their horse to use. Said Bob: "If you deserved to ride a horse, you would have a horse." Said Ted: "What a useless proposal!" Said Ed: "That is not our way - and our way has made us great." Said Gordon: "We would be laughed at for allowing such a thing. No one else does that and we are surely as good as them." They mocked the Meek Man and sent him on his way. The day came when the great horse died - and all its lesser brethren. Upon seeing this, the Maker of the Immortals wept. "Is there no one who wishes to cherish what I have made?" When the Meek Man answered yes, the Maker rejoiced and cleansed the land, making yet another Immortal. "This you shall inherit," He proclaimed. The Meek Man then led the horse to the River of Life to share the land forever. For the Meek Man knew no other way.

Kurosawa dreams

Like I've said before, most of my dreams are just replaying the events of the day, feelings that are repressed in moments of stress. Not fun. Other times, I have no idea where my dreams are coming from. Once I had dream with Bruce Springsteen in it. We were walking along, having a discussion of constructive criticism of each others' lives. I was pointing out some things I clearly saw he needed to fix. Then he did the same for me. We both knew the other spoke the truth.

I grabbed a cat nap today. And in it I had a dream that spoke the word Kurosawa to me the entire time. I'm a huge fan of Akira Kurosawa. I've seen most of his films. So in my dream I was watching a film (Kurosawa's?) in a room with at least two other people, probably more. The movie was coming to the end part (I don't remember the first) and the guy next to me started leaning over to his friend and commenting on the film. I thought he was misinterpreting it as the film was entering a surreal phase, so I pointed it out to him. It was showing a sandy mountainous scene from afar and what looked like a heard of animals. But really, it was showing the entire earth under this very clear water and the "animals" were really just a bunch of wisps in the water.

But once I realized I was looking through water, it switched to a scene of clouds high up in the sky. We were speeding through them furiously when I noticed some sort of line on the horizon. It was the clear water. It reached all the way up to the clouds. And in the water I saw a dolphin made of clouds form, jump out of the water and then back in, only to disappear again. Some other recognizable shapes also did the same but were too quick to see before they vanished. And all the time I kept thinking "Kurosawa, this is Kurosawa."

At this I got so disturbed I woke up. Kurosawa was speaking to me. Why? I'm just a bum.

Hate as a commodity in the free market

Well, well, children, how many times a day do we hear this: "I hate you bastards. I hate you sorry ass (liberals, jews, immigrants, free loaders, brats, [fill in the blank here])". You know, find something you feel you're absolutely safe you won't be accused of being, and blame those people for your woes. Hate sells. You get to be all full of bluster and righteous fury and if you do it well enough people come and slap you on the back. Maybe even elect you to office (yikes!).

So why is the richest country in the world so full of so many angry people? Easy. Because we all hate capitalism - especially as a fucking religion. We hate having money (or anything) lorded over our lives. It's eating at our soul. You can choose not to believe this. Fine with me. But, man, we're pissed about something!

Thing is, you see, I believe in the free market. I loved economist Milton Friedman's Free to Choose series (for the most part). At 17, I was a subscriber to the Wall Street Journal and an owner of Friedman's book. While you guys were busy jacking off to cheerleaders, I was reading the Journal about everything from the theory of reflexology to the World Court in The Hague (OK, I was jacking off to cheerleaders, too). Capitalism was the only way - duh! Thought I knew it all at 17.

So the free market part is perfect - just as nature intended. Problem is, there are sellers among us who will sell anything. Which brings us back to what I said before: hate sells. There are people who have recognized this and use it to their advantage. No need to be honest, just find what the folks are hungry for and feed it to them. Hitler was the best at that. It's a seductive package when you get to slander others and get applauded for it. But of course, if you want to know the truth about someone else, you gotta want to know the truth about yourself.

I ain't your goddam conscience!

What we have here is: failure to bribe. I mean, gimme a fast car, good food and wild women and, yeah, I'd probably say everything is hunky-dory - and keep it the way it is. I wouldn't care how many people are suffering because they don't have money. What the hell can I do about it?? All I know is I got mine. Go get yours. Live the American nightmare.

However, since I'm on the receiving end of this, I'm going to tell you to go fuck yourself. I hate you and I spit on you and you can't stand it. You fear my words. For you know that without your money, you too would cry out to tear all this down and build something real. But you have been bribed to shut up. By keeping quiet, we can keep all our goodies. NOT!

Jesus said, "If you bring forth what is within you, what you bring forth will save you. If you do not bring forth what is within you, what you do not bring forth will destroy you." So if this Jesus guy is right, what we're really doing is destroying ourselves - all in the name of preserving ourselves. A tad ironic, neh? Won't be getting any sympathy from me! I'll be laughing my ass off watching you bastards standing in soup lines, grumbling, saying how this shit ain't gonna work. Too late then, moron!

So the bottom line is this: Get me one of these (SS version) and I'll shut up. That way it'll be nice and quiet as we rush towards the inevitable.

A Day in the Strife

    "Oh, shit. Don't come this way."
    Three spanish guys are walking in my direction. They're smirking about something. Maybe me. Maybe some private joke. Brace up, they're getting close. One of them is eyeing me. Wonder if he's gonna say something. No...they keep passing by. Is it for real or they going to turn around? Nah, I'm ignored now. Whew.
    Everything here is all pillars and concrete. Everything else is windows they spy out from. Just walking by an office gives me the creeps. Probably does them, too. I'm going to move over by the parking garage to get away from prying eyes. Now I'll just look like a car thief.


    Time for some food anyway. At last, I can conduct some Legitimate Business. I will be Purchasing a Product. Damn, gotta cross the street first. God, I hate that. All those people in those cars will see me. Judgmental bastards. Who's gonna laugh at the homeless loser scampering across the street? Four fucking lanes to boot.
    In a strip mall parking lot now. Convenience store at the end. Fuck! Bunch of damn teenage girls giggling out front. I'm not going to be their target. The world is all cell phones and clothes and cars to them. No concept of reality. Aliens. God, I hate them. I'd pay $50 just to kiss their toes.


    Good, Momma is rounding them up, I can go in now. Now it's time for The Eyes. All eyes will be on me, The Suspect. Employees, cameras, managers behind the mirror. What will the homeless guy try to get away with? They know I'm not one of them. My stomach's a knot as I approach the counter. Am I frowning without knowing it? I always wonder about that after I leave and start relaxing again. Clerk seems friendly enough. Two fried pies and a lottery ticket. See? I'm a legitimate customer. Don't hate me.
    It's hard to find a place to hide. I went into a truck stop once. It was awesome. Had everything, even a giant TV watching room. I remember sitting and thinking, "This is great! I can kill a lot of time here." Naturally, I got spotted by some trucker. "What kind of truck do you drive?" I said nothing since the only reply I could think of was 'Tonka'. He then went off to tell me how the room was only for truckers, yadda, yadda, yadda. Knew it was all too good to be true...


    Better to find a public place - anywhere away from businesses. Parks are good. Has to be a certain type, though. Not too nice, not too rough. Just blend in and eat your food. I know where all the good places are. I have secret hotel restrooms I use for cleaning up. You have to rotate around so you don't get "known". Staying clean is a huge advantage I have over other homeless guys. That and a P O Box.
    Food's gone. Day is pretty. Warm winter is lucky for me. I love being around people. Just watching them stroll through the park, seeing all the different expressions. I live vicariously through them. I need to see people laughing and living. Makes me see it is possible. Debby...


    Stress pains returning to my stomach. Dying in slow motion is not fun. I'm jealous of the deaths I read about in the paper. "Free at last!" I cry. We're stuck here. They get to go to a place where they're not dependent on others. No more false witnesses. No artificial rules. Just rise and fall on your own merits - as it should be.
    Libraries are great. A lot of my ilk abuse them, which just makes it harder for me. I love to get lost in a book and shut out harsh reality (but, man, it hurts when it comes rushing back in). Sometimes I get the nerve up to read in a book store but that's rare. Here, I'm supposed to read. I'm quite a literate fellow. I had a temp job at a warehouse once. One of the forklift drivers had a degree in literature. We got along well - the world had no use for either of us.


    Mordor is always lurking. Its trolls in blue scour the streets. Orc punks taunt and attack us. The great Mordor nation blows black smoke into the skies and declares itself  Holy. There are few places where the great Eye cannot see. Sure wish I knew how to live out in the country like that pot guy does. Here, the Black Riders hunt you down and their idea of redemption is to make you one of them.
    The nightmares of the day replay in the nightmares of the night. Always surrounded. Always on the run. I've had dreams where my whole life is nothing but an eternal chase. Still, I need to try and rest. A cop already came by. They know about this place for sleeping. It'll be OK as long as there's no break-ins in the area. I'd be the first suspect.

The Inn of Debby

   The hotel clerk was matter-of-fact.  
   "Sorry, sir.  There's no room for you."
   "But," I protested, "there's supposed to be a spot just for me.
It's a reservation made by God."
   "Yes, I see that, but that room is occupied."
   He was so quietly efficient, so "it's-a-done-deal" about the
whole thing.  Didn't he realize I was being left out in the cold!
   "Well, who the hell is in there?"
   "A 'surfboard', sir.  A tall, blonde Swede - employed in the
banking industry I believe."
   "She gave him my spot?"  Devastation.  Humiliation.  Panic.
   "How could she do this?  Why didn't she wait for me?"  But 
clearly my words were falling on deaf ears.  I decided to circumvent 
his cold reality.  "Let me speak to Debby!"
   "Sorry, sir.  She's not speaking right now."
   "She'll speak to me, about this."
   "No, sir.  She's not speaking to anybody about anything.  She
thinks that is what's best - silence."
   His stone face was final.  My heart cracked.  I turned to leave
when the clerk called out to me.
   "Just one thing, sir.  Clearly, you are homeless.  Just how did
you plan on paying anyway?"
   I sluffed back out into the cold, reservation unkept.

Lost in the Icelands

When lost in the Icelands, Fear is your friend, for you go no place without it. You never truly rest. You may doze a little, you may nod off, but if the flame goes out, all is lost. Life in the Icelands is no life at all. The wind never stops. The cold blows day and night, forever howling in your ears. The sound alone can drive one mad. So easy to see it happen. Icy fingers grasping onto your heart, trying to squeeze out all your warmth. Where is everyone? Snowblind, I wander and call out, but there's no reply. Is no one there or do they just not speak because they see I'm blind? I came here to get away, now I can't find my way back. The shivering wakes me up again...frozen terror laying siege on my soul...oh God, please let me rest...how much longer can it last?...I ask God to make the howling wind stop...but I get no reply there either...

The art and science of arguing the Earth is flat (theory)

"Two men argue, one man wins." That's the conventional wisdom. Truth is, both men lose if both truly argue. The secret to winning arguments is NOT to argue. Today we will discuss theoretical tactics to be used in one of man's favorite pastimes: verbal masturbation (but, but, it does have meaning!)

Example argument: "Earth is flat" vs. "Earth is round".
We will be taking the side of "Earth is flat". Our opponent will be cocky since he has the truth on his side. Ah, but he has to prove it! The mere act of his doing so, though, means he's lost. Some people, alas, never figure this out. Some people will, during the course of the argument, suddenly have the light go on and think, "Why am I trying to prove this??" In which case we have lost. Others won't argue in the first place. Damn them! Join my hell!

Here are a variety of tactics:

1. Drawing Offsides:
Very commonly used. Can be used to varying degrees of effectiveness. Level one is the "Pinching" level. Two people are extremely engaged in a conversation and you pinch one on the butt. At first she ignores you until finally, "Will you stop that!" The verbal equivalent of this is name calling. Make your points but end each one with "jerk", "toad face", "fat bastard", whatever. Watch as it slowly breaks them down!

Level two ups the annoyance factor. Breaking into song works well here. Suppose your opponent's name is Bob. During some long winded point of his you start in with the Beach Boy's classic "Barbara Ann". You start with: "Bob, Bob, Bob, Bob...Bob-Bobara Ann" This gets him on two counts. First, he may take the bait of "Aha! He's got the name wrong. I need to correct him!" The second part, of course, is that it's annoying as hell when someone breaks into song during your Important Discussion. (NOTE: If not comfortable singing, a long, low series of boos will also work)

Level three can invoke violent responses so use with caution. It's the verbal equivalent of a face slap. To do this you will need to master the Daffy Duck sound or some other loud noises. If done correctly, the reactions will range anywhere from a deeply reddening face to a punch in your mouth.

2. The closed mind (intentional):
This tactic is great and, often times, is actually the case for your opponent. This allows for complete dismissal of all points. We'll use our "World is round" guy (in red) as an example:

"But I'm speaking the truth!" "Alleged truth."
"I have pictures!" "Doctored, no doubt."
"But all scientists agree!" "Nerds who can't get laid."

You get the idea. Use with glee.

Now, when your opponent is truly closed minded you cannot use this tactic. However, he is counting on you to make valid points for him to dismiss. Depriving him of that will prove highly frustrating to him.

3. The tangential diversion:
This is where you not only draw them offsides but then lead them around like a cow. If you pull this one off, you know you're in control. Take the reply to the last point up above: "Nerds who can't get laid." This may be something your opponent cannot resist commenting on. "I know scientists! And I know they get laid!" Careful here to stifle your giggling, he must not know of your hand upon his chain. How hard you yank it as it your discretion. It could be anywhere from, "Farm animals don't count" to a more subtle, "No, I don't mean with hookers."

SUMMATION:
What I've outlined here are just starting points. If you happen to know your opponent and some of his hot button issues, those can be useful for implementing tactics 1 and 3. Master all 3 tactics and you will be feared like the Godfather. The most important thing to remember, however, is DON'T LET THESE TACTICS BE USED ON YOU! Arguments are like a tug of war, the loser is the one who ends up in the mud in the middle. There are some losers, though, who will claim victory while covered in debate. Just make a mental note to yourself, "Still doesn't know I'm yanking his chain."

Just who is this Satan guy?

I hear it all the time: "It's human nature to be evil." That's why we have to appeal to people's greed to make a system work, etc. etc. Problem is, it's simply not true. It has been written that our Maker said: "Let us make man in our image, according to our likeness." So, either God's a greedy fucker like we are or...we are suppressing our true nature (boy, do people get violent when you present this point of view!). Even that Satan dude, isn't he about as evil as evil can get? But then I read he's an angel! Which means...he's just repressing too!

So logically, if God is love, which means our nature is love, then all things should be based on love...Nah, that will never work. Let's just keep repressing and see where that gets us.

More news on us scary street people

Police Identify Two South Florida Teens as Suspects in Fatal Beating of Homeless Man

FORT LAUDERDALE, Fla. Jan 15, 2006 — Two South Florida teens were involved in the beatings of three homeless men, police said, and family attorneys were negotiating their surrender.

Both teens will face murder charges in the death of one homeless man and aggravated battery charges in the beating of two others, Detective Katherine Collins said.

Brian Hooks, 18, and Thomas S. Daugherty, 17, were out of state Saturday and had not been arrested, police said.

The pair are suspects in Thursday's videotaped beating attack of Jacques Pierre, 58, on the Fort Lauderdale campus of Florida Atlantic University. The attack was captured on a security camera.

Police also named the teens in the death of Norris Gaynor, 45, who was killed a few blocks away, and in the beating of Raymond Perez, 49, in a Church-by-the-Sea garden.

Perez and Pierre were listed in fair condition Saturday at Broward General Medical Center, and doctors expected to release them in a few days.

A man at Hooks' home declined comment to reporters after police searched the home and removed a baseball bat. There was no published phone listing for Hooks or Daugherty in Fort Lauderdale.

Five will get you ten the attackers were all homeless.

And you thought I was just a whiner

I got this from another blog:

DALLAS NAMED MEANEST CITY IN TEXAS...FOR HOMELESS PEOPLE By Trey Garrison

Dallas is the “Meanest City” in all of Texas -- and the sixth meanest in the nation when you throw in cities from the Other 49 -- for homeless folks, according to the National Coalition for the Homeless in a study published today.

In a report oddly titled “A Dream Denied: The Criminalization of Homelessness in U.S. Cities” – begging the question of whether anyone’s dream really is to be homeless – Dallas is knocked for ticketing panhandlers, outlawing the taking of shopping carts from store grounds, and the current proposal to ticket people who give to panhandlers.

Leaving aside broader philosophical arguments over civil liberties, police priorities, and the seemingly random battles that Mayor Laura Miller chooses to cling to – who wants their hometown known as “Most Welcoming to Scary Street People?”

The full report can be found here and the page on Dallas can be found here.

Laura Miller is lucky they haven't made being an asshole a crime.

The original (and best) satirist

After Moses and Jesus, the person I would most like to meet in the Bible is Elijah, the original mocker. How delicious it would be to have him come back to Earth - invulnerable - and bring his satirical wit to bear on these, our modern times. There would be no stopping him - just much gnashing of teeth. Here he is at work:

"I am the only one of the Lord's prophet's left, Baal has four hundred and fifty prophets. Get two bulls for us. Let them choose one for themselves, and let them cut it into pieces and put it on the wood but not set fire to it. I will prepare the other bull and put it on the wood and not set fire to it. Then you call on the name of your god, and I will call on the name of the Lord. The god who answers by fire - he is God."

Then all the people said, "What you say is good."

Elijah said to the prophets of Baal, "Choose one of the bulls and prepare it first, since there are so many of you. Call on the name of your god but do not light the fire." So they took the bull given them and prepared it.

Then they called on the name of Baal from morning till noon. "O Baal, answer us!" they shouted. But there was no reponse; no one answered. And they danced around the alter they had made.

At noon, Elijah began to taunt them. "Shout louder!" he said. "Surely he is a god! Perhaps he is in deep thought, or busy, or traveling. Maybe he is sleeping and must be awakened." So they shouted louder and slashed themselves with swords and spears, as was their custom, until their blood flowed. Midday passed, and they continued their frantic prophesying until the time for the evening sacrifice. But there was no response, no one answered, no one paid attention.

At the time of the sacrifice, the prophet Elijah prayed: "O Lord, let it be known today that you are God and I am your servant and have done all these things at your command. Answer me, O Lord, answer me, so these people will know that you, O Lord, are God, and that you are turning their hearts back again."

Then the fire of the Lord fell and burned up the sacrifice, the wood, the stones and the soil, and also licked up the water in the trench.

When all the people saw this, they fell prostrate and cried, "The Lord - he is God! The Lord - he is God!"

Then Elijah commanded them, "Seize the prophets of Baal. Don't let anyone get away!" They seized them, and Elijah had them brought to Kishon Valley and slaughtered there.

Now THAT'S funny! "Shout louder, dude, maybe he's asleep!" And they fall for it! Wonder if we have any people like that around today?

The Debby Factor

"Look around you, look up here
Take time to make time
Make time to be there
Look around, be a part
Feel for the winter
But don't have a cold heart"

I heard these lyrics going in to pick up my free weekly paper. It's a Debby song, reminding me of the time she was in my life. I keep thinking I'll become immune, but I choked up once again on hearing it. Fifteen years and it hasn't been a day. Time stopped for me when she left. Trite, perhaps, but true. Perhaps I would be in a different place today had I dealt with her better. Certainly less guilt.

"You're lying and you can't help it."
-Debby, to me

Who was she? There's a scene in Bonny and Clyde where Clyde tells Bonny her life story right after they met. Some people know each other before they meet. I always knew there was this "other" out there. And when I met her, she was everything I dreamed of. Just perfect. It was like I was living a dream. And though I never took my clothes off in front of her, she is the only person to see me naked.

"Life is love."
-Me to her

The foundations of my life were shaken. Things I had buried since childhood were coming back out. I turned suicidal realizing for the first time just how far away I was from being ready for the one I need. But meeting her also forced me into new paths. I started writing for the first time - in large part as therapy. My art began to grow. But still, I ran away from my personal life until finally I ended up...here.

"A love song
It was there all the time"

Thank you, Debby. You were a dream. (And an asshole)

From Hell’s heart, I stab at thee...

I'm dying and nothing can stop it - not God in Heaven. Watching yourself die engenders a lot of anger. So I'm going to spit on as many of you fuckers as I possibly can before I go. These writings here are my last few scratches against the world. It will change nothing. Nothing can change the world. Jesus literally sweated blood the day before his execution. We are fucked because we fucked Jesus. Living like savages at each other throats, calling ourselves civilized so we won't have to change. Good job. I made a joke today about living to see 2007. It was no joke. Why tell the truth to those who cannot help. The WORST people are the ones who think they can. They are blind and make things even worse. I'm missing you Debby Hanssen. I just can't seem to cry enough tears

The existential meaning of the Terminator

"That Terminator is out there. It can't be bargained with. It can't be reasoned with. It doesn't feel pity, or remorse, or fear. And it absolutely will not stop - EVER - until you are dead."

SOUNDS LIKE A METAPHORIC DESCRIPTION OF CAPITALISM TO ME.

I'M A HAPPY-GO-LUCKY GUY.
GOT THE RENT?

"What we've got here is a total lack of respect for the law."

Trapper John (to MP): "We don't blame you."
Hawkeye (to same MP): "You're only doing your job."

You know, if I were a cop and I saw a homeless guy, I'd probably harass him too. I mean, that's how I'd pay my rent, doing shit like that. On the other hand, if I were a homeless guy and I saw an unattended cop car, I'd probably pee on the door handles. So I did. (To find your own cop car, here's a hint: Dallas cops love BBQ).

Beautiful Places, Beautiful Faces

It's the charade I hate, the pretence of being "normal". Oh yes, I have a job, a family, a career, a nice house and a car. Those are things I feel I have to say in all the "normal" places.


I fear the restaurant. Fast food, convenience stores - those places are my friends. But even with a little money and being cleaned up, I fear the restaurant. It's like they have a fraud detector in there. "You're not one of us. What are you doing here?" Big appliance stores give me that same feeling, too.


Nature is my truest friend, a place unthreatened by man. No need for lies. Only the laws of God, not of men. I need people, though. I'm not a loner. I just play one on the streets.


And this, well, hard to believe it even happens on the same planet I'm on.

Auschwitz in my head

lies...all a stupid desperate lie...why am i trying...they all know...homeless loser freak...they CAN'T know...they'll get me...cold marching machines...no way out...nowhere to turn...faceless walls...terror...insanity...it's over...music is dead...they're looking at you...please let it end...no more lying...never good enough...never touching...cripple...they don't want me...if they find me they'll kill me...no one says my name...i cease to exist...help me...the world is all dark

The Trans Am Brat

There was time when I held a temp job as a "tape monkey", as I called it. All these Fortune 500 companies use mainframe computers that back up their data onto tapes, each one about the size of a VCR tape. A company can easily have tens of thousands of tapes in its library and since several companies usually share the same facility the overall library can be upwards of a million tapes. These facilities work 24/7 and the tape monkeys feed in the tapes to the machines and then file them back at the end of the shift.

The tapes are dusty and the facility is cold to keep the computers from overheating. And there's LOTS of walking. Not the greatest of jobs but I've done worse. And while there were console operators there that actually had real jobs, all us tape monkeys worked through a temp agency. Each of us arrived through a different road. I remember that young, black girl working there while pregnant (!) and the long-haired, red-headed rock and roll guy. There was also the Drunk.

The Drunk, whom I liked a lot, had had a rough go. He told me stories of blacking out, getting in his car naked and driving around only to be hauled in by the cops. This happened more than once and he lost his license. He was in the process of trying to rebuild his life. Naturally, seeing a man with shattered nerves, I had to torture him. I would often take empty tape cases and drop them right behind where he was standing. They make a THUNDEROUS noise when they hit the elevated computer floor and I would walk away laughing as he cursed me. Yeah, I'm shattered, too.

(OK, so I picked the Bandit version)
One night as I walked through the parking lot into the building, I noticed a shiny new Trans Am. I like fast cars, I want fast cars and I thought, "Fuck, wonder who that belongs to?" Hard to make payments for a car like that on 8 bucks an hour. Turns out there was a new temp in town: the Trans Am Brat. He had mommy and daddy supporting him to ensure he maintained the lifestyle he deserved. OK, I thought, whatever. But there was trouble a-brewing!

The Drunk hated the Brat - and vice versa. Although they never technically said, "Fuck you" to each other, it always sounded like that's what they were saying. The Drunk resented the Brat's free ride and the Brat bristled at the idea he was getting anything he didn't deserve. Finally, it erupted into a big showdown. All us tape monkeys were sitting in the control room with the console operator during a slow period. The Drunk and the Brat were having it out.

I said nothing as I watched the argument. I was secretly rooting for the Drunk but the Brat had no clue on anything so I knew it was hopeless to try and make any point to him. The Brat was defiantly making his case, though, and finally he addressed us all. He told us of how he and his friends would meet at a coffee shop and discuss current issues. "I live on a completey different plane than you people!" he declared. At this, I put on my best honest-to-gosh face and said: "Wow, you live on a plane??"


I was getting ready to burst out laughing when I noticed his Gollum-like eyes just staring at me. I thought, "Surely, he's not buying this." But the Brat just kept staring so I decided to hold my expression and see what happened. Finally, he declared triumphantly, "See! This is what I'm talking about!" and resumed his argument.

Ron, the console operator there, just about fell onto the floor laughing. I don't know if anyone else caught on but he sure did. The Brat never did. I'm sure at his little psuedo-Algonquin round table that night, he and his buddies were laughing at me for my remark. "How could anyone be so dumb?? How could anyone be so clueless??" Hear! Hear! How often it is people think they are talking about others when really they speak only of themselves (heck, half this blog is me railing against my own conservatism).

They burn money don't they?

The logic is irrefutable:

CROWD:

A witch! A witch! A witch! A witch! We've found a witch! A witch! A witch! A witch! A witch! We've got a witch! A witch! A witch! Burn her! Burn her! Burn her! We've found a witch! We've found a witch! A witch! A witch! A witch!

VILLAGER #1:

We have found a witch. May we burn her?

BEDEVERE:

Quiet! Quiet! Quiet! Quiet! There are ways of telling whether she is a witch.

VILLAGER #1:

Are there?

VILLAGER #2:

Ah?

VILLAGER #1:

What are they?

CROWD:

Tell us! Tell us!...

BEDEVERE:

Tell me. What do you do with witches?

VILLAGER #2:

Burn!

VILLAGER #1:

Burn!

CROWD:

Burn! Burn them up! Burn!...

BEDEVERE:

And what do you burn apart from witches?

VILLAGER #1:

More witches!

VILLAGER #3:

Shh!

VILLAGER #2:

Wood!

BEDEVERE:

So, why do witches burn?

[pause]

VILLAGER #3:

B--... 'cause they're made of... wood?

BEDEVERE:

Good! Heh heh.

CROWD:

Oh, yeah. Oh.

BEDEVERE:

So, how do we tell whether she is made of wood?

VILLAGER #1:

Build a bridge out of her.

BEDEVERE:

Ah, but can you not also make bridges out of stone?

VILLAGER #1:

Oh, yeah.

RANDOM:

Oh, yeah. True. Uhh...

BEDEVERE:

Does wood sink in water?

VILLAGER #1:

No. No.

VILLAGER #2:

No, it floats! It floats!

VILLAGER #1:

Throw her into the pond!

CROWD:

The pond! Throw her into the pond!

BEDEVERE:

What also floats in water?

VILLAGER #1:

Bread!

VILLAGER #2:

Apples!

VILLAGER #3:

Uh, very small rocks!

VILLAGER #3:

Uh, churches! Churches!

VILLAGER #2:

Lead! Lead!

ARTHUR:

A duck!

CROWD:

Oooh.

BEDEVERE:

Exactly. So, logically...

VILLAGER #1:

If... she... weighs... the same as a duck,... she's made of wood.

BEDEVERE:

And therefore?

VILLAGER #2:

A witch!

VILLAGER #1:

A witch!

CROWD:

A witch! A witch!...

So why don't  we burn people to death anymore?? You could say it's because it's against the law, but then, so is murder and that happens every day. The Good Book says "Everything is permissible - but not everything is constructive." (1 Corinthians 10:23). So you see, there's nothing really stopping us. And there was a time when we thought it absolutely necessary.

The reason, of course, is because we know better. Same thing will happen with money. We will wonder why we ever let it rule our lives. "What were they thinking??" But now we say, "We've GOT to have money. There IS NO OTHER WAY! Without it nothing will work!" But we speak of money as we should of love. Eventually, though, it will go the way of witch burning - just too dumb a concept to continue. And in the future they will be writing satirical skits about us...

Doctor:
   A baby is born!
Mother:
   Yes, our baby!
Father:
   A baby boy!
Doctor:
   But the baby has no money!
Mother:
   Bad baby!
Father:
    Worthless baby!
All:
   Get money, baby, or you'll just have to die!

Homeless bastard wins lottery!

So...what would happen if Mr. Ich Bin Ein Berliner here won the lottery, if I got my own Get Out of Hell Free card? Would all crusades cease? Or, in the immortal words of Hans Gruber, would he be content to merely be "sitting on the beach earning 20%"? Fuck yeah!

It would happen like this:

1. Declare myself Shogun of Texas.
2. Head to the Maserati dealership.
3. Print up 25 shirts saying, "Fuck you, I'm rich".
4. Buy at least five places to live.
5. Spend a year on Thunder Island.
6. Build a Japanese castle.
7. List my occupation as Dreamer on tax form.
8. Massive funding for prisoner rights.
9. Hate myself for losing Debby.
   
10. Still be homeless...
    

I met a man with a joint today

I and my fellow brethren shared his doobage and talked in the afternoon sun. Sitting on the grass (no pun intended) we spoke of the world and life and dreams. He was well spoken and had clear thoughts. He wasn't out to change the world. It was just that he couldn't breathe in this society. Normally he stayed in more rural spots, the better to keep away from everyone, but he comes into the city on occasion for a pot run. In some ways he was even more dedicated than I am - a man true to his spirit. When the Bible speaks of a time when the last will be first, I believe he will be near the head of the line. A nice, friendly afternoon. Thanks.

Free speech for morons too

I got this from an alleged "conservative" blog (as we know from a previous posting there is no such thing as a conservative) :

I feel that Americans need to have the experience of suffering, so that they can have a greater understanding of the world.

Wow, isn't that the same thing terrorists say? (or is she just a bleeding heart conservative?)

OK, lady, gimme your address and I'll come over with a baseball bat to enlighten your ass. First I'll smash up all your precious possessions, then I'll knock you around a bit just to make sure you see the light. Because, yeah, there just aint enough suffering in this world. Think of it as a bout of conservative compassion. Moron.

See, there are two types of people in the world: those who believe in helping people and those who believe in hurting people. Of course, perverts like the person above will say they are helping you by hurting you. Please, spare me that kind of "help".

Happy New Year?

Woke up in the alley with a boner this morning. God I hate that. I can't let my thoughts turn to wanting a life. It's just too painful. Every day I have to pass people on the street with lives of their own, living in a completely different world than mine. I live in their shadow world. To have a life like theirs is inconceivable to me. And yet, I still cry out for it.

A cop came by and asked me some questions right after I woke up. He didn't make me leave (shocking) but when he came back later he seemed really pissed I was still there. I scurried away and back into the "normal" people. I can't take this anymore. If 2006 is my last year that's OK. I'm just too tired. And God wants me dead anyway.