"MORON" On My Forehead, The Exciting Conclusion

Refurbished JetBlue terminal from the 60's was awesome!

The longer I walk around with "MORON" on my forehead, the more convinced I am the world is insane. You really don't see a problem with this? Reactions range from Oh-you've-got-something-stuck-in-your-teeth to Oh-I-see-this-every-day. I mean, really? Just how fucked up is this planet. Is everyone a freak too? Dear Lord!

Such were my reflections sitting in my comfy JetBlue seat, watching a Nash Bridges episode on mute. No one on the airplane or at the airport really cared what I looked like just so long as I didn't make much noise - unlike the traveling girls choir six rows ahead of me. After passing through the stunning terminal, I shyly hailed a cab and someone actually stopped for me. The cabbie asked me if I planned on having the letters tattooed on my forehead and that set the tone for the city. I told him that was my plan only if I planned on driving a cab for a living.

OK, so I blew my cover right off. I promised myself to stay in my role as a moron later. How is everyone going to know I'm a moron if I don't act like one! The truth will out!

I had reserved a penthouse at the Shoreham, a small boutique hotel on 55th, not too far from Jimmy Choo's. In New York, the only thing they see is green so my forehead was a bribable eccentricity. I remembered reading how New Yorkers' coolness was better than any five bodyguards John Lennon could have hired. I understood that remark now. You're on your own here, pal.

View west on 55th from my penthouse

The plan was to head to Jimmy's right away but I was famished from the flight so I stopped at Nello's on Madison Avenue for a bite. A young Italian girl was my waitress and I'm not sure she'd been doing it for very long - probably why she got stuck with me. I had the special of the day: Ravioli stuffed with crab meat and covered in lobster sauce. The meal was delicious but unfortunately I couldn't help myself from thinking how many 7-11 corndogs I could buy for that 50 bucks. I tipped the girl another 50 bucks in true New York extravagance along with duly impressing her with my knowledge of the exact number of aluminum cans to takes to cash out 50 dollars.

As I exited back to the street I heard her say, "What a moron!". That's when I knew my plan would work.

I was upon Jimmy Choo's before I knew it and suddenly I questioned the wisdom of my plan - I hated the whole idea of it. My nerves told me something big was about to happen. Fuck it...I have to do this. The world must know I'm a moron!

The store was very small and yet it had it's very own doorman. His eyes immediately zeroed in on my forehead, the first real acknowledgement of it since the cab driver. But this was a look I hadn't seen before. His mouth was silent but his eyes were screaming - almost a look of discovery. Eh, whatever, don't have the time.

Then I saw the cause for my nerves outside the door: I was prey for a mini-skirted cougar. My instincts pounded as she purred her way over to me. My sweaty palms knew as I saw her lips part she wasn't going to ask me my thoughts on a geopolitical solution to the Middle East crisis.

Oh yeah, I'll take a pair of those!
Shoes are nice too.

"My, my - aren't you something?" she asked more to herself than to me, circling around.

"Yes?" I hoped was the correct answer.

"Boy, could I do something with you. How about I make you my live-in maid? You can serve me and friends in between fucking your brains out. I got twin 17 year old daughters that will tear you up and put your bitch ass to work too. After a couple of years I'll get tired of you and throw you out on the street high and dry. How does that sound?" I quivered helplessly as she ran her finger from the bottom of my neck to under my chin.

"Can't do live-in! I've got my cat to take care of."

"My pussy needs taking care of too." She moved her hand down to my crotch and felt a different answer than what I replied. Cougar lady had a total understanding me, she knew my prison. I stood revealed at last. But I also knew what I could and couldn't live with. Family first.

Stiffly, I turned to exit the shop and thought of nothing but clearing my forehead once and for all. The doorman opened the door for me only now he had this shit-eating grin on his face. What's up with this dude? Oh wait, I knew that grin - it was that of a Cheshire Cat.

Actual store. Say hello to the doorman for me.

I was still flustered as I got on the elevator to the Shoreham's penthouse and this hot chick gets on there with me. She's dressed to kill and her eyes twinkled mischievously, yet somehow her gum chewing distracted from all that. I'm thinking: Do I really want to analyze this? I was in no mood for shit.

Her eyes go up and down, checking me out, then: "What happened? Lose a bet?"

"No. I don't mind riding in the elevator with you."

"Oh, smart guy, huh?" She was expecting easy prey and failed to appreciate my non-easiness.

"Uh, no - moron." And I pointed to my forehead.

Time to put me in my place. "You are a moron! What kind of weirdo puts 'Moron' on his forehead? You need help, dude."

"Who said I put it on there?"

That made her snort. "Well, whoever did it knew what they were talking about. Who was it anyway, your girlfriend?"

"No, it was some chick on an elevator." And I smiled a moron smile.

"Look, dude, don't talk to me anymore, OK?"

I was saved by the elevator bell as the doors opened and she departed. I decided on one last attempt at friendliness. "Hey, how 'bout a hand job later?"

She strutted away voicelessly, never looking back, but replied with the universally understood solitary finger. Life was back to normal.

After a rest, I headed to the Shoreham lobby for a final meal before my return flight. I sat at my table relatively anonymously, blithely watching other anonymous passersby. I wondered if I was the most ridiculous man in New York City at that moment. It sure felt that way. Disturbing images from Midnight Cowboy trailered through my mind. Am I just another Texas hick walking the streets of a world he does not understand?

He's got 'Moron' written on him too

Time spent on this odyssey has been a kaleidoscope of insanity. Maybe I thought my own insanity would protect me from the world's. Fuck, I don't know what I was thinking...Wonder where that poor bastard behind the counter lives? Can he afford Manhattan on his salary? Wonder where all the workers live. Do they commute in from the Bronx just to serve the other half? Same shit wherever you go...And that doorman from Jimmy Choo's, that still gets to me. Was it simply that he was just a huge cat lover? Or had he really understood me? Perhaps that was Morty. What a pleasant thought to think Morty was still alive! - beckoning me back to the Land Of Sir Real. The reality of that dream excites my soul once more...

Jesus! The mysterious thoughts that go through your head when eating alone in a strange city. I forced myself to snap out of it knowing I would scrub my forehead before the return flight. Frankly, I had forgotten about it with the urban nonchalance of the Manhattan mid-towners. Red flags shot up though, as two males gathered noisily at the table behind me. How could the mere act of sitting grate on my nerves?

At this point, I had to believe my mind was a mushroom, putting the world in a dream state. The two who settled in spoke with no shame at the loudness of their voices or the content of their words.

"Looks at this! I can't wait to cut mine off!"

"Me either! The sooner it's gone the better!"

No, Harry, don't do it. Don't be some teenage boy making the oh-so-obvious response. Heck, they could be talking about anything. Maybe they wanted to cut off their alimony payments. You don't always to give in to the impulse of derision. But deep down inside, I really wanted to.

The pair kept talking and damned if it didn't really sound like they wanted to cut off their male members! I knew the reality had to be I was projecting my own immaturity, but finally my curiousity got the best me.

Oh, dear Lord! I whipped my spying eyes back around. That was a "Transgendering For Dummies" book! I'm sitting next to two guys who want to cut their dicks off! No wonder I don't get any reaction with my lame-o magic marker forehead.

And another thing. Those guys looked oddly familiar. I have to sneak another peek.

No! Can't be! It's Zerry and Zhomas! 500 hotels in this city and they gotta pick this one? Get me outta here!

But I didn't get two feet before I was busted. The boys pounced out of their chairs, grinning with self-satisfaction and pointing at me in mock superiority. "Neener-neener! Neener-neener! We're better than you are! We're better than you are!" Then I swear to God they started channeling 1980's Valley Girls. "Like ohmygod! I'm like so totally going to put that on the cover. Barf me out, that is so loserville. We're going to like totally make fun of your grody ass. It's our favorite thing!"

------------

It was a week later as I strolled the lonely, nighttime streets of Dallas...


"Who am I?"

As a small child, to walk down the alley and beyond the four houses to the end of the block was a mythical journey off the edge of the earth to enter a new land. I was a pioneer walking in uncharted territory. I knew not what I may find - but it could be anything! I craved to seek out life, hungry with curiosity and wide-eyed desire. I knew life. In my many lifetimes I've witnessed miracles the small-minded have yet to even conceive. But it mattered not to me I may be alone in my glorious trek. I'd show them what's what.

Now I live among the mad, the futile, the empty vessels. We define ourselves as chemical entities needing chemical solutions. Yet who considers the chemistry of a hug? There is no true science without love. Love is the only reality. That is proven every day as repressing our love buries us deeper and deeper. And as I ask myself how I got to be the bitter man I am today from the eager child of yore, I know it's from my own self-betrayal.

Somehow, I don't think that gets my name in the Book of Life. I'm tired and ready to leave this bent world forever pushing a square peg into a round hole. I tried confessing my crimes but to no avail. Truth is the first step on the road to salvation. And while a teetering planet may be blind, deaf and dumb, my Maker surely knows the truth of me. So I tried to get the truth out. I just don't know what to do anymore...

"I tried to tell them!" I screamed to the twinkling stars. "I told them the error of my ways and the insanity of my life. Why can I not be free? What in the hell am I supposed to tell them I am??"

From the clear night sky, an understanding voice replied: "Beautiful."

Then I found time for my tears.

____________________________________

Don Henley - Boys Of Summer

"MORON" On My Forehead, Part 1

Vanity's death trap
Proud man crawls low on his knees,
Romancing the truth.

It's 3 AM and I'm clutching the Gordian knot in my stomach. Merciless jackhammers twist my back, pounding the length of my spine. I slowly unclench my grinding teeth but the invisible hand that squeezes me and crushes me into a human ball of pain knowingly ignores the efforts of my futile will.

Pretense of the day breeds demons in the night. My liar's prison boxes me in without pity, never falling for my artful deceit. If you are the smartest man alive and you are a deceiver, who then can see through your deception? The whole point of deception to get caught so a caring world may then tend to and understand your dilemma.

But I guess at the end of the night, we're all a party of one.

But what kind of idiot gets himself in this position? Friendless, fuckless and fundless is no way to go through life. I do so understand the thought process that says seppuku brings honor. My biggest problem is my tears. I just don't have time for them all. I'm tired of talking to people through a cardboard box as if that's a normal state of being. I need to confess. My aching neck demands I confess.

So I woke up in the morning determined to undeceive the world and with a bold, black marker I proclaimed "MORON" on my forehead. How else can one describe he who creates his own misery? But now everyone will know of my crimes, I'll be able to drop my facade and the keys to freedom from my liar's prison will be mine at last.

Oh, the company I keep!

First place I went was the grocery store. I walked down the aisles receiving many an amused stare but...no words. No exploding revelations of, "Aha! Now we see you're a fraud! The illusion has been ripped from our eyes!" I had been dreading that moment going in but the longer I went without it happening the more I yearned for it - the more I needed it.

The cashier. The cashier would save me! Direct, human contact is what the doctor ordered.

But she was a young girl, polite in her ways. I read her struggle so clearly. Should I tell him? I dare not embarrass a customer. Should I say what I see? Mentally, I screamed back to her. I already know it's there! You can't hurt my feelings! Jesus, say something!

"Thank you, sir. You saved 3.25 on today's purchases."

No, I refuse to be trapped forever. I found a couple of teenage girls in the parking lot. I know they will say something. I asked them directions to a street I already knew but their giggling overcame any words. The more I talked, the more they giggled. They're still giggling now as far as I know.

What to do, what to do? Sinking feelings festered in my stomach. I was just about to duck into my cardboard box when a gruff voice called out.

"Hey moron! Come over here!"

As an anthropologist I knew the voice well: the Insecure Male Ape, perpetually desperate to feel superior. Freedom, however, was not the feeling it gave me, but fury. And once the first ape started yelping, the apes around him joined in with tribal glee, knowing their place in this world. I stayed inside my box - in every sense of the word.

If you want to prove evolution to me,
first you'll have to prove we've evolved.

Clearly, breaking the chains of my lying was going to be harder than I thought. Girls were useless and apes were clueless as well. I needs me a full grown woman who speaks her mind! I decided on a lingerie store. Ain't no shy cashiers there - and I'd pull out all the stops. I'd be branded a moron there for sure and never have to pretend again.

When I heard the question, "OK, what is your size?" I was a bit stunned. I read her eyes and she hid not the fact her reading of my forehead when I entered, but she insisted an treating me as if I were normal. Ok, fine, I'll up the ante. I asked for women's underwear. "Make it a thong." "Actually it's for me." And that's when her nonplussed ass asked my size just as if she were asking the time of day.

I was in a pickle now. How the fuck would I know my size in women's underwear? My immediate reaction was to point out the illogic of her question in her assuming I would know that but then I wouldn't be acting like a moron and she'd call me a fraud! Damn this is complicated! I ran out the door to hide my disgust.

I heard he got a Pulitzer for the sign

I'm a moron. I tell people I'm a moron - but they still don't know. Amazing. Just fucking damn amazing. I'm in trouble here, folks. You don't see me screaming at 3 AM. I thought my problem was the hiding of my imbecility. I try confessing but it's like speaking to a deaf, dumb and blind planet. You people have friends, funds and fucking - there's no goddam way in hell you can be as fucked up as I am. The whole world can't be aching to eat a bullet, can it?

I sighed on these musings as I stared at the roof of my cardboard dwelling with hands clasped behind my head. There's a comfort factor here. The winos, the creeps, the losers, the self-talkers - none of them bother me. There's no judging among us, we birds of a feather. But my dilemma was this: How could I ever bring a person of respect here? How could I even ask it? How could I even want it?

Part of me suspected I was chasing the end of the rainbow, part of me suspected I was a quitter. I decided to give it one last chance. This time I would pick the ultimate stage, a place to ensure my outing beyond all doubt: the Jimmy Choo store on Fifth Avenue in Manhattan. I cashed in all 430,000+ cans I'd been saving up for a rainy day and booked my flight for a date to live in infamy.

Take The Money And - "MothaFucka!"

Get me outta here!

At last! At very, very long last I was on the road to freedom. It had been a lifetime in coming - and how sweet it was! The angst of the world was no longer mine to carry. From now on, my decisions would be my own, the idiots of the world had lost their say. Look in the sky! That's the sun I see! I've never had this feeling before: a day that belongs to me. Amazing and exhilarating. Parts of me long given up for dead were alive with optimistic energy. A new word entered my vocabulary: "possibilities".

Everything felt good. My hands on the steering wheel. The vibrations of traveling down the highway. Hell, nothing could feel bad at this moment. I had possibilities! At least, I did until I heard the news on the radio.

Harry Homeless is wanted for possession of cocaine. He is illegal, immoral and a destroyer of society. He is the enemy of all living persons. He has no known redeeming qualities. We have this quote from Officer Officer: "Find him! Kill him! He'll ruin it for everybody! Get that bastard before it's too late!"

"MothaFucka!"

They went on to describe my car in exact detail, me in exact detail and even the last known direction I was traveling. But how?? I retraced my steps since The Most Wonderful Moment Of My Life. Stashed many floors up in an old abandoned building I found a tire stuffed with $700,000 in cash. It was from a crime where the statute of limitations had run out so the money was free and clear. But still I knew: Mundo Nulla Fides - trust no one, have no faith in the world. So I told not a soul of my find.

Here's where I dumped the tire -
just in case somebody had it marked

I snipped the bands off the money - a possible means of identification - made sure no transponders or gimmicks were afoot, then transferred it all to a large lawn and leaf bag in the trunk of my car. This was one time where my secret life paid off, allowing me to do this with no eyes upon me. But on the radio the cops said they had tested the money, found traces of cocaine on it - which all money tests positive for - and thusly declared me in possession of cocaine. They said I had been dealing crack to 12-year-old girls. And that was a more comforting thought to the mindless masses than the idea of lying cops.

All my life I've made bad decisions. It's a disease, a habit, a known quantity, an old enemy - it's all I've known. There's nothing I fear more than a Good Decision - I don't know what would happen. But I do feel like God will zap me from the heavens with a lightening bolt if I make one. Death, it seems, comes regardless of my decisions. My head used to be able to at least hold the idea of a Good Decision - I could conceive of a sunny day - but before that day I found the money, the light had gone out from even the crack under the door to the outside world.

So I deduced the bonanza I found was reparations from God for a lifetime of suffering, living at the mercy of animals who declare themselves civil even as they cut your throat out. I swore I would make good this time, make only decisions that were smart and - shock, shock - in my own fucking best interests for once. No more trying to apply my life to fixing the world. No more allowing my crucifixion to prove the unholiness of the world. No more living for others. Time to claim my inheritance.

Always a piece missing

So what had I missed? Since the time my bad decisions started, I knew I'd be missing out on "real" life. And this Missing Element grew and grew, leaving me with the broken mind I have today, helpless and pathetic. But how did the cops know everything? Over and over and over I went through every possibility in my mind. No misstep had been made - not even the possibility of a false move existed. And yet still they knew everything!! It was that goddam Missing Element. I don't know how or where or when, but because I didn't know the Missing Element, I was fucked yet again.

I'd always been careful not to fight the law. In my mental rolodex, it's listed under the tab of Fatal Mistakes. I pulled over on the deserted highway - a treasured back road - and waited for the inevitable. The police had been smart giving the luntic lynchers a witch to burn. I could hear the Pitchfork Puritans in my head as I slumped down in my seat. "I have a daughter! He wants her strung out on drugs! I'll show you what a good father I am! I'll stab you to death!" My capture would be a heckuva day for law enforcement: an evil drug dealer taken off the streets, the world beats its chest in righteousness and most important of all (in reality): the cops get their hands on the money.

No way out. I was trapped. No way would the cops come clean at this point, in fact, they'd be more vicious just to prove the point of the "truth" they alleged. It meant the doom of their souls but I didn't hold out much hope for that argument. Life drained out of me as I stared at the now ugly steering wheel which just a few short minutes ago had been my guide to freedom. I peered through the windshield but the sky was no longer mine, the sun long gone. Some birds were singing in a clump of trees down the road. The last free sounds I'd ever hear.

Got a home now, Harry!

I heard but did not listen. The angry screeching tires, the hysterical lying voices laced with fear of discovery, the closed-minded judge who knew the facts before he knew, and the jury of my peers who sat with comfortably closed eyes who had only one word to say on their behalf: "Guilty". I remained silent knowing the truth was there for anyone who cared to see - but none thought it profitable. So now I spend my life on a hard metal bed, staring into the infinite abyss. And that's when it finally hit me - as I gave up all hope of anything and just let go - I finally saw the Missing Element.

"The Most Wonderful Moment Of My Life" should not have been when I found the money. It should have been when I found love.

"Mothafucka!" echoed my cell.

Cowboys Stadium: A Temple For Our Times

It is said that a sign of a civilization in decline is an excessive obsession with sports and entertainment (remember the Coliseum? And whatever happened to that invincible Roman empire?). This is because as one pulls the plug on reality, the greater the need for distractions from the sinking ship. Heckuva plan, that!

But not only must the temple be built, but all pathways to it need to be lined with gold to accord it the proper respect. Below is the brand spanking new Center Street Bridge to cross over the River Styx I-30 corridor and lead you to the house of worship.

[Note: click on photos for more detail]


As we arrive on the bridge, we can see the great place of worship in the distance.


But as we look to the left, we see the construction workers have miles to go before they sleep:


In Japan, they built this pathway to lead to their temple:


In Arlington, they built this:


We reach the great temple at last! If you'll notice, you can see right through to the other side. Giant, sliding glass doors bookend the east and west sides. The permanent fence is not in place yet.


Giant buttresses spew out of either end, unlike any other stadium in the world. To the left you can see the giant video screen outside the stadium, a tailgater's dream!


I walked around to the other side. You couldn't get there by car. Notice the glow from within? The sides are translucent.


This is Johnson Creek which has been an eyesore for years. It runs just east of the stadium and is being reconstructed and landscaped as part of the project.


Click on the picture and you can see the "holy of holies": the largest video screen in the country. One reporter who took a tour of the facility described the four-sided video screen's size as that of a "small ocean liner".


I snuck in for a close up of the buttresses:




However, directly across the street from the great temple are signs of economic reality that have yet to be airbrushed away:


One business by the stadium is thriving!


But the giant also leaves footprints unseen - except for those it has stepped on.


This lot is two blocks over from the temple. Turns out they couldn't find enough parking spots so the city condemned nearby houses to make room. This lot is one of many.


There is a need in every human to worship, a need as undeniable as breathing air. And what you choose to worship will bring you either life or death.

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For more pictures and info about the Cowboy's billion dollar stadium, click here.

Her Pursuit Of Paradise In Purses

I'm da man!

Dare she dispute them?

Sometimes nothing isolates one as much so unwarranted praise does. Whether one is the clown on stage desperate to keep his humor alive or a lost soul sitting at a tea party letting dreams unlived be ascribed to you, it's a seductive form of loneliness one feels curiously tempted - forced even - to keep alive. They must never know!

Debby sat at such a tea party. The conversation had turned towards children and inwardly she withdrew, the words of her compatriots a cacophony in her precious ears. She listened with appropriate expressions and proper acknowledgement, but the verbal onslaught was so violent within, nary a word was distinct. She mused it must be like what a deaf person feels like if someone were to raucously shake them and scream into their face - you wouldn't know what they were saying but you damn sure knew what you felt.

Debby had always loved - and played well - the role of the Good Girl. This carried into her adult life with the raising of her two children. Always, always, always do what was expected, first and foremost. And no matter the personal cost to herself, she had done that. Now Debby reaped the rewards of her faithful duties as the compliments flowed down upon her from her overly-insistent friends. Only this time the compliments bound her and constrained her as in wrapping her in saran wrap. An ugly picture popped into her mind she seen once.

Dare she dispute them?

Why is it so bad this time? Is it because hubby is out of town and I feel freer to be myself? Are these the true feelings of my life? Can't be!

The gnawing worm never ceased. What am I here for? Could she truly be responsible to anything or anyone without being responsible to herself? In Debby's world, nothing was more heretical than to pursue her own interests. She had lead a selfish life and married her selfishness to boot. Were she to pursue her own dreams now Those Whose Approval She Sought Most would only call her selfish and unmindful of the needs of others. But dear God, that's what she is now!

Why can't their yapping mouths cease? Her thoughts drifted back to Him, the one who had mocked her so long ago, branding her soul with his faith in her. One of her duties as a secretary had been to dump out and clean the commercial sized coffee urn. She could hear him still: "Is that what you went to college for, Debby? You learn that in Coffee 101?" She was silent then too.

But did it really matter if she lived or died? She was just another useless soul wandering the face of the earth. What matter I?

The three terrorists who sipped tea and had slyly wrapped her in confined despair took much pleasure in her predicament. Seeing Debby too weak to fight back, not daring to dispute their lies, emboldened them in further righteous attacks. But the insanity of it had dawned on Debby and she knew she must speak before she drowned.

"I love my children and they'll always come first," she soothingly assured. "But, you know, sometimes you have to do things for yourself too. I have needs as well."

First, be your own friend

"Why of course you do, darling!" disagreed her friends. "Go out and do something selfish. Make yourself feel good."

Debby wondered: was that a victory? Were they finally conceding she needed more purpose out of life than just her motherly duties? Could they see her soul was dying having denied herself all these years? Yes! Yes! That's what they were saying! Debby needs a career even if her kids' lives suffer from what it is today. Free at last! Free at last!

Her friends continued their response to her meek proposal. "You know what you need to do? Go out and get yourself a new purse! Be good to yourself! Ain't nothing wrong with that, child!"

Debby always went out and got a new purse when she felt down. So far she had 86 finely crafted bags stuffed into her closet. It had always been the safe rebellion. Debby assured them that was exactly what she was going to do to give her life the meaning she craved for day and night. Again, this much pleased her tormenters.

Browsing coyly down the aisle, distracting herself with stylish contempt, Debby solaced herself with the thought that anyone as pathetic as she probably had no true purpose in life anyway. She lived in a hypnotic world of fluorescent lights and air conditioned stores and people paid to be pleasant. That Chanel bag in front of her was real. Her need to be whole was fiction of the mind. And most importantly, her children were happy. Who could dispute her?

For bag ladies of a different sort

Alone in the their rooms, Abigail and Jake were miserable in suffocating despair, hating the strangulation of their voices. Do I dare dispute Mom? She so needs to believe I'm happy. I can't break the silence. What matter I anyway?

_________________________________________

__________________________________________

Far away, She was still on his mind:

The bad morning dream I woke from was ringing in my ears throughout the day. I fear I cannot keep my love alive for Her any longer. In my dream I had reached her house at last, only to find she had died and her husband had had her head stuffed and mounted over their bed. He'd made her head small and insignificant, and it was looking away with a forced smile. When I peered up close I could see her face clearly but it was not the face I had known. Behind me, I heard the one who mounted her speak. "Now she's mine forever."

My knees buckled in grief, and I drowned in the tidal waves of despair and sorrow that crashed over me. I startled myself awake but the dream still waits for me the next time I close my eyes.

Support Your Local Stormtrooper!

City of Bedford's armored vehicleThe only crime problem in Bedford
is when the maid steals the silverware

The Sunday Fort Worth Star Telegram had an article musing on the over-militarization of local police forces. That's a pretty shocking statement given that the paper's target audience is one of the most red meat Republican counties in the country, people who would re-elect our previous President in a heartbeat. And while no one would argue the right and the necessity for police to be able to adequately defend themselves, there is also a temptation for police to use all available toys on hand - even if the situation does not call for it.

So do the police really need all these armored vehicles? Or grenade launchers? Or drone aircraft even! Could it be our men in blue are merely on a power trip, trying to incur as much intimidation as possible for anyone who crosses their path? Could it be there's a rising tension in this country making everyone want to arm themselves like a Mad Max movie? I would say so. Criminal Justice professor Peter Kraska, of Eastern Kentucky University, has studied the militarization of police forces:

"We have been witness to a little-noticed but nonetheless momentous historical change - the traditional distinctions between military/police, war/law and internal/external security are rapidly blurring."

Just as with the accusations of the overuse of Tasers, the temptation to use a sledgehammer for a flyswatter seems to be the trend in law enforcement.

"In the past, SWAT teams and their military-type equipment were used in extreme circumstances and that was rare," said Kraska. "Now it's much more." Kraska said that nationwide, SWAT teams were dispatched about 3,000 times each year in the 1980s. Last year, that happened about 55,500 times, he said.

Future nihilist

Hysteria is the first step on the road to catastrophe. Since 9/11, we've stayed in a permanent haze of hysteria and the idea of neverending war is now greeted with a collective shrug. Who would have thought such a thing possible in 1999? In ten short years (OK, they did seem like an eternity) we've gone from balanced budgets and peace and prosperity to a point where none of those things seems likely ever again.

America's credo of "Every man for himself" has only intensified the cruelty of our economic crisis. This leads those who still live in blind bubbles of isolation to increase their worship of war and military/police powers to keep them "safe". Bubble people know as the suffering increases around them - along with their own abhorrence of accepting any system of sharing - the more brutal the need will be to beat back the angry and hungry hordes. And trust me, the attack dogs in blue will not hesitate to obey their masters.

The irony, of course, is when those very same attack dogs the Comfortable Class help arm with smirking approval get turned on them. Only when it's too late will Whitey realize the folly of keeping one's self "safe" by holding a knife to your fellow man's throat. Since we have not yet learned to live together, the situation can only grow more dire and in the end no one will be safe. Give love a chance. It's not like we have a choice.

The future is ours

"One World, One People": Was Lennon Deluded?

First, let me explain. I am like a lawyer: I never ask a question I don't already know the answer to. After all, who asks a question of a dying planet and expects to get an honest answer? The goal of the persons on a dying planet is to escape personal responsibility (the only reason why a planet would die in the first place). To do this, one must first deny the truth - but in that denial they reveal their true selves. However, since few admit this crime, they will deny anyway! Below are the contentions of what some perceive as a valid counter argument to Lennon's statement:

John Lennon said we are "one world, one people." He said it was "...a statement as well as a wish". But why would anyone say we are one people when we are clearly tearing ourselves apart? We starve each other, mutilate each other, rape each other, invade each other and model our societies on dog-eat-dog philosophies. Lennon, of course, had no way of knowing reality. He never held a job in his life, he put no effort into his schooling and basically just did what he wanted his whole life through.

So naturally he had these sort of "nice thoughts" and a "love philosophy". To him the world was peachy keen because he was isolated from it on a sea of fortune and fame. And he wanted to keep that cushy life going by wishful thinking and not doing anything real. Nihilists even contend there is nothing real to be done anyway! So if Lennon was deluded about us being "one world, one people" then what are we really and what is real to be done?

Here are his own words:

PLAYBOY: The album will end with the chant we heard today, "One World..."

LENNON: "...One People."

PLAYBOY: Another kind of-

LENNON: Subliminal message, right [laughing]

PLAYBOY: Is that when hard times will be over - when we become one world, one people?

LENNON: No, no, no. We are one world, one people whether we like it or not. Aren't we? I mean we can pretend we're divided into races and countries and can carry on pretending that until we stop doin' it. But the reality is that it is one world and it is one people.

PLAYBOY: The step after "Imagine"...

LENNON: That's the way it is really. "Imagine" said, "Well, can ya possibly imagine it?" "Consider this!"

PLAYBOY: And now that you've considered it...

LENNON: Now that you've considered it...

PLAYBOY: Open your eyes.

LENNON: [Excitedly] Yeah, right! Right! But I don't want it to come across like "I am..." or "We are the awakened spirit. You are the sheep that will be shown the way..." It's not that. And that is the danger in saying anything, you know.

PLAYBOY: Especially for you, because people are looking...

LENNON: They are looking for leaders. Don't follow leaders, watch yer parking meters...[Chuckling] We'll get into that, but you know, leaders is what we don't need. We can have figureheads, we can have people we admire and like to have standing up and all that. We can have examples...But leaders is what we don't need. It's the utopian bit again. We're all members of the conceptual utopia. So let's no got round and round it: It's one world, one people, and it's a statement as well as a wish. [Laughing softly] So welcome to the dress rehearsal for "Double Fantasy".

Every reply to the truth is enlightening in one way or another

The Sad Man and the Arsonist

I have a dream!

The night was bone cold and unrepentantly windy, not fit for human consumption - though humans were forced to consume it nonetheless. And since the Sad Man was sad to sit by his unshared fire, he was happy to welcome the Arsonist into his home, to spare them both the fate of darkness. The Sad Man said he would accord the arsonist all the due worthy of a soul-bearing being, as one who carried within him a piece of God. But the Arsonist, whose soul was on fire, would have none of it.

"There is no God! There is no soul! Obviously, you blind yourself to the truth!"

The Arsonist agonized that his foolish soul alone would face its fiery fate - that none else would play the fool like he. But the Sad Man failed to see how the Arsonist could benefit from false words and asked him why he denied his soul.

"I deny nothing but what you imagine! Am I to live by the words of you? Obviously, you seek me to emulate you!"

The Sad Man was confused, having not asked the Arsonist to live by any of his words. Does the Arsonist see every question as a mandate?

"The crime you accuse me of is your own! Why speak of a soul that does not exist other than to force that idea upon me? Obviously, you wish of a life that cannot be!"

The Arsonist once had "tried" ("There is no try, only do!") to live the life of the soul unscorched, to obtain a soul as soothing as cool waters. But since he failed himself, his agony now forbade admission of even its possibility. For that, he stood with the blood of Jesus on his hands. Yet the Sad Man observed that a world not of cool waters would burn itself out and have no future.

"You are naive and hopeless in your pursuits to think all will have souls of cool water! Answer me, where will these souls of cool waters come from? Obviously, you know nothing of life but fantasy!"

But by the purification of fire the world will be saved. Just as heat cleanses germs from the roasting meat to make it safe, so shall the souls of fire destroy themselves by their own misjudgement and disappear, leaving only the souls of cool waters.

"Are you to tell me there's no fire in your soul? Who are you to preach to me? Obviously, you are a hypocrite who recommends life though he has chosen death!"

I failed to see how the Arsonist's assertions made my statements any more or less true. His hopeless fantasy seemed to be a hope to alter reality by wishful thinking. What is there to say to a soul such as that? But my silence set the crucifier into action as he poured gasoline in the corner of my home and lit it.

"Now you shall learn reality! You shall learn the world is a cruel and evil place and will never be a world of souls with cool waters! No one will listen to you!"

But I asked him if this was not more of an indication of his own world than anyone else's.

"No," the Arsonist assured himself, "I do this because I truly believe in having a soul of cool waters." And my house went up in flames as he cackled in evil glee.

Sad men don't rebuild their homes because it was sad to begin with. I merely live among the burned out framework and pray for the souls of the arsonists, though no longer sad for the arsonists in their winter. Had I thought it through the first time, I would have realized the arsonist is where Nature has intended him to be and maybe I had been hoping to escape the same fate.

The Big Vote

I vote myself to be blameless

"What is truth?" asked Pilate.

Jesus gave no answer.

The chief priests accused him of many things. So again Pilate asked him, "Aren't you going to answer? See how many things they are accusing you of."

But Jesus still made no reply, and Pilate was amazed.

--------------------------------------------------

Somehow the news had escaped me. When I woke up from a bad dream this morning, the world was abuzz over the Big Vote. "Vote on what?" I asked, scratching my morning beard as those around me most fastidiously put on their Sunday finest.

"The truth! We must vote on the truth today!"

I was incredulous. "Vote on it? How does our voting on it going to alter the truth? You can't vote the world flat!"

"Yes, but we must vote it round or it shall not be! Voting decides our future!"

"The truth decides our future whether we face it or not."

"Exactly! That's why we must vote on it!"

When I told them I had no interest in voting, they hissed at me like a den of angry snakes. They accused me of all their crimes: saying I was naive to evil and not understanding what it takes to correct it. From their mental madhouse I cannot escape.

Since each person claimed enlightenment, no vote was hidden. Here are a few I saw:

A truthless man voted himself to be deemed truthful. A devotee of evil voted evil to be called good. A coward voted himself to be savior. A loveless man voted that love is not enough. A worldly man voted the world to be his. A broken man voted the world to fix him. A childish one voted for any but him to make the world good. And everyone who voted deemed themselves holy and purveyors of truth.

Seeing I still had not voted, they hated and despised me, saying I was allowing the world to fall into chaos and ruin. When I told them their voting did nothing to fix it, they voted me of having delusions of grandeur and granting myself undue importance. "You merely wish to shape the world to your own point of view, just to make your self-serving ass look good!"

To that I said nothing, which in their naive and wishful minds made it true.

Let's vote this war to be righteous
so we can stop worrying about it

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And one of the scribes came, and having heard them reasoning together, and perceiving that Jesus had answered them well, asked him, "Which is the first commandment of all?"

And Jesus answered him, "The first of all the commandments is: Hear, O Israel; The Lord our God is one Lord:

"And thou shalt love the Lord thy God with all thy heart, and with all thy soul, and with all thy mind, and with all thy strength: this is the first commandment.

"And the second is like, namely this, Thou shalt love thy neighbour as thyself. There is none other commandment greater than these."

A voice voted against that, saying, "How will love solve anything if my neighbour does not love me back, what then? What is your answer?"

But Jesus gave no answer - and the silence confirmed the doubting man's doubts.

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I don't need love to have a future!

A man with no ears came to lecture me on the ways of responsibility. It was interesting because even though I answered him, the entire conversation was with himself.

"Why do you not vote? You must vote, my son, if you want to make things right! We must show others the truth!"

"I'm a real liberal. Real liberals don't vote. The truth is within us already."

"Today, I'm a good man! I voted to fix a world that cannot be fixed! Who can ask for more than that?"

"Uh, that means what?"

"I see you lounging here, doing nothing while I provide answers to our problems!"

"False answers don't count."

"Have you no ears? One must provide answers to all problems or one's words have no meaning! I am obligated to save you! I am your Guilty Hero, feeling the guilt of having never fixed myself."

"Voting your life to have meaning is not the same thing as giving it meaning. Only love can do that."

"I still see you not voting. You, sir, are a fool not to do as I do! You cannot change the world with mere words. Now, why do you not give me your words to answer my questions?"

"Maybe you should ask yourself why you ask the questions."

"But you must tell me about love! We each must pretend not to know how to change the world! It's what makes my voting meaningful. Tell me how love can heal the world!"

But what the man with no ears failed to hear was the sound of his own voice. His was not a call for love, so why would anyone answer?

A lesson for us all.

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You're Smarter Than You Think!

My brain hurtz!

I's dumm shit. Dummer'n a rock! Dumm as all get out, I is! I jess don't knows nothing me brain be so empty. Now, don't get me rong now, I tries hard, I tries waaay hard to get sumpthin out this brain o' mine but...nuttin...zero...nada. Thay tells me I can't be no sheeple and I got to fix the whole world and everythin' in it but dang, that a tall order thar son! Peepls jess don't understand about me brain, it just tain't good for nuttin. I's so ashamed.

What really be godawful is I can't find one perp being dummer'n me - not a one!! But I can't git five minit sleep without someone or another slappin' me upside the head sayin I gotta say sumpthin on how things is and wotnot and I's like 'A feller's gotta get his sleep too!' but they all hoppin' mad not givin a feller any peace at all. Peeple wot got no peace in 'em, well, guess they got none to giv either...

So I starts to lissen in on the smart folks but no ways I can keep up. See? I's not smart enuf to knows when to send peeples to die cuz I's can't see the cause fer it. And me mind jess ain't got the knowin's of when peeples s'possed to able to be eatin' and when they ain't cuz i figger everyone oughts to be eatin' all the time. An' I jess don't got the smarts to tell a man iffen he wants to go buildin' cars and stuff that he ought'n be alloud to do it. I's jess lucky them smarts folk can figger it all out cuz I sees them sending peepls off to die and not lettin 'em have no food and makin' 'em sits at home doin' nuttin when I knows they wants to be doin sumpthin.

Sorry, but I's jess dumm like dat.

That what has to be?

But I wants to be pullin' me wait n such so I asks these three fellers wot all how we can be fixin' this world of hurt of our'n. But dagnabit if thay jess don't clam rite up and not let me knows nuttin! They goes like:

"Can't help ya, man. Gotta figure it out for yourself."

"There is no answer! The world is freaking hopeless!"

"Man, that's way too heavy a question for the likes of me. That's for someone smarter than me to figure out."

Me eyes get wide as saucers on that las fella's remark and I asks if he dumm as a rock like me! Be he get all pouty lookin and jess raise up his fist with one finger stickin' up. I takes that to be ruud but I cant let that be stoppin me from sayin's whats on me mind cuz them dam head slappers won't let me rest till I do.

"Well, doncha think we's be whole lot better off if we starts to buildin' stuff up around luv cuz thar don't seem to be no livin' wit all da hate in da world."

Suddenly, they gets real smart on me and wot they not knows a minit ago pops in their brain like a lightnin' bolt! "Love? That will never work, you idiot. I don't know what the answer is, but I know it's not LOVE!"

Sorry, but I's jess dumm like dat.

We made jess to crucify?

So that get me ta wonderin': jess wot is we anyways? Maybe if I knows xactly wot we is I can knows wots best to be dun. (all dis thinkin' hurtin me brain, tho!) So I goes back to the three wize man askin' them jess wot peeples made of.

"We are what we make ourselves independent of an unknowable reality."

"We are nothing more than fish with elongated fins. So who knows what is right and wrong."

"It's impossible to know who we are! No one can know!"

That last fella just gots to be me cuzin or sumpthin' but darn if I ain't all kindz of confused all over again. I ain't never been able's to figger how me soul gonna be happy when I ain't gots no luv in me and I be wantin' it bad! So I ask them maybe iffen we aren't really luv after all. And darnd iffen that lightnin' bolt don't strikes them agin! "Love? Of course we aren't love, you idiot. I don't know what we are, but I know it's not LOVE!"

Sorry, but I's jess dumm like dat.

We can't do no better then this?

It's hard beein' dumm. Harder then the hardest rock wot ever been hard! I's don't know why the good Lord dun give me this life wot with this dumm dumm brain o' mine! I got all kindz of sad in me now all balled up and cryin' cuz thar ain't gotta be no luv in da world and thar ain't gott be no luv in us so wot we doin' here anyways?? Help me brain! You got no anssers in ya atall!!!! So I has to ask them peeps one more times jess wot dis life thing be.

"Life is whatever life is."

"Life is to be endured and then forgotten as we return to cosmic particles never knowing why."

"Why ask questions that can't be answered?"

But thems the ones that started all the queschun askin'! Is it my fault me brain be wot it is? Did the good Lord do me rong and not make me head rite? Iffen da Lord be likin' me at all, I figgers He gots some sorta plan for me even wit dis brain o’ mine. It's some bad bad thots thinkin' otherwize, so I jess has to tell them boyz dat life just gotta be luv! "Love? Of course life isn't love, you idiot. I don't know what life is, but I know it's not LOVE!"

Sorry, but I's jess dumm like dat.

So I's dun asking queschuns!!!!! An it don't seem no one want much to talk me no mores anyway. Thay stops askin' ya to speek iffen they don' like wot you got to say. So I ain't sayin no more speshally sense I aint got no sense no how an' best keep me mouth shut. Funny - and this aint jess cuz they not be slappin' me upside the head no more - but I sleeps lots better now than afore I asked all them things. I jess don't knows wot ta think so I jess ain't gonna think nuttin at all wot them fellers told me.

But did notice sumthing strange 'bout them boys and I ask me buddy later jess who they mite be.

"Oh, them? They're the werewolves of London."

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Werewolves of London-A Tribute to Warren Zevon - The funniest home videos are here