Picasso In The Sky With Diamonds

His name was Luis Montoya Escobar. But to history, he has no name. He lived in a nameless village in the Spanish countryside after the turn of the 20th century. Luis labored as a miserable blacksmith convinced both the world and universe were out to get him. Not to mention his wife.

A man living on the edge of violence instead channeled his passions to canvass. Luis harbored no dreams of being a painter. His blacksmith father would highly disapprove of such a silly pursuit and Luis intended to honor his father's wishes. He was only driven to paint as a last resort, to pick up a brush instead of a knife.

But to the heavens he could not deny he was a fractured soul no matter how he repressed his dreams. Every compliment was two-edged. If his blacksmithing were praised he'd dismiss it as a soulless pursuit. If his art were praised he'd dismiss it as a pointless pursuit. No matter which one he chose at any given time, it would be the other he longed for in his servitude of two masters.

As his despair weighed heavier on his shoulders, the more extreme his painting. By 1908, more than a few of the villagers considered his work deranged. Luis' wife had no sympathy for his creations either, especially since she was often their subject. From where the heartbreak of his life came from Luis could not pinpoint. True, he felt alive when painting but that provided no answer for the dilemma of feeding both his body and his soul.

One day, a traveler passed through in a steamy summer rain. Luis hated these humid days mired in the heat of his already suffocating shop. Thus, his temper was short when the traveler stopped to ask directions. Plus, he instinctively hated the man, recognizing something of himself. Luis was very tired of Luis and any reminder of himself was not welcome in the least.

The traveler was hungry - not for his stomach but for his soul. His constantly searching eyes took in everything down to the smallest detail. This man was on a quest for the Next Step, halted and hounded in his promising journey in life; directionless and floundering in festering fear. One thing he did know: it was out there somewhere. Both internally and externally the stranger combed the universe. Like a gun in his back, the aching emptiness drove him forward as a blinded man in a blizzard. Both heaven and hell nipped his heels: to live on the edge of unfound life-changing excitement was a storm he must endure or die.

Then suddenly the traveler broke through to Luis in their bickering conversation when he said, "You know, no matter what a man chooses to do in life, there is nothing harder than keeping a marriage alive. It's easier to spin a mountain on a needle than to do that!"

Luis needed no encouragement on that topic. They departed the shop for some afternoon wine and even though Luis had begun to hide his paintings he was eager to show this kindred alien traveler of the world his creations.

The traveler was in awe. "These are fantastic! You could shake up the world with these!"

"Oh, they are nothing. Just my feelings in haste."

"Painting is a blind man's profession. He paints not what he sees, but what he feels, what he tells himself about what he has seen. Tell me, when did you paint this one here?"

"That's the last one I did. The villagers have started to whisper about me, the work is that disturbing to them. I painted as a child but my father beat me out of it. I guess I still paint like a broken child."

"Every child is an artist. The problem is how to remain an artist once we grow up."

"But I wasn't even trying to do anything. Can't you see it barely looks like a woman? It just came out that way how I felt."

"Art is a lie that tells the truth. Let me take this last one at least and show it to the world. It will change your life!"

"Senor, I'm afraid you do not understand. This last one I did, I did like all the others. I got mad and drunk at my wife. I thought my head was going to split in two. That's the only time I paint. I don't really like going through that wretched, wretched pain. It tears my soul in two. I'm only telling you this because I think you're someone who can understand. My soul is fragmented like that painting. Mother Maria, help me!"

Luis, at odds with himself, could not be convinced to allow even one painting to be taken. He clung to them for dear life. Take them away and his life would slip through the cracks never to return - or so he convinced himself. The truth, however, was just the opposite. His name slipped through the cracks of history never to return even though having broached the next great direction of art in the modern world. But the traveler knew genius when he saw it.

Back in Madrid, his simmering brush - for he too was a painter - exploded with his own expression of "fragmented" painting, which he renamed "cubism". These expressions did indeed rock the art world, making him a superstar overnight. When asked if he was worried other artists would soon start copying this new style and perhaps steal his thunder, he replied: "Good artists copy. Great artists steal."

Luis never painted again. Instead, he divorced and spent the rest of his days in a bottle. The daily drunkenness was all the proof he needed of his cursed life. He had painted as well as he could but never was it enough to make him famous. Oh sure, that guy walking through the village liked them that one time but he must have been delusional thinking Luis out of everyone in the world had discovered some groundbreaking art technique. No, he'd done the sensible thing and not let himself be made a fool of. His father would be proud.

Changing The Rules

When you're in the boiling pot...

...you don't think about your woman, you don't think about the living world, you don't think about the moon or the sun or the sky, you don't think about yesterday or tomorrow, you don't think about the state of affairs or bombs dropping from the heavens, you don't think about starving children, you don't about justice to ensure a future, you don't think about assassins in the night or angels in the day, you don't think about left or right or up or down, you don't think about childhood dreams, you don't think about your gnawing insecurities, you don't think about the latest trends or who's fucking who, you don't think about what anyone is saying or praying, you don't think about if you've been dumb or smart, you don't think about anything really - except for one thing...

...getting out of that goddam pot.

So when I finally came out I was surprised. Confusion replaced clarity. Those who'd fought for me forgot me. How would I pay rent for the ground upon which I stood? What is the time? Will I follow the sun? I could hear those who'd been laughing at my demise. I saw victims rejoice for killers. I felt the sting of rejection return. I was angered over dirty air whereas I'd been happy breathing coal dust before. I became erect in my desires. Then at last, my thoughts returned to love.

Walking away, I heard voices in the halls of power speaking. "Keep them in the boiling pots and they'll never think of what we do. Makes you wonder why they let us do it! Hahaha!"

I wondered if the end of Man was nigh, with nothing to stop the bleeding or the spreading of darkness.

"Blessed are the peacemakers,
for they shall be called the children of God."

But then I heard the screams stop. The king, who always delighted watching a soul boil in oil, watched in horror as the man got out of the pot unharmed and spoke before him. "No longer can you hurt me nor can anyone hurt anyone." As the man walked out the king ordered the guards to shoot but to no avail. Around the world, no weapon had any effect. Armies departed the field. Food was withheld but none starved. Rape, in all its forms, was disabled forever.

Those who fed on the artifice of the world fell to the bottom. No reason to obey a king now. Bankers, insurers, soldiers, jailors, thieves, hypocrites of all stripes decried the new world order imposed on them without say or quarter. Theirs had been empires built on pain. But Nature had refused these shackles - something they counted on never happening. "Now we have no future!" they wailed - and were correct.

But those who'd remained true to their heart, trusting in Nature even when the sun had been blocked out, breathed free air for the first time in history. The weed had ruled the flower for so long it was thought it would last forever. No soul was judged, only given that for which had been asked to receive. The meaning of dreams could never be trampled again. The dreamers celebrated. "Now we have a future," they rejoiced - and were correct.

A Homeless Manifesto

[I always feel a sense of the absurd seeing a Presidential motorcade with the reams of security surrounding it in every direction. So many people willing to give their life to save that one person. Is that one life really more valuable than the next? How much longer will the illusion of kings last? In the real world, every life matters. In the false, inverted world we have now we've yet to realize the value and need of every soul. There can be no future until we face the fact every life deserves a motorcade of security.

Fallen under an evening park bench I found these pages ripped from a small notebook. My guess is the author uses that notebook in an attempt to hold on to what's left of his sanity. I would kill to see his daily musings, the observations of a man abandoned on the streets. I also know there are many who would literally kill not to read it - including whichever President is in power at the time. A person who hungers for the words of the rejected and the homeless can never be elected.

These are the words of a man obviously in pain, struggling against the world, himself and even life itself at certain points. His thoughts are an SOS to the world never to be heard. An inverted world is like a man holding a great weight over his head. One day his strength must give out. On that day we'll realize the gifts we've rejected over the ages, of words of warning and words of love holding true.]

Dear God,

Please make up your mind. Do you want me to have a soul or have money? The pursuit of either leads to death. So where is life? Am I to raise a family without money - or without a soul? I see neither having a future.

Who am I to fix this world? No one person can do that. And yet that obligation is on me if I am to survive. The knowledge of how to do this is beyond me. You must expect me to be Jesus and grab endless food from a basket. I guess I can't complain if that's where you set the bar but expect a lot of dead people in the end.

My health fades with every passing day. Blessed are the rich for they will receive healthcare. All you do God is dogpile on the downtrodden and oppressed. You say you'll provide for us as You do the free birds. Maybe someday, but not today. No bird is free who has to punch a time clock.

There is no place for me in this world. Reality is there's no place for anyone but that's a lesson yet to be learned. In the meantime, we are dying and dying to live. The numbers grow larger each passing day. We're trapped yet hate the most the man who throws off his chains.

Monsters of the world keep getting stronger. Holy hypocrites, anarchist capitalists, saboteurs of saints. In money we trust, in war we hope, in lies we have faith. I cannot do what they ask. You made me wrong, God.

You're a hard man, God. Real fucking hard. You're like the others. All you do is take. Everybody has their goddam hand in your pocket. I have nothing left, nowhere to go, nothing to construct. My mind is collapsing into a void, a complete blank. I hope this makes you happy.

Assassins and blackmailers gloat at the top, corporate pimps and whores in constant parade, snake oil slicksters own the airwaves. I am surrounded. Why have you made freedom from them a sin, God? Why do you punish those who give? Why are the weeds rewarded as the flowers?

I have a song in my heart I cannot sing. The notes will not leave the safety of my throat. For this the liars call me a liar and the destroyers call me a destroyer, and I am unable to retort. I am painted by their brush then mocked in daily scorn for the image they create. But we know the truth, don't we, God? Both of us are silent.

Both the atheist and theist are right. There's a God on heaven but only as much God as we let in here - and that is almost none. Those who practice love are the first to perish. You say one day when the time is right they will be avenged. But You also say to live for today. I would love to live for today: that means the end of the world.

It is written You were angry and displeased when Jesus died. Well, welcome to the world. Have you ever been homeless, to live in constant fear? Have you ever been injured on the job as a desperate immigrant only to be thrown out in the street broken and unable to fend for yourself? Do you know what it's like to be crucified and not have it mean anything? Everyone gets the shaft here. Somehow I suspect that was not the plan.

I don't know what to do with my aimless life. I'm all out of guesses and directions to take. I simply sit here under the sun as a life form despised by the universe. You claim you want me to live, God, but do nothing about it. These assholes here don't want me to live and they damn sure do something about that. More every fucking day.

I have no energy left for the pretend answers they feed me. Fade to black. God always wins. We always lose. If only God were a dreamer.

Her Prison Within

"Well. I didn't think that was going to happen. Oh, dear..."

*****

It had been building for a long time. Much longer than she cared to admit. Maybe even the entire time. Her inner voice screamed she was losing her morality. She retorted she was a wealthy Christian wife with children, i.e. bulletproof. She had climbed the mountain of morality according to the hallmarks of the society which cared for her. She ruled in undisputed reign, no voice dare speak out against her - except for the inner one crushing her soul.

Misery is the mother of change. Yes, it took decades to come to fruition as she knew change would mean the end of life as she knew it. But when that life lost its desirability, the unthinkable became thinkable. The solid belief in her goodness having eroded, she had to admit - privately - it had been an illusion all long. But what if she really did do something real?

I want that certainty back more than anything in the world. This hollow act is wearing on me and I can think of nothing worse than that coming to light. But if I step out of this rut and do something I can genuinely be proud of, no one will ever know of my long moral lapse. I don't know if I can even do this. Been so long since I've dealt with the unknown...

But facing the unknown would help revive her lagging self-respect. Literature had always been her passion. In the past she'd joined Bible study groups as the outreach in her life, but those had always been so...confining. She wanted to join a real club, something vibrant where every opinion wasn't known beforehand. If she joined a true book reading club she might even be required to read *gasp* forbidden books. That could be a tough sell but a price she'd pay to put adventure back in her life.

Too much adventure for a lifelong liar

It was not too hard to find a club in the creative landscape of San Francisco. She picked the one most daring and exciting to her withered soul. In for a penny, in for a pound, she reasoned. Plus it felt good to finally feel alive under the glorious bay sunlight. So many different people living so many different lives. Seeing it up and close and personal put a whole new spin on life. It was as if she'd been watching the world through her own private TV - or prison bars.

The meetings were as exciting and lively as she'd hoped. Throwing off ancient shackles rid herself of the rust of decaying guilt. She couldn't help but be amused by the shocking convictions she heard - words that would make her carefully screened circle howl in dismay. But she found it thrilling even with a latent feeling of betrayal. How obvious she needed to stop betraying herself if she wanted to get her self-respect back. At some point, though, this will come to a head...

Having taken one step she wanted to take another, one gulp of air launching a mad scramble for life. Her own views started to change and she wished to share her new enlightenment even at the cost of her friends' and family's approval. Surprisingly, she didn't get the backlash she expected. So she took it further down the line, to the place where she felt most free. Now surely that would get her disowned! Instead, she heard understanding and even some agreement. But this doesn't match what you've been saying and preaching all these years!

"What do you mean you got a blow job from Aunt Bea??"

Then it hit her. What cowards and hypocrites. They already know the truth! They just wanted someone else to say it first before agreeing. I wonder how long they've known. Are they laughing at me for just now finding out? No. They must hate themselves for lying and cowering in the dark. I held them up in such high regard. I always wondered how I could ever match them when I myself was having such a hard time. No wonder my little voice has been screaming at me to step out. I thought it wanted to destroy my life but it's trying to save me. Damn!

But a single flower does not a garden make. She hungered to fill her garden, to bring it to life. This was the real way! Having once tasted life she could not go back to a dullard's bitterness. Even if she did she could no longer be convincing in her happy act knowing what she knew now. So that's the price for this gift. The price for lying has doubled. And will double again if I take another step. I'm more frightened now than ever before in my life.

The full magnitude of what she'd done hit her like a sledgehammer. No way she could shake the feeling she'd lose everything if she continued down this road to life. That she could not do. On the other hand, there was no going back to the old her. The oxygen was leaving her lungs. She ran outside to the patio in desperation, crying out to the world. "Where is freedom? Where is life? Why does everyone have it but me!"

*****

The decision to do nothing buried her alive in terrifying boredom. These are the same walls you will stare at until the end of time! At times she could barely keep her composure, yelling inside while talking on the phone to her father; a million miles away at the dinner table; rejected dreams revived in the middle of the night. Like everyone, she had known bouts of boredom before - but never as a coffin, as a permanent unsealable fate. This was terror on a scale she never could have imagined.

In one of her many judgmental moments of the past she haughtily decried women who had affairs "because they are bored. How silly is that? I just can't understand it," she readily assured herself. That was before she knew it could be life and death. How shocking to find she'd gladly accept an affair now if it brought back that first feeling of life. She wanted it again and again and again. "What would Solomon say of me now?"

On July 6, 2001, betrayer Robert Hanssen, who spied for Soviet and Russian intelligence services against the United States for 22 years from 1979 to 2001, pleaded guilty to fifteen counts of espionage. On May 10, 2002 he was sentenced to fifteen consecutive sentences of life in prison without the possibility of parole. Hanssen is Federal Bureau of Prisons prisoner #48551-083. He is serving his sentence at ADX Florence, a federal supermax prison, in solitary confinement 23 hours a day.

When ISIS Eyes Are Smilin'

"Hey, Harry, did you hear the news?? Oh my God, the whole world is falling apart!"

"No, I've been busy."

"Busy? What have you got to be busy about?"

"Oh, lots of things."

"Like you're some important person doing something. I bet you've not been busy at all!"

"Don't get in a snit. I've been very busy being depressed digging my hole deeper, missing Emily horribly, feeling frustratingly futile, and looking for plausible excuses for anger like an asshole conservative. That's a lot for any one person's plate."

"Sounds like bullshit to me."

"You predicate that on my having an interest in your opinion." I then waved him away with a small hand gesture that only infuriated him more - as intended.

"You can't tell me you haven't heard about the attacks!"

"Which attacks? The invasion of Iraq, global JSOC missions, extrajudicial drone strikes? Can't tell the good players from the bad without a program, I say."

"I'm talking about evil people attacking innocent civilians. That's totally different than when we good people kill innocent civilians."

"See? That's what I'm talking about. No one gave me a list of who's good and who's bad. But then, who needs one when I got you keeping tabs on things for me."

"You're completely irresponsible! You just sit there doing nothing to stop the terrorists. We've got to do something!"

"You know what, you're right."

"I am?"

"Absolutely. I say this now from the highest cliff in the land: Terrorism bad! Stop it! Everyone hold hands - unless you're afraid of getting AIDS from Charlie Sheen."

"That's just so wrong in so many ways. Unbelievable! You're just going to lounge there and let terrorists come in the door!"

"I'm nobody's puppet."

"You will be when they come busting through!"

"I have no fear of that."

"Then you a fool! How can you say something like that?"

"Because I know you'll be out there fighting them before they ever get to me."

"That's right! I'm a freedom fighter! You're a freedom sucker, just sponging off other people's efforts."

"You could always de-enlist. No skin off my nose."

"I'm not shameful like that. And you'll get what you deserve. I don't know how you can live with yourself being like that."

"I'll say three Hail Mary's before I go to bed tonight."

"Well, that's something!"

"Is it?"

Stop distracting me from naked Kardashians

"You can't take anything seriously, can you? People dying all over the place, blown to bits for no good reason. That could be you! We have to do something!"

"Like I said, I'm nobody's puppet." I stretched out and turned on my side. An attempt at shaming guilt to come next, no doubt.

"You know what one guy did? He played "Imagine" outside where the attacks were. What do you think of that, Mr. Lennon fan?"

"If John Lennon were alive today he'd be lynched. You and all your phony patriots would call him a traitor for not giving in to hate."

"You gotta be a terrorist to fight terrorists! You have to shoot the enemy standing in front of you."

"The only way to fight terrorists is not to become one."

"Screw that! We be bombing the shit out of them now. Hahaha! Take that, you fuckers!"

"You can't bomb terrorism. You really think you can just keep killing until all the so-called bad guys are gone and one day be safe?"

"Heck yeah!"

"And just by curious coincidence no one here in this country needs bombing."

"We're the good guys, dummy. I'm an expert on knowing the good guys. I stay informed - unlike you!"

"Ah, I'd love to hear an expert's opinion on who the good guys are."

"Oh, that's easy: It's anyone who looks like me."

"Well played, sir! Thank God for terrorism, eh? Now your life finally has purpose and meaning."

"You can say that again!"

Part 2: Spotlight On The Juden

Normally in this column we spotlight regularly committed Jewish treacheries and atrocities but today we'd like to take a different turn here at Fascist Times and show there can be a good Jew even if on very rare occasions. We'd also like to take this opportunity to prove this is not a baseless propaganda column as falsified by corrupt Western powers. We recognize both good and bad equally, turning a blind eye to neither. And with that said we'd like to introduce to our readers the woman known as the "Queen Of The Cattle Cars" (as dubbed by our very own Minister of Propaganda Goebbels!)

The camp relocation program has been a win-win for both the German and Jewish populations, an inarguable achievement of which our state should be duly proud! However, there are malcontents that exist no matter how just a society may be, and these misguided souls need gentle persuading to get them onto the correct path. That's where our interview subject, the Cattle Car Queen comes in. She fully embraces the enlightened wisdom of the camp deployments and her good work for this noble cause has not gone unnoticed.

FT: Just what was it that made your Jewish mind understand the need and the ultimate reward of the camp deployments?

QCC: I was just tired of hearing the constant carping and negativity of my own people! Who are these people who think they know everything and try to run people's lives? They're too good to try something different? Give camps a chance!

FT: I'm impressed by your open mind! A most Germanic trait. It sounds like this is a job you thoroughly enjoy.

QCC: Oh, it is! It is! I love, love, love my job. I'm someone who enjoys helping people. This has to be by far the most rewarding experience of my life.

FT: I've heard you even travel on the cars with those people.

QCC: Yes, I just can't help it, I get so involved. I like asking about their children and lives, what sort of plans they have for the future. What I really like is when we play this game where we come up with answers on how camp life will make their lives better. Sometimes you get the most amazing answers!

FT: [Laughter] I bet you do! But what do you make of all the Jewish bashing of your efforts, of those who say you are a betrayer?

QCC: They betray themselves. Try following orders if you want a good outcome. Don't like how life is for you? Well, adopt a better attitude and see what happens! Certainly worked for me. All I can do is try to salvage as many lives as I can and pull them out of the darkness. But not everyone listens.

A mother and daughter stand in line to have their faces measured by a thick, thuggish bully of a woman who'd later be reincarnated as the governor of New Jersey. After the mother passes, the daughter is then measured, causing the thug woman to exclaim: "Ist Juden! Ist Juden!" The daughter is taken away as the screaming mother is restrained. She is inconsolable, the grief unbearable, all hope and reason having left the world. She cries out helplessly to a helpless God. It does not matter to this woman that one day the Nazi empire will crumble or that vengeance is God's. It only matters her daughter has been taken away - a daughter she'll never see again.

FT: Minister of Propaganda Goebbels himself appointed you to this position, a man of true insight. What was it like meeting Minister Goebbels?

QCC: A meeting I'll never forget! I was, like, totally awestruck. To be in such a position of responsibility over the whole country is an undertaking I just cannot imagine. I feel with every fiber of my being his is a name that will be remembered by history. For me to be a part of that history, to be recognized by this man, is truly life changing. My only regret is that not every Jew feels the thrills and honor I have felt.

FT: It's obvious this work means very much to you. You speak with a near religious fervor.

QCC: Oh, very much so. I feel Jesus by my side, beaming in pride as I give aid and comfort to the doubting Thomas's. There's not a doubt in my mind I'm doing the Lord's work. Helping others is the most rewarding experience one can ask for. I will not rest until I can get every Jew into a camp.

FT: Neither shall I! [Both laugh] I must admit I'm highly impressed with your resolve and dedication to this cause. What gets you so fired up day after day?

QCC: What really struck me from the beginning was the undoubting conviction of the Nazis as this for a final solution. They have no hesitation, you see no wavering in the enforcement. They just know. I know I've never felt that certain about anything before in my life and I wanted a piece of that feeling. It's very inspiring!

FT: Acceptance of guidance is key to an orderly society.

QCC: Precisely! I have zero tolerance for dissent. It's irresponsible and leads only to chaos. You can tell who the good people are because they do as they're told.

FT: Your admirable attitude is not shared by everyone of your race, unfortunately. What do you say to those who spread stories of Nazi mistreatment of Jews?

QCC: You know something? I'm very glad you asked me that. I want to set the record straight once and for all. There are some people who speak solely from their personal agenda, with no regard to the truth, without a single thought whom it might hurt. Their one and only motivation is to spread a self-centered, self-serving skewed viewpoint of the world which they believe will be of benefit to them right or wrong [Hi, Donald!]. I cannot tell you how steamed I get when I hear those people speak, talking with authority when they don't have a clue as to what's true. I've known only the best of treatment from the Nazis and frankly sometimes they are better to me than I am to myself.

FT: Wow! That's some speech, very powerful. I just want to conclude that you are a shining example of what even a Jew can be. If all Jews were like you it would certainly make the final solution much easier and these times much more pleasant. Please check this column next week as we explore the Jewish conspiracy to re-introduce the Black Plague to Europe.

Part 1: The Judas Jew

"Hurry, everyone, or you're going to get left behind!" Gullible Gladys, always excited to please, was the first one on the cattle car. "This is going to be great!"

The rest of the crowded angry Jews were not so enthused as they were manhandled by scowling, gun-toting Nazis. One elderly man was completely unamused. "These men are beasts stuffing us into cramped cars without even a toilet!"

"They're doing the best they can!" countered Gullible Gladys. "Put on your happy face!"

"You've got a real attitude problem, you do."

"I'm choosing to be positive. I'm one of the good guys!"

A mother and her small children were downcast. "We don't want to go to this camp. I'm hearing horrible things."

"Don't listen to those negative nabobs! The Nazis are trying a New Way. Don't know until you try. Give it a chance!"

"I hear they work you until you drop."

"Are expecting something for free? I know I'm certainly not. Work is good for you. We can't expect concentration camps to be perfect. Don't let perfect be the enemy of the good!"

"I don't care what you say, I still don't want to go."

"Well, the decision has been made! Nothing you can do! They must be so smart to be making all these decisive decisions! It's coming whether we like it or not!"

"What if we get there and it's as horrible as they say?"

"Then it's our job to educate them things aren't working as their good intentions hoped. How can they know if we don't tell them?"

A murmur of disgust percolated through the increasingly squished crowd. Who was this strange woman so insistent on her willful ignorance? Gullible Gladys took the skepticism as a badge of honor. A distinguished gentleman, however, took great exception to her remarks.

"Young lady, you must have part of your brain missing. My life is important. I do not need these Nazis to run it for me. I wish to have no part in this act of evil."

"Oh, so it's OK for everyone else to go but not you? You're too good to ever take any orders? I'm so glad to hear you've got all the answers! My word, the nerve of some people!"

The crowd gasped at her amazing and startling insolence only to be interrupted by a Nazi guard making his way through.

"You, come with me," he ordered Gullible Gladys. The cramped gathering erupted in cheers.

"See, lady? You're going to get it now. Hope you're satisfied!"

"Stupid bitch getting what she deserves licking Nazi boots!"

"Hope you get raped like my sister did. Maybe that will open your stubborn eyes!"

The guard presented her to an officer. "Come with us to headquarters." Gullible Gladys was stuffed into a gleaming black car and ushered to the top floor of a most impressive building in the heart of Berlin's power district. The officer introduced her to the small man sitting behind a large desk. "This is Herr Goebbels. He wishes to speak to you."

"Oh, my! I've heard of you. You're very high ranking! I'm deeply honored you would make time for me."

"Especially you being a lowly Jew," he snarked.

A ripple of excitement from the humiliation shot through her. "Doubly so, sir!"

"We can use someone like you."

"I can't tell you what purpose and meaning it would give to my life to be used by you!"

"I must say, you truly are a piece of work." The Miserable German let loose with a rare smile that so ill-suited his face. "We are going to make you Queen Of The Cattle Cars."

"My life has meaning! If only those others jeering me as I was taken away could see me now! They said only bad things would happen to me here. I'd sure like to put a few of them in their place!"

"We Nazis get a bad reputation sometimes from the malcontents that infest any society. I'm sure there were many aboard you car."

"It was downright shameful hearing the complaints! I truly expect more from my fellow Jews. I sincerely apologize for them."

"You are a most wise and insightful person. The others are blocked by their negativity."

"Exactly what I think!"

The two liars recognized a kindred spirit in each other, forming a bond against the recalcitrant enemy Jews who refused the enlightenment of the New Way. Goebbels laid out a mission for her as they collaborated deep into the night. Gullible Gladys was to be shipped to various induction points to cajole, coerce and chastise any victims showing reluctance.

"Oh, my! I'm going to be very busy! No wonder you demi-gods are conquering the world!"

"The future is ours," hissed the little man.

Off she went, fresh mandate in hand, happier then she'd ever been in her life. This is what she'd longed for her entire life: a clear and irrefutable mandate. Before, she'd had only her worthless own thinking to go by. But now she was free to lie with abandon with not only approval from her applauding superiors of the state but to feed the rising notion of her superior morality. Certainly the most heady times of her life!

Exhaustion set in with the grueling schedule and the constant bickering she had to endure from the unwilling Nazi prey who at one point she even deemed to be "traitors to the Jewish race." But Gullible Gladys thrived on her masochistic martyrdom, perversely proud to risk her life for this Great Purpose. "If I must die for this then I must die," she'd pretend to woefully sigh.

On occasion she'd even win a convert to the cause and nothing made her more deliriously happy. In bed at night she'd revel in these victories that propelled her forward even harder. Gullible Gladys could see no end to her bright future, the sky the limit. She lost all tolerance for even the slightest criticism of the camps, Goebbels himself praising her galling and fanatical nature. She found herself unable to stop congratulating herself for her lifesaving positivity refused by the fools of the world living pointless lives. "And they do it on purpose! Inexcusable!"

An underground assassination group targeted Gullible Gladys as she grew to infamy. This was an especially hot topic for camp refugees who'd survived the horrors. "She's a murderer! Both of people and of the truth. She must be stopped!" But it was pointed out by cooler heads that no one had to believe her lies and that vengeance was the Lord's. For on the Day of Revelation, Gullible Gladys would get on her knees and pray with every ounce of her misbegotten and howling soul she had been killed before her act of betrayal.

The invasions on two fronts by the allies and the deteriorating condition of a bombed Berlin were inconvenient facts Gullible Gladys ridiculed per her religion of blind optimism. "We'll just have to make adjustments is all. Keep your chin up!" But when realists determined the end was near there was a grand rush of a final push for Jewish atrocities. That's when Gullible Gladys got her orders to report for camp. Many soldiers were laughing at her knowing the eye-opening experience awaiting her.

A friend pulled her aside. "Hear those soldiers laughing at you? This is terrible!"

"Just wait and see. They think I won't love it at the camps. I'll show them!"

"Boy, you really don't get it, do you?"

*****

A slow, sinking feeling descended on Gullible Gladys, her world turning from color to black and white. The stench of death and human horror as she passed through the cold iron gate of this monument to insanity filled her nostrils with terror. She attempted to utter one last hopeless lie but her lips failed her. A guard couldn't help but snicker. "Danke schon for all your help in this, Jewess!" The rest of the guards laughed and for the first time in her life Gullible Gladys realized why they laughed. She wretched on the spot.

On specific instructions from her "great friend" Goebbels, she was tied to a wall in a gas chamber. Her daughters were brought in, bound to crosses. "Mommy, you told us to come!" Then they were gagged and raped before her very eyes. "This isn't the pleasant experience you promised!" she wailed as a futile protest. The protest only egged on the guards' satisfaction on showing her what a massive idiot she had been. Then Gullible Gladys descended into hysterical insanity as she watched each daughter loaded into the oven to be gassed alive.

After a while she became numb to witnessing the endless murders mandated by the state she had worshipped. For the rest of her living days she would be a prisoner in her own mind, unable to process the regret of letting monsters decide her life. She was haunted by her old self-deception: "Just say they are not monsters and you'll be a hero!" Gullible Gladys screamed as she realized every argument she thought she'd won she'd actually lost. Like Judas before her, she found no recourse for betrayal.

Post war fury boiled over as Gullible Gladys was literally tarred and feathered, her head shaven, and forced to walk nude in public giving the Nazi salute. Gullible Gladys thought the fury of those she betrayed would be the worst fate she could imagine until she felt the absence of it; left empty and alone in a swirling black world of perpetual nightmares she could never cleanse from her soul. Like all pseudo-liberals, she thought to speak well of evil made her "open and broad-minded to new ideas", a "person above it all" and most of all, "justified without question."

The Queen Of The Cattle Car was branded into the pages of history as an example of one of the great Judas's of all time. But even then, the lesson was not learned as the new fascism of corporations rose to power spawning a new generation of Gullible Gladys's promoting the enslavement of tens of millions, hoping for a future that does not exist until the final day of revelation when every lie is stripped away forever. The more you lie, the more you die.

Is It Safe?

[I met the courier by night's relief. He had news that must get through.]

Is it safe?

No.

They are coming?

Yes.

Who are they coming for?

The innocent and the guilty, with equal contempt for both.

The corporate Cheka?

Who else? They have the mandate of the people - they want blood, even if it's their own.

But why??

To cover their own sins they must pretend yours. The more the jury lusts the higher the sentence for a man accused of lust.

How does that fool God?

It does if you see yourself as God.

They call themselves Angels...

Because they are Devils...

But the devils are winning.

When has bloodlust not ruled?

Is anyone safe?

"From the sky will come the great King of Terror"

Only the dead, whether above or below ground. Dead vampires survive by feeding off the life of others. Many are the fools who wrongly sacrifice their lives to the vampires in false hope of being "useful".

A desperate man came knocking on my door.

You can give no quarter.

Then no quarter can be taken.

Exactly. Every refuge will be found out and exposed by ruthless time.

What if I just follow the sun?

The sun's been patented. Can you afford it?

I told them of the dam failing and they called me the enemy.

There's no one left to whom you can blow the whistle.

Then the dam broke and they all died.

As they wished. Nature still has the final say over your enemies.

But I did not wish it. Down this road we all die. I thought I was doing good finding the truth.

The truth was already known or they would not have declared you enemy.

I don't see an endgame. We protect lies so we won't look like fools but in the end that only makes us die like fools.

Thy will be done.

Maybe I should just say nothing if everything is already known.

Making the world safe for greed

Soldiers of silence slay speech with slicing savagery.

I don't want to speak but I don't want to be a soldier. I just want to rest, to go underground.

Back to the other blog? You must do what you must do.

What must you do?

I cannot rest. I have news that must get through.

So there is still something important out there worth fighting for despite the corporate takeover by the anti-Christs? Even though the chains grow heavier every day there still must be pockets of hope. Not every soul has surrendered to the silence! The dream is still alive. Tell me! Tell me the news that must get through!

The news that must get through is that there is no news that must get through.

Aw, fuck.

Glimpse Of a Dead Man

They move in the shadows, observing the living. They must do as the others do to seem as the others do. Baseball games hiding in the cheering crowd, daily jobs of mortal terror, small abodes rarely visited - always bleeding, always needing, hoping to blend their dying hearts within the mosaic of life. Who would they have been? What is their sin? How does this happen? No one dare ask.

Sidney decorated the sun. His lawn green as summer and his outdoor paint right as rain. These were the last great hopes in his life. If driving down the neighborhood his house appeared as well kept and attended as the rest then he'd done his job. Nothing gave him more satisfaction - or more grief - than breathing life into this fiction. Sidney lived for the moment of illusion his façade got the respect he himself desperately craved. Who cares if they find out the truth later on, just please believe for a second before you leave!

Sometimes he hid in the attic, looking to escape the wrong and the right, to be neither home nor away. But those were the worst of times: nightmares of been left for dead in the desert, forests filled with half-human creatures hunting the remaining human, flashes of light having captured him unaware exposed before God and Man. The harder Sidney looked for rest, the less he found. Like any thief, for him a moment given must be a moment stolen. Oh, for the sunbathing daughter next door to return home from college. Her careless laughter never left his ears.

Time was not on his side. Peeking through the window drapes, he prayed for a car to drive by to be duly impressed by his immaculate yard. Solid citizen, that Sidney! At commercial breaks he'd sneak over to the window to check for the thrill of possible life breathed into his lie. As he peered through the carefully unnoticeable crack, the TV blared bikini models with beer bottles on a foreign planet, Sidney's connection to the living world fed through fiber optic cable. He thought to himself as he gazed on his sun-drenched yard: you'll love me if you don't get to know me.

Sometimes he had to make forays into the real world. Though at times the inside of his house fell into deep disarray just from a sheer lack of will to live, Sidney knew he had to keep his bases covered for any potential visitors. He'd bought a Japanese print he needed framed and that meant outside contact in a public setting. Sidney girded himself. Remember, you only have as many problems as they think you have. Bluff your way through, Peachy!

It was like standing barefoot on a frying pan waiting at the framer's desk at Michaels. No one was around as Sidney madly debated what to do. What would a normal person do in this situation? Would they stay or would they go? Am I making a fool of myself just standing here? Shit, why can't someone be here when I show up?? Then Sidney got his answer when the framing clerk returned with a customer fallen from the heavens.

"Magic Chemistry" was the only phrase he could come up with later. The minute he saw Her mad passion filled his body. Sidney's inhibitions melted and even his old nemesis Fear loosened its grip. She was much younger than he but that made no matter. How clearly She was a perfect fit! Never had he felt such a powerful urge to kiss someone. It was the natural thing to do. She was with an older couple who obviously seemed her parents. How could he get passed them?

Inwardly Sidney begged the store clerk to take her time, the longer to gaze upon She and explore this feeling invading his soul. He would just go up to her and longingly kiss and She would understand why. He knew this. So many old wounds would heal in that moment. Unimagined doors would open afterwards. She could carry him down streams to a new and different life. Hell, to actually have a life. Maybe he could do it if her parents weren't standing there. Maybe he could do it if he weren't damaged goods.

Damn!

The clerk turned to Sidney as the trio walked away forever out of his life. He didn't know why She appeared at that moment in his life. He was dying pretty much as he'd always done. The universe knew of this explosive and life-changing opportunity passing but no mortal being. Sidney could barely feign interest in the framing after having his dead world rocked to its knees. What had just happened? Who had he just lost? This he would ponder until his dying day.

That was in February. By April he still replayed the moment over and over in his mind, imagining what could have been. A deep sorrow anchored him to his couch; listless and lifeless, barely able even to change the remote. A real man would kill himself. How can I keep pretending to have a future? On TV a baseball game started. Another dead man - once President - threw out the first pitch to the sound of thunderous cheers. Dead souls applauding another dead soul in false salvation. Sidney witnessed this through the slits of his eyes.

"Damn," he moped. "He's so much better at being dead than I am."

Takeko Battles The Wind

Into the sky a glimmering sword Slicing air in hopes untoward; The honor of ten thousand years Depends upon a single spear. The world her life is rearranging, "These my times they aren't a-changing!"; "I will stop the setting sun "To keep the clan my number one." She holds the hope of an Autumn leaf Not falling from the tree in grief; To freeze a snowflake in the air Safe from earth's melting despair. Are these not glories to behold? To walk in winter un-feeling cold? To touch the sun and yet not burn, Is that not worthy for Man to learn? With her spear she battles bullet But soldiers' triggers cannot pull it; Takeko and her warrior women Shame the modern fighting men. Rushing forward though ready lost Miscalculating the human cost; She rages on defeating foe Only of this will history know. Nakano Takeko superstar Died before she lived too far; Her wisdom buried in sharpened steel She made war on love she'd feel. Is your enemy in a flower? Before your life did you cower? It's easy to say we're born to die But did you ask if that's a lie? Never a sword can change the wind, Never a river that does not bend; She came and left us much too soon Beside her grave I mourn the moon.

Cold Thoughts In A San Francisco Mansion

It started as a little, then became a lot...

It's so cold...I can't stop shivering...stop! stop!...oh god, please stop...if he starts to notice, i'm dead...first he'll know then the kids then everyone...mommy isn't who she says she is...she's lying about being happy...we should send her away...

why is it the better the house the worse I feel at night?...this is the 'it' place to be...I get compliments that hollow me to the core...what time is it?...oh no, the shivering is back!...I can't control it...I can't get to my happy place anymore...I have the insides of a meth addict...but I can't let my problems become public again...not at any price...

did I waste the life given me?...how can that be with a marriage, wealth and children?...but is it the wrong marriage?...don't ask that...don't ever ask that...it has to be the right one...if jesus comes here and says it's wrong i'll rebuke him...bless my marriage jesus and i'll love you forever...I know you will so I won't have to crucify you...i'll give extra thanks at church sunday...

stop shivering!!!...i'll go to a doctor...if I can show it's a medical condition and not me i'll be saved...please, please, please diagnose something...I can't stand having something I can't control in my life...the stress is mind breaking...i'm not the person I used to be...i don't believe anymore...I can't afford a second public breakdown...they'll be on to me I never actually recovered from the first one...that's funny, I said the same thing about the economy never really recovered from the meltdown...was I talking about me?...

why is time not moving?...I sleep with my captor...I didn't go to college just to find a husband like those other girls...I despised them...it just happened to work out that way I got one...I wanted to be a success so badly!...I wanted to show the world!...I wanted show I was a success before I succeeded...then...I never bothered to succeed...I just kept up the act...susan said it's ok to be a fraud as long as you know you're a fraud...but she drinks like a fish...

now i'm nobody...pretending...I feel the cold!...you can't do this to me, god!...you can't take my life like this!...what do a few lies matter?...everyone does it...now i'm shaking!!...this is a nightmare...this can't be happening to me...what can money do?...how can I buy this?...more lifestyle, please...i'm weak, so weak...someone will come along I can't fool...i'll pay them off...how clever I was to leach myself to a wealthy man!...that's my trump card to god...

it's going to get worse, isn't it...soon he'll see the shivers, see how I can't stop, see it's nature's revenge...this is not other people...it's just me...i'm the biggest idiot...I must be to not be making this set up work...why don't I think about love anymore?...love songs bore me...I used to sing along...now I just feel...old...

why doesn't the sun come up and rescue me?...it's like the early days when I was stuck in that office...hours and minutes crawled by like a torturing tortoise...decades later i'm trapped there all over again...can't buy my way out this time...will every night be like this?...just dragging by?...buried alive in darkness?...how can I find a new lie?...i'll be clever again if I do!...I like feeling clever...everyone thinks i'm the shit - when really i'm just shit...that's real success...

maybe this is the beginning of the end...i'll lose my mind to the slow dripping chaos...i'll recede into dementia...i'll be safe there...must be safe...yes, safe above all...always safe for ever and ever...don't ruin it, jesus...don't come back...I know I've asked you to before but now I see I don't...must let me die first...expose the other people after i'm gone...go get them, thy will be done!...just not to me...I never counted anyway...why did I ever think I did?...

Dark Days And Nights Of Bennie X

I'm so sick of just driving around with no place to go...no, I can't go back to that bar...it's too much effort to appear normal...I keep thinking they've figured it out and they're whispering behind my back...I need a place where I can hide...I don't want to go back to that fucking house, it swallows me up...But I'm so tired...wow, look at those people sitting around laughing and eating without a sin in the world to weigh them down...how can I sit among them...would they be angry if I saw a movie there...would I be shunned like OJ...ticket for one, please...I understand if you don't want to sell it to a killer like me...

*****

"Come on in."

"You sure? I mean..."

"Yeah, I'm sure. Come on! Don't be silly."

"Well, you know. You just met me. You'll only want me to leave in the end."

"Come in!"

She grabbed him by the arm and pulled Bennie over the threshold. It was absolute heaven. To surrender to her gave a delicious feeling he hadn't felt in years. He wanted more of that. He wanted that for the rest of his life.

"I got some tequila shots. Only a couple, I know. You gotta drive, right?"

Without waiting for a response she stepped into the kitchen to prepare the shots. What a whirlwind ride! Bennie had forgotten himself inside the dark theater, movie magic working its wonder. He was so moved by the film he had to say something even to the point of striking up a conversation with a stranger. She lived within walking distance in this very upscale urban area. Good things like this weren't supposed to happen to him.

Bennie looked around the young lawyer's décor and immediately felt himself in foreign territory. Places like this only reminded him of how far he'd fallen in his own morose, paranoid abode. Fear's apprehension slowly inched silently towards his heart.

"You like living in this area?"

She arrived with the shot glasses. "I love it. My law degree is from SMU and I knew I wanted to live close by in uptown. This area feels alive."

"Yeah, SMU's not far. And they're building like crazy around here." Bennie tried to keep to impersonal, objective statements. Safer that way. But his sweaty palm taking the shot glass she gave him was a dead giveaway.

"What are you? An accountant?"

Shit! How'd she guess my previous life in finance? "I'm retired. Don't do much of anything."

"But you were an accountant, right?" Her sharp eyes twinkled with an inner knowledge.

Stop asking that question! "Sort of. I was in finance, you could say."

"I knew it! I can read people like that. Part of it is your slender build and part of it is your face. As a trial lawyer I'm always working on reading. Hope you don't mind."

"No, not at all." Bennie shifted uneasily in his chair.

"Bombs away!" She downed the shot. "I don't drink like I did in school. Gawd, I could put it away back then! It was all the pressure. And the sex! I was like a steam engine."

Bennie couldn't believe his ears. Her life path was something out of a book to him. She obviously came from wealth, knew what she wanted, and lived life as she pleased. That was allowed in this world??

"I can imagine," choked Bennie. The mere thought of being with her drove him over the edge, impossible to hide his feelings. How was this happening? Why now after all this time? What had he done to deserve this monumental turn of events?

"Tell you what," she teased. "I bought this new negligée and I want a guy's opinion. Do you mind?"

"God, no! I mean, sure. OK."

"Great, I'll be right back."

How did she not notice I just blew my stack? Her legs are to die for. If I see her in lingerie I'll lose all control. But she doesn't know me. She thinks I'm normal. I'm NOT normal. I just happened to forget who I was for a while. Shit, how do I get into these messes?

When she came back, Bennie's eyes about popped out. He couldn't have created a better picture. She twirled around to reveal a G-string back while the front barely held in her perky breasts. This was her life at this time. Still drinking and fucking but on her way to settling down. Bennie had seen girls like her at college but the thought of approaching one of those untouchable goddesses terrified him beyond belief. Now here he was pushing forty and one of those goddesses was parading around half naked in front of him, getting him drunk like a horny frat boy on a date.

How can this be?? Is she teasing me? "My, God. Somebody's going to be happy. Really, really happy. That's amazing."

"Thanks! It's very comfortable too. Mind if I keep it on?"

Dear God Jesus YES DO! "Uh, no. I don't mind. It looks great, really."

She was strong and beautiful and for some reason wanted him. Where had she been all his life? One encounter with a woman like that back in college would have altered his entire life path. He wouldn't have embezzled or shrinked away in shame from She who mattered most. Could it be he ruined his life for no reason??

What should I do? How can I possibly deserve this after what I've done? This is where I really pay. If I hadn't killed Her I could accept this gift and let it transform my life. Better late than never! But I gave up, holding onto my anger. I wish I could die.

She put her legs over his lap. "Mind rubbing my feet. Those heels were killer."

Bennie popped a boner, completely helpless, completely terrified. If only I hadn't killed...

Her feet were delicate and feminine. Bennie feared if he went any further lightening would surely strike him down. Every fiber of his being was convinced of this. He was stealing all over again, taking what he didn't deserve. Deceiving. That's the only way she'd of let him in the door.

"You don't really know me. I could be a psycho or something."

She felt the way he gratefully caressed her feet. It tickled Mira to think she was saving a life. She knew he needed a woman like she. It would alter his outlook on life forever. She'd had her share of young studs. He probably doesn't understand how he could be picked over them. But she was growing and to be able to give a gift like this meant more to her than the sport sex she'd experienced in school. Mira was on her way to becoming a woman.

"That's OK. I'll take my chances."

"No, really. You don't know anything about me. I could do all sorts of stuff."

"Like what?"

"I don't know. Something bad."

"Tell you what. Let's arm wrestle. If I win you have to do anything I say."

Shit! I should lose on purpose! "And if I win?"

"You still have to do anything I say." Mira smiled a fetching smile.

Somehow she was reading his mind; reading his soul; giving him everything he wanted and needed. But God could never be this merciful to a killer. Bennie must be punished. Yes, this was a test. He must punish himself now to show his remorse. God would be appeased then.

"Really, you don't know me." He moved her luscious legs off of him, never forgetting the smooth feel of this finest of fruit. "I should go. I'm a terrible person. The worst sort." Bennie stood up.

Mira had never felt the sting of rejection in her life. She wasn't full of herself but she knew what she had to offer and did not judge men. Unfortunately, Bennie decided to judge himself.

"You're kidding! I'm not afraid of you. I'm not afraid in the least little bit. Shut up and take off your clothes."

You're really testing me, God! This must be what good people deserve. Wish I was one of them! "OK, I'll go now. Thanks for the drinks and everything." Could you be any more lame?

Mira was incredulous. "You're leaving? You're fucking leaving? You think I'm sort of whore?"

"No. Just the opposite." Bennie ran for the door and stepped outside. He figured he was safe where she could not follow. But Mira did follow to the open doorway guiltlessly unashamed. A man passing by with his dog yelled out, "Hot damn!" - which made Bennie's shame on what he was missing burn all the more.

"You got a shitty life ahead of you, you know that? No one can be nice to you, is that it? Go home and hump your fist. I hope that gets you what you want. I just..." Mira stopped in exasperation.

Bennie only muttered as he slinked away. "See, I knew you'd want me to leave."

Mira had not known a pretzeled soul like Bennie's before. Her youthful ways came to an end that night, realizing not every person acts in their best interests. Though Bennie lived in tormented recrimination, this proved an invaluable lesson to her, completing her education, and enabling her to swim the shark infested waters of the legal profession. She went on to become a star litigator, strong and principled. Honoring what is precious is no game. She'd love to save the world, but settled for saving herself.

For Bennie, his life - now twice as miserable - ended that night. Never again would - or could - another moment ever matter during his time on this earth. He died to appease the gods. The picture of Mira framed in the doorway in her lingerie seared forever into his mind. He ejaculated to her memory wildly, but it diminished as his heart broke. Time had stopped for Bennie but in earth measure it had been six tortuous years from that night to this. He was fading into oblivion.

"At least there I can't steal anything or hurt anyone." Nor can I be of use to anyone...

In The Year Six Hundred Eighty Four

In the year six hundred eighty four
Another useless forgotten war;
No golden silver for the whore
Killing time called begging more.

In forest deep, God has no ear
Bloody blades slay sans fear;
Mother holds her child dear
No dead names remembered here.

In night's river, bodies swell
When asked why, none will tell;
In sunlight air, rot's stinking smell
Mankind's future passed to hell.

How cruel the innocent sun
To spare the life of not even one;
In pyrrhic victory the day is won
But in the morn does sorrow come.

Floating above the battlefield cry
Instrumented angels in the sky
Record the screams of those who die
To give voice a thousand years nigh.

King weeps on accustomed throne
Desperate yet to remain unknown;
Never dare speak words his own,
Illusion be the devil's bone.

Dark world shuns the shining light
Betrayal plotted in blind night;
Dreamless men struggling fright
Run from Love's piercing sight.

No written parchment of this day
Blood downstream slips away;
Wrestling devils fuel the fray
Till end of time be it this way

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

Does Jesus Need A Kill List?

Attack Ordered By the American President

"This evening, Michelle and I will do what I know every parent

in America will do, which is hug our children a little tighter

and we'll tell them that we love them, and we'll remind each

other how deeply we love one another."

Some say mass shootings are bad. Some say they are necessary to survival. Most people say both depending on whether or not they are a part of condoning the shooting (Hi, Chris Matthews!). No matter. I got to thinking who would Jesus put on his Kill List. Judas? Pilate? Caesar? The elder rabbis? Of course, killing those people would not have changed his outcome. Assassination is only for short-sighted morons. I do realize that fact is way ahead of its time so we'll stick to the "pragmatic and practical" Kill Listers we have today.

While we bemoan mass shootings here at home (because it might kill one of us!) with much posed consternation and scripted outcry, but really, who gives a shit? Stuff happens! Most people who say they want a gun for protection only want it to protect their own wrongdoing. Them folks is plumb scared for a reason. So the idea of ending our gun culture by mandate is a complete fantasy. Toothpaste is out of the tube. Born in the USA.

"Now, even as we learn how this happened and who's responsible,

we may never understand what leads anybody to terrorize their

fellow human beings like this. Such violence, such evil is

senseless. It's beyond reason."

Some people think our President is part of the problem as he too has his very own Kill List like any mass shooter. Defenders of the practice say: "It's OK for the President to pull names out of a hat and have that person - and everyone around him - blown to pieces without judge, jury or review. And we certainly think it's reasonable to expect our good and honorable emotionally disturbed and mentally ill citizens to understand that Kill Lists are only OK for certain people." Hey, we pay these people to lie to us for a reason!

Are we a society coming apart at the seems? If we stopped our mass killings around the world would we have a future? Does love require a gun? Our President sees the dead children from these shootings and asks, "Why?" He sees dead children next to an alleged enemy of the state and asks, "Why not?" Can one really have it both ways? With all our hand wringing and moralizing, in the end we simply profess ignorance and throw up our hands. "If only [something impossible] would happen we'd be fine." Hey, I'll believe you're moral if you believe I am!

"For the truth is none of us can know exactly what triggered

this vicious attack. None of us can know with any certainty

what might have stopped these shots from being fired, or what

thoughts lurked in the inner recesses of a violent man's mind."

Nothing liked mutually agreed upon morality to perpetuate killing. Of course, it takes a real radical to say all killing is bad. Perhaps only Jesus would say, "Go ahead and shoot, fucker" if someone pointed a gun at him even if offered a gun himself. Certainly, there is an amazing freedom in that stance. Not saying I could ever live up to that. But like the early Vulcans who sacrificed themselves in the struggle to obtain a logical existence, if enough people stick by their guns (so to speak) it does have a shaming effect that breeds ultimate civilization.

Civilization is something I won't see in my lifetime.

No matter how much we get on our hind legs and point in our holier than thou stance it doesn't mean beans in the end. How empty are our words when mass graves are found in Malaysia, victims of modern day slavery? We didn't shoot them, you say? No, but we turn a blind eye to it for our corporations. And when teenage children are chained to beds screaming in chain rape by our "allies", we punish anyone who might interfere with our so-called national interests. Not to mention cowardly drone strikes blowing families to bits. All these practices could be halted by our President. He does not and no one blinks an eye.

This is our first task -- caring for our children.

It's our first job. If we don't get that right, we don't

get anything right. That's how, as a society, we will be

judged. And by that measure, can we truly say, as a nation,

that we are meeting our obligations? Can we honestly say

that we're doing enough to keep our children -- all of them

-- safe from harm?"

We really can't have it both ways. When it comes to killing, in for a penny, in for a pound. You can't have it on your own terms. It's just a big game at this point with the FBI arming mentally ill people with guns and "plans for attack", then dropping the net how another terror plot got thwarted. We cheer on cue for our delusions. Only there is a connection between killing on the left hand and killing on the right. You don't have to see it - but we do have to live with it. Next time you see a senseless killing, just remember they all are - completely, totally and utterly.

"Let's be clear: At some point [just not on my watch!], we as a country will have to reckon with the fact that this type of mass violence does not happen in other advanced countries."