My son, my dear boy… I miss you so much. When your sister left for Heaven, we cried together and held each other so tight and cried out how unfair it was, tears running in streaks from our eyes.
You flat lined three times. In the hospital I could tell, you weren’t coming back. I asked, what have you done to yourself, boy? And there wasn’t any answer.
You said you saw your sister up there. Told me you ran and played in lush green fields and that your grandfather was there.
The sickness had gone too far. And brain function… Well, I knew you were never fully going to return. The last time was just before Christmas of 2017. You remember? The doctor said your kidney, liver and other functions were beginning to show failure.
It was then that I knew…I guess I just didn’t want to believe it. Kind of like you.
That Christmas — a month later…that was to be our last day together. If I had known that, when we hugged before you left, I wouldn’t have let you go.
You tried. You did try to tell me. But there was a denial in me that made getting your grandma’s phone call the following Valentine’s Day such a shock.
People do that, deny what they see and hear. It’s because we don’t want to let go. We don’t know how to.
I loved you, son. I loved you so much that seeing you in trouble almost from the beginning cut me deeply. I’m sorry I never helped, never knew what to do, how to be a father and a dad at the same time. Because of things that hurt me long before you came along, I could only pick one. So I went for being a dad.
But I fucked up so bad, I lost your mom and that hurt you even more than you already were, since nobody else ever understood you, not doctors, and never your mother. She didn’t try to. Her only goal was control.
Now, eight Christmases are to be passed, and I tell people “it gets easier” and just now realized that I’ve lied to them. I wonder, will they forgive me? Do good intentions or the lie I believed for myself count for anything?
Because right now the wounds are as open and fresh as they always were, as they always ARE. On Christmas, Valentine’s Day and the Fourth of July when your sister went away, those days are dark for me. They stab me and haunt me no end. And I lie to people about that.
Well, all these years since I saw you, I gotta ask, didn’t you know that I was the one who was supposed to go away? Parents are supposed to go first, and you both got it backwards.
I’m sorry. Both of you, I’m so very sorry. You should be here. Not me. Or here with me. Not gone.
And Junior, fathers and sons are infamous for being on different levels, failing to compromise and even to communicate, but I always loved you and I always will.
I just wish I had picked up the phone that day.
And I wish you were here.
Category: Holidays
When We Are Being Lied To
Look. We knew he was lying.
We don’t like it.
But if you happen across this post, and you have been avoiding the news on whatever platform you’d like to name; if you have been avoiding current events because of all the hate on Facebook, I’m going to tell you now that you can’t bury your head in the sand. No, whatever happens will affect you no matter what party you support or whether you are independent.
Your life has been changed. The numbers she’s pointing out may seem small to you, but they are not.
And just to make it clear, the U.S. economy does affect the world economy.
We are buying less. Soon, we will be unable to buy much of anything. We have always had street people. You hear or read about them, but did you know that they include entire families?
They live in abandoned places. Under tunnels. Under bridges and overpasses. In the woods. Old warehouses and condemned row homes.
And all too often, that is where they die.
But, and I have said this many times, more people are on the edge of joining the ranks of the homeless than at any time in my life. Food prices are going up, and I don’t need to hear from expert economists to know it. I’m the one who will eat soup for thanksgiving, and I’m fine with it, especially since I refuse to fill my stomach while I know children are starving. I’d die first.
This woman knows what’s coming. She appears to be resisting the need to say it out loud. I wish she would go ahead and get it over with.
Because if your head’s been in the sand, it’s time you know the truth.
Don’t tell me you’re a Christian and yet you give not so much as a thought to the poor.
Don’t tell me you’re a Christian when your table is laden with expensive foods but you can’t even spare a minute to pray for hungry families.
Don’t tell me you’re a Christian when you support Trump, Ice, illegal imprisonment and orders to the military that would make us the primary beligerant in a war.
Don’t tell me you’re a Christian when you have no problem with killing, racism, bullying, rape, forced child-bearing by minors, and you support an evil president whom the devil alone smiles upon out of every creature in heaven, including the angels, God and His Son, the Lamb of God, who will judge all of us.
Christians do not do what the false ones on the right do. They do not spread nor tolerate hate being read between the lines of scripture.
Real Christians give freely and pray that they can do more to help.
Real Christians love those who mock and hurt them.
Real Christians cry and pray for children who suffer under evil governments.
Real Christians make mistakes and sin. But they know that’s a part of being human. They know to ask forgiveness from the Lord, and that He will forgive, and if they ask for it, He will grant strength to fight harder, because their faith pleases him.
Real Christians don’t know what God looks like. They don’t know the strange mysteries left behind by the Holy Bible. It’s faith that conquers doubt through questions like those, and we have to keep learning that we don’t know everything.
And that we weren’t meant to.
Otherwise faith, the most pleasing thing to God because it comes with your love, would mean nothing.
Jesus once said, “Because you have seen, you believe. Imagine how blessed those are who will not see, yet believe.”
As I fight to regain my self respect and my faith, I have asked for protection from God for the innocent children and their families. For those kidnapped and sold into slavery. For peace.
I have also asked for my friends to be given blessings of health and peace in times the likes of which they’ve never imagined.
Even Marjorie Taylor Greene, who is supposed to resign as of 6 January, a woman I have maligned at every opportunity, has my prayers for the safety of she and her entire family. What she did took courage.
Trump’s lie was outrageous and nobody alive should be tempted on any account to believe it.
But some do.
And even after the revelation that most of the NAGAs in X are foreign to the U.S., there still remain rabid supporters of Trump here. Many, like Greene, have defected. So the danger they pose continues.
I challenge all real Christians to pull their heads out of the sand and fight against evil. First, pray. Twelve-steppers, ask your higher power what’s right.
I’m sick of lyrical sermons in a time when this many people are dying. Your prose serves no purpose, no inspiration for those in spiritual darkness. And if you continue, you won’t like what happens next. You also will not like the terrible realization that you failed to solve anything.
In the past, my language would have been laced with filth and anger.
I’m not going to do that now. I’m appealing to your conscience, your beautiful souls, and your faith; may the Lord give you the strength and insight to be the best that you can be in these sad times.
We Need Some Cheer in Here
My subscribed or following readers have mostly stopped reading. Occasionally I’ll see a spike in views because, most likely, someone new has come across this site and got curious. There are no likes, no comments. I don’t know if they’re enjoying this place or if they’re just confused.
That’s a pity, because I feel like I’m not doing any good. Except for “The Insanity Syndrome,” my attempts at fiction have been dismal. My posts on politics have made me more furious and inarticulate. My life events haunt me. I only wanted to help people, the survivors like myself. I wonder if any of it even made a dent in the despair and dysfunction faced every day by the survivors of childhood trauma.
They have to go on living in a country where they were always laughed at or fed bags of drugs that were expensive but never helped. Family members don’t want to be seen in public with them and the public hates and fears anything it doesn’t understand.
Meanwhile, politics, every bit as corrupt as the devil himself, tore this country apart and the destruction continues. The economy is so bad that people are starving.
The rich get richer, and they have no compassion.
War is happening right now in different places. More of it looms on the horizon.
These are dark times and if you let them break your spirit and steal your joy, they will.
What we need is a bit of pre-holiday cheer.
I can never forget the classic cartoon about how Christmas without gifts or food could not steal the spirit of the holidays in Dr. Seuss’s Whoville.
That’s how we all need to be.
This time of year many religions have celebrations, but Christmas is the one I observe, and usually it gave me great joy until my children passed away. Suddenly, I had only grief, emptiness and a broken heart.
But I knew that my friends had my back, and they were more than helpful. They showed me that a little sympathy and love can become huge. That love is medicine for the soul and the heart. And that perhaps before I faced my last day, I might find some peace.
It’s a lesson I needed and one I must never forget. Their words may have faded in my memory, but the love is always there. I return it with everything I have.
In Hebrews chapter 13, there appears God’s promise never to leave or forsake us. I have believed that, except for in my weakest moments, for a very long time. Yet miracles–which is all I can call them–kept me alive perhaps hundreds of times when I should have died.
We have, each of us, a usefulness to the Lord if we are willing to have even an ounce of faith. And faith is trusting, believing in something when everyone else tells you that you’re a fool, a magical dreamer.
Yet faith is sustaining and powerful. It keeps us going through things that make us cry, make us want to lie down and surrender to death. I know. I’ve been there.
Something in me, something deep, refused to give up, no matter how much I cried, how alone I felt, how sick I was.
I could feel it. I was never alone.
What I mean to say is this:
Right now a neighbor across the street and three houses down is putting up a mammoth light display. It’s going to be beautiful.
That’s the spirit we all need. We have to fight for it, pray for it and then have faith. Slowly, we will feel better. We get back what evil has worked so hard to strip from us.
When we can feel peace, joy and love, we are stronger than any enemy we can face. Once we have it back, we’re aware that we must guard it jealously. And we will.
Christmas lights before thanksgiving? I never used to see that. Now I think it’s a worthy, perhaps even crucial thing to do. The stores want your money. The decorations are up, the candy canes are stocked, the music playing on their PA. I say, enjoy it. Be thrifty, sure, but enjoy the atmosphere while you can. Then, keep it past the holidays as something that can be remembered later as you look back. You’ll know how you got your family through it all.
Weather forecasters are not sure about snow, but say it could be one of the coldest winters in decades. You need to be prepared. I recommend keeping tabs on YouTube channels Ryan Hall, Y’all and Max Velocity. Buy extra blankets and winter clothes. Stock up canned goods.
And let nothing break your happiness. Or your faith. Look at the lights. They’re prettier than any fireworks; and you can gaze at them for as long as you like.
Don’t forget to say a prayer of thanks. I assure you, it will be heard.
Happy New Year, World!
In New Zealand, it is already past 09:00 on 1 January 2024. For me, it’s 2023 for another 9 hours. My wish for you is either late or early. It may be a small world, but it’s not that small.
Signs of caution in Germany, mainly in Berlin, as extra police are getting ready. Their new year is less than 3 hours away.
The Israel-Gaza war has been causing unrest far and wide. Of the war in Ukraine, the world sees and hears but no longer cares.
I’m sorry for this; I could not be sadder about the waste, the dishonorable killing of civilians, and the horror of PTSD every survivor will have to live with every day.
In 6 countries, with Brazil being the most adversely affected, the crisis of the Amazonian drought has reached an explosive state.
The trees are dying, of course, and when they go, sometimes in a very short time (days instead of months), they can’t be replaced. Thick primary growth is vanishing. The upper river can’t be navigated. The bed lay dry, grounded fish dead within. And that is an extreme danger.
Dry riverbed status on the Amazon means that huge amounts of CO² can be released into the atmosphere; the water is what keeps it contained in the top layers of mud and rock. Also, a threat for CO² release is the trees. It’s not a matter of the dead trees no longer producing O². It’s that trees take in CO² and will release their supply when they die. It’s global warming, but this year with a twist.
And it’s all down to a strong El Niño year, which this year is being called “unprecedented.”
That’s because weak trade winds have allowed high temperature water in the Pacific to drift east and hold station. At the same time, equally disruptive warm water in the Atlantic moved further north, allowing colder water below the equatorial region. That colder water doesn’t help produce rainfall. It can cause air humidity to be too dry over the rainforest and river. So, of course, wildfires have burned and will again. It is a catastrophe for the entire world.
My heart is with you all, whether you’re at war, in famine, drought, and wherever accute suffering is ongoing. I pray that the New Year will be better, that recovery, to every degree possible will happen. And that you survive 2024 to meet me here again on New Year’s Eve 2024.
Possible New Year’s Resolutions for the People of the United States
1. For pity’s sake, please stop using the word “literally” in every sentence. You’re being ridiculous.
2. If you don’t want to be called “Karen,” don’t give anyone a reason to. Let’s make this expression go away.
3. Respect LEOs. Mouthing off to police is going to get you into trouble. Don’t get physical and don’t drive under the influence. All drunks are dicks.
4. Please don’t drive under the influence! People ruin or end lives that way. If you’re arrested after taking field sobriety exercises, comply with a breathalyzer test and take your medicine like an adult when your case comes to the court.
5. Don’t carry firearms. Don’t leave firearms outside of a locked gun cabinet with a trigger lock set.
6. Be more careful. Be mindful of others, give them space, and be courteous. The best way there is to avoid trouble is not to take risks with people and animals you are not familiar with.
7. Remember that it’s okay to be an asshole at times, but never a dick.
8. Take care of yourself.
And finally, my thanks and a shout out to all of you who visited me this year, from the United States and Canada, Brazil, to the United Kingdom, especially Ireland, and then to India, Taiwan, Vietnam, Finland, Germany, and Russia and China. I hope that you will visit again wherever you are. Have a safe and prosperous 2024!
This Christmas
Last year was my last year for putting up lights for the holidays. I knew I was never going to want to again, and I was right. I don’t.
It was never the same after my son died.
Why pretend? Christmas 2017 was the last day I ever saw him. That year Christmas died in me.
There’s one more thing I’m not going to do.
I’m not going to repost my usual Christmas memior about my first Christmas away from my kids.
I’m here to tell you that their loss hit me hard, still does, will keep doing so until I die.
But if I can’t say that it gets better, then I can at least tell you, when you lose someone, you’ll never be the same, but it does get more bearable.
It takes a lot of time spent in agony, but, one day only, at a time, you keep moving. You occupy your mind. Maybe it’s more like existing than living, but it beats dying. One day it will be easier.
When you have a mental illness and serious loss on top of it, I can only tell you that even when you’re not able to feel it, you will begin to fight back.
I could have done a lot of things after Junior died. I could easily have found his dealer and killed him. I had murder in my heart, sure. But nobody forced him to take what he knew would kill him. I blame the people who gave him the money more than the pusher. I blame those who enabled him that day and years prior to it. Mostly, it was him. I was a user once. I know that hell. There’s recovery, but no forgetting, addiction.
I’ve nobody to give gifts to. No one to mail a card to. No one who would appreciate getting anything from such an asshole as myself. I have tried, but it felt like buying someone’s friendship. And it never works but one way, and you don’t get the joy from it that you get from giving. It feels so hollow. I’d rather do something to help a stranger in need.
No one in my family will call. I sure as hell won’t call them.
The time has passed. Christmas doesn’t need me, and I have passed my need for it. My phone will be silent.
But I will be at peace. Not completely; that’s not possible, but as much at peace as I can be. What more can a man ask for at Christmas?
I hope none of you took offense to my post about the United States being on the edge of losing its democracy, posted yesterday. I wouldn’t call my readers names, but there’s a large number of folks here who just don’t care about fighting for justice anymore.
Simon Whistler, a famous YouTube guy, lost me a few months back, when he said something was “about as relatable as an Assassin’s Creed game.”
I’ve wondered ever since why he would disrespect his own followers, many of whom no doubt have played at least one AC game. This year I spent mainly on two games; Assassin’s Creed Odyssey and before that, in January, Assassin’s Creed Origins. These games are fantasy, obviously violent, and they combine good, solid gameplay with awesome voice acting. Odyssey takes place in the Peloponnesian War, while Origins is set in Egypt during Cleopatra’s overthrow of her brother with Julius Caesar’s help.
Although fantasy, the stories have a bit of everything. They let you slowly get to know your character, invest in them, and then run you through a wringer of loss and regret.
We have, all of us, lost people who we loved. Covid surely introduced some people to loss way too early, and that’s a heartbreaking thing for me to even write. What’s more relatable than loss? Nobody gets off this blue marble without feeling the darkness of loss, the pain of a broken heart.
I don’t see why a video game has to be derided as being fringe entertainment far removed from music or drama or film.
I’m very pleased to have passed a lot of time this year playing great games and writing this blog, seeing you give a post a like or just visiting, and I’m blessed. I promise, I won’t take you for granted. You Tuber Simon has so many subscribers that he forgot how he got them. I think that’s one thing from this year I will not forget.
Though I’ve spared you from my Christmas repost, you can feel free to browse the archive and find it.
As it approaches, this Christmas has a lot of people unwilling to spend a lot. Most Americans live at or below the poverty level and food prices are scaring us all. We should fear the Trumpian movement, which desperately wants to make Biden look like a failure so they can get you to vote them all back in and “save the day” for America. But they’re not interested in saving anything. They want power and money. They’ll crush this country under the heels of jackboots before they’re done. I’ll never understand why so many seem willing to sit back and let it happen.
People from amazing places around the world have dropped in to read what I’ve written. Some have stopped while others are new, and some probably read one post and never want to read another one. That’s how it works. I’m grateful for every one of you.
As I wish you a happy holiday and give my prayers that you are well, safe and will be at peace in the coming year, there’s one more thing I want to say.
The essence of my usual Christmas post is this: you never know how long you have left, and you never know how much longer someone you’ve loved as a friend or your soul mate will be in your life. Tell them today how much they have meant for you. How much they have made you happy, or even how proud of them you are. Forgive past arguments and everything else; just tell them that you love them. You don’t want things left unsaid. Those turn into bitter pain, guilt and regret.
In other words, don’t be me.
Be well, be safe, and be honorable.
Being part Irish and Scottish, I’d like to pass on a couple of traditional blessings. They come from others but I repeat them here with all of my heart:
May God hold you in the palm of His hand.
May your days be many and your troubles be few,
may all God’s blessings descend upon you,
may peace be within you,
may your heart be strong,
may you find what you’re seeking wherever you roam.
May the road rise to meet you,
may the wind be always at your back.
May the sun shine warm upon your face,
the rains fall soft upon your fields.
Happy holidays, and thank you for letting me be a small part of your life.
The Best Things In Christmas Movies
There’s something about Christmas movies. I don’t know. So many have their moments when they bring us to tears, make us laugh hysterically or just plain hit that sentimental sweet spot. I have my favorite ones, but everyone has their own. See if yours are on this list.
•Joe Pesci’s scream when he grabs the door knob in Home Alone. What a scream, I still laugh at it.
•Chevy Chase making Freudian slips with the woman in the department store. The first time I saw it, I rolled. It’s still hilarious! (National Lampoon’s Christmas Vacation)
•Here Comes Santa Claus (Christmas Vacation) perfect timing!
•You’re A Mean One, Mr. Grinch (classic cartoon special) Have you actually listened to every word? This song is a scream!
•Bad Santa is the worst Christmas movie since Santa Claus Conquers the Martians. Nevertheless, eh. Funny if you’re a bit of a sadist, but he redeemed himself in the end.
•”Merry Christmas! Shitter was full!” (Christmas Vacation) oh, dear lord. No other actor could’ve pulled this scene off. Too funny!
•THIS!
•Rudolph the Red-nosed Reindeer the misfit Toys
•It’s a Wonderful Life ending
•This poor guy from Home Alone
Bonus Content:
We love our Christmas music, and we could talk forever and a day about it. But some leave an impression and never leave you. Here’s a few favorites.
•Never liked this song til these geniuses came along.
As always, thanks for letting me be a small part of your life.
No Comfort and No Joy
BBC News– Police in Waukesha, Wisconsin have confirmed five people have died, 40 people injured, after a car ran into a parade route at high speed. I could have more effectively used the title “The Bloody Saxophone”, because one striking image I got out of this horror was a father picking a saxophone covered in blood up from the street in the aftermath. But this post will be larger in scope than the “Comfort and Joy”– themed parade and holiday season celebration. Because too much is going on for me not to include troublesome and tragic events elsewhere.
We are a species steeped in violence, committed to war, crooked politics, crime and all things bestial. We are depraved, and that’s only the beginning.
I loved writing the post about Pope Francis. I loved finally having something move me to write and share anything touching, good and encouraging. That was a moment that was all too short for me. A moment out of billions that held something I did not need to have second thoughts on writing about. To write about something that didn’t hurt me.
I suppose that with the advances I’ve grown up and grown old watching unfold, I expected a better show than this. But as far back as 1974, I read an article about the future of warfare. It turns out that what I read had parts that have been realized.
Medical advancements have saved many lives but also have placed the price of healthcare end costs as well as insurance premiums well outside of most people’s means.
Mass shootings. Random acts so barbaric that Americans have actually become numb to the reports of them, barely reacting. The five o’clock news doesn’t bother people; they actually watch it while eating dinner.
Guns, from pistols to assault rifles, are more prevalent on the streets than at any time since the frontier days of old, leading into the Golden Age of Gangsters with Tommy guns and BARs. Your chances of dying on the streets of America grow with every gun sold, every car stolen, drug use and trafficking and a full complement of attendant crimes, with LEOs afraid to intervene because everyone has a cellphone and many provoke and dare officers to do anything that they can capture on video.
Some officers do make, and have made, terrible choices. But to have the view that all officers are bad, crooked or abusive is wrong, and the current mayor of New York City is an example of an official who made everything worse. His police force is regularly spat at, and has had everything including bricks thrown at them. They have been forced not to react. The mayor, in essence, gave orders that misdemeanor crimes should not be pursued, that the criminals would not be tried in court, and in reaction, officers had no choice but to curtail foot and even cruiser patrols in certain areas.
In honesty, the people living in those areas, especially those with families, and the seniors, don’t like the cessation of patrols. They lose because outside their front doors, in the streets, it is not safe.
I don’t consider that New York was ever safe at night; Broadway and 24-hour restaurants or cafes being an exception. But Bill De Blasio made everything worse, especially once the city was besieged by COVID-19. His hands-off approach led officers to back off, filled them with resentment and put their lives in danger. The beginning of anarchism lay in streets like a bloody saxophone: evidence of tragedy and the promise of worse to come.
Last week a vigilante was acquitted of murder. He wasn’t even convicted of a gun charge. The trial established that he fired his weapon in self-defense. But to allow him to walk free was a precedent and a green light to would-be vigilantes: go ahead, attend BLM protests with a rifle designed to kill other people, carry it even if you’re underage, shoot to kill, it’ll be allowed, especially if you shoot other white people.
I do not relish this kind of post. Even for me, it is too dark. But it has to be done, and I won’t avoid it.
This year, frosty nights force me to go outside for a smoke less often. But don’t be mistaken by thinking global warming has magically been reversed. It continues unimpeded. The covid shutdown did nothing to “reverse” global warming. It may be true that for the first time scientists could listen to the earth, and I actually saw a star. But global warming continued because the shutdown was too short, too limited and the gasses already trapped in the atmosphere stayed right where they were.
Here in the Mid-Atlantic region of the United States, it’s been growing colder as if November is proceeding as was formerly normal. Well, normal is relative, but what I mean is that when I was very young, warm days did occur in November, but seemed more rare to me. The vibrant colors of leaves were gone by now, the trees almost bare, wood burning in fireplaces had its scent wafting across the community, kids played football, wearing Batman sweatshirts and staying at it until nearly frostbitten. Then guys like myself would be called inside to warm up and get ready for a Thanksgiving dinner that couldn’t be beat. Just like Alice’s Restaurant.
There will be winter. It will still come. And the poor and the homeless will still die because they can’t escape cold and hunger. Thanksgiving programs to feed them are never enough and only happen one day a year. Leaving them be on that day would be less cruel than what they get now; eating turkey and stuffing at noon can literally be followed by a night of fishing trash cans for someone’s discarded last bite of a Quarter Pounder.
We giveth, then we send them forth, back to the sidewalks and cardboard boxes and highway overpasses. That is not remotely humane. It is positively barbaric. Unspeakably cruel. We are not a civilized nation. Not even close.
***
Some of the things my research has led me to predict between 2008-2015 are already happening. For years a coffee shortage has been coming, now it is here. Prices on Arabica beans will sharply rise. This is not limited to coffee and is not caused directly by our global supply chain problems, although it is not helped by the difficulties of shipping. Brazil has suffered a serious drought this year, but that’s the tip of a giant iceberg. As the linked article says, diapers and toilet paper, among other items, are affected directly by shipping troubles. All of this will cost the consumer more on down the road. Remember people hoarding TP during covid lockdowns? Then the empty shelves? You remember that, don’t you? Well…
***
All of that is made worse by trouble in Washington. The government is at war with itself; at stake is our Constitution and thus our democracy and freedom. Should the political right get its way, Americans will be crushed under the heels of a jack-booted dictator and his followers. It can happen.
COVID-19 is spreading. Despite intense protests, Austria has planned a two-week shutdown and curfew. Other countries are about to do the same. And it gets worse. The spike in cases reminds one of the Spanish flu during the end of World War One. The spread was facilitated by the movement of troops during the final stages, exacerbated by troops returning home.
Although far more virulent, and far more deadly than COVID-19, the latter is still killing and spreading. Only lockdowns can control it because too many still won’t get the vaccine. And they don’t wear masks. Airlines have reported a noticeable increase in passenger disruptions, and they report about two thirds of them are caused by idiots refusing to mask.
***
Right now, Russians have massed infantry, armor and artillery right on the border of Ukraine. Everyone in the EU and the United States has pledged to defend Ukraine, and the word now is that Russia plans to attack in January or February. .
It will happen like this: artillery salvos will be lobbed across the border, followed by air strikes, which would be disastrous. Next will come dropping in airborne troops, and the armor and infantry will follow. Since 2014, Russia has been making a war plan for a takeover of Ukraine, and by now, I believe that the Russians will not care what they destroy or who they will kill. I no longer believe that diplomacy can stop it, nor any amount of threats will dissuade Putin. War is coming, and it cannot be stopped.
A British journalist wrote last week about “the Ukraine” and prompted me to look into why nobody else uses the term anymore. In short, this journalist was dissing Ukraine. The article “the” insinuates that the country is not sovereign but is a territory of another country. There is more than one way to thus refer to Ukraine and the government does not like either of them. But is it a problem or mere semantics? Put bluntly, it’s an insult. So yes, problem.
If we cannot even get a name right, it shows a laziness and indifference that translates into a message we ought not to be sending. The sovereignty of Ukraine and the lives of its citizens is under the gun. As countries surrounding it are committing to its defense, they all have my utmost respect. It is honorable, doing the right thing. I hate war. I do. It is the height of humanity’s evil. Sometimes, though, it is forced upon the innocent. This is one of those times.
***
I will not have a Thanksgiving dinner that can’t be beat, like Alice’s Restaurant. Hell, I’ll be lucky if I have a hot meal at all. But as I do every year, I will be thinking about the Invisible People. Estimated to number half a million, the homeless are called “Invisible” because people generally try to ignore them. But more than that, the “estimate” is wrong. Most homeless people are counted because of their presence in shelters or programs. Most do not seek a place in a shelter, and if they have in the past, they’ll stay away. Sexual assaults and robbery are common in such places, and even in severe weather, they have to leave by a certain hour of the morning.
Again, we are not a civilized country.
Landlords have heartlessly and ruthlessly evicted tenants who were forced to stay at home during a covid lockdown. Whole families are out there with no hope for any kind of assistance. Infant mortality is unknown because, who gives a fuck, really? Some parents may even face charges of infanticide because out there, they can’t get to healthcare, can’t feed a baby properly, can’t wash them properly. Can’t even keep them warm in winter or cool in summer. And infant’s bodies are not able to regulate body temperature as a child can. And that’s as far as I can go for now, because babies and children suffering and dying in a country that wrote the words “life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness” is a fucking sin that I hope God never forgives.
What’s shocking is, where are all the good people now? It made headlines when one church announced that it would shelter homeless people. I repeat, one church.
I do not count on churches to do good things. Good deeds. Their furnaces run even when nobody is there. A nice, toasty, empty building dedicated to God but forbidden to his children who suffer. I love Christ, but his followers are weakling barbarians who do not do as he did. They cannot even open their doors to give rest and comfort to those Jesus fed with loaves and fishes. Hypocrites.
In America, we celebrate many things this time of year, from African to Jewish to Muslim and Christian holidays. It should be a time of joy.
It is not. I can’t see it. I see death, war looming, cruelty and good people looking the other way.
This year I will not put up decorations or lights. I am thankful for my blessings while worrying about those I can’t help, but who could be helped by others who simply look down on the poor as being beneath them. They judge and they turn away. They condemn to suffering and death others, while eating sumptuous meals in warm homes. Opening gifts. Hanging wreaths and lights.
I will no longer celebrate these or any other holidays. My capacity for hypocrisy isn’t deep enough.
Why I Don’t Shun Halloween
I’m a Christian. Flawed, failing, broken, but still a Christian. I cuss, smoke and have my own demons and a past that damaged me beyond repair. All true.
Halloween is a time when networks show scary movies and people dress their kids up in costumes to go out and get candy.
Many Christians have no part of the holiday. They regard it as purely evil and forbid their children to dress in a costume and go trick-or-treat for candy. They believe that it’s an open invitation to evil, to incur the wrath and a curse of God.
I was fortunate that my true horror was contained in my house, but I was allowed to go out in costumes and get tons of candy. It was a night I always looked forward to.
My costumes were superheroes: Batman, Aquaman…never anything sinister. And these costumes, by a company called Ben Cooper, were perfect for small kids: a facemask secured by a rubber band and a one-piece costume with string ties in back.

Only when I was made to go to church did I hear that Halloween was “evil”, and for some, it is. My Halloween short story “The Last Soldier of Bravo Company” isn’t getting many views.
But I’m here tonight to reassure you that it’s scary, but there’s a reason for that.
In this awesome article by a church pastor, there is a wealth of wisdom. I hope you’ll read it and understand that writing horror serves a good purpose, when done a certain way. As he points out, most horror stories were about good versus evil. Victor Frankenstein played with being a god and was duly revolted at the result. Dracula taught us that a thirst for power over the grave was as unnatural as we could ever get. Doctor Jekyll was good and bad, demonstrating that we all have both inside us and must be careful.
He points out that many horror stories fill whole books of the Christian Bible. He cites the Book of Daniel in particular; indeed, that is one scary read. But it serves, to some, as prophecy, and others, a terrifying Good vs. Evil story. I rather think, I must say, that it is both.
Today’s Christian is challenged by much larger issues than Halloween. Far-right extremists have always plagued the Church, putting the rest in a poor light. History has brought us to a crossroads; the time to choose between good and evil is upon us and the future has never been more frightening. While faced with world hunger, global warming, a pandemic that won’t go away, what are they doing?
Putting up signs in their windows.
Quite rude and menacing, they say things like, “We are Christians and we don’t do Halloween. Don’t come here looking for candy. Trump had the election stolen from him. If you want candy, go see Joe Biden.”
I would rather die than put a sign like that up for children. It’s wrong. It’s a horror. It’s grotesque and cruel. It’s a veiled threat, and yes, kids understand those. Scaring them like that while calling yourself a Christian is sick. It’s a sick thing to do. It’s evil.
Love your neighbor. Do as Jesus committed his Apostles to. He bade them come to a higher calling, and that goes for all of us in turn.
If you are adherents to other religions, I’m commanded to love you and respect your needs, feelings and thoughts. That is non-negotiable. I can’t sit here and pick who I will love when commanded to love everyone.
However, evil–truly evil people, whether they act in God’s name or not–I know to avoid. I’m weak. Full of temptation. Easily led. And I’m not going to yield my faith to extremists.
So, yes, let your kids dress up. Set the rules, no soaping windows, egg throwing, no vandalism. No tricks. Just treats and a fun couple of hours with friends. Better yet, have a Halloween party. Have activities, pop some corn, participate and make it safe but fun. It’s okay. Reclaim the day as a good one, not for demons and damaging property and using ouija boards.
Be a real parent and most of all, teach the lesson of good vs. evil. And superhero costumes? Princesses, Snow White? Go for it.
Oh, one more thing. Read my short story. There really is a point to it. You’ll see.
I don’t tell you this often enough, but thank you for visiting my site, for allowing me to be a part of your life.
Pat Robertson Prays To Jesus For An Election Result Reversal
Televangelist Pat Robertson has come up with some goofy ideas in his time. He once thought God wanted the United States to assassinate Hugo Chavez.
Aside from the fact that Robertson claims to be a Christian and not an orthodox Jew, meaning that the law would permit execution by mobs with stones as opposed to the forgiveness and mercy preached by Jesus of Nazareth, theres a bigger issue here.
Robertson announced that “we cannot let this stand” and in so doing actually incited rebellion by Christians against the laws and government of the United States. He also came dangerously close to pleading to Satan for him to cease making people believe that Joe Biden won.
Technically this is a misuse of the tenets and intent of Christianity. It, like so much of what he says in the name of God, is heresy.
That’s scary. Heretics, as judged by inquisition in the past, were often executed. Usually in public and by extreme methods. Those who were spared were often forced to undergo torture to determine if they were witches or possessed by demons as well as spreading ideas and views not condoned by the church. At first the Roman Catholic Church but even, and especially after the reformation, it kept happening. Protestants are not guiltless in evil practices now or through their history.
Only today, for the most part, it is not the Roman Catholic Church engaging in heresy, but ultra conservative Christians from the protestant churches. Pope Francis is often referred to as a heretic for being too progressive. That is nonsense; he merely recognizes that all people have the right to seek God and pray in His house. He raised eyebrows when he told a boy that his father was surely in Heaven. The boy grieved for his papa, who was an atheist but had his four children baptized. Watch this extraordinary video and you can see Christ working through Francis. Because surely this is what Jesus would do:
Francis has never liked the actions or the words of President Trump. He knows that Trump is no Christian. I wonder what he’d say about Pat Robertson.
Calling out on television for Democrats to be executed by firing squad was one recent example of one televangelist going far outside the laws set forth by Jesus in his New Covenant. From the days before Constantine, Christians have shed blood and rebelled with murderous results, always against the teachings of Christ, in whose name they killed.
Today, there is genuine reason for concern. In the latter books of the Bible, whether Protestant or Catholic canon, there are many warnings about “apostasy” in the prophecy of the last days. It is even mentioned in Daniel.
Apostasy is, simply put, false teaching. In other words heresy in word and put into practice. And it is everywhere, never more so than the protestant right, the Evangelical churches and in televangelists. I have said before and repeat it here: no one can support Donald Trump and be a Christian. The two are grossly at odds with each other. Donald Trump cares nothing for God, and he panders to evangelicals for their support. Money. Votes. Otherwise he has no use, only contempt, for them.
The proof is glaring: three thousand children were kidnapped by the United States, children of immigrants. Most are lost forever as the bureaucracy failed to monitor and document their dispersal to facilities in various states, including at least one operated by Betsy DeVos. Conflict of interest? Nope. She did whatever Trump wanted her to do.
Then there was the travesty of his foreign policy. A disastrous mess wherein allies were denigrated and enemies put upon pedestals. The Russia scandal was, and remains, all too real. Vladimir Putin had long before compromised Trump through financial debt and illegal dealings as well as a possible sexual scandal. Men were convicted of complicity with Russian operatives and more in the 2016 Trump campaign and more is being revealed as I write this.
The pandemic has offered Trump every chance to make good decisions and to mitigate the impact. He has steadfastly refused all opportunities and instead committed more crimes against humanity, this time directly victimizing the citizens of the country he swore to faithfully serve. The coronavirus continues to spread, but Trump takes credit for a vaccine, a bold lie, just one of many thousands he’s told in the time since he announced his candidacy in 2015. And the results of those lies are tragic: so many shattered lives, so many dead. Children traumatized and forever wounded. Inept, ignorant leaders have gone in and out the revolving doors of the White House. It never ends.
This Christmas season, an important holiday for Christians, is not a happy time. The people who started the year 2020 with jobs and whole families are mourning the deaths of a quarter million kin and friends, they have no food to eat, their friends have abandoned them, and they cannot heat their homes as winter weather moves in. Utilities shut off service, moratoriums on evictions have expired, and anyone proud of what Donald Trump has done is brainwashed or delusional, which should really scare you. There’s no cure for that except the power of the very God so many claim to serve, yet fail to do while inflicting pain and engaging in terrorism through speech and hateful behavior.
The miracle Pat Robertson prays for will not happen. The electoral votes have been officially sealed by Congress and Joe Biden is our president-elect. I find it comforting and hopeful that he and his vice president will repair some of the damage done by Trump and his unholy political allies, but it will take time. They will be dealing with Mitch McConnell, for one thing, a man so devoid of humanity that the words “let them die” have actually come from him. Food stamps, disability benefits, social security and every kind of aid the poor and infirm depend upon to survive have all been targeted by McConnell and others. He’s inhuman yet Pat Robertson and the base Evangelicals back him.
Which doesn’t make sense because Evangelical leaders like Robertson have Christian charity programs, which makes them the super-hypocrites of the modern age.
I contend that these people are not only not true Christians, but that they are frauds who never believed in the divinity of Jesus.
They take photographs and videos of truckloads of bottled water arriving at scenes of recent disasters but Jesus warned, “when you give alms, do not be showy. Do it quietly.” It’s good that they help. But the way they present themselves as good guys in white hats saving the world is a sin, a lie and wrong.
What’s even worse is that some pastors claim the “seed gospel”, a money scam that, once begun, can bilk gullible people out of thousands of dollars. They promise you riches and prosperity but what usually happens is that people get relieved of their savings, and, their faith shattered, leave the church and become bitter opposition to all Christians everywhere. That’s a terrible, horrible way to end up.
People who go to a church seeking God, seeking spiritual help especially in times like this, often end up worse off than before they went.
Now, Christians, real believers, are leaving the churches.
Jesus surely hates what has been done in his name. One of his warnings went like this: “In this world you will have a lot of troubles, but be brave, for I have conquered the world.”
You know he never promised anything else; of the rich, he said that a camel could more easily pass through the eye of a needle than could a rich man enter God’s kingdom. That’s not subtle; the reference to a needle’s eye was a narrow and low city gate. Even a horse would have trouble with some of them since the whole idea of a wall and gate was for defense against military attack.
He also said that anyone who wanted to follow him had to take up their own crosses and follow him while bearing that burden. Carrying a cross was not meant as a separate ordeal in itself. It meant trial, torment, being hated, hunted, scorned, beaten and killed. His charge was to lead simple lives and to have faith. And a little bit of faith can do wonders.
After the events in my post “Attacked!” I asked for help from a Catholic priest. I know he did the Rosary and prayed. Since then no further attacks have happened, and the only thing bothering me is the usual nightmares. Demons love to play in dreams. As spirits, they can do that. And the closer you get to belief and Christian faith, the better the chances are of drawing an attack. Satan doesn’t want you to start believing in him. But when you do, he hates it and goes to work.
In these days of suffering and death, I find comfort that the Virgin Mother is open to our pleas. Cry out to her, and she will intercede and pray for you; this is powerful faith. Pat Robertson doesn’t understand things like that. He’s lost his way, he speaks heresy and promotes hate.
The protests in Washington are all about Trump being wrongfully deposed. Behold, a preacher who holds up a demon as God’s chosen.
Men like Robertson drive and fuel the bigoted hatred they are supposed to proclaim are hateful before God.
Remember what Christmas is really about. Remember one special woman who believes in you as much as she believed in God when she was visited by an angel. Think about love, forgiveness, compassion, anonymity and charity. Help people who need it, and don’t regret it for a minute. Remember he whose life we’re about to celebrate in our hearts, no matter our situation.
Above all else, try not to feel hate. It will never help you with your troubles. It has never served me well.
God bless you, and, for what it’s worth, have a happy Christmas as best you can.
Christmas 2019
I awoke thinking Christmas is a humbug. Last night something was in my house. I was watching a movie. Behind me in the dining room, there was a noise. Something fell onto the table; the sound of plastic hitting the polished oak. I got up, looked all over the dining room, and there was nothing that could possibly have caused such a sound. It was cold by the table, yet because I have a heat pump, and it was quite cold, the thermostat was set to 77, and I was wearing a sweatshirt and a knit hat.
Sometimes I wonder. Time is catching up with me. I know it and I can feel it. I don’t know how long I’ll be around. Sometimes it’s my depression and anxiety; those will fill you with dread and doom. Other times, that’s not it. I heard another sound a few minutes later but couldn’t tell what it was or where it came from. I wasn’t scared, but I felt, time’s catching up with me and someone is trying to tell me.
But today is a good day. It’s been a good week. Two neighbors upstairs presented me with a box of Bonnie and Pops chocolates. They’re out of New York, they’re famous, and man are they good. I looked up the tin I got online. It retails for thirty five bucks. Wow.
This morning I was so hungry I didn’t think I could go all day without using stuff for my evening meal, the only one I take at the end of the month because I’m broke. My neighbor Jeremy and his little girl showed up bearing steaming hot cinnamon rolls. I made coffee and now I’m feeling pretty good (later they brought over a whole dinner!).
Stephanie gave me a Christmas card. I cried (see my earlier post).
Then my very excellent friend Chris showed up. He gave me a Christmas card, and I was overwhelmed. Then I opened it and there was a gift card for the market up the street. And my very best friend wired me twenty dollars yesterday.
Just when I thought I was bottoming out, my friends showed me I’m not alone. I cannot find the words to give any of them the true honor they deserve.
Sometimes, I forget I’m not alone. Sometimes, I can forget the ghosts that try to tell me my time is coming, and I remember that I love and am loved by good friends.
When the time comes for me to get out of here, I’ll leave behind some who will miss me. I’m grateful for that. And for you. I wish you all a happy and prosperous holiday season.
HAPPY HOLIDAYS! My favorite Holiday video. Enjoy and have a wonderful day!