My First Guest Blog

I was asked to write a guest post based on a comment I made on a blog recently, so I agreed based on the amount of hot air I had on the subject. It was posted yesterday, and its link is here, Guest Post: Shattered Dream Of Peace. If any of you get the opportunity, please check it out and give a comment, and thank Daan for allowing me to place my words and thoughts on his blog page, it would be appreciated.

In other news in my life, the band is coming along well. I believe there is no other band out there which sounds like us. Reason being – my vocals sound like no other vocalist. Not being pompous, just realistic. Example; Rod Stewart, not many sound like him – and you can usually pick up his voice. Ian Anderson from Jethro Tull, Robert Plant, from Led Zeppelin, John Cougar, and I think you get the point. They all have original voices. And so do I. So our material is unique. But its also because we have a timekeeper who is spot on, and a guitar player who can sit and write songs with me one after another – such is his creativity. No we only need to hire another bassist. We seem to be Spinal Tappish when it comes to bassists. Any good bassists out there? Anyhow, we plan to get a bassist, and record the first of (hopefully) many CD’s and then send them out into the world. And they are not songs based on hot women, fast cars or entertainment. They are songs based on thought, feelings, and change. Of course I make them sound too stuffy by describing them that way. And they aren’t stuffy. They range from classic rock styling to heavy metal and maybe a few mosh songs. I’m old but not dead, and can use my vocal cords to propel what I need to.

Well, enough for now, gotta go. keep in touch. And please check out the guest post I wrote. Thank you.

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At The Zoo

At The Zoo

I shot this photograph at the Ross Park Zoo in Binghamton, NY. The Ross Park Zoo is the 5th oldest zoo in the United States. Upon entering the zoo a visitor can see that it used to be much more, and that it could again some day. If all our money wasn’t spent on meaningless wars (to satisfy the egos of greedy politicians and to placate corporations) zoo’s like this would still be in their glory. Its important to understand that the more we take away from our culture and away from the children who need places like zoos to learn and grow – the more we cut our own throats as a society. The money WE spend on wars should be put to better use, like education and places like zoos. But WE don’t rebel, WE don’t take government back, and WE allow institutions of education to falter so the rich can be richer.
When I saw this owl, I thought how much it must wish to be back in the wild. I thought that about all the animals. Then I thought a little deeper. No, the animals are probably glad to be in the zoo. Its safer there away from mankind’s stupidity. I almost wish there was a zoo to keep sane people away from the dumbed down masses that push for these wars and allow their government to tranquilize them with the thought that they are doing us any good by being overseas killing in the name of the almighty dollar. That’s right, killing in the name of GOD, because thats what the almighty dollar represents, GOD!

The Press

“It takes nerves of steel to be a newspaper reporter.” Mr. Lambert said.

It didn’t seem like it took nerves of steel to talk Mrs. Delaney’s cat out of the old maple tree on Pidgeon Street; but that was my first assignment for The Picayune Press .

My senior high English teacher, Olivia Gardener, informed Mr. Lambert that I would make a good candidate to fill the junior reporter job when Buddy Richards left for college. Mr. Lambert was a real horn-dog, and Olivia was a real looker, so I got the job. Just for the summer. Of course sometimes you wish for summers that never end.

My first bit of reporting was not glamorous or inspiring. It began with the line; Augusta Delaney’s cat, Whiskey, was plucked from a tree today, by the hands of the new junior reporter Todd Golder. Accompanied by a photograph of Whiskey, clutching my shoulders, and I grimacing in pain. My mom still has that photo. Thinks it’s cute.

That was how my career began. Whiskey made the papers more than once in his lifetime, the last time was in memoriam. He got hit by a school bus full of kindergarteners, while chasing a classy calico across Hines Street. Mrs. Delaney was heart broken. Whiskey had been a gift from her deceased husband.

My career grew more bizarre and disturbing as time went on. I still remember the day Mr. Lambert called me into his office. The day I stood up to him. By doing that, I opened a door. I didn’t know it then, but I do now.

I entered his office, and sat in a wooden chair he kept for reporters, because it was uncomfortable. The blinds on the window between his office and the press room brushed my neck. I felt a dead fly fall down my back. Mr. Lambert was in his chair, smoking a cigar the size of my wrist. He spun the chair around to face me.

“Close the door kid.” He said through a cloud of heavy smoke.

I pushed the door shut, sat down once again.

“Go out to Arnie Spevak’s, and get the scoop on how the births are coming along. Take Smith with you.” Mr. Lambert growled around the enormous cigar, ash falling onto his busy desk, a stale donut absorbing the smoky fallout.

Arnie Spevak owned a cow, Delilah, who was giving birth in a big way. There was a betting pool on whether she was birthing two or three calves. Lambert had money on three calves, and had me driving to Spevak’s farm to update him on Delilah’s condition every time the wind shifted, or so it seemed. Junior reporter seemed to be Mr. Lambert’s term for gopher, I hadn’t been given a scoop since I began working on the paper. That was a month previous.

I weighed up Mr. Lambert’s request, and almost went willingly to do the paltry deed of being nursemaid to the birth of a cow. But something made me confront him, I was there to learn how to be a reporter, not to be an attendant to Mr. Lambert.

“Mr. Lambert, can I be honest with you?” I asked in a concerned tone.

“Shoot kid.”

“I really want to cover an important story. Something with meat to it. If you know what I mean.”

“Sure kid. Sure you do. They all do. Every reporter that wants to make a name for himself wants a story with meat to it. Even you kid. I understand. You feel you’re being used to further my financial gain. Trust me kid. You’ll get your story. Stories seem to have a way of falling into your lap after awhile.” He paused. A cloud of smoke swelled from his mouth. “I like your spunk kid. You been doing a good job. Don’t think it goes unnoticed. Something you’ll find on the street, one hand washes another. Remember that kid , and remember, it takes nerves of steel to be a newspaper reporter. ” Another puff of smoke escaped. “Do me a favor kid, cover this for me, then we can talk about a scoop.”

I agreed, and left Mr. Lambert in his smoky office. I found Smith, the staff photographer, hitting on Nancy Reyes, our gossip columnist. He was miffed that I was dragging him off to “the farm,” as he lovingly dubbed it. I’m sure he would have rather kept hitting on Nancy Reyes, but Mr. Lambert signed the checks, and Smith couldn’t argue with that.

When Smith and I arrived, Burt the veterinarian, was arm deep in Delilah. He grinned, knowing we had been sentinels for Mr. Lambert all week. “Today is the day fellas.”

Burt was right, Smith and I pulled up milk pails and sat awaiting the big event. Smith lit a cigarette, and the vet made him smoke it outside the barn. Smith walked out muttering, “it’s only a cow…”

Twenty minutes later things were heating up. Burt began to coax Delilah in a soothing voice, I took notes, it wasn’t ‘oh baby,’ or anything like that. He just made her feel at ease. I suppose if I was arm deep in a pregnant cow I would probably coax also.

A short while later a calf was flopping in a pile of placenta, Smith was snapping photographs and I was writing the exact time of birth, average description of the calf, and the look on Arnie Spevak’s face as another addition to his farm was brought into the world. Burt reached into Delilah once again, and after more coaxing, and caressing, another calf emerged. Smith snapped enough flash to blind all attending. Smith used film, faster than the scene was unfolding. I told Smith, “save a shot,” but he ignored me. I was only a junior reporter.

Burt reached into Delilah once more, fishing around in the pregnant cow, and after some wrestling with his unseen hands, a third head appeared. And something really amazing – a fourth head connected to the neck of the third head. Smith clicked the shutter button to find he was out of film. I heard him curse, as I pulled my camera phone out and took a photo of the two headed calf.  I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. A two headed calf. “Does that mean Delilah had triplets, or quadruplets?” I asked Burt and Arnie. They came to the consensus that it depended on if the extra head was fully functional. They wouldn’t know right away. So the bet was on standby. I called Mr. Lambert, and told him what had happened. He congratulated me on my first scoop. Guess I never gave it a thought. It was my first real story, a story with meat to it, and it made front page – with the photo. Smith got over it, congratulated me.

Since then I have been reporting full time for The Picayune Press . I’ve witnessed stories I wish I could forget; house fires consuming lives, children brought back in coffins from foreign wars, so much death over twenty years. Murders, rapes, theft, corruption, suicides, the meat of the story . And I wish for days of a cow giving birth, or a cat in a tree, being the most serious story to cover. The days of my first summer, as junior reporter.  

 

 

Captain Imagine

1

    Cecil looked in the mirror, trying to see his back. Felt them. Tiny nubs, protruding between his shoulder blades. Couldn’t quite see them yet. Soon. He kept telling himself. Soon, they would grow. He wouldn’t have to take elevators, or rusted fire escape stairs, when the nubs grew into wings. He could fly out a window; land without a scratch. Someday soon, he knew, his wings would sprout. Until then, the cape would have to do. Very small leaps. Last year, he broke a leg, while chasing a purse snatcher on the subway stairs. Cecil landed on the criminals back. He had to limp away from the scene, in agony, so his secret identity would not be revealed. Then he went to the doctors, and had his leg set in a cast for the summer. He had to stay inside and watch Crime T.V., local news, and re-runs of Superman movies. He vowed to heal himself. A new villain was out there . The news had been covering the story. The villain abducted victims, killing them in perverse ways. The killer always left a mark at the crime scene. Through Cecil’s painful summer in a cast, the villain killed. Cecil stewed in the cast, itching to get out. And now the cast was finally off. Cecil was determined to find this deranged serial killer. At last count, the lives of eight women were erased.

    At the first crime scene the killer’s mark was not noticed by the police. Later the mark was found in photographs. At every crime scene thereafter, the mark was found. The seventh victim was killed using this distinct mark. The mark was a claw laceration, like that of a bear, or a large cat. It was embedded deeply enough to leave splintered lines in whatever the killer chose to claw the mark into. A car was used in murder number five. The police called the killer, “The Claw of Death,” Cecil called the killer “Dagger.” as far as Cecil was concerned, he would not rest until he stopped this madman from killing.

    Cecil dressed in his superhero identity. A pair of black bicyclist tights with lightening bolts streaking down the sides of the legs. A pair of black and white Nikes, (the ones that pump up) and a black shirt with a capital I on the front, in silver, surrounded by a shield of honor in dark grey. The shield was Kevlar reinforced. The cape was black with silver streaks of lightening. His accessory belt, full of small compartments, full of smaller gadgets, each had a purpose only superhero’s could fathom. Unless you were James Bond. Last was his facial disguise, comprised of a pair of shop goggles tinted with a mirror coating.

    Cecil looked at Captain Imagine in the mirror, soon the wings would replace the cape. And as the gypsy woman down on Seventh Avenue told him five years ago, he would, “fly above humanity, as his own entity.” If she only knew about his tender budding wings. Until the wings grew, he decided to keep flying to a minimum. He couldn’t afford anymore broken legs.

    He walked to his apartments front door, shut the light off, locked his door. Unknown to him, for the last time as Captain Imagine. He put the apartment key around his neck on a lanyard, shoving it beneath his shirt. The chain felt alive against his skin, almost supernatural. He rounded the bend in the corridor, passed an old man stooped over a walker.

    “Morning Hershel.” Captain Imagine said to the old man.

    “Mornin’ Cap’n,” Hershel chuckled, “how’s the leg?”

    “Fine, Hershel. I’m going to fight crime.”

    “You get ‘em boy! Kick shum ass.” Hershel said, almost losing his dentures in the process.

    A tall blonde was in the elevator. Long legs, beautiful skin. “Good morning Captain Imagine. Ooh, look, I have a run in my stocking.” She pointed down her long leg to a small run, down near her shapely calf.

    “Why yes, Mary, you do. Hmmm, well, you look very nice anyhow.”

    “Ooh, thank you Captain. Good luck fighting crime today.” She tittered.

    “Thanks Mary. Good luck being a secretary today.”

    The doors opened to the first floor lobby. Strangers passed by on the street, pointing through the lobby’s glass, laughing at him. All the regulars knew his name. knew he was a good fellow at heart, just a little…different.

 

    He headed down the street at a jog. Herbert said he had some information that could help to catch Dagger, as Cecil called the serial killer. The police called the killer the claw of death. Herbert was Captain Imagine’s sole support in a crusade against crime. The police could only do so much, they were outnumbered, had their hands full. Captain Imagine caught the crumbs that slipped through the system. The system didn’t mind. He even had a commendation for his bravery, hanging on his wall at home. He wanted Dagger. He would do his best to put the killer behind bars. No more crumbs, if cake was available.

    Just thinking of someone killing women for sport made Captain Imagine’s blood boil. It wasn’t right. There were so many freaks out on the streets, it was almost impossible to tell who was who, he thought as he brushed his cape over his shoulder and began to speed walk. At his age, jogging was taking a toll, plus he had too much pizza last night.

 

2

 

    Herbert opened the automatic garage door. His laboratory.

    “Morning Herbert.”

    “Morning Cap.”

    “What have you got for me? Do you know where he’s planning on striking next? An address, a name, what?”

    “Easy Cap.” Herbert said, and walked to the office at the back of his garage/laboratory.

He sat in front of a bank of monitors, ham radios, printers, a computer, various tangled wires connected everything. A crammed note board covered a wall, with graphs and charts. A map full of tacks hung nearby, eight tacks to be precise.

    “Cap, I have clues, gossip, hints, at where this lunatic is going to hunt next. But who really knows.” Herbert took a breath, filling his frail sun depleted body. “I have, however – based on graphs and charts, and a map full of tacks, and a psychological profile of this… ‘Claw of Death,’ – found a pattern. One that should have been obvious to the police. Which is why it’s a weak long shot. But I haven’t heard anyone else mention it, so it may be a vital key. Just maybe, he will be caught red handed. Or red clawed.”

    “What’s your theory? What have you figured out, Herbert? Whatever it is, it’s worth investigating. No one else has the answers.” Captain Imagine was curious to find out what Herbert knew, based on maps, graphs, and charts.

    “Based on the sites of the murders, Cap, there’s nothing in common, or so it would seem. It looks like a random pattern, as you can see by the placement of the tacks.” Herbert pointed at the tacks using a laser pointer. The tacks were not equidistant to one another. “There are no comparisons to street names, numbers, the victims are all women. That’s the only noticeable constant. The murders are on foggy evenings, right at dusk. The police know that. The clue I managed to utilize, is one the police don’t know yet.”

    “What is it, Herbert?” Captain Imagine interrupted.

    “If you look at the map you wont see it. It’s not on the map. Each murder has been committed within a half mile radius of a zoo. Not the same zoos, different zoos, always at least within a half mile radius. Cap, you have no idea how much research I invested to figure that out. And that’s not all.”

    “Well, hurry up, what else?”

    “I thought about what the killer may have in common with the zoo, or what the victims have in common. And what the claw represents. None of it made any sense. I began typing in signs of the zodiac, to see if they were significant in any way. Nothing worked out, so I thought, maybe that odd pattern has something to do with the stars. So I checked the computer for matching Zodiac patterns. Guess what I found?”

    “Stop teasing me Herbert, and tell me what you found.”

    “The pattern matches a constellation. The constellation of the Lioness. Cap, if I’m correct about this, Dagger, I think I may know who it is.”

    “How can you possibly know that? Why didn’t you tell me?”

    “I called as soon as the hunch presented itself. I put two and two together this morning, and it adds up. Tonight will be a foggy night. A night where the Lioness cannot be seen. The last star on the constellation, the last tack in the map, is to occur tonight. We need to stop it.”

    “Lets try again, shall we Herbert? You know where, when, and I’m sure you told me who. So who ?”

    “There’s a woman who works for the zoo, with the lions. Donna Platt. Six years ago, she was attacked by one of the zoo’s lioness, while tending to an injured cub. It took her arm, mangled her face and chest also. They amputated what was left of the arm. They couldn’t help the rest of her disfigurement. I think she feels cheated, bet she owns a brace with a five fingered claw. A custom built job. I assume she’s jealous of the looks of other women, and she imagines that if she kills the nine stars of the Lioness Constellation, she will have fulfilled her revenge. This will be her last killing.”

    “What if your wrong Herbert?”

    “At least we tried. At least, we tried to save an innocent life. There’s only one sure way to find out. Within a half mile radius, she could kill without our ever catching her. Especially in the fog. That’s where the real detective work pays off. I know exactly where she will kill tonight. You’ll be there before she is.”

    “How do you know where she’ll be?”

    “Because, you’ll be there first, Miss Imagine.”

    “Miss…what?”

    “Yes Cap. We dress you up as a woman. Boom! Instant victim.”

    “She’ll know I’m a guy. I’m a guy Herbert.” Captain Imagine looked down to where it was obvious that he was a guy.

    “Remember, it will be foggy.”

    “Are you sure about this?”

    “Ninety nine percent Cap.”

 

3

 

    Captain Imagine brushed his long red hair around his face, to help conceal his mannish square jaw. The pumps were killing him, he missed his pump up Nike’s. He didn’t feel very agile, not with heels, or the dress Herbert filched from his mothers closet.

    Now he knew how out of place Mary felt in the elevator this morning, due to a slight run in her stocking. Here he was, in a dress, stockings, heels, a purse, a wig, and about a pound of makeup on his face. Mary had such good looks, a run would never be noticed. Imagine was butt ugly, would have no problem walking to Latham Street park without being mugged.

    The park was six tenths of a mile from Sherburne Zoo, and was where Herbert said the next tack would be placed. Captain Imagine worked his way – painfully – to the park. Herbert had explained that Donna Platt was a redhead, she would associate with Imagine’s red wig, and would make her…him…the last victim.

    Captain Imagine reached down to scratch his groin through the soft yellow fabric of the dress. Stopped himself in mid scratch. He noticed a child with a handful of balloons looking at him with a mean look. Imagine waved to the child. The child shook his head and said, “your ugly lady.”

    The child’s mother slapped his hand and scolded him. “Milton! You apologize to the nice la…” She stopped short, saw Imagine’s face, “apologize Milton. M-maam I’m sorry for Milton.’

    They scrambled off. The woman clutching Milton’s hand.

    Imagine walked to the place where Herbert told him to lurk. He sat on a park bench. He adjusted himself to look like a woman, after he realized his legs were spread like a mans. He brushed the wig down a little with his hands, to lure the killer in. It was getting near primetime, Imagine calculated, as he saw the fog begin to rise in places near the fields and trees. He looked around – to ensure no one was watching – then touched his left breast. The left one was softer than the right one. They both looked similar.

 

    At a distance he saw a bum wobbling his way. The bum waltzed past, dragging behind him a pervasive odor, and clutching a brown bag that resembled a bottle. He staggered into the fog, and it swallowed him and his smell.

    The park lights began to come on, with darkness on the verge. Imagine wished he had his web belt, full of little surprises in the pockets. Herbert said it wouldn’t look good over a bright yellow dress. So he filled the bra cups, his wig, his purse and his right shoe, with weapons. Not ordinary weapons.

    Less than ten minutes after the park lights came on, Captain Imagine thought he heard a scratching noise behind him. Then it was quiet. He turned around, only fog. He waited for another sound. None were heard.

    Then he heard a metallic tink. Instinctively, he reached into his left bra cup with his right hand. He stood up and turned. Looked into the fog. Nothing. No, wait. It looked like a shadow in the fog. Probably nothing. Maybe the stumbling bum.

    Then the form cut through the fog, launched itself over the park bench, knocked Captain Imagine backwards over his high heels. Both bodies rolled across the sidewalk and onto the grass. His attacker hissed at him, freaked him out. He swung upward and caught the attackers chin with a glancing blow, as the figure rolled atop him. The punch knocked the attacker back, but caused no damage. A cold claw of steel came down at his face. He moved his head quickly, but not quick enough. The claw smashed down into the ground, slicing a gash in his cheek on the way. Blood gushed from the lacerations. The claw was stuck in the hard soil.

    The attacker reached over with her free hand, to loose her claw from the earth. While she was doing so, Imagine reached into his left breast. He punctured the balloon with his fingertips, and sifted up a hand of Imagine Dust from the pile on his chest. He threw a handful into the assailants face. He heard a screech of pain, as the woman was blinded. She yanked her hand free of the ground and rolled off of Imagine.

    Imagine rolled also. He got tangled in his purse and dress, and couldn’t get up in time. The killer got to her knees, to her feet, steel claw swinging blind, crimson mud dripping from it. Her other hand rubbed at the salt, cayenne, and sand mixture from her half closed streaming eyes. She saw that Imagine was having it tough getting untangled from the dress. She booted him in the nose with a solid grunt for emphasis. She watched him flop over onto his back, hands clutching his ruptured nose. Blood leaked copiously. She stumbled closer. Kicked him in the ribs repeatedly. He rolled into fetal position, as the killer regained strength, kicking him harder.

    Imagine sucked it up, took the pain, rolled over and over, far enough away for the killer not to reach him. He saw the killers eyes were red in the foggy haze. He reached into his right bra-cup and pulled out the Derringer, ripping the tape from his chest, pulling out hair in the process.

    He spun as she charged him. A growl showed her teeth. Her face a chainsaw mess of welts and valleys. A claw slashed at him. He fired. She howled in pain, fell hard onto the concrete sidewalk. Her hands went to her face. To her red screaming eyes. That was her mistake. She forgot about her claw, lanced her cheek and right eye. Unworldly shrieks of pain punctured the fog. Her body jerked wildly, as the pine scented furniture cleaner bit in, blinding her in even more agony.

    Captain Imagine leaped to his feet, shrugged off his heels, located his purse. He pulled out the walkie-talkie. “Herbert! Herbert, are you there? I got her. I got her. Quick, call the cops. You were right.”

    “I knew it.” Herbert said proudly.

    “The cops will be there soon. And so will I.”

 

4

 

    By the time the police arrived, Imagine removed the claw from Donna Platt’s wrist. He Chinese handcuffed her to his left thumb. With his right hand he administered first aid to her punctured right eye.

    They took her away in an ambulance. They took Captain Imagine in his wig and dress for questioning. Captain Rodrigues sat across the interrogation table from Captain Imagine.

    “Those boob’s you got, Cecil, one’s leaking sand all over the place. Are you wearing women’s underwear?”

    “Boxers, Rodrigues. Give me a break.” Captain Imagine answered.

    “Look, uh, Cecil. You and your buddy Herbert. Your gonna get a lot of attention for this. And uh, well, were all proud of you. In fact, remember when you tried out for the force, got disqualified? A technicality?”

    “Because I’m an inch short of meeting the requirements.”

    “So, stand up, over here, against the tape on the wall.”

    Captain Imagine went to the wall, turned his back to the tape. Rodrigues looked, squinted, shook his head. “Okay. Go ahead, sit back down, Cecil.” Rodrigues invited.

    “Your tall enough now Cecil. You should re-apply. Like right now, I’ll vouch for your height. It’s a lot of hard work – being a cop – but I believe you can do it.

    “Are you serious Rodrigues?”

    “ Captain Rodrigues. And we always need people for undercover work. And you fit the bill.”

    Cecil smiled. Clicked his heels on the floor. Maybe he wouldn’t need wings after all.

 

Get With The Plot

  Fifty pages ago, I died. Fell into a well, broke my leg, went into hypothermia, shock, and died. Twenty five pages later they dig me up, those grave robbing hooligans, looking for a fresh corpse to sell to dissection labs at upscale colleges. The next chapter sees me not in a dissection class, but in a desolate room on a cold metal gurney, awaiting who knows what, because I’m still dead at that point. All I know is, I’m there. That’s what I feel. That’s all I know. I can’t move. I feel tensed up. I have no way to blink my eyes. All I see is open space around me. Cold open space.

Mid-chapter, I hear a nurses voice, cooing to me, sweet and frightening, because I’m dead, and wouldn’t that make her deranged? What am I here for? To stare at the tiles on the ceiling? Why didn’t they leave me alone in the last chapter? Everything was fine there. I met a nice girl, one who helped me understand myself. One who listened. I was really getting to like her. And zap. I walk into a goddamn well. Poetic justice. Always in the hole. Never seem to get out. No matter which chapter, which page, or which profession.

The nurse is some harbinger of Satan, no doubt. She picks me up. In the interim of my death and my new life I have been transferred into the body of a newborn. I squiggle in her arms and try to ask her how this could be. Last time I checked I was a thirty eight year old construction worker named Scott. Obviously the author didn’t like the way the story was headed, so he used creative license to change me once again. Great! Now I’m a baby. I hate diapers. So I tell the nurse, “hey babe, please don’t make me wear a humiliating diaper. I’m thirty eight years old for the love of donuts.”

All that comes out is this indecipherable google goggle. Is that my voice? Ah crap! Why couldn’t I have been born in someone else’s book? This guy don’t know squat about keeping tension within the plot. He utilizes characters in all the wrong ways. Hell…I have been here before . I knew I recognized the nurses face, her nurses hat. So, how has she managed to stay the same? And I get to die umpteen million times. What am I? A floater character? And why can’t this idjit write me into sex scenes. It gets boring not getting laid. Tends to make me uptight. Grouchy even.

The nurse puts me into a little cradle scale, and I weigh the same as I did the last time. So I tell her, “six pounds, four ounces, and not a penny more.” What she hears is goonie-goo-goo and a dollop of drool. She touches my cheek, and tells me what a sweet girl I am. And I instantly lose it. A girl. What the hell? And I stop goo-gooing and start to cry. What the hell. If I ever get out of this book, I will murder the author. He must be a sadistic bastard to treat his main characters this way, the hack!

The nurse wipes the drool away, and I go for her finger. If I had teeth I would have bitten it off. How does she get to play the same part, and I get killed, only to come back as a girl? This is gonna scar me for life. Well, this life anyhow. Who knows what I’ll be next. Probably a dung beetle, or a cockroach.

Hopefully he gets writers block again, soon , or gets a cramp in his wrist because of writing everything out in pen first, (what a dinosaur; hello, ever heard of a keyboard?) or maybe he loses his mind and can’t write anymore. Which will be fine by me, as long as he doesn’t leave me as a girl in his next story, while he’s away at the funny farm. In a diaper! Just like his last story.

The Bottler

A man walks into a bar. But it isn’t a bar. Not by conventional standards. A bar usually has…well…a bar. A bar usually has stools. Tables. The sounds of clinking bottles and clouds of cigarette smoke. Sometimes a dance floor. Usually a jukebox pumping music. And a bar serves alcohol; and peanuts and pretzels in a sticky wooden bowl purchased from a local dollar store. A bar has the smell of old cheese and moldy wet shoes. But not this bar. This bar promises to transform the muddy soul into a solid entity. A sign on the wall to the mans right says so.

    He walks into the dimly lit shell of a room, and stands in a line. A young woman is in front of him, a blonde bob style haircut sways at shoulder length, sunglasses dangle from her hand. No rings adorn her fingers. A tall man is ahead of her. The line of people is varied. Old, young, slim, fat, tall and short people. The patrons all dissimilar to one another. But they all came for the same reason. The ad in the paper said to come to the bar. Anyone who comes to the bar for a grand opening will get a free bottle. ( The word free is a magnet to those in life who feel they must get what they can before someone else does.) So the man came to the bar, near the ocean, and stood in line to get his free bottle.

    The line moved ahead one space. Two more got in line behind him. He half turned; and nodded over his shoulder to them. They nodded back, politely, a middle aged couple. A strange bongo beat pulses from unseen speakers, resonating in a dance of dust motes in a patch of sunlight. The line moves ahead a person. The man bumps into the blonde ahead of him. She turns and gives him a ‘ watch it buster’ look, her eyebrows raised.

    “I’m sorry,” the man says, “I wasn’t looking. I was thinking.”

    The woman smiled, “it’s okay.”

    “Have you ever seen a bar like this? Empty, with a line that moves through a room, through a door on the other side, single file.” The man asked.

    “Mmmm, no. I don’t believe so.” She answered, a smile on her lips and in her eyes.

    “Me neither. Maybe there’s a bigger room – with a bar – behind the door.” The man said wryly.

    “Maybe.” The woman agreed.

    The line moved ahead another patron. There were only four people ahead of him. Seven more people came in the door to stand in the line behind him. When the man turned around, the woman was facing the other way. Her perfume haunted his nose with a lingering scent of roses. It was her turn. She went through the door. She turned around and looked at the man. “Nice talking to you. See you on the other side.”

    “I’ll look for you.” The man said.

     Finally, it was the mans turn. He was ushered through the door by a short man on the other side. His skin had the bluish tint of a Hindu. “Good fortune,” the bluish man said.

    “Thank you,” the man returned.

    “Go down the hall to the door at the end. Your free bottle is there.”

    The man walked down the dimly lit hall. His ears listened for music, laughter, the clink of bottles, but heard nothing, only the slow tic of his shoes on the wooden floor. He reached out and turned the silver doorknob, and entered another room. A large man resembling a Samoan wrestler sat behind a desk. A placard on the desk stated this was Mongo. The man approached the desk. Mongo looked at him, and smiled. “Peace be with you.”

    “Forgive me, but didn’t the ad say I would get a free bottle, if I came to the grand opening of the bar on this day?” The man inquired.

    “Yes. It did.” Mongo confirmed.

    “Well, where’s the bar? Where’s the blonde that was ahead of me in line?” The man asked, “and where’s the alcohol?”

    “She already got her bottle.” Mongo answered. “She will be very satisfied. And there is no alcohol here; only… spirits.”

    “We call it booze, here in the States, Mongo. And what kind of gag is this?” the man asked, annoyed at having to wait in line for so long, for this. “Is this a cult?”

    “No. No gag. No cult. Here is your bottle.” Mongo produced a bottle from the crate on his left. There was no lid on the bottle. It was empty.

    “I hope you will enjoy it.”

    “What kind of gag is this?” The man asked, very angry with this scam, he grabbed the bottle from Mongo and waved it around before his eyes, tipped it upside down, nothing dripped out. “It’s empty.”

    “The ad in the paper said nothing about it being full,” said Mongo, “it said, ‘free bottle’. Look into the bottle through it’s top – you will see it’s not so empty after all.”

    The man looked into the bottle. A tingle passed through his entire body. Sure enough, at the bottom of the bottle there was an inscription; Thea nomattis tulli sforee. the man read it, and was immediately ensconced by a peace he had never felt before. Mongo caught the bottle before it hit the desk. He placed it into the crate to his right. Next to a bottle that smelled of rose perfume.

    His sausage finger found the button on the desk drawer and depressed it. The bluish man ushered the next patron through the door and Mongo gave them the free bottle. And so the rest of the day and night went.

    Upon closing time, Mongo collected the cases and carried them through the back door of the bar, to the beach. He and the bluish man corked all of the bottles to keep the ocean water out. He began dumping the cases in the sea when the tide sucked to an endless horizon. He went back and forth between the piles of cases and the sea, releasing each and every spirit. Free bottles.

The Box

The ferns were as tall as I. Slapping at my face, their green leaves filtered the sunlight, as it peeked through the trees overhead. I couldn’t see my feet, or what lie ahead of me, through the vast expanse of foliage. All I could do was push the bushy leaves away, as I parted them like a green Red Sea. There were no deer paths where I was. The deer had a well worn trail near a deep flowing stream, which was now a hundred yards to my right. I pushed on, knowing at any moment I could step on a large snake, and scare the hell out of myself. Or run into a spiders web, with a huge arachnid in the center of it. Both were possibilities. I felt the adrenaline pumping in my veins, at the thought of such a confrontation.

The ground became marshy. I hopped clods of grass between water pockets. I could see the marsh reeds ahead, they were seven to eight feet tall and made the giant ferns I was among seem like upstarts. I made a beeline for them, hoping I didn’t see any bees on the way, or anything else that can bite. The ground was soft, it felt like walking on marshmallows. The mosquitoes were large and obnoxious, each one vying for my arteries. I mashed them against my arms and my neck, depriving the unlucky ones of a luxury such as my blood. The lucky ones drilled me, then got crushed before they could escape. How lucky is that? I could feel welts on my skin. Nasty little buggars, buzzing in my ears, swarming me. How did she manage to make it through this jungle? I had never seen as much as a scratch on her body. Here I was, mosquito welts measling my hide, scratches from briars connecting those mounded mosquito dots, burdocks and stick tites clinging to my clothes, sweating profusely. Using will power, she persevered, and so would I.

The marsh reeds were true to their name, growing in leach and snake infested marsh. I hesitated at this thought, unsure of how to proceed past this predicament. They say, to face your fears head on, is the sure fire way to conquer them. Can’t say that I believe what they say.

I began oozing my way through the thick muck, sucking mud, lying beneath a carpet of floating ground cover. The mosquitoes were destroying my concentration, as I wondered, were there any leaches on my legs? I couldn’t tell through the mud. The water was sickening warm, the enormous marsh reeds a curtain I had to constantly push through. All I could see was green and golden brown, as I shoved them out of my way. Damned weeds! They tried to tangle my legs, twice I almost fell face first into the soupy goo. I was five feet into the marsh, surrounded by reeds, when I heard a rustling on either side of me. This is how it must have been for her, add the crushing weight of knowing what came next. I knew this rustling sound. Had heard it before. When you have fears, you get to know those fears. Sometimes you know those fears better than you know yourself. I stood still, the rustling stopped. My heart hammered, as I told myself that it was too late to turn back now. I had made a promise, that whatever it took, I would do this for her. Whatever she asked. I had sworn an oath. I intended to fulfill it.

I froze.

The next step brought back my fear, as a swirling black torpedo shot away from me, through the floating weeds. I saw it’s scaly skin, as it weaved between the tall marsh reeds. Shuddering, I pressed on, telling myself it wouldn’t bother me, if I didn’t bother it. Fifteen more feet of this abuse, and I came to a clearing. A large box was at this island’s center. Around the center of this marsh reed forest, sunning on the edge of the clearing, on a small circle of land, were an enormous amount of snakes.

I froze, debated what to do next. Not wanting to bother any of them, wondering, how did she manage to do this? How ? How did she have the guts to go through with this? How did she get the box here? Were we both crazy? The smell of gasoline hung heavy, in the still circle, between the tall marsh reed fencing, and the large wooden box.

hate snakes.

fear snakes.

I was surrounded by snakes, very large snakes. I knew – they knew – I hated snakes.

I approached the little island. The snakes did not move. I forced myself to take another step, expecting them to strike at me at any time. One more step…

…and like a watch spring being freed, they scattered all around me into the water. I leaped onto the dry plateau of land, looking nervously behind me. They sunk into the murky water, to be stepped on later. My heart pummeled my rib cage. Should have brought a walking stick along with me! I exhaled a nervous breath, pushed my hair back from my forehead. I looked to the sky overhead. A beautiful blue, framed by golden wheat heads of marsh reeds. A breeze stirred, and swayed them gently back and forth. Maybe it was the loss of blood I was suffering from the mosquito bites, but I suddenly felt a peace there, seeing the blue and gold and green colors, it was a beautiful secluded spot, where no man may ever walk again.

So this was it. This was where it happened. This was where her world fell apart, where her heaven began, where all the pain left at once, forever.

I took the photo of the rose from my pocket, slipped it through a crack in the box, leaving the edge exposed. Without much ceremony, I said my goodbye to her, forever, lit a match to the edge of the photo, and pushed it into the large box. As the flames consumed wood, I stumbled through the steamy muck, under a smoky cloud, as I cursed snakes that writhed in brackish filth.

She had a lot of guts –  more than most – to come here alone. And die. I forgave her for the snakes, as I swatted a rogue mosquito, who had not got his fill. And said a prayer for her, under my breath. The box crackled, and I knew she was better off.

 

 

Out of The Box

A government that withholds facts from it’s citizenry is as evil as a government that lets the citizenry know what it does to them. And if the citizenry acknowledges what their own government does to them, what does that say about the citizenry? Are we so complacent with our lives that we can ignore the workings of our world and hope someone else fixes it?

Its time for a new society. What if there were a cap on how much a person needs for a lifetime. Think on this; what if there were a magic number that would allow each of us as a nation to have a set amount of money to live happy and comfortable lives. A number would motivate the individual to start a fresh new life. A number would allow ambition to determine how much of that number the individual would invest in the future. If we each had a new beginning we could reverse the effects our faulty government has had on it’s people. How did America, the America I was growing up in, turn into this? It’s almost embarrassing to admit I was once proud to be claimed by the mighty America. But now I have to walk lightly on the eggshells the government scatters for me to step on so they can imprison me and anyone like me, while the real criminals do the damage they do everyday.

Our world encompasses a pattern, a pattern and a routine we cannot ignore. What has the species done on this earth since we became it’s tenders? We have ruined it. We have made it a moat for our children to drown in. Our world needs to change, it’s as simple as that, and only we can do it. Let me ask you something – if you had a million dollars could you build a life? Could you build a life with a million dollars? Could you have enough money if you had a million dollars to last you for a lifetime? Because if you cant, then your greedy and you don’t deserve to be reading this. Move on, and find something which doesn’t challenge your ego.

A million dollars. I could start my own business and have enough to eat and live for a million dollars. That’s the number. Give everyone a million when they’re born, if they waste it they will need to work for someone to earn a paycheck. If they use it wisely they will invest in humanity, solar power companies, wind, water power, transportation which intakes carbon from the air and replaces it with clean air. We were once a great race, why not now, why can’t we get it through our heads? It doesn’t have to be this way. We are Americans, we should tend to our needs as a country before we go off to destroy others. 

Should we agree on something before you read any further? What sense does it make for one man, one solitary man, no matter what he has done for the world, to earn 400 million a year? A billion a year? Five billion? And if he is in a position to help people because his title gives him that responsibility, does that make him worth the 400 million? And if so, how is he helping us by earning 400 million? Do we have timeshare on his yacht, or in his sunny paradise? 

No, and be honest, you agree with me. We work hard, damn hard when we do so as Americans, however, we work hard at supporting a position we cannot afford. We put our children in jeopardy even as we institute laws prohibiting their own parents to discipline them. We build a future comprised of low to no possibilities. And what do we do to change this? Nothing. Be honest. We do nothing. As a nation we have lost our spark. 

We fight wars as the war machine earns money we supply. We pay the owners of these companies even knowing that a part of the government (the Federal Reserve – which is not in the constitution as part of the government) is printing more money to cover it – which we pay interest on as taxpayers. So we pay twice when we have a war. We have a war to free people, as our own citizens die because of neglect. Our friends, neighbors, countrymen cannot afford healthcare. If you had the million the government transferred from your pocket to the war you never asked for wouldn’t you believe it is still a free country? Because that money they spend to slaughter people in the name of Democracy is your money, my money, our money. Our money kills. And many of you lie to yourselves because it helps you sleep at night. 

I’m not saying don’t have a military, we should protect the freedoms we once shared, before they were hijacked along with our balls. We bow to a power that we created. We vote for them to run our world into the ground. We play the game as the numbers build in their accounts and your sweet Aunt Millie is dying because they cant afford to find a cure for her cancer. We shake our heads and mumble as each passing day shows us more corruption. We say gee maybe we can do something, then we lose that train of thought and become lost in the world of distraction. And please don’t tell me this does not happen to you. Distraction is a wonderful tool. It’s what the magician does as he lures your mind not to see what it is he does. As does the politician.

Dissent does not have to be a literal uprising. They have changed the constitution, without our consent, they have discouraged free thought, or you would hear more frequent ideas on how to solve mans simplest of problems – his own mind. Dissent can be handled by alternate means, means without a corrupt private run prison system, or a war. Dissent involves talking about the politics which are failing us. If we each had a million dollars, and we spent it accordingly, others would make money and our economy would prosper. If the investments we made were sound, then the outcome would be world changing ideas, not the same old thing – which we live.

We need to examine how we let this happen. How did man become so stupid that he could booby trap his own world for his grandchildren? How did we get to be trapped as citizens in our own lives? We live a symbiotic relationship with one another, every person, each and every country. If we want to change the world we need to begin here, we need to set examples, not just talk about it. We need to expel what doesn’t work and take radical steps to change our ideals one hundred percent.

The secret is to each have a million. Then the men with 400 million in a bank wont happen. Is their money helping our war? No, it collects interest. Is the multi-millionaires money keeping our country from printing more, thus devaluing our lives even more? No, his money cannot be touched.

The same goes for war, how many have died for the ideas of a few? Do we ask for war? No, but our government does, or we would be making peace instead of misery and death. If we approach what is happening with reasoning we can control the peace within ourselves. Until then we remain the zombies they want us to be, lulled by rules meant to contain not propel to great heights. 

As a nation, and as an example, we need to prove to the world that there is a way to fix our disasters. There is a way for us to repair the damage we have left for future generations. 

Because, (and think about this), if we don’t survive as a country, our race will still survive. However, the survivors will be those who have the millions, as the rest of us starve and do as were told. The survivors will be those who can afford to. Sound unrealistic? It’s happening today all around us. In our own country, the greatest country in the world, we cannot take care of our own people. We lie to ourselves as we get up each day. We take pills to ease our minds so we can kill depression. 

Depression is caused by a state unlike one we could have. We live this depression induced life because we do not communicate on a level pertinent to wise decisions. We rely on the few to make our move.

Each choice does not count in this country. Each mindful person has no clout. We are separate. We have ceased to be a forward nation. We imbibe the unacceptable and make it our own.

Americas’ War On the Poor

It seems everywhere you turn the signs are evident. Debt collection, public assistance denial, companies cutting benefits, all signs that the poor are being squeezed for more than they can give. These are a few of the pitfalls prevailing among the poor and middle class citizens living in America today. There is no more stretching the dollar. The dollar has no more snap left to it. The dollars value has decreased to an extent that even the upper middle class are feeling the pinch. We can lie to ourselves and say it will get better. But do you really think it will get better without substantial change to the way we interpret the business of our daily lives? If you think thats the case then your only fooling yourself.

How do people survive on little to nothing when the prices on goods and services are no longer affordable? One way is to over extend their credit. Another way is to fail to meet their bill deadlines and constantly play catch up. Neither of these methods help and in due time the individuals are indebted to the point of never catching up. This is no way for anyone to live. There is no enjoying the pleasure of life when constant stress and depression over finances tug at a persons conscience, always there, dictating every decision. There’s no way people can save toward retirement or cover health related issues should these situations arise. The stress an individual feels as they slip deeper into a financial crisis is a serious health issue.

So how do people survive tough economic times? They don’t live a life of freedom, the main issue touted as the reason to live in America, freedom. Freedom that our young troops supposedly fight for. What good is freedom if you are a slave to your government? Isn’t that the opposite of being free? We live at the whim of the corporation or the politician. The corporation gets bailouts, the politicians get kickbacks from the corporations, the poor get no clean slate, no bailout, no recompense for the jobs their companies send overseas. The poor and lower middle class do whatever they need to in order to survive from one day to the next. Those with money now, who think they are above all this – be warned – when it all falls down you will be no better off than the rest.

Banks and corporations get bailouts when there is malfeasance in how their operations are run. The poor get higher taxes. The poor are directed to their government social services programs and they take whatever crumbs they are offered. By paying taxes, the poor and middle class have paid for the banks and corporate bailouts. We have directed our lives to ensure that something we will never see is in place for a chosen few. And if your like you then you have had enough. Enough excuses and lies, enough of being led by the nose.

When it comes time to foreclose on a house there is no help for the homeowner. The bank repossesses the home regardless of whether the owner has a place to live. The home could sit empty for an indefinite amount of time while its former owner lives on the streets. But the banks have no heartstrings to pull. The homeowner suffers at the expense of a failed economy because they can’t afford to keep food on the table for their children. The cost of clothing, food, transportation, health costs and daily expenses are so high that many have been doing without. This all stems from the games played by the government, corporations and the banks. And any of these institutions can be dismantled as quickly as they were built if there is ever a revolt in America. The poor are that mad. The middle class are that mad. And the message is a tension in the air. Do you feel that tension? I think government does, which explains the buildup of FEMA camps in the middle of nowhere, the arsenal buildup traveling to bases across the U.S., the buildup of U.N. vehicles stockpiled across the U.S., the buildup of munitions for the military.  I think there is going to be something big happening very soon, and its not going to be good for the majority of Americans. The tighter the dollar gets due to the games of greed and control the more angry the average citizen becomes. And the more worried our government gets concerning revolt.

Meanwhile a group of the super elite operate a counterfeiting group called The Federal Reserve. They print money at leisure with no repercussions to themselves. The more money they print the more the money is devalued and buys less. What this translates to is; now the average household requires both heads of household to work full time jobs to keep a family afloat. And in an economy of unemployment the poor take whatever jobs they can get. So the wages don’t increase because the employers know they can get cheap labor. The poor are forced to take jobs which are below their standard of living because the corporations and companies know they have these people where they want them. All due to favoritism in America of the corporation over the people who pay the wages of the politicians.

The Federal Reserve is a deceptive organization. The name connotes ties to the government but has nothing to do with being a legally organized branch of the American political system. The Fed (as it is called) is very much a counterfeiting organization on a grand scale. But they’re not worried about being caught, as they do their jobs with full cooperation of the American government and under the noses of every American. And have been doing so since they created this operation. Look it up in the Constitution, what they are doing is illegal. We have to abide by rules, so why don’t they? Are our leaders above us? I thought they were our servants, not the other way around. Government was formed to serve and to guide, not to control us by way of slavery.

In the Constitution it clearly states that what the Federal Reserve has been doing since its inception is illegal. The hardest part to swallow is that most Americans don’t even know the Federal Reserve is not a part of the government. Most don’t know the money is printed at our governments request and then loaned to our government to control inflation and deflation. The money is loaned to the American government at a cost and every taxpayer in America pays the price for that loan. The sad part is the poor can pay no more than they already are, and the rich can afford to pay more. But the poor must continue to pay even though the dollar shrinks and causes them to rely on help they would never need if America’s politics weren’t corrupt. The money is paid back to the Federal Reserve with interest attached. Research it people.

What this means is, even if the average American didn’t want that money printed or to pay interest on it they have no choice. Bad enough they have to pay to have money printed they then have to pay interest on it, and it isn’t even theirs. They pay interest on money that goes to the banks and to the government. The taxpayer pays for money which is then manipulated by the government and banks. The deficit rises due to this illicit activity. So while the public works to pay off the debt of a corrupt system the taxpayer falls into deeper debt. This is in effect a war on the rights of America’s citizens.

Average citizens can no longer afford to remain healthy. Healthier food costs more, healthier lifestyles cost more, seeing a doctor is virtually impossible for many people. Employers are cutting benefits for their employees and forcing their employees to find other ways to afford healthcare. In many cases the poor go without, however the men whose systems they support do not go without. This is the justice America serves on its working class.

The signs are evident, American citizens have been turned into slaves by the same institution which was put in place to protect them from the activity going on today. Don’t believe it? Ask a group of Americans and see what the polls say. The average American has no savings or retirement, they work week by week to pay their bills. Some of the bills are over inflated precisely for the reason of ensuring they remain employed so the bill collectors can collect from them every month. Its planned out so every American has x amount of dollars and x amount of bills. If an individual is laid off or quits working they will lose everything they own. This is psychological slavery. Subliminal and yet right in front of the noses of every American who whines and complains and then does nothing about it because they are told they are privileged to live in a free country. All manipulated by the same politicians who tell you they do things for the good of the people who support them.

America has perfected the war on its citizens. The politics have made it impossible to usurp the power maintained by those hired to protect its people. The Electoral College was put into place to bypass the people’s vote. Popular vote by the people, our vote, the one that should count, is surpassed by a vote we have nothing to do with as a mass. And we blindly watch this vote take elections where we have spoken and the words are muffled by the Electoral colleges vote. This is wrong, and we watch it happen.

The government is supposed to work for its people but the tables have been turned and now the people work to maintain a high style of living for their elected leaders while people lose their homes.

The term freedom is only relevant to those who have no worries, not relevant to those who are fleeced for the majority of their money to keep a crooked system going. Soon this must come to an end, and then the new Rome will fall.

My Other Blogs

For anyone who hasn’t checked out my other blogs, here are the links. One of them features fiction/short stories –Fictitious Tales, and the other features photos, essays, opinions, quotes, and my usual mayhem –The Articles of Change. These are posts which vary in nature somewhat. I try to keep Fictitious Tales as pure fiction.

Thanks for checking them out.

Sincerely,

Al

The Shark

 “You did well on the test, Jennifer.” Mr. Freeman praised. “It shows that you studied.”

“It wasn’t that.”

“What was it then?”

“I been eating a lot of tuna fish sammidges.”

“That’s the secret?”

“Mom says, ‘tuna makes you smart.’”

“Your mom must be correct. Great job. Have a nice weekend.”

“Thanks Mr. Freeman, you too.”

 

Abe pulled into Valley Diner’s lot, got out of the Subaru, and went into the diner. Jimmy, the diners owner, swished the toothpick around in his mouth, “the usual, Abe?”

“No. Not today. You got any tuna sandwiches?”

“Sure.”

Jimmy scribbled on a scrap of paper. “You want lettuce? Tomato? Mayo? Pickles?”

“What do people usually get on tuna sandwiches?”

“You never have a tuna sandwich? Tuna makes you smart – fish makes you smart.”

“My dad was eaten by a shark.”

Jimmy smirked, twisting the toothpick wildly.

“Fish was taboo in our household.”

The smirk disappeared.

“So, what’s good on tuna?”

“I’ll have Linda fix you up a classic tuna sandwich. We’ll start you off slow.”

 

The tuna sandwich arrived; along with a side if potato chips, and a mug of root beer. Abe poked at the tuna, as if it would jump off his plate and eat him.

“You know Jimmy, I been a teacher for sixteen years, and I did not know that fish made you smart. That’s how fish-proof my mother made my life.”

“You’ve lived a sheltered life, Abe.”

Abe sipped his root beer, turned the plate and ate a few of the chips. He suspiciously avoided the tuna sandwich.

“You gonna’ eat that?” Jimmy asked sarcastically.

“Huh?”

“Are you gonna eat the sandwich?”

“Yeah, yeah, just easing into it. I never had fish before. My mom told my brother and I that fish were poison.”

“Because your dad was devoured by a shark?”

“Yeah. The way she carried on about that man. They don’t make love as strong as that anymore. No pun. I mean, even after death, she was faithful to my father. Relationships today are not like that. They leave the chapel married, but how many grooms bang the bridesmaids in the rectory, while awaiting the wedding march?”

“I know what you mean. values have changed over the last few generations. My kids got a Mohawk and a nose ring. He looks like a bull with a bad haircut.”

“Whew, okay Jimmy, be my witness, I’m eating tuna.”

 Abe clamped the sandwich between his hands, and brought it to his open mouth. He bit into it and chewed. Jimmy watched, toothpick ticking from side to side like a pendulum.

“Mmmmm, mmmmm.”

“What? What? You gonna be sick?” Jimmy went for a bucket beneath the counter. 

Mmmm , no, mmmm , Jimmy, this is incredible.”

Linda poked her head over the order board.

“Linda, this is great. What have I missed.”

“It’s the pickles, they give it pizzazz.” Linda gushed proudly, her chin in the air.

“Maybe you should try shark.” Jimmy suggested.

“What?” Abe asked between chews.

“You know, shark steaks. To get even for your father.”

“They eat shark?”

“Some do. It’s not bad, I’ve tried it.”

“And you think I should try it?”

“It would close the circle for you. So to speak.”

“Maybe I will.”

He ate the rest of the sandwich, chips, and drained the root beer. He paid, left a tip on the counter, and left the diner.

Further Into This

I have begun to Twitter more. Amassing a new list of friends I hope to spread the message of change for the better. I exist for a reason, and I have found that reason to be helping unmask the disguise we have been led to accept – as the way things need to be versus the way things could be.

We each have the ability to facilitate change through our contact with others. Others can spread a word if they believe there is hope.

I am not a Christian, though this may not sit right with some I apologize to them. Your religious beliefs are not a target for my writing. I believe that if you have a faith in something other than what we are forced to believe then that makes you similar to me. I believe the Bible may have been written as a guidebook, but I also believe we have been deceived and made to think it needs to be used in a specific way. Our religious leaders are using the power of what they have been handed to use for helping, as a way to amass more than faithful followers. There have been many in the religious realm who are as bad as a politician in my book. The money hound, the molester, the user of faith as a shield to perform these misdeeds. But that doesn’t mean there are all bad religious intentions. Which means that I don’t believe that all religious followers are as bad as those who misuse their belief. How many Atheists pursue war? I’m sure there are some, but most do not go out of their way to help others and cause death to do so.

That being said, this is my goal;  ”to usurp the traditional media in hopes of strengthening man’s dream of becoming a world without war, a world where common sense and practicality determine how actions are taken within our society, and a world where we can reverse the ills we have caused.”

We are a society of a species who has no idea who they are, why they are here, or where they are going. Pretty poor roles to play for a species as ingenious as our own. We can do better. We can reverse climate change, we can build a world where our children are safe, we can educate better and prepare for the future by discussing what needs to be done in order to attain these goals.

This is no script, no pre-written statement, this is typed in as fast as I can think in order to keep a train of thought from wandering.

I solemnly believe we don’t know what we are doing as a species because our world has become so fragmented. We no longer know how to approach issues as groups because we have become so solitary as individuals. We have smaller circles of friends and large circles of acquaintances, we communicate digitally rather than personally, our thoughts become lost as just another post, or something someone read and then forgot, much as this post will be forgotten and cast aside after use.

Our world has been treated the same. We build in order to sell, we build cheaply in order to build more, everything is disposable to keep selling and building more. Wouldn’t we rather build and build correctly in order to keep our little planet from dying? No, our larger organizations would rather sell more to retain their financial security than sell less to maintain life on this world for their future offspring.

Man cannot grasp the meaning of the big picture because his thoughts proceed like this; man wakes in the morning, (if he’s clean he showers and puts on fresh clothes) he goes to work to create money for someone else or to pay his bills, he goes home and entertains himself however he pleases, he sleeps and repeats the routine the next day. He listens to what he has been told and believes half of what he has been provided to hear. He says he will try to help change for the better but never gets around to it because just paying the bills is a full time endeavor. Such is the life of man. Sound like freedom to you?

My idea, more freedom. We produce what we need to ensure the worlds populace does not go hungry, we build material goods to outlast any ever produced before, we cut our ties with any financial systems whatsoever. We begin with a fresh slate. I’m not talking about Communism, Democracy or any other political convention (which have been created by man to make them feel secure or to be led by those whose egos will not allow them to admit that they also have no idea of mans supreme goal – remember this: any word which is created for governments use has been created to divert the attention of the masses) I am talking about true survival of the race. I am not saying we can’t have an online, or entertainment, just that we need to make some changes in these arenas in order to reverse the damage we cause by the financial greed we have inherited.

Many of you will think of me as a crackpot after reading this. I don’t care. I am a good willed individual who at least is attempting to make a better world out of one I see destroyed by the conventions of man everyday. I am trying to open eyes to the fact that we can make this change, but we need to question everything we have become, and question what it is we believe we can be.

I believe in true freedom, which means no one taking the initiative to start a war in my name  and calling it for the good of all, when its really a sham to make someone with money more money while their goals destroy our world.

Believe what you want to believe, that is your freedom. Believe your system looks out for your well being, also your choice, believe the media, your choice. Or question why things are done the way they are. Question why your world has been put in jeopardy – because it is in jeopardy – and why the most important aspect of our being here is ignored.

What is the most important aspect of our being here, you may ask. The most important aspect is to nurture our young, to provide a better place for them so they may become what we have not. What have we not become? Free, happy, at ease with knowing that what they do makes a difference in what we will do tomorrow.

Utopia is a word which is scoffed at because of the nature of mankind. We have only been known as killing machines. So in order to create change here are the things we must do: we must change our views on why we need politics, we must create an enterprise of factual media, we must separate entertainment from reality, we must eradicate the manufacture of faulty products created for the purpose of cyclical consumption, we must change what we do to our world on a daily basis, we must concentrate on our role as providers of food.

None of these things will we change. Not because we don’t want a better world, but because we cannot step away from what we have known, what we are taught, what we are expected to believe. We are followers, no matter what you believe, two legged lemmings.

Our green future could be a reality, but our leaders will have no control if it is a reality. Our green future could be a reality – if corporations relinquished their hold on how they could make profit from that future. Our green future could provide health, abolish starvation, and reverse the effects of climate change, but we are too ignorant to allow this to occur.

Our politics were set up for a different purpose than what they are used for today. Today they are ways to amass wealth and then to call that wealth freedom. Our only chance at changing anything at all is to eliminate the need for money, and it can be done. Thinking is the only way to create change, and thinking deeply will show that money has become the key to all we do. A piece of paper dictates who we are as a species. That same paper commands death or life. That same paper you spent to put gas in your car prevents freedom. And on that paper they have printed “In God We Trust,” but god has nothing to do with that scrap of paper. Do you believe god would want that on his shoulders? All the death caused by those scraps of paper.

If you have any thoughts on this rant, this discourse on the failings of mankind, I appreciate a response and will respond back to you. Maybe I’m wrong, but its my opinion. And thats something which is still ours if we allow it.

Thank you if you read this, and thank you if you direct others to it, because that means you cared enough to think about it. And thats all I am asking is for you to think, think outside the rules which have governed your lives.

Thank you.

Nest

The gist of this is plain to me to quell my animosity. 

There is no blame no right or wrong, just a rhyme, a lesson long.

I never was who I’m not – never tried perfections lure. 

I stayed inside this place known best, held my tongue, puffed my chest

When a young bird flies from safety, does it fear to meet the earth? 

What means this, to you or I? I took the leap and missed the sky.

 

Now I fear to try to fly – to leave the nest  that’s in my mind. 

How does trust play in to this? Now I fear the ground I kissed.

Can you see the me I am? Or is that something you pretend? 

If you don’t know who I am, I guess you’ll never understand.

I try to please and now I’m done, allegiance has displayed it’s nature. 

All for one it works both ways, I try to please but feel betrayed.

 

Of the course I set upon, I still believe I did my best 

trying not to imitate, the life I lived before we met.

Now the nest has coughed me out, shown me what the world does think.  

If I fly instead of fall, the ones I love in memory shrink.

My anger lies within the world, that kicked me all my life. 

From the time I was alone, through the time I had a wife. 

 

Now I cant pretend to say, that fear is not in play, 

the fear of losing all I love, is driving love away.

But what everyone else may see, is not the me inside, 

so their business should evaporate – if it they cannot mind.

As far as trust – good luck from me. When I have seen what trust can do, 

even you have shown me trust when you exposed your private stuff. 

 

How’s a man to forget and say, never will it be again?

When birds jump from their nest, 

to test their wings and lose their fear, 

is when they realize that death, is just part of life. 

I fear no death… nor man… I fear what you can do. 

Woman is the test of man, she who leads to noble ruin.

The Idea Pool

 

The beginning of my rambling world changing post

Hi, my name is Al, and I like to ask why. That’s where all this came from. Why leads to how. And I enjoy coming up with ideas. This (I believe) will be the mark which I leave on the world. So please help me to make it a large mark, a mark worth remembering. And when all is said and done we will all have a hand in the changing of this world into what it was meant to be. So in many instances throughout this statement, this idea map, this spark to start a fire ask yourselves why. Just as I ask myself why so many times a day, ask yourselves why. There is no right or wrong if you don’t know, only a grey area we fill in with what we are told. So ask why if you don’t know. 

The nut of this essay is not near the beginning, not near the middle either. Bear with the writer and read through, and you will see what I build up to. The main idea of this essay is the idea and how we must use it. Your skills as readers and writers will help propel this idea forth if you believe it demands notice.

I realize this is a very strange way to begin something I tout as my greatest writing achievement and my greatest gift to society as of yet. But how do we start great acts if not with sincerity and meaning to do well. And there is no format for that. So this is what you get, thinking off the top of my head along with some of the writing I have accumulated over the course of more than a few years. Of course this idea has been building up for many years now, and I found a platform on WordPress which could maybe get the idea out there for people more intellectual than myself to give thought to and perhaps advance. I’m not a church, not a cult, and not looking to gain any financial rewards for coming up with this idea. I want to make that very clear. This is about me, us, and everyone to follow. I believe its time we address what our issues are as a race, and fix those issues. Oh yeah, and I’m not planning for running for office…any office. Though if I am nominated for the Nobel Peace Prize I think I could accept it.

I promised those who have been following my blog something extraordinary in this post. I also asked those who have been keeping up to please share this post. Please pass this post on and lets take it past viral and into active. Lets make this post do what we have not been able to do as a species, start a fire to save the world from imminent destruction. And yes, there is a way we can do that. Which I will get to. But I also warned that this would be a rather long post. These paragraphs are the preliminaries to the actual post. Please share this if you find even a hint of importance in it, and tell those you share it with to share it also. If we each share it with ten other people, and they do the same and we have a fervent belief that it could make a difference, then won’t it make a difference? Again I ask why? Because if the words of man do not make a difference then nothing will.

For years we have listened to our leaders talking of how we will improve as a race, how we must conquer in order to have peace. Yet there has never been peace among the human species. This tells me that we are doing something wrong as a species. Like maybe conquering in order to create peace, using war to bring peace. Something not right about that. Does it sound as stupid to you as it does to me? How do you wipe out half a population in order to be happy? For too many years we have listened to politicians tell us how to live our lives, they have destroyed our media through slanted views and made us complacent through easy choices rather than difficult decisions. We need to make some hard choices. What do we want as a world? Do we want ease of life until we die and then screw the next generations? Or do we want to make tough choices and change in order to help future generations? Do we want to be the stable platform full of purpose we should have been thousands of years ago? Because I think its time. I think its time to create this change ourselves, as a whole, and for the future of your grandkids and theirs, or there will be no future for them.

An idea comes to me

An idea hit me and it stuck. I built upon the idea due to a speech I wrote for a college course in Speech Writing (which I received an A in) and it proceeded to incorporate a topic I had been toying with for years. The speech itself was a success, though it was a tiny fraction of how I felt about the original idea I had years prior. I believe we all have the capacity within us to change the world as we know it. We each have thoughts and voices, and we have opinions. Some of us feel that our voices and opinions have nothing to do with the choices which are made for us. Most of those choices are made in our behalf by those who we elect to do so. Those we elect are only as human as we are, so are able to make mistakes just as well as we can. Mistakes are made, this is why nobody can profess to be perfect. I myself am far from perfect, as you will see when you find my typos, my grammatical and punctuation errors within this text. But I blame time constraints for that, and the fact that I am not editing this. This comes as fast as my two fingers can type, because I have promised something which can help mankind.

We each have voices but rarely use them unless we are talking in private with those we can vent to. We can’t just go to a microphone and broadcast to the world what we want to say. There are processes we must follow. If we aren’t important in the publics eyes then how do we transmit our concerns to the world without being labeled as nuts, or whatever other label they have for people who want to see the world run in a different way. I don’t want to argue. I don’t want to be debated as to whether what I say is true or false. I want to be heard, as do most other humans. My issues are the same as many of yours. So I had an idea and ran with it, or wrote with it I should say. I wrote down the idea as clearly and simply as I could, bare bones, something which needed meat on it in order for it to become. To become what? To become a viable alternative to how we currently do. Do what? Everything. How else can there be change if everything remains the same. So it began, a journey which led me to this post. And the next idea – that as a platform to push this idea I could reach many more people than a simple article could. And who would publish my work anyhow? I’m just a simple guy who knows a little about everything and a lot about nothing. Just a guy who has dreams and a passion to create come thing with his life other than what others have created. I am not a follower but not a leader, I am an individual who believes that by sharing this thought I can reach others who feel the same. Maybe they will have more influence than I have, and maybe they can take this to the next level. Because this is step one, writing this for you to read is a small step. The real work is enacting, organizing, and following through. And that’s something I need everyone else for. This is not a one man project, this involves everyone. This is your time to shine people. Not Americans, or politicians, or scholars and intellectuals. Everyone. But it starts here. 

Without questions there are no answers

The media is over-run with violence, negativity, facts of what we have been told we need and need to know, but how often is what we learn relevant to real change? How many wars have brought peace? How many laws have prevented those determined to do what they will from stopping what they are doing? I ask these questions constantly. And will ask questions throughout this, because without questions there are no answers. And as a living breathing mind that cannot stop I can only ask why.

Why do we need money as a society? Why do we need to follow guidelines set out to define what is right or wrong when those guidelines were put in place by other humans as equal to you or I? Why can’t we pool together to create feasible actions to make positive peace where we can solve problems as they present themselves. If there are problems why don’t we just fix them? Why does it take a law to make us see that some things we do are wrong. You would think that after years away from the cave we would have ingrained in our genes the ability to know right from wrong. The ability to know the law of man and abide by it. But we can’t do that because we have a monetary system which prevents us from doing so. Our monetary system separates us from one another. Our monetary system keeps us detained in our place in life until we can find a way out of that place. And by doing so, we have not time to think, to just think of what the possibilities are before we act. We have no time, because we devote all we have to survival in a monetary system set out for us by those who need to fulfill egos with material possessions. The monetary system is a way for detaining the majority so the minority can decide how to go about ruling. And that is not freedom my friends. That is not freedom. But thats not what this is about. I’m just stating a fact. This is why asking questions creates change. This is how I come about to thinking about ‘what can I do to help.’

Ask questions, when something is presented and you are told it has to be this way ask why. Because if you don’t ask why how do you know if its right or wrong. Only by asking yourself why it is done this way do you realize it all boils down to enrich those who want ti that way. Not because it is right or wrong, but because it benefits someone else at the expense of a whole lot of others. Ask yourself this. If drinking and driving kills more people per capita than marijuana smoking then why is drinking and driving allowed. Its not allowed you say? But it is, because we have a double standard. We have bars on the side of the roads, so how can you go to a bar and drink without having accidental deaths occur? The bars are on the side of the road and drinking and driving kills, why? Because it is a form of entertainment which is allowed even though it kills and is known to kill. Marijuana smokers, how many people were killed while driving while stoned? How does injury to ones self make it illegal but injury to others is permissible due to the amount of tax revenue it produces. 

These are all common sense questions. Why is logic based around money and not the other way around? And why is money so important that we would kill someone over it? Its only a scrap of paper, only a piece of metal, you can’t eat it, you can’t wrap a wound with it or catch a fish with it. I know, I’m out of hand, and speaking nonsense, because as we all know money is all powerful. Money is god to most people, in fact on United States currency it states, “In God We Trust,” so what does god have to do with the currency? Question everything and you will know more than you are supposed to.

The value of thought

Some of my ideas seem radical, and indeed I could be considered a bit of a radical thinker because I believe the ways we follow are corrupt and will lead us to a desolate end if we aren’t careful. Though my ideas carry one common thread – rebuilding humanity. (Perhaps I should have been a social engineer). Most people don’t know that humanity is broken. How easy it is to miss that fact, when our blinders have been on for so long. 

I have always been an idea man. Never a salesman or a politician, an idea man. I withhold many of my ideas in case they are rejected by others. Gratitude is in the listening, not necessarily in the understanding. Very often I leave my ideas and observations inside. I used to think ‘let society muddle in their own quagmires, much as I muddle in my own,’ but thats why we have drifted apart as a species, because of people who think like that. Society is blurred by the real and the surreal, the only way to un-blur it is to focus. Focus on the facts and society will sharpen. Much as the common thread ties my ideas together which lends them more credence, a similar thread must be sewn into the fabric of our society. It begins with each and every individual.

This is not mandatory, (helping others), I would never infer that. Everyone has a choice, you can say no, he can say no, she can say no, I can say no. Then the thread is cut. By choice we must all make the decision to change, and sew the thread into societies fabric. By choice man has already decided to condemn himself. We all know that our population increase has doomed us. The next generation, is relying on answers now, not twenty to fifty years from now. What happens to a planet of separate tribes trying to compete for what is left in order to survive? Simple, the weakest tribes get annihilated. Much as animals will do in nature. The difference is, animals are not thinkers in the way that man is. Man is a thinker. He knows he can not intentionally obliterate mass amounts of people, and yet he does. And nature obliterates as well, if nature knows that a species is no longer on a food chains priority list. 

Man cannot decide to wipe out entire tribes, but who says they’re not thinking about it? War is a convenient means to eradicate. So are chemicals and legal drugs. Man looks away as societies are wiped out so that new societies are built. If you don’t believe this, then question what I write. As many die in Africa, and commercials are made pleading to us to give to save the children (now honestly ask yourselves this, and come up with an answer) how come we spend trillions on wars to gain mineral rights instead of trying to feed these starving countries, these diseased people, these souls we can make commercials about but our government can’t help? If these people are starving do we save them or let them die off? We let them die off. Why? Because the wars are more important than saving lives. Money trumps humanity.

So here is a question to ask yourself now; Do I want to rebuild what generations within our own history have sloppily built and then intentionally destroyed? My answer, yes, I do. If I can reach a goal that will give everyone the chance to make their life count. I want the next generation to be better than the generation before me. I can make a valid difference in this world. Knowing this world belongs to our children and that I have no right to mess it up further than it already is, I know I need to stop the madness we perpetuate. I cannot sit back and be the number they want me to be. I cannot show no sign of effort in trying to help us regain our dignity as a species. I cannot watch as we delve deeper in the craft of destruction rather than the art of healing. How much of our money goes toward reversing what we have done as a destructive species? Our advancement is fundamentally to give ourselves comfort, to forget the dying on other continents, and with that comfort comes complacency. Our advancement propels a glorious avalanche of human materialism and knowledge disassociation to the precipice. Even animals have the common sense to respect their surroundings. Do you think animals are impressed by our advancements as a society? I have yet to see a white-tailed deer enjoy a car.

Man can succeed as a race, but he wont. Success doesn’t mean that someone has to over-achieve, only that they have achieved. And what have our world governments done for us, to make headway on issues we face everyday? 

The difference between my ideas and how to act upon them and the governments ideas and how to act upon them? I cut out the middle man in my scenarios. i exhibit how man can help himself by helping others at the same time. There are many ways this can happen. They are all painless and incorporate what mankind has lacked throughout his stay on this globe. What would that be?

Solidarity as a unit.

We would not live as enemies, and not in the form of a controlled state. If we need people to tell us what to do doesn’t that mean we are not living up to the standards we should set for ourselves? Animals have a hierarchy based on knowledge, age, strength, survival wisdom, and common sense. We humans have a hierarchy based on wealth, power, avarice, control, ego and life. We are considered the smarter species, but the animal kingdom makes us look ridiculously stupid. Though the animals have not won power of the planet, they are smarter than us. We have ensured through our folly as destroyers – which we are – that no one wins peace or safety. In the end no one wins, because the human race can be compared to a swarm of locusts across the face of the earth.

Man could succeed as a race, but he won’t, he can’t help himself. If what man knows was not inherited through mimicry then it seems that man cannot do it. The things man builds have consumed him. They have made him feel the need to do this and that. Which make our products our controllers. They have made him need this to do that, and one of those so this would be much better, and if that didn’t work the next version will be better. Before you know it there’s a pile of them on the ground, and the pile grows as the product gets better. Then it becomes a fad, so everyone needs one, so they throw their old ones away. But don’t worry, because it was recycled. And we only tore up the earth to make another, and another, and another.We need to regulate quality before we manufacture. Quickly. Or you (hopefully) see where I’m going with this. We need to decide now, the politicians don’t need to decide, because they will decide on the side of big business. We need to decide as people, as parents, as individuals and as a group. Do you want our race to continue? Do you want your children, their children, to live? Or would you rather say, “aw hell with it lets just destroy it the rest of the way and put them out of their misery.” Decisions must be made. Are comfort and fads our destiny? They are if corporations have their way. Is the meaning of life a gigantic television? A silk shirt? Designer sunglasses? Or are we only trying to impress our fellow primates?

We need to take control, turn it around three sixty, and now. We need to undercut the governments control over situations which we as citizens should be undertaking. If we undertake these measures ourselves the bureaucratic engine is then forced to lower the costs it charges us for services it will no longer need to render. It’s wars will be meaningless and fizzle out, because we would control that. This means our race will stand as a whole. Work as a whole. Not as a whore – where it stands right now. There are measures which can be taken that could turn any crisis into triumph, any disaster into a small hurdle. I could have managed Hurricane Katrina better from home while watching CNN than our government did from their very expensive comfortable positions in the White House. 

Once, I believed. I believed only an intelligent man could rise to become president. Now I know otherwise.The political position is run by the value of money, not pride in rising above, or change for the better. If you have lots of money, or friends with lots of money, you can be president. If your smart and poor it doesn’t matter that you could change the world because you won’t get the opportunity. They are too comfortable in their power to allow ordinary men disturb their equilibrium. What would a changed world do to our worlds governments? What would a changed world do for you or I? A changed world would expose those with no knowledge of common sense.

Money isn’t everything. Where do you want your child to be when they become your age? We need to turn it all around. It’s not brain surgery, though there may be some un-brainwashing involved in the process. It all starts with answering some questions which I wrote within this essay. 

America needs to be the first, because currently we are the worst. We set poor examples, our morale is at an all time low. If change doesn’t come all is lost. When our children and their children wonder why the world is full of pollution, death, government and corporation controlling their lives, it will be on our shoulders. Don’t rely on government – they want you to. As for this play I write, the plot evolves daily.

The Idea Pool

What was the last good idea you had? Did you act upon that idea or abandon it for no good reason? Did it seem like an idea which could be viewed as relevant for the good of mankind? As water is akin to the sponge – ideas are fertile within my mind. Extraordinary ideas, thoughts which seem simple even though there are extraneous details – like the crevices and cells in the sponge. There are always details – the detail, the red tape of the simple idea. Then its not quite as simple anymore.

I write my simple ideas into paper. I don’t pay much attention to the details of the idea because the idea is what counts, the details can come later. An idea is a thought without the intrusion of the details. The details can damage the ideas innocence and simplicity. Details demand that I search for facts. It is imperative to the details that I substantiate why my idea is a way toward betterment of mankind versus just another hackneyed thought wiggling its way out of my head. The details can be hounds hot on the trail of possible failure of the idea, or the details can be what makes the idea shine. 

Its not easy being an idea man, details, red tape bogging down the simplest of thoughts and ideas, and common sense being ignored by those who wish to shun the idea, all weigh on my mind. When I was young it was so simple. I would sit on the porch on a serene summer night listening to the crickets sing and counting the stars. I would stare up at the milky way galaxy and wonder why the adults I knew in everyday life were so stupid. As an adult I feel the same way as I did then, wondering why people can allow themselves to be so stupid. Why is it not evident to adults that by using common sense as a group we could overcome anything we have already set into motion. Quite simply, by using our imaginations. By being true to a simple idea and mulling over the details until a cogent solution rattles free for all to clearly see the benefits of, we can resolve problems that we have created. We can even mold the red tape to not be so inflexible. 

My ideas always start with a what if. What if airplanes were designed differently? What if a section of plane were able to gently glide to safety under a large parachute so it would not crash? What if a series of controls could divorce the wings, nose, tail and cargo holds from the plane, allowing the cabin to descend under this parachute and in turn save lives? Not one of my best ideas, it came to me while typing this, so the details haven’t had time to plague me yet with the red tape. I simply stated what if. And answered myself with a solution that could be explored.

Most of the ideas which come to my mind involve thought on how we can right the wrongs we have perpetuated within our lifetimes. The garbage solution, a legacy bestowed upon us by our parents generation. The war solution, bestowed upon us by those who feel they need to be superior to anything that walks, crawls or flies over marked territories. The crisis of mismanaged government (which is why I need to come up with world changing ideas to begin with), the healthcare crisis, which is a scam all the way around. And the lack of financing for the cures of diseases such as Cancer, A.L.S., Alzheimers, spinal cord injuries, and others. Many of these could be solved if we put the money from war related activities into research for cures. We have the resources, we have the technology and the mind power, the ideas are there. The red tape is not insurmountable, but the group mentality has not been cemented into place. And it needs to be.

There are many who are too comfortable and care less whether these issues are corrected. Some people thrive on war. Some thrive on the healthcare scam being misguided. Some say there will always be garbage. Some say who cares, it won’t impact my lifetime, let the future handle it. Some don’t care about Cancer as long as it doesn’t plague them. And as far as the government which is mismanaged seems to be the stitch that holds good ideas from floating free. 

If I were to tell you that rocketing around in my cranium is an idea that could convince an entire globe of citizens that with one step of an idea we (as a whole) could cure our planets slow death would you believe me? I’m betting you wouldn’t. Because we have been trained to accept honest acceptance of positive change to be fantasy. Real change frightens people. Would you shrug the idea off even before you heard it? That is what we need to overcome as a society of thinkers. The not hearing it first before a decision is made mentality needs to be changed. 

What if? What if I informed you there was a way we could find a cure for our largest killing diseases within a twenty year span? Or that we could derail diseases within an individuals D.N.A.? Would you believe it? Would you at least accept it as a valid idea to think about? As long as there is a question there has to be an answer. Or why would the question exist? Sometimes the answers are elusive, sometimes they are right in our face. As a person who poses these questions I also seek the answers. By postulating questions I gain insightful ideas. There is a way we can cure all our dangerous diseases within a twenty year span through D.N.A. research. Don’t believe it? Then tell me why.

For every cure there is a cost. That seems to be the stumbling block within every idea surrounding my thinking. For every good idea I have there are details which create dissenting views about that idea. In order to proceed with an idea as grand as curing our species of his ailments there needs to be a universal push. That push must be universal, for only one nationality is not enough to open the eyes of the world leaders and let them know that we mean business. We need to show them we mean it. Knock off the wars and pay attention to what we tell you. We have an idea and it will work. This is not one man with an idea. This is every man with an idea, every woman with an idea, every child with an idea. We must embrace these ideas much as we embrace life, because these ideas are life.

In order to loft such a campaign as curing our diseases through research, science and technology, we must as a species understand the importance of such a campaign. Therefore – when the governments shake their united head and say no – the whole of mankind will see its aspirations to conquer such disabilities being ignored in favor of war and keeping the corporations in power and will truly see the power for what it is. Suppression. Why could we not cure it? Because it costs too much to do so. So why can’t we ignore a war and put the trillions into curing a disease? Because war makes money and curing people does not. Bottom line!

What if? What if we could end war? We can. Don’t believe me? What is mankind’s most important attribute? What do we want most? We want our children to be better off than we are. I repeat, we want our children to be better off than we are. Me, you, the government, the terrorists, everyone. Everyone wants to see our race advance in culture, and triumph as human beings. By warring we solve none of our problems, we only make the rich richer and kill more poor people. How does a spent cartridge feed a starving child? The amount spent on that cartridge would qualify as a meal, so by warring we deprive ourselves from properly carrying on our best attributes as a race.

I could argue until I am blue in the face. And I would lose. Even though it is feasibly possible to solve our largest dilemmas by utilizing mans common sense, we will not. We will not stick together. In part its because we are told he’s bad, they’re bad, they’re different, and we only care for our own. Profiled by our border guards and the government. Jailed if we are deemed to be dangerous because we fit a stereotype. Perhaps its the goal of man to abolish its own kind. Is it so we may not degenerate beyond the foreseeable bounds of who we are as a species. Maybe its ingrained in our D.N.A.’s to fail. Or maybe we are meant to ignore the best ideas because the weakest ideas are much less complex thereby requiring less diligence and no red tape.

With no further ado…

And now to the meat of this essay. What if the human race were given a new lease on life? One which could impact every man, woman, and child on the planet for the better. That was my thought, my grand idea which lead to this whole long mess of words. From there I thought, what if each of us had the chance to give the world a good idea. For each of us an idea to undo the messes we have made or an idea to prevent new messes. What if there were a giant idea box, (which could really be a monster computer server) for each country, which anyone could submit an idea to. Each day an idea is drawn and contemplated for its merits. It could be voted upon by the people who submit the ideas and the best one would win. If it is a good idea it is enacted. If its an idea which would infringe upon the rights of others it would be studied but not necessarily enacted, unless it is amended to not infringe upon another’s rights. 

Each day an idea is drawn, the worlds governments have agreed upon the terms and conditions of the idea as ideas and in turn play an integral part in its functioning. Because after all if a government fails to recognize or respect the world citizenry trying to make the world a better place through unanimous choice then the governments are complicit with stifling the progress of mankind for the sake of power, control and greed. If the government agrees to be a part of this process it will make them look good for doing the job they should be doing anyhow. Its a catch-22 for the government. If they don’t agree it makes them look like suppressive power greedy tyrants, if they agree it shows that they haven’t been doing their jobs for the money and ego alone but for the health of society. In a way by promoting this idea it is a test to see how government responds. 

If they are smart the government will advocate its goals. This is not an idea for personal gain, though it will provide employment opportunities as the ideas begin to be enacted upon. This idea will gain no money for any single individual or any single nation. It is an idea spawned to bring relief to the people of the world by the people of the world.

The idea is to put the control of the world back in the people’s hands. Each idea will be considered, each day one of these ideas will be put into effect due to the choice of the people. Where in this simple idea could any governments have any objection? Object over a society which wants to heal itself, no, this would make them look bad. Only one thing could stand in the way of this idea, the greed of a few. The ones who have the most to lose are the politicians and the corporations, the monopolies. This is why the idea pool would have to be instituted by the people and work in conjunction with the government. It would perhaps have to be forced upon the government by those who want change – not lies and promises which each of them feeds us. If it is forced into play how could the government reject it without making themselves look bad? 

By instituting this plan and forcing the government to comply – that which should have been born in their minds will be born in the spirit of doing things the right way in the world. Our government is there for our use, not the other way around. So as citizens lets use that to our advantage. The institute of change for the better. My good idea is open to debate. Its merits should be shared by all. New changes will be shared by all of mankind, lets incorporate mans knowledge into cures for our failures. After all, we don’t need more ideas set forth by fools who seem to drive our lives into a slaved existence with no hope for the future all so they can make a quick buck. 

We need to live by better ideas. Ideas we agree upon to forge the advancement of the human race, instead of the destruction of the human race through others twisted principles. We need to come alive through our rights and responsibilities, and this is but the first step in doing so. The first step toward true political freedom. 

An idea pool, a place where we can utilize the power of the web and technology to grow as a peaceful force to tackle our issues as a species. Who agrees it is a good idea? If you think its dumb then don’t share this. If you think it has merit then share it. I think I would like to suggest a few ideas, first of all if we focus our attention to conquering goals it will build pride as a species and give us goals we can meet. Second, if we meet these goals one at a time we will find there is nothing we can do it will institute a desire to be a more knowledgeable society. Third, if we institute an idea such as this we can wean away from the society we keep arguing about. 

All I ever heard about when growing up was how we should attain world peace, and all I have ever seen is war, sometimes by the same people who proclaim they are doing so in the name of peace. So lets make peace, whether your religious or non, it doesn’t matter. If your religious and don’t want peace then it shows how your religion has distorted your view on what peace really is. I was taught (when attending church) how peace is the goal of religion, and yet thats where the wars begin. So put aside religion, your political beliefs, and take up the standard for the people of the world. Lets feed the starving, lets cure cancer, lets plant more crops, lets reap from our minds what we can. Bring the idea pool into practice, help develop this idea, use your influence, its not for monetary gain its for all of us.

Do you want to save the world, or just talk about it? Spread this and lets see if we can get any media acknowledgement as a push in the right direction. Thank you for reading my idea. Please share it, comment on it, hate it, love it, reblog it, cut, copy and paste it, as you wish. Make it happen.

Which Will It Be

My deepest thoughts are coming, I have barely begun to let out the true capability that is within myself and the hearts of everyone of you out there. We all have something inside that we cherish and love and are afraid to show because of fear that its not good enough to satisfy our egos.

So cast the ego aside and allow what you have to contribute to this ailing society out of you and into the fire we all can make.

Burn your fears, and turn that fire into a positive wave, that will wash across the world and transform what we know into a rebirth. 

These are not idle words, these are not a script or a sermon, or a diatribe to make you follow any movement or cult. This is a plea to humanity to open their eyes and take notice that the answers we all seek are inside each and every one of us. So look within and find what you can do to change the world around you for the better. This is a prelude to my great unveiling, my magnum opus, my grand soliloquy, my greatest achievement yet to come along in my years of life. This will be a post I promised to come soon, but not this post, not this one. 

What would you say if I told you there was a way to redeem ourselves in the eyes of our children, to make up for the mess we have made of this once magnificent planet? 

Because there is a way, and I intend to prove it. I intend to show anyone who cares enough to leave a better world for their children how we can do this. But we can’t do it as individuals, unless as individuals we do it as one. One by one we need to take what my blog will say and mull it over, think deeply about the words, not the craftsmanship of the writer (me) who put it into words – the words themselves are the catalyst. I am just the conduit that put them within your realm of comprehension. I am a nobody who has a big thought. But its my big thought – I have decided to let it out – to cast aside the ego, to nullify the me, me, me and think on a global scale. We all have something to give, so why haven’t we? Not as a donation to cure this or that, or to say we gave to charity. This is bigger than charity and donations, this could be the cure to what we lack as a species.

As a species what is our goal? If any two people can answer that for me and the answers are the same I will be amazed. Because we all have different ideas of why we are here. And it really is irrelevant. What matters is that we are here, and what are we going to do with that knowledge? What is mankind’s goal on planet earth. To see how much we can amass before our lives run out? To see how far we get before our time is up? To see how far we can push mother nature before she finally ceases? Or is it something bigger and more positive?

Forgive me for the questions, but I really hope you take them seriously and try to come up with answers that make sense in your minds. I understand that on WordPress I am surrounded by people far more intellectual than myself, as I said I’m a nobody. And if a nobody such as I can come up with an idea as big as I think it is I can’t imagine how vast the ideas the true intellectuals can produce.

This is written from my head as I type, these words flow from my mind as I try to make you see that you all have it, you all have a gift that can spread and be used to transform the world we destroy. If you choose to use that gift it is entirely up to you. I can only ask you to think about it. And be open minded to the blog post which is forthcoming from me. 

I have the basics doodled out in a notebook because I usually write in pen before I commit to a computer. And I know it is an idea of epic proportions. I don’t have all the details worked out, all I have is a small spark. It is up to you to add the air and make that spark come to life and become an inferno.

Feel free to comment on that post, to spread that post, to share it and discuss it, and to formulate it into a cogent plan of action. Because words are merely words, and actions are necessary to make those words viable.

I thank you all for reading my post, for listening to a dreamer think of ways to make the world a safe place where we share a common goal. We don’t need guns to solve anything, only wisdom. Our brains should be able to propel us in a new direction for the sake of our childrens’ future.

Creative ADHD

I realize that I have a problem. Its one that can’t be fixed by any drugs that I would ever take. I have creative ADHD. What is creative ADHD you may ask. Its quite simple really. I should have figured it out sooner.

I jump from creative endeavor to creative endeavor like a crow hopping branches on a hot day. I write, photograph, sing rock music, hunt, fish, hike, carve wood, paint, create brochures for all the stuff I do (and not to stop there), I also like to add more creative endeavors. I repair photos, dream up world saving scenarios, and try to argue against our current government and their warring ways. I jump from one to another – sometimes in mid project – and never miss a beat. I write for months on end, or don’t write for months on end. I photograph a thousand photos a day or none for a month. I sometimes drop things for a year and come back just like it was yesterday. Does anyone else have this problem?

I am currently typing this while writing a new song at the same time. Is it possible? Yes, because I am doing it. I don’t know why I do this, short attention span theater perhaps, I don’t know, but I love to create. I hope to post a special bit of writing I have been working on for a number of years very soon. I have to edit it and type it in here when I get the opportunity. I will tag it; hope, ambition, peace, prosperity, legacy, reason, trust, evolution, brainstorm, idea, thought, caring, and positive mind. I will let everyone know when it is up on my blog. If anyone cares to change the world and I can get this idea out there, it is a chance for anyone involved to say they had a part of it. Remember, it only takes a spark to make a great fire. And I hope my spark will ignite a thousand fires which will ignite a thousand more. But in order for a fire to burn it needs air, and this blog and the other thousands of blogs out there should be the air that keeps all the fires burning.

If I post that blog, and it doesn’t seem sensible, reasonable, or sane to anyone out there please let me know, I would like to know its flaws. I know one flaw already, that people don’t stick together on points that make common sense. So thats one that needs to be overcome.

Common sense is one of those things that doesn’t court politics, so it will be greeted with negativity by press, government, and anyone else who doesn’t really care if the world flounders, as long as they have cash in their pockets and the world keeps spinning. But this idea….well, its one that can change the world. I don’t want to be god, or some famous dope who takes credit for anything other than leaving this world a better place, so this isn’t for ego. This future blog post will be about what makes us the most prominent species on this globe, the fact that we have the ability to change the course of events. But how many of us are willing to do that?

If you do nothing more than read that blog post and pass it on to ten people if you agree that it is relevant I will applaud your part in starting those fires. And this has nothing to do with overthrow or revolution, or dismantling the gears that keep us moving as a society. This will be a binder for our culture and a way to progress as a smart people, an educated mass, an intellectual movement which will be listened to for a change.

I really do have creative ADHD, it makes for a very exciting life at times, and at other times it makes for deadlines that get waylaid until I pick up where I left off. The future blog post will show you that I am always thinking, and sometimes strike upon something so simple and hopeful that it has to be good. I have good intentions no matter how others may perceive me at times. I care for my fellow humans and want to leave a better planet for our generations to come.

If you feel the same way, then you will find the idea I present as an enlightening one then we must act upon it by using whatever influence we have to be heard. I started this blog as a way to show off my photos and maybe outlet some of my writing and other creativity. I now know it is a great platform for my thoughts on how we can better our species chances of survival. I’m not Ayn Rand hoping for a Utopia which may exclude certain factions. Everyone in the world, rich, poor, every nationality, is invited to participate and stand together if this idea proves viable. And believe it or not, the underground media, the counterculturists, the people who know the real news of the world without the hype and propaganda, would probably agree to this ideas potential as a way for the voices of all men to be heard and a way to introduce true peace to this struggling world.

Thank you to all of you who think along the same lines that I do. This world is worth saving. Our children and their children are worth doing this for. If you believe, then you can do anything. And creative ADHD? It just so happens to be what makes me so busy with my life that I can ignore television, the news, and focus on the beauty in music, good movies, art and reading twenty to fifty pages a night. And now, bedtime as I have to work in the morning.

Another Blog Soon

I have decided (based on my photos popularity) to have a page just for writing soon. I wish to develop a place for serious world changing ideas and editorial based articles so I can hone my writing craft. I will still maintain a photo page, but will keep them separate from the writing. Working on constructing it in between full time work and my many projects, so hopefully soon I will have it up and running. Many thanks to all who have been visiting this Blog, it is great to know my work is no longer hidden on a hard drive. Better to share than squander art.

Run On Sentence

She stabbed me, took her knife from her pocket and stuck me right between my ribs, through my wife-beater tank top and deep into my heart, the steel ripping and sending spasms through torn nerve endings, the pain screaming its way to my brain and through my lips as I fell to my knees, barely able to contain all the hurt that I thought she could never harbor behind those innocent eyes as she looked at me, cooly, calmly, and blew me off like a gust tossing leaves from a fall tree in the middle of a storm, I guess it was deserved, I tried to hold back and tried to be subtle, and got the brush off of the year award, pushed away in one fell swoop for being an idiot and going against all society has tried to make me, non-emotional user of love and sex, politicized relationships, that don’t need trust, have no reason, being friends was too much, too little, not nearly enough, I had to press, and now wear her razor sharp knife in my chest, when I see her it turns, and stings, disappointment kicks me in the rear and the smile, it fades, as she side steps away, in the second it took to think all of this, before I can utter hello.

Catch – 22

I am in a catch – 22, pardon the cliche, but that is where I am as I write this post. I have decided to use my skills as a manipulator of words as a vehicle to try to earn additional income as a freelance writer.

My full time job is an un-gratifying kick in the teeth which gets me nowhere financially and intellectually. i strive to be somewhere else before the advent of another summer. But summer seems so close and I am just beginning to research how to write and publish a blog and publish it to gain enough momentum to try to write freelance articles for online sites. I write both fiction and non-fiction, essays, songs, poems and assorted quips and quotes all with an aim to inform, entertain and to propel new thought among others.

As I write these first few blogs I write them as samples to show that I am only human. My sentence structure reflects who I am. I have run-ons, incomplete sentences, slang, cliched sayings, and generally sound like I am – a complex jangled mess of thoughts dying to get out of a man trapped in the retail profession. I have a mind and wish to be paid for it. I have beautiful thoughts and photographs and wish for the world to see them. I have ability and will share it with a willing world.

My art is not a particular piece. It is all pieces which I produce. My art of words is not studied or taught and my philosophy is unwritten. My, my, my, it always comes to that no matter what we say or do. The aim of my vision, my art, my words is to percolate thought. I want to provoke inspiration and find the deeper selves within us. The deepest, the thoughts which have been bred out of us over time, as we were forced by culture to forget. Why are we here, if not to create positive change.

I believe every voice counts, more-so than a voice in our political circus. Each voice can raise five new voices if what is said is important. This is what it means to be free. These signals we send are the inner process meant to be released to help others see a light that was extinguished when we ushered in an era of entertainment over importance. Writers are the last bastion of hope to remind people that we need to seek a future goal as a race. What is that goal?

My goal; to escape a mundane life filled with negativity and to enter a new place. A place where I can elaborate on my thoughts and enlighten others and feel intellectually fulfilled.