Everbody Wants to Rule the World.

 

In our nascent days as people,  we stood for liberty and the pursuit of happiness.  We also had churches dictating the position that we could have sex.   To achieve that end,  government and religion would invaribly have to be voyeurs as well.    It seems to me,  the government has too many bigger issues to worry about,  than consensual play between consulting adults.

 

“The onset of mania occurs when when repression is no longer able to resist the assaults of the repressed instincts.”

Karl Abraham

More importantly we do not take the time to listen,   but we judge and assume too many things.   Most of which, are not true.   We try to find a witch to burn and are amazed when some or many, sing in acapella.  About the differences from one life to another.

“Come senators, congressmen
Please heed the call
Don’t stand in the doorway
Don’t block up the hall
For he that gets hurt
Will be he who has stalled”

Bob Dylan

We can’t quite figure it out and rather than to leave people alone,  we enact new laws that restrict people, from the right, to the pursuit of their own happiness.

In fifty years,  most of us will be long gone and those laws,  like their effectiveness,  will serve no purpose.   Agreeably,  there is a need to restrict certain ‘illegal’ behaviors,  but for all the billions we spend on foster children and child welfare,  there are still homeless and abused children, with social workers who live  comfortably, but still no safe place for said children to live.

The legislators and moralists preach restraint.  One codifies the law, to enforce their causes and the other a moral platitude, that never can be met.  Today, the hippies of generations past,  are lawyers, judges and preachers.  They tell young adults, that they can’t drink until they are 21,  as if that arbitrary number actually does save lives.

Or preachers who are popping young women,  driving off bridges and telling us,  that God dissaproves,  of what we are doing.   Memo to the Elmer Gantys of the world, we know what you are doing and did do, when you were young.

Come mothers and fathers
Throughout the land
And don’t criticize
What you can’t understand
Your sons and your daughters
Are beyond your command
Your old road is rapidly agin’
Please get out of the new one if you can’t lend your hand
For the times they are a-changin’

Bob Dylan

One Tin Soldier

Like the BDSM community,  who regulate their own,  and there are those who are those people who are out there, who are true sadists, who give the lot of them, a bad name.  But moreover,  the doms are very compassionate of their charges and ask them (subs/slaves) what are the limits. Most really do care!  They love their people and hate those who do not follow the rules of that community.

At stake is the very existence of their lifestyle,  who to the outsider,  does seem bizarre.  But being bizarre is not a crime and the participants do volunteer and their bosses, make sure, that the verbal contract, is not breached.

 

 

Remember: this is not about you: parents and friends.

This is about the beauty of life an the indescribable joy of self-satisfaction.

 

 

 

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She Fell in Love. Can’t be help responsible!

Back in 1974,  I was a kid,   only 18 years and probably was witness in some way to a date rape.   It sure felt like it because as I was leaving out the dorm that night,  guys were pulling a train on a teen girl and some guy asked me if I wanted to have ‘some.’   I said, “no.”   And besides,  the choice of words haunts me too as well as the whimpering that went along with her disorientation.

I was so naive but a part of my soul has been tortured to this very day.   If I knew then what I know now,   I might have gone postal because I cannot imagine a crime worse than that.     You see,   she was drunk and whimpering.   Damnit.   That really pisses me off.  No girl asks for ‘it.’   Not for that.

 

But date rape characterizations are nothing new and for the longest time just generally accepted.   In the movie ‘Animal House’  the guy was contemplating having sex with a passed out underage girl.    Did she ask for it?  NO! Does it happen?   Hell ya!   Is it any wonder so many women want to spread the pain around.

Going a few years into my adult life,   I had a girl friend and she was given a roofie.    The net effect according to her,  was she never felt the same about anything!    Date-raped by her boss at the mall.   She and I went through hell afterwards and my anger @ jerkoffs intensifies.    My girlfriend was only pieces of ceramic,   like Humpty-Dumpty,  those pieces can’t always be fixed.

I suffer too,  knowing that seedy men with seditious desires lay in wait,   like Jack The Ripper or the Boston Strangler.   In these instances the pain is far worse than death.    It is a slow blood-letting of one’s spirit and sense of control.    We had great times and every once in awhile we would talk.

From her bosses abuse of her,  of us really,   she went on a self-destructive binge with an older guy who was a criminal.   Arrested for a crack ball and spending time in prison,   he seemed to like finding young victims.   Her sister said he liked to read magazines like ‘Barely Legal’ and ’18’.      Yeah one of those!    One day her sister gave me a journal she had written and she had talked to her sister about the parasite she was with and how she missed me and my steady decisions and what would I do in a particular situation.   She said I am the guy that returns the shopping cart.    For awhile I was miffed by that but then got the gist of what she was trying to express.     She also got a disease from this miscreant,   Herpes!

(She fell in love in the first place)))

For some reason these words tick me off.    An otherwise innocent girl and not perfect by any  means,   paid the price for both of you and you both should be ashamed.     And I harbor guilt for not being able to protect her from the smarmy underbelly of the beast that lurks with a touch of wind and a wiff of illicit drugs.

If her mom had not been a prostitute and subjected her to so much,   she might have been able to cry on her shoulders.    She could have  told her Mom what he said and did  and your Mom would turn away.   Flushed with anger and disappointment,  words she heard once upon a time. Now reverberating like a song that plays over and over on a music box.   The ballerina fell suddenly and her porcelain dreams laid like a million shards of what ifs.

So let’s examine some of the dubious comments made by men and boys and mostly they are one and the same.     Your high school heroes and high society icons flickered as capriciously as the stories of high school football players and date rapes.   The bottom-line being the reputation of the boys and a girl who was allegedly asking for it.    She was collateral damage in the game of cat and mouse.

He gave you wine or drugs and told you it was okay.    He promised you everything to dance in the sheets and tomorrow he denies that he even knew you or the things you said,  you couldn’t have meant,  if you did say them….

Their friends and influences probably had mixed emotions about the destruction,   from the boss to the drug abusing narcissist whose real romance is a synthetic cesspool of misery.   Both now share in a common malady with excuses and no care for the damage they were doing.

What once was a fairy tale happiness transmogrified into a hellish world of missed chances.   Where lightning does strike over and over again(in the same place) and the pain still flows,  if even now to more or less a trickle.     In the video above  Boy Meets Girl they dance and sing with a love that we all want and yet finally,  even they play a requiem to a love gone strange.     To me,   as I worked in the media in Tampa,   the song was a fresh time.   A promise.   Together with Paula Abdul’s ‘Straight up’,  it seemed life had spectacular promise,  even after a lost preemie and the mother who ran off for a decade and a half with our daughter.

But life has second chances even if those chances require some modifications to retrofit them to make them work.    I do remember what my daughter said about her 16th birthday and how much she loved me.   That that was her best birthday ever.   This after being lost to me from her early post natal days to about fifteen years later.    Still,   I would NOT change things too much because what if we never rediscovered that and that is why the blog about ‘Ten Years a Single Mother’  and her kids love for her touches my heart.   Kids get the connections and their love is pure if they are loved.

The theme of this entire post is what are we going to do.    Rather than just complain about the pain,  how can we fix a thing?   You,   I and many others have lived on both sides of the track and nothing……  nothing gets fixed by complaining.    We need to put people first because a warm place and a hot dinner matters.

To the abuse of women,  children and the vulnerable,   you and I can change the world.    I have a few things going now.    One is to get Emotional Support Animals and Service Pets for people who need them.    Let’s teach men and society in general how to treat a lady and your kids.    We need to focus on identifying potential abuse and treat the family not a case number but take care of it as a village.  With compassion.    No tolerance policies does not heal a family.    Making rules is what politicians do.   Why do we punish people like Aileen Wuornos the way we do?   Why not find out where at-risk people are and help?   That gives us all a better chance of surviving the obstacles in life.

From murderers to offenders of all kinds,   punishment is the easy part,   preventing tragedies can happen and should happen.    That takes  more than a Breathalyzer and seeing if you can walk a straight line.    How much better will this world be with solutions and not grandstanding politicians and other nabobs using the moment for  personal gain.

Education is the key to everything.   Not just laws but helping people be better people.    Not projecting how good we are,  but how good we can all be,  if we just try.   Ghettos are going nowhere and neither are the homeless,  the drug users and other kinds of abusers.   Let’s get this done and stop maligning others.    The old speck and the log thing.

 

 

Interludes and the deluded.

shipwrecksLiar's moon

The Sound of the clock rang one last time,  as the weary hearted shadow failed.   The sun was seeking to find an image lost, that ceased in the middle of a deep blue sky.  At every angle and throughout the day,  nothing changed but the chill and the chattering teeth.    One raindrop had fallen from a crescendo of tears,  evaporating just like time,  seasoning the still damp land.

Followers in sequence too busy to care,   hustled about the streets waiting for the next ball to drop.   Cheers and acrimony and a wave of the hand,  til bedding with strangers again and again.    When the moment came,  an idea sprang to life,   why not choose between the party-goers and the party?     Pretty soon flashes of white and the shutter’s eye,  passing a cake for two intended and then shared with more.  A part frozen never to be warmed but only discarded.

The wine skin burst but nothing more flowed only the dim retrospect of a choice that morphed into a bad dream.   Words were exchanged between the two and the two by many.    Now, a gavel and the sounds of finality.    Where did I come from and why should I care?   Surely there is more to this than that?

So now jaded, a victim of familiar circumstances,  those eggs all in one basket fell.     Now is the time to adjust the screen.    Take out the colors that are purple and green.   Wiser now with only a poem to tell.    Finding a warm spot in the winter’s interluded dreams.

Ray Rice had a very bad moment! But so have you! Some things never change.

“I won’t insult your intelligence by suggesting that you really believe what you just said.”
William F. Buckley Jr.

So now we have yet another controversy (Ray Rice) because men and women alike to ply controversy as along as it does not indict them or their perceptions about themselves.    A trio of cases has made the news and those ready to capitalize on them,  will.  (Ray Rice,  Adrian Peterson and Ferguson)   But like any person who benefits from these kind of cases are not about solutions.   These kinds want to feeled vindicated over something that has no relevance to their own lives.

They are just lazy haters with no plan.   The longer this goes on the less time there is to judge their own missteps and that includes me.    They have a belly full of self-righteous indignation and no one to blame.  Except for the vulnerable who they CLAIM to care about.

Those who wish to bash Janay Rice taking her longer view of this situation,  I want to slap!   Sure Ray Rice has done the unthinkable and their indeed needs to be consequences.   But the most strident critics are those with things to hide or some other agenda.     Or you have the guys who like to present a virtual dialogue,  accusing others of racism, sexism,  misogyny or whatever their minds decide.

These decisions are born of haste,  arrogance and the unfetter cacophony of a lynch mob.    Like the Salem Witch-hunts come in various arrays,  finding some niche in which a person can ruin another.   It is that simple.   People do because they can.  Just like those dysfunctional sex bombs on Jerry Springer.    What is most fascinating about that ‘trainwreck’ is how old flash me some boobs Springer is like a prurient slinky in Chinatown offering some sage advice to people who wantonly exploit each other.

Then are the raucous and indecorous sniggles at a woman objectifying herself by showing her boobs.    This diminishingly embarrassing behavior in encouraged.    Some of these very same people are cheering while teenagers are deemed sex offenders by showing their bodies to their friends and classmates who get an eyeful.    So who made you God?   You cannot even run your own life as the song so aptly put it.  Now, you wish to destroy Rice,  Peterson and Tiger Woods.   I can bet my life that some of you have done worse.

You talk about helping women?  You lie!  Aside trying to ruin the lives of the guilty the world has not changed one bit.    You are part of the problem as long as there is clamoring and no one is listening.  How else can anything ever get better?     Aside from the punitive actions and laws you offer no change in the patterns of abuse.

Hillary had one thing right,  that is literally does take a village to make things like bullying,  abuse and terrorism abate.   Not even a plan just demands of justice.   Taking on the victim like Ray’s wife and making it all about you!  You are complicit in bringing more pain to the world.   You have made the victim’s life harder whilst you munch on Doritos and beat your dog.   Yeah,  I know you did this!

or there is this!

Let’s take charge of our own and stop letting disinterested parties decide our fate and I mean us all.  We all go around not trying to effect change as practically as we can and bomb aspirin factories and tell everyone else how nice we are.   We are never as good or as bad as we want others to believe.

I have lied and have stolen things and have deceived and maybe they may or may not have been crimes but I do not go around giving everyone else a scarlet letter or accuse of them of being a witch,  child molester or a serial cheater of some kind.

It’s like the show (movie)  ‘Mean Girls’.  A revealing look at the innate nature of us all and even those who we thought were incapable of such things.

I like ‘House’.   Does that make me an abuser or a victim?    Does calling a peaceful church goer affect you?   And why do you think anyone owes YOU an apology?   Everybody hurts some times.

It is hard enough to make it in this life without lighting another fire and while we may not have this particular tragedy over our heads we can assure others than there are those who really do care.

Mediating Reality and Politics.

One of the more frustrating aspects of dealing with people is that they read a book on let’s say, ‘Physics’.   They read just enough to have an opinion and then can’t be bothered.   In essence, that becomes their politics.   They fancy their notions but do not engage with them.

The first principle is that you must not fool yourself and you are the easiest person to fool.

Science itself is still in it’s veritable infancy.  The things we will know later will dwarf us in the here and now.   And the climate change debate will crystalize.    Not an answer driven by political correctness but we will have done ‘real due-diligence’.   Not throwing talking points as real science.

People want everything gift-wrapped into tight little packages that are easy to explain but when you get beneath the dogma, there is nothing but that dogma.   Logically then or rather illogically they go back to their default position as with the topic of ‘Climate Change’.    They refer back to the experts,  whatever that might be.   Many of these same people then refer to the religious as deferring to fairy tales.

Stephen Hawking has the Higgs-Boson to fall back on and considering the fact that he has beaten the odds,  doesn’t see the irony.  As if the fact that my friend died after a year after he was diagnosed.   He too,  had ALS.    The difference being that he was a professing Christian while the former must imagine some last minute intervention or like many unbelievers that his mass will not destroyed.  I  guess.

If I left the world being the most dissipated man of all time,  and did not feel the slightest compunction at being a  jerk,  then maybe I too could go on without asking the biggest question…..why?  Why in my honest evaluation of myself,  I could not even hint at being some kind of saint or above it all.

So maybe we fancy ourselves to be many things.   Perhaps an Opera Star, a Poet or maybe we were born to be a leaf.  One that has fallen during Autumn who is slated for a burn barrel of the compost pile.   We are even less than the worst of miscreants,  who we should assume ourselves to be.   This is not self-flagellation but simple perspective.   The nascent rise of real science can upset a lot of realities.   But is that Immutable Perfect Being really interested in “our take”?    And would it necessarily disprove anything of the nature of God?

This diagram shows changes in the rate of expansion since the Big Bang. The shallower the curve, the faster the expansion rate. There's a notable change in the curve around 7.5 billion years ago, when astronomers think a mysterious, dark force caused objects to fly apart at a faster rate. NASA/STSci/Ann Feild

At that point,  were we even cognizant of our plight relative to people,  what then?

 

Life is more than elaborate set of rules but the worst part of that is maybe no one really cares who good you think you are,  much less than a sentient being of unimaginable power.  The fact that such a being would ever even care is worthy of our consideration.

Ultimately God makes his choice and is the only choice ever truly made by anyone or anything.  God is not like us,  he would be in all ways better and once we get that if we were a plot of clay,  he could dash that hardened clay against the wall and it would be fair.


That we are sentient, ought to reveal something very important about us and even more about God.   In the final analysis God is so fair,  that he would consider all of our arguments and is the perfect parent because unlike us,  he is truly impartial.  Those conferred with greater gifts now,  are not among the elite in heaven, but those with a humble heart,  who imagines humbly to be so unworthy of him.

Conversely we are antithesis of modesty and our self-aggrandizement is really evident we get so mired into those shows like ‘American Idol’ and that is just one program that intimates that someone is going to find us and see how wonderful we are.    Afterall everyone has some measure of greatness.   Really?  How about those who just CANNOT sing or act or paint a picture?

There has to be a special for them!   And why again?  This kind of mentality is part of the infantilism of the world today.  A 20 year old woman (many called her a girl) remonstrated that her life was miserable because her parents embarrassed her when she was 10.   The crime?   Her parents made her a Halloween costume and that poor girl was traumatized.  Yeah I bet a lot of people would love to trade places.

That person who you and I shrugged off.   That person we may have done charity for with an air of insolent disregard,  perhaps imagining that we are better and he or she is there by choice.   But as I see it, we can be that little boy or girl,  combing through sewage and refuse hoping to eat that.   Maslow’s Hierarchy of Needs at play here my friends.

 

Not dogmas,  not same-sex marriage or even that man/woman arrangement.   Today we confer some kind of special birthright based on sexual proclivity,  racial orientation or our beliefs in some obscure frog or farflung religion.

 

It is one thing to rebel against injustice because there is some intrinsic value in that.   However,  a lot of this is just rhetoric.

Pay a dime to a cause and sleep well at night.   Is that going to be our legacy?  Do we ‘really’  lose sleep over all this terrible stuff in the world?

 

We more than most rich people get it.   We are more likely to suffer more substantially than billionaires and because of that we can more relate to the hurting.  But our answer basically mirrors the tax write-offs of the uber rich.   So maybe we are not so swell afterall.

The good message and point here is that someone does care but to know him we have to set aside all presumption.   We have to look at ourselves being the one hurting and really understand our own inherent leanings towards wrong.   I am NOT exempting myself from this either.   We all must do apart from hyperbole and most of all,  do it not for accolades or some measure of self-satisfaction.   Let the words silently minister to the hurting.

 

 

There is one thing that I want to do today and that is to ask those who hear to respond.   You will know question to that answer and you will find harmony and perfection.

 

 

 

 

 

Gate Keepers

Gate Keepers

As we know more about a lot, we master nothing.    We toil and strive and then concede,  ultimately wallowing in the muck and mire of our own personal experiences.   We assume we are patently original,  suspiciously aware of our hypocrisy.    We claim we never lie and if we do then we do.

Sometimes in our youth,  we wish to cheat death or get as close as we can to that.  Impressing others of our bravado and recounting our glory years.    Like the song, ‘Those Were the Days My friend,   we thought they’d never end,   we sing and dance forever and a day.   We live the life we choose,  we fight and never lose,  those were the days,  oh yes, those were the days.’

There was a time in our life, when we romanticized love,  as if we were Romeo and Juliet,  or we might be Bonnie and Clyde.   We would make love as no one else could.   Like a Muse in a Xanadu,  we find our own reality,  as we move gracefully together.

But then something happened.  The Yellow brick road began to crumble and the house landed upon our love.   With a resounding thump and a crash of dishes,  our dreams faded like a late show re-run.

Those songs that inspired us,  were now a requiem,  sad and haunting.   Soon bitterness impaled our hearts and they become like stone.    And instead of skipping flat stones across a florid lake.

Florid Lake

So maybe we find a church ,   with a choir and we sing staid old songs,  as lifeless as a still-born dream.  We are reverent and judging,  but we judge others for their specks,  while redwoods roam in our eyes.

We can’t wait to leave and try to depart as soon as we can and we claim a god of opportunity to an end with no life,  like that old abandoned church.

We hear a knock from above,  wistful vapors of the unseen but our spirit consists of seeing images in an office building and tying meaning to a ship that never comes back.

It need not end this way.   In spite of unrequited love snatching us too early.  the knocks push upon us harder and the message is clear and unwavering.  Though all around are the indignant,  honest, godly church going people who flick ashes upon others.

We cannot find what we assumed was there until our hearts melt for the needs of forgiveness of our own missteps.   The harrowing nightmares we perpetrated on others,   while claiming some kind of victim-hood.

When we realize that we are there,  we will know we have arrived.   Our pretentions are like tumbleweeds drifting on a dusty road.   Yet in that abyss of faith,   we find ourselves trembling but more free.

Remember good is never good enough and if it will be,  it definitely be.  with no further side-slips on that precarious path.

 

My Scepter

I sit high upon the throne or prone in my bed.   Changing the scenery with images in my head.   I lay waste to nonsense,  I am unflappable you see.   I manage the visions with great aplomb, the artists hand  quick to draw or retract.  I don’t need to erase things or bother with smudges,  like an etch-a-sketch with no rewind,  the image will do.

I like to be in control because it is a lot of fun and observing colorful birds with the eyes of the sun. There is nothing that I can’t do,  until I wake up from this dream

by Larry Olson,  01/15/2014