In Search Of The Virtuous Woman

We called her The Goddess but her name was simply Susan. She was an unassuming and delicate example of teenage femininity. A template for a prom queen without the backseat reputation. She was that girl in the church youth group that could not be tempted beyond the limitations of her faith and moral belief. The constant that made God smile and know that His creation was good. And she was beautiful but not sexy. God's flower. Alluring but incorruptible. Our one desire was to bask in the aura of her virginal innocence...her purity, such was our feelings of unworthiness. In our eyes she was a modern day Delphic oracle or like Remedias The Beauty in that novel where men from surrounding towns would flock to church, not to worship God but to merely gaze upon her face. And like Remedias we suspected that because of what she was, she would never grow old and die, but would instead be lifted up into heaven one day deserting the world that did not deserve her. I was 21 years old and still looking for a girl who could save me...save me from myself, and although I worshiped her from afar I never attempted to express any romantic intentions toward her outwardly. She was an unattainable dream. I never understood how those who managed to actually go out with her could find her "boring."
Tammy was a different story. She was pretty, but approachable. I liked her for her long red hair and ginger complexion. I suppose I was attracted by her girlish-opey- type wholesomeness with that slight mix of nerdishness. It was probably her glasses that created that impression. Tammy was the dutiful Christian girl who was open to new experience but still kept her bible close by as a kind of security blanket and life manual in case of emergencies. I recall how she took to heart a particular message relayed to a teenage congregation from the pulpit of a youth minister one evening. I was there and it went a little something like this. "When you young ladies find yourself in situations where these young men test your virtue, just lay down the word of God, the Holy Bible ...just lay it on the couch or car seat between the two of you and defy him to cross that line. By the time he gets through Matthew, Mark , Luke and John he will understand what you are about." I found it amusing and I also took it to heart but in a different way. Tammy and I went out after awhile and on that first date I decided to be a smart ass. No surprises there.
I spent the early afternoon creating a mix tape of my favorite songs . One side consisting of my favorite fast songs for the trip over to New Orleans and the other side consisting of slow romantic tunes for later in the evening. I also brought my bible and I hid it under my car seat. After the movie we took a short drive over to the lakefront for the stated intention of looking at the Mardi Gras fountain there. My real reason was of course to make out. We walked around for awhile and held hands as we walked. Eventually I mustered the courage to steal a kiss... and it was all downhill after that ... but not right away. When we got back to the car I reached beneath my seat and conspicuously placed the bible between myself and Tammy. Her reaction was not immediately negative but she eventually came to the conclusion that I was mocking her. I suppose that instead of just teasing her I had inadvertently challenged her to break the rule,to be a hypocrite and quickly break the rule...the rule that had been preached from the pulpit. She passed the test and I didn't. I'll never know what would have happened had I not pulled the little stunt and just let things occur naturally, but it never dawned on me that maybe it was she who was giving me the chance to prove that I was a virtuous man. Maybe I had been before...at one time... but at that time...that year...I was admittedly a guy in retrograde rejecting the notion that God could circumvent the sexual drive of women when tested. I ask myself now why I chose to pursue women in church instead of going elsewhere. Eventually I did, but not before I tried a few more times with other girls. Brenda failed the test before I ever got to her, but Marilyn was in a class with Susan the Goddess.
I think back then I was trying to accomplish two things at the same but I just didn't realize it.
One was of course sexual gratification. The other was a little fuzzier and it had to do with my own personal justification for abandoning the moral values I had been taught all my life. I was never looking for true virtue, I was instead looking for the cracks that would shatter the illusion of morality. It was I think more a test of God and Christianity than it was a search for any one virtuous woman. There would be many virtuous women out there but then there was me...a guy in retrograde shaking his fist at God and slamming the church door behind him, eventually seeking morality and sex in bars and pool halls.
I recently had a conversation with a girl at work who, when observing the behavior of a rude woman, stated "that woman needs Jesus, either that or she needs to get laid." Hardly thinking I quickly retorted."maybe she needs to get laid by Jesus." In hindsight I hope God and Jesus, if They are out there, will forgive me. As I said before way back then... I'm just a guy in retrograde

The Sexy Halloween

I'm going to go ahead and say it. Stephen King needs to stop writing. I used to be a fan and devoured his books quickly. I think he's already said every important thing that he had to say about life and death. He writes too damn much and takes too damn long to say what he's already said before a million times. I even bought his book "Danse Macabre" that purported to explain his own personal philosophy about horror. To save you the trouble I'll summarize. We all fear the horrible death and he exploits that fear. He also says that as a child he enjoyed horror movies but that he comforted himself by "looking for the zipper" on the monster. When the monster turned the corner and entered the room he silently assured himself that there was no real reason to be afraid because it was merely a guy in a rubber suit. Okay I get that and I've even done that myself. However, in today's world, special effects are superb and unconfortably convincing in their ability to show us what it would be like to actually suffer that horrible death that King talked about.
We really can't find that zipper anymore. So what do we do? I'll tell you in a minute.
I used to be a freak for horror movies and I sought them out and even bought magazines that canonized classic horror movies and even further introduced me to new filmmakers and their special effects teams. I too wanted to understand how it was done, because the horror...the deaths...were becoming more convincing. Too good and that disturbed me. Eventually I lost interest completely in the horror genre...books and movies....and I dropped them cold. Today I have no stomach for the new horror. It's too much about suffering...too much about pain...too much about torture ... too much about the grand and horrible death. Orchestrated by sadists and sick minds.
Some of you have heard my story about my close friend whose favorite holiday is Halloween. Mark used to host parties for Halloween like other people hosted Christmas parties. Everyone was expected to come in costume and party for at least two days. And he videotaped the entire thing so that he could watch it later. All the drinking, smoking and general debauchery documented for posterity. We had a ball and we laughed at ourselves as we watched the tape.
Who got lucky...who got sick...who made a fool of themselves...who looked scary and who looked sexy. But here's the point. Nobody was scared. We didn't think about fear or death. We made it fun and sexy. Mark owned Halloween. His party was a distraction from the real issues of the season.
Nowadays bars and taverns and nightclubs all do what Mark was doing long ago. They manufacture Halloween distractions encouraging patrons to come on out as naughty nurses, sexy witches, seductive vampires and monsters and any number of new and neutered franchised boogeymen. Although some people appear to cling to the traditional view of Halloween most of us retreat into the fun and sexy category. It's for our own protection. Sexy distracts us from the real and more depressing fact of death. It is our own coping mechanism that allows us to "see the zipper" when in fact there is none. Ultimately that is what it's all about now. As I get older the reality becomes more real. Memento Mori ... we all must die. It's like they say, in the final analysis, . nobody gets out of here alive. Not very comforting but its true. Happy Halloween.

Cardiac Arrest

I am the broken heart
displayed in fragile glass
disenfranchised from the rest
deconstructed and amusing
you are welcome to the pain
and all the open wounds

Circle round the pedestal
and see me from all sides
appreciate the misery
quantify my weakness
estimate when death occurred
so many people to thank

pierced and punctured
defeated by delusion
a monument to stoic scarecrow silence
life abruptly halted
a martyr to the cause
what was the final straw?

I am the crippled heart
protected by surrender
immune to further damage
devoid of further hope
reluctant and afraid
immobile and withdrawn

I am the broken heart
now quiet,still and safe

Hard On for HughesNet : The Big Massage

By all accounts HughesNet isn't that great but I don't care. I won't be subscribing to it because I know the truth, but it wasn't an easy choice, given the fact that Kimberley Joseph is its spokesperson. She is my latest obsession and I hope to be engaged to her in the very near future. What a goddess, and when in her commercial she exclaims, "No Way!", I just get tingly all over. She will be mine, by the gods she WILL be mine...but I digress. Let's talk about Marshall McLuhan for a moment...that media analyst from way back who coined the clever phrase," the medium is the message." He spoke of various media as being hot or cool. Hot media ...like motion pictures... require little cerebral participation, while television, a cool medium requires more. At least that was his assumption back in the day. but things have changed since then or maybe the delineation between the hot and cool mediums has gotten fuzzy and confusing. I mean really...radio,television, video, DVDs, computers, cellphones, PDAs. Christ, we're bombarded by mountains of information that demand our attention and we are often tempted to just disconnect from the persistent and sustained assault on our senses. But McLuhan would later refer to that constant assault by a different name. He altered his previous statement ( the medium is the message) to proclaim that "the medium is the massage" ...a mild state of prolonged hypnosis where we are more susceptible to suggestion and lulled into a state of compliance and conformity to those suggestions. Television is the culprit. I could include the internet but the point would still be made so let's just settle on television for the moment. Today television has become a tool...a tool for political propaganda and more importantly an instrument of the "free market." I know...I know, It's always been a means in which to sell products and services to the public under the guise of entertainment ( and now a word from our sponsor) but it's ability to influence the masses has increased a thousand fold due to the development of the continuous 24 hour broadcast cycle. It is literally on ALL THE TIME.
I am by no means a man of leisure but I watch my share of news and entertainment on satellite television, and I have to say... Repetition is the enemy of a rational man. It is a wolf wrapped in a lamb suit. More to the point, how else can one explain the current phenomenon of buying insurance from gecko lizards, CGI Generals and penguins, and finally a ditzy female waitress in a showroom that resembles a kind of "insurance purgatory." And banks...don't get me started. Banks aren't banks anymore...they're bicycle shops, peddling ( I couldn't resist) home loans, credit cards and financial planning...to get you where you want to be. Honestly, how absurd can it get... and it's all part of the massage.
I learned something a long time ago that has always disturbed me...insurance companies own the world, or at least the good ol' USA. Insurance companies own banks, and banks in turn own businesses...all of them. And banks control budding entrepreneurs and even established corporations by dolling out money under specific terms for prudent use in daily operation and most importantly ...for meeting the demands of employee payroll. Small companies and large corporations alike have a submitted business plan to the bank that hopefully justifies the bank's risk on behalf of the lendee. The bank ( or should I say the insurance company) basically dictates what employees will be paid for their time and work. And here's a little secret that really isn't a secret at all...the cost of labor is always underestimated...underestimated on purpose by the bank, so that real prosperity can never be achieved by the employee. So how do we as the underpaid employees attempt to realize that prosperity? Two words...credit cards. Lines of credit issued by...say it with me...the bank ( the insurance company) Do you see a master plan evolving? Media distracts while political and economic opportunists hoard the money. The perpetual distraction...entertainment, news,politics designed to dazzle and distract the consumer from the dirty truth embedded in our system of free enterprise. The illusion of prosperity is achieved by first holding back fair wages to the majority of workers only to later give that same money back to them...for a price. That price is the systematic and long term enslavement of the average worker to the moneychangers who fix the game. Honestly, elections have become more like draft picks in the NFL from one season to the next and they serve the same purpose...provide the distraction...have winners and losers...but never ever change the basics of the game. We are told by the media that changing the game would be "un-American." I have to ask,"what is so scary about the prospect of a more equitable system that spreads more money around to everyone and not just the friends and families of insurance companies?"
So that's it... enslavement made palatable by the Big Massage. My television is always on, even when I'm not at home. It keeps me company in my now empty nest and it calls to me and tells me what I need...what to buy, what to watch, who to vote for and of course how to feel. Back in the stone age, and by that I mean the 50's, The Flintstones urged us to smoke cigarettes and we never questioned whether they were perhaps just blowing smoke up our ass. We eventually learned the truth. We became more sophisticated and learned to question what we were told.
Today the massage provided by television is slicker and all the more relentless in it's effort to mellow us out, to patronize us and to ultimately manage us. Repetition of a lie. Discover Card tells us that to save money we have to spend money...huh? Apparently using credit cards is a fast track to wealth...but for who? Years ago I read in a magazine about advertising that we, as consumers, accept the lies contained in advertising because the alternative is to be told the truth and that would be to horrible to face. But I'm stubborn...I always look for the lie. No amount of cutesy cartoon animals and whacky characters will convince me to un-see it.
Meanwhile I'll keep listening to Kimberley and her pitch about HughesNet. I understand that it is an excellent internet provider. At least that's what she says. And she wouldn't lie to me would she? No Way.

On The Passing of Walkin' Jim Stoltz

I never met Walkin' Jim Stoltz. I only knew Jim. We got faintly reconnected in recent years through emails but the person I really knew best was but 14 or 15 years old. We were junior high buddies and I will always remember a large poster he gave me at the time that hung on my bedroom wall for years afterwards. It was a black and white poster of the bottom of two bare feet. It was obscure and random and cool, and we appreciated it for those reasons. I looked at it as a simple token of our friendship. Jim left the flatness of Slidell, Louisiana early on to return to his true roots in Royal Oak, Michigan before he could graduate with those of us in the St. Tammany Parish School System. Even then he lamented the lack of freedom to be who he wanted to be, in a system that said long hair was a path to failure . Jim wrote the forgettable "St. Tammany School System Blues" in protest over attempts to make students conform and comply to silly rules designed to stifle self expression. In the Sixties that was being debated constantly by existing power structures and budding hippies. Jim was the latter and when he finally did graduate in Royal Oak he sent me his official senior picture with shoulder length hair as proof that he had prevailed over society's mandated conformity.
I'm not really sure when the compulsion to unite with nature took a hold of Jim. He is quoted as saying it was the Boy Scouts that gave him his first taste of life around a campfire, but Jim visited me in February of 1973 , long hair and all, and it was clear that the mountains of Vermont had seduced him completely. By September of that same year he had quit his job, quit college, bought a new guitar, and, eventually, set off with a girlfriend to go camping in those same mountains. After three months of hiking and camping his girlfriend left him, but he stayed in those mountains without her. He transplanted himself permanently to live and work there, bought his very first car ( a '66 Buick Special) for two hundred dollars and while living with friends in Newport, Vermont he found work in an Ethan Allen lumber yard. Jim tried to find venues ( bars, coffee houses, lodges) to play his music, something he had begun in Royal Oak, but those were hard to find at first. By March of 1974 he had quit his job in the lumber yard ("it's not where I'm at") and planned his first long distance hike (March thru October) of the 2,000 mile Appalachian Trail. Before he left, he cut his hair ( a little) and grew a beard. Surprisingly he left his guitar behind and took only a flute recorder to amuse himself with music. By then he was signing his letters as "Mountain Jim."
His second endeavor began in May of 1975 and ended in November of 1976 walking the length of the U.S.-Canadian border through wilderness from Maine to Washington- a 5,000 mile walk. Jim corresponded with me that year sending me clippings of media coverage he had received along the way and with those letters accounts of the wonderful people he had met and who had befriended him. His stories about the wilderness and the things he saw were both funny and awe-inspiring. Swallowed up by frozen mountain streams, chased by bears...all great stories to be told around a campfire on a cold winter night. It was on this trip that he or someone on some newspaper dubbed him "Walkin' Jim."
It would be easy to make comparisons between Jim and Thoreau and make reference to Frost's "the road less traveled." According to Jim ,"the road less traveled isn't a road at all."
His life was a testament to his passion and that is what impressed me the most about Jim. Nature called him as a steward long before he even realized it, but it became his overwhelming passion once he took that first step into the wild...into the wilderness. And when he came down from the mountains, he was, in his words, "educated." Nature filled him up and eventually overflowed in him. It was this overflowing that created the music, poetry and stories of the wisdom that could be learned from nature itself. It taught him and gave him purpose and everything he did after that was filled with the desire to share it with the rest of the world.
I've never known another person quite like that...passionate and committed to the very end.
His passion was the high country... wind and snow, mountains, streams and limitless sky.
There are many YouTube videos featuring Jim and his music performing at schools and such and I listened to several of them this past week having learning that he was gone. For me it sums up a philosophy that Jim so obviously subscribed to. He sings about the importance of "taking that first step"...and then the next. It is a lesson about faith and confidence and also persistence and commitment.
I mentioned earlier the large poster on my bedroom wall that I got from Jim in Junior High, you know, the bottom of two bare feet, the picture that struck both Jim and me as being so random and cool. I must admit that knowing what I know now...forty years later, it does not seem so random, but it is so very very cool.

Betrayer

I wish I could pin it down
the moment, I mean
The moment when I determined that it was worth it.
The exact second when I resolved
that I was more important than you.
And all that had come before

our history...our bond...forsaken for her.
forsaken for glimpses of fleeting passion.
betrayed behind trusted eyes and sacred vows.
When did our love become so small?
so insignificant that deceit took it's place
and locked you out.

Betrayer, corrupter ...that serpent at my ear
that ferocious flaw that withers good and bleeds the heart
that blink of conscience that cleans the lie and sets me free.
Free to taste temptation, absolved of all consequence
save the demon that remains
In my restless wanting, I lost myself and you.

Resurrection

I dug you up tonight
from deep down in the earth
your resting place for untold years
disturbed the sacred ground
and dragged you from the scene

I propped you up tonight
reposed gravely silent on the couch
your frail remains lit by pale moonlight
a pallid corpse in eerie shroud
a dearth of flesh remained

hollow sockets where sweet emerald eyes once shined
a smile...those lips...now left in ghastly grimace fixed
hair spun from raven angels undone by mortal webs
soft curves conquered by brittle bones of unmarrowed pore
once beating heart absent in this frigid coil.

love me...love me again. fill me with forgotten joy
revive me with your cold caress, arise in bold defiance
of all that would destroy you.
Heal me with your kind embrace, save me from my walking death
love me...please love me again...give me life again

abandoned pride revealed in grotesque desperation
and from this visage no soft whispers came
no apology, no regret, no comfort spoke
despite my manic pleadings, all ignored. complacent to the end
splintered passion hung heavy in the air

I cannot put you back
among the worms whose feast has turned you
beneath the soil in morbid solitude
wrapped in death's linen
life begs to death and death to life remembered

I cannot put you back
I will not put you back

Raven

Tender words pierced not her heart
eloquence sincere fell deaf upon her ears
It was disdain and contempt that moved her.
shallow love stirred deep passions there.
blood red desire bubbled hot and fed dark thoughts.
eternal devotion struck ne'r a chord of intimate restraint
she was a soul unimpressed by gentle cravings and soft strokes of finger tips.
Overcome with baser delights, content with her own black romance
And so she settled light upon her bed and knew fulfillment only in passing.
Love so sad, unfurled in haste
and perfect in it's emptiness.

R.S.

I feel you too much
bare naked to your touch and promise
beat down by the illusion of a destiny yet awaiting
damned disarming lie of such

your kiss wet upon my lips
that chill brushed lightly from tongue to hips
mocking my will to dismiss you
wash away this stubborn stain with tender tears

then let them dry so that I
may once again return to stone.

Obama Creates New Cabinet Post

Newswire
Times- Picayune
April 9,2010






Unnamed sources from the White House have confirmed that R. Otis, self-proclaimed time traveler and announced presidential 2012 candidate, has re-emerged recently and had several closed door conferences with President Barack Obama regarding his proposed temporal sabotage platform. Otis revealed his plans to basically re-write history if elected when he posted his so called "Undo List" on the internet sparking controversy and accusations of mental instability and labelling him "just another wingnut from the Left." The official word is that their final meeting discussed the possible formation of a new envoy post for Otis that included as part of the deal abandoning his presidential candidacy in 2012. Otis is said to be giving the offer thoughtful consideration. Otis made a brief statement after a photo appeared on line showing himself and President Obama enjoying drinks and conversation at a New Orleans French Quarter night spot. "It is no accident that Obama's healthcare plan finally passed, and there is more progress to come in the coming months...watch for it." Otis also added that "if I choose not to run in 2012, I foresee Obama winning his second term...and that's all I will say about that right now."

So...What's The Story?

Meet Steve...self-proclaimed ultra conservative and reluctant entrepreneur. I am using the picture on the right without his permission so I suspect I'll be hearing from his attorney shortly. Just kidding...he'll probably just have my legs broken. Seriously though, Steve Chapman came closest to being my manager, agent, promoter, producer and spiritual adviser over anyone. Frankly, people weren't standing in line for the priviledge but he took it upon himself to help bolster my music career and help me get heard.

Steve had a lot of talent back in those days. He was a musician himself and he knew virtually everyone else out there who wanted to play too. Anyone familiar with our small town of Slidell back then could tell you that it was tough to get noticed because there were very few venues of opportunity available. Enter Steve. Steve Chapman was always thinking of ways to make money and a lot of those ways involved me investing money in those ideas. I was always skeptical but I have to give him his due. I watched in amazement as he opened his own music store with virtually no money and I saw first hand what a flair for organization and sales he had while he sweet talked representatives from music companies. Without going into a long explanation let me just say that Steve was responsible for encouraging me to write and record my music. Not only that, but he set up the recording sessions through connections that he had and at one point arranged to have my music played on the local radio station while at the same time promoting his store. I believe that's called marketing. In a perfect world Steve would have been an agent or concert promoter and I would have been a star because he saw potential in a lot of people who had no clue about self promotion.

Over the decades Steve never veered far from his love of music and the hardware it took to make it happen but I will always wonder how things would have turned out if he had himself been pushed to at least try his hand at realizing his own larger dreams.

Jamie

Not everything I write is about me and that is the case with this song. Jamie Abney was a girl who worked with me at the theater in Slidell back in the mid-seventies. The song was the result of a conversation between Jamie and me about her boyfriend of many years. It is written in that form with recollections of how the two were seemingly falling out of love. The core message of the song is obvious as one listens and furthermore I still believe it is true even today. On a side note, I was inspired to write this song after hearing a recording of a Kris Kristofferson 1970 composition called "Casey's Last Ride." I was impressed with the power of his lyrics and his ability to create and tell a story so poignantly.

"Casey's Last Ride" was recorded later by Johnny Cash and then even later by John Denver. I began to consider that maybe songwriting could actually be it's own reward above and beyond performing.

The New Horizon

I met Marian for the first time in the Spring of 1979. She was searching for a piece of sheet music one Saturday morning and walked into my friend's music store while I was visiting him.

She walked in the door while we were in mid conversation and the minute I saw her I was struck by her look. Her long blonde hair fell softly down on her shoulders and her complexion possessed an ethereal quality of delicateness and fragility that pierced my heart. Dressed in jeans, she wore a flattering sheer peasant-style top with string straps, one that stubbornly insisted on slipping off her shoulder, and as she spoke her voice was soft and sweet. As I recall she could not find what she was looking for but as I fumbled to find out more about her she confessed that she might be looking for a job of some sort for the summer after graduation. I suggested that she apply at the movie theater where I worked hoping I would again see or hear from her. At the time I really didn't think she would follow up but she did. At the risk of sounding like a jerk I must confess that I wanted to date her more than I wanted to hire her. And that's how it began. The relationship escalated quickly and I got my first clear indication of her impetuous nature when she made me wait outside in front of her house one night as she went inside and cancelled her date for prom to go with me instead. And the afternoon of her graduation she turned her beautiful blonde hair orange while trying to add highlights. That's what I loved about her.

That was the beginning, but the end came soon in late Fall of that year when I visited her at college to watch her in a theater production on campus. As much as I enjoyed the play, the relationship was already over. She knew it but I didn't. Her plans included Barbizon Modeling School and involvement in the Drama Department at college. She had found at least two other admirers at school that had no knowledge of me whatsoever. The big revelation for me though was that she fully intended to pursue some kind of career in live theater. I understood her desire to do that. I myself wanted to play music and be on stage and be admired...dare I say adored by fans and audiences. At that time I had stopped playing rock music and instead concentrated on songwriting and acoustic performances. I cut my hair and trimmed my beard. It was for me a more satisfying experience. My idols at the time were Jim Croce, John Denver and Dan Fogelberg. I wanted to do what they did. So I tried. My songs were personal and heartfelt and crafted from my own heartbreak and sorrow. The recordings that I made back then were done hastily and with little knowledge of the process. The studio in Slidell was small and the sound engineer was a guy named Joe who for eighty dollars and a bottle of scotch agreed to oversee the sessions. The song that accompanies this photo from 1979 (provided by Marian) is written for and about Marian. It's just me and my guitar. Girls have been the inspirations for countless songs through the years ( Walk Away Renee, My Sharona,etc.) and my songs are no different The relationship lasted for less than a year but in it's brief time contained more than it's share of low and high drama. There is another song written for her called "My Poetess, My Troubadour" and it was composed while we were still together but never recorded. I have posted the lyrics to that song on my blog as well. It was meant to be a duet but it too was filled with romantic fatalism...love lost and lamented. That's just my style.

Me and Jesus

Up until my high school years I was pretty much the dutiful Christian boy having been conditioned to love Jesus with all my heart by parents who unfalteringly believed every word in The Holy Bible. My parents were faithful conservative Southern Baptists and because they were, my sister and I were too. I was taught to believe in an omnipresent God, The Holy Spirit and, most importantly to me, Jesus Christ of Nazareth as the human embodiment of God Almighty. Before his death in 2005 My father was an avid reader and student of history. He read countless books on biblical history and ancient civilizations and he used that information to solidify his knowledge,credibility and faith as a Christian. My mother was then and still is a gentle comforting Christian spirit who never faltered from her faith. I watched her for many years as she assumed the role of the powerful but comforting hand of God. As if on call for the Almighty, she arrived in the middle of the night and at all hours of the day at people's homes or in hospital rooms to pray with and comfort those who were troubled or in pain or near death. I was humbled by the goodness of my parents. I hesitate to say any more because frankly after I left for college and got out from underneath their parental influence, I began to search for my own truth. Some would say there is no truth, there is only opinion and with that thought in my head I looked outside of Christian literature with it's pre-conceived conclusions and illogical incongruities contained in the scriptures. Perhaps that was where I made my first mistake...questioning the veracity of religious tenets by examining contradictory viewpoints. And I read them all. I scoured book stores for books on the life of Jesus and the early church. I read books about how so called biblical miracles were performed with explanations on how ignorant people in ancient civilizations were duped into believing they were witness to God's wrath and power. I read several books on flying saucers, time travel and ancient alien astronauts that claimed to explain away events previously misinterpreted as visitations from angels and messengers of God. Demons were explained away as mental disorders and miracles performed by Jesus were merely tricks of technology known only to him and the planet where he really came from. It all sounds ridiculous but I gave all these ideas thoughtful consideration because I was searching for God and the Truth and I was never convinced that any one school of thought was sufficient. I was particularly impressed with a book written by Michael Moorcock in 1969 with the provocative title "Behold The Man." It was a science fiction story about a man named Karl who was himself searching for truth...and he was a man with a time machine. And who could forget "Jesus Christ Super Star" and the 1973 movie with the same name. It portrayed Jesus in a different way but also in a different light... as a man not truly convinced of his divinity and furthermore unconvinced that he has to die. These are the images and ideas that have brought me to where I am today...believing in God but with doubts about who and what Jesus really was. I really do wish I felt differently. It would be simpler...more of a comfort... but for all I've seen and heard... nothing...even just simple faith...is sufficient so far to make me a true believer. I am still waiting. Don't quote the standard "He's at the door knocking...you just have to let Him in." It's a cliche to me.

I remember singing hymns in church as a young boy standing next to my father and looking up past the back of the Baptist Hymnal into his face. It was full of joy and assurance as he sang his distinctive harmony to "The Old Rugged Cross." It was my favorite too. Oh, how I wish I could feel that way again. To be re-convinced of what is true.

Quantum Candidate Under Homeland Security Microscope

AP Newswire

March 1,2010

R. Otis, Louisiana resident and self-proclaimed time traveler candidate for president of the United States, returned home over the weekend after being questioned by Homeland Security officials and released without incident following what Otis called "an extensive and invasive scrutiny of my identity and personal life." Otis had little else to say other than that DNA samples were taken and compared, followed by protracted Q&A sessions all designed to ascertain the veracity of his claims regarding his bizarre candidacy. Said Otis with a touch of sarcasm,"The premises where I currently live were searched in an attempt to uncover any device that could be construed as a threat to national security. My civil liberties were violated on numerous occasions but I knew that was to be expected with the world being the way it is today."

Otis confirmed that he will continue his bid for the White House because he feels it is the best way to proceed but he noted that he does not need it to accomplish his goals. "I would prefer to have the blessing of the American people but many are unwilling to acknowledge what lies ahead for this country if we don't take these measures."

Quantum Candidate Summoned To White House

AP Newswire

February 18,2010

Sources from the White House will neither confirm or deny that 27 year old Louisiana resident R Otis was compelled by the FBI to appear before President Obama to further explain his claims of being able to travel through time and manipulate historical world events. Otis has in recent weeks announced his intentions to seek the highest office in the U.S. in a presidential bid for 2012. His candidacy may well be the most bizarre ever attempted. Nationally known political figures such as Mitt Romney and Sarah Palin have dismissed the campaign as an act of desperation on the part of a man who sees no real solutions in sight. Romney, who himself is positioning for another run for the White House in 2012, reprimanded the media for even treating Otis as a serious contender for any public office. Said Romney", he looks like a left over hippie from the Sixties...just what we need in the White House."

Who's Kidding Who?

AP Newswire

February 9, 2010

In a story that should be listed under News of The Weird, Sarah Palin, pseudo-political spokesperson for the dubious Tea Party Movement, today singled out a Louisiana resident for ridicule for his fledging presidential campaign platform advocating time travel. In an attempt to field questions about her own suitablity as a serious candidate in 2012 she dismissed charges that she was merely a publicity hound, seeking celebrity and attention to only sell books and cited R. Otis as an example of what is wrong with American politics. "Who in their right mind would seriously vote for a nut job like this?", asks Palin. "Quiz him on the issues, ask him what he reads and find out if he's even a real U.S. citizen. Then call the paddy wagon and the men in white coats and let them have a go at him." Palin is mimicking the thoughts of others from down South who have voiced concerned as to whether Otis poses a threat to others around him.

Marilyn Porter, a Covington resident and casual acquaintance of Otis since 2005 whom she met while the two were involved with the Hurricane Katrina clean up in Southeast Louisiana, claims that Otis seemed friendly and personable when she first met him and still believes that he is a rational person who may have let a joke go too far. Porter explains, "Otis talks a lot about all the trouble in the world and how nothing gets done. He often takes long walks to think things through. He himself will go into these moods and be preoccupied with stuff he won't talk about."

Porter continues, "I'll say this, if he could travel through time...actually go back and fix things, I would absolutely give him my vote. As far as I know he's never lied to me yet. But you should ask him."

Otis has been cautious and very measured in his campaign so far, publishing only a handful of videos asking for support. He is adamant in his reluctance to, in his words, feed the media with sound bites and photo ops. He most recently posted on YouTube a campaign video outlining an apparent trip back into time to "undo" certain events. Otis describes the video as a schedule of temporal sabotage and dismisses the fear-mongering of those who have called it a historical "hit list." In a final attempt to discredit Otis,Palin alluded to a quote of her own making reference to President Obama's promises. and mocked the self proclaimed Quantum Candidate with these final words. "Hey Quantum boy, how's that "timey" ,"changey" thing working out for ya?"

Quantum Questions Continue Concerning Candidate

Newswire

Times-Picayune

February 4th 2010

Accusations of the existence of a historical hit list by self proclaimed time traveler R Otis surfaced to day upon the posting of a "temporal sabotage" campaign video by the Otis campaign camp. Otis says he posted the list to increase understanding by the populace of his proposed presidential platform for 2012. Otis elaborated on the message in his video and expressed frustration at the mischaracterization of his intentions

"It is obvious to me that this government lacks the capacity to learn from it's mistakes. Lessons learned from history have been short lived and ultimately fruitless. Partisan politics continues to delay the fix that we need. I simply say, if we can't learn from history, then we have to change it."

Otis also expresses amusement at those who scoff at the idea of time travel, but at the same time condemn his list as a real threat. "Their hypocrisy does not surprise me. I can answer their criticism by asking them this question, "what would you change if you could, and to what end would you justify those changes? I ask everyone to think about that and to also see those changes as possible."

Reporters still doubt his credentials and when asked about that subject he offered this explanation while standing next to the 56 year old R Otis who has offered the younger Otis residence in Covington. "The two people you see in front of you today are one and the same.Some of you have already figured this out. I arrived here in 2005 from the year 1980 and when I am finished with the work that must be done that is where I will eventually return."

Project Spartan: The New Conservatism

What is the response to fear of socialism? I think it will eventually be fascism. Scott Brown the new proclaimed superstar of the Republican party says he's for abortion rights and I think it has more significance than just trying to appeal to women voters. It is a natural assumption that he is already testing the waters for a campaign in 2012 and yes, you have to sway those women who already like him for his apparent good looks. Conservatism desperately needs a new poster boy, one that does not look familiar, predictable and most of all ancient. But I think his stand on abortion provides us with a morbid foreshadowing of the new platform of the re-tooled Republican Party. It will in one fell swoop solve all problems, at least for some. It has to do with a reality check and facing grim truths about what it is to be human and mortal. I frequently refer to the term "survival of the fittest" which is a tenet of conservatism that justifies neglecting the needs of the poor or weak members in our society. An ambitious conservative recently made the analogy that suggested that poor people are like stray animals that shouldn't be fed because it would reward what he saw as irresponsible behavior. In effect he was saying that they should be allowed to die since they do not serve the system and moreover they drain the system of resources that could be used for more efficient use elsewhere. It is a popular idea among some far right groups already who support such thinking because they exist in a world of self denial where such inhumane policies, they feel, would never reach them or touch them in any future eventuality.

Spartan society was known for its practice of testing the worth of a male by setting him out in the wilderness to either survive or succumb to the natural forces of nature. Survival of the Fittest, if you will. It was meant to weed out weakness in their society and leave living to the more deserving. I think that's what the new conservatives are toying with today...the idea that too many people do too little to contribute to the vigor of our nation. Who can argue with the numbers? And it is about numbers. Frankly, there are too many damn people in this country.

The U.S. Population is at a little over 300 million currently. Apparently they all want access to food, shelter and healthcare. But to what end? Why help people who either can't or won't help themselves? The only logical solution is to eliminate that drain on our nation's resources. Do not feed, clothe, heal or otherwise assist those who can't make it on their own. And the next logical step would be zero population growth restrictions. We need to whittle down the number of people in this country to do away with unemployment. There are too many people needing too many jobs. The only problem with that method is that it would take too long to realize the benefits of such a plan. Mass extermination of undesirable citizens would be far more effective and results would be immediately realized. It would be an ultimate solution... a final solution... to a problem that just doesn't seem to want to go away. Today's technology can help those in power to determine who fits the bill of an asset or a liability to the new corporate conservative government. They have files on everybody, don't they? Your personal worth to our nation could be determined in the time it takes to peruse your employment and health history on a laptop. That's called efficiency.

Some students of history might think this proposal of new conservatism too closely resembles the "Night of Broken Glass" scenario of Nazi Germany. But honestly, who remembers that? That was so long ago and frankly, I'm not even sure that it even happened. People do have a tendency to exaggerate. Anyway, it's something to think about. Look for signs of this new attitude among the foot soldiers of the new conservatism. These new faces you are likely to see are looking for new ideas to revitalize a party that has lost it's way. I call the new conservative platform Project Spartan but I'm sure they will come up with something far more cool sounding. I can't wait to hear.

Penn Chapel

The road to Penn Chapel ...isn't the same

...that old shack...taken by the storm

...that old winding road leads to other places now...unknown to me

...dim shadows fall across that path ...that path to nothing

...dreams once dreamed...it was a flimsy love......... a foolish heart

...held together with careful tears

...there was that longing...that wanting

...unfulfilled...a thousand yesterdays ago.

My Take On Football

It was November of 1970 when then Saints kicker Tom Dempsey hit a 63 yard field goal in Tulane Stadium. It did not mean that much to me at the time. I was not a great follower of football or of any sport back then. When other folks were glued to their TV sets and radios on Saturdays and Sundays I was conspiring to become a rock star, devoting my time to listening to my favorite bands and learning the licks of the guitar idols of the day. I am not by nature a competitive person but more to the point, I was never interested in learning player stats and franchise histories and keeping up with the constant trading of players from one team to another. I suppose I could have done both but it is my habit of concentrating on one thing at a time and music was my passion. I suppose it pained my father to watch me turn into an anti-sports fan. Let's face it, some of us were never cut out for athletics and to cheer for people who can make more money on a Sunday afternoon sitting on a bench than I make all year doesn't make sense to me. But let's talk about what does make sense to me...chasing women. To make a long story short , its how I finally got interested in Saints football. I don't know why I never got into high school football and the whole "my school's better than your school" but I didn't. I went to Slidell High and our mascot was a tiger and our crosstown rivals were the Salmen Spartans. We took great delight in perverting their name and calling them the Fish...get it, Salmen, salmon, fish? But I digress. They called us the Pussies...(do I have to explain that?) The whole thing was fun but pointless since I was dating a girl from Salmen at the time and did not hate their school for that reason. That was in 1970. My time at LSU was no different. I went to maybe half a dozen games in Tiger Stadium with a date but my only real memory of football at LSU was living in the dorm right next to the stadium and hearing the crowds at the home games from my dorm room. I also remember being chased down by campus police on one particular night when I lost my ticket for the student section.

In 1979 I met a girl that would change my attitude about sports at least as far as the Saints were concerned. Two words...season tickets. Her family let me tag a long to a Saints home game in the dome and I got hooked thereafter. The energy from the game and the fans enthusiasm

was intoxicating ( or it may have been the alcohol, not sure.) And there it was and there it began...my cycle of joy and anguish over the accomplishments of complete strangers who didn't know me from Adam. I had become a loyal fan whose happiness was now dependent on the Saints ability to post a W instead of an L. My Sunday ritual was well established...sitting two inches from the TV screen and agonizing over every play. You didn't want to be in the room when things didn't go their (my) way. It was a weekly test of my blood pressure and emotional stability. It went that way for 12 years. I still wonder how I lasted that long.

In 1991 the Saints with Bobby Hebert at the helm lost to Atlanta in a playoff game that succeeded in pushing me over the edge to the point where I resorted to a kind of self-mutilation...in total frustration I shaved off my beard. A beard I had grown and cared for since 1976 (my bicentennial beard.) The names and faces of past Saints flew by in my mind in rapid montage...owners, investors, players, coaches...god, how many had there been and how many more would there be before The Saints proved there worth? John Mecom, Tom Benson, Bum Phillips, Jim Finks, Jim Mora, Jim Hazlett, Mike Ditka (...yes Mike Ditka)...Kenny Stabler,Archie Manning, Morten Andersen, Rickey Jackson, Pat Swilling, Dalton Hilliard...on and on.

The team that you cheered for in the beginning at Tulane Stadium was an ever changing animal. The only thing that remained the same was the franchise name and to me that was like rooting for a corporation and not a specific roster of beloved players. The thing about football fans that gets me is that in the final analysis they support the idea of a constant team that is never really constant. Coaches and players switch team jerseys in the blink of an eye with no sense of loyalty to the fans who live and die by the success of "their" team ( I'm talking to you Hebert, and Manning) and yet the fans forgive them... but honestly... it made me feel like a fool.

I stopped watching football that year and even now when the Saints appear to be finally on their way to validation I will not watch them. They lost me, but they probably don't care. Bottom line...everybody needs a hero...someone to believe in. If any city ever needed one it is the city of New Orleans. And I will concede that. Bobby Hebert went from Saint to Falcon then back again to the leader of the Who Dat Nation cheering on the likes of Drew Brees, Reggie Bush, Sean Payton and some guy named Garrett Hartley. As I understand it , he is a kicker and a game saver. I wonder if he could make it from 63 yards out.

A Quantum Leap of Logic

Newswire Times-Picayune

January 21,2010

The still small voice of the so called Quantum Candidate who announced his candidacy for the White House in 2012 has received little encouragement from established political organizations. That may be due to his refusal to talk to the media and also to his insistence to bypass established political processes for qualifying for the office. His credentials are dubious since he cannot even provide the most basic documents to confirm his identity and nationality. That may trouble some, but those on the outer fringe of politics and science have what they believe is the answers to questions surrounding the man who is by some accounts claiming to be able to travel through time.

Philip Wells , a local St. Tammany businessman and admitted fan of science fiction, says he believes the presence of two individuals claiming to be R. Otis can be easily explained by a phenomenon known as a "Self Visitation Paradox." For those not versed in time travel mythology, a "Self Visitation Paradox" refers to the hypothetical existence of two "versions" of the same individual existing together in a given time frame due to one version or the other traveling through time and confronting himself. Wells, although skeptical of such an occurrence, insists that it would explain one mystery and confirm the other claim, that Otis has the ability to actually travel through time as some have surmised by his comments. Wells was quick to add that such a condition would represent a danger to the two versions of the individual. The paradox would have a tendency to attempt to resolve the time-space problem by cancelling out one of the individuals especially if they actually meet and touch one another. Otis has been silent in recent days and has not been available to deny the speculations about his identity.

Where Are All Of The Wise Men?

If you were like me several years ago you were always wondering how things would go if, for a period of time, the country was controlled by a conservative president and majority conservative congress and, at another time, a liberal president with a majority liberal congress.. We would actually get to test the tenets of conservativism and liberalism against each other and see which actually delivered positive results. Since I first had that thought we have since got our wish on that and I have to say I'm bewildered at how little gets done when either side has clear advantage over the other. In the case of Bush in 2000 he was basically starting with a clear slate. We had just finished eight years of relative peace and prosperity and Clinton had just delivered the first balanced budget with surplus in over twenty years. Bush was given the key to that "lock box" full of cash and America was hopeful that great things would get done. The problem with the Bush administration is that it was given permission by the voting public (I think) to fix what was basically not broke. Bush and his cohorts went through that money like frat boys through their daddys' trust fund and eight years later it was a matter of history that it was "an epic fail" . To be fair about this, Obama and his democratic comrades did not start with a clear slate from the previous administration as did Bush. In fact the closer it came to the end of his watch the clearer it became that greed,corruption and personal enrichment was their true face. Where did those pallets of money finally wind up? It was as if the intention of the Bush administration was to deliberately empty the government's checking account all along and leave the new administration with nothing in which to accomplish it's agenda. It dramatically re-established the distribution of wealth back to banks ,private corporations and America's wealthiest , and left the average Americans and their government with the bill and no means to pay it. I find it particularly interesting that politicians cry out for national patriotism from the masses while being lead around by their noses by American corporations who have long ago "gone global." But back to the issue at hand. Given their advantage at present the Democratic liberal agenda is strangely absent. For a year now the conservative minority has called the shots against a liberal majority,,,but how? I suppose it's the curse of liberalism to view all issues as complex things needing endless discussion and pruning to get them just right before committing to anything. It's unsettling for someone like me to admit it, but our Democratic representatives at present seem only concerned about their own personal survival in the political arena at the forsaking of the large groundbreaking and risky issues that they have championed (at least publicly) for so long. What a bunch of impotent public servants they are. Hypocritical and self serving. But all you conservatives out there shouldn't start cheering just yet. Conservative representatives excel at filibustering liberal issues but what have they actually delivered to the American public save the tax breaks for the wealthiest of the wealthy? To quote a liberal blogger, "Americans who "self-identify as conservative" rather than liberal are for the most part, low-information Americans." They claim membership in a club that doesn't really serve them.

Ask yourself this question, "what has any politician at the national level done for you except vote us into war and bankrupt the nation? Anybody? This is my question at this point, "where are all of the wise men that we elected to office?" All we really ever get is sly men...savvy officials who play the system but produce no results. In our current desperation we may mistakenly assign wisdom to people who run for office simply because they are nationally recognizable but who in reality have no clue or compulsion to drastically change the status quo. In the early formation of a political career certain ideas are engrained on the mind of the aspiring "public servant." For starters,they all read Ayn Rand's The Fountainhead" and "The Art of War" by Sun Tzu. One preaches that some human beings are more important than others, and the other is effectively used as an example of a political war manual applying ancient winning war strategies to winning political strategies. Oh well I guess they have to read something. But somewhere along the way they have lost their capacity to truly serve and we as a nation have lost our ability to discern between a saviour and a conman. Do you know the difference?

Quantum CrackPot Or Messianic Mess?

NewsWire

Times-Picayune January 19th 2010

"The country, and the world, is too far gone to be fixed by traditional means. The conflicts and misery that we find ourselves in now must be undone another way." So started our phone conversation with R Otis the self-proclaimed "Quantum Candidate" who quietly voiced his intention to take the White House in 2012. "I will assume responsibility for undoing the damage and setting things right.", Otis continued. "It must be done through technology that up until now has been kept from you. It may sound trite but it just takes time...more to the point, it takes the manipulation of Time as we know it. You have asked me to explain my statement "Time Heals Time" and that is the answer."

Stunned reporters listened as R Otis apparently advocated time travel as a viable solution to the problems currently plaguing our nation. Otis, looking like a cross between Jesus and a 60's throwback hippie, claims to have the means to carry out such a plan that most rational persons would dismiss as foolish and ridiculous. "He's been watching too much Doctor Who if you asked me.", said James Walker of Mandeville. "Who wouldn't want to do that...but it's science fiction."

Kelly Newman of Covington was equally suspicious. "So is that what it comes down to...Time Travel....he's a time traveler? Is that not an absurd notion?"

Otis smiled as he was told about the comments of others who painted him as a crackpot with messianic aspirations. "I make no claim to being a messiah...that is what you say. I am proposing a solution ...the solution for saving the nation and by doing so possibly the world. It will however require more than a magical wave of a hand."

Background checks on Otis have come back with no information which will by default arouse suspicion as to who he really is. Although he lives in a residence owned by R Otis, age 56, he is no relation to the older man who has chosen to take him in. There is a resemblance that suggests that they are in some way related but that is pure speculation whereas no documentation exists to confirm that thought. Reporters pressed him on the issue of his true identity and how he proposed to qualify to run as a viable candidate without proof of birthplace and year and other such information needed. He reiterated his intention to seek the office through unconventional means basically bypassing the election process and relying on eventual nationwide public support. In the mean time Otis continues to preach his doctrine of "Time Heals Time." His new campaign material hit the internet this past weekend with the hard hitting message of a nation headed for self-inflicted destruction or National Suicide.

A New Piece To The Puzzle?

Newswire: Times-Picayune

January 15th,2010

As if the story could get any stranger, reporters travelling to the home of the so-called "Quantum Candidate" in Covington were met at the door by a different face claiming to be R Otis.

The person they saw today was an older man, estimated to be in his mid-fifties, and although he was adamant in his claim to the name, he did acknowledge that there was another Otis residing at the same address and matching the description of the newly announced candidate. "I do not speak for him. He will explain himself in due time. That is my hope."

Questions Still Loom Over Quantum Candidate

Newswire: Times-Picayune

January 14th, 2010 Speculation about self announced candidate R Otis increased today as curious citizens voiced confusion as to what Otis has in mind for the country. His introduction into a race that actually hasn't even started yet gave people reason to doubt his true intentions. Several citizens who have viewed his campaign material seem unconvinced that he is for real. Susan Taylor, an educator from St. Tammany Parish where Otis resides had this to say.

"It's hard to take someone seriously who, frankly, looks more like a wannabe rock star than a public servant. Maybe if he cleaned himself up and explained where he stands on issues."

John Hunter, a real estate agent and resident of Slidell in St. Tammany Parish shared Taylor's concern. " I knew Otis many years ago and he apparently hasn't changed much. He sports that look ...you know...I probably shouldn't say this but,... that hippie,Jesus freak look left over from the 60's. I remember that he used to hang out in those circles...the coffee shops where folk music was played and Jesus People hung out. He was always looking for answers...he was obsessed with that stuff. Heaven knows what he has in mind now. Becoming President?...Is that it? That'll be the day."

Times-Picayune reporters tracked Otis down today at his home in Covington but he had little to say. He shunned attempts to further clarify his stand on issues and would not consent to the taking of any photos. "I will appeal to the public in my own way and time. I have little use for the media as it is today. They themselves are a part of the problem." When asked about his chosen slogan of "The Quantum Candidate" he was again vague.

"What I am will eventually become obvious. I will only say this today...time heals time."

The Time Has Come To Believe Again

October Night/ 1988

It's 2:00am and I'm alone in the house tonight. The rain began about an hour ago, and now, through the window I can see the wind strengthening...the tops of the trees whipping back and forth. A fence separates the back yard from a wooded area just beyond. How far those woods go back and where they lead... I do not know, but they are filled with tall, dark, misshapened trees with limbs that cast eerie shadows that stretch even as far as the concrete patio. On the curtains the shadows move like bony fingers scratching on the bricks of the house. The sound the wind makes as it whistles through the treetops is frightening...sort of unsettling.

Now the television has gone blank except for the static...the white noise coming from the speaker. At least I think it's coming from there...the sound could be the noise that the storm is creating outside...the constant downpour of the rain. It is the kind of night when I feel isolated from reality...it is the kind of night when I hear sounds from dark corners and from the other side of closed doors. Just a moment ago I heard a shuffling...like something being dragged across the ground just outside the door that opens on to the patio and the back yard. Just now I heard someone or something scratching at the kitchen window from out in the dark. When I checked the window there was nothing there except some small clumps of dirt and mud smeared across the sill...and a kind of handprint...barely visible. Maybe it isn't a handprint... after all no one in his right mind would be out in this miserable storm...not in his right mind...not even a burglar.

Besides, whatever it might be surely knows that I am here and that the house is not empty. Maybe my imagination is running wild. If only the television would come back on...maybe this icy chill shooting down my spine would go away.

One hour has passed, and now it's starting again...the scratching at the door, but I think it's coming from the front door now. That's odd...very odd. There aren't any trees in the front yard so it couldn't be the trees...and besides...I hear the doorknob turning slowly. I would have sworn that I locked it. The white noise from the television seems to be getting louder. It's very irritating. I think I just heard the front door swinging open with that God awful creaking...like a house warning it's inhabitants of the terror that awaits on the threshold. Perhaps I should calmly walk into the front room and check to see if the wind ...but the doorknob turned...check to see if the wind has somehow blown it opened.

Now I hear it clearly and I feel the blood running out of my face and down to my feet. My name...my name...I think it was my name...spoken by something unearthly or something long dead. If only I could bolt out the back door, I would, but my legs feel numb and my heart is pounding in my chest. My body refuses to react now. If I didn't know better I would think I was going quite mad, but I know it isn't true. Wet, damp footsteps are rounding the corner to the den and I now see the nightmarish figure...pale,grey and decayed, covered in mud and moist dark earth... standing before me with dark. lifeless eyes.

Mystery Man In 2012: What Could It Mean?

Yesterday the first whispers of election 2012 gossip started with the low key announcement by enigmatic figure R Otis that he will be seeking an endorsement from, not an established political party, but the American public directly, bypassing traditional steps to the office of President of The United States of America. An interview conducted by phone revealed his overall plan to successfully take the White House. In this announcement clouded in mystery he was quick to correct any misconceptions about what his plans would be and what he ultimately stands for.

"I won't be doing anything." he insisted. "It's what I'll undo that is important."

Otis has labeled himself as the Quantum Candidate and that has raised some eyebrows in political circles already from those who fail to understand what it means. Otis himself promises to make all things clear in the coming months but in the mean time he asks that the American Public be open to a new kind of virtual candidate. "The American Political landscape is filled with the clutter of failed policies and bad decisions." says Otis. "And I have the means to make all things right. All I ask is that you Believe." More on this story as it develops.

The Time Has Come

Pundits in Perpetuity

The concept of 24 hour news has been totally corrupted by ambitious journalists and would be politicians who see the medium as a way to control and manipulate public opinion to suit their own purposes. What was the original justification for 24 hour news? Well, the world was getting complicated and people began to mistrust the government (thank you Nixon.) It was proposed as a way to keep people satisfied that nothing was happening that they didn't know about. Knowledge is power, right? But what it is now is a form of appeasement that more readily serves a system that makes money and keeps journalists employed. 24 hour news agencies scurry to develop different on air personalities that reflect the prevalent views of Americans to improve their demographics for the purpose of increasing advertising revenue. Ad revenue on cable. I remember when cable was commercial free, but apparently that was just a come on. Media is in cahoots with corporate and political America. How else can it get the inside scoop? Media beats a dead horse. It expounds and elongates issues that are inconsequential in the long run. Most important issues can be summarized in 15 minutes. It has been my experience that Jon Stewart conveys more useful information in a half hour than other "news" organizations do all day long. The rest of the chatter, for some, only serves to numb the public into a feeling of helplessness.

The media portrays itself as a watchdog for the public but it never solves anything. If it did, the system would eventually collapse but it hasn't and it won't. Media and Power sleep in the same doghouse and eat from the same bowl. Its why politicians have a hard time getting things done . Forget the promises that they made to the voters, it ultimately comes down to personal survival in a lucrative, but cutthroat environment. Its a back and forth that preserves the status quo while lulling the public into a mindless state of satisfaction and perceived power. We tell ourselves that nothing gets by us, but 24 hour news is just a soothing chant that subdues the revolutionary mind. Now, turn the TV on and go back to sleep. It's what we do.

How Cold Is It?

On a day like today, my dad would have said "it's colder than a well-digger's butt in Montana." If my mom was out of the room he would have said,"it's colder than a witch's titty." Understood. Baby it's cold outside! It's so cold in my neighborhood, that the neighborhood dogs ( I call them the Disney Dogs) have taken to roasting a racoon nightly in my trashcan while huddled around it and singing inner-city doo wop. They're talented animals. I suppose I could open my barn and let them pay a small room and board fee, but you know, they're not my pets. It's so cold that the birds have taken to iceskating on the frozen water of my pool ala the "Peanuts" gang. I look at it this way, if they survive, it'll be something to tell their granddogs and grandbirds about. Nature takes care of it's own. I also suspect that the head dog, Bailey, is hot wiring my car at night and sleeping in the back seat...sometimes it smells like frosty dog hair in the morning and the gas gauge reads differently. I suppose one has to admire that kind of resourcefulness in a domesticated animal, however; If I find out that she is taking my car for a warm spin at night, I'll be totally pissed.

After a week like this, the Global Warmers have lost all credibility with me. On the upside, I'm not sure if my lawn will ever grow back and that's ok. I'm tired of cutting it anyway. In any case this weather is giving the continental jet stream a bad reputation. It has lost it's way and worn out its welcome down here in the South. How cold is it? Two words...snow balls...and not the good kind either. Get ready people...it's gonna be that kind of year.

Remembrance / 1963

She was that simple light that danced in his eyes

That lunatic trembling, gentle brilliance

Sweet blindness in angelic flight

Soaring to the depths, ascending to the abyss

That cool burn, searing flesh and memory

Cosmic Drug consumed unaware

Love's likeness glistening on icy chrome

Men and Monsters and Sideways Rain

I was encouraged by the news at the end of the year that Karl Rove was going through a divorce and Rush Limbaugh was in the hospital near death. Could Dick Cheney's spontaneous combustion be far behind? My first thought?...maybe God does answer prayers. I'm teasing of course. We all know that God doesn't answer prayers. In fact if I didn't know better sometimes I think God enjoys bitch slapping a few of us every now and again just to get our attention. The decade just passed was that way for me but more of a kick in the head than a slap. It started with a devastating divorce and ended with an economic disaster rivaling The Great Depression. Kudos on the Karma, Yahweh. In betwixt the beginning and end were two deaths in my family within months of each other, Katrina shortly thereafter and then the slow and painful realization that my employer of 34 years was going under and belly up. In many ways the Decade of The Multiple Zero was just that for me. Adversity with a capital A and zero headway. There's a quote that I like to reference every now and then, by Victor Hugo and it says, "Adversity makes men, Prosperity makes monsters." This past decade serves as proof of that statement. Let's take the last part first...prosperity. In and of itself it is not a bad thing. It means you're doing well and living comfortably. There's nothing wrong with that unless that same prosperity becomes a means to defraud the masses and thereby designate them as acceptable casualties of what we laughingly call democracy and the free market sacred cow. As the smoke has cleared we can finally see the monsters for what they pretend to be. Ambitious, devious, amoral men who disguise themselves as honest politicians and well- meaning public servants; human demons posing as good hearted business men, Wall Street Wizkids and captains of industry...stacking the deck against the average joe. To be fair, it is a system that we all agree to, if not by clear consent certainly then by our apathy and silence. And unfortunately it is this system that feeds the monsters and allows them to grow. It gives them their power and corrupts them so completely that their wickedness becomes an awesome thing to behold. They own it with dark glee. Prosperity turned to extravagance and excess and insulated by privilege and power. Is it any wonder that in this past decade the top 1% of Americans accumulated the largest share of total income since the 1920's, and paid a much lower rate of income tax than 80 years ago. The rich got richer and the poor got poorer. And when you consider that 10 million more workers are competing for the same number of jobs now than in the year 2000 it becomes clear that the majority of us have been had. To quote an enlightened source, "power is a drug on which politicians are hooked. They buy it from the voters, using the voters' own money." Sound familiar? I strongly suspect that even the voting is rigged these days. Politicians and Capitalists ...if you say it fast enough, they almost sound respectable. If God did answer prayers, as a genie grants wishes, He would strike them down for me with impunity as an example of what Supreme righteousness will tolerate from disobedient children. But that will never happen because God does not interfere. He leaves it to us to respond and fix. Which brings me to my next point...which is me. The adversity that I personally suffered over the past decade revealed a part of my nature that had never been tested before. I would stop short of saying that my life had been previously charmed, but for the most part it was easy and fun. Few complaints. Beginning in 2000 though that suddenly changed and the one quality that I possessed that helped me through it all was my odd sense of humor and absurdity. The divorce was no picnic. I drank alone and way too much. I cried and spent many hours of each day feeling sorry for myself and searching for some kind of comfort but there was none. And then I finally woke up and got mad. Good and bad at the same time. I could tell you stories about my behavior back then that would make you laugh and then nod your head in disapproval.

Suffice it to say that certain members of local law enforcement got to know me well. It was during this period that I briefly (overnight) saw the inside of a jail cell for the first time. The officer who supervised the jail was a friend of mine and lovingly referred to his facility as Oz (like the TV show.) I later gave him a "Wizard of Oz" poster to hang in his office as a thank you gift for his hospitality. Soon after, I started my body building phase where I resolved to become a hunk.

After all, I had to get back out into the social scene again and proof to myself and everyone else that I could still hang. I'll just say this. Anger is a great motivator. I got tremendous results and positive reinforcement from those around me. I got the attention of several women...attractive women. It was a new experience for me to be approached and asked out by women who barely knew me, but it happened and it made me cocky once again. It lifted me out of my divorcee mentality and back into a more reckless attitude left over from my youthful single days. But it was short lived and I was uncomfortable with that mindset. I was, after all, a single parent raising two young boys on my own, with little assistance from their mother at the time. It actually got a little dangerous after a while too, because those who went out with me had old relationships that were still warm to the touch. Not quite over yet. I think that was the problem with all of us. We were trying to show others that no serious damage to our pride or ego had been done and that we wouldn't skip a beat between one relationship to another. To be honest I just didn't have it in me to go back to that lounge life on the weekends. It was depressing. Too much time had gone by. I wanted my life back as it had been but things got worse. I developed a hernia that needed fixing and that slowed me down even more. There were rumors at the time that I had fallen deathly ill and was in the hospital. But it was only a hernia repair. My ex laughed and told me that I had been working out too hard. Thanks for the input dear. There was a healing process that had to take place both physically and emotionally for me.

What I had recovered in self confidence was offset by my inability to trust others. I had been so completely blindsided by the betrayal.

As I healed I also made the conscious decision to once again act responsibly as an adult and father. I don't think my children , who were 11 and 8 years old, noticed much at the time. I never showed them that side of myself and I vowed silently to never give them any reason to be ashamed of me or ,for that matter, doubt my love for them. If there was any good thing that came out of the divorce, it was that I stepped up and did the hard work of rebuilding our lives.

It was that same resolve that got me, and my sons,

through the Katrina disaster as the storm ripped through our world, with it's brutal winds and sideways rain, and for awhile I felt as if I had truly been transported to Oz . We had stayed through the storm, and it was magnificent in its ability to destroy all that was familiar to us. There were no witches or munchkins, just destruction. I remember on that particular day when the three of us decided to leave town, not knowing if we would be able to find enough gas to get to a relative's house far enough away to feel like we were back to reality and normalcy. It was a frightening prospect that we might actually find ourselves stranded out in the middle of nowhere. But we did it and when we returned, I took on the awesome responsibility of cleaning up the monumental mess at home and at work. In many respects it was my finest hour as a father and a human being. It made me get up off the floor and do what had to be done.

As the decade ended I again found myself in a world unfamiliar to me. My job was gone and prospects were dismal for finding another. It was a humbling experience and one that I continue to struggle with. I get a strong sense these days that the world is changing for everyone...maybe more dramatically for some than others. But I think the day we'll come in the very near future when we will all have to examine our priorities and step up to the changes facing this country. I hope to have a say in those changes if I am able. One first has to get angry and look at what they are, and then decide what they want themselves, and the world around them, to ultimately be. This decade has provided many of us with what can best be described as the moment of truth..how things really are and what they should be. I hope I can step up.