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.