If anyone actually reads the stuff I write, they will know I'm something less than a daily communicator. Therefore, it would not have come as a surprise if I had neglected this date's occasion, as I have ignored many others. Nevertheless, here, somewhat after what could be called a universal "deadline", I find myself searching for words. It is 7:30 PM in my time zone, there have been no unmanned vehicle crashes, and, as far as I can tell, my neighbors are all safely at home.
I have been invited to several "rapture" parties, but I have declined because I am unsure exactly what their intent was, whether to celebrate or ridicule belief in a recently revealed "end of days" prophecy. I mean what if I jumped up into the air at six o'clock, and no one else did? If anything I am a bit miffed at not having been given a little more notice. I mean how is one supposed to prepare oneself? The Aztecs were much more considerate.
Anyway, I am seriously searching for some way of expressing a certain kind of sympathy that I'm feeling without awakening that ridicule that I also admit to. It's a dichotomy.
Let me ask you a straightforward questi0n, dear reader. Do you find this world and its people so unlovely that you cannot imagine continuing for just one more minute? Are you so dissatisfied that you can't believe in compromise, which is a word that describes how people get along?
Well, if you have answered in the affirmative, then you are not part of the problem, you are the problem itself.
Remember the story about the great oak tree that bends before the hurricane rather than it should break. This is not a foolish fable. All these stupid old stories have instructional value. The important thing is to learn from them. If you don't then who's stupid? Huh?
There is not one of you out there who cannot get along with each other (except for the occasional psychopath) if only you will give it some effort. It is way too damn important for you sluff off and try to blame your lack of success on others.
OK, I've had my go at you, and you're right, I'm not your judge. In fact I'm just as confused as you. But one thing I know is that it's 8:45 PM, and I'm still here. I guess that says something, but I'll be damned if I know what.
Lookout.
Regards,
Daddy
Saturday, May 21, 2011
Friday, April 1, 2011
Atheists and Foxholes
There's been some review lately about the saying that there are no atheists in foxholes. It's one of those sayings that most of us take for granted; it feels like it must be true, although we know it's meant to be a parable. Let's see.
What we're talking about here is fear.
O.K., you're in that foxhole. Small caliber automatic fire is raking the level ground a foot above your head. It's ticking pebbles and dust and twigs over the edge to bounce off your helmet and shoulders. Sooner or later you are going to have to stick your head up into the middle of that, and you already don't want to. At the same time the ground is just thump, thump, thumping under you with the impact of mortar and artillery strikes. Lucky you , you haven't been hit yet like the guy screaming in the next hole. You've only pissed your self, and in that you find some comfort; in all this madness no one will ever notice.
All of a sudden the firing slacks off, thank God. You manage to raise your head and look up. Boring down on you is an enemy A-10. Already you can see the pathway its Gatling is paving, and it is coming straight for you. Now, whether you scream "Oh God, Oh God, Oh God," or "Oh Shit, Oh Shit, Oh Shit,"it doesn't matter. You are about to be dead, and that scares you shitless. If you thought God could help you wouldn't be so frightened, would you?
O.K., let's modify this a little. Suppose you're just a little pissed off (along with being pissed on), and this Wart Hog homing in on you is just one thing too much. Let's say you have an epiphany, accept you're dead, stand up, and as your destruction comes nigh you raise a certain finger on high. Are you being brave? Maybe your sense of justice has simply been outraged. Whatever. It doesn't appear to me that you are in a religious frame of mind.
I think there are plenty of atheists in foxholes, along with believers. However you are able to handle fear and death is a very lonely and personal thing, and no generality is ever going to do justice or honor to those who have been there.
Regards,
Daddy
What we're talking about here is fear.
O.K., you're in that foxhole. Small caliber automatic fire is raking the level ground a foot above your head. It's ticking pebbles and dust and twigs over the edge to bounce off your helmet and shoulders. Sooner or later you are going to have to stick your head up into the middle of that, and you already don't want to. At the same time the ground is just thump, thump, thumping under you with the impact of mortar and artillery strikes. Lucky you , you haven't been hit yet like the guy screaming in the next hole. You've only pissed your self, and in that you find some comfort; in all this madness no one will ever notice.
All of a sudden the firing slacks off, thank God. You manage to raise your head and look up. Boring down on you is an enemy A-10. Already you can see the pathway its Gatling is paving, and it is coming straight for you. Now, whether you scream "Oh God, Oh God, Oh God," or "Oh Shit, Oh Shit, Oh Shit,"it doesn't matter. You are about to be dead, and that scares you shitless. If you thought God could help you wouldn't be so frightened, would you?
O.K., let's modify this a little. Suppose you're just a little pissed off (along with being pissed on), and this Wart Hog homing in on you is just one thing too much. Let's say you have an epiphany, accept you're dead, stand up, and as your destruction comes nigh you raise a certain finger on high. Are you being brave? Maybe your sense of justice has simply been outraged. Whatever. It doesn't appear to me that you are in a religious frame of mind.
I think there are plenty of atheists in foxholes, along with believers. However you are able to handle fear and death is a very lonely and personal thing, and no generality is ever going to do justice or honor to those who have been there.
Regards,
Daddy
Friday, January 28, 2011
Dances With Doofuses
They're rioting in Africa.
There's strife in Iran.
What nature doesn't do to us
Will be done by our fellow man. *
These are the final lyrics of a song I learned in the early 1960's (see below). You should Google the whole thing and see how little has changed.
It seems to me that those who genuinely try to help people only set themselves up to be victimized or even murdered by the local sociopaths
(official or un), while average citizens run about waving their arms to indicate their solidarity or anonymity or both. It's really hard for me to get behind truth and justice for all when I see how far that has gotten since that silly but profound song first came out. Actually, it was funny.......then.
There are days in my life
When everything is dreary
I grow pessimistic
Sad and world weary.
But when I'm tearful and fearfully upset,
I always sing this merry little minuet.
Well, that's the intro to " The Merry Minuet", and maybe if I go over it again I'll be able to get some perspective on the most recent round of whatever the news channels believe is important for us to know.
Good luck to all.
* THE MERRY MINUET (Sheldon Harnick), 1953 musical Almanac, recorded by the Kingston Trio, Tom Lehrer, and Bud and Travis. And performed by me when I was young.
Regards,
Daddy
There's strife in Iran.
What nature doesn't do to us
Will be done by our fellow man. *
These are the final lyrics of a song I learned in the early 1960's (see below). You should Google the whole thing and see how little has changed.
It seems to me that those who genuinely try to help people only set themselves up to be victimized or even murdered by the local sociopaths
(official or un), while average citizens run about waving their arms to indicate their solidarity or anonymity or both. It's really hard for me to get behind truth and justice for all when I see how far that has gotten since that silly but profound song first came out. Actually, it was funny.......then.
There are days in my life
When everything is dreary
I grow pessimistic
Sad and world weary.
But when I'm tearful and fearfully upset,
I always sing this merry little minuet.
Well, that's the intro to " The Merry Minuet", and maybe if I go over it again I'll be able to get some perspective on the most recent round of whatever the news channels believe is important for us to know.
Good luck to all.
* THE MERRY MINUET (Sheldon Harnick), 1953 musical Almanac, recorded by the Kingston Trio, Tom Lehrer, and Bud and Travis. And performed by me when I was young.
Regards,
Daddy
Thursday, January 6, 2011
Crazy Is Fixable
Where were you when the unthinkable happened? When a young girl, a judge, a young man, and three old and honored citizens, one of them a hero in his last act, died; when fourteen others including the Congresswoman who was apparently the main target have been hospitalized. Where were you?
Well, I was right here as usual; looking for meaning, and finding little.
First of all, lets forget about all the tough political talk. Grown ups and most children really do know bullshit when they hear it. So lets not spend any time talking about who's at fault for flapping their mouth. The fact is sane people understand crazy talk for what it is: it's metaphor. However, crazy people are not immune. So, if you're going to talk crazy , you've gotta know you're gonna have a following. Next.
The next thing is the gun. Okay, I have some. Most of my friends have some or at least some experience or memory of using such weapons at some time in their lives. Although many of my friends are hunters, I am not, but that does not mean that I have an issue. What I'm wondering about here is why someone who was known to be unstable was able to buy a gun. Okay, the next thing is the instability.
It sounds like paranoid schizophrenia. This stuff can be controlled with medication. The trick is getting the subject to take the pills. Since he's paranoid he's not going to believe he needs help. Here's how it works.
First of all, don't call the cops. Their job is to maintain order, and they are armed. This can go bad.
What you need to do is call your county mental health center and ask them to recommend a lawyer who'll help.
This lawyer will for a nominal fee (mine was $29.00) petition the court to commit your family member to a psychiatric facility.
The result will be that a couple of sheriff's deputies will show up and take your family member to the hospital rather than the jail. They will be very polite.
In order for this to happen, you're going to have to swear that your family member is a danger to you or themself. Believe me, it's worth it.
The kid will spend some time in a mental hospital and might get stabilized. That's what happened with mine.
I got my son back. He's still not quite happy about the way things happened, but he's willing to work with me and his mom more than he was willing to do before.
Regards,
Daddy.
Well, I was right here as usual; looking for meaning, and finding little.
First of all, lets forget about all the tough political talk. Grown ups and most children really do know bullshit when they hear it. So lets not spend any time talking about who's at fault for flapping their mouth. The fact is sane people understand crazy talk for what it is: it's metaphor. However, crazy people are not immune. So, if you're going to talk crazy , you've gotta know you're gonna have a following. Next.
The next thing is the gun. Okay, I have some. Most of my friends have some or at least some experience or memory of using such weapons at some time in their lives. Although many of my friends are hunters, I am not, but that does not mean that I have an issue. What I'm wondering about here is why someone who was known to be unstable was able to buy a gun. Okay, the next thing is the instability.
It sounds like paranoid schizophrenia. This stuff can be controlled with medication. The trick is getting the subject to take the pills. Since he's paranoid he's not going to believe he needs help. Here's how it works.
First of all, don't call the cops. Their job is to maintain order, and they are armed. This can go bad.
What you need to do is call your county mental health center and ask them to recommend a lawyer who'll help.
This lawyer will for a nominal fee (mine was $29.00) petition the court to commit your family member to a psychiatric facility.
The result will be that a couple of sheriff's deputies will show up and take your family member to the hospital rather than the jail. They will be very polite.
In order for this to happen, you're going to have to swear that your family member is a danger to you or themself. Believe me, it's worth it.
The kid will spend some time in a mental hospital and might get stabilized. That's what happened with mine.
I got my son back. He's still not quite happy about the way things happened, but he's willing to work with me and his mom more than he was willing to do before.
Regards,
Daddy.
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