The Gross National Debt

Tuesday, November 29, 2016

Half off

A Georgia legislator has prefiled a bill for January seeking to ban the sale of "assault" rifles and large capacity magazines in Georgia.

The bill has about as much chance of passing as I do of winning a beauty contest.

In an interview with Georgia News Network, the legislator said the ban is something "half of Georgians want."

Really? Which half?


The problem here is cognitive dissonance (no surprise there) on the part of State Rep. Mary Margaret Oliver, D-Decatur.

"Half" is the problem.

What if it is 51 percent of Georgians who want these weapons banned? That's a majority.

What if 49 percent want these weapons to stay legal? That's a minority.

Oliver and the statists like her enjoy playing the numbers game. They have no problem calling for majority rule UNTIL that majority rule bodyslams their views of what is right and wrong. When that happens, the minority must be protected.

Pick one. Either one. I'm good with it.

But trying to have both? Majority rule and minority protection from majority rule?

Might as well try to drive east and west at the same time in the same vehicle.

If you are paying attention to the current state of politics, this is exactly what we have. Majority rule is OK as long as no one is offended. If that happens, it's wrong and the minorities must be protected from the totalitarian rule of the masses.

Minority protection is OK unless is bucks the wishes of the majority. If that happens, then minority are just a bunch of whiners and should not be allowed to dictate to the masses.

Pick one. I like majority rule myself.

Sunday, November 20, 2016

This ain't a buffet

Had a bit of a revelation this morning. Not in church either.

The revelation led me to ask a question, especially of parents. The question is even more directed at those who support Abominable Care and other initiatives put forth by previous presidents, the outgoing president, by the incoming president and by the incoming president's chief competition in the recent election.

Before I drop the question, a statement - This ain't a buffet. This ain't a cafeteria. This is a chow line. You take what is served, period. You ain't got to eat it, but if you don't, the repercussions are going to be worse than you can imagine.

If the truth hurts, yer living wrong.

So, the question - Why are you willing to kill your child to have the National Health Care Act?

OK, not your child. Your spouse. Someone equally close to you. Yourself.

I have not lost my mind. I remind you, this ain't a buffet. You take what is served, you take all of it and you do not get to pick and choose.

Rephrase: Why are you willing to kill people to get Abominable Care?

If you are still reading, and I suspect I have lost most of my readers now, I will explain to the two who are left.

This ain't a buffet.

You get what the POTUS serves up. You get all of it. If you support the POTUS, then you support everything he does. This is a binary equation. Yes or No. There is no pick & choose. It is all or nothing.

Someone may be spitting and hissing right now. If the truth hurts, yer living wrong. I remind you of this: You do not get to pick which US laws apply to you and which laws do not. This ain't a buffet.

The current POTUS served up Abominable Care. The POTUS also served up more war. 2,499 soldiers have died in the wars under Obama. I picked Obama because he's there right now. I can do the same with any president of your choice.

If you supported this POTUS, you are as guilty of killing them as he is. Both are more guilty in my mind than those defending their land. We invaded. They fought back. Someone breaks into your home, would you them run roughshod?

"No, I am not guilty of those deaths."

This ain't a buffet. You can say you separate the actions, but this reality we both share says the same man did both. If you support the man, then you support the man. Period. Which part of the man do you support? HIs left hand? His right hand? His spleen? Not his heart and not his liver?

Estimates top 30,000 people killed over there under Obama. These are fighters, men and women just trying to make a living and children.

How many innocent people have to be blown apart by bombs to make sure you get health care? How many children have to be orphaned? How many lives have to be literally ripped apart to make sure you can go to the doctor for any reason? How many people have to die so you can get government supplied benefits using my money?

If you are willing to accept the death of American soldiers, then why don't you join the military? Why don't you die?

If you are willing to accept the suicides of far more US soldiers because they cannot get the help they need DESPITE ABOMINABLE CARE, when can we expect you to off yourself?

If you are willing to accept the death of children in other countries at the hands of the POTUS, will you place your own child on the altar of death?

I hear you. I've lost my ever-lovin' mind. If you truly believe this, then explain to the parents of a dead US soldier why that soldier's death was necessary to achieve the National Health Care Act. Tell the orphaned 5-year-old with a missing arm that his parents had to die because you need health insurance.

This ain't a buffet. You don't get to pick and choose. It's everything all at once.

I look forward to your evasions and rationalizations.

Thursday, November 17, 2016

Some questions you might not answer

These questions are posted because I do not know the answer.. Serious answers are appreciated, but not really expected.

Not expected because these questions seek the truth. Answering these questions honestly means you may come to a truth you do not like. If the truth hurts, yer living wrong.

Does everyone has they right to be heard? Please explain your answer.

Does everyone have the right to an opinion? Please explain your answer.

Do you believe in representative government? To explain: In a republic form of government, which the US is supposed to have, should that government reflect everyone? Should everyone have a say in government? Again, please explain your answer.

Sunday, November 13, 2016

Welcome to the Hurt Locker

(tried to fix the format issues. Can't. Sorry).

He's president. Yeah.

As one young lady, years away from voting, observed, "If yer old enough to vote, yer old enough to deal with disappointment."

Originally I was not gonna post this for public consumption. It was for me; being a writer I had to get it out.

But the ire, disgust, revulsion and boggling over the duplicity, hypocrisy, hate and flat out lies being slung by the Left and the Alt-Left is too much. I am a wordmonger, a smith whose forge is the mind and product is language. I am also driven in ways you cannot understand unless you too are a writer. So.

First and foremost - I don't see enough difference in Trump and Clinton to really matter.
YMMV. Right now, I'm not interested in hearing what you believe are the differences. Maybe later. Moving on.


Lemme interject here - I did not support Trump nor Clinton. The more Trump was vilified, the more I thought about supporting him. It's who I am. The more Obama was slammed, the more I thought about supporting him. I especially wanted to shove the "birthers" into a meat grinder.

But I did not.

I also say, I do not support the ostracizing of members of my community and your community over the criteria listed immediately below. I will not tolerate it. I will stand for those who are attacked because of their gender whether chosen (which I do not understand, but I don't have to understand) or birth, melanin content, religion (provided their choice of religion lets me choose my religion), sexual choice (provided that choice is other consenting adults) and country of birth. May be, probably are a few more. If you support assailing people for any of these reasons, do not do so in my presence. If you escalate, I will too.

I will stand up for you, even though you hate me. I do not hate you. I pity you, and yet, I'm still going to have your back, your front, top, bottom and sides. Except, of course, where your oh-so-delicate feelings are concerned. I'm going to run over those like an 8-wheel-drive tractor pulling a 16-row harrow.

In other words, pain is coming. I plan to be the delivery vehicle sometimes. I plan to try to stop the pain sometimes. I plan to share your pain sometimes. I do not ask you to share my pain.

Let's make this so clear it can be seen from the other side of the galaxy.

You never would and never will stand up for me. You said you would. Your actions say otherwise. I stand for you. My actions prove it.

There is the difference between us.

More examples and explanations forthcoming, if you can stand to keep reading.


Trump won. The idea has me giddy because of people like (individual person not named) who are in literal tears about his victory. Because of other people who are in tears over this. Because people are so mad they have lost all reason. Because so many people who preached tolerance, love and acceptance when it appeared Clinton would win but when Trump emerged the victor about 30 minutes later, switched to hate, rejection and intolerance faster than a tachyon. No names. None of you (even those who think like I do) need to know these names.

Yes. The pain some people feel makes me ebullient.

Yeah. I'm a right bastard. I'm still laughing. Harder now. Because if you are now mad at me, you don't get it. Which is even funnier. Keep it up. You may give me a laughter-induced coronary or an aneurysm.

I also have aching ribs because of the lying celebrities who said they'd leave the country but won't because the US is the Gravy Train for the entire world and they know it.

Money before principles. The very same thing these people shredded Trump about.

I laugh harder.

I laugh because of the hypocrisy. During the campaign and just before results were announced, people were saying the nation must come together, heal and find common ground. We must accept the election results. This is the way things will be. People were saying they'd never abandon friends because of their choice for president.

Then, Trump was announced the winner.

Hypocrisy exploded. Along with my laughter. Profanity. Insults. Invective. Screams of racism and white heterosexual male privilege. Within seconds, love turned to hate. Within seconds gentle pleas to come together and accept the political process turned into rabid denunciations of a corrupt system that seeks to entrench fascism.

This reminds me of whitewashed tombs. Looks good on the outside, but under a thin veneer is rot, corruption and decay.

So, to those who screamed, ranted, cried, wailed and gnashed teeth I say heal, find common ground, accept the election results. This is the way things will be. I will never abandon my friends because of their political beliefs.

You set the rules. I'm playing by them.


I'm giggling as I write this. Yeah. I'm giddy about this, because of these people who are so freeking distraught over this presidential election.

These are the people who would take immense self-righteous delight in having their chosen elected officials impose their agenda on the unwilling had Clinton won. Now, an agenda they despise threatens to be imposed on them. (Other plans to impose someone else's will on me are moving forward. I am not happy about this.)

You are so smug, so self-righteous, so absolutely convinced that your way leads to a utopia and everyone else is a blithering idiot who needs to be locked up, or at least sat on until they shut up. The other side thinks the same of you. Me? I just want each person to be accountable for his actions and don't harm anyone(If you do harm someone, then you give up your right to not be harmed; possibly you will be harmed to death.)

Daffodils much?

I am also reminded of the people who said "We survived Bush. You will survive Obama." And the distant roaring you hear is my laughter. The roaring laughter of a cis gender straight white male. The roaring laughter because the same words you used on me and so many others are now being used on you and somehow it's suddenly offensive and mean.

You ain't seen mean yet. I ain't even begun to offend you.

Yes, I am a right bastard because I am laughing at your pain. Keep it up. Roger Waters and I may be "Amused to Death" before this is over.

What you sought to do to me, is being done to you. Before the election, when Hillary was the Chosen One, you told me to calm down, accept and move along. I have a message for you.

When Hillary was leading, you said we must put division behind us and come together to support the president.

Where is your support now? Why the hate, which you urged Trumpers to avoid? Why the angry screams, the denial, the protests, the hate?

I'll tell you why - because at the core you are no different than Donald Trump. When you do not get your way, as in this, you become a 5-year-old throwing a tantrum. That is all it is. Immaturity on your part, the very same thing so many of you decry in the president.

You lash out just as he does.

Here's a question you won't answer - Whither tolerance? You who demand acceptance now refuse to grant it? Keep reading, sunshine, I even ain't close to being done.


Lemme be clear, I'd be laughing if Clinton won. I'd be saying much the same thing about people who supported Trump. This applies to the rest of this post. Change Trump to Clinton and back. It reads exactly the same to me, except for some instances which I make clear below. (Well, clear to me anyway).

You, who are in tears and feel crushed by the election, right now, you are the wind beneath my wings. I soar on your cries of despair. You give me hope. The sadist in me rejoices. Thank you for bringing some hilarity to my life. I soar and wave to you, Icarus, as you plunge downward.

Y'all are all a hoot. You amuse me to no end.

I laugh too, because you have derided me, insulted me, harangued me for being a "cis gender white male" and you know less about me than you do you all of your elected officials, including those at the local level. Now, your president is about to be the same and a man who has a proven history of putting down and looking down on pretty much everyone. You accuse me of looking down and putting down everyone. Now, your president, the face the world will see and that you must deal with, embodies this. Thanks for the laughter. I need it.

If I believed in karma, and I do not, I'd say you are getting several lifetimes worth. 

Meanwhile, I worry about breaking a rib.


I am also massively amused by the riots (and greatly saddened). Look at who is rioting. Look at who supported Trump. Remember the riots when Obama was elected? Here, I remind you with this picture of the riots.

A march is not a riot.

Setting fire to trash in the streets is riot activity. This picture is from Oakland, CA, after Trump's election.

So, how ya feelin' now? Being on the receiving end changed your perspective yet?


So many of you are running around screaming that Trump is going to ban abortion, eliminate gay marriage and more.

Lemme slap you repeatedly with your own words - He. Can't. He, as in Obama. Can't, as in ban guns, seize guns and so forth. You patiently said "the president can't do that" every time the Right exploded with news that guns would be confiscated (never mind actually that did happen) or other certain unalienable rights we hold to be self-evident would be trashed. You patiently said "the president can't do that" every time others got into a panic over the latest rumor.

He. Can't.

Yes. Trump did make campaign promises to do a lot of things. Pay attention. Politicians make tons of promises. I slap you again with reality. HEY! This is getting downright fun. Lemme find some more dead mackerels to beat you with. While I laugh ever more outrageously at you, of course.

He. Can't.

I laugh at you. At. You. You, who sought to lecture the paranoids of the Right and Alt Right about the Constitution, checks and balances and how things must be approved by Congress. Except, of course, executive orders which were necessary, vital and the right thing to do because Congress was constantly exercising that "checks and balances" thing and stopping the president.

Apparently, he can.

He. Can. Now someone from whom you recoil in horror has these same powers you said were necessary. Now, you are the paranoid one. Alt Left much? Hey, you called the other side paranoid and delusional. The burger is now flipped. Same slab of meat, you just see the other side. Everything else 100 percent identical. Nothing has changed except the outward appearance. Close your eyes and the appearance vanishes. It's the same.

Lemme remind you, He. Can't. No, he can't. No, buttercup, he can't do that.

How does it feel now? How does it feel to have your own words used against you? I really hope this hurts. Call me whatever you wish, but yeah, I want you to continue to scream in pain.

Hey vanishing lily, I didn't create the rules. You did. The rules apply to everybody, equally. That means I get to do the same things you did. You don't get to rewrite the rules when you are losing. This ain't Calvinball.

And yet, you call it a privilege.

I call it playing by your rules and, apparently, winning.

Point of order Mr. Chairman! If I said the same things about your chosen candidate, you'd dismiss me out of hand. You'd say I was trying to use my privilege.

You'll just have to imagine my laughter at the high-pitched buzz of your whine. When someone can't refute the argument on logic, the person resorts to insults. (Insults are, of course, peppered through this essay with logic. I understand you will not be swayed by facts, but my barbs will pierce your hide and give me that much satisfaction.)

Fire away. Your insults amuse me. I've been hammered by your ad hominem for so long, it's now forged into me. If I am a monster, you created it. You sowed this crop of me. Now, your harvest has come calling.

So, whine away. All you do is reinforce the opinion of those who see you as a bully who finally got his comeuppance and now is running away.

Whoops. My apologies. Made a mistake. The above is not an opinion. It's a simple fact.

Bullies set rules. They play by those rules, but refuse to allow others to play by the same rules. When the bullied stand up for themselves and stand down the bully, it's not fair. At least according to the bully.

Your rules. I'm playing by them, You don't like it. That brings me an incredibly vast amount of joy.

I've been bullied for decades. The new administration is going to continue the bullying. But now, you get to enjoy it with me. Enjoy. It. S'right. Lay back and enjoy the rape. It's what you've said I needed to do.


Now that you're experiencing the same fear I and so many others have tried to cope with for years and years, let me remind you there is a solution. The solution is in the Declaration of Independence, the Constitution and the Bill of Rights, all of which the Supreme Court has used and referenced in making rulings. "There are four boxes to be used in defense of liberty, soap, ballot, jury, and ammo. Please use in that order. " As the author points out, once you open the 4th box, ain't no going back.

I also remind you, that 4th box is not the exclusive province of the right, Libertarians, libertarians, anarchists, minarchists and others who want less government. I know some liberals with guns. I don't know many. The majority of those own 1 or 2 guns and a couple of boxes of ammo. Ahem. The folks I know on the right are members of the world's largest armed force. It ain't even close.

I hope you read that most excellent article linked just above, the four boxes, because I have to add this: I and my brethren specialize in hiding in plain sight and taking out living entities with senses of smell, sight, touch and hearing that are as far above your meager senses as the sun is above you at high noon. We do this from distances of a few feet to hundreds of yards.

If it comes down to opening the 4th box, we are the 4th box. You have as much chance as the poor Asian folks staring down tanks in Tiananmen Square some years ago. We have an outside shot at making it. If you fear our government, then you need us more than ever before.

Realize something. If this comes to a pitched battle, Trump supporters win. They have the guns. They have the ammo. Remember that. Signs do not stop bullets. Slogans do not stop bullets. Bodies can stop bullets. More in a moment.

In case you wondered, guns did figure into the election. I heard what Clinton (not Trump) said about guns. I do not believe her. She was coming for the guns. She wants bans. She wants ammo bans. She wants magazine bans. I am not convinced Trump and the Reboobicans won't try to attack gun rights, but the chance is less.

Don't start none, won't be none. I ain't gonna start it, but I will do my best to finish it if you feel inclined to start.

I laugh at your pain (yes, if Clinton was elected, I'd be saying the same thing), because you wanted to inflict pain on me and others, honestly believing it was for the greater good. You may believe it is not pain that you intended.

The irony, the delicious irony. Oh, how I laugh at you. You, who assailed me and vilified me now must rely on me for protection because you fear the very government in which you once had implicit trust.


A Baptist preacher bud once told me the 3 greatest and most important words in English are - Let. Me. Help.

Put legs, arms, hands and feet to your words. People don't care how much you know until they know how much you care. Except, you don't really want to. No, you don't. You want the nebulous government to do it. You may volunteer every so often, pitch in a hour or two here and there, contribute financially to various causes. You do it because it makes you feel good. You do it because it makes you feel morally superior. You can lord it over other people and say "See, I did make a difference."

Showing up on Thanksgiving and Christmas at the soup kitchen ain't real help. It's feel good to assuage a guilty conscience. Be there on April 23. Give money to the food bank on Sept. 12.

It's real help when you're the only person there, standing ankle deep in water because a pipe busted and you're doing your best to repair it. It's real help when you visit people in the nursing home, in prison, at the homeless shelter every freekin' week, not just on holidays. It's real help when you are there regularly, on a schedule and available at other times.

Real help is showing up with shovel, not showing up with a sign.

I'll be there for you. Yes, I will. That ain't no campaign promise. You've never been there for me.


When Abominable Care was passed, many people lost their insurance. Many people also lost the ability to "keep" their doctor. The POTUS lied on that one. In Georgia, the only Abominable Care option is Blue Cross & Blue Shield. Other insurance companies left Abominable Care. Many people had to pay the "tax" because they did not have insurance and cannot afford it.

A very close friend said, "Well, some people are going to get hurt. I'm sorry you're one of those."

When Trump won the election, this friend was suddenly on the receiving end of hurt. Not emotional or mental hurt, but tangible economic hurt that can actually be measured and quantified. "Well, some people are going to get hurt. I'm sorry you're one of those."

And I am genuinely sorry. And I am genuinely giddy. Being a sadist with a heart is difficult.

(So the rest of you know, I've tried to help. Tried. Some help was accepted. Some help was rejected. I help people as much as I can and as much as they will let me. Can I help you? Doesn't matter what your political belief structure is, if I can help, I will. You won't help me, but I will help you.)


Seriously. It's time for you to shut the hell up. Unless you are going to stand on the front line, and I do not mean a protest line, shut the hell up. Unless you are willing, yes I'm going there, to shed blood, shut the hell up.

In case you wonder, I still don't trust the government. Those who view Trump as a savior are going to be severely disappointed.

The Donald has made noises about a "Muslim registry." If he does, this cis gendered straight white male Christian pentecostal evangelist is gonna sign up. Put my "John Henry" on that dotted line. Gonna be a lie, of course, but unlike you, I'm not going to let someone I disagree with get pushed around.

Canya see the difference between us yet?

You see privilege. You see racism, misogyny and hate.

I see people. #HumanUp

You protest.

I lock & load.

You complain.

I act.


For those who are panicking over threats you have received, good. It's about f'dangin' time. You read that right. I laugh again. Me, the guy who's been threatened with lawsuits, been physically attacked, publicly called every name in the book, had people whom I thought were "friends" do everything they could to get me fired and ruin my life, I'm laughing at you. I've been getting death threats for 30 years.

Me. The guy who has actually survived an assassination attempt. The guy who tried to kill me did wind up killing someone else. That was after he tried to kill yet another person. He's doing life without parole, BTW

You so funny. You and the pissant threats aimed at you.

Where was YOUR government when bullets were flying at me? I'll tell you. 120 seconds, that's 2 minutes, away after they got the call.

Where were you when my daughter watched a cabinet door explode open as the bullet ripped through it? She hit the floor and told her brother to do the same. Since then her brother, BTW, will not sleep in his bedroom any more. He will only sleep with a light on. He won't sleep in a room by himself. Where was I when this happened? After the first shot I was moving. By the time the boy emptied the mag in his .40 auto, I had a loaded 12 gauge in my hands and was moving toward him. He was running, literally for his life. This boy, whom I've known nearly all his life, knew if I got a bead on him, he was dead.

You are getting threats now? Welcome to my life. Ain't so much fun for you, is it?

You are getting threats? Excellent. Now we have one more thing in common.

The day after the attempt, people called me. They wanted to set up at my house with guns to wait for the future killer to come back to try again. They fully intended to take him out. They were willing to put their own lives on the line to protect me. People who really did not like me called me, expressed sympathy and offered whatever help I needed. One set up a reward fund for info leading to the arrest of the perp. Others contributed.

What would you do? Don't answer that. We already know your words don't match your actions. No need to lie any more so you can slap a salve over your conscience.


Before the election results, so many of you were oh so holier than thou and calling for love and peace. Well, the winning side played by your rules and won. You opened the can of worms. Do not complain about being handed an annelid sammich.

So I ask, how do you like it?

You may wonder why you deserve this repast. Apparently you've not paid attention to the ramblings so far. I'll make this simple.

Because, you tried to put others in pain. You put me in pain. You caused harm.

Furthermore, your pain is a fraction of what you've put me through.

But hey, never mind. The Pain Train is rolling. Lay down on the tracks. It probably won't kill you. As Granny Weatherwax said, "I ATEN'T DED." Then again, maybe it will. The odds are much in favor of you being a Darwinist. Let Darwin reign; let the weak die that the strong may live.

I said above your ad hominem amuses me. Truly, it does. But it also hurts. More than you can imagine. Yassee, the thing about pain is, it changes a person. It creates mental, emotion, psychological, physiological and physical changes. I ain't whining. I'm telling you what SCIENCE! says.

I've changed. Hopefully, some of it has made me a better person. Absolutely, some of it has fed a burgeoning monster. You are the cook and wait staff. You don't get to pick which part you feed. You can control what is served. But when the entree is hate, the monster will gorge regardless of what you and I want.


Regardless, we're in this together. Everything I've written to this point is reaction to stimulus.

Now let's look at reality and what might be. This is you and me. Trump is the incoming president. You may deny this. Reality is under no obligation to conform itself to your expectations. If you live in the US and he is not your president, who is? Who is your commander in chief? Who will sign bills into law? Who will veto bills? Who will make appointments and ask Congress to confirm those appointments? If he's not your president, how can you complain? To whom will you complain?

Laws will be created. Violate them and demand that the law does not apply to you. Lemme know how far that gets you.

If the truth hurts, yer living wrong.

At the same time, I'm scared. A bit less scared in some respects with Trump than Clinton. A bit more with Trump than Clinton.

Above, I promised you more; I deliver that more here. I tell you true; I am not certain I'd survive a Clinton presidency. On some things, I will NOT compromise. I'm done. Gonna have a permanent solution one way or another. Not sure how many others would survive. Infer what you will.

I think this is less likely with Trump, but nuclear war is more likely. In that case, load everything needed for survival and head to the woods.

I believe both are warmongers. I believe neither one worthy of being president.

If you think all this can't and won't apply to Trump supporters down the road, you are still not paying attention.


However, we have a president. We have pain.

We. Have. Pain. 

I too am hurting, a lot. But the difference is, I've been aware of this kind of pain a lot longer than you. Perhaps I've been in this pain longer than you. Perhaps not. Maybe you've been in more pain for longer than I have. Doubtful, but it is possible.

I see reality and you don Joo Janta 200 Super-Chromatic Peril Sensitive Sunglasses and throw a towel over your head so the Ravenous Bugblatter Beast of Traal won't attack. No question there. That's solid. See above about how He. Can't. but then he suddenly could. I've got empirical evidence. You have beliefs.

No, I'm not built for this pain. No, I don't enjoy it. No, I don't want it. But I have it. You have it. I'm just honest enough to admit taking delight in your pain. I'm here to say, yep, the pain you're feeling is real and it's about time you owned up.

I'm here to welcome you to the club. Misery loves company and all that.

So, welcome to the Hurt Locker.

I tell you too that restraining my desire to twist the salt knife even more is a major struggle. You do not know. I have walked it back because of my friends, my 2 a.m. bring-a-shovel friends, who are flattened by the election results. Their pain hurts me. But not enough to completely stop that agiel.

Maybe when you get tired of hurting and get tired of hurting other people, you'll stop. Yeah. Me, the optimist. Hoping you'll see the light. That light at the end of the tunnel is me with a Q-Beam looking for you so I can show you the way out of Plato's Cave. (sigh).

But, if there was any way I could make your pain greater, I'd do it. Maybe if your pain levels reached the same point as mine...

I'm ready to drop the agiel. Will you let me?


And who is the real bastard now? I laugh at you because your plans to impose your will on me are thwarted. (Other plans to impose someone else's will on me are moving forward. I am really not happy about this.)

I really want you to feel more pain, more intensely and more frequently, knowing it's being inflicted by someone who believes they are doing it for the greater good (Trump supporters or Clinton supporters). And, me, who is doing it just to watch you in pain because I'm tired of people like you putting me in pain.

For all my life, you've tried to fit me in a box of your making. For all my life, you'd laid down a code I must follow on penalty of losing what remaining freedoms I have. For all my life, you've tried to make me live according to your Weltanschauung. For all life my, you've put me in pain. Now, you're getting a very tiny taste of what my life has been like. You are getting a brief look at what you've done to me.

Now, you want me to sympathize? No. I've lived it. I don't have to imagine, which is all sympathizing does. I welcome you to my world.

Now, you are whining about what may happen. May. Got a lifetime so I can tell you about what has actually happened? How many years can you spare so that I can tell you what you've done to me.

Is there any way I can turn the pain up for you?


Walk with me. Do not walk before me. Do not walk after me. Do not take my shoes to ramble that country mile. Walk with me.

On Monday, Nov. 14, I was up before 6 a.m. to drive a school bus. I put in a full day at work, ate lunch at my desk so I could keep working. Drove the bus in the afternoon. Took a brief nap in the deer stand. Left the woods at dark. Got home and took a phone call, a (dead) wild hog was on the way to my house. I left the house to attend the Board of Education meeting. Got home 8:10 p.m. Butchered the hog which went to the food bank here. In my community I am the Hunters for the Hungry. Had to go to a friend's house to take a shower because mine is being repaired. 10 p.m. home.

Eh. Pretty average. Some things a bit worse than other days, some a bit better.

That's one day.  I do not tell you this to brag on myself. I tell you this, keyboard warrior, to say that while you rant and rave about injustice and get sanctimonious about marching in protests, I'm out there on the street too. I'm out there feeding people, clothing people, counseling people, lifting them up, carrying them when they cannot walk. I'm there putting hands and feet to the words you so casually sling around. For this, I am assailed, attacked, vilified, excoriated. (Also gonna be Supernova flamed over this blog, especially by people who refuse to understand what I write. Amen.)

Walk with me. You won't do it long, I guarantee. I guarantee you can't take that pain either. Won't take it.

Yanno the best way to get a complainer to shut the hell up? Ask them to fix the problem.

Will you help me fix the problem? Of course you won't. You've proven that too many times over. You are not willing to take the pain.


Sometimes I wonder if this is hate, this reaction I'm having. Then, I realize, no, not hate, despite what you may be thinking. If this reaction is hate, then I'd not be trying (and probably failing) to explain to you and to understand it myself.

But no, this is hate. The hate is one reason this blog won't become completely public, at least by me. I'm not going to let that much hate be part of who I am.

Sometimes I wonder if this is just lashing out because I feel I'm backed into a corner and I'm taking someone with me when I go. Could be.

Sometimes I wonder if this is just the sadist in me; I'm just glad to see you in pain. A little bit, yeah.

Sometimes I wonder if this is anger. Yes. Absolutely. Inchoate rage? Years ago, yes. Now, it is a deep, settled anger, the kind that is calm, cool and plotting. A resigned anger that says, enough. Not moving any more. Come at me bro and let's get this over with once and for all.

Sometimes I wonder if this desire to see you in such pain is revenge. Vengeance for imposing your will, against my will, on me for so many years.

Dammit. Yes, it is. Dammit. That is NOT who I want to be. It is who I am.  I only have two cheeks and you hit both. I ain't got anything else to turn, except to turn on you. Dammit dammit dammit. "I'm looking at the man in the mirror. I'm asking him to change his ways." If I change, will you let me? Will you keep shoving me back into the box?

Regardless. I've edited this piece over and over. I have edited this more than anything else I have ever written. Still not right all the way.

One consistent item is: given the chance, I'd still do this to you until you were either dead, clinically insane or you shucked the attitude you have and embrace personal accountability and responsibility and quit trying to make me be responsible for someone else against my will. Feel the anger?

Arg. Confusing. Try this - Quit trying to make me live to your standards. I ain't harming anyone and that's really all that should matter. Making me live to your standards is harming me. Quit pissing me off.


Until then, I intend to laugh at you through my own pain. I expect the same from you. Laugh. It doesn't get rid of the pain, but it hides the pain. Call me a right bastard. Laugh s'more then.

Where do you think I learned it from?

You are a great teacher.