As usual, we here at The Metzger Ranch For Wayward Weirdos enjoyed yet another beautiful, quiet, Christmas holiday. We hope that you did as well. According to the media (our very own purveyors of doom), most of you didn't.
The reason? UPS, FedEx and the United States Post Office FAILED! Their failure? Not delivering that item you ordered on December 22 by Christmas Day!!!!!!
If you ask me, the failure is the shopper's, not the carriers'. And why is this, you may be asking?
Simple. For starters, you didn't plan very well. Take some responsibility. You knew Christmas was coming. It's the same time every year. December 25th. It's one of the few holidays that we Americans don't arbitrarily change just to make sure that it gives us a 3 day weekend. Oh sure, you wanted to take advantage of the ever-dropping prices, the sales, etc. That's just being greedy, on your part. Not enough money? Learn to work within a budget. I'm the most broke-ass person I know and I still managed to amaze my better half with a pile O presents. I can fully understand wanting the most bang for your buck, but if you can't afford something; you can't afford it. I've always wanted a Martin D-45, but I can pretty much guarantee that it will always remain out of my price range.
In your last minute scavenging for great prices, you also listened to the 4th biggest lie ever told (fans of David Allen Coe are familiar with the first three)..."We'll have it delivered to your house no later than Christmas Day!" If you believed this...shame on you. The retailers, whether they be online or brick & mortar, know that they can rope you in with this lie. They're not the ones actually delivering it, so they can pass the buck O guilt on to the carrier. And once again, many people fell for it. Christmas is RUINED because little Dylan or Brhianna or Cooper or Bethany didn't get that THING in time for Xmas. Santa has been outed as a fraud. Blah blah blah...
I have friends and family that work for the Post Office, UPS, FedEx, and various mail/parcel handling services. It's not easy work. They know that December and the first half of January, they're going to get slammed. And guess what, they do everything in their power to get that THING to you within as reasonable a time frame as possible. Just because someone paid extra does not guarantee that miracles will happen.
I'll actually leave out the part I was going to write about what Christmas is really about. No one wants to hear/read that shit. People want PRESENTS! STUFF! THINGS! Neatly wrapped in colorful paper and with a bow on it! (I didn't use a single bow this year)
It might be time to look backward for ideas for next year. These have always worked before for most folks, so why wouldn't they work now?
* Start setting aside a small amount of money every week or pay check for Christmas. It doesn't have to be a lot. Maybe $5 per person on your shopping list. This will give you in the neighborhood of $200 per person for next Xmas (minus whatever you take out during the year, fully planning to replace it but never doing so). That can be a fair amount of money! Anything extra, sure...use the plastic.
* Start Christmas shopping earlier. I swear, my stepmother is one to start Xmas shopping on Dec. 26. All year long, if she sees something that someone on her list would like, she usually buys it and sets it aside. I do something similar...I buy it...and just give it to the person. Usually for no reason other than "I saw this and thought you would enjoy it." Call me crazy.
* Ignore the media. Their job is to make you feel worthless if you don't spend more this year than you did last year. Their job is to wind you up for The Black Friday Battlefield. You WILL slam your cart into someone else's! You will tackle someone over a THING. The corporations that make the THINGS pay the media to this...just so you can provide a Stuff-Filled Holiday Memory to someone else. Your memory, however, will most likely be that monthly reminder in the form of bill after bill coming through the letterbox.
Just a thought...while gearing up for Christmas 2014, take 5 minutes and look up the origins of "Xmas". There is no War On Christmas. The true meaning of Christmas has nothing to do with any of the crap I wrote. I won't go into detail (I'm sure I'd offend someone). But just stop for a minute. Breathe. And think back to YOUR favorite, childhood, Christmas memory and ask...are you making these memories for anyone today?
Don't fall for the OOPS.
Thursday, December 26, 2013
Wednesday, December 18, 2013
A few random thoughts...
A few random thoughts...
* If you think you need a gun, great...get one. Learn as much as you can about gun safety. Make sure that you are emotionally capable and intelligent enough to own a gun. Only YOU can make that decision. Never leave a loaded gun sitting around. Never point a gun at anyone unless you intend to shoot them and never shoot anyone unless you intend to kill them. If you ever point a gun at me, it will take a team of very skilled surgeons to remove it from your ass.
* I don't care what anyone's personal thoughts are on abortion. If you're against them, don't have one. If you want to use the religious angle, then you probably shouldn't be having premarital sex anyway. A woman can have any number of reasons for wanting an abortion but none of them matter. Abortions are legal. I don't see that changing any time soon.
* If you are arguing politics or religion or morals, etc. with anyone, you are part of the problem. You will never change anyone's mind by arguing. Try having an adult discussion/exchange of ideas. Chances are, you'll find more similarities than differences. Build on those.
* If you ever hear me say the words "Bet me!", just walk away and admit defeat. By saying those words, I am prepared to demonstrate that I know the correct facts and am more than happy to take your money. I have only lost one bet in my life. It will never happen again.
* Your opinion is just that. Others may share it, or not. It probably isn't a big deal. Why make it one?
* I've died. Literally. I was dead for 7 minutes. You can guess for the rest of your life what it's like, read every religious book ever written, and watch a thousand documentaries on the subject. You're not going to know the truth until you die yourself.
Want to know what happens? You end. I have no other way to explain it. No bright light. No angels. No long lost relatives (I was looking forward to those!) No burning pit of Hell. Guess what...I'm still a Christian.
* You cannot hold a ukulele and not smile.
* You probably don't want to know what is really in the food you eat.
* Vegans/vegetarians are not correct. Carnivores are not correct. If you like meat, eat it. If you don't, then don't. Don't try to validate your opinion (see above) by trying to make a political statement. You just sound like an ass when you do. If you didn't personally see the animal die, then you have no idea how it died. I worked in a slaughter house. I still eat meat.
* Why is it anyone's business who anyone sleeps with? Before pointing a finger, ask yourself if you're willing to publish a list of all of your past sex partners and sex acts. I'm sure your parents would be proud of every one of them...right?
* Corporations are businesses. They exist to make money. Corporations are not people, my friend...therefore, they have no feelings nor are they concerned with morals or ethics. Anyone that tells you otherwise is probably being paid to do so or is afraid they will lose their job (and money). Face facts, we are all forced to worship money. I think that's kinda fucked up.
* Always take responsibility for every thing you do and every thing that happens in your life. If you are surrounded by assholes, it's because you invited them.
* Some days it's going to rain. That is a good thing. If it messes up your plans, you probably just didn't plan very well.
* You can be happy. It's a choice. If you're not happy, guess what....that too is a choice. No one can MAKE you happy except yourself.
* If you think you need a gun, great...get one. Learn as much as you can about gun safety. Make sure that you are emotionally capable and intelligent enough to own a gun. Only YOU can make that decision. Never leave a loaded gun sitting around. Never point a gun at anyone unless you intend to shoot them and never shoot anyone unless you intend to kill them. If you ever point a gun at me, it will take a team of very skilled surgeons to remove it from your ass.
* I don't care what anyone's personal thoughts are on abortion. If you're against them, don't have one. If you want to use the religious angle, then you probably shouldn't be having premarital sex anyway. A woman can have any number of reasons for wanting an abortion but none of them matter. Abortions are legal. I don't see that changing any time soon.
* If you are arguing politics or religion or morals, etc. with anyone, you are part of the problem. You will never change anyone's mind by arguing. Try having an adult discussion/exchange of ideas. Chances are, you'll find more similarities than differences. Build on those.
* If you ever hear me say the words "Bet me!", just walk away and admit defeat. By saying those words, I am prepared to demonstrate that I know the correct facts and am more than happy to take your money. I have only lost one bet in my life. It will never happen again.
* Your opinion is just that. Others may share it, or not. It probably isn't a big deal. Why make it one?
* I've died. Literally. I was dead for 7 minutes. You can guess for the rest of your life what it's like, read every religious book ever written, and watch a thousand documentaries on the subject. You're not going to know the truth until you die yourself.
Want to know what happens? You end. I have no other way to explain it. No bright light. No angels. No long lost relatives (I was looking forward to those!) No burning pit of Hell. Guess what...I'm still a Christian.
* You cannot hold a ukulele and not smile.
* You probably don't want to know what is really in the food you eat.
* Vegans/vegetarians are not correct. Carnivores are not correct. If you like meat, eat it. If you don't, then don't. Don't try to validate your opinion (see above) by trying to make a political statement. You just sound like an ass when you do. If you didn't personally see the animal die, then you have no idea how it died. I worked in a slaughter house. I still eat meat.
* Why is it anyone's business who anyone sleeps with? Before pointing a finger, ask yourself if you're willing to publish a list of all of your past sex partners and sex acts. I'm sure your parents would be proud of every one of them...right?
* Corporations are businesses. They exist to make money. Corporations are not people, my friend...therefore, they have no feelings nor are they concerned with morals or ethics. Anyone that tells you otherwise is probably being paid to do so or is afraid they will lose their job (and money). Face facts, we are all forced to worship money. I think that's kinda fucked up.
* Always take responsibility for every thing you do and every thing that happens in your life. If you are surrounded by assholes, it's because you invited them.
* Some days it's going to rain. That is a good thing. If it messes up your plans, you probably just didn't plan very well.
* You can be happy. It's a choice. If you're not happy, guess what....that too is a choice. No one can MAKE you happy except yourself.
Monday, December 16, 2013
The Best Laid Plans of Sterling Mann
I woke up this morning playing "air bass". I had obviously been writing a song in my sleep. The song that was taking shape was intended to be a spoken word piece, something along the lines of "The Gift" by The Velvet Underground. I don't know...this may be too long for such a piece...but only time will tell. Until then, here is the story to go along with the song:
Theobold Sterling Mann sat enjoying his usual breakfast of tea, toast and fresh-squeezed OJ. As he did on most days, he looked impeccable in his neatly pressed Arrow shirt and Van Heusen tie, complete with his father's antique rainbow trout tie clip. His wife, Betty, was noisily crunching through her bowl of Grape Nuts but unlike most days, this multi-sensory assault was not dimming his mood. Today was the day.
17 years of marriage had robbed Betty of her looks, figure, and whatever had attracted him to her in the first place. She was, essentially, a cow. At 280 + pounds, the sight of her in her brown and white terri cloth robe reminded him of an overweight, aged Hereford. Her personality was, in his mind, on par with this comparison.
Her bloodshot brown eyes stared blankly as she munched down her feed. She had been up late watching "reality TV" again. The only reality in Sterling Mann's mind this morning was that today was the day! His plan was coming to fruition.
It was Betty's habit to take a bath most afternoons, long after Sterling had left for work and before Springer came on. Today's would be her last. Sterling had left his small radio plugged in and resting on the bathroom sink. He had also left the window next to the sink open...just enough for him to poke the radio with a twig, and send it careening into the tub...essentially fricasseeing his beloved Betty.
The sink's proximity to the bathtub was perfect. Of course, there would be an investigation but with Sterling away at work, he had the perfect alibi. His plan was to let Betty believe he had gone for the day, park his car at his office - in plain view for the world to see - then sneak back home and do the deed.
Sterling had it all planned. Betty would most likely have the radio on, listening to one of her annoying talk radio programs - the ones where the disc jockey baits his/her listeners with hot topic questions like "What are YOUR thoughts on homosexual incest?" , all the while scrubbing her massive amounts of flab with a loofah. All he had to do was climb up the back of the garage, well out of sight of the neighbors' prying eyes, keep low, and use a twig to tip the radio into the tub. A moment of electrically-induced rigidity, a flicker of the lights and it would all be over. If the breaker, for whatever reason, didn't blow and the house burned to the ground, even better. The house was insured...and so was Betty. Sterling could easily portray the emotionally scarred widower who had lost not only his beloved bride but his house as well. Betty's taste in garish collectibles were, somehow, worth a small fortune. He could potentially net a few million in insurance settlements.
His plan was simple. The back yard of their modest two story home was small but cozy and private...shielded from the world with a thick wall of evergreens and thick hedges. A few maples also lined the property and at this time of year, stray twigs were not an uncommon sight. As tall as the trees were, there were often twigs scattered about the roof. Sterling's well-known aversion to ladders kept them there. There was no way Betty would climb up and clear them and Sterling was far too frugal to pay someone else to do it.
The garage was at the back of the house and conveniently located near the bathroom window, which was very old, patterned frosted glass. Betty would often comment that she was glad that no one could see into their bathroom...and gaze upon her in all of her full-figured glory. Sterling often thought that it was bad enough that he had to lay eyes on it.
All Sterling had to do was climb up the maple nearest the garage, crawl on his belly - keeping out of view - to within a foot or so of the bathroom window, grab a twig and gently nudge his old Sony radio off of the edge of the sink and into the tub. Once finished, he would sneak back to his office and await the news of his Betty's demise. If the house happened not to burn down in the process, he would simply arrive at home at his usual time, find the electricity not working, call around the house for Betty, find her fried carcass in the tub, and call the authorities...totally bereft and devastated. It was all so simple.
"I've told her a thousand times not to put that damned radio on the sink!", he would cry to the authorities just before breaking down in a fit of crocodile tears. He had it all planned.
Sterling left for work as planned. His secretary had the day off for her niece's christening, so he would be alone in the office. No one would miss him if he was gone for a few hours. His business was such that no one ever stopped by the office and most business was handled online.
Sterling walked the few miles back to his house, keeping mostly to side streets and being cautious to not draw attention to himself. The last thing he needed was an acquaintance ruining his plan. "Hi Sterling! Fancy seeing you here! Why aren't you at the office today?"...those would be all the words he needed to hear to ruin his plan...and he wasn't about to let that happen. He had no idea when or if he would ever get this chance again. Everything had fallen in place. His secretary needing the day off, the recent rains had cleared and the weather was just nice enough for Betty to leave the bathroom window cracked without fear of neighbors ogling her nudity. Today was indeed the day!
Once back in his own neighborhood, Sterling kept a vigilant eye out for neighbors, the postman, and any assorted passersby. He could not be seen. He was oh so cautious. He slipped along the side of the house and into the back yard just after noon. It was sunny but not too warm. He could see that the bathroom window was still open...just enough to poke a stick through. All he had to do was climb on top of the garage, grab a twig and wait. His aversion to ladders and heights...never a true issue. He was just lazy when it came to chores involving any type of real labor. Sure, he would mow the lawn and trim the hedges...but climb a ladder and clear debris from the roof? Not a chance. He figured the wind would usually blow it off, and it usually did. He stopped and grabbed a twig from the slightly unkempt yard, just to be safe.
Sterling climbed the maple and made his way, as quietly as possible, on to the garage and crept up to a close but safe distance from the window. All he had to do now was wait. He could hear Betty's television blaring...she was watching a game show from the sounds of it. She was a creature of habit, just as he was. As soon as he could no longer hear the television, he knew it would soon be time.
Betty had been watching The Price Is Right. Even though she didn't like the new host, she still enjoyed watching contestants over guess the prices of things and spin the big wheel. She didn't know why she liked it...she just did. She knew that her beloved Sterling hated game shows but she was happy to be married to such a practical man. He was all about work and business. He provided her with a nice home and he never seemed too upset when she had bought a new knick knack or collectible TV tray. Sure, he would grumble from time to time...but he worked long and hard...so he needed to vent now and then. They had never been blessed with children but she was happy all the same. She was thinking that maybe she would sell some of her collectibles on EBay and surprise Sterling with a weekend getaway. They hadn't gone anywhere in years. It would be nice to get away and relax together, she thought to herself.
Betty climbed the stairs to the bathroom, feeling every day of her 47 years. She was out of breath by the time she reached the bathroom. She thought to herself, "I really need to drop a few pounds!" All morning, she felt queasy. Her diet, for the most part, was atrocious. She would snack all day long...chips, candy, popcorn, soda. No wonder she was long past fitting into her mother's wedding dress. She thought for a moment about her wedding day...how handsome Sterling looked in his tuxedo and she in the antique dress. Such a lovely couple....
Betty turned on the water in the bathtub, adjusted the temperature just so, and still feeling queasy and out of breath, decided to sit on the toilet while waiting for the tub to fill. Sterling had left his radio on the edge of the sink. While she momentarily thought that odd, she dismissed the thought and turned it on and found her favorite talk radio program. The host was fielding calls from listeners who all seemed pretty upset about all of the welfare cheats in this country. From the way it sounded, nearly everyone was mooching off the government. Betty didn't go out much, so she didn't really know...were any of their friends welfare cheats and moochers? She would have to ask Sterling when he got home. She was feeling happy that Sterling made good money and that they didn't have to be on Welfare.
Betty felt a jolt of pain shoot up her left arm. She broke out in a cold sweat and her teeth suddenly ached like nothing she had ever felt before. Then the chest pain started. It was like someone had smacked her in the chest with a sledge hammer. She was having a heart attack...just like her father. That was Betty Mann's last thought as she died. Her large frame slid against the wall next to the toilet. The tub was just about to overflow.
Outside on top of the garage, Sterling Mann laid in waiting. He could hear the muffled sounds of the radio. The only other thing he could hear was the sound of his own heart beating. He remained calm. He inched a bit closer to the window and was able to clearly see his radio sitting there on the edge of the sink next to the bathtub. He decided to wait another minute to make sure Betty was already in the tub. He hadn't seen her pass the frosted window but was sure she had to be in the tub by now. Another minute wouldn't kill him.
As Sterling laid there on top of the garage, twig in hand, preparing for the beginning of his new life, he felt something tickle the short hairs on the side of his neck, just behind his right ear. At first he thought perhaps it was just a bit of debris rustling against him as he lay there on top of the garage. He really could use a trim, he thought to himself.
He kept feeling something tickling those short hairs, and in a moment of reaction, reached up to brush whatever it was away. As his hand reached his neck, that was when the mouse that had been nuzzling his neck bit his hand. Startled, Sterling jerked and began to roll off of the garage. The mouse, with it's teeth still embedded in Sterling's hand, but harder. Theobold Sterling Mann started to flail as he rolled off of the garage, head first, and landed squarely on the concrete of the driveway, snapping his neck. He didn't die instantly. His body jerked and twitched as he realized he was paralyzed. The last thing he saw, before he blacked out for good, was the little mouse. It had a drop of his blood discoloring it's muzzle. It's nose twitched and Sterling Mann died.
Theobold Sterling Mann sat enjoying his usual breakfast of tea, toast and fresh-squeezed OJ. As he did on most days, he looked impeccable in his neatly pressed Arrow shirt and Van Heusen tie, complete with his father's antique rainbow trout tie clip. His wife, Betty, was noisily crunching through her bowl of Grape Nuts but unlike most days, this multi-sensory assault was not dimming his mood. Today was the day.
17 years of marriage had robbed Betty of her looks, figure, and whatever had attracted him to her in the first place. She was, essentially, a cow. At 280 + pounds, the sight of her in her brown and white terri cloth robe reminded him of an overweight, aged Hereford. Her personality was, in his mind, on par with this comparison.
Her bloodshot brown eyes stared blankly as she munched down her feed. She had been up late watching "reality TV" again. The only reality in Sterling Mann's mind this morning was that today was the day! His plan was coming to fruition.
It was Betty's habit to take a bath most afternoons, long after Sterling had left for work and before Springer came on. Today's would be her last. Sterling had left his small radio plugged in and resting on the bathroom sink. He had also left the window next to the sink open...just enough for him to poke the radio with a twig, and send it careening into the tub...essentially fricasseeing his beloved Betty.
The sink's proximity to the bathtub was perfect. Of course, there would be an investigation but with Sterling away at work, he had the perfect alibi. His plan was to let Betty believe he had gone for the day, park his car at his office - in plain view for the world to see - then sneak back home and do the deed.
Sterling had it all planned. Betty would most likely have the radio on, listening to one of her annoying talk radio programs - the ones where the disc jockey baits his/her listeners with hot topic questions like "What are YOUR thoughts on homosexual incest?" , all the while scrubbing her massive amounts of flab with a loofah. All he had to do was climb up the back of the garage, well out of sight of the neighbors' prying eyes, keep low, and use a twig to tip the radio into the tub. A moment of electrically-induced rigidity, a flicker of the lights and it would all be over. If the breaker, for whatever reason, didn't blow and the house burned to the ground, even better. The house was insured...and so was Betty. Sterling could easily portray the emotionally scarred widower who had lost not only his beloved bride but his house as well. Betty's taste in garish collectibles were, somehow, worth a small fortune. He could potentially net a few million in insurance settlements.
His plan was simple. The back yard of their modest two story home was small but cozy and private...shielded from the world with a thick wall of evergreens and thick hedges. A few maples also lined the property and at this time of year, stray twigs were not an uncommon sight. As tall as the trees were, there were often twigs scattered about the roof. Sterling's well-known aversion to ladders kept them there. There was no way Betty would climb up and clear them and Sterling was far too frugal to pay someone else to do it.
The garage was at the back of the house and conveniently located near the bathroom window, which was very old, patterned frosted glass. Betty would often comment that she was glad that no one could see into their bathroom...and gaze upon her in all of her full-figured glory. Sterling often thought that it was bad enough that he had to lay eyes on it.
All Sterling had to do was climb up the maple nearest the garage, crawl on his belly - keeping out of view - to within a foot or so of the bathroom window, grab a twig and gently nudge his old Sony radio off of the edge of the sink and into the tub. Once finished, he would sneak back to his office and await the news of his Betty's demise. If the house happened not to burn down in the process, he would simply arrive at home at his usual time, find the electricity not working, call around the house for Betty, find her fried carcass in the tub, and call the authorities...totally bereft and devastated. It was all so simple.
"I've told her a thousand times not to put that damned radio on the sink!", he would cry to the authorities just before breaking down in a fit of crocodile tears. He had it all planned.
Sterling left for work as planned. His secretary had the day off for her niece's christening, so he would be alone in the office. No one would miss him if he was gone for a few hours. His business was such that no one ever stopped by the office and most business was handled online.
Sterling walked the few miles back to his house, keeping mostly to side streets and being cautious to not draw attention to himself. The last thing he needed was an acquaintance ruining his plan. "Hi Sterling! Fancy seeing you here! Why aren't you at the office today?"...those would be all the words he needed to hear to ruin his plan...and he wasn't about to let that happen. He had no idea when or if he would ever get this chance again. Everything had fallen in place. His secretary needing the day off, the recent rains had cleared and the weather was just nice enough for Betty to leave the bathroom window cracked without fear of neighbors ogling her nudity. Today was indeed the day!
Once back in his own neighborhood, Sterling kept a vigilant eye out for neighbors, the postman, and any assorted passersby. He could not be seen. He was oh so cautious. He slipped along the side of the house and into the back yard just after noon. It was sunny but not too warm. He could see that the bathroom window was still open...just enough to poke a stick through. All he had to do was climb on top of the garage, grab a twig and wait. His aversion to ladders and heights...never a true issue. He was just lazy when it came to chores involving any type of real labor. Sure, he would mow the lawn and trim the hedges...but climb a ladder and clear debris from the roof? Not a chance. He figured the wind would usually blow it off, and it usually did. He stopped and grabbed a twig from the slightly unkempt yard, just to be safe.
Sterling climbed the maple and made his way, as quietly as possible, on to the garage and crept up to a close but safe distance from the window. All he had to do now was wait. He could hear Betty's television blaring...she was watching a game show from the sounds of it. She was a creature of habit, just as he was. As soon as he could no longer hear the television, he knew it would soon be time.
Betty had been watching The Price Is Right. Even though she didn't like the new host, she still enjoyed watching contestants over guess the prices of things and spin the big wheel. She didn't know why she liked it...she just did. She knew that her beloved Sterling hated game shows but she was happy to be married to such a practical man. He was all about work and business. He provided her with a nice home and he never seemed too upset when she had bought a new knick knack or collectible TV tray. Sure, he would grumble from time to time...but he worked long and hard...so he needed to vent now and then. They had never been blessed with children but she was happy all the same. She was thinking that maybe she would sell some of her collectibles on EBay and surprise Sterling with a weekend getaway. They hadn't gone anywhere in years. It would be nice to get away and relax together, she thought to herself.
Betty climbed the stairs to the bathroom, feeling every day of her 47 years. She was out of breath by the time she reached the bathroom. She thought to herself, "I really need to drop a few pounds!" All morning, she felt queasy. Her diet, for the most part, was atrocious. She would snack all day long...chips, candy, popcorn, soda. No wonder she was long past fitting into her mother's wedding dress. She thought for a moment about her wedding day...how handsome Sterling looked in his tuxedo and she in the antique dress. Such a lovely couple....
Betty turned on the water in the bathtub, adjusted the temperature just so, and still feeling queasy and out of breath, decided to sit on the toilet while waiting for the tub to fill. Sterling had left his radio on the edge of the sink. While she momentarily thought that odd, she dismissed the thought and turned it on and found her favorite talk radio program. The host was fielding calls from listeners who all seemed pretty upset about all of the welfare cheats in this country. From the way it sounded, nearly everyone was mooching off the government. Betty didn't go out much, so she didn't really know...were any of their friends welfare cheats and moochers? She would have to ask Sterling when he got home. She was feeling happy that Sterling made good money and that they didn't have to be on Welfare.
Betty felt a jolt of pain shoot up her left arm. She broke out in a cold sweat and her teeth suddenly ached like nothing she had ever felt before. Then the chest pain started. It was like someone had smacked her in the chest with a sledge hammer. She was having a heart attack...just like her father. That was Betty Mann's last thought as she died. Her large frame slid against the wall next to the toilet. The tub was just about to overflow.
Outside on top of the garage, Sterling Mann laid in waiting. He could hear the muffled sounds of the radio. The only other thing he could hear was the sound of his own heart beating. He remained calm. He inched a bit closer to the window and was able to clearly see his radio sitting there on the edge of the sink next to the bathtub. He decided to wait another minute to make sure Betty was already in the tub. He hadn't seen her pass the frosted window but was sure she had to be in the tub by now. Another minute wouldn't kill him.
As Sterling laid there on top of the garage, twig in hand, preparing for the beginning of his new life, he felt something tickle the short hairs on the side of his neck, just behind his right ear. At first he thought perhaps it was just a bit of debris rustling against him as he lay there on top of the garage. He really could use a trim, he thought to himself.
He kept feeling something tickling those short hairs, and in a moment of reaction, reached up to brush whatever it was away. As his hand reached his neck, that was when the mouse that had been nuzzling his neck bit his hand. Startled, Sterling jerked and began to roll off of the garage. The mouse, with it's teeth still embedded in Sterling's hand, but harder. Theobold Sterling Mann started to flail as he rolled off of the garage, head first, and landed squarely on the concrete of the driveway, snapping his neck. He didn't die instantly. His body jerked and twitched as he realized he was paralyzed. The last thing he saw, before he blacked out for good, was the little mouse. It had a drop of his blood discoloring it's muzzle. It's nose twitched and Sterling Mann died.
Sunday, December 15, 2013
Mom & The Xmas Tree
(Yes. I used "Xmas" instead of "Christmas". If you don't understand the history of it, shut up and go look it up.)
I've never enjoyed decorating Xmas trees. I didn't enjoy it as a child and I don't enjoy it as a grown man. Don't get me wrong, I love the way a well-decorated tree looks...I just don't want to do it. It's one of those rituals that seems like a misspent use of time. You put up the tree, drag out the boxes of ornaments, run up the electric bill for a while, then take it back down again. I don't get it...but I'm glad most people do.
Today would have been our mom's birthday. She would have been 78. She had a twin sister, who has also since passed. While I can picture my aunt at 78, I just cannot picture our mother at that age. She died when she was 43, so I even though I watched her twin sister live into her 70s, I just can't see my mother like that.
Our mom was a hoot! She had a great sense of humor and was blessed with many creative talents; painting, sculpture, music, decorating...you name it, she was great at it! She really excelled at Xmas!
We grew up in what most would call a comfortable, white collar neighborhood. We really didn't want for the creature comforts. As I've grown older, I respect my parents much more because of that. They both came from poor families. At a time when moms didn't work, both of my grandmothers did. Our parents instilled in us the fact that one has to work for what they want in life.
OK...mom was pretty good at spoiling us when she wanted to. And she was great at doing that at Xmas.
With our mom's birthday so close to Xmas, I seem to recall that she would usually wait for her birthday to decorate the tree. Always a real one, never an artificial tree, That seemed important to her. We usually went to Di Gregory's to get the tree. Once or twice I remember us going to a tree farm. That seemed like a waste of a day to me. Sure, it was nice to see all of the Xmas trees and future Xmas trees...but it entailed a drive out to the boonies, a place I've never felt comfortable, and dealing with flannel-clad guys who chewed tobacco, spit a lot, and had an odd smell about them. We used to spend a lot of time on our Aunt Grace's farm...so it wasn't the smell of hard work and farming...maybe it was the smell of cheap bourbon. I can't say for sure...but I digress.
The tree would usually sit out on our back patio for what, to me, seemed like months. In actuality, it was probably a few days. Inevitably, we would wake one morning to see the tree, in the tree stand, naked and waiting to be decorated. Us kids would help a bit...but really, we were pretty lazy. Mom didn't seem to mind. As long as we were there. In no time at all, she would have that tree looking like something out of the Sears catalogue!
Seeing the tree lit up in the day time was nice, but I thought it looked best at night, with all of the other lights out. Just the soft glow of the fairy lights warming the house with their sparkling effulgence always looked so, well...for lack of a better word...pretty! But that was nothing compared to Xmas morning.
Mom would go all out and tastefully decorate the whole house. Decorations on the doors and windows, and of course the banister. We didn't have a fireplace, so our stockings were hung on the banister with care....you know the rest.
Xmas morning meant getting up early, after maybe 7 minutes of sleep (Hey! Did you hear something on the roof????). The first sight we saw were those stockings, stuffed to the point of looking ready to burst, hanging on the banister. It was TOY TIME!!!!!!!! We would grab those stockings and race to the family room where our eyes would behold the most magical sight of all: Mom's tree and all of the presents...wrapped in tin foil!
OK, you might think that sounds weird. Sure, we could have easily afforded fancy wrapping paper...but our mother was not only creative, she was pragmatic. The twinkle of the Xmas tree lights would radiate and bounce off of those mountains of presents. As I think back, it didn't matter was those gifts were...my memory is always of how it looked. A glowing Xmas wonderland!
Like I said, our Mom had a pragmatic approach to Xmas morning, as well as her creative and sometimes spoiling nature. With 4 kids, her, dad, our grandmother and 2 great aunties, as well as the dogs, that tin foil was much more easily smooshed into balls and pitched into the Xmas morning garbage bag. Regular wrapping paper would've filled up twice as many bags! See! Our Mom was a genius. Not only was it a beautiful sight on Xmas morning, it was also easy to get rid of!
After all of the presents were opened, and we kids would be playing with our toys, Mom would get to take it easy and have a smoke while dad and our grandmother would usually make Xmas breakfast. Gram usually had made a few loaves of banana nut bread and dad would make bacon and eggs...the only time I ever recall him making eggs! (one of the downsides to having a cardiologist father...eggs were EVIL! I've eaten them maybe 3 times in my life. They have no flavor to me.) Dad would make his fancy eggs...cooking them in the oven in a muffin tin. Looked spiffy and all...but as a kid, I never ate. I hated most food. I liked the banana nut bread and the Xmas cookies...but other than that, all I wanted was peanut butter and mashed potatoes. (Needless to say, my palette has expanded greatly...but I still love peanut butter and mashed potatoes)
Usually while all of this was going on, a neighbor kid, Bruce Greenhouse (who was Jewish) would stop by and want to play. He was a tad hyper...but a good kid. Dad would grumble and Mom would politely explain that we were having our Xmas and send him home. Year after year this scenario played out. Every year Dad would grumble (something he has down to an art form) and every year Mom would be sweet as pie to Bruce...sometimes sending him off with some cookies for his family or one of the multitudinous loaves of nut bread. Mom was truly the Queen of Xmas!
Like I said, I still hate decorating the tree...but I always have one. Always an artificial one. (Mom would've hated that!) The last few years, the young'un and I have used my grandmother's old ceramic table top tree, as we live with a cat. Cats + Xmas trees = inevitable crash/mess. I don't have that to do.
It's Mom's (and Aunt Nancy's) birthday. You know what? I might just pull out the old artificial tree and put it up and decorate it...in honor of their memory. If only I can find a way to keep the cat off of it.....
I've never enjoyed decorating Xmas trees. I didn't enjoy it as a child and I don't enjoy it as a grown man. Don't get me wrong, I love the way a well-decorated tree looks...I just don't want to do it. It's one of those rituals that seems like a misspent use of time. You put up the tree, drag out the boxes of ornaments, run up the electric bill for a while, then take it back down again. I don't get it...but I'm glad most people do.
Today would have been our mom's birthday. She would have been 78. She had a twin sister, who has also since passed. While I can picture my aunt at 78, I just cannot picture our mother at that age. She died when she was 43, so I even though I watched her twin sister live into her 70s, I just can't see my mother like that.
Our mom was a hoot! She had a great sense of humor and was blessed with many creative talents; painting, sculpture, music, decorating...you name it, she was great at it! She really excelled at Xmas!
We grew up in what most would call a comfortable, white collar neighborhood. We really didn't want for the creature comforts. As I've grown older, I respect my parents much more because of that. They both came from poor families. At a time when moms didn't work, both of my grandmothers did. Our parents instilled in us the fact that one has to work for what they want in life.
OK...mom was pretty good at spoiling us when she wanted to. And she was great at doing that at Xmas.
With our mom's birthday so close to Xmas, I seem to recall that she would usually wait for her birthday to decorate the tree. Always a real one, never an artificial tree, That seemed important to her. We usually went to Di Gregory's to get the tree. Once or twice I remember us going to a tree farm. That seemed like a waste of a day to me. Sure, it was nice to see all of the Xmas trees and future Xmas trees...but it entailed a drive out to the boonies, a place I've never felt comfortable, and dealing with flannel-clad guys who chewed tobacco, spit a lot, and had an odd smell about them. We used to spend a lot of time on our Aunt Grace's farm...so it wasn't the smell of hard work and farming...maybe it was the smell of cheap bourbon. I can't say for sure...but I digress.
The tree would usually sit out on our back patio for what, to me, seemed like months. In actuality, it was probably a few days. Inevitably, we would wake one morning to see the tree, in the tree stand, naked and waiting to be decorated. Us kids would help a bit...but really, we were pretty lazy. Mom didn't seem to mind. As long as we were there. In no time at all, she would have that tree looking like something out of the Sears catalogue!
Seeing the tree lit up in the day time was nice, but I thought it looked best at night, with all of the other lights out. Just the soft glow of the fairy lights warming the house with their sparkling effulgence always looked so, well...for lack of a better word...pretty! But that was nothing compared to Xmas morning.
Mom would go all out and tastefully decorate the whole house. Decorations on the doors and windows, and of course the banister. We didn't have a fireplace, so our stockings were hung on the banister with care....you know the rest.
Xmas morning meant getting up early, after maybe 7 minutes of sleep (Hey! Did you hear something on the roof????). The first sight we saw were those stockings, stuffed to the point of looking ready to burst, hanging on the banister. It was TOY TIME!!!!!!!! We would grab those stockings and race to the family room where our eyes would behold the most magical sight of all: Mom's tree and all of the presents...wrapped in tin foil!
OK, you might think that sounds weird. Sure, we could have easily afforded fancy wrapping paper...but our mother was not only creative, she was pragmatic. The twinkle of the Xmas tree lights would radiate and bounce off of those mountains of presents. As I think back, it didn't matter was those gifts were...my memory is always of how it looked. A glowing Xmas wonderland!
Like I said, our Mom had a pragmatic approach to Xmas morning, as well as her creative and sometimes spoiling nature. With 4 kids, her, dad, our grandmother and 2 great aunties, as well as the dogs, that tin foil was much more easily smooshed into balls and pitched into the Xmas morning garbage bag. Regular wrapping paper would've filled up twice as many bags! See! Our Mom was a genius. Not only was it a beautiful sight on Xmas morning, it was also easy to get rid of!
After all of the presents were opened, and we kids would be playing with our toys, Mom would get to take it easy and have a smoke while dad and our grandmother would usually make Xmas breakfast. Gram usually had made a few loaves of banana nut bread and dad would make bacon and eggs...the only time I ever recall him making eggs! (one of the downsides to having a cardiologist father...eggs were EVIL! I've eaten them maybe 3 times in my life. They have no flavor to me.) Dad would make his fancy eggs...cooking them in the oven in a muffin tin. Looked spiffy and all...but as a kid, I never ate. I hated most food. I liked the banana nut bread and the Xmas cookies...but other than that, all I wanted was peanut butter and mashed potatoes. (Needless to say, my palette has expanded greatly...but I still love peanut butter and mashed potatoes)
Usually while all of this was going on, a neighbor kid, Bruce Greenhouse (who was Jewish) would stop by and want to play. He was a tad hyper...but a good kid. Dad would grumble and Mom would politely explain that we were having our Xmas and send him home. Year after year this scenario played out. Every year Dad would grumble (something he has down to an art form) and every year Mom would be sweet as pie to Bruce...sometimes sending him off with some cookies for his family or one of the multitudinous loaves of nut bread. Mom was truly the Queen of Xmas!
Like I said, I still hate decorating the tree...but I always have one. Always an artificial one. (Mom would've hated that!) The last few years, the young'un and I have used my grandmother's old ceramic table top tree, as we live with a cat. Cats + Xmas trees = inevitable crash/mess. I don't have that to do.
It's Mom's (and Aunt Nancy's) birthday. You know what? I might just pull out the old artificial tree and put it up and decorate it...in honor of their memory. If only I can find a way to keep the cat off of it.....
 |
| Our Mom, dolled up for Xmas...sometime in the 1960s |
Friday, December 13, 2013
The Inner Voice
We all have an inner voice. Some of my former clients have many of them...but for the sake of this piece, we'll just deal with that one inner voice that we all seem to have.
Our inner voice rarely yells. It doesn't need to. It tells us what we should already know. My inner voice tends to be a smart ass (surprise surprise!) and cracks jokes all the time.
I had a client years ago named Albert. Albert had a significant impact on my life in many ways. He was about 60, had Down Syndrome, and for all intents and purposes, couldn't speak. He called most people "Hey Babyyyy!". He called me "Cuckoo". He knew me well, apparently.
Albert had spent a large part of his life living in institutions and state hospitals. He had family contact, just not lots of it. He learned what he learned as best he could. That said, in many ways, he was wiser than most.
One of the things that amazed me about Albert was his level of perception. I never knew Albert to go to church. His family may have taken him; I don't know. What I do know is that he recognized religious symbols. Not just Christian either. Whenever he would see a religious symbol, he would stop, get down on his knees, and pray a mumbly little unintelligible prayer.
This happened wherever we went. We could be out for a walk and he would see a nativity scene, and down to his knees he went. Same thing would happen if he saw a menorah.
One year, he and another client were at my house during the holidays. My auntie was still alive then and had invited them over for cookies and punch and a little holiday cheer...at someplace that wasn't a group home.
While here, I asked the guys if they wanted to help me trim the Christmas tree...and let me tell you, they were excited to do so! I've never been a fan of decorating the tree but if I'm with someone who does enjoy it, it makes it more fun for me.
Well, Albert and this other guy were just having a blast! They oh-so-carefully chose ornaments from one of my auntie's many boxes of them, and gingerly placed them on the tree.
Albert then noticed something. My auntie had a beautifully ornate porcelain Buddha sitting on the bottom shelf of a decorative table in the living room. Albert couldn't take his eyes off of it. Next thing we know, Albert walks over to the Buddha, gets down on his knees and does his mumbly little prayer. He knew the significance. The best I can guess, his inner voice told him what this thing was. The glowing smile he gave us afterwards told us all we ever needed to know about Albert and true faith. I believe that he understood that faith isn't about dogma or rituals or God, Allah, Buddha, or the Great Cosmic It. It is about peace and love and understanding.
Listen to your inner voice. Chances are, it's the voice of reason.
Our inner voice rarely yells. It doesn't need to. It tells us what we should already know. My inner voice tends to be a smart ass (surprise surprise!) and cracks jokes all the time.
I had a client years ago named Albert. Albert had a significant impact on my life in many ways. He was about 60, had Down Syndrome, and for all intents and purposes, couldn't speak. He called most people "Hey Babyyyy!". He called me "Cuckoo". He knew me well, apparently.
Albert had spent a large part of his life living in institutions and state hospitals. He had family contact, just not lots of it. He learned what he learned as best he could. That said, in many ways, he was wiser than most.
One of the things that amazed me about Albert was his level of perception. I never knew Albert to go to church. His family may have taken him; I don't know. What I do know is that he recognized religious symbols. Not just Christian either. Whenever he would see a religious symbol, he would stop, get down on his knees, and pray a mumbly little unintelligible prayer.
This happened wherever we went. We could be out for a walk and he would see a nativity scene, and down to his knees he went. Same thing would happen if he saw a menorah.
One year, he and another client were at my house during the holidays. My auntie was still alive then and had invited them over for cookies and punch and a little holiday cheer...at someplace that wasn't a group home.
While here, I asked the guys if they wanted to help me trim the Christmas tree...and let me tell you, they were excited to do so! I've never been a fan of decorating the tree but if I'm with someone who does enjoy it, it makes it more fun for me.
Well, Albert and this other guy were just having a blast! They oh-so-carefully chose ornaments from one of my auntie's many boxes of them, and gingerly placed them on the tree.
Albert then noticed something. My auntie had a beautifully ornate porcelain Buddha sitting on the bottom shelf of a decorative table in the living room. Albert couldn't take his eyes off of it. Next thing we know, Albert walks over to the Buddha, gets down on his knees and does his mumbly little prayer. He knew the significance. The best I can guess, his inner voice told him what this thing was. The glowing smile he gave us afterwards told us all we ever needed to know about Albert and true faith. I believe that he understood that faith isn't about dogma or rituals or God, Allah, Buddha, or the Great Cosmic It. It is about peace and love and understanding.
Listen to your inner voice. Chances are, it's the voice of reason.
Thursday, December 12, 2013
Jesus Doesn't Live Here Anymore
This country is obviously more fucked up than I'd ever believed.
I've recently read articles about different major cities debating whether or not to outlaw feeding the homeless. The thought that anyone would ever think this is a bad idea just shows how fucked we are here.
It's bad enough that our country believes that health care is a privilege; only those who can afford it can have it. Same with our justice system. I read today about a 16 year white old boy who killed four people in a drunken car crash being given probation over jail time, simply because he's rich and didn't understand that his actions had consequences. Had that been a poor black kid, the courts would probably have pushed for the death penalty.
I've never seen our country so deeply divided. When I was a kid in school, we were taught "United we stand, divided we fall." I'm waiting for the inevitable fall.
I'm seeing so much bad in this country lately that I'm having a tough time seeing the good that I know is around me. It's no wonder than suicide rates go up around the holidays...it seems like the media is going out of it's way to only show the ugly side of humanity.
We should all be coming together to make this world a better place...at least at this time of year. But...we're not.
I was getting ready to walk to the store this evening when this song hit me...out of nowhere. Sometimes that what songs do...they come on all at once and demand that they be written. I grabbed the closest guitar and my fingers automatically went to the chords. My right hand started to strum a waltz (another one!) and the words poured out of me faster than I knew what to do with. I lost a couple of verses because I couldn't keep up with myself.
I think this song says it all. America no longer has a use for faith. We put our stock in science and the media. If you call yourself a Christian, you're equated with the lunatics on the right...the Westboro Baptists and such. Americans have traded in actual faith for a few memorized prayers from childhood and the belief that if we SAY we're Christians, and go to church once in a while, that we'll all be OK.
That's not how it works. Christ's message was one of love, not greed...not only when it's convenient or beneficial. Instead of following His message, we follow the latest celebrities. Atheism is the new Christianity. Atheists and agnostics are more militant than any Christian, Jew, Muslim, Buddhist, etc. has ever been. They count only on facts. There is no room for faith.
There's a meme I often see, and I've heard a song with the same title: "Y'all motherfuckers need Jesus!" We do. We really do.
If you've read this far, please take 3 more minutes and listen to this. Let me know what you think.
Merry Christmas!
I've recently read articles about different major cities debating whether or not to outlaw feeding the homeless. The thought that anyone would ever think this is a bad idea just shows how fucked we are here.
It's bad enough that our country believes that health care is a privilege; only those who can afford it can have it. Same with our justice system. I read today about a 16 year white old boy who killed four people in a drunken car crash being given probation over jail time, simply because he's rich and didn't understand that his actions had consequences. Had that been a poor black kid, the courts would probably have pushed for the death penalty.
I've never seen our country so deeply divided. When I was a kid in school, we were taught "United we stand, divided we fall." I'm waiting for the inevitable fall.
I'm seeing so much bad in this country lately that I'm having a tough time seeing the good that I know is around me. It's no wonder than suicide rates go up around the holidays...it seems like the media is going out of it's way to only show the ugly side of humanity.
We should all be coming together to make this world a better place...at least at this time of year. But...we're not.
I was getting ready to walk to the store this evening when this song hit me...out of nowhere. Sometimes that what songs do...they come on all at once and demand that they be written. I grabbed the closest guitar and my fingers automatically went to the chords. My right hand started to strum a waltz (another one!) and the words poured out of me faster than I knew what to do with. I lost a couple of verses because I couldn't keep up with myself.
I think this song says it all. America no longer has a use for faith. We put our stock in science and the media. If you call yourself a Christian, you're equated with the lunatics on the right...the Westboro Baptists and such. Americans have traded in actual faith for a few memorized prayers from childhood and the belief that if we SAY we're Christians, and go to church once in a while, that we'll all be OK.
That's not how it works. Christ's message was one of love, not greed...not only when it's convenient or beneficial. Instead of following His message, we follow the latest celebrities. Atheism is the new Christianity. Atheists and agnostics are more militant than any Christian, Jew, Muslim, Buddhist, etc. has ever been. They count only on facts. There is no room for faith.
There's a meme I often see, and I've heard a song with the same title: "Y'all motherfuckers need Jesus!" We do. We really do.
If you've read this far, please take 3 more minutes and listen to this. Let me know what you think.
Merry Christmas!
Saturday, December 7, 2013
Top 5 of 2013
If you know me, you know how much music means to me. Long ago, I gave up any chance of a normal life to immerse myself, thoroughly, in music. No regrets there!
I love that after all of these years, I can still hear something and get the same physical and emotional sensations that I got as a child listening to Beethoven, The Beatles, Hendrix, Sex Pistols, and more.
These are 5 of my faves from this past year (or so). It's been brought to my attention that I am sometimes slow at picking up on new artists. Well, I can't listen to everything all the time! I create a lot of music myself, and that seriously takes up most of my time. The creative process is very much like a form of mania. It overwhelms the creator...but in the best way possible! But I'm digressing...
The following videos are from acts that I've either just discovered in the past year, or have been aware of and they're now back! With the exception of Valerie June, I've come to know all of these acts personally and as people, they are just as awesome as their music. Valerie June...we WILL be hanging out one of these days! And when we do, I will talk you out of ever letting another producer mess up your music! (Take note Danny! You messed her shit up!) As for Sister Cookie, I am so damned glad she's back making music again! I first heard her in 2008 and fell in love with her sound! She's a sweet gal too...and I hope that my online proddings had something to do with bringing her back. Stevie Tombstone is such an amazing writer...he's one of those cats I envy at times. Damned nice guy too! Clint Bradley and the Blue Cats do their own damned thing...and I love it! In our many correspondences, Clint and I are both of the mind that rockabilly is a great musical genre but it needs to be allowed to grow...not be relegated to museum piece status. Scenesters are bad thing.
And Rev. Beatman....definitely his own thang! Not much more can be said...other than as unique as his music is, he is every bit the uniquely sweet guy!
Hope you enjoy these cats! They're ALL great!!!!!!! They're in no particular order...so just dig em!
M
I love that after all of these years, I can still hear something and get the same physical and emotional sensations that I got as a child listening to Beethoven, The Beatles, Hendrix, Sex Pistols, and more.
These are 5 of my faves from this past year (or so). It's been brought to my attention that I am sometimes slow at picking up on new artists. Well, I can't listen to everything all the time! I create a lot of music myself, and that seriously takes up most of my time. The creative process is very much like a form of mania. It overwhelms the creator...but in the best way possible! But I'm digressing...
The following videos are from acts that I've either just discovered in the past year, or have been aware of and they're now back! With the exception of Valerie June, I've come to know all of these acts personally and as people, they are just as awesome as their music. Valerie June...we WILL be hanging out one of these days! And when we do, I will talk you out of ever letting another producer mess up your music! (Take note Danny! You messed her shit up!) As for Sister Cookie, I am so damned glad she's back making music again! I first heard her in 2008 and fell in love with her sound! She's a sweet gal too...and I hope that my online proddings had something to do with bringing her back. Stevie Tombstone is such an amazing writer...he's one of those cats I envy at times. Damned nice guy too! Clint Bradley and the Blue Cats do their own damned thing...and I love it! In our many correspondences, Clint and I are both of the mind that rockabilly is a great musical genre but it needs to be allowed to grow...not be relegated to museum piece status. Scenesters are bad thing.
And Rev. Beatman....definitely his own thang! Not much more can be said...other than as unique as his music is, he is every bit the uniquely sweet guy!
Hope you enjoy these cats! They're ALL great!!!!!!! They're in no particular order...so just dig em!
M
Wednesday, December 4, 2013
The Bell Ringers
When I hear the term "bell ringer", the 1st thing that usually pops into my head is Lon Chaney as Quasimodo, in The Hunchback of Notre Dame.
We just came back from the grocery store. While there, I made a mental note to look for the Salvation Army bell ringer. For years, I have tried to donate my loose change to them when I go shopping...and regardless of the annual smear campaign against them, will probably continue to do so. Why? Because I believe in most of what they do.
Sure, it seems that every year around this time, we all see some online article or blog about how these despicable Christians and their bell-ringing minions refuse to help homosexuals. Just last night, I read one of these articles (from The Gay Voice News). The article stated that the Salvation Army wants homosexuals put to death. In short, that's a load of crap.
According to the Salvation Army's own website, their stance on the subject is this:
Q: Does The Salvation Army discriminate in its delivery of services against those of a particular race or sexual orientation?
A: We strive to meet the needs of vulnerable groups and those overlooked or ignored in our communities. We make no distinction based on ethnicity or sexual orientation.
OK, so maybe some of you can't believe that, coming from the proverbial horse's mouth. Would you listen to Dan Savage, of Savage Love fame? How about The Advocate?
Dan Savage quoted Lt. Colonel David Hudson, chief secretary of Salvation Army's USA Western Territory, in regard to the allegations of discrimination. He answered,"An individual's sexuality is simply not a factor in whether or not we provide service," insisted Lt. Colonel David Hudson, chief secretary of Salvation Army's USA Western Territory, in an e-mail. While he acknowledges that the group is "an evangelical part of the universal Christian church," Hudson continues, "any instance of discrimination is in direct opposition to our core beliefs and is against all of our policy." Don't believe me? Look here. Savage seems to ignore that fact, and goes out of his way, as usual, to shout from his soapbox, "Don't Donate to The Salvation Army!", even though he shows his own ignorance in his article.
I think it's safe to say that if one wants real news about the LGBT community, one should check out The Advocate, who has reported that the Salvation Army does NOT consider homosexual orientation a sin. And guess what, even if some of it's members do, they'll still help these people anyway.
Some of these blogs and "news sites" seem to have one goal in common: creating a fuss. Why? It brings THEM attention. When in doubt, follow the money trail. These sites often quote people who use their online names, and rarely give any information that can be verified. They are vague about names, dates, times...you know, the little stuff that makes up real reporting.
No, instead, they go after the reactionary reader...the one who will probably only skim the article and then share it with as many people as possible...because they are so OUTRAGED.
Simply put: if you want to be outraged about something, be outraged about something real...like starving people...you know, one of those vulnerable groups organizations like the Salvation Army try to help.
If you don't want to donate to the Salvation Army via it's bell ringers, that's fine. Don't. No one says you have to. But in your temporary moment of outrage over the allegations of discrimination, think about the people who WON'T be helped because of your unwillingness to help.
The Salvation Army does a LOT of good. So do many other organizations. The Salvation Army just makes it a little bit easier by having their bell ringers and their kettles right there for you to find. It might not be as easy write off on your taxes as that check you wrote to another organization, but at least you get a personal Thank You.
I was disheartened to not see the bell ringer at the store today. Maybe I'll have to go looking for one downtown.
We just came back from the grocery store. While there, I made a mental note to look for the Salvation Army bell ringer. For years, I have tried to donate my loose change to them when I go shopping...and regardless of the annual smear campaign against them, will probably continue to do so. Why? Because I believe in most of what they do.
Sure, it seems that every year around this time, we all see some online article or blog about how these despicable Christians and their bell-ringing minions refuse to help homosexuals. Just last night, I read one of these articles (from The Gay Voice News). The article stated that the Salvation Army wants homosexuals put to death. In short, that's a load of crap.
According to the Salvation Army's own website, their stance on the subject is this:
Q: Does The Salvation Army discriminate in its delivery of services against those of a particular race or sexual orientation?
A: We strive to meet the needs of vulnerable groups and those overlooked or ignored in our communities. We make no distinction based on ethnicity or sexual orientation.
OK, so maybe some of you can't believe that, coming from the proverbial horse's mouth. Would you listen to Dan Savage, of Savage Love fame? How about The Advocate?
Dan Savage quoted Lt. Colonel David Hudson, chief secretary of Salvation Army's USA Western Territory, in regard to the allegations of discrimination. He answered,"An individual's sexuality is simply not a factor in whether or not we provide service," insisted Lt. Colonel David Hudson, chief secretary of Salvation Army's USA Western Territory, in an e-mail. While he acknowledges that the group is "an evangelical part of the universal Christian church," Hudson continues, "any instance of discrimination is in direct opposition to our core beliefs and is against all of our policy." Don't believe me? Look here. Savage seems to ignore that fact, and goes out of his way, as usual, to shout from his soapbox, "Don't Donate to The Salvation Army!", even though he shows his own ignorance in his article.
I think it's safe to say that if one wants real news about the LGBT community, one should check out The Advocate, who has reported that the Salvation Army does NOT consider homosexual orientation a sin. And guess what, even if some of it's members do, they'll still help these people anyway.
Some of these blogs and "news sites" seem to have one goal in common: creating a fuss. Why? It brings THEM attention. When in doubt, follow the money trail. These sites often quote people who use their online names, and rarely give any information that can be verified. They are vague about names, dates, times...you know, the little stuff that makes up real reporting.
No, instead, they go after the reactionary reader...the one who will probably only skim the article and then share it with as many people as possible...because they are so OUTRAGED.
Simply put: if you want to be outraged about something, be outraged about something real...like starving people...you know, one of those vulnerable groups organizations like the Salvation Army try to help.
If you don't want to donate to the Salvation Army via it's bell ringers, that's fine. Don't. No one says you have to. But in your temporary moment of outrage over the allegations of discrimination, think about the people who WON'T be helped because of your unwillingness to help.
The Salvation Army does a LOT of good. So do many other organizations. The Salvation Army just makes it a little bit easier by having their bell ringers and their kettles right there for you to find. It might not be as easy write off on your taxes as that check you wrote to another organization, but at least you get a personal Thank You.
I was disheartened to not see the bell ringer at the store today. Maybe I'll have to go looking for one downtown.
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