So. There we sat, once and again, in the midst of summer heat, pondering the meaning of Life. The three of us—Squirt, Yoda and I—had mowed, or perhaps mown the grass, weeded the flower beds, harvested from our little garden a variety of tomatoes, hot peppers and two heavy cantaloupe, devoured BLT’s decked out with thick slices from one of the ripe Cherokee purples previously mentioned, and slurped a bottle of icy cold Carta Blanca each.
And before you animal rights shitbirds get all up in my ass, while the three of us drank three beers, the dogs got but one full saucer each, a fact much distasteful to the Squirt.
“So why is it you get most of three beers and we only get thimblefuls? I can barely catch a buzz from what you give us and how would you ever tell if the goat dog has had too much to drink? That goofy dog always looks half in the bag.” The tiny brown mixed breed puppy named Squirt stared at me as I drained the last of the three beers. She sneered at me and snarled, “You’re an asshole!”
She’s right, of course, but I am trying hard to be a good parent to my canine charges. I made so many mistakes with my human kids that I feel these late-in-life children deserve my best shot. I’ve been told by many good parents that their kids give meaning to their lives, so I’d decided to make my best effort to use that day for personal fulfillment. As the BLT and tasty Mexican cerveza was our breakfast, I told her, I said, “How about this- we’ll have another BLT and beers for lunch, and I’ll mix a big pitcher of Margaritas for dinner. We’ll keep a mellow fuzzy buzz going until bedtime. Does that work for you?”
It did, and as we watched the day’s temperature rise through a full stomach and beer haze, the Squirt brought up the dealio with the Catholic Cardinal now facing criminal charges for inappropriate behavior with kids. “Answer me this, Mooner. When a man has Forced Sex with a woman you call it rape, but when the same fuckball rapes a child you say he molested the kid, or abused her? Makes no sense. It’s like you humans see attacking a child as less horrible than with an adult. Makes no goddamn sense.”
“You’re right, kiddo. I’ve been saying it for years, what with having been raped as a child myveryownself. If you ask me, I think it’s because men do most of the raping and women can speak their minds aloud. Kids usually don’t even speak to their attacks. Using “molest” and “abuse” makes it sound a lesser offense, something akin to the animal abuse suffered by the goat dog at that puppy mill up to Oklahoma. But I’ve gotta tell you, in my mind any unwarranted attack is a rape of sorts, but specifically forced sex is forced sex, period. That’s rape.”
Which reminds me. Now that we live 40 miles from the Okie border, mayhaps we can locate the former owners of the aforementioned puppy mill, pay them a visit. The Squirt has threatened to snap their balls off if she ever sees them and Yoda has promised to eat the resulting mountain oysters in the raw. Would that be a molestation, or a rape? As for my own rape, my birthday next week will mark the 56th anniversary of that horrible event. While my rapist wasn’t a Catholic padre, he was of the same ilk—Baptist Deacon, local business icon and Boy Scout Troop Leader—using his credentials to bad intents.
OK, let’s do a current events refresher so as to put a harsh patina on the lens through which adult humans in civilized communities must now view life. Two world leaders, each with the smug and pissy demeanor exhibited in the stereotype of a spoiled, rich thirteen-years-old teenaged boy, are in a pissing match over which of them has the less small dick. My fear is that the blue-stained out-of-focus images of world instability we now see—much akin to a documentary filmed on a cell phone with a finger-smudged lens—will turn into those equal to a cheap horror film where fake blood is splattered onto the camera to bring the evil closer to home.
I don’t know what to say anymore as it relates to the immature person who is our president. What words haven’t been said to describe the negativities and possible negativities that are, and can be resultant, of Trump’s childish demeanor? “But, but, huh, he said what, what a moron, doesn’t he realize, ah, ah, ah, whatthefuck?” don’t seem to cut it anymore. Me, I’d never want to be in charge of the nuclear codes. What with the ADD, pot smoke and mushroom juice I routinely ingest, my occasional childish outbursts are inappropriate for presidential decision making. Then, and once more again, my drug-mellowed mood would make me less likely to anger up an order to nuke Venezuela, so maybe I am actually presidential material.
Which reminds me. As the years have worn down since March of 2010, so have the comments, and commenters, to the pages herein. As I stopped writing daily, then weekly, and settled in these intermittent scribblings, my readership and the attendant comments have subsided. My good buddy BJ is the last of those Mohicans, a steadfast and thoughtful correspondent presenting responsive fodder to my printed ramblings. And speaking of Baptists and commenters brings about another thought.
There’s this fuckball Dallas pastor named Robert Jeffress who tends the flock of right-wing Christians congregated in a north Texas mega church. The good pastor is Trump’s “evangelical leader”. This fine Christian man said yesterday that Romans 13 gives President Trump the divine authority to, “Take out,” North Korean Trump wannabe Kim Jong Un. I looked up Romans 13, and give it to you as follows:
Submit to Government
13 Let every soul be subject to the governing authorities. For there is no authority except from God, and the authorities that exist are appointed by God. 2 Therefore whoever resists the authority resists the ordinance of God, and those who resist will bring judgment on themselves. 3 For rulers are not a terror to good works, but to evil. Do you want to be unafraid of the authority? Do what is good, and you will have praise from the same. 4 For he is God’s minister to you for good. But if you do evil, be afraid; for he does not bear the sword in vain; for he is God’s minister, an avenger to execute wrath on him who practices evil. 5 Therefore you must be subject, not only because of wrath but also for conscience’ sake. 6 For because of this you also pay taxes, for they are God’s ministers attending continually to this very thing. 7 Render therefore to all their due: taxes to whom taxes are due, customs to whom customs, fear to whom fear, honor to whom honor.
Love Your Neighbor
8 Owe no one anything except to love one another, for he who loves another has fulfilled the law. 9 For the commandments, “You shall not commit adultery,” “You shall not murder,” “You shall not steal,” “You shall not bear false witness,”[a] “You shall not covet,”[b] and if there is any other commandment, are all summed up in this saying, namely, “You shall love your neighbor as yourself.”[c] 10 Love does no harm to a neighbor; therefore love is the fulfillment of the law.
Now me, I’m no Bible scholar, and I’ll not waste your time translating the simple-minded concepts in this Romans quote. But I’m seeing some pretty significant broken branches in the First Baptist of Dallas preacher boy’s logic tree. Then, again, this is the same dickhead who’s built a giant Texas cult of doomsdayers by claiming the end is near for many years. Little Bobby Jeffress has been attempting to manipulate every global event into the final signal for Armageddon. And now he’s the lead religious counselor to our president.
Yea for us! So, since the end is so near, please pardon my wordiness and let’s all get together and Fuck Walmart!!!
