Sunday, September 15, 2013

The Bizaro Beatitudes.

I can't believe we let Russia soften our Military Force Boner. As a nation, we need to threaten to bring peace to somebody, with precise Tomahawk missile surgical strikes, all the time. A virile and relevant nation must always threaten to attack other nations, always, otherwise that nation looks weak. And the one nation that can never look weak is the United States, because, hey, we aren't weak! "You want to fight? You think we're weak? I could beat you guys up. Because look at these missiles!  Look at these drones! Freedom and liberty you guys!"

There is no other way to do business, or solve problems, other than precision bombing in undeclared wars, for freedom.

It just feels kind of empty and quiet, without bellicose threatening of other countries, for freedom. It would be a shame to have all of these jets and stuff without using them on some heathen country that doesn't love Jesus.  Because remember how we interpret what Jesus said:
Blessed are the strong in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.

Blessed are those who win, for they will be comforted.

Blessed are the proud, for they will inherit the earth.

Blessed are those who bomb and murder after righteousness, for they will be filled.

Blessed are the merciless, for they shall be shown mercy.

Blessed are the hard of heart, for they will see God.

Blessed are the war makers, for they will be called the sons of God.

Blessed are those who persecute because of righteousness, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.

Blessed are you when people fear you, are persecuted by you and are not allowed to say all kinds of evil against you because of me.

Be wrathful and vengeful, because great is your reward in heaven, for in the same way they persecuted the prophets who were before you.

(the preceding is sarcasm, just for the record)

Saturday, September 14, 2013


I did the deed with eyes downcast; I rolled my tiny cart into the 12 Items or Less line, and silently counted my items: 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16. It was Saturday morning, and the supermarket was very busy. I looked across at the other check lanes, and they were all full of carts that were all full of goods; normally I would have gone to another lane, but so busy! I wasn't about to move.

But the shame. The shame of it. All my life, I've scoffed at those who would scoff at the orderly lining up of customers. I used to count, with a glowing sense of satisfaction, as the person in front of me would put their items on the belt. I would count. "Oh, thirteen items, eh," I would think, and then I'd feel that smug sense of self-righteousness as I recounted my ten items. Well below the limit.

But today: There I was with sixteen items. Four past the limit. I could have done with two less cans of soup. That would have put me at fourteen. The bag of chips? The jar of salsa? Those weren't even on my list. I could have squeaked in at twelve items, but no.

The old man behind me had two items. I could see it in his eyes. He knew. He was judging me. I had 16 items.

And as the checkout guy beeped across my items. 1...2...3... and eventually, the twelfth  beep: thirteen, fourteen, fifteen, SIXTEEN. Each beep announcing that here was a villain who couldn't follow the rules. Here stood a proud, conceited man who thought he was too important to wait in line with everyone else.

Burning with shame, I swiped my card, unable to muster even the courage to get cash back. I put my plastic bags in the cart and fled, and then:


I turned. The checkout guy held up a plastic bag, like an accusation. I had forgotten a bag. I had so many. In the express lane! So many that my greed and prideful disdain for the rule of law had made me forget. I slinked back and got the last bag.

Oh! Shall I ever show my face again? For shame! For shame!

Wednesday, September 11, 2013


freedom, oil
freedom, oil
freedom, freedom, freedom
war, war, lots of war,
war, war, terror, war,
war, terror, boom, boom, boom,
freedom, oil, war.

About Me

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I am the author of 5 books: Android Down, Firewood for Cannibals, The Cubicles of Madness, Robot Stories, and most recently, Various Meats and Cheeses. I live and write in Michigan. My website is at