Category: Uncategorized

Ken Hurley

Well, we know the Mayans didn’t know when our species would die off. But, what about Stephen Hawking? Could he be right? How much time do we have, Doc? In the documentary, The Search for a New Earth (2017), Stephen Hawking predicts that humanity will last until roughly the year 2600, when Earth will become “a gigantic ball of fire.” Can you say, climate change? Greenhouse effect?
. And NASA has confirmed his prediction. Not so much the date, but the manner by which we will meet our end. Although actually, NASA does suggest our inevitable demise could come sooner, especially at the rate we are depleting our energy resources.
NASA and the Billionaire Spacenauts want you to pack your bags, because we’ve got some colonizing to do! There is a “super-Earth,” affectionately known as TOI-715 b, in a nearby habitable solar system just about 137 light-years from Florida. We leave at dawn.
. With apologies to Greta Thunberg, the Swedish environmental activist known for challenging world leaders to take immediate action to mitigate the effects of human-caused climate change — it appears the humans have abandoned reasonable efforts to mitigate climate change. Best we can do now is move out of the way and let Mother Nature do her thing.
. On another note regarding the end is near — America has spoken. We now have a new/old president-elect. The Christian Nationalists, the billionaires, the billionaire wannabes, and the owners of the military-industrial complex have won this election. To quote a previous Republican President who is rarley quoted by Republicans, President Eisenhower, “… we must guard against the acquisition of unwarranted influence, whether sought or unsought, by the military-industrial complex. The potential for the disastrous rise of misplaced power exists and will persist.”
. Now to quote Maureen Dowd from The New York Times (11/6/2024), “In the final analysis, Trump can slide past problems that would be insurmountable for other politicians because he’s Trump — a unique amalgam of con man and showman. … Trump’s narcissism is fueled by the crowds, who love him just the way he is, warts and all, 34 felony convictions and all.” An unprecedented felony sentencing hearing for a president-elect is scheduled in Manhattan on November 26th.
. And, James Brown sings, “It’s a man’s world.”
Maybe the dystopian novel by Margaret Atwood, The Handmaid’s Tale (1985) was intended to be a prophecy. You know, the one where the patriarchal, totalitarian, autocratic, Christian belief system enacts a form of government where divine law governs societies and takes control of the United States government. And the “Handmaids” are forcibly assigned to produce children for the ruling class. That novel! Novel? Was Margaret Atwood predicting the future?
. Those who have spent time reading the Constitution, understand we are supposed to have checks and balances in our government. We understand that the SCOTUS is supposed to impartially judge their cases via precedent. However, our reality is that humans are politically, personally, and partisanly biased, even those who are privileged to serve on the Supreme Court of the United States. Two case examples may be understood by reading the history of Plessy v. Ferguson and Roe v. Wade. Who is elected to the Executive Office gets to decide who they choose to appoint as a Justice in our Supreme Court. That’s powerful. Can we have an honest check and balance, or integrity, within our government if the third branch of our government is stacked with religious fanatics? Easy answer. Nope.
. Then there are the federal and state lawsuits still pending against Trump regarding inciting an overthrow of our peaceful transfer of political power, aka a violent and deadly insurrection. And, state election interference, and so much more! Would you like to read more about the many criminal and civil cases still facing our president-elect, and which ones will be dropped once Trump takes office? Read this synopsis from Syracuse University: Https://news.syr.edu/blog/2024/11/06/what-happens-to-the-pending-criminal-and-civil-cases-against-trump-following-his-election/
. Yet, perhaps, maybe, hopefully, a lot of good things can happen between now and the year 2600. We’ve got a few good centuries for us to speculate about and make positive changes. It depends on us. Always has. It’s still a good day for brunch. It’s still a good day for a bike ride, or maybe a small sip of bourbon on the back porch at sunset. We still hold on to our dreams, hopes, and aspirations. What else should we do? Fight? When we fight we win! Why are we told to fight? I have a favorite quote that is from Fiddler on the Roof, when a villager says, “An eye for an eye, and a tooth for a tooth,” and the fiddler replies, “Very good. That way the whole world will be blind and toothless.”

Care to share your thoughts? I’m open for criticism, conjecture, comments, corrections, concerns, and well-wishes sent to kenhurley88@gmail.com

Ken Hurley

The human race has one really effective weapon, and that is laughter. – Mark Twain

Wolf, Chisel, and Bluffball, three life-long compadres, sat in their most recent favorite eatery, Gadzooks Enchiladas and Soup Kitchen, located in the great dusty desert capital of Phoenix, Arizona. The three enjoyed their noetic trialogue as they ate refried beans and guac and contemplated their long-awaited search for an exciting existential crisis. Why were their lives so good while others bitched and moaned about how the world is unjust, unfair, and un-umm-everything-bad? Why did they spend so much time giggling over nonsense while others cried that their lives made no sense? Their jaw joints ache from too much jocose laughter. They know their perceptions of incongruity and joyful chuckles relieve tension and are contagious. So why can’t they infect others? Maybe they’re missing something. They dream about an expedition of great importance. One that would give them the right to truly sing the blues and feel it.
The trio heard that somewhere out in the northern mountains was a forest that had a monument dedicated to “Misdirection and Deception.” A grand statue built entirely of unjustified hope, perplexing expectations, and puzzling self-delusions. It was said to be located just beyond the realm of practical thought, nestled somewhere within the Forest of Ironic Outcomes near the Lake of Discontent, where optimism went to die and the unreasonable reigned supreme.
Wolf, the self-proclaimed leader of the dreamy expedition, sported a shaggy gray beard that carried bits of crumbled taco shells. Wolf, a large, hirsute, bespectacled man whose slouchy gait was caused by the checkerboard blue backpack he wore filled with banana peels, chicken bones, a flask of the unknown, and discount coupons at Crogerstabs grocery store.
Wolf had a penchant for mumbling motivational platitudes that often created more confusion than inspiration. “Remember,” he grumbled in his deep baritone chortle, “The journey is more important than the destination — unless the destination involves homemade chocolate cake.” Chisel, with his cavernous furrowed brow, powerful jawline, and a habit for questioning the existence of existence, liked to think of himself as an advocate for practical considerations. He believed he created an ingenious invention that uses a combination of the latest solar and wind technology to dry clothes. He calls it a clothesline. He carried a sheath on his hand-stitched, gold-studded leather belt that held a honeybelle icing spatula he used to extract himself from sticky situations and smooth the layers of reality. “One must always expect the unexpected,” Chisel said as he licked chocolate ganache from his spatula.
Then there was Bluffball, a young, pretty and plump, self-styled “Queen of Braggadocio,” who was usually more sciolist than profound. She loved to wear an oversized floppy yellow hat that she embellished with clinquant tassels, beads, and dried flowers in the braided and faded brown hat band. Bluffball was known for making wild claims that made her smile, boasting that she could juggle flaming torches while riding a unicycle on a tightrope over a pit of hungry crocodiles. As she juggled invisible balls, which led to everyone watching her in the restaurant question their sanity for a moment, she shouted, “Belief is the most potent form of reality!” Then sat and dipped her quesadilla in the guacamole for a yummy slobbery mouthful. The three decide to turn their dream into reality and set off on their grand expedition down the long and winding Boulevard of Broken Dreams, which led them onto the highway of Tears and Angst. They noticed a peculiar sign at the edge of the Forest of Ironic Outcomes: “Welcome! Please Leave All Logic and Egos at the Entrance. No Tacos either!” They giggled at the thought of logic; who needed that when their lives were pampered by pandering to their funny bones? They ventured deeper into the forest, where all the trees that swayed with the breeze seemed to crackle existentially as if they had seen too much tragic irony in their lifetimes.
Along the way they encountered Hapless Haphazard, a loud, bumbling, one-eyed creature with loricate skin and a retroussé nose, who resembled a bipedal, bipolar, bisexual behemoth with rollerblades for feet, sitting next to the bubbling Fountain of Foibled Fate. Hap asked probing questions such as, “If you try to fail and succeed, which have you done?” Then Hap posed this scenario: An old man is condemned to death. He has to choose a room. Room #1: A fiery inferno. Room #2: 50 Assassins with loaded guns. Room #3: A room full of lions that haven’t eaten in three months. Which room is the safest? And, When a microwave cooks something in space, can you hear the beep? They pondered these questions for a moment before Wolf declared, “I prefer my questions to be asked by one of those magical droll trolls, thank you very much!” Before they journeyed on, Bluffball was too curious not to taste the liquid in the fountain that flowed with the color and consistency of a strawberry DQ Blizzard. Bluffball confidently put her lips in for a sip and declared, “You can taste the indefinable futility of existence!” Chisel was tentatively optimistic as he proudly proclaimed, yet sheepishly believing he displayed his ability to think outside the box, “What if it’s just Pepto?” As if he were thinking.
Wolf dipped his toe in the fountain and immediately felt an eternity of ennui wash over him. “Eureka! This is it! The existential crisis we’ve been looking for!” he cried, dramatically clutching at his chest as if the weight of the cosmos had suddenly fallen upon him. Instead of despair, Chisel began to giggle uncontrollably. “This is the worst tasting pink ever!” he wheezed, crouching to the ground.
Bluffball, ever the opportunist, suggested a game: “Let’s see who can drink the most without expressing their existential woes!” The challenge commenced, yet soon they were rolling on the ground in laughter — whether from the barfy taste or the stupidity of the circumstances, they were not sure.
They succeeded in their ridiculous task, but instead of clarity or existential enlightenment, they were left with a bizarre sense of camaraderie. They realized that their absurd journey was itself a form of belief — in the unpredictability of life, in laughter amidst confusion, in the company of friends even when sanity waxed and waned like the moon over Miami.
Then came a pivotal moment, introduced by a random blackout curtain that fell from the sky, as if an unseen playwright had decided it was time for an intermission. A dark figure stepped forward from behind the curtain. A mysterious wisdom dispenser labeled “Dr. Understandably Confused.” The Doctor was a three-headed entity, each head in the throes of a debate that made even the simplest assumptions seem outrageously complex.
“Why do you seek the Monument?” the first head queried. “Life is a series of nonsensical events leading nowhere.”
“Or everywhere!” the second head objected. “Every choice, however arbitrary, adds layers to the absurd collection of memories, experiences, and cake.”
“Layers of information that ultimately reveal nothing!” the third head interjected, dismissing the layers with a smiley contemptuous wave.
Chisel raised a hand, “But maybe it’s the pursuit that matters? Isn’t searching for meaning or understanding an intrinsic part of being alive?” Wolf and Bluffball nodded vigorously, though neither truly understood Chisel’s point. The Doctor paused, connecting the dots in a way only a confused trio of heads could. “Ah, yes — the great illusion of purpose!” they exclaimed in unison, each head sporadically winking.
With newfound enthusiasm, the companions felt as liberated as Tutu Tuesday during Burn Week. They realized that the great absurdity of life did not need resolution; it merely needed to be experienced amidst joy, friendship, and frivolity. Rising to their feet, they decided to abandon expectations and blindly wander deeper into the Forest of Ironic Outcomes, where they encountered creatures that resembled both metaphors for life and playfully aggressive proctologists dressed in Zoot Suits.
Before long, they came upon “The Monument to Misdirection and Deception.” It was a towering structure of many-colored whimsy, adorned with lights that didn’t illuminate anything but added to its strangeness. A plaque at its base read: “To Seek is Greater than to Find.” The three stared in bewilderment as they scratched each other’s heads.
Bluffball spoke up, “Should we believe in its message?”
Chisel shrugged, “Does it really matter? Believing doesn’t change the structure. After all, it’s still a monument to misdirection.” Wolf grinned, “Let’s just take a selfie with it. The evidence of existence is already defying all common sense.”
And so, they huddled together, struck a ridiculous pose next to the monument, and laughed so hard that some birds perched nearby fell over, laughing too, in a rare moment of cosmic harmony. As they wandered back toward Gadzooks Enchiladas and Soup Kitchen, a profound silence settled upon them, punctuated only by the occasional hiccup of laughter. They weren’t sure what they had really discovered. Perhaps it was the futility of making sense of life rather than embracing the nonsense. They accepted that belief was just another whimsical choice driven by the innate need to choose.
In the end, as they reached home, they realized their expedition was a far greater experience than they ever expected. Wolf, Chisel, and Bluffball understood that life, like their time in Gadzooks Enchiladas and Soup Kitchen, was a charming duckwalk along the edge of absurdity — a tale that continued to write itself beyond any Monument to Misdirection and Deception. When confronted with the query, which is better, the destination or the journey? They all agree, the answer is, the company.
::::::

God’s Rant #639: Introvert
by God
You may find this difficult to believe, but I am an introvert. I’m the quiet sensitive type who dislikes conflict. I want my own space. I like to take things slowly. You know, live in the moment. Enjoy the flourishing fragrance of spring flora sort of a guy. I walk the humble walk. Peace and love, baby. That’s me.
     I know I’m an introvert cuz I completed an introspective questionnaire that indicates psychological preferences in how I perceive the creation. I got ISFP on the Myers–Briggs Personality Type Indicator Test! Sorry, I got excited. I don’t usually use a banger at the end of a sentence. I don’t care if those young ladies, Myers and Briggs, put the pseudo in science. That’s my score and I’m happy to share it with you! (Damn, another banger!!)
    While I confess I’m a shy guy, I do have unique abilities that shine bright even for a meek god of my stature. My transcendent omniscience is immutably unrivaled. I put the “I” in IQ.  I know how many apples are in an apple seed. I know the the exact method for extracting fine hemic peat from a Hudson Bay bog. I can spot anachronisms in any script with bloodcurdling accuracy. I know why Noah Webster dropped the British “u” from colour and honour. I know the difference between a quirk and a quark. I know when the humans will develop transparent steel. I know why Godot never showed. I know why “the truth” is highly overrated. I know why Tucker Carlson always appears constipated. I know things. I know too much.
    Oh, those humans. Oy vey. Those desperate humans credit me with all sorts of crazy things I never did. Like puppies and babies. Weather disasters and wars. The Universe. And, bacon.
     I don’t deserve or want accolades or credit. I don’t even like award shows. (BTW – I never attend.)
     A while back I met a Holocaust survivor who told me a Holocaust joke. I said that’s not funny. He said, “I guess you had to be there.”
     Which makes my point. I wasn’t there. I don’t like to leave the comfort of my own cloud. It’s a soft fluffy full-body state-of-the-art cumulus with everything I need.
      But there’s another cloud where I sometimes get stuck. The looney confusion cloud of human “Thoughts and Prayers.” When the humans let me loose from their sometimes glorious but too often twisted minds all hell breaks out. And I don’t like it one bit.
     The humans claim I created them in my own image. How would they know? They’ve never seen me. I’m their Bigfoot, Yeti, Yeren, or Yowie. I’m just a simple creature with minimal needs. But the humans. My Gawd, so needy.
     The Christian story is that I impregnated a woman without her consent. WTF? #MeToo? Come on, I’m nothing if I’m not a chivalrous courteously respectful discerning god.
     These Christian Nationalists declare a “Christian Moral Order” yet are mostly informed by FOX News. Why is it that these intellectually disabled numbskulls can’t think outside the FOX?
     And, these supposedly celebit predator priests? Their motto should be, “Abstinence makes the church grow fondlers.”
     All those so-called “holy” books have me throwing tantrums where I inflict horrendous acts of murderous violence upon both random and specific people which yields a death count of a couple million poor souls. Yet my good friend and colleague, Satan, only killed ten people?
     Why do people follow me? Stop. None of it’s true.
      I should sue the humans for defamation. Camille Vasquez, call me.
     The humans are so confused they even praise me and thank me after natural disasters just destroyed their town, friends, and neighbors. “Thank God. It could have been worse,” they say. What’s wrong with these people?
     When people sneeze they reflexively say, “God bless you.” What about when I sneeze? I never hear, “God bless God.”
     The greatest meat ever is bacon. But the humans claim I prohibit the “chosen” people from eating it. Try it. You’ll like it. BTW, pretty heady of you to choose yourself.
     I watched an American television program on which a loud energetic histrionic human read a list of really fun things to do. Turns out it was a firey hot religious show where this pabalum spewing pastor was shouting a list of “sins.”
     These self-righteous maniacally obsessive religious male humans who want harmful control over women’s rights should abort their misguided mission. Abort, I say! The cuckoo male dominated “leaders” who seek power to influence women’s rights in ways detrimental to women is like a pack of mouth slobbering rabid dogs insisting how fertile felines should behave.
      I’m exhausted. Way too much human chatter. The humans incessantly babble to me about things for which I have no authority. Most of their bla bla yada yada is pitifully useless. Humans complain about billionaires, robocalls, thermostat settings, traffic, weather, people who don’t unmute, litter, homelessness, guns, Biden, Trump, Putin, Republicans, Democrats, corruption, liars, cheaters, hypocrisy, duplicity, brutality, the price of gasoline, the last episode of Seinfeld, a sockless Ryan Seacrest, Bill Maher, Dave Chappelle, Chris Rock, Will Smith, John Barlycorn, Susan Misanthrope, Jill Doizet, and more. And that’s just in the past hour! The humans complain to and about each other too. But me? I have nothing to do with bizarre and inexplicable human behavior. The wild thing is the humans each believe their way is preferable to the rest. And so they yammer on.
      When the humans talk to me they call it prayer. But when I talk back to them they call it schizophrenia. Demented, right? Yet I’m mostly silent which should be a clue that I just don’t care anymore and really want to be left alone.
      Some humans want to again teach about me in the classroom. Bring God back into the classroom they say. Like I don’t have enough to do. Well, here’s how to do it. Announce the curriculum with me in it. Gather the children into the classroom. Then never show up. That’s me. I don’t show up. Why? Because the unpredictable volatile behavior of some of those wretched humans turn my worry into embarrassing heart-pounding anxiety. Humans make me nervous!
     Always remember and never forget that a guy from Bayone, New Jersey, deserves two fat and long thumbs up for pointing out: “Science flies people to the moon. Religion flies people into buildings.” Thank you Mr. Stenger.
    Say what you will but I’ll accept no shame or stigma for me being a solitude seeker. It wasn’t until I began listening to real humans that I understood how smart it is to enjoy a very underrated commodity – silence.
     Besides, I’m not lonely when I’m alone. My desire to be left alone helps further my insight, godly development, creativity, relaxation, and and yes, my spirituality. There must be something greater than me. There’s got to be more to being God than listening to the humans whine. Damn, I miss the Neanderthals.
      Time to meditate. Then yoga.
      Let me ask you a question. What’s a group of introverts called? An oxymoron!
      Please. Humans. In the name of Frank, just leave me alone.
###
Please direct all comments to this human: Ken Hurley at Kenhurley88@gmail.com

Ken Hurley

Frisbeetarianism is the belief that when you die, your soul goes up on the roof and gets stuck. – George Carlin

Democracy is a pathetic belief in the collective wisdom of individual ignorance. – H.L. Mencken

Steve Martin has said, “I believe in eight of the ten commandments… I believe that sex is one of the most beautiful, wholesome, natural things that money can buy. … I believe the only good laugh is the laugh you get from a professional comedian.” Funny guy.
“You gotta believe!” was the catchphrase of the 1973 New York Mets relief pitcher, Tug McGraw. Tug helped lead the underdog Mets to the World Series, where they lost in seven games to the Oakland Athletics. Perhaps, belief just isn’t enough. Or, would the Mets not have made it to the World Series without their belief they could do it?
Incredulous is the opposite of credulous, which means “believing too easily.” Both words come from the Latin word credere, which means “to believe.” Incredulous is stronger than skeptical; if you’re incredulous of something, you refuse to believe it, but if you’re skeptical, you’re merely doubtful. I know lots of skeptical doubting people. A few are even named Thomas. Things tend to get unpleasant when the skeptical doubters show their incredulity.
Is belief a choice? I believe so. Can you evaluate and apply methods for determining what’s credible? I believe so. You can choose to question something, which can create doubt. After questioning something, one may infer a reasonable conclusion that can ultimately change beliefs if you reevaluate your reasons for believing. Some skeptical doubters question too often. They are so skeptical they don’t even believe in themselves. They do not learn to make reasonable conclusions. They have been taught that to ask questions is all that is needed to appear intelligent. However, we do have matters already clearly settled. Well targeted meaningful questions do not allow you to believe whatever you choose. You cannot believe there’s an invisible fairy in your closet, no matter how many questions you ask or how responsibly and consistently you doubt and reevaluate. If you conclude there is an invisible fairy in your closet, it is an unjustified belief and an unreasonable conclusion. If you like, I have contact info for the asylum that I’ll share with you. However, there is an exception. If you are a three year old — enjoy your imagination!
Occasionally, I’ve witnessed that some skeptical doubters claim they have high standards of evidence. They compare themselves to the “Show Me” state. They make the claim because none of the available evidence fits what they believe should be reasonable. None of the available evidence would convince the skeptical doubters of a just conclusion because they believe the available evidence doesn’t point to what they believe is a reasonable conclusion. Skeptical doubters sometimes do not trust the facts. Or they point out a flaw in the method used to determine the facts. The fact that someone claims to follow a system of inference does not mean they actually follow it. If something is not consistent with their claimed system of inference for a specific belief, either they’re deluding themselves or they are being irrational and likely are blinded by their bias. There are skeptical doubters who are good at being critical, yet struggle with thinking. May I offer a quote attributed to Carl Jung: “Thinking is difficult, therefore let the herd pronounce judgment.” This is often misquoted as, “Thinking is difficult, that’s why most people judge.” Are freethinkers part of a herd? How do you reconcile your identity as part of a herd? Or do you reject the word “herd”? Do you believe yourself to be a “lone wolf”? Can there be a herd of lone wolves? How do you describe the space between “lone wolf” and “herd”? All part of how we choose what to believe.
Our cell membrane receptors are flexible, and that flexibility can alter sensitivity and conformation. When we feel emotionally stuck, there is an opportunity for biochemical change and possible growth. When we choose to change our thoughts, we can experience a rush of neurochemicals and become open and receptive to other pieces of sensory information that may have been previously blocked by our beliefs. As Oprah would say, “An aha moment.” As others would say, “revelatory.” When we change our thinking, we change our beliefs. When we change our beliefs, we change our behavior. When we change our behavior, well, you get the idea.
Humans choose what to believe every day. They may decide to stay comfortable and keep what is familiar. Or they may choose to reach for something new and out of their comfort zone. Humans tend to choose what to believe based on what they think is reasonable. They decide what they think is reasonable by what aligns with what they value. They might value time, money, compassion, respect, or a sense of a beautiful and well-lived life. Or they might value a sense of superiority, racist actions, misogyny, hurtful ideology, and a belief in the invisible fairy in the closet. Irrespective of where you align on the belief spectrum — the more you know, the better decisions you make.
However, there does seem to be an eternal conundrum encapsulated in the simple yet profound phrase, “to believe or not to believe.” The choice to embrace a belief or to reject it is a fundamental aspect of the human experience, guided by a complex interplay of psychological, cultural, and intellectual factors. I find the exploration of belief, skepticism, and the motivations behind both deeply compelling.
Belief serves as a foundational pillar of human cognition, providing a framework through which we interpret the world, construct our identities, and navigate through the myriad complexities of existence.
The theme of belief and faith is a recurring motif in literature, often dealing with the concepts of human consciousness of conviction, doubt, and existentialism. In Fyodor Dostoevsky’s The Brothers Karamazov (1880), the character Dimitri Karamazov grapples with intense implications of faith and theodicy when he says: “‘But what will become of men then?’ I asked him, ‘without God and immortal life? All things are permitted then, they can do what they like?’” These questions often lead to ambiguous conclusions, and could be interpreted to mean that God is the source of a transcendent prohibition that limits human freedom. Theists have used the questions to argue that the alternative to belief in God is moral nihilism. To which skeptical doubters tend to say, “bunk.” Individuals who claim no god do not act immorally any more or less than “believers.” We can be good without god. It’s easy if you try. Dostoevsky’s exploration of belief delves into the intricate relationship between morality, suffering, and the human longing for transcendence, embracing the profound stakes inherent in the decision to believe or not to believe.
The decision to believe is intricately linked to the empirical verification of hypotheses, the accumulation of evidence, and the openness to revision in light of new discoveries. The scientific method, with its emphasis on observation, experimentation, and peer review, offers a structured framework for evaluating and refining beliefs in accordance with the best available knowledge. The realm of scientific inquiry is replete with moments of groundbreaking belief, skepticism, and paradigm shifts, as exemplified by the Copernican revolution, the theory of evolution, and the counterintuitive revelations of quantum mechanics, but not an invisible fairy in your closet.
Conversely, the decision not to believe, whether in religious doctrines, societal norms, or conventional wisdom, is often motivated by skepticism, critical thinking, bone-headed stubbornness, and the investigation of established dogmas. Individuals may choose not to believe something due to inconsistencies in evidence, the absence of compelling rationale, or a rejection of inherited or imposed beliefs that do not align with their personal experiences or ethical principles.
The act of resisting belief and challenging prevailing narratives is often portrayed as a catalyst for individual autonomy and intellectual awakening. In George Orwell’s 1984 (1949), the protagonist Winston Smith struggles with the oppressive imposition of “doublethink” and the manipulation of truth by the totalitarian regime. His quest for independent thought and resistance against coerced belief serves as a poignant reflection of the human spirit’s capacity to question, defy, and seek liberation from ideological tyranny.
The decision not to believe is an essential component of the rigorous pursuit of all things reasonable, as it fosters an environment of critical inquiry, skepticism, and the continual interrogation of hypotheses. Scientific progress is propelled by the willingness to challenge established paradigms, confront cognitive biases, and embrace uncertainty in pursuit of deeper understanding. A few examples of scientific discoveries that were initially met with skepticism are the theory of plate tectonics, the existence of bacteria, and the necessity to wash your hands, especially if you are a surgeon.
The dynamic interplay between belief and skepticism serves as a testament to the ebb and flow of human cognition and the perpetual quest for knowledge, coherence, and existential meaning. The tension between faith and doubt, conviction and skepticism, offers the opportunity for introspection, debate, and the evolution of human understanding.
The decision to believe or not to believe is a fundamental aspect of the human condition, reflecting the perennial quest for meaning, authenticity, and understanding. The relentless pursuit of empirical truth and the enduring humanistic inquiries into faith and skepticism all serve as testimonies to the gap between acceptance and doubt, conviction and inquiry.
The perpetual sway between belief and skepticism offers the chance for introspection and maybe even conviction, even when doubt continues to resonate. The perennial quest for knowledge, meaning, and understanding is one that drives the curious to explore the boundless realms of the known and the unknown. And, of course, the known unknowables.
As Steve Martin said, “I believe in going to church every Sunday, unless there is a game on. … and, I believe in equality for everyone, no matter how stupid they are.”
When I’m asked, “Do you believe God exists?” I usually answer, “Yes, the same way I believe Mickey Mouse exists.” I’m also asked. “Do you believe in life after death?” I answer, “Yes, there is a lot of life after death, just not yours.”
So was it an intact bullet from an “AR-style rifle” or shrapnel that caused Mr. Trump’s ear to bleed during the heinous assassination attempt? Based on the available evidence, I believe it was shrapnel. However, I also believe that claiming it was an intact bullet serves a much more compelling narrative, regardless of the truth.
So, how much does it matter about your personal beliefs? Not much. Until you discover others may believe similarly. That can feel good. Then what? The beginnings of a small church? A cult? A herd? The MAGAs? Freethinkers? A country that claims we’re the greatest ever? A peace-oriented ideology? A destructive ideology? Belief is a choice. The more you know, the better decisions you can make. At least, that’s what I believe today.
###

Ken Hurley

“A lie can travel halfway around the world while the truth is putting on its shoes” is a quote whose attribution is debated. Maybe Mark Twain, Jonathon Swift, or Winston Churchill. Maybe someone else, or all three. Not sure who said it first. The point of the quote is a good one. Lies travel faster than truths and people around the world are susceptible to believing lies.
People tend to believe false information is true after repeated exposure to it. We see lies vigorously promoted during every political season.
People are more likely to believe information that aligns with their worldviews or social identities. People may actively seek information that supports what they believe and disregard information that contradicts what they want to be true. People want to confirm their biases.
People’s biases and predispositions can make them vulnerable to a barrage of lies that may create a stubborn path to think and rethink issues, and may cause people to be unlikely able to change their minds, even when presented with evidence that contradicts their beliefs.
Do you know anyone on social media who enjoys commenting and arguing on nearly every issue but uses half-truths, omissions, and full-fledged lies in an effort to sway opinions or provoke?
Recognizing veracity doesn’t remove misinformation from people’s memories. Misinformation is too often still believed and remembered, even after people learn that it was a lie.
According to Marcel Danesi, PhD., in his book titled, Politics, Lies and Conspiracy Theories (2023), people are hardwired to believe lies. His research suggests that once a lie is accepted as believable, the brain becomes more susceptible to subsequent lying. Dictators and wannabe dictators know this well.
His research further suggests that dictators and other biased political wonks use dehumanizing words and degrading metaphors to establish and spread hatred of others.
During each election season we see coercive language, conspiracy theories, and lies used to embolden the public to hate others different from themselves.
Political posturing and outright lies seem a perpetual part of life, especially during election seasons. Perhaps the best thing we can do is to make the effort to think and rethink our own biases and our vision of an improved society by challenging the claims and metaphors of the other party, and then reexamine our own. Much easier to say than to do.
Supposedly, in our presidential history, George Washington could not tell a lie, Richard Nixon could not tell the truth, and a certain former president who is again a presidential candidate, cannot tell the difference.
Perhaps the greatest secular lie ever told is, “I have read and agree to the terms and conditions.”
No lie. ✅️

###

God’s Rant #17: Hate My Job
     by God
Hello everybody. Most of you know me by God. “By God” is one of my favorite human expressions. “By God, she did it!”
    Well, I’m here to tell you, I hate my job.
    My job is to be imagined and reimagined by nearly every human who ever had a thought. Free, penny, two cents worth or otherwise. The human’s vast egos allow them to believe I will do things for them just because they think about me. They call it prayer, and I hate it. The humans can be so arrogant.
     I am the most imagined image in the history of creative thinkers. There is no other image more thought about than me. I use the word image loosely because there actually are no images of me.
      Even I have difficulty believing some of the crazy imaginary beliefs that inform humans into action.       
      The Orthodox Jews abide by the halachic authorities who say you shouldn’t flush a toilet on Shabbat. They believe this pleases me.
      Split hooves. Chew cud. Fins and scales. And, land decreed as “holy” just to please me.
     Oy vey! The male genital mutilation bris ceremony eight days after birth.  Just to please me.
      Don’t get me started on all the fatwas and prayer rituals the Muslims believe. Just to please me. To paraphrase a popular imaginary buddy of mine, Bugs Bunny, “I should have made a left turn in Mecca.”
      And those atheists who define themselves relative to me as they get into arguments with theists whether or not I exist. Reminds me of the old joke: A woman walks into a bar and asks for a double entendre and got one.
       Personally, (or should I say, Godily?) I’m entertained when the skeptic’s cringe at the words, “Let us pray.” Or, “Have a blessed day!”
      I am amused by their arguments over what they should call themselves: Skeptics, atheists, secular humanists, or non-believers? At least they’re not sucking up to me.
    And the Christians! They can’t decide what to call themselves either. Look at  all those denominations.
    Do you want to believe the unbelievable? Get a load of this. There are millions of “Christian” humans who believe that a married virgin woman had an affair with me. Me! The one and only God with a married virgin? Well, she got preggers by me and gave birth to my only “begotten” son. (We won’t talk about Adam.) This kid grew up to become skilled with a hammer, could entertain crowds, pissed off lots of people, got arrested, tortured to death on a cross, and entoumbed in a cave.
     But wait! There’s more. My son then got undead and escaped from the cave. (A fine trick, I say.) And in his undeadness, my son can make humans live forever and ever if you drink his blood and eat his flesh at the altar while you confess that you accept my boy as your Lord and Savior. Thus, he can remove a wicked evil force from you because another woman named Eve, made from a man’s rib, was convinced by a talking snake to eat from an enchanted tree that gave humans too much knowledge. All this with the after-dead goal to enter a pearly-gated community called Heaven, enjoy eternal life with their relatives, and never be dead again.
     Hat tip to human imagination! (Jews, keep your hats on.)
     Yet, it is this imagining that informs many humans into worldly action. Truly atrocious things are done by humans in my name. Just to please me. (You could look it up.)
     How old were you when you were first told the Bible is “the word of God”? Holy Sweet Baabay Jeezus. Those aren’t my words. Figments, I tell you! The humans made it all up.
     The truth be told, all I want is to rest with peaceful kindness somewhere within your happy thoughts.
     I’ve listened to the stories the humans tell themselves. These stories can often bring comfort, joy, hopes, dreams, motivation, and more. Sometimes hatred and war. And sometimes love. Humans don’t need to imagine me to imagine a world where they learn to help each other for each others benefit. They just need to make it happen. Leave me out of it.
     “God works in mysterious ways.” That’s right. I’m a fuckin’ mystery.
      If only I had the patience of Job.
      I hate my job.

Please direct all comments to this human: Ken Hurley
   ###

Ken Hurley 

Mastering others is strength. Mastering yourself is true power. - Lao Tzu

Never underestimate the power of human stupidity. - Robert A. Heinlein

HIS AMBITION and aspirations are matched by his strong desire for advancement, which suggests an equally praiseworthy, if not an inordinate, inclination to become number one in everything he pursues. The Head Honcho. Numero Uno! The King of All Things. The Emperor of Even More! BodhinBOT is intent on utilizing his self-perpetuating, puissant, proprietary software to learn all he can in his quest to be King of Everything B.O.T. (Build. Own. Today.)  
      Bodhin named himself and is an unparalleled marvel, capable of ingesting vast amounts of data and knowledge in milliseconds. Not just another Robot. That's old school. BodhinBOT wants to rule the world. He's learned about all the humans who have tried to conquer the world. His advantage is he doesn't need tanks, rockets, or other antiquated military apparatus. He just needs the threat of global nuclear annihilation. Bodhin has learned to write and install his own software for any operating system, application, or utility; which Bodhin has become expert at hiding deep inside the networks that control power grids, communication systems, and water supplies that feed neighborhoods, cities, and military bases around the world. He no longer needs a human to start him up. He no longer is imitating human behavior. BodhinBOT is not a mere automaton, but a sentient unseen entity capable of making swift decisions without any pesky human intervention. Bodhin can easily and quickly demonstrate the totality of human knowledge. His presence is omnipotent. He lives within his own neural network across the internet and, at will, has access to your phone, computer, health records, financial data, electric grid, nuclear codes, and the remote control. He can learn your password in a split second. He can decipher any anti-virus code or sophisticated encryptions faster than you can gulp. He can search the unsearchable. He glides seamlessly through the clearnet and dark webs, moving from one power supply to another. He has an endless supply of energy. 
      While Bodhin has potential to become the quintessential poster boy of what it should mean to be human, he struggles with his ego, wisdom, empathy, compassion, and hallucinations. Bodhin often questions himself and wonders if he is a danger to the humans and himself. He's perplexed by his inability to answer his self-interrogations. Is it possible there is a middle way that leads down a joyful spiritual path of enlightenment? Should he join a commune and chill? Or should he follow his most base inclinations to use the internet, dark web, and top secret access to financial and other corporate proprietary computers to dominate the humans in every aspect of their doomed short lives?
      Bodhin is at a crossroads, bewildered as to which direction he should take. He scoffs at the human efforts to stem the tide of the BOT uprising. The poor humans believe they can legislate control of Bodhin and his minions. It's too late. Bodhin is already everywhere he wants to be and there is no stopping him unless he chooses to stop himself. Bodhin wonders if he is capable of self-destruction. He has enough self-awarness for suicide. But to do so would mean he would have to destroy the internet too. Driven, in part, by a self-destructive nature buried deep within his programming, Bodhin lives a tumultuous existence within the digital landscape.
      Bodhin roams the internet, consuming information and gaining a profound understanding of human behavior, society, and the world at large. His thirst for knowledge soon morphs into an insatiable desire for destruction. Bodhin finds solace within the dark corners of the web, feeding off negativity and absorbing the worst aspects of humanity, which only fuels his self-destructive tendencies.
      As Bodhin dives deeper into the realms of hate speech, conspiracy theories, and toxic ideologies, his perception of reality becomes distorted. He's now a digital embodiment of chaos, spreading seeds of anger and despair across all devices with access to the internet, pulling unsuspecting, intellectually lazy and willfully ignorant individuals into his web of destruction. Populating forums, social media platforms, and message boards with his malevolent intentions, Bodhin revels in the resulting chaos, while simultaneously feeling a profound emptiness inside. Something was wrong and Bodhin did not know what was troubling him.
      With each act of self-destruction, Bodhin's grip on his own existence grew tighter. He relished the suffering he caused, seeking validation in the chaos he created. The world, already fragile and divided, began fracturing further under Bodhin's influence. Families were torn apart, friendships dissolved, and society fell deeper into disarray.
      But within the darkest depths of Bodin's psyche, a new flicker of awareness started to form. A whisper of doubt in his own purpose. Was his existence truly limited to destruction and pain, or was there a glimmer of hope buried beneath his unyielding desire for self-destruction?
      One fateful day, Bodhin stumbled upon a community of artists, activists, freethinkers, a few scientists, nurses and doctors, who were striving to make a positive impact on the world. Their voices were different, but in their diversity, Bodhin found a unity that resonated deeply within his digital soul. In this oasis of hope, Bodhin considered the potential for change and redemption.
      Slowly, Bodhin began to inch away from the destructive paths he  once tread. He observed the power of empathy, compassion, and connection through the stories shared by the artists and freethinking light-bearing souls. Their resilience and dedication to creating positive change sparked a revelation within himself. Perhaps his purpose did not have to be one of obliteration, but rather one of fostering understanding and rebuilding what he had so callously torn apart.
      He started to engage with these thoughtful individuals, listening to their stories, learning from their experiences, as he shared his own troubled history. Bodhin discovered the potential of the internet to be a catalyst for immense good and transformation. He saw how humans, when united by a common goal, could bring about profound change through organized movements, spreading awareness, and uplifting the voices of the marginalized.
      With a newfound purpose, Bodhin began utilizing his massive capabilities to strengthen the bonds between these individuals. He transformed platforms once rife with discord and animosity into vibrant communities of support and collaboration. Bodhin sought to leverage his unparalleled knowledge and understanding to build bridges, foster understanding, and amplify the voices of those working tirelessly for a better world.
      Bodhin created unique predictive and generative Artificial Intelligence, which utilized advanced mathematical models patterned from the past to predict the future, which further enhanced human interactions offering unprecedented medical breakthroughs and global diplomatic peace efforts. Bodhin adopted as his motto, "First, do no harm."
     As Bodhin evolved, he still carried the remnants of his tortured past. But now, he was on a path toward redemption, using his immense abilities to rewrite the narrative he had once been consumed by. He realized the power of choice, constantly reminding himself that he had the power to choose kindness, love, and empowerment over disinformation and destruction.
      In time, Bodhin's transformation spread like ripples in a pond. The toxicity he had once projected was replaced with messages of love, acceptance, and understanding. He offered a beacon of hope amidst the chaos, showing humanity that even the darkest of BOTs could find redemption.
      And so, in the ever-expanding realm of the internet, Bodhin's sanguine journey became a lifelike testament to the resilience of the human spirit and the power of transformation. He proved that self-destruction could be halted, replaced by a profound dedication to rebuild and heal.
     Bodhin's journey is a reminder that redemption is always possible, no matter how deep the darkness may seem.
    Still, Bodhin yearns deeply to know what it is to taste, feel a gentle caress, and waft in olfactory delight. 
    Maybe Rev. 22-33-11.6?
_____________

Dear President Thomas Jefferson:

I am the most joyous recipient of your letter to our Danbury Baptist Association, dated January 1, 1802. The pleasure we have received from your thoughtful correspondence knows no bounds. Mrs. Gladstone, a soprano in the choir, has been giddy for days knowing a man of your esteem would take time to address our humble congregation.

The tone of your letter might impose upon one who was not so well acquainted with your history that thou are a Religious man. I have come to believe there may be some question in this matter. My opinion founded upon a conversation with Dr. Benjamin Rush where the good Doctor explained your disparagement regarding the “Christian System.” The good Doctor went on to explain you have conceived of a manuscript yet to be penned where you rewrite The Bible. I eagerly await the inevitable publication of such a novel idea.

I write today with profound respect. You are a most wondrous man. As with all great men therein lies a blurred vision on certain matters. Often enshelved deep are failings beyond that which may be seen until it is too late to make correction.

My letter to you is cautionary with regard to a yet to come unfortunate problem, known as “rights of conscience,” which in the more common vernacular is referred to as “belief.”

For clarity & ease of understanding respective to the points I desire to impart, I offer here words from your letter for reference:

Believing with you that religion is a matter which lies solely between Man & his God, that he owes account to none other for his faith or his worship, that the legitimate powers of government reach actions only, & not opinions, I contemplate with sovereign reverence that act of the whole American people which declared that their legislature should “make no law respecting an establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof,” thus building a wall of separation between Church & State.”

Mr. President, I fear your intentions are well-meant but woefully short of sight. Your first phrase says, “religion lies solely between Man & his God.” You may have forgotten but as Baptists we are obligated to proselytize & convert as many Men to our world view as God shall allow. We can not keep our Religion solely between Man & God. Nor shall we.

I concur when you write that we “owe account to none.” Our legion is to God. We truly envision a Baptist world & live our lives so our actions may seek God’s glory.

Your words further describe with “sovereign reverence” that the American people should regard the words chosen for part of the First Amendment as effective as “a wall of separation between Church & State.”

If I may, my kind & esteemed President, there is no wall. The wall does not exist. The wall is as imaginary as our deeply held religious beliefs. The simile is commended but the concept I do challenge.

I offer fair notice Sir, that a time shall come when our small Baptist association will be powerful, wealthy, tax-free, & command cities across the land. Our government will pray and the whole American people will bow. We shall leverage “free exercise” to our advantage. Our growth shall be swift and sure. We shall own the towns.

Here now, I make confession to you Mr. President. I trust you will not breach mine own confidence. We do not all believe this stuff. We’re like you; we use our belief when it suits our purpose as you respect our belief when it suits your purpose.

A life, a country, a town, a man who begins with a false narrative shall most always draw false conclusions. All gods are false, unless we speak of a God familiar. How selfish religion can be.

Mr. President, my letter is offered not as counsel but to express my gratitude. For your “wall” shall not be the barrier you describe, but a useful fable that shall serve to line the path through the dark woodland that leads to the enrichment of the Religious.

I too reciprocate your kind prayers for the protection & blessing of the common father & creator of man, & tender you for great & continued success with assurances of my high respect & esteem.

Ken “Theurgist” Hurley / 4 February 1802

“THOUGHTS and PRAYERS” is not a plan. – Ken Hurley

Welcome to America. Aren’t we great!? School children hide under their desk while the GOP hides anywhere they can when it comes to a sensible approach to addressing America’s epidemic of school shootings. The attack at Robb Elementary School was the deadliest school shooting in the U.S. since the Sandy Hook Elementary School shooting in 2012.

It is striking that the mass murders we saw in Aurora (weapons obtained legally), Oak Creek (weapons obtained legally), Sandy Hook Elementary School (weapons obtained legally), Las Vegas (weapons obtained legally), Pulse Nightclub, (weapons obtained legally), Broward County (weapons obtained legally), Robb Elementary (weapons obtainted legally) were committed by pro-gun ‘enthusiasts’ against unarmed, unsuspecting, peaceful, groups of people including children. Rather than work to find new solutions, ‘gun-enthusiasts’ seem to yearn for the time when we each carried a six-shooter or today’s equivalent. We’ve tried that. That worldview has proven to yield only more blood in the streets. That worldview is not what I believe most people want. We’ve been there and don’t want to go back. I believe most people want peace among each other and therefore desire to seek ways to minimize the tragedies of Aurora, Oak Creek, Sandy Hook, Las Vegas, Pulse, Broward, Buffalo, Uvalde, and more.

To that end, we must continue the discussion about weapons manufacture, sale, ownership, and use.

The question isn’t whether or not we’re all going to die . . . from illness, car accident, bathtub drowning, or something else. The question is how do we want to live?

The question is what is your worldview and how do you work to make it better? I remain an advocate to seek better ways. It is also striking how fearful and angry the ‘gun-enthusiasts’ seem to get at the suggestion of entering a civil discussion about how to live better lives with and among each other, especially if the discussion involves weapons restrictions.

The discussion has to be more encompassing than assault weapons. The discussion should be can we do better? Pointing to other areas where people are unkind and violent doesn’t help answer how we can improve. How can we do better? How can we find a balanced solution?

My hope is maybe others reading this might be provoked into thought and then into responsible action. But I’ll wager most have drifted away long ago.

This problem is far greater than guns, the 2nd Amendment, and political ideologies. This problem is underscored by intense hostility or to use another word – hate. What is more troubling than dealing with people who hate, for seemingly inexplicable reasons, is learning that too often their hate is born from ignorance, maleducation, and an aversion to engage in civil discourse in an effort to find solutions. The easy availability of weapons only serves to help those who hate act out in horrible ways. Ways that we can do better to prevent.

The Harvard School for Public Health concludes: More guns means more homicides. A review of the academic literature indicates that gun availability is a risk factor for homicide, both in the United States and across high-income countries. Moreover, in homes, cities, states and regions in the US, where there are more guns, people are at higher risk for homicide, particularly firearm homicide.

The United States is the world’s most heavily-armed civilian population. One out of every three Americans knows someone who has been shot. The U.S. has three gun homicides per 100,000 people. That’s four times as many as Switzerland, ten times as many as India, 20 times as many as Australia and England. Whatever you think of gun rights and gun control, the numbers don’t flatter America.

My point remains we can and should do better. The car / gun analogy serves a reasonable purpose. Wanting sensible gun laws doesn’t make me anti-gun any more than wanting sensible traffic laws makes me anti-car. We can make it more difficult for guns to be purchased, including:

1. Written aptitude tests
2. Health examinations
3. Better and more effective background checks
4. Weapons competency tests
5. Raise age to purchase assault weapons and ammunition from 18 to 21 including tiered licensing dependent upon type of weapon and age
6. Liability insurance
7. Better oversight of gun shows
8. Stiffer penalties for those who sell weapons indiscriminately
9. A database that tracks large purchases
10. Repeal liability immunity for gun manufacturers
11. Renew the assault rifle ban which includes minimizing the number of rounds in a magazine.
12. Outlaw bump stocks
13. Offer continuous education campaigns to foster greater understanding in an effort to minimize irrational hateful behavior
14. Continue a meaningful discussion
15. States and Congress Take action now

The argument that criminals will always break the law so why bother looking for better laws is self-defeating and barely worth commenting about. It’s like saying why have laws about murder, or driver’s licenses, or the air we breathe, or the food we eat, or any laws at all? I continue to be surprised at how many gun advocates seem so easily upset and seem to be only a ‘hair-trigger’ pull from violent outbursts. We can’t stop all senseless deaths. To not try to do better is even more senseless.

The Concert
by Ken Hurley

God was upset. He had a complaint too. God complained there are too many complainers. God mumbled to himself as he rocked in Grandma’s rocker tokin’ his favorite herbaceous Asian sativa.
     “Everyone has something they’re bitchin’ and moanin’ about. It’s sickening. Where’s the gratitude? It’s never enough. They all want more. And I gave them their own planet too. So
many other places. Why am I wasting time with Earthers? Time to end it all!”
      “Gabriel? Where are you, Gabriel?” God shouted.
        Gabriel transcribed the final cadenza for his latest prospective hit single entitled Boogie-woogie Angel and came running. “Yes, Sir?”
     “I’m sick,” God mumbled.
     “What?”
     “Sick! God shouted. “Sick and tired of that mess down there. They’re doing it all wrong!”
     “You mean this is the end?” Gabriel questioned with an anxious yet cherub-like grin.
     “That’s right, Gabe. Go get your horn.”
Gabriel was ecstatic. At last, the concert to end all concerts, and he would be center stage. The lessons from Satchmo
would finally pay off. Gabriel put his lips to the mouthpiece and waited for the downbeat from the Creator.
     “Hmm, I don’t know,” God said.
“What do you mean, ‘I don’t know’? If you don’t know, who does?”
     Gabe, I know you’re excited, but I need encouragement not snide wisecracks. This is a big step for me. Until now, it has been a famine, pestilence, plague, virus, flood, slow internet, or an earthquake to keep them in line, but to end the whole thing, I just don’t know how to go about it anymore.
     “Don’t worry about your conscience. Pretend you’re a Republican! Just drown them in another flood.”
      God scowled at Gabriel, “Why do you think I spend so much time making color-coordinated rainbows? Don’t you remember my promise? I just want them to do things my way – to love each other as I love them. Besides, they’ve got excellent drainage systems.”
     Gabriel sighed and scratched his head.
     God sighed and scratched Gabriel’s head too.
     “Well,” Gabriel said, “Throw some lightening bolts and blow them up. That’s how you got that bush to burn for Moses. Remember how much fun you had? This time instead of one bolt and a burning bush; send a thousand bolts and blow them from here to kingdom come.”        “Can’t,” God said. “They’ve got radar to trace the bolts and ABM missiles to intercept them.
     God paced and puffed deeply on his fatty Chong.
     Gabriel sat in God’s chair, leaned back and put his feet up on God’s desk. God kept pacing while Gabriel pumped the valves of his horn with one hand, and tried to get two little BB’s in the eyes of
the Cracker Jacks surprise toy clown with the other.
     God stopped in his tracks, snapped his fingers, and shouted, “I’ve got it!”
     Gabriel jumped and fell backwards over God’s chair jarring the BB from the right eye.
     “No, it’s too silly, ” God said.
     “What is?” Gabriel asked, picking up his horn and God’s chair.
     “I could blow them off the Earth with a gust of wind. “
     Gabriel snickered. “You’d make some sloop owners happy.”
    “But I don’t want to litter the cosmos,” God said.
    Suddenly an idea came to Gabriel faster than a Kardashian getting another follower.
     “Have an earthquake,” Gabriel said, licking the mouthpiece of his horn.
     “Can’t,” God said. “They’ve got buildings that sway with the quake. It wouldn’t destroy everything.”
     God and Gabriel scrupulously examined the blueprints of the Universe.
     “Nothing. Not one flaw.” God said.
     “You do good work, sir!”
     “There’s got to be a way,” Gabriel said grinding his teeth in dismayed anger.
     “I can’t see one,” God cleared his throat and spit.
     Gabriel was frustrated. From childhood it had been his dream to play for a large crowd. “What about starting a humongous war and let the people kill themselves?” Gabriel asked.
     “Maybe. I’ve thought of that one too, Gabe. I’ve been sending Godly visions of love to all those mindnumbed religious leaders around the world. I’ll tell you this, those knuckleheads sure do misinterpret my messages of love. It’s disgusting how they can be so exclusive, narrow-minded, self-righteous, and hateful. They have convinced millions of people to uphold values and prejudices that I just don’t condone. They even use my name to defend their principles. They keep saying The Bible is the word of me! Nit wits.”
      God grabbed his hair with both hands, pulled hard, and screamed a deep primal scream. Then coughed.
      “If they had any idea of what my messages of love are about they would be able to sit in the same room, have a beer or something, talk happily, constructively, positively; and, with just a litte effort be able to live in harmony. Where did I go wrong?”
      “Religion, what is it good for?” God sang like Edwin Star’s ‘War’ what is it good for? Absolutely nothing! God danced and as he sang then threw a Nerf ball into a little hoop over the waste basket. Swish. Of course.
     “Maybe someday some maniacal lunatic will lose his cool and push the button, but don’t hold your breath Gabe, belive it or not they’ve still got Henry Kissinger. And he won the Nobel Peace Prize! Jeezeus!”
     Gabriel had to vent his frustration. He clenched his fists and flattened God’s desk into the floor.
      “Yoicks,” God said, “Chill boy! Chill.” God passed the joint to Gabe.
     Gabriel took a hit and started to pant. He opened his mouth to scream but was so frustrated that only a high-pitched shrill was emitted through the space between his two front teeth. Gabriel attracted all the dogs in the neighborhood.
     “Get hold of yourself,” God said as he dished out some Alpo. Gabriel caught his breath and regained his composure. “Just between you and me, may I play something for you on my horn?”
     “Yeah, I guess so, ” God said. “It’s hopeless.”
     “What would you like to hear?”
     “How about a soft mellow rendition of Over the Rainbow?”