WRITING

 SCHLIEMAN
     Ken Hurley 

IN THE BEGINNING (or soon thereafter actually), Schlieman realized he didn't know much. He didn't even know that he didn't know much. After all, he was in charge. He was supposed to know about things and other stuff. He was the man with answers! Schlieman knew just enough, though. Just enough to fool those who knew less than he. Schlieman taught himself to be the world's greatest con artist ever seen. But Schlieman didn't know it.
      People would crowd his door asking for answers. Sometimes Schlieman would bellow, "Pronk! You are all pronks!" And the crowd would "Ahh" in satisfied amazement.
      Other times Schlieman would whisper, "It depends on the moon..." And the people would look at each other and shrug with a quizzical sense that Schlieman knew about things and other stuff.
      One day Schlieman began to feel a queasy uneasy sense that he was a fake, a fraud, and a phoney. All three! He was perplexed. He no longer felt he could continue his charade. He felt dishonest.
      Disappointed with himself, Schlieman decided to tell the people that he didn't really know much about things and other stuff. That he was making it all up and wanted to make amends.
      One day (a different 'one day') Schlieman summoned all the people to his door. They came from miles around to hear what Schlieman the Great Knower of Things and Other Stuff had to say.
      Schlieman first began to recount some of the more untenable things he said about things and other stuff, in an effort to set the record straight.
      "Remember the time I told you the Sun would burn and SPF 15 was good enough. Not true. Flannel! Always wear flannel shirts when working under the Sun."
       "And the time I said, Mrs. Clockster's husband, Mr. Clockster, would one day join a chess club. I was mistaken. I meant he would place third in a lobster eating contest!"
      "And the time I predicted the day the world would end and only the good people would float away and land on Cloud Nine and live in peace and harmony with each other after they're dead. Ha! Even I can't believe I said that."
      "I was mistaken when I said you can be raised from the dead seven times. Not true. Only once and only on Thursdays!"
      "Thou shalt not judge unless you are a judge, in my judgment . . . still needs more thought."
      "Walk, don't run, when near a pool is wrong. Leap! Always leap. Because leaping leads to faith! Leap everywhere. The more you leap the more you will believe the unbelievable. So leap!"
      But before Schlieman could bring himself to a full public confession a great idea rattled his skull. What if he confessed that his "knowledge" wasn't his. That he wasn't the source of knowing about things and other stuff. Suppose he was just the deliverer of the words he spoke but not the creator of the words.
     It was at this moment Schlieman thought himself to be a real genius! He would declare himself the Spokesperson for the Creator of Things and Other Stuff. The people couldn't blame him for factual missteps. No, not him. He was merely the spokesperson for things and other stuff. Yet, he would still be the one people would come to for answers about all things and other stuff.
      Schlieman knew he had a winner of an idea that would ensure his greatness throughout the land. People would forever chant, "Schlieman! Schlieman! Schlieman!"
      Schlieman's smirky grin of sly dominance would never leave his face.
      For it was on this day God was created.
###
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SLOW TIME
Ken Hurley

I asked “Do you know what time it is?” Man looked at his watch and said, “3:36.” Two minutes later I asked the same man, “Do you know what time it is?” Man looked at his watch again and said, “3:38.” - personal observation 

You're supposed to enjoy every sandwich.  - Warren Zevon

ONE OF MY LIFE GOALS  has always been to have more time. More time to enjoy what being alive offers. At a young age I realized that for me to want more time as a goal, there must be conditions. Certainly, I do not want to spend any time in the slammer. Too late for that pipedream. One day I may share my experiences hitchhiking around America when I was 17 and my brief time in the pokey.
      So, I revised my goal to want more quality time. Today, I realize if I cannot get a time extension on my life, say another healthy three hundred years or so, then my goal is to figure out a way for the allotted time I have to move more slowly in an enjoyable way. I understand that the passage of time is relative. If you have ever spent time with certain relatives, then maybe you've discovered how to slow time. But, is it enjoyable?
      We humans are bound by the unchangeable trajectory of time. Are there any strategies we can employ to perceive time differently allowing us to appreciate each rapidly passing moment in a way that makes the good moments last longer? 
     So I followed a powerful suggestion by eating “... one of those squat, plump little cakes called ‘petites madeleines,’ which look as though they had been molded in the fluted valve of a scallop shell.” As Marcel Proust describes them, and made them forever popular in his epic work, In Search of Lost Time, aka Remembrance of Things Past. My memories were jogged just by entering the bakery of my childhood.
      The madeleine biscuit is a bit larger than a walnut yet soft and spongy, with a quality and potential to stir powerful memories of things past. I had my first madeleine biscuit as a child, brought home by my mom from Hofstetter's Bakery.  You may have memories that rise from a bakery too. Maybe, a proper seven-layer cake? My mother, who I am certain had no knowledge of Proust, unwittingly created memories for me that I now realize help slow time.
      Living within the reality of memories (distorted or other) evoked through the senses by the humble tea-soaked madeleine (mom's preference Orange Pekoe) helps time move more slowly. So, later in life, I bought a box of madeleine biscuits each week for a month and journeyed through fond memories triggered by relishing a madeleine biscuit immersed in Orange Pekoe. This sort of deep mental and emotional involvement in sensations and memories seems to allow for an expansion of time. As it turns out, good memories can encourage a profound appreciation for the present moment. After a while though, the delight of the madeleine biscuit turned into a displeasurable belly ache. So I tried Melba Toast. But I couldn't find any fond memories to help me slow time.
      There is a phenomenon known as the "flow state," introduced by psychologist Mihaly Csikszentmihalyi. (Please repeat his name out loud.) When individuals are fully engaged in an activity that challenges their skills and immerses their attention, they enter a state of flow where they lose track of time. This happens to me when I sit at a piano to compose or play. Or when I hike, write lyrics, poems, or short stories, or doodle. Or when I write what you're reading now. You're likely wondering will this drivel ever end? See, time can move slowly! Anyway, I can get fully absorbed in a focused flow that seems to slow time. Or at least, make me unaware of how fast time truly is.
      The flow state is mindfulness which cultivates awareness of the present moment, discouraging preoccupation with past or future events. I'm told mindlessness does the same. Ignorance is bliss sort of thing. The focused flow state is different from the madeleine biscuits scenario. Self-awareness can anchor one's attention to the present, foster a deeper connection with lived experiences, which seems to me expands the perceived duration of time. 
      Cultivating mindfulness through practices such as meditation or mindful breathing can ground us in the present and enhance our awareness of time passing. By consciously noticing the finer details of our surroundings and sensations, we can engage more effectively with the present moment, leading to a more fulfilling experience of time. A good trick to slow time happens when you sit quietly with no external distractions and become aware of your breathing, heartbeats, and gentle thoughts. Sit with them for a while each day. Time enjoyably slows.
      Our perception of time is not solely governed by objective measurements such as a clock or stopwatch. After all, time is merely a human measurement of distance. Our perception of time is shaped by various cognitive and physiological factors.
      One factor is the "oddball effect." Looking at you, Schwammy! (It's actually a compliment.) The “oddball effect” explains how our perception of time can be distorted by unexpected or novel stimuli. We seek ways to break the mundane monotonous patterns of life. The introduction of an unexpected element, the "oddball," momentarily disrupts life’s predictable patterns, which helps create the illusion of time slowing down. A baseball pitcher and batter understood this well until MLB introduced the pitching time clock in 2023 to help speed the pitcher/batter interchange.
      Another phenomenon linked to physics and the psychological experience of time is called "time dilation." In situations of extreme danger or heightened emotions, individuals often recall the event as if it were occurring in slow motion, suggesting that this apparent alteration in time perception arises from an increased activation of the amygdala and other related brain mush, which allows for more detailed and vivid memories.
      One example from my real life is when I drove a taxicab as a part-time job in college. It was midnight and I had just dropped off my passengers at their motel. I was only one minute onto the desolate service road when I saw a car speeding toward me. I was hit head on by a drunk driver doing over 60 mph in a 25 mph zone. As our headlights got closer, just before they smashed, the dark night blindingly brightened until the boom of the crash caused everything to go dark again. My cab was spun around and was pushed 80 feet before it was stopped by a telephone pole. The dashboard collapsed onto my legs as my head crushed through the windshield. No seatbelt. Fortunately, a hard head. I remember my first words were not eloquent, “Oh, shit.” I couldn't open the door but the window was down so I climbed through the window. First thing I noticed, I could stand. That was a relief. Second thing I noticed was that it seemed like it was raining. But I could see stars. Actual stars in the sky! No clouds. I was confused. Next thing I noticed was that my cab was a mangled wreck. It took me a moment to locate the car that hit me. I found it but I couldn't see anyone inside. I couldn't open the doors. As I struggled to figure out what to do, other people arrived. One man came to me in an anxious state yelling, “I saw the whole thing. He ran a stop sign! Mister, are you ok?”  We stood face to face. I asked him, “Is it raining?” He said, “Mister,  that's your blood running down your face. You better sit down. You might faint.” Well, I didn't sit down. I didn't faint. The bright  headlights and “rainy” blood are vivid examples of psychological “time dilation.”
     The desire to slow down time is not mine alone. Which is why science explores the biological mechanisms that influence our perception of time. Our internal biological clock, known as the circadian rhythm, regulates our sleep-wake cycle and influences our perception of time. Disruptions to our circadian rhythm, such as jet lag, a newborn baby in the house, or unpredictable shift work, can distort our perception of time, making us feel that time has either accelerated or decelerated.
      Our perception of time is also influenced by how good we feel as determined by the level of dopamine in our brains. I don't want to waste time explaining that dopamine is a neurotransmitter associated with pleasure and reward, which plays a an important part in our perception of time. When dopamine levels are elevated, time seems to pass more quickly, while lower dopamine levels result in a slower perception of time. Turns out that I put the dope in dopamine. If I better understood the intricate relationship between dopamine and time perception, it might help me develop appropriate strategies to slow down time.
       The old adage, “Time flies when you're having fun," seems true. Although, perhaps, time moves at just the right pace. 
     Next time you find yourself needing to kill some time, give me a call. Perhaps, we can spend some time wisely trying to figure out how to slow time enjoyably.
###


¡Cierra la boca! Silêncio, por favor.
  Ken Hurley

I had the right to remain silent... but I didn't have the ability.  – Ron White

THE WORD "QUEUE "is just "Q" followed by silent letters. Often the purpose of a silent letter is to change the sound of another letter. For example, the 'e' in hate is as silent as the quiet of the Rose Reading Room inside the New York Public Library, which is a favorite phrontistery of mine, where you'll find Run Silent, Run Deep; Silent Spring; Q; and all the silent letters too. 
     The problem with silence is that it is rare, elusive, coveted by this writer, yet deeply misunderstood.
     The maddening effect of noise pollution creates a profound desire for silence. Included in a litany of clamors, contraptions, and places are: leaf blowers, lawn mowers, train horns, traffic, construction sites, airplanes, and loud restaurants whose music blares with enough shattering reverberation to cause the deaf to cover their ears to regain their equilibrium.
      If only the leaf blowing people and the lawn mowing people would coordinate an hour each weekend to thrust their unpleasant clattering noise machines upon us, I would be grateful. But no. Because, you know, Freedom! Like William Wallace in Braveheart, whose final cry rings loudly through the public square before he is beheaded: "Freedom!" Except the only battle the eruptive grass cutters fight is the length of each blade.
       Silence is to be cherished. I have been championing the undervalued and underappreciated commodity of "peace and quiet" for decades. The constant exposure to excessive noise levels has detrimental effects on human health, well-being, and overall quality of life. Yet too many people remain oblivious.
       There are physical, psychological, and social consequences of noise pollution, none of which is good, each of which highlights the urgent need for effective measures to combat the pervasive high decibel problem, which can drive people to the loony farm where even the hay needs a good mowing. 
      Prolonged exposure to high noise levels can result in hearing loss, tinnitus, and other auditory disorders. For instance, individuals living near airports, train tracks, busy highways, or even loudmouth neighbors, often suffer from chronic sleep disturbances, which can lead to fatigue, decreased cognitive function, and increased risk of accidents. Moreover, noise pollution has been linked to cardiovascular problems such as hypertension, heart disease, and increased stress levels. The constant bombardment of noise triggers the release of stress hormones, which may lead to elevated blood pressure and an increased risk of heart attacks.
      The psychological impact of noise pollution is equally distressing. Continuous exposure to noise disrupts concentration, impairs memory, and hampers learning abilities. For example, students studying in noisy environments experience reduced academic performance and increased stress levels. Additionally, noise pollution has been associated with heightened irritability, anxiety, and depression. The inability to find respite from constant noise can lead to a sense of helplessness and frustration, negatively impacting mental well-being.
      Noise pollution not only affects individuals, but also has far-reaching social consequences. Excessive noise disrupts communication, leading to strained relationships and decreased social interaction. For instance, in densely populated urban areas, noise pollution can hinder conversations, making it difficult for individuals to connect and form meaningful relationships. Moreover, excessive noise levels in public spaces, such as parks or restaurants, can deter people from engaging in leisure activities, leading to a decline in community cohesion.
      There are even sonic and ultrasonic weapons that use sound to injure or incapacitate people.
      There are stentorian “activists,” both liberal and conservative, who try to outshout each other (figuratively and literally) but have yet to learn when it's time to "cierra la boca," as my high school Spanish teacher delighted in saying to me each time I protested my assigned Spanish classroom name, Jorge. These megaphone mouths on opposite ends of the political spectrum have been taught to speak up, speak out, speak often. Yet they have not learned discretion. They prattle on as if they emote persuasive significance. Despite strongly held differing beliefs, they each deserve credit for registering more of the opposition to vote than one might imagine. They try to listen to each other but can't abide inept, grating, tumultuous communication. They decide, if that's a liberal, how do I vote against her? If that's a conservative, how do I vote against him? 
      This reminds me of a story about a tiger and a donkey. The donkey told the tiger, "The sky is green." The tiger said, "No, donkey, the sky is blue." They argued until the tiger suggested they ask the King Lion to settle their dispute. The King Lion said, "Yes, donkey, the sky is green." And the donkey smiled and trotted off happily. The tiger asked the King Lion, "Why? Why did you tell the donkey the sky is green? We both know the sky is blue!" The King Lion said that is correct. But you will be punished with thirty days of silence for bringing me such a trivial matter. Maybe with some introspection you'll learn the value of not arguing with donkeys over such nonsense.
      People are uncomfortable with silence, as evidenced by the number of people walking around with earbuds dangling from their lobes listening to anything but the natural ambient sounds nearby. Silence means they would be left alone with their own thoughts. Looks like too many people disfavor contemplation of their own free thoughts.
      Silence can be defined as the absence of sound or noise, but it extends beyond the mere absence of auditory stimulation. It is a state of stillness, a pause in the chaos of life. Silence can be both external and internal, encompassing the absence of external noise as well as the quieting of our own thoughts and emotions. It is a powerful tool that allows us reflection, introspection, and solace in the midst of a thundering world.
      When we experience silence, we are able to focus and become more present in the moment. It is a form of mindfulness that allows us to become more aware of our thoughts and feelings.
     There are times when silence is extremely beneficial. For example, during meditation, silence is essential to achieving an internal state of peace and calm. In these moments of quiet contemplation, we are able to reflect on our lives, reinvigorate our psyche, and gain new perspectives on life's issues. Without silence, the distractions of our noisy world make it difficult to achieve these benefits.
      Silence can also be beneficial in our personal relationships. In difficult situations, it can be helpful to stay quiet and listen, rather than constantly talking and reacting. Jumble "silent" and get "listen." This can lead to better communication and understanding, as well as the resolution of conflicts. When two people are able to sit in silence together, it can be a powerful bonding experience that strengthens their connection. A good friendship is when silence is comfortable. 
      In some cases, silence is also beneficial in the workplace. A quiet work environment can help people focus on their tasks and be more productive. This is particularly true for jobs that require a lot of concentration, such as writing, coding, or research. When there is minimal noise or distractions, people can get into a flow state and perform at their best. Ever watch someone with music blasting through earbuds try to accomplish any task? Takes them much longer. They aren't even aware they can't focus. They have not learned the value of silence relative to the need of determined focus. 
      In some situations, people may use silence as a way to avoid difficult conversations or confrontations. This kind of silence can be damaging to relationships and prevent people from resolving conflicts or problems. Being ignored or ghosted are detrimental forms of silence. They can lead to misunderstandings and hurt feelings, and ultimately damage the trust between individuals.
      Silence can also be a hindrance in situations where communication is key. For example, in emergency situations, silence can be deadly. If someone is in distress and unable to speak, it is important for others to recognize the silence as a sign of trouble and provide assistance. Sometimes we need to shout fire in a crowded theater, but only when there is an actual fire. 
      Too much silence can lead to misunderstandings and misinterpretations. "It's quiet here. Yeah, it's too quiet." A line from a John Wayne western. When people are hesitant to speak up or share their ideas, it can stifle creativity and prevent innovation.
      In some cases, silence can also be a form of oppression or control. When people are silenced through censorship or intimidation, their rights and freedoms are violated. This is particularly true in authoritarian regimes or oppressive societies, where individuals are not allowed to speak out against the government or powerful elites. When silence is used as a tool of oppression, it is essential for people to resist and demand their right to speak and be heard.
      Throughout history, there have been many examples of the power of silence. Mahatma Gandhi famously used silence as a form of protest during hunger strikes while refusing to speak in his effort to bring attention to injustices. 
      Similarly, The Silent Protest Parade of 1917 in New York City thrust the issues of segregation and lynching into the national spotlight when 10,000 African Americans silently marched down Fifth Avenue.
     Moreover, silence fosters creativity and innovation. When we silence the external noise and internal chatter, our minds become more receptive to new ideas and perspectives. Many great artists, writers, and thinkers have found inspiration in moments of silence, allowing their creativity to flourish.
      In literature and film, silence has been used as a powerful tool to convey emotion and meaning. In the movie The Shawshank Redemption (1994), the character Brooks is released from prison after serving thirty years and finds himself struggling to cope with the outside world. He becomes overwhelmed and desperate. He ultimately takes his own life. In his final moments, he leaves a note that simply reads, "Brooks was here." The silent message conveys the deep sense of hopelessness and despair that Brooks felt, and is more powerful than any spoken words could have been.
      In the novel The Heart is a Lonely Hunter by Carson McCullers, the deaf-mute character, John Singer, (perfect last name for a deaf mute) is unable to communicate his innermost thoughts and feelings with those around him. His silence is a reflection of the isolation that he feels and the difficulties he faces in relating to the world. 
      Then there's the film, A Quiet Place (2018), where the mean post-apocalyptic extraterrestrials have super-sensitive hearing, when if they hear you, they will hunt you. So, pipe down.
      Silence is a complex and multifaceted concept that can be both beneficial and a hindrance. It is a powerful force that can bring about peace and tranquility when used effectively, but can also be a tool of oppression and control when used improperly. In personal relationships and the workplace, it is important to recognize when silence is beneficial and when it is harmful. Only through understanding the power of silence can we begin to use it to our advantage and achieve greater understanding and connection with those around us.
      The relentless exposure to noise pollution has sparked a deep yearning for silence among individuals seeking solace and tranquility. The desire for silence is evident in the growing popularity of silent retreats, meditation practices, and noise-cancelling technologies. These serve as coping mechanisms for individuals seeking respite from the cacophony of a noise-filled life. The quest for silence is not merely a personal preference, but a fundamental human need for restoration, reflection, and mental well-being.
     Included among the quietest natural places in America are the Great Sand Dune National Park in Colorado, Yellowstone in Wyoming, and Glacier National Park in Montana. I have been to all three. Walked atop glaciers. The pleasant ambient noises of nature are simultaneously relaxing and reinvigorating. Unless bush crickets are mating. One of nature's loudest trills. I hope we never see a time when no birds sing and spring is silent.
      One day I hope to sit inside an anechoic chamber to experience negative decibels. However, this is where tinnitus will likely be more ear-splitting than the squawky salvos hurled by liberals and conservatives from atop their social media soapboxes.
###
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Mastering others is strength. Mastering yourself is true power. - Lao Tzu

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

BodhinBOT 
    Ken Hurley 

HIS AMBITIONS 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?
###
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THE HUMANS, Part 1
 Ken Hurley 

IF YOU CAN READ you are probably a human. F u cn rd ths, yr stll prbly hmn. 
      Polysemous as a definition for 'human' can be, for our purpose let's agree when we refer to a human or humans we refer to specimens of the biological species Homo sapiens, who straightened their spine and walked away from the established hominin lineage about 150,000 years ago. We're still walking.
      Human life-form essentials include: Complex tool making, symbol use, language, coordinated socialized hunting and gathering, ability to jitterbug to rap, a distinct manner of smiling fulminations, and an occasional vegetarian haggis.
      Some humans offer another morphological feature in that humans tend to possess a high level of reasoned rationale. Other humans, after considering that last sentence, giggle.
      We had no choice whether or not we would be human. It's not as if we could exercise free will at a buffet where we could select to become an elephant, anteater, Dodo bird, platypus, or a Neanderthal. Given the other possibilities, being human is remarkably good fortune. (Perhaps I'm biased?)
      Because we are human it is likely you, as was I, had our introduction to God at an early age. It is also likely the nature of being human prompted an inquiry into what you were told by your elders. We tend to trust our elders. Yet, it is distinctly probable the validity of the stories told about God were questioned as you grew older.
      Demographic trends suggest it is increasingly apparent that the imaginative stories about an omniscient supernatural God have since been dismissed as inadequate by a growing significant percentage of the population. Especially by those who grew to embrace an irreligious view. 
      The act of being human is known collectively as humanity. From humanity comes humaneness. To be humane is to be kind and benevolent. Humans each have the potential to display genuine, heartfelt, loving kindness or behave like a monsterous, insane, raving maniac. We each have the potential to exercise intelligent judgment or feckless folly. Likely both more than once in a lifetime. Whether or not our good or bad behavior is a motivational choice, a causal determination neatly written in our genetic code, or something else, remains a matter for endless discussions. 
      Add 'ist' to human and we have humanist. A humanist prefers an approach to life based on reason and our shared humanity. Humanists recognize that moral values are founded upon human nature and human experience not the divine or supernatural. 
      A humanist embraces the goodness of human beings, emphasizes our collective human needs, and seeks rational methods to solve human problems. To this extent, whether we admit it or not, we are all humanists.
      The phenomenon known to us as a human and the associated psychological characteristics, feelings, and behavioral traits of humans, has commonality shared by all healthy humans known as human nature. 
      Given the variety of cultures around the world, and the disparate ideologies to which humans ascribe, is it possible that all healthy humans share traits found within human nature? Yes.
      One obvious example of a shared trait within human nature is our survival instinct. From birth, our survival instinct is strong. After we are born we typically cry, scream, and flail uncontrollably in an effort to have our needs met. The wails and flails of a newborn are the language and actions of survival. A baby has no chance of survival without the attentive care of an elder.
      Every day, several times a day, as the tiny bantling grows into a tiny toddler, the little bundle of joy poops and pees freely at will. Anywhere. Anytime. Hence, potty humor was born. 
      A toddlin' young poop machine makes a respectable illustrative analogy for describing human nature. Simply put, human nature is to poop in one's pants. Fortunately, human desire, our ability to learn, recognize self-realization, and improve our human condition is also human nature.
     There comes a moment when the young poop factory, at the urging of their elders, realizes pooping in their pants (diaper, on the floor) is messy, unpleasant, and not in the child's best interests. We all know bad things happen when we lose our shit. So, acting on behalf of their own self-interest children practice how not to poop in their pants. Then one glorious day amongst applause and cheers, their practice is rewarded by success. 
     So it is with human nature. Metaphorically, (sometimes literally) we still wail and flail through our trials and errors as we develop from the toddlin' poop factory into the old-age poop factory. Somewhere along that path we gain enough self-interest, self-respect, and self-control, to be useful to ourselves and others. But, we need practice. A human's self-interest is served even when the best altruistic tendencies are displayed. 
       Let's remember, poop was around long before the esteemed philosophers Socrates, Plato, and Aristotle waxed wise about ethics, human nature, free will, determinism, and the quest for eudaimonia, otherwise known as happiness. 
     Little is known about Plato's friendly game of Pettia held weekly in the andrōn of his house where he invited his philosopher buddies and neighbors to play. 
      One of his neighbors, Shecky Karpouzis, did not say much as he listened intently to the gabfest the esteemed learned philosophers enjoyed. From time to time Shecky would overcome his muted shyness and demonstrate his quiet free will by politely offering his critique of the philosophers sapient musings by murmuring, "We're all full of shit. That's why we poop daily."
      Just like civil rights come from civil wrongs; pooping in one's pants (as yucky as it may be) seems an apt and reasonable analogy toward describing human nature from the beginning through the end.
###

THE HUMANS, Part 2
     Ken Hurley

“There is nothing either good or bad, but thinking makes it so.”  Says Shakespeare's Hamlet in Act II, Scene 2, as he considers his imprisonment by Denmark, the King, and his mind.

TO BE OR NOT TO BE is often thought of as a simple choice when the brain processes variables it considers as possible outcomes for a good or bad decision. To be or not to be (whatever, fill in the blank) is often complicated too.
     The brain is the only organ that named itself after years of collective human wrangling over what we should call the gray mush behind the forehead. The healthy human brain is a complex system capable of many conscious, subconscious, and automatic processes at the same time. Different motivations from various sources can create  amazing abilities within the brain where the complexities of the mind can lead to glorious critical thinking, confusing conundrums of self-doubt, the mundane, the extraordinary, or all.
    To survive, human physiological needs include nutritional food, clean water, clean air at a particular range of pressure, shelter that offers protection from extreme climate, sanitation, touch, especially caring caresses during early development,  adequate sleep, and personal space. Each is their own motivation. 
      To thrive, humans are compelled to first satisfy physiological needs in order to pursue a greater sense of intrinsic fulfillment. We tend to thrive when we are in a community, feel like there are people who understand us, believe in us, and support our views and actions. 
     The need to believe in something and belong to something is found within most humans including skeptics, the religious, artists, scientists, anarchists, nihilists, the hobos and the hermits. Each is motivated to seek their tribe* which provides a modicum of comfort and contentment knowing there are other humans similarly situated. 
     Hermits, nihilists, anarchists seek tribes? Sure do. And, why not? The tribe either accepts the human, rejects the human, or the human rejects their tribe. What the human sought from the tribe may be deemed insufficient. A rejection can become motivational enough to form another tribe or become a lone wolf. It is possible to be genuinely satisfied with relatively little social interaction. The Hermit of Palm Springs, William Pester, understood.
      So it goes with humanists who also need to believe and belong. As I mentioned in the essay, The Humans Part 1, the ideology found within humanism appeals to many humans. To relate with others who demonstrate a positive influence and share a desire for interpersonal connections is a strong motivational attraction. 
      To lack a sense of belonging or not to have a tribe or a belief in something can lead to some devastating psychological mental health effects including: A prolonged funk, depression, anxiety, disassociation, and suicide. 
      Humans tend to examine ideologies (political, religious, scientific, philosophical, artistic) before accepting or rejecting a particular ideology. An ideology is enough motivation for a human to accept or reject it based on many factors that either resonate or do not. After an ideology no longer resonates and is rejected we tend to seek and explore another ideology or begin our own tribe with a new ideology based on previous experiences but with a variation on a theme. 
      Examples of the various ideologies that seem to be variations on a theme include the vast number of religions, political parties, scientific hypotheses, philosophies, artistry, and corporations. Each created by humans to satisfy physiological needs, intrinsic needs, or both.
      So why do "we need to be careful not to let our Humanism become an ideology," as David stated in his March 2023 Chit and Chat Talk Back essay. [See FCFS Freethinker Newsletter: https://mailchi.mp/35525e5592de/march2023-6069265]
       To warn of the dangers within and about ideologies runs the risk of the very criticism the warning contains. Be careful not to let your thoughts and actions be seen as an ideology because then you might be stifled from exploring other ideologies or other aspects of human development. A fair warning. 
      The root problem with allowing an ideology to become "sentimental and squishy" as David says, is that any particular ideology reinforces cognitive biases which in turn limit one's ability to think beyond the boundaries of the biases. There is little chance an ideology can be neutral. 
      Unexamined ideological group think and the associated cognitive biases found within may lead to what Søren Kierkegaard termed "the crowd" and Frederick Nietzsche called "the herd instinct," Sigmund Freud labeled "crowd psychology," Carl Jung termed "collective unconscious," and someone we never heard of labeled herd mentality "sheep."
      Herd behavior in humans may explain the spectacle of large segments of populations and smaller groups of people who act like and even mimic each other. We see the copycats in action in voting blocks, political parties, fandom, conspiracy theorists, sports, religiosity, clubs, niche cults, and even the irreligious. Moreover, the desire to be sociable individuals and the need to belong to a "like-minded" group of humans may lead to associations one may term a "society". 
      A good example of a lightning rod for cognitive biases found within disparate groups is the text of the Second Amendment to the United States Constitution. 

A well regulated Militia, being necessary to the security of a free State, the right of the people to keep and bear Arms, shall not be infringed. [Also see: Article 1, Sec 8, Clause 15 and 16 for more about the Militia.]

Accepting there are different versions of comma punctuation and capitalization, the groups in favor of improved governmental weapons management focus on the needs of a "well-regulated militia" to own weapons. While other groups who disfavor increased gun control focus on the unimpeded rights of people to be armed. Each point to the same Amendment to support their claim. When such a simple choice seems clear to each yet the opposition strongly disagrees is one small example why humans argue, debate, get angry with themselves and each other.
       Therefore, the struggle to embrace ideologies that are humanistically humane continues. Or should it? An apparent duality of resolution lies within many human decisions.
      Questions remain: What is the source of resonation that allows humans to believe and belong to a particular ideology that others may see as wretched and vile? Is it genetically coded? Pre-determined? Or is it a choice made through critical thinking and free will? What is happening psychologically when humans continue to believe ideological claims that are demonstrably and factually untrue and definitively debunked? What basis do we have to claim another human's worldview is "Wrong, wrong, wrong!" Or put another way, does it appear that our shared humanity is not enough to embrace global and local peace, harmony, and prosperity? Or is the desire to achieve global and local peace, harmony, and prosperity naive and another example of cognitive biases? Do you have a worldview? If so, why should your worldview prevail? Are ideologies inherently bad or can they be a motivational source for human examination, contemplation, resonance, acceptance or rejection, and therefore be seen as stepping stones through progress?
     Is what Hamlet said true? “There is nothing either good or bad, but thinking makes it so.”

* Tribe is derived from the Latin term tribus, the administrative divisions and voting units of ancient Rome. Today, tribe also refers to a social group made up of many families, clans, or generations that share the same language, customs, and beliefs.
###

__________________

THE INVOCATION 
     Ken Hurley

USHA KNEW THE COUNCIL heavily edited her second submission and completely rejected her first. But she persisted as she stood looking over the podium draped with an embroidery of a gold crucifix and an American flag.
      She gazed across the full house of disgruntled people from the community. Each waiting their turn to complain to Council about whatever was on their mind, including: Crumbled sidewalks, banned books, improper names of schools, statues in the park, proposed new parks, proposed new taxes, barking dogs, chickens in a backyard, who is woke, who is not woke, and who is "totally dope." The right for Council to pursue Christian values, the “tyranny” of mask mandates, the “sexualization of children," and who gets to use which restroom are always popular gripes. 
      A disheveled woman who looked like she was still in her pajamas was eager to thank the Council “for trying to bring our god-given freedom back.” A young man wanted to thank the Council for standing against the "evil, godless, liberal, forces of darkness." While a man on crutches wanted to read from Isaiah: “Be not dismayed, for I am your God … I will uphold you with my righteous hand." The citizenry were ready to grumble about any issue that can be squeezed into their allotted time of three minutes each. 
      As Usha looked at the crowd she nervously fumbled to switch the Council approved version of her submission with the version she really wanted to deliver. She slowly exhaled a deep breath and began mustering her best impression of a Sergeant at Arms as she bellowed, "All rise!" The audience and Council stood.
      "Please bow your heads." They bowed. She paused for effect while people inspected their shoes and Usha wondered if her request was grammatically only directed toward people with more than one head. Focus, she told herself. 
      "Just kidding." She admonished with a cherub grin. "You don't have to bow. But as long as you're standing, let's take this moment to be reminded that a typical invocation seems mostly grandstand theater masquerading as a pandering prayer for political constituents."
     Some people must have been listening. They raised eyebrows, looked around at each other, each with a quizzical look that screamed, "Huh?"
     Usha felt judgmental eyes upon her but continued, "Witness the oversized ego a listener must endure when a politician decides to become a self-appointed spokesperson for their god."
     The audience muttered softly as they shuffled in place. Members of Council scowled, crossed their arms and shook their heads as Usha pressed on, "The invocation of the name God seems to be at the whim and fancy of just about everyone. Everyone but Freethinkers!" Her oration was loud.
     "Those who claim to speak in the name of God often use their platform to spew their perceptions as a strategy to serve partisan, religious, political, or personal agendas. The invocation of God’s name has been cited as the source of justification for slavery, anti-Semitism, anti-LGBTQIA equality, genocide, jihad, caliphate, terrorism, racism, what a woman may or may not do with her body, and lots more."
      An older gray bearded man who did not remove his red MAGA baseball cap and sported a misspelled tattoo "Freedumb" across his throat, gnashed his upper tooth against his lower gum as his right burley-knuckled fist slowly began to punch his left palm. 
     "Should we presume that those who would call themselves God’s spokespersons believe that it was God who decreed eternal inequality for women? That it was God who mandated the inequities of slavery? That it was God who called for the execution of gays?" 
     The left palm of the "Freedumb" MAGA guy had enough, clenched into a fist, and began to pummel his right palm.
      "Supporters of divine law take their authority from their respective holy texts. Yet these same misguided supporters will often apologize for the horrible and deadly interpretations of the so-called 'holy texts' claiming they were misreadings of God’s true will." 
      The "Freedumb" MAGA guy was grunting as loud as a pig at a barbecue. He was now thumb-wrestling with himself as veins in his neck bulged while his face grew as red as his hat.
      Usha turned and looked directly at Council and spoke in a near whisper, "It is the humans. Not a human imagined god. The humans are to blame for the immoralities of slavery, anti-Semitism, genocide, racism, xenophobia, misogyny,  terrorism and other atrocities. However, humans must also be credited with the hundreds of morally elevating laws and good works."
      The crowd began to "shhhh" the "Freedumb" MAGA guy who was snorting guttural sounds and rolling on the floor as his left and right hands brutally fought each other.
      Usha scanned the crowd who's curled lips and hostile glares were a sign she wouldn't be asked out for a drink later.
      "Humans must continue to change laws and moralistic views so we each have a similar opportunity to enjoy life as we determine. Humans are responsible for a healthy, safe, prosperous, worldview that seeks growth, creativity, innovations, peace on earth, and a better more inclusive authentic community. Our responsibilities toward each other must not be obfuscated by narrow-minded partisan religious views."
     The "Freedumb" MAGA guy was flopping like a flounder on the floor as both fists began to clobber his large hairy belly that protruded below his sweat-stained Q-shirt.
     "In our diverse world where too many people claim to know (imaaagine, I should say) what god wants; and where there is no consensus about who or what is god, nor a methodology for discerning what god wants; nor any reliable reason to accept the malinformation proffered by the self-appointed spokespersons for god; god should not be so easily invoked as the source of our civil rights, our moral direction, the reasons natural weather events occur, or how Council must govern."
      A loud raspberry sound was heard throughout the room as the Council Leader plopped down in his oversized leather throne-like seat and swiveled his back toward Usha in disgust.
      She again looked directly at Council with the intensity of a rock climber searching for the next step, "It is the 21st century, yet we still smugly deny each other rights, benefits, privileges, and kill each other in the name of a god." She paused and spoke slowly. "You arrogant pablum-spewing prigs."
     The crowd gasped.
     "Maybe in the 22nd century, we’ll learn to love each other in the name of humanity. Let's begin tonight by asking Council members to reconsider their representative role for all people and rethink how to better serve the 'We' in 'We the People' of our community."
      Usha concluded with a hopeful tone as sirens wailed close by, "We can and should do better." 
      EMT's arrived and loaded the beat-up, bruised, and bloody "Freedumb" MAGA guy on a stretcher as the Council leader swiveled around in anger, banged his gavel, but missed the table and smashed his knee cap. 
      Usha left the room with a renewed yet sad but true enough realization in which people tend to believe whatever supports their worldview.
      Another EMT siren approached so the EMT's could care for the Council Leader who writhed in agony and repeatedly yelled, "Ow ow ow, god dammit! Jesus. God daaamnit!"
###

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MISTAKEN
      Ken Hurley

ERIS SHACKLEMAN WAS PICKED UP, cuffed, and thrown in the pokey on the first night of the Mistaken Identity Roundup (MIR). 
      According to Criminal Attorneys for the Defense (CAD), mistaken identity arrests occur more frequently than shots of tequila on Taco Tuesday. However, this was the first time a MIR was organized by the Chief of Authority to gain favor with the political Wonks of Woedom (WOW). The MIR gave the Chief the opportunity to look magnanimous as she offered her televised apology on behalf of Woedom City to the falsely accused upon their release.
      Eris was arrested on the night of MIR and charged with writing a Fantastic Fantasy novel without a valid poetic license. His license was revoked after he once tried to rhyme "orange" with "door flange."
      Eris had a string of bad luck which only got longer after he was mistakenly added to the In-Memoriam segment at the Actor Awards Show three times in three years. He once had his identity stolen, but after a week the thief begged Eris to take it back.
     Then there was the time Eris declared himself a "sovereign citizen" in an attempt to avoid prosecution after he was picked up at a bar fight over which came first, the Zeroth or the First Law of Thermodynamics. During the heat of the scuffle Eris ranted indecipherable anti-government slogans about gold, credit, and hidden malevolent government forces while he declared the three foot personal air space around him as sovereign and may not be breached. He shouted, "Any punch that lands on me is a violation of International and Biblical laws!" The drunken rascals pummeled Eris until he resembled a mashed sweet potato. The next day Eris was mistaken by the judge for an average Joe and released without questioning. 
     A Mistaken Belief Task Force was formed by Woedom City to scour the internet and other places where mindful and mindless thoughts are exchanged. The task of the Task Force was to evaluate questionable representations of topical and irrelevant understandings about the world and Woedom. Examples include: Did The Simpsons predict the Silicon Valley Bank failure? No. Is it true that 16 banks failed during the Trump Administration? Yes. Is a Piggy Bank named after a pig? No. Is it true that Albert Einstein said, "The world will not be destroyed by those who do evil, but by those who watch them." Yes. These and hundreds other dubious statements were researched, verified, and findings published each week by the Mistaken Belief Task Force.
     The Mistaken Belief Task Force advised Eris against holding the mistaken belief that the words opossum and possum are interchangeable. 
      The assertion that all infinities are not created equal remains a controversial issue for the Mistaken Belief Task Force who often seek the advice of subject matter experts whose struggles to reach a consensus on difficult subjects cause a loud belly grumble chorus of borborygmus. (Nod to the lexophiles.)
      As an individual, to be falsely accused of anything is at least troubling. However, it can be deadly  if one is wrongfully accused of a capital crime. Innocent defendants are still mistakenly convicted and sentenced to death with unfortunate regularity.
      The appeals process is one remedy for a travesty of justice. However, the Appellate Courts mostly focus on legal errors and not on factual determinations. It is unlikely the appeals process will catch all the mistaken verdicts. To sit on death row knowing you are innocent while awaiting the green mile walk is difficult for this writer to fully imagine how the mind would cope.
      As of March 2023, the Innocence Database maintained by the Death Penalty Information Center shows 191 exonerations of prisoners on death row in the United States since 1973.
      DNA analysis is vital to exonerating innocent people and affecting criminal justice reform. Years of data on DNA-related and other exonerations expose the persistent and systemic problems within our legal justice system. The fight to correct the systemic issues through strategic litigation, policy reform, and education continue. 
      The Innocence Project was founded in 1992 by Barry Scheck and Peter Neufeld to assist incarcerated people who could be proven innocent through DNA testing. 
      Make no mistake about it, false accusations, misinformation, disinformation, and wrongful convictions are among the worst examples of human behavior. We can and should do better.
      While Eris Shackleman is fictional, this partial list of exonerations is not:  Malcolm Alexander served 38 years, George Allen served 30 years, Cornelius Dupree served 31 years, Anthony Wright served 25 years, Joyce Ann Brown served 9 years, Rosa Jimenez served 17 years. John Huffington was convicted of murder in 1981, sentenced to death, and exonerated on January 13, 2023.
       Courts do not generally entertain claims of innocence after the defendant is dead. So it is difficult to know how many innocent people on death row were executed. Those who work on behalf of the wrongfully accused tend to use their time to help those still alive.
      I know a six year old girl who loves to say "Namaste" after yoga, but she adorably mispronounces it as, "No mistake."

LEARN MORE HERE:
https://innocenceproject.org/exonerations-data/
and HERE: https://www.law.northwestern.edu/legalclinic/wrongfulconvictions/womensproject/exonerations/
and HERE: https://www.pewresearch.org/fact-tank/2021/07/19/10-facts-about-the-death-penalty-in-the-u-s/
and HERE: https://deathpenaltyinfo.org/

###

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CRIMES AGAINST HUMANITY 
      Ken Hurley

MANAVATA is in her mid-20s, svelte, curious, astute, a vegan, and loves nature. Tall, a bit boney too. Her garb preferences are dupattā shawls and elephantine dresses that cloak her like they were designed by Coleman, sold at REI, and could cover a small bivouac. Her large, round, deep, dark eyes search for meaningful contact with an intense gaze that says, "I feel you." Her empathic expressiveness oozes from every pore like cheese sauce on a Coney Island hot dog.
      Manavata has a hyperactive mirror neuron system that needs constant stimulation. She beams her bright encouraging energy into everyone she meets, then crashes with exhaustion. She often appears to be happy, but most people she meets cause her distress and in the quiet moments of her solitude, tears. Her emotional seismometer swings with an amplitude that rivals Foucault's pendulum.
      Her favorite expression is, "That is a crime against humanity!" Said with the confidence of a home plate umpire with new specs. 
      Crimes against humanity are one of the gravest offenses against human dignity and rights. These crimes typically include the barbaric acts of genocide, ethnic cleansing, mass murder, torture, and enslavement. They are committed by individuals, groups, or governments against civilian populations with the intent to cause sweeping suffering and destruction. "Crimes against humanity" have likely been with us for as long as humanity. However, the phrase was not used until the Nuremberg trials, which were held after the Allied victory over Nazi Germany in 1945. The International Military Tribunal charged the Nazi leadership with committing a series of atrocities, including genocide against Jews, homosexuals, Romani people, and other minority groups. The tribunal established that these acts were not only illegal, but also represented a fundamental affront to human dignity and rights. The concept was that crimes against humanity constituted offenses against all of humanity, not just against individual victims.
      However, the concept of crimes against humanity is not limited to the atrocities committed during World War II. History is rife with examples of mass violence and aggression against civilian populations. An estimated 1.5 Armenians were slaughtered by the Ottoman Empire. The Communist Party of Kampuchea in Cambodia, known as the Khmer Rouge regime, brought us the killing fields, where over one million people were buried after mass killings by state sponsored genocide. The Rwandan genocide saw members of the Hutu ethnic group kill an estimated 800,000 Tutsis and other Hutus who were deemed not correct. Sadly, there are too many more examples of humans committing atrocities against other humans that are considered crimes against humanity. 
      Manavata has a strong moral outrage that she can not stifle. She thinks weapons manufacturers and arms dealers should be charged with crimes against humanity for making and distributing a variety of death tools that kill millions of humans. 
     She thinks the meat industry should also be charged with crimes against humanity for being a leading cause of destruction of the planet via cattle flatulence and cow burps which creates more potent greenhouse gasses than Manatava can stomach. But what about all the humans being born who create the need for the meat industry? Humans! They are the number one existential threat to our sustainable survival. Humans are a crime against humanity! But what to do about it? Contraception? Abortion? Stop fucking? Her head spins like a Lipinski scratch twirl.
      She also wonders why religions are not considered crimes against humanity. She can not think of a religion that supports itself without proclaiming at its core credo fantastical yet persuasive lies in an effort to solicit the needy, gullible, and their money. She sees religious  leaders offering fabricated artificial ingredients while praying for prey to feast upon so they may enrich themselves as they falsely proclaim "The Truth". That is a crime against humanity! 
    However, Manavata does love the notion of heaven where the mysteries of the cosmos hold their secrets. The birth of stars, the formation of galaxies, and the endless expanse of the universe. Heaven would be the ultimate observatory where she could explore the wonders of creation and its transcendent beauty where her senses are heightened and her mind is elevated. Her poetic nature imagines heaven as an inspirational place of creativity and enlightenment. Where the colors are more vivid, the fragrances more intoxicating, the harmonious sounds are more melodic and blend together in symphonic delight. A place where all the people put love first.
     But she wonders why the heaven proffered in The Bible isn’t considered a crime against humanity? Biblical heaven is where God keeps a house and where the believers of religious propaganda go after their last breath. It is a place promised to the "faithful" where there is no more pain or sorrow, and where the "righteous" will be reunited with their family forevermore.
     She thinks this is an excellent example of a religious core credo lie. When you tell someone there's a better place but you have to die to have a chance of getting in is a lie that only serves the liars. After you've taken the Stairway to Heaven, you find yourself Knockin' on Heaven's Door only to be judged, and more often than not, be ushered back on the Highway to Hell. What kind of place needs gates to keep you in? Once you're in, there's no way out. She wonders if perhaps we are already in heaven, but our careless taradiddling twaddle has made an unfortunate shambles of it.
      Manavata is glad she isn't an actual adjudicator of crimes against humanity. Just thinking about them is emotionally exhausting. Time to crash.
      
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Reflections and Projection:  Yappy Hew Near (2023)
      Ken Hurley

LOOKS LIKE THERE’S a lot of us wandering around our planet. The Human population is believed to have reached one billion people around the year 1800. Since then our population has increased exponentially to two billion or so in the 1930s, three billion during the 1960s, four billion or so in 1970s, five billion in 1980s. Six billion in the 1990s. We Humans passed seven billion in 2011! And on November 15, 2022, a birth in the Dominican Republic put our human population at eight billion people alive on Earth simultaneously! (8,000,000,000!) It took over two million years for us to reach one billion in population and just over another 200 years to pass eight billion. We are projected to add another billion in about 15 years.    
    Human population growth, industrialization, land development, overconsumption, combustion of fossil fuels, deforestation, overfishing, ocean acidification, destruction of wetlands, water wars, oil wars, wheat wars, culture wars, meat production, climate changes, have led us toward an amazingly unbelievable environmental degradation that makes one wonder, “How will we manage with eight billion people and more on the way?” 
     Right about this time each month I enjoy a sip of java with a loverly person who is one in a billion, my friend Miggy. We usually meet at the local Bean Counter where the persnickety barista dazzles the café patrons with his discerning gustational ability to taste the difference between the dark roasts Colombian and Arabica.
     Miggy is a sly, quick-witted, 80ish year old, St. Louis woman, who usually has a thin smile across her beautifully wrinkled face. Likely, due to her dimpled and dented stainless steel flask she carries filled with small batch bourbon she mixes with her double espresso. The perfect storm. Miggy gets jiggy. Never a hothead and rarely an idealist, Miggy is a fatuous, ingratiating, raconteur whose oozey gratitude makes her anaphoric rhetoric more joyful than palpable.
    Unfortunately, about fifteen years ago her husband of forever succumbed to his injuries in a crash on I-95 just south of Brunswick. Terrible news of a sudden and sad end to a beautiful relationship. 
      Our conversations range from the differences between a wiseguy and a wise man. A smart ass and a dumb ass. Wars, abortion, gun violence, hunger, homelessness, population growth, the plight of Afghan women, and the subversive religiosity of the three most recent justices. 
      Sometimes we get loud but mostly we’re quiet as we consider whether the Percale weave is preferable for an optimal thread count in cotton sheets (which are on sale now). Why is pizza made round, put into a square box, and eaten as a triangle? We wonder if there is a polite technical term for one who fails to show reciprocal gratitude? And, how religious leaders love to pontificate about the righteous path to heaven but can’t tell you how to get to Palatka. We enjoy our sips. 
      Every 12 months January rolls into our lives again. Named after the two-faced Roman god Janus. Perhaps one face sees the future and the other sees the past. Janus (Januarius in Latin) was also the god of doors, arches, gateways, and entrances. Miggy also knows how to make an entrance with style, grace, and a Groucho flare. 
      A new year offers new beginnings and the opportunity to reflect on what we have done and where we’re headed.
      One of my favorite questions is “What’s next?” 
      A simple question. The answers can be a challenge. Ayy, yeah. So many options. Reflections or projections?
     Both.
     Reflections offer the mind an opportunity to pause and consider the muddled disarray around us so we may interpret our experiences with an effort to create meaning for the stories we tell ourselves which become part of our learning process which in turn can inform our projections. In other words, our past informs our future. 
     The ability to make an informed decision can be overwhelming with so many choices in front of each of us. However, it’s the options that make life a delight.
     Miggy and I agree, it’s better to make any decision than no decision even though we know that not choosing is still a choice. The course can be altered should it turn out to be the wrong direction. Take care though, because a “wrong turn” can prove to be wonderfully serendipitous. 
     Miggy realizes she doesn’t have much healthy time left even though she doesn’t know how much time she has. She looks fit as a fiddle. Miggy is strong enough in her psyche to discuss openly her aches and pains. Never to those who she feels are not interested. She suggests we determine how much time is available to achieve a chosen task. Then determine how much time is needed to complete the task. Then commit to a choice. Then, be all in. 100%. Strive for originality, which is difficult. At least, strive for variation on a theme. Learn to enjoy the process of living. It’s thrilling to be one in a billion. 
     Just before our final sip for the afternoon, Miggy offers her parting words, “We should do this more often.”
    And so we shall. My turn to pay the tab.
    Happy New Year!

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TIME
Ken Hurley

ONCE UPON A TIME quickly became twice upon a time after Chaton bought her third clock to sit atop her grandmother’s hand-me-down antique oak bedroom dresser next to her collection of classic Swatch watches.
     Tick tock. Does anybody really know what time it is? If I could turn back time. I’ve had the time of my life. Time heals all wounds. Time wounds all heels. A time to be born and a time to die. A time to plant and a time to harvest. Time, it’s on my side.
     Time is not on your side regardless how many time pieces you wind. Time waits for no person. As Groucho said, “You can leave in a huff. Or you can leave in a minute and a huff.” Which is much slower than a huff and a puff.
     One of the more persistent universal delusions is that we think we have time. We tell ourselves we have time. We don’t. Ask anyone who suddenly and unexpectedly lost a loved one. 
      Time is a made up creation. Time is an effective illusion. Time is a measurement of distance. The invention of time does help us think. Some are good at killing time. Some think time is money. Some make time for us. Others waste time.
     Chaton loves her Swatches. Reliable, stylish, and colorful Swiss timepieces that allow Chaton to “wear her personality on her wrist.” She would often wear two or three Swatches on each wrist and one on her left ankle to match whichever hair color she chose that week. She would set them for time zones in exotic and romantic places around the world she one day hopes to visit. She’s analog all the way.
      I don’t wear a watch but I know I spend too much time trying to find the expiration date on food products.
       I prefer not spend my time describing myself as an atheist. To do so conditionally places self-identity in something that does not exist, is lacking, or otherwise absent. Seems an uninspired way to keep on truckin’. Are you a theist, an atheist, something else? Time will tell. Chaton can not yet decide. It’s ok since she is only 15 years into her life’s adventures.
      Her high school physics teacher, Dr. Visco, told Chaton that there exists a place in the space between the orbits around a nucleus of an atom where time does not exist. Which caused Chaton to wonder if there is a reliable method to evaluate the value of a human being? Maybe by the degree to which one enjoys freedom from boundaries regarding thoughtful behavior? A personal liberation of self and selflessness? Chaton loves Buddha’s platitudes. She tries her best to understand her perceptions before offering her expressions. And she is extraordinarily expressive.
      As humans we experience our thoughts and feelings as something separated from others. Something we tell ourselves are unique. But mostly these thoughts are our mind’s idea of self-worth. This subconscious deception relegates us to strong feelings of wants and needs which we pursue to variable ends. 
      Chaton thought a worthy effort would be to rid herself from mindfield traps of petty wants and needs by expanding her circle of compassionate influence by which she would embrace living creatures in all forms with the respectful recognition we are surrounded by an abundance of beauty. Chaton loves all things nature and enjoys the exuberance of being the creator of her life’s journey.
     Chaton wondered how atheists, theists, and spiritual persons experience much the same information through our senses but each concludes differently. Each believing their way is preferable. The belief that spiritual or atheistic wisdom makes one more special than others tends toward narcissistic reflections which, in moderation, can be a useful shield from harsh criticism, useful to impress others, and may actually enhance self-esteem.
      Chaton thought she should begin her own podcast where she could express her feelings of love, respect, and admiration for the wonders of life. She knows nothing about how to make an engaging thought-provoking podcast but believes she has enough creative energy and imagination to make her voiced opinions believable. Why not her? She has as much insight and determination as the next person. After all she is diligently disciplined in her personal journaling where she shares her secrets, hopes, dreams, aspirations, and fantasies from her fertile imagination and her young rich life.
      At age 15 Chaton was already seen by friends and family as joyfully successful because she was living up to her full potential. She dared to try and try again. She was resolved to not spend her time at a pay-check-to-pay-check job at which she felt would lead to a life of “quiet desperation” as Thoreau (one of her favorites) famously observed. She would negotiate life on her own terms.
      Then it happened. Thrice upon a time! As Shel Silverstein wrote, “It was nine o’clock at midnight at a quarter after three when a turtle met a bagpipe on the shoreside by the sea.” As certain as Chaton loves her inquisitive mind, her Swatches, poetry, Buddha’s platitudes, her life’s journey, and enjoys her time with friends and loved ones; she was stuck point blank by several .223 rounds from an AR-15 held by an upperclassmate who fired randomly into the school cafeteria.
      Chaton was one of eight that tragic day who suddenly and unexpectedly was out of time. Her final moment in time was recorded by the coroner, memorialized by tearful, heartbroken friends and loved ones, and marked by the Swatches she wore that day. Her left wrist: 12:33pm (New York), 5:33pm (Paris), 4:33pm (Marrakesh). Her right wrist: 6:33pm (Petra), 7:33pm (Seychelles), 6:33am (Kauai). The red Swatch on her ankle was always set to eight minutes past ten. A constant reminder to Chatron that even the face of clock can smile too.

Got a minute?
Friday, December 14, 2012, was the day when a gunman killed 20 children and six adults at Sandy Hook Elementary School in Newtown, Connecticut. The guns he used were purchased legally by his mother who he also killed. You may read more about school gun violence here:  https://www.sandyhookpromise.org/
And here:  https://www.britannica.com/event/Sandy-Hook-Elementary-School-shooting
 ###

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THE REVOLUTIONARIES 
     Ken Hurley

EATING RICE PUDDING as I plot my next move, I chat with the gold-toothed, nose-ringed, sleeve-tatted, revolutionaries: Paco, Arthur, Boo-Boo, and Ace.
      They are particularly agitated today after learning the barista at the local Bean Counter is fresh out of lactose-free cream. No Latte Macchiato for the bad boys who hope to kick up the pep in their step as they wonder again how best to right the world and whether or not they really need a manifesto.
      Carla Howe, from the nationally known law firm, Sooem and Howe, is sitting next to me. Carla is my quibbling, disputant, pettifogger friend, who still takes pride raising annoying and trite objections to nearly everything.
      She offered to argue with management on behalf of the revolutionaries about the injustice wrought by the lack of lactose-free cream. The revolutionaries each declined her offer opting instead for a Cinnabon and Diet Coke.
      Without provocation and the non-est non sequitur ever, Carla, with the desperation of a mother who misplaced her five year old in Target, explains to me the differences between lewd and lascivious. 
      Between bites of the sugary warm, heart-stopping, diabetes-inducing Cinnabon, Paco belts out Chaka Khan’s, “I’m Every Woman” to the wonderment of the café patrons who joyfully sing along in disharmonious dissonance.
      Boo-Boo, the heretic of the group, decides now is better than never and raises the matter of life beyond Earth. "Suppose there is life beyond our planet but we can't recognize it because it isn't carbon-based?" as the café chorus sings.
      Arthur, ever the pontificating philosopher, says with a quiet deep rumble through his long white gnome beard, "There are only two mistakes one can make along the road to truth:  1) Not starting on the road and  2) Believing there is a road to ‘truth’." 
      Boo-boo continues, "Suppose there is life elsewhere but the genetic construction has no resemblance to our DNA structure?"
      Paco jumps on the counter to conduct the caffeinated patrons with a straw baton as they yell, "I'm every woman / It's all in me / Anything you want done baby / I do it naturally."
      Arthur, with a sugary glazed stare and the tantric liberation of a weary Tibetan Monk whispers, "Not all truths are created equal. Grin-making are religious truths. 'My religion is better than your religion', say the religious. And, 'I’ll penalize you, shame you, ostracize you, or kill you to prove it. Won’t you and your family join us at our next service'?"
      A perplexed Boo-boo wonders aloud, "Suppose there is extraterrestrial life but it doesn't have any DNA or other nucleic acids?"
     Arthur with a smirk and giggle says, "Laughable too are secular 'truths'. America continues to sustain a culture that exalts warriors and denigrates peacemakers for the benefit of power."
     Carla slowly gyrates provocatively in her seat as she sips her Stevia sweetened Iced Mocha through the steel straw she carries everywhere, "Mmmm … tasty …  Mmmmm," she says between sips as she gives her best effort to display lewdness or lasciviousness. I can not discern the difference. I smile. She winks. Then her right fake eyelash falls into her drink.
      Ace has a sleepy, droopy-eyed look when he mumbles, "Not sure if I am more sick or more tired of people telling me they’re sick and tired." Ace slumps where he sits. Mid-day nap time.
      Arthur offers wisdom fit for a roundtable, "Beware of those who claim they're 'woke'. They're not!" As he slams his fist onto the table causing enough physical reverberation to loosen his gold teeth.       
      Boo-boo continues to wonder, "Suppose instead of looking for life as we know it, we need to look for life as we don't know it?"
      My time at the Bean Counter passes quickly. 
      Paco has put down his staw baton. The Café Chorus has ended their final stanza. And I realize the revolutionaries talk but no one really listens.
      The revolutionaries have succumbed to a Cinnabomb sugar induced coma and are now asleep on each other's shoulders.
      Just before Arthur nods off he stammers in a hushed confused voice, "Always remember and never forget, just because I prefer nouns doesn’t mean I’m pronoun."
      Carla hasn't stopped yapping about her past indiscrete lewd and lascivious debauchery in an effort to get me to agree there is a distinction between lewd and lascivious.
    As Carla yammers. I sprinkle cinnamon on my rice pudding, look her in the left eye, and enjoy a spoonful as fond free thoughts roam through my mind of the time I won second place in a beauty contest. 
    You say you want a revolution? Paco, Arthur,  Boo-Boo, and Ace may not have the same gravitas as Trotsky, Gandhi, Guevara, or Washington, but these four lovable stumblebums have found a way to harmlessly pass time while believing they shift the balance in their favor just a bit.  
      Meet me at the Bean Counter. I'll introduce you to the revolutionaries. As soon as they wake from their nap.
      
You say you want a revolution? Forward comments to Ken Hurley at Kenhurley88@gmail.com 
###

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WORDS MATTER (Duh)

KEN HURLEY

WHAT DO YOU READ, my lord?” asked Polonius.  
      “Words. Words. Words.” replied a trifling, nonchalant, yet crafty Hamlet.
       “What is the matter, my lord?” asked Polonius.
        “Between who?” replied Hamlet.
        “I mean, the matter that you read, my lord.”

A brief scene from Hamlet, Act 2, Scene 2 where Polonius makes another effort to talk with Hamlet. Hamlet makes his sarcastic reply suggesting the words he is reading are meaningless while also slyly showing contempt for Polonius’s constant blathering.
      “Words matter!” is often said in a condescending and derogatory tone accompanied by a vigorous finger wag by one grappling for intellectual superiority while oblivious to the short path they’re traveling toward demonstrating their own frustrating cognitive dissonance. Their hope is the recipient of the “words matter” admonition will hear the phrase as revelatory.
     Ahh, words! Of course. Yes. Yes! Words. Words. Words matter.
      As if we, the subject of the intellectual onslaught, are so mindnumbed that we cannot discern the difference between the words poison and candy.
     The late Rush Limbaugh gets some credit for popularizing the phrase “words matter” when he sat behind a golden microphone on his EIB Radio Network as he patronized and denigrated women, liberals, minorities and others with whom he disagreed. “El Rushbo” thought it necessary to let his listeners know that “words matter.”
    Barack Obama famously replied to Hillary Clinton’s view that Obama’s well-versed speeches essentially didn’t mean much without action. In another well-versed speech Obama said, “Don’t tell me words don’t matter. ‘I have a dream’ – just words? ‘We owe these truths to be self-evident that all men are created equal’ – just words? ‘We have nothing to fear but fear itself’ – just words, just speeches?”
      Obviously, words do matter. Saying “words matter” is extraordinarily obvious. Moreover, to say “words matter” without specificity is laziness.
      The troublesome issue comes from people who bellow “words matter” as a smug and often abrupt end to an argument in which they have likely disabused their own “words matter” mantra. Some of these same people seem quite capable of finding an argument on any topic while twisting definitions to suit their position. To misquote an often paraphrased quote said by the Mexican bandit leader Gold Hat from the Treasure of Sierra Madre, “Definitions? We don’t need no stinkin’ definitions.”
      The expression “sticks and stones may break my bones but words will never hurt me” is a half-truth. Words can hurt.
        I have a friend who had a common congenital facial deformity – protruding ears. When she was in elementary school, boys called her names like Spock, Dumbo, and monkey. These unkind remarks caused lots of tears and impacted her self-worth. She was energetic and athletic but felt it necessary to hide her ears with her hair or a hat. She no longer saw herself as beautiful but now as tainted, different, and ugly.   
     Even though she knew her self-worth did not come from her outward appearance, it was painfully difficult to forget the bullying and the name-calling.
     In college, she had surgery to pin her ears back. It helped her confidence but the memories and emotional scars linger.
    Now she is a happily married mother over 20 years living her best most creative life.
      There are too many derogatory racial epithets to share here with the further effort to show words can hurt. Here’s an excellent book that examines the history and controversy surrounding one of the more contemptuous slurs, “Nigger: The Strange Career of a Troublesome Word” by Randall Kennedy.
       Let me offer some examples from the “words matter” lexicon of human verbal oddities of seemingly harmless yet aggressive or violent expressions spoken reflexively sans thought. 

Grab some coffee • Beat you to the punch • Beat a dead horse • Nail it down • Knife in the back • Dying of thirst • I’m starving • Brutally honest • Dying to meet you • Shoot you an email • Dog eat dog world • Push comes to shove • Roll with the punches • Kill time •  Pick your brain • Drop me off • All tied up •  Have a crush • Brainstorm • Kill them with kindness • Jump the gun • Gunned down the runner at third • Kill the ump •  Shoot the breeze • Take a shot at it • Burned out • End of my rope • Bury the hatchet • You strike me as …

Here’s a mindnumbingly odd phrase spoken by people who want to preface what follows as a truthful statement but in effect puts veracity into question, “To be honest . . .”
      “To be honest” may be said before or after a statement to indicate the speaker is telling the truth about their opinions. To be honest, the undeniable implication is that the speaker hasn’t been honest other times. Honestly, “to be honest” is an unnecessary phrase unless the speaker honestly struggles with honesty.
     Here’s another figure of speech that generations of people use. When we work, we’re told to work hard. When we play, we’re told to play hard. “I work hard and I play hard!” These same people ask why is my life is so hard? Suppose instead of working hard or playing hard we worked and played joyfully and lovingly?
     Here’s another phrase spoken with little thought yet said by the hopeful that the recipient will back-off. “I’m busy!”
      Take note next time someone says, “I’m busy.” Because you’ll rarely if never hear, “I’m busy” from truly busy people. Truly busy people make time for you without saying, “I’m busy.” How? Because truly busy people know how to manage their precious time effectively without the whine, “I’m busy!” For so many, “I’m busy” is a simple and amazingly accepted excuse to avoid accountability, express disdain, boredom, or demonstrate priorities. (And you ain’t a priority.) “I’m busy” remains an unfortunate effective verbal mask.
     With all due respect, may we take a moment of scrutiny to look at the phrase, “With all due respect…” While intended as a polite way for the speaker to lessen the effect of the speaker’s cortisol elevating grumbling complaints that follow the expression, the phrase has become so overly used it has reached cliché status. Time to develop a ‘respect meter’ so we can learn how much respect is actually due. With all due respect, of course.
      What might be different in our verbal exchanges if we taught ourselves to avoid the downward spiral into the powerful vortex of tired, thought-terminating clichés and resisted the path of least resistance in an effort to be original, inspiring, and thought-provoking with the words we choose?
     Suffice it to say: “Actions speak louder than words.” I had an attorney who said “Suffice it to say…” often. Problem was she never had anything to say after “Suffice it to say…”
     I also enjoyed the company of an Italian tour guide in Rome who began each sentence with, “Etcetera, etcetera, etcetera…”
    Instead of “Let’s grab a cup of coffee” suppose we said, “Let’s go sip a cup of coffee.”
     Whether you’re “dirt poor” or “filthy rich” — either way you need a bath.
      If you’re going to bury the hatchet at least bury it where it will do the most good.
     And sometimes, words unspoken may leave gentle hearts broken.
     Anyway, it all boils down to pushing the envelope. Business is business. A deal’s a deal. It is what it is. No means no. Enough is enough. And, never say never means I just said never twice.
    The tree is matter. The sky is matter. You matter. You are matter. Words matter.
    Duh.
###

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OVERDUE
Ken Hurley

MARJORIE THOUGHT HER punishment was unjust. She didn’t understand her offense. She sat on a straight hardback chair. Her elbows rested on the knarly old oak table in front of her.  Her hands covered her red puffy eyes. She struggled to catch her breath between uncontrollable quiet sobs. Her surroundings were unfamiliar. Where was she? She knew she would soon be made to do unspeakable things she had never imagined would happen to her. She was scared. She felt alone. Helpless. Silence was enforced. She couldn’t scream. She couldn’t talk. She couldn’t whisper.  She peeked around the room between jags of silent tears. It was large and dimly lit except for a small green-shaded brass lamp which sat on the table. How had she come to this? Why was this happening to her? 

She reviewed the events of her life to reconstruct what might have led to her predicament. She discarded the notion she was in this terrible place because she voted for Trump. This is America. We don’t convict and punish people because of how we cast our vote. She then wondered if perhaps she was here because she voted for Trump, twice?  Could that be the reason she was to suffer? Voted twice for him? She sobbed and sobbed and began to pray. But God wasn’t listening.

She was approached by a cherub of an elderly lady with a bun of gray hair atop her round head. Her eyeglasses rested on her bosom, held by a delicate gold chain around her neck that happened to lie across a small colorful dragonfly tattoo. Her fragrance seemed familiar. Lavender moth balls? Her lips pursed a half smile. Her mud-brown eyes offered a long dark gaze that beckoned — “you’re in my hands now.”

She spoke softly, directly, with immense authority and a gravelly, vocal fry, whose glottal wobbled more than a Bahamian hammock. Her finger tips were yellow. A life long Lucky Striker.

“My name is Eeee-lizbeth. Do you know why you’re here?”

Marjorie sat straight up. Frightened. Her hands trembled. She choked, coughed, and whimpered, “No, ma’am.”

“You have all the symptoms of one who needs to experience what happens in this room. You are here for remediation.”

“Where am I?” Whispered Marjorie.

“Where are you? You really don’t know? This is worse than I thought. We’re going to have to take things real slowly with you.”

“Please. Please,” begged Marjorie.

“Look around you! What do you see?” shouted Elizabeth, breaking the hush hush.

Marjorie looked left and right and swiveled in her chair to look behind her. She looked up at the high, ornate ceiling. She looked back at Elizabeth. “I don’t know?”

Elizabeth pivoted on her heels and began to pace as she muttered softly to herself, “How shall we begin? This is going to be painful.” Marjorie heard her mumbles and fear swelled throughout her body.

Elizabeth stopped and turned to face Marjorie as she commanded, “Stand!” Marjorie struggled. Weak from emotional exhaustion, paralyzed by her images of the horrors about to unfold, she slowly stood.

“Face left. Now, face right and tell me again you do not know what is before you.”

“I’m sorry, ma’am. I do not know,” she cried.

Elizabeth was enraged but kept her cool and then bellowed, “Books! You are surrounded by shelves and shelves of beautiful books! You are in the Great Library of America, the only known remedy for the intellectually lazy and willfully ignorant. You will be under my supervision until we decide you have sufficient knowledge and proficient application of the resources available free to you so that you can return to society as a fully functional and literate individual who can discern the difference between a swindle and a fair future. It won’t be easy. You’ll have to learn to enjoy reading. You’ll have to read authentic opposing viewpoints. You’ll have to learn to think. You’ll have to learn how to think critically. You’ll have to learn how to act responsibly toward yourself and others. You’ll have to demonstrate you’ll never vote for a individual or party that has repeatedly stood in the way of human progress. After that, you’ll be left alone. But you’ll be better prepared to pursue happiness.”

Their eyes locked. There was a long silence. Then Elizabeth spoke softly, “Meanwhile, let’s begin by reading the United States Constitution. Together. Have a seat.”

---

GOD’S RANT #639
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 ’cause 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.
###

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PLINY THE ELDER
Ken Hurley
PLINY THE ELDER WAS FIRST Pliny the Elder by a respectful eight year old boy when Pliny the Elder was a nine year old elementary student cracking wise with his weary old grammaticus.
      “The only certainty is that nothing is certain!” Pliny the Elder would shout in Greek then Latin as he yanked the teacher’s tunic to his ankles. Embarrassment for the teacher. Giggles for the children.
      Pliny the Elder was born Gaius Plinius Secundus (23 to 79 A.D.) but insisted that he always be addressed as Pliny the Elder to differentiate from all the other Pliny’s, most notably his nephew, Pliny the Younger. Lessor known Pliny’s are: Pliny the Middle Aged, Pliny the Retired, Pliny the Kid, and Pliny the Pleb (no relation).
      There is lots of obstinate and pervasive misinformation among historians and gossips regarding the great Roman scholar, historian, officer, lawyer, author, naturalist, corpulent and affable, Pliny the Elder. I’m here to set the wobbly record straight.
      Pliny the Elder was as respected and accomplished as one could be living under the chaotic and tyrannical rule of Emperor Nero. Take a moment to remember Nero chose suicide at 30 years alive after being declared a public enemy by the Roman Senate in Absentia. I have a friend who lives in Cognito which is close to Absentia. Nero stabbed himself in the neck. Efforts by others to stop the bleeding failed while Nero gurggled his last words, ‘Too late’.
      Wikipedia is a dominant free global online information source founded in 2001 that is often our first reference search but should not be considered a definitive source because it can be updated by any boorish schlub at anytime with good information, misinformation, or disinformation.
      Wikipedia is a portmanteau from “wikiwiki” which means ‘fast’ in that old Polynesian language of the Austronesian language family now known as the Hawaiian language; and “pedia”, which I suppose somehow relates to learning.
      Before Wikipedia, all the facts we wanted were found in heavy physical page turners like Encyclopædia Britannica, The World Book, and Funk & Wagnalls. The later was sold volume by volume in American grocery stores.
      Reverend Funk was a Lutheran Minister, a prohibitionist, and a renowned lexicographer. Coincidence has his last name evoke a state of depression, odious smells, and a music genre through a mixture of soul, jazz, rhythm and blues. The envelopes with the questions for Carnac the Magnificent were “kept in a mayonnaise jar on the porch of Funk and Wagnalls.” You could, “Look that up in your Funk and Wagnalls.” And, next time you’re in Lithopolis, Ohio, please visit the Wagnalls Memorial Library. Funk doesn’t have his own library. He does have a porch.
     Our man of the month, Pliny the Elder compliled, Naturalis Historia (Natural History), an encyclopedia of 37 books into which he collected all the knowledge he could remember or revise with proficient pedantry informed by Stoic natural philosophy paired with sips of the fine fermentation of Fiano di Avellino grapes that Pliny the Elder noted were “beloved by bees” due to the honeyed aroma and the subtle flavor of hazelnuts.
       Some historians consider Naturalis Historia  to be the first encyclopedia ever written. Other historians disagree. Of course the gossips wish it included a gossip section.
      Pliny the Elder wrote that his subject matter would be “nature, that is life.” For Pliny the Elder, “Nature is the world, both as a whole and as its separate components; she is both the creator and the creation.” He offers little to nothing relative to his speculation regarding the nature of nature.
      Unlike one of his Roman buddies, a former tutor and speechwriter for Nero, Seneca the Younger was a Stoic philosopher, statesman, dramatist, and occasional satirist, who couldn’t stop pontificating regarding his every thought. While Pliny the Elder had an aversion to blabby philosophical arguments.
       Seneca the Younger, you’ll recall, is famous for repeating one of his all time favorite piths every chance he could to anyone who would listen:

Religion is regarded by the common people as true, by the wise as false, and by rulers as useful!

Pliny the Pleb was often seen in his tattered tunic along Appian Way shouting a familar reply:

Religion leads to duplicity!
Duplicity leads to doubt!
Doubt leads to fear!
Fear leads to death!
Death leads to Religion!
And, again . . . whoopee!

Sadly, Seneca the Younger, also took his own life after the accusations over his alleged involvement with the efforts to assinate Nero became too much to endure.
       Pliny the Elder didn’t care to discuss the nature of nature in Epicurean or Stoic terms. He instead leaned toward particular pedagogy with entries like: 

The best kind of emeralds come from Scythia.

It takes six European trees produce pitch.

There are three kinds of lettuce.

Rocket [Arugula] is an excellent aphrodisiac.

Pliny the Elder gathered knowledge from his personal observations, his own prior works (such as his big book about Germany), and extracts from other works that were collected through the use of a servant who would read aloud while another servant would rewrite the extracts as Pliny the Elder offered edits and snarky remarks like, “In wine, there’s truth!” as he sipped from his terra-cotta jar a mega-pint of vintage amber-colored Falernian vinum made from Aglianico grapes grown on the slopes of Monte Massico then soaked for a week in the Mediterranean Sea. This pleased Bacchus, the Roman party god of wine, vegetation, fertility, festivity, ritual madness, ecstasy, theatre, and general whackiness.
      Which brings me to a botanical entry found in Naturalis Historia, Lupus Salictarius, today known as Humulus Lupulus, commonly known as hops. Pliny the Elder enjoyed his fine wine daily and occasionally a beer or two.
     Beer lovers take note. There is a delicious Double India Pale Ale brewed with nuggets of Amarillo, Centennial, Simcoe, Columbus, Tomahawk, and Zeus hops. Slightly bitter with a fresh hoppy aroma of floral, citrus, earthy dankness, and pine named, Pliny the Elder!
     Pliny the Elder of ancient Rome achieved everlasting fame due to his nephew, Pliny the Younger, who wrote about his uncle’s heroic, sad, and untimely death when he succumbed to gaseous fumes, volcanic ash, and smoke during the eruption of Mt. Vesuvius in 79 A.D. during his attempt to rescue Pliny the Younger and others from the explosion. Some historians (who shall remain anonymous) believe Pliny the Elder died of a heart attack while on his valiant rescue mission. The gosspis have another story that I’ll leave for another time. However, it does involve wine.
    Before Pliny the Elder was found belly up he left us with some memorably terse aphorisms like: “Home is where the heart is.” And, “Hope is the pillar that holds up the world. Hope is the dream of a waking man.” And, “There is always something new out of Africa.”
     “Out of Africa” sounds like a good title for a classy memoir about early 20th century life on a coffee plantation in the Ngong Hills of British East Africa (now Kenya). Am I right Karen Blixen?
     La fine. Arrivederci miei amici!
Please send questions or comments to Ken Hurley the Elder

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DR. SMOOTH
Ken Hurley

There are days I lament my career choice of not following my dreams to become a mad scientist. The unbounded joys of working in a secret underground cave laboratory with a beautiful assistant who would call me Dr. Smooth fill my cup. And I have a big cup.
     My meals would arrive by Doordash and be left outside the lab because I’d be working late making myself invisible, which might go past 10:00pm. Do you know where your children are? Ha! Good luck trying to find them once my invisibility potion hits the market.
     Imagine, if rather than just one invisible man, the entire population were invisible. Careful where you sit! Oooh! My kind of fun.
     My invisibility potion would be strong. Whatever you first touch with your hands would become invisible for as long as some part of your body touches it. I have conquered the way to suppress the light scattering needed to cloak the human form with glorious invisibility! Mad? You decide. It’s a scientific breakthrough by breaking the unbreakable speed of light. Einstein would smile!
     The benefits of worldwide invisibility are clearly seen. Racism would cease. Murder would end. No more wars. Government actions would really become transparent. No more suffering through another season of Jaguars Football! The “Invisible Man” in the sky would now truly be made in our image.
     Invisibility! Healthy and stealthy.
     Ah, but there’s a rub. Just as there’s a large anti-vax crowd who are led by the mindless musings of people so dumb when they hear “Drinks on the house” they get a ladder, there will be those who won’t like my invisibility potion for reasons so inexplicable it stretches credulity further than a Spandex Speedo over Orlando Bloom in full form.     
It is inevitable there will be a political divide and significant rancor amongst the “Unseen” and the “Seen.” But the shouting and online memes will soon end. The agonizing frustration caused by the futility of trying to find The Unseen will land The Seen in the looney bin singing Looney Tunes. We’re going to need a bigger bin.
    Eventually, The Seen will gain enough insight to see the benefits of being Unseen and embrace my invisibility potion with all the fanatical enthusiasm one sees when the Brazilians score a goal.
     Yes, my friends, I could have been a mad scientist who found the elusive and invisible path to world peace. But, knowing there are skeptics amongst us, I guess you’d have to see it to believe it.     

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GOD’S RANT #17
     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
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CHRISTIAN ROCK
Ken Hurley

THERE ARE MOMENTS when I yearn for the days before there was Christian rock. When Elvis was King and analysis of the leitmotifs regarding the tonal significance of what the bassoon was saying at the New York Philharmonic was a fun Sunday afternoon.
    The churchy charlatans of the days when rock ‘n’ roll began still live amongst us. If not them, certainly their offspring. (They breed.) These pulpit pabalum spewing chuckleheads decided that rock ‘n’ roll must go because Satan was behind it all. Their hatred of rock ‘n’ roll as a savage jungle display of human vulgarity was rooted in their sense of self-supremacy.
      Apparently, the Supreme Devil himself could jive tap his foot to The Andrews Sisters, Boogie Woogie Bugle Boy, but shouldn’t act allTutti Frutti or wiggle a toe in Blue Suede Shoes.
    Yet it was the “holy spirit” that moved so many Christians to gyrate with uncontrollable jackhammer intensity at their Southern Baptist church services. The preachers thought wiggling to Little Richard was blasphemy but shaking to the spirit of the Lord during church by someone who looked afflicted with an  epileptic seizure was God in glorious action.
     Elvis (anagram: Evils) when asked to explain what he did on stage when it was seen as scandalously licentious, said, “I just sing like they do back home.”
     Ray Charles deserves a whole lotta lovin’ for intentionally merging “sacred” and secular music. He modified gospel songs into R&B wonders. He changed a few words, went upbeat, added a touch of human sensuality and turnedTalkin’ ’Bout Jesus into Talkin’ ’Bout You; This Little Light of Mine became This Little Girl of Mine; It Must Be Jesus became I’ve Got a Woman.
   Yet rock music owes some of its success to the Christian faith even though later the Christian faith co-oped the musical style as another way to appeal to believers who might also add a few shekels to their coffers.
     It’s the drumbeat! “A backbeat you can’t lose it . . .” As Chuck Berry sang. Many of the rhythmic notations began in Africa; became work songs, blues, gospel, rock, then Christian Rock. Eventually, most of the fearmongering from the pulpits regarding the evil demons of rock ‘n’ roll subsided.
      The hippie craze helped inspire the “Jesus movement,” where Christ was portrayed as a bearded, long-haired, sandal wearing, tie-died, peace and love, activist dude, who wanted to be your personal savior. Jesus Christ became a Superstar. And, just like that, lots of Christian congregations were rocking and rolling. Even Bob Dylan became born again.
      Like a ship at sea named Beauty Rest, rocking and rolling is still good. As Duke Ellington wrote, “Music is My Mistress.”  And, as MC Hammer sang, “It’s all good”.
     So what was all the fuss about?

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MOONSHINE
Ken Hurley
LET’S BEGIN BY ASKING, “Does this sentence remind you of sex?” Take a moment. Think about it. Just a little longer. Ok, let’s continue.
     Her name is Moonshine. She was born Amy but changed her name in college to reflect her clandestine hobby of sipping bathtub gin at night with the boys in the rough near hole nine while star gazing and giggling over hedonistic leanings. By hedonistic leanings, I mean, the boys. I know. I was one of them.
      We dated for awhile in college but our arguments over which one of us was more disappointed with the other caused us to break up.
      Moonshine was a self-confessed  hyperbolic, histrionic, bloviating, boorish, boneheaded, ill-informed, exagerating, argumentative, status seeking, loud, mistrustful yet a fascinating libertine and vulgarian who was so skeptical she couldn’t even believe herself. Piercings, tats, Kools, and leather. She’s a free spirit and yes, she is a friend.
     She wasn’t always so self-aware that she could offer such a harsh critique of herself. It took decades. She still struggles with self-identification.
     She didn’t have a pleasant manner when she realized she wasn’t getting her way. She was so self-absorbed she had zero concept that the world or her friends could have different opinions than she. She worked hard at the arguments she enjoyed as long as she felt in the end she was right. She was like shampoo, only for yelling. She would yell. Repeat. Yell again. All to get her way often over the most insignificant issues too.
     She thought she was right even after it was clear she was merely rationalizing to protect her hurt feelings. Like the Fox in the Fox and the Grapes fable.
    One day after she and I got into a little brouhaha (mosty ha ha for me) over who would win in a fight: Probiotics or Antibiotics? Moonshine realized the art of relaxed communication was preferable to her ways and stopped dancing with her anger. Overnight she stopped the maddening and arrogant quest to change the world to fit her needs. Her dubious and doubtful outlook eased as she began to embrace the joys of life without being overly critical. She became remarkably accepting of others. She even developed an enriched sixth sense of humor. She changed herself and found what she describes as tranquility of mind. Others might say inner peace. She taught herself how to experience fully the present moment.
     Moonshine is an illustrative example of how one of the greatest attributes we humans have is the ability to change our mind. To do so we need to understand our own thoughts. We don’t always have to be right. And, it’s likely, most of us are not.
     The question remains, does this sentence remind you of sex?

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CRITICAL THINKING
Ken Hurley

The cognitive bias often found within hurried heuristic abductive reasoning is a source of logical flaws which create a premise unworthy of a sound conclusion relative to a widespread misunderstanding of what is believed to be “critical thinking.”

Wow! That is one hell of an opening sentence. Read it again!

Ever meet someone who just seems to criticize nearly everything, believing their understanding of critical thinking is to demonstrate criticism at every turn?

I have. More than once too. They are generally unaware of their incessant unpleasant attitude toward life, so much so that it makes one wonder: how do they find moments of joy or happiness?

Much has been written about critical thinking. It is generally agreed that critical thinking is much more than just being critical.

To be charitable, the word ‘critical’ seems to be the root cause or culprit, if you will, causing confusion, a perplexing paradigm, and a distorted conclusion regarding what critical thinking actually is supposed to be.

Think about it. Time’s up.

Much of our 21st century understanding of critical thinking seems to have devolved from its initial origins among the great philosophers to a muddled mishmash of mind-numbing childlike negativity where everything is a big fat “No!” Arms crossed. Face red too.

Ever have a conversation with someone who believes they demonstrate intelligence by asking a myriad of dumb questions? Or, in the same conversation presents a puzzling hypothesis not born from the facts regarding the issue discussed? Whoever first said there are no dumb questions was being thoughtful, supportive, and encouraging, but in some circumstances, wrong. The hope of a thoughtful question is to learn from the answer. Is a Non-Critical thinker a Complimentary Thinker?

So, what is critical thinking?

Perhaps the confusion I referenced would be lessened if instead of the phrase “critical thinking” we said, let’s learn how to “think critically.”

The debate continues over what should be included in the list of knowledge, skills, and dispositions required to think critically. However, there is enough consensus among those who study and teach critical thinking to inform meaningful ongoing discussions.

Among the components of an authentic critical thinker would be a desire to create reasonable arguments with facts, humility, integrity, creativity, courage, confidence, empathy, determination, fairness, and open-mindedness. The ability to entertain an argument counter to one’s own without being critical is also a delight. An optimistic approach to critical thinking is also a healthy way to engage in differing viewpoints.

Through the years there have been many definitions of critical thinking that include thinking about your own thoughts while overcoming bias. The critical thinker improves the quality of their own thinking by analyzing, assessing, and reconstructing their thoughts. Critical thinking is self-reflective, self-disciplined, self-imposed, and self-corrective thinking. The critical thinker uses a mindful approach to collaborative excellence utilizing effective civil discourse and problem-solving abilities. Happy critical thinkers are a delight!

What do you think about your own thoughts relative to critical thinking?

I invite all comments and criticism.

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A LETTER TO PRESIDENT THOMAS JEFFERSON

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 art 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 not 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 the 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.

– Theurgist Hurley, February 4, 1802

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TROUBLE WITH THE FIRST AMENDMENT
Ken Hurley

We have a problem in America that begins with our First Amendment and is furthered by none other than President Thomas Jefferson in an effort to pacify the Baptists.
            When President Jefferson penned the phrase “wall of separation between Church and State,” he had little to no idea how co-opted his intentions would become and how many organizations would make millions and millions and millions of dollars simply by keeping the fight about the metaphorical wall alive.
            Jefferson famously penned in his letter to the Danbury Baptist Association: “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.“
            The wall of separation of church and state is as imaginary as the gods themselves. All walls fall, eventually. Berlin. China. Belfast. Wailing. Israel. Mexico.
            The wall of separation of church and state has failed. It could never work as suggested. The wall is pretend. Just like religious beliefs, the wall is make-believe. If you begin with a false narrative you are likely to end with false conclusions. The false conclusion here is that we continue to embrace an imaginary wall that is successful.
            This false conclusion is born from a false narrative where people claim God says to live a particular way. Yet others have no belief in any gods described by humans. Still others in government pass laws regarding religion that often need to be interpreted by the U.S. Supreme Court.
Meanwhile, all factions are asked to get on their side of the wall, tripping over each other trying to figure out how. It is a perpetual clown show. Except, clowns are real. The make-believe religiosity, which caused the imaginary wall to be evoked, has been elevated to the Supreme Law of the Land courtesy of our First Amendment.
            All this time and effort stems from people who claim they believe they know what God wants and others who say there is no god. There is consensus about neither the content of the mind of God nor a methodology for discerning the mind of God. Therefore, it is not God. It is people. It’s always the humans. People use religion to manipulate, scare, and lie to other people, often while making a wealthy, tax-free, church-based living doing so. It’s just another story.
            It is time to recognize the folly of trying to decide which crazy religious vs. secular dogma belongs on which side of the imaginary wall.
            No wonder there is so much confusion and frustration surrounding religion. It is impossible for good faith to maintain integrity within false narratives.
            It is time to get rid of the imaginary wall. The metaphorical wall did not stop the real world Hobby Lobby from becoming exempt from a law its owners objected to by claiming their religious beliefs. Christmas is a national holiday. The word God is on our money. “In God We Trust” became our national motto. The most recent version of Pledge of Allegiance cites God. Lawmakers enacted a dubious Religious Freedom Restoration Act. Troublesome as all that may be, it is even more problematic that the above factual occurrences arise from people who merely claim deeply held “beliefs.”
            Yet, as much as I claim the imaginary wall of separation of church and state has failed, there is an exception to my premise.
            A huge success may be claimed by those who fundraise and make millions of dollars doing so in the name of protecting the pretend wall, or protecting “religious liberty,” or protecting secular visions of America. Here the imaginary wall is nearly perfect. These people are the enablers of an irrationality that serves a narrow and selfish purpose. What better way to keep the so-called righteous fight alive than to pretend we need to keep the righteous fight alive? Both sides of the wall need the conflict to consolidate their own tenuous grasp on power. Everyone wants more money!
            No one on either side of the wall wants to define what victory looks like. What is the end game? There is no end game. None. Just the game.
            It’s the wrong fight. It is all pretend except for the millions of dollars made by those who get paid to sustain the imaginary wall that supposedly keeps Church and State separate.
            It is like the divorcing couple fighting over their cow, one pulls on the head while the other pulls on the tail, all the while their attorneys milk the cow. The charade is also a reminder of the swindlers who sold the Emperor his new clothes.
            I am aware there are those who claim religion does good things too. Yet, religion has little to nothing to do with being good or bad. People do. Religion is too often merely an excuse for good or bad behavior. We as individuals, who are of sound mind and body, make good or bad decisions ourselves. The more we know, the better decisions we can make.
            Religion remains an unproven concept of good that preys on the needy while claiming to pray for the needy. We can do better as a society. As John Lennon mused, “Imagine there’s no heavens / It’s easy if you try. . .Imagine there’s no countries / It isn’t hard to do / Nothing to kill or die for / And no religion too.”
            To be clear, I’m not advocating the forceful cessation of religion. No. That is as bad as the worst crimes, lies, and manipulations of religion. I’m saying we can do better when we understand we are all in this together – if only for a short time.
            We do not need imaginary gods and centuries-old dogma created by people who didn’t know where the sun went at night. We don’t need centuries-old dogma to help us through the day if we are able to help each other along the way. The imaginary wall only confounds things further.
            Our real problems began in America when religious belief became elevated to the Supreme Law of the Land via the First Amendment. Religious beliefs should be afforded no more constitutional protection than a philosophy club. That’s not what we have. Working toward that is a worthwhile goal.
            Pastors, Imams, Rabbis, and other self-appointed spokespersons for God should be allowed to speak freely from the pulpit on any topic they choose, including politics and endorsements. Religious “landmark” cases heard by the United States Supreme Court could have been avoided entirely or settled as free speech cases if religion were not part of our First Amendment.
            A fair, open, and free society should not fear persecution by our government because of the words we choose to express our thoughts.
            If there were a way to demote religiosity from the Supreme Law of the Land, we should do so even while the religious whine that their “religious liberty” is under attack.
Religion (the GOD Business) is uniquely and intentionally referenced in the First Amendment with instructions that Congress shall not make laws regarding a religious establishment (noun not verb) or religious exercises. In other words, the government is supposed to remain neutral relative to churches and their counterparts.
            However, there is no constitutional requirement for the government to remain neutral regarding other non-profit organizations. Therefore, tax exemptions for churches are the equivalent of a tax subsidy to churches and should be considered unconstitutional.
            We, the people, pay higher taxes than we would if religious institutions paid their fair share. Churches use city services, our roads, our police, our fire departments, yet churches do not contribute to the coffers to pay their fair share for those services. Tax exemptions for property and buildings used for religious purposes are the largest cause of lost revenue for municipalities. As Benjamin Franklin wrote in a letter to that famous Unitarian Minister and Philosopher, Richard Price, “When a religion is good, I conceive it will support itself; and, when it cannot support itself, and God does not take care to support so that its Professors are oblig’d to call for the help of the Civil Power, it is a sign, I apprehend, of its being a bad one.” 
            Religion in America has enjoyed unprecedented government benefits and perks for a long time. What is liberating about religious liberty anyway? Looks like money! Lots of tax-free money.
            It is time to fairly tax the God business for what it is – Mega churches equal mega bucks. And, many of the religious leaders are mega wealthy. The religious tax advantages and subsidies must end. That’s a worthwhile effort!
            As Mark Twain said, “No church property is taxed and so the infidel and the atheist and the man without religion are taxed to make up the deficit in the public income thus caused.”
It may be at some point the down the line we will all joyfully meet at the confluence of feeling good about ourselves, while helping others, with a healthy awareness of our mortality. When we feel good about ourselves we are in a better position to help others. It’s extraordinarily reciprocal. 

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TOLERANCE

Ken Hurley

Suppose my Jeopardy opponent rang my buzzer (with the thought of being helpful) but got the answers wrong. Suppose the third baseman (with the thought of being helpful) continually tried to also field first base but could never make the play. Suppose the guy in the corporate mail room (with the thought of being helpful) decided the CEO doesn’t need all this mail.

These few examples are illustrative of a greater problem: People who believe they are doing the right things but disregard established boundaries. This tends to cause more problems than it solves through misguided, but maybe genuine, efforts at being helpful.

Know anyone like the third baseman?

Intolerable? Yes. Yet, all easily correctable because the rules of play were already agreed to and there is sufficient authority to enforce the rules without much danger.

To tolerate the intolerable is to be complicit with the offense.

To tolerate the intolerable is often dangerous too. Let’s remember that Trump supporters breached all acceptable boundaries when they tried to run Biden’s campaign bus off the road. Tried to kidnap the Governor of Michigan. And, stormed the U.S. Capitol, which is rightfully called a deadly treasonous insurrection. These are “Short-bus … brain-damaged people” to quote Albert Watkins, the attorney for the insurrectionist and “QAnon Shaman” Jacob Chansley. Watkins further explained that his client and other accused Capitol terrorists were especially vulnerable to being misled by Trump’s big lies. The insurrectionists believed they were doing the right thing.

History holds lots of examples where tolerance for another’s viewpoint eventually yielded deadly outcomes. (Add your list here.)

The question isn’t how should we  tolerate the intolerable. We can’t and shouldn’t. At least not for long. The question becomes how do we mitigate the intolerable while minimizing the danger. Moreover, who decides what the capacity of our tolerance should be?

The answer isn’t a question. The answer is as complex as our social construct.

One answer is the reason the First Coast Freethought Society exists, to be with folks who we believe share similar worldviews and with whom our tolerance levels are not seriously challenged. Caution though. Every society has the third baseman overreaching, trying to simultaneously field first base. And every society has its gossips. Did you hear that the President has a reputation of refusing to sit next to a mumbler on the subway?

Coexistence is difficult. The capacity to tolerate acceptable parameters can be a challenge for the third baseman who wants to also field first base.

I invite all comments, tolerable or otherwise.

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Terrorism, Insurrection, and God 
by Ken Hurley

The U.S. Code of Federal Regulations defines terrorism as “the unlawful use of force and violence against persons or property to intimidate or coerce a government, the civilian population, or any segment thereof, in furtherance of political or social objectives.”

Title 22. Chapter 38 U.S. Code § 2656f defines terrorism as “premeditated, politically motivated violence perpetrated against noncombatant targets by subnational groups or clandestine agents.”

The FBI, DOD, Congressional Acts, and Webster’s each have their own definition too. Yet, each has similar components: violence, noncombatant targets, fear, and political motivation.

The deadly Trump-led insurrection on January 6, 2021 has all the components of terrorism.

Additionally, there are many who believe the attack on the U.S. Capitol was God inspired.

The New York Times reported that Proud Boys and many evangelical Christians knelt to pray outside the Capitol to ask God’s favor before they wreaked havoc. Christian symbols were seen and prayers were heard throughout the terrifying deadly insurrection. Many seditious rioters described the insurrection as a “holy war.”

QAnon conspiracies about deep-state pedophiles, fears about government taking away religious liberty, and unfounded claims of election fraud were also motivation to do “God’s will.” Many of the insurrectionists believed the apocalypse is near and the time to act is now.

Self-appointed spokespersons for God often use their delusional perceptions as a stratagem to serve partisan, religious, political, or personal agendas up to and including terrorism.

God has been cited as the source of justification for slavery, anti-Semitism, anti-LGBT equality, genocide, jihad, caliphate, terrorism, and many other horrific events intended to keep people from experiencing the joys of life as they determine.

Believers in “divine law” take their authority from their respective holy texts. Yet these same supporters often apologize for the horrible and deadly interpretations of the holy texts claiming they were misreadings or misapplications of God’s “true” will: that those other people who committed the dastardly deeds got it wrong.

Should we presume that those who would call themselves God’s spokespersons believe that it was God who mandated eternal inequities of slavery? That God calls for the execution of gays? That God wanted a race war through the murderous actions of Dylann Roof? That the terrorizing insurrection on January 6 was all part of God’s plan?

Nope.

Humans are to blame for the immoralities of slavery, anti-Semitism, genocide, racism, xenophobia, terrorism, and other atrocities. Just as humans must be credited with the hundreds of morally elevating laws and good works.

Humans are responsible for a healthy, safe, prosperous world view that seeks growth, creativity, innovation, and peace. Our responsibilities toward each other must not be muddled with indoctrinated delusions of what misguided believers believe God wants.

In our diverse world, where so many people claim to know what God wants – and where there is no consensus nor a methodology for discerning what God wants or from whose imagination God emerged first — God should not be invoked as the source of our civil rights, our moral direction, the January 6 attack, or why natural weather events occur.

For too many, religious indoctrination from childhood throughout adulthood is a challenge that often is never overcome. And January 6 is more evidence of how terrifyingly deadly delusional humans can be in the name of God.

In the 21st century, we still kill each other in the name of God.

Maybe in the 22nd century, we’ll learn to love each other in the name of humanity.

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ABORTION 

by Ken Hurley

Roe v. Wade was not the beginning of women having abortions, it was the end of women dying from abortions. When Roe v. Wade was upheld by the USSC in 1973, the GOP, the DEMS, and many others applauded the ruling.
     But the Christian Nationalists of the day, after many years and many focus groups, decided that abortion would be a good public policy issue from which they could raise lots of money if they could convince their followers that Jesus of Nazareth was against abortion. To do so would mean the Christian Nationalists would have to lie.
     The Christian Nationalists’ arguments use the word ‘child’ or ‘baby’ instead of the proper terms, embryo or fetus. They say, “Abortion is murdering a child.”
     To substitute the word ‘child’ for fetus is disingenuous rhetoric, and prohibited by the Bible too. Thou shall not bear false witness. In other words — Don’t lie. The Bible has no mention of abortion. Jesus never said a word about abortion. Abortion is not murder. A fetus is not a child, nor someone’s grandpa.
     There are strikingly horrific similarities between the Christian Nationalists in America and the Taliban in Afghanistan. Both want to ban abortion, ban gay marriage, reject science, teach only their religion in school, oppress women as second-class citizens, oppose vaccines, and oppose separation of church and state.
     Both are known to be arrogant, smug, unreasonable, willfully ignorant, and deadly violent too. (See anti-abortion extremist Paul Hill. Remember January 6?)
     Essentially, the reasoning found in Roe v. Wade is “viability” outside of the womb which has been determined to not be plausible during the first trimester. The Roe decision gives the freedom of choice to the woman and her medical professionals.
Roe also provides freedom of choice for all. If you don’t want to have an abortion, don’t have an abortion. That’s reasonable.
      Should we pass a Male Vasectomy Law? At the age of 13 all males in America must be vasectomized. When they are ready to responsibly father a child they may be permitted to have the vasectomy reversed after a thorough review by local politicians and certain clergy. Male lawmakers? You with me? Anyone? Of course not.
     Abortion is a private personal decision that should remain with women, doctors, and loved ones.
     Imagine a world where we criminalize a mother for a miscarriage. Are we headed there? Miscarriages happen naturally. Reminder: Women are also part of nature. Ask Mother Nature. Women must have the rights to protect and care for themselves as they determine.  
     An outrageous Texas Law, SB8, known as the Texas Heartbeat Act, was recently passed which essentially bans abortion after six weeks of pregnancy, a point in time when the woman may not even realize she’s pregnant. TX-SB8 also survived a cursory USSC review. SB8 turns citizen against citizen, allowing almost anyone to sue abortion providers and others who support a person attempting to obtain abortion care. The law offers the equivalent of a bounty to a citizen who sues anyone who offers information or referrals for abortion care, drives the patient to a facility, helps them pay for their abortion, or merely intends to do any of these things. If such a lawsuit is successful, the person who sued (aka, the Plaintiff) could be awarded $10,000 and court costs.
     In Florida, HB167, similar to the outrageous Texas law, has recently been introduced in the Florida House.
     Most people I know who have strong opinions regarding banning legally safe abortions in favor of returning to the coat hanger method, have never read Roe v. Wade. They rely on their church leaders for guidance. That’s willful ignorance!
     Links to Roe v. Wade,  TX-SB8, FL-HB167, and contact information for Florida representatives may be found below.
      Please take a moment to contact your representatives in Florida and advocate your opinion.
Roe v. Wade https://supreme.justia.com/cases/federal/us/410/113/#tab-opinion-1950137
TX-SB8, Texas Heartbeat Act https://legiscan.com/TX/text/SB8/2021
Florida HB167 (proposed) https://www.flsenate.gov/Session/Bill/2022/167
FIND YOUR FLORIDA  REPRESENTATIVE  
https://www.myfloridahouse.gov/Sections/Representatives/myrepresentative.aspx

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GOD’S RANT #9648: Bad Letters
       by God
OH DEAREST ME. How I pine fondly for the days of yesteryear when polemical, vitriolic, diatribes were offered with wit, charm, a sweet dash of sorghum, and a tad of sarcasm. The days when a mindful and clever response to such an affront would be seen by the upper class and the classless, the educated and the illiterate, the Kings and the jesters as a delightful touché.
      My sole gentle soul yearns for the days when a curmudgeonly recipient of such mental sharpness would recognize the tongue in one’s cheek. The days when insults and dubious expressions were presented with a considered array of fan and flury yet would not end a worthy exchange of human verbal dribble. The days when dexterous lingual surprises were met with suitable intellectual ability and emotional stability to maintain tasteful human connections.
     I have been around longer than forever. Sweary acronyms and initialisms have been around a long while too. However, I’ve learned when it comes to humans — it is often just another SNAFU¹.
     Some of my memorable summers were spent in Strafford and London to assist the prolific Jacobean writer, the Bard of Avon, the great William Shakespeare (anagram for “I am a weakish speller”), where he penned hundreds of brilliant, witty barbs often repeated with joyful jolly by those who heard them. Here’s a small sample of my favorites:

“Thou art a base, proud, shallow, beggarly, three-suited, hundred-pound, filthy worsted-stocking knave; a lily-liver’d, action-taking, whoreson, glass-gazing, superserviceable, finical rogue; one-trunk-inheriting slave; one that wouldst be a bawd in way of good service, and art nothing but the composition of a knave, beggar, coward, pandar, and the son and heir of a mongrel bitch.” (King Lear, Act 2, Scene 2)

“Thou art a boil, a plague sore, an embossed carbuncle in my corrupted blood.” (King Lear, Act 2, Scene 4)

“If you spend word for word with me, I shall make your wit bankrupt.” (Two Gentlemen of Verona, Act 2, Scene 4)

“Your brain is as dry as the remainder biscuit after voyage. (As You Like It, Act 2, Scene 7)

“You are as a candle, the better burnt out.” (Henry IV Part 2, Act 1, Scene 2)

These “21st Century” humans seem giddy when they accelerate an unfortunate degradation of effective human communication evident by the charge some humans believe “bad letters” stifle the overbearing, pedant, sneering recipient of “bad letters”. This lamentable conundrum remains a self-imposed human obstacle to collaborative progress.
      Are you familiar with the expression, “There are no bad words only bad letters”? If not, wait for it. Soon to be the howling rage amongst the fragile, timid, and indignant humans who would quit a conversation because “bad letters” were used rather than stay on point to seek reconciliation.
      WTF² Humans‽‽
      I remain astonished. WTAF³ is wrong with the GD⁴ MF⁵ humans? And by “human” I mean the English-speaking kind. Mostly the overly sensitve, ineffectual, pseudointellectual Americans who get tongue tied trying to put a meaningful sentence together on a visit to the laundermat while they salivate for another opportunity to display self-righteous indignation. The type of human who claims they’re “woke” but can’t take a joke. The easily frightened human who believe their time on Earth is horribly unpleasant because things do not go their way. The type of human who fights to change the world but not themselves. The zombified somnambulists who see injustices everywhere even though foggy eyes. You know, the sample of humans in America the Canter Poll⁶ says are increasing in number faster than the population of Gwagwalada.
      Even I (the one, the only, God of Imagination) cannot fathom how the popular Roman letters A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Z and sometimes Y are deemed offensive by the unenlightened.
      It is clear some humans still do not know what WTF references. Other humans understand what WTF references and are grateful for using only the letters. There are other humans who don’t understand why the letters WTF need to be used instead of the actual words. There are other humans who are offended by the letters and their usage.
      So, my dearest and lovely Mistakes, letters that replace English words deemed offensive by some humans are now offensive too? OMFG⁷? Get over yourselves for God’s sake. WTF is a harmless expression. The thoughts and messages accompanying the letterful expression are what matter.
      Remember the Wisconsin Tourism Federation? These folks thought their initials WTF were not suitable for tourism. I disagreed. I told them it could be turned into a marketing coup! Since humans rarely heed my suggestions the folks at the Wisconsin Tourism Federation changed their name to the Tourism Federation of Wisconsin. Quite cheesy, I’d say.
      I once hoped for a common-sense approach to the English language that  included entertainingly, witty use of grammar, syntax, spelling, phraseology, character, subject, and tone; without opposing petulance by juvenile self-appointed judges of effective communicative standards who seek the punitive for the speaker. My hope for levity within invectives amongst the humans is greatly diminished by the sense and insensibilities of the few. Typically FUBAR⁸.
      Well, WTF is one of my favorite American human expressions. Right up there with Jesus H. Christ and Holy S(***)⁹. Dubs TEEEE eff! Nothing Romeo would say, I’m sure.
      I am aware the letters used are matters of personal preference. I am not fond of the C-letter or the N-letter. But, WTF remains a favorite of mine! If only the low-key and high-strung would accept Earth is a small place where the shanannagins are usually not about you.
     I’m not encouraging a careless disregard for situational decency nor do I wish to minimize the significance of eloquent civil discourse. But when the recipient terminates a dialog because WTF or other renowned initialisms showed their serifs, the problem is with the recipient not the speaker.
     To communicate, one must be able to speak with an ability understand the topic and stay on topic. Effective communication seeks reconciliation. One can not effectively communicate when one must tip-toe around the ultrasensitive because they feel another offense coming their way they prefer did not exist.
      WTF should not be an impediment to dialog. To those who champion the disuse of “bad letters” may I offer an oberservation going back as far as the beginning of human fancy? Please remove your heads from your blind spots, loosen up, and let life pass through you. Still, it remains your choice when to meet the challenges of life as a brick wall, a gentle filter, or neither. 
     The rapidity by which humans are devolving into their prideful “Cancel Culture” will eventually yield the cancellation of humans themselves!
     I used to spit tabacky. Can’t do that anymore. Why? It’s disgusting!
     Oh dearest me. Too many humans have yet to cross the longest yard — the slave prison of their own mind.
     There are oodles of people who believe they are good yet suffer a deep “Woe is me” misery because they have good intentions but dopey actions.
      Huffy puffy indignation is a feeling born from a troubled mind regarding unfair treatment, blameworthy attributions, and a violation of percieved social norms. One purpose of indignation is to help aghast humans feel good about themselves. It provides the toe-tapping, hands on hip, nose in the air folks an imaginary lofty perch from where their sense of moral superiority may rest. It is facinating to watch how something as simple as a few spicy letters can create an intense emotional state of mind which leads to unpleasnt reactive indignation. To wallow with indignation over preferable reconciliation is a crooked path toward the declination of humans willfully serving humans. There is no trophy for those who suffer most.
     However, there is an abundance of affrontation within the human creation that beg for human service. “Bad letters” is not one of them.
     I am hopeful more humans will enbrace acceptance, understanding, celebration, camaraderie, trust, and a desire to be of service to the rest. Always remember, you fail when you quit. Rumors suggest some actually learn from this.
     Your one precious life. What will you do with your one precious life? Will calmness, forbearance, and patience triumph over annoying, acrimonious, aggrevation? Will indignation, anger, and a troubled mind give way to kindness, understanding, and love? The time is now to recognize joyful gratitude that is yours as you pass through life. Especially, if you are one of those kind and effortful souls reading another of my silly little rants. Anyway, it is up to the humans to decide how much exasperating indignation you wish to endure.
     I’ll end this wary numenesque rant with another quote from one of my preferred humans, you know, the great Bard himself, “For there is nothing either good or bad, but thinking makes it so.” – Hamlet: Act II, scene 2.
     FWIWTFGN¹⁰.

Struggling with BLII, “Bad Letter” Induced Indignation? Call: 1 (800) 555- WTAF (9823)

NOTES:
1. Situation Normal All Fucked Up
2. What The Fuck
3. What The Actual Fuck
4. God Damn
5. Mother Fucking
6. Predates Gallup
7. Oh My Fucking God
8. Fucked Up Beyond All Recognition
9. Censored
10. For What It’s Worth Time For God’s Nap

Got rants? Please direct them to this human: Ken Hurley

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