Godliness 101

Der Perfessor was in:
Today, class, we will concentrate on cleaning up the sad state of modern music. I was driving the other day with my two young, darling children and I was struck by the extreme negativity and vulgarity of a nearby vehicle. The lyrics blaring out of this vehicle literally said: "Shout! Shout! Shout! Shout at the devil!" Now I ask you: are these the words we want to expose to our children?

We must instill morality! Drive it into them, pound it into them, instill it any way we can. Our very future depends upon this. So I have come up with three solutions to this particular lyric as an example of what can be done:

1. Shout out the devil.
2. Run from the devil.
3. Shout at the savior.

Any one of these three sends a more positive message to our young ones. The last one is my favorite as it places their minds upon our savior. If we can focus their minds correctly and turn their hearts to God, we can turn this world into the place God intended. Isn't that some good news!

I have come across many, many more examples of vulgarity to be cleaned up. The assignment for today is to take out the vulgarity and take back our kids! From my sanctimonious search I have created what I'm sure is just a fractional list of items to be fixed. I'm sure you'll find the first item amusing as there truly is an album entitled "Highway to Hell". "Highway to Hope" is my suggestion but feel free to come up with your own. I'll be quite excited to see your slogans!

The professor twinged as Timmy the Twit raised his hand. "Yes, Timmy the Twit."

"Are you for real??"

"Quite real, Twit. I can not underestimate to you the value of the messages we send to our children! It's imperative we show them the way."

"Oh - so what kind of message does being a self-righteous hypocrite send them?"

Better Dead Than Red

"If a man hasn't discovered something that he will die for, he isn't fit to live."
-Martin Luther King
Never thought I would be longing for the good ol' days of the Red scare. The Commies were coming to take away our rights, our freedoms and worst of all, our goodies. "Better dead than Red!" was the rallying cry. We were a nation of Thomas Paines. Alas, we have shriveled into a nation of cowards. "Better Red than dead!" is the cry now. And they call themselves patriots.

With the latest plot upon our airplanes, once again the terrorists are laughing themselves silly as we chase our tails. "No, grandma, you can't bring your shampoo on the plane. We might all die!" Toothpaste and lotion and cream, oh my! It's hard to be hysterical and look smart. But, ya know, all the security and scrutiny and whatnot is sort of exciting. We could die at any moment! Eh, cheaper than a roller coaster.

"My Daddy is a good daddy." No one wants to believe their daddy is a Commie. "Surveille me! Surveille me!" We are like the know-it-all kid in class, raising his hand to be picked for approval. I heard a fear monger on TV proclaiming either we give up our civil rights or planes will be crashing everywhere. See? Civil rights are the enemy, not the terrorists. I'm surrounded by Commie traitors.

"We must learn to live together as brothers or perish together as fools."
-Martin Luther King
I'm betting on the fool's fate for us. Yet the way we are made is to want to live as brothers. But everyone tells me we can't do as we want. Too impractical. And I'm just so naive not to understand that they say in their sophisticated adult voice feeling proud of their alleged understanding of the world. Dolts. What's going on now is impractical. Living as brothers is not.

An Offer You Can't Refuse

When such a person hears the words of this oath, he invokes a blessing on himself and therefore thinks, "I will be safe, even though I persist in going my own way." This will bring disaster on the watered land as well as the dry. The Lord will never be willing to forgive him; his wrath and zeal will burn against that man.
-Moses; Deuteronomy 29:19-20

Hey, Jude, don't make it bad,
Take a sad song and make it better
-Beatles


We are the engineers of our own destruction. But it doesn't have to be that way, does it? I put this to you, a sort of written rorschach test: The world has the means and resources to feed itself, so why don't we?

A Man of Gold

The Man of Gold was out of gold. Lying vexed on his back on the floor of his secret mine, shockwaves of reality reverberated within. His heaving chest belied the growing panic. The idea of no more gold was just...unthinkable - and yet it was. Oh, he knew things would come to this one day - just not this day. Weaving in and out of reality, he imagined his lack of a future. He had bribed them all. Wife, kids, community, the world. They loved him for his gold. It was so much easier than facing himself. One little nugget and their faces would light up with joy. He never got that look on his own. Now, after all these years, time came to face the mirror. "Who will love me now?" Riding high on the gold, the good times had been many. All his defeciencies bought and paid for. He lost all interest in who he was - so had everyone else. So hard to stop running once started. Seduced by the gold, he became the seducer. "What sort of monster am I now?" Preaching words echoed back to him, declaring a man's worth couldn't be determined by his gold. The seething hatred rushed in once more at the memory of the preacher's proclamation. So obvious now who the true enemy was...oh, to reverse time and go back and do what he wanted. The beautiful lie was gone...rooms empty of laughter...howling winds of hell...faded dreams of love...a thousand tears never cried...a thousand words never spoken...his bleeding soul...dispassionate eyes watched his hand reach for his death gun..."Fuck you too, God" But on this day the angels rejoiced. Ding, dong, the lie was dead! And they sang to him this song: "You know its been a long, long road, "Since I packed up and left on my own. "And I can carry a heavy load, "Just trying get back to her heart. "Find your way back. "Find your way back to her heart." And thus he started the long journey back, the years of gold a waste.

Fisher of Mens' Souls

"Playing with human lives - gambling with human lives - as if you thought yourself to be a God."
Nurse Ratched, speaking of her own sins in "One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest"
It took awhile afore I trusted my eyes. I didn't see 'em at first - didn't want to. But the mores I focused in on 'em, the clearer they gots be. And they was everywheres! "How can this be?" I wonders to meself. "I cants be the only one seeing this, but thar aint no one else actin' like they sees a thing!" So I goes ups to one real careful like and touches it to see if it for real.

"Hey you!" the Man says. "Stop that! And don't you ever fucking do that again! You hear me, boy?"

I's heard him. I's heard him real good - the asshole. But I gots my answer. Theys hard to see but if ya look you's can see 'em: fishing lines, all stuck up into people. Stuck in there good too with them little tiny hooks. And like the Man said, you's don't wanna touch one of 'em cuz it hurts them bad when ya do! But it's when I started seeing such things that alls my troubles started.


Well, naturallys I's don't want no hooks in me. An' iffen ya ask me, I don't think no man woman or chil' ever born has wanted them things in 'em! Tain't natural! I knows this for a fact. So I starts rippin' out all them hooks and got them lines offa me and it felt good. It felt likes a man breathin' again and walkin' again like a man should. It what God intended for us all, I knows. Shoot me dead, won't change me mind!

But then all them people what still got them lines in 'em got riled up at me sumpthin' fierce! "What you doing, boy? Who do you think you are?" They all's saying I gots to put them lines back in. But I was thinkin' like, Who does you think YOU is tryin' to put them lines in me! That there is what's we's call gall! These peoples is plum outta their minds and that's what they calls normal.


That's when they starts takin' all my stuff, sayin' I don't deserves no car, no house, no clothes, not even a scrap of food! Them's some mighty righteous people that, sayin's this is how they makes things work and God's will and a whole bunch of crap not worth repeatin'. They calls me "traitor" and "destroyer", sayin's I'm gonna kill this good thing they gots goin'. Little ol' me's gonna do all that. That tells ya sumthin, don't it?

I sher am feelin' awful alone after that. Ever'one gives me the evil eye when they sees me on account I got no stuff. They figgers I must got no hooks in me and starts to hatin' me. They's all in on it! I's just wanna cut all them lines I see and sets folks free like I is, then we could be happy. They's ain't gonna survive with all them lines in 'em. Time comes when they gonna be ripped to shreds. But they figgers it the other ways around!


Then I do finds this other that got no hooks in him! I asks him about that 'n' he tells me he how he got down in his head real bad and couldn't take them lines in him no more. But then he tells me he wants to get his head right so he can take havin' them lines back in him again and gets his house 'n' car back. I shakes ma head. I run across these other folks sayin's they's wants to help, tellin' me they's can "fix me" so I wants them hooks back up in me. They sez I'm sick. I just shakes ma head.

So what I's don't get is why folks thinks them lines is good for 'em?? Preachin' man goes on about how them God's lines, sayin's they's holy. He makes 'em feel better cuz their conscience is tellin' 'em sumthin' diff'rent. They tells me they gots their money line 'n' insurance line 'n' gun line 'n' law line 'n' so many other lines they just be inventin' alls the time. Sayin's they cants live without them lines and iffen them hooks tears 'em up, tis the way God meants for us to be. But I already knows the truth is just the opposite.


Then I figgers, them lines they gotta leads somewhere. Someone's trickin' all these folks, makin' 'em do likes they told or tellin' em they's gonna get them hooks ripped out and their flesh right along with it! So I's finds me a rich fella - he's gots like a hunnerd lines in him - an' I starts followin' 'em till I sees they all starts leadin' to the same spot. There's this hole in da ground an' you gots more lines leadin' down there than yous can count in ten lifetimes.

So I's jumps down dis hole to sees what I could find. That's when I understands.

"Oh, it's you."

----------------------------------------------------------------------
This is my small homage to Ken Kesey's masterpiece.

Portrait of the Artist as a Fucker

There was a bitter man, sitting on a bitter bench, on a bitter day. His scribbling mind scribed scribbling words, hunched over his scribbling pad. And from his poison pen flowed poison ink into this dreamy world, not hearing the songs surrounding him.

"The sun is up,
"The sky is blue,
"It's beautiful,
"And so are you."
He saw them. Hand holding, faces laughing, eyes dancing with joy. All with shiny bright futures, exploring the wonderland only two can share. He heard the excited talk of dreams and hopes and ambitions. Things he would never see. "Bastards!" he sulked. "I hate you all!" But no one listened at all.

"Let me be there in your morning;
"Let me be there in your night;
"Let me change whatever's wrong and make it right."
Empires of industry gleaned from on high. Fancy cars with fancy women with an appetite for more. Business was their god and it let them die well. Raggedy man envied their ways. "Destroyers!" he pronounced. "You have no soul!" But no one listened at all.

"Think I'll spend eternity in the city,
"Let the carbon and monoxide choke my thoughts away,
"And pretty bodies help dissolve the memories,
"But they can never be what she was to me."
The nightmare planet raged on. Soon the Beast would control all - and it would be called good. The System was breaking down but the System would not change. Fear infested eyes knew they were alone. "Fuckers!" he complained. "Don't you ever learn? We're going to lose everything!" But no one listened at all - not even himself.

"Nowhere man, don't worry,
"Take your time, don't hurry,
"Leave it all till somebody else lends you a hand."

"Hopefuller"

"I believe the results of focusing our attention and energy on teaching children to read and having an education system that's responsive to the child and to the parents, as opposed to mired in a system that refuses to change, will make America what we want it to be — a more literate country and a hopefuller country."
actual quote by the sitting President

One of my favorite all time movies is "Being There", Peter Sellers final great masterpiece. A slow witted man spends his entire life in an estate garden, tending his chores and watching TV. One day the estate's owner dies and Chance the gardener is thrust out into the world. But since all he knows of life is his former garden, he answers questions about the world with references to gardening. These are taken to be metaphorical gems of genius and soon Chance is whisked into the limelight as a man whose viewpoints are eagerly sought.

Made in 1979, the film was a harbinger of the coming dark tide of conservatism and its worship of self-serving ideals. No one sees Chance for who he is because no one sees themselves for whom they are. Chance never seeks to deceive. When he tells them he can't read it's brushed aside with, "Of course you can't! No one has the time!" After achieving celebrity status, who or what Chance is no longer is relevant. If Chance is a fool then we all are - therefore he can't be.


The film ends with the conservative power brokers discussing who would best suit them as the next candidate for President. All agree: Chance the gardener. Of course, all this is a satire of something too absurd to happen in "real life." Or is it? No person who uses the word "hopefuller" should ever be placed in a position of public trust. And just as with Chance, his defenders brush aside such remarks by creating a fantasy world of their own making. These fantasies will come back to haunt us in horrifyingly tragic ways. Don't believe me? Good, because I - like the President - am content to let history be my judge.