My Patriotic Billboard

Greatest man alive! Greatest President Ever!

Having posted my billboard here in Dallas, many came to wonder about and even suspect my motives. I finally agreed to an interview with a redneck radio DJ on a sports station that pretends not take itself too seriously but if you look hard enough you find that oftentimes they do. So it was funny to see his facade fade away when the reality of his burning opinions came to light.

Redneck Radio Guy: We've all seen this billboard you posted on our President and while it seems as if you're lauding him some people wonder if in fact it's a specious statement and a statement of sarcasm.

Harry Homeless: It is what it is.

RRG: OK, meaning what? Each person can take it however he likes?

HH: Why not?

RRG: That's fine but how do you see it? Is this some sort of backhanded way of giving our President the bird?

HH: If I died tomorrow would the meaning of the sign change? It's not my job to do other people's thinking for them. That's not what you're asking for is it?

RRG: Well, let me ask you this: Are you a supporter of our President?

HH: Of course I'm a supporter. I support everyone. Even Bin Laden.

RRG: [pause] I'm not sure I exactly understand that. So you support a guy who wants to destroy America. Someone who kills innocent women and children. You support someone like that?

HH: Sure I do. Like I said I support everyone. So do you.

RRG: Thank you, sir, but I'm a patriot! I don't want to see this country destroyed and as far as I'm concerned that S.O.B. can hang from the highest tree.

HH: Let me put it to you see this way: Give me your list of whose souls you don't want to see saved.

RRG: [pause] Well, of course, I'd like to see everyone's soul saved. Doesn't mean I want to see mass murderers going free.

HH: If you want Bin Laden souls saved then you are his supporter. I mean, what greater form of support can there be than saving a person's soul?

RRG: Right, but that doesn't mean you have to support everything they do.

HH: I agree totally - and remember you said that: that you can support someone without supporting everything they do.

RRG: So you don't agree with everything our President has done during this time of war?

HH: Of course not. I don't agree with everything I do much less anybody else. There's Jesus and then there's everybody else.

Radio Sidekick: [butting in] Wait a minute. Explain to me why you don't agree with everything you do. That's like saying you don't have freedom of choice or something. You can always do the right thing so I hope that you would agree with your own choices.

HH: Tell me why anyone sins.

RRG: What exact things are you saying you don't agree with that our President has done?

HH: I think where the confusion lies is in the definition of support. I can give you an example but you'll have to realize I'm speaking completely hypothetically and not trying to relate this back to any specific person or thing. I just want to make a point.

RRG: OK, shoot.

HH: Suppose you had friend who's a drug addict. In order to save him he has to admit there's a problem. But in the addict's eyes, those who tell him there is no problem are his supporters and those who tell him he has a problem are his enemies. So I ask you, who are his true supporters?

RRG: So you're calling the President a drug addict!

HH: Thanks for ignoring what I said about this being hypothetical.

RRG: Then what's your point then? Just go around criticizing everybody like you know everything?

HH: No, that's your job. My point is that if you view this President as a war criminal then to praise him is to condemn him and to criticize him is to save him.

RRG: Who are you to decide our President is a war criminal?

HH: Who are you to decide he's not? I make no decision. I simply seek out honest answers on where people stand. If you're telling me you disagree with my sign then fine. It's obvious then that you do not support the President.

RRG: I completely support our President, especially in a time of war, sir. Doesn't mean I have to think he's the greatest ever.

HH: Great! That's all I wanted to hear. I'll put you down as one of those who disagrees with my sign. Thanks a lot and remember: people love lists!

RRG: Hey now! I didn't mean it like that! Take me off that list! I love the President! I love my Daddy!!!



P.S. In the interest of presenting both sides, I offer this:

War Criminal! Greatest Traitor In History!

Tears of a Free Man

In days of prison
When iron ruled,
T'was all the same
If true or if fooled.

One wrong move
The Man will shoot,
The zombie mind
Renders good men moot.

But swing wide open
Did freedom's gate,
No visible chains
Except for my hate.

In fighting iron
I was a scholar,
Yet dead man's skills
Will pay no dollar.

I live the rage
Of my injustice,
I rejected love
To feel what lust is.

Wilderness dry
This free man roams;
Crying for love,
My body moans.

In bondage of man
I knew what to fight,
Walking free streets
Feet sink in my plight.

Good people asking:
For what is my time,
Having no purpose
They see as divine.

I plead to the heavens
Outstretching my arms,
Silence rebukes me
For previous harms.

For what is a salt
That has lost its season?
And what is a life
When stripped of reason?

Alone in the night
I wait for the dawn,
But the meaning of life
Is just a big con.

Morning's light
For me never comes,
The answers I try
Are never the ones.

They tell me I'm free
I can do as I wish,
But shut your damn mouth
And wash the damn dish.

Confusion is king
When wishing to live;
For living is dying
With nothing to give.

I fret in darkness
My sentence not done,
Freedom's not free
With love for no one.

Paranoia Will Destroy Ya

"One thing you can't hide, is when you're crippled inside."

I just had to be around people.

I woke from another bad dream with that sinking, end-of-the-world feeling. And in my little corner of the universe the winds blew only cold. In these moments I see no reason. But without the convenience of a timely death I decided to wash away the stench of despair. The only place with life this time of night is a QuikTrip down the road. I huddled in an inconspicuous spot along the periphery and absorbed the vicarious energy from afar. "Not too close, Harry, or they'll run you off!"

"King and Queens and guillotines, taking lives tonight.
"Screams of no reply."
In the shadows I reflected on my latest nightmare. Back in the room I grew up in where no one could know me, the radio played a sad ballad speaking my inner soul. It's funny when I see an authoritarian government mandating only displays of happiness - reminds me exactly of our household. I wanted to leave but there was no way I could open the door to my room with that song revealing my feelings. The radio knob fought me as I tried to shut it off. Familiar feelings of frustration and fury choked me in my struggle. I'd never be able to go if I couldn't silence that song! Finally I got it shut off, the panic passed and I was free to enter the ever-present despair waiting for me. "Quiet, Harry, or they'll know."

"I am the Lizard King. I can't do anything."
After Debby moved away my freefall got so out of hand my father ended up sending the cops over to my place. Knowing they were on their way, my only thought was to destroy the most incriminating piece of evidence. No way can they see this or the full weight of the law would come down on me. So I very carefully tore up my one picture of Debby and flushed it down the toilet. No, sir, no evidence of any feelings here. The cops left empty handed. "Whew! Close one, Harry."

"Love hurts, love scars, love wounds, and marks."
It was years before I realized I destroyed that picture for no reason. Things destroyed for stupid reasons is a theme for me. Meeting Debby forced me to face up to the fact I was completely unprepared and unable to have the kind of relationship I wanted. A murderous rage surged through me when hit me. I dearly wanted to kill my "parents". They had cheated me. I had cheated me. My name was not be written in the Book of Life.

"Close the door, put out the light. Nobody will be home tonight.
There is No Quarter."

I think I know what triggered this dream. In the losing war against boredom I picked a used Japanese novel written just after WWII. A couple of passages really got to me, throwing cold water on these drunken days of mine:

"In the manic phase, Kenzo would feel on top of the world, as if he were already a full-fledged medical doctor, a Ph.D., and the member of the faculty of a prestigious medical school. When he was depressed, though, he became convinced his talents were mediocre, his existence worthless, and his dissertation a total waste of time. The wisest thing, he would think at these emotional low tides, would be to throw himself under a train, because there was nothing for him to contribute, and no place in the world where he could ever feel at home."

"Not just criminals, but martyrs and celibates too; what they all have in common is deep feelings of guilt."

Oh shit, here come some useless teenagers. If they see me writing my feelings in this pad they’ll kill me. I’ve got to run.

Fearlessly Facing Facts

The warlord was crafty. Racing back to his castle with his retreating remnants, thoughts of ultimate failure fed his mind for the first time. The time was now and the winds of change were blowing across the country. Never before and never again would Japan be so wide open. Rules were for fools and fortune favored men of vision. But had he suddenly gone blind?

For a man who risks everything, one bad decision can wipe out all previous success. "Have I been too bold? Was I more interested in glory than winning? Is this feeling of destiny just an illusion after all?" The warlord had known setbacks - that was to be expected - but never defeat. As the dying rays of the day silhouetted the fleeing riders, this warrior knew he'd reached a point of no return.

Once inside the castle, he threw off his armor and cleared his mind. The choice was obvious: he must face the fact if this was the time to die or the time to live. His pursuers were too many to ward off even with the aid of the castle walls. But the crafty warlord knew the mind as well as the sword was a lethal weapon. With the authority of a prophet, he ordered his men to halt the closing of the castle and to open wide all gates. On the road to the castle, bonfires were to be lit to show the way in. Let us welcome our enemy, let us invite him in.

Horses reared in surprise at the sight of guiding fires leading to the castle's lowered drawbridge. Though victorious in the day's battle, the samurai were far from the main body of troops and they were suspicious of a trap, for the wiles of the warlord they chased were well known. No, they decided, they would not be so stupid as to fall for so obvious a stunt. Wiser, instead, to regroup and cut his head off another day.

But they never did.


This is the true story of Tokugawa Ieyasu as he retreated from the advancing Takeda forces. He had lost all but his wits but his wits were enough. He would survive that day to eventually become the supreme ruler of a newly united Japan. He became Shogun. For 250 years afterwards his descendants ruled the country - a legacy built on fearlessly facing facts.

The Looking Glass Lies

Both men paused before passing through the subway doors. Looking up and down and back again at one another each man saw his image reflected in the other. Same suit, same briefcase, same shoes, same hair - same everything! Were they long lost brothers found at last?

"This is freaky!" observed the first.

"Very freaky!" confirmed the second.

And even more was confirmed as they conversed. They both owned the same model of laptop ("This model is a bargain!" "I know!"), liked many of the same restaurants and even held the same job title: programmer/analyst. How could two strangers be so exactly alike?

"Doing a good job," emphatically spoke the first, "is about doing things right. No ego or politics or time wasting bureaucracy to get in the way. Do the job right - focus on that - and everything else will work out fine."

"Man, you're not kidding. It's about thinking - using your head. Do what's best for the situation regardless of any sort of preconceptions. It's all about the bottom line."

Looking eye to eye, viewpoints were expounded eye to eye. But an artificial world breeds artifical men and the looking glass can lie.


The first man was flying high. "Man, I love my job. It's a great feeling being useful, knowing what you do makes life better for others. Every morning I have a reason to get out of bed."

The second man was a dying sigh. "Every morning I have a reason to die. I'm suffocating with this shit. My life just slowly has all meaning stripped away from it..."

"Wow, that's brutal. You need a new job!"

"I need no job. They're all the same: death."

"That's a heavy load to carry. Maybe things will take a turn for the better."

"You can show me how to not need a job in this world? No, things are what they are and lying about it only makes it worse. The hands of the world are bloody and its eyes are blind with rage."

"Ya gotta have faith, man. My wife, my family - they mean the world to me."

"I spend all my spare time recovering from work. I am the Lizard King - my feet can never touch the earth or I'll be scorched to a cinder."

"But you seem so successful!"

"Who knows who I am. I'm just not this facade you see. While in this hell, I'll do my best to make it work because that is the law of men. But it's a fool's gold - there's no love in it. I'm just very, very tired."


No love means no future. With nothing left to say, the Flying Man and the Dying Man now peered upon one another as total opposites. As the subway doors opened, each wished the other luck and with an obliging blind eye pretended the conversation had never happened.

Time is the mortal enemy of all things artificial. Flying Man thrived and raised his children strong. Dying Man shrank in hollow hopelessness, a chained man. Like intersecting bullets, as time passed so showed their separate paths. The Flying Man lived forever and the Dying Man died long before his body. And yet they lived in a world that knew each only for his labors.

It's not the work that's important - God needs no field tilled. It's only what it does for your soul that counts. A world of sick souls has no choice but to implode - but I hear they're going to pass a law against that.

My "Lunatic Fringe" Video

BACKGROUND: STEVE - kicking and screaming on his way to salvation - and MORTY - the stone the builders rejected - have joined forces to embark on a mission to find out if life has more to offer than the hopeless hell deemed by Man. STEVE had been sentenced to the Factory Grind, mind numbing monotony enforced by the blackmail of facing life in the Alley. MORTY, having refused the judgment of men, was crippled with rage of having been trapped in the Alley for committing no crime. Together they find the courage to risk life and limb in hopes of escape.

Having come across many false hopes in the Land of Sir Real, they are reaching the edge of the Land with no place yet having a future.

The BACKDROP: An older ranch style house on the edge of a small city. It's warm, cozy and well lived in. A fireplace is going, as much for a utilitarian aspect as for aesthetics. Cut to a middle aged MOTHER - no better and no worse than anyone else, average in all aspects - hand washing and drying the dishes. She is neither annoyed nor enjoying this chore. It is simply something one does.

Scene 1: But her underlying irritation with her life is revealed when she hears a breakable break in the other room. We pass out of the kitchen and into the room with the fireplace to see a guilty little BOY standing in front of the shard pieces.

Scene 2: The MOTHER is scooting the boy out the door. The BOY has been dressed in winter clothes and is clearly not happy with what's transpiring.

MOTHER
Out you go! You're not breaking anything more of mine! Stay out there until you can learn to calm down!

BOY
But Moooom!

MOTHER
Out! You brought this on yourself! Your own decisions got you where you are.
Scene 3: As the boy scoots out into a tree filled yard that is merely a prelude to a full forest further on, we see the MOTHER framed in the doorway who suddenly realizes on some level the words she just spoke to her BOY were really words she has been silently chastising herself with for quite a while. She shuts the door on this thought.

The BACKDROP: Winter's fading light in a yard at the edge of all civilization. We feel the coldness and the looming inevitability of the coming darkness. There's nowhere to go.

Scene 4: The BOY tramps through some leftover snow around the house to the kitchen window. He's separated from his MOTHER and the warmth of a home. He spies her through the window as she has returned to what is now open drudgery. The BOY approaches the window.

Scene 5: Looking down from the roof, we see and hear the BOY matter-of-factly pleading his case.

BOY
But Mommy, [He finally gets to finish his sentence from when he was pushed out] it's cold out here.
Scene 6: The camera swivels and peers back towards the city, skimming over the rooftops to see the glow of distant hubbub in the dying light. But we are not going there as no little boy alone can either. The camera swivels once more towards the dark and ominous trees of the forest and makes a beeline going up and over the treetops. The camera races over the landscape, trying to catch a sun that has set. All signs of civilization disappear - the lights, the telephone poles, everything. We hear the opening eerie whistle of Lunatic Fringe, foretelling the destination of our journey.

With each guitar burst, we flash forward to a different face of the SEVEN MEN of the axe. Their grimacing faces reflect the clear light of a dying sunset, alluding to the fact the earth has not rotated to darkness on their landscape. The landscape is brutal, uneven and barren. It's the Sadlands. Each man carries a large, burdensome axe in a fashion reflecting each one's personality. A red glow of hate emanates from the heads, clearly hating the circumstance of the burdens they carry and the barrenness of their existence. Somebody's got to pay!

Here is what we see them chant:

"Seven Men of the Axe are we,
We chop all who disagree,
It is you we will deceive,
We will make you to believe,
And if we don't see eye to eye,
We will chop and watch you die."
The Seven Men:

PRIEST OF DOOM: Arms crossed over his axe, pressed flat against his breast. To him the axe is holy and kills in righteous fury.

CARE-NOT LUMBERJACK: Drags axe head along the ground. A man who chops for chop's sake.

MASOCHISTIC WARRIOR: Fanatic who holds his axe with his teeth, Rwanda madman

RUTHLESS BUSINESSMAN: Smiles up front, axe in back.

BLIND SOLDIER: Sees not and knows not who he kills. It's the orders that count. Carries his like a rifle.

WILLFUL SLAVE: Axe carried across his shoulders. He's bitter at having not chosen freedom. Make him Arab.

BOLD EXECUTIONER: Perhaps the scariest of all. Society's sanctioned murderer holds his axe held high ready to chop at a moment's notice

As the guitars start in full force, the camera catches up to them and we know all signs of civilization are long gone. It passes over them and circles them and zooms in on them. They are chanting something in unison but it's not a happy song. We cannot hear it but we fear it because it's plain to see they are in their own little world and care nothing for the rest of it. Each one tells his story of terrorism as we focus in.

[Order to be determined]

PRIEST OF DOOM: Burning people at the stake. Gothic church symbols. Jesus on the cross, implying these are his crucifiers, not his followers.

BLIND SOLDIER: Nazi raids. When we hear the words "final solution" we see a stark black and white picture of Dachau against a dying sky.

RUTHLESS BUSSINESSMAN: Evicting families, followed by homeless families. Factory Grind shots.

RAGGED SLAVE: Walks right by needy, never helping, always playing the martyr.

CARE-NOT LUMBERJACK: Environmental disaster. As he rapes himself he rapes the world around him.

Eventually, STEVE and MORTY see the approaching marauders. As it dawns on MORTY what they are doing, he at first grins and then outright laughs. Nothing amuses MORTY more than those who so clearly do not do what they want to do. STEVE, of course, is terrified as feels his own guilt and instinctively knows they'll blame him for their unhappiness - something he has done many times with Debby. One by one the SEVEN MEN form a circle around Steve, drilling into him with accusatory eyes.

Lunatic fringe
I know you're out there
You're in hiding
And you hold your meetings
We can hear you coming
We know what you're after
We're wise to you this time
We won't let you kill the laughter.

Lunatic fringe
In the twilight's last gleaming
This is open season
But you won't get too far
We know you've got to blame someone
For your own confusion
But we're on guard this time
Against your final solution

We can hear you coming
(We can hear you coming)
No you're not going to win this time
We can hear the footsteps
(We can hear the footsteps)
Way out along the walkway
Lunatic fringe
We know you're out there
But in these new dark ages
There will still be light

An eye for an eye;
Well before you go under...
Can you feel the resistance?
Can you feel the thunder?
The BACKDROP: The sun has set and risen once more. STEVE, frayed and broken, has spent the night in living horror. Somewhere, MORTY is eating popcorn and watching in amusement.

STEVE
"Alright!" he screams, "Just go ahead and do it! Chop away, I don't care!"
The circle tightens. "But before I go, I'm going to say one thing: You whackos-" STEVE rears back with all the spite he could summon, "You people look like the biggest bunch of freaks I've ever seen! What's wrong with you? Not a one of you carries his axe like a normal person!"

The protests are immediate.

WILLFUL SLAVE
"How else can I carry it?" whines the slave.

BLIND SOLDIER
"I carry it the only proper way," defends the soldier.

PRIEST OF DOOM
"Mine is carried God's way," the priest proselytizes.

RUTHLESS BUSSINESSMAN
"Only a fool carries it out front," secretly speaks the businessman.

CARE-NOT LUMBERJACK
"What difference does it make?" the lumberjack wants to know.

MASOCHISTIC WARRIOR
"I carry it like a true warrior," says the warrior, cutting his mouth.

BOLD EXECUTIONER
"Mine is the best way to chop!" proclaims the executioner, who had never been questioned before.
[A livid and vigorous argument ensues among the Axe Men. It is the politics of insanity - no one is right. Steve crawls out through their legs. He gets up and meticulously brushes off his worn garments.]

[MORTY's happiness openly gushes as he approaches.]

MORTY
"That's the problem with terrorists," he cracks. "They always worry too much what other people think!"

Ikiru (To live)

"How can I go forward when I don't know which way I'm facing?"
-John Lennon
Ask any homeless person what they want most in an immediate sense and the answer might surprise you. It's not love or money or even hope - those are unthinkable luxuries meant only for others. No, the answer is 'rest'. There is no rest from your fellow man. The draining weariness that ages street people so quickly gives no quarter. I spend all my time now searching for rest.

The 'rest' issue is racking my health and I have to consider any option available. I could try doing a straight job again. I have a chance for a janitorial job which would allow me to then stay in a cheap hotel. I could hide in my little room and peer out into the world through my invisible bars. My own Trump Tower. But would that bring rest?

Problem is, I want to live too badly. I can't force myself into godawful jobs any more. In my novel I spoke of those wounded by the Factory Grind. Some physically, some mentally. The mentally dead will say any job is a good job because they have lost the capacity for boredom - and therefore lost the capacity to contribute. The mentally twisted will say a job must be taken no matter how much one suffers - these are people to whom their children will never give true love. So I know what the insane have to say.

It's a constant line I walk between the logistics of living and the desires of life. The ebb and flow between the two are continually at odds within me. I never find the answer. Sometimes I think my life is lived only in theory, a giant lab experiment. It's so confusing to figure out which way to go. I must decide soon on this job or it too will be gone with the wind. I just can't decide right now. Right now, I need to rest.