Tender ears, hear the quiet.
Enjoy the sound of nothing.
Let it surround your heart and
soothe your soul.
Swim within its peace –
drown within it if you like –
and avoid the din of this hateful world.

Blackness take me,
void this life and memory –
Pray thee God, oh thou great,
my Lord, my Master,
my Tormentor –
Release my soul from this cocoon!
This cacophony of evil!

And I will repent forever more,
for whatever it is that brought me here.
Except that to suffer fools….
For those who suckle the witch’s breast,
should stay here forever –
In this Purgatory we call life….

Hedge Apple

A hedge apple laid on the road…
It’s green-ness contrasting the black tarry pitch.
It’s weight too great for the limb to hold,
stretched down, and down, and down –
until finally the weight was too great.
The hedge apple snapped –
Falling, falling to the ground.
And mother branch returned to her proud position.
Almost.  But not quite springing back to her glory.
Just a little bounce robbed from her gate –
her stance against the wind a little less worthy.
But there she stayed to shelter her little hedge apple.
To wait for him to find his own soily patch,
where he can root and grow and grow.
Another year, another stretching sag,
another little hedge apple fallen…
and on and on.
And now mother branch hangs so low,
misery and pain her only friends…
Waiting to snap off herself – to fall to
the ground and give fertilizer to what
should have been her children.
But they aren’t there.
Because we thought it was fun to smash them in the street.



Black darkness swallows whole my innards –
this life of flowers and bees and persimmon trees –
constantly adorned by bluest sky and puff puff clouds –
with rolling waters so cool and clear –
sighting God’s love far but yet near.

And we, those cast from heaven,
to walk the soil of years’ past shit.
To toil and grasp hands in filth,
to plant a seed of new life born.
And sprouting from this cesspool death,
is God’s beauty beyond the norm.
A green leaf pops up through,
and we attend our Sunday pew –
to give thanks for life come anew –
and sustenance which we can chew.

Oh God, oh God, your plan is clear –
that we be damned year by year –
sentenced to hunger and pain of life,
suffering intolerance and radical strife,
to bring a war – to bring the blood –
to kill a man for words lacking love.

Am I Cain or am I Able?
Living for love or for the sabre?
To which of these do I owe my fate
– being destined to walk upon this earth?
If Cain were sentenced here –
this life of toil and crime –
it would certainly make sense –
But why Dear God did Able come –
What was his offense?

If misery could be given a name,
I would call it Life.
As the only relief that I can find,
is my dearly beloved wife.

Thank you for the most wonderful thing I know.

White Cops and Black Robbers

God wants us to be happy.  And for the better part, most of us are happy most of the time.  At least those of us snuggled in our air conditioned homes with refrigerators are full of food – yeah, we are mostly happy.

When are we unhappy?  When our child gets lost in the mall and we are scared to death?  When a loved one passes away and we are in horrible mourning?  When we are in imminent danger of dying ourselves, like during a heart attack?  Or when someone has accosted or robbed us?  That’s when we usually call to God, in that moment of grief.  In other words, the only time God hears from most of us is when the shit hits the fan.

Cops are like that too.  They only get called upon when the shit is hitting the fan.  And when they respond they have no idea of what the situation is.  It could be a simple yelling match between a man and wife or an active shooter scene.  The police officer has no idea.  He has to assess the scene in a matter of mere seconds.  Which is why the police officer is given the authority to instruct people at scenes.  Disobeying the police officer is not just illegal, but it is a huge marker showing that the non-compliant person is probably going to become violent.  And when he shows signs of violence the use of force continuum goes into effect.

Most people do not know about the use of force continuum.  That is the practice that allows the officer to use one step higher force than the force an offender is using.  If an offender is acting belligerent then the officer may handcuff him.  If he resists being handcuffed and fights the officer, the officer may use non-lethal force such as pepper spray, baton, or Tasers to incapacitate the offender.  If the offender approaches an officer with a knife or other deadly weapon then the officer may resort to the highest level of force, deadly force.  That would include shooting the suspect until the threat has ceased.  Among other things.  Like choking or hitting ther offender in the head with a baton.  When deadly force is in play, and the officer is in fear of his own life or someone elses, he may use any force necessary to stop the threat.

Most of us go to our little cubicles or non-dangerous jobs everyday and don’t have to think about the things that police officers do.  They don’t go to homes like OJ Simpson’s to socialize and have hoighty-toity parties.  They go there because he just brutally murdered two people.  Police officers only see the worst of the worst of our society, and those who have never been an officer have no idea how incredibly terribly heinous these offenders are.

Here’s some stats:  According to the DOJ stats for 2012-2013, white violent offenders committed only 3.6% of their crimes against black victims.  That does not show any kind of a trend toward white racist murders in our country.  The number of white police officers who actually did commit murder against black victims is far below 3.6%, which tells me that the selection process for police officers is working.

Alternatively, violent black offenders committed over 40% of their crimes against other blacks, while simultaneously committing another 38% against white victims.  What does that say?  I don’t even know how to compute that except to say race doesn’t matter to them either – but they are far more prone to commit crime.

In fact although the black population in America comprises only about 20% of the population, 60% of all prisoners are black.  We can pussyfoot around and say this or that, their childhood was horrible, they never had a chance because the “man” held them down, or white people are racists and that’s why more black people get put in prison.  Or we can be honest and say that these black offenders grew up without fathers and have no sense of right and wrong.

When I hear Democrats like Hillary Clinton and Barrack Obama blame white police officers for shooting black offenders I just want to puke.  They are pandering for black votes.  And after 40 years of having the black vote, black repression has never been greater.  The Democratic party has never done anything for black Americans except tell them the other guy hates them.    78% of black children born in Chicago since 2003 were born to single women.  That is the President’s home town.  Is that how they are taking care of blacks?  Is that how “black leaders” are leading black families?

It doesn’t sound like leading to me.  It sounds like absolute chaos.  And when I hear BLM members shout “Kill Whitey” during a riot where a black officer killed an armed black suspect – it only confirms to me that chaos is the order of the Democratic way.

Stop throwing law and order under the bus for votes.

New DOJ Statistics on Race and Violent Crime

An “H” Food for Sweetie

Hominy bibbidy bobbidy –
Hominy bibbidy boo –
If I had a nickel –
I’d spend it all on you!
And if that nickel could buy a kite,
I’d fly it just as high –
as you make me feel –
each and every night –
So here is some hominy,
my bibbidy bibbidy boo –
I don’t really like it –
so I’ll save it all for you….
And if you need an “H” food,
to put across your lips,
I might suggest some hummus,
’cause it’s really good with chips!
Perhaps some ham covered in honey,
or halibut with horseradish sauce –
could complete an “H” food melody –
That could easily make you floss….
Hamburgers, headcheese,
hearts and pickled heels,
herbs and huckleberries,
heros and banana peels!
Bananas don’t rhyme.
They don’t have too.
They’re better than everything except the hamburger.
Bananas should be an “H” food.

Immigrants Are Good For Us

Immigrants are good for the United States.  Population, family size, and social nets are the reason.  To put it into context we need to look at the historical evolution of the American family.

From 1790 to 1955 U.S. Family sizes – or number of residents in any given home – were predominantly from 4 to 7 persons (or more).  Then there was a shift in 1955.  Since that year the predominant family size has been only 2  persons.  Why the change?  The most popular belief is that social networks like Medicare and Social Security (instituted in the 1940s) are the reason our family size has decreased.   We no longer need to house Grandma and Grandpa in the spare bedroom.  They can now afford to live comfortably in retirement communities or nursing homes.

Also the number of children in any given family has decreased.    The actual number of births peaked in 1957 with an average of 3.77 children per family.  In 1965 a whopping 4 out of 10 Americans were under the age of twenty.  But today the average number of children per family is hovering slightly above 1.5 children.

But how does that relate to today’s immigrants being good for us?

The answer is very simple math.  All social nets in America are a numbers game.  The more pay-ers you have – the more pay-ees you can afford and also the systems can give more quality care.  When family size decreases so too does the number of pay-ers.  It’s not rocket science.

With a decreasing population we are facing a bankruptcy in the social net systems.  The influx of workers from Mexico and elsewhere is exactly what we need to keep the status quo.  Which is what we Americans have become accustomed to doing, isn’t it?  Living life large?  Even if it means going into substantial debt?

Immigrants are a necessary part of the status quo.  So either give up the status quo and finally pay your share, or stop complaining about it.  The immigration problem will never go away because they are needed, no matter what issues the politicians thump their speeches with.    And amnesty for immigrants to become paying members of our system will always be necessary too.

All arguments to the system are simply red herrings.  Let’s debate the real issues and not get sidetracked by things like immigration.


Americans’ ideal family size is smaller than it used to be


That’ll Do Pig

One of my favorite lines ever comes from a children’s movie called “Babe,” where a farmer was blessed beyond any account with the most amazing little pig named Babe.  This pig did something so dear to the farmer’s heart that it made the farmer  happier and more proud than he had ever been before in his entire life.  After the pig completed this task the farmer was so overwhelmed that the only words that could come to his otherwise silent world was “That’ll do pig.”

And Babe knew that was the greatest compliment one could ever receive from the farmer.  (Though out of context it would seem a little rude.)

My lovely wife Teresa wrote a poem for me the other day and it got me thinking – how could I – in my weird writing style – give her the greatest compliment I can think of?  It was a no brainer.  I barely remember the world before Teresa and think that I have never been happier. So this is installment one of what I consider the rest of my life:

Against the meadow green stood the bull fervent gray –
Snorting his clouds of puff and doom –
Yet another winter has come to stay
as he assessed his daily gloom…

Slowly he watched the sun go down,
feeling his aged plight.
forgetting dawn would come around,
leaving him forever night.

And so lament became his way,
knowing his mind is set –
expecting nothing from this fray –
that he couldn’t just forget.

For years he tried to make such sense –
but found to no avail –
still stuck in this barbed wire fence,
with his lone struck heart a-wail…

“Why dear God, is this my fate?”
He cried up to the moon.
“That life should begin so late –
with mine but a lonely croon?”

But then sun broke sky on eastern wall,
and suddenly he could see –
that a lovely vision through it all –
had stood by his knee.

“What such loveliness this?”
he asked, with patience in his eyes.
“It is I!” cried dear miss –
to his great surprise!

“But why are you here?”
he asked through his heart…
Not knowing or thinking
they’d ever been apart..

“Why would you stand by me,
with nothing more than what I be?”
She just shook her head and then she said
“Because I love you silly!”

So now the bull can’t remember when
he was ever left alone.
For within her eyes and precious touch
was the true essence of home!

In that pasture through ensuing years,
no matter how small or big –
It could often be heard on quiet nights –
“That’ll do, my little pig!”

I love you Teresa…..