photo by Sheri Dixon

Sunday, January 26, 2014

Rest In Peace, Marlisse and Family

So they're finally letting that poor woman die in peace. The pregnant one. The one who would've died weeks ago if not for the fact that she was pregnant and the pro-lifers all had a big ol' snit fit because THE BABY!!!

First of all 'the baby' was 14 weeks from being an egg and a cell at the time of the mother's collapse from an embolism. There's no way he/she would've survived outside the mother.

Now, at 23 weeks, tests have determined that the baby has grave deformities- lower extremities, heart, water on the brain...and would not survive to term.

This wasn't a case of the family hoping beyond hope that 'a miracle' would happen and Marlisse (the mother) would suddenly get better...from being brain dead. The family wanted her removed from life support weeks ago. The family had to hire an attorney to fight for their right to do what Marlisse and her husband had talked about if either one of them were in a state of non-viability- a death that's quick and dignified.

The Pro-Lifers decided they wanted none of that and denied the Munoz family any control over their own lives.

Here's my question to you, Pro-Lifers-

Ya'll are also generally very anti-government intrusion- you want to be left alone and FREE to make your own individual choices. Does something about this scenario not smack of the very opposite of that to you? Anything? Seriously?

Also- I have had actual conversations with pro-lifers and asked, "What if your daughter were pregnant and for whatever reason it was determined that unless her pregnancy were terminated she would DIE? Whose life would you choose?"

Without pause, they answer that they would pray about it with their daughter but they would LET GOD DECIDE.


Seems to me that God decided two months ago that Marlisse and her unborn baby should be in heaven.

And you assholes decided you knew better.

Shame on you. May your God have mercy on your souls.

Because I don't.

Thursday, January 16, 2014

What to Do When You Have the Flu

Oh, I know, I know all the 'drink plenty of fluids and get lots of rest' routine, and I did that- I promise. Just ask my family. I turned into a complete slug for about three weeks.

But at the same time...I finished the next installment of "Wyrd Justice- Weekends in Dystopia". This one's total gun porn, ya'll. And I mean that in the best possible way. Would I ever lie to you?

Wyrd Justice- Weekends in Dystopia:
Book Four- Don't Forget the Bullet Lube


Time seemed to stand still, just like in the movies.

He could hear the blood pounding in his own ears; imagined the never-ending coursing of the red fluid through his veins from one end of his body to the other, felt the pumping of his heart pushing it onward for another round, ever onward.

He wanted to remember this moment forever- the way the sunlight filtered and flashed through the leaves of the trees, turning everything in the forest into glitter and disco, simulated slow motion.

This was it.

All the years of training and practicing, thousands of rounds of ammo spent at the Range, and it all came down to this one shining moment.

A shadow fell over his thoughts just briefly, the very briefest of doubts…was this the right thing to do?

He shook his head in disgust with himself. This was not the time for thinking, and he was not a thinking man, no how.

He was Tig Carroll, born and raised right here in these woods, just like every generation before him were.
Short and wiry, lean and spare, Tig was the absolute spitting image of every other Carroll in the area, ever.

None of them had ever been accused of being big thinkers.

Good workers, hard drinkers, devout church-goers (They’d made a deal with the Almighty years ago- they’d attend church with their wimmen-folk on Sunday if He looked the other way the other days of the week. So far, so good), and all of them tits deep in the culture of the bible belt- the gun culture.

Tig felt the cool rough bark of the Loblolly pine against his cheek, his chest, his leg...steadying him for the shot.
He inhaled the good clean aroma of pine and sand, water and heat of the air that had filled his lungs for all of his 34 years- he’d never taken a breath outside of this county.

This was it.

He snugged the rifle butt even closer in than it already was, calming at the familiarity of it.
Out of all his collection, this was the one he’d chosen for today- because what other one would have been better for a stealth mission such as this?

Stealth was the name of the game with the BAR LongTrac Stalker.

This rugged and powerful auto-loading rifle was capable of delivering magnum-level power with pinpoint accuracy.
From its matte black alloy receiver and hammer-forged barrel to its multi-lug bolt, this BAR was ready to put rounds right on target over and over again, without pause.

The BAR LongTrac Stalker was the hunting rifle that set the bar for every other autoloader on the planet.

There was movement up ahead- his quarry came into sight, and Tig felt the pleasurable stirring in his loins that always preceded pulling the trigger.

That was only natural, right?

He pushed back the last shred of doubt and took a deep breath. This had to be done- the country was going to hell in a hand basket and this was the only thing that would fix it, no matter anyone’s personal feelings on the matter.

The President said so. The Preacher said so. God said so…according to the President and the Preacher.

He was a proud American and a good Christian and it was time.

This was it.

He sighted in on his prey, who just then turned his head and looked directly at him, without seeing him, and it registered just for a second that it was like looking into a mirror.

As he squeezed the trigger, Tig heard the voice of his old Sunday school teacher, Ms. Libby buzzing in his ear- lining up all the boys for a photograph and clucking, “You Carroll boys all look exactly alike, cut from the same cloth and all peas in a pod…”

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Tuesday, January 7, 2014

If No Man is an Island, What're you Doing in a Bunker?

OK, Awesome Survivalist Preppers- Where do the following phrases come from? One ya'll live by, and one ya'll despise.

"God helps those who help themselves."

If you said, "the Bible" you are absolutely positively WRONG. According to Wikipedia-

"The phrase originated in ancient Greece and may originally have been proverbial. It is illustrated by two of Aesop's Fables and a similar sentiment is found in ancient Greek drama. Although it has been commonly attributed to Benjamin Franklin, the modern English wording appears earlier in Algernon Sidney's work.
The phrase is often mistaken as scriptural, but it appears nowhere in the Bible. Some Christians have criticized the expression as being contrary to the Bible's message of God's grace. A variant of the phrase, however, can be found in the Quran (13:11)."

So there ya go- you're following something that originated with the ancient Greeks, and is not even in the bible, although it IS in the Q'uran. How awesome is that?

How about this one-

"From each according to his ability, to each according to his needs"

Easy, right? That's from that bastard destroyer of all things humanly good, Karl Marx.

Well, sort of. Although it is part of his writings and ideology, he didn't start it.

Even that known Middle Eastern Socialist Jesus Christ didn't start it. It starts in Old Testament Leviticus- the same place it says being gay is an abomination (along with eating shellfish, shaving your beard and getting a tattoo...even one that's a bible verse like this one)-

According to, this goes way way back to a little thing called "Jubilee", which pretty much leveled the playing field for everyone every so often, BY LAW.

"There is continuing debate about whether or not these community summaries advocate a certain economic system, with some commentators describing the practice of the community as “proto-communism” and others seeing a mandatory divestiture of goods. The text, however, does not suggest an attempt to change the structures beyond the Christian community. Indeed, it would be difficult to think of a small, marginalized, socially powerless group having designs on changing the imperial economic system. It is clear that the community did not fully opt out of the systems of economics within the empire. Likely, fishermen remained members of fishing cartels and artisans continued to do business in the market.[1] Paul, after all, continued making tents to support his missionary travels (Acts 18:3).

Rather, the text suggests something far more demanding. In the earliest church, people of means and power liquidated their goods for the sake of the less powerful “from time to time” (Acts 4:34) as anyone “had need” (Acts 2:45; 4.35). This describes a kind of radical availability as the normal status of each person’s possessions. That is, the resources—material, political, social, or practical—of any member of the community were put at the constant disposal of the Christian community, even while individual members continued to oversee their particular resources. Rather than systematically prescribing the distribution of wealth in such a way as to ensure flat equality, the earliest church accepted the reality of economic disequilibrium, but practiced a radical generosity whereby goods properly existed for the benefit of the whole, not the individual. This form of generosity is, in many ways, more challenging than a rigid system of rules. It calls for ongoing responsiveness, mutual involvement in the lives of community members, and a continual willingness to hold possessions loosely, valuing the relationships within the community more than the (false) security of possessions.[2]

It is highly likely that this system within a system was inspired by the economic ideals expressed in Israel’s law, climaxing with the practice of Jubilee—the once-in-50-years redistribution of land and wealth within Israel (Leviticus 25:1-55). Jubilee was designed by God to ensure that all people had access to the means of making a living, an ideal that appears never to have been widely practiced by God’s people. Jesus, however, introduces his ministry with a set of texts from Isaiah 61 and 58 that produce a great many Jubilee themes.

The Spirit of the Lord is upon me, because he has anointed me to bring good news to the poor. He has sent me to proclaim release to the captives and recovery of sight to the blind, to let the oppressed go free, to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor. (Luke 4:18–19)

Jubilee ethic is further alluded to in Acts 4:34, where Luke tells us “there were no needy persons among them.” This appears to be a direct echo of Deuteronomy 15:4, where the practice of the Sabbath year (a mini-Jubilee occurring once every seven years) is designed to ensure that “there should be no poor among you.”

It is fitting that the Christian community would see this as a model for their economic life. But whereas in ancient Israel, the Sabbath year and the Jubilee were to be practiced only every seven and fifty years, respectively, radical availability marked the resources of the early Christian community. One can almost hear a Sermon on the Mount-like heightening of the Jubilee practice. “You have heard that it was said of old, ‘Give back your land to those who are landless once every fifty years,’ but I say to you, ‘Make your power and resources available any time you see the need.’” Radical generosity based on the needs of others becomes the basis of economic practice in the Christian community. We will explore this in depth through the incidents in the book of Acts.

The practices of the early churches challenge contemporary Christians to think imaginatively about models for radical generosity today. How could radical availability stand as a witness to the kingdom of God and form a plausible alternative way of structuring human life in a culture marked by the tenacious pursuit of personal wealth and security?"

How could modern day Americans, Christian or not, follow the admittedly awesome teachings of Jesus in regards to caring for people who are or your immediate family?

Well, here in America we have a little thing called 'taxes'. Taxes are the price we pay to live in a civil society. Taxes pay for the schools most of the kids go to, the libraries we can use, the roads we all drive on, the police and firemen and even the meter readers. All the stuff that keeps a modern society running in a modern and mostly smooth manner.

In addition to that, we have the non-tangibles. The Social Safety Net. That place that is (or should be) there to catch us if something happens- accident, illness, homelessness, joblessness, old age...and will carry us through those hard times- not just to barely scrape by them with our fingernails on the edge of the Cliffs of Despair, but to offer dignity and support because whether we like to admit it or not, we're all human and shit can and will go wrong with every one of us.

It's that whole 'part of a civil society' thing.

Fine. So what's my damn point?

My damn point is this- There is a huge, growing and I'm afraid terminal divide between "Survivalist Preppers" and "Sustainable Preppers".

Survivalist Preppers are raring (almost Rapturishly eagerly) to go- they're ready. They've got their bunkers and their MRE's and their water purifiers and their guns...their massive supply of guns and ammo. They are ready for the end of the world because by GAWD they will make sure that their nuclear (pun intended) family will survive IN SPITE Of anyone else. They are driven by fear.

Don't give me any shit. You know you are, deep down inside- down below all the bluster and jokes about, "Gee Mr. Smith, you have 100 guns and 500,000 rounds of ammo- what are you so afraid of?" Answer- "Not a damn thing". Har. Har. Har. But you are- you are deathly afraid of being in a position of needing anyone else.

The problem is, you can't do it yourself. History shows that the people who work together survive, and not the sort of working together where as long as you 'are fit enough to help and have the resources to contribute to the community' you are welcome, but if you've got nothing to offer you're out in the cold.

The INclusive kind of community, not the EXclusive kind.

Sustainable Preppers see the same things coming you do. I promise you we do.

So why are we so stupid? Why do we fight and strive for the rights of people we don't even know and who could do nothing for us in return? People who probably don't 'deserve' anything because they're probably lazy and spoiled and would spit on us as soon as help us?

First of all, please don't be so hard on yourselves. Admitting your flaws is the first step to getting over them.

Second of all, because it's the right thing to do. To care for everyone, not just people like us or who have 'proven' themselves according to some imaginary measuring stick.

Because YOUR Jesus commands us to.

We share our knowledge and our food, knowing that the more people who know this stuff, the better off we'll ALL be.

Remember the Native Americans? Those guys you have plastered on your T-shirts and claim to revere? They knew that we are all intertwined and if one of us falls, it's bad energy for the rest. And they're not just talking about people here- every life on the planet depends on the others.

Nothing exists in a vacuum for very long- why the hell do you think you can close the hatch of your bunker and come out even remotely OK?

Which brings us back to this- In our society we have something called taxes.Our own "Jubilee" can be to willingly and joyfully pay taxes so that everyone has access to education, and food, and shelter, and health care. Everyone. That's our goal that ya'll fight us against tooth and nail- everyone who says this Nation was founded on Christian values. Think about that for a second.

Time is short. Big shit is going to happen. Not 'someday', but in our lifetimes.

Now is not the time to 'go to ground', it's the time to go to the streets, meet your neighbors, share knowledge and food, laughter and humanity. We're all in this together whether you like to think so or not.

Why are us Hippie Peacenik types so pissed off? Because you're wasting precious time being fucking selfish, that's why.

Because if shit goes down and you show up at my door hungry and homeless, chances are I'll let you in and feed you. Do not ever take that to mean I'm weak, or that you can just walk over my family to take our stuff and go on. Ever. Because you will make excellent compost, and I'm not kidding.

What if my family shows up at your door? Will we be dead before we can knock and you even know our intentions or what we may have to offer you? I thought so.

That's the mindset that will end civilization not even as we know it, but as it could be.

Stop being so damn afraid of living that the highest you can reach for is mere survival.

Back awhile Joe purchased some freeze dried food for storage. I was talking to his mom about it. His mom is 94 and lived through the Depression in rural Oklahoma. Serious poverty. She asked what kind of food he bought and I said among other things, there was a case of freeze dried brocolli.

Edna thought on that a few minutes and then said, "If it gets so bad that all we have to eat is freeze-dried brocolli, it's just time to die".

Amen, Edna. Amen.

Saturday, January 4, 2014

It's Not the Flu. I Never Get the Flu.

Ten days ago, Edna and I were at lunch and I swallowed my Sprite wrong and coughed.

"You're coming down with something" Edna said.

"No- I just swallowed wrong- I'm fine" I smiled.

"No- you're coming down with something".

I brought Edna home and went on to work. Joe came in to take me to dinner about 6pm and I was feeling decidedly light-headed, but not sick. Because I never get the flu.

By the time I drove home at 9pm I was shivering, feverish, and everything hurt. Even my hair. I went directly to bed.

I totally lost Friday. I literally have no recollection of Friday. At all.

I do remember Saturday. It was miserable. I took Meloxicam for the body aches and Tylenol for the fever and headaches and Diphenatrop for the havoc the Meloxicam and Tylenol wreak on my intestines. Also as much Emergen-C as I could siphon into myself in between bouts of coma-like sleeping.

Sunday my fever broke but I still felt like I'd been hit by a truck. A big truck with snow tires on it.

By Tuesday I thought, "If Ward drives, I'm sure I am well enough that we can go to Pam's New Year's Eve Party in Denton tonight. We can drop Sparky off and just visit a few hours and then go to the hotel where I can sensibly go to bed early".

By the time we got to Denton I was over-the-top dizzy and I lasted all of 45 minutes at the party- 44 of them sitting miserably crouched in a corner away from everyone and doing my best not to exhale. I had 4 crackers and some cheese. They were delicious.

I remember briefly waking up when our friends dropped Sparky at the hotel room around 2am. I asked him to turn off the never-ending trucks on the interstate highway right outside the door.

We drove home New Year's Day and I went straight back to bed.

The 2nd I had Ward drive me to work for about an hour, plus a few other necessary errands- he was literally my wheels and feet for all of it, but just that little bit did me in. I think I'm fine and try to do stuff but quickly tire and get dizzy- especially if there is auto travel involved- and I freaking can't keep my eyes open. They actually close of their own accord after losing all focus and directional abilities.

I gave the hell up Thursday night. Decided I'm not going anywhere till Monday. I'm in bed or on the sofa no matter how much it rankles my over-achieving spirit.

And it rankles. Whatever the hell it is that's knocked me on my ass for ten days now rankles.

Because it's not the flu. I never get the flu.