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Christ Died For…?

March 3, 2018 2 comments

The name “Christian” is obviously derived from the name “Christ”. Perhaps this means that so-called God’s so-called Son died to absorb the sins of Christians only, rather than all human society. Perhaps this is another of so-called God’s mysteries in which we are to have “faith”, whatever that is.

If one were to hang on a rope from a high cliff, they would need faith that the rope will not fray and separate. If the faith was misplaced, the faithful would plunge into the valley below, bouncing and smashing into boulders and outcroppings all the way down. The faithful would be dead and gone “to a better place” before they hit bottom.

Perhaps the mountaineer’s faith should have been put into God and Christ instead of a mere, earthly rope. Not bloody likely. Faith in God and Christ would be misplaced because there is no God, and Christ was just a guy with a good idea to pitch to the ignorant. Before he knew it, he had a gang that called themselves Christians, even though Christ was Jewish.

What about Jews, by the way? Were Jews “saved” because of Christ’s sacrifice on the cross? What about Hindus and Muslims and all the other denominations, each with their own God. How many Gods are there? As many as religion hustlers can dream up. The entire God myth is ridiculous, that’s why it can’t be properly described. Why do many otherwise intelligent, logical people believe in God? It’s beyond reason.

There is no “better place” called Heaven to which a believer goes. There is no Hell and damnation to which non-believers go, because there is no demon Devil or flaming fury just as there is no God and Heaven. When it is said that God is within each of us, does that mean Jews, Muslims, Hindus and what have you as well?

In the unique case of “God is within each of us”, it might be said that it’s true in a way. Within each of us there is morality, judgement, joy, anger, and feelings. This is God in the way that God is nature and nature is God. Some people are kind and generous; some people are greedy and jealous. Some hate animals and forests, some love them. Some love cities and crowding, others abhor it all.

This is human nature, mistakenly called God by some people. We should all be kind and generous not because of fearing God, but just because it’s obviously right. We should not be violent and selfish because it’s obviously wrong. If you want to believe in a non-existent God, believe as your God would want you to believe. If your God wants you to strap a bunch of explosives to your body and blow yourself up among innocent people, and you do it, you’re just f*cking crazy.

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To Avoid Survivors’ Agony

February 28, 2018 Leave a comment

Here in Canada, we look down over the border to the United States and ask ourselves, “What do they need with all those guns?” It’s a terrible misuse of their second amendment. It doesn’t say everybody has a gun. Even though it was written at a time when there was danger from warring tribes and wild animals, the founders did not say, “The more guns the better.” They said a specified number of people, in an organized group to protect the citizens, should be armed.

Too many ladies, shopping for groceries like the hundreds around her, have loaded handguns in their purses. Too many cars have handguns in their glove boxes. We see nice people casually taking their firearms before leaving their homes, and they treat it as casually as Kleenex or lipstick.

A gun is neither a tissue nor a cosmetic. It is a precision piece of equipment that has a sole purpose; to fire a hot projectile with a degree of accuracy. It might be aimed at a target by a qualified gun owner, or it might be aimed at an irritating spouse, or a threatening thief, or a young couple out for a walk beneath the moon. The more guns in an area, the more likely it is that potential for tragedy is in that area.

In Canada, it’s almost heartbreaking to attempt to acquire a gun. I once did it to see how it goes. I had to present myself to a sheriff’s office, and to a police station to be interviewed each time. Two plain clothes police officials paid a surprise visit to my home at a random time of their choosing. We didn’t know they were coming. They were there to see if the normal family household was a safe, sane environment, and evaluate the quality of our relationship. That was just for a long gun like a .22 or something like that. A similar rigmarole is required to purchase ammunition. I eventually acquired a lovely Winchester 30-30 lever action, but have never fired it. It’s just a lovely object.

Do the numbers. The population in Canada is roughly 10% of the population in the USA. We might logically expect shootings to be roughly 10% of those in the USA. Not so. Canada’s shootings are approximately 1% of those in the USA. That means that the USA suffers 10 times more shootings than it should tolerate.

We hope the USA teenagers band together, diminish the NRA, and get sensible laws passed. Kids can do more than you might think. It was the teens in Hungary that finally drove the occupying forces of Russia out of their country in 1956. The kids are stronger than the idiotic so called president and his wimp-suck band of bandits.

Organized Control

February 2, 2018 Leave a comment

They’re always at it. I refer to the oligarchs and their minions, which include a vast number of people in various levels of power and control. For instance, I’ve recently seen promotions for a big television presentation based on “The Kennedys”. These are people with real control; the so called American Royalty.

I find it interesting that a handsome young, new Kennedy, Joseph Kennedy III is featured in a prominent position on television. He followed the State of the Union broadcast during a week of advertising “The Kennedys” which is his family. Just a lucky coincidence? I doubt it. The never-ending battle for wealth, power and control leaks into every tiny crevasse to leave no stone unturned in their determination to advance their agenda. Watch for further appearances by the Kennedy kid as his family’s control paves his way to power.

The Kennedys are honoured as a first family of the USA. This is the way in the USA – lots of money means quality. Donald Trump is proof that’s not true. The guy is a lying, perhaps wealthy swine. But now to the Kennedys. I’m sure the mob did the hits on Jack Kennedy and Bobbie Kennedy. The mob got them elected and then they went back on their deal with the mob. Imagine the money and power that put Jack Ruby front and center to kill Lee Harvey Oswald before he could tell his story.

Jack and Bobbie Kennedy agreed to lay of the pursuit of the Mob in return for the Mob’s help the Kennedys reach their selfish goals. Old Joe Kennedy the first was in bed with the Mob from the outset. He built the Kennedy fortune in all variety of corruption and thievery, and then they became the so called aristocracy in Boston, where everybody pretends to quality.

When the Kennedy brothers continued to hassle the Mob, in direct rejection of their previous agreement, they asked for assassination. The arrogance of the wealthy, powerful Kennedys led them to believe they were above retribution by the Mob. After all, they were the family leading the USA, controlling the stock market and the military. They thought, perhaps, that the Irish were superior to the Italians. They all began as desperate immigrants.

Keep in mind that it’s not easy to amass a huge fortune. It takes wisdom, intelligence, luck and force. Force can mean beatings, or threats, or bribery or any of a number of other ‘convincers’. The Kennedys, like all of the oligarchs, are lying, corrupt thieves.

The Decline and Fall of the USA

December 11, 2017 1 comment

( Written in Nov. 2014)

I’m sorry to be watching the decline and fall of The United States of America. I live in America too… the Canadian part. When we were teenagers, back in the 1950s, everything we wanted was over the border in ‘The States’. Levis jeans were only available in the states, so here we are, an hour of easy driving and we’re in the states.  McDonald’s was only in the states, and Hershey’s chocolate, and marshmallow fluff and all kinds of big American cars. Even though life was full and good and peaceful in our big Canadian city, the USA called.

The USA had unbeatable GIs, aircraft carriers, sabre jets, Hollywood, Broadway, Miami, Chicago and Detroit. In those days, Montreal was bigger than Toronto and the Canadian dollar was worth more than the American dollar.  Crossing between the two countries was almost barely an interruption. There was no toll to cross, but a toll-type thing was there to stop you and ask a few unimportant questions to which you could answer any way you wanted. ‘Where are you going, how long are you staying, have a nice trip’. That was about it.

Now I realize that it’s Canada that is the best country, the best people, the best way of life. It is frightening how common guns are in the USA. A boy takes his Grandma’s gun to kill some other kid. What the hell is Grandma doing with a gun? They have them in their glove box, under the seat, in their pocket… as if they didn’t care that they are deadly dangerous, actually designed and built to kill and maim.

I could go on about why the USA has turned into crap, but it should be obvious. They elect and admire the shittiest people.  The Kennedy family was exalted in the states, as if old Joe wasn’t a lying, thieving asshole in bed with the mob.  He even was too low for the mob because he crossed them through his sons, and the mob showed who’s really boss. They just eliminated Jack and Bobby and peripheral people like Lee Oswald and Jack Ruby. That’s the American mob way, and it’s right up to the white house if they want to play it that way.

Anyway, thanks to people like George W. Bush and Dickhead Cheney, the plug has been pulled on the American dream. The American nightmare is coming on, and I only hope when the southern part of North America falls, it doesn’t take the northern part with it. We haven’t ruined our part, and we won’t.  And leave our water alone when you fall! We don’t need your money like the oil countries needed it when you moved in there.  We’re doing fine, thank you, so stay on your side of the border and keep your guns over there too.

In The Dark When It’s Quiet

November 1, 2017 Leave a comment

If not for the pieces of moonlight that filtered through the overhead foliage, Percy would not be able to see the walking path through the suburban forest. He had just hopped off a train a few hours ago and set about finding a place to sleep. He saw the forested park when he emerged from an older residential neighbourhood.

Percy turned off the path and pushed through some foliage until he came to a smooth place among the tree roots. The ground was covered with leaves from previous seasons and made a soft, dry mattress. He shrugged off his backpack and laid out his sleeping bag. The night was warm and clear, so he didn’t need any more shelter.

He lay back on his sleeping bag and just looked at the sky. Most stars were obliterated by the glow of the moon, but many were visible close to the horizon.  Percy reached into his backpack and fished out a sandwich and a bottle of water. While he sat on the ground snacking, he heard footfalls coming on the path. He saw to people jogging by. He knew from their voices as they chatted that one was a man and the other a woman.

A short time later, another jogger passed. Percy assumed it was a man because of his size. Every minute or so, a jogger passed. He lay down in his sleeping bag and set himself to sleep. Sleep eluded him as he found himself lying awake listening for joggers. He wondered how much time had passed. It seemed to him that it must be past midnight. He heard another jogger approaching and he climbed out of the sleeping bag and stood up to see over the bush behind which he’d been lying.

The jogger was a slender young woman. As Percy stepped over the bush he startled the woman. She reacted instantly, jumped back and pulled out a nine millimeter Remington automatic and shot him in the face. He just wanted to ask the time.

Treasure Lake – Like a deer in the headlights

March 19, 2017 Leave a comment

The canoes split the water silently as they glided across the small lake seeking cover. With great care, all four paddlers dipped their paddles into the still water with almost complete silence. Whatever sounds their might have been – whispered words or a paddle lightly touching a gunnel – were drowned out by the mating songs of a million insects and amphibians.

Suddenly the lake was alight. The airplane had turned on its landing lights for a last look around, and there they were – two canoes and four young people. They couldn’t see anything when they looked back at the plane because the intense light blinded them. Especially after the complete darkness. The sound of a small outboard motor came across the water.

“Shit!” Solly Cohen said. “They have a motorboat!”

“Paddle like hell for the weeds,” Rob Snitzer ordered.

“The weeds will slow us down!” Phyllis Snitzer said. “It harder to paddle, pushing through the weeds.”

canoe

“Shouldn’t we be looking for the swiftest way to go?” Caroline Rich said.

“The weeds will slow us down,” Rob said, “and if the motorboat guy doesn’t know better and follows us into the weeds, he’s gonna be stopped dead.”

“Why?” Caroline said.

“Those weeds will be caught by his propeller, and it will wrap around and around until the pressure pulls it in through the space between the propeller and its housing. It will stop the engine with sheer pressure, preventing the propeller from spinning,” Rob said.

“How do you know?” Caroline said.

“I’ve done it myself. Motored through a weed patch and took fifteen minutes to cut and pull the weeds out of the propeller shaft,” Rob said.

“What if he has a weedless propeller?” Solly said.

“We’re fucked,” Rob said.

“Well, what are we going to do, Rob?” Phyllis cried.

“We’re gonna paddle like our lives depend on it… because they do!”

With that, Rob plunged his paddle into the water and pushed. The others fell into his rhythm and the canoes cut through the tall weeds and soon they escaped the light from the plane in an area of dense foliage. Rob asked everyone to stop for a moment and listen. The motorboat was approaching. The engine began to sound strained, like it was labouring under an excessive load. At last, it stopped completely, and just in time.

Caroline could see it through the brush. The boat was illuminated by the plane’s lights, and two men were arguing. They tipped up the engine and began reaching back to grasp at the weeds that were tightly wound around the propeller shaft, as hoped.

The way to safety was clearer now, and they paddled steadily and without strain. They discussed the next problem they would have to face.

“If we tell the cops about the dead guy,” Solly said, “they’ll soon know about the gold, too.”

“If we don’t tell the cops,” Phyllis said, “and we keep the gold, what do we do with it?”

“I think I know what the perfect answer should be,” Caroline said.

“So do I,” said Rob. “We tell the authorities about the dead guy, and we turn the Krugerrands in wherever stuff like that goes. They will probably know who owns it, and are probably looking for it as we speak.”

They told the authorities about the corpse and gave them the gold. They expected the corpse to be killed, and the theft had been fairly recent. They solved the murder and the grateful Bank of South Africa gave each of the young canoeists one hundred thousand dollars. Everybody is happy.

Treasure Lake – Hunters Hunting

March 16, 2017 Leave a comment

The air boat was cruising slowly down the shallow channel that passed in front of the blind of bulrushes. They listened to its approach, the big propeller spinning slowly – pukata-pukata-pukata – as the vessel drew adjacent to the hiding place where the four young people in their canoes hid behind the rushes.

Lilly Pads

Solly had his slingshot pulled back to maximum, planning to send a knockout hit with the only shot he was likely to have. He arranged for Phyllis and Caroline to part the rushes at the precise moment when he could let fly the stone. The driver of the air boat sat up high in front of the engine while the guy with the gun sat below him. Solly made the best judgement he could, shooting just ahead of the driver’s head to allow for the boat’s forward movement.

“Now,” Solly called. The two girls pulled bundles of rushes to the right and the left, and through the open space, Solly let fly the stone. Before the gunman or the driver could react to the parting of the rushes, the projectile struck the driver in the head, hard. He slumped forward, and knocked the speed control to full speed.  At the same time, he fell from his high seat onto the gunman below him.

They were in a tangle on the floor of the vessel unable to rise because the acceleration of the airboat when the driver’s fall pushed the speed to maximum. They shot forward several meters and struck a floating log.  The impact bounced the nose of the boat up into the air and the fast revolving propeller launched them up and over.  They fell back into the water upside down. The propeller kicked up a mess of froth, water and weeds until it sank back and the engine was choked out with water.

“Okay,” Caroline Rich said, “let’s get out of here.”

“Not so fast,” Rob Snitzer said. “I want to see if those guys are okay, or need help or something.”

“Are you crazy?” Phyllis Snitzer shouted at her brother in the other canoe. “They’re here to kill us!”

At that moment, both men broke the surface, sputtering and wiping their eyes with their hands. They saw Solly Cohen with his slingshot, and the other three, and started to come for them in the waist deep water and weeds.  Progress was slow and laborious.

“Okay,” Rob said.  “They’re okay, so let’s get out of here.” They paddled their canoes out from behind the natural blind of bulrushes and started to stroke briskly away.

“Hey, wait,” the boat owner called, “don’t leave us stuck here! How will we get out of here?” At the same time, the gunman fished his rifle out of the water, shook water out of the barrel and hastily prepared to shoot at the foursome.

The bullets blipped into the water on either side of the canoes. Clearly, the gun was not functioning ideally, and the gunman was soaked, sputtering, and clearly out of his element.

Stroking hard, both canoes moved out of range quite quickly and headed for the tributary that should lead them back to their cars and eventual escape. Within minutes, the drone of the single engine aircraft could be heard approaching. The canoes were guided under some overhanging willow branches where they waited until the aircraft landed or moved on.