How Evil or Not Is Our President?

I’ve watched a little of the History Channel series on the Bible. A lot of folks are bothered by the violence in it. I assume those people haven’t actually read the Bible, the Old Testament in particular. There is incest, forced slavery, rape, murder of every description and even genocide. It’s tough stuff. A lot of folks who want to ban other books because of the Bible would probably want to ban the Bible itself if they ever read it.

Some are upset by the portrayal of Satan. Why? He looks like our president. Really, he does (the TV Satan, that is). It’s supposed to be a coincidence, and maybe it is. It does, however, raise the question of whether Obama is, in fact, Satan or just really evil. My conservative friends think so. My liberal friends think quite the opposite, of course. The hard right (rock-ribbed Republicans, as my Dad would have said) reject everything Obama says or does as wrong-headed and Socialist. The Left accepts everything he says or does as being brilliant and enlightened. In other words, he’s the Democrat version of George W. Bush.

I don’t know much about Satan or Lucifer or Beelzebub or whatever you call him. The Bible doesn’t talk that much about him, either. All this stuff about him being the proudest angel and falling from grace, etc., isn’t in the Bible. Regardless, I know he’s bad news. He tempts us with all kinds of evil. I can’t endorse that behavior, although I have to admit that I’ve enjoyed a few of his temptations. He’s also the overlord of Hell, which is bad in all possible ways with its lakes of fire, weeping and wailing and the obligatory gnashing of teeth.

So, why the Hell does the President look so much like Satan? There really can’t be a good explanation, UNLESS–you got it–he IS Satan. Okay, I know that’s a stretch. What if he’s just the Anti-Christ? The evidence is disturbing to say the least:

The Westboro Baptist Church thinks he’s the Anti-Christ. That’s a credible source for theological truths. They also think the U.S. Army is dominated by homosexuals.
The Obamacare microchip implants are certainly a bad sign. The Mark of the Beast.
The name “Barack” has 6 letters, as in 6-6-6. How convenient.
He’s black. The History Channel has proven that Satan is, too. Plus, Satan is always called things like the “Dark One.”
As we all know from the film Jesus Christ Superstar, Judas was black. Coincidence?
Although the Bible says nothing about the age of the Anti-Christ, isn’t there at least a decent chance he would be about Obama’s age?
It is well-known that the Anti-Christ will be a charismatic figure, much like–you guessed it!–Obama.
Revelation 13:5-8 says the Anti-Christ will rule for 42 months. That’s fairly close to one term of Obama’s presidency.
There’s even a website that questions whether he’s the Anti-Christ. If he weren’t, why would someone go to all that trouble?
Michael Savage says Obama is “the most evil” President ever. That’s good enough for me.
This passage from Revelation 13 succinctly describes Obama:
- [1] And I stood upon the sand of the sea, and saw a beast rise up out of the sea, having seven heads and ten horns, and upon his horns ten crowns, and upon his heads the name of blasphemy.
  [2] And the beast which I saw was like unto a leopard, and his feet were as the feet of a bear, and his mouth as the mouth of a lion: and the dragon gave him his power, and his seat, and great authority.
  [3] And I saw one of his heads as it were wounded to death; and his deadly wound was healed: and all the world wondered after the beast.
  [4] And they worshiped the dragon which gave power unto the beast: and they worshiped the beast, saying, Who is like unto the beast? Who is able to make war with him?
  [5] And there was given unto him a mouth speaking great things and blasphemies; and power was given unto him to continue forty and two months.
  [6] And he opened his mouth in blasphemy against God, to blaspheme his name, and his tabernacle, and them that dwell in heaven.
  [7] And it was given unto him to make war with the saints, and to overcome them: and power was given him over all kindreds, and tongues, and nations.
  [8] And all that dwell upon the earth shall worship him, whose names are not written in the book of life of the Lamb slain from the foundation of the world
They might as well put a photo of Obama next to this passage. Sixty or seventy years ago, a lot of churches thought the Papacy was the Anti-Christ. Don’t they look silly now?

Those of you with a conservative bent are probably smiling. Maybe you’re thinking: “He can’t be serious, but, you know, all that makes sense.” If you’re over there on the Left, you may be angry, thinking: “Another right-wing Nazi making fun of the greatest President ever.” If you’re really far Left, you’re probably an atheist anyway and just generally offended by anything hinting at religion. You don’t have faith in anything, except the Government, that is (that’s big G Government, just like big G God). Oddly enough, atheists now worship a man who has been a Christian his entire adult life.

All this naturally leads to my next line of inquiry. If we dismiss Obama as Satan or even the Anti-Christ, what if my friends on the Left are correct and he is a great man–the greatest man? Consider:

We know nothing of Jesus’s teen or young adult years. The same can be said of Obama whose formative years remain shrouded in mystery.
Some people think Jesus looked like this:

The resemblance is uncanny.

Jesus was black. Okay, I have no direct or indirect proof of this, but isn’t it at least possible? The Bible doesn’t say he wasn’t black. Don’t you find that suspicious? I do. Besides, look at his picture!
Like Jesus, Obama has fed the multitudes. In Obama’s case, it’s with food stamps, but the effect is similar.
Obama made Chris Matthews’ leg tingle. That has to be some kind of miracle.
Louis Farrakhan once said of Obama “The Messiah is speaking.” He never says anything nutty.
Speaking of miracles, Obama got a black man elected President of the United States–TWICE!
Jesus and Obama are both excellent public speakers.
Both were carpenters. I’m little thin on facts to support this one, but it hasn’t been dis-proven to my satisfaction.
We all know that Jesus was born of a virgin mother, but what of Obama? What do we know of his so-called “father?” Not much. Did he even exist? If not, why not?
I’m pretty sure Jesus didn’t have a birth certificate, either.
One can persuasively argue that Jesus, too, was a community organizer. He organized an entire religion!
Jesus’s followers were the meek, the downtrodden, the poor in spirit. Isn’t this exactly what folks on the Right say of Obama’s supporters?

Before you condemn me to the Lake of Fire, I am not suggesting that Obama is the Messiah or even a Messianic figure. I only ask the questions that others fear. Not surprisingly, I have no answers.

As with any serious theological debate, there are countervailing arguments. If he were God or something similar, it’s hard to understand why Rand Paul wasn’t smited during his recent filibuster. If he were Satan or one of his minions, one would think he would try to woo the religious Right instead of constantly enraging them. We can’t allow such obvious inconsistencies to derail our reckless speculation.

The Bible is thin on details describing Satan. I’ll admit that Revelation contains an excellent description of the Anti-Christ what with the two heads and whatnot. Although the Bible makes it clear that Jesus will return, it is equally explicit that we don’t know when or where. Using those criteria, it is impossible to eliminate Obama. Thus, we may never know the answer until it’s too late.

If Obama is Satan, then where does that leave Dick Cheney? If Obama is the Messiah, then why is he a Muslim? If he is just a man, why do we have all these questions, none of which are subject to adequate answers? Have I written this under Satan’s spell or by divine inspiration? Where does Glenn Beck fit in to all of this? Why does Rachel Maddow look like a dude? We may never know the answers to these and other questions.

So, where are we? I don’t know. Maybe Obama is an Ivy League-educated ideologue who surrounds himself with like-minded people–a decent family man with whom a lot of people (myself included) vehemently disagree on some issues. The Liberal George W. Bush. NOW, I’m talking crazy.

©thetrivialtroll.wordpress.com 2013

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My Flagging Patriotism

I make no secret that I love being an American. I’ve always been an American, and I’ve always loved my life, at least most of the time. I might also like being Swiss or a Liechtensteiner, but I’ll never know. I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t like being a Somalian.

Because I love being an American, I suspect that makes me patriotic. I certainly have pulled for us in all the wars. But, when I hear really patriotic people talk, I think I’m a wild-eyed anarchist. The flag–the American Flag–more than anything else makes feel like that.

Being a bit of a gadfly, I’m leery of blind loyalty to anyone or anything. Any time people speak of patriotism, I think of the famous quote that we’ll know fascism when it reaches American because it will be “wrapped in the flag and carrying a cross.” Some say that Sinclair Lewis said this. It certainly sounds like something he would have said.

Nothing swells Americans with pride like our flag. Old Glory. The Stars and Stripes. Unlike some countries whose flags have wild colors and sayings on them, it’s simply designed. Fifty stars and thirteen stripes. Red, white and blue. We don’t have animals or people on our flag. It’s not all busy and confusing. I’ve always like the flag, but I don’t worship it. I really liked the one the Air Force draped on my Dad’s casket. My fellow Americans, however, are obsessed with the flag.

Prior to the American Civil War, the flag wasn’t so much a symbol of patriotism as it was a marker used to identify federal territories or possessions. During the Civil War, it became a symbol of the union just as the Confederate flag was a symbol of rebellion. Since then, the flag has taken on more significance.

Nowadays, the flag is venerated. Rick Monday was a fairly good baseball player in the 1960’s and 1970’s. He was a good outfielder, hit with some power and had good speed. He’s known for two things. One, he was the very first pick in Major League Baseball’s first amateur draft. Second, he saved the flag. During a game at Dodger Stadium in 1976, Monday was playing in the outfield for the Chicago Cubs. Two “fans” ran on the field, threw down a flag and prepared to burn it. Monday ran by and scooped it up with one hand just before it was lit. He got a standing ovation. Mention Rick Monday to a baseball fan of a certain age, and he or she will remember that moment.

: Rick Monday’s greatest play.

We have songs about the flag. “Stars and Stripes Forever” and “It’s a Grand Old Flag” are two of them. My father was fond of march music, so I I’ve heard Stars and Stripes Forever many, many times. It’s pretty catchy.

We like the flag so much that we have laws about it. The Flag Acts of 1777, 1794 and 1818 tell us what the flag should look like. We have a United States Flag Code which has rules about displaying and caring for the flag. You can read it at 4 U.S.C. Section 1, et seq. (I’m a lawyer, and that’s a citation to a statute). Before you go scrambling to the United States Code to turn in your neighbor, there are no criminal penalties for breaking these rules. Think of them as rules of etiquette for the flag. Here are just a few of the rules:

Don’t dip the flag
Don’t display it upside down (except to show distress)
Don’t wad it up
Don’t make clothes out of it
Don’t draw pictures on it
Don’t walk on it
Don’t let it touch the ground
Burn it when it’s worn out

This is okay, because Mrs. Palin’s bikini is not an actual flag. It’s not okay that she’s wearing a bikini, though.

First Amendment fanatic Larry Flynt. Wearing an actual flag as a diaper is not okay, but it’s not a crime. Maybe it should be.

These are a just a few of the highlights. There are a bunch of rules. Only an anal-retentive Boy Scout could keep track of all of them. Just be glad there are no criminal penalties. By the way, I was a Boy Scout–maybe it was a Cub Scout–for a couple of weeks. What did I learn? How to fold the flag, of course.

The bottom line is that we don’t like people being disrespectful to the flag. People in foreign countries like to burn the flag–our flag. You can tell they think that infuriates us, and it does. Some of these folks will hit it with shoes. That’s definitely a no-no.

Although the flag is iconic, the First Amendment to the United States Constitution allows us to desecrate it. Like Mr. Flynt, we can wear it as a diaper if we so choose; however, I don’t suggest that, because it will make you unpopular in many circles.

Remember, though, it’s not a crime. We Kentuckians have made it a crime under state law, Kentucky Revised Statute Section 525.110. That statute is unconstitutional, of course, but we don’t care. It’s still a law, even if we can’t enforce it. We’re well-known in Kentucky for passing laws that can’t be enforced and for periodically embarking on Quixotic battles to display the Ten Commandments. It’s part of our culture.

Of course, Americans have a Pledge of Allegiance. Man oh man, the Pledge of Allegiance gets people worked up. We’re supposed to pledge allegiance to the flag, by God, or so the argument goes. No one ever explains why we should do this, but we should. Some–like your author and The United States Supreme Court–believe that Americans shouldn’t have to pledge allegiance to God, country, flags, politicians or anything else. We’re Americans. We have the right to be apathetic or downright hostile about everything.

I often see posts on social media lamenting that schools don’t recite the Pledge of Allegiance. This isn’t true. My children attended public schools where the Pledge was recited. Now, the school can’t force you to recite it. That’s okay, at least with me.

If you’re going to get all worked up about the Pledge of Allegiance, consider:

The original text of the Pledge:
- I pledge allegiance to my flag and to the republic for which it stands, one nation, indivisible with liberty and justice for all.
It was written in 1892 by Francis Bellamy, a Christian socialist. That’s right, a socialist.
It was written as part of the 400 year celebration of Columbus’s arrival in America.
One of the purposes of it was to sell flags to schools, because there was a belief that patriotism was at a low point.
Bellamy wanted to include equality and fraternity for all, but he knew that schools wouldn’t support equal rights for women and African-Americans.
About 30 years later, “my flag” was replaced with “the flag of the United States of America.” The thought was that immigrants needed to be clear about which flag they loved.
In 1954, the now familiar “under God” was added. This was during the Cold War when godless Communism was all the rage.
A minister named George Docherty suggested to President Eisenhower that God be added to the pledge. Reverend Docherty likened the Pledge to something “Moscovite children” might recite.
Legally, you can’t be forced to recite it.
Schools can recite the Pledge, but student participation is voluntary. If you think schools are not allowed to recite the Pledge, you are wrong.
The vast majority of states require that time be set aside for recitation of the Pledge. So, if you think the country is going to hell because we don’t do it, again, you’re wrong. Here in Kentucky, we have Kentucky Revised Statute Section 158.175 which sets aside time for it.
Groups like Socialists and Fascists love to have people pledge allegiance to the state.

This being America, we don’t force anyone–even children–to pledge allegiance to the flag. Maybe you think we should, but such things as freedom of speech and of religion stand in the way. It’s okay. Those are good things, too. Think about it like this: If you’re one who thinks we should be forced to say the Pledge, imagine how you’d react if President Obama said that. See?

We’re not the only country with a flag. Other countries have flags, too. All of them do, I guess, but we don’t care much for those. Most of them are goofy looking with odd sayings and pictures on them.

Andorra has the typical weird flag combining a haughty crest with cows and odd foreign gibberish.

Some other flags just took no thought at all. France, for example:

The French flag can be easily adapted in the event of surrender.

We want people to fight for the flag, too. Personally, I wouldn’t do that, especially if I had time to think about it. I’d probably let you have the flag if it were that important to you. That’s not the same as fighting for one’s country, although I wouldn’t want to do that, either.

When we Americans get mad at foreign countries, we don’t take to the streets and burn their flags. To us, that seems over the line. Oh, we’ll invade your country, kill you by the thousands and overthrow your government, but we’ll be good to your flag. That’s only decent.

All our states have flags. Here is the flag of my state, Kentucky:

It states the fairly obvious maxim of “United we stand. Divided we fall.” I suppose the cartoon on it symbolizes country and city folk coming together. We also call ourselves a “commonwealth.” No one knows what that means, but we’re just a plain old state like everyone else. Kentucky has its own Pledge of Allegiance:

“I pledge allegiance to the Kentucky flag, and to the Sovereign State for which it stands, one Commonwealth, blessed with diversity, natural wealth, beauty, and grace from on High.“

Notice that it doesn’t mention “God.” I think people would be outraged about this if they knew we had our own pledge. “On High” could be God, Jesus, Buddha or a bundle of sticks.

I’ve been told that this is Alabama’s flag:

Weird, huh? It’s kind of like they’ve just Xed themselves out. Then again, it’s easy to draw.

State flags aren’t as controversial. I’ve never heard anyone accused of desecrating one, and I’ve never seen angry foreign mobs burning one. If someone did, we’d probably get mad, but it would quickly pass.

Everyone knows the famous photo of the flag being raised at Iwo Jima. It wouldn’t have had the same impact if they had raised the Kentucky state flag by mistake.

Some of our states are fond of the Confederate flag, the Old Stars and Bars. Only in America could you fly the flag of a rebellion that cost hundreds of thousands of lives and almost destroyed your country. Of course, a lot of folks are offended by that. That’s also very American. Do what you want, but others have a right to get pissed off about it.

Whether you’re conservative or liberal, you might be thinking: “Hey, does this nut have some kind of problem with flags?” No. I’ve never desecrated a flag (at least not on purpose). I don’t advocate such things, either, but I probably don’t love the flag. And I certainly don’t insist that you love it or pledge some kind of oath to it. Just don’t wear it as a diaper, unless you really want to.

©thetrivaltroll.wordpress.com 2013

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My Over 50 Not-To-Do List

I’m in my 51st year on the planet. Although many people have exceeded my longevity, this impresses me. Of course, lots of folks lived less time than I have and did much more–Mozart, for example. All in all, though, living longer is a good thing.

I now read AARP publications. AARP recently ran a tongue-in-cheek article about things NOT to do after age 50. It was somewhat humorous. Somewhat. Like a lot of things, it got me thinking. Now, that I’m 50 (and have been for several months now), what won’t I do? Here are five such things:

PLAY BALL! I’ve written before about my mediocrity as an athlete. That never stopped me from trying to play sports. No more. No basketball. No softball. No flag football. Nothing where I risk injury. Why? I don’t want any other injuries. The older you get, the more injury-prone you are. My sports are now limited to baseball and basketball with my youngest son and even then I don’t go all out.

I’ve never had a serious injury. I’ve never worn a cast or had surgery or used crutches. I did tear a muscle in my shoulder once, but they can’t do much about that. I had a stress fracture in my foot, but it went away.

In my 30’s I scraped the outside of left calf sliding during a softball game. It looked like a burn and hurt like hell. It scabbed up in a couple of days. Then, the scab disappeared, and it looked like an orange peel, except oozy. You know how your mother said that a cut with red lines running from it is bad? It had those, two. It was something called cellulitis. The doctor said it was a “galloping infection.” I had to elevate my leg and put a heating pad on the open wound. I also had to draw a circle around it with a Sharpie. If the red spread past the outline, that would be bad. When I stood, the blood rushed to my leg and it felt like a thousand needles. I had to get a shot every day, too, for a week. The shot gave me diarrhea. For days, I was reduced to lying down with a heating pad on an open sore which burned like it was on fire while trying to control my bowels and drawing on my leg with a magic marker. I’m just too old for this kind of thing.

Even if I wanted to play sports, I probably can’t. The simplest of sports may be beyond me now. A few months ago, I passed baseball with my 17-year-old son who is a high school baseball player. He can throw 80-85 mph without much effort. I was terrified. Enough of that, too.

Fortunately, my youngest son is almost 11 now. If I had a younger kid, I’d hire someone to play with him. No sense taking unnecessary risks.

ANGRY UP MY BLOOD: The great baseball player Satchel Paige once cautioned against eating fried food, because it would angry up one’s blood. I don’t necessarily agree with that, because I like fried food. I do, however, agree with the caution about angrying up the blood.

I was an angry young man. Angry about all kinds of stuff–my job, politics, religion, sports–pretty much everything. I had a short fuse which was easily lit, too. I was an unpleasant person. I’m too old for all that, as well.

It seems that my peers become angrier with age while I mellow. I am aging in reverse, like a far less handsome version of Brad Pitt as Benjamin Button. It seems that everyone my age is mad about liberals, conservatives, the rich, the poor, taxes, drones, sports, religion and life in general. Here’s the deal: We all have opinions. So do I. I’m certain that mine aren’t all that important. In fact, I may be flat wrong on many (most?) of them. Same goes for you. I’m sure that pisses you off. Relax.

I’m confident that being mad shortens my life. How? Well, every minute I waste fuming about something, I could be doing something else. So, there goes part of my life down the old crapper. As a live and let live guy, I really don’t care if you’re mad, even at me. Just don’t ask me to play along.

GET IN MY CUPS: I was once quite fond of strong drink. I may still be, but I haven’t partaken in several years. Understand that I have no problem with those that do. I just believe that such indulgences are a young man’s game. Hangovers had bad for my brain. Why else would my head hurt like that? Vomiting is no good under any circumstances. Also, not remembering conversations or where I’ve been or what I’ve done is problematic. Soon enough, age itself will cause such problems. No need to speed the plow.

Here’s the kind of thing I did when I drank. A few years ago (not as many as you might think), my wife and I went to a party. I drank quite a bit before the party and quite a bit at the party. Oh, I had a grand time–or so I’ve heard. When we came home, I retired to the basement whereupon I quickly dozed off (the more crass of you might call it “passing out.”) A couple of hours into my respite, I had the urge to relieve myself. Rising from the couch, I was unsteady on my feet. No doubt this was from the deep REM sleep. As I staggered toward the bathroom, somehow I fell forward, striking my head on a wooden post. Oh, I also broke my glasses.

No problem. Holding my forehead, I made it to the bathroom and did my business. My right brow was really throbbing, so I thought I might take a look at it. Leaning close the mirror–remember my glasses were broken–I moved my hand from my right eye to get a good look.

The funny thing about cuts to the head is that they bleed far in excess of the severity of the actual injury. When I moved my hand, blood fairly gushed from a small slice in my right eye brow. It ran into my eye and down my face. It just kept coming. There was only one thing to do–I puked and went into a full-blown swoon. Then I sat in the floor convinced that I was bleeding to death and would be found covered in blood and vomit–not a glorious demise.

So, I did the only thing I could do. Holding a towel to my head, I climbed the two flights of stairs to the master bedroom and consulted my dear wife. Let’s just say that the evening suddenly took an even uglier turn.

I’m too old for this kind of foolishness now. Let the young men bleed profusely and copiously vomit. I’ll sip my Starbucks, work the crossword puzzle and retire for the evening at 9:30 or so.

EAT WELL: This takes some explaining. I don’t eat all that poorly. I don’t have a weight problem. I’m a lean, mean 160 pounds. Perfect middle-weight size. Think of me as a whiter, less-imposing, soft version of Marvelous Marvin Hagler (if you don’t know Hagler, you’re not my age). At one time I weighed 176 pounds, which was a little too much. I quickly shed that weight. That’s just a genetic thing. Don’t get all pissed off (see section above).

People want me to eat well, and I guess I should. My family has a bit of a history of heart disease. Regardless, there are things I like to eat. They include, but are not limited to:

High fructose corn syrup
Sugar
Chocolate
Ice Cream
Eggs
Bacon
Pork in general
Deep fried anything
Gluten
Peanut butter
Hot dogs
Red meat
White meat
Meat

I also don’t mind my food being laced with preservatives. Why not? Hey, I like it preserved until I want to eat it. Call me crazy.

I’m not diabetic. I don’t have celiac disease. Or diverticulitis. Or any food allergies. If you do, please watch what you eat. The key here is to watch what you eat, not what I eat.

If YOU don’t want to eat this stuff, I’m okay with it. I won’t force it on you. I don’t have people to my house for dinner anyway. Eat what you want. You can eat free range horse for all I care. Just don’t tell me what to eat. I enjoy food and fully intend to continue to do so.

FIGHT CLUB: Chief Joseph said: “From where the sun now stands, I will fight no more forever.” That’s a good philosophy, and I agree wholeheartedly with him. Fighting isn’t good, especially if you run the risk of getting the crap beat out of you.

Like heavy drinking, fighting is a young man’s business. When you’re young, fighting can be a test of your manhood. It can also be provoked by heavy drinking. Either way, it’s usually a one-on-one situation and little harm is done.

Unlike in the movies, real fights rarely result in a lot of punching. A good punch is almost always a “sucker” punch which the recipient doesn’t see coming. Otherwise, punching is mostly a bunch of embarrassingly wild swinging.

It hurts to be squarely punched in the face. It also hurts to squarely punch someone in the face. Your hand explodes in pain. I don’t like pain. That said, real fights end up with a bunch of rolling around on the ground.

Another thing about real fights. No one gets punched in the face repeatedly and keeps fighting. Nor do you punch anyone in the face repeatedly. The human head is hard. It’s like a bowling ball with a few soft places on it. Go punch a wall five or ten times and let me know what you think.

At a certain age–maybe 30–I realized that people who are willing to fight might be dangerous, especially if they, too, were in their 30’s. These folks also tend to carry weapons, because they’re looking for trouble. I don’t want even a remotely deadly weapon used on me. I don’t want to throw a punch and miss, only to end up with a Chinese throwing star stuck in my forehead.

One possible exception is that I might fight a younger man. Why would I do that? Wouldn’t youth put me at a terrible disadvantage? Possibly. However, don’t discount the power of being Old Man Strong. We all reach an age where our years create a certain toughness without us even knowing it. Some suggest that perhaps we lose the will to live and become fearless. I prefer to think of it as God’s way of rewarding us for surviving.

When I was in high school, a friend of mine foolishly punched his dad. His dad didn’t flinch. Old Man Strong. Fight over.

So, if you’re a young fellow, be careful. If you get mouthy with an old guy and he just chuckles or, worse yet, takes a step toward you, run. It may be all that saves your dignity.

CONCLUSION

This is hardly a comprehensive list of things I won’t be doing. Such things as starting a meth lab, amateur pornography and polygamy are also taboo. These, though, are things I wouldn’t have ever done, as far as you know.

I’m not perfect. Maybe one day I’ll be shooting basketball with my kid, and you’ll wander into my yard spewing about politics and telling me to reduce the MSG in my diet. Like Clint Eastwood in Unforgiven, I’ll take a swig of whiskey and then start a fight with you. Let’s try to avoid all that.

©thetrivialtroll.wordpress.com 2013

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Superman, Court Storms and Other Random Musings

My mind spins with random thoughts.

SUPERMAN

The only comic book I ever read much was Superman. I loved Superman. I loved the Superman TV show with George Reeves. Honestly, I don’t understand why I loved that, but I did. Even with body padding, George Reeves made for a decidedly unfit looking man of steel. Jimmy Olson, as played by Jack Larsen, looked like he could whip Superman’s ass. Of course, that may have had something to do with the fact that Larsen appeared to be in his 30’s playing the young Olson.

A new Superman movie comes out this year. I hear it’s a darker Superman. I guess he’s a troubled soul. I don’t buy that. Superman isn’t troubled. He’s Superman.

Now, I’m hearing that there may be a Justice League movie. You know the Justice League–Superman, Batman, Wonder Woman, The Flash and The Green Lantern band together to fight evil. Later, other more obscure superheroes joined. You may have seen the cartoon series with the wonderfully sonorous tones of Ted Knight as the narrator.

Here’s my question: Why the hell does Superman need to join up with these other so-called superheroes? He can do everything they can do and more. Super-strength, super-speed, super-vision, super-swimming. He can fly!! Oh, and he’s indestructible. Okay, he doesn’t have Wonder Woman’s invisible plane. Big whoop. Again, he can freakin’ fly! He’d kill Batman. Just flat kill him. The Flash? Be serious. Superman is so fast that he can turn back time. He’d catch The Flash and then beat the living crap out of him. I never even understood The Green Lantern. Superman can do everything he can do.

Let’s don’t even talk about Aqua Man. He has gills and can talk to sea creatures. That’s helpful–TO NO ONE!

So, that’s it. Superman has no business in the Justice League. Let them fend for themselves. Of course, when they get in a bunch of trouble, who will they call?

COURT STORM

Fans of the University of Miami (Don’t call it “Miami of Florida”) had the audacity to run onto the court after beating the Duke Blue Devils. If one followed the many breathless accounts (hundreds of which were via ESPN’s sundry media outlets), you would have thought two things: (1) This is the first time this has ever happened; and (2) Numerous Duke players were trampled to death.

Neither is true, but it happened to Duke so it’s a big deal. Coach Mike Kszwkfjkdsji (close enough) did as he is wont to do and hurled obscenities at the crowd. When asked about it, Coach K sounded like he had survived the Benghazi attack. Now, countless talking heads have had enough. This must stop.

Let’s first disabuse ourselves of the notion that Coach K is a potential Nobel Prize winner who just happens to coach basketball. He’s a tempermental, foul-mouthed coach. His mentor is the despicable Bobby Knight. He’s not a college professor. He’s a college coach.

Here’s what should happen. Every school’s fans should run on the court after every Duke game, win or lose–whether they are playing Duke of not. Just run wild. In fact, when Duke loses, fans in every arena in the country should rush the court when the score is announced. Let’s just make it a tradition like that crazy octopus-throwing thing in hockey. One exception should be North Carolina. Don’t ever do that against your big rival. It just makes you look sad and desperate.

I say we go a step further. Opposing fans should rush the court even when Duke wins. That should make Coach K completely mental.

I am a proud alum and lifelong fan of the University of Kentucky. We’ve had the court rushed on us at INDIANA UNIVERSITY! Indiana, winner of multiple national championships, poured onto the court after beating UK in a regular season game. They put it on the cover a phone book. We’ve had this happen so many times that the Southeastern Conference now levies heavy fines for it. Trust me, the SEC isn’t concerned about Arkansas fans going wild if they beat Auburn.

Imagine Coach K’s reaction to this.

The uninformed might ask: When do you UK fans rush the court? Answer: When we win the National Championship and only then to congratulate the players on doing what we knew they would do any way. I’m not saying we’d never do it during the regular season. As soon as we win a game that we fans don’t expect to win, I’m sure we’ll consider it.

TAXES

It’s tax time again. Pause. Are you done moaning? I pay a lot of taxes, and I’m fine with that. You know why? It means I make a good living. If I didn’t pay any taxes, I wouldn’t be making much money. I like making money. Now, I’ve known some folks who made a lot of money and didn’t pay taxes. Some of them went to jail. I’d rather pay taxes.

AMISH PEOPLE

Why are there so many Amish TV shows? I don’t get it. Amish Mafia? Amish people in New York? Young Amish running wild during Rumspringa. Evidently, the Amish are entertaining. Hmm.

I met an Amish guy once, I think. He had the beard, the hat and the poor-tailored clothes–that’s my stereotypical view of the Amish. But it was at a gas station. He was buying a bottle of water. That doesn’t seem Amish. We exchanged pleasantries. He had a bit of an odd accent. Nice enough, too. Yeah, he was Amish. He didn’t entertain me.

I don’t find the Amish any more entertaining than Mennonites or Hutterites. I grew up in Eastern Kentucky where we had some experience with Mennonites. They did mission work in Eastern Kentucky. That’s how pitiful we were. Mennonites thought they had it better than we did. Again, nice people but not a barrel of laughs, unless you think bonnets are funny, which they kind of are.

Of course, all this makes me think about Shakers even though they aren’t Anabaptists. I live near a historic Shaker village. It’s pretty nice unless–like me–you enjoy cable TV. The Shakers don’t marry or procreate, and they’re prevented from adopting. There are only three left, and they’re like 90 years old. Not much TV potential there.

The Amish do one thing entertaining. Sometimes, they hire men to replenish the gene pool. That’s right–hired men to impregnate their women just like in the movie A Boy and His Dog. You have to do it in front of the husband. There’s some reality TV for you.

SEQUESTER

Let us not speak of this again.

COMICS

Okay, I lied. I used to read Archie comics, too. I’m still haunted by why he rejected Betty. SHE THREW HERSELF AT HIM! I didn’t know any girls who looked like Veronica and Betty. Maybe that’s why I liked it.

I knew this kid who would steal your comics if he came to your house. We had to check his coat sleeves before he left. Oh, and he used to draw obscene things on Betty and Veronica.

Well, that’s it. Those are just a few random things rattling around in my head. I feel better now. Wait a second…what if Superman had been raised by an Amish family? Imagine the possibilities…..

©thetrivialtroll.wordpress.com 2013

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The Ultimate Facebook User’s Guide

It’s 2013, and I guess everyone on Earth is on Facebook now–maybe not everyone but a lot of people for sure. I first joined Facebook in 2008 as a way to snoop on my kids. That didn’t last long as I became intrigued, then fascinated and then addicted to its wonders.

In 2008, most people were playing games on Facebook. Mafia Wars dominated as your FB friends asked you to join their “mafia.” I never did. That gave way to Farmville, and Facebookers became virtual Oliver Wendall Douglases. They needed help building fences and barns and rounding up animals. It was like everyone was Amish after they logged on. Then came Words With Friends, CityVille, Poker and many more games. Now, there is a Farmville 2. We’ve come full circle.

A lot of people who know me well are surprised that I like Facebook. I’m not the most social person. In fact, I’m an intensely private person. Why do I like FB? First, I’ve caught up with dozens of people I would never have heard from again nor made any effort to do so. I know about their families and lives now. Second, I would never have contact with most of these folks otherwise. I don’t do a good job of keeping track of folks. FB fixed that. Third, it helps me to hear opinions of others and the good and bad in other folks’ lives. It’s good to be plugged into to the human race, even if it’s just by a PC or smart phone. Finally, it’s a way to interact with people without really having to fool with them. Perfect for me.

Even people who aren’t on Facebook know about it. They have co-workers, friends and family on FB. They’ll look at others’ pages and secretly pine to belong. Why don’t they? Usually, these folks are men who have deemed themselves either too busy or cool to be bothered with it. They’ll say things like “I’d never do that. I don’t have the time.” Translation: “I’m more important you are. Blah, blah, blah.” These are the same people who will join LinkedIn and make 2,000 connections, because they think it’s important. Look, I know housewives, doctors, lawyers, teachers, kids, CEOs, factory workers, journalists, accountants and unemployed folks on FB. You ain’t that important. Of course, there are the Luddites of the world for whom the whole thing is overwhelming. These are the folks still trying to figure out if they should get into texting. Don’t let any of these killjoys drag you down. If you want to live in the FB world, join us.

If you’ve never been on FB or if you are but you only log on every few weeks or months, there are some basic rules or guidelines which will help you enjoy the experience.

NO ONE LIKES A CREEPER

Imagine if your next door neighbor rarely left his house and, when he did, he didn’t speak to you. Yet, he would read your mail and stare in your windows. Sometimes, he would just stand in your yard. Even if you thought he was harmless, you’d get tired of this behavior. FB works the same way.

Don’t just go on FB to creep on other people. We’re not a shy lot, but we like some interaction. I’m not saying you have to post something every time you log on, but you can “like” a status or even comment on one sometimes. We won’t think less of you. In fact, we might “like” you right back. Even if we don’t, we’re unlikely to say anything. There is no “dislike” button. You might even get “poked.”

When you creep, I call it going Rondo:

Don’t go all Rondo on your friends.

Naturally, you might wonder: “If I post something, what should it be?”

WHAT SHOULD I SAY?

The good news is that there really are no rules beyond a certain unspoken PG-13 standard. Posters fall into several categories:

The Lamenter: This is a person for whom the world is a difficult and troubled place. He or she is ill, has ill family members, job and money woes and usually doesn’t sleep well. We on FB like these folks. They’re part of our virtual family. Plus, they make us feel a little better about ourselves. Vent all you want. We won’t judge you and, if we do, we’ll probably do it quietly.

The Prayer Warrior: This person is seeking or sending prayers for many things: the country, sick children, sick adults, the dead, the living and the unborn. He or she will post Bible verses and inspirational quotes from a variety of sources. If you have a problem, these folks will step up. Most people are like I am–we’ll take prayers where we can get them. It can’t hurt.

The Politico: This man or woman occupies either the far left or right of the political spectrum. He will post a long string of gifs and memes assailing his political opponents. Some of these will even be factually accurate. Many will be libelous. He also likes to quote people like Thomas Jefferson, John Adams, George Washington, James Monroe, Abraham Lincoln, Teddy Roosevelt, Calvin Coolidge, and Ronald Reagan. Oddly enough, these sources are quoted equally by both sides. You, too, can join in. Now, please understand that none of us change our opinions based on your posts, but we will be entertained, at least to some extent. If we’re not, we can always block you. You’ll never know.

Just like at the Thanksgiving dinner table or your local bar, droning on about politics will eventually offend someone. The good news about FB is that you can just log off and let other vent at you.

Sports Guy: Based on his posts, he lives for sports, not playing them but watching other people play them. If “his” team wins, he will gloat and insult other teams and their fans, not just the one “his” team beat, either. His very worth as a human being is tied to whether a team of people he doesn’t know beats another team of people he doesn’t know. These victories fill him with joy and make him superior to fans of other teams. He won’t post about anything else. The flip side is that when his team loses, his posts become disturbing and deranged. He is a lesser person, and he knows it.

The Worker: This guy uses FB to promote his job, whatever it might be. He’s usually selling something. That’s cool. I might want to buy whatever it is he sells someday. I’d rather buy from a virtual friend than a total stranger.

Music Man: This guys rarely posts, and it’s almost always music videos. Why? I don’t know. I’ll check one out every now and then. It’s harmless.

Animal Farmers: These are folks who like animals. Well, maybe they love animals. Almost all their posts are about animals. There is an endless supply of comical photos of dogs and cats on the Internet. All of them have been posted on FB. If, like me, you don’t find animals particularly entertaining, you can scroll through these posts. Besides, if you don’t love animals these folks probably aren’t targeting you anyway.

Crusaders: These folks are against bad stuff. Oddly, the bad stuff they are against is the kind of stuff everyone is against. They want you to “like” their posts if you’re against such things as child abuse, cancer, child pornography, violence against women and animal abuse. These are good things to be against. Post all you want about them but don’t expect any spirited debates.

Family Affair: These folks post only about their families, usually their kids. Their kids are uniformly wonderful and blessings from God. We all like to hear about kids, so join in. One word of advice–don’t get too real. If your kid caught the basement on fire with his meth lab or got stabbed by a hooker, you probably should keep that to yourself, unless you need prayers.

They also will ask you to “like” or “share” posts that say things like:

If your mother is a saint, your best friend and greatest person who ever lived, share this status.

They never post things like this:

If your mother was a crack whore who brought home a new “daddy” every week and burned down your trailer while smoking, share this status.

So, if, as is the case with too many folks, your parents or siblings were or are vile monsters, you probably shouldn’t post anything about them.

Tin Foil Hatters: They like to post links to various conspiracies, usually involving President Obama. Such things as implanted computer chips, Kenyan birth certificates and Muslim wedding bands are frequent topics. They never check Snopes.com, and if you tell them to do so, they’ll tell you that George Soros owns Snopes. You, then, will become part of the conspiracy. Try to not to become one of these folks. Then again, if you’re so inclined, the fact that I suggest you not do so will only strengthen your resolve to do so. The good news is that FB gives you a platform. If you carry on like that at work, you’ll probably have to see a doctor. On FB, we just scroll by you like people on the street probably do.

These folks also tend to think Facebook is evil. It’s sharing your profile and personal information and photos. It’s signing you up in Al-Qaeda. It’s garnishing your wages. They never explain why they want to be on Facebook, but they love to warn you about it.

Suckers: Facebook is a hoaxer’s playground. Folks on FB will believe anything. Follow the same rules you follow in real life. If it sounds too good to be true, it is. For example, Bill Gates, despite his vast fortune and philanthropy, is NOT giving away $5000 if you share a picture of him, even this one:

Also, no one won the PowerBall and wants to give you a million or even a thousand bucks. No beautiful women want to be your FB friends. If it doesn’t happen in real life, it won’t on FB, either.

Newsies: These posters assume that none of us watch or read any news, so they post links to news stories. Some are also Politicos, and their posts only reflect their personal views. Just like with music videos, it’s all pretty benign. Who knows? We might even learn something from you.

Posting Tourette’s: This is me–a person who just posts various and sundry things that pop into his head. We can’t control it. It just happens. It’s almost like we’ve allowed FB to replace actually thought. Think it–post it is our mantra. We’ll post anything–family photos, videos, gifs, memes, jokes, rants, links. We’ll tell you about last night’s dream, our meals, illnesses and travel plans. We’ll complain about work and our families. We’ll brag and moan about things. In short, we combine all the best and worst of the other posters into one, manic posting monster. We post so often that if you were to read all our posts in sequence you’d be privy to the inner workings of our minds. We’ll wear you out on any given day, but we tend to be entertaining–or annoying. But, we’re never boring.

WHAT SHOULDN’T I SAY?

Facebook is a free speech zone, but all freedoms carry with them responsibilities. There are, of course, things you shouldn’t do:

Keep it clean: This should go without saying, but keep it clean, folks. Foul language, nudity (especially your own) and links to pornography are all beyond the pale. Hey, I’ve got no problem with any of that, but there are plenty of Internet forums out there for that stuff. At least that’s what I’ve heard.

Good taste: I am vehemently against child abuse. Honestly, I don’t anyone who isn’t. But, on the off-chance that you have FB friends who need persuading, photos of beat up or dead children won’t help. And they gross out the rest of us. Same goes for dogs that have been abused and killed. We know that’s bad.

It’s Not All About Politics: If you’re a Politico, that’s fine, but remember: Not everything is about politics. Don’t screw up someone’s post by trying to twist into a political statement. Example:

Post: We just had a great dinner-Steak on the grill, green beans, mashed potatoes and homemade yeast rolls! Thanks to my beautiful wife!

Politico’s Comment: Be thankful that Michelle Obummer isn’t your wife! She’d have you eating sprouts!

The Politico has now invited others of his or her ilk to make similar comments and hijack your wall. Bad form.

No Jesus Jukes: The Prayer Warriors will do the same thing with the infamous “Jesus Juke.” It goes like this:

Post: We had a great time at the game! 23,000 people rocked the place!

Comment: I wonder how many people would show up if Jesus was there and no game.

Your well-meaning friend has just brought you down and made you feel evil for enjoying the game. Don’t do that.

SPELING

You may be like me and be a spellcheck illiterate. Years of word processing have eroded my spelling skills. I am far-removed from the brash young lad who finished second in the Loyall Junior High Spelling Bee in 1976. Facebook won’t help you.

Its and it’s have different meanings. Same with there, they’re and their. To, two and too are not the same. Facebook won’t help with these issues. You have to step up and take responsibility.

THE UNFRIENDLY

There may be occasions when you must unfriend someone or, God forbid, you are unfriended. It’s happened to me. Yes, me. A girl I dated in college unfriended me. I think it’s because it took just a few months for her to remember that she hated me.

Unfriending is a drastic step. It is the Internet equivalent of a slap in the face. You aren’t even worthy of being a pretend friend. Think about that. In real life, of course, we unfriend people all the time. We just quit talking to them. If it required some affirmative act, we’d be less likely to do it.

Now, Facebook won’t tell you that you’ve been unfriended. You have to be paranoid enough to notice. Let’s just say that some of us notice these things. And we don’t like it.

EVERY PICTURE TELLS A STORY

Post a few pictures of yourself. Maybe we haven’t seen you in years. We’re curious. “But,” you say, “I’m not a handsome person. It shames me.” Relax, my ghoulish friend. Most of us are quite unattractive, especially those of us with a few years on us. We’ve gone bald (mostly men), gained weight, grayed, sagged and generally decayed. It’s okay.

I’m a good example. I was never what you’d call a handsome man. Now, my hair is gray and I have numerous wrinkles. Yet, I’ll post many photos of myself. Why? Well, for one thing, I’m a narcissist. Two, I’m not bald. See? You look better than someone–hopefully.

Perhaps you’ve improved with age, which happens. If so, by all means, post photos. Of course, if you really have improved, I don’t have to tell you to post photos.

One thing to watch is posting pictures of other people. They might not like it. For instance, I posted this photo of my wife:

This made her angry because–she claimed–the lighting made her look pale. I should have cleared this with her first.

Please feel free to post as many photos of your kids and grand kids as you wish. God knows I do. They’re yours, and you should be proud of them. Even if they’re as homely as sin, we’ll still “like” them. Same goes for your pets. I have two rabbits and don’t hesitate to post about them, even though they are boring, do-nothing pets. Yet, people always “like” them. Go figure.

CONCLUSION

Come join us! If you’re already on board, get in the deep end of the pool! Join for real, too. Do not share your Facebook page with your spouse. This will only show that you have trust issues, and we want to trust you.

It’s out there waiting for you, and there’s no time like the present. In fact, I’m linking this post to Facebook as soon as it’s published.

You can even send me a friend request, and I’ll probably accept it. I’m waiting.

©thetrivialtroll.wordpress.com 2013

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Papal Bull: A Modest Proposal

Pope Benedict XVI recently gave his two weeks’ notice. He’s resigning. I didn’t know the Pope could do that, but he can. After all, he’s the Pope. His real Pope name is Papa Benedictus Sextus Decimus, which is a bery cool name, indeed–much cooler than his real real name, Joseph Ratzinger.

Now, there will be a new Pope. Who will it be? I know there’s an election and something to do with smoke being released when it’s over. It’s not like the Dalai Lama where they go find some kid and name him Pope. It’s also not like royalty–the celibacy thing prevents that from being effective.

My friend, Larry, suggested that I throw my hat in the ring (it’s a regular hat, not a big Pope hat–not yet). I’m not Catholic which could be problematic. Larry may or may not be Catholic, but his idea intrigued me. Having failed in my quest to become football coach at the University of Kentucky, why not shoot for Pope now?

I don’t know what the qualifications are to be Pope. Catholicism on at least some level may be a prerequisite. Maybe it’s like the U.S. Supreme Court–you don’t have to be a judge or a lawyer, but it helps. I also don’t know how you get on the ballot. So, let’s just treat this as my registering to run for office. So, here we go.

As full disclosure, I’m married and have three children. I don’t think this disqualifies me. Some old-time Popes were married and had children before they became Pope, just like me. My wife would be a fine Popess or Vatican First Lady or whatever. My kids might be a bit unruly for the Holy See, but–hey–Lucretia Borgia was a murderer and her Dad was the Pope. Mine aren’t likely to be that bad.

I don’t have time to become Catholic. I know people who have converted to Catholicism, and it is a long process requiring counseling, classes and study–even prayerful reflection. It’s harder than becoming a Shriner. I’m a busy man, and I simply don’t have time for that. This will be especially true when I win the election and am burdened with Poping duties.

I also want a really cool Pope name. There has already been a Pope Hilarius (a funny, funny guy, by the way). Of course, they was Pope Simplicius (also known as The Dim Wit Pope); and Pope Hyginus, the cleanest Pope. Linus, Liberius, Sixtus, Boniface, Innocent, Urban, Felix (huh?), Stephen, Julius, Eugene, Nicholas, Leo, Pius and many other Pope names are available. There has never been a Pope Todd or Kevin or Earl. My name is John, possibly the most popular Pope name, but I don’t want all those Roman numerals after my name. I’m the Pope, not the Super Bowl. Besides, there have been so many Pope Johns, that they’ve lost track of them. I don’t want my number all messed up. Plus, there’s already a Papa John. I don’t want folks calling the Vatican wanting pizza. If elected, I’ll hold a contest via Twitter and Facebook. NAME THE NEW POPE! My personal choice is Sexius Beastus Superius, but I’ll let the people decide.

I’ll rock the Pope Holy garments. I know the Pope wears an alb, because I have two friends who are Catholic deacons, and they wear albs. My alb will be more like a bathrobe but encrusted with jewels. Think Ric Flair but with overtly religious overtones. I’m not wild about the dress the Pope wears or the red shoes, but I can take those on rare, formal occasions.

Nature Boy Ric Flair modeling one of my choices for Popely garb

I will tone down the hat. Okay, I’m sure the hat has a holy significance, just like the staff or cane he carries. But, I’m a baseball cap kind of guy. The hounds-tooth hat, fedora, bowler or derby don’t look right on me. The Pope Hat would be particular difficult for me. I also favor wife beater t-shirts and sweat pants. I’m sure those can be modified to a more dignified look for the papacy.

My Pope Hat

I want the Pope car, the famed Popemobile. I know that the Vatican doesn’t like it being called that, but I love it. I’ll have a fleet of Popemobiles, Popecycles, Popeboats, Popecoptors, Poperockets, Pope Jet Packs and Pope Hovercrafts. You’ll know me when I show up–in style.

I’ll have a steep learning curve what with my almost total ignorance of Catholicism. I assume that the Vatican–like any government–has a staff of long-time civil servants who can show me the ropes. How hard could it be, really? Get me an alb and a sensible hat, and I can fake my way through it until I get the hang of it.

Once elected, I will embark on the most ambitious Popely agenda ever. Among my many reforms will be the following:

No more Latin. We’re going all English all the time. I’m almost certain that God speaks English. Why shouldn’t we?
The vows of poverty and chastity are going to have to go, at least for the Pope. As the first Protestant Pope (as far as I know), I can’t be expected to get bogged down in all that minutia. That’s for Catholics.
We’re going to simplify all the kneeling and chanting. As a non-Catholic, I’ve found myself baffled to the point of delirium attending Catholic church services of any sort. Kneel, say something, repeat this or that, etc. It’s exhausting. We’ll install light-up signs like in TV studios that will tell everyone what to do and when to do it. Problem solved.
There’ll be no more indulgences. You step out of line, and that’s it. I’m not running a loose ship.
I’ll immediately issue a papal bull putting an end to this University of Notre Dame nonsense. One of my first acts will be to read off a list of all the Catholic universities in the United States and show their overall sub-par performance in athletics. If that doesn’t work, I will simply display a huge photo of Digger Phelps with the caption: IF GOD FAVORS YOUR SCHOOL, EXPLAIN THIS!
I will officially declare that any comical photos of empty dresses, chairs, etc., describing Manti Te’o’s girlfriend to be mortal sins. It was funny at first, but it’s grown tiresome.
Wilt Chamberlain’s former home in Bel Air will become “Vatican West,” because…well…it’s cool and so was Wilt. It will also be known as the Wilt House.

Vatican West

I’ll re-institute the Crusades. At first, we’ll start small, terrorizing the Italian countryside. If that goes well, we’ll branch out. Perhaps we can go somewhere like New Guinea and give everyone a deadly strain of the flu.

You’re probably wondering why I want to be Pope. First, have you seen where the Pope lives?

The Pope’s turf. Not too shabby.

Next, the Pope is just generally well thought of by folks. Okay, there was that one nut job who shot John Paul II, but think about this: He was shot 5 or 6 times and lived! Even Stallone couldn’t do that. There’s something to this Pope thing.

I also like the idea of papal infallibility. That would be a big confidence-booster for me.

According to some really sketchy research I’ve done, the official title is cool: Bishop of Rome, Vicar of Jesus Christ, Successor of the Prince of the Apostles, Supreme Pontiff of the Universal Church, Primate of Italy, Archbishop and Metropolitan of the Roman Province, Sovereign of the State of Vatican City, Servant of the Servants of God. (Okay, the “Primate” thing isn’t so cool, but I guess it’s accurate. As far as I know, all the Popes have been primates).

Finally, it would have to boost my standing with God. Now, the Pope isn’t a god, like the Dalai Lama or the last Emperor of China or Emperor Hirohito of Japan, but he’s pretty important. Given my many past transgressions, that has to help. It certainly can’t hurt.

Will I be a good Pope? It’s doubtful. But, I certainly won’t be the worst Pope ever. Come on, there have been so many Popes, at least one or two had to be terrible. Surely, there was a Franklin Pierce or Andrew Johnson among them. Now that I know I can resign, that takes some of the pressure away. Worst case scenario, I’ll be the Richard Nixon of Pontiffs.

If I can’t be Pope, I can be Antipope. There hasn’t been an Antipope in at least a few hundred years. As Antipope, I could claim to be Pope but not really be. I can even appoint Cardinals who will be called Quasi-Cardinals and Cardinal-Nephews or Quasi-Cardinal Nephews. I have cousins who might like that.

Oh, there will be some rough days ahead for the Church. I might cause a schism, maybe several. My tendency to addresses my audience as “You miserable bastards” will take some getting used to. But, I’ll do the best I know how, which is probably what every Pope does anyway. Remember: “No Pope, no hope.” I’ll be better than nothing. Or not. At least I’ll make the next Pope look good.

©thetrivialtroll.wordpress.com 2013

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Cheerleader God

Ray Lewis shows God His Lombardi Trophy

I’m a big sports fan. Huge, actually. I’ve ruined substantial chunks of my life grieving over sporting events in which I had no stake other than as a fan. None of the players or coaches knew me nor did they care one way or the other about how their pitiable performances affected me. Nevertheless, though, I grieved.

You know who else is a big sports fan? God. That’s right. Capital “G” God. The Big Guy. The Alpha and Omega. The Big I AM. How do I know that about the unknowable? Athletes have told me. Repeatedly.

Ray Lewis says so. God glorified him (or vice versa–sometimes it’s hard to follow Ray) with a Super Bowl win. After the Ravens’ win, Ray said “It’s simple: When God is for you, who can be against you?” That is pretty simple. God is all-powerful, all-knowing and omnipotent. If He’s for you, who CAN be against you? Well, a lot of people, really. The other team, for instance. Their fans. Maybe people who just generally hate your team or you personally. Atheists, too.

Ray’s simple observation begs many questions, of course:

Was God against Colin Kaepernick?
Was God for John, but not Jim, Harbaugh? If so, why?
What did God think of Beyonce?
How about the guy in the suit that John Harbaugh screamed at? What sin did he commit?
What was God’s deal with the Harbaugh parents? For or against?
Why didn’t God see that holding call on Crabtree? Or did He see it but smite the officials with blindness, because he was for Ray?
Is possible that God was on the side of Michael Oher, the guy from the movie The Blind Side, and Ray just benefited from it?
Why did God turn out the lights in the second half?
What kind of God would allow Destiny’s Child to reunite?

If it were just Ray, it wouldn’t be that big a deal. Other athletes are just as bad–or maybe it’s good. Boxers praise God–right after they beat the holy crap out of someone. “Thank you, God, for giving me the strength to inflict permanent brain damage on this other child of yours.” Basketball players do it. Baseball players. Everyone who wins has God on his or her side. Some invoke Jesus, which is really the same thing except with a decidedly Christian take.

That’s right. God picks sides. He’s picked the World Series, Super Bowls, NCAA Championships, fights–you name it. There isn’t enough hard drive in the Cloud to list all the athletes that have credited God for their wins. God plays favorites. No doubt. God is definitely a Calvinist when it comes to sports.

The uncomfortable flip side of this is that God clearly dislikes certain teams and athletes, too, not to mention their fans (like me). This is rarely acknowledged, with one notable exception. Former University of Kentucky football player Stevie Johnson is now a star wide receiver for the Buffalo Bills. A couple of years ago, he dropped a potential game-winning touchdown pass. Just dropped it. Stevie saw the hand of God in it.

Stevie Johnson’s ill-tempered tweet reflected a lot of fans’ thoughts.

Predictably, Stevie took a lot of heat for this. But, if you are a sports fan, haven’t you at least thought this before? Sure you have. Of course, I remember Stevie catching a touchdown pass to beat the University of Louisville. An act of God, for sure.

I’ll confess that I’ve prayed to God about sports. “Oh, mighty God, PLEASE let this free throw drop!!!” Of course, this type of prayer is fruitless, but I’ve done it. My life as a sports fan has proven and disproven the existence of God many times:

Jim O’Brien hits a last-minute field goal. Colts beat the Cowboys in the Super Bowl. No God.
Roger Staubach hits Drew Pearson with the original “Hail Mary” pass in the 1975 NFC Playoffs. God lives!
UCLA beats Kentucky for the 1975 NCAA Basketball Championship. No God.
Six months later, the Reds rally from 3 down to win the 7th game of the World Series. Big God!
Jackie Smith drops a touchdown pass against the Steelers. Cowboys lose the Super Bowl. No God.
Kentucky wins the 1978, 1996, 1998 and 2012 NCAA basketball championships. Big, big, big, big GOD!!
Christian Laettner hits a three to beat Kentucky at the buzzer in the 1992 NCAA Regional Finals. There is a God, and He hates me.
Billy Gillispie is hired as Kentucky’s basketball coach. God hates Kentucky.
John Calipari is hired as Kentucky’s basketball coach. God actually loves Kentucky but has a twisted sense humor (see Gillispie, Billy).
University of Kentucky Football: No God or at least not one that will let us be great at two sports.

I, for one, refuse to blame God for this.

For brevity’s sake, I won’t list the other 200-300 examples. One can readily see that I have struggled to see God’s handiwork in my life as a fan. For others, look no further than this year’s NCAA Football Championship. Notre Dame has Touchdown Jesus, but Alabama whipped them like Samson breaking bad on a bunch of Philistines.

The problem is that for each instance in which I have been crushed by a sporting event, others have felt an equal and opposite reaction. Call it Newton’s Law of God In Sports. He loves one team and hates the other. Okay, maybe He doesn’t hate them. Only if you’re a member of the Westboro Baptist Church do you embrace the hating God. But, at the very least, He’s cruelly indifferent to the other team and its fans.

How does this happen? Do the other fans pray better? Are the players better people? If so, what can I do to help my team? If more of our fans pray will that tip the scales? Or is the quality of the prayers, rather than the quantity, that matters most? It’s hard to say, really.

What about Tim Tebow? By all accounts, he’s a fine young man, sincere in his faith and an all around good guy. He played quarterback for the Denver Broncos in 2011 and won a bunch of games. Now, truth be told, he didn’t play particularly well, completing less than 50% of his passes. Yet, he won or, more accurately, his team won. Many folks attributed this to God. Tebow is a Christian, and God wins games for him. Many of my devoutly Christian friends manically cheered for him, as though he was the first Christian to ever play in the NFL (I don’t think he is, by the way). Then Tebow got traded to the Jets, because the Broncos preferred Peyton Manning at quarterback. Tebow barely played for the Jets and did nothing to help them win–to the extent the Jets did win. Did God turn his back on Tebow? Doubtful. Tebow just ended up on a team that didn’t want to play him. Like Tebow, Danny Wuerffel was also a Heisman Trophy winning quarterback from the University of Florida and a devout Christian. He had no success in the NFL. Why? Because that’s sports, not God.

Now, you’re thinking: “What’s your point?” Here it is: God isn’t picking games. If he did, the parochial schools would never lose, and Bob Knight would have never won a game. God is God, which is a good thing, but one can only hope that He is occupied with more important things than Ray Lewis’s retirement and my desire to see a teenaged college student make a free throw.

I won’t even belabor the obvious such as the horrific injuries–and even death–suffered by athletes. If you’re a sports fan, you can think of an almost endless list of vile humans who have excelled in sports. What about cities like Chicago and Cleveland? What are they–the Sodom and Gomorrah of sports? If God is picking sides, surely he could cut them a break.

So, the next time you think God has picked your team or favorite player, remember that just means He’s back handing someone else. Eventually, He’ll show you the hands, too. Now, don’t get me wrong. There’s nothing wrong with praising God. Some believe that He demands it. It’s just that suggesting He won a game makes as much sense as crediting the military for it. After all, we should be thankful for our soldiers, too, but let’s be reasonable.

Okay, now God, UCLA has 11 NCAA basketball titles, and Kentucky has 8. Do you think you could see your way clear to…..never mind.

©thetrivialtroll.wordpress.com 2013

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World War X-MAS

None of us will ever forget where we were and what we were doing when we heard that war had broken out against Christmas. Once the War on Christmas began, our lives were never the same. Sorry to be a smart ass. I can’t help it.

Are you a soldier in the War on Christmas? If so, which army? How’s it going? Looks like Christmas is winning, but it depends on whom you ask.

As a matter of full disclosure, I must tell you that I like Christmas. Check that. I love Christmas. I always have. I’m tempted to lie and say that it’s because of some religious fervor that possesses me. That’s not it. I just love it. The presents, music, decorations–all of it. My house is a garish display of lights. We buy our kids too much stuff and don’t care.

My home is a prime target for a drone strike in the War on Christmas

Once when I was about 6 years old, I got so fired up one Christmas morning that I sat down and drank like 6 glasses of milk. Why? I don’t know. I just went mental. I puked, too. I was totally unhinged with excitement. But, that was before the War.

Unlike most wars, this one creates debate about whether it even exists. The War even has its own website. Not surprisingly, Fox News has its own web page devoted to the War. If it’s on the Internet, it has to be real. Even the Pope was accused of attacking Christmas by quite correctly pointing out that December 25 isn’t really Jesus’s birthday. Others are just as adamant that there is no war. So, whether you are a far left atheist still mourning the untimely murder of Madeline Murray O’Hare or a hard right evangelical longing to feel the lash of religious persecution, there is a camp for you.

It is said that Christmas is a time for giving. For many, it is a holy time to celebrate the savior of their religion. These folks, of course, are Christians. Generally speaking, they’re good folks. Like any religion, the loudest and most profane are typically front and center, giving a black eye to the larger flock. Many Christians believe that there is a war being waged against Christmas. I suppose it would be inappropriate to call it a Holy War, but they are convinced nonetheless that they are in the midst of a struggle to preserve Christmas. I don’t doubt that they believe there is a war and that it must be fought tooth and nail.

Of all religious holidays, Christmas certainly has spawned its own secular division, with Santa Claus and the elves leading the way. Evidently, we are so unlikely to freely give gifts to children that someone conceived that a fat man and a bunch of elf/slaves was more believable. Flying reindeer, too. For the most part, though, Santa and Jesus have peacefully coexisted. Despite appearing to be the logical choice to lead this war, Santa seems to be sitting it out. As a result, I’m not sure who leads this gang of misfit toys assailing Christmas. I’ll just attribute it to the Liberal Elite.

If the War on Christmas has Commander in Chief for the defense, it may be Bill O’Reilly. You know Bill. He’s Fox News’s agent provocateur. He developed the modern TV interview format where you ask a guest a question and then shout until he or she gives up trying to answer. Bill sums up his view of the War as follows:

See, I think it’s all part of the secular progressive agenda — to get Christianity and spirituality and Judaism out of the public square. Because if you look at what happened in Western Europe and Canada, if you can get religion out, then you can pass secular progressive programs like legalization of narcotics, euthanasia, abortion at will, gay marriage, because the objection to those things is religious- based, usually.

Wow. Judaism? Uh, Bill, Jews don’t think Jesus was the messiah. Not sure what the point is on that one. Of course, Bill’s larger point is that it’s part of a conspiracy to destroy society. I’ll admit that Bill sees a lot of things in the world that I don’t, but he’s bound to be right sometimes. Let’s take a closer look at the bloody front lines of the War.

Christmas greetings are controversial. I don’t know anyone who is grossly offended by a greeting of “Merry Christmas!” Now, I’ll admit that I’m a bit of home body and live an insular lifestyle. Maybe there are people who curse and stomp and throw things when they hear this common holiday greeting. If you’re one of those people, lighten up. It’s no big deal.

What I DO hear a lot of is people offended by “Happy Holidays!” It’s Christmas, damn you! I know people SO offended by this they vow not to patronize businesses that dare to offend with this greeting. Why? I guess it’s because they’re afraid they’ll be euthanized after having a narcotics-induced abortion. I don’t really know.

As always, children are also casualties of war. On Facebook, this meme is making the rounds:

This is the world that many people inhabit. Anti-Christian thugs coming after our children

This hasn’t happened to my children–yet. I realize that this cartoon is a bit a hyperbole used to illustrate some point. My kids have always had parties at school around Christmas time. Okay, they don’t officially call them Christmas parties, but that’s what the kids call them. I’ll admit that they don’t re-enact the Nativity. They also don’t participate in pagan rituals, unless eating a bunch of sweets is pagan.

When I was kid, we had Christmas parties at school. We even had a Christmas play. I was a shepherd. Is this horrible? I doubt it. Is it a questionable use of school time? Maybe. It probably didn’t harm anyone, with the possible exception of my one classmate who had to sit in the hall in a chair. She was a Jehovah’s Witness. Actually, it may have harmed me. No six year old kid wants to be paraded out in front of the entire school in a bathrobe. Oh well.

1968. Your author (L) gives his mother an unforgiving stare. At least she didn’t make me wear a towel on my head like the poor lad next to me.

Much of the War is a matter of semantics. Of course, people may be too politically correct these days. With Christmas everywhere, it’s a little odd to say “Happy Holidays.” A “Merry Christmas” here and there shouldn’t offend. Generally speaking, it doesn’t seem to have that effect. The same should be true of “Happy Holidays.” After all, it is the holiday season. Christmas, Hanukkah, New Years Day are all holidays to some extent. Even pagans can celebrate the Winter Solstice which must be some kind of holiday, too.

I may be part of the problem, if there is one. I tend to say Merry Christmas to people, without giving a thought to their religious views. I’ve never gotten a response of “THERE IS NO GOD!” or “I AM JEWISH, YOU BASTARD!” Maybe I’ve been lucky. I’m much more concerned about saying “Happy Holidays” to the wrong person.

Some people don’t like “Xmas.” Put Christ back in Christmas, they say. They take it as a secular attempt to remove Jesus from his own holiday. This isn’t true, of course. The “X” is the Greek letter Chi which is used as a shorthand for “Christ.” Oh well, never let the facts get in the way of righteous outrage.

Retailers seem to be the prime combatants in this war. Rage is directed toward them for the use of “holidays” instead of “Christmas.” In some cases, it was the result of such silliness as Lowe’s calling its Christmas trees “Family Trees.” I don’t know if this justifies religious outrage, as much as it does treating them like marketing dolts. Who ever bought a Family Tree? Not me, that’s for sure. We already have Family Trees, otherwise we wouldn’t know any of our relatives.

Even Santa Claus isn’t spared. Some folks don’t like the emphasis on Santa. After all, he isn’t Jesus, now, is he? Of course, he isn’t. In the 1960’s, a particularly vile anti-Semitic preacher named George L.K. Smith claimed that Santa was the product of “World Jewry” (whatever the hell that is) designed to supplant Christ. After all, “Santa” almost spells “Satan.” That can’t be a coincidence. See how easy it is to join in?

You want to know who the real anti-Christmas warriors were? The Puritans. Those tight-asses hated Christmas. Hated it. They hated it so much that they outlawed all the traditional celebrations. Now, that’s a war.

As with most wars, the government plays a big role. People like Christmas trees, and the government wastes a lot of resources trying to decide what to call them. At the end of the day, few people care that they are, in fact, Christmas trees. Naturally, there is litigation over Nativity displays and the like. Even though they don’t offend me, I can understand that one might think the government shouldn’t be in the practice of endorsing any particular religion. I’m not sure I could get fired up enough about it to spend any time in court.

Of course, some folks believe that the U.S. was founded as a Christian Nation™, despite strong historical proof to the contrary. It’s not my job to disabuse them of that notion, although I would note that our government didn’t even bother making Christmas (or anything else, for that matter) a holiday until 1870. (Surprisingly, our founding fathers weren’t all eaten up with the Christmas spirit. In fact, the first session of Congress was held on Christmas Day. Talk about a bunch of Scrooges.)

Truth be told, in our country, no religious holiday is given the same deference as Christmas, with the closing of businesses and government services and a non-stop marketing onslaught which starts just after Labor Day. Employers are not only expected to give their employees time off work but also to give them extra money–a Christmas Bonus, no less. We don’t do that for Easter, the holiest of times for Christians. We don’t do anything at all for Rosh Hashanah or Yom Kippur. Try starting a holiday for Laylat al-Qadr. You might end up in Gitmo for your next evening of prayer. Even our entertainment is Christmas themed. Turn on the radio and scan the stations. Bet you’ll hear a Christmas song or two. What about TV and movies? Christmas, Christmas, Christmas.

John Lennon wrote a song called Merry Christmas (War is Over). I don’t care for it, just as I don’t particularly care for many of his post-Beatles songs. But I do think that this war, whenever it started, is over. Christmas won. So, when you hear “Happy Holidays” or get a card saying that, take heart. Merry Christmas is implied. We know that’s what they really mean don’t we?

As lawyer, I’m quite fond of quotations. The Kentucky Court of Appeals penned my favorite legal quote, which is particularly applicable here:

In the celebrated case of Prewitt v. Clayton, 21 Ky. (5 T.B. Mon.) 4, this court, through Chief Justice Bibb, observed:

‘“A bear well painted and drawn to the life is yet the picture of a bear, although the painter may omit to write over it, ‘this is the bear.’”

By parity of reasoning, the bear does not lose its basic characteristics if the artist dubs it a horse.

The First National Bank of Mayfield v. Gardner, Ky., 376 S.W. 2d 311, 314-315 (1964). The same applies to Christmas. A bear is a bear, and Christmas is Christmas. Neither one is a horse.

Ultimately, this is a battle among the secular (Santa and the elves); the religious (Baby Jesus and the Wise Men); the anti-religious (Atheists); and the religious non-Christians (everyone else). In other words, the Americans. Nothing is more American than disagreeing with each other. We’ll fight amongst ourselves about anything. It’s the American Way. So, choose a side and weigh in. It’s fun.

Oh, I almost forgot. Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays! Now, what are you going to do?

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Five Issues I Don’t Care About (Maybe)

We’re less than two weeks from the Presidential Election. Regardless of the outcome, it’s the end of the Republic. At least that’s the consensus on social media. That’s unfortunate.

People on social media have many, many important things to say about the upcoming election. Some folks post dozens of times a day about it. I don’t mind. Just because I don’t do something doesn’t mean you shouldn’t. I’ve watched every episode of Here Comes Honey Boo Boo. Last night, I watched a full hour of Call of the Wildman. I’m sure you wouldn’t do that, but it’s okay for me.

I can read those political posts or ignore them, just like I do posts about kids or dogs or people with awful diseases. Social media is the ultimate free speech zone. The best thing about all of it is that it makes me think about the issues that matter most–or least–to me.

I live in Kentucky, where we have no say in the Presidential election. By the time we have our primaries, both major parties have chosen their nominees. In the general election, no one seems to care about our paltry eight (or whatever pitiful number it is) electoral votes. I don’t think President Obama could find Kentucky on a map. Mitt Romney has been here, but that was only to raise money. So, my vote may not count, but I don’t really care.

I’m not a political animal, but I do vote. I’m fairly well-informed on the issues that matter to me. Those, of course, are the important issues of the day.

I’m concerned about the nation’s debt. Personally, I’ve never had debt problems. I live within my means and don’t borrow money. I would be a poor legislator.

I don’t like our country becoming a territory of the Chinese government. We owe them money, and they make all our stuff. Okay, not all of it, but a hell of a lot. They also control the minerals we need to make things like computers. Seems like a bad deal.

I don’t like our dependence on the Middle East for oil. Until we started sucking at their collective petrol teat, these countries were irrelevant. They’ve had us by the short hairs now for 40 years.

I’m also an unabashed supporter of the U.S. coal industry. The hate of coal is so virulent that we even have people who protest the exporting of coal. If you’re anti-coal, you don’t get my vote. Pretty simple.

There are also many, many issues which don’t move the needle for me. Now, understand that doesn’t mean they aren’t important nor does it mean that they shouldn’t be important to YOU. But this post is about ME. If that bothers you, try not to be so self-centered.

So, what DOESN’T matter to me? The list is almost endless. For brevity’s sake, I’ve distilled the list to the five issues which matter the least:

RELIGION: Specifically, anyone else’s religion. Mitt Romney is a Mormon. Some people say the LDS church is a cult, although Billy Graham doesn’t list it as one anymore. I suppose that’s progress. My grandparents were Mormons. So are a lot of my relatives. I like Mormons. That said, I’m not a Mormon, and I don’t really care if Romney is one. One caveat to this is if you don’t like him because he’s a Mormon. Then, it matters but only in a contrarian kind of way.

So, I don’t care about a politician’s religion. Okay, if someone were an avowed Satanist, I might care about that. Obama is a Christian. Good for him. I don’t care. Some people say he’s a Muslim. If he were, it wouldn’t mean anything to me, either.

Now, if you insist that I believe your religion, I probably will care about that. I wouldn’t vote for anyone who demanded that I believe as he or she does. As Thomas Jefferson noted, whatever you believe won’t break my leg or pick my pocket. I would note, however, that you might use it as an excuse to do both.

Now that I think about it, maybe religion does matter, at least to the extent that you try to shove it down my throat. Or break my leg. Hmmm.

PEACE IN THE MIDDLE EAST: Here are some sample headlines I intend to trademark:

MARKETPLACE BOMB KILLS [fill in number]
SUICIDE BOMBER KILLS [fill in number]
UNREST REPORTED IN [fill in name of Middle Eastern country]
[fill in name of Middle Eastern country] THREATENS ISRAEL
ISRAEL VOWS RETALIATION AGAINST [fill in name of Middle Eastern country]
FERRY SINKS, KILLING [fill in number]

If I got a nickel every time a variation of these is printed, I’d retire in six months. Any of these could have been a headline any day in the last 40 years. Okay, maybe not the ferry thing, but have you ever noticed how many ferries sink in other countries? I don’t know if it happens in the Middle East, but it seems like it would.

Here’s a pointer for anyone running for office: THESE PEOPLE DON’T GET ALONG WELL! They don’t geehaw, as some say. They aren’t ever going to get along. Ever. Anwar Sadat tried to make them get along better. What did he get? The Nobel Peace Prize and shot to death. There’s a lesson in that.

Here is what I want to hear a future president say:

Today, I’m pleased to announce that the U.S. has imported its last barrel of oil. To our friends in the Middle East, I say, on behalf of all Americans: You can kiss our red, white and blue ass from now on!

It’s possible that I might care about this if there were a candidate who said that he or she didn’t give a damn about it. Then, you’d have my attention. So, I guess I care about it to the extent that I want a candidate who also doesn’t care about it.

IMMIGRATION

Bitching and moaning about immigrants is as American as apple pie. My German ancestors were despised in Pennsylvania. The Irish were hated in New York. Jews were despised for decades. Italians? You bet. Vietnamese? Bingo. Japanese? Hell, we put them in concentration camps–and they were U.S. citizens! We’ve even been prejudiced against Africans, and we FORCED their ancestors to come here.

Now, people piss in their beers about Hispanics. Quit acting like it’s because of illegal immigration. Our history shows that we don’t like immigration, period–legal or not. Hispanic folks have the added disadvantage of looking different. We don’t like people who don’t look like us, whatever it is “we” think we look like.

We’re all immigrants, except the Indians, who aren’t really Indians at all. I’ll grant you that our borders shouldn’t be sieves. That said, I don’t care how many Hispanic or other folks are in our country. They’re here, and we don’t have any way to deport all the folks here illegally. Quit pretending like we do.

Wow. I got pretty fired up. I think I do care about it. Weird.

JOBS

I need to explain this one. I do, of course, care about unemployment. It’s just that no politician can convince me that he or she will create jobs. How, exactly? The government has to spend huge amounts of money to actually hire people. We need to spend less money, not more.

Even the most conservative politicians will call themselves as job creators, usually by pointing to some success in the business world. What exactly are you planning to do–hire all the unemployed people?

Now, if you have a plan to strengthen our private economy, I’m all ears. I may not be persuaded, but I might at least listen.

Now, that I think about it, I’ve always had a job. Maybe I’m not the best person to weigh in on this one. Of course, I’m not concerned about it. I better reserve judgment. Depending on the outcome of the election, I guess it could be an issue for me.

TAXES

Okay, I pay a lot of taxes and don’t want to pay more. I do, however, understand that there could be times when tax increases are needed. My problem is that my taxes are increased by a government that never decreases its spending. It’s like loaning money to your drunk brother-in-law who will pay you back when he gets a job. Of course, he won’t get a job because he’s drunk and keeps spending your money. As long as he gets your money, why get a job?

I don’t believe any politician who says that he or she will never raise taxes. Mitt Romney says that he wouldn’t increase taxes even if it resulted in a tenfold benefit to the government. That’s hard to believe. In fact, it’s impossible to believe.

I’m also dubious of politicians who increase spending and then make the case for higher taxes (see Obama, Barack). If you decreased spending and then needed more revenue, maybe I’d be persuaded. If you spend more, I would expect you to need more cash. Try spending less and then check back with me. Have you ever asked your boss for a raise because you owed a bunch of money to people? Try it.

The fundamental problem is that the subject of taxes is fertile ground for lying. No one ever won an election on the platform of “Vote for Me. I’ll Tax The Hell Out of You.” Whatever you say about it, you might be lying. If you say you’re going to raise MY taxes, that’s probably not a lie, but–like any right thinking America–I can’t support that radical agenda.

Now, if you’ll cut my taxes, I’m down with that. Now that I think about it, I’m against raising my taxes and all for lowering my taxes. I guess I do care about it, at least in a completely self-absorbed sort of way.

So, there they are. Things don’t matter to me, but maybe do now, upon further reflection. I hope this is helpful to you when you vote on November 6. If not, I don’t care. I think.

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Why So Serious?

I’m a lawyer. I recently tried a case in which my relationship with the judge was, to put it mildly, contentious. During a break in the proceedings, the judge told me not to be “so grim,” because what we were doing was not “that serious.” Of course, that was wrong. It was certainly serious for my client who was paying me. In the words of attorney Brendan Sullivan during the Iran-Contra hearings, I am not paid to be a “potted plant.”

Why so serious? It’s a serious world, my friends.

I suppose there are degrees of seriousness. If I lost that case, which I did, my family would still love me, the sun would shine and all God’s children would still be happy. Those things–true as they may be–don’t mean that other things mean nothing. When the judge ruled against me, I shook everyone’s hand, thanked the judge and then retired to the stairwell with my client. We both then spewed a long string of unprintable obscenities.

Was it a serious situation? Yes. Was it the end of the world? Of course not. Seriousness isn’t an all or nothing proposition. Things can be serious with being dire. For example, one can be seriously ill without being terminal. Likewise, if one is rarely ill, any illness may seem serious at the time. It’s all matter of perspective.

As I get older, my peers have become more serious. They huff and puff and pontificate about the state of the world. They criticize young people. They criticize old people, They bemoan the decay of society. In other words, they are adults, and they act like adults. That’s what adults do, you know. They peer over their reading glasses with brows knitted and offer their take on everything. And all it’s all serious. Make no mistake; there are serious things afoot in this world.

“Politics is not a game. It is an earnest business.” Winston Churchill

These being the High Holy Days of politics with the Presidential election looming, we spew forth about politics like Mount Vesuvius. On social media, in particular, the opinions are many and varied, but fall into five broad groups:

Those on the left who despise everything and everyone on the right.
Those on the right who despise everything and everyone on the left.
Those who despise everyone. Period.
Those who despise all those who post about politics.
Those who despise all those who don’t post anything about politics.

Politics is all serious all the time, of course. I have been told numerous times that this is the most important presidential election in history. An astute friend of mine suggested that just maybe the 1860 election was more important, given that we actually owned other human beings at the time. To most of my peers, that minor historical event pales in comparison to whatever is chapping their rumps right now.

The reason for this, of course, is that we’re all alive now and weren’t around in 1860. Surely, slavery wasn’t as bad as Barack Obama being a Muslim or Mitt Romney a tax cheat or whatever ever other bizarre theory one might embrace. Even more rational concerns like the economy, national and endless wars have to be worse than anything any other generation has faced.

It’s not all that grim, of course. I support Mitt Romney, but I’ve heard a lot of funny jokes about him. It’s okay to laugh. If he loses, the republic will survive. It will. It also won’t mean that I’m a lesser person. Plus, I live in a state that has almost no influence on the outcome of the election. Lighten up. Life remains good.

“That which doesn’t kill you usually succeeds on the second attempt.” Mr. Crabs, SpongeBob Squarepants

Want to know about a serious time? World War I. It wasn’t a popular war. You could be arrested for publicly criticizing the war effort. It was The Great War. The war to end all wars. Right.

It was also during the time of the Spanish Flu Epidemic. So many people died of the flu that mass graves were dug in some cities to handle the dead–in the United States. Stories were told of people starting to cough on trolley cars and bleeding out before they got across town. Read the excellent book The Great Influenza by John Barry. Serious stuff. They even had a catchy little poem for the Great Flu: There was a little bug; It’s name was Enza; I opened the window; And influenza. I’m sure that it would be treated seriously if happened today, except we would waste out time trying to figure out which political party was to blame. Be glad we don’t to deal with that stuff.

6,000,000 dead in 12 weeks. How would you like to wake up to this headline?

While it may be true that the great issues of the day must be sternly addressed, these aren’t the worst of times. Not by a long shot. Read a history book. There were a lot of times that really sucked.

“Old men declare war, but it is the youth who must fight and die.” Herbert Hoover

Our country has been at war for 11 years now. That’s some serious stuff, for sure. It’s funny (not ha-ha funny) how people don’t talk much about that, except when someone wants to take credit for something good (which, by the way, rarely happens). The United States entered World War II in December of 1941 and was done by August of 1945. Even the Vietnam War didn’t last this long.

I suspect folks my age (50) don’t talk much about it because we don’t have much to say. We are the No War Generation. The draft ended before I turned 18. Even if there were a draft, you could have avoided it if you were clever enough. Even I had joined the military, the 1980’s was a decade of saber-rattling, not saber-drawing.

As a result, we don’t have a moral high ground from which to demand that young people go die for us. We didn’t do it, why should they? Of course, that ground isn’t so “high” for anyone, is it? Have you ever noticed that folks who suggest that people go get killed rarely are at the same risk? There’s also the sticky problem that we want them to die for Afghans or Iraqis. It’s a messy, sad business. We’d rather not talk about it. The best can muster is “Support Our Troops” or “Pray for the Military” or other slogans that makes us feel better.

We take our wars seriously.

It’s good that we take great pains not to criticize our soldiers, even if we criticize our politicians. People dying is serious stuff, no matter the reason. I suppose that some day we won’t kill each other over real estate, but that time isn’t upon us, yet.

“The sports page records people’s accomplishments; the front page has nothing but man’s failures.” Earl Warren

Our sports are serious business, too. When our teams win, we crow as though we actually played in the game. We are just slightly superior to those who cheer for the losers. Wait…who am I kidding? We’re VASTLY superior to those losers! We’ll post scathing insults on social media about opposing teams and their fans. If our team loses, we’ll even insult our own team. Their losing has diminished our lives. We are lesser human beings as a result. I am as guilty as anyone with this. I will be crestfallen because a bunch of men (or children) I’ve never met lose a game to a bunch of other strangers. They’ve let me down, even though they don’t know I exist. It all makes perfect sense to me.

Of course, there is the flip side of the sports fan coin is the sports-hater. This person is the one who bemoans how seriously we fans take it. Ironically, these folks take it just as seriously, but their seriousness is their hate of sports. Usually, they are pseudo-intellectuals who are “above it all” and unable to understand knuckle-dragging sports nuts. Here in Kentucky, they denigrate our state university for emphasizing sports, primarily basketball. In their world, Kentucky–an impoverished state–would be an academic titan if only it would play intramural basketball. I’ve never understood that argument and don’t care to.

My teams win and lose. They aren’t my teams, of course. It just seems that way. When I feel the veins in my neck throbbing, I take a deep breath and say to myself: “I have no influence over this. Relax.” Someday, that might just work.

“It does me no injury for my neighbor to say there are twenty gods or no God.
It neither picks my pocket nor breaks my leg.” Thomas Jefferson

I think we can all agree that this Jefferson was some kind of nut. Nothing is more serious than religion. We’ve turned much of the world into a graveyard fighting over it. We will revise history to make religion more important than it ever was. I know people who will sternly lecture others that our country was founded by a group of Christians, based on Christianity and that the U.S. is a Christian nation. No amount of historical fact will change that view.

Consider the following:

As the Government of the United States of America is not, in any sense, founded on the Christian religion,—as it has in itself no character of enmity against the laws, religion, or tranquility, of Mussulmen [Muslims],—and as the said States never entered into any war or act of hostility against any Mahometan [Muslim] nation, it is declared by the parties that no pretext arising from religious opinions shall ever produce an interruption of the harmony existing between the two countries

What is your reaction to that? Who said such craziness? The Congress of the United States. In a treaty with Tripoli adopted without debate. In 1799. Just reading that language will make some people go nuts. Can you imagine Romney or Obama starting a speech with “The United States is not–in any sense–founded on the Christian religion….” Goodbye White House. Hello, Kevlar jumpsuit.

People believe what they believe. So do I. If you’re a missionary, go ahead work on changing minds. Otherwise, chill. Life goes on.

My point, if I have one, is that religion is serious business. Our own nation has been attacked by religious fanatics. History has had crusades, ethnic cleansing and genocide all in the name of religion. It’s serious stuff. Don’t joke about it–unless you have a sense of humor. Look at around at His creation. God has a sense of humor, too.

“One of the symptoms of an approaching nervous breakdown is the belief that one’s work is terribly important.”

Bertrand Russell

As lawyer, I belong to serious crowd. In fact, there may be no group which takes itself more seriously. Why? Lawyers aren’t the coolest crowd in town. Many–most?–of us reached a level of newfound coolness when we became lawyers. No more having your lunch money stolen or being stuffed in lockers. It’s Revenge of the Nerds, devoid of all humor.

Typical future lawyers enjoying their undergraduate days.

This isn’t to say that our jobs aren’t important. Our clients face jail, monetary loss (or gain) and other issues which are of great importance to them. For those of us who are litigators, any case we have might be the most important legal problem our client will ever have.

Even though the issues we handle are important, we too often translate that to mean that we are important. Each case is referendum on our skills and worth as humans. Lawyers also pride themselves on working long, thankless hours. Ask a lawyer if he or she is busy, and you’ll get a diatribe about it–whether it’s true or not. It is little wonder that lawyers have high suicide rates.

Sometimes, I want to do this in court. I usually don’t do it. Usually.

We’re not all that important, of course. If I quit my job today, someone else will represent my clients. Life will go on. The same is true of all jobs. So, lighten up.

I conclude this, as is my wont, without making any particular point. Life is not, as folks my age would have you believe, a grim trudge to the grave. Life is good, as they say. They know more than I do. The only thing that really matters is what’s going on at the moment. The rest of it either already happened or may not happen at all.

So, take it easy. Seriously.

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