Political Commentary

I have never before published anything of a political nature on my blog. But this is too good to pass. I do so love a good play on words.


John's Chicken Farm:

John was in the egg business. He had several hundred young layers (hens), called 'pullets', and ten roosters to fertilize them. He kept records, and any rooster not performing went into the soup pot and was replaced.

This took a lot of time, so he bought some tiny bells and attached them to his roosters. Each bell had a different tone, so he could tell from a distance, which rooster was performing. Now, he could sit on the porch and fill out an efficiency report by just listening to the bells.

John's favorite rooster, Obama, was a very fine specimen, but this morning he noticed Obama's bell hadn't rung at all! When he went to investigate, he saw the other roosters were busy chasing pullets, bells-a-ringing, but the pullets, hearing the roosters coming, would run for cover.

To John's amazement, Obama had thought of a way to do it without work, he had his bell in his beak, so it couldn't ring. He'd sneak up on a pullet, do his job and walk on to the next one. John was so proud of Obama, he entered him in the Chicago County Fair and he became an overnight sensation among the judges.

The result was the judges not only awarded Obama the No Bell Piece Prize but they also awarded him the Pullet Surprise as well.

Clearly Obama was a politician. Who else but a politician could figure out how to win two of the most highly coveted awards on our planet by being the best at sneaking up on the populace and screwing them when they weren't paying attention.

Vote carefully next fall, the bells are not always audible.

The Gerbil-like Qualities of My Mind

Like countless millions of others I studied some psychology in college. It was a requirement for graduation. As such, or perhaps because the introductory subject matter really is simple, the class was easy to pass. Psych 101 was held in a packed lecture hall conveniently close to the student union building where I could always find a game of pinochle, cribbage or backgammon to join. I did not attend class regularly.

Studying the generally accepted principles of human behavior seemed a waste of time, and I had little-to-no interest. I was particularly put off by references to salivating dogs and the theoretical application of those experiments to human behavior. A slobbering canine, me?

I was offended to a lesser degree by experiments on lab rats, especially experiments involving a maze. While I thought most of mankind, certainly myself, to be more intellectually developed than the average rodent the experiments were at least interesting to watch. A colleague and I even figured out a way to bet on the outcomes.

Sleek white-furred bodies, noses sniffing and twitching as they worked their way along corridors of sameness; I am certain it was fascinating to some, but most assuredly not applicable to my life. Besides, the incentive/reward system and its applicability eluded me. I would still cut class to pursue a game, a girl or a greenback. And they served beer in the student union.

I now have the ability to apply some of the lessons and principles (as far as I can recall them) in my life, and I can often... regularly... sometimes... occasionally discern my own stimulus/response patterns of behavior. So much for maturity. My brain functions more like a group of rodents dropped into a maze all at once, each taking off in a direction of its own, at varying paces, indecisive at times, charging ahead at others, reversing course frequently, doubling back on itself, climbing over other rats (thoughts), short-cutting over walls, stepping on other furry bodies, milling aimlessly. It's chaotic to watch, exhausting to live.

A Goodbye

They part at the edge of substance.
Henceforth, he will be shadow
in a land of shadow.
And she - she too will be going
slowly down a road of cloud,
weightless, untouched, untouching.
This is the last crossroad.
Her right hand in his left
are clasped, but already,
muffled in his acceptance of fate,
his attention recedes from her.
Her left hand rises, fingertips trace
the curve of his warm face
as it cools and fades.
He has looked down his road,
he is ready to go, not willingly
yet without useless resistance.
She too accepts the truth, there is no way back,
but she has not looked, yet, at the path
accorded to her. She has not given herself,
not yet, to her shadowland.

Easy to Love

It is easy to love Him
when the blue is in the sky,
When the summer winds are blowing,
and we smell the roses nigh;
There is little effort needed
to obey His precious will
When it leads through flower-decked valley
or over sun-kissed hill.

It's when the rain is falling
or the mist hangs in the air,
When the road is dark and rugged
and the wind no longer fair,
When the rosy dawn has settled
in a shadowland of gray
That we find it hard to trust Him
and are slower to obey.

It is easy to trust Him
when the singing birds have come,
And their songs of praise are echoed
in our hearts and in our homes;
But it's when when we miss the music
and the days are dull and drear',
That we need a faith triumphant
over every doubt and fear.

And our blessed lord will give it;
what we lack He will supply;
Let us ask in faith believing -
on His promises rely;
He will ever be our leader,
whether smooth or rough the way,
And will prove Himself sufficient
for the needs of every day.

This Is My Back Yard

In my own back yard is Pebble Beach, California. Back yard is a bit of a stretch, as if I could ever afford to live there. But it is near where I park at night and I do have access to its beauties. It's name speaks of one of its treasures, beautiful polished stones that can be found along the shore. Raging white surf churns almost continuously, thundering and pounding against the rocks on the shore.

These stones are trapped in the arms of merciless waves. They are tossed, rolled, tumbled, ground and rubbed together against a jagged cliff. This process of grinding and polishing continues relentlessly, day and night.

The result is highly prized, beautiful stones that tourists from around the world seek to take home. They are collected and displayed, coveted by many who see them. Yet just up the coast, around the next point of land is a quiet, protected cove. Tranquil and protected from the storms, its sand is covered with an abundance of similar pebbles not sought after by visitors.

Why have these stones been left untouched through the years? Simply because they have escaped all the turmoil and grinding by the elements. The quietness and peace have left them as they always were - rough, unpolished, lacking in value - for polish is the result of difficulties.

The Reason Most People Are Bad...

is because they don't try to be good. - L. Frank Baum

This is the victory that has overcome the world, even faith. (1 John 5:4)

Sobriety asks that I keep walking into life. Recovery is exactly that, the recovery of life and purpose. The life and purpose I would choose to recover are no longer available to meb. Walking into life feels more like groping my way in the dark now. To be sure, I am not alone. God is present but keeping to Himself lately. And as I grope in inky blackness I have found it to be a maze of walls and no doors. To keep things interesting, the occasional step is encountered, just enough to cause a trip or stumble, but no falls.

With so much time to feel my way through I realize I have come up on 18 months sobriety. The "gift of sobriety" it is regularly called. But the gift is not bringing the joy I have sometimes felt. I am struggling with the gift concept. I'd like to exchange it for some happiness, or an apartment and a job, maybe for the medications I have run out of and cannot afford to buy, or a tune-up on my truck.

Gifts should be practical, not abstract, but they might be both I guess. A hot shower, for example. An abstract concept as a gift, unless you have limited access to a facility, then it becomes practical. But I stay with the concept that gifts should have some practical use.

I am struggling with sobriety. I am not seeing the promises come true in my life, unless the Big Book excerpt "we are going to know a new freedom..." is considered. That's about it. Freedom may well be anther expression for "nothing left to lose."

But trusting in the Giver of all good things, even when it appears I have been forsaken; praying, even when it seems my words simply vanish in a vast expanse where no one answers; believing that Gods love is complete and that He is aware of my circumstances and cries with me; desiring only what God's hand has planned for me while seemingly starving to death; and my greatest fear being that my faith will ultimately fail - "this is the victory that has overcome the world."

Because I Said So

Wow. I so hated that response from my parents. My repeated badgering of "But why?" and "Why can't I....?" coupled with my unwillingness to accept their answers would ultimately bring on the "Because I said so!" Experience taught me to cease my pestering immediately when that point was reached. Persistence beyond that moment would bring a painful swat.

Much of what God reveals to me in my prayer and meditation seems to take that form when I ask, "Why?" I have come to the conclusion that He does things that way in order to increase my actions based on absolute faith. He hasn't swatted me yet, but He has allowed me to suffer consequences for mis-behavior.

"What if he did this to make the riches of his glory known to the objects of his mercy." (Rom 9:23) Paul's reference precedes a reference to Hosea 1:9, "for you are not my people, and I am not your God." God's people had turned their backs on Him in all but name during Hosea's ministry. Not a lot different than many today. And God was angry and hurt by His people's pursuit of idols - adultery, possessions, materialism.

Yet God cannot deny His love for His chosen and offered hope for the repentance of Israel. "I am now going to allure her; I will lead her into the desert... There I will give her back her vineyards." (Hosea 2:14-15)

The desert is a strange place to find vineyards. Can it be true that the riches of life that we need can be found in the desert - a place that symbolizes loneliness, and from which we can seldom find our way out unaided?

Yes, God knows our need for a desert experience. He knows exactly where and how to produce enduring qualities in each of us. It may mean the stripping away of earthly riches, imprisonment, the removal of support systems, persistent feelings of confusion or abandonment - His pruning of our lives may take dozens of forms.

The person who has been idolatrous, has been rebellious, has forgotten God's words, has said with total self-will, "I will go after my lovers" (Hosea 2:5), will find their path blocked by God. To be certain, the strong-willed will find a way around Him, but when the feelings of hopelessness and abandonment set in, God will say, "I am now going to allure her; I will lead her into the desert and speak tenderly to her." (Hosea 2:14)

God has lead me into some hard, difficult and lonely places, and it has been there that I realize I am where eternal streams wash over me.