Sunday, October 23, 2005

Home Alone With The Rain

The day has finally arrived. Texas has taken its begrudging turn for the cold in the fourth week of October. The sky is dark and rain drizzles down, and I'm alone in my house with the clicking of my keyboard and the laboring hum of a fridge.

The IOOF Cemetery (International Order of Oddfellows) is located across the street from my home. I look through my patio door a flash of lightening diffuses over a tombstone, shaped like a scaled-down Washington monument, that reads: BONER.

What a last name. "That's Mister Boner to you."

I feel ill at ease today, as if I'd just heard a prolonged choral scream from the future that was so agonized it reverberated into the past. There are days when I feel regret and fear for the human race. Those days pass quickly, as I begin to chide myself for being so damned melodramatic, for taking the whole experience of life much too seriously. If we are to be destroyed (by ourselves, no less), then let us at least go down with a good gut laugh.

Question of the day... If a martyr was suffering on a cross in front of you, would you hold a marijuana cigarette to his lips to help him ease his pain? Or would you act like the hypocrites who care more for the letter of the law than the spirit on which its based? Or like the mobsters, who care more for money? I bet some of you fascists wish it weren't quite so difficult to handcuff a crucified man.

Here's a nostalgic image for the terrorists, mafia kingpins, corrupt politicians and narcocops who profit from the international drug war. Think about this picture the next time you get soused on booze. Remember, it wasn't the drunks who repealed prohibition. It was police officers, community leaders, parents, and children.


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