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The Road Less Traveled

Greetings and salutations. It’s been awhile since we talked, you and I. I suppose you can chalk that up to a number of reasons but the main reason is that I haven’t had much to say that would have a home here. This was a place that was brash, abrasive, in your face, and at times highly offensive. Looking back at a lot of the stuff I’ve written for this, I find that not all of it applies to who I am now. From what I understand, some people call that growth. Time ticks by, the seasons turn, and priorities change. I’m no longer interested in the political winds of this country. We did our part, and whether you agreed with us or not, a lot of what we said came to pass. Does that make us smarter than anyone else? No. It just means that we paid attention to trends. That’s all it was, and we presented it in a way that was impossible to ignore. We had some success both here and with the podcasts we did. We got noticed by some pretty big people and we went to war with the SOLR (a war we won) without care for the collateral damage. Some of our pieces went national which was quite an achievement for a group no one really cared about. As I said though, priorities change. My writing as of late has become far more personal than it ever has been before. I’ll be taking that elsewhere when I decide what to do with it. I know there’s a select handful of you who enjoy what I have to say so I will keep sharing it. This place is dead now. That being said, this isn’t a Eulogy, it’s more or less a piece of thanks. Thanks to you for taking the time to care what I had to say. I was wrong a lot of the time and I definitely came off as an asshole a time or two, but it always meant the world to me that people paid attention. There will be a lot more coming, but it won’t be like this and it won’t be here. Thank you for everything.

Hypocrisy Be Thy Name

Over the last year I’ve stayed away from political postings not just here but on social media in general. If anything, I’m finding my disdain for the platforms growing. Yet, every once in awhile, you cretins take me to my boiling point and I explode in a fury of ink and paper. This is one of those times. You see, my main driving principles are honor, integrity, and an almost maniacal sense of right and wrong. The current climate of today’s politics deeply offends all three as NONE of them exist. Republicans have brought back book burning, have labeled the other party as the party of pedophiles EVEN THOUGH a great number of republicans are currently facing sex with minor or Child porn charges. They want to ban a woman’s right to choose while throwing temper tantrums country wide over masks. January 6th, despite what some of you fools think, was an insurrection. You blindly hold on to the thought that it was anything but, but I had a friend that was front and center. The text messages that crossed my phone spoke of war and hanging the bastards. The republicans have become a party of simpering fools who have let themselves become beholden to a man who has no moral compass nor a single shred of loyalty to those who bow at his feet. Every time he scolds one of them in public, they grovel harder, as if they were children desperately seeking the approval of daddy. Two years ago this party hated Russia, despised Putin, and ridiculed the democrats for not being as tough on Russia as they had been. Now? Now they are Putin apologists. Groveling before the feet of yet another dictator. The center of the GOP moral compass is hypocrisy and power. Nothing else matters. Greg Abbot’s stunt with truckers down in Texas is causing real supply shortages, but let’s not let facts get in the way of a good story. Speaking of facts, we live in a post fact world. That half wit vampire Kellyanne Conway saw to that when she first introduced the term “alternative facts,” and like a bunch of bleating sheep, you idiots saw that as an opportunity to open your skulls and toss away whatever gelatinous mass you called a brain. You are the most detestable life forms on this planet.

If you’re a Democrat and patting yourself on the back after that paragraph, I’d advise you to stop. Your inability to do the right thing unless it is politically profitable makes you just as bad. When evil happens and you stand by and do nothing because it might cost you a few votes, you are no better. Republicans have gone after teachers, healthcare, social security, and literally anything else you can think of and your responses consists of sternly worded tweets. Year after year you prostrate yourselves in front of the American public. Weak and spineless, always thinking that taking the high road will work out in your favor even though it never, ever, does. Al Franken gets accused of inappropriate physical contact, and you force him out. Morality! Then you sit there neutered as Matt Gaetz finds himself in trouble for his involvement with a sex trafficking ring and the Republicans do nothing to punish him. You consistently lie to yourselves that the high road is the way to take down the Republicans. When you get destroyed in the midterms, maybe you’ll worry less about transgender Muppets, and focus more on not being spineless dicks.

This country hasn’t gotten dumber, we’ve always overinflated our intelligence from day one, but social media has given us a fishbowl look at just how ridiculously stupid we are. You better enjoy the next few years because with these two parties as our only choices…it’s going to be a rough couple of decades.

The Christmas Train

Jack Hindelang rubbed his temples with his right hand as the voice coming through the phone held up to his left ear droned on. “Come on, Jack, please stay with us. It’s not a burden or a bother and we would love to see you. It’s Christmas, Jack, you should be with family.” The voice belonged to his sister Ann. Though he wanted to respond with something ice cold, he merely responded with “I know.” He could hear a sigh borne out of frustration come barreling through the wires of his cell phone and into his ear. “Please, Jack, I know you’re hurting, which is all the more reason to be here, think of what Barb would want.” A vein slowly started to pop out on Jack’s forehead. He pressed his fingers into his temple as hard as he could until little floating black spots appeared in front of his eyes. What he wanted to respond with was “you don’t know a good goddamn about what I’m going through Ann! You and your husband are cozied up in your perfect little house in Delaware and I’m here in a DC train station wondering what the fucking point is. While we’re at it, get my wife’s name out of your mouth, you were never a fan of hers anyway so stop trying to act like you care now that she’s gone!” Instead, he took a deep breath and said “okay, Ann, I’ll think about it, I promise.” This time the sigh that was air mailed his way was one of relief. “That’s all I ask, thank you.” A moment later after a second of silence that seemed to last an eternity, she added “I love you.” Trying to muster as much emotion in his voice as he could, Jack responded with an “I love you too.”


When he heard the barely audible click of his sister hanging up, Jack quickly stuffed the phone into his black overcoat pocket and closed his eyes. The truth of the matter, was that he had absolutely no plans on going anywhere near Delaware. In just under a half hour he would be boarding a train headed for Golden, Colorado. From there, a rent a car (hopefully an SUV) up to an isolated cabin thirty miles west of Breckinridge. From there, well, that would be answered in good time boys and girls. He and Barb had purchased the wooden cabin on sight ten years earlier just after they had married. It was to be their retirement home, though until that time came to pass, it would be their little hideaway. Their personal secret from the world. By that time he was 36 and the youngest Operating Room chief ever at Fairview Memorial Hospital just outside the District of Columbia. Though they didn’t need the money, Barb had taken a job as a kindergarten teacher. They’d  each agreed that schedules were too busy for children of their own, but there was no doubt that little ones held a special place in Barb’s heart. “It’s like reliving the world through child’s eyes” Barb had said one night when they were discussing their respective work days. She loved those damn kids, he thought, but that was a lifetime ago. That was before the bad thing, before the world had decided to show a medically arrogant Jack Hindelang how little power he actually held over death. He reached up again and absently started massaging his temples again. Without warning, the film of that night started to roll in his head. Apparently the little projectionist responsible for the cinematic arena Jack referred to as his trailer reel memories didn’t give a shit about Jack’s current state. 3…2…1…ACTION, and the film rolled silently on. It was Halloween night just under two months ago. Fairview Memorial was a small hospital with a small staff, and on this night the Emergency Room contained two nurses, two doctors and one young, extremely cute but straight out of college PCT. As it was after hours, Jack was on call as the only operating surgeon that night. He was spending a quiet night at home since Barb was three counties over at her mother’s for the weekend. Suddenly the tranquility of his Saturday night was shattered by his work phone violently ringing and vibrating on the table next to him. “Well, fuck” he muttered under his breath. He answered the phone with a quick “go ahead” and heard Nancy Givens, an ER nurse, on the other end. “Doc we’ve gotta bad situation here, a car crash, patient is in bad shape. Doctor Zhang is taking lead on this but…” her voice trailed off until there was nothing but a deep, dark, silence separating them. After what seemed like hours she finally found her voice “doc, it’s…the patient is…it’s Barb.” A shockwave of confusion ran through his body and a thick cloud of fog had swirled into his cranium. “That’s…it can’t…she’s at her mother’s” Jack heard himself say though his voice sounded light years away. Another wave of confusion rolled over him as Nurse Nancy confirmed that it was indeed Barb. “Are you going to be okay, Doctor Hindelang? Would you like me to send a taxi for you?” He was dimly aware of the note of concern that had entered her voice. “I’m okay, Nancy, thank you. I’ll be there in just a few minutes.” He hung up and sat back for a moment. His mind focused for a moment, he picked up his personal cell, and dialed a number. A moment later a cheerful voice rang out a hearty hello. “Hi Darlene, it’s Jack, can I speak to Barb please?” A momentary pause greeted him followed by “Hi Jack, she asked me not to say anything, but she left a few hours ago, she was hoping to surprise you.” I’d say job well fucking done Jack thought. “Okay thank you Darlene, I’ll have her call you when she gets here. He hung up quite aware that perhaps he should have keyed her into the current situation. For what, though? I have nothing to tell her and I’m not even sure it’s Barb, it could be a mistake, someone that looks like her. He stood up, grabbed his work phone and his keys. Though he was moving with surprising speed, it felt to him as though he was slogging through knee deep mud. Every second had the feel of an hour and every step felt like three steps backward. He remembered opening the door that led to the garage and dropping his keys. He stopped momentarily confused before picking them up. Before he had managed back to an upright position, he had dropped them again. He looked down at the keys with a sort of grim amusement. I make my living with these hands and now that I need them I can’t even hold a fucking pair of keys. When he had grabbed them for the second time, he headed for his brand new green Jaguar (Jag-YOU-are if you wanted to be douchey) and slipped inside it. Moments later he was zipping down Arlington Street en route to Fairview Memorial.


As he pulled into the staff only lot at Fairview, he heard a voice not unlike his own fill his head. What are you going to do if it is, Barb, huh Jackie Boy? You know it’s against AMA practices to deal with family when another physician is around. You think you’re going to just pirouette through those doors, scrub up, and play hero? Jack rubbed his temples “shut up” he hissed to seemingly no one in particular. He exited the car and raced through the parking lot stopping only for a moment to swipe his security badge at the door. He raced down the narrow white hallway to the emergency room where Nancy was expectantly waiting. Without saying a word she turned and led him through a set of double doors and into the room in which Barb had been placed. As he gazed into the room two things struck Jack immediately. The first of these was that there was an awful lot of blood. The second was that the patient, his wife, his goddamn wife, was lying motionless on a table. “Abe, what the fuck is going on here? Why aren’t you doing anything?” His question was directed at Abe Zhang. “Hey Jack, I’m sorry man…when she got here she was barely breathing. The cranial pressure was the focus but before I could even get prepped for surgery she crashed. We’ve got her on life support right now but every time we take her off it her heart shuts down. I mean we could attempt a surgery to release the cranial pressure, but there’s just no way I see her holding on.” Abe walked over and put a hand on Jack’s shoulder, he tipped his head down so that his hazel eyes were looking over the top of his gold rimmed glasses. “I’m sorry, Jack.” Jack looked at him for a moment. With a voice that sounded a thousand miles away, Jack spoke. “No” he said quietly. “We aren’t giving up” his voice started to rise. “That is MY wife on that table! I will not stand by and do nothing, Doctor Zhang!” By now his voice thundered through the Emergency Room patient holding room area. Abe took a step back as if struck by a blow. “Jack, you can’t risk it. Look, I know it’s Barb, but you can’t let that cloud your judgement. She’s being kept alive by a machine, Jack. I’m sorry, I really am.” Abe held his hands out in a non aggressive stance. Jack looked at him numbly and walked over to Barb. He looked down at her face and saw that little pieces of glass were still jutting out of the pale, white, flesh of her face. He reached out with a thumb and lifted the eye lid of her right eye. Instead of looking into baby blues, Jack was looking into a reddish white ball filled with blood. The V neck white sweater she was wearing was mostly red and in tatters. He ran his hands gently down her sides and felt a rib give way. His eyes gazed down to her legs. The left one was twisted and bent at a horrifying angle. There were cuts, some deep, some not, over her body. Her nose which had been small and slightly pointy, was now flat and bloodied. Abe was right, there was nothing that could be done. His wife, the woman who had made life seem easier than it ever should have been, was breathing, but it was mechanical breathing. Breath produced by wires and plugs, not the breath of a woman whose body is in working capacity. Jack turned and looked at Doctor Zhang. His foundation was not as strong as it was a few minutes earlier, it was shaky, maybe on the verge of crumbling. “How did this happen, Abe? What the fuck happened?”

Abe looked at him solemnly and removed his glasses. He spoke softly and slowly, reverently. “The first responders that brought her in said that it had been the result of bad timing. She was heading East on Faraday Highway where it narrows down to one lane each way. Heading west was a truck driver who was having trouble staying awake. He crossed lanes and before your wife…Barb…could react, he had hit her almost head on. The car flipped a few times, she was unresponsive when they found her. They brought her here and, well…” Doctor Zhang’s voice trailed off into the night. Jack responded with a head shake and then spoke, “her mother told me she was coming home early to surprise me.” Jack took another look at Barb and the foundation crumbled.




The funeral took place a week later, at a small church just south of the border in Virginia near her parents house. There were a lot of tears, many stories were told, and towards the end even a few laughs. Jack’s brain was swimming in cloud of fog the entire week. Especially on the Monday before when he’d met with the hospital board. There were lots of condolences and long winded sentiments. There was also a list of reasons for their giving him a month of paid leave. So he had gone home, to an empty and now cold house, and sat amongst the ghosts of his memories. He had cried almost all of Monday night and all of Tuesday. He woke up on Wednesday and that’s when the idea of Colorado had struck him. They had met years ago on a snowy Christmas Eve. He’d been invited to a Christmas Party at a local bar. At this point he was just a new hire at Walter Reed medical. He had walked in wearing jeans and a red sweater with white reindeer plastered all over the front of it. On his head, hiding the crop of brown hair, sat a Santa hat. After greeting a few of his co-workers, he made his way through a throng of people, and that’s when he laid eyes on Barbara Carlson. Red hair spilling over her shoulders, hazel eyes ablaze as she worked her magic behind the bar. For a brief moment their eyes met, and that’s all it took. Before he left for the night, he had her number and a first date set up for the following week. That was a different time though, a time that seemed like a million miles away in a land far, far away. So the decision had been made, he would go to their little cabin in Colorado, and on Christmas Eve he would have one last rum with Dr Pepper (the Barbara special) and then he would join her in whatever afterlife she was in. Life without her had lost all meaning. Everything about the day to day process of life had become torturous. Waking up in the morning with nothing but a grief stricken heart was something he did not want to get used to. So he had gone online and purchased an Amtrak ticket for December 23rd. If delays weren’t an issue, he would arrive at the cabin by nightfall of Christmas Eve. By Christmas morning, the world would wake up without him in it. He just had to bide his time until then.


He had almost let the cat out of the bag the evening before Thanksgiving. Ann had called and begged him to fly up for Thanksgiving dinner. He had politely declined…three times. Determined to walk away with nothing but a yes, Ann had pushed until he’d finally had enough. Voices were raised, words were said, and Ann ever the victim, had let the crocodile tears flow. In any other situation, Jack would have bent just a little bit, but his fog swirled brain had no time for manipulations. He’d hung up and thrown his phone across the room, not bothering to pick it up until Thanksgiving was over and the madness of Black Friday had begun. “We’ll see how much you want to push when I’m no longer here” he’d almost yelled.




The trip down memory lane likely would have gone on for hours if the loudspeaker hadn’t announced that the 10:15 am to Denver was about to board. Jack picked up his black attaché case and walked over to the staging area. An older man with a blue uniform and a conductor’s hat that had the word Amtrak stitched in red across the front walked up to him. “Bit of a light train, son. You’ll practically have the train to yourself today.” Jack nodded not knowing what to say, and boarded the train. In his particular car there were two people seated. In the back row was an old man slouched down in his seat with a Time Magazine opened and laid over his face. The other, a nervous looking young woman, early 20’s Jack guessed, who was sitting arrow straight with a Vera Bradley bag placed properly in her lap. Her brown hair was tied up in a bun and her hands were clapped on top of the bag. She was looking around nervously and when her brown eyes met Jack’s she immediately snapped her head to the front. Jesus, Jack thought, if she’s like this on a train, what must she be like on a plane. Immediately he put the thought out of his head as he would never get the chance to find out. He found the seat listed on his ticket (6A) which happened to be directly across from the Nervous Nelly and her technicolor handbag. She looked over at him quickly, saw him looking back and quickly turned away. At least I don’t have to worry about small talk, he thought to himself. Jack removed his overcoat, set his case down on the seat next to him, sat down and leaned back as far as he could and placed the overcoat over himself before closing his eyes. Very soon now the slow chug of the train would signify their departure and he would be one step closer to leaving this miserable life behind.




Jack awoke to the click clack of the train rolling towards its destination. He yawned, rubbed the sleep out of his eyes, and looked at his watch. 10:45? It’s only been a half hour? Feels like it’s been years, Jack thought to himself. He looked to his left but Nervous Nelly wasn’t in her seat. He checked behind him, and neither was the old man who had been sleeping when he boarded. Before he could even attempt to piece together where they might have gone, a voice boomed from behind him. He whipped his head around to find the older man with the conductors hat from the station walking towards him. “Glad to see you made it on board, son.” The older man said, his voice husky and deep, almost Sam Elliot like. Before Jack could answer, the man spoke again. “Your presence is requested in the next car, Doctor Hindelang.” The older man must have seen the look of bewilderment on Jack’s face. “The name is written on your case” he said flatly. The bewilderment passed, “by whom?” Jack asked. The man gave a patient smile which seemed to add years to his features yet at the same time made him seem younger. “Mine is not to question, son, I do as I’m asked and I leave the questions for those who get paid to answer them.” What a strange answer, Jack thought. Nonetheless, he got up picked up his attaché case and followed the man. Before they reached the hatch leading to the next car, Jack turned around. He was startled to see both “Nelly” and the old man back in their seats. A brief moment of panic hit Jack deep in his chest. Were they there the whole time?


The thing that struck Jack immediately about the car that had supposedly requested his presence, was that it was completely empty. The man in the conductor hat had stopped walking a good twenty yards ahead of Jack and was staring at him with a rather curious look on his face. The car itself was not like the other, it was faded in age and the seats were wooden though they were more like benches than actual seats. There were windows on both sides with handrails above each side. The handrails were decorated with Christmas lights and long, flowing, pieces of evergreen wrapped and intertwined with the lights. There was a warm glow about the car and Jack felt all his panic and confusion dissipate. He looked up at the man and spoke, “What is this?” The man did not immediately respond. Rather, he held up both arms, and as he did so, Jack could swear the train was slowing down. “Are we slowing down?” Jack asked as the confusion started to rise again. The man smiled “this is a special car, Doctor Hindelang” he said warmly. “ It is a memory out of time, a relic and reminder of what was but also a tribute to what could be. You asked if we were slowing down and the answer to that is both yes and no. The car we are in will soon be moving so slow you’ll barely be able to notice. The rest of the train will still be moving at its normal pace. You see, Doctor, time moves differently here in this space. This car is the past, the present, the future, and all that might be. A stream of time that hasn’t been written yet.” The man popped the cuffs of his uniform proudly. “This car is reserved for only the select few who truly need it.” The man returned to smiling only this time it looked like there was a faint glow surrounding him. Jack laughed a little. “Supposing all that’s true, and I doubt very much that it is, what makes you think I’d need or even want a car like this?” The man continued to smile which was beginning to get on Jack’s nerves. “Doctor Hindelang, you may be keeping the purpose of your trip to Colorado hidden away from those who know and love you, but you can’t hide your heart completely. I’ve always been a believer that people can make any decision they choose to make, but some decisions should not be made without understanding the consequences those decisions bring.” Jack felt the incredulity spreading over his face. “You’re kidding, right? This isn’t real, is it? Two months of intense grief mixed with a little psychogenic shock has sent me over the edge. Yes, that’s it. I’m starting to go a little bonkers, the butter is getting a little soft in the middle, that’s all.” Jack turned around and tried to open the hatch leading to the next car. It wouldn’t budge. “SIT DOWN!” The voice thundered through the car, into Jack’s ears, and rattled his brain. Jack froze and slowly turned around. The man was still smiling, but there was something else, something raw about that smile. That’s the look of a man who is sick of your shit. Oh Jackie boy what have you gotten yourself into. If it is in fact a delusion, there’s no harm in playing along, at least until we get to Colorado. The man moved a few steps closer to him. “Please, Doctor, take a seat, any seat.” The man’s voice was warm again. Jack sat down on the back left bench. Once he was seated, he raised his hand. “You don’t need to raise your hand, Doctor, this isn’t a classroom.” Jack sheepishly lowered his hand though he hadn’t been totally aware that he’d raised it in the first place. “Is this some kind of A Christmas Carol bullshit? Am I a modern stand in for Ebeneezer Scrooge and you some wool uniformed wearing Jacob Marley?” Jack was surprised when the man released a deep roar of laughter. “No” the man said, “this is not a modern take on a Dickens classic, Doctor. That was about morality, about changing who Scrooge was as a human being. You are not an Ebeneezer Scrooge, Doctor, you are just a man who feels like there’s nothing left. That is quite a different tale altogether.” Jack let his answer sink in before speaking again. “So what now? Obviously you’re not going to let me leave, and I’m assuming that just sitting here in silence isn’t in the cards either. Where do we go from here?” The man’s smile turned into a giant grin. “I thought you’d never ask!” He raised an arm and snapped his fingers. Immediately the car went pitch black and there was a whirring sound as the left side of the car opened like a sliding door. Jack immediately scrambled backwards as cool air rushed his face. “What the fuck man, are you trying to kill me?” He screamed out half in anger half in surprise. The Amtrak man laughed “you are not in any danger, Doctor, I told you, this car is unlike any other. Go ahead, try to step outside the car.” In order to prove his point, the man walked over to the open side of the car and reached an arm out. Instead of exiting the car it was halted at the opening. “It’s perfectly safe, Doctor Hindelang, it merely allows for better visibility.”


“Better visibility for what?” Jack responded. There was no response. Instead, the train slowed to barely a crawl as a funeral home crept into view. “Bit of an odd place for a funeral home don’t you think?” Jack asked. “I mean we haven’t see a sign of civilization in ten minutes, just miles and mile of countryside.” Amtrak man laughed. “As I’ve said before, this is not an ordinary car. Now pay attention.” Jack looked back out through the space where the cars windows had been minutes earlier. In the mere moment it had taken to ask his question, the funeral home had located itself right next to the train, it’s doors opened far wider than physics would ever allow. Inside there sat a gathering of people in one of the viewing room. The sign, on a Black Placard in white letters, said IN MEMORY OF JACK HINDELANG. Jack spun around and stared holes of fire through the Amtrak man. “Just what the hell is this? Some kind of joke?” Jack fired off angrily. The Amtrak man looked at him with patience waiting a few moments before speaking. “I told you this car was special. It can show you the past, the present, the future, or even a timeline that hasn’t been written yet. What you see before you is quite possibly the future. In this timeline you make it to Colorado, you drown your sadness in a cheap bottle of whiskey, and then you kill yourself. That’s what you’re intending to do, this is just the aftermath. The consequences if you will.” The man raised an arm and pointed. Jack turned back and saw Ann, his sister, in the doorway with a young man who looked to be in his early 20’s. Her eyes were red and the tears had carved streaks down her cheeks. The young man placed a hand on her shoulder and spoke. “You don’t know me, but my name is Adam Walsh, I’m a resident at John Hopkins. Thirteen years ago, I had an aneurysm burst in my lungs. Your brother was the doctor who saved my life. When I left the hospital I swore that I was going to go to med school so that I could one day pay forward what he did for me. Please accept my deepest condolences, he made a difference to so many people.” On Ann’s end, this was met with little glasslike teardrops falling effortlessly from her eyes. They embraced and the young man made his way up front to the casket. Jack turned to the Amtrak man ashen faced and near trembling. “I remember him. He was ten years old, had an aortic aneurysm that burst during a little league baseball game. I thought for sure he was going to die on the table but he held on. Hell of a kid. I always wondered what became of him.” The Amtrak man only smiled in return. Jack turned back and gasped in surprise. It was Andrew and Linda, Barb’s parents. Jack found that his throat had become knotted and breath was not easy to come by. Andrew and Linda embraced Ann, all three of them in tears. Linda was the first to speak. “We are so, so, sorry Ann. We had wanted to reach out to Jack, actually did once, but he never called back. He was the best thing to ever happen in Barb’s life, he was like a son to us. We should have…” Linda was cut off by the barrage of sobs that suddenly overtook her. Andrew’s voice, normally strong and confident rang out next, only this time it was shaky, as if on the verge of breaking. “If there is anything Linda or I can do, please don’t hesitate to ask.” At that his voice broke and the tears fell again. Jack turned to the Amtrak man, eyes glistening, cheeks red and wet with tears. The man only raised his arm and pointed back towards the scene that was impossibly playing out before them. Jack turned his gaze back to the funeral home. Everyone had gone, Ann was sitting in a chair and she looked haggard, old. Her husband Henry Thomas walked up to her. “I’m going to go upstairs and clean up the dining area they let us use. Is there anything I can do for you?” His six foot four frame towered over her. Ann looked up and Jack was shocked to see a look on her face that he had seen every day for the last two months. She shook her head No and he departed. Panic suddenly surged through Jack’s body. “NO! GODDAMN YOU DON’T LEAVE HER!” Jack was now screaming at the scene before him. Back in the funeral home, Ann had removed a small snub nose from her purse and pointed it at her head. “I’m so sorry I wasn’t there for you Jackie.” She bent her head and pulled the trigger. “NO! ANN FOR GODS SAKE NO!” Jack’s head filled with sand and he saw the light fading vaguely aware that he was falling into darkness.


When he came to, he found himself back in his seat, with his case next to him and his overcoat draped over him. He looked to his left and saw that the nervous girl had, of course, a nervous look on her face. She spoke and her voice was flighty “geez mister, are you okay? Sounded like you were having one heck of a dream.”Jack studied her for a moment. “Uh, sorry about that.” Nervous Nelly shrugged it off. That’s it, it was just a dream. This whole thing was just a goddamn dream. He whipped his overcoat off of himself and then stared in horror as a blue conductor hat with AMTRAK embroidered in red across the front tumbled off his lap and on to the floor of the car.




On the morning of Christmas Eve, Ann Thomas was bustling about the kitchen making sugar cookies and preparing pastry bags to frost them with. She was in the middle of humming Winter Wonderland to herself when there was a knock on the door. Without thinking twice she waltzed to the door and opened it. Standing on the porch in full blues was a Wilmington, Delaware police officer.  His name tag ID’d him as an officer Williams. He politely removed his cap and spoke softly “I’m sorry to bother you on this Christmas Eve, ma’am, but do you have a brother named Jack Hindelang?” Panic started to swirl in her bowels and spread upwards. “Yes, officer, I do. Is he okay?” She asked tentatively not really wanting to hear the answer. Before the cop could answer, Jack stepped into view from the side of the porch. “Hi, Ann.” Confusion spread over Ann’s face. “Jackie?” She said questioningly. He smiled. “I’m sorry, I forgot what your address was and I wanted to surprise you so I didn’t call. Officer Williams here was kind enough to give me a lift.” Ann, momentarily stunned, jumped off the porch and wrapped her arms around him. “Merry Christmas, Jack I’m so happy you’re here.” Jack could feel the wetness from her tears against his neck. “Merry Christmas, Ann” Jack returned as a solitary tear rolled down his cheek.



-CJ Williamson 12-25-21


Your God Is A Dick

“I think God, in creating man, somewhat overestimated his ability.” -Oscar Wilde

“Fuck You.” – A lot of people

I’d like to preface this, if I may, by stating that this is not aimed at all of Christianity. It has a very particular audience, namely that weird creature who lives each minute of each day thinking they are occupying some formless, invisible, battlefield upon which they are fighting forces they don’t understand for a god they’ve never known. Of course I’m talking about Evangelicals. I personally tend to walk the “to each his own” line when it comes to religion, but things with these idiots have gotten so outlandish and buffoonish, that it requires, nay, demands a trip to the woodshed. As always, when it comes to me, the old idiom “if the shoe fits…” applies.

Dear Evangelicals,

Your God, like you, is a dick. He serves no purpose other than to serve as some dickish golden calf for a group of followers who are so brain dead, that not even Victor Frankenstein could bring you back to life. Your God is an amalgamation of some of the weirdest “moral” contradictions I’ve ever seen in my life. For instance, your God is pro-life, yet apparently believes school shootings are a conspiracy, thinks 800,000 deaths at the hands of a virus is no big deal, and wants to kill all those with opposing mindsets. Your God believes in Backing the Blue unless that blue happens to be guarding a Capitol building, in which case it’s fine to beat the shit out of them. Your God believes that the veterans of America are sacred, unless of course they support kneeling for the magic song and/or vote democrat. Your god believes All Lives Matter but loses his absolute shit when Santa (a FAKE character) gets a boyfriend. Your God believes that socialists are one of the great evils of the world, yet also holds sacred a pledge written by one. Your God is anti war and yet constantly threatens civil war. You’ll have to forgive me for thinking that your God is an absolute brainless dick with absolutely no redeeming qualities.

If you think I’m being harsh about your Republican Jim Morrison Looking Jesus, just wait until you find out what I think of you. There was an article on social media the other day about black actor Idris Elba potentially taking over the James Bond franchise. Makes sense, dude is good looking, has the accent, awesome actor, I can see it. One of the comments mentioned that making James Bond black is a communist plot to further the brainwashing of children. So out of curiosity I decided to find out what this guy was all about. His profile pic was a picture of a cross but instead of being a normal wood color, the cross had been painted red, white, and blue. I involuntarily eye rolled so hard I pulled a muscle in my eye (that’s a joke for those with no sense of humor). It never fails to crack me up how you fucking fools always seem to think Jesus is an American. It’s almost like you culturally appropriated the middle eastern Jesus, repainted him to look like young Obi Wan Kenobi, and stuck an American flag up his ass like some demented ventriloquist where everything dummy Jesus says is nationalistic and usually dumb as fuck. Satan shows up more in your dim world view than Jesus shows up on toast. You have the right to your beliefs, but I also have the right to tell you how utterly fucking retarded you are. Your views are short sighted at best, absolutely cartoonish and dumb at worst. You have this weird ass Handmaids Tale/Crucible view of the world in which witches and devils hide behind every single decision made by ANYONE that does not share your beliefs. Some of you have even gone so far as to give up your lives to go stand in Dallas fucking Texas awaiting the arrival of a guy who has been dead for over twenty years! I’ve got bad news for you, JFK Jr ain’t coming back, he’s dead, gone. I mean Jesus fuck….imagine believing that a dead guy is going to come back to be your Vice President and having the balls to think everyone else is crazy. Your brains are fried, and I’m not talking accidentally stayed out in the sun too long fried, I’m talking deep fried Turkey burning down the house fried. Your logic train derails itself almost immediately after it leaves the station, bursts into flames, and you act like it’s the most normal thing in the world. No wonder your god is a dick, he was created by people who take crazy to a level never before seen. All I can say is good luck, Baron Von Batshit, there’s nothing but disappointment waiting you in the end.

Jack Nicholson Was Right

Greetings, come on in friend, pull a chair up to the fireplace and don’t forget to grab a cold one from the cooler on your way. I know it’s only been a few days, four I think, since I spoke to you last, but this will be my last for a bit. To be honest, I’m exhausted and I really need to take a mental health break, though that’s a story for another evening. Tonight, though, we’re going to talk about truth. There was a movie back in the 90’s that most people really only remember because Jack Nicholson’s character had an explosive scene in which he screamed out “You can’t handle the truth!” The agonizing thing about that scene is that his character is right. People today can’t handle the truth at all. They don’t want it. Unless, of course, the truth is something that keeps them and their worldview in a sunny spot. People don’t want truth, they want comfort. If someone says “hey, I’ve had it, I’m going to off myself” there’s nervous laughter and a quick “you don’t want to do that” before the topic gets switched. Why? Because that throws the comfort and peace of life in jeopardy. That’s a red light. It means you might get hurt by the passing of a friend/loved one. If someone says, “yeah this country is definitely not the best country in the world”, there’s no reflection on why they might be staying that. Instead, it’s “if you don’t like it, move” or “anyone that says that is a pinko commie fascist!” Why? Because if we have to honestly sit and face the fact that this country is no longer the best, well, that’s a dick punch to our world view isn’t it? That means facing the possibility that maybe we’ve been wrong, and that flies in the very face of the foundation of American Exceptionalism doesn’t it? We’re never wrong. Colin Powell legit lied right to the faces of the world at the UN about Iraq and 9-11. We bombed and ruined a country on a fucking lie. Everyone knew it, but admitting it wasn’t a possibility. So we doubled down. We ruined the careers of a country band because they didn’t believe the bullshit. We changed the name of French fries to freedom fries and had wine smashing parties in the streets because the French refused to entertain war under false pretenses.

Take the whole “American Made” nonsense for example. We claim to want our goods manufactured here in the USA. Fuck that Chinese crap we only want to buy American. It sounds good, it’s very nationalistic, but it’s also bullshit. You want it American made until you realize that the price of American made is more than that of imports. You want Union made goods until you realize the price tag on those is 3x what it would normally be. I know because I spent 20 years in the promotional/wholesale goods business. A hat that comes from overseas will run 3.25 before decoration. An American made shop hat will cost 4.50. If it’s Union made and has the Union bug? Well, that’ll cost you 7.25 before decoration*. Not so agreeable with your pocket book is it? Nobody wants that truth.

Let’s talk about society while we’re on the topic of truth. Might want to grab another brew for this one. Ready? Did you ever watch Ghostbusters 2? The one with the rage inducing slime under NYC? I know, it wasn’t a cinematic masterpiece, but for this particular topic it’s somewhat relevant. In the movie, there’s a giant River of pink slime under New York City and it’s causing the people of that fine city to rage out more than usual. That’s where we’re at. Not the slime, but the rage. We are full of rage these days. We look at someone who doesn’t agree with us and they immediately cease being human, they are this ignorant ball of waste that needs to be kicked off the planet. Sure, in some cases that’s true (looking at you Q), but for the most part you’re ready to kill someone for reasons you really can’t explain. The talking box that you call a tv has told you certain groups are evil and need to be destroyed. If you don’t destroy them first, they will destroy the country, your kids, your family, and even your god if you believe in one. So now, your neighbor, instead of someone you BBQ with during the summer, is someone that you despise. You saw the political sign they put up in their yard last year and you know 100% that they are pure Satanic evil. And yet…if put on the spot, you can’t provide a rational answer to it. You throw out sound bites from the losers you kneel before on the alter of talk show television. Half the fucking shit these wombats throw at you, you don’t even understand. I’d venture to say that maybe 5% of the people that are against it actually understand what critical race theory is. I bet that maybe 10% of the people who are completely in love with the Federal Reserve have no idea why. They just are and that’s that.

If I tell you that society is hanging on by a thread right now, chances are you’ll look at me aghast that I’d ever suggest such a thing. Sorry to burst your bubble, but when we have politicians supporting neo Nazis and politicians supporting pedophiles…society is in trouble. I pay attention to people wherever I’m at. I listen to what they have to say, I look at the slogans on their clothes, I read the bumper stickers on their car. We live in an “Us vs Them” society, and no one really seems to know who is who. One day you can be on the “right” side of the field, then, you do or say something that that side doesn’t like. Now you’re on the other side facing off against people that you just counted as friends. The problem with that, is that when the shooting starts, no one is really going to know who the enemy is. Well, at least until it’s too late and you realize what you should have fucking seen from the beginning, the enemy is the one controlling you not the one in front of you.

Why So Serious?

If you ask anyone that has spent more than ten minutes of time with me about my level of seriousness, they will look you in the eyes and then laugh at you for ever thinking seriousness is a part of my DNA. I blame a lot of this on my military school English teacher John Abston. He once told me that commas were a rule of the universe and that if I broke that rule, I’d be mocking existence itself. I’d like to think that when I deliberately misuse or leave out commas, which is often, Mr Abston’s eyes will start twitching for reasons he can’t quite explain.

As a Norse pagan, I always wanted my chief god to be Odin, or Thor, maybe even Tyr, but if we’re being honest, it could never be anyone but Loki. Mischief, a healthy “fuck you” attitude, and the ability to snatch seriousness away from any event/setting. Why would anyone take pride in such qualities? The answer to that lies with one of my Aunts. When I graduated high school, she gifted me a rubber chicken with a note that said “Don’t ever take life too seriously.” So I don’t. In fact, there are things I don’t take seriously at all, like this country. I can’t take seriously a people who bicker over a song, a magic flag, the sexual identity of television (or comic book) characters, whether a business should be forced to bake a cake for people they don’t like, or whether a business has a right to turn anyone away for any reason. I can’t take seriously a country full of people who claim a set of morals until they are actually expected to stand by them. I can’t take seriously anyone who yells and screams about cancel culture yet supports book burning. I sure as hell can’t take anyone seriously that believes god has personally handpicked a politician just for them. I ask you, where is the seriousness in a people that expects their next Vice President to be a guy who died over 20 years ago? I take them about as seriously as I take the yahoos in 2012 that gave away all their possessions because some pastor said the end of the world was upon us. When it failed to materialize and all his supporters were without jobs, money, and cars, he claimed to have read the signs wrong. How on Earth do you expect me to take seriously some Orange nutball who tried to deadeye an eclipse??

You people are so busy taking seriously the things you shouldn’t, that you’re giving no thought to the things you ought to be taking seriously. Just because you wake up with a red, white, and blue erection every morning and mentally beat off every time you hear the magic song, doesn’t mean this country is so star spangled awesome. It’s not. Hasn’t been for some time to be honest with you. It’s funny that sentences like that always seem to offend people. “How dare you! America is the best country in the world!” No, it’s not. Far cry from it and I don’t give a fuck if that hurts your little feelings. Because while you shitbags are busy burning books while decrying cancel culture, turning dumb fucks into hero’s (looking at you Kyle), screaming about the evils of abortion while donning yellow stars because you believe a vaccine is akin to the holocaust, this country is edging closer and closer to Authoritarianism. If history has taught us anything, and if you’ve been smart enough to pay attention, it’s that every empire falls. The United States is falling. You don’t believe it because we haven’t hit the ground yet, but I assure you, it is definitely falling and when it smashes upon the ground, breaks open, and lays there bleeding like a stuck pig, it will be your fault. You can blame the politicians all you want, but who put them there? Who turned them into rock stars? Who made politics a national game of sports ball? You did. Every other year, you did. You didn’t care if your side put up someone who was morally bankrupt. As long as they beat the person on the other side and you could claim victory, that’s all that mattered. Well, I hope you’re proud of yourselves, because we are heading to sudden death overtime. While you stand there and wave your flags, hold your armadas, tailgate before every rally…your actions bring us closer to death. So when you ask why I’m not a serious person, it’s because I don’t live in a serious country.

What You Don’t Understand

I was riding out the last vestiges of my 8th grade year when Superman issue #75 was released to the public. After nearly a year of media blitzes, press releases, and shockwaves, the death of Superman was finally revealed. Every outlet from Newsweek to People to Time, CNN to Fox, had something to say about DC killing off the caped Icon. Regardless of what side of the aisle you hung out on back then, sadness was the first reaction thrown out. There was an overwhelming sense of familial loss. Everyone knew Superman. Even if you didn’t read a fucking comic book in your life, you knew “Truth, Justice, and the American Way.” The world was losing an animated beacon of hope. It was an event we could all get behind. Sadly, the reaction from 1993 is vastly different from the reaction we would get today. If that had happened in 2021, it would have been seen by at least 40% of the country as the symbolic killing of America by those “goddamn godless Liberals.” When the Reign of the Supermen followed, Hank Henshaw would be seen as the true face of the Republican Party. A half man half machine version of Dick Cheney. I know this because a month ago, DC announced it was changing Superman’s slogan from Truth, Justice, and The American Way, to Truth, Justice, and a Better Tomorrow. By the reaction from half this country, you would have thought Adolf Hitler had returned from the dead and announced he was running for President.

So why Superman? What does Superman have to do with goddamn anything I have to say? Because we can use Superman as a microcosm of what we are and where this country is at. See, when Joe Biden defeated Donald Trump (fuck your election bullshit, he lost) liberals everywhere thought that finally politicians were going to be held accountable. That their dream of watching Trump get strung up by his nutsack outside the Lincoln bedroom was finally going to take place. When Merrick Garland was named AG, it seemed like a sure bet. And then it wasn’t. Sure there were/are congressional committees, but no one was truly being held accountable. Morale sank, and criticisms were being lobbed at the administration like verbal grenades. Finally many on the left had to confront the truth that no country ever wants to confront: it’s over. You can tell me I’m being pessimistic or dickish, call me an asshole if it helps, but the sad truth is that we’re done. The great 240+ year experiment has finally concluded and it’s been found wanting. As I know how much you all love to not read evidentiary points, I have included a few. Don’t @ me.

1. Everything is Political: Recently, annoying Green Bay QB Aaron Rodgers was caught lying about his vaccination status and then resorting to throwing out a token Martin Luther King Jr quote to defend his actions. Before we go further, understand that I don’t give a fuck about whether Chief Cheesehead is vaccinated or not. What I care about is that a person in an influential position decided that it would be a good idea to lie rather than accept responsibility and either ride on your beliefs or die. Instead, there are people who are actually defending being a liar on one side and people who are hoping he gets kicked out of the county forever for not being vaccinated on the other. Instead of being a sports related issue between a star and the NFL, it became a rallying cry for various political gangs. The “Fuck Cancel Culture” gang was all over this. Doesn’t matter that he LIED to the people who sign his paycheck and the league that allows him to play, this was all about a vaccine and that’s it. To go hand in hand with the Superman shit from earlier, DC announced last month that Superman’s son would be Bisexual in his first solo comic book series. Personally, I don’t care. Good for the editors at DC for opening a new avenue of story telling and ideas, but this doesn’t affect me in the least. As it turns out though, it should terrify me as this is a sign the left is trying to force tolerance and communism on all of us. The Bastards. When Tim Allen introduced his new show Last Man Standing and it was revealed that his character would be a conservative suburbanite living in Colorado, the left lost its shit. Doesn’t matter that most characters coming out of Hollywood are mostly left leaning and thus a right leaning character gives you new story ideas, it was an abomination. Everything that happens today is looked at through political lenses, whether it has anything to do with politics or not. This is a bad thing.

2. Politics Has Turned Insane: If you’re under the age of 21, I can promise you that there was a time people could disagree politically, still be civil, and most importantly, not go batshit crazy. “It’s not that bad, CJ, come on.” Okay. A week ago, a bunch of people who believe in an internet poster named “Q” gathered in Dallas, because they were 100% convinced that John F. Kennedy Jr. was going to come out of hiding (he’s been dead for over 20 years) link up with Donald Trump as his Vice President, and take over the White House. The fact that I just wrote that sentence makes me want to claw my eyeballs out. We have candidates now who openly advocate the government led execution of their opponents. We have politicians posting videos of them “killing” members of the other political party. We have Joe Manchin, AOC, Mitch McConnell, Paul Gosar (ought to be Gozer), Jim Jordan, and frat boy douchebags like Matt Gaetz, and Madison Cawthorne. Politics is no longer about the people it’s a fucking sports ball rivalry game. It’s Michigan vs Ohio State, Alabama vs Auburn, it’s also Duke vs North Carolina. It’s no longer about what they’ll do in office, it’s solely about winning. Doesn’t matter what they do when they get in, doesn’t matter how or why they won, all that matters is that they win. It isn’t halftime, folks. We’re in overtime and they have the ball. Take Marjorie Taylor Greene for example. Absolutely batshit fucking nuts, yet half the country loves her. She reminds me of a stupid Nurse Ratched. A bozo who has routinely proven that not only does she not know the constitution, the odds that she’s even read it are slim and none. All she knows is how to create controversy because that’s the only thing her inbred base responds to. We do not have sensible people joining the ranks of congress on either side right now. It’s a fucking 535 person insane asylum.

3. The Democrats Are Fucking Losers: Look, I’m going to put this in terms that are impossible to misunderstand. Little Jimmy (Democrats) is walking down the street when Frankie (Republicans) bounces a rock off his head. While Frankie is busy celebrating by doing the bull dance, Jimmy stands up, holds his head high, and walks on. Until Frankie hits him with another rock, and another, and another, until Jimmy is laying on the ground bleeding and twitching. Meanwhile Frankie is running around challenging any witnesses “Fuck this kid, what are you assholes going to do about it?” Later on, when Jimmy is asked what he’s going to do to exact revenge, he responds with “My foe can do whatever he likes, I will always choose the high road.” The next day Jimmy gets a tooth knocked out after Frankie hits him with a brick. Get it? Do you understand now? Democrats refusal to admit there’s a fucking problem and just standing around like elitist dickbags chanting “High road. We take the high road” is part of the fucking problem. Whenever a democrat does something stupid, evil, or illegal the Republicans run around like cats on fire screaming about the injustice of it all until the democrats take action against one of their own. On the flip side, when a Republican does something stupid, evil, or illegal. The Democrats sit around saying “We condemn the actions of [insert name]” while the Republicans circle them and laugh at them endlessly. These whale dicked assholes think that they can take on a group of people who literally don’t give a fuck with strongly worded statements?? Fuck outta here. Until the Democrats stop being jackasses about all of this, they will find that 2022 is going to be an awful year.

4. Republicans Are Fucking Lunatics: Hey Righties, sit the fuck down and shut the fuck up. I know you’re still getting off to my blasting the Dems, but you’re no fucking better. What in God’s name happened to your party? Did y’all just decide to drop thirty sheets of acid one day consequences be damned? Owning the Libs has become a war cry that is to be taken seriously no matter what the cost. Unconstitutional? Fuck ‘em. Unethical? Not our problem. Illogical? No such thing. There was a time that Republicans at least pretended that the constitution was a serious document. Now you’re willing to shit on it if it helps you own the Dems. You don’t care about morality! When you have conservative evangelical preachers praising ISIS for killing those sinful gay kids in Orlando, and you say nothing against it, your patriot card gets shredded. You went from taking over an empty federal gift store to trying to kidnap and kill a governor, to dressing up like an Eagle on crack and smoking weed in the Capitol building illegally. You guys are fucking nuts. You don’t care how Unethical your actions are so long as they own the libs.

There’s four to sink your teeth into. Whether you want to believe it or not, you’re standing at the OK Corral and Doc Holiday is about to shoot your nuts off. The sad part of this? You brought it on yourselves.

Many thanks to Kelson for typing this as I dictated. Anyone that has to listen to me speak for this long deserves gratitude and sympathy.

The Christmas Truce and History: Does It Really Matter?

In honor of Swedish metal badasses Sabaton releasing a new single about (my favorite part of WW1) The Christmas Truce of 1914, I’m focusing on something different tonight. We know that due mainly in part to technology, the world has become much smaller. Warfare has changed from the long, straight, strict lines of the British Red Coats, to the horrors of trench warfare, to the drone warfare we know today. The civil yet divided politics of yesteryear has evolved into the hate filled sportsball politics of today. So the question for today is this: do historical acts of kindness still matter? Does a singular moment from 1864, 1914, or even 1996 mean anything today.

For those that don’t know, the Christmas Truce took place Christmas Week on the Western Front during World War 1 between British and German troops. Having tired of piss poor trench conditions, non stop fighting, and the senseless deaths of many, 100,000 troops decided to cross No Man’s Land and exchange gifts, cigarettes, stories, carols, while an impromptu soccer match broke out. The best part is that it went against strict orders from both high commands. It was one of humanity’s greatest acts of kindness during one of its worst. A cross now stands at Ypres with the inscription. “Lest We Forget”, a sobering monument to an amazing moment in humanity’s history.

Of course, that’s not the first time we’ve seen this kind of wartime kindness. You can travel back to the 1860’s during the American Civil War. Fraternization with the enemy was something that would have landed a soldier behind bars, but there exists many records of such fraternization between Johnny Reb and Billy Yank. These instances normally occurred during post battle searches or picket duty. In one case, during a rather cold night, a confederate soldier with barely any clothes to keep warm made mention to a Union picket guard that his side had no coats nor blankets. The following night the Union soldier returned with six blankets. In his memoir he notes: “I never heard anybody pray such a prayer as the Southern soldier prayed for me, kneeling there in the snow in his ragged old uniform. I took off my hat and stood still till he was through, and then he faded away in the darkness” (Rolph 2002, p. 49). In another instance, a Union soldier had been badly wounded at the second battle of Manassas. A confederate soldier who had been bayoneting the mortally wounded Union soldiers paused for a moment before slowly lifting up his enemy’s head, giving him water from his canteen, and making sure he was given medical attention.

I made mention of 1996, and while this might not be a wartime sort of kindness it still took an incredible amount of courage. In ‘96, the KKK held a rally here in Ann Arbor. They were met by a crowd of protestors who didn’t want the hooded bastards anywhere near their peacefully progressive town. Suddenly the crowd noticed among them, a man with a confederate flag shirt and a Nazi SS tattoo on his arm. Focusing their anger on this single individual, the crowd knocked down and started beating the man with the stick end of their signs, kicks, and punches. At this same moment, a young 18 year old black woman named Keshia Thomas threw herself down on the man protecting him from the blows that were raining down from the crowd. When asked why she saved a man who would rather see her dead before doing the same for her, she responded “I know what it’s like to be hurt. I wish the times I’d been attacked someone would have intervened”

At the start I asked whether history’s kindness still matters. The fact of the matter is that the human race is a violent, angry race capable of inflicting horrible cruelties upon itself. A race that will fight for beliefs as archaic as the ground they fight on. So the answer to that question, is yes. Yes those acts still matter, because they remind us of what we can be, of what we should be. It’s folly to think the world will ever become some utopia where everyone gets along and prejudices disappear. That being said, it also reminds that we have a choice. That when we see someone who is down and out, who luck has turned its back on, we can make a choice. We can let them suffer and move on, or like Keshia Thomas, we can bring a little light to the darkness.

Like the cross at Ypres, we can stand as monuments to the kindness that this race has shown itself capable of. I know that’s not the Vogue thing to do these days. I know that division and hatred is the name of the game, but if there’s one thing we can learn from these instances, even enemies get tired of fighting.

On a slightly unrelated note, I’d suggest checking out Sabaton’s new single The Christmas Truce. Anyone that claims music doesn’t have power hasn’t listened to this.

Thanks for Coming, Here’s Your Trophy

The common knock on Millenials these days by a certain toothless, cousin fucking, demographic, is that they are whiners because they were raised on participation trophies. Thats right, little Debbie is a whining whore because she got a soccer trophy for coming in second. Interesting. Look, I grew up in a generation that gave you a trophy if you earned it. If you were a runner up in a hockey tournament, you got a trophy but it was considerably smaller than those given to the first place champs, as it should be. I can understand the logic behind participation trophies and entitlement issues, Im not saying thats not impossible. What I am saying, is that its really fucking funny that this criticism is being leveled by people sporting confederate flags, waving Trump Won signs, and in some cases sporting Neo-Nazi tattoos. Come on Cletus, you’re going to sit there with a straight face and complain about participation trophies when you’re sporting symbols of every major runner up since 1865? Good fucking god the lack of self awareness that takes is almost beyond belief. And who the fuck are you to bitch about ANYONE when all you do is complain about how ”the dems screwed Trump.” ”The election was stolen” you yell from your balcony as your sister wife stands by your side. Interestingly enough, when a Republican stole an election you were just fine with it. Why? because lets be honest, you dont care about fairness. You just want to make sure the other side loses. Again, pretty remarkable from someone sporting a shirt bearing the flag of the biggest loser in United States history.

You’re the same block of toothless, rube losers that claim there’s a war on Christmas every single year despite the fact that one never exists. How is it possible to be on the wrong side of everything all the fucking time? Millenials don’t trust the government, just like you. Millenials don’t trust the financial system, just like you. Millenials have a lot more in common with you than you realize, but because your preachers are that dimwitted hillbilly Aaron Lewis, the man who hasnt had an original idea in his life Kid Rock, and a man who has not only lied about his finances but just about everything else in his life Donald Trump, you’re convinced Millenials are the enemy. This is why you’re stupid. This is why you will always be stupid, and why you will always be wearing the symbols of losers and runner ups. Please don’t change. Knowing that brainless hicks like you exist, makes my job so much easier than it has any right to be. Thank you for coming to my TED Talk, heres your participation trophy: 🖕

Truth, Justice, and the Dumb Fuck Way

In 2003, DC Comics release a three issue mini series called Superman: Red Son. It dared to ask the question: What if Superman’s rocket had crash landed in the Soviet Union instead of Kansas. Heres the brief synopsis as seen on Wikipedia: Instead of fighting for “truth, justice, and the American Way”, Superman is described in Soviet radio broadcasts “as the Champion of the common worker who fights a never-ending battle for Stalinsocialism, and the international expansion of the Warsaw Pact“. His civilian identity is a state secret.

In 2013, a video game was released titled Injustice: Gods Among Us. Again, here is the synopsis: In this reality, Supermanbecomes a tyrant and establishes a new world orderafter the Joker tricks him into killing Lois Lane and destroying Metropolis with a nuclear bomb.

Both were praised for their writing, their creativity, and the questions that each, while different forms of media, asked.

Fast forward to 2021 and it has been revealed that Superman has a new tagline: Truth, Justice, and a Better Tomorrow. Of course since this is the decade of rational reaction, intelligent thought, and common sense, a whole bunch of faux ass patriots are crying about it. Why? Simple, they dropped the “American way” from the tagline. The fucking audacity. You piss pots will complain about literally anything that you see as emasculating your precious American Exceptionalism. I cant believe I’m spending time dealing with the fact that you suck pots are losing your shit about a tagline that is actually more optimistic. After all, the American Way isnt exactly the kind of way a superhero with strong morals would go. I mean, if Superman were to do things the American way,he’d be stealing oil from the middle east, torching Mexicans with heat vision so they couldnt cross the border, bombing abortion clinics, and profiting off the advertising space he sells on his cape. I mean give Ted Cruise a cape and a personality, and you’d have American Superman.

Also, can we please remember that SUPERMAN IS A FUCKING ALIEN?!? You assholes wouldnt want him in the country even if he did exist. Lets talk about what this is really about: your fragility. You are so weak, so cravenly stupid, that anything that denegrates (in your mind) the identity youve thrust upon this country, spins you into a dimension of offended that most people couldnt reach if they tried. You are the bully that gets kicked in the dick and runs home crying to mommy. You are the one that dishes out insults to any and all yet reduced to a quivering ball of bitchness the second someone fires back. Youre the type that Superman would fight against not save. Hows that for American Way?