How much better off David Crisp would have been to have heeded my advice, bought the Padre Hotel and turned it into a world class “gentlemen’s club,” you know, a cathouse rivaling anything in Las Vegas or San Francisco. At the time I was writing about this I’m sure David was aware of this rare opportunity to put Bakersfield on the map. Alas, he was not farsighted enough to understand the merit of my suggestion, and just look at the trouble he is in now. As it turned out, David had enough brains to scam people out of relatively paltry sums of money working his small-minded version of a Ponzi scheme, but not enough brains to be a true visionary. And so, I’ve written Donald Trump to see if he might be interested.

There is one thing that may turn Trump off to my suggestion concerning the Padre Hotel; the mention of Bakersfield. I know he thinks location, location, location. And I have no illusions about what images are conjured up in people’s minds at the name Bakersfield. After all, despite my Ph. D. I’ve encountered a few problems with people associating my birthplace of Weedpatch with Al Capp’s Dogpatch; both euphonic, lyrical names that pleasingly roll off the tongue, but Bakersfield? The Bakersfield Californian did a really bang-up job exposing Crisp, but where is the paper touting my own vision for the Padre, my vision for what this could do for Bakersfield? Strangely silent. But what reasonable person could fail to see how such a thing would put real meaning in the motto “Life as it should be.”

However, when I wrote an article questioning whether marijuana is now Kern County’s real cash crop few dared respond to that. But as the noose tightens around the quasi-legal dispensaries statewide we have to wonder where the money trail leads for a failed and phony “war on drugs?” But you know, I have written about this for so many years now it just doesn’t seem to be worth the effort any longer. If I’m going to tilt at windmills, I would like to leave a Quixotic legacy of my vision for making my hometown of Bakersfield the envy of merely pretentious people that roll their eyes over any mention of Btown by my continuing to suggest to the city fathers that turning the Padre into a world class pleasure palace is the right thing to do.

I deign to say if a poll were taken most people would agree politicians are whores. But in my opinion this is demeaning and degrading to “working girls,” since there is really no honest comparison. Politicians treat elected office as a license to steal; they enjoy the drugs and prostitutes they treat as perks coming with election all the while denying such things to We the People. We even see celebrities facing charges that politicians routinely escape.

There is no denying the hypocrisy of the whole thing. Neither is there any motive but money in denying We the People the same perks like drugs and prostitutes politicians demand as though they were the only truly privileged class in America. But then, I remind myself that one of the benefits of old age and having no empire to protect is being able to speak my mind. No one has to listen. But now honestly; what real argument can be made against my suggestion for the Padre? At the very least, considering the recent firestorm over Councilman Couch, wouldn’t it be fun to bring the matter up before the city fathers?

For those at least mildly interested in my proposal for the Padre, here is a brief recap of a few things I wrote to justify my position:

January 21, 2007

A kindly word for the “working girl”

One of the things I would like to see here in the Kern River Valley and in downtown Bakersfield is a “gentleman’s club,” you know, a brothel. But not just a whorehouse, an upscale nicely appointed palace of vice right out of a Hollywood production. Ideally these places would also provide marijuana legally. Such establishments properly regulated and taxed would be a real boon to local economies.

For that very small minority that might object to such a thing, consider the fact Walt Kelly made so clear in Pogo when discussing the presidential elections a “Vice Party” was suggested and Churchy asks Owl, “Deep down, wouldn’t you be for vice too … given the chance?” My dear brothers and sisters, no matter how you slice it a Vice Party is exactly what both Republicans and Democrats represent. Were these honest vice parties I would find no fault in that. But one of the problems I have with this is politicians of every stripe allow of every kind of vice among themselves including prostitution and illegal drugs, often at taxpayer expense, but hypocritically deny these vices to We the People! And quite frankly this makes me mad as hell! Why should the very vices politicians treat as their personal domain coming with elected office be made illegal and denied ordinary American citizens?

While historians and behavioral scientists have not made it much of an issue, sexual frustration may account for many of the wars of men as well as many of the more noble achievements. After all, for many men and women a cold shower just does not suffice; and much of our history as a species may well be understood in the light of sexual frustration on the part of both men and women.

Now I am all for traditional marriage and families as the foundation of all civilized societies. I am a staunch supporter of the sanctity of marriage, the sacredness of the marriage bed. But I am at least equally opposed to the kind of hypocrisy that denies sex is a normal function of the human species and makes it a crime for relieving one’s sexual frustration by simple mechanism of economics. There is all this foofaraw over abortion, so many women claiming they have the right to determine what to do with their own bodies while at the same time denying the “working girl” the same right. And what of the men in Congress and elsewhere that legislate and pass laws self-righteously denying women this right to their own bodies? Hypocrites!

The right to life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness should have included prostitution. After all, this was thriving at the time of the Founding Fathers, it was quite acceptable in most of the civilized societies at the time and throughout history, and it is doubtful the early years of our government could have been successful without a plentiful supply of bordellos. If our early legislators did not see these establishments as threatening to home and hearth, what happened to change their minds? All the other biological functions of the body are carefully attended, enormous amounts being spent on bathrooms for example, why the normal function of sex is suppressed is the stuff of history and books by the thousands...

However, the historical male dominance that makes whores of women while men have escaped any such pejorative appellation, at the same time denying the same right to women hiring themselves a man to satisfy their normal sexual desire, does make for the steamy novels, plays and films that take full advantage of this dichotomy in most cultures. And the refusal of men to accept women on the same basis they excuse themselves makes for an industry where women pander to the lust of men, making fools of men in the process. But men seem to excuse their foolishness in this regard while penalizing women and holding them in contempt. Consider the man playing the fool exclaiming “I never had to pay for it!” as though that was a proclamation of his “manhood.”

January 22, 2007

Why not a “gentlemen’s club” in Bakersfield?

Since I am known as a writer of humor, it was gratifying to receive so many notes from people who got a laugh out of my suggesting I would like to see a “gentlemen’s club” in downtown Bakersfield. While many people commenting understood the significance of my support for legalizing prostitution and treated it with the seriousness such a thing deserves, it was the name “Bakersfield” being associated with a fancy, legal whorehouse that tickled not a few funny bones. And by golly, I’m tired of Bakersfield being the butt of derisive jokes having this image problem and propose doing something about it!

While I was born in Weedpatch, I have always considered Bakersfield my hometown. And I have fond memories of the Dust Bowl folks among whom I was raised, many fond memories of our little church and grocery store on the corner of Cottonwood and Padre, and I know first hand the kind of nobility associated with the best of those Okies and Arkies with their polite southern manners and speech so characteristic of long held traditions of such things.

But let’s face it folks, when anyone says “Hollywood, Beverly Hills, Malibu, San Francisco” these names conjure up a certain image. And, when anyone says “Bakersfield” this conjures up a certain image; and it certainly is quite distinct from that of the other cities mentioned. And people are not going to confuse CSUB with Stanford or Berkeley. However, perhaps because of my being born in Weedpatch I may be a tad more conscious of and sensitive to the name of one’s birthplace, and maybe that has something to do with my sticking up for Bakersfield. That said I do understand the importance of perception. And I want to do my bit in changing the perception of Bakersfield.

Many of us had imaginary friends when we were children, and many of us had a favorite doll or stuffed animal as in “Calvin and Hobbes,” some of us had several, with whom we would carry on conversations. Some of us would talk to a favorite pet, and many carry this into adulthood. The old maid talks to her pet cat, and so do the old fellows like me. In my case, I have found the resident cat to be without conversational skill; nevertheless I still speak to it, and when I look at her and ask “Feed the cat?” I do get a positive response, a soft “meow.” However, that’s as far as any dialogue with the cat goes.

Few of us have the good fortune of a “Harvey” as a companion, and most of us quite reasonably have our doubts about those adults claiming to have the benefits of an invisible companion. And while there are innumerable claims for “manifestations” of ghosts, I have yet to see one. I have a real ambivalence about this, not being quite certain I really want or do not want to be the beneficiary of such a manifestation. While I believe I live with ghosts, I haven’t any idea if this is true, or, for that matter, just what form my departed loved ones and friends have taken since their departure.

The realities of life are difficult to deal with, and at times some of us need our invisible friends. It is a reality that counterfeiting is such a problem many businesses will not accept one-hundred dollar bills in order to lessen the loss. Document fraud and identity theft are real and ugly, growing realities. I think I can be forgiven for times when I believe the cat understands these things better than those in our government.

So I consider the ghosts of my loved ones and friends to be understanding of me. It is my belief they know me thoroughly in a way not possible to our loved ones and friends still inhabiting mortal bodies. And oftentimes I have been prevented from doing something wrong not because I fear God may be there waiting to punish me either now or later at some assize, but because I have loved ones I do not want to hurt. In most ways, I suppose this a better rule for moral behavior than any system of religion.

Existentially Emerson might have been correct, but perhaps the world is only a stage and all of us only players upon that stage? Perhaps nothing is real except my own mind, this fire of life in a mortal body that transcribes everything and everyone I see from phantasmagoria to my perception of reality? This much I believe; for too many life is a living hell on earth, a seeming lunatic asylum with the chief lunatics running the asylum, an asylum where evil seems to predominate and there is room for believing the “Monsters of the Id” are more than the stuff of SciFi, and only occasionally do the better angels of humankind prevail.

I am not going to judge those who believe “The play’s the thing.” But I do wonder what is it that compels some to strive to play a role of fantasy? Do they live such fantasies in their own minds? Psychologists and psychiatrists, our contemporary witch doctors and shamans, expend enormous amounts of time “explaining” the attraction of stage and film to so many wishing to play a role. And it is not always out of the desire for fame and fortune, not even the desire for attention but sometimes the need is to simply escape from reality.

It is quite normal for children to engage in fantasies just as the children in “To Kill A Mockingbird” made up a game about Boo Radley, acting out parts of the story they had invented about this neighborhood boogeyman. But as the Apostle Paul pointed out, when he was a child he thought, acted and spoke as a child, but when he became a man he put away childish things. And I suppose most of understand the difference between childishness and being a child. Paul did not intend a discourse on the fantasies of children carried into the realm of adulthood and was fully knowledgeable of the Greek and Roman stage given to much more than fantasies, and none would disagree the world would be impoverished without Shakespeare; and few would want to give up the marvelous fantasies of Hollywood like the great musicals. But in looking at last year’s crop of Oscar nominees it seemed Hollywood has painted itself into a corner, and having been raised on the great films of time past I cannot but feel a certain sad melancholy about the low estate to which this great American institution has fallen.

Children like Scout, Jem, and Dill enjoy the “theater” they invent for themselves, they enjoy a lively imagination in which all things are possible, things of fairy tales and magic come to life. The world would be a dreary place without the laughter and imagination of children giving life to the fairy tales and magic properly the domain of childhood. Still, as Paul pointed out there is a difference between those things the proper domain of childhood and childishness. We want children to be children, we want adults to be adults. Where Hollywood has departed from being a great American institution is in becoming “childish.” In too many ways what Hollywood has engaged in is throwing childish tantrums, demanding attention be given the demands of the spoiled brat, the kind of child no one wants around them.

The result of this spoiled brat and its tantrums is people staying away from theaters in droves. There is no more “Here’s lookin’ at you kid,” no more “bright, golden haze on the meadow,” but a self-absorbed, spoiled brat demanding attention be given its childish version of “reality.” And it seems the MSM is fixated on a very shallow celebrity rather than hard news. It is almost as though the realities have become so monumentally bad the MSM simply cannot cope with them.

This reminds me of the book of Job in the Old Testament, which is thought by some to be the most ancient text in the OT, dealing with issues from the most distant past of human history. It is from this ancient story we have the thought Jesus emphasized that Satan holds dominion over the kingdoms of the world, but that his rule is doomed in the end to failure. This is cold comfort to those like abused, tortured and murdered children, to the innocent suffering from the wars of men. But there is little from Hollywood about this story of Job, except in passing. And I doubt there will be a musical version of the story.

What drew Americans to the Silver Screen in time past, what made Hollywood successful was largely the desire to escape the ugly realities of life. As an art form, Hollywood used to give us that kind of escape from ugly realties. We had the great books delving into the dark side of humankind, but it didn’t take Hollywood long to explore this as well. But the advantage of a book is being able to lay it aside and come back to it in our own time. And while Hollywood has produced acclaimed “masterpieces” delving into the dark side, it is those great films in which virtue prevails, in which there is great beauty and hope lifting people up from their often lives of quiet desperation, too often lives lived with ugly realities from which the Silver Screen granted some respite and surcease of sorrows that made Hollywood an American institution, and I miss that Hollywood.

Whatever the “reality,” I believe the ghosts of my loved ones and friends gone on before me understand. I believe their “angels” know my thoughts, I believe we have spiritual communion though I neither see nor hear them. I find comfort in believing this, and while far from original thinking, but quite the contrary, my most fervent hope is to rejoin these loved ones and friends when I pass away. I can only hope in the words of Scripture that if this happens “all tears will be wiped away.”

People have every right to envy those of us able to live here in the Kern River Valley. Clean air and water, no pollution or heavy traffic, all the amenities close at hand. Surrounded by beautiful mountains, the Kern River flowing from up north into Isabella Lake where the fishing is terrific, and beautiful, pristine trout streams like Bull Run Creek nearby. Adding to the attraction is the lack of graffiti and no gang warfare over drug turf.

But recalling the area before the lake went in when the Kern River flowed unrestricted through the valley, when Isabella had a population of about 35 and Kernville 115, when the whole of the Sequoia National Forest was my personal area to explore, hunt, and fish hardly ever seeing another person was living a life as a boy that now seems a fairy tale. At that, despite the small population at the time there were enough characters out of Peyton Place and those like the “mad scientist” of Isabella to make social life interesting, and the local gossip was more therapeutic than malicious, akin to the communal washdays and quilting parties I recall from my childhood in Little Oklahoma, southeast Bakersfield.

However, there is a looming disaster here in “Paradise.” In the beautiful Sequoia National Forest portion of Kern County the marijuana plantations are threatening the peace and quiet of this part of the world. Recently: “About 11 remote growing areas were found during an aerial search of public lands in the Sequoia National Forest; in fact the entire operation had to be by helicopter. In a 2 day mission The Major Violators Unit of the Kern County Sheriff’s Department hauled more than $100,000,000 worth and almost 45,000 pounds of marijuana out of the Kern County mountains. The operation was so large, the Sheriff was assisted by Bakersfield Police, Bureau of Land Management, US Forestry and a Department of Justice task force called CAMP, the Campaign Against Marijuana Planting. Neil Cuthbert is with the California Department of Justice and part of the CAMP task force, he says they make every effort to closely integrate the marijuana eradication with their investigations. He says the job can also be very dangerous, from 1994 he says there has been at least one shooting a year during a marijuana raid.”

While there can be no doubt the Mexican drug cartels are behind this foreign invasion and assault on our national forest, neither is there any doubt such a thing could not possibly be done without the cooperation of our own state and federal government, despite the claims of some in government agencies. For years I have advocated for the legalization of marijuana, and the continued opposition to this from state and federal government means there are too many politicians bought from the profits of keeping it illegal. It comes down to the comparison between organized crime and our government operating from the same motive of profits. Invariably you will find “cooperation” between the two when it suits their profit motive, as in the government giving amnesty to drug smugglers for their testimony against border patrol agents attempting to do their jobs. This is no different than the tyranny of Bush treating the Oval Office as his throne from which he issues edicts designed to protect the rich and powerful.

But political correctness denies We the People a voice. To even mention illegal aliens are a problem is to be denounced by a few with screaming voices attempting to drown out reason with shouts of “Racist!” This is nothing less than sinister. When you find the same people damning Bush while supporting illegal aliens you know there is something sinister at the basis of this.

The fact that a relatively minuscule number of illegal aliens finds so many of the rich and powerful supporting them has to have some sinister motive, much in the way of counterfeiting. Just the other day, a friend sent me an article he had written on economics in which he used a quote from me back in 1960: “If you planned to print up a batch of counterfeit money, you wouldn’t print triangular bills on orange paper with a picture of Bob Hope on the front.”

While I had said this in regard to the various sects and cults masquerading as being “Christian,” he went on at length using the quote to elaborate on his theme of economic philosophy. But I was surprised that I recalled what I had said in 1960 as though it were only a short time ago; a seeming characteristic of advanced years.

Those supporting this illegal invasion from Mexico are only counterfeits of real Americans. But the very same people so quick to denounce Bush and his administration while supporting illegal aliens seem not to notice their hypocrisy. Illegal aliens have never had more support from any president in our history. And for those damning Bush while at the same time supporting the illegal invasion of America by Mexico at taxpayer expense is to say the least extraordinary, if not hypocritical. But they remain counterfeit Americans, not the real thing. And as Jesus pointed out, Satan is not divided against himself else his house would fall. But not a few dupes seem complicit in Bush’s (the Devil’s?) tyrannical work, attempting to deny Americans have any rights as citizens of a sovereign nation to our heritage, culture, language, and secure borders. In the meantime, the phony “war on drugs” will continue while politicians and their corporate masters reap the profits, here in Kern County and elsewhere.

Now for those of you who continue to want to explore the glory and grandeur of our national forest here in Kern County, the pristine trout streams and other wonders our county has to offer be sure you go well-armed. It is no longer the bears and mountain lions you must be prepared for, but the marijuana “farmers.” And I will continue to enjoy the rare privilege of living where the water and air are clean, where there is no graffiti, drive-bys or gang warfare over drug turf. Don’t you folks in the “big city” wish you could have it so good? Don’t you wonder why you can’t?

When it comes to odd couples, the relationship between Benjamin Franklin and George Whitefield immediately comes to mind. In Franklin we find the preeminent pragmatist, and in Whitefield the preeminent religionist. Despite the seeming contradiction, Franklin did recognize the need for the social function of religion in society. But he would not be brought under the sway of any religious system of belief. However, Franklin and Whitefield were great friends and when the evangelist wrote Franklin of an impending visit, Franklin responded offering the hospitality of his own home to Whitefield. The evangelist in turn wrote Franklin a warm letter of thanks and acceptance “in the name of Jesus.” Franklin immediately replied that his offer of hospitality was not in the name of Jesus, but in the name of friendship.

During my years of theological studies and preaching, this story about Franklin and Whitefield would sometimes come to mind as I would reflect on Franklin’s refusal to accommodate his friend’s attempt to obligate Franklin in the name of Jesus. But to give due credit to Franklin for his wisdom one must also give him credit for making the distinction between what is done in the name of religion, and what is done simply out of a good heart. It is a distinction many of those holding firm religious beliefs are too often either unable or unwilling to make.

It isn’t a system whether religious or political that determines if a person is good or bad; it is as the ancient Egyptians and others concluded the “weighing of the heart” that determines this. Willy Wonka’s machine determined whether the egg was good or bad, and calling someone a good or bad egg though antiquated does express the truth of the matter. So no matter what the beliefs, is the person’s heart right or not, are they a good or bad egg is what really counts. Oh, well, we all know this don’t we. So what’s the point?

If a relationship is only a matter of shared beliefs rather than one of the heart it is doomed, and will undoubtedly be betrayed. While we think of Judas betraying Jesus for money, eventually it was his heart that condemned him so that he went out and hanged himself because he had betrayed the innocent. Some see this as an act of repentance, of contrition and expiation in which Judas found redemption, but only at the price of his own life; blood for blood.

But do even the good eggs, those with a good heart need reminding of what is right and what is wrong? I think so. I have a large sign in front of my place declaring in large capital letters: IT SHOULDN’T HURT TO BE A CHILD! Does any good person need reminding of such a thing? Yes. Several good people have taken the trouble to stop by and thank me for this reminder, sharing with me such a reminder has caused them to stop and think before lashing out in anger at one of their children. It was while discussing this with an elderly friend, an agnostic Jew who had lived through Hitler’s Germany I asked her whether it might have helped for the good people at the time to have signs in their windows “It shouldn’t hurt to be a Jew,” if this might have made a difference? She thought for a moment then answered, “By the time it might have helped it was too late. Besides, apart from the professions Jews stayed pretty much to themselves. We have often made ourselves targets of prejudice by refusing to assimilate, and this made its own contribution to the disaster of Hitler.”

It’s a story as old as human history, “When in Rome...,” but one that continues to be as true today as it ever was; and no amount of touted “cultural diversity” well lessen the truth of the matter. A pinch of this and a dash of that might lend flavor, but no one will eat a dish consisting only of mixed spices, each making its own demands for attention from the palate. The best chefs know what dishes require what spices, but will never allow the spices to overcome the meal. Like too much salt, when the spices become more than enhancing the dish is ruined notwithstanding the distinction Jesus made.

Where is the “meal” in “Press one for English,” ballots printed in foreign tongues, welfare for illegal aliens and their burden to schools, law enforcement, jails, prisons, unsecured borders inviting terrorism? We the People are being force-fed Spanish as though this were a spice, something the proponents of slave labor and open borders tout as a flavor enhancing ingredient rather than something that is ruining the whole dish. The English language has more than enough variety to enhance any “meal” without need of condiments, though the occasional foreign word or phrase may not be out of place. Don’t let the pretenders to knowledge in any way denigrate English unless they are equally willing and qualified to denounce Shakespeare as an unabashed “plagiarist.”

The lunacy of the situation is allowing the proponents of this illegal invasion from Mexico acting as though every illegal alien that makes it into America has the same rights and privileges as We the People! Let these lunatics go to Mexico and make the same demands there as illegal aliens before hypocritically pretending to be “preachers of righteousness.” This is not a question of whether the invaders, which by definition they are in fact, are good or bad people. It is a question of whether any nation can continue to follow the path our leaders are taking America and survive as a sovereign nation. Logic dictates these same people agitating for illegal aliens and Spanish would declare me a “bad egg” if I was a Mexican living in that nation and demanding foreigners wanting to live there learn Spanish.

It is wrong for our leaders to ignore the great majority of Americans for the sake of slave labor and profits. But unlike good people who only require a reminder once in a while, our leaders are determined to ignore all reminders of what is right and what is wrong. However, this is all a moot point since our leadership cannot even track legal visa holders, has no idea of where millions of foreigners are legal and illegal, and it would seem only that terrorist nuclear bomb going off at LAX or in DC will prompt the required action by our government. Even now as I write we are being told that was a steam pipe explosion in NYC. But was it? Well, whatever the truth, unlike the Warren and 9/11 Commissions there will be no hiding a terrorist nuclear explosion.

Should that bomb go off my continued fear is that like Hitler’s Germany the pendulum will swing far, far to the other extreme. And in that case, no amount of Constitutional “adjustments” will save the millions that overnight will become hunted and rounded up in America. And unlike religion which is a matter of beliefs, it will be America’s survival as a nation that will determine the action taken, there will be no questions about the rights of individuals, no habeas corpus, no asking for translators and interpreters, the only question will be one of survival. There is too much truth to Thoreau’s observation the civilized man is only a more knowledgeable savage.

In 1957 Walt Kelly gave his opinion of writing for TV. Albert reads something Bear has written and tells him “Stuff like that on the TEEVY will make you a million.” To which Bear replies, “NO! NO! I can always rob graves.”

Walt’s low opinion of writing for TV was shared by many of us who read books and were of the radio generation. In fact, many of the comic books and strips of the 30s and 40s evidenced a literacy and command of the English language long since forgotten. These days, it seems children are seldom told to “look it up” referring to a dictionary. In fact, where is the vocabulary being used now that challenges anyone to “look it up.”

Whether in literature or journalism classes, writing to a target audience of readers is a necessity. The concept is to communicate, not obfuscate. But over the past few decades the standards have been lowered so abysmally it would appear the “target audience” is considered very nearly illiterate whether in the print or electronic media, confirming the criticism and concerns of those like Walt Kelly, Ray Bradbury, and Harper Lee.

Those with a few decades of experience reading newspapers have noted the decline in writing ability and vocabulary. Even a friend of many years that used to write book reviews for the Wall Street Journal finally quit in disgust. It wasn’t that his own standards of literacy were so high; it was the standards for the WSJ were being increasingly lowered. Knowing this to be true, my question became where the bottom of such a thing was to be found? Of this we were both knowledgeable from the early 60s: Proper writing was no longer being taught in the universities and their product schools of America.

Adding to the woes of an increasingly illiterate America is the escalating poor quality of reporting the news in both print and electronic media. But at least the print media has this going for it; there is no mind-numbing noise accompanying too many news channels that seem to be vying with Hollywood productions in which it is assumed that without such noise rivaling rock stars that would sterilize frogs and salamanders at a far distance they can’t get the attention of viewers.

Then, there is the matter of America being held captive to political correctness resulting in a dumbing down of the truth in the print media as effectively as any amount of noxious, even injurious noise to be found on TV. And in some cases, Jack Nicholson’s “You can’t handle the truth” has its place. I used to have a friend at the L.A. Times that did not seem able to handle the truth concerning his church.

As the magnitude of perversion in the Roman Church in Los Angeles continues to unfold, I’m reminded of the friendly relationship and correspondence I used to enjoy with a prominent L.A. Times columnist until I brought up the subject of priests molesting children. At the time the problem was getting a lot of press due to exposing this back east, but I cautioned this man that in all probability it would be discovered his own Cardinal Mahony would also be exposed in due course. Having been so deeply involved with the research into cases of molested children for years, and knowing the Roman Church so well personally by experience I knew the L.A. Archdiocese had to be harboring a large number of molesting priests.

From the L.A. Times: Parishioners across the sprawling Los Angeles Archdiocese responded with relief, support and a measure of worry Sunday to news that the church will pay $660 million to victims of clergy sexual abuse, the largest payout to date in the nationwide Roman Catholic molestation crisis. But some also angrily blamed Cardinal Roger M. Mahony for failing to reach a settlement in the local cases years earlier... “I’m furious,” said Robert Sotelo, a retired West Covina electrician, after hearing Mahony celebrate Mass at the downtown Cathedral of Our Lady of the Angels. “Why did he take so long?” But Bigay also said he believed the church and its leadership had been at fault for years in attempting to hide the growing abuse problem by quietly moving troubled priests from one parish to another. “I hope they learned their lesson,” he said. “Now we know that it’s out in the open.”

I’m not naïve to the fact there is no way the L.A. Times will demand the ouster of the pervert-enabling and pervert-shielding Mahony. “Why did he take so long?” The problem of pervert priests in the Roman Church molesting children has a history of centuries, and it isn’t as though it were some recently discovered phenomenon. That the various popes of the church including the present one have not taken the needed action against this pernicious and most heinous of acts against children that has been a persistent and growing problem throughout the world speaks volumes about the attitude of the Roman Church concerning such a thing. I found myself asking time and again; where are the excommunications of such monsters preying on children? They were conspicuous by the absence of such action being taken. On the contrary, as is now being publicized such molesting monsters are “traditionally” sent off to other churches where they continue to prey on children.

Hospitals get rid of bad doctors by giving them glowing recommendations with the proviso they go elsewhere. Schools get rid of bad administrators, and in many cases bad teachers, by the same mechanism. And the Roman Church operates in such insular secrecy, much as that of hospitals and schools, that the magnitude of the crimes against children is never really known.

We the People are acutely aware our entire government from the top down including many federal and state agencies operates in the same manner of secrecy and “taking care of their own” as the Roman Church, hospitals, and schools. As to the universities of America, the various “secret societies” and intelligence agencies pale by comparison when it comes to operating in secret. And the utter lack of any accountability on the part of universities enables them to continue operating in secrecy, successfully stifling any voices within the ranks raised in opposition. And just as the Roman Church is infamous for harboring its perverted priests, in the same manner the universities harbor their own perverts and all those opposed to any standards of moral behavior and speech. It is no wonder the ACLU is the handmaiden to the universities, being itself a product of the universities.

Many will find it curious, at the least, why so many millions continue supporting the Roman Church when their offerings and donations by the hundreds of millions of dollars are not being used for the intended purpose, but going to the victims of perverted priests of the church. One reason is the utter naiveté of those like the parishioner quoted “I hope they learned their lesson... Now we know that it’s out in the open.”

The naiveté of such a statement is obvious. The Roman Church will continue to do “business as usual” as it has for centuries so long as it is supported by those who believe their church is the right church. Years ago as I was discussing the subject of evolution and creation with a colleague who was a biology professor he paused and said, “If I could only believe as I once did.” He went on to explain how he missed the mysteries, the candles and incense, the liturgies and prayers, the confessional, all of which comprised the comfort he used to find in such things.

While I did not mention it at the time, these were the things Sinclair Lewis had Frank Shallard asking for. But the priest denied these to Frank unless he would accept all the teachings of the church as well, something Frank found he was unable to do. And because he could not accept such teachings, he was denied the consolations religion would otherwise offer him. But does it have to amount to this, that Roman Catholics must accept perversion among the priests of the church in order to have their religion? But if our own government has so little concern for children it refuses to make children a national priority, providing children substantive protection by federal law with national application, the Roman Church certainly cannot be expected to change its ways. There is a certain kind of evil, a seeming inevitability of such evil perpetrated against children that finds a safe harbor in too many of the institutions of men, whether political or religious.

If you have lived long enough to make a qualitative analysis of the subject you realize what passes for commercial humor in America has changed considerably over the past decades, and now it is much safer to engage in the lowest form of what some consider “humor” than what is truly humorous about the human species; and for good reason. America and the rest of the world has become very dangerous, and even gallows humor were it acceptable would not be able to make us feel safer; much in the manner of Thoreau’s comment concerning economics, while it may lend itself to levity it cannot so easily be disposed.

A major factor in the loss of real humor in America has its basis in the words of the Psalmist, “I said in my haste all men are liars.” I recall a preacher years ago commenting on the words of the Psalmist concluding, “You know folks, I haven’t been in any hurry about it, I’ve taken a lot of time to think this over, and I still think all men are liars.”

There is no doubt in my mind Sam Clemens was the most gifted, natural born liar with which this poor, tired old earth has ever been blessed. Not a day goes by that I’m not reminded of the debt America owes this champion of the tall tale, the “stretchers” Sam would tell for the sake of laughter benefiting untold millions of people. Even today this master of the English language and humor continues to be paid homage by millions throughout the world. But the distinction is always there between a lie told to do harm or take advantage, and those told whether for the sake of a tall tale or when one has no choice but to lie.

Which shall it be; keep your friends, keep your job, or speak your mind and to thine own self be true? This much is certain, as little Scout pointed out one must lie under certain circumstances. But it is a personal responsibility to discriminate as to when one must lie and when one must not. And just to the degree we find ourselves making allowances for lying or telling the truth, to that degree we define our own character, all the while acknowledging the fact that one must lie under certain circumstances, just as good manners, proper speech and etiquette are the socially approved method by which civilized people are able to congregate without coming to blows. It was for this reason the champion of the tall tale cautioned one must present their personal opinions carefully perfumed and barbered for the public. And it remains there are three subjects you do not bring up in a bar: Politics, Religion, and the Civil War.

But while Sam was the consummate master of humor, there is no disputing his genius for such humor had its basis in the very darkest of human experiences and emotions, as with all great works of humor exemplified by the Greeks and later by Shakespeare, so much so that he considered death the only pure and unalloyed gift of God. Far from being merely the clown laughing outwardly while crying inwardly, Sam wrote from the depths of human despair; that he was able to turn the tables on such despair of humankind, believing like Franklin it was not worthy of surviving, and laugh at himself while poking fun at others and the human condition was, in my opinion, nothing short of miraculous, his own peculiar spark of divinity.

As Harper Lee so well pointed out, real writers are compelled to write. So long as they write, they live; and they live to write; they could as well stop breathing as to stop writing. It is therefore no wonder that such real writers are also compelled to tell the truth in so many instances when a well-crafted lie might serve them better. Where Sam had the advantage, a product of his singular and unique genius for humor, was being able to plumb the dark side for his well crafted lies that served truth in the end.

Walt Kelly was a gifted humorist, and as such pointed out we should not take life too seriously, since it’s in no wise permanent. Such a point of view one would think should result in honesty. But the real honesty to be found in the best of humor begins with being honest with yourself. To the extent one is dishonest with themselves, to that extent they will find themselves being dishonest with others.

Politicians and the MSM suffer mightily from a lack of both humor and honesty. Emerson had long ago noted no one would become a politician had they a choice of some noble occupation, and I have concluded the same thing holds true for most of those involved with the MSM. How many of these, do you suppose, are really honest with themselves? It’s as though the “professionals” in government and the media have concluded of We the People in the words of Jack Nicholson “You can’t handle the truth!” Perhaps if we were ever told the truth we could put the lie to such a conclusion. But given the track record of politicians and those in the media I hold no hope of this ever happening.

Granted in an America held in bondage to politically correct speech there is no room for any discussion of the truth that does not degenerate into labeling and name-calling it comes down to lying in order to protect one’s rice bowl. Which shall it be; keep your friends, keep your job, or speak your mind and to thine own self be true?

Americans haven’t lost their sense of humor, but the very best of humor has its basis in the truth. And it is this loss of truth I blame for the lack of genuine humor in America, humor that is not degraded by meanness, perversion, or a pernicious attempt to harm or take advantage.

Luther may have been enlightened by “The just shall live by his faith,” but he wasn’t ignorant of the responsibility of such a thing evidenced by the works of faith. And Christianity thereafter began the arduous process of becoming a civilized religion, one that eventually gave rise to the very best of the arts and sciences despite the many obstructions and abuses along the way, and in some cases still ongoing. A case in point being the abuse of the Christian religion by President Bush, a professing “believer.” However, Bush is far more representative of the tyranny of religion as opposed to the Scriptural “liberty in Christ.”

The sinister secrecy of the Bush administration has its roots, I believe, in the assassination of JFK. From the moment that Carcano Carbine was displayed for the world to view as the touted weapon of choice by a supposed “expert,” Oswald, as a weapons expert myself and even owning one of these guns at the time as a curiosity piece because it was known to be the worst of military issue firearms used during WWII, I knew we were being lied to by our government. But why? If you have studied all the available documents and theories surrounding the assassination one thing is clear: JFK and his brother RFK had made enough enemies throughout the whole spectrum of government, banking and corporate interests, organized crime and intelligence agencies to seal their doom.

Certainly I want to see Bush and Cheney impeached, I want them brought to trial and convicted for their crimes. But as I have already noted several times, the same witch’s brew of interests that wanted JFK and RFK dead continues to infest Congress. There is not likely to be any impeachment because there are too many in Congress that dare not expose themselves. It is all for the most part like the Warren and 9/11 Commissions nothing but a charade to protect the same interests that sealed the fate of John and Robert Kennedy. Bush, Cheney, and Rove know this; and because they know this they can afford to act with impunity making their contribution to what America is being forced to endure today, a virtual Federal Triune Dictatorship under the rule of which We the People have little recourse. Despite the Internet, the MSM continues in thrall to politicians and their corporate masters.

But whatever one’s thoughts on the subject, it cannot be legitimately denied that a government that refuses to secure our own borders for the sake of slave labor and corporate profits, that wages protracted wars for the benefit of a very few without any benefit to We the People, but on the contrary is making America a pariah among the nations of the world, can only be viewed in the most sinister way. Being the President of the United States, holding the most powerful office of the most powerful nation in the world, it is obvious someone like Bush could not possibly be the right person for this position. Nevertheless, there he is; and that alone is enough for me to believe there is more to this sinister dictatorship in America than politics alone can account for; which is why I consider elements of the occult at work in this.

Regardless the positions of wealth, power, and education we find people involved with the occult. And not surprising since even the most wealthy, powerful, and well educated know they will die. As a result some become concerned about finding meaning beyond that of their physical existence, and when traditional religious beliefs are not sufficient for them they resort to oftentimes bizarre beliefs and practices.

It is relatively easy to ignore the extravagant claims for religion, those of the pope, for example, that he alone speaks for God and it is either believe and follow the pope or go to hell. The pope is far from being alone in his delusion; but no matter what the religion or representative, when anyone tells me they speak for God I immediately consign them to that class of persons not worth my time. Over the decades of my life I have formed some beliefs that can easily be construed as “religious,” though I do not consider them as such, but it would not cross my mind to attempt forcing these beliefs on any others. However, this requires separating beliefs from facts, the spiritual from the physical; a difficult task for most of us who believe there is a very real spiritual dimension to our lives.

While I have known some good people that live their lives according to the precepts of the Gospel, that put the Golden Rule into practice by their lives, I have known too many others for whom their religion is a kind of rabbit’s foot, a totem rather than pure religion as defined by Scripture. There are some that believe preaching at others at every opportunity is pleasing Jesus, not knowing all they are doing apart from being obnoxious is trying to put Jesus in their debt by their “faithful witness.” And these have their counterparts in all religious systems.

However, to use the word “sinister” does have theological implications, some of which are relatively benign, but others like those of Bush of enormously malevolent, malignant magnitude affecting all of us. When any man whether the pope or Bush declares God speaks to them rational people have just cause for alarm. For example, if the pope were more concerned about ridding his church of pervert priests preying on children he might have more credibility ex cathedra. But to deny protecting children to the utmost of his ability, all the while nodding agreement to what many of us suppose must be the closest to the heart of God, children, puts the lie to all his good intentions. And when Bush orders the deaths of so many innocent civilians and American troops all the while refusing to secure our borders for the obvious purpose of advancing a personal agenda of power and wealth this puts the lie to any of his pronounced “concerns” about terrorism or for America and We the People.

The Scripture has it that “faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen.” So if the just, the children of God live by their faith according to Scripture irrespective of religion or no religion their lives will declare this “living faith.” But it is not enough for anyone to say they have such faith while denying their part in being accountable for allowing evil to have its way; it is not enough to preach you have hope while denying access for hope to others. While faith without works is dead, being alone, so with hope without justification by works, and simply telling me to smile and just keep hoping things will work out is at the most charitable naïve in the extreme, when not downright insulting to my intelligence. There are just too many “Be warmed and filled” people, preaching a gospel of “positivism” while ignoring their part in confronting evil for what it is.

However, the problem is historical; a history of humankind where it is abundantly evident good people do not want or seek power and authority over others. This leaves a vacuum for the very worst of humankind seizing power and authority. Franklin recognized the problem leading to his dismal assessment of providing a republic if it could be kept. Reputedly the wisest man of his time and knowing human nature so well, I very much doubt Franklin believed such a republic could be kept; and the present leadership of America certainly confirms the doubt.

Every day we are forced to confront the evil of some monster in human guise raping, torturing and murdering a child somewhere. Some get national attention, and some do not. Years ago I wrote of the need for children becoming a national priority, both in safety from monsters and in the education of children. Someone recently said in respect to the safety of children from monsters what is needed to get the ears of politicians is “national outrage!” But over the years I have come to realize this is not likely to happen. The very evil that refuses the ears and silences those in positions of power in our government is the same evil that suppresses the cries of the children being raped, tortured and murdered. And if the most innocent of victims in America have no voice that will be heard by our government, nothing but that word “sinister” suffices for me by way of explanation.

It really doesn’t matter to me whether a person has any beliefs of a religious or occult nature, what really matters is whether those in positions of power and authority have such beliefs and use these to justify their most heinous actions against others, whether the fanatics of Islam or any that profess to believe God warrants their actions to do harm to those that refuse to obey such “servants of God.” My part is to resist the Devil by whatever definition wherever he is to be found. And if the facts of JFK and 9/11 have been withheld from the light of day, if those like Bush and Muslim fanatics are holding millions in bondage to tyranny and fear one can only speculate what other forces of darkness are at work.

The real genius of Harper Lee was her being able to recapture so vividly the world she describes through the eyes of the children. She so very accurately recreates this world and makes it live in such a way as to nearly be a joke on adults that didn’t realize, as Capote later noted, they were reading a children’s book. But in fact, Harper Lee was so successful in recreating that world she knew as a child, so successful in reliving it as a child, I believe she said in effect “Goodbye cruel world,” and retreated back into that early childhood world as the one truly happy place she knew and understood so well.

But while Harper Lee so well understood girls, she could not be expected to understand boys nearly as well. There is a great gulf fixed between the two that in some respects cannot be crossed. It was enough that she understood girls well enough to be able to portray boys as realistically as she did. This came to me when I shared a particular chapter of my largely autobiographical novel about two children growing up in WWII Bakersfield with a young woman who told me, “I had forgotten what it was like to be a little girl.” It was a most humbling moment.

However, in addition to my two beautiful daughters Diana and Karen who taught me the best and truest things I would ever learn about girls and women, a few of you men may have had a Charlie Brown experience like his with the little red haired girl. Charles Schulz understood how a boy can be reduced to blathering idiocy by such a girl. Remember when Charlie Brown found the pencil the little girl had dropped on the playground and he discovered it had the marks from her teeth and he exclaimed rapturously “She’s human!” If you don’t understand Charlie Brown’s reaction, you have never met an angel. When I was a boy selling garden seed and Cloverine Salve door-to-door in order to earn my Daisy Red Ryder Carbine I met such an angel.

A girl answered the door.

She was beautiful! Astoundingly so! I had never seen a girl as beautiful!

“Yes?” she asked softly and pleasantly with a faint smile.

Her voice matched her beauty; it was musical, like that I imagined of an angel. She was wearing a white frock with small pink roses embroidered on it. The short sleeves were puffed and trimmed with lace. Long, fine, shining light auburn hair hung down nearly to her waist and curled slightly at the end.

But her eyes! They were the most striking thing about her. I had never seen eyes like hers before! They were a beautiful violet; shaded by the longest lashes I had ever seen on a girl. But those eyes; they seemed like they knew what you were thinking!

Not to worry, the sight of her and the music of her voice suddenly and inexplicably made me incapable of coherent thought. Having suddenly lost my mind and being reduced to idiocy I found myself blushing and stammering something to the effect, I hoped, that Doctor Mathison had sent me to see Pastor Samuels. To my dismay and immense relief I must have made myself miraculously intelligible because she asked, “Oh, and what is your name?”

I stammered out another message to the effect, I think, that my name was Donnie Bradden. But I couldn’t be sure. Somehow I was having trouble remembering my name. There was something definitely wrong with my brain. Maybe I was going to have another one of those episodes that caused me to put the snake down Ella May’s collar so long ago? I fervently hoped not, not in front of this indescribably beautiful girl!

But with that slight, faint smile and soft musical voice she asked me to wait a moment while she went to get her father, the pastor. I breathed a huge sigh of relief at this. I wasn’t sure what her father was going to be like but I was certain I would be able to at least talk right to him. At least I was reasonably sure he would be human. No mere girl as beautiful as the one who answered the door could be so; she had to be some kind of angel.

Only then was I suddenly and unaccountably self-conscious about the way I was dressed. Now I had on clean, belted Levi’s instead of my usual bib overalls. I was wearing a clean shirt, my hands and fingernails were clean, my hair was combed and I had on my good tennis shoes. Grandma had tutored me well in being presentable as a salesman. Yet I was suddenly very uncomfortably aware of the way I was dressed...

As I left, I tried to think of something else in order to get my mind off her. Thinking of her was both uncomfortable and pleasing at the same time. And I didn’t like things like this that I didn’t understand. But I didn’t want to stop thinking about her. And that was uncomfortable because I didn’t understand it. It suddenly occurred to me that no girl had ever caused me to be so mixed up in my mind. I didn’t understand how I felt about this either. Good? Bad? No use… I simply didn’t understand.

One thing was certain; I was going to be better dressed the next time I called even though the thought of going back strangely frightened me. Still, the mystery of the angel was one of such fascination I knew I had to go back. I needed to understand and make sense of my confusion. There was always an explanation for mysteries, I believed.

Shaking my head and trying to get my mind back on track, I considered the added mystery of my clothes. And it was a kind of mystery. But one that surely had an easier explanation than that of the mystery of the little angel. But somehow the clothes had a bearing on the mystery of her as well. Now, that was an interesting thought … maybe even a clue?...

While the novel required I go back in time like Harper Lee, one of the lessons taught by Jean to Donnie was the truth of what I had been told by my great-grandmother and grandmother: “Girls were meant by God to be a civilizing influence on boys.” I recall my kind of resenting this because I didn’t think I was uncivilized; I had been taught good manners and knew to be respectful to my elders and so on, just what about me as a boy was in need of any civilizing influence from a mere girl?

But Jean did civilize Donnie in ways no grownup could possibly do or explain. In time he would learn how to dress for a girl, how to speak correctly and pay attention to the many things boys are inclined to think unimportant until they meet an angel. And as Donnie later considered the mystery of the little angel, he thought perhaps there would be more civilized boys if there were more angels like Jean, and as they grew to be women those like Jean would result in more civilized men. And just maybe, the problem with things like wars and so many other things wrong was there were not enough angels in the world.

How quickly adults seem to forget the depth of thought of which children are capable. Harper Lee had not forgotten, and neither had I. Donnie and Jean were only twelve years old, but already their thoughts were deeply profound as they struggle for answers to very complex questions of life and about each other. And over these many decades of life, I still believe as Donnie the world needs more angels like Jean with their civilizing influence on boys and men.

Emerson had pointed to the danger of sharing your most intimate thoughts in what you believed to be the most beautiful of words with anyone else, seeking their approval, only to have this “treasure” treated as of no consequence. And true enough, in my own experience as a writer and author this is a quick way to lose a friend by telling them honestly what you think of their writing. What people are usually seeking is approval, not honest criticism. Many times I have refused to read something from friends asking “What do you think of this?” I refer them to the many services provided writers where an objective evaluation of their writing can be had for a fee. I may still lose a friend, but this remains sound counsel for those that want an honest and objective opinion of their work.

But writing in America throughout has fallen on hard times, as anyone truly literate in the great works of literature knows. It is with justification I have said mine is the last generation of the great writers of America.

My having been raised with the great literature of Western Civilization and like Harper Lee among natural story tellers of a past generation, primarily southerners of the Dust Bowl migration, it seems natural I would become a writer and author. But as a teacher I found my background in story telling played an important role; there was hardly a situation I had to deal with concerning my classes some story would come to mind to make and emphasize a point. Perhaps some of this skill in story telling is in my genes from my Cherokee ancestors as well. Much as the most ancient of poets, my Indian ancestors cultivated their story tellers, their poets, and honored them because this was how those things of greatest importance were passed on from generation to generation.

By the time I began attending college, I came face to face with the facts of Harper Lee’s criticism of the universities no longer teaching writing. I became intimately acquainted with the truth of her criticism, and have written much about this, including my critique of Ms. Lee’s literary masterpiece considered by some including me “the novel of the century” in which I elaborate somewhat on her reasons for never writing again. But in sum, “To Kill A Mockingbird” might well be considered the epitaph for writing in America. One commentator reflecting my own thought believed Ms. Lee considered trying any further to advance writing in America would only be “spitting into the wind.”

In the only interview Harper Lee gave in 1964 she stated in respect to writing: “There’s no substitute for the love of language, for the beauty of an English sentence. There’s no substitute for struggling, if a struggle is needed, to make an English sentence as beautiful as it should be... We really have no tradition of criticism. (Here we go, back to tradition.) The thing that has made it worse is the mass media—television, radio—that dominate time with less than a full creative effort. Reading gets confined to a quick grab for the latest best seller as the commuter dashes for the train. I think the American public is the worst-informed public in the world about its own literature. We have few journals that begin to compare with English periodicals like The Spectator and The Economist. But then, books are published in England in a more leisurely fashion, and the judgments on them are better simply for that. In general, American criticism is in a very poor state, and I think it always will be...

Ray Bradbury recently emphasizing his novel “Fahrenheit 451” was not about censorship, but expressed his concern about TV supplanting reading and writing, the danger TV posed to a literary class in America anticipated Harper Lee’s own concerns. The further death knell emphasizing my comment about Harper Lee’s epitaph “There’s no substitute for the love of language, for the beauty of an English sentence” has been the rampant political correctness that has betrayed the beauty of the English language to Bush and other lovers of slave labor in America touting Spanish, as though this were equal in any way to the language of Shakespeare and the great works of literature in English. Merely quoting Ms. Lee’s comment now is to open yourself to the howls of “racism!” by those with an agenda of denigrating the language of Shakespeare and all great writers of the English language and opposing making English our national language by law.

The utterly inane shallowness of the media including that of the news in both print and TV with a fixation on celebrity, the sheer lack of writing skills evidencing a lack of love for language on the part of newspaper columnists throughout is a reflection of Ray Bradbury and Harper Lee’s concern and criticism. That there has not been a novel the equal of TKM since is commentary enough to prove the point.

Affectation, pretentiousness, these will never take the place of having mastered the discipline of writing, the ability to convey complex thoughts in written expression with the intention of communicating rather than seeking approval of your prose. The cautionary words of Sam Clemens, Faulkner, Lewis, and Harper Lee continue to hold true in respect to writing. Refusing these eventually the greatness that was once the English language became merely tawdry, in too many cases trash reflecting Thoreau’s criticism “... a cloth-o’-silver sl-t, To have her train borne up, and her soul trail in the dirt.” Only now it is the English language itself that has been made to serve the cause of slavery, no longer the language of freedom and the most noble thoughts of men and women finding expression, but fallen to “a cloth-o’-silver sl-t” pretending to be other than what it is in fact, too often pretense and affectation in lieu of the real love and mastery of the English language.

Much in the manner of Nathaniel asking Philip “Can there any good thing come out of Nazareth?” poking fun at various places like Bakersfield is a time-honored function of the “literary set,” and writers like Sinclair Lewis did this with real artistry. Just the mention of my hometown is enough to cause titters among those in places like San Francisco, and while living there it seemed a sacred obligation on my part to punctuate the conversations at various cocktail parties with mentioning my birthplace of Weedpatch, which the doctor noted on my birth certificate was “near Bakersfield.” And while my mention of Weedpatch would elicit real interest among the literary set, no doubt because of the similarity to Al Capp’s “Dogpatch” that even the literati had to acknowledge, it was the mention of Bakersfield that caused the rolling of eyes and tittering remarks.

But beyond pricking the balloons of pompous asses by mentioning my “humble origin” to those that considered anyone with a Ph. D. being born in Weedpatch (near Bakersfield) as an insulting effrontery to the educated classes, to those that feel themselves superior by accident of birth or later choices of geography like San Francisco, there is a need to accept the fact that throughout the San Joaquin Valley there are the substantial drawbacks like world class air pollution and a preponderance of non-English speaking people that cannot make any contribution to raising the standards of culture in places like Bakersfield and Fresno. Nor can Bakersfield easily escape either its past or being more readily associated with Buck Owens and the Crystal Palace rather than our museums, book stores and art galleries.

So it was that in all seriousness I suggested the Padre Hotel be made into a world-class “gentleman’s club,” something to outshine any pleasure palace to be found in places like Las Vegas. I gave my reasons for believing this should be done, and it would certainly give Bakersfield real stature and shut the mouths of detractors in places like San Francisco. But alas, my sound judgment and reasoning has thus far fallen on deaf ears. What politicians continue to believe to be their private domain concerning prostitution and drugs coming with elected office continues to be denied ordinary citizens.

While Kern County has come far since the impact of the Dust Bowl days, none of us a product of those sincere and honest people that settled here would want to deny our heritage of the best of civilized manners and speech representative of the southerners like my maternal grandfather John B. Caldwell that came here back then. However, the music that became known as the “Bakersfield Sound” in those early days would be foresworn by those whose pretentiousness would deny such a thing.

As radios played throughout Bakersfield we children would often pick up some of the lyrics that went with the catchy tunes being played. And because the producers were not always circumspect in the choice of programming, some of these songs had lyrics that did not fit the moral code of our elders. But then, the catchy jingles on radio advertising things like Dr. Pepper, Pepsi Cola, and Shredded Ralston were often intermixed with the music programming and some of this apparently went unnoticed by many of the adults.

While I was attending Mt. Vernon Elementary during the early 40s the school was having a talent show. As one of the better singers at school I was volunteered by my teacher to sing in front of the whole school. She had a few selections for me to choose from like “Red River Valley” but none of them seemed to hit me quite right. They just didn’t fit my mood. Bakersfield radio stations carried many good musical programs and I was always listening to music from the radio, the church, and mom’s records, and I had memorized many of these songs. As a result I had an extensive repertoire of widely diverse songs and decided to do one of my own favorites. But I failed to share this decision with the teacher. And so it was that the principal, teachers, pupils, members of the PTA and others were treated to my rendition of that great and famous ballad popular in Bakersfield at the time: “Cold Icy Fingers.”

Bill Jackson was a fellow that believed in hainted sights
He used to dream about them when he went to bed at night
And when he dreamed about them you could nearly always tell
He’d just pull back his covers and jump right up and yell
Keep them cold icy fingers off ‘a me
Keep them cold icy fingers off ‘a me
I don’t mind your naked bones
Don’t mind your hollers and your groans
But keep them cold icy fingers off ‘a me

One night as Bill was passin’ a graveyard on a hill
Somethin’ dressed in white jumped out and made a grab at Bill
Bill said you may not catch me but I’ll make y’ do your best
But 'fore we start t’ travel, I’ll make one last request
Keep them cold icy fingers off ‘a me
Keep them cold icy fingers off ‘a me
You can chase me out of breath
You can scare me half to death
But keep them cold icy fingers off ‘a me

Bill went to see a doctor with a misery in his chest
The doctor looked at Bill and said take off your coat and vest
He started tappin’ on Bill’s wrist and gave Bill such a shock
That Bill just jumped right back and said now wait a minute Doc
Keep them cold icy fingers off ‘a me
Keep them cold icy fingers off ‘a me
You can cure my aches and ills
With your powders and your pills
But keep them cold icy fingers off ‘a me

The teacher was most unforgiving. Little did she realize how lucky she was that I didn’t treat everyone to “Cocaine Blues” (circa 1942), my alternate choice. Looking back, I think it was the reference to naked bones that got to her. She was quite the old maid. However, if any of you are wondering about the lyrics to that other old favorite, one line went “Took ‘a shot ‘a cocaine ‘n’ I shot m’ woman dead.” It’s quite a rouser and you may imagine how the rest of lyrics went from that sample. Parents take note: Simply marvelous the things that attract the minds of children, things to be memorized for a lifetime. I’ve now shared with you an example of my own cultured tastes and refinement that knows no bounds, and I am always anxious to share the bounty of my childhood with others who have similar, discriminating tastes. So much for any pretentiousness on my part; it is far better to be honest; after all, why live like a politician in constant fear of being exposed?

Being without power all day yesterday while Edison worked on lines the temp here inside my cottage in Bodfish reached 100 degrees and the outside temp was 115. I’ve lived without either A/C or swamp cooler in this place for fifteen years now, but to be without even a fan really made it miserable at my advanced age. The paramedics were kept busy with people that couldn’t handle the situation, and I was reminded once more of living on the mining claim those decades ago without any utilities, of how my great-grandmother and grandmother especially endured the harsh temperatures both summer and winter without complaint. But having become accustomed to the many conveniences provided by electricity, I know how the sudden loss of this can impact us, sometimes catastrophically. We are no longer a nation prepared to live as so many of us did back in the 30s and 40s. Ice boxes, wind-up phonographs and wood cook stoves for example are now “collectibles.”

The oppressive heat wave we are presently suffering here in Kern County makes it difficult to think, and sometimes even difficult to see. But even without the heat as a factor, sometimes we look but we don’t see. You can take a small child to the corner of a street to teach them about the hazards of cars, warning them how important it is for them to always look both directions before crossing the street. The child will dutifully do as directed; but if they are too young to understand the hazards, if left alone they will look both directions as warned to do and then step right in front of an oncoming vehicle. The lesson to be learned from this has many applications to adults. And though having failed in my own attempts at a Darwin Award, some that have attained this distinction were the victims of failing to learn the lesson.

Having had a lifelong love affair with airplanes from building models as a boy and eventually becoming a pilot, and owning two planes when it was not quite the hobby for the wealthy it has become, I was distressed when I read of this incident last year: AP August 3: “An experimental plane crashed, killing two people, because the ailerons were incorrectly connected to the control stick, federal safety officials said… The flight was the first since the plane’s aileron linkage had been disconnected and reassembled during a maintenance check, the NTSB said.”

First, I will repeat something I wrote at the time following this incident: Every month I would devour the AOPA publication, especially the section of the magazine having to do with accidents due to pilot error. In many such cases the accidents were the result of a lapse in performing essential preflight duties. But in the case of the cited crash it was caused by the failure of the pilot to do one of the most fundamental tasks of all. Once you have taxied to your takeoff position you do a run-up for an instrument check, then you do a visual of your control surfaces to make certain they are responding correctly. Had the pilot done this latter he would have noticed immediately the incorrect action of the ailerons. The omission of performing this essential and most fundamental of tasks cost the life of him and his passenger. When a pilot becomes apathetic to the point of failing to perform the most fundamental of tasks before taking off the result is too often catastrophic. But it is human nature to become apathetic about such things. After you have had a thousand successful takeoffs without accident, a false sense of security can lead to becoming merely perfunctory in your preflight duties...

It occurred to me some time later that an experienced pilot, especially one with high time, might look out of the cockpit while moving the controls and see the ailerons responding, but fail to notice they were not moving as they should. How is such a thing possible? Because if you have done something a thousand times and there has been no other result you may only see what you expect to see. And a high time pilot especially would not expect to see his ailerons moving incorrectly; all he would see is they were moving in response to the yoke or stick, and though rigged incorrectly there may well be no difference felt by the pilot to the control actions. As inexcusable as it is, the pilot of a DC-3 failed to remove the elevator chocks before taking off, this despite a “walk-around.”

A momentary lack of focus on things of importance is all that is necessary to cause disaster. The use of cell phones or other distractions have accounted for many accidents, even deaths because of their being distractions from being focused on the most important thing, driving the car. There may even be a failure to exercise caution or respond correctly when faced with imminent danger because of a momentary befuddling of the brain for any number of reasons.

One of my closest friends, a pilot who had flown fighters in WWII and Korea told me of the time when he was coming in for a landing and saw the red light flashing from the tower while his radio was blasting a warning and the horn was sounding in the cockpit, all of this because he had not lowered his landing gear. But none of this registered in his mind. Fortunately at the very last minute his brain kicked in and he narrowly avoided a disaster.

Once he landed an explanation was demanded of him, but the only explanation he had to offer was there was so much commotion and noise going on all at the same time none of it penetrated his consciousness. The constant drill of repetition over and over of performing some tasks can lead to apathy, even stupefaction in an emergency. And while this does not always result in disaster, airplanes are most unforgiving of any delinquency in performing dull but essential tasks. In the case of politicians and others giving lip-service to “concern” for children, most of it amounts to little more than noise and commotion in the face of impending disaster. And though the noise and commotion, “sound and fury signifying nothing” may be well-intended, these alone do not get the needed attention to the reality of an impending disaster, but may even become a kind of “overload” obscuring, even defeating their purpose.

The blasting noise from TV accompanying so many programs and commercials are the result of those that believe this is the only way they can get the attention of viewers. What they do not seem to comprehend is such noise drives away sensible people who want to maintain their sensibility.

There is an imminent danger America is facing because of terrorism, but when politicians are clearly motivated only by their own selfish self interest how are We the People to know what dangers are really threatening us? Scare tactics in the face of such selfishness and refusal to do even the most rudimentary thing like securing our borders only amounts to noise from DC, but it is the kind of noise that can confound and confuse, that prevents focus and critical thinking.

I’m gratified to read my friend Kathleen Parker finally coming out in favor of legalizing marijuana; but as she points out the issue needs legitimate debate removed from the politicians that profit from drugs, both legal and illegal. There is a host of issues We the People had better begin raising our voices about and those with a bully pulpit like Kathleen Parker, Lou Dobbs and others can certainly help. But it is still going to be We the People alone that can make the real difference. Small wonder some politicians are afraid of talk radio. In the words of Scripture, “None dare come into the light lest their evil deeds be exposed.”

Even as we suffer from the heat wave here in Kern County I realize we Americans have far less to fear from climate change for whatever reason than we have from those in DC deciding what is “best” for We the People. The Bush/Libby affair as with Clinton’s wholesale pardons for the crooks that supported that infamous couple is a cancer that has spread throughout our government, one that thrives and threatens because of the hypocrisy of politicians that are so corrupt none dare hold any of the others accountable for fear of exposing themselves.

Despite some historical inaccuracies, a very sore point is made in Jeff Daniels’ superb Peabody Award “The Crossing” when Washington at first refuses to meet with the dying German Colonel because he would not dignify anyone killing for profit and is told: “In the end we all kill for profit, do we not?” While it wasn’t a point emphasized by Tom Paine and those freezing at Valley Forge because that “we” referred to is typically those that profit and mean to go on profiting from killing, it is a point of history made often enough that it would be inexcusable ignorance to be unaware of how it predominates in the continuing wars of men.

It was only to be expected the biggest liar would accommodate a companion in his lies. So Bush steps up to bat for Libby. My own thought is Nixon did not resign to avoid being impeached, but as in “The Godfather” was made “an offer he couldn’t refuse.” The result was his living for years when one would have thought someone would have killed him, since there was no lack of haters of Nixon. Over the decades I have learned to have a very dark view of our government, the Warren and 9/11 Commissions alone being justification enough for such a dark view, and when the government sends thousands of Americans to die in foreign lands like Korea, Vietnam, and now in the Middle East to protect the profit margin what would the murder of a few individuals mean to such a government. It all leaves me with the very disquieting question of who is really minding the store?

One of the major problems with such thoroughgoing corruption clearly evidenced in our government is eventually no one can be held accountable for their crimes, whether a Berger or Libby, a Clinton or Bush, there are darker issues of greater import than a few malefactors. None dare hold any of the others to account lest their own dark deeds be exposed. In my opinion all attempts to hold Bush and his administration accountable for their crimes is nothing more than posturing for the sake of the next election and position. Even the Godfather had to make allowances for this in order to minimize conflict for the sake of “business.”

I’ve said many times I believe the Bush administration will leave a record as the dirtiest, most inept and corrupt in the history of our nation. Despite this, it continues to operate on the basis of Bush going on the record as having no need of advisors since he has resort to God. But as with Hitler who needed no advisors plots against him did not succeed, and he lived long enough to bring ruin to Germany. There is no lack of those that hate Bush enough they would gladly kill him, whether out of religious or patriotic fanaticism. Yet, there he is, no less a dictator than any other operating in such tight secrecy that one can be excused for thinking he and his companions are in fact resorting to the occult in order to maintain such tight secrecy. I have to suppose one would have a better chance of getting into the secret chambers of Scientology than this White House.

No one of any sensibility doubts America offers many easy and enticing targets for Muslim fanatics that want to kill Americans for “the glory of Allah.” But given the intense hatred of Bush, who doubts killing him would be the supreme thought of such fanatics? But Hitler lived long enough to destroy Germany, Stalin lived to become the most infamous mass murderer in history, and I wonder how long Americans will allow Bush to reign with impunity?

Each time I hear of some celebrity seeking and finding God, of getting wrapped up in Scientology or some other similar organization promising the answers to life it reminds me that each of us is responsible for ourselves. Since I believe most to be good people only wanting to live in peace without causing harm to others, it is a question how so many people are led into the schemes of evil tyrants. Is it really as simple as Eli Wallach telling Yul Brynner in the classic Western “If God did not want them to be sheared he wouldn’t have made them sheep.” It is certainly not an original thought by any means, but one that seems to describe the plight of good people throughout human history. And you know, this is what I understand to be the thinking of tyrants and politicians throughout the world. Whether in the name of some god or political system it seems there is a bottom line in which the sheep continue to be sheared and the prey of wolves.

But even a sheep might gain some insight to the wolves threatening. There was a time when Bush was governor of Texas and knowing he would run for the presidency before he announced I mentioned Elizabeth Dole might be a suitable running mate. Little did I know he already had Cheney picked out. So I look at the very cordial letter of reply I received from Bush at the time with the very flattering remarks about Elizabeth Dole, and I wonder how I managed to maintain hope for so long that we would eventually have a President that would really mean he meant to restore honesty and integrity to the White House. But I did learn and did not vote for Bush in either election; one sheep’s personal resistance to the shearers. However, the lesser of evils remains evil and I wonder if there is time for anyone to save America from the threatening wolves that will not settle for merely shearing the sheep.

Islam teaches women are inferior to men, in fact, are to be subservient to men and are often treated as chattel rather than human beings. The best women can expect in Islam’s “Paradise” is to continue serving men.

A proper perspective of women is the gift of Christian Western Civilization that has eventually given women status not to be found among Muslims where girls are emasculated by circumcision and “honor killings” still continue. And while the more enlightened Muslims attempt to discourage such things, the status of women in Muslim nations continues to be at best according them dismal second class creatures never to be the equal of men. As to the question of equal value, women are still far removed from men as reflected by their lack of representation in the UN where women in leadership are a rarity.

Well, maybe women should be more like men? Why can’t a woman be more like a man? Men are so reasonable, so fair; all in all we men are a marvelous sex. So Professor Higgins sings the praises of men in My Fair Lady, and most of us men find ourselves applauding this most astute summation by the Professor of the admirable qualities of men, qualities quite beyond dispute, leaving not a few of us wondering, as he, why can’t a woman be more like a man?

Alas, in the end poor Higgins realizes he has become accustomed to Eliza’s face, accustomed to her ups, her downs, her smiles, her frowns, and with a heavy sigh opens his door, walking into what has become an empty and cheerless house, a drear, empty and cheerless life; Eliza having become dear to him without his seeming to be aware.

Even Higgins’ mother has applauded Eliza having given her son his comeuppance, “Bravo, Eliza!” For too long her son had thought too highly of himself, had smugly thought women to be inferior and given to inanities, paying too much attention to their hair, their appearance and tea parties, of not having a mind capable of weighing the subtleties of the higher thought processes of men, of not having minds capable of coming at the really important ruling issues of life.

At the end, Higgins having admitted to his need of Eliza in his life, of her having conquered his prejudices against women she brings him his slippers and he settles back into his chair, both Eliza and he seemingly content an arrangement has been accomplished, one in which both a man and a woman are content in the scheme of things and a well ordered life will go on.

Well, these past decades since My Fair Lady have wrought some changes, and in my opinion not for the better when it comes to relationships between men and women. There are few women today who would bring Higgins his slippers; more likely they would shy them at him as Eliza had done previously. But if that is all they see in that final scene they miss the point.

We would do well to ask ourselves as a society why life should be a competition between men and women, and just when did it become such a competition rather than, as Henry and Eliza finally realized and accepted, the compatibility and honoring of differences?

As science increasingly provides some of the answers concerning the differences in brain function between men and women, it is unlikely this will dispel the need for the accommodation Henry and Eliza made for each other. However, they first had to realize and accept their need for each other, that each was incomplete and unfulfilled alone.

Granting it appears whimsical, though it is not whimsical at all to me, if this need for another in your life is there how much better the accommodation to the compatibility and honoring of differences than a competition, and a competition in which neither can be the “winner.” But the great musicals resulting from Christian Western Civilization which has produced the greatest advances in the arts and sciences the world has ever known were not possible in nations given to “keeping women in their place.” We might as well expect Mexico to build and launch a space shuttle as to expect musicals like My Fair Lady or Gigi to ever come from any Muslim nation.

In Braveheart the King of England says “The problem with Scotland is that it is filled with Scots.” Muslims certainly agree, and I suppose Muslims, Mexicans, the ACLU and haters of talk radio and conservatives in general would say of our nation “The problem with America is that it is filled with Americans.” These people simply do not want an America filled with Americans, at least not the kind of Americans that want to secure our borders and put our nation ahead of the interests of other nations, that believe English should be our national language by law and don’t believe we should cater to minorities demanding special privilege on the basis of race or perversion. But listening to politicians from Bush on down these seem also to believe the problem with America is that there are too many Americans, an attitude that was certainly reflected by so many politicians after We the People made our voices heard against the bastardized euphemism “immigration reform.”

But not really getting the message, the haters of Americans are now saying the will of the majority of Americans having been heard in wanting secure borders and an end to any talk of amnesty for illegal aliens will cause “Latino backlash” at the polls. Are We the People really expected to believe Latinos will dictate American politics? If so, I can’t think of anything that could create a greater hatred for Latinos! Politicians are as much as telling us Latinos are going to declare war on the great majority of Americans! It does seem the fear mongers using race to intimidate We the People are incapable of turning the page in their book and reading what follows.

Sadly for our nation, the great musicals were as Wodehouse so well pointed out the last time poets worked in America. It may turn out the lack of poets and the great musicals of Western Civilization they produced will prove to be the cause of America’s plunge into an illiterate darkness. But for those of us who were able to turn the page those years ago and read what was to follow the story did not have a happy ending. My generation understood there was no need of the lovers to even kiss in two of the greatest musicals to ever be produced; some few of us even noticed the chiaroscuro effect of the heart formed by the muted light in the courtyard of Gigi. But such subtleties are the purview of poets, and the whole world seems to be suffering the lack of poets.

It has always been good advice to take anyone threatening to kill you seriously. This advice does not change on the basis of “treaties made to be broken.”

The other morning as I was sitting here writing, something caught my eye out one of the windows. It was the resident cat playing with something in the yard; and knowing cats as I do, I was quickly up and out the door. Sure enough, it was some small critter the cat had caught, in this case a lizard, one of the black blue-bellied varieties common hereabouts.

Now this cat showed up at my place here in the country as a very young dumpee nearly eight years ago; and my having fed her, she decided to hang around. We know each other pretty well by now, enough so that she demands her “pets” in my lap and other attention as is the wont of cats in general, and she knows when I appear at such times as with her playing with the lizard I am going to intervene.

Sure enough, I was no sooner out the door when cat went one way and lizard another. It took some doing, but I’m still agile enough to cut the mustard on occasion, and in this case, I soon had the lizard in hand. Having captured the little critter, I took it over to a convenient pile of rocks and released it.

Readers will no doubt realize the futility of all this. Cat is still outside; it is still the cat’s nature to catch lizards and other critters. Some time ago my friend Mike Turner even took a picture of the cat perched on the rocks and made up a cute poster stating, “Wanted for Lizard Killin’.” The cat was unimpressed.

But the cat catching gophers suits me just fine. She sometimes shows up at the back door with a gopher proving she does know the difference between acceptable and unacceptable with me and I suspect to prove to me she earns her keep, though no doubt puzzled, understandably, why I approve her catching gophers but not lizards. I once watched as she missed a gopher, then pretending the nonchalance of Garfield looked at me and acted as though nothing had gone amiss; typical cat behavior.

Notwithstanding the futility of it all, as it is the nature of cats to be predators, so it is my nature to make every attempt to intervene in order to save little critters like the lizard. I’m not going to be able to change the nature of the cat, and no amount of the cat’s nature will change mine in intervening to save the cat’s prey on occasion. Nature red in tooth and claw is true of the beasts, but it is my nature as a civilized human being to intervene with such of Nature red in tooth and claw when possible; well, except for gophers and a few other undesirables.

Now I know some people really do hate cats, and while I have always liked them I can’t imagine what was in the minds of the gods to create lions and tigers on the one hand and produce the small furry creatures that warm many a lap while contentedly purring away. But whether dogs or cats I find it unconscionable for people to allow the indiscriminate breeding of these animals, especially when feral cats decimate bird populations and so many unwanted dogs and cats wind up being destroyed. This easily leads to my thoughts about the indiscriminate breeding by people that give no thought to the future of the resulting babies; however ...

There is no changing the nature of cats big or small; they are born predators and remain predators regardless all efforts to make them otherwise, regardless of the many cute pictures of cats with birds and hamsters perched on their heads, even the pictures of a momma cat nursing baby squirrels. Warm and fuzzy does not make a cat other than what it is—but what about Muslim terrorists?

Western Civilization is facing an implacable foe in Islam, a woman-hating religion of the sword that is a breeding ground for hatred of all who are not Muslims. The particularly virulent strains of Islam is fed children with their mother’s milk, and the resulting murderers of the innocent do not all come from barbaric conditions of want and poverty, some graduate from the schools in civilized nations.

Granted I do believe there are in fact “children of the Devil,” the monsters in human guise that prey on women and children, the kind of monsters that delight in the torture and murder of human beings. In a civilized society such monsters, whether of the Devil or not, are put away when caught. But what can be done when a religion teaches and encourages such monsters? Such is the risk all civilized nations are taking by allowing the religion of Islam to be protected and flourish in their midst.

While the cat is a predator by instinct, by its nature, we choose to believe this is not true of human beings. We want to believe a child raised in the proper environment of love and tolerance can never be taught to hate and murder others. But while we know what cruel poverty and ignorance can do in the life of any child, these are no more reliable predictors of behavior than the child raised in the best of circumstances. Some just seem to be born monsters.

We do know the teaching of hatred of those who are “different” by any measure can be taught children; and it is the responsibility of civilized people to avoid this kind of teaching, to root it out wherever it is found. Unfortunately for America the viper of “tolerance” for hatred has allowed for every kind of teaching of hatred for America and Americans to be found throughout our nation, especially in mosques and the inner cities, in jails and prisons where the most converts to Islam are being made. The result has to be an increase of what we see happening in Britain, and accelerating attempts to make such things happen here in America. It is only sensible to realize 9/11 was the gauntlet being thrown by the Islamic haters of all non-Muslims.

It seems good people do not have representation. No doubt the great majority of Muslims are good people, but they lack representation; there is no concerted outcry among Muslims to end the atrocities being committed by Muslims. And the accommodations to Islam by Western nations are construed by the Muslim teachers of hatred of all non-Muslims to be weakness with ever bit the disdain Hitler had for Chamberlain. Right now the “Chamberlains” are in charge because of oil and global corporations. And I continue to fear and look south through my windows for that mushroom cloud rising over Los Angeles as a consequence of greed and avarice cloaked in the politically correct speech of politicians and the MSM.

I can trust my cat to be a cat. That is its nature. But until Muslim leaders begin to make a concentrated effort to cooperate in holding their own accountable, to eradicate the teaching of hatred of all non-Muslims in the mosques throughout civilized nations I will only trust a Muslim to be a Muslim. And so long as greed and avarice control our government with the accompanying corruption born of greed and avarice so long will our borders remain porous inviting terrorist attacks whether our enemies are home grown or imported.

As though I needed further proof that life is unfair I have been cheated of a Darwin Award. Too many times in my life I have done things richly deserving of the award only to have guardian angels butt in and interfere thereby depriving me of the distinction I tried so hard to earn.

In mining, with which I am very familiar by experience, it is called “The Prudent Man Clause.” This requires you to prove to the government your claim would be profitable to work. Unfortunately, jurisprudence in America has fallen into such disarray it seems the prudent part often falls into the category of “The law is either a bachelor or an a--,” an increasingly unwieldy Rube Goldberg apparatus and a patchwork of laws too often at odds with each other. Who, for example, would have believed a judge would sue for millions of dollars over a pair of pants and such a thing ever even make it into a court of law? As though “How much justice can you afford?” is not bad enough, America has become such a litigious society it seems you must be either very poor or very wealthy to survive. That is, unless you are a politician or a judge in which cases the laws ordinary citizens are bound by seem not to apply.

Of course, if everyone was endowed with equal prudence there wouldn’t be any Darwin Awards, which discounting the fact the “winners” are people that get seriously hurt or killed for their lack of prudence give us a laugh about how some people can do things that are really stupid. Note that I do not say such people are stupid, but that they did stupid things qualifying them for this onerous award. However, were it not for guardian angels, in my opinion, some of the stupid things I have done might well have earned me such a distinction. So I’m not as quick to laugh at the winners of the Darwin Awards as some others might be. And looking back I can be forgiven for thinking that living to my elder status has been nothing short of miraculous.

Generally we think of prudence being a mark of maturity and without question people mature at different rates, if they mature at all. We do not expect the same level of prudence in children that we do of adults. Bill Watterson certainly understood this, which made his Calvin and Hobbes so successful. Quite understandably to Calvin his parents simply were unreasonable denying his reasonable requests for things like flamethrowers and bazookas.

When I was a boy living here on the mining claim I was awakened one night by a skunk that had come into the cabin. It was an entrancing idea to have my very own pet skunk. Like Calvin, I did not ask my grandparents a question I already knew would provoke a negative response. Instead, I began leaving table scraps for my nocturnal visitor without bothering to inform my grandparents. Then one night the dog tangled with the skunk and we were all awakened by the horrendous odor throughout the cabin. My grandfather in particular exhibited a very negative and uncharitable attitude towards my pet and planned its demise. Leaving out some cyanide-laced sardines he figured that would do the trick. However, the skunk having been miffed by the dog’s attempt to be friendly didn’t return. But grandad’s plan did bear fruit. A couple of days later I found our cat dead. On my side, perhaps grandad should have known the cat would be a likely victim of his plan for a deceased skunk.

Well, I don’t dare bore readers with the stupid things I have done in my life (can’t you just hear Cleavon Little in Blazing Saddles saying “Dare, dare”). Suffice it to say (dang) I have done too many stupid things in my life to call anyone else stupid. And no matter the detractors of Intelligent Design I believe I am living proof of guardian angels. Nevertheless, people do stupid things and we still get a chuckle out of the Darwin Awards.