One Nation Under WHO?!

 I just saw a long ranting post about The United States having a Christian foundation and we “need to get back to god”. It was made clear at the beginning that this was not a topic for debate. I’m respecting that. But I have something to say in response, so I’ll post it here. 

Not for nothing, but there IS separation of church and state. Thomas Jefferson in fact, in commentary on the First Amendment, said “legislature should 'make no law respecting an establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof,' thus building a wall of separation between Church and State”. If the church, and I mean ANY church of ANY religion, wants a say as to who is God or not, they can sacrifice their tax-exempt status. 

As to the other quote, it states it “endowed by their creator”. That the decision on who exactly that creator is, depends on the perspective of the individual in question. The Bible clearly states “work out YOUR OWN sin, with fear and trembling” not to mention “for anyone who knows to do right and does it not, to HIM it is sin”.  By that rationale, if we take, for instance, a Muslim, who worships Allah and that is what he knows to be right, then to not call Allah “Ywh”, is not a sin. Not to mention that Allah and God are one and the same, considering that Islam is a split from Judaism. For at Mt. Sinai when Moses brought the Ten Commandments, Islam continued on with the law of Abraham, and Judaism followed the law of Moses. 

The Stranger The Boy Became

 PREFACE

It has been suggested more than once, that I write an autobiography. I've considered it brfore but never really did so mostly because I have absolutely no idea how to. But the the thought occured to me, I write a blog, albeit infrequently, I write late-night musings. I have a million an one stories to tell about my life. From some of my earliest memories, to becoming a teen, to growing into adulthood. I can honestly say, there has never been a dull moment. Not ever. Now, i'm going to issue a couple of small warnings before we begin.  First, as I have stated on my blog, I am going to share MY memories. If you were there, you may remember things different than I do, and that's ok. If you disagree, write your own book.This is how I remember events. I will tell you now that there will be some very funny stories, and some that may astonish you in many ways, the most common way being that i'm still alive. There will be some dramatic accounts, not fictitious, but dramatic. I will also warn you that there will be accounts of sexual abuse from when I was a child. Be advised, not ALL of this will be easy to read, and this is your only "trigger warning". Proceed with caution, but also with the carnival ride trepidation of "what's around the next corner". All i'm trying to say is that while it may be filled with fun anecdotes, it will be filled with what I remember. Not everyone will be happy with it. I will finish this preface with this very important announcement. I am not responsible for, nor shall I take responsibility for, how anything you read herein makes you feel.  My words are my words, my memories are my memories, your responses are your responsibility.

Fair enough? Well then, lets proceed and move forward with some words from a poem I wrote so many years ago.

"So, come with me, as together we play with madness. Journey into the darkness of my mind. You can leave your fears behind, as I have plenty to go around"

CHAPTER 1

It's strange. Now that I finally decide to tell my story, I have no idea how to begin.  The youngest memories are really mere flashes of images. Situations, persons, even places. But, how am I to recall the details? It's impossible to hypnotize me and bring out memories. I wouldn't trust those anyhow. I would be certain that the hypnotist would plant ideas that form into false memories.  I don't need that at all.  Why intentionally fabricate things when the truth can be so very horrible on it's own, and doesn't need additives. 

  I guess the earliest I an recall, was an apartment complex we lived in.  It wasn't the best neighborhood to  be found, but it also wasn't the worst. As I recall, the buildings were 2 stories high, and there was law in the very center, and i am almost sure there was either a sandbox or an actual playground. So, there was this kid named Sonny, that was my sometimes friend, sometimes bully. He would take things that were mine, and pick on me. Sometimes he go so far as to hit me. I complained to my parents about is. My dad's response was something along the lines of' "So Kick his little ass." Mom was of the same mindset. One day, I saw Sonny walking up to me, and without a word, I punched his hard in the face and made his nose bleed/ . I remember him going home crying, and me going to our front door of our apartment. I did NOT want to be out there when sunny finally shook it off. I got to the relative safety of home, reached for the doorknob to walk in.....and it wouldn't open. My mother had locked me out of the house. NOT that i was in any trouble, mind you. this was my mom's way of pushing me out of the nest. I remember crying through to door to be let in and she said "No, you two kids need to work this out between you". And here he came. As I recall, he shook my hand, and we were friends fom that day forward.

Last Thought As I Go To Bed™️ Part 3

Last Thought As I go To Bed™️

I’ve been binging on the series Bosch. Titus Welliver has really sold me on the role. Up until now, he’s always been the Bruja primogen “Cameron” from Kindred: The Embraced. At any rate, it’s a really good series.

But here is what sparked this little essay. There is a scene I just saw of a helicopter flying over LA at night. The blanket of lights stretched across the city, and I thought of how many times I’ve driven from Corona, or Riverside, down the 91 in the evening and could see those same city lights. They’re beautiful to me, and they make me nostalgic for home.

Here in the Midwest, the stars fill the sky, there are lightning bugs and other things that I didn’t grow up with, the awes and wonders of nature. G-d knows I love NYC too. It has become a second home to me. I fit right in from my first day there. When I’m not there I miss the hustle and bustle, the food, the street venders with their Halal gyros, the bodegas that still sell you beer after hours, the West Indian joints with their bed patti in coco bread (thanks to my big bro Kangol for introducing me to those.....

But at the end of the day, SoCal is home. From the smell of the ocean, to the mountains you can see off in the distance, to the city parks, the lights of the city at night. One of my favorite songs is from Undercover, called “Work It Out”. Ojo wrote  “ooooh California attitude gets the better of me, must be something in the air”. I feel that line even when I am so damned far away.

I could sit and write all night about growing up between Orange County, and San Diego county, because I have so many fond memories of life in a simpler time, in a part of the country i love and miss.

Goodnight, you little bastards. I love you all.

And goodnight SoCal. Thank you for an amazing childhood.