The Roy Moore MO?

 

WARNING: Today’s content may be upsetting to some readers.

Of all the brainwashed Evangelicals and other fools who still support U.S. Senate candidate, Alabama Republican Roy Moore, it’s pretty safe to speculate that some of them are parents of female minors. What’s been so astounding is that, in spite of five women now accusing Moore of sexually assaulting and/or harassing them in the distant past (when they were in their early and mid teens) the support from Moore’s voter base remains unwavering… in some cases has even been intensifying!

The insanely defiant and inappropriately indignant Moore has been trying his damnedest to bogusly portray his accusers as liars… misrepresent himself as the victim of some unfounded, political, ideological and theological, media driven witch hunt. He’s been hemming and hawing during media interviews and ranting and raving from the campaign trail stump… as if what? High decibel leveled rampaging and roaring could ever transform anyone’s lies into truths?

Of course, it’d not be going out on a limb to call out Moore as a liar. Even U.S. Senate Majority Leader Mitch McConnell and U.S. House Speaker Paul Ryan no longer believe him.

Much worse than Moore’s ruthless, political ambition is his intimation that he has always been sweet and considerate prior to sexually assaulting his underage victims. Check out this creepy, far from reassuring example of that pig’s hogwash…

 

“I don’t remember dating any girl without the permission of her mother.”

 

Good gawd almighty! Are we to believe that Moore has actually ding-donged the doorbell, tipped his cowboy hat and in his thick southern accent, interlaced with his lecherous laughing, drawled out to countless moms…

 

Roy: G’day, li’l lady! Allow me to introduce myself. I’m Roy Moore and I’m running to be the next U.S. Senator to represent the great state of Alabama. I can already tell by your purdy li’l smile that you’ve heard of me! Well, to get right down to it… I could not help but admire your underage daughter when I ogled and whistled at her… tailed her ever so closely last Saturday night at the Gadsden Mall. However, since I am so gentlemanly, I’m approaching you first to let you in on all the salacious plans I have for her. You see, I plan to molest your little girl… deny her all the carefree days of her youth… traumatize and flat out ruin her entire life. And then, as soon as I tire of her, I’ll promptly dump her. Now, I do hope you’ve raised your little missy to be submissive to whatever demands I will make of her… as in… no questions asked. Indeed, I do fully expect your young’un to worship me… OR ELSE!

Mom: Uh… I dunno… maybe you had better talk to her Pa, too… he’s the man of the house and always makes the major decisions.

Roy: I thought you might hesitate. You cannot possibly view giving me permission to uh… date… your minor daughter to be a major decision. Ma’am, you’ve offended me! And I do find myself growing a bit peeved, too. So, let’s just cut to the chase! I could make life very difficult for your entire family. That’s because a high and mighty man, such as I, has many deeply rooted connections. Yes indeed, I do own dozens of good ol’ boy lawmen and… uh… well… let’s just say that since they’d be all too happy to take the law into their own hands to do my bidding, you’d be a damn fool not to fully cooperate with me here and now. To that end, I fully expect you to sign this legal waiver, which not only makes your daughter mine… all mine… but also absolves me of all legal and financial responsibility should she ever wind up… uh… well uh… let’s just say… in a family way. After all, any baby making would be all her fault… not mine. So, li’l lady, what’ll it be?”

Mom: Oh Mr. Moore, I don’t know how or why I could’ve ever doubted such a fine, upstanding big man such as you. Speaking on behalf of my husband, I know we both would be honored to have someone as famous and saintly as you violate our little girl. We’d even love to make a sizable contribution to help with your campaign. Now, where do I sign?

Roy: Right by that little ol’ X. Now you be sure to press hard so it appears clearly on all five copies. And do fetch your checkbook, too!

Mom: I know you two will have lots of fun! (turning to shout up the staircase to her daughter). Honey, a nice man named Roy… who’ll soon be our U.S. Senator… is on his way up to pay you a li’l visit! Now you be sure to do whatever this great man tells you to do… no matter what… ya hear?

 

 

I sure as hell do hope that that above conversation is nothing more than a work of fiction. For, if it is not, any mom or pop who’d ever let any sexual predator take indecent liberties with their own daughter should be reported to Child Protective Services… ASAP! Prison sentences for all the guilty parties would be in order, too!

 

Check out related articles HERE and HERE.

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Sunday Mass Mass Murder

Another mass murderer opened fire here in America… the most gun sick society in the world.

This time the bloodbath took place yesterday… on a Sunday… in a church.

I extend my heartfelt condolences to all who tragically lost folks near and dear to them and my best wishes for the fastest, fullest recovery humanly and medically possible to all who were maimed.

Whenever duly concerned folks mention the desperate need for even minimal gun control, America’s cowardly, so-called prez cringes at the mere thought of offending his sociopathic, gun barrel sucking, National Rifle Association besties…no… strike that… beasties. That’s no big surprise considering how the NRA does own him lock, stock and barrel.

#45’s typical, utterly worthless response has been to utter that now-is-not-the-right-time to be discussing this matter… in this particular instance, he said that now is “a little bit soon”.

As if what? It’d be a show of disrespect to all of the dead and wounded?

As if what? He’s concerned about upstaging the survivors? (Is it even possible for a narcissist to ever worry about that?)

As if what? The grieving families would be deeply offended were he to lift even one of his small handed pinky fingers to help avert future mass shooting incidents… act proactively so others need not experience such sorrow?

Truth is that the incidents of gun violence / mass murder are becoming so frequent that, were we to apply the present White House occupant’s whitewash… i.e, his phoned in, now-is-not-the-right-time illogic… each and every time… well…

It’ll NEVER be the right time to discuss this literal life and death matter.

Might this alleged leader actually be yearning for / counting on more mass murdering carnage… i.e., so he can run out the clock on whatever time he has left in the Oval Office… i.e., wind up signing zero gun control legislation into law?

Let’s get real. It’s impossible to imagine how the so-called prez, who always uses superlatives to refer to himself and his business acumen… who fancies himself to be God’s gift to humankind… cannot walk and chew gum at the same time.

The so-called prez needs to redirect his jaw’s energy… less prattling and more chewing… start his exercise regimen by first chewing up and spitting out the tasteless NRA and next reinstating a rule which he killed… the Obama era stipulation that made it tougher for mentally ill individuals to have free access to guns.

 

Read more here

Dallas, TX Baptist church organist, Diane Bish’s rendition of Amazing Grace

 

 

 

 

Sunday Sermon (One Quick Limerick #031)

 

If mankind strays too much, sins sans remorse,

Our cross Creator won’t have much recourse,

He need not play active role,

He’ll let us dig our own hole,

His destroy Earth job, TO US, He’ll outsource!

 

Since, in this liberated male blogger’s opinion, there’s no place for sexism in any religion… and remaining mindful of the fact that Theologians do claim humans are made in God’s image… we must not ignore 50 percent of 7+ Billion people.

 

If our race strays too much, sins sans remorse,

Our wise Creator won’t have much recourse,

She need not play active role,

She’ll let us dig our own hole,

Her destroy Earth job, TO US, She’ll outsource!

 

DISCLAIMER from the Department of Second Thoughts: I don’t believe a female God would ever be a vengeful God. Indeed, She’d behave far more evolved, exhibit far much more patience and empathy… and as such… would work far, Far, FAR more diligently at preventing humankind’s violent, self-destructive end.

 

You can access more original limericks, poetry and lyrical parodies by clicking onto my poetry category.

 

September BlogCast ~ A Heartfelt Plea for Harmony

 

My greetings to all of my WordPress blogging colleagues, followers and visitors! If you’re just here to hear the music, scroll down and start clicking away… these four selections will amply communicate my intended sentiments, which I’ll now further expand on… i.e., should you choose to read onward…

Initially, I found it tough to set the proper mood for this installment of our monthly musical get-together. I had to scuttle my original “hot fun in the summertime” theme… deeming it insensitive and inappropriate in the wake of all the death and destruction caused by Hurricane Harvey… considering how life may never fully return to normal for the millions of flooded out, uprooted survivors in Texas. My heartfelt condolences to folks who lost loved ones and hopes that you, who have survived, can restore your lives as much as possible and can find happiness again.

I’d have to ditto my mood barometer reading regarding all who were recently maimed and slaughtered during the eerily similar, vehicular ISIS terrorist attacks against Barcelona and Cambrils, Spain AND Nazis / Klansmen terrorist assaults against Charlottesville, Virginia. My wholehearted condolences to the all the good people who lost their loved ones and best wishes that the surviving victims recover speedily and as completely as possible. Hopefully, someday soon, happiness will be yours once more.

As if those meteorological and ideological storms weren’t bad enough, already, we, of good conscience, have also been deeply in mourning over the loss of the American presidency. And by saying “presidency” I’m referring to the monumental, leadership vacuum that’s been sucking the air out of the Oval Office… sucking the life force out of my homeland and our global community… all perpetrated by an ethically barren, morally bankrupt, avaricious and vicious, Orwellian, stick-figure figurehead.

In times of trouble, a nation’s citizenry should be able to count on their leader for a comforting pep talk… an FDR-esque, folksy fireside chat as it were… but… alas… long sigh…

Folks, it’s downright depressing and disgusting to observe the cannibalistic, parasitical, so-called prez…

  1. Feeding off the post-hurricane apocalypse’s human suffering… just to sate his voracious narcissistic hungers… just to erect a smokescreen to enshroud his nefarious, fascist political agenda.
  2. Feasting off the ISIS terrorist attacks in Spain just because that’ll wrongfully validate his flat-out hatred of all Muslims1. It is stunning how… practically in the same breath… he lavishes praise upon un-american [sic] Nazis and Klansmen… sucking up to them just so they’ll help reelect him in 2020.

Net effect, the so-called prez, has wildly emboldened these domestic terrorists. Left unchecked, these co-conspirators… the pathetic “prez” and his deplorable pals… will violently subvert all that the real America stands for. We’re likely witnessing the rebirth of Nazi Germany.

So what the hell does that make the so-called prez? An Adolf Hitler / David Duke hybrid? Did some nefarious, eager beaver recombinant DNA scientist mutate him? Did a psychotic psychosurgeon lobotomize / reprogram him? Or was he “merely” born and/or reared that way? Whatever the cause of his mental illness/illnesses, we can only wish him a speedy, complete and permanent recovery. In this modern medical era, no one should be condemned to live out one’s life bouncing off the rubberized walls… be they real or hallucinated.

The real America’s survival… indeed the survival of the whole world… depends on a sane presidency and sound minded leaders elsewhere, too. How else could we ever hope to see our global population live in harmony?

That plea for harmony is from where I now take my musical cue… set the tone for this month’s BlogCast.

Folks, I find the negativity of what I just blogged… to say the least… disturbing. What else can I conclude than negative leaders bring out the worst in me, indeed, in every like-minded, warmhearted, ethical patriot who truly gives a damn? And that has got to change… starting with the legal, orderly and peaceable ouster of such negative entities.

But, until the day that becomes reality… I believe the following music will provide an ear and eye opening… a mind expanding and mood elevating experience.

Accompanying only my sparse, supplemental commentary, I’ll now let the songwriters’ and singers’ sentiments speak for themselves.

Ray Stevens ~ Everything Is Beautiful

Admittedly, I would’ve preferred this track’s religious undercurrents to have been more inclusive of faiths other than Christianity… but… when we consider the less globalized era in which this song was first composed and recorded, would not genuine believers of all religious stripes be forgiving? Additionally, I sincerely believe one can also be agnostic and still be fully capable of concurring with the overall message of unity. Oh, btw, you can also give a listen to an alternate track featuring a duet performed by Ray Stevens and another of this month’s BlogCast featured artists, Glen Campbell.

The New Seekers ~ I’d Love To Teach The World To Sing

Many decades ago a slightly, lyrically modified, abridged version of this song became the soundtrack to a Coca Cola™ commercial, which you can view here.

Glen Campbell ~ Try A Little Kindness

I joyfully rediscovered this track just one week ago upon purchasing the late Mr. Campbell’s greatest hits CD… after finding it while grocery shopping at my local supermarket superstore. I first heard Campbell perform on the late Sixties era, “Smothers Brothers Comedy Hour” TV show… a program with a distinctly, politically progressive POV… from where I derived own liberal attitude. Campbell died just a few short weeks ago on August 8, 2017. You can access a video tribute.

Peter, Paul & Mary ~ Weave Me The Sunshine

Peter Yarrow will now introduce this BlogCast finale… thusly…

“‘Weave Me The Sunshine’  became a very big hit in South Africa and in Brazil and ultimately of course it’s a song that has found it’s way into many churches and synagogues.”

About all I could possibly add, here, (as is true with nearly all folk music) it’s nearly impossible not to sing along with this upbeat and uplifting tune. And I recommend that we all add our voices… sing it loudly… sing it proudly… trump all of those negative vibes. Let us all spread outward its unifying, harmonizing message (indeed, the messages from all four of these songs) to all four corners of our world.

Thank you for listening on this day. If you LIKE what you heard, click back here

for my next BlogCast on Sunday, October 1, 2017.

Past programs are archived in my BlogCast and music categories.

 

 

 

1 We, who still can and do think clearly, fully realize that ISIS has mutilated and muddied true Islam and now exploits it just to justify their deadly, bloody attacks.

 

 

 

If This Is Religion… Let’s Convert To Atheism

 

A blog in heartfelt memory of all the innocents who have been maimed and murdered in terrorist acts and dedicated to all the innocents who have yet to suffer similar fates.

 

Let’s armchair psychoanalyze our terrorist attacked society…

Mere mortals of meager intellect, nonexistent sanity and morality…

  1. have deluded themselves into believing that they’re acting on behalf of a grotesque god of their own creation.
  2. have fancied themselves to be the authors of some “in fine print” exceptions to (what should be) the sacrosanct commandment, “Thou Shalt Not Kill!”
  3. have the G.D. gall to believe their G.D. god has outsourced to them the job of judge, jury and executioner (with heavy emphasis on that executioner role).

What that all boils down to is real religion has been corrupted and co–opted… that mass murder has likely become an incurable scourge that could easily plague our society till the end of time. And how the hell could anyone, who still clings to sanity and morality, ever hope to change such a stone headed, stonehearted, carved in stone mindset?

Looking back upon this with perfect 20/20 hindsight… it almost seems like the human race would’ve been far better off had we all been atheists.

Might that have put us at risk of pissing off our Creator? Might the penalty have been our burning up in hell?

Yet… on second thought… would we have really risked all that much?

Our Creator certainly cannot be pleased with terrorism… its unrelenting, voracious feeding frenzy of brutality and bloodshed. Would He not have understood that it was His failure to provide a sorely needed intervention, which had caused us to give up on him? I mean…

Could He not have even mustered lobbing a few, well timed and targeted lightning bolts to stop all terrorist perpetrators dead in their tracks?

Well now… so long as we’re talking hypotheticals… suppose, as practicing atheists, we’d eventually wind up burning up in hell, anyway?

BURNING UP IN HELL you say???

Considering all of the past barbaric, bloody terrorist acts… and those deplorable acts yet to come…

Are we not already residing in Hell?

At the very least, don’t you think we’d have earned credit (from our Creator) for our time already served in Hell… namely…

Terrorism’s Hell on Earth.

 

 

In Response To Terrorist Acts… Past, Present & Future…

 

 

So, you kill in your god’s name, so you say?

Your Holey War1 is to make “sinners” “pay”?

“Thou Shalt NOT Kill” is NO spin,

When YOU kill folks, that’s YOUR sin,

How will YOU pay, on God’s real Judgment Day?

 

If the voice in your head orders killing,

Commands chaos and carnage, blood spilling,

No one else is to blame,

Except you, fool, by name,

Don’t you dare try to give “God” top billing!

 

Re the god, who you claim to endorse?

Be He Christian, Jew, Muslim or Norse,

Would one gentle and shrewd,

Seek your help, cruel and crude?

NOPE, that’s not work He’d ever outsource!

 

To dive off the deep end is to sink,

Try to muster sound brain cells to think,

Instead fight the insanity,

End your war on humanity,

Seek out peace of mind, hire a shrink!

 

 

1 No… I didn’t misspell “Holy”.

 

Last Christmas

This past Sunday, I opened my eyes to greet Christmas morn just before 7 o’clock. My first waking thoughts were of fond distant, boyhood memories… perhaps, it had even been a quickly fading dream? Whatever the source, my recollection was of bounding down the staircase to find all the presents Santa had left me under the tree.

As I caught my older self smiling, I realized that this special morning required a break in the routine. Instead of immediately heading off to the kitchen to scare up some breakfast, I’d first head out on a half-mile hike to purchase a newspaper.

Some might call me a throwback to a bygone era, but there’s just something special about shutting down the tech to read from an actual, held-in-the-hands, ink-on-paper publication and, afterwards, filling in the Sudoku, Jumble and Crossword Puzzles (LA & NY Times) with a ballpoint pen.

And so, I donned my down parka and stepped out onto my front porch. It being mere days following the Winter Solstice, it was still dark outside and the overnight hush that had descended over my lifelong hometown was still working its magic.

The only audible sounds were the gentle, yet steady, chilly wind whooshing through pine needles and the crunch, crunch, crunch of my Sketchers™ as I traipsed through the lingering patches of snow and frozen slush.

The ambiance of the homes lit up with festive, outdoor and indoor decorations, against the backdrop of an inky sky, easily transported me off into a timeless, fantasyland, all of which significantly slowed my customary walking-run stride. I now wished to make these scenes last an eternity.

It was around this time that an approaching jogger and I exchanged our “Merry Christmas” greetings… but as for any other townsfolk stirring about, either on foot or in their vehicles, these incidents were so rare it eventually felt as if I were all alone in a community of 9+ thousand… in a world of 7+ billion.

I’ve come to know, all too well, these “last man on earth” vibes and the strong sense of impending doom…

While wallowing within the post 2016 Election Day funk.

While fretting about a nuclear saber rattling Twit’s Tweet posted just three days prior to Christmas.

While dreading the incoming admin’s flat-out opposition to intellectual curiosity, integrity, diversity, equality, liberty and sobriety.

While dwelling upon how, in all likelihood, we’re a nation transitioning towards an ecological, economic, and societal nightmare… if not all out apocalypse.

Such serious reservations regarding that well-heeled, untrustworthy entity even caused me to free associate the motto appearing on my own nation’s oft-filthy lucre. Indeed, “In God We Trust” gets minted onto all of our currency and coins. As if what? That we could ever expect God to teach each and every moneygrubbing american [sic] not to worship that false god… a.k.a. the almighty buck? If He has attempted to get His message across before, it has, for the most part, fallen upon deaf ears.

My Godly thoughts next gravitated towards Christmas’ true meaning… about a birth, which, purportedly, had taken place long ago on this very night… off in the faraway land of Bethlehem.

It was about then when I sufficiently surfaced from my deep thoughts to realize the time had come to plink my six, silvery 25-cent pieces into the liquor store’s, storefront vending machine. Through the display glass I had already read one of the front page headlines… a report telling how homeowners, who are installing solar panels, are getting penalized with sky-high property tax assessments. Imagine that… instead of being commended, folks are being condemned for going green… having to shell out extra “green” because they had hoped to help save our planet.

Slowly shaking my head side to side, I slid my newspaper into my tote bag. At that stage, I could’ve immediately headed for home, but, all the sudden it dawned on me… considering the inconsiderateness of the soon to be installed new admin, this could very well be the last Christmas I (or anyone else) would be experiencing.

With that in mind, this called for a course-correcting maneuver.

I reset my bearings to pass through my once-upon-a-time neighborhood… revisit the place I had called home for the first seven years of my life. Perhaps I might even catch a glimpse of a framed in the window, fully lit Christmas tree? Maybe it’d even be located in the very same southwest corner of the living room, where, more than half a century earlier, my sister and I had discovered all the toys Santa had left for us?

Crossing at the next intersection and briefly heading west… then south, I deliberately slowed my pace as, yet, another little boy recollection kicked in. It had been on an early spring evening where I had raced my bike at top speed down this very same stretch of sidewalk. Oh, the freedom that once represented. Oh, the freedom that might soon be torn asunder.

Once at the bottom of this hill (both in memories and reality), I felt disappointment as I discovered the new occupants were still asleep and their holiday decorations were all dark.

With a long sigh, I hooked a left at the corner. Passing by a nearby home, the sound of a man filling his bird feeder with seed drew my attention leftward. As our eyes met, he wished me, “Merry Christmas”… and I echoed those sentiments back to him.

By this time, dawn’s early light had changed the sky from black to bluish gray. Walking past a hedge still sporting most of its brown leaves, all the sudden, I realized I was practically living out the lyrical story, which songsmiths Michelle and John Phillips had related in their mega hit, California Dreamin’. Deep down I, too, was California Dreamin’ on such a winter day… especially since that West Coast state is where my last surviving family members reside.

As I trekked onward, my next stop was the nearby town square. For multiple decades that main four-cornered intersection had boasted our one and only stoplight. As I peered up and down Michigan Avenue, I couldn’t help but notice how, while the skyline had basically remained the same, the storefronts certainly had wound up quite different from their yesteryear signage… as had their new proprietors’ offered products and services.

A tavern, nightclub and a several eateries had replaced a “Mom and Pop” grocery store, the “Five and Dime”, the Family Apparel and Gambles Hardware stores and the Rexall Soda Fountain / Drugstore. About the only businesses that have stayed the same and still remain within their original buildings are a bank and barbershop… albeit both under new ownership.

Of course, Christmas morn’s nearly non-existent, vehicular traffic would’ve made it so easy for me to fully flip off the crosswalk’s “Don’t Walk” admonition, yet, I waited obediently. I wanted to take in and fully savor, in its entirety, the recently renovated and resurfaced, disappearing into the eastern and western horizons, Michigan Avenue, itself.

Upon crossing over to the south side of the street, I soon found myself standing in front of a factory. Prior to its construction, that entire block had been zoned residential… and one of those homes had been where I had lived during the first two months of my life. Of course, images of that long ago, razed house now only exist in the snapshots posted in my family photo album.

Traveling down to the next intersection, I crossed Michigan Avenue once more and headed northward. With that California Dreamin’ story and lyrics still fresh in my mind, I stopped at a church I passed along the way… pausing long enough to admire their Nativity Scene… to offer up my heartfelt prayer to Him… to beseech Him to intervene… to deliver the Christmas present of tact to that hotheaded man… to spare humanity our eons too early mass grave.

I no sooner said my “Amen” than I began diagonally traversing the soon to be filled, church parking lot. I next crossed a side street to wind up right in front of the very first house my (then) newlywed parents had rented upon their arrival in town.

At that juncture, my Christmas morning hike was starting to come full circle. I did opt to return, one last time, to see if the Christmas decorations had finally lit up my old home. Alas… they hadn’t.

For the first time since setting forth that morn, I checked my wristwatch. I had covered all of this old, familiar ground in less than 40 minutes. Considering that it’d take me another 15 to make it back home, my entire walk down memory lane would be completed in under an hour.

Starting to feel a bit hungry in the here and now, I headed for home… where I’d soon be brewing up some fresh coffee, flipping pancakes and drowning them in maple syrup… flavors I’d be savoring as much as the “flavors” of my sweet memories.

With each forward step, I found myself hoping that my prayers for repeated, Divine Intervention in post Inauguration Day 2017 DC will be answered. If that’s not to be… well…

All I can do is urge all who read this… all over our world… to cherish our waning days of “normalcy”… to fully appreciate whatever good, we may still find… to hold on to our pleasant thoughts for as long as we still can. Regrettably, that all can be easily obliterated once a small handed, small thinker pushes that Big Badass Button.