"A nation that forgets its past is doomed to repeat it." - Winston Churchill

The Snare of Arrogance

By: T.F. Parks

Have you ever known someone who just wouldn’t listen?  You know, that guy that despite all the evidence and testimonials, is convinced that he is so skilled, that he can accomplish what others have failed to do.  Don’t get me wrong, I’m not talking about self confidence.  What I’m referring to is a blind arrogance that doesn’t take in to account past failures.  Instead this person is determined to follow the same outline as those who have failed before; feeling that they are somehow much more equipped to make it happen.

This sort of arrogance is a snare.  It is a snare that is clearly visible yet people inevitably hope right into it, time and time again.  It is a fool’s end, a prideful fall, and a tragically avoidable destruction.

The obvious direction of our great nation points directly to a piece of biblical wisdom that states “pride comes before the fall”.  As a nation we’ve become so arrogant that we believe that any choices we make can be weathered with minimal consequence.  Unfortunately that simply is not true.  Just ask ....Rome.... how that attitude worked out for them.

Looking at our governing officials, it is painfully obvious that humility is not an attribute possessed by the vast majority.  These people have begun to see themselves not as representatives of the people but rather as fatherly, motherly…even godly dignitaries empowered with the wisdom and good sense not possessed by their constituents.

When representation begins to tell those they represent what is going to happen rather than the other way around, then the its time to replace them.  When we do not move to replace them due to apathy, ignorance and/or stupidity then our system fails completely.  When the system fails, inevitably a new system is implemented.  That system will always be more controlling than the one previous. 

For every freedom yielded another with be compromised.  The more that are compromised the more have to be yielded.  It is like a tug of war you’ll never win.  Each inch of rope given up in hopes to keep a hand hold, is one inch closer to complete defeat.  Powerful people understand this and I think its time the rest of us do as well.

Here’s something for you to consider.  This country will never ever be conquered by military means.  There is no country on this planet that can defeat us on our own soil, not one.  Not even nuclear weaponry can defeat us because of the understanding of mutual destruction.  So even the devastation of nuclear war can’t destroy what we have here.

That’s the good news…here’s the bad.

We can, are, and will be conquered by our own arrogance and destroyed, not by force but by the pocket book.  The down fall of the ....United States of America.... will be economics. 

Now some will say we have weathered the great depression and the total crash of the stock market that caused it.  Unfortunately that was only the beginning of our economic woes, despite our great wealth years later. 

The depression created a fear in the hearts and minds of people. This was the moment that the people of the ....United States.... turned to the White House and placed in our government’s hands the end of our nation.  We decided to trade our freedom for entitlement and it’s only gotten worse since that moment.

Sure there were welfare policies before the great depression.  I’m not saying there weren’t but it was this event that changed the heart of men.

Let me tell you what has happened to “men”.  There was a time in our history where a “man” would nearly die before taking a hand out.  He had a sense of pride in working for what he had and if he didn’t work for it, then he didn’t want it.  Men taught their sons to be hard workers, to understand that every person has the responsibility to provide for themselves and their families. 

The American dream was not “go to ....America.... where they give you everything you want and need”.  The American dream was “in ....America.... a man can work for himself, provide for his family and own what he toils for”.

We have forgotten that immigrants come here not for entitlements but for a chance to keep what they earn, to have a chance to make a better life for themselves.  In an entitlement nation a person works for a collective therefore they can never grow beyond the collective.  There is no chance to excel.

Liberal minds do not see the problem with this.  They believe that never growing beyond the collective is a good thing, that it ensures equality.  The truth is, it ensure mediocrity at best.  For people to grow, for society to advance there must be competition, their must be hope.  A person with an idea must be allowed to run that idea out to failure or success so that the person behind them can build upon what has been learned.  Entitlement destroys that creativity, that growth.

So if governmental entitlement is wrong, how then can we provide for those who honestly need help?  How can we be a compassionate, loving society if we do not provide for those who are down trodden or sick?

I am not implying in any way that we do not provide for one another in times of need.  I’m saying the government has no place in it.  Charity should come, as it always has, from the private sector and more importantly the church.

Private sector business will always dig deep for charity.  Right, wrong or indifferent it is a part of success.  To be successful and not support charity is a kiss of death to a business.  People expect those with excess to do good with a portion of their profits and thusly a business will be sure to give often and give much.  The reasons often time are selfish I realize.  Its good press to found a charity, moreover many people feel that the only thing that justifies their life is with “good deeds” therefore there will always be a flow of cash in these areas.

Where the boat is missed a lot of times is where charity really should come from, and that is the church.  How many of you attend a church with a building fund even though there are empty seats each Sunday?  If you can’t fill the seats why do you need a new building?  Wouldn’t that money be better spent buying bread for the hungry?  Wouldn’t that new piece of stained glass feed an army of homeless?  Couldn’t we go another year or two with the old carpet if that means we can reach out to those who are unemployed and help them survive the hard times?  For that matter who needs carpet?

As people have turned away from God, they’ve lost what it means to really be charitable.  Charity means love.  It is a hand up, not a hand out.  So instead of helping one another we expect our government to be the ones to burden the bills.  The funny thing is that the jokes on them because we are going to pay the price regardless, through taxes, through compromised services, and through loss of freedoms.

This country has made a decision that will not easily be reversed.  They decided to give up.  The determination to fight and work for what is important has been replaced with dependency. 

Those of us who see this are frustrated right now.  We shout, and scream and argue but no one is listening.  The truth of the matter is, a few good intentions by a few good men and women won’t make a difference.  Its going to take action, its going to take people and in particular the church putting conviction and faith to the test by fulfilling these intentions and not just complaining.

Yet, we’ve been told by these great minds that we don’t know what we are doing…that if we would just turn away from our backwards, back woods, Neanderthal ways and come into the 21^st century then we’d see.  We’d see that despite how many times the leftist ways have failed in the past, we are far too advanced to make the same mistakes even while taking the same approaches.

Pride comes before the fall and arrogance is a snare.  The only way out is humility and unfortunately for our nation, sometimes the only way to learn humility is fail.

God bless

© 2009 all rights reserved

I had an idea for a story called "the Jester's tear" several months ago. I never had the chance to really get into because of other projects I'm working on. Looks like its going to end up as a "play". I'm not sure if this thing will ever really get off the ground but I have written a scene for the main character.

The man is named Naam. He is a Jester in a midevil cort. He has fallen in love with the kings daughter. He's not sure if the feelings are mutual but while exploring his thoughts, his mind has turned to even deeper things. His love, his station, and his purpose have all come into question. Is it his lot in life to be a "fool" or is there something more. Could he dare to dream of something more? Or is it all just a dreamers dream.

any way I call this scene or really it is a soliloquy by Naam "Fancy Bred". I don't know why I guess I was just thinking of something from Willy Wonky when he asked the man "where is fancy bred, in the heart or in the head" seems like a fair question to me lol ;-)

Fancy Bred

By: T.F. Parks

Tumbling, twisting, falling...

Down, down, down...

Through the mazes of unseen whimsy...

Past the point of no return.

A dreamer's dream? A nightmare of retching reality filled with broken promises never intended to be fulfilled?

Purpose? What is purpose? If one have purpose yet another purpose flees, what then is left for those between?

Shall I take upon my shoulders the purpose vacant from he who discerns it not? Is this my purpose? Is it yours?

Or shall we all by purpose avoid purpose and turn to flights of fancy and of fleet of foot loose merry?

What ties do bind to purpose if there be, or if there be none?

Family ties? To the Divine? To thy neighbor do our affections lie?

To self? If to self then what of love? Does not love by defining lament disprove thy selfish intent?

What then? How then?

For money's sake shall we implore, and leave the home for foreign shores?

It's not about the money , lest we make life's quest of things that cease to be. As the flesh from bone does time strip, so too are money gains consumed.

Thus we lay upon our beds, the weary, burdened and troubled brow.

To ask ourselves where fancy bred; upon the heart or in the head.

A dreamers dream yes life can be...a nightmare too can it seem. Still twisting, still turning, still falling down...down...down. Purpose? Yes purpose? If only to be a hand, a foot, an eye for he who has none. To be a voice for those without speech. To be the strong back for those who are weak. Yes a purpose there must be.

We know not the fullness of this life, nor shall we ever squeeze the last drop from it. Too much time. We hold it not within our breast. We recognize not how fleeting. Sands slip by. Could have? Should have? Would have?

Did not...

Shall I now? Shall we now?

Unsure each moment is. Still, in knowing...reveling...sharing there is hope. Hope that I shall...hope that we shall.

Yes! Purpose and fancy, these two can share a marriage bed. For fancy bring thought and purpose puts thought to action. Fancy without direction means little and purpose without action is vain.

These are the things that reach for me in the night, troubles my sleep. A jester am I, yet jest, and merry flee from my heart to leave me with teary eye.

(sees the sun begin to rise through the stone window)

Oh away with thee, thou roughshod thought. Let me be and let me dream. Let me view her in my mind, let me hold her in mine heart. The sun begins to raise his head. The cock shall sing his merry song without mine eyes to rest.

(the sound of a rooster crowing)

Away from me thou foul morning song. Retreat to my chamber shall I.

No.

There shall be no slumber, no dreamers dream till Jester's tear be wipe away.

-knock, knock-

The sound of someone rapping on the door of

His eyes were sore and swollen and his mouth was dry.  A thick fog seemed to cloud his mind causing him not to recognize his surroundings at first.  He rubbed his palms into his eyes attempting to drive the haze from his mind and quell the relentless pounding that persisted behind the sockets.

-knock, knock, knock-

The rapping on the door turned into something more of an insistent banging.  Jason turned his body and put his feet on the floor.  He looked down to notice that he was wearing his shoes.  For that matter the man was fully clothed.  It was no surprise.  He was in the habit of falling asleep this way.  He had become accustomed to passing out fully clothed. He couldn’t remember the last time he had laid his head down to sleep without the help of some liquid encouragement.

-KNOCK, KNOCK-

The person behind the door was now hitting the door with excessive force.

“Alright, alright…hang on” Jason shouted impatiently

He slowly pushed to his feet then reached under his pillow to pull a blue steal .38-caliber revolver.  He pressed the palm of his left hand to his left eye one last time as he tried to shake off his headache.  Slowly he eased his way to the window and gingerly moved the curtain only enough to see who was standing behind the door.

A man in a very nice, light blue three-piece suit reached up and struck the door three more times, causing Jason’s headache to be further inflamed.  Two men dressed in darker colored suits flanked either side of the well dressed man.  Jason recognized muscle when he saw it. 

Despite the curiosity as to who the man was Jason’s self preservation instincts were in full tilt boogy.  He searched his memories trying to discern whom he may have ticked off this time.   The problem was that the alcohol he had been pickling himself with the last few months had done a great job of washing away his memory as well.  It didn’t really matter he supposed.  It could have been any number of former clients, lawyers, bookies, etc.

No matter, he’d slip out the bathroom window and leave sleeping dogs lie.  Whatever he had done to grab this man’s attention he’d be sure to live on for the chance to do it to someone else…just somewhere far away from here.

Jason pulled away and began to back towards the bathroom.

-Crash-

Suddenly the door shattered as it was knocked from its hinges.  The two men in the darker suits stepped in.  Jason raised his gun only to find two more barrels pointed directly at his head.

“Drop it” Jason instructed.

The two men stood stone faced and immoveable.

Sweat ran down the side of his face.  This was a no win situation.  He could never shoot both of them before he was killed and despite the lack of quality to his life, he didn’t want to die.  He was afraid of death.  The paradox of it however, was that he was equally afraid of life. 

“I mean it” Jason shouted; doing his best to bluff.

As the tension in his body intensified, the third man stepped in the door and put his hand on the shoulder of the man closest to Jason.  The two men lowered their guns as the man stepped past them.

“I’m sorry Mr. Leach, I didn’t mean to intrude this way but I’ve had the most horrible time trying to catch up with you these last few weeks.  I was afraid I’d miss you again” the man said with a smile then extended his hand as if to shake.

“My name is Garret Dansby” the man introduced himself.

Jason looked closely at the man.  His foggy mind finally cleared enough for him to recognize who was standing in front of him.  Jason had seen Garret Dansby on television many times.  This had to be a dream.  What would one of the riches men in the world possibly want with a washed up private detective?

After a few tense moments Dansby finally withdrew his hand then wiped it self-consciously on his leg as if removing some unseen filth. Jason noted the behavior as odd, especially considering the man was wearing gloves.

“Its ok guys, Mr. Leach and I have something to discuss.  Please wait for me outside” Dansby said to his men.

One of the men looked at his employer as if to resist the order.  Something in Dansby’s face changed as they locked eyes.  Jason could see that despite Dansby’s slight frame and seemingly awkward appearance, the man commanded authority. 

Dansby’s men reluctantly withdrew through the door, leaving Jason alone with their employer.

“Do you mind? Those things have always made me a little uneasy” Dansby said concerning the gun Jason continued point toward the man.

Jason slowly lowered it before stuffing it into the waist of his slacks and turning away toward a luggage stand where he had thrown his blazer the night before. 

“What do you want” Jason said as he rummaged through the pockets of the jacket looking for another pack of cigarettes.

“I need your services” Dansby replied earnestly.

Jason found another empty pack in one of the pockets then tossed the jacket back onto the stand before crumpling the package and tossing it to the floor.  He turned back toward Dansby as he rubbed his face.

“Do you have any smokes” Jason replied, ignoring the man’s statement.

“I’m sorry I don’t smoke” Dansby replied.

“How about Heckle and Jeckle, either one of them buttheads” Jason asked.

“No, I don’t allow it around me but as I was saying” Dansby replied with an uncomfortable chuckle.

“No” Jason cut the man off in mid sentence.

“Sir” Dansby questioned

“You don’t need my services because I don’t offer any” Jason replied as he began searching the room while ignoring Dansby.

“I don’t think you understand Mr. Leach” Dansby began to speak

“Mr. Leach was my father, my name is Jason and I think you are the one that doesn’t get it.  There is nothing I can do for you” Jason interjected without facing the man.

“Perhaps Mr. L…that is Jason, perhaps if you’d hear me out…I could change your mind.  I am told that I can be pretty persuasive at times” Dansby replied

“Fine, go ahead and talk” Jason replied as he picked through an ashtray until he found a half smoked cigarette.

“I have to say Jason, I can’t remember the last time I was treated like this.  It’s sort of refreshing” Dansby chuckled.

“I aim to please” Jason said as he lit the cigarette then sat down on the bed.

“Sit down, I hate it when people stand over me” he continued and pointed to a chair in the corner.

“Of course, of course” Dansby said then pulled the chair over and sat across from Jason.

“First of all I want you to know that you come highly recommended” Dansby began.

“Yeah, sure…I’m in real high demand these days” Jason replied dryly.

“I realize times are tough for you Jason.  The fact is, most everyone has fallen on tough times since the disappearances” Dansby said

“Yeah, I’m sure you’re under a huge strain these days, Mr. Dansby.  Let’s see… ..eight thirty.. or so, wake up in a multimillion dollar mansion. ..Ten o’clock.. try to figure out which private jet to take to one of twenty vacation homes for brunch.  Excuse me if I find your statements slightly condescending” Jason retorted.

Dansby hung his head slightly and nodded agreement.

“I’m sorry Jason, I didn’t mean to offend you but I can assure you it wasn’t meant to belittle your circumstances.  Nevertheless, monetary difficulties do not constitute every heartache” Dansby’s voice seemed thinner and less confident.

A great sadness filled Dansby’s features and body language.  Jason could tell that the man had suffered some loss that had affected him much deeper than in his pocket book.

“Yeah well, right now money is the only thing that constitutes my problems…that and the fact I need a real cigarette, so if you aren’t going to get to the point I’m going to have to excuse myself” Jason stood up.

“Sit down Mr. Leach” Dansby’s voice took on an air of authority and seemed to somehow grip at Jason’s will to stand.

“Please” the man followed up.

Jason found himself slowly lowering himself back to edge of the bed.

“My son Charles is missing Mr. Leach and I’m told you are one of the best, if not the best private investigator on the continent” Dansby finally explained.

“I don’t do those gigs anymore.  Besides, your information is wrong.  I used to be the best. Now I’m just a drunk with a three pack a day tobacco habit and one suit to my name.  I haven’t solved a case in three and a half years” Jason replied.

“Mr. Leach…Jason, do you really think that I’d waist my time and resources to track someone down if I didn’t absolutely believe he was the very best in his field.  I’ve read of your work with the LAPD and of your work in the private sector.  That piece of investigative artistry you exhibited in finding that kidnapped woman in ....Singapore.... four years ago was astounding” Dansby said.

Jason flicked the butt of the cigarette across the room.  The smoldering “cherry” left over broke apart as the butt stuck the mirror and fell onto the dresser.

“That was a long time ago” Jason replied “besides, I haven’t been able to find anyone who disappeared three years ago.  Not even one clue was left behind.  Do you think you are the first influential cat who has darkened my door looking for kids, or wives or whatever since that day?  Whatever happened to them…unless they come back or someone spills the beans, we ain’t ever gonna know anything more than we do right now”

“I don’t think you understand Jason.  Charles has only been missing for about a year.  He started acting erratic the month after the disappearances. At first, I thought he was suffering emotional strain from everything that had happened but now I am less certain” Dansby paused a moment as if collecting his thoughts.

“Surely you know all the theories that have been presented concerning the disappearance.  I don’t need to tell you that some of them are pretty fantastic. Some of them even seem to be completely laughable.  Still, without any evidence…its tough to rule out anything.  Even the explanation given by his Excellency Titus Humanious seems difficult to accept” Dansby said then stood up and stepped to the door.

Jason watched closely as he kept his hand on his pistol.  Dansby said something to one of his men then turned back to Jason.

“Charles had a theory of his own.  He believed that those missing were spirited away.  He believed that the world was coming to an end and that God himself had taken the others away because they had met some criteria that the rest of us had missed” Dansby said.

“Oh brother” Jason said as he stood up himself.

“Mr. Dansby, I’m sure your son is fine.  He’s probably up in the hills somewhere making hemp bracelets or dancing with snakes or something.  When the weed runs out I’m sure he’ll be back looking for some cash” Jason stated.

“You could be right” Dansby said with a half hearted chuckle.

“I just can’t leave that to chance.  You see, what Charles had to say has begun to make a lot of sense.  He predicted something that I find very intriguing.  He said that all currency would be unified and now with the announcement of the “Titus” bills I’m more than a little apprehensive about the future” Dansby replied.

“What are you worried about? I’m sure there will be a fair exchange rate on your assets” Jason asked.

“What concerns me has more to do with the manner of exchange than the rate.  I’m not sure how up on current events you are Jason but changes are being put in place that are slightly disconcerting; especially considering what Charles had told me” Dansby answered.

“I guess I’m a little out of the loop.  Why don’t you fill me in” Jason said.

“It’s like this Jason.  To keep my assets in place, for any of us to keep what we have…we will have to receive a tattoo on our right hand or forehead.  It’s really a very remarkable piece of technology.  Somehow the ink works as sort of a transmitter and receiver.  Every aspect of our life is stored in it.  All our health records, bank transactions…everything we do can be tracked through this “mark”.  A person can go anywhere in the world without physical money or documentation.  In all honesty it’s very exciting” Dansby replied.

“If it’s so exciting, why do you seem less than willing to hop on the band wagon” Jason asked.

“Because of the things that Charles had been saying about this technology.  He was adamant that it was somehow detrimental” Dansby replied.

“So junior’s words have been giving you a little indigestion and now you’re doubtful…is that it” Jason asked.

“Precisely” Dansby replied.

“So you want me to find your kid so you can…what…what do you think you’ll gain from it” Jason asked.

“I don’t know exactly.  I guess I just hope to be sure.  Maybe Charles can help me understand what’s really going on, or maybe he’ll just help me confirm what I fear to begin with” Dansby answered.

“And that would be” Jason asked.

“That he’s insane, that the emotional stress of the last three years simply robbed my son of his ability to grasp reality” Dansby answered as one of his men appeared at the door with a brief case and a pack of cigarettes.

Dansby took the items and turned back towards Jason.

“I don’t know your brand” the man said as he tossed the pack toward Jason.

Jason caught the cigarettes but kept his eyes trained on Dansby.

“I have a proposal for you Jason.  I have monetary security that you do not have.  What I desire is to have an emotional and mental security that only having my son back can give me.  I’m willing to trade a sizeable amount of my monetary security to obtain that goal” Dansby stated then opened the case.

Inside the case were stacks of one thousand dollar bills.  Jason felt his knees weaken.  He’d never seen so much cash in his life.

“This is only a down payment and cash for expenses, you understand” Dansby said as he took one of the bundles and tossed it toward Jason.

Jason caught the money and inspected it.

“In this case is a million US dollars. Find my son and bring him to me before the end of next month and you’ll receive ten times this amount in the new currency” Dansby said.

Jason regarded the man skeptically then tossed the bundle of cash back to him.  He tapped the pack of cigarettes on his palm before opening the box then placed one of the contents to his lips.  He lit the cigarette before taking a long draw from it.  He slowly let out the smoke out; blowing it towards the man in front of him.

“What’s to keep me from taking the cash and disappearing myself” Jason asked.

“In a month the only way you can use this money is to exchange it and take the mark yourself.  There won’t be a place on earth I won’t be able to track you at that point.  Please don’t mistake my etiquette for weakness Mr. Leach.  I didn’t get where I am in this world by being a man who takes disappointment well.  Let’s just say I believe you to be smart enough not to disappoint me.  In addition, I can see something in your eyes.  You’re looking for some purpose.  Deep inside you are itching to prove to the world you are still the best” Dansby replied.

“You’re full of crap, you know that right” Jason stated.

Dansby chuckled as he pulled a business card from his pocket and tossed it on the money along with the bundle Jason had tossed back to him.

“That may be true but you’ll take the job anyway.  Not only that, you will show the world that Jason Leach is more than a drunk with a three pack a day tobacco habit and one suit.  On the back of that card is an address where Charles was last seen, I’m sure you’ll know how to proceed from there” Dansby responded then turned to leave.

At the door the man turned back and gave Jason a look that rivaled the one he had given his men earlier.

“One month Jason, then we can all celebrate” he said then exited the room.

Jason watched the man stroll through the door then turned his attention to the suitcase on his bed.  An ominous foreboding feeling gripped at his spine but he brushed it aside.  Dansby had been more correct than he had known.  Jason had pleaded with any god that would listen for one more shot at turning his life around.  He had begged through drunken stupors every day for a chance to regain some semblance of self respect and purpose.

A cool mil in his back pocket was a bonus he had never dreamed to expect…   

Terror

By: “Timothy” Fred Parks

Wild eyed and panicked Toby Sheridan struggled against his bindings.  His breathing was labored due to the rag that was stuffed in his mouth then tapped over with thick duct tape.  His arms were bound behind him, his legs tapped to the legs of the little wooden chair he was sitting in.  He tried desperately to wiggle some portion of his body free but with every move he made a noose tied around his neck tighten a little more due to the rope that was tied intricately through the chair.

As tears streamed from his eyes he tried desperately to understand how he had found himself in such a predicament.  The walls that surrounded him had been so familiar and inviting these past five years now they seemed alien and terrifying.  Toby’s heart raced as the sound of familiar laughter echoed in his ears.

How could Sam be doing this to him? They were friends, buddies…partners.  Together they had spent countless hours here in this place, laughing and singing.  Here in this very room they had experienced things for the first time.  This had been where he had tasted alcohol for the first time, seen his first porn movie, and smoked his first joint.  Here on the floor of this dusty room he had lost his virginity to a local prostitute named Maggie.  That night had also been the first time he had tried Chrystal Meth.  This was the “fun house”.  Toby had done things in this house in the name of pleasure that he had never conceived of before he met Sam.

Sam had been great to him.  He always fronted him money when he was low, at least it seemed that way.  As Toby began to consider this he realized that more often than not it had been he who had paid for the booze, drugs or women.  Often times Toby hadn’t had the money for these things but Sam always had a scheme, an angle or some other means for Toby to come up with the cash.  The “fun house” had opened Toby up to world of armed robbery and assault.

Toby had sat in this chair night after night indulging in the pleasures that Sam devised.   Now he found himself the object of a new pleasure; this time for Sam’s entertainment.

The worst of it had been that he had allowed it to happen.  He had willingly come to the house, willingly sat in the chair.  He had laughingly offered his arms to be tapped behind his back.  He had felt the tension from the binds but hadn’t been able to stop himself.  He was marching happily into what ever snare Sam had created for him. He had enjoyed it.

Sam had never led him wrong before.  He had always been the master of new pleasures of new experiences.  Toby’s mind had been ablaze with delight in the first hour of his bondage.  Anticipation had tingled in every follicle.  Two hours in his awareness heightened even more as the memory of all the past pleasures raced through his mind. 

Then in the third hour he became thirsty.  He had never felt such thirst before.  It was almost all consuming.  He began grunting and wiggling in attempts to let his friend know that he was weary of this experiment and ready to be released.

Yet, Sam had only stared at him blank faced and immobile.

Panic gripped his spin causing every discomfort to be even more pronounced.  Toby began struggling as he became frantic. 

The next three hours drained the strength from his body.  He wanted to sleep.  He wanted to close his eyes and wake up with the knowledge this had just been a nightmare.  Hunger gnawed at his belly as the thirst became worse.  He wanted to cry out so badly, but he was bound too tight to free himself, too tight to free his mouth of the rag and the tape.

Toby looked into the eyes of his friend.  Sam looked back with evil intention as the room filled with laughter. 

“You are mine now.  Of your own free will, you are mine” Sam said manically with a sinister sneer plastered on his face.

What was he talking about? What did this man have in store for him now?  Would he keep him tied like this until he died of dehydration? 

Terror racked Toby’s body, filling him with the most sickening despair he’d ever experience, as his friend moved closer then leaned down to into his face.  A look of mock compassion rippled across Sam’s face.

“Oh don’t seem so sad Toby. We had a lot of fun here didn’t we?  Wasn’t I a gracious host?  Didn’t I provide for your every desire” Sam paused and his facial expression once again changed to a look of deadly mischief.

“Of course I did Toby.  Of course I did. More over my friend, do not forget that I did not force you to sit.  I never forced a single thing upon you.  I only facilitated the darkness in your heart.  I did not place it there.  You always had a choice.  You choose this for yourself Toby…do not forget that” Sam spoke with a soft feinted sympathy.

Toby looked into the face of death and knew it was true.  He had wanted this.  He had known right from wrong.  He had heard the still small voice in his heart pleading with him to resist but he had brushed it aside.  Life was for living and he had lived it the way he wanted.  Nevertheless, as he faced his death regret flooded his soul.  He didn’t want to die like this, naked…bound…alone.  If only he had just said no to Sam even once in the last five years…maybe…just maybe he would have avoided this somehow.

Suddenly a glimmer flashed before his eyes as Sam brandished a polished blade that reflected the small amount of light from the dimly lit room.  Pain seared his body as Sam began to carve the skin on his chest.  Blood trickled down his body and began to pool in the wooden chair.

This was it, he was going to be butchered by someone he had considered a friend.  If only he could somehow reason with him.  If only he could beg for his life.  Yet, the rag in his mouth kept his voice stuffed in the back of his throat.

For the wages of sin are death

Toby could hear the voice of his mother inside his soul whispering a truth he had never realized until now.  He had never seen his life as sinful.  How could this much fun be anything but good? After all he wasn’t hurting anyone was he?  He had never robbed anyone who didn’t have more than their share.  He’d never had sex with anyone who hadn’t given him plenty of indication they wanted it.  He’d never pushed his habits on anyone.  This was his life, he was god and master of his own existence.

No…

Sam had been…

He had given Sam permission to rule his life.  He had looked to Sam for guidance.  He had worshipped Sam, loved Sam…he had wanted everything Sam had offered.

Toby felt the blade going deeper into his chest.  His breath became wet as Blood filled his left lung.  He tried to cough but the rag in his mouth kept him from being able to expel the labored breath.  A bloody mist jetted from his nose and splattered Sam’s face.

Darkness surrounded Toby on all sides.  He could hear the sound of screeching demonic voices calling out to him from the shadows.  He was paralyzed with fear.  The knife pulled back from his flesh allowing more blood to flow down his body.  Toby felt the point of the knife once again as Sam slowly and methodically began pushing the blade into his flesh and through is organs.

Oh God please…

He screamed inside himself.  If only he had another chance.  If only he could turn back the clock and make things different.  If only he could choose another life for himself….

All these “what ifs” tormented him further.  He was dying.  No one would ever know or care the reason for it. His life was wasted on the pursuit of things that made his body feel good but had twisted his soul into a mangled, twisted, disease ridden blackness that was now going to completely consume him.

He was wounded for our transgressions, he was bruised for our iniquities

His mother’s voice once again asserted it’s self in his heart. 

What did it mean?  What was she trying to say to him?  Surely he was only hallucinating from the pain and the fear.  Nevertheless her voice continued to cut through his confusion.

The chastisement of our peace was upon him; and with his stripes we are healed

As Toby struggled to comprehend these words Sam grabbed the back on his head and pulled it back before plunging the knife hard into this stomach.  Toby’s eyes watered.  The muffled sound of a tormented scream came through the rag only slightly.

No! Please God just give him another chance…

His mother’s voice sounded again. 

Oh Lord God please give me another chance…just one more chance to understand…save me God please…just give me the chance to know the truth…to change…

This time the voice was his own as the thirst, hunger and pain of his soul built to a crescendo of need.  Toby’s strength gave out and his eyes slowly closed.  Darkness and silence over took him…

~~~~~~~~``

Toby felt a tight grasp on his right hand.  His eyes slowly opened.  The room was slightly dim and foreign.  His throat was dry and he felt as though he’d been asleep for a hundred years.  His eyes felt sore and puffy.

“Momma” he managed to said hoarsely

His mothers head slowly rose and her eyes met his.  Tears streaked her face.  She gripped his hand with strength he never knew the frail woman had.  It was then he noticed that he was lying in a hospital bed.  IV needles fed his veins with needed fluids and medications.

He struggled to remember what had happened but it was a blur.  He had been attacked by someone, hadn’t he…no…no that wasn’t it….

“Momma what happened” he squeaked.

“Shss, sweet heart. You are ok now.  You’ve been ill, very ill.  Your immune system was very weak from the disease and you contracted pneumonia.  But you’re back with me now Toby.  The Lord has given you another chance” his mother said as she hugged his arm to herself and cried.

It all came back in a rush.  Toby had contracted HIV from sharing needles or maybe it had come from one of his partners.  He never really knew, he hadn’t cared…up until now it hadn’t mattered.  He had simply known he was going to die due in part to the lifestyle he had chosen. Maybe it was for this reason he had decided to stay as high as he could as long as he could.  His body had just given out.

He hadn’t thought he cared to live until now.  Somehow a vague dream of a man named Sam had changed his mind.  Or was it a dream?  Could it have been something more?

Could it have been….

© 2009 all rights reserved

The wages of sin are death.  All of us will, in due season reap of what we have sown.  Payment must be made for our transgressions.  Either we will pay it ourselves or we will allow another to pay it for us.  There is but one who can and has paid this debt.  There is only one way, truth and life in this existence and His name is Jesus Christ. 

In this time of spooks, and terrors by night my worst fear is not in ghost, goblins and homicidal maniacs slashing scantily clad co-eds…its in the fact that many still have not made Jesus Christ their Savior.

That my friends, is the greatest terror of all…

God bless

Barack Obama is the new quarter back for the

....Washington.... Thinskins

By: “Timothy” Fred Parks

I’m been sitting back for a while and watching patiently the events of our once great nation.  Let me tell you why.  For two solid years leading up to the election I wrote almost daily concerning the state of affairs in the political world.  Not only that I tied them into biblical principals, I spoke on internet radio, both as a guest on others shows and as the host of two different shows of my own.  After the election I did run downs on the new cabinet members warning of their ideology as well as their history.

It hardly makes much sense to say “see I told you so” now does it.

This morning I’m biting my lip in writing this because a) I’m only highlighting the obvious and b) I’m only repeating the same things I’ve said so many times over the course of the previous years. 

Nevertheless, once more I shout in this wilderness.

So here it is plan and simple. 

Freedom of speech is dead.  Through PC bull pucky and thin skinned politicians the right of the people to hold their representatives accountable has been snatched from us like a deal seeker on black Friday. 

Now let me qualify my statement for those of you who would disagree.  I’m not saying that we don’t have the freedom to speak out.  If that were true you wouldn’t be reading this.  What is the truth however is that free speech no longer carries with it the power it was intended to have.

Our forefathers endued the first amendment with power they never had under English rule.  It was the very first thing they made available under what we call the bill of rights.  It gave a voice to those who had been voiceless and through the years it has conquered tyrannies in all its guises. 

Without the ability of the people to express their selves and hold their representatives accountable do you think that women would have the right to vote or a black man would have the right to attend any university he choices?  Absolutely not…

Now however we are facing an administration that isn’t interested in being accountable.  They are interested in only one thing and that is the legacy of the nations first “minority” president.  It is of utmost importance to several special interest groups that Obama’s reign be seen in history as immaculate and they will do anything necessary to ensure it.

Looking at the last year you’ll find that anyone attacking the presidents ideology and direction have been beset on all sides by the liberal media and when all else fails the big “R” (for racist) has been slapped on them like the scarlet letter.  Just look at what happened to Rush Limbaugh when he decided to get involved in purchasing an NFL team. 

This has been the one weapon the liberal agenda has never had to use before and it is why they were never able to seize the power they needed to push their idiotic agenda down the throats of the American people.  Now they have it. 

We aren’t going to debate this here.  Its not worth my time, nor yours.  I am not interested in a racial discussion because it not pertinent to this context.  The reason being is that its used only as a weapon.  The race card played from either side is nothing more than the lack of any real argument so lets put that to bed right here and now and instead recognize it for what it is.

Now the next step for this administration was to begin censoring the media.  You can argue this is if you like but when the president holds close door meetings with major media and excludes the highest rated cable news agency in the country then its censoring.  It’s been clear from the beginning that Obama hates Fox News. 

Fox is the only major media outlet who gives both sides of the argument and allows people to make up their own minds rather than having media sentiment stuffed up our noses.  It isn’t Fox’s fault that people reject the liberal argument when seen along side the alternate.  Liberal ideology shoots its self in the foot when confronted with fact therefore when seen in context it fails to impress people.  By rejecting this means of communications the Obama administration seeks to mold the opinion of the American people. 

Anything contrary to their talking points must obviously come from uninformed, uneducated, tyrannical, and or raciest people with the agenda of keeping him down. 

Remember all the Bush, “Hitler” comments all those years? Where are  these left wing talking heads now? Can they not recognize propaganda techniques when they see them?  Of course they can, they’ve studied them well and they are implementing them just like Hitler did in the thirties.  Being authorities on Hitler finally came in handy for them didn’t it.

Still there is more to this…more to how the power of freedom of speech has been leached away.  The truth is Obama is leading by example.  We can see it trickling down even into such trivialities as the National Football League (NFL).

This week as the Washington Redskins loose another game in inept play they have decided that fans would not be allowed to carry signs into the stadium.  The news broke because of a woman who was carrying a sign saying hello to her husband in ....Afghanistan.....  The officials told her it was their policy but had very little explanation.  The fact of the matter is, they are scared of the power of free speech.  They are afraid the fans have turned on them and don’t want any disparaging “words” bouncing around for people to see on TV.  How nice. 

Not only that they are forbidding the media from talking to tailgaters before the game.  Again the fear is laughable. Still, what should we expect with the example down the street in the big house?

It all comes down to something that I’ve written at least twenty articles about and that is accountability. 

Accountability is the teeth and the power behind the freedom of speech.  When it’s gone so too is the ability of the little guy to fight back.  I can scream it from the mountains and believe me I have, but unless those in power make themselves accountable, what good does it do to shout.

Right now we have a president who is waffling over whether or not to take the military advice from those on the ground to send in troops that will help to protect the men and women already in Afghanistan while he spends his time worried that Bill O’rielly is going to call him a pin head…and the rest of the world is following his lead.

President Obama sir, with all due respect….You sir, are King Pinhead, great pin head among pin heads.  Now that that’s out of the way would you please get off you butt and do something worthy of the history you are already trying to write for yourself, or would that be too much work for you? The country is watching and following your lead and you, like those you admire so much in ..Europe.., are marching us right over the cliff.

The words to an old Doors song keeps playing in my head today.  To me it symbolizes something horribly sad yet full of promise.

This is the end
Beautiful friend
This is the end
My only friend, the end

Of our elaborate plans, the end
Of everything that stands, the end
No safety or surprise, the end
I'll never look into your eyes...again

The sadness comes from the fact that the country we once knew and loved is dead.  This is the end. You can take that as cynical if you like but nevertheless it is true.

Now for the upside…

There is a chance for rebirth in all of this.  People seldom know what they have until it is gone or taken away.  They take for granted the fullness of life until they are faced with death.  From that sometimes we can rise from the ashes and even be stronger for it in the end.

....America.... is in a cycle that has lasted far longer than any other country in the world.  The rise and fall of this great land has a historic arc to it that will never be repeated by another earthly kingdom but we on at the end of the arc now.  It is up to us how we proceed. 

May the Lord bless us and lead us.

© 2009 all rights reserved

Star Wars: War and Peace

Episode One: Cycles

"I'm telling you ....Suriname...., something isn't right about this", Xiolos Malcolm said in frustration.

"I don't understand you Xiolos; you've always spoken of the peace the galaxy has enjoyed since the fall of the Empire.  Your own father over saw the dissolve of the Imperial armed forces, at the end of the Great War.  How could you be so opposed to the cutting back on the Republics military presence through out the galaxy.  Isn't this just the natural evolution of our society" Suriname Solo replied to her mentor.

A fragile peace had reigned throughout the galaxies for a hundred years since the defeat of the Emperor.  It had taken many years to rebuild  the worlds that had been war torn as a result of the great battle for freedom.  Despite the difficulty of the rebuilding process, it had proven far more difficult to rebuild trust and bringing the Republic back together had taken far longer.  Now, on the eve of the centennial anniversary of victory over tyranny an announcement to recall and dissolve the Republics peace keeping forces had ....Suriname....'s professor up in arms.

Xiolos Malcolm was the professor of “galactic political advancement” as well as the universities oldest living historian.  Xiolos's father had been a member of the Rebel Army and friends with ....Suriname....'s grand father Han.  ....Suriname.... had known Xiolos for many years as the man would stay with her family many times while on sabbatical from the university or while traveling about the different star systems doing field work for his classes or giving lectures on something he referred to as the "Loop Theory".

Loop Theory, Xiolos explained was his way of predicting future events.  Xiolos had become so accurate in his depiction of future events that many considered him to be an untrained Jedi rather than a scholar.  As a result he was both sought out and feared.

"Peace is a fragile thing.  It's much harder to predict than war.  It's much harder to preserve. Sometimes peace it's self can lead to the most savage of wars" Xiolos explained.

"That doesn't even make sense.  How could peace start a war? Isn't peace the after effect of war? You know, the result of wars ending. That's why we don't need the armies now.  We've learned our lesson from the last war" ....Suriname.... replied.

"It's not that simple Young Solo.  The truth is, the galaxy has always had these cycles of peace and war.  The war of your grand father's fame came at the end of one of these cycles and I fear we are coming to the end of yet another.  The galaxy has become board and listless.  Our societies are filled with those of the short attention span and no respect for history.  They simply believe that tomorrow will be the same as today which is the same as it was yesterday.  For them it may be true to a certain point.  There are few who remain to testify of the horrors of forgetting where we came from and mind full of where we are going" Xiolos explained.

"You're getting paranoid in your old age I think" ....Suriname.... laughed.

"I hope you are right my friend.  Nevertheless I have other things to do today and you, I believe have a lecture on warp drive theory that you are five minutes late for" Xiolos said.

"Ah, I hate that class.  It's taught by a droid.  It's boring.  I'm tired of theory.  Every class I'm taking this semester is the theory of something.  I want to do something, instead of theorizing about it.  Travel the galaxy, see new things..." ....Suriname.... said.

"Young lady I do believe what you are looking for is trouble" Xiolos said with a grandfatherly smile on his face.

"You said that, not me" ....Suriname.... replied with a chuckle of her own.

"Well, if you miss another lecture...trouble will find you.  Get going or I'll call your mother and let her know you've been hanging out around that boy again" Xiolos said with a wink.

"What boy" ....Suriname.... said as she batted her eyelashes.

"Get going Suri, seriously I have other things to do" Xiolos said then walked the young woman to the door.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

The skies were dark.  This was the dark season on the planet Uni of the Blevins system. Days were counted in seasons rather than hours due to its slow rotation.  The ....University.. of ..Uni.... was located here because of its central location.  Unfortunately its location also made it a favorite space port, as a result many seedy clubs and bars had begun popping up during the "dark season".  One such place was called "Across the Universe" or the "Ace Lounge" as it was nicknamed by some of the university students.  The bar got its moniker due to being the hang out for many of the galaxy premier star racers.  Many students would come here looking to compete in illegal racing.

Xiolos stood at the entrance and wondered if he wasn't making a horrible mistake.  Still, he was out of options.  He had tried to go to the Senate with his concerns but his voice had fallen on deaf ears.  He had to take matters into his own hands now.

He stepped through the door and looked for his contact.  Spotting him at the bar, Xiolos cautiously stepped up next to him.

"You've got nerve old man, I'll give you that" the man spoke with a voice that sounded like the crushing of gravel.

"Coming from you I'll take that as a compliment" Xiolos said then motioned to the barkeep to bring him a drink.

The man waved off the bar tender before he could come closer then slid an ominous looking drink over to Xiolos.

"If you're thirsty, try this" the man said.

Xiolos eyed the drink with suspicion.

"No thank you, I never touch the stuff" Xiolos replied as he pushed the drink back toward the man.

"Don't waste my time old fool.  Drink it or I'm gone.  I don't have the patience to deal with cowardly old men" the man said and pushed the drink back.

Xiolos picked up the glass.

"What is it" Xiolos asked.

"Insurance" the man replied.

Xiolos thought about setting the glass down and leaving but he felt he was already in too deep to stop now.  He threw back the drink and swallowed as quickly as possible as the oily tasting liquid bit at his mouth and throat.

"There, that's better" the man said and slapped Xiolos on the back causing him to cough.

"Come on, now we talk business" the man said and led Xiolos to a corner table.

Xiolos sat down.  His throat and mouth felt like they were on fire but the rest of his body felt very relaxed and at ease.  The room seemed bright despite the lighting being dim.  Paintings on the walls seemed to move fluidly giving him the feeling of liquid stupidity.

"Are you sure you can do this cleanly? That is, are you confident in your abilities" Xiolos asked as his eyes bounced in his head.

"Of course.  Why else would I be here?  The only problem is that of my fee" the man said with a growl that sounded like a lion purring.

"The fee has already been negotiated.  This is a point in which we will not be discussing further.  I will not be strong armed" Xiolos said.

"That is too bad" the man replied.

"There are those who have offered me more for a different job" the man said with an evil grin.

As the two men spoke a group of rowdy racers entered the bar through a back entrance.  Xiolos' turned his head to at the sound of the ruckus.

"You cheated.  I won't pay" one of the men shouted.

"If you don't pay up, you'll be banned from further competitions" another man replied.

"I don't care! I don't care.  Every week that guy pulls off some sort of maneuver no one has ever seen before.  I know he's using some sort of Jedi trick or something and I'm not going to be ripped off" the man shouted.

"The Jedi are extinct.  Skywalker was the last and he had no children.  You're just bitter because you were beaten by a better pilot.  Now pay up and get out" the other man said.

The angry man stood up and pushed past the man he had been arguing with to stand toe to toe with a much shorter person wearing a helmet that covered the face.

"One of these days I'm going to catch you somewhere out side this planet system and when I do, we'll see how well you do in a real contest" the man said then took some money from his shirt pocket and dropped it on the floor before stepping past and exiting the bar. 

The other man bent and picked up the money then handed the helmet clad pilot a cut of it.

Xiolos turned back to the man at the table and felt a burning sensation in his chest.  Blood began pouring down his chest. A long thing blade was pulled back by a reptilian hand.  The man in front of him changed color and blended in to the surroundings like a chameleon.

"Who are you and what have you done with..." Xiolos managed to speak before falling face forward on the table.

"You should have paid the money old man.  I work for the highest bidder and he offered much more for your head than you did for his" the man said as he stood and made his way through the bar; still camouflaged.

The helmet clad pilot walked through the bar and felt a bump from something large though there seemed to be no one there.  The bump however caused the pilot to stumble against Xiolos.

"Excuse me" a deep altered voice emitted from the helmet.

Xiolos didn't move or respond.  The pilot looked down intently then removed the helmet.

"Xiolos" Suriname exclaimed as she recognized the man.

Team Bête Noire

By: “Timothy” Fred Parks

Chapter 4: Old Friends and Old Habits Die Hard

The city was mostly quite.  The only sounds were of a few sirens in the distance.  The city was hardly ever this quite.  Craig figured the time must be somewhere between 2:30 and 3:00 in the morning.  It was when things often went “bump”, the time when the worst of the human condition loved to roam; looking for the unwary.

This was the time Craig once loved to walk the streets the most when he was coming up in the police force.  Most considered the second shift to be the most exciting time to work because of how much work there was to do.  There was always a bar fight, domestic dispute or accident to work during the hours of 2pm and midnight. 

But that was just busy work, fodder for the rooky and those with trouble being self motivated…but the graveyard shift…that was for the big boys…

Craig’s eyes searched out the shadows as he walked.  The hair on the back of his neck stood on end with the electricity and invigoration of a long lost love; the hunt.  This was the time of night he had always been most effective with his…gifts.  In fact some of the more seasoned of the force called him “the Falcon” because of his predatory mindset when out on patrol and later after becoming detective because of his nose for always finding the smallest of details.

Those old instincts were being aroused for the first time in many months.   Something in the city was not right.  Something about the old couple nagged at him but the answer hid its self just out of reach of his comprehension.

“Not my problem” he suddenly said to himself as if arguing with his own conscience.

He turned the corner and realized he was near an old haunt of his: “The Dust Devil”.  He knew the place would be open for drinks even if they were a bit watered down.  He didn’t want to go home and for some reason he just wanted to sit down for a few minutes, have a drink and try to clear his head of the insanity he’d witnessed in the last few hours.

Craig found the place nestled below street level.  The place reminded him of the old television show “Cheers” and he half expected the patrons to all shout “Craig” when he walked in.  He stepped through the door to far less fan fair.  The room was dimly lit and only a few people sat at tables in the darkest parts of the bar.  It was the hour of shadows and those out during this time always took great pains in hiding their faces. Craig ambled over to the bar and sat down.

“Well, well, well…look what the cat has drug in” a man behind the bar said with a smile on his face.

The man behind the bar wore a dusty old straw cowboy hat and a set of round shades.  The smirk on his face was familiar and aroused a familiar disdain in the pit of Craig’s stomach.

“Look who’s talking.  You look like a reject from Natural Born Killers” Craig responded curtly.

The man only laughed.  Craig returned a smile as the two extended their hands to greet one another.

“How have you been brother?  I haven’t seen you since Jess…well I haven’t seen you around in a while” the man said.

“I’ve been around David, I just prefer my drinks with less water” Craig responded.

“Ouch, don’t say that so loud.  Some of these cats in here aren’t so understanding of the current economic times” David said with a wink then turned and took a bottle from the shelf and poured two shots.

“Have a snort of that Craig, tell me if it’s watered down” David said as he held up one of the glasses for Craig to take.

The two men knocked back the shots…

Craig emitted a low moaning cough as his eyes began to water.  He slapped the glass down and pounded the bar with his left hand before looking up at David who giving that infuriating mischievous grin once again.

“Replace water with turpentine” Craig coughed out.

“Kerosene but that was a good guess” David replied.

“You’re going to cause someone to go blind with that bathtub gin, you know that right” Craig grumbled.

“You want another one, don’t you” David replied.

Craig rolled his eyes and offered up his shot glass to be refilled.  The two men threw back the alcohol once again then slapped the glass down. 

“One more” David asked.

“Just give me a beer man, I’m not sure my liver can take any more abuse tonight” Craig replied.

David chuckled and walked back down the bar and retrieved a bottle of Samuel Adams.  Craig took the bottle then pulled his wallet from his back pocket.  As he opened it he realized he was down to his last twenty dollars.

“On the house tonight brother, me casa es su casa” David said.

“Since when” Craig asked.

“Don’t look a gift giraffe in the mouth boy-o, lets just say I was hoping you’d pop in and leave it at that” David answered.

Craig opened the bottle and took a long swig attempting to run the acrid flavor of David’s homemade liquor from his pallet…it didn’t help much.  After a few moments of uncomfortable silence, David finally spoke.

“What did you think of the facilities” David asked.

“What facilities” Craig responded.

“You know…the house that Marvin built” David continued.

“David it’s been a very long night and I think you’ve had one too many shots of that horse swill you call alcohol.  I’ll see you around man” Craig said and stood up.

“Wait a second Craig. Sit down.  I need to talk to you, it’s important” David replied with a serious tone.

“Not tonight David.  I appreciate the beer but I’m not that cheep of a date” Craig responded and turned.

“Aren’t you interested at all” David asked.

Craig stopped then and slowly turned around.

“Just give me a few moments to close up, and then we can talk ok.  Five, ten minutes tops.  You don’t like what I have to say then I’ll never bring it up again…ok” David said.

Craig grudgingly walked back to the bar and sat down.  David smiled then set about running the other’s from the building.  After he had closed and locked the door he returned and sat down on a bar stool next to Craig; leaving one empty stool between them.  It was always David’s habit to leave an arms length between himself an others, a trait he picked up long ago.

“What the fridge is this all about” Craig asked abruptly before, David could speak

“Redemption, well no maybe more like revenge if you’d rather” David responded.

“Out with it man, I’ve had a rough day and it hasn’t gotten any better since coming in here.  If you want to play Confucius, get a tent and join the circus, if you want any more of my attention, you better start spilling the beans” Craig said with agitation.

“Dude you should really switch to decaf ok” David replied.

“Look, I know they showed you the place.  You wouldn’t be here right now if they didn’t” David said.

David rubbed his eyes and sighed.

“Let me guess you turned them down… right” David continued.

“So you are one of them” Craig replied.

“Yeah, that’s right and I thought you’d jump at the chance to get involved to.  I was the one who suggested they consider you.  I don’t think you realize how big of a deal it was for them to let you in the door.  They’ve been scrutinizing you for over a year.  Frankly your behavior lately has been making me look pretty bad” David answered.

“Why don’t you mind your own business David” Craig responded.

“Because we’re friends and you’ve been down on your luck.  You think you’ve been hiding in the bottom of that bottle because of Jessica but I’m going to let you in on a little secret buddy.  You’re in that bottle because you aren’t fulfilled anymore.  When you were working homicide you were the best in the game.  It’s what separated you from the rest of the drunks on the planet.  When you gave up on your talents you became just another statistic…another lonely soul looking for satisfaction in a world you were never meant to be a part of.  Wake up man.  Break the bottle and use the talents you were given” David said.

“You’re one to talk.  You were the best bounty hunter in the country then you gave it all up to buy…a bar of all things.  Don’t be so sanctimonious with me bub I’m not in the mood” Craig replied.

“Yeah, your right Craig…I did give it up for a while.  You see one too many blood stains, too many crying children…too many battered women and it does something to you but I’m telling you Craig, no matter how hard I tried to walk away…I just couldn’t sleep at night…couldn’t think straight…I crawled in one of those bottles.  Heck, why do you think I bought this place.  Free booze man” David smiled.

“I guess I’m supposed to pat you on the back and say atta boy now right” Craig replied.

“Cut the Dennis Leary shtick with me man.  I can see your working this all out in you head.  You probably have most of it figured out already.  You’re just too stubborn to care” David said.

“You’re wrong David.  She was my muse.  My talent came from her.  Without her I don’t even care about being fulfilled, nor can I be.  I appreciate your concern but I have no interest in your little cult” Craig replied.

“At least sleep on it.  Did you get to talk to Marvin yet” David replied.

“So Colleen isn’t the leader” Craig replied.

“See that, see your already starting to ask questions.  I thought you didn’t care” David chuckled.

“Whatever” Craig said and stood up to leave

“No, she’s not the leader.  She just wears the jacket sometimes.  In fact our little group is pretty good about handing over responsibilities sometimes.  It’s what makes it work so well.  We work together but we can all take prompts when we need to.  Marvin is the director, he’s the one who organizes the team” David said.

“Aren’t you a little old to be playing spy games David.  Honestly I feel like Rod Serling is going to start doing some voice over right about now.  I’ve had enough, I’m leav…” Craig broke off from speaking at the sound of the front door opening.

“Holy jumped up spark plugs and spam…I swear I locked that door” David said as two shadowy characters entered the bar.

“Sorry but we’re closed.  I know this because of the sign on the door that reads closed” David said sarcastically.

“Even for me” a woman’s voice spoke.

Craig recognized the voice.  It was Colleen’s.

“Especially for you and your toady.  Turn around and get out” David shouted.

“I thought you were big buddies” Craig said under his breath.

“That’s not who you think it is Craig.  We need to get out of here and quick” David said as he stood and began backing up slowly.

Craig began to chuckle.

“Now I know this is just a prank.  Dude you’ve gone to a lot of trouble to set this up” Craig said.

“Shut up worm” a man’s voice came from the shadow.

The man stepped into the light holding a coiled whip in each hand.  Craig recognized the man as Tyler M.  Craig’s guns were out and pointed toward the two intruders in a blink of an eye.

“You didn’t say please” Craig replied.

Suddenly the coiled whips flipped and ....Tyler.... began to snap them around like a ticked off octopus.

“Craig that’s not Tyler M, that’s Tyler B” David said as he grabbed Craig and pulled him back away from the snapping whips.

“And I suppose that’s Colleen B as well.  Kind of a comedy of errors  thing you got going on here right” Craig said sarcastically.

“More like Predator, man …come on” David said as a little panic began to rise up in his words.

“This is a ride I’m not interested in riding right now David, get me off this crazy thing and point me to the door” Craig replied with a chuckle still not believing what he was experiencing.

-bang-

A gun shot rang out and shook Craig from his whimsy and slammed him into the reality of what was happening.  David fell behind him.

“Going so soon gentleman, the night is young” Colleen B said with ominous tone.

Craig hesitated in the confusion and felt the sting of a whip crack across his left arm and  right cheek.  Tyler B disappeared into the shadows and continued to crack the whip all around Craig from different angles in attempt to confuse and keep him frozen.

“We have much to discuss you and me” Colleen said as she stepped out of the shadows.

The woman looked exactly like Colleen M but had one dead eye and a scar that went from her forehead to her cheek.

“Hold on a second I can’t concentrate with all this crap” Craig said and fired a shot into the darkness.

“Ahhhhhh” Tyler B screamed out and ceased from cracking the whip.

“There, that’s better.  Now what were you saying” Craig said as he kept the gun on Colleen.

“Impressive, I see why my sister was so keen to have you” Colleen said and leered at Craig with a look as if he was a chocolate covered Sunday.

“Yeah, I’m in high demand these days.  Take a number and I’ll get back with you in about three hundred years” Craig replied.

“Your wit and charm are dull, it’s a good thing your so handsome” Colleen replied.

“So you’re blind in one eye and can’t see out of the other I guess” Craig said “Look this has been real and it’s been fun but it ain’t been real fun so if you please let yourself out. My buddy here has slipped on a banana peel and I need to get him some help” Craig answered back

“I could kill you now” Colleen said as she raised her gun.

“I’ve heard that song before, you don’t sing it any differently than any other two bit thugs I’ve ever met Miss Cyclops.  Collect you trash and get out” he replied as the two stood facing one another in a Mexican stand off.

“You’ve made a very costly mistake Falcon…one you’ll never live to regret” Colleen said and began to slowly drift into the shadows.

“I got it, I’ll rue the day,  you’ll get me and my little dog too…I know all the lines sister” Craig replied.

Craig watched the shadows and could make out two figures moving back through the door.  One walked while the other dragged its self as if one leg was incapacitated.

“Hmm, aim’s a little off” he said to himself as he holstered his gun and bent to tend to his friend.

David stirred then sat bolt up right startling Craig.  Craig grabbed the man’s shirt and pulled it open revealing a Kevlar vest underneath.

“Wimp” Craig said.

“Alive wimp” David said through gritted teeth.

“Interested now” David continued.

“Mildly” Craig responded

Obama has the Colic; but Gives Me the Gas

By: “Timothy” Fred Parks

I’m sure everyone noticed the look on Obama’s face at the shout of “Liar” from the gallery.  Looks like he has a bit of colic doesn’t he and its no wonder considering how babied and coddled he’s been for the last few years.  How dare someone interrupt him while he’s proselytizing...oops I mean lying…oh I’m sorry I meant while he was spreading propaganda.

Then again who are we to question him or his policies? Obviously we sheople are in no need of explanation nor should we have an opinion concerning how he moves our country forward.  After all he doesn’t work for us, he was elected to rule us…right?

This has been the common attitude of the Democratic Party for years now, which is to say the American people are too stupid to know what we need so we should just stop the fuss and let them go about their jobs.  This is a country of the politician, by the politician and for the furthering of the career of the politician. 

The American people are just fodder.

When Papa Smurf… uh I mean Barack Hussein Obama stands before a “pulpit” his words have all the clarity of someone saying “I know you are but what am I” with a little hint of “because I said so”.  He assures the American people the policies he proposes for our country are just the shot in the arm we need…but how Barack.

“Hello My name is Brak Obama and I’m gonna sing you a little song. Reform reform reform I love reform.  Take what’s broken and break it more.  Reform is an excellent form of protein I… love… beans dippy do”

That’s about the gist of what we got the other night.  Ok, so granted it was presented a little more charismatically than that but the content had no more substance.  He simply repeated our concerns then said “that’s not what this bill is about”.  He belittled the concerns and the forethought of the American people without presenting any facts, without giving us anything to truly alleviate our fears.  He simply said “don’t worry about it…I got this”.

He’s not lying to say his bill isn’t blatantly written to give health care to aliens or to support abortions or to kill the elderly but he absolutely has not dealt with the holes in the programs that could be and will be exploited to lead that direction. 

I keep hearing pundits screaming that we need universal health care.  Somebody explain to me how this is going to solve the problems we have in the health care system.  Issuance is what has made health care so ungodly expensive to begin with.  Do you not think that a state run system has the potential to make that exponentially worse?  If you don’t go get a tack hammer and hit yourself on the forehead until you wake up.

Now raise your hand if you’re surprised by what we have in leadership right now….

If you have you hand up then you might need to borrow that tack hammer from the guy next to you because you’ve been sleepwalking the last three years.

Obama is nothing more and nothing less than exactly what he was billed as; a far left talking head.

Is he a socialist? Well if it looks like a socialist, acts like a socialist, talks like a socialist then by golly gee whiz that sucker is a socialist.  Don’t see it?  Two words for you; General Motors. 

But what does that matter right?  He’s still the Obamassiah.  Why would we ever question his direction?

Fact of the matter is folks, those who loved him from the beginning are still going to publically kiss his well shined dairy air even though they know they really messed up by electing this joker.  Why?  Because the need to not be wrong has always over ruled good sense.

Obama is a Mickey Mouse president with a Mickey Mouse congress that will spend the next four years messaging the works of Carl Marx into the minds of our young people while demonizing anyone who dares oppose his policies.

This is why I wept the night of the election.  This is why I’ve been mostly silent with political writings.  I screamed for two solid years, so did others…some much more aggressively than myself.  In the end the American people didn’t care. 

Why?

Because much of our populace have become colicky, whining, screaming, crying, infants who want nothing more than to have a sugar tit shoved in their mouths and expecting someone to wipe their rears for them.  It makes me sick to my stomach.  So far the only way I could possibly give respect to our new administration is with a twenty one flatulent salute.  I know that soundscrude but the truth is sometimes that’s what it takes to get someone to pay attention.

Mr. Obama may have a little colic because of the opposition to his policies but he’s giving me the intestinal distress.

© 2009 all rights reserved

September 11^th: Hanging up on the wake up call

By: “Timothy” Fred Parks

Last year marked the seventh year anniversary of one of the darkest days in the history of our country.  As I wrote last year, seven is the number of completion and it seems that our country has begun turning the page.  In the days leading up to the eighth year anniversary the silence has been deafening.  There have been a few sparse reflections here and there.  The NFL honored families who lost loved ones on flight 93 last night in the season opener of the football season but even that seemed more like an asterisk to me,  a sort of a “hey lets remember for a second but hey how bout them Steelers”.

I guess I can’t expect everyone to keep the memories of that day so avid in their minds.  Even if it was such a terribly traumatic day that much of the country dropped to their knees and prayed even when they didn’t believe in prayer.  That doesn’t mean I’m ok with it.

As I stated last year at this time, eight is the number of new beginnings and we have that now.  A new beginning…

The cycle has closed the loop and we are beginning again.  The wake up call has been hung up. Really it was hung up a year ago. 

On this day of infamy eight years ago our attention was wrenched away from a marching ant lifestyle of “get to give to get” mentality in which we worked to live and lived to work.  For a few days we were shaken from our robotic lifestyles and remembered what it meant to be human.  We cried, we prayed, we comforted…our spirits rose, as it were from the cloud of smoke, from the fire, from the steel and broken glass, and from the rubble that left three thousand of our fellow humans dead.

We’ve spent a lot of time over the years pointing fingers of blame.  We’ve fought wars and lest we forget…we are still fighting wars as a result of that day.  From the after math political vultures have emerged to capitalize on the pain, anger, frustration, and fear of the people.  This is what became of the legacy of that terrible day; compounding the utter horror of it.

September 11^th 2001 happened because we were a sleeping giant.  We were lulled to sleep by prosperity and by the droning political pied piper voice of a government that had become far too big, too fat, too apathetic and far far too arrogant.  We were the champion, the protector who laid down under a tree to nap.

Now we are posed to do it all again…

Once again the pied piper “because I said so” droning hypnotic voice echoes from the white house, and from capital hill.  Once again the people have found trenches of apathy and self serving mentality to bury our heads in.  The results will not be any different.

I would have loved to write a different kind of memorial today.  I would have loved to have joined my fellow Americans in a moment of silence for those lost and in a triumphant shout for the victory gained in their honor.  Instead I feel that I should remind everyone of the bump in the night.

With all the fingers being pointed around at who and what is responsible for the tragedy of 9/11, shouldn’t we take a good hard look in the mirror today?  Yes it was the evil men who flew the planes that killed so many of our fellow human beings, yes it was the dark destructive malice of the heart of those who would rather kill than create that are to blame for the acts but it has been our inability to call evil what it is that has propagated and facilitated their plans.  We are in very real danger of this happening again.

Not only has our country forgotten the tenacity of terrorism but so has the rest of the world.  The release of the Lockerby terrorist in the last few weeks has proven this.   The terrorist of the world have done what they needed to do to win the war though they’ve lost most every other battle…they have out lasted our resolve.  Quietly they continue to plot, quietly they continue to prepare…while we spend out time reconstructing our government to become even bigger, even fatter, even more apathetic and even more arrogant.

The phone is ringing today America, do we let the answering machine in Washington answer it or do we take responsibility for our lives and pick up the phone.  Today as we remember, let’s remember it all.  Let’s talk about those who were lost and those who died to make sure we didn’t lose more in the same way but let’s also remember that the fight has only just begun. 

There is a major difference between ..Pearl Harbor.. and 9/11.  ..Pearl Harbor.. was a military operation carried out against a military location, with a military target.  At the end of WWII when ....Japan.... surrendered, the threat had been neutralized.  September 11^th 2001 was a terrorist operation carried out against unarmed, untrained civilians, in a civilian location and targeted the heart of our way of life.  There is no organized military to fight against where the rules of engagement are clearly defined.  There is no battle field to take the confrontation to.  This is a war fought in the alleyways, back rooms, in our own back yards, in our neighbor’s back yards all across the world.  The weapons are IED’s, plastic knives, and terror. 

Am I saying we should be paranoid…heaven forbid but a little more diligences is called for.

Some will say I’m an alarmist and completely out of line.  The truth is, I pray that I am completely wrong.  I guess only time will tell.  Nevertheless these words have been playing in my mind for over a month now:

Those who forget the past are doomed to repeat it.

© 2009 all rights reserved