Still Figurin' Out Who I Think I Am

This one's about evil, repetitive themes, and scary stuff.

"Halloween Controversy - Many Christian churches encourage their congregations to boycott Halloween Celebrations. What is your opinion...is Halloween pure evil?"

'Sup y'all? Some good prompts today, so I'm gonna get right into them while I'm still feeling like it. Besides, I've got stuff to do later on and I can't be spendin' all night on this.

Good christ. Before I get into my spiel, at least this prompt came with a background novella link: Halloween- Harmless Or Harmful Fun?  . I applaud this move, PandaPaws Licensed VetTech , and I'm apologizing right now if any of my opinions contained within this entry offend you.

That's not to say I read the whole article...because I didn't. Did you see how long it was??   I mean, I know I put you guys through some serious endurance tests sometimes, but at least they're kinda sorta fun once in awhile. You know what's not fun? History. Or religion. Or the history of religion. I'm sure the person who wrote it is crazy passionate about the subject matter in the piece, and I commend the author for his or her thorough rendering on the topic (I say "his or her" because I tried to Google search Navida Sayed and not a damn thing came up that connected to a person ...but a stupid cat meme   only computer nerds will understand did come up ).

Instead of relying on an informed opinion, I'm just gonna hop in my shopping cart and ride this one down to the bottom of the hill with no brakes. Christian churches whipping their dicks out on matters like this, claiming it's a higher authority, are ruining all religions for everybody. They are why no one can have nice things. They are why parish populations are on the decline, and they're why notoriously Catholic cities like Buffalo and Boston have a closed church on every other block. Wars all throughout humanity have been created, in part, because Christianity isn't happy with itself until it has killed and devoured your non-Jesus-flavored soul. It focuses on all the can'ts and don'ts, instead of the dos and thys.

So the good, honorable Reverend Joe Jimbob Twobyfour says you should give his church more money to build bigger pews, or God's gonna cancel Halloween...better yet, save Him the trouble and show Him how committed you are, and cancel it yourselves (but don't forget to write me that check )! Meanwhile, Little Susie Christian can't join her homies in their Trick-Or-Treat games because her folks said God said it was wrong...and then Little Susie Christian gets picked on by her friends because she can never have any fun, resents her parents the rest of her adolescence, and grows up to become Li'l Suzie Stripper, addicted to fast cars and faster meth (just a dramatization, people...no families or strippers were harmed in the genesis of this entry, I promise thee).

Why do churches always need to lash out and protest and decry stuff? Where's the love and acceptance for all of humanity? Where's the fucking compassion?! Like, every other week some holy group is boycottin' somethin' or another. Does it show up on the flyers the ushers hand out after each mass? "Peace be with you, and here's your schedule for this week's upcoming outward displays of how much we hate everything not contained in our blessed four walls under the steeple. Praise Jebus!" It's...annoying. No, it's not even annoying anymore, because it's so much more seemingly commonplace now with the internet and all. It's tiresome.

We get it. Your light is the one true light and way. And so is his. And hers. And that guy over there's. And that state's board of education, and your doctor's, and so on and so on. And if you deviate from their mission, you're the evil one. Not the slovenly biker guy with the beer belly and the "God H8s Fags" sign, or the priest molesting altar boys in the church basement, or the televangelist busted with hookers 'n blow while his wife's cashin' your tithe checks in for her third new nose this decade. Eat meat on a Friday and surely Satan himself will take you to Hell...but pay no attention to the man you confess your sins to  . It's very hard to take this stuff seriously anymore when everything about it is contrived and shrouded in controversies that keep feasting upon itself.

No. Halloween is not pure evil. Pure evil is what you get when you ask someone to define why exactly something so seemingly innocent shouldn't be considered as such, and getting a run-of-the-mill bible verse spat back at you ad nauseam because that's the way it's always been ya filthy sinner. Asking a simple question and feeling like you need a shower of vicar's sweat to cleanse your moral code for even thinking differently, or receiving an answer that's so winded and based in historical rhetoric from a time when...well, you get the point. It's not evil. Let your kids do it. It's normal now. There's nothing wrong with it. Kids are pretending to be their favorite cartoons and movie stars and shit...you're gonna get in an uproar about that, but not at politicians pretending to be civic leaders or bankers pretending to be God with our retirement funds or, gasp holy peoples pretending to be men/women of the word but hating on everyone who isn't just like them? Please. Get a grip. Get your priorities right. There are bigger things to worry about than the hows and whys of each specific religion's "most important day of the year" (and I'm sure if you Googled hard enough, you could come up with a Top Ten list of reasons why each one is sinful and rotten and rooted in the dark underworld hundreds of centuries ago).

[Afterword: I once owned one of these Winston matchbooks  , and for years it hung on a corkboard near my writing area at wherever I was...it sums up accurately how I feel about your thoughts on my religious preferences.]

"Is there an image, a storyline, or a scene that keeps coming up and persisting in your writing? Do you know why? Do you put it there knowingly or does it show up on its own, unannounced?"

Ya know, this thought only hits me whenever I decide to revisit past works. Like when I start anthologizing whole collections (which reminds me...I need to get back into that and at least finish up "Ribmeat Of The Family Tree"  one of these days) for digital storage here at WDC.

If there's ever been a recurring theme of any kind in my poetry, for the most part it's been coincidental. It's not like I've woken up every morning and decided that I'm gonna enter "Give It 100!"  so I can bust out a slew of poems regarding heartbreak, sadness, a combination of the two, or banana sandwiches. And yeah, sometimes I'll get into little ruts (I guess you can call 'em that) where I might linger a little on a particular subject for awhile (especially if it's been weighing on my mind)...I think we're all guilty of that to some degree if we've taken to writing as a form of expression for any length of time.

But me, personally? Whether I've succeeded in this or not, one thing I've always, always strove hard for is not repeating myself. In poetry, or in blog entries. If I like a certain band, but all their albums pretty much sound the same, as a listener I'll get bored quickly no matter how unique or easily identifiable (think Rage Against The Machine) it is. It seems impossible that this happens often in literature, being that there's all sortsa words and combinations of them possible, as opposed to what a guitar/bass/drum combo can create, but I'm sure it happens often enough even though I'm dry right now on specific examples.

Look at it this way: would Shakespeare be Shakespeare if all he did was rewrite the same sonnets over and over, just swapping out words for their synonyms, or lines with whole antonyms in their places? No...he'd just be some dude who did some really creative, out-there shit at first, and when he ran out of styles to give birth to or words to make up, he'd just dip into his back catalog and bite his own rhymes. And when his fans caught on, he'd flame out and be flippin' burgers at the McDonald's on the Avon. That's how I see it. I don't wanna be "Remember Shakespeare?"...I wanna be seen as "Yo, can you believe what Shakespeare did next?".

[Afterword: Yes, I'm well aware how ridiculous that last sentence sounds, in the time/space continuum of tenses. And in no way am I trying to confuse myself with or insinuate that I am or ever could be compared to William Shakespeare, the band Shakespeare's Sister  , or your local Steak 'n Shake  . Gotta stay humble, yo.]

"Do you enjoy being scared, such as watching horror movies or reading scary books? Share with us one that really got to you."

Here's where I admit one of two things: I'm either pretty senseless and don't get that I'm supposed to be scared, or I really am some kind of heartless, emotionless savant whose sensitivity meter is broken beyond repair (I'm putting all my chips on the second choice, for what it's worth).

Like, ok...a few weeks ago I read my first Stephen King novel, Joyland  . I would've read it regardless of the author, because it caught my eye in the library and the blurb on the back seemed interesting enough...the fact that it's King and he's some kind of master of horror or whatever had less to do with this decision. The truth is that the genre as a whole just doesn't do much more me, and I understand that Joyland is more mystery/crime oriented than his, uhhhh, I dunno, scarier (if that's the right word) work, but I'm not gonna walk back his entire published output now because I dug his style in one paperback.

But back to the prompt itself...no, I don't find being scared by a book or a film enjoyable, because I don't really see the "scary" point of the plot. Like, I really don't wanna come off sounding like some hard-ass tough guy because I'm not, but nothing along those lines scares me. I can't get around the fact that it's a story, or a movie. I know that it's not actually happening. I know I can stop whatever's coming along next by closing the book or pausing or stopping the film. Even biographies or "based on a true story" features...it's either in the past, or it's being reenacted. There's a separation. I'm not watching an actual murder, or reading about something bent on destruction as it's creeping up behind me while I'm sitting in bed holding a book. I'm not wired to respond that way, I guess.

And that's not to say I lack imagination...oh, I've got imagination for days, y'all. Gotta trust me on that. I just don't know how else to explain it, nor do I feel it's something I really need to explain...it's how I am, I guess. Sure, snap a twig 30 yards behind me and I might jump, but I'm not fearin' for my life or anything, so why should someone else's description of it on a page or on the screen instill that true fear in me? It's not there. Maybe I was born without that capacity, or somethin'.

[Afterword: I guess I should stop throwin' around phrases like "all the feels", because clearly I'm lacking possession of a couple. Damn.]

** Image ID #2010042 Unavailable **

Cripes. Part of the reason I didn't start this entry earlier today is that I don't really have anymore songs on my proverbial list of tunes suitable for somethin' like "Resurrection Jukebox" . Can I suggest right now that next year we just do songs with...awww, snap, what was the idea I had about this earlier? I don't remember now. It was songs with...that...fuck. I knew I shoulda written it down when it hit me. Maybe it'll come back to me later. Who knows.

Anyway, enough stallin'. May as well just go with somethin' sorta easy, like The Beatles. Two dead guys there to choose from (John Lennon and George Harrison). I'll go with George here because I've probably linked more Lennon songs in this spot before, and the tie-ins today are so much better.

Billy Preston was an occasional collaborator with The Beatles (he played a fierce organ on perhaps my favorite Beatles tune, "Don't Let Me Down"...and boo on YouTube for only having crappy ghetto ass bootleg versions available for it right now...fix your copyrighted shit, YouTube ). And he covered George Harrison a couple times actually...including a soulful, almost gospel-sounding rendition of "All Things (Must) Pass"   which was actually released before Harrison's version because it was rejected by The Beatles for inclusion on the Let It Be album, and "My Sweet Lord".

"I really wanna see you Lord
but it takes so long, my lord."
Lyrics.  

[Afterword: Liking this song doesn't make me a hypocrite, does it? Even after my little episode in the first segment of this entry? ]

Stuff like this is why the internet is the thriving cesspool I love so much...there's this dude who's been trolling people on Facebook, hilariously posing as a customer service rep who handles complaints and inquiries, and now he's riffin' on Batman   and looking for work as a crimefighter by reaching out to police departments. If only there were more people like him, and less people hurting others under the shields of their religions, the world would be so much more tolerable.

Some of you may remember the little bitchfest I had going regarding the local library when I first moved out to Cortland (see: "This one's about the limit. Part 1."  and "This one's about the limit. Part 2." , for freshening up that hatred), but it's important to understand that it isn't always the people who work there that have drawn my ire. Sometimes, it's also the general public and all the different ways they conspire to piss me off   as well. The whole filthy lot of ya. [Afterword: And no, I'm freakin' perfect .]

I'm a, well, ok, I aspire to be a simple person. I like uncomplications. But...I also like smart things. Well thought out humor that is also properly executed. I don't mind having to work a little for an internal giggle. That said, anyone who can combine a basic mathematical context with a good joke, supplied on what appears to be a handwritten Post-It note, deserves the share here in my long little blog's collection of miscellany (which also means I recommend it and maybe you should check it out): Hilarious and accurate pictures of life.  

And finally, I'm gonna keep this short because Game One of the World Series is just about to start, which means I'm about to throw my feet up like I'm busy real quick...Rolling Stone magazine ran an oral history of "Let's Go Mets!"  , a stadium anthem written in conjunction with the '86 Mets shreddin' the National League on the way to the pennant that year. Required pregamin' for any Mets fan...and if you're not a Mets fan like ♥HOOves♥ and myself, you're just gonna have to suck it up and bear with us for the next week and a half or so. #LGM [Afterword: Seriously, I'm not apologizing for my love of the Mets. If you can read everything else I've written, you can put up with a few sentences every now and again about the national pastime. And this is the first time in my entire 14+ years at WDC that I can actually say the Mets are in the World Series!!]

Ok...that's all I have for today. Thanks for droppin' by; we'll be passin' around a hat down in the comments section because it's always better to give than to receive, and Jebus doesn't like greedy kids. Peace, Hare Krishna, and GOODNIGHT NOW!!