silence is ear-piercing screaming shrieks

Yesterday as I worked on photo editing, I was listening to NPR stories about Adam Toledo and some Deliverance-level jackass who shot up a FedEx facility in Indianapolis. I started crying and held my head in my hands at one point.

“If I were in Chicago, I would join the protests,” I told myself. I’m tired of all this bullshit of black people getting shot and then mass shootings of innocent people in supposedly safe environments taking their lives and freedoms away by force and mental illness.

And I say fuck those people who think destroying public property in retaliation for woman’s babies getting murdered left and right by the people we trust to protect us.

In North Carolina, I leave stuff out in my garage and in my yard. Two days ago, I left bags of mulch, pea rocks, a new mailbox and new mail post by the street for a few hours. “What if someone steals this stuff?” Tina asked.

“Well, I hope they needed it more than we do and I wish them the best,” I responded. And I meant it. Right now in my garage, there are so many items to walk away with; garden tools, a chain saw, a weed whacker, light sabers, car-care products, light stands, beers in the fridge, a backup propane tank filled to the brim. Okay, there are no beers in the fridge, but the rest is accurate.

If someone wanted to come take any of it, do it. It’s replaceable. I’m not saying I wouldn’t be angry for a second. Or disappointed. But hey, I’m inviting theft by leaving it out there.

But if you touched my wife or my dogs, that shit is off the table and I would go off my rocker. Life is not to be fucked with, man. What the hell do these cowards think when they pick up a gun and walk into a safe place and steal life? Murderers. These cops are assassinating women’s kids. Brothers and sisters. Aunts and Uncles.

I don’t so much as touch another person’s vehicle. And there are people who mistake a taser for a goddamn gun?

I saw the following social media update and it certainly felt like it reflected my views:

“One of the most frustrating things for me right now is that everyone I know who is vehemently pro-life has been completely silent about the recent murders. Silent. They wailed about Satan shoes, they cried about Dr. Seuss books they never read, they raised all sorts of noise for Trump to “save the children”, but they’re silent about murder.”

“This leads me to believe that their persecution and righteousness are imaginary … Because if they truly cared about life, they would at least say something, but they only seem to be interested in speaking when it brings them benefits – never at any cost to them.”

I included the ellipses above to represent a part where the original author wrote: “just like their god.” Which troubles me even to include it. But it certainly takes this little memetic share to a superfluously infuriating place.

I don’t personally accept that God doesn’t exist in the minds of believers. He does. It’s irrefutable.

Just because I hold the view that the idea of God being the author of the Bible or the Koran or any nature is untenable, does not make him obsolete. I think that’s an important distinction. I didn’t always think this way. It’s an evolution of my disbelief.

I’m not an atheist because I think God doesn’t exist. I don’t believe that that being did what the Bible says He did. All of it. No creation. No weird stories of destruction or lenience toward his followers. No virgin birth, carpentry, ministry, execution and return to life … I call myself an atheist strictly because I don’t think any of that stuff is impressive or possible.

I don’t know what that makes me. Is the moniker atheist accurate? Or agnostic?

Regardless, I heard with my own ears people supporting Donald Trump because he opposes abortion and that’s all they need to hear to overlook his gaping holes of idiocy and immoralities.

But the party and people who support common sense gun ownership, they’re from the devil.

My parents let Tina and I mooch off of their Costco membership. We use it to buy coffee, beer, wine, and propane tank refills. We have to go there together. And they have to pay and we pay them back.

We went there this week on Wednesday around 1 p.m. The parking lot was PACKED. “What pandemic?” I said to myself.

We parked by the propane tank refill station. I stood behind my car and popped the truck to get at my tank, when I looked over at the car next to mine, a bumper sticker read, “Pro God, Pro Gun, Pro Life, Pro Trump.”

I wanted ask my dad, “What does “Pro Gun” have anything to do with Jesus’s message?”

What does pro gun have anything to do with pro life? Don’t the two literally cancel each other out? Even if you believe guns are for protection, their sole purpose is to be able to take life. You don’t use guns for yard work. You don’t use them to cultivate a relationship. You use them to create fear and possibly remove the breathe of someone you think is a threat.

It makes sense in the context that “Pro God” is represented by an execution device. What else would you use to signify god. The heart is already getting used by the pro-life stance.

Hell, how can anyone be pro god and pro Trump? He’s the least Godly man to ever breathe oxygen or expel hot air. What a waste of a human being.

The hypocrisy is through the roof. We can feasibly drive abortion to extinction by real world education and scientific advancements … but the tendency for republicans to antagonize science is keeping us away from that.

Meanwhile, guns are taking life after life after life after life … And the team that supports them supports keeping them to “save lives” when it’s clearly not happening on US soil drenched in the blood of people of color and people who don’t look “white.”

Why can’t we work for the things that we can agree on. Pro life means pro life. Let’s all agree and make it happen. Not choose empty rhetoric that gets us NO WHERE.

Okay, so you’re pro-Trump, which means you’re hiding behind pro-racism. We’re never going to come to an agreement if our values are opposed to unity and inclusion.

I want you to love God. I want you to recognize that I don’t and that’s okay. But the yous of the world cannot.

Come on, guys! Let’s hug.

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