The whole problem with the world


A skeptic friend on Facebook posted the following quote and attributed it to Bertrand Russell:

“The whole problem with the world is that fools and fanatics are always so certain of themselves, but wiser people so full of doubts.”

I found my mouse attracting itself toward the “love” option and clicking it, but the skeptic in me highlighted the quote and googled it. My google results showed that it’s unknown who said it, according to this page at wikiquote. But who knows what’s what on the internet? I don’t.

Full of Doubts; I think that’s my middle name.

I struggle with doubts all the time. Self doubts. Doubting others. Doubting others perceptions of the universe, the world, the neighborhood, of me.

I wonder if it’s my job to respond to my friend and say, “Great quote, but the skeptic in me questioned its attribution and a Google search resulted in showing it might not be Russell.”

I’m pretty sure I’m starting to hate the Internet and social media in general. Over the past six or seven months, I’ve tried scaling back on mindlessly scrolling through Facebook. I’ve found myself trying not to respond on people’s posts, whether I agree with them or not.

I’m wondering if the Internets aren’t making people stupider. While it’s chock full of information, it’s even more full of bullshit. Memes are the fruits of the devil.

Fortunately, it seems that email forwards are nearly extinct. I think the last dinosaur lives in my building on the first floor. His diet consists of mass quantities of diet Coke, Cubs games, pancake breakfasts at his church, and the adrenaline rush of forwarding the insane stupidity to his email list.

But people like my Dad, Aunts, and Aunts-in-laws have transferred their email forwarding energy to the Facebook for that adrenaline rush.

Then there are my own skeptical friends who post quotes, and I’m skeptical of them, too.

That quote, though, that quote is something that resonates with me. Over the last several years, I’ve been to a few funerals. My maternal Grandfather passed this year. We weren’t close, and it wasn’t upsetting so much to me. I had to check my pulse a few times to see if I was still living. Why wasn’t I upset by this? I found myself in tears after hearing that Gwen Ifill passed, and I didn’t well up at all when Gramps went.

But at Grandpa’s funeral, his remembrance ceremony included speeches claiming that the speaker “knew” that my grandpa was now with Jesus.

People KNOW that a man who died is with Jesus. Jesus, the savior of the world. A guy who supposedly is God. Three in one. A guy who was born 2,000 years ago and used a virgin’s womb and vaginal canal as the tunnel between heaven and earth.

People claim to KNOW that Jesus did this for certainty.

And the tunnel that Jesus used to return to heaven was ascending, literally destroying gravity without ropes or wires … he went up and up and up until he returned to the right side of his “father” and his brother, Holy Ghost. Or hisself. The triune.

And people KNOW this without Google, or the Internet, or an email forward or a meme on the Internet.

They KNOW. Indisputable knowledge. Trademarked Good News, Gospel Greatness. There was no way I was going to walk up to the pastor after my grandpa’s funeral and say, “How do you know my grandpa’s with Jesus?”

Did this pastor ascend up and up and up into heaven while no one was looking, transfer through a tunnel into heaven, see Jesus and Grandpa hug and hold hands?

No, I’m pretty sure he didn’t. No one has seen heaven except the dead. No one except the dead and little boy Colton Burpo who mopped up a shitload of book sales after his daddy wrote a book for him (see Heaven is for Real.”)

Fools and Fanatics. Them there are the people who are full of certainty.

Or maybe it’s the fools and fanatics who are full of doubt.

That quote only makes one kind of person feel better and sheds uncertainty on the other kind of person.

What’s the harm in thinking Grandpa is literally with Jesus? I guess it doesn’t hurt anybody. Or maybe no one really thinks Grandpa and Grandma are literally with Jesus. Being with Jesus is funeral code for “they’re dead.”

It’s the certainty that bothers me. “I know Grandpa is with the dude who I believe created the Universe.”

“I know I’m going to heaven.”

“I know … you’re going to hell.”

These are statements of certainty.

They aren’t, “I know this steak tastes amazing” or “I love it when I get a check for $20,000” or “I know my wife is next to me in bed.”

If she weren’t really next to me, but actually next to a gigolo in Vegas, I’d still have more knowledge than knowing that Grandpa was with Jesus.

My concern is that once you allow yourself to think you’re certain that Grandpa is sitting in Jesus’ lap hugging each other in the afterlife, what else are you able to convince yourself of … with damned certainty?

What is the harm in saying, “I loved Grandpa. He was a great man who lived a great life (truths), and now that he’s gone, I want to believe that he’s with Jesus, who he had lived his life for and who promised him eternal life so long as he accepted Jesus into his heart. Because I can’t see it, I will have to believe this idea to be true.”

That to me is like Hillary Clinton railing against rich people when she herself is rich.

I don’t know if Grandpa is with Jesus. I don’t know if he’s not with Jesus. There’s absolutely NO way to know. There’s no way to know that God is real or is not real. There are good arguments for his existence and good arguments against.

I have no idea if Tina really loves me, but I have a pretty good feeling she does. She acts like it almost 95% of the time. Then there’s that 5% of the time when she wants to scream, “I hate you, Jeremy! You asshole. I hate you, hate you, hate you!”

If it weren’t for 95% of her behavior indicating otherwise, I wonder if I would be more skeptical.

I can’t find myself to accept that God, Jesus and the Spirit are (is?) so trivial that he/they/it would let two perfect people’s disobedience be the rational to allow death, disease, pain in childbirth & toiling the earth and the only way to survive death’s inevitability is to express the following thought, “Jesus, I’m a sinner. Come into my heart.” The ticket price for eternal life in heaven is a thought. The ticket price for eternal pain and suffering is an oppositional thought.

Is this really an idea worth fighting for? Is Jesus really the vaginal canal to heaven?

Do you remember who you were for all of the history of the universe before you were born? Why not? Why didn’t you have consciousness before you were born, but after you were born and you did or didn’t accept Jesus would that dictate whether you felt the eternal burn of hell or the eternal bliss of heaven?

I’m good with “I don’t know” and I don’t know why. I don’t think it makes me wiser. I don’t think it makes me a fool.

I’m the wisest fool I know, I believe that with fantastic fanaticism.

And that’s the problem with the world.

Honk.

 

D to the O to the N to the A L D, mother fucking T-RUMP


Tina and I voted today. As you might imagine, as I leaned in, dragging my pen toward the letters H I L L A R Y, my pen swerved at the last second and scratched a huge notch next to another name on the ballet.

Yes, indeed, I voted for Trump. That’s right.

D to the O to the N to the A L D, mother fucking T-RUMP.

We need change in America, and he’s obviously the only man who can bring that change.

Think about it. He’s a businessman. Not a lifelong politician. He doesn’t have lobbyists in his back pocket or on his shoulders guiding his thoughts and decisions.

Trump makes more sense. His plans to make America great again are filled with salient, concrete examples of plans to ameliorate this fucked up country of ours.

With all the violence, lackluster economic growth, and terrorism on the rise, we need a man … a man with real balls … real, hairy stones that doesn’t cower in any of the corners of the Oval Office.

We need a man with a STRONG beautiful woman on his arm. That way he can look good walking into all those presidential dinners, and international, black-tie affairs.

We need someone with beautiful hair to guide us through the next four years of cranking America’s amazingness up to the standard of life that Donald Trump is eager to establish like a towering building over the diverse landscape that is today’s dystopian UnUnited States of CrapMerica.

We need a leader backed by Evangelical Christians. Wait, white evangelical Christians … who know exactly what the leadership should look like in this country … people who can obviously figure out better than any other Christian what the bible means about morality, marriage, economics, science, and world events. People who don’t trifle over the nuances of bible verses to the point of so many confused sects that only stars outnumber differences of biblical opinion.

Frankly, we need someone pompous, conniving, manipulative and dastardly … you know … like Trump. We need someone who knows commitment only means “only until you get bored or your wife gets ugly and a new, hot option becomes available.”

We need a man who failed at as many businesses as almost all of America’s failures have experienced since she was born.

We don’t need someone like Crooked Hillary whose primary goal will be to destroy America and to make Isis GREAT … for the first time.

We can’t have a grandma in the Oval Office. All she would want to do is babysit her grandkids while sipping on Ensure, flipping through AARP magazine. This is a woman so damn near her deathbed, her gun-loving haters wouldn’t need to express their 2nd amendment rights on her … thank goodness a mild cold could take her out.

Who do we want making decisions on a Supreme Court Justice who could weigh in on women’s rights via Roe v. Wade? Definitely not a vagina-clad woman. We don’t want to take the rights away from white men who need to keep vagina’s grabbed for their pleasures.

NO.

We need a strong, baboon man guiding this country into the opulent foyer of our future great home of Great America.

This pathetic excuse of a country needs Trump. And I’m glad my pen steered me far from marking Hillary on my Illinois ballot so I could vote for making this country the Great country that only a GREAT big failure can guide us to.

Hell, if it exists, hath frozen over: I agree with Glenn Beck … for the first time ever?


This statement by Glenn Beck from his Facebook page couldn’t be more spot on in terms of what I expect from ALL the leadership and all of those who identify themselves as Republican as well as Christ-following Christian do-gooding, do-righting, do-righteousness and do-prouds. Post below. Emphasis mine. 

Every person, each of us must decide what is a bridge too far.

Mike Lee has obviously reached that point, where the moral compromise his party is asking him to make is simply beyond what is acceptable.

It is not acceptable to ask a moral, dignified man to cast his vote to help elect an immoral man who is absent decency or dignity.

If the consequence of standing against Trump and for principles is indeed the election of Hillary Clinton, so be it. At least it is a moral, ethical choice.

If she is elected, the world does not end…. Once elected, Hillary can be fought. Her tactics are blatant and juvenile, and battling her by means of political and procedural maneuvering or through the media , through public marches and online articles, all of that will be moral, worthy of man of principal.

Her nominees can be blocked, her proposed laws voted down.

The alternative does not offer a moral person the same opportunity. If one helps to elect an immoral man to the highest office, then one is merely validating his immorality, lewdness, and depravity.

But it’s OK, at least it is not her! Right??

No.

Lee’s call for Trump to step down and withdraw from the race is respectful to him and to the process.

Trump stepping down does not guarantee a Clinton win, but it does guarantee that the Republican party still stands for something, still allows its members to maintain thier own self respect and that it still has a future.

How do you elevate public discourse


Yesterday I wrote some thoughts about #PussyGate.

The topic has infiltrated my brain and I cannot stop thinking about it. I’ve seen that Jerry Falwell Jr. is supportive of trump. Pat Robertson.

These are Christian leaders, and they aren’t giving much more than a frown to Trump. These are the people, the leaders, who should be elevating the public’s standard of morality by criticizing the man. Criticism doesn’t mean that they can’t still support him. But not criticizing him makes me think that they lack any relevance in the morality game. They should hang up their hats.

This is not the leadership that I grew up with.

When I was growing up in an evangelical Christian home, our parents, teachers, Sunday school teachers, and leaders were constantly teaching us about moral behaviors.

One time in High School, I was the president of our academic association. During an induction ceremony, each member of the association tapped new members during the induction part of the hour. Since I was president and to give a speech, I was seated on stage facing the rest of the student body. A teacher had given me a name of a student that I was to tap. We were told to locate that student in the crowd before hand so that we could tap them efficiently.

During an opening prayer, I must have kept my eyes open to search for the guy I would tap.

After the ceremony, one headmaster pulled me aside and said we needed to talk. He told me that he saw that I had my eyes open during the prayer. He explained that leadership means that when other students are watching, especially younger ones, it’s essential to do everything right. That means, closing your eyes because someone watching might misconstrue that behavior.

I felt like shit.

I still close my eyes during prayers, especially when my nieces are in the room. Even though I don’t pray to any god, I find it’s essential to be a good influence on them. I think that doing my best to expose my nieces to positive behavior, to be culturally aware, is positive. Of course if we ever had a discussion, I would gladly explain my position on god. But that’s not on the table when all they know is each meal is opened with a prayer.

We were also taught to respect women, sex, and our speech about both in both private and in public. To this day, I’m not sure I’ve ever participated in so-called locker room talk. I’ve heard some pretty shitty things said. And I’ve even asked guys to stop talking bullshit.

I’ve been on photo sets with women as naked and shaven as the day they were born, and I go out of my way to make sure I don’t do or say creepy shit … why? Because I was taught that leaders, upright men and women, don’t talk in a way that might upset another person.

We treat people the way we want to be treated.

Right, Jesus?

We were taught that was as essential to act above reproach even when no one was watching, because “God” was always watching. He was everywhere. That’s what we were told. That’s what we believed. I couldn’t masturbate without a level of guilt that Jesus was watching.

I still feel guilty when I think some thoughts. It’s residual conditioning from the discipline of my youth.

Our teachers taught us that immoral thoughts were as sinful as actions. In fact, there was no difference in the sin of thought versus action.

How many times was I told that? Let me count the times!

Another time after a basketball game, my coach gave me an earful after I lost my temper on the court. Losing one’s temper was a complete lack of proper public behavior.

But these same coaches, teachers, parents and leaders aren’t so much as criticizing a man so rife with sin, whether or acted upon or thought, that their hypocrisy is absolutely befuddling me.

That makes me wonder about this entire process of raising kids a certain way, but once they’re adults, let certain folks do whatever the fuck they want.

As long as a “law” isn’t broken, all’s fair in love and war and presidential campaigns.

Where are the leaders in the church, where are the teachers and parents who should be pulling Trump to the side and calling him out? Either publicly or privately?

Do you want to know why I was criticized for certain behavior? Because of “love.” The people around me wanted me to succeed. To guide the greater good, having people behave less like animals and more like civilized people makes for a better public discourse. When you’re part of a team, the leaders of the team might look at a weaker player and say, “Hey, you gotta improve this aspect of your play.” It’s not to piss that person off, it’s to help the rest of the team look better. To help the rest of the team win.

So why is it considered poor behavior to criticize Trump?

He’s a part of a team, a team that is getting leveled and battered for being the lousiest losers in the country.

If I could pull the whole of the world aside, I would advise them to behave less like quiet animals quietly enabling people like Trump to raise their standard of public and private behavior to a higher, less, well, um … a less deplorable standard.

 

It has come to this, the #ComeTrumPence is going to make me vomit #Trump #PussyGate


Like the rest of America, the leaked recording of Trump floored me.

It was like a cataclysmic world event, and I wanted to be first in line to consume the fallout as it rolled out. I scoured websites, FOX News included, looking for information and updates. I half assumed more Republicans would bail on Trump. And I’m not surprised that so many people whom I love are somehow still supporting him, namely through Facebook posts or reposts.

I have not and cannot seem to find any kind of understanding why and how anyone would support Trump, apart from the idea that supporting Hillary would be completely un-acceptable. And I kind of get that. Why? Because I was raised conservative. And there’s not a critical eye that most conservatives can throw onto any situation.

I scratch my head with the rest of the Trump unsupporters wondering how he got this far. I wonder how many books, articles and talking heads will examine this phenomenon for years to come.

For the most part, I’m quietly voting for Hillary. I make no effort to defend her past. If nothing else, I’m very critical of her. It would be a full-time job to completely dig into all the ins and outs of what people criticize her for.

I don’t think of her as the lesser of two evils. Trump should be disqualified from running for such an office. His actions, his demeanor, his track record continue to render him a big buffoon.

Had there been a more identifiable Republican in the race, I could have given them a fair shake at possibly winning my vote in November. Trump lost my vote forever when he made the comment about McCain and how disgraceful it was that he was fucking captured.

Really? A war veteran. A POW. A fucking patriot and a hero?

In whose mind is this kind of talk defensible, let alone coming from a “republican” the party that stands so proudly on the more-patriotic-than thou platform.

This election season has been nothing but a nightmare for me.

When a family member expresses support via social media for Trump or even for Hillary, I first wonder, “Why do you have to do this publicly?” We all know that this election is causing more and more division within this country. It makes me think people want to piss off half of their friends for nothing other than the thrill of pressing “Post” and seeing a couple awkward “likes.”

And now there’s this reprehensible #PussyGate bullshit.

I just looked at Facebook and saw how many Christian grandfathers with grandchildren, Christian fathers of little girls and boys, who find it okay to support a man identifying himself as the candidate to lead this country to “greatness” and at fifty fucking nine years old he is on a recording saying that he tried to fuck a married woman and that it’s okay to grab women by their pussies.

What the fuck.

And then the number of women who support the culture that allows this?

Devastating.

And women supporting Trump? How is this possible?

Republicans, especially evangelical “conservatives,” the self-declared masters of morality with their incessant insistence that they alone hold the key to pleasing the unseen god of the universe by embracing and holding Holy Bibles above their heads is supporting a disgrace of a man who has done more to violate Biblical values than any man I’ve ever met, and they have the gaul to support  a man who has mocked women, Americans with disabilities, veterans, judges, immigrants (like my own father), the working poor, 400 lb computer geeks, Muslims, Jews, refugees, and the list grows and bloats every day of every week as we near November.

Yes, we’ve watched Hillary, a career politician get caught in lies. Her email server is terrible. She’s probably done some horrendous things in support of her husband’s indiscretions. I happen to know women quite closely who have done the same thing.

We all know how to tell if a politician is lying, don’t we? When their mouths are open?

Are we all this stupid?

I’m appalled that we are okay with anything politicians get away with. But we live in a country overwrought with concepts of forgiveness for everyone except our enemies despite what Jesus ostensibly said about 70 times 7. Or rich people and camels. Or feeding the poor. Helping the sick and the destitute.

For almost twenty years, I’ve lived with a lot of anger regarding how men, namely Christian men, Christian business men, married Christian business men who go on trips in America and abroad, and they fuck and rape young, often very underage women who were sold into slavery and prostitution by their own fathers.

This is the type of man Trump is. A business man who has shown no remorse about not paying taxes, about sexual immoralities, about cheating, lying and deceiving to make a buck. And maybe that’s why so many men with such disgusting proclivities and abhorrent fantasies support him. They want to be him, a man who does what he wants and gets away with it.

What a leader.

What a con-artist, misogynistic, load of bullshit loser, mother fucking asshole.

Only a supporter of Trump could look at him and misconstrue “winning” with such a loser mentality.

The Republicans can’t claim they’ve cornered the market on moral superiority when their candidate for leadership can’t find his way out of a paper bag labeled “right & wrong.”

I’m a bit nauseous right now from hashing all this out. I think I might go throw up now.

Michael Rosenblum — “tell me what you watch and I will tell you what you are”


Over at that drivel rag Huffington Post, I read this blog  from Michael Rosenblum titled, “Donald Trump is Going to be Elected.”

It opens with:

The American people voted for [Trump] a long time ago.

They voted for him when The History Channel went from showing documentaries about the Second World War to Pawn Stars and Swamp People.

They voted for him when The Discovery Channel went from showing Lost Treasures of the Yangtze Valley to Naked and Afraid.

They voted for him when The Learning Channel moved from something you could learn from to My 600 Pound Life.

They voted for him when CBS went from airing Harvest of Shame to airing Big Brother.

These networks didn’t make these programming changes by accident. They were responding to what the American people actually wanted. And what they wanted was Naked and Afraid and Duck Dynasty.

I imagine a few readers will finish that segment scratching their head wondering, “Wut?”

If that’s the case, perhaps this response isn’t for you.

While the sentiment and this blog’s expression are not new, I found myself nodding my head. Hell, I remember watching the “History” channel circa 2003 wondering why they were giving credence to the possibility that the biblical plagues happened and how they might have happened with modern explanations. Or musings about the whereabouts of Noah’s Ark. Two things that never happened. History, nor science, recognizes them as happening. And yet, the History channel spent beaucoup bucks getting this kind of shit produced for people who need their skeptic views of the bible they accept to somehow be reconciled and possibly true.

The French may love food, the Italians may love opera. What we love is TV. We are TV culture. It defines who we are.

TV. Fucking TV.

Throw away your television. 

We cancelled our cable earlier this year. We don’t watch sports, stay as far away from 24-hour news cycles as humanly possible, and check out very little on network TV. You can find all those shows on more inexpensive resources anyway. The internets are loaded with content.

I primarily use my TV to watch movies. We subscribe to Netflix and Hulu. We can get over 50 channels with an antenna. I have a movie channel now that shows more great movies than I’ve wanted. I also tend to watch PBS’s local news show: Chicago Tonight. Sometimes NewsHour and Frontline. NOVA.

The great thing about PBS is the content isn’t loud. People aren’t insulting each other. It’s civil, informed discussion. Most times. It’s actually really fucking boring. And somehow that appeals to me.

Tina has some guilty pleasures on TV, and it’s been perhaps a little more difficult for her to quit the cable. But all in all, she’s so glad we did. I am, too.

We read more. Exercise more. Talk more. Sit on the back porch and lovingly gaze into each others eyes.

Twenty-four hour news is bullshit. It’s loud, obnoxious and if nothing else entertainment, a ruse, and confusing. People honestly think that they are getting the information they need if they watch 30 minutes of FOX followed by 30 minutes of CNN or MSNBC … while surfing Drudge, Brietbart, Facebook, WND, et al.

And those lines about the French and the Italians. Cultured assholes.

We Americans are cultured, too. Cultured on TV and sports. And chain, cookie-cutter restaurants. There is a political conversation you can overhear in this goddamn country that wasn’t inspired by the exact same words that everyone on TV from dawn to dusk isn’t talking about. We have no brains of our own.

We’re us vs. them. We lump entire groups of people into categories of good and bad. Positive and negative. My own family posts to Facebook that liberals are vile and disgusting and their ideas and policies must be stopped at all costs!

But when all you surround yourself with is shit that makes one group awful and another group superior, that’s how you start to treat people you love. It’s inadvertent. The doer doesn’t realize they’re doing it. They mask it in, “I want to inform others.” Or “I’m proud of what I believe in.” “I’m a straight shooter.” Or “I love others and I want this love to show via these hateful comments.”

And then there’s me. Writing this blog post. Probably offending someone. Or maybe not enough. Should I write in all caps so that it looks like I’m screaming?

Donald Trump is great TV.

He knows how to entertain.

He understands ratings.

Hillary Clinton is crap TV.

She may be smarter, better prepared, a better politician. It won’t matter. She is terrible entertainment.

When I lived in France as a student, I was completely unaware of America’s great cultures. Compared to the French, I had no culture. I was incapable of identifying them. We didn’t have the traditions in food and love of the arts. Our appreciation of most everything worth a damn paled in comparison. I remember one day waking up and realizing that our American culture was largely sports, sugary drinks, shit food and the weirdest, anti-Jesus capitalism in the universe.

I don’t know this to be true. It’s what I’ve been taught. Right?

When I went back to France in 2008 on my honeymoon, McCain announced his running mate Sarah Palin. Tina and I watched it on TV one night while munching baguette and sipping wine. We almost spit our wine when we heard her open her mouth. Palin was GREAT TV. And many ate her up. She paved the way for Trump to get as far as he has. He owes her a fist bump.

Rosenblum exits his blog with this:

In 1825, the great French gastronom Brillat de Savarind said, “tell me what you eat and I will tell you what you are”. Today, in America, we can safely say, “tell me what you watch and I will tell you what you are”.

I’ll tell you what I watch.

I watch people. My favorite things to photograph are people and places.

If I’m not photographing, I love sitting and watching people.

I guess that — based on Rosenblum’s logic — that — kind of — makes me a … a person.

 

I turn to you


rosie mae _0175-

“I ask you to turn to each other, not against each other as we move forward. Let us support one another. Let us help heal one another.”

– Loretta Lynch, July 8, 2016

Agoraphobia is getting more and more attractive.

I’m starting to have nightmares on a regular basis about murders. Not to self diagnose and to diagnose America … but I think we’re all suffering from PTSD.

I’m hoping that I wake up and this was all a bad dream.

Last night, a sniper took out five cops and injured more. This week, two more black men die with phone video to show the world. Just this week, a friend of mine — a person whom I only know through social media —  was murdered in her home in North Carolina. I refer to her in this old vLog I did back in 2009. Her name was Wendy Rae. See this article here for information. It’s fucking awful.

Fuck, man, I’m still trying to get over that attack last August when Bryce Williams shot and killed those two reporters while working. I’m still trying to get over the Charleston massacre, let alone the Pulse Nightclub bullshit and November 13 in Paris.

When I ride down the street on my bike with Tina, I look at people in cars and wonder if they’re going to execute a random act of violence against us. It plays out in my head. It scares me.

Shit, a lot of stuff plays out in my head.

I hate it.

Social media makes it worse. You have friends ranting and raving from their stereotypical points of view. You have the shitheads that no matter what happens, they’ll side with the NRA and rant against the president. Then you have the folks that scream, “Do something about the gun problem!”

Who the fuck knows what the problem is.

We’re living in a goddamn powder keg. While I am fond of this president and the last eight years, I know so many who aren’t. And that building tension is about to explode no matter who wins the chair in November.

If Hillary gets it, the rednecks and racists will scream bloody murder. They’ll collectively say, “We’ve already had eight years of a black man. Now we gotta deal with this white-y fucking bitch who broke the law and shit. That’s what FOX told me!”

And if Trump gets it, the rest of us will eloquently bitch and moan for four years using reasonably decent grammar and educated words.

I doubt I’m alone when I say that I would love to win the lottery, move out of the country and hide away from all this chaos for a while. I need a goddamn break from violence and negativity.

When I was in France a few weeks ago, there was one night that Tina and our travel partners went to dinner while in Marseille. The place we chose was a bad choice. And we got stuck with tourist level food at not so great prices. The night’s conversation was loaded with negative comments, and everyone was damn sure not to leave even the smallest tip.

So I went to the bathroom after we were leaving, and I told everyone I’d meet them outside. When I came back down from the toilets, I gave our waiter, who was very patient with us and not a bad waiter for sure, a tip. He did, after all, deal with our table’s lack of French. We were a bit loud. And he hooked us up with another table’s unfinished bottle of white wine.

Instead of going back with everyone, I told them politely I needed to take a walk for a minute. So I walked around the Old Port and got my bearings. This was my trip to celebrate my birthday. I also think that traveling abroad means embracing the negative experiences and doing one’s best to stay positive.

You know that old idea that you can give someone a swell of compliments, but one negative word can or might carry ten times more weight than all those positive words?

I feel the same way about how negativity affects every day life.

And boy are we affected.

I took the above photo last week, and I find it particularly apropos given all the events over the last year, or more … Racism, violence, bigotry …

Whether we know about it more because of social media or we’re living in an exceptionally violent time, I fucking need to take a walk and get away from it for a while. But I can’t seem to get far enough away from it all.

Man, I’m spent.

I’ve decided I need to be a force for positivity in my world. So when Loretta Lynch gave her speech today, I took notes. And that quote up there meant everything to me at this particular time … when I want to be on the blame team. I want to be negative. But my brain can’t take it anymore. My heart either.

I turn to you. And not against you.