Come in. Sit on the couch. Tell me what you think. You’ve got an hour.


Yesterday my brother called.

We shared a text conversation earlier in the day. He sent me a quote from Sufjan Stevens.

It started like this:

America,

There really is no such thing as an illegal immigrant, for we are all immigrants and refugees in a wildly changing world that is dominated by superfluous boundaries built by blood and war. We all come from somewhere else. The truest of “Americans” have either been destroyed by the white immigrant, incarcerated, isolated, held captive, or stolen and enslaved. 

Read the rest here.

I thanked him for sharing. It was a cool quote. And it even referred to Jesus (turning the other cheek, loving enemies, etc.) and also to prayer. The quote itself embodies my own politics. Even though I don’t believe in a deified Jesus. I value my root understanding of him and who he was as a radical mind.

It drives me nuts that Jesus was clear about how to act and do in the world. And yet, no Evangelical would ever actually have enough faith that behaving like him would be the best option in the world. You can’t stop terror or enemies by turning the other cheek, offering up your last article of clothing, paying for someone else’s medical bills, etc etc etc.

Wait, can you? Why did he teach that stuff? What was his point?

One time, a wise evangelical explained this outright (“You can’t be friends with Muslims. You must fight. You must go to war.” I nodded my head at the time in utter confusion. I’ve always been down on myself for not saying, “Are you sure?”

Realistically or maybe practically, you’re digging your own grave or expecting a good hurtin’ if you act like Jesus acted. That’s why he said, “Turn the other cheek.” That means, “If they hurt you once, offer them another body part to hurt.” If anyone did act like Jesus, Christianity would go extinct in a jicama heartbeat. No no no. Jesus’s commandments weren’t “commands” but recommendations if not a nice story or two to pass the time on a Sunday morning between cinnamon buns and a big lunch.

Later in the day, I text my brother:

With all that’s going on in the world, I’m seriously considering looking for a new therapist or maybe going back to one I used to go to. I’m finding that i’m obsessing over it. 

My brother text me back a few hours later and wrote:

Sorry, just saw this.  Sorry to hear about the therapist…I’m gonna call you!

He called almost immediately and wanted to chat about the therapist thing. I think he thought my situation was much more dire. “Sorry about this …” Like I was living on the brink of brain explosive, skyscraper jumping, madness.

I don’t have a negative view of therapy. It’s positive. Therapy is a good thing. It took me over half my total 41 years to arrive at this conclusion. And when I finally did, holy shit, it was life changing.

When I was growing up, I was taught therapy was negative. Jesus is the wonderful counselor, prince of peace and all that shit. But you can talk to Jesus all day long, and he’s not going to help guide a more thoughtful way of approach through two-way discussion, focused listening and guided meditation. He’s just going to, wait, he’s not going to do a fucking thing. Unless you describe to him abandonment issues and then you call opening your bible and reading about the time he walked on water or recommended the Israelites bash babies heads on rocks as the best thing you can try to alleviate this kind of pain.

My point was that I just need to talk to a professional listener for an hour a week.

What’s going on in the world is definitely affecting me. And it’s why you’re seeing more activity here on this blog. I need to raise my voice, if only for the few of you who may be stopping by.

It’s not just Trump. And it’s not just America. It’s world events. It’s the shooting in Quebec. It’s terror. It’s earthquakes, tornadoes and hurricanes.

Whenever a mass something happens, I find myself pressing refresh on newsfeeds. It’s a 9/11 complex. And there’s so much 9/11-y type shit happening right now that I can’t stop clicking refresh.

I don’t watch TV News. I haven’t for eons. Visually, the redundancy is cataclysmic and it’s wrong. To listen to talking heads or to pundits is, quite possibly, the worst thing anyone can do for their brains.

I am a fan of NPR. No yelling. No screaming. Not a lot of out-of-control pundits. It’s not visual. It’s all aural. Once in a while I’ll find myself turning on a TV so I can see some visual that I can’t imagine.

My brother tried to console me a bit by repeating what some conservatives are repeating, which is: “Why not give Trump a chance? It’s only been a week, for pete’s sake!”

To that I say, “I’m strapped in. I’m doing my best to ride this tidal wave!”

My problem is I’ve read the 140 characters that emit from his fucked-up brain as they arrive on the twitter feeds. Way before that, I listened to him devalue the patriotism of John McCain. That alone should have disqualified any man from becoming a leader this country let alone a contender. I listened to him talk about assaulting women. I watched him make fun of a handicapped journalist.

I’ve even given credence to watching videos showing Trump making that same gesture when talking about so-called non-handicapped people, like Ted Cruz. Let me tell you, I’m not convinced. And even if Trump wasn’t making fun of Serge Kovaleski, stack the offensive behavior atop his inaugural speech atop his megalomaniacal obsession with deceiving the American public (e.g. inaugural crowd, alt facts, his own greatness, his executive orders, etc.), and we have a great case against a piece of shit of a man.

My approach is hardly ever going to be one of forgiveness and acceptance for his appalling behavior during the first 8 days of his unprecedented bizarreness that is his presidency.

As I’ve written on this blog, I was taught that leaders lead via strength of character, excellence in behavior, truth in perspective, focus from distraction, integrity, stoicism, authenticity, and accountability.

They should have a strong moral character. I can’t find these qualities in Donald Trump. It makes it really hard not to criticize him. But I’m listening. I’m watching. And I’m doing my best to be patient.

Okay. That sound means my hour is up. Thanks for letting me sit on your couch. See you next week.

The Atlantic: We’re not surprised by Trump; here’s a glimmer of hope


From the Atlantic story: “A Clarifying Moment in American History” by Eliot Cohen:

Many conservative foreign-policy and national-security experts saw the dangers last spring and summer, which is why we signed letters denouncing not Trump’s policies but his temperament; not his program but his character.

We were right. And friends who urged us to tone it down, to make our peace with him, to stop saying as loudly as we could “this is abnormal,” to accommodate him, to show loyalty to the Republican Party, to think that he and his advisers could be tamed, were wrong. In an epic week beginning with a dark and divisive inaugural speechextraordinary attacks on a free press, a visit to the CIA that dishonored a monument to anonymous heroes who paid the ultimate price, and now an attempt to ban selected groups of Muslims (including interpreters who served with our forces in Iraq and those with green cards, though not those from countries with Trump hotels, or from really indispensable states like Saudi Arabia), he has lived down to expectations.

Snip.

It will not be surprising in the slightest if his term ends not in four or in eight years, but sooner, with impeachment or removal under the 25th Amendment. The sooner Americans get used to these likelihoods, the better.

One thing I took from the article is the severity of supporters vs. non-supporters and how the rift it’s driving between loved ones, friends, family, coworkers, etc. is stupefying.

This is no normal presidency. Those opposed to Trump are not licking their wounds, cry babies throwing temper tantrums. The revulsion is steeped in utter confusion and distrust for the level of crazy this man is exhibiting and will exhibit.

And it’s mind boggling how the right is so thirsty to be in power, any damn dog will do the trick … as long as it’s not Obama or Hillary. No matter how immoral. How crazed. How abominable.

Although, there is a cynical part of me that will not allow too much hope to enter my mind. Which will surely make me suffer.

But we move forward.

See Johnny Depp run. Run, Johnny. Run!


 

I saw a meme on Facebook with Pirates of the Caribbean in which Johnny Depp’s character was being chased by an angry mob of 100 or 200 crazies, and the words on the screen read, “When you express your opinion on the internet.”

The guy who posted it is an evangelical and his Facebook posts rarely get more than a handful of likes. So it’s a head scratcher as to why he thinks his expressed opinions are so hated. I’m guessing he has a delusional victim mentality or a misplaced superiority complex. No one on social media that I can tell is oppositional to him. So maybe the lack of response causes feelings of attack.

No one ever comments on his stupid posts.

This guy was actually the principal of my Evangelical high school. He’s a guy who fed my brain so full of bullshit that I will always carry a certain level of anger that this guy was allowed at a chalkboard in front of young minds. It wasn’t that I didn’t learn anything under his tyrannical style of teaching. It’s just that the information was so far false and one-sided that once I learned about other views, and all the gray area between, I was able to determine he had little penis syndrome and wanted all young minds to never pursue a well-rounded education.

The Pirates of the Caribbean meme certainly got me thinking, though. Especially about how unwelcome his views seem to be. It’s astonishing that people bitch and moan that their views aren’t welcome in a world that has left folks like him behind. But it also is a reminder that views like his still exist. It’s astonishing.

And despite how marginalized his views are, he’ll keep posting like it’s helping his lost cause instead of learning from his failures and assimilating new ways of approach. His views are so archaic it’s like walking down the street and seeing a dinosaur, a real one. Walking, growling and munching on leaves from a tall tree.

But there’s another aspect of that Pirates of the Caribbean meme that bothers me. It’s that in the event you do express that unwelcome, archaic opinion, people like my old principal are still shocked that their “opinions” aren’t welcome.

My most popular post of all time wasn’t about religion or politics. It was about that sacred institution of quality craft called Ikea (“It’s official: Ikea is hell on earth”).

In fact, the post still gets comments despite the fact that it’s eons old and that this blog is a metaphorical ghost town. Most new comments I designate spam. I tried turning off comments years ago, but somehow they still seem to show up. I’ve even deleted comments to encourage people not to respond to other people’s hateful, mob mentality rage toward me for calling Ikea the shittiest furniture store in the universe.

There was a Pirates of the Caribbean mob mentality running after not only me, but my wife, for criticizing something so many people seem to love. I read one comment degrading Tina to her, and I found her getting really emotional and maybe even shedding a tear. It was cruel.

However I do see the hypocrisy in censoring comments on that old Ikea post. So I stare at my reflection and say, “Shame on me, too, for not understanding that expressed opinions generate responses, often nasty attacks.”

Thing was, I expressed my opinion about something a lot of people seem to like and want to defend, and the tension spilled into comments that made me want to run for cover at times.

If you fuck with other people’s “sacred” prepare yourself for pejorative responses. Here I thought we lived in a world where EVERYONE agrees that Ikea = shit. But in my bubble, I wonder how any decent human being could buy a Nickleback album let alone support a guy like Donald Trump.

On the flip, there are supporters of Trump, and Nickleback, who wonder why a person would NOT support them. There are people who think it’s funny to attack the person and not the thing.

While my point at the time of writing about Ikea was to be funny and to rail against a monster of a store that essentially steals your money in exchange for “furniture” that will be in your alley dumpster and landfills in less than 2 or 3 years.

The alternative is digging deeper into your pockets and buying something that will last 10 to 20 years … or longer … by simply investing in better quality.

But that’s not my point. My point is the whole biblical notion of you reap what you sow. If I write about Ikea being chalk full of crappy products, I should anticipate backlash.

If I post stuff that criticizes one kind of people in general, I should expect backlash.

I wonder sometimes how more people don’t understand that. If I criticize a non-person like Ikea, that’s not attacking a person. But people often misconstrue an allegiance as a personal attack.

But there are people who criticize, say, Liberals or Conservatives with false information or sweeping generalizations. Then they wonder why people respond to their views and chase them down with Internet Mob mentality negativity.

I’m done with that kind of toxic bullshit in my world, and instead of allowing it or saying, “Oh that’s okay that you’re offending me or attacking me personally,” I’m protecting myself by staying far, far away from those kinds of people.

Stick my ass with a fork. I’m fucking done.

Whelp, there’s always a New Year to magically change into something you weren’t last year


I saw this quote at Kottke.org:

For what it’s worth: it’s never too late or, in my case, too early to be whoever you want to be. There’s no time limit, stop whenever you want. You can change or stay the same, there are no rules to this thing. We can make the best or the worst of it. I hope you make the best of it. And I hope you see things that startle you. I hope you feel things you never felt before. I hope you meet people with a different point of view. I hope you live a life you’re proud of. If you find that you’re not, I hope you have the courage to start all over again.

Attributed to F. Scott Fitzgerald, but was actually written by screenwriter Eric Roth for the film adaptation of The Curious Case of Benjamin Button.

If it’s any consolation or a pinch on your tuchis, Mr. President Elect Donald J. Trump probably read the same quote a year or two ago when he decided to run for office. It’s never too late to become president, an entrepreneur, a nurse, a doctor, a professor … or merely a better person.

The quote is a little long for a bumper sticker; but it’s about the same thing. “It’s never too late to be the You you always wanted to be!” These kinds of quotes definitely start hitting harder at the beginning of New Years. As if a New Year is when a person will magically change all there is about themselves and blossom into the person they just couldn’t quite become in 2016, or 2015, or 2014 … et al.

I have found myself ruminating on the idea that I can become someone I wasn’t last year or the year before. I don’t fall for it. It took a long time to get here, and I’m still forward moving … at least I hope anyway.

In my case, the person I want to become is a successful photographer with big budget projects, hot clients, and to let go of any shitty clients or work that doesn’t make me happy or satiate my creative spirit the way I supposedly think it should be.

I can’t help but be a bit cynical about success. I struggle with jealousy of other creatives, and often get angry rather than happy for other people’s successes.

I saw a quote attributed to photographer Chase Jarvis that said, “Play the long game. Be patient and know it takes time [to fulfill your ambition].” I saw it at fstoppers with other advice like:

The people you follow have been doing the above for years, and that’s why they have huge followings.

Don’t get me wrong. I have heard of people — and watched other creatives or photographers — do Lamborghini 0 to 150,000 MPH in what seems like a couple nano seconds. And I seem to examine my own path and it seems like I’m accelerating on the back of a turtle riding a snail, whose been cooked and served at a cheap French restaurant.

I have this conversation with our studio partner and one of my best friends Bill who shares that sort of cynicism about other photographers who seem to go from being an accountant to holding classes on how successful they are as a fashion photographer in less than six months.

There seems to be nothing more annoying than watching photographers post their asses off on social media hoping to garner respect, accolades, attention and new jobs. In its defense, social media is an amazing vehicle for artists. And like everything, it’s up to the artist to determine his or her involvement on social media.

I always keep in mind that social media is a deceptive front. I was at a dinner recently with seven other creative people, and the one person at the table I thought was the most successful and most creative talked about how difficult running her business is and how creativity plays such a minor role in her day-to-day life.

I’ve found that for years. Creativity is not a day-to-day luxury, and maybe … just maybe … anybody trying to tell you otherwise is fucking with you like an evangelical telling you that “the good news Gospel” is actually “good news”.

I lust over creative expression, but the time to do it is devoured by running my business. New Year’s only mean it’s time to get my paperwork together to send to my accountant. And start a new year of wondering if another client will commission me for my talent.

This last year, I failed at a few things. One was a themed monthly photo project. I stopped after six images. I also failed to continue vLogging, which I did several. Just didn’t keep it up weekly like I had hoped. I also feel that I failed to pick myself up after falling down and wiping myself off. Perhaps I got caught in the thought that, “I’ll start another creative side project again next year.” I’m not sure.

There are several keys to creativity. The main difference between a creative and, let’s say, everyone else is: ideating concepts and then executing them. It’s the follow through that sets folks apart. For me, the process of creating art is as important as the result. Quite possibly the hardest part is chipping away at the process that could take five or ten minutes or several long arduous weeks.

Fortunately, last year wasn’t all failures. My business has grown year over year since the economy tanked back in 2007-08. We worked with new and old clients that are certainly hiring us for the quality of our work. Also, I made great strides with pushing myself to a healthy equilibrium through diet and exercise. It’s not quite where I want to be, but it’s one of those on-going projects. Exercise is an investment. It’s playing the long game. I’ve also spent more time meditating than before. I do mind-calming exercises. I repeat mantras and concentrate on my breathing more. When I run long distance, I try to let my mind go blank. Or I repeat “Creativity” or “Calm” with every other step.

Twenty seventeen is a continuation of the long game, but I hope to introduce concrete creative experiences that help me grow and to keep chipping away at the same old same old that I was doing last year and hope to continue to do going forward.

Let’s do this!

 

Ode to my beloved Tina


Yesterday was my wife Tina’s birthday.

Happy Birthday, Tina! I love you yesterday, today and tomorrow times a million! 

We booked an interiors shoot yesterday. And by “we” I mean Tina. But we were thrilled to have it. It’s a new client and we’ve been wanting to work with them for some time.

It was our last job of 2016. But booking it distracted us from celebrating Tina’s big birthday yesterday. This sounds completely cheeseballs, but we don’t like to leave our dog Talulah and our cat Zoe for too long at a time, and the thought of coming home, dressing up and going out for a celebration dinner was too stressful.

We decided that today would be a better day. So we’ll celebrate with a dinner out this evening.

Let me be clear on something, Tina is my everything. Without her, I would probably be committed. I don’t know what I would do. We spend almost every second of every minute of every hour together. I love her with so much of my heart, there’s hardly room for anybody else (Sorry, Jesus!).

Yesterday, I took a huge risk and kept from delivering a sappy Facebook Happy Birthday birthday wish dripping with love and affection for a few reasons. Mainly it was because I didn’t feel I had enough time to dedicate to it, and sloppily writing something for the sake of just doing it, didn’t feel right to me. My day’s creative juices were dedicated to performing on site for our job. Impressing the client stole my creativity for the day.

But this morning, I woke up with a new sense of guilt and frustration for letting yesterday slip by without devoting a thoughtful, love-laced dedication to my beloved wife and partner who inspires me, wows me, attracts me, thrills me, and completes me.

While still in bed, my thoughts went to my lovely angel and I looked over in the pale light and felt a pang of happiness. I thought I would write that sappy birthday dedication here, on this social media. For all to read. And for all to see.

I will call it, Four Things I love about My Beloved Tina.

  1. Tina’s Energy. There’s an energy that revolves around Tina that is unmistakable. It’s not on all the time. But when it is, it’s as attractive as any painting or art you could think of. On jobs, I wonder if they hire us or hire Tina. I think it’s more Tina. Sometimes when she sees me, she squeals with joy. She hugs and dances and laughs. When she wakes up and plays with our dog Talulah, it’s like the first time they’ve ever met and they play and laugh and bark and carry on. When she sees Zoe,  her heart sings and she scoops her up and cuddles her. When she’s alone in another part of our condo, she often sings to herself. This alone makes me swoon. Tina keeps a perpetual child-likeness. That’s to say, she expects everyone to be as kind as she is, and is often like Will Ferrel in Elf when he experiences that people aren’t.
  2. Tina’s Beauty. Tina’s a woman who stole my heart from day one. Her creativity often is embodied in her appearance, her choice of makeup and clothing. The way she does her hair. She often doesn’t realize it. Or she does, but she’s not always told. She expresses herself in what she wears and how she appears. I LOVE that about her. When we were dating, we went to a couple’s therapy group on the recommendation of one of our work mentors. We were one of the few couples in the room who weren’t there as the last step before their divorce. When other couples were asked to sit and stare into each others eyes for only a few minutes, they failed. We could do it like young lovers, unending and willfully. We still can. Our love life is better now than when we were dating. Perhaps it’s that and my perspective on love that keeps me head over heals for her. And I get to see her beauty every day, all day, and it makes me forever grateful and happy. One thing I’ve given a lot of thought to is the idea of sic transit gloria (or glory fades). And as our body’s grow older and our physical appearances change, I find the need to consider what that means for our love affair. My personal goal is to follow the leadership and example of all those couples who have seemingly stayed in love their entire lives. I anticipate it realistically and hope to understand it. Luckily, Tina’s beauty courses through her entirety of person. And my love for her is not strictly physical. Luckily, my heart pounds every time I see her. It’s like every day is my birthday. 
  3. Tina’s Conditional Love. You read that right. Conditional. None of that un-conditional bullshit. Tina’s a realist. I hope we both are. Our love for each other is holy-shit amazing! But thankfully it has conditions. I can’t just do anything, say anything, act the fool and expect Tina to be standing their naked offering fellatio for treating her like a bag of cat turds. I can’t treat Tina like Talulah’s diarrhea and say, “Whelp, you’re supposed to stick with me … we’re married … GOTCHA!” Growing up, I was taught and I thought love should be unconditional.  But there was a day when I realized that love has conditions, no matter what human (or deity) it’s coming from. Love should have conditions. It should be kept accountable. It should be malleable and open, but it should also make sure that anarchy is the worst form of love. One should dedicate empathy to it, but not mindless all acceptance. The day we go unconditional, the day we have to consider parting. I believe that it’s conditional love that promotes devotion to building our relationship, investing in it, watering it to grow and flourish. I love that.
  4. Tina’s Balance. No exaggeration, Tina has it all. She’s got a big personality at times, the most soothing and several beautiful idiosyncrasies between. In room full of family, Tina can put any Italian to shame by being the loudest person to get her story in above the cacophony of overpowering chatter. In a quiet room cuddling on the couch, she can calm a storm with her voice, her touch, her essence. She’s like a cat that purrs you to quiet your mind and find a zenful place of tranquil thoughts. She is grace. She is mercy. She is thoughtful. She is honest. She is emotional. And she is strong.

To Tina, I raise my glass, my candle, my voice.

When we’re down, we work together to ameliorate our woes. When we’re up, we are what the internet would consider viral. Viral to me anyway, because I have to “love” it every time I take another look.

Tina, I love you. Happy Birthday. Although belated. Forgive that. I hope. I needed time to properly devote a creative word dance to your importance in my life. To your energy, your beauty, your conditional love … and that your balance creates equilibrium for me, our family and our world.

Tina, je t’aime.

 

The Ghost of Christmas Future: “HOW TO TALK TO A TRUMP EVANGELICAL AT CHRISTMAS”


A guy I grew up with, Stephen Mucher, wrote a piece published at Religious Dispatches titled, “HOW TO TALK TO A TRUMP EVANGELICAL AT CHRISTMAS.”

He posted the article on Facebook, and I saved it to read later.

A bit of background, Stephen’s older than me by a few years, but we went to the same evangelical high school in High Point, N.C. His family was somewhat known as being a bit more liberal. And I’ve valued his posts on Facebook discussing politics and world affairs.

He has a Ph.D. his work has appeared in the LA Times, Washington Post, among other publications.

I’ll let you read the essay yourself. But his primary point is to encourage discussion between disagreeing parties regarding President-elect Donald Trump and some advice on how to do so.

I’m petrified to discuss this topic at my home over the Christmas holiday. But I am desperate for certain answers to questions I have about how any Jesus-loving believer could vote for someone like Trump. I can only identify one way that Trump resembles anything Christian, and that’s if you don’t agree with either of them, either will make your life hell. Jesus in the afterlife. Trump, via Twitter and taking your ass to court and suing the hell out of you.

This fear not discuss Trump with my family comes from a history of discussions gone awry. The result of the conversations going south are usually my fault. I am not as good of a talker as I am a writer (and even that is up for grabs). Number two: I’m a hot head and when I’m flustered, I communicate even worse than I do when I’m of sober mind and spirit.

Take this example: my Mom and Dad were visiting Tina and me this past summer. I was cooking them breakfast the day they were to leave. All things were going fine. There were no issues during their few days staying in our little two-bedroom condo in Chicago’s Uptown neighborhood.

At one point, we all started talking about the economy and my back was to everyone as I cooked. We discussed how it seemed more money was in our pockets thanks to low gas prices and other elements of economic betterment especially since it was so bad in 2007 to 2009. We seemed to agree that the weight of the depression was alleviated and getting better all the time.

Within a few minutes of talking about something else, my Dad made a comment about how bad the economy is under Obama and started going on and on about the dismal state of the Obama’s flaccid attempts to make it better. I slammed down the pan I was cooking in. “This is patently untrue! That’s not what the record shows” I erupted. Not only had we just talked about it, everyone from my conservative, republican friends and colleagues in the banking and insurance industries continue to reflect a perspective of growth.

My Mom defended my Dad by saying, “I guess it depends on where you get your information from.”

But … but … but … we ALL just talked about the bettered economy!!!

I think the last point that was made was that there are Americans who are still suffering from a depressed economy.

Yes, there are economic ruins in this country in pockets that are still feeling the burden of the depression, but isn’t that the problem with trickle-down economics … if you’re in lower socio economic regions, trickles take a helluva lot more time. That’s Reagan Economics in a nutshell. We can all agree to that. It was the dig against Obama that drove me nuts especially when everyone was just singing Kum-bay-fucking-ya about the improved economy.

Not to mention, my family directly benefits from socialized, government infrastructures that protect and provide for them on different levels. There are no better poster-children for government-loving, democratic-loving secularists like people in my immediate family. But a vote for Hillary was disgusting as hell compared to a Christ-hating, orange buffoon because “He tells it like it is,” and “The supreme court will get stacked against ‘Republican values’ if we don’t vote for him!”

Republican values. What the hell does that mean anymore with a leader like Trump?

It’s the hypocritical disproportion of approach that is an unfair conversation approach. One cannot talk about improved economy and follow it with a disparaging illogical comment about it within minutes.

This hypocrisy is what we anticipate as an unfair approach to dinner-time political banter among disagreeing parties.

This is a guy who has yet to give props to the almighty for anything. Even atheists have claimed him for his lack of belief-affirming behaviors.

This is a guy who is as America-first as any tax-evading gangster can be.

This is a self-defined womanizer. Pussy grabbing aside. His three-wife, I wouldn’t have hit on that ugly woman who claims I assaulted her bullshit.

A man who criticizes our veterans and POWs.

A man who makes fun of handicapped citizens.

A man who calls for violence against his opposition.

A man who is the poster child for xenophobia.

Trump  would certainly deport a brown man born of a middle eastern woman who isn’t married to the father of her child. He would balk at giving them a lease in one of his opulent buildings. Giving up his wealth for the sake of tradition as president … NOT going to happen. Camels walk through needles more easily. We know he wouldn’t hang with Zacchaeus; the man doesn’t pay taxes. Jesus didn’t command to give to Caesar what is Caesar’s, unless there’s a loophole or two.

Trump has run out of cheeks to turn. His track record of caring for his enemies, in the below zeroes.

Although, welcoming home a prodigal son, like Rick Perry or Ben Carson … I guess you can’t get more Jesus-y than that.

All hail Trump.

I would love to hear a rational approach to supporting Trump. Rational in terms of a coherent message that supports the convictions of Christ-loving, life-loving, decent human beings and how they rationalize and align their love of Jesus and his message with a guy like Trump.

But this request for coherence is coming from a guy like me who thinks that the bar for the Good News Gospel is set way too low. That even if proven to be real, I’d still not support belief and allegiance to Jesus or God. But that’s my fault. Or Satan’s. Or whatever the hell.

Oh bother.

The Ghost of Christmas past always shows Ebenezer where he came from and the Ghost of the Future shows him how dismal it’s going to be … I’m afraid I don’t know the script well enough to change life’s trajectory and Make the Christmas Dinner Table Discussion Great again.

But there’s always hope that Jesus will hear anyone’s prayers. So let him hear mine.

Amen.