Oppressed and Suppressed

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Now, even though I'm oppressed and suppressed being behind the door, some things get in and out through the magic of the Thought Dock Portal.  And here is one.  I didn't write it, but I could have.  And this story is not as odd as you might think.  It has been happening to me for over 40 years now.

Today I swung my front door wide open and placed my Remington 870 right in the doorway. I gave it 6 shells, then left it alone and went about my business.

While I was gone, the mailman delivered my mail, the neighbor boy across the street mowed the yard, a girl walked her dog down the street, and quite a few cars stopped at the stop sign right in front of our house. After about an hour, I checked on the gun. It was still sitting there, right where I had left it. It hadn't moved itself outside. It certainly hadn't killed anyone, even with the numerous opportunities it had been presented to do so. In fact, it hadn't even loaded itself. Well you can imagine my surprise,with all the media hype about how dangerous guns are and how they kill people.

Either the media is wrong or I'm in possession of the laziest gun in the world.

Well, I'm off to check on my spoons. I hear they're making people fat.
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The way things are

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Hey now!  Do I sound muffled?  Well, I am.  Muffled that is.

It's not just the raspy God Father voice that I've developed over the years that the doctors now call "Spastic Vocal Chord Syndrome" and have pledged to cure, but have yet to. 

It's because I've actually entered the closet.  The place that I once despised.  It was once the place where people went to hide when they didn't fit into society.  A dark place where nobody could see them.  Where nobody had to listen to their screams.  It was the place for criminals.  Liars, cheats, and scoundrels.  Pirates, thieves, witches.   Gays, Lesbians and molesters.  Adulterers, dopers and alcoholics.  Whores, prostitutes, and gamblers.  Thieves, thugs and slugs.

They were the ones behind closed doors.  Muzzled from society because they were evil.  They've always been around.  For thousands of years.  Always living in their ill ways, but hiding, wearing masks and not wanting to be discovered.  Because they were ashamed, and because society would not tolerate them.  That was Yesterday.  A time which I loved so much.

Things are different now.  It is no longer Yesterday, but Today. 

We let them escape where they now brazenly exercise their lifestyle and demand that we join them.  And most of us already have.  They've filled the airways with their views as they boldly rub things in my face.  Most news stations and Democrats have joined in.  Laws protecting their insanity are passed every day.

So Today, I am in the closet.  A place where my voice is muffled to a point where only a few of you can understand.  A place where I can not be seen.  A quiet and safe place where I can live my life without disturbing the freaks outside (actually by today's standard, I am the freak).  Suppressed and oppressed.

And it's better that way.
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You are what you. . .

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Although it doesn't seem like it was long ago, but it was.  It was very long ago when she said, "If you eat another mouthful of that cake, you'll going to turn into a cake."  It was really funny to me at the time because I knew I couldn't turn myself into a cake by eating too much of one as she said.  So, I just blew her off.

I now know just how right she was.  But she wasn't just talking about eating cake.  She was talking about so many other things.  Not just eating things, but condoning, accepting, tolerating, or actually doing things that we know we shouldn't.

Remember that skinny kid in the 4th grade?  You know, the one that loved to play with the girls, doing girl things, and dressing and talking like them.  We used to call them Fruits and sissies.  Or perhaps the kid that wore mostly black clothing and combed his hair back in a Duck Tail fashion.  Mr. Cool.

Hot pants.  Smoking.  Fast cars.  Foul language and Grass.  Those were things that I was told not to do, and not to even be tempted.  But I did.  I did them all.  But you know, now I know.

I know that the more we witness, the more we tolerate, the more we cone, the more we will become one that we know is wrong.

Hollywood rams this crap down our throats every night.  Sitcoms galore about anything and everything.  Daily shows about dysfunctional families, single parents, gay relationships, liars, cheats, murderers adulterers and Pot Farmers and Islam.  Even a Jack in the Box commercial showning an animal flipping off Jack!  A 24 hour news filled with corruption, monster storms, Gay marriage, pot smoking, and the wickedness of the world.

And now I know more than ever what she was talking about.  The more we watch.  The more we listen and witness all these things that we know are wrong; the soon we will all come to accept them as being normal.

But it is not.
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My Mama said . . . .

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I guess I wasn't much older than 8.  Perhaps just in the second grade grade or so, when I was sent to the Principal's office along with another classmate for fighting on the playground.  There we waited for our parents' arrival.

As I recall, the fight began when I got the better of the other kid while playing Tether Ball.  Seems I was able to control several games by swatting the ball downward causing it to fly high above his head for the wins.  The other kids were laughing all the while until. . .  he attacked me.  But, again, I got the better of him.

On the ride home, Mama said something like, "Now son.  Never start a fight (which I didn't), but always be ready to finish one (which I did).

Not long after, I challenged my Mama about why I was never allowed to stay up late or do the things "all my other friends got to do."  And my Mama told me that no one should be allowed to do everything they want.  And Mama said, "As our Lord found out through Adam and Eve, we will the wrong decision."

Mama's lessons learned that have molded me to be me through this very day.
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I am I; and you are you

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I love history.  Any kind of history.  But especially my history.  Because through an understanding history, one can obtain a general idea of the future.

This blog began as a journal nearly six years ago.  I created it for me, to study me and to learn how I came to be me, and why I am I.  It has revealed many of my life's experiences which define who I am.  I understand now why God gives us a lifetime full of experiences, challenges and decisions.  And it was those decisions that have molded me into me, and as time continues there will be many more experiences and decisions to be made.

The blog has since evolved into discussions on politics and ethics, and as it did, the readership increased.  But I'll talk more about that another time. 

Right now, I want to return to history.  My history.  Most of which directly involved me, and some of which involved encounters to others that I observed.  But make no mistake about them; every experience played a role in who I came to be.  So here are a few points to ponder, and perhaps you will understand why you are you.

If you ever went to bed hungry, did you then always clean your plate?  Remember the first time you were lied to; did you then also become a liar?  If you were bullied, did you then become a bully or vow to stand against them?  When you caught the winning touchdown pass, did you share your glory with the offensive line?  If someone stole you bicycle, did you then steal someone else's?  When you saw a friend crying, did you laugh at them or cry along side them?  When you saw a fight, did you break it up or join in?  If you learned that your classmate died in an auto accident, did that encourage you to wear a seat belt?  When you failed that test, did you cheat on the next one?  When you killed a sparrow with your first BB gun, did you kill another?  When you lost your best friend, did you vow to make another, or morn them forever?  And when you stumbled on that last hurdle, did you get up and finish the race?

If anyone gave thier unconditional love to you, would you love them?

You know, whether or not I encountered these situations, or how I reacted to them is not important to you.  But they are to me.  Because moments such as these are what defines me.  And I know that.  And that is what is important to me.

So, who are you?
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