Monday, September 25, 2017

Stephen King Gets IT Right

The new film version of Stephen King's novel It captivates viewers with adorable children and horrible apparitions, but the real demons that torment kids are clearly identified, despite the cryptic title. The spawn from hell are broken dysfunctional families (and they are legion). Russian novelist Leo Tolstoy put it thus: "All happy families are alike; each unhappy family is unhappy in its own way."

Yes, clowns can be creepy. Still, the corruption of the nest where humans are hatched clips far more wings than childhood party favors gone bad. Barney was also kind of creepy. Yet, it was mostly neglect that pushed a generation to suckle icky purple milk from the saggy purple breast of a cheesy purple friend. What the hell am I saying? A mom and dad who love each other and devote themselves to their offspring is a rare and priceless gift.

That isn't just the lifetime observation of a deeply-flawed sage. The U.S. government National Incidence Study of Child Abuse and Neglect found the rate of maltreatment for children living with both biological parents to be a tiny fraction of the rate for all other family structures. Plus, that merely includes the traditional abuse. Children programmed to hate a gender by a twisted single parent or abducted from a devoted single parent who has no help and only two hands are not included in the childhood misery stats.

What is the IT that cannot be named? While media terrify black folks with ghostly shrouded klansmen or toothless cackling nazis and NFL millionaires whine that racist cops are the blight across America's landscape, reliable statistics show the violent spawn of dysfunctional black families pillaging, raping, and murdering their black neighbors in epidemic proportions. Yet, it's not a black thing. From white Appalachian addicts to brown Mexican narcos, the spawn of hellacious homes terrorize us all, while countless shattered and scrambled families try desperately to give their children some semblance of the picket-fence paradise-lost dream of a happy nurturing home.

Stephen King´s It should be reclassified as nonfiction. There may not be any demonic tragic clown named Pennywise living beneath the streets of one North American town, but there is a destructive tragic folly living on the streets of every North American town: the failure to view healthy families as society's big project. We are penny wise but so pound foolish.

If you wanna change the world, shoulder the Herculean task of constructing a great marriage and family then shine that light to everyone else. Not man or woman enough? Then join us self-important multitaskers striving to fix the world while denying the real problem we have little solution for. We have met the enemy, and IT is us. I've now written my first horror lit. I give it an under-13-only rating, because children can relate to it instinctively, but I fear it may be too traumatizing for adults.

Thursday, September 7, 2017

Washing the Blood Off My Hands

I've had blood on my hands twice in 24 hours. I was dining last night with author Rick Skwiot in a Brazilian churrascaria when the first blood spilled. We were just finishing our salads. I dipped broccoli, carrots, tomatoes and mushrooms in succulent olive oil swirled with balsamic vinegar, which looked like the separated red cells and plasma that flowed from the spear piercing of the crucified Jesus. Rick queried about the wine list for more sangre de cristo, but they offered only Sangre de Toro. Not good enough to wash away sins, but good enough to wash away the memory of sins.

Monday, July 31, 2017

Curvaceous Rides and Straight Razors

We weave and whirl amidst shaggy green mountains. Fern-draped springs cascade on the left and bottomless cliffs drop off on the right. We’re flung back and forth. A gray squiggle highway ascends the knobby spine of the Americas through dense Sierra Norte wilderness. Our van abruptly halts.

Friday, July 7, 2017

Exploring a Jungle Devoid of Wild Animals

Nothing smells as fresh and fertile as cool rain in the jungle - except for my woman, but we are not discussing her right now. Dripping and cascading from every direction, rinsing and polishing the leaves to a shiny vibrant green from the treetops downward. A rainforest canopy is Doctor God's version of an oxygen tent. I'm a lucky permanent resident in this sanitarium.

Friday, June 30, 2017

A Declaration of Liberating Dependence

Since no man is an island entire of itself, the July 4th American Declaration of Independence cannot have been absolute, but rather declared a certain type of independence that people must understand correctly to ever celebrate correctly. Beer and BBQ ain't near enough. Like my mother's ancestor Benjamin Franklin, I've thrown in my lot with uncouth savages in a brave new world (the Mexican jungle), so I know a little about giving up refined society for liberty and I want to help others have a bold American heart regardless of where your butt may currently reside. Can ya dig it?

Friday, June 16, 2017

Maybe America Should Just Divorce

California and New York (or Sodom and Gomorrah as they're called by their Christian names) are a different world from middle America, and it may be time for the barely united states to divorce over irreconcilable differences. This could be a good thing. I'll never forget the day a Bible belt woman told me that she didn't know where I could find a pub and wouldn't help me locate the devil's brew if she did. Okay, sorry I asked. Nor the night when a festival crowd in my native California glared at me as an irredeemable hater, because I softly declined a transgender's bullying insistence to dance. Unity isn't always desirable or possible.

Thursday, May 18, 2017

Next Book: Primeval Woods & Primordial Stones

A crocodile thrashes beneath me. The squawking and dripping of the rainforest where Mel Gibson filmed Apocalypto and Sean Connery filmed Medicine Man surround three sides of my cozy wood cabin that overhangs a lily-choked shore and overlooks a mist-shrouded isle broadcasting monkey chatter across the glassy lake. It’s Christmas in the jungle. The lush fertility extends to a curvaceous young form peacefully dozing under the blanket beside me and deeply inhaling from the cool oxygenated air. I recall a perfect day.

Monday, May 8, 2017

Eastern and Western Genital Mutilators

Deep within a cave on a remote mountain sits a bushy-bearded Asian jihadist who shares the outlook of a bushy-underarmed American feminist ensconced within the safe space of a modern university. Both are proud genital mutilation advocates. Seeming a world apart, they nevertheless carry the same sacred fire from down below, with the road to hell paved by their culturally-approved "good" intentions. Let me explain why all moral folks must reject such patriarchs and matriarchs. This is not for the squeamish.

Friday, April 21, 2017

How to Construct a Contented Life

My smug happiness annoys some people. That's fair. Their neurotic misery sometimes annoys me. Newsflash: I'm not going to give up my inappropriately bubbly bliss to make whiners more comfortable. Not gonna happen. Yet, I do feel a moral obligation to reveal those secrets of contentment I unintentionally and undeservedly stumbled upon. Here goes.