I'm On It

There is a phenomenon that is unique to humans. I’m sure it has a scientific name or behavioral pigeonhole. I don’t know the official name but I know we see it every day… in the news, in each other. People hate to give things up. The longer an idea or tradition has been entrenched, the more people will grasp at it and claw at you to stop you from trying to change it. Such as it is with the nature of power, social position, or guns. The longer a politician, has been in their job, the harder they will fight to keep it. Often going far beyond their original charge to do so. People will fight to keep “The War on Christmas” from overtaking them, even though all of the trappings of Christmas with the exception of the manger scene are Pagan and Christmas itself was ILLEGAL in the US up until about 150 years ago. Too much Popery, not enough real Bible. So, yeah… Christmas with the founding fathers? Didn’t happen. So too, is our fascination with guns. It goes back to the image of the...

Editor's note - this isn't true - not a word of it. It's just made up to annoy you. Take it as you will. As I was shopping today, I overheard a conversation between two people with whom I shared my table in the Food Court. These two gentlemen agreed with each other whole-heartedly. "A sales clerk had the nerve, the audacity to wish me "Happy Holidays." It's "Merry Christmas" you snot rag! My ancestors didn't come to this country, fight in it's wars, pay its taxes and help to build this great melting pot, only to have some mixed-race teenager, (I thought she was black at first, but I don't know... a lot of cream in that coffee, if you know what I mean), denigrate the Lord's birthday with that secular crap. We have to keep the Christ in Christmas. It's none of your business that I won't be working in a soup kitchen, or helping out at a children's hospital or tending to the poor, or any of that tree-hugging nonse...

Rage. Rage against the dying of the light. It's arguable that Dylan Thomas was talking about death at long last in this poem. But, rage has moved in the modern era from the end result of provocation to the first response. This is bad for us. When one is quick to argue, quick to jump to conclusions or quick to blame, that rage snuffs out joy like two wet fingers on a candle's flame. That rage, that small, petty, I'm-better-than-you rage fills us, blocking out even the possibility for warmth or reconciliation. We must wait to "cool down" before we can even consider such a thing. It is not only our impending mortality that conjures up Fear's ugly little brother. In fact, it would seem that things with much less gravity can ignite the flame of wrath as it bubbles just beneath our surfaces. An extra few seconds- seconds!- waiting in traffic, the failure of another human in living up to our expectations or any opportunity where one of us "gets" to ...