- Your idea of waxing off about some old grey bush, is your party’s election strategy.
- You think having a colin powell movement is a normal, lower G. I. activity.
- You think your god, your truth, and your ideas are the only ones which are empirically righteous.
- You believe in controlling what other humans eat, smoke, drink, feel, think, and do.
- You’re easily persuaded to follow, like, thumbs-up and reiterate something you have no understanding of in the first place–but think it makes you look smart.
- You ignore facts in front of your nose, in favor of fables you pull out of your ass.
- You think male babies are born with an inherently dirty penis requiring a nip and tuck–right off the bat.
- You’re offended by a mother’s nakedness, unless it’s covered in shame or mutilated by blind surgeons.
- You think government has all the answers to questions you’ve forgotten to ask yourself.
- You think a Baddoodle is something I left in my pants (‘enlighten up, please).
Let’s talk about diversity. The idea of celebrating it. Although I was raised and mind-fucked by a fundamentalist’s dogma from age thirteen to nearly thirty, I finally allowed myself the freedom to evolve and think outside the box I was given as a child. I don’t celebrate that ideaology any longer–nor any ideaolgy which by its own omission, discounts all other viewpoints–because that my friend, is just not nice.
Still, I’ve never met a race, religion, cuisine, location, art form, animal, or idea I didn’t first give due respect to before I chose to like, love, eat, visit, try, pet or consider–before making judgment. I’m willing to try anything once, twice even, before spewing it all on the carpet. But good judgement is just that–seeing things for what they are and being able to reject that which is damning to our innate, human spirit.
Discrimination is a good thing to exercise at times. We either choose what we put in our mouths, or we must let someone else force-feed us. Likewise, we either choose what we put into our thoughts, or we find that the empty loft upstairs is beginning to clutter itself with someone else’s horse-shit.
I know what it’s like to believe that my way was the only highway to travel. Now, I’m willing to acknowledge that I know very little. And that’s okay. I’m less likely now to try and influence someone else with my vast knowledge of the unknowable.
What seems undeniable however, is that we all need food, shelter, love, compassion, purpose, hope, dignity, empathy, community, sunlight, water, sleep, family. These are the things I choose to celebrate.
I’m weary of holding my tongue for fear of self-appointed, politically correct mind-Nazi’s, who hurl venomous darts with knee-jerk emotion.
John Lennon was not a god, but he scribed some goddamn righteous lyrics when he wrote Imagine. You see, diversity is what’s killing our planet right now. It’s difficult to celebrate every, divergent notion on earth, without shooting our proverbial feet off. Not everyone thinks life on Earth is precious and worth protecting. Not everyone thinks peace is an option. Not everyone believes in freedom of, and or from, religion; or the right to speak as you please, without being exterminated.
Coke’s infamous it’s the real thing commercial about wishing to teach the world to sing in perfect harmony BS, was just that. It was Coke’s way of lining their pockets with a global income, and the inside of our mouths with cavities. It succeeded marvelously on both fronts. Today, we’re still handing our wealth over to large, inhumane corporations, while subsisting with great, empty holes inside ourselves for buying into it.
We all have notions of anger and hate which can swell at times–like some ancient tidal chart in the ocean of our collective DNA. But it’s not in our interest to let these primal urges control us today. Humanity is much too old to be pissing itself and ranting like a spoiled brat at the checkout.
I abhor being preached to, but sometimes it’s worthwhile to read a sign of caution before accelerating through crowded intersections. Were I called to preach today, my sermon might go something like this:
“Tell your god to go away. Don’t blow it up, just blow it off. Quit your cult and hug your child. Eat a sandwich and recycle your rubbish. Breathe and exhale before you kill something–see how YOU like holding your breath forever. Give stuff away until it hurts and you need help–it will come back to you, if you exercise some trust in the universe. And lastly, try to ignore the impulse to provide an answer to everything you don’t understand.”
Just some thoughts I’ve had lately.
I’m thankful you’re here. Happy Thanksgiving my friend. Peace to you.