Get Me One

Dude, I have got to get me one of these! I don't mean to be an ad man, but you can find out how here. If, by chance, you are looking to buy me a President's Day gift this year, this would be what I want. It would also serve for St. Patrick's Day, Easter, Victoria Day (for you Canucks out there), St. Jean Baptiste Day (Quebec) or even Pioneer Day or Bastille Day (let them eat cake!). Any excuse for a new little toy!

They Always Come In Threes

The master plunged down to his knees As strength gushed swiftly from his limbs. His proud possessions drifted by While tears streamed freely, proud and grim. The prize snatched by the dragon then. The master grieved, as well his wife. The fluid seeped and filled the ground, But stabbed him as a long-blade knife.

A new vat graced the cryptic base
And dosh in thousands then changed hands.
His checkbook light, his spirits low,
He paid the man from foreign lands.

The master set upon his couch,
The sweat from labor spanned his brow.
A shriek he caught, it was his mate.
He thought, "Good Gosh, what is it now?"

Descended now to cellar still
The master breathed a weighty sigh.
"What do you want, my stunning bride?"
He held before her forlorn eye.

"There is no heat," she said with ache,
"The motor's dead, what do we now?"
The master stooped and peered inside,
But fixing it he knew not how.

Sir Edwin came and sold them new.
Forsooth he seized four hundred more.
"The poorhouse will be our next home,"
He thought, ere Ed trod out the door.

The master's wife laid down her pate
As heat anew filled hearth and bone.
The master groaned and rested, too,
"If this keeps up we'll need a loan."

He shut his eyes and clutched her hand,
And stroked her elbow and her knees,
Then settled down and sighed and said,
"I hope these things don't come in threes."

POSTSCRIPT

A few days passed, the master dreamed
And worked and slept, his visage beamed.
With all things good inside his world,
All things were right, or so it seemed.

But fate can kill the sweetest thought,
Can waste the world, or so we're taught.
He came from work, his wife in tears,
What could be wrong? They hadn't fought.

What had he done? Why did she cry?
What did I do? He asked her why.
She look through tears and held his hand.
"Computer data doesn't lie."

"I've run the stats and run the sums.
I've seen the end, my heart it numbs.
I cannot lie, it makes me sad.
Beware the day, the taxman comes."

---------------------

Not So Much

I'm a cyclist. Not a great one. Not even a good one. But a cyclist nonetheless.

For the last 15 to 20 years, if you're a cyclist, you look up to Lance Armstrong. I mean, there was no one better in the whole world. Seven Tour de France titles? Come on. No one else had even won six. And he did it in consecutive years!

Since I read his book, "It's Not About The Bike", back in 2002, I have been a big fan. Having lost my dad to cancer, I marveled at Armstrong's comeback from the disease and was thrilled when he won each of his seven championships. I kept track of the Tour on my PC and shed tears of pride when he won. I even bought his bracelets and wore them for months on end.

The year before, in 2001, I watched with amazement as he and Jan Ullrich ascended L'Alpe-d'Huez. Armstrong had a lead of a couple of bike lengths when he turned and faced Ullrich and gave him what's now known as "The Look". "I'm leaving you in the dust," he seemed to say, "and there's nothing you can do about it." Unbridled, raw talent mixed with pure machismo.

And performance enhancing drugs.

After years of vehemently denying he had doped, it now appears that Lance is set to confess to the world that he cheated. Instead of shedding tears of pride and joy like I did in the years between 2002 and 2007, now I feel like shedding tears of pain and disgust.

I'm not one for cheaters. As with Roger Clemens, I stood behind Lance through the thick of it, never daring believe that he was lying to me and trusting that he was telling the truth, no matter what anyone else said. I chose to believe him, to take him at his word. Now that trust has been betrayed and I feel like I've been punched in the gut.

Honestly, I almost wish he'd kept it to himself. I was blissfully ignorant. Despite what everyone else said about him, I still trusted him. Now, not so much.

I've done some soul searching during the last few days and here's what I've found. Lance did a lot of good in this world. He's raised millions of dollars for cancer research. I know, I've heard the same reports you probably have, that most of that money went to pay staff and to buy advertising for cancer awareness. I still think he's done a lot of good.

Let's look at the facts. A lot of average Joe's like me have taken up cycling and gotten in better physical shape, at least in part because of him. Many, many people say that they've been cured of cancer because of his efforts. Who knows how many lives he's saved during his 41 years? A person who's done that kind of good can't be all bad, can they?

So, I have to ask myself, "why confess now?" Why tell we millions of fans who supported you, and supported Livestrong, that you've been pulling the wool over our eyes for years? Why not just keep it to yourself? I mean, I touted your skills for years! I cheered you on in every single race! I even bought a cotton-picking yellow jersey!

Here's what I think.

First, doping aside, Lance is still an amazing athlete. Most athletes of his caliber have extremely healthy egos. Being out of the public eye is a blow to their psyche. Look at Tiger Woods as a case in point. I liked him, too.

Second, Lance will be 42 in September. Father Time is coming up the drive toward his front door. How many years of competitive life do you think Lance has left in him? His lies notwithstanding, Lance is no idiot. He recognizes this, too.

Third, a lifetime ban is a loooong time. I think he realizes that if he can somehow reduce that virtual death sentence he might be capable of remaining a celebrity a little while longer.

Fourth, Lance can't compete in any of the USADA-sponsored events he loves so much. No Tours, no triathlons, no mountain-biking competitions, no nothing. He's done. He can't compete.

When you take all four reasons together, I think Lance thinks he can make this ugly situation go away just like he has done with everything else in his life. For years he figured that if he told a lie long enough, it would somehow become true, so that ugliness went away. Now he realizes that won't work after all, so tell the truth and make it go away. The American public is dumb. We'll forgive anyone. We reelected Bubba, didn't we?

I'd seriously love to think that Lance just wants to come clean, but I don't. I'd like to think he wants to clear his conscience, but I don't. I want to like Lance, but I don't.

Still, it will be interesting to see what unfolds for him in the next little while.

But seriously, I think I'll pay attention now and save myself a few bucks when the book comes out.

And you know it will.

--------------------

Keep It Pure

Let's get the disclaimer out of the way right from the beginning:

When it comes to baseball, I'm a traditionalist, and maybe even somewhat of a purist.

I believe in Lou Gehrig and Mickey Cochran. I didn't like it when they put lights on Wrigley Field. I don't like the DH. Artificial turf is a sin against nature.

I believe in doubleheaders, day games, wool uniforms and stirrups. I liked knowing that I could root for Mickey Mantle his whole career. Throw in some apple pie, a Chevrolet and a hot dog or two and you've got America at its absolute finest.

And while we're at it, let's play two.

Baseball is the greatest sport in the world. It's the only sport in which a fan could realistically believe that the players of yesteryear could have been better than the players of today.

And that's where my real subject comes in.

This week the Baseball Writers of America failed to vote anyone into the Hall of Fame. And for my money, that's exactly what they should have done.

Let's face it. A lot of these guys are cheaters, plain and simple. They may have been exonerated in a court of law, but come on. You and I both know that they took PEDs and the rest is just spit and giggles. Marian Jones kept saying she was clean, too, but it didn't make it so. Now we all know better.

We all know better when it comes to some of these guys, too. Bonds? He's guilty people. He took PEDs and we all know it. If you knew him in real life, instead of this sham world in which everyone pretends to believe that your head can grow like that after you're already 30-years old, you would think he was a freak. NOBODY'S head grows like that! And his feet grew from a size 10.5 to a 13! Come on, folks. Let's get real.

Rocket? I used to be a big fan. He'd repented of being a part of Red Sox Nation to finally sidle up to the bar at the Evil Empire. I was happy when he was acquitted. I hoped he'd come back one more time. I even had a Roger Clemens action figure on my desk at work, for Pete's sake.

Now I believe he was guilty all along. He took PEDs. We all know he did. He can continue to affirm that he didn't, and we'll all pretend to believe him, but when it's all said and done, he's guilty.

Sosa? Same thing.

Palmeiro? Ditto.

McGwire? Yup.

Don't get me wrong. I believe there are some guys on this ballot who were clean. Craig Biggio for one. I don't think he's a first ballot Hall of Famer, but I think eventually he should be enshrined.

Jack Morris is another one. Not first ballot or second, and maybe not even 14th, but an eventual Hall of Famer, sure.

But those who took PEDs, in my opinion, should NEVER get into the Hall of Fame. Here's why.

Think back to high school. You're sitting in Mrs. McKee's Algebra II class and you're starting to sweat. Your buddy, who sits next to you, is always getting better grades than you. You're taking a test and you don't know some of the answers. You want to get good grades, too. So what do you do? You let your eyes wander to your buddy's paper. You copy his answer. You cheat.*

The only trouble is that Mrs. McKee is expert at catching cheaters, and before you can write down "Associative Property" she's grabbed your paper, torn it in half and ordered you to the Principal's office. Once there, the principal tells you it's your third offense.

You are summarily suspended from school.

Other than your parent's boot sticking out of one of your orifices, what do you now reasonably think you can expect? Election to the National Honor Society? Nomination as Student Body President? Your number retired on a banner in the gym? Um, no.

What you can expect is an uphill road. No elections. No enshrinements. You get kicked out of school.

And if you're studying at West Point, you're gone for good. Don't come back and don't let the door hit you on the way out.

Same thing here. Reward these guys for cheating and you validate that cheating. You tell kids that it's all right to cheat, as long as you excel at whatever you do. The Hall of Fame, and America, would never recover.

What do we do with these players, some of whom were the "greatest players in their generation"? I don't know. I wish I did. Do you invalidate all of their numbers? Do you alter the record book? Make Hank Aaron and Roger Maris the greatest home run hitters of all time...again? I don't know. But that's the way I would lean.

One thing I do know. Cooperstown is a beautiful, small town jam-packed with rustic America. There are picket fences, houses with wrap-around porches and a beautiful, glimmering lake. When you visit, it's almost like you go back in time to when all was right in the world. It's filled with what's right with America.

So is the Hall of Fame. Let's keep it that way.

If Bonds, Sosa, Rocket and their ilk want in the Hall of Fame, they can get in the same way I do.

Buy a ticket.

* Here's my second disclaimer. I didn't cheat. I knew plenty who did, but I'm clean. Hmm. That may sound a little like someone we've been talking about.

---------

Let Your Light So Shine

One of the little angels killed in last Friday's awful shooting in Newtown, CT, was 6-year old Emilie Parker. To the left is her picture.

She was an artist who always carried around her crayons and paper, just in case there was some artistic inspiration that hit her. She had two younger sisters, and from what I heard her grief-stricken father say, they always turned to her for comfort. Her dad was teaching her Portuguese and one of the last things she said to him was, "Eu te amo", which means, I love you. She and her family moved from Ogden, UT to CT less than a year ago when her dad accepted a new job. They're going to take her body back to UT for burial.

There are a lot of other stories about these beautiful children. One could write a book about the heroes who tried to save them. I weep for them. I literally weep when I read about them or hear a story on the television about them.

I also hear of those who have dropped everything to go to CT to be with these suffering people. I heard last night about "comfort dogs" who were taken to Newtown so that grieving families could pet them and hug them. I heard about three people who drove 1000 miles just to give hugs to the survivors.

I also watched as the good people of this country came together to support those who lost loved ones in the shooting in CO some time ago. I have watched members of my own ward and stake go to New Jersey and New York to help those who lost so much to Hurricane Sandy. My heart has been warmed as I watched the nation band and rally together to give aid, comfort, money, time and effort to those in need.

I've even read stories about how NFL players this past weekend wrote the names of the CT victims on their shoes, and how the normally stringent uniform police of the NFL have looked the other way. Yes, there is a lot of good in this world, if you watch for it.

But now it's time to stop watching. The time has come to put the doctrine of Christ to the test, to put my beliefs to action. How can I help these families? How can I be more like the Savior and show Him how much I love Him? By doing something!

I don't propose driving all the way to CT, but I do propose donating to some of these causes and by being active in my own community. For instance, Emilie's parents are going to take her back to UT for burial this week. They are short on money to do so. A fund has been started in her name on Facebook to which I can donate. It's called the Emilie Parker Fund and is located here.

And there are others. Some of them are:

• Dawn Lafferty Hochsprung Memorial Fund, CT Teachers Credit Union, P.O. Box 2121, Waterbury, Conn. 06722
• Friends of the Engel Family Fund
• Noah's Ark of Hope Fund
• If you really do want to drive to CT and volunteer, you can call (800) 203-1234. That number will get you in touch with someone who can help.
• Sandy Hook School Support Fund, c/o Newtown Savings Bank, 39 Main St., Newtown, Conn. 06470.
• Newtown Memorial Fund, P.O. Box 596, Botsford, Conn. 06404

There are others, too I'm sure, but the point is this: it's time to let our light so shine, to put the Spirit of Christ and Christmas to action. Let your influence be felt in this world. After all, it's our responsibility to leave this world a better place than it was when we got here!

Emilie sure did.

------------

Put The Man Back Together

I learned of last Friday's killings at Sandy Hook Elementary School as I was walking back to my desk after a nice lunch out. A vendor friend of mine told me about it as he received an alert on his phone. As were you, I'm sure, I was deeply affected by it. I even shed tears on several occasions.

I feel the worst, though, for those who are left behind to pick up the pieces of their shattered lives. I don't worry about the kids who died as much as I do about their parents and families. The kids are fine, nestled safely in the arms of Him who loves us all. But the families must now make sense of this whole sordid thing, and many children who were not shot will be scarred for the rest of their lives. Who knows what terrible thoughts were bred by this one person's actions?

Early on I thought, "Only a coward would do such things and then take his own life. Only a coward." To some extent I still feel that way. A coward will do things and then fail to stick around to face the music, the consequences of those actions.

But over the weekend I've reflected on this again and again. I've watched the pundits and their words of "wisdom" and have listened to all of their arguments for this and for that. I've heard them argue about gun control. I've heard the President say that "we can't tolerate this anymore." I've heard that it's the media's fault. I've heard it from 101 different angles.

But after sitting in our High Priest Group meeting yesterday and listening to the lesson, I've come to my own conclusions. Take it for what it is, my opinion.

First, this is NOT a gun control issue. YES, get assault rifles and such out of the hands of the average citizen. I can see that. No one needs those for hunting or anything else. They were made for war, and last time I checked there isn't one going on in the United States.

I'm not a gun rights zealot by any stretch, (though I do possess my conceal permit) but I do believe in the Constitution. I believe it was a God-inspired document that unfortunately has seen much better days. But though it may have been weakened drastically in the last 30 years, the 2nd amendment is part of that document. Though it may have been meant for simpler time, the right to bear arms is still necessary...and MAY be even more necessary in years to come. But that's another issue altogether.

Second, this is not solely a media problem, though I do think that if it weren't all over your tv screen this kind of person might think twice before doing something so heinous. Having been in the media and having seen what goes on behind the scenes, I can empathize with those who believe the media glorify those who perpetrate such foul deeds. We have to know everything about them. We scrutinize their upbringing, the meds they were taking, the courses they took in high school and the fact that they wet the bed at night. Like John Wilkes Booth, those who do such things think they'll become famous and will be known forever, maybe even revered. I can see this, but still don't believe it's the media's fault.

Third, this is not only a mental health issue. Sure, there is something wrong with these people. How else could you go into an elementary school and start killing innocent children? Some screw somewhere is seriously too tight.

Fourth, this is not solely an education problem, either. Yes, we need to teach our children better. Yes, we need to help them understand the consequences of their actions. Yes, they need to know that they are responsible and NOT entitled to ANYTHING.

Nope. All of those are just symptoms. What this is is a LOVE problem, a turning to the Lord problem, a listening more to the adversary than obeying the commandments of the Lord problem.

Listen to what a prophet of God said regarding this.

"By following the teachings of the Lord, by turning unto Him and repenting of sin, by going about doing good, we may have peace and happiness and prosperity. If mankind will love one another, the hatred and the unkindness that have existed so much in the world will pass away." George Albert Smith

Did you just read what I did? Hatred and unkindness would pass away IF we will love one another. And how do we do that? Listen to the same man.

“This world is in a critical condition. War will not cease and the strife in this world will not end until the children of men repent of their sins and turn to God and serve Him and keep His commandments.”

So there's the answer to all of the unbelievably insane and sickening things that are happening now in our world.

• Repent of our sins
• turn to God
• serve Him
• keep His commandments

Sound like anything you've heard before?

Sound like something the Savior tried to teach 2000+ years ago and has been teaching through His prophets ever since? And people ask me why we could possibly need a prophet today. I guess this answers that question.

Listen to one more quote from President Smith.

“We are all under the obligation of making this world a happier place for our having lived in it."

You know what that tells me?

This Connecticut thing is MY problem.

The reason these things are happening is partially because of me. I need to get closer to my God. I need to serve Him better. I need to keep His commandments a little bit better. I need to make my influence felt in this world. Once I do that, at least part of the world will be a better place.

Years ago I heard a story about a man who was doing some work for his job from his home. His son was playing with his toys nearby and making a lot of noise, causing the dad to not be able to concentrate very well. Quickly flipping through a magazine he saw lying nearby, he tore out a page containing a picture of the earth taken from the moon. He tore it up into many small pieces and giving it to his son said, "I'd like you to put this puzzle of the world back together. When you do that, I'll stop working and will play with you." The son, anxious to have his dad play with him, accepted the "puzzle" and started working on it. The dad, thinking he'd have a good hour of quiet time ahead, settled back down to his work.

After five minutes the boy came back with the picture all put back together, and said to his dad, "I've got it all done, dad!" The father was greatly surprised and said, "Son, how did you do this so quickly?"

The son replied, "Well, I knew that putting the world back together would take me a long, long time, so I turned the page over and saw the picture of a man. I just put the man back together and the world took care of itself."

So it is in this situation. If I can put the man back together correctly, this world will heal itself, and all of the hatred and unkindness will pass away.

You see, it's not gun control.

It's not education control.

It's not media control.

It's self control.

---------------------------------

An Evening With John Fascenda

From distant kingdoms folk beat long
To beam their visage dark and black.
Wrought cages 'round their crowns they bore,
And armor to defend their back.

A pleasing land of tundra numb,
Of dreams before the half-shut eye
Of booty since collected, n'er
For several years, now glorify.

Still beat the feet of one so proud.
Four times the prize had ridden home,
Just to be grabbed and born from thence.
For this the chieftan lord did roam.

The verdant green of pastures lay
Athwart his back and fore his breast.
The missile settled in his grip,
A grimaced face by priests long blessed.

The lines were drawn, the battle raged
And lo, a battered colonnade.
One chieftan fell and carted off
Beneath the tattered flags they made.

Their blood upon the pitch was spilt,
And sweat and tears the trenches filled.
The honored mud from ages past
Laid dripping from their iron will.

Until the hour when bomb was hurled
Through air and space and downy flake,
No man could choose the victor there,
Nor battered pawn their hope forsake.

But once the fell advance was won,
Just one could wear the laurel crown.
The epic contest now complete,
Glist'ning spoils on sprinkled ground.

Disciples gazed, gripped with delight.
Guerdon prize raised above the rest.
With cracking voice the chieftan praised,
"The Forty-Niners are the best!"

The Stream That Runs Through My Brain

The ducks swim faster than I can run, I bet. They have hoods on their heads. I guess that's why they call them hooded mergansers.

A new email! Oh, they want me to donate my blood. Yea, I don't think so. Why would I do that when it hurts and makes me feel woozy?

One time, while I was on my mission, my Argentine companion donated blood and thought he would be incapacitated for several days. I told him that wasn't true, that he'd only be weak for a little while. He didn't believe me, but I was proven right. I never did get along with him very much. He took a nap every day during lunch and we didn't work. What that has to do with the ducks, I don't know.

I wonder sometimes what's really inside my brain. I know there's grey matter and a big pink thing in there, but really, how does my brain work? A bird just flew past my window and another duck swam past on the shimmering pond. Geez! That light shines right in my eyes. I can barely see them. Maybe I should put down my blinds.

You know, the first time they took blood out of me, two little test tubes worth, I fainted and fell on the floor like a sack of old spuds. I awoke in the chair with a nurse hovering over me, rubbing the back of my neck and shoving an ammonia capsule up my nose. I learned from that experience and never watched them take it again. So far, so good. I'm not very good with the sight of blood. Makes me feel oogy.

I'd like to be more observant. Maybe I should take a class or something. I don't notice what people wear and I can't remember what I ate for lunch yesterday. I'll remember tomorrow what I eat today, though. Papa John's pizza with peperoncinies. Yea, baby!

What was that? Oh, just a car going by out in the parking lot. Quick! Look again! Nope, just a car.

That hole in my tooth is getting larger, I think. I can fit my tongue into it quite easily now. I'm too chicken to go to the dentist about it. I know they're going to want to yank a couple of teeth out of my head, or give me another root canal or two. I'm too much of a sissy to have to endure that again. I'll just have to die with it the way it is. I can see it now. Some day, thousands of years from now, some archeologist will dig me up, look at my mouth and think I'm a missing link.

That's what all of those ...

A helicopter! I wonder what he's doing flying around here. Looking for something, I bet. Maybe some dope. You know, it shows up purple from the air. Not sure why. I was in a helicopter once. Pretty fun to fly around like that. I'd like to learn to fly, but I'm poor and can't afford the lessons. Too bad. I would have make a great helicopter pilot.

What was I thinking about? Oh, yea. All of those "missing links" and huge skulls they find. Just normal people who had not-so normal deformities. They're not a different species or anything like that. I think if those guys knew that archeologists were digging them up and calling them missing links they would get a big kick out of it. "I'm just a regular guy with an abnormally large forehead, not some forerunner to modern man." I can hear the snickering now.

Squirrel!!

Maybe I should go into the lab and get some work done. The ducks are congregating. Whoa, there's another car parking in the lot. I wish I could park in that lot. It's right next to my window, for pete's sake. But no. I have to park in the back and walk a half mile to my cube when I could walk about 25 feet. Who is that getting out of the car? Just some guy. He can't see me look at him. I could make faces at him and he'd never know. The windows are too reflective.

Wow, how many ducks are there? Hmm, one, two, three, four, five, six, seven...

Who is that that just walked by my window? Just some guy. I should really get some work done. Drink some water. It's good for you. My lips are chapped. I guess I'm not drinking enough.

What do I have to do tonight? Take Hannah to dance class, maybe. Ha! Don't have to get on the treadmill, though, because I'll go to basketball instead. I've got to find more referees for the stake season coming up. I don't want them calling too many games on a Saturday.

Only another 55 minutes left until I can eat my pizza. I love Papa John's pizza. Another email. This one's about our lab. Ok, ok! I'm going! Gotta get back to the lab. I should rewrite the ending to that story. It didn't make much sense.

Neither does this entry, I guess, but that's the way I think. Shaking my head won't make it any better, either.

And Kelly wonders why I keep forgetting things. There's just too much going on up there. All the new stuff won't fit.

-----------------

Open Letter

An Open Letter to the President of the United States

9 November 2012

Dear Mr. President...

Let me be honest about this right up front. I didn't vote for you in 2008 and I didn't vote for you in 2012. In fact, I'm a little amazed that ANYONE could vote for you either time. I shake my head and puzzle over it every day. With the economy the way it is, the unemployment rate the way it is, the national debt the way IT is, how could anyone vote for the guy who made it that way? That's you, by the way.

It's just unbelievable to me, frankly, given the fact that we had a very good man ready to take your seat in the Oval Office, who not only has business acumen but experience doing the job. He could have gotten us on the road to recovery. Simply put, Mr. President, if this had been a business you'd have been out on your butt long ago, pounding pavement like the other 20 million people who are out of work. And frankly, I think that's the way it should be.

But alas, here we Republicans are with the post-election blues, licking our wounds and hoping for a better day...soon. But though I do not like the outcome of Tuesday's election, I respect the democratic process and am grateful that we live in a land wherein we can cast our vote and let our voices be heard. If my guy lost (which he did), so be it. More props to the man who didn't.

Honestly, I wish you luck, Mr. President, and Godspeed. I hope you succeed in making this a better place to live. I really, really do. Even if it means electing another Democrat in four years, that's fine, as long as our country is back where it was meant to be...on top.

But doggone it, Mr. President, you work for me. I'm your boss. I, and the millions like me, are the ones to whom you should answer, not China, not Israel, not Iran or Iraq. Me! And though I didn't vote for you (either time), I'm still your boss.

So, accordingly, I'm going to do something I very rarely do. I'm going to give you a direct order.

Fix this economy!

Get people back to work!

Get us out of debt!

Tell the truth about Benghazi!

Work with the Republicans to clean up this fiscal cliff issue!

And when you get finished with all of that, quit bowing to foreign dignitaries! We're the United freaking States! We don't bow to anybody!

Do you understand me?

Now get to work and don't make me tell you again. Otherwise, I'm sure we'll all be seeing what the United States would have looked like had Jimmy Carter gotten a second term.

Very Sincerely,

Your boss
Stefan Schetselaar, et al.

-----------

Turn The Lights Out, The Party's Over

I didn't sleep very well last night. All night long I tossed and turned, nightmares of four more years dancing through my head. Four more like the last four.

Then I awoke and found, to my horror, that it wasn't really a nightmare at all...it was true.

Even the casual reader of my blog will know that I'm no fan of Barack Obama. I didn't vote for him in 2008 and I didn't vote for him in 2012. I've had signs in my yard both times touting the virtues of his opponents, and both times I've been disappointed and saddened by his victory.

Last time I kept my mouth shut.

This time, not so much.

As my good wife said to me this morning, "Did you really think we could get a good, decent, God-fearing man in the White House with the way our country is today?"

Exactly.

I retired last night before the final results were announced, but by 10:15pm it was already pretty apparent what those would be. I didn't see the "celebration" that took place in Chicago nor the disappointment etched on a good man's face. Both of those images were on the news this morning and caused me more pain than I was willing to endure. So I turned them off.

People were, I'm told, dancing in the streets celebrating this "victory". I'm happy that people enjoyed themselves, but let's take a quick look at what they had to be so happy about.

Millions of people are still out of work, many of them so disgusted with their prospects that they have quit looking.

The economy has lately shown signs of life, but it's still awful.

Gas prices are still high and the price of food has skyrocketed.

One in six children is still living in poverty.

Our good country is still $16 trillion dollars in debt and getting further into it every single day.

Same sex marriage became legal in another state, Maryland, as did legalized gambling.

Recreational use of marijuana was passed in Colorado and Washington.

Abortion is still legal in ALL states.

All great reasons to celebrate folks, but let me quote a VERY sage individual when I say that "it's too bad the country can't see that we needed REAL change by electing honest people and passing upstanding laws that are in our best interest and in line with our Maker's commandments."

Amen, brotha.

There are a couple of verses in the Book of Mormon that I think are very applicable to our current situation. They're located in the book of Mosiah, 29th chapter, 26th and 27th verses. It reads thus:

"Now it is not common that the voice of the people desireth anything contrary to that which is right; but it is common for the lesser part of the people to desire that which is not right; therefore this shall ye observe and make it your law—to do your business by the voice of the people.
And if the time comes that the voice of the people doth choose iniquity, then is the time that the judgments of God will come upon you; yea, then is the time he will visit you with great destruction even as he has hitherto visited this land."

Let me make myself perfectly clear here. I do not believe Barack Obama to be a wicked man. I think he really believes in what he's doing. Heck, I'll give him the benefit of the doubt and say that he even believes he's the answer to all of our problems. But good man or not, our country is in TERRIBLE shape right now, worse than it was 4 years ago and worse than it's been in a long time. We needed that "REAL change" NOW, not in four years when he's brought us to our collective knees. The way our country is headed, who knows if we will even be here in 4 more years?

Let's be honest. This country, as a whole, does not keep the commandments of the Lord. There are good people out there to be sure, even great people, who do keep them. But by and large, we do what we want to do and say what we want to say no matter what the Lord thinks about it. In fact, we've relegated the Almighty to something we do on Sunday morning, if we feel like it, and then forget about the rest of the week.

Well, now is the time to be frank. There's a storm gathering out there. Not a storm of wind and rain and snow, though I imagine He might use nature to prove His point as well as anything else. Rather, it's a storm of wrath and destruction.

I know. I sound like a neocon Bible-thumper. I sound like a guy standing out in the street in a robe with a long beard and a sign that reads, "The End Is Near!". Believe me, I get it, but as it turns out, I also embrace it.

See, the Book of Mormon also talks about that, stating that in the last days people will say, "Eat, drink and be merry for tomorrow we die and it shall be well with us." I see that all around me...today. Legal marijuana, trillions of dollars spent every year, a ruler that fiddles while Rome burns.

All I have to say to that is this:

Better end the celebration a little early tonight, fellas, 'cause the Father of this family is on His way home and he's going to be pretty ticked off that you threw a party while He was away!

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