Wednesday, September 28, 2011

Can Yankee Girl Overcome Ties to Hillbilly Mob?

Cue the Dueling Banjos tune…..

"In short, a Hill-Billie is a free and untrammelled white citizen of the south, who lives in the hills, has no means to speak of, dresses as he can, talks as he pleases, drinks whiskey when he gets it, and fires off his revolver as the fancy takes him." ["New York Journal," April 23, 1900]

As the fundamental truth of the Circle of Life dictates – your past eventually catches up with you. Confession time – I was born into the Hillbilly Mob, but for the past 50 years have been in the Hillbilly Protection Program (HPP for those of you who, like me, prefer acronyms).

My mother, God rest her soul, passed away in 2010 and took, along with her southern accent that she wasn’t able to tame in 78 years, to the grave with her one-half of my familial blood ties to the Hillbilly Mob. We’re not talking Hatfields and McCoys here – no, no, this mob is much more insidious, with such hillbilly-esk names as Papa Joe, Billyparks and BudW (pronounced dub-ya, of course).

My cover was blown earlier this week when I received a call from Billyparks (that’s how he said it, like it was all one word), informing me that Papa Joe (my biological father – who I have had very little contact with over the past 50 years) had suffered a major stroke, was in hospice, and not expected to make it thru the week. This was actually sad news to me as he was a major player in bringing me into this world and as such I would not wish him a painful and traumatic transition from this life to the next, so I was sorry to hear that he was in such bad shape.

After the initial bearing of the bad news , Billyparks, who is Papa Joe’s best friend as well as his ex- brother-in-law by marriage (he’s married to Geneva who is the sister of Papa Joe’s crazy codeine-addicted ex-wife Carolyn), went on to regale me with soap-opera contending real-lifeline (as opposed to a storyline which as its name indicates is a story and thus fiction, whereas a real-lifeline is true) details of what had been happening within the Transplanted-from-West-Virginia-to-Arkansas Hillbilly Mob over the past several years. These included, first and foremost, drinkin’, guns, trailers and the accompanying trailer trash of course, along with lying, cheating, deception, trespassing, vandalism, theft, fraud, terroristic threats, drug and alcohol addiction, a stolen van and two missing urns filled with the ashes of two dearly departed fringe mob members. (Hmmmm, perhaps I could have just stopped at trailer trash as that would have pretty much covered the rest.)

The cast of characters so far in this real-lifeline includes Marvi Joe (aka Papa Joe), Billyparks, The Misses (Geneva), Crazy Codeine addicted Carolyn, Bud-dubya, Juanita (Marvi Joe’s sister and deceased wife of BudW), Markie (Crazy’s daughter), Jamie (Crazy’s son, who was adopted by Papa Joe), Laurie Ann and Joey (Papa’s other children from his second marriage – still don’t know anything about his second wife except she must be a drug addict too because according to Papa Joe and Billyparks, they are all drug addicts), and Kathy (my cousin, Juanita’s daughter) who for some reason seems completely out of place with such a plain name. Oh yeah, and then there’s Attorney Tom (don’t know his last name), Juice and Frankie (Frankie is of the female persuasion), and let’s not forget Cousin Paul from West Virginia – he was a state trooper you know, but he’s now got “the cancer.”

I’m not even sure where to begin to try to unravel this tale, but I’ll channel my inner-Maria and “start at the very beginning cuz it’s a very good place to start.”
My mother, God rest her soul, married Marvi Joe back in the 50’s. Their union resulted in two wonderfully fabulous children – me and my brother. Their marriage lasted 10 years before it was decimated by Joe’s drinking, irregular employment and unfaithfulness. Mom headed to the tundra with my brother and I, leaving Marvi to wallow in the mess he’d made. He made one half-assed attempt to win her back making the trek to the tundra to beg her forgiveness, renounce his errant ways, and reaffirm his undying love but I believe the smell of alcohol on his breath, coupled with his request for gas money to get him back home, firmly squelched any waivering thoughts she may have had on her decision to pursue divorce.

What actually occurred over the next 28 years before he searched me out in an attempt to reconnect, I cannot say for sure, but I do know he married again and sired two more children – a daughter and son – whom he ultimately was divorced from and headed back out on the road as a semi-truck driver for the Teamsters Union. (This is perhaps where the foundation for the Hillbilly Mob was formed.)

Tune in again, for the continuing saga………

Monday, June 20, 2011

The Devil is Alive and Well, and Living in My Bathroom Closet

A friend of mine and I were recently sharing our dieting horror stories, and I told her that I think the Devil has infiltrated my mind and body somehow, causing dieting mayhem to prove how easily I can be persuaded to veer off the course I know is right and fall right back into my old habits. I also told her that I had come to the conclusion that my scale must be broken as it continues to say I weigh much more than I’m certain I really do. She disagreed and said that her scale wasn’t broken, it just hated her and took great joy in making her miserable each morning. The scale hates her? Hmmm, I hadn't thought of that. Perhaps the devil hasn't infiltrated my mind and body, but just my scale! How brilliant and dastardly! Yep, the two adjectives that best describe Satan - not to mention he's a huge liar. I think she stumbled upon the answer - our scales are possessed by the devil who is continuously lying about our actual weight which causes us to stress out, give up, cave in, and binge. And more proof that my scale is possessed is the fact that every time I step on it, I feel like barfing green goo everywhere! Well, that's a relief - I don't have to throw out my scale or get a new one, I just need to find a holy man who's willing to perform an exorcism on it!

Thursday, March 18, 2010

Have you lunched in a food court lately? If not, urine for a big surprise!

I was having lunch with a good friend of mine several weeks ago in a food court when she says “Oh my God, look behind you, I think there’s a pee cup waving at us.” A what? A pee cup? What the hell is she talking about? At first I think she’s just saying something so ridiculous to get me to look away so that she can grab some of my lunch, or maybe spit in it (we’ve been friends a long time), so I just give her the “okay, have you just had a minor stroke or is this just the menopause talking” look and keep on shoveling my taco salad into my mouth. But she continues to gaze over my shoulder with a bewildered look. Within a few seconds that look turns to incredulous, and so now I have to look, even knowing that doing so could result in spit in my salad, or bits of brain if she indeed just had a stroke and her head exploded.

As I slowly turn my head toward the direction of the object of what now appears to be producing terror in my friends eyes, I see it. There, about 20 feet from me, working their way through the aisle of lunch time food grazers and gossips, is a 6 foot tall mascot type creature dressed like a lab tech, followed closely behind by an equally tall, walking, and waving, pee cup. You know, the cup the doctor gives you to pee in so they can test you for all kinds of hideous diseases? Or, the cup you get from the cops to verify that you were indeed intoxicated or high when they pulled you over for swerving all over the road and you claimed that you just took too much Sudafed? “Oh, and by the way officer, the Sudafed makes my breath smell like MGD - Light but seriously, I haven’t had a drop. Really, man, you can trust me.”

A pee cup! A walking, and yes, waving, pee cup who’s coming right up to our table as if to greet me like some long lost friend! As if I would want to shake hands with a pee cup! I kid you not, it had a lid on the top and a bunch of yellow color all around the bottom two-thirds of the round costume that was painted to look like swirling pee! Well, fortunately, it sloshed past our table and continued on its way through the skyway. We were left to only guess as to its purpose and what it could possibly be advertising. Neither of us could come up with any plausible explanation other than it was for some new diet because seeing it immediately caused you to loose your appetite.

Well, when I got back to my desk I e-mailed my daughter to describe this insane close encounter of the urine kind, and she responds “Oh yeah, that’s Petey P. Cup.” The thing actually has a name? Or am I the one who had a stroke and I’m now laying in a hospital bed somewhere in a coma? Seems her friend who’s a nurse told her about it, and in fact had received a toy replica of it. No way, says I, this is just too far out there even for the likes of someone like Jim Hensen who made millions out of a waded up ball of lime green yarn that he threw in a garbage can.

Well, it’s all true. And not only is there a 6 foot mascot, you can also buy the toy! Here’s the proof:

Petey P. Cup
Hi, I'm Petey P. Cup, official spokescup and mascot for Let me tell you a bit about myself:
· I was born in Bloomington, Minnesota on April 8, 2008
· Pokey the Syringe is a good friend of mine - he's a sharp (er, rather smart) guy!
· I enjoy helping with lab tests (urinalysis, drug testing, etc.) and attending various HealthPartners events
· When I'm not feeling the need to go, I enjoy just chilling at the clinic or watching TV shows such as Grey's Anatomy and ER
And here's his buddy Pokey the Syringe:
Hi, I'm Pokey the Syringe, Petey's sidekick syringe and mascot for Here is a sample of quick pricks about me:
· I was born in Bloomington, Minnesota on May 27, 2008
· Petey the Pee Cup has contracted me as his syringe specialist to help promote online patient services at
· I stay busy these days giving immunizations, drawing samples, attending various HealthPartners events and more
· In my free time outside of the doc's office I like to watch TV shows such as House and American Idol, go see live stand up comics (poking fun at people is great!) and I love to run - when Petey and I go out for a run he always jokes that he's not running with scissors, but he is running with a syringe

OMG! Just what every 5 year old wants to snuggle up with before they go to bed. The world had gone insane. I take back what I said in a previous blog regarding 2012 – the world really is coming to end!

Some pee and a prick – sounds like a really bad porn movie. Lord help us!

Wednesday, February 10, 2010

Blast from the Past

Recently, my friend, Mrs. Sparrow, had issued a couple of blog posts regarding people and events from her past. Her way past – 30 years ago! It started me thinking about my own past 30 years ago – where was I, who did I hang out with, what were my hopes and dreams? As I was cleaning out my closet this week, and pondering these thoughts, I came across one of those dreams from so long ago. The dream, or desire, was to be a writer. I found a folder at the bottom of my closet that contained all kinds of handwritten and typed pages of story ideas and outlines, character descriptions, dialogues, and many pages of partial stories. After reading through all this, I was left wondering what ever gave me the idea that I would be a good writer? Well, it was written 30 years ago, and I was very young and had hardly experienced much of my life yet. My literary education up to that point had consisted of Nancy Drew mysteries, Harriet the Spy, The Mixed Up Files of Mrs. Basil E. Frankweller, Archie comic books, required reading in high school, and Harlequin romance novels. So, although the stuff I came across wasn’t very good, I still found myself exhilarated reading it. Why? Because it brought back the excitement of conjuring up a story, experiencing the character’s lives as their story unfolds, and knowing you have the ability to tell the story in any time, place, situation with any personality, attributes or history you want. I realized that while I may not have been a very good writer, I still do have a desire to write. As I read through those long forgotten pages, I could feel myself getting excited about what I was gonna read on the next page and the next. I felt let down reading some of the only partially written stories because I found myself wanting to know what happened next. At the back of the folder I came across some typed pages merely titled “Chapter 1.” The story (well, actually only one chapter of a story) wasn’t that great, or even very original, and was so obviously written during my Harlequin Romance period, and yet I felt strangely proud of my attempt and even found myself wishing there was more to the story. I wanted to know what happened next. Maybe someday I’ll finish it. For now, I’m going to post that lonely little chapter for my own enjoyment at seeing it in print, or for the amusement of anyone who reads it.

Chapter 1

Joanna sat perfectly still in her seat as he approached the podium. Could it really be him? she wondered to herself. It had been almost three years since she had last seen him but the scar he had left on her heart was still raw and blistering. She focused her attention on him as he began to speak. His voice still had a way of causing her heart to beat a little faster. She could feel that yearning starting to invade her body. She pulled herself upright in her chair and sat perfectly erect in an attempt to erase those thoughts of how he had once affected her. How he had destroyed her dreams. How foolish she had been. As she straightened out her skirt her eyes were drawn to the charm bracelet she wore on her wrist and to the gold orchid charm that still hung there. “I should have gotten rid of that years ago,” she scolded herself, and promised to toss it out as soon as the seminar was over. If she lived through it, she thought feeling the panic rising in her throat. He’d given her that bracelet on their last night together. He said he had picked out the charm because it reminded him of her, “wild, unique and a rare find.”

Three years ago she was assigned to do a layout for Pacific Cruise Lines. It had been the first cruise she’d ever been on. She was only 23 but an aspiring and promising photo journalist. Upon boarding the ship, her camera was immediately drawn to the tall, rugged looking man standing on the bridge. Sexy. Whew! She didn’t know a thing about him, had never seen him before in her life, but sexy was the word that popped into her head. At the same moment, he turned and stared directly back at her. She was happy she had the camera to use as a mask to hide her very revealing face.

Almost before the ship left the harbor he was standing beside her and introducing himself as if he had every right to her attention. Brandon Cole. He’d said it with such authority and sensuality that she just stood there gaping at him trying to remember how to breathe. There was a feeling of electricity passing between them the moment they met. It was so strong that it took all her power to stop herself from ripping her clothes off and demanding he carry her off to bed. Little did she know at that moment, he was having the exact same thoughts only he wasn’t trying to fight them at all.

They were inseparable for the rest of the cruise. They swam, ate, drank, danced and talked the days and nights away. They went ashore to all the ports of call. Spent days window shopping, trying new foods and visiting all the places of interest. Brandon seemed to know a little bit about everything. He was fascinating and she was captivated. They spent the evenings in each others arms. His kisses drugged her with an overwhelming yearning. No man had ever aroused her like Brandon. As his lovemaking increased, so did Joanna’s response and their last night together she gave up the fight and carried out that thought she’d had at their meeting and willing went to his bed.

She’d never been totally intimate with a man before, though she’d had her share of boyfriends. She’d just never been interested enough in any of them to let things go that far. She had imagined what making love would be like hundreds of times, but nothing in all her imaginings compared to the real thing. He was tender, but commanding, soft but passionate, slow but exhilarating all at the same time. God, he was good! He explored and tasted every inch of her body and she, his. She was terribly inexperienced, but she was a quick learner and his apparent desire infused her with the power that she would someday be able to match his passion and satisfy him as he did her. At that moment as she lay there in his arms being exquisitely ravaged, she actually believed there were going to be many somedays for them to spend like this. She told him that she loved him.

God, she told him that she loved him! Even now, the memory brought the stain of embarrassment to her cheeks. He never responded in kind but crushed her lips with his and carried her off once again to that secret world of wanton abandonment that only lovers understand. The next morning they would be returning home and back to their real lives. They had made no promises, no commitment. What transpired between them in those 3 weeks just sort of engulfed them and they allowed themselves to be swept along with it. But Joanna knew that she loved this man, as well as she knew her own name. She wanted to spend many more days and nights with him. She knew even though it had only been 20 days since they had met that was all the time she needed to know that he was meant for her, and she for him. Unfortunately, it soon became apparent that she was standing alone in her conviction.

The next morning she had awoken early, and returned to her room to get a gift she’d picked up for Brandon to remind him of their trip together. It was a hand carved gold frame with a picture of them both that the Captain had taken while they were dancing. There they were, wrapped in each others arms, her staring up at him and he down at her, both appearing madly in love with the other to any onlooker. The ship had docked and passengers were unboarding. She hurried back to Brandon’s cabin, tapped on the door and without waiting for an answer she stepped inside. She was surprised to find a tall, slender, silvery-blonde woman with striking blue eyes sitting on the edge of the bed where Brandon should be, she remembered bitterly. “How do you do?” asked the stranger. “I’m Mrs. Cole. Can I help you?”

Joanna was so shocked that all she could do was stand there and stare blankly back at the woman. Mrs. Cole? Brandon was married? She felt physically sick as the reality of the situation engulfed her. No wonder there were no words of love, promises or commitment. She dropped the picture on the floor and ran out of the room before Mrs. Cole, Brandon’s wife, could say another word. She didn’t stop to let herself think as she grabbed her bags and fled the ship. She returned home immediately, sobbed for a week about how foolish she’d been and then threw herself into her work vowing to never give Mr. Cole another thought, another moment of her precious life. She received a letter from Bandon a week later stating that he was flying in to see her, that he had to talk to her. She sent back a reply that merely said “We promised nothing. It meant nothing. Won’t have time to see you. Have a good life.” She thought that would be the end of it. Well, it was the end of their relationship. She never heard from him again. But it wasn’t the end of her tie to Brandon completely. Fate stepped in once again and changed the course of her life, this time forever, by giving her a child – Brandon’s child.

The clapping of the audience brought Joanna back to the present with a jolt. Brandon was stepping down from the podium, his eyes searing at her from across the auditorium. Oh no, he’d seen her! She was hoping to slip away quickly without ever having to face him. She tried to elusively make her way out a side door but just as she rounded the corner she felt a hand wrap around her arm and tug her back inside the room. She looked up and was confronted with Brandon’s icy gaze. His eyes roamed slowly over her, resting on her heaving chest. Joanna saw a sudden blaze of desire fill his eyes but it was instantly removed and replaced by what she could best describe as contempt. “Well, well, Joanna. You were the last person I expected to run into – here, or anywhere else for that matter. Were you trying to run out on me again?” Joanna, gaining some control over her chaotic emotions, replied as coolly as she could, “I’m here on a job, Mr. Cole, and if I’d known that you would be here, I certainly wouldn’t have bothered to come.”

Brandon looked frostily at her, as if he were holding back the urge to smack her. But instead of the biting remark that she expected from him, he asked quietly, “Do you have plans for lunch?” Joanna was taken aback. She searched vainly for an answer but her mind was blank. He took her hesitation for a negative response, that she did not have any plans for lunch and said, “Good, let’s go into the dining room then, shall we?” Before she knew what was happening, she was being shepherded into the resort dining room and seated at a table. Joanna watched Brandon’s face closely trying to figure out what thoughts were crossing his mind, but his eyes were like cold grey stones giving nothing away. She couldn’t believe this cold, hard man had once been a soft, yielding lover. She blinked her eyes quickly, turning off the memories that were invading her mind.

“So tell me, Miss Wells, what have you been doing with yourself these past 3 years?” Brandon asked casually although his tone gave away his true underlying feelings of bridled anger. Joanna snapped out of her thought coma and responded crossly “It’s none of your business what I’ve been doing, Mr. Cole. I don’t care discuss it and in fact, I don’t even want to have lunch with you. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m leaving!”

“Well, I see you’ve acquired some manners. At least this time you’re excusing yourself before running way.” retorted Brandon. “Of course, I suppose if someone means nothing to you, then there really isn’t any need for manners, is there?”

“Brandon, what on earth are you talking about?”

“We promised nothing. It meant nothing.” He threw her words back at her.

“That’s the way you wanted it too, if I remember right. You made no promises, no commitment, no declaration of love. And thank God you didn’t! If I’d known what kind of man you really were, I would have ran away from you as fast as I could the moment I laid eyes on you!” She spewed her words out hoping they would slap that look of contempt off his face.

“And just what kind of man is it you think that I am?” he asked tersely.

“You’re a user and a cheat. You’re despicable. You use women to satisfy your needs knowing full well that you have no intention on staying. I loathe you, you used me, took advantage of my inexperience and guillibility. I was obviously just another shipboard fling, another feather in your cap. What do you do, prowl the seas, looking for virgins to conquer to quell your ego?”

“Let me tell you something, Miss High and Mighty, I far from took advantage of you or used you considering how little coaxing it took to get you into my arms and into my bed. And as for your inexperience and guillibility? Honey, from what I remember, you’d make a porn star blush, so don’t give me that you-stole-my-innocence crap. You were a willing participant, and a very enthusiastic one if my memory serves me correctly.”

Joanna was so angry, she could hardly breathe, let alone say anything. So she threw back her chair and marched out of the dining room without another word. She slammed the cabin door so hard that a picture fell off the wall. Carolyn, Joanna’s sister, came scurrying from the bedroom at the sound of the picture glass shattering. “Joanna, for God’s sake, what’s wrong?!” she asked quickly noticing the look of shear rage on Joanna’s face. “You won’t believe it in a million years! The nerve of the man! Who the hell does he think he is? He practically called me a whore to my face, and implied I was some kind of nymphomaniac! And the whole time, it’s he who is the sleep around, the cheat, the nympho!” Joanna screamed into the room.

“Who? Who is he? Who are you talking about?” Carolyn asked wide eyed.

“Brandon. Brandon Cole! He’s here, at the resort. He’s a speaker at the seminar.”

“He’s here?” Carolyn asked incredulously. “Did you tell him about Ryan?”

“Ryan?” Are you kidding? I will never tell him about Ryan. After the way he treated me, I wouldn’t even want to admit that he’s any relation to Ryan!” Joanna returned with vengeance in her voice.

Monday, November 2, 2009

Drop and Give Me 20!

Today the news is rampant with reports regarding the National Health Insurance Debate. Mandatory health care for all is the mantra of the day – at least on the democratic side of the debate. I think as part of that “mandatory” health care coverage there should be some “mandatory” stipulations, like in order to access this health insurance if you’re obese you should be required to enroll in a weight reduction program. And I’m not talking about Weight Watchers, Jenny Craig or Nutrisystems – I’m talking about going to a good old fashion Fat Farm. As a person who has had her own struggles with weight over the years, I don’t feel that I’m indulging in Fat-profiling, being prejudice against the wide-loads, or am a Fatist by suggesting this.

Over and over again we hear about the rising health care costs in this country, and at the top of the list as the main culprits for this ever increasing cost is the treatment of heart disease, followed closely by diabetes – two conditions that are intricately linked to obesity. I would bet that if we rounded up all the fat people (myself included) and shipped them off to a Fat Farm for however many days it took to get their weight under control (and required them to return if they put back on any poundage), while covering their expenses (mortgage payment, food, bills, etc.) for the duration of time they were there, we would still be spending far less then we do now as a nation on health care costs. And hey, such a plan, while putting some of the “diet” gurus out of business, would create all kinds of jobs for nutritionists, cooks, trainers, hospitality jobs, etc. which would help jumpstart the economy. It’s a win-win: healthier population, more jobs, and I might not have to stand on the bus.

Everyday I ride the bus and out of the 40 or so fellow riders, I estimate that about 70% of them are overweight – and 8, or 20%, are morbidly obese – meaning they take up two seats which sometimes means some of us have to stand. How ridiculous! When I’m sitting reading my book or faux snoozing so I don’t have to talk to the resident Chatty Cathy, I might periodically glance at one of the aforementioned fatty’s and feel kind of sorry for them that they’ve let themselves go and got to this very unflattering and extremely unhealthy place in their lives. But when I’m standing, being jostled to and fro as the bus careens down the freeway and my knees are aching from the weight of my own 15 extra pounds of blubber, I have little mercy for them as they ooze over the two seats their mammoth girths occupy. And not one of them at anytime has even attempted to apologize or even recognize that because of their selfish decision to do as they please and not take any responsibility for their current weighty circumstances, that some of us have to suffer, be uncomfortable, and, in addition, risk being thrown through the front window of the bus if the need arises to slam on the breaks to avoid the asshole rush hour drivers – which happens every day!

My doctor says the magic cure for weight loss is eat less and move more. Doesn’t require any special equipment, medications, experts, or insurance, and yet most of us aren’t willing to do either. As a tax payer, I’m required to pay taxes for educating our young, caring for the elderly, maintaining infrastructure and keeping people employed (like tax preparers and the IRS). I’m not really a willing participant in supporting some of these programs, but as a citizen these are not elective but are mandatory. If I want to live in this country, then I need to pony up and share the burden. Well, regarding national health insurance, some of that “burden” is directly attributable to the fatty’s. I’m not saying all of it, or even half, but come on, a huge (no pun intended) portion of our health care costs are to treat conditions that are directly related to our lifestyles and eating habits.

I say if everyone who’s overweight were required to attend Fatty Boot Camp and was forced to get up off their asses and exercise, and were limited only to healthy food choices, then we would not only be a trimmer, healthier, more fit society, but I would probably never have to stand on the bus again.

Wednesday, October 21, 2009

The Sky is Falling! The Sky is Falling!

2012 – The End is Near

The end is near? Are you kidding me? Wake up people, it’s already here! There’s a movie coming out titled “2012” and it’s suppose to be a depiction of the world as we know it ending in the year 2012. This is based on all the hoopla that’s been reported lately (although it’s nothing new as people have been talking about this for decades now) about how the ancient Mayan and Chinese calendars, and one found in an Egyptian tomb, all end in 2012. From what I can decipher from the movie trailers, the events culminating in the destruction of the planet, and all creatures that inhabit it, are based on the recorded visions of such an event in the Bible and other ancient writings. There will be fire raining from the sky, earthquakes of magnitudes never before seen, volcanoes erupting all over the globe, tsunamis that will wipe out entire continents, and of course all other forms for natural disasters – tornadoes, hurricanes, blizzards, fires, etc. – occurring simultaneously. There’s no where to run, no where to hide, no safe place.

Now, I have read, even studied on occasion, my Bible and it does indeed depict the world being ravaged by all the aforementioned means in the “end times.” (For those of you not that biblically versed, in very simplified terms this a period in time just before Jesus is to return to the earth to save us from our wretched selves and stop us from actually really completely destroying the world. Because left to our own demented devices, we would surely find a way to do ourselves in. We’re well on the path to this type of destruction already.) However, the Bible is clear that no one knows the date or the time that this will occur – not even Jesus knew, and he was God! So, for us (mankind) to make the presumption that because some ancient civilization’s calendar ends in 2012 that that is the date the world will end, is ludicrous! Be serious, do you think if God said, several times, that no one will know the date or time that he’d leave a calendar with the date circled and “world ends today” written on it in big red letters just laying around?

With that said (or typed as the case may be), I do believe that we are in fact living in the “end times,” but we’ve been living in this time period for a very long time and have chosen to ignore it. While the Bible talks about the natural disasters that are to occur and increase with intensity, it also talks about societal ills such as wars, famine, disease, sexual perversion and abuse, torture and atrocities humans will inflict on one another, greed, murder, lying, cheating, and idolatry, just to name a few. These things too will increase and intensify. And they have but we have looked away, pretending that they’re not really happening. You can go back 50 years and pull the headlines to verify that, in fact, there has been mayhem all around us, and while we are shocked and often times justifiably enraged to read about these things, we continue to go about our business with an attitude of complacency and acceptance that that’s just the way of the world. But give us volcanoes, earthquakes, fires, hurricanes, all in 3-D, and we’re suddenly afraid that perhaps maybe we have gone too far, that things have gotten out of control, that we have not been on our best behavior.

Hop on the internet, open up any paper, turn on any news channel or radio station, from anywhere in the world, and you will find – daily - reports of wars, famine, disease, sexual perversion and abuse, torture and atrocities, murder, lying, cheating, idolatry, etc. The majority of us read or see these things and are disgusted, or outraged, or deeply saddened. We may even cry but do they have any impact on how we conduct ourselves from that point forward?

Now, while I think a movie such as 2012 could be a vehicle for opening eyes and starting conversations, I don’t need a calendar, or a movie, to tell me that the world as we know it is coming to an end. Much of the world as we knew it, where decency, kindness, empathy, morals and general goodwill ruled, has already come to an end. It saddens me to know that it probably will take a horrific “act of God” to stop us from destroying ourselves and the earth.

Humans are so stupid. God help us.