Forgiveness

Some people actually thrive on demanding repeated, shamelessly obligatory "forgiveness." In fact, they need you (me, everyone, really) to good-naturedly overlook their serial transgressions and outright abuse like a vampire needs to force its prey to "donate" even more precious, life-sustaining hemoglobin.

The problem is, however, that most of us normal, healthy human beings only have just so much to give. And I for one just plain ran out of veins to self sacrificially crack open a very, very long time ago. Yes, we should all learn how to genuinely forgive with all our hearts, of course, but you don't have to forget. Not if you don't want to become yet another serial victim, that is.

So whatever you do, please remember that you don't owe anyone a pint of blood (real or psychic) today, or any stinking day of the week, month, or year either. Not ever. Unless you truly, genuinely want to donate blood or plasma, of course. But for that, all one really need do is visit their local chapter of the Red Cross, which is of course something altogether different to begin with.

Either way, I do sincerely believe with all my heart and soul that Jesus Christ really did die for the sins of all mankind (and was subsequently resurrected on the third day). And that means for absolutely everyone everywhere, for all time, past, present, and future notwithstanding. So that's why I also do not believe for even a single millisecond that I, or anyone else for that matter, should be preyed upon by any serially abusive person.

Because Christ already did that for us. All of us.

So if you really do fancy yourself a true "Christian," and you've interpreted the Gospels otherwise (that we should forgive and keep on serially suffering for this or that demonic creep in the guise of a "friend," family member, spouse, etc., etc.), well that might actually just be your very own personal problem. Yes, that may just be your very own flawed, perhaps poorly educated misunderstanding of the genuine Word of God.

And maybe, just maybe, you really ought to take a good long look in the mirror at anyone, absolutely anyone, especially yourself, who honestly thinks that Jesus Christ wasn't truly man and God enough to have fixed that particular, pre-Christian era problem (with every last drop of his sacred blood, and terrible, prolonged suffering) so that he could fulfill what had long before been written, so that He could do just exactly as our Heavenly Father planned from the very beginning, and finally, so that He would therefore truly be with us, "even until the end of the age."

So by all means, we really should forgive all those who trespass against us, just as they really ought to in turn forgive our trespasses against them, but you'll never get me to buy into the clearly predatory notion that God actually intended for absolutely any of his beloved children to suffer unnecessarily if any one of us might serve as the instrument of God, and thereby intercede on His behalf. And that includes us interceding for ourselves in time of great need, if need be.

Because isn't that ultimately why we are all planted down here in the humble mud of Planet Earth in the first place? I mean, if we're not here to help each other (and sometimes, perhaps selfishly, help ourselves as well), then what, I humbly ask, are we actually here for? Only for our very own self gratification, and all others be damned? Uh-uh, no. I think... not. Definitely not. 

So even though we really shouldn't (under normal circumstances) seek revenge to punish our persecutors, and we don't even have to hold onto all that pain, we certainly must be entitled to a certain degree of self protection.

But sure, when it comes to all that personal pain, sure, if we can, we really should just let it go. Let it all go. Because it was never ours to hold onto to begin with. Which, believe me, I know, speaking from my own personal experience, just like so many others who've also been mistreated by various people throughout the course of their lives, all of the above is always so much easier said than done, isn't it?

But with a little (or even a whole lot of) effort, if we really can find it in our hearts to truly forgive, and then just walk away, having learned a thing or two from the hard lessons we were unfortunately forced to learn from being abused by others, then we really should consider ourselves lucky to have survived the ordeal.

Because now, by embracing the true blessings of forgiveness, we're finally free. Free at last, to treat the next person whom we may someday have the misbegotten opportunity to harm in a much better way than how we ourselves were mistreated by key figures in our past lives.

Because as far as I'm concerned, the true test of any human being is how we choose to wield our own personal power. In other words, if you were just a defenseless little child when some so-called "adult" figure, who may have just been on an all too typically childish tirade, chose to use their temporary power over you to get revenge for something or another that an equally misguided so-called "adult" did to them way back in their own troubled past, then what they deliberately chose to do to you says a whole lot more about them than it does about you. Doesn't it?

Thus, in the final analysis, we are all forced to make all sorts of choices, great and small, throughout the course of our lives. For we all possess varying degrees of personal power to either repeat (and thereby pass on) the Cycle of Abuse, or... we can deliberately choose to put a stop to it all. We can literally and finally say to ourselves, "The buck stops here." So we can finally well and truly take a stand, and not unconscionably simply "pass the buck" onto the next generation. And that particular personal choice, right there, my dear readers, is what ultimately makes one a truly good human. Or not.

Insufficient (or Incorrect) Data Leads to Inadequate Judgement

Though not entirely impossible, incorrect or insufficient data usually indicates that proper judgment cannot be exercised. In other words, attempting to solve for a given variable without having the appropriate numbers plugged into their various places in the equation being utilized means that an incorrect answer will almost always be the eventual result.

To further illustrate this concept, imagine if you will, using a broken calculator to compute any mathematical equation, from the meager total of a simple domestic shopping list all the way up to a crucial scientific formula in common use by NASA to safeguard the very lives of human astronauts being sent into Earth's orbit.

In other words, if the calculating machine being employed has even a single defective number key (which may be permanently depressed, or missing altogether, etc.), then the sum total of every possible equation will be incorrect each and every time that that particular device is used to "solve for X."

In fact, in many ways, the human mind is itself the most sophisticated "calculator," or organic computer rather, yet known to man. Therefore, if the mind of a specific individual is already damaged, or merely impaired in some fashion (great or small notwithstanding), then the flawed human being attempting to "judge," or solve for a given set of variables, will almost always, invariably, be wrong (to a greater or lesser extent) in their computations about, well, pretty much everything.

Or, as Matthew 7:1 (KJV) puts it, "Judge not, that ye be not judged."

The Age Old Art of Social Blackmail and the Ever Childish Shame Game

Uh... it's still the scariest sentence in the world. Duh.

Remember when you were "knee-high to a grasshopper," as the old saying goes, out playing in the yard, or maybe on the playground at recess, with your often obnoxious (or just plain immature) brother or sister, classmate, etc., and at what often seemed like the slightest provocation, this or that childhood companion would burst out in an abrupt sing-song chorus of, "I'm gonna tell on you!"

And wouldn't you know it, sometimes you didn't even have any idea whatsoever what you had supposedly done in the first place. So there you were, standing all slack-jawed, and suddenly compelled to let whatever toy, or handy stick (that just happened to resemble, in your vivid childhood imagination, a sleek black machine gun, or maybe even a rusty old sword) suddenly slip from your grubby little kid grasp, only to then lamely exclaim in total bewilderment, "What? What are you talking about? What did I do? What are you going to tell mom and dad/teacher/etc., etc., etc.?"

Or rather, the more kid appropriate, "I did not!" Which is almost always soon followed by the usual round of "Did too!" "Did not!" "Did too!" "Did not!" "Did too!" All of which is but part of a curious, but quintessentially childish discourse that must inevitably lead to the ultimate juvenile coup de grâce; "You know what you did! And I'm telling!"

"I don't even know what you're talking about! What did I do?" you scream helplessly with ever-growing alarm. And then your youthful mind starts to reel, and flail wildly in all sorts of futile, manic directions. Was it the stick I was holding? Oh come on, it was just a silly old branch fallen from a nearby tree. Wait! Did I say a 'bad word?' What did I say? I suddenly can't even remember the last ten minutes, let alone what I had for breakfast! Oh. My. Dear. God. In. Heaven...."

Yet, "You know what you did, and I'm going to tell!" is all your prepubescent gray matter can grasp in this horrific moment of sheer, unadulterated panic, as so and so suddenly breaks into a full-on sprint, heading in the general direction of the nearest adult-type figure (or at least someone who is able to approximate one) who will then surely be able to summarily pass precipitous and most likely quite arbitrary judgement - based solely on the wholly biased, hastily reported, heat-of-the-moment testimony of an antagonistic, hyper-competitive, and unnecessarily vengeful peer.

You know, like all those constantly whining, slandering, and tattling little jerk-offs in the Fake News Media who have the sheer gall to call themselves otherwise honest to goodness "journalists." The kind of sneering, jeering, finger-pointing little creeps that only seem to attend news conferences in the hopes of catching President Trump in the ultimate "gotcha moment." You'd better believe I'm talking about all those low down, dirty rotten, blatantly shameless and horrifically childish purveyors of "gotcha journalism."

Jim Accostya, perhaps the consistently most childish and blatantly rude manbaby in the "gotcha" Fake News Bizz.

And then, in the wake of a mere accusation, after the proverbial beans have been unceremoniously spilled all over the floor of your now suddenly wretched life that had, for all intents and purposes, only just begun, this ominous adult-type figure that some avenging little tattletale has incited, may then, in a fit of blind, self-righteous rage, proceed to pound your allegedly "guilty" young buttocks into what one can only imagine would be the little kid version of total and complete oblivion!

And wouldn't ya know it, all of the above is suspiciously similar to the process routinely resorted to by many infamous agents of the Fake News Media Complex, who seem to think, for some odd reason, that the very best way to begin meting out so-called justice is by the copious airing of dirty laundry. Or worse yet, they seem to think that numerous injustices the world over can only be achieved by twisting the words and deeds of highly targeted public figures whom they single out for especially vociferous scorn. And all in pursuit of that most precious and sacred of mass media holy grails; what unscrupulous charlatans who have the unmitigated gall to call themselves "journalists" often refer to as "the big scoop."

Let's face it, the scenario outlined above is ultimately the way the Fake News Industrial Complex has long sought to punish absolutely anyone who may simply not be on board with their latest single-minded, self-serving agenda. In other words, anyone who even so much as appears to deviate from the grand vision of Marxist Utopian social harmony must be humbled, or even outright eliminated. And as in all socialist revolutionary movements, the Media expects the easily incited masses to do the inevitable beating (mental, verbal, or even physical) of any and all supposedly misbehaving truants targeted for arbitrary punishment.

As in the case of all highly juvenile tattletales, they just prefer to be the ones who point the finger in the general direction of where they've decided the latest angry mob should be headed. Worst of all, as far as they're concerned, that's their job. Because there's just nothing a fake journalist loves more than getting away with being a shameless, trouble-making little tattle-tale. Oh, they may not realize that that is in fact what they do for a living, but lacking introspection, or even a good old fashioned conscience, can be a mighty convenient trait to have for folks in some professions, you know.

Yet, barring a full blown mob of torch wielding angry villagers straight out of an old Frankenstein movie (or even worse yet, straight outta Antifa and Black Lives Matter), at the very least, many miscreants (though nonetheless wrongfully accused), may actually get off relatively lightly, and just receive a stern "talking to" from some highfalutin authority figure or other - even if said individual, or perhaps a myriad of like-minded "concerned citizens," actually end up being little more than a bunch of enraged, easily manipulated SJWs, each childishly pounding on a keyboard from the relative comfort of their very own isolated, ivory towered domicile.

If bad old fashioned cyber-bullying doesn't do the trick then some unlucky bad boy or girl might even end up getting a suspension of some kind of formerly totally acceptable household or classroom "privilege." And who knows, if someone has in fact been a genuine little monster, they might even deserve it. Heck! Said individual may even be sent to their room, told to close the door, "and stay in there for the rest of the day, until I tell you to come out, little mister (or miss)!"

That's right, kids, they're as stark raving mad as drugged up hatters, and they're comin' for YOU.

Or you might just get off relatively easy, and only end up having to go to bed without any supper. Yikes! Talk about a veritable childhood apocalypse of Biblical proportions, Moses! It's the end of the world as we all know it! "OMG!" indeed. At least that's certainly how the Fake News Industrial Complex wants us all to process just about everything these days anyway. I mean, talk about a modern day version of the dreaded Court of Inquisition. Sheesh!

But why on earth does this ancient, though thoroughly juvenile tactic still work so incredibly well on just about everyone, even after all these centuries of human civilization? Why, because most of us never truly grow up anyway, silly! Duh.

And guess what else, folks; the age old, tried but seldom all that true expression, "I'm gonna tell on you!" is still often the scariest phrase imaginable (in any language, culture, etc.) to pretty much every single human being on this entire planet. And not just in the case of presumably mischievous children either. Nope. Uh-uh. No way, José. Even and most especially not in these wretched days of political and social upheaval, these faux "social justice" fueled, incendiary "times that try men's souls," and perhaps even more than during the very worst days of the American Revolutionary War.

Where the heck are ya when we need you most, Thomas Paine?

In fact, if you really think about it, it's just that nowadays (and probably, very likely for all of human history up to this very moment in time) that what we really have here is what I like to call "Social Blackmail," which is, and always has been (in one form or another), simply something that far too many so-called "adults" of all ages just tend to shamefully resort to in order to gratuitously lay the often disastrously ruinous burden of guilt and shame on all their social and political opponents.

Yes, sadly, this predatory social trend that is almost always meant to punish and thereby silence anyone deemed to be foolish enough to go against the grain, has in the past few years alone heated up to an alarmingly inflammatory fever pitch. Worst of all, these openly aggressive, needlessly destructive human social and political tactics are simply par for the course when particularly unscrupulous individuals brazenly resort to the age old witch hunt mentality in a wholly unscrupulous attempt to get anyone who doesn't happen to agree with them to shut the heck up and simply fall in line already.

In particular, people in the US (and other rapidly becoming ever more ethnically diverse countries such as Canada, the UK, Spain, Germany, etc. - aka, mainly Western Europe and North America - but not necessarily outside the sphere of heavily liberalized Western Civilization in most cases) tend to be scared out of their very wits at the mere thought that they might actually be accused of supposedly being "a racist," "a homophobe," "a Republican," etc., etc., etc. Or even, God forbid, "a Trump supporter!" And as I noted above, this isn't even a new or in any way, shape, or form "modern" human social development at all. Heck no! Come on, Peppermint Patty! Wake up and pay attention in class already, will ya? I mean, who among us hasn't ever even so much as bothered to read up about the infamous Salem Witch Trials?

Charles M. Schulz is definitely one of my biggest heroes - and then some. At least Marcie was a genuine friend to Peppermint Patty, and offered a very good excuse to the teacher on this particular occasion!

Actually, even though all us (primarily "white," male) Americans tend to be blamed for almost absolutely everything under the sun these days, throughout the 16th and 17th centuries in particular, witch trials were also quite prevalent in a number of other countries, too. Again, particularly in England, Scotland, and other parts of Western Europe (seeing the dystopian socialist pattern of alleged "systemic racism" yet?) where the persecution of so-called "witches" and "warlocks" was all the rage for a good long while, and with even famous personages such as King James I (and VI) not only eagerly getting in on the act, but also pretty much becoming the virtual figurehead of a widescale social and political movement to hunt down and exterminate anyone suspected to have clandestinely made a pact with the devil himself.

Who's afraid of a big, bad witch? Or how about a nasty old male chauvinist warlock or two?

Sometimes this attempted eradication of the merely accused, so-called evildoer was achieved by the most famous method, that of burning the victim alive, but there were of course all sorts of other ways to forcibly make a supposed dabbler in "the black arts" confess all the juicy, dirty little details of their presumed wicked, wicked ways. Yet, before we continue with our examination of the long established and rather nasty need for humans pretty much everywhere on poor old Mother Earth to try ever so desperately to control and manipulate one another (usually "by any means necessary,") let's take just a moment to dive into the deeper end of the colorful life of one of my favorite historical monarchs, James I and VI.

Just look at the long, droopy Scottish schnoz on this old gent's narrow, lean Celto-British mug! Every single
time I see a vintage portrait of James I and VI, it reminds me of my Grandpap Campbell (on me dear,
sweet mum's Scottish, Irish, and Welsh side of the family). Sigh.

Just for starters, it is of particular note that this is the King James that is perhaps most famous for the early 17th century translation of the holy Christian Bible that he got so very involved with in the first place when he attended the General Assembly of the Church of Scotland at St Columba's Church in Burntisland, Fife in May 1601. It was at this historic meeting that proposals were put forward for a new translation of the Bible into English.

Then, even more fortuitously, a scant two years later, James VI of Scotland got even luckier still by actually being invited to ascend the throne of England as James I. And all because Henry VIII's daughter, Elizabeth I, never managed to so much as get hitched, let alone produce a much needed heir for the English throne. Or... something like that. Bottom line: History is often real, real complicated, kids! And there is always somebody out there who is more than willing to argue with you about all the dirty little details and finer points of the past or present. So do be sure to keep that in mind, eh? 'Cause, come on. That's all just part of the grand old, ever-childish "gotcha" game, silly. I mean, duh....

But besides all that, what do we really know about this curious fellow, James? Better yet, what in God's name does he have to do with childish behaviors and the nasty, dirty, stinking Fake News Industrial Complex? Well, let's see. From what I've read about him previously, he seems to have suffered just a wee bit under the tutelage of at least one regent serving on his behalf until he came of age. And sadly, back then even royals weren't immune to such treatment, and especially not during a time when much of Europe was already undergoing the seismic convulsions of the numerous schisms and outright rejections of the Roman Catholic Church order, which had, up to that point in time, enjoyed a nearly millennium and a half long almost total monopoly on the overall structure and precepts of pretty much the entire Christian faith in Western Europe.

But hey! Change is good, they say. I mean, right? Sure. Why not. Let's let that Luther guy have his say now. Sure. Yeah. I mean, why not?

But then, even after many a European nation (or even just a substantially sized Christian group within a given country), all sorts of Protestant disagreements about various points of church doctrine and the like often eventually ended up with the outbreak of often vociferous disagreements and even full blown theological battles that in turn sometimes even ended up causing the various belligerents in question to resort to the wholescale waging of all out war - in many cases, more or less to decide which church rites, hymnal books, and all that jazz, were to be accepted for common use in this or that brand new splinter Protestant Christian sect.

Martin's highfalutin Reformation is pretty much when snotty, holier-than-thou Protestant kids in Europe started to lip off to all us poor Catholics kids, claiming that they're the true Christians, and we're all just... well, lowly, misbehaving slackers - and not, in fact, "Catholic Christians." Seems one can't even be called a Christian anymore if they don't agree with some bossy old German guy who actually used to be a Catholic priest himself (and married a nun, no less)!

Yet getting back to good old James I (and VI) of everlasting KJV fame, not only was the poor lad raised to adhere to decidedly strict Protestant dogma (despite the fact that his mother was Roman Catholic), the details of his life have in recent years been restyled to suggest that he was actually something of a pioneering "gay icon." Yes, you read that right. The guy who's Christian Bible you've most likely read or seen quoted the most of all is now believed within some circles to have been as queer as a three-dollar bill! Or at the very least, dear old James may have been (and I here formally re-emphasize, might have been) bisexual. Some even contend quite vociferously that he was by no means a homosexual.

But for goodness sake, whatever you do, don't ask me for my opinion on the matter! Just for starters, I most certainly wasn't there when James was supposedly dallying behind closed doors with a series of supposed paramours who were not only decidedly male and usually a good deal younger than the King himself, but were also widely recognized as being rather physically attractive. Regardless of how one might wish to argue the matter, one thing is for certain: King James fathered at least three children (that we know of anyway, as was often the way of those rascally, randy, roguish royals, don't ya know) with his dearly beloved, Queen Anne, so he certainly doesn't seem to have had any trouble whatsoever when it came to dallying with the fairer sex. At least as far as we now know after all these centuries anyway.

At any rate, whatever the case may in fact be, historical sources suggest that after heading down south to "dear old blighty" (but surely also long before that, when he was younger and presumably had even more sexual energy in quiet abundance while busy ruling over bonny Scotland) James I actually became somewhat well known for his fondness for certain court favorites who always, curiously enough, seemed to be male and, well, rather fetching.

Let's face it, pretty much everybody (who could afford to) dressed that "gay," and all fancy way back then. Sheesh!

But let's not stray too far from the infamous, multi-centuries long witch hunts, shall we? Or from the overarching concept of Social Blackmail for that matter. Because in fact, if we really want to get technical about it, what is now the United States was, at the time of the Salem Witch Trials still very much part of the British Empire - as everyone with a brain glued firmly enough in their skull already fully well knows.

In other words, those naughty little tattle-tale witch hunters and so-called full grown "adults" back in early colonial days were in fact at the time still very much British and/or Irish men, women, and children (with a few Dutch, Danish, Africans, etc. thrown in for good measure), who were not only suddenly all consumed and waxing absolutely "nutter" over supposed outbreaks of witchcraft in North America, but in the grand scheme of things, they were really just following a massive social trend which had already been imported, lock, stock, and smoking witch's cauldron, by those trusty, holier-than-thou (or at least holier-than-most) Puritans, and other fundamentalist religious groups from way back east, across ye olde pond. And that's not necessarily to let all us pesky "Yanks" entirely off the hook, mind you, but to simply be honest and accurate about it.

It is perhaps Thomas Satterwhite Noble's 1869 painting, titled "Witch Hill (The Salem Martyr)" that most poignantly illustrates the hapless plight of accused "witches" during the infamous Salem Witch Trials of the late 17th century.  

Yet nowadays, long since the Puritans held sway over much of early colonial North America, the Social Backmail Game continues to be not just about who may or may not be wicked enough to be real life witches (the very concept of which has now been transformed entirely, and curiously enough, turned completely on its head, having become a full blown religious movement in the form of the Wiccans, and other like minded neo-pagans), or rather, who may in fact simply be just too darn big for their very own over-sized Pilgrim hats, shiny brass buckles, and knee-length fancy britches. No, these days, holier-than-thou liberals are actually the ones always seeking to call all the shots about who supposedly is and isn't on the right or wrong side of history.

Sure, to a lesser extent conservatives tend to also get in on the act, but I think that's because we are always being forced to be on the defensive, constantly fighting off the never-ending attacks of self-righteous leftists who seem to feel that only they have the divine right to pass judgement over who is or isn't "progressive" or "open-minded" enough. So I think there's an incredibly strong argument to be made for the idea that it's the hyper-secular, vain, selfish, and increasingly spoiled and entitlement seeking liberals that are the ones who are in fact leading the "I'm gonna tell on you!" pack of slanderous lies, innuendo, and guilt-shame tactics galore - all opportunistically designed to win "by any means necessary."

So yes, if you're really objective and truly "open minded" (the way liberals always claim to be), it's more than obvious that it's definitely those on the increasingly unbalanced leftist lunatic fringe who've now taken a frighteningly hyper-aggressive stance, and seem to have truly mastered the timeless art of Social Blackmail and the Shame Game - which is of course just the the age old art of selfishly seeking to manipulate and control the masses to get absolutely anything you want out of society as a collective whole.

In other words, if you just happen to be an almighty, god-like liberal and you want to believe, for only one example, that a human baby is nothing more than just a "collection of cells," an entirely optional part of a woman's body (like hair, fingernails, and the latest Gucci handbag, or similarly easily discardable fashion accessory) which the mother can do whatever the hell she wants with, to the point that "it" can even be killed and tossed into the trash bin on demand, even after a live birth... well, then that's what you simply need to force everyone else to agree to accept as the truth.

And absolutely no dissent whatsoever will be tolerated, do you hear? None at all. So whatever you do, Pilgrim, don't get any bright ideas, you hear! The libs are running this here one-party American town now, and if they say we need to stop flying in planes (well, except Leonardo Dicaprio, John Kerry, and their fancy-ass, entitled Hollyweird ilk) and put a bird slaying windmill in everybody's front and back yard, well then doggone it, that's what we're just gonna have to let 'em do, dang it.

So I guess all that is truly left now (just to hopefully wrap up this little rumination on the timeless foibles of Mankind, which even includes all women, who must be believed, no matter what whom they may indeed seek to bear false witness against), well... all that's really left to say is perhaps, "Welcome to the kidult mangled human landscape, people of Earth!" And worst of all, it's a fiery hell of our very own making. Which is really what Social Blackmail and the Shame Game are still, even after all these thousands upon thousands of centuries of pathetic human social and political history are really all about, you know.

So in the final analysis, it's just plain us, all (or far too many of us, anyway) who just can't seem to simply grow the heck up and finally play nice for a change, for goodness sake! So you see, the Shame Game may be hopelessly archaic and ultimately fruitless and incredibly self destructive, but yet... it seems to never really go completely out of style. Not for some of us anyway. But come on, are we really having all that much fun the way we're going? I wonder.

So you see, some people just plain never grow up enough to simply "Knock it off!" or "Cut it out!" Sadly, many folks simply just don't make it very far out of mental adolescence. And there you have it. And that's just the way it really is, all you snot-nosed kids of all ages. So by all means, "Go tell it on the mountain, over the hills and everywhere." "Tell what?" you may ask, all you haughty, new age "atheists" and "liberated" wokesters, who may indeed be perhaps just a bit too big for your fancy, secular twenty-first century, science and progress-worshipping britches. Tell what? Well, tell everyone what all us truly honest individuals have already known for countless centuries of pathetic human social history; that most people simply never really grow the hell up.

So I guess one really could do what that old spiritual so strongly advocates, and just tell everyone that "Jesus Christ is born." Or... you could just go right on playing perhaps the very oldest of most wicked little games. You could just run and tell mom, dad, teacher, some newfangled secular humanist preacher (or just join forces with the shamelessly Fake News Media Industrial Complex, etc.), and keep right on running around screaming, "I'm gonna to tell on you!" at the top of your foolish little lungs. After all, it's your choice, of course. At least, it sure did used to be anyway, before the "woke" mafia started what pretty much amounts to the 21st century version of the Grand Inquisition all over again.

As the Worm Turns

You may think you know some folks and can therefore depend on them when the going gets rough, but should you reach out in time of great need, you may find instead that many a fair weather friend, "family" member, or the like, may instead see your weakness as a boon to lord over, dominate, or perhaps even benefit from your temporary misfortune. So it is that "when the chips are down," as the old saying goes, that we tend to see the "true colors" of those closest to us. Yet take heart, for the fortunes of all mere mortals are but fleeting. In fact, in celestial terms, change is a universal constant, and one day, those who once betrayed your trust may find the tables wholly turned, and themselves the ones in sudden, dire straits. How we respond then tends to reveal our very own mettle, and whom among us all was truly the superior all along - and who the inferior, the base, the morally bankrupt.

Facebook on My Mind

You know how Facebook always asks that annoying question? You know the one: "What's on your mind?" Really? You really, honestly wanna know what's on my mind, Facebook (masters of the almighty cyber-verse)? Okay. You asked for it, you got it.

1) I don't really like Facebook. Sure, in many ways it's an entertaining electronic platform and a great way to be able to "network" and reach out to people (old acquaintances, distant relatives, former classmates, etc.), but it's also unfortunately often a terrible waste of time. I mean, I've spent literally years, day after day, 365 days a year, clicking "like" on everybody's pictures and shares, but most of the time, the vast majority of those people have mostly behaved like I only exist for their personal gratification.

Because sadly, to most Facebook "users," I'm just a "follower," a "top fan," a "group contributor," or even worse, a "customer." I may even be nothing more than a target for someone who has a specific political, religious or social agenda. Either way, if I happen to consent to go along with someone who suddenly deems me useful, that may pretty much just end up making me little more than a sycophantic nobody whose job is to sit eagerly in front of my computer, just waiting with bated breath to click my mouse, as indicated, often enough to send out yet another dopamine hit to some needy, addicted "social" media "content creator."

2) I've been on Facebook since way back in the early 2000s, but in all those years, most of the friends I've accumulated on here haven't even so much as bothered to reply to any of my personal messages most of the time. In fact, when I got married back in 2012, I sent a whole lot of people on my "friend" list electronic wedding invitations, but not a single one of those people even so much as sent me a simple reply. I don't even know if they even bothered to click on the link that would show them the electronic wedding invitation! I mean, I wasn't looking for a card or even a wedding gift, and I certainly didn't think that most of those individuals could attend the ceremony over here in South Korea, but... gosh... maybe a word or two of congratulations in a private message could have made a huge difference in my life. But I guess that's not how "social" media really works, is it?

3) So yeah, after all these years, and all these "friends" on a mostly meaningless electronic "friend list," I guess I just don't care anymore. So stay. Or go. Whatever! But for God's sake, please remember one thing: I don't exist to support your cause. No, I'm not sending a donation. No, I'm not clicking like on every one of your shares. Yes, I may very well like your page at your request, but then again, I might not. Likewise, I might "like and share" when I see what I think is genuinely good content, but on second thought, maybe I just plain won't. You see, believe it or not, as a human being, I am not just another name on an electronic list.

And there you have it. So should you stay or should you go now? I dunno. I honestly don't know. And I no longer really care. So just remember one thing: I am not here for you and you only. I do not exist to serve you. I'm not a sycophant. I'm not a disciple. I'm not a follower. I'm not even an especially political person in most cases. Again, I am not here for your personal gratification, entertainment, or to profess my undying allegiance to your sacred cause. Because as far as I've seen over the years, there's not a single person on Facebook (in politics, entertainment, etc.) that even comes close to being Jesus Christ, the Buddha, Mohammed, or who the heck ever!

And that goes for you holier-than-thou atheists, too! So whatever you do, just remember, I am a person. I am a human being. I am an individual. And if you are too, for God's sake, act like it. Interact with me, one on one, every now and then. You know, like a fellow traveler to the grave (afterlife, or whatever) that we must all eventually inhabit, and not just another Facebook faceless name on a list, a "social" media tool to be used when, how, and why you (or others) may in fact see fit at any particular moment on any given day.

And that, Facebook, is exactly what's on my mind. So "like it, love it, or take it around the corner, and dump it."

On the Nature of Love and Personal Boundaries

I actually have a lot of boundaries, yet most people don't even seem to be aware of the vast majority of the personal lines that really shouldn't be crossed to begin with. But then... I guess I really do understand.

For example, Facebook has finally, after God knows just how long, added a "care" reaction to the list of "like" options. Me, I have firm boundaries, but I tend to either like something or someone or... I just plain don't.

So in most cases, rather than simply clicking "like," I more often go for the "love" option. I mean, something doesn't have to be the best or most professional photo ever taken for me to see the genuine effort, or sheer sentiment that went into the compulsion to publish certain content via social media.

Likewise, someone doesn't have to be the best looking individual on the planet either for me to "love" their picture. I mean... there are a lot of ways to love people, and the world at large, you know. So it's often wise not to read too awful much into just about anything at all.

However, clicking "love" on someone's publicly shared content unfortunately creeps some folks way the heck out. Especially some women and girls, I've noticed. And, even worse, if you're a guy who clicks "love" on a male friend's new profile picture, said fellow heterosexual, manly dude may just... you know, get the wrong idea.

Ahem.

So, okay, okay! Don't flatter yourself too much. Also, by the very same token, don't assume that everyone out in cyberspace is a pervy little "wanker" who has nothing better to do than fall in Facebook "love" with little old you. Or me... or whomever. I mean... you did share that content publicly, did you not?

And yes, I know that negative attention is often better than no attention at all, but... come on! Everyone has responsibilities, everyone has "agency." Absolutely everyone. Even folks who seem to have absolutely no clue whatsoever that what they're really doing is... well, typical attention-seeking. But hey! We are talking about "social" media, are we not?

Ahem.

So, really, honestly, if I click "love" on a social media post it almost always means that I think the content deserves more than a simple "like." But that doesn't mean that I'm a stalker, or that I think that anyone on Facebook is the second coming of Jesus Christ himself either. I'm just a really sincere guy in most cases. And... that's about all there really is to it, I'm afraid.

On the Nature of Postmodernist Devolution

Unfortunately, these days, most people can't even be bothered to read a paragraph or two at the top of a typical social media post, let alone write a good old fashioned letter (or even an email, much less a few coherently worded sentences in a simple chat session) to a friend or relative.

In Medieval times, Christian churches, and later, cathedrals, had only just begun to be filled with art and various forms of  religious iconography (such as stained glass depictions of Biblical stories and statuary to venerate Christ and other important figures) in a concerted effort to educate the largely illiterate masses who could not yet even read the scriptures.

In those days, in fact, churches and monasteries were not just centers of worship, but tended to be the only places, outside of the royal court, or the homes of the most affluent, where the laity (the common man) could actually go to learn to read and write. Of course, we've come quite a long way since then. At least we like to think so anyway.

That's why, in fact, all the best 19th century literature, for just one example, tends to be rather lengthy, even wordy, and full of verbiage that, nowadays, in the world of quickly and easily digestible pop-culture entertainment, tends to make many a "modern" man's head spin by sheer comparison.

I fear therefore, that as a species, the human race may actually be digressing when all most folks can be bothered with is the mere seconds it takes to scroll past pretty pictures on Facebook; a veritable cornucopia of visually oriented stimulation that usually incorporates only a single sentence or two, and thus conveys but the simplest of ideas, often expressed in a mere brief quote at the very best.

And worse yet still, quite often, even these colorful "memes" tend to have absolutely no punctuation, or may even be full of grammar and spelling errors, to boot. So much for human "social" progress, eh?

Just Because

Just because you can, doesn't mean you should. Just because you should, doesn't mean you will. Just because you will, doesn't mean you're ever even gonna get the chance.

On the Nature of Anger, or... Live and Let Dog (or Cat, or Mouse) Live

Yes, I do get angry sometimes. I think everyone does. Even some of the sweetest, most innocent folks I've personally ever been privileged to know. Such as a few handicapped people I've been lucky enough to be acquainted with over the years, whom, I have observed, that even they too, from time to time, have their little moments of bitter frustration and deep, abiding sorrow and disappointment.

And besides, in most cases, with a little help, and a whole lot of patience, most people tend to "get over it," as they say, as we all should, of course. After all, Life is hard for a whole lot of people. Everyone suffers sometimes. Everybody cries, you know - whether they ever let anyone else see that side of them or not. And some of us, I am deeply saddened to have to acknowledge, definitely seem to have it a whole lot worse than others.

So it's not the periodic strong emotions all us, hopefully humble, human beings tend to feel, or the times of great stress that may cause some folks to be unable to properly manage the more negative side of their nature, but rather, it is how we deal with our inner angst that often makes all the difference in the world.

Therefore, it's where and how we channel that raw energy, that comes as part and parcel to the often bitter slings and arrows of Life, that matters most of all. It's how we use it to either help or hurt others. Especially those closest to us, whom are often the very last people who deserve to be left holding the proverbial bag.

So goes the old adage, that as I often recall, reads something like this:
"The boss takes it out on the man. The man takes it out on his wife. His wife takes it out on the kids. The kids take it out on the dog. The dog takes it out on the cat. The cat takes it out on the mouse. And the mouse? Well, no one quite knows for sure." 🐭

"Don't Hate Me Because I'm Beautiful"

Sometimes, they don't dislike you because of something you supposedly, just maybe, may or may not have even "done wrong" to begin with. Sometimes someone or other in your life just can't stand the sight of you because you may actually possess something that they themselves do not, or something (such as a talent or some other all too obvious virtue - even if it's only innocence) that they might not have in quite such glaring abundance.

Maybe you're just too pretty. Maybe you're just too smart. Maybe you're none of the above. Maybe you're just plain average, but the fault actually lies within them, and not you. Therefore, maybe they themselves feel an overwhelming deficit, a deep chasm in the pit of their very soul, and the only way they can feel better about the sorry state of their own wretched existence is to put others down, just to feel even just a little bit bigger, or so-called "better" than everyone else.

Sometimes it's just because of someone or other in their own past who despised them for no particularly good reason - other than pure, instinctual, bad old fashioned jealousy, that is. You know, envy. Spite. And they are already angry on the inside because maybe... like a lot of us, "Life just doesn't seem fair." Sometimes. Sometimes for healthy folks, but not so much for the mentally ill, the perpetually self-tortured.

So... that right there is actually all the excuse in the world that some sad people might need to hate your stinking guts - and then treat you accordingly. But then... I guess that's just some people for ya. Hmm. 🤨

On the Nature of Perspective

Sometimes, we do not know ourselves as well as those who view us from a different set of eyes, just as those who similarly fail to see themselves from their own frail, limited, human perspective.

Drivin' Like the Demon That Drives Your Dreams

I don't drive very much here in South Korea, but there's this thing that one encounters every now and then in the US, which, in most states, tends to be very much a "car culture."

Here's the scenario; you'll be sitting at the stoplight in your nice, all paid for, affordable and perfectly adequate economy car (that you love, because it was inexpensive, but comfortable, and easy to care for, ultra-easy to park, and eventually replace, etc), but all the country boys in their big pickup trucks, or whatever they may be driving... well, they gotta drag race. Or... something.

Having had that extremely strong, intuitive Sixth Sense, even before I can remember, I can always feel it in the driver of the car in the next lane - even without the distinct sound of the rev of their engine, even without looking over in their general direction. Because we, us drivers, usually both know when that light is just about to change to green.

And that's why I always just sit there for a minute (or rather a few seconds, depending on whether there is another driver waiting in the lane behind me) when the light does change, and just watch the drag-racing jerk drive off in a huge hurry. Chasing...? I don't even know exactly. The devil himself, maybe?

Besides, if you really must drive the biggest (or just the fanciest) vehicle you can barely afford, whether it's actually even practical or not, just to perhaps show off... what exactly? I mean, if you really need that self esteem boost, take it, A**hole! Take it and go your merry little way.

After all, it's just a stoplight. It ain't the Grand Prix. Nor do we really need to drop our pants to compare the family jewels, for crying out loud! And besides, when it's all over and done with, you'll still be going your separate way in Life. And so will I.

But most importantly of all, I didn't even care one lick about where you were going in the first place. I didn't even really care how you might be getting there, OR for that matter, what you might be driving in the process.

So... drive on, dude... buddy... man... pal... mate, or whatever. I honestly wish you peace. May you even get to where you're going as safe, sound, and trouble free as the good Lord will allow. Just please, don't waste my damn time (or gasoline) while you're at it.

On the Nature of Social Media Pandemics, or... One Socialized "Friendship" Inevitably Leads to Another

That's the thing about people, you know. You make (or simply maintain a friendship with) one person, and that at first seemingly harmless social interaction often leads to being forced, or otherwise obliged, to interact with a whole host of others that you may actually end up wishing you hadn't gotten involved with in the first place.

Which can all turn out to be great, of course. But other times, all that goofy socializing actually ends up being a distinct detriment. For example, I worked with a guy whom I actually more or less liked a number of years ago. Nice guy. A reasonably smart guy even - as more or less intelligent people go, that is. The only problem was that he was also a dyed-in-the-wool, fancy "atheist."

Which was fine, really. I mean, that's what I thought at first anyway. Because someone doesn't have to agree with me about everything all the time, right? I mean, what fun would life even be if everyone agreed with us all the time? How would anyone learn anything new? How could we grow as human beings if we didn't encounter others who make us think? I mean, really think.

So at first, I was like, okay, to each his own. Believe or don't believe whatever you want. It's all good, right? Well... not for me in this particular case, anyway. Because this one die-hard atheist friend led to me accepting the friendship of yet another atheist. Which was also fine at first glance. Except that this other atheist was one of those especially vocal sorts. You know, the kind that seems to not be happy unless they're making or sharing hateful Internet memes that disparage Christians in particular.

Yeah, that kind of atheist. The kind that makes all the rest look like sadistic, anarchist monsters with a bug up their itchy, filthy, arrogant buttocks. The kind that just can't not believe in God or an Afterlife, and then... just shut up about it. The kind of person that seems to feel the need to put down anyone with a little faith. The kind of cruel, mean-spirited douchebag who delights in making cracks about the supposed absurdity of a virgin birth. The kind of... well, you get the idea.

So then, within just a few days, I kid you NOT, a whole slew of these other atheist dudes sent me friend requests on Facebook! But, in my characteristic patience, or perhaps fancy-ass magnanimity, I was still like, okay, keep calm, and be "tolerant." Remember now, if you can respect their opinions and beliefs, then they can certainly respect yours. Right?

Uh... nope. Didn't work out quite that way, unfortunately. Nope. Uh-uh. No way, no how, Jose! Not on your life, buddy! No, in fact, before I knew it, my Facebook "news feed" was suddenly inundated with dozens of really offensive and downright condescending and mean memes. Crude jokes about Jesus galore! Horribly irreverent and even sometimes outright obscene depictions of Christ, nuns, priests, and the total disparaging of anything Christian imaginable! Just a constant barrage of rude, insensitive, and just plain intolerant commentary about people of faith in general.

Yet very seldom, if ever, any disparaging remarks and irreverent blaspheming about Muslims or even Buddhists. Not that I particularly want to see that kind of venomous bile being spewed by constantly needling, ankle-biting know-it-all worms like that either, mind you, but it really made me think: What gives? I mean, what the heck is their problem anyway? Why be so nasty? I mean, some people like chocolate ice cream, while others prefer vanilla, right? So... so what! "Live and let live." But that's obviously not what these particular atheists were after.

So finally, one day I just had had enough. So I went to my big, fancy Facebook "friend" list and I just started picking those nasty little buggers off. I just went to town, and unfriended the hell out of the whole stinking lot of them. Good riddance! I mean, who really needs that kind of negativity anyway, right?

So now, I watch, or listen to, daily masses on Youtube. I enjoy the priest or deacon's homily, and I don't give a big flying crap who doesn't like it. Because quite often, even just one bad apple really can spoil the whole darn bunch.

And I don't know about anybody else, but although it is certainly possible to make bitter vinegar from fermented apples, and although vinegar too, most definitely has its uses, it is infinitely wiser, I have found, to keep your spoiled rotten fruit well away from the cream of the crop - lest it too become hopelessly tainted.

On the Nature of Unfair Competition, or... Those Who Honestly Think They Never Win

You see, it wasn't that I didn't agree with his commentary. After all, everybody, every single one of us, has not only the right to have their own opinion, but we all also have the right to express our ideas. Politely, and within reason, of course.

No, what bothered me was that after reading what he wrote, I could see that, even after all these years... since primary school, junior high, and even high school, he was apparently still comparing himself to me. Yeah, yeah! I was "gifted." I was "the best" at this or that. So what!

Well, sorry (not sorry), but I just don't have time for that. Because not only do I believe that "the last will be first, and the first will be last," I also quite strongly believe that everyone has value. Even villains. Because without the bad guys, how would we even know who and what to look to as truly good in this world?

No, I'm not as rich or as famous as I might have been lead to believe I might one day be when I was growing up in a really small town with only 50 kids (including myself) in our graduating class, but who cares? Just look at the recent COVID-19 outbreak. Think about all the rich, spoiled-rotten celebrities who were whining - despite their millions - because... well, I guess they have troubles, too. Imagine that.

So yeah, I don't know why exactly I'm still stuck where I am today, but then, I gave it all up to God a long, long time ago. "Thy will be done." Because in the end, you can pray and pray, but things just work out the way they're supposed to sometimes. And we mere mortals simply do not always understand why or even how. So, all I can do is what absolutely every other fellow human being on this Earth does every single day - well, all the one's who are still able, anyway - I get up and I do the best I can.

Sometimes it's not good enough though. Sometimes I feel angry and frustrated. But I keep getting up, and I keep on trying. And sorry (not sorry), but I honestly don't think that comparing myself, and my own unique journey in Life to anyone else, would serve any of us in any truly positive way, shape, or form.

And that's just the way it is, really. And there ain't no more. Because again, "I'm not in competition with anyone. I hope we all make it." Because I wasn't competing with anyone (but maybe myself) back in high school, and I sure as heck aren't now either.

On the Nature of Artifice

So honestly, I don't really care who doesn't click "like." I could give a crap less who reads or doesn't read my often lengthy diatribes and perhaps even rather antisocial social commentary! I don't even give a hoot when people say, "I think you just need to write a book." Because I'll just reply, "That's funny. I thought I was!" I mean, if everybody paid inordinate attention to all their critics, or even their devoted, covetous, blubbering fans, why even bother to produce anything at all in the first place?

Art, real artifice, has not so much to do with the audience as it does with the expression of the artist. For all fame is fleeting, all adoration is fickle and easily distracted, and in end, all that really matters is that you put in the work, you went through the paces, you did a dozen sloppy sketches before you even put a drop of careful paint on the canvas. You scrawled a thousand and one silly little words on a hundred and one scraps of paper. And maybe that's good enough. At least, when it comes to most fine art anyway - for only Time and Posterity tends to tell the true and lasting worth of the vast majority of any of it.

On the Nature of Time and Timelessness

In fact, I pity those who fail to see the beauty, the wisdom, the timeless splendor, of all things that are not merely "old," but may linger still, because they have somehow managed to stand the often cruel test of time - where so many other fleeting human works of whimsy have long since been all but forgotten. Yes, the movie might be "old," the song may not be the latest or greatest version, the once prettiest little girl in the class may now gaze at time-withered hands through the myopic prism of tired, ancient eyes, and some of the very best books ever written may have been patiently lying in wait on a dusty shelf for decades, or even centuries, to finally be savored anew by a blissfully unsuspecting generation of foolhardy initiates - the latest model, the youngest brood yet still unripe enough to fancy themselves prematurely "wise" - but... why then, does it often seem that only the very old and the very young know the true value of even the simplest, most deceptively mundane of such things?

On the Nature of Friendship

Some are former friends. Some are future friends. Yet still more, and perhaps even the vast bulk of interpersonal acquaintances, whether great, small or anywhere in between, are merely Purgatorial in nature. Or rather, many are but friends in waiting. Because sometimes we (hopefully) humble human beans, we who may forever struggle desperately to sprout, ever clawing to burst through the earthly crust within which we are quite literally rooted, to strain, to stretch, to reach beyond our mortal grasp toward the photosynthetic brilliance of the great Divine. So, sometimes we may simply have little choice but to wait until the moment when we are truly ready to actually BE, or merely to have, the truest of friends.

"Ah, but a man's reach should exceed his grasp, Or what's a heaven for?"
~ Robert Browning

Social Media Groups: A Veritable Microcosm of the Banana Republic Paradigm

One really should think very carefully about whether they really want to be in so many Facebook groups. Which, you do realize, the designers of the widely consumed social media site tend to heavily promote in the hopes of keeping large numbers of users immersed in the use of their platform for hours and hours on end - when maybe, just maybe, most of us really could (or should) be doing something else, something much more productive or beneficial with our valuable time.

Of course, I too like to find like-minded people to share my hobbies and interests with, and thereby conveniently connect with them via a remarkably versatile electronic platform such as Facebook, but the unfortunate fact remains that a whole lot of these social media groups actually end up serving as a vehicle for a high school (or even mafia) style clique to form; a cloistered, insular little world with its own built-in social structure (aka, pecking order), with a curious and sometimes rather shockingly obvious pseudo-cult-like dichotomy.

Take for example, the fact many of these clique-centric groups tend to be headed up by a more or less charismatic leader, who naturally provides a kind of dogma - a strictly defined way of behaving and even thinking that one is highly discouraged to not deviate from. Therefore, if one happens to not agree with any or even ALL of the established guidelines and strictures of a given group, they obviously do not really belong. After all, dogma is dogma. The rules are the rules. In other words, one is required to drive safely between the painted lines, and stop when and where indicated. And if you don't... well, you're a rule-breaker, a miscreant, a truant. That's just how it works.

And just like in the Real World, the one beyond our all-consuming personal computer monitors, when you get out of line (even just a little), there is always someone waiting to slap you down. Sometimes they slap you down gently. Sometimes however, they tend to be much, much more overbearing. Which is all fine, I guess. Because, after all, the group belongs to the charismatic leader and his or her trusted compatriots, doesn't it? They started the whole shebang in the first place, so obviously, they can do whatever they want. Within reason, of course.

But sometimes this head honcho, this "Grand Poobah," this charismatic Mao Zedong type dude who started the group in the first place has more than just a few simple rules. Sometimes they even have something akin to a "Little Red Book" (the Chinese Communist bible, for those not familiar with the man and his mythology). Sometimes though, the charismatic leader type person, the veritable Moses of any given Facebook group, doesn't even have time for all those tempestuous commandments! Sometimes, the group itself is merely a vehicle designed to worship the vaunted Numero Uno, the god-like el Presidente of their very own electronic banana republic. But then... little tin gods, or just mere shepherds, as the case may in fact be, also tend to be rather busy watching over their flock (or basking in the glow of their very own heavenly glory), you know.

So obviously, group leaders need lieutenants. They need enforcers. Therefore, as a natural result, there are usually at least a couple of 'Oz the Great and Powerful' types, who serve as almighty "group moderators." Sometimes there are even half a dozen of these free ranging, mounted policing sort of fellows. Or, God forbid, even more than that! In fact, some lesser group members, who may actually be positioned a bit further down on ye olde Totem Pole, are in fact so overzealous, and eager to climb the ladder skyward, just to hopefully ingratiate themselves with the Great Leader, that they tend to assume the unofficial role of moderator.

These self-appointed grand wizards of social media are always lurking in the background, ready to lower the boom on nasty miscreants. It's not even consciously vicious on their part most of the time though, thank God. Nah! That's just how human group dynamics tend to work, you see. Because obviously, there is always a natural need to both monitor and moderate what everyone in a given group writes or shares. Obviously. I mean, what if someone shares a sexually suggestive, or downright pornographic image? What if someone suddenly decides it's okay to make negative comments about a given race or ethnic group? What if someone is just too clueless to realize that they really shouldn't be dropping the F-bomb all willy-nilly on a social media platform that is actually intended to appeal to people of all age groups?

So let's be honest then; some people are simply not as nice, tactful, or polite as others. Some people are even rather clueless, and don't even seem to realize what they're really up to. They simply do not think too awful much, or deeply enough, rather, before they suddenly share a potentially disruptive post, and then... hastily press ENTER. But mostly, I think everyone at the heart of any given dispute or social media group kerfuffle actually just secretly covets the group leader's lofty position.

I mean, "Everybody wants to rule the world," don't they? Well, certainly not everyone, but you get the point. So, whether we all realize it or not, some folks within the group dynamic are just not quite as content as they really could or should be to simply be a mere member. You known, just another face in the crowd. After all, it's the group leader's world, you know. Get out of line, and you may get the cyber equivalent of ye olde death ray; the cruel and immediately punishing lighting bolt that suddenly comes raining down from the Internet heavens above to smite the wicked. Hence, the need for strictly defined group rules in the very first place.

Unfortunately however, overly restrictive Facebook group rules, or needlessly overbearing group moderators, can often stimulate the inadvertent creation of certain individuals who themselves may not realize that they have indeed become what is commonly known as a "troll." And as everybody who's ever been in any social media group for any appreciable length of time well knows, a troll is any particularly troublesome person who may, for various reasons, tend to feel quite alienated from (or simply in disagreement with) many of the other members. In other words, they feel (or may simply be made to feel) like a typical outsider.

It should be noted however, that these pesky trolls are often actually just deeply frustrated people who, for whatever reason, simply feel that they do not belong. They may even see some key flaw, or even a whole array of flaws, in the established parameters of the group dynamic, and therefore feel the need to antagonize, or "needle," the group leader and his or her wolf pack every single chance they get. In other words, a troll likes to harass the herd, perhaps in the hopes of picking off and feasting upon the life-giving crimson gore of the weakest (or simply most vulnerable) members when their carefully timed shenanigans inevitably cause a frightful stampede - or rather, a mass disruption of the otherwise calm and contented overall demeanor of the flock.

Because, really, that's actually what it's like when you're part of a group-think mentality. One really is just another one of the hopefully contented grazing herd - whether this fact may be fully realized or not. Which is a dichotomy that is perfectly fine for some, but for others, it may actually be a matter of waiting in the wings, always hoping beyond hope to one day be the next big, self-aggrandizing group leader type person, whose own excrement supposedly doesn't stink like everybody else's most certainly does. And yes, I really do think that most people really are just that tribal. I think human beings as a whole are often simply far too group-centric for their own good. Oh well.

Recreational Drug Use, Peer Pressure, and What It Really Means to Be All Grown Up

Here's the thing; I really like chocolate. I also like to drink a nice cup of tea almost every day. Yet even (and especially) people of the Mormon Faith aren't supposed to consume certain types of one of my all time favorite beverages. 'Cause, believe it or not, caffeine really is a mild stimulant. It's a drug. Likewise, at some point, somewhere down the line, such as in ancient Middle Eastern societies (primarily Jewish and Muslim), someone or other suddenly decided that they'd better not eat animals with ("parted") cloven hooves. Okay, okay, so God told someone or other among them not to partake. And that's perfectly okay, right? I mean, as they say, "To each his own." You know, "free will," "religious freedom," and all that.

But you know what? In addition to chocolate and many different types of teas (some that contain caffeine and many that do not), I also really love bacon. And when I say, "I love bacon," I mean I really, really love bacon. In fact, to me, there's just about nothing better for breakfast (or lunch, dinner, or even just a snack) than a whole plateful of nice, crispy, salty-sweet strips of well cooked porcine flesh.

What's more, I just happen to currently live in East Asia, where pork is a practically indispensable food stuff. You really wanna get even with authoritarian, organ harvesting, human rights abusing Communist China for starting yet another global pandemic? Just take all their pork away! Sounds silly, I know, but literally billions of people the whole world over would probably starve in pretty short order if all the pigs in the whole entire world were to suddenly die off en masse.

But me, I prefer chocolate. Though bacon is a close second. Or is it the other way around? Hmm. Well anyway, I eat something with chocolate on or in it at least once every single day for months at a time sometimes. No foolin! I mean, let's not forget that even Mormons eat chocolate. Or so I'm told. I'm not Mormon myself, so I think I'll just have to take the Internet's word for it.

Yet despite my sincere and abiding love for this often sugar-saturated tasty treat, I sometimes I go for literally weeks at a time when I don't eat any chocolate at all. And yet, curiously enough, I end up experiencing absolutely no withdrawal symptoms. No lying in the gutter because I'm unable to even think of anything except that next piece of chocolate, yet another Snicker's Bar, or even a scrumptious double decker, choco crunch ice cream cone. Sometimes, I actually even prefer vanilla. Blasphemous, I know, but... what's a guy to do, eh?

Yet still, believe it or not, I can also go for long periods of time when I don't eat chocolate at all. And that right there is the point, you see. In other words, my strong preference for chocolate may indeed be habitual in nature, but it's most certainly not indicative of any sort of addiction.

So that's why I actually do eat chocolate. Because choosing to periodically indulge in the joys of that particular sugar-sweeteed, cocoa-infused concoction simply does not affect most people in any appreciably negative fashion. Sure, it's often packed full of sugar and does contain mood emhancing chemical compounds, but eating chocolate doesn't cause significantly delayed response times and the markedly slowed reflexes that are commonly associated with the consumption of alcoholic beverages. Nor is it particularly prone to give most folks "the munchies." Or cause them to gradually withdraw from society, due to, perhaps, conspicuous over-consumption. Though I'm not entirely sure that all recreational drugs need be used more than once before they end up practically enslaving the user.

Worst of all though, I've even noticed that if I have a big package of Hershey bars, and I'm at a party, or some other typically shallow, show-offy public gathering, and I ask everyone, "Hey, do you all want one of my Hershey bars?" some will say yes, and take one. And some won't. Some will say, "No thanks, I'm on a diet." Still others may say, "Oh man, I wish I could, but I'm diabetic." And that's that. Dude or dudette said no. And the last time I checked, no most certainly meant just exactly that; NO.

Right?

But, let's just say, hypothetically, that you're at a party, or some other so-called "social" gathering, and somebody is drinking alcohol, certain individuals just tend to simply not be able to "drink alone." And by that, I mean if even just one person is doing his or her very best to get inebriated, so they can... I don't know... lose all their inhibitions, and gradually stop being able to even speak clearly, to the point where they often end up spitting in other people's faces, or manhandling them, while their words all start to slur together, they simply must get everyone else to join them in "the fun." I mean, that's the way it usually works, isn't it? No chemicals, no "social lubrication." Or... something like that.

Or maybe, curiously reckless individuals like this are simply motivated to slurp down copious amounts of whatever noxious libation they can get a hold of just so they can hopefully trick other members of the group into engaging in some sort of impromptu sexual activity. Something that not everyone involved may be able to fully recall later on. But I guess whatever it takes to get what you want from others, right? Although... I really don't think I'd want anything like that from anybody if I had to resort to getting it in that particular way.

I mean, yuck. And here I thought that consent was actually supposed to count for something when it comes to being a "consenting adult." But maybe that's just me.

Whatever the case may in fact be, I've just noticed over the years, that if I eat too many chocolate bars and then get behind the wheel of a motor vehicle, there is almost no chance whatsoever that all that sugar and caffeine will actually do anything more than simply sharpen my senses. See, that's why, in most cases, caffeine is fully legal and mostly unregulated almost everywhere in the world. Because, in most cases, it's just plain harmless. Okay, okay! In fact, chocolate also contains phenethylamine, a chemical that actually makes people feel more romantic. That's why it's such a staple of Valentine's Day festivities, and why, in the good old days anyway, when a guy wanted to impress a girl, he might give her a nice box of chocolates. And maybe some flowers too, of course.

But here's the thing; if I'm at some stupid party or "social" gathering, and I say, "No thanks" when someone wants me to "have a beer," or even do something else that's even stronger, everyone seems to suddenly turn into a horde of pubescent, peer-pressured high schoolers, and they look at you like you're some kind of creature from another planet or something! So that's why I never go to parties anymore. Or even class reunions. Ever. As in, never ever never.

Oh, I've tried over the years, to visit a "pub" or two, especially while I was teaching English in Taiwan, just to get out and meet people, but there always seemed to be some jerky little person in those kind of places - sometimes even the "friend" I came with - who would simply not listen when I said NO. And then they even ended up buying both of us glasses of this or that alcoholic beverage, and then they'd just sit there, just waiting for me to take a swig

But I never did. Ever. Which, yes, just in case you were wondering, I do know, really is rather odd when it comes to most members of this here fancy human race.

Once, in Taipei, Taiwan, I had this one girlfriend for a while. Nice girl. A very talented artist, she was. So anyway, one year, for Chinese New Year, or whatever it was, she invited me to her family's house for dinner. Her parents weren't even there, but one of her overly cocky A**hole Chinese American cousins from California just happened to be visiting family in Taipei. You know, the kind of guy who probably grew up feeling rather insecure because most of the "cool" guys around him were either black or Caucasian surfer dudes. Or... whatever this guy's personal problem may have in fact been.

And despite the fact that this hipster dude was told in advance that I never drink alcohol, he just kept giving me that "Are you serious?" look. And he kept repeating, "Like... you mean... never?" in that deep, overly "masculine" sort of voice that I've noticed that many clearly overcompensating individuals tend to affect sometimes. But hey! Maybe it really was his real voice. Who knows. I just know that in more than five years living and working in all sorts of places all over Taiwan, I never met any other Chinese/Taiwanese person who talked or presented himself quite the way this horrifically macho California Taiwanese dude did. "ABC" (American Born Chinese), they call them in Taiwan. But they're not all the same, of course. In fact, I've met some really nice ABCs. But that guy.... Uh-uh. Nope.

Whatever the problem may have in fact been, like other people I've unfortunately encountered throughout the course of my life, this cousin of my former girlfriend decided, like some kind of demented, socially challenged high school bully, that he was just going to have to make me drink. So he had a glass of whatever it was passed down from his end of the long dinner table to me. But being a dedicated teetotaler, I of course refused. And that did not make him at all happy. Not at all. No, not one little bit.

I mean, don't you just hate it when people don't get what they want by coercion, peer pressure, or even brute force?

So you see, that's what's actually really funny about socially acceptable drugs, you know. A person says no, but certain individuals just keep right on pushing. So, for some odd reason, when it comes to addictive, mind altering substances, many, many people just simply will not take NO for an answer! Go figure.

And then I look around, and I see all the lonely people standing or sitting around in some dingy, smoke-filled, often dark and extremely noisy drinking establishment, and almost none of them look all that happy to me. Even and especially when they start to get drunk and act really, really stupid. And irresponsible. Or even, sometimes, so aggressively, and even violently, that the bar, pub, or restaurant owner actually has to have some typically over-sized dude or other on staff on a regular basis, just to throw all the pathetic people who just don't seem to be able to resist overdoing it out ye olde door. I mean... they actually to pay people to do that.

And that right there, kids, is exactly why you can take your booze, and all your other "socially acceptable" drugs, and stick 'em right where the sun don't shine.  But... that's only if you won't take no for an answer, of course. Otherwise, "To each his own." Right?