What’s Behind the Door?


Every hour, day, week, month, and year that we experience and every place we visit, opens the door to the unknown…to the future. The future is an assumption based on our mortality. The experience of the future is a probability based on the past. We are taking a chance when we open any door to any place or time. We never really know what lays ahead.

The present, if narrowly defined, is a fleeting experience which cannot be defined, explained, or contemplated.

The past offers some hope for certainty. But the truth of the past depends solely on the agenda of the storyteller and his access to factual information. Therefore, any retelling of past events, is only an approximation, an interpretation, a summation, or categorization. It is not the truth.  The door to historical “truth” swings on the squeaky hinges of storyteller bias and the quality of the event documentation.

This year, doors opening across the world may present a surprising and shocking future not anticipated based on the purported events of the past. Strap it down and cinch it up!

Booze and Pot


In 1933 Franklin Roosevelt became President of the United States. Nine days after his inauguration, he called for the elimination of Prohibition. “I think this would be a good time for a beer,” he said, and by the end of the year, Congress enacted a new amendment to the Constitution and repealed the Prohibition amendment. This was  extremely popular with the public and provided a great deal of goodwill for the new president.

Will President Trump do the same thing for marijuana? Will he legalize it for recreational sale and consumption? In my latest book, Saving Trump, pot legalization becomes the new reality

Frank on Freedom

the_famous_mustache_and_goatee-2photo Jean-Luc Creative Commons

“The illusion of freedom will continue as long as it’s profitable to continue the illusion. At the point where the illusion becomes too expensive to maintain, they will just take down the scenery, they will pull back the curtains, they will move the tables and chairs out of the way and you will see the brick wall at the back of the theater.”  – Frank Zappa

History is a Fallen Tree


History is the foundation of our understanding of reality. It creates a context for all current and future events. Reality feels comfortable when today’s activities dovetail tightly into our belief in the veracity and continuity of past events. Thus, new events appear to grow like leaves on the branches of the current paradigm. But this is a deception. History is just a diseased collection of stories, opinions, and lies—all subject to distorted shaping by those who are empowered to write history books.  The tree of history is an unreliable, defective and unstable organism.

History is an aging tree which weakens as it gets larger, older, and more vulnerable. It grew from sturdy facts. Something happened which could be verified—a ship went down, a military base was attacked, a political figure died. People saw something happen and it appeared real. The viewers may even have created a hard-copy of the event. But the tree of history is an unnatural assemblage of carefully connected lies, coloration, distortions, delays and half-truths presented by the leaders of society.

The tree’s trunk is rooted in the gravity of the situations. People have a need to believe in its sturdiness. At one time, people believed the power of a king was absolute. The integrity of political leaders was unquestionable. The decisions of religious leaders were infallible. The events presented by the mainstream media were unassailable. But time has weakened these certainties, and the history tree is now unstable. The winds of war, fate, and dissension are increasing in velocity and duration. The tree is about to fall.

We are nearing the inflection point. We are collectively waiting for the final event to fell the tree—the death of an unknown Archduke, a Pearl Harbor attack, or a Watergate break-in. The tree of history is again teetering. We know it is about to fall. Those who have attached their entire being to belief in its structure will continue to fight to the end to maintain the collection of lies. But the structure is brittle. The old tree is inherently weak. No one can really increase its strength over time. Promoters can only attempt to buttress it with bravado, ridicule, and bluster. In the end, it will fall.

Traditionally, at this moment, the creators of history, decide to fell the tree. They will knock it down rather than have it collapse uncontrolled. They will create war or economic depression, or some other massive grief. They will blame its collapse on somebody or something. They will never admit that they were the creators of the corrupt growth. They will excitedly plant new trees. The old lies will disappear into the dust and rot, and new events and new lies will begin. The people, now broken and disoriented, unsettled in this new unstructured reality, will wholeheartedly become eager and terrified foresters, as they did after the World Wars; after the public murders of John Kennedy, Martin Luther King, and Robert Kennedy; after the bloodshed in Vietnam and Cambodia; after Nixon’s fall; and after the destruction of the Twin Towers. They will grow a new history tree as directed by those in control, and its shady branches may comfort them and their children…for a while.

A Place of Your Own


This is Eleanor Roosevelt’s retreat—a place of her own—a small stone cottage called Val-Kill which was away from her home in New York City, the mansion in Hyde Park, and the White House. This structure was her real home. It was a place away from her famous husband, away from her interjecting mother-in-law, and away from the ever-intruding world. It is said she was happiest in this little home in the country sharing moments with friends, or alone just being herself. Everyone needs a Val-Kill.


img_0159By Joyce Kilmer

I think that I shall never see
A poem lovely as a tree.
A tree whose hungry mouth is prest
Against the earth’s sweet flowing breast;
A tree that looks at God all day,
And lifts her leafy arms to pray;
A tree that may in Summer wear
A nest of robins in her hair;
Upon whose bosom snow has lain;
Who intimately lives with rain.
Poems are made by fools like me,
But only God can make a tree.

Dream, Decide, Embark.


Has your boat washed ashore? Have you run aground? Has life given you a “Notice to Remove”? It may seem that way. But the only life you have is totally controlled by you. Put your hands on either side of your head. Feel anything? That mass of grey cells between your two ears runs the entire show. You are the captain. Realize that today, and remember a time when you were in control. Just you, your little boat, and the wind, the sun, and the sea of life with you at the helm—in charge of the voyage. You’ve been through storms before. You’ve made it. In fact, deep down you enjoyed the battle. You enjoyed the intensity of living. You enjoyed the ability to control your own destiny—dream, decide, embark.

Getting from Here to There

istock_000033218692largeInside this house is an alive little man who takes in and gives out. Every minute of every day his heart beats and retreats; he inhales and exhales; he drinks and urinates; he eats and defecates; he talks and is talked to; he works and he relaxes. He greets his mate and children at the end of the day; he shares a meal; he watches some TV; and then he goes to sleep. In and out, in and out, in and out, he breathes, ingests, and lives…until he doesn’t.