Posts Tagged ‘1’

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God’s Lesson in Responsible Parenting

June 18, 2018

So, if an American citizen with a child is caught breaking a law, that citizen is separated from their child…

And that child usually then stays with a relative.

But if that child is an illegal immigrant or a refugee, he or she goes to live in a dog kennel or a chicken coop.

 

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A Progressive Girl and a Snake

February 24, 2018

I have heard this “classic” American folk story too many times. The first time I heard ‘Girl and the Snake’, by the way, was in a church service. I was about ten. Back then, I chuckled because I was a sadistic child and because everyone laughed. But I have grown, I got myself educated. And so, too, has the innuendo of the cruel tale gotten old. It now has fangs, thanks to America’s Pretender-Of-The-United-States. Because of this liar, the country is all a shame. Since I am now a responsible adult, I take it upon myself to renovate an ugly and stale yarn. Voters, themselves, in 2018 and 2020 will have to restore honor to our nation. – Matthew Sawyer (AKA Mr. Binger)

 

A Progressive Girl and a Snake

A college-educated Black woman walks to her grandmother’s home and she hears leaves rustle beside her foot. Before she jumps away, a snake speaks her. It’s thoughts fill her head with a southern drawl of American English. The reptile says, “Help me, it’s so cold. I will freeze to death”

“It’s not that cold,” the girl inadvertently replied aloud. She was not, at first, willing to play games nor be suckered into a practical joke. Everything seemed too real. The diamond-shaped pattern on it’s skin suggested this was a rattlesnake.

Remembering scripture the young lady had put aside long ago with all childish things, she tells the snake, “The only talking reptile I know about is the devil in the Bible. I don’t believe in all of that.”

“Anyway, you’re lips aren’t moving – just that pointy little tongue. You’re talking to me in my head.”

“You might be hallucinating,” replied the snake.

She tells it, “I don’t use drugs.”

“Maybe, I’m a scientific experiment,” answered the snake. “I am the genetically enhanced step in evolution.”

“All right,” said the girl. “I suppose someone is looking for you.”

“That, too,” the snake shouted with thoughts. “Please, take me with you. I’m in trouble for my life. They want to perform experiments on me!”

“All right,” she said yet reluctant. “I’m, uh, gonna use a stick and pick you up. I don’t want to get bit.”

“That’s fair, I understand,” the snake pretended to say. Carried along as if resting on tree branch, the snake tells the girl, “Thank you, you are my first human friend. I promise I would never bite you.”

“Don’t say things like that,” she said to the snake. “That’s just a lie.”

“Where are you taking me?” suddenly wondered the snake. The reptile shivered in discomfort that was not related to the weather.

“I gonna show you to my friends. Maybe, we can put some corks on your fangs.”

“What?” shouted the snake which now squirmed.

“We can’t cut them off,” promised the grinning girl. “That would be cruel. Nah, I’m just kidding.”

“I hope so,” pleaded the snake. “Will you still help me hide from the government?”

“Sure,” she said, “But there has got to be some changes.”

The snake wonders, “Like what?”

“If we’re going to be friends,” said the girl, “There are going to be conditions. I’m no fool. I’ll have to build up an immunity to your venom – not poison, so you know: I know the difference. We need an anti-venom. Hey, maybe we can sell your venom to a laboratory and make money.”

The snake tells the girl, “You sound smart.”

She tells it, “I am, just don’t bite anybody I don’t want you to.”

“Where would you be without me? A talking snake? You would be dead if I didn’t come around. Welcome to my world. We now have something called a social contract. Do you understand what that is?”

The snake asks her, “Tell me.”

“It means,” she says, “We have an unspoken commitment to cooperate with each other and make the world a better place. It means we don’t hurt each other. That’s how a civilized society works – if you have the capacity for speech, surely, you must understand that concept. Language is what separates us from just being animals.”

Then, to the snake, it seemed universal truth became revealed. The animal achieves enlightenment. It’s conscious fully awakes. “Yes,” it said. “It is so plain, it does not require hallucinogenics to see. I am more than my mere nature.”

That is when the snake and the progressive girl became friends. And they were bounded to each other all their lives, which was short on account snakes live only twenty years and this one had been mutilated at the cellular level with unthinkable modifications. And, oh yes, that snake did bite the brave girl, but when that happened, she was already immune.

END

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Fondness of Monsters

February 2, 2018

Because I’m someone with a life-long fondness for monsters, I imagine someone might ask, “Why, then, do you like ordinary sparrows?”

“Well,” I tell my imaginary inquirer, “I like when they come for breakfast, and they wait for me on the stairs all bunched together.”

I know the birds instinctively approach big creatures in groups. They try to look big, but mine come together to no larger than a cat sprawled upon a stairwell – a feathered cat with a dozen beady eyes and half as many sharp beaks. It’s adorable.

 

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Princess and the Pee

January 30, 2018

Imagine President Trump has a new game show in the White House. He calls the televised production, ‘Princess and the Pea’. Everyone in his cabinet must participate – it’s a purity test. You see, Republicans love their purity tests (they tell us). The President of the United States describes his idea to the American people in a recorded message. “How it goes…”

“Get a hundred mattresses, nice, beautiful foam mattresses. Unbelievable.”

“Put those mattresses, all of them, on top of an illegal immigrant – a Middle Eastern refugee would be nice, but a Mexican will do. They come in the same colors. Actually, anybody anywhere south of the border is good. Stop at Brazil. I have friends in Brazil.”

“Once you get all those mattresses on top of the pea, I call it, the illegal immigrant, crawl on top. Get up there, Sarah.”

The president shouts up to his press secretary. “Lie down.”

He then whispers to the camera. “She’s good at this, I think she’ll be good.”

“If she can’t fall asleep because she feels an illegal immigrant is under her bed, she wins. She’s a real Republican.”

“You know who I think will know?” the president pondered aloud. “Stephen Miller will know, he’s good at this. He says he can smell them.”

“You know what? I believe him. I think he can. We, me and my team and I, we made him put his dirty underwear over his head and close his eyes and he could still point at Ben.”

 

 

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The Context of Guilt

November 2, 2017

It occurs to me, much of the guilt I feel is taken out of context. So, I put myself back into those situations.

I ask myself, ‘Could I have done something differently? Could I have been better prepared for that situation?’

‘Would the outcome have been any better?’

‘Hey, would I have even been in that situation if I was better prepared?’

‘Probably’, I tell myself. Then I think, ‘Could things have been much worst?’

‘Possibly’, I answer.

 

– Matthew Sawyer

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The Hunchback of Sleepy Hollow

October 26, 2017

Having crossed the bridge, Ichabod relaxes and he tells his disabled hero, “We’re safe. The demon cannot cross running water.”

Quasimodo cries taunts at the headless horseman. “Sanctuary, sanctuary!”

The horseman there dismounts his black stead upon the opposite shore. The demon then finds a pumpkin patch and it begins tossing the gourds into the water. So many pumpkins go into the stream that the flow slows to a trickle then stops…

Happy Halloween!

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Fumigator of Souls

October 15, 2017

My neighbor behind me is a slob, Exterminators have told me so much. The man never cleans his apartment. His place is infested with bugs. My bathroom and his kitchen share the plumbing and the east wall. Cockroaches come through the plaster and between wooden beams. They squeeze under un-stuck caulk and into my bathtub.

When they stare up at me, each pressing themselves up onto a slanted, six-legged stance, I sometimes think, “If reincarnation were true, and there was a karma that only the sacrifice of life satisfies, I think they beg me for death.

Sure, a last surge of self-preservation overcomes them all before each are squashed, but they go to a better life, I suppose. If it all were true, I make believe I satisfy karma in acting as their executioner. And as an atheist, I have no concern for an afterlife of my own. In my time on earth, I become a remorseless fumigator of souls.

 

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