The Devil's Lesson: Never Put Anything Off

I probably shouldn't say, Never put anything off, because I have at least five tasks I could be doing right now. Except, of course, I can't do them all at the same time, so something's got to wait. I'll write this right now.

But you think some things are harmless enough to put off until later, until bitter experience jumps up to bite you on the ass and let you know, You should've done it when you had the chance!

Take this cigarette ashtray outside a major store, pictured above. I was there, sitting on the bench. I looked over at it and thought it'd make a nice picture, since it had about nine cigarette butts squashed in the sand. But, I'm thinking, there's no hurry ... they'll be there when I get around to it ... what's going to happen to them? ... maybe the sun will go down a little and they'll have a more artistic shadow, something evocative of loneliness, heartbreak, and being discarded, something to cheer me up.

I'm sitting there thinking about it, but it takes precious energy to get up and walk the one and a half steps to it, then I'll need to fire up the camera, and further strain my brain getting just the right angle. I'd just had a nap anyway and I was still feeling a little groggy. They'll be there, they're not going anywhere. It's not a cute kid with a rattle who's going to lay it down in five seconds.

Friends, I'm here to tell you, the devil is real. That's the only explanation that fits. The devil is real. And his main purpose in his infinitely sad and miserable existence is to screw with my head and make my life sadder. Oh yes, he dangles all the various temptations in front of my wondering eyes, but for the most part I've learned to say no to all that glitters, since in the long run it too will make my life miserable. But I'm thinking -- obviously -- there's very little percentage in the devil's favor to deny me an evocative picture, one stinking picture, of a bunch of squashed cigarette butts. But I was mistaken...

I'm sitting there, literally a step and a half from the disposal, when a guy, noiselessly, without a sound and without a glance or peep my way, rides up on a bike and proceeds to quickly take the butts out of the disposal one by one, until he's gotten eight or so, then puts them in his shirt pocket, and rides away.

I couldn't believe it. It sickened me, for obvious reasons. Smoking isn't good for you in the first place, let alone what you're likely to get out of a bunch of butts smoked by total strangers. But the really important reason why my stomach suddenly went sour, and replanted the seed of devil belief in my mind, coarsened by modern scientific knowledge against devil belief, was that I was deprived of the picture I had envisioned.

It stands against reason is a dozen different ways. But I'll just sketch out a few. 1) I've never sat on that bench before; 2) I've never contemplated getting a picture of that cigarette disposal before; 3) I've never seen someone ride a bike up and essentially empty one out; 4) The fact that it had to happen right that second, at that very instant, the very time that, within a few minutes, probably, I would have been taking the picture, boggles my mind. You think, No! The positive spin is it does once again grant me a place at the center of the universe, so maybe it's not such a bad tradeoff.

We've agreed it's totally against reason, that much is sure. And yet it happened just the way I described it! But perhaps oddest of all is this, the open question of why he left one butt behind!? That's what I have in the picture above, one cigarette butt! This guy removed them efficiently, one at a time, shamelessly, but then, against reason, left one behind. That's one of the questions killing me.

Could it be (and this is a serious question), could it be that someone so frugal as to be recycling used cigarette butts would also have the ethics to not take them all? This is serious business, something like Manifest Destiny. If you colonize and you take it all, that's one mindset. But if you somehow move in and coexist, that would be another. It would still be pretty bad if you moved in and took 90%, which is approximately how many butts the guy took. But if it's only used cigarette butts you're taking -- which are generally considered worthless -- and you leave nearly 10% for some other poor soul to come, that's a fairly decent ethic.

Or, think of this, what if he leaves one behind to prime the pump, so to speak, so smokers who follow won't think they're disturbing something pristine by leaving their butts? It would be the same principle of hanging a for sale sign and taking one of the phone number stubs yourself. If this is what his motive was, of course that's not as much a humanitarian move as would be leaving the last one for some other poor soul. But still, it's really good thinking!

The way I'm resolving this in my mind is this: It's a lesson to me to never ever again put anything off. If I see something worthy of my artistic photographic talent, get the picture now. And the other resolution to it is to know I have a dreadful enemy in the devil, and if there's any way for him to ruin my best laid plans, he will do it, so I must be continually vigilant.

Everyone Living In Harmony

Today is a day for humanitarianism, celebrating the greatness and possibilities of all people, seeking that they might live together in perfect harmony. And barring that, that they would keep their killing instincts to a minimum.

I felt compelled to do something today, and I went downtown to do it, but then ended up not doing it. Still, it was a lovely gesture, I hope you'll agree. The intention was to do 'man on the street' interviews, then in the course of these to hug everyone.

The feeling still hasn't entirely faded as I write this at 7:35 p.m. I really wanted to do it, to reach out and to hug each one, every hunched over specimen, every free flower I saw. I looked around to see who I might see. I saw some stiff shirts coming my way -- a few with their top button buttoned -- and figured I'd have to avoid them. But everyone else...

Let me make this clear right up front. There was to be no sex involved, which would be a violation of the spirit of the thing. What I had in mind was simply humanitarianism, no strings attached, whether the recipients would've been at work or at play, young or old.

Before I went downtown, I got myself psyched for it by listening to a few pure tones, then reflecting on the vibration of everything. These were imaginary tones, since I can hear them clear as a bell just by sitting peacefully and listening. What I find in those moments is a mystical purity, which then I'm able to match up perfectly as an abiding presence in the spirits of people.

Another good thing to have done -- had I actually done anything -- would've been to hand out flowers. People would be suspicious, of course, since we're trained that way, to suspect the intentions of everyone we meet. And I'm the same way. If someone came up to me to give me a hug and a flower on the street, I'd be very leery. "What is this, some kind of pervert? Some kind of street theater? Some kind of hidden camera show? Something they're going to expect money for? Are they picking my pocket?" But of course since it was me, I knew my intentions were good and hoped that everyone else would know it too.

It's easy to be suspicious, again, because we're trained for it. We know there's a ton of criminals out there just aching to take what is ours. I go around town all the time patting my pocket where I keep my wallet and checkbook. Because any dishonest cretin could sidle up to you and take them. Maybe a little diversion, a distraction, a fast talking hustler meeting you from one direction while another guy comes up and -- oops -- bumps you, and there goes your valuables.

It's all very depressing, what we think of each other. Especially when I have that aching, that yearning to hug everyone and be a humanitarian in practice as well as in theory. I see people walking by and I want to show them the full respect due their nature. And that's huge! We're beholding Universal Consciousness in action, and that's something I cherish. Listen for the pure tone, then read that truth again, it's Universal Consciousness! In all of us. (Although I would exclude a few from my ministrations, including Charles Manson, Sirhan Sirhan, the asshole who killed John Lennon, and all Republican politicians.)

But the others! Good God, how terrific it'd be to hold them in my arms, like a mother or father, and appreciate them. To give them that respite on the street and let them know that someone cherishes them for themselves and for their nature. I'd seek out folks on narrow streets, crooked streets, wide boulevards, those who are peeing in alleys (after waiting for them to finish), people crossing on the green, on the red, and the quick ones on the yellow, people with strong auras, people with weak ones, and even those who are blank and expressionless, the living dead. Even those who button their top button and walk like they might shatter, if I could get up the courage.

If you see me standing there -- in the process of wanting to do this -- please give me a wave. You might be the first one I hug.

My Milkbone Mea Culpa

Going by some of the emails I got since yesterday, some of you think I was pretty "flip" in what I wrote about the Milkbone dog biscuit I've got. Flip, in the sense that I didn't sound sincere about it being my last resort/go-to food in the event that I ran out of other food and money to buy more.

Well, it's the last day of January, and I don't want this weighing on my conscience into a whole new month (February), so let me address the issue right now and hopefully get it over with. Let this be my mea culpa if indeed I have anything to feel guilty about, which really I don't think I do. Because I was 100% sincere.

I was, as I just said, 100% sincere, with this little side note, that I don't really expect to be completely out of food or out of money to buy more. Hence, I don't really expect to have to eat this Milkbone, and so, going by that, I guess I was a little flip, and for that -- mea culpa -- I'm sorry.

The issue some of you had, and I completely understand this, is that there are indeed lots of people out there who are either starving to death or close to it. To me, that's no laughing matter, and I'm 100% sincere about that. It sickens me that in a world where there should be plenty of food, there's not. That's no joke, that's really how I feel. But it's a matter of economics, problems with distribution. There's always some problem with distribution and that is a sickening reality.

This blog's stock in trade is trying to make people smile. If I can toss in a few jokes and make people laugh, that brightens my day ... and I hope theirs. So, let me try to do that, leaving behind the last paragraph, which veered off into a serious subject for which I have no solution. Make distribution better is the solution, but how I'm supposed to do that, sitting here as I am, one guy with a single Milkbone, I don't know.

If I'm ever that bad off, believe me, I'm not likely to think it's funny. Because it wouldn't be. If I'm down to one Milkbone and that's all I have to eat. I was thinking about this today while I was outside scraping some ice off my windshield. I was thinking, "If I'm ever down to one Milkbone -- literally one dog biscuit -- I may as well give it to someone less fortunate, because what good's it really going to do me? If I eat it myself, then die?" But then the question presented itself, "Why aren't I giving it away today? Or why aren't I giving away everything else I have today? Why should I wait till I'm down to it?"

The obvious answer -- which became obvious to me within seconds -- is that if I gave away everything I had, what kind of life would that leave me? Then I'd be at the mercy of the elements. Then I literally would wish I had at least a Milkbone, so I could eat it, then die. Or, as I said above, give it away, because really, what good it going to do me to have one Milkbone to eat, then die?" I may as well die today and spare the world its need to care for me, which it wouldn't anyway, thanks to problems with distribution.

The whole thing, you can see, raises more questions than it answers. Even now I'm sensing some mea culpa feelings again for having even brought it up. Because there's someone out there who would give their eye teeth (is that how the phrase goes) to have this thing. And that's sad, that the stinking distribution system in this world is so piss poor that people can't even have a bare morsel.

We need a world leader -- a benevolent one, not a crappy one -- to get this all figured out. Someone smarter than me, if such a creature exists.

I'm Also A Humanitarian

I saw something yesterday that really caught my attention, that a guy who writes for Huffington Post identifies himself as a humanitarian.

That gets me to thinking, hey, I'm a humanitarian, too! And just beyond humanity being my particular species, since that would be true of everyone. I'm a humanitarian in a touchy, feely, sympathetic way. I've been walking the walk, but I haven't been talking the talk, mostly because it never occurred to me.

I owe a lot of my humanitarianism, of course, to my family, since they're the ones who brought me up in such a good, wholesome way. We had plenty of opportunities over the years to think about the lives of others and how they related to us. And with that, the opportunities led to all sorts of encounters, sharing sympathy, empathy, a smile, other emotions, and goodwill with others.

We weren't a spotless family, by any means. We had our problems and prejudices like everyone else. And pride as well. So I heard plenty of nasty comments about people, just the kinds of things that might veer me off the right path and not toward the path of humanitarianism that I found and kept.\

Let's think about racial matters. The town here didn't have any black folk, not a one, so there weren't all that many chances for dealings with them. And people were looser with their lips back then on some of the epithets, like Mark Twain, not really meaning anything terrible by it. But I didn't hate any of them. Then for a week many years ago, we had a couple of black kids who came to stay at our place. I guess they were troubled youth, foster kids, having troubles at home. We got along with them fine. But I remember a fight they had, a big fight, and one of them called the other the N word. That blew our minds. It was unforgettable. (One other thing about these black kids. It was reported at the time that the town had an ordinance that a black person couldn't be in the town overnight, probably going back to underground railroad days.)

I was always told, despite what words we may have heard and what prejudice may have been in the air, to treat them just like anyone else, words to the effect that we're all the same, etc. So that's what I've pretty well gone by. Now I'm practically to the point where I don't even notice what color anyone is. And I actually like to notice, because to me they're some of the most beautiful people on earth, and that goes big time for Hispanics too. So, I hope I didn't say anything too politically correct. But when you're a humanitarian (like me), you have to be open about your feelings.

I saw a black guy at Walmart yesterday and I was staring at him a little too long. Because I'd seen him somewhere in the last couple days and couldn't remember where. And I wanted to be nice, because maybe we shared something in common. But he noticed me looking, didn't recognize me, and said 'Hello' in an uncomfortable way. I started thinking, That guy probably thinks I was looking at him like a racist would ... which I wasn't.

And remember, calling myself a humanitarian, I'm not bragging here, not at all. I didn't even realize I was a humanitarian till I saw the guy on Huffington Post. And that really impressed me! Seriously. I'm not bragging, but I go out of my way to be ultra nice to people. This may sound contradictory, but bear with me. I'm so ultra nice to a lot of people that I don't look at them or say a word or even acknowledge them there. Because I perceive that's exactly what they'd like, not to be bothered by an undiscerning humanitarian trying to stick his nose in their business.

So you might see me on the bus, let's say. And I noticed you get on and sit right across from me. But as far as you're concerned, my thoughts are a million miles away. But I've actually got my humanitarian feelers out, watching for any way that I might assist you, and trying to make it appear as casual as possible. And just like appearing to ignore you, as above, if you really need help, I might ignore you then, too, because I don't want to encroach on your independence in life. Sometimes it really takes something for me to stick my nose in. But when I do -- believe me -- you'll know you've been helped. Like Lone Ranger help, then I'll sneak out the back door and ride off to the next town on my pet horse Silver.

You might ask, am I a big humanitarian when it comes to charity? I have to confess, no I'm not. Or maybe I am, in the sense that I would give to charity if I thought it was on the up and up and actually doing any good. Because my opinion of most of it is that it's a scam. Like the "Sheriffs' Association" selling light bulbs for blind children. Give me a break. To me, it's possible that's where the people on the west side of town get their big money, by running charity scams and skimming off all the money. Maybe I'm wrong, but I'd love to see the uncooked books! As for international charities, the little kids in villages on TV, I have my doubts about all that. Whether those organizations are really doing them any good. Again, I may be wrong, but that's an avenue my humanitarianism hasn't gone yet.

Closer to home, though, and excluding possible charity scams, I'm as good a humanitarian as you're likely to find. I'm even a humanitarian to animals, never wanting to tamper with their little habitats. And I take my dog out at regular times. Animals really have no better friend than me, except the ones I eat, like the bacon I had today. And even there, what's a pig got to live for anyway? I did him a favor.

Now that my eyes have been opened to this designation, this identification, I am happy to count myself among the number of humanitarians, like the guy on Huffington Post. I don't know how many other folks are legitimate humanitarians. Maybe it's me and that guy. It's likely, just to be realistic, that there's lots more out there who, possibly like me, haven't realized it. Are you a humanitarian? I'm happy to say I am.