The God Particle


Got all into something called “The God Particle” this week.   I believe in God. In spite of my shifts in concepts, I have always believed in an unmoved mover. I watched the most beautifully produced documentary just the other day about the proofs behind this and in the end found out that it had been made by Muslims. In the conclusion of the work the narrator says, “Allah,” but by this time I’d forwarded it to a lot of my believing friends. Being a reasoning person I had to accept that truth is truth. The video scientifically analyzed the mathematical preciseness of the organization of the universe, and demonstrated that how if one tiny thing were not exactly in place the whole thing would disintegrate into utter chaos. It addressed evolution by demonstrating that there was a certain level of geological history where life virtually exploded and contrary to Darwin’s idea that life evolved from a single root that grew upward in ever increasing diversity, the “tree” was actually upside down and life had in effect came into existence quiet suddenly and began to “fine tune” as some species failed the test and disappeared from the scene. It showed an equation called 1.618 that governed everything from the shape of galaxies to the number of petals on a sunflower, to the proportions of a pretty girl’s face. And it was put together by Muslims!


     Then I spent several days watching a series called, “How The Earth Was Made,” and got the same information. The very planet we call home is so complex, with intertwining systems so closely connected that it is almost beyond comprehension. One segment explained how Antarctica, with all of its inhospitable conditions, virtually controls our entire weather system by producing brine that creeps along the ocean floor thereby articulating the currents that flow around the globe. One last video studied what would happen if the earth’s rotation slowed only one mile per hour and the result would be devastating! The very moon operates as a balance, keeping the earth rotation in a synced fashion, enabling the weather system to remain constant, within certain parameters which, if it were not so, one year New York would be New York, and the next it may be situated near one of the poles.


     Great minds, such as Stephen Hawking say that when things get too complicated the theist will just fall back on a “god” in a vain effort to avoid the question, while they, themselves, when their own model fails will suggest a multiple-universe theory in effect claiming that if the model doesn’t work just apply layer upon layer until it does or any opposition simply gives up in exasperation.


     My concept of God is that of a great creative force that we, as mortals, will never understand, we aren’t capable. Jesus was strapped with trying to educate simple fishermen, a tax collector, and a few women as to the way the universe works. Did He try to explain the time-space continuum to them? Certainly not! At the last supper, did he try to hold a lecture on molecular reorganization, or the presence of dark matter, no. He held up a piece of bread and told them, “This is my body. Whenever you have this ritual you need to remember that!” Jesus was explaining to them in terms they could get their minds around. They understood the Passover, and all it meant to them, as Jews, and He was the ultimate Passover for all people.


     We, as Christians, no, let me rephrase that, as believers, have to accept that there are some who will never accept our concept, or explanations for the order of the universe no matter how persuasive our argument. For all their scientific method they will abandon it, and proceed on the premise that there simply cannot BE a god and any system that makes that claim is simply rejected outright. You will never change these people. I didn’t change my ideas while watching all of the documentaries I cited above. They merely reinforced what I already suspected. And, if you will note, when you forget about all the arguments about Jesus and Mohammed, the Muslim work was outstanding in its direct analyzation of the science of mathematics and the correlation to the universe.


     As believers, our explanations look absurd to atheists. Atheists have a hands on, linear methodology in their universal view, but does that make them evil? Certainly not! A girl in high school on the East Coast wanted to start a club geared to atheists like herself so she, and other likeminded kids could gather and discuss ideas, and feel a oneness. At first the school absolutely forbade it, but after the ACLU got involved she was allowed to form her group, but was then bullied into giving it up by the “Christian” community around her. Tell me how those “Christians” were any different than a radical Muslim who believes he must destroy all “infidels” to spread his “faith?” She was accused of being a Satanist. This is so far in left field if defies explanation but I’ll try. A Satanist is a believer. Jesus said, “Even the demons believe in God, and they tremble.” People who subscribe to this mind set believe there is a god but choose the opposite path. To me they’re like the kid, when we all went to the movies on Saturday, who would cheer for the guy in the black hat. For whatever psychological reason they have rejected what is regarded as proper by most other believers for the side that is completely opposite to that. The atheist simple rejects any spiritual explanation of the universe, preferring a physical model instead.


     As long as you live you will be formulating your world view. Mine has evolved so much that it barely resembles what was in my head at sixteen years old. The one constant remains: There has to be a designer for such a finely turned situation. Can I explain this to a non-believer? Nope. Can I, myself even ever completely understand this designer? Absolutely not! Should I judge, or cast stones at someone who doesn’t subscribe to my very own ever changing view? Well, Jesus, Himself, said, “Judge not lest you be judged.” Now, He didn’t say that to be clever. He said that because He knew we could never get our finite minds around the infinite. I am comfortable with accepting Biblical principles. The young atheist simply is not.


     I am always amazed at the knee-jerk reaction to any inclusion of Biblical principles in government. Put a statue of the ten commandments on the courthouse lawn and certain groups lose their collective minds. The ten commandments are an early example of codified law given to a bunch of people trying to carve out a civilized existence out of a horrible situation.     I hear all the time about the separation of church and state, but that’s not what the first amendment is all about It says, “Congress shall make no law respecting the ESTABLISHMENT of religion …” It forbids Congress from jumping up and making the Baptist Church the official religion of the United States. It does NOT nullify bringing your morals, common sense or life experiences to the table when you vote, or make decisions. How else can you make these decisions? You see, that’s what’s wrong with this whole idea that we have to blindly accept that we really have no opinion or options when it comes to government. When Congress sits in session can they impose religious guidelines and restrictions on the rest of us? Constitution says they cannot. Can they let their experience, morality, and personal beliefs guide how they will vote? You bet they can, and DO! Should they have anything to do with the little atheist girl wanting to form a club with her likeminded friends? Well, that’s where my Libertarian beliefs kick in. They have a right to their beliefs, and she has a right to hers!


     You will never convert this little girl. Conversion comes from within. You will never scare a gay person straight. For whatever psychological reasons that mold our sexuality it is OUR mold. Our INDIVIDUAL mold. Lead by example. Live your lives by your principles and if those principles are sound, kind,and not bigoted there are those who will approve. Cast your bread upon the water, and maybe, just maybe, you’ll get back a sandwich! And that, my friends, is the true God Particle.




I get into a little light religion here and there, and really enjoy going on YouTube and watching the denominations tear each other up. On The Eighth Day God Made Texas was a little jab at a guy I caught trying to tear the Salt Lake City Temple down brick by brick.

Ah So! was actually a much older article, but the song has remained so much the same I just dusted it off and threw it up. Saw a Chinese billionaire today, as a matter of fact, and yet again wonderer, didn’t these people used to be communist?

I drew Scared from the fact that most people are scared of the government. You simply can’t watch Lavoy Finicum, Ruby Ridge or Waco (2) and not be scared. We’ve become a nation of people trying to keep our heads down. With the upcoming rally in North Texas on June 4th, security is a major concern because no one really knows what the BLM is going to do. These people make up the rules as they go along, and will shoot you on the side of the road! Scared! Yeah, good title.

What We Burn In Our Crazy Mind goes back to my theory that the government us useless.  I can’t name one time in my life that I’ve seen the government successfully carry out anything. And SECRETS? Clinton couldn’t carry out a date with the secret service on the lookout for the wife!

Every now and then one takes inventory. With a writer that involves getting up one morning and believing that they’ve never produced anything in their life worth a flip. Stripes was such an inventory. John Lennon had his moment right before he wrote “Nowhere Man.” After that dark moment you really should chart a course of action, hopefully one that works. Consequently, here you are reading this article. In the words of Billy Joe Shaver, “I sold some songs in Memphis, sold one in LA too. I’ve sold some songs in Austin, sold songs in Austin too. Unless I miss my guess folk, Ima sell this song to you.”

As soon as I pulled my head out of my little pity party my sense of humor returned, and I picked the funniest bunch of screw ups I could find to break out; The Federal Reserve. I’d actually just read a very informative article on this, but it was too wordy for Texas so I just boiled it down to My Business Plan. I had to come up with a good picture so I picked a pimp. I used a white pimp so the libtards couldn’t call me a racist.

The week wound up with I Don’t See No Trump Train. I was rather amused by Ted Cruz choosing a running mate the day after picking himself up off the mat. I’ll never understand politics. Donald Trump is putting the wood to the establishment and he’s establishment! The election is gonna be “Yuge!”

Joseph Did You Know

Joseph Smith

Joseph did you know we’s all gonna ride the train? Sometimes when an idea pops up it takes on a life of its own. So it was with the founder of the Mormon faith on that hill long ago. Joseph Smith could not possibly have known how far his ideas would go when he concocted his story of the angel. The idea of golden tablets, Egyptian texts, magic glasses, all blend a story that is, frankly, extraordinary. This article is going to be a mixture of theology, psychology, and just a little common sense, but with a large dose of understanding. You must understand that most people are followers. A few lead. Humanity has to be this way if anything is going to get done. In religion your faith is divinely inspired, and everybody else is evil. Everyone has “the truth.”

“Pilate said to Him, ‘What is truth?” For humans, truth is whatever you perceive it to be right up until that final breath when you suddenly realize you were wrong. God is truth. God is truth because He is the creator, and if he says, “Be,” then it IS. Man can’t do that, but man has a way of saying “truths” over and over, and after a while it becomes man’s truth. . . right up ‘till that final breath.

Joseph Smith had these truths. Now, like Juan says, “I ain’t even gonna lie to you,” there weren’t any tablets in the woods. Swat them bees. Now, when you say that to Mormons they go spastic. I’ve seen them retreat, claiming the tablets were brass, may even have been copper, and the sheets were paper thin. There was no gold in Palmyra, New York except in the banks in somebody else’s name, but there was treasure in the mind of a small boy, and maybe, just maybe, there was an incredible occurrence on that hill. Inspiration is organic. God doesn’t come down and seize the hand of the writer of religious material. He filters it through the human psyche. When I wrote “Sharon” there were some people who claimed that I was inspired. Nope. Just made it up. That’s what a writer does. But if my words light a fire in someone’s mind, who’s to say that’s not a form of inspiration.

Mormons holding onto the golden tablets are like Catholics holding onto the Shroud of Turin. Hey, I was one of those. They ran that bathrobe through radio carbon and it came back bananas. I read all the theories, came up with one myself, sorry, no shroud! People constantly grasp for the tangible to prove the intangible. Jesus told us that no sign would be given. Don’t base your faith on parlor tricks. Verily, Verily, I say unto thee, if thou art perplexed thou understandith not the trick, and it’s all tricks, folks. I followed behind a Catholic “mystic” like a puppy, and she wasn’t anything more than a Tarot Card reader in short shorts. Never said I was a prophet, people.

Have you ever written a book? I have, let me tell you about it. It starts with a single page, and then, as the story develops, it evolves, and actually writes itself. A good story teller can weave a spell. Joseph Smith was such a story teller. It doesn’t matter if he made it up, stole it from some Presbyterian minister, or just found it in a jug of moonshine, the fact remains that he did not transcribe anything from any golden tablets, but he did start something that he, himself had no control over.

Does that nullify the Church of Latter Day Saints? Certainly not. Religion comes in two parts. The religion, and the culture that it generates. When a religion begins it is simple enough, but if it lasts it becomes a “theology.” Theology is refined by “theologians.”  Once these guys get involved you’re just screwed. The inspiration, and vision of the founder has long since dissipated, and it must be “revived” or explained, or, God forbid, canonized. That’s where you get holy underwear, funny little hats on Jews, and weird people kissing snakes in Arkansas. Each religion judges truths by what they perceive to be true, i.e. the Mormons can’t have a real temple because only the Jews than have one. Who said? I have seen the Temple in Salt Lake City, and it looked too holy for me!

So, how do you judge a religion? By the culture that proceeds from it, that’s how. Look at Islam, the “religion of peace.” Yeah, yeah, yeah, I heard all about Mountain Meadows, but I also heard about the Mormons getting burned out time and time again, finally fleeing to a salty lake in the desert. They didn’t try to take anything from America, they divorced America! Then, they built a culture that frankly works, magic underwear and all! It was all a lot of fun to burn them out in New York, Illinois and Missouri, but when the attackers of the LDS Church came barreling over the Wasatch Mountains and “John Wayne” was waiting on the other side it was a whole different critter. Nothing like a good ol’ country butt stomping to make you more tolerant of other cultures, huh?  I learned a lesson from C. J. Grisham. When you strap on an Ar-15, and stand up, the fat boys all fall down and pray. There’s a truth for you!

I’ve seen all the writing on how ex-Mormons “expose” the church, but the fact of the matter is, they couldn’t make it, while millions of others did. Does that make Mormonism true? Nah, no truer than any other man-made religion. God made man, man made religion. I hear all the stuff about how bad Mormonism is, but some people need patterns in their lives. Have you ever seen a bunch of kids playing with Yugioh Cards? I once made a video showing three little boys playing them, all from different cultures, but the rules of the game transcended the ethnic differences. Religion is like that. That is that “God Hole” I talk about. Man seeks organization, conformity, and answers. All religions put forth theories that seem ridiculous to the outsider. Know them by their fruits. If Mormonism doesn’t work for you then leave. Become a Hari Krishna or something, or make up your own. Recently, on a trip from Salt Lake City to Brigham City I observed the industry all along the I-15 for sixty miles or so. Industry built by a people who came here with nothing but a Book of Mormon and one crazy old man who was tired of getting burned out every time he prayed.

There is no way Joseph Smith knew what would become of his Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints. I don’t know if he ever discussed the Great Salt Lake during his life, but the movement he began evolved into that industry I observed along the fifteen that afternoon. That’s no accident! That is a culture that works for most of its members. I’ve heard that LDS people aree not Christian, or follow “another Jesus.” You wanna see anti-Christ? Look at Islam. When ISIS comes they’ll come for all of us. Those temples in Utah will look a lot better then. “And the woman fled into the wilderness, where she hath a place prepared of God that they should feed her there a thousand two hundred and two hundred and sixty days.” Joseph did you know we’s all gonna ride the train?

The Farm Boy, The Angel, and the Religion of Peace


We were entertained today, yet again, by the “Religion of Peace.” With thirty dead, and more than two hundred injured, ISIS claimed another victory for Jihad. Three of the injured were Mormon missionaries, and I don’t know the extent of their wounds, but my thoughts and prayers go out to their families. Now we have a new wrinkle in the cosmic fabric. The farm boy, the angel, and the religion of peace. Muslims can come into the United States, and raise hell in a café that serves bacon and eggs, but we can’t even use the term, “radical Islam.” Like my friend, Doc Greene would say, “On what planet does that make sense?”

Folks, it’s high time we get down and dirty with these people. I’ve said that if there are moderate Muslims then they’d better stand up and be counted, because if they don’t, the day will come when America will show them the door. A trap door with a sack over their heads. Oh, my bad, their ladies already have a sack over their head. Yet another cost cutting angle from Bill the Butcher.  In another life I was a devout Catholic. I used to love to go to confession if only to see the look on the priest’s face, and hear, “Gee, Bill, why’d you do that?” Naturally, I was anti-Mormon. We’d cite the passage by Paul about a “different Jesus,” but friends and neighbors the Muslims don’t represent a “different Jesus,” they hate Jesus. Oh, they give lip service, saying He was some kind of a “messenger,” and all that, but when they finally control an area they eradicate all forms of Christian worship. Every manner of vile statements about the Lord, but we can’t even draw a picture of their “prophet.”

Donald Trump’s idea of deporting and/or detaining all Muslims is entirely legal. We did that in WWII, we suspended flights right after the Twin Towers, and I don’t recall any flights coming over from Berlin during 1941 to about 1945. That’s called common sense.  And the great Imam in the White House claiming Islam contributed to the building of America is absolutely false. What have they built? I was recently in Salt Lake City at Temple Square, and I didn’t see one crescent moon anywhere. The religious garb being worn by the most devout consisted of a shirt and tie, and everybody was polite. No tongue wagging, no explosions, and plenty of help for me to see their Temple.

Now, I’m using the Mormons because they are the most organized group I know of. They carved out a home in the desert, solidified their religion, and eventually came into the mainstream of America, and ladies and gentlemen that was no easy task. They assimilated. They compromised. Ya’ll know what I think of organized religion, so I’m not going to be a hypocrite here, but if that religion improves someone’s life, gives them purpose, and doesn’t hurt anyone, what’s the beef? We all have that “God hole,” in our heads I talk about. Muslims want their God to put a whole in your head. Islam is alien to Western thought, and you wanna know why? Because Muslims aren’t Western thought kinda people, that’s why! They do not believe in “We The People,” they believe in the king of the camel jockeys, and folks, that’s as simple as I can put it.

I touched on the Utah-Texas connection last week, and I’m gonna drive home that nail right now. Utah! When ISIS came to Texas we killed them! We baited them, waited for them, and left them on a parking lot in Arlington drawing flies while we popped corks and laughed our cowboy butts off, and brothers and sisters, we got some flies in Texas. We have roaches so big that they turn on the light and watch you run! While Obama was wiping that politically correct tear out of his left eye we were hosing the blood off the parking lot, and planning yet another art contest. That’s how you answer Islam!

Mormons! You are a big prize. If these people can bring you down what chance do the Southern Baptists have? Other Christians! When they come, we all look alike, even you black folk out there. We may have come over on different boats, but we’re in the same boat now! After we dispense with these interlopers we can argue about which heaven we go to when we die, but until then they need to have a ‘talk with Jesus. Our job is to arrange the meeting! Like my buddy Scott Binsack would say, “Bada Bing, Bada BOOM!”

Arrested For Driving While Blind


Arrested for driving while blind. Friends and neighbors, brothers and sisters, that old ZZ Top line is about the only thing I haven’t done, and I’ve done it all. If there is anything I missed, it’s only because no one told me about it. If you want to dig dirt on me, you’d better bring a dump truck. I have been in country music for forty plus years, and I mean the real music business. I wasn’t just hanging around some bar, hoping my family might drop in and hear me play a guitar, I was a writer, and I wrote my way all the way to Nashville. Unless you’ve been living under a big yellow rock you’ve probably heard something I have written.

My mother once told me that if I ever hurt a decent girl she’d beat me to death with an iron skillet, so for the first four marriages (yeah, I said four) I married sluts. Number five was a thirty year ordeal, where I kept trying to leave, and she kept following. We finally divorced, but she wouldn’t let me leave, so here I am. As time and tears went by I began to settle down. There were two major factors contributing to this: One, I got too damn old, and two, I got tired of making bail. Somehow I came through all of this with my health, which is a miracle, because I quit drinking when they invented the funnel. Today I will still take a little Jim Beam, but nowhere near my glory days. I’m partial to a martini.

So where am I going with all of this? It’s simple actually. I see people all the time living in the past. They had a bad childhood. Let me tell you about a bad childhood. I am certified white trash. The first time I saw a fruit display on a formal table I tried to eat the wax apple. I hear someone on Doctor Phil going on and on about an abusive father, but let me school you, my dad was a roofer in Texas for thirty years, and being a roofer in Texas is about as bad a job as you can get, if you don’t count being a slave. My dad wouldn’t whip us, he’d knock us through the wall. Good news was that we were quick, and he only had to knock us through one wall for us kids to catch on. We were so poor we thought the people on welfare had government jobs because they had a check!

Human beings become better through ordeal. Steel becomes stronger through tempering. What doesn’t kill you, makes you stronger. Texas has never been easy. This is hard country out here. Our wages are low, and our hours are long, but we know the deal. You really have to believe in God, because if you don’t then none of this makes any sense. I couldn’t understand a word of the Bible until I was thirty-five years old. We had that old King James Version, and with all the “Thees” and “Thous” I just couldn’t connect the dots. Life connected the dots for me. I began to realize that if you cast your bread upon the water you’d get back a sandwich.

Writers are a special lot. For me, writing is therapy. As the words form on the page I vocalize, and when I vocalize, I begin to see the logic, and understand not only other people, but my own situation. I don’t believe in all this psychiatry stuff, and theories, or drugs, or mind control. I believe that most thinking people, over fifty years, can figure out what hurts, and what doesn’t hurt. You begin to see that there is room in the world for other ideas, and just because you don’t agree with them, they are just ideas. When I hear a liberal expounding some whacky “Bernie Sanders” plan, I know it won’t work, but rather than go tit for tat I understand that it’s all fine because good Lord willing and the creek don’t rise, they’ll have the same fifty years that I had to figure it all out. It’s all so simple. This will put a meal on the table, and that won’t.

I do understand the Bible now, but there’s a lot of “fluff” in it. The truths that Jesus spoke of were down to earth facts. Don’t judge. I never judge! When someone does something that I think is bad, I’ll just remember back when I did exactly the same thing, and be glad the statute of limitations has run out. We have all fallen short of the glory, and I fell short the day the doctor said, “Hey,” and I said, “Huh?”

It all boils down to this: You get what you expect. If you dwell in the past you will always be there. If you set goals, no matter how remote, you may not get there, but you’ll be on the way, and the journey is half the joy. We all make mistakes. What seemed so serious back then, will just be funny as you recount it to a friend at a local pub. The sad part of life is if you live long enough to figure it out then you’ll come to the same conclusions that I did after you are old, and young people have it all “figured out,” and will not listen as they begin their journey toward “the truth.”

If you want to dig dirt on me, you’d better bring a dump truck, because I’ve done it all, and if there’s anything I missed it’s only because no one told me about it, and I’m man enough to admit it! I’ve found one person who totally understands me. She sleeps with me, eats with me, agrees with everything I say, and cries when I’m away. In the spirit of the recent Supreme Court ruling on marriage I have decided to marry my dog.

There’s a Mad Man Down in Waco

David Koresh

Once, not long ago, there was a mad man down in Waco. Over many articles my readers have become used to my views on life, religion, and my struggle to understand those views. I didn’t arrive at these without some consideration, but one event seems pivotal to my evolution into a realist. I’m not going to call myself a secular humanist because my friend, Mikee Bee has pointed out to me that the term is more anti-Christian, and that is not my intent, so I’m inventing a new term. I’m hereby initiating the faith of “Wilburism.” There! That makes me my own Pope, so I make all the rules and speak ex catherdra!

I wasn’t going to touch the events in Oregon last night. I have firm views on what’s going on in Burns, but remember that I’m Tex-Centric, and that provides a bias to my reasoning on things like that. I listened to the live feed last night, and was amazed at the number of prayers said, but more amazed as the situation went from lost to found. No angel came down and chased the FBI off, but something did change the hearts and minds of all involved, and the situation went from “lock and load” to rest until tomorrow. Now, this article is going to be long and deep so bear with me. I have a decided point, so those with ears, let them hear.

Man is driven by right, and wrong, legal, and illegal. If you go looking for justice you’ll go crazy. Some turn to philosophy, and some to the Bible. The Bible is a compilation of writings, and books over a period of time spanning from two thousand to three thousand years ago, depending on how you date the original documents, of which there are no longer any original documents. Those are called “autographs,” and it’s very hard to get sheep skin and paper made from reeds to hold up that long. You have the Torah, the five books of Moses, and frankly that’s the most solid documentation I’ve found. The Jews have a number system to verify the accuracy of the Torah, and Jews don’t deviate much, so I’ll go with their system. These books all seem pretty straight forward. Rules to live by, some kind of explanation of who we are and where we came from, and a little outright history of a people trying to carve out their existence in a dry and thirsty land. Then there’s some poetry, a few old guys fussing about the good old days, and a few prophets trying to make sense of it all.

Spring forward about four hundred years and we have the “New” Testament. Now for Christians this collection is a clarification of the Old Testament, for fundamental Christians this replaces the Old Testament. Now, never mind that Yeshua (that’s right, that was his name) was a practicing Jew, up to observing his last Passover a few hours before his death. Rabbi Yeshua even said he didn’t come to change anything. He believed in the Torah down to the last little dot on the scroll. What he didn’t believe in was huge financial empires disguising themselves as religion and selling salvation by the shilling. His message was very simple. What you sow you shall surely reap!

Yeshua never wrote a grocery list, but that’s ok because he had a whole flock of people following after him that we’re more than happy to take on that job. And if he didn’t say it, no problem, they would just put the words in his mouth. Religious scholars pretty much agree that the story of the stoning of the sinful woman probably never happened, but the statement, “He who among you is without sin cast the first stone,” was something that sounds so “Christ like” he SHOULD’VE said it! And the last verses of the book of Mark are such an obvious addition it’s laughable, but that doesn’t stop hillbillies in the back woods reaches of the United States from kissing rattlesnakes!  They pray to God that the snakes don’t kiss back.

There are four gospels. Actually, there were many more, but all the others didn’t get enough votes at the Council of Nicaea and got pushed out. There is Matthew, Mark, Luke, and then some hippy called John. None of these were written by any if the Apostles, but rather by understudies of understudies a couple of centuries later. And since the copies of the copies of the copies were all made by semi-illiterate scribes with agendas we don’t know WHAT they really said!  It is interesting to note that if you look in most Bibles, they say, “The Gospel According to Mark, etc.” You see, in the first century all believers thought Jesus would be back the day after tomorrow so they didn’t bother to write anything down. Couple hundred years later even the slowest of them began to wise up and scurried around trying to assemble the “Gospel.”

The original effort to clarify what Yeshua really meant was a guy named Paul. Now Paul never met him, but he said he saw him on a lonely road, got slapped blind and saw the light. After that, anything that Yeahua really said that was a bit too Jewish for the Greeks and Romans he just fixed it and everyone called it “Pauline.” We all live in a yellow submarine. If you read between the lines of Paul’s letters you’ll see statements like, “See how large I make my letters,” and “If they could have, they would have pulled their own eyes out and given them to me.” Paul was not completely healed on Straight Street, he never lost the spots before his eyes, and in that moment he knelt before the sword, the spots told him that he had seen something! Hence we have hundreds, if not thousands of different Christian sects, all dancing to a different drummer that only they can hear. And, let’s not forget our friends the Mormons, who gave up on the entire proposition and just wrote their own!  I’m not going to get in a screaming debate with these people, but let me just ask, do you honestly believe that an angel appeared to some kid in the woods and gave him ancient tablets?  As a 21st century, thinking man or woman, with toilette paper and an iPad, do you REALLY believe that?  If you do, I will take checks or money orders for that bridge I have on sale. Nuff said.

And we have Islam. Put the fatwas down, I’m not making this an attack on Islam but it’s the same deal. Now, I’m not going to run Mohammed down much because that would take an entire article, but think about it. A cave, an angel, a book, or recitations, ever how you buy it. He was probably an ok guy when he was selling rugs, and whipping camels across the desert, and he certainly had a good gig, but there seems to be a pattern here, ok? Angels get around a LOT! If I ever see an angel I’m gonna ask him, “If you stand before God, don’t give me any book, they’re just misunderstand it anyway, just let the cards fall where they will.” This is because what happened to Mohammed is what happened to Yeshua, what happened to Moses and good ol’ Joseph Smith. You start out with God, give it a couple hundred years, a little theology, and you get God Damn!  One thing, no one can write a book of rules that will apply universally for ever and ever. Times and conditions change, but some people will hold on to the old, kiss them snakes, stone teenage girls, and wear funny underwear. If the “draws” fit, wear ‘em.

I can’t even get into the Hindu faith because it’s just downright silly. The only contribution they ever made from that culture was the Karma Sutra. I have a copy of that. I don’t buy into a single syllable of that faith except for the girls in silk belly dancing outfits, which give me a warm fuzzy, and I guess in a way that is a bit spiritual.

The Creator, if there is a Creator, and I think there probably is, has simply got to be smarter than all that. He, she or it does not go by our rules and I’ll assure you that the originator of everything from atoms to galaxies is so far beyond us that we will never understand it no matter how hard we try. In my book, Sharon, she tells the preacher that theology is man’s feeble attempt to explain the unexplainable. When man runs up against this wall he works around it by accepting dogma. He feels comfortable being boxed in, so long as the box is small, and he doesn’t have to think. And people kill for this. People die for this. People burn people, cut their heads off, bury them up to their necks and stone them to death because God had a friend of a friend who told them to do it. Do I think man has a soul? Yes!  If that soul survives death I don’t know, haven’t been there. One part of me hopes that there is something after the last heartbeat, but that nasty old common sense tells me that five minutes after I die I will probably know just about as much as I did five minutes before I was conceived. I don’t believe men, but I’m not stupid enough to deny Christ.

Why do I think like this? Because God doesn’t own me a thing. When that doctor slapped my butt, and I drew my first breath that was more than I’d earned, and every breath after that was a bonus, so if there is darkness in the great beyond, God hasn’t welched one little bit. Thank you God! That’s a depressing thought, isn’t it?  Not really. Not if you realize that you’ve already been there, done that. And between been there, done that, and do that again, do unto others as you would have them do unto you. Get along with each other. A tribe of MONKEYS can do that. In one handful of dirt in Waco I completely realized the full extent of man’s inhumanity to man.

Now, what does all this have to do with last night? There are three kinds of people in this world, spiritualists, and realists, and a combination thereof. Spiritualists gaze toward the skies and hope for the best. Realists stare at the ground and hope for the rest. Activists see the spiritual, reach to the ground, and hurl the dust into the faces of their oppressors. I am such an activist. I listened intently last night as the YouTube feed broadcast the event in Oregon. It was almost like the Orson Wells “War of the Worlds” radio broadcast. After three hours I was waiting for a commercial. There were four against many, a protagonist, Michelle, and the antagonist, some guy on a bull horn screaming at the people in the building, who were running around like chickens with their heads cut off dropping “F” bombs like they were working for Richard Pryor. Hey, folks, that’s the truth, I’m sorry, ok?

Notwithstanding the gravity of the situation, and most certainly not taking away from the patriotism of LaVoy Finicum, I’d just like to say that we in Texas have “been there, done that.” I went to Waco a few years ago, out on Highway 6, where there’s a vacant lot. It’s not impressive. Kinda sneaks up on you, and you’d be surprised how close it really is to town. I was there setting up the sale of some adjacent land for a group of people, and as part of my trip I wanted to see this particular track of land. If you bend down, and scratch deep enough, even to this day, there are little black flecks mixed in with the caliche. The ashes of Mount Carmel. In the blink of an eye I knew that actions, such as Burns, Oregon will not change anything except the bank accounts of a few movie producers.

Not one supporter showed up in Burns last night to even spit on the FBI. There were up to seventy thousand listeners to the live feed, but the four in the Reserve were there alone. We in Texas know that if we are going to change this we will have to be organized. The FBI, counts on the reluctance of “patriots.” If only two hundred ranchers had showed up last night with deer rifles that situation would have turned around, and the FED would have adjourned for a donut, and brothers and sisters, that’s a fact!

No one came to Mount Carmel either. There weren’t any YouTube feeds back then. The mad man down in Waco, and his little band hung bed sheets out of the windows trying to deliver messages to the media, who had no intention of delivering them to the people, just like last night, and that is a point of interest, because I don’t recall any Main stream Media in Burns last night either. They weren’t even there! This is the part where the realist reaches for the ground, and when I stared at the ground that day, long ago, I saw ashes! And neighbors, until we organize, and get out from behind our keyboards, the FBI and its fellows will bid the ashes multiply!

In conclusion, pie in the sky rhetoric and starry eyed ideals will not win this fight. It’s going to take men and women willing to throw the ashes into the eyes of the oppressors. Ask yourself, what if only one percent of those listening on YouTube last night had walked up to the FBI and just said, “NO?” They can’t shoot us all. Lots of answers in a hand full of ashes.

That Was The Week That Was Was The Week That Was

From reflections to events, but that’s the way my week usually goes. Unlike other writers, I don’t just jump on the morning news, even in a big event, I let the story “season,” because first thoughts are never the correct thoughts. What happened is never as important as why it happened, because if we don’t reflect, and learn, then we’ll just keep doing the same thing over and over again, and, as you probably know, that’s the definition of insanity.
I began the week with an idea of the eventual breakup of the American Dream, i.e. set up a government to steal everything, and try to cram it into the Beltway. In “God Bless Americans,” I said, “As we all know, the American government has been overreaching for years, and part of this is because of the artificial definitions of who’s who, and what’s what. Most of the time Federal mandates, and decisions are mandatory, and arbitrary. States make laws, but why? All Uncle Sam has to do is make His law, and the state legislature becomes a complete waste of time. K. C. Massey can carry a gun under Texas law, Sammy says, “No,” K. C. goes to jail. Someone can fire up a joint in Malibu, DEA doesn’t like it, guy gets arrested and has a criminal record. Fundamentalist Mormon wants to marry twin sisters and the Fed can’t seem to find the ink to put one more square on a tax form. See where this is going, folks?”
From there I let old Brother Greed get ahold of me and penned, If I Had Won The Powerball. I ain’t even gonna lie to you. I had that money spent, and I listed all my dreams for the public to see. “If I had won the Powerball. I sat up last night waiting for the Powerball drawing. I didn’t get a single number. You’d think there would be a prize for that! Anyway, like practically every other fool who invested in castles in the air, and purchased a Powerball ticket, I had big plans. I’d like to list them here. They ranged from the sublime to the sub-slime, but here goes.” Well, as you probably figured out, I didn’t win, and had to rush down to pay the light bill the next day.
Politics raised its ugly head next, ugly being the key word. Hey, for the record, I understand why Bill cheated on Hillary, ok. I kept having images of Arkansas politicians, ugly women, and cornbread swirling around in my head and out popped, Dead As Cornbread. “From White Water to Benghazi, Hillary has danced on a razor’s edge for years. Other people in the public eye can commit just a smidgen of what she’s pulled and they’re thrown out of the Army, charged with a crime, end up with public ridicule, and Alex Jones accuses them of leading the New World Order. Hillary could pee on the White House steps and the Liberal Left would say she had found a new way to fix global warming. Am I the only one who thinks there is something wrong with this picture?”
Where Everybody Knows Your Name was next. I have no idea where this idea sprang from, but I suspect it was a bar tab. “Places like this never last, and that’ sad. Just a place where seasoned men come to relax and compare lives. I gain more there than any other place I go. I listen more than I talk, and I learn. These guys view things like ISIS with a very jaundiced eye. And everybody knows your name. I like that.”
That night I listened to my friend, Scott Binsack, reflect on his belief in an Eternal Creator, and wrote, In God We Trust. “God got expelled from school, His commandments from the courthouse square, and from the halls of Congress, and we wonder what ever happened to the country. God is a nice guy. You don’t have to throw him out, just ask Him to leave, and he’ll oblige. And, when He does leave what do you have left? Bruce Gender, Hillary, Obama, and Imam whoever! Children don’t say prayers, or the Pledge of Allegiance in school anymore. They learn how to do drugs, and different sexual preferences, depending on the gender, or cross-gender of the teacher. Welcome to a Godless world!”
I’m very TexCentric, and it showed in Olga vs The American Dream. “This was a big heads up to the third world. While Washington wasn’t invaded, America, for once, had to stand down. We, of course, put the spin on it. We were like Putin recently said. We were like playing chess with a pigeon. We knocked over all the pieces, pooped on the board, and then stomped around like we won. Still, we had the dream. Or rather, Martin Luther King had a dream. Our dream had caught the last train for the coast.”
Seems I was drawn to the past a lot this week. During lunch with some old friends, we got to talking about our high school days, and a few things came to mind. In The Last Picture Show I wrote about things that would make kids in New York, or California would cringe at. “I didn’t have a pickup. I had a ’54 Chevy. The good thing about it was you could get four friends in the trunk when you went to the show. That meant for you, and the girl, it cost about seventy cents to get in. That’s right, one girl, five boys. Hey, we weren’t Muslims, she was safe. Also, if you were lucky she would be an Army brat and have five dollars or so in her purse, which would turn into buttered popcorn for everybody. The way you convinced her to give up the money was a gift, usually flowers, which meant a swing through the graveyard on the way to pick her up. They didn’t show that in the Last Picture Show either!”
By the week’s end I was blowing through pretty good. Still reflecting on Scott’s broadcast, I did a commentary on my first book, Sharon. “The Muslim community has got to come to the realization that the volatile section of Radical Islam is so dangerous to the rest of the world that they, the “good” Muslims need to handle it, or we, the rest of humanity will have to handle it for them.”
I was flying so high that I began to generate “doubles,” by this time. When I get an idea I just write it, no waiting for later. After listening to a Trump speech I resurrected Little Red Riding Republican with a nice 2016 update. “Well, that’s where Little Red Riding Republican comes in. She had been raised in the wisdom handed down from generation to generation. She had eyes of blue, and flaxen hair that fell down around her shoulders. She would take long walks in the country, and one day, during one of these walks she became lost and a figure appeared out of thin air. It was a black knight!”
And, last, but certainly not least, Black Lives Don’t Matter! Actually, I’ve toyed with this title for months, but I just couldn’t take the edge off enough. When someone came back with ALL Lives Matter, I thought to myself, “Heck, why don’t we just join hands and sing, “We Shall Overcome?” Finally, I came up with a perfect second line. For the record, Black Lives Matter is the epitome of Liberal Stupidity. You simply have to have the guts to put it out there. Everybody knows movements like this are stupid, and the originators laugh all the way to the bank. Unfortunately for them I write for the Tea Party, not the Pot Party! That’s why they call me Bill the Butcher! “Black lives don’t matter! My life matters! In the words of Billy Joe Shaver, “When you have no way to go you’d better know I’m gonna get my share of mine.” Yeah, yeah, yeah, I’m a racist. More than that, I’m a Texan. Texas wasn’t built on a food stamp. America has evolved into a welfare state. In Texas we have a thing called a “51% sign.” Now, it’s supposed to refer to the amount of food vs alcohol that forbids the carrying of a gun within an establishment. In America it is the percentage of citizens working every day, as opposed to those lining up at the welfare office for their daily bread.”
Sunday is a day of rest. Well, maybe for some, but for me it’s a day of reflection. They don’t rest, so I don’t rest. I have been called, A Simple Ol’ Boy From Austin, and that’s good, because when the libtards pounce on me I can always say, “Hey! I told you I was stupid from the start.” Have a blessed week, and keep looking for America. It’s somewhere out there.

Simple Ol’ Boy From Austin


My friend, Scott Binsack touched on a subject last night during his nightly Facebook live feed that was deeply personal for him. Several years ago he had a near death experience that changed his life, and from which he drew inspiration that has redirected his understanding of what that life is supposed to be. During his show I was having an ongoing discussion via PM with my other friend, Michael Brown who also has run a show on BlogTalk Radio, and Michael took exception to what Scott was trying to articulate. Now, first off, that’s just Michael. I have my style, and he has his, and that is that.
Normally, Scott is very forceful, very direct, and very strong. This subject simply touched him somewhere that he doesn’t expose often. That, combined with his reaching for an explanation made him seem a little out of his element, which is not putting him down at all. I, myself, recently did some reflection on if I should appear on Tommy’s Garage, knowing that my forte is writing, and not wanting to appear as a quacking duck to several million people, but it just so happens that I’ve written a book on this very subject, Sharon, and I’m going to expound the subject Scott was alluding to for you here.
Verily, verily, I say unto Thee, if thou art mystified, thou doesn’t understand the trick. Once upon a time I knew a woman. Back then I was a “Hail Mary” Catholic, and she was a “mystic.” We’d meet at Saint Joseph’s in Killeen, pray the Rosary together, and she’d launch into a rambling dialog about her understanding of the faith. I was spell bound. What I didn’t know was that God was setting the stage to draw me into a deeper understanding of who He really was.
Not long after meeting “Susan” I began to write the book I mentioned. At first it was to be a great epic telling the world about her. That’s not the way it turned out. As I typed the words the character who was originally patterned after Susan, began to take on a life of her own, and she began to speak to me from the pages of the book. I would get up each morning, throw open the French Doors in my bedroom and begin to write. Sometimes a chapter, sometimes a paragraph, sometimes only one line, but there was no “filler” in this book. Everything had weight, and a lot of it I didn’t understand.
The most amazing thing was “Sharon” contradicted almost everything “Susan” had told me. In later years I’ve had priests and theologians more knowledgeable than I tell me that there are seven signs embedded in the book, but for the life of me I can’t find them. The plot of the book is simple, actually. A young, revivalist Baptist Preacher comes upon a nineteen year old girl, Sharon, during the last revival of the season. She shows up riding a little yellow motor scooter, and sits in the second row of the tent. After the first meeting she invites him to a church garden for a series of discourses, in which she introduces him to a vastly different understanding of spirituality than he was talking about on the stage. Her message is selflessness, and the universal omnipotence of God.
By then end of the week’s revival the preacher is profoundly affected by this girl, and his feet on a far different path than when he first arrived. I won’t reveal the entire plot to you, but there are scenes that still rock me to this day. One such scene involves Sharon asking a series of teens, meeting with her in the little garden what love was to them. There is one teen girl who pushes back, and refuses to answer. Sharon skips her, understanding that there is some turmoil within her that makes her so withdrawn. When the little meeting concludes, and the kids are leaving, the girl turns, looks at Sharon and the preacher, and says, “What is love? Love is when you pray the Rosary every day to die instead of your sister, because she has cancer!”
I don’t believe I was “inspired” when I wrote this book. I most certainly didn’t find any golden tablets, and not one single angel appeared to me in any cave. What I found was the lies, manipulation and hypocrisy of organized religion. I became a fallen away Catholic. I believe, in his own way, Scott met Sharon during his three minute near death experience. You have to read the book to find what she is to you. I am going to give you my understanding.
We have a Muslim problem. This is a problem with an organized “religion” if you can even call it that, not a problem with God. Now, this next part is going to be harsh, but you’ll feel better in the morning. Organized religion is just an effort to control the masses. Don’t look for God there because He is not there. All that is there is man. 666, Man, Man, Man! Go to Google and check out numerology. You’ll feel better in the morning. This was the message of Jesus, and the message of Sharon. Mohammed did not see an angel in a cave, and Joseph Smith did not find any golden tablets in the woods. There is a difference between “Prophet” and “profit.” What these two guys found was a clever way to con people out of their gold. And I’m sorry to say that they are just two of a host of con men who have used the same game plan over, and over, and over again.
One billion believers simply cannot all be evil. Most just practice the faith they have been taught since birth, believing people they deem wiser than themselves. Most are just normal people. The loud, the obnoxious, the hateful get on CNN. The Main Stream Media doesn’t make any money, or ratings showing Muslims quietly praying, or Baptists having a pot luck dinner. They make their bones with bombs, bodies and blood.
The Muslim community has got to come to the realization that the volatile section of Radical Islam is so dangerous to the rest of the world that they, the “good” Muslims need to handle it, or we, the rest of humanity will have to handle it for them. Donald Trump’s idea of stemming Muslim immigration is a good one for one reason. It forces the hand of Muslims everywhere to address their problems. God gathers, Satan scatters. Contrary to what ISIS believes, Islam, and Sharia Law will not dominate the world. These are the results of a diseased mind, but all Muslims are not diseased. They just want to work, live and pray, and like everyone else, hope in their final hour they are right!
In conclusion I will quote the book one more time. After the first meeting in the tent, Sharon gets on her little scooter, starts to drive away. The preacher, knowing nothing else to say asks her, “Have you found Jesus?” She looks at him, smacks her gum and replies, “I didn’t know He was lost.” She putters away in the mists.

Simple Ol’ Boy From Austin

The Willow Switch and the Chocolate Factory

Down Laurel Street from my grandmother’s house in Shreveport was a chocolate factory. There was this huge window in the front, giving full view of the machines inside that twirled and pumped the candy out. When I was five years old my dad would walk me past it on the way to Cotton’s grocery, but we’d never stop and just look. All I’d get was a passing glance as we continued to the store. I could actually smell the candy seeping through the door.
Now you have to understand 1950’s Louisiana. Kids and dogs ran free. Yeah, I said dogs, too. In fact, when the leash law took effect there was almost a rebellion. Now, when I look back, and remember all the dogs running around I wonder what was in our minds? Anyway, it was a kinder, gentler society. By the time I was seven, my mother taught me how to get on a trolley, go downtown to the Strand Theater, watch a movie, and find my way home. I also knew how to cross the street at the light, not talk to strangers, and not talk at all when grownups were speaking.
Free range did not apply to five year olds! I was expected to stay on my block. . . period! My grandmother watched me, and if I couldn’t hear MaMaw’s voice I’d gone out of my range. Still, there was the chocolate factory. Sin begins by coveting, and I coveted them candy bars. They loomed before me. Then one day, while walking around my block I conceived a plan. I made a couple of trips around the block to check things out. Then I stood at the corner for the longest time. The forbidden fruit was across that street, and just to the left about a hundred yards or so. I took a deep breath, and stepped off into eternity.
When I’d crossed the street and lived I became bolder. I felt liberty surge through my blood. The sights and sounds invigorated me. My stubby little legs picked up more and more speed, and before I knew it the chocolate factory was in sight. I ran to the window. There it was! I didn’t understand how the candy was made, just that I was. All the machinery was bright steel, with steam coming out of one end. The candy would come out of one end and another machine would wrap it. Then the pieces would go into a box. I slavered at the mouth as I watched so much wealth parading before my young eyes. There was not a prayer of my getting a piece, which is astounding that the people inside could see my nose up against the glass and not slip me a single piece. I know they saw me.
I never heard the shot that got me. All I remember was the fire on my legs. Now, back in the day the kids wore shorts. We didn’t tend to wear shoes, in fact, in summer it was a rite of passage to walk the streets that were covered with oil, and get your feet tough. My feet were tough, but MaMaw wasn’t hitting my feet, she was cutting them legs with a willow switch! Let me tell you, if your sin was drinking water before that switch hit, you’d never drink water again. Switched me all the way home, and then took me to church that Sunday where a Baptist preacher told me I was “A goin’ to HAYELLL!” I was scared of Jesus until I was thirty years old. Bad chocolate factory!

Simple Ol’ Boy From Austin

Whatever Happened to Mary?

Whatever happened to Mary? If you want to start an intense debate among Christians, just bring up Mary. Her position in the great cosmic story of salvation has been elevated, and minimized accordingly, depending upon which theologian is commenting at the time. As Catholics repeat the “Hail Mary,” Baptists pray that she’ll just go away. Much contemplation, and commentary centers on this little girl.
So who is Mary? According to the Bible, she was the mother of Jesus Christ. She received a visit from an angel, was informed that she would have a child, and that child would be the son of God. Mary was practical. She felt as if she had to educate the angel a bit, i.e. she wasn’t married, and she was still a virgin. Now, this is where the theologians get petty about things.
Theologians are like lawyers. The only time they twist the truth is when their mouths are open. Breaking down the Greek, they interpret the word, “virgin” as everything from absolutely as pure as a five year old Shirley Temple all the way up to someone who only had one husband and hasn’t had a child yet. I, personally think it meant Mary was a good little girl. She made it very clear to the angel, and he basically agreed with her on that point, but told her not to worry about it because God had her back.
Mary was probably around fourteen years old. Before you start throwing tomatoes at me please understand that in this era people lived to up around thirty, or thirty-five, so at fourteen or so, little Mary had most likely lived around half of her life. At any rate, she became with child, which freaked her fiancé completely out. He knew it wasn’t him, and he also knew that the result of such a thing could be stoning. He decides to put her away “privately,” as opposed to the strip to the rock yard. Joseph was a good old boy.
Nothing ever came easy for Mary. Nowadays, women get wheeled into an operating room, given pain killers, and smile for the camera holding the new addition to the family. Mary got about a seventy mile trip on a jack-ass, did her labor in a barn, and the king tried to kill the baby. And you think you’ve had it rough!
The Nativity scene we’ve all come to know is actually a composite of the Gospels, and little tradition thrown in. Was she really in a stable? There was no room at the inn, but consider; if Joseph was returning to his tribal home to register for taxes, wouldn’t you think he’d have had at least a cousin in town somewhere. I mean, it was Bethlehem, not Jerusalem. These people all knew each other. Staying in a stable was not the raging insult that we think. First off let’s look at timing. Although we celebrate Christmas on December 25th, the Bible says that shepherds were “abiding in the fields.” Now, I’m just a Simple Ol’ Body from Austin, but Shepherds don’t “abide” in the dead of winter, they abide closer to the equinox, say, Passover maybe? House full of relatives, lots of people in town, fourteen year old girl about to have a baby, do you think?
So, Mary has her baby, raises Him, and presents Him to the world at Cana. Joseph died early on so it was she who formed Jesus’ personality, it was she who gave him concept, it was she who knelt before the angel, and finally, before the cross. Whatever happened to Mary?

Simple Ol’ Boy From Austin