Friday, October 31, 2014

Vol. 186: I Woke Up Like This

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     Ladies and gentlemen, this installment will be the last Global Outrage of an Educated Man for some time. For I will be getting back to the writing of the novel that will afford my wife and I, a life away from the daily grind; getting up. going to work, coming back home, having dinner, going to sleep, getting up, going to work, coming back home, having dinner and going to get the idea, and so I would like to thank you for your time and patience; have a great Holiday season. Cheers.

     Confronted, bombarded, ambushed and deluged with the fear pandemic that has become the mass media's mantra; whether it be Ebola, ISIS, Immigration, the upcoming mid-term elections or the stock market, I find solace in the fact that the end is near. The witching hour is upon us and what better way to say goodbye to old menacing friends, then to see them disappear likes leaves off the trees awaiting the cold hands of winter to grab them by their throats and wave adios into the ether as they scream like befuddled Fox-News anchors at their incomprehensible grasp at reality.

     Speaking of mid-term elections, the political boogeymen will make you believe that you are either being taxed too much or too little. On their differences of taxation they agree; no matter how simple the answer, whether it be an income tax or a corporate tax, the code needs to be reformed; but that is about as attractive a platform as Google Glass is to the consumer. However, multinational corporations and their political benefactors; those they have purchased with the help of the Citizens United ruling by the Supreme Court, will make you believe that they can't create enough jobs because they have been burdened with an uncompromising tax rate. But according to a 2013 GAO paper, corporations on average pay a 12.6% tax rate. Seems to this educated man, that they are getting a much better deal than Joe the Plumber. So, where are all the leaky pipes? The CDC?

     Then there are the new faces of Feminism (the advocacy of women's rights on the grounds of political, social, and economic equality to men). The it word of the moment if you aren't counting Ebola or ISIS. Lena Dunham, the female millennial version of Woody Allen whose hit HBO show GIRLS has a tell-all memoir out (at the ripe age of 28) and according to fans and critics, should be telling us much more than what she does; then again, that's show business and you always want to leave them wanting. There is also the speech that Emma Watson made to the UN catapulting her into the role of spokeswoman for Feminism, passed from the baton that is the all encompassing machines of woman that are Beyonce', Taylor Swift and Jennifer Lawrence. All intelligent women and beautiful faces; now contrast that with Eleanor Roosevelt and once again the message remains true, sex sells.
The New Face of Cover Girl?

     The summer of movie blockbusters has come and gone, and what was left were disappointing ticket sales and plot lines; all of which left me scratching my head, where is this generations' Back to the Future? Raiders of the Lost Ark? Star Wars? Where is the PG movie that people could embrace and watch as it morphed into a cultural phenomenon? Have the millenials become so fragmented and their attention spans so disabled that they are unable to agree on anything? Or is it simply because my wife and I chose not to have children, only canines, is why I've missed them or have they simply passed me by? Just one of the smaller questions that ponder my brain. However, I am very much looking forward to Paul Thomas Anderson's film version of Thomas Pynchon's Inherent Vice.

     According to a new scientific study done, the Journal PLOS ONE reported that a failing sense of smell (olfactory dysfunction) in older people is a strong predictor of death within five years. The smell of death actually does exist or does it?

     Finally, there was the recent incident at Keene State; where the dangers of drunken white men ran rampant like the Walking Dead at a pumpkin festival turned Woodstock 99'. Now, imagine if those men had been black; the fire hoses would just now be turning off.

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Tuesday, October 7, 2014

Vol. 185: Sweet Dreams

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There is no G-d in heaven
There is no hell below
So says the great professor
of all there is to know

But I’ve had the invitation
that a sinner can’t refuse
It’s almost like salvation
It’s almost like the blues”       Leonard Cohen It’s Almost Like the Blues

     The black shadowy wispy smoky hand of panic and death of the current cable news 24 hour-7 day a week cycle of crisis that is Ebola has reached over the Atlantic Ocean and landed upon the hallowed ground of the United States; pestilence and famine continue to run rampant around the globe with no sign of slowing down like an annoying driver on their cell phone coming onto the freeway without regard for their merge lane. Although the bells are ringing, the horsemen are nowhere to be seen as of yet; but that does nothing to stop the cathedral of technology that brings forth new parishioners with each town hall meeting product announcement.  It is only a sign in a growing list that society is crumbling before our very eyes; for there is something terribly wrong when people will sleep and stand in line to spend $600 on the next shiny new smart phone, only to bend it while sitting upon it while it is placed inside their back pocket; but thank God, with Yoga pants there are no back pockets. The only line this so-called educated man is standing or sleeping in is the line where they are giving out $600. Can I get an Amen? 

     Meanwhile U.S. led air strikes of another propaganda created coalition of the willing have been sent into Syria to debilitate ISIS-ISIL over the public be-headings of two American journalists and forthcoming what looks to be a third American; it is the expansion of the War on Terror into a further mess of destabilization. Despite the many opinions of the expert pundits crowding talk shows and cable news editorials who try to fit their gigantic heads into each frame, one thing is guaranteed and that is, it is evidence in the fact that what could only be imagined from Tom Clancy or John Le Carre novels in the mid to late 80’s is taking place the world over; the impossible is here, we are allying ourselves with Iran and you can bet the farm Israel is keeping very close tabs upon all of this, don’t be fooled, don’t you worry; the Rothschilds are never gone, they've only been forgotten.
Have a Nice Day
     Then there is the more recent displays of dissent in Hong Kong, only poking the sleeping dragon of China as if in an opium den, until she can rest no more and like a Tolkien creation, rise from her slumber of slowing economic growth and wreak havoc upon the Geo-political and Geo-economics of the new global order. Apparent to all in the know, the old order is crumbling; the Age of Information is spreading like a virus.

     Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, The Smiley Face Killer may have struck again with the discovery of the body of a young man reported missing from Sartell, Minnesota found in Moorhead, Minnesota. He was a college student from NDSU, now considered by the local police to be the victim of a recent homicide; the only clues released were that one of his shoes and his cell phone are missing. In an alarming trend, young men, last seen at bars or college parties in the late hours of the night, disappear without a trace, poof, only to be found days, weeks or months later, with no explanations given, except the possibility of drowning. How these young men all find their way to a body of water is beyond me. This so-called educated man fervently believes it is the work of a Midwest serial killer; someone with the ability to work independently and who travels for their job; as a result, someone who happens to spend his weekends in college towns, praying on the drunk and disoriented, easy prey, easy targets, easy victims and I thought only fraternities were supposed to do that.

     In what may be further evidence of knowing that the game has been rigged, there were the incredibly low numbers of only 57.5% of eligible voters casting their ballots in the 2012 U.S. Presidential election; ladies and gentlemen, Vladimir Putin receives a higher percentage of voter turnout and the citizens of Russia already know the outcome of that race.  Hopefully, enough of the voting public will wake up in time to cast intelligent and informed decisions this November and in 2016 or will it even matter?     

"I'm looking through you."
     Finally, sifting through the wreckage that is the modern day, we as evolving human beings need to be aware of the destruction that our daily schedules and lifestyles have placed upon our bodies and embattled emotions. There is a need to embrace and utilize the occult knowledge of optics that is one’s Third Eye; the pineal gland. We need to be on the natural circadian rhythm as much as possible; it is vital that the 24 hour light and dark cycle that is nature be incorporated into our lives’ and in the process wrap both of our psychic and physical arms around the importance of melatonin. Despite what the commercials are trying to tell us, things will not be improved because of testosterone treatment and a new pharmaceutical is not going to give you what is already inherent and sleeping in each and every one of us. In order to wake up and solve the deadly problems that continually face us each and every day, we must get a good night’s rest. Sweet dreams my friends, sweet dreams and don't let the bed bugs bite.

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Wednesday, September 3, 2014

Vol. 184: The Numbers Don't Lie

       Spread the Outrage. Spread the Truth.      

      Ladies and gentlemen, the three headed hydra that is myself, Thelonius Ronscpiacy and Theona Donther are back reporting from the dirt and gravel front lines of the 21st Century with nothing lost upon our addled minds. According to us observers/radical mental activists much has happened since the publication of the last edition of the Global Outrage of an Educated Man. If you have been paying attention, then you would have noticed that there has been the upsurge in the terrorist organization known as ISIS, the ground swelling of disgust in a small Missouri town at the gross indecency done towards both the poor urban black community and the militarization of the police as a result of a 320lb 18 year old black man being shot and killed by a police officer after stealing cigars at a convenience store minutes earlier and his body being left on the street in the middle of the summer for four and half hours; that would never have happened in Beverly Hills.  

In Chicago, 82 people were shot in less than 84 hours over the long hot 4th of July weekend. But where do we go from here? Are there continued signs of revolution, reciprocation, representation and racism running amok in the name of chance? Are we going to be continually trampled down by the war of finance that places us ever so conveniently under the heels of the banksters? According to the left’s version of George Will, Dr. Michael Hudson states that the fact of the matter is, Finance is the new form of warfare – without the expense of a military overhead and an occupation against unwilling hosts. It is a competition in credit creation to buy foreign resources, real estate, public and privatized infrastructure, bonds and corporate stock ownership. Who needs an army when you can obtain the usual objective (monetary wealth and asset appropriation) simply by financial means?” 

Is the inevitable slow decay of the bought and sold American dream playing out in front of our very sleep deprived eyes? Is it all because of the hidden hands of power pulling the levers from behind the dark curtains of deception at the Federal Reserve, created and unchecked since 1913? According to the Federal Reserve’s own website, “The Fed is considered an independent central bank because its monetary policy decisions do not have to be approved by the President or anyone else in the executive or legislative branches of government, it does not receive funding appropriated by the Congress, and the terms of the members of the Board of Governors span multiple presidential and congressional terms.” If it looks like, sounds like and smells like greasy, stinky, unadulterated unchecked power, it probably is. Then again, you never considered Alan Greenspan a despot, maybe a Mole-Man but never an evil super villain; or maybe that’s the genius of it; sneaky bastards. 
"I'm harmless. I never saw it coming at all."

Ladies and gentlemen, as a result there are wars, rumors of wars and epidemics of disease, intolerance, ignorance and lemming-ship spreading across the interconnected globe at a pace faster than the decline of Tiger Woods’ once magnificent golf game. Sadly, there is no ice-bucket challenge to put an end to it as we wade knee deep into the murky waters of the new global age of paranoia ushered in by 9/11, we are endlessly bombarded with a never-ending slide down the rabbit hole to our own destruction. We now have an American journalist and British freelance journalist beheaded on camera by ISIS thugs, passenger jets shot down by “mistake” in war ravaged Ukraine and meanwhile Syria is just a stone’s throw away from ringing in the four horsemen. As a result there are rumors out of Israel that they are equipping commercial airliners with anti-missile systems. What terrorist wouldn’t want to hijack that weapon ready aircraft?? We would be remiss to neglect to mention the continued unrest in Gaza, where according to all reports by Salon’s Andrew O’Hehir, “almost 2 million people fenced into a slice of arid seacoast with roughly the same land area as the city of Detroit.” Sadly, the rate of violence and foreclosures probably isn’t too different from the Motor City. Maybe Quicken Loans could renovate Gaza the way it has tried to do with Detroit? Israel invading Gaza was as if the Harlem Globetrotters invaded the training camp of the Washington Generals; Israel 537- Gaza 14. Another stick in the eye according to O’Hehir is that, “American progressives are hypocrites for weeping over Gaza but ignoring the death toll in Iraq, Syria and Egypt.” Whatever the belief, there is one thing that is certain, and that is, it’s a “no-win” situation for all parties involved, because either party is right and partly to blame. Thanks a lot God. 

Continuing our tour down the rabbit hole, our daily travels along the front lines of the 21st Century have taken us into the richest and the poorest of neighborhoods. It comes as no surprise that often a major highway has bypassed the more affluent of communities to instead reside in the middle, next to or on top of the lower classes. It was during the massive undertaking of building the nation’s highways and interstates in the late 50’s and throughout the 60’s that the changes took place when white middle class Americans headed to the suburbs in droves faster than the onslaught at the opening of a new outlet mall. According to author Eric Avila, in his book The Folklore of the Freeway: Race and Revolt in the Modernist City, “If future anthropologists want to find the remains of people of color in a post apocalypse America, they will simply have to find the ruins of the nearest freeway.” This statement may oversimplify the situation, but the next time you drive around your fair city, take a good look as to where the major highways and interstates bisect and connect with communities of prosperity and decay; but be careful, you may have just driven into a recent riot.

There is nothing to fear, nothing to worry about; beat the drum, ring the refrain and let the markets solve all problems. The free-marketplace will bring us all peace and happiness forever and ever; blue-birds will sing on your shoulder. Because the Tobacco, Pharmaceutical and Energy companies have nothing but our best interests at heart; ask yourself, since when has McDonald’s ever hurt anyone? When has a clothing company put anything but their garment workers safety and wages first and foremost on their agenda? This almost demonic possession of neo-liberalism is the belief that states should tax and regulate less and the better off we will be; public services, slashed; public spending, diminished; businesses run rampant like a giant mutated monster through our cities and communities. So, if you are feeling depressed, anxious, or fear others like an ugly duckling unglued from your recent dose of medication, relax, there is nothing to worry about; you should embrace it in the recognition that you are normal, the materialistic greedy bastards numb from all sensibilities are the monsters; they are the freaks. Hug your inner deviant and smile because eventually this will all come crashing down upon them; and what are they going to do with their made up currency then? Burn it; burn it all. 

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Thursday, June 26, 2014

Vol. 183: Trigger Warning: Slenderman made Me do it

   Spread the Outrage. Spread the Truth.

Damien Hirst [5], The Physical Impossibility of Death in the Mind of Someone Living (1991)

Trigger Warning: May cause Outrage, Laughter and Enjoyment

     Greetings ladies and gentlemen, Republicans and Democrats, Independents and Bother-nots, cats and dog lovers, it has been a great sabbatical and much progress has been made on my novel, but sadly, trigger warnings do nothing to stop mass shootings, the spread of Jihad or the random acts of violence often accompanied with rumors of an online phantom-like entity known as Slenderman, all in a days work of corrupting the minds of the young and impressionable with diversions of perversion.  While many of you have pursued lives of agonizing frustration, consumed fragmentary moments of bliss, purchased fun new toys, witnessed car accidents or suffered through flooded and drained basements, followed only by meaningless posts on “the book,” we as a planet, as a community continue to move forward, in the only direction we know, but at what cost?

     Whether they are too fast or too slow, the atoms of time push onward, with little mention from the mass media about a political scandal the likes of which we haven’t seen since Watergate. As a result ladies and gentlemen, I am going to tell the IRS, if and when I receive an audit, (I'd like to imagine I'm important enough to be on their list) that I don’t feel the need to apologize for losing two years of tax return information. Everything, like the slow decay of decency and manners had crashed that Thursday afternoon when they arrived at my doorstep.
     All of this would of course lead this addled mind to believe that it is the powers that be, Obama his fellow Democrat leash holders and the Republican Party that are behind the curtains pulling the strings. Who else would want to bother the Tea-Party organizations? They were a serious threat to the power structure for a short time post-economic collapse. For it is becoming increasingly clear that Obama, the wolf in sheep's clothing according to Gary Younge of The Guardian, in “His second term has been characterised by a profound sense of drift in principle and policy. While posing as the ally of the immigrant he is deporting people at a faster clip than any of his predecessors; while claiming to be a supporter of labour he's championing trade deals that will undercut American jobs and wages.” That is a logical reason powerful Republicans have not come out vociferously in favor of a Whitewater style witch-hunt. They would rather hold their tongue and let the Obama administration do their dirty work for them.

     Speaking of witches and depending on who you talk to, can a grandmother run for the Presidency of the United States of Surveillance and have a chance at winning?
Bigger, badder, bolder and older than ever.
(Inset picture of Hilary Clinton) We are likely to find out soon enough.

     ISIS, it’s not just an Egyptian goddess or Bob Dylan song anymore, but a radical Sunni power grab in the vacuum left behind in Iraq after we deposed Saddam Hussein (for those that don't remember or who never cared to begin with, he was a Sunni). ISIS is a revolutionary radical Sunni sect bent on continuing the path back towards the Stone Age throughout Iraq and the rest of the Middle East. What ISIS has done is the unthinkable; it has brought the United States of Surveillance and Iran together in agreement. Oil executives and weapons manufacturers and smugglers the world over are applauding, hooting and hollering. 

     Ladies and gentlemen, what ever happened to the kidnapped girls in Nigeria? Attention deficit addled mainstream media, we thank you.
     A new study sponsored by Nasa's Goddard Space Flight Center has highlighted the prospect that global industrial civilization could collapse in coming decades due to unsustainable resource exploitation and increasingly unequal wealth distribution. Well, at least we will have that to look forward to.

     Although, you’d never know it by looking at the DOW Jones which is to hit a record 17k by next week sometime. Prosperity abounds and spreads like a cancer; embrace the new found wealth; live in it, roll in it, all that money, all that stuff.

But ask yourself this simple question, do you suffer from Stuffocation?

     British trend forecaster James Wallman has coined a new word: “Stuffocation.” (Think “stuff” and “suffocation.”) Wallman claims it’s one of the most crushing afflictions of modern society. Not only does the materialism it’s caused by have a disastrous ecological impact [2], the argument goes, it’s keeping us from leading more fulfilling lives.

With all of this stuff, or lack there of, or the lack of the time to acquire said stuff, do you sometimes suffer from FOMO? (Fear of Missing Out) Facebook is to blame.

     According to sources in Minnesota, you have to pull some men who live in the United States of Surveillance by the genitals, as a successful means to get them to watch the World Cup.

     Ladies and gentlemen, speaking of genitals, you have to hand it to traitor or patriot, depending on your love of surveillance and the never ending War on Terror, that Edward Snowden has massive ones in order to go on NBC and give an exclusive interview with talking head Brian Williams; or it may just be that he is a cleverly disguised CIA plant tip-toeing out the surveillance apparatus for the powers that be to see just how much they can get away with and what the attention deficient American public will put up with.  

     Then there is the proposed $45billion takeover of Time Warner Cable by Comcast, followed by the proposal of AT&T purchasing Direct TV as evidence of the ever approaching consolidation of American corporations eventually becoming one giant Monolith that will own everything and everyone. According to singer Greg Brown, 
                 there's a guru snoozin' in a limousine
                     and a whole industry pumping blood into recycled scenes
                     there'll be one corporation selling one little box
                     it'll do what you want and tell you what you want and cost whatever you got. (Where is Maria)

A Cable, Internet and telephone service cost 10x more in the United States of Surveillance than it does in South Korea, and they have faster speeds!!!

And we thought she was just a material girl.
     Finally, recent studies have shown that the infusion of young blood may reverse the effects of aging; and we thought Dracula was just a spooky story from Victorian England.

     Don’t worry; there is nothing to see here. Heads down as you stare into your phones; we would so hate to have you actually witness the decline of civilization. Ohhhh, invite me again to play Candy Crush Saga, please, pretty please!!!

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Wednesday, April 23, 2014

Vol. 182: A little Excerpt from the Novel,for my Vanity and Sanity

Here is an excerpt from the novel GIDDEOM that I am writing and the reason that I've been away from the Outrage for so long. This hasn't been edited or revised, so please excuse the unpolished nature, but would this set the hook of interest?

December 25th, 1999, Somewhere in Middle America

            Three old men stumbled, tiredly along a stretch of highway, carrying ragged suitcases and dirty canteens. They muttered quietly to themselves, every so often casting a wearied glance towards the nighttime sky. They watched in silence as cars and semi-trucks pass by going well over the speed limit. They say nothing nor extend not even an arm for the forlorn chance at receiving a welcomed ride. Not many people pick up hitchhikers anymore these days and three old men that look as if they haven’t bathed in weeks, even less.
            “How much further do we have to go Frank?”
            “Merle, if I even had a clue, do you think I wouldn’t have told you guys by now?”
            “Goldy, do you know where were going?”
            “All I know is that I got a message to head east, and that’s where were going, but for how long, I don’t know. Just keep walking will you. We’ll figure this thing out. As God as my witness, we’ll get there in time.”
            The three men walked on, their shoes almost worn out through the soles. What was left of their socks almost peeked out the front and could feel the night’s cold chill of wind. They gripped their old long coats tighter to their chests with their arthritic right hands and almost dragged their battered suitcases, briefly scuffing the ground every so often with each odd step.
On a telephone wire along the highway rested a large white dove. It shone like it was blanketed from an unseen spotlight.
The old man named Goldy who played the role of their leader noticed it. He stopped and the two other men did the same. “That is a sign were on the right path, I can feel it. Keep walking.”
They all nodded in silence and grinned.
The three old men continued to walk on in the darkness, every so often lit up by the light and the loud hum of passing cars until they saw the outline of a small building upon the horizon. They could barely make out the distant glow of what looked to be the building’s adjacent sign, flickering in the far off distance. Without a word, they brought their dirty canteens to their mouths and quickened their pace. They knew they were close.
As the three old men got closer to the building, they could now tell that it was a gas station. Oddly, although it was closed for the day, the sign stayed lit. Frank nudged Merle and the two men chuckled in giddy happiness. They had walked so far after leaving their shelter in the middle of the night three months ago. They had endured torrential rain, strong winds, small snow storms; strangers’ harassments and other inconveniences, but now appeared to finally be at their destination.
“Shhhhh, do you hear that?” Goldy asked his two companions.
“Huh? Did he say something?” Frank asked in response.
“I don’t know, did you?” Merle replied with a question of his own, confused.
“Shhhhh, there it is again,” Goldy said. He did his best to block out the mutterings of his two companions so that he could concentrate on what sounded to be a young woman crying. “It sounds like a young woman. This is it.”
The three old men stood at the closed front doors of the gas station, silhouetted underneath the flickering light of the adjacent sign.
“Is anyone here?!” Goldy shouted.
“Were in back of the building!” A man’s voice replied.
“Let’s go fellas, it’s what we’ve been waiting for,” Goldy said.
As the three old men turned the corner to the back of the building they began to hear the loud crying shrill of a newborn baby. A young woman was lying on her back atop of blankets placed atop of a cut up cardboard box, her legs shaking above a pool of blood. A young man was staring in disbelief and open mouthed wonder at the baby she held in her arms.
“My wife, my wife……..she just had a child, is there anything you can do?” the young man asked. The look on his face of fatigue matched the three pair of eyes that greeted him.
“I’m not sure there is anything to be done, but to love the child with all of your heart,” Goldy replied. The old man nudged Merle in the side and he did the same to Frank.
“What Goldy means is that from the looks of it, you all are going to be just fine. Isn’t that right Merle?” Frank stated.
“That’s right young man, for we’ve traveled a long way to find you two and him,” Merle said, as he pointed his shaking index finger toward the crying newborn baby.
“The name is Goldy and these are my friends, Frank and Merle. We mean not to surprise you, but like Merle said, we’ve traveled a long way to find you three,” the old man said. The tone of his voice did its’ best to reassure the young couple that they meant no harm.
“What do you mean? How did you know about us?” the young man asked. The shock on his face couldn’t disguise the fact that he was having a difficult time putting all of the pieces together.
“I think I know how, or at least why they’re here Joseph,” the young woman said, wiping the tears from her eyes as she cradled her crying newborn baby boy.
“Maire, what are you talking about?” Joseph asked.
“The reason I was pregnant in the first place Joseph. Don’t you see, this is his will,” Maire replied. The understanding was reciprocated in the eyes of the three old men that stood before her.
“Mr. and Mrs. Sheesah, I don’t want to alarm you. We’ve traveled a long way and I believe that you Maire are quite aware of why we are here. If the two of you would be so kind, we’ll then be on our way.  Would you do three tired old men the benefit and allow us to bless your son Tim?”
“It would be an honor,” Maire replied as she handed the child over to Goldy.
“How the hell do you know our names, let alone what we’re gonna call our boy? Maire, are you sure about this?” Joseph asked. He was ready to pounce at a moments notice.
“I am Joseph,” she replied. She nodded in agreement and looked down at their baby boy, “He is.”
The young child stopped crying as he was placed into the cracked and dirty hands of Goldy. The old man muttered something to Frank. Frank then began digging around in the duffel bag that he was carrying and brought forth a small silver flask, scraped and dirty from the their long journey. Merle grabbed it from his hands and unscrewed the cap. He took a long deep pull from the bottle and then gasped in relief.
“God, if there ever was a time for a drink,” Merle said as he wiped the drops of whiskey from the corner of his lips.
“Don’t hog it all. Show some damn manners Merle,” Frank said as he grabbed the flask. “Joseph, you most of all look like you need a drink. Here, it’s my family’s old Kentucky mash,” he said as he handed it to the young man.
Joseph gratefully received the flask and took a pull. His face and lips contorted as if there was something behind the skin on his face that pulled them back into his skull, but only for a brief moment. He felt the tingling lightning bolt extend to the nerve endings of his fingers and toes.
“Whooooo, heeeeeeeewwwwwwwww!” Merle shouted. He couldn’t help but slap his right knee in laughter. “The boy don’t know what hit him.”
“Alright, alright, enough clowning around gentlemen; let’s not forget why we’re here,” Goldy interjected.
“You’re right boss. Our apologies Ma’am,” Frank said. The embarrassment and joy humbled his appearance.
“As it has been written, let him be our guide,” Goldy whispered atop of the baby boy’s forehead, “Our everlasting savior, blessed be that unto all, his glory shall shine forevermore. Amen.”
“Amen,” Frank and Merle replied in unison.
Maire, who was struggling to stay awake as she watched three tired and dirty old men bless her newborn, caught a glimpse of something white in the corner of her eye. Her husband Joseph caught it too. The two of them, Maire on her back, legs akimbo, shaking and Joseph kneeling at her side, an arm around her shoulders gazed up towards and past the three men making baby talk, holding the newborn boy. There resting atop of the telephone wire that ran parallel to the back fence adjacent to the back of the gas station building was a large white dove. It was brilliantly luminescent in the glow of the moonlight.  For a split second, Maire and Joseph could’ve sworn that the darn bird smiled.
Goldy nodded in agreement as if to someone who had just whispered in his ear. “I understand, it is your will. It has to be done.”
He knelt down and handed the newborn baby boy back to its’ mothers waiting arms. There were tears falling down Goldy’s wrinkled face. He mouthed the words, “I’m sorry,” to Maire. With a puzzled look on her face she gazed back into his eyes.
Goldy stood up and Joseph rose to meet him, extending a hand to shake. Goldy grabbed the young man’s hand and shook it. Joseph wrapped his arms around the old man and hugged him deeply, and then convulsed with a look of wide eyed horror as his mouth gaped in shock at the other two old men standing before him.
Goldy slowly withdrew the blade from the young man’s stomach as he watched him fall down to his knees, blood spilling out onto the dark pavement.
Maire, holding her child close to her chest, screamed in horror.
Frank and Merle knelt in obedience before their old companion. Goldy with Maire’s screaming echoing in his ears, he drew the knife’s blood drenched blade across each of the other two old men’s’ necks. They collapsed face first onto the pavement as if wet bags of sands. Goldy brought the blade with his two hands in front of his stomach and gutted himself, without a word. Bliss covered his face as the sounds of the young woman screaming coupled with her newborn baby boy’s learning breaths escaped into the dark night.
The dove that had previously sat alone on the telephone wire was now accompanied by a large raven. In silence they looked down upon the scene of birth, murder and suicide as the young widow and her son wept for the new world that was to come.