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OGSB Author’s Easter Post

 

A Scene at an Inn in Caesarea

“I don’t think he carried a sword; a knife surely and he had tools too. He was a carpenter you know?”

The innkeeper was the kind who liked to talk. He had asked a curious question, ‘Did Jesus carry a sword?’ as he served bread and wine.  Although tired, I’d been walking for a long time without seeing anyone. It had been a while since I talked to a living thing. The life of a tutor of my training is one of constant travel and some conversation seemed fine. He had offered a meal and a room. He said he knew about Jesus, I was intrigued. Being dead and buried, then walking around preaching gets a lot of attention. The innkeeper believed Jesus to have been a firebrand.

“But you were one of his chosen, weren’t ya?” The innkeeper pressed his question doggedly. “I saw you once in Jerusalem.”

“No not chosen, but for a long while I traveled with them,” I said. “Now, Peter carried a weapon and he was well trained. Matthew, the tax collector, because of his work he carried weapons. He knew how to use his staff too. Tax Collectors are not well liked. Their weapons were inside their cloak, like mine. You saw my staff too. But Judas was always talking about some sort of fighting and weapons. Judas listened to Jesus talk and never heard a word of what he said about peace. He was not revolutionary, but Judas was. He wore his sword outside his garment and would have made us an armed band of ruffians, but Jesus always steered us from violence.”

“The preacher,” the innkeeper asked, “what was he like? Some of those pious ones come in here often. Their soft hands and need to tell people what to do, don’t make them popular with none of my clients.”

“Oh, I am a man of words and yet they never seem to completely describe Him.  Soft and pious are not words I would ever use talking about Jesus though?”

“Tell me then. What was he like?”

I was curious about his insistence to know more. Was he trying to get me to speak against the guards? Funny fellow. “Jesus was a man who worked with His hands.” I said. “I’ve seen his spit in the dirt and make a blind man see with the mud. He didn’t go wash like the priests, he brushed His hands together and moved on. He washed before eating surely.”

“I figure them stories to be tall tales.”

“They weren’t,” I was bragging maybe, “He did a lot more things like that. He made madmen sane, cured women’s problems, he once cast demons into a bunch of hogs and made them run into the river and drown.”

“You saw that?”

“Yes.”

“He wasn’t just a little prissy priest like the one comes in here and wants free wine?”

“No, he was powerful,” I argued, “Some of the furniture He and Joseph made was heavy, sturdy stuff.”

“My father was like that. He wasn’t a carpenter by trade, but he had calloused hands and could make all kinds of things to work in the fields.” The innkeeper offered more wine, but I covered my cup. He leaned over the table and waited.

“You would have liked him my friend.” I suggested.

“Think so?”

“Jesus was very strong, had the shape of a gladiator or one of the Legion and a similar stride. He was always erect, would look you in the eyes when he talked.” I told him.

“What was that dust up at the Marketplace. I heard he went crazy.” The innkeeper goaded.

“The Marketplace? I was there, it wasn’t a marketplace, it was the Temple, sacred space. It was God’s house and He said God was his father. They had started really being competitive, holding things to buy in his face. Money was being changed loudly and the livestock stink was intense. He had enough of their behavior, took a coil of rope and ran the lot of them off the property. He looked like a gladiator for a moment, they were afraid of Him.”

“He was a revolutionary, no?”

“No, he was not trying to overthrow Roman law or desecrate, he was cleaning out unclean and bad behavior at the Temple. It’s much too beautiful for all the trading and material things. He was a gentle man. He had wisdom of the ages and would take time to listen, then explain the scriptures, give us entirely different understandings of what God’s word said and what the prophets wrote. His words had such impact, such meaning. He would comfort you, encourage you and promise to empower you to do exactly what was right. Jesus, was a man who looked like the Greek statues of gods, spoke like the final authority and had the ability to make you comfortable in your own skin.”

“What of these followers, the cursed Legions and the Priest hate them. That Roman Saul, he has become obsessed about the movement.”

“Now he is called Paul, I know him, we had the same teacher, Gamaliel, who is partial to the teachings of Jesus. Gamaliel is worried about him. I told him the other day, ‘If Paul could have met Jesus, somewhere alone without a crowd where the little rooster didn’t think he had to play that role; it would have been different.’”

“But Jesus disappeared? Right?”

“He ascended into Heaven is how Peter described it. I was not there.”

“What are you guys left behind ‘sposed ta do?”

“Just what I’m doing,” I smiled, “Blessings on you. All He asked of us was to tell others about Him. Treat others with respect and be good examples.”

The shopkeeper was distracted by others in the in, “I’ve gotta get to work. You gonna be around?”

“Just for the night. I have a young man to tutor in Tyre.”

“Wish you could stick around.”

“Keep your ear to the ground. The disciples preach, there are many followers who teach. They get together, eat, visit and study the Old law and what Jesus taught. The word is not for just the Jews anymore. You can live after your death as a follower of Jesus.”

“Hadn’t heard that.”

“Now you have. Jesus said, ‘Seek and ye shall find.’ But it has to be your decision. I must rest for tomorrow. Blessings again.”

“Good talkin’ with ya.”

Authors: W.D.Edmiston, J North, Spencer Allen.

OGSB Authors.com

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Western Adventure with heart from Robert M. Starr

An epic Western Gunfighter novel for Christian readers

OGSBAuthors’ Robert M. Starr published his fourth book, The Mountain Valley Wrangler, a western saga in the style of Louis L’Amour, on February 2, 2020, and this one promises to be a page-turner too.  Starr won writing awards for two previous books. More story details are available when you sign up to the OGSB Authors website sidebar; those signing up an email address and the note WRANGLER in the message block will soon be notified when the details are finalized for a week-long free eBook promotion.  For those of you who can’t wait or who prefer to hold a book in your hands, The Mountain Valley Wrangler is available in paperback or for Kindle readers from Amazon.

Young adults are hero and heroine in Wrangler

“I’ve always loved westerns.  I grew up watching western movies and reading western novels.  And I lived the life of a cowboy on a Nebraska ranch.  My first writing award was for a western novel.  Before I wrote The Mountain Valley Wrangler, I walked the ground that my characters walked and the trails they rode into the Sangre de Cristo Mountains.  I camped beside the lakes where they camped.  I spoke to the children and grandchildren of the early settlers of the Wet Mountain Valley to learn their history.  I “haunted” the files of the Wet Mountain Tribune, and I spent considerable time in the Denver Public Library.  Then I wrote the story of Will Bartlett and his family.  I hope you enjoy it.” Robert M. Starr

Edmiston, the moderator, and Robert Starr are the principal authors on the OGSB Authors website and blog. We have four authors listed and at least three more new books out soon. As the press release mentions above, if you go to our contact page and give us your email, we will notify you of anything new, free eBooks, and we will soon have a contest with real prizes when you sign up.

We also have a great addition coming to OGSB, a fine artist who travels the States and elsewhere painting beautiful landscapes. This is an award winning artist whose work is exhibited in galleries and whose art is highly sought after by a distinguished set of buyers. We will also let you know when her page on this site is completely finished. WDE

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Sam Spradlin and broken glass – Spence Allen

Sam Spradlin was a big man of British lineage, who flew a Hawker Hurricane in the Battle of Britain with a very respectable 14 kills.  Sam followed a nurse from the airfields of WWII to America where they promptly married. He was a pleasant man who loved people. They cared about him because he genuinely wanted to help everyone he came across. That meant he often gave a lot of attention to people who needed help in his auto repair shop. Those who took the most of his time were the auto racers because he was a racer himself. They all knew he had a great sense of humor and looked at the world in an entirely different and humorous view.

Sam shared a building with Chadwick Stang, another Brit, whose expertise was the spinning wonder called the turbocharger. It was an add-on for increased power that had proven itself on several aircraft during the same war were Sam had served. Chadwick however, had served in clean hangers and in places far from battle. The two grandfathers liked each other and at the same time Chadwick was terribly competitive and secretly still a bit awed by Sam the Air Ace – so many years after their war experiences. Often, Sam was the butt of his snide remarks and bad jokes. Chadwick was a bit of a know-it-all and delighted in second guessing Sam. He was happiest when getting the attention of racers who gathered in his office away from Sam. In other words, Chadwick deserved what he had coming.

Chadwick was an engineer and had been an advisor to several aircraft companies on the subject of turbocharger design and manufacture, He sold turbo’s and had several young men either working or hanging out at his shop. They came to learn how to use their turbos and to hear Chadwick brag on the turbo story, his part in it and what racer was using his equipment.  At the time of this story, auto enthusiasts everywhere were discovering that they could add an easy 100 horsepower to their car by adding a turbo. Therefore, turbochargers quickly became the target of thieves hoping to make a fast buck.

One night, two burglars had smashed a window panel at Chadwick’s office and because of a silent alarm, been caught by police while loading turbos into their truck. This was before every policeman had a body camera or it would have shown that for the last two or more minutes of the burglary something funny had happened. The officers arrived quietly. They grabbed the first burglar from behind and noiselessly, pushed him to the ground and handcuffed him. The third officer, who was standing in the dark, went unnoticed by the second burglar, who kept handing boxes of turbos out of the window. The officer took then and waited. The short delay gave the others time to put the first burglar in their patrol car. At a signal the police officers regrouped, grabbed the second man, pulled him through the window and arrested him. Quite the odd little comedy of the absurd! That instance set up the comeuppance of Chadwick Stang.

Chadwick, decided he did not want to call the landlord to replace the window and ordered a piece of glass to do it himself.  He took a long lunch with Sam, dropped by the glazier and picked up his glass. When they got back to the shop, several of the regular hanger’s-on had gathered in Chadwick’s office. He unwrapped the brown paper wrapped glass and discovered it was about on inch too long to fit the opening. There was a round of teasing and harassment from the audience of auto racers aimed at Chadwick for mis-measuring the hole. This put him in his worst state of mind; out of favor with the racers in front of Sam. Chadwick was befuddled, angry at the teasing and very uncomfortable that Sam was watching. He knew Sam would bring this up several times, not just a few days, but years into his future.

Resolved to correct his mistake, he dug in a toolbox, found a forlorn looking glass cutter in the back of a drawer and proceeded to score the glass with a straight edge to shorten it. The technique was to score the glass completely across then turning the tool around tap it with the weighted ball on the handle. The shorter piece was supposed to crack off along the scribed line. A person experienced in this art could cut several pieces of glass in a few minutes without problem. Chadwick, however, was not experienced and failed to properly score the glass. When he tapped the crack, rather than follow the scoring like it was supposed to, the break ran off at a 30-degree angle. The only thing left to do was buy another. Sam took the tool and hammered the piece of glass into several bits.

“Why did you do that,” Chadwick whined”

Sam grinned, “To keep you from taping it together and putting it in the window.” The other men in the room knew Chadwick well and knew his tendency to “cheap-out” when that sort of thing happened. Chadwick was steaming as Sam grabbed the closest receptacle and swept the glass fragments into it. “That’s my manufacturer’s award trophy from Garretson you idiot.” Chadwick was livid. The racers howled at his discomfort.

Sam measured the window and sent his parts runner back to the glazier for a new piece of glass. As the runner left, Sam saw a uniformed service tech enter the shop across the street. The seed of an idea took root and blossomed. He moved away from the other racers. Sam watched for the man to come back out and as he waited, intercepted the runner with the new piece of wrapped glass. Sam took it, walked across the street and caught the service tech just as he came out of the building. The man was someone who he a spoken to on several occasions at a local restaurant and wore a generic uniform with a name patch on the left pocket side of his shirt. He had exactly the right look for Sam’s plan.  In a moment, Sam had the man enlisted in his scheme. Sam went back across the street and waited in the office until the service tech walked through Chadwick’s door. When he did, he was holding the new piece of brown paper wrapped glass.

“Hi,” said the service tech, “Sally sold you the wrong piece of glass this morning, she wanted me to swap with you. This one is yours, if I could get the other. Looks like you haven’t put it in yet.” The man motioned to the empty window pane in the office.

“I don’t have any glass” Chadwick said, getting up and leaving the office. On his way out the door he said, “Don’t know what you are talking about.”

With that Sam knew what to do. He spoke quietly to the service tech who went outside and pretended to make a call on what was then a modern mobile phone; the Motorola Dyna-Tac also called a brick phone. The peanut gallery of racers watched and wondered what would happen next. Just about the time Chadwick came back, the service tech came back too at Sam’s direction. A couple of the men noticed and exchanged whispers, waiting to see what happened.

“Sir, I called Sally, she said if you would just check your glass, you will find it’s too big.”

“I don’t have any glass,” Chadwick sputtered. “Just leave I can’t help you.” Chadwick’s voice had risen several decibels. That and his general discomfort made him look a bit like Barney Fife trying to explain himself to Sheriff Taylor.

“Oh, Chadwick give him the glass, maybe he can do something with it.” At the same time, Sam handed the tech the trophy where he had swept the glass shards. The room erupted with laughter. The tech took the trophy and left.

“Come back here with my trophy.” Chadwick howled.

By then several of the men in the room had figured out it was all Sam’s doing. Sam went out and got in the service truck with the tech and took him to lunch, spurring another round of laughter. The joke was all anyone talked about for a week.

It’s never good to make fun of a person who you think is a push-over; the kind of person who is helpful and kind. Creation has it’s own way of spinning the globe into position for them to point out your foolishness. Kindness and honest effort on the part of other people is not weakness, it’s maturity. The kind, honest and meek in appearance will not engage you in endless debate. But in the end, they will put an end to foolishness and bad behavior. This is a lesson that children and those adults who act like them must often learn the hard way. Spence Allen

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Yes, Virginia – citizens do need the same guns as the military!

This Virginia grab at guns seems to have made an impression on the left. Don’t let that fool you. It reminds me of the Civil War battles at Gettysburg at Big Round Top and Little Round top. A superior force of Genral Lee’s troops led by Sgt. William Oates attacked a New York 15th Regiment and a detachment of Berdan’s Sharpshooters under the command of 1st. Sgt. Wyman White.  At Big Round top Oates troops charged several times and were pushed back. Significant to this story is that when they regrouped, they were told to attack the rear flank of the Union troops. They were ordered ahead before the men could refill ammuniton pouches or even their canteens. They were battle hardened troops with a lot of experience. Oates wanted to stay at Big Round top and establish a defensive position. But a too-confident superior ordered them after the Union Troops. The marched with older muskets and flintlocks and a few captured Springfield’s which were slow to reload.

At the next position, Little Round Top, White’s men had retreated and taken up even better positions. It was a carnage of unbelievable proportions. The battle of Gettysburg was decided right there when the Southern troops were in full retreat. The New York citizen regiment’s under Sgt. White’s command – all of them Sharpshooters were carrying newer percussion cap rifled muskets which reloaded much easier. The men too were chosen because they passed the test of ten succesive shots into a bullseye at 600 yards in a five inch pattern; not a hair more would pass. Once they passed that test, these citizen soldiers were sent to the front lines. The far smaller group, so armed, untested and little training beat back and almost destroyed the entired CSA regiment commanded by Oates’ superior force.

It was still true in Fallujah years later, expecting the citizen soldiers there to be a fairly easy fight the US military leaders almost got our asses kicked. Our guys found dozens of training, gun handling and tactical classrooms. The citizen soldier was tough, prepared and ready to defend their position.

The moral to the story? There is no reason for us to think all we need are hunting firearms.  The defense of our Second Amendment rights, or more precisely, the government’s restriction on doing a damn thing about them must be preserved. We cannot assume as did Sgt. Oates superiors, that we have them on the run and they will not keep running. These guys think they have a better postition and will make another stand. We, as citizens, can’t have our figurative weapons unequal, with empty canteens and be low on ammunition. In fact, our superior weapons of, truth, educating ourselves in the law, and acting as a government of the people must be backed up by another charge.  Soon. The government of Virginia need to know it’s not just a matter of mounting another charge.

The fact is, 1st. Sgt Wyman White did exactly that, when the Southern forces attempted another assault on Little Round Top. He ordered his men to charge down the hill.  Had Sgt. Oates of the CSA won at Little Round top, the Civil War would have been won by the South. We would be two nations. One with slavery as a functional part of their national identity. Yes, we need as good and as powerful weapons as those that will be brought against us. And we as a civilian militia should train ourselves to shoot, to argue with our government and make sure the people we send to Congress go there with the same attitude. And, no, that does not mean I would hope that the south would have won – not implied or suggested.  Slavery should never have happened in the first place.

The first amendment is protected by the second. When one goes away so goes the next. The government of Virgina was seeking to put the force of the United States Military and their weapons against their citizens. That is staggering and the founders took the power of the government away in order to make sure it never happened.

Sgt. Oates went home to Alabama and eventually became Governor of the State. 1st. Sgt Wyman White went home and became postmaster of his community. Years later, Oates wrote to White commending his courage, professionalism and said there should be a statue erected at Gettysburg to him. WDE

OGSB Authors Associate, Spence Allen has a new murder mystery due out this month. Sign up on our Contact Page and we will let you know when you can get a free eBook copy. ogsbauthors.com

 

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Puppy Socialism

We can do something cool with this neat thing I found, doncha, think?

If you have a heart and maybe a puppy, you know what you must do when the well-intentioned little knot head comes, muddy footed through the doggy door again dragging something dead and nasty. Do you get rid of the dog, call it names, kick it? Well, I said “if you had a heart”, so no. Do you let him keep the smelly dead thing? No, unless you have a thing for stench. In most instances, we just love on the puppy, give it a breath chew and make a bit of fuss, to let them know you are displeased. They now know that all their ideas aren’t great ones. You wonder if the puppy thinks, “Gosh, we should do something with this great thing I found, don’t you think?”

That describes about half the population in America, who think they have an entirely new thought. It just popped right into their head. Maybe it will solve some conundrum that all the experts say can’t be fixed. It usually pops into their head after some character in a movie, or another puppy-minded individual, trying to be the smarter person in the room, mentions it. It’s why the irons in hotel rooms have a tag, “Do not use this device while still wearing the garment.” Oh, and a huge series of internet “fails.” Then their is the vacuous idea of socialism as a form of government. 

During the early 19th Century we had this new electricity stuff and we attached it to everything from plants to our fiddle-de-bits expecting it to be a panacea. Today it’s artificial intelligence and of course, the “new” idea of socialism.

Let’s first examine the thought that socialism is a new idea. Flatly, it isn’t. This type of idealistic take on government goes back to the Socrates and Plato. The latter came up with the idea that “really smart” people should run society and not so smart people should help them live their lives, spend heir money and provide situational ethics to daily routine.  It has been attempted with disasterous result. At least five times in the 20th century alone,  socialism failed on a grand scale resulting in a world war, intentional starvation, unintentional starvation, a slaughter of educated people, massive waste of resources and disillusionment of entire nations – and over 100 Million dead. We know why that happened, it’s no secret.  Socialism does not work because it’s the grand idea from the point of view of the guys who expect to be running things. And when they run things, they invariably resort to violence to enforce their will.

Then there is the issue of human nature. The great planners in the elite think all people “ought” to do everything the right way. When they try to design the right way for us they come up with something that is the very best, bestest way. Humans do not behave that way, even the Biblical Jesus  if you look at it objectively, couldn’t get that kind of response. He offered eternal life, the conquering of death to an audience aching for relief from poverty, judgement, corrupt politicians created by elitists. Even that beleagered group would not sign up 100%. He knew it too, telling his followers there would always be a remnant.

  It’s also called Utopian, which is an impossiblity in governmental affairs because of the same problem with human nature.  That is the difficulty with socialism and social programs, they are reaching for 100% effectiveness and participation  by everyone.  Idealism is tried on everything too, creating utopian programs with bookish names that mean nothing. They create, one social program after another, which falls short. And then there is the fact today that much of what is broken got that way from social programs.

America works best like aircraft engines, at ¾ throttle, producing best power at lowest fuel consumption. Not all airplanes fly as high, don’t carry as much and little ones are not as safe as big ones. Individually though, they work best when they operate at less than wide open throttle.

 Every year, those who rediscover socialism in college think, “Gosh, we ought to do something with this thing I found, don’t you think?” Trying socialism again is the rough equivalent of an intense examination of a puppy’s stool, hoping to find a clean end. Maybe use it as a Crayola. All it has ever done is create the same kind of smelly mess – and literally thousands and millions of dead people. One of the greater populist leaders said of socialism, “But the death of one person is a local tragedy, whereas the death of thousands is merely a statistic.”  Now that’s cold. It does not work, and the reasons why are easy to find, and yet they want to try it again.

Why is it then that people do the exact same thing as the puppy and yet we make excuses for them. The dog does not know better, but even a high school educated friend should know not to bring figuratively smelly things around. But they do, and you and I let them get away with it. What we should do is rub their noses in it and swat them with a newspaper. The rank and file American, just a small percentage of them, could stand up and give our representatives the notion they will not get reelected unless they do things the was we want – plans that work well when we and they work well. 

Spencer A. Allen

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Adolescent Impeachment

Looks like a hissy fit by a clique of Junior High girls who think they “know how

It’s a hard read. This show trial business they are calling impeachment makes is hard to watch, understand and hear. But when you look at it from the point of view of the Tri-A or Adult Arrested Adolescent and what we know of the state of American education, it makes sense.

Let’s review. The Tri-A is an adult lifestyle, thinking and behavior model that shares all the characteristics of what we know about adolescence. We know that adolescence is a chaotic period in a teens life, but the Tri-A or Adult Arrested Adolescent is an adult locked in the mindset of a hot blooded, self-absorbed, hormonal teen. That mindset remains into adulthood but gets more complicated when the adult enter the working world, seeking positions where they can “change things” or “make a difference.” That’s when the adolescent tendency to choose almost every hill as the one they are willing to die on gets tedious. Everything they want becomes worthy of the ultimate sacrifice. That is just as long as they can have a Carmel Macchiato afterward and congratulate themselves.

Their side of the impeachment matter thinks they understand those very complex tools that change public opinion – but they are failing in their execution through poor selection of their prepared witnesses (Mini-Manchurian Candidates) who fail to support their hastily drawn and redrawn myth of what constitutes criminal behavior. The adolescent is the first to decide they can redefine things, like my son who decided at age 11 he was a teenager. His logic was that his age now had two numbers, making him a teen. It was just a minor change in interpretation of the rules. “But, but, it looks like a teenager!” (said with angst)

Another stand-out characteristic adolescent trait is the fear of being wrong and inability to accept criticism from those discussing their behavior. Much of what is displayed in the hearings is just that; fear. You see the “prosecution” side trying to find an identity for and a label for what they are doing when the rules do not really apply. There is an ongoing struggle to keep changing labels as the Tri-As seek an identity that works with their peers and supporters. Meanwhile, the adolescent belief that they can baffle us all into believing “their issues” are unique, never before solved and poorly understood by lesser minds. Therefore, actually creating out of thin air those issues has weighed heavily on the main aggressor, Mr. Schiff. Watching the collective minded cohort surrounding him, they become a folie à deux and appear to be apathetic to the madness. As he pounds his gavel in imperious fashion the worn out faux-trial tilts at windmill after windmill in search of a real crime. The Chairman’s chair becomes his own, Rozinante, as he tries to conquer what he sees as simple-minded opposition. It is like early adolescents who still have some idea that somewhere, in some special circumstance, they are special wield almost magical power. “I wear Sargon’s ring, fear me.”
On the other side of the argument there are a few trying to stop what looks like a hissy fit by a clique of Junior High girls who think they “know how.” Those few who do resist seem just as bombastic and oozing of misplaced enthusiasm. They play the role of an older group, somewhat adolescent itself but less collective in their thinking. The two argue over minor issues more because they dislike each other rather than something substantive. The only adults in the room who attempt to bring truth and reason to the situation are ignored. About half of the opposition group exhibit the same fear of criticism and sensitivity as the other. They hesitate to be truly involved for fear their behavior might cost them votes or fewer likes on social media. They certainly don’t want to discolor their self-constructed reality in which they are a sort of white knight, able to understand both sides of the discussion. They sound good, but like most adolescents they make decisions based on feelings and who is praising them. Both sides of the war-of-words, are like teens, tending to underestimate how difficult change and the complexity of things can be. They channel all things through the filter of “what will other people in my clique think?” The actual work they are supposed to be doing has been lost in a dust-devil of tears, hurt feelings and adolescent self-doubt aimed at proving themselves “right.”.

For the most part, the entire episode can be likened to a disagreement over the decoration of the gym for prom by two sides of a simple question that has been answered many times in the past through patience and understanding. This isn’t the first prom; we have fixed problems like this in the past easily and cooperatively. But this time, the aggressor, Mr. Schiff must lose. They act like children, but the adult solution was written long ago specifically to guide us in how to deal with these matters – we have rules. In this case, each side is seeking some Deus ex Machina that provides a third solution without either having to compromise. It’s emblematic of self-destructive Adult Arrested Adolescence. Gone is reason, humanity, kindness and humility.

[1] Folie à deux, shared psychosis, or shared delusional disorder is a psychiatric syndrome in which symptoms of a delusional belief and sometimes hallucinations are transmitted from one individual to another.

[1] :  Deus Ex Machina -A person or thing (as in fiction or drama) that appears or is introduced suddenly and unexpectedly and provides a contrived solution to an apparently insoluble difficulty

Read more at woodyedmiston.blog OBSB Authors

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Random Thoughts

Avoid anyone who gives you advice starting with “All you have to do is . . because these people will cause you pain.

Occam’s Razor does not apply to conspiracy theories.

Love is what make’s two people think they are pretty even when no one else does.

Any person, having taken delivery of a dump truck load of 9 yards of earth — and being equipped with only a shovel and a wheelbarrow will have no problem with the suggestion aliens built the pyramids.

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High School

Senior year. A final year of learning supposed to get us ready to enter life as an employable person, able to cope with others and make some contribution to society. Or something like that.
Have you ever noticed in this over psychoanalyzed society how often those four years of high school enter into our adult lives. For instance, movies include all kinds of high school events that spill over into adult behavior and cause by all sorts of bad things. Serial killers; dissed as kids for their disabilities, their weakness or poverty become murderous. Shy teens decide that attempting to better themselves is impossible because they are of the wrong “caste.” Carrie, of course is one of the more calamitous. In how many Criminal Minds and SVU episodes have the high school victims becoming the adult bullies. Former high school heartthrobs are dead at the hands of this person who has become a predator?
Even Hallmark Romances are heavily sprinkled with stories of high school sweethearts who are reunited. They are popular. They feed upon the regret of an audience who all wish some lost love would have worked out.
But twenty years later, many of us are still reacting to today’s events based on what happened to us in High School. We still see ourselves as outside the “cool kids” group. We are afraid to talk to a co-worker because he or she is too pretty. Worst, we refuse to talk to co-workers because we think we are too pretty. Alternatively, we live on those high school memories of long-ago football or Class Favorite successes without every accomplishing much more. High School is a place to make mistakes. It’s not a launching ground that defines who we will be in the future. It’s just supposed to educate us at the lowest level. We should never stop learning and we don’t need school to do it. We never finish learning, and that is the successful way to approach life. We must not have college to succeed, but we must keep learning. Never before has this been easier. Learn something today, it will do you good.

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Welcome to My Blog Page

Hello, and I hope you enjoy a wide range of discussion topics. If it is social, religious, political or just nutty, you may find it here. We are anxious to hear your feedback and hope you will subscribe to the site as well. When really great opportunities come up or we would like specific input from you, we might send you a short note. Sincerely, OGSB Partners. Please follow my blog using the last entry at the bottom of the blog roll.

Thoughts on Impeachment and on Our Republic

 

 

I listened to the Senate impeachment trial. I heard the summations from those representing the President, and those summations represent the facts I have heard presented, facts suppressed in the House impeachment in what may have been the most unjust and unfounded proceeding in congressional history.

The only actual fact witness, Sondland, to testify in the House impeachment was finally forced to admit that the only statement he heard directly from the President was that the President wanted “nothing, no quid pro quo,” and that all of his, Sondland’s, additional testimony was based solely on his, Sondland’s, presumptions.

Today, I listened to summations from those defending the President in the Senate trial and from those managers who represented the House. Each of the Democrats offered ‘urgent’ pleas and ‘strong’ arguments that our nation is doomed if we do not remove Donald Trump from office. Finally, I listened to the summation of Adam Schiff.

Had I not known the facts, the lack of factual evidence of any legal wrongdoing on the part of the President (I actually watched the impeachment proceedings in the House; I did not get my opinions from our biased media), I might have been persuaded by Mr. Schiff’s impassioned speech. As I listened, I was reminded of Saul Alinsky’s most famous book, the 1971 “Rules for Radicals: A Pragmatic Primer for Realistic Radicals,” which “includes a dedication to ‘the first radical known to man who rebelled against the establishment and did it so effectively that he at least won his own kingdom — Lucifer.'” One of the primary tactics of those who would destroy personal freedom is to accuse opponents of doing the very things they themselves are doing.

Adam Schiff’s closing argument presented every accusation the Democrats made against Donald Trump, as if each charge had been fully proven and was undisputed fact. Nothing could be less true. Sadly, many Americans, who have not heard the actual testimony and know only what has been offered as factual by the “mainstream media” will likely believe that our President is guilty of “heinous” wrongdoing. That Adam Schiff could lie so fluently and passionately, even eloquently, did not surprise me; I had heard him do it before. But his words made clear the danger our nation faces as the Democrats move farther and farther to the “radical left” of political thought.

As an aside to that concern for truth, and because it seems to have become a universal failing among our government representatives and in our news media, I am concerned and appalled by the constant and seemingly universal failure to understand that we are a republic, not a democracy.  The fact that we are a republic and not a democracy is critical to our freedoms.   Our founders feared a democracy as “mob rule.” The two words are not synonymous; the terms are far from interchangeable, and the failure to understand the difference, as well as the indifference to the reality of that difference between a democracy and a republic, nurtures the seeds of destruction to our freedoms. It may seem to be “nitpicking” to desire accuracy in our language, but “words have meanings” and meanings have consequences. Clarity is important, in our language and in our perceptions. Historical awareness may determine how we respond to the dangers to our way of life.  So, it grieves me to hear our leaders (in truth, they are not our leaders; they are our representatives, answerable to us) so constantly describe our nation as a democracy, whether they be Democrat or Republican, rather than as a republic. Preserving our Republic is essential to preserving our liberty . . .

At the close of the Constitutional Convention of 1787, when Benjamin Franklin was queried as he left Independence Hall on the final day of deliberation—in the notes of Dr. James McHenry, one of Maryland’s delegates to the Convention, an anecdote reads:  “A lady asked: ‘Well Doctor what have we got a republic or a monarchy?’ ‘A republic,’ replied the Doctor, ‘if you can keep it.'”  To be able to keep our republic, we must know what it is, and we must know why it is worth fighting for.

(Note for those of you who might have been lost deep in an underground cavern and just now reached fresh air and blue skies:  The House of Representatives impeached the President; following the Senate trial, he was acquitted!)

Robert M. Starr

Cooties in Congress

Anthropologist Tok Thompson of University of California says Cooties are “profoundly important” if kids choose to participate in the mythology, law and language that surrounds them. Simon Broner of Penn State in Harrisburg says kids represent their own “semiliterate society with their own touchstones” according to an article in Smithsonian magazine by Jane C. Hu. If an adult does stop learning adult critical analysis at adolescence — as I theorize — then it stands to reason some of that mythological reality stays with them in Adult Arrested Adolescence. I introduced you to that concept in my last blog.

Name calling

Look how “adolescent law, myth, language and loyalties become a starting place for adults to become fixed or trapped into a constantly argumentative, self-loathing street fighter for causes.  Politicians with the easy access to the “bully pulpit” of their positions become Tri-As when they use intimidation, threats of suit and other legal action against people who disagree with them.  They are just as apt to become potent salespeople or showmen and could make a real career in either field. Fake news then is nothing new it has just been given permission you might call it when politicians fear to lose the support of voting blocs like BLM or the religious right. So, cooties really play a part in this whole show of Adolescent Impeachment.

They are just techniques used by both the junior high “fem-phenom” who rules an adolescent clique adopted by colorful upwardly mobile politicians on both sides of the aisle of the United States Congress.

The cootie myth

Cootie, is a part of that secret language of children. Their semi-literate societies choose to believe in cooties; they can experience real nauseous if cooties got on them; and there are stories in abundance of children being persecuted for “having cooties.”   Even today, you still see movies that refer to them.  Cooties, boogers and pee-pee are all things that really belong in the pre-adolescent world.   Our parents teach us to keep our fingers out of our noses and kids. quickly figure out that a booger is a ballistic weapon.  We tell our children to wash our hands in the bathroom and watch where we step in public restrooms and some of them figure out boogers, poop and urine can be tools for torment.  This adds a pejorative term or two to the adolescent vocabulary e.g. “Pee-pee head” “You peed in your pants.”  Each becomes terminology in a playground battlefield for position and power.  When an Tri-A finds his place inside some social or political movement, name-calling just becomes another cootie term.  “Figuratively then they decide our side does not have cooties but their side does; I know how to do that!  Those guys are ________!” Look at the kinds of perverse and cruel terms used against President Trump, Obama, Bush all because of political differences rather than real offenses.

 Just fill in the blank with a term like racist, hateful, or anti-anything, and suddenly, they begin to feel at home in a clique, a place that is familiar and cozy. Everyone there understands your language. This kind of public disorder in our legislative branches “trickles down” into the normal citizens activity.

 I have worked as a peach officer called to a disturbance and seen a Tri-A verbalize exactly this sort of thing.  A dog pooped in someone’s yard, they call the police, they call animal control, they go to the city council meetings, and they do crazy things just to promote their own importance and power.  Police see this sort of thing all the time, but it does not affect the entire country when neighbors argue.

An unprecedented black mark on our country

Adult adolescence has greater impact when it occurs in our government and when it becomes rampant in our culture because of our schools.  Tri-As in government are damaging to the entire country.  It creates what we know as a “bunker mentality” that blocks out all rational thought.  It gives a name to a position behind a barrier from which the acolyte figuratively screams: “Don’t argue with me, you have cooties!”

 Without reservation, having understood the FBI from the time that Hoover ran it, working with the FBI people in my areas, I can say they the Mueller, Comey and so-called FBI standoff with congress have none of the adult behavior I saw from earlier FBI agents following Hoover’s creed of conduct.  This is a disgrace to the reputation of the Federal Bureau Reputation and I and sure it will take another Hoover to restore respect.  Seeing them on television, reading the language of their statements and comments, the entire debacle is based on cooties.  Their opposition has cooties and those they support, took money from, peddled influence with, and the way they stacked their investigative staff with true believers is nothing more.  “They got cooties, we don’t.”

The adolescent impeachment and many of those involved on both sides, their staff, their supporters seem more concerned about winning the “gotcha wars” with each other and using the media to keep score.  We have watched mere handful of self-important people play out this farce who are more interested in doing things their way than the original rules under which we were founded.  They are not serving the American people.  What is happening in that regard is a Tri-A process of the junior high clique.  It is sad that the people there do not have greater maturity.

Photo Bruce Anderson, Unsplash

I SEE PIGMENTS TOO

Photo – Tony Ross – Unsplash

“I see pigments of myself from the people I meet.” Kimberly Pauig kimpaulig.wordpress.com

Thank you Kimberly. Today Spence A. Allen, Associate Author of OBSB adds his thoughts to a complex world. WDE

Isn’t this a great way of expressing what we call the “take away” these days when we meet new people or ideas.  Some pigments are great memories that add brilliant hues, or some deep rich meaningful color. I’m a happy guy and the colors decorate my day like flags. Looking up the word pigment, I naturally expected it to mention color. But pigment also means the carbons and metals that occur in nature. Pigments of myself then would then be the very makeup of who you are; that you see in others. That’s rather profound. Certainly, we are all individuals, but we are made up of the same natural elements. That would mean that the only “color” differences we really face are not the things of which we are made, but mythical definitions we have “made up” about the value of other people. We make up the pigments of race like a small child makes up imaginary friends.

We are more alike than we are different. It reminds me of the quotation from Major John Bell Hood – played by Levon Hill in In the Electric Mist: “Venal and evil men are destroying the world you were born in. It’s us against them my good friend. Don’t compromise your principles or abandon your cause.”

 I take that quotation as an upbeat approach to good. We all have the same ability, if we ignore the venal and evil of this world, to achieve great success as a person. Not as a people, but singular as a person — an individual. We can be an island of content and goodness if we recognize the piments. We share them with those who do not compromise their principles or abandon their individual goals. We travel this earth alongside them, recognizing the beauty of our basic sameness, while allowing us both to reach our uniqueness.

Spencer A. Allen