Could it get anymore self-serving?

 Yesterday we heard the World is uncertain, people need to maintain social distance, wear masks and stay at home. For many that mean they have no job and no social safety net except unemployment insurance. Despite the Gov guarantees to meet for some unknown time, the exact wages they made when working and reducing taxes, people are suffering.

Not only because many have lost loved ones or friends in COVID-19, its because they are broke and uncertain.

In this time sheep are vulnerable to religious nonsense, having their savings accounts drained, worry about their kids who now have no school. Many have no daycare as well.

And, after the storm, nobody knows what will happen except we know Gates and those like him will go on pushing his agenda for world dominance. How could Gates, not even a college graduate, businessman know so much? He pushed for ten million African men to be circumcised and sits heavy with the WHO. Today, as any idiot could tell you male circumcision, is just something from the Stone Age and it's

not going to curtail HIV-AIDS. It hasn't, in fourteen years USAID, The Clintons, WHO, and PEFFAR has pushed to cut African foreskin and used lies, exaggerations, offers of health care and all of the unethical of a snake oil salesman.

So, now where is the reason? If the US had a guaranteed annual income of 20,000 a year and Universal Health Care would this crisis offer any less insecurity? The answer to any reasoned mind is yes.

                            Will we Get ON after Virus-19

      Its been at least three weeks since the U.S. began to slowly grind down.  Today we have an estimated 14,000 dead as a result of Virus complications. The science here seems sketchy, much of it on the fly and designed to scare people without much logical reason. Sadly that the vast majority of the human sheep population some desperate and some defiant it can't affect them or theirs.

Meanwhile, the government keeps issuing more draconian isolation orders, many seem pointless and other political. For example, no one may move except for food or work. At the very same time, Churches are allowed to meet as usual and spread the contagion!

Trillions of dollars in printer press cash is being infused to keep the economy above water. We all know there really is no actual money available since the government has buried itself in war debts and not supporting in fractures and health care. The social safety net never existed and now the free-fall phase.

Capitalism is the propagandized God of the masses and we can think, what if we already had a safety net for people. That is a 20,000 a year income for those in poverty. We could have supported a one pay health care, yet Capitalism prevented a one payment system.

The people are unable to sort out what is real from propaganda and as such run to grocery stores trade, they bare so their neighbors will be left without.

This is simply the fear at the end, where things could have been secured for everyone, and sadly we see the results.

         Stone and Bones
  Preview of upcoming Novelette 

            Conflicted                 

   I’m Jason Pike. I’ll try not to be rude; it could still happen.    I’m proud to be an Irishman, a member of the clan, Pike. My mother named me Jason; she was counting on Jacqueline, until the last moment, convinced I’d be a girl.  She later did the right thing gave me Pa’s name, Patrick. I am also called Jason Patrick, just JP.

   My mother hates me.

She told me so then went on how  I throw shit Pa gives me,  hurl her way.  I told her, “Ma, you make me nuts, you’re fuckin with my brain.”

I don’t hold the shit inside the way some kids do. I let her have as good as she gives. She walks out and later in the day deadbolts the house. I come back from school, get nothing to eat, and sleep in the hay barn.

   She divorced Pa, a month ago, after sixteen years of unhappy. Pa still works on the farm. Ma never loved him, same as him for her, just got caught with a baby. They were kids.   I suppose she has had a dry spell of sex for more than sixteen years?  Jenny is thirty-five, her wild seeds growing. Catholic upbringing compels her to celebrate,  finally guides her to a Priest’s afternoon delights.  It's like communion, I suppose.

   I am thinking she is fucking with Father Como. He is one of the men with white collars who ain’t gay. I know a few that are.

   How do I know Ma is a lover of Father Como?  I caught them.  Last Wednesday, she didn’t remember the inside deadbolt,  she usually does. I use my emergency key, come home after school as usual. She underestimates me, I’m fifteen,  I know what sex is. I ain’t religious,  I do know this whole thing is wrong.

    A strange car at the barn?  Reverend Como’s black Lincoln, sloppily parked. The Father is keen on showy.    He is a traveling salesman.

   Everybody loves wealth lavish lifestyle,   take what they want, do as they please.  The Father's  Church mobile, it’s a  Lincoln, needs a scrubbing;  got a “wash me”  smiley face sprawled center rearview.

   My mother might be mad locks herself in the house.      She forgets; I have my key.  I hear them upstairs, her bedroom sniggering?  That’s not a prayer meeting.

   Thuds interspersed with sighs,  Ma forgot it was three, I arrive home from school, change clothes, head for the cowshed, help Patrick and Cyrus with evening milking.
  I am about to kill them if something doesn't end their laughing. 
 Ma hears me and pretends she is having a prayer meeting with Como. She says my stale Mc Dees gravy biscuit is in the frig and she can't get away right now to fix me my supper.

   

                                                          Chapter 1

                                   Saved from Hell

I can’t hear you; I decided to kill myself. I got the noose and a step ladder. I don’t know where I’ll do it yet. That could be the hay barn. They won’t look there, maybe not for a week or two after they see I’m missing in action. You can’t stop me; I’ve thought it through.

Ma, says, she was sorry I was born, wants to get another chance. Pa, Patrick, will miss me. I know he loves me.  There ain’t no God anyway, and it is just black out, gone, over, never again.

 Hopeless, Zane, my only friend, says he is too. Sometimes, I think he is more desperate. Pipe’s Ma drinks too much never go outside. They live in a rusty tin can with windows, upon Fisherman’s Ridge.

 I’ll bet you get worried; I write this in my journal. My teacher would, and I won’t show her.  The good news, I was saved by something on a Friday, just before Easter Sunday. It happened in Mister Crain’s science class. We call him the Big Bird, and Zane calls him Bird Man of Alcatraz. We just got done reading a book about jailbreaks, jailbirds, who escape.  I know I’d like to avoid somewhere. The darker, the better. That’s crazy shit, a kid like me has every damn thing to live for?

 I have to get over the school, always picked last.  I’m the final one called to get on the team. I am what they call a kid by default.

I know I’m damn decent with drums.  Insane Zane is excellent with his fuzzy mind and guitar. We could be a rock band, and I keep hoping Zane can get us a gig.  The first school understood both of us,  throw away kids, probably going to lead good ones astray.             

Here are no coincidences; it’s called fate. I am struggling in waves. Now, if fate would allow me a noose and a step ladder, I know that would bring peace.  No need to resist; you have no control, never did. It’s an illusion, Houdini showed that and he said to believe.

That’s what my Grandma Pike did, and it killed her. She just miscalculated, didn’t realize Houdini performed all his tricks; none were miracles.  There is a story here, and I may get to it. She was too optimistic. The Lord would bring her to safety, prove she was special.

They found her eyeballs, near where they located her glasses. This horrible secret told me by Cyrus Perce, our hired man.

I called Cyrus, Cork Screw, and the old bugger loves that moniker.

 Pa branded Cyrus, Mister Cowboy. The problem with Cork, you never knew where fact and make-believe separated.

I wondered about him. He was a slender build, balding white locks, long in the back. The crown of his head disclosed a birthmark. Perhaps it was a war wound or a self-inflicted injury. The appearance was that of a spiral, a snake, maybe the wedding of a spider as well.

Cork, called that since he was a true born, on the Isle of the Lepricon, in the county of Cork.  His father, John, had come to Vermont to investigate his great-great-grandfather, who immigrated before the American Civil War. He brought with wife Mary and young son John. It said the family O’Neill, had a monument up in East Middlebury.

When Cyrus joined the U.S. Army, that gave him the heads up of the list to become a citizen. In the mid-nineteen fifties, he was sworn in. He served in Europe, in Germany, he saw walking dead. These were people Nazis killed, murdered, and nobody paid.

He spoke little about his army experience, if he slew anybody, I didn’t know. He was close to his mother, who passed away one night as she was making strawberry shortcakes,

Can it get anymore into the Twlight Zone ?

   As we all know, human minds are the most unique and complex species we have yet found in the Universe. Only we can think is this real or a computer game or is this infinite or can I put a number to it. These are difficult times and people are not sure if the World will come back together after the mega death virus. They look to government that knows no better than they do and often simply does what it knows best, protects it's own ass in ways so asinine  we question, could they be joking.

   We are told now, stay home, stay out of the sun, don't go shopping without a bandit mask.

Black men are wondering if they did that, would they get shot by the police? This is the country of fools and syncophant lackeys, we tolerate in media and government. They are really just covering their ass.

   Will you stay at home and wear a mask even when in the woods hiking?

We can only put ourselves in a holding pattern, I just heard South Carolina is banning all outdoor buring because it could irritate those ill with the Virus 19. What next, will male circumcisions',   be said a sure way to prevent infections?