Fighting Off the Big, Dark, Monster - Spooky Tales and Thoughts and Premonitions

    It is October, baseball is going on. The playoffs and cool nights under the klieg-type lights. My Sox are still going. They are a bridge to my childhood. Topic for another post.

    But we have some scary thoughts this month, as we can in any month. Ghouls and goblins, phantoms and ghosts. Even real life killers and thrillers.

    Here's a possible scary one: what if each of us, or at least some of us, have some mental cloud or depression or awful demon (metaphorically or symbolically) that is being kept at bay? And it is simply waiting us out?

    My mom suffered from depression some times. At times kind of severely. I have known others who have battled deep, dark, stretches of the mind and soul. Not an easy thing.

    Maybe those things are welled up inside somewhere, waiting like a monster.

    Like Moby Dick chasing down Ahab, only Ahab thinks that he is the one to get the whale.

    Who is chasing who? Or whom is being chased?

    How deep and how far in the marvelous yet terrifying depths do the monsters lurk?

    Spooky thoughts for a cool and dark October evening.

    Happy Hallow's Eve.

    All month long. Or maybe all our lives.

    Love you, mom. The guy who used you against me in an interview for the government is the bad guy, not me and you.

    We are the good ones. Above the foam and the fray.

 

 It is Hard to be Mainstream because We Are not Mainstream - A Peculiar People

    My senior year of high school I tried... No, I was a junior in my honors English class. I tried to write up, mostly on my home computer, what or how or something about being a member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. A Latter-day Saint. My kind or brand of Christian. A Mormon.

    I struggled. I thought. I though hard, but distanced myyself. I procrastinated. I had a few flashes of brilliance, or at least ideas. The end result was not great. I wanted to make it great. I came up short. I needed help from others, most likely. More close friends or people who got me, or would help.

    Story of my life, perhaps.

    No chances to blog back then.

    At the age of 48 I was having a debate with some co-workers in the middle of nowhere, Louisiana if being of my religious faith was to be a minority. No, they said. Not a minority. However, part of me countered that statement. We are a minority. A religious minority, for sure, but not an ethnic one. There are differing types of minorities.

    Racial minorities. Linguistic minorities. Socio-economic minorities. Cultural minorities. Females in the military, is a minority.

    We Latter-day Saints are a combination of minorities. Religious, cultural, ethnic in a way. 

    We are not mainstream, though we want to be in most ways. But our rules and lifestyle precludes us in many ways.

    We want to be in the world but not of it. Not worldly.

    We wish to be a peculiar people, and a light on the hill, as the the Bible has prophesied.

    Like the Jewish, we wish to fulfill God's will and truths and be His people.

    That is the way it is, and how we strive to be.

I Had Some Really Good Ideas for Writing Some Posts

    I had them in my head a few hours ago, or less. But I came home, took a nap, and now I am struggling to remember. It had to do with places lived, or lives lived.

    One was about "Visiting Russia in the 1980s" ! Yes, I can remember that. What else? Visiting Russia...

    How about the one time champs of my my schools?

    Hmmm... Presidential elections or persons?

    Okay, let's go with Russia.

    But, yes! "Visiting Africa" (Eggypt and stuff like that.)

Bill Garret, Oscar Robertson, and 365 Plus Schools of Basketball Opportunities

Bill Garrett, Oscar Robertson, and 365 Plus Schools of Basketball Opportunities

    It has come to more recent attention to me that Bill Garrett was the Jackie Robinson of Indiana. More specifically, Indiana Univiersity. No coincidence, likely, it was a year after Jackie joined the Dodgers. back in the days of Brooklyn.

    The story goes that big, tall, skillful Bill Garrett, the best player in the state of Indiana coming from the ever popular high school level, was desired to play the game at the college level. Enter the dilemma. Indiana, which was a member of the Big Ten Conference, did not allow Black/African-American players in their league. IU wanted the best team, not some artificial construct of sport based on race. Or, rather, based on skin color. We are one human rice. Science proved it, over the fascist killers of Germany or elsewhere, killing a couple hundred thousand G.I.s a short time before.

    

    Garrett played for IU. Indiana broke the rules. Hurrah. Let's here it for fair play and meritocracy. Jesse Owens proved that in Berlin in 1936. Hello.

    While he did not lead them to a championship at the national level his immediate successors did in 1953. Maybe Garrett helped them get their NCAA ultimate victory during his tenure of play in Bloomington? I would think so.

    Oscar Robertson graduated from Indianapolis Crispus Attacks in the late 1950s. Apparently IU was too racist in those years under those coaches and environments, so he chose Cincinnati across the state border. Lucky Bearcats. Oscar was the best of his generation.

    These are gifted and talented Black men. Part of our shared history, glory, and joy.

    In 2026 we celebrate fetes and games in basketball more and more. 365 Division I schools, places of academic and professional training and potential, sponsor that many teams, giving thousands of Black, white, and all manner of backgrounds a chance to play, learn, matriculate, and succeed.

    Nothing is perfect, but even the smallest schools provide more opportunities to win, succeed, soar, and grow. Succeed on all levels. 

    This goes for women of all backgrounds. 

    This is good.

    We love and cherish basketball for all reasons. The pure thrill of the competition, the money generated, the spectacle and unity offered, the communities built and expaned.

    The schooling, as Bobby Knight would emphasize.

    Opportunity meets effort.

    It may be beside or on a hardwood court, but the nets and hoops and backboards give way to the worlds of hope and prosperity.

    From the 1940s till now, and long into the future. For Turks, Slovenians, Chinese, and on.

    Which school did your player attend?

It Gets Worse and Uglier: We Americans Have Helped the Jihadi Terrorists Kill the Victims

    How do we unaware Americans contribute to letting victims of terrorism suffer and die? Not too complicated. Yet opaque to many of us erstwhile hopeful citizens of our fine country.

    First of all, we do fight jihadi and other terrorists worldwide. We are the good guys in this sense, overall. Sometimes we mess up and torture, or bomb the wrong locales. Like a school full of girls. Accidents honestly and sadly do happen. We make mistakes. Torture and improper detentions and imprisonments. Errorful reports and actions can victimize the wrong folks. It happens all the time. But most of the U.S. military and law enforcement mean well. I truly beleive that. I believe in us, since 1776 and before. But we can be ridiculously bad and inept, or even bloodthirsty at times. Beyond mistake prone, hurting our enemies and ourselves, we can do some purposeful mayhem and debauchery. We need to improve, do better.

    Some men women were captured by Boko Haram terrorists in 2022. The women were raped and contracted HIV. The men, their lawful husbands, unknowingly got the virus and some died of AIDS. Some of these poor women, already bereft a spouse, then had to fight HIV and AIDS. They needed medicine, like Magic Johnson received since his shocking diagnosis in 1991 and did well ever since. He's wealthy. So are most U.S. citizens in comparison to most Nigerians.

    But, in 2025, a few people on our side of the planet decided to cut off the medicines and clinics to people in Borno State of Nigeria and dozens of other African countries.

    People got sicker and died right away. Hard to count the numbers.

    Some of the women raped and infected in 2022 got sick and died.

    Not our fault that they got sick in the first place, but...

    Donald Trump and Elon Musk have nothing to do with their deaths?

    Who is the terrorist? Certainly Boko Haram, in the name of Allah and their extremist and awful jihadi ideology and actions.

    Who else is terrorizing and killing the victims?

    Tell me, please.

    Physicians, heal thyselves.

    Jesus cannot be in this. 

    Are we Christians? Humans? Caretakers? Protectors.

    Look again, my fellow citizens. I have a slew of mirrors.

    Please keep looking.

    Accept how ugly we can be.

Thanks, Clarity. Bullies are Insecure: They Hurt and/or Kill Others from their Hubris

    This blog post should make sense. Let me know if you have trouble believing or understanding what I am going to explain.

    Nicole Simpson, the abused then murdered ex-wife of Orenthal Simpson, aka The Juice, was beaten lengthily and persistently for a long time until she was brutally butchered by the father of her children. A famous, and quite successful fellow. Problem was, he was a bully, a tyrant, a coward, and full of himself to pyschotic degrees. Much like the current commander-in-chief, Donald J. Trump.

    One beat and killed with his hands and fists and brute strength, and eventually a knife; the second kills with his callous sense of humanity and mendacious self-aggrandrizing and idiocy. Is he racist? No. I do not think so. He simply does not value human life that much. Was O.J. racist? I do not think so. A maniacal abuser and killer? Yep. 

    Sadly, a two time president has killed (and abused) a lot more innocent victims than the former Buffalo Bill great. That could be reason for impeachment, in my opinion. Turn off the medicines to thousands and it makes you a killer. If at all avoidable, we do not let any innocent people suffer and die. I mean to speak of true blue Americans that realize that we should help people live, even at a cost or sacrifice to our time or pocketbooks.

    This is America. Home of the brave, free, and magnanimously generous. We preserve and save others, we do not igorantly or purposefully let them die.

    Come to find out or more fully realize decades later, OJ would basically torture his wife many, many times. Did he hate white people? Women? I do not think so. Did he hate himself? Probably. Some self-loathers hide their insecurities and hatred pretty well. They prance, they preen, they brag, they gas light, they puff themselves up, they narcissustically fancy themselves the victim.

    Sound about right? OJ? Your ghost? Donald? Your huge ego? Both will reckon with God, as we all will. Sure, I am casting a few heavy stones here. I am not past my own faults. But I am not a bully. I am secure and brave enough to call out bullies and cowards and killers as they are.

    Simpson. You were awful. 

    Donald. How can you look at yourself as a grand or great American leader? You are fired, sir.

    Which U.S. president was responsible for the most deaths of the sick and dying in Africa? Perhaps 15 countries, likely more. Blame Elon Musk for his lack of humanity or knowledge of how clinics and life-saving medicine and treatment works? Not good enough.

    No. Our twice elected leader cut off the aid to hundreds of thousands, perhaps millions of desperate and underprivileged sick and needy. More or less overnight. No planning, no forethought. Maybe even less afterthought.

    That is why guys like me are around. We count the losses, the gains. We analyze. And we do not shut our eyes or turn off our brains or memories.

    Once a killer, I think you are always a killer. Truth.

    What are some names of those who died? I can find out.

    On September 11, we memorialize or commemorate the names of the poor souls vanquished on that awful day in 2001. I was thirty years old with a small baby. OJ was maybe locked up, with his two kids pushing adulthood. Donald was in his 50s, on his second or third wife, with his collection of kids, some adults, maybe. Others can do the math.

    Here is my math. OJ killed two. Nicole, and ill fated Ron Goldman.

    Donald (via Elon and the DOGE)? Some say 700,000. Was that the first year after his second inauguration? We have people dying right this second in 2026 because of lack of previous clinics, some of Ebola that might have been combatted otherwise...

    Okay. Pause for now. Do I have holes in my argument?

    Please tell me. Let me know where I am wrong.

    Killers are bullies, and bullies are insecure. How can they not hate themselves? Unless the psychosis is complete.

    Good night and good day, America. I will strive to protect us all: the weak, the lame, the poor, the sick. All of us.

    Lady Liberty is so much more a New Yorker than Trump, whose name gets more revolting the more that I think about it. Mudd seems innocently bland to me now.

    My parents were inspired by a former U.S. president (who was rich AND served heroically in the military and war) and went to Africa, Sierra Leone and Togo, to save lives. Ove. r two years of their lives to help the needy. Those with less. Losers? My folks or their patients and clients? Hardly. Heroes.

    Whom do I admire and acknowledge as champions and saviors and protectors?

    Thank God for the real heroes.

    Love you. 

Things I Am Not Good At. The List Lengthens. With Age, Perspective, Experience

    This afternoon I was thinking about a few of those things that I am not very good at. There is a healthy list, I would say.

    I was invited to a work dance thing. Part of the wellness for the office workers and company. I have had some less than stellar dance experiences lately, perhaps some of them are working on my psyche or my ego, or my pride or self-perception. A few other things.

    I can embarrass myself with some of it; over the last few years it gets a bit worse. I am not as strong, maybe I have lost a step or two or I do not have the rhythm that I thought I might of had.

    There are indicators that I do not have to divulge here. But it might be looks, or laughs, or reactions. From me and others.

    Then there is singing. Whoo, some poor experiences with that here and there. Sometimes being too loud, that is not good. Loud can mean bad. I had a few moments here and there that likely did not turn out well. In the Caribbean, the Middle East. International less-than-great performances. Maybe at that French  karaoke. Or that night in California...

    What else? Writing. That can be a dangerous downward slope. There are indicators. I do not need to list them here. I could be, or would be, more driven. More wanted. More enjoyed. Just more organized or prolific.

    What else? Cooking. Not me, really. 

    Gardening. Mowing. Home upkeep. I am not that domestic, or pushed to work the home front. I do help in a few ways. Not great. I am not that good at it.

    Making money. Nah, not that great.

    Working out. Nope. It is hard to do all that. Perhaps age and pains have something to do with it.

    Work in general. Perhaps too lazy.

    Exressing better things. Case in point: what I write right now. Not better, huh?

    Sometimes I am not that great at expressing better things.

    Asking better questions.

    Caring more.

    Staving off the apathy, or laziness. Sloth. Flojitis.

    Eating right. Avoiding the fatties or the sweets.

    Drinking correctly. More water? Healthy beverages?

    Memorizing things.

    Yeah, verbatim stuff and me do not get along. With age likely worse.

    Keeping cool all the time when driving. I lose my patience enough.

    I commit driving errors.

    Okay.

    Enough for now.

    There is more for later.

    Getting emotional, sad, and crying too much? Not always at the same time, but still.

    You get it.

    Okay, there.

    Blog that, Fox Sports folks, you 2006 to 2009 blog killers...

    I hold grudges over time!!!

    Yet another.