Hi. I'm a Comic

Hi, I'm a Comic

[Dedicated to Robert Lopez and his talented and funny wife. Compassionate? Hmmm... I would hope so. Special mention to the inspiration of Matt Parker and Tre Stone. Men of vision and grandeur, humanitarians of great possibility for the world.]

The following is not exactly prose, but more poetical, and even musically pitched. Please sing along to one of the many tunes in your head.

Hi. I'm a comic.

Hello! I'm American! I'm wealthy! And somewhat spoiled.

I like music, and theatre, and making fun of things-- er, people.

With music, it's so funny and cute. 

To show how things should be lampooned to arrive at our greater epiphanies, modern theophanies.

Like how the West realized that the Thai people, the Siamese of yore, who were offended by the  

King and I;

these third world grovelers found that seminal work disrespectful and taboo: even blasphemous!

Nevertheless, Rodgers and Hammerstein knew better: 

Slavery and polygamy were not laughing issues, and the king (a king!) learned his lessons till it 

broke his heart.  

Bravo!

It was drama-- in the end, not funny.

Great theatre, great pathos, not to laugh at --Western people not so funny.

Ha! Ha!

BUT, come 21st century, decades beyond the backward, stilted,

 

repressive 1950s (so conservative and traditional)

Humanity is more progressive and aware : ha ha ha, organized faiths!

This is humorous! This is the subject of satire in the post modern age.

Particularly Latter-day Saints, derisively known as Mormons, in sum: your ideas and practices are 

foolish. Balderdash. Hogwash. Hooey. Laugh we must at its simplistic unfounded tomfoolery.

Sad misguided ones, for sure. Mormons. With a Book, a third testament of divinity.

Not to mention the poor, the dirty, the lost Africans. Are they really Ugandan? Is their language 

really Luganda? Or Cholo?  What culturally sensitive and profoundly educational lessons contained 

therein, within the bounds of the gilded stage...

Both sides-- white and black if you will---are mock worthy, there's no question of that.

Hi! I'm a comic! I make fun of what I see.

I see believers. I see poverty! I see the muddled masses

who live these accursed courses. 

There must be something there to explore. 

And make jest. 

It's how we can approach understanding, after all. Present it on the stage, like Annie or

I have never lived with them or lived like them, but I make light of them.

The whimsically sickening Three Stooges and masterful Charlie Chaplin lampooned the terribly evil 

Fuhrer, why not us now?  

Let us roast the tyrants of our age! The autocrats of the current century.

To these stoogish Mormons. They call their youth "elders". What buffoonery!

Stable Americans, who go to lands of woe, for two years at a time.

Or more.

Like the Peace Corps suffragettes. Only wishy washier! Sallow minded saps!

Oh, no, the American, tres western artiste has more high minded tastes and fancies than these low 

living mongrels of mindlessness. 

These Mormons and the Ugandans are the shallow ones, certainly.

Does not the comic genius belie that message in every song and note?

Simplicity of thought, such simpletons, these caricatures of existence.

So funny, ha ha ha!

I have never lived with people who go to bed hungry.

I have never spent hours with families with children that have a cleft pallet or split lip and it is not 

fixable at birth.

I don't know the communities who only drink dirty water, who regularly suffer from diarrhea and 

other common "poor" health issues.

But hey! I'm a comic! I joke to make things seem okay

Or not. 

Really we are solving the issues by mocking these folks! Right?

The sophisticated mind and audience knows the difference, this is not prejudice or bigotry.

Right? Ethnic biases were so last century.

We are better than that. 

We as artists go lower to achieve the higher aims! Yes!

So lest we forget:

Down with piety! Up with vulgarity!

Down with accuracy! Up with exagerativity! Hyperbole!

Fanciful theatricity!

Bravo, o thou stage!

No, these themes and causes that we mock are not okay.

So I write, I compose

I order my musical lines in order to battle the ignorance and naivete.

Oh, those silly missionaries, with their fantastic dreams and sermons!

"They know not what they do", to quote a source.

(A dubious one who lived long before now.)

And now, the present, is what counts. Right? We know all now. 

We know so much more than even 5 years ago... Let alone 100.

Alas, those silly missionaries with their tired and boring message!

The people suffer long, they look for hope in such odd places, such impractical avenues of alleged 

redemption  and glory... 

a fool's errand, so we make fun of this phenomenon, this spectacle...

Fantastic tales of people and heavenly beings in ancient days!

From other lands!

HA HA HA HA HA HA HA !

Hello, I'm a comic. 

And a playwright.

And composer. 

Do not forget, I am an award winner, the best of the best.

More clever than most all the rest.

I am funny! And creative! Innovative! Oh, so witty!

And so jestful, mocking people.

Tee hee hee.

Not like the Sound of Music, escaping Germans.

Not as the venerable Les Miserables, evading oppression or sin.

Not like Shakespeare, questioning everything.

Not as great as Fiddler on the Roof, revering (yet spoofing) tradition and change.

Not to mention the treatment of the Jewish. Jews! 

Worthy of scorn, this queer religious minority...

This hiss and byword, these peculiar people with their books and commandments and non-secular 

ways... 

But, at least misinterpreting beliefs, printed and spoken, are par for the play.

There is a consistent inconsistence in the work of the lampoon.

The opening lines of the opening song has misrepresentations and twisted facts.

(Yes, that's you Robert Lopez!)

But that makes it funnier! Ha ha! Hilarious!

The inaccuracies portrayed only augment the utter preposterousness--

Bravo! Hurrah! Celebrate the art!

The love! The aplomb! The fame!

Why, hello, yes!!!

I'm a comic.

I spread the truth and lies, and wistful humanity to the world!

Pay your fees! 

Celebrate the light! 

Go home content and jovial, with a stomach full of pabulum. 

A heart is content with such wisdom and pure filth.

Vulgarity ! Hilarity! 

Crudity! Erudity!

Because this comical truth has set us all free.

And yes, I'm still a comic.

The joke might be on me.

This joke might be on me.

Let the people choose and be free.

Based on jocularity.

No more laughter I hear through the strain of tear and fear.

Sorrow and horror no more, 

because I am a comic. 

I pronounce my verdicts with smiles

I settle scores.

Writers Proliferate

Britain has produced many great writers, arguably.

Lately I have read W. Somerset Maugham and it has been enjoyable.

George Orwell is maybe my favorite, but perhaps has not influenced me more than C.S. Lewis, or even J.R.R. Tolkien.

There are many others in other countries.

Our United States. Canada. Mexico.

France. Russia. Brazil. Mexico.

Nigeria. Egypt. China. Japan. India,

Germany. Norway. Italy. Spain.

Chile. Argentina. Peru. Colombia.

And that's just to start...

Proud of my Hoosiers in Black History Month

Proud of my Hoosiers in Black History Month

The United States has had a history of race and racial problems. February 2018

To many people the above assertion might be a "no duh" obvious declaration, or simply an understatement, or even a gross offense to slight such huge abuses over time.

However, in the history of the United States, the rays of sunshine of improvement include that we as Americans often recognize our problems and ills; we seek to shine light on past offenses, abuses, injustice; we Americans try to properly address them and rectify them.

In that cause and spirit there has been the government and social initiative to celebrate and recognize Black History Month throughout the United States.

I am not sure why February is the ordained month; it is the shortest month in the year. Some could take offense to that, I can see the irony. Sure, give a facetious nod to the historically disenfranchised, providing them the shortest, possibly coldest shrift of a month possible. Knock it out early in the year, and then forget about the peoples that have been trodden upon and forgotten about since the inception of the nation in the 1700s.

That is a cynical way of looking at it.

I do not think it is a bad month, nor do I view it cynically. I happen to see February as somewhat appropriate for Black History Month for a couple reasons, one of them being about sports. The other one is about Presidents. Both the head executives of the land and sporting history have a place with the American people writ large, and particularly with the African-Americans who make up such a vital part of our shared history.

Sports-wise, February usually has the Super Bowl the first weekend, which tends to feature a large proportion of African-American athletes. This helps much of those individuals on the teams, those that are predominantly black, and therefore celebrated for their achievements and merits in the physical arena. They get more attention and glory. And money. Hopefully their respective communities benefit from the consequent success, they can help develop the limelight and resources for further growth in the groups and the communities where they hail from. Ideally, this is progress.

And yet, like a shortened month, or starting the American experience largely as slaves on a continent not of their choice, perhaps the trickle down effect by professional football is not really big enough.

Enter college basketball, and also it's bigger more lucrative brother, professional basketball. 

Both realms are dominated by African-American athletes. And unlike American football, the threat of disabling injuries is considerably less, which is a substantial positive for all people, but most certainly the people of the black community who succeed so much in this sport.

Professional or no, thousands of African-American basketball players, team supporters, coaches, and managers are benefited by the game.

I am from the state of Indiana where the sport basketball and its history are somewhat revered. It becomes more beautiful in the light of men and women of all races sharing the same stage, being celebrated for their merits rather than their skin color, or their educational background, or their parents or families' work or money that put them in a position to achieve and move up in their socio-economic status.

But Indiana is not unique in its celebration of the sport of basketball. You see it from Hawai'i to Alaska to Texas and Florida and Vermont. Even into much of Canada. All over North America, the kids use this sport as a vehicle for recreation, but then scholarships and advancement.

Communities large and small, in every state and perhaps most provinces, get behind and cheer on their teams and players, a disproportionate number of whom are black. The student athletes receive education and a chance to get ahead, no matter if their future is on or by the basketball court itself.

Academic opportunities are afforded to many first generation students. Thousands of these students are able to leave their former neighborhoods of downturn and possibly move on to a more successful environment, or even go back with the educational and professional tools that they were empowered with and make a difference.

It can start small, but it starts.

For example, a young African-African from a poor area of Chesapeake, Virginia does not go to worldwide fame and fortune like Allen Iverson, but he or she receives a scholarship in South Dakota or Idaho, a place where traditionally there are not many black people. But he or she is valued, regardless of background or race, and that student then has the choice to move forward based on those advantages provided.

It's not the lottery, nor is it the NBA millions or even the international big money that comes with playing on the court that brought the original scholarship opportunity. But perhaps it is something more: the formerly underprivileged individual (this applies to black, white, brown, Native-American, irrespective of race or ethnicity), now can see himself or herself in larger context, and future bosses and companies see them as the same.

Part of a winning, hardworking team.

Part of the American dream. Where hard work and team work translate to success.

That is the dream. Freedom and opportunity lead to success and prosperity.

And it can start in athletics. Moving. Learning. Cooperating. 

Celebrating.

IU beat Iowa yesterday in hard fought battle in snowy Iowa City ( I watched it I pay extra money per month to see such games). Thousands, if not millions, of Iowans and Hoosiers.

The Indiana women's basketball team beat Nebraska in Bloomington, too.

We love these student athletes, regardless of their ethnic backgrounds. They are part of a bigger, more idealistic community. 

They interweave themselves as part of who we are as people: not black, not white, not brown.

People who come together and work on high arching goals. Together.

One team. Win or lose, all out effort.

Thanks Indiana University for giving us that.

Thanks to sports, for uniting us.

Thanks to the United States, for setting up places, and months, and ways, for all of us to succeed.

Eventually we will make it there.

The Xs and Os and balls and teams fade to the background, and it becomes who are:

A nation motivated by effort, work, and prosperity.

A land for freedom, opportunity, and joy. For all.



 

Don't Be Lonely

Don't Be Lonely!

You've got a lot.

You have family.

And when not, you have friends.

And when you have no friends that actually speak or text or write you, you have books.

These authors are your friends. Mostly.

There is a world of them.

You cannot be lonely!

They are waiting to talk to you.

They are. Really!

Like me.

And of course, for us believers: there are the Fathers above. And mothers.

Do not be afraid, they have not left you alone.

We Seek Each Other

We Seek Each Other

  A Valentine's Poem

For years I sought someone

Wars came and went

Stocks rose and plunged

Jobs were here and there

Books and periodicals informed

-- And I looked, and I saw, and my heart was pulled but my eyes did not rest.

Technology advanced

Computers were shared

An Internet flourished

There were more ways to meet the people we sought

I continued to seek after a suitable person

To share my life and dreams

I  moved from here to there

I tried to stay social, to stay clean, to be alert,

to be active, so that I would not miss who I sought

--in my thoughts, my prayers

Meanwhile,  she was also about, to and fro

She moved and met and looked and even smelled, yes, sniffed for that one...

It took some time, a drive across the deserts for me, trekking across country for her:

Cities, suburbs, camp outs, rivers, lakes, seas and mountains, cabins and dance halls

One night we saw each other

I spoke to my mother twenty-four hundred miles away, soon after

I told her I met someone, albeit briefly

But we met again, and again, and again

We sought each other

Now eighteen years later, we still do

Sometimes she seeks me, or I her

But we still, always seek each other out

"How are you?" 

"Not bad. You?"

She is who I sought since youth

Since then, since I can remember

She is the someone whom I seek

in my dreams

And lucky me-- I find her!

 

Geopolitics get Messy in 2018

US Airstrike kills Russians.

The Russians were contractors, "mercenaries".

They were embedded with pro Bashar Al-Assad Alawite Syrian forces on western Syria, where recent ISIS/Daesh forces have been routed.

Turks are concerned with the Kurds, Iranis and Israelis are scuttling and shooting down aircraft over Syria.

It's messy.