Roots of Evil

The recent attacks in Paris have triggered the usual expressions of sympathy which inevitably give way to calls for visiting great harm upon those who perpetrate these acts.

The sympathetic responses are, for the most part, sincere yet tempered by the calls for vengeance. In any case, they miss the point.

In the west, with its predominantly Judeo-Christian population, the inevitable attributing of the blame on Islam ensues. There are voices within these faiths that call for peace, but a significant number of the Christian faithful would gladly pull the trigger on a Muslim target, given the opportunity, simply because it is a Muslim target. Yet are shocked and quick to condemn similar behavior on the part of some Muslims.

These attacks, if they are promulgated on an interpretation of the Quran which mandates the elimination of the “Kafir”, or unbelievers, underscore the inherent dangers of religion.

Christianity is not wholly innocent in these matters. They had their Crusades. The difference being at some point the enlightenment took place. Relegating religion to a personal matter; slowly eliminating any dominant religious influence so as to have no place in government.

It took centuries for that to happen, yet I fear we still are plagued with the last vestiges of such influences.

I do not understand the rationale of those that insist on a Judeo-Christian based government here, yet fear a similar religious, albeit Islamic, based government somewhere else. The idea of government, with its inherent ability to impose restrictions on behavior, being based on any religious tenets is frightening.

What would our reaction be to a nuclear armed Islamic state? Abject terror, I have no doubt. Why? Because we fear they would use such power to further their cause.

Isn’t that what some “Christians” among us have urged our government to do?

Either way, it is not good for the world.

Those who call for visiting violence on others by virtue of their beliefs miss the contradiction in such an attitude.

Religion is not the problem or the cause of the problem. It is a tool. Used by some to maintain control. If all religion was taken out of the picture, these things would still happen; with some other motivation to spark them. The conditions are the same, the terms would be different.

Those that deny free and open discourse for all people do so to promote the power of one religion to control their people.  A religion they choose.

The west, through the availability of education (although less and less valued it would seem), has learned to mitigate the influence of religion to control the masses through the power of government.

It is an indisputable fact that the higher the educational level, the less religiosity.

I am not advocating the abolition of religion. I know many sincere believers who temper their faith with reason when it comes to interpretation of writings such as the Bible, the Talmud, and the Quran. I am advocating the application of reason to our response to violence in the name of religion.

Imposing the superiority of one religion over another does not solve the problem, it prolongs it.

If we are unwilling to address the underlying causes of the problem, i.e. poverty, unemployment, lack of education, treatment of women as property, we will forever be combatting the symptoms.

Our acquiescence to the conduct of our allies, such as Saudi Arabia and Israel (heresy I know, however because they are more aligned with the Judeo part does not make them blameless in their denial of civil rights), is a big part of the problem.

The issues here are not as simple as some politicians would have you believe. We do not own the morally superior ground here. These are complex issues, requiring complex solutions which will never happen if we ignore the reality.

It is not the correctness of any one religion that offers a solution, it is the willingness to accept all faiths as entitled to equal treatment.

Faith is not fact. Hold your faith as you see fit, do not deny others the same. If there is such a thing as one true faith, but you were led down the wrong path by parents or guardians or accident of birth, I think an all-powerful god can figure out the quality of your character without resorting to totaling up how many non-believers you tried to kill.

Those who committed these attacks, those who committed the attacks on 9/11, those who insist on imposing their way of life on others are the problem.

I am not naive. These attacks need to be met with sufficient force to stop them. However, the threat or application of force is not the solution to preventing them.

Open access to freedom of expression, freedom of religion, and freedom from religion is the only solution.

Changing someone’s faith, or eradicating such beliefs, cannot be accomplished  with bombs and missiles.

It can only be solved by tolerance, understanding, a willingness to listen

Dilemma

This is from a series of short stories I am working on. Posted here for your reading pleasure and review.  All comments welcome.

My cell rang. I didn’t recognize the number. Thought about ignoring it, then decided to give the telemarketer some shit.

“Hello.”

“Tommy, AJ.”

“AJ? What’s this a new phone?”

“I need your help.” AJ’s tone imparted a more serious patina to the four simple words.

“You always need my help,” I answered. “What is it this time, you get thrown out again?”

“Come outside, I’m parked in the lot across the street.

“Why are you parked across the street?” I asked. Silence. After a moment, I realized he’d ended the call.

Grabbing my jacket, I walked to the door. “Where are you off to?” my wife asked.

“I don’t know. That was AJ, said he needs help with something.”

My wife put her hands on her hips, “Tommy, I don’t care what he’s done this time, no money. Promise me.”

I smiled, “No money, I learned my lesson with his last scam,” I opened the door, the cool fall air rushing in. “I’ll be right back.”

Walking down the driveway, I looked across the street. AJ was leaning against the hood of his car, arms folded around himself, staring at the ground. As I got closer, he heard my footsteps and stood.

I’ve read that ninety percent of communication is non-verbal. AJ’s body was telling me this was not one of his ordinary, self-created problems.

“Hey man, what’s up?”

“Tom, Tommy,” AJ stuttered, glancing around. “I need help buddy. Big time. Can you take a ride with me?”

I saw something in his eyes I’d never seen before, genuine fear. This was a man who once took on three bikers in a bar and got his ass kicked. He returned two days later looking for the three bikers. The same thing happened. He went back several more times, but the bikers never showed up again.

They must have recognized crazy.

AJ wasn’t afraid of anything.

“A ride, where?”

“Please man, just come with me.” His body language now in full alarm mode.

“Ah, okay. Let me call Karen. Tell her I’ll be gone for a bit. Where we going anyway?”

“No,” AJ shouted, then glanced around. “No calls.”

“No calls?” I replied. “If you want me to go with you I will after I call my wife. A philosophy you should have adopted years ago. Saved yourself a ton of trouble.”

I could see AJ’s mind racing as he paced back and forth. “Okay, tell her I need help moving something, that’s all.”

I stood there a moment, holding my phone, studying my now frantic friend. Shaking my head, I pushed the call button. “Hey, it’s me. AJ needs me to help him move something. What? I don’t know, hang on,” holding the phone away from my ear I said. “She wants to know what you need moved. How long will it take?”

AJ threw his arm up, slapping them back to his side. “I don’t know, something heavy. You’ll be back in, ah, a couple of hours.”

“There’s a bunch of stuff, I guess. Won’t take long,” listening to her response I smiled at AJ. “Yeah I know; I don’t have any money anyway. I’ll call on the way back.” I walked to the passenger side. “Okay AJ, tell me the story. What’d you do?”

“First, turn off your cell.”

“I’m not turning off my cell, asshole. What is this about?”

“Look, trust me on this. You’ll understand shortly,” pointing with his hand at my phone. “Turn it off and pull the battery. Then I’ll tell you what this is about.”

*****

“You what?” I said, shaking my head and looking out the window. “I don’t believe this. You’re kidding,” trying to gauge the look on his face.

“I’ll show you,” he said as we pulled into a dirt road used by off-road vehicles.

“You can’t drive this thing down here,” I said, my hand on the dash as AJ dodged the ruts and dips in the dirt track.

“Yes I can, I checked this out before.”

“You checked this out… I don’t believe this.”

Checking the rearview mirror, AJ drove several hundred yards. Making sure we were far beyond the houses bordering the property.

“Ready?”

“AJ, please tell me this is all bullshit.”

“Look,” he said, opening the door.

I watched as he walked around to the back of the car, motioning for me to join him

I opened the door, put one foot on the ground, glanced over my right shoulder at AJ as he looked all around the area.

I got out and stood next to him.

“Ready?”

I laughed. “Okay, you got me. What’s the joke?”

I heard the click of the trunk release, watching as it popped up. AJ reached over, opening the trunk.

As I looked in, my mind went into denial.

I looked from the trunk to AJ and back. Voices in my head screamed, ‘Run, you idiot, run.” But my legs remained paralyzed in place. I tried to speak, but my throat was sand. I tasted the adrenaline rushing through my body. The fight or flight response to my brain’s recognizing a problem.

A big problem.

“I had to do it, Tommy. He beat her, put her in the hospital, he molested my granddaughter.”

Words eluded me. I backed away, trying to absorb the reality.

“Tommy, I need you to help me here. I need help getting rid of it.”

For fifty years, AJ had been my best friend. We had grown from GI Joes and baseball to girls and beer to married with kids, together. We’d spent twenty years together as cops, righting wrongs, trying to make a difference.

He’d been there when my first wife died of cancer. He held me in his arms, covered in my blood from the bullet wound in my arm, when they drove me to the hospital.

Never leaving my side.

But this? This was beyond it all. This was too much. I knew the stories. The hospital visits to his daughter. The on again off again boyfriend sliding through the system.

But this? They say friends will be there when you most need them. But this?

As my heart rate slowed, the rationale me resumed control. The panic passed and the realization of the choice I faced came clear.

I knew what I had to do.

I looked at my friend. The tears welled up, the emotions uncontrollable. I took a deep breath and walked back to the car.

“AJ, I’m sorry.” I reached into my pocket and pulled out my phone, walking to the side of the car, away from my best friend.

His eyes showed regret as the enormity of what he asked, what he’d done, set in.

I tossed the phone on the seat. Reaching into the back seat, I grabbed the two shovels and the bag of lime.  I’d spotted them when I got in the car. Hoping I was wrong.

Walking to AJ, I handed him a shovel.

“That’s what friends are for.”

 

 

Another Person of Color Shot and Killed in a Police Involved Situation: Where’s the Outrage?

A person of color was killed the other day. Thirty years old, shot and killed for being the wrong color. The media coverage, non-existent.

The attention span of this country to this problem apparently exhausted.

We are more inclined to Twitter and Text and Facebook and Instagram reactions to a former NBA star’s overdose on cocaine and herbal Viagra while cavorting with hookers then on another senseless police involved death of a person of color.

The silence is deafening.

No White House press conference or immediate dispatch of officials to decry the violence.

No men of the cloth screaming about the injustice of this death.

No cries of publicity hungry hordes with #OnlySomeLivesMatter signs.

Nothing. Just another dead man of color.

Why the absence of outrage, the lack of virulent calls for justice, no demands for severe punishment for the perpetrator?

Because he was the wrong color. Officer Randolph Holt was a person of color in the blue uniform of a NYPD Officer. Shot by a man that a failed and corrupt justice system, controlled by callous Judges and attorneys with influence, put back on the street. A system focused on expediency rather than protecting us from those that would do harm.

A person of color died the other day, and no one gives a damn except his family and those that share the burden of the badge.

It is clear that #SomeLivesMatterMore

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Avoiding the Ugly Circumstance: Sound Advice from Nigeria

“There’s a sucker born every minute…”

This phrase, popularly attributed to P.T Barnum, was most likely spoken by David Hannum, in criticism of both P. T. Barnum and those that patronized Barnum’s shows.

No matter who said it, there is a great deal of truth in it.

I happen to enjoy reading the various scams promulgated on the web. Although, these have been around for as long as mankind.

But I particularly enjoy this one. It is so official sounding, so convincing, so tempting to believe…if you are a total idiot.

Yet, there must be some success to it. It continues to circulate.

JAMES B. COMEY, JR,

EXECUTIVE DIRECTOR FBI.

FEDERAL BUREAU OF INVESTIGATION (FBI), WASHINGTON D.C FEDERAL BUREAU OF INVESTIGATION SEEKING TO WIRETAP INTERNET

 

ATTENTION: BENEFICIARY,

After proper investigations, we, the Federal Bureau of investigation (FBI) discovered that your impending (over-due contract) payment with Central Bank of Nigeria is 100% legal and has been approved for release to you.

We recently had a meeting with the Executive Governor of the Central Bank of Nigeria, in the person of Mr Godwin Emefiele and other top officials of the concerned Ministries regarding your case and we were made to understand that your files have been held in abeyance pending on when you personally apply for the claim.

Investigations also revealed that a lady, by name Mrs. Joan B Melvin from New York has already contacted Central Bank of Nigeria with a power of attorney and some documents, which stipulated that you have mandated her to claim your fund of US$10,000,000.00 (Ten Million United States Dollars) on your behalf due to your ill health.

In view of this, we have been urged to warn US citizens who have received information pertaining to their outstanding contract payment to be very careful and not to be a victim of ugly circumstance.  In case you are already dealing with anybody or office from the Central Bank of Nigeria, you are strictly advised to STOP further communication with them in your best interest and thereby contact the real office of Central Bank of Nigeria via the below information:

NAME: MR. GODWIN EMEFIELE

OFFICE ADDRESS: Central Bank of Nigeria, Central Business District, Cadastral Zone, Abuja, Federal.

Capital Territory, Nigeria.

Email: cenbnkng015@e-nautia.com

NOTE: In your best interest, you should ignore any message that does not come from the above email address and phone number for security reasons. And to enable Central Bank of Nigeria to process and release the fund to you, you are required to re-confirm your full details such as

FULL NAMES: __________________________________

CITY: _________________________

STATE: __________________________________

ZIP: ______________

COUNTRY: ________________________________

SEX: _______________

AGE: __________________

TELEPHONE NUMBER: _____________________

Ensure that you follow the Central Bank of Nigeria due process as enshrined in International Banking Secrecy Act to avoid any form of discrepancy, which may hinder your fund transfer.

Thanks for your understanding and co-operation as we earnestly await your urgent response.

Best Regards,

JAMES B. COMEY, JR

FEDERAL BUREAU OF INVESTIGATION

  1. EDGAR HOOVER BUILDING,

935 PENNSYLVANIA AVENUE,

NW WASHINGTON, D.C

E-MAIL: jjbcomeyjr@aol.com

I mean how can you not resist? They are preventing you being a victim of  “ugly circumstance.”

After all, it is from the FBI and they are, “seeking to wiretap internet”, we all know they are always watching out for us. How can this not be true?

If any of you are tempted to respond to this obviously wonderful opportunity, please follow these steps after you send your information as requested.

  1. Write the words “I am an idiot” on a large piece of cardboard
  2. Stand outside your home holding the sign high for all to see
  3. Say goodbye to all your worldly assets, some scammer in Nigeria thanks you.

Celebrating a Lie

To borrow a line from Paul Simon’s song, Kodachrome;

When I think back on all the crap I learned in high school

It’s a wonder I can think at all…

Although much of the “Lie” I write about began in the first years of my education. Having taken the time to undo and uncover many of these ingrained falsehoods, it is indeed a wonder I can think at all.

In this particular instance, I am talking about Columbus Day and celebrating those things (all false) we were taught about this man and that period of history. To summarize;

  1. Columbus proved the world to be round (False, the fact of the world being round was well established)
  2. Columbus discovered America (False. Not only did he not discover it, he didn’t even know where he was)
  3. Columbus had a fine relationship with the “Indians” (False, he captured many, compelled them through brutal measures to reveal treasures and infected them with European strains of viruses and bacteria that killed them (this last part might be a stretch since they didn’t understand the science of infection but nevertheless this was left out of the “history” books I was compelled to read))

My point here is why do we continue to “celebrate” a man responsible for the devastation and enslavement of many Native Americans (they did not even know they needed to be discovered) and attribute false claims of discovery to his journeys at the expense of the truth.

I think it might be time for this country to start celebrating truth, not patently false fairytales intended to obscure the realities of the atrocities visited upon the true Native Americans.

We need to describe Columbus as he truly was, one of the first in a series of Illegal Aliens invading this land.

Maybe there is something to preventing illegal immigration, albeit some Five Hundred Years too late.

A Whole New Level of Stink

Continue reading

A Kim Davisian America

Let us take the position of Kim Davis, the Rowan County Clerk of Courts, to its logical conclusion. (I wonder if this is a revival of Rowan & Martin’s Laugh-in?)

What would this mean for America, should she be permitted to refuse to perform her civil job function based on personal beliefs?

Imagine the future…

The Police

Dispatch: Unit 21 respond to a reported robbery at 1 Gay Lane.

Unit 21: No can do, gay couple living there in sinful violation of the Holy Book. I cannot in good conscience assist in this abomination

Dispatch: Any available unit of a non-judgmental nature available to assist?

RADIO SILENCE

Unit 21: I think the one gay officer we were forced to hire, against the Chief’s long held beliefs and the Bible, is working tomorrow. I will not assist him in any way and refuse to work alongside him. Have them call back then.

Fire

Dispatch: Engine 1 Ladder 2 respond to a reported fire 1 Rabinowitz lane.

Engine 1: No can do, all Christian crew and that location is a synagogue. They killed Jesus. I think Engine 5 has some Jews aboard, call them

Engine 5: Yes, but we are Orthodox and it is the Sabbath, cannot work today. Tell them to call back.

Restaurant

Hello, my name is Joe and I’ll be your server today. Before I can release our menu to you, please answer the following questions;

  1. Do you support abortion?
  2. Do you believe in same-sex marriage?
  3. Do you support the separation of Church and State?

 If you answer yes to any of these questions, please leave. My beliefs do not allow me to serve you. We don’t cater to heathens.

 I cannot understand why this is such a difficult concept. If a person feels so strongly about their personal beliefs, do not accept a position which requires adherence to civil law.

One cannot refuse to perform a job function because they disagree with the law; to do otherwise would be chaos.

How Davis chooses to hold her beliefs and profess them is of no concern to anyone. We can disagree, mock, or support them. However, no one can demand or impose his or her personal religious beliefs on anyone else through a position held under civil authority. (No matter how much she credits Jesus for blessing her election.)

If she wants to deny marriage licenses to same-sex couples, go work for a religious organization. Plenty support her nonsensical beliefs and hypocrisy.

She is just another nut-case cherry-picking Bible quotes to suit her current beliefs and expecting the Government to support them.

We have already devoted too much time to her. She is in jail; the law has prevailed. Time to move on.

Unless we are smoted (if that is a word) and the world does end at the hands of the offended divine (but loving) god of the book she fervently holds dear.

Meanwhile, let us hope she is enjoying her martyrdom. Perhaps she will be out in time to celebrate the anniversary of some of the Same-sex marriages happening over the next few days in Kentucky.

I suggest she be released for the Golden Jubilee Celebration.

An Endless Trail, Now just a Memory

One year ago, September 3, 2014, I finished one of the most difficult, demanding, debilitating, and daunting things I have ever done.

Standing on the peak of Mt. Katahdin after hiking 2,185 miles on the Appalachian Trail. Lost 30 lbs, slept and hiked in the rain, smelled like a dead goat rolled in shit rotting in the sun.

Met some strange and amazing people.

Saw things few get to see.

What a GREAT time! Wouldn’t have missed it for the world

Joe Broadmeadow

The Audio Version of Silenced Justice is Ready!

The final production of the audio version of Silenced Justice is finished and the project is in the distribution stages. It will soon be available on Amazon, iTunes, Audible, and other audio book sites.

SJ Audio Cover

The book was read by Brian Callanan and I know you’ll enjoy his splendid work in producing this audio version.

As soon as the book is released for sale, I’ll post another announcement.  Thanks to all of you who have read the book, posted reviews, and shared this with others. I cannot express my appreciation for all your efforts in getting the word out about my writing.

JB.

Landfill Memories

I took my two Yorkies, Max and Ralph, on a tour of the now long closed Cumberland Landfill off Albion Road. We jointly ignored the no trespassing sign and headed up the road.

In the foggy memory of my eight-year old self, a trip to the landfill was full of excitement and wonder. We marveled at the mountains of discarded junk, directed by the on-site manager to what seemed to me unorganized piles of treasure. Do not make the mistake of tossing the wrong item in the wrong pile. If you did, you risked facing the wrath of the Junk Commandant.

The man took his job very seriously.

I thought he had the coolest job in the world.

Whenever I revisit somewhere I have not been for years, in particular a place that holds memories, I try to recall the last time I was there. I wonder if I realized then that it might be years or even decades before I returned.

A bit nostalgic over a landfill you might say, but just think of the treasures and memories buried there.

My first red big boy bicycle. A memorable birthday gift. I recall pushing it all around the yard because I could not ride it.

It is buried there.

My entire collection of G.I. Joe equipment, including my astronaut G.I. Joe Gemini space capsule which I flew around my yard and house for hours and hours, imagining being in earth orbit.

It is buried there.

My first baseball glove that I used throughout Little League while dreaming of playing for the New York Yankees (never the Red Sox, I wanted to win a World Series not watch it on TV.)

It is buried there.

A short wave radio that my neighbor built for me. I would listen to broadcasts from around the world, in languages I could not begin to understand, imagining I was helping win the Cold War. Sometimes, I would tune in signals that were purely electronic, imagining they were from another civilization out in space reaching across the Cosmos just to talk to me.

It is buried there.

My first guitar.

It is buried there.

The remnants of the things of an earlier time.

They are all buried there.

It is funny how our possessions go from new, to used, to old, to discarded. They return to us in memories from all those years ago.

Many of the things I once cherished, including a pair of purple crushed velvet bell-bottom pants that I thought were the height of cool, are now hidden beneath oak and elm trees. Some things deserved to be buried, never resurrected even in memory, purple crushed velvet bell-bottoms especially.

I hold onto the memories of the things I once cherished. Not in a desire to return to that time, but because each of them contributed to my progression through this life. There was a time to be that young boy full of dreams and a time to grow up. By holding onto memories, we can preserve that sense of wonder and the possibilities of imagination.

To Max and Ralph, the landfill was just some new growth trees with the occasional piece of rusted metal or plastic piece protruding from the ground. Things to smell and explore.

To me, it holds much of the things of my youth.

I wondered, as the dogs inhaled all the aromas and smells of the area, if they caught a wisp of an eight-year old boy and his G.I. Joe, a boy looking at clouds and seeing dragons, a boy all too soon grown to manhood.

I hope so, because I hold those memories close to my heart.