In the dark and going nowhere.

Desert June 6 2015172-060715

Hey, God, or whatever you are.  It’s the butt-crack of Dawn again.  Do you know what I like about being in the dark?

Your dogs.

You’re no fun! 

You seem very good at doing this, but for most people it’s hard to surprise yourself. 

And I do it so well.

All right. I’ll play along.  Why are you talking to yourself again.

I’m sitting here typing in the dark wondering where my sense of humor ran off to.  Does it want to a divorce?  Is it taking a vacation from the not quite right mind?  What the hell?

It’s buried under a ton of reality.

Can’t you do something about all the crap?  I mean…do we really need greedy corporations, serial killers, slave labor and reality TV?

Do you remember that phrase you dislike so much, “Someone’s gotta do something about it?”


If you lived on a planet that had no challenges, it would be like reading a book describing contented, happy people where nothing ever goes wrong.

That’s like trying to read my mother’s diary.  I was bored after the first 10 pages.  “Ate oatmeal for breakfast, tended the garden, had a cheese sandwich for lunch…” 

She’d learned at an early age never to disclose anything that her family could use against her.

Slogging through her diary was like trying to read a math textbook without the numbers.   Conflict makes stories interesting, but I don’t want bad things happening to me. 

You’re not alone.  Hypocrisy is the norm, not the exception.  But people want to read about disaster, so it has to happen to someone.

Why can’t I know all the answers?

You already think you do.

True, but why can’t I REALLY know all the answers instead of think I know all the answers and then feel guilty because I thought I knew the answers but didn’t?

Are you through trying to confuse God?

I’m not trying to confuse anything and you’re not God, you said so yourself.  You’re that part of me I talk to all the time.

Who says God isn’t every string of your body.

You’re stringing me along…again?  How about a straight answer?

Here, hqaHEre…have a c at.

That wasn’t funny!  I had to erase what a 20 pound coon cat just typed. 

Humor is a way of bringing joy into life.  You can either look at life through the filter of humor or type about it in a dark room with nothing to filter it out.

People and other creatures are dying, miserable, their lives ruined.   What can I do about it?

You need an army of doers, not typers.

It’s obvious that if every person in the world wanted to rid the world of scumballs, there would be no scumballs because no one would be one.

You’re not listening.

I’m tired, my sense of humor went bye-bye and I have a dog growling at any dog, cat, or hallucination that comes through the door.  I’m not in the mood.

You’re entertaining.

That’s not helpful.

Tonight, you’re going to help someone without knowing how.

*Sigh.*  God is a fortune cookie message?  I liked fortune cookie messages better when they were badly written by people who didn’t know English well like, “You will see the lightning” or “Your love will come hard.”   Fortune cookies used to taste good, too.

Feeling better?

No.  I’m in the dark going nowhere.

Dawn is coming to shed light on a cloudy day.

I now have the answer to one question.

Which one?

Who creates those abysmal messages in fortune cookies.  Your secret is safe with me.

Sleep well, knowing your sense of humor is only a keyboard away.