the insurance man worked for an old school insurance company that was a debit route. each month he would go to clients houses and pick up their monthly payments. the agents also were required to sell new policies to young and old, rich and poor and anyone they could get to sign the contract and get the first month’s premium. often, supervisors encouraged the agents to pay the first month’s policy just to get the account going. the policies were mainly ” burial” policies and didn’t have a large cash value, usually only 5 or 10 thousand dollars. and most of the people had the policies for years and paid more into the policies than what they were worth. imagine that, an insurance company taking advantage of people. but the insurance man was just trying to provide for his family. he really didn’t like the job, but it did provide a weekly paycheck. he had only been on the job for 2 months when he was given a new ” lapse” client. the “good old boys” at the office would give the new agents accounts that were far behind on their payments and would soon lapse – meaning the agent would lose a portion of his paycheck because of losing account. the new account was 3 months past due and more than likely was going to be cancelled. the “client” betty, a woman who was 61 but looked 85 had certainly had a rough life. her face and body was wrinkled and bloated and a sour smelled lingered about her. every month she was behind in her payments and the manager was always pressuring him to get 2 months in advance -to pay the past due and also have payments on file in case she died. the first time he went to make the collection, it looked like so many of the other low income trailers that his “clients” lived in. he was not one to judge people and felt that everyone deserved respect and common decency. The yard was littered with old cars, garbage and empty cardboard beer boxes. there was an old, skinny dog chained to pole that didn’t bother to look up as he walked by. there was no food for the dog, but an old bucket with green water with bugs floating around in it. as “betty” opened the door and met her “new” insurance man, he was greeted with a smell he would not like to have experienced. it was a combination of cigarette smoke, garbage, urine, rat feces and old soiled baby diapers. The inside of the trailer was full of junk -boxes of junk and dust covered everything. The constant cigarette smoke had stained the walls and junk with a yellowish covering. As he walked in, he glanced in the kitchen and saw several days of dirty dishes piled up around the sink and stove. roaches were competing to nibble from the the mounds of leftover food on the plates, sink and floor. rat feces were scattered indiscriminately around the sink and concentrated on the open door of the cupboard, which revealed several boxes of food that had been gnawed through and the ingredients had spilled out onto the floor for the roaches and mice. empty prescription pill bottles lay scattered around the counter. she explained to him that she was watching her grandkids for various reasons -none involved love or a maternal grandmother instinct. she started off with her reasons for not having the payments – her ex -husband had come by and “taken” the cash she had saved to buy beer – her daughter tasha had just started a job at burger barn and needed money for clothes -her stepson craig had needed money to get bailed out of the parish prison. he had gotten drunk at a bar and punched a woman that didn’t like his new tattoo – amber, her youngest (16) daughter needed money for a prescription for her newborn….and on and on and on…..he had heard these stories in various forms from most of his “clients”…but there was something in the air at betty’s – and not just the smell, that creeped him out. evil. darkness. something otherworldly. as betty was crying and puffing on a cigarette at the same time, he noticed a small child on the floor coloring intently. she seemed to be about 9 or 10, but was wearing a diaper that was quite full and a care bear shirt covered with holes and food stains. betty noticed him looking at the girl and explained “that’s darrell’s daughter. he’s in the pen and won’t never be getting out. he didn’t molest them children.it was all lies. lies, all to just lock him up.” then, he really felt the evil. as he looked at the girl on the floor, her eyes met his gaze. her cheeks were sunken in and her eyes were larger than usual and bulged out. she was skinny and frail looking – fetal alcohol syndrome -the thought went through his mind like a fire alarm warning. as betty was rambling and crying, the child got up and walked towards him. she handed him the drawing she had worked so hard on. it was a family of stick figures. They all had frowns and sad faces. there was a tree with birds in it and a rainbow in the sky next to the sun. off to the side was one stick figure – with big eyes full of tears – she asked him” mister, if I saw a rainbow, would it make me happy?


	

Memory Farm

Charlie was a baby boomer. And the memories he had of his grandfather were very faint. Only what the old codger had offered up in family settings or relegated to brownish tinted, tattered photographs of a bygone era; old cars, old clothes and old ideas. He had no recollection of his great grandfather, less than faint descriptions of an almost mythical and certainly forgotten character. He was a baby boomer though, and most of them had few memories of any great grandparents. It was different for those born after the 21st century in the US. By that time society was well into a rapid disintegration and young men and women were making children by mistake, as an afterthought. And because they made babies and moved on to other, selfish interests, there were lots of children born in the early 21st who might have known their great grandfather, but in all reality almost would never encounter them in this lifetime. But, he was a baby boomer and he did have a smattering of memories about his father.

It was in the early 21st century when those memories ended. A lot of things ended then. The world began to change. At first, it was just weird changes, but then things got darker. At one time in history, the world citizens had their own ethnic culture and sense of, well for lack of a better word – morality. True, there were dictators, injustices, and evil. There always had been. But at one time, the world citizens had culture as well. Technology only aided the evil that had always been present. The darkness manifested itself in economic control of all the masses by a select few. The effort was further supported by the elimination of privacy and a determined effort to eliminate individualism or free thinking by consumerism and societal values determined by Government Media.

In the early 21st century any free thinker or one of artistic expression was singled out; not by any thought out mechanism, but by a tide of lies and propaganda. George Orwell wrote 1984 in 1949 and in 1984, his story had materialized, but very few took notice. Even then control of ideas and memories were being integrated.

Most of the music in the 80’s really sucked. He was a baby boomer. He grew up in the last true artistic era that the US would experience. The music would never be better. Even in the early 21st century, the music of the 60’s & 70’s lived on. But he did have memories of his father. And in those dark times those memories shined like beacons in the night, After the Great Fall and even before, many people around the world and across the US had lost their houses, their hopes and their families. It was all a part of a plan, whether realized or not that would put total control in the hands of a few.

The depopulation movement had gained hold and the concept of an “individual” was looked down on. Things got darker, and there was no one to look to for help, no one to share experiences with. The Daily Screen had replaced all that. Charlie had even wondered in the early 21st century when the first generation of “smart phones” had been marketed if they were really such a good idea. Social media and workplace applications took away the interaction that humans were used to. It was s very subtle developmental engineering tool that was “just the way things happened”.

Charlie sometimes felt like John, the Savage from Brave New World. Nobody that he knew had ever actually read the book, they had seen the synopsis in older versions of the outlawed Wikipedia site that was removed and replaced by the Governmental Media Services tab on the Daily Screen.

Charlie had heard about the Memory Farm and was intrigued by the idea. Because of classification and age he was assigned to the Governmental Agricultural services building, He would never have the opportunity to even enter the building, but the thought became an obsession. He was very depressed when he was first assigned to the Governmental Agricultural services building and even though he was required to receive the Feel-a-reel anti- depressant in his daily water ration. Something had changed in him, in his way of thinking, the day he saw the tulips open.

It was an act of rebellion that had afforded him the opportunity to linger in the growth pods late one day as the work day had ended. The signal had gone off and all the workers had started to return to the atrium to return their tools and return to their living stations, but Charlie lingered. Something about the light on the leaves around the center, right near the bulb. And as he waited, the light shined ever so lightly and the whole plant burst forth in light. And he actually saw the bulb open, so small, but yet so sure. He was never the same after that. He was staring do intently, he remained oblivious to the cessation signal and it was only when two Class 3 attendants had physically grabbed each arm that his concentration was taken off the blooming flower.

They grabbed him roughly and made some crude remarks about his mental state, but Charlie was completely oblivious. He had just had a revelation so powerful, an epiphany so strong, so life changing, so inspiring, that he would never be the same. It was then, at that moment that his fascination with the Memory Farm was fueled and he starting desperately trying to remember anything at all about his father.

All night long Charlie wondered, imagined and visualized what the Memory Farm contained. It was like adrenaline was pumping through his veins and despite the fact that it was almost dawn, Charlie felt as alive as a teenager preparing for his first date. And with the musings and wondering a more desperate scenario was being realized in Charlie’s head – how to get into the Memory Farm.

He realized the ramifications when he would be caught – isolation chamber, Electro therapy or perhaps even death. But after witnessing the tulips opening, nothing really mattered anymore. Perhaps it was the connection of blooming, birth and the relentless curiosity about his father that had given action to this obsession.

As dawn quickly approached, Charlie had conceived his plan. And nothing, not even death would deter him. He mentally visualized each step of his plan, rehearsing it over and over. After breakfast he would be taken to the atrium to begin work .On Fridays only one attendant would be there as the rest of the work crew were dispatched to the fruit and vegetable processing warehouse. It was really against Charlie’s nature, but he planned to hit the attendant from behind with a garden implement, take his uniform and I.D. chip and enter the Memory Farm. What would he find? How soon would he be discovered and how quickly would he die? It really didn’t matter. It was as if the witnessing the tulip blossom brought him to life, it erased the mind programming and set his spirit free.

After breakfast, Charlie followed his plan to perfection. Beating the attendant to death was invigorating to Charlie. He was so tired and crushed over how his life had become that murder wasn’t a fear or concern. As he approached the entrance to the Memory Farm he slipped the I.D. chip into the scanner port and Whoosh! The door opened promptly. He went into the main hall; thousands upon thousands of what looked like viewing stations lined the walls. Charlie quickly entered the first station. With no idea of how to access the equipment Charlie sat motionless, and slowly and quietly he began weeping. Thoughts about his father flooded his mind.

After a moment he looked at the bottom of the screen and saw a pad that looked like it might be a place for a fingerprint. Could it really be that simple? He reached down and placed his finger on the pad. All of a sudden a myriad of numbers and codes flashed across the screen. Flashing almost seemingly at the speed of light the numbers finally stopped. The background screen went from deep purple to a greenish hue and then Charlie saw his name flash on the screen: CHARLES EVANS ID# 37375.

Charlie felt a lump in his throat and the tears continued as the screen faded to a lighter sepia tone Charlie’s whole life was documented. A combination of what looked like home movies and Government surveillance video sped forward, and at one point Charlie recognized him and his dad playing. He fumbled for the controls and somehow the screen frame went into slow motion. Charlie was six years old and he and his dad were playing chase in the park. It was fall and the leaves were lazily drifting to the ground. They were both laughing and running. His dad caught up with him and hugged him and they fell on the ground in laughter.

Tears streamed down Charlie’s face. He wept profusely, and then, as the attendants placed the immobilizer into Charlie’s neck, his tears stopped.

 

Surveillance, Technological Exploitation & the Apocalypse

Well, 1984 came and went and we just didn’t care. From extreme right & left web posts to the nightly gruel poured out by mainstream media, we are begining to realize that we are living in the middle of a science fiction story. If you read about Ray Kurzweils transhuman endeavors or the military’s DARPA projects creating mind control devices, then the reality of our countries eminent bankruptcy probable won’t alter your entertainment choices. But the fact is, the times , they have a changed! Our species is so inundated with distraction , entertainment and political smoke screens that the average person is just trying to make it through the day. Any attempt to wake people up and take a look around will earn you a label and target you – target you based on what is near and dear to your heart. People all around the world should rise up. So many of our values are the same – love of family, love of life, peace, joy and the ability to enjoy the beauty around us. Conspiracy theorists have their mantras in place- the Banks, the Rothchilds, the New World Order…. But they try to divide us by our origin, faith , economic standing and even by how we live our lives. Technology already is displacing the human workforce. And all we are concerned about is Pro Sports, Movies and Sensationalized crime trials that appeal to our lowest human condition. So, like Kurzweil and other futurists – be forewarned…..Singularity is almost here. Singularity is the time when artificial intelligence in computers surpasses human intelligence…in so many words. We must teach this and coming generation the value of Love…..Love never fails. And if we don’t say anything we are hypocrites and slackers who deserve whatever condition we find ourselves in. There is a Spirit and Supernatural realm unaffected by the folly of men. Religion thinks it can take you there- but it is only a claim. Any human being with a heart and brain has the capacity to search themselves and do the best for the ones they love and care about……. Use your head, use your heart….it’s time to challenge what we have always accepted…..

Reza Aslan – the historic Jesus

The Reza Aslan interview on Fox News gained a lot of attention. The main take away was a what a terrible job the interviewer did and then the comments from all sides – Christians,Muslims, Atheists, republicans, democrats and everyone in between. As a follower of Jesus I have been fascinated with the historical Jesus. And have read many extra biblical accounts of the historic Jesus. While Mr. Aslan was persistent and excited to share his scholarly credentials – which stand alone and are to be commended. One cannot possibly write or attempt to understand Jesus in a scholarly setting due to the fact that we are dealing with the supernatural. Let the pundits and critic go on and on , but that which is Spirit can only be understood by the Spirit.