my careless contagion

The video above is in the same vein as some I've posted recently about who runs the world and how corrupt and disgusting they are. I feel it's worth watching, however, because it offers another layer of truth. The truth, after all, is like peeling an onion. You can always go further; there is always another layer. If you feel you might be triggered by this particular peeling onion, don't watch the video. The video begins with a tiny pyramid. I'm wary of anyone who uses the pyramid, as it is an occult symbol. It is ubiquitous, but I never ignore it. It tells me I'm getting a carefully controlled version of the truth, and there are many more layers underneath. The Netflix documentary about Jeffrey Epstein is similar. One of the production companies responsible for the film is Third Eye Productions, and the introduction shows a girl walking up a walkway of money with a giant eye (Epstein's) within. Because of the "vanishing point" angle, the walkway ...

I'm tired. Yes, I've written an awful lot lately, so I'm tired of writing. I'll finish out my photo memories series and then probably take a break.  But my tiredness is something else, too. I've fought most of my life against what is now happening in my country and around the world. I am a warrior, but I don't wrestle with flesh and blood. It is a purely spiritual battle, though we see the effects of that battle in the physical realm. Right now, God's people are not winning the battle. Yes, some days offer good news. Most days, however, are a draining parade of bad news.  This battle will probably kill me eventually. I've begged God to give me strength and a reason to continue. That reason appears to be my son. I want to see him grow up and have children of his own. I want to grow old and die a natural death. I want the same for him. That's my prayer.  When a man becomes involved in spiritual warfare, the enemy never forgets. Though that man...

I really hate writing posts like this (but perhaps this is the direction this blog needs to head). But something is amiss in Minneapolis. I was hoping to ignore it, that it would just go away, that it wasn't yet another media war on the United States people, but it just blew up. They got what they wanted: rioting in the streets. More division. And your attention just shifted from 10 other horrible things they are doing to one. Sleight of hand. Now that they have your attention on this one thing, what are they getting away with? People are figuring out the purpose of the pandemic, so we better start something else. Okay, slow down, Joshua. It's all planned. These things almost never happen organically. Americans are fat, lazy, peace-loving, and not at all organized. They don't do stuff like this unless there is pressure from an outside force. And torching one's own city does not endear people to your position that things are very wrong in your community. It only mak...

The above verse is from Psalms. I have said this verse literally thousands of times. It is very important to me, as it got me through some very hard years. I recall waking up some mornings, my body full of pain, not much to look forward to, and grabbing onto this verse with all my might. Let's face it, I don't have a whole lot going for me even now. I squandered most of my gifts. I wasted time, money, talent, chances, and garnered a whole lot of trouble. I believe we should take responsibility for our actions, and I have done that. However, I was also programmed through an abusive childhood to choose the life I did. But that's not my point. My point is, every day is a gift from God. Every moment — even the unbearable — is an opportunity. Many times I have prayed relentlessly for something to change. Long after the point of despair that nothing would ever change, God changed everything so quickly it made my head spin. When God moves, sometimes it happens all at once. ...

You don't miss something until it's gone. In 2021, it will be a quarter-century since I graduated high school. If I had done things the right way, I would have graduated from college in 2000, gotten a good job, married a nice girl, and then had a few kids. All of those are blessings from God. Instead, I made my own way, screwed up my life, and have regretted my mistakes ever since. But let's take a look at what was, not what could have been. My senior photos were taken in 1995. I don't know exactly when. It doesn't matter. I was asked to bring along some things that were meaningful to me. So I brought my Bible (pictured above), my fishing pole (fancy and collapsible), tackle box, and a whole lot of denim. Holy crap, the denim. The photo below is actually huge. I couldn't scan it so took a photo. All I'm missing is a denim belt (actually, it does bother me I'm not wearing any kind of belt). you'd think my parents worked for a textile factory. Al...

Geoff was my best friend once upon a time. My family moved from South Dakota in 1987 to Nebraska. My oldest brother and father moved first, then the rest of us over Christmas break. Apparently, there was a lack of rentals. Geoff's family lived next door. We were in the same grade (4th), and he took me under his wing.  The top photo was taken at Geoff's high school graduation party (he's wearing the tie and I have my arm around him, my brothers on either side). This may have been the last time I saw him. That's a sorry ending to a best-friend story, I know.  Geoff was the best at everything, as I recall. He was super smart, athletic, well-liked, and had plenty of friends. When we moved to Nebraska, I was at least a year behind in all my subjects. Using Geoff as a marker of success, I got myself good grades again by the time 5th grade ended.  I went out for Optimist Football using a borrowed helmet and pads. On the first day of practice, I recall Geoff yelling ...

The Hot Spring Star is a defunct newspaper. It no longer exists. That fact makes me sad, though I realize times change. The Star was an important part of my childhood. It was one of my first babysitters and taught me much about what is important in life. What is shown in the photo is the second location of the Star building. The first was down the road a couple of blocks. The original building has Hot Springs Star etched in sandstone on the facade. I used to look for fossils in the cliffs in the back lot. My mom was always amazed when I would come in with fossils that were barely visible. I also remember climbing up one of the cliffs and getting a bee sting, which I think was the only time I've ever been stung by a bee. I remember taking naps in the scariest part of the basement of the old building after school. I also remember soaking opened envelopes in water and collecting interesting stamps, talking to a reporter named Steve who told me he was Stevie Wonder, but I knew...

Want to know what is strange? I'm 42 years old, yet I have nearly no memories of my birthdays, though I recall my last two birthdays. The one before last year I took a test and didn't celebrate my birthday. My dad sent me some Omaha Steaks, which was pretty nice. I was living outside of Rapid City at the time. Last year I ordered a pizza and shared it with my son in the park. He likes pineapple on his pizza, so say what you need to say about that. We played on the locomotive , which is the remnant of an old railroad museum, at the park afterward. There was no party, but having my son with me was special. That's all that mattered. My favorite girl emailed a birthday wish, so that made my day. She didn't have to do that. Unexpected things mean a lot. What I don't like about birthdays is you get your hopes up and think, erroneously, that it is a special day. Think of it like any other day and you won't be disappointed. Nothing out of the ordinary or spectac...

Puppies! Who doesn't love puppies? I saw a whole lot of puppies growing up. One year (was it Christmas?) my parents gave their three boys a young female German miniature schnauzer. What fun! But with a caveat. She was the gift that would keep on giving. She was an early lesson in entrepreneurialism. She was a breeding dog, and we were going to make a bit of money. Her name was Lucky Loo (sp) because she somehow escaped having her ears cropped, dew claws clipped, and tail docked. I recall sitting outside the room when the veterinarian did all of that to the puppies and their cries still haunt me. I can still see their tails piled up on the stainless steel table. "Puppy farms" have a bad reputation, and rightly so. Those dogs are not treated well. Dogs that come from homes where they have been held and loved on are more likely to be well-adjusted and happy. So homegrown puppies commanded a bit of a higher price. Our puppies ended up in pet shops in Denver. I thought th...

Right now Nobody But You is at the top of the country charts. It's a pop-country love ballad, which means it's not much country. Blake Shelton's and Gwen Stefani's voices meld well. The song is slick, well-produced, and doesn't overstay its welcome. I've heard it quite a few times on the radio, and I never get tired of hearing it. But, perhaps, that is because it brings a certain woman to mind.  Some may feel sorry for me. Some may feel embarrassed I continue to feel the way I do about her. Some may tell me I should be ashamed of myself. But I think once you find the one you want to love, you love them regardless of the circumstances. Loving someone changes us, and I am changed. That girl has gone away, but my love will not go away. I don't want anyone else.  I don't think there is any harm in loving someone, even if they can't return your love. I am being honest and true. Anything else would be a lie, and I cannot live a lie. Though my reali...

Face mites! I have the strangest conversations with my 5-year-old son. One of the latest involved face mites.  I’m not even sure how it happened, but one morning we woke up and (after talking about banana sandwiches) started talking about face mites, which are tiny parasitic arachnids that live on nearly every human being’s face. I told him they eat dead skin (they do not; they eat sebum) and come out at night (which is true). Normally, they hide in our pores, gorging on the oil from our glands. They can live up to two weeks, and the reason they come out at night is to mate. Also, they are very good house guests, leaving no mess in their wake.  I showed my son a photo of a face mite, to which he exclaimed, “Oh, how cute!” At this point, I suggest readers look up photos of face mites themselves (or click here ). They are decidedly not cute. But beauty is in the eye of the beholder. To me, they look like tiny, though harmless, monsters. When a baby comes into the worl...

My aunt Jane is my father's kid sister. I believe she's a half-sister (different mother). He also has a brother and another kid brother (half brother who is younger than me), all younger than he. That's my dad's side of the family. Pretty wild. But Aunt Jane was a force for good in my life.  She lived with my family I think after she was done with college and before she got married and had kids and all that. She paid attention to me and we had similar interests, so naturally, we had a lot of fun. Except for that time I took her perfume sprayer apart (I was always taking things apart). Aunt Jane is funny, quirky, has curly red hair, and loved all things artistic. The photo dump above shows us coloring something together. The last photo is reprising my role as Tiny Tim. By the way, our house was always trashed like this. I mean, stuff was everywhere. My parents' home is still a disaster. I suggested many times they have a garage sale to get rid of stuff (or many ...

Yep, that's a dead deer. Yep, that's me sometime in the early to mid-90s. This is a terrible photograph. It was night, so the flash created some monstrous shadows. I didn't try to fix this photo. My mom most likely took this photo, as my head is nearly cut off. If you think this photo is bad, the rest of this event are worse. I don't know if my mom would have done any better with the camera in my hand. I don't have a record of it being used. And, well, it's a bit of a crime scene. But at least I got to do my hunter face! Grr! Tough guy. Why am I posting a photo of me with a dead deer? Well, he's a beaut, for one thing. He's not the biggest deer I've gotten over the years, but he sure is pretty. That's a corn-fed Nebraska deer. It looks like a whitetail. Those were the days. All you had to do was sit on the corner of a cornfield at daybreak or at day's end and these guys are either leaving or descending to feed. Deer are crepuscular, whic...

My parents have a large suitcase-looking thing full of photographs. They aren't organized. They're all thrown in there, haphazardly. The strap on the case broke a long time ago because the case is so heavy. It holds thousands of family photographs. My son and I looked through them a little bit, and I picked out a few to share. My dad, for some reason, segregated his old family photographs and keeps them elsewhere. I'm calling this post "Don" because that's the name on the Polaroid. Remember Polaroids? They're terrible, as this photo attests. I actually lightened it and tried to balance the color, but it's still dark and unbalanced. I can't tell what the girl's name says. It actually looks like "Jassi," though that seems strange. It looks like we all wrote our names because the penmanship is different for each.  Anyway, who are Don and Jassi? Many years ago when my family still lived in Hot Springs, there was a program during sc...

This photo was taken when I was one year old (1978). I was walking and playing with a ball. I know a little bit about child development, and that seems like a pretty nifty thing for being one year old. I was also as happy as can be. Most of the photos of me when I am very young show a vibrance and happiness that is missing in later photos. This proves that I was not always glum. Something happened in those early years that turned me that way.  I'm told I was potty trained before one year. I don't know. Those pants look pretty baggy, like I could have a diaper on. But it doesn't matter. I look happy, and that's what little kids should look like.  I should point out that most of the old photos taken by my mother look like this. People's heads are cut off. Massive foreground. Nothing is centered. It was like she jumped off a chair while taking photos. But their awfulness is endearing, of course. They are strange snapshots of moments I never would have known exis...

Another milestone for this blog! I've reached 400 posts in a little over two years. That equals a post every 2-3 days. That's a lot of writing, which equals a lot of therapy. Thank you for following along! I'm tired of talking about myself. I'm tired in general. Perhaps the bulk of the work is done. Through this reflective writing therapy, considerable insight was gained. Putting my thoughts and feelings here was valuable.  When this blog began, I had no idea where it would take me. I wrote because I didn't have anyone with whom to share my thoughts and feelings. I needed an outlet at a very ugly time in my life. My divorce was the catalyst for this blog, though many things have been discussed since then. I've gone through just about every emotion and have somehow survived, though I am changed. I am a decidedly different human being than when I entered the portal of pain called divorce. As for the dissolution of my marriage, perhaps the best way to sum ...