I've said before in other comments that earth is home to many worlds. Each of us creates our own world with what we know or don't know. Some know they are artists. Others don't know or don't believe it.

Since the bible has been the biggest stumbling block on earth ever created, religions have been created that separate us. Don't get me wrong. I have been an atheist. I was raised as a Catholic and had to go to church every Sunday. I hated going because it was so damn boring and confusing.

Love on the other hand was something different. Something I could relate to just by some of the hot babes that were in my classes in school! I could feel the love there. But my love was limited. I hated being kissed on the cheek by Aunt Mary because she always got lipstick on my cheek and her breath stunk. Pretty shallow, I know.

Stick with me here.

It's been said or at least I've heard, God is love. That was simple. Brief. But it was also puzzling. Is it God or is it love. Which is it?

The only way it made sense to me was, God is the character name of the person reading the book. I don't need to believe in God. I just need to believe in myself. That helps me believe in others.

I learned that by losing someone I love.

Since then people tell me I should stop smoking cigarettes. I tell them that if I quit smoking today and then die in a car accident next week I'm going to be PISSED!

Imagine there's no heaven
It's easy if you try
No hell below us
Above us only sky
Imagine all the people
Living for today... Aha-ah...

Imagine there's no countries
It isn't hard to do
Nothing to kill or die for
And no religion, too
Imagine all the people
Living life in peace... You...

You may say I'm a dreamer
But I'm not the only one
I hope someday you'll join us
And the world will be as one

Imagine no possessions
I wonder if you can
No need for greed or hunger
A brotherhood of man
Imagine all the people
Sharing all the world... You...

You may say I'm a dreamer
But I'm not the only one
I hope someday you'll join us
And the world will live as one -John Lennon


All alone, or in two's
The ones who really love you
Walk up and down outside the wall
Some hand in hand
And some gathered together in bands
The bleeding hearts and the artists
Make their stand
And when they've given you their all
Some stagger and fall, after all it's not easy
Banging your heart against some mad bugger's wall

Isn't this where

-Songwriters: Roger Waters

Mary Poppins ain't got NOTHING on his shit.

Jesus Christ! That's a dam break of text you let loose here! Sweet Mother of Mary!

Very disappointed they recast Mary Poppins for this.

Have to be honest, music is wrong for the scene and, unless that Maserati is a custom bulletproof model, Mary would be dead.

I mean, unless it was a nod to old b movie action flicks, the placement of the holes on the doors didn't even try to pretend that something like the engine block or a tire stopped the rounds.

Buffy Sainte-Marie is beyond a *quality artist and human.

LOL. "I'm Mary Poppins Y'all"

Snopes included excerpts from at least two peer reviewed studies directly on topic that seem to contradict your contention....why dismiss it offhand?

In a peer-reviewed paper published by American Law and Economics Review in 2012, researchers Andrew Leigh of Australian National University and Christine Neill of Wilfrid Laurier University found that in the decade following the NFA, firearm homicides (both suicides and intentional killings) in Australia had dropped significantly:

In 1997, Australia implemented a gun buyback program that reduced the stock of firearms by around one-fifth (and nearly halved the number of gun-owning households). Using differences across states, we test[ed] whether the reduction in firearms availability affected homicide and suicide rates. We find that the buyback led to a drop in the firearm suicide rates of almost 80%, with no significant effect on non-firearm death rates. The effect on firearm homicides is of similar magnitude but is less precise [somewhere between 35% and 50%].

Similarly, Dr. David Hemenway and Mary Vriniotis of the Harvard Injury Control Research Center found in 2011 that the NFA had been “incredibly successful in terms of lives saved”:

For Australia, the NFA seems to have been incredibly successful in terms of lives saved. While 13 gun massacres (the killing of 4 or more people at one time) occurred in Australia in the 18 years before the NFA, resulting in more than one hundred deaths, in the 14 following years (and up to the present), there were no gun massacres.

The NFA also seems to have reduced firearm homicide outside of mass shootings, as well as firearm suicide. In the seven years before the NFA (1989-1995), the average annual firearm suicide death rate per 100,000 was 2.6 (with a yearly range of 2.2 to 2.9); in the seven years after the buyback was fully implemented (1998-2004), the average annual firearm suicide rate was 1.1 (yearly range 0.8 to 1.4). In the seven years before the NFA, the average annual firearm homicide rate per 100,000 was .43 (range .27 to .60) while for the seven years post NFA, the average annual firearm homicide rate was .25 (range .16 to .33)

Additional evidence strongly suggests that the buyback causally reduced firearm deaths. First, the drop in firearm deaths was largest among the type of firearms most affected by the buyback. Second, firearm deaths in states with higher buyback rates per capita fell proportionately more than in states with lower buyback rates.

Are you calling them liars?

Reminds me of this old nursery rhyme we used to sing as kids...

Mary had a little lamb, she also had a duck
She took 'em round the corner and taught them how to...
Fried eggs for breakfast, fried eggs for tea
The more you eat, the more you drink, the more you want to...
Peter had a boat, the boat began to rock
Up jumped Jaws and bit off his...
Cocktails and ginger ale, forty cents a glass
If you don't like 'it, you can shove it up your...
Ask no questions, tell no lies
I saw two men doing up their...
Flies are bad, mosquitoes are worse
And this is the end of my dirty, rotten verse

One anomaly in this: I don't know what the song writer's intent was, but the video shows an artillery shot in association with Davy Crockett . Although there was a nuclear armed "Davy Crockett" artillery round during the 1960's, the context in the lyrics suggests Davy Crockett of the coonskin cap fame (played by Fess Parker in the mid-50's TV series) who was (wildly) popular at about the same time as Peter Pan (played by Mary Martin) was a big hit - and the only World Series win (1955) by the Brooklyn Dodgers.

ah,the days of being in a relationship with a woman,who loved painkilllers with her jug wine.

who would wake me up in the dead of the night,using the super heated metal tops of a bic lighter on the bottom of my feet (those are called "smileys" for those who do not know) to scream at me about some girl who had the audacity to look my way at target,because 3:30am is the time to find out if i am having sexual thoughts about random women.

or an earlier girlfriend whose father was a prominent artist in the country and was holding a weekend jazz festival.i had a customer who had cerebal palsy,and one leg had been amputated,whose boyfriend had just broke up with her and she was a wreck.

so i had this bright idea! why doesn't this poor emotional wreck of a woman come to the jazz festival of my girlfriends dad? that will get her mind off things right?

but,having a second person accompany made me a little late.so when i finally showed up,my girlfriend was already half in the bag,and mad.i tried to explain and introduce her to mary,the heartbroken girl.

and my girlfriend broke my nose with a bottle of michelob.i do not think she cared that mary was heart broken,and an utter wreck in need of human company.i could be wrong,this is just a guess,but the bleeding from my broken nose may have been a strong indicator.

or how about the time i was counseling a long time friend,who had pulled a midnight move out to escape a man who had basically had her trapped in a spare room,chaining her to the wall.that man had gone as far as severing her achilles tendons,after her first attempt to escape,and this woman suffered from a severe case of PTSD.

now she did form an almost childlike bond to me.maybe because i had offered her the first taste of true compassion,and offered her safety and comfort,and allowed her to talk the poison and bile out that had been building inside her for over three years.

but her attachment to me,which was to be expected,was not viewed favorably by my girlfriend.i spent a lot of time and attention in drawing this broken and damaged young woman to feel safe,and to begin to feel human again(which infuriated my girlfriend).my patio was always filled with friends,artists and people of interest,and i did my best to bring a normalcy to this young womans life in order to help her acclimate,and to feel human again.

and my girlfriend would come home,get drunk,and start to whisper the most vile.and disgusting things..not about this young woman,but about me.

which,of course,if you understand the mentality of an abuse victim.especially one who had suffered such as she had.any criticism,or perceived threat to the person who had (in their mind) saved them,will create incredible anger and anxiety.

so because of my girlfriends irrational jealousy of this woman,and in her drunken selfishness,she went out of her way to make this woman feel as uncomfortable,and as unsafe (the exact opposite of what i was trying to do).so much so that the young woman...who didn't want to be a burden,or affect my life in a negative way...left my home,and wrote me she would never come back,because she loved me and didnt want to cause problems.

two weeks later she was found dead in motel room.over dose of piankiller and xanax...and wrists slashed to ribbons.

or how about the time one of my girlfriends broke three of my ribs,because i was being kind to a waitress?

or the time another girlfriend stabbed me,because while she was unhappy with our relationship,she could not abide me talking to anyone who owned a vagina.in this case a fellow artist i was collaborating with,and who happened to be not only an amazing human being but beautiful as well.

or that one time,when i broke up with a girl,because it simply was not working out and she repeatedly rammed her ford fairmont station wagon into my brand new firebird?

oh..the stories i can tell about all my wonderful relationships,and the women i have shared portions of my life with.i could write a book...

and then i watch this video,and i am overcome with an urge to drive cross country to the creators home,walk inside,grab him by the ankles and crag him outsides....and beat him senseless.

because he is coming from a false premise.
he is implying the that the benefits of relationships outweigh he selective memory our brains create when reliving our moments of singlehood.

when the reality is this:as long as you have friends,who love and accept you for who you are,you are never actually single.you are surrounded and loved by an extended family.

i do not need a girlfriend.
i do not want a girlfriend.
i am not interested in getting married.
and as i have revealed here,i would prefer some memories to remain buried under the much happier and adoring memories of my actual friends who put up with my eccentricities,and my overall oddness,rather than deal with a woman who is smitten with the ideas fed to them by institutions,and periodicals such as comsopolitian and vogue.

though,ironically,i have two ex girlfriends living in my home as i write this.
one is a former porn star,and current stripper who suffers from paranoid schizophrenia,and is a recovering addict.

while the other i had to go do a midnight rescue from a place where she was renting a room,but the house was junkie house,and she is a recovering addict as well (and they also kept stealing everything from her).she has bought a house,but it needs work and that work is taking fooooooorever.

and BOTH of these women still harbor some residual feelings towards me.even though i have been quite clear,open and honest that i have ZERO interest in rekindling anything,with either of them,but that hasn't stopped them from being all catty with each other,and causing drama,and complaining about the smallest,tiniest and most ridiculous of things to bitch about.

at first i tried to play referee.
i did my best to help everyone get along,until i realized they both had no interest in getting along.they wanted to outdo the other in order to get my attention.

which is just.....dumb..but anyways,my new way of handling their insipid complaints is always this response:i don't care.

and it seems to work beautifully.

so there you have my story,or at least part of it.
and i have to say...this guy is kinda full of shit.

for those of you happily married,with a great partner,i salute you.good for you,and i mean that.

but for me?
no thanks.i am good.

You are gonna hate me now, but I grew up reading Dean Koontz and Stephen King years before the librarian at my middle suggested Lovecraft, so 12? My first Stephen King was Night Shift, with the eye in the middle of a mummified hand; Jerusalem's Lot ruined my ability to sleep. For some strange reason Lovecraft comforted me but King disturbed me lol -- My first Lovecraft reading was The Festival.

Anyway, it's my mom's fault, i jus read whatever she had lying around the house, which also included Mary Higgins Clark, Robert Ludlum, Danielle Steel, Michael Crichton, and who even knows what else.

Totally agree in having absorbed the material rather than fully understood. I mean shit, how does a 4th grader even under The Rising Sun? It's just shocking and strange. Like d3coding a new language.

I also read a lot of young adult thriller suspense books, notably Alfred Hitchcock's young readers books and short story collections. Ray Bradbury collections, random Asimov Foundation books, and old copies of Analog, that my dad would buy from local library sales. (Thas how poor people shop for books hahaha) He was the old school scifi guy, but not at all into horror.

I suppose I don't mind hacks. Reading the letters of Oscar Wilde changed my opinions on EVERYTHING. If Wilde belongs to the criminal class or what Danny Devito's character Frank terms the "Fringe" class, there must be some saving grace even in the intellectual crime of the hack writer.