Month: January 2020 Page 1 of 2

MLK. Most know those initials as Martin Luther King. Who, we know, was shot on April 4, 1968 and died an hour later at a hospital. The events surrounding his death in the years to come, would be filled with conspiracy theories and a changing narrative, obscuring the actual moment for decades to come.

I was about 12 years old at the time. While it didn’t have the same impact on me at that age, I have grown into someone who researches and draws my own conclusions to historical “facts”. For obvious reasons, such as: just a kid, president of service club (was I now a target from my fellow elementary peers? Would I be “eliminated” as well?) Yep. Being a kid had some advantages. The world revolves around us. There is very little else except the sense of self. So it comes as no surprise decades later that I understand more about how our government operates.

Was there a conspiracy? Did MLK get the cut from life because popular opinion was turning against the wars we were fighting? Well, here’s a cut and paste for ya..

A jury awarded the King family $100 after they found there was a massive conspiracy by our government and other groups to assassinate MLK. Does this make it true? Nah. On the flip side, does this make it false? Nah. But until the juries findings are disproved, history will always find in a small footnote in legal documents, that MLK’s assassination was the result of a conspiracy with our government.

And we continue to accept that the government has our back, protects our citizens, never imposing it’s might for the wrong reasons. Could “government protection” be an oxymoron like “open secret” or “liquid gas”?

I don’t know what happened that fateful day. Is the world better off without MLK in it? His death has made history around on our planet and brought to life a grass roots effort to break down the walls of ignorance. On the other hand, how much more would he have accomplished, allowed to live his life and spread his truth? We will never know. But anytime someone is shot over their beliefs, the world becomes smaller.

We know that around the globe, governments kill their citizens for not agreeing with the policies that are being imposed on them. Is this what America has to look forward too as well? I hope not. For now, I am grateful there was a person called MLK, with hopes and dreams that all could identify with. I know in my heart we can overcome the ignorance and bullying our government imposes on us. Just electing the right people to office can make a small difference that slowly takes hold and becomes the law of the land.

Am I political? Nah. I’m a musician first and foremost, an electronic tinkerer second and a critter enjoyer third. So, how do I know we’ll eventually prevail?

Because once again, I have faith.

The other day I received a text.

“what the hay?“ to which I replied:

“hay is for horses“ the reply I got was:

“and bunnies.”

What was accomplished with the above text conversation? Nothing? Anything? I think the first text was meant to establish a connection after not speaking for quite some time. While the above may work for some people, it doesn’t work for me. If you’re planning on re-establishing some dialog with me, than something better than “what the hay” is something worth considering.

The above text makes me the person – that is now given the task of a meaningful interaction. I become the one to reestablish communication. The person sending the somewhat innocent text “what the hay?”, has transferred the bulk of the work over to the person receiving the text. Doesn’t quite seem like a genuine way to get the ball rolling again.

Perhaps something more along the lines of “What is going on with you? I know it’s been awhile but I was thinking about you and the last time we talked we were left hanging like a dangling participle.”

That I can respond to. Heck, sometimes dangling participles can be a hoot! Example:

Driving like a maniac, the fish was hit and killed.

This makes it seem like the fish was driving. Fixed it would read thus:

Driving like a maniac, Edgar hit and killed a fish. 

While no animals were harmed during the above theoretical examples, there is a very real possibility that both parties could be misunderstood. Communication becomes less than satisfactory, and ideas, along with thoughts can become mangled, sometimes beyond recognition. And for the record, Edgar and I are no longer friends since hitting the fish. Heck, I brake for fish and crustaceans!

The many ways in which a conversation can be misinterpreted are endless. Taking time to reach out, with a willingness to explain what you are saying, texting or even emailing someone, can be the difference between a connecting relationship or one that flounders, killed dead, like the fish above.

Moral of the story? It’s tough being a fish on a highway.

I know where socks go. When you’re missing one from a pair. Yep. I used to think that either my washing machine had a builtin teleportation device or another theory I had, was a sock eater. Invisible creatures sharing the planet with us that lived off socks and only socks.

Today, I walked outside to find some of my socks scattered and buried in the backyard. I was overjoyed that they had been returned from planet x. Or the 4th dimension called “Quirbyth”.

Somehow, I wasn’t buying this sudden return since they looked and seemed fresh, almost new in appearance. Right at that moment, faster than I could focus, lighting like in speed, a sock went dashing by. Not by itself of course, as socks have no feet until you put them on.

My sock was being held by my new monster and her baby teeth. My puppy. My Belgium Malinois. The sock stealer. Yep. She’s going to jail soon. Although this reminded me of another pup I had years ago. Here’s a post and picture from the evil sock stealer taken from andif.com circa 12.30.2004:

A dark object, just lying in the middle of the floor. A dark object that once use to be bright white. Yes, another sock has been recovered. My girl pup has developed an affinity for my socks. She steals them when I’m not looking then buries them – why? Only her tortured mind knows for sure. What does a pup think? Dream? I can only imagine the thoughts and images as she silently plunders my socks, buries them outside in the mud.

The one above is blowing a raspberry at me with a devil may care attitude about her criminal behavior. The other below is using an angelic expression of innocence “who me?” Notice the similarity? Yep. Evil. Sinister, calculating. Sock stealers.