Where are they? Where are the
people in power to call out the
killer in the White House? Rally

after rally after rally with thou-
sands of supporters who rub
shoulders and breathe on each

other and cheer on the grim
reaper and now we know that
in addition to the nine-plus million

infected and the two-hundred-
thirty-thousand dead all because
of the killer in the White House,

there are, according to a major
university study, thousands more
infected and at least seven hun-

dred dead because of the killer’s
campaign rallies. Okay, let’s get
this in some kind of perspective

— one person kills another person
and the killer goes to prison for,
maybe, life. What happens to the

killer in the White House? Maybe
he gets re-elected. Say what!!!!
Say what!!!! Say what!!!!

He watched a weird movie
with pregnant horror ready

to jump out of the screen,
but he was glad the movie

concluded before a later hour
because he didn’t want night-

mares, so, instead he watch-
ed in that later hour a news-

cast of the upcoming election
with polls drawing the candid-

ates closer and closer, nearer
and nearer, reminding him of

a horror film he watched as a
kid about a mummy climbing

out of a tomb and advancing
toward innocent victims —

“Slowly I turn, step by step,
closer, closer.” “Okay,” he

said, “That’s enough.” He turn-
ed off the TV, went to bed and

sighed a sigh of relief when he
heard his wife tell the dog to

go back to bed because it
was still too early to get up.

He got up and was glad to
hear the gale winds that came

early in November and then
he remembered that the

horror film was actually
an Abbot and Costello
comedy.

The preacher’s kids’ favorite holiday
was always Halloween — the costumes,
the candy. Not Christmas, not Easter,

not the Christian ones. No, a pagan fest.
Thank heaven they were never asked to
play a trick on the treaters if there were

no treats. That would come later when
they were teens, maybe. The preacher
never knew, but he did remember being

sixteen and wearing a trench coat pulled
up over his head playing a headless/horse-
less horseman and not getting a treat so

he and his buddies’ trick was to tip over
the garbage cans. Thank goodness they
were empty. The preacher’s kids now have

kids and what will they do this COVID Hallo-
ween? Stay home, watch horror movies and
eat pizza while their parents reassure them
that there will be other Halloweens. Boo!

He sauntered to the bus stop,
stood still, didn’t feel a thing
and then the cement beneath

him gave way and he fell feet
first into the fifteen-foot deep
hole and was surrounded by

rats for the time before he was
rescued. He said he couldn’t
yell for help for fear the rats

would get into his mouth. For-
tunately, the rescue was swift.
His sister said he is recovering

from a broken arm and leg but
the trauma of the swarming rats
will haunt him for a long, long

time. Sorry for your experience,
pal, but could there possibly
be a better metaphor for now?

He rails so hard against the
excesses and abuses of patriarchy
that he sounds just like an
excessive and abusive patriarch.
He just rants while missing the mark.
Hamartia is not quite the idea.
Perhaps he should settle down while home,
breathe in deeply with his mouth shut
and breathe out open-mouthed uttering only om.

They have had the girl for two years.
She was a six-year-old Chocolate
Lab puppy-maker and then she was
out on the street. On their first visit to
the vet they were congratulated on hav-
ing an eighty-five pound, six-year-old
puppy. “Yes,” they knew. Yes, six years
without a leash. Two years later and
mostly leash trained, the girl still had
a very strange behavior. Every time
they petted the girl’s belly, she would
lift her leg. And then one day, the light-
bulb lit up almost simultaneously and
they exclaimed, “The puppies! Mom’s                                                                                 inviting her puppies to dinner.”

“It’s liberation in exposure,” said the candid-
ate, “It’s been 400 years and it took world-
wide exposure in the hands of a young woman
holding a camera to see what horror has been
going on for 400 years,” to paraphrase. It took 
a technical advancement for us to catch up and 
the candidate said he thought we finally had 
and that’s good news in the midst of what seems 
like most everything is moving back to the back 
of the bus, but it’s not, thanks to a very brave 
young woman.

Saul his thousands slew;
David his tens of thousands slew;
Jesus simply brought healing
to the Hebrews, Gentiles,
me and you….

I’ve had it with patriarchy;
it’s a whole lot of malarkey —
guys running around
sticking out their chests
beating their breasts
and making stupid guttural sounds.

Death is the end result
and the making of much tumult —
guys running around
brandishing guns,
acting like Huns
while making stupid guttural sounds.

And so, I am now resigned
to what matriarchy will help us find —
peace, playfulness, running around
embracing each other
like affectionate brothers, sisters, fathers and mothers
while making sweet, affirming, cooing sounds.

So, we must stop being chumps
like our close relatives the chimps —
living in societies with violence all around.
Rather, to our relatives the Bonobos let us look
for a matriarchal guide book
where peace, mercy and love abound.

*idea from a meditation by Matthew Fox: https://dailymeditationswithmatthewfox.org/?utm_source=ActiveCampaign&utm_medium=email&utm_content=%5BDailyMeditations%5D%2010%2F27%2F20%3A%20%20Violence%20and%20Peace%20among%20Chimpanzee%20Communities&utm_campaign=%5BDailyMeditation%5D%2010%2F27%2F20%3A%20%20Violence%20and%20Peace%20among%20Chimpanzee%20Communities

The damp cold enters
and my duck down vest withers —
brilliant leaves hang on.