End Game

Lot of people are upset out there. They’re upset about this whole gay, lesbian, bi-, trans-, binary gender neutral thinking. They expostulate that it’s this simple: if you’re human, you’re either a man or a woman. If you’re a man, you have sex with a woman. If you’re a woman, you have sex with a man. Everything else is wrong; everything else is an abomination.

I laugh at that. They’re so absolute in their knowledge and beliefs. Many fall back to the idea that God (or Allah, or someone) created the two sexes, and it was written in the Bible or some other religious tome, or inscribed in rocks, or were whispered into ears, so, The End. There’s nothing to discuss. Two sexes make sense, because it’s all about procreation. Go forth and multiple.

Which is, you know, amusing. Did God finish, and say, “Okay, that’s that. What else can I do? I’ve got a lot of time on my hands. Where’d I put my list?”

You figure, if God, or some force behind creative intelligence, is out there, they’re probably trying new ideas. Maybe they have the big picture, and said, “Okay, I got to plan this carefully. Start with baby steps. Start small. First the foundation, universe, planet, and so on. You know, the heavens and Earth. Right. Now add people and animals. Start with two sexes, just to keep it simple. Then go from there, once there’s enough people. It’ll take a while, if I’m going to create one or two, and then have them multiply a couple at a time. I don’t know why I just don’t create the numbers needed now and be done with it – I am the creator, you know – but, whatever, I got the time. No hurry. We’ll have them procreate for thousands of years, get the numbers up, spread out across the planet, and then I’ll add more sexes later, along with new skin colors, like blue, and purple. That’ll be cool. Those other sexes and skin colors will be needed to finish the big picture. Okay, Miller time.”

I don’t know the big picture. I’m not God, or a God, or a prophet. I’m agnostic about having deities out there putting everything in place, pulling strings, and giving mysterious directions. I don’t know, though. You’d think that if you believed there’s some all-powerful being out there behind our existence, you’d trust them enough to believe that they’ll keep on creating, and that they have an end game in mind. You think you’d keep an open mind about it, because, you know, if you pass on, and come face to face with God, he – or she – might ask you, “Why didn’t you accept the other sexual orientations? Who do you think you are? Don’t you know how you messed up the big picture? You guys messed it up so badly, rejecting the others, that I might have to scrub it all, and start over.”

If whatever God is out there and does scrub it all and starts over, I hope he or she re-thinks those whole war, violence, and abuse angles. Other sexual orientations and identification doesn’t bother me nearly as much as all that pain and killing. That seems pretty senseless.

But then, I don’t know the end game.

Wednesday’s Theme Music

Woke up this morning with music streaming in my head. The first song was U2’s cover of “All Along the Watchtower,” but I quickly shifted to “Woke Up This Morning (Chosen One)” by Alabama 3. Most people, including me, are familiar with it as the Soprano’s theme song. So, why not a theme song for the day’s theme music.?

While looking for it, I came across Song Fact’s information about the song and the band. Nice to remember that the band is British and from South London, and the song is about Sara Thornton, a housewife who put an end to her husband’s abuse, stabbing him during an argument. Beyond that song, though, I’ve found them a band with interesting, unique music and powerful lyrics.




The Ticket Dream

This was an ironic, humorous dream for me.

I was in a huge airport terminal. It was day. I’d been traveling all over, mostly alone, as was my case during my careers. Now I was going home. But where was home? How was I getting there? I didn’t know either of these answers.

As others left, I searched through my baggage to figure out where I was supposed to be going. While I was doing this, a female airline employee walked up and talked to different people. I prepared to approach her to ask for help. But as I did, she turned and pointed to me. “You’re going on the eleven nineteen,” she said.

I was impressed that she knew that, and thankful. After she said it, I discovered a ticket in my baggage. The ticket was one of those antiquated styles, with a card back and several tissue-thin layers separated with carbon paper. Pleased and relieved, I had my ticket. I just had to wait for my flight.

It was apparently going to be a long wait. Flights were called; people departed, and I remained. I kept losing my ticket in my paperwork. Back in paper days, I would create a folder for my travel. It would have my boarding passes, tickets, baggage claims, agendas, orders (when I was military), et cetera. As others left, I became anxious. To relieve my anxiety, I’d check my ticket. Each time I pulled out my folder to consult my ticket, the ticket was gone. Then I’d go through a mad hunt, emptying my bags and searching for my ticket. Each time, though, I wouldn’t find it, until – surprise! – I found it in my paperwork.

I moved closer to the customer service desk where the woman worked. At one point, she saw me, pointed, and said, “You’re going on the eleven nineteen. Your flight is soon.”

My wife arrived, surprising me. “How did you get here?” I said.

She was smiling. “My boyfriend drove me.” Her expression told me she was joking.

Tired, I wasn’t in a joking mood. “Well, did you boyfriend give you a way to get home? I’m on the eleven nineteen. My flight is soon.”

She held up a ticket. “I know. I’m on it.”

“How’d you do that? The flight was full.”

She didn’t say. At this point, I slipped into enough consciousness that I knew this was a dream. It reminded me a lot of some of my travels, but the part that struck me as ironic and humorous was that my ticket kept getting lost in my paperwork. I thought, that’s pretty funny for a writer.

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