Posts Tagged With: death

The Amazing Story of This Five Dollar Bill


This is it. This is the five dollar bill.

The other day, I was getting in my car and this five dollar bill was frozen in the ice by the passenger-side door, so I chipped it out with my boot and now I have five more dollars.

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Thoughts On A Dying Man

Fred_Phelps_10-29-2002Fred Phelps is dying and I don’t really feel anything about it. For years, this man – a man who terrorized his family, violently abused his children and formed a small but very vocal organization based on hate and demonization – has captured the world’s attention by publicly flaunting his brand of hatred at funerals, concerts and other gatherings for the purpose of media attention.

His church – comprised primarily of family members, many of whom are lawyers or have studied law – sustains itself by suing anyone who attempts to silence them. It’s a scam, a plea for attention based on a whacked out theology and – lo and behold – an insanely successful strategy. They’ve been around for so long now, and are so ubiquitous at the funerals of service members, celebrities and children, that they’ve become a part of the American backdrop. They’re horrible people – but, very well educated people – who’ll do what they do and they are actually free to do it.

And, Phelp’s death won’t end it. There’s too much momentum behind it and his followers are too inured to his way of thinking. You can’t argue with them – they know how to not listen. You can only ignore them, and they make that very difficult. Phelps is a horribly flawed man, a warped individual, a destructive force. But, I take no joy in his impending death. It will help no one. Protest his funeral if you will, it’ll just help create Buzzfeed articles.

I do have one hope, though.

For reasons unknown to the general public, Phelps was excommunicated from his own church in August. That had to be incredibly difficult for him. He may have had to hold on to the notion of receiving peace, finally, in paradise. I hope that as Fred Phelps dies – as he slips away into that vast nothingness, that blank, that void – I hope he realizes that nothing awaits him.

That there is no other side.

That there is no reward for his work and no punishment for those he hated.

I hope he realizes, in that brief final second, that everything he has done in the service of his god and his values has been for nothing.

I hope he realizes that he has only made the world a harder place to live.

I hope he attains that brief moment of clarity and that the last thing he feels before he feels nothing at all forever, is sadness and disappointment in himself and grief for the pain he caused so many people on this small and tightly packed planet.

I take no pleasure in his death and I hope he doesn’t either.

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Halloween Interlude – The Shortest Ghost


The Shortest Ghost was very short
Not even two feet high
He looked up to the other ghosts
Who called him “Little Guy.”

The witches called him “Goblin Food”
The mummies called him “Thumbkin”
The Draculas just picked him up
And stuffed him in a pumpkin.

The werewolves all turned up their snouts
As if he wasn’t there
The bats and spiders laughed at him
The Devils pulled his hair

Each Halloween he hoped and dreamed
He’d pull off one big fright
And listen to the children scream
And cry for mom all night

But, when the spooking hour came
The other ghosts would sneer
“A tiny ghost with no loud ‘Boo!’
Does not inspire fear!”

This Halloween, he sat at home
And watched some DVDs
But scary films just made him sad
And he’d seen all of these

And so the Shortest Ghost set out
He thought he’d Trick or Treat
With emphasis on “tricks” because
The treats he could not eat

He stalked a motley group of kids
Who’d not, for hours, be missed
And with a pounce enveloped them
Within his spectral mist

He showed them sights – obscenities –
No living being should see
The face of Death, the Hills of Ot
The Red Pnakotic Sea

He led them through Zehirete
The Holy Womb of Light
And bathed them in The White Fire
Which Is Darker Than The Night

Shub-Niggurath – the Black Goat
With a Thousand Hungry Young –
Ignored them, but not Nyarlathotep
God of the Bloody Tongue

The King In Yellow, Hastur,
Lord of Interstellar Spaces
Was dropping by and broke their minds
By showing them his faces

The Shortest Ghost then dragged them deep
Beneath the ocean’s waves
Where mermaids, fat with sailors’ blood,
Lured men down to their graves

And, down where dead Cthulhu dreamt
And Dagon held court, too
The Shortest Ghost swam in their ears
And whispered to them

The children screamed, or tried to,
For the ocean filled their lungs
But, soon enough, it mattered not
For death had stopped their tongues

He’d played his trick, he’d had his treat
The dawn would soon be there
The shortest ghost now had his proof
That he knew how to scare

“WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?!” his brothers cried
As he rose out of the foam,
“The Old Gods wake! The Howler Screams!
The Shambler starts to roam!”

“You’ve called attention to mankind
With your stupid little trick
We’re sorry that we called you short
But, this is pretty sick!”

The Shortest Ghost looked hard at them
And, then into the sky
The stars blinked out, the clouds dripped blood
The moon revealed an eye

He thought, “Well, no more haunting now
The dead won’t fear the dead
And, no more Halloween for us
Just endless dark instead”

But, never did the Shortest Ghost
Regret what he had done
For size is always relative
Beneath a blackened sun.


Categories: Halloween!, Horror | Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

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