Why the Church has to reject Secular Materialism NOW

 Firstly, I'll just say that there's a definite place for secular humanism, while I completely reject secular materialism.  That said, the Church, an institution that MUST exist to meet the SPIRITUAL NEEDS of society, has moved dangerously close to, and in too many cases fused with, secular materialism.  I write this post because I just saw old nuns on NBC at a Notre Dame basketball game on IPhones.  I'm guessing they weren't doing the work of the Church or the Lord.  A minor criticism?  Possibly but it's illustrative of the shift in the modern Church from deep thought and the pursuit of spiritual development to one of wanting to be cool with the secular masses.  I'm sure the nuns I saw are considered "great nuns" and are very hip and cool with those they speak with, meaning they probably teach the modern secular liberalism that's made globalization so profuse.  We already have WAY too much of that.  If the Church doesn't go back to its spiritual disciplines sooner rather than later, it's become useless to civil society because it will have ceased to be the alternative its supposed to be.  

VERY SORRY I wasted my time and emotions on the United States

 As the 2022 midterms come to a close and my place in society is once more invalidated and irrelevant, I have to express my final feelings on politics in the United States as being a complete waste of time, thought and emotion.  The ancient Romans, even in their Republic, had an illusory system of "democracy" which only existed to favor the very rich and powerful, always in the concept of a super minority of family connections.  The regular people suffered and did all the work.  Guess what we have in America?  The same thing.  We have a political Uniparty, essentially their own family power structure, which exists solely to further its own financial and power lusts.  Outsiders need not apply, just like they need not have applied thousands of years ago.  America sucks.  It's always sucked in some capacity and it always will.  America is a nation of the Godless, the materialistic, the addicted, the empty and the mentally imbalanced.  It's fake "freedom," the "freedom" to detach from reality and live a fantasy where the natural laws of mankind can be ignored and denied to the inevitable detriment to all involved.  Reality WILL not be denied.  It can't be.  It has its effect whether it's acknowledged or not.  The United States is fantasy. It's a nation LOADED with problems which its arrogant nature refuses to see or cope with.  When we live in the light of reality, we see that the United States is a great enemy. as all elements who choose to live in fantasy in a world where we must acknowledge reality are fated to become.  The wealthiest will once again be the only ones who profit while the decent people suffer.  The most corrupt people will continue to harm the most innocent.  The brainless herd will desperately try to nudge their way into the elite classes to benefit in the useless materialism and the fake security it affords.  Just like in ancient Rome, one of the most corrupt "civilized" civilizations in human history.  Fake, illusory, savage and vicious.  Sorry I tried to save you, America.  YOU wasted MY time.  

Short Post: Are our emotions spiritual or physical?

Spiritual.  In my experience, our emotions are spiritual and eternal.  They go way beyond the physical.  They're as close as we get to God, which is encapsulated in the idea that "God is Love."  Our emotions are not scientific.  Our emotions are not disposable like our physical bodies.  When we die, our emotions do not cease like our physical bodies as our emotions are not guttural and instinctive.  Our emotions are our souls and make up who we really are in the ether of eternity.  We cease to be physical people.  We never cease to be emotional beings.  

Is Mathematics hard reality like science or creatively conceptual like poetry?

 Just watched a neat philosophy lecture on Pythagoras and it made me think of mathematics.  We all know science is physical reality.  It's tangible. something we can feel.  It has mass.  It has a cause and effect impact of us and your world.  Mathematics is intellectual and at least perceived as in the galaxy of scientific reality but is it really?  If a piece of wood is at a right angle, we know the wood is real but how are we to analyze its right angle?  Abstract thinkers (as they were back in the day) came up with a thought process that this piece of wood had a certain bend to it and that numbers, merely ways of counting physical objects, could be applied to this bend but was seeing a bend in the wood necessary at all?  Why would we need to conceptualize this angle in the first place?  It's a hunk of wood and has the laws of physical science behind it.  We MUST acknowledge it's a hunk of wood.  It can be in our way.  It can hit us over the head.  It has a potential impact outside ourselves we can't deny.  But must we acknowledge mathematics?  Nothing about the wood or ourselves changes if we don't see the wood is at a right angle.  Physical reality goes on whether we see it or not.  In that way, is mathematics a necessary application in the real world at all?  If we didn't conceptualize math, with all its intricate calculations, would we be the worse off for it?  

In that way, I see math as being a bit like poetry.  Like the poetry of beautiful things.  We experience beautiful things like flowers in the real world because they have mass like the block of wood.  We then think of ways we can creatively express what we're seeing in an aesthetic way.  We apply it to our emotions.  in contrast, we apply the idea of a right angle in a block of wood with pure intellect, largely free of the emotions.  We can get emotional over a right angle but it seems rather silly!  While it's virtually impossible to create good poetry about a flower without some sort of emotional aesthetic.  In that way, mathematics can be seen as emotionless poetry, intellectually creative yet devoid of any need for an emotional connection.  Mathematics is often very important for creating a sense of order in our lives which helps makes our existence bearable in a technical fashion.  It's a facilitator of problem solving.  However, if all we need to do is see the block of wood as just a hard, physical object devoid of shape and we need not use our emotions to conceptualize it, is mathematics even necessary to our existence as the acknowledgement of the physical and the emotional are?  Food for thought!  

My Spiritual Views

 As no one reads my blog anymore, this is pretty much for me.  

I grew up a Catholic and I went from believing it definitely to being more questioning to being agnostic to being a complete disbeliever.  Certain experiences (like a near death one) have opened my eyes to the idea of spirit, specifically the "great beyond" as it were.  

Combination of views and philosophies:  

As I've grown, as my senses have been blown wide open and I've largely separated from the social distractions that come from organized religions, I've studied different views and I've become a combination of humanism and ancient tenets and philosophies.  

Roman Stoicism:  

All intelligent people eventually "figure out" religion, meaning realize a lot of stuff in religious stories is made up to prove points and build a common mythology.  Nothing wrong with that at all but, if we're searching for spiritual truth, more aesthetically pleasing than helpful.  So, a seeker of truth turns to more thoughtful, intellectual concepts in searching for truth and that means studying other "religious" ideas and classical philosophy.  I love the ideas of ancient philosophers the most because they lived in times where there were fewer mental and emotional distractions, therefore their insights are a bit more clear headed.  I love the later Germans and Brits but there's SO much for them to consider that they become SO complicated!  Beautifully tough to learn but very cluttered!  So I love the ideas of Parmenides and Heraclitus, especially because they're simple, eternal and at the root of perception.  "No man steps in the same river twice" is a perfect concept for evolution.  Parmenides' view that life and time are eternal and present and that we essentially never go anywhere is a perfect concept of the timeless nature of soul and spirit.  In terms of looking at society, I really like Roman Stoicism, maybe because I love old Roman history and because it's a more masculine view I can connect with.  That all things happen for a reason, even the horrible things, that we can't comprehend is a great thought process for letting go, for trusting in life and the processes of life.  Without such concepts, we try to control everything and we can't get through a day without being overwhelmed by the horrors of the world, especially in today's social media climate.  Which leads me to the next idea I've come to embrace. 

Taoism - "The Way" 

Roman Stoicism is a great way to learn to let go of trying to change what cannot be changed in the physical world.  Taoism is then a great direction on a new direction to go in, namely getting in touch with the rhythms of the universe and ourselves, the metaphysical, the eternal, the spirit beyond the world.  It eliminates the distractions of the physical and allows for clear contemplation of the ideas of God and the universe, which then leads to the question of why we're on Earth and where we go when we're done.  Also if there's any purpose we have, if there's anything we need to do on this planet and why we're here.  I find that being in touch with the natural order of the universe, not the disorder of the physical world, purifies my thought and thus my spirit to a certain extent.  If I ponder what is good, I ponder what is good and bad in me, what I need to work on, bad traits I need to eliminate, etc.  It's spiritual work, not material work, which can carry all sorts of poisons with it.  Even evil men have jobs, as they say!  It's learning to go with the flow of the eternal and NOT the flow of society.  I used to go with the flow of society and I lost a lot of ground doing so.  In trying to navigate the world, I became a mouthpiece for the current, as we see so many people do, especially in the media.  "What's happening now?!  Because whatever is happening now is good!  I need the latest device to be cool, etc!"  You become lost, easily willing to not rock the boat in order to get along.  After a time, you look at yourself and you just feel weak.  You have no purpose.  You live and fight for nothing.  Maybe you have nice surroundings and a nice job because you get along but, take those away, and what do you have?  Just an empty shell that needs the illusions and distractions of the physical world to be able to function mentally and emotionally.  That emptiness leads to such pain, which is why people seek faith and spiritually in the first place.  I'm proof positive that material pursuits and success, no matter what the cost, is ultimately a dead end, and no addiction or pleasure in the world can heal the disconnect from what is truly universal.  Spirit is depth and soul and happiness.  Being at one with the universe is peace.  

Neo-Platonism: 

That said, being one with the eternal, the Nous, is one of the top ideas of Neo-Platonism which I've come to embrace.  For me, we no doubt become one with the Nous, the universal concept of what is considered God, when we die as we no longer have a physical body to stop us.  I kind of see The Way as God coming to us.  I see Neo-Platonism as us going to God.  The former is finding peace in the physical world by conceiving oneness with God.  The latter is actually being in his arms, which I feel is a very loving thing.  We become good when we're associated with good, when we're connected with good.  The physical grounds us in pain and the progressive corruption of human desires.  The spirit, the soul within, is free from such things.  Merge our souls in eternal love, goodness and happiness and we have a place we will never leave.  We will have arrived.  

People Currently Responsible for the Current Race Violence in America

Here are the people currently involved in and leading the current violence. There are a lot of them which leads to a perfect storm shit show.

1. Older liberals/Democrats who desperately want to get rid of Donald Trump and believe discord and violence is the way to do it. They're the worst of the worst. They're the old guard Democrats like the Nancy Pelosis and the Charles Schumers. They know exactly what they're doing and they don't care if the country burns because they think one man is literally Satan.

2. Black people/liberals who legitimately believe white people are hunting them on a daily basis. I feel bad for some of them and some of them are just paranoid and uneducated. The latter are abused and used by the liberals in No. 1 to do their dirty work for them. I see people like Chris Cuomo as being in this group.

3. Liberal/Communist/Feminist/Anarchist Media who are only interested in achieving their social gains. The feminists at rags like the New York Times fit this group. Combined with No, 1, these people are the lowest of the low because they relish the violence and egg it on simply to stop a President whose very existence has dominated their emotions for four years. People like Don Lemon are in both No. 2 and No. 3.

4. Little shit bag suburban liberals of all races who think being a revolutionist is "cool and fun!" They're the Black Out Tuesday people who think they're street and cool to attack cops and promote protesting. Once this is over, they'll move on to their next "cause." These people are symptoms of the disease. Buzzfeed is the perfect example of this group of annoying little shits.

5. Antifa. The terrorist wing of the Democratic Party. Liars who say they only exist to fight fascism when really they exist to destroy ANYONE who disagrees with them by labeling them fascists whether they are or not. No. 3 defends and protects this group and some are no doubt involved with their activities. No. 3 also believes these people are some sort of heroes when, in truth, they're violent thugs with no real set purpose other than producing fear.

6. Hollywood. Stupid celebrities believing and saying stupid things. The group with arguably the most clout combined with the least competence.

7. Black athletes and their white sycophants. The people with arguably equal clout with Hollywood. Most of the voice of black athletes are from people with CTE or guys closer to Bad Newz Kennelz than they are PETA. But they're black so people think they know what they're talking about. Have a ton of clout with the actual rioters and looters and have been cheering them on the whole way. LeBron James is in this group. Certain black athletes like Colin Kaepernick who grew up well off who suddenly think they're oppressed victims. People who, if they weren't athletes, would be front and center robbing Target Stores. Their white sycophants are the those on networks on ESPN like Colin Cowherd and Skip Bayless who think people like LeBron James are social heroes (insert laughter emoji.) I grew up playing sports and sports culture is black so there's a ton of whining going on by rich black guys who should be praising America for their lives instead of bashing it. Rich whiners included people like Shannon Sharpe, who apparently thinks he speaks for "his people" about shit that happened hundreds of years ago.

8. Black Lives Matter. This is the most interesting group because there are parts of them in all Numbers 1-5. It's a murky term that means different things for different people. Antifa/terrorism is included in it. Well meaning black people who think white people are hunting them for sport. Black people like the 1619 Project so filled with hate and delusion that they don't even believe their hate and violence is hate and violence. Black Karens (to use the term) are in this group and they want to see your President about making white people kneel and bow to them. They're dangerous instigators only interested in satisfying a horribly toxic need for social revenge over their lot in life. Little shit bag liberals who think Black Lives Matter isn't a black panther redo and that it honestly attacks evil racists. Hollywood and black athletes are mouthpieces for it.

9. Legitimate revolutionaries. The deadly people. The truly malevolent force that wants social destruction, no police presence to stop their lust for power and victory over and dominance of white people. The only good cops are dead cops to them. Also the hardcore socialists that want society to burn because it best helps initiate Socialism/Communism. An increasing number of Black Lives Matter members are in this group. They're the 2020 Black Panthers. Murderous sociopaths using tragedy to rape, pillage and plunder. Some of Antifa overlaps here, too.

A lot of elements have to combine in life for a horribly violent catastrophe to occur. The nine examples above are responsible for the current chaos. I'm not talking justice for George Floyd. I'm talking the CURRENT CHAOS.

It's Time, America. It's Time for an Enlightened Military Oligarchy to Run this Country

I'll preface this by saying "military oligarchy" does NOT mean military tyranny.  It does not mean a fascist takeover.  I'll elaborate below.  I want to get this out now so I'm only going to post basic ideas and policies.  I will elaborate more in the future.  

Qualifications:  I have a history degree with a political science minor from Wisconsin-Whitewater.  

Note:  These are obviously my opinions for the direction the government of the United States.  

Voting: 

Eliminated.  This would be the biggest system change.  The citizenry of the United States, due to recent events, has forfeited its right to choose its own government.  Military officials would be chosen by patriotic, nationally interested men and women with the power and will to enforce its laws and enforce societal order.  They would run the important governmental offices with speed and efficiency.  All unimportant offices will be eliminated.  In short, you've lost the competence to govern yourselves, America.  Time for orderly, sane, competent, capable, mature individuals to mete out policy and justice.  

Rights:  

So what does this mean for your rights?  You would essentially still have them except the right to vote or cause dissension based on free speech.  Social (more below) and racial dissension would be considered "fire in a crowded theater" and not tolerated. The Constitution would still exist (amended where necessary but that is a separate discussion.)   I realize amending the Constitution is an enormously important issue but the vast majority of it will be the same.  You WILL have the right to criticize your government but make the criticisms COUNT.  Don't be lying about or slandering your government because it would still WORK FOR YOU.  The only change would be the leadership that would make that happen.  

Media: 

The media in America is the No. 1 source of discord and disorder.  CNN, MSNBC, Fox News, and all independent media "think tanks" would be 100% eliminated.  No Sean Hannity.  No Don Lemon.  No Chris Cuomo.  No fake Meet the Press BS.  No White House press conferences.  No "gotcha" media like Jim Acosta.  Local and national media would still exist but it would be under a tight system where facts and statistics are given and ALL political rhetoric will be eliminated.  Political opinions based on Left/Right ideology would be eliminated.  "We report, you decide" will be enforced and all biased factual inaccuracies will be met with severe penalties.  Social media sites that engage in actual time responses like Twitter would be eliminated.  Thus, the coordination of violent activities and other threads being in illegal rhetoric would be, at least, squashed before they pick up any momentum.  Strict ground rules for "illegal rhetoric" would be made very clear to all.  Companies like Facebook and Instagram would be tightly regulated to prevent immediate coordination of violence.  

Legal System: 

Instead of a chaotic system of jury trials and biased elected officials, sane, competent groups of educated military officials would run the trials based on dispassionate evidence.  Testimony would still be heard, things like fingerprints and DNA evidence would still be used.  Our trial system today is not a disaster.  However, this tweak will streamline it.  It's doubtful there would be more OJs or Casey Anthonys because the politics and media garbage would be eliminated.  Justice, not politics, would be the SOLE focus.  

Illegal Immigration: 

No more of it.  No open borders.  There would be both walls and increased border security.  Don't even try coming in illegally.  If you do, military personnel would have the authority to use lethal violence if necessary.  This is not for the average illegal immigrant, obviously.  If illegal immigrants come to our southern border, Mexico will be responsible for letting them in their country via THEIR southern border.  

Violent protests:  

Eliminated 100%.  If you are using violence and you persist, you will be arrested at the very least and military personnel would be instructed to use lethal force at worst.  The current (June 2, 2020) race riots would be met with an immediate lethal response.  If you're going to use violence, you're going to get violence.  As stated, that response would be immediate.  

Social and economic issues:  

Good jobs for good money would be available to all.  Hiring practices would be by military personnel.  Discrimination would be eliminated as would reverse-discrimination.  All citizens would be equal both before the law and in practice.  Equality would be enforced as will crushing all dissension based on race.  That dissension is NEGATIVE, harmful dissension.  It is not crushing free speech.  Just dangerous, potentially violent free speech.  Race rhetoric beyond scientific conversation will be considered inflammatory and unacceptable.  Thus will the economic and social problems that cause discord and violence be eliminated.  Capitalism will exist.  Business will be business.  Economic inequalities can still exist but that means billionaires can be billionaires.  The difference will be poverty and homelessness would be eliminated so that pain would be gone.  All people with mental illnesses would be put on medication and afforded any help they need, be it economic or things like housing.  Social security would still exist and would be still be administrated.  The medical community would exist as always.  

Race rhetoric:  

Eliminated 100%.  Any race politics and race discussions beyond scientific ideology would be eliminated.  All race information will be based on statistics, not opinion.  

Political Parties:  

The Media system and the political system will be the two most radically chanted institutions.  Political parties would be eliminated and made illegal.  No Right or Left rhetoric.  No political or social power to the citizenry.  Things like religious beliefs and assembly would be allowed as always.  People would have the right to hang out in whatever groups they choose and they can discuss Left vs. Right ideology is they choose but it would be gone from the national discussion.  

Identity Politics: 

Eliminated.  All people with different sexualities and gender identities will be welcome and tolerated but the political pushing of identity politics as a means of social "progress," which is, in truth, divisive, would not be tolerated.  

Sociology:  

NO policies will be made under the biased banner of the pseudoscience "Sociology."  

Police: 

Law and order (not as a dog whistle) would be the only focus for police.  They would be taught to understand different people with various problems to better help their performance but they would be there to enforce our laws, not cheerlead our citizenry or make biased political decisions.  

Creativity:  Political dissension on a mass scale would be eliminated in mass media like movies and TV.  Political dissension AS AN IDEA would be more tolerated (though not much more) in literature but not much more.  

Education: 

No more "white privilege" kind of stuff in schools.  No more liberal sociology in schools.  No religious rhetoric in public schools.  Only fact based education.  ALL "teaching" from politically motivated individuals designed to manipulate and "change minds" will be eliminated and those that persist in such biases will be fired without protections from unions.  

That's it for now.  The only real difference between our country now and under this system is that proper, competent military officials that care about the country would run the show, not the average citizen.  The only real liberty people would lose would be the vote.  Yes, that's a big one but society must move forward.  Americans have proven they are not capable of doing that.  Life will still essentially be the same but the political discord will be completely eliminated.  

This would still be the United States!!!  It would just be a better United States.  

That's mostly the gist of my argument, though without the necessary details for the moment (as I just started thinking of this last night.)  

Previous art with more work

More art

Writer. Intellectual. Bipolar. Views of Jeffrey Riley. : Playing around with Microsoft Paint

Writer. Intellectual. Bipolar. Views of Jeffrey Riley. : Playing around with Microsoft Paint

More Microsoft Paint

Playing around with Microsoft Paint

A critique of American liberal thought

Growing up a Republican before realizing I'm much more of a Centrist, I've long pondered conservative American thought.  Based on the personal beliefs I was taught and experiences with Republican friends and family, it's been relatively easy to understand how personal bias colors how right wing people see the world.  Most of that comes from limited contact with anyone outside the tribe.  In American conservatives, that typically means being diversity free and, thus, not understanding of the experiences and motivations of people that are different; namely, other races (black, Hispanic, Asian, etc), sexualities (LGBT) and anything else not experienced by the exclusive American conservative (namely, very white) grouping.

The election of Donald Trump and the radicalization of the American Right has proven a disgusting, despicable revelation for me as I loathe everything at its root, namely the ferocious racism of its stupid, overwhelmingly white adherents and the subhuman talk radio shock jocks that give it life and sustenance.   This is how I never saw conservatives growing up.  I saw Ronald Reagan and the conservative ideological pursuit against things evil (whether you think the Soviet Union was evil or not is your opinion) and Reagan's endlessly inspiring, compassionate oratorical skills as being the epitome of all that was good with the world.  Conversely, Trump's childish, insulting, dimwitted, "insert a million more scathing realities" rhetoric, playing to the worst traits in the lowest common denominator has forced me as an educated man, like many other educated men like George Will, to disgustedly and, to a certain extent, forcibly detach from all things Trumpian.  In short, "American conservative thought" has become an oxymoron.  The intellectual ideology is gone in favor of the dipshitted ilk of grade school dropouts like Limbaugh and Hannity.   American conservative voters found their inherent stupidity while conservative spineless politicians keep allowing it to fester because a non-Democrat is in the White House.  

So I'm disgusted!  The party that I thought were the good guys are decidedly not. The people that I thought were about justice and principles are not.  So what is an American thinker to do?  For me, that means considering the other side.  I break from many on the new American Right because I very much believe in social justice.  That means justice FOR ALL.  As I will illustrate in a moment, liberals only believe in social justice for liberals but I'll get to that.  I want life, liberty and pursuit of happiness for everyone.  I admit that comes with caveats.  If I feel certain people are jerks, I'm not interested in them prospering.  It's not that I want these people to die but I don't want them to be successful, either, until they become better people.  I also have the animal instincts all human beings have.  In this case, I feel the tribal energies and pulls like everyone else but I choose not to succumb to them.  I want to be a better, broader human in a better, broader, more egalitarian world.  "Whiteness" used to provide me with great comfort and joy because it's what I knew and I didn't have to think about the uncomfortable realities of "different" people.  Truthfully, I could easily go back to being a very white, narrow minded right wing person but, as stated, I don't want that.  I'll also state that right wing people are not the inherently monstrous people non-understanding liberals make them out to be.  Right wing people very much love and care about their families.  However, as conservatives, that tends to be the only groups they care about.  I'll further comment on any other right wing views as I go along but I'd like to get to my critique of how I see American liberalism in 2018.  I have to preface this by saying this comes mostly from my observations of liberal culture and contacts with liberals on Twitter, YouTube or other forms of social media.  I have had many contacts and conversations of this kind so I feel I've gleaned a few things.

1.  Liberals are just as tribal as conservatives, though not in the same way.

Due to the indoctrination of various groups, American liberalism is a looser tribal confederation than the more homogeneous conservatives.  Liberals, in their attempts at beating the more racially centralized conservatives, learned some time ago that organizing and indoctrinating different ethnic, sexual and racial groups was their best option.  The organizing overwhelmingly comes from white educated liberals, those with education enough to have abstract views of right and wrong in America.  The marginalized groups (blacks, gays, etc) are primarily used to being marginalized.  That's their American experience.  They vote Democrat out of a feeling of necessity because of the perception (and frequent reality) that it's all they can do against people who hate them.  This makes for a conglomeration of diversity that isn't exactly unified yet isn't distinct (at least politically.)  The more educated, typically white liberals very much want a strong, inclusive group dynamic.  They're the ones who preach American ideals like "Give us your poor, your tired, your huddled masses..."  They're the main tribal organizers because, as typically self-indulgent, self-righteous Americans, they KNOW in their hearts it's the correct way to go.

The problem is that modern American liberal thought is stuck in the past.  Listening to liberals today is like listening to a speaker from 1850.  To them, slavery and segregation essentially still exist and they're the ones how have to combat it.  This outdated thought is very dangerous to America because it ignored progress and teaches a form of learned hopelessness.  Thing are bad, always have been bad and always will be bad is the rhetoric.  America has made progress in racial matters.  Trump being elected doesn't change that.  However, the PERCEPTION that has accompanied the election of Trump, fueled by the "mainstream" media, had created the idea that we're just as racist a nation as we were 200 years ago and that is false.  Not only is it false, it's dangerously false because it stirs up potentially violent action in the name of falseness.  I'm not sure if Democrats at the top are using such rhetoric to keep themselves as unified as they can be or not.  I do think they all honestly believe we're as racist now as we were in 1819 and that is without question not the case.

2.  Liberal Americans are flaming hypocrites.

American liberals are in that sick, dark place where rhetoric and practice are near complete opposites.  Their preaching is in the typically American style of perfect self-indulgent self-righteousness that affects both sides.  "I'm right and you're wrong because I'm going to say all these wonderful things that you do and we don't."  For liberals, it was the idea of "When they go low, we go high."  After Trump's election, many Democrats went public with their disdain for this idea.  They lost an election to a HATED opponent and lost their marbles and principles at the same time.  American liberals tend to be driven more by their emotions than their logic.  When they get in a downward spiral, this can prove deadly because they don't reason their way out of it.  They don't catch their breath and think, "Okay.  Calm down.  I've got this."  They become easy proponents of what's happening now in the arena of rage and hate.  That's where American liberals are right now with Donald Trump and the US Presidency.  They're full of rage and hate on a daily basis.  Whether you consider it righteous or not, it's still very toxic and frightening.  The fake "counter balance" is their rhetoric of peace, love and understanding.  The reality is that they're movement is peace, love and understanding FOR SOME, which means whoever is in their group.  I've read and experienced several comments from LGBT people, for instance, that talk about how they're all about love in one breath then they spew as much hate as you could ever possibly read towards right wing people the next.  Apparently, "love" only means their group.  Have LGBT people faced hate and discrimination in American history?  Definitely.  However, claiming they're all about social love when they also spew social hate is hypocritical.  I don't mean to pick on the LGBT community.  I'm just giving an example as they're in the liberal tribe.  Liberals will also throw people under the bus (like mentally ill people) if it fits their agendas on issues like gun control.  Hey, I thought you guys were inclusive!  Just not towards crazies and white men, apparently (pardon the personal rant.)

3.  Liberals are not self-aware.

"Know thyself" and be humble in what you find are ideas lost on the American liberals of 2019.  Amazingly, they typically don't see their rather startling level of hypocrisy in attacking people not in their tribe.

More to come later.

Types of Pride, from Physical to Social

Physical:  The most animal, the least objective, and most understandable form.  In a society where beauty and performance are usually considered to be absolute (we all know what a "perfect" body looks like and what a sports victory is), this from of pride is expressed simply by sight and activity.  The individual feeling the pride typically uses it, whether for their own self-worth or for things like athletic success and successful physical relationships with a sexual partner.  This pride is both most hated and admired.  

Intellectual:  Comes from different angles but, like all pride, is fully evinced by self-awareness.  The physically proud knows he or she is good looking and/or dominant.  Intellectual pride is expressed in different ways.  Basic knowledge is the most understandable.  If you know more things about more things than anyone you know, it will often manifest as pride (though it can also come as shame if you feel you know too many trivial things!)  Pride can also come via intelligent insight.  This can be a form of street smart instead of book smart.  You have the ability to read people and situations on your feet and on the fly.  This kind of insight is usually not seen as intellectual but I believe it definitely is as it frequently comes from the great mental ability to assess and analyze on your feet.  A form of overall self-awareness and self-knowledge also qualifies.  "Knowing thyself" can often be the hardest thing humans can aspire to.  Those that greatly achieve this can be intuitively brilliant without being book or street smart.  

Existential:  This is pride for the sake of pride.  It's expression is simply the individual feeling proud for no real reason.  "I feel proud!"  However, unlike happiness and sadness, existential pride seems silly.  Whereas it's understandable we can feel things like happiness or sadness just for the sake of it, pride seems ridiculous if we're not actually proud of something.  "What are you proud of?"  "Uh...nothing in particular! I just am!"  This attitude may be encouraging and empowering to the individual but it makes you look like an idiot to everyone else.  

Positive, healthy pride:  This pride comes from being proud of all the right things.  If you're a good parent, a good role model for your children, if you work hard to support yourself and your family, if you do charity work, if you want the best for people, etc, etc, etc.  This is really the only kind of pride that's vital to the individual (though there are combinations like a proud pro athlete who uses his skills to support his family.)  This is the responsible pride that is much more about self-worth and self-esteem.  It's the "good person" pride that makes mankind positively evolve as a species.  

Religious and Social pride :  Now we're getting into the infinitely more abstract and potentially dangerous forms of pride.  Though many religions preach against feeling proud, as a human emotion, it will seep into everything we do that we feel is right.  Most religions preach good things.  However, the interpretations of these "good things" and the perception of implementation has been responsible for many, many atrocities in human history across the globe.   At an equal level is social pride, though that level often comes in the form of the potential more than the actual.  People on the right of the political spectrum tend to feel more pride in religion as a social factor.  People on the left side feel the social pride that comes from a feeling of self-righteousness in the form of ideas and beliefs on issues like social justice.  Religious fanaticism is much less a problem in the Western world today than it is in the Middle East, where ideas of religious righteousness go back thousands of years and can result in acts of terror against perceived opponents like 9/11.  Social pride is the major issue in the Western world today.  A more integrated society, invariably seen as the moral, righteous path by those in the mainstream, often degenerates into the worst aspects of human pettiness, such as tribal behavior based on racial or sexual identity. We're supposed to get along but, as a GroupThink species, we often don't nor do we even care to.  Now we have group pride, which is the most dangerous form of social pride as it usually comes at the cost of individual decision making or sensible reason. It becomes a social contagion fueled by aimless emotion and passion where people profess to believe the same things, no matter what or how competent they are, as the orthodox standard of right vs. wrong.  If you stray from that, you are suddenly considered "the enemy" and a terrible person, even if what you believe is correct.  Individuals are usually held accountable for what they do as individuals, whether socially or legally.  Group pride often takes the form of mob justice grounded in peer pressure based on perceived evils, ideas of racial or sexual extermination of those different, and racial pride in believing your race is superior simply because it exists and you're in it.  This is the lowest, dumbest, most disgusting form of pride because it takes no intelligence or insight to achieve.  It's humanity as a group of apes in the jungle. At least physical pride is an expression of individuality mixed with awareness.  Social pride is pure act and react and, in a civilized society, is very dangerous.    

Thank you for reading! 

The Electrical Man - A Ghostly Halloween Short Story

“Life is often just an interim between nightmares.” 

         

        The comment from the young woman named Martha, no older than 20, took Joyce Butler, 32-year old retail office worker, by surprise as only routine small talk about life, in general, had preceded it.  Yes, it being after midnight made it Oct. 31, Halloween, with the office decorated accordingly, but that didn’t mean glumness need be the prevailing mood.  It made work more difficult and that’s why they were in the office at 1:45 AM on Halloween.  They were there for work because it wasn’t 1950 anymore.  It was 1984 and computers were the wave of the future and she, Joyce, being the youngest office worker with any real tenure, was the senior most employee stuck with learning about the damn things.  She normally worked first shift but was appointed the sacrificial lamb stuck in a week-long third shift course learning about the computers so she could teach the other office workers what she’d learned when she resumed her place on first shift.  Martha was a newly hired employee who would be trained more thoroughly.  Computers and young women were apparently both waves of the future.  Joyce had been making small talk with Martha but the perplexing comment threw her enough that she struck an incorrect key on her keyboard. 

          “No, that’s not right,” the young man, also no older than 20, mumbled impatiently.  Her company had hired him to teach the two women the “ins and outs” of creating things like spreadsheets on the computer for better office efficiency.  He appealed to Joyce as a cold, logical type, the kind of technology person she had little use for, the kind of man that ignored the sunshine of the outside world and all its sensory wonders to spend all his time cooped up with computers and television sets.  She didn’t resent or feel superior to such people; they just weren’t her cup of tea. 

                “You have to press this key here, see?” he said, blandly, leaning over her shoulder and pointing.  He felt icy, like the smell of the wintergreen gum he was chewing.  Joyce repressed a sarcastic reply and pressed the key as the man went to help the young woman a few seats over.  Joyce looked around the office.  Fake spider webs hung from the ceiling with fake spiders intermixed.  Paper Jack O’Lantern, ghost and witch cut outs adorned the walls.  It reeked to her of corporate commonality. 

          “I can’t wait to go home,” she thought. 

          Suddenly, the lights flickered, came back on fully then dimmed nearly to darkness.  The young man, afraid of losing the progress of the software download, scrambled to Joyce’s computer.  Before he could press a key, the lights went out.  Though they were in an enclosed, familiar space, the darkness combined with the surroundings made Joyce shudder.  The decorations now moved in her mind.  The spiders crept along the cobwebs and the witches and ghosts took flight.  The young man swore and the young girl held her breath.  The only exit was via elevator.  If the power stayed off, what would they do? 

          A minute passed.  Lost in darkness, none of them spoke.  The sound of machinery coming to life was then heard and the lights came back on.  Joyce breathed a sigh of relief.  Martha seemed very afraid, the young man very irritated.  Moving to the young woman’s computer, he grunted in frustration as it rebooted. 

          “What kind of place is this?” he growled.  “What kind of business is this?” 

          “I’ve never seen the power go out here,” Joyce said. 

          “He hates the electricity,” a man’s voice said behind them.  Startled, Joyce swung her head to see a janitor who had come in from the warehouse the office was connected to.  He wore a typical janitor’s uniform and was holding a mop resting in a wheeled bucket full of dirty water.  The young man moved towards him and put his hand out to shake. 

          “Hi,” he said.  “I’m George.” 

          The janitor, a man with a wizened face and awkwardly groomed white hair held up his hands and said, “Oh, no.  Look.  You wouldn’t want to get your hands dirty, would you?” 

          The man felt very odd.  Though she’d never seen him before, Joyce, lost in the moment, laughed to herself. 

          “A man comes out of the dark,” she thought.  “Has a ghost visited us on Halloween?” 

          “I’m sorry if I scared you,” the man said with a chuckle.  “My name is Alfred.  I’ve been here for a time but my shift is almost over.  Well, I guess everything is okay now.” 

          As he turned to reenter the warehouse, the young man called him back.

          “Whoa, whoa there.  What did you mean by ‘He likes to play with the electricity?’  Who does?” 

          “The Electrical Man,” the janitor replied matter-of-factly, as if it were common knowledge.  “Surely you know of him?”

          The three employees all said they hadn’t.  Joyce felt goosebumps.  The young lady, clearly very sensitive, shivered. 

          “His name is William Place.  His physical body left this world decades ago when the building down the street was a prison.  He was the first man electrocuted.  Three tries but he wouldn’t die.  Each time the generator had to recharge.  His skin had melted by the fourth attempt.  The generator exploded and all the lights on the block went out.  Some reports said William Place had disappeared when they came back on.  So, he hates the electricity, you see? When he comes back, he makes all the lights go out.” 

          “When he comes back?” the young man asked rhetorically.  “Are you saying the ghost of William Place haunts this building?” 

          Alfred smiled.  “When the lights flicker, I always think, ‘He's come back to visit.'" 

          The air in the room felt leaden.  A small clock on one of the work stations pinged twice. 

          “Ooh, that’s for me,” Alfred said.  “My time is over now.  Goodbye.”  With a smile, he steered the wheeled bucket by the mop handle back into the warehouse.  The office stayed silent for several seconds before the young man spoke. 

          “Like I was saying, ‘What kind of business is this?’  How many weirdos do you have around here?” 

          The question snapped Joyce out of a kind of trance. 

“I’ve never seen that man before,” she replied, her voice trailing.  Her sense of her frightened mood made her angry.  She continued: 

“We don’t have ‘weirdos’ around here, George.  I’ve never seen the man before but I normally don’t work third shift.  He’s just a man that cleans up around here, obviously.” 

“I don’t like people with those kinds of stories,” George said with irritation.  “I don’t like creeps or creep stories.  Life is logical and real.  There aren’t any ghosts in it.” 

          Joyce looked to Martha and saw her trembling. 

          “Did the man scare you, dear?” Joyce asked. 

          “I don’t think I’m supposed to be here,” Martha whispered. 

          “I still wonder what kind of place this is,” George said with contempt. 

          Joyce angrily brushed off his comment, dug some change out of her purse, rose and approached the young woman, who looked up at her with dancing eyes. 

          “Here, sweetheart,” Joyce said.  “Why don’t you go to the cafeteria and get us some sodas.  George, what would you like?”

          “Nothing.  I don’t drink soda,” he said dryly, staring at her computer screen as he pressed buttons on her keyboard. 

          “I’ll take a Coca-Cola,” Joyce said tenderly to the young woman.  “You get whatever you want.” 

          With a disconcerted nod, the girl rose and left the room for the cafeteria. 

          “You could be nice, you know,” Joyce said to George rhetorically.  "The man clearly unnerved her,”

          “I have no time for nonsense,” he said, still looking at her computer screen and pressing keys.  “If she has no nerve, that’s her problem.”

          Joyce had had enough of George the computer expert but she resolved to get along until the shift was over.  The clock read 2:15 AM.  Three hours and forty-five minutes and she would meet the 6 AM morning crew before going home.  It couldn’t come fast enough.  She looked at the fake spiders.  Did one of them just move?  The lights began to flicker again.  

          An ear shattering scream from the cafeteria made her jump.  She looked at George, who had also jumped and seemed very irritated he had.  Joyce ran towards the cafeteria and froze when she saw Martha sprinting towards her, bathed in a sea of lights flickering like an electrical storm.  She barely dodged in time as the girl ran past towards the office and into the warehouse as Joyce followed. 

          “Martha!  Stop!” she shouted uselessly.  The warehouse was between the office and the elevator which is where the girl, who proved too fast for Joyce, was running towards.  She had nearly reached her destination when the lights went out.  Joyce froze again.  Largely unfamiliar with the warehouse’s layout, she quickly convinced herself it was folly to run around with the lights off.  Deep down, she was terrified.  What was happening?  Why had the girl screamed? 

          The lights came back on and Joyce saw she was alone.  She whipped her head around looking for the girl then jogged lightly towards the elevator.  Nothing.  The elevator made a ping sound when opening.  Joyce had heard no sound.  The warehouse was cavernous.  Had Martha gotten confused in the dark?  Was she still in the warehouse?  Joyce walked back to the office and found George still working at her computer. 

          “Did Martha come back in here?” she asked.  He didn’t answer, as if she wasn’t there. 

          “Hey, George!” she said, snapping her fingers impatiently.  “Did Martha come back through here?”

          He turned his attention towards her and said, eyes rolling towards the ceiling, “I think I do know what kind of place this is now.”  He nodded to himself and went back to work.  For the first time, Joyce felt the surreal nature of the situation.  She opened her mouth to speak again but no words formed in her mind.  She felt the need to walk up and touch George but didn’t.  Where was that janitor?  He must have left.  He did say his time was over.  Surely...surely, she would have heard the elevator ping for him, too...  

          Rousing her courage, she resolved to search the warehouse.  She took care of the easy things first, a quick look behind the cardboard box crusher and a scan of the assembly lines calling "Martha" at various intervals.  An unidentified sound at the other end of the warehouse nearly made her scream.  The resulting silence felt like a panic.  After a minute, she began breathing deeply again.  
        "Just something slipping off a shelf," she convinced herself.  "Probably happens all the time."  
        Regathering her nerve, she continued with the search.  Next was the large area with the metal merchandise trees, a dead forest of steel barely visible in the darkness.  In the distance, a small light crackled next to an old, dusty unused storage room.  She couldn't stop her mind from spinning.  How many monsters have come out of those kinds of places in movies?  How many people that meet them are never seen again?  The size of the place pressed down upon her, the large swaths of darkness weighing heavily.  She stepped towards the storeroom.  The light barely shone, almost imperceptible. Too frightened to speak, she quickly backpedaled, fast walking to the center of the warehouse where the large, industrial lights on the ceiling still shone.  No, the girl wasn't there.  She clearly wasn't there.  Joyce crossed to the design staff’s office.  Pausing at the entrance way, she saw the white outline of store mannequins.  She tried to call Martha’s name but her throat could only reflexively spasm with no words.  A rustle.  One mannequin head seemed to turn.  Another smiled.  Another took a step…

          No!  Stumbling back, angered by her imagination playing tricks, she committed to searching the last hidden place.  Maybe Martha was hurt and couldn’t speak.  Maybe Joyce just wanted to prove to herself nothing supernatural was happening.  Maybe she should call for Alfred, too...

        Two rows of storage materials, tucked away and dark even when the lights in the rest of the warehouse were on, were last.  Used to the office activity of the day shift, the silence and the darkness seemed a tomb, like she’d reached the end of her life and all that awaited was the grave.  She took small steps down the first row.  Different sizes of merchandise bags stuffed the shelves.  A moldy smell caused her to recoil slightly.  Yet another rustle in the next row made her freeze.  Her heart thudded and her eyes bulged.  Her body leaned slightly forward.  The industrial lights seemed to groan then one exploded. Joyce screamed.  She ran out of the warehouse to the light of the office. 

          In a near whisper, she called for George but got no reply.  The room was empty.  With desperate energy, she did a running search of the the cafeteria and bathroom. Nothing.  George had vanished.  They'd all vanished.  The horror that she was all alone seized her like a shower of freezing water.  Her stomach plunged as she resisted the strong urge to fall to the floor.  The lights flickered on and off in the same electrical storm that had consumed Martha.  It was him!  The Electrical Man!  He was coming!  
     With the energy of pure terror, she ran as fast as she could through the office, knocking over two chairs in her path, into the warehouse and then to the lit elevator room.  In the distance, she saw the flickering office lights go out.  The  warehouse lights began flickering like mad then went out one by one.  Now crying uncontrollably, she slammed her hand against the elevator button then pounded on the closed doors. 

          “Help!  Help!” she shrieked.  The light in the elevator room began to flicker, all around nearly pitch black.  The light dimmed to its lowest level…

          Joyce heard the ping sound and the elevator doors opened.  She tumbled in and frantically pushed the button to close the doors.  The light in the room went out, only the light in the elevator staying on. The darkness reached for her...  

          As if by a miracle, the doors shut and the elevator began it’s descent.  She grabbed her head with both hands as hard as she could and slumped to the ground.  The elevator reached the first floor but the doors didn’t open.  The ping didn't sound.  The light in the elevator flickered…then went out. 

          At 6 AM, two of Joyce’s first shift co-workers, surprised she hadn’t met them at the door as planned, turned off the outside alarm and entered the building.  They turned on the hallway lights, which shone without a glitch. Walking to the elevator, one of the women pressed the button.  The doors opened with a ping.  Into the empty elevator they stepped. 

The Mentally Ill and America

The next step in American legislation needs to be a full battery of psychological tests from different doctors for all American political candidates to identify any mental illnesses or personality disorders in said candidates.

As we with mental illnesses are our own distinct community and often not capable of fulfilling any kind of Democratic or Republican "responsibilities," our health and welfare also needs to be provided for and protected directly in the Constitution.

"The Roman and the Celtic Woman" - An Erotic Short Story

        In the early days of the Roman Empire, men didn't love women.  They didn't love women during the Republic, either, but, in the chaos that ended that Republic, the Res Publica, and began the Empire, love was as unimportant to Roman men as sex was merely tolerable.  Powerful Romans could play as they wished but the common Roman soldier, the driving force behind the conquests of "barbarian" Celts across Europe, could not.  The grandeur of Rome was established on their military might, their duty, responsibility, fighting spirit, self-discipline and self-denial.  "Roman stoicism" was aptly coined for emotions and lusts, the "passions," were greatly frowned upon by a people that conquered and ruled Europe to the Holy Land by ruthless efficiency.  Roman men were military killers, detesting softness, rejecting affection, and avoiding satisfying their appetites.  They did not love.

        Roman women did not love Romen men.  If they loved at all, they loved their men's commitments to duty, responsibility, self-discipline and self-denial.  Romen women were rigorously taught to subordinate feelings for the cold logic of procreation and domestic cultivation.  They ruled over the home like their men ruled over Europe, producing as many children as possible; hopefully, as many male children as possible to add to future military rolls.  Humility, chastity apart from procreation and disciplined dignity were their stations in life.  Feeling and expressing love weakened Rome's male dominated culture.  Women kept their men strong.  They did not provide pleasure. They did not provide love.  

        In the year 17 BC, the territory of Hispania, modern Spain, had largely been subjugated after bitter fighting by the Romans and native Celts over a 200 year period.  The Celts of Hispania, a collection of different tribal groups, fought long and hard for their freedom against the imperialist aspirations of mighty Rome.  Of all the peoples of Europe, they had the greatest reputation as the fiercest, most vicious fighters with the Cantabrian tribe being considered the best of the best.  A savage, untamable mountain people, they were noted for their guerilla attacks and, more notably, their practice of allowing their women to fight.  The very definition of a swarthy, native people, Cantabrian men made sure their women, like many European Celts, were both admired and feared by the Romans for their tall frames and ability to fight as fiercely as they did.  The Romans considered women fighting men to be a perversion but the strong Celtic women could not, and would not, shirk from defending themselves and their families.  They fought with their emotions and their passions.  A starker contradiction between the sides couldn't be.  The Cantabrians fought so fiercely a rare edict was decreed:  No prisoners were to be taken.  All Cantabrians were to be killed.  

        Aurelius Decimus Crispus, Praefectus Castrorum (Camp Prefect) of Emperor Augustus Caesar's 4th Legion of Macedonica, perfectly fit the Roman definition of a noble, disciplined, self-sacrificing soldier.  A man of ignoble birth but possessing great courage and nerves of steel, he quickly rose through the military ranks from infantryman to Centurion to Praefectus Castrorum by age 35, a tremendous achievement in the Roman military.  A strikingly handsome, "pure blooded" Roman from Alba Longa, the town of Caesar's birth, Aurelius Crispus lived up to the meaning of his surname "Crispus" by having thick, curly, brown hair with an occasional wisp of gray, a lean, rock hard body forged through combat, exercise and dietary restrictions and a potent masculinity that drew the attention and respect of his fellow soldiers and made him a natural leader.  His chiseled face featured a hard though not prominent nose, sharp cheekbones and a strong jawline.  

        A man of great Roman character, Aurelius Crispus eschewed lustful sexuality and displays of passionate emotion.  A Roman commander's job was to be like a respected father to his men, a leader by example, and not one given to the selfish pursuits and satisfactions of one's own appetites.  He had a beautiful wife at home with the perfect Roman female characteristics of humility and dignity and had sired two daughters and a son, all three ideal examples of Roman children.  All were respected.  All was perfect.  

        The set pieces were perfect.  The front was perfect.  The image was perfect.  He had truly attained all a noble Roman could attain, all that he desired except...desire.  Violence had always displaced sexual passion and now violence had been displaced by boredom.  The frontier in Hispana had largely been won and Aurelius's days consisted mostly of reports of routine inspections by his men.  He desperately needed something, anything, to happen.
       A recent spate of attacks on his camp's northern border sparked Aurelius's instincts for the possibility of fresh excitement.  Though completely unnecessary, he'd taken to inspecting the perimeter personally in the hopes of  witnessing another pitiful, easily repulsed assault by the decimated Celts and, even more hopefully, taking part in their further decimation.  Reports from his soldiers of more and more Celtic women fighting in place of their dead male partners made it even more irresistible.  Roman accounts of wild, strong, aggressive barbarian women on the frontiers were infamous throughout the Roman world but Aurelius had never personally witnessed them in battle.  What were they really like?  Did they fight naked like their men often did?  Did the women in Hispania have the long red hair of other northern Celts?  Did they have large breasts unlike most Roman women?  Did they fight with that animal passion that often borders on sexual ecstasy? The possibilities sent pleasurable sensations cascading through his mind and body and he could barely control the enthusiasm his inspections produced.
        His wish was finally granted one day near dusk.  As he routinely walked the long length of the stone wall that fortified the northern portion of the camp, arrows and dozens of rocks from slings came flying over the walls at a section perfectly in between two guard towers.  Aurelius rushed to the point of activity, his short sword called a gladius in hand, as Roman soldiers gathered, their shields mostly blocking the enemy fire with the occasional legionnaire wounded  Crude ladders slammed up against the stonewall in numerous places and several Celtic warriors, through attrition, came over the walls into the Roman camp.  Most were killed almost instantly by Roman spears but some penetrated deeper into the compound.  Aurelius killed two male Celts then noticed with amazement and excitement a small group of Celtic women, indeed fighting naked, attempting to come over the wall at different ladder points, shrieking and screaming like Banshees as they came.  Knowing no chivalry, Roman spears mowed down most of them but one, in particular, caught Aurelius's eye as she scaled down the wall into the camp. A Venus smeared with mud, long, jet black hair evident, large breasts with nipples hard in the excitement, she represented everything he had dreamed of in a barbarian woman: Animal poetry in motion, elegant, strongly definable feminine curves shifting to maintain the balance of the wide hips and supple legs on her powerful body as she moved.  Frozen to the spot, he watched as she approached a fallen Roman soldier stunned by a slinged rock and slashed at him with a dagger she carried, inflicting cuts on the man's arms. legs, head and groin.  Mesmerized, Aurelius couldn't help as the man, probably dead, stopped moving.  Seeing Aurelius and marshalling her courage, the female warrior wailed like a vengeful spirit and charged toward the Roman Prefect who, finally snapping out of his hypnosis, raised his sword to meet her.  A proud, desperate woman with only her life to lose, not caring about her safety, every bit of energy throbbing for survival, she flew upon him, the only acceptable result of their combat being the death of one of them.  Attacking with all her fury, she slashed at him wildly from head to toe.  Blocking her attempts, he let her get as close as was safe, smelling her scent, unable to see his sword as anything other than his penis under the intoxicating assault of this amazing, ravishing creature, her grunts and exertions triggering his hard muscles in a brand new experience: Erotic combat.  As her energy failed, her grunts came closer to whimpers and his heart went out to her, his arms wanting to embrace her, to hold her and comfort her, to ravish her and allow her to ravish him.  Exhausted, she dropped the dagger and went to her knees, gasping heavily.  Unable and unwilling to land a killing blow, Aurelius turned his attention to the rest of the battle.   The sun had fallen swiftly and his men had lit torches to illuminate the night.  Aurelius saw with satisfaction that his soldiers stood in a commanding position, dead male and female Celts littering the compound joined only by the occasional Roman.  A Centurion approached and asked Aurelius if they should pursue the Celts beyond their fortifications, to which Aurelius replied in the negative.  Noticing the Celtic woman now slowly getting to her feet, the soldier raised his sword to strike her down but was met with the sword of Aurelius which stopped him.
        "No! Haec femina captivus est. Igitur placet mihi ut interrogaret de hoc habiturum. Semitam meam veniant." he said in Latin, the translation being: "No! This woman is my prisoner.  I intend to question her about this raid.  Bring her to my quarters."  The Centurion, knowing his Camp Prefect to be fluent in the dialects of the local Celts, thought nothing of it as he took hold of the woman, who began kicking and screaming with renewed energy.  Aurelius smacked her hard in the face, stunning her enough to make the trip to his double sized tent.
        After placing her, still woozy, on a stool next to a rudimentary vanity with mirror used for basic grooming, the Centurion, ordered by Aurelius, left the tent then returned a few minutes later with two large buckets of scalding hot water, which he put near Aurelius's bath, before exiting again and returning with a bucket of dirt and earth which he placed just inside the tent entrance.   Aurelius told the man: "Resumere post te.  Ut non moveretur (Resume your post.  I am not to be disturbed.)"  The Centurion left the tent with a nod, closing the opening on his way out.
        Aurelius Decimus Crispus wanted sex; strong, perhaps even violent sex.  The woman covered her crotch, eyes wide, as he slowly removed his clothes until both were naked.  She stood and began to backpedal as he smoothly approached like a great panther, she a mouse in a trap, her left hand over her crotch, her right hand over her breasts.  He breathed in her animal scent deeply, disregarding the impact of her fear though ever more excited by how it agitated her, her energy drawing his like a magnet.  His penis began to swell as he grabbed her strongly by the shoulders, trying to provoke an aggressive reaction, which succeeded.  Her savage, warrior blood taking over, her fear displaced, she wriggled free of his grip and returned the slap he had given her earlier followed by several more.  Aurelius, near ecstatic with excitement, deflected her blows, backing up to his large bunk bed as she continued her attack, pulling her to him as he flopped back onto the soft cushion, locking her arms to her side with his powerful biceps as she struggled like a wildcat.  She scratched at his sides with her fingernails as he forcefully kissed her on the lips.  She responded by chomping at him with her teeth as he pulled his face back just in time.  He clamped his mouth onto her neck and sucked as hard as he could, his tongue licking her neck in little, quick circles.  Her vagina spasmed reflexively; as she dropped her guard for a moment, he unlocked his grip, still maintaining control, and squeezed her butt with his right hand while moving his left hand to her upper back. rubbing it smoothly and strongly.  Her arms flexed and her hands went stiff as pleasure rocketed up her spine, unable to prevent this powerful man from taking advantage of her.  Realizing this to be what the man wanted and that he would perhaps release her when he got it, she stopped resisting, locking her mouth onto his and finding his tongue with hers as he let her arms free and hugged her back with all his might, her left leg moving up and straddling his upper body as her right leg fully extended.  She inserted his penis into her vagina with her left hand and squeezed down onto it with her inner thighs.  He let her control their movements, relishing the submissiveness he had never known before as she grabbed and fondled his hard chest with both hands while moving her hips in a variety of motions, moving his penis around at her will.  He held himself off as long as he could, completely at the mercy of this physical goddess, his mind engrossed in the idea of the female savage, an animal attacking the gates of the Empire, a defeat he joyfully accepted.  She locked her hips as she stared into his eyes and he ejaculated, sending fluid jetting into her body.  She sucked at his chin and nibbled it, breathing in his intense masculinity while pulling his hair as his rapid breathing began to ebb, smiling as he came down.  Looking deeply into her wide blue eyes, he knew what love was.  How could one not love this ravishing creature, dirt still clinging to parts of her body, every pore oozing female strength, vitality and life?  Now he knew why Roman soldiers were made to eschew sexual pleasure for, in that moment, he would have done anything for her.  Who cared about maintaining an Empire when there were females like this to make love to?
        He'd wanted sex.  Now he needed love, needed it to flesh out his experience fully, to know what romance beyond the sex act truly was.  He motioned to his partner to get off him; she did, standing in suspense, still a filthy mess, both with dirt and now sweat and small amounts of semen from Aurelius's penis.  Rising, he went to the two buckets of still very warm water, picked them up and poured the contents of both into his large bath.  He grabbed a large bottle of olive oil from a table as she again covered up instinctively.  He brushed her hands away with a smile, poured a generous amount of olive oil in both hands and proceeded to rub the oil all over her body, a precursor to cleaning in the Roman world.  He rubbed the oil over her beautiful breasts, quickly bringing her back to an aroused state.  He oiled her vagina, moving across it in gentle, smooth strokes that elicited barely audible moans from her mouth, her lower lip curled deeply under her teeth as pleasurable sensations swirled through her in waves.  He had had his orgasm.  Now he greatly wanted to bring her hers. 
        Once finished, he picked up a cleaning tool called a strigil, a kind of scraper that removed the olive oil and any grime or mud on the body with it.  Taking her by his free hand, he moved her to the bath, laid in it first and gently pulled her on top of him, her back on his stomach, the back of her head on his chest.  Both revelled in the relaxing warm water, their bodies still fully aware of the physical exertion of the day, both in war and sex.  He gripped her left breast with his left hand as he used the strigil to gently scrape off the olive oil on her right side, stopping to wash the strigil in the water after each turn, kissing her on the side of her head and neck as he worked, taking extreme care to remove the olive oil from the right side of her face with the coarse tips of his lingering fingers, allowing her to occasionally suck on them.  She took his left hand in her right, interlocking their fingers, lost in the moment, her fear unimportant as he pleasured her.  After repeating the process on the other side, he dropped the strigil to the ground, reached both hands over her hips and massaged her vagina with both sets of fingers, inserting a finger of his right hand and massaging her inner walls while rubbing her labia and clitoris with the fingertips of his left.  She moaned in increasing intensities, reaching back with her right hand to grab his hair while pressing her left hand over his to increase the motion.  He clenched her vagina with his left hand and put his right hand over her mouth as she orgasmed, taking care that none of the soldiers on duty heard it.  Her body bucked then slowly relaxed as she turned over on top of him.  They kissed passionately, two people, not savage nor civilized, only a man and woman, two human beings in time, one, in desperation, serving the needs of the other who couldn't help feeling intense admiration and affection for her, the physical satisfaction of the moment compensating for a lifetime of staid, emotionless moments in service to his country.
        After several minutes of embrace passed, he motioned for her to leave the bath and followed after she rose.  As she stretched with proud, feminine elation, he looked to his clothes on a nearby stool and at his pugio, a holstered dagger, dangling from his belt.  All Cantabrians were to be killed and Aurelius Decimus Crispus, distinguished officer of Augustus Caesar's peerless 4th Legion of Macedonica, father and husband, noble Roman in every respect, had never had any intention of letting the Celtic woman he'd taken to his bed and bath leave his tent alive.  After he'd had his pleasure, which included the bath, he'd planned on using the bucket of earth to cake on the woman after he'd killed her under the pretense that the filthy barbarian had attacked him under questioning.  All neat and clean and no one would ever know.  He stepped to his clothes, the Celtic woman unaware of his eyes on the thick, sharp pugio.  Inches from taking the weapon in hand, he stopped.  He looked to her, this amazing woman whose people had been all but exterminated by Roman might, his might, yet faced death and fought like a tigress as well as any man, faced him as well as any man on the field of battle, and loved him as well as he imagined any woman could.  She smiled nervously, hoping for a positive next step from Aurelius.  He breathed deeply and frowned, unable to follow through on his plan but uncertain how to smuggle her out of camp. 
        "Nescio quo modo me liberare de castris in zelo meo et immolabo et si necesse fuerit ut (I do not know how to free you from this camp but I, on my honor, will sacrifice myself if need be to make it so)," he said to her.  Near tears, she embraced him and he returned it.  He loved her.  Stupidly, he loved her, a development he could not have envisioned.  Duty fails with love.  Empires fall from love.  Would Aurelius Decimus Crispus fall the same way?  He looked to the bucket of earth.  He would cake the mud on as when she entered, hiding their lovemaking as best he could, then try to find some way to honor her his promise of freedom. 
       

Thank you for reading.  All comments are welcome.