Craving Beauty - Where To Turn When Naked People Having Sex (Internet Porn) Is Off-Limits To Your Eyeballs

If you only see smut as simply wretchedness whose sole purpose is to usher your mind towards the fires of hell, you're over simplifying.

Sex was created by God, and this is not in Satan's best interest for us to remember.

Man / woman was created by God as image bearers of God himself, and this too is not in Satan's best interest for us to remember.

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One of the primary similarities between my Silas and I is our tendency to gravitate towards high-caliber beauty.  And taking the purview of Samson Society into consideration, this primarily (for our contextual purposes) pertains to smut.  Therefore, for he and I, we're likely going to be far more interested in top-tier sources of smut than anything minutely smitten with the aroma of homebrew, naked-people-next-door porn.

Why is this?

Because we're super intelligent, sophisticated gents.  That's why.

No.  I'm only kidding.  It's just the way we're wired.  But it's cool nonetheless, having this similarity.

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Last week, the Turners spent our Spring Break in Sandestin, FL.  We've had the good fortune of visiting there many times in the past, but what was different this time around was our exact condo location relative to the beach.  Due to last week's adjacency to the white sands, we spent more time than ever before either in the crystal clear Gulf waters or enjoying the sugary sand.  The weather was stellar for March, and overall, it was a wonderful vacation. 

As an aside, as you know, I'm an architect.  And I'm also an automobile aficionado.  It's important that you know that going forward.

For a number of years now, I've admired a beachfront condominium in Destin that truly is an architectural landmark.  It's a standout for sure relative to the daring design language used.  Plus, it also has retro appeal - to a degree, though the design is so strong that the building really cannot be pigeonholed as simply "retro".

This multi-story condominium building looks unlike anything in Destin / Fort Walton.  And this is due to the daring design which had to have pushed the budget far beyond its milquetoast context (row after row of ubiquitous multi-story condominium buildings).

Taking that into consideration, one of the first things I took note of from our tenth floor Sandestin condominium balcony view was the profile of this architectural gem in the far distance - looking westward down the beach.  It was a ways away, but indisputable.  And this excited me greatly.

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Immediately upon our return to the Jackson Metro after my job loss from Delta State University (for breaking the institution's IT policy), I made an appointment to see a therapist who I'd heard speak a number of times at local gatherings of men.  These few sessions with him started in late '13 and ended sometime in early '14 (he wasn't a good fit for Rob).  Nonetheless, one of his insights in hearing my story consisted of me needing a creative outlet to counterbalance working at my family's insurance / financial services business.  He was obviously taking my background in architecture into account, and this was no doubt low hanging fruit for him to consider / throw out.

What he failed to realize though is just how much Internet porn I consumed whilst working within local architecture firms - day after day after day - for hours on end.  And mostly the same type of material.  As if I truly had a bottomless pit within my mind for these strikingly beautiful images / videos.  

It was almost as if simply working within a very creative industry amplified my craving for this smut.

Isn't that weird?  Or maybe it isn't.  Maybe it's reality.  For I knew of a number of other creative types who were similarly "right brain moonlighting" just as I was there on my employer's dime.

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So, as you might have guessed, I did make my way down to the Edgewater Condominium building, following the beach due west to my destination.  It was a somewhat distant journey, trudging through the sand, but well worth it - both times.  In fact, the second time I paid the actual building an exploratory visit by walking right into the lobby, making my way upwards in order to walk some of the perimeter corridors along the west elevation.  From there, it was simple to understand the floor plan.  And I loved what I was experiencing.  It was inspiring and so very beautifully executed.  Hence, my appreciation for this gem was furthered along exponentially, and these steal aways became Rob's trip highlights.

As an architect experiencing a new building like this one (that's not a design commodity), it's akin to reading a few select chapters from a fellow author's novel - with great intent and respect - versus flipping through someone's mass produced romance story out of boredom.

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Did any of you take any of those "appreciation" classes in college in order to obtain an easy credit or two?  I distinctly remember one of these being offered within the School of Architecture, and as you might imagine, it was NOT AT ALL part of the architecture students' (mine) curriculum track.

Looking at high production images of beautiful naked people having sex is akin to a sexuality curriculum.  A curriculum that's laser focused on a topic that I'm so not fluent in yet want very much to be degreed in.  

But, this methodology, though so very convenient and culturally relevant, isn't an option for me any longer.  Too many people get hurt on the other side of the camera lens.  Plus, I waste too much time consuming imagery that regales sinful behavior.  And sinful behavior I'm called to avoid as a Christian.  No matter how alluring.  Beautiful.  Compelling.  

But it's freaking hard.  Even today, I could so easily jump right back in.  Jesus help me to resist by turning my attention to other sources of beauty / inspiration.  Sources that make a positive impact on my psyche.

Reruns 'till '21

The month of December is my busiest at work and on the home front.  That fact, plus my being slated to take yet another securities exam on (12/31), is why I'm sending our blog out to pasture 'till 2021.  

I believe I've posted far more this year than last, therefore if you simply can't wait for my freshly minted posts to return in January, there's always re-reads...

Be encouraged men to continue following The Path.  Even throughout the holidays.

Commit To Pray For the "P"s

Politicians and pastors both run headlong everyday in and through the shadow of their predecessors.  Their presence in our lives is not extemporaneous for they serve pivotal roles within our culture, and as such, our God should hear from us often on their behalf.  

Politicians make policies which guide our every day lives and pastors serve most all of us during those critical moments when we need them the most (death, birth, marriage, and so forth).  

Each of us harbor a concept of these two individuals.  It can be heavily based on previous exposure to others in their steed or simply our beliefs relative to what each represents to us.  

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Our senior pastor this AM admitted to the redundancy he's up against during this Xmas season relative to his sermons.  Plus, he's simply a textbook extravert, and therefore is sick and tired of all this pandemic safeguarding.  He and his fam have been at our church for +/-4 years now which means he's definitely "hit his stride".  Plus, he's sitting right square in the throes of middle-age with kidlets who're anticipating flying the coop.  He's the kind of guy who, like almost every other pastor I've known, loves to be heard, with no mouth fatigue in sight.  

I really found my respect for pastors well before I became involved in Samson Society.  Namely for their flexibility and resourcefulness.  Not to mention the constant demands they're under to serve whomever shows up on their doorstep.  

I'm convicted during this Xmas season and beyond to pray for both of these.  Their roles are huge, and there's no doubt they'll be blessed knowing my prayers (as with all prayers) will be heard on their behalf.

[REPRINT] - 2020 Lakeside Presbyterian Church Advent Book Excerpt

 Growing Faith

"Count it all joy, my brothers, when you meet trials of various kinds, for you know that the testing of your faith produces steadfastness.  And let steadfastness have its full effect, that you may be perfect and complete, lacking in nothing."  James 1:2-4

What a year 2020 has been!  I don't think I could have imagined a national shutdown, a pandemic, or the possibility of having a stroke if someone told me last year that those things were coming.  As far as I was concerned last November, life in the Turner home was rocking and rolling along just fine with kids, church, work, school, and extracurricular activities.  During the spring quarantine, our family enjoyed spending time together outdoors, playing board games, watching movies, and being still & quiet amidst the pandemic.  Now that I look back on those two months, I am eternally grateful for them.  Even though we didn't know it then, God was preparing us for a life-changing event.

One the morning of May 29, I had a stroke that affected the left side of my body.  From the moment it started, God's presence was real.  He worked out every detail in his perfect timing.  I have struggled with anxiety for a long time, especially anxiety related to my health.  But for the first time, I was not anxious that day - even riding in an ambulance down Lakeland Drive!  It was amazing & surreal!  God covered me with a blanket of peace and told me that he would never leave me.  I knew without a doubt that He was there.  I didn't know what the outcome would be, but God did.  He reminded me moment by moment to rest in Him because He already had it all figured out.  He also assured me that He would be glorified through this situation.  I was just along for the ride.  His peace was all I needed.  When my human nature wandered from those truths, He gently showed me that He hadn't left me.  Exodus 14:4 became one of my favorite verses:  "The Lord will fight for you, and you have only to be silent."  There have been good days and hard days since May 29 as well as lots of hard work at therapy.  God continues to teach me to rest in him and trust His perfect plan.  And now, almost 5 months later, I can go to a doctor's appointment (& there are many!) without getting anxious even when there aren't clear answers for what's happened.  Never in a million years would I have thought that possible!  I look forward with anticipation to watching God's plan continue to unfold.  

This advent season, I challenge you to focus on God's continued presence and work in your life, despite what is going on in the world around us.  Immanuel - God is with us.  That is a truth that never changes.  He is worthy of our thanksgiving and our praise.  He allows suffering to come into our lives to ultimately bring us more contentment in Him and be less reliant on ourselves and the things of this world.  If it were up to me, I wouldn't have chosen to have a stroke and possibly have a physical handicap for the rest of my days on earth.  But far greater than that, I am so very thankful to God for walking this road with us and using this suffering to grow my family's faith.  We serve an awesome God!  To Him be the glory forever & ever, amen!

Angie Turner

Value Should Never Have Been Equated To Sexiness

Pubescent hormones and our own innate draw towards the visual make for easy fodder when it comes to sex appeal.  As children, we're indoctrinated (I realize it's a strong word) into equating value with sex appeal, sexiness, youthfulness, and so forth.  But Christianity banks nothing on these things.  Hotness isn't a fruit of the Spirit, and Jesus didn't parade around attempting to bed as many individuals as he could relative to his singleness.

The Bible speaks out against fornication and adultery as well as homosexuality.  No, no, and no again.  And Jesus addressed lust specifically as out of sync with God's will.

As Christians, our / other's personal value is always discounted in light of Christ.  This is back-assward to what our culture celebrates.  Hence, it should be Jesusbook in lieu of Facebook.

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How do we know / come to know this Jesus?

Scripture firstly, and from there via the Holy Spirit living inside of us and other believers.  These things combined results in solid teaching and preaching.

What draws us towards Jesus?

Life circumstance with a heavy emphasis on suffering because his appeal isn't and never has been cheap (it will cost you everything).

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To continue forward with that last sentence, when men face a circumstantial reckoning, it's then that Jesus may come into clear focus.  For example, via sickness or personal trials.  Christ's life is clearly documented within the gospels, and we're called to emulate him via the example he set.  

But it sure ain't no glamorous existence.

Just ask the apostle Paul.  

Yet, Paul wrote his letter to the Philippians as if he'd just won the lottery and had the best sex of his life, all in anticipation of either dying and being with Christ or living and continuing to represent Christ.  His rejoicing within that correspondence is over the top! 

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I want to encourage you today to not Lolli gaggle around for a portend.  Misplaced value is a huge problem in our western culture.  Instead, open God's word today.  If you don't know where to start, start with the gospel of Mark, and from there ween yourself off of any and all cultural venues that do not put the emphasis on Jesus Christ (which is all of them).  

A 16 Year Old's Endorsement Is a Noteworthy Endorsement (posted with her permission)

Caroline Turner
Mrs. Christian
English 1113/A1

12 December 2019

The Best Christmas Pageant Ever

One of my family’s special Christmas traditions is reading The Best Christmas Pageant Ever.  Every year my dad gathers us around the fire and begins reading us the classic story.  The story follows the six Herdman children as they accidentally get mixed up in a church Christmas pageant.  They were known as the meanest kids the town had ever seen.  After a change of heart, the Herdmans learn the true meaning of Christmas and pull off a successful pageant.  The story means a lot to me because it made the Christmas story make sense.  It emphasizes how real and sacred Jesus’ birth really was.  The true meaning of Christmas is not the presents or the tree but the Saviour that was born in Bethlehem.

Since I was a little girl, I have probably heard the Christmas story a thousand times.  They teach the kids about it in Sunday school the same way every year.  The story had always gone in one ear and out the other for me.  I cared more about the presents and the pretty decorations.  I knew the Christmas story was true, but I did not believe it fully in my heart.  It was not until my dad introduced me to The Best Christmas Pageant Ever.

“It’s finally here!”, I screamed.  My sister and I jumped around the house excitedly.  It was Christmas Eve and we knew we would be opening up our presents after a short night's sleep.  I sat below the tree and stared up into the twinkling lights and shiny ornaments.  I could not wait any longer.  “Caroline? Anna? Come sit down in the living room.” my dad called.  I jumped up and ran to take my seat.  I knew that we would finish The Best Christmas Pageant Ever tonight.  The last chapter was always read on Christmas Eve.  There are only seven chapters in the book, so my dad would space them out evenly throughout the month of December.  Once silence fell over the room, my dad began reading.

I stared intensely at my dad as he read.  I tried to follow his eyes on the pages of the book.  The book is full of funny jokes and humor.  My family and I would break out in laughter at every joke.  As we approached the end of the chapter, my dad’s reading began to slow down.  The last chapter of the book took him on an emotional rollercoaster.  As he read, his eyes began to get watery and his lips started to quiver.  He began to choke but finally spit out the last line, “Hey! Unto you a child is born!”  That is when it hit me.  My whole life I had been missing what Christmas is all about.  Jesus’ birth was not all smiley and rainbows like most people think.  Jesus was born on a cold winter’s night in a stable.  They did not have warm blankets or even a bed for Jesus to sleep in.  Jesus is what Christmas is all about.  The gifts, food, and decorations are important, but cannot compare to the birth of my Saviour.

After my dad finished reading, he asked, “What was your favorite part of the book Caroline?”  I took a few seconds to think and then replied, “When the Herdmans finally realize that Christmas is not what they had thought.  That it is much more than it seems.”  My family and I sat around the living room in awe of the story.  “The story hits a little harder every year.”, my mom said.  I agreed, “I never knew how surreal the birth of Jesus was.  Now I see it from a different point of view.”

I went to bed that night wide awake.  I stared into my dark room while my head spun.  I could not stop thinking about the Herdman’s story.  Everything I knew about the Christmas story was wrong.  Seeing it from a different perspective opened up my eyes.  “It must have been awful. Jesus and his family had nothing. I mean his bed was literally a feeding trough!”  I could not believe it.  I almost felt sorry for them.  I laid in bed with a hundred thoughts running through my head.  I felt inspired and thankful for what Jesus has done for me.  The Christmas story had hit me straight in the heart.  I would forever be changed.

The Holidays Can Be All About Pornography Consumption, Anonymous Sexual Encounters, Or Telephone Sex

We live in the strange age of the ubiquitous Internet, and for me, this strangeness reared its head initially with a decided impression back in the late '90s.  Angie and I had only been married for a few years.  We'd endured her terrible bouts with the mental illness of anxiety disorder and the subsequent panic attacks throughout our newlywedding.  Therefore, at this time (we were married in the mid-90s), things were beginning to settle down some as we learned to live life reasonably well as DINKS (double-income no kids).

And then this thing called the Internet showed up, thanks to a laptop she'd been issued by her employer.  It didn't take long at all for me to "take my turn" at the laptop [*wink, wink*] and get my first look at what it meant to be online, and from there, I found pornography as I'd never imagined.

Keep in mind that growing up here in Mississippi offered few, if any, opportunities to look at smut.  Know too that Angie was privy, prior to our marriage, to my obsession with porn.  She and I had traveled to NOLA on a few occasions and it was there in The Big Easy that I fessed up (at the time NOLA was one of the only reasonably close cities to Jackson where print porn was available at the magazine stands).

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When you grow up never seeing professionally shot photos of beautiful naked people posing and sexing other beautiful naked people, your life is certainly not waning in that particular "culturally necessitated" experience, but when these images are thrust upon you, particularly considering a certain season of life, its impact is not unlike the detonation of an emotional atomic bomb.  At least that's how it was for me.

Having come off of this rough initial marital season (as I described above) combined with being a massively visual individual (architect intern), I found myself helpless to combat the allure of Internet porn.  This neverending resource for smut of every ilk.  So much so, in fact, that I went to my wife (eventually) and asked specifically for help in the form of quarantine by saying, "Keep me away from your work laptop.  If you don't, the Internet will likely kill me".  And whilst looking back, there was some truth to that statement.

But that smart confession move didn't occur until I'd partook in a major binge session on the eve of Thanksgiving, and for this, I was given a regret that I'm sadly not likely to ever forget.

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Thanksgiving Eve, Angie hadn't been sleeping well and made a comment to me that she'd likely need a Tylenol PM in order to assist her that evening.  I took it upon myself to coerce her into taking two.  And I did this in order to ensure that once asleep, she'd stay that way throughout the night.

From there, I crawled out of our bed and jumped online via her laptop (which I'd discreetly left turned on) on the opposite end of our apartment.  I then binged on online images as the hours waned 'till eventually I realized dawn would soon be approaching.  And, my goodness, what a moment that was realizing I'd spent the entire night using Internet pornography, and that I'd have to face my very well rested wife (as well as her family) throughout the rest of the Thanksgiving Day.

I climbed in bed for an hour or two of sleep before being woken up by Angie at my side.  She'd slept well.  I cannot begin to describe how regrettably I attempted to go about getting prepared to Thanksgiving with all of her family.  But, I did, and life marched on.

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What came out of this binge session was threefold:

1.  I got away with it but with a sizable amount of what I've now dubbed "newlywed regret".
2.  I realized just how infinite the abyss of the Internet truly was / is.
3.  There aren't that many exceptionally beautiful people on planet Earth.  Great looking people, yes.  Exceptionally beautiful, no.  But, there are plenty of people on the planet who're willing to pose sans clothing for a salacious photo in order to make a buck.

Let's break these down in an effort to close this out.

1.  The first three to five years of marriage is a critical time relative to seeding / fertilizing the element of trust between husband / wife, and those seeds start with the individual being able to trust themselves firstly.  One of the biggest issues my wife was confronted with as she dealt with her aforementioned mental illness "outbreak" was not being able to trust herself as my wife.  Hence, she experienced intense seasons of mental anguish as she wrestled with what I'll call "wife self-doubt".  It was as if the very fabric of whom she'd set out to be as Angie Turner was coming unraveled right at the start.  I microcosmically experienced the same whilst hiding out Thanksgiving Eve in our apartment's TV room with my underwear down around my ankles.  Other new husbands might have had similar self-doubts relative to engaging in an anonymous sex encounter or paying for telephone sex, but for me, it was this deep Internet porn dive I took, behind my wife's back, that brought on these intense negative feelings.

As most new husbands (Christian or otherwise) set out to be, I wanted to be faithful through and through to my wife, and I had been, up to that point, in spite of her ongoing struggles with her mental unhealth.  But those pornographic images also opened a Pandora's Box of doubt within my own mind, and unfortunately, I became convinced that more and more exceptional was out there to be found / used.  Therefore, this pursuit in turn was far more gratifying than a newfound DINKS lifestyle situated in suburban Jackson, Mississippi.  Not to mention the unexpected season of anxiety I'd just endured with Angie.

Let me reiterate a point I mentioned earlier.  When young husbands use online porn, they're arguably doing exponentially more damage to themselves firstly, and typically they're not even realizing it.  The damage runs counter to his need to believe in himself and his ability to lead himself and his new bride as head of household.  Too, if he's honest with his spouse relative to his smut consumption, that will undoubtedly sow seeds of doubt as well from his helpmeet.  It's a very poisoning experience, yet the elixir tastes so sweet and refined.

I'm convinced a marriage lead by a husband who doubts himself internally is prone to being vulnerable to Satanic attack, and those attacks will focus on promulgating mistrust between both (& inside of) parties.

2.  When I'd used print porn, the quantity of smut was finite.  Typically, I'd hold onto the material for a few days prior to tossing it into the trash.  Of course, this is not so with Internet porn, and too, there's so many sites online where like-minded sickos put their digital smut on display in the form of blogs, etc.  Therefore, given enough time, one can connect with these, and therefore participate within a community of sinners, bound together by salicious material.  This is arguably the most destructive usage of the Internet.  Who would argue against the notion that mankind's sin nature seems to be amplified online.  The supposed anonymity ramps up this illusion, and it's terribly wicked to take part in.  No amount of warnings can proportionally make up for what's out there to "sow one's oats" within.  It is unfathomable to behold until you've seen it firsthand.

3.  My qualitative threshold for erotica is up there within the 99th percentile.  Most of this exceptionally "high-quality" material is behind a paywall, therefore that wasn't where I was interested in going (using one of our credit cards would have certainly served to expose me).  But, I absolutely LOVED THE THRILL OF THE HUNT (for "free" exceptionally high-quality porn)!  And this cannot be emphasized enough.  For years and years, I returned to the www for the sole purpose of scratching that curiosity itch.  What could I possibly find today?  This was the question that lingered and lingered within the back of my mind.

The Harsh Reality of Xmas

We live in a day and age of deeper and deeper still - personal lifestyle facades.  Facades that we work to constantly perfect to the point that we actually begin to believe they're our reality, and I suppose eventually a facade, if it ends up deep enough, will serve to replace reality itself.  Wait a minute, nope.  That's not possible.  Scratch that.

In the past, it was consumerism that fed this pursuit of lifestyle facade construction, but today, it's also social media and any / all forms of technology that serve to buttress our camouflage.

The end-of-the-year holiday season can serve to ramp up that work on said facades when in actuality, there's tremendous experiential pain going on behind the scenes.  I became aware of this as a teen right around this time of year when there presented itself a breach in my serendipitous reality one Xmas eve.  Read on.

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When I was a boy, my father spent Thursdays out of town (in the MS Delta) for business, and often wouldn't return home 'till late Thursday night.  On one particular Thursday night where he was absent from the homestead, my mother and I were spending the evening watching Christmas television programming in the den (or TV room).  The home in Madison I was reared within was +/-1,800 square feet, therefore like the abode I reside in today, a loud enough yell or scream would easily resonate throughout.  The den was on the east end of this ranch house with a "formal" living / dining room on the front (north side).  That "formal" room was always cordoned off since it was "reserved for social gatherings".

Our TV consumption was interrupted when we heard something that sounded like a knocking on our front door (which was only accessible through the living / dining room).  My mother noticed it first.  This motivated me to investigate.

I remember just as soon as I breached the "formal" part of our abode, I heard a very loud banging on our front door along with muffled cries from someone on the opposite side.  The solid core door had an arched glass window close to its head, but it was too tall to see out of.  Nor were there any windows within close proximity to peer through prior to opening the door.  I wasn't sure how to proceed so I hesitated.

I remember clearly the harsh white light streaming through that arched door window into the dark living / dining room.  The source of that light was the ground mounted PAR lamp out in front of our door.  This cheap lighting stunt was the typical suburban attempt to ring in the season by highlighting your home's Xmas entrance décor.  At this point in time, I found myself leaning against the back of the door attempting to hear more from the other side, wishing all the while that my father were home to handle this (more and more) frightening situation.

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So, I eventually opened the door, and what I witnessed changed my perception of Xmas forever.

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An athletically built white teenager was crouching on our stoop in obvious emotional and physical distress.  There was no doubt in my mind that he needed help, but in that moment, as we stared at one another, neither of us could even begin to fathom how best to clearly articulate anything of any substance.  Nonetheless, this strange teen he'd ended up at our door, and he looked to be on the run from something or someone.  And here I was peering out at him awestruck.

The next thing I remember was a station wagon coming to a screeching halt at the STOP sign in front of our house.  It slid to a stop due to the street being slick from an early evening rain.  When I attempted to take a closer look at it, despite the harsh glare of the floodlight, I made out the driver frantically exiting the vehicle right there in the street.  The man rushed around the back of the car before sprinting towards the teenage boy through our small front yard.

All the while, the boy was continuing to plead for help, but when he became aware of his impending doom, his pleas turned to stark panic.  At this point, time seemed to stand still, and I became frozen as I watched this bizarre scene unfold.

Within seconds, the man had the boy by the back of his coat, lifting him with ease off of our front stoop.  From there, he dragged him back to the station wagon prior to tossing him into the backseat.  The teenage boy went kicking and screaming all the way as the man repeatedly punched him in the head with his fist as he yelled obscenities at him.

Then I remember the car speeding away, but only after the man glared back at me right before opening the driver side door.  What little I could make out of his looking at me was a combination of both threat and satisfaction.

By now, my mother was also in our front room, standing silently not far behind.  From what I recall, she only witnessed what she could see from within the room itself.  Eventually, I turned back to her, and we found ourselves standing there in stunned silence for a few seconds wondering what exactly had just happened.

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This was no doubt a once in a lifetime event.  Madison, at the time, was countryside.  Few people lived there, and those that did were church-going, lower to lower-middle class folks.  Even today, I wonder why this boy picked our house to look for help, and of course, the greater question is why didn't I choose to respond in lieu of simply standing there like a pansy?  It would have been so easy to simply let him inside our house, locking the door behind us.  There was plenty of time for me to execute a rescue.

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My mother and I continued to look at each other without saying a word, and from there, both of us did the most shameful thing I care to admit to here.  We returned to the den on the east side of the house prior to locking the front door and settled back in to watching television on our 19" Toshiba CRT.  There was no telephone call to law enforcement.  No discussion regarding the incident with my father.  Nothing.  The event was treated by us as if it had actually only existed as part of our TV programming.

Why?

Because we were too busy existing within our facade, and what we had just been sucked into didn't "fit" within that artificial construct.  And this reflects perfectly of my entire growing up years and how shallow they truly were.  It was like living within a Norman Rockwell painting in so many ways.  A very deeply unoriginal Norman Rockwell painting.

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Xmas is a harsh, difficult, uncaring, brutally wicked time of year for so many folks, and all of these negative superlatives seem to only ramp up during the holidays in contrast to the traditional merrymaking.  But, this ugly truth is so often hidden from view until you have it show up on your suburban doorstep.

If this reality decrees itself within your world during this Xmas season, don't cower away as I chose to do.  Instead, come to the rescue of those in need.  Open the damn door, swing it wide, and let the suffering inside for safe keeping.  To hell with the devils of this world, but especially here at Xmas.