An optional read with a warning. This version may contain TMI.

I did not come to this moment and this place by way of a slight murmuring in my mind, by a whimper of a single thought or a multitude of little thoughts.  My small questioning voice departed years ago.

Over the past few years that have culminated in this moment of pregnant containment, my silent voice has become akin to an impending exploding volcano that was long suppressed but far from suffocated.  My own sense of futility, my own sense of diminishment are to blame.  However, nowhere in our Constitution does anyone have the power to abscond with my voice unless I allow it, no matter how hard the collective might try.  More importantly, time is of the essence. We cannot wallow in our own perceived helplessness and ineffectiveness any longer.  We don’t have a lot of time to clean up the asylum and render loons the ruling class of days gone by.

When all these realizations became lightning-to-the-head crystal clear, they also became actionable for me, and the frustration and ultimately the anger gave way to a glimmer of hope.

Today, beginning now with you as my witness, I am taking my boiling lava and blowing it out, spewing it forth with all the might of my fiery inner core.   I am staking claim to my right to do so, to ‘let it blow’ so to speak,  in this country at this time full well knowing there are those who would work to silence me.   (Please take note that I am not speaking literally about blowing or fire or about weaponry other than the weaponry of thought and logic and love for what we all want to be.  I really don’t want some crazy loon out there wanting to confiscate my matches, firewood, and firearms. They are mine.  You may not have them.)

Rather my volcano will spew in the form of words, words hopefully comprised of logical thought, although I cannot be held to my words always being of a non-emotional nature.  That would be asking too much of a human, one of the XX variety in particular.  (But stay tuned for tomorrow. I may magically morph into a different pairing of chromosomes.)

My rupturing volcano has the ability to annihilate my sense of futility and diminishment.  It will give me hope that perhaps I am not alone in seeing the lunacy.  After all, you are here with me.   Perhaps you and I can work together to take us on a time line  to a future  of civility, productivity, abundance, love, respect, peace,  and thriving culturally, scientifically, and ultimately humanly.  This folklore can be real.  It can live.

We all need to take a stand to stamp out the lunacy.  We are indeed the absolute only hope.  The loons have lost all ability to make sense of their own actions.  They know not what they do (the majority of them anyway).  Those who indoctrinate are another story we will address here in some posts.

I know there are others who are suppressed but hopefully not yet suffocated.    I have heard them speak and have heard their frustration.  Take heart and have hope.  You are not alone.  Find your path and let your lava blow.  Rant.  Volunteer.  Call your representatives.   Blog it.   (Don’t think about the fact that bloggers in Bangladesh get brutally, violently-macheted murdered for blogging opinions.  After all, we don’t have an invasion of immigrants from Bangladesh yet, or do we?  Oh dear….already and yet again I digress.)

Read ASYLUManditsLOONS.com if  you choose.    It is all in your choice.    May God continue to bless our freedom of choice, and of course, our threatened freedom of thought as well.

(If by chance, you happen to be a non-believer that our freedom of thought is being threatened, try an experiment.  Call someone a he when he feels more like a she.  Depending on where you are, be sure to have some cash. Two hundred and fifty big ones would be a good amount.  You could also blog or talk about climate change and how it is not a reality.   Show that you believe it, whether or not you do.  Wait for the reaction.   It won’t be long before the loony squadron will be coming for you, not for debate, but to shut you up.)

Henceforth I write, blowing my lava.

 

 

 

 

 

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