Living Independently

For people with disabilities who want to live independently contact-- 

National Council on Living Independently

To find a Center near you, go HERE.

It is important for people with disabilities to be able to live independently in their local communities if the wish to do so. Being institutionalized, marginalized, disempowered and condemned to a live in poverty can not be acceptable. I see organizations like the one listed above as essential to breaking the same old cycles. That's why I got involved. 

Night Ride

Hi, I'm Sam Fallen and I work for the Devil. But... its not like that. The universe is a vast and complicated place. There is far more to it than your little 1300 cc brains can comprehend. Keep trying. You're so cute and entertaining! We demons get a bad rap. I still cannot get over how bad you treat each other from time to time. And I'm a demon? Look, I cannot go ape-shit and kill all the bad guys for you. Step up to the plate yourself from time to time.  If I even tried to do it all, that would be breaking far too many protocols. Who needs the paperwork? I mean, I would if I could but like I said, it's far more complicated than you can comprehend. Sometimes, I can make a difference, even in small ways.  It's not always about killing Nazis, pedophiles, abusers and other sickos. Sometime, just word of caution is all that's needed. 

I like my current job. I get to dole out justice "Twilight Zone" style, mostly here in the USA. During down time between jobs, I like roam around the country, checking out the people and sites. I mostly drive at night. After all I'm a demon, dammit! I can drive whatever I want. Here lately, I've been sporting a black Nissan GTR Nizmo. It's quite a ride! You should check one out sometime. Better yet, steal one! Now, I could power the thing myself but you know, protocols. So, I still have to put up with your fossil fuel bullshit (most of the time). So there I am blasting through the desert south-west, California bound, Metallica pumping, windows down, howling at the moon when the low fuel light comes on. That's not all that far in this rig. I cannot be too choosy. I pull into a little seedy roadside gas station. They are open 24 hours, lucky me. At least the pumps are from the 21st century, I can just swipe my card and not even have to go in. I avoid you guys when possible, nothing personal. My gas card is pretty cool, no limits or bills. Yes, being a demon has privileges. The good mood I had before quickly evaporated listening to some clerk-schmuck threatening to call the cops on a teen-aged girl sitting on the curb balling her eyes out. The kid had enough problems and he wasn't helping. Between jobs, I had nothing better to do. I strolled on over. 

      "Hi, Katie. It's Sam. I used to work with your Dad, Robert. Is this guy bothering you?"

      "No," she stammered. 

      I gave the clerk-schmuck a "you better get the fuck outta here before I beat your ass" look. Yeah, another demon thing that comes in handy from time to time. He got the point, suddenly remembering brownies were burning in the store or something equally as dire. No, I never worked with Kate's dad! But how would she know? I did know her name, Katie, and her dad's name was Robert though. It's a part of my job to know such things.

      "Kate, this a real nice place and all but that guy may indeed call the cops. Come with me and we'll sort things out. I know your dad and I won't hurt you."

      Without saying anything, she got up and walked over to my car. I opened the passenger door and she got in. I got in, hit the start button and eased back out onto the road going east. I know my new charge lives back in Missouri. Yeah, it's a little out of the way but what the hell. I got time. My new friend says nothing, just looking straight ahead at the desolate two-lane road. Like I said, I have time. Finally, she speaks.

     "What did you say your name was?"

     "Sam Fallen."

     "I don't remember Dad mentioning you before. Are you sure you worked with him?"

     "Yes, I'm sure. It was a contract assignment, only a few months. So, ah, what brings you out west?"

     "I'm still not convinced."

     I slow the car. "Would you rather walk? I don't kidnap people. You're free to go."

     "No, just take me to the next town."

     I accelerate back up to my previous speed. "Looks like we have 22 more miles."

     She remains silent. I know why she's here. I know all about the cool new boyfriend who offered adventure and excitement. She found out the hard way, all he really wanted was to pimp her out to movie-makers on the west coast for fun and profit. Wisely, she took her chances at a roadside gas station instead of getting back in the van with him and his buddies. Things were about to get ugly. I'll give the young man a little credit. He did not force (or let his buddies force) her back into the van. He wrongly figured she'd be calling begging for a ride in twenty minutes or so. That was two hours ago. This kid knew better. I thought about the sickos in the van and decided to let it go for now. They had not crossed the line yet. Kate was their first and more than one did not like what was going on. Harm kids guys and there is Hell to pay. I turned on Kate's favorite band, The The. Not my thing really but I wanted the kid to be comfortable. I looked over and saw her sobbing softly to herself. I reached over and squeezed her shoulder. 

    "You're safe now."

    Kate sobbed louder. I remained silent. She soon stopped and we rode on in silence. 

    "Where do you want to get out?" I asked.

    "I don't know mister. I have no money and no place to go."

    "Where would you like to go? I'll help you."

    Once she was in my car, she was under my protection and my responsibility. Anything happen to her on my watch and I'm back scraping feces off dungeon floors in the eighth circle of hell, no thanks.

    "Home," she answered at last. Back with her family, I was no longer responsible. It was up to them to look out for her. 

    "I'll get you there. Around daybreak we'll be near Albuquerque. I'll see to it you get on a plane home. You have had a long last few days. Try to get some rest."

    "You have no idea what my last few days have been like but thank you."

    "Don't assume what someone else may or may not know," I said as I flashed a few images from her last few days into her mind from mine. It was just enough to give her pause.

    "Are you a guardian angel or something?"

    It was all I could do to not bust out laughing. I barely pulled back into my lane in time to avoid a semi. I hope she did not see my expression. 

    "No, let's just stick with or something. Get some rest."

    "Thank you, Mr. Fallen."

    Soon she dozed off. Now, putting the kid on a plane was not all that hard but I did not want to screw around with this for the next several hours. Katie, with no id, did not help matters either. I looked into her mind and found where she lived. Bam! Let's do this. The GTR disappeared from Arizona. In a quiet neighborhood in Jefferson, Missouri I spun around doing a 360 degree turn. There was always the outside chance of merging with another car, pedestrian, dog or cat. I win that battle but oh, the paperwork! Katie woke up and looked around. 

     "Are we at the airport?"

     "You slept quite awhile. I didn't have the heart wake you."

     I rounded another turn and she knew where she was. The sun was just coming up. I stopped a block short of her house. 

     "Okay, this is it kid. I think you can make it from here."

     She hugged my neck. "How did we get here?

     "You slept right through it. This Nissan is rather zippy. Your parents and brother have been worried sick. Now go!"

     I leaned across her and opened the door. 

     "Is this real?"

     "Yes, now go on."

     "I don't know how to thank you, Mr. Fallen."

     "Easy, don't get into any more vans with strange boys, no matter how cute or cool they may appear to be."

    She leaned over and kissed me on the cheek. "How about fast cars with handsome men?"   Katie climbed out, shut the door and looked at me for an answer.

    "Especially them." I winked my right eye. "So long kid. Keep yourself safe." 

    "You too."    

     “Will I ever see you again?”

     “I don’t think so.”

    I eased the car away and watched her in the rear-view until I turned back toward the interstate. She had a lot of fence mending and healing to do with her family but I knew she would be okay. I put myself a few days behind schedule but I have a very fast car, a credit card with no limits (or bills) and all the time I needed. 

    The moral? Take care of each other, you fuckers, I cannot rescue everybody.

Paul News

Hey, been back reworking "Seeds of the Utopia." I hope to finish by the end of the month. I'll be back writing here more once that's over. In the meantime, look for another Sam Fallen tale soon! There is a second Seeds book in the works along with another post-apocalypse second generation adventure crossing continents and oceans. I'll also be adding stuff here and to the unpeople blog as well.

   

Physically Disabled in the so-called Third World

The World's Worst place to be Disabled

I think I could write a ton on this video. There is so much more going on than just how bad these people are treated. There's first world white wealth and crushing African poverty. The picture says a lot already. There's the west telling others how they should be doing things.  There's religion being misused for wealth generation (or is that the real point of religion along with control of course). 

And a ton of questions... 

1) How much danger did this woman put herself in, knowingly or unknowingly? 

2) Did she consider what would happen to these people after she talked to them? 

3) What was her goal? 

4) Does she know what white privilege is?  (How would this be viewed if presented by a poor African?) 

 5) What are other countries like? 

6) The world's best place to be disabled?

I'm not asking to be critical. These are just a few questions that popped into my mind as I watched this. 

TANGENT   

What is the point of prayer to an all powerful all-knowing all loving God? Doesn't he / she know what you need long before you even think to ask? I'm an agnostic. If there is a such thing as a CAPITAL-G god, they must be so far removed from what we are taught, its not even funny.      

Help with Independent Living (North Carolina)

North Carolina Independent Living Counsel 

Not in North Carolina? No worry, your state should have something similar. 

Joy A. Shabazz Center for Disability Rights  

Piedmont Triad area North Carolina. 

If you can think for yourself, you can do for yourself. And the cool thing is you don't have to go it alone. There are others willing and able to help out. Looking at the unemployment and poverty numbers for those with physical disabilities and doing nothing is simply not acceptable. People, we have to do better than this. I'm working with the two groups listed above. Now, what can you do? What are you going to do?

End poverty prison now!

 

Readings 8.11.15

Ward Foley (Scarman)

 

Beyond Legal Protections 

Paul Longmore

A Ragged Edge Online

More Choice!

The arrow of time only goes one way. Let's see; infancy, childhood, adolescence, young adult, middle age and old age. I may have left some out but you got the idea. A lifespan only runs one way. There are two paths I'm thinking of here. One, let's call the Hotdog Bites in Your Pizza Crust Path. The other, The Salad Eaters Path. Now, the Hotdog Bites in Your Pizza Crust Path at first sounds like a lot of fun! All the yummy fat grams, salt, carbs and what ever the hell else is in hotdogs is right tasty, I admit. Now I'm just to old for Hotdog Bites in Your Pizza Crust Path. Just typing these words make my arteries harden and constrict a little. But yeah, I love beer, bread and red meat just as much as the next bloke. But I can see where this leads and you can too. Look around the next time you are out and about. All of those people who are so large they can hardly walk, the laboring breathers who could barely climb a stair case and struggle just to get out of a car or minivan are headed for a very hard and expensive old age. I'm not making fun of overweight people, that's not the point. It is a simple truth. Eating a high fat content diet leads to obesity and all the baggage that goes along with it. Consider The Salad Eater's Path.       

The Salad Eater's Path is simply eating healthy. For me, this does not mean being a radical vegan who gets all offended when a friend orders a hamburger. I see it as balance and moderation in what I eat. You know, just go easy on the meat and starchy stuff and more heavy on the fruit and veggies. I try and go organic when possible. What good is a healthy diet composed of carcinogenic herbicides and pesticides? Sure, those taking The Salad Eater's Path mat get diagnosed with something terrible and sometimes even drop dead despite a healthy diet. And the occasional lucky fool survives a horrific car crash because he or she was NOT wearing a seat belt. Life is about risk management. Basically, The Salad Eater's Path is just a lot less risky. To reduce the risk of a terrible old age, add exercise. So far this is pretty general and applies to everyone. Look here. Add a physical disability into the mix and things change.

Now as a person with a physical disability, I think the two paths have a multiplier effect. The Hotdog Bites in Your Pizza Crust Path I feel is going to age me much faster. I'll be able to do less and less for myself the longer I'm going down this tasty trail. The last things I need are insulin shots and oxygen tanks. I don't want to be what paramedics refer to as a human train wreck and you don't either. I want to keep the independence and mobility I have as long as possible. You should too. The sun will still come up tomorrow if I get a big Mac and wash it down with a coke. But If I do it two or three times a week, I'm officially on The Hotdog Bites in Your Pizza Crust Path. For me, this is okay once every few months. That's probably still too much. I never said I was perfect. I like you, dear reader, am a work in progress.                 

arm powered roscooter.

Ask yourself this question. Would 65 year old you thank you for your diet choice or slap you silly? Try to make the right choice. 

Choose your story

There is a lot of stuff we don't have control over; who are parents are, where and when we are born and other people. I think there is a such think as free will but it can be constrained by some if not all the factors above. If I'm only taught the I'm "disabled," "poor" or "stupid" narrative, how can I change? I would have no clue that there are different ways of thinking and feeling. Think of it this way, a kid living in poverty who knows nothing else is not going to magically decide on his or her own to go to school, get a good job and live happily ever after. Somebody has to educate that young person on alternatives. They also have to be in an environment that encourages and nourishes that change. What good is there in being told there is a better life but not ever seeing / living it? I think the older we get, the harder it is to change. Habits and stories we live by become so ingrained, that change is all but impossible. Once the story is written, that's all she wrote... Bam! Done! Of course there are exceptions. So how do you want your story to go?

It starts with you, parents. Is keeping your kids on lock-down, sheltered and narrow really going to help them be fully functional, free-thinking adults? If all of their friends look and act like you, that may not be such a good thing. Diversity is the enemy of bigotry.  What good is it telling kids what they cannot do? Why constrain their vision, dreams and possibilities? Focus on what they CAN do! They need the tools to explore the world for themselves. Two of the best tools I know of are education and travel. Perhaps the next best thing is internet access.The more of the world they are exposed to, the better. Even the bad stuff is good. We all need to be aware of the reality that is war, poverty, corruption and so on and so on. How can we make the world a better place otherwise? Just being informed gives us more agency.

What I mean by "agency" is power over our own lives. This is crucial for people with disabilities. If I can work and support myself, I can decide what help I need and pay for it. This is the best thing my parents ever did for me. I was never taught to feel sorry for myself, depend on others (much less the state) or the world owes me a damn thing. Instead, I was taught to be a critical-thinking more or less functional adult. I never knew about the ADA until well into my adulthood, although I've certainly benefited from it!

The bottom line, dear reader, is don't let a so called disability write the story of your life. Sure, it may play a part but, hopefully, not the lead role.  


        

Readings 7.25.15

Why Disability and Poverty Still Go Hand in Hand 25 Years after Landmark Law

Disability Discrimination 

25 Years Ago

Institute Of Disability Culture

Young, Disabled and Stuck in a Nursing Home for the Elderly

People Do the Coolest Things

There are plenty of things to read about how people with physical disabilities are mistreated. But it is not all bad, not in my case anyway. Because of you guys, I tend to wear rose colored glasses, always seeing the best in people. 99% of people treat me with the utmost kindness, helpfulness and respect. So to you guys, think of this as a thank you note. My warm fuzzies are not limited to one group, country or culture. Almost everywhere I've been I've experienced nothing but human kindness. Now, I've been some places; England, Scotland, Mexico, Bulgaria, Vietnam and all over the USA. I know I cannot say my experience is the only thing going but I still think it is worth sharing. People need positive reminders. Let me share a few highlights. This is personal stuff, man and I don't share it lightly.

Bulgaria- Three strangers met me at the airport (okay, I met one on line) and took care of me for a week as if I was a family member. I never had to worry about a thing. They shared their culture and country with me. It was amazing! Some people thought I was nuts for going. I guess I was a little nuts. I hope I still am. Whenever I'm overseas, I want people to think well of us yanks. So I avoided being a pain in the ass. Think like Michael Jordan. He once said, "A fan may only get one chance in their life to meet me. I want that to be the best experience possible." I may be paraphrasing but stick with me. When I'm over seas, I may be the only American somebody ever sees or meets. I want to do it right. So whatever my new best friends wanted to do I was up for. We'll figure a way up the steps, over the cobblestones and if it rains, well, we'll just get wet. Just deal, yo! I let them guide me through their culture, food and down many, many unmarked roads. Yes, they knew I was a person with a physical disability in advance.  Other places I've bee the experience has been similar.

Vietnam- I read a lot of negative things about being physically disabled in East Asia so I was a little apprehensive about going there*. But this time I was meeting an old family friend, so I figured I'd be okay. I went back in 2005. The place is not what one would call "handicapped accessible." There were steps almost everywhere and the curbs resembled the Cliffs of Dover. The people there made the difference. I never had trouble getting help whenever it was needed. Quite often, I didn't even have to ask. Once at a bust market, we stopped for lunch. I ordered pork strips with rice. The young waitress cut mine up without me asking. I would have got someone at the table with me to do it. So, yeah, I was going to ask somebody. The loving-kindness I experienced there was unbelievable! I went back in 2007 and met my wife to be, Thu. But that's another story. I cannot forget you guys here at home.

USA- Too many to mention! Let me share a funny story. I was in an air port once and got singled out by the TSA for a random special screening; shoes, metal detector wand  with a date-night pat down. Once they were satisfied I had no explosives, firearms or nail clippers, I was sent back to the waiting area. I sit down with a shrug and this random stranger says to me, "Man, I'm glad they checked you! I just knew you were all Al Qaeda. Now, I can enjoy the flight!" All present had a good laugh. Keep your sense of humor, people! It will get you a long way. The TSA dudes were just doing their jobs. No hard feelings.      

You get out of life what you put into it. Sure, you can sport the "I'm disabled" label on your forehead, making demands, focusing inward on your own problems (health and otherwise) and spouting the whole life is not fair mantra. But really? Where will that get you? "You are as happy or sad as you choose to be," somebody said. (Lincoln or Lady Gaga for all I know) Let me make a small change. "You are as disabled as you choose to be." No, I had no control over being born with AMC, but I do control how I chose to deal with it.  

The Opportunity

My name is Sam Fallen and I work for God. Think of me as God’s “cleaner.” Being a demon can be fun at times. I have to say I love me some cherry pie, especially when it’s served by a hot, little blond in a short dress. She knew I was checking her out and she liked it. This is one of the side effects of being a demon; you know the whole temptation thing and all. Ah, hell, here we go.

A man a few booths away shouted at his small wife, "You are a stupid piece of shit! Can't you do anything right! I can you believe you just did that! Oh, now you are going to cry? Look everybody, she's crying!"

Now, if there's one thing I hate, it's abuser assholes.

"Please stop," she whimpered back.

"I don't believe you, just shut up and eat your fucking food."

The whole dining area was cast under an uncomfortable silence. Sir, you got my attention. That's not good for you. Normally, I'd have to wait for word from my boss, Bill Barker. Thank God (literally) I can take direct action under such circumstances. The couple in question ate in silence. Feeling the woman's hurt just burned my ass. I knew what I was going to do. It was just a matter of time. Sure enough, the cowardly loser got up to take a leak. A big dude with tattoos a few tables away also got up with the same idea as me. The loser took no notice. I put my hand up to the tattoo guy, as to say, I got this. Then, I fell in right behind the loser not making a sound as he passed my table. We demons can be sneaky bastards when we need to. I let him get a little ahead of me. Why spoil the fun, right? I followed him into the men's room and waited. Mid-leak at the urinal his ass was mine! I seized his right arm shoving it up painfully behind his back and grabbed the hair on the back of his head. He shrieked in pain as I shoved him into the large handicapped stall with piss flying everywhere (he was not done yet). Whoever had been here last had the green apple squirts and not flushed (you are all savages, you know that?). Face first into the dark brown water the loser went and there was not a damn thing he could do about it. I held him there until he got a nice mouthful of feces laden water. It was now time for the real fun to begin!

I pulled him up and threw him onto the ground ahead of me. Gone was the restaurant bathroom. He had landed on a hard-packed sandy ground under a pitch-black sky.

"What the hell? Who are you? What do you want?"

"Welcome to Hell. I got what I want now, your soul for eternity," I answered.

He started to stand and a shove from my size 19 boot put him back in his place.

"Feeding time!" I shouted.

Nine huge demons appeared around the loser feeding on his fear.

"What the fuck is this, Sam?" The harry one said scratching his balls.

"Take out," I answered.

They nudged him with their large feet and poked at him with white-hot fire tongs. They were like disappointed dogs getting a bad treat.

"Ahhh, a waste of time," another added.

One by one they disappeared.

"Well, this is awkward," I said when it was just he and I again. "But they're right."

"Who the fuck are you and where am I?"

"Hell. I already told you. Who am I? No matter. I'm not going to keep you company anymore either."

I disappeared leaving him there on the hot sand, under a black sky and the outline of rocky, snow-capped mountains far off in the distance. His hell was being powerless and alone.

I took a leak, washed my hands and left the restroom. On my table, I dropped a twenty. It was the largest tip the cutie got that night. She was a nice young woman. She deserved it. On the table where the wife sat, I dropped a hundred.

"You're free now."

The tattoo guy nodded to me as I walked out. The loser was never found. He was resting uncomfortably four dimensions away. Of course I became what your police call a “person of interest.” I don’t find your Orwell shit all that amusing. But I don't show up on security cameras and appear differently to different people. I felt a little bad for the lead detective but not that much. I don't really care for dicks. Like I said, we can be sneaky bastards.     

People say the Damndest Things

I read this article today and it got me thinking what are some of my more memorable negative experiences being a person with a disability?  

What I Learned about Ableism after my Kid's Video Went Semi-Viral 

Worth the few minute to read it. Go ahead... 

Being a person with a physical disability truly has it's moments. Let me share a few of mine with you. People say the craziest shit sometimes. The flowing are a few choice quotes from adults.

"Hey man, what happened to you?" More than once.

"What's wrong with you?" Too many times.

"Were you born like that?" Too many times.

"You got your job because of your disability." Once was enough. 

Here are a few rather interesting and educational experiences I've had along the way.

So... yeah, I got that going for me. As I get older, I find this stuff no longer really bothers me all that much. Most of the time, people just don't know any better. I just answer the question and move on to whatever the business at hand is. The one that drives me nuts is people who think physical disability means mental disability. A long time ago a neighbor used to refer to me as "the little retarded boy" and man that used to drive my Dad crazy! Its a wonder that guy did not get a black eye! Also, back in those days, (the 1970's) little old ladies would come up to me and give me money. My family was not poor and I was always in decent clothes and clean. Guess it made them feel better. Oh, and there was this old granny-type that called her grandson (I guess) over and pointed to me and said, "There's a boy with MS." Thanks for the diagnosis, grandma! You are not a doctor or a rocket scientist, are you? And one more for fun. I had a German dude get all upset when I did not park in a handicapped space. Yeah, I felt like walking. I tried to explain that I like anyone, need exercise. He basically glazed over. There was only one thing for me to do. I went in and had beer.

As Chuck The Yankee once said you can find Sympathy in the dictionary, look between shit and syphilis. I don't need it. I got a cool house, money in the bank, great wife and a family that's anything but boring. I tell you all of this so you can educate others, especially kids. I'll always get the long stares from little kids. I just think it's natural. I'm different. It is not near as big a deal as it used to be now that I understand they are just curious. I'll speak to them if I can. Just saying hello, how are you seems to bring them around. So I'm cool with kids not knowing what the deal is and how they should respond to someone like me. Adults... Less so.                 

So here are the rules.

1. Don't be an asshole.
2. Not sure what to do? See rule number one.  

Soon, I'll write about the more positive stuff I've experienced as a person with a physical disability. I can write about the positive for days.

All in on the fun!

    
     We try to make things better for the physically disabled like special parking spots, carts / scooters, by-passing lines at events and airports. But now it seems everyone wants in on the fun! Why is it simply being overweight is now a handicap? What about those who have no visible physical disability who take the last handicapped spot and bound into the store? Yeah, yeah I know not all disabilities are visible but it seems the once ample handicapped parking is all too often full. The scooters disappear at places like Costco and disability claims are skyrocketing. I think there are several reasons for what's going on.

    First, we here in the USA are simply getting fatter, sicker and generally less healthy with each passing year. A fat dude with emphysema is handicapped after all. He now needs the spot just as much as the paraplegic. Weight gain leads to multiple health problems as we all (should) know. Our diets are terrible and if anything are getting worse. Try to remember this the next time the idea of fast -food pops in your mind. It is much more costly in the long run. In addition to exponentially increased health costs there are also exponential decreases in the quality of life. Getting older is hard enough as it is but add 20, 30, 50 or a 100 pounds to the mix and watch your health completely go to shit. I'm not just being a preachy douche bag. These are the facts. For the record I consider myself overweight. Not massively but enough to think I can speak from experience. Not getting around well sucks for whatever reason. Don't make it worse.

     Our bar for what's considered "handicapped" has lowered or broadened. This is just a feeling I have. I think it would be hard to "prove" one way or another. Contrary to media hype, the economy is still tanking. So a lot of people see disability checks as a way out. Now this is something we can verify. I think this is a reasonable source with some good key points thrown in. Maybe this explains why handicapped placards seem to be given out like cotton candy at a county fair. This is not going to be an easy problem to solve. It's hard to swing back the other way and given our modern fast-food life style almost impossible.

     If people can justify being a Nazi, ISIS or KKK member then justifying stealing a handicapped spot, scooter or cutting in a line is a snap! "Oh, I only wanted to run in and out." "All the handicapped spaces are empty." "The lines are too long-I'll say I'm physically handicapped." Nobody thinks they are bad people and in their minds these excuses are totally okay. Society, generally, lets it slide. I hear ya, how does being a Nazi equate to stealing a handicapped spot? The idea is we can con ourselves into believing almost anything, making them no big deal. You need to always listen to that little voice or voices telling you right from wrong. Beware of the one that says "...its okay this time." or ...its just a little thing."   Hey, you either do wrong or you don't! Just this one little time does not make it okay. But I'm not done yet...

     A note to handicapped people. Here's a little of what I've learned so far. Take what works for you and leave the rest. Don't be an asshole. Everybody has stuff to deal with, as Christians say, crosses to bear. Ask for help rather than demand it. Use please and thank you a lot. Allow whatever your handicap is to make you a better person. I've learned patience, tenacity and easiness. I should say I'm still learning those things and more. I think the world does NOT owe me more more than I owe it. Life won't give you any more than you can handle. Remember you are not alone and you got this!  

  
   

An Important Reading

Here's an article about a local "home" for physically adults, Bell House.

I bet there are many such stories around the country and beyond.

Thanks for reading but take action also.

A word about Sam

It would be cool if Sam Fallen were real. Read about him in the previous post. But sadly, he's not. You see, the struggle for justice is not up to some guy in the sky. It is up to us and only us. If God took care of it all, what would be left for us to do? I'm an agnostic. You can believe anything you want. But the fact remains we still have ISIS, Neo-Nazis, pedophile priests, Klansmen, serial killers and on and on. If I were God, I would not be happy getting prayers wishing these groups away. Like any good parent, I'd want my children to be able to stand up and take care of bad shit on their own. There is no room for laziness or indifference when it comes to justice. We have to get up off our asses and do the dirty work ourselves.

I still get a kick out of Sam. I think he has more stories to tell. Who knows, maybe I'm wrong and he is real on some level. So yeah, he'll be back at some point. But that does not excuse us from unrelenting pursuit of justice.       

The Mark

So you don’t believe in God? That’s okay. They say this is a free country after all. I don’t have much of a choice. He’s my employer. We are like this. I’m the cashier at the fast food chain and he’s the director of the conglomeration that owns my burger joint along with twenty-three other companies, burgers, biotech, defense yada yada ya. Most people think my boss, Satan, is all against God. Not true. Like me, Satan is an employee. Yeah, he’s higher up than me. When one of you mortals really offends God, he calls Satan. Satan calls Beelzebub (a guy named Bill Barker who lives in the deep south). He in turn, makes a few calls and I’m sent out to do the dirty work. But I think it is fun! I’m a tool of Karma, you might say. I’ve got a little job to do. Why don’t you come a long and see what it is all about? 

Great! Glad to have you along. My name is Sam Fallen, at least for this little job. I also happen to be the president of this area’s largest employer, for today anyway. I can be many things for my line of work. It just depends on the need. We are all tools of God and I'm no different. It takes a lot to offend him and earn a visit from someone like me. Do you know who really, really pisses God off? Those who harm others in his name are high on the list. Bonus points if they harmed children. Sooner or later, they feel the terrible wrath of God. Just keep this in mind. I have a small but important role to play. Speaking of roles, did I tell you I love acting? I really do! Today, I get to play the part of some big rich corporate type who is used to pushing people around and getting his way. It can be funny sometimes. Who knew a demon cashier would like to enroll his kids in Catholic school? I’ve got the expensive Armani Suit, a Maserati, gold Rolex and a small bar code neck tattoo just to get their attention. All of that plus drop-dead good looks make for quite a character. I should have a few shelves of Oscars by now but that's not one of the perks. Now, let's set the stage if you will. I don’t know about you but I love wet, cold, cloudy, fall days. The school looked normal enough, four levels with a sort of Gothic Church off to the left. They kept the place nice. Evil shows up in the damndest of places I’ve noticed. Well, let’s go meet our mark, the reason I'm here today.

The young red head behind the counter felt an unexplained pang of terror as I walked up.

Better let her know I’m only human. “Good morning, I’m Sam Fallen. I have an appointment with Mrs. Mitchell,” I said with a big grin.

“Good morning... Oh, yes sir. Just a moment please,” she stammered. 

She bolted up and rushed to a back office. “Nice bottom,” I thought. Yes, it's true, even demons have desires.

Mrs. Mitchell was a dumpy older woman with glasses and an oversized power suit that did not hide her forty extra pounds. “Whatever works for you," I thought.

“Hi, you must be Sam,” she said extending her hand.

“Mr. Fallen please.” I gave her an icy cold, strong, handshake she would never forget. After all, she had hired the mark. Intentional or not, that had lead to a lot of suffering and even a few deaths by suicide. But she was not why I was here. She could be a job for someone else but not I. That’s up to those much further up to figure out.       

“Okay, Mr. Fallen. Let me show you around. Please follow me.”

I winked at the pretty redhead who had returned to her desk as I followed the old battle-axe out. She blushed involuntarily with intense desire. I can't help that I'm charming. I followed Mrs. Mitchell down a short hallway to the library. I gave her a good case of the creeps just for fun. Had I been just some sucker off the street, she would have tried to toss me out. My fancy job title and expensive toys made her endure my uncomfortable presence. Now little kids are a different story. I can be quite fun and engaging when I need to be. In a round about way, I’m to protect these very kids at all costs. She introduced me to the librarian, a pleasant middle-aged woman with impeccable honesty and a love of children. Why can't more of you be like her? She asked Mrs. Mitchell about something or other and I eased to a class of little kids sitting on the floor waiting for story time. Oh, the stories I could tell!

“Hey! How’s everybody today!”

“Good!” Most shouted back.

I knelt down. “Learning a lot?” I smiled the way only little kids can make me.

“Yes, “ a few answered.

“Do you like school?”

One little girl answered in the affirmative. A few followed.

An honest boy said, “NO!”

I could not help but throwing by head back with a big belly laugh. His honesty caught me off guard.

“Don’t worry young man, it does get better. Just give it a little time. I want all of you to have a great day! See you around.”

I rejoined the librarian and Mrs. Mitchell who looked horror struck.

“Aren’t kids great? I love it! Where too next , Mrs. Mitchell?” I was in such a good mood.

“Let me show you the cafeteria and the gym.”

“Please, lead the way.”

I gave the librarian a thumbs up as I left. The cafeteria looked like any school cafeteria but with better food. The gym looked nice with a full sized basketball court. Not a bad facility over all. I met one of the gym teachers or coaches, Mr. Randal. He had a dirty mind. Let’s just say he had an unhealthy admiration for young bodies. We all have dark thoughts from time to time. As long as we don’t act on them God will not send someone like me. Still, just a reminder would not hurt.

“Hey Tim (the guy’s first name) I’m always watching you. Keep your hands and eyes off or I’ll take you to the darkest and loneliest place in the universe, ”I said as I pointed his mind’s eye to a darkness he never thought possible. I don’t always know how it works but I can tell when someone gets the point. He got it. I like when that happens. "A nice bonus for today," I thought. 

A disturbed man checked himself into psychiatric care that night. He got the help he needed before it was too late. But Coach Randal was not the mark, just a little extra. I was getting closer. From the gym we went upstairs to check out a few classrooms. I felt a shiver, as I got closer to the true evil that lurked here all wrapped up in the cloth of God. I shook hands with a few teachers and high-fived some students, none of whom felt anything out of the ordinary. Mrs. Mitchell had one more room to show me. My blood ran cold and I had to struggle to keep composed. The time had come to face my mark, Brother Gallagher.

What exactly had this stupid mortal done to get me out of bed this morning and make me run this little errand on behalf of Bill Barker and other higher-ups? I will not offend you or myself for that matter with the sordid details. All you need to know is he had an unhealthy desire for both little boys and little girls. He acted on his impulses. He had been doing so for quite some time. He could have been stopped a long time ago if just one person would have done something other than pass the buck. A sin of omission, I think the church calls it. I call it being a piece of shit, too selfish to be bothered. As a result, he had a long line of victims. Some of whom were right here in this very classroom forced into a lonely self-loathing and utter hopelessness not of their own making. They would not be forgotten.

The good brother knew the game was up the moment I saw him. I gave Mrs. Mitchell a small case of the creeps. Not so for Brother Gallagher. In an instant everything changed. The nice, warm classroom fell away and was replaced with a small, rocky, pedestal on which he stood. Cold, red flames shot up all around him from a sea of red lava. Contrary to popular belief Hell is not hot but cold, a special cold that is hard to describe to mortals. Think of it like this, the coldest you have ever been along with knowing you will never, ever be warm again. He looked across the lava lake at me. I was no longer Mr. Fallen. I was more my natural self, a hundred foot tall pissed off demon with thousands of years worth of scars both seen and unseen.

“See you in the twilight,” I said directly into his thoughts. I wanted to shred his mind right there laughing as he unhinged from reality. He felt my power over him. I could hold him here for as long as I wanted. But I kept him just long enough to make my point. What felt like an hour or so to him was less than half a second. You all have a strange sense of time. It is not what you think. The classroom reappeared and he knew the real reason for Mr. Fallen’s visit but could say nothing. I saw to it his last afternoon on Earth would be long and lonely. I looked around said hello to a few of the kids, shook a few hands and got a few high-fives. I don’t think they picked up on what had happened but children can be very perceptive. They sure seemed excited. I made a few mental notes before leaving, Lisa, Anne, John and Trey; his current victims, suffering all alone because of this piece of shit. They needed help. There’s more to justice than punishment, as you will soon see. I followed Mrs. Mitchell out and back down to the front lobby. She knew nothing. I’m a good actor. The red haired woman looked away as I headed out the front door, all the sudden finding something really of interest in her bottom drawer. She was young. I left her alone.       

When will you silly people ever learn? Hope always springs eternal, even when there really is none. Good Brother Gallagher was no exception. By sunset he had almost forgotten our little meeting. Hideous visions of little girls and boys danced through his head as he strode confidently out to his little, red convertible. I did not bother to stand up from my position sitting on the trunk. I was almost giddy with excitement as I watched the color drain from his face.    

“Get off my car!” He tried to sound strong and confident.

I looked at him and raised my eyebrows, a look that said, "are you talking to me motherfucker?"

“I said, GET OFF MY CAR!”

“This? This, is yours?” I fought to contain my laughter at his bluster. 

“I’m going to call the police.”

“You’re going to do no such thing,” I said calmly and grinned the only way a demon on a mission can.

He started to back away. It was time to let him know who was boss. I took over his motor control and stopped him in his tracks.

“Have you already forgot our previous meeting? And I really put on a good show. Come on, you know why I’m here. I work for Bill Barker. You may know him by his older name, Beelzebub. You knew I was on the way.”

I knew the good Brother’s next move even before he did. He pulled out a crucifix and held it out towards me, like it was a six-shooter. Had I been a malevolent demon and he a true priest, I would have left on the spot. We cannot fuck with God like that. Unfortunately for him, neither was the case. I worked for God and any goodness Gallagher once had was long gone.

“Oh, please,” I rolled my eyes and melted the metal cross burning his hand in the process.  

He looked at me shocked and hurt, his lips quivering with fear. I waived a finger, making his mouth grow over. He trembled in place.

“Ah, yes. That’s better. ‘I’m going to call the police’ what fine last words. Too bad someone did not do that a long time ago. They too will be held accountable for their inaction but not today. Had someone acted,  that would've made my little errand today unnecessary. But here we are, just you and I. Oh, you’re already dead." His eyes got really big.  I had his full attention.

I continued, "No, I’m not going to impale you or see to it you are gang-raped. That’s someone else’s job. I’m here to inform you your life here is over, you wasted it hurting the defenseless. Welcome to the afterlife.” 

I slid off his car and got up in his mouth-less face, “You will now face divine justice. We cannot completely undo the damage you have done. This is another reason for your punishment. Your computer will soon be examined by the police and many of those you hurt will come forward. Your sick trophy collection will become public knowledge. Very soon your name will be synonymous with evil here. So long, Gallagher. Take him away.”

      Four demons appeared and each took a limb. I laughed loud as thunder as he was dragged away across the green lawn, shattering his mind. The body was just a crumpled heap face down on the pavement with several front teeth knocked out from the fall. He would be found the next morning next to a rather mysterious small mound of melted metal. There was also a curious burn mark on his right hand. Neither detail made the news. The other details did. Massive aneurysm, these things happen. There was a little more work to be done.

For those he hurt, no he did not get off lightly. I can assure you. And one day he will have to face his all of his victims. But that's later and beyond my roll. I did have one last thing to take care of. Lisa, Anne, John and Trey soon got help from a new school psychologist hired by a grant from a Mr. Fallon who had visited one day but then decided to keep his kids in the public schools. Despite being deeply scarred, they managed to live out long, productive and relatively happy lives. It was a nice day's work. Hint. My days are longer than yours.  

Later that night my smart phone rang from an unknown number, “Hello?”

“Good day, Sam. I have another job for you.”

“Nice to hear from you, Bill. How can I help?”