You keep telling lies and tall tales (dont you worry about losing readers)

Every once in awhile, I will be asked the question, "Ain't you afraid that you are going to lose readers (followers, friends, fans, etc.), if you continue to write things that offend?"

Or one of it many variations, such as "If you don't quit telling lies about the Great Gherkin, I am never going to read another word that you write," and the ever famous, "Sister Seuss is on our Order's banned reading list."

[For those who are curious, why I list fictional characters that have yet to get a full novel to themselves, just bear in mind that November is NaNoWriMo {National Novel Writing Month}, so someone is sure to complain by the end of the month that I have accidentally based characters on themselves, or someone that they worship as a Master Incarnate, or someone who should die a fiery death by being burned at the stake for disrespecting the most powerful wizard in the land...in other words, some people don't think that you can tell the difference between fiction and non-fiction.]

Honest answer is that I used to have some concern over losing readers; but a couple decades worth of writing and social media experience tell me that such concerns, if paid attention to, merely shackles oneself and serves no useful purpose.

This is especially true in the current political and magical environment. At the moment, if one expresses the wrong opinion about someone's favorite politician, one loses "friends" and followers on all social media platforms. Plus one gets labelled as a member of the enemy party even if one has no idea what they are (I kid you not--I had to look up Antifa). There is not a day that goes by that the slow tickle of defriending and defollowing does not drop my friend count down another notch.

Please note that this slow drain will eventually bottom out, simply because there are people who are my friends and followers because they agree with my opinions, value my writing, and enjoy the many cat pictures that I share. It is these people that my core audience comes from, not the many people who disagree with me so much that they put me on banned writer lists.

I have a vivid memory of the first time that someone decided to quit reading my stuff. The reason that they loudly declared that they were no longer going to read my stuff? Oh, because I decided to put ads up on this blog...because a real occultist never advertises, nor needs to pay bills, nor desires to make a living doing anything other than flipping burgers.

Quite honestly, that incident led me to the conclusion that the pro-bloggers were right, and that there was no way to make everyone happy--and therefore, I don't bother to try. Either you are one of my readers or you are not. My job as a writer is to get people to respond to my writing, and sometimes that response is getting someone to hit the defollow button.

Controversial Cat is controversial.

Sister Seuss sums up Waterworld for a numpty

Sister Seuss sums up Waterworld for a numpty: There are no golf courses after global warming wins. Seriously, no golf courses. None at all.

Sister Seuss is not a scientist, so you can believe her.

Leave those statues alone! (Behold the curse of road rage)

The statue of the burning witch has sat in the center of octagonal St. Catherine Roundabout in Arkham, Massachusetts since before the Declaration of Independence. Cast in bronze, the statue shows the convicted witch, Hesper Payne burning in the exact same spot as her execution in 1692. The only time that it has not graced the roundabout was during the American Revolution War when it was hid away first from the revolutionaries, then the British, who both saw it as a ready source of war material.

Due to it predating the Constitution of the United States, it could not be affected by any federal laws that removed or modified other statues that caused outrage. So it outlasted the Thirteen Satanic Suggestions in Oklahoma, the statue of the god Chevron sitting on oil barrels while eating babies roasted on a pizza in Wyoming, the memorial commemorating Rudolf Hess at the site of the first pro-Nazi speech given in America, the neon-lighted statue of lusty Bacchus in Las Vegas, the Californian statue of Columbus beating to death his GPS with a sledge hammer, the statue of the tentacled time-traveling octopi in Washington D.C., the Statue of Liberty in New York City, and all the Confederate War statues.

In all three Prime Timelines, the statue of of Hesper Payne looks down on the boiling cauldron of road rage which is St. Catherine Roundabout. The curse of Hesper Payne upon the town fathers of Arkham radiates outward along the streets, onto the highways and freeways, infesting the whole United States--"You may have broke me on St. Catherine's wheel, but you too will be broken on thy wheels." 

While in Prime TL 3919117026, Reptilian controlled President Dolly May Ramses and her husband, Bubba "I have a nuclear weapon in my pants!" passed laws that caused all offensive statues and monuments to be torn down, and all offensive flags burned, along with all offensive literature, Hesper Payne looked down upon drivers trapped in rush-hour traffic.

While in Prime TL 52202725, Insectilian controlled President Daniel "Oh Danny!" Katz, the great Stalinian philosopher, insisted that you could have all the offensive flags, literature, statues and monuments as one desired, provided that they were all clearly apologetic, with Confederate flags being required by law to bear the words, "We apologize for slavery. Sorry for the inconvenience." on them in bright and cheerful lettering, Hesper Payne looked down upon the inconveniences caused by road construction.

While in Prime TL 666939, totally non-controlled President Earl Midas "the working man friend," arrested, convicted, jailed and deported anyone who found any righteous war statue, any righteous religious marker, any righteous working man monument, offensive and unbearable, Hesper Payne looked down upon the fully loaded military and police vehicles as their drivers tried to figure out exactly what circle of hell their GPS was sending them to.

Interestingly, in all three Prime Timelines, the family of Buddha Night would show up periodically at Arkham Town Hall, alongside lawyers and pitchfork wielding citizens, and demand that the brass inscription on the base of the statue of Hesper Payne be changed to reflect the sensibilities of the times. So one year, the inscription would be anti-witch, followed by a year of pro-witchness, rapidly followed by a time of pro-Bible sentiment, then a period of anti-Bible, then a period of pro-heresy, et cetera ad nauseous. These periodic protests and demands for righteous change wasted many hours of government time, and filled many of a slow news hour; the protests also resulted in millions of government dollars being wasted, much of which ended up in the bank accounts of the family of Buddha Night, who just happened to own the only plaque and trophy factory in an hundred miles of Arkham.    

Does an apology overcome the offense?

Sister Seuss (Nothing like her mother & are we allowed to bind ax murderers)

Sister Seuss' mother had been a mild mannered children show's host. Her typical day consisted of putting up with a bunch of snot-nosed kids while holding her tongue about their odious personal habits and smiling at the constant watching eye of a television camera--"Are you excited about spelling? Let's spell something!" Her typical night consisted of swearing a lot at the television news while eating bacon sandwiches, smoking cigars, and drinking excessive amounts of rum. The only thing that kept Sister Seuss' mother sane was leaving flaming bags of dog poop on her neighbor's front porch.

Her daughter could not be more different. Sister Seuss was a mild mannered grunt in a computer support call center. Her typical day consisted of putting up with a bunch of snot-nosed Lusers (losing computer users) while holding her tongue about their odious personal habits and smiling at the constant watching eye of the remote supervisor--"Your call may be monitored, so that we can better serve you...and totally not just to deny our employees pay raises." Sister Seuss' typical night consisted of swearing at the numpties on the internet while eating bacon sandwiches, smoking cigars, and drinking excessive amounts of rum. The only thing that kept Sister Seuss sane was writing a series of cynical and totally honest children stories detailing the mental shortcomings of the more demented members of the occult community.

A typical Sister Seuss story reads something like this:

Mad Uncle Morgan might be an ax murderer...

Sister Seuss: Who are we allowed to bind? Let us count those we are allowed to bind.

Sister Seuss: Are we allowed to bind the ax murderer? Are we allowed to stop them from murdering people in a blind rage?

But let's do nothing about it because it is his Free Will whether he murders you or not.

Unicorn Hippy Witch: Oh no! Oh noes! The ax murderer is just exercising his Free Will. Free Will and Unicorns! By murdering people, the ax murderer is contrasting how sad our world is without Unicorn Love, and how wonderful it will be if we all became Unicorns! So don't bind that ax murderer! He needs no binding! He needs no self-control! Just leave that ax murderer alone!

Missing Nostradamus prophecies rediscovered (humor--not to be taken seriously)

When the seventh Century (a collection of one hundred prophecies) of Michel de Nostredame, better known as Nostradamus, was published, only the first forty-two quatrains were published. The remaining fifty-two prophecies were lost. Exactly what happened to the missing fifty-two has been a question ever since. But like all things occult, eventually the world's greatest occultist, the Great Gherkin, revealed that he had them.

"Hidden for centuries, the deepest secrets of Nostradamus are finally revealed. Exclusively given to me by the guardians of humanity, the Secret Chiefs have authorized me to reveal the missing prophecies for the first time."

"Nostradamus was the greatest seer of all time, and I am humbled to reveal what he had predicted centuries ago about the history of the United States. For instance, the drama of the Civil War was predicted by Nostradamus, as well as the hardship that our beloved President Earl Midas has been suffering. The Deep State, Fake News, and Antifa beware! Nostradamus predicted that our courageous President will defeat his enemies with my help. Give up your black magic and join the winning side!"

Translated from the Old French:

VII.71:

Cylons cause righteous rebellion
Northern hordes, fields burning
Unshod soldiers cause horrible defeat
Silver House Prince assassinated.

"From this quatrain, we learn that the Confederate South was the righteous party in the American Civil War. Cylons in Greek history were slaves who wrongfully rebelled against their wiser Greek masters. In this quatrain, we read of the horrible tactic used by the criminal North, of burning fields to rob the South of their wealth. Furthermore, we read here of how the South was defeated when General Robert E. Lee, the great Southern humanitarian, tried to find shoes and boots for his men. The last line refers to the assassination to that traitor of humanity, Abraham Lincoln--may wild beasts piss on his grave."

VII.55:

Brother against brother unhealed
Cylons troublesome equality demanded
Marble knights remembrance confines
Secret judges pale robed and righteous

"Here we hear from Nostradamus about his vision for the defeated South, its wounds unhealed due to the interference of the North. Cylons demand equal rights under law, despite the fact that they are subhuman. In response to the North's imposing of evil laws on the South, secret judges organized and placed powerful magical protections around the South, to remind the former soldiers of their righteous, and to help confine the evil Cylons to their proper place in society."

VII.86:

Marble knights scattered and defaced
Cleo rewritten, blame wrongfully placed
Golden Prince salutes hooked cross
Armageddon unleashed, thoughts battling

"Here we read of the unlawful and unethical removal of Southern history, as well as the South's protections from the evil sorcerers who have controlled the North since before the Civil War. Removing the monuments to the great Southern fighting man rewrites history, and tries to claim that the North was the righteous party. Our beloved President-for-Life is seen by the great prophet saluting the righteous defenders of the flower of the South. Those who seek to rewrite history need to remember that we are willing to unleash Armageddon to remain free from the Thought Police."

VII.38:

Golden Prince besieghed mightily
Vulcan and Athena opposing, pawns
Bribes, spies, traitors, revolutionaries
Surrounding by thirteen armies

"Here we read of the evil forces trying to prevent our beloved President from accomplishing his will to make America in the image of his followers. There are two sides here, opposed to one another, one righteous, one evil--the honest working man represented by Vulcan, the factory worker of the gods, and the evil Thought Police represented by the whore demoness Athena, evil patron of academic sorcerers and Social Justice Warriors. The final line of thirteen armies sounds worse than the reality, for only thirteen weak covens oppose the grand plan that we voted our beloved President to enact. They will be crushed as another quatrain reveals."

VII.94:

False chroniclers arrested, mines exploded
Golden Prince victorious, alive forever
Renowned Adept at his right hand
Traitorous witches burned in Silver Garden 

"Here the mightiest and most accurate prophet in the history of humankind reveals the victory of President Earl Midas over his enemies. The Fake News, their puppets, the insipid journalists, who ride the short bus to work, and well as the Deep State, their puppet masters, are destroyed. President Midas, a great alchemist will drink of the elixir of life, the creation of which has been entrusted to me by the Secret Chiefs, and will live forever, bringing our country into a new Golden Age. And I will be the sword by his side, helping to destroy those who seek to bind him and prevent him from remaking the country, nay, the world, in the righteous image planned out by the secret guardians of humanity. Those evil witches who acted against him will be tried and convicted, then burned in the front garden of the White House. Come join our righteous cause, help us protect President Earl Midas, and restore humanity to its proper place in the universe."

Mugshots of llamas--victims of black magicians poisoning your minds and rewriting history.

Order your customized death threats today

Are you a...

...Never Angry Zealous Inciter?

...Head of a mismanaged country?

...Imperator of a world-renown esoteric Order?

...Witch Queen of the bestest witchcraft tradition ever?

Are you not getting the respect that you so richly deserve?

Need some sympathy to gross over your numerous faults and odious personal habits?

Need some proof that your enemies are traitors who deserve to be tried and convicted, and hang by the neck until dead?

Need some proof that you are an important mover and shaker?

We have just what you need--customized death threats!

Yes, that is right--subscribe today (a cheap $666 a year for our basic service package), and you will receive periodic personalized death threats that will prove that you are the bestest leader ever and a force to be reckoned with.

Prove that you are peaceful and non-threatening!

Distract Fake News media!

Prove that everyone knows your name!

Prove to law enforcement that they need to aggressively hunt down your enemies!

Prove that you are the most skilled, most gifted, most intelligent, and most sexiest person in the world!

Subscribe today!

Did we mention that is only $666 for our basic service package?

Subscribe today at TotallyRealDeathThreats.kom

"I am not just the owner of Mega Force Death Threats Subscription Service--I am also a proud customer."

Here is a sample of the many fine and high quality death threats that we have provided to our satisfied customers.

To: Jimmie Bob Beggains [OnlyRealFierySunriseOrder@HillBilly.kom]
From: Vittorja d'Aquino [GreatGherkinhasasmallpickle@aol.kom]

Dear Jimmie Bob Beggains, the greatest Rosicrucian Imperator ever, owner and operator of the Esoteric Soar Via Darkness Fiery Sunrise Order and Clown College, and your many wives,

For the crimes of being the most awesome occult teacher in the history of the world, Master of the Sacred Silly Walk, and proud never zealous supporter of the bestest President of the United States of America, Earl Midas, I hereby serve you notice that the Caring Order of the Midnight Singing Feline plans on assassinating you with a tire full of bovine end products and rabid lemmings. We hate you, and your millions and millions of loyal followers (though we could not find the address of a single one of them), and firmly suspect that you all suffer Superior Tradition Disorder, due to the nature of how you obtained your superior knowledge and position.

Furthermore, we consider it high treason and heresy for you to reveal super-duper oath-bound for millennium occult secrets, such as "You will go blind if you stare at the sun too long," and "If you wear white national garb long enough, even if it is for hipster irony, people will think that you are a fascist," and "All spells are better with a little egg rubbed in your wanker."

In addition...

[Chronicler's note: Truncated to avoid torturing any more pixels or eyeballs. Seriously, the sample went on for another ninety-two pages--who has time to read all that?!? But given how many ads they take out, someone must be reading and paying for the service. You won't just do this to look important, would you?]

Sincerely, Vittorja d'Aquino, the Great Gherkin's favorite hand puppet.

That concludes our small sample of the excellent service you will get from Mega Force Death Threats Subscription Service. Just remember that we are the best in the field of totally real looking false death threats. Subscribe today!!!

Number One with a bullet

It was the greatest day of his entire life, Minotaur Jones thought as he watched the news. His views was going though the roof; merchandise was flying off the shelves of his online store; and his predictions were coming true--the Crusade to Wash Evil Out of America had begin.

Or at least, it would begin as soon as the Presidential Official Real News Network confirmed what he already knew--that evil Black Mexican Muslim Socialist Liberal Lizards had enlisted evil Jewish Witches to destroy America--let the cleansing of America begin. Given the number of deaths, President Earl Midas would finally have no choice, but to utter those long awaited words, "We must purge all non-whites and non-Christians from the United States of America."

It was quite simply glorious.

Minotaur wondered if it was too early to summon up his militia, the Bullet-Proof Wizards of the Pure Bloods. Surely, the President was going to need all able bodied men and women to pick up arms and drive the impure out of the country. Looking at the most recent comments, Minotaur smiled--there was no need to issue a summons; his viewers, his noble and pure followers, were already talking about assembling.

It was quite simply glorious.

Minotaur imagined the President pinning the medal of Greatest American Ever on his chest, after a successful campaign to drive the unbelievers and corrupt from their fair lands. And his militia would suffer no losses; after all, they had the bestest magicks and were bullet-proof. Everyone would have to acknowledge that he was the greatest Adept that the world had ever seen, greater than even the son of God (who could not be the greatest simply because his mother had been Jewish). It was going to be glorious.

Sure, it was a shame that people lost their lives. Well, it was a shame that true believers and those of pure blood had lost their lives. It was always a shame to lose those who supported his ideas and who represented the ideal humanity, humanity as God intended it to be before the reptilian aliens descended on the Garden of Eden and tempted Eve with their impure dark flesh.

But as for any non-white, non-Christian lives lost, well, they were all going to have to be purged from the human race anyways. The sooner they were eliminated, the sooner that almighty God could descend on consecrate humanity to embark on their next great adventure.

First, the United States of America needed to be restored to the original holy vision that the Founding Fathers had for it--an all white, all Christian nation. Then the United States would have to liberate the other countries of the world from their non-white, non-Christian alien lizard supported governments, and would have to purify all the alien influences lurking in the colored skins and false religions of the world. Then God would descend, bless humanity, and humanity would raise up into the stars carrying the crusade to the home worlds of the corrupting lizards, liberating the universe from their evil influence.

And he, Minotaur Jones would be on the front lines of the whole glorious crusade. He would be a six star Admiral-General, the leader of righteous humanity, leading his army of star marines (his militia would be officially made part of Earth Defense by the immortal President of Earth, Earl Midas); he would lead the charge as his bullet-proof wizards across the universe making it into the perfected image that God originally intended. It was going to be glorious.

"Oh goody," Minotaur Jones exclaimed as the announcer of the Presidential Official Real News Network announced that they were about to replay the most glorious moment in human history. He better hurry and microwave his popcorn, and pour himself a tall glass of American whiskey before the replay started--he wanted to commit this glorious moment in all its splendor to memory.

This NovelRama project is not funny at all--I thought that it was supposed to be a satire.

President Midas greatest moment

It was the absolute worst day of his presidency, President Earl Midas thought to himself as he watched the unfolding drama playing on the news. Everyday was the worst. While he could not imagine how tomorrow could be worse, he knew it would be. It was the story of his entire presidency--each day worse than the day before.

He was getting far too old for this. For god's sake, he was an hundred and nineteen. Or was he seventy? Or thirty? He was so old that he could not remember how old he was.

And there was no end in sight for his presidency. He was the most popular President in the history of the United States of America. His supporters were the most loyal, and their numbers increased all the time. At the beginning of his presidency, there was hope that it would end. But then he got re-elected to a second term. There was still hope for him--then his followers repealed the twentieth-second amendment, the quickest change to the Constitution in the history of America, and he was elected for a third term, and then another...and now, it felt like he had been in office forever. Quite simply, he was now President-for-life. Sure, every four years, someone ran to oppose him, but his supporters constantly reelected him--his opposition never got enough votes to weaken his hold on the presidency.

His hold, he thought, more like his supporter's hold. He hadn't even been sworn into office when he realized that the office was the worst possible job in the entire world. But his supporters did not care, all they cared about was remaking the country in their own image, and he was their tool for doing exactly that. True Americans, they called themselves. More like true nagging citizens, he thought.

True nagging citizens--not to be confused with devoted nagging citizens or real nagging citizens. And nothing like independent nagging citizens, or caring nagging citizens. And completely different from the never zealous nagging citizens or the beautiful powerful nagging citizens. And nothing in common with the liberating nagging citizens or the galactic nagging citizens, or even the sympathetic nagging citizens. And definitely not at all like the never voting nagging citizen, who still thought that their opinions and desires should be addressed by the government, and the undeserving nagging citizens who sucked up government resources, and the undefined nagging citizens who made every freaking decision into a randomized outrage. And absolutely definitely not anything at all like the illegal and undocumented non-citizens, who not only nagged but also somehow managed to vote every freaking election, no matter how many of them were deported from the country.

To keep things straight, President Earl Midas often thought of them as the animals that the illegal political cartoonists drew them as. His true Americans with their symbol of the majestic lemming against the horde of unholy unicorns, cowardly lions, flying monkeys, groping octopuses, colorful and deadly poisonous jellyfish, brave panthers, Frankenstein monsters, angry bowls of petunias, slimy hydras, Cheshire cats, vampiric mosquitoes, insidious ink-blobs, carpenter ants, and electrifying will-o-wisps. He wasn't quite sure how his supporters overcame all the assembled opposition every freaking election, but they did.

And the true nagging citizens were all waiting for him to chirp about the horror unfolding on the television. He could not remain silent; he could not wait to find out what was really going on. No, he had to condemn someone, setting the angry mob against some villain, because his supporters demanded this from their President. He looked at the cell phone in his hand, and thought about flushing it down the toilet before going to his desk and signing the letter saying that he had enough and just wanted to go home to the trailer park that he grew up in. But no, his supporters would not let him do that.

So he started to punch in a condemnation of the horror on the screen...

NovelRama gets cheesy.

Satirist calls someone a bastard for stealing the title of his novel

A lot of people think that the life of a satirist is easy. After all, you just sit around, observing life, and then you make jokes about the events you are observing until the events are no longer recognizable and your stories could not possibly be true.

Well, it is not that easy...for some people insist on living a life of satire, walking though life being nothing more than stereotypes, and generally making the work of the satirist harder than it should be.

The satirist had a devil of a time trying to make this satire be stranger than the events that he was commenting on.

First, there was the state of politics as he was writing it. No matter how strange and bizarre the previous day was, the next day was even more stranger and bizarre than the day before. The universe was rapidly headed to hell in a hand-basket one hundred and forty characters at a time. It is a sad state of affairs when you know that your best jokes are going to be topped by a five in the morning, straight from the bathroom chirp.

[Author's additional note: I have been informed by Chirper that if they knew that the President of 'Murica was going to govern though their platform that they would have never invented it. PoofPhoto and HeadScroll also like to point out that their platforms were designed for fun and cat photos, and not for destroying the world either. Well, technically, HeadScroll was meant for coordinating projects among college students--they were as surprised as the rest of us about how many college projects involve cats sitting in boxes.]

Second, there was the ongoing mental health crisis among occultists of all stripes. If you do not believe that this is true, the author dares you to follow the occult scene on any of the aforementioned social media sites. Within an hour you will see more madness and bloated Napoleon-like egos than the doctors of Bedlam, Arkham, and Belliview see in an year. For real fun, suggest that all occultists should be on meds, though one might want to leave early to avoid the inevitable rabble armed with flaming torches and pitchforks that follows such a comment.

Third, there seemed to be an unlicensed time machine (or maybe a couple of dozen) involved in the events that the satirist was faithfully documenting. We will see evidence of this periodically throughout this fantastic tale of magic and wonder. For now, let's observe what just happened to the satirist.

"Yeah, I have the perfect name picked out for my satire. It is M--k W--s. What? When? Where? Hang on, what was the website again? Oh sweet baby Jesus! The f**ing bastard has gone and trademarked the name of the title I was going to use."

The author sighs, "Bloody hell, I am now going to have to come up with an even stranger sounding title. How the hell did he pick the exact same title that I was going to use?"

"Magic? Divination?" The author strokes his manly Viking sorcerer beard. "No, it is that damn bloody time machine. Maybe if I am lucky, the Great Gherkin will use it to travel back in time and kill off his grandfather before his mother was conceived, and I can have my title back."

Can I interest you in some...DRAMA?!

What is NovelRama

Welcome to NovelRama month on my blog.

What is NovelRama?

It is a virtual writing event where novelists attempt to hack out twenty-five thousand words in the space of four days.

Over the space of the month I am going to post my rough draft from my latest NovelRama attempt (July 28, 29, 30, and 31).

Why?

Because it is more entertaining than the nonsense I ended up talking about last month.

Well, maybe not for you.

But it amuses me to do so--and it is my blog--therefore, welcome to NovelRama month!

NovelRama--because sometimes it is all about the word count.

Wrestling with my own mental health demons

One of my ongoing concerns with the occult community, and let’s be honest—the world in general, is what I can only view as an ongoing mental health crisis. I have joked on more than one occasion that one can hop onto any online occult forum and see more mental illness in an hour than your average mental health care professional sees in a week. I have also joked that the quickest way to be burned at the stake by other occultists is to suggest that meds are a viable option to treat some of the over-the-top behavior you see on such forums.

I am especially sensitive to the issue because of my own background. For years, I walked around being an untreated bi-polar with…well, let’s just say that the local community can provide a laundry list of other possible mental health issues that I might be suffering from—the most serious of which is that I have a tendency towards serial ax murdering. At least one person in my family also needed treatment—my dear mother was probably also bipolar with tendencies of serial ax murdering.

“Do you suffer from Bordenitis? Do you frequently sharpen hatchets? Do you get a crazed look in your eyes when you can’t handle the stupidity of other people anymore? Ask your health care professional about Anti-Liz. Side-effects can include, but are not limited to, overwhelming urge to eat the entire pan of brownies…”

I am happier while on meds. And I like to think that I am a nicer person when medicated…but I could be completely wrong about that one—even on meds, I have my intense moments. If nothing else, I am less prone to random ax murderings. Unfortunately, my meds are still not exactly right, due to the glacier speed that some health care systems operate (it took over an year from the time my regular doctor decided that maybe I should be on some meds to the issuing of the first prescription—the wheels of mental health care move extremely slow).

The fact that I am a better person on meds surprised me. During high school, my grades tanked. I went from being an A and B student to being a D and F student in the space of just a couple of months. What happened was that my father lost everything (car, house, etc.) in a business failure, and we were forced to move from Denver to Brush, Colorado. And my dear mother lost her mind.

Now, my mom was always a little crazy. But over the years, it got steadily worse. The loss of her house did not help any. The move to Brush corresponded to the start of what can only be politely described as child abuse. It is amazing how quick your grades can drop when you are forced to put babysitting your siblings above your homework, when violence is bestowed for any disobedience, and you are constantly called stupid and retarded for your failing grades.

The school district was concerned about my sudden drop in grades. They were worried that I might have suffered brain damage somehow. They had me tested. And I was not allowed to know what they were testing me for, nor were I told the results of the tests.

This lack of information on my end allowed my mother to con me into believing that the test results showed that I was completely and utterly insane. My mother told me that the only thing keeping me out of the nuthouse was her—therefore, I had to doubly please her. This is part was how she managed to turn turned me against the social worker that the school district assigned to deal with me.

One day, frustrated with my sudden hostility, the social worker asked me why I did not trust her, and I exploded, exclaiming how my mother told me that I was doomed to be locked away in a padded cell. At this point, the social worker told me the truth about what the tests revealed—they were IQ tests, and I was not crazy or retarded; I was gifted. But this threat that my mom used poisoned my attitude—from that point on, I refused to seek out any mental health care.

Over the years, I will admit that I grew steadily more unstable. Honestly, I am lucky that I have never actually knifed someone in a fit of uncontrollable rage. What finally broke my resistance to seeking out treatment was that another aspect of my mental illness almost killed me.

There is no one that knows me for longer than an hour, who does not know that I have self-destructive tendencies. But most do not catch onto the fact that my self-destructive tendencies include thoughts of suicide. A few years ago, I came awful close to taking my own life. Regular readers of this newsletter will remember a period a few years ago where my column did not appear for several months—well, I was under the influence of such a dark cloud that I was incapable of writing and was just one bad hour away from ending it all.

It is not something that I like to admit. And even today, I have those moments where this overwhelming cloud of darkness descends upon me, and I once again consider just stepping out of this body. I do my best to conceal this from my friends and loved ones.

So why am I talking about it today? Well, just ten days ago, my mother-in-law committed suicide. In her case, it was because of a tar ball of health issues, including chronic pain and lack of sleep (her doctor took away her sleeping pills over an year ago). She decided to end it all because she could just not handle the pain anymore. And as one might imagine that event has unleashed echoes of my own mental health issues.

I still wrestle with mental illness. And I know that I am not alone. I sincerely hope that someday that we as a society properly address the mental health care crisis that rots unseen in our society. And I hope that I live long enough to see it happen. Blessed be.

I am so counting this newsletter column towards my NovelRama word count.