MoonViews

I had a one-legged lover who lost her right one when she extended it in a panic between the bars to retrieve the cell phone she dropped before reading all of a text about a new makeup her friend Tiffani-Snowflake had just discovered.

Apparently the caged tiger had not been fed that day, so Amber filed suit against the Zoo and won several million dollars on a bright spring morning when I promised my priest that I would love Amber forever.

“Are you sure, Moon,” he questioned. “You’ve had many relationships. How do you know Amber is the right woman for you?”

“I can just tell, Father. You know, like your faith: you just know things without knowing why. Do you understand?”

Father Jack looked into the distance and said, “I guess.”

Amber subsequently experienced a severe depression from which six antidepressants; TiVo’d ‘Desperate Housewives’ and ‘Sex in the City’ brought no relief. I suggested serious literature but she boasted of reading a book about homosexuals having sex with fruit.

“Fuck you, Moon!” she screamed often over absolutely nothing, including my once sighing over her preparation of a salad that I had said I did not want. “Fuck you! I am no pansy!”

“Yes, my love, I know. But the alternative to not being a pansy isn't being a bitch from hell. You aren’t entering anymore ass-kicking contests, either; so perhaps you should accept your disability and do something about it.”

After months of trying to convince Amber than she could never be a martial artist, I left her. I loved her, I did; and I spent months trying to get her to see reality as it is, and each time I did, she would blame me for taking her to the Zoo.

Being the frightfully intelligent fellow that I am, I have decided to introduce something other than sappy self-absorbed poetry to this here blog. How else are you folk to learn anything without what you don't learn it here? Especially those of you who are dependent on American news and commentary, bless your malnourished, ignorant hearts. So those of you familiar with Moonvents, once so popular and now absent, may be pleased to know they will soon be back; but, for now, feast upon this the first of a new series called Moonlectures, submitted lovingly by yourn truly, Moontan the True. Or me, in other words.

But first, a cautionary note for you new readers: I don't give a hoot in hell for a man too damn dumb to figure out only one way to spell a word, and therefore I ain't all that concerned with spelling.

And now let us proceed to your edification, Moonbeams. To Wit ...

The Good Book tells us that "in the last days perilous times shall come." Things are just going to be all screwed up. Folks will call good things bad, and bad things good. Pedophilia might even become respectable. Infanticide, too. Maybe even group sex (although here I hasten to add I'm not all that certain about that one.) Anyhow, things in general will be all backwards. People won't be safe in the home or out of it. Men will act like women; women will act like men. People will mention God in speech but deny Him in their actions. And on and on and on ...

Sound familiar? I'm rather certain most of you will readily agree that we are there now, especially we of Western Civilization. And you Muslims out there who aren't busy hacking off heads will also agree, I'm sure.

Okay. So how did we get here? We didn't suddenly wake up one day in a world of shyte, Moonbeams. Nay! It was a slow progression to this mire in which we presently wallow. So how did it happen?

Bad thinking, folks. Bad thinking and nothing else.

Bad thinking necessarily precedes bad times. One cannot have a bad situation without first having had bad, or flawed, or wrong, thoughts about that situation.

Bad thinking, and nothing else. So the answer to our present dilemma first requires we correct our thinking about a given subject, whatever that subject might be. Criminology? Abortion? Drug policies? Anything ... . All that is required to correct current social deprivations is an examination of our presumptions about the issue.

Imagine a society of only 100 people. Social decay runs rampant. Nobody is safe. There is no social structure. It is illegal to be a virgin after the age of 7; it is legal to kill for the convenience of the killer. And a whole assortment of other nasties. You get the picture. Now ... how many of the 100 citizens of this society will admit to practicing bad thinking? Eh? How many people do YOU know who are strong enough emotionally to say "you know, I am just not thinking right on this issue"?

So there. I've provided you the answer to your problems, Moonbeams.

Work it out.

Do you remember
how I said I would
love you until forever
like no angel could?
Can you still see me
in your sweetest dreams,
holding on to Heaven
while the Devil screams?

I've got no hope
I've got no promise now
I'm holding empty memories
but I'll survive somehow.

I've go no reason;
just betrayed, abandoned dreams
I'm sleeping with a ghost
each night
and now it seems
I'm soon to be one,
just a vacant, see-through man,
loving what was never;
but you can't understand
your heart betrayed us,
your lies ate years of trust.
And you'll move on
to blame again
as the soulless must.

I went to a psychiatrist and said, "nobody will talk to me."

Shrink said, "Next!"

“The world weighs on my shoulders
But what am I to do
You sometimes drive me crazy
But I worry about you.”

Rush. ‘Distant Early Warning’ from Moving Pictures.

Have a dance or take a pill
Pursue a question no others will
Eat a peach one summer’s eve
Watch the way old lovers grieve

Dance with a brokenhearted doll
Promise half but give it all
Give whatever you ain’t got
Say it is when you know its not

Run toward the Promised Land
Take a stroll on virgin sand
Dream a dream from your lover’s head
Take your meaning from her bed

Paint the sky with your last name
Watch the sky return to same
Tell the maker he got it wrong
And rewrite life all night long.