The Ghost Of Bridget Bishop

Does the name Bridget Bishop ring a bell? It would be remarkable if it did.

Bridget Bishop was the first woman to be hanged as a witch in Salem, Massachusetts, in 1692. Eighteen other women were subsequently hanged, along with one elderly man who was pressed to death. All were convicted of being Satan worshiping witches. Based on what evidence, you may ask? None. They were murdered per allegations, waged by hysterical children and religious zealots. It was alleged by her accusers that Bishop, with the merest of glances, could inflict fits and paroxysms upon them. Her trial lasted eight days. Quite speedy, expedited by growing hysteria within the Salem community, and the absence of deliberating over evidence. There was none.

No doubt the accusers, the law enforcers and the Puritan hierarchy which included the notorious Cotton Mather, believed they were being diligent and dutiful in affecting the harsh will of God. After all, was not the New World the battleground in the war between Satan and God? There were no recantations or regrets, let alone remorse from the righteous Christian soldiers who issued the condemnations and pulled the lever on the gallows. Bishop’s reported last words were, “I am innocent. I am no witch. I know nothing of it.” Were any of the executed truly in league with the Devil? In hindsight, the question itself is absurd.

Fast forward about three hundred years to a quaint California coastal city called Manhattan Beach, where the McMartin preschool was located.

In 1983, Judy Johnson, mother of one of the McMartin preschoolers, reported to the police that her son had been sodomized by her estranged husband and McMartin teacher, Ray Buckey, who was also the grandson of the school’s founder Virginia McMartin. Why did Judy Johnson, who was an alcoholic and diagnosed with acute paranoid schizophrenia, conclude that her son had been sodomized? Because he had a series of painful bowl movements. There are mothers in this world who would have contacted a gastroenterologist if the symptoms persisted. But Judy, a stranger to Occam’s Razor, instead contacted the police. In addition to the sodomy accusation, Judy also made accusations that other McMartin staff engaged in beastiality in front of the children and that Ray Buckey could fly. At this point one might assume that discerning members of the Manhattan Beach Police investigating unit might conclude that Judy was- well, bat shit crazy, and buried the case in the coo coo file and moved on to more pressing matters. But nay. They elected to do something that still ranks at the apex of law enforcement stupidity. They mailed form letters to about 200 parents of McMartin students informing them that Ray Buckey had been arrested for suspected child molestation, and their children should be questioned as to having witnessed, or been the victim of, oral sex, fondling of genitals or buttocks and sodomy under the pretense of taking the children’s temperature. Also, had they ever seen Buckey disappear with a child during nap time or tie a child up? A questionnaire was to be completed and returned in the enclosed stamped envelope ASAP! Then it was off to the races.

Hysteria spreads like wild fire doused in kerosene. Several hundred children were interviewed by an L.A. based abuse therapy clinic run by a woman named Kee McFarlane. A well known local T.V. reporter named Wayne Satz was assigned to the case. It was later learned that Satz and McFarlane had struck up a romantic relationship. Many of the questions posed to the children were suggestive and leading, tantamount to, “Bobby, did Mr. Buckey ever touch your privates? No? Well Billy said he did, and you’re as smart as Billy, aren’t you?” Ah, to have one’s lover leak lurid and lascivious information. Satz was like a pig at the pastry wagon in his nightly reportage.

When the trial began, Judy Johnson’s alcoholism and mental illness were withheld from the defense by deputy D.A. Robert Philibosian, who was also accused of committing perjury. Oh, this milk train had enough for everyone! Such an opportunity to gain notoriety and establish brands. A clinical psychologist for the defense testified that after viewing the videotaped interviews, that the children’s statements were coerced and scripted.

In addition to Buckey, his mother, grandmother and several other McMartin staffers were charged with 321 counts of child abuse. There were two trials; one in 1987 and one in 1990. Ultimately all charges were dropped. Ray Buckey had spent five years in prison. Several children later recanted their testimonies. Not a scintilla of evidence was ever produced. Mary Fischer of the L.A. Times stated that the case was “Simply invented.” The McMartin preschool was later demolished, along with the lives of the accused.

And all of this brings us to Andrew Cuomo, governor of New York, who, facing imminent impeachment, resigned today. Questions abound:

(1) 11 women have accused him of sexual harassment. Some of the allegations, like grabbing a woman’s breast or buttocks, are disturbing. Others are disturbing by their vagueness. Allegations of “inappropriate behavior” or “unwanted touching”could be placed on a wide, subjective spectrum. For some people an embrace, pat on the back or even a handshake may be unwanted. Key question- did he know at the time the touching was unwanted? Cuomo’s m.o. has always been a “touchy-feely” politician of the old school.

(2) Is there any tangible evidence supporting his behavior? Eye witness corroboration? videos, text or sext messages?

(3) At what point do uncorroborated accusations equate to guilt? Is there a general rule of thumb, or better, a mathematical formula or equation? Is there a threshold- say, less than five equals hearsay, one equals he said she said, over ten equals guilt? Are points given or taken away based upon the perceived veracity and character of both accuser and accused?

(4) What ever happened to the concept of due process? Of reserving judgement until both sides have presented evidence and all parties have been vetted? All human motives are mixed motives. What do the accusers have to lose? Or gain?

(5) Why now? Did Cuomo have a lascivious transformation after 60? He’s been in politics for decades. Surely there must be incidences from years ago?

Do I think Cuomo is, at least to some degree, guilty? Probably. Do I think there is at least a possibility he is not? Certainly.

11 women have accused Cuomo. They can’t all be wrong, can they?

Ask the ghost of Bridget Bishop.

When Hatred And Stupidity Collide

There is a now infamous picture of six members of a ragtag group of Michigan militia called the Wolverine Watchmen, standing against the wall of the Michigan State Capital Building, decked out in full battle regalia, staring balefully at the camera. Their AR-15 long guns are visibly brandished, combat ready. They are part of an armed protest staged on April 30th, 2020. Fury and outrage are in the air. Why are they there? Because Governor Gretchen Whitmer, like numerous other governors in the country, was using her authority to affect the greatest good and safety for the greatest number by shutting down her state and mandating mask wearing in the face of the deadliest pandemic in a century. The Wolverine Watchmen believed this warranted dragging her into the street and hanging her. But first she must be exposed. Social media was flooded with photo shopped images of Whitmer with her head on Hitler’s body, and another with her head on a porn actress’s body with the caption, “Gross slut fucks whole state.” Oh, such witty wordsmiths these Watchmen be! The delicious irony. Nazis depicting Whitmer as a Nazi. Do they know what a Nazi is? Do they know who they are? Or perhaps they were deliberately engaging in irony, as wordsmiths are wont to do.

Questions abound. Doesn’t this reaction seem, well, perhaps an eensy bit excessive? Whitmer is relatively young, attractive and one of the few women governors. Would such a draconian response be levied against a gnarled old man? The Wolverine Watchmen, brave patriots all, felt compelled, for the good of the country and preservation of the Constitution, to take action. Drastic action.

The main stream media, according to Watchmen member Adam Fox, had grown overly harsh towards militias, those stalwart sentinels of the American Way (as in way back, before the Civil War). As he so eloquently expressed on a clandestine recording, “They (the media) fucking called us domestic terrorists,” he stated, hurt and incensed. “We want to take that stigma off and let them know who we are because we’re not fucking racists, we’re not White nationalists. We just want our fucking Constitution and we want all these lawless fucking tyrants out of fucking power. It’s that simple.” Could Patrick Henry possibly have stated it better?

Extreme times demand extreme measures. The measure? Well duh. Whitmer must be kidnapped and executed. Plans were drawn, including maps, surveillance and videos of the governor’s property. There were practices and dry runs in the woods. A bridge would be blown up as a diversion, then the governor’s house would be breached and she would be snatched and grabbed. Lickety split. Easy as pie. Yeah. Pulling off the kidnapping and murder of a governor of a major state would be problematic, to say the least, for the Mossad or Seal Team Six. But were not the Watchman highly trained and intelligent operatives, knowing who to trust and when not to talk? As another of the Watchmens’ eloquent orators was recorded as saying if Whitmer was in his clutches, “I’m going to do some of the most nasty, disgusting things that you have ever read about in the history of your life.” Ah, nothing like a suave urbane assassin, radiating charm, a real lady killer if you will.

But, as fate would have it, early on an FBI informant had infiltrated the group, and, perhaps unsportingly, had worn a wire at all times. Soon thereafter multiple FBI agents had infiltrated, and the Watchmen were surrounded from within. At some point, one of the more observant Watchmen could have pondered, one might think, “Who in the hell are all these new guys?” But nay, perhaps they were so focused on their plan that their peripheral vision became blurred, plus those FBI boys can be so ingratiatingly brotherly.

By October 8th, 2020, while training near a barn, the doors burst open and The Watchmen were swarmed by FBI agents. Thirteen men were arrested and charged with plotting to kidnap Whitmer and violently overthrow the state government. Were they White Supremacists? No. Not even White Mediocratists.

And so a glimmer of hope. The dark forces of hate, racism and misogyny may be plotting and conspiring to wreak havoc on our increasingly precarious democracy, but alas, are probably too stupid to pull it off.

Ain’t Nothin’ But A Thing (Stream Of Consciousness From The Red Wing Chronicles)

Slavery. Are we not all slaves on some level and to some degree? We take orders all of our lives from parents teachers bosses cops captains generals and if we rebel there are consequences parental restrictions detentions tickets terminations court martials imprisonments executions racks thumb screws floggings flailings and even god forbid severe scoldings and eyebrow raisings. So behave yourselves watch your manners hold your tongues don’t talk back hop to it salute curtsy bow kneel don’t sass back pull over when you see red lights flashing in your rear view mirror and sirens screech keep your hands on the wheel is there a problem officer yes sir no sir what’s that you say sir I didn’t signal when I turned but officer I never turned the road is straight for twenty miles behind and twenty miles ahead I could’t turn if I wanted to uh oh wrong response don’t give me no lip boy don’t reach for that gun in your pocket boy but officer I don’t have a gun in my pocket I’m just happy to see you double uh oh some people have no sense of humor shots are fired your brains splatter a 9mm is discreetly placed in your hand then those five magic words taught in Cop 101- “I feared for my life.” No video no witnesses no crime. Ain’t nothin’ but a thing.

We think we’re slaves? We think our servitude is bad? Think twice unless you’re Black.

The myth. The great myth that slavery ended when Bobby Lee took the quill from Ulysses Grant and signed on the dotted line. The great war is over slavery is abolished emancipation is proclaimed free at last free at last well don’t be too fast loosening your shackles. Good old Abe as naive as he was appealing to the better angels of our nature why it was all a nasty disagreement and we did keep it within the family we forgive you oh Sons and Daughters of the Noble Confederacy we just didn’t see eye to eye on a few things let’s let bygones be bygones but the Confederacy as treacherous as a coiled snake on a flag kept their hatred alive inside their hearts inside their bones oh Abraham you should have listened to the whispers of the darker angels and broken the backs of the traitor states annexation absorption by the victors the righteous victors The North was voracious enough to swallow The South but temperance was observed in nothing be so temperate as in the handling of vipers their states stayed intact and slavery lived on manifested in different guise in Jim Crow chain gangs lynchings segregation now segregation tomorrow segregation forever slavery dies a slow death and without a stake driven through it’s heart it will rise again not that it ever truly fell.

A flawed but decent man once asked, “Can’t we just get along?”A simple and innocent question a bit odd perhaps in light of his having been beaten half to death by a phalanx of White racist cops getting their ya yas by subjugating a big Black buck. And the city of Los Angeles The City Of The Angels nearly burned to the ground when his oppressors, their brutality rendered forever on video, were yet acquitted. It ain’t nothin’ but a thing.

Was Sisyphus in fact a Black slave, rolling the great boulder of freedom up the steep mountain and just when he thought the back breaking soul breaking ordeal was finished, when he thought he was free at last free at last, the boulder slipping from his grasp just before the summit, rolling back to the bottom oh so near and yet so far so much struggle so much turmoil endured then having to start all over again. Regression is the equal and opposite reaction to progression maybe Newton called it right so to all of you descended progeny of slaves remember your roots and loosened shackles can be ratcheted back up at the drop of a hat so watch each others’ backs and when the wind blows keep a tight grip on that snazzy new Stetson. It ain’t nothin’ but a thing.

Of Dogs And Cats (A Stream Of Consciousness Observation From The Red Wing Chronicles)

Maybe I need a pet. It might be problematic as pets need to be cared for, and I it would seem am eternally on the couch staring at my Red Wings and even if I could get up judging by the scuffs on my revered and wondrous shoes I probably wouldn’t be any more conscientious about tending to a pet than I am to my Red Wings.

Dogs. Dogs make wonderful pets. They are unconditionally loyal absolutely loving categorically devoted to us most of whom are egregiously undeserving of their love and adoration. Most dogs are better people than most people so said the wise man look at us with our wars purges holocausts pogroms persecutions prejudices inquisitions rapes murders and lest we forget our abysmal manners and lack of etiquette using the wrong fork to eat our salad ordering the wrong wine with our entre forgetting to curtsy refusing to bow stepping on feet speaking in tongues telling untruths screaming great lies bursting with pride and behaving like boors.

None of the above would ever be associated with dogs. They love us so dearly slathering us with love pure love sloppy drippy love hysterical with joy at the very sight of us smelling us with voraciousness lapping and licking us with slavish adoration yes I know you naysayers they do sometimes bite and bark the bark always bigger than the bite small imperfections flaws that only make them more endearing. Yes, there is nothing like a dog.

But cats on the other hand. Those hissing treacherous creatures blase’ when we arrive home unappreciative when we feed and pet them as if it’s their imperious due snapping at us scratching us surely they are pretenders vile venomous vipers masquerading as mammals what is their allure why do we put up with them what purpose do they serve other than meowing and making blood curdling screeching sounds dogs despise them what better recommendation to follow suit and I can attest to this: women who love dogs are more tolerant of men than women who love cats so next time the coyotes roam leave the door open.

The Secret Thoughts Of Derek Chauvin (A Prose Poem From The Abyss)

Look at them. All this fuss.

This is nothing new. My first was as a rookie. Got checked superior for adaptability on my evaluation. The same for attitude.

Young Black bitch with her video. Go ahead. I’d smile if I knew how. I didn’t think they were smart enough for smart phones.

“If he wasn’t trying to kill him, then what was he trying to do?” some of them asked. Are they serious? Did they really look at my face? My body language? Did they wonder why my hand was in my pocket the whole time?

I am a White cop and deserve my due!

I once stuck my baton six inches into an uppity Black bitch. Why not? Who’s to stop me? Back in the day.

But that’s not where the true bliss is. Let me tell you about bliss. About power. The hot rush below the belt.

Did you see the size of that motherfucker?!

Subjugating a Big Black Buck. I’m not the first. As old as the auction block- the whipping post. That’s power. That’s bliss.

That’s right. Hollar for your momma. Let’s do this nice and slow. Savor every second. Do you know how good I am at this? I could come in my pants and and none of you would know it.

Now my hands are cuffed as they take me away. Fuck every god damn one of you.

There is no justice in this new chicken shit world.

On Masturbation (A Lunatic Rant From The Red Wing Chronicles)

Whoa. What’s that in my hand? I didn’t put it there, but if not me, then who? And now, gentle readers, a few profound and salient thoughts on masturbation.

I recall hearing from an “expert” that all men masturbate. I don’t recall if all women do as well (clarification. I mean if all women also masturbate, not if all women do it as well as men because they would of course do it better, having superior dexterity in things like knitting and sewing on buttons and handling small diminutive objects in general.) Most male mammalian species masturbate, except for donkeys who have no opposing thumbs, which accounts for their horrible dispositions.

There are thousands of YouTube videos featuring voluptuous young women wearing sprayed on leotards doing intricate, contortionistic yoga postures. Spoiler alert. Women don’t watch these videos. In fact, serious yoginis are contemptuous of them. Only men watch them. Can you guess why? And are you aware that these videos are produced and financed by The American Association Of Carpal Tunnel Surgeons?

Not to get tangential, but not only do all men masturbate, but all men despise yoga as well. Men go to yoga classes for two reasons only: to gawk at voluptuous young women in sprayed on leotards doing splits, and to develop sufficient flexibility in their cervical vertebrae allowing them to perform autofellatio. Well, dream on men. It will never happen, thus proving that all men masturbate, despise yoga, and are stupid as well.

Is masturbation a sin? An unnatural act? Well if it’s unnatural, then why do all men do it? Even The Holy Roman Catholic Church has lightened up. For centuries, priests were told they’d go to Hell if they masturbated. Now they are allowed- providing they use an altar boy’s hand.

So there you are. Take it from an expert.

Take it from me.

Remembering Elizabeth Taylor

On this day ten years ago the beautiful and talented actress Elizabeth Taylor passed away. I never actually met her, but just by being in her presence under special circumstances created a special and eternal bond between the two of us. This is my remembrance and tribute to this magnificent lady.

In July of 1961, at the age of eleven, I was hospitalized for six weeks with acute ulcerative colitis. As my family had no health insurance, I was admitted on an emergency basis to what was then Cedars Of Lebanon Teaching Hospital in Los Angeles. My temperature was a 105 degrees and I was immediately given a series of blood transfusions. It was not until years later that I learned I had nearly died.

Every day, the young interns would come by and make their stops before each room, observing the pediatric patients through the glass walls and taking notes.

Although I was seriously ill, the young boy in the room next to mine was far worse. I was told he had leukemia, and through the glass window separating our rooms I could see him, growing ever more frail by the day-ghostly pale, as if fading from the world.

One day there was great excitement outside my room. An entourage of several well dressed, important looking people were coming down the hall, surrounding a couple: a dark, somewhat slight man with less than perfect skin, and a woman who drew everyone’s rapt attention. It was Eddie Fisher and Elizabeth Taylor.

She really did look like the Most Beautiful Woman In The World. In her physical and creative prime, she radiated beauty- as well as style, elegance and that difficult to define, sadly diminishing quality called class.

She was there to visit the fading boy. I could see her through the glass, talking with him and touching him gently; and I could see the fading boy responding- this beautiful, compassionate woman came to visit him- responding to her grace and kindness and, however briefly, he glowed in her presence.

Within days, his room was empty.

After all these years, I’ve never forgotten the fading boy, or the beautiful angel who gave him comfort when it was most needed.

On Good And Evil (A Stream Of Consciousness Conjecture From The Red Wing Chronicles)

The big question. Are we Good or are we Evil? Such a childlike question, black and white, in a nutshell, either or, no consideration of nuance, gradation, range scale or continuum. What, for that matter, is Good and Evil? Are they relative subjective subject to change in an eternal state of flux influenced by evolving more’s fashions flavors of the month flavors of the millennia ebbs and flows fluctuations of the stock market of the Dow of the Tao the length of skirts and the shortness of breath? No. More likely Good and Evil are pliable, clay in the potter’s hands, bendable, pliant to the smithy’s hammer retooled revised reinvented by whatever authority rules the roost at whatever given time.

Absolute. Absolute definitions of Good and Evil? Says who? You have to believe someone usually god. What god? Whose god? Whatever god you were told of indoctrinated with as a child so many competing gods the god of Allah the god of Abraham or the angel named Maroni (ah an Italian god?) the Yahweh god the The One True God everyone they all think the other god is the false god the cult god who to believe what would happen if you believed in none perhaps you’re a searcher blind wandering with a white cane better go down the right path or you might stumble and fall into the abyss, But, having said all that, there could be a consensus a solidarity perhaps universality yes that’s asking a lot but The Golden Rule is valid independent of a god I don’t want to be whacked over the head with a two by four so I won’t whack someone else with one are empathy and compassion dependent upon the grace of god or are they inherent hardwired people who feel the pain of others and want to mitigate suffering I would posit are good and those devoid of empathy and want to inflict suffering are bad building an orphanage is Good burning one to the ground after the innocent orphans have been tucked in (probably after saying their prayers thus compounding their suffering good god do you need a hearing aid!?) is Evil. But here’s the rub the fly in the ointment the elephant in the room. In a materialistic world a universe of matter and energy and nothing else can Good and Evil be palpable measurable observable under the microscope detectable through the telescope in the world of science Good and Evil have no atomic code no gnome no fossil record therefore they are metaphysical why even waste our time so say the scientists why bother we have better things to do leave these questions to the fools and philosophers go away and debate among yourselves how many angels can stand on the head of a pin. A question. A provocative question. Can there be Good without Evil or Evil without Good? Can there be a Yin without Yang a North without South tall without short rich without poor? But. But what if there is no balance no polarity no eternal law of opposites darkness without light Hell without Heaven?

And so I have descended into the sinkhole the pit the abyss of pessimism of doubt of cynicism. I believe in Hell but am skeptical of Heaven. I have seen Evil. It hovers a malignant mist a halo of darkness I have seen it etched on faces a virus moving through assemblies becoming crowds then the halos appear one for everyone radiating darkness the crowd shifts becomes a mob I have seen the leer of Evil the smug jubilation of the mob the wide mouths obscene gaping holes grinning with glee at the carnival at the warm Summer night’s picnic smile for the camera try not to drool as Black men hang from the trees

swaying in the Summer breeze.

Superstition (Stream Of Consciousness Incredulity From The Red Wing chronicles)

Superstition. After all this time all the progress at least in science and technology we have made during the last several millennia superstition and its cousins the supernatural and conspiracy theories etc. etc. persist and seem to be gaining steam.

Just look at the flat earth believers once a derided amusing fringe group have grown in numbers and influence despite overwhelming evidence the earth is round as in sphere look at the photographic evidence amassed from space by the astronauts but hold on there they say it’s fake the astronauts were actors the moon landing never occurred if it had why didn’t the astronauts prove it by bringing back some green cheese everyone knows the moon is made of the stuff or at least some kind of cheese coverup! Armstrong’s actual first words on the lunar surface were “That’s one small slice of cheddar for man, one giant block of brie for mankind” and not only that when they planted the American flag Old Glory on a stick why were the stars and stripes fluttering proudly in the breeze there is no breeze on the moon it has no atmosphere although it is rich in ambience and is still embraced by romantics and werewolves alike.

The earth is flat? Then why don’t all of you flat earth true believers form a caravan of SUV’S and drive in one straight direction and fall off the edge thus proving your theory and relieving those of us who are rational from having to endure you.

How distressing depressing and boringly ironic that history really does seem to repeat itself the arrogance of ignorance rears its odious head time after time thinking it is competitive with or more probably superior to facts and science. Reliable sources tell me that there are people more than you might think who believe there is a conspiracy of powerful people politicians moguls actors media elites who comprise a cabal of Satan worshipping cannibalistic pedophiles operating out of pizzerias how can this be well into the 21st century a conspiracy theory of such flamboyant stupidity? They’ve got to be putting us on but nay they are deadly serious and I mean deadly. They believe the cabal must be exposed and executed who needs evidence facts proof that’s for those hoity toity high falutin’ scientific types no the truth is not under the microscope or observed through a telescope it’s not in the lab or the test tube look elsewhere for the truth it’s in the tea leaves the chicken entrails the crystal ball rumor has it read it in a tabloid go to the internet ah for the good ole’ days the witch burning days the Inquisition days ah yes those inquisitors would know how to handle Satan worshipping cannibalistic pedophiles put them on the rack tighten the thumb screws hoist them to the ceiling by their arms tied behind their backs oh those Medieval monks were such a playful bunch giggling as they plied their craft Science is the true Devil’s handiwork throw Galileo in the dungeon make him recant the heresy such heresy the earth and the other planets revolve around the sun- Blasphemy! The earth is the center of the universe the sun and the planets revolve around the earth how do we know tell us you inquisitors inquisitive minds want to know reason is a dangerous thing the earth is stationary solid in the center of the universe and oh by the way it’s as flat as a pancake.

On The Sadistic Humor Of Traffic Lights (A Stream Of Consciousness Rave From “The Red Wing Chronicles”)

Driving. Traffic lights. We can’t live with them and we can’t live without them. But they have buttressed a long held misgiving of mine a belief easily dismissed as irrational absurd unscientific and mathematically impossible. The belief? The belief is that traffic lights are not what they seem. They are intelligent sentient discerning discriminating all seeing beings watching us as we watch them and oh they have their favorites they smile at some and beam good fortune green green always green for the chosen- green as the grass after rainfall green as cash fresh off the mint green as emeralds polished by master gem cutters green as envy yes envy is what I feel watching these lucky souls glide through intersections with eternal e-tickets it’s a wonder they don’t have their brakes removed who needs them ?

Then, there are those who are despised by the traffic lights objects of eternal mockery shunned shamed cursed by them for no discernible rational reason. Those. Like me.

It’s not as if I have dishonored disrespected or denigrated those shining sentinels of safety and order recklessly ignoring their authority plowing through intersections when the lights are red shining crimson scarlet red ruby red no it’s something else perhaps prejudice for reasons even the towering traffic lights don’t understand but I understand for I am the king the accursed enemy number one for me there is one color only guess which it’s the color of blood and roses rubies and Hellfire yes red red interminable relentless red. The left turn lanes are the worst the light is green I speed up yes for once I am going to make it buck the system unravel the natural order closer closer still green I enter the lane only three cars ahead of me but lo! All three make slow lazy u-turns and as the third one begins to turn the light turns red. Or, late for an appointment I’ve got to make that light it just turned green just a little faster yes yes I’m almost there only one car in front of me the light turns yellow the car in front will surely make it easily and so will I if I step on it I pound the accelerator in the same instant the overly cautious driver in front hits the brakes oh how close I feel Mayhem’s hot breath on my neck my eyes widen like astonished saucer plates I slam the brakes that sickening screech of wheels no longer moving but the car still does the stench of burnt rubber I stop an inch before I rear end the car in front no not yet this time the traffic lights don’t want to lose me they plan to keep me around for future bliss oh the endless amusement I provide them as the light eternally turns red just as I reach the intersection and the innocent hapless souls behind me the collateral damage they also must suffer and when in the distant future the light turns green they will have nine inch toenails spider webs in their nostrils birds nests in their hair their mummified body parts torn off toted away and tagged by young, eager paleontologists.