Gilbert’s Mini California Christmas.

We left our homes in the good hands of watchful souls and headed out on the road. All I knew is I wanted to head south to the warm. Gilbert, the blind cockapoo with the sore back, couldn’t be left or fly this year. A road trip was the answer.

Enter the new British Racing Green 2017 Mini Cooper with room for Laura and Gilbert to have their own seats.  Lots of luggage room. I even have a roof rack if we need more space.

Our break of dawn start had a departure time of noon.  Despite crossing borders we were able to make it to Kalama a few miles north of Portland.

Motel 6 is definitely dog friendly and very convenient.  We had Beef Dip, Salad and Chicken Nuggets meals in the room from the nearby restaurant. These were shared with Gilbert who was very pleased.

The Mini handled fabulously on the highway, a delight to drive. I miss my Miata MX5 sports car but don’t have to feel the mild guilt pangs I used to have  looking accross at Laura weighted down under Gilbert and excess luggage.  I will miss the convertible but the marvellous sun roof on the Mini ameliorates the pain of loss some.

I don’t feel as cool. It’s a mini touring car and reminiscent of what my father had when he was much younger than I am now.   Laura says a lot of Mini’s have  racing stripes because they are ‘racing cars’. I certainly experienced this in the Red Wood winding highway.

At the Covered Bridge off I 5  where I fueled up we learned there was snow forecast for Mount Shasta. If I’d wanted more snow I’d have gone hunting in the Queen Charlottes or skiing in Whistler.  I didn’t come south to face a blizzard in the high mountains.  Laura was insistent she didn’t want to experience again that ugly time we had coming down the Coquahala when the ‘climate change’ (weather person) made an error and we found ourselves in freak blizzard.

At Grant’s Pass we took the 199 south and were so glad we did. Great country driving. Beautiful winding roads through the Red Woods. Suddenly we were entering California.  We eventually came out at CrescentCity on the coast. I remembered sailing my 40 foot SV GIRI by this lovely harbour a couple of times.  This coast is amazing.

We turned left when we came To Pacific Ocean heading even more south on a terrific freeway that changed into a winding coastal road that at times had red lights for the the one lane passage before returning to a freeway..

I’ve driven it a few times in each direction but it was Laura’s first time.
“The Red Woods are huge,” she kept saying.  “I love the beaches, too” The surf and smell of salt air was delightful.
 Laura kept saying,”It’s so warm it’s like spring. I see people wearing t shirts and sandals.”
I loved seeing the seagulls. The sailor in me enjoys their company.

We stopped and let Gilbert, our blind dog, gambole about off leash on the beach. He almost ran into the surf but other wise had a marvellous .time knowing somehow from memory, it was safe to run on a beach, his little tale wagging and his legs going a mile a minute.

“That’s the best Christmas gift you could have given him.”  Laura said.  We so enjoyed watching him running and skipping about for really the first time since he had his last eye removed because of the hereditary glaucoma.

Back in the Mini Cooper I sped along the winding highway as the night set.  It was dark when we reached Eureka.

Eureka used to be a major hippy town.  There was still a huge neon Peace Sign. Humboldt County Sesame was the competitor to BC Bud.  That was back in the day I had flowers painted on my face while dancing in the streets of SAN Francisco. Now the town had Nutcracker showing in the main theatre and there were a lot of ATV and sports oriented stores.

We’d liked to have gone to church for Christmas Eve but this is Gilbert’s holiday and blind he’s anxious in new places. We listened to a Christmas pod cast on advent and Christmas and listened to Christmas carols driving south today..

Now we’re going to have an early night after eating turkey wraps from Safeway. We’ve found another  dog friendly Motel 6.  I really like the Motel 6 sta..

Merry Christmas.  Thank you God and Mother Mary, Joseph, and Jesus Christ.

Strathcona Men's Christmas Dinner

It was 20 years ago that I met Scotty at the club on 7th.  He invited me to come out to Strathcona Men’s Meeting Thursday evening. I came. I felt so welcome.  They say it’s a bit ‘rough’. Mostly it’s compared with Shaughnassey Men’s.  I’ve been to Shaughnnassey’s. Nice group there too. But I never saw bikers there. At Strathcona there was that “healthy mix”  I really liked.  Carpenters and professors. Doctors and bikers. Rich and poor. Educated and street smart.
In later years there were always a few of us who’d drive up in summer on our Harley’s. We liked to park beside Malcolm’s Jaguar.  Several of the guys drove pick ups.  Ken’s was the finest. You had to imagine that antique causing a Cuban man to faint with desire. It was that splendid a machine.  As time went on you’d see the increasing self care extend naturally to the machines.
At the break we’d go out side, some to smoke, all of us to look and talk about the machines.  Ganesh had his BMW later years.  Mostly everyone had better wheels the longer they stayed.  I’m driving a 2017 Ford F350 Lariat edition truck now along with the Harley. . The guys got tired of hearing me complain about losing my Toyota sport truck early years.
Sometimes guys would talk about their girl friends or wives. Mostly they talked about their children. I talked about ex's and abortion.  At least I didn’t have court orders.  Some guys talked about being raped. A few guys had been in jail.  Several owned businesses.  More and more talked about buying houses, marriages, babies, diplomas. We often went for coffee or meals after. I loved the meetings after the meetings.  There were lots of birthdays celebrated at the Chinese restaurants on fourth.
Every Thursday night we’d gather together, mostly to laugh and weep.  A whole lot of humble soul searching too.  We didn’t hug.  We shook hands. There was Sarge. He had a way about reminding us.  Ted was there too. Brian and Ed. Bob was there when he wasn’t out east. I loved Scotty and Malcolm for their honesty.  Paul usually brought along someone new.
Some guys even moved away and still made the effort to make it there.  I did for a bit when I moved to North Vancouver.   I liked the stories most. James and Darryl,  Darren and Mike. I forget all the names but I don’t forget the stories.  Some were just too poignant.
All the guys kept me coming. When it was dark, really dark, there was a sacred light in that basement.  A cup of coffee and some other guy usually hurting more or telling about having a new child. His wife and he were back again.  We celebrated misfortune and fortune equally.
And every Christmas we’d invite the girls to come in. Strathcona Men’s was never politically correct. No one cared how you told the truth just so long as you did.
We’d have this major pot luck meal.  A big feast. Turkey, ham, potatoes, salads, cakes and pies. It was always something out of a Christmas cooking magazine.  A Rockwell Christmas Card.  Guys would put in money and food and time.  Some of the guys with the roughest hands would even twist Christmas table decorations. Reds and greens and tinsel. Little shiny things that brightened up the tables and added to the light of the  Christmas tree.  There was a lot of pride that went into that Christmas dinner.
Everyone remembered where they had been or where we’d been going before.  We were so very thankful to be a part of something that was so special that the women and guests were ever amazed.  I had tears in my eyes some years.  And yes I made a moose chilli one year to add to the table. Another year there was the scallop potato special that a grandfather was much loved for.  As time went on each guy had some unique contribution.  It wasn’t just the progress of a year that was being celebrated. Often it was the very existence of life.
There was a mixed meeting, something that room only knew that one time each year.  The ladies sure were great with gratitude. And the guys were all spiffed up.  That was the one night ‘suit up and show up’ was readily apparent.  Everyone who contributed thought of mothers, sisters, wives, daughters and girlfriends in the best of ways. And those ladies were present radiating pride and gratitude. So many families and relationships restored.  A lot of talk of parents and sharing of  good memories.
Then we all lined up smorgasbord style in that church basement.  Plates overflowing with goodness and love.  We sat at long tables on folding metal chairs. We ate with joy.  What a feast!
This year was no different.  Maybe a smaller gathering. Others were having their dinners.  After a decade and a half of coming religiously to these meetings I’d moved away and grown older and couldn’t get across town at night as easily.  I was thankful for the reminder and invitation.  Being there again was simply wonderful.  There were also the "same time next year crowd" from the Valley, people who’d moved east after years at Strathcona.   We all reminisced.  Old and young had passed away.
We say the door swings both ways but sometimes, especially these last couple of years, the young find it difficulty making their way back.
I’m older now. It’s 20 years.  This was my beginning and these men were all my mentors.  I’m so grateful.  I certainly wouldn’t have bet I’d still be still coming back 20 years later.  Strathcona Men’s has that effect.  It’s been helping men for more than 60 years now.
Merry Christmas Strathcona Men’s.   Thank you.

Gratitude Tuesday

Thank you Lord for Starfleet RV Repairs. I woke to my cat fussing beside me and the dog restless. The air was so chill were it not dark I might have seen my breath. I checked the stove to find the propane was out.  So dressing in slippers and coat I changed the propane tank and climbed back in bed.  The cat and dog stayed in bed with me.  In the morning though I had heat for coffee and hot water for showering the furnace didn’t fire. I tried all I knew, just as I had a few years ago.  Sometimes air gets in the propane lines so you bleed them by running the propane in the stove and recycling the furnace heater.  No luck. That’s all worked before except that one time in the past and now this time. Thank God for Eric at Starfleet RV Repairs. I have the poor fellow on speed dial.  Telling him my problem I went off to work not worried I’d return to a cold and miserable night.

When I lived on the boat I’d have no such saviour.  I’d have these heat problems in winter and have to wait until he weekend when I could fix them myself.  I’d have electrical outage, water shortages, propane problems. At the time it was a bit of an adventure. Going to work smelling of diesel and sometimes without sleep and cranky, showering at the office, getting my first coffee at MacDonald’s, was a challenge. Looking back I can’t imaging how I managed the home front and did the 120 hour work week running a business and managing large clinical practice. I keep thinking I was young.
Today I’m so thankful for Eric and Starfleet RV Repairs. Not only that I have Dave, and Rick and Mack as competent friends in the park with lots of advice and solutions. I had that too in the yacht world but it was a steep learning curve.  Thanks to that world the RV world is much less painful.
Today I woke to heat. Neither the dog or cat fussed in the night. The minute the alarm went off the dog was woofing and the cat was running around my legs hoping to trip me and eat my dead body.  I made my own coffee.  I love my stove top expresso machine.  I love the honey and the cream. I love the Harley Davidson mug. I love my refrigerator. I had marvellous fresh bread and peanut butter and eggs I’d boiled yesterday. Yoghurt and vitamins. I fed the dog and cat their ‘wet’ food. I changed their water then I sat on my couch, my glorious couch, looking out the large slide window at the thin line of pink dawn sky.  I love heat.  I read my emails and Facebook.

The fellow who was threatening to kill me last year had stopped sending vulgar emails after the police called to say he was threatening the prime minister. I had a few months reprieve. He’s started up again. He’s always changing he email address.It’s a reminder daily how impotent the police are today and how powerful the criminals have become. And our government says ‘trust us  we’re the government”, don’t lock your doors, don’t have a base ball bat (and glove) by your bed, know that if you pepper spray someone in your house Justin Trudeau personally will visit him and apologize to him for dinosaurs like me. I hate that I am despised by my own government and can’t defend myself while Justin Trudeau surrounds himself with walls and dozens of men armed to the teeth, just like a Mexican drug pusher.  I on the other hand wake to more threats and can’t even retaliate and frankly there is no place to hide.  Canada is a criminal country. ISIS terrorists are welcomed back to Canada and compensated for their loss. Killer Kadir is paid $10 million dollars and ‘scab voters’ ranges the city taking millions of welfare and health care dollars creating longer and longer waitlists and bankrupting the country so that none of the middle class will have a pension or time off for good behaviour, 40 years of working in Canada and giving 50 to 75% of earned income to the government who then gives it to their criminal cronies.  Quebec flourishes under the liberals and the Huffington Post girls of Toronto sound more and more shrill as they scream safe place and hate speech 24/7 .

It’s good I have heat. I am really thankful for heat. I love the running water. My missionary friend back from the Sudan talks about the lack of water for the Christian children whose parents were killed in the latest jihad.  I look forward to seeing her.  In contrast to the silly Canadian women of Toronto and Montreal she is off in Africa facing bullets and saving little children from starvation. I’m thankful for such friends.  They give perspective.
So today I drove my British Racing Green Mini to work with my wonderful blind Dog Gilbert and am thankful to be alive.  It’s a good day. I can always find things to complain about but there’s heat in my home, my car is running smoothly, my dog is well, we’re walking, I have worthwhile work to go to and the commute wasn’t delayed by bad drivers and insensitive construction.  All is well God is good.
Thank you.

It’s Tuesday.  Another day. Another dollar as they said in my child hood. Another day, one day closer to the celebration of the birth of Jesus. I love the choirs singing caroles. I love watching and hearing my friend Ben Nuttall-Smith, Christmas story the Shawl on You Tube. I loved hearing Pentonix. And I loved listening to 5 minute History of the Church on the way to work learning about St. Basil and St. Nicholas of Cappadoecaian and the Baptist Spurgeon.  What a great day. I’ll bet I even get another coffee later.
Now I must see a patient. Thank you for the knowledge to be of service.

The Person and the System of Governance

I would like to make it clear that I love authority. I’m a doctor and a specialist and a sub specialist. You simply do not get to that level of authority without respecting learning, education, leadership and frankly, being a follower. I love being a follower. I love learning. You have to be a great follower to become a leader.
I’m also a ship’s captain.  In sailing my leadership and decisions not only put others at risk but myself as well. In medicine this only occurred in infectious disease and talking with psychotic and dangerously insane people. Mostly in medicine you don’t share the risk of decisions as much as you do at sea.  Still if I said the wrong word I’d be dead to day, given the histories of so many of my patients.  Eventually I became a solo sailor. As a solo sailor I didn’t have to “worry” about others as much.
In medical practice I rose to the heights of being a consultant with my own business, a ceo with a corporation.  That’s success story, far more than I ever envisioned.  I’d been happy as a country gp.  I married unhappy women with different dreams. I hope they found what they were looking for.
The trouble today is not with the System of Governance.  It’s with the people who hold those positions.
I don’t like Justin Trudeau as Prime Minister.  I don’t like his decisions. I must follow them for now though I would like to see him impeached or removed . I fear the amount of damage he does will surpass that of  his father’s years of favouritism, corruption, debt and lies.
I don’t think that leadership is attracting the kind of people it once did. I actually admired Mr. Harper and even liked Mr. Turner.  I thought Mulroney and Chrétien were really powerful men. Mr. Martin was an extraordinarily  man.  I might not have agreed with all their policies at all times but I respected them.
The leadership today personally seems sketchy.  There’s a weakness at the core. I see it not just in the Prime Minister but throughout the beurocracies. It’s National and Provincial and Urban. Too much crime and graft and greed and sloth.
The famous Hamlet quote“Something rotten in the state of Denmark, “ comes so readily to mind.
I will follow. I’m not Bonhoeffer.  Like the Beatles,  “I don’t want a revolution.”
But I really would like leaders I could respect. Smart people with vision and character. Not weak, stupid people.  Not the Justin Trudeau’s of this world.   They have too much  greed and are far too shallow and false.  Such people rely on their position and guns that maintain that position.  Chamberlains really. Cowards. Misguided. False.
I admire the System of Governance but sure wish I could admire the person.

Mini Cooper S 2017 and Yaletown Mini

“What do you think about a road trip?” I asked.
“Where to?” She said.
“I don’t know. San Diego, maybe.” That’s about 2000 km from Vancouver Canada.
“Would you take the truck?” She asked,
“I could.”
“We couldn’t go in the Miata. Now that Gilbert’s blind and has a sore back, he’d not be able to travel that far on my lap’”
I’d thought about that. The new Ford F-350 truck is for hunting and hauling. It’s for carrying my Honda Pioneer ATV and towing my Fifth Wheel Fuzion toy hauler.  lt’s a cowboy Cadillac ride but heavy driving and not the best gas mileage. Okay if it’s doing it’s job but this would be purely for play.
I wanted to go to sunshine. It’s a hard winter in Vancouver with the constant darkness, cold and rain. I’d thought of flying to Mexico but with Gilbert now blind and having a sore back I didn’t think that a good idea. The Miata would be a great road trip ride but I didn’t want to choose between Laura and Gilbert:) Better to consider a different car.
 I sure could use a back seat. I’d like more storage room. Laura and I had enough room in the Miata for a carryon flight suitcase each. But if we wanted to buy anything there wasn’t any room. Good for a weekend trip. But not really suitable for much longer. My brother and sister in law had driven the Miata down the California coast, loved the convertible and  loved the ride but bemoaned the lack of storage. I’ve got a Harley for the joy of a ride.  I don’t really need the convertible.
Everyone I know likes the Mini.  Laura had one in her youth. Even carried her St. Bernard in it.  My motorcycling friend  Dave had had one, said it was a whole lot of fun to drive.  I need something for the city.  Something for commuting and something I can park. I’d like something I could take more gear, maybe for more than a weekend trip. Maybe camping.  Gilbert needs his own seat.
Mini Canada has a great site. I looked at all the machines.  Then I emailed Langley and Yaletown , the dealers nearby, saying I needed a sun roof, roof rack, didn’t need all wheel drive but did need blue tooth for my phone.  Other than that I wanted to know if it parked as easy as a Miata.
I didn’t hear from Langley but Kevin Smith from Yaletown got right back to me.  Said he had a show room full of Mini’s and would be glad to show me around.   Kevin was great fun.  Obvious he loved the Mini and loved his work.  Warm, kind, hard working guy.
Right off he showed me a great selection of Country Mini’s and Coopers, helping me narrow my choices down based on my comments. We zoned right in on exactly what I was looking for.   There really is a wide selection, some of the Mini selection being quite a bit bigger than I imagine.   I wanted small and maneuverable.  That’s the Cooper.
While I looked at Mini’s with Kevin someone else from Yaletown was checking out my Miata for resale potential.
What utterly astonished me was the amount of storage in all of the Mini’s.  My Miata is mostly engine.  I’m going to miss the convertible but the Mini Panoramic Sun Roof is truly a treat.  The Ford Sun Roof was a selling feature on my F350 truck too. Having a dog I need to  vent the hot  air. Being a motorcyclist I don’t get that caged feeling if a vehicle has a sun roof.    The Mini  sun roof is amazing.
I loved the interior to, really comfortable bucket seating.    Lots of design consideration.  BMW.  Heavy duty construction. Nothing tinny about it. Solid.  I loved the workmanship and little thoughtful design touches everywhere.  You just have to swing the door to know that it’s the real deal. There’s a whole lot of visibility too. I liked the mirrors.
I scheduled a test drive.  I’d considered the Soul and Fiat.  All the other cars except Laura’s Smart car were a bigger class.  I liked the Mini. Always thought it was fine looking car.  Several friends over the year told me they thought I’d like it.  In the modern city bigger cars just are too big getting around and parking. Vancouver has lost all it’s roads to bike lanes and construction too. My truck is simply too big for getting around and for underground parking.
Laura met me at Yaletown Mini.  Kevin was there waiting with a Mini parked outside.   It was a rare sunny day.  Lots of traffic. I’d thought we were going with one of the blue Minis.  I’d told Kevin, I thought just in passing,  my favourite colour was British Racing Green.  They’d not had one out in the show room.  He’d taken the time to  find one in inventory and brought it out. It didn’t have the roof rack but they could have that installed. The British Racing Green with black top is elegant.  I loved the drive, right from the get go.  Heated seats. Like my Ford there was a sensor system for backing up.  All the electronics with blue tooth were light years ahead of the 2011 Miata.  I love the electronic features in new cars and trucks.  I”m a Trekkie.  I loved the space age touches.
The drive was delightful. I pulled a u turn in the middle of the street, barely legal and  a surprise to Kevin and Laura. That’s what I wanted to see.  Could I make such a tight turn fast enough because that’s what I’ve been doing in the Miata city driving in Vancouver. Sure enough it did the turn like a charm. Not one honk from behind.  It maneuvered perfectly in rush hour traffic then parked on a dime. I was impressed.  I was sold.
Back at the dealer Laura was beaming.
“Do you like it?” I asked.
“I love it.” She said.
“Would you consider a road trip in a Mini?”
“Absolutely. Gilbert would have his own seat.It’s so comfortable you could drive for days.”
Kevin showed me the figures with trade in. I’d have like a couple more thousand for the Miata but I was glad to pay for the convenience. I love trading in at dealers, not having the hassle of private sales. After my work day, the last thing I want to do is meet with strangers in the evening.  Kevin put together a good,  reasonable package and didn’t hustle. I like that. He made the whole experience pleasant.
Bo in finance completed the paper work with us.  I had the extra cost in my savings account having put aside money monthly this year just for such an eventuality. Scotia bank at the end of the block cut me a bank draft for the difference.
The long slow part was wading through the  ICBC insurance process.  The smart young man made that go as quickly as possible.  Kevin was kind enough to get me a coffee.
Laura said, “Gilbert’s going to be so happy with his new wheels. He’s just glad to go with you. I’m glad too. The Miata was a whole lot of fun and the Mini is going to be too.”
I really think about my life in terms of the vehicles I’ve had over the years.  A whole new chapter was opening.
“We could put his blanket with his smell on it and a couple of his toys .  Then he’ll know this new car is his car right away,” she mused.
Next I knew Kevin was taking me out and handing me the keys to the beautiful little machine. I shook hands and thanked him, seriously.
My Mini Cooper S  really looked beautiful.  I remembered then  British Racing Green was the colour of a car we had when I was small.  Laura was pleased. I had to drive her across town to where she’d parked her red smart car. It was fun drive.   The Mini has a whole lot of  great pick up.  Spunky little car.  Brakes well too.
After I dropped Laura off I got out the book and learned somethings about the Center display. So much information on the car, like a regular computer console.  I set up blue tooth with my iphone. The first song that played then in the car was Amy Grant’s “Holy Holy Holy” Good omen.
That night I drove around trying it out on the freeway. The Miata hugged the road better at high speeds.  The Mini performed pretty good.   Comfortable ride.  I know I’m going to miss the convertible top coming down but I loved the Panoramic Sun Roof.
Today I’ve been driving around some more in it and enjoy zipping in and out.   It parks so easily.  I brought Gilbert along.  He climbed inside curious.   Then he walked from back to front and sniffed everywhere.  At first he settled in in the back seat but not for long.  Pretty soon his little tail wagging he climbed into the front and sat down in his front passenger seat to enjoy the ride.  Laura did say she liked the back seat too.
The best part is everyone likes my Mini Cooper.

The Godless and Soteriology

I listened to Rev. Flowers Soteriology 101 pod cast yesterday.  My commute time in Vancouver was doubled by the fog. Everywhere medical marijuana drivers had slowed their vehicles down so they could collectively stare and say, “Wow, Man!” It really was surreal and beautiful.
Vancouver is a bipolar city with moods fluctuating with the weather and commutes fluctuating due to poor administration of the road services from anywhere between a 1/2 hour and 2 hours daily.  The real money in the city comes from crime and government.  The criminals and the elite live in the city. The commuters like me are just the modern peasants.
Soteriology is the study of “Salvation”.  An end days prescription.  Like George Carlin, “What is this hand basket and where are we going anyway.”  Every day a person not on drugs or willing to forego the Starbucks coffee waiting in the city, gets up and drives their car either north or east, heading to the country or the prairies just to get away from the boredom of Vancouver in the darkness of ‘daylight saving’ and the rain of winter.
Snow and sunshine seem preferable to whiplash seeking pirates looking for ICBC insurance windfalls offered daily by the legal lottery that runs the province.  Meanwhile ,why work when the government taxes the workers while giving a pass to the criminals and speculators.  It’s the same with guns. Criminals have them. But the government taxes those who own them and pay taxes on them.  So the government simply does the same with workers, demonizing them, and punishing them with greater and greater taxes while leaving the criminals to prosper.
Salvation sounds like a lovely contrast to the media circus and the daily toil of hedonist smog producing bike laned city life especially as the government is taxing the air we breathe and water is now bought and sold.  Death has an appeal.  Euthanasia is marketed medically along with marijuana.
It pays to check out the tourist brochures of the various religions ultimate destination offers.
I once wrote a paper on Heaven and concluded that Christianity and Taoism had the best resorts in the after life. I didn’t really care to fight each day in pagan Valhalla.  Hanging with virgins didn’t seem nearly so appealing since the virgins I knew weren’t a particularly a attractive lot.
As a doctor I also know that the hymen restorative surgical industry is a thriving business.  The introduction of the birth control pill removed the whole need for virginity that leftover from  the agricultural and herding days of breeding, eugenics and  and thoroughbred children.  Today 50 % of the children of divorce are by DNA study, not those of the father.  Despite this, the  Jews continue to step on glasses at wedding.  Muslims kill people who look at their promiscuous sisters.  Myla Cyress, the penultimate Hollywood disease attacting slut, rides her ‘wrecking ball’.  New religions like feminism are sources of perpetual anger and ‘offence’ , like nation states in the empires building colonial days. New colonialists.  Different names, same old, same old , game.
Soteriology says each religion and each culture had some purpose and meaning.  Today the Godless simply lie and deny that they really want the most toys at the end but their agenda always is world dominance for purely hedonistic reasons. They don’t have an afterlife so can’t really care for their own children.  All must cease to exist when they, Gods of their own making,  no longer exist. No wonder there is an opioid epidemic.
The Buddhists by contrast are the most truthful.  Soteriology or salvation for them is ‘nirvana’ , ‘liberation from suffering’.  Life is ‘samsara” or the never ending cycle of misery.  All Buddhist humor is a kind of Vietnam black humor which makes their laughter so infectious.  Even Kierkegaard the great Christian theologian said ‘life is suffering unto death’.  Quite a contrast to the promises of politicians, whores, bankers, marketting agencies, and Hollywood.  Nothingness is the reward of life.
The Christian ‘salvation’ is saving the soul from ‘sin’.  Sin is a word used to describe the ‘missing of a mark’.  Christianity like Zen uses an analogy of the archer. The archer shoots an arrow and if ‘Good intentions didn’t pave the road to hell’ the arrow would always hit the mark. Christianity like Science asks the question of ‘outcome measure’.  The ‘deviance’ from the aim is called ‘sin’. In science we’d explain the ‘error’ as ‘windage’ , ‘arrow’ material’ , ad infinitude.  Christians say that sin follows from separation from God. Salvation is made possible in Christianity by the life and death and sacrifice of Jesus Christ, (God entered his creation, lived it, found it in error ,  corrected it, died and resurrected..  The cross of Christianity is the ‘cross road”. It’s all about choice and freedom of choice. Also I imagine God was just a tad cross as his creation when it killed his creatures killed him suggesting either a design error, a Robert Graves sacrifice of the king or downright naughtiness of children unattended. Apparently the computer reset didn’t take a Noah flood but the cosmic fix could be put in with ‘love’.
There is also however a pesky issue of ‘predestination’ and ‘grace’ .Soteriology addresses these ultimately Unchristian factors in Christianity.
A good Christian gets ‘mansions in heaven’ and time with God.  Virgins are apparently optional and singing replaces war. It sounds much more appealing as you get older.  You also get a new body while the Muslims must make due with the resurrection of the one they died in. This explains the mass exodus of male followers of Islam to Christianity after they have suffered castration by whatever means.
Only 1 in 1000 Muslims actually get to any kind of heaven so it’s a lottery system anyway with most ending up in fire and despair just like some Christian sects who feel the stick is far better than the carrot for managing the followers. Corruptions naturally goes along with either lottery system.
The Judaism Soteriological construct is as a collective not like Christianity which is individual. Jews are never individual tourists but must travel by the bus loads. The attraction of aetheism for the likes of Marx and other Godless Jews is that many Jews simply don’t believe in an afterlife “The dead know nothing. They have no reward.”  However other Jews do believe in an afterlife, though not nearly as attractive in terms of housing as the Jewish Christian sects believed.
In Hinduism Samedhi or Moksha is the escape from ‘samsara’ the cycle of death and rebirth.  This may mean like the Buddhists a loss of individuality but it might also mean a simple closing of this book before the opening of the other. This goes with the idea of this ‘caterpillar’ existence where enlightenment is a ‘butterfly’ existence. How can a caterpillar know as a butterfly. “I am the bubble make me the sea’.  There’s closure and possibility without the idea of a human ‘body’ or the anthropomorphism associated with the mystery religions.  The Sikh seed the ‘union with God’ as a drop of water joining the sea.
There’s a sense with the Godly that we’re all going in the same direction in a sense. Pesky pagans preparing to fight forever are as challenging to be around as those who truly believe that this is it and there are no consequences, except perhaps indigestion, for eating one’s neighbour.
Rev. Francis was challenging the Calvinist notion of preditermination, the idea that God’s chosen are already picked and the out come is ‘fixed’.  This has an anthropormorphic quality considering however we find that elections, soccer games and leadership positions are ‘rigged’.  Why not think that God has ‘rigged’ this life. The least taught book of the Bible, Job, certainly challenges the notion of Satan and dualism. Satan might well have been God’s companion creation or alter ego before the creation of more entertaining humans with delusions of free will.
Personally I’ve considered myself a ‘voice over’ on a ‘comic strip’ .  The question then is who is the writer. I’m writing my life or God or worse ‘the Borg Government of Canada’. And if the ending is ‘fixed’, as my dope smoking friend believes, “why worry, be happy.”
There’s a notion of ‘happy cabbages’ and I find when I ask people ‘why’ or ‘where are you going’ or ‘what do you want in the big picture’ they commonly simply shit themselves.  I know that beurocrats are the most disturbed by that question. They hide behind platitudes and swagger with confidence but the seed of doubt and the depth of fear is so readily apparent in their eyes.
Most who join armies have said simply, I don’t know I don’t care I just want to be a tool.  I’m here to pay for my family because that hedonistically feels good. Others believe the signs offering travel and education.
I am no more than an animal, they say. I mimic the words and motions of man but really no more. Everyone agrees with me. I represent everyone. I’m schizophrenic and leave me alone. Don’t ask me such questions!!!!
Soteriology. Thank you Rev. Flowers.

If love is the answer

If love is the answer, then you would defend yourself and your family and friends.  I just watched Felon last night. It was a powerful movie about a man falsely accused and incarcerated for defending his family.  It’s message encouraged one to consider just how many people are in jail who are indeed not guilty.
False accusations are increasing exponentially with the rise again of socialism.  In communist countries ,the ultimate expression of socialism, the standing joke was when three people were gathered together, one of them was an informer.  In socialism there is always someone who believes they can improve their lot by accusing another to the authorities.
Those who do make false accusations are sometimes just garden variety psychopaths and sociopaths, more common than many believe. The other sort  are developmentally psychologically immature and falsely accuse their neighbours to please their mommy or daddy, whichever one they feel rejected by and to psychologically conceal their own ‘dirty’ secret.  Of course there are good citizens. But historically part of good citizenship was the ‘openess’ of knowing who your accuser was.  Today ‘mind your own business’ goes hand in hand with the realization that a life in ‘witness protection’ might not be what one personally envisioned.  The check and balance of ‘accusation’ among good citizenry was that it was not done ‘lightly’ as it is today with everyone ‘offended’ and everyone a ‘critic’.
In the Judeo-Christian view from which western laws derived it was taught ‘thou shalt not judge’ and ‘thou shalt not bear false witness’ was one of the 10 commandments along side ‘thou shalt not murder’.  Jesus taught that if you see fault in your neighbour you should first pluck the timber out of your own eye before trying to take the sliver out of another’s.
Yet today, with a society ‘externalized’ by Hollywood and other media celebrations of the evil villains and superhero’s , along with all the propaganda, self reflection is discouraged.  Blame is the name of the game.  Deny deny deny is the answer the lawyer tells the accused.  Notice it’s not ‘silence’ but ‘deny’.  This message to the innoscent and guilty alike is given again and  again in the ever more popular police stories.  From the earliest age children are taught to lie even if they need no encouragement.
If love is the answer, then one needs to beware of Canada’s increasing failure to address ‘perjury’ in the courts.  Further in beurocratic agencies false accusations are sadly apart of the industry of encouraging people to spy on their neighbours and report their neighbours to the authorities.
This is seen in the ‘anonymous ‘tip’ lines’ which are naturally commonly abused.  The extent of the abuse is seen in social services where disputes between mothers on the play ground for whatever reason are sometimes followed by that awful call to child’s services with the claim that one neighbour is doing something wrong.
That these are not being investigated and front and centre of any discussion reflects the need of authorities to maintain their autocratic positions by any means. The loss of ‘truth’ in society is just one casualty that follows this drive to war and anarchy created by the fundamental failing of law and order.
If there is no truth there is no real law and order. In communist countries truth died first.
We are seeing the ‘fake news’ of CBC news, Vancouver Sun and CNN.  These alt left and alt right media compete in lies. Harvard University reported that 75% of CNN news coverage during the recent election was highly biased (essentially ‘untrue’).
Truth is the first casualty of war.
If love is the answer, then truth is the question.