Trump’s hair blows away.
Thankfully not the Dem’s much-hated
Emperor’s clothes.

Between what’s ‘good’ and what’s ‘great,’ there’s a vast difference being overlooked. Often they’re lumped in with the likes of ‘high, higher, highest.’

But if closely examined, the distinction can be seen right away. The United States is a great nation, but then so is China, Russia and France, to select a few in the recent news. But more importantly, the U.S., with its historical warts and all, is a good nation.

A nation’s goodness isn’t necessarily measured by its size, its military strength or even its past mistakes, but by the fact it’s a positive force in the world.

“There appears to be an altering of our reality taking place,” the tall lanky man standing at the window stated.

“What do you mean?” his shorter, heavier friend asked.

The first man turned slightly, “Come. See for yourself.”

The second man at the window agreed, “But what is that running along Baker, Holmes?”

“It appears to be a ‘Scarecrow,’” he answered. “Quick Watson, the games afoot and don’t forget your Bulldog!”

The two rushed from the flat and into the nearly silent street. By then the figure had disappeared, but it didn’t deter them from heading in the same direction.

The ‘Scarecrow’ ran far enough ahead as to stay in sight, but not close enough as to get caught. Holmes had deduced from this that the person – if indeed that’s what it was – wanted them to follow, but he didn’t know where.

Outside of London, the pair raced along a footpath and down a hill and back over another hill only to come to the entrance of a large tunnel. Knowing every inch of London and it’s rural out-layings, Holmes knew the tunnel, which was more like a cave, had never existed before.

He paused and using his keen sense of detection, looked the gaping wound in the earth over. Unable to assess whether it was safe or not, he rushed head long into it’s darkness with Watson close on his heel.

Once inside, Watson commented, “I don’t think we’re in London anymore.”

“Quite right, my dear Doctor.”

From out of the blackness a figure could be seen moving. Both the detective and doctor saw it and gave chase.

Without proper torches, neither man could see well enough to make out details of the figure they were following. Without warning, they heard a scuffle, punching, kicking and then silence.

Then the cave came to life with bright lights and a sophistication that the two 19th century men had never seen before. The cave opened up into a cavern that held not only a laboratory, a bank of machines that clicked-and-whirred, but items that men only dreamed of including a black massive and powerful looking horseless carriage.

“Are you looking for him, Mr. Holmes?” came a booming voice, instilling fear and filled with confidence.

Surprised, both men turned to see a man dressed all in black, with a cape and cowling. Behind was the unconscious body of the ‘Scarecrow’ they’d been chasing, being unceremoniously dragged by one leg.

“Gentlemen,” he said in a gravelly whisper, “I’m the Batman. Welcome to my not so-secret anymore Bat Cave.”

“Thank you, Mr. Batman,” Holmes replied. “Put the Bulldog away, Dr. Watson. He’s more friend than foe despite his appearence”

“Doctor, eh?” Batman asked. “Meet Dr. Jonathan Crane.” The Batman rolled the limp body before his two uninvited guests.

“How is it you know this ‘Scarecrow’ fellow?’” Watson wanted to know.

“After he received his brain from the Almighty Oz “the Batman replied, “The ‘Scarecrow’ realized he could live the life of comfort by stealing the one item everyone in Wonderland held dear – a pair of red ruby slippers.”

“Wonderland? Ruby slippers?” Holmes questioned in quiet susurration.

“Yes,” the Batman said, “And once he had them, he began his one man crime spree, spreading terror by altering reality within whatever reality he happened to be in at the time. And thus, gentlemen, here we stand.”

Off in the distance came the gentle groan of an electric motor. Soon, Alfred stepped from the service lift, “Ahem, Master Bruce, now that I see that you’ve all met, tea is served.”

“Thank you, Alfred. Please join me,” he commanded the other two men more than asked. The fine bone china quietly chattered as Alfred placed the serving set on a nearby counter.

Slowly, Sherlock batted his eyes as he awakened from what he assumed was a drug induced coma. John, his medical doctor and colleague, stood slightly bent over him, with a look of great concern, “You gave me quite the start old man. Best you lay off the cocaine, or was it the heroin this time?”

“How did I end up with so much stuff?” That question is usually followed up with: “…and I don’t use any of it.”

Harder still is the idea of getting rid of anything, fearful it may be needed at a later time. More stuff also means more maintenance.

Then there’s the fact that none of it produces happiness and we can all use more ‘happy’ in our lives. Best to count your blessings, than wishing for more, and a cluttered life.

In the end, it’s not the person who has too little that’s poor, but the one wanting it all.

Over the last few weeks, I’ve suffered the loss of many friends. When I say ‘suffered,’ I’m saying they’ve passed away, leaving the rest of us to carry on.

It’s a fact that none of us are going to get off this rock alive, which means our earthly bodies will eventually fail, leaving our soul and spirit with out a vessel in which to contain our life-force. In many ways that’s what scares us – or perhaps only me – that process of ‘transference,’ from one plane to the next.

At moments like these, grieving is our only resource and it’s okay.

My husband got out of bed and shuffled into the bathroom, when…FLASH. As I started to get up to check on him, he crawled back under the covers, where I snuggled up next to his chilled body.

“What was that bright light?” No answer.

Instead he excitedly climbed on me and spreading my legs, I let him in. We hadn’t been passionate in a while, so I enjoyed the sensation as I climaxed.

Finished, he rolled off me and headed towards the kitchen. Annoyed, I got up to go pee, where I surprised my husband, still sitting on the toilet.

“He is twice warmed who cuts his own wood,” goes the old saw.

Our foods seem to taste better when we’ve done the preparation, our home more enjoyable when we’ve clean it ourselves, and our yard brighter once we’ve finished pulling weeds and raking the grass. That’s because it’s satisfying to do things for yourself when you are able.

Self-reliance is boost to the ego, no matter how little or how much you have. It reminds you that you’re capable and useful.

Your rule-of-thumb should be “Each day I’ll leave my bed with determination to return to it with satisfaction.”

Everyone feels a sense of hopelessness from time to time. It’s natural.

But no one should ever lose all hope. Without hope, failure becomes our only option.

And remaining in a hopeless state of being becomes our downfall. Instead of action, we’ll wait for what we believed to be inevitable outcome and then the only thing we’ll know is that we didn’t try.

And because you didn’t act, you’ll never change your situation, good or bad, and that too, is a miserable feeling. A vicious cycle.

Remember, hope costs nothing, but a lack of all hope will cost you everything.

Jesus was walking through the woods one morning, shortly after returning from Heaven. He needed to take a shit, but couldn’t find a place.

Finally, unable to hold it any more, he grabbed a few leaves and squatted behind a fallen log. Much to his surprise, he discovered the Easter Bunny doing the same thing.

The bunny finished first and started on his way when Jesus asked him, “Do you mind if your fur gets dirty?”

“Not really,” the rabbit answered.

“Great,” Jesus replied as he grabbed the bunny by the ears and proceeded to wipe his ass with him.

“Welcome to Jerusalem this evening. Earlier today, we caught up with the spokesperson of a man executed 24-hours ago by the local authorities. He claims his client was innocent. But what about his political activities?”

“There are none, his only interest people.”

“So why execute him?”

“He threatens to upset their system.”

“But I thought you said he wasn’t political.”

“He isn’t. He’s about love and how we ought to treat one another.”

“That make no sense.”

“I know, right?”

You keep talking about this man in the present tense.”

“Yes, I do.”

“I’m not understanding.”

“You will come Monday.”