Death and Butterflies

Nobody wants to grow old, right? That’s probably because we know that death comes on the heels of growing old. It’s the natural progression – get old and die. Of course, lots of young people die as well, because this death thing rarely happens on cue; very few of us are prepared, and so it’s always a shock to someone. Still, old age is a sure bet with even odds all the way – you can always count on the same result. At some point, following the process of growing old, we will surely pass away. Done deal. We expect it.

My mother is less than one month from her 100th birthday. She’s been living with the intimate knowledge that something awful is imminent. She’s felt overdue for about 2 decades; living with the idea that “today could be the day.” And she’s understandably torn. Part of her wants to get on with it. You know, do what’s expected of her; and part of her is hoping she’s the exception. She hates all the trappings that come with her advanced state – bad vision and hearing, aching bones, new and interesting bathroom rituals, dry skin, thinning hair, etc. etc. etc. But she loves being alive too. Unbelievably, there are still episodes of Law and Order she hasn’t seen, racks of new greeting cards to compulsively read, and all kinds of subjects to negatively pontificate about. There are sunsets, and babies to kiss, presents to buy; candy, pretzel rods, and new pastries to sample. Life can be a real drag, but there’s a lot of perks that come with it.

I’m old too. I’ll be 70 on my next birthday, and all I can think of to say about it is “what the hell?! When did that happen?” Why just yesterday I was playing softball, and hiking, and rough-housing with the kids. Geez. My son is in his forties, I can barely walk a quarter mile, and if I tried to throw a softball these days, my arm would go with it. What happened to me – overnight, no less? Good Lord, since I’m old, death is probably lurking in the shadows – the SOB.

But I figure this has been a life long journey – literally. I’ve been working toward this since I was born. That’s an obvious thing to say, but apparently it’s also been an unrecognized goal of mine; of every last one of us actually. And even though we had no idea, we’ve all been dutifully trudging down life’s rotten little crooked path toward the same exact end. This little fact of life should have occurred to us long ago, but it didn’t. Life is a death march! Maybe it would have been better to burn out young rather than to try to protect myself from all of this. That’s certainly one way to go – live life in the fastest lane possible, and pay no attention to the mountain-sized road blocks up ahead.

That’s not what I did, so here I still am. And while I really don’t have any regrets, the very fact that I’ve fashioned my own unique bucket list at all indicates there were things I realize I should have done. Not dangerous things like playing Russian Roulette, or canyon diving, but cool stuff like visiting England or the Greek Isles; learning to paint, owning an XJ6, becoming an expert in something… There’s so much more, not the least of which is to have acquired enough wisdom to deal with this whole death issue truthfully and realistically.

Being a paranormal investigator has definitely given me some fascinating ways to look at death though. It has sharpened my sense of the possibilities and dulled my fear of this greatest of all unknowns. I’m one of those people who believes in an afterlife, even if I haven’t a clue of what it looks or feels like. I believe it exists as surely as I believe I occupy the here and now; and that the continuance of this existence experience is mysterious in its predictability. Life itself is a constant – there’s always some part of it that carries on regardless of any outside influences; it is victorious always. Life finds a way.

I guess what I’m saying is that growing old really isn’t such an awful thing. It’s not a good subject to focus on, but it’s not so much of an end as it is a beginning. One day, without knowing when, or how, or why, I will start over in some unthinkable way. The cycle of life will prove itself eternal just as surely as death will be unable to mark an end of it. We are like caterpillars who have no idea that one day we will all become butterflies. I don’t know what life is like for a butterfly, but I’d bet it doesn’t make any more sense to him than it does to me. Ah well, c’est la vie.

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Paranormal POTUS

The other day I parked myself in front of my favorite cable news channel and witnessed the President (POTUS himself) make four untrue statements in the course of 25 seconds. They were so untrue that I could recognize it even by myself – without help from commentators, pundits, lobbyists, garden gnomes, or anyone else. Outright lies, I suspected, and my suspicions were later backed-up by fact checkers and the keepers of useless statistics and overall truth. Four lies in less than half a minute! It’s really quite remarkable, don’t you think? Astounding, really!

Of course, now that I’ve written this out loud, I expect a barrage of comments about how it all depends on who is actually checking the facts. Well, I don’t really know, but it feels like it should be a couple of those “high-end professionals.” Presidential fact checkers should be serious people – after all, it’s not Gary from down the street who could care less. I mean, it’s not a middle school essay, and the fact checker isn’t Mr. Donovan, who could barely pass English101 at Eastern Stoner College.

It’s like a mathematician. Two and two are four, and outside of some weird quantum physics thing, it always will be. We should be able to count on all fact checkers, regardless of political bias, being able to hold POTUS to the not so subtle art of accuracy. No getting confused there, right? We all agree? Cause if you’re coming down on the side of 2+2=7, that’s not gonna fly.

We make those pesky scientists use stringent methods just so we can catch them if they mess up. We expect all the details to be accurate, and all 12 million ducks to be in a row. And if everything isn’t just right, off with his head, or at the very least, yank his grant out from under his incompetent Keister. “Blasphemer!”

Real estate agents can’t tell you the house is worth $10,000 and then change the price at closing. That’s a lie that will cost them their license in most states – even if it was a typo or if the agent somehow misspoke. Accuracy matters, dad-burn-it, and when you know damn well you’re not being accurate; when it’s on purpose, it’s a lie. If I knew those four statements in 25 seconds were wrong, surely POTUS should have known.

Which brings this a little too close to home, because I am constantly having my potential paranormal evidence scrutinized – fact checked. I’m not supposed to claim something is paranormal unless it truly is paranormal. Go figure! Whatever evidence I provide has to pass someone else’s muster. And when it doesn’t, I can’t just scream “Fake analysis!” and continue trying to pass it off as real. Doesn’t work that way. I wish it did because I know my motivations are pure, as are my heart, mind, and body. Heck, my fact checkers know it too, but they still rule against me quite often. I just have to get it right, that’s all, and so they do me a huge favor. They keep me from making incorrect statements and assumptions in front of the whole world.

Nobody wants to deal with a dishonest paranormal investigator. It’s the kiss of death, no pun intended. You’re an instant outcast. Fake evidence indeed – fake investigator! However, its not as though the whole world is flocking to hear what I have to say, and my naysayers are just dying to catch me in something that’s clearly wrong. Likewise, my “base” doesn’t believe what I say just because I say it. They don’t care who my fact checkers are, but they expect me to have them and use them. They expect me to be honest and the minute I’m not… er… the 25 seconds I’m not, it’s over baby. No excuses, no mitigating circumstances, no margin of error, no nothing – it’s either the truth or it isn’t, or it’s “bye bye” paranormal career.

I don’t mind so much when politicians get things wrong, or choose a favorable poll from which to make claims. I don’t even mind a lie or two – especially concerning their personal lives. No one needs to know that Senator Blitzkrieg enjoys a meal of Alpo once in awhile, or that President Schmock once kissed his cousin Roy on a dare. But would I be wrong if I suggested there’s been an awful lot of prime bullshit hitting fans all across the country? Am I wrong to suggest that four lies in twenty-five seconds is kinda pushing the envelope in a way that renders it totally useless? But, if you think that’s all good; if you’re not worried at all about such things, make sure you pick up my new book entitled ‘My Conversations with All 47 Founding Fathers And Jesus’. On sale now for $10,000 on Amazon. It’s steep, but it’s true. I wouldn’t lie. Trust me!

Vacation

So here I am back from vacation once again. It was a good time, but given my penchant for complaining, there are things that could have gone better. I had a few issues, but they’re all minor, petty stuff and thankfully I’m smart enough to keep them to myself.

However, I have paranormal evidence to look at. Less than a week before we left for the beach, we had an investigation that required the use of ten cameras, and that means a lot of video to review. And on top of that, I still have evidence to go over from the week before. Naturally, the two weeks prior to vacation were understandably hectic, and would have been trying enough without having footage to watch. Still, I managed to get through six cameras worth of typical paranormal video from the oldest investigation – boring, static, continuous views of the same image, and then it’s on to the next one.

And I’ll get it all done – I always do, but it’s very much like a job, this paranormal stuff; it’s many other things as well, but it truly feels like a profession of sorts. Like a career, it kind of mentally calls to me during vacation, which I suppose is to remind me that all play and no work is a bad thing.

So, I left that wonderful place (handful of complaints in tow) and headed home with a somewhat heavy heart that there would be a ton of things to do just waiting for my appearance in the driveway – beckoning, as if to say, “It’s about time, dude.” Of course, There was an investigation on Sunday, which was 24 hours after we stumbled home – more footage to view and an ever growing backlog.

People don’t always understand what the big deal would be to just let it go for a day or two. I must obviously be completely obsessed, or at the very least, in need of a priorities check. Certainly I must have the time to do what others need me to do “now.” (They come at me simultaneously – I know it’s some kind of conspiracy.) Certainly I could miss a day of “that evidence stuff.” But a day turns into two, and pretty soon it’s doctor appointments for my mother, and watching a grandchild, and one has to clean the house and cook the roast beast. You know the drill.

Likewise, it probably seems like an hour of video ought to take no more than an hour to watch. And it’s unfortunate, but on average it take two to three times longer because every suspicious change in the video boredom requires inspection to determine whether it actually is a paranormal event. Fortunately, once in a blue moon it is. Since the cameras also record sound, the same rigor is required for audio possibilities. EVP are frequently found on video camera footage. So, a lot of the time, paranormal analysis just doesn’t get the respect it deserves. Like we’re only supposed to be looking for full-bodied apparitions and not wasting time pouring over every frame for other less sexy things.

But let’s return to the subject of vacations. I brought a lot of that footage with me on vacation along with the good intentions of quietly relaxing and viewing as large a chunk as possible. Imagine sitting on the veranda in the evening – a nice ocean breeze quietly cooling the heat of the day, and I, feet propped up and drink by my side, am watching for unexplained activity on a small glowing screen. Or, alone at the end of the day as the family sleeps; under a wide umbrella with the ocean by my side; another drink close by… Sometimes, fantasies really should come true, but alas, I’ve had nary a glimpse at that footage.

Well, there wasn’t any time! These people I live with wouldn’t leave me alone. They were always telling me to get ready for something, or “let’s do this now,” or deciding on restaurants… It’s such an insane thing to actually attempt having fun and being active on vacation, and yet, I surprisingly recommend it strongly – for all investigators. Leave that paranormal albatross at home while participating in the vacation rituals – it just makes sense, and you won’t regret it. It’s good for the soul, you know – your soul. Don’t worry about anyone else’s until you’re home. And have a happy summer, dammit – what’s left of it.

360 Degrees

Ever find yourself viewing investigation footage and wondering just what the heck was going on behind the camera? I have, and once in awhile it drives me bananas. Even though my lens might pick up a 180 degree field of view, in many cases that’s only part of the space.

One such investigation included a fascinating purple and black mist which only appeared on video. It moved around the room, reacted to still camera flashes, changed color, varied in size, and then disappeared somewhere behind the camera. I thought I was doing the right thing by placing my device about a foot in front of the door and adjacent closet. So where did the mist go? Could it have disappeared into the closet or out the door? Your guess is as good as mine. It might have formed into a red-eyed devil, standing out of camera range giving us all a bunch of invisible demonic obscene gestures. Well, probably not, but if it did, I missed it.

I want to see everything in the room – all four corners, the floor, the ceiling… I want to see it all, dammit! But I can’t afford enough cameras to double up in every room or active area. It’s just not fair, is it? (Slight pause for righteous indignation.) But there is a solution. A 360 degree camera sees everything. You can put that bad boy in the middle of the room and nothing escapes it. If it was gonna show up on video; if it wanted to be seen, a 360 will happily oblige.

We’ve all seen the results of a 360. They’re used for virtual reality films. On computer or tablet, you can place your cursor in the middle of the screen and move throughout the frame taking in all areas and angles. When viewing 360 results in editing software, you find a panoramic-shaped video that reveals every last inch of the area in question. You don’t need a VR headset or cursor – it’s all right there in front of you. If Mr. Mist wants to run into the closet, you’ve got him. If he flies through the kitchen wall into the bedroom, you might also capture him from the bedroom cam, but either way, you’ve got the shot. That’s pretty cool beans, if you ask me.

Unfortunately, extremely high quality full spectrum 360 cams are fairly expensive, and you still have the problem of providing an infrared or full spectrum light source – possibly more than one depending on the size of the room. We’re paranormal investigators, not hedge fund managers, so investing in extremely expensive 360’s might deplete little Bobbie’s college fund. But there’s a solution to this as well. Turn on some light! By now you should know investigating does not require complete darkness. Lots of paranormal shenanigans occur in broad daylight, and a low light level has never stopped a spirit from talking or appearing.

There are several brands of 360 cameras available for $150 or less. Now, you gotta be careful because we’re not talking about baby cams or the dashboard variety – we’re talking about good quality cameras with a high enough resolution to do the job properly. I can’t resist offering a couple of names – fly360 and Samsung each have a small variety of models that record excellent video in low light. There are others. A little experimenting with light placement might be in order, but even so, the right video editing software will allow you to further lighten the room after the fact. You should be viewing your evidence with “real” software anyway, and the costs are not great for an adequate product. After all, you’re not making the great American film, you’re reviewing evidence.

“So great! How much stuff have you captured so far?” Well… Good paranormal video evidence is not an every day occurrence, but I’ve had surprising results on every camera I’ve ever used and in all kinds of lighting situations. My confidence level is high. So high, I’ve invested in three 360 cameras, just in case there’s a situation where visible light is in order. Until now, I’ve only actually used two at the same time during an investigation, but keep in mind, any deployment of a 360 cam will not remove the need for other methods. I still use an array of wide angle full spectrum cams, as well as trail cameras, thermal attachments, still cameras, and monoculars that record. But adding 360 degree capability to the arsenal of any investigation seems like a no-brainer to me. Plus, it improves your opportunity to be creative and thorough. I recommend it.

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“There Is No Silence” by Randall Keller. On Amazon. http://t.co/lKo9kyuHOF

Is Bigger Better?

During one of those three story investigations, I discovered myself huffing and puffing, grabbing my chest, blowing my nose, and desperately searching for a place to collapse and locate my little bottle of nitro. I was running the cables from home base to many positioned IR cameras – up and down three flights no less than 22 times (you may remember, I’m a counter), and I still had to check the DVR to set the camera angles. After a few moments of rest, I returned to normal, but lamenting the prospect of repeating the process when the investigation was finished. Ugh. There had to be a better way.

My DVR had been acting bananas for a couple of months; I owned a mile of cable; unpacking the car at 3:00 am took til 4:00 am… never let it be said I am not dedicated. And I knew all of it might actually, literally kill me. Seriously! That’s how bad it was; that’s how bad I felt.

But finally, after that three story job I mentioned, late the following morning, I noticed my GoPro’s come hither look from the side pocket of one of those equipment bags. A cartoon light bulb turned on over my head. If I could replace all my cameras with GoPro-style equipment, I was certain that every uncomfortable, unhealthy moment could be avoided. Plus, the results would logically improve through clearer footage, and cleaner processes. Even my stressed-out heart gave a sigh of relief at the possibilities. There would be problems, of course – extended battery life, portable lighting for full spectrum cameras, tiny tripods; a whole slew of minor stuff. I knew that if this grand experiment was going to work, all of these hurdles had to be cleanly jumped.

Bigger is not always better, and I made it a personal quest to prove just that. So what happened? Not only did my pre-investigation setup become easier, I could bring everything in and out of the location with one simple trip. Gone were the days of potential heart attacks and collapsed lungs; of several metal suitcases; of heavy stuff that required other heavy stuff to function. My knees were actually praising God out loud. The throbbing in my temples had disappeared, and there was more time available for actual investigating. Sounds like a win/win, right?

Of course, different ideas are always a work in progress, but the end results have been noticeable. Video quality is better, the lenses are wide angle and therefore more area is included in the shots. Analysis can be done on an iPad whenever I want; wherever I am. Almost every aspect of my participation in the investigation has drastically improved. I’m already spoiled because I am taking so much of it for granted. I might even go so far as to suggest that smaller is better.

I’ve since incorporated a second GoPro, 3 good quality full spectrum GoPro knockoffs, a 360fly cam, 2 Samsung 360 cams (or 180), a Trail Cam, a Seek thermal attachment, a FLIR attachment, a Bushnell night vision monocular that records, and a ridiculous amount of support stuff including portable IR lighting and various ways of mounting the small cameras practically anywhere. Is bigger better? I think not.

I’ve got a lot of micro SDs to keep track of, but I can literally walk out the door with all my evidence in my front left pocket. Please keep in mind that none of this is a criticism of the old ways. Those ways have just stopped working for me personally. So for me, bigger is definitely not better. But what’s the point in telling you all of this? Beside the notion that I’m entitled to my opinion, it occurs to me our field is actually going in this direction anyway. The kind of equipment we use in this field is getting better and better, as well as smaller and smaller. Good quality equipment is actually getting more affordable, and new capabilities are becoming more easily available. But then, to be honest, it’s unfair and wrong to suggest that this is the only way to go. However, for those of you who are beginning to feel that infernal full-body burn during and after every investigation, I think it’s worth consideration.

[Over the next few months, from time to time, I’ll focus in on a specific area of this “small” experiment.]

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“There Is No Silence” by Randall Keller. On Amazon. http://t.co/lKo9kyuHOF

Conscience

This will not be a rant against Trump, although I am no supporter. I do hope he succeeds in helping the country, but I see no evidence of that. Besides, others are more eloquent than I on such matters. Likewise, I won’t bash Congressional Republicans or party leaders, or conservatives, or alt-righters, or conspiracy theorists, or fascists, Nazis, NRA supporters, or racists, male supremacists, homophobes, xenophobes, or any other “phobes.” To my friends who will vehemently disagree with me, try to understand that I can no more quiet my thoughts than you can your own. And what I say is no less valid. In this country, that’s the way it is.

But clearly, something is bothering me. This is a paranormal blog for the most part, and I’ve been inactive for some months. What could possibly have awakened me enough to comment? Well, I am restarting the blog. It never went away, you know, it just got ridiculously boring what with the lack of new entries and such. But it’s back, baby. And it will remain a paranormal blog for the most part, but man does not live by ectoplasm alone, so I’m mixing in some personal thoughts along the way. This entry is one of those.

“Okay, dude, but you’re all over the place here. What has you stoked enough to get back to poetic waxing… or whatever?” Glad you asked – man’s inhumanity to man, of course. ”Oh. That again.” I know, it’s a hackneyed subject; been done before, ad nausea; nothing to see here folks, move along. But in the last couple of years, those trampling all over their fellow human’s lives have obviously received Ph.D.’s in the subject – doctors of nastiness; experts in unholiness; assholiness, if you will. Lately, Americans have taken their mental defectiveness to levels heretofore unimaginable in a civilized society. As John Lennon once said – “One thing you can’t hide, is when you’re crippled inside.” I think the secret is out.

“Okay, but what is specifically chapping your thighs? Get on with it!” It started when this government, we the people, this proud nation began separating children from parents at the southern border. People fell prey to an American juggernaut and found themselves in cages waiting to be deported while their children were being placed in foster homes or worse – no doubt one day to face their own deportation. And this is what is bothering me. Not big enough of a deal for you? Got kids?

I don’t really care whether they are unqualified to receive asylum. Fine, say no and send them packing. I don’t care if they’re brown people and you don’t like brown people, you can’t steal their children. Those days are long gone, Massah. In fact, there are very few situations that allows anyone that right. Besides, they’re not US citizens – you can’t do that to “others” just because you want to. Or, maybe you can.

Aren’t you ashamed of yourselves? I am. Aren’t you amazed at how morally bankrupt you have proven us all to truly be? Doesn’t it occur to you that there will be history books which will devote entire chapters to this in very unflattering terms? Is this what Jesus would do? Or any god anywhere? And please don’t suggest you have to be strong with “these people,” because these actions are indicative of an immense weakness of character – not strength. And please don’t tell me you’re protecting the rule of law, because we all know how you really feel about that. In fact, don’t say a word. Nothing you could say will ever serve to justify this abhorrent behavior, and somewhere, way deep inside of your cold heart, you know it. What’s next, by the way? Death? Gas chambers? Can an immoral action lay claim to a moral end? I’d love to hear of a single example. Or maybe our definitions of morality are vastly different.

Let’s face it, folks. We’re not the people we thought we were. We’re certainly not who we say we are or claim to be. This is who we have become. This is who we are now. This is a choice.

To paraphrase, Jesus said, “how you treat the least of these is how you treat me.” I won’t explain that. If you don’t get it, then the shoe fits and ya gotta wear it. But it actually doesn’t matter because if our country exercises such brutal injustice, so do all of its citizenry. We stand together and we fall together. We are all, therefore, “good Germans.” We are responsible. Say that out loud until it sinks in. We are all party and complicit in this grotesque display of inhuman behavior. We are responsible for removing innocent children from innocent families to… what? Make a point? That kind of makes us monsters and we seem to be okay with it.

And some of you will strongly disagree and show just how deeply in denial you have fallen. And others will cry and moan and wring your hands. “What are we to do?” Sniff sniff. And still others will refuse to accept their personal culpability, but in a democracy, that’s how it goes. Shouldn’t we try at least to do something about this? Shouldn’t we do something? “What you do to the least of these you do to me.” Shouldn’t we ask for forgiveness at least – shouldn’t we just stop this? Like NOW? Stop obfuscating, stop lying, stop concealing – stop doing this. The damage already done to America will echo back at us over and over for decades, and we’ll figure out how to deal with it. But how do we deal with the damage caused to one innocent child? Damage directly caused by us. How many damaged children will it take before we all agree? Because that day will come. We won’t just agree, we’ll know.

[ Next entry will focus on the paranormal. ]

Ever Since…

Ever since my stroke (yes, it was a real, bonafide stroke), I’ve developed a slight, but highly annoying inability to write. The resulting brain damage occurred exclusively in the speech area of the brain, so finding the right word is sometimes a challenge, but I cover it well, and no one notices. Still, putting pen on paper (even metaphorically) is also a problem, and this has only served to lengthen my streak of zero current blog entries. Likewise, too much confusion around me seems to create a sensory overload of some kind and usually results in a quick exit from the building.

Ever since my mother broke her hip, I’ve been visiting her in the rehab facility every day. Watching so many elderly people struggle to regain control of their own bodies has given me a strong and renewed respect for the “state of age.” For the most part, these folks are doggedly steady in their pursuit of returning to normalcy, and even though I’m not chronologically too far away from them, I know I would have given up long before the Wednesday cold lunch with pickled beets ever arrived on the tray. Old people rock, and if you don’t know that yet, get ready to be impressed.

Ever since my daughter’s softball coach started to mess with her swing, she’s become a very average hitter. Until recently, that is. I always told her not pay any attention to him; do what she’s always done, and continue tearing up opposing pitchers. “If I don’t do what he wants, dad, he’ll bench me. I want to play.” Okay, I understand. However, it’s her senior year, and she’s finally decided to return to the days of yore and ignore his unsuccessful tinkering. After all, what could he do now? She has once again been tearing up opposing pitchers and receiving high praise for it. Praise such as “you’ve finally decided to listen to me” and “that’s what I’ve been telling you all along!” It’s nonsense, of course, but who cares – we know the truth. Go Wolverines!

Ever since I decided to go out of my way to be polite to everyone, I’ve been happier. Not much else to say about that, and sometimes I still revert to my old rude self, but I truly feel better about everything. It has given purpose to all sorts of mundane daily events, and makes me a better driver as well. There’s a very long list of noticeable improvements. I do sometimes miss the act of practicing unsolicited nastiness, and the occasional personal insult can be invigorating and provide it’s own rewards, but for the most part, the dark force doesn’t linger very long and leaves a bad aftertaste. Being polite tends to last longer and sometimes changes my entire day for the better. The force is strong with this one. “Thank you,” he politely answers… with a winsome smile.

Ever since I started eavesdropping to help occupy my time in doctor’s offices, waiting rooms, parking lots, cafeteria lines, elevator queues, and other such venues tailor made for violating personal space, I’ve decided that human beings are stupid. Not all of us, of course – you and I are just fine, but “they” are certifiable idiots. I never used to eavesdrop – I was always able to drown them out with my own thoughts. But I guess I ran out of those and now eavesdropping is my sport of preference. Lately, I’ve heard all about how Irving was caught with the neighbor lady in his car, how Jennifer’s mother claims that watering her plants with urine makes them grow better, that Marge believes her “pastor over some scientist any day,” and that someone down in room 218 of the nursing home has bedded three different widows this month alone. 

And that’s just the tip of the iceberg! Digital cameras have ruined the art of photography; the Japanese have an army of Samurai and ninjas; nylon comes from llama fur (I swear), and finally, that “the human body wasn’t made to be seen naked.” You see? People are stupid. And it seems to take a lifetime to rise above it, or so one can hope. But eventually we all get there, I think, and ever since I arrived at that opinion I find it a little easier to forgive. Myself, of course. The rest of the world is still unworthy, and besides – a whole army of Samurai and ninjas sounds pretty cool.
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Voices From Forever by Randall Keller http://goo.gl/ZBBmj Available on Amazon

There Is No Silence by Randall Keller http://goo.gl/U6KY7 Available on Amazon.