It was a day like any other day, the sixth of July, 2009, except for the untimely deaths of Michael Jackson, my cat Lola, and any sense of ease I might have entered this 9th annual forty-fifth birthday with. Yes, nine years ago I decided that forty-five was a fine age to be, and so forty-five I remain, year after year. Why get older? Nothing good comes of it. AARP constantly harassing you, Social Security keeps sending you these notices concerning how much you'd have gotten if the Government didn't overhaul the entire program the year before you become eligible for it....why worry? I take care of seventy year plus patients every day I work and it's not pretty....being seventy plus, that is. Things start breaking down, your mind wonders off on tangents, and our society devalues you, charges you more for living, and takes every opportunity to rip you off, counting on an outdated sense of honor that this society lost a long time ago. Yep, forty-five suits me just fine, tyvm!

I have this sad fascination with the news, that phenomenon that promises to INFORM us while simply spinning whatever happened according to the political whims of those reporting it. A whole lot of people are sending Michael off in a grand fashion, overwhelmingly devastated by the sudden death of a pop icon, while conservative "good-old-boys" lament the attention that "perverts" get so much of by the media. The press is also milking the Palin melt-down for all it's worth, as if the very survival of the human race impinges on what this ditzy dame does. Riots in China, blatantly rigged "elections" in Iran, the list of human foibles goes on and on and none of it surprises me or amazes me; human kind is capable of incredibly wonderful and stupid things. Then, along comes a meteor, and what does it matter?

The Pope doesn't like pagans. He thinks we "subjugate" ourselves to "occult influences". Boy, is THIS guy ironic! People kiss this guys ring, and good Catholic women find that their proper place is in submission to men in THIS, the only straight ticket to heaven. Does anybody really think there are any major differences between Christianity in all it's insane variations and Islam, in all IT'S insane variations? I consider myself a priest of my path, and you will never catch ME wearing a pointy hat. Yea, I wear a robe, but there's not once ounce of gold woven into it's fabric. Yea, OK, fine, Pope, my religion is not as valid as yours, thus I don't get to join your heavenly club, which, incidentally, I don't even believe exists to join even if I bought the bullshit it took to join it. I don't believe in your devil, and I don't "subjugate" myself to ANY divine entity, for I AM divine, and thus have no need to. No, I do not consider nature to be more important than human life, because human life is merely one thread woven into the fabric of Gaia, thus I do not need to elevate my species above any other. I might be superior in my ability to manipulate my environment, but thanks to the brain that evolution built for me, I do not need to destroy that environment in order to make myself feel better, unlike most of my unenlightened breathren.

Goodbye, Michael. You have departed one fucked-up world, and I think overall you left it better than you found it. Goodbye, Lola; I don't know why you choose US to be your guardians, but I thank you for the trust, and I beg your forgiveness for failing you in the end. And Goodbye, innocence, it was good while it lasted. There's a price to pay for growing up. Sometimes a deadly one.