The Skeeter Daddle Diaries

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My shack has ghosts. Poltergeists. Gremlins. Whatever you care to call the little demons that are turning my lights off intermittently, then turning them back on. I don’t really believe in phantasms, but I know my lights are flickering off, then going off completely, then later suddenly snapping back to life. It’s disconcerting, I do know that.

I pulled the breakers outside, replaced them and for awhile, they seemed to work. But only for a day or so. Now the lights are turning themselves on and off again. It’s driving me batty. Yesterday I tore into the walls, jerking out switches and outlets, looking for a loose wire, a faulty switch, a connector come undone. So far nothing…. Now more lights are turning themselves off, turning themselves on. I was convinced there was a logical explanation, but more and more I’m starting to wonder.

I wake up every day to strange stories in the news. Sexual harassment, Russian probes, Senatorial races with a bigot and child predator, lies and faux news, it never ends, just drives me crazy. The nation seems stuck in a reality meltdown where paranoia reigns and obvious lies are uttered without embarrassment. I need meds. Lithium, valium, anti-psychotics, whatever it takes to reduce the brain-fever. The truth is flickering on and off. The news is driving me insane. Faux news, real news, on and off, on and off, day after day.

Today the lights in the house went off. I checked the fuse box and nothing was amiss. No breakers were OFF, but the power was. To half the room I’m in right now. Half on, half off. I’m sure it has a logical explanation. I’m sure an electrician could explain this phenomenon in a nano-second. The truth is out there somewhere. But somewhere isn’t here.

I shut off the power entirely to the shack finally. I turn it on when I’m down there working, but I’m afraid to keep it on when I leave the building, something might spark and the place will go up in flames. I should probably do that with the news, just turn it off, but I’m afraid the country will go up in smoke if I don’t pay attention. Am I crazy? Are we all going crazy? Maybe I need to turn off all the lights once and for all. Before they turn themselves off. Except that seems illogical. Doesn’t it??????????

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Pastor Paul was visibly troubled at the monthly deacon meeting of the Little Church of the Ravine this past week. “That slaughter in God’s house down in Texas could happen here,” he was saying to the assembled deacons after his introductory prayer for the 26 deceased churchgoers in the town of 400. “We need to make sure it doesn’t.”

Tony Travers held his well-worn King James leatherbound Bible tightly in his lap and seemed to be swaying slightly. “I hear you, Paul,” he was saying quietly, almost inaudibly. “But the Lord’s will be done.”

“C’mon, now Tony, let’s not turn this into a crisis of faith,” Brandon Fallows said. “The Lord helps those who help themselves. What we need here is some security.” Pastor Paul nodded sagely. “I agree,” he intoned. “Security. What do you have in mind, Brandon?”

Brandon obviously had given this considerable thought because he spoke right up. “Someone stationed at the church door,” he replied. “Someone who can act if the occasion arises.”

Phil Crenshaw shook his head no. “I know where you’re going with this, Brandon, but guns aren’t the solution, they’re the problem. You can’t put an armed guard at the chapel entrance.”

“Can’t we?” Brandon retorted. “That maniac in Texas would’ve killed every person in the church that morning if a neighbor hadn’t gotten there with his own rifle. He saved countless lives, you better believe that.”

Phil shook his head. “Violence begets violence. Vengeance is ….”

“Oh stop the horseshit, Phil,” Brandon said, cutting him off, then caught the disapproval on Pastor Paul’s face. “Sorry, Pastor.”

The deacon meeting never came to a conclusion. Brandon offered to serve as armed guard, but the others were unsure of the rightness of that course and less sure what the congregation might think of one of the deacons packing heat before services. “Let’s pray on this awhile longer,” Tony suggested and the majority seemed to relax visibly. All except Brandon who left muttering about defending himself and his family. No doubt next Sunday he would probably come loaded for bear.

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Just in time for the holidays, the notoriously festive South End String Band will be playing a joyous concert at the Cama Beach State Park Lodge on Dec. 16th, 2017 from 6-8 pm. Holiday spirits will be served! (How else can the Band’s irreverent music be appreciated?)
Fresh on the heels of their untimely ouster from the Lights of Christmas for refusing to play Christmas songs, opting instead for their brand of gnarly old time fiddle tunes and contemporary politically incorrect salutes to South End Culture, the infamous collection of musicians have agreed to bring some lively jive and jingle to Cama’s WINTERFEST gala salute to Camano Island.

Good chance they will not be invited back so put on your Santa cap, pony up the reindeer and head on down to Camano’s best kept secret, the Cama Beach State Park Lodge.

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It’s a cold day here in the North Pole. Santa Claus has been charged with felony harassment by multiple unnamed elves who claim in separate testimony the funny fat man had groped them in the toy factory’s main office after hours. St. Nick denied all accusations and claimed it was faux news, a smear campaign by those who want to wage war on Christmas. Mrs. Claus, unavailable for public comment, has reportedly filed divorce papers. And in a related development, Donder and Blitzen, two of the delivery sleigh’s mainstay reindeer, avow they will not ride for the accused Santa.

The scandal has even reached the U.S. Congress where legislative leaders are in a bind whether to support the Gift Giver or call for investigations. Rep. Jerry Snyder told a CNN reporter that the nation will be plunged into certain recession if Christmas were to be canceled because Santa Claus was asked to resign his position. “Elf groping in itself may not be a crime,” he stated. “Elves aren’t protected under law and anyway, these charges date back decades. I say let the American People decide whether the man can use their chimney or not. Christmas presents delivered by Santa Claus are a tradition that must be protected at all costs. My kids wouldn’t talk to me ever again if I voted to investigate St. Nick.”

But Sen. Betsy Feelingbetter responded by saying “Enough is enough. Elf or leprechaun or Queen of the Maypole, it’s time to put a stop to employer harassment. These men think because they have all this power they can treat us with complete disrespect. We’re looking into criminal charges for Mr. St. Nick, I can tell you that. The times have changed and if the price for ending predatory harassment is a cessation of Christmas presents this year, so be it. We’re not negotiating this crime, you merry gentlemen.”

At the time of this writing the future of Christmas Present and Future looked bleak indeed. The elf workshop is in complete shutdown and the factory is surrounded by reporters from every known media from every country that celebrates a consumer Christmas. UPS and FedEx stocks have tumbled to their lowest share price since the Great Recession and Turner Broadcasting has pulled “It’s a Wonderful Life” and “Miracle on 34th Street.” The world may have hung their stockings with care, but will they be empty on Christmas Day?

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Here’s some breaking news for all you addicts out there. Facebook was designed, so say some of its founders, to dig deep into your brain and reward you with instant and constant gratification. Likes, dislikes, tweets and pinging. They want you to keep in touch, they say, with your ‘friends’ and relatives. Ho ho. Just trying to help you.

Can you say Ennabler? Can you say Pusher? They do want you to stay in touch, all right. They want you to chain yourself to your phone, your computer, your device and let the ads wash over you like a soothing shower. Just like the tobacco boyz, they’ve studied you and they’ve designed a delivery system you won’t be able to resist after a very short time. The cigarette pushers took some tobacco leaves, chopped them fine, then added everything from formaldehyde to the pancreas of endangered species, put them with 100 chemicals known to the state of California as carcinogenic, made a slurry, then dried the toxins into a compact little roll that resembles real tobacco. They made these neat little filters they perforated so that you had to pull very hard to get your dose and called those Menthol Lights, less tar, more flavor, that kind of ad rubbish.

Facebook, they took some behavioral research from B.F. Skinner’s monkey experiments and Pavlov’s dogs and applied them to you. We always knew social media was addictive, I guess, we just didn’t know the folks upstairs had manipulated us. Just like tobacco. Just like McDonalds. Just like Coca-Cola even after they took out the cocaine. When sugar was under investigation, the sugar daddies blamed heart attacks on fat. Facebook, we’ll have to wait and see who they blame. I’m betting the Russians. Parents who don’t do proper supervision. Video games. But the truth is a lot more sinister than those pesky Ruskies. I’m afraid I have to unfriend Mark Zuckerberg and his fellow gangsters. Your social media is a social destabilizer. Big thumbs down, Mark. But I hafta admit, you won. We lost.

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