GERMAPHOBES
AND
CLEAN FREAKS
A Silly Free Form Verse of Objections, Eh?
By Izzy Ess of Messiness
I do object to the bold
stifling of a clean freak person who takes one quick look at my abstract
colourful and really cool oil paintings or creations and who wants to take a
damp cloth, or a broom, and just remove their oft perceived idea that my
painting doesn’t meet their standards of real neatness, cleanliness, a
germaphobic genocidal purity and photo-perfect quite surreal reality. I’m sure they’d do the same to old Picasso,
Pollack or Monet, because the painting isn’t photographically perfect. I’m sure that they would really bristle if
they knew that I am wont to paint my inspirations in the nude, or that I would
have at least as much paint on my body than appeared on canvases I made.
I made a chess board for myself
by using coffee to accentuate the brown squares while not discolouring the
other lighter squares. A “perfect
person,” by her own admission, took a moist cloth from her sink of dishes and
removed the coffee stains and said, “That is much better, don’t you
think?” Her confidence was evident as
she did boast to her own husband, in my presence, that she’d made my efforts
closer to perfection. She felt that my
opinion wasn’t part of her obsession with perfectionism. I’m inhibited these days to show my paintings,
just to anyone. A relative of mine was
horrified to see me splash some water on what was to him an accurate depiction
of some blue and purple mountains that were mainly covered by some snow. Loudly, he did say it was so perfect just
before I splashed the water droplets on the poster card that I had used to
paint with simple water colours. The
puddles made the clouds appear and spirits of the mountains did arise.
In terms of writing ‘bout my
fantasies of poetry and prose, a right-brained perfect person judges me with
spelling, grammar and my newly made up words.
In high school, a fastidious old female teacher marked me down to 62,
the lowest mark that I had ever had. She
circled in bold red a word she said does not exist, “befit.” She listened not to my objection that I’d
read the word in some book from the library, whose title did escape me. Lately, I was privileged to read a Webster’s
College dictionary that she might have used to mark the papers. Indeed, “befit” was not in there, nor was
there “aardvark, zarf or zurf.” The year of publication of the heavy tome was
1942, a full four years since I was born.
So, dear teacher, in your Heaven, perfect as you are, you were misled by
your authoritative dictionary, eh? To
this day, I do remember had she could be adamantly sure of her evaluation of my
fantasy about some creature that had lived some time ago. Now that I am five and seventy, I do forgive
her, her left braininess and do equate the terrible experience for me as one of
learning how to be completely silent ‘bout the abstract, random thoughts that
fly around my brain. They must be quite
disturbing to a lot of people, all including all my kith and kin who treat my
written words as if they were from leprosy derived. My own controlling next of kin doth refuse to
open up my blogs for fear it will infect them, somehow, eh? I think he deems it dangerous to be exposed
to thoughts and feelings that are different than his own and his, and my own,
kith and kin. Lately, even my own
children do refuse to open up my simple emails, recently, some birthday
greetings. This leprosy I have to have,
must be contagious or so dangerous.
In Deuteronomy, it says if
someone says a different dogma is the truth, ye shall not listen. If that someone doth persist, the text
requires that the other dogma holder must be killed; and rabbis and the priests
will shelter this “brave, righteous person,” and defend him quite successfully
from murder charges in the courts of law!
Sic! Amen and hallelujah, you
perfectionists! United worldwide are the
dogmatists of every culture. They will
enter genocidal actions in the name of their own God. Are you afraid that your own dogma is at
risk? Of course, you are! St. Paul in many newer testaments repeats
this heavy, strong and angry bold recommendation that the dogmatic other person
must be killed, if he persists attempting to persuade you of the thrills of his
own dogma. Jesus recommended love, not
hate or envy, but he too was adamant about the righteous way to live and think
and feel. Disciples lauded Jesus as he
sacrificed himself for all mankind, as schizophrenic as there was a
self-destructive action. Disciples
spread “Glad Tidings” that their hero sacrificed his life to clear the populace
of all their sins by living righteously and in step with His own perfection. Of course, he got the money lending infidels
out on the streets, of that we all are happy.
Churches should be free of money deals to get one into Heaven.
Martin Luther was duly
ostracized and ex-communicated. Later he
was deeply saddened by his protestations and requested he be taken back, to no
avail. The perfect Catholics were not
about to re-admit a rebel with a reasoned mind whose dogmata were different
than their own, and by definition quite imperfect, eh? The protestations led to genocide and
madness. One cannot hold two dogmata
together; that will burst the bubbles of the leaders who can’t lead without
imposing rules and regulations that are not God-given or prescribed by inside
righteous hard perfectionists. God save
us all from being killed by leaders of religions which are willing to destroy
us all for holding thoughts that are not perfect, in their eyes. Killing “in the name of God” has been a
feature of the histories, both oral and those carved in stone, since History
began. Left-brained perfectionists have
been around forever and they will persist in stifling creativity and “false
ideas!”
Aboriginals who care for
natural events with reverence and protection are circular in thinking patterns
and quite spiritual in their actions.
They take care to take good care of trees and mountains, rivers and
clean water. Their killing is just aimed
at food or clothing and are not done willy-nilly like perfectionists are wont
to do. The Christian Europeans are
destroying all our landscapes and the sources of our oxygen and water, fresh
air and underground grand oil and gas, coal and those shiny minerals and those
sparkling quartzes, which do govern money bases for the power of the leaders
who do grab them for themselves.
The Eurasian Muslims are
destroying caves and natural phenomena and taking sides with quite destructive
Westerners and Easterners, while accepting arms from both the east and west who
have a vested interest in all that oil and gas and are hoping for the genocides
that will reduce their numbers and their dangers. Energy for armaments is quite expensive and
do help the leaders in their genocidal tendencies to rid themselves of those
that would oppose them.
I have indeed considered that
my anger at perfectionists is dogmatic.
Mea culpa! Perhaps, I am at odds
with those that do not like my creativity, intelligence and frank
audacity. Perhaps this is an older
battle twixt the right-brainers and the left-brainers. Perhaps I need to live amongst the noble
aboriginals whom I admire. Perhaps, I
label them as noble as I would have my kith and kin just try a little harder to
see me as a human being and not with disabilities that make me somewhat
leprous. Perhaps my thinking is
distorted by my so called “illness,” which allows them to just shut me out of
my own family for being bold and happy with myself. Or perhaps, just like my doctors who
predicted my demise a while ago, they are disappointed that I haven’t died and
gotten out of sight. Or perhaps, they
are a little envious that I am free at last to say the things I love to say my
piece with equanimity and not be struck by lightning, just as both my wives
expected.
My first wife, very attractive,
bright and talented, was “forced” to say, that she couldn’t live with me
another minute, but she did admit that there never was a dull moment in our
marriage. She also did admit her whole
agenda by her statement, “Finally, you’re rich enough for me to start divorce
proceedings.” This agenda was
successfully suppressed for 18 years.
Her timing must have been perfection in itself, for her, and people like
her, who do not really love another person without conditions or
reservations. I believe that Love is
pure and unconditional. How outrageous
that must sound to a perfectionist who knows about just everything and doesn’t
hesitate to tell you you’re a fool for doing, thinking and just feeling,
otherwise.
Perhaps, the writing of this
essay will relieve a little of the anger that I have directed at my kith and
kin for ostracizing me. All of them are
quite successful and quite rich. And, I
have well learned a Jesus trick: Forgiving all of them has lifted quite a load
off my big shoulders. Now responsibility
for all my kith and kin is not my problem, anymore. I do, however, sorely miss my children who
are distant and quite uncommunicative with me, except for one who seems to
understand me and my personality for the part of him that comes from me, but
not the part that comes from his mother, apparently. I guess a batting average of almost 333 is
quite acceptable…
THE
END
©
izzy sommers, md., retired
Welland,
Canada
September
2, 2013
HAPPY
BIRTHDAY TO ALL MY CHILDREN
MAY
ALL YOUR PROBLEMS BE TINY
MAY
THE ROAD COME UP TO MEET YOUR FEET
MAY
ALL YOUR DREAMS COME TRUE
MAY
THE FLEAS OF AN HUNDRED CAMELS MAKE YOU THINK OF ME STILL LOVING YOU.
LOVE
AND PEACE AND HARMONY
YOUR
EVER LOVING DAD
And
Sue I’ve sent my spirit to you for some happy tea
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