Tag Archives: Human Interest

Watch The Guild – I really mean it!

Warning – if you are busy with your life and have plenty to do, please don’t read this. You would just waste some of your time, and you would not understand the comedy anyways.


Still here? You have been warned!

[Codex, the main character, talking to her therapist while also logged into an online game…]

“So, so – you are firing me? You’re my therapist! Is that even medically legal? How is that legal?”

“I’m sorry, you don’t seem to be willing to work on your addiction.”

“I’ve been establishing the parameters as we have talked about.”

[zooming into post-it note “online limit: 1 hour, 2 hours, 3 hours, 4 hours, 5 hours“]

“You can’t grow if you are still immersed in an imaginary social environment.”

“It’s not imaginary, I told you -” [gaming action getting more intense…] “- I play with real people!”

“Have you met them, face to face?”

“I hear them, that’s good enough for blind people….”

[dramatic developments in the online game…]

“Dr. Hammand, you are killing me – literally – can I call you back later?”

That’s how it all starts. I can’t really relate because I have to say that I am not really leaning towards addictions (I think) – but what’s really scary is that I showed this to my son as a deterrent – and he thinks it’s funny.

OK, I actually agree…

There are now four seasons at The Guild.

Nine Month

Thanks, Kathie, for this heart-wrenching story…

John decided to go skiing with his buddy, Keith. So they loaded up John’s minivan and headed north.

After driving for a few hours, they got caught in a terrible blizzard. So they pulled into a nearby farm and asked the attractive lady who answered the door if they could spend the night.

“I realize it’s terrible weather out there and I have this huge house all to myself, but I’m recently widowed,” she explained. “I’m afraid the neighbours will talk if I let you stay in my house.”

“Don’t worry,” John said. “We’ll be happy to sleep in the barn. And if the weather breaks, we’ll be gone at first light.” The lady agreed, and the two men found their way to the barn and settled in for the night.

Come morning, the weather had cleared, and they got on their way. They enjoyed a great weekend of skiing.

But about nine months later, John got an unexpected letter from an attorney. It took him a few minutes to figure it out, but he finally determined that it was from the attorney of that attractive widow he had met on the ski weekend.

He dropped in on his friend Keith and asked, “Keith, do you remember that good-looking widow from the farm we stayed at on our ski holiday up north about 9 months ago?”

“Yes, I do.” Said Keith.

“Did you, er, happen to get up in the middle of the night, go up to the house and pay her a visit?”

“Well, um, yes!,” Keith said, a little embarrassed about being found out, “I have to admit that I did.”

“And did you happen to give her my name instead of telling her your name?”

Keith’s face turned beet red and he said, “Yeah, look, I’m sorry, buddy. I’m afraid I did. Why do you ask?”

“She just died and left me everything.”

Breakfast at McDonald’s

I just love stories!

When my son and I ran into a commercial advertising James Cameron’s new movie Sanctum he wondered why it was stressed that this movie was “inspired by true events.”

The only answer I could come up with was that people put more significance or importance on a story if it is ‘true’. But for the movie in question the choice of the phrase ‘inspired by’ could mean as little as “I saw a dog fall into a pond and had the idea to make a movie about cave scuba diving.” Surely, there is a true event – dog falling into pond – and that inspired the making of that movie.

I have learned a long time ago that ‘true’ is a very elastic term. When I had the experience that two people, with no agenda to sway me one way or the other, told me about the same event and I could not recognize the event as one and the same, I learned that ‘Truth’ is a relative term – a fact that detectives and investigators understand.

With this said, the following story had the label ‘true’ but I do not really care – it’s a good story with something to learn from. It came in a viral email with the typical ending, that I had to send it to at least three people to have my wishes come true at some point in time and to 126 people if I want them to come true right away. I leave this part of the email out and concentrate on the story itself.

Here we go…

I am a mother of three (ages 14, 12, 3) and have recently completed my college degree.

The last class I had to take was Sociology.

The teacher was absolutely inspiring with the qualities that I wish every human being had been graced with.

Her last project of the term was called, ‘Smile.’

The class was asked to go out and smile at three people and document their reactions.

I am a very friendly person and always smile at everyone and say hello anyway. So, I thought this would be a piece of cake – literally.

Soon after we were assigned the project, my husband, youngest son, and I went out to McDonald’s one a crisp March morning.

It was just our way of sharing special playtime with our son.

We were standing in line, waiting to be served, when all of a sudden everyone around us began to back away, and then even my husband did.

I did not move an inch – an overwhelming feeling of panic welled up inside of me as I turned to see why they had moved.

As I turned around I smelled a horrible ‘dirty body’ smell, and there, standing behind me, were two poor homeless men.

As I looked down at the short gentleman, close to me, he was ‘smiling.’ His beautiful sky blue eyes were full of God’s Light as he searched for acceptance.

He said, ‘Good day’ as he counted the few coins he had been clutching.

The second man fumbled with his hands as he stood behind his friend. I realized the second man was mentally challenged and the blue-eyed gentleman was his salvation.

I held my tears as I stood there with them.

The young lady at the counter asked him what they wanted.

He said, ‘Coffee is all Miss’ because that was all they could afford. (If they wanted to sit in the restaurant and warm up, they had to buy something. He just wanted to be warm.)

Then I really felt it – the compulsion was so great I almost reached out and embraced the little man with the blue eyes. That is when I noticed all eyes in the Restaurant were set on me, judging my every action.

I smiled and asked the young lady behind the counter to give me two more breakfast meals on a separate tray. I then walked around the corner to the table that the men had chosen as a resting spot. I put the tray on the table and laid my hand on the blue-eyed gentleman’s cold hand. He looked up at me, with tears in his eyes, and said, ‘Thank you.’

I leaned over, began to pat his hand and said, ‘I did not do this for you.. God is here working through me to give you hope.’

I started to cry as I walked away to join my husband and son. When I sat down my husband smiled at me and said, ‘That is why God gave you to me, Honey, to give me hope.’

We held hands for a moment and at that time, we knew that only because of the Grace that we had been given were we able to give.

We are not church goers, but we are believers. That day showed me the pure Light of God’s sweet love.

I returned to college, on the last evening of class, with this story in hand. I turned in ‘my project’ and the instructor read it. Then she looked up at me and said, ‘Can I share this?’ I slowly nodded as she got the attention of the class. She began to read and that is when I knew that we as human beings and being part of God share this need to heal people and to be healed.

In my own way I had touched the people at McDonald’s, my son, the instructor, and every soul that shared the classroom on the last night I spent as a college student.

I graduated with one of the biggest lessons I would ever learn:


Cynicism and Reservation towards Authority

There are now two-thirds in the family that more or less tell me I should not bitch so much about cops, politicians and consorts.

I could not help wonder if I am really that cynical towards authority. Looking at it from the point of view of somebody who is afraid of what authorities can do if you don’t honor and cherish them, I do see that I might appear rather cynical.

The example I have in mind is a remark that I have made probably more than once when I see some cops pulling over an old lady for some little traffic violation: feeling much safer now that those cops handled another hardened criminal and rid the streets of her!

Lately my son pipes in, in instances like this, with the (true) statement that not all cops are bad. Obviously I want him to be critical of authority – what else would you expect from an anarchistic father? – but do I cause the opposite to occur by making authority a victim of  my cynicism?

I actually don’t want to by cynical – it’s supposed to be funny! I know just too well that fighting again somebody or something will make that target only stronger, anywhere from actually winning against me to succumbing but becoming a martyr and thus gaining sympathy from well-meaning people.

I also know that the only way to rid us of these little tyrants is to ignore them. Just withholding any energy from them – good or bad – because this is what they live on. I believe it was Stefan Molyneux from Freedomain Radio who predicted  that the current system will go out with a just whimper. It makes total sense to me that somebody or something parasitic will just whither away once the food source is withheld.

Everybody who understands this only has to do one thing – spread the word without falling into the trap of preaching. Say what you have to say and back off. No defending of the statement if it is attached, no arguing for it and not even cynical remarks of laughter. Just see, say and move on.

Here is a story, that appeared as a “letter the editor” in the Jackson, MS news paper on August 29, 2009, to practice that on…

Dear  Sirs:

During my last night’s  shift in the ER, I had the pleasure of evaluating a patient with a shiny new gold tooth, multiple elaborate tattoos, a very expensive brand of tennis shoes and a new cellular telephone equipped with her favorite R&B tune for a ringtone. Glancing over the chart, one could not help noticing her payer  status: Medicaid. She smokes more than one costly pack of cigarettes every day and, somehow, still has  money to buy beer.

And  our Congress expects me to pay for this woman’s health care? Our nation’s health care crisis is not a shortage of quality  hospitals, doctors or nurses.  It is a crisis of culture — a culture in which it is perfectly acceptable to spend money on vices  while refusing to take care of one’s self or, heaven forbid, purchase health insurance. A culture that thinks “I can do whatever I want to because someone else will always take care of  me”. Life is really not that  hard. Most of us reap what we sow.

Don’t  you  agree?

Starner Jones,  MD
Jackson, MS

We can look at this situation with fury and get all worked up about it or we could just look at it from the far future as an interesting historical deviation from sanity.

And it’s definitely nothing to get cynical about it – so, no more cynicism for me!