What Baby Thinks
The following discourse, from my novel manuscript Moon Shadows: the Revelation, in edit, is a precocious girl's heartfelt address to an eclectic group of goddesses, humans, and aliens ensconced on a Wyoming ranch, who are engaged in an effort to overthrow and reconstruct the United States government and its constitution and laws. The little rebel is trying to express her discomfort with the prejudices, the oppression, the malicious overreaching and power mongering of patriarchal authority prevalent in the existing governance. Her statement is a simple essay on human values of good and evil, right and wrong, justice and injustice, and whether we humans know who we are and where we're going. The group is at a party – an outdoor dinner and dance with a western theme featuring live music from the Alabama band, which has just taken a break, and the raucous, somewhat inebriated, crowd has fervently implored her to speak to them, having been highly amused by her previous nationally televised speeches -- full of sassy wit with a dry, understated, sense of humor and some embarrassing moments.
. . . "I ain't prepared nothin' to talk to you about," LaRae said, clutching a wireless microphone near her lips, " so what I'd like to do is talk a little bit about a few things that might be considered controversial – kind of like using the word nigger in polite company; or like being pro-life but an advocate of war, genocide, death, and destruction at the same time."
The crowd interrupted her, cheering her name – a few chants of Baby, Baby, Baby rolled through the audience, which surprised LaRae because no one ever called her Baby except Kj or, on rare occasions, Rachel and Gabby.
"Jesus!" LaRae exclaimed, squinting off into various places in the crowd. "My tender ears hear some of you calling me Baby or is it just my imagination? Kj calls me Baby for reasons I'm afraid to question her about. Maybe it has something to do with wetting myself on national television the other night, except that she called me Baby long before that ever happened. But then comparative logic – babies and pee – tells me that still could be the reason; . . ." (Some of the more sophisticated , or less drunk, in the audience roared with laughter, while others stared stupidly at her.) ". . . after all, I'm not a baby and that embarrassing episode was about the only time I've ever acted like one since I was one. But just so's you know, I just peed a little while ago, so you don't have to worry about it happening again." (Once more, she waited for the laughter to subside.) "Maybe the real reason, though, is 'cause I like to snuggle up so close and warm in Kj's arms at night." She smiled up at Kj who was on the raised deck at the rear of the main house, leaning on the railing, listening. A collective soft sigh murmured like a breath of wind through the crowd.
" . . . Now don't get me wrong; if Kj were to stop calling me Baby I would be devastated, 'cause Kj calls me that because she loves me. If she quit calling me Baby tomorrow, I would find a little stick about three feet long and bundle up my belongings in a big checkered red and black Wyoming bandana, tie it to the end of the stick, put it over my shoulder, and shuffle off with my chin down between my little boobs, all forlorn, looking for the end of the trail," (A sad moan of pretentious sympathy drifted through her audience as they pictured LaRae's pitiful scenario.) "and if Kj quit calling Rachel nigger girl, I'd have a big, sad, miserable, beautiful black companion to go with me – like Huckleberry Finn did. Or was it Tom Sawyer? I forget. You see, those are terms of endearment, and they are very personal and very special. I can get away with calling Miranda a gook or a slant-eye and Rachel a nigger because I love them and they love me, and there is no bigotry or hatred hidden in those terms of endearment."
The crowd realized then that LaRae was going to talk about something deadly serious, and their light-heartedness dissipated in the cool Wyoming air. They fell silent as she talked, caught up in her message, enchanted with her provocative personality. She mused on for awhile about prejudices and how they spawned hatred and bigotry, and then began to get to the point of her message.
"This morning one of the best friends I have in all the world was shot in the back by an overzealous neo-fascist pig – not a term of endearment. If Kj called me a pig I'd have a feeling she didn't like me very much at all . . ." (She paused for the strained, nervous laughter and soft applause.) "Many of you have met Hannah tonight and you're very lucky you had the chance, for she would be dead if our friends, the Zeta-Reticulans, had not known how to save her life." (Now the applause was louder and longer.) "She will be fine thanks to them. But in less than two weeks Gabby has been shot at, Rachel has been shot at, and the government has tried to kill Kj more than once. Marin has been shot at, and Miranda and Grey have had close encounters with death. Kj was shot in the head, and lost part of an ear, and at least five million innocent people have been murdered for absolutely nothing but to try to intimidate the rest of us. What the hell's goin' on here anyway?
"As a human race of beings, we call ourselves civilized; we call ourselves intelligent; we call ourselves benevolent, just, and kind; we call ourselves merciful. Yep, we call ourselves all kinds of grandiose self-flattering egotistical names and exalt ourselves as leaders of a civilized world – just one baby step away from the foot of the throne of God and his everlasting salvation, full of peace, comfort, and bliss, up there in heaven somewhere.
"Well let me tell you something. Gods don't sit on no throne, and we humans have no clue what the words civilized or kind or just or benevolent mean. The very same politician, corporate financial tycoon, or religious leader who claims that a woman has no choice in the birth process, willfully, without a second thought, sends thousands or even millions of non-aborted ex-fetuses off to die for them in war or sacrifices their lives in genocide. Why do those in power do that? Why, for their own political, financial, or religious benefit, of course. How hypocritical and duplicitous is that? How civilized is that? How benevolent is that? How righteous is that?" LaRae paused, and the silence was heavy like the dank pall of a London fog at midnight.
"No doubt there are good gods and evil gods, but if we humans are god-like, created in some god's image, only a blessing away from sitting in authority next to our God in his kingdom, then the god we are striving to emulate cannot possibly be a benevolent, loving, god. Good old common sense should tell us that. So I urge all of you to use your own senses, your own eyes and ears and brains, to consider who and what your are – rather than relying on some patriarchal authoritarian influence. Could it be that we have been hoodwinked? I think so; in fact I'm sure of it.
"Kj said we are in the times of tribulation. The souls of us who are alive right now have an advantage over those who have passed on before us, for if we are true to our instincts – our inherent intuition – and use knowledge and wisdom for what it is to judge our own hearts, we have a fighting chance to make the right choice about who and what we are and where we're going. Kj said there is war in heaven, but we don't know who will win that war – only that the true good will triumph over the true evil. Well, some of you – a whole lot of you -- out there think you know. But I ask you this: Is what you have been told and taught all your lives to be the truth really the truth?
"Oh, I hear lots of you saying to yourselves, Why of course it is. So I ask you this: Have you personally investigated for your own self, or have you let someone down the street investigate for you, allowing you to accept what he tells you because you're mentally and curiously lazy?
"A couple of weeks ago, such thoughts and questions were among the farthest things removed from my own list of intellectual priorities; now such thoughts and questions dominate everything else. If you are not reacting as I have, you must change your mind right now, and ask others to do the same, and ask them to ask others, and so on, till we have created a collective massive consciousness considering this grave problem of deciding the truth about who or what represents the good and who or what represents the evil. I swear to you right now that fewer than one in a million of us know the answer, and it ain't likely to be that someone down the street."
LaRae smiled brightly, waved, hopped down from the stage platform, sat down beside Hannah, lying on her cot near the platform, and affectionately ran her hand through her friend's hair. The crowd remained silent, and the Alabama band, unsure if it would be appropriate, was hesitant to take the stage for their final set of the evening. The pervasive feeling of doubt and ignorance that LaRae had injected into her audience had left everyone feeling inadequate and insecure.
"I think they got the message, LaRae," Hannah said, her voice soft and weak, "but you better get back up there and tell them there's no reason to live like monks the rest of their lives while they contemplate their navels." She laughed and winced, the pain bringing tears to her eyes. LaRae leaned down and lightly kissed Hannah's tears away, then softly kissed her on her swollen lips.
Sensing that Hannah was right, LaRae climbed back up on the stage, and picked up the mic. "Jesus, all I did was ask you all to start thinking for yourselves – now you're not thinking at all. I thought we were having a party here." LaRae laughed, looking down at her injured friend with gratitude and love, then waved the Alabama band onto the stage. She kissed every one of them as they arrived, telling each one to play Patsy Cline's oldy but goody, Back in Baby's Arms from their point of view. She looked up to where Kj was watching and blew a kiss to her, too.
VVV
vvv
. . . "I ain't prepared nothin' to talk to you about," LaRae said, clutching a wireless microphone near her lips, " so what I'd like to do is talk a little bit about a few things that might be considered controversial – kind of like using the word nigger in polite company; or like being pro-life but an advocate of war, genocide, death, and destruction at the same time."
The crowd interrupted her, cheering her name – a few chants of Baby, Baby, Baby rolled through the audience, which surprised LaRae because no one ever called her Baby except Kj or, on rare occasions, Rachel and Gabby.
"Jesus!" LaRae exclaimed, squinting off into various places in the crowd. "My tender ears hear some of you calling me Baby or is it just my imagination? Kj calls me Baby for reasons I'm afraid to question her about. Maybe it has something to do with wetting myself on national television the other night, except that she called me Baby long before that ever happened. But then comparative logic – babies and pee – tells me that still could be the reason; . . ." (Some of the more sophisticated , or less drunk, in the audience roared with laughter, while others stared stupidly at her.) ". . . after all, I'm not a baby and that embarrassing episode was about the only time I've ever acted like one since I was one. But just so's you know, I just peed a little while ago, so you don't have to worry about it happening again." (Once more, she waited for the laughter to subside.) "Maybe the real reason, though, is 'cause I like to snuggle up so close and warm in Kj's arms at night." She smiled up at Kj who was on the raised deck at the rear of the main house, leaning on the railing, listening. A collective soft sigh murmured like a breath of wind through the crowd.
" . . . Now don't get me wrong; if Kj were to stop calling me Baby I would be devastated, 'cause Kj calls me that because she loves me. If she quit calling me Baby tomorrow, I would find a little stick about three feet long and bundle up my belongings in a big checkered red and black Wyoming bandana, tie it to the end of the stick, put it over my shoulder, and shuffle off with my chin down between my little boobs, all forlorn, looking for the end of the trail," (A sad moan of pretentious sympathy drifted through her audience as they pictured LaRae's pitiful scenario.) "and if Kj quit calling Rachel nigger girl, I'd have a big, sad, miserable, beautiful black companion to go with me – like Huckleberry Finn did. Or was it Tom Sawyer? I forget. You see, those are terms of endearment, and they are very personal and very special. I can get away with calling Miranda a gook or a slant-eye and Rachel a nigger because I love them and they love me, and there is no bigotry or hatred hidden in those terms of endearment."
The crowd realized then that LaRae was going to talk about something deadly serious, and their light-heartedness dissipated in the cool Wyoming air. They fell silent as she talked, caught up in her message, enchanted with her provocative personality. She mused on for awhile about prejudices and how they spawned hatred and bigotry, and then began to get to the point of her message.
"This morning one of the best friends I have in all the world was shot in the back by an overzealous neo-fascist pig – not a term of endearment. If Kj called me a pig I'd have a feeling she didn't like me very much at all . . ." (She paused for the strained, nervous laughter and soft applause.) "Many of you have met Hannah tonight and you're very lucky you had the chance, for she would be dead if our friends, the Zeta-Reticulans, had not known how to save her life." (Now the applause was louder and longer.) "She will be fine thanks to them. But in less than two weeks Gabby has been shot at, Rachel has been shot at, and the government has tried to kill Kj more than once. Marin has been shot at, and Miranda and Grey have had close encounters with death. Kj was shot in the head, and lost part of an ear, and at least five million innocent people have been murdered for absolutely nothing but to try to intimidate the rest of us. What the hell's goin' on here anyway?
"As a human race of beings, we call ourselves civilized; we call ourselves intelligent; we call ourselves benevolent, just, and kind; we call ourselves merciful. Yep, we call ourselves all kinds of grandiose self-flattering egotistical names and exalt ourselves as leaders of a civilized world – just one baby step away from the foot of the throne of God and his everlasting salvation, full of peace, comfort, and bliss, up there in heaven somewhere.
"Well let me tell you something. Gods don't sit on no throne, and we humans have no clue what the words civilized or kind or just or benevolent mean. The very same politician, corporate financial tycoon, or religious leader who claims that a woman has no choice in the birth process, willfully, without a second thought, sends thousands or even millions of non-aborted ex-fetuses off to die for them in war or sacrifices their lives in genocide. Why do those in power do that? Why, for their own political, financial, or religious benefit, of course. How hypocritical and duplicitous is that? How civilized is that? How benevolent is that? How righteous is that?" LaRae paused, and the silence was heavy like the dank pall of a London fog at midnight.
"No doubt there are good gods and evil gods, but if we humans are god-like, created in some god's image, only a blessing away from sitting in authority next to our God in his kingdom, then the god we are striving to emulate cannot possibly be a benevolent, loving, god. Good old common sense should tell us that. So I urge all of you to use your own senses, your own eyes and ears and brains, to consider who and what your are – rather than relying on some patriarchal authoritarian influence. Could it be that we have been hoodwinked? I think so; in fact I'm sure of it.
"Kj said we are in the times of tribulation. The souls of us who are alive right now have an advantage over those who have passed on before us, for if we are true to our instincts – our inherent intuition – and use knowledge and wisdom for what it is to judge our own hearts, we have a fighting chance to make the right choice about who and what we are and where we're going. Kj said there is war in heaven, but we don't know who will win that war – only that the true good will triumph over the true evil. Well, some of you – a whole lot of you -- out there think you know. But I ask you this: Is what you have been told and taught all your lives to be the truth really the truth?
"Oh, I hear lots of you saying to yourselves, Why of course it is. So I ask you this: Have you personally investigated for your own self, or have you let someone down the street investigate for you, allowing you to accept what he tells you because you're mentally and curiously lazy?
"A couple of weeks ago, such thoughts and questions were among the farthest things removed from my own list of intellectual priorities; now such thoughts and questions dominate everything else. If you are not reacting as I have, you must change your mind right now, and ask others to do the same, and ask them to ask others, and so on, till we have created a collective massive consciousness considering this grave problem of deciding the truth about who or what represents the good and who or what represents the evil. I swear to you right now that fewer than one in a million of us know the answer, and it ain't likely to be that someone down the street."
LaRae smiled brightly, waved, hopped down from the stage platform, sat down beside Hannah, lying on her cot near the platform, and affectionately ran her hand through her friend's hair. The crowd remained silent, and the Alabama band, unsure if it would be appropriate, was hesitant to take the stage for their final set of the evening. The pervasive feeling of doubt and ignorance that LaRae had injected into her audience had left everyone feeling inadequate and insecure.
"I think they got the message, LaRae," Hannah said, her voice soft and weak, "but you better get back up there and tell them there's no reason to live like monks the rest of their lives while they contemplate their navels." She laughed and winced, the pain bringing tears to her eyes. LaRae leaned down and lightly kissed Hannah's tears away, then softly kissed her on her swollen lips.
Sensing that Hannah was right, LaRae climbed back up on the stage, and picked up the mic. "Jesus, all I did was ask you all to start thinking for yourselves – now you're not thinking at all. I thought we were having a party here." LaRae laughed, looking down at her injured friend with gratitude and love, then waved the Alabama band onto the stage. She kissed every one of them as they arrived, telling each one to play Patsy Cline's oldy but goody, Back in Baby's Arms from their point of view. She looked up to where Kj was watching and blew a kiss to her, too.
VVV
Copyright (©2008) Albert Lloyd Williams
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