January 25, 2015 — Philippines National Police Special Actions Force commanders enter the jungle to “Arrest” a suspected Islamic terrorist. The PNP’s SAF commandos end up engaged in a firefight with “The Enemy.”
January 30, 2015 is declared “The National Day Of Mourning” to honor the memories of the brave men who engaged and fought the criminals and terrorists in the jungle.
I am a retired United States Air Force photojournalist and editor. I am a pro-military writer.
Christy, my wife, is a Filipina. My children, Samuel Ranilo Warren and Donna Junea Warren are Filipino-Americans. My father, Samuel E. Warren served in The United States Army Signal Corps in the Philippines in World War II. I was assigned to and served at Clark Air Base in the Republic Of The Philippines in the 1980s.
Needless to say, whenever anything happens in The United States or The Republic Of The Philippines, I and my family feel “Connected.”
I have been fortunate to meet and work with members of the Armed Forces Of The Philippines and The Philippines National Police.
I can understand and related to the grief of the families who lost loved ones in the combat in the jungle.
As a writer, I felt the best way I could express my condolences to the family members was to author a short story to celebrate the devotion, duty and dedication of the Philippines National Police Special Actions Force commandos.
Samuel E. Warren Jr.
One Warren Way
Barangay Baras, Republic Of The Philippines
Warriors Welcome: Faithful 44
by Samuel E. Warren Jr.
Trumpets Of The Universe sound. Planets in space reverberate.
Comets and asteroids brighten for an instant and shimmer as the celestial symphony of sound passes them.
The solar bodies of stars glow with renewed radiation, which causes them to shine light Gold, Ruby and Lapis against The Eternal Charcoal Of The Universe.
For an instant, The Celestial Trumpets Sound and The Universe is a Crystal Of Courage And Compassion, which spreads throughout the infinite canvas of Eternal Night.
Not a single scientific instrument on Earth or adrift in the Infinite Celestial Sea will record the miraculous music.
The Archangels and Angels, in their dress uniforms, stand in their positions, on both sides of The Red Carpet Corridor.
The Souls arrive at the end of the carpet and begin their measured step down the great corridor.
At the end of the red carpet is The Mystical Presence Of The Stranger.
The 44 Souls stroll the carpet past the formation of archangels and angels, who stand in Admiration and Respect.
The 44 Souls stop at about six feet away from The Mystical Presence Of The Stranger, which has the energy form of a human, but not the definition of flesh and form.
Before their eyes, the 44 watch The Transition. The Stranger’s energy takes on a human form in a military dress uniform.
“Welcome To Valhalla !”
The words are spoken and emerge as English, Tagalog, Cebuano, and Waray.
The stranger smiles and nods. “Call me, what you will, ‘ God’, ‘Mars’, ‘Ares’, ‘Thor’, I am your host for this ‘Welcome Reception.”
“You, Gentlemen, are ‘The Fallen 44 of the Philippines National Police Special Action Force’ we are assembled here, this evening. to salute, honor, witness and testify to your courage in battle.”
“You all perished in combat. None of you made the conscious choice ‘To Die.’ All of you fought diligently and courageously to protect yourselves, your comrades-in-arms and to achieve your Mission. No one in The Universe can question your courage and dedication. You died in service to your country, your families and your fellow citizens. There is No Greater Selfless Sacrifice In The Universe.”
“Tonight, this feast is to ‘Welcome You To Our Immortal Ranks.’ Tomorrow, you will witness from your positions here in Valhalla, ‘The National Day Of Mourning’ in the Republic Of The Philippines. It will be a challenge for you.”
“As Souls, you have your celestial bodies. You retain the memories of Love for your families on Earth. Grief, is difficult for humans to understand and express. It will be difficult for you to watch your families grieve and it will be hard for you to accept and acknowledge the intense emotions.”
“Here, I have designed a way that you can welcome and accept the true emotions without you experiencing overwhelming grief for the families you have left behind. Yes, your loved ones remain on Earth.”
“They are angry. They are upset. They are broken. They are confused. In time, they will understand your devotion and dedication to duty demonstrated your undying Love for them. You sought to protect their Lives and an infinite number of lives around the globe by the successful execution of your Mission. There was a definite valid reason for your sacrifice.”
“You, Gentlemen, are representative of what humankind was intended to be. Caring, humane, selfless individuals who lived your lives in appreciation of each sunrise and helped other people on your journey through Life.”
“I salute you. We salute you. The Archangels and Angels Of The Universe salute you. Gentlemen, I welcome you to our ranks.”
“You, now, stand enshrined in eternity as “Heroes.”
You out rank every prophet, saint, pope, ecumenical patriarch, archbishop, grand mufti, rabbi, ayatollah, imam, cleric, priest, preacher, or evangelist who has every lived, who lives or who will ever Live.”
“This is Warrior Heaven. This is Warrior Paradise. You ended your lives on Earth trying to protect and save the lives of others, there is No Greater Love. You perished in a thought for your comrades-in-arms, your families, your country and your world. No God, No Goddess, No Entity In All Of Creation could ‘Ask’ more of any mortal in The Universe.”
“I Welcome You To Valhalla !”
God salutes the assembled 44, who stand at attention proud, but, slightly uncomfortable at the celestial pomp and circumstance.
The Archangels and Angels salute.
God smiles and nods. “Gentelmen, the Valkyries, Amazons and Archangels stand ready to help you settle into your quarters at the conclusion of our formal dinner this evening. Saint Michael and Saint Samuel will show you gentlemen to your seats at the head table.”
God winks. “Tomorrow, will be a challenge for you, gentlemen. Tonight, you dine and rest to witness tomorrow’s activities on Earth.
God smiles and gestures to The Official Reception Line. “Gentlemen, this concludes my official welcome speech. Here in the reception line are The Ancestral Comrades-In-Arms who are anxious to congratulate on your acceptance into our ranks at Valhalla.”
“I believe, many of you, gentlemen are familiar with the combat records and historic valor of your hosts this evening. Allow me to introduce General Emilio Aquinaldo and General Paulino Santos of the Republic Of The Philippines and General Douglas MacArthur and General Mark Clark of the United States Of America.”
God smiles and steps back to allow the 44 Souls in their dress uniforms proceed to the reception line.
God proceeds to His Throne at The Command Table and raises his glass to the assembled heroes, “Gentlemen, I salute, ‘The Fallen 44’ !” God renders a salute.
God raises his glass at the table and looks at all of the honored souls in uniform and into their eyes : “I welcome you into my presence.”
“I welcome you into Valhalla. I hereby confirm your immortal rank, honor and glory and welcome you, as the risen ‘Faithful 44 ! ’”
Philippines National Police
Philippine National Police — Quezon City — facebook
Fallen 44 Links
Acting PNP chief: Retrieving, treating casualties in Maguindanao clash a priority
January 25, 2015 11:48pm
At least 30 elite cops killed in clash with MILF
Posted at 01/25/2015 7:18 PM | Updated as of 01/25/2015 10:57 PM
by Samuel E. Warren Jr.
I am not a religious man.
I do believe it is logical that there is an intelligence in The Universe beyond the understanding and comprehension of humans.
Thus, I tend to believe in “A Spiritual Intelligence” in The Universe.
In my mind and heart, I believe, “Heroes”, especially “Military Heroes” are always honored for their selfless dedication to their country and their fellow citizens.
I choose to believe “The Fallen 44“ have an immortal place of honor in the ranks of all the military warriors who have always served their nations and fellow citizens.
I salute “The Fallen 44“ as “The Faithful 44“
Samuel E. Warren Jr.
by Samuel E. Warren Jr.
Edgar Tolentino, 32, stands 5‘, 6“ in his rice field. He weighs in at 110 pounds. He would be healthier if he got more food to eat everyday, but he has a wife and six children in Barangay San Antonio, Leyte, Republic Of The Philippines.
Edgar has managed to put rice on everyone’s plates three times a day, everyday. Edgar makes it a point to eat less, so, his four year old daughter, Eliza gets a full belly.
The stranger at the sari-sari store, near the rice field, watches Edgar Tolentino stroll through his rice field.
Edgar’s children do well in school. Edwin, his eldest at 14, is studying hard for a chance to work in the Philippine National Police and hopes someday to work at the National Bureau of Investigation.
The Philippine’s sunshine is already burning away the coolness of morning and Edgar feels the rising heat. Ellen, his eldest daughter is 12. Elaine’s hero is former President Manuel Roxas and Edgar watches her at night study by candlelight. The cell phone he got her for Christmas gives off more light and she seems entranced by the images on the tiny screen as she reads the tiny type for her school lessons.
Elaine, a daddy’s girl, told her dad she is going to be Ambassador Of The Republic Of The Philippines to Great Britain. . .and, maybe. . .the United States Of America.
Edgar smiles at the memory and reaches down to look at the rice stalks. He puts his hand up to shield his eyes from the sun’s increasing light and heat.
Edgar wipes the sweat off of his forehead. He reaches down and rubs the back of his right leg. It aches. Doctor Salazar believes a parasite has entered his body from the water, which sometimes stands in the rice field.
For now, medicine has the infection under control. Edgar is worried, but he has his wife and children to love and care for, so, he rubs his leg and steps out into the field with the standing water sloushing loudly under his rubber boots.
The “Heat” is really getting to him. He is light-headed. He turns to walk to the bamboo lean-to with the canvas shade. If he can stretch out on the bamboo mat and rest for a few minutes, then, the heat will pass. Edgar smacks his lips. He would love some water. He left the house without his beat up water jug.
The stranger, an unknown Filipina, glances down at her rubber boots and steps into the rice field and walks toward the bamboo shade structure.
Edgar stretches out on the mat and closes his eyes.
“Thump ! Thump ! Thump !”
Edgar hears his heart beating loudly in his ears. He rubs his chest. He has never realized that it takes so much effort to breathe. He feels his chest rise and fall. Edgar frowns and rubs his head to try to think: “Why is breathing difficult ? I have been breathing all my life.”
His heavy eyes open briefly.
“Who are you,” he asks ? The attractive middle-age Filipina smiles and places her hand on his chest. Edgar moans and looks at his chest. The intense flare of bright blue light becomes a halo of white light and he feels like his body is becoming light.
Edgar has no idea how long he slept. He opens his eyes and is on the bamboo mat in the rice field. He rubs his head and sits up.
He scoots off the mat and stands on polished black marble tile. He looks around him and is in a large marble hall. The air is antiseptic. He scratches his head. He is confused.
“Hoy !” His voice echoes around the great marble hall of statuesque Roman columns and echoes like thunder.
“Hoy !” His scream echoes and rumbles like thunder around the room and shakes the floor like the tremor of an earthquake.
Edgar sits down on the floor because there is no place to run. The pinpoint of intense light burns a hole in the air and expands quickly. A starburst of orange, yellow, red and blue light expands and begins to become a human image within six feet of Edgar.
Edgar gulps and drops down on one knee. He puts up his hand to shield his eyes.
“Stand up,” orders the voice in fluent Waray
Edgar keeps his head down and slowly rises. “You know, who I am,” remarks the voice.
“Then, look at me.”
Edgar blurts out the first thing that comes to his mind. “I am not Moses.”
“Of course, you’re not Moses ! Moses is dust in The Universe. You are Edgar Tolentino. And, I am not a burning bush, so. . .Look at me !”
Edgar slowly lowers his hand as the light slowly fades away.
Edgar gasps and drops to both his knees.
“In the flesh !” God laughs, walks over and puts out his hand to Edgar.
“Stand up, Edgar. If you keep dropping down on your knees every time I ask you a question, then, it is going to take centuries for us to have a meaning full conversation.”
Edgar rises slowly and bolts back a few feet. “You ! You look like. . .! I mean, I look like. . .You !”
God laughs. “Of course. Silly man. All children look like their mothers and fathers. You look like me because I am your Father. Look at my face closely.”
Edgar slowly eases his head forward. “ Tatay !”
“Exactly,” smiles God. “You are looking at ‘The Face Of Your Earthly Father’ when he was age 22, because he is convinced that was the best year of his Life. The point, Edgar, is every human being on the planet is a part of and reflected in God because God Is The Universe.”
Edgar frowns. God smiles. “My bad,” grins God. “I ignored the fact that as a child or man you have never been that interested in philosophy.” God winks. “You were never that curious as a child.”
“Can I ask a question,” asks Edgar.
“Shoot !” God smiles broadly.
“Am I Dead ?”
“Do you feel dead,” teases God ?
Edgar shrugs and carefully touches his chest. God laughs. “No. Edgar Tolentino. You are not dead.”
“You are ‘Taking A Time Out.’ Humans like the terms, Visualization, Near Death Experience, and Out Of Body, among other words to explain your current situation. Suffice to say, your body is resting and your gray matter, brain tissue and mind is open wide. You are thinking faster than you ever thought possible.”
God gestures and a Louis XIV chair appears behind Edgar and an oblong Louis XIV coffee table appears between Edgar and God. A matching chair appears behind God. God smiles and brushes at his shoulder and the white robe changes to a white western shirt, denim jeans and black cowboy boots.
Edgar eases into the chair behind him. His faded, worn, torn red T-shirt and black walking shorts changes on his body. He settles into the chair and glances at the formal barong and black dress slacks that he is wearing complete with dark socks and black comfortable slip on loafers.
“I’m God. I do this kind of stuff.”
“What you thought the term, “Creator”, was just a compliment ?” God smiles and leans back in the chair.
A silver platter appears on the Louis XIV coffee table with the matching silver coffee pot, sugar bowl and milk pitcher. A tall glass of cold water appears closest to Edgar. God gestures at the glass and Edgar drinks the cool, precious water.
Edgar grins. “I have a million questions.”
God laughs. “Let’s start with one. It is easier to answer one question at a time. Then, we will get to the rest, all in due time.”
“One second,” remarks God. He holds up his finger and gestures. “There. Now, when you open your mouth to speak, you will recognize your voice, but, probably, not the language, since you didn’t finish grade school.”
“But, you speak, ‘Waray’,” remarks Edgar in fluent, loud English.
“Yes. I do. I speak read, write and understand every language on the planet, 24 hours a day, everyday of the year. Language is language. I choose English for speed of communication. Plus, English, at the present time, has more words in the Universal Vocabulary, so it is quicker and easier to express and idea and be understood.”
God smiles. “Anyway, Edgar, I did not bring you here to tutor you in English. I brought you here to think about your Life and the lives of your children. You have worked hard all your life to provide for yourself and your family. You’ve gotten off the path.”
Edgar frowns. “I am a religious man. I am doing everything I can to help my barangay participate in the Pope Francis’ visit.”
God nods. “I know, Edgar. You are a good man. You are a good father. Religion is fine to a point. However, when you become too devoted to any religion, then you become a zealot, a fanatic, a radical, an extremist and, then, it is just a small step across the line to criminal and terrorists.”
“You’ve gotten “To Into” your religion and you are going to hurt yourself and your family. Edgar, the world always has more than enough stupid suicide bombers and idiotic religious martyrs. I don’t want you or any member of your family to take that step.”
“Why don’t you stop ‘suicide bombers’ ?” Edgar blurts out.
“I do,” answers God, who gestures and an image of a Middle East man trips in a vacant lot in Damascus and he explodes. “An hour ago in Damascus, this moron blew himself to Kingdom Come. I have countless legions of angels and archangels at my beck and call.”
“The idiotic suicide bombers of the planet keep my legions of covert and military angels on duty around the clock in an attempt to stop or expose the terrorists. My archangels and angels are efficient, but the human mind thinks and conceives ideas faster than the speed of light. As fast as the angels fly, they, don’t always arrive in time to stop the insane suicide freaks of the planet.”
God grins an sips his cup of coffee. The cold refilled glass of water appears on the table by Edgar.
“Okay, son, we have gotten off topic. I brought you hear to let you ‘Take Command of your Life,” smiles God.
Edgar frowns. “I don’t understand.”
“You and your family are not living your lives. You are wasting your lives in support of meaningless fiction that will keep you poor, starving and, in the end, might get you or some, if not all, of your family killed. You can choose to “Waste Your Life” and “Play The Silly Religious Game” or you can open your eyes and enjoy your Life — your choice.
”Satan,” thinks Edgar.
God smiles broadly and laughs loudly.
”No, Edgar. I am Not Satan,” grins God. “Nor, am I am Lucifer. I am not any of the bad guys of the world‘s religion. And, I am not any of the negative energy of the planet.”
Edgar shuffles in his seat. “How do I know ?”
God smiles and leans forward to look at Edgar. “Look into my eyes, Edgar. What do you feel ? What do you sense ?”
“I. . .I. . .,” Edgar’s expression breaks into a grin. He giggles.
“Peace. Joy. Hope. Contentment. Humor. Happy. Happiness. . .you can stop me anytime I get to the right word and feeling,” teases God.
Edgar snickers. “Happy.”
God points at his chest. Edgar eases back in the chair as his eyes witness the vastness of space appear before him with numerous galaxies and planets. God’s face remains in place and The Universe expands around Him.
“I am ‘The Universe’ !”
“You are a Child Of The Universe !”
“You are a Living, Breathing Testament Of All — that has ever been, is, and will ever be.” The panorama of ‘The Universe’ contracts and returns into the body of God in the chair.
Edgar shifts uncomfortable in his chair. God smiles. “Relax, Edgar. I am your Father. I want only the best for you.”
God stands up and a long highly polished walnut dining table appears in the room. The table is set with pancit canton, pancit bihon, barbequed pork chops, baked tilapia, halibut and a large, steaming container of rice. God gestures at the table. “Let’s have lunch. After all, you skipped breakfast this morning to rush off to the rice field.”
Edgar slowly walks toward the table. He puts out a finger to touch the table. “It’s all real,” chuckles God, who settles into his chair at the head of the table. God gestures at the chair to his right. “We have hot pandasal rolls and you will notice the pitchers of ice water and ice tea. And, I have my coffee. I love coffee.”
God winks at Edgar. “I considered putting a pitcher of tuba on the table, but you drink coconut wine fast. I want you alert and not drunk to what I am saying.” God grins, waves his hand over the table and cold pitchers of clear soda, black soda and orange soda appear beside Edgar. God looks at his coffee pot and a cold pitcher of grape juice and a cold pitcher of orange juice appears.
“Eat, drink and be merry,” grins God, who picks up his knife and fork to cut into his barbequed pork chop.
Edgar puts pancit on his plate and takes one of the hot rolls. “Why me ?”
“Why you, what,” asks God ?
“I’m no prophet.”
God laughs and puts the napkin to his lips. “Heaven’s No.”
“Edgar, old buddy. Prophet’s are a dime a dozen.”
“Every con man or con woman on the planet seems to play prophet sooner or later. I have priests, imams, nuns, archbishops, evangelists, cardinals, ayatollahs, rabbis, ecumenical patriarchs, ministers, popes, clerics and preachers coming out my ears.”
God grins. “I sometimes wonder whether there are more holy men and holy women on the planet or cockroaches.”
God laughs. “Religion is an old scam and con game. Perhaps, “Fear” is why so many people rush to religion. After all, modern societies still haven’t come up with a legitimate, concrete way to prove the religious people are lazy frauds and crafty criminals.”
God shrugs. “The holy men aren’t ‘Stupid.’ They have learned to play the game well. They put some Money into hospitals, nursing homes, colleges, universities, grade schools, high schools and do some charitable work. They always have their holy book or scriptures with the categorized verses that they are certain answers ever question ever asked. Of course, automobiles were around in the Holy Land in ancient times, so either automobiles are Evil and ‘Of Satan’, or, the old prophets simply weren’t as smart as they thought they were.”
“The same old game for centuries. Prophets and holy men and holy women always claim to have the answers. They are polite and usually can convince the legal and government authorities they care. Still, a scam by any other name is still a scam.”
“It helps when the Holly Rollers, Bible Beaters,Jesus Freaks, Peace Freaks and Prophet Mohammed Freaks get themselves elected into government institutions around the world, so they can keep screwing up domestic and foreign policies of their respective nations.”
Edgar frowns. “God, the religious people. . .the holy men. . .they all represent you.”
God shakes his head No.
He dabs his lips to his napkin.
“I am God ! I represent God !” God grins, ” I have lived long enough, I can represent myself.”
“I, God speak for myself. I do not need some ‘criminals in costumes’ to pretend to ‘represent’ Me.”
God chews his food and sips his coffee. “Holy Men represent their wallets,” explains God, who dabs his napkin to his lips. “They are ‘too lazy’ to get ‘A Real Job’, so, they find ‘a scam’ where they don’t have to work up a sweat and run with it to make a living.”
God leans back in the chair. “Edgar, ‘I’ created ‘You’ and ‘All’ humans to live on earth and enjoy your Life. I gave you a brain, intelligence, common sense, freedom and a beautiful planet to enjoy. It is your Life, Edgar. I want you to think for yourself.”
“Son, you always have to ‘Work’ for what you want in Life. Nothing comes easy. If you have to ‘Work’ for something then you can appreciate it and enjoy it, whether it is a jug of tuba under a coconut tree in a rice field or in a living room in a mansion in Manila.”
God shakes his head. “Don’t “Blame” me for the silly ‘Religion Crap’ of the planet ! The idea of ‘Religion’ is a ‘Stupid’ idea of humanity because you deny your skills, talents, capabilities and intellect, in a sick attempt, to live up to some old perverts’ ancient comic book understanding of Life.”
God smiles and puts a piece of the barbequed pork chop into his mouth and chews. “Umm . . .Heaven. Absolute Heaven. I Love Pork.”
Edgar finishes his plate and refills his glass with some of the black-colored soda. “I am Dead,” asks Edgar ?
God smiles. “You tasted the pancit canton, the pandasal, the fish and the fizz of the soda on your tongue. Newsflash, Edgar, ‘Dead People’ don’t dine.”
God smiles broadly and gestures at the end of the table. A middle-age buxom Filipina in a bright blue shark skin business suit and bright red ruffled blouse appears and strolls to the chair beside God.
“Archangel Jonnari allow me to introduce Edgar Tolentino,” introduces God.
“You. . she,” stammers Edgar.
“Yes,” God nods.
“Archangel Jonnari was working the aftermath of the terrorist bombing in Paris, when I reassigned her to deliver you to me this morning.
The Filipina Archangel winks at Edgar. “Having fun, yet,” she asks ? God nods and Archangel Jonnari settles into a chair.
A 20 something man in a formal waiter’s uniform appears and pours a hot cup of coffee to serve to God.
“Thank you,” smiles God, who sips his coffee.
“I am putting Archangel Jonnari and Archangel Fernando in command of two legions of archangels to deploy to Manila and Tacloban City. I already have three legions of angels on the ground deployed from Manila to the outskirts of Tanauan to work the papal visit,” explains God.
“Five legions of angels to protect the pope,” comments Edgar.
“Pope Dope,”shrieks God ! He laughs loudly and he bursts into laughter.
God wipes a tear of laughter from his eye. “I wouldn’t waste one mutt in Manila to protect that old snake charmer. He is as full of it as a Christmas turkey. Why is it everyone ‘assumes’ God always likes a particular person in the position of pope ? ”
“I have five legions of angels sandals on the ground in the Philippines to try and protect the people. In the 21st Century, global terrorists are like dust because they settle everywhere. It does not matter what you tell people about ‘The Threat’ because they get a massive case of ‘Religion Stupid” and their common sense goes out the door.”
God frowns. “Contrary to popular global belief, it does not ‘Make My Day’ to see dozens of humans dead with flesh and blood everywhere. My legions of archangels and angels are guardians and protectors of the universe who try to save humans as often as they can from doing something stupid which will get the human killed.”
God smirks, “Archangels and angels work for the universe. My archangels and angels are not pitchmen for any of earth’s religions !”
Archangel Jonnari smiles broadly and looks at God. “Sir. If you will excuse me. I should return to Tacloban City.”
“Very well. Thank you, Jonnari.”
The woman nods and vanishes.
“Manners,” remarks God. “The world was a nicer, kinder place, back in the past, when parents and schools taught, ‘Manners : ’ Please. Thank You. Yes, sir. No, sir. Yes ma’am. No ma’am. People lost their ‘Respect’ for others. Then, people lost ‘Respect’ for themselves. Now, my beautiful planet is a toilet bowl of fools, idiots, moron and frightened freaks.”
God shrugs. He scoots his chair back from the table and looks at Edgar.
“Show time, son,” he announces.
God moves his chair further back. “Crash Course In God. Here it comes. Go ahead and sip some soda. I am ready to rock your world and wake up your mind. Are you ready ?”
Edgar slowly nods. God grins. He moves his hand down and God becomes Goddess. A tall, buxom muscular Filipina in a goddess evening gown stands smiling at Edgar.
Edgar drops his glass of soda and falls out of the chair. Goddess steps over and puts out her hand to help Edgar to his feet. Edgar scoots back.
“I don’t understand.”
Goddess smiles and laughs as she helps Edgar to his feet. “Humans really have a harder time with gender and sexual orientation issues than with racial and social issues,” Goddess admits. Edgar notices God’s voice changed when he became Goddess.
Edgar frowns and scratches his head as he sits back in his seat. “Are you God or Goddess,” asks Edgar ?
Goddess laughs and winks, “You are really going to like the answer to that question.”
Goddess puts her hand in front of her face. Her fingernail color changes from pink to crimson red as she moves her hand down.
Edgar witnesses the changes to Goddess’ face as the eyelashes appear longer and false. The lips of her mouth seem to become fuller and the lipstick shade of pink changes to crimson red.
The traditional Filipina’s long charcoal locks displays blended in blonde highlights in her hair that hangs down past her shoulders to the top of her D-cup breasts, which expands the fabric of the gown into a denim western shirt with rhinestone in the place of piping on the blouse.
Edgar slowly leans forward to glance at the thickness of the Filipina’s neck and realizes that a red bandana acts as a hair band and the tails of the bandana are slightly visible behind her clip on long, diagonal earrings, which seem to weigh her ears lobes down.
Edgar realizes that Goddess was in an evening gown and, perhaps, this slow changing process is just allowing her to change into more comfortable attire. The wide white engraved western belt appears in the belt loops and Goddess grasps the large shiny silver oval belt buckle and smiles at Edgar.
Edgar seems confused. Goddess smiles and puts up a manicured finger to gesture that he should wait and watch as the fading gown slowly transforms into form fitting flared denim jeans, which rest on the instep of the petroleum black cowboy boots. Goddess swings her hips to the left and asks, “What do you think, Edgar ?”
Edgar scoffs. “You changed from an evening gown into blue jeans ?”
Goddess laughs loudly and tosses back her head. Edgar notices the laugh is different.
“The long dress was nice. I imagine the pants are more comfortable. Maybe, it is the heat from the rice field, but other than your clothes changing before my eyes I don’t see anything really different about you,” admits Edgar.
Goddess laughs loudly. “Human eyes are precise instruments. However, the human eyes and the human mind does not always agree on the image seen,” smirks Goddess, who swings her hips to the right.
Edgar shakes his head confused.
“T-Goddess,” proclaims Goddess !
Edgar’s mouth drops open. He gawks at Goddess for a moment and leans slightly forward in his chair. Suddenly, he bolts back against the chair.
“God is a Bakla !”
Edgar wretches backward and the chair slips and falls back against the floor. T-Goddess hunkers down to help Edgar to his feet. A surprised, Edgar pauses and then puts out his hand to be helped to his feet. T-Goddess picks up the fallen chair and sits it upright.
T-Goddess laughs. “You need to take a breath. You look like you are going to have a heart attack.”
“Edgar, son, take a deep breath.”
T-Goddess steps back and puts her hands on her hips. Edgar watches T-Goddess transform back into God before his eyes.
“I am Everything.”
“I am Everyone.”
“I am ‘The Creator.’”
“As the creator, I created everything. Since I created everything. I created everyone. Heterosexual, Homosexual, Hermaphrodite, Gay, Lesbian, and Transexuals. I am proud of all my creations because they are all my sons and daughters.”
God winks, “I got out my box of crayons and created the different races of the planet as well.
“You are all my children.”
“I love you all.”
“Having said that let me explain something, I disown all terrorists. There is No Redemption. Terrorists become dust in The Universe, which means they might end up as part of the ring of Saturn or continue to drift through space for eternity.”
“Suicide Bombers ! Religious Martyrs ! All those dirtbags get a Major Wake Up Call once it is too late. Serial killers and Mass Murderers I look at their souls before I make a final decision. Usually they don’t do well when it comes to ‘Eternity.’
“One of the major problems of Life On Earth is ‘Belief .’”
“No one believes in God anymore. No one believes in Goddess anymore. No one believes in ‘The Universe’ anymore. As a result, No one believes in themselves anymore.”
God nods at Edgar. “Edgar, you have had a busy, hard life. We both know, you are a mechanic at heart. You have always loved taking things apart and putting them back together again. You were as happy as a hog in slop for four years ago in Bulacan when you were working with your uncle on Jeepney engines.”
“You put aside your skills and talents to return to Leyte to work on the family rice farm. Your Life. Your decision. Ah, but, was it the right decision ?”
“Edgar, Life is my gift. I want all my children to live their gift to the best of their ability. Everyone on earth, needs to wise up and take charge of their life. Live the Life you want.”
“Never ever surrender your personal freedom as a human being to some old snake charmers whose ‘Sole’ interest in ‘You’ is your wallet.”
Edgar frowns. “You are telling me to ‘throw away’ my religion.”
God shakes his head No. “I don’t care what silly religious fairy tale around the globe that people choose because in the end all those thoughts and prayer end up with Me. I am telling you to quit being “Religious Stupid.”
“This year alone, you have “Wasted” 2,894 pesos and 37 centavoes on ‘The Church.’ You could of taken 1,000 of those pesos and bought you some hollow blocks to built a stronger house.”
“If you had bought some cement for around 517 pesos back in March, then, you would have a foundation for your home, so that the next flood doesn’t end up in your living room with your wife and kids rushing to put their clothes in plastic bags to keep them from being washed away.”
“Edgar, son, you are a good man. You are smart and you work hard. Quit giving your money away to lazy old fools in costumes, who only run their mouths.”
“Santo Poppa. Pope. Grand Mufti. Archbishop Of Canterbury. Ecumenical Patriarch — whatever title you give these old fools it always comes down to “Con Man” and “Your Wallet.”
The waiter clears away the dishes, while Edgar stares at God.
“You really do look like my father,” Edgar remarks. “I mean, my father. . . back in Barangay Cameri. He’s older now and got a lot of white hair, but the resemblance is. . .unnerving.”
God laughs and Edgar’s face appears on God’s face. Edgar grabs his chin. “Now, I’m really anxious. It’s like talking to yourself in a mirror.”
God tilts his head back and laughs and the face of Edgar’s best friend Rafael appears on God’s head. “Does this face make you more comfortable ?”
Edgar nods. “You want me to quit giving to and supporting ‘The Church ?’
“No. I want you to take charge of your Life. You can play whatever silly religion game you want to on earth. Keep in mind, the religion game usually makes people feel better.” God winks at Edgar, “I know you, Edgar, you’d rather “Waste” your Sunday morning on the barangay basketball court instead of fighting off sleep and boredom in the pew for Mass.”
Edgar blushes. God grins, “When a game of basketball makes you feel better.,” God snickers, “Go shoot some hoops.”
“Don’t ‘Waste’ your Life living someone else’s silly religious fairy tales from the past. Live your Life, Teach your children to live their Lives.”
Edgar nods slowly. “The Pope ?”
God laughs. “What about ‘Pope Dope’ ?”
“I believe in The Holy Father,” mumbles Edgar.
God laughs. “You believe in an ole’ holy man and his crew of old men and old women half-a-world- away from Leyte; why ?”
Edgar scratches his head.
God chuckles. “Could it be because your father believed and his father before him believed.”
“Absolutely,” replies Edgar.
God laughs. “Once Edgar people believed the world was flat. The world is a globe. The point, Edgar is a belief can be wrong. Just because someone tells you to believe something, you should use your own mind and do your own homework before you accept a belief. Especially, when that belief can suck the Life out of your wallet by following the ‘stupid’ outdated ideas, rules, commandments and beliefs ?”
God shrugs. “You can choose to be ‘Pope Dope Stupid’, Edgar.”
“ The choice to be ‘Pope Dope Stupid’ is not going to make your life or those of your family any better. You will keep a bunch of old men in Rome and around the planet happy because your hard work and Money will allow them to sit on their hind ends and enjoy life at your expense.
“You can spend the rest of your life letting your sweat pay for new barongs for young priests and buying groceries for nuns or you can use your Money for your family and to help your community.”
“Edgar, do you really believe Pope Francis I cares about you,” asks God ?
Edgar frowns. “I. . .I”
God shakes his head No. “Many years ago, he was a bar bouncer. Edgar, you have been in bars and you have even been thrown out of one or two. Did the bouncer ever strike you as a compassionate human ?”
“If all else fails, use logic, son. You have an old 70 something years old man in a foreign country, who doesn’t know you from Adam. How is he going to make your Life better ? Say a prayer for you. You are a grown man and a smart human, you can say your own prayers.”
“Is Pope Dope going to look out into the sea of faces in Tacloban City and suddenly realize that he needs to help you set up a system to sell your rice and improve your farming techniques ?”
God shakes his head No.
“Dog and pony show, Edgar. Pope Dope will smile, wave, and meet with the important people. Pope Dope will do his ‘Holy Man’ routine, then, he will meet with some infirm and poor people. He will give them a smile and some words of blessing. He will forget most of the names and faces on his trip to the plane to fly out of the Philippines.”
God rises from the table and Edgar follows him. They walk forward and step into the same room, which is now decorated like a study at a British gentlemen’s club with highly polished wood moulding and door frames. They sit in the overstuffed straight back chairs by the table. A buxom blonde waitress in uniform in a white blouse and black skirt, hose and shoes walks in and places a plate of chocolate cake and vanilla ice cream, by God and Edgar.
“Edgar, I simply want what every mother and father wants for their children to have a rich, rewarding Life and to be happy.”
God slices into his cake and ice cream. “Don’t you think ‘The Church’ makes me happy,” asks Edgar ?
“Does it,” quips God ?
“I. . .my. . .my mother. . .”, stammers Edgar.
God scoffs. ” ‘ The Church’ made your mother feel better, Edgar. She is not you. And, you are not her.”
God shakes his head No. “Son, I sense your every thought feeling and emotion. I know what makes you happy and what doesn’t. You have always been skeptic. Super Typhoon Yolanda freaked a lot of people out. You aren’t the first person that Yolanda drove running and screaming to church once the winds disappeared.”
“You didn’t stop Yolanda,” shrieks Edgar !
“No. I did not,” remarks God in a matter of fact voice.
“Yolanda was a product of earth’s weather system. Weather is based on science. I knew it was going to be bad. Whether you believe it or not, I had Legions Of Archangels and Angels, ‘Boots On The Ground’ in the midst of it. It is no walk in the park to downgrade a massive force of nature. Long story short, I and the angels kept down the body count.”
God smiles. “Yes. Edgar, I got my hands dirty.
“I moved through the storm and did everything I could on the ground to limit the loss of Life. In a crisis, like Yolanda, whether you are an entity or assume the forms of men and women, no one is going to recognize you because the individual ‘Fear’ is far too great.”
God looks sad for a moment. “We worked as fast as we could. It is not easy to get ahead of shifting physical force, even when you can move at the speed of thought. We did manage to keep the body count down. Still, that is no comfort for people who lost loved ones to Yolanda’s wind and waves.”
“If you couldn’t stop Yolanda; why should I believe in you,” asks Edgar ?
“You shouldn’t,” replies God abruptly ! God looks deep into Edgar’s eyes.
“Excuse me,” replies Edgar.
“You should ‘Believe In Yourself, Edgar.’ Everyone should believe in themselves.”
“You as a human can not ‘Stop Yolanda’ or any super typhoon like her. More typhoons, earthquakes,volcanoes, and tidal waves will happen because the planet has a life of it’s own.”
“When you realize that You are A Child Of The Universe, then, you start to understand there is always two parts to God. You the human is one part. You Beyond is the second part, which is beyond your human form in the universe.”
“It is always the second part of The God Formula, which confuses people. Suffice to say, whether you grasp the concept of universal energy as entity, fairy, extra-terrestrial or a God tossing out lightning bolts; it is this God Part of you which knows you are connected to the universe.”
“Humans seldom find a way to combine these two major parts, so the physical part does it’s best to stumble through Life until Death.”
Archangel Jonnari appears in the room.
“Edgar, son, I have enjoyed our conversation. I want the best for you and your family. Live your Life to the best of your ability and be happy.”
Edgar takes a step. “Please, let me ask one final question.”
“You are saying I can live my Life without a religion. Religion, most of the time, is just a sham and a con game to keep people down and serving phony masters.”
“Jesus Christ,” mumbles Edgar.
God shrugs and turns toward Edgar. “What about Jesus Christ ?”
Edgar smiles. “He is your son ! Lamb Of God. Lion Of God. Lord. Savior. Son Of God. Son Of Man. Messiah !”
“No,” answers God.
“The stories of Jesus Christ and The Prophet Mohammed all came from The Middle East. In the beginning, The Middle East was a rich, lush section of the planet. The Arabs chose to destroy their homeland. They have their ancient stories to live on in their endless daily loop of violence and Death.”
“The World needs “Common Sense” and “Courage.” People need to believe in themselves. People need to believe in their intellect, skills, abilities and talents. People need to recognize “The God Essence” within themselves.”
God smirks. “I don’t want people to suit up in leotards and capes and see if they can bounce bullets off their chest. They won’t. Bullets come under and respond to the physical laws of science.”
God winks. “Edgar, you are a rice farmer. You understand the growing season. I love my plants. I love my children. I assure you I love you more than the blades of grass, the vines, the rice stalks, wheat stalks and hay stalks around the globe. Plants die and are reborn in the seeds in the earth. Wouldn’t it seem logical that my children would live again ?”
“Edgar. You are a good man. You have worked almost the instant that you came out of the womb. Most children play with their father’s wrenches, you learned to use them.”
“In our talk, this morning, does it sound like I would allow a lazy bum to lay around my house while I worked my fingers to the bone to put food on the table ?”
“No,” answers Edgar.
“Jesus Christ was a lazy Arab bum,” replies God.
God turns to face Edgar. “It is your Life, Edgar. You get to choose what you believe and what you don’t.”
God shrugs. “You, like many people, can choose to chase around the planet bowing and scrapping to the pope or any other silly human who claims to be important and holy.”
You can choose to kiss the holy hind end of any preacher, priest, pope, rabbi, imam, minister, or religious fast-talker on the planet. It is your Life,” emphasizes God.
“Or you can choose to Live Your Live to the best of your ability,” grins God. “Son, the choice is entirely up to you.”
Edgar scratches his head. Archangel Jonnari steps up to stand by Edgar.
God smiles and replies,“The Pope or Life : Choose ?”
Edgar coughs and the woman helps him into his house. Edgar looks up at Archangel Jonnari, the middle-age Filipina, in the worn T-shirt and stretched dark black fadded jogging pants. Archangel Jonnari, winks and steps back. Ellen, Edgar’s wife rushes to him. “The ‘Heat.’” gasps Edgar.
His wife looks at him. “What,” he asks ?
“You’re speaking English,” she smiles.
“Give me a minute. Must be the heat,” explains Edgar, who looks at his walking shorts and red T-shirt.
Edgar shakes his head. “Ellen. The Money.”
“I put it away, so we can see the pope in Tacloban City or Tanauan,” Ellen answers in English.
Edgar shakes his head No. “Our kids are hungry. I noticed Elena’s flip flop sandals,this morning, and they are smiling at me. The sole has come apart and it is hard for her to walk in those sandals,” Edgar replies in Waray.
“I’m okay. I’ll get the motorbike. We are going to get Elena some sandals.”
Edgar stands up and smiles. “I’m not hungry,” he grins. “I am always hungry, but I’m not hungry.” He dances a jig.
“What’s gotten into you,” asks Ellen ?
“God !” Edgar smiles.
“God has gotten into me ! I had the greatest dream. Wait ! It wasn’t a dream.” Edgar notices the soda stain on his T-shirt. “Yes ! It was Real ! I knew it ! The feeling ! Oh, Ellen, the feeling !”
Edgar kisses Ellen on the forehead. “I feel great. I must of taken a nap in the field.”
“Incidentally, I noticed you have worn holes in all of your panties,” remarks Edgar. Ellen blushes.
“Vener, stopped by and left you three jugs of tuba. He said he owed it to you for helping him with the lechon for his daughter’s baptismal last week,” remarks Ellen.
Edgar smiles and winks up at the sky and whispers, “Maraming Salamat, po.”
“Come we are going to the market ! The kids need some food other than rice all the time.”
Edgar winks and proclaims loudly, “You need new panties !”
Ellen blushes and gets her wallet out of a plastic drawer in the plastic chest of drawers in the small room. She scowls at Edgar steps forward and stops. “What about the pope ?”
Edgar smirks, “He can buy his own panties !”
I am a writer.
I love to write.
I retired from the United States Air Force after a career as a military photojournalist and editor. I have written many stories in my life.
Now, that I am retired, I enjoy my passion of writing on my blogs.
I haven’t written a novel. Perhaps, I never will. However, I do write short stories.
If you want to read any of my short stories, then, check my “Sam I Am Blog” on Word Press. You can check the blog often or type into your search engine : Samuel E. Warren Jr. Short Story.
Be advised that I am a writer who writes on a variety of topics. I am a Spiritual Man.
I am NOT a Religious Man. I am downright blasphemous. I am sacreligious. I am irreligious.
Thus, on the subject of The World’s Traditional Religions, I would be the man, who stands next to Satan and could enjoy a cigar and conversation in the Afterlife with Aleister Crowley.
In my lifetime, Islam has conducted a global campaign of violence and chaos, so I will never have anything nice to say about Islam or on the subject of Muslims.
The only other fact that you need to be aware of in my short stories is I use “Warren English.”
I violate the accepted “Rules Of American English” and, most definitely, “Her Majesty’s United Kingdom English.”
I write to communicate and for dramatic effect.
I watch my spelling.
I use the standard English format of subject, verb, and object. I toss in adjectives, adverbs and prepositional phrases where needed. I don’t worry about comma splices. I do not write to impress English professors or grammar teachers.
As a military journalist, I had to essentially memorize Strunk & White’s Rules Of Grammar. As an editor, I saw sections of The Associated Press Style Book and Libel Manual in my dreams.
Strunk & White are both dead. The Associated Press never sent me a paycheck. I’m retired. I write as I please.
I employ a “Journalistic Style” of writing, which means I usually don’t put more than two or three sentences in a paragraph.
The other factor of “Warren English” is I capitalize English words that are not always capitalized.
Life is important — you get one.
Death is important — you only want one.
War is important because it is Life and Death on a grand scale.
Thus, I routinely capitalize Death, Life and War.
The primary focus of my “Warren English” is communication and understanding.
I write for fun. I write for my readers. I would hope that I can inform, entertain, inspire and challenge your beliefs and awaken your imagination.
Look for a Samuel E. Warren Jr. Short Story coming soon to the Sam I Am Blog.
by Samuel E. Warren Jr.
Super Typhoon Yolanda changed my Life.
I lived inside “Ground Zero.”
I am a “Survivor.”
One obvious change Yolanda has made to my Life is I am more “aggressive.” Any pretense of patience is completely gone from my Life. I get a project done or I toss it and move on to one I can get done.
One obvious change Yolanda gave me is the opportunity to “Face Death.”
I have had a year to look at my reaction. I should be “Petrified.” I definitely felt, “Concern.”
Today is Saturday, November 8, 2014. A year ago, at “Ground Zero”, I stood in my bedroom and watched the winds of Super Typhoon Yolanda bow the coconut wood door back and forth like a warped, black LP record flexed back and forth.
Three times, Yolanda blew open the door. Three times, I pushed against the wind and intense walls of blowing rain to close the door.
Yolanda took the roof, but she left the thin sheets of plywood over the roof. Although, she did bend one down almost double to continue to pour a persistent waterfall of rain into the room.
Christy Warren, my wife, stood in front of me, and stared out the single window in the wall. I stood behind Christy and had my arms down around her. I watched the door disco dance against the door jab.
I still remember my chant: “You can stop anytime now.”
I have no idea, how many times I repeated those words. Everyone else in the room was quite.
Junea and Vanissa stood behind me. Digna Mora, the cleaning lady, stood behind the girls. Her son, David was under the concrete shelf sink at the back of the room. He fell asleep.
We heard Yolanda’s winds take the tin roof over the bedroom and the abundance of sudden sunlight over the plywood section confirmed the roof had gone airborne.
There was a plywood section for a roof under the tin. The plywood section held, but a sheet of the wood buckled in half.
The wingtip of “my” Archangel Michael statue held up that section of the roof, while the torrential rain poured in and the dry concrete floor began to fill like a swimming pool. The water inside the room would rise to a half-inch before Yolanda ceased her seize.
I remember every second of Yolanda’s bombardment.
Today, a year later, the sun is shining. The temperature is not too hot. Earlier this afternoon around one p.m., there was a nice breeze. A year ago, the phrase “Hell On Earth” had “A Real World” meaning.
I decided not to go to the “Yolanda Commemoration Ceremonies” in Tacloban City and Tanauan because I wanted “The Day” to think about my reaction to Yolanda.
All week long, ABS-CBN has aired the “Survivor Stories.” As a retired military newsman, I understand the decision. People want to know, “What Was It Like ?”
“Scary,” in a word.
The catch is, obviously, there is a limit to how much adrenaline your body pumps in a crisis situation. You sense and feel, “Fear.” But, the “Fear” can’t last.
“Numbness” replaced the initial “Fear” and the “Concern.” I stood at “The Mercy Of A Force Of Nature.” There was absolutely nothing I could do.
Yolanda could of snatched me or anyone else in the room and tossed us against the walls like rag dolls. Yolanda could of tossed any of us out through the roof.
Yolanda could of reached inside the room and pulled any or all of us out through the narrow doorway. Yolanda kept us corralled and “pinned up” in the room until her winds were done outside.
“Thanks To Yolanda, I no longer ‘Fear Death.’”
Naturally, I have “The Death Fantasy” where you lie in bed, surrounded by family and friends who love you. You close your eyes for the last time and “Death” arrives.
If I get “The Death Fantasy” fine; if not, at least, Yolanda, provided the lesson of awareness and acceptance of “Here Comes, The Last Ride ! ”
A year ago, once I heard the winds disappear, I stepped to the door and opened it.
“Stunned,” is the only word that works.
A Child Of The Cold War, I cut my baby teeth on the stories of United States, Soviet Union and Red Chinese Nuclear Armageddon Aftermath.
I remember the Civil Defense lessons in grade school. I got the blue prints I got in the mail from the United States Superintendent Of Documents to “build a bomb shelter in your backyard.”
Momma never let me build the bomb shelter. I couldn’t even convince her to build a basement. I always wanted a basement.
As a teenager, I had watched countless TV shows and movies about The Cold War Nuclear Apocalypse.
As a senior citizen, I stood on the concrete porch and looked at the devastated landscape of the island of Leyte.
No Hollywood Cold War Nuclear Holocaust Movie even came close to Super Typhoon Yolanda.
The brutal sky remained angry swatches of gray. The horizontal canvas was saturated. The rain had stopped and the sky still appeared soaked. The sky around me dripped like running paint on a wet canvas.
The dense emerald vegetation was yanked, pulled and discarded like a giant weedeater had gone ballistic on the landscape.
The huge tree at the corner of the porch had been yanked up by the roots and dropped like a weed at the hole, which moments before had covered the roots.
The 50 to 75 coconut trees in front of the house were gone. Two complete trees stood and four giant busted toothpicks, which had been coconut trees were still embedded in the ground.
Some of the coconut trees had fallen like discarded Lincoln Logs on to the plundered landscape.
In rural Leyte it is rare for an hour to pass without a rooster crowing somewhere nearby.
Across the barangay road, the neighbor’s bamboo house was gone completely. Christy’s white sari-sari store building was tilted at a 15 degree angle toward the road.
The bamboo carport had served it’s purpose. The bamboo poles were still in the ground. The dried coconut leaves roof had gone airborne.
Fortunately, the carport had stood long enough to keep the van on the ground. The other benefit of the carport, is it helped provide temporary shelter.
When the neighbors across the road, felt their house was going around them, they ran outside to the carport and got next to the van, according to the neighbor woman, they essentially formed a human chain and she held on to the van’s door handle.
Today, I stand with a mug of coffee in my hand and look out at the Land in front of the house. Sunlight bathes the dense vegetation.
We have a tin roof again over the house. The US AID gray tarpaulin still serves as two walls of the house.
I strolled up the barangay road a distance this afternoon. Houses are again beginning to take shape. The rice fields seem to be recovering. The Cameri Barangay Elementary School has a roof again. Neighbors’ roosters chase hens in the school yard and a concrete building in the corner is going up in a corner of the school yard.
Son, Samuel Ranilo Warren got tagged to participate in a Yolanda Commemorative Ceremony in Tacloban City as did cousin,Vanissa Saldana. Daughter, Donna Junea Warren got to “Fly Free” to a girlfriend’s birthday celebration today.
Christy and I have been relaxing around the old Pacific Ponderosa today. One Warren Way got severely remodeled by Super Typhoon Yolanda, but with time, I am sure we will have walls again someday. I need to find a carpenter, I believe, can put my concrete hollow blocks up to build a “Strong” wall.
As a political science and history student, I had memorized the photos of the destruction of “Fat Man” and “Little Boy” to Hiroshima and Nagasaki, Japan in 1945. A year ago, Yolanda at “Ground Zero” in Tanauan, Barangay Baras delivered the “Destruction” without the radioactive “Fallout.”
November 8, 2014 — Tacloban City reports 6,000 people dead. Officials calculate, at least, 1,061 are still missing. I doubt an accurate “body count” for Super Typhoon Yolanda will ever be firmly established because a tidal wave came ashore and took structures and, no doubt, people back out to The Leyte Gulf and The Pacific Ocean.
The brutal winds of Yolanda took roofs and “bombed out” the insides of churches and smashed all the pews to smithereens. More than a week after Yolanda’s winds, I saw that Yolanda had parked a car and a Chevrolet pickup with the grilles against the ground. The trunk and pickup bed pointed up toward the sky, while the wheels rested on the side of a building.
Super Typhoon Yolanda, a year later, has reminded me of an Important Lesson Of Life: ”Live Life !”
I would emphasize : “Live Life With A Passion !”
Today is Saturday, November 8, 2014.
Tomorrow, at sun rise, my plan, is like the plan for today : “The sun is up. Time to make a cup of coffee and enjoy the day.”
by Samuel E. Warren Jr.
Johnny Leo Green, my cousin, was always a few years older than me. I spent most of my Life, “Hearing About”, rather, than having any time with my elusive older Texan cousin.
Around The Year 2000, I got a letter from Johnny telling me he had researched the Warren and Green family history. We exchanged some emails.
In 2011, I made “The Move” to Leyte, Republic of the Philippines. I didn’t figure the move would end email communications with my Texas relatives, after all, it is “The 21st Century” and the globe is “Wired” for “Global Communications” to the planet.
I was wrong.
There are places on Planet Earth where there is: No Broadband Signal, No Wifi Signal, and even an analog phone line, a Ham radio signal or a Morse Code key set is almost impossible to find.
There are places on Planet Earth in 2014 where “Electricity” is still more of an idea than a working reality. I have neighbors who use candles for light after dark or they simply go to bed early.
I had no idea that a barangay on the island of Leyte in the Republic of the Philippines would be a “Remote Location”; it can be.
Tanauan, Barangay Baras was “Remote” before Super Typhoon Yolanda, so the storm does not get the “Blame.”
In 2013, before Super Typhoon Yolanda, there were homes in Tanauan, Barangay Baras, which still did not have “electricity.” It was not uncommon to see a slender bamboo pole in the jungle propping up a power line. Nor, was it uncommon to see six to 10 electric meters on a wood or concrete pole.
Super Typhoon Yolanda only made the electricity and communications systems worse.
Yolanda tossed aside power poles like broken toothpicks or slung them out across the landscape. No doubt, some of the bamboo power poles are at the bottom of the Pacific Ocean.
It was five months to the day that Yolanda struck before the electric company , responsible for our barangay, restored our “electricity.”
Yolanda totally “eliminated” the broadband service in my barangay. She took my broadband sensor on the long pole and slung it away. I still have some of the long useless cable.
“Wifi — The Only Game In Town.”
Like many people the “quick solution” is Wifi. I haven’t found Wifi to be that stable. I don’t like Wifi. Nonetheless, for now, I’m still doing the “Wifi” game because, literally, it is “The Only Game In Town.”
To date, I have searched the Internet and haven’t found a way to “Reconnect” with Cousin Johnny Leo.
I continue “The Long Lost Cousin Search.”
I am an October Scorpio. Scorpio is a Fixed Sign of the Western Zodiac. As a general rule, the “Fixed Signs” like to stay in touch with their families and relatives around the world. Genealogy, heraldry, family history and family ties are all important to most “Scorpios.”
My birthday and Halloween always makes me reflective to remember family and friends. Super Typhoon Yolanda, last year, emphasized the point that it is not wise to loose touch with family and friends.
If anyone knows my cousin, who worked in Port Arthur, Texas for several years, please, ask him to contact me on my “Samuel Warren” facebook page.
Look for the man in the photo in the blue United States Air Force uniform with The American Flag in the background.
I’d love to “Reconnect” with my Warren Family History and with my relatives in Texas.
Who Did Islam Kill Today ?
by Samuel E. Warren Jr.
The sun is shining.
I light my cigarette, sip my coffee and press the power on button on my laptop. The Internet connection is working and my selected web browser is working.
I slip in front of the laptop and look at the numerous “News” websites. Pick one.
Stars and Stripes
New York Times.com
It does not matter, which one I select, because when it comes to shocking international news, all of the global news organizations have journalists in place or enroute to the scene.
I am retired United States Air Force.
My friend, Dave Schad was a Pacific Stars and Stripes reporter.
I love my stories about American and Allied women and men in uniform.
First, I’ll check on Uncle Sam to make sure, the United States Government is Okay.
After I catch up on the “Stripes” news, then, I can select another news organization to find out how quickly The World Is Coming Apart.
While my web browser loads the page, I lean back, take a drag of my cigarette and sip my steaming cup of coffee.
I blow a smoke ring up at the ceiling and wonder aloud :
“Who Did Islam Kill Today ?”
Life has two facts you can always count on: (1) The sun will rise. (2) Islam will have “Murdered” someone.
Question Number Two always has an element of flexibility. Sometimes the overworked Muslims of Islam have an “Off Day” and might only “Kill” one or two people to put in a body bag.
Usually, the Muslims Of Islam are at “The Top Of Their Game” and they are “Killing people as fast as they can reload their AK-47s”, or “clean the blood off their scimitars to continue to ‘behead’ people.”
The Muslims Of Islam are diligent “Killing Machines.”
The Global Fairy Tale is “Islam” is a “Religion.”
The Reality is “Islam is a global criminal, terrorists’ propaganda lifestyle, which “sacrifices” poor, uneducated Arabs to satisfy the never-ending sadistic, psychotic, blood-lust of elder Islam leaders and their young proteges of destruction, doom and “Death.”
Old Islam religious and political leaders love to see the blood in the streets. Young Islam terrorists revolutionaries are “Hooked” on the constant blood lust from their scimitars, automatic weapons and explosives.
Old Islam religious and political leaders realize as long as they keep the younger Islamist “busy”, the young terrorists will not notice the obvious.
The elder Islamic religious and political leaders still get to enjoy their personal wealth which comes from the profits of global oil revenue.
King Abdullah of The Kingdom Of Saudi Arabia is elderly with a bad back and numerous wives, children and he still relaxes in his palace and doesn’t have to worry because as a young man he placed the National Guard under his “Direct Command” and eventually managed to “Assume Command” of ALL Saudi Arabian Armed Forces.
King Abdullah is not worried about the ISIS or ISIL terrorist because he “Controls” the conservative Sunni religion in the kingdom and possibly around the world.
The king is “Wise” enough to be able to fund ISIS and ISIL without a digital or paper trail leading back to his front door. Even the young ISIS and ISIL terrorists are smart enough not to “bite the hand that feeds them.”
Without King Abdullah’s covert contributions flowing in their direction, the young ISIS and ISIL terrorists would have to “Budget Their Bullets” and find it difficult to fight small Wars and still hunt for food.
King Abdullah does not have to worry about anyone trying to “Poison” his food because he is only surrounded by his most trusted Muslim employees.
Young ISIS and ISIL will never see King Abdullah astride a horse with his scimitar raised gleeming in the sunlight and leading the charge down the sand dunes into hordes of Infidels.
The king is elderly. Warhorses don’t come with chairlifts. To date, 2014, no one has been lead into battle by someone rushing ahead on a walker.
It is hard to imagine King Abdullah on a motorized power scooter with his scimitar raised to lead soldiers and tanks down the sand dunes charging into invasion forces.
King Abdullah’s falconer days are behind him.
Iran’s Supreme Leader Ali Khameni will not lead Iranian ISIS or ISIL forces into battle. Khameni is elderly and is surrounded by his most trusted Islam employees.
Khameni does not want “The Youth Of Islam” to realize he is a “Coward.” Khameni had his radical, revolutionary years in support of Grand Ayatollah Khomeini. A bomb changed him from “Fighter” to “Fearful.” He lost his “Courage” and the use of an arm.
Khameni realized to live Life like the Grand Ayatollah Khomeini, he had to leave the battlefield and let “Young Men” die in his “Wars For Islam.” He supports the Global Islamic ISIS and ISIL War effort by covert funding from Tehran.
Khameni is a Shiite Muslim. He does not have the financial resources to fight a sustained War against Saudi Arabia unless his ISIS and ISIL forces can gain complete “Control Of Iraq”, which would increase his oil profits.
The naive “Young Terrorists Of ISIS and ISIL” are being “Used” and “Wasted” by the Older Leaders Of Islam and they haven’t figured it out.
The Emir Of Qatar is not going to stand on top of a tank, raise his scimitar and lead forces into battle. The emir is overweight and aging toward Senior Citizen status. Thus, his “War Support” comes down to covert funding and eagerness to help ISIS and ISIL receive their weapons of War.
The naive fighters of ISIS and ISIL have, yet, to realize that their Middle East Islamic Leaders are not interested in “The Spread Of Islam”, but, in their “Own Personal Greed.”
The Old Islam Leaders sit back and smile. They watch the Younger ISIS and ISIL terrorists fighting, killing and dying against their Muslim neighbors.
Once the ISIS and ISIL forces take control, sometimes they “Behead” their captured Muslim commanders. None of the ISIS or ISIL commanders are smart enough to include the captured Muslim forces in their commands to fight with them and increase the size of their army into larger numbered armies, which could be deployed into other regions of the Middle East to conquer and take control.
Instead the Younger ISIS and ISIL forces are fighting, killing and dying, so once they have created enough Islamic States and Caliphates, then, Saudi Arabia or Iran will present them with the “Bill For War Supplies.”
If the Younger ISIS or ISIL Conqueror can’t “Pay Up”, then, the Kingdom of Saudi Arabia or Iran simply “Seizes The Assets” and all of the ISIS and ISIL tanks, aircraft, ships, women, munitions, explosives, slaves — all the wealth, then, becomes “The Property Of Saudi Arabia”, “The Property Of Iran”, or “The Property Of Qatar.”
The Younger ISIS or ISIL Conqueror will go from prince to pauper.
Saudi, Iran and Qatar will have stable, immense, well-rested military forces to move against a Younger ISIS or ISIL Conqueror, whose forces will be fragmented, battle-hardened, but War-weary.
In a matter of hours or weeks, Saudi, Iran or Qatar could vanquish the ISIS or ISIL Conqueror by mobilization of their forces and by an agreement that Hamas, Hezbollah, al-Qaida, the Taliban and Boko Haram forces would fight alongside their militaries.
ISIS and ISIL would be outmanned and outgunned and the Younger ISIS and ISIL Conqueror would find himself a prisoner of Saudi Arabia, Iran or Qatar awaiting his scheduled public execution.
Islam Loves To Kill.
The Question is Never: Did Islam Kill Anyone Today ?
The Question always comes down to : “How Many People Did Islam Kill Today Worldwide ?
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