Friday the 13th with a Full Harvest Moon is the perfect time to blog nonsense.

I believe next to nothing. However, I am open-minded enough to consider ANY possibility to establish its probability.

I have looked lizard people square in their dead eyes. They don’t like that. They know you know, and they would prefer no one knows of there existence; particularly people who might out them, like me.

Are they human?

They are born in human form and have a human lifespan, but they are devoid of many of our better “human” qualities. When examined solely with medical diagnostic technologies, they appear quite human, complete with susceptibility to injury and disease, just like us.

How do they differ from real humans?

If you believe in such things, you would describe them as soulless: only able to feign caring, compassion, love, sympathy, and empathy while being completely baffled by human traits like: giving, gratitude, and self-sacrifice. In their view, they believe themselves superior because they lack these human burdens plaguing the rest of us. While we lose much time being fully human dealing with all these feelings, they can maintain focus on their goals, achieving above average success.

Where do you find them?

They were created for the patriarchy’s economic machine. They are the administrators, evaluators, and the judges who, if their track record proves them to be free of morality, scrupulousness, and ethical constraints, will rise to the level of policy-maker occupying a chair in a board room somewhere around the globe.

What do they do?

Yeah, I admit that last one has tin hat time written all over it until you ask the question:

Why is the World Bank interested in birth registration?

How does it profit them?

They are not known for altruism, despite what their propaganda machine’s press releases might want you to believe. Here is a sample from the link above:

“The international development community is increasingly recognizing the multifold advantages of expanding birth registration coverage. When the Sustainable Development Goals (SDGs) were adopted last year, they introduced a new agenda for the field of development and birth registration for all became a specific development target. What is more, the World Bank went on to argue that “providing robust means of identification,” such as birth certificates, “will fundamentally support the achievement of at least 10 other SDGs,” in areas such as social protection, women’s empowerment, health, and even fighting terrorism.”

The international development community, huh. I’d be very interested to see who is on this list.

Sustainable Development Goals, huh. This is my question:

Sustaining the development of what for whom?

Before we encourage our children to join the so-called honourable professional ranks listed above, perhaps we should rethink the alter we’ve been worshipping.

 

Five Long Years

The fall of Western civilization can be charted by the declining number of book readers.

Yesterday was National Book Lovers Day, and on social media it came in like a lamb and went out with a whimper. On twitter, it never made Trending status in the many hours I was on which says a great deal about where everyone’s heads are these days. As expected, facebook and the mainstream media ignored it completely. Why? The answer is a simple one.

Readers a.k.a. thinking people, are dangerous to the rising regime.

“Book Lovers Day is celebrated on August 9 every year. This is an unofficial holiday observed to encourage bibliophiles celebrate reading and literature. People are advised to put away their smartphones and every possible technological distraction and pick up a book to read.” Wikipedia

I did my bit by contributing a half dozen tweets which were repeated on my facebook page that, not surprisingly, ranged from serious to amusing. Most saw no engagement. Yes some genuine book lovers tweeted, as well as some booksellers, but this was an opportunity missed by almost every author, publisher, educator, and library I know and about a million others I don’t.

We all talk a good game when discussing the importance of reading in America, but when it comes to actively doing something collectively about the problem, we fall flat.

Changing how we parent, educate, treat the environment, allow ourselves to be governed. . . all have become political, and this is why intelligent people no longer participate in these discussions. The prevailing rampant stupidity in politics has silenced the majority who need to speak out and be heard.

I thought book people would be different.

I know many are introverted. I also know they are smart. Why is it they do not realize their apathy endangers their beloved books. Here’s how the world works, kids:

If you are not fighting for it, they will take it away.

 

Rated R: Sex, Academic Lies, and Video Tape

What is manly?

Is wrestling manly? I probably couldn’t wrestle my way out of a drunken all female Mazola party these days, but that may be more due to a lack of desire than capability. To avoid any more middle-aged sex related injuries, which are embarrassing to explain to your doctor, I now spend much more time wrestling with ideas and questions. They are much safer, even though Doc thoroughly enjoys hearing of my exploits . . . perhaps a little too much, now that I think about it.

Some of what goes on in my cerebrum is farcical while other thoughts are incredibly deep for a male—or so I’ve been told. To better illustrate how man-brains work, for our female readers, I will let you peer in to see what is rolling around in here in these next sentences. Could a female friend pin me in a bare knuckle match without the benefit of any lube to help me escape? Would I want to escape? Would I throw the match and submit? Does this make me submissive? Can a submissive man still be manly? If she won fair and square, without resorting to tickling, would she be considered manly? Would her conquest relegate all six-foot-three two hundred pounds of me to the effeminate loser list? Why are there winners and losers? Who thought that up? Who are the beneficiaries, and who or what suffers in a social construct such as this?

I tend to look at most things as systems.

Ecosystems show us how all things are connected and how there is intelligent design behind them which endlessly strive to maintain a healthy balance.

Each life form follows a program. We call this nature and natural.

I look at humans in much the same way, but we are different. We have the power of choice and yet we seem to endlessly choose poorly. Why is this? What if our program has been, and continues to be, tampered with? In my book I put forth the idea The Princess Program has been responsible for holding women back from reaching their full potential for generations.

I now see the Princess Program as more of a subroutine to a larger Patriarchy Program where, at some point in history, men discovered TAKING WAS EASIER THAN MAKING.

Thus began our long string of bloody conquests which continue to this day. Has patriarchy always been with us? If you were to rely purely on the mainstream Western history we are taught in school you might think so. “They” tell us about “recorded history” which currently sits at about 5500 years with a focus on empires rather than civilizations which shift from Egypt, to Greece, to Rome. “Coincidentally”, the first written records of religious practice date to almost the same time: circa 3500 BCE in Sumer, but no historian can say how long Mesopotamia had religion before that. Regardless, all significant religions would be male dominated from 3150 BCE forward. I call all of this “patriarchy approved history” because academia discredits, downplays, ignores, suppresses, and will not fund research into early civilizations which may have done things differently.

Publishing anything in academic circles about a more balanced, harmonious, democratic, and sustainable way of living is not encouraged.

You and your children probably never heard anything in history class about African matriarchies dating back to 8000 BCE, nor are future generations likely to. The countries that could have shown us a better way have been completely conquered or destabilized by Western “interests” . . . destroying their cultures and much of their histories in the process. Prior to my rewrite of this section, I had compiled a list of what could be construed as signs of matriarchy throughout history, but it occurred to me that:

FEMALE RULE DOES NOT A MATRIARCHY MAKE.

So I scrapped it. There was hierarchy, militarism, and taxation systems evident in each, and these are the signs of patriarchy. The patriarchy loves pharaonic Egypt where one man was worshipped as a god. This became the touchstone.

It is a construct.

Patriarchy gave us aggressive autocracy, a class system, and the near total subjugation of women. What happens when a patriarchal society can no longer expand its borders and wealth through conquest? It turns inward on itself to exploit its own citizens and lands.

The patriarchy can never have enough.

It over-taxes, it makes cuts to education, it cuts social programs, it gouges for medicines, it suppresses reliable news sources and replaces them with propagandists, and it buys politicians and lawmakers as tools of the trade.

I now see racism, patriotism, sexism, political divide, corruption, inequality, a military industrial complex, the entertainment industry, higher education, the Internet, security agencies, and the porn industry as being functionaries of an unnatural and long-standing Patriarchy Program.

Now back to our regularly scheduled program.

Question: When is a blow job no longer just a blowie?

Answer: When it is degrading the blower.

I have been studying human relationships for nearly as long as I’ve been alive. Lately this, ahem, purely intellectual pursuit has led me to study the world of porn. My indoctrination into the objectifying sexist world of the patriarchy began at age twelve when a friend across the street discovered a stash of his father’s old Playboy magazines hidden deep in a crawlspace.

Each of us who were invited to take a look, stuffed a few magazines down our pants which helped a short time later to cover our erections as we walked hurriedly passed our moms to our rooms for about one minute of auto-erotic fun before finding a safe hiding spot for our new loves. Yes, we developed and talked about our attachments to our paper fantasy women. I would talk about how my girl Brandi loved to swim naked, and my friend would say how his Cindy-Jo likes to roll around in the barn wearing only cut-off shorts and suspenders.

A couple of years later, our supplier’s dad upgraded to Penthouse which was showing vagina so most of the neighbourhood boys switched as well. By the time Larry Flint hit the scene with Hustler, I had a regular supply of real vagina life support systems, a.k.a girlfriends, so I left porn mostly behind. The previous sentence shows how my objectification indoctrination into the patriarchy had taken hold at an early age. My view at the time was girls were in possession of boobs and vaginae and I really liked and wanted these things. A pretty face ranked third on my list of wants, and there was no thought whatsoever given to their minds. On the odd occasion when I had an opportunity to peek into Hustler, I remember not fully comprehending why any guy would want to look at these “hard core” women who weren’t nearly as pretty as the girls in Playboy or Penthouse.

Who wants a skanky slut who’s seen more dick ends than weekends?

Things have changed, and not for the better, but fortunately so have I. Did you know 90% of boys and 60% of girls are exposed to Internet porn by age 18? Do you also realize the extent to which the hard core porn industry dominates Internet browsers? I am a fan of Fine Art Nude Photography, but it is next to impossible to find photographers like Radoslaw Pujan through Bing or Google image searches because of the SEO strategies employed by the porn industry.

It’s as though they want to put the ugliest most degrading imagery of women in front of every casual passerby, and tragically, this includes our youth.

This does however explain all the submissive cum-dumpsters worshipping at the alter of cock we see everywhere these days.

This is not sex forward feminism. This is an abomination of that idea.

Trend following behaviours are indicators of a pliable psyche which is susceptible to mental conditioning.

I believe this to be the ultimate goal of today’s patriarchs which is best illustrated by young people who claim their sexual explorations, tattoos, piercings, and silver coloured hair are signs of their individuality. If you didn’t do it first, you are just proudly telling the world how easily you are led, how desperate you are to fit in, and how oblivious you are to being manipulated. These are badges of conformity-not independence -an acknowledgement of your submission to The Patriarchy Program.

The patriarchy really knows what it’s doing.

Can you say the same?

We are all indoctrinated into this system before we are wise enough to question it. If you want to break your chains or ensure your children do not succumb to these many forms of psychological programming, just teach them to never stop asking the question three-year-olds love to ask:

Why?

A questioning mind is a gift which will lead them to awareness and conscience. People so equipped can navigate life making fewer poor decisions which ultimately frees them from the unhappiness plaguing most of humanity. These true individuals can beat back the patriarchs merely by not playing along, and they will be needed in greater numbers than ever before in the next two generations. We have reached the tipping point.

Any “us and them” divide which blinds people with hate and rage is another victory for the patriarchs in their covert war on humanity.

Don’t be a joiner.

Saying no is the true mark of individuality and freedom of thought.

I’m no Chad!

pexels-photo-896058.jpeg

Just as with the Trumpeter winning the US presidency, an attack in my hometown of Toronto required me to take some time to process my thoughts before I would weigh in on this latest example of extremism. Thankfully, there is no religious indoctrination associated with this incident which killed ten and injured thirteen. I have flogged that dead horse enough over the years anyway. No, this one is truly “new”, and would require some research on my part. By “new”, I mean a new take on a 5000 year old idea; men should rule and be the masters of all that is in their domain. What I found bothers me more than Trump and his bandits. So let’s take a look at the latest scourge reaped by our downward spiral in parenting and education.

misogyny – a hatred of women

How to make a misogynist:

  1. Uncaring; absent; ignorant; abusive; immoral; non-supportive parent(s).
  2. Early indoctrination into an organization or society where women are not equal to men.
  3. Early objectification of women through video games and pornography.
  4. Inadequate sex and relationship education.
  5. Unguided teen years.
  6. Exposure to the sex trade.

pexels-photo-267188.jpeg

In my book I toyed with misogyny while exploring my emotional damage from past relationships and coming to terms with how I feel about women, North American culture, and humanity as a whole. It started as a humorous idiot’s guide to manhood for my nephews, but it became something else . . . a complete instruction manual for life as a decent human. Sadly, I did not know how few men read such books when I wrote it. They are conditioned to appear as though they have it all figured out-causing most to actually believe they do. North American culture is of course an oxymoron as few of its citizens are cultured by definition.

cultured – having or showing good education, tastes, and manners

I will not give the perpetrator of the attack any mention other than to say it is doubtful he is sane. When something horrific happens close to home people want to know why and it is here where things become dark, murky, and disturbing. There are known to be approximately 40,000 others like him out there who share similar beliefs. They call themselves Incels.

Incel – a person who thinks of themself as being involuntarily celibate

When trying to imagine the membership of this group, one would naturally think of unfortunate individuals with deformities or who were disfigured in some way; thereby limiting their chances of attracting a romantic partner. However, this does not appear to be the case.

Misogyny + Entitlement + Dehumanization = Incel Extremist

The following excerpt is from an article by By Rebecca Jennings published on Racked.com which gives you a sense of what they are about.

Incels see women as either “Stacys,” who are hyperfeminine, attractive, and unattainable and who only date “Chads” (muscular, popular men who are presumed to sleep with lots of women), or “Beckys,” the “average” woman. Women in general are also referred to in dehumanizing terms such as “femoids” or “FHOs (Female Humanoid Organism).”

https://www.racked.com/2018/4/28/17290256/incel-chad-stacy-becky

Allegedly, these are nerds, geeks, dorks, dweebs etc. who have been publicly shamed and bullied to such an extent they are now stigmatized, leaving them socially awkward and incapable of engaging effectively with women they desire. They apparently use math to support their contention they only have a shot with the castoffs of the Chads. They think this is wrong and unfair.

I smell rationalization and I call BULLSHIT!

These morons have not earned the right to call themselves nerds.

pexels-photo-247899.jpegNerds, geeks, dorks, and dweebs are typically smart. Smart people know how to research to find a course of action which solves a problem. I have been called a nerd and a geek, mostly because I read and spend time in libraries, but it was time well spent. I did the work. I LEARNED. I understand women, human behavior, and our society which makes me very interesting to a Stacy who is tired of Chad’s shit. The more you learn, the more aware you become which leads to personal growth and change

These guys have LEARNED NOTHING!

They were ill-prepared for life. Sadly, they have formed an online group where they denigrate what they want the most-women. It is a support group gone wrong.

I object to them believing themselves to be nerds. A nerd is far more than a sci-fi enthusiast, gamer or comic book collector. These guys are pretenders; and just as their feeble minds did with women, they missed yet another point entirely.

Here is why an Incel can’t get laid:

THEY do not know how to stimulate a woman’s erogenous center.
THEY do not know where that is.
THEY do not care and are too lazy to find out.
THEY equate real women with their rubber porn star vagina sex toy.
THEY think women are just a collection of holes for their pleasure.
THEY do not respect women because they were never taught this.
THEY believe women won’t pick up on their misogynistic vibe.
THEY think they are superior to women.
THEY believe they should be entitled to any woman they wish.

I have news for you Mr. Rapey von Dick-Picker, it’s YOU not them.

Not getting sex is just nature’s way of saying you are not worthy and your genetic line stops here.

pexels-photo-48566.jpeg

I do pity them though. It’s not all their fault. Poor genetics, bad parenting, a low quality education, and unresolved emotional scars all combined to make them what they are.

At best, Incels are throwing the world’s biggest pity party and of course none of it is their fault. They are not happy with natural selection, nor are they willing to improve themselves in order to get in the game. Essentially, they are damaged and lazy with entitlement issues. In the worst cases, as with the Toronto incident, dangerous sociopaths are in their midst being primed for action.

Of Squirrels and Airplanes

It’s been a long, long, long time since I have had a day like this-literally years since I published a slightly impaired blog titled: An Intoxicated Tirade, or words to that effect. A conscientious blogger would create a link, but I don’t care.

Life as a struggling author is tough, and full of duties and obligations. Today was different though; I fulfilled all those daily tasks by 2:00 p.m. on a sunny and warm Sunday afternoon which allowed me a shopping trip including a visit to the liquor store.

1

It should be noted that I mark the return of warm weather with a cocktail we Canadians call a Caesar-made from tomato/clam cocktail, vodka, and spices, including salt, pepper, celery salt, Worchestershire sauce (Did you seriously expect me to spell it right?) and Tobasco sauce. (Ditto.)

I spent TWO magical hours alone with my thoughts (and the booze) in direct sunlight which has always been my drug of choice when I needed to re-energize and refocus. There was a part of me who screamed I should have a book with me or what will the neighbors think? F*ck ’em.

ancient-arched-window-architecture-532902I moved to this neighborhood to be amongst the poor and down-trodden. Granted, houses in this area sell between one and two million dollars, but that does not mean the people here are rich; they just have good credit. As property values have gone from ridiculous to insane while I have been here, it led me to think about the retirees on a fixed income being displaced because they could not keep up with their property taxes as their property’s value exploded, forcing many to take out equity loans just to keep their homes.

After the second drink, I noticed a deep exhalation that I am certain has not been a part of my existence for some time. Some people meditate to accomplish this state-of-being, but I have not been making the time for any spiritual journeys of this nature lately. I am just too damn busy.

adorable-animal-brown-356547

So, about the squirrels . . . Ever notice the squirrel who is busting his (or her) ass (Who can tell?); digging up chestnuts and running across a busy street to bring home the bacon? He/she is unlike the other squirrels who have trained humans to feed them, and who unknowingly have become reliant on their trainees. I respect the hustler’s choice. I hope he/she doesn’t get squished by one of the vehicles travelling much too fast in our school zone.

It occurred to me upon sipping my third drink, I could really use more days like this. This prompted a revised want ad stolen from my book.

animal-close-up-cute-71328

WANTED: A good woman.

  • This old dog is tired and in need of a porch to sleep on.
  • Please send photo of your porch.
  • Applicants with a wrap-around-porch will automatically advance to the next round.
  • A porch swing will score bonus points.
  • If you have both a wrap-around-porch and a boat, you are gold. Please send photo of the boat as well.
  • If your porch overlooks a unicorn ranch, it is important you include this information.

Dinner Update: One part is burnt, and one part is still frozen. Balance is key.

aerobatics-aeroplane-air-672664

On to the airplanes-you can’t help but notice them while you are positioned to be face-first into the setting sun in the West, which coincidentally, is also where our airports are, relative to where I live. There are fast-movers, a.k.a. military stuff, at serious altitudes leaving twin contrails. Those are our F-18s. I did however see a fast-mover with a single contrail; I hope we didn’t buy one of those piece of sh*t single engine F-35s.

FYI: The texture of my chicken patties can be best equated with cutting cardboard with your standard cutlery. And again, I don’t care. Two hours of direct sunlight and four cocktails will do that to a person.

My man-bun-daddy neighbor with way too many health issues for his age and I just talked about using some of our more useless neighbors as food when the apocalypse comes. I suggested a barbecue sauce.

adult-beard-beggar-256621

What are the passers-by thinking as they acknowledge my smile, nod, or wave as I sit in my lawn chair basking in the sun? Are they jealous of my leisure time inactivity, or do they think I am hurting property values in the neighborhood? At the moment, I can confidently state I don’t give a flying f*ck about what others think.

One neighbor who regularly parks her car in front of my house chatted about her court day with our street’s bandit parking cop, and how she was kayaking on a river today. She does lead an interesting life.

autumn-beautiful-blur-658945I chatted briefly with my hot neighbor about how confusing this time of year was for her when it came to choosing what to wear. She was in sandals and a sweater coat. I suggested she remove the coat.

I saw some kids playing road hockey while armed with squirt guns. I guess I didn’t get that memo.

Birds chirping; the sounds of motorcycles and children at play; and the guy with saws. Dude, give it a f*cking rest already.

I thought up a killer book idea, but I’ve thought that before . . .

Much can happen in two hours if you go outside to figuratively stop and smell the flowers.

I admit I have been neglecting this blog, but sh*t happens. My Ms. Creant site blog has kept me busy with a ten-ish part series on the book publishing game. If you are a soon-to-be-published author not picked up by the big 5, you would be well-advised to tune in.

It’s now 10:30 p.m. and my nightcap is almost gone.

Ever notice how I only use contractions when I’m drinking?

Talk soon.

Radical Christian extremists are active in my neighborhood—A Christmas Story

I just witnessed an act of Christian terrorism on my street.

While many of us were erecting ladders to put up Christmas lights, others had even more politically incorrect intentions.

A woman with her three girls from a few doors down, just skulked passed my house carrying a large standup carboard cutout of Jesus which they covertly placed in front of another neighbor’s house, a few doors up the street from where I live. I am guessing this mom is an artist, and the girls all participated in this craft project. I do not know either of these neighbors, but I grinned as the perpetrators ran by in a full retreat. A short while later, the terrorist leader mom walked by again to take a picture of their evil-doings; presumably to be used in a propaganda victory speech which would undoubtedly be posted on their radical facebook page tagging the victims. As she returned from her photo recon bomb damage assessment mission, she commented to me, rather matter of factly, “He hates religion.”, to which I replied, “Oh my.”, still wearing my amused grin but laughing hysterically on the inside as this woman had no idea who she was talking to. To me, this Sunday was quickly becoming more entertaining than any of the ones spent in the hundreds of Houses of Worship I have visited in my travels. It would not take long before a woman, who I presume is the wife of the aforementioned “He”, would walk by looking a little embarrassed as she carryied the big Jesus back to the terrorist’s encampment. I suspect this was just a good-natured prank among neighbors as big Jesus was leaned carefully against a tree in the yard of the terrorist’s command and control bunker, and no hostile words were uttered or shots fired as she departed.

This is how battles of religious ideologies should be waged.

We must now look at the victim of this atrocity who was targeted by these extremists because “He” believes differently. “He”, who apparently “hates religion”, could be an atheist, and if this is the case, we should be respectful of his choice of belief system. But what if “He” is not an atheist? What if “He” is like me? What if “He” has come to despise most religions as I have, because they have corrupted the messages of God and their various prophets in order to amass wealth and power—often promoting division, hate, the subjugation of women, and even violence. Am I next? How long before I can expect big Jesus in my garden? I  think it’s time to pick a religion just to be on the safe side.

So. let’s see what comes up when I google: What religion should I follow? Oh look, Belief-O-Match; they should be able to tell me. After taking their quiz, they decided I am a Seventh-day Adventist? I don’t know this one. Let’s find out what they are all about.

https://www.thegospelcoalition.org/article/9-things-you-should-know-about-seventh-day-adventism/

Oh, I don’t think so.

Not even close. So much for Belief-O-Magic.

Back to the drawing board. I will eliminate all religions with significant wealth that don’t spend most of it to feed starving children. Let’s see what google has to say.

https://www.therichest.com/rich-list/world/the-10-richest-religions-in-the-world/

Well that really shortens the list of possibilities.

Let’s try googling the most charitable religions. It is interesting that this search netted little of substance; just a few articles about do-gooders, putting Muslims, Agnostics, and Buddhists well in the lead. You would think that some of the other major religions would step up and single-handedly save a famished nation just for the bragging rights, but none do or have.

Although I could probably squeeze my beliefs into the Agnostic box, as a historian, I feel as though I should be able to find something—and I did—but unfortunately it is in decline with just 190,000 followers left. Maybe it is not about the popularity.

Zoroastrianism worships a single deity: Ahura, The Lord Creator, and The Supremely Wise. This religion predates most all of the best known prophets with its roots going back to 2000 BCE. (I like that.) It has no major theological divisions. (I like that.) In Zoroastrianism, the purpose in life is to: “Be among those who renew the world; to make the world progress towards perfection”. (I like that.)

Its basic maxims include:

  • “Humata, Hukhta, Huvarshta,” which means: Good Thoughts, Good Words, Good Deeds. (I like it.)
  • “There is only one path and that is the path of Truth.” (I like it.)
  • “Do the right thing because it is the right thing to do, and then all beneficial rewards will come to you also.” (I like it.)

I am now a religious man, safe from big Jesus.

I am a Zoroastrianist . . . I think.

I have much reading to do, and perhaps I should check my terminologies while I am at it, before telling everyone. Once I have confirmed that Zoroastrianist is actually a word, I’m going to go tell the neighbor up the street—maybe he is one too, and just doesn’t know it yet.

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Zoroastrianism

 

This is it for a while.

To everyone, regardless of your philosophies, faiths, beliefs, and indoctrinations, I hope you all enjoy a safe and happy Holiday Season.

Humata, Hukhta, Huvarshta.

I like it.

😀

My BIGFOOT Encounters: Three Spooky Tales For Camping Out

Fear not parents or camp counselors , the myth is dispelled at the end so they will go to sleep.

Stories of huge hairy bad smelling apelike creatures are told all over the world in remote areas. In North America, we mostly call them Bigfoot, or Sasquatch as they are known to some ancient native peoples. In snowy mountain ranges as far away as Tibet, they are called Yeti or Abominable Snowmen.

These creatures are always eight to ten feet tall, super strong, known for throwing rocks, and are capable of driving humans out of their territory—even humans with guns, it is said. Apparently they have a nasty pungent odour, and make high pitched blood-curdling screams certain to make your blood run cold.

There must be some truth to these stories or else why would grownups keep talking about them for hundreds or even thousands of years?

Living in Central or Northern Ontario in Canada, means you live among the local wildlife. You get used to birds waking at dawn; the fish feeding on the glassy lake leaving little dorsal fin waves, as well as those creating a surface splash and the ever expanding rings in the calm water to mark their location.

The crack of dawn is most likely your last chance to see larger animals as they go into hiding deep in the woods as man gets busy with his day. Around here, deer, foxes, rabbits, and even moose are commonly seen at this time of the morning.

During the day—not in tourist season—the lake is a playground for aquatic mammals like otters, mink, and weasels; water foul like ducks, geese, and loons, as well as reptiles like frogs and snakes.

But at night, BIG DANGEROUS THINGS are on the prowl. ‘Lions, and tigers, and bears, oh my.’ . . .  well lynx, and bobcats, and bears at least, with the unproven claims of cougars. Wolves and coyotes should not be forgotten either; nor should potential attackers from above like bats and owls that feed mostly at night. NIGHT-TIME IS WHEN HUMANS SHOULD BE INSIDE. WANDERING OFF ALONE AT NIGHT IS NEVER A GOOD IDEA.

On weekends, from May to October, the number of humans in the area can swell by a multiplication factor of ten or more. Where there are many humans, there is little wildlife, so you are safer, but never totally safe. YOU MUST BE CAUTIOUS;  ALWAYS AWARE OF YOUR SURROUNDINGS; especially when you are camping out in the wilderness and NIGHT COMES.

If you go deep into the forest, or are here after tourist season, you can have unexplained encounters with wildlife or something FAR WORSE, and they usually happen when you are ALONE IN THE DARKNESS.

Last night I had my third Bigfoot encounter and this was a close one; just fifty feet or fifteen metres away.

It was 9:30 at night and THE AIR WAS DEADLY STILL; meaning there was no wind to stop me from hearing everything. I live up here year-round so I am used to most of the sounds of the wilderness. There was a clear sky with a half-moon casting DARK SHADOWS EVERYWHERE.

SUDDENLY, in the blackness, I heard a loud KER-PLOOSH, and a splash like the sound of giant boulders being thrown into the lake in front of me. I WAS FROZEN WITH FEAR. The hairs on the back of my neck stood up because THIS HAD HAPPENED TO ME BEFORE.

My first thought was it could be a bear going after a fish. But only seconds later it happened again. The sound of these huge boulders hitting the water told me no human or bear could lift them and be throwing them into the lake so fast and so far. This was obviously A HUGE INTELLIGENT CREATURE that did not want me around.

It was time to HIDE INSIDE until whatever it was went away or CAME TO GET ME. I was lucky this time as it decided to go away. I survived the night to tell this tale.

As mentioned, this was not the first time I had encroached on the territory of a BIGFOOT.

A few years ago, I went fishing in the evening on a little secluded lake without any cottages on it. The fishing was good so I did not want to leave, EVEN THOUGH IT WAS GETTING DARK. I built a big campfire at the edge of the lake so I could see better, and the fire is said to keep wildlife from coming too close.

I was concerned about bears being attracted to the fish I had caught and eaten. I did not have a toothbrush with me, and I had heard stories of people being attacked by bears because THEY HAD NOT BRUSHED THEIR TEETH. It is said the bears could smell their breath.

It was a moonless night. I could not even see my car parked just a few steps away. Everything became very quiet as though something had scared the birds and frogs into hiding. It was TOO QUIET; EERILY QUIET.

In the BLACKNESS, just past where my fishing line disappeared into nothingness, I heard something HUGE hit the water with a loud KER-PLOOSH! Although it did not splash me, it sounded very close. I was the only human for miles around, and it seemed like something was throwing giant boulders almost all the way across the lake . . . and this thing, whatever it was, did not seem to be afraid of fire.

I told myself to calm down because a really big fish could have charged out of the water to try and catch a low flying bat or dragonfly which could cause such a sound when it landed back in the water.

But then it happened again. Now I was SCARED. I did not want to fish anymore. I reeled in as fast as I could, picked up the fish I had caught, and ran for the car. The boulders were landing every few seconds now, SO THERE HAD TO BE MORE THAN ONE CREATURE throwing them. Whatever it was, it could have the container of bait I left behind on the beach.

After frantically trying to find the door-handle, I quickly threw all my stuff, including the fish, inside the car; then I got in and closed the door as fast as I could. There was no time to put things away in the trunk. It was then I had a thought: If these THINGS could throw giant boulders across a lake, then they could destroy a car if they attacked with smaller boulders that would fly farther.

There was a big problem. I couldn’t just leave and speed away. I HAD NOT PUT MY CAMPFIRE OUT. I would have to go BACK OUT THERE.

I searched the car’s glove box for a flashlight and turned it on, only to see a dim light because the batteries were weak. It would have to do. A dim flashlight is better than NO FLASHLIGHT. I got out of the car, shining the flashlight around at all the nearby trees, but it was too weak to light up the area. I quickly retrieved a bucket from the trunk intended to transport the fish now lying on the passenger floor of my car. Nervously, I proceeded to make my way back down to the water’s edge, and BACK INTO RANGE OF THE BOULDER-THROWING CREATURES.

It was quiet again; too quiet; DEAD QUIET.

Just as I had completely doused the fire, THE NEXT ATTACK COMMENCED, but now the splashes sounded even closer than before, and I was SPLASHED as the boulders continued to land in the water. Whatever it was, it had moved in closer, now the fire was out. I ran for the car and tripped on a tree-root dropping the flash-light. IT WENT OUT!

IN TOTAL BLACKNESS, I had to feel my way ahead; back to the relative safety of the car. If I wandered off the road into the wilderness, I could be LOST FOREVER. I expected to feel a giant fur-covered CREATURE in front of me blocking my path, but instead I banged my knee on the bumper of the car. I felt my way along the side of the car and found the door-handle. I quickly got in and drove away; never to return to that lake again AT NIGHT. I survived to tell this tale.

My very first encounter with a BIGFOOT was the most TERRIFYING of all.

I had just moved from the city into a friend’s cabin while waiting to get a place of my own. His cabin was on a lake without any neighbors. It was a long drive on a winding dirt road just to get to a highway, and longer still to find people if YOU WERE IN TROUBLE.

I was getting used to living like people did in the 1800’s. I carried in wood for the fire. I brought water in from the lake for washing, and I was catching fish for dinner right off the dock.

The dock is where this terrifying story took place. Bigfoot would not be throwing boulders from across a lake as in the previous two stories. No, this time he would be RIGHT BEHIND ME; waiting for me on the beach while I was TRAPPED ON THE DOCK.

As the sun set, the fishing from the dock was really good; I was catching a fish with almost every cast. It quickly became DARK AND FOGGY; a dense soupy fog had rolled in but the fish were still biting. I was having fun SO I STAYED OUT LONGER THAN I SHOULD HAVE. That was my mistake.

Because the fog was so thick and close, I could not even see the shore behind me. I might as well have been adrift on a raft in the fog. That is what it felt like. Later, I would wish I was afloat on a raft, and not near shore.

My first WARNING SIGN was the sound of crashing trees up in the hills behind the cabin. I thought it was probably a moose, and kept on fishing. My second WARNING SIGN was the sound of a large animal exhaling and then it made a snorting sound. I was convinced it was a moose or maybe a bear so I stayed quiet hoping it would wander off. My third warning SCARED ME TO DEATH. It was a blood-curdling scream followed by a high pitched YIKE, YIKE, YIKE; which sounded like it came from the cabin.

So there I was, with whatever it was, between me and the safety of the cabin. I was TRAPPED ON THE DOCK with nowhere to go except into the cold lake. I knew I would not last long in the frigid waters of spring WITHOUT A LIFEJACKET—a lifejacket I never thought I’d need.

I had a flash-light in my tackle box which I thought might warn off this CREATURE if it continued to come after me. In the dense fog, the flash-light beam came to a stop about six feet or two metres away. I worked my way slowly down the dock, hearing every creak of the old boards with each step. I WAS STOPPED DEAD IN MY TRACKS after only a few steps by an awful smell. It was like the smell of honey but not so sweet or nice. It was a sickly-sweet smell which seemed to be all around me, just hanging in the fog. THEN THE WORST HAPPENED. The dock boards nearest the shore started to creak with me standing still. IT WAS COMING FOR ME!

I did the only thing I could think of. I tried to communicate with the creature by screaming as loud as I could and following it with YIKE, YIKE, YIKE. Before too long, the smell went away. I CAREFULLY made my way back to the cabin and safety. I guess I had said the right thing in its own language. He, she, or it never returned. I survived to tell this tale.

Myths and legends are merely enthralling stories people keep telling through the ages.

Being scared can be fun because it’s exciting. A good story lets our imaginations go to work to make you feel like you are in the story . . . and sometimes a scary story can get the better of us causing our imaginations to runs wild. This is why reading is so much fun. Stories help you use your imagination to entertain yourself. When we encounter something new that we do not understand, we are naturally a little afraid of it. Even grown-ups do this. When it is dark, we can no longer see so we pay more attention to what we hear. Everything seems louder, bigger and closer. It goes back to the time of cave-dwelling humans when there really were giant creatures trying to get them. Those early people learned when to fight, and when to run and hide. This instinct is still with us to this day.

Now here is how stories can be made to scare us:

  • You were told the writer had encountered a Bigfoot in the title but did he? He HEARD things, SMELLED something, and even was SPLASHED by something, but did he ever see it? No.
  • You were told about a legend. A legend is just a REAL SOUNDING story or tale. We call it fiction. There has never been pure scientific proof of the existence of Bigfoot. That requires much more than shaky videos or out of focus photos.
  • The writer set out to scare you with CREEPY WORDS like: snakes, big dangerous things, lions, tigers, bears, cougars, wolves, bats, owls and how they all come out at night.
  • The writer TOLD YOU this was the third time he had run into Bigfoot so you thought it could be true.
  • You were told A GROWN-UP WAS SCARED AND WENT TO HIDE, but nothing actually came to get him did it? No.
  • Did he ever see any giant boulders? No. He just HEARD SOMETHING his imagination associated with a sound.
  • In all three stories he tells you HE SURVIVED THE NIGHT to tell you the tale.
  • In the second story, the writer essentially told us to build a fire because HE WAS AFRAID OF ANIMALS.
  • He told us a story he had only HEARD about bears, so we don’t know if it is true.
  • HE SCARED US WITH WORDS like: no moonlight, eerily quiet, dark black night, something huge, he was alone, scared, and something was not afraid of fire.
  • The writer told us there must be more than one creature throwing rocks to play on our FEAR OF BEING OUT-NUMBERED.
  • He could not run away. HE HAD TO FACE HIS FEAR to put out his fire. All that happened was he got splashed.
  • He tripped because he was scared. He broke his flashlight and imagined bumping into a fury creature but did he? No. He just bumped into his own car.
  • THE WRITER SCARED US SOME MORE, when he spoke of being alone and far away from people.
  • Did the writer ever see an animal or creature? No!

Here is the not-as-exciting truth behind all three tales:

While startled and leaving after the KER-PLOOSH sounds began , mostly because it would scare the fish away, the writer looked up what he had heard at the library and found out beavers do this when you are too close to their lodge.

  • So in stories one and two there were not any Bigfoot monsters with giant boulders; only beavers using their tails.

In the last story, a moose came through the forest crashing trees.

  • We know this because the writer found tracks the following day.
  • The horrible scream COULD HAVE BEEN ANYTHING from a barn owl, to raccoons fighting, to a lynx or bobcat, or possibly even a fox.
  • The huffing, the loud exhale sound, and the bad smell was most likely a bear attracted by the smell of the fish he had caught.
  • The writer now knows: If you are going to fish after dark, you should do it wearing a lifejacket with a fire on the shore; or better still, fish from a boat.
  • He always brushes his teeth before going to sleep in a tent, just in case the bear STORY has any merit.

WE ARE ONLY AFRAID OF THINGS WE DO NOT UNDERSTAND, whether it is animals or people.

A note from the author to parents:

Please do not help to make your children live in fear. There are trying times ahead for future generations and we must stop passing irrational fears along to our children.

  • Being afraid to go into a lake is ridiculous.
  • Being afraid of thunder and lightning is ridiculous.

HAVING RESPECT FOR THE POWER OF NATURE IS PRUDENT.

  • Your children learn how to manage fear from you.
  • How you handle your fears will have a directly impact on them.
  • If you fear something, research it. Knowledge is the key to overcoming any fear.