Because no spirtitual path is sanitary………


FUCK AMERICA……Youtube says it may be inappropriate

Tried to post my latest song but someone at Youtube doesn’t like it. It’s entitled:


©Stephen Paul Ellington 2022 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED


As I write this there is a reunion going on up in a small town where I spent my formative years. Needless to say I did not go but I did dredge up some photos I would like to share:



Was on a Honda in 1972 and still ride one today.

Hope y’all have a good time up there.  Maybe I’ll make the 50th!





We have no reason to rejoice

As Mary exercised her choice

The tale I tell is sad and sordid

The baby Jesus

Has been aborted


No season full of joy and mirth

No laughter, cheer or peace on earth

From Bethlehem it’s been reported

The baby Jesus

Has been aborted


There will never be an end to strife

No hope for everlasting life 

There is no savior as was slated 

The virgin birth

Has been terminated

Copyright ©1993-2022 Stephen Paul Ellington
 All Rights Reserved

Acts Of God In The Knick Of Time

They aren’t coincidences.  They’re just acts of God in the knick of time.- Sam Giles

The man just showed up unannounced and asked if he could speak with me.  I could not think of any reason not to hear the man out though I must admit I tried.  I am usually very busy and my schedule is nearly always full.  Yet at the time this stranger showed up there was an uncharacteristic lull in the action and, since he appeared sincere and coherent, and inasmuch as I am a counselor, I agreed to listen.

I settled back in my chair as the stranger recounted his tale.

“I was in treatment for drugs and alcohol and had just been released from detox, “ he said.  “I was still pretty foggy though when a nurse informed me that I was required to attend and informal meeting in the ‘day room’ with the rest of the patients.  There was a speaker from outside of the hospital who was there to share the AA message.  Needless to say I was less than enthused.  All I could think about was how I had ‘shot the wad’.  No more fun for me.  Without booze and dope how was I ever going to enjoy myself?  So toxic and full of self pity I dragged myself out to the day room and took a seat.”

“The room was like a giant fake living room/dinette with awful bright colors soft chairs and couches and a refrigerator stocked with little single shot fruit juice cups and yogurt.  I grabbed a cup of coffee and was soon further dejected when I realized all the hospital served patients was decaf.  The man from AA was very dark African-American in a very bright yellow sweat suit.  He buzzed around the room smiling and joyful, getting in the face of all the patients trying to cheer them up with his AA message.  He reminded me of a carpenter bee.”

“A what?” I asked the stranger.

“ A carpenter bee,” he replied. “You know.  A black and yellow insect buzzing around the room.”

“Oh, you mean a bumble bee.” I said.

“No,” the stranger countered. “A carpenter bee.”

“Whatever,” I said. “Please continue.”

“ Anyway.  He buzzed around the room sharing the joys of his sobriety and encouraging others to join in.  I really don’t remember much of what he said.  At the time I really didn’t care. I was too self-absorbed and was more involved with staring at the girls from the women’s unit who had joined us.  Lost in toxic fantasies I could not have cared less about what this man had to say.  I just wanted his pitch to be over.  Then he said something that snapped me out of it.  Something I have remembered for over a quarter of a century and has helped me stay clean and sober to this very day.”

The man said that if a person quit drinking and using drugs one day at a time for his whole life… If he lived according to the twelve steps of Alcoholics Anonymous…  If that person admitted he had a problem.  Turned his will and his life over to the care of his own conception of God.  Took a searching and fearless moral inventory of himself and shared all his wrongs and defects with another human being…  Then apologized, made amends and paid full restitution too all those he had harmed…  If that person continued to take personal inventory and when he was wrong promptly admitted it…  If he prayed and meditated and tried to help his fellow man on a daily basis for the rest of his life…

If a person did all these things and got to the end of his life, died sober and stood before God and God looked down on him and laughed and said, “Man you were never an alcoholic!”

Then, the man said, “You will not have lost anything.  If you lived your life according to these simple spiritual steps and found out later you never really had to you will not have lost a thing.  In fact you will have gained immeasurably!”

The stranger then got up and appeared to be about to leave.

I stopped him and asked, “Why did you come here to me today, stranger?”

He replied, “Something told me you needed to hear that.”  Then he left.  I had never seen him before nor have I seen him since.  But he was right.  I needed to hear that.

He was right about something else too.

It was a carpenter.


copyright©2016 Stephen Paul Ellington All Rights Reserved

Rest In Peace


Knucklehead collarJPG


The Xmas Story: Deadline For Giving

He was born in tumultuous times.  An era when beliefs and biology were changing and evolving at a rapid rate.  That much was obvious to Jesus H. Poquito at an early age. He also realized at an early age that he loved people.  On the other hand people had always eyed Jesus with concern and, while he had many acquaintances, he had no close friends.  The reason was clear:

He shared too much

He was far too generous.

This made people nervous and people do not like feeling nervous.

In elementary school the children tormented Jesus H. Poquito.  They called him a retard and a freak.  Occasionally they would verbally slam the little Poquito with the worst of all possible insults.  He remembered well the day that they had first chided him with chants of:

“Your parents never had sex!”

The inference that a person was a clone was the most obnoxious obloquy a man could muster.

“You would burn in hell,” they would holler,  “except that you have no soul because your parents never had sex”

But Jesus H. Poquito responded to these taunts the same way he reacted to virtually all stimuli:

He gave.

He gave flowers.

He gave white sage.

He gave of himself.

His parents were distraught for it seems the young Jesus had begun this perverse behavior in infancy.  They feared their child was a mutant.

Some sort of deviant.

A sociopath.

An effort was made at a young age to retrain the boy.  His indoctrination was much more intense than the training normal children received.  Normal children seemed to grasp the custom right away.  Normal children seemed to have no problem with the idea that you gave on one and only one day of the year;

That holiest of holidays.

The most sacred of the state-sanctioned, paid days off.


The twenty-four hour period annually set aside to get things.

It was important to get things.

It was the ultimate satisfaction.


People spent their whole lives collecting the things they got at Getmas.

Everyone got good at Getmas.

Supposedly if you got good, you got more.

Then you got glad.

You got to experience the joy of getting.

Legend has it that in ancient times the ones who amassed the most got huge structures built for them to house what they got, so that when they finally got dead, they could be entombed for all eternity with the goods of their getting.

But under no circumstances was one allowed to get before the designated day.

The only acceptable exception was that families without children were allowed to get on Getmas eve.

Jesus H. Poquito was always a bit confused by this tradition.

“Father, to acquire goodies at Getmas means someone has to give, does it not?” the young Poquito innocently inquired.

“Ssshhh,” his father scolded him,  “not so loud!  Of course someone has to give.  But the joy is in the getting!  Just think.  A whole years worth of acquisition in one day. Ah, Getmas!”

“I would like to give you a hug,” Jesus said to his mother.

“Wait for Getmas!”

I would like to give you this toy sailboat, Daddy.  I made it all by myself.”

“Save it for Getmas, boy!”

The Poquito boy was sad, for he loved to give.  It felt so good to give!  He saw momentary flashes of joy on people’s faces when he gave to them.  That is, until they had realized what they had done.  Over and over he was chastised for this untimely and indiscriminate giving.

Once, while a teenager, he tried to follow the Getmas tradition to the letter, only to forget one of his aunts until the next day.  As soon as he realized the oversight Jesus rushed across town to give her a Getmas gift.

His aunt, as well as his entire family, expressed their extreme displeasure.

“How dare you forget Getmas!” they all screamed at him.  “You should be ashamed!  How dare you attempt to give to your aunt after the designated day!  The tradition is explicit.

Getmas is the deadline for getting!”

As soon as Jesus H. Poquito was old enough he left home.  He continued his pattern of unrestrained giving.  He espoused a way of life so foreign to most folks that he was ostrasized and even accused of being the devil. His family, humiliated at all the exposure, disowned him. The government harassed him and continually tried to arrest Jesus and his small band of caring converts.  The feds were afraid of a drastic loss of revenue should everyday become Getmas.  How would they keep track?

Jesus H. Poquito, fearing the feds would silence him and not wanting to cause his family anymore undo hardship, decided to discontinue using his surname and became:

Jesus X

Along with a handful of followers, Jesus X traveled the country and preached a gospel of unselfishness.  Everywhere they went they brought gifts. And everyday they endured horrible prejudice.  This adversity cemented the resolve of a few. Others became dismayed and departed. A few of these reformed givers got rich by publicizing to the general public the inside story of the life of the dissident Jesus X.

And yet, Jesus X continued to give.

He gave flowers.

He gave white sage.

He gave of himself.

He gave everyday, including Getmas eve and Getmas morning.

One day some of the ex Jesus Xmen concocted a scheme to lure the much loathed Jesus X to their home and do away with him.  They would rid the world of this continual contributor and get rich from telling the story of his demise.

On that fateful spring day Jesus X approached the isolated ranch where he had been summoned under false pretenses.  He was happy when the occupants opened the door and he recognized them as former followers.  The ex Xmen, supplementing their income with the illegal manufacture of methamphetamine, were wired to the gills on their own product and also heavily armed.  They directed Jesus X to the rear of their makeshift laboratory where upon they beat him soundly and then drowned him in a fifty-gallon drum of the flammable solvent commonly used in the creation of the crystalline stimulant.  Jesus X died a speedy death.

For ridding the world of this nuisance the exterminators of Jesus X got riches and fame beyond their wildest dreams.  And they even received their rewards immediately rather than having to wait for Getmas!

In fact, the whole nation was rewarded, for in honor of the dead givers demise a new state sanctioned, paid day off has been implemented.  It is a time set aside to be grateful and to remember the day the chemical vapors rose from the dead Jesus X. On this holiday it is right and proper to return to the recipients of your Getmas giving and repossess all that you gave. This day has been named in honor of the now sacred solvent commonly used in the manufacture of methamphetamine.  That light, flammable substance with anesthetic properties that was used to drown Jesus X.

Today is the day.  So be advised.  I am on my way over right now to take back everything I have ever given you.

Happy Ether.

copyright © 1999-2015 Stephen Paul Ellington all rights reserved

The further in the woods you get, the more nuts you find

More absurd prophecies from C1:The Eye’s Mind come to pass as yet another virgin gives birth!

Can Warmwood and Hermaphroditic Extraterrestrials be far behind?

The Weismans are coming……………