"B" is ushering in the end times.

My doodles are ushering in the end times [4].

Grandma is ushering in the end times.

She was a spectacular woman. Determined and full of fire. She'd meet you at the porch door after the long drive into the country, and you knew that, if you were patient and played outside for a while, there'd be a Dr Pepper party coming along soon.

She'd tell you to stand up tall and be proud of your height, and she'd snap at you if you had your hand in your mouth or near your eyes. Germs were for the foolish and lazy.

When the food was ready, she'd ring the dinner bell and cry out in her singular manner. A cry that could also be heard coming down from the bleachers, over everybody and everything else, while you stood on the football field in the middle of the game.

She was proud of her heritage, of her family's past, but she was even prouder of its future. She made me laugh like no one else. She had feisty one-liners and sometimes they stung.

She'd hold you tight in her hug and start to tickle your sides, but then she'd squeeze your hand and, with a serious look, tell you how much you meant to her and how she was so proud of you, of all her bunch.

Her singing voice was direct and unflappable, and she'd take the bass line. She'd volunteer you for anything and have the utmost confidence that you would make it a smashing success.

She liked dogs and cared little for cats. She loved her great-grandchildren. She had no patience for whiners.

She had traveled the world but was more than content to be living in the sparse expanse between Sedan and Amistad. Come summer, she was moving into town.

She'd pat your friends on the behind upon introduction, and you'd expectantly wait for that look of surprise to suddenly appear on their face.

She loved a man fiercely for over fifty years, and they were a balanced pair. She loved him even after he died, and she tried to keep real flowers at his grave, but nothing stays alive in that summer heat.

Her hair was thick, and her eyes sparked. Her faith was strong.

She would always say how lucky she was to be in this family.

But we knew we were the lucky ones.

The hard truth is ushering in the end times.

So I've had some time to consider the (non)response to my last post. Frankly, I found it difficult to believe that my blog has had no affect whatsoever on whatsoanyone. That's crazy talk and utter paranoia. I've seen the dramatic reversals in your medical charts. I've been there when your slimy newborns reluctantly push out into the cold fluorescent light of the hospital room. I've witnessed you painstakingly sneak-up on and attack orphans and stray puppies. I know my words are not falling void.

But something was not right. I began to mull over the possibilities, and one glaring conclusion out-glared all others. I am sorry for not seeing the signs earlier, for not helping you out when your silent cries of silence tore through cyberspace in an attempt to pull me out of my inattentive slumber.

I know that you, my readers, are illiterate. Please, don't be ashamed that I have uncovered the "hard truth." We cannot hide behind social decorum anymore. Do not tentatively turn your face from me, little ones. Look me in the eye. Stay proud. Many people, for many reasons, never learn to read nor write and, therefore, are unable to join functioning society and post comments on spectacular blogs when the blogger requests a little reader response. It's not your fault. Let's blame your parents. Parents! Damn the parents! Oh...damn!

But today I make the pledge that you, oh reader, will learn how to discern an A from a Z and a Z from a Zed. I will not leave you impoverished and abandoned on the streets, feet feebly wrapped in yesterday's newspapers to ward off the approaching gangrene. No, no - my homeless shall beam with pride as they read to passerby the headlines running along their decaying soles. My heart aches to think of you straining to find meaning in the foreign characters and imposing symbols scattered across my pages. You longed for a simple picture and feared the appearance of a cartoon with a caption. Today I understand it all so well. I was a negligent friend and mentor. But no more. I am going to teach you the alphabet, beginning now.

I love you, and I want to change your life for the better. But I can't help you if you continue to resist me. Remember, I know what's best.

Repeat to yourself, "d.a.vid knows what's best. d.a.vid knows what's best. I like it when he puts his hand upon my thigh. d.a.vid knows what's best."