This will come as a shock only to those who don’t know me, but most of my friends are women. One of the alarming things that has never failed to confirm the innate evilness of people is that fact that many of the statistics that I’ve stumbled across state that 38% of girls are sexually abused before the age of 18 and 90 – 95% of all sexual abuse cases go unreported to the police.
In my circles, I wonder if the statistics are too conservative.

I was asked in a chat/interview whether or not my religion kept me from writing about certain things. In general it doesn’t I think anything can be written about and it’s the skill of the writer that crafts the story told. There are times when I can’t get to a certain place that a story or character needs to go. In times like that, it’s good to have friends to call on. Friends like Wrath James White.

I’m reminded of a time in high school when my best friend (one of the few guy friends that I have) went through a “rededication of his faith” which for him meant that he threw away his rock ‘n roll tapes and quit cussing (that was where his conscience had been convicted, and where he was in his spiritual journey). So I, suffering from no such convictions at the time, did his cussing for him. If he ran into a situation that demanded more than his speech and conscious would allow, he’d get this frustrated look on his face then nod my way. And I’d spew venom with the appropriate level of vitriol the situation required.

What can I say, profanity was one of my gifts.

Right now, I don’t know if it’s my faith that binds me (though, truth be told, it’s about the only thing keeping me together most days) or my stoic nature, but I feel like I can’t get in touch with what I want to say. I know that Wrath can bring the passion to the topic that I just don’t have, or rather, can’t give, right now.

WARNING: Wrath is an “extreme” horror writer, not for the faint of heart. However, here’s a final thought for any “enemies”, one that we were just discussing a couple Sundays ago in regards to God’s wrath (as well as an interesting way to think of Mr. White): wrath is love in action.

And it rarely looks pretty.

Comment on this bit of rantus interruptus anyway you want (I don’t know where you’re reading it from) but if you want to guarantee me seeing it, do so at my message board.