Evolution

Todd Sanders' 12 year old stomach jostled in anticipation on his way home from school. His father Jay Sanders told him this morning to go directly to Mrs. Scrim's house straight after school as he will be working late again tonight. Todd's mother was on a women's retreat that his family church put on so she is away for the next 3 days, that is Friday to Sunday.

Todd was your average kid. He was happy; he liked getting dirty by playing mud-football just after it rained with his friends at school and church, he like the ickiness of chopping up frogs in science and puberty has caused him to notice girls in a new light. He was not however your average kid in that he never went through the coodie stage. He has always been friendly with both boys and girls. He was an approachable kid but in spite of that he didn't have many good friends and but he did have enough to hold him over, two or three. He learned that even though Jesus was the Son of God he didn't have many 'friends', twelve to be precise and even out of that number Jesus only really had 3 good friends so he figured if 3 good friends was 'good enough' for the Son of God/God then 3 good friends should be enough for him also. 

Todd liked the 67 year old widowed woman, Mrs. Scrim. She always had chocolate chip cookies and his choice of soft-drink ready for him when he came home from school. Walking up Mrs. Scrim's average sized, empty driveway Todd inconsiderately didn’t think as he took a shortcut across the corner of her lawn, as apposed to completing the L-shaped walk way that her driveway and front-porch made up. Mrs. Scrim was legally blind thus she wasn't allowed to drive anymore; so to get money she sold off her late husbands 79 Oldsmobile. She was a woman of faith and has been since the 60's when her husband brought her to his church. Todd opened the front door and let himself in. This was a normal routine, Mrs. Scrim expected it. As always the first thing Todd saw was the wooden plaque that read: "But as for me and my household, we will serve the LORD.” - Joshua 24:15 on the wall that doubled as an overhang, over the living room and the bottom half of the upstairs railing. To the left of the entrance into the living from the hallway was four steps that lead directly into the kitchen. The smell of chocolate cookies permeated down those steps and over the railing and into the hallway; in fact the smell was ingrained into the walls all over the house as it seemed. 2 years, every day, Todd came home from school or summer camp when there was no school to Mrs. Scrim's house and for two year at 4 O'Clock the 67 year old woman was in the kitchen with her white apron around her waist peeling cookies off of a cooled baking-pan; Toddy was no different.

"Hello Todd." Mrs. Scrim shouted from the kitchen. "You want a couple of cookies and root beer?" she shouted.

Todd looked up through the bars of the railing, past the kitchen table to see the top half of the busy-body Mrs. Scrim with oven mitts covering her hands holding a spatula in one hand and dinner plate in the other. Todd assumed that she was warring her white apron, but from his angle of the kitchen from in the hallway he couldn't determine that. The aroma smacked Todd in the face as he walked in the house. Aimlessly he tossed his bag on the handcrafted bench that was on the hallway, just to have it ending up missing it all together and landing in the closet that it sat beside, on top of a rack of boots and shoes, that sat underneath coats. He ran down the front hallway, pivoted before reaching the overhang and darted up four steps to the kitchen.

***

10 O'Clock, Todd lay down in his bed, just staring and listening. He was waiting for the hallway light to go off and the sounds of his father shutting his bedroom door to confirm that he has gone to bed. The clicking sound of the door latch was music to his ears as it told him that it was safe. Todd sat up in his bed, reached over to his moonlit bedside table and clicked the lamp that sat on it, ON. Then from the sitting position he leaned over the side of his bed to end up being half on his bed and half on the floor with one hand on the carpet supporting himself and while the other reach over to get his school bag. He scraped the carpet as his middle finger barley touched the strap of his bag. After a few tries he was able to get a grip onto the bag-strap and pull it over to him. Being lopsided he lifted his bag up and onto his bed before straightening himself on it. The juices in his gut bubbled with mischievous anticipation. He straightened his bag in front of him, unzipped it and just dumped its contents on to his duvet covered lap. 5 books fell out. 'World of Words', his English book, 'The Math for My Life', his unfinished math homework that he said he didn't have, a book simply called 'Science' and to thin magazines that he found in the garbage. 'Men' and 'Hello!': non-nude girlie mags.

Pushing his school books off his lap to the end of his bed he vigorously opened the first girlie mag. that lay on his lap: 'Hello!'. In full color, all the women in this mag, both of them actually were of many different ethnicities: white, back, Chinese, and the like and each had the typical frame that one would expect from this sort of seductive magzine and warring scantily clad outfits that covered - well, hardly anything.

"Oh man! So, so, so...these women!" Todd said in his zone.

***

The smell of someones previous use permeated the men's bathroom at Morgansville High School or M.H.S for short. Todd, sat on the john fully covered with the stall door shut. The smell of usage didn't bother him as his 15 year old body was in the washroom but he was in perverts-zone. His bag filled with school books and girlie mags, of which most were mags sat at his feet upright and open for easy access. His collection of has evolved into a quite a large one and there were more than the always preferred throwaway mags, a few new ones were in the mix that he got at a 5-finger discount at the local corner store; the level of 'girlieness' also elevated.

Todd sat on the 'can' not doing what he used to do while in his room when he was twelve. He savored and even flipped between pages, each mag. He blinked and caressed some of is favorite pages with his eyes and even fingers.

"Mhhhh, that ###" he commented under his breath, as he referred to a body part of the women on the glossy full colored picture.

"Ding!" the sound of the 'class change bell' took Todd out of his zone and back into the males washroom at M.H.S. The startled Todd looked up with a quick 'sucked in breath' and looked around himself. With the magazine in both hands he turned his right wrist and looked at his digital watch. 10:15. 'Last class before lunch.' he said to himself. 'What day is it? - Thursday. Ahh, only science.' he said to himself, then left his body on the toilet, looking down at the page his hands held open and went back into his zone.  

***

11th grade, a cool October mid-noon time, one week from Halloween, Todd sat on the park bench with some friends at lunch hour. A couple of buddies sat on top of the table with their feet on the bench, smoking, eating lunch and joking about how they would get drunk and do something naughty to some of the girls that walked around on the school grounds of M.H.S and of course with their consent.  With his elbows propped up on the wooden varnished 2X4 he pulled a mouthful of smoke from the filter of a Black Smoke cigarette into his mouth and blue it out and just stared, surveying the land, scanning his fellow students, namely the female ones.

"So, Todd, you coming?" a handsome punk friend of his said, taking him out of his zone.

"Huu, what?" he said. He vigorously shook his head as he was startled back to earth. It was humorous to the table of friends.

"Oh, hey, earth to Todd." his punk friend said as he snapped a his fingers near Todd's ear. The sharp snapping sound irritated Todd causing his to slap his friend's hand away.

"Hey, stop it man!..."

"Where are you man? So...are you coming?"

"Hu..." Todd said still a little disoriented from his quick trip back to earth.

With a giggle, his punk friend repeated. "Are you coming? You, know Halloween...at Gibson's place...the party that he has each year...hello?"  

Todd got with the program."Oh, ya, I'll be there!" he said with a smile and reached out for slap-slide five. His punk friend reached out to receive the slap-slide 'five'.

"Who are you going with?" his friend asked. 

"Oh I'll find someone there?" Todd responded pridefully.

"Oh, you think so hey?" his punk friend said with the tone that said 'Your full of it, you know that eh?'

"Oh, ya, of course" Todd said with a pulled back and prideful pronounced chest. "I can get any girl here."

"Oh, right! You are so full of it Todd."  

"What? You don't think I can?" he said in a daring voice. 

His punk friend just smiled, smirked his voice... 'Ding' the lunch bell dinged indicating that lunch was over. His punk friend just slide off the table to get going for class shaking at the insanity of Todd's shamelessness; he fisted his pack of smokes and lighter and walked down to the school.  

"What!" Todd repeated as he climbed out from the seat and chased after his friend, who just with a smile gave a 'dissing' hand and kept on walking.

Todd caught up to his group of buddies; as a group they walked into the main hallway of the school. The group turned a sharp right and headed for a hallway that was lined with green lockers. This is how the hallways in this school was designated; they were color-coated by different colors of lockers. The hallway the group headed for must have burnt some brain cells coming up with such an innovative way to designate the hallways. For an example this hallway was named: The Green Hallway. Most students thought it was a bit cheesy but, dealt with it as it was easy to navigate around the school. Todd however broke off from the group and headed left towards the 'Blue Hall', a hall decorated with blue lockers. Jesse McFadden one of Todd's click members, a tall lanky black kid with a buzz-cut saw Todd veer off in the opposite direction.  

"Hey Todd, where are you going?" He said out loud forcing the group to stop and look at their wayward friend. "Class is this way?" he said as he point toward the green hall.  

With his bag on his back he said thought for a second. "Yah, I know, I am just going to take a leak; I'll see you in there." he responded. - This answer satisfied his group of friends so they turned and walked towards class as Todd skipped off in the opposite direction, down the blue hall. Todd skipped past five classroom doors and a drinking fountain before he arrived at a door with the universal picture for 'Male's Washroom': the icon containing to vertical straight lines and a circle on top of them. Advancing at the door in stride he looked around him before entering as if he didn't want to be seen going in, then pushed the door open and went in. There were 3 boys in the washroom at the time and one was in one of the stalls while the other two stood at the mirror checking themselves and making sure they 'looked good' for their girls. Todd however didn't care about them; he was a man on a mission. He ran into the centre of the main lavatory and knelt down to see what stall he can use. Out of the 4 stalls there were three available, however one he discovered was only decent for reasons that do not need to be explained. He pushed the metal door, slid in, shut it and locked it.

***

'Ding' - The sound of the teacher lecturing about Native Culture was replaced with the hustle and bustle of binders being slid off desks and falling into knapsacks, pencils being picks up off the wooden desk and the like.

"Okay, folks don't forget, a 5 percent quiz on Monday; half a nice weekend!" the small stature teacher shouted out. Jesse walked out of the room with his books under his arm and his punk friend walking beside him. They turned left to see Todd at his locker shoving something into it. They walked over to him, stood behind his locker door.

"Hey, man where you first class? I thought you were going to just take a leak. What happened, you passed out or something?" his punk friend asked. - Todd looked at his to buddies, reached in his locker, opened his back, and just allowed them to peer into it. With a smile they laughed a laugh of approval.  

"You sick perv. You skipped English to get your jollies." he said, again in an sarcastic and approving way.  

"No, I was doing some..." he said then had to think of what witty comment he could make, non came to mind so a cheesy comment had to do. "...extra reading." He finished with a smile.  

"You are unbelievable, you know that - sick perv." he said ending his comment profanely. Just then a group of 3 beautiful ladies walked up to Todd and crew. Three boys, 6 eyes, all bulging out of their heads. 

"Hey Janice," Todd said to the middle girl. Janice, 17 was a tall and thin framed young lady with long red hair. Her two friends where like Cinderella's two ugly step sisters in comparison to her; all though they were far from ugly. For Todd however they were nothing in comparison to Janice.

"Hi" she said politely then turned her attention to Todd's punk friend. It was like a spike into the heart. Todd sized Janice up and his mind went to his girlie mags that lay in two dimensional form in his schoolbag. Janice: perfect body, from her skeletal frame to the twisting and folding skin that protruded from her bellybutton. Todd's mind wandered and his heart got heavy. 'This young specimen of beauty doesn't want to be mine', his mind thought. "So, Hank you going to Gibson's party on 'All Hallows Eve'?" she asked with a smile and a stroke on his chest with her finger and accentuating 'All Hallows Eve'. Tongue-tied, Hank stammered for words.  

"Oh, ya, I’ll be there." he replied being absent of anything charming or profound. This satisfied the young beauty and so her and her two friends walked away. Three boys, six eyes, four of them following the girls as they walked away while the other two stood stammered at the idea of such a beautiful woman would pay attention to them.  

***

Todd was physically dressed up for a good time, but his heart was munching on madness as he felt like a sardine squished in the backseat between Jesse and George the forth member of their click of Hank's father's Convertible. In the front was Hank in the driver's seat and in the passenger seat sat the beauty of M.H.S: Janice Spencer; the same woman who rejected him 3 times in a weak. The twenty-two minute ride seemed like 2 hours as Todd's mind just seethed with jealousy, as though he didn't clue into this. He figured he was justifiably angry at his punk friend. 'What does she see in him? He is a punk! He is scrawny and his head is like a porcupine. Me however, I am built, I have abs and I can take down anyone in a fight.' ran through his mind.

However no matter whether time is perceived or real, it always comes to an end. Hank parallel parked the car on the street 4 houses down from Gibson’s house. He turned off the engine, looked at his sexy date, then turned his eyes to his three male sardined friends and smiled.

“Let’s get go’in,” he said. Then turned opened his door and stepped out onto the street. George and Jesse did the same thing. “Todd, grab the beer!” Hank ordered, or at least that is how it sounded in Todd’s ears. “Its in the back behind you.” Not feeling much up to being ordered around Todd figured that he better get some beer into his system or he will explode. He turned his head and on a small ledge behind him was two 12-cases. He reached back and grabbed them; Jesse however stood on the street with his head in the car.

“Here hand the beer to me.” He said thinking that it would be hard for Todd to double task getting out of the car while holding two 12-case, cases of beer. In Todd’s ears however it was just another order, an order to be robotically obeyed. He did know that he could double task so he did ‘as he was told’ and handed the two 12-cases to Jesse.

Once his hands were free he hopped out of the car. The night air brushed up against his face. This was the only thing that he liked about the night thus far. The whole world was against him. One of his best friends gets the woman that should be his, another friend is taking monopoly of the beer and the woman of his dreams hates him; at least the wind treated him with respect. He was hot as he was being squished in the backseat of an undersized convertible, the air was a refreshing tone to his current life.

Todd followed behind his crew as they hopped on the sidewalk and walked north down to Gibson’s place. With each house they passed the music from Gibson’s got louder and louder. There were three markers that told them that they were at the right place. 1) There were 6 cars in the driveway. 2) people were camped out on the lawn drinking and throwing up in the garden and 3) the music blared through the open windows that showed more busyness than what goes on in a beehive. Hank and his crew turned and walked up on the lawn as there was no other way to get to the front door. The front door was open so they just helped themselves.

Hank walked in first, Janice followed, Jesse, George and then Todd wondered in. The house was packed! It was just as bad as the Mall on Boxing Day or possibly worse; but this was to be expected, it was after all Gibson’s annual Halloween party. The house was filled with female devils with pitchforks, bums with raggedy jackets and mismatched gloves, a couple of corpse and some rock stars; there were 2 Marilyn Mansons and a few Rob Zombies; and of course there were many, like Hank and his crew who didn’t get in the ‘Halloween spirit’ and just came in their typical ‘let’s paint the town red’ Friday night party cloths. Metallica was blaring over the speakers from within the living room, through an open threshold to the right of the hallway. The whole downstairs house, at least what was seen thus far was decorated with Halloween junk, like skeletons, paper ghosts and hands that stuck out from walls as if zombies were breaking their way through the wall.

Hank and his crew inched their way through the hallway filled with dancing devils and monsters of all kinds to the kitchen to put their beer in the fridge. They recognized pretty much everyone as most were students at M.H.S, but didn’t know anyone. This was typical. Gibson’s parties were an open BYOB invitation. Just as long as you supplied your own booze you were welcome. So it wasn’t surprising to see ‘minor-niners’ (Grade 9 students) to people who have been going to his parties since they were in grade 9 and now are in grade 12. When Hank and his crew got to the kitchen they saw and watched a short homeless bum arguing with a zombie over where he (the zombie) can put his beer. The refrigerator is full so the bum, (Gibson) was demanding that the zombie put it out side in the garage. It was rather comical to see this. The zombie ironically didn’t like the idea of his beer being outside in amongst bugs and spiders. This answered Hank and his crew their question: ‘Where can we stash our beer?’ Instead of locking horns with Gibson, Hank and Jesse agreed to just put it in the garage, as they suspected Gibson would direct them too. Jesse who was holding both cases of beer at this point gave one to Hank. Both boys walked into the kitchen and passed Gibson (the Halloween bum). Hank gave him a friendly slapped in the shoulder to announce that they have arrived and passed him as they went on to the door leading to the garage.

Hours went by, the music was dulled by alcohol intoxication and the party was moved upstairs for a few guests. Hank sat in an arm chair in the living room going deaf with Iron Maiden blaring in his ear. He however was drunk as an Irishman so he wasn’t fazed by it at all. Janice, who was just as drunk sat in his lap sucking on a marijuana joint that made a rotation around to her. Jesse and George were…somewhere.

Todd sat outside in the garage, with the beer. In a drunken stupor he dwelled on the images from his magazines and websites he has looked at in the last few days, however with one difference. Every picture that ran through his mind was Janice. Janice replaced every woman in his girlie mags. She was in the same positions and wore the same cloths, if they had any as the models in magazines of smut but instead of them Janice was every woman. Just then a blaring light pierced his peripheral vision. A wasted homeless Gibson and a couple of seniors from M.H.S crashed Todd’s pitty party. Todd looked up in a drunken startle.

“Hey man! Whatya do’in out here man?” Gibson slurred and then saw the bottle of beer in his hand and the 5 empty bottles that kept him company; Gibson and the seniors were drunk, they couldn’t add 2+2 but they were able to connect the dots here; Todd has been drinking other people’ booze. This got them angry. A tall but muscular senior saw one of his beer bottles, empty.

“Hey, you!” he objected loudly with profanity and rushed Todd and pushed him. Considering that he was already on the ground he didn’t fall but he did tumble over. This got Todd more angry than what he has been. Without think he stood up and swung at the senior with the bottle that he had in his hand. Both of them were drunk so their coordination was off, Todd’s punch was not landed anywhere near the senior but the intent rang as clear as church bells in a city on Sunday morning. The senior having the advantage of being physically taller and stronger, than Todd, and being not as drunk as he, he lunged at Todd landing his fist into Todd’s gut folding Todd over onto his forearm; this gave the senior another advantage of which he took. With is free fist he clocked Todd on the side of the head knocking him to the ground.  By now not that there was much of a fight going on Gibson didn’t want on to really start. He lunged in his drunken stupor at his senior friend and tackled him. Although that didn’t do much physically, it was enough to snap him out of his rage and come down, but not after giving Todd a three good kicks in the stomach first. After he had calmed down enough to stop seeing-red, he bent down, picked up the rest of what was left of his beer and went inside.

What is it with fights and fires? Every time, there is either a fight or a fire, it always brings a crowed and this evening was is no different. Todd lay on the garage floor too drunk to be in pain from his beating and too drunk to really clue as to what just happened. He lay on the ground but he was conscious. He looked up to see a group of people just standing their staring at him; not helping him, just staring. Just then he heard notice commotion enter the garage. It was Hank and Jesse, who heard about their friend being beaten up. Hank ran in first, then Jesse. They bent down and helped their wounded friend to his feet. Hank and Jesse stood on both sides of him with one arm around each of their necks. In his drunken state he looked up at the crowd and saw her…in the threshold was his forbidden bride, Janice. Hank and Jesse escorted Todd in to the house. Todd got a glimpse of the severity of his beating when he saw that he was leaving a trail of blood drops from his mouth and nose as he was being escorted to the front of the house and out the front door.

Hank and Jesse pulled their beaten buddy out the front door; luckily there was no one on the front step; Hank and Jesse walked off the step and carefully sat their friend down on it. Todd sat on the step with his knees separated and his face between them. Hank and Jesse stood behind him with one hand each on each of Todd’s shoulders. Just then from behind him, a wet cloth was presented to Hank; he saw it at his peripheral vision and then turned to see who it was who was handing him it. It was Janice along with a small crowd that was huddled around the threshold. Her face showed a genuine concern, not for ‘Todd per say, but rather concern for another fellow human being. He smiled and took the cloth from her hand and gave it to Todd. He took it and placed it under his nose thinking that is what it was given to him for, to catch the blood so not to continue bleeding all over Gibson’s driveway and porch-step.

“What the hec bro?!” Jesse asked his beaten buddy. “What was that all about?” Jesse was able to hold his booze. He was drunk as anyone else, but he was the lucky ones that could not show it. He sounded intellectual and he didn’t slur.

Todd in his intoxicated state mumbled something from between his knees; all Jesse and Hank heard was mumble, no words.

Hank on the other hand, was the poster boy for drunkenness. In fact it is a wonder how he was able to able help Jesse haul Todd out from the garage, through the house and out onto the porch. “What, Todd man,…Im…drunk...you need to speak uuuuppppp!” he said and ended with a giggle.

Jesse knew that Hank will no longer be any help. “Hank go in and drink up, you aren’t drunk enough!” he said sarcastically.

Janice, even though she was just as intoxicated saw that her date was going to just be an obstacle. She stepped down onto the step, grabbed Hank by the armpit and hauled him to his feet. “Com’on, I’m antsy, let’s go for a walk.” 

“Oh…baby…I don’t think…” Hank said a genuine state of doubt.

“Oh, yes, com’on, I’m need to move, com’on.” Janice pleaded and tugged at Hank. It didn’t take much, Hank was so drunk that a light wind could topple him like a tree being cut down by a lumber jack; all it would take would be a finger nudge and gravity would do the rest. Janice just walked off the step, past Todd and the drunken punk just followed like a dog on a leash.

Todd looked up and looked passed his blurry vision and broken nose to see Hank and the beauty of Morgansville High walk in the dark of night, only illuminated by street lights, arm in arm down the lawn, onto the sidewalk and down the street. This got his mind off of his bleeding nose and sore stomach, which was no more evident and back onto why he was even in the garage to begin with having his one-man, beer-fest (with other people’s beer), pity-party. He studied them until they disappeared. Without even a thanks to at least Jesse who was still there showing some level of concern for his friend, Todd ventured back into his darkened hole, abruptly stood up and marched down the lawn, down the sidewalk.

“Hey, Todd, man, what the heck is wrong with you man?” Jesse shouted at his stammered, stomping friend.

Todd was so into his zone of jealousy that he didn’t hear anything. The small crowed at the front door, was still watching the show and Gibson, the homeless bum was one of them. Once Todd turned onto the sidewalk and walked down the street in the opposite direction Gibson figured that the event had come to a close; there was nothing more than can be done. He stood at the door not feeling the buzz he wanted; he was drunk but as a result of this chaos he was no just depressed. He was instant that this can never happen again! 

***

Todd in his drunken outrage, crashed through the front door, not considering that it was after 2 AM and his parents were probably asleep. He walked through the front door, around the corner, up the three steps into the living room, did a left-U-Turn and stomped up the white carpeted stairs to the bedroom level of the house. Being in his zone, Todd didn’t see them until he ran into a pair of yellow, housecoat covered knees. He looked up and saw his mother sitting on the top step, then he looked up higher and saw his father crossed armed standing up behind her, leaning on the wall.

First he had to fight with his parents, then explain in his intoxicated state why he had dried blood all over their his mouth and nose and then he had to get grounded for a month from everything but eating and breathing before being allowed to go to his room to climb into bed. It was not until 3:30 AM when Todd was lying down in bed.

Normally after a night of drinking, fighting and seething any person would pass out the millisecond that their head hit their soft pillow. Todd however wasn’t in the mood for sleeping. His lip was fat, his nose was probably busted, his stomach ached and his heart and mind white knuckled over the image of Janice. He lay in bed wide awake. He just listened and waited for his parents to go to bed. Once he saw the hall-light glow disappear from underneath his closed bedroom door, he flung his duvet off of his body, swung his legs over the side of his bed, wandered over to his computer, as he was about to loose it for the next 30 days so he wanted to take as much time of use as possible; he clicked the power on and sat down at his desk; placing the cursor in the text box at the top of a web browser he typed…’www.’

***

The following school day after Halloween, held a different social aroma. Todd wandered the hallway not wanting to go to class, but also not wanting to go to the bathroom stall. He had just a big fight with his two close friends Hank and Jesse about his behavior at the party. Hank blamed him for ruining his buzz while Jesse blamed him for being a pain in the rear end. Both these men were black listed from any more parties at Gibson’s because of their association with Todd. The only person that didn’t look at Hank differently is Janice and she never cared too much about Jesse to begin with so her views of him didn’t change either. Gibson made it clear to Hank that he was no allowed to return to any of his parties. The accusation was Hank brought Todd and thus he was his responsibility. This didn’t make any logical sense as everyone was an animal that night including him; but seemingly drinking, smoking up and having sex in other people’s bedroom was proper party conduct. Drinking other people’s booze and getting into a fight about it was not. Furthermore, the two muscular senior who through the first punch into Todd’s gut wasn’t band; seemingly Todd deserved it so the one-way fight was justified.

Todd just hung at the side of the hallway with his bag of porn and academic books thrown over his shoulder. The graphic violent images and MPEGs he has been viewing lately on the Internet made his bag of porn not as inviting. He stood leaning up against the wall and watched. He watched Hank and Janice down the far end of the hall ‘being close.’ His ex-best friend Hank he ignored as he did every other guy in the school; his mind concentrated on the tight-tummied red head that he was with: Janice.

***

30 year old Todd Sanders sat in the wooden chair, in a shirt and tie beside his lawyer. The time lapse was really only a few minutes as the left side door opened at the front of the court room and an old man came out warring a long back judges rob. He looked like he was ready to retire. His demeanor said: ‘I have had enough of this job.’ On the right side of the same ‘front wall’ a snake of people of different ethnicity came out and then divided in to three groups of four and sat down one a tri-level bench.

The ageing judge sat in his tall overbearing judges-bench looked at the jury. “Would the defendant please rise.” He said looking at Todd and his lawyer. Todd’s lawyer looked at him and then stood to his feet; this was Todd’s cue to follow suit and he did so immediately. Todd stood up and straightened his sports crinkled jacket. The judge then turned his attention to his left, Todd’s right, to the 12 jurors. “How do you find the defendant Todd Sanders?” Now life crawled! It looked like he was watching the short middle aged, mother of two Indian woman stand up millimeter by millimeter. A thousand thoughts ran through his head, mostly memories; memories, of women, who have all been negatively effected by him. In all of 30 seconds, 18 years ran through his mind, starting off on the day he found the two girlie magazines in the garbage, when he was twelve.

However it wasn’t so much that he was caught for it that made his own stomach churn. It was what he lost because of his evolving obsession. He lost his two best friends when he was in the latter years of high school and he lost any sense of respect for everything and now he is at a very good risk of loosing his freedom. He knew intellectually the women in his life were human beings with human bodies, but that recognition slowly dissipated with every image in a magazine and picture and movie on an internet website. In the end, he didn’t understand (and still doesn’t) how women became mere moving statues for him and this is exactly how he treated them; everyone of them he has damaged in one way shape or form. And now today he is looking at many years in prison, if not the rest of his life. If he is found guilty it is all because he failed to resist the evil and natural desires of his heart. – The middle aged Indian woman was fully on her feet she unfolded a piece of paper looked at it and read… 

See: Tying in the heavenly message

Betty's first day of school

Monday morning, 18 year old Betty Johansson stood in the middle of the busy hallway of her new high school, Morgansville High, or M.H.S for short as it is commonly called. Students would often answer the question “So where do you go to school?” with “I go to –M–H–S“ She stood in the middle looking at a white piece of 8.5X11 piece of paper, which was her schedule and classroom addresses on it. From the outside in she looked like a lost tourist standing in the middle of a busy city starring at a map. Her big blue school bag that lay on her, back draped around her shoulders and clipped around her thin midsection didn’t help any with the look either. Tucking her fallen long blond hair behind her left ear she glanced at her schedule, looked up at the multiple hallways that looked the same to her and then back down at her schedule having to re-tuck her hair back behind her ear as it fell again distracting her from reading. Eventually she gave up and stopped a busy short black Morgansville student who whizzed by her as if he was an emergency medical technition on a mission to save a life. She looked at his chest and saw him hugging with both arms a 3-ring binder with a strip of white masking tape on it with his name written in heavy black permanent marker: Nixon L.

“Excuse me? I’m sorry I am new here,…” she spoke up, loudly but pleasantly and with a smile as she reached out and touched the boy’s arm. The boy stopped in mid stride.

He looked at her but to him she was just another student, another student in the sea of students that ran in crashing currents in the hallway trying to get to their first class of the school year, their lockers and so forth. He didn’t notice her beauty. “Oh, no problem, are you lost or something.” He guessed.

“Exactly!” Betty confirmed smiling a smile that said ‘Can you help me?’ and ‘I hate being lost!’ “I am looking for room 205.” She concluded showing him her schedule.

“Oh well, you are now on the first floor; room 205 is one floor up…” he began to explain. Betty metaphorically slapped herself in the head. She new that she was on the main floor but didn’t clue in that it is also commonly known as floor #1; the doors on the parallel walls of the hallways that were numbered 100, 102, 104 along one side and 101, 103, 105 along the other wall should have been a dead giveaway, had she paid attention; she felt stupid, of course 205 would be upstairs. She didn’t show her embarrassment though, she just hoped that Nixon would assume that it is ‘first-day-gitters’ and not judge her intelligence for it, besides it would be the truth to a degree. Betty and ‘new-things’ were enemies, they never got along. Nixon directed her with his finger down the hallway to a pair of blue painted heavy metal doors at the end and to the right that led to the staircase. With thanks and a smile Betty scampered off in the direction of the staircases. Once she knew where she was going she found room 205 very easily. She was heading for her first 12^th grade class, Philosophy.

***

Within minutes of the loud but easy on the ears, ‘ding’, indicating that by now all students should not be in the hallway, no students were in the hallway, except of course a few stragglers who were just running to be on time. In room 205 Betty found a desk in the middle-isle. The classroom was divided into two sections of desks; Betty found a desk on the left section that is left when facing to the back from the front. Each desk was a chair and desk in one. There was a big metal arm connecting her chair to her desk so there was really only one way to get in and out of the seat. Like good students, eager to learn, many of the students sat in their respective seats talking amongst themselves until their attention was directed to the teacher thus indicating ‘class has begun’. To the far right side of the front of the room was a pleasantly-plump, youngish woman with long brown hair sitting on her long desk topped imitation wood and a metal skeleton; obviously she was the teacher and that was the infamous ‘teacher’s desk’. Her smile that she gave each student as they came in the room and found a seat gave a ‘Hi’ let’s be friends’ to her. She was actually engaged into a small conversation with a group of students, 3 average looking girls and two boys. They seemed to know her more beyond being the philosophy teacher. All the students called her Mrs. Franklin, but based on this little click she seemed to have built a friendly report with many of the students, those ones at least.

Once all the students were seated Mrs. Franklin indicated to the students she was talking to, to sit down and she stood on her feet and walked to the front of the class; now the class’s attention was directed to her; like programmed robots the room was quiet and looking directly at her. The room went quiet in a split second and every student was seated, eyes forward. Betty’s mouth dropped open a little at this. At her old school in Texas such a well behaved, programmed students was a breed of student that was just unheard of. Her old school J.J.H.S (John Johnston High School- named after its founder John Johnston in 1902) was pretty average; it was a good school and she did enjoy it but it did come with its student issues. There were students who were well behaved, other’s who were not so docile and others who were down right a pain in the teacher’s neck. Needles to say this obscure Northern Canadian Ural town was from another planet or at least this school was. ‘Was all the students like this?’ she wondered.

In all the hustle and bustle before class officially began Betty never noticed it, even though it was right out in the open. There was a big white piece of paper on the blackboard. Mrs. Franklin turns her back to the class for only as long as it took to peel the tape off of the blackboard that held the paper on it. Once it was off the whole class saw what it was covering. Three words written in heavy white chalk:

Philosophy: Your Truth

At this point Betty’s stomach dropped into her bladder. “What is this?” she asked herself in the privacy of her own mind. Like her stepfather Jake Donovan, Betty and her mother Jessica were avid church goers. (One of the things that annoyed her father; he said he always felt like they thought that they were better than him because they ‘went to church’.) Betty grew up in the church and thus was taught as any good church kid did: God is the creator, Jesus died for the sins of the world and a Christian is one who has repented from their sinful ways and dedicated to follow Jesus as the son of God; who according to Scripture was ‘The way, The Truth and The life’ and that no human being of any walk of life can get to heaven except by him; and that is Him as the son of God and not a mere good man or wise teacher. These three words on the blackboard for Betty was unnerving. ‘Is this, this school’s weirdness?’ she asked herself. ‘They are so well behaved, so programmed,…’ she continued to think as she looked around at the zombies that were all of 10 minutes ago average, chitting and chatting students. ‘…is this class, school so on edge that the slightest opposition will be worse than an electoral shock?’ She isn’t accustom to picking ‘fights’ with people but she likewise isn’t accustom taking opposition lying down. If asked she would give an answer for why she believes what she does but she isn’t one to stir the pot. She is a simple girl who like simple things with a good self-esteem. Then she thought about her questions that ran through her head. '...is this class so on edge that the slightest opposition will be like the shock-wave of a nuclear bomb?' and metaphorically pinched her self, 'Come on! Well behaved students doesn't mean that they are programed robots Betty; com'on girl...' she scolded herself, '...get to know them first before you label them little cult followers!'

“Welcome to Philosophy: 201. What is Philosophy?” Mrs. Franklin rhetorically asked. “Philosophy is a funny word and quite frankly hard to define, so instead of using this word, let’s use another word: Worldview. What is a worldview? Hint….” She said with a smile and zeal. Betty is captured by this woman, it is clear that she loves teaching this subject, her passion just oozes out of her and she is also very good at teaching it too, so far at least. “…the answer is in the word: worldview. Can anyone guess what it means?” She asks and waits for answers.

1 second, 2 seconds, 3 seconds of silence goes by; Mrs. Franklin figured she wasn’t going to get any answers so she began to give the answer when a hand popped up of young pretty Indian girl who sat adjacent to Betty across the isle that separated the two sections if chairs. She was heavy-set; she wore her long black hair in a braid and was dressed in a pretty deep purple Gagra choli, a traditional dress worn by women in Northern India. With a smile and happiness for participation Mrs. Franklin points at this young lady.

“Yes, Aafreen.”   

Aafreen spoke very good English, clearly she was a natural Canadian, or at least born in North America. “It’s how you view your life, in how you do things, and believe and…” Aafreen answered. Mrs. Franklin heavily nodded to confirm Aafreen’s answer.

“Yes, very good Aafreen! A worldview is how you ‘view’, there is that first word, the ‘World.’ A worldview is how you look at the world around you. Having a philosophical system or a worldview is prudent to knowing how to live and make the right choices for your life. Now notice what I have written here…” Mrs. Franklin explains, then directs the classes attention to the board with the three words.

“Philosophy: “YOUR…” she said then enunciated the word ‘YOUR’ as to say what it intended to sound like: ‘Yours, not mine, your view’  “…view.” She finishes off.  And of course the equal opposite of this phrase ‘Mine, not your view, Mine’ is implied. “Everyone has their own worldview because everyone has their own life. Different people have different lives, therefore we all have different situations that are unique and thus have different solutions. Your view shapes you and your view is right for you.

This semester we will learn about different ways people throughout the years have looked the world and life in general must be willing to listen and keep an open mind. You may not agree with a view, may it be one a view of the ancient ‘Greek dead-guys’…” she said comically with a smile referring to any of the famous Greek philosophers such as Plato or Socrates. “…or the person sitting next to you.” She said, paused, then carried on. “But that is okay. You are not Plato for an example, you are living thousands of years a head of his time, in a different culture in a different world that quite frankly a world that Plato couldn’t have imagined with all the laptops and cell phones running a'muck. Therefore no logical person can’t expect you agree with him. Plato’s views were great for Plato.” She ended; then with a deep breath she started up again.

“However you could agree with the views of Plato or Socrates or, the person next to you, of which is of course great! Your view, your life! Start seeing a trend here? This course aims to bring you down the wonderful world of ideas and allow you and ‘ENCOURAGE’…” Franklin emphasizes.  “…you to pick the view that best suits your unique life.” Now Mrs. Franklin is almost dancing she is so ‘into’ her lecture. “How you view the world will shape your life. I want to see you have a great life where you are happy and you can greet each day of your life with love in your heart.” She said with loud passion and zeal. With a pant she picks up… “Now here are the ground rules for this course this semester.” She said.

'Ground rules?' Betty thought. Betty sat patiently egger to hear what is about to come next. She agreed that no one has to believe what another person says, after all everyone is entitled to believe what they want, but her gut told her that it isn’t that cut and dry. ‘Don’t tell the truth!’ she wondered and dreaded and then thought, ‘that’s kind of impossible. – unless you want to tell a lie’, but simple logic states you have to do either one or the other. She remembered a term that her Sunday school teacher taught her class back in Texas. Mr. Joseph was teaching that Jesus said that he is God and thus Jesus either is God or is not God; one or the other and then he gave a word: ‘non-, non- conciel…no contra…’ she thought. ‘Ah…forgot!’ She returned to the present day, to her present lesson and refocused her attention to Mrs. Franklin and just waited to hear what her happy and hyper teacher as to say.

“I want all of you to participate; I want to hear your view. Ground rule #1: No laughing at another person’s view.” She said. Betty couldn’t agree with her more. “Ground rule #2; no saying that they are wrong.” Betty’s heart jumps. ‘But what if they are wrong?’ she asks her self, but kept it to her self and just listened to the next rule if there were more to come; and sure enough…”And lastly rule #3: No claiming that you are right.” Betty’s heart and stomach traded places, again she asked in the privacy of her own mind: ‘what if someone is right?’

Franklin continues. “Remember…” she said. “…each of you is unique with a unique life. No person has the right to tell another that the choices they make for their unique life with their unique circumstances is not right nor claim victory of ‘truth’ with regards to their life and circumstances.” She explains and then stops to take a breath. She then starts up again with a big inhale. “Now you may be thinking what about that word ‘truth’. There is such thing as ‘truth’ but it is personal. There is no such thing a main truth, that is as it relates to your worldview. When talking about your life, your worldview there is only ‘My Truth’. Remember that distinction: Main truth – objective and My-Truth, subjective. Does anyone know what 'objective truth' and 'subjective truth' means?" she asked. No raised hands, just blank stairs."Objective truth is something that is true that you can not argue with; this is because it is true. However subjective truth is truth that is objective, but only for you. Your decisions are factually right for you, but only for you." She explained.

Betty listened to this and thought. 'So choices for me are not choices for you? So what if my choice is to impose a view onto you - break ground rule number 2 and thus by virtue break rule number 3' is that objectively true because it is a choice that pertains to me?' A headache started to form in the back of her head and her eyes started to squint, not because of being unable to see anything physical, but rather trying to find rationality in Mrs. Franklin's contradicting views. Now she know what her Aunt June must feel like once in a while; Betty's Aunt Dr. June Johansson was a psychiatrist back home in Texas. Betty figured that she has the wide variety of patients from people who suffer from clinical depression to total wackos or Mrs. Franklins who live in a world that breaks the ...'Law of Noncontradiction!' "That's it!" Betty blurted out loud; not loud but it was enough to interrupt Mrs. Franklin.

"What's that Ms., Ms.?" she said in mid stride both physically and verbally as she looked at Betty. The class didn't hear Betty but since Mrs. Franklin's attention was drawn onto her so was the classes. 'That is what my Sunday school teacher Mr. Joseph taught us.' Betty thought and then noticed the 40+ eyes staring at her. Betty didn't even hear Mrs. Franklin trying to get her name until she realized that she was the center of attention.

"What?" Betty said with an embarrased smile and a clueless look.

"You blurted out 'That's it'" Mrs. Franklin informed. Betty's blood rose as she didn't know she had said it out loud. "What's 'it'?" Mrs. Franklin demanded to know.

"Ahh, oh, nothing, I was just thinking of something. Never mind, sorry for interrupting!" Betty responded hoping that would end it and redirect the attention back onto the classroom.

Franklin looked at Betty with unimpressed eyes. "Fine, okay then, stop thinking young lady, let me do that for you. You just listen, okay?" she said now with a smile but also with a tone of voice that said 'I mean it!'.

'Stop thinking, let me do that for you - I may be not to far off with my 'programmed cultist' judgement' Betty thought feeling at disease for being put on the spot and for a more confirmed queerness that is this class, or possibly school. 'You and I are going to have problems Mrs. Franklin' Betty thought and did a double check on her voice to make sure that she didn't blurt that out also; she didn't. She had no intentions of being a thorn in her teacher's side, but she wasn't going to be a 'welcome mat' either, welcoming all teaching hook, line and sinker, for one last idiom.

Mrs. Franklin was well trained. She was able to pick up her lesson right where she left off. "The only main truths – objective truths in this world boys and girls is science."

The headache in Betty's optical loeb got greater. 'Wait didn't just say that my worldview is also objective, objective for me and not for you, but objective? Does that mean that if my worldview is in line with science that it is objective, like, objecitve? Or is my worldview scientifc?' Thank goodness that Mrs. Franklin doens't have telepathy, I'd be in big trouble! I have violated ground rule's 2 and 3 about 10 times thus far. - Man!' Betty thought. 'A ball of Christmas lights that has been tossed into a box and left for 20 years in an attic corner is easier to untangle than this woman's psyche'.

Without being aware of Betty's mental counter arguments to her lesson Mrs. Franklin carried on. "Gravity for an example will always pull you to the ground. You may not believe that, but it will do so regardless of your view. However we are not talking about ‘the world’ – an object, we are talking about a ‘worldview’, more specifically your worldview and you shaping your worldview. Your view isn’t an object so it can’t be objectively true, now can it?” she asks sounding like any other answer than ‘yes of course’ would be the answer that Mr. and Mrs. McLoonybin, (emphasizing on the word ‘Loony’) would give. She carries on. “The aspects of your worldview can only be ‘subjectively’ true. - This passionate lecture lasted 25 minutes and every minute almost has flown in the face of everything Betty learned and believed to be fact. And Betty just amazed, looked around the room of glued eyeballs to the front of the room. 'This is just complicated! Therefore it must be right.'' she thought that they were thinking and not being aware that this is not complicated at all, that is in spite of her headache telling her otherwise. 'It is quite simple to understand. It is simply the biggest load of postmodern junk that 25 minutes has ever seen.' she thought to her self.  

Then a fleeting dought entered her mind. 'Is it possible that Mrs. Franklin is right?' she wonders '...and I have been taught simplicity? Is there more to this than what I have been taught?' Then her eyebrows scrunched in confusion. “But wait…” she clues in. “…Mrs. Franklin can’t teach this with ferver lest she break rule #3. She can’t claim to be right without claiming victory of truth.” Betty sat in her chair staring at her teacher; just staring. She didn’t know what to do or think or even if she should lest she break unsaid rule #4 "No thinking!" 'How am I going to deal with this?' She wonders. 'I wonder, irioncally is 'wondering the same thing as thinking?'" Now her headache has turned full throttel. 'If I agree with this out loud I will get in trouble. I am hear to learn but I don't want to enter college or university a zombie. Could Mrs. Franklin fail me?' Betty wondered. “God please help me!” she prayed in her mind. She looked around her at the other students and saw that everyone of them was happy and enticed by the lecture. She was the only one that, she got at least, was uneasy about what the last twenty-five minutes as delivered.

Mrs. Franklin’s lecture turned Betty’s day upside down. And it only had just begun. She sat at her desk looking at this woman who has just broke her own class rules by telling us what the truth was, namely rule number 3. Betty was ready to leave this class. She glanced down at her desk-top to see her schedule. She reached up and adjusted its angle on her desk so she could read what class she had next: English Literature.

‘I wonder if Mr. Brooke is just a off his rocker as Mrs. Franklin is?’ she wondered. ‘What will he teach us? Words and sentences don’t have factual structure? Words can be spelt based on Subjective truth?’

However her worries were all for nothing; in Mr. Brooks English class there was a skeleton of truth, in sum the word ‘English’ was spelt ‘E.N.G.L.I.S.H’ and not ‘E.N.L.I.H.S’, etc. In Science 101, Darwinian Evolution was taught but that wasn’t a big surprise. Sir Chucky Darwin has soured North American education all across the board. She was used to him. But other than Philosophy with Mrs. (Wingnut) Franklin the rest of school went okay.

***

Back home in Texas, she lived about a 40 minute bus ride to school. Now she practically is living at her new School; 2 right turns and she is there; Morgansville High School is all of perhaps a 15 minute walk from her new Morgansville home. Betty turned right at the end of her driveway and walked about 3 minutes down Stallman St. to the cornr of Stallman and Backroads Ave. She turned right on Backroads Ave. and began a 12 minuit walk down this countryroad. Hardly any cars drive down this road and there are two wheat fields on both sides, no houses. There are a couple of farm houses that can be seen deep down the fields but that is about it.

The short sleeves of Betty’s white T-Shirt protruded from underneath the thick straps of her light blue school bag. The cuffs of her blue jeans were covered in dust from the sidewalk as they covered her shoes. Walking aimlessly but fairly in straight line, Betty just soaked up the sun on her face and bare arms with a smile.

“Scvscvscv”

Betty’s sunbathe walk was interrupted as her heart jumped at a sound from within the long strands of wheat on her side of the road. She pivoted quickly on her toes getting thrown of balance as her school back followed through with its flinging. She did a double step to counter the physics that played on her schoolbag and faced in the opposite direction from where she was walking and looked at the Wheat field. She stayed quiet, holding her breath.

“Scvscvscv”

“She fearfully inhaled a little more air into her lungs and just held it at the second bout of sound. ‘What is that?’ she wondered. Then she started to think rationally. ‘Okay, it’s a field, a farmer’s wheat field. What can you find in a farmer’s wheat field?’ she tried to force her self to think rationally. – squirrels, rabbits – the farmer doing farming.’ Betty just stood there as quiet as she could for another minute; nothing was heard again. After convincing herself that it was just nature being nature, it could have simply been the wind blowing the wheat stocks she also concluded as a possibility she let the air out of her lungs and forced her body to relax, as much as it could. Once she concluded that it was safe to continue her walk to school she turn around and walked forward.

The pain of the blade piercing her belly shot up her spine. Tears ran down her face as it contorted to express the pain. It was only about 30 seconds before she felt weak from blood-loss. She fell forwards into the left shoulder of her assailant. 30 more seconds slowly inched by and by now she was being held up by the blade that peirced her gut. When she kissed his shoulder he leaned into her ear and whispered something in her ear.

“Your schoolbag says Jesus is real. I don’t believe that. You are telling me I am wrong. This offends me. You are in violation of ground rule number 2.” Her assailant whispered in her ear.

The pain in her gut got dull as things around her got dark and cold. His voice sounded young, no more than someone of her age. Her last thought: He must have been in my class.

See: Tying in the heavenly message

Tying in the heavenly message

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Betty's first day of school: No rational person would take the notion of ‘subjective truth’ is objective truth as far as this mystery murderer has done. However Betty in this story even though wasn’t overt like the prophets of the Old Testament or for an example from the New Testament, the Apostle Paul, but she did ware her faith on her sleeve (or on her bag in her case). We are called to go forth and be a represenatave for Jesus in everything we do. (cf. 1st Corinthians 10:31)

This doesn’t mean that every word you speak has to be about sin, or salvation, or Jesus’ death and resurrection, etc. When you go to work, talk work. When you go to school, talk school and when you go to do your groceries, talk groceries, etc. However ensure that when you do this, people can see that there is something different about you.

As I said today, in most civilized countries you can talk ‘faith’ without being hurt or even legally punished (jailed for an example). But this doesn’t mean that opposition will not come your way. It will. Jesus said. “You will be hated by everyone because of me, but the one who stands firm to the end will be saved.” – Matthew 10:22. But blessed “…are those who are persecuted because of righteousness, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.” – Matthew 5:10 Lastly do “…not be afraid of those who kill the body but cannot kill the soul. Rather, be afraid of the One who can destroy both soul and body in hell.” – Matthew 10:28

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Evolution: This story isn’t to suggest that every evil desire of your heart is going to land you in prison or worse. Nor is it the intent to say that all who venture into these additions that they will be internally corrupted by them so that they run one's life. However take note that addiction is an evolving entity and it isn’t limited to drugs, or alcohol abuse, or pornography as it was with Todd. Scripture tells us:

“Put to death, therefore, whatever belongs to your earthly nature: sexual immorality, impurity, lust, evil desires and greed, which is idolatry.” (vs. 5) “…also rid yourselves of all such things as these: anger, rage, malice, slander, and filthy language from your lips.(vs. 8)” – Col. 3:5, 8

Being addicted to rage, or slandering, course language, course joking, greed, etc. is just as possible and just as deadly. That is deadly to one's social view and possibly addictions to these things could engulf one's entire worldview.

Moreover, Peter states that “…it is better, if it is God’s will, to suffer for doing good than for doing evil.” – 1^st Peter 3:17. Paul tells us that “…the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, forbearance, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness and self-control. Against such things there is no law.” – Gal. 5:22-23. Paul also tells us “…whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is of good repute, if there is any excellence and if anything worthy of praise, dwell on these things.” – Philippians 4:8 (NASV) Notice the word ‘dwell’; this word doesn’t mean to say ‘consider’ like in the phrase “consider what I have to say.” Paul is telling us to dwell or concentrate on whatever is true, honorable, righteous etc. When you do this you your mind will be to busy to get side tracked.

What is pure and right and honorable?

This is a great question. Here are two examples:

1) God’s creation. The wonders of God’s creation with the beautiful valleys, mountains, animals, plants, etc. is a great thing to keep your mind busy thinking about. However God’s creation isn’t to replace God. Dwell on God by keeping your mind on what is seeable.

2) Loving your fellow creation. Doing good to others is a great thing to dwell on. It is good to dwell on the desire to help and serve than to hinder and hurt so to satisfy an unexplainable desire. Lastly Scripture tells us that the sin affected heart is so evil that the human mind cannot understand why it loves what it loves. (cf. Jer. 17:9) Ergo it is best to not try to wrap your mind around it; instead don’t give sin and its complexities the time of day. Instead concentrate on what is praiseworthy and lovely.