Author Archives: Paul Steven Stone

AMERICA’S TREASON TWINS

America’s Treason Twins: (Above: John Brown, below: Donald J. Trump)

HE WAS CHARGED WITH TREASON.

HE WAS CHARGED WITH MURDER.

HIS FOLLOWERS ATTACKED A U.S. GOVERNMENT FACILITY.

HE WAS CHARGED WITH LEADING AN INSURRECTION.

HE WAS FOUND GUILTY.

33 DAYS LATER, HE WAS HANGED.

JOHN BROWN did not conspire to overthrow the government of the United States; DONALD J. TRUMP’s multi-pronged conspiracy attempted to overturn the results of a free and fair election, and thus overthrow America’s duly elected government.

JOHN BROWN did not launch baseless attacks against election results in a single state; DONALD J. TRUMP’s false electors scheme attempted to nullify fairly recorded and certified votes in seven states.

JOHN BROWN’s rebellion was launched to free slaves and end slavery in the United States. DONALD J. TRUMP’s rebellion was launched to hold onto power and install himself as president for a second term.

JOHN BROWN was found guilty, and hung for his crimes 33 days after the verdict.

DONALD J. TRUMP has yet to be tried, and is still allowed his freedom from which he continues to spread malicious lies and propaganda, fomenting violence and political malfeasance.

JOHN BROWN’s body (as the poem goes) lies a-mouldering in his grave, no longer a threat to anyone.

DONALD J. TRUMP’s lies are alive and still free to corrupt, corrode and threaten our democracy. 

FROM THE MAR-A-LAGO DAILY MENU

With sincere regrets, owing to supply chain shortages, we can no longer serve the following:

MAMA TRUMP’S NUCLEAR STEW

A longtime favorite of our foreign visitors, Mama Trump’s Nuclear Stew has been permanently placed among the items removed per order of the U.S. Government. Once served with a choice of three spicy varieties: Top Secret, Forbidden Fruits and Insanely Dangerous with Nuts, this favorite dish of Vladimir Putin and Kim Jong Un, will happily reappear on the Mar-A-Lago menu once the Trump family returns to occupy the White House. 

HUNTER BIDEN BULLSHIT ON TOAST

Imagine our surprise to discover we had run out of the essential ingredients for this Trump family favorite, once the mainstay of our domestic menu. Again, like Mama Trump’s Nuclear Stew, Hunter Biden Bullshit on Toast requires ingredients no longer available once the United States Government interfered with supply line deliveries from Ukraine and China. 

THE RUDY GIULIANI SANDWICH

A delectable menu item once thought to render large rooms of legislators and reporters speechless after even the smallest bite. Made from forked tongue and stinky cheese streaked with Rudy’s special Four Seasons Sauce, the Rudy Giuliani is expected to return to our menu whenever Rudy’s prison sentence can be set aside in a future Trump Administration.

Again, we apologize for the removal of these once highly popular and profitable menu items. Their removal is further proof, if you need it, that the FBI is running amok over our freedoms and that Joe Biden is a dribbling old man who craps his pants whenever called upon to act decisively. VOTE REPUBLICAN AND VOTE TWICE. That’s the only way we can MAKE AMERICA CRAZY AGAIN.

QUESTIONS AND ANSWERS IN AN ALTERNATE UNIVERSE

When outrage knows no bounds.

Paul Steven Stone: Minority Leader McCarthy, your outrage over the FBI warrant to search Mar-A-Lago led to threats against Attorney General Garland and the entire Justice Department should your party retake the majority in the House. Is that correct?

MCCARTHY: Yes, so what?

PSS: How would you compare that outrage to the outrage you exhibited when President Trump sent thousands of angry and armed rioters to the Capitol on June 6th, putting your life and the lives of others at risk? Please rate them on a scale of 1-10, ten being the highest state of outrage?

MCCARTHY: The protest at the capitol; I’d rate that a 2 on the outrage scale. But only because the protesters scared the living shit out of my staff. 

PSS: And the FBI serving a warrant to search Mar-A-Lago?

MCCARTHY: That’s a ten all the way. It’s totally unprecedented in the annals of American history.

PSS: But don’t you think the failed attempt to overthrow the duly elected American government—a failed coup if you will—was also unprecedented?

MCCARTHY: Why don’t you ask me about Hillary Clinton or Hunter Biden? You liberals are all the same with your effen questions! Clinton and Biden committed crimes, but nobody raids their homes or sics FBI bullies on them. 

PSS: We’d be happy to talk about Hillary Clinton or Hunter Biden at another time. For now, we’re just interested in why your outrage dropped precipitously once the danger at the capitol passed and you had sufficient time to slow your hammering heart?

MCCARTHY: Doesn’t time often bring wisdom?

PSS: Or political recalculation… But let’s move on.… Up till now, the House Select Committee investigating the events of January 6th has conspicuously avoided talking about the 155 members of Congress who voted to reject the electoral votes from different states, thereby impeding the count and giving rioters time to break in and disrupt the proceedings. Wouldn’t you say those 155 individuals—147 Congressmen and eight Senators, to be precise—were aiding and abetting the President’s failed coup? Either willfully or unwittingly? 

MCCARTHY: NO!

PSS: No? Why No?

MCCARTHY: Because I haven’t agreed there ever was a coup in the first place. 

PSS: What would you call it?

MCCARTHY: An Antifa protest that got out of control. Or else a false flag operation by the Democratic Party. I thought I saw Chuck Schumer carrying a Black Lives Matter sign before I hid under my desk. Could have been a lot of things, not just a failed coup. 

PSS: But what if it was a failed coup?

MCCARTHY: You’ll know it’s a failed coup when you see my outrage meter climb all the way to five.

DUMP THE TRUMP SLOWLY

Did you raise your banner high?

TELL ME, DOES THE BATTLE GO APACE,

Did you stop all abortions, and

Put women back in their place

Did you raise your banner high above 

The battle-scarred field of play

Did you kiss the golden statue’s ass

For another four years did you pray?

OH HOW YOU TORE DOWN SACRED PILLARS

And the mightiest of yews,

Desecrate all monuments and statues

Never dedicated to you

Did you kiss the golden ass, tear up 

Hallowed Constitutions too

Did you dump the Trump too slowly

Before the Trump could dump on you?

DUMP THE TRUMP SLOWLY, PAY THE PIPER SURELY

To jail be returning, from jail does he call

No longer a proud boy, so much a mere loud boy

Watch the Earth drop away 

From beneath your patriot’s ground

Above and below you, 

A world without sound.

DID YOU ANSWER THE CALL TO MOB UP AND RIOT

Did you heed his lies, each one did you buy it

Are you facing a life looking scary and cold

With a future in prison long after you’re old

Did you Dump the Trump too slowly

Did you close your eyes too late

Now the Trump is dumping you

Not for a moment wIll he hesitate.

DUMP THE TRUMP SLOWLY, PAY THE PIPER SURELY

You politicians, sycophants and liars without end

Your party is over, your elephant sadly dead

No longer worth a vote, your honor surely fled

Watch the Earth drop away 

From beneath your patriot’s ground

Above and below you, 

A world without sound.

DID YOU DUMP THE TRUMP TOO SLOWLY

Did you close your eyes too late

Now the Trump is dumping you

Not for a moment will he hesitate.

THE RESURRECTION OF 11-YEAR-OLD CHILDREN

Somewhere long ago he was once a child. 

His world was a child’s world where adults towered over the landscape in a wondrous sort of mute majesty and rarely slowed down to listen to children.

Somewhere long ago he was a blueprint of the man he might one day become. A youthful creature brimming with untested strengths and unexplored depths. But he was also small, needful and, most of all, vulnerable. He had to trust that the giants in his world would provide for his needs. That they would nourish and care for him, and keep him safe from harm.

Somewhere long ago he was once a child. And as a child he saw the world through an innocent’s eyes. So, when an adult in that world, a parish priest, rose up like a menacing shadow to darken his life, he could only fall back on his limited experience to understand what was happening. 

And there was no understanding. 

There was only a child lost in confusion and fear. A child deeply hurt and frightened. A child surrounded by people but engulfed by a sense of isolation. A child who felt guilty rather than victimized, as if by questioning the actions of a priest—a man as close to God as any mortal could come—he himself had done something wrong. 

Somewhere long ago he was once a child and used a child’s logic to order his world. Thus, when he learned he could no longer trust adults to keep him safe, he did what he must to survive. He created boxes in his mind. Boxes to hold those things that frightened or angered or confused him. Boxes he could keep hidden. Hidden from the world, hidden from the priests, even hidden from himself. 

In one box he placed his anger at his parents for not protecting him. In another he placed the memory of the innocence that had been taken from him. In yet another box, he placed his fear of intimacy, having seen what happens when you allow someone to come too close. 

And in the largest box of all he placed himself, an eleven- year-old boy frozen in time. It was the only safe harbor the child would know. 

Many years later the boy had grown into a man, and the boxes which had been buried in the darkness of his memory began to fall apart like broken dresser drawers. They would spill out their hazardous contents at the oddest moments. When he found himself standing outside a church. When he noticed how vulnerable his children seemed while asleep. When people who thought they knew him, told him how lucky he was to have the gifts he’d been given. Or whenever he felt threatened or frightened, like a little child hiding in a grownup’s body.

For many years those leaking boxes and their toxic seepage dominated the man’s life. They undermined his most intimate relationships, they kept him running from job to job, they sent him searching for relief in alcohol, drugs and an endless succession of mindless distractions. Worst of all, they unleashed on those he loved the pent-up fury of a rage that had been burning for most of his life. 

Sitting there on the TV screen, somewhere on the other side of the continent, he talks to a reporter about his painful past and why, after all these years, he is finally confronting his demons and opening up his boxes. He is one of a number of men who are forcing the Catholic Church to face up to a pattern of almost bestial behavior by some of its priests. Forcing the church to acknowledge it had condoned crimes any civilized society would condemn as savage and depraved. 

He is one of many such men who, like the lost boys of Neverland, never lived out their boyhoods but instead placed themselves, frozen in time, in their own inner boxes. And now the boxes are being open. The victims are telling their stories. 

The healing has begun.

And the church, perhaps, is being dragged from its own peculiar set of closed and darkly hidden boxes.

But as he sits there at his kitchen table holding his five-year -old daughter in an unconscious protective embrace, I see more on the TV screen than the angry victim, the outraged reformer and the loving father. 

I see the man whose blueprint—once tragically unrealized—was now coming to life. Resurrected after all those lost years. Hopefully to blossom, even with all the discovery and pain that still lay ahead.

For that blueprint, too, had been hidden inside a box. 

Waiting for years in darkness. 

Waiting to be uncovered and brought back to life.

Waiting for an eleven-year-old boy to whisper it was now safe to come out and play.



From “How To Train A Rock” by Paul Steven Stone, ©2009 Paul Steven Stone. It is somewhat sad and amazing to realize I had first written this essay in 2002 and yet today so much still remains to be uncovered, and the Catholic Church is still being dragged unwilliongly to a place of acceptance and grudging reform. It has been many years since public reporting on the church’s shameless culture of complicity and elitism. A culture that allowed hundreds of priests to prey like vampires upon thousands of helpless children across the vast expanse of decades and continents.