How Can This Happen?
November 9, 2026 Leave a comment
A Sunday night phone call ended my homicide-free weekend at home with my best girl.
“Roy, Captain Moritz. Remember Garrett Haney, the kid you put away for murder four years ago?”
“Yeah, sure.”
“He escaped from Howard Correctional tonight. Walked out and breached the perimeter fence. I asked warden Rogers if Haney had help. He said he talked to Haney’s cellmate and that guy didn’t know or wouldn’t say.
“But Haney’s cellmate did say that Haney had talked in detail about two other women he killed. Sargent Grasso has the transcript of that conversation. He’ll follow-up.
“Roy, Haney’s cellmate also said Haney talked about taking out the only guy who could stop him from killing again. He’s coming for you, Roy. He’s stolen a KIA and is likely headed to Center City. I’ll put a couple of officers in an unmarked car out front of your place.”
The call ended. I went to the kitchen, made coffee, and breached the perimeter of my quiet Sunday reverie to recall the monster’s case file.
Twenty-eight-year-old Garrett Haney was serving a life sentence for the first-degree murder of Missy Longstreet and her unborn child. She had been strangled and then stabbed multiple times. He also been found guilty of burglary, vandalism, and tampering with evidence.
Last I knew, Haney had a sister in Center City and a few friends who might aid and abet the predator this round. Killers return to what they know. The killer’s coming home. Now he’s mine.
I kept my Glock 19 and my two-way at my side. And Laci.
~~~
Monday morning. Missy Longstreet’s parents are waiting for me at the station. They had seen the news reports about Haney’s escape and were “absolutely horrified.”
“We turn on the news this morning and the headline is “Murderer Slips Through Prison Fence.”
“How on earth can this happen, detective? How could the man who brutally murdered our daughter and our grandchild, the man you put away for life, slip through a fence and run free?”
What could I say? Howard Correctional had failed them just like it failed the parents of the savagely murdered Colleen Sumner when it botched the execution of her murderer just a few months before.
Old wounds were reopened. If Haney wasn’t apprehended soon, there would be new wounds. I assured them that a statewide manhunt was underway and that Center City PD has an APB on him.
“He’s coming here?”
“He has people here, so it’s possible.”
What the Longstreet’s hadn’t seen was the lab report Sarge put on my desk before I sat down with the distraught parents. Forensics confirmed that Haney was tied to two rapes and murders.
The women had disappeared five years ago. But with the details from Haney’s cellmate, their bodies were uncovered in a wood thirty miles outside the city. With the DNA evidence, the cases could be brought to court and the relatives of the victims could be told about their loved ones.
~~~
Detective Barrows and Detective Morrow waited in an unmarked car outside Haney’s sister’s apartment in case her brother showed up. I showed up to remind Tammy Haney of a few things if he did show up.
Her low-rent tenement apartment was in a broken-window neighborhood on the south side. I knew the place. It had daily visits from CCPD. It was a known hangout for drug-traffickers, gun-runners, and lowlifes of every sort. It was a convenient hideout for parasitic types and a half-way house for those on their way back to prison.
I grabbed Detective Barrows from the surveillance car and we headed up to the apartment. You never know what you might encounter. As we headed up to the third floor, there was a “Psst!” We looked below and saw a hand on the first floor waving us to come down. The hand belonged to a rickety old man in robe.
“What’s up?” I asked.
“I saw the guy, the one in the news, the one who escaped. You know the one?”
“Yes, we do. When did you see him?”
“He was here this morning. Early. He was one of the movers.”
“Movers?” I looked at Detective Barrows. “Movers?”
“We saw the truck early this morning. Seen it before in this neighborhood. Didn’t think anything was up. They left ten minutes later. It looked like they were heading to their next move.”
“At least you got the last part right.”
I turned to the old guy. “Tell me about these movers.”
“I’m the building manager, you see.” He pointed to the sign behind him on the door. “I notice when people move. Some like to skip out on rent payments. I heard the moving truck pull up. It screeched to a stop. When they came in, I asked if they were there to move someone. They said they were there to pick up a contract. I told them I’m the building manager and had no word of anyone moving.”
“What did they say?”
“They said 315 was planning on moving next month and they needed a signed contract. I knew nothing about 315 moving. I’d look into that later. And that’s when I saw him. The guy who escaped.”
“Describe him.”
“I’d say he’s about five feet eleven, 240lbs, with green eyes, and brown hair with a baby face.”
“Is that what you saw this morning in the hallway or what you got from the TV?”
“Both. And he was the one talking. That Haney guy in the photos.”
“What was he wearing?”
“He was wearing a tee shirt with Backstreet Movers on it. And a ball cap. The four of them went upstairs and came back down ten minutes later. The guy carried a bag out. Then they took off.”
“You sure it was him?”
“Yes sir.”
“Why didn’t you call us?”
“Well, after they left, I went back to bed. When I got up, I turned on the TV and there he was. I told my wife that I was going to call but she saw you show up.”
I thanked him and we headed up to apartment 313. I knocked on the door and heard a door shut, a TV go off and a child crying. I knocked again and said “Police, probation check.”
Tammy Haney opened the door and looked over the door chain. Her pinpoint eyes with dark circles under them and the facial scabs ID-ed her as an addict. She undid the chain and let me into her domain.
“Tammy, I’m Detective Winder. This is Detective Barrows. Have you heard from your brother?”
“I heard he escaped.” Tammy scratched her scrawny arms.
“Have you heard from your brother?” I asked again.
“No, I . . .”
“Here’s the thing Tammy. You are on probation for a first-time non-violent misdemeanor. If you associate with your brother, a known felon, it would be a violation of your probation. Consequences could include extending the probation period, imposing additional penalties, or even revoking probation entirely, which may lead to you serving a prison sentence and your two-year old going into child protective services, as you are a single mother.
“A conviction stays on your record for a long time, Tammy, unless it can be expunged and that’s a big “If.” A conviction affects your job future. But if you keep your nose clean and successfully complete the probation, charges will be dropped. And, if you cooperate in apprehending your brother, it would go in your favor with the court. You’re eighteen. Those are your trade-offs. That’s your fork in the road.
“So, I ask again, Tammy. Have you heard from your brother?”
“Garrett was here this morning. For ten minutes.”
“What time was that?”
“I think it was 4 this morning. We were in bed.”
The bedroom door opened and a diapered boy came running into the room.
“What did your brother want?”
“He said he came to pick up a bag he left here.”
“What was in the bag?”
“I dunno. A gun maybe and a phone, and some cash.”
“Where is he?”
“He said he couldn’t tell me where he’s going. The police would be all over me, he said.”
“Any idea where he might go?”
“No.”
“Was he with anyone?”
“Joey and Frank, his friends. I don’t know the other guy. They called him “Gore”.”
“Describe him.”
“He’s big. Looks like one of those pro wrestling guys that Garrett likes.”
“What do you know about Backstreet Movers?”
“Joey and Frank own it.”
I wrote down the names and gave Tammy my card. I told her to call me if Garrett contacts her. I also gave her a contact at a rehab center. The center could provide child care for her son while she got help. She needed to give up the habit for herself and her child. Another tradeoff and fork in the road for her.
We went outside and I gave my unhappy talk to Detective Morrow sitting in the unmarked car.
“Your buddy Barrows found out that Garrett paid a visit to his sister disguised as a mover. He’s taken off again in the moving truck. You two stay here and do more than drink coffee and eat pizza.”
Back in my car, I called Sarge to have him put out an APB for the moving truck. Five hours later, it was located with street cameras. It parked outside a warehouse. The Backstreet Movers were inside playing poker. The stolen KIA was sitting in a parking lot near the warehouse.
Joey, Frank, and the big lug Kurt Gorman were brought to the station to be questioned about their role in Garrett’s escape and run from the law.
Each of them played dumb for ten minutes until I told them that prosecutors view providing shelter, transportation, or other assistance that facilitates continued evasion, aka harboring a fugitive, as a serious obstruction of justice. They each could face both federal and state charges depending on what they have done and what Garret does. Cooperation with the police would be in their best interest.
Joey stated that Garrett showed up Sunday night and said he got paroled. He wanted to go see his sister but didn’t want to draw attention to himself. There were people, he said, who had bad feelings toward him.
Joey stated that he called Frank and “Gore” to come along. They had some moving to do later that morning.
Frank and “Gore” confirmed the story in separate interviews. I confirmed to them that Garret hadn’t been paroled and that he was armed and dangerous. If they heard from him, they were to call me immediately or face obstruction charges. I let them go hoping Garrett would contact them.
~~~
As of Thursday morning, there were no reports of Haney’s capture. But there was a report of a news media van outside my house. Laci called and said the two officers who were watching our house were trying to get the media off the front lawn but they weren’t getting anywhere.
“How can this happen?” Laci asked.
“They must have gotten my name from court transcripts. I don’t know how they got hold of my address.”
I wasn’t worried about Laci. I had given her firearms training. But I was worried about all the bad guys I locked up and their brothers knowing where I lived.
I told the Sarge and he told Captain Moritz. Sarge came back ten minutes later saying the media van was gone. Moritz had called the station manager and reamed him a good one. He told the idiot that Haney had threatened the life of one of his detectives and he wasn’t going to let that happen for some here-today-gone-tomorrow news product. If word ever got out about his detective’s location, his media goons would not get invited to another police press conference.
Then Sarge told me of a robbery at a small bank thirty miles east of the city and across state lines.
“Surveillance video shows an armed man coming in just before closing and bagging a large amount of cash. The man is covered head-to-toe in camo and matches the height and weight of Haney. He then steals a Lincoln MKZ from the parking lot. A short time later, the car is found abandoned on State Road 20. The sheriff’s office launched a drone and K9 search but did not find the suspect.”
Sarge continued. “As of today, Haney is on the state’s most wanted list. The state, the FBI, and the U.S. Marshals Service have increased the reward for information leading to Haney’s arrest to $15,000.
“Haney will continue to do what he does, Roy, because anything else is not Haney. Psychopaths like him will continue to disregard the law and exploit others for personal gain. They’ve blotted out their conscience and lack the human capacity to identify pain in others.”
“He’s a feral cur.”
“Worse. “There is no folly of the beast of the earth which is not infinitely outdone by the madness of man.” Herman Meliville. Moby Dick.”
~~~
My first interview with Haney came about when I brought him in for the rape and murder of the pregnant Missy Longstreet. He had been cunning but I was more cunning. And I had help from the Good Book: “Be sure your sin will find you out.”
Sitting across from me in the interview room, Haney came across as easy to get along with. He knew how to make things look normal and acceptable on the outside.
He had this cloying charm about him. I could see how the baby-faced Haney could easily charm women and get them to coddle him. He was willing to manipulate, con, and exploit others for personal gain and do so without guilt.
But he didn’t charm me. And, I didn’t need a forensic psychologist and a history of his childhood to know that a callous psychopath was sitting across from me. Just how coldhearted he was, I would find out later with the report of the two raped and murdered women.
When I showed him pictures of Missy’s mutilated body, I asked “How could this happen?”
“That’s what I do.”
Haney spoke in a clinical, left-brain detached way. There was no emotion in his voice. There was a knowing smirk on his face showing me that he was pleased with his transaction of rape and murder. Haney felt entitled to behave the way he did.
When I reminded Haney that Missy was pregnant when she was murdered, that seemed to annoy him. For a moment it seemed the heartless façade was pierced.
My experience tells me that psychopaths like Garret Haney and the woman who murdered Colleen Sumner live with a different frame of reference than most of us. They understand emotions intellectually but don’t feel them the way most of us do. They act with a near-total absence of empathy. They find happiness by causing pain to others. They are methodical in their daily life and with their crimes. They are callous, cunning, and careful. They act without a conscious override.
~~~
Since Monday, CCPD monitored reports of stolen cars. As of Friday, Haney was still at large. Saturday morning, a white 2005 Ford pickup truck was reported stolen from a farm down state. The truck’s license plate information was input into license plate reader databases. They showed the vehicle zig-zag 25 miles west and then nothing. State police were alerted.
“What are you doing here on a Saturday morning, Lachance?”
“Roy, you know those wanted posters you had me post up all over town?”
“Yeah. What about them?”
“Someone on has been putting Piercer concert posters over them.”
I remembered that Joey had a black and grey ink Piercer tattoo and that Haney’s sister was wearing a Piercer tee shirt.
“Where and when is the concert?”
“Tonight, over at the Come Around Club. 8 PM.”
“That would a good place for Haney to blend in and solicit help. What’s more conducive to devilry and psychopathy than a heavy metal band concert with lots of drugs and “fuck-the-world” attitude? How about going undercover tonight, Lachance, and listening to loud heavily distorted electric guitars and “death growls?”
“I haven’t done any headbanging since a Led Zeppelin concert during high school. These days I’d prefer being undercover at a piano bar, but I’ll be a headbanger if it means catching that monster.”
“You won’t be alone. Two undercover narcs will be in the crowd. Rivera and Burton. I’ll let them know that you will be there and who we’re looking for. There will be back up at the door, Meyers and James. If Haney gets inside, you just have to ID him and they will take him down. You’ll be given an earpiece with a whisper-mic so we can communicate. Put your hair down to cover the cord. And, you will be wearing a vest, so wear something to hide it.
“He’ll need tickets to get in.”
“Here’s photos of Joey Long, Frank Nester, and Kurt Gorman. They are the Backstreet Movers. They may have a hand in that. They say metalheads are loyal and faithful people. Want one?”
“What are they?”
“Licorice wafers. Neccos. It is the oldest American candy brand – first produced in 1847.”
“It’s pure sugar. Does Laci know about your affair with sugar?”
“She knows about my past affair with alcohol. She gives me a pass on sugar. For now.”
~~~
The Haney stakeout was a gamble, but I figured Haney was running out of options. His picture was on TV. He had to connect with friends to stay on the run.
The stakeout was a gamble, but not a costly one for the department. Two narc agents would have been at the concert anyway. Only four CCPD officers worked overtime: Officer Lachance, two at the door, and I. I stayed in a van parked outside the venue to coordinate. The head of the narc unit, Ruiz, is in the van with me.
The voice of Lachance came into my earpiece: “I’m inside. Nothing yet.”
“Copy that. It’s early.”
[Rivera] “The headbangers are still coming in.”
[Meyers] “Look at the tee shirts. This band is into sadomasochism.”
[Ruiz] “C’mon guys, these troubled youth want to process anger constructively. Death metal helps them regulate their emotions, overcome suicidal thoughts, and occupy their sensory environment. Extreme forms of music give people a sense of relatability and shared communal support.”
[Rivera] “What are you on?”
[Ruiz] “Some website about personality types who attend heavy metal concerts. Wait. Listen to this. Mice listening to hard rock music ended up killing each other. While mice who listened to Mozart did not kill each other.”
[Meyers] “The metalheads are still coming in. Squirrelly lookin’ dudes. The concert was supposed to begin at 8. It’s 8:30.”
[James] “These things never start on time.”
[Lachance] “One of the roadies is putting a guitar on stage. He could be Joey long. I need to move closer.”
[Lachance] “It looks like Joey Long. Is Backstreet Movers the road crew for Piercer? I’m going backstage.”
[Ruiz] “Rivera, go with her.”
[Winder] “Meyers, head to the back. Look for the truck and watch out for Haney. He’s armed.”
Things went silent . . . then . . .
[Lachance] “It’s Joey Long. He doesn’t suspect me. I told him I’m security for the club. Rivera is checking the back rooms.”
[Meyers] “The moving truck is pulled up to the back door. I see two guys talking just inside the door. A big guy. The other guy is shorter than Gorman and has a beard.”
[Winder] “The big guy could be Gorman. I’ll send the photo to your phone.”
[Winder] “Yeah, that’s Gorman.
[Winder} “Lachance, Rivera and Burton, do you copy?”
[Lachance] “Copy.”
[Rivera] “Copy.”
[Burton] “Copy.”
[Winder] “Lachance and Rivera head to the back door. Meyers move closer and try to ID the guy in the smaller guy. It may be Haney. He didn’t need a ticket if he’s part of the road crew. Burton, stay where you are. If guns go off, we’ll need crowd control. I’m coming to back you up Meyers.”
Comms went silent. Then, pounding drums and shrieking guitar riffs.
[Rivera] “I see Haney and . . .”
[Lachance] “Haney and Gorman.”
[Ruiz] “Copy.”
[Winder] “Copy. Meyers and I are moving to the back door. Meyers, go to the other side of the truck in case he makes a run for it.”
[Meyers] “Copy.”
[Winder] “Move in and take him down.”
[Rivera] “Shots fired. Lachance down. Gorman’s hit. Haney’s bolted out the door.”
[Meyers] “Got him! Tased and squirming like a stuck pig. Disarmed him.”
[Winder] “Coming around.”
[Ruiz] “EMT on the way.”
[Rivera] “The shot hit Lachance’s vest. She’s stunned but OK.”
~~~
The capture of the serial murderer Haney, and accomplices Joey Long, and Kurt Gorman headlined the nightly news after I informed Sarge who informed the captain who informed the commissioner who informed the mayor who informed the governor. The public information officer was then informed by the commissioner who then briefed reporters on the capture and arrests. The prison warden at Howard Correctional was also informed about Blout.
What didn’t make the ten-o’clock news was finding out that the guy who helped Haney escape Howard Correctional was a prison guard named Jeff Blout. And, Jeff Blout is the father of the baby that Tammy Haney is carrying. Blout was a drug supplier for the inmates and for Tammy.
We learned this after Frank Nester was hauled in with Joey and “Gore.” Frank wanted the DA to go easy on him, so he gave up Blout. Frank had a wife and two-year-old daughter.
The week ended better than it had started. I wondered if tomorrow would be a murderer-free Sunday or if the madness of men would again outdo the folly of the beasts of the earth.
~~~
Sunday morning. I’m sitting at the kitchen table with my best girl drinking a cup of black coffee. Laci wants to know if I had found out who gave our address to the media.
“The crazy eyes reporter on the lawn freaked me out. I wanted to call the exterminator.”
“The media is not giving up their source. The Daily Pester probably had someone follow me home. “Anyway, Captain Moritz talked to the station manager. He made it clear that the news media should serve public interest at all times and not serve up his detective for public interest.
“I called the Longstreets last night. Before I came home. I told them that Haney had been captured. They were relieved and thanked me.”
“Do they know the effort you put in to catch that serial murderer?”
“They didn’t ask how that could happen. They did ask “How on earth can the man who brutally murdered their daughter and grandchild, the man I helped put away for life, slip through a fence and run free?”
“What did you say?”
“They had seen the news reports. It was obvious that part of the justice system had failed them. I just reassured them that the other parts would do everything to capture Haney.
“What I wanted to say is that if I found Haney I would blow that monster out of this world. He deserves execution and worse. God will deal with him. If I do, I go to jail.”
“Good choice. I don’t want to have to plan your escape from prison. You turned fifty last month Roy. How are you holding up?”
“I have my licorice and you, kiddo. I’m fine. I have my job, too.’
“That’s why I asked.”
“I joined the force to solve problems. Not the world’s problems but what the homicidally bereaved face when their world is torn apart by the violent death of a loved one. I stop the bleeding, but I can’t bring the healing. I wonder, Laci, how they hold up.
“Would the execution of the cold-blooded psychopath Haney bring relief and a sense of justice to the Longstreets?” To the families of the women he murdered? Would the parents of Colleen Sumner feel relief and a sense of justice with the execution of her murderer?”
“Yes. But not enough.”
“How could enough happen?”
“With reversal. Resurrection reversal.”
~~~
©J.A. Johnson, Kingdom Venturers, 2026, All Rights Reserved
And the Beat Down Goes On
May 4, 2026 Leave a comment
“. . . the terror of the night
or the arrow that flies by day
or the pestilence that stalks in darkness
or the destruction that wastes at noonday.” Psalm 91
Fires, floods and extreme weather will imperil a third of all life on land in the next 60 years.
Nobel Physicist Predicts END DATE For Modern Civilization: And it’s quite soon…
The New York Times’s Resident Catastrophist Delivers Another Subscription to the End of the World
You wake up in a news cycle that never sleeps. With a cup of coffee, you read what ‘doomcasters’ are saying about end-of-life scenarios appearing on the horizon. Now you are fully awake and wondering what to do with these high alert headlines? Do you let existential crisis into your life?
You sip your coffee and remember that not long ago the world was subjected to pandemic hysteria. Coronavirus, the “global crisis of unprecedented reach and proportion,” started making headlines at the beginning of 2020.
You recall the WHO declaring the coronavirus a “public health emergency of international concern.” And the headlines declaring surges in COVID-19 cases attributed to the Omicron variant, a “tripledemic” – COVID combined with flu and RSV, and of overwhelmed hospitals and healthcare systems and dancing nurses.
How could you forget that Biden imposed OSHA vaccination and testing emergency standards on your business or the reality-warping restrictive policies involving mandated lockdowns, masking, social distancing, fines, and vaccines, or the CDC predicting people will die?
You pour yourself another cup of coffee and look out the kitchen window. You see the couple next store – Vivian and Zoe – walking their dog Baxter. The other day, when you took the garbage can to the curb, the apoplectic twosome accosted you with “Democracy is threatened by the likes of you extremists, fascists, racists, homophobe Christian nationalists!” and “Trump is Hitler!” They saw you going to church last Sunday.
You drink your coffee troubled that Viv and Zoe had been beaten down by another media existential crisis campaign, akin to the rollout of the COVID-19 marketing campaign that told us to worry about it, and how to worry about it.
Under the spell of the “Democracy is threatened” campaign, Viv and Zoe were in a state of emotional panic. And that had them beat down on the closest person who didn’t share their views or the views of the commercial-sponsored media. The media’s inordinate influence has you very concerned about the collective fear and confusion its campaigns were causing to psyches.
The beat down goes on . . . in our heads.
~~~
How shall we then live in the context of existential dread?
Day after day imagination is battered with dire predictions– the end of this and that unless we do this and that. The steady beat of amplified headlines overwhelms one’s patience, strength, and soul.
Climate change, pandemics, wars, “Democracy!” AI Could Make Humans Irrelevant!
How do we respond to headlines telling us that we are done for? Should we let fear and helplessness dominate our lives? Can we live in terms of “accepting disharmony from the outset and defying it”? This last way of going forward is the directive C.S. Lewis prescribes in his essay “On Living in an Atomic Age.”
Published in post-war 1948 and at the beginning of the atomic age, the essay provides a reality-check perspective and presents a scenario of how to live in life-ending times.
The following is an excerpt from the opening of Lewis’ short essay. During COVID the excerpt was passed around on the internet, with “atomic” replaced with “coronavirus.” Certainly, the essay can be applied to any dire life-threatening circumstances.
In one way we think a great deal too much of the atomic bomb. “How are we to live in an atomic age?” I am tempted to reply: “Why, as you would have lived in the sixteenth century when the plague visited London almost every year, or as you would have lived in a Viking age when raiders from Scandinavia might land and cut your throat any night; or indeed, as you are already living in an age of cancer, an age of syphilis, an age of paralysis, an age of air raids, an age of railway accidents, an age of motor accidents.”
In other words, do not let us begin by exaggerating the novelty of our situation. Believe me, dear sir or madam, you and all whom you love were already sentenced to death before the atomic bomb was invented: and quite a high percentage of us were going to die in unpleasant ways. We had, indeed, one very great advantage over our ancestors — anesthetics; but we have that still. It is perfectly ridiculous to go about whimpering and drawing long faces because the scientists have added one more chance of painful and premature death to a world which already bristled with such chances and in which death itself was not a chance at all, but a certainty.
This is the first point to be made: and the first action to be taken is to pull ourselves together. If we are all going to be destroyed by an atomic bomb, let that bomb when it comes find us doing sensible and human things praying, working, teaching, reading, listening to music, bathing the children, playing tennis, chatting to our friends over a pint and a game of darts—not huddled together like frightened sheep and thinking about bombs. They may break our bodies (a microbe can do that) but they need not dominate our minds.
The full essay, in the document below, contains questions and positions Lewis maintains, such as
Are we “accepting disharmony from the outset and defying it?”
Do we “hold up our own human standards against the idiocy of the universe?”
Are we the product of blind physical forces and therefore unable to provide answers to questions of a fatalist existence?
“But suppose we really are spirits? Suppose we are not the offspring of Nature…?”
“We must go back to a much earlier view.”
“We must simply accept it that we are spirits, free and rational beings, at present inhabiting an irrational universe, and must draw the conclusion that we are not derived from it.”
“If there is no straight line elsewhere, how did we discover that Nature’s line is crooked?”
“Nothing is more likely to destroy a species or a nation than a determination to survive at all costs.”
https://www.matthewaglaser.com/living-in-an-atomic-age
“On Living in an Atomic Age” (first published 1948) by C. S. Lewis (1898–1963) From: Present Concerns: Essays by C.S. Lewis (edited by Walter Hooper; New York: Harcourt Brace Jovanovich, 1986), pages 73–80
Born a few years after the above essay was published, I became well aware of ‘doomcasting’ headlines. I recalled some of the headlines in my January 2025 post Surface Readings.
The post began with the words of poet W H Auden – “Now is the age of anxiety” and my own take on things: “Impending doom has been in the news during my entire lifetime.” I wrote about the headlines and pronouncements of those anxious times which included the book The Late great Planet Earth based on the modern and heretical notion of dispensationalism.
~~~
Imagination Reset
Taking in the spirit of the times, imaginations are exposed to the negation of life and dire predictions often made for political ends that use fear to move power into the hands of the few.
Taking in the digital tabloid times is the “WHAAM!” of a Roy Lichtenstein Ben-Day dots painting. Imagination is amped up and ready to pop with a Pow!
What happens to our imaginations when we are constantly confronted with crisis? And, how do we live with dire predictions?
With the 24/7/365 news cycle, it’s little wonder that “News Avoidance” is becoming a common way to deal with the constant specter of troubling things, as Thaddeus G. McCotter writes in I Didn’t Read the News Today, Oh Boy: Embracing the ‘News Avoidance’ Pandemic
“If you live today, you breath in nihilism … it’s the gas you breathe. If I hadn’t had the Church to fight it with or to tell me the necessity of fighting it, I would be the stinkingest logical positivist you ever saw right now.” ― Flannery O’Connor
What we shouldn’t avoid are resources such as poetry, art, classical literature and music to help us cope with and see beyond the terrors of the modern age. We need the signal of those who came before and dealt with all kinds of things and not the clamoring noise of influencers.
Poet Wallace Stevens, in “The Noble Rider and the Sound of Words” writes that poetry, as it interacts with reality and the imagination, can shape our perspective and provide meaning and comfort in a world that often feels overwhelming and harsh.
Wallace emphasizes the role of imagination in countering the beat down of life. If you are a Christian, you already know that the poetry of the Psalms does just that, e.g., Psalm 91.
In the video below, Dr. Jason Baxter, author of The Medieval Mind of C.S. Lewis discusses his book, Why Literature Still Matters.
Why Literature Still Matters: An Interview with Dr. Jason Baxter | Classical Home Education
~~~
If you need a quick antidote to climate hysteria, Itxu Díaz provides his take on the news of impending doom: Climate Change Scientists Set a Date for the Arrival of Hell on Earth: the Year 2085.
~~~
Naomi Wolf with Outspoke: “I’m here tonight to talk about a huge news story that broke in the last couple of days. It could be thread that unravels the whole COVID virus/vaccine perpetrator issue.
“A criminal syndicate, essentially.
“Even just this initial gesture is so transformational. It breaks the spell of, “No one can be held accountable, no one can be investigated from the untouchable third rail COVID vaccine rollout, COVID virus rollout.””
“The Shocking Story of NIH Secretly Funding COVID”
~~~
And the Beat Down Goes On
~~~
Wreathing (Matthew 6:34)
On my shed door, atop its plastic wreath,
a robin fashioned a nest, found twigs the binding.
then, behold,
above the manufactured certainty,
within the steadfastly twig-tucked wreathing,
her brood burst burst burst forth.
J.A. Johnson, 2026
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Filed under 2026 Current Events, Climate change, COVID-19, Death, Depression, journalism, media, nihilism, pandemic, Political Commentary, social engineering, war Tagged with apocalypse, art, books, C.S. Lewis, Climate change, COVID-19, death, Democracy, entertainment, journalism, media, nuclear war, pandemics, social media, writing