Football, Power, Sexual Assault, and Jesus

In November of 2016, Baylor Athletic Director Ian McCaw left the Baptist school amid controversy over his handling of, what a lawsuit now alleges were “52 — fifty-two — acts of rape… between 2011 and 2014.” An independent investigation reported of his tenure over their athletics programs, “a failure to identify and respond to a pattern of sexual violence by a football player, to take action in response to reports of a sexual assault by multiple football players, and to take action in response to a report of dating violence.” When Waco police offered to hush up an assault case, McCaw’s response was, “That would be great if they kept it quiet!”

With dreams of Baylor-like football success, and apparently unconcerned about McCaw’s ignominious departure from the school, Jerry Falwell Jr. snapped him up for Liberty University’s program.

In February of 2017, Falwell Jr. was appointed by Trump to a higher education task force. One of his goals is “to cut university regulations, including rules on dealing with campus sexual assault…”


Keep reading The Moral Bankruptcy of Roy Moore’s Defenders




Keep Your Flag off My Lawn

“I have noticed this ambivalent reaction I have to the flag since last Veteran’s Day, when I awoke to find one smaller than a sheet of paper shoved into the ground beside my mailbox. Looking up and down the street, I saw that all my neighbors had them too. I walked down the driveway to discover a tag on the flagstick with the name Bob Goodlatte printed on it. Goodlatte is my Congressman… Finding a flag planted in my front yard with his name attached to it disgusted me—I realized it was not my American flag.”

Keep reading Keep Your Flag off My Lawn at The Good Men Project.

Liberal Intolerance On Campus

“A recent Pew survey indicates that 58% of Republicans believe colleges and universities have a negative effect on the way things are going in the United States. A major reason for this opinion is the belief that the university is a liberal hothouse breeding wild-eyed radicals and silencing conservative voices.”

Keep reading Liberal Intolerance On Campus: The White Man’s Red Herring



Image, Business Insider

Fiction: “Kirk and Anna Lee Just Disagree” by Vic Sizemore

An excerpt from my novel Suffer Not a Woman

Heavy Feather Review

After Anna Lee told her husband Ridvan she was leaving him, he got himself transferred back home to Meadow Green. To try and work things out. Suddenly he was no longer gone weeks at a time, but was always fucking home, always trying to get them to do things as a goddamned family. It was pathetic and awkward—besides, Anna Lee had so moved on, was in love with her old high school locker mate Titus Strother, whom she’d found on Facebook. Anna Lee had started sleeping in the guest room, and she never knew which Ridvan she would find downstairs in the morning. Some days he would weep and beg, which disgusted her; some days he was cold and curt, which is what she preferred; some days, he invaded her space and threatened her. He made a point of wearing his gun around the kitchen in a shoulder harness like…

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Love Russia, Hate Putin


In the past few years, conservative Americans have shifted almost wholesale from Russophobia to Russophilia. Right wing Christians in particular are falling in love with “Russia” and Vladimir Putin. They do not care that Mr. Putin assassinates dissidents. They do not care that Mr. Putin is, as the Washington Post’s Christian Caryl writes, “contemptuous of freedom, and he sneers at the idea of representative democracy. He believes in corruption, lying and poison as tools of statecraft.”

This is perfectly understandable when you admit that what appeals to them in Mr. Putin is the very thing they love about Donald Trump.

Continue reading the op-ed Love Russia, hate Putin



Fog bank over Indianola, Puget Sound, WA

They make their way haltingly, careful not to step on the fat tubes of bullwhip kelp stretched across their path like brown furry boa constrictors. The shore pebbles, gray and white and black, so rounded and smooth from the endless tumble and roll of saltwater, shift under their feet and make the going more treacherous yet. A gangly hedge of weather-felled trees and debris, bark-less and sea-bleached, hems the entire strand. The wind is a constant white rumble past Delmas’ head.

“Did you see…?” Lillian’s voice is swept up by the wind.

Delmas nods. Mergansers float out on the blue water; closer in, shiny black seal heads bob. The seals peer at the two of them with curious eyes, intelligent eyes that seem to betray a knowledge of more than swimming and catching fish. Much more.

“Did you?” she yells up at his ear.

He nods again, more insistently.

Under her green windbreaker, Lillian is wearing Delmas’ blue moth-eaten cardigan over a gray sweatshirt shed by a lover from before Delmas met her. The cuffs are frayed to almost nothing and Washington & Lee is faded to a shadowy blue arch over her breasts–her left still there though flattened and empty, the right, a puckered scar that stretches into her armpit. She no longer bothers with a bra.

The cancer is back; it has metastasized. The children don’t know yet.


When you have a little down time, read my story Delmas, out now in a beautiful issue of The Woven Tale Press.