One Woman vs. Hate Speech

riot.jpgA lady I’ve never met posted something worth reposting. Her name is Tammy Lockard. Check it out:

Some in Charlottesville, were just patriots. Some are sick of the anti-white rhetoric etc. There were groups of historians who believe we should “keep monuments to remind us of our mistakes”. There were many people there who were venting, and many who were there to show their aggression.
I think it was a really poorly run event. If we shut up people we do not agree with, we will miss the chance to listen to what their issues and points of view, are..
I am a person who believes in the most freedom of speech, and free right to assemble. I don’t feel strongly about monuments to dead people. I don’t even want my own grave marked etc. I would rather completely evaporate without a trace.
The event was one where people had applied for a license to assemble. It was approved, because our laws give us the right to protest our government and opposite views, in a peaceful and orderly assembly. It should have been a protected assembly. Once the license was approved, proper law enforcement should have been in place. That is exactly where this process failed. At every instance of lawlessness or assault, on either side, arrests should have been made.
If we cannot freely assemble, we live in tyranny. These laws were put in place to insure we have a voice, all of us.
That right was an informed event of assembly. Unfortunately, the Mayor and police force chose to ignore lawlessness. The day should never have ramped up into what amounted to gang wars.
Our government officials, and Justice Department are going to have to hold law enforcement and local authorities responsible for being derelict in their duties. Otherwise, they allow organized tyranny to prevail.
The truth is, there are always going to be people who do not look like you or think like you. They are sovereign individuals, with a sovereign right to like you or not. They do not have to agree with you. You do not have to agree with them. But you do not have a right to assault them.
We have had KKK rallies forever. People typically go to watch them, like children at a parade. They watch them wear their goofy hats and say ridiculous things. The same with the Nazis. A few, stand on the sidelines and heckle the goofy people. Then, everyone goes home and gives their children lessons and opinions, and move on.
In the past, they were very minor events. They were well policed etc. Now, law enforcement have lost their authority because of a groundswell of disrespect, against their place in our society as peacekeepers.
The Anarchists are shortsighted people. They were the worst element of the day. They have no plan but to tear people and government, down. They are brutal bullies who stooped to violence. They are, ironically, the exact thing they say they hate, bullies. They hide behind masks which cannot hide the shallowness of their agenda. They have no follow-through plan for a deconstructed country. They are not there to build anything. If you ask them ” and then what?”, they have no clue. They will throw us all into chaos, and then do nothing about the damage.
I have yet to see, an anarchist who can think beyond their belligerence and rage. They scream “our rights are being denied” but when you challenge them to run for office and “be the change they want to see”, they stomp off. I personally, do not judge people who are willing to do a necessary job, I am unwilling to do. I do not give opinions without assistance and proposed solutions. They have little to no ideas. They certainly, could never be, an alternative solution. At the end of the day, someone else would need to pick up after their mess and re-establish order.
I fear the foreign hands in inciting chaos. Lincoln understood this when he said “a house divided will surely fall”.. and fall to what (or whom)? There are just too many elements of this trend, to not see a pattern of nonstop assault on our strength of our nation.

What do you think?

Chime in here!


Something Big

Something big is coming! I know, it sounds like HYPE… and, well, in a way… who cares if it is?
The point is, when something this big happens, the ones who know have an obligation, even a duty, to inform those who do not know…
Consider yourself warned. Don’t miss it! stay tuned here for more information soon!

Please…don’t read this if you aren’t a man over 40

I’ve been trying to kick start a blog for some time now. Problem is, I don’t have a niche.

You know, a determined, pre-conceived audience for whom I write.

A friend asked me point blank the other day, in response to my  post in a Writers & Authors Page on Facebook about not being able to find an audience with my blog.

She asked, “Who is your audience?” and I kinda thought to myself, um, well, I guess it’s… and my mental voice kinda trailed off at that point, like my 13-year-old’s does when I ask if he’s done his homework.

So, I thought about it, for like 12 seconds, as always, ’cause I like to make snap decisions (indecision ranks down there with my 16-year-old’s used sock smell) and I blurted (if one can blurt in a text message) that I supposed my audience was “Millennials who want to discover something about themselves.”

Honestly, the ONLY reason I said that crap was because:

     A. I didn’t like feeling stupid for not finding a target audience before starting my blog

     B. I didn’t want a girl who used to play keyboards at church as a teenager when I was a big muckety-muck youth pastor at the same church show me up with her simple question about who my target audience was

     C. My best friend’s son (who claims he’s a Millennial at age 20, but heck, my cousin’s 16-year-old daughter claims she’s a Millennial…bzzt WRONG!) claims he LOVED my blog posts and said they would totally connect with Millennials so I thought, Millennials, yeah. I’m hip. I thought I was writing to my peer group, but hey, I guess the young folks dig it more ’cause I’m so honest, or something.

For the record,  I Googled generational distinctions and Millennials were born between 1980 and 1995, according to a reliable source, the Center For Generational Kinetics… the reason for this is the emotional connection Millennials feel from 9/11 (September 11, 2001) and the Gen Z kids (born after 1995) were too young for a strong emotional experience related to that event when it happened. Some sources claim Millennials were born as late as 2000 but that leaves no personal connection to 9/11 so… nope.

Anyhoo, Millennial stuff now researched, my friend (who really is a Millennial) said many Millennials are too sensitive for my terms (retard, turd-breath, Republican, Bible thumper, light in the loafers, God-phobe atheist, sand Negro, Bathrobe head, and many other outlandish terms that I don’t really use but just might if so inclined and I’d just been ripped off by a street beggar who was really a disgruntled Postal Worker posing as a Homeless Person.

Read the above paragraph again if you want, but it won’t make much sense the second time, either.

Welp, anyways, I ditched the notion right then and there when my Millennial Friend suggested that her peers were too pussy to purr over my bluntness. So, I said, screw Millennials. Or, Gen Z’s who think they’re freakin’ Millennials. How about I just do this stupid blog post for myself?

That would mean you’d have to be a white, 50ish man who’s wife divorced him after a long time and several kiddos, leaving him confused and angry but pretending he’s doing well. That would mean my audience is composed of men who love God and Jesus and grew up going to church but feel like church is kinda wimpy and phony at worst, and a good place to meet people who want to care at best.

That would mean my blog would be geared toward guys who feel absolutely invisible at times and who feel like if they stripped naked and set themselves on fire in a crowded restaurant people would still push past him to get to the taco salad.

Bottom line is, I don’t think people of any culture or viewpoint or age or race or creed or color or religion or cult or background, be it Redneck, Rogue, or Refined, can collect enough interest to stop and read a blog these days, unless it’s followed by millions (or at least more than 6?) people on a regular basis.

I got ten or 12 likes on my last post and I felt pretty doggone superb about that, being that in the past post, I got like, um, zero to one  like (I think my Mom liking a post doesn’t really count). But, thanks Mom, if you’re reading this.

So please, don’t read this blog unless you’re a man over 40. You’re not my demographic. And, you have no business liking it.

Whether or not you like this blog, it’s for me. Your comments are always welcome, even if you aren’t a guy over 40!

John Cockroft isn’t crazy. He’s just not sure how to get a bigger audience. He believes his words hold value and his opinions matter. But then again, most people reading this feel that way about themselves. Hey, maybe everyone is his demographic, after all! and for more about him.

What I want most I can never get

I’ll get right to the point. There is one thing on my wish list each Christmas…

Okay, it’s on my list even in the summertime. And in the Spring. And, yep, the Fall.

So, what’s this all season wish?

Let me first ask you, the reader: what is it that you want more than anything? Do you have a passion in life? Is there something you’d definitely not want to go a day without?

I realize those are two different questions. Let’s take the first question, Do you have a passion in life?

First, if you have a passion, such as mountain climbing, it may take a while to condition yourself to attain that goal. If you have a career goal, you know the drill. Set the timetable and write it down. Get advice from those who are where you want to be, etc. Having a passion can also be something you do but it isn’t getting you any real benefit, such as a passion for sex, alcohol, shopping, gossip, or lottery ticket buying, tobacco buying… all right, you can tell I’ve been around convenience stores too much.

Convenience stores aside, what is your passion in life? Does it make you a better person if you pursue it? Does it help others?

Next question: Is there something you’d definitely not want to go a day without?

Let’s get the obvious out of the way, such as oxygen, water, etc. Yes, we prefer to eat and sleep, but I suppose most of us would still be alive 24 hours later if deprived of food or sleep. But air? Kinda ranks high on the list.

Push aside the essentials, and what do I mean by is there something you’d not wanna go a day without? tobacco? caffeine? pornography? texting? Facebook? gossip? video games? TV?

What about those healthy choices, like daily exercise, Bible study, prayer, random acts of kindness? Yes, all good and healthy, per se, but what about your passion? What is your driving force?

This sounds like a motivational speech, doesn’t it?

So, be prepared to be a little less motivated.

My one thing I want but cannot get.

I’m passionate about creating art, literature and visual stories through video and photography. I’ve written books (check them out on Amazon) and appeared in a variety of films and stage plays. I’ve created artwork on T-shirts and canvas; in fact, that’s what I do for a living now.

Let’s step back from passion, drive, ambition, goal setting… all the motivational stuff.

What do you want most?

Think about it before you answer.

What I want most is______________.

Let me know what your answers are. Comment below.

Ready for my one thing now?

Finally, here goes: The one thing I want most but cannot get is to have my children live with me.

Yep. That’s the thing on my wish list. I wish I could wave a magic wand and get the last six years back that my kids have been apart from me. It’s not their choice they had to leave. It sure isn’t mine.

But divorce happened. And because it happened, though I fought against it tooth and nail, it took my precious boys away from me. They were 12, 10, 7 and 1 when the separation occurred. It tore like a knife.

For details, see my book on Amazon “Divorced Christian Dad.”

The one thing I want, money can’t buy. The one thing I want, I can’t get by working on something, or improving who I am, or completing a seminar or going to counseling.

The one thing I want, to have my boys live under my roof, is the one thing I can’t get.

Even if I gained a ton of money and pursued custody in court, it wouldn’t buy back the six years I’ve lost.

That’s why things get a little weird for me. Not having the one thing I wish for most, and realizing that if I changed all my behavior to the “Billy Graham” setting of perfection, or if I had the “Bill Gates” income, or the “Brad Pitt” appearance, nothing could get me what I want most.

I’m stuck on a timeline in the course of eternity that happened to start in the 20th century and now continues into the 21st century. Then, scores of years hence, no one will remember me and I’ll be a distant memory to the few who knew my children or grandchildren.

Just like my great-great grandparents, I won’t meet my great-great grandchildren. Just like them, I won’t be talked about in the 22nd century. And, as time rolls on, or even if Christ returns in the rapture and the world ends in a ball of fire, I still won’t have had my children growing up in my household in the early 21st century the way they were supposed to.

No matter what happens or doesn’t happen in the Cosmos, John Cockroft won’t get full time custody of his kids.

If I could go back in time, I would. I would change everything that caused those kids to not be in my home. I accept responsibility for my mistakes. But I can’t cause those mistakes to have never happened.

What did I learn from my mistakes? That there’s nothing I can do to reverse them. No matter how good a person I become. No matter how much money I earn. No matter how influential and powerful I become.

Right now, I’d trade all the money, fame, power, and praise for the chance to raise my sons in my home rather than be a visitor every other weekend.

I hope you are reading this with hope. I hope you aren’t divorced, and that you still have your kids. Or, if you are young without kids, I hope you get married and stay married. And raise your kids all the way through.

My new wife and I have devoted our lives to making marriage popular again. Check out our YouTube channel “TwentyFourSevenMarriage”…

Chances are, John Cockroft is more transparent than you. That’s because  he’s a big-time muckety-muck professional blogger so don’t even try it on your own.

How to get 100% customer satisfaction every time

How do you get 100% customer satisfaction every time? For a good source of frustration and inspiration, check out this fellow blogger.

In baseball, batting averages can be less than 4 out of 10. Those numbers look a bit more grim in the surgical world.

Imagine a baseball player retiring and looking for something to do. He’s flipping through a medical school brochure one day, and an idea hits him. He could become a brain surgeon in just 3,454 easy steps! (I know, it takes an imagination the size of Wrigley Field, but don’t leave your seat for the hot dog stand just yet.)

So, this retired MLB superstar batting hero whose been averaging 4 hits out of every 10 waltzes through medical school in a sweet full ride scholarship due to bad manners but good connections (his sister is the medical director’s mistress) and he lands a job at XYZ hospital.

It’s his first brain surgery and he’s sweating bullets. You know how rookies are. Especially when they’re used to big league standards, i.e.scratching yourself in front of 30,000 fans, spitting sunflower seed shells all over a multi-million dollar sports complex and getting rich on a 60 to 70 percent miss rate… steee-rike ONE!

Now he’s up to bat at the new job, doing his routine, popping his neck, popping and re-popping each knuckle, scrubbing up to his elbows, and finally trying to wrangle into a pair of medium-sized surgical latex gloves with wet hands…(where’s the blankesurgeonty-blank Larges when you need ’em? Mr. Jones is already under the ether and the surgical team is buzzing in the OR, clattering forceps, scissors, and adjusting the volume on the stereo.)

Our MLB big bat retiree arrives,  hoping no one notices his fingers poking from his latex mediums or the sweat rings forming under the arms of his pale blue pastel scrubs.  He’s focused. He’s in the zone. He’s used to big bucks and big crowds. This little bitty surgical room ain’t  diddly squat.

He takes his place at the plate. Before him is Mr. Jones’ shaved scull, ready for the saw.

Our MLB rookie brain surgeon spits into both shredded gloves, cracks his knuckles in unison for one final prep, and picks up the saw, waving it menacingly behind his right ear, waiting for the pitch as the surgical team stares in bewilderment.


As you can imagine, the story doesn’t go well for our rookie brain surgeon. If you’ve grown accustomed to being a Big League-r, you’ll likely to get used to failing at bat more often than succeeding.

If you’re really a brain surgeon (or an engineer) you insist on things going well all the time. The results could be disastrous even if one foul ball occurs.

So, here’s the “happy medium” for those of you who miss the ball like a baseball batter, yet want the results of a successful surgery:

◊When mistakes occur, correct them yourself. 100%

◊If you can’t correct them yourself, get someone right away to do it who can

◊If you can’t correct the mistake as a team, immediately inform the customer and ask what you can do to ensure their satisfaction


In my world, I am an illustrator. I draw a picture from someone’s photograph onto a canvas or a tee shirt. Pretty simple stuff. But, on a few occasions, the customer isn’t satisfied. However, I don’t hear about it at the time of purchase, because…

A. They don’t want to hurt my feelings (you know how sensitive artists can be!)

B. They already paid for it and it takes a while to regret their decision fully

My customers text message me their photos for me to create my illustration. So, in one instance, a customer text messaged me that she wasn’t happy with the results. (This was the next day). I answered that I was sorry for the unsatisfactory result and offered to re-draw her picture free of charge. I sent her a sample sketch, which she liked, and proceeded with the final product, which she picked up.

In another case, a customer lived out of town. I sent him a follow up message, stating that I hoped he enjoyed his art and he could get a discount if he placed a new order in the next 30 days. THIS IS IMPORTANT. If you ask for feedback, and offer an incentive, you can get more business AND determine where you’re slipping up.

When he replied that he wasn’t impressed, I again offered a free re-do. He complied, and liked the new version of his picture. This time, I had to mail it. All free of charge, of course.

And that, my friends, makes me now batting a thousand with my customers.

John Cockroft isn’t perfect. But, he tries. for his illustration business site.


How to get what you really want

fb_img_1486760454022Every breathing human wants something.  We all want some things more than others.

This rant is about that one thing you want most.

Think about it for more than a nanosecond.  Look up and to your right (or is it left?) and do that memory recall thingy they talk about in psychology.  Open the window of your desire. Go ahead,  I can feel you break into a cold sweat already. So, open the desire window.  You need to feel the breeze of your own values wafting across your consciousness.

Because when you truly open that window to your soul and expose what your true one burning desire is, you will be forced to identify who you are.

We breathing human beings,  yes, even you, the reader, have one desire higher than any other.

And that one thing,  whatever it is,  defines us, whether our parents, friends, siblings, children, grandchildren,  neighbors,  dog, neighbor’s dog, neighbor’s parents, sister-in-law’s gay cousin’s Republican uncle, or any other human air breather out there knows.

So if you’ve read this far, and followed the instructions thus far, and you’ve opened that window to your soul and you feel the breeze of your inner desire blowing through your pores, analyze what you want and why.

Use Me As An Example

For lack of a better example, or because  it’s my most intimate example, and purely to help you,  the reader, I’ll peel back and expose my inner desire and then analyze it right here while you’re watching.  (Hope that doesn’t make you a Peeping Tom…)

Here goes. As I open the window to my innermost desire… I see a man who misses his kids so much it stings his nose to write this sentence.

I see a man who would do anything to have those kids and their mother live with him, in harmony, under the same roof.

There, that wasn’t so hard. Yes, I’m crying writing this, but I’m not nearly as afraid of tears as I am of blocking out my innermost desire.

Now that I’ve let my reality escape into this blog post, now that I’m crying,  I want you to open your window of your innermost desire  and prep for your analysis with me.

It’s okay, you’re not blogging, you’re merely reading,  so don’t worry, be transparent to yourself. I may not see you, but by me sharing my desire, and by analyzing it, I want you to know yourself and take action to accomplish what you need to accomplish and find true peace before you stop breathing air.

My Analysis

Okay, deep breath. Here it is…

In order to get what I want, I will have to reverse time.

Um, so… so that means…  I can’t get what I want.

I can’t get the one thing I want most.

Wait. I thought this blog post was about finding the true me and getting what I really want…


It’s about discovery. It’s about not ever achieving the one thing you want most and still being okay. Yes. You can never get everything the way you want it, but you can still be okay.

Don’t concern yourself with how. The answer isn’t in analyzing further. It’s in accepting that you cannot reverse time… but you can be okay anyway.

Don’t over think. Just accept that if  you cannot get what you want most, you can still make enormous contributions to society and be completely fulfilled. Because you’re human. Because you breathe air.

And that, my friend,  is what makes you worthy of not being able to get what you want and still be okay.

John Cockroft is no psychologist, but he still can do a mean self-analysis. 

Who else wants to get the most out of church?

You know how it is. When you visit a church, you want to get something for your time.

It’s not that church has to be like a business proposal. It’s just that church is supposed to fulfill a need at the core of every human… to feel accepted and validated by a Higher Power. To know the Creator of the Universe is indeed, concerned about and able to reply to my situation.

Check out the reasons people go to church here:

It’s rather egotistical to think you and God can be on a first name basis, but church is supposed to help you realize that. Think of it. Without God, without the Bible, church has no real value. But, if you believe the Bible, if you believe God created the Universe, then you can get outside your own narrow view of life and open yourself up to a new concept that you may not have all the answers!

When you visit a new church, or are returning after not attending for some time, you tend to compare it to your home church, or the church you once attended regularly.

My wife and I visited a church far from home recently. Some things, we liked  about the new church.  It was like a double shot of espresso (this new church was hip; it featured a Starbucks style counter!) We liked the energy; the smiles; the way people gathered and talked. But, of course, we like that about our home church, too. Even though our church is older and “whiter”, it still reflects a common thread of friendliness. And yet, my home church, the church I’m visiting, any church… they all have a shellac coat of phoniness.

Church smells of polyurethane politeness.

What I find generally missing in many churches is the “you can tell by the way I walk my walk; I’m a real world friend with time to talk (and listen)” as it pertains to visitors and newer attendees.

Do you think church is hypocritical?

Don’t think I’m a sour grapes outsider. I grew up in the church bubble and lived the “cliquey connoisseur” lifestyle most of my life.

Back to my visit. My wife and I sat on the second row, center. Not a very visitor thing to do, I know. Most of you would be in the aisle seat toward the back, ready to spring at the first sign of commitment.

On our first visit two weeks ago, a friend introduced us to some regulars up in the front center who park in the SAME seats and get there early like groupies at a rock concert. So, being creatures of habit, we again sat up front, center, next to the groupies.

Only these church groupies aren’t so hip. They’re, er, older than I, which means, pretty well up there. On a scale of 1-10, they’re a 9 for being un-hip. Which I like, by the way. I listen patiently to the older guy telling me his ailments. He’s pretty cool, for an older, ailing guy. He can drive without pain, but his rotator cuff acts up, especially when he goes to grab his wallet (his words, not mine!) which may explain his lack of participation come offering time (who am I condemning; I didn’t drop anything into the offering bucket either!)

The older guy (his name is Trooper, or something unusual with a T) confesses he missed last Wednesday evening service, on purpose. I confess the same. His reason is the same as mine, ironically. We don’t wanna stand and praise Jesus for an entire hour. At this church, the praise-a-lleujah time is half an hour, followed by a 30 minute sermon. But, last week was praise week. No sitting. Lots of rotator cuff afflicting with the expectation of raising arms toward heaven.

“I can’t stand that long,” Trooper says.

“Why not sit during worship? I’ve seen it done.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t feel comfortable doing that.”


Nah, not this guy.

He’s genuinely scaredy cat of being different…something Christians really frown upon.

Me? I plop down during the second song as the chubby bearded hipster with old lady 1930s glasses and short hair on the side, man boobs, and pants so skinny a prepubescent girl could wear them sings into the mic and strums his guitar dramatically. And his boots… so shiny, so… what are they? Combat meets Laura Ingalls Wilder. Lace up, tongue poking over skin tight stretchy pants… wow. Just, wow. Distracting with a big, fat, man booby Capital “D”.

So, I plop down and sit with my head resting on my forearm draped over the seat reserved for man boobs at the mic. How do I know? Each seat in the front row is adorned with a honkin’ huge laminated sign for the appropriate designee. For example, this seat in front of me reads “Worship Pastor”. Gosh, what an absolutely stupid title. No resume builder here, folks. Unless you never want a real job out in the real world. “D-uh, I’m a worship pastor. I can, uh, wear tight pants and raise my flabby arms towards heaven like a real worship hero. D-uh. Follow me, as I, like, uh, follow Christ, for real. I know, right?”

OK, a little Millennial generation gap hostility there… but if you’re still reading, you’ve been warned.

The other front row seats are smattered with equally garish reservation signs. They read: (Church abbreviation) Staff; Lead Pastor; Associate Pastor; Outreach Coordinator; Connection Director; Ambivalence Eliminator; Song Leader Boot Polisher; etc. and so forth. Each distinguished designee firmly and securely regarded in his or her seat (which were completely unoccupied come sermon time… ) which means they probably went for a double shot of espresso at the cafe/bar for hipsters near the main entrance?

So, the worship ensues, my head is down and I’m in the “praying fervently” position, or so it seems to observers of my second row antics.  My lovely wife, in her tight red jeans and high heels, stands as if standing for an eternity in high heels is the most comfy thing in the world, as the entire congregation no doubt leers at her loveliness. She even waves at God with outstretched arms and claps along as they sing. Me, I’m watching those shoes close up. I think I have the better deal.



The sermon is by an older white guy. It’s good. It applies to me. My wife gives me the knowing look during the message that says, “Are you listening?”

Remember, I grew up in church. Heck, I was on staff at a church. I love God. I love Jesus. I just hate church.

Sort of.

I think everyone deserves to give church a chance. To get beyond merely observing and analyzing, but digest the meat of the message they’re trying to convey. You are short changing your religious experience if you think you can attend church as an observer only.

It’s not fair to sit back and judge like I do. I may hate church, but…

I’ll be back next week. I have a lot to learn.

John Cockroft is a walking contradiction. His religion is worthless, but he’s real and he doesn’t lay claim to a particular seat in church. You can sit anywhere you like. He’ll gladly adjust. For more about him and his lovely wife, visit TwentyFourSevenMarriage on YouTube, or go to