I’m not sure if I’m a lightning rod for violence or if a divine force is trying to tell me something.

Last month I was lying in a hotel bed in Branson, Missouri, when I was jostled awake in the middle of the night. The entire hotel was vibrating. I remember thinking, “This is interesting. I should probably remember this.” Then I went back to sleep.

The next morning, I learned there had been a 5.2 magnitude earthquake in Illinois that was felt from Nebraska to Atlanta, in places as far-flung as Milwaukee, Louisville and Cincinnati.

Then, last night, I was again sleeping in a hotel room in the middle of the night, this time in the city of Malmo, in the southern part of Sweden. AGAIN, I was awaked by something powerful, this one shorter but more intense. I remember thinking, “This is interesting. I didn’t know Sweden had earthquakes. I’ll have to remember this.”

This morning, I found out a powerful bomb explosion ripped through a nearby apartment building.

If you can’t be safe in Sweden or Branson, where the hell can you be safe? Branson is nothing but cowboy singers. Sweden is nothing but…well, Swedes.

Actually, Sweden has been in the news more and more lately because of a wave of violence that many attribute to its influx of immigrants.

Swedish journalists are subjected more and more to threats and violence, particularly since the publication of Swedish artist Lars Vilks portrait of the Muslim prophet Muhammad as a dog, according to Reporters Without Borders.

Muslims don’t have anything against golf, do they?

If I know my Islamic history, Muhammad was, I believe, a mid-handicapper.

Loose the hounds!

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