Fantasyland

Greetings gentle reader, today's offering is eye candy for those of you that enjoy stories set in the fantasy realm. For us writers it is known as 'the heroes journey', where the central character embarks on a life changing journey of discovery. Written entirely tongue-in-cheek, the following is meant to tickle your funny-bone as much as instill a sense of wonder...so without further adeiu:

It’s all Joe can do to keep a straight face.

"Uh, either way is good."

"Fine. Have you been told what needs to be done?"

"Sort of."

"Either you have or you haven’t. Which one is it?"

"Given the circumstances, I think I’d like to hear it again."

"Very well but remember, you’ve already agreed to go and it’s too late to turn back now."

"Yeah, whatever." Joe replies.

"The Heart of Magic is missing. Your job is to recover The Heart and return it here, where it belongs, got it?"

"I got that part but no one’s told me who took it and what this ‘heart’ looks like."

"The Heart of Magic is not a thing but a living being and you’ll know it when you see it. As far as we know no one took it, we only know where it went."

Joe purses his lips and shoots a frosty glance at Erin.

"All will be made clear huh?"

"What part of ‘you’ll know it when you see it’ didn’t you get?" Erin shoots back.

Joe rubs his furrowed brow and shakes his head.

"I didn’t expect this to be easy but I was expecting a little more help. Where’s this ‘guide’ they’re sending along with me?"

"Right here" replies a tiny voice that jingles like a talking wind chime. Joe stares at Ulieo in disbelief.

"This is just beautiful, you didn’t tell me that you were sending me to hell with Tinkerbell!"

Ulieo jangles with fury at the mention of the famous fairy’s name.

"Ix-nay on the inkerbell-tay if you don’t want to wear your gonads for earmuffs." Erin cautions.

"Her and what ar…Ooof!" Joe hits the ground with a thud, clutching his groin.

When Joe finally recovers it is light again and he finds himself alone in the now deserted circle of stones. He looks about for Erin and her wizard friend but they are nowhere in sight.

"What happened?" Joe croaks hoarsely.

"I think you were about to apologize to me." Ulieo tinkles coolly.

"Oh, right! Uh, I’m wicked sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you." He mumbles sincerely. And you better hope that we don’t happen upon a bugzapper somewhere in our travels or you’re toast! He thinks to himself.

"Are you ready?" Ulieo asks. Joe gingerly pulls himself erect and nods in the affirmative.

"Which way?" he grunts.

"Think you can walk to Nevermore?" Ulieo tinkles, amused.

Joe gives Ulieo an astonished look; he has an idea what the fairy is hinting at.

"No way!"

"Think happy thoughts!" Ulieo chimes as she sprinkles him with pixie dust. At first nothing happens. Then Joe recalls the Christmas when his parents gave him a pony…and he levitates off the ground.

It suddenly occurs to Joe that his parents were dirt poor and he’s lived in an apartment all his life; there never was a pony…

And he plummets towards the earth!

"Nice pony, thanks Mom and Dad!" He holds this thought until he catches up with the tiny fairy.

"Uh, I never got a pony as a kid." Joe explains.

"It doesn’t matter. The thought of getting one made you sufficiently happy." Ulieo replies.

"Well, I’ve never had a date with Barbie either. If I imagined that I had, would I go supersonic?" Ulieo does not answer but instead shoots away into the distance, leaving a sparkling trail of pixie dust for Joe to follow. Joe does his best to keep up, flying as fast as he dares.

He doesn’t want the fairy to get too big a lead or he may lose her…and he has no idea how to get out of here on his own.

The trail of pixie dust leads Joe toward what appears to be the flickering lights of a large city. The closer he gets, the larger the metropolis becomes.

"I ain’t never seen nothin’ like this in no fairy tale" Joe mutters. Ulieo’s dust trail vanishes in a rundown part of the sprawling city. Joe is startled to find himself standing at the corner of a deserted intersection, no longer aloft.

He tries to will himself back into to flight but he is unsuccessful. Either he’s all happied out or it’s more than a coincidence that he became earthbound the same place Ulieo’s trail of pixie dust gave out.

Joe reaches into his leather jacket and palms his mother of pearl handled straight razor. Joe is no stranger to the city and he knows the mean streets when he sees them.

On his own again, Joe sets off in search of the nearest bar figuring it will be the likeliest place he’ll get a handle on his quarry. He walks towards what appears to be downtown and he spots a ‘bag lady’ digging in a dumpster.

The ancient, toothless bearded hag farts and a lightening bolt shoots from her backside, instantly frying a nearby rat. The hag cackles with glee at her handiwork. She picks up the flash fried rodent by it’s thick tail and swallows it whole, followed moments later by a burp that shoots flames twenty feet into the air!

Joe gets a sinking feeling in his gut as the words ‘You’ll know it when you see it’ ring in his mind. He eyes the old girl suspiciously but decides to stick with his first impulse rather than spend any more time checking out this dangerous, albeit weird phenomenon.

His instincts serve him well and before long he sees a rowdy group exiting an alleyway, obviously drunk. Joe waits until they clear the area and cautiously enters. The alley is pitch black but a few yards ahead a single lantern illuminates a sign over a doorway. Joe smiles when he reads the sign, The Magic Harp.

In this tale I insert an average, er, self-styled tough guy into an extremely unfamilair set of circumstances...with the obvious results.

Anyway, you can read all about Joe's magical adventure in Big Question, my collection of short stories that in this instance asks, why would magical creatures require non-magical assistance?

Thanks for reading!

You are what you believe

Mary Kay (the cosmetics tycoon) is credited with the euphemism, "if you think you can, you can and if you think you can't, you're right."

Disturbingly, I find that my blog over on Goodreads has zero readers, which I find hard to fathom because the variables are unknown. Of all my Facebook freinds only my pastor is a member at goodreads (meaning the bulk of the people I grew up with classify themselves as 'non-readers'.

Not necessarily a bad thing but not something I find particularly helpful, especially when the purpose of my blog is to raise awareness of various disturbing developments in the underpinnings of our society.

Left to our, er, 'imagination' is where the 'fourth estates' loyalties lie, to the public or to their shareholders?

Worse, nor overlay the concept of you are what you think you are and reflect on how chilling a lying media can have on the public well-being.

For example follow this link then ponder why no US news outlet reported the hack never mind any of the released information...don't suppose it might be damaging for the public to learn what's going on between US financial concerns and Saudi rulers?

But equally as disturbing to me is how the same people charged with 'keeping the public informed' also happen to be some of the most highly compensated individuals in our badly broken society? [raising the question of how instrumental were they in creating today's massive social imbalances? I'd opine 'crucial'!]

Which is to ask, how 'free' is the press we are currently saddled with? Can the minders of the one percent be relied upon when they share the interests of our collective oppressors?

More disturbing is if these individuals want to retain their lofty perches, the must tow the line drawn by none other than their shareholders, a majority of whom are members of our freshly minted billionaire class.

How sad is it good citizen that I'm old enough to remember when the world was gifted with it's first 'billionaire' (how queer is it that since our first reported 'for real' billionaire, the media has gone back into the historic record to make many more of them by 'modernizing' the fortunes of old.

While this report indicates the flunkies of the billionaire class are paid in annual multi-million dollar salaries, justified by the salaries other 'entertainers' make, how much of what passes for 'news' is actually 'info-tainment?

I know I belabor the obvious but stories like this make me edgy.

Thanks for letting me inside your head,

Who will lead?

Greetings gentle reader,

Today's offering looks at the grim circumstances spelled out by my first novel, 'Unplugged' which tracks the tribulations of one survivor of a global blackout during the first month post-collapse. Considering there isn't a plague involved or a thermo-nuclear crisis to deal with, you'd think 'a few days' without electricity or telephones would leave society fairly intact...assuming the delivery trucks kept running and the police could be summoned whenever trouble broke out.

But wait! Almost nobody can 'work' without electricity and then we'd have the whole 'who's in charge?' issue to contend with.

Are the guys you elected to 'town government' up to the task of providing emergency services to the community with zero resources of their own? (Most towns have 'privatized' their emergency services as a 'cost cutting' measure, but that's because the morons were educated by the same school system that YOU attended and neither of you have a clue what money is or what its for!)

So we begin:

“People, I have buses on there way here to take any injured or ill among you to our infirmary. Anyone who is hungry or lacks clean water please line up on the left side of the auditorium, sick to the right… Okay sick and hungry need only get in the sick line, we’ll feed you there.” I add, noting some folks can’t decide which they are, sick or hungry.

A few dozen people including all the town leaders remain seated.

“I want all of you who are neither sick or hungry to come to the stage area please.”

I motion the ‘Leader’ group over to me.

“You’ve got a little help here, go to your store room and get supplies for your people.” I tell them.

“We don’t have any.” Ted says.

“You don’t look like you’ve missed any meals Ted, why is that?” I ask.

“I own the store.” He replies smugly.

“Quiz me this Ted. Are you making people pay for food even though they aren’t getting paid?”

“Of course! It’s not my fault they can’t get at their money! Business is Business! I’ve been letting the ‘credit worthy’ charge their stuff but I can’t take a chance on everybody!” Ted exclaims like I have just asked him a stupid question.

“Big mistake Ted.” I reply flatly as I draw the Beretta. “What are you going to do with that?” Ted blubbers. I kill him where he stands.

There is a stunned silence at the sound of gunshots inside the auditorium, followed by a low murmur and then a cry. “Three Cheers for Greg Andrews!” And they do.

“The rest of you miserable bums better RUN to the store and get supplies back here pronto!” I bark. Bob and his cronies take off double time. Some of the others just stand there.

“I take it you folks are fellow business owners who have been allowed to charge food at the store?” I snarl. They all nodded their heads slowly, not wanting to admit to being the privileged few but more afraid of pissing me of, like Ted had.

“Well folks, you know the value of hard work, I suggest you make tracks behind your ‘buddies’ and DO SOME.” I bark. They didn’t need to be told twice. I have Bucky radio his people to ensure there isn’t any loading up and getting out of town with the goods going on.

After the well to do scurry off it happens again.

“Three Cheers for Greg Andrews!” And they do, more heartily than the first time. Nick and his people arrive with four buses. I help triage the really sick from those not so bad off. We fill every seat on all four buses but that is all of them so we only need to make one trip. I sent some folks over to the food line after hearing their main complaint is stomach pains without the fever and nausea. About a half hour later the former leaders and their helpers come back wheeling overloaded shopping carts into the auditorium. I like to think they are doing the right thing rather than being cowed at the sight of a dozen heavily armed men in full combat armor.

I learn from one of the school custodians that the stoves in the school kitchen are on bottled gas and still work. Apparently this was a ‘sweetheart deal’ with the local LNG supplier when the school had been renovated a year ago. A bit of beneficial graft for once.

I get a team together and we cook pasta for the first hot meal many of these people have eaten in a week. I make the sauce myself.

“Three cheers for Greg Andrews!” And they do, nearly shaking the rafters in the auditorium this time. Who the fuck keeps doing that I wonder? The auditorium has translucent skylights and the room brightens considerably as the sun begins to shine. I should have noticed my newfound flunkies were dry when they returned. Bucky’s people need to get out of the sun! This black combat armor is hot enough without adding steamy afternoon sunshine.


After everyone has eaten their fill I make a few announcements. I tell them of the orphans we rescued from Newburyport and how the need for foster parents is critical. I also tell them to assemble here in the morning to sign up for the team of their choice. Representatives of all our teams will be here in the morning to explain what each team does.

I put out a call for anyone with professional baking experience. Now that we have working ovens we can start bread production first thing in the morning. Fred will still have to build the hearth as planned since the gas won’t hold out forever. We urgently need bread and demand just got kicked up another notch.

“You’re all free to go home now.” I finish.

“Three Cheers for Greg Andrews!” Someone cries and they do. This time the roar is deafening. I’m a big hit with the general population. The former well to do just stand there frowning. They wear expressions of disdain with how the ‘rabble’ is carrying on. I am curious how many of them will be still be here in the morning as I’m not the only one paying attention to who isn’t cheering. I figure the privileged few are thinking I’ll get mine when the ‘proper authorities’ take control again. Their smug expressions say, ‘We saw you murder a man in cold blood, right here in front of us and we won’t let you get away with that!’ Yeah, they’d cheer when I got mine.

Funny how the boss seldom has the patience to be a good worker. It will be most interesting to see how many of them I’ll have to exile for slouching. They believe in their future. I believe in mine.

While this is a 'fictional' account of how things may play out, one thing is for certain. The 'Hamiltonian' ethic of 'let those who own the community, run the community' [Let those who own the land, rule the land] will be the rule rather than the exception...and unlikely scenes like the 'liberation' of a neighboring town will be unlikely because the 'usual suspects' will protect 'their interests' at the expense of everybody else.

Although it is this same 'paranoia' the will doom these fearful 'owners' to being preyed upon by gangs of mauraders, worse, they will eventually be overrun, enslaved and stripped of their possessions by the same kind of opportunists they are!

Yet they still won't appreciate the 'irony'.

To be an effective leader, you must be able to see beyond the end of your own nose and put the interests of the many ahead of those of the few...and in this respect, with precious few exceptions, there are no 'effective leaders' in our current corrupt government today.

My novel was a little ahead of it's time but it isn't 'out-dated' by any stretch of the imagination.

So the next time the lights go out, ponder if it's an 'accident' or a grab for what remains of your so-called 'rights'.

Thanks for letting me inside your head...

The Eye

Greeting good citizen!

Today we do a 180 and I'm going to write about one of the offerings in my latest work, Big Questions.

Let's start with an excerpt (to see if I can whet some appetites around here:)

Colonizing space is an expensive proposition and the Baron had no intention of footing the entire tab alone. The building of the ship and stocking it for a long mission would create millions of jobs, jobs that were desperately needed by the governments of the world.

Like every great endeavor intended to benefit all mankind, the world’s governments competed for contracts with The Eye of Orion Corporation, often building facilities and training workers at the public’s expense.

In exchange for the use of public funds, the Baron and the UN made a compromise where the Baron would submit a Constitution and a Bill of Rights for the eventual inhabitants of The Eye of Orion, once the colony became ‘viable’. Until then, the colony would be run as a corporation with the colonists being considered ‘employees’.

The contents of these two important documents and at what point the colony would be considered ‘viable’ were left entirely up to the Baron with the UN being named as the nominal ‘overseer’ of this process.

This little factoid about the colony eventually becoming a full fledged republic could be found in extremely fine print on the back of page thirty-one of the colonist agreement. The front of these contracts spelled out vague land grants and, depending on who it was, bestowed nominal titles upon the signatory that were granted by the nominal Emperor, who was none other than the Baron himself.

Once word got out that the Baron was setting up a monarchy in space, the media had a field day. Despite the negative publicity (or perhaps aided by it) those who liked the idea of getting in on the ground floor of the next big thing plunked down buckets of cash to secure for themselves a Duchy or Barony on ‘The Eye’.

Um, this is just the tip of one of the icebergs floated by this cautionary tale. It also highlights the need for our species to alter how we go about bestowing decision-making ability upon people that often have zero qualifications to make those decisions...(remember yesterday's college educated idiots...which is not to say that everybody with a degree is a moron, (even if it seems that way sometimes.)

The Framus enjoyed twice it's normal compliment of visitors and, as usual I am baffled as to why some days this is metropolis and why most days it's a desert (although yesterday's post was somewhat left of the ol' 'reservation'.)

But I digress. If you want a position of responsibility what is the first thing you're required to do? You have to prove you're qualified!

Why does this requirement vanish once money enters the equation? Money definitly isn't brains but our old pal 'Stupid' apparently can't figure that out.

So why do we stand there twiddling our thumbs while the rich rip the rest of us off? Is it because the average member of law enforcement isn't smart enough to recognize when a crime is being commited...or worse, it's not a crime if a rich person does it? (Which is to opine that our ENTIRE (in)-Justice System' needs to be thrown out and rebuilt.)

Worse, the rich dude golfs with the Judge so he can get away just about anything because the Country club hasn't had an opening on it's membership roster since WWII.

Let me put a finer point on this...Justice, of the people and by the people means there isn't a 'judge' to override the jury, the jury IS the judge! (that kind of power shouldn't rest in any individual's hands, just ask one, they'll tell you...or slap you with contempt and have you jailed...just because they can.

We have to put an end to this kind of, er, BS.

as always, thank you for letting me inside your head...

One thing leads to another...

Greetings good citizen,

Today I, er, 'stepped in it' so to speak. A friend posted a blurb that basically said Bernie Sanders, (Democratic candidate for president...despite not being a democrat, which is fine by me.) supports the idea of free college for all who choose that route.

Well, the feed is getting a tepid at best response, and while life offers us countless opportunities to keep our mouths shut, I 'opined' that what makes a college degree 'valuable' is their (relative) scarcity. While society would 'theoretically' benefit from an over-all 'smarter' populous, would we really? Which is to point out that almost everybody in a position of power these days possesses a college degree and look at the mess our socio-economic climate is (nevermind the climate itself!)

You won't find an educator out there willing to admit that our (or anybody else's for that matter) school system teaches critical reasoning skills because it's something either you were born with or you weren't.

Thus the axiom, 'stupid is permanent, ignorance can be fixed'

Worse, the not so bright will argue that it isn't true, that they are indeed intelligent while spouting all manners of nonsense!

Sadly, this proves the axiom...how unfortunate is it that those who are bold enough to share this observation run the risk of being labeled likewise...and whose to say the claim isn't true as well?

Yet another conundrum!

Thanks for letting me inside your head,

Desperation

Greetings good citizen;

Once again I have decided to bless you with a dose of what passes for wisdom (in a world apparently devoid of it.) Worse, when you're the one dispensing it, you also get to define what is or isn't (not that you have to agree.)

Perhaps that will be the first pearl we can agree to disagree about, wisdom is where you find it.

Like the parent that visits his critically injured child in the hospital and dryly shares the observation "bet you don't do that again!"

Is this wisdom or simply belaboring the obvious? You choose.

But I digress. (Something I do frequently and aging isn't helping...even a little.)

The topic dujuor is Desperation...that relentless desire for things/situations to turn out other than the way they are currently going.

And try as we may, no life is free from the base root of desperation, which is to say none of us are completly free of despair. (If I don't sound like the adult in my earlier example I certainly feel like him.)

To a degree, there is much to fret over, no denying it. What troubles me more often than not is how the media is always waving red flags that only a few people care about.

Is this due to their 'journalistic responsibility' to not agitate the public or are they really that clueless?

Just as 'the Working Class' has disappeared from the media's lexicon (replaced with the more nebulous 'Middle Class'...which is indeed a different animal altogether from that newly minted animal that ocassionally pops up in the media dubbed 'The working poor')

Time to repeat one of my classic memes, If you can't live on what your boss pays you, it's not your bosses problem, it's YOURS!

Little things like this, the growing ranks of the working poor coupled with rising prices the so-called 'economists' among us consistently ignore are indeed fueling a larger shared sense of 'desperation'.

That and a majority of the current population sprinting for the nursing home...well, pardon me because in my humble opinion, things are looking mighty desperate for the vast majority of us.

So I leave you to ponder if this is wisdom, belaboring the obvious or nonsense.

You (as always) get to decide for yourself.

Thanks for letting me inside your head!

An undeniable trend

Around the globalized world we have seen 'surprising' and 'upset' victories pulled off by one decidedly unpopular political party and they just did it again in England.

Coincidence? Hardly. Only one other, er, medium, is predominantly OWNED by the minority that profess conservative leanings. ANd what does this medium do? it informs us.

And for decades we have been protesting the stilted manner it performs this task which is the primary reason for it's existence. (Don't be mislead good citizen, the politics nor the beliefs held in the hearts of those who delivering the message are not necessarily in agreement with their employer but if they wish to keep their situations they do what they're told and don't rock the boat.)

It is a strong accusation to make but the results repeatedly defy logic and simple mathematics. Just as 1 percent is less that 99, 25% conservative bias isn't enough to win a single election.

Yet they do...and the 'excuse' given for this unlikelyhood is 'dissatisfaction'.

Now, more than ever, the electorate is dissatisfied with conservative governance (or, more succinctly the decided lack thereof!) yet our conservative owned media continues to announce ever more unlikely conservative victories around the globe.

That uncomfortable feeling in the pit of your stomach is the knowledge something is very wrong and we don't possess the tools to fix it.

That said, we don't have a lot of options.

I know it's boorish to belabor the obvious but you won't hear this from our of the bought and paid for conservo-whacko media.

Thanks for letting me inside your head...