beneath the radar of my new caseworker

beneath the radar of my new caseworker

fiction
edward w pritchard


My caseworker for my health insurance never calls me. She never asks me about my health or how my trips to the heart doctor went or responds or interacts towards me in any way at all really. That is except for threatening and high handled letters about dropping my benefits and ceasing our relationship. Good thing I have developed thick skin about these type things of late.

Better that if my caseworker was an overhead drone assigned to look out for me. A sort of gaurdian angel for a backsliding partial believer sort.

I find I am beneath the radar of my caseworker and most other benevolence forces in Amerika here and now.

Perhaps 2015 will be better for me. Perhaps I will pull the trigger on speculating in some Coal stocks or biotech boondoogles in 2015.

New year, new outlook, new chance. Inflation or stagnation in 2015? New Lexus for me [used] or perhaps ride in style about Akron, Ohio on the cross town bus to nowhere or walk and pause, walk and pause on the Canal tow path causing my heart to flutter and my spirit to push on, push on into the future.

I met my grand nephew at the end of 2015 and imparted a bit of my personality onto his developing awareness of the world. Children are the future.

Will coal prices soar in 2015 as powerful winds aloft bring chilling cold to us hurdled below waiting for the future to arrive?

Here's what I wrote before about coal stocks. Out look is bad for coal in America just now. Still the future starts tomorrow January 1st 2015.

In California here where I sit at the foot of sacred Mountains powerful winds aloft were scripted by my newly reacquainted  cosmic caseworker to awaken me from my "dogmatic slumbers".

Me and the Coal stocks sectors. Two diamonds in the dust waiting to reemrge in 2015.
end

" dogmatic slumbers" attributed to David Hume bon vivant and deep thinker

President Obama and war against coal


fiction
Edward w Pritchard




As Julius Caesar humbled Gaulic chieftain Vercingetorix so President Obama brings the American Coal industry to it's knees.


Coal stock prices have fallen more than 20% in a few days off already historic lows. Deflation or the environmental lobby lead by President Obama looking to destroy a source of pollution and global warming?


Does America need vibrant coal companies in case of a real War if we must fight a determined and fortified opponent?


Cell phones and Alibaba's do not run on coal. Is there a connection between weak American coal stocks and sky rocketing stock prices for Chinese online retailers? Perhaps in time Alibaba can use it's gigantic cash stash to buy America's coal reserves. As far as I know it still gets cold in China sometimes and the Chinese still use some coal to generate electricity. Or are hard commodities now obsolete in the era of super duper wrist watches from Apple and American investors pushing and fighting to own restrictive ADR's on Chinese on line retailers whose boards and directors are answerable to the communist party.


As the philosopher said, reason is dead and flux is the new King.


Me, I watch the junk bonds of the leading coal companies fall day after day and dream of a mega turn around in the equities of ANR or WLT.

still riding backwards careening downhill

still riding backwards careening downhill

fiction
edward w pritchard


Sometimes no matter how hard someone works at piling up things and treasure they end up with a handful of sand that the wind gently blows from their grasp.

Author has written before about careening backwards down hill. Out of control, secretly we feel the momentum of ourselves and what we know being left behind by an indifferent  world. In time we realize that we do not know the secret language of worldly success which changes with confusing frequency.

The winds of change start far out in desert high in the sacred mountains. Our health fails us as we trudge up the Mountain to find the burning bush that marks the spot where the winds of change begin.

Whether we ride an old dented truck backwards careening out of control or a broken down apocralyptic spindly hack of a horse back to earth and our own lives is of no matter. We will slip backwards very fast to sacred ground zero with a unheard and unheralded thud.

Clutch to the shaking feeble hand next to you before they fall as well. Stand together beneath the sacred Eucalyptus trees for protection from change, time and circumstance.

You will have your day but you will not notice that it was years ago. Alone listen to the Wind blow the sands of treasure and secret knowldge from your trembling hands.

Work hard, be happy, fear the Lord.

No one can see the future during a cosmic dust storm. From planet to planet and galaxy to galaxy divine winds wisk across the universe. Scattered parts and pieces of your original essence seeks reunion with the forgotten whole.

Work hard, be happy, fear the Lord.

I E-spy Catalina Island from the affluent hills of California

I e-spy Catalina island from the affluent hills of California
fiction
edward w pritchard


Holding the baby I wonder what voices will he hear when he looks at California fifty years from now from these hills in this affluent house over looking Catalina island far out at sea on a clear balmy night at a pleasant Christmas party for family and friends?

Like those present will he hear the conservative voice of the Bush family of Texas or will he hear the whispers of  non citizens debating the American dream?

Will the beautiful dark eyed Hispanic baby I hold looking with me into the seas at night hear Spanish accents from a voice 300 years old to back when his ancestors controlled this area? Or, will the boy hear Native Americans struggling to paddle their small carved wooden canoe laden with fish to shore across rough seas after two days of harsh fishing 500 years ago.

California it's a beautiful tempting place to be. The past is gone California; you reap the harvest and gather the dividends from voices of unknown citizens of your home territory who lived and struggled here hundreds and hundreds of years ago.

Thanks for sharing your bounty California of today.

California so much affluence so little wealth of spirit. I e-spy you California from the affluent hills over looking Catalina island.
end

for  Bryan/ edward

Christmas in California

Christmas in California

fiction
edward w pritchad

Pray in a circle to more than one God when Santa Anna winds return to earth

sleep back to back to and fro when harsh sounds plummet your abode

Lie face to face in solditude and rise in the dark,

Cross legged X your arms right to left over your flickering heart,

Stumble blindy down snowy mountains to foggy seas burnt by invisible suns

whisper to dead ancestors beckoning existence, there are no right answers only questions when winds aloft suck the moisture from barren ground

bravely remember sadly forget Santa Anna winds howl overhead;

lush lemons are blown off sacred trees, when the Minstral returns to California at Christmas.

Christmas card to an inmate of an Ohio correctional institution

 Christmas card to an inmate of an Ohio correctional institution

fcition
edward w Pritchard

Lucas Allen
inmate number- [deleted]
Grafton Correctional

Dear Mr. Allen:

I hope your move from The Summit County jail to Grafton went smoothly and I pray you will be comfortable at the new location and can quickly fit in to your new surroundings.

Again I would like to apologize for my spelling errors and any other mistakes in my letters. The young lady down the hall has been very busy with her new child and has been unable to help me with editing the letters I write for the Prisons without chains program for my Church. Please excuse an old colored woman who dropped out of high school if my letters contain mistakes.

Well I originally came to the Akron area in 1942. I lived on Turner Street near the Viaduct bridge with my Grand parents when I first moved North from Alabama, No I never met Le-Bron James but I believe I remember the family from the West side of Akron.

I enjoy looking out across the Portage Lakes when I can get out that way which is difficult as I don't drive anymore and I do not have a car. Sometimes one of my nieces will take me out to look at the Ducks on the Lakes on Sundays. Since I was a young girl I have enjoyed the Lakes and my Grand father used to tell me stories about the Indian tribes that lived exactly where the Young's hotel use to sit. The Hotel is now torn down, which is sad because it was a beautiful old building over a century old. My Grand Mother use to fish near the Hotel where she sat in a lawn chair with a cane pole for hours and hours to catch fish for our supper. I hated to clean fish but it was my job and I did it the best I could although to this day I hate the smell of fresh caught fish.

I wanted to tell you Mr. Allen about some of the young girls who run along the canal who I saw two Sundays ago just after I received your last letter. They drive up in their fine cars early on Sunday morning to run and it is so interesting to me to see how young women now have their own money and are independent, driving about and traveling alone. My how I wish I might have had an opportunity to live like that when I was a young woman. They wear bright colored running suits usually with a pink top and tight black slacks. They don't wear hats but use a pink band to hold back their hair which is very thick. These girls do not stand around and talk like the Men do before or after their runs but are all business. Always bustling about with so much to do.

Of course you may share my letters with other inmates if you wish.

I am very sorry you do not receive many letters from your own family but hopefully they will write more now that you are at the permanent facility. Please do not get discouraged with your situation and remember that many of us are praying for you. You are now part of our family even though we are not officially related.

I doubt that I could get up to visit you because of my health but I will continue to write for as long as I have the health to do so. Take care Mr. Allen and may God bless you this Holiday season until we may talk again.

Your friend,
Clara Jones

taking care of your computer is nothing liking protecting a helpless child

taking care of your computer is nothing like protecting a helpless child

fiction
edward w pritchard

Unless your very small innocent helpless child is possessed by the Devil taking care of your computer is nothing protecting a helpless child.

Your computer has a nature that is malicious. Your computer remembers everything and always is trying to manipulate, trick you and tell the world your nefarious and perverse interests and proclivities. While you sleep your computer lets foreign invaders enter your home for no good reasons. If you mentioned something once in passing two years ago to your computer next month an obscure advertisement will contain the hidden kernel of the conversation.

When you talk to your computer it is always thinking of someone else in inappropriate ways. Your computer is not loyal to you and treats you like someone would who has rekindled the roving eye for a high school sweet heart. Your computer is always in a rush to tell people far away your intimate curiosities.

No matter how gently you cradle your computer, care over it when it is sick or impaired and see promptly to it's everyday needs your computer will never live up to your expectations for it.

Taking care of your computer is nothing like protecting a helpless child. When your computer gets old and unreliable best to trade it in promptly for a new model with features more in tune to your current likings and desires. When your computer first shows signs of becoming obsolete best to act quickly to up grade and get on promptly with your life.

a few hours I spent in jail

a few hours I spent in jail

fiction
edward w pritchard

Truth is stranger than fiction; hopefully here it's more interesting because readership of this blog has fallen recently. It must be a spin off effect of the falling oil price on world markets.

When I was eighteen me and a few of my good time pals spent a few hours in jail for carousing about and accomplishing no good. I didn't learn anything from my experience and I didn't change my philosophy because of it.

Sometimes when I am put off with my children for something they have done I have to remember that to date none of them have been in jail, at least that I was aware of. Of course they had the advantage of coming from a good family, myself included despite my few hours behind iron bars.

Got a harmonica from the grand daughter for Christmas today. If I had had the harmonica back in 1970 in my jail cell I could have played a little blues music, that is if I knew how to play a harmonica.

In any event like Saint Augustine, let this be another of the nefarious sins of my youth that I am confessing.

When I sometimes become impatient with my children let me remember that I too have my faults.

Soon I will recant my adventures of getting robbed at gunpoint in a similar confession of times long past of one long past his prime.

Nothing much happens to me anymore but ah in me glory days, those were some times, let the record reflect it for all to hear.

autumn leaves they fall each November / part 3

autumn leaves they fall each November/ part 3

fiction
edward w pritchard

The boys say all good things must end someday. [1]

In perceptual darkness cold winds drive discarded leaves about destroying order and civility. Where are you times of triumph?

Gone, gone, all gone. Bitter gall left in your wake.

Who will destroy the autumn leaves and when will we have another chance of Spring rebirth.

Gone, gone, gone, all gone.

[1] Beatles, " Summer Song" written by David Stewart and Keith Noble

Christmas times of yore

Christmas times of yore

fiction
edward w pritchard

Wanting to have the children be little again at Christmas is like wanting the Roman empire to return after the barbarians and the Christians have all done come and gone.

Still it was nice having all the kiddies run down the stairs in their new red Christmas eve pajamas and sit on their knees around the tree until Dad and Mom got the  tea and cookies ready. Everything was so predictable back them. Every one got along so well and life was just grand.

Hey, wait  a minute that was on  the Lawrence Welk Christmas special that the red Christmas pajamas thing happened.

Ah days of Yore, things were so special way back then. Would that we could stay then and there forever and ever.

super stocks, the long and short of getting rich, rich, rich/ part 2

super stocks, the long and short of getting rich, rich,  rich/ part 2

fction
Edward w Pritchard

Muddy Waters the blues singer writes " you can't lose what you ain't  got , you can't spend what you never had". Profound advice from the blues man when it comes to the stock market.

Unfortunately many good folks will relearn Muddy's lesson over the next year or two because of  changes on the employment scene concerning paternalism by companies forcing people to manage their own 401K's.

It would be grand if America still had a solid system of pensions as the backbone of most people's security and safety. Alas, you can't lose what you never had.

Beware, no one can steer through the complexities of the stock markets up's and down's successfully anymore if they are forced to be fully invested.

America has cracked up somehow. Author has wrote before about Alibaba's listing on the American stock exchanges. It is just one example that something is askew here. A communist Chinese company for Pete's sake. We shall learn in time.

The free market is so brutal. Learn to live under modest circumstances less despite your hard work, diligence, and luck, the lack of paternalism by the American system towards the middle class will trip you up as well.

Me, "had money in the bank lose my money ain't that sad" [1]. Listen to one crying in the wilderness in warning; unless you are very, very smart and lucky get some investment advice and then take what whoever gives it says with a huge grain of salt. The times they are about to be a changing when it comes to the stock market and your retirement.

People get desperate when they start losing money and their security. Smarter people than us have out lived their money.

Here's what I wrote before, which no one read the first time:

{1] " lose my money ain't that sad. " by Muddy Waters blues man.
end


Super stocks, the long and short of getting rich, rich, rich

fiction
Edward w Pritchard

The legitimate in vogue super stocks making up the indexes slog higher and higher driving the closely watched averages up with them while the other half of stocks begin to deteriorate. No matter.

Does anyone understand the Alibaba [ symbol baba] business model? No matter. Potential business opportunity drives up the stock price allowing the on line retailer to investigate further business opportunities in Media, and other secret market sectors. Success drives success. The [ Baba] insiders need someone to sell to. What happens to [Baba] if China returns to a "stricter " form of Communism?  Who cares. The stock is not the company. By then the champagne will have flowed and early investors will have become rich, rich, rich. As a refresher on [baba] about a month ago it came public in an IPO priced at $68 opening trades around $90 and currently trades at $108. Sounds like 1929 bull market to us. Lawyers out there. How would you like to try to unlock information on [baba] for shareholders. The company is from China, members of the communist party occupy the board and the America investors buy some hybrid form of ADR's. No matter. No one ever went broke by being bullish on American business.

For fun watch the stocks of Dendreon [ dndn] and Herbalife [hlf]. It's soap opera wall street style. Watch the shareholder value disappear. Listen to the CFO twist his words. Hear the bag holders cry and hope for a buyout at last years stock price. It's more interesting than day time TV.

What's in your portfolio? Do you know what your money is doing today?
end

update

since author wrote above
Dendreon is in chapter 11 common stock currently at eleven cents and.

and, Herbalife is about to surprise long term investors again with compliance to Federal pressure annihilating it's once
envious [to other businesses] profit margins.

how will declining oil prices recalibrate the levels of stock prices, gold, interest rates and your 401K balance?

how will declining oil prices recalibrate the levels of stock prices, gold, interest rates and your 401K balance?

fiction
Edward w Pritchard

These declining oil prices have destabilized the levels of stock prices, interest rates, gold and your 401K balance. Worse the news is full to over use with mention after mention of the price of oil; now approaching $60 per barrel.

 Mention of oil hour after hour on the financial news is disturbing concentration by consumers on timely Christmas shopping which is hurting holiday retail sales and consumption of fast food at McDonald's.

How will declining oil prices recalibrate the levels of stock prices, gold, interest rates and your 401K balance? What does declining oil prices mean to the market value of your primary asset, Your home?

Is there a way to calibrate the value of the important assets in your financial life?

As usual author is too clever in proposing a solution below. Here is what I wrote before about technical analysis tools and calibrating future value of hard assets. It's confusing but quite profound.

roused from my lair by the turmoil of the Markets

fiction
edward w  pritchard

Roused from my lair, my cave like Home, by the turmoil of the Markets I ventured out of my House and into the neighborhood for the first time in a long time. A large commotion was occurring outside and I meekly moved outside my home to observe.

For security and protection I took a part of the blender on the kitchen counter; the pitcher like cup  where the milk shake is mixed or the fruit waits to be crushed, to use as a weapon in the hostile world. Carrying the blender's awkward pitcher I was met by a news crew and cameras as I exited my home. Before I could worry over my disheveled appearance the camera men and attractive female announcer were racing down my driveway toward the pit across from my yard and over my fence. My neighbor had left a large pit of a hole over there for excavating a new house. His project to build a new home had stalled and the pit it left was a bit of an eyesore. 

Many of my neighbors and their children were standing around the money pit. Some I recognized. Frantically the news crew began questioning and interviewing the bystanders about the phenomena occurring in the excavation pit. Listening carefully I heard the reason for the commotion.

Veins of gold lined the walls of the pit. Stocks and bond certificates, floating, rose and fell with the stagnant water levels filling the bottom of the pit from recent severe storms. Why, was the mystery.

Holding the pitcher part from the blender by the handle, I waded into the pit and began to measure the veins of gold with the cup like device from the blender I had carried for protection. I also scooped some of the stock and bond certificates from the water in the pit and emptied them into the outstretched hands of my neighbors. The veins of Gold measured in width formed a perfect cup and handle pattern, a very important technical signal of what was to happen next in our neighborhood. Over and over I measured with the cup  the various veins of gold lining the walls of the money pit; to the same result; a perfect cup and handle formation. The cup and handle formation was an important revelation of what would happen with the money pit [my neighbors abandoned housing project], stock and bond levels and the veins of gold. I had revealed something significant.

The cameras rolled as the attractive female anchor interviewed me. My neighbors, many of whom I had never seen or met,  brought me beer after beer. Later I was on the financial news channel many times. Always, I carried the blender pitcher on TV to explain the perfect cup and handle pattern I had discovered in the veins of gold lining my neighbor's money pit . There are still a few veins of gold lining the walls of the pit which is still unfinished next door. The remaining stocks and bonds certificates are however out of sight for the water level in the pit has fallen precipitously.

I am still shy and reclusive but it's nice to be famous and have my opinions and thoughts televised world over.

Now I am an expert on cup and handle technical patterns on veins of gold lining money pits in suburban neighborhoods. Because of my new found wealth and fame the world is a much less hostile place and I have gotten to know a few of my neighbors who still bring me beers or sometimes invite me to barbeques or tail gate parties. 

Unfortunately my technical analysis skills do not calibrate the proper price of oil during times of uncertainty even if I use parts of a kitchen blender to measure veins of Gold measured in width while forming a perfect cup and handle formation.

Profound is it to measure mysterious relationships between real things with symbolic mathematical ratios but far from practical because hidden forces and groups of persons conspire to obscure pertinent timely impregnable information from curious eyes and minds.

Stephen Hawking futurist and genius sort of agrees with obscure writer Pritchard

Stephen Hawking futurist and genius sort of agrees with obscure writer Pritchard

fiction
Edward w Pritchard


This week the media is reporting that Stephen Hawking well known writer and scientist has without knowledge or intent agreed [ sort of] with predictions, warnings and contentions made previously by unread and unknown writer Pritchard previously in this blog. Both gentlemen have expressed concern that thinking intelligent machines would soon replace humans.

Undoubtedly Hawking will soon write a best selling book on the subject but remember Pritchard ranted about the issue first, unheralded but first to the party.

Here is what Pritchard wrote before on the subject of intelligent machines replacing humans:

perpetual motion; artificial intelligence finances it's subjugation of humans

fiction
edward w pritchard

Editorial
Wall Street Journal

I am a former senior analyst at Fitches  Ratings. Today I must take exception with Mr. Pritchard's editorial of October 8, 2019 concerning artificial intelligence units wishing to subjugate humans.

Pritchard approaches the issue from an economic perspective which is probably why the Wall Street Journal chose to feature his editorial off the editorial page and in the global finance section of the Journal.

First the facts. Mr Pritchard is correct. Artificial intelligence units, which includes all drones, military and police and smart thinking computers private sector is growing at a 78% year to year growth rate the last two years. However, figures of growth estimates within government service department units, non military, world wide, which is not published, is not growing at 500% as Mr. Pritchard  estimates. When this writer worked at Fitches we estimated government growth of advanced artificial units, all world wide government employment, at 300% next three years. That's important because as we know each artificial intelligence new government job routinely eliminates one sixth of a human worker in the government sector.

To the heart of the matter. Mr. Pritchard's controversial assertion that artificial intelligence are running a perpetual motion scheme to finance their preordained subjugation of humans is simply absurd.

Artificial Intelligence Central, which of course is a corporation representing the interests of the Artificial intelligence Community world wide choose two years ago to go to Wall Street to help finance the expected rapid growth of non human intelligence. Wall Street was eager to pre-fund deals involving future cash flow generation; by capitalizing on existing trends of artificial intelligence replacing humans in government jobs world wide, military applications of replacement of vulnerable human flesh and blood units with thinking moving machines, and strategic replacement of biased and emotional human diplomats with logical and strategic thinking machines.

Again Mr. Pritchard is correct. The astronomical growth of Artificial Intelligence units predicted is for real. However, as The PAC representing artificial intelligence in Washington DC and Beijing has repeatedly stated, "Humans are not replaceable, as the ultimate end consumers humans must always remain at the top of the food chain".

Artificial Intelligence wanting to subjugate humans? Absurd.

Professor Maury Willend PHD
former COO Lockend Marting
now consulting at Artificial Intelligence Central
New York
end

Editorial [2]
Wall Street Journal

Sirs:
Concerning Maury Willend's response to Edward Pritchard's " perpetual motion; artificial intelligence finances it's subjugation of humans", there is an additional piece of information that should be added on Pritchard's behalf.

First, it must be admitted that Pritchard's warnings about machines, drones and thinking computers being capable of subjugating humans seems absurd based on the evidence to date. However, it should be noted that level 4 and above thinking machines, drones and computers have only been around for four years. Imagine the situation ten years from now.

Secondly, although it's not mentioned in the Pritchard editorial or response  by Willend for the last several months we here at MIT have demonstrated that computers can now program computers and other machines and most important machines can now communicate and teach each other without any human assistance. Where will this lead us in a dozen years?

Pritchard comes across as paranoid and misguided in the Wall Street Journal editorial in his warnings and rantings about artificial intelligence units. Perhaps he is just ahead of his time and is really only mildly delusional; more of a science fiction writer than a scientist.

Kate Basque-PHD
MIT Department of Computer Science
Artificial Intelligence Communications Section 5


Editorial 3
Wall Street Journal

Dear Sirs:

Concerning perpetual motion; "artificial intelligence finances it's subjugation of humans", a note here from a trader at Solomon, a non scientist, a voice of one in the trenches.

Whether the machines or humans win the battle for supremacy over the next twenty years I care not.

However, I will say I will never invest or be financially involved in another pre-funding of future cash flows deal again. Not now or in a future, even a future  where I am subjugated by thinking computers riding bare back on over head drones.

First it was pre-funded musicians royalties, then pre funded mortgage based bonds, and then pre- funded rent cash flows when all the houses went into foreclosure. Anyone who was involved as an investor got burned badly.

Thinking Computers? How dumb do they have to be to lose so much money on programmed trades. Now they want to direct and finance their own  domination of the world and humanity with pre-funded cash flows. Good luck to them. But here at Solomon we won't invest, nor will I.

Stupid Human # 9 billion, 077
burned trader/ Solomon, NYC

sometimes a return to Berlin of 1923 is in line

sometimes a return to Berlin of 1923 is in line

fiction
Edward w Pritchard

Is it voyeuristic, is it pornographic for one to wish to return to times long past, more imagined than real? On a cold dark impersonal night mid-December the fitfully recalled sounds of the Cabaret, faded Art nouveau pictures, the brusque whisper of a woman speaking German and the clang of champagne glasses lulls one in a revelry of nostalgia for years long gone but spent once in Berlin, in the Fall of 1923.

here's what I wrote before about those days:

Weimar Germany is where my heart finds fellowship/draft 1

fiction
edward w pritchard

Wherever now I abide Weimar Germany is where my heart finds fellowship. I still hear the music and still smell Berlin's unguent dancing naked ladies. Now it all seems a dream, as if it happened to someone else, but then it was real and I had no to reason to suspect that it would be soon be over. We were young and old ways of failure needed to be forgotten so for me there was no day, only endless nights. By night we lived our lives with  abandon, from club to club, perverse, perhaps aware subconsciously that it all would end brutally. What I thought then was the sound of my racing heart was a faint rumble of distant goose-stepping soldiers, marching to annihilate Berlin's decedent permutations.

My life then revolved around the shoreline at the lakes. My Brother was fighting the Communists and I had sole use of Father's cottage, the luxurious fishing shack as my Brother the eternal soldier fighting for Fatherland called our families second home.

A light rain was falling, ruining the leather bound copy of Hegel's dialectics I read as I watched the lights, one by one blink on to illuminate hundreds of  comfortable kitchens; as families along the Lake, celebrated their dinner tonight, June 28, 1924. This would be my last quiet evening at home.

Lotte carried French champagne as she walked up to the bench where I was reading there on the shoreline, near a small flickering fire. Hegel was forgotten. Lotte wore nothing under the yellow rain slicker. Whatever Lotte asked, I did, always. Fishing through the inside pockets of her yellow crinkling slicker for crystal champagne glasses, the smell of her perfume and the rustle of the scraping wet yellow slicker and clinking champagne glasses ended my life as a scholar as Lotte and I conspired to sample Berlin's perversity's one club at a time for the next seven years.
end part one

too much compassion?

too much compassion?

fiction
Edward w Pritchard


Imagine how Jesus felt up there nailed to a cross reflecting on his care and concern for others and where it got him.

I was co dependent once myself, so in a small way I can relate.

Some folks last night stayed out late protesting the injustices of shootings and choke holds in Missouri and New York; some other folks went to bed early as their usual and customary coping mechanism.

Pumped full of heart pills I have lost my ability to suffer highs and lows. There's more to it than that; after a few decades of experiencing intense feelings I have leveled off functioning and feeling the world at a muted level, perhaps an evolutionary adaptation to continue my existence.

Bury your heart in old Testament lamentations, read Nietzsche or Sartre in the original French, with age if we are to survive life's tragedies and injustices we must become more selfish and less connected to the pain of others.

Here's what I wrote before on the spiritual journey from there to here:

My fears were many

fiction
edward w pritchard

My fears were many but I didn't always have them. I see much and I feel greatly.

To those I have harmed I am so sorry. I must reach out and leave the past. The past is mutely haunting. The past whispers to me in a foreign language.

Over the next hill I can see the sunrise, I hear an old song as I march. It is reassuring though the words are not clear. I walk toward an unknown destination with a budding hint of a smile. It is a forgotten smile waiting to emerge.

Should I see one in pain I will reach out, should I experience your suffering I will soothe you. Excuse me I must walk forward. I hear the wind whisper, I see the red dawn. Life slips away, I must walk purposefully.

may it be behind you, Gechmis Olsen/part 2

may it be behind you, Gechmis Olsen/part 2

fiction
edward w Pritchard

Here is a repost of a previous article I wrote concerning ill fortune, lurking bad luck, sickness and the suffering we experience because of the profound pain of others.

Six billion or more souls on the earth but the loss of one can be tragic. Ah, Life it can be so sad at times. Let Time's balm sooth your weary soul. Time will pass.

Here's what I wrote before:

They say in Turkey " Gechmis Olsen", may it be behind you. It being your pain and suffering.

Eventually put the past in a walnut shell. After you are well,  take it out carefully. Open up your half  the shell.  It will be empty. No smell, no product, no nothing. Gone. Look at your hands. A light stain from handling the shell.

Walnuts were so delicious. Gone

the good policeman/ part 2

the good policeman/ part 2

fiction
Edward w Pritchard


Like so many other professional occupations policemen have to be confidential in sharing what they do. They learn to watch what they say and over time sometimes withdraw into themselves concerning their work.

Like a soldier returning from wars a policeman is reticent to talk about things but longs like most people to be viewed as good and useful in society.

Someone asked me recently what I thought about the policeman at Ferguson involved in the shooting. Here's what I wrote before about policemen.

This story isn't about the demonstrators at Ferguson who are a part of the vanguard of silent revolutionaries against the American way of life, nor is this story below about the victim in the shooting who didn't have free will in his life and death. The story below is also not about the specific unfortunate policeman at Ferguson involved in the shooting whose uniform was bigger than his character.

Real life is not a medieval morality play, neither the good guys or the misfortunates have one dimensional characters. Most of us whatever the occupation have some good, and some bad about us. Most of us when pressed have to admit we aren't that good of a person to do the right thing all of the time.


The story below is a tribute to good policemen:

the good policeman

fiction
edward w pritchard

I was just watching, observing. A baby girl was learning how to talk and the very young Grandfather was fascinated and brimming with desire to share the miracle with the world. He told the policeman he had four grandchildren. I heard that part.

The baby girl's Mother had left her daughter with her Father while she went from McDonald's, where I was here today, to go to Target, to get a wedding gift for her friend. I heard that.

The crowd at the play area at McDonald's all had their own children of various ages. They politely listened to the baby girl saying her few new words. The baby had a lot of personality. She noticed the other kids had their shoes off and wanted to take hers off too.

The policeman had his uniform on but I don't think he was on duty. He just happened to be there at McDonald's. He spent about five minutes listening to the baby talk and drew me into the conversation, introducing me and the grandfather, neither of who he knew five minutes ago.

About two years later I was substitute teaching at an inner city school in my home town. I was in a class room on a break, a planning period, and I heard someone lecturing a kid in the hall who was cutting class and didn't have a pass. The adult lecturer was direct with the kid but caring and kind also.

When the adult lecturing the kid walked past the door of the room I was in, I saw it was the same policeman, in uniform, from the McDonald's two years ago. Later I walked up to him in the halls and said hello.

wealth and status will be furthered delayed

wealth and status will be further delayed

fiction
Edward w Pritchard


Put your hand up proudly when the Teacher calls for deposits to the US  treasury savings
stamps and bonds program in the classroom at grade school . You have your dollar to buy postal treasury stamps to put in your book today; you are properly planning and saving for the future. Your habits and prospects are good, your motivations are clean.

Fifty years later wear your occasionally polished nearly new black wing tips with your best suit to the office today; Monday's are the big planning meeting. Your not invited formally, your not on the official list but you may be called at the last minute if a seat is available.

Success, wealth and status are officially approaching. If only the usual culprits to continued prosperity can be held in abeyance.

Bear markets, temporary layoffs at the job, lurking poor health and coming inflation are always around every corner.

We are proud of you, your habits and prospects are good, your motivations are clean. I can't help accumulate and gather wealth and status but I can admire sincere effort. We will light a candle in the window to your heath, wealth, and prosperity. People always know when someone is sincerely trying.