the case of endless discovery; a shooting,a snow storm, and an attorney with nice legs
fiction
edward w pritchard
My sister who didn't like me's Daughter my niece the Judge had assigned me to the case as second backup court reporter and the 12th discovery interview [ session] was off to a bad start here at Glory Days bar where Counsel for Plantiff, Rodeo who worked full time as a chef-'s, client who had been dragged 3/4 of a mile in her new Porsche by a Pepsi Truck; was concocting us a Mexican breakfast
here at 7 AM prior to us convening our hearing. As my niece the Judge had emphatically ordered me, because this was the case from Hell, creating the need for 12 discovery sessions, I was handwriting a list of what had delayed us today as we waited for my breakfast and lead defense counsel for Pepsi to show to start things off.
attorney for Plantiff-Rodeo[ Johnson] locally famous chef
second attorney for Pepsi -Miss K-[nice legs]
causes for today's delay-bad snow storm, fatal shooting in bar last night at 4am- police swarming about
It appears once again this case will not move forward as events have conspired to cause the need for a 13th discovery hearing.
end-a memory play
Thursday, February 7, 2019
Wednesday, February 6, 2019
lamentations from a dead man tongue
lamentation from a dead man's tongue
fiction
edward w pritchard
In our temporary grief with an indifferent world sometimes we must look to the ancients for consolation.
Muddy Waters succinctly says it all : " you can't spend what you ain't got" and "you can't lose what you never had".
After the harmonica has stopped coughing, after the electric guitar has stopped crying, and after the piano has stopped thumping morning comes and life moves on.
Insidiously the days pile away. Muddy Waters implores rejuvenating nature which created us: blow wind, blow wind and when the winds return something forgotten is gone.
fiction
edward w pritchard
In our temporary grief with an indifferent world sometimes we must look to the ancients for consolation.
Muddy Waters succinctly says it all : " you can't spend what you ain't got" and "you can't lose what you never had".
After the harmonica has stopped coughing, after the electric guitar has stopped crying, and after the piano has stopped thumping morning comes and life moves on.
Insidiously the days pile away. Muddy Waters implores rejuvenating nature which created us: blow wind, blow wind and when the winds return something forgotten is gone.
Tuesday, February 5, 2019
render unto Caesar
render unto Caesar
fiction
edward w pritchard
Of all the chains that restrict and bind us none so odious as the invisible hand of government in the marketplace.
Driving a car, owning property, buying anything legally and consuming heat, water and light soon come to be taxed directly or indirectly by local, state or federal government. Of course earning money to buy things and pay the taxes is first taxable a portion before received.
Henri David Thoreau was aimlessly and harmlessly strolling about Massachusetts in the 19th century
probably observing the squirrels at work when he chanced to meet local tax collector Sam Staples.
Lo, Henri found out he owed a poll tax past due six years of a few hundred dollars in today's money. Probably to cover the fact he didn't have that kind of money handy Thoreau used his objection to slavery as manifest through the federal governments invasion of Mexico in 1846 as his reason not to pay the tax and Thoreau promptly found himself in jail.
Of course poll taxes are illegal today but still exist in other odious forms. All Americans must have a mailing address so tax collector Sam Staples can easily find you. Should your mailing address not be known as evidenced by your one and only address on your updated driver's license; it is a Patriot Act violation.
Keep pedaling the bicycle that takes you into the future as fast as you can. At least one department of government has plans to turn you over to a collection agency for something ordinary but indispensable you will soon do that is now legal and customary but is soon to be made illegal making you an enemy of the people.
Chaucer the Englishman said it best, and I shall try to follow his advice " we mustn't take the game too seriously".
fiction
edward w pritchard
Of all the chains that restrict and bind us none so odious as the invisible hand of government in the marketplace.
Driving a car, owning property, buying anything legally and consuming heat, water and light soon come to be taxed directly or indirectly by local, state or federal government. Of course earning money to buy things and pay the taxes is first taxable a portion before received.
Henri David Thoreau was aimlessly and harmlessly strolling about Massachusetts in the 19th century
probably observing the squirrels at work when he chanced to meet local tax collector Sam Staples.
Lo, Henri found out he owed a poll tax past due six years of a few hundred dollars in today's money. Probably to cover the fact he didn't have that kind of money handy Thoreau used his objection to slavery as manifest through the federal governments invasion of Mexico in 1846 as his reason not to pay the tax and Thoreau promptly found himself in jail.
Of course poll taxes are illegal today but still exist in other odious forms. All Americans must have a mailing address so tax collector Sam Staples can easily find you. Should your mailing address not be known as evidenced by your one and only address on your updated driver's license; it is a Patriot Act violation.
Keep pedaling the bicycle that takes you into the future as fast as you can. At least one department of government has plans to turn you over to a collection agency for something ordinary but indispensable you will soon do that is now legal and customary but is soon to be made illegal making you an enemy of the people.
Chaucer the Englishman said it best, and I shall try to follow his advice " we mustn't take the game too seriously".
Sunday, February 3, 2019
observe the Shemittah
observe the Shemittah
fiction
edward w pritchard
Walking through a small village back in bible times a man sitting on a rock thinking stopped Jesus who was passing by with his disciples and ask him " Master should a man still observe the Shemittah"
Jesus stopped and sat and on the ground near the man and as all the disciples found a spot on the ground to sit and listen Jesus answered the man's question thus.
Jesus- One day 2,0000 years in the future a country which is the richest on earth will have a debt crisis causing three thousand persons per day to default on their student loans. Panicked the money lenders will pass and enact many laws to collect what is legally owed them. At first the crisis will not trouble most persons for they have a proper job and did not make the mistake of borrowing non productive money that has come to be difficult to pay back. In time however that rich and powerful country found out that an economy is like a boat and small hole in the boat in time can cause everyone to be thrown in to the cold waters far from the safety of the shore.
fiction
edward w pritchard
Walking through a small village back in bible times a man sitting on a rock thinking stopped Jesus who was passing by with his disciples and ask him " Master should a man still observe the Shemittah"
Jesus stopped and sat and on the ground near the man and as all the disciples found a spot on the ground to sit and listen Jesus answered the man's question thus.
Jesus- One day 2,0000 years in the future a country which is the richest on earth will have a debt crisis causing three thousand persons per day to default on their student loans. Panicked the money lenders will pass and enact many laws to collect what is legally owed them. At first the crisis will not trouble most persons for they have a proper job and did not make the mistake of borrowing non productive money that has come to be difficult to pay back. In time however that rich and powerful country found out that an economy is like a boat and small hole in the boat in time can cause everyone to be thrown in to the cold waters far from the safety of the shore.
Saturday, February 2, 2019
me exaggerate; never
me exaggerate; never
fiction
edward w pritchard
note: out of love and respect the names have been used to honor those gone before us
Someone has accused author of exaggerating concerning some fine Cuban cigars. Me exaggerate; never. Poetic license maybe, bluff at Poker and refuse to show the hole cards of course, lie as relatively customary yes, but never to exaggerate.
My career as a small time story teller began at age four. It began as follows.
My dad and his older sister were about the two smartest children growing up back in the 1920's down in the coal field down Morgantown, West Virginia. My Dad's sister grew up to be one of the first school principals down WVA way. Out of love for her brother my Aunt Megan the Principal took it on her self to learn me some manners and how to properly behave at a young age.
Family lore says when I was four when I told my Aunt Megan the following story:
Ed Jr, [ me] was forbidden by his Father to enter the fenced in pasture behind the farm they rented because Ed Sr.new from experience cows and bulls are dangerous. Naturally the boy ventures into the pasture and narrowly escapes the bull. This part of the story is true. However telling the story later to my Aunt Megan to enhance the story I said at the same time the bull was chasing me as a four year old boy from the sky came lightening bolts which chased me one at a time close behind until I got through the fence. She liked to retell that story of mine over and over and on a small scale I became one of her stock characters when she talked about her students and boys in general.
My aunt who was one of the smartest people I knew later developed Alzheimer's decease the last ten years of her life and when I last braved the icy mountain roads of WVA in Winter to see her she was laying thin and alone on a bed with no blanket. Patiently I told the head RN that I had once worked in a nursing home and my Aunt was special to me and could she please give the ex school principal a blanket. Her only son, my Cousin the black belt, one of the toughest guys I know told me later he could only see his Mom as she was the last ten years of her life when he was drunk. And that's the hard truth..
fiction
edward w pritchard
note: out of love and respect the names have been used to honor those gone before us
Someone has accused author of exaggerating concerning some fine Cuban cigars. Me exaggerate; never. Poetic license maybe, bluff at Poker and refuse to show the hole cards of course, lie as relatively customary yes, but never to exaggerate.
My career as a small time story teller began at age four. It began as follows.
My dad and his older sister were about the two smartest children growing up back in the 1920's down in the coal field down Morgantown, West Virginia. My Dad's sister grew up to be one of the first school principals down WVA way. Out of love for her brother my Aunt Megan the Principal took it on her self to learn me some manners and how to properly behave at a young age.
Family lore says when I was four when I told my Aunt Megan the following story:
Ed Jr, [ me] was forbidden by his Father to enter the fenced in pasture behind the farm they rented because Ed Sr.new from experience cows and bulls are dangerous. Naturally the boy ventures into the pasture and narrowly escapes the bull. This part of the story is true. However telling the story later to my Aunt Megan to enhance the story I said at the same time the bull was chasing me as a four year old boy from the sky came lightening bolts which chased me one at a time close behind until I got through the fence. She liked to retell that story of mine over and over and on a small scale I became one of her stock characters when she talked about her students and boys in general.
My aunt who was one of the smartest people I knew later developed Alzheimer's decease the last ten years of her life and when I last braved the icy mountain roads of WVA in Winter to see her she was laying thin and alone on a bed with no blanket. Patiently I told the head RN that I had once worked in a nursing home and my Aunt was special to me and could she please give the ex school principal a blanket. Her only son, my Cousin the black belt, one of the toughest guys I know told me later he could only see his Mom as she was the last ten years of her life when he was drunk. And that's the hard truth..
the rarest of sandal woods
the rarest of sandal woods
fiction
edward w pritchard
At one of my many jobs I had to pay my way through college one of my female coworkers acted what I considered at the time rather forward and invited me to her house for dinner. Her being attractive I accepted her offer although I scarcely knew her.
As I drove up to the address she had given me I realized quickly that I best not park my old car in the winding driveway and I wondered if the Lambrusco wine I had brought for postprandial seduction purposes was appropriate for such a fine mansion.
Both the Mother and Father were very polite to me. The Father showed me his wine cellar when we put the bottle of wine I had brought on ice and the Mother lifted up both silk table cloths to show me the sandalwood 12 chair dinner table which had a slight odor of old money and had been hand made in Asia.
We had our dinner in courses and there was a different plate with each fine food and there was a lady in a white apron who carried the used plates to the kitchen between stages of our repast.
After dinner the Father and uncle and I had a cigar on the back porch overlooking the swimming pool. Later the daughter showed me the grounds as we walked off our meal as she put her hand on my forearm as we walked about. However I didn't move things along as usual with the girl and I never called her back.Thinking of her now 50 years later I can't remember her first or last name or exactly what street the family lived on although it is no more than twenty miles from where I now sit. I still can remember vividly the smell of the sandalwood Asian dinner table and the smell of the Cuban cigars I smoked with the Father and uncle. I think the uncle's name was Maurice.
Later today I see my grand daughter play basketball and tomorrow I see my 14 month other grand daughter and my three year old grandson. To me my three grand children are all the world.
Sometimes I remember my Father bringing me a new bike home from work when I was four and him pushing me down the long driveway and me not knowing how to use the brakes and me getting hung up in a half century old rosebush at the bottom of the drive at the farm we rented and how my Mother cried when my Father used a pair of pliers to pull the thorns out of my arms and chest. Other times I remember a girl I can't recall hand on my forearm and wonder if things in life are preordained or just random.
fiction
edward w pritchard
At one of my many jobs I had to pay my way through college one of my female coworkers acted what I considered at the time rather forward and invited me to her house for dinner. Her being attractive I accepted her offer although I scarcely knew her.
As I drove up to the address she had given me I realized quickly that I best not park my old car in the winding driveway and I wondered if the Lambrusco wine I had brought for postprandial seduction purposes was appropriate for such a fine mansion.
Both the Mother and Father were very polite to me. The Father showed me his wine cellar when we put the bottle of wine I had brought on ice and the Mother lifted up both silk table cloths to show me the sandalwood 12 chair dinner table which had a slight odor of old money and had been hand made in Asia.
We had our dinner in courses and there was a different plate with each fine food and there was a lady in a white apron who carried the used plates to the kitchen between stages of our repast.
After dinner the Father and uncle and I had a cigar on the back porch overlooking the swimming pool. Later the daughter showed me the grounds as we walked off our meal as she put her hand on my forearm as we walked about. However I didn't move things along as usual with the girl and I never called her back.Thinking of her now 50 years later I can't remember her first or last name or exactly what street the family lived on although it is no more than twenty miles from where I now sit. I still can remember vividly the smell of the sandalwood Asian dinner table and the smell of the Cuban cigars I smoked with the Father and uncle. I think the uncle's name was Maurice.
Later today I see my grand daughter play basketball and tomorrow I see my 14 month other grand daughter and my three year old grandson. To me my three grand children are all the world.
Sometimes I remember my Father bringing me a new bike home from work when I was four and him pushing me down the long driveway and me not knowing how to use the brakes and me getting hung up in a half century old rosebush at the bottom of the drive at the farm we rented and how my Mother cried when my Father used a pair of pliers to pull the thorns out of my arms and chest. Other times I remember a girl I can't recall hand on my forearm and wonder if things in life are preordained or just random.
Friday, February 1, 2019
second best seat in the part 2
second best seat in the house part 2
fiction
edward w pritchard
After death everyone comes to find out that heaven and hell are the same place.
At a small folding card table in heaven/hell somewhere far off Aristophanes the Greek Comic play right writer of Lysistrata, Frogs,clouds,etc, Saint Augustine prolific Christian writer of "the city of God , and James Booker New Orleans piano virtuoso who played "goodnight sweetheart " at the end of his shift nightly at the piano bar are all dead and together always, seemingly forever when in walks just dead ornery Australian feminist Germaine Greer carrying a small folding chair. She must decide who to sit next to and she has been told once she chooses a seats she can't move, never for eternity
Before Aristophanes or Saint Augustine can speak, bow or assist James Booker tells Greer the following joke:
"an old man is dying in a hospital and has just requested for the nurse to remove the tube down his throat so he can say one last thing to his wife of 67 years -- the man asks his wife--honey why didn't you ever let me decide what to name any of our six children-- always honest the wife says -- I thought their fathers should do that"
Greer sits next to Booker seemingly for eternity saying "shame there is no piano"and with that eternity begins anew.
fiction
edward w pritchard
After death everyone comes to find out that heaven and hell are the same place.
At a small folding card table in heaven/hell somewhere far off Aristophanes the Greek Comic play right writer of Lysistrata, Frogs,clouds,etc, Saint Augustine prolific Christian writer of "the city of God , and James Booker New Orleans piano virtuoso who played "goodnight sweetheart " at the end of his shift nightly at the piano bar are all dead and together always, seemingly forever when in walks just dead ornery Australian feminist Germaine Greer carrying a small folding chair. She must decide who to sit next to and she has been told once she chooses a seats she can't move, never for eternity
Before Aristophanes or Saint Augustine can speak, bow or assist James Booker tells Greer the following joke:
"an old man is dying in a hospital and has just requested for the nurse to remove the tube down his throat so he can say one last thing to his wife of 67 years -- the man asks his wife--honey why didn't you ever let me decide what to name any of our six children-- always honest the wife says -- I thought their fathers should do that"
Greer sits next to Booker seemingly for eternity saying "shame there is no piano"and with that eternity begins anew.
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