Joining the invisible army
fiction
edward w pritchard
I awoke to find myself preparing to fight against the Spanish soldiers, me allied with the American Indians down Mexico way around the year 1530. The Spanish soldiers were well armored and rode heavy on their powerful horses. Small in number but properly armed with the technology and weapons of the day.
I was with the Indians and although I didn't speak their language I was aligned to their cause of the past. Through the study of history I had an expertise in their situation, methods and probable success against this powerful foe we faced in a few moments.
The Spanish troops slowly rode toward our position. They were high up on a small hill slowly riding the powerful horses toward us, a small number of Indian soldiers and myself. It was dark and starless out and the moon had deserted the sky. The Indians braves and I were hiding in attack on the ground in high weeds about five feet apart. We clutched light but lethal thin iron spears, an anachronism for these Indians to hold, but effective weapons in close hand to hand combat. I rolled back a few flops and stared up waiting for the Spanish, anxious for combat, powerfully clutching the spear.
As the first horse walked over me its feet sunk into the dry dusty ground from the weight it carried. Looking to my left I nodded to my fellow warriors to prepare to strike with our iron spears. The Indian warriors I fought with were suddenly man shaped heaps of bleached white bones. There are no flies in fiction so the Indians were regal in decay; but no longer effective partners in battle. Alone I faced the Spanish soldiers; soldiers and an enemy who were all to real. Staring down at me they seemed sympathetic to my heroic plight. Man to man they looked across at each other unsure for the moment how to attack me.
I had joined the invisible army of the past and apparently I had chosen the wrong side to ally myself with. The strong win it seemed despite the righteousness of the cause. Still I clutched my iron spear, twenty against one or no, prepared and ready.
Friday, November 26, 2010
Thursday, November 25, 2010
BeAndrea was hot stuff
BeAndrea was hot stuff
fiction
edward w pritchard
I found it offensive that Beandrea was only interested in me for a sexual fling. My friends thought I was nuts. We were young and Beandrea was hot stuff.
When I found out we were still involved. I used my key and went into her apartment when she was at work and took ten of the left shoes of her favorite pairs of expensive sets of shoes and donated the shoes in two brown bags to the Goodwill over on Cuyahoga Falls Avenue.
It's been forty years and I still wake up with a smile on my face now and then thinking of BeAndrea going to the Goodwill trying to reclaim her left shoes. I guess BeAndrea was hot stuff to be able to wake up a man with a smile forty years after the agglutination.
fiction
edward w pritchard
I found it offensive that Beandrea was only interested in me for a sexual fling. My friends thought I was nuts. We were young and Beandrea was hot stuff.
When I found out we were still involved. I used my key and went into her apartment when she was at work and took ten of the left shoes of her favorite pairs of expensive sets of shoes and donated the shoes in two brown bags to the Goodwill over on Cuyahoga Falls Avenue.
It's been forty years and I still wake up with a smile on my face now and then thinking of BeAndrea going to the Goodwill trying to reclaim her left shoes. I guess BeAndrea was hot stuff to be able to wake up a man with a smile forty years after the agglutination.
Wednesday, November 24, 2010
travel strickly fantasy
travel strictly fantasy
fiction
edward w pritchard
It's 10:30 PM the night before Thanksgiving 2010. I have decided to travel in my mind to Paris tonight for a few hours of walking after dark and then to New York City tomorrow morning for a stroll through upper East side near Lexington and Park Ave at 67th to 80th. After breakfast in New York I will go to the museum. A light breakfast for I had some absinthe last night in Paris. Maybe the medieval museum at the Cloisters. Too bad I didn't have the same mindset when I actually went to those places before. Now I am at leisure and very appreciative of the beauty and joie de vivre about me. Feeling better about 1PM Thanksgiving day maybe a beer and a deli sandwich to celebrate the Thanksgiving holiday. I have a lot to be thankful for anymore.
fiction
edward w pritchard
It's 10:30 PM the night before Thanksgiving 2010. I have decided to travel in my mind to Paris tonight for a few hours of walking after dark and then to New York City tomorrow morning for a stroll through upper East side near Lexington and Park Ave at 67th to 80th. After breakfast in New York I will go to the museum. A light breakfast for I had some absinthe last night in Paris. Maybe the medieval museum at the Cloisters. Too bad I didn't have the same mindset when I actually went to those places before. Now I am at leisure and very appreciative of the beauty and joie de vivre about me. Feeling better about 1PM Thanksgiving day maybe a beer and a deli sandwich to celebrate the Thanksgiving holiday. I have a lot to be thankful for anymore.
North Korea/South Korea
North Korea/South Korea
fiction
edward w pritchard
Avoid foreign entanglements America.
The United States continues to police the world, far away in Asia. China drives up the price of everything for everyone, too busy accumulating all the world's wealth to worry about North Korea for now. Why does the United States have to police China's backyard. It's no longer 1950. The United States cannot afford any longer to police the world. The big picture has gotten too big and too expensive for the United States to control alone.
Let's just be another player on the world stage. Concerned yes, humanitarian aid always; obsessed with controlling everything and everyone no. Avoid foreign entanglements America.
fiction
edward w pritchard
Avoid foreign entanglements America.
The United States continues to police the world, far away in Asia. China drives up the price of everything for everyone, too busy accumulating all the world's wealth to worry about North Korea for now. Why does the United States have to police China's backyard. It's no longer 1950. The United States cannot afford any longer to police the world. The big picture has gotten too big and too expensive for the United States to control alone.
Let's just be another player on the world stage. Concerned yes, humanitarian aid always; obsessed with controlling everything and everyone no. Avoid foreign entanglements America.
shameless product placement
shameless product placement
fiction
edward w pritchard
I grew up in a house that we didn't clean much. Then when I had my own apartment I only cleaned if a special lady was coming by and my motivation was strong and immediate. Later when I lived in a big suburban house someone else did most of the cleaning; all well, since when I left I come to find out not much of the stuff was mine.
Now I have to clean my own house, between housekeeper visits; which because of financing constraints are down to every few years. So I clean regularly, holidays and when I can write my name in the dust on the floor.
When I clean I always go to Wal Mart twice for supplies. Once, the first time I go, I get Clorox, Windex, Lysol, Comet and Brillo pads. Later, when sick of cleaning but not yet done I go back to Wal Mart and get two six packs of Coors Light Beer. Cleaning is always more interesting after the second trip to Wal Mart.
fiction
edward w pritchard
I grew up in a house that we didn't clean much. Then when I had my own apartment I only cleaned if a special lady was coming by and my motivation was strong and immediate. Later when I lived in a big suburban house someone else did most of the cleaning; all well, since when I left I come to find out not much of the stuff was mine.
Now I have to clean my own house, between housekeeper visits; which because of financing constraints are down to every few years. So I clean regularly, holidays and when I can write my name in the dust on the floor.
When I clean I always go to Wal Mart twice for supplies. Once, the first time I go, I get Clorox, Windex, Lysol, Comet and Brillo pads. Later, when sick of cleaning but not yet done I go back to Wal Mart and get two six packs of Coors Light Beer. Cleaning is always more interesting after the second trip to Wal Mart.
shopping on Black Friday
shopping on black Friday
fiction
edward w pritchard
Shopping on black Friday the last few years has provided the cohesion that gets me through the holiday season. Like many others I dearly missed my lost best friend over the holidays. The crowds at the malls, the long lines at midnight at Wal Mart, and just missing the door buster deal of the year; cheer me and lift my tired spirit.
Of course nothing can replace the loss of my friend, my gold credit card that the bank revoked a few years ago. To survive I try to compensate by making the best of life as it is now. We must be realistic. Finding misplaced cash for my shopping spree and coping with the loss of my gold credit card best I can, I sally forth dutifully and optimistically to meet the new year.
fiction
edward w pritchard
Shopping on black Friday the last few years has provided the cohesion that gets me through the holiday season. Like many others I dearly missed my lost best friend over the holidays. The crowds at the malls, the long lines at midnight at Wal Mart, and just missing the door buster deal of the year; cheer me and lift my tired spirit.
Of course nothing can replace the loss of my friend, my gold credit card that the bank revoked a few years ago. To survive I try to compensate by making the best of life as it is now. We must be realistic. Finding misplaced cash for my shopping spree and coping with the loss of my gold credit card best I can, I sally forth dutifully and optimistically to meet the new year.
Sunday, November 21, 2010
Alexander the great receives a restraining order
Alexander the great receives a restraining order
fiction
edward w pritchard
The most successful human to date was the Macedonian General Alexander the Great. However he took reckless chances in battle, wore a plumed colored hat to flaunt military convention, and charged directly at King of Kings and commander in chief Darius, of Persia.
What if Alexander the Great had been deemed too short, too gay, and too suicidal to lead the troops to India? In that case Darius the Great would have been the greatest human and Ahura Mazdah would have been proclaimed dead in the last century.
fiction
edward w pritchard
The most successful human to date was the Macedonian General Alexander the Great. However he took reckless chances in battle, wore a plumed colored hat to flaunt military convention, and charged directly at King of Kings and commander in chief Darius, of Persia.
What if Alexander the Great had been deemed too short, too gay, and too suicidal to lead the troops to India? In that case Darius the Great would have been the greatest human and Ahura Mazdah would have been proclaimed dead in the last century.
There's too much passing in professional football
There's too much passing in professional football
fiction
edward w pritchard
There's too much passing in professional football. Too much passing in football is caused by the desire by everyone for instant gratification of all their needs. Instant gratification causes the slow demise of the school systems which keeps the young from being properly educated. Lack of education is causing politicians to be selfish and not altruistic and greedy and dishonest. Poor performance by politicians screws up the economy. A screwed up economy makes people cash poor and poor people can't afford tickets to professional football games.
In time the system is self correcting. Until then maybe women quarterbacks, it's indisputable that women can't throw a football as far as men; all other things being equal.
fiction
edward w pritchard
There's too much passing in professional football. Too much passing in football is caused by the desire by everyone for instant gratification of all their needs. Instant gratification causes the slow demise of the school systems which keeps the young from being properly educated. Lack of education is causing politicians to be selfish and not altruistic and greedy and dishonest. Poor performance by politicians screws up the economy. A screwed up economy makes people cash poor and poor people can't afford tickets to professional football games.
In time the system is self correcting. Until then maybe women quarterbacks, it's indisputable that women can't throw a football as far as men; all other things being equal.
the realist
the realist
fiction
edward w pritchard
Shoulders bent from carrying their invisible burden their eyes do not gaze to the skies. There the moon and sun are just rock and fire.
Children die, friends vanish and cities disappear occasionally. It means nothing, these things just happen, accept it and move on. Its all just random, calculate-able given interest, time and a profit motive for motivation. Pets are just animals and people just eat and digest matter and decompose.
Time marches on, however the realist has never contemplated if time is real itself. However real or not time mows all down. God, he a figment of our imagination or is it us of his? No matter. It will all be over soon, try not to suffer; that's just an illusion caused by misunderstanding.
fiction
edward w pritchard
Shoulders bent from carrying their invisible burden their eyes do not gaze to the skies. There the moon and sun are just rock and fire.
Children die, friends vanish and cities disappear occasionally. It means nothing, these things just happen, accept it and move on. Its all just random, calculate-able given interest, time and a profit motive for motivation. Pets are just animals and people just eat and digest matter and decompose.
Time marches on, however the realist has never contemplated if time is real itself. However real or not time mows all down. God, he a figment of our imagination or is it us of his? No matter. It will all be over soon, try not to suffer; that's just an illusion caused by misunderstanding.
Saturday, November 20, 2010
sailed to Byzantium, now standing on dock looking back
sailed to Byzantium, now standing on dock looking back
fiction
edward w pritchard
Sailed to Byzantium, now standing on the dock looking back. Eyes weakened by age, I use my insight to see my children. They now where I once was. They in life's prime, planning and house-holding, jousting with outrageous fortune to secure their niche. Me always fearful for their safety, unable to be non-attached, I counsel from afar as appropriate and as welcome to be heard by them.
I have come to finally live in the moment; the moment now filled with stiff muscles, aching ligaments and a weakened heart and lungs. Toiling a-still due to lack of proper husbandry, I arise early and continue with life's drudgery, but now blessed by God with joyous attitude and understanding. Except when circumstance stirs my anger or nudges my resignations.
Time is compressed for me into one by one specious moments at a time. I often look back over hundreds of centuries and feel the suffering of my ancestors who lived before. In their triumphs I relish and in their despairs I reminisce.
My future shrinks but I see my role in this small part of the universe and feel eternity after I am ceased. Looking to the stars, I take a deep breath and shrink back into my selficity. Thirsty I seek water, lonely, by practice I let that urge desist.
fiction
edward w pritchard
Sailed to Byzantium, now standing on the dock looking back. Eyes weakened by age, I use my insight to see my children. They now where I once was. They in life's prime, planning and house-holding, jousting with outrageous fortune to secure their niche. Me always fearful for their safety, unable to be non-attached, I counsel from afar as appropriate and as welcome to be heard by them.
I have come to finally live in the moment; the moment now filled with stiff muscles, aching ligaments and a weakened heart and lungs. Toiling a-still due to lack of proper husbandry, I arise early and continue with life's drudgery, but now blessed by God with joyous attitude and understanding. Except when circumstance stirs my anger or nudges my resignations.
Time is compressed for me into one by one specious moments at a time. I often look back over hundreds of centuries and feel the suffering of my ancestors who lived before. In their triumphs I relish and in their despairs I reminisce.
My future shrinks but I see my role in this small part of the universe and feel eternity after I am ceased. Looking to the stars, I take a deep breath and shrink back into my selficity. Thirsty I seek water, lonely, by practice I let that urge desist.
Friday, November 19, 2010
class warfare in America
class warfare in America
fiction
edward w pritchard
Class warfare continued in America and the National news media had completely exhausted sources to comment on and dissect the situation. There was no new way to spin the problem.
A beautiful female news anchor was assigned to find an expert to comment on the growing divide between rich and poor in America and to get an opinion on if America's declining spiritual moral values were responsible for the situation.
The beautiful news anchor contacted a famous retired Actor. Now a Taoist, the Actor was a wealthy recluse who always refused interviews.
At length however, the famous actor, Rin Tin Tin the talking dog from early in American cinema history agreed to an interview. The cameras were rolling and the News Anchor held the microphone and Rin Tin Tin the talking dog heard the question, "Are America's spiritual values in decline?" Rin tin Tin, the famous Actor thought carefully and replied, speaking as a Taoist- Ruff.
end
fiction
edward w pritchard
Class warfare continued in America and the National news media had completely exhausted sources to comment on and dissect the situation. There was no new way to spin the problem.
A beautiful female news anchor was assigned to find an expert to comment on the growing divide between rich and poor in America and to get an opinion on if America's declining spiritual moral values were responsible for the situation.
The beautiful news anchor contacted a famous retired Actor. Now a Taoist, the Actor was a wealthy recluse who always refused interviews.
At length however, the famous actor, Rin Tin Tin the talking dog from early in American cinema history agreed to an interview. The cameras were rolling and the News Anchor held the microphone and Rin Tin Tin the talking dog heard the question, "Are America's spiritual values in decline?" Rin tin Tin, the famous Actor thought carefully and replied, speaking as a Taoist- Ruff.
end
too sad to talk about
too sad to talk about
fiction
edward w pritchard
With respect and sadness for victims of 09-11-2001
High up, 80 or more stories after the 09-11-2001 explosion a man is trapped alone. The stairs are gone, the building is swaying about to fall and the man, a trained engineer knows soon the structure will soon crash heavily to the ground. He has no communication with earth below and knows he must act quickly or die.
Wrapping himself in a ball in mattresses, ingenuously securing the mattress ends so they will remain intact in his descent to earth, the man plunges from the window toward the cement below intensely focused on his immediate future.
Insignificant in the scheme of things, alone in his plight, the man listens to the wind as he plunges toward the ground and although a trained scientist prays for friction's assistance over his arch enemy gravity and solid reality below.
fiction
edward w pritchard
With respect and sadness for victims of 09-11-2001
High up, 80 or more stories after the 09-11-2001 explosion a man is trapped alone. The stairs are gone, the building is swaying about to fall and the man, a trained engineer knows soon the structure will soon crash heavily to the ground. He has no communication with earth below and knows he must act quickly or die.
Wrapping himself in a ball in mattresses, ingenuously securing the mattress ends so they will remain intact in his descent to earth, the man plunges from the window toward the cement below intensely focused on his immediate future.
Insignificant in the scheme of things, alone in his plight, the man listens to the wind as he plunges toward the ground and although a trained scientist prays for friction's assistance over his arch enemy gravity and solid reality below.
a father's fantasy
a father's fantasy
fiction
edward w pritchard
Could someone who knew everything be able to see a little into the future. Maybe she did not know everything but receiving a perfect SAT score is pretty smart. Did she know what might happen?
What would you try if you knew you couldn't fail. Is it possible for some humans to be invincible? Invincible given enough planning and technology and confidence and faith and curiosity to soar beyond the bounds of the Earth? Is risk always present even if measured in advance?
Defer gratification. When others protested the Vietnam War and smoked pot; she would study and plan and sacrifice. Striving to be the best. To be the smartest and most motivated. Become an astronaut. Become famous. Soar high, far above Akron, Ohio.
Judy Resnick was the second woman in space. An engineer, she applied for the astronauts training program and later was one of seven American crew members killed in the Challenger explosion on Jan 28, 1986. She was divorced and had no children.
She grew up in Akron Ohio and her Father was an Optometrist. She graduated from Firestone High school, first in her class. She attended Perkins Junior High and an Elementary in Akron now called Resnick Learning Center.
American in 1985 was invincible. Reaganomics brought faith and reestablishment of manifest destiny. American would conquer space, the next frontier. The future was bright for America again in 1985. The famous Actor Ronald Regan lead America into the future in 1985.
A father lost his daughter. He lost his stunning daughter who played piano and was sympathetic to deaf people. His beautiful talented intelligent daughter was gone, a national hero. Later she was awarded posthumously a Space Medal of Honor.
Judy Resnick was one of two women who died on Challenger. The other a teacher, was the star that day with the media pre-flight. The second woman astronaut, the Teacher's students watched as did thousands of school children on television in their classrooms. A horrible explosion 73 seconds in flight, all were dead, both women including Judy Resnick the Optometrist's daughter.
Might Dr. Resnick the Optometrist who would have been so so proud of his daughter Judy Resnick when she completed grade school, and matriculated Perkins Junior High, and later graduated Valedictorian at Firestone High school sometimes after her death wished her life had went differently? After his Daughter's death, might the Optometrist had wished she had not been so ambitious, such a risk taker, not strove so high. Would he trade her opportunity to have her back. Given a do over would Dr. Resnick beguile Judy when she was young to keep her safely in Akron, Ohio?
What would you do if you knew you couldn't fail. What would you want your only daughter to do if you knew a little of life's risks? Can you face the future bravely? Would you orchestrate your children's lives towards safety and security rather than exploration and fame and renown if you could? Does every question have a right answer?
fiction
edward w pritchard
Could someone who knew everything be able to see a little into the future. Maybe she did not know everything but receiving a perfect SAT score is pretty smart. Did she know what might happen?
What would you try if you knew you couldn't fail. Is it possible for some humans to be invincible? Invincible given enough planning and technology and confidence and faith and curiosity to soar beyond the bounds of the Earth? Is risk always present even if measured in advance?
Defer gratification. When others protested the Vietnam War and smoked pot; she would study and plan and sacrifice. Striving to be the best. To be the smartest and most motivated. Become an astronaut. Become famous. Soar high, far above Akron, Ohio.
Judy Resnick was the second woman in space. An engineer, she applied for the astronauts training program and later was one of seven American crew members killed in the Challenger explosion on Jan 28, 1986. She was divorced and had no children.
She grew up in Akron Ohio and her Father was an Optometrist. She graduated from Firestone High school, first in her class. She attended Perkins Junior High and an Elementary in Akron now called Resnick Learning Center.
American in 1985 was invincible. Reaganomics brought faith and reestablishment of manifest destiny. American would conquer space, the next frontier. The future was bright for America again in 1985. The famous Actor Ronald Regan lead America into the future in 1985.
A father lost his daughter. He lost his stunning daughter who played piano and was sympathetic to deaf people. His beautiful talented intelligent daughter was gone, a national hero. Later she was awarded posthumously a Space Medal of Honor.
Judy Resnick was one of two women who died on Challenger. The other a teacher, was the star that day with the media pre-flight. The second woman astronaut, the Teacher's students watched as did thousands of school children on television in their classrooms. A horrible explosion 73 seconds in flight, all were dead, both women including Judy Resnick the Optometrist's daughter.
Might Dr. Resnick the Optometrist who would have been so so proud of his daughter Judy Resnick when she completed grade school, and matriculated Perkins Junior High, and later graduated Valedictorian at Firestone High school sometimes after her death wished her life had went differently? After his Daughter's death, might the Optometrist had wished she had not been so ambitious, such a risk taker, not strove so high. Would he trade her opportunity to have her back. Given a do over would Dr. Resnick beguile Judy when she was young to keep her safely in Akron, Ohio?
What would you do if you knew you couldn't fail. What would you want your only daughter to do if you knew a little of life's risks? Can you face the future bravely? Would you orchestrate your children's lives towards safety and security rather than exploration and fame and renown if you could? Does every question have a right answer?
Wednesday, November 17, 2010
there is a suffering
There is a suffering
fiction
edward w pritchard
We carry a suffering too light to be dissolved by time.
It floats and crusts lightly on the Lake of our consciousness, refusing to degenerate.
When the sun shines on our Lake it can't reach our depths for we harden ourselves,
until the diving water birds of fortune crash through our surface defenses,
and in our exigency we become aware.
end
fiction
edward w pritchard
We carry a suffering too light to be dissolved by time.
It floats and crusts lightly on the Lake of our consciousness, refusing to degenerate.
When the sun shines on our Lake it can't reach our depths for we harden ourselves,
until the diving water birds of fortune crash through our surface defenses,
and in our exigency we become aware.
end
Tuesday, November 16, 2010
stand up and be counted
stand up and be counted
fiction
edward w pritchard
Stand up and be counted. The last one standing will have riches beyond imagination. We waited as he preached. We waited cheerfully as our company's CEO, our leader, the famous business sensation swayed, cajoled, preached, promised, and enticed. One of us, one of our companies two million eight hundred and eight employees would today leave their auditorium rich. Rich rich rich. He said you would be rich. Everyone sang. Off key maybe but with fervor and verve and hope. Hope, who wouldn't want riches. Everyone sang the beloved familiar Company anthem and everyone planned what they would do with the money if they were the one chosen to be rich. At the annual national sales and motivation meetings, one thousand employees from each region stood and sang for our company in their regions auditorium. We had just celebrated a record breaking quarter, quarter to quarter sales growth, and as usual it was an amazing, enviable record. Today we celebrate and sing for our company. One lucky one, one employee in over a million will leave the meeting today rich. The company will make one of us rich today.
Your teachers will know and hear and they will be proud of you. Your old coaches will hear and take some credit. Your wife will know immediately for they will pick her up by helicopter and the two of you will be whisked to an expensive hotel, a castle of seduction, and there will be shopping trips for her and clothes and new houses and cars and her Mother will hear and be happy too. Your children will be happy and will be impressed with you.Your neighbor will be happy for there will be riding mowers, and landscaping and new bushes and the neighborhood will be transformed and instantly you will be a good neighbor.
The leader screamed and we stood. Reach under your chair, pull out the secret number stapled to the bottom of the chair. Hold it up, its your red card. Wave your red card. All two million plus of us hopefully did and the computers shined the yellow surveillance lights overhead on the numbers on the red cards that we all waved and waved. The computers instantly matched the numbers from red card from under the seats to the green entry information application that everyone had filled in when they first applied to work at the company. The initial application for employment was your green card. The computers were matching the red card from under the seat to your green application for employment. Just to confirm the winner was legitimate, a technicality.
We entered this morning for the mass sales meeting. Hours and hours of rah rah. This was the culmination. Someone would be rich. Everyone waited for the confirmation. Don't keep us in suspense. Who won, who will be rich?
Wait there was one more card being frantically waved in the air, from under the seats than there are initial completed applications for employment on file. One person in our company hadn't conformed. The computers already knew who the fraud was. Tediously they began the process to tell the company leaders who was the miscreant.
How long could I stand before they found out. Wait they needed our unit. Fraud detection. We must act quickly, somewhere someone hadn't filled out their initial employment application properly. There was a fraud somewhere and we must find him quickly. Leave your seat, our unit must find the fraud quickly. Follow with the rest of our section, put on our special hat and carry our special clubs. All of our section must follow me for I am the leader of our section, an important manager, a lieutenant in our company's army. I am a leader not a follow. All of my unit must follow me to detect the fraud among us.
The big leader, the boss of bosses, swayed and pranced and sang as we watched him from over two hundred locations on the large monitors. Someone will be rich today. Cars and new houses and lifetime annuities and beautiful companions and expensive hotels and women in scanty costumes and books. Philosophy books, and on line courses of secret wisdom and high definition televisions, and video games and new refrigerator and tools stored in your garage in talking red storage cabinets were promised. Wine racks of vintage harvest,and gourmet food, and lawn chairs by the pool.
Stand up and be counted, everyone will be proud of you and your name will be in the papers, and people far away will see you on reality television, Just sign your name, complete the employment application in full they said. Write your secret password as you apply on the green card, the initial application for employment and entry into the company. You must use the pet name your parents called you as your password. It's snookums for me. Tell them your secret name. What's wrong with you. Don't you want employment and riches. Fill out the employment application in full and reveal your secret name that your parents called you. Tell the company everything.
The leader swayed and chanted. He was prosperously obese. Money money money. Stand up and be counted.
Our unit searched, one person hadn't filled in their application properly. How long until we found out that I hadn't conformed. What are the repercussions? Moving up and down the aisles quickly I methodically looked for myself the fraud who hadn't revealed my secret password. I am the one who won't tell the company everything. Why are there always a few miscreants who will not follow the rules? No one can win the prize today because of me. No one can be rich because there is one more red card from under the seats frantically being waved in the air than there are properly completed initial applications for employment on file. The computers will not confirm a winner. No one will leave rich today because of me.
As I lead my unit I sing the company anthem and run quickly up and down the aisles looking for myself the fraud who couldn't conform to our company's corporate culture.
fiction
edward w pritchard
Stand up and be counted. The last one standing will have riches beyond imagination. We waited as he preached. We waited cheerfully as our company's CEO, our leader, the famous business sensation swayed, cajoled, preached, promised, and enticed. One of us, one of our companies two million eight hundred and eight employees would today leave their auditorium rich. Rich rich rich. He said you would be rich. Everyone sang. Off key maybe but with fervor and verve and hope. Hope, who wouldn't want riches. Everyone sang the beloved familiar Company anthem and everyone planned what they would do with the money if they were the one chosen to be rich. At the annual national sales and motivation meetings, one thousand employees from each region stood and sang for our company in their regions auditorium. We had just celebrated a record breaking quarter, quarter to quarter sales growth, and as usual it was an amazing, enviable record. Today we celebrate and sing for our company. One lucky one, one employee in over a million will leave the meeting today rich. The company will make one of us rich today.
Your teachers will know and hear and they will be proud of you. Your old coaches will hear and take some credit. Your wife will know immediately for they will pick her up by helicopter and the two of you will be whisked to an expensive hotel, a castle of seduction, and there will be shopping trips for her and clothes and new houses and cars and her Mother will hear and be happy too. Your children will be happy and will be impressed with you.Your neighbor will be happy for there will be riding mowers, and landscaping and new bushes and the neighborhood will be transformed and instantly you will be a good neighbor.
The leader screamed and we stood. Reach under your chair, pull out the secret number stapled to the bottom of the chair. Hold it up, its your red card. Wave your red card. All two million plus of us hopefully did and the computers shined the yellow surveillance lights overhead on the numbers on the red cards that we all waved and waved. The computers instantly matched the numbers from red card from under the seats to the green entry information application that everyone had filled in when they first applied to work at the company. The initial application for employment was your green card. The computers were matching the red card from under the seat to your green application for employment. Just to confirm the winner was legitimate, a technicality.
We entered this morning for the mass sales meeting. Hours and hours of rah rah. This was the culmination. Someone would be rich. Everyone waited for the confirmation. Don't keep us in suspense. Who won, who will be rich?
Wait there was one more card being frantically waved in the air, from under the seats than there are initial completed applications for employment on file. One person in our company hadn't conformed. The computers already knew who the fraud was. Tediously they began the process to tell the company leaders who was the miscreant.
How long could I stand before they found out. Wait they needed our unit. Fraud detection. We must act quickly, somewhere someone hadn't filled out their initial employment application properly. There was a fraud somewhere and we must find him quickly. Leave your seat, our unit must find the fraud quickly. Follow with the rest of our section, put on our special hat and carry our special clubs. All of our section must follow me for I am the leader of our section, an important manager, a lieutenant in our company's army. I am a leader not a follow. All of my unit must follow me to detect the fraud among us.
The big leader, the boss of bosses, swayed and pranced and sang as we watched him from over two hundred locations on the large monitors. Someone will be rich today. Cars and new houses and lifetime annuities and beautiful companions and expensive hotels and women in scanty costumes and books. Philosophy books, and on line courses of secret wisdom and high definition televisions, and video games and new refrigerator and tools stored in your garage in talking red storage cabinets were promised. Wine racks of vintage harvest,and gourmet food, and lawn chairs by the pool.
Stand up and be counted, everyone will be proud of you and your name will be in the papers, and people far away will see you on reality television, Just sign your name, complete the employment application in full they said. Write your secret password as you apply on the green card, the initial application for employment and entry into the company. You must use the pet name your parents called you as your password. It's snookums for me. Tell them your secret name. What's wrong with you. Don't you want employment and riches. Fill out the employment application in full and reveal your secret name that your parents called you. Tell the company everything.
The leader swayed and chanted. He was prosperously obese. Money money money. Stand up and be counted.
Our unit searched, one person hadn't filled in their application properly. How long until we found out that I hadn't conformed. What are the repercussions? Moving up and down the aisles quickly I methodically looked for myself the fraud who hadn't revealed my secret password. I am the one who won't tell the company everything. Why are there always a few miscreants who will not follow the rules? No one can win the prize today because of me. No one can be rich because there is one more red card from under the seats frantically being waved in the air than there are properly completed initial applications for employment on file. The computers will not confirm a winner. No one will leave rich today because of me.
As I lead my unit I sing the company anthem and run quickly up and down the aisles looking for myself the fraud who couldn't conform to our company's corporate culture.
Sunday, November 14, 2010
worry worry worry
worry worry worry
fiction
edward w pritchard
People change as they age and the great Sultan followed the normal pattern.
From age 14 to 40 for the Sultan it was all about procreation, and it's preparations. Staff at the harem elaborately planned, recruited and winnowed beautiful young women for each nights conquests. Nightly, three exquisite beauties were presented for the Sultan's perusal and the eventual conquest of the one chosen. Out of 9489 encounters, 602 offspring were born and the rooms of nurseries behind the harem became filled with children running and playing.
At the age of 40, unexpectedly and without precedent the Sultan began to worry over his children. All of the children were royalty and were well cared for. Just as some in the Harem worked in procurement, others worked as nurses and tutors to the children of the Sultan. The care and nurturing of the Royal offspring was a lucrative position to hold and those involved guarded their way of livelihood carefully. Additionally the Mother's of the boys, who still lived in the Harem, sought the Sultan's favor for the their son's. One male offspring would become the next sultan. Off course the girls were groomed for marriage, sometimes outside the Harem.
One night, just after his 40th birthday, following a night of restless dreams the Sultan began to worry over the health, prospects, safety, and futures of all 602 of his children. In time the worry become obsessive and pervaded the once happy atmosphere and routines of the harem and nurseries where the children lived and were attended to. At first the Sultan's ruminations were appreciated because new economic opportunities presented themselves caused by the Sultan's fears.
Eventually however, the Sultan's worrying over the fact that his children would someday suffer as they experienced aging, sickness and death outside the harem became intolerable. In time everyone came to abhor the Sultan for his meddling and weakness and one night the Sultan was mysteriously assassinated. The culprit was rumored to live inside the Harem itself.
fiction
edward w pritchard
People change as they age and the great Sultan followed the normal pattern.
From age 14 to 40 for the Sultan it was all about procreation, and it's preparations. Staff at the harem elaborately planned, recruited and winnowed beautiful young women for each nights conquests. Nightly, three exquisite beauties were presented for the Sultan's perusal and the eventual conquest of the one chosen. Out of 9489 encounters, 602 offspring were born and the rooms of nurseries behind the harem became filled with children running and playing.
At the age of 40, unexpectedly and without precedent the Sultan began to worry over his children. All of the children were royalty and were well cared for. Just as some in the Harem worked in procurement, others worked as nurses and tutors to the children of the Sultan. The care and nurturing of the Royal offspring was a lucrative position to hold and those involved guarded their way of livelihood carefully. Additionally the Mother's of the boys, who still lived in the Harem, sought the Sultan's favor for the their son's. One male offspring would become the next sultan. Off course the girls were groomed for marriage, sometimes outside the Harem.
One night, just after his 40th birthday, following a night of restless dreams the Sultan began to worry over the health, prospects, safety, and futures of all 602 of his children. In time the worry become obsessive and pervaded the once happy atmosphere and routines of the harem and nurseries where the children lived and were attended to. At first the Sultan's ruminations were appreciated because new economic opportunities presented themselves caused by the Sultan's fears.
Eventually however, the Sultan's worrying over the fact that his children would someday suffer as they experienced aging, sickness and death outside the harem became intolerable. In time everyone came to abhor the Sultan for his meddling and weakness and one night the Sultan was mysteriously assassinated. The culprit was rumored to live inside the Harem itself.
Saturday, November 13, 2010
Where is Dudley?
Where is Dudley?
fiction
edward w pritchard
Crazy old widow McReynolds, up and down Market Street; calling and calling-Dudley, Dudley,- - Dudley. A thousand times, she called Dudley, Dudley. Maybe a million times by now, Dud-ley, Dud-ley.
Get real Mrs. McReynolds, Dudley just isn't coming back from where he went to.
There she goes again, Dudley, Dudley, Dudley.
end
fiction
edward w pritchard
Crazy old widow McReynolds, up and down Market Street; calling and calling-Dudley, Dudley,- - Dudley. A thousand times, she called Dudley, Dudley. Maybe a million times by now, Dud-ley, Dud-ley.
Get real Mrs. McReynolds, Dudley just isn't coming back from where he went to.
There she goes again, Dudley, Dudley, Dudley.
end
pillar of salt
pillar of salt
fiction
edward w pritchard
The groups formed and marched toward the old sanatorium.
Ghazi is fierce militarism for God. The men marching were not religious men; they were just silently called to march. Spontaneously chanting, the men all knew that they had been called to march. It would be dangerous to interrupt the men and to confront them was ill advised for there were already ten of thousands of them with more coming every hour.
The marchers were watched, carefully monitored, and they were photographed. Individuals were categorized and listed; and the marching men were ominously news worthy. The men were young, twelve to eighteen, wearing the black shirts, and they were too numerous to count. We in power nervously tried to survey them. Once, at the beginning, we had tried to communicate with them.
The God the men marched for was a vengeful God. Each man when they reached the old Sanatorium opened a pouch or bag they had brought and pored their pile of salt in a large heap, added to what the others had carried. A large glistening heap of salt grew in the middle of the cornfield that was part of the expanse of the grounds of the old Sanatorium.
As the salt pile grew the marching men began to develop a communal purpose. As the men waited around their campfires in small groups; each group slowly become aware of their destiny. Waiting in their tents in gentle rains, the men planned preordained battles and confrontations.
fiction
edward w pritchard
The groups formed and marched toward the old sanatorium.
Ghazi is fierce militarism for God. The men marching were not religious men; they were just silently called to march. Spontaneously chanting, the men all knew that they had been called to march. It would be dangerous to interrupt the men and to confront them was ill advised for there were already ten of thousands of them with more coming every hour.
The marchers were watched, carefully monitored, and they were photographed. Individuals were categorized and listed; and the marching men were ominously news worthy. The men were young, twelve to eighteen, wearing the black shirts, and they were too numerous to count. We in power nervously tried to survey them. Once, at the beginning, we had tried to communicate with them.
The God the men marched for was a vengeful God. Each man when they reached the old Sanatorium opened a pouch or bag they had brought and pored their pile of salt in a large heap, added to what the others had carried. A large glistening heap of salt grew in the middle of the cornfield that was part of the expanse of the grounds of the old Sanatorium.
As the salt pile grew the marching men began to develop a communal purpose. As the men waited around their campfires in small groups; each group slowly become aware of their destiny. Waiting in their tents in gentle rains, the men planned preordained battles and confrontations.
Monday, November 8, 2010
when your friend stumbles-first draft
when your friend stumbles
fiction
edward w pritchard
When your friend stumbles, you just keep sauntering on.
Like we sauntered when we strolled with the two prettiest girls in the county; we thought so that day- back then in our endless Summer.
Then mine threw me over- you calmly said- another would come along.
When you spotted at weight lifting you didn't raise your voice, when I choked, missing our current milestone. You just muscled up, pushing up those iron hundred pound plates as an example.
Then we both had our own wives and a half dozen babies or more between us. Didn't see each other much,- you said - it's OK- because, even if we don't pal around anymore- we still are friends.
For years as those children grew, in endless Springtime, if we saw each other at all it was about someone's problems.
And when I fell, a divorce, there you were again, we went fishing, and you said shave your beard, don't forget the mustache, maybe you won't look all that bad and it was Fall for me and it got dark early and the leaves all fell.
Then you stumbled, twice or more already, bad bad luck, and it's winter and we are in the middle of it. Saunter on old friend, don't forget to duck.
I miss you pal.
end
fiction
edward w pritchard
When your friend stumbles, you just keep sauntering on.
Like we sauntered when we strolled with the two prettiest girls in the county; we thought so that day- back then in our endless Summer.
Then mine threw me over- you calmly said- another would come along.
When you spotted at weight lifting you didn't raise your voice, when I choked, missing our current milestone. You just muscled up, pushing up those iron hundred pound plates as an example.
Then we both had our own wives and a half dozen babies or more between us. Didn't see each other much,- you said - it's OK- because, even if we don't pal around anymore- we still are friends.
For years as those children grew, in endless Springtime, if we saw each other at all it was about someone's problems.
And when I fell, a divorce, there you were again, we went fishing, and you said shave your beard, don't forget the mustache, maybe you won't look all that bad and it was Fall for me and it got dark early and the leaves all fell.
Then you stumbled, twice or more already, bad bad luck, and it's winter and we are in the middle of it. Saunter on old friend, don't forget to duck.
I miss you pal.
end
Wednesday, November 3, 2010
it's 2012 already part 7
it's 2012 already part 7
fiction
edward w pritchard
Johnson City, Tennessee and my inner spiritual light is very low today.
Later, nine miles east of the town of Johnson City and I am at a farm celebrating Dewali [deepavali] with a few dozen holy people. I am humbled by their goodness and sense of calm.
Hindu's, Siks and Jain's celebrate this festival, Dewali, as a time of prayer. Clay pots are lighted and we celebrate the triumph of good over evil in the world. As we pray, we ask for prosperity in the coming year. These people accept as a given the existence of evil in the world. Many pilgrims here, like the ancient Stoic philosopher Chrysippus [ 280-207BC] before them , find it intellectually consistent that good and evil must co-exist, one is the inverse of the other. I am just coming to grips with this concept and it is helping me develop a more realistic outlook as I travel here in 2012, during the time of the Apocalypse. I knew many successful people in my old life who held to the philosophy of moral relativism. Whatever worked to help them achieve their ends is justified. Nietzsche called that beyond good and evil. I am struggling with that idea.
I have payed for the sweets and snacks for the entire group, that we now eat to celebrate the holiday Dewali , and I am popular and welcome today. My tired soul drinks in the passion in the air here at this small rural farm. I have spent five days helping with the harvest. Even the federal troops here, overseeing the harvest, seem benevolent. The crop we harvest is very valuable, one of the last harvests I am afraid for years to come so I am glad to assist with getting it reaped and saved for future generations.
As I continue my walk East the fireworks back at the farm can be heard a long way off. I also paid for those so the surviving children here would have some fun today. Fireworks are popular with children during Dewali in India. It is considered bad form to start Dewali in debt, back there in India; so I have repudiated my debts here in America on my two remaining credit cards. I don't think I will send my New York bankers a notice of my repudiation, but I have proclaimed it just the same. Try it, it's very liberating.
I am going to join the Appalachian trail soon and head South down into Georgia. The trail will be nice because it's a long green tunnel that will gently lead me closer to my goal of meditating and rejuvenating at the Sea Islands of Georgia and spending some time in the warm sunshine of the Atlantic coast. I understand that tens of million of birds have migrated to the Georgia Sea Islands on their way to South America this year. I try to stay away from birds anymore but I guess I can share the Sea Islands with them if I get to my destination.
Amicalola Falls State Park, here in Georgia, at the beginning of the Appalachian trail is still open and the last ranger here says I can stay for free. They are closing in a few days and have given me new clothes and a room to stay in. This is a sacred place to the ancient Cherokee Indians and it feels holy to me now. I am rushing to stay ahead of the storms which are relentlessly moving South again.
Just north of Amicalola Falls, at Springer Mountain pass, I was attacked by wolves. They didn't eat me because of the odor of death about me from the bad air in me. Still, it was terrifying to wake from a deep sleep to find five wolves looming over me. I need some civilization again. It has gotten bitterly cold over a 100 mile or so swatch ahead of the storms. At night it is below zero in the mountains. Very few humans are on the Appalachian trail. Maybe they are on the roads elsewhere, but I am afraid there are many more deaths.
Amicalola State Park is the very beginning of the Appalachian trail hike and every year before this hundreds of people left North towards Maine from here. Of course most of those hikers didn't make it to Maine. Many gave up a few miles from the start here at Amicalola State Park. That is proving a windfall for me. Just I and the last ranger are here at the Park. He closes operations soon for no money or supplies come to him for his payroll or necessities from far away Washington, DC. He says the federal government will no longer keep up frontier operations anymore, anywhere, in the entire Country. While there are no barbarians like during the ancient fall of Rome, this last outpost in America will be missed. It is the last remnant of civilization I have seen since Nashville.
The ranger is asking me my advice, for he faces an ethical quandary. Should he stay here and do his duty as long as he can; or head out for Washington DC and try to requisition funds and supplies for the future of his charge here? In the end I told the ranger it would be suicide for him to head North so he is returning to his family. First however, I get to stay in a the comfortable lodge for a few days and I pick and choose from all the fine LL Bean hiking boots, and warm jackets and backpacks of supplies. Previous hikers dumped these items on the trail in the Park in the past because they couldn't believe the weight of their possessions and because they had badly miscalculated the difficulty in walking a long-long way. Those hikers from middle America, pilgrims on the Appalachian trail, had their satori at the beginning of their walk. They quickly realized that carrying too many things and too much weight is a burden to enlightenment. If they walked on after discarding some of the things they had brought with them; it was for exercise only, they already saw the light so to speak.
Rested, now I realize I made a major miscalculation. It's not one in one thousand that have survived the wind storms, but one in ten thousand. That means there are now only one thousand survivors left from my home state of Ohio. West Virginia where I often go, statistically at least, now should have only sixty-four survivors left. That is staggering. Still to cull the human survivors back to 600 individuals; only one in ten million can survive. What does it mean? Am I just being delusional in my fears for the future? Why would any type of intelligently designed plan need to have so many feeling, thinking humans die? What would be the purpose, if any?
People I meet on the trail are becoming more philosophical and much less inclined to materialistic theories. Still, the theory of survival of the fittest survives, although it's difficult to see proof of it in action. One finds an ex-college linebacker dead from the bad air and nearby,ten feet away, a baby crawls along merrily thriving in the same air. Survival of the fittest always was framed in terms of there not being enough food. Now there is plenty of food, because no one has an appetite. It's air and water that are scarce. People fight and kill each other on the trail over medicine or blankets, or reclaiming stolen purple glasses, but not food.
People cling to the idea that if they live it's because they are fit, worthy and special. Everyone has a bias toward free will. They think that human initiative and resiliency can overcome any obstacles. I just about gave up again because of the cold. Sleeping on the ground, literally using a rock for a pillow, wrapped in my torn Indian blanket; I am driven to arise by 4AM to escape the cold. Often the storms start at sunrise, sometimes not. It's prudent to be up very early. The worse thing I have experienced since I started from Ohio, here in the Apocalypse is waking unexpectedly to choking from the incoming bad air storms. One's face turns purple, pains shoot down the left arm, and it feels like someone is sitting on your chest. You can't catch a breath and panic sets in. Sometimes you just decide to die. But, if you are a survivor, you wake up miraculously and stumble to your feet and begin to walk to get out ahead of the storms, because the worse is yet to come. The air gets much thicker in the heart of the storm. Nobody survives being in the heart of the storms here in 2012. Is it free will to keep stumbling forward, or determinism. Who is destined to survive? Having survived waking to bad air five time already I feel that I am living eternal recurrence of the same nightmarish hell; like the nightmare of eternal recurrence that drove Nietzsche insane.
While sleeping on the cold hard ground, my head on a rock to relieve the tension on my neck; I felt a series of tremors. I fear earthquakes may start soon here in Georgia. The mountains seem alive swaying and clutching. Earthquakes are what I would do next if I were God to thin the stock of humans down further. Eventually we survivors of the bad air will get use to to the cold and wet conditions, our ancestors did it, so can we.
What does he have in store for us next?
end
fiction
edward w pritchard
Johnson City, Tennessee and my inner spiritual light is very low today.
Later, nine miles east of the town of Johnson City and I am at a farm celebrating Dewali [deepavali] with a few dozen holy people. I am humbled by their goodness and sense of calm.
Hindu's, Siks and Jain's celebrate this festival, Dewali, as a time of prayer. Clay pots are lighted and we celebrate the triumph of good over evil in the world. As we pray, we ask for prosperity in the coming year. These people accept as a given the existence of evil in the world. Many pilgrims here, like the ancient Stoic philosopher Chrysippus [ 280-207BC] before them , find it intellectually consistent that good and evil must co-exist, one is the inverse of the other. I am just coming to grips with this concept and it is helping me develop a more realistic outlook as I travel here in 2012, during the time of the Apocalypse. I knew many successful people in my old life who held to the philosophy of moral relativism. Whatever worked to help them achieve their ends is justified. Nietzsche called that beyond good and evil. I am struggling with that idea.
I have payed for the sweets and snacks for the entire group, that we now eat to celebrate the holiday Dewali , and I am popular and welcome today. My tired soul drinks in the passion in the air here at this small rural farm. I have spent five days helping with the harvest. Even the federal troops here, overseeing the harvest, seem benevolent. The crop we harvest is very valuable, one of the last harvests I am afraid for years to come so I am glad to assist with getting it reaped and saved for future generations.
As I continue my walk East the fireworks back at the farm can be heard a long way off. I also paid for those so the surviving children here would have some fun today. Fireworks are popular with children during Dewali in India. It is considered bad form to start Dewali in debt, back there in India; so I have repudiated my debts here in America on my two remaining credit cards. I don't think I will send my New York bankers a notice of my repudiation, but I have proclaimed it just the same. Try it, it's very liberating.
I am going to join the Appalachian trail soon and head South down into Georgia. The trail will be nice because it's a long green tunnel that will gently lead me closer to my goal of meditating and rejuvenating at the Sea Islands of Georgia and spending some time in the warm sunshine of the Atlantic coast. I understand that tens of million of birds have migrated to the Georgia Sea Islands on their way to South America this year. I try to stay away from birds anymore but I guess I can share the Sea Islands with them if I get to my destination.
Amicalola Falls State Park, here in Georgia, at the beginning of the Appalachian trail is still open and the last ranger here says I can stay for free. They are closing in a few days and have given me new clothes and a room to stay in. This is a sacred place to the ancient Cherokee Indians and it feels holy to me now. I am rushing to stay ahead of the storms which are relentlessly moving South again.
Just north of Amicalola Falls, at Springer Mountain pass, I was attacked by wolves. They didn't eat me because of the odor of death about me from the bad air in me. Still, it was terrifying to wake from a deep sleep to find five wolves looming over me. I need some civilization again. It has gotten bitterly cold over a 100 mile or so swatch ahead of the storms. At night it is below zero in the mountains. Very few humans are on the Appalachian trail. Maybe they are on the roads elsewhere, but I am afraid there are many more deaths.
Amicalola State Park is the very beginning of the Appalachian trail hike and every year before this hundreds of people left North towards Maine from here. Of course most of those hikers didn't make it to Maine. Many gave up a few miles from the start here at Amicalola State Park. That is proving a windfall for me. Just I and the last ranger are here at the Park. He closes operations soon for no money or supplies come to him for his payroll or necessities from far away Washington, DC. He says the federal government will no longer keep up frontier operations anymore, anywhere, in the entire Country. While there are no barbarians like during the ancient fall of Rome, this last outpost in America will be missed. It is the last remnant of civilization I have seen since Nashville.
The ranger is asking me my advice, for he faces an ethical quandary. Should he stay here and do his duty as long as he can; or head out for Washington DC and try to requisition funds and supplies for the future of his charge here? In the end I told the ranger it would be suicide for him to head North so he is returning to his family. First however, I get to stay in a the comfortable lodge for a few days and I pick and choose from all the fine LL Bean hiking boots, and warm jackets and backpacks of supplies. Previous hikers dumped these items on the trail in the Park in the past because they couldn't believe the weight of their possessions and because they had badly miscalculated the difficulty in walking a long-long way. Those hikers from middle America, pilgrims on the Appalachian trail, had their satori at the beginning of their walk. They quickly realized that carrying too many things and too much weight is a burden to enlightenment. If they walked on after discarding some of the things they had brought with them; it was for exercise only, they already saw the light so to speak.
Rested, now I realize I made a major miscalculation. It's not one in one thousand that have survived the wind storms, but one in ten thousand. That means there are now only one thousand survivors left from my home state of Ohio. West Virginia where I often go, statistically at least, now should have only sixty-four survivors left. That is staggering. Still to cull the human survivors back to 600 individuals; only one in ten million can survive. What does it mean? Am I just being delusional in my fears for the future? Why would any type of intelligently designed plan need to have so many feeling, thinking humans die? What would be the purpose, if any?
People I meet on the trail are becoming more philosophical and much less inclined to materialistic theories. Still, the theory of survival of the fittest survives, although it's difficult to see proof of it in action. One finds an ex-college linebacker dead from the bad air and nearby,ten feet away, a baby crawls along merrily thriving in the same air. Survival of the fittest always was framed in terms of there not being enough food. Now there is plenty of food, because no one has an appetite. It's air and water that are scarce. People fight and kill each other on the trail over medicine or blankets, or reclaiming stolen purple glasses, but not food.
People cling to the idea that if they live it's because they are fit, worthy and special. Everyone has a bias toward free will. They think that human initiative and resiliency can overcome any obstacles. I just about gave up again because of the cold. Sleeping on the ground, literally using a rock for a pillow, wrapped in my torn Indian blanket; I am driven to arise by 4AM to escape the cold. Often the storms start at sunrise, sometimes not. It's prudent to be up very early. The worse thing I have experienced since I started from Ohio, here in the Apocalypse is waking unexpectedly to choking from the incoming bad air storms. One's face turns purple, pains shoot down the left arm, and it feels like someone is sitting on your chest. You can't catch a breath and panic sets in. Sometimes you just decide to die. But, if you are a survivor, you wake up miraculously and stumble to your feet and begin to walk to get out ahead of the storms, because the worse is yet to come. The air gets much thicker in the heart of the storm. Nobody survives being in the heart of the storms here in 2012. Is it free will to keep stumbling forward, or determinism. Who is destined to survive? Having survived waking to bad air five time already I feel that I am living eternal recurrence of the same nightmarish hell; like the nightmare of eternal recurrence that drove Nietzsche insane.
While sleeping on the cold hard ground, my head on a rock to relieve the tension on my neck; I felt a series of tremors. I fear earthquakes may start soon here in Georgia. The mountains seem alive swaying and clutching. Earthquakes are what I would do next if I were God to thin the stock of humans down further. Eventually we survivors of the bad air will get use to to the cold and wet conditions, our ancestors did it, so can we.
What does he have in store for us next?
end
Tuesday, November 2, 2010
To President Obama again
To President Obama again
fiction
edward w pritchard
Humbly and subserviently as usual, properly respectful, I am confused by your change of heart, or is it a political flip flop? I don't understand, I probably just can't see the big picture. I try to remain faithful and keep my full trust in our leaders.
Here's what I wrote before to you. Read it if you have time. Maybe it's a different approach from what you are usually told from your new New York friends or our countries foreign bond holders.
I am sorrowful to see you and your team changed their opinion on the modification of mortgages and helping the working poor stay in their homes. You remember them, part of your constituency, they helped elect you and you made them some promises, back then. I am sure I am not seeing the big picture, you have those New York Bankers ear and all, and those foreign bond holders I hear they talk loudly down there in Washington. Still, we keep our faith in you. Don't abandon us.
Here's what I wrote before:
Thursday, January 21, 2010
Wat Tyler Stay On Your Horse
Wat Tyler Stay On Your Horse
Fiction
Edward W Pritchard
President Obama be careful of your political friends and advisers, they do not have our best interest at heart, or yours either and they will turn on you when you least expect it.
Wat Tyler was the leader of the Peasants revolt in England circa 1381 and lead an army of 500,000 peasants, looking to end the injustices of feudalism and in particularly the unpopular head tax which was not a graduated tax and all must pay the same amount rich or poor which was crushing the people. The young King Richard who was 15 was being advised by others and when Tyler agreed to a parlay alone with the King, the advisers to the King cut him down when he got off his horse.
Powerful interests in New York and myopic money lenders think of nothing but Money and are ruining our Country. They join with other power groups such as the health care lobby, the real estate lobby, bankers lobby etc, etc and obscure every issue so the truth is dulled by their decaying value system, as they attempt to keep the corpse of their antiquated bloated life style alive.
Any legitimate reform proposed by you in good faith, out of the strength of your heart's true concern for our Country, which you love, will be corrupted by their greed and inequity and although wicked they will skillfully work the current system, using money mischievously, to have all reform die or be twisted to their advantage.
Please, step back, regroup and please
Don't get off your horse, and keep us, your true friends, the "500,000", close by.
A Patriot, who loves his country
Posted by edward pritchard at 11:38 AM
Labels: president obama's true friends
0 comments:
And I wrote:
Thursday, September 9, 2010
The President who had perfect children
fiction
edward w pritchard
The sitting President had perfect children, they were far from grown, so he didn't know about that yet, and his wife was a lot of help.
He had a lot of trouble understanding the rest of us. He was a high achiever, early riser, and a man who could organize and get things done. Self made and from modest circumstances he overcame obstacles to rise to the top.
Why were we always complaining. We didn't help ourselves, needed direction and mollycoddling and never seemed to know the score.
He couldn't be straight with us concerning our deficiencies, his advisers wouldn't let him.
So we waited and watched for leadership, vision and guidance.
The President waited too, dancing his time on the stage.
Posted by edward pritchard at 6:35 AM
Labels: leadership
0 comments:
end
fiction
edward w pritchard
Humbly and subserviently as usual, properly respectful, I am confused by your change of heart, or is it a political flip flop? I don't understand, I probably just can't see the big picture. I try to remain faithful and keep my full trust in our leaders.
Here's what I wrote before to you. Read it if you have time. Maybe it's a different approach from what you are usually told from your new New York friends or our countries foreign bond holders.
I am sorrowful to see you and your team changed their opinion on the modification of mortgages and helping the working poor stay in their homes. You remember them, part of your constituency, they helped elect you and you made them some promises, back then. I am sure I am not seeing the big picture, you have those New York Bankers ear and all, and those foreign bond holders I hear they talk loudly down there in Washington. Still, we keep our faith in you. Don't abandon us.
Here's what I wrote before:
Thursday, January 21, 2010
Wat Tyler Stay On Your Horse
Wat Tyler Stay On Your Horse
Fiction
Edward W Pritchard
President Obama be careful of your political friends and advisers, they do not have our best interest at heart, or yours either and they will turn on you when you least expect it.
Wat Tyler was the leader of the Peasants revolt in England circa 1381 and lead an army of 500,000 peasants, looking to end the injustices of feudalism and in particularly the unpopular head tax which was not a graduated tax and all must pay the same amount rich or poor which was crushing the people. The young King Richard who was 15 was being advised by others and when Tyler agreed to a parlay alone with the King, the advisers to the King cut him down when he got off his horse.
Powerful interests in New York and myopic money lenders think of nothing but Money and are ruining our Country. They join with other power groups such as the health care lobby, the real estate lobby, bankers lobby etc, etc and obscure every issue so the truth is dulled by their decaying value system, as they attempt to keep the corpse of their antiquated bloated life style alive.
Any legitimate reform proposed by you in good faith, out of the strength of your heart's true concern for our Country, which you love, will be corrupted by their greed and inequity and although wicked they will skillfully work the current system, using money mischievously, to have all reform die or be twisted to their advantage.
Please, step back, regroup and please
Don't get off your horse, and keep us, your true friends, the "500,000", close by.
A Patriot, who loves his country
Posted by edward pritchard at 11:38 AM
Labels: president obama's true friends
0 comments:
And I wrote:
Thursday, September 9, 2010
The President who had perfect children
fiction
edward w pritchard
The sitting President had perfect children, they were far from grown, so he didn't know about that yet, and his wife was a lot of help.
He had a lot of trouble understanding the rest of us. He was a high achiever, early riser, and a man who could organize and get things done. Self made and from modest circumstances he overcame obstacles to rise to the top.
Why were we always complaining. We didn't help ourselves, needed direction and mollycoddling and never seemed to know the score.
He couldn't be straight with us concerning our deficiencies, his advisers wouldn't let him.
So we waited and watched for leadership, vision and guidance.
The President waited too, dancing his time on the stage.
Posted by edward pritchard at 6:35 AM
Labels: leadership
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