Come jack, poor jack part 11
fiction
edward w pritchard
Jack the ripper- you don't seem to be afraid of me
Author I understand you are a part of myself. You allow us to think about murder intellectually.
Jack- you haven't wanted to kill?
Author, but conscience controls; and lack of passion maybe
Jack- well I suppose you are better studying me than Adolph Hitler, like you were doing recently. but, I wonder, do you suppose Hitler killed men one on one with a bayonet in World War One? I hear he turned his head when animals were hurt, couldn't bear to watch, but watched the men who tried to blow him up in his bunker as they were slowly hung over and over as they suffered.
Author-I guess you might be right about profiling. Hitler loved his Mother and enjoyed opera. Did you read what I wrote in this blog about Hitler and Wittgenstein? How do you suppose Hitler miraculously survived so many near fatalities in World War 1. God had a hundred chances to erase him.
Jack the ripper- just luck, like me he is the "tail" in probability, the one in a million that everyone knows about. Logically there should be worse monsters in the future than Hitler, who managed killing in large numbers and made killing banal, and me who killed in small numbers and made killing horrific.
end part 11
Thursday, June 30, 2011
come Jack, Poor Jack part 10
come Jack, Poor Jack part 10
fiction
edward w pritchard
Jack the Ripper- [tentatively] Mr. Pritchard, are you alright?
Author- [Sadly ] I was reflecting on the humanity of the five women that Jack the Ripper actually murdered. I was thinking of the Beatles song, "Eleanor Rigby". There is a civilized sorrow displayed by British civilization that is a bellwether for the world's societies.
Jack- [ after a few seconds] sorry to put you through this
Author - how was the City
jack- what City ? [jauntily] [looking around the small house] I see the housekeeper is still on strike
author- I was reading that you were an Artist
Jack- you mean James Whistler's assistant Walter Sickert? He's not me, but maybe he did nail it when he painted " Jack the Ripper's Bedroom" or do you prefer " How shall we pay the rent"
Author- you are not Sickert, you are not Tumblety the American Doctor, you are not Kosminski, who were you?
Jack the ripper none of them, although wasn't Tumblety really Canadian? Let's focus on what I was
Author- first, how was it that you could come and go about White chapel unobserved
Jack the ripper- I couldn't , as a man of some financial means who had business in White Chapel, I did what was customary and paid protection money to a few of the local gangs. No one reports another to the police under those circumstances, I won't detail the particulars but I was able to come and go for most of the time until after the fourth murder. After that I had to be more clever to survive.
Author-did you wish to be caught
Jack- not during the activities, maybe later upon reflection
end part 10
fiction
edward w pritchard
Jack the Ripper- [tentatively] Mr. Pritchard, are you alright?
Author- [Sadly ] I was reflecting on the humanity of the five women that Jack the Ripper actually murdered. I was thinking of the Beatles song, "Eleanor Rigby". There is a civilized sorrow displayed by British civilization that is a bellwether for the world's societies.
Jack- [ after a few seconds] sorry to put you through this
Author - how was the City
jack- what City ? [jauntily] [looking around the small house] I see the housekeeper is still on strike
author- I was reading that you were an Artist
Jack- you mean James Whistler's assistant Walter Sickert? He's not me, but maybe he did nail it when he painted " Jack the Ripper's Bedroom" or do you prefer " How shall we pay the rent"
Author- you are not Sickert, you are not Tumblety the American Doctor, you are not Kosminski, who were you?
Jack the ripper none of them, although wasn't Tumblety really Canadian? Let's focus on what I was
Author- first, how was it that you could come and go about White chapel unobserved
Jack the ripper- I couldn't , as a man of some financial means who had business in White Chapel, I did what was customary and paid protection money to a few of the local gangs. No one reports another to the police under those circumstances, I won't detail the particulars but I was able to come and go for most of the time until after the fourth murder. After that I had to be more clever to survive.
Author-did you wish to be caught
Jack- not during the activities, maybe later upon reflection
end part 10
come jack poor jack part 9
come jack poor jack part 9
fiction
edward w pritchard
Jack the Ripper- I am sorry to interrupt you when you are reading
author- [preoccupied] It's OK what's up
Jack- I liked that last Story about Anastasis. I take it that is some type of creative jab at me?
Author- sorry, I hadn't realized
Jack the Ripper-Get back to your research. I am going to explore the sad vanishing City of Akron, we can talk tonight
fiction
edward w pritchard
Jack the Ripper- I am sorry to interrupt you when you are reading
author- [preoccupied] It's OK what's up
Jack- I liked that last Story about Anastasis. I take it that is some type of creative jab at me?
Author- sorry, I hadn't realized
Jack the Ripper-Get back to your research. I am going to explore the sad vanishing City of Akron, we can talk tonight
Anastasis splits up her assets
Anastasis splits up her assets
fiction
edward w pritchard
A girl has to push to survive and Anastasis was falling behind. A famous singer now has ten million faces book followers. Anastasis once had more followers in social media than anyone. Times change, fortune shift.
Anastasis was a porn star, very soft porn, 90% nudity or less. She didn't fit the normal model of a high profile glamor girl so she had to work double hard to get ahead. Short, five feet one, not buxom, cute but funny faced, curly dark hair, and actually rather odd. Anastasis worked very hard to succeed and she wasn't going to let a self promoting female musician out promote her. Still it was hard to be more odd than some of these new girl singers.
Anastasis decided to re-promote herself on her web site by dividing her presentation of her body parts each into a separate pop up box. One for derriere, one for legs one for chest, etc. Pictures and commentary would accompany. For example feet. Her small delicate foot would be shown from a few angles, sometimes with high heels, often bare and then commentary would mention a splinter she had in her big toe; for someone into that type of thing.
In time Anastasis' new system began to increase her exposure on social networking and without substantially increasing her client base she began to never the less increase her followers on faces book by dividing and promoting her assets in new and creative ways.
fiction
edward w pritchard
A girl has to push to survive and Anastasis was falling behind. A famous singer now has ten million faces book followers. Anastasis once had more followers in social media than anyone. Times change, fortune shift.
Anastasis was a porn star, very soft porn, 90% nudity or less. She didn't fit the normal model of a high profile glamor girl so she had to work double hard to get ahead. Short, five feet one, not buxom, cute but funny faced, curly dark hair, and actually rather odd. Anastasis worked very hard to succeed and she wasn't going to let a self promoting female musician out promote her. Still it was hard to be more odd than some of these new girl singers.
Anastasis decided to re-promote herself on her web site by dividing her presentation of her body parts each into a separate pop up box. One for derriere, one for legs one for chest, etc. Pictures and commentary would accompany. For example feet. Her small delicate foot would be shown from a few angles, sometimes with high heels, often bare and then commentary would mention a splinter she had in her big toe; for someone into that type of thing.
In time Anastasis' new system began to increase her exposure on social networking and without substantially increasing her client base she began to never the less increase her followers on faces book by dividing and promoting her assets in new and creative ways.
Wednesday, June 29, 2011
come jack the ripper, poor jack the ripper part 8
come jack the ripper, poor jack the ripper part 8
fiction
edward w pritchard
Jack the ripper- [ talking off the record about the movie the author wants to write about himself] By all means start with the blog of May 15, about jack the ripper planning a seaside vacation; that's your key insight. Next please say something about all the men in White Chapel who were considered a suspect for my crimes just because they were homosexuals. Then I think you should talk about why I wasn't observed, or caught and how the various special interests groups and for lack of a better word lobbyists in London in 1888 manipulated the news of my activities. That's why I am famous today. Maybe some vignettes of the interesting anecdotal stories I told you I would share with you if you stop being so judgmental.
Author- do you think we could make any money?
end part 8
fiction
edward w pritchard
Jack the ripper- [ talking off the record about the movie the author wants to write about himself] By all means start with the blog of May 15, about jack the ripper planning a seaside vacation; that's your key insight. Next please say something about all the men in White Chapel who were considered a suspect for my crimes just because they were homosexuals. Then I think you should talk about why I wasn't observed, or caught and how the various special interests groups and for lack of a better word lobbyists in London in 1888 manipulated the news of my activities. That's why I am famous today. Maybe some vignettes of the interesting anecdotal stories I told you I would share with you if you stop being so judgmental.
Author- do you think we could make any money?
end part 8
Come Jack, poor Jack part 7
Come Jack, poor Jack, part 7
fiction
edward w pritchard
Author Shall we start?
Jack the Ripper- I am impressed. You have been busy
Author- What do you mean
Jack-Ten hours of research by you since our last talk. The casebook, Ripperologist, and all those books of ridiculous theories that I never got a cent from. Books, book books. Ne're a fact in sight. Each author making a theory of who I was and then bending the facts and evidence to suit their purposes. But- I am glad to see you doing your homework. It makes me want to help you.
Author- why do you think you have generated so much media interest
Jack- Well the 1988 centennial of my activities made a lot of people a lot of money. Then there is the shock value of my crimes, but, also I think I am a lot less creepy than the American serial killers of the last thirty years. In 1888 some people just called me a sad killer of women. But as for your interest, evidenced here in my crimes, I think, that I make people think logically who don't ordinarily do so. Like you. You have spent several days weighing the evidence of what I did to the five women, and why, and who I might be.
Author - So you consider yourself a serial killer.
Jack- well, maybe I was a serial killer, but all the theories you have in America and all the forensic study on television, it confuses me. Maybe you can explain my motivation in the movie about me you want to write
author- How do you know about that
Jack the ripper- I know what you know, now ask the right questions so you can understand me
author- why did you stop?
Jack-didn't I answer that, o very well, I needed to get back to work, back to my real life for a while, we can't stay on vacation forever
author- if one decides to stop killing then they are expressing "free will". Can a serial killer have free will?
Jack the ripper- you don't seem to realize that I was not mentally ill, just very violent and perverse. Of course I could stop, But I had to remove myself from the opportunity to prey on prostitutes. I'll tell you when I returned to my real life there were no prostitutes around there.
Author- Were you satiated after the gruesomeness of the Mary Jane Kelly incident
Jack- remember it's not necessarily gruesome to me. It was a mess though. I took my times, there was no rush on that one.
Author so were you finished then
Jack- no, I wasn't necessarily finished then, but why don't you ask me some gory details of the Mary Jane Kelly brutal murder for your readers
end part 7
fiction
edward w pritchard
Author Shall we start?
Jack the Ripper- I am impressed. You have been busy
Author- What do you mean
Jack-Ten hours of research by you since our last talk. The casebook, Ripperologist, and all those books of ridiculous theories that I never got a cent from. Books, book books. Ne're a fact in sight. Each author making a theory of who I was and then bending the facts and evidence to suit their purposes. But- I am glad to see you doing your homework. It makes me want to help you.
Author- why do you think you have generated so much media interest
Jack- Well the 1988 centennial of my activities made a lot of people a lot of money. Then there is the shock value of my crimes, but, also I think I am a lot less creepy than the American serial killers of the last thirty years. In 1888 some people just called me a sad killer of women. But as for your interest, evidenced here in my crimes, I think, that I make people think logically who don't ordinarily do so. Like you. You have spent several days weighing the evidence of what I did to the five women, and why, and who I might be.
Author - So you consider yourself a serial killer.
Jack- well, maybe I was a serial killer, but all the theories you have in America and all the forensic study on television, it confuses me. Maybe you can explain my motivation in the movie about me you want to write
author- How do you know about that
Jack the ripper- I know what you know, now ask the right questions so you can understand me
author- why did you stop?
Jack-didn't I answer that, o very well, I needed to get back to work, back to my real life for a while, we can't stay on vacation forever
author- if one decides to stop killing then they are expressing "free will". Can a serial killer have free will?
Jack the ripper- you don't seem to realize that I was not mentally ill, just very violent and perverse. Of course I could stop, But I had to remove myself from the opportunity to prey on prostitutes. I'll tell you when I returned to my real life there were no prostitutes around there.
Author- Were you satiated after the gruesomeness of the Mary Jane Kelly incident
Jack- remember it's not necessarily gruesome to me. It was a mess though. I took my times, there was no rush on that one.
Author so were you finished then
Jack- no, I wasn't necessarily finished then, but why don't you ask me some gory details of the Mary Jane Kelly brutal murder for your readers
end part 7
Monday, June 27, 2011
Come Jack, poor Jack-part 6
Come Jack, poor Jack-part 6
fiction
edward w pritchard
Jack the Ripper- Mr. Pritchard allow me to start
Author- Ok, , [intrigued]
Jack- you went to London on your vacation, and didn't take the Jack the Ripper tour
Author- yes, I didn't know about it then
Jack, Ok, but you are a strange duck. You spent all your time in London at the British museum and the National Gallery,- well I guess it takes all kinds.
Author- Jack were you an American?
Jack the Ripper - Heavens no, that's an insulting thing to say, You must be thinking I was Tumblety, the mad American Doctor who collected wombs.No I have problems but I definitely wasn't American.
Author But you did take two rings from the Chapman girl
Jack the ripper- well maybe or maybe not who is to say, that maybe some-one who lived in White Chapel came on the body there on the street and just took the rings. The people there were very poor. It was sad. The police or Scotland yard could never understand how there were no witnesses to what I did. My ghastly crimes. But, think about it, Would a person living in poverty in an American ghetto now want to report a crime or what they heard or saw to the police? I was lucky yes but times were different then. Once on one of the crimes I forget which, several people looked out of their [apartment] windows at me as I finished my work. I am sure I saw their faces watching me before they pulled away.
Author Could the police now have caught you with modern forensic methods
Jack- well they would certainty have arrested someone from the likely suspects. Maybe the crazy Kosminski or the eccentric Tumblety or someone. DNA evidence will find a suspect guilty of something eventually.
Author Do you consider yourself a violent person
Jack the ripper- yes, brutally so; one has no idea of what I was capable of.
Author- Tell me about the night of the double murders
Jack- Well sometimes we just feel especially motivated, like doing more than usual. Don't glare at me so judgmentally. I will be serious. That night things didn't go as planned and I had to improvise a little. I thought it finished well, for me at least. I was rather lucky that night ; lucky to escape right under their noses.
Author- I need a break
end part 6
fiction
edward w pritchard
Jack the Ripper- Mr. Pritchard allow me to start
Author- Ok, , [intrigued]
Jack- you went to London on your vacation, and didn't take the Jack the Ripper tour
Author- yes, I didn't know about it then
Jack, Ok, but you are a strange duck. You spent all your time in London at the British museum and the National Gallery,- well I guess it takes all kinds.
Author- Jack were you an American?
Jack the Ripper - Heavens no, that's an insulting thing to say, You must be thinking I was Tumblety, the mad American Doctor who collected wombs.No I have problems but I definitely wasn't American.
Author But you did take two rings from the Chapman girl
Jack the ripper- well maybe or maybe not who is to say, that maybe some-one who lived in White Chapel came on the body there on the street and just took the rings. The people there were very poor. It was sad. The police or Scotland yard could never understand how there were no witnesses to what I did. My ghastly crimes. But, think about it, Would a person living in poverty in an American ghetto now want to report a crime or what they heard or saw to the police? I was lucky yes but times were different then. Once on one of the crimes I forget which, several people looked out of their [apartment] windows at me as I finished my work. I am sure I saw their faces watching me before they pulled away.
Author Could the police now have caught you with modern forensic methods
Jack- well they would certainty have arrested someone from the likely suspects. Maybe the crazy Kosminski or the eccentric Tumblety or someone. DNA evidence will find a suspect guilty of something eventually.
Author Do you consider yourself a violent person
Jack the ripper- yes, brutally so; one has no idea of what I was capable of.
Author- Tell me about the night of the double murders
Jack- Well sometimes we just feel especially motivated, like doing more than usual. Don't glare at me so judgmentally. I will be serious. That night things didn't go as planned and I had to improvise a little. I thought it finished well, for me at least. I was rather lucky that night ; lucky to escape right under their noses.
Author- I need a break
end part 6
Come Jack, poor jack part 5
Come Jack, poor Jack, part 5
fiction
edward w pritchard
Author-Let's come back to that question about your feelings toward your victims again later. Instead, why did you write the letter to George Akin Lusk head of the vigilantes committee with a kidney of one of your victim Catherine Eddowes attached?
Jack the Ripper- I am sorry Mr. Pritchard. Some of us have to promote ourselves. However, if that letter to Lusk was authentic, from me, I promised that theatrical flesh eating routine to shock the good people of London and it worked. That's why I am still infamous today. I spell a few words wrong and I am labeled a stupid local and the police stop looking for a Doctor and look for me to live there in White Chapel.
author You didn't live there?
Jack- I told you I went there for my vacation. To meet some new women and practice my specialty.
Author Had you went to other places to have a similar vacation?
Jack- No place is like London. Besides, I knew someone in White Chapel. One of my victims actually.
Author- the last One
jack Yes yes, the pretty one they call her. I went to her place and well things got out of hand. I left a mess.
Author Why did you stop after the last one, Mary Jane Kelly
Jack Did I stop?
End part 5
fiction
edward w pritchard
Author-Let's come back to that question about your feelings toward your victims again later. Instead, why did you write the letter to George Akin Lusk head of the vigilantes committee with a kidney of one of your victim Catherine Eddowes attached?
Jack the Ripper- I am sorry Mr. Pritchard. Some of us have to promote ourselves. However, if that letter to Lusk was authentic, from me, I promised that theatrical flesh eating routine to shock the good people of London and it worked. That's why I am still infamous today. I spell a few words wrong and I am labeled a stupid local and the police stop looking for a Doctor and look for me to live there in White Chapel.
author You didn't live there?
Jack- I told you I went there for my vacation. To meet some new women and practice my specialty.
Author Had you went to other places to have a similar vacation?
Jack- No place is like London. Besides, I knew someone in White Chapel. One of my victims actually.
Author- the last One
jack Yes yes, the pretty one they call her. I went to her place and well things got out of hand. I left a mess.
Author Why did you stop after the last one, Mary Jane Kelly
Jack Did I stop?
End part 5
Come Jack, poor jack part 4
Come Jack poor Jack, part 4
fiction
edward w pritchard
Author- What was the world like in 1888?
Jack-" well let's see, . a guy named Albert Rockwell begins manufacturing "New Departure" doorbells, and on April 20th 1888 - 246 people were reported killed by hail in Moradabad, India, the infamous "Jack the Ripper" butchers 2 more women, Liz Stride and Kate Eddowes on September 30, 1888 and worst of all William Bundy patented the time card clock on November 20, 1888.
Author Did you enjoy killing the five women.
Jack-I don't like to talk about my sexual experiences, but since you asked, no I won't discuss that but I worked very hard to arrange those meetings with the women there in White Chapel, London England in the fall of 1888. A dry Fall, weather wise not much rain and on my nights out not much fog. Crowded though, lots of foreigners and lots of police moving about the area because of me I suppose.
end part 4
fiction
edward w pritchard
Author- What was the world like in 1888?
Jack-" well let's see, . a guy named Albert Rockwell begins manufacturing "New Departure" doorbells, and on April 20th 1888 - 246 people were reported killed by hail in Moradabad, India, the infamous "Jack the Ripper" butchers 2 more women, Liz Stride and Kate Eddowes on September 30, 1888 and worst of all William Bundy patented the time card clock on November 20, 1888.
Author Did you enjoy killing the five women.
Jack-I don't like to talk about my sexual experiences, but since you asked, no I won't discuss that but I worked very hard to arrange those meetings with the women there in White Chapel, London England in the fall of 1888. A dry Fall, weather wise not much rain and on my nights out not much fog. Crowded though, lots of foreigners and lots of police moving about the area because of me I suppose.
end part 4
Demand before a suit threatened by Muammar Gaddafi
Demand before a suit threatened by Muammar Gaddafi
fiction
edward w pritchard
This is most embarrassing to me as the Author of this blog; for I am a patriotic American. I have been contacted in writing by Muammar Gaddafi. Apparently he doesn't realize how few readers I have. He wants me to announce something for him.
Anyway an arrest warrant has been sworn out against our enemy Mr Gaddafi and he has taken offense and has struck back against America's commander in Chief. He is threatening a suit against Mr. President for failure to follow the dicatates of the American 1946 full employment legislation.
I am quite sheepish here. Do you think there is anything to his threatened lawsuit?
fiction
edward w pritchard
This is most embarrassing to me as the Author of this blog; for I am a patriotic American. I have been contacted in writing by Muammar Gaddafi. Apparently he doesn't realize how few readers I have. He wants me to announce something for him.
Anyway an arrest warrant has been sworn out against our enemy Mr Gaddafi and he has taken offense and has struck back against America's commander in Chief. He is threatening a suit against Mr. President for failure to follow the dicatates of the American 1946 full employment legislation.
I am quite sheepish here. Do you think there is anything to his threatened lawsuit?
Come Jack, poor jack part 3
Come Jack, poor jack part 3
fiction
edward w pritchard
The conversation continued over tea. We pick up
Author -so what of your childhood
Jack-I seem to remember only being an adolescent, and a rebellious one, although I had much potential
Author back to the White Chapel Women, Did you know them
Jack -Only in a general sense, like I know you Mr. Pritchard
Author What do you mean
Jack- finally yes yes pin me down, I enjoy the sport
Author Answer the question please
Jack Well I know of most people, their natures are familiar to me, Sometimes they are like me sometimes not; but always when they are at their worse I feel I know them
Author- Are you the Devil?
Jack- Oh, I am sure your readers are so surprised! It's so convenient, only a monster or the Devil could hack up and scatter parts of five women about. Meanwhile since 1888 more than 100 million people have been killed in wars and worked to death and a thousand other atrocities. Please Mr. Pritchard let's get back to the questions.
Author Do you believe in luck? were you lucky not to be caught in your work?
Jack Another good question. Luck, well I planned carefully, I tried to fit in and look like everyone else even if I was walking the streets of London at four AM blood stained. But I guess luck was with me there in white Chapel. I could tell a few funny anecdotal stories about my adventures but I don't want you scowling at me Mr. Pritchard. You can be quite judgmental.
end part 3
fiction
edward w pritchard
The conversation continued over tea. We pick up
Author -so what of your childhood
Jack-I seem to remember only being an adolescent, and a rebellious one, although I had much potential
Author back to the White Chapel Women, Did you know them
Jack -Only in a general sense, like I know you Mr. Pritchard
Author What do you mean
Jack- finally yes yes pin me down, I enjoy the sport
Author Answer the question please
Jack Well I know of most people, their natures are familiar to me, Sometimes they are like me sometimes not; but always when they are at their worse I feel I know them
Author- Are you the Devil?
Jack- Oh, I am sure your readers are so surprised! It's so convenient, only a monster or the Devil could hack up and scatter parts of five women about. Meanwhile since 1888 more than 100 million people have been killed in wars and worked to death and a thousand other atrocities. Please Mr. Pritchard let's get back to the questions.
Author Do you believe in luck? were you lucky not to be caught in your work?
Jack Another good question. Luck, well I planned carefully, I tried to fit in and look like everyone else even if I was walking the streets of London at four AM blood stained. But I guess luck was with me there in white Chapel. I could tell a few funny anecdotal stories about my adventures but I don't want you scowling at me Mr. Pritchard. You can be quite judgmental.
end part 3
Come Jack, poor Jack--part 2
Come Jack, poor Jack--part 2
fiction
edward w pritchard
Author-Excuse my clumsiness as an interviewer Jack, if I may call you that until we are formally introduced, but I have no formal training, no Socratic method, no Law, failure as a salesman, that type of thing.
Jack the Ripper-Mr. Pritchard, please don't self handicap yourself before we start. I thought your story " The talking Head" [ blog Jan 26 2010,] was quite good in it's interview technique. Just be yourself. I am the star here. Let me lead.
Author -Ok Jack, Were you an educated man?
Jack the Ripper -Do you mean did I study anatomy, or do you mean have I studied ethics. Did I read Kant's Categorical Imperative? That is what if everybody acted like I did. If they get mad at someone what if everybody acted like me and they literally cut off someone's nose.
Author- Of all the bad things history has said about you what upsets you the most?
Jack- I like that question, good good Mr. Pritchard. Well I read that I was voted the worst Brit [ British citizen] in history by the good people of the British Isles. Meanwhile, the sanctimonious modern British harvest the bounty from their ancestors endeavors enslaving the world and killing five million times more people than I ever did. But let me give you some advice as an author - get to the ghastly part, the readers are nodding off, I can see these things.
Author Why did you slash and rip your victims in such a brutal horrible inhuman fashion?
Jack Why not? Must we always be proper and civilized?
Author Were you a Christian
Jack At one time, maybe
Author Did something happen to you in your childhood that drove you to do what you did.
Jack You mean did I start fires as a teenagers and torture animals as your FBI profilers say about me? Do you have some tea around here.Let's take a break before I answer that one.
end part 2
fiction
edward w pritchard
Author-Excuse my clumsiness as an interviewer Jack, if I may call you that until we are formally introduced, but I have no formal training, no Socratic method, no Law, failure as a salesman, that type of thing.
Jack the Ripper-Mr. Pritchard, please don't self handicap yourself before we start. I thought your story " The talking Head" [ blog Jan 26 2010,] was quite good in it's interview technique. Just be yourself. I am the star here. Let me lead.
Author -Ok Jack, Were you an educated man?
Jack the Ripper -Do you mean did I study anatomy, or do you mean have I studied ethics. Did I read Kant's Categorical Imperative? That is what if everybody acted like I did. If they get mad at someone what if everybody acted like me and they literally cut off someone's nose.
Author- Of all the bad things history has said about you what upsets you the most?
Jack- I like that question, good good Mr. Pritchard. Well I read that I was voted the worst Brit [ British citizen] in history by the good people of the British Isles. Meanwhile, the sanctimonious modern British harvest the bounty from their ancestors endeavors enslaving the world and killing five million times more people than I ever did. But let me give you some advice as an author - get to the ghastly part, the readers are nodding off, I can see these things.
Author Why did you slash and rip your victims in such a brutal horrible inhuman fashion?
Jack Why not? Must we always be proper and civilized?
Author Were you a Christian
Jack At one time, maybe
Author Did something happen to you in your childhood that drove you to do what you did.
Jack You mean did I start fires as a teenagers and torture animals as your FBI profilers say about me? Do you have some tea around here.Let's take a break before I answer that one.
end part 2
Sunday, June 26, 2011
Come Jack, poor Jack
Come Jack, poor Jack
fiction
edward w pritchard
Author-Come Jack, poor Jack ; tell my readers what you told me. About the White Chapel murders. Please, tell my readers what you told me.
Jack the ripper- All right. Don't take offense, but since there aren't many readers; I'll tell my story.
continues
First why do I tell it here? I read what you wrote about jack the ripper plans his vacation [ may 15 blog] and it was an interesting intuition. So I came here with my story.
continues
I went for my vacation in 1888 to White Chapel. For my vacation I wanted a little excitement of the particular kind that stimulates me. Five brutal murders they said. Well first I'll say maybe five murders maybe many more.
Jack continues
Next , how was I able to move about undetected. Do I come from Hell? Isn't what I did evidence of that?
continues
Let me go on until I tire of this. What would you like to ask me? I know I will interest the readers here.
continues
Everyone is afraid they are a little like me. Everyone is afraid that when I am unmasked and exposed they will be staring straight at them self. Ask me questions, let your morbid curiosity wander to London, England 1888. What would you like to ask me, the White Chapel caped murderer, the infamous Jack the Ripper?
end part 1
fiction
edward w pritchard
Author-Come Jack, poor Jack ; tell my readers what you told me. About the White Chapel murders. Please, tell my readers what you told me.
Jack the ripper- All right. Don't take offense, but since there aren't many readers; I'll tell my story.
continues
First why do I tell it here? I read what you wrote about jack the ripper plans his vacation [ may 15 blog] and it was an interesting intuition. So I came here with my story.
continues
I went for my vacation in 1888 to White Chapel. For my vacation I wanted a little excitement of the particular kind that stimulates me. Five brutal murders they said. Well first I'll say maybe five murders maybe many more.
Jack continues
Next , how was I able to move about undetected. Do I come from Hell? Isn't what I did evidence of that?
continues
Let me go on until I tire of this. What would you like to ask me? I know I will interest the readers here.
continues
Everyone is afraid they are a little like me. Everyone is afraid that when I am unmasked and exposed they will be staring straight at them self. Ask me questions, let your morbid curiosity wander to London, England 1888. What would you like to ask me, the White Chapel caped murderer, the infamous Jack the Ripper?
end part 1
My fears were many
My fears were many
fiction
edward w pritchard
My fears were many but I didn't always have them. I see much and I feel greatly.
To those I have harmed I am so sorry. I must reach out and leave the past. The past is mutely haunting. The past whispers to me in a foreign language.
Over the next hill I can see the sunrise, I hear an old song as I march. It is reassuring though the words are not clear. I walk toward an unknown destination with a budding hint of a smile. It is a forgotten smile waiting to emerge.
Should I see one in pain I will reach out, should I experience your suffering I will soothe you. Excuse me I must walk forward. I hear the wind whisper, I see the red dawn. Life slips away, I must walk purposefully.
fiction
edward w pritchard
My fears were many but I didn't always have them. I see much and I feel greatly.
To those I have harmed I am so sorry. I must reach out and leave the past. The past is mutely haunting. The past whispers to me in a foreign language.
Over the next hill I can see the sunrise, I hear an old song as I march. It is reassuring though the words are not clear. I walk toward an unknown destination with a budding hint of a smile. It is a forgotten smile waiting to emerge.
Should I see one in pain I will reach out, should I experience your suffering I will soothe you. Excuse me I must walk forward. I hear the wind whisper, I see the red dawn. Life slips away, I must walk purposefully.
let the children play
let the children play
fiction
edward w pritchard
Let the children play with minimum interference. Recess at school is the most important class of the day. While running and jumping children process what they have learned. If a child can't jump, encourage them to move as best they can. All children can experience joy by joining in or watching others playing outside.
At home letting children play outside without parental interference is a key to healthy development. It helps them work off the stress that the world imposes on them that they do not know how to process with language yet.
Our society is complex with many rules. Expectations are high for everyone. Let the children play and rejoice. Even if you can't , let your child smile; your child's childhood is precious. Let the children laugh while they can.
Play is important, let the children play.
fiction
edward w pritchard
Let the children play with minimum interference. Recess at school is the most important class of the day. While running and jumping children process what they have learned. If a child can't jump, encourage them to move as best they can. All children can experience joy by joining in or watching others playing outside.
At home letting children play outside without parental interference is a key to healthy development. It helps them work off the stress that the world imposes on them that they do not know how to process with language yet.
Our society is complex with many rules. Expectations are high for everyone. Let the children play and rejoice. Even if you can't , let your child smile; your child's childhood is precious. Let the children laugh while they can.
Play is important, let the children play.
Saturday, June 25, 2011
fifty states and Puerto Rico approve the death penalty
Fifty states and Puerto Rico approve death penalty
fiction
edward w pritchard
Fifty states and Puerto Rico approve the death penalty for anyone who starts a sentence with the word look when being interviewed. Unanimous agreement among the States is unprecedented concerning capital punishment issues but as Senator Winslow of a Western State said: such a heinous crime as starting a sentence with the word look in a sanctimonious pompous fashion is trite and sickens the listener. Starting a sentence with the word look originated with lying New York CEO's of large banks during the last goverment bailout of Banks and has filtered to politicians, particularly when TV camera's are rolling.
Surprisingly the anti-capital punishment lobby has not raised a voice at this time. Look, sometimes the law gets it right.
fiction
edward w pritchard
Fifty states and Puerto Rico approve the death penalty for anyone who starts a sentence with the word look when being interviewed. Unanimous agreement among the States is unprecedented concerning capital punishment issues but as Senator Winslow of a Western State said: such a heinous crime as starting a sentence with the word look in a sanctimonious pompous fashion is trite and sickens the listener. Starting a sentence with the word look originated with lying New York CEO's of large banks during the last goverment bailout of Banks and has filtered to politicians, particularly when TV camera's are rolling.
Surprisingly the anti-capital punishment lobby has not raised a voice at this time. Look, sometimes the law gets it right.
Friday, June 24, 2011
owl on the flagpole
owl on the flagpole
fiction
edward w pritchard
My methods remain secret; I didn't need my owl on the flagpole's assistance to get arrested for violations of the Patriot Act. I have been writing against our Countries involvement in three far off wars. I detest bombings by drones and missiles; I agree drones are effective, but to me it removes the human to human contact, even between soldier and enemies, that eventually leads to the abhorrence at killing that brings about the cessation of such actions.
I had journeyed to the White House to protest with others our President's announcement to cut troop levels in Afghanistan by the end of next year. The troop levels would still be higher than they were when our President took office. Like others I admired our President and was confused by his militarism once he obtained high office.
I was arrested for protesting. My owl had perched on the top of the White House flagpole and I have been charged with several of the enabling violations of the Patriot Act because of it. My owl, Minerva, was able to lazily fly off before herself being captured; leaving me to face my Countries wrath for un-American activities alone.
fiction
edward w pritchard
My methods remain secret; I didn't need my owl on the flagpole's assistance to get arrested for violations of the Patriot Act. I have been writing against our Countries involvement in three far off wars. I detest bombings by drones and missiles; I agree drones are effective, but to me it removes the human to human contact, even between soldier and enemies, that eventually leads to the abhorrence at killing that brings about the cessation of such actions.
I had journeyed to the White House to protest with others our President's announcement to cut troop levels in Afghanistan by the end of next year. The troop levels would still be higher than they were when our President took office. Like others I admired our President and was confused by his militarism once he obtained high office.
I was arrested for protesting. My owl had perched on the top of the White House flagpole and I have been charged with several of the enabling violations of the Patriot Act because of it. My owl, Minerva, was able to lazily fly off before herself being captured; leaving me to face my Countries wrath for un-American activities alone.
Wednesday, June 22, 2011
Our new leader
Our new leader
fiction
edward w pritchard
Not a soldier, not a politician, but an artist will be our new leader. Reluctantly, reluctantly will he become aware of the cries of our people. Rich himself, still will he come to feel our suffering.
We want led, but we sense the direction; before our leader is arose. Take us over the Mountains Father ; all should walk together, together unless they be against us.
Unite, solidify, sacrifice now, vision is over that Mountain. Sunrise or sunset, bide our time. Bide our time; where is our new leader? When will our new leader appear? Do you hear the message?
I am listening, I watch, I wait. My will is ready. I will join. I will follow.
Arise Arise, the time is near; dawn breaks in the dark Mountains.
fiction
edward w pritchard
Not a soldier, not a politician, but an artist will be our new leader. Reluctantly, reluctantly will he become aware of the cries of our people. Rich himself, still will he come to feel our suffering.
We want led, but we sense the direction; before our leader is arose. Take us over the Mountains Father ; all should walk together, together unless they be against us.
Unite, solidify, sacrifice now, vision is over that Mountain. Sunrise or sunset, bide our time. Bide our time; where is our new leader? When will our new leader appear? Do you hear the message?
I am listening, I watch, I wait. My will is ready. I will join. I will follow.
Arise Arise, the time is near; dawn breaks in the dark Mountains.
Monday, June 20, 2011
Drop dead Baby boomers
Drop dead Baby boomers
fiction
edward w pritchard
Admit it, Jimi Hendrix carried on too long sometimes in a solo,
The wildest girl ever found on a Friday night went too far if Sunday morning at nine AM she wouldn't shut off when the time had come to sit and read the paper,
Peace and love is fine, but we need jobs, don't knock those that connive at the local defense plant making drones and smart bombs for secret undeclared wars
we must be moderate sometimes, time passes, we are over sixty now, the next generations must step center stage,
drop dead baby boomers
fiction
edward w pritchard
Admit it, Jimi Hendrix carried on too long sometimes in a solo,
The wildest girl ever found on a Friday night went too far if Sunday morning at nine AM she wouldn't shut off when the time had come to sit and read the paper,
Peace and love is fine, but we need jobs, don't knock those that connive at the local defense plant making drones and smart bombs for secret undeclared wars
we must be moderate sometimes, time passes, we are over sixty now, the next generations must step center stage,
drop dead baby boomers
catenated with bear; our trail magic is heralded -draft
catenated with bear; our trail magic is heralded -draft
fiction
edward w pritchard
I became catenated with the bear that was following me on the Appalachian Trail near Mount Rogers in Virginia. High above me in the silent ancient Mountains a bear guided me a ways as I searched for my path home. I walked faster and grabbed a club that afternoon for protection but the bear meant me no harm; a benevolent bear was following me to guide and protect me as I left the woods and resumed my trail back into my life in my everyday world. My spirit bear watched and guided me only for a minute or two that day in the Appalachian woods on the steep sloping mountain trails but now my paladin faithfully guides me from afar as I resume life's journey.
I am spiritually linked to the bear that watched me from above on the Appalachian Trail. Whenever my circumstance call for intervention my spirit bear, far off rambling about on the high trails in the Appalachian Mountains, guides me providing trail magic as needed and heralds my magic trail if I stray from my path. My magic bear also dutifully protects and guides those I love.
High up and far away in the ancient Appalachian Mountains I stumbled and tripped through life until my spirit bear and I met in the thick woods. Ever more my magic bear guides my steps as I resume my quest across life's tangled paths. Rejuvenated and protected I journey onward and forward.
fiction
edward w pritchard
I became catenated with the bear that was following me on the Appalachian Trail near Mount Rogers in Virginia. High above me in the silent ancient Mountains a bear guided me a ways as I searched for my path home. I walked faster and grabbed a club that afternoon for protection but the bear meant me no harm; a benevolent bear was following me to guide and protect me as I left the woods and resumed my trail back into my life in my everyday world. My spirit bear watched and guided me only for a minute or two that day in the Appalachian woods on the steep sloping mountain trails but now my paladin faithfully guides me from afar as I resume life's journey.
I am spiritually linked to the bear that watched me from above on the Appalachian Trail. Whenever my circumstance call for intervention my spirit bear, far off rambling about on the high trails in the Appalachian Mountains, guides me providing trail magic as needed and heralds my magic trail if I stray from my path. My magic bear also dutifully protects and guides those I love.
High up and far away in the ancient Appalachian Mountains I stumbled and tripped through life until my spirit bear and I met in the thick woods. Ever more my magic bear guides my steps as I resume my quest across life's tangled paths. Rejuvenated and protected I journey onward and forward.
Wednesday, June 15, 2011
courting Alison, slowly slowly
courting Alison, slowly slowly
fiction
edward w pritchard
It wasn't like me to be patient with a woman. Alison bid me wait and wait I did.
Alison wanted communication, not just romance, and not just passion. Passion is what I had in mind for I was smitten with Allison. That was before I realized that Allison needed me to talk to her, to explain my intentions, to soothe her forebodings with words.
Allison has a speech impediment but with time I have come to understand her as she talks to me. I need to learn sign language because Allison is also partially deaf. I have been learning sign language in an attempt to communicate with Allison my love.
Meanwhile I wait. Now and then Allison rubs against me or has a strategic wardrobe malfunction to keep me on an edge; but mostly I am courting Allison, slowly, slowly.
fiction
edward w pritchard
It wasn't like me to be patient with a woman. Alison bid me wait and wait I did.
Alison wanted communication, not just romance, and not just passion. Passion is what I had in mind for I was smitten with Allison. That was before I realized that Allison needed me to talk to her, to explain my intentions, to soothe her forebodings with words.
Allison has a speech impediment but with time I have come to understand her as she talks to me. I need to learn sign language because Allison is also partially deaf. I have been learning sign language in an attempt to communicate with Allison my love.
Meanwhile I wait. Now and then Allison rubs against me or has a strategic wardrobe malfunction to keep me on an edge; but mostly I am courting Allison, slowly, slowly.
we need them younger
we need them younger
fiction
edward w pritchard
Desperate to find female Deva's, singers of immense talent, procurers kept getting them younger and younger. Talent yes, but life's experiences that produced that soulful echo was lacking. A quandary, since no matter how successful a music career a Deva had at some point they got too old, lost their voice and their looks and the career and income stream for the corporations was disrupted.
Voice forward technology was an early attempt to remedy the problem of abrupt-ed careers by Deva's.
end part 1
to be developed
fiction
edward w pritchard
Desperate to find female Deva's, singers of immense talent, procurers kept getting them younger and younger. Talent yes, but life's experiences that produced that soulful echo was lacking. A quandary, since no matter how successful a music career a Deva had at some point they got too old, lost their voice and their looks and the career and income stream for the corporations was disrupted.
Voice forward technology was an early attempt to remedy the problem of abrupt-ed careers by Deva's.
end part 1
to be developed
Saturday, June 11, 2011
streaming video
streaming video
fiction
edward w pritchard
Dr. Laura Kepis to ER. Dr. Kepis STAT, ER.
Lazily I awoke from a nine minute nap in the intern's room. Asleep in a chair these last nine minutes, it sounded like my break was over.
A late supper of lay's low fat potato chips on the run. Through the three wings between me and the ER and I am set to go again.
A male nurse met me. This patient must be a security risk, we laid off all the night shift security guards. The nurse keeps calling me Ms. Kepis. I hate that, somehow he makes it sound so condescending. I am the diminutive psychologist on staff and the nursing staff treats me like a kid.
The patient is Canadian, like me. His accent gave him away. We had an immediate rapport. He's cute too, like my high school boyfriend, Byron.
The patient says if we put an IV in his arm the streaming video will be disrupted and he will die immediately. Protocol calls for an IV in a possible concussion. He is adamant. Apparently he grabbed the RN Mrs. Johnson's arm. I don't like her either, she is such a bitch.
The man's name is Neil and he is a musician from Toronto. He says everybody is in a reenactment all the time. If the streaming video is interrupted it's over, finale; putting in the IV will interrupt the streaming video for him.
I tried to reason with him. Local police are here, they arrived just after I did. He is sedated and the IV is in.
Back in the intern's room later I heard the young man had died. Curious.
fiction
edward w pritchard
Dr. Laura Kepis to ER. Dr. Kepis STAT, ER.
Lazily I awoke from a nine minute nap in the intern's room. Asleep in a chair these last nine minutes, it sounded like my break was over.
A late supper of lay's low fat potato chips on the run. Through the three wings between me and the ER and I am set to go again.
A male nurse met me. This patient must be a security risk, we laid off all the night shift security guards. The nurse keeps calling me Ms. Kepis. I hate that, somehow he makes it sound so condescending. I am the diminutive psychologist on staff and the nursing staff treats me like a kid.
The patient is Canadian, like me. His accent gave him away. We had an immediate rapport. He's cute too, like my high school boyfriend, Byron.
The patient says if we put an IV in his arm the streaming video will be disrupted and he will die immediately. Protocol calls for an IV in a possible concussion. He is adamant. Apparently he grabbed the RN Mrs. Johnson's arm. I don't like her either, she is such a bitch.
The man's name is Neil and he is a musician from Toronto. He says everybody is in a reenactment all the time. If the streaming video is interrupted it's over, finale; putting in the IV will interrupt the streaming video for him.
I tried to reason with him. Local police are here, they arrived just after I did. He is sedated and the IV is in.
Back in the intern's room later I heard the young man had died. Curious.
Management 101
Management 101
fiction
edward w pritchard
How to manage an inner city school:
Throw away your glasses, don't listen too carefully, stay out of the way and have a nice smile.
Keep things perfectly imperfect at all times.
fiction
edward w pritchard
How to manage an inner city school:
Throw away your glasses, don't listen too carefully, stay out of the way and have a nice smile.
Keep things perfectly imperfect at all times.
Wednesday, June 8, 2011
Still impersonating Neil Young
Still impersonating Neil Young
fiction
edward w pritchard
Still impersonating Neil Young cowgirl. Like before, 40 years ago. I grew my hair long again and I'll put on the dark glasses and tight blue jeans. I'll try not to look like Elvis Costello.
I'll put on the extended session you used to like. Cowgirl in the sand or down by the river. I remember how you use to get when Neil played. He's older too now. I am game if you are. You can back up on tambourine if you like. I still remember how to pretend like you used to like.
fiction
edward w pritchard
Still impersonating Neil Young cowgirl. Like before, 40 years ago. I grew my hair long again and I'll put on the dark glasses and tight blue jeans. I'll try not to look like Elvis Costello.
I'll put on the extended session you used to like. Cowgirl in the sand or down by the river. I remember how you use to get when Neil played. He's older too now. I am game if you are. You can back up on tambourine if you like. I still remember how to pretend like you used to like.
fortune teller
fortune teller
fiction
edward w pritchard
The plan was I would help the young couple, especially the woman bond with the new baby. I've always been able to make a little extra money telling fortunes. It's easy if I relax and just let it flow. The people will lead right along to what they want to hear about. I get a handful of marks, twenty or more and this young couple would get help with how to properly care for their new baby. They didn't know it but the Mother in law was paying me. I took five marks from them and she paid the balance of my bill.
The first visit was uneventful. There was a lot of tension between the couple but I was able to dissipate that by telling the woman that stress would keep me from being able to do my work properly. I used that first session to bond with the couple. I paid the woman a lot of compliments.
At the second meeting I got to the heart of things. What would you tell a couple who aren't getting along their future would look like in five years. I postulated that question and the man began to tell me about the Nazi party. It was his work and she didn't approve of it. It made him different she said, different than he was when she had first met him.
She is not a good German wife he said. It's not about him or her it's about the Fatherland. The baby and those to come were all that really mattered he said. Her behavior was not just hurting him or the baby. He said she had to be made to understand.
After the second session of my fortune telling I received a visit from a few members of the National socialist party. They paid me 200 marks and told me I was a good German and gave me a sign to put in my window. It would bring me a lot of business they said, and it has. Using my fortune telling skills I help couples be better parents and follow the best course to help Germany thrive. Fatherland. I understand what I am supposed to do.
fiction
edward w pritchard
The plan was I would help the young couple, especially the woman bond with the new baby. I've always been able to make a little extra money telling fortunes. It's easy if I relax and just let it flow. The people will lead right along to what they want to hear about. I get a handful of marks, twenty or more and this young couple would get help with how to properly care for their new baby. They didn't know it but the Mother in law was paying me. I took five marks from them and she paid the balance of my bill.
The first visit was uneventful. There was a lot of tension between the couple but I was able to dissipate that by telling the woman that stress would keep me from being able to do my work properly. I used that first session to bond with the couple. I paid the woman a lot of compliments.
At the second meeting I got to the heart of things. What would you tell a couple who aren't getting along their future would look like in five years. I postulated that question and the man began to tell me about the Nazi party. It was his work and she didn't approve of it. It made him different she said, different than he was when she had first met him.
She is not a good German wife he said. It's not about him or her it's about the Fatherland. The baby and those to come were all that really mattered he said. Her behavior was not just hurting him or the baby. He said she had to be made to understand.
After the second session of my fortune telling I received a visit from a few members of the National socialist party. They paid me 200 marks and told me I was a good German and gave me a sign to put in my window. It would bring me a lot of business they said, and it has. Using my fortune telling skills I help couples be better parents and follow the best course to help Germany thrive. Fatherland. I understand what I am supposed to do.
Tuesday, June 7, 2011
enlarging edifices
enlarging edifices
fiction
edward w pritchard
Enlarging edifices of enormous enterprise overwhelm the late comers. Organization, order and activity are evident. A small group starts with a vision; sometimes it's even for the common good.
Late to the party we want in. They can only sell you stock based on what they have already done. You are buying ownership in money and earnings they have already spent. The promise is implicit more great wealth will be created and you will share in it.
Hubris destroys what was created. Late to party you watch things unravel. Call it a pyramid or maturation of the enterprise by the time we get involved it's too late.
fiction
edward w pritchard
Enlarging edifices of enormous enterprise overwhelm the late comers. Organization, order and activity are evident. A small group starts with a vision; sometimes it's even for the common good.
Late to the party we want in. They can only sell you stock based on what they have already done. You are buying ownership in money and earnings they have already spent. The promise is implicit more great wealth will be created and you will share in it.
Hubris destroys what was created. Late to party you watch things unravel. Call it a pyramid or maturation of the enterprise by the time we get involved it's too late.
Monday, June 6, 2011
tomorrow belongs to me
tomorrow belongs to me
fiction
edward w pritchard
Who are they and where are they hiding? Are they our youth. Or the young somewhere else. What voice will they hear and choose to follow to bring about change?
Too many elderly here. Clinging to the past. Afraid of change. The young won't choose the existing options. Something drastic will be needed for them.
Lower your eyes. The new order isn't for you. Stay out of the way and you won't get hurt. Just don't try to stop it. Tomorrow belongs to me. Arise, Arise
fiction
edward w pritchard
Who are they and where are they hiding? Are they our youth. Or the young somewhere else. What voice will they hear and choose to follow to bring about change?
Too many elderly here. Clinging to the past. Afraid of change. The young won't choose the existing options. Something drastic will be needed for them.
Lower your eyes. The new order isn't for you. Stay out of the way and you won't get hurt. Just don't try to stop it. Tomorrow belongs to me. Arise, Arise
baptized in the Rubicon
baptized in the Rubicon
fiction
edward w pritchard
Baptized in the Rubicon, Caesar took slight pause on a fateful day in 49BC. High up, on his horse determined in his course of action, no piddling stream would stop ambitious Caesar. It was an act of insurrection, but not till later was it revealed to Caesar it was against himself. The Rubicon flowed red as Caesar looking forward, forward, left few footprints crossing that piddling tributary. Successful in the civil war that followed Caesar didn't pay with his life for losing the legal sanctity of his imperium.
Five years pass. 44 BC Caesar's third wife is having premonitions of his pending violent death. Ever the warrior Caesar plans on taking the troops East to conquer the Parthians and maybe the Dacians for greater glory. A powerful persuasive speaker by all accounts Caesar plans one more speech to pacify the Senate and then it's off again.
Marc Anthony fears. Humble and contrite fair Caesar, ambition should be made of sterner stuff.
fiction
edward w pritchard
Baptized in the Rubicon, Caesar took slight pause on a fateful day in 49BC. High up, on his horse determined in his course of action, no piddling stream would stop ambitious Caesar. It was an act of insurrection, but not till later was it revealed to Caesar it was against himself. The Rubicon flowed red as Caesar looking forward, forward, left few footprints crossing that piddling tributary. Successful in the civil war that followed Caesar didn't pay with his life for losing the legal sanctity of his imperium.
Five years pass. 44 BC Caesar's third wife is having premonitions of his pending violent death. Ever the warrior Caesar plans on taking the troops East to conquer the Parthians and maybe the Dacians for greater glory. A powerful persuasive speaker by all accounts Caesar plans one more speech to pacify the Senate and then it's off again.
Marc Anthony fears. Humble and contrite fair Caesar, ambition should be made of sterner stuff.
Sunday, June 5, 2011
stranded turtle
stranded turtle
fiction
edward w pritchard
Sunday morning, bright and early and all the people myself included are out for the weekly exercise. Marching in file along a cramped track between an old canal and a railroad track.
Several large snapping turtles choose this morning to cross the trail moving on to their secret purposes. Of course the walkers and bike riders have to poke the turtles with sticks and kick at them with their new tennis shoes; for the turtles own protection. No sadly, no turtle snapped onto anyone's finger or other appendage. Too bad they hang on till dusk you know even if you cut off the head. People interfere with the animals out of a sense of entitlement and higher purpose.
Why do the people grab the turtle and move them here and there. The turtle is just a dumb animal but it notices the people look fat and stupid; myself excluded of course.
fiction
edward w pritchard
Sunday morning, bright and early and all the people myself included are out for the weekly exercise. Marching in file along a cramped track between an old canal and a railroad track.
Several large snapping turtles choose this morning to cross the trail moving on to their secret purposes. Of course the walkers and bike riders have to poke the turtles with sticks and kick at them with their new tennis shoes; for the turtles own protection. No sadly, no turtle snapped onto anyone's finger or other appendage. Too bad they hang on till dusk you know even if you cut off the head. People interfere with the animals out of a sense of entitlement and higher purpose.
Why do the people grab the turtle and move them here and there. The turtle is just a dumb animal but it notices the people look fat and stupid; myself excluded of course.
origins of the yo yo
origins of the yo yo
fiction, fiction fiction
edward w pritchard
The Greeks may have invented the yo yo. Pythagoras may have devised the mathematical formula to enable the devise to move up and down.
Egyptians may have had a pre-Greek version of the yo yo. It is thought that once invented the toy was sealed in a tomb, vastly constructed with secret chambers, for use later elsewhere, at great expense.
Babylonians of course discovered the yo yo first, but couldn't perfect the technique. They never got beyond sitting the yo yo on a flat surface and studying it.
Modern Children world over will not touch a mechanical yo yo preferring to spend hours and hours playing the on line computer version,-- up,down.. However in Northern Iraq children often find yo yo's buried in the soil where bombs have fell and will spend hours and hours rediscovering the ancient Babylonian toy.
fiction, fiction fiction
edward w pritchard
The Greeks may have invented the yo yo. Pythagoras may have devised the mathematical formula to enable the devise to move up and down.
Egyptians may have had a pre-Greek version of the yo yo. It is thought that once invented the toy was sealed in a tomb, vastly constructed with secret chambers, for use later elsewhere, at great expense.
Babylonians of course discovered the yo yo first, but couldn't perfect the technique. They never got beyond sitting the yo yo on a flat surface and studying it.
Modern Children world over will not touch a mechanical yo yo preferring to spend hours and hours playing the on line computer version,-- up,down.. However in Northern Iraq children often find yo yo's buried in the soil where bombs have fell and will spend hours and hours rediscovering the ancient Babylonian toy.
the top of the heap
the top of the heap
fiction
edward w pritchard
To be at the top of the heap, the number one dog in the pack, the very top of the food chain was an envy-able place to find oneself. Around here to achieve celebrity status was the secret goal of everyone.
David T was a Doctor. A handsome Doctor. Urbane but approachable. He could have maybe played professional soccer, but he appropriately left that behind time proper. Not just any Doctor, pulmonary, surgery of course and specializing in care of the elderly. All the right places to be. David T also worked at a large hospital and everyone referred him work. The most difficult cases, the most lucrative cases.
Saturday night at six PM. David T Doctor raced through the halls at the hospital where he routinely practiced his specialty. It was his time to work his magic. His hands were empty. Entering the room he looked among the charts for the blue pulmonary file. Clutching the chart to his chest he took a place among the small crowd of Doctors. Heart, General Practitioner, a pretty woman psychiatrist from India, if needed, and several other specialists. All the best in their fields.
Dr.David T had an ace up his sleeve. One of his nurse assistants from his office was here to meet him. She handed Dr T the flowers for the patient.
The patient was arriving in the room. Lights were lowered. Pushed on a gurney by two attentive ambulance drivers. Dressed in expensive new hospital finery. An eighty year old woman. Not too old , still treatable, and she had a feisty look about her, she would fight to get well. The celebrity had arrived. The proper patient, highly insured, motivated to treat, at the proper place, the big city hospital, surrounded by specialists.
The Doctors in attendance began to clap. The clapping went on and on. Dr David out foxed the other specialists and handed the flowers to the old lady. She nodded at him and motioned for one of her attendant ambulance drivers to take the flowers. The other Doctors looked on with envy. Dr David T would be allowed to talk to the woman first.
The room was finally cleared, soft music played and the lights were low. Occasionally someone brought the old woman a cool drink. She had made it. Celebrity status. Fully insured, right place, right time, right circumstances. She felt like a queen sitting here as she waited for the next subject.
fiction
edward w pritchard
To be at the top of the heap, the number one dog in the pack, the very top of the food chain was an envy-able place to find oneself. Around here to achieve celebrity status was the secret goal of everyone.
David T was a Doctor. A handsome Doctor. Urbane but approachable. He could have maybe played professional soccer, but he appropriately left that behind time proper. Not just any Doctor, pulmonary, surgery of course and specializing in care of the elderly. All the right places to be. David T also worked at a large hospital and everyone referred him work. The most difficult cases, the most lucrative cases.
Saturday night at six PM. David T Doctor raced through the halls at the hospital where he routinely practiced his specialty. It was his time to work his magic. His hands were empty. Entering the room he looked among the charts for the blue pulmonary file. Clutching the chart to his chest he took a place among the small crowd of Doctors. Heart, General Practitioner, a pretty woman psychiatrist from India, if needed, and several other specialists. All the best in their fields.
Dr.David T had an ace up his sleeve. One of his nurse assistants from his office was here to meet him. She handed Dr T the flowers for the patient.
The patient was arriving in the room. Lights were lowered. Pushed on a gurney by two attentive ambulance drivers. Dressed in expensive new hospital finery. An eighty year old woman. Not too old , still treatable, and she had a feisty look about her, she would fight to get well. The celebrity had arrived. The proper patient, highly insured, motivated to treat, at the proper place, the big city hospital, surrounded by specialists.
The Doctors in attendance began to clap. The clapping went on and on. Dr David out foxed the other specialists and handed the flowers to the old lady. She nodded at him and motioned for one of her attendant ambulance drivers to take the flowers. The other Doctors looked on with envy. Dr David T would be allowed to talk to the woman first.
The room was finally cleared, soft music played and the lights were low. Occasionally someone brought the old woman a cool drink. She had made it. Celebrity status. Fully insured, right place, right time, right circumstances. She felt like a queen sitting here as she waited for the next subject.
Saturday, June 4, 2011
nicknames
nicknames
fiction
edward w pritchard
The working of the past are mysterious and unknowable. None more so than how the common good assigned nicknames to our various relatives.
First of course, those that do such things won't take the time to devise a nickname for just anyone. It takes a certain amount of notoriety and acclaim to warrant a nickname. Since they aren't written down the name must cling to stick and once attached a properly originated nickname will often outlast the life of the divisee.
Physiognomy can clap on a sobriquet. Freckles or stretch or shorty.
Often maturation wrecks a nickname, pretty girl or bubbles for example.
Adaptation of a Christian name like Buddy, B or Tukie.
How does one get boogie, or sink or watou? Those can only be changed in the army or with fame.
Unrecorded and secret nicknames are better unquestioned and not used unless familiar or at least fraternal.
fiction
edward w pritchard
The working of the past are mysterious and unknowable. None more so than how the common good assigned nicknames to our various relatives.
First of course, those that do such things won't take the time to devise a nickname for just anyone. It takes a certain amount of notoriety and acclaim to warrant a nickname. Since they aren't written down the name must cling to stick and once attached a properly originated nickname will often outlast the life of the divisee.
Physiognomy can clap on a sobriquet. Freckles or stretch or shorty.
Often maturation wrecks a nickname, pretty girl or bubbles for example.
Adaptation of a Christian name like Buddy, B or Tukie.
How does one get boogie, or sink or watou? Those can only be changed in the army or with fame.
Unrecorded and secret nicknames are better unquestioned and not used unless familiar or at least fraternal.
Jesus had a brother [ or two]
Jesus had a brother [ or two]
fiction
edward w pritchard
Jesus had a brother [or two.] That's what they say. I just heard it.I didn't know.
I know some people won't believe it, or won't like it.
Me, it's OK with me. We need more help down here. Many people here don't follow Jesus' teachings. The sermon on the mount, so difficult to put into practice. The parable of the lost sheep. Jesus didn't realize maybe how many lost sheep there really are here. It's difficult to follow Jesus teachings and instruction. Maybe his brother can help explain and help us do better.
As for Jesus' workload. I am sure Jesus could use some help. There is so much to do here. Jesus had a brother. Send him back we need the help.
end
fiction
edward w pritchard
Jesus had a brother [or two.] That's what they say. I just heard it.I didn't know.
I know some people won't believe it, or won't like it.
Me, it's OK with me. We need more help down here. Many people here don't follow Jesus' teachings. The sermon on the mount, so difficult to put into practice. The parable of the lost sheep. Jesus didn't realize maybe how many lost sheep there really are here. It's difficult to follow Jesus teachings and instruction. Maybe his brother can help explain and help us do better.
As for Jesus' workload. I am sure Jesus could use some help. There is so much to do here. Jesus had a brother. Send him back we need the help.
end
Jesus meets someone new
Jesus meets someone new
fiction
edward w pritchard
When Jesus was tired it was difficult to meet someone new. They came to be near, to hear or catch a glimpse.
A long long day. They touch his hand. Unable to stop it their essence flows into Jesus like the swirl of colors from the artist's paint pallet gobbing together. Each color is hundreds of thousands of experiences and sensations. Sometimes bumps and sometimes sharp jagged edges run into Jesus. Everything someone is is immediately revealed to Jesus. The colors snap into a sub atomic blip from then on always a part of Jesus. It's painful such revelation.
Jesus lays a hand on your shoulder and smiles sadly.
fiction
edward w pritchard
When Jesus was tired it was difficult to meet someone new. They came to be near, to hear or catch a glimpse.
A long long day. They touch his hand. Unable to stop it their essence flows into Jesus like the swirl of colors from the artist's paint pallet gobbing together. Each color is hundreds of thousands of experiences and sensations. Sometimes bumps and sometimes sharp jagged edges run into Jesus. Everything someone is is immediately revealed to Jesus. The colors snap into a sub atomic blip from then on always a part of Jesus. It's painful such revelation.
Jesus lays a hand on your shoulder and smiles sadly.
twenty five thousand restaurants and nowhere to eat
twenty five thousand restaurants and nowhere to eat
fiction
edward w pritchard
Twenty five thousand restaurants and nowhere to eat. Greater New York has restaurants. I take offense easily but where am I to eat. Alone I enter hopes high, then the waiter slights me, the waitress ignores me and the owner insults me. Day after day it's like this for me.
Maybe out in Jersey. People are better out of the City.
fiction
edward w pritchard
Twenty five thousand restaurants and nowhere to eat. Greater New York has restaurants. I take offense easily but where am I to eat. Alone I enter hopes high, then the waiter slights me, the waitress ignores me and the owner insults me. Day after day it's like this for me.
Maybe out in Jersey. People are better out of the City.
arguement
arguement
fiction
edward w pritchard
She and me. Final argument. She choose brass me plastic.
We talk of fixtures. Fixtures to swirl water down a drain. In a kitchen, fixtures to chase away the water that wasn't all used.
Brass will last, shine bright, function as intended and be there when the sink is gone. Plastic carries away the water.
Voices raised, no consensus possible, war by other means.
fiction
edward w pritchard
She and me. Final argument. She choose brass me plastic.
We talk of fixtures. Fixtures to swirl water down a drain. In a kitchen, fixtures to chase away the water that wasn't all used.
Brass will last, shine bright, function as intended and be there when the sink is gone. Plastic carries away the water.
Voices raised, no consensus possible, war by other means.
your seat awaits
your seat awaits
fiction
edward w pritchard
An old man with nothing left to say, so he sits quietly in his old chair and dies. Later, by tens of minutes a few loved ones sits around him too. Conspiracy theories on out of state radio stations finally silenced; he seems to have made his peace with the world
The funeral ambulance has stalled, the drivers reluctant for this is not a hospital, just someone's home.
Police are summoned. Situation analyzed. Pills, pills pill. Some dignity maybe but it's finally over as it is for all eventually. Family near, odd but steadfast. Convinced, the world indifferently grants it's exit.
Your seat awaits. Rest in silence fair pilgrim. Immortality is peaceful and illuminant.
fiction
edward w pritchard
An old man with nothing left to say, so he sits quietly in his old chair and dies. Later, by tens of minutes a few loved ones sits around him too. Conspiracy theories on out of state radio stations finally silenced; he seems to have made his peace with the world
The funeral ambulance has stalled, the drivers reluctant for this is not a hospital, just someone's home.
Police are summoned. Situation analyzed. Pills, pills pill. Some dignity maybe but it's finally over as it is for all eventually. Family near, odd but steadfast. Convinced, the world indifferently grants it's exit.
Your seat awaits. Rest in silence fair pilgrim. Immortality is peaceful and illuminant.
Friday, June 3, 2011
our house
our house
fiction
edward w pritchard
Our house was more a warehouse than a residence. Mother always had two or three hundred pair of blue jeans piled around that she had bought for resale when prices were right. More often than not we rented a room or two in the basement or attic to a student or a stranger for extra income. Out in yard Mother often moved around apple trees for their future value based on local supply and demand.
Time went by quickly then and our house was our primary sanctuary against the hostile world. Only Mother seemed not to notice. Sometimes one of us would drive the old truck with her when she went about her business.
fiction
edward w pritchard
Our house was more a warehouse than a residence. Mother always had two or three hundred pair of blue jeans piled around that she had bought for resale when prices were right. More often than not we rented a room or two in the basement or attic to a student or a stranger for extra income. Out in yard Mother often moved around apple trees for their future value based on local supply and demand.
Time went by quickly then and our house was our primary sanctuary against the hostile world. Only Mother seemed not to notice. Sometimes one of us would drive the old truck with her when she went about her business.
the things I owned
the things I owned
fiction
edward w pritchard
The things that I owned were organic whatever there intended use or purpose. Beautiful and intricate to look at but not durable or practical. The parts of the various apparatuses would run to one side if tilted and everything seemed to be alive. Colors were remarkable but unnecessary to the functionally of the utility of the things I owned and possessed. To make matters worse I become enamored with the beauty of the things I owned.
fiction
edward w pritchard
The things that I owned were organic whatever there intended use or purpose. Beautiful and intricate to look at but not durable or practical. The parts of the various apparatuses would run to one side if tilted and everything seemed to be alive. Colors were remarkable but unnecessary to the functionally of the utility of the things I owned and possessed. To make matters worse I become enamored with the beauty of the things I owned.
may it be behind you, Gechmis Olsen
may it be behind you
fiction
edward w pritchard
They say in Turkey " Gechmis Olsen", may it be behind you.
Eventually put it in a walnut shell. After you are well, take it out carefully. Open up your half the shell. It will be empty. No smell, no product, no nothing. Gone. Look at your hands. A light stain from handling the shell.
Walnuts were so delicious. Gone .
fiction
edward w pritchard
They say in Turkey " Gechmis Olsen", may it be behind you.
Eventually put it in a walnut shell. After you are well, take it out carefully. Open up your half the shell. It will be empty. No smell, no product, no nothing. Gone. Look at your hands. A light stain from handling the shell.
Walnuts were so delicious. Gone .
living in the land without gravity
living in the land without gravity
fiction
edward w pritchard
Living in the land without gravity all of the things began to float away. TV sets and then couches and cars, and lawn chairs and finally the bushes couldn't hold on by their roots anymore. We held on tightly with one hand as we tried to keep a hold onto things. Running here and there just trying to maintain some stability.
Not easy living in a land without gravity anymore. Sometimes it is interesting to watch things float high up in the air until they are no longer visible from where you are. Most of the time though you just have to concentrate on surviving.
fiction
edward w pritchard
Living in the land without gravity all of the things began to float away. TV sets and then couches and cars, and lawn chairs and finally the bushes couldn't hold on by their roots anymore. We held on tightly with one hand as we tried to keep a hold onto things. Running here and there just trying to maintain some stability.
Not easy living in a land without gravity anymore. Sometimes it is interesting to watch things float high up in the air until they are no longer visible from where you are. Most of the time though you just have to concentrate on surviving.
Thursday, June 2, 2011
the death of chief big foot
the death of chief Big foot
fiction
edward w pritchard
As reported elsewhere of this blog soldiers of the seventh cavalry carried Chief Big foot onto the field and shot him when he was suffering with pneumonia.
Pneumonia is debilitating. Burning deep in the chest and lungs the victim is helplessly weak. Unable to much move. The will collapses in an attempt to buy the system time for miraculous recovery. Meanwhile the body retreats into itself racked with pain and fearing death. A slow demise destroys.
First to the hunt as a boy, honored in battle as a brave and revered as a chief far and wide Chief Big Foo overcame his environment seeing himself as capable of miraculous accomplishments.
Shooting Chief Big foot ended his life a few days or weeks early. Unable to walk he was dragged by dogs on an Indian travois to the soldiers hospital. Sadly he lay dead on the battle field frozen until someone took his picture un-regal in death.
Morn Chief Big Foot, no way for a soldier to die.
fiction
edward w pritchard
As reported elsewhere of this blog soldiers of the seventh cavalry carried Chief Big foot onto the field and shot him when he was suffering with pneumonia.
Pneumonia is debilitating. Burning deep in the chest and lungs the victim is helplessly weak. Unable to much move. The will collapses in an attempt to buy the system time for miraculous recovery. Meanwhile the body retreats into itself racked with pain and fearing death. A slow demise destroys.
First to the hunt as a boy, honored in battle as a brave and revered as a chief far and wide Chief Big Foo overcame his environment seeing himself as capable of miraculous accomplishments.
Shooting Chief Big foot ended his life a few days or weeks early. Unable to walk he was dragged by dogs on an Indian travois to the soldiers hospital. Sadly he lay dead on the battle field frozen until someone took his picture un-regal in death.
Morn Chief Big Foot, no way for a soldier to die.
b unit, impersonating the enemy
b unit, impersonating the enemy
fiction
edward w pritchard
We played the b unit impersonating the enemy, the team we were to play on the football field the coming Saturday. The offense ran their plays and we took the names and personas of a few of the stars of our cross town rivals.
One of my team mates since grade school was all State, I forget if first team. The play was called the pass was thrown and another friend, with me on the b unit jumped up and stole the pass from our star athlete. Very unusual for the interceptor by now knew his place in the world, the pecking order was set and mostly he drifted along although still on the team. Him doing his part no matter how small, b team impersonating our enemy each week.
It was nearly dark practice nearly over and the interceptor shouted our secret password as he jumped and grabbed the ball. We rushed to block quickly switching defense to offense as we charged forward. Our offensiveness first unit didn't pursue. Coaches whistles blew but we ran clear to the end of the practice field.
Frozen in time my friend always intercepts that pass. Sometimes months or years go by and I don't remember. But, then there it is pounding charging feet as we rush down the dusty dark field.
fiction
edward w pritchard
We played the b unit impersonating the enemy, the team we were to play on the football field the coming Saturday. The offense ran their plays and we took the names and personas of a few of the stars of our cross town rivals.
One of my team mates since grade school was all State, I forget if first team. The play was called the pass was thrown and another friend, with me on the b unit jumped up and stole the pass from our star athlete. Very unusual for the interceptor by now knew his place in the world, the pecking order was set and mostly he drifted along although still on the team. Him doing his part no matter how small, b team impersonating our enemy each week.
It was nearly dark practice nearly over and the interceptor shouted our secret password as he jumped and grabbed the ball. We rushed to block quickly switching defense to offense as we charged forward. Our offensiveness first unit didn't pursue. Coaches whistles blew but we ran clear to the end of the practice field.
Frozen in time my friend always intercepts that pass. Sometimes months or years go by and I don't remember. But, then there it is pounding charging feet as we rush down the dusty dark field.
soldier-draft 1
soldier-draft one
fiction
edward w pritchard
Me a soldier more than anything I wish to die in battle or like my hero Vincent Van Gogh go crazy. No such luck, I have survived over a dozen fierce battles and engagements. Early on when our blitzkrieg was remarkably successful I would not have been surprised to be unscathed but now the war goes badly and still I thrive as a soldier. I hate what we do but I fight and do my duty not to Fatherland but to my unit. I am not of the party but I fight on although the goals not be mine.
My Father himself will not hear me when I explain the Nazi machine. He is Prussian through and through, still quoting Hegel when he doesn't have a mouthful of platitudes. His wars were brutal yes, but not unspeakable, even to a fellow soldier. I cannot speak to him of ordinary things we do and I cannot think even to myself what I have witnessed. In spite of that my mind is clear; each morning I awake and I prepare for the days actions and encounters. Military life is easy for me though I hate it and hate myself for being part of.
I am as a cog in a machine, one piece in the military system of weapons and technology. I am not permitted to not function at peak capacity. I also cannot allow myself to quit, run or injure or terminate myself. My mind will not fracture or dis-join. My logic is clear and worse my luck is remarkable. Each day I wake and prepare dutifully for today's battles despite my conscious.
end
fiction
edward w pritchard
Me a soldier more than anything I wish to die in battle or like my hero Vincent Van Gogh go crazy. No such luck, I have survived over a dozen fierce battles and engagements. Early on when our blitzkrieg was remarkably successful I would not have been surprised to be unscathed but now the war goes badly and still I thrive as a soldier. I hate what we do but I fight and do my duty not to Fatherland but to my unit. I am not of the party but I fight on although the goals not be mine.
My Father himself will not hear me when I explain the Nazi machine. He is Prussian through and through, still quoting Hegel when he doesn't have a mouthful of platitudes. His wars were brutal yes, but not unspeakable, even to a fellow soldier. I cannot speak to him of ordinary things we do and I cannot think even to myself what I have witnessed. In spite of that my mind is clear; each morning I awake and I prepare for the days actions and encounters. Military life is easy for me though I hate it and hate myself for being part of.
I am as a cog in a machine, one piece in the military system of weapons and technology. I am not permitted to not function at peak capacity. I also cannot allow myself to quit, run or injure or terminate myself. My mind will not fracture or dis-join. My logic is clear and worse my luck is remarkable. Each day I wake and prepare dutifully for today's battles despite my conscious.
end
goal post
goal post
fiction
edward w pritchard
The old goal post, oddly engineered, solitary, just one stands anymore. Where was it's mate back on the corner of the old playground?
Where are the crowds, where are the cheers, where are the celebrating triumphant Saturday heroes. Strong in disuse one old goal post stands rusting, solitary, silent.
fiction
edward w pritchard
The old goal post, oddly engineered, solitary, just one stands anymore. Where was it's mate back on the corner of the old playground?
Where are the crowds, where are the cheers, where are the celebrating triumphant Saturday heroes. Strong in disuse one old goal post stands rusting, solitary, silent.
high up over nine thousand feet it's different
high up over nine thousand feet it's different
fiction
edward w pritchard
fiction
edward w pritchard
High up over nine thousand feet it's different. The altitude was effecting her she was having trouble breathing and was unusually tired and had frequent headaches. After mild excursion she was in need of a nap and at night she went to bed early and slept late in the morning; to nearly seven o'clock. The linkage was changed for this trip and things were again equal because of the cool crisp thin mountain air.
Maybe it happened or maybe it didn't but for this trip high up over nine thousand feet it's different. We got along for a few days although underneath something was still remiss. At night the stars seemed closer and one's dreams were less disturbing. Still, in spite of the altitude what a drag these things could be.
end
fiction
edward w pritchard
fiction
edward w pritchard
High up over nine thousand feet it's different. The altitude was effecting her she was having trouble breathing and was unusually tired and had frequent headaches. After mild excursion she was in need of a nap and at night she went to bed early and slept late in the morning; to nearly seven o'clock. The linkage was changed for this trip and things were again equal because of the cool crisp thin mountain air.
Maybe it happened or maybe it didn't but for this trip high up over nine thousand feet it's different. We got along for a few days although underneath something was still remiss. At night the stars seemed closer and one's dreams were less disturbing. Still, in spite of the altitude what a drag these things could be.
end
Wednesday, June 1, 2011
marvella joins a team- act 2 scene 2 edit 1
Marvella joins a team- act 2 scene 2 edit 1
fiction
edward w pritchard
The Meeting
The house is so small that the meeting was moved to the deck over looking the small back yard. People in the group move in and out of the deck doors bringing food, wine or beer. Eventually however, the group of five get down to business and the conversation gets around to bond trading and the yield on the ten year US treasury bond.
Current rates on the ten year bond is a yield of 2.92 per cent. In a few days trading on the 10 year bond will be stopped for a few hours and a new rate will be set by the IMF by fiat. Technically reminds Tony, the market will anticipate the effect of the bond trading stoppage and the market will attempt to anticipate the new rate. The group must try to judge the new rate and then speculate on the change in rate from the existing rate at the time the market closes.
end act 2 scene 2 draft 1
fiction
edward w pritchard
The Meeting
The house is so small that the meeting was moved to the deck over looking the small back yard. People in the group move in and out of the deck doors bringing food, wine or beer. Eventually however, the group of five get down to business and the conversation gets around to bond trading and the yield on the ten year US treasury bond.
Current rates on the ten year bond is a yield of 2.92 per cent. In a few days trading on the 10 year bond will be stopped for a few hours and a new rate will be set by the IMF by fiat. Technically reminds Tony, the market will anticipate the effect of the bond trading stoppage and the market will attempt to anticipate the new rate. The group must try to judge the new rate and then speculate on the change in rate from the existing rate at the time the market closes.
end act 2 scene 2 draft 1
far, far far away it's different
far, far far away it's different
fiction
edward w pritchard
Far, far far away it's different.
Another galaxy, related to our own was found.
Astronomers have released what they say is the best-yet picture of NGC 6744, a spiral galaxy described as a "sibling" of our own Milky Way. quote internet yahoo
What changes would we make if we could wish a different existence for life there. Less suffering. Just less awareness. Longer life. No life to begin with. Less complication. Why do we humans contemplate that new discovery and no other species on earth seem to do so? If one believes in Darwin does that make sense? If one believes in one of the various metaphysical theories how can one begin to understand the vast scope of existence.
I accept on faith that scientists really found our sibling galaxy. Meanwhile it's morning and the gentle struggle for existence right here begins anew. Think hard and clearly, logically. Does anything reasonably explain existence. How can such vast distances exist. Why? Copernicus, what would you say if you lived now, or St Paul, or St Thomas Aquinas or a very old Edwin Hubble
fiction
edward w pritchard
Far, far far away it's different.
Another galaxy, related to our own was found.
Astronomers have released what they say is the best-yet picture of NGC 6744, a spiral galaxy described as a "sibling" of our own Milky Way. quote internet yahoo
What changes would we make if we could wish a different existence for life there. Less suffering. Just less awareness. Longer life. No life to begin with. Less complication. Why do we humans contemplate that new discovery and no other species on earth seem to do so? If one believes in Darwin does that make sense? If one believes in one of the various metaphysical theories how can one begin to understand the vast scope of existence.
I accept on faith that scientists really found our sibling galaxy. Meanwhile it's morning and the gentle struggle for existence right here begins anew. Think hard and clearly, logically. Does anything reasonably explain existence. How can such vast distances exist. Why? Copernicus, what would you say if you lived now, or St Paul, or St Thomas Aquinas or a very old Edwin Hubble
Summer rerun
Summer rerun
fiction
edward w prritchard
Here's something I wrote before and a comment or two at the end
fiction
edward w prritchard
Here's something I wrote before and a comment or two at the end
adbright
Sunday, August 1, 2010
america's not great britain-chelsea clinton's wedding
america's not great britain--chelsea clinton's wedding
fiction
edward w pritchard
Since the Mayflower days America's been struggling to live up to the pomp and cultural heritage of Great Britain. While we look across our noses at their fascination with royalty and we favorably compare Harvard and Princeton with Oxford and Cambridge; in truth we American's secretly envy and are in a little awe of the British cultural Heritage. True Faulkner and Melville were great writers but English words flow from Britain's great writers seemingly effortlessly, Tennyson, Shakespeare and a slew of others will overwhelm the American reader with routine flashes of divine inspiration cutting,inserting, and refining English words to define our cultures peculiarities.
Now I see the American marketing industry, of which we are the undisputed best in the world, now and before, is trying to present the wedding of Ex-President Clinton's daughter as a Princess Diana type tale and romance.
The Clinton's seem like the family down the street to me. With all due respect their melodrama is all too familiar and if I were to meet the Mr. or Mrs at the gym while I would nod respectfully they wouldn't seem all that different than me and my neighbors. More intelligent maybe but both human all to human.
I am curious to see if the American marketing machine pulls this off and is able to day by day promote Chelsey Clinton's wedding as a fabled romance.
fiction
edward w pritchard
Since the Mayflower days America's been struggling to live up to the pomp and cultural heritage of Great Britain. While we look across our noses at their fascination with royalty and we favorably compare Harvard and Princeton with Oxford and Cambridge; in truth we American's secretly envy and are in a little awe of the British cultural Heritage. True Faulkner and Melville were great writers but English words flow from Britain's great writers seemingly effortlessly, Tennyson, Shakespeare and a slew of others will overwhelm the American reader with routine flashes of divine inspiration cutting,inserting, and refining English words to define our cultures peculiarities.
Now I see the American marketing industry, of which we are the undisputed best in the world, now and before, is trying to present the wedding of Ex-President Clinton's daughter as a Princess Diana type tale and romance.
The Clinton's seem like the family down the street to me. With all due respect their melodrama is all too familiar and if I were to meet the Mr. or Mrs at the gym while I would nod respectfully they wouldn't seem all that different than me and my neighbors. More intelligent maybe but both human all to human.
I am curious to see if the American marketing machine pulls this off and is able to day by day promote Chelsey Clinton's wedding as a fabled romance.
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