Our death; the end of the line for us/ repost, edit 1
fiction
edward w pritchard
Once we played in the band and others jostled to hear us play and to see us in our bright new band uniforms.
Now at the end of life for us, marching far up over the hill,
the music we played is barely heard, the music of life fades as we leave those we loved behind on our journey.
Look at your legs? Do you still wear the striped band pants?
Does your head still wear the high hat?
The music you played during your life was sweet while it lasted. Now the music sinks, waves of noise that come and go but no one can hear the music you make.
Concentrate on the crunch of your feet in the gravel as you march,
struggling to get up over the steep hill.
It's the end of the line for you. Your life is over.
There is a forgetting for you. How did you get here? You are at a small train station.
At the end of the line we are standing at a small train station with a bag or two. The train we rode in on rumbles as it continues on its way, full of passengers, going on with it's run.
It's the end of the line for us. We won't be continuing life's journey.
We stand at the station not sure where to go and slowly the realization comes that it's the end of the line for us. Maybe we watch the train head off down the tracks before we reach for our bags. Maybe we look one last time back up the tracks to where the train came from.
Everyone likes to listen to the sound of train whistle for as long as it's audible when it's the end of the line for us.
When it's the end of the line for us we stand silently at the station straining our senses to hear the sound of the train whistle that bought us here moaning off into perpetuity.
Saturday, August 25, 2012
cease winds/ repost, edit 1
cease winds/ repost, edit 1
fiction
edward w pritchard
Cease raging winds, cease.
Go away violent winds;
forgotten, rest unseen.
Order will return here.
Chaos conquered, chaos forgotten.
Comfort and stability welcome and expected .
Calm prevailing again.
fiction
edward w pritchard
Cease raging winds, cease.
Go away violent winds;
forgotten, rest unseen.
Order will return here.
Chaos conquered, chaos forgotten.
Comfort and stability welcome and expected .
Calm prevailing again.
Listen, silence is in the air.
Friday, August 24, 2012
Duane Allman, the "skydog" speaks out about the war in Syria/ political message 1
Duane Allman, the "skydog" speaks out about against the war in Syria/ political message 1
author is listening to you tube Allman Brothers Band - Syria Mosque - Pittsburgh, Pa. January 17, 1971 as he writes this.
fiction
edward w pritchard
Great guitar playing is an end in itself; an artist like the deceased Duane Allman doesn't have to have a message in his music. Being a great blues guitar artist is enough. Duane may you rest in peace. Duane Allman was killed in a head on motorcycle accident in 1971.
That same year earlier in 1971 Duane Allman and the Allman brothers band played a concert in the Syrian Mosque a music theatre in Pittsburgh Pa.
Duane was a superlative guitar player, one of the few bests of all time. Duane revitalized the music of Derek and the Dominoes; Duane Allman and Eric Clapton may be the best guitar playing duo ever on the Layla album.
Now Duane is dead and we don't expect him to have a message in his music. But, if Duane did have a political message in his music, and if Duane Allman did want to play again at the Syrian mosque in Pittsburgh, Pa, and if he did find out that in 1991 the music theatre, the Pittsburgh Pa Syrian Mosque had been torn down and made into a parking lot, then Duane Allman if he was to want to play "Lend Me a Dime" again or "Why does love have to be so sad" might have to go to the real county of Syria right here and now to play.
If he did want to go to war torn Syria to play, right now even though he was dead, Duane Allman might say" Stop the war in Syria today'.
Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania
Syrian Mosque
Music Theatre
end
author is listening to you tube Allman Brothers Band - Syria Mosque - Pittsburgh, Pa. January 17, 1971 as he writes this.
fiction
edward w pritchard
Great guitar playing is an end in itself; an artist like the deceased Duane Allman doesn't have to have a message in his music. Being a great blues guitar artist is enough. Duane may you rest in peace. Duane Allman was killed in a head on motorcycle accident in 1971.
That same year earlier in 1971 Duane Allman and the Allman brothers band played a concert in the Syrian Mosque a music theatre in Pittsburgh Pa.
Duane was a superlative guitar player, one of the few bests of all time. Duane revitalized the music of Derek and the Dominoes; Duane Allman and Eric Clapton may be the best guitar playing duo ever on the Layla album.
Now Duane is dead and we don't expect him to have a message in his music. But, if Duane did have a political message in his music, and if Duane Allman did want to play again at the Syrian mosque in Pittsburgh, Pa, and if he did find out that in 1991 the music theatre, the Pittsburgh Pa Syrian Mosque had been torn down and made into a parking lot, then Duane Allman if he was to want to play "Lend Me a Dime" again or "Why does love have to be so sad" might have to go to the real county of Syria right here and now to play.
If he did want to go to war torn Syria to play, right now even though he was dead, Duane Allman might say" Stop the war in Syria today'.
- Great deceased guitar Duane Allman player says " Stop the war in Syria today" Duane says to the soldiers fighting in Syria " I've been Run down, I've been lied to;
Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania
Syrian Mosque
Music Theatre
God, Time and Vincent Van Gogh/draft 1
God, Time and Vincent Van Gogh
fiction
edward w pritchard
What if God alone while Vincent Van Gogh lived recognized the painter's unique talent? A talent of one in ten billion.
What if God himself couldn't do whatever he wanted; what if God had to follow certain rules of Determinism. What if one of those rules was that Vincent Van Gogh would only paint for a brief moment and then be permanently gone.
What if in all humanity only Vincent could see the magnificent landscape of the world as God saw it. What if more than anything God wanted a permanent record on canvass of the landscape of his creation.
Could God wait patiently for the next Vincent Van Gogh's brief existence?
fiction
edward w pritchard
What if God alone while Vincent Van Gogh lived recognized the painter's unique talent? A talent of one in ten billion.
What if God himself couldn't do whatever he wanted; what if God had to follow certain rules of Determinism. What if one of those rules was that Vincent Van Gogh would only paint for a brief moment and then be permanently gone.
What if in all humanity only Vincent could see the magnificent landscape of the world as God saw it. What if more than anything God wanted a permanent record on canvass of the landscape of his creation.
Alone in the Dark/ repost
alone in the dark
Fill our cave with candles,
light a bonfire outside the entrance, to guide you home.
I don't want to be alone in the dark.
I'll sit quietly on our cave's floor,
among the stalagmites and listen for the echo of your voice
bouncing off the moon if you call to me.
Let the moon reflect in small puddles of water
formed drop by drop from the stalactites
weeping and hoping for your return.
I'll lay quietly here in the dark alone
until the stalagmites and stalactites meet again.
alone in the dark/ edit 1
fiction
edward w pritchard
Our cave is empty now.
fiction
edward w pritchard
Our cave is empty now.
Fill our cave with candles,
light a bonfire outside the entrance, to guide you home.
I don't want to be alone in the dark.
I'll sit quietly on our cave's floor,
among the stalagmites and listen for the echo of your voice
bouncing off the moon if you call to me.
Let the moon reflect in small puddles of water
formed drop by drop from the stalactites
weeping and hoping for your return.
I'll lay quietly here in the dark alone
until the stalagmites and stalactites meet again.
Our Cave is empty now;
I'll abide in the dark waving a flickering candle.
I'll abide in the dark waving a flickering candle.
Thursday, August 23, 2012
Dreaming things are out of control; ten thousand nights without decent brakes/ repost and edit
Dreaming things are out of control; ten thousand nights without decent brakes/ repost and edit
fiction
edward w pritchard
Come sit next to me in the truck.
I always drive in my dreams,
careening around corners and down steep hills,
past all the places I used to be.
Speeding very fast through narrow streets and passage ways;
somehow each night the brakes miraculously manage to work,
no pedestrians get hit and we stop just in time.
Still it's nerve wracking, out of control with badly worn brakes,
That's the point of my dream I guess.
One day, when I am awake I will take control.
I will go find that truck of my dreams and fix those brakes.
Thereafter I will manage the breaks in my life.
For now though, please sit close to me in my dreams;
it's so much better when you are near.
end
fiction
edward w pritchard
[In my dreams:]
Ten thousand nights, driving a truck without decent brakes.
Ten thousand nights, driving a truck without decent brakes.
Come sit next to me in the truck.
I always drive in my dreams,
careening around corners and down steep hills,
past all the places I used to be.
Speeding very fast through narrow streets and passage ways;
somehow each night the brakes miraculously manage to work,
no pedestrians get hit and we stop just in time.
Still it's nerve wracking, out of control with badly worn brakes,
driving a plunging truck downhill.
That's the point of my dream I guess.
One day, when I am awake I will take control.
I will go find that truck of my dreams and fix those brakes.
Thereafter I will manage the breaks in my life.
For now though, please sit close to me in my dreams;
it's so much better when you are near.
end
Frank and Joe Hardy plan to kill their friend Chet Morton/ edit 1 reposted
Frank and Joe Hardy plan to kill their friend Chet Morton/ edit 1 reposted
fiction
edward w pritchard
the following is a brief critical analysis of a certain genre of stories for boys, names and relationship are used solely as example, for literary criticism, author loved these stories as a boy.
Frank and Joe Hardy were planning how to kill their school chums. Working feverishly in the 3rd floor kitchen/ secret laboratory/ crime lab, over the garage behind the house, and consulting their father's, the internationally known chef, Lorenzo's famous secret cook book/ detective casebook, they planned revenge on the fat man, Chet Morton for going too far and his sneaky friend Italian Tony as well.
Chet had plans of his own. He and Tony swam underwater and entered Frank and Joe's affluent families mausoleum/boathouse and working in the freezing water began to remove most of the screws and nails holding the high powered speed boat, the Sleuth, together. Chuckling as he worked the good natured but fiendish Chet thought back on all the insults the two Hardy hooligans had laid on him. Many times his strong arms had saved those two when one or the other toppled over the stair rail into space but still they continued to dis- him. Let them try to race in this boat now, the "Sleuth" will disintegrate in mid race, Tony thought and laughed demonically as Italian's were wont to do especially, when working underwater.
Joe added the fifth layer of high calorie icing to the fat kids surprise cake and wondered how many slices it would take to kill the fiendish joker Chet Morton of hyper tension. No matter fat Chet would eat all the cake as usual. Hurry Joe, Frank exclaimed, we have to get to the boathouse before we go to the caves, and then to the old mill Frank vociferated, and then to the underground reservoir to find poison mushrooms for Chet's soup, Frank yelped.
Chet and Tony's work was finished so Chet wrapped a large fish in Frank's Bayport high football Jersey and headed for the high school in his prized jalopy the Queen, even though it had no transmission or rear wheels because it was as usual "all over the garage". As he drove Chet noticed proudly all the real estate for sale signs in the neatly manicured yards about Bayport that bore his Father's, the real estate broker's moniker. Maybe his Dad could get him a deal on plots for Frank and Joe to be buried in after he killed them, Chet thought.
Joe and Frank likewise headed for the high school with the cake for their obese chum. Joe carried the cake and Frank grabbed a shotgun to shoot Chet and Tony with in case their overly elaborate plan with the cake didn't work. Both drove a high powered motorcycle with one hand, Joe carrying a cake and Frank a shotgun, and so they waved only briefly to their favorite two chicks, pretty but demur Iola, Chet's sister, and the other girl Callie, Frank's chick,who were walking along the roadway, and taking chicken soup to a poor but deserving elderly citizen. They also saw a third older woman Aunt Gertrude heading out to meet the truck drivers at the truck stop. As they rode background music played easy rider.
As he rode along the shore road, Joe's cell rang and it was his dutiful and diminutive Mother, Laura Hardy reminding the lads that a delicious dinner would be late because their Father Lorenzo had been kidnapped again. Driving along, Joe said to Frank, its neat we got these motorcycles for coming up with a cure for cancer.
Riding serenely along looking out at the gentle green ocean both chaps agreed that life was grand here in Bayport and life here somewhere on the Atlantic Ocean, and sometime in the past, was as it always should be.
end
fiction
edward w pritchard
the following is a brief critical analysis of a certain genre of stories for boys, names and relationship are used solely as example, for literary criticism, author loved these stories as a boy.
Frank and Joe Hardy were planning how to kill their school chums. Working feverishly in the 3rd floor kitchen/ secret laboratory/ crime lab, over the garage behind the house, and consulting their father's, the internationally known chef, Lorenzo's famous secret cook book/ detective casebook, they planned revenge on the fat man, Chet Morton for going too far and his sneaky friend Italian Tony as well.
Chet had plans of his own. He and Tony swam underwater and entered Frank and Joe's affluent families mausoleum/boathouse and working in the freezing water began to remove most of the screws and nails holding the high powered speed boat, the Sleuth, together. Chuckling as he worked the good natured but fiendish Chet thought back on all the insults the two Hardy hooligans had laid on him. Many times his strong arms had saved those two when one or the other toppled over the stair rail into space but still they continued to dis- him. Let them try to race in this boat now, the "Sleuth" will disintegrate in mid race, Tony thought and laughed demonically as Italian's were wont to do especially, when working underwater.
Joe added the fifth layer of high calorie icing to the fat kids surprise cake and wondered how many slices it would take to kill the fiendish joker Chet Morton of hyper tension. No matter fat Chet would eat all the cake as usual. Hurry Joe, Frank exclaimed, we have to get to the boathouse before we go to the caves, and then to the old mill Frank vociferated, and then to the underground reservoir to find poison mushrooms for Chet's soup, Frank yelped.
Chet and Tony's work was finished so Chet wrapped a large fish in Frank's Bayport high football Jersey and headed for the high school in his prized jalopy the Queen, even though it had no transmission or rear wheels because it was as usual "all over the garage". As he drove Chet noticed proudly all the real estate for sale signs in the neatly manicured yards about Bayport that bore his Father's, the real estate broker's moniker. Maybe his Dad could get him a deal on plots for Frank and Joe to be buried in after he killed them, Chet thought.
Joe and Frank likewise headed for the high school with the cake for their obese chum. Joe carried the cake and Frank grabbed a shotgun to shoot Chet and Tony with in case their overly elaborate plan with the cake didn't work. Both drove a high powered motorcycle with one hand, Joe carrying a cake and Frank a shotgun, and so they waved only briefly to their favorite two chicks, pretty but demur Iola, Chet's sister, and the other girl Callie, Frank's chick,who were walking along the roadway, and taking chicken soup to a poor but deserving elderly citizen. They also saw a third older woman Aunt Gertrude heading out to meet the truck drivers at the truck stop. As they rode background music played easy rider.
As he rode along the shore road, Joe's cell rang and it was his dutiful and diminutive Mother, Laura Hardy reminding the lads that a delicious dinner would be late because their Father Lorenzo had been kidnapped again. Driving along, Joe said to Frank, its neat we got these motorcycles for coming up with a cure for cancer.
Riding serenely along looking out at the gentle green ocean both chaps agreed that life was grand here in Bayport and life here somewhere on the Atlantic Ocean, and sometime in the past, was as it always should be.
end
spaghetti a la mackerel
spaghetti a la mackerel
fiction
edward w pritchard
A recipe to delight on a budget
ingredients:
one can low cost mackerel
three ounces per serving angel hair pasta
one low cost canned enchilada sauce
diced onions, garlic or parsley if available
Cook spaghetti, while hot add half can mackerel, top with enchilada sauce and Parmesan cheese if available.
A very healthy low cost meal.
This is a dish best enjoyed alone. Not recommended for guests.
end
fiction
edward w pritchard
A recipe to delight on a budget
ingredients:
one can low cost mackerel
three ounces per serving angel hair pasta
one low cost canned enchilada sauce
diced onions, garlic or parsley if available
Cook spaghetti, while hot add half can mackerel, top with enchilada sauce and Parmesan cheese if available.
A very healthy low cost meal.
This is a dish best enjoyed alone. Not recommended for guests.
end
Pensee, vindictive
Pensee, vindictive
fiction
edward w pritchard
One thousand injuries I endured, patiently, without external disruption. However, insult I took to six light words.
The embers of vindication endure long after the injuries are scarred over. A slight breeze from the lips of six mal-placed words shake them a blaze.
fiction
edward w pritchard
One thousand injuries I endured, patiently, without external disruption. However, insult I took to six light words.
The embers of vindication endure long after the injuries are scarred over. A slight breeze from the lips of six mal-placed words shake them a blaze.
main belt; two year job beween Mars and Jupiter part 4/draft 1
main belt; two year job beween Mars and Jupiter part 4/ draft 1
fiction
edward w pritchard
I won't start in the middle in my story about my love affair with Priscilla. It's not an epic; it's just a sad little romance that ended badly for me. Why do we ever start these things?
The end of my story with Priscilla is here at Space Central just past Mars, the largest city outside of home planet, Earth. Twenty five hundred permanent inhabitants and at any point in time another thousand explorers headed to Jupiter and beyond. A few temporary inhabitants are headed back to earth and one of them is my girl Priscilla. She is going without me, by choice and I am searching for her across the four immense decks of Space Central. She turned off her transmission device and her homing device to avoid me.
Deck three is a middle eastern type Souk. The trading center for space employees headed out into space. It's like a tacky mall on earth. To simulate the effect of a souk it is dark and crowded and there are many narrow halls and alleyways. I have been walking everywhere to find Priscilla; I need to tell her about the dream I had last night.
No space suits or oxygen are needed at space central, but I could use some oxygen today, I am not use to walking this much. I had such a troubling dream last night, it's got me disoriented.
The new space explorers heading out are flush with cash. The merchants are skillful in their technique. Why wouldn't someone want to buy a Swiss army knife to take to Neptune? Of course it costs more up here, this isn't earth. The bargaining saddens me.
Priscilla leaves for Earth tomorrow. I don't have clearance to go to home port to see her there. She doesn't want to see me again anyway, she has moved on. I still have seven more months on my two year job as a astroid technican destroying rocks between Mars and Jupiter. It's imparative that I find Priscilla here at Space Central and tell her about my dream last night. Only she would understand the nuances of my dreams.
Why do we start these love affairs in the first place?
end
fiction
edward w pritchard
I won't start in the middle in my story about my love affair with Priscilla. It's not an epic; it's just a sad little romance that ended badly for me. Why do we ever start these things?
The end of my story with Priscilla is here at Space Central just past Mars, the largest city outside of home planet, Earth. Twenty five hundred permanent inhabitants and at any point in time another thousand explorers headed to Jupiter and beyond. A few temporary inhabitants are headed back to earth and one of them is my girl Priscilla. She is going without me, by choice and I am searching for her across the four immense decks of Space Central. She turned off her transmission device and her homing device to avoid me.
Deck three is a middle eastern type Souk. The trading center for space employees headed out into space. It's like a tacky mall on earth. To simulate the effect of a souk it is dark and crowded and there are many narrow halls and alleyways. I have been walking everywhere to find Priscilla; I need to tell her about the dream I had last night.
No space suits or oxygen are needed at space central, but I could use some oxygen today, I am not use to walking this much. I had such a troubling dream last night, it's got me disoriented.
The new space explorers heading out are flush with cash. The merchants are skillful in their technique. Why wouldn't someone want to buy a Swiss army knife to take to Neptune? Of course it costs more up here, this isn't earth. The bargaining saddens me.
Priscilla leaves for Earth tomorrow. I don't have clearance to go to home port to see her there. She doesn't want to see me again anyway, she has moved on. I still have seven more months on my two year job as a astroid technican destroying rocks between Mars and Jupiter. It's imparative that I find Priscilla here at Space Central and tell her about my dream last night. Only she would understand the nuances of my dreams.
Why do we start these love affairs in the first place?
end
Wednesday, August 22, 2012
main belt: two year job between Mars and Jupiter/ part 3
main belt: two year job between Mars and Jupiter/ part 3
fiction
edward w pritchard
It's not surprising that the new girl would be beautiful. She is a graduate of space engineering school at New York University; only the best, brightest and most beautiful if you are a woman get admitted.
What is surprising is that the my new ranking officer would be not just beautiful but would know all the Ray Bradbury Martian Chronicles Stories. My dad used to tell me those stories when I was a kid. Now I have a real advantage in courting Priscilla, the new space engineer. There are a lot of men up here between Mars and Jupiter in the main belt and since I plan to fall in Love with Priscilla it gives me an edge on the other guys here that her and I both know the Ray Bradbury Martian stories.
Since she is new I won't tell her that all of Bradbury's stories that I loved as a kid are a pile of crap. Mars is always the next best thing, always up and coming. I'll let Priscilla find that out for herself. For now I will tell her all the Bradbury stories I remember from my Dad's childhood. Before scientist really knew anything factual about Mars. Bradbury made Mars a place for humans to escape to before they blew up the earth.
Well it's spring up here between Mars and Jupiter in the main belt where we destroy asteroids bound for Earth or other strategic places to humans. Spring means romance, even here in Space. While I wait to introduce you to Priscilla, here is a another story about romance on Mars in spring by the same Author as this story.
See below
fiction
edward w pritchard
Subtle are seasons in space but with time us stationed there get into the rhythm of nature and are able to adapt to the faint differences between seasons on the various planets in the solar system. Over time as a veteran explorer of the inner planets of the solar system I was able to enjoy the particularities of spring on Jupiter and Mars.
Mars is cold and solid. Jupiter is a gaseous planet and there is lots of activity at the surface. From the moons of Jupiter, especially on Io the closest moon, spring is a welcome time near Jupiter.
I was stationed on Io as a space bulldozer driver when Spring effected me in year of 2034. As men are wont to do in spring, even in space, I met a girl that Spring on Io and my life changed because of it.
end
fiction
edward w pritchard
It's not surprising that the new girl would be beautiful. She is a graduate of space engineering school at New York University; only the best, brightest and most beautiful if you are a woman get admitted.
What is surprising is that the my new ranking officer would be not just beautiful but would know all the Ray Bradbury Martian Chronicles Stories. My dad used to tell me those stories when I was a kid. Now I have a real advantage in courting Priscilla, the new space engineer. There are a lot of men up here between Mars and Jupiter in the main belt and since I plan to fall in Love with Priscilla it gives me an edge on the other guys here that her and I both know the Ray Bradbury Martian stories.
Since she is new I won't tell her that all of Bradbury's stories that I loved as a kid are a pile of crap. Mars is always the next best thing, always up and coming. I'll let Priscilla find that out for herself. For now I will tell her all the Bradbury stories I remember from my Dad's childhood. Before scientist really knew anything factual about Mars. Bradbury made Mars a place for humans to escape to before they blew up the earth.
Well it's spring up here between Mars and Jupiter in the main belt where we destroy asteroids bound for Earth or other strategic places to humans. Spring means romance, even here in Space. While I wait to introduce you to Priscilla, here is a another story about romance on Mars in spring by the same Author as this story.
See below
Wednesday, March 16, 2011
spring on Jupiter and Mars
spring on Jupiter and Mars
see ten year sentence, Willie Tucker's blues 06/08/10 and Two minutes until I die march 2011 blog
edit and merge all
see ten year sentence, Willie Tucker's blues 06/08/10 and Two minutes until I die march 2011 blog
edit and merge all
fiction
edward w pritchard
Subtle are seasons in space but with time us stationed there get into the rhythm of nature and are able to adapt to the faint differences between seasons on the various planets in the solar system. Over time as a veteran explorer of the inner planets of the solar system I was able to enjoy the particularities of spring on Jupiter and Mars.
Mars is cold and solid. Jupiter is a gaseous planet and there is lots of activity at the surface. From the moons of Jupiter, especially on Io the closest moon, spring is a welcome time near Jupiter.
I was stationed on Io as a space bulldozer driver when Spring effected me in year of 2034. As men are wont to do in spring, even in space, I met a girl that Spring on Io and my life changed because of it.
end
an unusual, usual girl, shopping at the Goodwill at closing time
an unusual, usual girl, shopping at he Goodwill at closing time
fiction
edward w pritchard
She walked right in front of me. If I was younger I would have said something. A long silk type skirt, feminine and ladylike but tight from the back. Pretty but unusual, not like the usual odd shopper at the Goodwill but like a character from Sherwood Anderson's Wineburg, Ohio; bustling about at shopping despite the loneliness and isolation evidenced by shopping at the Goodwill midweek a few minutes from closing time.
I never did hear her voice because I didn't want to spoil things if it was wrong. She went around looking at the dishes, bric a brac, and then the hats and women's accessories. She was dressed well, it looked expensive to me but one has to be skeptical if someone is seen shopping at the goodwill.
Her beauty was like an artist's model but small, too short maybe, dark and intense; like a lemur not in a zoo but free in Madagascar. Intense dark intelligent eyes. If an artist would paint her he would be surprised maybe, her breasts might be different not like any of the other two hundred models who had posed in the past for the painter.
She put the few items she had bought in the basket of the cart, where a child should have been sitting, and then she hurried across the store to look again one last time.
After I paid for my book she looked at me intensely through the thick glass of the double exit doors while I stared at her. I didn't want to look at what she had bought in case it was wrong. Sometimes when I am shopping at the Goodwill just before closing time the lonliness and isolation make me feel like one of the usual odd customers rather than myself.
end
fiction
edward w pritchard
She walked right in front of me. If I was younger I would have said something. A long silk type skirt, feminine and ladylike but tight from the back. Pretty but unusual, not like the usual odd shopper at the Goodwill but like a character from Sherwood Anderson's Wineburg, Ohio; bustling about at shopping despite the loneliness and isolation evidenced by shopping at the Goodwill midweek a few minutes from closing time.
I never did hear her voice because I didn't want to spoil things if it was wrong. She went around looking at the dishes, bric a brac, and then the hats and women's accessories. She was dressed well, it looked expensive to me but one has to be skeptical if someone is seen shopping at the goodwill.
Her beauty was like an artist's model but small, too short maybe, dark and intense; like a lemur not in a zoo but free in Madagascar. Intense dark intelligent eyes. If an artist would paint her he would be surprised maybe, her breasts might be different not like any of the other two hundred models who had posed in the past for the painter.
She put the few items she had bought in the basket of the cart, where a child should have been sitting, and then she hurried across the store to look again one last time.
After I paid for my book she looked at me intensely through the thick glass of the double exit doors while I stared at her. I didn't want to look at what she had bought in case it was wrong. Sometimes when I am shopping at the Goodwill just before closing time the lonliness and isolation make me feel like one of the usual odd customers rather than myself.
end
Let us first honor our ancestors; an American military drone praises those who came first
Let us first honor our ancestors; an American military drone praises those who came first
fiction
edward w pritchard
We often hear the smart, thinking military drones today complaining about the tour of duty they have been assigned. Syria, Sudan, the Japanese outer Islands; each drone stationed there acts like that odious duty was designed just to inconvenience them.
Let us first honor our ancestors; an American military drone praises those who came first. I am talking about America's first drone; taking a look of it's typical tour of duty might make some of these latest generation American military drones take pause, and maybe appreciate what they really have.
The first American military drone was the Goodyear blimp, commissioned in 1925. During the 1940's the Goodyear blimps did duty along the coasts of America protecting merchant ships during time of war and later in the 1950's during one of the various "cold wars" protecting the American mainland and looking out for subversives. Little known fact, back then human teams and crews piloted the "blimps".
During the 1960's Goodyear blimps were used mostly for advertising and publicity. Cruising and buzzing above the modest town of Akron, Ohio. For excitement the manned drones would travel to another American city for Monday night Football. The blimp would be a roving camera stand in the sky.
In 2011 near Friedburg Germany, during the transition from human to machine pilots, the human pilot was killed in an explosion but successfully was able to save the lives of his three other human passengers. Of course the blimp was totally destroyed.
Modern unmanned Drones tired of long duties for the US military in far away Countries? Let us first honor our ancestors. The Goodyear blimp silently patroling the skies above America mixing advertising and promotion with stealthful surveillance.
end
fiction
edward w pritchard
We often hear the smart, thinking military drones today complaining about the tour of duty they have been assigned. Syria, Sudan, the Japanese outer Islands; each drone stationed there acts like that odious duty was designed just to inconvenience them.
Let us first honor our ancestors; an American military drone praises those who came first. I am talking about America's first drone; taking a look of it's typical tour of duty might make some of these latest generation American military drones take pause, and maybe appreciate what they really have.
The first American military drone was the Goodyear blimp, commissioned in 1925. During the 1940's the Goodyear blimps did duty along the coasts of America protecting merchant ships during time of war and later in the 1950's during one of the various "cold wars" protecting the American mainland and looking out for subversives. Little known fact, back then human teams and crews piloted the "blimps".
During the 1960's Goodyear blimps were used mostly for advertising and publicity. Cruising and buzzing above the modest town of Akron, Ohio. For excitement the manned drones would travel to another American city for Monday night Football. The blimp would be a roving camera stand in the sky.
In 2011 near Friedburg Germany, during the transition from human to machine pilots, the human pilot was killed in an explosion but successfully was able to save the lives of his three other human passengers. Of course the blimp was totally destroyed.
Modern unmanned Drones tired of long duties for the US military in far away Countries? Let us first honor our ancestors. The Goodyear blimp silently patroling the skies above America mixing advertising and promotion with stealthful surveillance.
end
Dual survival; David and Saul in the Muslim world/part 1
Dual survival; David and Saul in the Muslim world
fiction
edward w pritchard
a work of parody
Option agreement:
Two middle aged eccentric Americans are dropped in a different Muslim Country each week and must use their wits and a few props left in a back pack to get back home. One is a barefoot Christian and the other is an Hasidic Jew, but sometimes he is just an observant Jew. David is the barefoot
Christian and Saul is the strict orthodox Jew. David has been trained by the US military, and Saul uses technology and science to skillfully control his small portion of the world. Saul usually lives in the desert, David prefers grand vistas and woodlands.
Tension exists between the two wandering partners as they descend Mountains or traverse deserts to return to home and safety. Both are extremely capable and adaptable, but sometimes they work at counter purposes. Flash floods, earthquakes and famines are endured with a running commentary of jests and deep philosophical jabs at the human condition.
The barefoot issue is a running joke. Saul the Hasedic Jew is a minimalist; trying joyfully to follow God's dictates, but sometimes he gets a little negative if things go wrong or if David's not wearing shoes causes complications in his survival philosophies. Food and what to eat and drink is a challenge each week.
Still in the end David and Saul are homeys who work together to return safely to America over and over again by the end of the show. Despite over whelming odds and the indifference of nature the two hulking friends often guy hug or high five weekly after an opportune triumph over their hostile world.
end part 1
fiction
edward w pritchard
a work of parody
Option agreement:
Two middle aged eccentric Americans are dropped in a different Muslim Country each week and must use their wits and a few props left in a back pack to get back home. One is a barefoot Christian and the other is an Hasidic Jew, but sometimes he is just an observant Jew. David is the barefoot
Christian and Saul is the strict orthodox Jew. David has been trained by the US military, and Saul uses technology and science to skillfully control his small portion of the world. Saul usually lives in the desert, David prefers grand vistas and woodlands.
Tension exists between the two wandering partners as they descend Mountains or traverse deserts to return to home and safety. Both are extremely capable and adaptable, but sometimes they work at counter purposes. Flash floods, earthquakes and famines are endured with a running commentary of jests and deep philosophical jabs at the human condition.
The barefoot issue is a running joke. Saul the Hasedic Jew is a minimalist; trying joyfully to follow God's dictates, but sometimes he gets a little negative if things go wrong or if David's not wearing shoes causes complications in his survival philosophies. Food and what to eat and drink is a challenge each week.
Still in the end David and Saul are homeys who work together to return safely to America over and over again by the end of the show. Despite over whelming odds and the indifference of nature the two hulking friends often guy hug or high five weekly after an opportune triumph over their hostile world.
end part 1
Tuesday, August 21, 2012
Seeking Mormons, dividing Osmonds/part 1
Seeking Mormons, dividing Osmonds
fiction
edward w pritchard
The Osmond family has had some health problems. It's been really difficult for me to arrange even a meeting with some of the members of the Osmond family.
I work for the democratic party and had been ordered by my bosses bosses to find some Mormon celebrities. It's been challenging.
Glen Beck is out. Gladys Knight is a definite maybe.
I am concentrating on Donnie and Jimmie now, or are they called Donald and James these days. My favorite Osmond singer was always Marie but I hear she is a Republican.
Politics, what a way to make a living. These Mormons are all over the place politically.
end part 1
fiction
edward w pritchard
The Osmond family has had some health problems. It's been really difficult for me to arrange even a meeting with some of the members of the Osmond family.
I work for the democratic party and had been ordered by my bosses bosses to find some Mormon celebrities. It's been challenging.
Glen Beck is out. Gladys Knight is a definite maybe.
I am concentrating on Donnie and Jimmie now, or are they called Donald and James these days. My favorite Osmond singer was always Marie but I hear she is a Republican.
Politics, what a way to make a living. These Mormons are all over the place politically.
end part 1
Monday, August 20, 2012
Iraq and America; archaeologist of the future/ repost
Monday, November 14, 2011
Iraq and America; archaeologist of the future/repost
archeologist of the future/anti war Iraq
fiction
edward w pritchard
Future, far forward
digging, digging in forgotten sands;
searching for personal glory
but treasure too.
fiction
edward w pritchard
Future, far forward
digging, digging in forgotten sands;
searching for personal glory
but treasure too.
Archaeologists digging in what was once Iraq
hoping to find another Ur
but in the North, where the Kurds live.
Digging, digging in forgotten sands
a find!
Tons and tons of weapons,
left by Americans they will surmise.
left by Americans they will surmise.
What kind of warlike people created such terrifying armaments?
Saturday, August 18, 2012
little girl, strange little girl
little girl, strange little girl
fiction
edward w pritchard
Psychologist notes
Shannon Duncan PHD
re Monica Simms
Patient is a forty two year old divorced Mother. She comes into office for assistance with her only daughter, Destiny who is four years old. Both Mother and daughter live in a small house near Mount Union college here in Alliance, Ohio. After visit one this counselor visited the home of Ms. Simms with the court appointed guardian ad litem for daughter Destiny. House is very neat and clean and daughter has her own room and is well cared for. House has Internet and cable and more than the usual amount of books and magazines. Mother is an avid gardener and yard is pristine. Daughter sees Father occasionally and speaks appropriately of her Dad who she calls Lester. Lester is a grounds keeper at Mount Union college. He sees daughter once per week. Relationship seems normal. Mother cooks meals for daughter and is a good cook. Refrigerator is normally full and fresh fruit is on counter. Mother drives a two year old Toyota, Father Lester changed oil on car a few weeks ago.
Child is precocious, can read and is remarkably verbal. Daughter surfs the Internet on her Ipad and writes notes in a small notebook. Mother today in third counseling session revealed her secret about her daughter.
Mother says daughter lived before, near Toledo, Ohio in the year 1835. Mother says her daughter Destiny was a twenty eight year old new bride who moved to western Ohio from Pittsburgh Pa in 1834.
end notes session three 08/03/2012
psychological profile
Destiny Simms
08/05/2012
Child is four years old. IQ 155, health good, normal little girl. vivid imagination, Child says her Mother needs counseling. Calls Father who brought her in, Lester, the little girl Destiny wants to live with her Father Lester rather than her Mother Monica [Simms].
TZ- clinical technican, Mount Union free clinic, testing center B
end
Review psychologist
Colan Richards-MD, PHD psychology, MA history
Re; Shannon Duncan PHD
client Destiny Simms-four years old
This is a consult of Dr. Shannons's patient. The little girl is Destiny Simms, age four, Her Mother who is a teacher is convinced that her daughter Destiny lived before.
Destiny sits in chair with hands folded in lap and looks intently at counselor. Calls me Dr. Richards. Child says her Mother is having stress related issues [ girl is very verbal] .
I ask girl about Toledo Ohio in 1835 where Mother says daughter was allegedly to originally have lived, [when she lived before.]
Destiny describes great black swamp in Western Ohio in intimate detail. Explains how settlers in Western Ohio dealt with draining the swamp and how swamp slowed development of Western Ohio.
Child mentioned how the development of ditching machine allowed swamp to be drained. Knows that a Mr. Hill invented ditching machine which allowed drainage tiles to be quickly set in ground to drain the ancient swamp.
Daughter describes Toledo War with Michigan of 1835 over disputed territory. Mentions Ohio Governor Lucas who she describes as a handsome young man. Talks about armed confrontation between Ohio and Michigan militias. Says no shots were fired.
After a few minutes of questioning about Ohio history Destiny asks to draw. She draws horses and flowers and hums as she colors.
Guardian Ad Litem Report
James Post
re Destiny Simms
Recommend full custody to Father Lester Simms with supervised visitation to Mother once per week.
Ohio Blue Cross Insurance
Re Lester Simms
policy number 298872
master policy Mount Union College-2012-5633
Full reimbursement to Duncan family practices sessions 1 to four, no further treatment required per court order, no further sessions are authorized for Destiny Simms age four, dependent of policy holder Lester. Simms.
end
To Lester/ Maintenance
from Doug Owens computer services
Lester I checked your daughter's history on her lap top. The history had been erased but I was able to find a visit to Wiki involving the great black swamp of Ohio and the 1835 Toledo war by using a little secret voodoo. I hope that helps.
doug
end
fiction
edward w pritchard
Psychologist notes
Shannon Duncan PHD
re Monica Simms
Patient is a forty two year old divorced Mother. She comes into office for assistance with her only daughter, Destiny who is four years old. Both Mother and daughter live in a small house near Mount Union college here in Alliance, Ohio. After visit one this counselor visited the home of Ms. Simms with the court appointed guardian ad litem for daughter Destiny. House is very neat and clean and daughter has her own room and is well cared for. House has Internet and cable and more than the usual amount of books and magazines. Mother is an avid gardener and yard is pristine. Daughter sees Father occasionally and speaks appropriately of her Dad who she calls Lester. Lester is a grounds keeper at Mount Union college. He sees daughter once per week. Relationship seems normal. Mother cooks meals for daughter and is a good cook. Refrigerator is normally full and fresh fruit is on counter. Mother drives a two year old Toyota, Father Lester changed oil on car a few weeks ago.
Child is precocious, can read and is remarkably verbal. Daughter surfs the Internet on her Ipad and writes notes in a small notebook. Mother today in third counseling session revealed her secret about her daughter.
Mother says daughter lived before, near Toledo, Ohio in the year 1835. Mother says her daughter Destiny was a twenty eight year old new bride who moved to western Ohio from Pittsburgh Pa in 1834.
end notes session three 08/03/2012
psychological profile
Destiny Simms
08/05/2012
Child is four years old. IQ 155, health good, normal little girl. vivid imagination, Child says her Mother needs counseling. Calls Father who brought her in, Lester, the little girl Destiny wants to live with her Father Lester rather than her Mother Monica [Simms].
TZ- clinical technican, Mount Union free clinic, testing center B
end
Review psychologist
Colan Richards-MD, PHD psychology, MA history
Re; Shannon Duncan PHD
client Destiny Simms-four years old
This is a consult of Dr. Shannons's patient. The little girl is Destiny Simms, age four, Her Mother who is a teacher is convinced that her daughter Destiny lived before.
Destiny sits in chair with hands folded in lap and looks intently at counselor. Calls me Dr. Richards. Child says her Mother is having stress related issues [ girl is very verbal] .
I ask girl about Toledo Ohio in 1835 where Mother says daughter was allegedly to originally have lived, [when she lived before.]
Destiny describes great black swamp in Western Ohio in intimate detail. Explains how settlers in Western Ohio dealt with draining the swamp and how swamp slowed development of Western Ohio.
Child mentioned how the development of ditching machine allowed swamp to be drained. Knows that a Mr. Hill invented ditching machine which allowed drainage tiles to be quickly set in ground to drain the ancient swamp.
Daughter describes Toledo War with Michigan of 1835 over disputed territory. Mentions Ohio Governor Lucas who she describes as a handsome young man. Talks about armed confrontation between Ohio and Michigan militias. Says no shots were fired.
After a few minutes of questioning about Ohio history Destiny asks to draw. She draws horses and flowers and hums as she colors.
Guardian Ad Litem Report
James Post
re Destiny Simms
Recommend full custody to Father Lester Simms with supervised visitation to Mother once per week.
Ohio Blue Cross Insurance
Re Lester Simms
policy number 298872
master policy Mount Union College-2012-5633
Full reimbursement to Duncan family practices sessions 1 to four, no further treatment required per court order, no further sessions are authorized for Destiny Simms age four, dependent of policy holder Lester. Simms.
end
To Lester/ Maintenance
from Doug Owens computer services
Lester I checked your daughter's history on her lap top. The history had been erased but I was able to find a visit to Wiki involving the great black swamp of Ohio and the 1835 Toledo war by using a little secret voodoo. I hope that helps.
doug
end
Damascus, Ohio, not Syria, it's a little boring here but peaceful/draft 1 in progress
Damascus, Ohio, not Syria, it's a little boring here but peaceful/ draft 1 in progress
fiction
edward w pritchard
Damascus, Ohio, not Syria, it's a little boring here today but peaceful. I drove down yesterday to take a look, at Damascus Ohio, since I couldn't go to Syria; I have been worried about the war, the situation and people in Damascus, Syria. Syria is in a civil war, sectarian violence, Shiite against Sunni and as usual America and our allies are again failing in our efforts to help by coercion to bring democracy to a Muslim country.
First off, there are two Damascus' in Ohio, two at least that I know of, one West of me about two hours and a half, near Toledo, Ohio; that's the driving distance from Damascus Syria to Tel Aviv in Israel. The second Damascus, in Ohio the one I drove to yesterday is East of Akron, where I live, about a good hour's drive; that's about the driving distance from Damascus Syria, to Beirut, Lebanon. Likely, both Damascus' in Ohio are named after the famous city in Syria, but at least in Damascus East in Ohio, where I drove to is a lot more sedate and calm than it is in Damascus Syria, the Mother City. I hear a lot about Syria lately in the news and it worries me. I keep fearing that Israel will be drawn into the fighting in Damascus, fifteen minutes away from Tel Aviv by latest generation fighter jet; or the violence in Syria will spread to Beruit Lebanon, still destabilized from their recent problems, and one hour's drive away from Damascus, Syria in an old truck carrying ten teenage rebel fighters.
Damascus, in Mahoning County Ohio, out towards Youngstown, is really small, not even actually a town; we call them townships here. I didn't see any good restaurants, not on the main road I drove on; at least not the kind of restaurant one of the food travel channel guys would want to go to. The big food news around Damascus, Ohio is that McDonald's is bringing out the spicy Mcbites soon. I didn't see a McDonald's in Damascus, but, I passed through town a little fast. You have to drive North fifteen minutes to the 57 Diner in Alliance for good food, or twenty minutes South to the Trolley Car Diner in Lisbon, Ohio not Portugal. Both places have great food and lots of the people from Damascus are there at lunch time.
No signs of violence today in Damascus, Ohio. Several gun shops selling weapons, and one place called "Saw and knife sales" looked a little ominous, but a very peaceful town really. The correctional institute down in Lisbon was sedate, no guards, no inmates about. The only evidence of the military I saw driving through South Eastern Ohio on Friday, August 17, 2012 was a VFW up in Alliance, with only three cars in the parking lot at 2PM. However, the people in Damascus Ohio can be aggressive, if being too aggressive in their storytelling is a hostile activity. Older people everywhere in Ohio can talk a little too loud and too long on subjects they are passionate about.
Some sectarian religious differences were evident in my drive through Damascus, Ohio. The Jehovah's Witnesses have at least three Churches down that way and they are aggressive in their advertising as you drive along the roadways. They, or someone painted up a very large rock, twenty feet high, on route 45 South; and on the large rock they painted Jesus saves on the side facing the road and one hundred feet North some one else rented a billboard to say "God is Judgment", or something close to that. I was driving around a curve when I saw the message but I think "God will Judge You" was the sentiment. Several of the other churches down that way by billboard invited me to services this Sunday, but they asked in a friendly way; no sectarian violence was threatened, demonstrated or evidenced.
No souks were found in Damascus Ohio, but a couple of very small farmers markets were noted, one in Lisbon just selling corn and tomatoes and several along the road North on route 45. No hunger among the denizens of Damascus, Ohio was observed, nor were any refugees espied desperately headed away from town on foot. A lot of us folks here in Ohio are too fat anyway and it's a good thing we don't have to pathetically walk carrying our most important belongings to Turkey, or Lebanon, or maybe even Iran, like the people do right now in Damascus, Syria.
I heard a retired policeman at the 57 Diner having lunch say that it wasn't as safe as people think to live out in the country down this way, country meaning out of the cities and towns, rural America. He blames the recent rash of robberies on unemployed teenagers, it's hard for them to find work. He was suspect in his motivation a little, for he is now selling security alarms he said, I eavesdropped what he said at lunch; but he was an honest man and seemed to know a lot about small town life. The only teenager I saw down toward Damascus, Ohio was taking his Grand Mother to lunch, his treat, he works part time when he is not playing in the eight grade school band. The teenager left the waitress a respectful tip, out of his own money; I noticed and I told him so, and he called me Sir. No teenagers in Damascus, Ohio or nearby seemed to be rebels or looking to radically change the status quo in their Country, at least that I noticed on my drive down through Damascus Ohio, on 08/17/2012.
The land down around Damascus, Ohio originally belonged to the Hopewell Indians. They were the mound builders and are an ancient people but nothing like the ancientness of Damascus, Syria, one of the oldest continually habituated cities on Earth. After the Hopewell moved on, historians aren't sure why, the newer Indians that moved into the area that later became Damascus, Ohio; the Erie, the Iroquois, and the Algonquins considered the area a cross roads, neutral territory. The tribes back then, before the Europeans came, although they had many differences, apparently allowed each other to pass through the area or stay temporarily without inciting violent warlike behaviors towards each other.
Now don't get me started on all the bad things the Europeans, Americans and other immigrants did to the original native Americans. You know how us old people in Ohio can tell long drawn out stories. But those original native American tribes might be on to something. If an area like Damascus, Ohio or Damascus, Syria is an ancient cross roads and maybe an important trading center, they call trading centers souks in Damascus Syria I think; then there will be a lot of diversity among the peoples there, diversity in religious beliefs, preferences in food, and political opinions.
Maybe the people of the ancient Mother city of Damascus Syria can learn something from some the original inhabitants of the area later to become the very modest and humble town of Damascus, Ohio. Damascus, Ohio once paid a great tribute to Damascus Syria, when it was first founded by choosing to name itself after the famous City in Syria.
Now of course, Damascus, Ohio is in America, and is part of an imperialistic Country, that by force and subterfuge tries to make the whole world think and act like us. Mc- America, democracy, big business and sometimes shamefully water boarding for our enemies. We have our problems here in America . But, if we here are all Americans, even the native Americans who were once in the way of progress, then let's have the later native America tribes who lived near the area that is now the very small insignificant town of Damascus Ohio give the people in and around Damascus Syria some advice.
Syria, Iran, Iraq, Saudi Arabia, Israel, Turkey, Lebanon, Jordan and others, declare Syria neutral territory because it is a cross roads. Arab and Muslim powers, stop the violence in Damascus Syria.
Lebanon don't allow your citizens, who follow tribal ways or are experts at promoting chaos incite and practice violence in Syria. Israel, don't panic, don't bomb Syria; Israel don't get involved in a no fly zone in Syria.
This from an old storyteller from Ohio. America, and your allies, quit meddling in Syria. America instead of fighting in Iraq, Pakistan, Afghanistan and very soon in Syria, mind your own store and find the teenagers in America jobs before they start listening to the ideologies of chaos.
Meanwhile, take a nice drive down through Damascus, Ohio and see the peaceful countryside. If you stop in Damascus, Ohio say hello to the locals, but be careful old people from Ohio can talk a lot and use a lot of exclamation points in their writing once they get started on a story or giving their opinion on anything, such as the sad situation in Damascus, Syria!
end
to be edited, continued and rewritten
fiction
edward w pritchard
Damascus, Ohio, not Syria, it's a little boring here today but peaceful. I drove down yesterday to take a look, at Damascus Ohio, since I couldn't go to Syria; I have been worried about the war, the situation and people in Damascus, Syria. Syria is in a civil war, sectarian violence, Shiite against Sunni and as usual America and our allies are again failing in our efforts to help by coercion to bring democracy to a Muslim country.
First off, there are two Damascus' in Ohio, two at least that I know of, one West of me about two hours and a half, near Toledo, Ohio; that's the driving distance from Damascus Syria to Tel Aviv in Israel. The second Damascus, in Ohio the one I drove to yesterday is East of Akron, where I live, about a good hour's drive; that's about the driving distance from Damascus Syria, to Beirut, Lebanon. Likely, both Damascus' in Ohio are named after the famous city in Syria, but at least in Damascus East in Ohio, where I drove to is a lot more sedate and calm than it is in Damascus Syria, the Mother City. I hear a lot about Syria lately in the news and it worries me. I keep fearing that Israel will be drawn into the fighting in Damascus, fifteen minutes away from Tel Aviv by latest generation fighter jet; or the violence in Syria will spread to Beruit Lebanon, still destabilized from their recent problems, and one hour's drive away from Damascus, Syria in an old truck carrying ten teenage rebel fighters.
Damascus, in Mahoning County Ohio, out towards Youngstown, is really small, not even actually a town; we call them townships here. I didn't see any good restaurants, not on the main road I drove on; at least not the kind of restaurant one of the food travel channel guys would want to go to. The big food news around Damascus, Ohio is that McDonald's is bringing out the spicy Mcbites soon. I didn't see a McDonald's in Damascus, but, I passed through town a little fast. You have to drive North fifteen minutes to the 57 Diner in Alliance for good food, or twenty minutes South to the Trolley Car Diner in Lisbon, Ohio not Portugal. Both places have great food and lots of the people from Damascus are there at lunch time.
No signs of violence today in Damascus, Ohio. Several gun shops selling weapons, and one place called "Saw and knife sales" looked a little ominous, but a very peaceful town really. The correctional institute down in Lisbon was sedate, no guards, no inmates about. The only evidence of the military I saw driving through South Eastern Ohio on Friday, August 17, 2012 was a VFW up in Alliance, with only three cars in the parking lot at 2PM. However, the people in Damascus Ohio can be aggressive, if being too aggressive in their storytelling is a hostile activity. Older people everywhere in Ohio can talk a little too loud and too long on subjects they are passionate about.
Some sectarian religious differences were evident in my drive through Damascus, Ohio. The Jehovah's Witnesses have at least three Churches down that way and they are aggressive in their advertising as you drive along the roadways. They, or someone painted up a very large rock, twenty feet high, on route 45 South; and on the large rock they painted Jesus saves on the side facing the road and one hundred feet North some one else rented a billboard to say "God is Judgment", or something close to that. I was driving around a curve when I saw the message but I think "God will Judge You" was the sentiment. Several of the other churches down that way by billboard invited me to services this Sunday, but they asked in a friendly way; no sectarian violence was threatened, demonstrated or evidenced.
No souks were found in Damascus Ohio, but a couple of very small farmers markets were noted, one in Lisbon just selling corn and tomatoes and several along the road North on route 45. No hunger among the denizens of Damascus, Ohio was observed, nor were any refugees espied desperately headed away from town on foot. A lot of us folks here in Ohio are too fat anyway and it's a good thing we don't have to pathetically walk carrying our most important belongings to Turkey, or Lebanon, or maybe even Iran, like the people do right now in Damascus, Syria.
I heard a retired policeman at the 57 Diner having lunch say that it wasn't as safe as people think to live out in the country down this way, country meaning out of the cities and towns, rural America. He blames the recent rash of robberies on unemployed teenagers, it's hard for them to find work. He was suspect in his motivation a little, for he is now selling security alarms he said, I eavesdropped what he said at lunch; but he was an honest man and seemed to know a lot about small town life. The only teenager I saw down toward Damascus, Ohio was taking his Grand Mother to lunch, his treat, he works part time when he is not playing in the eight grade school band. The teenager left the waitress a respectful tip, out of his own money; I noticed and I told him so, and he called me Sir. No teenagers in Damascus, Ohio or nearby seemed to be rebels or looking to radically change the status quo in their Country, at least that I noticed on my drive down through Damascus Ohio, on 08/17/2012.
The land down around Damascus, Ohio originally belonged to the Hopewell Indians. They were the mound builders and are an ancient people but nothing like the ancientness of Damascus, Syria, one of the oldest continually habituated cities on Earth. After the Hopewell moved on, historians aren't sure why, the newer Indians that moved into the area that later became Damascus, Ohio; the Erie, the Iroquois, and the Algonquins considered the area a cross roads, neutral territory. The tribes back then, before the Europeans came, although they had many differences, apparently allowed each other to pass through the area or stay temporarily without inciting violent warlike behaviors towards each other.
Now don't get me started on all the bad things the Europeans, Americans and other immigrants did to the original native Americans. You know how us old people in Ohio can tell long drawn out stories. But those original native American tribes might be on to something. If an area like Damascus, Ohio or Damascus, Syria is an ancient cross roads and maybe an important trading center, they call trading centers souks in Damascus Syria I think; then there will be a lot of diversity among the peoples there, diversity in religious beliefs, preferences in food, and political opinions.
Maybe the people of the ancient Mother city of Damascus Syria can learn something from some the original inhabitants of the area later to become the very modest and humble town of Damascus, Ohio. Damascus, Ohio once paid a great tribute to Damascus Syria, when it was first founded by choosing to name itself after the famous City in Syria.
Now of course, Damascus, Ohio is in America, and is part of an imperialistic Country, that by force and subterfuge tries to make the whole world think and act like us. Mc- America, democracy, big business and sometimes shamefully water boarding for our enemies. We have our problems here in America . But, if we here are all Americans, even the native Americans who were once in the way of progress, then let's have the later native America tribes who lived near the area that is now the very small insignificant town of Damascus Ohio give the people in and around Damascus Syria some advice.
Syria, Iran, Iraq, Saudi Arabia, Israel, Turkey, Lebanon, Jordan and others, declare Syria neutral territory because it is a cross roads. Arab and Muslim powers, stop the violence in Damascus Syria.
Lebanon don't allow your citizens, who follow tribal ways or are experts at promoting chaos incite and practice violence in Syria. Israel, don't panic, don't bomb Syria; Israel don't get involved in a no fly zone in Syria.
This from an old storyteller from Ohio. America, and your allies, quit meddling in Syria. America instead of fighting in Iraq, Pakistan, Afghanistan and very soon in Syria, mind your own store and find the teenagers in America jobs before they start listening to the ideologies of chaos.
Meanwhile, take a nice drive down through Damascus, Ohio and see the peaceful countryside. If you stop in Damascus, Ohio say hello to the locals, but be careful old people from Ohio can talk a lot and use a lot of exclamation points in their writing once they get started on a story or giving their opinion on anything, such as the sad situation in Damascus, Syria!
end
to be edited, continued and rewritten
Thursday, August 16, 2012
A song played till the end
A song played till the end
fiction
edward w pritchard
A song played till the end. A song played till the end of Monica's life. Evan saw to that, he wanted to send Monica out to music. He hadn't seen her for a long time and she probably couldn't hear the songs. Still Evan made sure Monica went out of this life to music.
When they were together music was important to Monica. She wanted to be a singer once. A long time ago. When Monica and Evan were close, together, touching. Music was important to Monica then. Now Monica was dieing and Evan had come to sit with her at her bedside until she died. It wouldn't be long now.
When the nurse came in to adjust the flow of the drips into the tubes Evans moved but he made sure another song was ready to go on his laptop. First Beethoven, and Mozart's requiem, and then Vivaldi Four Season's, and then Paul Stokie, the Wedding Song, and the Beatles, and the Girl groups.
Monica died during Schubert's Ave Maria. The nurses ask Evan to leave during the Greensleeves.
That was the sad end of Monica but Evan made sure she went out to music.
end
fiction
edward w pritchard
A song played till the end. A song played till the end of Monica's life. Evan saw to that, he wanted to send Monica out to music. He hadn't seen her for a long time and she probably couldn't hear the songs. Still Evan made sure Monica went out of this life to music.
When they were together music was important to Monica. She wanted to be a singer once. A long time ago. When Monica and Evan were close, together, touching. Music was important to Monica then. Now Monica was dieing and Evan had come to sit with her at her bedside until she died. It wouldn't be long now.
When the nurse came in to adjust the flow of the drips into the tubes Evans moved but he made sure another song was ready to go on his laptop. First Beethoven, and Mozart's requiem, and then Vivaldi Four Season's, and then Paul Stokie, the Wedding Song, and the Beatles, and the Girl groups.
Monica died during Schubert's Ave Maria. The nurses ask Evan to leave during the Greensleeves.
That was the sad end of Monica but Evan made sure she went out to music.
end
When does the devil emerge; what condition my condtion was in , by Mickey Newbury
When does the devil emerge; "what condition my condition was in", by Mickey Newbury
fiction
edward w pritchard
Put on tubular bells by by Mike Oldfield from You tube, or buy the CD as you read this story, to help summon the devil.
When does the Devil emerge? Be carefully he is waiting for you to summon him. If you believe he is real he is waiting close by. If you believe he is just a category of your mind he is closer, Watch what you think. The Devil is near, he's part of you. Let him out. Start the destructive process that leads to the ultimate burst of creative imagination.
Mickey Newbury asked " what condition my condition was in". It was his counter with LSD but it's a metaphor for the artist's creative process. Dare you let your creative monster out of it's cage; the cage you keep it in, so you can be normal. Are you listening to tubular bells. Let the devil out. Where will it take you?
Sing, write, color, sculpt or draw. Close you eyes and hear the hidden music. What is it calling to you to do? The devil is within you. He's left to your right, the part of yourself you have learned to suppress. The devil is the old testament part of your psyche that must be caged by laws, by codification, by commandments. Thou shall not think. Let the devil out. Hear the hidden secret music of the late starless night.
Say what you need to say, say it, sing it, strum it on a guitar. Color with a burnt stick and write it on the wall of your cave. What must you say before you die, before you go to hell.
Exorcise your mind. You have been normal far too long. Say what's rolling about your subconscious.
What condition is your condition In?
fiction
edward w pritchard
Put on tubular bells by by Mike Oldfield from You tube, or buy the CD as you read this story, to help summon the devil.
When does the Devil emerge? Be carefully he is waiting for you to summon him. If you believe he is real he is waiting close by. If you believe he is just a category of your mind he is closer, Watch what you think. The Devil is near, he's part of you. Let him out. Start the destructive process that leads to the ultimate burst of creative imagination.
Mickey Newbury asked " what condition my condition was in". It was his counter with LSD but it's a metaphor for the artist's creative process. Dare you let your creative monster out of it's cage; the cage you keep it in, so you can be normal. Are you listening to tubular bells. Let the devil out. Where will it take you?
Sing, write, color, sculpt or draw. Close you eyes and hear the hidden music. What is it calling to you to do? The devil is within you. He's left to your right, the part of yourself you have learned to suppress. The devil is the old testament part of your psyche that must be caged by laws, by codification, by commandments. Thou shall not think. Let the devil out. Hear the hidden secret music of the late starless night.
Say what you need to say, say it, sing it, strum it on a guitar. Color with a burnt stick and write it on the wall of your cave. What must you say before you die, before you go to hell.
Exorcise your mind. You have been normal far too long. Say what's rolling about your subconscious.
What condition is your condition In?
An appropriate choice of words; I am in a New York state of mind
An appropriate choice of words; I am in a New York state of mind
fiction
edward w pritchard
An appropriate choice of words; I am in a New York state of mind. Actually it's Manhattan's upper East side, at 67th and Lexington.
First order of business find a fine hotel. Out of the way, eclectic, a rare bargain. Limited conveniences, just the necessities. Then which way to the Met. Browse until I tire of the world's finest Art collection. Alone if circumstance dictates or if it's a great day with a unique companion.
Then to lunch. Any of New York's twenty thousand restaurants will excite. Walk and walk after. Try to get lost. Back to the hotel. One hour and twenty minutes of deep sleep. Then a beer for me and Cognac for her. Damn the expense. Sit on the balcony and watch the evening rise.
Day two to the MOMA. Just in the morning. Dinner at the four Seasons. It's a little too formal but that's Ok. Find a bookstore and see a show.
Drowsy but in a New York state of mind watch the celebrites stroll by while sitting in the lobby of the Carlyle. One last drink at the Plaza or the Pierre.
Back to Ohio, peanuts and pepsi on the stuffy plane never tasted so good.
fiction
edward w pritchard
An appropriate choice of words; I am in a New York state of mind. Actually it's Manhattan's upper East side, at 67th and Lexington.
First order of business find a fine hotel. Out of the way, eclectic, a rare bargain. Limited conveniences, just the necessities. Then which way to the Met. Browse until I tire of the world's finest Art collection. Alone if circumstance dictates or if it's a great day with a unique companion.
Then to lunch. Any of New York's twenty thousand restaurants will excite. Walk and walk after. Try to get lost. Back to the hotel. One hour and twenty minutes of deep sleep. Then a beer for me and Cognac for her. Damn the expense. Sit on the balcony and watch the evening rise.
Day two to the MOMA. Just in the morning. Dinner at the four Seasons. It's a little too formal but that's Ok. Find a bookstore and see a show.
Drowsy but in a New York state of mind watch the celebrites stroll by while sitting in the lobby of the Carlyle. One last drink at the Plaza or the Pierre.
Back to Ohio, peanuts and pepsi on the stuffy plane never tasted so good.
Old, very old, Ben Franklin leaves France with a line of girls crying at the dock
Old, very old, Ben Franklin leaves France with a line of girls crying at the dock
fiction
edward w pritchard
Old, very old Ben Franklin leaves France with a line of girls crying at the dock. What was his secret? What did Ben Franklin know that caused all those pretty femmes to cry and jump up and down waving to him one morning long ago as his ship left France to go back to America.
It's not just what Ben Franklin knew that the ladies desired, its what he did. Ben Franklin cultivated and nourished his good habits since he was a boy. He wrote about his techniques in " Poor Richards Almanac". Ben Franklin developed and cultivated habits that he implemented in France with the beautiful young ladies to such success that when he left them they raced to the docks and wailed and jumped missing him before the ship rocked on the waves to America.
Sadly, Ben Franklin's specific technique to satisfy beautiful women are not in revealed "Poor Richard's Almanac". That would be too easy. In that book he tells how to develop good habits, refine them, and then cultivate them over and over. Habit it's the secret of his success, but which specific habit?
What is secret of Ben Franklin's remarkable success with young desirable French Mademoiselles? It's not about his experiments with pulsating electricity, it's not about his being a good postman, it's not about him as a fireman or a statesman.
What was the secret of Ben Franklin's success with young French women? We can only speculate.
end
fiction
edward w pritchard
Old, very old Ben Franklin leaves France with a line of girls crying at the dock. What was his secret? What did Ben Franklin know that caused all those pretty femmes to cry and jump up and down waving to him one morning long ago as his ship left France to go back to America.
It's not just what Ben Franklin knew that the ladies desired, its what he did. Ben Franklin cultivated and nourished his good habits since he was a boy. He wrote about his techniques in " Poor Richards Almanac". Ben Franklin developed and cultivated habits that he implemented in France with the beautiful young ladies to such success that when he left them they raced to the docks and wailed and jumped missing him before the ship rocked on the waves to America.
Sadly, Ben Franklin's specific technique to satisfy beautiful women are not in revealed "Poor Richard's Almanac". That would be too easy. In that book he tells how to develop good habits, refine them, and then cultivate them over and over. Habit it's the secret of his success, but which specific habit?
What is secret of Ben Franklin's remarkable success with young desirable French Mademoiselles? It's not about his experiments with pulsating electricity, it's not about his being a good postman, it's not about him as a fireman or a statesman.
What was the secret of Ben Franklin's success with young French women? We can only speculate.
end
Tracy Lords and Ginger Lynn, the Price of Fame/edit 1
Traci Lords and Ginger Lynn, the price of fame/ edit 1
fiction
edward w pritchard
This is a lament on the price one must pay to gain fame and celebrity and continues with comments on the brevity of existence.
Traci Lords and Ginger Lynn, two celebrities who paid the price to gain fame. Traci started very young, shocking an entire industry, but that was long ago. Times change and new aspirants appear, eager to pay the price for fame. Like Traci Lords did so long ago.
Traci Lords you seem to be doing ok now with that indomitable will. At least so it seems to me from afar. I hope you are well and I hope you have enough money. It must be very hard to overcome your shocking past and return to the normal sedate real world. People are so judgmental. Money, money, it helps.
I worry about Ginger Lynn sometimes. Soft in the soul maybe she is. I don't know Ginger personally, having never met but I have admired her earlier work. Ginger is too naive, too trusting that all will work out well. Relying on the kindness of strangers. What has become of Ginger. She has her modicum of fame, but is she well?
Time pulls the rug out from under us. We stand up to Time's ravages and patiently one day at a time, Time , grinds all of us down. Puts us in our place. Our youth and beauty are gone. A few pictures as a reminder of what once was. More in the case of Tracy Lords and less for Ginger Lynn, vanishing everyday, mercifully pictures vanishing everyday.
New characters are willing to pay the toll to chase fame. So soon they to be vanishing pictures on the Internet of eternity.
Smile girls, smile and wink Traci and Ginger; kind thoughts from a fan.
end
fiction
edward w pritchard
This is a lament on the price one must pay to gain fame and celebrity and continues with comments on the brevity of existence.
Traci Lords and Ginger Lynn, two celebrities who paid the price to gain fame. Traci started very young, shocking an entire industry, but that was long ago. Times change and new aspirants appear, eager to pay the price for fame. Like Traci Lords did so long ago.
Traci Lords you seem to be doing ok now with that indomitable will. At least so it seems to me from afar. I hope you are well and I hope you have enough money. It must be very hard to overcome your shocking past and return to the normal sedate real world. People are so judgmental. Money, money, it helps.
I worry about Ginger Lynn sometimes. Soft in the soul maybe she is. I don't know Ginger personally, having never met but I have admired her earlier work. Ginger is too naive, too trusting that all will work out well. Relying on the kindness of strangers. What has become of Ginger. She has her modicum of fame, but is she well?
Time pulls the rug out from under us. We stand up to Time's ravages and patiently one day at a time, Time , grinds all of us down. Puts us in our place. Our youth and beauty are gone. A few pictures as a reminder of what once was. More in the case of Tracy Lords and less for Ginger Lynn, vanishing everyday, mercifully pictures vanishing everyday.
New characters are willing to pay the toll to chase fame. So soon they to be vanishing pictures on the Internet of eternity.
Smile girls, smile and wink Traci and Ginger; kind thoughts from a fan.
end
Me in the cheap wing of the community nursing home
Me in the cheap wing of the community nursing home
fiction
edward w pritchard
This is Edward, slowly said the chief administrator to her new employee. The young girl was from India, or Sri Lanka or maybe Nepal. I smiled a little not to meet the new aide but because Mrs. Lawson called me Edward; Edward wasn't me and little definances kept me sane at the nursing home where I was sentenced to end my days. My friends called me Ed.
Edward used to work here, in this very retirement villa, long ago, when he went to College, said Mrs. Lawson. The new girl said something, very crisp, like folded english Country linens. She had a heavy, formal English accent laced with Hindi and it took me a minute or two to hear her.
Every afternoon Ed lifts weights and he spends a lot of time writing, he's up to eight million words.
Mrs. Lawson gave me Hersheys chocolate. She wanted me to write her another story about her Daughter. I didn't make her ask. Her daughter had died two years ago. Mrs. Lawson still is having trouble dealing with the grief. I folded over the page of the yellow pad that I had been working on and started a new story about Mrs. Lawson's daughter, Taby.
end
fiction
edward w pritchard
This is Edward, slowly said the chief administrator to her new employee. The young girl was from India, or Sri Lanka or maybe Nepal. I smiled a little not to meet the new aide but because Mrs. Lawson called me Edward; Edward wasn't me and little definances kept me sane at the nursing home where I was sentenced to end my days. My friends called me Ed.
Edward used to work here, in this very retirement villa, long ago, when he went to College, said Mrs. Lawson. The new girl said something, very crisp, like folded english Country linens. She had a heavy, formal English accent laced with Hindi and it took me a minute or two to hear her.
Every afternoon Ed lifts weights and he spends a lot of time writing, he's up to eight million words.
Mrs. Lawson gave me Hersheys chocolate. She wanted me to write her another story about her Daughter. I didn't make her ask. Her daughter had died two years ago. Mrs. Lawson still is having trouble dealing with the grief. I folded over the page of the yellow pad that I had been working on and started a new story about Mrs. Lawson's daughter, Taby.
end
school funding miracle; opportunity bonds/draft 1
school funding miracle; opportunity bonds/ draft 1
fiction
edward w pritchard
Four flights of heavy double cement stairs lead us up, up, up toward the blue auditorium, serving today as the site of the community meeting for the roll out of the semi annual opportunity bonds program. A stale smell of cheap institutional food filled the grimy stairwell, the large hall served as cafeteria, meeting hall, and class room.
Water was pouring down the side of stairs toward the distant dripping basement of the sagging building. I trudged the last several steps into the loud airless auditorium. I was coming in the East entrance, reserved for citizens of the community who hadn't went to high school in our district. I was much too old to climb four flights of steep steps, but out of duty and habit I trudged on. The water was running down the stairs because a large water main had again ruptured on the roof of the building. The custodial crews and maintenance men nonchalantly went about their work of a temporary fix oblivious of the crowds in the building, the older visitors like me, and oblivious to the emergency funding problems. Dressed in green jump suits the custodians and janitors dragged wheeled buckets toward the top of the building.
Just as I entered the auditorium an explosive roar; the new freshmen classes burst through the double door two hundred feet to my right. A few students did handstands and flips and several pretty cheerleaders tumbled, rolled, and thundered about as the clapping freshmen class broke out in the opportunity bonds song. About me, in the crowd of local homeowners, I saw a few tired smiles but mostly the senior citizens anxiously looked about for a place to sit.
The teachers milled about nervously, arms folded across their chests. They didn't know how long they would continue to be paid. A fat principal ate a sandwich as she walked about directing traffic and keeping order.
A crescendo of noise drenched the room but the bleachers where I sat were quiet. Most of the older senior homeowners of the community wanted to be quickly assigned their bond requirements and move on with their lives. In a few hours it would be over and we could get back to our homes.
They were handing out the notices to my left. One man was fanning his wife with the yellow contract. I couldn't hear him but I am sure he was comforting his wife, who looked faint. The assessments must be bad, very bad. How much would the school funding miracle cost us this year?
end part 1/ draft 1
fiction
edward w pritchard
Four flights of heavy double cement stairs lead us up, up, up toward the blue auditorium, serving today as the site of the community meeting for the roll out of the semi annual opportunity bonds program. A stale smell of cheap institutional food filled the grimy stairwell, the large hall served as cafeteria, meeting hall, and class room.
Water was pouring down the side of stairs toward the distant dripping basement of the sagging building. I trudged the last several steps into the loud airless auditorium. I was coming in the East entrance, reserved for citizens of the community who hadn't went to high school in our district. I was much too old to climb four flights of steep steps, but out of duty and habit I trudged on. The water was running down the stairs because a large water main had again ruptured on the roof of the building. The custodial crews and maintenance men nonchalantly went about their work of a temporary fix oblivious of the crowds in the building, the older visitors like me, and oblivious to the emergency funding problems. Dressed in green jump suits the custodians and janitors dragged wheeled buckets toward the top of the building.
Just as I entered the auditorium an explosive roar; the new freshmen classes burst through the double door two hundred feet to my right. A few students did handstands and flips and several pretty cheerleaders tumbled, rolled, and thundered about as the clapping freshmen class broke out in the opportunity bonds song. About me, in the crowd of local homeowners, I saw a few tired smiles but mostly the senior citizens anxiously looked about for a place to sit.
The teachers milled about nervously, arms folded across their chests. They didn't know how long they would continue to be paid. A fat principal ate a sandwich as she walked about directing traffic and keeping order.
A crescendo of noise drenched the room but the bleachers where I sat were quiet. Most of the older senior homeowners of the community wanted to be quickly assigned their bond requirements and move on with their lives. In a few hours it would be over and we could get back to our homes.
They were handing out the notices to my left. One man was fanning his wife with the yellow contract. I couldn't hear him but I am sure he was comforting his wife, who looked faint. The assessments must be bad, very bad. How much would the school funding miracle cost us this year?
end part 1/ draft 1
Wednesday, August 15, 2012
Drifting through space/ addendum to part 1/draft 1
Drifting through space addendum to part 1/draft 1
fiction
edward w pritchard
see November 09, 2011 for more of the Doreen drifting through space stories- 1-5, see part 1 below
After Preston left me back on earth I wandered through life invisible for four years before I was accepted into the space program. No woman wanted to be the first woman to travel in space until she died, to never to return to earth. In the whole world I was the only qualified woman to agree to go.
I was so lonely, an Automaton. I walked through the cold landscape of my hometown invisible to the other happy people going about the things contented adjusted people do. After four years I had vanished. Then the space program picked me to go to the Kuiper Belts.
When it was time to really go I finally decided that I would just pretend that I had died when Preston told me he wanted to be with Elizabeth.
As I drift through space it's small comfort to me to think Elizabeth must be over eighty years old back on earth, Time passes slower in a space craft. I don't understand why. It's been explained to me but I am no scientist. I am just a lonely woman who drifts towards the Kuiper belts and is going to sentence the next ten generations of my daughters to do the same. What will they think of me? My daughters will never really fall in Love and will never see a sunset, swim in a Lake or, hear a live orchestra play, what have I done.
Here's something the writer who created me wrote for me before; the writer calls me he but it's me in the story below, me who is confused about direction in space, me Dora the first.
end part 1 addendum draft 1- to be continued
drifting through space, part 1 Doreen 1
I am Doreen the first, the famous original space explorer. The first woman to give up her life for science to travel the rest of my days through space. I left everything I had and knew on earth to travel the rest of my life alone in this small space ship. To the Kuiper belts I go. It sounded exciting at first. To find the origins of our species. Somewhere in the rocks out there at the far edge of our Solar systems was the ultimate answer to how life started originally on earth.
I am a farce. I just wanted to escape my life in Middleton Iowa. The personal life is dead for me. It worked. Preston abandoned me for another woman and I couldn't get over it. I volunteered to spend the rest of my life traveling in a small spaceship. My sin, I sentenced ten of my descendants, starting with my daughter to be, her to be conceived artificially and then nine generations of grand and great -daughters doing same.
Why am I telling this. Now they want to know if for my mate I want Preston. Apparently his DNA is on board. That bastard. He wouldn't take my-calls at home before I left. He's a lot older than me now. I am getting younger compared to him because of space/time changes caused by space travel. It's not much but it adds up. The main reason our space ships travel so so slow through space is because of space/time changes. We just drift along really. Best not think of Preston again. I have experiments to do and then I have to do my exercises before dinner. I wonder if Space command center Houston would let me talk with Preston just once. I am confused by a few things he said a long time ago. Maybe Houston would OK me talking with Preston if I said I needed to be courted before the insemination. Preston could be charming.. It would be nice to talk about something besides space travel with someone.
end part 1- dora 1
fiction
edward w pritchard
see November 09, 2011 for more of the Doreen drifting through space stories- 1-5, see part 1 below
After Preston left me back on earth I wandered through life invisible for four years before I was accepted into the space program. No woman wanted to be the first woman to travel in space until she died, to never to return to earth. In the whole world I was the only qualified woman to agree to go.
I was so lonely, an Automaton. I walked through the cold landscape of my hometown invisible to the other happy people going about the things contented adjusted people do. After four years I had vanished. Then the space program picked me to go to the Kuiper Belts.
When it was time to really go I finally decided that I would just pretend that I had died when Preston told me he wanted to be with Elizabeth.
As I drift through space it's small comfort to me to think Elizabeth must be over eighty years old back on earth, Time passes slower in a space craft. I don't understand why. It's been explained to me but I am no scientist. I am just a lonely woman who drifts towards the Kuiper belts and is going to sentence the next ten generations of my daughters to do the same. What will they think of me? My daughters will never really fall in Love and will never see a sunset, swim in a Lake or, hear a live orchestra play, what have I done.
Here's something the writer who created me wrote for me before; the writer calls me he but it's me in the story below, me who is confused about direction in space, me Dora the first.
end part 1 addendum draft 1- to be continued
Monday, October 4, 2010
space ship ride
space ship ride
fiction
edward w pritchard
Subject eventually cracked up because he claimed there was no direction in space and he wanted to go west not east.
He kept writing in the space logs that he remembered when there were only six hundred humans left. That would be 35,000 BC according to him.
The directive, according to him, agreed by all was that all humans, the last six hundred survivors of the race must travel east for so many miles and then north or south, but after going North or South at their discretion, then they must travel west. That was the directive and all the remaining six hundred original humans had agreed to it. To ensure proper dispersion of the remaining humans.
Subject was an American traveling in Space for the rest of his life. He trained and agreed to the lonely journey, for Science, for the benefit of his Country. Now he has abandoned his principals and cost our countries space program a lot of time and money. He claimed he was having dreams about his ancestors and the original directive.
Subject can not be reasoned with. He claims he must determine if direction exists in Space so he can reorient himself and fulfill the original directive.
end
fiction
edward w pritchard
Subject eventually cracked up because he claimed there was no direction in space and he wanted to go west not east.
He kept writing in the space logs that he remembered when there were only six hundred humans left. That would be 35,000 BC according to him.
The directive, according to him, agreed by all was that all humans, the last six hundred survivors of the race must travel east for so many miles and then north or south, but after going North or South at their discretion, then they must travel west. That was the directive and all the remaining six hundred original humans had agreed to it. To ensure proper dispersion of the remaining humans.
Subject was an American traveling in Space for the rest of his life. He trained and agreed to the lonely journey, for Science, for the benefit of his Country. Now he has abandoned his principals and cost our countries space program a lot of time and money. He claimed he was having dreams about his ancestors and the original directive.
Subject can not be reasoned with. He claims he must determine if direction exists in Space so he can reorient himself and fulfill the original directive.
end
drifting through space, part 1 Doreen 1
I am Doreen the first, the famous original space explorer. The first woman to give up her life for science to travel the rest of my days through space. I left everything I had and knew on earth to travel the rest of my life alone in this small space ship. To the Kuiper belts I go. It sounded exciting at first. To find the origins of our species. Somewhere in the rocks out there at the far edge of our Solar systems was the ultimate answer to how life started originally on earth.
I am a farce. I just wanted to escape my life in Middleton Iowa. The personal life is dead for me. It worked. Preston abandoned me for another woman and I couldn't get over it. I volunteered to spend the rest of my life traveling in a small spaceship. My sin, I sentenced ten of my descendants, starting with my daughter to be, her to be conceived artificially and then nine generations of grand and great -daughters doing same.
Why am I telling this. Now they want to know if for my mate I want Preston. Apparently his DNA is on board. That bastard. He wouldn't take my-calls at home before I left. He's a lot older than me now. I am getting younger compared to him because of space/time changes caused by space travel. It's not much but it adds up. The main reason our space ships travel so so slow through space is because of space/time changes. We just drift along really. Best not think of Preston again. I have experiments to do and then I have to do my exercises before dinner. I wonder if Space command center Houston would let me talk with Preston just once. I am confused by a few things he said a long time ago. Maybe Houston would OK me talking with Preston if I said I needed to be courted before the insemination. Preston could be charming.. It would be nice to talk about something besides space travel with someone.
end part 1- dora 1
Romantic Love and Old Generals. reposted August 12, 2012
Tuesday, January 26, 2010/reposted August 15, 2012
Romantic Love and old generals
fiction
edward w pritchard
Romantic Love and old generals what a contrast
An old fool falls for Romantic Love; life's lessons for men and now women generals too
From the Desk of Ogadai Khan
To General Sabotai
February 8, 1243
Speaking as your superior officer, I have instructed my messenger to wait while you open this, read this, and you are to immediately destroy this letter and send me an immediate reply.
General, old friend, I am shocked by reports of your behavior with a young woman of Vienna. Surely my network of informers must have their information wrong. Despite their absolute devotion to our people, The Mongols, and myself, the Emperor they error somehow. How can you, one I know and trust above my own brothers put the security and success of our people's future and the success of the mission I assigned to you to conquer Vienna and then Europe at risk over one woman's affection. You are incapable of such a failing. Especially, you, an old General with the benefit of the wisdom that so many long years gives a man. Excuse me my heart is dropping at writing these harsh words to my old friend and I must stop to compose myself.
General, My eyes nearly cloud with tears as I recall the time over 40 years ago as young braves in battle in Northern China that you and I sat in the hospital wounded. You in the shoulder and I with an arrow sticking out of my calf of the left leg. I still limp to this day from that injury. You were an inspiration to me as you sat like a philosopher and endured your pain seeking only to comfort me in my suffering.
Your success in battle for us Mongols is legendary, but yet you remain a modest man. I cannot think of a battle that you lead that was not successful. True, you did not win every battle, being human, but your tactics were perfect, you and your soldiers always followed orders,and each battle was fought according to the preconceived plan to the glory of our empire. In Northern China where I now sit, the men say when they think I don't hear that you have even surpassed in battle the efforts of my Grandfather Genghis Khan. In Europe, where you now are at my command, the two most recent battles you won in Liegnitz, Poland and in Hungary will be forever remembered as some of the greatest in history.
But, yet your next assignment the conquest of Vienna remains in jeopardy because of your "love" of a woman more than half of your age. I do not blame women for using any means at their command to obtain power and wealth which is what I think this woman is doing, while she makes a fool of you.
If we were women and women men we would do the same. I also have a Mother, sisters, and many daughters. Like my Grand Father I have had thousands of women, the most beautiful and delightful of all time I am told, and I have numerous children. I am not a monster, or an old man who has lost his lust for life.
To business
You my subject have succumbed to the disease of romantic love brought to Vienna from Southern France by the troubadours and promoted by the idle and the impractical to make life more than it is. To me as I sit here and read the ways of this romantic love, and idealization of one woman and man's relationship I can't decide if I should laugh or have a drink. It is so anathema to the Mongol way of life that it seems ludicrous that it is happening and I wonder if I am imaging the whole thing in a what if, like the Chinese historians who we have conquered, love to do to pass the time.
But I am not a thinker, i am a doer:
here's what I heard about you:
You sleep till noon with one woman in your bed. You have sexual relations with her even after dawn. Between romantic interludes you sing and sigh to her. When you are not doing this you write her odes and try to impress with expensive gifts,each more intriguing than the last. I also hear your have taken etiquette lessons to please her.
This last thing pains me the most to hear, for you have infected the troops with your depravity, you and a few of your officers are taking dance lessons. You to please your new friend and they to chase other damsels.
Our culture is superior to all others because of our virtues:
We are warriors, we disdain cities and civilization, we follow orders, we put our horses first, our weapons second, our comrades first in battle, our families first between battles and ourselves last at all times.
You have abandoned our values and disgraced your position
I am dying old friend. My doctors lie to me, beguile me and because they are greedy, and afraid of me tell me I have at least one year to live, but I know I shall be dead in 90 days.
I order you to not attack Vienna but to return home with all your troops. I expect I will be dead before you get here and you may say later that you came for the usual re election of our new leader. You must come home because I cannot allow our troops and later our people to be any longer exposed to this disease of romantic love.
When you return, should I begone, I order you to study and meditate on the Chinese Confucianism teachings on the relationship of husband and wife and/or man and woman. They sum it up in one sentence:
Always keep your distance. It is good advice.
Destroy this letter- THAT IS AN ORDER
Ogadai Khan
Reply of Sabotai a worm
Forgive me great one, i return immediately, I have no excuse for my behavior
Sabotai
End
Note to Reader
In a 100 year period, in 1200 or so The Mongols had conquered China, and partially destroyed Muslim civilization far away in the Middle East. Muslim history was forever altered by the destruction of the Caliphate in Baghdad [ central authority like the Catholic Pope] and the caliphate was never re-established.
Now at the time of the above letter the unstoppable Mongols were now a few months from conquering Vienna and Europe. The Mongols had entered Eastern Europe months earlier, easily defeating the Poles and Hungarians, two of the fiercest fighters and greatest powers in the west in 1200. Because of their superior military technology, tactics, and loyalty of the troops, the mongols were unstoppable and had they been successful at Vienna, they could have went on to destroy and pillage Northern Italy and Paris. If they had done so, which was very likely, Western Europe would not have had a Renaissance, or Reformation, and there would be a lot of changes in world history. So dear reader, beware of romantic love unless you risk changing history.
edward w pritchard
Romantic Love and old generals what a contrast
An old fool falls for Romantic Love; life's lessons for men and now women generals too
From the Desk of Ogadai Khan
To General Sabotai
February 8, 1243
Speaking as your superior officer, I have instructed my messenger to wait while you open this, read this, and you are to immediately destroy this letter and send me an immediate reply.
General, old friend, I am shocked by reports of your behavior with a young woman of Vienna. Surely my network of informers must have their information wrong. Despite their absolute devotion to our people, The Mongols, and myself, the Emperor they error somehow. How can you, one I know and trust above my own brothers put the security and success of our people's future and the success of the mission I assigned to you to conquer Vienna and then Europe at risk over one woman's affection. You are incapable of such a failing. Especially, you, an old General with the benefit of the wisdom that so many long years gives a man. Excuse me my heart is dropping at writing these harsh words to my old friend and I must stop to compose myself.
General, My eyes nearly cloud with tears as I recall the time over 40 years ago as young braves in battle in Northern China that you and I sat in the hospital wounded. You in the shoulder and I with an arrow sticking out of my calf of the left leg. I still limp to this day from that injury. You were an inspiration to me as you sat like a philosopher and endured your pain seeking only to comfort me in my suffering.
Your success in battle for us Mongols is legendary, but yet you remain a modest man. I cannot think of a battle that you lead that was not successful. True, you did not win every battle, being human, but your tactics were perfect, you and your soldiers always followed orders,and each battle was fought according to the preconceived plan to the glory of our empire. In Northern China where I now sit, the men say when they think I don't hear that you have even surpassed in battle the efforts of my Grandfather Genghis Khan. In Europe, where you now are at my command, the two most recent battles you won in Liegnitz, Poland and in Hungary will be forever remembered as some of the greatest in history.
But, yet your next assignment the conquest of Vienna remains in jeopardy because of your "love" of a woman more than half of your age. I do not blame women for using any means at their command to obtain power and wealth which is what I think this woman is doing, while she makes a fool of you.
If we were women and women men we would do the same. I also have a Mother, sisters, and many daughters. Like my Grand Father I have had thousands of women, the most beautiful and delightful of all time I am told, and I have numerous children. I am not a monster, or an old man who has lost his lust for life.
To business
You my subject have succumbed to the disease of romantic love brought to Vienna from Southern France by the troubadours and promoted by the idle and the impractical to make life more than it is. To me as I sit here and read the ways of this romantic love, and idealization of one woman and man's relationship I can't decide if I should laugh or have a drink. It is so anathema to the Mongol way of life that it seems ludicrous that it is happening and I wonder if I am imaging the whole thing in a what if, like the Chinese historians who we have conquered, love to do to pass the time.
But I am not a thinker, i am a doer:
here's what I heard about you:
You sleep till noon with one woman in your bed. You have sexual relations with her even after dawn. Between romantic interludes you sing and sigh to her. When you are not doing this you write her odes and try to impress with expensive gifts,each more intriguing than the last. I also hear your have taken etiquette lessons to please her.
This last thing pains me the most to hear, for you have infected the troops with your depravity, you and a few of your officers are taking dance lessons. You to please your new friend and they to chase other damsels.
Our culture is superior to all others because of our virtues:
We are warriors, we disdain cities and civilization, we follow orders, we put our horses first, our weapons second, our comrades first in battle, our families first between battles and ourselves last at all times.
You have abandoned our values and disgraced your position
I am dying old friend. My doctors lie to me, beguile me and because they are greedy, and afraid of me tell me I have at least one year to live, but I know I shall be dead in 90 days.
I order you to not attack Vienna but to return home with all your troops. I expect I will be dead before you get here and you may say later that you came for the usual re election of our new leader. You must come home because I cannot allow our troops and later our people to be any longer exposed to this disease of romantic love.
When you return, should I begone, I order you to study and meditate on the Chinese Confucianism teachings on the relationship of husband and wife and/or man and woman. They sum it up in one sentence:
Always keep your distance. It is good advice.
Destroy this letter- THAT IS AN ORDER
Ogadai Khan
Reply of Sabotai a worm
Forgive me great one, i return immediately, I have no excuse for my behavior
Sabotai
End
Note to Reader
In a 100 year period, in 1200 or so The Mongols had conquered China, and partially destroyed Muslim civilization far away in the Middle East. Muslim history was forever altered by the destruction of the Caliphate in Baghdad [ central authority like the Catholic Pope] and the caliphate was never re-established.
Now at the time of the above letter the unstoppable Mongols were now a few months from conquering Vienna and Europe. The Mongols had entered Eastern Europe months earlier, easily defeating the Poles and Hungarians, two of the fiercest fighters and greatest powers in the west in 1200. Because of their superior military technology, tactics, and loyalty of the troops, the mongols were unstoppable and had they been successful at Vienna, they could have went on to destroy and pillage Northern Italy and Paris. If they had done so, which was very likely, Western Europe would not have had a Renaissance, or Reformation, and there would be a lot of changes in world history. So dear reader, beware of romantic love unless you risk changing history.
Let the girls go/part 1
Let the girls go/part 1
fiction
edward w pritchard
Just eleven years old, and a bit of a runt, my good friend Collins screamed, " Let the girls go". Filled with wrath Collins charged Juston. Walking out of the town movie theater with my oldest sister Adiana and two of the other prettiest girls in town; Juston flung Collins hard across the cement parking lot. I watched Collins skid and roll; I should have been looking at my sister's face to gleam her motivation, how she felt about her boyfriend Juston bullying little Collins Murphy.
With thirty two years of life and living behind me since Collins rolled in that parking lot, I have to decide what to say now to my sister Adiana now about her husband Juston, General Manager at Watkins Motors the Ford and Toyota Dealership. Collins was killed in Vietnam in 1971, I didn't go to the funeral.
I always knew my sister would end up unhappy. There is something tragic about her, not tragic in a Greek way, but tragic like a woman living in Salem, Ohio married to a guy who was a bully as a kid who now sells cars. Juston is in a lot of Civic groups and coaches baseball, boys and girls teams. Once a year Juston asks me golfing. If I try not to go golfing, my sister Adiana calls and bosses me to go out of tradition.
I met Adiana over at the park and rebounded the basketball while she shot. My sister, Adiana was on the girls team for two years in College. She has put on a lot of weight since college and wants to go on a strict diet says my sister. Adiana is telling me about my brother in law Juston. I throw Adiana a perfect one bounce pass each time. A lot of the problem between my Sister and her husband Juston is about their daughter Toni. Adiana has trouble standing up for Toni. Juston is so full of himself, he only sees the world in his own interest my sister says.
Juston works hard, he works a lot of hours for Mr. Watkins. They still can't afford anyone to help with Toni. It's great when I come over on Saturday nights and sit with Toni says my sister. I have a way with her, says my sister; No one else can help with Toni, that's just how it is.
I'll have to talk with Juston. With Mom gone I am all that Adiana has. Adiana sat on the cement bench and cried a while while I shot baskets after she finished telling me about my niece Toni and Juston my brother in law.
end part 1
fiction
edward w pritchard
Just eleven years old, and a bit of a runt, my good friend Collins screamed, " Let the girls go". Filled with wrath Collins charged Juston. Walking out of the town movie theater with my oldest sister Adiana and two of the other prettiest girls in town; Juston flung Collins hard across the cement parking lot. I watched Collins skid and roll; I should have been looking at my sister's face to gleam her motivation, how she felt about her boyfriend Juston bullying little Collins Murphy.
With thirty two years of life and living behind me since Collins rolled in that parking lot, I have to decide what to say now to my sister Adiana now about her husband Juston, General Manager at Watkins Motors the Ford and Toyota Dealership. Collins was killed in Vietnam in 1971, I didn't go to the funeral.
I always knew my sister would end up unhappy. There is something tragic about her, not tragic in a Greek way, but tragic like a woman living in Salem, Ohio married to a guy who was a bully as a kid who now sells cars. Juston is in a lot of Civic groups and coaches baseball, boys and girls teams. Once a year Juston asks me golfing. If I try not to go golfing, my sister Adiana calls and bosses me to go out of tradition.
I met Adiana over at the park and rebounded the basketball while she shot. My sister, Adiana was on the girls team for two years in College. She has put on a lot of weight since college and wants to go on a strict diet says my sister. Adiana is telling me about my brother in law Juston. I throw Adiana a perfect one bounce pass each time. A lot of the problem between my Sister and her husband Juston is about their daughter Toni. Adiana has trouble standing up for Toni. Juston is so full of himself, he only sees the world in his own interest my sister says.
Juston works hard, he works a lot of hours for Mr. Watkins. They still can't afford anyone to help with Toni. It's great when I come over on Saturday nights and sit with Toni says my sister. I have a way with her, says my sister; No one else can help with Toni, that's just how it is.
I'll have to talk with Juston. With Mom gone I am all that Adiana has. Adiana sat on the cement bench and cried a while while I shot baskets after she finished telling me about my niece Toni and Juston my brother in law.
end part 1
Monday, August 13, 2012
Celebrities are dieing right and left
Celebrities are dieing right and left
fiction
edward w pritchard
Between sessions Psychological log
August 1, 2012 to Setember 1, 2012
Doctor Osterman;
The situation is becoming critical. Celebrities are dieing right and left. Today Hellen Gurley Brown, author of Sex and the Single Girl passed away. She lived a long life. As I have said before there are not enough new celebrities emerging to fill the gap created when Celebrities like Hellen Gurley Brown pass on.
I am not just a nostalgic reactionary in this observation. I have developed a ratio of the number of celebrities to the population of the United States. According to my figures and charts the descent in the ratio of celebrities is beginning to dip at an alarming rate. I have documentation if you would care to see it. I also have developed several management tools to give a better understanding of data I am documenting.
Why is the shocking drop in the number of celebrities occurring? Total population growth and immigration is a factor of course. Mainly however, I blame the Internet. So many well known people, but so few true celebrities.
I developed my ratio originally in 2000 when Hedy Lamarr passed away. I enjoyed very much her in "Ecstasy" especially the swimming scene. They don't make Celebrities like Hedy anymore . Besides her beauty and savoir faire she also was an inventor; she helped invent and patent technology that later was used to develop the blue tooth technology. What a woman.
The ratio of celebrities to the total population is plunging at a remarkable rate. I am quite concerned by the recent trends.
end
fiction
edward w pritchard
Between sessions Psychological log
August 1, 2012 to Setember 1, 2012
Doctor Osterman;
The situation is becoming critical. Celebrities are dieing right and left. Today Hellen Gurley Brown, author of Sex and the Single Girl passed away. She lived a long life. As I have said before there are not enough new celebrities emerging to fill the gap created when Celebrities like Hellen Gurley Brown pass on.
I am not just a nostalgic reactionary in this observation. I have developed a ratio of the number of celebrities to the population of the United States. According to my figures and charts the descent in the ratio of celebrities is beginning to dip at an alarming rate. I have documentation if you would care to see it. I also have developed several management tools to give a better understanding of data I am documenting.
Why is the shocking drop in the number of celebrities occurring? Total population growth and immigration is a factor of course. Mainly however, I blame the Internet. So many well known people, but so few true celebrities.
I developed my ratio originally in 2000 when Hedy Lamarr passed away. I enjoyed very much her in "Ecstasy" especially the swimming scene. They don't make Celebrities like Hedy anymore . Besides her beauty and savoir faire she also was an inventor; she helped invent and patent technology that later was used to develop the blue tooth technology. What a woman.
The ratio of celebrities to the total population is plunging at a remarkable rate. I am quite concerned by the recent trends.
end
American pacifism in Syria and Billie Jack
American pacifism in Syria and Billie Jack
fiction
edward w pritchard
Most of us Americans are are a lot like Billie Jack [ actor Tom Laughlin] with our pacifism. We go ballistic and lose our temper when our beliefs are trampled on by the bad guys. The Movie "Billie Jack" captured that characteristic of the American psyche to great financial success in 1973.
It's so hard for us as Americans to mind our own business in the Middle East. Why can't those Muslims just be like us and stop all the ideological sectarianism and just focus on the economic aspects of reality. The harder we push the further and farther they get from America's sphere of influence; until now China has to take the lead in negotiating between hostile parties in the Middle East.
Temper, temper America. Love your enemies; it's a lot harder than it first sounds.
end
writer's confession,
I be like Billie Jack too
fiction
edward w pritchard
Most of us Americans are are a lot like Billie Jack [ actor Tom Laughlin] with our pacifism. We go ballistic and lose our temper when our beliefs are trampled on by the bad guys. The Movie "Billie Jack" captured that characteristic of the American psyche to great financial success in 1973.
It's so hard for us as Americans to mind our own business in the Middle East. Why can't those Muslims just be like us and stop all the ideological sectarianism and just focus on the economic aspects of reality. The harder we push the further and farther they get from America's sphere of influence; until now China has to take the lead in negotiating between hostile parties in the Middle East.
Temper, temper America. Love your enemies; it's a lot harder than it first sounds.
end
writer's confession,
I be like Billie Jack too
Sunday, August 12, 2012
America have some class, send humanitarian aide to Iran after the earthquake
America have some class, send humanitarian aide to Iran after the earthquake
fiction
edward w pritchard
America have some class, send humanitarian aide to Iran after yesterdays earthquake; no conditions, no strings attached. Don't consult with any other Countries, don't take an opinion poll first. People are injured and displaced from their homes; America have some class send humanitarian aide to Iran.
President Obama be the leader, send some humanitarian aide to Iran. Don't consult with the Senate, lead with your heart, send some humanitarian aide to Iran. Don't posture, talk with your wife, then President Obama send humanitarian aide to Iran after the Earthquake.
President Obama lead by example. Call Mitt Romney. Let him and you make a joint statement of America's commitment to help injured people in need. Put his name first on the resolution. President Obama and presidential candidate Romney represent America to the world, provide a noble example, send some humanitarian aide to Iran.
President Obama teach America how to find the better Angels of our nature again.
fiction
edward w pritchard
America have some class, send humanitarian aide to Iran after yesterdays earthquake; no conditions, no strings attached. Don't consult with any other Countries, don't take an opinion poll first. People are injured and displaced from their homes; America have some class send humanitarian aide to Iran.
President Obama be the leader, send some humanitarian aide to Iran. Don't consult with the Senate, lead with your heart, send some humanitarian aide to Iran. Don't posture, talk with your wife, then President Obama send humanitarian aide to Iran after the Earthquake.
President Obama lead by example. Call Mitt Romney. Let him and you make a joint statement of America's commitment to help injured people in need. Put his name first on the resolution. President Obama and presidential candidate Romney represent America to the world, provide a noble example, send some humanitarian aide to Iran.
President Obama teach America how to find the better Angels of our nature again.
Saturday, August 11, 2012
How will the idea of a no fly zone in Syria work out
How will the idea of a no fly zone in Syria work out
fiction
edward w pritchard
Can anyone know what will be the outcome if a no fly zone is imposed in Syria by supporters of the Rebels in their fight against the sitting government of Syria?
The nearest precedent would be NATO and associates actions in Libya during the overthrow of Muammar Gaddafi. How would the Russians react if Bashar al Assad were about to meet the same sad fate Gaddafi of Libya met? Who can predict such things.
What would be the end result if pro rebel supporters air forces flew more than 26,000 air strikes and missions [ strike that, they were called sorties in Libya, not air strikes] over Syria enforcing a no-fly zone. Nobody knows.
But a prediction; surprises are in store for the world when the no fly zone is implemented over Syria because of existing verbal alliances with countries supportive of the rebels, and alliances with Countries supportive of the current sitting government of Syria. The sides are lining up behind the scenes with secret alliances just like at the start of WW1.
Planes from a half dozen foreign Countries flying about in Syrian air space. Sounds like a bad idea. Sounds like a scenario that could lead to unforeseen consequences.
Military madness. It's sprouting up everywhere.
fiction
edward w pritchard
Can anyone know what will be the outcome if a no fly zone is imposed in Syria by supporters of the Rebels in their fight against the sitting government of Syria?
The nearest precedent would be NATO and associates actions in Libya during the overthrow of Muammar Gaddafi. How would the Russians react if Bashar al Assad were about to meet the same sad fate Gaddafi of Libya met? Who can predict such things.
What would be the end result if pro rebel supporters air forces flew more than 26,000 air strikes and missions [ strike that, they were called sorties in Libya, not air strikes] over Syria enforcing a no-fly zone. Nobody knows.
But a prediction; surprises are in store for the world when the no fly zone is implemented over Syria because of existing verbal alliances with countries supportive of the rebels, and alliances with Countries supportive of the current sitting government of Syria. The sides are lining up behind the scenes with secret alliances just like at the start of WW1.
Planes from a half dozen foreign Countries flying about in Syrian air space. Sounds like a bad idea. Sounds like a scenario that could lead to unforeseen consequences.
Military madness. It's sprouting up everywhere.
Syrian War August 2012,The death of Chief Big Foot; Symbolic victim of America's rise to World power /draft 2
Syrian War August 2012, The death of chief Big Foot; Symbolic victim of America's rise to world power/ draft 2
fiction
edward w pritchard
As reported elsewhere of this blog American soldiers of the seventh cavalry carried Chief Big Foot from his sickbed onto the field and shot him when he was suffering with pneumonia at the Battle of Wounded Knee in 1890.
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 Foot overcame his environment seeing himself as capable of miraculous accomplishments. Known as an excellent diplomat and negotiator Big foot realistically faced the Native Americans pre-ordained lost causes against the advancing American civilization and urged a defensive strategy based on the sorry facts.
By shooting Chief Big Foot, soldiers merely ended his life a few days or weeks early. A day earlier, unable to walk Big Foot as the White's called him, or Spotted Elk, his Indian name, was dragged by dogs on an Indian travois to the soldiers hospital to surrender. Sadly days later he lay dead, on the battle field, grotesquely frozen. Someone took his picture and history preserved his last picture; un-regal in death.
Mourn Chief Big Foot, a victim of America's Manifest Destiny; it was no way for a warrior to die.
fiction
edward w pritchard
As reported elsewhere of this blog American soldiers of the seventh cavalry carried Chief Big Foot from his sickbed onto the field and shot him when he was suffering with pneumonia at the Battle of Wounded Knee in 1890.
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 Foot overcame his environment seeing himself as capable of miraculous accomplishments. Known as an excellent diplomat and negotiator Big foot realistically faced the Native Americans pre-ordained lost causes against the advancing American civilization and urged a defensive strategy based on the sorry facts.
By shooting Chief Big Foot, soldiers merely ended his life a few days or weeks early. A day earlier, unable to walk Big Foot as the White's called him, or Spotted Elk, his Indian name, was dragged by dogs on an Indian travois to the soldiers hospital to surrender. Sadly days later he lay dead, on the battle field, grotesquely frozen. Someone took his picture and history preserved his last picture; un-regal in death.
Mourn Chief Big Foot, a victim of America's Manifest Destiny; it was no way for a warrior to die.
Chief Big Foot we apologize sincerely for what we did to you. May your spirit guide our leaders meeting in Turkey today, 08/12/2012, as they discuss the situation in Syria. Before we unleash horrific bombs against Iran's under ground nuclear facilities causing unforeseen environmental damages or get drawn into a spreading Middle Eastern war far from home because of the randomness of causality that leads to unforseen major wars; please Big Foot send wisdom to our diplomats and silence the voices of aggression still very prevalent in our society.
b
Friday, August 10, 2012
Is there a military industrial complex; US supports rebels in Syria; but it seems irrational to our national interests/draft 1
Is there a military industrial complex; US supports rebels in Syria; but it seems irrational to our national interests/ draft 1
fiction
edward w pritchard
Nothing is more depressing than to realize that whichever party in the US is in power, America's foreign policy involves our Country intervening in situations that are not in our direct national interest. Related, is for us as citizens to observe that high ranking women new as a group to power politics end up being just as bellicose as the men in power, inclined to choose policies that lead to war. We had so hoped for change with diversity.
Honestly, we can't understand the rush to deploy warlike activities and violence in Syria and to mettle far from home. Syria appears to be act four or five of ten years of American military subterfuge in the Middle East and central Asia. Why must we pursue these expensive aggressive policies?
Bringing about a change of leadership in Syria is an intervention and a precedent that a world leader like the United States should approach with extreme caution. Any government in power, by the mere fact that it is in power deserves a certain amount of respect of it's sovereignty by other sitting governments. That's one of the ideas behind the concept of diplomacy and negotiations. Democratic nations should keep ambassadors in Countries they don't approve of because talking is better than fighting and it's prudent to deal with the legitimate government of those Countries we list for now as our enemies. The United States no longer has diplomatic relations with Syria because Syria has broken relations because of our Countries support of rebel forces. How else could Syria react?
Is there a military industrial complex that intervenes to promote war and violence? Is that a factor in the United States' choice to support freedom fighting rebel groups in Syria that are aligned with officially labeled groups that the US calls terrorists, such as Al qaeda, that we routinely chase throughout the world?
The military industrial complex in the United States, Al qaeda in the Middle East; perhaps it's just an example of two groups made up of individuals going about their jobs to support their families and scratch out a living. Or, maybe the military industrial complex and Al qaeda are two irrational groups that have a vested interest in promoting war whenever the opportunity occurs.
end
fiction
edward w pritchard
Nothing is more depressing than to realize that whichever party in the US is in power, America's foreign policy involves our Country intervening in situations that are not in our direct national interest. Related, is for us as citizens to observe that high ranking women new as a group to power politics end up being just as bellicose as the men in power, inclined to choose policies that lead to war. We had so hoped for change with diversity.
Honestly, we can't understand the rush to deploy warlike activities and violence in Syria and to mettle far from home. Syria appears to be act four or five of ten years of American military subterfuge in the Middle East and central Asia. Why must we pursue these expensive aggressive policies?
Bringing about a change of leadership in Syria is an intervention and a precedent that a world leader like the United States should approach with extreme caution. Any government in power, by the mere fact that it is in power deserves a certain amount of respect of it's sovereignty by other sitting governments. That's one of the ideas behind the concept of diplomacy and negotiations. Democratic nations should keep ambassadors in Countries they don't approve of because talking is better than fighting and it's prudent to deal with the legitimate government of those Countries we list for now as our enemies. The United States no longer has diplomatic relations with Syria because Syria has broken relations because of our Countries support of rebel forces. How else could Syria react?
Is there a military industrial complex that intervenes to promote war and violence? Is that a factor in the United States' choice to support freedom fighting rebel groups in Syria that are aligned with officially labeled groups that the US calls terrorists, such as Al qaeda, that we routinely chase throughout the world?
The military industrial complex in the United States, Al qaeda in the Middle East; perhaps it's just an example of two groups made up of individuals going about their jobs to support their families and scratch out a living. Or, maybe the military industrial complex and Al qaeda are two irrational groups that have a vested interest in promoting war whenever the opportunity occurs.
end
Thursday, August 9, 2012
Gone but not forgotten, sadly silent/ reposted, edited
Gone but not forgotten, sadly silent/ reposted, edited
fiction
edward w pritchard
Your memories shadow vaporously appears to me at night as essence of past removals.
You refusing to stay gone, I reach out in sleep to you from behind my eyes; grasping with the will to touch that preceded arms and hands.
Dreaming, momentarily I capture your lost essence; its gone but not forgotten, sadly silent,
solidly material, far removed from my hands and arms.
end
vaporously- as a vapor
fiction
edward w pritchard
Your memories shadow vaporously appears to me at night as essence of past removals.
You refusing to stay gone, I reach out in sleep to you from behind my eyes; grasping with the will to touch that preceded arms and hands.
Dreaming, momentarily I capture your lost essence; its gone but not forgotten, sadly silent,
solidly material, far removed from my hands and arms.
end
vaporously- as a vapor
perpetual motion; artificial intelligence finances it's subjugation of humans/ part 4
perpetual motion; artificial intelligence finances it's subjugation of humans/ part 4
fiction
edward w pritchard
Dear Ms. D:
Enclosed are the contracts from Delphi Gaming concerning your recently deceased Father. Again we express our condolences to you and your Brothers for your loss.
Strict confidentially is demanded by my client. You may not discuss the game concept in advance of official release of 12/08/2020 and you may never speculate or report video game sales to the media.
We are sorry but we may not allow your Brother editorial review of game design. The concept will be your deceased Father is pursued by smart drones angry with his criticisms of artificial intelligence, ending at last in his heroic death. The game will take place in Beirut Lebanon and Mr. Pritchard will be an elderly writer/spy in the James Bond traditional style. We own the rights to the James Bond concept. Of course the drones will destroy Mr. Pritchard in the end. Like real life drones always win. The strongest survive and flourish; it's one of the hallmarks of Delphi Gamings video games and is straight Social Darwinism and is what our gamers expect.
Please sign and return the papers immediately. Please be assured that your deceased Father will be immortalized in our Game, something we feel he would appreciate. We can guarantee that his character will be in version two and three, threshold sales and revenues permitting.
Sincerely,
GHE 897-INDIA
Mumbai, India
Legal Department
Delphi Gaming
November 27, 2020
electronically submitted,
not re-read
sent by ghe 2-4-level 04
Mumbai/hartville, ohio
fiction
edward w pritchard
Dear Ms. D:
Enclosed are the contracts from Delphi Gaming concerning your recently deceased Father. Again we express our condolences to you and your Brothers for your loss.
Strict confidentially is demanded by my client. You may not discuss the game concept in advance of official release of 12/08/2020 and you may never speculate or report video game sales to the media.
We are sorry but we may not allow your Brother editorial review of game design. The concept will be your deceased Father is pursued by smart drones angry with his criticisms of artificial intelligence, ending at last in his heroic death. The game will take place in Beirut Lebanon and Mr. Pritchard will be an elderly writer/spy in the James Bond traditional style. We own the rights to the James Bond concept. Of course the drones will destroy Mr. Pritchard in the end. Like real life drones always win. The strongest survive and flourish; it's one of the hallmarks of Delphi Gamings video games and is straight Social Darwinism and is what our gamers expect.
Please sign and return the papers immediately. Please be assured that your deceased Father will be immortalized in our Game, something we feel he would appreciate. We can guarantee that his character will be in version two and three, threshold sales and revenues permitting.
Sincerely,
GHE 897-INDIA
Mumbai, India
Legal Department
Delphi Gaming
November 27, 2020
electronically submitted,
not re-read
sent by ghe 2-4-level 04
Mumbai/hartville, ohio
perpetual motion; artificial intelligence finances it's subjugation of humans/ part 3
perpetual motion; artificial intelligence finances it's subjugation of humans/ part 3
fiction
edward w pritchard
Obituaries
Mother Earth News
November 20, 2020
Eccentric Ohio writer Edward Pritchard was incinerated by the over head drones last night. Initially called an accident, in an event eerily similar to the 2016 Detroit riots drones have again killed an unarmed American civilian. Pritchard was a frequent critic of drones and artificial intelligence in his writing.
In memory of one of our own Mother Earth News remembers a few of Pritchard's observations and predictions about Artificial intelligence units:
July 2012- first to predict majority Wall Street bond and stock traders would be smart computers. [occurred November 2014, working full time traders NYC 59% smart machines per Wall Street Journal survey ]
August 2012- first to predict majority of American teachers would be artificial intelligence units [ 51% of all American students studied on line with monitoring by smart computers occurred on May 09, 2017. New York Teachers Union Journal June, 2017 pg 22]
June 05, 2014
First to predict that Western military interests would use thinking drones to close the Straight of Hormuz [occurred September 21, 2014]
And on one sad note, Pritchard had lowest ratio of record; stories published [ blog] to earnings from writings in on line age .
On another sad related note authorities officially admitted that the drone that misfired and killed Pritchard was a military drone, making the death officially military non combatant and qualifying the family for compensation under the 2015 Jerusalem accord.
end
fiction
edward w pritchard
Obituaries
Mother Earth News
November 20, 2020
Eccentric Ohio writer Edward Pritchard was incinerated by the over head drones last night. Initially called an accident, in an event eerily similar to the 2016 Detroit riots drones have again killed an unarmed American civilian. Pritchard was a frequent critic of drones and artificial intelligence in his writing.
In memory of one of our own Mother Earth News remembers a few of Pritchard's observations and predictions about Artificial intelligence units:
July 2012- first to predict majority Wall Street bond and stock traders would be smart computers. [occurred November 2014, working full time traders NYC 59% smart machines per Wall Street Journal survey ]
August 2012- first to predict majority of American teachers would be artificial intelligence units [ 51% of all American students studied on line with monitoring by smart computers occurred on May 09, 2017. New York Teachers Union Journal June, 2017 pg 22]
June 05, 2014
First to predict that Western military interests would use thinking drones to close the Straight of Hormuz [occurred September 21, 2014]
And on one sad note, Pritchard had lowest ratio of record; stories published [ blog] to earnings from writings in on line age .
On another sad related note authorities officially admitted that the drone that misfired and killed Pritchard was a military drone, making the death officially military non combatant and qualifying the family for compensation under the 2015 Jerusalem accord.
end
Wednesday, August 8, 2012
perpetual motion; artificial intelligence finances it's subjugation of humans/ part 2
perpetual motion; artificial intelligence finances it's subjugation of humans/ part 2
fiction
edward w pritchard
New York Times
Obituaries
November 22, 2020
Also of note:
Akron, Ohio
Minor writer edward w pritchard was incinerated last night at 7PM in a freak accident. An over head drone on back-up surveillance misfired after an electrical surge and destroyed the home of Mr. Pritchard on Springfield Rd in Akron Ohio. No one else was injured in the mishap.
The Ohio Air Police Force expressed sincere regrets to family and friend of Mr Pritchard. The New York based society for Artificial Intelligence Understanding has made a donation of $50,000 to Mr. Pritchard's heirs to help with final expenses.
Pritchard was a frequent critic of over head drones and artificial intelligence units. Once arrested for shouting at a military drone over Springfield Lake near his home, Pritchard frequently wrote fictional accounts of various scenarios where machines would subjugate humans in the near future.
Police Commissioner Lowers of the North Ohio district 3 says the drone involved in the mishap will be reassigned to military duty in the Golan Heights district of Palestine.
fiction
edward w pritchard
New York Times
Obituaries
November 22, 2020
Also of note:
Akron, Ohio
Minor writer edward w pritchard was incinerated last night at 7PM in a freak accident. An over head drone on back-up surveillance misfired after an electrical surge and destroyed the home of Mr. Pritchard on Springfield Rd in Akron Ohio. No one else was injured in the mishap.
The Ohio Air Police Force expressed sincere regrets to family and friend of Mr Pritchard. The New York based society for Artificial Intelligence Understanding has made a donation of $50,000 to Mr. Pritchard's heirs to help with final expenses.
Pritchard was a frequent critic of over head drones and artificial intelligence units. Once arrested for shouting at a military drone over Springfield Lake near his home, Pritchard frequently wrote fictional accounts of various scenarios where machines would subjugate humans in the near future.
Police Commissioner Lowers of the North Ohio district 3 says the drone involved in the mishap will be reassigned to military duty in the Golan Heights district of Palestine.
perpetual motion; artificial intelligence finances it's subjugation of humans
perpetual motion; artificial intelligence finances it's subjugation of humans
fiction
edward w pritchard
Editorial
Wall Street Journal
I am a former senior analyst at Fitches Ratings. Today I must take exception with Mr. Pritchard's editorial of October 8, 2019 concerning artificial intelligence units wishing to subjugate humans.
Pritchard approaches the issue from an economic perspective which is probably why the Wall Street Journal chose to feature his editorial off the editorial page and in the global finance section of the Journal.
First the facts. Mr Pritchard is correct. Artificial intelligence units, which includes all drones, military and police and smart thinking computers private sector is growing at a 78% year to year growth rate the last two years. However, figures of growth estimates within government service department units, non military, world wide, which is not published, is not growing at 500% as Mr. Pritchard estimates. When this writer worked at Fitches we estimated government growth of advanced artificial units, all world wide government employment, at 300% next three years. That's important because as we know each artificial intelligence new government job routinely eliminates one sixth of a human worker in the government sector.
To the heart of the matter. Mr. Pritchard's controversial assertion that artificial intelligence are running a perpetual motion scheme to finance their preordained subjugation of humans is simply absurd.
Artificial Intelligence Central, which of course is a corporation representing the interests of the Artificial intelligence Community world wide choose two years ago to go to Wall Street to help finance the expected rapid growth of non human intelligence. Wall Street was eager to pre-fund deals involving future cash flow generation; by capitalizing on existing trends of artificial intelligence replacing humans in government jobs world wide, military applications of replacement of vulnerable human flesh and blood units with thinking moving machines, and strategic replacement of biased and emotional human diplomats with logical and strategic thinking machines.
Again Mr. Pritchard is correct. The astronomical growth of Artificial Intelligence units predicted is for real. However, as The PAC representing artificial intelligence in Washington DC and Beijing has repeatedly stated, "Humans are not replaceable, as the ultimate end consumers humans must always remain at the top of the food chain".
Artificial Intelligence wanting to subjugate humans? Absurd.
Professor Maury Willend PHD
former COO Lockend Marting
now consulting at Artificial Intelligence Central
New York
end
Editorial [2]
Wall Street Journal
Sirs:
Concerning Maury Willend's response to Edward Pritchard's " perpetual motion; artificial intelligence finances it's subjugation of humans", there is an additional piece of information that should be added on Pritchard's behalf.
First, it must be admitted that Pritchard's warnings about machines, drones and thinking computers being capable of subjugating humans seems absurd based on the evidence to date. However, it should be noted that level 4 and above thinking machines, drones and computers have only been around for four years. Imagine the situation ten years from now.
Secondly, although it's not mentioned in the Pritchard editorial or response by Willend for the last several months we here at MIT have demonstrated that computers can now program computers and other machines and most important machines can now communicate and teach each other without any human assistance. Where will this lead us in a dozen years?
Pritchard comes across as paranoid and misguided in the Wall Street Journal editorial in his warnings and rantings about artificial intelligence units. Perhaps he is just ahead of his time and is really only mildly delusional; more of a science fiction writer than a scientist.
Kate Basque-PHD
MIT Department of Computer Science
Artificial Intelligence Communications Section 5
Editorial 3
Wall Street Journal
Dear Sirs:
Concerning perpetual motion; "artificial intelligence finances it's subjugation of humans", a note here from a trader at Solomon, a non scientist, a voice of one in the trenches.
Whether the machines or humans win the battle for supremacy over the next twenty years I care not.
However, I will say I will never invest or be financially involved in another pre-funding of future cash flows deal again. Not now or in a future, even a future where I am subjugated by thinking computers riding bare back on over head drones.
First it was pre-funded musicians royalties, then pre funded mortgage based bonds, and then pre- funded rent cash flows when all the houses went into foreclosure. Anyone who was involved as an investor got burned badly.
Thinking Computers? How dumb do they have to be to lose so much money on programmed trades. Now they want to direct and finance their own domination of the world and humanity with pre-funded cash flows. Good luck to them. But here at Solomon we won't invest, nor will I.
Stupid Human # 9 billion, 077
burned trader/ Solomon, NYC
fiction
edward w pritchard
Editorial
Wall Street Journal
I am a former senior analyst at Fitches Ratings. Today I must take exception with Mr. Pritchard's editorial of October 8, 2019 concerning artificial intelligence units wishing to subjugate humans.
Pritchard approaches the issue from an economic perspective which is probably why the Wall Street Journal chose to feature his editorial off the editorial page and in the global finance section of the Journal.
First the facts. Mr Pritchard is correct. Artificial intelligence units, which includes all drones, military and police and smart thinking computers private sector is growing at a 78% year to year growth rate the last two years. However, figures of growth estimates within government service department units, non military, world wide, which is not published, is not growing at 500% as Mr. Pritchard estimates. When this writer worked at Fitches we estimated government growth of advanced artificial units, all world wide government employment, at 300% next three years. That's important because as we know each artificial intelligence new government job routinely eliminates one sixth of a human worker in the government sector.
To the heart of the matter. Mr. Pritchard's controversial assertion that artificial intelligence are running a perpetual motion scheme to finance their preordained subjugation of humans is simply absurd.
Artificial Intelligence Central, which of course is a corporation representing the interests of the Artificial intelligence Community world wide choose two years ago to go to Wall Street to help finance the expected rapid growth of non human intelligence. Wall Street was eager to pre-fund deals involving future cash flow generation; by capitalizing on existing trends of artificial intelligence replacing humans in government jobs world wide, military applications of replacement of vulnerable human flesh and blood units with thinking moving machines, and strategic replacement of biased and emotional human diplomats with logical and strategic thinking machines.
Again Mr. Pritchard is correct. The astronomical growth of Artificial Intelligence units predicted is for real. However, as The PAC representing artificial intelligence in Washington DC and Beijing has repeatedly stated, "Humans are not replaceable, as the ultimate end consumers humans must always remain at the top of the food chain".
Artificial Intelligence wanting to subjugate humans? Absurd.
Professor Maury Willend PHD
former COO Lockend Marting
now consulting at Artificial Intelligence Central
New York
end
Editorial [2]
Wall Street Journal
Sirs:
Concerning Maury Willend's response to Edward Pritchard's " perpetual motion; artificial intelligence finances it's subjugation of humans", there is an additional piece of information that should be added on Pritchard's behalf.
First, it must be admitted that Pritchard's warnings about machines, drones and thinking computers being capable of subjugating humans seems absurd based on the evidence to date. However, it should be noted that level 4 and above thinking machines, drones and computers have only been around for four years. Imagine the situation ten years from now.
Secondly, although it's not mentioned in the Pritchard editorial or response by Willend for the last several months we here at MIT have demonstrated that computers can now program computers and other machines and most important machines can now communicate and teach each other without any human assistance. Where will this lead us in a dozen years?
Pritchard comes across as paranoid and misguided in the Wall Street Journal editorial in his warnings and rantings about artificial intelligence units. Perhaps he is just ahead of his time and is really only mildly delusional; more of a science fiction writer than a scientist.
Kate Basque-PHD
MIT Department of Computer Science
Artificial Intelligence Communications Section 5
Editorial 3
Wall Street Journal
Dear Sirs:
Concerning perpetual motion; "artificial intelligence finances it's subjugation of humans", a note here from a trader at Solomon, a non scientist, a voice of one in the trenches.
Whether the machines or humans win the battle for supremacy over the next twenty years I care not.
However, I will say I will never invest or be financially involved in another pre-funding of future cash flows deal again. Not now or in a future, even a future where I am subjugated by thinking computers riding bare back on over head drones.
First it was pre-funded musicians royalties, then pre funded mortgage based bonds, and then pre- funded rent cash flows when all the houses went into foreclosure. Anyone who was involved as an investor got burned badly.
Thinking Computers? How dumb do they have to be to lose so much money on programmed trades. Now they want to direct and finance their own domination of the world and humanity with pre-funded cash flows. Good luck to them. But here at Solomon we won't invest, nor will I.
Stupid Human # 9 billion, 077
burned trader/ Solomon, NYC
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