Prince William's paternity leave, John Lennon bakes bread, Anthony Bourdain obtains wisdom
fiction
edward w pritchard
Prince William takes a paternity leave, John Lennon bakes bread, or Anthony Bourdain has a daughter and obtains wisdom. Which action was of the greatest social significance?
Prince William has a new son and decides to take two weeks off to be with Mother and child. He forgoes the customary remuneration; he doesn't need the money.
John Lennon so he said stayed home on Manhattan's upper west side and took care of his son and learned to bake bread.
Anthony Bourdain has a daughter and integrates the loose ends of his self, continues to evolve and obtains some measure of wisdom. His latest show on CNN exposes American viewers to the world from an angle seldom seen on network television.
Which man has influenced human kind the most?
Too soon to tell with Prince William, he is pure potential at this point. John Lennon died too soon, his demons still too much alive at his untimely death.
Anthony Bourdain wins a CLIO which is given to individuals who are changing the world by encouraging people to think differently. Moving beyond eating, drinking and being merry the Chef evolves.
History comes from the future to the present in this question of which man influenced human kind the most. The future shall proclaim an answer later.
Wednesday, July 31, 2013
retirement job, america circa 2025
retirement job, America circa 2025
fiction
edward w pritchard
I was extremely lucky to get the job with the City of Barberton when I was sixty eight years old over at the train station along the canal and the River. I sleep in a small train observation station along the tracks about ten by ten feet square. I am luckier than most for after the hyper inflation of 2018 wiped out pensions and savings most of us are happy with a roof over our heads and any source of income is welcome for the young in America do not much condone the elderly working.
I monitor the trains as they run west toward California carrying rocks and other hard commodities like pieces of cement, slag and anythings that can be converted to fuel in China. China is literally buying the complete terrain of America. Various types of rocks are stripped off American land sides put on trains and then rumble across America to be shipped to China to be manufactured into alternate fuel sources; for oil is now scarce. I said I monitor trains but actually my main job is to watch the pieces of stone and rock that line the sides along the railroad track. They are very valuable and many people are tempted to steal them. They are needed to cushion the vibration of the heavy trains, as no other source is available that works as well as a cushion, but they are valuable for export , one small rock being worth ten dollars, a small fortune to the poor in these difficult times. To guard the rocks along the track I carry a rifle and am sad to report I have killed at least twenty people in the last year alone many women and some young teenage children. I sympathize with their poverty and misery but since I wish to live I must do my job to survive.
Last Thursday I was walking at the extreme Southern edge of my territory in a woody area along the River and my back was to a fence that extended in front of and behind me for about a half mile. It is out along the old lime and molybdenum pits formerly kept by a large Barberton industrial chemical concern. About fifty thousands deer were coming down the hill, eastward from near the high tension towers jumping the fence mostly, although it was soon torn down, and heading dead East. I was not alarmed by the large herds of animals because sometimes mass groups of animals were rounded up, driven to a slaughter station and then shipped to China or India by Cargill Corporation. Myriad other kinds of animals in very great numbers and herds were following the deer, including rabbits, woodchucks, dogs, and numerous other kinds of animals native to America and not yet extinct. Two extremely large military helicopters of the G class, the green monsters, were driving the animals presumably to the stations south of Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania to be slaughtered and shipped to China and India for food.
The first helicopter when it saw me tasered me with a DNA scan and I collapsed to the ground. Luckily I guess, my DNA record was clean because they did not kill me, although the second helicopter circled once. They flew off and let me alone and I wasn't mortally injured by the helicopters or by the movement of the animals.
Later, I got a small workers compensation award for the DNA taser scan, with an apology, since I work for the railroad, a quasi government agency. With the Workers comp ward of $750 I am going to buy a battery powered DVD player so I can watch old television shows in my hut when off duty.
The apology of sorts I got from the helicopter pilots and crew that tasered me was some fresh possum meat from the Pittsburgh slaughter plant that they commandeered before it was shipped off to the Orient. The helicopter crews and I both are civil service, section 96, supplying hard goods to China and I heard they felt bad about DNA tasering one of their own, for it is a very painful process.
end
fiction
edward w pritchard
I was extremely lucky to get the job with the City of Barberton when I was sixty eight years old over at the train station along the canal and the River. I sleep in a small train observation station along the tracks about ten by ten feet square. I am luckier than most for after the hyper inflation of 2018 wiped out pensions and savings most of us are happy with a roof over our heads and any source of income is welcome for the young in America do not much condone the elderly working.
I monitor the trains as they run west toward California carrying rocks and other hard commodities like pieces of cement, slag and anythings that can be converted to fuel in China. China is literally buying the complete terrain of America. Various types of rocks are stripped off American land sides put on trains and then rumble across America to be shipped to China to be manufactured into alternate fuel sources; for oil is now scarce. I said I monitor trains but actually my main job is to watch the pieces of stone and rock that line the sides along the railroad track. They are very valuable and many people are tempted to steal them. They are needed to cushion the vibration of the heavy trains, as no other source is available that works as well as a cushion, but they are valuable for export , one small rock being worth ten dollars, a small fortune to the poor in these difficult times. To guard the rocks along the track I carry a rifle and am sad to report I have killed at least twenty people in the last year alone many women and some young teenage children. I sympathize with their poverty and misery but since I wish to live I must do my job to survive.
Last Thursday I was walking at the extreme Southern edge of my territory in a woody area along the River and my back was to a fence that extended in front of and behind me for about a half mile. It is out along the old lime and molybdenum pits formerly kept by a large Barberton industrial chemical concern. About fifty thousands deer were coming down the hill, eastward from near the high tension towers jumping the fence mostly, although it was soon torn down, and heading dead East. I was not alarmed by the large herds of animals because sometimes mass groups of animals were rounded up, driven to a slaughter station and then shipped to China or India by Cargill Corporation. Myriad other kinds of animals in very great numbers and herds were following the deer, including rabbits, woodchucks, dogs, and numerous other kinds of animals native to America and not yet extinct. Two extremely large military helicopters of the G class, the green monsters, were driving the animals presumably to the stations south of Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania to be slaughtered and shipped to China and India for food.
The first helicopter when it saw me tasered me with a DNA scan and I collapsed to the ground. Luckily I guess, my DNA record was clean because they did not kill me, although the second helicopter circled once. They flew off and let me alone and I wasn't mortally injured by the helicopters or by the movement of the animals.
Later, I got a small workers compensation award for the DNA taser scan, with an apology, since I work for the railroad, a quasi government agency. With the Workers comp ward of $750 I am going to buy a battery powered DVD player so I can watch old television shows in my hut when off duty.
The apology of sorts I got from the helicopter pilots and crew that tasered me was some fresh possum meat from the Pittsburgh slaughter plant that they commandeered before it was shipped off to the Orient. The helicopter crews and I both are civil service, section 96, supplying hard goods to China and I heard they felt bad about DNA tasering one of their own, for it is a very painful process.
end
manuevers in Kent Ohio
maneuvers in Kent Ohio
fiction
edward w pritchard
August 30, 2013 the US army, navy seals and the marines sealed off the City of Kent, Ohio at 9AM and didn't allow any of the citizens to move about. The military made no efforts to be civil or explain, only expediently going about their duties and goals for the day. Roads were blocked, the express way was closed and my Grand daughter and I were detained as were thousands of others. Local police and fire were not notified before hand and were in fact detained by the military, as was the city manager, counsel and numerous prominent business leaders and faculty at Kent State University.
The military personnel were not fat, polite, comical or helpful. Soldiers were well armed and came from far away from an unfamiliar part of America, perhaps Idaho. Within moments the entire city of Kent was occupied and business, commerce and everyday life was interrupted. Local radio, television and newspaper and Internet from nearby Akron, Cleveland and other places was blocked and in a matter of minutes no news or information was allowed into or out of Kent.
Over two hundred green military buses held detainees, of which I and my grand daughter were two of many and large green military helicopters patrolled the air over all of Portage County, where Kent is located. Individual soldiers wore infectious disease retarding masks and vests and randomly checked residents for various viruses.
Human soldiers were assisted by two to three hundred overhead flying drones of various sizes and various levels of technological sophistication. Although drones did not fire on any citizens of Kent they did address miscreants at times with vocal beeps and assorted warnings sounds to assist human soldiers with crowd control.
After about an hour, once the point was properly made the military immediately disappeared, without explanation or apology and the citizens were able to resume normal movement about their homeland. Four years later in Congressional hearings on the matter it was a point of pride with the military that professional soldiers and drones were able to secure an entire town without one civilian death and comparison was made to the May 4, 1970 shootings in which a semi professional home guard [Ohio National Guard] shot and killed four unarmed students in a campus demonstration.
fiction
edward w pritchard
August 30, 2013 the US army, navy seals and the marines sealed off the City of Kent, Ohio at 9AM and didn't allow any of the citizens to move about. The military made no efforts to be civil or explain, only expediently going about their duties and goals for the day. Roads were blocked, the express way was closed and my Grand daughter and I were detained as were thousands of others. Local police and fire were not notified before hand and were in fact detained by the military, as was the city manager, counsel and numerous prominent business leaders and faculty at Kent State University.
The military personnel were not fat, polite, comical or helpful. Soldiers were well armed and came from far away from an unfamiliar part of America, perhaps Idaho. Within moments the entire city of Kent was occupied and business, commerce and everyday life was interrupted. Local radio, television and newspaper and Internet from nearby Akron, Cleveland and other places was blocked and in a matter of minutes no news or information was allowed into or out of Kent.
Over two hundred green military buses held detainees, of which I and my grand daughter were two of many and large green military helicopters patrolled the air over all of Portage County, where Kent is located. Individual soldiers wore infectious disease retarding masks and vests and randomly checked residents for various viruses.
Human soldiers were assisted by two to three hundred overhead flying drones of various sizes and various levels of technological sophistication. Although drones did not fire on any citizens of Kent they did address miscreants at times with vocal beeps and assorted warnings sounds to assist human soldiers with crowd control.
After about an hour, once the point was properly made the military immediately disappeared, without explanation or apology and the citizens were able to resume normal movement about their homeland. Four years later in Congressional hearings on the matter it was a point of pride with the military that professional soldiers and drones were able to secure an entire town without one civilian death and comparison was made to the May 4, 1970 shootings in which a semi professional home guard [Ohio National Guard] shot and killed four unarmed students in a campus demonstration.
Sunday, July 28, 2013
the cynics apothecary, the birds and the bees
the cynics apothecary, the birds and the bees
fiction
edward w pritchard
No one ever heard the official version of the birds and the bees. Instead other metaphors are used for nature and where we came from.
Originally elemental matter is made by nuclear reactions in stars. Before the elements, stars were made by gravity spinning nothingness. About twelve billion years later matter became plants and eventually blackberries bursted with moistful temporariness before dropping as dried pons into the earth. From the soil flowering weedish trees sent blooming flowers, colored delicious pinks, advertising skyward inner mysterious folds of potentiality.
Thereafter all plants have a brief magnificent explosive blooming. Later hostas emerged which could be easily split with even the smaller half surviving the disruption. Hosatas avoided the sunlight preferring dark low shady ground seldom blooming, being ignored by bees and birds.
fiction
edward w pritchard
No one ever heard the official version of the birds and the bees. Instead other metaphors are used for nature and where we came from.
Originally elemental matter is made by nuclear reactions in stars. Before the elements, stars were made by gravity spinning nothingness. About twelve billion years later matter became plants and eventually blackberries bursted with moistful temporariness before dropping as dried pons into the earth. From the soil flowering weedish trees sent blooming flowers, colored delicious pinks, advertising skyward inner mysterious folds of potentiality.
Thereafter all plants have a brief magnificent explosive blooming. Later hostas emerged which could be easily split with even the smaller half surviving the disruption. Hosatas avoided the sunlight preferring dark low shady ground seldom blooming, being ignored by bees and birds.
food porn, crunchy salt pork lilly/ parts 2 and 1
Food porn, crunchy salt pork lilly/ parts 2 and 1
fiction
edward w pritchard
part 2
It's the taste of the past and the sensation of dry husky shards tearing at your teeth and jaws is not remembered so much as recollected, more like squinting to see a faint star in space rather than staring straight at it. Crunchy salt pork lilly is so good to snack on. Ask any ex hill billy their preferred last meal and half the time you'll hear Crunchy salt pork lilly and more often than not it would be ate with gusto down in West Virginia at a small food stand on Route 21.
Crunchy salt pork lilly was poor man's food. Hundred pound bags of ole lilly as it was called then was the remnants of corn after all the prime product had been removed for prime corn meal to feed rich City folk and then the balance sifted off as animal food for pampered farm feed. When Virginia split over slavery in the Civil War, the Northerners in the new West Virginia in the Home guard would raid Southern plantations specifically to carry off wagon loads of Crunchy salt pork lilly. Beef, cachon pork and mountain truffles were left off the raiding wagons to leave room for bags and bags of ole Lilly.
Ole lilly can be eaten with the hands, no utensils required. Mountain music helps ole lilly go down,, but don't eat too to much for nothing is more fortifying than lilly with a little corn mash liquor. After a hangover can be tamed by a little lilly in pepto besmuth, or put it in castor oil to keep the children strong.
Crunchy Salt Port Lilly
fiction
edward w pritchard
You know your poor when you can't even afford popcorn. My Father's family came from Great Britain originally but despite the great intelligence of some of them they ended up poor down there in the small but beautiful mountains of West Virginia. One of their favorite foods was Crunchy Salt Port Lilly and it was the remainder of corn after all the useful parts had been used for other food manufacture for people and animals.
My dad's family had a lot of people in it. Ten people or so in the immediate family. They never all gathered together at the same time when I was a boy so I couldn't ever keep them straight and I was never sure if they existed at all. I only heard one sentence factoids of something extraordinary they had once done such as cut a candy bar in ten pieces so everyone could get a treat at Christmas. Another thing they used to do was gently tussle over who could eat the most crunchy Salt Port Lilly. It came in large 100 pound bags like oats for a horse might come in and in a couple of days for snacks my Father's family could eat a whole bag of those tasty morsels of Crunchy Salt Port Lilly.
Of course when I was a boy I didn't appreciate things and didn't like the dry hulky, husky taste of the dry hulls and remainder of corn and my Dad used to chastise me that I better learn to enjoy what I had. I always wanted a whole candy bar for myself. Having never grew up in the Great depression I never learned to value the simple things sent by god to the poor folks like Crunchy Salt Port Lilly.
Too bad because now I need to learn to be content with what I have. I have been outwitted by too many people who take and grab in a business deal like they had three rotating hands. Its a skill they learn in business school I think.
Anyway this weekend I think I am going to stop down West Virginia way and try to find a sack of that good ole Crunchy Salt Port Lilly. I think if I am careful a small bag will last me a long time for snacks and things.
end
fiction
edward w pritchard
part 2
It's the taste of the past and the sensation of dry husky shards tearing at your teeth and jaws is not remembered so much as recollected, more like squinting to see a faint star in space rather than staring straight at it. Crunchy salt pork lilly is so good to snack on. Ask any ex hill billy their preferred last meal and half the time you'll hear Crunchy salt pork lilly and more often than not it would be ate with gusto down in West Virginia at a small food stand on Route 21.
Crunchy salt pork lilly was poor man's food. Hundred pound bags of ole lilly as it was called then was the remnants of corn after all the prime product had been removed for prime corn meal to feed rich City folk and then the balance sifted off as animal food for pampered farm feed. When Virginia split over slavery in the Civil War, the Northerners in the new West Virginia in the Home guard would raid Southern plantations specifically to carry off wagon loads of Crunchy salt pork lilly. Beef, cachon pork and mountain truffles were left off the raiding wagons to leave room for bags and bags of ole Lilly.
Ole lilly can be eaten with the hands, no utensils required. Mountain music helps ole lilly go down,, but don't eat too to much for nothing is more fortifying than lilly with a little corn mash liquor. After a hangover can be tamed by a little lilly in pepto besmuth, or put it in castor oil to keep the children strong.
Crunchy Salt Port Lilly
fiction
edward w pritchard
You know your poor when you can't even afford popcorn. My Father's family came from Great Britain originally but despite the great intelligence of some of them they ended up poor down there in the small but beautiful mountains of West Virginia. One of their favorite foods was Crunchy Salt Port Lilly and it was the remainder of corn after all the useful parts had been used for other food manufacture for people and animals.
My dad's family had a lot of people in it. Ten people or so in the immediate family. They never all gathered together at the same time when I was a boy so I couldn't ever keep them straight and I was never sure if they existed at all. I only heard one sentence factoids of something extraordinary they had once done such as cut a candy bar in ten pieces so everyone could get a treat at Christmas. Another thing they used to do was gently tussle over who could eat the most crunchy Salt Port Lilly. It came in large 100 pound bags like oats for a horse might come in and in a couple of days for snacks my Father's family could eat a whole bag of those tasty morsels of Crunchy Salt Port Lilly.
Of course when I was a boy I didn't appreciate things and didn't like the dry hulky, husky taste of the dry hulls and remainder of corn and my Dad used to chastise me that I better learn to enjoy what I had. I always wanted a whole candy bar for myself. Having never grew up in the Great depression I never learned to value the simple things sent by god to the poor folks like Crunchy Salt Port Lilly.
Too bad because now I need to learn to be content with what I have. I have been outwitted by too many people who take and grab in a business deal like they had three rotating hands. Its a skill they learn in business school I think.
Anyway this weekend I think I am going to stop down West Virginia way and try to find a sack of that good ole Crunchy Salt Port Lilly. I think if I am careful a small bag will last me a long time for snacks and things.
end
life in Space; squatters on Mars; part 8
life in Space; squatters on Mars; part 8
fiction
edward w pritchard
One morning up here on Mars you awake suddenly with an intense desire to physically see the Earth again. Later at night you look desperately back toward where you know Earth should be. For so long you have had this reassuring conviction that Earth existed and was exactly where you knew it was, familiar, solid, material. With quiet panic you scan vast space above and beyond but Earth is gone dissolved into vastness of Space.
You are like an old man suddenly aware his youth is gone. All along you knew it happened to everyone and everything. Now for the first time it is concrete and here for you. Earth has traveled through space at 87,000 miles per hour following the Sun about the Milky Way for billions of miles since you were born, and both Earth and Mars have followed the Sun across the Milky Way about the expanding Universe going nowhere. Just like that it's ending soon, at least for you. Is there a super Nova in store for us all at our end and will anyone be watching for the flash of the momentary light.
fiction
edward w pritchard
One morning up here on Mars you awake suddenly with an intense desire to physically see the Earth again. Later at night you look desperately back toward where you know Earth should be. For so long you have had this reassuring conviction that Earth existed and was exactly where you knew it was, familiar, solid, material. With quiet panic you scan vast space above and beyond but Earth is gone dissolved into vastness of Space.
You are like an old man suddenly aware his youth is gone. All along you knew it happened to everyone and everything. Now for the first time it is concrete and here for you. Earth has traveled through space at 87,000 miles per hour following the Sun about the Milky Way for billions of miles since you were born, and both Earth and Mars have followed the Sun across the Milky Way about the expanding Universe going nowhere. Just like that it's ending soon, at least for you. Is there a super Nova in store for us all at our end and will anyone be watching for the flash of the momentary light.
Saturday, July 27, 2013
psychology and the mind
repost with edit
Some Sensations Are Genetic
Fiction
Edward W Pritchard
The woman, the patient, Lisa Sheets, woke just after 4 AM to the feel of delicate cat paws high up on her back, just below the shoulder blades. It was a large cat, not a tiger or panther, but midsized, like a lynx or bob cat and she felt the sensation of the instant before the weight of the springing cat caused her to fall forward and stumble or fall. The paws also had claws, sharp and potentially lethal but not extended yet and for now not drawn. The woman, Lisa tensed her back as she roused from sleep expecting something further to happen.
As she had done every early morning about 4 AM for several days, when the sensation occurred, the patient Lisa quickly rolled on to her side and the impression of the cat paws went away. Lisa again thought, now calmly, that she had experienced a distant memory of herself being killed by an animal. Each morning for several days she had had this same eerie experience, of waking to the first touch of a pouncing cat striking mid-way up her back with it's first exploratory touch, before digging its sharp claws into her vital organs beneath her skin.
Lisa's boyfriend had suggested more sleep when she discussed her problem with him, which she had tried the last two nights but the exact same sensation had continued and later this morning she was skipping work, and going to see her Family doctor about it. Her Doctor, Dr. Brown was man of common sense and Lisa felt better knowing she would be talking with him about the disturbance.
About a month later Lisa was going to see a psychiatrist about the problem with the cat paws. Every morning since the first meeting with her Doctor, Lisa had had the same awaking experience. Lisa had seen her family Doctor, Dr. Brown, three times and had also taken several tests at an out patient laboratory, including an MRI. Yesterday just a few hours before her fourth 11:00 AM meeting with Dr. Brown, his office, had called her and canceled the appointment and told Lisa to report to another Doctor, today at 10:00 AM a woman psychiatrist from China, Miss Lin who also was a surgeon.
Three weeks and three visits to the psychiatrist later, the psychiatrist, Dr. Lin had personally called and told her referral, the woman Lisa, that she, Dr. Lin had referred her to a neurosurgeon. The Psychiatrist also told her by phone, that she, Dr. Lin the psychiatrist, was now having early morning awakenings herself, and had had them since very late the first night, following the first meeting with Lisa her new patient. The Psychiatrist, Dr. Lin every early morning woke to the sensation of herself freezing to death. She had become so disturbed by the feel of freezing that she thought it best if she not see Her patient Lisa anymore. Dr. Lin also advised Lisa that, the family Doctor, who had initially made the referral of the Lisa, to the psychiatrist, Dr. Lin, and this was in confidence please, well Dr. Lin continued somewhat nervously, the Family Doctor had began having awaking dreams himself , again after the first meeting with the his patient Lisa Sheets. The Family Doctor Brown's sensation was of a short thick, roman style sword being plunged into his neck where the neck connected to the shoulder blades. The Family Doctor, Dr Brown, was not particularly disturbed by the dreams, the psychiatrist had said, because it reminded Dr. Brown of an account of the death of Julius Caesar in the Senate that Doctor Brown had read as a boy. Dr. Brown thought each persons dream awakenings were a case of mass hysteria of some sort, due to the power of suggestion. The lady psychiatrist, Dr. Lin was inclined to disagree with Dr. Brown's opinion, because she said she had counseled thousands of client's, and heard many very disturbing stories, but this was the first time she had personally been drawn into someones delusions. In any event the lady psychiatrist, Dr. Lin was referring Lisa Sheets to a colleague who was a neurosurgeon, and a psychiatrist, and was considered an expert in the field of psycho-somatic illnesses, having published on the subject.
The Neurosurgeon called Lisa two days after their first meeting. The first night after the consult the neurosurgeon, Dr. Zimmerman had awoke to himself falling a moderate distance onto a ledge of rocks, Dr. Zimmerman was sure it was a distant memory of a prior death, especially after he had an awakening dream the second night and had experienced the awakening sensation a full minute before rolling onto his side. Dr. Zimmerman told the his new patient Lisa by phone that he couldn't see her anymore, not because of his own fears but because of what had happened to his wife. The neurosurgeon had mentioned his first awaking to his wife, after he had woke up very agitated, and the Doctor told his wife briefly about the new woman patient Lisa Sheets and the connection between their awakenings. This morning, Doctor Zimmerman's second awakening and the wife's first occurred and the wife had woken to the sensation of herself gasping for air, laying on the ground, and trying to avoid a hot cloud of bad air and gas that was coming toward her. A few hours ago, the Doctors wife, Lora Zimmerman had refused to go to her job as a school teacher because she was afraid she would infect her students.
In desperation the initial Woman, Lisa Sheets with the Cat Paw sensation, had refused to see any more Doctors, and instead went to see the local Parish Priest. Lisa had been raised a Catholic but hadn't attended Mass in a long time. The Priest agreed to see her, after reading a very brief written summary from Lisa of what had happened but agreed to talk to her only in the confessional. The Priest Father Whiteside agreed to pray for Lisa and told her for the time being to sleep on her side and not discuss the problem with anyone else. Father Whiteside said he would advise Lisa further in a few days.
end part 1
Some Sensations Are Genetic
Fiction
Edward W Pritchard
The woman, the patient, Lisa Sheets, woke just after 4 AM to the feel of delicate cat paws high up on her back, just below the shoulder blades. It was a large cat, not a tiger or panther, but midsized, like a lynx or bob cat and she felt the sensation of the instant before the weight of the springing cat caused her to fall forward and stumble or fall. The paws also had claws, sharp and potentially lethal but not extended yet and for now not drawn. The woman, Lisa tensed her back as she roused from sleep expecting something further to happen.
As she had done every early morning about 4 AM for several days, when the sensation occurred, the patient Lisa quickly rolled on to her side and the impression of the cat paws went away. Lisa again thought, now calmly, that she had experienced a distant memory of herself being killed by an animal. Each morning for several days she had had this same eerie experience, of waking to the first touch of a pouncing cat striking mid-way up her back with it's first exploratory touch, before digging its sharp claws into her vital organs beneath her skin.
Lisa's boyfriend had suggested more sleep when she discussed her problem with him, which she had tried the last two nights but the exact same sensation had continued and later this morning she was skipping work, and going to see her Family doctor about it. Her Doctor, Dr. Brown was man of common sense and Lisa felt better knowing she would be talking with him about the disturbance.
About a month later Lisa was going to see a psychiatrist about the problem with the cat paws. Every morning since the first meeting with her Doctor, Lisa had had the same awaking experience. Lisa had seen her family Doctor, Dr. Brown, three times and had also taken several tests at an out patient laboratory, including an MRI. Yesterday just a few hours before her fourth 11:00 AM meeting with Dr. Brown, his office, had called her and canceled the appointment and told Lisa to report to another Doctor, today at 10:00 AM a woman psychiatrist from China, Miss Lin who also was a surgeon.
Three weeks and three visits to the psychiatrist later, the psychiatrist, Dr. Lin had personally called and told her referral, the woman Lisa, that she, Dr. Lin had referred her to a neurosurgeon. The Psychiatrist also told her by phone, that she, Dr. Lin the psychiatrist, was now having early morning awakenings herself, and had had them since very late the first night, following the first meeting with Lisa her new patient. The Psychiatrist, Dr. Lin every early morning woke to the sensation of herself freezing to death. She had become so disturbed by the feel of freezing that she thought it best if she not see Her patient Lisa anymore. Dr. Lin also advised Lisa that, the family Doctor, who had initially made the referral of the Lisa, to the psychiatrist, Dr. Lin, and this was in confidence please, well Dr. Lin continued somewhat nervously, the Family Doctor had began having awaking dreams himself , again after the first meeting with the his patient Lisa Sheets. The Family Doctor Brown's sensation was of a short thick, roman style sword being plunged into his neck where the neck connected to the shoulder blades. The Family Doctor, Dr Brown, was not particularly disturbed by the dreams, the psychiatrist had said, because it reminded Dr. Brown of an account of the death of Julius Caesar in the Senate that Doctor Brown had read as a boy. Dr. Brown thought each persons dream awakenings were a case of mass hysteria of some sort, due to the power of suggestion. The lady psychiatrist, Dr. Lin was inclined to disagree with Dr. Brown's opinion, because she said she had counseled thousands of client's, and heard many very disturbing stories, but this was the first time she had personally been drawn into someones delusions. In any event the lady psychiatrist, Dr. Lin was referring Lisa Sheets to a colleague who was a neurosurgeon, and a psychiatrist, and was considered an expert in the field of psycho-somatic illnesses, having published on the subject.
The Neurosurgeon called Lisa two days after their first meeting. The first night after the consult the neurosurgeon, Dr. Zimmerman had awoke to himself falling a moderate distance onto a ledge of rocks, Dr. Zimmerman was sure it was a distant memory of a prior death, especially after he had an awakening dream the second night and had experienced the awakening sensation a full minute before rolling onto his side. Dr. Zimmerman told the his new patient Lisa by phone that he couldn't see her anymore, not because of his own fears but because of what had happened to his wife. The neurosurgeon had mentioned his first awaking to his wife, after he had woke up very agitated, and the Doctor told his wife briefly about the new woman patient Lisa Sheets and the connection between their awakenings. This morning, Doctor Zimmerman's second awakening and the wife's first occurred and the wife had woken to the sensation of herself gasping for air, laying on the ground, and trying to avoid a hot cloud of bad air and gas that was coming toward her. A few hours ago, the Doctors wife, Lora Zimmerman had refused to go to her job as a school teacher because she was afraid she would infect her students.
In desperation the initial Woman, Lisa Sheets with the Cat Paw sensation, had refused to see any more Doctors, and instead went to see the local Parish Priest. Lisa had been raised a Catholic but hadn't attended Mass in a long time. The Priest agreed to see her, after reading a very brief written summary from Lisa of what had happened but agreed to talk to her only in the confessional. The Priest Father Whiteside agreed to pray for Lisa and told her for the time being to sleep on her side and not discuss the problem with anyone else. Father Whiteside said he would advise Lisa further in a few days.
end part 1
Wednesday, July 24, 2013
royal baby is here
royal baby is here
fiction
edward w pritchard
Kate, the royal baby, Prince Charles's son what's his name; did they win some kind of lottery or something? If the British Empire comes back one of them could rule half the world. What's their training to do that? Is it just very good genetics and luck?
Sometimes when my life seems less than real or I am reliving the past I like to hear a little, just a little about the royal baby. Does that make me a little British?
fiction
edward w pritchard
Kate, the royal baby, Prince Charles's son what's his name; did they win some kind of lottery or something? If the British Empire comes back one of them could rule half the world. What's their training to do that? Is it just very good genetics and luck?
Sometimes when my life seems less than real or I am reliving the past I like to hear a little, just a little about the royal baby. Does that make me a little British?
life in space/squatters on mars/part 7/draft 1
life in space squatters on Mars/part 7
fiction
edward w pritchard
I feel I have to be the practical one here, to keep things real. This writer who created me and put me here on Mars is an impractical dreamer; a Lake of souls reuniting across the universe type of guy.
I am Bosco. I am placed here on Mars by that writer, trying to dodge incoming meteors, and stay interested in my wife Daria; Daria who is beginning to lean forward at the waist because her muscles are not adjusting to Martian gravity in a "normal" way. Daria and I can't talk either. That writer was right about one thing, language does not function in a normal way on Mars. Don't ask me why I am not a linguist, I am just a Serbian squatter named Bosco about to cut some corners and break a lot of laws and by pass the tax codes to make a living as a miner of rare minerals coaxed from meteors bounced off our red sod hut. The asteroids originated a few billion years ago from beyond Jupiter. I have to stay focused, these magnets we use to attract the asteroids work too well; very easily one of the streaking asteroids could cut me in two. I would still owe the taxes and fees if it did to the IRS. That's the life of an asteroid miner.
fiction
edward w pritchard
I feel I have to be the practical one here, to keep things real. This writer who created me and put me here on Mars is an impractical dreamer; a Lake of souls reuniting across the universe type of guy.
I am Bosco. I am placed here on Mars by that writer, trying to dodge incoming meteors, and stay interested in my wife Daria; Daria who is beginning to lean forward at the waist because her muscles are not adjusting to Martian gravity in a "normal" way. Daria and I can't talk either. That writer was right about one thing, language does not function in a normal way on Mars. Don't ask me why I am not a linguist, I am just a Serbian squatter named Bosco about to cut some corners and break a lot of laws and by pass the tax codes to make a living as a miner of rare minerals coaxed from meteors bounced off our red sod hut. The asteroids originated a few billion years ago from beyond Jupiter. I have to stay focused, these magnets we use to attract the asteroids work too well; very easily one of the streaking asteroids could cut me in two. I would still owe the taxes and fees if it did to the IRS. That's the life of an asteroid miner.
Monday, July 22, 2013
Detroit bankruptcy and me
Detroit bankruptcy and me
fiction
edward w pritchard
I've been to Detroit, twice. Once in 1964 for a once day family vacation. One hot Summer day, on a whim my Mother insisted that my Father pack up the five children and her in our decrepit Rambler station wagon and head up to Detroit for a one day vacation. We stopped at the bargain store and bought an aluminum folding chair to take along. Later I went on business to Detroit Michigan, I found out Detroit has a run down casino, a proper strip club and that you shouldn't walk alone from your luxury hotel to the hockey stadium under any circumstances.
Now I hear Detroit wants to file bankruptcy. I don't know anyone in Detroit. I am however concerned about Detroit. I am a baseball fan and I want to see the Detroit Tigers in the playoffs race against my local Cleveland Indians. I propose if a technicality can't be rigged up in Washington, or Wall Street, or by Michigan politicians to save the public sector pensions in Detroit Michigan soon that we have the citizens of Denver, Colorado or Boise Idaho bail out Detroit. I don't know anybody in Denver or Boise.
fiction
edward w pritchard
I've been to Detroit, twice. Once in 1964 for a once day family vacation. One hot Summer day, on a whim my Mother insisted that my Father pack up the five children and her in our decrepit Rambler station wagon and head up to Detroit for a one day vacation. We stopped at the bargain store and bought an aluminum folding chair to take along. Later I went on business to Detroit Michigan, I found out Detroit has a run down casino, a proper strip club and that you shouldn't walk alone from your luxury hotel to the hockey stadium under any circumstances.
Now I hear Detroit wants to file bankruptcy. I don't know anyone in Detroit. I am however concerned about Detroit. I am a baseball fan and I want to see the Detroit Tigers in the playoffs race against my local Cleveland Indians. I propose if a technicality can't be rigged up in Washington, or Wall Street, or by Michigan politicians to save the public sector pensions in Detroit Michigan soon that we have the citizens of Denver, Colorado or Boise Idaho bail out Detroit. I don't know anybody in Denver or Boise.
Sunday, July 21, 2013
life in space/ squatters on Mars/ part 6 draft 1
life in space/ squatters on mars/ part 6
fiction
edward w pritchard
String theory/vibrations are coming, my forebodings part 2
fiction
edward w pritchard
part 1 again then part 2 below
It's time to get started. Startled from sleep, pursued by dreams.
Moan the usual lamentations and plan life's distractions from memory and suffering.
It feels distantly familiar as if I have done it before.
Something cosmic is about to happen and it involves vibrations, originating far off in space and manifesting itself malignantly here on earth at a subatomic level.
We humans will suffer greatly because of the vibrations.
Listen, listen, awaken, feel the vibrations;
the universe is moving again.
end
Posted by edward pritchard at 3:05 AM 0 comments Labels: string theory
part 2
Its becoming clearer. It can't be understood only distantly felt. Go there again. Feel the vibrations, that will help.
Music is related to the vibrations, it helps to hear music and it helps to listen to the birds. The talking and singing of the birds is related to the distant vibrations. The birds remember and they taught us to talk.
The distant vibrations are the source. Far away across the universe is the source. When we leave here we return to the source. Return as energy. To unite again. Return to the source.
What is it. Where is it.
Awakening from dreams it is leaving again. Submerging, out of consciousness. Wait, wait I want to understand.
Back to reality. Life again for now. It almost time, its almost morning, Its almost time for the birds to start to sing again. Listen the birds are starting to sing again.
end
More, related somehow to the vibrations that we feel more than hear, vibrations that are coming again, calling us to somewhere
Sunday, October 3, 2010
Journey with me
Journey with me
fiction
edward w pritchard
Journey with me back across the ages to when we lived in the Lake village. On the water, near the shore on platforms of elevated poles in a small community. One entrance to the abodes was disconnected at night for safety and guarded by one or two teenage boys, chosen on a rotating basis.
It was breezy on the lake and cozy. You were near your family and at night you watched the stars and tried to remember the movements of the moon and planets for they seemed significant. When you slept you slept deeply and secure and you had many dreams. Sometimes in the morning you would talk about your dreams. Around the fires, as the fish cooked and the bird eggs sizzled someone might interpret your dreams and you might listen carefully or you might laugh with others for dreams were not the only things you talked about sitting with those you cared about in the early morning breeze along the Lake.
Sunrise came everyday and you watched the sun rise up into the sky. At night, a mild wind made small waves around the village. If you were on guard duty around the entrance ramp you sat by a small fire and talked till midnight and then slept lightly, unafraid, but vigilant for the village's safety depended on you.
Sometimes you went to shore and journeyed by land to gather valuable rocks to use for cutting tools or to look for fresh crabs and clams for special meals. When you brought them back pretty girls would serve you steamed fresh seafood cooked by skilled chefs.
If you were old you helped with the children. If you were sick you ate lichens and mosses that grew in marshes full of healing minerals. When you died they pushed you toward the middle of the sacred small lake nearby on a burning raft and everyone drank fermented beer and watched the sky for shooting stars that would take you to the next life.
When you were born again later you didn't remember that previous life but it is distantly familiar to you. You can almost remember your partners eyes and soft skin or holding your Father's hand when he died. Sometimes you look up at a sunset or see the moon reflected in a drop of water and unexpectedly hear the voices of the ancient language you and friends used to whisper in when you watched for shooting stars at the sacred burial lake.
end
Posted by edward pritchard at 11:17 PM Labels: the lake village
and this:
Meaning only conveyed, cannot be stated
fiction
edward w pritchard
290 trillion light years from anywhere
there is a cosmic lake, not water or matter but remnants of mind,
energy, remaining after the rest is gone
each square on the surface is unique
different but the same, in various shades of orange
part of a potential ultimate whole
and each mind, one day will journey there, to that cosmic lake of energy
and will become one square on the surface of that potential larger whole square
and each mind, one of 200 billion
will, when all the original 200 billion are joined into a complete larger whole cell
then that one new larger whole cell made of the previous 200 billion
will become the first cell on a larger lake of energy
and someday the new one billion larger cells will join
each different shades of orange
and a complete ultimate mind will emerge
and began to move back across the 290 trillion light years
back home where they started from
and shall be more than will
end
and this:
reunion with God
fiction
edward w pritchard
I yearn for reunion with God but cannot find him.
So I make myself bigger, and I am mankind, all 6 billion of us.
I have sense and sensibility
But I cannot taste touch or feel God and my senses doubt he is there, and I cannot find him.
Intellectually, I contemplate, abstract and conceptualize God
But I cannot find him, so I make myself bigger.
I am Earth, and all things on it, and I am will
That will started with me as a rock in space with the incredible will to grow
I pulled other rocks and debris and eventually the pieces became part of me
and I grew large and hot and transformed
and each thing material or life had will and we grew, but as one.
and we are whole but we can not find God, so I grow bigger
I am a galaxy, and physical laws and light and movement
and everything in me races and spins
and collides, and aggregates, and is spectacular
but I cannot find God, so I grow bigger
I am the entire universe,
I stop, start and grow many times
but I yearn for reunion with God
But I cannot find him, so I make myself smaller
I am a quark
and I am impossibility, I die sometimes before I exist
and I am simultaneous
and I am right but cannot find left
So I long for God, but cannot find him so I make myself bigger
So I am myself
and I sleep to search for God
but my senses interrupt and do not allow me to control my dreams
and then, I think, and am outside of time, and I think of God
but my senses interrupt, and I die
and yearn for reunion with God
And I am a rock in space and I long to aggregate to search for God
end
almost morning
birds will be singing soon, try to understand, they taught us to talk, i remember that
string theory, vibrations
mind body connection, maybe eggs for breakfast
end
fiction
edward w pritchard
String theory/vibrations are coming, my forebodings part 2
fiction
edward w pritchard
part 1 again then part 2 below
It's time to get started. Startled from sleep, pursued by dreams.
Moan the usual lamentations and plan life's distractions from memory and suffering.
It feels distantly familiar as if I have done it before.
Something cosmic is about to happen and it involves vibrations, originating far off in space and manifesting itself malignantly here on earth at a subatomic level.
We humans will suffer greatly because of the vibrations.
Listen, listen, awaken, feel the vibrations;
the universe is moving again.
end
Posted by edward pritchard at 3:05 AM 0 comments Labels: string theory
part 2
Its becoming clearer. It can't be understood only distantly felt. Go there again. Feel the vibrations, that will help.
Music is related to the vibrations, it helps to hear music and it helps to listen to the birds. The talking and singing of the birds is related to the distant vibrations. The birds remember and they taught us to talk.
The distant vibrations are the source. Far away across the universe is the source. When we leave here we return to the source. Return as energy. To unite again. Return to the source.
What is it. Where is it.
Awakening from dreams it is leaving again. Submerging, out of consciousness. Wait, wait I want to understand.
Back to reality. Life again for now. It almost time, its almost morning, Its almost time for the birds to start to sing again. Listen the birds are starting to sing again.
end
More, related somehow to the vibrations that we feel more than hear, vibrations that are coming again, calling us to somewhere
Sunday, October 3, 2010
Journey with me
Journey with me
fiction
edward w pritchard
Journey with me back across the ages to when we lived in the Lake village. On the water, near the shore on platforms of elevated poles in a small community. One entrance to the abodes was disconnected at night for safety and guarded by one or two teenage boys, chosen on a rotating basis.
It was breezy on the lake and cozy. You were near your family and at night you watched the stars and tried to remember the movements of the moon and planets for they seemed significant. When you slept you slept deeply and secure and you had many dreams. Sometimes in the morning you would talk about your dreams. Around the fires, as the fish cooked and the bird eggs sizzled someone might interpret your dreams and you might listen carefully or you might laugh with others for dreams were not the only things you talked about sitting with those you cared about in the early morning breeze along the Lake.
Sunrise came everyday and you watched the sun rise up into the sky. At night, a mild wind made small waves around the village. If you were on guard duty around the entrance ramp you sat by a small fire and talked till midnight and then slept lightly, unafraid, but vigilant for the village's safety depended on you.
Sometimes you went to shore and journeyed by land to gather valuable rocks to use for cutting tools or to look for fresh crabs and clams for special meals. When you brought them back pretty girls would serve you steamed fresh seafood cooked by skilled chefs.
If you were old you helped with the children. If you were sick you ate lichens and mosses that grew in marshes full of healing minerals. When you died they pushed you toward the middle of the sacred small lake nearby on a burning raft and everyone drank fermented beer and watched the sky for shooting stars that would take you to the next life.
When you were born again later you didn't remember that previous life but it is distantly familiar to you. You can almost remember your partners eyes and soft skin or holding your Father's hand when he died. Sometimes you look up at a sunset or see the moon reflected in a drop of water and unexpectedly hear the voices of the ancient language you and friends used to whisper in when you watched for shooting stars at the sacred burial lake.
end
Posted by edward pritchard at 11:17 PM Labels: the lake village
and this:
Meaning only conveyed, cannot be stated
fiction
edward w pritchard
290 trillion light years from anywhere
there is a cosmic lake, not water or matter but remnants of mind,
energy, remaining after the rest is gone
each square on the surface is unique
different but the same, in various shades of orange
part of a potential ultimate whole
and each mind, one day will journey there, to that cosmic lake of energy
and will become one square on the surface of that potential larger whole square
and each mind, one of 200 billion
will, when all the original 200 billion are joined into a complete larger whole cell
then that one new larger whole cell made of the previous 200 billion
will become the first cell on a larger lake of energy
and someday the new one billion larger cells will join
each different shades of orange
and a complete ultimate mind will emerge
and began to move back across the 290 trillion light years
back home where they started from
and shall be more than will
end
and this:
reunion with God
fiction
edward w pritchard
I yearn for reunion with God but cannot find him.
So I make myself bigger, and I am mankind, all 6 billion of us.
I have sense and sensibility
But I cannot taste touch or feel God and my senses doubt he is there, and I cannot find him.
Intellectually, I contemplate, abstract and conceptualize God
But I cannot find him, so I make myself bigger.
I am Earth, and all things on it, and I am will
That will started with me as a rock in space with the incredible will to grow
I pulled other rocks and debris and eventually the pieces became part of me
and I grew large and hot and transformed
and each thing material or life had will and we grew, but as one.
and we are whole but we can not find God, so I grow bigger
I am a galaxy, and physical laws and light and movement
and everything in me races and spins
and collides, and aggregates, and is spectacular
but I cannot find God, so I grow bigger
I am the entire universe,
I stop, start and grow many times
but I yearn for reunion with God
But I cannot find him, so I make myself smaller
I am a quark
and I am impossibility, I die sometimes before I exist
and I am simultaneous
and I am right but cannot find left
So I long for God, but cannot find him so I make myself bigger
So I am myself
and I sleep to search for God
but my senses interrupt and do not allow me to control my dreams
and then, I think, and am outside of time, and I think of God
but my senses interrupt, and I die
and yearn for reunion with God
And I am a rock in space and I long to aggregate to search for God
end
almost morning
birds will be singing soon, try to understand, they taught us to talk, i remember that
string theory, vibrations
mind body connection, maybe eggs for breakfast
end
life in space/ squatters on mars/ part 5
life in space/ squatters on mars/ part 5
fiction
edward w pritchard
here is a part of how early earth bound writer Pritchard imagined human language would have difficulty adapting to life in space. Pritchard imagined life away from earth as hostile to humans in all ways.
to yearn for something
fiction
edward w pritchard
Word derivations are bursting human treasures passed to us from our nameless ancestors.
First, although everybody is unique, we all experience the same basic daily stimuli. Waves, sunrises, phases of the moon, fingers smashed, loved ones removed.
Over time we realize that sometimes we are happy and sometimes sad. Often reason unknown. Our moods are a legacy passed on to us in deep human time from our ancestors who came before us and language is the tally as our species successfully struggled to exist, uttered sounds to convince, order and express fleeting wistful emotions and moods.
To express the moods and longings they experienced our ancestors passed on to us and reluctantly sent us the words that composed the language they used in a shrinking attempt to order their lives.
I "yearn" intensely for what I have lost. My distant Grandfather, great greatly had a "yernen" to understand why he missed his dead wife. With his great great grandmother, she had a "giernan", an intense desire to know why she felt as she did, but her Great great great [ times ten] aunt used "hortari" and urged the future descendants to use "chairein" to encourage and to rejoice in the travesty of life.
In space, here on Mars for example like everything else, language doesn't adapt well. Words from earth seem distant, quaint unable to stand up to the harshness of space. More on this later.
end
fiction
edward w pritchard
here is a part of how early earth bound writer Pritchard imagined human language would have difficulty adapting to life in space. Pritchard imagined life away from earth as hostile to humans in all ways.
to yearn for something
fiction
edward w pritchard
Word derivations are bursting human treasures passed to us from our nameless ancestors.
First, although everybody is unique, we all experience the same basic daily stimuli. Waves, sunrises, phases of the moon, fingers smashed, loved ones removed.
Over time we realize that sometimes we are happy and sometimes sad. Often reason unknown. Our moods are a legacy passed on to us in deep human time from our ancestors who came before us and language is the tally as our species successfully struggled to exist, uttered sounds to convince, order and express fleeting wistful emotions and moods.
To express the moods and longings they experienced our ancestors passed on to us and reluctantly sent us the words that composed the language they used in a shrinking attempt to order their lives.
I "yearn" intensely for what I have lost. My distant Grandfather, great greatly had a "yernen" to understand why he missed his dead wife. With his great great grandmother, she had a "giernan", an intense desire to know why she felt as she did, but her Great great great [ times ten] aunt used "hortari" and urged the future descendants to use "chairein" to encourage and to rejoice in the travesty of life.
In space, here on Mars for example like everything else, language doesn't adapt well. Words from earth seem distant, quaint unable to stand up to the harshness of space. More on this later.
end
life on Mars/ squatters in space part 4
life on Mars/ squatters in space part 4
fiction
edward w pritchard
this mournful traveler/ lamentation 7
fiction
edward w pritchard
This mournful traveler, myself, having arrived at this place; without recognition, friendship or admiration, did I come here of my own initiative. Or, was my path pre-determined. Was I placed here and now, fighting to stay this dejected reputation, as preparation for future battles. Or, was my path random, of no meaning or significance. And, did I arrive here through lack of resolve, insignificance of character, and stint of judgment.
Stumble on, refuse to fall, dream despite reality and probability and hope for victory over the next hill. The script if written is not in my hands and my eyes cannot see beyond this abyss.
fiction
edward w pritchard
this mournful traveler/ lamentation 7
fiction
edward w pritchard
This mournful traveler, myself, having arrived at this place; without recognition, friendship or admiration, did I come here of my own initiative. Or, was my path pre-determined. Was I placed here and now, fighting to stay this dejected reputation, as preparation for future battles. Or, was my path random, of no meaning or significance. And, did I arrive here through lack of resolve, insignificance of character, and stint of judgment.
Stumble on, refuse to fall, dream despite reality and probability and hope for victory over the next hill. The script if written is not in my hands and my eyes cannot see beyond this abyss.
Life in space/squatters on Mars/part 3
Life in space/squatters on Mars/part 3
fiction
edward w pritchard
When you wake in space, after a dead restless sleep you have an unearthly repellent alienation. Each element that makes up you body, that composes your physical being in it's entirety is scrambled. Each chemical, each atom, each gene is confused; away from earth you are no longer you; humanity has not had two or three billion years to accept or secure the hostile environment of space and your body, soul and spirit are separated and abstracted. Awakening in space you are very still, unable to move, trapped deep in your mind. Your mind stays close. Your soul is back at earth.
Slowly, tentatively, when you awake in space the individual elements that make up your body begin to reorient. Your mind and body realign, conjoining they summon your soul back from Earth. Each new day it's like this on a planet that spins unsteadily and orbits ominously about the Sun. Mars is a hostile place for humans to be.
fiction
edward w pritchard
When you wake in space, after a dead restless sleep you have an unearthly repellent alienation. Each element that makes up you body, that composes your physical being in it's entirety is scrambled. Each chemical, each atom, each gene is confused; away from earth you are no longer you; humanity has not had two or three billion years to accept or secure the hostile environment of space and your body, soul and spirit are separated and abstracted. Awakening in space you are very still, unable to move, trapped deep in your mind. Your mind stays close. Your soul is back at earth.
Slowly, tentatively, when you awake in space the individual elements that make up your body begin to reorient. Your mind and body realign, conjoining they summon your soul back from Earth. Each new day it's like this on a planet that spins unsteadily and orbits ominously about the Sun. Mars is a hostile place for humans to be.
Saturday, July 20, 2013
jump jim crow; Zimmerman shoots Travion, one colored man shoots another again
jump jim crow; Zimmerman shoots Travion, one colored man shoots another again
fiction
edward w pritchard
Jump Jim crow.
Fly through the air for three four steps and dunk the ball.
Drink whiskey,
chase ho's.
One by one, let them fight and wait.
Buy expensive pants and waterproof boots.
Rap and strut and drive and dunk.
Help me high flier,
Someone's got me dancing drunk too.
Tell me brother, who is the man.
fiction
edward w pritchard
Jump Jim crow.
Fly through the air for three four steps and dunk the ball.
Drink whiskey,
chase ho's.
One by one, let them fight and wait.
Buy expensive pants and waterproof boots.
Rap and strut and drive and dunk.
Help me high flier,
Someone's got me dancing drunk too.
Tell me brother, who is the man.
son number one
son number one
Quest far, quest forward; pilgrim find yourself.
Safety and security begone; look away,
start, stumble, continue,
reinvent what is rusted.
Discard what is broken,
return shining and bright.
Rest forever awakened.
Quest far, quest forward; pilgrim find yourself.
Safety and security begone; look away,
start, stumble, continue,
reinvent what is rusted.
Discard what is broken,
return shining and bright.
Rest forever awakened.
friend's funeral; life's cycle
Roll Em Pete; Walking my path, no sunshine, music lights the way
To Pete Johnson piano man, in 1938 Pete played back up for Big Joe Turner on maybe the first Rock and Roll song, Roll Em Pete, later poor Pete died down and out in obscurity
fiction
edward w pritchard
Each sad song was sung before, the couples come and go but the melody is the same.
Walking my path, no sunshine, music lights my way.
I played the boogie and let Big Joe shout and sing and shine,
now and then his lyrics would wake audiences from their slumbers, so I played back-up
Roll Em Pete; Walking my path, no sunshine, music lights the way
but the singer gets the credit, he is always the star
Me, I just play piano boogie, and my struggle is always there
Roll Em Pete; Walking my path, no sunshine, music lights the way
other times my own boogie blues melody lifts me from my own sorrow
Roll Em Pete; Walking my path, no sunshine, music lights the way
but life is very hard for me
traveling everywhere over this country to play just a little, no contract, no security, no renewals
I wash ice creams trucks and hearses for a little cash between gigs
the crowds always cheer and follow the singer but after the performance the piano man walks home alone
When I got old, I cut off part of my finger fixing the car on the way to play,
then I had a few strokes, still I had to play piano to survive,
during the 1950's others harvested the crop I worked so hard to plant;
you Big Joe, I am glad you got it on, those innuendos stimulate the crowds
I think I hear your voice Joe
but it's a dream
no one remembers me
Roll Em Pete, Walking my path, no sunshine, music lights the way
I still need the money and I am too old to do much else
so I play piano with just one hand, I had a stroke and everyone's forgotten me,
It's winter, it's very cold and I am stuck in Buffalo, New York
boogie this and boogie that, I am just struggling to get by
Roll Em Pete, walking my path, no sunshine, music lights the way
the singers keep a shouting and collect all the dough and the piano players come and go,
the blues had a baby and they called it rock and roll
life goes on, it's all been done before
someone a-new re-records your rhythms, blues becomes rock and roll,
everyone smiles at the cameras while they can,
and everyone remembers the lyrics even after the song is done,
but the tune dies there on the keyboard.
To Pete Johnson piano man, in 1938 Pete played back up for Big Joe Turner on maybe the first Rock and Roll song, Roll Em Pete, later poor Pete died down and out in obscurity
fiction
edward w pritchard
Each sad song was sung before, the couples come and go but the melody is the same.
Walking my path, no sunshine, music lights my way.
I played the boogie and let Big Joe shout and sing and shine,
now and then his lyrics would wake audiences from their slumbers, so I played back-up
Roll Em Pete; Walking my path, no sunshine, music lights the way
but the singer gets the credit, he is always the star
Me, I just play piano boogie, and my struggle is always there
Roll Em Pete; Walking my path, no sunshine, music lights the way
other times my own boogie blues melody lifts me from my own sorrow
Roll Em Pete; Walking my path, no sunshine, music lights the way
but life is very hard for me
traveling everywhere over this country to play just a little, no contract, no security, no renewals
I wash ice creams trucks and hearses for a little cash between gigs
the crowds always cheer and follow the singer but after the performance the piano man walks home alone
When I got old, I cut off part of my finger fixing the car on the way to play,
then I had a few strokes, still I had to play piano to survive,
during the 1950's others harvested the crop I worked so hard to plant;
you Big Joe, I am glad you got it on, those innuendos stimulate the crowds
I think I hear your voice Joe
but it's a dream
no one remembers me
Roll Em Pete, Walking my path, no sunshine, music lights the way
I still need the money and I am too old to do much else
so I play piano with just one hand, I had a stroke and everyone's forgotten me,
It's winter, it's very cold and I am stuck in Buffalo, New York
boogie this and boogie that, I am just struggling to get by
Roll Em Pete, walking my path, no sunshine, music lights the way
the singers keep a shouting and collect all the dough and the piano players come and go,
the blues had a baby and they called it rock and roll
life goes on, it's all been done before
someone a-new re-records your rhythms, blues becomes rock and roll,
everyone smiles at the cameras while they can,
and everyone remembers the lyrics even after the song is done,
but the tune dies there on the keyboard.
I went to an old friend's funeral today
the grim reaper visits my locality
fiction
edward w pritchard
We were at the fast food restaurant, the world's largest chain when I met the grim reaper. I tentatively asked:
" Are you here for me"
The grim reaper chuckles a little, but obviously just wanted me to leave him alone.
"No, he said, you won't do the asking when I come for you"
He was just here to order himself some food. Safe from the ravishes of death for now I became judgmental of the grim reaper. He was ordering a vast quantity of fast food and he was very obese. He was very tall, maybe six feet four and he must weigh three hundred fifty pounds. Rather than the typical black cloak he wore in paintings my grim reaper wore a magnificent white Muslim style one piece sherwani. He cut an imposing figure but I was appalled by the amount of food he piled his tray with. There were four or five double super sandwiches and the usual add-ons.
The grim reaper sat alone and ate his lunch. I watched him pull out a small cell phone type device and I surmised he was using his GPS system to locate his next assignment.
I looked away for a moment and the grim reaper was leaving. I watched him walk away. From the back he looked quite dashing as he purposely marched off to his next appointment.
fiction
edward w pritchard
We were at the fast food restaurant, the world's largest chain when I met the grim reaper. I tentatively asked:
" Are you here for me"
The grim reaper chuckles a little, but obviously just wanted me to leave him alone.
"No, he said, you won't do the asking when I come for you"
He was just here to order himself some food. Safe from the ravishes of death for now I became judgmental of the grim reaper. He was ordering a vast quantity of fast food and he was very obese. He was very tall, maybe six feet four and he must weigh three hundred fifty pounds. Rather than the typical black cloak he wore in paintings my grim reaper wore a magnificent white Muslim style one piece sherwani. He cut an imposing figure but I was appalled by the amount of food he piled his tray with. There were four or five double super sandwiches and the usual add-ons.
The grim reaper sat alone and ate his lunch. I watched him pull out a small cell phone type device and I surmised he was using his GPS system to locate his next assignment.
I looked away for a moment and the grim reaper was leaving. I watched him walk away. From the back he looked quite dashing as he purposely marched off to his next appointment.
after our death
Saturday, February 19, 2011
Sounds on the wind
Sounds on the wind
fiction
edward w pritchard
There in the village the Buddhists all kept chimes and bells near the back doors of their abodes. In addition to the prayer wheels, from the humblest abode to the most luxurious home gentle bells and chimes filled the morning air and the sound carried a long long way in the thin crisp mountain air.
As I lay dieing my last thought was of the twinkle of those bells and chimes and where the sound goes after the chimes are heard no more and where the winds deposits the remnant of that gentle whispering.
fiction
edward w pritchard
There in the village the Buddhists all kept chimes and bells near the back doors of their abodes. In addition to the prayer wheels, from the humblest abode to the most luxurious home gentle bells and chimes filled the morning air and the sound carried a long long way in the thin crisp mountain air.
As I lay dieing my last thought was of the twinkle of those bells and chimes and where the sound goes after the chimes are heard no more and where the winds deposits the remnant of that gentle whispering.
Thursday, July 18, 2013
Baseball is a game of many superstitions
Baseball is a game of many superstitions
fiction
edward w pritchard
Baseball is a game of many superstitions but one was followed religiously when Manny Watkins pursed the major league records for number of consecutive innings without an error at shortstop.
Around the old horn the ball would fly after Manny handled the ball during his nearly two year streak without so much as one error. At first base I would be part of the routine. Smack the ball would thud into my glove, over to third and back to whoever was pitching. Manny had done it again; another game without one error. Win or lose the game, the streak continued. The fans packed the stadium and national television broke into prime time reality TV or Brady bunch reruns to show us live, doing the old around the horn baseball toss.
Mr. M owner of the Cleveland Indians hired the best jazz musicians from New Orleans to play as the around the horn was performed and the fans would clap and sway as the number of consecutive days climbed. We all were a little famous for a while those two Summer's when our shortstop Manny Watkins handled the ball hundred's of time without error.
No one would talk to Manny during the streak so he always sat in the dugout by himself looking a little nervous. To me, there at first base, the only time Manny seemed to relax during the streak was when the New Orleans Jazz group would play. A distant smile crossed Manny's visage as he prepared himself to handle the next hot grounder far to his left.
end part 1
fiction
edward w pritchard
Baseball is a game of many superstitions but one was followed religiously when Manny Watkins pursed the major league records for number of consecutive innings without an error at shortstop.
Around the old horn the ball would fly after Manny handled the ball during his nearly two year streak without so much as one error. At first base I would be part of the routine. Smack the ball would thud into my glove, over to third and back to whoever was pitching. Manny had done it again; another game without one error. Win or lose the game, the streak continued. The fans packed the stadium and national television broke into prime time reality TV or Brady bunch reruns to show us live, doing the old around the horn baseball toss.
Mr. M owner of the Cleveland Indians hired the best jazz musicians from New Orleans to play as the around the horn was performed and the fans would clap and sway as the number of consecutive days climbed. We all were a little famous for a while those two Summer's when our shortstop Manny Watkins handled the ball hundred's of time without error.
No one would talk to Manny during the streak so he always sat in the dugout by himself looking a little nervous. To me, there at first base, the only time Manny seemed to relax during the streak was when the New Orleans Jazz group would play. A distant smile crossed Manny's visage as he prepared himself to handle the next hot grounder far to his left.
end part 1
Saturday, July 13, 2013
Life in space/ part 1 and 2; squatters on Mars
Life in space/part 1
fiction
edward w pritchard
editor's note
Bold and adventurous attempts to see the future and tell how things might be deserve to be applauded. None more bold or often wrong than minor writer ed pritchard. Here look how Pritchard sees Mars from a vantage before anyone went there. [ harry bailey editor]
start
life in space/[part 1]
When you first get to Mars it's not what you thought it would be like. Later after your illusions about yourself and life have dried into the red dusty rock of the Martian surface you blame the writers, the writers who you read as a child and who speculated from the security of earth on what Mars and space travel would be like. The writers who got things so wrong about Mars. It's really not about Mars at all, but it's about life trying desperately to thrive; even if for a while in the hostile environment of space and anywhere away from the sanctuary of Earth.
I came out to Mars on the rumble run, from the Moon to Mars nonstop. Me and my eighteen year old bride Daria. Just the two of us on a seven month extended honeymoon; us and an eleven man crew and 75 security cadets headed for a three year tour of Jupiter. All eighty six of them and me too couldn't keep our eyes or thoughts off Daria after the first two weeks away from earth.. A Woman in space is a rarity and a pretty woman is very unusual.
Mars first impression:
The first thing I saw on disembarking on Mars was the Mercator rats. On the tail, for defense and protection they have a large bulb of flesh. Through evolution or something the bulb is flashed at anything behind the rat and shows as a distinctly human face. The faces are supposed to look like celebrities from earth, or at least that's what general opinion is. It's unsettling and a good inhuman way to start to accommodate one to the unfamiliar Martian environment.
end part 1
Part 2
Life in space; squatters on Mars
My new bride Daria and I had just arrived on Mars and we were both eager to make our fortunes mining meteors. We hoped to find a small piece of land somewhere far from the settlements on Mars and attract asteroids containing rare and valuable minerals and metals from the main asteroid belt between Mars and Jupiter. We had bought at great expense the latest technology, six huge plastic magnets, to attract the floating space debris to our space ranch from the money I had made from investing in the recent scam to colonize Phobos, one of Mar's two moons. Phobos was supposed to have somewhere in it's core two new elements unknown on Earth or anywhere else. Luckily, although I invested most of our money in the scam about mining Phobos, which never did have anything valuable on it's porous surface; I was able to sell my shares early in the bubble and we reaped a small fortune which we invested in the plastic magnets.
At this point in our new marriage, Daria had absolute faith in me and after the windfall of the money from the Phobos scam she was more than willing to endure the hardships of living with me as squatters in a sod hut on Mars and would work and work night and day for two years wrecking her health to chase my dream of fame and fortune as a Martian explorer and entrepreneur. Only later would I regret how I had overworked my new bride and how I had put her life and health in danger in the hostile Martian environment.
end part 2
fiction
edward w pritchard
editor's note
Bold and adventurous attempts to see the future and tell how things might be deserve to be applauded. None more bold or often wrong than minor writer ed pritchard. Here look how Pritchard sees Mars from a vantage before anyone went there. [ harry bailey editor]
start
life in space/[part 1]
When you first get to Mars it's not what you thought it would be like. Later after your illusions about yourself and life have dried into the red dusty rock of the Martian surface you blame the writers, the writers who you read as a child and who speculated from the security of earth on what Mars and space travel would be like. The writers who got things so wrong about Mars. It's really not about Mars at all, but it's about life trying desperately to thrive; even if for a while in the hostile environment of space and anywhere away from the sanctuary of Earth.
I came out to Mars on the rumble run, from the Moon to Mars nonstop. Me and my eighteen year old bride Daria. Just the two of us on a seven month extended honeymoon; us and an eleven man crew and 75 security cadets headed for a three year tour of Jupiter. All eighty six of them and me too couldn't keep our eyes or thoughts off Daria after the first two weeks away from earth.. A Woman in space is a rarity and a pretty woman is very unusual.
Mars first impression:
The first thing I saw on disembarking on Mars was the Mercator rats. On the tail, for defense and protection they have a large bulb of flesh. Through evolution or something the bulb is flashed at anything behind the rat and shows as a distinctly human face. The faces are supposed to look like celebrities from earth, or at least that's what general opinion is. It's unsettling and a good inhuman way to start to accommodate one to the unfamiliar Martian environment.
end part 1
Part 2
Life in space; squatters on Mars
My new bride Daria and I had just arrived on Mars and we were both eager to make our fortunes mining meteors. We hoped to find a small piece of land somewhere far from the settlements on Mars and attract asteroids containing rare and valuable minerals and metals from the main asteroid belt between Mars and Jupiter. We had bought at great expense the latest technology, six huge plastic magnets, to attract the floating space debris to our space ranch from the money I had made from investing in the recent scam to colonize Phobos, one of Mar's two moons. Phobos was supposed to have somewhere in it's core two new elements unknown on Earth or anywhere else. Luckily, although I invested most of our money in the scam about mining Phobos, which never did have anything valuable on it's porous surface; I was able to sell my shares early in the bubble and we reaped a small fortune which we invested in the plastic magnets.
At this point in our new marriage, Daria had absolute faith in me and after the windfall of the money from the Phobos scam she was more than willing to endure the hardships of living with me as squatters in a sod hut on Mars and would work and work night and day for two years wrecking her health to chase my dream of fame and fortune as a Martian explorer and entrepreneur. Only later would I regret how I had overworked my new bride and how I had put her life and health in danger in the hostile Martian environment.
end part 2
we are alone in an indifferent universe
Joining the invisible army/ edit 1 repost
fiction
edward w pritchard
I awoke to find myself preparing to fight against the Spanish soldiers, me allied with American Indians down Mexico way, circa the year 1530. The Spanish soldiers were well armored and rode heavily on their powerful horses. The Spanish army was small in number but properly armed with the technology and weapons of the day.
I was with the Indians and although I didn't speak their language I was aligned to their cause of the past. Through the study of history I had an expertise in their situation, methods and probable success against this powerful Spanish foe we faced in a few moments.
The Spanish troops slowly rode toward our position. They conquistadors were high up on a small hill slowly riding the powerful horses toward us, a small number of Indian soldiers and myself. It was dark and starless out and the moon had deserted the sky. The Indians braves and I were hiding in attack laying on the ground in high weeds about five feet apart. We clutched light but lethal thin iron spears effective weapons in close hand to hand combat. I rolled back a few flops and stared up waiting for the Spanish, anxious for combat, powerfully clutching the spear.
As the first horse walked over me its feet sunk into the dry dusty ground from the weight it carried. Looking to my left I nodded to my fellow warriors to prepare to strike with our iron spears.
The Indian warriors I fought with were suddenly transformed into man shaped heaps of bleached white bones. My only allies the extinct Indians were regal in decay; but no longer effective partners in my life and death battle. Alone I faced the Spanish soldiers; soldiers and an enemy who were all to real. Staring down at me from their powerful horses the Spanish warrior's seemed sympathetic to my heroic plight. Man to man they looked across at each other unsure for the moment how to attack me.
I had joined the invisible army of the past and apparently I had chosen the wrong side to ally myself with. The strong win it seemed despite the righteousness of the cause. Still I clutched my iron spear, twenty of my foes against one, I was prepared and ready to fight and die despite overwhelming odds.
We struggle alone in an indifferent universe.
Thursday, July 11, 2013
America's foreign wars
repost with edit/America's foreign wars
Unit Ohio, NCO training section 200; rambling coyotes
fiction
edward w pritchard
Most of the new recruits were alone sitting in groups of two or three at Bob Heton's Kentucky Fried Chicken here in Kent . Some were outside in winter cold clutching dearly to girl friends, a few Mother's were sitting in the parking lot in expensive cars with Son's leaning at the window and a half dozen soon to be soldiers were standing outside the doorway having a last smoke with their new Sergeant.
My son and I had been sitting here for over an hour having the original recipe fried chicken. There was plenty of chicken left and the sides were untouched and Paulie was passing out the balance of the box to the young men sitting around us. No food was allowed on the bus to Camp Perry Joint Training Center. Paulie and I were sitting at the same table we were at nine years ago when Sheriff Winston, my high school Assistant football coach, had called me here at midnight to retrieve Paulie and Sam Murphy for being inside the fence of the East Ohio Gas building.
As I watched Paulie interact with the other boys I doodled arrows with my thumb on the frosted window. Bob needed to get some heat here in his restaurant. I was fighting off the urge to check over Paulie's small suitcase he was allowed to take on the Bus to Camp Perry. After Camp Perry Paulie had ten weeks of Basic down South and then four months of individual training before his unit of the Ohio National Guard went to Pakistan. Paulie stood by the windows a minute and watched the couples outside kissing desperately. I read over the brochure about the operation at Camp Perry again. I had under lined most of it and drawn a few arrows. Paulie didn't want to take the leaflet with him and had handed it back to me. The Adjutant General in command at the Camp Perry training center is a woman.
The Sergeant shook my hand. I hadn't been in the military but my Dad had; he wouldn't talk about World War two. I listened to the Sergeant organize the group and get them on the bus. One of the Mother's was having trouble with her car and I took a look under the hood; standing by the car I could hear hear the Sergeant on the bus giving the squad their new nickname, the Rambling Coyotes. After the bus pulled off I watched it enter 76 West toward Lake Erie. The brochure had said they had a State of the art Dining facility at Camp Perry. I didn't know if the Camp where Paulie would start his training at to be a soldier sat directly on Lake Erie. I wanted to call my ex-wife but she had said goodbye yesterday to Paulie. Driving back to my apartment over the slippery treacherous roads I kept worrying about the bus and wondered how long it would be before Paulie could give me a call.
That night about about four AM I awoke from a bad dream. In my dream Paulie was standing with a soldier with a turban on his head, Muslim style. Both were wearing an American civil war gray uniform and both had twin artificial legs, the kind of artificial limbs that looked like springy thin metal pogo sticks. In my dream both the soldiers, Paulie and his enemy were standing very still, looking ancient, like images from a sad old fading picture.
Unit Ohio, NCO training section 200; rambling coyotes
fiction
edward w pritchard
Most of the new recruits were alone sitting in groups of two or three at Bob Heton's Kentucky Fried Chicken here in Kent . Some were outside in winter cold clutching dearly to girl friends, a few Mother's were sitting in the parking lot in expensive cars with Son's leaning at the window and a half dozen soon to be soldiers were standing outside the doorway having a last smoke with their new Sergeant.
My son and I had been sitting here for over an hour having the original recipe fried chicken. There was plenty of chicken left and the sides were untouched and Paulie was passing out the balance of the box to the young men sitting around us. No food was allowed on the bus to Camp Perry Joint Training Center. Paulie and I were sitting at the same table we were at nine years ago when Sheriff Winston, my high school Assistant football coach, had called me here at midnight to retrieve Paulie and Sam Murphy for being inside the fence of the East Ohio Gas building.
As I watched Paulie interact with the other boys I doodled arrows with my thumb on the frosted window. Bob needed to get some heat here in his restaurant. I was fighting off the urge to check over Paulie's small suitcase he was allowed to take on the Bus to Camp Perry. After Camp Perry Paulie had ten weeks of Basic down South and then four months of individual training before his unit of the Ohio National Guard went to Pakistan. Paulie stood by the windows a minute and watched the couples outside kissing desperately. I read over the brochure about the operation at Camp Perry again. I had under lined most of it and drawn a few arrows. Paulie didn't want to take the leaflet with him and had handed it back to me. The Adjutant General in command at the Camp Perry training center is a woman.
The Sergeant shook my hand. I hadn't been in the military but my Dad had; he wouldn't talk about World War two. I listened to the Sergeant organize the group and get them on the bus. One of the Mother's was having trouble with her car and I took a look under the hood; standing by the car I could hear hear the Sergeant on the bus giving the squad their new nickname, the Rambling Coyotes. After the bus pulled off I watched it enter 76 West toward Lake Erie. The brochure had said they had a State of the art Dining facility at Camp Perry. I didn't know if the Camp where Paulie would start his training at to be a soldier sat directly on Lake Erie. I wanted to call my ex-wife but she had said goodbye yesterday to Paulie. Driving back to my apartment over the slippery treacherous roads I kept worrying about the bus and wondered how long it would be before Paulie could give me a call.
That night about about four AM I awoke from a bad dream. In my dream Paulie was standing with a soldier with a turban on his head, Muslim style. Both were wearing an American civil war gray uniform and both had twin artificial legs, the kind of artificial limbs that looked like springy thin metal pogo sticks. In my dream both the soldiers, Paulie and his enemy were standing very still, looking ancient, like images from a sad old fading picture.
Wednesday, July 10, 2013
Virtual Children/ edit 2
Virtual Children/ edit 2
fiction
edward w pritchard
Because of the work, trouble and expense of raising children, young couples began to have virtual children rather than biological offspring. No virtual child was ever sick, sad, over weight or suffering from angst, at least not beyond a certain point necessary to full fill customary parental needs.
Naturally, this fad started in America and America being all about business besides the obvious social and cultural implications several economics outputs occurred because of the phenomena of virtual children.
First a cottage industry of middlemen and interlopers developed designed to make a living from the trend. Here we review a few of the steps a prospective parent would take before seriously considering virtual children.
The prospective parent of a virtual child can begin their search for the perfect offspring with the Apple [trademark] "app" called "I honestly want at least one child," a survey of raising virtual children. The app is extremely effective at screening out lukewarm potential parents who haven't thought through the ups and downs of parenthood and is modestly priced and easy to use to begin the initial information gathering process before venturing into the world of having a virtual [ flesh and blood- edit??] child, boy or girl[ male or female?].
Next various on line Universities have a two year degree in "You and your virtual Bud", [financing available] such as the University of Tuscon [ and others?] [ note credits do not necessarily transfer]. Also various Churches [and] [ agnostic co-operatives] provide pre-counseling for no fees [donations are appreciated].
Third a trial period is available before the time commitment and funds are made to obtain virtual children. Using 3 D printer technology a model virtual child may be downloaded at participating [ Kinko's] locations. Note however because the cost of the paper 3D technology is expensive proceed cautiously here [edit]. Also large fees and fines accrue if the model isn't deconstructed according to local laws which vary by jurisdiction.
Is a virtual child for you [and or your spouse/partner] ?.
go to our on line web site for more information from this author
.con/dubious advice
virtual children part 2
fiction
edward w pritchard
see virtual children part 1 Jan blog same author
Virtual Children
part 2
edit 1:
Education of virtual children
Teachers unions have not benefited from the rapid growth in American families choosing to have virtual children rather than flesh and blood children. Of course no virtual child should be educated by a non union teacher. This is to insure each virtual child received a uniformly mediocre equal education along with all other children. Related is standardized testing for virtual children. Since virtual children have less distraction in their lives than biological children minimum standardized test scores for virtual students should be raised 20% above existing standards. Of course there will be the usual clamor and complaint that virtual children in wealthier districts receive more than equal treatment than their poorer peers. Already studies have shown that wealthier virtual students tend to receive more personal freedom in their schools and more importantly are subject to less "big brother" type visual inspection and observation than their poorer peers but more research is needed to collaborate this conclusion. [ See The difference between Illinois State Prison 1953 and Salem Junior High 2015 same author March blog]
Athletics
A hotly contested topic in virtual children revolves around steroid use. The subject of virtual steroids is complicated by the fact that there is little agreement on a definition of enhanced performance in virtual activities. Suffice to say this is an area that will continue to be controversial.
Health Care
Nearly 51% of virtual children have no health care, a shocking statistic to those who are employed in the lucrative per profit delivery of health care government subsidized services. The health care providers and insurance industries have been lobbying for State mandated minimum coverage of all virtual children. The ideal payer for the uninsured virtual youths look to be citizens without virtual children, and of course the elderly homeowners.
Housing
Virtual children are skewing the housing numbers causing confusion in government weekly and monthly indexes. A revision for births and deaths of virtual children is being investigated.
Retirement
How will today's virtual children ever retire someday with two houses, two large cars and how will they spend their golden years if they have to worry about money, sickness, and Chinese workers taking their opportunities and ruining their peace of mind?
Virtual Children themselves:
They are loud, aggressive, rude, disrespectful, lazy, irreverent and smart mouthed. Alarmingly, virtual American children are already falling behind oriental children in Math and Science.
fiction
edward w pritchard
Because of the work, trouble and expense of raising children, young couples began to have virtual children rather than biological offspring. No virtual child was ever sick, sad, over weight or suffering from angst, at least not beyond a certain point necessary to full fill customary parental needs.
Naturally, this fad started in America and America being all about business besides the obvious social and cultural implications several economics outputs occurred because of the phenomena of virtual children.
First a cottage industry of middlemen and interlopers developed designed to make a living from the trend. Here we review a few of the steps a prospective parent would take before seriously considering virtual children.
The prospective parent of a virtual child can begin their search for the perfect offspring with the Apple [trademark] "app" called "I honestly want at least one child," a survey of raising virtual children. The app is extremely effective at screening out lukewarm potential parents who haven't thought through the ups and downs of parenthood and is modestly priced and easy to use to begin the initial information gathering process before venturing into the world of having a virtual [ flesh and blood- edit??] child, boy or girl[ male or female?].
Next various on line Universities have a two year degree in "You and your virtual Bud", [financing available] such as the University of Tuscon [ and others?] [ note credits do not necessarily transfer]. Also various Churches [and] [ agnostic co-operatives] provide pre-counseling for no fees [donations are appreciated].
Third a trial period is available before the time commitment and funds are made to obtain virtual children. Using 3 D printer technology a model virtual child may be downloaded at participating [ Kinko's] locations. Note however because the cost of the paper 3D technology is expensive proceed cautiously here [edit]. Also large fees and fines accrue if the model isn't deconstructed according to local laws which vary by jurisdiction.
Is a virtual child for you [and or your spouse/partner] ?.
go to our on line web site for more information from this author
.con/dubious advice
virtual children part 2
fiction
edward w pritchard
see virtual children part 1 Jan blog same author
Virtual Children
part 2
edit 1:
Education of virtual children
Teachers unions have not benefited from the rapid growth in American families choosing to have virtual children rather than flesh and blood children. Of course no virtual child should be educated by a non union teacher. This is to insure each virtual child received a uniformly mediocre equal education along with all other children. Related is standardized testing for virtual children. Since virtual children have less distraction in their lives than biological children minimum standardized test scores for virtual students should be raised 20% above existing standards. Of course there will be the usual clamor and complaint that virtual children in wealthier districts receive more than equal treatment than their poorer peers. Already studies have shown that wealthier virtual students tend to receive more personal freedom in their schools and more importantly are subject to less "big brother" type visual inspection and observation than their poorer peers but more research is needed to collaborate this conclusion. [ See The difference between Illinois State Prison 1953 and Salem Junior High 2015 same author March blog]
Athletics
A hotly contested topic in virtual children revolves around steroid use. The subject of virtual steroids is complicated by the fact that there is little agreement on a definition of enhanced performance in virtual activities. Suffice to say this is an area that will continue to be controversial.
Health Care
Nearly 51% of virtual children have no health care, a shocking statistic to those who are employed in the lucrative per profit delivery of health care government subsidized services. The health care providers and insurance industries have been lobbying for State mandated minimum coverage of all virtual children. The ideal payer for the uninsured virtual youths look to be citizens without virtual children, and of course the elderly homeowners.
Housing
Virtual children are skewing the housing numbers causing confusion in government weekly and monthly indexes. A revision for births and deaths of virtual children is being investigated.
Retirement
How will today's virtual children ever retire someday with two houses, two large cars and how will they spend their golden years if they have to worry about money, sickness, and Chinese workers taking their opportunities and ruining their peace of mind?
Virtual Children themselves:
They are loud, aggressive, rude, disrespectful, lazy, irreverent and smart mouthed. Alarmingly, virtual American children are already falling behind oriental children in Math and Science.
President Obama's health insurance proposals
President Obama's health insurance proposals
fiction
edward w pritchard
those few readers, unfamiliar with author's works, should know that writer here claims ability to have fictional or deceased characters from history and literature speak for him or to him at times; here Blanche DuBois from "Streetcar Named Desire" of Tennessee Williams fame speaks:
Author
hello Blanche
Blanche DuBois
Well when it comes to the debate on whether or not government should provide health insurance to it's constituents I guess I would say:
{with a thick Southern Accent}
I have always relied on the kindness of strangers myself.
end
fiction
edward w pritchard
those few readers, unfamiliar with author's works, should know that writer here claims ability to have fictional or deceased characters from history and literature speak for him or to him at times; here Blanche DuBois from "Streetcar Named Desire" of Tennessee Williams fame speaks:
Author
hello Blanche
Blanche DuBois
Well when it comes to the debate on whether or not government should provide health insurance to it's constituents I guess I would say:
{with a thick Southern Accent}
I have always relied on the kindness of strangers myself.
end
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)