Memorial Day 2015, ever vigilant for those we Love

Memorial Day 2015, ever vigilant for those we Love

fiction
Edward w Pritchard

Author is of that type accused more ready to help a stranger than his best friend, hence he must rely on the kindness of Strangers today. Ours sins haunt us from afar. Christians without a clue.

It's so difficult to kick the children out of the nest and let them fend for themselves. Will they come to understand that life is not a free ride and no one cares if you eat today or freeze tonight?

Two philosophers who hated each other argued endlessly over how to care for a family and the role of the individual toward the State, their country. Which is the higher duty, the Father to the family or the Father to the State?

Two philosopher, German of course,  Hegel and Schopenhauer, and way back when wrote and wrote about Duty, honor, and War; this Memorial Day as we fret over who to put first Family or country we republish something we wrote elsewhere, " Patriots in the Ready".

"Patriots in the ready" is about some inmates of the asylum who were recruited to save their country when no one else was available.

Memorial Day 2015, ever vigilant for those we Love we wait left wondering about the whys, and how's of life.

Meanwhile author worries tonight about old friends and vanished family sick in Hospital.

Everybody knows this is nowhere.- Carry on, carry on;- the inmates have left the asylum.

"Patriots in the Ready" a story about the noble Country of Turkey. A story about personal problems and Public duty to Country. Life goes on no one knows why.

Saturday, May 28, 2011

Patriots, In the Ready

Patriots in the Ready

fiction
edward w pritchard

Note to Greeks, story is a Metaphor, please don't take offense, moment chosen is historical, interpretation is not intended to be slanted. Author admires Greek civilization, author is ignorant of actual political situation in Cyprus in 1974 or today.

Patriots, In the Ready

Situation critical Ephesus Turkey, summer 1974.

A Greek madman was threatening, we had no army just here, the Western powers were preoccupied and Nikos Sampson, Cypriot Greek,  had littered Cyprus with graves and now threatened invasion of Turkey proper.

I was in charge of our small town's defense. We sent the women and children to hide in the hills in the ancient way. Our Turkish army was at Bodum, Herachia and Iniz but here there were no troops to assist our small town directly on the coast and likely invasion spot.

I had twenty men and boys in the ready waiting to die defending our town against superior forces.

Desperate I recruited thirty patients from the nearby insane asylum. Crazy yes, all, in various ways but today each a patriotic Turk.

Dawn broke, no invasion here, Turkey was invading Cyprus, the Greek Colonels had fallen our town was safe.

My fifty men celebrated for two days. Women kissed us and we were carried food and drink on trays until we could eat no more.

I waited until late the third day to take my thirty soldiers back to the asylum.

Memorial day 2015; why am I supposed to care about people in Idaho or Vermont again?

Memorial day 2015; why am I supposed to care about people in Idaho or Vermont again?

fiction
Edward W Pritchard

The United States aren't too affiliated too much anymore.

Why is I who is always in Ohio so much and so often anymore supposed to care about people in Idaho or Vermont again? Do I know or care enough about them and people from other of the United States to put on a military uniform, pack a rifle and march clear to Russia to fight to protect their interests?

It's a moot point me being so old anymore, my priorities have changed. Still it's an interesting question.

Can a Patriotic song be written and composed to Unite the United States if circumstance poofs up an emergency requiring patriotism, action and self sacrifice to defend and honor one's country?

People in the United States are United by us all wanting things, it's why we aren't interested in Marxism. We desperately want material stuff and the freedom to pursue and acquire a garage full of Things and items.

Our ancestors and predecessors met the challenge when duty called. They were busy with their self interest at the time I suppose but they answered the call to Duty.

Honor our ancestors this Memorial day 2015 and spend a minute trying to understand their motivations. It's a fitting and appropriate thing to do.  

this means that; Holidays are hard on some of us

this means that; Holidays are hard on some of us

fiction
Edward w Pritchard


Holidays are hard on some of us. Alienation becomes center stage and disintegration from society
spoils the joyful mood.

Nothing to buy and nowhere to celebrate. It's just another weekend to us this Memorial day as we forget to think about Soldiers who have died and suffer instead ourselves in the field Hospital alone with our memories.

Here's one of those "this means that" stories below about Holidays:

roadie etiquette

fiction
Edward w Pritchard

Rules of etiquette change for roadies as the original band changes. Members of the group come and go but the original band name usually stays intact. Individual band members change with the success and failures that come with a life in and out of the spotlight and fame scars people in different ways.

Over the years a roadie's stamina will wane. A roadie may work at one thousand successful gigs but one blundering failure obscures decades of diligent effort. Sadly one bad setup is how a roadie will be remembered. Ultimately no one remembers a roadie or prints his picture on an album cover.

A roadies nickname will change occasionally. The changes that a roadies nickname go through are often more revealing of a roadies reputation and status with the band than the tone of voice the band members greet the roadie with in meetings after work or the fact that the roadie must stay at a cheaper hotel than the band members or no longer rides to gigs in a limo or a taxi when hitting a new town or exotic location.

A roadie knows he has become obsolete when instead of being moon scar or boner he becomes Mr. Johnson or "nuisance" to members of the group.

Of course original members of the band who are still around after half a century don't want to be reminded of their age especially by a roadie when he is carrying their guitar cases or setting up drums. Roadies should address band members only when necessary in the course of business and not be chummy or touchy feely with them. Roadies should not talk during meet and greets and shouldn't express personal opinions unless solicited. After work don't ask band members about their health or their private lives.

Roadies don't have pension plans and no one writes books or magazine articles about retired or replaced roadies.

Rules of etiquette for roadies change over time and a good roadie will have thick skin and not confuse proximately and access to band members with friendship or fame itself.

how can the coal industry in America all go bankrupt?

how can the coal industry all go bankrupt?

fiction
Edward w Pritchard


Back in 2011 this Author predicted the Coal Industry would soon have serious problems. [1] Now in May of 2015 BTU, which is the stock symbol for Peabody energy, and WLT, which is Walter energy and ANI, and ACR are about to default on their bonds and bankruptcy will follow soon.

President Obama and the green lobby have destroyed "Prince" Coal in America and the Great State of West Virginia has lost a lot of mining jobs of Late.

How can the coal mining industry in America go Bankrupt? Easy go down to Charleston WVA and find the only one large law firm there and file a few papers and the coal industry is relieved of it's debts and only a few equity investors will suffer for a while as they lose the rest of their money they invested in coal.

That's the beauty of Capitalism, waves of Schumpeter's creative destruction. No Wars in historical site for the USA so no coal is needed. Let the coal rest in the ground for a while until it is needed again someday until tanks roll and cannons shoot again.

[1] here's what author wrote before, story is as clear as coal sledge but author sees it as a prediction that coal stocks would be in trouble. The story below was one of many about pre-Hitler Weimer Germany by same author.

Thursday, December 22, 2011

Wiemar Germany is where my heart finds fellowship/draft 1, part 5

Wiemar Germany is where my heart finds fellowship/draft 1, part 5

fiction
edward w pritchard

My brother, the German soldier has came to our families fishing cottage here on the beautiful Lake to lecture me officially for the Family on my profligate ways.

Father's money is nearly gone says Hans. Not just because of me being a spendthrift with Father's checkbook but also because of German inflation and a series of bad investments by our Father and Hans my Brother. I must talk to Father about finances which means I must return to coal mining territory, where our Family home is. I hate the thought of going back home; the smell of our neighborhood turns my stomach for we live on the largest slag heap in the world. Coal is money, and money stinks, to me at least. But I must go home for I am good with money and finance when I am not being perverse. I must leave Berlin and return to coal country. To the mess and smell of the coal tar with it's sticky streets and pervasive smell of over-work. Men toiling dawn to dusk, and women, such as my Mother killing themselves to keep a dilapated shack clean. Back, back home to coal country to rescue the Family fortune so my Brother Hans can continue to torture the weak and I can spend my nights in a whirl of sexual deparavity in Wiemar Berlin.
end part 5

books without value

books without value

fiction
Edward w Pritchard

The barb wired fence from up-close was surprisingly thin and wobbly for enclosing a full grown bull and five cows. Not electrified to the touch either as gingerly through the thin wire I rambled to get up close to the herd.

The cows were resting on all fours and one Bull was standing dazed with relaxation as I walked purposely up the gentle slope toward the apple orchard where the five cows and one bull rested in the shade.

The Bull moved quickly towards me and it was shocking how much ground he covered as he charged at me as I scrambled back across the fence and into neutral territory. Later when I told my father what had happened he was too dumbfounded with my stupidity to punish me.

Twenty years later at a sales meeting the big Boss was just about to start the presentation when I was distracted as young woman after girl drifted in and found a seat and sat with a tight short pink skirt and a note pad and pen on her petite lap. Big boss man smiled at me as he noted the effect the woman had on me glad to see that I knew my place in the pecking order around here. He began his speech with: "unless the customers are rushing to make appointments to see you, you  are becoming obsolete."

Now a days no women in tight pink skirts text or call me to chat and the only way I end up talking to an attractive woman at all is if I aggressively sit down too close next to her at a Panera or Casino risking a charge by a Bull.

Most of what I learned in life is like Books without value, not too useful when one is in the trenches.

stations of the cross

stations of the cross

fiction
Edward w Pritchard

More than likely your Father actually never really taught you to box preferring instead to send you out into the world to learn to defend for yourself on you own. Although there is a shared set of stories and lore  about the first punch and the old round house one two that Your Father told you about sixty years ago neither of you are very professional in your boxing presentation.

When you and the old guy you hate in some ways so much finally square off to fight long after your Father is dead and gone it's not long before you realize he's just sparring, just jabbing and paring with you and he 's not himself; your Father is how he was when he was young and he won't use any of the lethal tricks they taught him when he was a soldier. He loves you so much. Meanwhile as you slug away at your Father's thin arms and young face you hurl a hundred submerged insults and slurs at him as he smiles down at you. It's then you finally realize he was just trying to take care of his family as he found it, as it was presented to him and all those old sins you have turned over in your mind a thousand times are not epic transgressions just small steps in making a living and adapting to the trepidations of life your Father went through taking care of His family.

Right in the middle of a punch at his unfamiliar face your Father will disappear. Your son will come up behind and tell you your Father who your son never met is walking in the darkness out  in the light snow out along the highway on a distant Hill looking for the lug nuts to the rear wheels on his car so your Father doesn't have to buy new lugs for the car and can use the money instead for food and other things for His family.

About then you realize that if you go out there to help your Father find the lug nuts to the car he will be hanging on the cross with his arms stretched out with nails in his hands and feet, and a bloody  wound in his side and his head slumping really badly to one side with his broken torso elongated un-naturally from the ordeal.

Then you have to go over to Pilate and beg for Jesus' body so you can preform the burial rites and put the situation to rest.

Which great artist will paint the Disposition painting and what will the demoralized faces look like as they remove the broken man from the Cross?

everything becomes an original for talent and genius

everything becomes an original for talent and genius

fiction
Edward w Pritchard

Ever hear Snooks Eaglin the blind guitarist play a song that he didn't own? It doesn't matter who did it before, even if it was Chuck Berry or the Beatles, Snooks Eaglin does it with style and uniqueness.

There's something about freedom and the spontaneous-ness of music in America. Blind, Snooks Eaglin must be lead on and off the stage by the Bass player but once the song begins the Blind guy gets it right.

Check out Snooks Eaglin cover Johnny B Goode or Saint James Infirmary on you tube. It's life affirming and enjoyable. Everything becomes an original for talent and genius.

your secret file, for Dame Hillary

your secret file, for Dame Hillary

fiction
Edward w Pritchard

Work for a bureaucracy or a large organization and before long they will began to keep a secret file on you. Just in case, for the Gestapo of your time and place so to speak.

Everyone everywhere is in a secret conspiracy to ruin everyone else. It's a hanger-on from the days before plenty in the land when there wasn't enough food or water.

A certain percent of the society has a predilection to spy and keep secret dossiers. There are two strategies to combat the practice, actually three.

Three do no wrong, two be oblivious, or have money that solves most problems. Of courses you could have perceived power which will accumulate the secret file but delay it in be used against you in the workplace.

just let things unfold; the World is my idea after all

just let things unfold; the World is my idea after all

fiction
Edward w Pritchard

Just let things unfold; the World is my idea [1]  after all. What does it mean? Merely, take no offense when you call to wish someone Happy Birthday and they are irritated because they were in the middle of mowing the lawn an epic event in their World view. You have your perspective and everyone else has theirs.

Just Be. Others have their idiosyncrasies and hangups, I have customs and habits. The native speaker is always a tad sanctimonious with the foreigners attempts at communication. In baseball, Love  and politics cheer your candidate and Boo the rest in a timely fashion. After, continue elsewhere in silence.

Move about your world invisibly most of the time. Wouldn't it be nice to forget the past as it happened? As for the future I have came to grip with my mortality; after I am gone nothing will exist that I can influence or control.

[1] "the world is my idea" Schopenhauer's observation that reality moves from our brain outward. 

Lebron James you don't make mistake after mistake

Lebron James you don't make mistake after mistake

fiction
Edward w Pritchard

Lebron I am a fan but I must take exception with your post game comments yesterday that in the playoff game number four that you made mistake after mistake. You were just pursuing opportunities to help your team win.

Good luck Akronite. You have come a long way from sitting as a youth in the back seat of an old car with your knees about to touch the ceiling of the vehicle with your Auntie and Mother on the first of the Month surrounded by bags and bags of groceries from the convenience  store up on the corner of Tallmadge Ave and Cuyahoga Falls Ave.

Trudge on our hopes and dream follow your efforts. What I wrote about Lebron James before, again:

In praise of LeBron James

fiction
edward w Pritchard

note- author is an admirer of Mr. James charity work; author is a fan of Lebron's basketball exploits. Author is jealous of Lebron's ability to be instantly recognizable by his silhouette and ability to just use a first name as his calling card.

the following story was inspired by Lebron James, no jinx or insult intended
rewrite/ edit


start

the basketball super star loses his right leg


fiction
edward w pritchard


One chomp from the tiger and the leg was gone from below the knee down. The tiger didn't even eat the leg; too much muscle said the ambulance driver about twenty minutes later. But the ambulance driver may have been drinking.


Time slowed for the super star then. Everything was blurred but crystal clear and as he died the celebrity athlete saw the structure that every day events were composed of. He was in shock he guessed after the tiger bit off his lower leg and he knew he would die soon.


At the photo shoot all was pandemonium. The backup model had been calm. She called 911. She knew I wouldn't make it. She was beautiful in a sad way and if I wasn't dieing soon I wish I could call her. The policeman tied the tourniquet and propped up my head, out of respect. He had seen me in game four at the arena he said to the Doctor at the emergency room.


The camera guy was throwing up. Over and over, there was a lot of blood. This kind of blood is a strange color. Shocking to see. His assistant used an umbrella, one of the props for the shoot, to slide my leg away from the tiger and he wrapped it his jacket. It's cold here in April.


The tiger has blood on his face. He's just sitting there. The handler hit the tiger hard several times after she got the leg out of his mouth. Mostly for posturing. Her career as a animal handler just got smashed, I see it her face. She won't look at me. She gave the tiger several shots of something and the tiger is looking drowsy and foolish. The tiger must be used to be treated like an object.
I can't tell why the tiger bit me but it was remarkable how fast the tiger moved. I am not as quick as I was when I was playing in the NBA but the tiger had remarkable reflexes.


It's hot in here and I can smell the tiger. After he bit me I could smell the aggression in the air. I smell old to myself. The lead model in the shoot keeps wanting to leave but she is supposed to press the towels against my upper calf muscle and change the towels when they get too blood red. The backup model is holding my head up and giving me sips of the Pepsi. It's a Pepsi shoot, I guess someone else will have to finish my twelve million dollar campaign this Summer and Fall.


The camera man is whispering to the policeman but I can hear every word. The camera man is thinking this will be bad for him too. He might lose work. He wants the policeman to let him take a few pictures before the ambulance arrives. The policeman is black too. He starts protecting me after that. He has his gun drawn from before. He didn't have to shoot the tiger. The trainer quickly got the animal under control. Now the tiger can barely keep his head up from the drugs. Someone should wipe my blood from the tigers face.


I have put on some weight. It's a little embarrassing. The policeman and the backup model had to help the two ambulance guys lift me on the gurney. They laid my leg on the gurney too. The back-up model squeezed my hand when we left. I never meet the right person at the right time. It's always that way with me. If Shelton's ever gets here I am going to tell him to give the backup model some more jobs. Maybe he can arrange it with the Pepsi guys. Shelton's a good agent but he never seems to be around when I need him. I am not going to worry about that. I feel really strange laying here. I am surprised I am still alive. It hurts up in my back for some reason.


I can smell the Bacardi on the ambulance driver's breath. He's good at his job though. He looks me straight in the eyes and he treats me with respect. He looks like he has had a hard life. He's in charge of these two guys in the ambulance.


I wonder if John Lennon was in pain after he got shot when he went to the emergency room. My back is aching. I heard a shot when we were in the elevator, They must have shot the tiger as soon as I left.


Shelton never did show up. He just lost his best client. I guess this is the end for me. The former NBA superstar's last fifteen minutes of fame.

end

left wondering, time for a woman President

left wondering, time for a woman President

fiction
Edward w Pritchard

When a woman is finally elected President in Charge of our Country sometimes out of the blue she will get everyone in the White House involved in some deep cleaning with buckets and bleach or an extended remodeling  project. None of the other world leaders will understand her and the only constant about our first very ambitious woman President will be she always negotiates based on her own interest not Platonic Truth or the Kantian Categorical Imperatives.

When a woman is finally in charge of the White House two large rooms will be required to keep all the boxes of love letters and memoires from her secret admirers. Ten Supreme court cases will be required to decide who can see her emails or look inside her purse or at her secret schedule showing her comings and goings.

When a woman is finally in charge of the White House most policy will concern Domestic Issues but as Madame President gets older that may change. Depending on the Time of the Month she may become unpredictable in general reason unknown.

When a Woman becomes President of our County a lot of things will definitely be for the better. Occasionally the secret service however will be in a panic because they can't locate Mrs. President who has grabbed an old green lawn chair and is sitting out on the White House Lawn reading a Cosmo.

When a woman becomes President she will need a little extra time between crisis's and affairs of State to tidy up her make up or talk in whispers to her sister on the phone.

After a Woman runs the country leaves office some of us will be left wondering but in general things will be for the better and certainly will be a lot better than when our President was a man.

Saint Mary of the Driveway

Saint Mary of the Driveway

fiction
Edward w Pritchard

Saint Mary doesn't worry when she parks her blue Sedan  on the steep driveway in front of the House; I told it is hard on the brakes and undercarriage of the car to sit all night on a steep slope but she just smiled. I can only see Saint Mary's eyes when she smiles because of the black veil.

Saint Mary since she was a little girl always attended the community events and  afterschool programs diligently. Saint Mary waited on line for hours and hours while the volunteers and clerical employees organized the upcoming festivities. Saint Mary never ducked out sick out of after school Bowling league, glee choir, violin lessons or lacrosse class.

After she had children Saint Mary drove the clan from place to place in the old powder blue Sedan and on hot bright Sunny days she put a shield sun blocker rear window visor in place so the car wouldn't get too stuffy and stifling for the kiddies when they returned from Festivities. If the guys were hungry on the way Home Saint Mary had no scruples about waiting on line at Micky D's for some unhealthy chow.

I never heard St. Mary specifically talk about it but I am sure she feels that what a full time stay at home Mom does is as important as the job what that a congresswoman or School nurse does. In fact St Mary certainly feels there is nothing unfeminine about a Woman taking care of children full time and the same goes for Men.

tune in, turn on drop out; the elderly spend their days at the Casinos / part 2

tune in, turn on, drop out; the elderly spend their days at the Casino/ part 2

fiction
Edward w Pritchard

Like the exercise gym which originated the concept that the elderly must walk always around with a colored swipe card around their neck for monitoring, the Casino with the swipe card on a string rewards the elderly patron for constantly keeping their identification card in the Machine by providing extra large tee shirts for men, and high fat foods and beverages for Women.

Using secret technology and programming techniques the Casino monitors and directs one's experience by use the Swipe Card. Different colors for different levels of wealth and vulnerability to a manipulated gambling experience. Continuous consumption of the wish for and possibility of obtaining sudden wealth is the apple of temptation that brings the elderly customer to the casinos.

First the elderly couple gets a piece of direct mail from the casino promising a fabulous gift. After standing in long lines wrapping around the climate controlled music filled Casino the customers all get a purple blanket or towel with the Name of the Indian tribe who owns the Casino. The towel is delivered in a miniature plastic bag. Taken to the elderly couple's residence the gift bag is stuffed in the top of a closet until finally deposited at the Goodwill or Mennonite charity store. The Goodwill won't accept the unopened Casino Candy because they have hundreds of such items in stock already.

To discourage elderly persons from losing the electronic swipe card a glowing bright orange string is provided that can be seen from afar. The card itself although vigilantly silent provides volumes of valuable information about the patron to the Casino marketing department. One day everyone in society will be required to wear a swipe card around their neck and the same one will be used at the gym, the grocery store and Starbucks and the Casinos.

If the elderly casino customer by chance wins money at the slot machines the swipe card is promptly voided and reissued by the Casino staff. If one gambles at a machine without a card the overhead music volume is raised to deafening levels to drive the pariah out of the establishment.

me being superficial

me being superficial

fiction

Edward w Pritchard

Although obtuse in my social manners and handling of every day intimate customs I have always tried not to be superficial with my friends and relatives. Yet with age I find that being superficial most of the time is the appropriate and practical way to maintain friendships and relationships.

When one values the connection with another intimacy and  honesty quickly disconnect the bond as someone takes offense to something said though true and truthful. In time especially if one fears being a tad of a loner again one's becomes superficial in their conversations, observations and comments.

Some people have trouble being light hearted or popularly flippant. There is always a volcano about to emerge and erupt beneath the surface that must be obscured and hidden to keep the peace and maintain normalcy.

Always an outlaw always on the run, even with those they love.

the world is my idea; a day at the strip club

the world is my idea a day at the strip club

fiction
Edward w Pritchard

It's been so long since I spent time at the strip club that I have no idea how the bouncers and girls at the Exotic dancing clubs handle the plethora of ubiquitous camera phones that everybody now carries about. Come to think of it I never saw anyone back in the Day at the strip club with a Kodak camera clicking over the merchandise. I don't even remember any signs like don't be obtuse; no cameras allowed.

Back in the day at the strip club if one was lonely, an absolute loner, always sat alone and aloof and had nice strong shoulders from working out at the gym it was totally Ok for one of the girls to feel up your back and chest but no way could one return the procedure. Every girl a student of human nature quickly sized one up and used stock line number four; it was her first time dancing and she was earning money for schooling  at Youngstown State to become an archeologist. Slip her a twenty and she will tell you all about  Nebuchadnezzar until she had to dash off to dance, no one has been a stripper since my first time fifty years ago at the Palace burlesque in Canton.

Speaking of cell phones and camera's I wonder how the pro's, the girl's who are experts at  deciphering human nature, handle the matter of giving a man her undivided attention what with cell phones, and constant texting and other men waving hundred dollar bills at her while you and her are discussing Nebuchadnezzar's hanging gardens? It's so degrading when you are talking to your favorite temporary gal to have her constantly looking over their shoulders checking out the competition.

I wonder how the girl's at the strip club handle Facebook, linked in and twitter with customer's? Does an exotic dancer use social media to build a following, a stable so to speak or does she just sell her wares one dance at a time? The world has changed since my day. The girl's who used to use a nom de jour  [ alias] of Dolly, or Chantel to protect her privacy but attract clients now probably send their customer base an electronic Christmas card on Twitter.

The World was my idea back in the day but things have changed for me in the last decade as I have pursued other sins and others interests.

tune in, turn on drop out; the eldelry hide out at the casinos

tune in, turn on, drop out; the elderly hide out at the casinos

fiction
Edward w Pritchard


Like the Native Americans drinking at the Rez since Wounded Knee 1890, the African Americans from 1920 to 1985 with their blues music, boogie woogie and thunder bird wine, or the hippies in the 1960's with their protests and pot the Elderly alive now in America have secretly been spending their time and money at the casinos of America.

Who will listen, cheer, or boo Politicians on the election trail, who will vote for the next school levy and who will support standardized testing for first graders if the elderly of America forego their duties and responsibilities and hide out day and night in the Casinos of America?

What can be done to stop the elderly from dropping off the grid and return instead to the bourgeoisie with it's enticements of shopping at Lowe's or the mall, continuous home improvements, and  monotonous daytime TV infomercials promoting pain relief and health remedies, Viagra, and incontinence products delivered in unmarked envelopes.

How can the elderly pay their part B Medicare co pays if they lose their social security monies at the Casinos? Who will attend the July fourth patriotic festivities this year if the elderly boycott public responsibilities and hide out at the Casinos. How can the elderly attend professional sporting events if they prefer to not buy the expensive tickets and chill out instead at the nearest Casino?

Have the Casinos with their free play, free meals, voluptuous waitresses and jackpots corrupted the elderly of America?

Stay tuned to this blog for an inside look at the sinful, disgusting and confidential shenanigans Mom and Pop now over sixty do each day at the nearest Casino. No fool like an old fool and no sinner like a pathetic wrinkled, crumpled Elderly American throwing away their best years in the futile pursuit of filthy riches and escape from every day responsibilities.

Frailty you be Old and disgusting.

no sense of humor?

no sense of humor?

fiction
Edward w Pritchard

From time to time author is criticized by one of his few readers.

Today we address a recent critique that author has no sense of Humor. For now we will ignore the second criticism from same reader that author's individual stories each contain more styles in conglomerate than an Amish patchwork quilt being sold at a Charity bazaar.

To the first criticism that author has no sense of humor said story, an attempt at humor, is reposted:

jack the ripper totally ripped off and off the record

This is not part of Come Jack, Poor Jack  parts 1 through 14

fiction
edward w pritchard

The premise- Jack the Ripper has agreed to talk on this blog with your author about his brutal crimes committed in 1888 in White Chapel of London England; however Jack the Ripper has become upset with Author's lack of readers.  In an effort to create more readership new ideas are being bantered about that will gain readership and popularity for the interviews with the notorious Jack the Ripper.

Author- Ok, I am not sure but here's the first idea: Jack the Ripper and Gandhi the famous pacifist of India will travel the world in endless summers part 5 and share their adventures with the readers of this blog; chasing girls, wise cracking and searching for the ephemeral endless perfect wave. Of course confrontation and strife will occur because of differences in philosophy between the two Brits. In the end they will be reconciled and Jack's murderous ways and slashing and cutting of unlucky middle aged women along the way will be forgiven by Gandhi. The movie ends with sunset and soft surfer music as the guys paddle out for one last ride toward the sandy beach somewhere in Africa.

Author- Second idea to promote readership for the interviews with Jack the Ripper; Dual survival- Jack the Ripper and Queen Victoria will be flown to The Mountains of Montana in winter in the American West. It will be bitterly cold and there will be a basic tension between the couple because of Jack's notorious reputation as a mass murdered. Queen Victoria will be a good sport however and in the end they will successfully conquer their hostile environment.

Author- third idea to promote readership for the Jack the Ripper interviews on this blog. Jack the Ripper will live on Radio review contemporary American Porno movies recently released. Concentrating on S&[and];M movies. Listeners will call in and participate in lively banner with the famous celebrity. There will be an underlying tension between host and audience because Jack the Ripper will come off as somewhat quaint and Victorian, a little square and old fashion regarding the subject matter. In the end however, the show will be amusing to the passive listener as Jack evolves and masters his new assignment and the material.

Author- what do you think?

Jack the ripper- well, so so I guess

Author- How about Jack the Ripper the musical comedy, based loosely on  Shakespeare's  Merchant of Venice; the upper class Jack the Ripper will be outwitted time after time by aging Prostitutes who are working class members of White Chapel. An underlying Marxist theme will be present but the focus will be on fast paced comedy and lively music. Many jokes will center on the dictum that no blood will be shed and the drooping limp knife blade of Jack the Ripper which will leave the audience in stitches.
end

431/ part 3

431/ part 3

fiction
Edward w Pritchard

Read 431/ parts 1, 2 and 3 together

May 06, 2015 early morning:


One of my jailers took the extreme step of writing a note to myself the prisoner on the Wall of my prison cell with a magic marker after reading my post 431/ part 2.

I have been allowed access to the Mountains temporarily to mine for Emeralds. Hunter green, opaque suggesting brittleness to the touch an emerald is the birthstone for May, and is a symbol for rebirth good fortune and youth. The availability of high quality emeralds is limited consequently treatment to improve clarity are performed regularly.

My hands tremble with the thought of holding a multifaceted emerald if only for a moment and in my mind I smell the caves where the obscure mineral is mined.

Back, back in time to the emerald city I journey to look behind the curtains where the Wizards turns the dials on the smoke and mirrors. Straining to remember I squint to improve clarity in a Hunter Green World.

First though before I post about the emerald mining I must for my Doctors post my weekly psychological report, they worry so if I get too silent:

Sub Atomic particles are not benevolent to humans anymore

this is the six hundredth post, light a candle for all to see

fiction
edward w pritchard

Sub Atomic particles are not benevolent to humans anymore. Who would have thought it could happen. Natural Laws which seemed dependable and which we thought we could always ignore as we scurried forth about our earthbound activities began to change last lunar month.

A lunar day takes a month you know. I noticed  a few weeks ago, earth weeks; weeks and minutes are a convention on earth you know; I noticed a few earth weeks ago that the moon was rotating twice as fast as before. After that I began to notice that at a sub atomic level many elements were acting strangely, strangely at the miniature invisible subatomic level. First I told Dr. Reynolds of course, but I am not sure he was listening closely by then. The last fifteen minutes of our session he is always frantic to get his notes and charts done. He told me once otherwise he has to do paperwork at home. 

Since that first day I noticed the moon spinning faster I have been noting the changes in the invisible electronic sub atomic charges of several elements, such as Molybdenum and Boron.  I try not to worry about this but I feel I should let someone know. It seems important. The moon spinning twice as fast might affect the tides which might affect our moods. I am not sure what are the implications.
end

Also I always post something to show I am doing just fine:

Basic Chemistry lesson-Salt, NaCl -seeing an old friend

fiction
edward w pritchard

Seeing an old friend it's hard to get a read, with Chlorine wearing the very dark sunglasses, like a poker player. She also wears a cowboy hat. Physiognomy unreadable. Chlorine, Cl, now a deadly gas.

Sodium now explosive if mixed with water and in general toxic to humans, if they get close; sodium, Na, now solitary resists bonding.

No longer salt, Na goes west, Cl drifts east, both toxic, no longer palatable. Ionization dissolved, Chloride changes name back to Chlorine.

end

excuse the patient for being personal here but this is a psychological report: for my jailers

Gone but not forgotten, sadly silent

fiction
edward w pritchard

Your memories shadow, vaporously appears to me at night,
as essence of past removals.

You refusing to stay gone, I reach out in sleep from behind my eyes, with the will to touch that preceded arms and hands.

When momentary, dreaming,  I capture your lost essence, its gone but not forgotten, sadly silent,
solidly material, far removed from my hands and arms.

She's not there

fiction
edward w pritchard

She's not there
it happened but it's not real any more
the observer is removed from the landscape
and a guard has been added to keep us away
it exists but not to you
look away, time has moved forward
tarry not, remember not
she's not there

move on, time is gone


time my sentinel

fiction
edward w pritchard

Time my sentinel dissolve
and I'll  walk back over your broken fractured bones
to before
before when this wasn't here
and before which would then never change
without time walking his post
back and forth towards now's future

431/ part 2

431/ part 2

fiction
Edward w Pritchard


It's hard to tell the night from the day from the perpetual darkness near Pluto. My jailers take every precaution to extend my life so I may complete my 431 year sentence. Mechanical birds sing near dawn simulating circadian response rousing me from sleep to keep myself the prisoner in appropriate health. With the pills and shocks and prison routine the decades roll past.

If a prisoner does oneself in perpetual obscurity is initiated removing all record of ones existence.

Friendless and alone prisoners are encouraged produce gainful activity. After long periods of forced sleep and sunlessness malfunctions in the psyche garbles continuities between events and occurrences disrupting one's ability to concentrate or plan.

The mechanical psychologist jailers observe myself from time to time from afar and initiate compensating post hypnotic suggestions and tweaks to keep myself the prisoner balanced to fulfil the remainder of the jail time.

Often I wake with the urge to check for letters or notes or myself initiate response from and to people gone from Earth centuries now past; the urgency of my longings to connect suggests that the mechanical jailer psychologists may have planted compensating thoughts in my subconscious as I entered the deep monthly sleep cycle here in my cell.

Later awake I remember communication is now psychically initiated anyway; it's been a long time since I was removed from the population.

Although every precaution has been followed to insure absolute silence in my surroundings sometimes at 3:14am I strain to hear sounds back on Earth. A baby's cry cannot be heard from Earth to Pluto where I complete my time and a baby cannot stay a baby for several hundred years. I either imagine the sound of the baby or my jailers have simulated the noise using standard protocol to rebalance myself the prisoner so I may continue and complete my 431 year sentence from my temporary Home near Pluto now classified as a Moon not a Planet.

Sometimes I try to still myself the prisoner's Mind. There is nothing to think about and nothing to remember.

Afterward if I develop urge for activity I suspect my jailers are using compensating suggestions to balance my psyche to insure myself proper health to extend my life so I may complete my 431 sentence in the proper and customary manner.

431

431
fiction
Edward w Pritchard


My sentence was read to me by the mechanical Judge. A court appointed robot lawyer sat at my side without comment as my sentence was read by the Judge for the record.

431 years on an artificial Moon of Pluto to me for voting fraud back on Earth. The good news my life will be extended over four times using medicine and lots of suspended animation and deep sleeping periods; the bad news my life will be extended over four times using medicine and lots of suspended animation and deep sleeping periods.

I never liked to read much or improve myself and music, art and philosophy are of little interest to me. There's not much to remember of my past life on Earth anymore. 431 years is a long time I guess to pass through.

One thing I can't get out of my head when I am awake here near Pluto; voting seems no longer important to me. One ambitious person persuading others to sponsor their quest for financial independence. Politics is such a racket, I am sorry I learned it.

Pluto is no longer officially classified as a Planet. It's just another heavenly body racing through Space, like the Earth and the Sun, and the artificial Moon where I will spend the next 431 years of my long life.

Kent state shootings 45 years later

Kent State Shootings 45 years later

fiction
Edward w Pritchard


Kent State campus seemed quiet today. A few students selling used textbooks to entrepreneurs in the five guys restaurant parking lot and groups of young folks catching some Sun. The old rebelliousness was not in the air today up in Kent where I sat in my car and observed from afar the sloping Hill where the shootings of four young students occurred on May 04, 1970.

One of the students shot down in 1970 would be just about retiring from a school system in New York state this summer if 45 years ago she had wised up and realized that when soldiers carry guns people die. That's a harsh thing to say but news of Allison Krause's death on May 04, 1970 upset me sadly; sitting in journalism class in high school at 2pm I heard a girl at Kent State had been shot three times in the back by the Ohio National guard. Every year on May 04, 1970 a shiver runs down my spine when I think of four students, some in army jackets like I used to wear when I went to Kent in the summer of 1970, were shot by high power military rifles.

Where would Allison Krause, William Schroeder, Jeffrey Miller and Sandra Sheuer be today if they hadn't been on campus at Kent State at the wrong place and time on May 04, 1970? Why do such things have to happen?

A few years forward in the future after noon soldiers like the Ohio National guard will be an anachronism as overhead drones handle future riot duty. No more will part time soldiers treat all students as the enemy as they did at Kent State in 1970.

When soldiers carry guns people die. I remember when I learned that back in the early summer of 1970.

Here's what I wrote about the Kent State shootings before:

Friday, February 12, 2010

Statistical Prediction of the Future by Artificial Intelligence

Statistical Prediction of the Future by Artificial Intelligence

Commentary on the Kent State Shootings of 1970
draft 1

fiction
edward w pritchard

Things had ended like a lush pear hitting the side of a brick building. The impact annihilated the pear but the changes to the building were subtle and took time to work out.

Gabby

Gabby's weaknesses were gambling, blue's music, and sassy women and at Friday afternoon at 4:00PM she was anxious to hit the bars in downtown Kent and indulge her trio of afflictions to excess.

But Gabby's cravings had vanished like a fat man throwing a pack of cupcakes out of a speeding car window to keep from eating them. Craybo had answered back with a cryptic list of casual relationships and the results were displayed on the monitor in front of her. Gabby spent 57 hours per week programming and talking to the expensive super computer as a business analyst at Kent State University in Ohio; and she thought she knew the machine well. Craybo had surprised her and she felt like she had discovered a secret about a childhood friend. Gabby was surprised and intrigued by the information Craybo had flashed on the monitor in front of her. She was about to hop on the exercise bike she rode in her office and just before she started she typed:

" Why is it so windy in Kent, Ohio tonight May 03, 2010?

Craybo responded instantly:

Chief Big Foot-Wounded Knee December, 1890
Kent State Shootings- May, 04 1970
Jackson State University- May 14, 1970

Most Likely connection- Gaia Theory- theory proposed by James Lovelock, which views earth as one single organism. Physical components of planet are intimately related. Probability of relationship of increase in wind speed being casual 96%.

Gabby hoped off the bike and typed back to Craybo, reiterate:

Craybo displayed a haunting picture of the dead Indian chief Bigfoot in the snow at Wounded Knee.
Below the picture on the monitor read a caption:

Soldiers stacked the dead Indian bodies in the snow like firewood. Chief Bigfoot had been dragged by dog carry to [ some sources indicate horses] to the field hospital because he was very sick with pneumonia. Big foot was carried out of the field hospital bed by soldiers and was among the first Indians struck by the seventh cavalries rifle shots. Woman and children were hunted down in the snow up to 2 hours later. More metals of honor were given to soldiers at wounded knee than any other American battle.

An hour later Gabby decided, over riding her better judgment to call Beverly.

Beverly

Beverly was happy. She had a new car to drive to her dinner date at a Chinese Restaurant in Beechwood, Ohio and the new car had a spectacular stereo system. She was listening to List's Hungarian Rhapsody #2 as she drove through the light expressway traffic North toward Beechwood.

Beverly was startled by her old cellphone sitting on the passenger seat, It was the voice of dead actor Cary Grant. Beverly didn't know the phone could signal by voice. The voice of Cary Grant repeated twice in succession:
"emergency dial 27"
"emergency dial 27"

Beverly first thought was it was the cell phone company trying to sell her something. However curious she dialed "27"

It was a short phone message.
" Choate I need you."
"See me at KSU business school trading floor"
Gabby

The message was left at 4:47, 7 minutes ago.

Beverly pulled off the expressway North and parked on the berm. The last time she felt a jolt of emotion like this was when her twin 10 year old brother had pulled the starter cord on the lawn mower while she had the fingers of the left hand on the spark plug and the right hand gripped the spark plug wire.

Gabby needed her. What could inspire Gabby to break the silence between them after Gabby had dumped her two complete years earlier.

Beverly didn't know if she could go into the school of business again but she frantically searched for an exit to turn around the new car and head southeast toward Kent, Ohio.

End part 1

Beverly parked he new car close to the door of the department of business the Kent State University. The University was eerily deserted for a school day. It must be the unusual howling wind. Strange for a May wind, it felt like late fall. Beverly still had the electronic key card Gabby had given her in her purse and it still worked. That was good because no one seemed to be around, not even the foreign students who seldom goofed off on weekends.

As she entered the third floor exit by the stairs, Beverly was reassured and calmed to see the same janitor from when she had spent hours and hours here two to three years ago. The janitor still weighed over three hundred pounds and moved very slow. He was an intent young black man with blotchy light skin and reddish hair. He always seemed to be working very hard to keep the building clean for the students. He seemed to remember Beverly, and greeted her in the customary way, tipping his cap he always wore, smiling a little and although he was a few years younger than her calling her ma-dame.

The trading floor at the KSU school of business had been one of the finest simulation trading pits in the world when built five years ago. A wealthy alumni had donated over five million dollars to build the expensive theater, state of the art monitors, and electronic stock and bond ticker tapes. Current quotes on stocks and bonds were displayed in real time twenty four hours a day. Gabby's and Craybo's job was to keep the room on line and to monitor relationships between the millions of events that occurred in the world, daily; past and present and the effect they had on stock and bond prices. The students would then agonize over deciphering the mysterious arcane connections.

The trading room was dark when Beverly walked in but each of the various sized twenty monitors displayed the same picture. Beverly carefully walked down the sloping steps of the intimate auditorium, slid between the seats and slid in next to Gabby. The theater style seats were plushly padded, but perhaps to keep the students awake in lecture, the arm rest were a heavy iron, intensely uncomfortable and high like European airport seats. The two former friends were very close together in the seats but because of the art deco iron armrests were not touching. No greeting occurred.

Gabby was staring at the picture on the monitor. Beverly recognized the picture from her expensive Ivy league education. It was Big Foot the sad old Indian, symbolizing the death of the frontier in America; and his soul looked in anguish as it struggled to escape the confines of his frozen body. The picture was difficult to look at intensified by being on all twenty screens around the room.

Beverly let out a single sigh after she read " soldiers stacked the dead Indian bodies in the snow like firewood. Beverly remembered a history professor saying that maybe the soldiers removed the Indian blanket from Big Foot's body to avoid any association with the protection provided by the ghost dance and invisibility shirts and blankets that some Indians, but not Big foot and his followers, thought would protect them from soldiers bullets.

As Beverly sighed, Gabby awoke from her revelry and without greeting, pushed a few keys on the laptop she had been clutching tightly to her chest. The picture of Bigfoot stayed on the first screen but all the rest filled with the famous picture of Mary Vecchio standing over a dead Jeff Miller at Kent State student protests May 04, 1970. Immediately however, that picture morphed into a picture that appeared to be also at Kent State May 1970 that Beverly didn't recognize. It was a body covered by a morgue blanket laying on the ground.

The caption read:

"William Schroeder was a ROTC student and had been shot dead center in the chest as he walked between classes at Kent State May 04, 1970." A second quote obviously a cut and pasted caption said " the Ohio guard had been certain when quizzed that the shots were fired accidentally and as evidence often mentioned the fact that William Schroeder had only been hit once in the chest." Schroeder was not believed to be involved in the altercation with the Ohio guard.

After a moment, Gabby again worked with the laptop and Bigfoot picture stayed on the first monitor, William Schroeder's picture stayed on the second and the rest of the monitors showed another body covered by a police morgue blanket at night.

The Caption said:

Two students were killed today at Jackson State University in Mississippi. The second dead student was a high school student walking home from his part time job at a grocery store and was struck by shot gun fire to his chest. The boy, James Earl Green was on the high school track team. The boy was not believed to be involved in the campus rioting.

Keeping the three pictures of dead Americans in the first three screens, Gabby made another key stroke and the remainder of the monitors were filled with the same X Y Cartesian bar graph.

ADD X Y CHART HERE
THREE SLOPING LINES RISING and STEEPENING LEFT TO RIGHT
1890 TO 2020
WOUNDED KNEE, KENT STATE, JACKSON STATE
INCREASE IN AVERAGE YEAR ON YEAR December 29 TO MAY 31 WIND SPEED



The caption read:

Average wind speed: 1. December 29, 1890 , to May 03, 2010 Wounded Knee and Pine Ridge reservation 2. Kent State University Main Campus may 04, 1970 to May 03, 2010 and Ravenna Arsenal same period 3. Campus Jackson State University Lynch Street and Jim Hill High School, same period

Conclusion
Wind speed at all locations increasing year on year. Likely hood of randomness less than 5%. Most likely cause, 1. Human intervention, highly unlikely. 2. Most likely occurrence involves Gaia theory. Mechanism unknown based on current data. Metaphysical explanation also possible, not probable.

Gabby pushed one more key on the laptop and the electronic stock ticker running around the room like a crown molding displayed the same phrase over and over. It said: When soldiers carry guns humans die. It ran right to left slowly and then occasionally reversed and ran the opposite way. Beverly looked at Gabby and Gabby spoke for the first time. Can you check my statistics Romy.

Romy was a nick name Gabby had called Beverly before when she wanted her to get out of a warm bed at 3 AM to get her some taco bell food, or some cherry flavored miniature cigars. Beverly's second nickname was Choate. Beverly had been at the Cleveland Museum, early one Sunday morning to meet her twin brother who was having marital problems and wanted advice. He stood her up. He was to meet her at 9:30 AM and didn't call to cancel until 10:00AM. While walking around to kill time Beverly had noticed Gabby intently studying the Mondrian painting temporarily on loan, Broadway Boogie Woggie. Gabby had said two things as Beverly paused near where Gabby sat. " What does it mean Choate?" and a minute later " Choate, I don't do well any more with beautiful women." Choate is an expensive prep school in Connecticut and Gabby later said Beverly looked like a Choate.

Gabby dozed while Beverly rechecked her statistical correlations on her Texas Instruments BA ll plus. Each correlation on the yellow paper Gabby had handed checked out. Beverly fell asleep in the warm room also.

Beverly awoke to the sound of gaited horse beats. Gabby was walking back in forth near the lecture podium alternately slapping a football and spinning it high in the air, nearly touching the sloping ceiling.

When Gabby saw Beverly was awake she said:

" Can you play the piano for me at Hanks, Romy".
End part 2

Part 3

Several small bars in Kent that night just closed early, not because of the wind; Beverly E-xx was going to play piano at Hank's.

Hank Grenson locked the first floor door, after Gabby and Beverly entered, put two ton Marston there as bouncer and instructed the wait staff that no food or drink could be ordered or carried out while Beverly played.

Beverly played for twenty minutes, one continuous improvisation on List's Hungarian Rhapsody #2 and Jimmy Hendricks purple haze. At times she played a little of Ohio by Crosby Stills and Nash. After about 15 minutes Gabby walked to the front of the smoky room, put her right hand on Beverly's shoulder, brushed Beverly's hair lightly with her left had and said softly as Beverly continued to play, talking like Cary Grant, "Goodbye Choate"

Gabby had walked out of Beverly's life again.

Monday at Beverly's office there was a single hand written chart on a fax. It was the same chart of the casual relationship in wind speed in December to May at wounded Knee, Kent State and Jackson State. But Bloomfield Michigan was a fourth variable

On the bottom,
Gabby had typed;
Craybo, predict likely next location of increase in wind speed, ie fourth casual variable, by location

Craybo: foreign or domestic

Gabby: continental USA

Craybo: Likely hood next location, increased wind speed attributable to Gaia theory Bloomfield Michigan reliability 87%

Probability caption 85%
likely next caption- 4 to 8 local Muslim business leaders shot fatally by overhead unmanned drones while peacefully protesting increasing property taxes, no charges were filed
probable date- spring 2019- 50%
probable date May 2020- 75%
probable date April 1st 2019 to may 31,2020 - 85%


Gabby: Craybo is there a way to warn humans of this probable occurrence
Craybo: negative based on historical record

Gabby: Craybo does this have to happen?
Craybo: probable, not certain

Gabby:Why
Craybo:When soldiers carry guns humans die.-- strike
Revise: When soldiers or drones carry weapons humans die

is an implicit contract made in a dream enforceable

is an implicit contract made in a dream enforceable

fiction
Edward w Pritchard


A rental unit can't suffice for long when someone is going places; Chuck Berry said it better, " apartment can't hardly hold her".

"Two drifters off to see the World" [1]; Away they go, " here, there and everywhere" [2].

Beginnings are like a dream, reality disappears for a while as two drifters touch in a bubble outside of time. Is an implicit contract made in a dream enforceable?

Outside of the bubble is absolute stillness with no connection between events. Time marches on but half a drifter stays in the past.

Events accrue each year however. Happy birthday sweet little sixteen, make music, journey on.

It was a comfortable commotion.

[1] "Moon River" by Henri Mancini with lyrics by Johnny Mercer.

]2[ Beatles "Here, there and everywhere".

Kentucky Derby Day 2015

Kentucky Derby Day 2015

Fiction
Edward w Pritchard


Mathematics is a very important subject to be taught in the Public schools to all students to prepare them for productivity in life.

Tonight we are handicapping the field of the Kentucky derby for some bets for tomorrow. Using simple math, a program from Churchill Downs, and a roomful of  strong opinions from the guys we eliminate from a 20 horse field the 1, 4, 7, 9, 13, 14, 17 and 21. This is going to be easy, chose the first four finishers from the remaining field of twelve in consecutive order then life will be just fine for me.

Tonight using our math skills we plan how to spend our winnings tomorrow. How will we do on the math test tomorrow at the running of the Kentucky Derby?

Here's what I wrote a few years ago about a previous Kentucky Derby. Not sure what this story means but since that race is over it doesn't matter. Meantime enjoy tomorrow's race from the great State of Kentucky. Meanwhile life goes on without a field of winners in sight.

Saturday, May 7, 2011

Kentucky derby day 2011

Kentucky derby day 2011

fiction of
edward w pritchard

Official/
To Press Corps

A brief delay will occur in the race this year. The Kentucky derby attracts more up scale viewers and followers than any other event in it's class.

Advertising have long acknowledged the importance of targeted product placement during Kentucky derby week. Interested sponsors are urged to contact Jill Bevenson of the Kentucky department of product placement and taxation.

Moderate weather, good home cooked food and beautiful scenery greet the visitor to Kentucky: either for business, pleasure or that dream retirement. Interested parties should contact one of Kentucky's many economic and tourism departments.

Race fans, horse prices have bottomed following the upheaval in the American economy and are trending upward. It's an excellent time to invest in America's premier breeding stock or just a pet for a beloved offspring. Many of the strongest contenders in this years race brood here in the rolling greens of Kentucky.

Gamblers windows will remain open up till race time. Off track betting available, but nothing beats live racing. We welcome our new friends from Dubai. Kentucky supports Wall Street's -Gamble Responsibly- our future depends on it.

This years race will be delayed one week. Fear not all pavilions will remain open and barbecue is calling. Coors beer is free on the infield.
end

see also May 1st 2010, same author, same blog
Kentucky Derby Day- a sad look at romance

Don't take the game of life too seriously, you could be like the guy in the story below:

Kentucky derby day

fiction
edward w pritchard

Bob and Betty had met for the first time at a party for the Kentucky Derby. There were both in their forties and divorced and both were in their own ways suspicious and cautious concerning romance.

Bob was big, broad shouldered and not overly tall, and also quiet and his friends had brought him to the party to get him out into the world. Betty was an expert on horses and had came to the party because she enjoyed anything concerning horses.

A local chiropractor had arranged the party and had wanted to share his wealth and success with the community. Dr. Mullins, the chiropractor introduced Bob and Betty and Betty helped Bob pick horses and Bob's friend Tul who was a little drunk had sat Betty on Bob's lap as a joke. At the end of the party Bob had kissed Betty as he walked her to her car.

Thirty three years later Betty and Bob were driving to the race track on Kentucky derby day. Betty wanted to celebrate their meeting anniversary. Both had on their best clothes. Betty had made reservations at the race track up near Cleveland and they had good seats up in the private dining area and she had paid twenty five dollars extra so they could sit at the windows.

Betty had baked cod and Bob had alfredo noodles. Betty picked the horses. Betty won a prize for having four of the top six finishers in the simulcast Kentucky derby line-up.

When Betty got up to get her prize, Nancy who was a nurse, and with her husband Carl, a car dealer, whispered to Carl that she thought that old man, sitting at the prize winner's table, had Alzheimer's disease.

Bob wasn't sure who the woman he was with going down the stairs at the race track was but, he wasn't going to let her carry the heavy box [ containing her prize]. After he put the box in her car he even got in when she asked him to.

Betty drove Bob home, happy she had won a TV as a door prize.

 

hope and glory; change the world, change yourself

hope and glory; change the world, change yourself

fiction
Edward w Pritchard


That voice in head that drives some people towards riches has always forced me towards changing the World, becoming renown and sitting with the Great heads of State admired by all.

What drives someone to write 2,000 ditties that are read by so few?

It's to reach the first 100,000 views on the worldwide internet of course. Then the voice in the head will be contented with oneself and one can sit at the Lake with a fishing pole in the water and repose with the full understanding that one has arrived. Hope and glory achieved. Changed the world and changed oneself.

Here's what this I wrote before about why we write.

Thursday, November 24, 2011

Ten Writers per square Mile

Ten Writer's per square Mile

fiction
edward w pritchard

I stumbled on both knees into the limping writers workshop.
My aspirations flooded flatulent and my humor hardly stillborn.
Give me wa, wa, water to da, da, drench my cupidity of curiosity
and ma, ma, mana for my tepid soulless soltasity;
which affected and effected me in myriad pa, pa, pouting pom, pom-pousities.