rfhusnik

[rfhusnik]

For the Days of Mothers and Fathers Part Two

  

            Written By:  Steven Fillmore       

            Father, is it Lucifer’s temporal curse, or an eternal blessing offered by God which places you and I in possession of minds so penetratingly perceptive? Please, for the benefit of those who’ve been perhaps somewhat wayward, write your answer to that question quickly. Answer quickly before the assistance of your words slips away to where an imagined darkness casts a vagueness upon what the artful searcher seeks, yet assumes he’ll most likely never find.

            But while artistic searches were expected to be difficult, wasn’t it surprising to experience such stress while we attempted to accomplish simple daily routines? I think so, and thus just now I’ll extend my sincere gratitude to those who fulfill necessary societal roles. Yet, I feel an obligation to ensure that the fears we’ve found prevalent within what might be termed “everyday living” aren’t forgotten or left undocumented.

            And to me, the most serious of such concerns is that often, in momentary lapses of mental discipline, I’ve found myself among killers who killed for reasons so diabolical, selfish and vengeful. And, in tormented days I’ve relived their murders again! And I’ve seen them extracting their deadly toll on battlefields, in gas chambers, in school settings, at various types of parades, rallies, and other outdoor venues, and within the homes of loved ones and others they may or may not have known. But yes, I fear it must also be said that at least one in my memory was actually reconfiguring corpses he’d recently removed from gravesites. And that man was taking those dead bodies back to his old farmhouse where his mother, father and brother had passed away, and where he now lived alone amidst unspeakable horrors. Yet, of course some famous films have been made based upon his exploits.

            But dad, you said that “philosophical crutches” could be used to combat the demons about whom I’ve just spoken. Still, I recall you also had reservations concerning my fascination with the fact that all mortals seemed to be but riders on figurative highways. And I know you remember how, in my symbolic way, it seemed I always wished to exit my car if it should need to stop for any reason. And, sometimes I think you thought I wished I could simply jump from that car. But had I jumped from my personal car, perhaps others might then have jumped from theirs also. Fortunately that never occurred, although in my case the roadway seemed treacherous. And today I’m truly sorry for all the mistakes I made, were they completely, or only partially of my fault. But although I’m truly sorry, I wonder about those others – those others whose indiscretions were far more serious than mine – far more serious, yet today they’re considered a part of “society’s good guys,” while some such as myself live on the outside looking in.

            And I think it can be said that during the years I spent living with you and mother, my ultimate goal was simply to exist as peacefully as possible on each and every day. And thus I came to believe that my experience of youth wasn’t shared by many other youngsters and young adults. However, my perspective concerning that lifestyle changed over the years, and today I’m supposing that my suppositions concerning life’s reality aren’t really that different from those held by other mortals whose earthly beliefs seem to differ from my own. And isn’t it true that every realization ever realized can’t be overlooked? After all, aren’t deductions often shared and then learned from? Yes, I believe we’ve learned a lot during our earthly days. Yet, longings are always present, and often they lead us toward things, situations, and other humans who for us might prove detrimental.

            And I hope I’ve communicated the dilemmas of the previous paragraph in such a manner as has proved them understandable. Oh, they’re so elusive! And, they’re so tempestuous! And, in many ways I think they’re “tied in” to some other quite important matters of current moral speculation. Does it really matter which sex has had its societal role changed the most over the years? Maybe what really matters is that we simply know that there are but two sexes. Yet, I remember that once when asked if human beings are really animals you replied “Well, they’re not plants”!

            And I don’t know how much you and mother, as well as all mortals for that matter ever learned about life’s so-called “lessons.” And isn’t “life’s lessons” such a trite phrase? God, it conveys all we as humans must do to navigate our minds, bodies, and souls through ever turbulent timespans. But are we unseen travelers? And are we more likely to find what needs to be found when we act as a group or as an individual? And in a discussion concerning the roles of parents, does the previous sentence simply refer to whether we teach children in schools or at home?

            Well, the questions of the past paragraph should instigate debate. But what most would agree upon, I think, is that parents should decide upon a teaching process for their children very early on in the lives of those children. And I’d imagine parents should act more as coaches and less as cheerleaders during those early years of their children’s lives. And I can personally remember all the questions I was seeking at least input about, if not answers to at the time of my youth.

But of course sometimes children won’t listen to parents during those younger years. Sometimes they have those proverbial “minds of their own.” Yet, time of course continues on no matter if we prepare, or do not prepare for its passage. And then one day children become adults. And then most (but not all) of them realize what those older than they have done either rightfully or wrongfully to and for them while they were children.

            Well, I guess I’ve stated much conjecture here. Yet, as is the case daily, I’ll once again need to simply carry on today. But today I’ll live on in the enlightenment shown me by you and mother. And I think it can be said that I’ve often disagreed with supposed “worthy and rightful” trends. And I’ve often sought non-conformity as the correct answer to certain dilemmas which have surfaced along my personal, as well as others’ collective paths of life. Nonetheless, today I’m afraid that a newly elected Father, that is, someone who’s recently been chosen to oversee a substantial segment of the Christian religion, is going to tell mankind that it’s good that certain people leave the lands of their birth and then seek sanctuary and enough food to eat in the homelands of others. I hope the new Father will remember that the lives of those who are the rightful citizens of sovereign nations are often placed in peril by those who illegally enter, and then often try to remain inside nations in which they really don’t belong.         

[rfhusnik]

For The Days of Mothers and Fathers Part One

            Written By:  Steven Fillmore       

            Mother, I’d wager that before any of us complain too much about the parents God provided us, as well as some of the scenarios we were involved in along with them years ago, we might do well to be thankful that at least we had a mother and father who tried as the old cliché states “to teach us right from wrong,” although many of us perhaps didn’t see it that way at that time. And of course we didn’t know then that many of humankind’s children grow to adulthood with unfit parents, or live with people who aren’t their real parents, or perhaps know neither of them.

            But thankfully very few of us who had difficulty living under either rightful or wrongful parental guidance or control saw fit to shotgun murder those who’d given us life, yet of course some people told us that even such acts should be forgiven by human courts after a number of years had passed. Still, I personally had a problem with such a deduction, thus I asked a friend whose opinion I value somewhat (less now!) what his “take” on the subject of the murder of parents was, and he replied regrettably I thought “Don’t be fooled by those who keep their noses so far up in the air that they can barely see past them. Remember that hopefully, like us, they’re also only using paper to clean their butts after having relieved themselves. And, if you think that premise is rather stupid or unconnected to your particular question, remember that nowadays many people are paying large amounts of money to watch grown men push the arse of one of their teammates in the hope that thereby he’ll be able to maneuver the ball he’s carrying beyond a certain point.”

            Well, as you may surmise, I took little comfort, and no real assumed gain of knowledge from that retort, but it did lead me to once again ponder how we as humans are, like all other living and inanimate beings and things, subservient to Master Time. And time only grows older in the sense that one more year is added to its numerical total after each twelve months; other than that it’s as young today as when it ever and however began, yet it is undeniably one of the most important unseen factors in the lives of all mortals, surpassed only perhaps by one’s religious beliefs.

            And as time passes, a point is reached of course at which parents begin to play a diminished role in the lives of their offspring. And hopefully at that point the parents can look back with pride upon what their children became – but that doesn’t always happen. And in my personal case, I should admit that I was perhaps somewhat arrogant in those younger years. But as is the case in all mortal lives, I grew older. And then, on one particular day of reflection, I realized that although I’d never succumbed to a life of crime or addiction, I was finding myself drawn toward what surely is the strangest sort of “magnet” at work anywhere today. I was being drawn toward “the city” which existed only a short distance from my current home. And, in time, I became a resident of that city. And if there is one thing I know for certain now, it’s that I’ll remain a resident of “the city” until my dying day!

            And thus, perhaps you can now see that my resolve is strong. And, my beliefs are solidified. So, I’ll now tell you that with what of course are a few obvious exceptions, today I’m very skeptical of anyone who tries to tell me that “Yes, I unequivocally know the how, why, and when that certain events happened; and, I also know why certain words, whether capable of being positively, negatively or ambivalently construed were ever spoken or written.”

            And I’ve also been told that only fools enter life’s highways with no goals in mind. Only mishaps befall such travelers. And, with the concepts I’ve just enunciated in mind, today, on one of these days that exist between the days on which we honor our parents individually, I find I must admit that I, hardly a St. Stephen (or rather St. Steven) am journeying out to accomplish my regular daily routines which exist (for me) within the familiar boundaries of what I consider to be my unsurprising existence.

            But I’m free today. That is, I’m as free today as the limitations which both rightly and wrongly allow me to be. Yet, today I don’t need to stand in awe of great achievers, no matter whatever field of achievement they may be excelling within. I know that down the road, someday, both they and their accomplishments will fade from societal importance; yet of course the memories of some of their deeds may, in future days find inclusion within great, and not so great books; but then again, such books aren’t very popular nowadays, they don’t tell us how the single twenty-something waitress landed the also twenty-something, or in some cases thirty-something billionaire.

And while, as I said, I need not grant great respect to great achievers, I also need not extend my sorrowful apologies to those who’ve been unfortunate in life’s money chase, or to those who possess a mindset which tells them that for some reason or reasons the world as a whole, or at least the nations which border their own owe them an at least tolerable existence. No one will fool me with that sort of phony altruism. Instead, I’ll continue to state what for me are simple truths. And, I’ll carry on now. And, my words are heartfelt. Yet, although they speak of the scenario in which parents nurture their offspring, so do they also acknowledge what all forms of communication ultimately must, i.e. time passes, and all earthly beings and situations fade away eventually.

            So, here’s to those who continue human generations. But such continuance has generated many questions, several of which have surfaced in the last one hundred or so years. Should people marry? Should people of the same sex marry? Are there really more than two sexes? Should each child ideally have two parents, one male and one female? Is it a negative influence upon a child should he or she be raised by one parent only, or by grandparents, or indeed by people not even related to him or her? And, what about the amount of humans living upon Planet Earth? Is it too great? It’s already been fifty some years since a famous book warned the inhabitants of the earthly planet about the repercussions of supposed over-population. And of course today many methods, as well as plagues, starvation and simple every day occurrences keep populations in check somewhat.

            But just now I feel like a man just now awakened from a sleep associated with all the problems known to concern human life upon Planet Earth. Oh, allow me a certain “distantness” now! Allow me to both ask, and simultaneously attempt to discover answers to the most basic, but yet no doubt most pertinent human questions. But you may wonder if indeed my last petition to you and father might concern matters otherworldly as well as only earthly. I’ll address that in father’s Part Two of this discussion.

[rfhusnik]

The Extraordinary Pretender Part Two

            Written By:  Anonymous        

            I don’t know why I was asked to meet with our city’s mayor here at his home this morning. Maybe some people wanted me to express some thoughts in this forum in a way in which they’re usually not communicated here! I don’t know. Anyway, Mayor Jennifer is taping my words now, so I’ll begin. But the things I’m going to talk about here will all be unorganized. That’s the way I think, I guess. I’m just going to tell you some random thoughts that I think might interest, or even help you. And when I’m done talking, maybe you’ll feel I’ve left some things unsaid. Well, we all could, and maybe should say more about certain topics. But I’ll say today what’s on my mind today, and I’ll leave tomorrow’s ponderings to be pondered by myself then.

And when the overlords of our city asked me to verbalize this piece, they informed me that I was to give my best impersonation of Mayor Jennifer near its beginning and at its end. And, when I asked them what I was to say as an impersonation they said “Near the piece’s beginning, make a powerful statement on the mayor’s behalf, and at its ending, through your own words, pose a question to the mayor, and again in your own words, answer that question on his behalf.”

So, alright, here goes Mayor Jennifer’s supposed powerful opening statement:  “I know that a lot of people don’t have much respect for pretenders, but maybe in their defense we could say that usually such people aren’t known to be advocates of young men who kill their parents and then expect society to pity them. And pretenders aren’t often known to be murderers, or cheating spouses who fell out of love with their partners, and into love with killers and life insurance payouts. And – by God I’ll promise you this, as long as George Jennifer serves as mayor of this city, there’ll be no compassion here for those who in any way illegally denigrate the lives and lifestyles of honest Americans.”

There, that was my forceful beginning on behalf of the mayor. But now it’s time to move on here. And that concept – moving on – isn’t it actually a shocking one? And sometimes I just can’t fathom how time keeps moving on! It keeps on. And when I think about many of the significant events that have occurred over the centuries, it sometimes seems then that I can somehow project myself across certain time spans and actually become a part of those happenings. Gee, if only I’d been there, I could have done so much to…

            But a few nights ago I saw one of the most brutal movies I’ve ever seen. It showed a murderess dismembering the corpse of a victim she’d just “offed.” And that film then bothered me when it was time for me to go to bed. And I’m sleeping alone now, so I took one of those anxiety pills before I retired, and it helped me through my sleeping hours. I was afraid I might have some bad dreams, or something like them.

            Anyway, I got through the night alright, but the next day I was sort of… well, I don’t know, I wasn’t really crabby; I was kind of just weird, I guess. And then I said and did some things which drove some certain people “up the wall” so to speak. And while I’m sorry for that, I’m not sorry that all I’ve just told you happened, because all those things made me think that maybe it’s time I really do try harder to change the way I am, and the way I’ve been.

            But you know, I’ve always had what some people might call a fixation with the past. I’ve always been bothered by some of the bad things that have happened to me and because of me. Sure, I know people say I should forget past events – at least the bad ones; but I think they know as well as I do that it’s not so easy to do that.

            And the past has a way of showing up on my doorstep uninvited like some of my old boyfriends used to do. And then when I refused to let them come in, they got really angry. I guess they thought we could do some of the things we used to do right then, at that time. But I guess what I’m saying is that if I could say “NO” to those old suitors, I should also be able to say “NO” to past concerns, but it’s not that easy.

            And now, I want to tell you about another movie I saw recently. It was about an English writer named Virginia Woolf. Well, she wrote some famous books. “To The Lighthouse” is the only one of them that I’ve read. But I was kind of surprised and shocked to learn that she committed suicide at the age of fifty-nine. I guess sometimes “creative type” people end up not living very long. Some of them pass away from any number of things that normally don’t end the lives of so-called “normal, everyday people,” and that’s the main reason I’m going to ask the mayor for his answer (actually it will be my own) to the question that will end this piece.

            But have you ever noticed how certain things seem to happen to you at certain times in your life, and then when you think back upon them, you have to admit that yes (and I’m beginning to despise this phrase, I think it’s overused, but it surely is true) they happened for a reason? But I suppose we can all understand that just because some random events occurred, and they seemed to have some special significance to where our lives were “at” at those times, their happenings won’t matter much unless we learn, and then enforce the lessons they’re apparently trying to show us.

            And in that sense, maybe the leaders of our city wanted the mayor to tape my words today because they felt that my “down home” ways would inspire people to remain positive. I’m sure they’re getting tired of all the negativity around us. I know I am! And gee, it’s so easy to become a pessimist today! And it’s so easy to become a narcissist. No, don’t become either of those!

            But mayor Jennifer has told me he’s going to name what I’ve said here in a way that it seems to be connected with pretending. Well, everyone pretends sometimes I suppose. Still, I like to know what’s real, and what’s really going on. And in this particular city, reality and imagination both seem to be somehow “real,” if you can understand that!

            So I’m going to end here with the question I’ve promised to ask the mayor. And I’ll have him submit that question to you verbatim as I asked it, and as he supposedly answered it. My question is:  “Mayor, why are artistically gifted people always in search of things they’ll never find?”            

And his answer (actually crafted by me) was:  “Because that’s the very essence of art – to always be in search of new insights concerning life itself. But the majority of mortals strive only for what they consider necessary to facilitate themselves until their dying days. Yet, even such “down to Earth” people, as well as creative types are stymied during their lifetimes by still another group of mortals. And those are such people as wish all of life would forever remain as it’s always been. And, although some people might refer to them as being simply “set in their ways,” they’re far beyond that! Theirs is a dedicated effort to further non-change and nothingness.”       

[rfhusnik]

                       THE EXTRAORDINARY PRETENDER PART ONE

            Written By:  George Jennifer        

            Within these words I find solace during desolate days. Within this city I find sanctuary, creativity, retribution and symbolism distilled from wicked ways. But more important than the “finds” found in those first two sentences, are the insights from them which I’ve now claimed as my own; insights which were first discovered by others, and then shared by them, and are now incorporated into my personal lifestyle and points of view.   

            And I’ve read a poem whose first line consisted of six words which had been left unwritten, with a series of dots appearing on the page in their stead. And then that line of dots “blended into” the second line of the poem which was “Has been left unwritten.” But then it took a long time for me to realize that the unwritten first line of the poem must have been “The first line of this poem.”  

            And I’ve imagined that the crowned members of America’s elite writing establishment once sentenced me to live first in L.A., and then in Manhattan, and also required that I admit that in order to get from that West Coast city to that East Coast borough, I needed to fly over that literary elite’s so named “fly over country.” Oh, and yes, I was also required to acknowledge that many of the west and east coasts’ liberals are very wealthy.

            And recently I found myself driving an old Chevrolet down one of our city streets. I stopped at a red light, and when it turned green, I squealed out and laid a long black mark on the pavement. But just then I noticed an elderly man walking on the street there. I pulled over and rolled down my passenger side glass. The man came over by my car and said “Is that the proper conduct for a mayor to be displaying?”

            And I answered “I find that nowadays there are many moments during which I just can’t help myself. And at such times I feel as though I’m a prisoner to the imagination of writers. But maybe that cliché about things happening for a reason is at least partially true. Maybe all our lives were supposed to follow God’s directives for us. And maybe we’ll need extra help doing so when we face inevitable changes.”

            Well, my home is a somewhat large house on the north side of our city. And it’s the same home our former mayor Ralph Hawk lived in while he was still here with us, and served as our administrator and mentor. And from some of the uppermost rooms of my house I can look southward past the so-called “artistic enclave” which exists just north of the river, and can see the entire south side.

            And sometimes, as I gaze out of some of the windows of these upper rooms, I find myself thinking back. And gosh, sometimes when I think backward I’m overcome with a sense of the most bitter anguish. And it descends upon me as memories of all the conflicts I’ve known; not military conflicts, but disputes, failures, non-fulfillments, anger, lies, gossip, a tendency toward self-pity, non-conformance (with non-conformance and conformance as of course being determined by such people who have somehow assumed themselves to be better than all others, and of course many of whom consider themselves to be liberal politically), and many more undesirable traits and phenomena.

            But for me the lion’s share of all the negativity I’ve known ended on the day Ralph Hawk welcomed me to this city, and immediately predicted that I’d soon succeed him as its mayor. And while personal demons may not be as significant in my life any longer, national problems now distress me. What kind of nation are we living in wherein someone who shoots someone else in the back while that person is walking down the street is looked upon as a hero? And what kind of a nation has judicial magistrates who try to block the deportation of very dangerous non-citizens from its’ soil? Oh my God, all the left-wing indoctrination we’re subjected to in this land! And oh how it’s led Americans to stray from the most basic decency! 

            But this morning, as the month of March nears its end, I’m feeling very alone and alienated here in this north side home. And I’m beginning to understand why the month of April has always been anticipated with such fervor by writers in this forum. So, I suppose it can be said that once again my thoughts are only upon my reactions to outside influences; and, because that’s quite often the case, I’ve quite often been told that “me” is all I really think and care about.

            Yet, maybe the world would be somewhat better if people cared about themselves more. Maybe then they’d try to improve whatever situation they may find themselves in; and maybe then others wouldn’t have to think about, and take care of them so much and so often.

            But I don’t want to think about such matters too much today. I want to free myself here, in this city where freedom is beyond being only free. I want to experience the improbabilities of bizarreness! And I want to know some of the insights and possibilities offered to those who exist where the non-normal is the norm.

            Yes, and here are some words for the pretenders of April. But before I disclose them, I want to tell you that a girl visited me here this morning. And she wasn’t the type of girl one might expect to meet while walking down Main Street. And she expressed herself somewhat crudely – I thought. But she had some interesting things to say. And after I promised to relate her words verbatim (I had her tape them) in a second part of this disclosure, she said what was on her mind, thanked me for having listened to her, and told me that our city’s “overlords” had sent her to me. Then she laughed slightly and said “Goodbye George, I hope you and your readers didn’t expect that some sort of relationship was going to develop between us.” And then she left.

            And now, with hands outstretched above my head, I’m looking out a large glass pane. And outside I’m seeing that Earth’s eternal sun is aglow. And, to me, its protruding rays are offering new ways to live. And those rays are saying to me “Grant us your attentions. And don’t be continually striving to find more rules and complications. Consider the stations fate has decreed to be yours, and then seek out the commitments they demand of you.”

            And after I’d heard those figurative words, it seemed I heard some people talking in an adjacent room. And they were making some loud noises. They may have been having a party. I don’t know. And it almost seemed as though I heard the voice of the girl who’d just been with me. It sounded as if she was one of those talking and making noise in that other room.

            And God, I feel so frightened now! But I’m also so liberated – so loosely alone in a world of unknown sounds that come to me from what are, most likely, realities concurrent to my own. And God that’s shocking! What a dreadful, and yet enlightening perception it is to realize that other forms, from other places of existence, share this planet with us!

            And yes, I’ve come to learn of them. They’re on other tracks of realism which differ from our own. And while our lives are significant, so are theirs. And let me confirm, one same God guides their footsteps just as assuredly as it does ours!

            And, I suppose for those who don’t exist here, in this city, it’s difficult to imagine the magnanimous future we face here. Ours is the chance to truly know of the past, present, future, and even next life to come; but we still need to do all the mundane little tasks that are required if we wish to live on here from day to day.

            But as I said earlier, I’m all alone here today. I’m alone where all three time spans seem to be closing in upon me. Yet, I know that I’m still alive. And I know that the girl who visited me this morning is also still living. And I’ll share her words with you in Part Two of this disclosure. But I think now, more than ever, that there are others, out there – out there in different realities of Earth’s existence. And they want us to hear them. And they want us to know, that like us, they’re also looking forward to April beginning.

[rfhusnik]

Sometimes As Four Parts Divided

                      

            Written By:  Anonymous

                        PART ONE        

            I guess it’s another day to anger those who tell us to remove the past as our greatest focal point. So, now through backward mental propulsion, we’re where we can once again analyze all we’ve experienced either through real events, imagination, or learned knowledge. But those we considered yesterday’s heroes are mostly gone now, yet, to me, the most fortunate of them were those who found both advancement and refuge within the realm of artistic expression. And, it’s true, time has passed many of them by, as it will all of us; but the aid those artistically gifted mortals bequeathed to mankind in most cases found its significance within the manner in which it differed from what was considered “the norm” in all those differing eras. Oh, and today we can still learn from, and find solace within great artists' paintings, writings, musical compositions, and architectural achievements. 

                                                            PART TWO

Sometimes I find myself somewhat puzzled by the word sometimes. And those are such times as when I find that word used rather randomly, and not in reference to what are known to be, or to have been verifiably real “times.” And, maybe verifiable realness should render sometimes as being written “some times,” at least at some certain times. But, if you disagree with my opinions concerning sometimes, that won’t bother me.

            And, the freedom others possess for critical analysis of any word or any other known earthly phenomenon doesn’t bother me either, because I’ve learned that mortals often pay a price for disorganization. Thus, it would seem natural that they’d attempt to avoid confused thinking; or at least reverse what they’ve come to learn are obvious falsehoods accrued by them though perception or gossip. And, it would seem natural that if confused thinking concerning word choices and word meanings could be avoided, then at least a few insights into proper word usage and “hidden meanings” within word groupings might be discovered through simple analysis of all possible written formats.

            And the foremost of such insights would perhaps be the way in which what’s contained in certain prose and poetry works sometimes imitates the realities of certain human lives, especially if the writers of those pieces wish such imitation to occur. But through personal experience I can say I’ve learned that significant roadblocks are sometimes placed before certain American writers; and those are usually such writers as possess a conservative political leaning.

            And I’d venture to say that most writers are familiar with the so-called “first ten pages mandate.” In that method of literary criticism, agents, editors, and publishers reject any manuscripts which don’t appeal to them after they’ve read those submissions’ first ten pages. But I want to quickly and non-sensationally reference another form of literary rejection; that being that such writers who are known to be conservative, that is they’re right of center politically, are usually stymied somewhere along their way toward literary success.

            But then of course of what real value is literary success, or any success for that matter? Liberals tell us that successful people should feel remorseful about their achievements; after all, they’re hindering the “little guy” from possibly achieving that much coveted American dream. And, so what if certain agents, editors, etc. keep a special “slush pile” for the submissions of writers whose output and writing style they admire, but dare never grant publication to?

                                                            PART THREE

            I want to reaffirm my penchant for past analyzation, a phenomenon I mentioned in Part One of this discussion. And without seeking either pity or praise, I wish to tell you that hardly a day elapses in which I don’t find myself attempting to discern whether I’ve lived properly or in vain. But, being most likely both a romantic and a realist simultaneously, I’m believing I’ll never really know the truthful answer to the quandary posed in the preceding sentence. Nonetheless, I remember most of all the good and evil I was part of. And I know the same about many others. But I’d like to note one residual effect granted me by my ponderance of bygone days, and it is how a number of people seem to think they’re somehow more holy, or at least simply better than others. And, it may well be that they’ve never committed any serious misdeeds in their lives but, nonetheless, they’ve somehow set themselves up to be society’s arbiters of good and evil. And, they usually like to gossip. And, it seldom matters to them if the “information” they’re disseminating is true, false, or as it usually is, half true and half false.

            And I can tell you that I’ve fought the effects of unwarranted gossip in my life. But of course I’ve also known much happiness and sadness, yet no doubt fear is the emotion upon which most of my memories are based. And I’ve known many fears, but truthfully never any  as great as those I felt in very recent years when all one needed to do was watch newscasts of hoards (or caravans as some called them) of people walking northward to invade my nation. And America had a president then who didn’t seem to care that his (and our) land was being besieged by foreigners from our south initially, and then later from virtually everywhere on our planet. And he and his democratic party apparently didn’t care, or couldn’t understand the dire effects that the millions upon millions of illegal entrants they were permitting to enter our land would have upon us in our lifetimes; but far more importantly, the great negative impact they would have upon true Americans in years to come.          

            But hopefully those days of illegal entry into the U.S. are now over, and hopefully the future leaders of America will follow the lead of our current president who is now trying to right the great wrongs of his predecessor. And thus, now, in these days of liberation from the invaders whom our forty-sixth president allowed to enter our nation illegally, we must show support for our new president as he attempts to rid us of a very dangerous mob.

            And although America will now hopefully free itself from the stranglehold illegal entrants were beginning to wield upon it, one wonders why America’s liberals would wish to have their nation subdued by foreigners. Why would they and their president want to expose the American population to the dangers posed by non-citizens living in the U.S.? And why would they desire to make hard working Americans subsidize the lifestyles of people who violate their neighbor’s territory due to hatred and jealousy? And most importantly, why would they wish foreigners to become the dominant citizens of a radically changed America in years to come?

            It may be that the questions asked in the preceding paragraph will never really be truthfully and entirely answered. Nonetheless, now is the time Americans must remain strong against liberal criticism of their nation’s deportation of its illegal non-citizens, because now is the time they’ll hear about how much tariffs and the deportation will cost. But remember, had the previous presidential administration not allowed our nation to be over-run by illegal foreigners, the current administration would not now have to undertake the removal of those foreigners.

                                                            PART FOUR

            In Part Two of this discussion, I claimed that disorganization can sometimes lead one to commit unnecessary or even dangerous activities. And, while that’s certainly true, I suppose it could also be said, although in a no doubt unfortunate sense, that those who lack a complete foundation of orderliness may at times be freer in regard to the actual performance of deeds. They may not always need to lay out grandiose plans before they take any actions or write any words. But then again, even that postulation is debatable.

            Nevertheless, my ex-wife whom I always felt belonged to the disorganized category, still likes to get in touch with me from time to time. And when I see her number on my caller ID, I know I’m in for either a bout of boasting or complaining, or both. And her latest call did contain both.

            You see, she’s remarried to a wealthy man now. And she and he live well. And she informs me of their great joint deeds. Last week she called and told me they’d just returned from Europe and would now soon embark upon some journeys to some large U.S. cities. But she also had some bad news.

            It seems my sixteen year old daughter, who along with her younger brother now live with my ex-wife, came home from high school very depressed one day recently and told my ex that two of her close high school friends (Donny and Kamaraderie) who had been “going steady” since they were freshmen, had broken up. But why did they “break up” asked my ex-wife?

            And my daughter answered “To me this sounds really stupid, but apparently they got into an argument about whether protesters and hunters should be legally pardoned if they supposedly break the law.”   

[rfhusnik]

Forty Six: You'll Leave A Legacy Of Peril Part Two

                    

      Written By:  F. John Surells

            Since Part One of this discussion has appeared in print, I’ve not unexpectedly received both favorable and unfavorable comments concerning it; and I’ll not respond to either of them. But I will reply to a punctuation concern that was apparently created by it. Why didn’t the words forty and six have a hyphen between them as is customary in the English language? Well, I’d challenge anyone to have more respect for the fashion in which our native tongue has evolved to its current state, yet, we’d better change some of our ways and our national leadership, else we may all be speaking Spanish in the years to come.

            Frankly, President Forty Six doesn’t deserve to have his title hyphenated given what he’s done to our nation. And as we continue to be bombarded by political ads in these last days before our national elections, we’re being told a lot of things by a lot of people, but one undisputable fact outweighs, or dare we say trumps them all, i.e. President Forty Six failed at the one presidential responsibility which supersedes all others. He failed to protect the American populace from external invaders.

            And thus, in the years that will now transpire, upcoming generations will suffer because of the deluge of illegal trespassers whom Forty Six allowed to infiltrate our nation. And President Forty-Seven, if it should be the near-Communist put forth by the Democratic Party, will do nothing to rid us of these people; indeed she’ll probably allow yet millions more to invade us. But, if America elects the correct candidate as President Forty-Seven, then American writers will be literally able to honor that decision with proper hyphenation, and the nation as a whole will display its deepest gratitude.

            But the Democratic Party no doubt allowed massive numbers of foreigners to enter the U.S. in the expectation that these “new Americans” would keep it in power for many years, and perhaps even doom the Republican Party. Already today we’ve seen some members (who actually must have been political imposters for many years) of the conservative party say they’ll vote for a candidate whom, while she was in the U.S. Senate, had the most radical left-wing voting record of all the occupants of that legislative body at that time. And some military “big-wigs” have apparently also endorsed her; evidently they feel they’ll be able to boss her around should she become President. And yes, presidential weakness is the perception she’ll inspire amongst America’s enemies. After all, it’s known that the liberal political party does have amongst its ranks many office seekers and office holders who are actually non and anti-intellectuals. They’d like to see a “dumbing down” of America. That would give them an upper hand in upcoming elections – they think.

            But as we look back upon the dangerously failed presidency of Forty Six, and then take note of what Democratic candidates for various political positions are now telling us, it’s easy to see what the real goal of the Democratic Party is, i.e. power for itself – and itself only. And it doesn’t take great insight to see the condescension the Democratic Party displays toward America’s working poor, and how it tries to plant the seeds of jealousy and anger within America’s middle class by constantly degrading those who’ve, through honest effort, been successful in America’s capitalist society. But of course nothing is said about those very wealthy individuals who contribute to its candidate.

            So brace yourselves. A whole crapload of left-wing propaganda will be dumped upon you before the November election. But remember, America belongs to its working classes! It doesn’t belong to foreign infiltrators, or those who believe that by calling the U.S.A. a democracy rather than a republic they’ll be allowed to further dangerous political beliefs.

            And also remember this:  It’s abundantly clear that most of America’s media, its actors, actresses and TV hosts, and in general the majority of people living along its West Coast and the northern half of its Eastern Coast seem to favor left-wing radicalism over common sense. They’d rather allow non-Americans to live better in the U.S. than actual American citizens, and, if possible they’d like to have the Americans of the Great Plains, the Midwest, the South, and the Southwest do the physical labor necessary to keep everyone fed, while they disrespect all that America should be, and attempt to reconfigure it so they can be its left-wing lords, and those living in what they term “fly over country” can be their serfs.

            And when Democratic candidates tell you they’ve done a good job in regard to immigration, they’re attempting to insult your intelligence. It may not be possible to stop illegal border crossings entirely, but certainly this travesty can be greatly stopped, and through deportation hopefully reversed. Remember, during the term of president Forty Six millions upon millions of illegal trespassers entered the United States Of America; and if they and their offspring are allowed to remain here, their presence here will be profound in years to come, such as to endanger the futures of “real Americans”. But yet the Democratic candidate for president says she’s a candidate who’s focused upon the future rather than the past.

            And, liberals like to tell Americans that they’re not being friendly to their environment, and that this fact will be problematic for them in years to come; yet, according to leftists it’s apparently alright to allow millions more people to live illegally in America. But I guess those non-citizens won’t strain America’s environmental quality in the years to come, only those people who are really Americans will do that. Plus, of course we know that all the illegal trespassers who’ve come to America were fine outstanding citizens of the nations they left to come here. Thus apparently in the mind of Forty Six and his cohorts, none of them will pose a criminal threat to real Americans.    

[rfhusnik]

Forty Six

Written By:  George Jennifer and F. John Surells

An Introduction To “Forty Six:  You’ll Leave A Legacy Of Peril Part One”

(George Jennifer - mayor of the city)

As readers of this forum know, its submissions are no longer accepted on a regularly published schedule. Only such material as is deemed “dreadfully relevant” or “uncompromisingly entertaining” will appear here from now on. But when I received this two part disclosure from one of our city’s best writers, I knew it had to be our first deviation from our new policy.

The Text Of “Forty Six:  You’ll Leave A Legacy Of Peril Part One” (F. John Surells)

As political office seekers now enter the final phases of their campaigns to fill such positions as will need to be filled in November, it might be well for Americans to focus substantially more upon the illegal entry of foreigners into their nation, as well as economic and international policies, rather than solely upon abortion. Judging by the content of many current political ads, it seems that most left-leaning candidates seem to think that abortion rights are more important than the protection of the American citizenry.

Four years of a failed Democratic presidency have left the U.S. with serious domestic and foreign problems which will only worsen should a radical leftist become president forty seven. Indeed the Democratic candidate for president can’t be trusted to commit to the deportation of illegals currently living in the U.S.; and remember, many of those are hardened criminals who at this time are already placing the lives of law-abiding Americans at risk.

It doesn’t take a lot of intelligence to appear at rallies and on campaign ads and promise leftist dreams which would economically handcuff the American economy if ever enacted.  Anyone can stand in front of a microphone and say “Oh yeah, we’ll deliver a middle class tax cut. And we’ll build a lot of new homes. And we’ll really sock it to those billionaires. And we’ll make sure anybody who wants or needs an abortion can get one.” But middle class tax cuts have a way of disappearing amidst the realities of modern day life, i.e. the money saved there (if any) is then recouped by the government for more spending. And who will pay for a project of increased housing starts? And billionaires can have it socked to them, but they’ll sock right back when they increase the prices of the goods and services their companies provide, or move their businesses to foreign lands. And abortion? Well, maybe each person, male and female, needs to search their own soul on that one. But isn’t that why each state can now deal with that topic individually?

Nonetheless. despite such musings, it should be understood that the amount of damage the policies of America’s forty sixth president will have upon our nation in years to come will depend greatly upon how much its forty seventh president will be able to reverse some of forty sixes’ errors. The effects of the inflation forty six created will linger on. Prices (on most items) may not decrease much (at least initially), but perhaps the trend toward severely increasing costs can be reversed. Yet, the economic problems associated with the forty sixth president will not be the most dreadful inheritance he’ll leave to the Americans of tomorrow. That distinction will be claimed by the societal landscape he’ll bequeath to those whose families have worked and struggled in the American states for generations; and yes, that includes whites, blacks, and other foreigners who became legitimate citizens of the U.S.

Unless huge numbers of the illegal trespassers whom forty six allowed to infiltrate the U.S. can be sent back to their native lands by forty seven, their presence in the American states will have a profound and most likely devastating effect upon American society in years and generations to come. It’s estimated that somewhere between seven and twenty one  million foreigners illegally entered to the U.S. during forty sixes’ term in office. And it’s known that many of those are lawbreakers, many are dangerous criminals, many are drug users, many are sex offenders, many are drug, sex, and child traffickers, many have mental problems, many harbor jealously and hatred toward Americans, many will, and already have severely harmed or killed innocent American citizens, and one would expect that almost all have barely a dollar or a peso to their name.

And if the people just alluded to in the previous paragraph are allowed to remain in the U.S., you can imagine (or maybe you can’t) how they’ll change the American way of life in years to come. Indeed it’s possible that down the road (many say in about forty years) America will be looked upon as just another Hispanic nation, leaving Canada alone as the only non-such country existing on both American continents.

And what effect will the Hispanicization of the U.S. have? Will all citizens be required to speak Spanish rather than English? Will laws be passed to favor Hispanics over whites and blacks? And will indeed the white and black races become virtual slaves to Hispanic overlords?

The United States of America is but one of many nations which exist upon planet Earth. Of course much is said and written about it as it is arguably the most powerful of all those nations. Yet, it is really but one sovereign land, and as such its citizens deserve to have its borders respected and defended. No American should be saddled with the responsibilities of  foreigners who violate his or her nation’s boundaries, and then, at the expense of those Americans, attempt to live the so-called “good life” in the so-called “good ole U.S.A.”

And, of course the immigration crisis, if not in fact created by the Democratic Party, has been greatly exacerbated by its candidates’ actions and non-actions. Today, some (and most notably its candidate for president who, during her years in the Senate and as Vice President did nothing to reverse illegal immigration) of its office seekers are telling American voters that they voted many times to stop illegal immigration! Well, as we look at the current situation, it’s clear that all those votes, and indeed the legislation they were cast upon, were meaningless attempts to stop illegal immigration. They were simply ploys to try to aid the Democratic Party in upcoming elections, and of course especially the presidential contest. Let’s get serious about reversing illegal entry into The United States! Let’s build a wall, and place a military presence along our southern border! And yes, let’s end the policy of granting American citizenship to newborns born to non-citizens currently living in the U.S.

[rfhusnik]

There Is But One True City Of Sanctuary Part Four

      Written By:  F. John Surells

            I’m sure most would agree that living amongst unanswered questions and unknown reasons doesn’t help one find what society as a whole has determined to be “stable” or “normal” ways of life. Yet, I think I can truthfully say that most of us who live in this city have gladly accepted that reality of fact within our own lives, in exchange for our city’s provided sanctuary from the wickedness of the outside world. But, oh yes, it’s true we have all the usual problems associated with urban life here. And our city has three distinct areas. Our north side is populated mostly by successful and wealthier individuals, while our south side features middle to lower class people living in locations which vary in appearance from the stateliness of the north side to outright slums.

            But there is a third area or zone of this city. And it’s an area which we know to be populated by creative type people and artisans. And to those of us who live north or south of it, not much is known about it. And many say that much of the sensational and otherworldly activity that occurs in this city, has its origin there; yet I believe although some emanates from that area, much is also generated elsewhere.

            And, it’s always seemed to me that some residents of this city have been trying to establish what they consider to be “normalcy” or “sameness” here. But, in my experience, what’s always appeared to be one undeniable fact concerning our city is that it’s a “testing ground” of sorts for leaders of other realms of existence – realms which either lie unseen to us in this reality of earthly life, or which exist in outer space, or both. And, although I hope this isn’t true, sometimes it seems to me that we who live in this city live within an unreality which is perhaps based upon the reality of others.

            Nonetheless, it can be said of us that we never tried to cover up why or how past political leaders were killed. Nor did we stymie the knowledge of how contagious diseases really began. And we always demanded that all elections were carried out legally within our city’s limits. And we never sought to bring back into the limelight what may have been minor indiscretions from long ago in an effort to help ourselves politically. And if indeed we found certain parties guilty of lessor crimes, we didn’t assign sentences upon them which far out weighted what they’d done. But what in my opinion was our greatest achievement was that we never allowed our city to be overrun by so-called migrants who wished to spread hatred, disease, poverty and laziness within our city. And now, having stated what I believe to be matters of fact concerning our city, I’ll proceed to the end of this piece with some examples of bizarreness which I know to be true, because I was involved in them.

            Although I always lived mostly amongst commoners, I also sometimes contacted human stars, some of whom were still burning, others who were extinguished, and still others who were simply bucking. And there were quarrels, drunkenness, cursing, and warnings of future futility. And some were informed that they’d need to secure good spouses in the years to come, as those certain ones were reckoned to be too damn lazy and stupid to support themselves. And thus, it seemed those who’d been pre-judged were continually swimming against a tide of demeaning remarks.

            And, maybe that’s why many worthless memories remain now. And it appears they live on to supply both laughter and tears. But the laughter seems significant only sometimes, and the tears seem relevant when one remembers all one has heard, seen, and been willingly or unwillingly part of. Yet, today as we sit here, let’s try to have both the sensibility and courage to first realize, and then admit that many others lived then in far more dire straits than we.

            But gosh, when we try to sympathize with others, don’t personal skeletons often seek to free themselves from our closets of memories? And don’t those fleshless forms then remind us of how, while we were always wrong, others were always right? And why were some people always automatically the good guys while we were always bad? Oh, but those good ones took note of us. They told us not to worry too much about our futures. They said their democratic party would straighten us out someday.

            And they told us leftists would gerrymander voting districts, and illegally stuff ballot boxes to ensure they won future elections. And they also said liberals would have plenty of non-citizens and dead people voting. Plus, they also promised that biased law interpreters would try to remove from the ballot the names of such people whom they feared might defeat their buddies in upcoming elections. And, they said those same interpreters would also institute meaningless lawsuits against certain candidates in an effort to derail the campaigns of those candidates.

            But, I suppose not unexpectedly, the final part of this submission leaves me looking backward. And, I’m realizing that today I’m just as helpless as I was when I first understood what helplessness really was, or could be. So, just now, within these words, I’m going to try  to, for a brief while, leave behind what I believe are the strictly “reality based” segments of life around me. Yet, yesterday on the news I heard a woman say that our children are the Americans of tomorrow, shouldn’t we pass this referendum and improve their high school? And I also saw a president bragging about all he’s done for America, while in reality what both he and I’d guess the lady asking for more funds have really done is put future Americans in peril of becoming serfs to Hispanic overlords.

            So, anyway, don’t set your controls for too much volume! Too much volume has been known to disrupt trips backward. And be sure your mind and briefcase are filled amply with free falling (and rising) words. Words are the great defenders – I think. Yet of course they might also be accusatory. Nevertheless today, here where we can’t be touched by the possibility of intervention by all such types as tell us we’re paranoid, or at least living ill-advisedly, we’re thinking back. And we’re thinking back to lives lived outside the window’s pane, while our pain was often very real, and yes, I suppose also sometimes imagined.

            But the time has come now for us to board our so-called magic carpets! And let’s appoint this certain day as a day of reflection! Oh no, don’t tell me you’re disappointed that I wish to not spend it in a hall of mirrors!

            But wait! Now there’s an old man trying to stop us. And now he’s trying to thwart our departure by telling us how great he is, and by informing us that he has little tolerance for conservatives. But now he’s tripped over a sandbag! And from one of the carpets someone has yelled toward him and asked him to think about how future Americans will suffer because of all the illegal aliens people such as he have allowed to enter the U.S.!  “The United States of America will become the Hispanic states of America because of you” he calls back at the old man.

But now our journey has begun. And now we’ve been flying for some time. And now suddenly we’re landing where two people are obviously lovers. And they tell us they’re mortals from one of the twentieth century’s first seven decades. But they refuse to divulge which one it is. So, out of courteousness we ask if they’d wish to join us on our carpets. “ Oh no,” they reply “you may be headed for one of the future mass murder sites.”

            So we fly off then, and somehow separate – each of us with his or her own carpet. And personally, I’ve found myself now on what appears to be a dance floor. And it looks as though I’m back in time! Probably I’m in the 1800’s! And who’s paying for that large orchestra to play those nineteenth century waltzes?

            But gosh, I feel so embarrassed now! I’m standing here by myself near a table which has some drinks upon it, and I’m woefully under-dressed. And by under-dressed I don’t mean that I’m nearly naked – instead I’m clad as a motorcyclist might be. I’m completely in black, with a chain connected to my belt and wallet. And now a beautiful young lady is approaching me! She’s clad in a long flowing white dress, as are all the other females here. And I’m standing here looking like a biker. But then I remember that motorcycles probably haven’t been invented yet. And then she walks up to me, and appearing to be oblivious to my out of context clothing asks me “Hi, what’s your name? I’m Countess Von Hindenburg.”

            “ Oh, I’m F. John” I replied. And before I could ask her if she knew how I’d come to be there she said “Your last name isn’t Fitzgerald is it?”

            “No, you must have me confused with the writer” I said. “I’m F. John not F. Scott.”

            And at that moment the orchestra struck up a classical piece which even I, as basically a hater of that sort of music, was familiar with.  

            “Let’s dance” said the countess.

            “I can’t dance to any type of music,” I replied, “but especially not to waltzes.”

            “I’ll help you” she said.

            And so we walked out on the dance floor. Many other impeccably clad couples were already out there. And somehow I found I could waltz with the countess! But what surprised me more than even that, was that no one on the floor, or indeed in the whole grand ballroom seemed to notice how out of place my attire was!

            But then suddenly, as if someone had shut off a light switch, my nineteenth century fantasy was over! And I found myself in some sort of garden. “Are we alone here?” I asked the only other person there with me.

            “I think so” he/she said. “We’re out by a farther row where once it was said trees probably wouldn’t grow. But they’re here now, and so are we.”

            And I replied “Yes, we’re here now, but I can still see myself, many years ago, already then casting stones against all evil, and trying to reinforce all that was good. And yes, I’m not too boastful or timid to admit that even then I knew the difference between right and wrong, that is, how right and wrong seemed to be defined by society at that time.”

            “But aren’t you concerned that every day time’s passage leaves you with less time to live?” asked he/she.

            “No, because I’ve learned that eras come and go. Once we needed to (or believed we needed to at least) understand all of life’s necessities and machinations. And we tried to leave no stone unturned. But today our dedication is defensive rather than offensive, although we still do ‘push the envelope’ from time to time if we feel it’s necessary to do so.”

            “And when you see yourself as you were long ago, can you figuratively slip back in time to become that person again?” asked the person with me.

            “No, but at least in most instances I think I can see now why things were said and done as they were.” 

            And now that the carpet ride is over, I’m back home, and I’m confronting the dilemma that ours is a world of many societal problems. And I’m realizing now that many of those problems are generated by passed on generational traits, or acquired negatively impacting tendencies. And as I’m pondering that reality of problems, I’m realizing that mental and physical attributes which are rooted in cynicism will never be able to impart any goodness whatsoever.

            And thus, today I find myself in constant search of answers to all questions which pertain to negative impacts. And I thought I’d found an important “key to life” sometime ago when I asked someone whom I respect greatly “What in your opinion are really the two main factions whose animosity toward one another fuels many of this world’s problems? Is it a racial matter (one skin color, or ethnic group against another)? Or is it political (the left against the right)? Or is it religious (the five main religions against each other or any of the lesser beliefs)? Or is it economic (the rich against the poor)? And, by the way, all those examples could be juxtaposed. Or is it something else completely?”

            And he answered “I believe a large share of mankind’s problems emanates from the diversity between artistic type individuals and the so-called status–quo; with the term status-quo referring to all such non-creative types who wish to live in a world where all mortals are basically the same. And to keep all mortals similar, creativity and intellectualism must be subdued. But if for a moment you’d like to become a status fighter, then join me. And, yes, I’m glad you’ve decided to accompany me. Can you note how our minds seem so much more open now? And now our thoughts are upon places, peoples, and situations far away! So tell me, how is the sun shining on Oahu today? And are wishes currently being granted at the Trevi Fountain? And, who are those literary types from the 1920’s now walking down the Champs-Elysees?”             Well, most likely it’s time now to at least attempt to shut off our thoughts of years gone by. And, I suppose it might also be propitious to once more confront the inevitability that nothing can change what’s occurred in elapsed time, although there are those who attempt to reconfigure bygone events so as to make them seem either much more consistent or inconsistent with what they believe are currently held societal views.

[rfhusnik]

There Is But One True City Of Sanctuary Part Three

      Written By:  F. John Surells

             As I sit amongst these empty chairs, time’s reflections filter in through the glass that’s near me, and settle quietly but importantly around me. And with a mind which I know will soon be looking piercingly backward, before any past thoughts can revisit, I submit a prayer of thankfulness for the fact that it’s a sunny day. And it’s a quiet day, both inward here where I am, and outward, at least as far as I can see. Still, I know much noise does exist – out there – out beyond my current scope of reality and imagination. 

            But I can truthfully tell you that in my comprehension the peacefulness which surrounds me now, assures me that mine was a victory in the end; yet only a personal one, for all must individually participate in the so-called game of life in which many necessary restraints are often ignored, and many bogus rules are often crafted. Still, I wish I could impress upon you how significant this current moment’s lack of distortion is. It exemplifies my guess that one subjective era of conduct has ended, and signifies my acknowledgement of the fact that another will now need to begin. And God, I’m thinking now of the ramifications of such a new beginning. And just now I’m experiencing sobering thoughts! Their possible reconfiguration of character shocks me psychologically, and escorts me mentally backward to many happy memories, but also brings to the fore the sense of anguish I know because of the fact that Lucifer accomplished much during my years of existence.

            But, as I said, it appears now that one era has ended and another has begun. And, as I’m thinking about my approach to this new beginning, I’m remembering what Orlon spoke about in Part Two of this discussion. He said that we (meaning all mortals) must never allow self-pity to be our life’s commander. And thus, I’ve decided that for every time we mentally find ourselves with the Romans at Teutoburg Forest, or with the Confederates at Gettysburg, or sailing aboard the Titanic on an icy Atlantic, we should also remember that day at The Louvre when Mona Lisa took leave of her so-called “mystic smile” and winked at us.

            And believing that, I’ll try to convey how simply free I feel today. Yes, I feel free, perhaps not completely from societal responsibilities of commission and omission, but at least liberated – liberated in one’s mind. And I can say to the man looking back at me that I’m not especially concerned about any performances on any screens, stages or playing fields, nor within any bedrooms. I’ve learned that time’s unfettered passage is all that will remain of any significance upon this planet in all those temporal eras that lie ahead. But, I do believe that a Divine Master will stop earthly time at some point. And when it’s stopped, I know not if it shall ever begin again as we experience it now. But, for those who’ve known its previous continuance, in a court of eternal judgment, their deeds committed and left undone will be evaluated before the onset of an everlasting era.

            Over the years I’ve been criticized for using the analogy of life to a card game. Yet, I fail to see how it’s not valid. When we sit down at the table is when we’re born into a real world around us. And when the cards are dealt is when our talents and possibilities to achieve in the future first become our birthright. And then of course the actual playing of the cards represents our decisions to live our lives as we choose. But for some the analogy is invalid in that in some games one can trade one’s first held cards for others, while in most games one must play what one’s been dealt. And, for me personally – oh the richness of that diversion from true analogy! Oh the awareness it brings to the fact that life is so alive! And yes, sometimes events occur which can drastically alter life’s pre-planned course.

            And how relevant is the second half of that previous paragraph to me today. I’m trying to write a Part Three to this disclosure which is entitled for our Sanctuary City, and already now I know there’s too much to be said here in one submission! Thus, a Part Four will be necessitated! And I don’t know how well that will “sit” with our city’s mayor George Jennifer, especially since he, through Rashon and Orlon, promised initially that the entire Sanctuary City submissions would be completed in one part! And, later, if I’m not mistaken, he and they then vowed that surely the entire piece would end with a Part Three. Well, I’m sorry, but I think I’ll need a Part Three to emphasize the more “down to Earth” aspects of life in our city and nation, and I’ll require a Part Four to relate some examples of how bizarre life can be here where I daily search for order amongst degradations.

            So, just now I’m embarrassed. I feel belittled to have failed to complete this task in a concise and orderly fashion. And yet, the more I say about this topic, the more I ironically add to the reason for its necessity! Thus, I’m somewhat confused as well as dispirited. And I’m noticing that my current confusion is “opening a portal in my mind” so to speak! Just now I’m realizing that confusion is one of the main components of creativity. And I guess it’s this realization that I’ll allude to later in this piece (somewhere in either Part Three or Part Four) when I’ll speak about what happens to one when one understands that an era has ended.

            But, those of us who live in this city are, I suppose one could say, symbolic representations of all the mortals one might meet along one’s earthly journey. And, we’re here, I think to show mankind how peace can be found individually, within oneself. And since we’ve been granted a clear assessment of eternity, we wish only to be a part of our Lord’s harvest someday. Yet, until then we’ll wait for every summer’s soul appeasement, and admit we know that both good and evil have been sown in time’s temporal vineyard of reflections.

            And, as you know, reflections concerning the past, as well as musings about the present and future, lead to decisions. And our city’s mayor, George Jennifer, has said that except for possible infrequent, and in his opinion necessary postings, the various parts of “Sanctuary City” will be the last in a series of fairly regular submissions. And thus, at this time I’ll say a heartfelt goodbye on behalf of myself, our mayor, Orlon, Rashon, and all those others who’ve come to know you via these posts. But, while it’s difficult to say farewell to friends, it’s also sad to remember bygone places, things and ways of life.

            So, as I prepare to end here, I’d be remiss if I didn’t say that may God forgive me if, in prior postings, I’ve failed to impress upon the Americans of today (and especially those of younger and mid-aged years) what a necessity it is that the U.S. secure its borders from foreign carpetbaggers soon. As someone who’s trying to live a good and fruitful life, and who believes one should work for one’s living rather than sneak into someone else’s territory and then attempt to live off the labors of the owners of that territory, aren’t you scared when you see pictures of the great masses gathering at your nation’s border? What will become of those people someday if they’re allowed to remain in the U.S.? Surely, they’ve already brought much disease, crime, poverty, and most likely hatred into your nation.

            But today it seems that many legislators (especially those of a liberal nature) want to see how many bodies can be packed inside a nation before such packing causes either the death of those bodies, or the downfall of the entire nation, or both. And don’t believe your nation’s leaders when they say they can’t stop illegal immigration. A very high wall could be built along the nation’s southern border or, at least a strong military presence could be stationed across it. And then, should some still manage to enter illegally, they should be returned to their homelands, or incarcerated here upon their capture.

            And, don’t be fooled by the failure of the recent political legislation which supposedly ended the immigration problem. That bill wouldn’t have satisfactorily addressed illegal immigration. It was actually designed to aid the Democratic Party’s effort in the upcoming presidential election. Also, remember this, if you really want to curb illegal immigration, do you appoint as the leader of the effort someone who shares an ethnicity with the violators?

            But, all that’s been said here doesn’t negate our belief in legal immigration. We still support those who, for whatever reason, feel they would be more productive in a foreign land; that is, as long as they follow that nation’s immigration laws. And, before we end here, let’s emphasize how imperative it is that the U.S. elect a conservative president soon. Look around you. What do you see? What you see is mass shootings, and a general disregard for law and order here at home, and blatant violations of territorial and human rights abroad.

[rfhusnik]

There Is But One True City Of Sanctuary Parts One and Two

      Written By:  Rashon Leyf (Part One) and Orlon Braem (Part Two)

PART ONE

             Today, if not in a verifiable realness, then at least in a satisfying imagination, I’ve come to a tolerable acknowledgement of the relevance of all that’s occurred in the past, is occurring in the present, and may yet happen. And no one I think knows what should be considered a worthwhile understanding; nor does anyone understand what, or how much knowledge should be considered worthwhile to possess. But when I look at the world I see today, I know then that much of Earth’s past, present and future is unknown to me. It’s hidden from me. And yet, I’m so aware that my basic ongoing struggle is to simply navigate through the moments of the present. And yes, I’ve lived through an enormously small portion of the past, and the future will be mine in a very small installment.

Not long ago, when our city’s mayor George Jennifer informed me that “One True City Of Sanctuary” would be the last in what’s come to be a rather long series of internet postings, he said he envisioned it to be a disclosure of three parts. But he also said that as time passed, some other postings might yet appear, should their publication be deemed necessary by what he termed his “superiors from other earthly realities.”

            Well, apparently before we’ve even been allowed to “sign off” (as some people say) here, such a necessity has arisen! “One True City Of Sanctuary” was to have been a three part discussion written by myself (Part One), Orlon Braem (Part Two) and F. John Surells (Part Three). But when the various parts were received by our mayor, he determined that John’s Part Three would render the entire piece too long for submission. Yet, since he liked all of John’s words, he decided that rather than edit them, he’d simply use them as a separate posting. And he then informed me to edit my previously written Part One, to include within it what I’ve just divulged. Thus, welcome to what I guess will be the second to last in what’s become a rather long, yet in my opinion, well timed series of internet postings. Oh, and the mayor wants to apologize for previously informing readers that this would be the last disclosure. He said to me “Funny how easily plans believed to have been cast in stone can sometimes be broken. Oh, and Rashon, please remember to inform the readers that we reserve the right to publish yet again – down the road – especially since no one yet knows what the upcoming presidential campaigns will foist upon the American public.”

So, anyway. I suppose it’s rather unfortunate that a series of writings is basically ending. But, I feel it’s important to remember that perhaps the greatest topic that’s always been stressed in this forum is that people, places, and things change as years and eras pass. And yet, despite the truth of that previous statement, I feel it’s imperative for mortals to hold fast to those “realities of life upon Planet Earth” which have proven themselves to be of the utmost necessity to mankind as a whole. And although it may seem arrogant, or overly patriotic to say this, I think the continuance of the superiority of the United States Of America amongst all other nations should be a hoped for development in the decades and even perhaps centuries to come. But why would one say that? Simply, because the U.S. has shown itself to be a great mitigator of worldwide problems.

            Still, as years have passed, the great American nation has become infiltrated by massive numbers of foreigners who, despite what anyone says, will never be able to keep the U.S. as the world’s leader should they ever become its dominant ethnic majority. Yes America, if you don’t stop illegal immigration soon, eventually The United States Of America will become a Hispanic nation, joining all those others to its’ south. And, as dreadful as it is to ponder, who’s to say that at such a time, bogus reparations may not be sought from what had previously been America’s majority ethnic group?

            So, to stop that development is the challenge that we here in “the city” now leave to you the populace of the states in America, as we ourselves fade from a written spotlight. But of course time will continue on here as it will elsewhere. Yet our dedication here, where the outside world impacts us minimally, will be to continue on in the great lifestyle of the individual.  

                                                            PART TWO

            When I was a child, I lived in fear of all that surrounded me. My life was stressful because those I shared it with didn’t fully understand the specialness of the city in which we lived. And I feared that the life form that continued to breathe within me then, was but a phantom of all it probably should have been. But after I’d grown to adulthood, one day I received a call from our city’s then mayor Ralph Hawk. He told me that besides being mayor of our city, he was also the leader of a group of what he termed “underground types” who had recently been establishing residence along the northern banks of the river which divides our city economically as well as geographically.

            And as you know, I accepted Ralph’s invitation to join the artful types by the river. But whether I was worthy to be counted among them, or whether my words were ever of any value to mankind, still isn’t known. Maybe someday some of what I’ve said, done and written will be found to contain some societal, spiritual, humanistic, or God only knows what sort of merit. Nonetheless, I guess that’s all I can hope for now, and from this day onward, all I’ll be able to live for. But I must not allow myself to find a scapegoat within the sorrow induced by pity.

            Oh, and self-pity is such a demon! Yet I wonder if people often fail to note its great strength and influence. And I also wonder if they sometimes designate the blame for wrongful actions to it. But yes, we do know some of self-pity’s manifestations. Along the roadways of life we spot it as a driver out of gas, stuck in a ditch, stymied by a flattened tire, or involved in accidental mishaps – but not accidents of a truly dire nature – not those in which someone was really injured or killed. No, self-pity is too weak a force to have become involved in such developments. For whenever truly heinous acts or crimes have been committed, self-pity has turned over the commandeering of life’s vehicle to other dreadful emotions worse than itself. And yes, we’ve also known them. They’re such as jealousy, despair, anger, or a few others which are the most tempting jewels sent forth from the haven of damnation to terrorize mankind. But of course whenever those dread emotions may have succeeded in their quest to lure mortals into the perpetration of various evils or debasements, they’ve been pursued down the highways of existence by the police forces of law, order, civility, and human rights.

            But I’d have to say that, as is the case with most I suppose, my outlooks on life have been substantially founded upon my interactions with those of the older generations still alive while I was young. And I’ve always believed that my parents’ generation, the so-called “baby-boomers” felt the same about their parents’ generation as I do about them. I’ve heard it said that living through the Great Depression and the second great war cast a cloud of pessimism, and even a lack of the desire of advancement upon that generation (my grandparents). And probably, because it had become fearful of spending much money, that generation also became fairly conservative as regarded its lifestyle or, perhaps we might accept the fact than many of that generation were conservative socially, while being liberal politically; and that can be a dangerous mix, especially when the resulting confused, and frankly hypocritical mindset is eventually bequeathed to future generations.

            And that mindset has, I fear, promoted mediocrity, and discouraged personal advancement. And thus, life today it seems is being lived exceedingly more and more to placate the non-concerned, the non-informed, and most dangerous of all, the careless. And it seems we now live in a society in which all humans are encouraged to be the same. And yet, despite all attempts made to “level the playing field” (God, that’s a ghastly phrase!) over, oh, let’s say the last seventy or so years, so much disparity still exists between each and every human! But my main criticism of those who are sanctioning and implementing such attempts, is that I fear they’re  always too concerned with what they consider to be “chances to succeed,” rather than with the innate differences of ability which exist between all mortals.

            And, amidst all my passing thoughts and realizations lies the brutal fact that time continues, and ours is always less and less of it. And all those goals that we and others had – were they only rays of sunshine quickly clouded? And who were the really great mortals? Were they the dictators such as Stalin? Or were they the conquerors such as Alexander? And was Alexander really great?

            Of course many say that “the commoners” are really the individuals who are living correctly. But personally, my heroes have always been those mortals I’ve considered to be living “carefully.” Still, of course mine has also always been a troubled sense of questioning. And, because of such temporal confusion, I’ve always clung to the appeasing truths and falsehoods of “the city.”

[rfhusnik]

Cliched Codes: I'm Not A Teenager Anymore

      Written By:  Co Vet

            I’d like to begin these words by thanking Mayor George Jennifer and his, as he terms them “supervisors from other earthly realities” for permitting me, for a second time now, to expand upon some miscellaneous thoughts in this his city’s primary forum. But, in truth, while I am sincerely grateful for this second written opportunity, I’m also again displeased that the mayor has once more denied my physical presence within his city’s limits. “Why won’t you allow me to meet you and some of the residents of your city?” I asked him via a telephone conversation.

            “We’re afraid that your physical presence here among us might be so dominating as to actually overwhelm us health-wise” he replied.

            Thus, I guess once again my visit to the city will be done compositionally rather than in person. And I’ve heard that there were some who, after I’d submitted my first installment to this forum, expressed their disapproval that I’d been allowed to access them via written words. Nevertheless, I feel I can say without boasting, that the impact I’ve had worldwide warrants my second prosal opportunity here. And I know that, well, almost everyone still affixes the number nineteen to me. And that doesn’t bother me, but time does continue on; and people, and other physical entities do change with its passage. And personally, I guess I’d say that my most significant change has been that lately I’ve been trying to appear in “variant versions” of myself! And yet, even though everyone still envisions me as being nineteen, I’m not a teenager anymore.

            And I know that rightfully, youthful advice givers aren’t often taken seriously because at an early point in their lives they simply haven’t lived long enough to have accrued a meaningful amount of real world knowledge. Thus, for those of us of fewer years, it’s probably better to listen than try to be heard. But, in my personal case, of course I’ve been an unfortunate exception to the rule just stated. And I think I can truthfully say that I’ve already done enough to have cast an everlasting mark upon the history of mankind! But yet, ironic and untrue as it certainly seems, my wishes are not diabolical. In fact, I say this to the people of planet Earth:  Take care of business! Keep your human population from expanding beyond its capability to sustain itself; and, facilitate the peaceful passage of time by acknowledging that population’s innate personal, physical, mental, societal, and territorial rights.  

            And yes, I believe that many times what people don’t know doesn’t hurt them. Still, I also know all the evil I’ve instigated. Thus, these words are my apology for all that’s happened on my watch. And they’re my petition to a truthful Lord:  Please grant mercy and forgiveness. And please comfort those who’ve, at my doing, suffered and recovered. And ease the pain of those who now remain after one or more of their loved ones have slipped… But I’m not a teenager anymore.

            And I suppose if I should humbly ask that all my wrongs would be absolved, I’d need to counter both circumstantial and verifiable evidence in the court of eternal determination. At nineteen, I changed the world. But I’m not nineteen anymore, though the number behind my professional name still says I am.

            And will my beginnings ever be truthfully learned of? And if indeed I’m someday found out as having been purposely loosed upon mankind, what will mankind’s reaction to that finding be? And of course I know how I began, but to use another relevant cliché “That’s for me to know, and for you to find out.”

            And although I’ve only lived twenty years now, that’s been enough for me to know that many who’ve lived much longer than I still can’t verbalize, let alone answer any of the great questions which have held massive significance during their lifetimes. But I think as years pass, humans find themselves analyzing acts of both great sin and godliness as they attempt to battle various states of mind which portend fear of their nation’s, as we’ll as the entire world’s future. 

            But I don’t expect mortals to pity me; not after what I’ve done! Yet, while my particular type of illness has caused great physical harm and/or death, it’s also extracted a mental toll on me personally, as I’m sure, if you’ve read these words thus far, you can deduce for yourself.

            Oh, and then with a mind so liberated, so unencumbered, and so unconcerned about what others may think or say, I often ponder words which somehow concern non-reality, but  which are based in reality. And I’ve come to believe that all forms of art, that is, all that’s read (literature), viewed live (all types of performance art except music), listened to (music – live or recorded), or viewed in non-live performance settings (painted art, drawn art, sculpture, etc..), was initially conceptualized in at least some modicum of realness.

            And the very real consequences of all I’ve become sometimes remind me of a somewhat poetic grouping of words I once encountered during one of my attempts at self-education. But so that quotation might expressly fit my personal situation, I needed to change a few words within it. And it is that “My satisfaction emanates from moments aesthetic, when within the ongoing conflict between true artists and lovers of conformity, my figurative seizure of brief lands, lands me brief, but true gratification. And I’m so aware that this was my turn on planet Earth! But I was forced to execute my allotted portion of temporal time through the use of viral actions and physical occurrences, rather than with both the real and imagined weapons of the so-called ‘common man.’”

            But of course that quote reminds me of what I perceive as being a constant struggle between the artist (meaning one who engages in any art form, not only painting) and the so-called “commoner.” And, maybe besides, or perhaps because of that struggle, there’s always a question of how well any artist, or any artistic creation of any artist, is or are really understood by a working class public.

            And, the so-called artist is often left to fend for him or herself. And that the artist struggles against both the criminal and commonplace factions of society cannot be denied. But, of course one’s conception of art and artists is always dependent upon the worldly circumstances prevalent at the time.

            And who can refute the fact that the pace at which mortals live their lives within time’s passage has greatly quickened over the years? But yet, one basic question, as regards living one’s life has remained:  Should one’s life be substantially lived for oneself only; that is, should one, while of course adhering to the laws of society, focus one’s existence almost exclusively upon the results one’s actions will have upon oneself or, should one attempt to ascertain the effects one’s actions might have upon a populace in general? Oh, it’s difficult to face that question! And while its accepted answer may seem so easily fathomed by some, and indeed taught in schools and amongst religions denominations, perhaps its real answer, while basically correct, isn’t as completely correct as one might initially surmise.

            But I’ll leave you to ponder the above mentioned question. And as I leave, I’ll remind you of how time always continues, and how, as it does continue, changes occur around it; though its own essence does not change. And I know that some believe that the changes wrought by time are automatically good, but others have learned that they often aren’t. Yet, who can deny the truth and relevance of this cliché:  The more things change, the more they stay the same? And yet, despite that tendency toward non-change, I’d like to think that I, Co Vet, struck an eternal blow against sameness.

            Nevertheless, it now seems to me that my influence is beginning to wane. And that’s to be expected! Yet, much evil may still be left for me to engender! I actually don’t know! But it’s not easy to be a source of evil. And it’s devastating to have no alternative but to follow the dictates of evil’s master. And for the well-being of mankind, I’d prefer to simply fade away now. But I fear I’ll continue for some time to be a great scourge upon humanity; although, as I’ve stated before, I’m not a teenager anymore.

            And to me at least, within all the words I’ve written here today, sickness and death actually have not been my most significant personal topic; that distinction would go to the simple passage of time upon Planet Earth. And, though many may not believe this, the concept of history being continually added to has always been my central focus of existence. But I know that someday I’ll be gone, and to use another cliché, not forgotten. And when I’m gone, most mortals will no doubt long to return to “pre-plague days and ways.” Yet, some no doubt will then change their ways. They’ll have “learned their lesson.”

[rfhusnik]

Polar Bi

                                                            Written By:  Anonymous

God! I feel free today – as

free as the sails

on the fake windmill

in the backyard

But I’m fearful of

those liberal finger shakers

who demand we give them

four more years – they

say they’ve served so well

senatorially and as a vice

to the president while we

were outcasts who lived

always for our first

and second selves only

Yet, today I’m remembering

a great writer who said it’s

a great sin to waste the

ability to creatively use words;

and as military conflicts rage

far from home, I’m also

recalling how another writer

said that although he didn’t

live constrained by the dictates

of repressive and/or

murderous regimes, their

tyranny didn’t fool him

So today I’m thinking of

how we attempt to successfully

navigate in waters where

many persons, places, and things

place shipwrecks to stymie our

daily advancements – only punch in

to the sameness of every day they

say, and then punch out to the

blandness of night – time passing by

But I think we possess the

proverbial “Get Out Of Jail Free” card; so we’ll play it now, and now

it’s offering such a clear mental

portrait of great influencers who

once, long ago when we were already

questioning what they sought,

convinced us that they knew

what they were seeking

And I think they’d learned

lessons from past generations’

world wars, and now thought

they’d be able to stop future

military catastrophes

But now naysayers are saying

that our daydreams of past days

are rendering us dissociative,

and others greater than us are

whispering of our possible identity

disorders – and some say ours is

manic depression – to have unusual

changes in mood, energy and concentration

Thus, let’s nominate this as our

present day mission:  We’ll attempt

a disassociation from all supposed

psychological trends, and, we’ll

call ourselves “Me And Only I”

And, we’ll seek to comprehend

how each individual

carries on while yet in

temporal years – yes – that should

be our objective, though we’ll

pretend a keener interest in

the bipolar – it makes a

better poem title

And, let’s suppose, though

we know not for certain,

that one would try

to emphasize one’s favored side,

while attenuation would be

sought for the other, yet,

of course, we also can’t

say that for certain

But we can say instead 

that it appears as though

on certain days some of 

the forms contained (restrained)

within one corpse must admit

that serious or comedic

reliefs don’t always relieve,

and then one needs

(maybe?) to look at

one’s directions differently

So, let’s look across

all the poles we possess, and

let’s find the always fleeting “new way to live,” although,

of course, like before, we’ll

again only use a new way when

we feel like we want to, or

when we feel we need to

And, yet, if we really feel

mandated by observable change,

probably we should conduct ourselves

more sullenly then, and

less inquisitively, and,

most likely, we should then

allow those who, in our

knowledge, act ill-advisedly,

to continue on in their

newly considered satisfactory

unsatisfactory styles

Because surely someday they’ll

realize that styles are

the superficialities which try

to conceal the several

personal wars raging simultaneously

within – from which numerous battles

ensue, and then spark

multiple skirmishes always destined

to consolidate into one

engrossing inferno

But most people know

that when Misters

and Misses X and Why

say they’re bi, they

often speak of polarity,

not sexuality – not that those

who exhibit more than one pole

couldn’t or wouldn’t wish

to perform in (or on) diverse

stages of attraction

[rfhusnik]

My Synthesis Of Vaguely Related Parts

 

      Written By:  Marshall Lawe

                                                                        PART ONE

            I wonder how many people can truthfully say they’ve never said “Today I’m starting over?” Well, I’d like to think that this day is a restart for me, but then I’ve restarted many times before. And I’ve lived chaotically – but not unlawfully. Thus, I remain on the outside of all prisons today, except of course for those symbolic ones, created for me by myself and others. And isn’t it usually true that such others as deem themselves “normal” often seek to recast all whom they consider to be in non-conformance, so that those non-conformers might then be “normal” also?

But today I’ve got what might be termed a three part story or, perhaps a three part disclosure would be a more apt title. And it comes to you established within the boundaries of talent both possessed and lacking by a (I believe at least) sadly misnamed literary wannabe. But I still have some freedoms left. The left hasn’t been able to confiscate all of them as of yet. And thus, I’ll proceed. But these are only random thoughts and realizations generated by miscellaneous events.

A few years ago, while Covid was raging, I asked someone whom I respect greatly what he thought would happen should ever the facilitators who facilitate a smooth transition of every present second into the past, become tired, wearied, or ill. And he replied “A catastrophic occurrence would then occur. Mankind would then be forced to exist in two time frames simultaneously, until such TIME as the situation could be rectified.”

“Lucky for us we have strong, capable, and intelligent leadership in the U.S. today” I replied. “And by God, they make sure we know about how great they are too! ‘Right - man, oh no, I mean left - man! And God save the queen!’”

            A few days ago, as I was walking by the airplane, I saw an assemblage gathering there. So I walked over and joined it. And as I was finding a place to stand amongst the onlookers there, I saw an elderly man stumbling his way up the plane’s entrance steps. Finally, as he reached the top of the special stairway utilized by that particular plane, he turned around, waved at the small group of us who were below him, and disappeared into the flying machine. But then suddenly a new man appeared at the top of the steps. He’d left the plane. He walked down the same steps the elderly man had just climbed, and when he reached the ground, some people who called themselves secret servicers asked him what his name was. “My name is Order” he answered. “And I’ve come to restore societal order. But remember, personal order must be your own personal goal. And it lies within your grasp only, it’s outside the reach of detractors.”

            And that particular incident then made me, as many incidents do, reflect back upon what possible reason or reasons my parents may have had to give me the first name of Marshall when my last name was Lawe. And yes, that question has troubled me over the years. And many have been the instances I’ve found myself wondering; searching amidst the very real happenings of daily life, hoping to find some sense of systematization in a world of apparent chaos. And whenever I’ve asked my parents why they named me as they did, they’ve always answered “We felt like naming you that at that time.”

            And maybe that’s why that often, in what I suppose are reflective moods, I find it necessary to admit that all sounds that bounce away from us down the hall, will hit the ending wall, and then reverberate back toward us again. And then we’ll know if we can stand amidst them. Yet, perhaps we’ll need to adjust our sunglasses, say some words which make no sense, and then disappear into either an airplane or a hedgerow, or indeed off someone’s worldwide stage. But as we leave, we’ll need to remember to say “God save the queen man.”

            But, despite whatever we’ll need to do, or whatever others have felt they needed to do, no one can deny that one day a new man appeared. And he appeared to be orderly. And he said “Yesterday, in the world as it was before most of us entered it, offspring often fought with elders. But elders often refused to desist from treading along dangerous pathways; and they often said ‘We’re not alone when it comes to making mistakes.’”

            But was, and is mankind too tolerant of past and current wrongdoing? Some say “Most likely no” others say “Definitely yes.” Oh, but those people in the hall, have they become entangled amongst various ways of life? And do they, or do they not want society to take care of all its children? And is that a dreadfully vicious circular argument? If some are required to spend too much of their own wealth for others, will others then eventually need to spend for them? That’s one of your, my, and mankind’s great dilemmas.

            But I’ve grown tired of hearing about people’s siblings seeking shelter in the streets. Maybe it’s time now to talk about the childishness being exhibited by many of the street brothers and sisters. I know it’s controversial to comment negatively while seeking out sun rays; one might get burned!

            And always remember, private defenders (meaning not lawyers, but simply those who care about themselves only) are looking out for themselves only. Nonetheless, they do understand that lawbreakers, who knew enough to break society’s laws, but yet who then couldn’t afford legal representation in their attempt to sidestep punishment, will be supplied with public defenders (meaning lawyers).

            And now the time has come for you to ask yourself if you sympathize with the killers who roam American schools, or with the gunmen who mass murder innocents on American streets and inside American buildings. And do you have compassion for those who drive their automobiles into large groups of people? And what about those who brutally knife to death people who thought they were their friends? Insert your own cynical and perhaps satirical comments now. But you won’t change the fate of those who were murdered.

And why is it that so much of American life seems to be in decline? Some people apparently don’t know to which sex they belong. And at home, and in foreign lands the borders of nations are routinely violated. Domestically foreigners cross a river and then impose themselves on a nation’s true citizenry, while internationally lands with huge wealth and territory continue to murder citizens of their much weaker neighbors – to say nothing of the destruction of property they’re also causing there. Oh, but some of us are oblivious to the plights of mankind. We can’t see beyond our sunglasses.

                               PART TWO

In Part Two of this discussion I’d like to speak to a few ongoing phenomena which have troubled me for many years. As a champion of individualism, I’m greatly concerned about the “group over self” mentality which seems to be gathering acceptance. I want each person to care about, and take care of him or herself first, before he or she supposedly tries to aid others.

And the loss of individuality constricts me. But somehow, ironically I suppose, it places me in quiet and lonely chambers. And as I exist in those chambers, I come to know the scarcity of reflective moments during which one might be able to visualize particular corridors of life down which one will need to tread before one’s final judgement is imposed.

But on such days as this, this is my goal – to find a beginning I can satisfactorily blend with a worthwhile conclusion. In other words, I need to find a synthesis in the chambers. And I need to follow only such corridors as will guide me to unopened doors behind which secret answers may lie.

But I’m not looking for more codes of restriction. I’ve been subjected to far too many of them already. And I don’t want to be bent and shaped by truth benders. Oh, and just because someone has been charged criminally for crimes many believe were perpetrated by others, doesn’t mean that person is automatically at fault for pointing out the misdeeds of others. But yet, here’s the problem: Who’s to say if the accused or the accusers are right or wrong? Who knows if elections were conducted honestly or not, and who knows if plagues were intentionally started, or began as unfortunate occurrences?

                                          PART THREE

I’m glad you told me about what befell you that summer day long ago. Now I can tell it to others. You and its driver were the only passengers in that truck that day. Suddenly the driver pulled off a modestly busy highway because he said he’d spotted something lying in the ditch. It turned out to be an old sales catalog which, in those days, were still sent to various people via the postal system. “Why in the hell would you stop for an old catalog?” you asked.

“Sometimes those things have pictures of women with not much clothes on” he told you as he re-entered the truck, and handed the “great find” to you for your perusal. But then, if somehow out of the clear blue, he launched into a somewhat philosophical discourse! “I believe that only one person ever lived without ever having committed any wrong” he said. “And only he ever really and truly cared about those whom society deems as helpless, hopeless, homeless, or destitute. And therefore, to all who have sinned I say ‘Watch first for salvation, lest you spend eternity with your nemesis Lucifer. But then also watch for the advancement of mankind. And keep all mortals free individually, because individually is how all lives must be lived.’”

And when you asked him if he didn’t find it strange that pictures of scantily clad women apparently led him to emphasize the need to avoid sin, he said “Stranger things have happened. But now let’s both shut up. I need to concentrate on my driving. Say, did I ever tell you that I dreamed once that years from now people will actually be able to talk on phones while they’re driving? I wonder if that won’t be distracting?"

[rfhusnik]

Butterfly Beautiful Part Three

      Written By:  Anonymous

            I’ve been a follower of this forum for some time now. And I’m also a resident of my city’s so-called “artistic enclave.” And, I’ve heard that until now, no one from our group of artistically minded individuals has ever been featured in this literary spot.

But some time ago, upon my encounter with a butterfly, I submitted my impressions of that confrontation to our city’s mayor George Jennifer. He said “Finally I have something worthy of print from our group of local artists (artists referring to all types of creative individuals of course, not just writers). Yet, then the mayor later informed me that he felt it would be desirable to have someone named Orlon Braem compose an answer to my initial “Butterfly Beautiful Part One;” and he named Orlon’s subsequent piece “Butterfly Beautiful Part Two.” And now, here we have a Part Three, written by me, the original anonymous Butterfly author; and offered as a retort to Part Two’s answer to my Part One – if I haven’t confused you by now. And, hopefully the symbolism Orlon Braem asked me to supply in a Part Three, has been supplied here.

Anyway, I am somewhat honored to be the enclave’s first writer in this posting. But, when I wrote what became the original Butterfly Beautiful, I had no knowledge or desire that it would become a three part disclosure. And now I’m hoping that Part Three will be its final part. Nevertheless, I’ve remained anonymous to everyone concerned with this writing, except for my city’s mayor George Jennifer and those unknown entities who must grant approval to all submissions posted in this forum.

But, my desire to write this today has been bolstered by another recent encounter with the beautiful butterfly. I saw it as I was walking by the property owned by Orlon Braem. I was curious to know more about Mr. Braem, and thus went investigating (or perhaps snooping is a better word) near his north side home. And, as I was walking there, I saw the butterfly perch itself upon the right arm of a scarecrow someone had apparently placed on Orlon’s back lawn. “Why have you settled upon an arm of Orlon’s scarecrow?” I asked.

“Orlon doesn’t know yet that this scarecrow is here. It’s still morning, and he hasn’t looked out upon his back lawn so far today. But, I’m sure when he sees this strawman he’ll come out of his house and remove it from his property. Oh, and yes, odds are he’ll also disassemble it.”

“Who put it there?” I asked.

“Well, do you remember that in Part Two of this discussion, Orlon challenged you to write a Part Three which would discuss the symbolism generated by mere speculations concerning my relevancy and, even perhaps my realness?”

“Yes, I recall that” I answered.

“Proceed then” said the butterfly. “If you believe strongly in the power of written words, then you must know what they’re capable of. Yes, I’d wager they might place a scarecrow on someone’s lawn, were that someone a someone who had recently referenced how certain people are currently using them to report matters of mental impressions.”

“And the irony is that mental impressions can’t be achieved by a scarecrow. After all, he has straw for a brain” I replied.

“You’re on the right track now” answered the butterfly. “Perhaps you’ll still manage to discover some worthwhile philosophies of living from this rather confused telling of what some say they saw and thought because of me.”  And then the beautiful butterfly flew away.

But that butterfly’s words have stimulated my desire to achieve clarity from out of miscellaneous musings about, and sightings of that insect for whom flight is a possibility. And today I’ll dedicate that clarity to someone who apparently has less and less of it on each passing day. He’s good at criticizing others. And he has a very high opinion of himself, although he’s become a topic of controversy.

Nevertheless, no matter what anyone may think of me as an anonymous writer, or what mankind as a whole may feel about that world leader whose cognitive skills seem to be declining daily, I’ll continue onward with my fight against stupidity, confusion, and all forms of radicalism. That’s my lot in life I guess, although I’ve always felt I was a well-meaning man caught within the barriers of passing seasons. And, as those seasons passed, I was always left to wonder what punishment should be assessed for lives taken, as well as lives wasted. And it often appeared as though the penalty should be sunny days dead eyes would never see. Yet, then again, sometimes it seemed ample retribution could be achieved through merely forcing the “bad guys” and “bad gals” to live from moment to moment, blindly unaware of what the purposes of their lives might be. Still, after such consideration, I often felt that many lives were lived thus involuntarily. After all, the minds that guided them afforded them no other alternative.

But perhaps we too often emphasize the abstract. And maybe the time has come for us to admit we can do nothing else righteously but attempt to exist satisfactorily amongst various objects, plants, animals, and, yes, other human beings. But what does the word satisfactorily really mean in relation to human life? Does it own and connote matters only temporal, or is it perceived as it no doubt should be, as referencing the eternal life we’ll all someday certainly possess, though some shall claim it in glory amongst Spiritual Masters, while others shall suffer within it, forever in the grasp of Lucifer, his apostles, and never ending damnation?

And the truth of the last paragraph reminds me that while some of us are story tellers, all of us are reality experiencers. But God it’s such a fast paced world today! And I’m living within it, always it seems, with little planning. I’m existing only, I believe, to help consummate the passage of time. And sometimes I cling to a meager outline of life. Yet, other times the intelligent thoughts of others provide me agendas to emulate.

But if it’s true that my ultimate dedication is to nothing more than time’s passage, at least I can say that I often notice how a harmonious present is becoming a verifiable past. And, when that realization occurs to me, then I feel rejuvenated; yet, my ever present observation is that as mortals we always struggle, often feeling barren not only in our bodies, but in our souls as well. Nevertheless, who can rightfully tell me that often, during our earthly existences, we don’t unknowingly hold the truths of life in our hands? And who’ll admit that almost always, as referenced earlier in this piece, we’ve sought the peaceful transference of each just elapsed second into the books of history? And give us credit now! We’ve tried to keep those whom we’ve been the shepherds of safe in all courts and bedrooms!

And if ever we’ve found ourselves in need of past affection, we’ve reached behind our bodies and seized bygone goodness. Yet, while doing so we’ve been cautious not to touch unbelievers, questioners, or status reproducers, for they are the liars who tell innocents that only they have the keys to unlock previously unlocked doors; and that only they know of whence necessity actually emerges.

Beautiful butterfly you’ve solidified the sun beams of the past and present! And your eyes scan millenniums. But as an arbiter of both lawful and unlawful discussions concerning correct living, you separate truths from falsehoods, and then render your verdicts back to Caesar, and far beyond him!

Oh what piercing eyes see great wealth, poverty, peace, war, feasting, starvation, peacemakers, warmongers, success, failure, mediocrity, attempts to establish order, order, newness, old ways, chaos, kings, peasants, nobles, factory workers, management types, minorities, majorities, religions, philosophies, ways to live, blasphemers, hatred, and that word that many wish wouldn’t be spoken here. Yes, love’s a word now rendered questionable for us to mention. Oh, I know it will remain a much used word, and probably a much misunderstood word. And it’s the word that describes what all of mankind needs more of.

But nowadays it seems society wishes to coddle its worst lawbreakers. And it apparently needs to sympathize with current mass murderers. And, it allows perpetrators of vicious crimes from long ago to be paroled. But then again, I guess all they really did was kill some rich people one night, and some middle class people the next night. And, didn’t they write some words on the walls with the victim’s blood?

But you know, I'd better end this piece soon. I’m looking outside now. It seems calm out there. Oh, but on my mind just now are the man and woman I saw on the news last night. I guess they murdered (or had someone else murder for them) a young boy and girl some years ago. They said they did it for religious reasons. But now I’m thinking about a call I got from a friend of mine last night. He said his girlfriend had called him the night before, and told him they must break up because she has a new guy now, and he loves her more than he.    

[rfhusnik]

Butterfly Beautiful Part Two

     Written By:  Orlon Braem

           I’m alone here today with my memory of fears, and my realization of what appears. But I’m thankful for all I’ve received in goodness, yet I’m also traumatized by all I’ve known as evil. And to add to my confusion, recently the leader of a supposed free world told mankind that he wished God would save the queen. Well, yes, but doesn’t that phrase usually refer to British monarchs? She’s dead I thought. Oh, maybe he meant we wish her immortal soul will now be saved, after all, royalty and peasants will all be treated the same before the judges of eternity – right?

           And God forbid I would ever say I could truthfully know of the peril many have suffered for seemingly accidental reasons. Yet, I do know every mortal must somehow continually advance through all impending time frames. But, I feel somewhat ashamed to admit I don’t exactly know what all that’s been said in this disclosure thus far really means. I only know it’s visited my mind; thus, it must be confronted.  

           And, for some reason, I’ve been asked to answer the reactions an unknown someone evidently garnered as a result of his or her encounter with a beautiful butterfly. But I don’t know how to do that! I don’t know him or her, and to my remembrance such a fluttering entity has never appeared to me. So, I suppose all I can do now is state my impressions of the apparent impressions captured by the writer of Butterfly Beautiful Part One.

           Oh, and here’s a challenge! My suppositions in this piece (Butterfly Beautiful Part Two) will be, I’m thinking, grounded in what I’d term “basic reality.” Yet, I’m also thinking that the truth, or more likely truths concerning the butterfly are possibly esoteric. And therefore, perhaps the unknown writer of Part One of this discourse would like to return in a Part Three to shed more “light” upon the puzzles and uncertainties raised by his or her sighting of a winged insect.

           Nonetheless, as I said as I began this piece, my current setting (with setting referring to state of mind) is one of solitary reflection. And I guess it’s one of those times to again ponder if indeed I’ve fulfilled all the failings which years ago I was prognosticated to achieve. But, now I find myself trying to guess someone else’s impressions. Yet today, in my cognizance, I find my own personal experiences to be of more importance to myself than any of those of any other mortal. And it seems that usually when I think back to all the things I’ve seen, heard, and been part of in my city, I become fearful of their past, present, and future ramifications. Still, I know I always did what I believed I needed to do at the time. And, I always tried to ward off self-pity.

           But I must admit that a few clichés remain with me constantly, and haunt me constantly; but never more than when I’m called upon to express opinions via the written word. And yes, clichés denigrate modern writing, yet, in my opinion, also usually provide a sort of synthesizing clarity which offers an unquestionable orderliness to modern living. And here are some relevant examples of such trite phrases:  The past has passed, we can’t go back in time and change it. Many people, things, and occurrences are gone, but not forgotten. When guns are outlawed, only outlaws will have guns. What they don’t know, won’t hurt them.

But, despite the apparently inherent lack of focus which seems to underpin this writing, as I’m undertaking it now, I feel free physically, but lost mentally. And at this time the beautiful butterfly has still not visited me here, where today my mind wanders backward. And thus, as I’m sitting here now, I know not of the butterfly or of its story teller. All I know is of this city. And I’ve struggled for a new ordering of lifestyles here. Yes, I’ve struggled for that within this city for many years.

           But my overall mood improved recently when I received a phone call from a friend whom I always refer to as “the man from the green city.” And he told me that a number of well known people had recently left the green city to become part of a clique of New York jet setters. And after we discussed that topic for a while, we then spoke about our similar opinions concerning what’s currently happening in our Native American states And we found we’re both fearful that America’s present older generations aren’t protecting their birthrights as they should be. And we shared our concerns that someday their heirs will be left with nothing – the wealth of America having been transferred to so-called refugees. Gosh, I wonder if our ancestors fought those horrific wars just to have their descendants give away their freedoms to people who should remain living to their south? But, my discussion with the man from the green city ended then.

           And then I could see that beautiful butterfly! Somehow it entered an imaginary control room, and pushed a button with the word “ACTIVATE” upon it. And then, before me, seeming as real as real could seem, I saw a dance floor full of impeccably dressed ladies and gentlemen! And they were dancing across the floor, holding one another in somewhat (it appeared so to me at least) tight embraces. And it looked to me as though some of the couples were most likely lovers – but, then over an unseen loudspeaker an unknown voice stopped the beautiful waltzing I was seeing before me by saying “Mr. Braem, please deactivate this fantasy, and get down to your real assignment,” So, alright, I’ll try to do so. But I should probably say that my mind seems burdened today. It’s reliving many events beyond believability.

           And, oh yes, I’ve lived here now, in this city for between fifty and sixty years. And I’ll never leave here. And I knew a long time ago, as a child, that such would be the case. It’s a difficult concept to explain, yet this city is, I guess, in some respects a prison. And those who must remain here, must stay here to confront all city, county, state, national and world controversies. And no, Christ’s mother has never appeared here, but according to numerous people, both Christ and Lucifer have.

           And I always think back to Joseph Same’s account of the time that he and Christ, with all of earthly time stopped, were walking down what had been a busy street in this city. And with all of the traffic stopped, Joe noticed a little girl about to be run over by a car; but before he could go out into the time-stopped street to remove her from her apparently probable death, somehow he first needed to mentally relive many incidents from his past. And I’ll never forget Joe’s soul shattering verbal summation of those events:  “Isn’t it strange how   memories from years ago come back to haunt one when one finds oneself involved in other situations even more troubling than they?”

           But Joe grew up on the south side of the city, while I was born on the north side. We became friends because he spent so much of his youth “hanging about” on the north side. Indeed, he was one of a very few south siders who were welcomed on the north side. And some very wealthy people liked Joe, but that’s another story.

           Personally, I and some of my other north side friends used to like to harass some of the most destitute of the south siders. And as an adult today, I’m sorry for those actions, although none of them were really serious, except perhaps for the prank we used to pull against an elderly homeless man who used to sleep in a south side Catholic church whenever he was allowed to. Sometimes, if I and my friends were “cruising about” on the south side, and saw him slowly walking down a street there, we would throw empty beer cans toward him as we drove by.

           So, now you know we used to drink beer on the north side, but believe me, no one I knew there ever did it to excess. Nevertheless, that wasn’t the case on the south side. And I’ll not burden you with the numerous examples of how I know that to be true. Drunkenness and drug use were common there. And when I was in my early twenties, I actually had a south side girlfriend who died of an overdose. And, over the years, there were a number of serious car accidents there – on the south side. And crime was a problem there. And there were also a few murders.

           But of course there was crime on the north side as well, although a fair portion of it was committed by south siders looking for trouble on our side of the river. So, there was contention between the two sides of the city for many years, but that started to change when someone got the idea or directive to start settling “creative type” individuals along the near north side – very near the river. And to this day no one knows (no one that I know at least) how those people managed to acquire properties along the river, or how they managed to support themselves, or what went (and still goes) on in their area of this city. The streets are open there of course. And sometimes I drive through there. But there’s not much to see or learn there – I guess. The whole area is like an enclave onto itself. Maybe in some respects it resembles a college campus.

           And when I think about my city of controversy, with its actually three areas now, I’m reminded of how all the residents of it, no matter the area of it in which they reside, live lives apart from “normalcy,” although most of the time their lives are what most would consider quite normal. Yet, the chance of the most bizarre and unbelievable events occurring here is always a possibility.

           Yes, the realities of life in my particular city are on my mind today. And although it may be somewhat of an improbable mental leap, thoughts concerning the differences between the residents of the two sides of that city are now making me wonder why there seems to be an assumption that human beings are to live their daily existences in service to, and in care of one another. And, as I admitted earlier, I’m somewhat confused now. And now I’m praying that the unknown author of Part One of this discourse will first be allowed to, and then will write a Part three for it. I feel I’ve covered the down to Earth aspects of the Butterfly Beautiful phenomenon, and now it’s left to he or she who supposedly either mentally or actually encountered that butterfly to supply the symbolic.

[rfhusnik]

Butterfly Beautiful Part One

     Written By:  George Jennifer, and Anonymous

  Part One        

           Yes, another “obscurity” has reached my office via what’s come to be termed “snail mail.” And I’ve been instructed to see that it sees the light of day. So, I’ll ask my friends to reproduce it as it was written by someone unknown to me. And as I did with the recent piece concerning April, I’ll again ask my friend Orlon Braem to write his response to it in a second part which I’ll then entitle Butterfly Beautiful Part Two. And I can imagine how happy Orlon will be to write Part Two! And, oh yes, to help confuse you, Butterfly Beautiful Part One has a Part One and a Part Two! And I’ve written Part One of Butterfly Beautiful Part One, but only God and its real author know who’s written Part Two.

                                                              Part Two

             My beautiful butterfly is my Butterfly Beautiful. And he, she or it is on my mind today, along with all such mind wanderings as he, she or it may engender. And, I’m adjudging that some of the matters I’m pondering now will no longer matter in years to come, but some will, and perhaps dreadfully so. Nonetheless, can one simply start over? Maybe the damage done precludes that. Yet, isn’t it the conclusions drawn, and the assumptions made that constitute the relevance of bygone indiscretions and valor? And, of what personal and/or societal importance are points of view no longer pointed toward?  

           But if you question what I’ve just asked, be cautious. Don’t allow your searches of memories to alter your personality. And, don’t allow them to leave you rueful. That’s my advice, but now I must document some trivialities, as well as some suppositions supposed to have importance.  

I’ve heard there are modifiers of both requited and unrequited love. If so, I’ll respect them with both my good and bad attributes. But remember, I’m an inspector as well as a word user. And I usually inspect only the unusual, and then try to communicate it as if it were possibly usual.

And, may heaven help me, that butterfly’s presence usually leads me off into new investigations, summarizations, and then often determinations. Will you who read this ask the winged one if he, she or it’s a real or fictional monarch? And could you also inquire about his, her or its throne? Is it royal or makeshift?

Butterfly, please calm the concerns I have concerning your windblown flights. Can you transport yourself across our entire known Earth? How have you answered my concerns and questions? Oh, your delicacy is buttered flies!

I hate to say this, but when you’ve flown away, I often function more as a dictator than a problem solver. And then I often fail to properly contend with the matters that may then confront me. But at such times I also often dream about you. And in those dreams I see you sanctioning actions which, in your airborne opinions would most likely resolve certain troublesome situations and scenarios, if indeed those actions would be implemented. Still, likewise at those times, besides dreams of you, I also sometimes experience thoughts about the past. And if my thoughts do stray to bygone days and all that occurred during them, I often mentally initiate investigations into such persons, places and things which were of importance then.

And I’ll always remember that when we first met you were searching for peace, and I was seeking order as well as peace of mind. But now I’ve learned that many mortals have already paid, and will continue to pay a price for disorganization. Yet, it seems that possession of some amount of disarray sometimes grants small amounts of freedom to certain mortals. And personally, I’ve found I need not lay out extensive and/or grandiose plans before I take each step, or write each word.

But oh, I suppose you like to flutter in gentle breezes! And I’d imagine such fluttering about allows you some sense of unhindered decision making and, most likely also helps keep you looking young. And, haven’t many mortals told us that the young look is the “in” look today? But, haven’t we also been informed that any attempt to capture the so-called “young look” is an attempt of vanity, arrogance and snobbishness?

Personally, I’ve believed that if we could keep life young figuratively, we’d then be able to look both forthrightly and reminiscently backward across the years. And I’ve thought if we could look backward using guidelines of youth, we’d then, through judicious assessments of past actions, be able to grant those actions what we’d consider satisfactory resting places in their years gone by. And if those actions can rest in peace there – in the past – then surely we who must always live in the present can live there, in that present, with a conscience far less troubled.

Oh, and now through the window glass I can hear the beautiful butterfly speak! It says:  “I’ve learned that belief in one strong eternal light can sustain one! But it must be the light of heaven, illumined by “The Triune Master.”

And, oh God, I believe those words! And I know now that I can capture, hold, and if necessary release what once had been virtually unharnessable power! Thus, tread carefully you who create zones of war, and also you who tell others they live incorrectly, while you yourself are fortunate to get by from day to day, living as you do in a position of high power you’re unfit to hold.

And what do you see from behind your dark glasses when you manage to leave your hiding place? Don’t you care that you’re allowing foreigners to overrun your native land? And don’t you think about the ramifications that all those “new people” will have upon American society in the years to come? Isn’t it possible that in future years a Hispanic majority will “put the screws” so to speak to all who had lived in America for many years – and yes, that includes blacks?

Can’t you see what’s really wrong in America today? Are so-called “maga people” and others who may or may not believe one race to be superior actually the underlying causes of the mess you now preside over? Or does the fault really lie with the notions that everyone should be like everyone else, except of course if they feel they should have been born into the sex opposite of the one they were, or if they think they should have been a certain type of animal? And in your new society should everyone be permitted to imbibe any potentially dangerous substance?

And what about all the gunslingers mass murdering innocent Americans all across your land? Should we show them pity too? Well, above all else, make sure that your supposedly democratic party wins in all upcoming elections. And woe to America if you and your left wing buddies should lose your positions of power.

But today, within a real world outside of political manipulation, I saw a man quietly launch his canoe while the sun was shining, only to have the weather and the river’s flow become violent upon his entrance into that waterway. And yesterday, on the highway, in the continual backward and forward movement of cars passing by me, for a moment I thought I’d finally found why there is such a phenomenon as life upon Planet Earth.

And the answer to that why is because certain Masters watch over the development and developments of mankind. And they, and those who are their subordinates, whether they be angels or past mortals, guard us who live upon the Earth still. Yet, our protectors adhere to the principle of free will. In other words, humans are allowed to make choices. They’re allowed to choose rightly or incorrectly. And one might wonder why an all-powerful deity would allow mortals to err; yet ours is not an option to question the will of God.

And yet, having said what we’ve just said, another probably less thought about concept concerning free will also exists; and it’s that free will is often not used! Behind a façade of God only knows how many situations and realities of fact, the human being may remain forever untested in the controlled marketplace of thought. And he or she may have a job, and he or she may be a fine citizen of all governmental entities in which he or she may live, but yet, he or she may never be known as someone who had significant opinions, or possibly helpful insights into mankind’s struggle to live temporally upon planet Earth as best it can.

[rfhusnik]

April, Wish Me Really

     Written By:  George Jennifer, Anonymous and Orlon Braem

                                                        Part One        

           Today I have no option but to fulfill an assignment given me by those who sanction my leadership of this city. And one might suppose that supervision of a city’s most basic needs and wants would be challenge enough for any mayor, yet, that’s not the case here. Here apparently the city’s leader must also search for possible truths and falsehoods associated with supplied literary imaginings! Oh, but maybe I only received this task because it’s April!

           Nonetheless, this discourse concerns two wishing to be mortals of apparently youthful years – two innocents evidently seeking a realness which, without the assistance of supernatural entities, cannot be granted to fictional characters. But in my imagination I can see them. And the girl is but a thought in someone’s mind, while the boy was perhaps once a real lad, photographed many years ago standing near his now classic automobile. And if he’s living an actual life yet still, then today he’s certainly a much older man. He’s much older than the man in the picture from long ago. And, because she never had a basis in reality, and therefore never really aged, we know he’s also much older than the girl who appears on a second picture with him. And don’t ask how supposed people from pictures, literature, and mental impressions expect to become real human beings. I don’t know. I’m only a mayor!

           But I guess just as I’ve been selected to introduce this piece, so has my friend Orlon Braem been asked to summarize its possibly useful deductions. And I remember reading once that in the opinion of one of my favorite writers, April was assumed to be the most significant of the twelve entities to which it belonged, the same as Peter arguably had been, and as the juror who finally persuaded the other eleven of supposed innocence or guilt also no doubt had been.

           Still, April’s innate importance must stem from its function as a bridge between the harshness of winter, and the rebirth of spring; with spring’s rebirth of course hopefully leading to renewed expectations. Yes, but how often must we admit that many of our new formed determinations will slip away down the canals of time? And I think you know it’s true; all of our actions are judged, temporally at least, as a result of both our own and someone else’s opinions of right and wrong.

           And my responsibility as mayor of this unconventional city leads me into areas of unknown and unexpected occurrences. And thus I’ve been asked to present, in three parts, both a possible love affair, and my city’s defense of its love of April. And I’m just now ending the first of the three parts.

           But I’ll not tell you who the writer of Part Two is. Yet, I’ll say this:  She’s not a real girl. She came to life in the mind of a teller of tales; and that person isn’t me, although as I’ve already said, I can see her in my imagination. And hers is the second portion of this discourse, written by someone unknown to me, but then submitted to me by my overseers for inclusion herein. And Part Three was written by Orlon Braem. And his was the task to form some sort of synthesis out this dichotomy of what’s unreal and what wishes it weren’t.

                                                              Part Two

             I didn’t want to write this. My dad said I should put in a written form what had happened to me last week. And dad said he’d turn over my words to our city’s mayor then.

           I guess I probably should do something about what happened to me. Actually, if you wanted to be real literal about it, I suppose it was close to kidnapping. But, you know, I understand I was taken, or maybe I could say summoned by forces of long ago – forces that are only part of all the people and groups who attempt to add a bit of strangeness to our city.

           And I’d heard already when I was in grade school that this city was like no other. I’d been warned that literally anything could happen here. But of course I’d never really paid much attention to those warnings. I guess I figured if something bizarre was going to happen, it would happen regardless of whether or not I believed it could or couldn’t occur.

           So that’s my story up until a week ago. My dad and the mayor don’t want me to tell you my name. But I want you to believe what I’ll write here. It really happened!

           I’m seventeen now. It won’t be long until I’m eighteen. And now my senior year of high school is coming to an end. I haven’t decided upon my college yet! But I grew up on the north side of our city. And I attend the North side high school here. The South side has a high school too.

           Well, anyway, I’d just gotten home from school last Wednesday when, as I was walking into the house, I noticed a strange type of car pull up at the curbside. I’d never seen a car like that before. It was bigger than most of the vehicles I see on the streets here, and it had a large white fin-like part on its side. And as I looked at the driver of it, I also noticed something strange in his appearance, His clothes seemed to come from another era, and, I guess, it looked to me as though he probably did as well.

           He waved at me. He wanted me to come over by his car. I didn’t want to go there, yet, somehow, I couldn’t stop myself. I walked over to his driver’s door and asked “Who are you, and what type of car is this?”

           “This car is a Chevrolet from 1957” he said. “And I’m a still young man who’s today, along with my car, been allowed to leave the lifelessness of the portrait which, together we’ve shared since 1958.

“I’m afraid of you” I said.

“Come over here and stand next to me by the car” he said. “I think it’s time for you and I to be recast as real mortals, or at least as characters of a new picture.”

“But I’m already real” I said. “I don’t need to come to life.”

“You’re mistaken” he said, “For almost eighteen years now you’ve existed as a prisoner of literature, kept alive only in the passing thoughts of someone who may someday ask his Supreme Being to give you a real mortal life. In other words, you’ve always been a lot like me; except that I’ve sought true life from the confines of a picture, while you’ve unknowingly searched for it amidst the creative whims of an author’s mind.”

So I walked over to his car then. He got out of it. We stood together near its driver’s side, and suddenly a middle aged man came along and snapped our picture. Then that man left, and I got into the Chev, and the boy and I drove off.

                                                        Part Three

 Well, I guess it had been a while since I’d been asked to write for the mayor; and that was fine with me! It was an April evening, and I was getting tired. I’ll go to bed now I thought. Suddenly my phone rang, and of course it was Mayor Jennifer. And he had another of his always seemingly unbelievable requests. “Earlier today I received a very strange call” he said. “It was from a young couple who said they wanted me to grant them a real life! And I might add that they both spoke to me, yet somehow their voices didn’t seem to belong to real people! But they didn’t sound like those scamming robots either”!

‘“We’ve both been confined in unreality for many years’ they said. The girl said she was the figment of a writer’s imagination, and the boy said he was existing as an unreal human portrayed on a picture.”

“Well, what do you want me to do about them?” I asked the mayor.

“I’d like you, through your use of words, to give them not only a real life, but also a real love affair; after all, it’s time for April love”!

“Yeah, and maybe it’s time our city gets a new mayor too” I replied. But then I continued “Well George, as with all your other bizarre requests, I’ll give this one the old Braem try. But first let me be sure I understand this; I’ve got a girl who was conceptualized by a writer, and a boy who appeared in a picture long ago, and now the two of them want a real life, and a chance to become lovers.”

“You’ve got it” said the mayor.

So we ended our call then. And some may wonder why we don’t text. But we do, yet I guess not in matters of such bizarreness. Anyway, I went to bed then. “I’ll worry about this foolishness tomorrow” I told myself.

And it must have been some time then, when, from inside the confines of slumber, two images, one a young male , and the other a young female, appeared to me. And I saw them inside a mirror! And I surmised they weren’t humans I knew, and perhaps not really humans at all! And they were standing near an old car – probably one from the 1950’s I thought.

And the young man spoke then. “Are you capable of good writing?” he asked.

And I answered him thus:  “I always try to write away all wrongs.”

“Then bring us forth out of this mirror” he said.

And then the female said “Give us a chance to be lovers in a real world.”

And I answered them, “Well, I don’t know that the two of you are ready yet (or ever will be) to be brought forth out of literature and pictures. And, I’m a writer, not a sorcerer! Still, who knows what is capable of occurring in this city! But I’d admonish the two of you; don’t be so anxious to become real mortals. Remember, a wise lady once said that one can’t hurry love. Thus, I’m thinking it might be better if the two of you would, from inside the reality of a real person’s dream, ask the Master of the Universe if He could fashion other mortal examples of you who could fall in love in the real world. In other words, I think the two of you had better return to your fictional abodes.” And then I awakened. It was a nice April morning!  

And I texted the mayor then that, with the aid of apparently the same overseers (or whoever they are) who’d brought this wished for love affair to him in the first place, I’d now been able to write Part Three of this discourse. And I notified him that since I needed to visit his part of the city that day, I simply drop off my words at his home/office. But before I left to do that, I had some moments of reflection at home.

I think I know now what one of my favorite writers meant some time ago when he wrote “I love you in fragments passing by.” He must have been speaking about how love continues although a ceaseless struggle between good and evil carries on all about it. And in his contemplation of that struggle he must have been led to ponder why so many humans strive to do what’s right, while so many others try to commit actions only harmful to themselves and mankind as a whole. But I’m thankful that most mortals find comfort in the peace of everyday necessities. Yet, of course there are some who need to justify their wars. Nonetheless my prayer today is:  April hold me! Prepare me for what may befall me in May and in other months and years to come.