A Series of the Most Beautiful Words Ever Written

 The rock sired the soil, the soil beget the rock.

The Sapling of 2021.

The sapling grew between the fence and the shed again, almost as high as the power lines. 

Dan noticed it while at the breakfast table as he sipped his coffee.

‘Goddammit! When the hell did that happen?’ Dan snapped, waving a hand in the direction of the affront. “I cut that down just weeks ago. Turn my head and there it is again.'

He slapped the tabletop.

'I didn’t sign up for this. Cutting down weed trees every Got-Damnt year!’

‘You need to calm down. It’s not a big deal,’ Jane said.

His wife, Jane. There she goes again with that ‘not a big deal’ routine.

What the hell does she know? Sure feels like a big deal. She’s not the one who has to crawl back there, on her hands and knees, with a limb saw, and the bugs, and animal shit -- again -- and repeat the back-and-forth yanking and shoving and sweating and cussing. Why the fuck did we buy this house in the first place?

‘Take a break, Dan. You’re freaking out again,’ Jane said. She didn’t look up from her crossword puzzle. She didn’t sound concerned, annoyed, or frustrated.

That concerned Dan. It frustrated him, too.

He briskly stepped past her, slid-banged the screen door open and paced out to the shed. Arms on hips, staring up at the ash tree sapling.

‘You little fucker!’ he yelled. ‘This won’t stand. This is the last time!’

Jane glanced up from her crossword.

Dan kicked the shed door inward, but it wasn’t built to open that way. He yanked it outward and slammed his knee with the door frame. He kicked again, wildly, with rage, and put his foot through the weathered particle board. He extracted his foot and disappeared into the shed, followed by muffled cursing, crashing, rattling. 

Seconds later, he emerged with a pair of gasoline cans, spilling their contents from the spouts as he wrestled and jerked his way past the sagging garden gate toward the kitchen door.

‘Whoa!’ Jane shouted.

She stood quickly. Dan had her attention now.

‘What are you doing with that?’ she demanded.

‘Where’s the lighter?’ Dan said.

Jane stood in the doorway, barring his entry. Dan stood at the bottom of the patio steps, gasoline cans in both arms, heaving, shuddering, teeth clenched.

'There is no lighter in this house,' she said.

She hadn't recognized it in time. She’d been distracted with work, with the kids at school, with her high-maintenance friend’s latest divorce saga, with her crossword puzzle. Why can’t she finish just one? Always an interruption. It’s always something. Often, that something was Dan.

He gets like this sometimes. He acts like a scrawny Incredible Hulk with an impotent temper that never transforms him into anything incredible -- other than an incredibly unpleasant asshole.

'Matches, then?’ Dan asked.

That’s a good sign, she thought. He now had a new problem to solve. He'll come around. It takes time -- time Jane never seemed to have, but always seemed to find.

'No matches, either.'

Dan lifted one of the gasoline cans, as if to help her examine the problem in his hand.

'These are almost empty,' he said. 'Gotta refill them. I need the car keys. Lawnmower is almost empty.'

'You should probably refill those,' she said. 'Take the truck. I don’t want to smell the fumes in the car. And take your time.’

Dan looked at her with annoyance, as if he had made some trenchant point that she failed to recognize. Jane stepped aside as he walked through the kitchen to the front door of the house.

He kicked the screen door and held it open with his foot.

'I want to burn it all down. I’ve had it. That’s the last time. I’ve reached a limit,' Dan said.

'I know, now go refill the cans.'

Dan walked through the doorway and let the screen slam shut.

Jane retrieved the pack of cigarettes she hid in the jade plant. She sat, crossed her legs, opened the pack, selected a smoke, produced a lighter from her pocket. She lit, she inhaled, she exhaled.

A breeze awoke the wind chimes hanging from the eves and rustled the leaves of the ash sapling.

Her time will come.

Courage is the First Virtue

Questions:

- Why are you breathing the planet's air? 

- Why are you consuming resources?

- Why are you eating animals, burning the earth's fuel?

- Why are you enjoying the privileges?

- Why do you have this phone, this car, this home?


Why are you here?

Have you even asked youself that question?

I've just about had it with the 24-hour clock.

So irritating.  Gotta track all those damned odd-numbered hours starting with  1300 (which is 1 in the afternoon, by the way. Who the fuck thought that up?)

Hey pal, what time is it?

39:75 hours.

Shut up, you gaddamned communist! You androgynous euro-fascist liberal monarchist...  

Go fiddle yourself with your metric devices in your Roman villa! You monotheist barbarian gothic Hun... 

Go build a slave empire with your war machines. You enslavers... 

Go overpopulate your land and emigrate to other parts of the planet. You colonizers...

Why can't you just tell time like someone from the NEW WORLD?

Natural Human Resources

Discover, develop, and exploit human resources.

 

Search for a resource, and identify it. Categorize the resource and define it. Correct the resource, guide the resource, document the resource, and fire it.

I didn't come here to lose...

I'm a winner. Winners don't lose. Losers never win. Winners are losers at losing. Losing is the least possible winning position. Losing is the WINNER of losing. So, in some cases, losers CAN win. 

When they lose, losers win.

What did I come here to do? 

I came here to win. 

If I came here to lose -- and lost -- I'd be a winner at losing...

If I won, I'd be a loser at losing

I didn't come here to lose.

Daddy's been a great addition to the team

We'd like to take a moment to express our appreciation to our father, who's put in a lot of good work for the family since he joined this endeavor. 

On several occasions, he's risen to the occasion and -- time upon time again -- he has occasioned a rising. In other words, he has gone both above and beyond to serve this family and its membership. 

I, for one, am not ashamed to say that I, for one, could not have done what I have done without him. Others in this organization might disagree on that matter, but frankly they are wrong a thousand times over.

Unfortunately, our father could not be here for this occasion due to his ceasless obligation to service that we so deeply admire.  It would be less than truthful, however,  if we said we weren't relieved. 

We hate him at times. 

But now is not the venue for an in-depth review of his shortcomings, nor is it the time to question how he got the job in the first place. 

We choose, instead, to recognize that our individual failings were created of our own free will and were -- in no way -- our father's fault. 

Now is the time to celebrate our father - a man whom, by all rights, should be revered for his pivotal role in each and every one of our lives. A man whom, without which, we'd suffer from significant want of life had he not arrived at the precise time he did. 

That feat alone we should appreciate.

While we could conjure hundreds of imaginary, hilarious, cartoon characters who could have done better in 'Fantasyland', we'd like to take this moment to recognize our one and true real father, who is about as good as it gets here in on Planet Earth. 

So, raise a glass to father.  

We expect great things from him in the future.

The Blast from a Past

 I didn't have enough to do back then.

An apology for crossing the line

Please accept my formal, official and genuine apology for the egregious line-crossing on a mid-October evening in the Year of Russell Wilson; the occurrence of which might have ruffled the feathers, provoked askance glances, or raised eyebrows.

I throw myself on the mercy of the officiators, their delegates, and their heirs. 

Please forgive me. I will do everything in my power to make amends.

I will kill for you, if that's what it takes. 

I will subvert.

I will oppress.

You name it, I'll do it.

I love you as much as I love life. You and my life are one, the both, the many. 

You and my life are a Holy Trinity of two things, plus something else to be named later.

Shh... don't mention things that humans use to make more humans... shh