"HEAD MAN"


It was a dark, and stormy night my phone rang. It was Satan again. He wanted to know if I had the "merchandise?" "Yes!" I said for the tenth time that day, and hung up. What's the big deal I thought. One priceless severed head of a Pope is as good as another. Still I can't blame da "Prince'a Darkness" for be'n nervous. Especially after what happened to him the last time he went toe to toe with the "Big Guy" upstairs.

My TV turned itself on, and a simulacrum of a young Harry Truman appeared. He was wearing a geisha outfit, and had a rosebud smile on his pouting lips. "Oh Uncle" She purred. "You know this isn't wise", she/he said in Meiji upper caste Japanese. "There's still time." "Heavens Leviathans are still chaseing their ample tails."

"Give Purgatory that fools head, and we'll call it even." Crap! I threw a Stuben figurine of Amy Goodman through the screen. Who could have imagined that the fate of the multiverse would depend on a hasbeen radio announcer, and the rancid head of an ex-Pope.

2.

Traffic was backed up on the Jerry Lewis Memorial Bridge. My skate'n to 'Jersey plan was go'n seriously south. Homeland Security had gone nuts, and was strip searching everybody try'n to get out of town. They wanted that "Head", and they wanted it bad!

My options was dry'n up faster than the Pacific Ocean. Which was just the first plague. One down ten to go. It was time to call in some "markers." I took off my glass rollerblades hailed a peddle-cab, and was biked over to Sutton Place,..the new homeless encampment.

Boy, "New York, New York, a Hella'va Town." All the more so now that Satan, and his bully boys was in City Hall. Still things ain't changed 'that' much. Houseing was unaffordable, the schools sucked, it was too hot, and ya could get shanked in da kidneys for your shoelaces after dark.

I paid the "undead" cabbie with cats eye marbles, the only solid currency these days. I climbed off the yellow tricycle, and joined the ragged shellshocked mob as they shuffled by. I did my best to look inconspicuous. Not easy what with me still wear'n my Gay Gaucho outfit, don't ask, and carry'n a large Kentucky Fried Chicken bucket under my arm.

Yeah that's where I keep it.

I reach's my destination with only minor incidents. Former yuppies begg'n for forgiveness, and fuck'n Jehovah's Witness's. Frigg'n end'a the world, and they're still get'n on peoples nerves.

Anyhow I knocks on the steel plated door of a fortified "Starbucks." A little slot opens'n someone eyes me up'n down. The door suddenly slides back, and I'm stare'n down the muzzle of an AK-47 expertly held by a 13 year old girl.

She wasn't smile'n.

"Eh,..the Cardinal in?" I politely asks.

"You the Head Man?" Replies little snake eyes.

"The same." "Tell ya boss I gots the "Original Recipe", and I'm here to talk turkey." "Ya might also mention my home movies of his indisgressions at a certain boy scout jamboree." "I think he'll want to see me."

Short Pockets lets me in, and goes to fetch her master. While I'm wait'n I makes myself at home. 'Always liked Starbucks, and these days it's the only place ya can still get a cherry coke,..uncut! Yeah looks like the "Cardinal's" do'n okay for himself. He's got the major food groups covered,..loose shoes, tight pussy, and a warm place to shit. Not bad.

3.

I was just knock'n back my third "Cuba Libre", and watch'n a bunch'a drunken batwinged demons abduct a crowded crosstown bus into a mini blackhole when the Cardinal stumbled in. I had apparently interuppted his meditations with Saint Angel Dust. Hey who could blame'em the "Tribulations" haven't exactly been a barrel of laffs for anybody.

"So Uncle, you're still alive." His eminence hissed. "That is unfortunate."

"Well I'm glad ta see you too." I sez put'n on my altar boy with fresh jizz on his lips face."

"Is that him?" Eye'n my "Colonel Sanders" box.

"Have a look" I tell g-ds ex-civil servant. "He likes visitors."

The Cardinal who btw was in full drag, miter, robes, ring, hooked staff the works popped open the bucket. The Vicar of you know who on Urth stared up, and blinked at the sudden light.

"He don't say much" I said,.."seems when they did the deed in Mecca they cut'em above the vocal cords." They don't like their victims talk'n. Bad for business or something.

Ya know the final day's is just full'a interesting sights. The "Statue'a Liberty" recite'n from the Torah, talking fish, and the "undead" re-register'n to vote. But I must admit I getz a kick out'a watch'n the faithful meet'n their underboss. Which is to say 'the' Pope.

The last in a line that started with St. Peter or Mary of Magdeline. Depending on which one ya believe. I remember the both of 'em have'n it out on "Letterman" talk about ya blooper reel! Anyhow the Cardinal was get'n an eyeful. I can only guess at what his former-holiness was think'n.

While still enraptured with the sight of the pontiff's head in a fried chicken box the Cardinal asked.

"What do you want?"

"Who me or ya pal 'extra-crispy' in there?"

His Eminence looked up ashen faced from clear evidence of the 'end' of Faith as we knew it , and said.."You don't fear for your immortal soul?"

"It's in a safe place, but let's get to it." "I wanna ticket out'a town, and a safe conduct pass to the Angelic frontlines."

He smerked,.."Yeah you, and six billion other people."

Well didn't hurt to ask I thought.

My ex-confessor continued,..."Best I can do is maybe a seat on the next migrant ship headed for the "Yankeetown" slums of Shanghai."

My blood ran cold for an instant. "Shanghai", if there were a place that made be'n in hell feel like a "speedball rush" that was it. "No thanks" I said, "I don't do windows."

"Whatelse do you want" asked his eminence clutch'n his monkey's paw talisman.

"Okay, behind door number two I might like ten onces of "pre-tribulation" Holy Water." (The only kind that still works.) That'n a crate'a .45 caliber hollow point zombie sluggs. The 'real' stuff not that U.N. crap that only piss's 'em off. Throw in they keys to your "enchanted" Studebaker'n were jake.

"In return for?"

"In return for his former holiness's left eye."

Talk about a conversation stopper. Even little "Snake Eyes" who'd been cover'n me with her trusty kalashnikov went pale. See the left eye of a Pope,..any Pope can ward off demons, and all their evil fucked up enchantments too. A real handy thing to have now'a days.

Don't leave home without it. I don't neither. I got's an even set of four mummified "papal peepers",..okay corny, but they work. Like a charm in fact, beats the hell out'a them monkey paws everytime! If you'll excuse the expression. Heh, heh. Again not funny, but like I sez these daze ya gets ya laffs where ya can.

"So can we do biznezz?"

4.

Studebakers, enchanted or not, is the most underated car Detroit ever crapped out onto the interstates! When I was a kid these things was as common as crucified nuns are today, and just as popular. Don't know why they stopped make'n 'em.

The light changed to blue, and I accellerated down Himmler Avenue. I made a left onto Broadway'n had to swerve around all the wreckage the "Rapture" had left behind. The National Guard was still scrape'n all that crap up.

Every make of smashed car, truck, and ocassional pulverized airliner littered the landscape. On the upside tho' most of the assholes, fanatics, and busybodies of the world disappeared. Poof! Just like that.

I guess we all gots a story 'bout that day. Sort'a like where were you on 9/11 or when that UFO flew over Dodgers Stadium during the Pennant Game. Ha! There was no hush'n that one up.

With me I was at a staff meeting at my job. I used to work at a radio station. This is before Satan ordered them all closed except for his outfit. Actually their stuff ain't bad. They tell it like it is, and their game shows is funny.

"You Bet Your Life" is my favorite. You win you live, you lose you die. Straight up no bullshit. 'Course most of the show is the losers be'n slowly roasted, and eat'n by the winners, but still. It's an honest game.

Anyhow there I was at this stupid meeting surrounded by untalented morons, and butt kiss'n yes men when,..."Poof!" Them jerks was gone. This followed by the sound of chain reaction accidents on the street outside. Point is every "pain in the ass", and you know the kind, was gone. Btw, the rapture effect really sounded like,..."Poof" 'Heard digital analysis of it CNN 'fore they shut it down.

Here's the kicker. They didn't go to Heaven. The "Poofed." Least that's what Moses said when he was interviewed by Satan on that new "Demonic Network" of his. According to Moses, and btw Cain backs 'em up, seems there's more out there besides Heaven'n Hell or Purgatory.

Apparently the "Big Guy" set up all sorts'a players we never heard of. Well the "Rapture" scooped up millions sure. Zapped them to,...where? Nobodies knows. Not even da Lord'a Darkness. Ha, I luv'z a mystery.

But I digress's.

The Head. My little pal here seems to be the key to a lot'a whats go'n on. Yeah, yeah it's the end of the world, and this Tribulation shit sucks. Ocean's dry'n up, devils everywhere fuck'n with folks, mayhem, slaughter, high tax's, and only one channel ta watch. It's like the whole frigg'n world ate a box'a the brown acid then drank the "Koolaid!"

Ain't we got fun.

But underneath it all is a purpose. The "Big Guy" is up to something, and he's gonna let us all in on it this time. That explains the chaos. See 'before' everybody was in his own patch'n it was business as usual. Now all these weird realities is bump'n into each other, and life is like rent'n a studio apartment in one of Dali's nuttier paintings.

There's a map to where all this shit is go'n locked inside the Popes head. I imagine that's why he's still alive'n so popular.

Stay tuned.

One night folks noticed that the moon was different. It was in three pieces now, and some of the stars was a little closer too. 'Course at first everybody was scared, and ran around crazy. They thought it was the end of the world again, but it wasn't.

After a while people got used to the new sky and calmed down. They even gave the new moons names. The biggest piece which was golden, and shaped like a heart was called "Amos". The next piece which was red, and looked like a star was called "Andy". The last little moon was pink, and seemed to be an ice cream cone,..with a cheery. She was called "Sapphire".

These new moons didn't act like the old one. For one they didn't rise at the same time, and for another they didn't stay put once they did. These guys moved around the sky like they was dancing. Sometimes they'd even flash bright, and twinkle. People, especially kids would stay up late just to watch'em.

Well as you know after 'that' night stuff started to change. Little things, here'n there. New kinds'a bugs, flowers, and animals started show'n up. They wasn't scary or anything, they was just different, new. Like them sea manta's that fly'n nest in trees.

Also some of the old animals ya know like the deers, and cows started doing things they didn't used to. 'And no I don't mean talk. They can sing now sure. The animals be sing'n all the time now. My little sister taught her hamster to squeek "Happy Birthday", and "Jingle Bells". The little guy keeps change'n the word around though, and now it's "Belly Jingleday".

Then there's them cats, and rabbits that went'n grew wings, and is flying around'n landing on peoples heads. 'But getting back to my point,..no the animals can't talk! Com'on things ain't changed that much.

It's getting so people is obsessing on it like it's gonna happen any day. The lady on the radio called it "Focused Hysteria". That's what happens to folks when the universe changes. She also said that we shouldn't worry about "Amos" or "Andy" falling down on us anymore since their orbits has finally stabilized. Although like everybody else she didn't know what happened to Sapphire.

See one evening after this big bugstorm Sapphire just didn't rise. She up, and went away, and nobody not even my Aunt knows where. I hope she comes back one day. I miss her, and "Amos", and "Andy" look so lonely without her.

Well, lets begin at the beginning...

Once upon a time there was a boy that was half Angel. Now this "boy" this half Angel lived all alone in a hut. A hut made of autumn leaves, and bright hopes. This is a boy, a child of light that dance's under the moon, and can hear the stars sing.

This half Angel child is Timmy Tom, and he lives in the Blue Desert. These stories, and dreams take place in the Blue Desert. A desert that blooms. Though you may wonder how can there be woods, and streams in a desert. How can there be flowers, and fields of grass among dunes, and stone. Dolphins, and whales that fly, stars that sing or Angels that bless?

Well such thing are in this desert. They are where G-d put them, and that's good enough for me.


"GIFTS"

Timmy Tom being part Angel was born with special gifts. Not only can he fly as all Angels do, but he can also hear the voice, the "songs" of souls. Every living creature has a soul, and every soul has a song. These songs tells the story of the person, says who they really are.

Timmy Tom can hear these songs. Just as he can hear the wind in the trees or the hymns from the sky. One of the joys of being even part Angelic is that if you wish you can hear creation sing.


"SONGS"

One of the happiest times for Timmy are clear summer nights. When all the stars of the eternal heavens sparkle down. Timmy Tom has counted many of them, and knows the brightest by name.

When all is right in the Blue Desert, the desert with so many things in it. When all is right, the sand, the dunes, the stones. The grass, the trees, the lakes, and sea's, and all the beings living on or within them,..sing!

They sing each from their souls, and Timmy Tom can hear them. He hears, and sings with them. They together sing the anthems of the joy of simply 'being'.

Timmy Tom lives. He is happy to live, and loves all that is around, and within him. This is enough for Timmy. He is in the World, and to him the World is Good.


"DREAMS"

As a soul's songs says who a person is. A soul's Dreams say what they want to be. That's why people see Angels in Dreams. They're watching, and sometimes they guide.

Timmy Tom dreams.

Timmy once dreamed that he was a tree. He dreamed that he could feel his roots growing deep into the world. He could feel his wide leaves, and his thick bark. He could sense birds nesting in his trunk. Timmy Tom could feel the wind, and rain as it blew through his branchs.

Another time he dreamed that he was a rabbit. A wild grey rabbit hopping in the underbrush. leaping through wide grassy fields. Then later resting with his family in a warm cozy bough.

Timmy Tom has also dreamed of his mother. Timmy's mother is a true Angel. She is made of color, light, and love. In these very special dreams he's shown many worlds. Some so beautiful that he weeps at the memory of them. Others so terrible that his heart pounds when they come to mind.

Timmy's mother takes him on these dream journey's for a purpose. She shows him both Paradise, and Hades so he would understand the joy of the one, and the fearful temptations of the other.



"WISH"

Timmy Tom sometimes wish's he were a normal boy. He wish'd he had a human mother, and father, and lived in a house. He even wish's that he went to school, and learned all those silly things that people thought were so important.

Timmy imagined growing up. 'Becoming an ordinary man, and having adventures in the real world. Maybe he'd become a sailor, and travel on a ship with great billowing sails.

Better yet he could be a clown! A clown in a carnival that traveled all over the world. Timmy also thought of love, and being loved. Though very young he was still part Angel. This touch of Paradise opened his eyes early so he knew the power of a yearning heart.

Half Angels are mortal. They live long, very long lives, but like cats, ladybugs, and men,..they eventually die. So Timmy wondered about growing old.

Timmy Tom looked ahead. He closed his wings over his face, and saw the future. His future. He was in a strange land. He was sitting beneath a tree in spring bloom, but he was old. Very, very old.

He listened to his soul his future self, and felt joy. He was old, yet happy to be so. Happy to have been blessed with so much life. His wings parted. The years fell away. The sun was shining, and a warm wind blew from the blue dunes.

"SEASONS"

Time pass's even here. The sun, and moon have chased each other through the seasons. From ice to thaw to bloom to fall. Late autumn has come again to the Blue Desert.

The half Angel sat beneath an ancient oak. The wind blew carrying the last of summer's leaves, and the first of winter's snow. The sky was a pale rose. Clouds shaped like wild ponies galloped overhead shedding a light snow as they went.

Another season of light was coming to an end. All of the creatures of the Blue World prepared for short days, and long cold nights. While Timmy sat his friends the sprites appeared. These gentle beings rejoiced in every season.

These beings were bright little wisps of amber, yellow green, and orange. They first showed themselves as a mist of shifting colors, but then separated into their individual selves. Bright points of light danced around, and over the little Angel.

Happy living sparks poked about his wings, tickled his nose, and flew around his head making a glittering halo, and they sang. The lights sang to Timmy. Oh how kindly, and sweet were their songs.

Timmy the half Angel child closed his eyes. He lost himself in the Blue Desert's woven prayers of wind, leaves, and first snow.


"FAERIE ICE"

The winds were colder now. The skies was flinty. The wheel of seasons continued to turn. Winter has come to the Blue Desert.

Timmy Tom the half Angel his aura glowing softly in the afternoon twilight walked by "Tea Kettle" pond.

The boy walked along the spout. Lights. The half Angel saw lights under the ice!

As he watched intricate weaves of light covered the surface. There were glittering webs of indigo, crimson, orange, clouds of emerald. Waves of silver, and currents of gold. Timmy Tom knelt, and picked up a small piece of this cold fire. He held the glowing sliver in his hand, and it spoke to him.

He saw that as the ice melted in the warmth of his palm it spoke. The ice sang, and laughed!

The joy of Faeriekind, their stories, and songs are not carried away by the wind, and forgotten. They live on in nature. They are welcomed like rain, and sunshine. They are taken in as nourishment by the living earth.

This is why some say they have heard trees speak, brooks laugh or stones sing. The magic, the faerie magic lives in them. Timmy Tom, heavens stepchild, held the melting ice close, and listened.

Timmy heard a song sung months ago in high summer. A lullaby song by a faerie mother to her new baby. Her words, her music had entered the pond, and now is heard again as the shard melted.

"THE MUSIC BOX"

Timmy loves snowy days. At such times it seems as if all the world is in quiet reflection. The rabbits in their burrows the bears in their caves, the dragons atop their mountains, and Timmy Tom in his warm hut of bright hopes.

Outside the wind sculps the snow into delicate drifts. Inside the young half Angel was curled in front of his little fireplace. He watched as the sparks flew, and danced above the logs.

The burning embers became tangles of birds in summer, trees swaying in the wind sand spouts in the far desert. Once Timmy saw the sparks become a ship. A sleek brigantine with great white sails emblazoned with moons, and shooting stars.

These fire visions, would sometimes move him to retrieve his most treasured possession. The music box. This beautifully carved, and enchanted instrument was from his Mother the Angel of the northern lights.

Carefully Timmy took his gift from its place on the cupboard, and set it before the hearth. He then sat down spreading wide his radiant red wings. Timmy lifted the lid turned the key and listened.

It was music like no other! If rose's could sing this would be their song. If honeydew melons could recite this would be their voice. If spring grass could chant this would be their prayer.

As the snow danced in the wind the half Angel sat before his glowing hearth, and listened to his mothers special gift, and watched as the embers created world, after world.

"Years of Absence Day of Return"

The other morning I had a vision, a momentary dream as I was waking up. In it I saw three Black children walking down a highway. An interstate somewhere in the American midwest.

It was as if I were floating just above them following along. There was a young boy maybe 12'n wearing a "Yankee's" cap, a little girl 9 with a "Hello Kitty" back pack, and a toddler maybe 3 or 4 wearing an old fashioned Amish style sun bonnet.

The boy was pulling a red wagon of the type common for kids to have in the 1940's, and 50's. I had one, an "American flyer" with white walls. In the wagon sat the baby, and various pieces of luggage.

A little American flag fluttered from the back as the wagon bounced along. That flag though. It was an odd sort of thing,..the stars were blue, and the stripes were different.


Now the children, they were cheerful'n good hearted. Laughing, and singing as they walked. The youngsters spoke a musical sounding language to each other. Very sweet'n gentle like.

Imagine old time Harlem hipsters speaking "Jive" in middle english.

The boy began to sing a bright rhythmic hymn, and the little girl walked by him doing old south gospel response, counter point. The baby was waving an eagle feather at the sky.

As I say these young folks was walk'n the highway, and headed for a town. Smokey Hill Kansas. It was just across the next bridge. Just another peaceful mid 21st century American town.

The morning traffic was starting to build. Though many cars had slowed their occupants staring in amazement at the children. The kids took no mind of them, they was used to gawkers by now, and continued on their way.

Still cars slowed, others stopped outright. All this for good reason. See these colored kids, these negro children was the first African Americans many had seen in decades. For some it was the 'first' they'd ever seen,..outside of old movies or picture books that is.

America, at least the "United States" part of it hadn't had any black folks since "The Day".

That Day.

It was maybe 40 years ago when all the Coloreds just up, and left. No one ever found out where too or why.

It was a particular Labor Day just after the desert war had ended. All the Negros, all the slave descended decided as one to leave. They left their houses, their cars, business's, lawn sprinklers, everything.

Well almost "everything."

They took their pets. Yes they did. They take them to wherever they went off to. All their dogs, cats, birds, gold fish, and hamsters. They didn't take no snakes though. Black folks don't like no snakes. That's a fact!

Anyway nearly 300 years of slavery, and another 100 or more of phony "freedom" would piss anybody off. So away the coloreds went. Nobody has seen any of 'em till today. Till these three children peacefully walking down Route 24.

Ya know this sort'a thing has happened before or so I hear.

Over there in Russia where they treat the Jews bad. There's stories of whole villages vanishing. When the Cossacks came for their monthly murder, rape, and robbery they found empty towns. No Jewish folks, not one.

I hear them Nazi's had the same "problem" sometimes.

But in this case seems 'some' tormented folks had decided to come back to visit the Earth. Some Coloreds have come back to America to find out if the folks here had learned anything while they was gone.

Some, just a few, just for now.

Years of Absence,..Day of return.

To be continued.

(Click on Norman Rockwell painting at top to see why the Negros may have left.)
______________________________________________________________________________________


Above is a story I was working on a while back. It's very loosely based on a play by Douglas Turner Ward "Day of Absence". An early 60's production about a southern town where all the Negros disappear for a day, and the chaos the results.

I try to imagine what would happen if they never came back.

Stay tuned.

"Uncle Sydney vs the Boy Scouts"

Well it was the early 1960's, and "Morning in America!" Jackie Kennedy was "jazz'n up" the White House'n try'n to give us a little class for christ's sakes. Dr. King, and other's was out there risking their lives for the soul of the nation. Because of that white folks was finally starting to feel a little ashamed of all them lynchings 'n stuff they let pass.

We was putting up the first satellites, and planning to go to the Moon! For those of you who wasn't there I got'a tell ya this country was serious shit in them daze!

Dig it,.. our folks had good jobs, gas was cheap, we had tv's, and was watch'n 'em till the cows came home! The schools worked, the trash was collected, Santa came every Christmas, and any work'n Joe could buy a house.

Shit! We had the H-frigg'n Bomb, and zillions of shiny new B-52's to deliver them! So nobody dared give us crap. Not only that, but polio was licked, and comic books was 10 cents.















Hey! Was that a "Golden Age" or what?!!

Well, in the middle of all that bright, and happy noise I decided I wanted to be a Boy Scout! 'Made sense given the times. I wanted to serve my country,..over easy with fries. It was "Camelot" big time back then, and I wanted to do my bit for "King'n Country!"

Also in my horny young mind I figured the scouts was just the place for a Queer kid, with Anarchist tendencies. I figured getting in would be no problem. After all I was real smart, sweet, and polite as hell!

I also had the "Blessed Virgin Mary", da frigg'n "Pope", my Mommy, and Robert Kennedy's Justice Department on my side.

How could I lose?

See I had gleeful visions of wearing one of them "Smokey the Bear" hats that scouts gets to have. Boy those things is neat! Better than cowboy hats anyday. I was dreaming of that, and all them badges, ribbons, medals, and assorted bright, and cheerful doodads they heaps on ya in the scouts for being a good kid.

'Course then there was the official "Boy Scouts of America!" hatchet, canteen, compass, handbook, and surplus national guard folding mini-shovel dancing like sugar plums over my innocent, and curly head!

Eh,..to say nuthin' about them cute scout short pants, and knee sox. Well okay that was a later "fetish",..but still ya gets the idea.















Let me tell you of my innocent boyish scouting visions,...

I saw me, and my new scout pal's out in the wilds of New Jersey,..tracking down mountain lions, digging up "Spanish Gold!", building tree house's, and sighting UFO's.

We'd also be hot on the trail of "Atomic Spies", rescuing catz, exploring mysterious caves, and making friends with da Indians.

We'd be tying all sorts of knots, and painting ourselves up like "Souix Warriors". We would eat wild berries, shit in the woods, wipe our butts with leaves. The lot of us would go running on all fours, and howl at the moon like wolves!

To relax we'd go skinny dipping, have kissing contests, circle jerks, blow things up, and build model airplanes!

At night under the stars we'd sing do-wop songs, cook foot long koshur hot dogs over a roaring camp fire, and tell scary stories about deranged communist robots from Venus invading Nebraska.

At bed time we'd set up surplus air force parachutes, and use them as our communal tents. We'd all recite our prayers, kiss each other good night, cuddle up like puppies, and slip into the gentle arms of Elysium. Perhaps some few might stay awake to chase fireflies or sing songs to each other.













Oh, such a sweet, and innocent vision.

Unfortunately 'none' of this swell shit went down. What did happen was...

My Mom: "What did you say?!"

Scoutmaster: "Eh,..I'm sorry Mrs. Smith, but it's just policy". "There's nothing I can do about it"

"This troop doesn't admit Coloreds".

My Mom: "But my son goes to this school which is integrated". "Your troop is part of this school"

Scoutmaster: "Technically yes, but the board has the final say in these matters".
"As I said I'm sorry we can't admit your son into our program."

My Mom was gonna slug this jerk, but didn't. He seemed, (at least to her,..so she said). This american apartheid apparachick seemed ashamed of having to do this foul shit.

I'd have slugged him anyway, and maybe burned the school down too. Anyhow the "I'm just following orders" drone went on to tell my Mom of another troop that was willing to take a 'few' negro boys.











...Swell.

That bunch was a long bus ride away from where we lived so "thanks", but "no thanks!" Adolf. So with my scouting life receding in the rear view mirror I made do.

From then on I was looked after by the crazy old ladies at the Brooklyn Community Center. They were a bunch of very nice old Jewish ladies, and they taught me all sorts of stuff.

Mrs. Gold who's husband had fought in Spain against the Fascists showed me how to make cupcakes. She also taught me that white people weren't all full of shit.

Thank you Mrs. Gold.

If it wasn't for you I'd probably be a *fearful closet case in the Nation of Islam or one'a them other race nut groups.

*(..it's rumored the "Nation" kills any gays they find in their ranks.)

Getting back to what my Mom went though. I have to say I didn't know about any of this. Instead my Mommy told me this whole concocted story about their being no room in local scout troop that season.

'Made sense too. You have to remember it was the early 60's. The height of the "Baby Boom" era.

There were zillions of us kids all over the place. Hell, we was "climb'n in through da gawd damned windows!",..to quote Holden Caufield.

So yeah I bought it.

Next year I asked again, same story. The year after that I didn't ask. I had other problems. 'Like slamming face first into my "wonderful" teen years.


Well the seasons passed,..imagine the pages flying off a calender or hour glass's going nuts like in them old black'n white movies. Well with one thing, and another I found myself a young man.

Eh, perhaps I should put that another way. Never mind, look it was 1976 the Bi-Centennial year.

We'd just lost the Viet-Nam War, there were mile long lines for petrol, the economy was in the toilet. Ford Pinto's were spontaneously combusting on our highways. The latter because it was cheaper to pay off the families than fix the problem.

...rot in hell Henry Ford.

We'd stopped going to the moon, or anywhere else for that matter. People thought "platform shoes" were cool, and the first rumblings of the Drug War, and AIDS were being heard. Oh yeah, and lime green was 'in'.

...the 1970's.


America was 200 years old,...for the first time!



Well "lime green" or not you only get one "Bi-Centennial" to a country. So we celebrated. It was our 200th national birthday, and I had gone home to visit my folks.

'Back then I was living way out west.

'Stuff happened. I saw interesting, terrible, and wonderful things out there. The west is truly another country. New York is like Idaho like Moscow is like Lisbon.

...and about the same distance too.

I never told anyone about them strange, scary, wonderful days. Not my family, not my pals, not my radio audience, not you. ...one day maybe.

But back to this particular story.

I was home sitting in the parlor watching the parades, and mayhem with my Mom on her color tv. Her first. Aw gee. I remember when I first saw color tv. Heck even the commercial looked good. Anyway as we watched there were these guys dressed in civil war uniforms re-enacting some battle.

After that six-gun tote'n cowboys showed up, and shot at each other for a while. Then some white guys came on dressed as Indians, and did some sort of phony native dance. There was a float with some actors pretending to be astronauts on the moon we no longer went to.

Next some old farts in funny hats driving "Model T's" chugged along. This was followed by a mess of high school "ROTC" drill teams goose stepping down 5th avenue like the Hitler Youth. They was flip'n their M-1 carbines all over the place, and not one was dropped!

Next a bunch'a folks rolled by dressed like pilgrims. They was drink'n Cokes on a flatbed pulled by oxen. Some "Rough Ryders' on horseback shot at some Cubans, and all this followed by poor slobs in hot dog suits shoveling up after them.

Yep! That's "America" okay. '..recognize her anywhere.

Well, after a while on comes the Boy Scouts,..hundreds of 'em! They was wearing their "Smokey the Bear" hats too! Wow them boys was have'n a great time marching, and horse'n around with each other.

I mention to my Mother it was too bad about all that "over crowding" when I was a kid. I told her how I 'really, really' wanted to be a scout.

My Mommy gets quiet, she looks at me, and tells me the whole story..., all of it.

Like I said, parents, the good ones protects their kids. Protects their Innocence as long as they can.

Many many seasons later. Long after my Mommy had gone to Heaven. I got a call from my sister. She said her son, my youngest nephew had been called "nigger" at school that day. He was still crying,..so was my sister. "..it begins I thought".

"Let your children enjoy their Innocence for as long as possible". But when the demons finally do breech your walls of love, and protection. Make them ready. Make them strong. Teach them to face the fire,..and Survive.

'But teach them to Love, and Forgive as well.

Amen.


Epiloge,









I still want one of them "Smokey the Bear" Scout hats,...I really do.
_______________________________________________________________________________

"Be a Good Scout!"

"Heaven on Earth"

G-d is not far away in some golden heaven, ruling some distant Paradise. G-d is here with us. Always has been. Always will be. Because G-d's Heaven is on Earth.

"Heaven on Earth"

G-d's on the subway, She's coming home from work. It's crowded she couldn't get a seat again. She has a headache, and her feet are killing her. G-d makes another mental note to do something about urban congestion, and stress.

She's been noticing this problem since "Ur", or was it Babylon? Anyway it was that time she was a snake charmer. Ah,..the carnivals, the music, the theatre. These are just about the best things humanity has come up with. It's among the reasons she loves them so much.

It's their "saving grace",...literally.

The train pulls into G-d's station. She has to struggle her way out of the crowded car. No one will get out of her way. Manners, and polite consideration still haven't caught on. At least not consistently. Still, they are learning, her children. They are trying. G-d joins the wave of tired people coming home from work or school or mischief, and they accend together out of the tunnel.

On her way home G-d does some lite shopping at Her favorite deli. She picks up a pint of vanilla ice cream,..with almonds. Some oranges, a box of mint tea. You know, the brand with all the nice pictures on 'em. Some bread sticks, and dried figs. All the major food groups.

G-d browse's Her way to the counter, and pays for the goods in Aztec jade, Roman silver, and Confederate bank notes. The Jamaican family that owns, and runs the deli are used to their 'special' customer paying in odd currencies.

The dreadlocked woman behind the register gives G-d her change in Barbados dollars, American dimes, and Australian pennies.

The two are friends, the clerk, and G-d.

So they stand awhile exchanging gossip, and other pleasantries which are cut short by the needs of the other customers. G-d adds a lotto ticket, and some chapstick to her purchase's.

Outside the deli G-d sees a homeless man begging for change.

G-d knows him, his name is Thomas. G-d remembered when he was conceived. She was there when he was born, and She's been with him ever since. Though Thomas doesn't remember it 'once upon a time' his name was Bartholomew, and he is an Angel.

One day he'll remember that, but for now G-d smiled at him, and put a silver shekle once earned by a certain Judean carpenter into his cup.

G-d blinked, and there was Light. G-d sang, and there was Life. G-d smiled, and there was Love.

The "Lord of Hosts" got to her building. She lived on the top floor of a six story walk up. G-d liked living up there because it was convenient to the roof. In summer, and spring if it wasn't raining she'd spread a blanket, and lay there.

She'd lay on her blanket, and watch Her sky, Her clouds, and at night Her moon, and Her stars. How she loved them,..as she did all Her children.

G-d quickly walked up the stairwell concerned that her ice cream might melt. As She went She passed through, and enjoyed the aroma's of the cooking of half a dozen ethnic groups. Her neighbors were preparing, and settling down for their evening meals.

The "Divine" enjoyed not only that, but the music the symphony of all their languages, and emotions. Well, G-d finally got to Her apartment,..6-B. She put Her key into her triple "Medico" lock, and entered.

Cain, and Able her Persian cats we're waiting for her, and meowing indignatly! It was well past their dinner time, and they were more than slightly annoyed.

Cain, and Able didn't care if She was G-d,..'they' were cats, and they were hungry.
__________________________________________


"LISTENING"

The G-d of Abraham, the Lord of Ghandi, the Mother Creator of all that was is or will be was on the roof of Her apartment. She was sitting in a lawn chair,..listening. It was well past midnight, and it was snowing. The sharp winter winds blew around her.

G-d was looking out over the city, and listening to prayers. The "Lord Creator" listened to prayers the way people listened to the radio. The music of souls was in the air. The sky was bathed in prayer. They danced over the city like bright aurora's.

G-d watched, and listened. She listened to each, and every one.
__________________________________________


"REVELATION"

The "Lord of Creation" was on a downtown bus, She was headed to a dentists appointment. Some of Her fillings were loose. G-d was seated on one of those hard plastic bench's toward the back, and was looking out the window.

The ebb, and flow of the traffic reminded Her of the starting, and sudden stop of schools of fish. The "Lord" couldn't help, but beam,..She smiled despite the bad fillings. For She loved all of Her children so...,from the smallest creatures on the bottom of the sea to the bus driver that was battling the traffic.

G-d turned, and looked around the bus. She saw that almost all the tribes of humanity were here. Yes, New York, Constantinople, Babylon how they gathered the family together. She enjoyed her time in all of them.

The children of Eve. Here they were on this downtown bus. There was a Russian plumber filling out a lotto ticket. A young African school girl telling secrets to her best friend. A Korean house painter idly cleaning plaster from under his finger nails. There at the side were two Mexican women in animated conversation about the new bookstore they were going to open.

And,.. an old woman, a woman who had lived most of her life in rural China. She was staring. Staring at "Her",..G-d. The woman looked from behind dark crinkled lids with clear brown eyes. Eyes that held recognition.

"I see You."

Eyes that beheld "G-d Almighty" on a bouncing downtown bus on an unremarkable day.

This didn't happen often, being seen, being "recognized." When it did it was usually small children or the dying. Those closest to transition, either entering or leaving this life. 'Children, the Dying' This woman that saw Her,..saw G-d was neither.

Her name was Violet. This woman who could see,..who could behold the "Creator of the Heavens, and the Earth.

When she was very young Violet was a soldier. She saw much suffering, terrible grief. Then later she loved, became a mother. Then a student, then a healer.

Violet spent most of her life as an herbalist. She learned how the Earth itself was a life giving organism. She used her knowledge of this to cure illness, assist childbirth, and ease death.

G-d, and Violet just sat, and beheld each other as New York blared, and blinked around them. Till at last Violet asked G-d, asked in a calm voice,.."Are you sure you know what you're doing?"

"Almighty G-d" She who laid the foundations of Worlds, looked at Violet with just a touch of a gentle smile on her lips, and said,.."Yes."

Violet thought about G-d's answer as the bus waited for a stream of police cars, and fire engines, their sirens screaming, to pass. In a few minutes they were moving again. The bus eventually pulled up to Union Square the Violet's stop.

She got up to leave, but turned at the last moment, and asked G-d,.."Are you happy?" The "Maker of All Things" thought a moment, and said,.."We'll speak again in your dreams." The woman nodded, and went on her way.

That night her mouth still numb from the novacaine. G-d thought about Violets last question. "Am I happy?" How wise Her children were. Happiness was the whole point of creation.

Happiness, joy, fulfilment, the Lord smiled. "Oprah is closer to the 'Truth' than she knows", but still, is the Creator happy?

Cain, and Able God's cats meowed loudly. They were demanding attention, 'and' their dinner. A better brand of kitty litter would be nice too.

She who painted the void with fire, and hope knelt on her kitchen floor. The Founder of Dreams fed her dear companions. She looked out of her window, and saw that the night sky danced again with bright aurora's of prayers.

She will listen. Yes G-d will listen again to the Dreams, and Nightmares of Her children. G-d who made the stars shine, and galaxies spin will listen to the prayers of the world. Though tonight she will pray too.

Tonight God will Pray 'with' Her Children.

Amen.
__________________________________________



"HEAVEN ON EARTH"

Epilogue,

G-d is not far away in some golden heaven, ruling some distant Paradise. G-d is here with us. Always has been. Always will be. Because G-d's Heaven is on Earth.


The blue, and fruitful world continued to sail around it's golden sun. Life went on with all it's joys, sorrows, and mysteries. The years gathered into centuries. The centuries into millenia, and the millenia into ages. Ages that melted mountains, lowered, and raised seas, and rearranged the stars.

In this time all life was in the sea, as it was in the beginning. Humanity had long since transcended to their bright realities. Oh! How that pleased G-d! She was still with them, and loved them in their new realms.

Though She'd followed her children as they scattered themselves amongst the stars. She still remembered, and abided on the earth. Now She dwelled in the seas with her newer children. This as the land rested, and healed from it's long work.

G-d, the maker of Worlds, the founder of Dreams swam in clouds of plankton. She manuvered amongst schools of fish, burrowed with worms, swayed with sea weed, 'and' Contemplated with Whales. Whales..,and the others of their kind were the next of Her children who would find their way to the stars.

She would learn with them, wonder with them, pray with them till at last they too found their bright place in eternity. She would do this for them as She had for all of Her children on all of the Earths.

With Patients She would Watch.

With Patients She would Guide.

With Patients She would Love.

Amen.
____________________________________________

I wrote this a long time ago. Perhaps it needs a rewrite, but I'll leave it alone. It sez what it sez, and I'm glad I found it again. Well I did delete a few chapters, but no real loss.

Hope you liked it.

"Hot Chrome II"

I've been thinking. What if children are right. What if we 'can' be anything we want. What if our rigid notions of reality are not what it seems to be.

My g-d what if we 'can' be anything we imagine!"

I have an idea for a subversive kid's book. I t would revolve around being, and becoming. What would you be...I mean really. The mind boggles.

Me well damn,...perhaps I'd be a 1958 Buick Land cruiser with extra chrome, and one of them insane overblown V-8 gas guzzlers under my hood!

I'd be flying down Route 66 at 120 mph! This on a fine summer's day in 1959 when gas was cheap, and the whole world could kiss our ass! 

We had a zillion H-Bombs, and scads of brand new shiny B-52's to shove them up anybody's butt that gave us a hard time! The world was ours, and we was holding on with both hands!

Fuck'em if they can't take a joke!

Anyways as I say I'm flaming through the American wasteland burning gas, and shooting co2 out'a my tail...man this is living. 

"Little Richard" is blasting out my custom Hi-Fi speakers, and I'm being driven by a couple of Queer teenaged Mexican high school dropouts!  These deranged horny sweethearts have just stolen me from a racist part time IRS clerk, and Klansman.

My new owners my hero's are laughing their heads off smoking dope breaking laws, and living the life.  These Tex/Mex mulatto teen Queers is wearing black motorcycle boots dirty white t-shirts with a pack of Camels rolled up in the sleeve.

The wind is singing through their slicked ducktails, and they're flicking butt's out of my windows. The kids is laffing their heads off about that Kluxer they left behind. The chuckle head they "borrowed" me from.

Yeah they did some rough trade bondage with'em.  

The damned Kluxer painted himself in blackface begged for, and got some hogtied grease-less back door action from his teen Masters. ...while they're wearing Klan hoods.

...hey it takes all kinds.

What he didn't bargain for though was being carried out to the lawn, and tied to a tree.

Yep nekkid  hogtied in black face robbed, and his secret stash of big titty black porn spread all around him for his wife minister, and Kluxer pals to find. He will not have a nice day.

A rough kind of justice that.

Me, and my new "owners" are on our way to Vegas to cut a "Do-Wop" 45, and generally raise holy bleeping Hell in the U.S. occupied Mexican northern states of Nevada New Mexico, and Arizona!

Well okay this story might be a tough sell to that stuck up tight assed kid's book market,...fuck'em. I'm giving the kiddies what they really want. Mad dreams fantasies, and good kleen sticky fun.

You get's my point though right.

This is radical stuff, and just what them kids need to live in this blood splattered madhouse of a world. We can be anything we can become unstuck from reality. Dammit we can dream, and make our own damned reality!

What can be more liberating, and dangerous than that?!

Hell come to think of it this book would really be for the parents since kids know all this stuff already.

Stay tuned. 


(This happy trail is a re-write of a little story I did some years ago. Some longtime fans might recognize bits of it. Been going through my slush pile, and this one popped out,...soooo.)

"The Worst Candy In History"

Not since "New Coke" has the junk food empire got it so wrong. The pretzel M&M's taste, and look, on the inside, like sawdust candy. Some comrades, and I had the misfortune of consuming this crap.

One is left with the dry taste of powdered wood chips, industrial glue, unconvincing flavorings, and a minor headache after eating this swell stuff.

The mafia vending machine company stuffed our junk food dispenser with tons of this roach motel fodder. That along with various brands of embalmed cookies.

Alright this mutation won't kill ya, probably, but it sure ain't the refreshing sugar rush you were looking for.

It's projected to be among the 10 'worst' Halloween candies for 2010. (...not counting the traditional apples embedded with razor sharp metal bits, candied meats, and Canadian pennies.)

These maniacs must have made billions of metric tons of this awful stuff, and intend to unload the lot on an unsuspecting public.

Beware you out in the world,..it's coming. Be afraid, be very afraid.

(Even their cute official spokes-digitoons have doubts about this evil marriage of unlikely ingredients.)

"Looking for Fezziwig’s"

Fezziwig, old Fezziwig was the good hearted shop keeper that young Ebenezer Scrooge was apprenticed to in the Charles Dickens classic "A Christmas Carol".


In that story the character Fezziwig kept Christmas with a gleeful merry making that he, and his family shared with their employees, and indeed the world.

Christmas eve at Fezziwig‘s shop was a fine display of bright decorations, music, dancing, games, and boisterous laughter.

Oh, but the food!

Long tables were weighted down with all manner of tasty morsels. There were pies, cakes, hot breads, roasts, and cider!

Most of all, most wonderful of all is what Fezziwig gave of his soul. Loving kindness, warm fellowship, and an intuitive understanding of the true meaning of the day.

Christmas Day.

As Charles Dickens says through the character of Scrooge’s nephew Fred.

"Christmas is a time of generosity. A kind, and forgiving day. A day when men, and women from all circumstances open their shut-up hearts to the world."

‘And so it was true of Mr. Fezziwig. Silly, dear old Fezziwig, and his family, and apprentices. They were happy to be in each other’s company, and truly rejoiced in the day. Christmas Day.

The Fezziwig parable from the story of Scrooges redemption, "A Christmas Carol" is very special to me. Special because it touches upon a need I have. That perhaps a great many have. You see I’ve been searching for Fezziwig's for many years.

I’ve been looking for that humble shop so filled with joy for most of my life. A place of heartfullness, and acceptance I so far I can only dream of.

Since I was very young, since I was a lad I’ve always felt outside, far from the hearth, beyond the window, outside of the door, locked out at the gate. Always outside looking in, and hoping to be noticed.

Through these many years I’ve searched for a tribe, a nation, a faith to belong to. To be enfolded into, and kept, and loved, and needed. I longed to be in a place where you could taste the love in every giving, and receiving.

I had hoped I would one day stumble upon such a miracle.

On many a Christmas Eve I wandered the streets of this vast Emerald City. This busy place of towers, lights, and noise. Through the neon canyons I looked for a very particular kind of magic. I have yet to be blessed with it’s discovery, but I do not despair. Because despite it all I still believe. I still have a kind of faith.

I Believe in Dreams.

I Believe in Holy Magic.

...but most of all I believe in the power of Good. The power of Loving Kindness. Yes even in a world as dark, and uncaring as this.

So I know,...I Know. One Christmas Eve yet to come I will walk down an unremarkable street with unseen Angels at my side. I will walk down a narrow snowy street, and at last find a small humble shop. A shop with wide, open, and inviting doors, warm golden lights, music, bright laughter, joyful songs,...and best of all welcoming smiles.

I will have at long last found my Christmas.

Merry Christmas !

(I wrote this some years ago. I'm still looking, and I still have Faith.)

"The Secret Lives of Cartoon Characters"

This happy story is from my never to be published book "The Secret History of Everything". This is one of the chapters on the world of Toons. That immortal race of beings that hides in plain sight.

Our tale so to speak describes the origins of out dear pal Daffy Duck.

Daffy Duck was born or should I say hatched on May 12, 1923. His original destiny was to be guest of honor in a boxed lunch at an annual convention of vacuum cleaner salesmen. However history had other plans for this unique foul.

Daffy's formative years were spent in the cosmopolitan atmosphere of a Harlem oriental noodle shop. This informed him that there was a better world outside the oppressive confines of an American race ghetto.

The blossoming Harlem Renaissance was a cornucopia of wonders for the young Daffy. Naturally this led him to the stage. Daffy Duck performed publicly for the first time at the famed Apollo Theater on amateur night.

He charmed the audience with his kid act. He juggled broken beer bottles while swallowing watermelons. He'd then squat, and lay them while doing the Charleston. True he was a male, but to the audience a duck was a duck.

Anyway it brought the house down.

..hey keep reading it gets better.

Josephine Baker was so impressed by his act that she took him along on her tour of France. "My little Black Duckie" she called him. Josephine while making the rounds of the jazz clubs in the City of Light would introduce Daffy as her nephew.

The sophisticated Parisians didn't blink at this. They took it to be just another bizarre American custom.

Daffy while doing his act at the Cafe 'Celluloid was noticed by a famous American producer. Yep it was the old proto nazi himself,..Walt Disney.

He was seated at a private table with his protégé a young black mouse named Mickey. Walt liked them young, and dark. Also at the table was a very well dressed German gentleman named Goebbels.

After Daffy's performance in which he played Beethoven on a grand piano while juggling several large bottles of nitroglycerin with his butt. He was invited over to Mr. Disney's table for a chat.

Disney who was sipping owls head soup from a Ming Dynasty bowl seemed a pleasant affable sort of fellow. On the other hand his little companion, the mouse, was obnoxious. Indeed he was more than a little vulgar.

The disheveled rodent kept passing wind, giggling, and putting a strange white powder in his nose. The German gentleman just sat there stiffly staring at nothing while slowly sipping calf's blood through a polished platinum straw.

Daffy now a worldly duck quickly sized up the scam. He'd been to a number of parties like this already. Before Mr. Disney could say anything Daffy told him, "..I don't take it up the ass!"

The German's left eye twitched.

The little mouse began laughing like a hissing like a steam pipe. He was also masturbating spilling all the white powder onto the floor as he did.


Walt Disney turned to the crazed rodent, and in a lazy tone said, "Aw Mickey now look what you've done."

"How many times have I told you that stuff is expensive. Now Doctor Goebbels will have to get us more."

Walt confided in Daffy, "You'll have to excuse my young friend."

"He is after all a mouse, and so has a rather limited intellectual, and emotional repertoire."

However as for 'your' lovely black ass please be reassured that back door grease jobs are not something I'm likely to be doing for quite some time."

"Or so my doctors tell me."

"Seems I acquired a rather unfortunate condition while on holiday in the Philippines."

"No, I have something entirely different in mind for you."

Besides his interesting lifestyle Walt Disney was a businessman. One without an once of sentiment so he made Daffy an ironclad offer!

Of course Walt was aware of Daffy. The Toon grapevine was buzzing with his name since his Apollo days. Everyone knew this was a duck to watch, and watch the shark of Hollywood did. Disney had his operatives secretly film all of Daffy's acts.

Walt especially liked the self-immolation routines.

Daffy would blow himself up with a barrel of dynamite. As the smoke cleared his blackened bill would slam to the floor as his eyeballs bounced about the stage,...brilliant thought Disney!

Walt said to Daffy, "I intend to use you, and your colorful Toon colleagues to mold the dreams of America, and then the World!"

Mr. Disney pointed to the German gentleman who seemed to be injecting something into his arm. "Doctor Goebbels here has been invaluable to me in forming the foundations of what I intend to be an Empire of Dreams!"

"My Dreams!"

Clearly this is a gang of fruitcakes thought Daffy,..rich fruitcakes. So Daffy asked a question. A question that has led many a Toon down the road to perdition.

"How much?"

Ahhhh, old Disney smiled like a shark circling an overturned lifeboat full of children.

"How much?" "...why as much as you want my dear lad,..sign here."

...and he did.

Thus began Daffy Duck's adventures in Toon Hell!

"We're Here to Stay"

We're an interesting species. We can dream Heaven, and Hell then bring either or both into physical existence.

What's that if not a kind of Magic.

We can live, not just live, but prosper in everything from sub-zero to 120f degree climates. We're a hardy, and persistent bunch.  Just like the  dinosaurs before us.

Climate Change?

Desertification shrinking glaciers famines wars over fresh water pole shift ocean rise. You kidding this is nuthin' total bullshit.

The multiverse ain't getting rid of us that easy.

Bleep that. 

Get used to us we're here for the long term.

The 'real' long term. 

Amen.

"Queen Marilyn the Good"

"Queen Marilyn the Good"

I dream of a different America. Another timeline. An American Commonwealth ruled by a wise brave, and compassionate Queen.

"Queen Marilyn Norma Jeane Monroe the First"

In this 'other' America the capital is in Miami. A sparkling art deco city with a half mile high Chrysler Building at it's center. In this other USA I see the Queen coming home from her diplomatic triumph in China.

Queen Marilyn personally negotiated the independence of Tibet!

She arrives home aboard a vintage Pan Am China Clipper flying boat. In this other history good things beautiful things are not discarded just because of newer technologies.

The giant Clippers were, and are both beautiful, and efficient so are kept.

The greatly beloved Queen is greeted at the Royal airdrome by plumed mounted knights in armor of gold. The Royal Procession is headed by the Queen at the wheel of a 1957 pearl white Thunderbird.

As they proceeded to the jade, and silver gilded "Palace of the People" the procession is thronged by the adoring masses. They sing songs of Freedom, and Liberty as their Queen slowly drives past.

In the setting tropical sun the knights seem as a river of molten gold streaming down the Avenue of Dreams.

The crowd in their regional native dress appear as extras from a classic "Carmen Miranda" movie.

Later that night from the balcony of the Peoples Palace Good Queen Marilyn declared a fortnight of Masks, and Reveals to both celebrate Freedom for Tibet, and the great bounty of the National Harvest!

"LONG LIVE QUEEN MARILYN!"

Hurrah! Hurrah! Hurrah!

"AUNT JOSEY"

"Once upon a time", long ago when milk was delivered in bottles, and Sputnik was a new moon. I used to spend part of my summers with my Aunt Josey. My "Aunt" or I should say my Grand Aunt Josey, 'cause she was my Grandma's sister, had a little house far out in the country. She was a sweet, sweet person made of equal parts of kindness, and patients..

She was the one that taught me that there's good in everyone no matter how they may seem on the outside. She also was the one that told me that animals, all the animals have souls, and go to heaven. No matter what they say in church.

I loved my Aunt Josey.

I remember one time we were up late, very late playing Chinese checkers, and listening to old records on her Victrola. Yeah she had a classic "Victrola" record player, this was before she got her TV. Well we were doing all that, and keeping each other company.

An aside,..my Aunt Josey could crack walnuts with just three fingers. She'd use her thumb, and two other fingers, and crack! When she made pancakes she could make'em flip three times in the air! She could read palms too.

Now that I think about it she used to like reading my palms. She gently held my hand closely examining my various "life lines." It would be as if she were reading some strange book that told of all the weird stuff that was in store for me.

She'd look at my palm, then look at me, look at my palm again, and take a breath. All as if to say,.."Boy have you got a life on the way!" Fortunately I was young innocent, and full of grace. My cynical side still slept. So all I did was giggle as Aunt Josey's fingers tickled me as she traced the lines of my strange life to come.

Btw, she could read tea leaves too.

 She came from a world, an era where the acknowledgement of other realities, other realms of being were taken for granted. This decades before Ram Dass, or Oprah.

But to the story.

As I said it was late, very late. After we'd put the games, and records away my Aunt Josey took me by the hand, and led me through the kitchen, and out to the backyard.

The night was warm, and sweet smelling. There was a nice breeze, and a sky full of stars! Fireflies, lightning bugs bobbed, and blinked above the grass.

There was a stillness, a quietness that covered everything. Like snow,..summer snow. Aunt Josey, and I sat on the back porch, and enjoyed that magical night,..so many years ago. After a time she looked down at me, and said, "Sidney,..everyone in the world is asleep except for you, and me."

I looked up at her, she smiled.

"Yes", she said, "Their all asleep." "We're the only ones in the whole wide world looking at the stars, feeling the wind or talking to each other."

"All of the animals, all the birds, all the fish underneath the sea, and all the people even your Mommy, and Daddy are asleep, and dreaming now.

Holding me close, and looking up at the stars Aunt Josey said, "We're the last ones, the last ones in the whole wide world,..that are still awake."

The moon, the bright orange summer moon was large very large in the sky.

"You see", my Aunt Josey said,.."See." "The moon has come close to kiss the world good night." "The whole sleeping world." "It's come to kiss us good night too."

The moon, the smiling "man in the moon" filled our sky, and told us it was time to rest, time to sleep. Aunt Josey picked me up, and took me to my room. She tucked me into bed, and helped me say my prayers. She kissed me good night, and went off to her own room.

In a little while, in a very little while both she, and I joined the sleeping, dreaming world.

Amen.

"Prayer"

All the world prays.

Whenever where-ever for whatever. 

The prayers ascend through clouds past worlds even stars.

Till they fall. 

They fall onto an abandoned side street.

There's an old phone booth there.

Slightly bent over from where a truck backed into it.

The phone is ringing.

These are prayers.

The rings.

Millions of them. ...Billions.

Ringing. 

Unanswered. 

Forever.

Amen.

"The Easter Bunny Laid Off"

"The Easter Bunny Laid Off"

The "Federal Department of Fantasies, and Fictitious Characters" today in what will sure to be seen as a controversial move has laid off a number of it's employees. This is a cost cutting act which the administration was forced to take.

This because of the refusal by the Republican controlled House to pass the funding bill for the Fantasy Department.

Republican majority leader Himmler stated that funds for the department of fantasies was a "typical liberal waste of funds". Also that these resources were needed for far more "practical, and necessary projects" such as the "Mexican Wall".

The Easter Bunny the Sandman Tooth Fairy Batman the former Saint Christopher the Little Prince Peter Rabbit Santa's Elves, and a number of other beloved fictional characters were all contacted by email, and let go.

Santa, and Wonder Woman because of their importance to the democratic base were given temporary reprieves until fiscal 2018. Superman because of his connections with the Defense Department is for now exempt from these economic cuts.

Some because of high profiles such as Batman have already been hired by commercial interests. Others such as the Little Prince, and Peter Rabbit with smaller financial probabilities will likely retire, and enter private life.

Though there is the possibility of a small livelihood for a few magical characters through speaking engagements.

More on this story as developments warrant.

Stay tuned.

This just in. 

The Little Prince representing a number of the Fantasy Department's newly laid off is suing Republican majority leader Himmler. Saying that his acts, and that of his party are Un-Constitutional. This in that it violates the 1964 Civil Rights Act. 

Which now also protects fictional characters. In particularly those employed by the Federal Government. This some see as the true reason the Republicans are stone-walling Obama on his right to nominate a new Justice. Basically the undoing of 50 years of progressive legislation.

...Stay Tuned for more.