Far be it from me to moan and complain about the Universe…. I wasn’t around to consult when it was slapped together (Six, seven days? Really? I’d suspect shoddy workmanship for a job of that size so rushed, regardless of the contractor’s reputation….), or happened randomly, or belched from the belly of a Great Turtle, or whatever, so I have no basis for complaint. But, I’ve got to say, and I know I’m not being original when I do, this getting old shit really sucks big time…. I won’t bore you with my own particular litany of aches, pains, and embarrassing body function stories…. suffice it to say that it all adds up after a while, and let’s one know…. this SUCKS!
There…. just had to get that out….. and a happy good morning to you! As indicated in the first paragraph, my being able to say that, at all, was very nearly compromised by the way I feel physically this morning. So, let us be particularly happy in response to that, for if nothing else, pain lets you know you are alive, and that is certain. Sure, I could lay around, stiff and aching, dose myself with a couple of extra pain pills, and generally feel like 67 inches of piled up….. well, you know.
Instead, here I am, fingers affixed to the keyboard (which is showing a bit of wear after these past 12 months of severe daily use…. can’t see all of the A, S, E, or J keys, as the letters have rubbed off….), ignoring the tingling and spasming under my scapula, and waiting (with growing impatience….) for my Muse to get up. Damn fool was out again last night, partying, without me, and doesn’t want to roll out & get to work. Let’s all give him/her (I’m never sure about immortals, they could be messing with my head) a big, loud, Awww, poor baby!, shall we?….. Okay, maybe not….
Let’s go Pearl, instead, okay?….. Okay!….
One of the bloggers I am now following commented yesterday, in response to a post by a sex trade survivor that was re-blogged on this site, and in the comment recommended a Young Adult novel on the subject, called “SOLD”. She couldn’t remember the author’s name, but Google found it first try, as usual, so I am including below part of a Wikipedia article on the book. I intend to check it out at my first opportunity, and hope that many more folks will follow that example. A link to the article is included below:
“To see what is right and not to do it is cowardice.” — Cervantes
“Sold” is a novel by Patricia McCormick, published in 2006. It tells the story of a girl from Nepal named Lakshmi, who is sold into sexual slavery in India. The novel is written in a series of short, vignette-style chapters, from the point of view of the main character.
Lakshmi is a thirteen-year-old girl who lives with her family in a small hut in the mountains of Nepal. Her family is desperately poor, but her life is full of simple pleasures, like raising her black-and-white speckled goat, and having her mother brush her hair by the light of an oil lamp. But when the harsh Himalayan monsoons wash away all that remains of the family’s crops, Lakshmi’s stepfather says she must leave home and take a job to support her family.
He introduces her to a glamorous stranger who tells her she will find her a job as a maid working for a wealthy woman in the city. Glad to be able to help, Lakshmi undertakes the long journey to India and arrives at “Happiness House” full of hope. But she soon learns the unthinkable truth: she has been sold into prostitution. Main characters include “An old woman named Mumtaz rules the brothel with cruelty and cunning. She tells Lakshmi that she is trapped there until she can pay off her family’s debt – then cheats Lakshmi of her meager earnings so that she can never leave.” Lakshmi’s life becomes a nightmare from which she cannot escape. Still, she lives by her mother’s words – “Simply to endure is to triumph” – and gradually, she forms friendships with the other girls that enable her to survive in this terrifying new world. — from Wikipedia.
Ms. McCormick spent some years interviewing women and girls in India, when she was able to get them to agree to talk to her, in spite of their fear of being used by someone they didn’t know or trust, a fear that is sadly common in sex slaves, no matter in which part of the world they are held enslaved.
“Although it is tempting to resent disaster, there is not much use in doing so… Whether we remain ash or become the phoenix is up to us.” — Deng Ming-Dao
(In the case of abducted sex trade workers, who have absolutely no choice to be where they are, this seems a bit tactless; however, the ending thought remains true for all that….)
“Think not forever of yourselves, O Chiefs, nor of your own generation. Think of continuing generations of our families, think of our grandchildren and of those yet unborn, whose faces are coming from beneath the ground.” — Peacemaker, founder of the Iroquois Confederacy, (ca. 1000 AD)
Things around here, (here being defined as my head, as well as the space it inhabits, and, by extension, this blog…) have been a mite serious lately. Some heavy stuff being considered, and shared. Some might be tempted to say, “finally!”. Others, more observant, might say, “Oh, I hadn’t noticed it got more serious….” And most would say, “Huh?” For the last group, I can only say, PAY ATTENTION, PLEASE!
But no matter what anyone says, “I” feel that way, so I thought I’d take just a moment to consider the above, which, if no less serious in its intent, or its depth of insight, is much more comforting a thought for examination and/or meditation. In that light, seriousness assumes the welcome aspect of a heart with wings…. just enjoy it, and take it with you when you go about the rest of your day….. I will, because it feels good in the spirit pouch that sits under my shirt, next to my heart…..
“Today’s public figures can no longer write their own speeches or books, and there is some evidence that they can’t read them either.” — Gore Vidal
It’s been a while since I ranted, or even commented, on the antics of our beloved ruling class, and the media circus that travels around with the crop of candidates hoping to attain center stage in the November Frenzy later this year. I’ve been distracted from that, (thank goodness!….) by other, even more important matters. Stop human trafficking or Laugh at Bozos…. Hmm, not a tough choice for me, though tempting, for sure…. the second is MUCH easier to write about, and the evidence one requires for bounteous hilarity is provided on a daily basis by the cast themselves. It’s really hard NOT to write one of my beloved rants on a daily basis, because it’s always a joy to work with such fertile material for humor.
Hence this brief foray into that hole of darkness, which around here (see above) we like to call, “Kokopelli’s Revenge, Part Four.”
(Side note: if the previous reference is vague, take a moment later to Google Kokopelli; he’s a fascinating character all by himself….) Where was I? Ah… for the record, I made this up this morning…..
So, a priest, a rabbi, and a Republican walk into a bar. The priest, looking a bit flushed, having just come (sorry) from his last session counseling his young charges, says plaintively, “Set me up a Scotch there, bartender, and be quick about it!” The rabbi, brushing the dust from his yarmulke, glances up with a grim visage, to order; “An absinthe, if you please, goyim.” The Republican, stiff and looking uncomfortable in his red tie, blue blazer, and American flag lapel pin says, “I’ll have a Shirley Temple, you liberal asshole.”
As the bartender sets down the drinks, and collects the money, he asks, “So, what’s with all the bad moods today?” The priest says, “Bloody internet! Can’t hide anything but what they’re posting their damn photos online!” The rabbi says, “A new archaeological find in Jerusalem seems to be an authentic statement, actually written by Jesus, the Christ of Nazareth. It confirms his divinity, and goes on to say that the Old Testament was nullified and declared to be false testimony, by Yahweh himself, as a 31st birthday present to Jesus…. and it’s been notarized by Saint Peter!” Republican says, morosely, “My gay lover just came out of the closet on Oprah; and he showed them the ring I had inscribed with both our names……sniffle….” The bartender, a long-time agnostic Libertarian, says, “Oh”.
There, now don’t your feel better? I know I do…..
“In spite of the recent progress in science, the depths of human imbecility have not yet been plumbed.” — H. Ellis
Once is an accident, twice is coincidence, thrice is enemy action. — Don’t know, but even older than Anonymous
I will admit that this may get a bit repetitive, but hey, don’t care…. it’s got to be said when the urge strikes, whenever an example of the lies, and the long-standing nature of the plague of human trafficking in society, presents itself to us. Hence, the following…..
“A woman takes off her claim to respect along with her garments.” — Herodotus
On first glance, one might tend to nod one’s head sagely, assume a serious and patriarchal mien, and agree with this statement, seemingly in accord with the deep insight that is implied (not proven, note, but implied…..). However, in light of what I’ve learned of late, I don’t think that a woman who has survived being held for years as a sex slave in modern America, or India, or China, or anywhere else in the world where it remains a cancerous blot on the social landscape, would have quite the same reaction, nor appreciate the complete and utter disregard it indicates for the real nature of women, or at least of those women who are free to be themselves without censure or threat.
No, I believe a woman as morally and ethically advanced as she, being the gracious, strong, forgiving person she has become (she always was; she just never had the chance before now to be so, freely and openly…..not if she wanted to live….), she would just smile, and calmly comment, “It’s clear that the lies that keep women enslaved are not of recent vintage, but have been spread around by ignorant misogynists, terrified of women’s nature, for a great many years.” With another gentle smile, she might add, “Well, he WAS Greek, wasn’t he? And we all know how the ancient Greeks felt about young boys as objects of desire. I suppose that would tend to skew one’s viewpoint in the direction of perversion.” With that, she would absent herself, taking with her all of her strength of will, and the wild, terrible beauty of the phoenix.
And the assholes who spread these ignorant, hateful lies shall then tremble in fear, because I’m still there, right in the room with them. I’ve heard every word, I’m not a happy camper, and I’m holding a very large pistol to their temple….. ah, happy dreams!….. I figure, if I can fulfill that dream say, 1000 times a day all over the globe, it should begin to make a serious dent in the number of these WOS’s (ask in the Comment section, and I’ll provide the definition of the acronym) who are still alive, er, active.
At least, those not in hiding from the rest of humanity’s contingent of pissed off males, all tens of millions of them determined to make up for their long, somnolent, passive acceptance of the lies, and the dishonor of the abrogation of their duty, by eliminating the source of the problem…. or at least those assholes who refuse to repent and change their tune…..which, by the obvious evidence in their background, isn’t going to happen. That’s fine by me…. bullets are relatively cheap, compared to years and years of re-education, and close observation….
“Once upon a time, there was a non-conforming sparrow who decided not to fly south for the winter. However, soon after the weather turned cold, the sparrow changed his mind and reluctantly started to fly south. After a short time, ice began to form his on his wings and he fell to earth in a barnyard almost frozen. A cow passed by and crapped on this little bird and the sparrow thought it was the end, but the manure warmed him and defrosted his wings. Warm and happy the little sparrow began to sing. Just then, a large Tom cat came by, and hearing the chirping, investigated the sounds. As Old Tom cleared away the manure, he found the chirping bird and promptly ate him.”
There are three morals to this story:
(1) Everyone who shits on you is not necessarily your enemy.
(2) Everyone who gets you out of shit is not necessarily your friend.
(3) If you are warm and happy in a pile of shit, keep your mouth shut.
And, indeed, ’nuff said on that….. just trying to maintain an even balance here…. from our most frequent repeat contributor of pearls, Anonymous. Or maybe his great-grandson. Does it matter? No…..
I must feel better. I must. Even though I went to bed late, I slept an extra two hours, and pretty well for a happy change. The coffee was hot & ready when I got up (thank you, technology!). My Muse reluctantly joined me midway, a bit worse for wear, by all visual evidence, but still creatively inspiring. Pearls were plentiful. And the hard drive didn’t crash or burp (knock on plastic…).
All in all, a satisfactory start to the day, which promises to keep me busy, it being payday. I get to hold on to my money, just long enough to go spread it around to all my most insistent creditors, where it gets sucked into the black hole of the American economy. Such fun!…. not.
That’s all, ffolkes, the well is dry, until the spring fills it back up…. y’all take care out there…..
Sometimes I sits and thinks,
I just sits.