Inequality

I got a story about two little maggots. You know, little worms. They were sitting on the handle of a shovel. The shovel was in a workshop, and early in the morning, a workman came, put the shovel on his shoulder, and started down the street to work.

Well, the two little maggots held on as long as they could, but finally they jiggled off, and one fell down into a crack in the sidewalk, and the next fell off onto the curb. And from the curb, he fell into a cat. A very dead cat.

Well the second maggot just started in eating. And he ate and he ate and he ate for three days. He couldn't eat anymore. He finally said, "*Yawn* I think I'll go hunt up my brother."

And the second maggot humped himself up over the curb, humped along the sidewalk, came to the crack. He leaned and said, "Hello! You down there, brother?"

"Yes, I'm down here all right! I've been here for three days without a bite to eat or a drop to drink. I'm nearly starved to death! But you... you're so sleek and fat. To what do you attribute your success?"

"Brains and personality brother, brains and personality."

Against the hunter

Nine Charms against the Hunter 

David Wagoner

In the last bar on the way to your wild game,

May the last beer tilt you over among friends

And keep your there till sundown—failing that,

A breakdown on the road, ditching you gently 

Where you may hunt for lights and a telephone.

Or may your smell go everywhere through the brush, 

Upwind or crosswind.

 May your feet come down 

Invariably crunching loudly on dry sticks.

Or may whatever crosses your hairlines—

The flank of elk or moose, the scut of a deer,

The blurring haunch of a bear, or another hunter

Gaping along his sights at the likes of you—

May they catch you napping or freeze you with buck fever. 

Or if you fire, may the stock butting your shoulder

Knock you awake around your bones as you miss,

Or then and there, may the noise pour through your mind 

Imaginary deaths to redden your daydreams:

Dazed animals sprawling forward on dead leaves, 

Thrashing and kicking, spilling themselves as long

As you could wish, as hard, as game,

And then, if you need it, imaginary skinning,

Plucking of liver and lights, unraveling guts,

Beheading trophies to your heart’s content.

Or if these charms have failed and the death is real,

May it fatten you, hour by hour, for the trapped hunter 

Whose dull knife beats the inside of your chest.

A Grandfather’s Bulletin Board

PaPa’s Bulletin Board

Three photographs taken of a bulletin board that hangs in  PaPa's study, pasted together as a vertical triptych.
See each panel three times before determining the whole.

The first panel 

• A photograph of PaPa resting.  His grandchild has crawled on top of him and is hugging his neck.  

• A collapsed imaginary horse whose beloved rider, a wondering Princess, is urging to rise from the ground and continue galloping about the forest  in pursuit of a dragon.

• “My child is an Honor Student at…” bumper sticker, an oak leaf, business cards, and a postcard of a Tutor house. 

The middle panel

• A shining sun and a joyous moon look down on a colorful house. 
• A map of England, Scotland, and Wales and 
• A partial image of a shoulder, an ear, and a room 
• A second photo of the grandchild resting on the grandfather’s head.

The bottom panel

• On the right, a greeting card showing a small smiling bear hugging a larger smiling bear with the prepositional phrase, “For a Fun Papa” printed above the bears in a white display font. 

• The image on the left is of a cutout photo pasted on an index card of the grandchild sitting in a Radio Flyer. The child’s expression is content. Is she simply happy to be sitting in her lovely red wagon? Or is she being contently patient, sure that soon a hand will grasp the wagon handle and a lovely ride down the sidewalk will begin?

Zombies

Hypothetically it is possible that some republicans ...

Because republicans live in a culture that ignores basic principles of morality, logic, and science, their worldview is fragile and constantly guarded. 

• A high level of apprehension
• Extreme fear of and disdain for persons of others races, religions, sexual orientations, or lifestyle choices different from their own
• Constant worry that their self-interests will be damaged by the actions of agents outside of their culture

Hypothetically it is possible that some republicans might become capable of thoughts other than fear, disdain, and self-interest.

Certain conditions would have to be present for such a transformation.

• A situation that strongly compelled compassion for another person yet completely conflicted with their preconceptions of that "type" of person.
•  A situation in which if they acted upon their compulsion to compassion their self-interest would be at great risk. 

Sabbatical

Sabbatical

Forty-five years and the value of a journal

Forty-five years and the value of a journal

Forty-five years, two children and one grandchild, bunch of cats, a couple of dogs, a marriage and a career. 

Maybe if I had kept a journal I wouldn't have made so many mistakes.

A month of pages reread might have helped me avoid a few mistakes. I've heard that "Know thyself" is good advice.

Good Weather in the garden

Early June