Do You Feel Lucky?

(and feel free to comment! My older posts are certainly no less relevant to the burning concerns of the day.)

Friday, May 22, 2020

Fiction Friday in One Go: Enter the Narrator

The main character of the piece crossed the floor of her flat, suddenly both English and female, or possibly Australian. She was sure it was one or the other. This was clearly a "flat," not an apartment. It might be a "walk-up." Hard to tell from in here, in the foyer. The flat was basically a small foyer with key pieces of furniture, and not much opening off it. A pair of cupboards to either side, one fitted up as a kitchen, the other a bath. "Hey!" she objected.

What?

"Why can't it be proper accommodations?"

Fine. There's a trapdoor in the ceiling with a pull-down ladder. Leads to a quite well-appointed small mountain chalet. Classy - but I warn you if you go up there, your former life will be left behind.

"Suits me," she groused, grinning. "What's my name supposed to be, anyway? 'She'?"

CLOTHILDE.

"Sweet." A suspicious look crossed her face; Clothilde's face. "Am I naked?"

No, though I confess you are remarkably conventionally attractive. You're wearing a fucking CLOWN OUTFIT - except it's all black. No makeup, no wig, just the outfit - big roomy coverall, one of those big doily collars, big shoes, the whole bit. All black.

"Does it have pockets?"

Yes! It has pockets. In fact, quite a number of them sewn in, some of them quite cleverly-concealed.

"Anything interesting in?"

May be. Why don't you check?

A cross look. Gasp of exasperation. Her eyes swept up, saw the trap. There was a recessed handle. One springy step and a leap saw her catch and drag it down, landing lightly and ducking out of the way as the ladder slid out and down. As she stepped 'round and mounted the stair, a narrative interjection stopped her.

Wait.

"What is it?" she brightened. "Anything interesting?"

There's some sort of kill-team or monster approaching up there.

She made a face. "You're pathetic." Skipping lightly, she ascended. The steps retracted as her weight left, and the trap swung shut.

Time passed.

None of it was considerable.

The door to the bath cupboard was open. The sink was antique, with hand soap pump, toothbrush holder, toothpaste tube and a small, decorative tin perched about its rounded surfaces. It was really a cute little flat. Lots of touches. With the door closed in here, the mirror was empty. Just a blank wall in it. There was a slight, squared discoloration where there used to be a dried flower under glass in a chunky wooden frame. Had she taken it with her? Stuffed in a clown-pocket?

She was gone.

Clothilde, her former life left behind. Somewhere away up there, some kill-team or monster is about to discover brief regret. No way to intervene or assist, or even narrate.

She'll be on first-person narrative by now.

Thought of the day: is was

Is is what's left of was.

Thursday, May 21, 2020

Rejected Quora Answers #1 ("Needs Improvement"): Why do people think that beautiful girls are always dangerous?

I will tell you why. Have you read the other answers? Read them. And then come back and read this one last. And then you will judge who has told you why. I recuse myself on that one - the call is yours.

Why do people think of the danger of beautiful girls?

Because they know. They know of the danger, what if I stood up and declared to myself, in my inaudible mind-voice, “The girl is MINE. She is beautiful and has been nice to me as a regular habit!”

It would have no effect. Nothing changed. But then what if I declare it audibly, to her in her presence?

And then what if the girl (well, woman really, but this one gendersexually identifies as “girl” and has made it known, this preference is hers, and so she is) were to rise and declare, “The girl is not his. He has confused my innate habitual sweetness with one and all as a claim on my favors! No dice.”

It would feel like a broken bone in the heart. Or a bad sprain at least - and a heart-sprain, which is imaginary, can take years to heal. Where a normal sprain heals at medical rates. Which do you prefer? Spare the heart, give up the ankle. You’ll thank me in relatively few weeks.

A girl like that, beautiful and sweet and true, is like a devouring monster from the inside of a pretty sweet dude who, though, is a little on the hapless side, and lacks self-control and a certain purity of purpose (I don’t mean “puritanical,” please - get your mind from the gutter and rinse it off! Do not wash it - brainwashing is not the solution. Use tears - they smart a bit, but it rinses you clean with catharsis).

Even a bold, hard man, such as myself except bold, and hard, is in danger of heartbreak and heartache from a woman whose beauty has won him, but who will not herself be one. Or won. Whose fault is that? It is not hers. We have no claim on her but the claim she gives outright - which she is free at all times to revoke. We are all free to choose what we give of ourselves, and to whom - and what we shall keep.

In short, the only man to whom a woman is not dangerous is the one who despises women, who sees in them only an instrument for personal gratification: ego (personal or social worth) or id (the genitals). Such men have other things to worry about, though, principally repulsiveness if their hearts were known to one and all. Or the ancient ache of alienation, self-loathing growing to hatred of all, should their hearts be known to none. That’s a no-win deal, people.

Homosexual men, too, are relatively out of danger, in these dangers of the womankind. As are heterosexual women. Trust me, though, they have their own challenges in this world. Bigots galore, misunderstandings and stereotypes - you name it. Most of all, men.

But enough of the danger of men.

That is the danger of woman to man, heterosexually. There are other dangers of course - she could knife you as easily as anyone, if you’re caught unawares! But I sense the heterosexual danger to men (and the homosexual danger to women too, I suppose, but I feel as if being women, lesbians have an insight which spares them much of this weird othering of others of their gendersexual preference) is the thrust of this question! It is real. As real as doves and serpents - these are not made-up mythological figures, though of course they pull double duty there. Your only course: be true. Lead always with your own real likes, wants, needs and loves. These will ward off those who are no fit match for you, with whom match would only be misfit and misery. And it will shine up the world around you like a beacon for those whose likes, wants, needs and loves are good for you, like yours.

Basically don’t make decisions about other people, where you don’t really know. Don’t prefer some made-up thing and want that. Prefer to honor who is in front of you, to find out who she is, and so discover in getting to know each other what you could be to each other. What she thinks about that is key.

Thursday, March 26, 2020

Thought of the day: grounded

You keep me grounded.

And I didn't even DO anything!

King Unicorn Angel Sword

(please note: this is a children's book. Each line appears subscript or superscript upon a full-page gorgeous yet fetchingly casual illustration).

To be a king is a duty. A responsibility. An obligation.

Some kings deny their divine right to rule.

So long as they do not shirk their duty, I hold peace with such views.

I am King Unicorn Angel Sword.
I don't always dress this way.

Ofttimes a simple, classic, modern dress suit of clothes fits the bill.

Or to suit the occasion, I may appear in my military regimental dress. Dignity. Solemnity.

On the beach, I wear one of those 1900s getups.
It is important to our people to see that their King keeps to the old traditions.

But on special occasions of State, I appear before my people in my infamous full regalia.

The main response is a perfectly-understandable awe and deference.

Second-most prevalent response: hilarity. Also perfectly understandable.

My subjects think I'm a cool guy, pretty by and large.
I am stern of eye it is true. Yet fair of mien, to be fair.

And kindly, lordly and wise of bearing, as befits a king.

I try to be approachable.

I am very much relied upon in most quarters,

for my tact and insight in difficult personal matters,

and for my keen eye for fashion - for what truly suits, rather than what merely flatters the wearer.

Of course there will always be the occasional assassination attempt.

Generally the work of filthy revolutionaries.

Not to be confused with ordinary revolutionaries. (Note the indicators)
These guys never really bother anyone.

In a time of peace, my kingdom is prosperous and the love of my subjects is abundant.
These are the times I love best.

In a time of war, it is sometimes necessary to use war. In those dark days, my subjects rally fiercely to my call, to the defense of their country.

Results have been mixed. However, the strong fastness of my ancestral keep, Thunder Gulch Royal Fortress and Casino, has never fallen to any enemy while any remained within to defend her, which they usually do. That's a pretty good record.

Why not come live in my happy land?

Our tourism industry is nonexistent, to be honest.

Book a room at Thunder Gulch Royal Fortress and Casino while your temporary residential permit is processed, but my guess is after even only a few months here, you won't be wanting to move back to wherever you came from.

Our populace is happy and productive.

(by and large) (picture of filthy revolutionaries)

Our barter economy is thriving.

And if I may say so myself, we've got a pretty sweet King.

King Unicorn Angel Sword

Publishing Old Drafts As-Is #1: "Pre-Work Team Lunch Focus Check"

QUICK! PRE-WORK TEAM LUNCH FOCUS CHECK:

This time, Focus on
- Empathy
- free food
- goals: with shared clarity comes unity towards purpose. CLARITY MUST BE CHALLENGED TO BE ACHIEVED. It cannot simply be assumed.
- bid to power
- interpersonal journeys. Your coworkers are many roads to the same place: disalienation. Try to remember where you are upon each of them.
- inappropriate conduct-dar: questioning vigilance towards compassion with zero tolerance and the courage to speak up and out, not down.
- opportunities and traditions in a ritual meal setting

Friday, February 28, 2020

Viral Ideas #1: Next Hot New Personality Type Quiz Trend?

I want to set up one of those internet personality type quiz webpages. Only for astrological signs. WHAT ASTROLOGICAL SIGN ARE YOU? 100 questions, only takes 10 minutes. FREE

The final question would be "What's your birth date?"

Friday, February 21, 2020

Fiction Friday: Copperlocks And The Three Panties

Once upon a time, there was a medium-sized girl named Copperlocks. She was a woman, but for cultural and other reasons beknownst to her, she preferred to be identified as “girl.”

Copperlocks lived at the edge of the Ancient Yulby Forest, in a sound, cozy cottage of stout brick, tightly-packed sticks and well-daubed straw. It was just up to code.

One morning, Copperlocks brightly awoke, made her toilet (pronounced, "twa-LET") (it means “wash and prepare for the day, or whatever,” but Copperlocks loved fancy words like “toilet”), dressed in a flash, ran outside excitedly, and had her “morning constitutional.” This was what she called her customary brisk walk, to get the blood moving and such. Her grandmother had taught her the term, and a few others such as “b.m.”

Suddenly, miles already from home, Copperlocks realized what was wrong. She hadn’t any panties! She’d been noticing this for some time, and had kept meaning to jaunt down to the Jungle Mall in the heart of the Ancient Yulby Forest to forage for a pair, or two. Others had occasionally been noticing as well. Copperlocks was not that sort of girl to be above noticing what others had been noticing about her.

Filled with her chronic dismay (prone to it whenever her fits of unbelonging came on; she’d often lie down and wait for it to pass, but needless to say couldn’t just now), Copperlocks had only just noticed where she was again, when she realized it was right in front of the enormous House of the Three Panties. “Why how lucky I’ve gotten!” she cried, delightedly and wiped her face with her sleeves. “I’ll just pop in for a look-see!” And she did.

There, on the breakfast table laid out for inspection, were the Three Panties, pretty much as advertised. They looked clean and smelled fresh. “I’ll just try these on!” Copperlocks said. First she tried on the pink panties with gray ducks and polar bears - or tried to. “Ow!” she said. “These panties are much too tight! I can barely get them up and over my sweet caboose - and they pinch dreadfully!” Manfully she struggled and labored to remove them, and finally laid them on the table.

Next she eyed the black leather panties, studded and bejazzled with steel rivets - and crotchless. 

These panties were much too loose. She could tell just by looking, and did not try them on. They appeared to have been made for a giant.

Soon, she came to the third and last pair. Of panties. These were of purest deep white, and had tiny little satin bows, making the shape of a heart on the backside. Adorable! Heart in throat hoping, she tried these on.

They were just right. “Find something you like?” said the giant, politely.

“Oh, yes!” cried Copperlocks. “These are just right! Ring me up, please.” He did. She paid.

And on she went on her way, skipping delightedly. She couldn’t wait for all her friends to see her panties.

And the giant came out and changed the sign.

And that about covers it. (The end)

Tuesday, February 04, 2020

Thought of the Big Day

If it's a coronation when the crown is bestowed up your regal and waiting brow, would it be a moronation when it's a dunce cap?

Monday, February 03, 2020

Suggested Exchanges #4: Remind me later

"Remind me later to tell you about the accident."

"WHAT ACCIDENT?"

"Later."

"!!?"

"Remind me."

Tough Topics #66: Legalized Prostitution: Did We Do This One Already?

The real reason most people oppose legalized prostitution is they know (on an unconscious level probably, but they know) where it will inevitably lead.

HMO copays.

Friday, January 10, 2020

thought therefore

Everything is real! Everything is real

It's just that some things aren't things.