Just Like Always

It cannot work. It’s evil. Nature rules. Nature knows. Nature is never evil. It may seem unfair at times.

Still, so many are living in a sea of fog around their heads: anthropogenic climate change; a few germs supposedly gone rogue outside a body filled with trillions and trillions of other docile, certainly useful/essential ones; save grandma but hope she dies sooner than later — you know, those pesky old people/baby boomers sucking up so much air and fog, space and resources, (even the ones who saw it coming long, long ago when the Trilateral Commission came barreling through in sneaking silence behind the scenes and brothers Hunt tried to have all the silver in the world — long before the newest hipsters ever will.)

In his 1980 book With No Apologies, Republican Senator Barry Goldwater suggested that the discussion group was “a skillful, coordinated effort to seize control and consolidate the four centers of power: political, monetary, intellectual, and ecclesiastical… [in] the creation of a worldwide economic power superior to the political governments of the nation-states involved.”

Get a tattoo and speak fry or make every sentence a question with a high rising terminal so everyone will know you’re hip, like all the other peer monger zombies. Use your hand symbols often.

Hip or compliant? Hip or a fool? Hip or afraid of not fitting in?

Don’t forget the wisdom that can come with years of living. Some do, some don’t — just like always.

Are sugar shares through the roof?

Being sick is healing. The body knows what to do — it calls the troupes when foreigners are doused upon our food, poured into our water, dropped from the sky or injected through a raping needle. And, unless it’s far too much, the body finds a way to heal by starting a cold or flu or some disease to warn us — like touching a hotplate or a festering sticker — and clears the battle field.

Wake up. There is something very wrong here. Take a rest. Slow your jets. Quit eating poison.

Sugar is poison, but it’s oh so very yummy — made just like a drug to be.

Oranges are safe and chocolate at its purest.

Put some oranges in your suitcase if you can even find them. Hit the road — or stay right where you are — it’s coming for everyone

Except for those who see the trouble backwards.

Header image credit and recipe: dreenaburton.com; ORANGE CHOCOLATE PUDDING (VEGAN, GLUTEN-FREE, SUGAR-FREE, RAW, OIL-FREE, NUT-FREE)

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So Many Lies

“There is no reason why they, or anyone, should surrender and accept.”

The young person walking by heading for school could just as easily have been a boy or a girl — covered from head to toes with black fabric clothes — all labeled, of course, with symbols — fashion being more important now, it seems, than ever.

The hair was under a hoodie and the only visible part was possibly some glint of eyes had they not been looking down to the ground. Had they even not been looking to the ground, (or possibly at a phone in the hand), it would likely have been too hard to see even the eyes due to the proximity of the hoodie’s drawstring-cap-edge to the black, draping-scarf-type mouth and nose covering’s beginning that met only far enough apart to allow for a sliver — like a burqa.

The non-disclosed gender looked like a zombie walking, covered in black — or someone very scared. 

The next one in line, heading the same way, did appear to be a boy — though his hair was very long. He was wearing a blue mask — the kind the hospitals are doling out. He was carrying an instrument of some kind in a case and the question seemed obvious, Is it a mouth instrument or a type that didn’t require any breath at all? That young man seemed a little less scared than the first one since he had on shorts and a short-sleeved T-shirt . All that skin exposed to the elements seemed brave in comparison to the black-covered zombie boy or girl.

There were younger ones behind the fence lining the edge of the sidewalk they were walking on. The children were playing out on the grass, waiting for the bell to ring. Some had masks on, others didn’t. They seemed perfectly happy either way.

It’s been seven months since the alarm bells rang from Wuhan. It was March that the states started setting stakes and making schooling even more unusual.

Who can be fooled this long?

The bell rang. It was time for fake stories of history and life — brainwashing — their parents had already been.

The person watching got busy laying more pavers for making traversing the front yard to the back yard less dirty. While she was still out there, a very big man with his young daughter came strolling along that same sidewalk — across the street from her and headed the direction of the school. Were they late, or scheduled for a second session so that desks can be six feet apart?

“Why,” she wondered, “has it been so hard all along, and not in any kind of school budget, to make smaller classes so teachers wouldn’t have more than they could handle? It’s been a huge fight for so long. From where had all the money come, all of a sudden, for these smaller-than-normal classes?”

So may lies. So many lies.

The little girl with her father was wearing a mask, the blue kind like the hospitals are handing out — the cheap ones — the ones lying all over parking lots with what everyone is afraid of is germs and sickness in the making.

The very large man, who was extremely overweight, wasn’t wearing a mask.

“Wasn’t he worried he’d get sick and bring it home for his daughter to get sick latter?”

Nothing is making sense.

Another man drove by twice — once this way and the next time the other. He was in an open, electric golf cart with his hair blowing. He had his blue mask hung from his ears going under his chin — perhaps so he could get it up quickly once getting to somewhere that the germs are more of a threat. In the meantime, he could virtue signal.

Brainwashed zombies don’t seem able to see the lies. Thinking is not in fashion and doesn’t come with a label. Designer masks, however, do and there is so much money to be made — best to get in on that gold rush while money still might matter.

Image credit: Gustavo Apiti Couture makes every mask to-order

 

 

People At Parties

“What do you think of this new girlfriend thing?” the little boy asked her. 

There was a party going on and she was mingling. The little boy found her. She was returning to the little boys father every so often and reminding him that she was there. The little boy’s father always seemed pleased to remember and didn’t seem to be paying any attention to any of the other women in the group. He was a man’s man and the men were just as attracted to him as the women were and he seemed to prefer that recognition.

“What do you think?” the women asked the little boy in return. 

He shrugged his shoulders but had a pleasant look on his face. The woman grasped him lightly by his shoulders and jostled him just a little bit in friendliness. She could tell that the little boy liked her.

Antony was what the man called his littlest son — his name was Anthony, but that was one of the many nicknames his father used to express his grand love for the little boy.

The woman’s delight in the whole affair overcame her so she went to where the father was and jumped up to be received in his big arms. He lifted her up to be close to his face and she put both her hands on his cheeks and said, “I love you,” and then kissed him.

“I still want to see other women,” he blurted. 

She said nothing but gazed at him with soft eyes in return. She knew that she had blurted too.

All she could think to do now was to leave a little time between them so that he might see her in a different light. She retreated to fetch her coat. It seemed like a good idea to just let him be. She did love him and was tired of holding it back. If he didn’t love her, it was time to know. Clearly, the little boy wanted to know too. Her heart felt brave, if for no other reason than for the little boy’s sake — it just wasn’t fair that he was being jostled by people at parties.

Her fingers lightly crossed the little boy’s face like a feather. He was standing in the path to the exit.

“I shall have to see you another time. I must be off to the races.”

Obscure surely, but she had said some kind of adieu. 

 

Image by Prettysleepy from Pixabay